#witwicky

The Witwicky Family Tree.

A family tree covering all known members of the Witwicky family from the Transformers franchise.

Two humans (I imagine them as temp park rangers or something and their names are "Sparkplug/Sparky" Witwicky and Davey) got stranded in a cave due to the heavy rains that made their vehicle stuck in thick mud. (Also sticking to the original anon's charcter bios of them being former soldiers, btw.)

As they walked deeper into the cave with their flashlights on, they heard these loud metal noises behind them. When they turned around, nothing.

They walked again and saw this weird metal thing (a Cybertronian charging pod) and curiously inspected it when the noise from before startled them again to turning around. This time they pointed their guns at this huge yellow giant (Bumblebee).

Bumblebee *trying not to freak the humans out*: Uh...

Humans: AAAAGH!!

*Que Cliffjumper jumping in with his big gun defensively.

Cliffjumper: Raaagh!!

Hound *frantically comes in to stop Cliff from shooting and pushes his gun*: Uh-uh!!

*The gun barrel got pushed so hard that it struck something metal, puzzling all of them.*

*Que the illusion breaking revealing a neutral Mirage, whose nose got struck by Cliff's gun during the scuffle.*

Mirage: AAAAGH...! *holds his nose because that hurt!*

*Cue awkward pause and stare...*

(This is a gift for Dearg. Their version of Sparkplug who is reimagined as a becoming a Sweep which is also a Cybertronian wolfman of some kind for context.)

At the second level of Maccadam's establishment which is the cafe and bakery, many workers are there for their coffee and lunchbreak...

Carmen: Here. One black coffee with a lamington. Sparkplug: Thanks, Carmen...? Sniff, sniff? Oh, woof. Uh, Carmen, I hate to complain, but I think you gave me the wrong one. This lamington doesn't have any jam. Carmen: Oh! Sorry... Minerva: I think she gave me yours by mistake, sir. I asked for a lamington with no jam. Sparkplug: Heh. Innocent mistake and easily fixed *they exchange plates* Minerva: You're the first person I've met who eats them other than me. Sparkplug: To be honest, I'm surprised they aren't MORE popular. I mean, it's a cake dipped in silver. Best idea ever, woof. Minerva: My grandkids and I would agree. Sparkplug: Woof?! Minerva: ??? Sparkplug: Pardon me, it's just that... you look awfully young to be a grandmother. Then again, I became a grandpa young, woof. Minerva: *smiles*...? Say, you have... white eyes. Are you by any chance, Sparkplug? Sparkplug: Woof? *checks his ID*... Why yes I am *they both laugh* Minerva: You're very grounded for a celebrity. I mean, you hang out in a place like this. Sparkplug: A place like this is great to hang out at, woof. They make the best coffee. And lamingtons. Minerva: No argument there. I'm Minerva by the way *they shake hands* Oh! Sparkplug: *looks sheepish* Uh... pardon the paws, whine. Minerva: Oh, it's not that. Not entirely. You have a very firm grip. Sparkplug: Really? *smiles wide* A few months later...

A Hidden Design in Transformers: EarthSpark

Witwicky, Pennsylvania. A town that feels like a backdrop. A place suspended in unreality — half-abandoned, half-controlled.

It’s where the Terrans were born, and where the world quietly vanishes.

🧍‍♂️👧 Why Are Mo and Robbie in the Same Class?

Robbie is older. Mo is younger. Yet they’re always together — in the same grade, same classroom, same assignments.

Why?

Is the school so small that it combines grades?

Did Mo accelerate?

Or was Robbie held back — not academically, but emotionally?

There’s a quiet implication that Robbie’s development might have stalled. Perhaps after trauma. Perhaps due to their family's chaotic lifestyle.

But there’s another detail even stranger.

👦 Robbie had friends.

He says it clearly in episode 1:

“I had friends… back in old town.”

But Mo never says this. Never mentions a friend. Never mourns a peer.

Which raises the question: Has she ever had any? Was she always emotionally bonded only to her family and Terrans?

If Mo’s entire social development has been within a bubble of siblings and artificial lifeforms created to adore her — can we even say she has real social skills? Or only command?

🤖 The Terrans' Harmony Is Suppression

We’re told the Terrans are “in harmony.” But that harmony is programmed — not chosen.

They didn’t choose their emotional bonds.

They didn’t choose their bodies.

They didn’t choose their isolation.

Their bond is encoded dependence. Their world is selective exposure. Their peace is silence, not resolution.

This is not balance. It’s a suppression of the organic — of chaos, of choice, of dissonance.

Even their feelings are tightly looped around the Maltos, unable to truly stretch outward.

