#wingdrift

Second Halloween idea for Driftwing!

🗡️🧚🏻‍♀️Wing!! Wanna draw some short story comic for this AU, hopefully i could finish that in this this year!!

Part Two

Skystar

(srs their whole dynamic (even if most of it is fanon) is adorable! I’m always a sucker for lost lovers reunite fics/tropes)

Miroah

(literally the best part of the movie hands-down, has so much potential but I feel like we won’t be getting more of them since rotb wasn’t that well-received ig, but have hope)

Jazzprowl

(the first transformers pairing I cared about, I love their dynamic so much! They are so popular in fanon but their canon interactions (though they may interact more in the g1 cartoon/comics but idk I haven’t watched/read it yet) are so scarce it’s surprising that they’re so popular, but I am so glad they are!)

Dratchet/driftrod/ratchrod/dratchrod (yes all four)

(dratchet is canon and great anyway, driftrod is also great, ratchrod is underrated, so combining them all to get dratchrod gives an absolutely amazing ship (rodimus with two old men lol (i think i have no idea how old rodimus is compared to dratchet)))

Wingdrift

(I saw a lot of these two in fics and such and I wasn’t a fan in the beginning (I had no idea who wing was) but then I read the drift miniseries and these two now have my whole heart, so much potential but the writers had to go and kill wing off. There needs to be more fics between these two I’ve gone through the entire tag on ao3 and it’s a problem)

Windstream

(literally adore these two, wish we got more interactions than we did, but windblade seeking revenge from bludgeon in the series because he killed slipstream made me ship them more, literally the perfect cross-faction ship!)

Deckmax

(Ever since Gunmax appeared on the show these two have had that ship energy, idk they just complement each other and we need more of them!)

HM: Simpatico (I love their personalities together), Oplita (the og ship, what’s not to like?), Cheetbee (an underrated duo that I wish was more popular), Soundrod (Cyberverse them were everything), WaveWave (especially tfp), Elite Trine (do I have to explain?), Megarod (it’s like megop but better (in my opinion) but also completely different), Smokebee (another underrated duo), Constructiprowl (what’s not to love about prowl having multiple bfs in IDW lol)

Yes Deckmax aren’t transformers but they are giant transforming robots (ig only Deckerd can transform but wtv)

As a family

Drift! You're here! Let's have an adventure together, we're all here with you. ∩ᴗ∩

when the Cybertronian die, dango that look like them grow out of the ground

Word Count: 1,779

Relationship(s): Drift | Deadlock/Wing

Character(s): Drift | Deadlock, Wing (Transformers)

Fandom(s): The Transformers (IDW Generation One)

Tags: Great Swords, Past Relationship(s), Grief/Mourning, Canonical Character Death

Summary: Great Sword’s. They were a mystery, even to the most knowledgeable of Knights. Wing had thought they were sentient. Drift had thought he was insane for even thinking so. But, as he sat and watched the Sword’s crystal brighten, felt the warmth of it beneath his digits, he might have to change his opinion entirely.

Notes: forgot to post it here, it’s been on ao3 for a few days now… oops

Find it on ao3, and find more of my works here!

Drift sat cross-legged on his berth in his habsuite on the Lost Light. It was a cozy room, smaller than a mech of his ranking should be given, but bigger than most of the rooms aboard were. He didn't mind, it felt cozy. A larger room would make him feel small, especially when it's just him.

Drift tried to make it decorated as much as he could. Placing crystals on added shelves, hanging them from the ceiling so they run down the wall. Rolled meditation mats leant against the wall beside his berth, incense on his bedside letting off a calming aroma.

His gaze wandered to the pictures he had up, some holographic, some flat. They were scarce, and only really consisted of Rodimus and Perceptor, but there were a few that showed him with a few other crew members, Pipes the most consistent of them all.

He knew that, here, on the Lost Light, he was more accepted than he would ever be anywhere else. He had made friends (or at least acquaintances) that were more than just Rodimus. He could have conversations with many of the mecha on board without being called a traitor.

But despite all of that, he felt... empty. Alone.

Even as he heard the distance steps of those walking past his door, the chatter and laughter as groups spoke of their day and told jokes. Even when he thought of just joors earlier, where he sat in Swerves and sat with mecha who laughed at his jokes and were unafraid to converse with him.

But no one stopped by his hab. His door hadn't been touched by a servo that wasn't his own. His crystals and pictures hadn't been admired by any other optics but his own. No one had sought him out just because they can, not for a question or a favour.

Not all of the crew were as accepting as Drift liked to pretend they were. He heard their whispers, saw their stares. He knows some of them do it purposefully, and Drift tried not to let it show that they get to him, but they do. It hurts.

He still swears some of the crew twist and turn to avoid even stepping onto his doorstep. As if touching a pede onto it is some sort of bad omen.

His gaze wanders to the swords hung up on his wall, shining in the low light on the ceiling. It's comforting, to look at the glyphs he etched on their sides all those vorns ago.

'Forgive'.

'Forget'.

'Vengeance'.

'Penance'.

Glyphs that hit deep within his spark. He still remembered when he wrote them, thinking hard and long about what would be the most meaningful. What resonated with him more, what he wanted to serve as a reminder to stay on the right path. What glyphs would make the mech he loved proud of him.

His optics latched onto the blue crystal on his- on Wing's Great Sword. It shone bright, as it always did when Drift looked at it, as if it knew he was looking at it and was relishing in the attention.

It's times like these when Drift is reminded of Wing the most. Of the stories the jet used to tell him on one of their many trips to New Crystal City's outskirts.

