his little optic

anonymous asked:

I have this complicated HC that if Knockout ever had a son or daughter, he would prep and prettify them so much. Make sure that their paint and wax are always maintained, and decorate them with the finest crystals on special occation. Its more or less him wanting his child having the luxury he and Breakdown never got to had, so Its not like hes trying to control them. They would always be his and his conjux's little bitlet. Plus if the child was a pacifist, he and BD wouldnt force them fight.


No, but, Knockout has always been a personal favorite of mine. He and Breakdown’s kid would probably be one of the safest in that time and age; and even though he’d spoil the FUCK out of them, he’d still teach them with the morals that are hard to find in a regrowing society. He wants his little starry-opticed bitlet to grow up to be a strong, respectable ‘bot; with a childhood they can remember fondly. Something Knockout wishes he had himself.

anonymous asked:

"Mr Tekhatha sir?" Small child tugs on the hem of Zenyatta's pants. "Where did your soul get made? My new dad said I don't have one and I can't go to Heaven without one."

Swiveling his head in the direction of the little voice, his optics come to rest on the small child, the innocent concern and fear held within those large, wide eyes front and center and threatening to overflow. The notion that any parental figure would have told one so small and malleable that they did not have a soul, that they would be trapped, forever, on this plain of existence was truly horrifying and he drew himself up a little in shock.

Aware this could unsettle the little one further, Zenyatta adjusted his position, hovering a little lower until he was level with the child’s gaze. A hand, large and multi-segmented, reached out and rested lightly upon the small shoulder of the other, eclipsing it completely behind metal and servos.

“How can your new father be so certain if he does not know where souls are made himself? How can he be certain that even he possesses one?” A wry chuckle and the omnic shook his head slowly, once, twice. “Young one, answer me this.”  Zenyatta required no answer of course, the child had already given him the answers. “Do you exist? Do you think for yourself, do you have thoughts that are of your own creation and do you act on your own volition? Do you feel happiness or sadness? Then you already have a soul, a strong one.”

Leaning back, he held the young one at arms length, gently, “One only needs to look at you to see that.  Your would be father, I believe, is very much mistaken. As to where souls are made, I could hazard a guess but it would be no more than my personal thoughts. The truth is, none of us really know until we reach that place.”

New adjustments (for theguardianwiththematrix),g

Shadow chirrped as her carrier held her close to his chest. Her little blue optics looked up at him, her little tail tapped his arm, her little clawd didgits grasped his much bigger ones. She was two months old, she couldn’t talk yet but she could crawl everywhere. Her audials twitched happily as she nuzzled his chest seemingly oh so innocent at the time.