🏚️ The Empty Town — and No One Questions It

Why do the Terrans — curious, intelligent beings — never ask:

“Why don’t we see other people?” “Why is this town so small?” “Where is the world?”

Because they were never taught to look. Never encouraged to explore beyond the illusion.

They live in a psychological vacuum, where everything they feel is mirrored back at them from the same small circle.

A few children. A hidden base. A dying town. And that is all they are allowed to see.

🕷️ Social Control by Disconnection

Terrans were born in captivity. Raised in emotional dependency. Cut off from both Earth and Cybertron.

They do not know themselves. They do not know the world.

And no one around them seems to notice — because in EarthSpark, silence is rebranded as harmony.

But silence is not peace. And harmony, when forced, is just emotional flattening.

This is a little project that I have for my Transformers fanfic.

This is one of my main characters, Nathan Witwicky.

I will be releasing designs for the humans, as well as try to create my own Transformer's design.

If you are interested in reading the fanfic, you can find it here:

A/N: Optimus. I love him.

Set after the events of Revenge of the Fallen, when they’re all on the aircraft carrier home from Egypt.

Title: Renewed

Summary: After Optimus’s death and revival through the Matrix, you can’t help but feel as though you could lose him again at any moment. He, of course, is quick to put your mind at ease.

Words: 2772

“Can I go, now?” you asked almost pitifully. The army doctor hovering over your bruised ribs rose an eyebrow and the corners of his lips turned upwards.

“Just a moment,” he told you, and you heaved a sigh, falling back onto the bed.

After the events in Egypt, everybody had been bustled onto an aircraft carrier to be taken home. You were one among many lying down on the rows of beds, being looked over by the medics aboard. Thankfully you hadn’t been hurt too bad – a few stitches had been required for a gash in your leg, but apart from that you’d escaped with nothing more than bruises and achy joints.

You winced a bit as the man pressed against your ribs a little hard, swallowing thickly when he sent a quick apology and proceeded to rub some chemical-smelling cream over the colourful bruises decorating your exhausted body. Focusing on something else seemed to be the best distraction from the uncomfortable pain coursing though you, and so when Sam turned a little in his conversation with Makaela near the door, you locked eyes with him. He held your gaze for a moment before seemingly noticing your pleading look, saying a few quick words to Makaela and moving to walk over to you.

“What’s the verdict, Doc?” he asked as he sat at the edge of your bed. “Is she gonna live?”

You rolled your eyes. “These bruises are the worst of it, Sammy. You’re the one with the broken arm.”

Your brother made a face and glanced at his cast. “Yeah, well. Thrusting an alien artefact into the spark of an ancient robot will do that to a man.”

The doctor chuckled and gently pulled your shirt down. “You’re free to go, Miss Witwicky,” he told you with a smile, “just ensure you don’t strain yourself too much or put extra pressure on your ribs. The stitches in your leg will dissolve, so don’t worry about them, but again, try not to break them in the meantime.”

“Don’t worry, Doc,” Sam said, clasping your shoulder as you sat up, “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

He nodded once before moving off to look over his other patients.

“Mom and Dad want you to come back home.”

You looked at your brother. Wow. He really hadn’t waited, had he?

Sighing, you rubbed at your eyes. “I guess I should’ve expected that.”

Sam shuffled back on the bed, lifting his legs. He shrugged. “Not forever, though I’m sure they’d want that. Just for a while until you get back on track.”

You didn’t reply to that. Really, your parents had disagreed with your choice of job since the moment you’d told them you wanted to work with the Autobots at NEST, nevertheless they had eventually given in as long as you gave daily updates and Optimus promised to keep you away from the work he knew would be dangerous. Of course, they hadn’t really needed to ask him to do that. At times, the ‘Bot could be far more protective than your actual parents… and annoyingly so, though you knew better than to complain, especially to him.

Either way, the point stood that both you and Optimus were as close as an alien robot and a human teenager could possibly be. Therefore, his death had shattered your heart and you were currently incapable of imagining being away from him. Even leaving his side to get checked over by the doctor had taken a little prodding from the Autobot himself, and now, sitting with Sam, you very much wanted to race back to him.

“Hey.” Sam shuffled around and placed his hands on your shoulders, not speaking until you turned your head to look at him. “Optimus is fine, alright? He’s alive and- and he’s good. In fact, he’s more than good. And I’ve got a broken arm to show for it.” He gave you a large grin and you breathed a short laugh, shaking your head. Sam drew you in for a hug, hand at the back of your head. “He’s not gonna leave you again,” he said gently, “not any time soon.”