Wing was always fond of the idea that the Sword's were sentient, that they chose their bearer as much as the mech chose them. He'd always lay his own in front of him, looking into its crystal as though there was nothing else more interesting.

Drift liked looking at it too. He could always spot Wing's reflection on the shiny surface, and the jet always looked beautiful in the blue light. Wing thought Drift was as much interested in it as himself. He wasn't (he thought it was a load of scrap), but he'd never mention it to Wing.

Nor would he mention that, when Wing urged him to touch the crystal to feel a pulse of a spark, that he never felt anything. The gem was bright, brighter than any other crystal he had seen, but it was still cold on the tips of his digits, none of the warmth Wing insisted he could feel. It felt like any other crystal you could find in caves.

He still pretended to, fake flinches and faux grins. If it was any other, Drift wouldn't have bothered, but seeing the bright smile on Wing's face was enough of a reason for him.

It was a lie that he kept going until Wing's death.

But, as he looked at the brightening crystal, he couldn't help but start to believe. It had dulled, the first few stellar-cycles after he left the City. It sent Drift spiralling into a panic, thinking that he'd somehow managed to break one of the things most sacred to Wing. Had stupidly managed to break the trust given to him so easily.

He placed the Sword on his back when it went like this, and refused to use it or even look at it. Seeing the darkened crystal hurt him too much to. Even to recharge he shuttered his optics before placing it onto its stand. He was scared that he'd open them one day and see it completely blackened, no hints of the bright blue that Wing was so fond of.

But, one cycle after he'd joined up with Kup, he'd been with Perceptor in one of the makeshift labs of his. Drift had been watching Perceptor work, a frequent pastime once they had begun an unlikely friendship. The microscope had turned, and Drift had spotted his reflection in the glass of his helmet. He'd been too late to turn away, and had spotted the sword.

Only this time, it'd been glowing.

Drift remembered feeling shock, grief, and excitement all in one fell swoop. Perceptor had thought he'd glitched when he'd gone stock-still, had been prepared to start fixing him.

He hadn't known what was the reasoning for the Sword's sudden awakening, but when he'd removed it from his back and placed it onto one of the free tables in the lab, his servo had brushed against the crystal. It had shocked him, a small spark of energy briefly connecting them for less than a klik. It was warm to the touch too, a comforting feeling.

Drift remembered quickly asking Perceptor to do the same, but when the scientist had shook his head 'no', he'd been... he wouldn't say disappointed, just... confused. Perhaps it just allowed the bearer to feel its energy?

Back then Drift didn't want an answer for the crystals odd behaviour, had been too afraid that this miracle that had happened would be taken away if he thought too hard. Now, on a ship full of mecha, Drift had far too much time on his servo's, and he thought.

For its misleading warmth, Drift thought that maybe it only ran hot for those it deemed worthy, that it accepted to share its sacred energy. It would explain why Drift couldn’t feel it in the City, or Preceptor couldn’t feel it back then - neither of them had proved themselves to the Sword.

For the oddity that was the fluctuating brightness, all Drift could think of was one word:

Wing.

Drift very rarely used the Sword in battle, instead keeping it on his back for safe keeping's. But when he did, even if just to train with it, practice different motions and poses, a warmth would envelope his frame, like he was being given a hug at his back.

It reminded him of Wing. He was always affectionate, hugging and touching Drift whenever he could, kissing and holding his servo's. He always ran warm, an oddity for a flight frame, but Drift never complained.

Being embraced in Wing's arms was a feeling he mourned everyday. He felt caged, but safe, that nothing could hurt him because Wing was right there.

The same feeling rushed over him whenever he held the Sword. When it first happened, the familiarity of it made his knees buckle and he almost collapsed to the ground in shock. His spark in his chassis stretched and thinned, the ghost feeling of a mech long gone made it yearn and search for something not there.

The crystal reacted to the longing in his field, pulsing and shining as though attempting to comfort him. When Drift had touched it, pressed a servo against it in a soft embrace, it had dimmed to a soft blue. The same blue it was most when with Wing.

Drift remembered being taught more in-depth about the Great Sword's by Wing. When used to its full potential, the bearer would offer a connection between them and the Sword, sharing energies.

Drift had thought it was intimate; despite the sword being an inanimate object, bearing your spark to another was still a whispered thought by many. An uncommon practice. Wing had assured him that it was merely what he said, a pathway. Not a link, not a bond, not anything as intimate. Just a mutual connection.

He supposed that Wing wouldn't have even thought of the possibility that the bearers spark might leave some fragments in its crystal. But Drift would.

Wing had stated that the Sword’s were still a mystery, one that Dai Atlas himself had yet to solve. All the Knights thought of them differently from their different experiences, but he wouldn't have thought they would think the Sword’s were alive.

Drift would dare think. Would dare think that maybe his beloved lived on in the Sword that Drift held dearly to his spark. That maybe, all of the little light shows (and lack of) the crystal did were signs of Wing’s emotions. It brightened when he was happy, content, or, Drift dare say, proud.

It would make sense. When Drift left the City the crystal was dull, and when he stayed alone it darkened more and more. But when Drift started doing good, joined the Autobots and made friends, it brightened, because Wing was proud of him.

Maybe Drift was delusional. Maybe his time alone had made him slightly crazy, but he wouldn’t deny himself this comfort. That Wing was looking over him, that he was proud of what he was doing.

It was everything Drift had wished Wing felt. Everything he had done was to make his lover proud, proud of him.

So when Drift filled his field with love and pushed it to the blade, and the Sword pulsed back, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, it meant ‘I love you too’.

yay hums