f ℞ Medic bay
Anonymous
Why is it, lord megatron, that there are so few femmes in your deception ranks. And even fewer with the autobots? I would think that a lack of... feminine company would drive your testosterone filled ship mad. Or am I wrong?

seeker-nightfall:

roguedecepticon:

therisingdarkness:

It’s almost charming, how deep your ignorance runs.

Cybertronians do not manufacture testosterone or estrogen, as it is a chemical unique to organic species. ‘Femme’ is a frametype, not a gender; our concept of gender is almost nonexistent except that which is required for communication and ease of translation. And believe you me, there are plenty of them aboard.

Excuse me?

So, humans assume more of us would be present on the ship for the purpose of pleasuring mechs?

Brb, burning down few cities.

Burn one for me.

you-know-nothing-john-snow:

Thousand years. on We Heart It.

you-know-nothing-john-snow:

Thousand years. on We Heart It.

auroralion:

Doing a day by day progress log for this one. It feels nice to do a full blown TF pic again in my usual crazy style.This is also my favorite color scheme for everything for Knock Out. I just love the dark cool vibe. Oh and this is all done with a single brush. No textures, no overlays.

auroralion:

Doing a day by day progress log for this one. It feels nice to do a full blown TF pic again in my usual crazy style.This is also my favorite color scheme for everything for Knock Out. I just love the dark cool vibe. Oh and this is all done with a single brush. No textures, no overlays.

Escape

nolongerneutral:

perfectpractitioner:

Oh, but a chase was most fun if there was stakes to be made, or lost. Knockout could have easily hidden away in the broken down buildings by the time she returned with a space bridge— no. Things didn’t have to be this easy.

He wanted to earn this through more than plotting and manipulating everyone. He wanted to escape her on the streets.

Knockout kept driving, but in plain sight. He commed his alternate one final time, switching off his comm line just after Noire pinged— without reply, even. He saw and heard the space-time shift, the glow bright in his rear view mirrors, watched it dissipate.

Good, no one else. He smiled inwardly, then gunned it. Full speed.

"Having a real race, are we Noire?! You’re going to have to let me go sometime!"

Noire’s anger fueled her entire frame. Her engine roared in the hollow silence of the wasteland as she shot off after Knockout hot on his fender. 

:: Let you go? Is this a GAME to you!? I can’t go back with out you!:: She didn’t yell, but the rage was very obviously there.

:: You USED me, I trusted you!:: She was closing in on him, she was a few feet from him before Transforming and standing still. 

:: This is a game to you? I’m not playing.:: Her optics dilated, trying to adjust, her doorwings twitched inward. She clenched her fists as she shook with rage. 

What an idiot she’d been. Pathetic indeed. She wasn’t about to play into Knockout’s servos. He’d played her enough, she was done. She looked down at her chassis, her decepti-brand glaring at her. She was a Decepticon now, it was high time she behaved like one. 

No reply. But Knockout had already shut off his comm. He didn’t expect to hear her over the deep thrum of his engine. 

Noire was really going for it, and it wasn’t like their earlier, playful race. The scan she suggested earlier gave him tremendous insight into what she could burn; by no means had it been planned that way. Coming off of Synth En into normal fuel stores, and looking at her speed now, she was making a bad call for a long race. Running away wasn’t about speed, but power. He had to keep a step ahead, and for a while, Noire would get just close enough, and he would kick it higher. If it was taunting, it was not intentional, he was still building momentum in his drivetrain.

Pushing his adrenaline, heightening the stakes.
If she catches you, you’re dead.

Monitoring his throttle to each cylinder.
If she catches you, you won’t be able to fight.
Tipping to the side to avoid road debris.
If she catches you, you’ll be dragged. He’ll drag you to his ship.
He’ll set out to know things he can’t possibly know. They’ll cut you open and reassemble your parts.
There will be the wretched Ratchet and his precision.

There will be a red Breakdown with the coldest optics in all of the galaxy.
You’ll die there this time.
If they ever get you again, you’ll die.

Don’t let them catch you.

Knockout was psyching himself out, remembering the last time he ran. He ran away from Lord Prime, but failed. He didn’t have the power to get away.
He told himself he’d never feel that way again, and in his own way, he transformed Noire into an enemy combatant. Anyone who came after him was an enemy. Capture is death. Incarceration is death.

He used his desire to fuel his adrenaline drive— faster, farther!— planning more carefully this time, tactels heightened and HUD carefully monitoring and triangulating his path. Taking an expressway overpass was predictable— she could buy time for a Vehicon ambush ahead via space bridge. Overcompensating speed could lead him right into a situation he wouldn’t have time to react to.

He needed more maneuverability. 

Go where they would never expect you to go, the electron showers in his spark pulse felt brighter and clearer than ever before. Knockout’s smile was wicked though hidden under plating, biolights radiating, and he laughed to himself at Starscream’s last communication.

"Be good. And if you can’t be good, don’t get caught."

Whatever happens, never be caught.

The dangerous thinking took them down a sharp ramp suddenly, with a hard angle, and going much too fast. He didn’t even touch his break as he took the exit; rather, the red volante transformed. His speed propelled Knockout over the railing in a tremendous vault he could have never hoped to leap without switching between modes.
He cleared without a scratch, and he fell the few stories down.
He fell through the air, flipping to put his peds first and engines still roaring over the wind that rushed by. The view was frightening and exhilarating all at once, nearly too fast for him to make out any of the buildings and discern where he was going. What once were terrifying thoughts— such as being alone, unprotected, disobeying Megatron’s command, falling off of an overpass— became obstacles, and Knockout, quite literally, threw himself at them all at once.
Live or die, he would be the one at the wheel.

All the red volante could think of was how great this felt and not at all about the obvious inevitable injury he was launching himself into. 

sandlake:

;w;

sandlake:

;w;

ask-smokescreen:


Scrap, Smokescreen …you’re smokin’

Aww man, I really am! Someone should stop me!
But no one’s going to!

I’m going to be mature and withhold that begging question.

ask-smokescreen:

Scrap, Smokescreen …you’re smokin’

Aww man, I really am! Someone should stop me!

But no one’s going to!

I’m going to be mature and withhold that begging question.

alpha113n-redshirt-eradicon:

Source

alpha113n-redshirt-eradicon:

Source

ongnami:

;-9

ongnami:

;-9

ask-dr-knockout:

thatbuggygirl:

giantrobotgirlfriend:

"Why is try hard used as an insulting turn of phrase? No one appreciates how hard I try.”

Oh, poor babby! You get an A+ for effort.

There there Starscream. *pat pat*
ask-dr-knockout:

thatbuggygirl:

giantrobotgirlfriend:

"Why is try hard used as an insulting turn of phrase? No one appreciates how hard I try.”

Oh, poor babby! You get an A+ for effort.

There there Starscream. *pat pat*

ask-dr-knockout:

thatbuggygirl:

giantrobotgirlfriend:

"Why is try hard used as an insulting turn of phrase? No one appreciates how hard I try.”

Oh, poor babby! You get an A+ for effort.

There there Starscream. *pat pat*

ksarsis:

by ヤミワラ

ksarsis:

by ヤミワラ

parallelpie:

wut

parallelpie:

wut

milagrosen:

And more buff KO for fun.

milagrosen:

And more buff KO for fun.