You nodded and drew back. “Thanks, Sam.” A quick wipe at your eyes got rid of the few tears which had begun to gather. “Do you know where he is?”

“Yeah, I left him outside a while ago.” The corners of your brother’s lips turned upwards and he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Go speak to him.”

Optimus was speaking with a number of soldiers by the side of the warship when you walked out of the med-bay and into the cold of the sea air. You’d brought a thick blanket out with you and wrapped it tightly around your shoulders as you slowly walked towards him, not eager to disrupt his small meeting. His arms were on his hips and he was glancing between the vast ocean ahead and the group of men, including Will Lennox, on the floor, but his head turned when his optics caught sight of you making your way towards him and a small smile spread across his face before he turned back to the men. His deep voice wafted over to you with the icy breeze and you shivered once again, hugging yourself.

You stopped between his leg and Will, who wrapped an arm around you and squeezed you in a quick hug. You leaned into his side, not really paying much attention to the conversation going on around you and instead staring at the waves of the ocean the ship was gliding along.

You didn’t know how long had passed – it could have been a minute or an hour for all you cared; the beauty of the sea you rarely laid eyes upon had truly taken your attention away from reality for a while as you wallowed in your own placid mind – before Will gave your arm a pat and began to walk away, following the rest of the men. You watched them for a moment before subconsciously moving closer to Optimus and leaning your head against the cool metal of his leg.

He was silent for a short while, head dipped down to look at you, before he spoke. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

You sighed and tightened your grip on the blanket. “Okay. The doctor said I’ll live.”

He chuckled. “Well, that is a relief.”

“Yeah,” you agreed a little absently, and a moment later he leaned down enough to hold his hand out. You instinctively stepped on and waited until he’d straightened up and raised you to his shoulder before seating yourself there, holding onto his plating. “It’s colder up here,” you told him, lifting your legs and wrapping your arms around them.

“Is it?”

“Mhm.” You waited a moment. “How are you feeling?”

You turned to look at him, but he kept facing ahead. “Fine,” he said, and then he smiled and moved his head to gaze right back at you. “I truly am. But I suppose you are not. At least not about what happened to me.”

Face falling, you snapped your head around and grumbled. “Way to bring it up.”

“I didn’t. You did.”

“Not like that!”

“Nonetheless.” He rose an optic ridge at your following silence, but said nothing, simply waiting for you to speak up when you so wished.

“My parents want me to come home with them for a while.”

“That is understandable.”

“Yeah, I guess…” You paused for a moment before continuing. “Hey. Can the- uh…” He waited patiently. “Can the Matrix be used again?” You weren’t looking at him, instead huddling under the blanket you’d brought out with you and gazing ahead at the waves of the ocean as you shivered a little from the cold. Your voice was quiet, and he doubted he would have heard it had you been any further away from his audio receptors, but he could tell it was hesitant and not too sure of itself.

He knew the reason for the question.

“It can,” he said.

You were quiet for a little longer this time. “So, if… hypothetically… if you- I mean, if a ‘Bot ever came into that situation…”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

He turned his head to gaze thoughtfully at you. “I won’t have need of it again, Y/N. At least not to resurrect me.”

“I never said you would,” you told him adamantly, eyes darting to look into the blues of his optics, but when a knowing smirk began to pull at his lips, you turned away from him.

Optimus waited yet again.

A moment later you slumped over yourself, frowned and heaved a deep sigh, twisting yourself around to fully face him. “How do you know?” you asked, and that smirk played across his lips freely.

“Just trust that I do, little one.”

“I do trust you, but… but how can somebody know that they’re not going to die? And in your case, die again.”

The ‘Bot sighed and turned slightly to begin walking slowly along the edge of the ship. In all honesty, his death had still rocked him a little, despite his lack of showing it. Waking after Sam had thrust the matrix into him and restarted his spark had been a shock, if anything. When you die, you expect to stay dead. Even him. Yet, here he was, walking, talking, you on his shoulder as though he hadn’t been killed by Megatron at all. And it was… an odd thing to think about. Which was why he could understand your obvious trepidation about leaving him. It was something he wished to quell, however.

Stopping at the other end of the ship, Optimus crossed his arms over his chest. “You should know me well enough to know I am not easily killed, little one,” he said smoothly, and you shifted closer to his head, tucking your hair behind your ear. “I have been alive a very, very long time, and in that very, very long time I have only met my end once. I am not eager for it to happen again.” He turned his head towards you and offered you a warm smile, which you returned, but not at all as sincerely.

“Still,” you told him, “you can’t blame me for… well…”

“Sticking to me like a leech?” he suggested with a brief raise of an optic ridge. You couldn’t even glare at him. Instead, you shrugged a little sheepishly and tucked your blanket under you to keep it from blowing in the wind.

“Yeah. That. You can’t blame me.”

“No. I understand.”

“Good.”

“And yet… I would still like for you to go home with your parents. Even if only for a short while. It’ll be good, if not for you then for them; I expect this is the furthest they’ve ever been from safety and the first time they have seen both their children in such dangerous situations.”

You nodded. “You can say that again. Dad didn’t let go of my arm once until we got on the ship and to the medics.”

He chuckled. “I noticed.”

“Did Ratchet take a look at you?”

The Autobot just about refrained from sighing at that. No matter what he said, your worries simply would not disappear, and, in a way, he found it discomforting. To live a life constantly in fear of losing your loved ones was not a life well-lived at all, and so the look he turned on you was one of utter seriousness. “Yes, he did,” he told you, “and he has assured me that I am well. As I have tried to assure you.”

You groaned, ducking your head and not even bothering as your grip on the blanket slacked and it almost blew away until Optimus snuck his hand up to grab at it while you resituated your grasp. “I can’t help it!” you insisted, tone of voice rising. Optimus remained patiently silent as you spoke, somehow glad to finally have you blurting out what was on your mind instead of stuttering out half-sentences and keeping your true feelings from him. So, he remained quiet and calm, audio receptors perked keenly to listen to your little voice while his optics stared ahead. “You died, Optimus! You died and I was there! I saw the life literally leave your eyes! And I thought- I thought that was it. That all our time together was over because you’d been killed. And- and in that one moment, I knew that anything was possible, because you- you’re not supposed to die! But you did.” You sighed deeply and hid your face in your hands. “I lost you, Optimus, only a few days ago… and, now, I can’t help but be afraid I’ll lose you again… and I can’t have that. I can’t. I barely coped this time.” Slumping over even more, you lowered your voice to a mere whisper. “I love you too much to have to go through that again.”

Despite your words, an almost sad smile appeared on Optimus’s face and he twisted his head fully to face you. “Look at me, Y/N,” he gently ordered, and when you didn’t do as he asked, he lifted a finger and wiggled it against your side just enough, he knew from experience, for it to tickle. You squealed, jerking towards his head and glaring at his raised optic ridge. You said nothing, however, listening to his next words. “As I have already said, Autobots don’t die easily. I have been alive longer than most, and yet this time was my first and, hopefully, my last. At least in your lifetime, hm?” His finger, the both of you hadn’t even noticed, was still in the same place, clutched tightly by your hands as though it were a comfort blanket of some sort, or at least a physical reminder that he was still walking the earth, even though you were literally sat on his shoulder. “I promise you, my little wolf,” he continued, and you felt tears prick your eyes, “it is far less likely to happen again now that it has already happened. Megatron is gone, the Decepticons have scattered… I swear to you, I am okay. I do not wish for it to affect your life, do you hear me? I want you to go home with your parents and Sam and have a well-deserved and well-needed break.”

You sniffed. “Can we still call?”

That finger, with you still attached to it, reached up and wiped gingerly at your tears. “Yes, we can. But I don’t want you to constantly be thinking of what happened. It is over. It is done. It is fixed. I am alive and well and certainly capable of driving over to your house and giving you another lecture if I so much as hear from your family that you have been gloomily thinking about me.” You giggled at that, and he considered it a victory as you shuffled towards him and rested your weight completely against his cheek. He leaned in in utter contentment. “I love you,” he said, “far too much to allow myself to go through it again, too. We are not so different in this. I find myself unable to properly think about what happened as well – your own death isn’t so easy to get over, believe it or not – but I find courage in the present. I was dead, but I am alive. Alright?”

“Yes,” you said with a nod, truly feeling as though you were no longer so weighted down. “I’m sorry, Optimus.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I understand where your head was going. A loved one’s death is difficult to overcome, but a loved one’s death and then revival is confusingly heart-breaking and capable of playing with the mind. But, as I said, let us not think on it any longer. Dry those tears and tell me about the curious sea animals I saw earlier… they had odd fins on their back and made the strangest noises…”

Sam watched a way off, arms crossed over his chest. He turned to Will, who was stood next to him. “I think they’re gonna be fine.”

“Both of them?” Will asked, twisting to look. “Old ‘Bot didn’t seem totally himself when we were talking.”

“Yeah.” Sam watched as Optimus pointed ahead, you said something inaudible from where he was standing, and then both you and the alien stared at each other for a full five seconds before bursting into laughter, the latter’s deep chuckles flowing with the wind. He smiled. “They’ve got each other.”