#hes the reason i SWERVE;;;(($;$

[random-cockroach]

@keferon BITING YOU FOR ADDING THIS BIT. I DIDN'T LIKE HOW THEIR PATH WENT IN IDW. YOU JUST WENT AND SAID "Who needs Starscream, Onslaught might find it out by himself" AND I EXPLODED

[danwhobrowses]

Okay so I've watched Dynasty, and I get that people are upset that Mox won again. But here's the thing;

Wrestling never lets lightning strike twice, Swerve winning 1 year after winning the title before at the same event already felt like there was the risk of fuckery to rain on the parade. Swerve was also mega protected in defeat and while Moxley's reign does lack in luster, the villain does have to win sometimes - it makes his defeat all the sweeter.

Swerve losing here however might just be a necessary evil. If Swerve won, the Owen would be locked for Hangman on the same night the first round began - at least now Ospreay is back to being considered as a potential winner too. And it's not to say that Swerve won't get a second chance, All In Texas is 3 months away; Spring BreakThru, Double or Nothing, AND Fyter Fest are in between that, there's still time to deal with the Bucks and use winning as stakes to get a second chance.

Are there places AEW still needs to improve? For sure, all companies have that; several talents are absent in all divisions, several talented wrestlers fall lower in the pecking order than their talent should allow, and several talent who are over are in need of something substantial even if it's feuds that'll lead into challenging for a title. But if you can endure 2 years of Bloodline main events you can endure a bit more of the Death Riders. Dynasty was still good, AEW is still good, don't let Moxley retaining make you forget that.

[skeletalheartattack]

[deus-ex-mona]

we’re really in it now chizuchan…

[torchstelechos]

Siffrin and Loop are the same person like Coke Cola and Shasta Cola are the same thing, which basically means they sure did start with the same idea but fuck is the outcome super different despite their similarities

[tearlessrain]

when I was a kid my dad refused to get us tested for autism because he didn't want to acknowledge that there was anything "wrong" with us, so instead he just got mad when I had to go stand outside on the deck while physically shaking because he was blasting frankie valley and the four seasons through the house at earth shattering volumes and for crying when I was like seven because he was pretending he was going to run over a cat and I thought he actually would.

it would be another twenty years before I would start to become capable of expressing discomfort to other people without feeling guilty for it. thank goodness he saved us from the trauma of being diagnosed with autism though.

[random-cockroach]

[fallout-lou-begas]

really hoping that kris vs julia is kind of early in the show so i can tune in for it and tune out without staying up too late

[anghraine]

#i love the bi4gay scenes so much ajdfkja;kjfdkjlaf#<< prev#YES (@las-lus)

Reblogging for womanless Spock Wednesday :D

2x14 - Wolf in the Fold

[quibble-auk]

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

Hah, yeah…. More of this au…. Same not really important roadtrip.

Found family roadtrips are my favorite. I regret nothing. I’ll probably make more. Jep learning about earth through a roadtrip is living rent free in my head and it refuses to stop.

This one has a little more angst… just a bit? Basically nothing compared to what I usually do haha. I had fun though.

—

The road stretched out like a ribbon of ink, unspooling beneath the tires with a low, constant hum. Somewhere behind them, the glow of the last truck stop had vanished into the dark. Ahead, the headlights carved twin tunnels of light through the thick forest, dancing over tree trunks and foliage. Pines towered above them, kudzu crawling up the wiry titans. Shrubs and smaller trees crept up between the giants, leaves shuffling in a late night breeze.

Devin sat in the front passenger seat, feet propped on the dash, his legs lit up in flashes from the occasional reflector strip. Music provided by one of Sid’s cassettes drifted through the ambulance, low and mournful and just static enough to sound like a ghost on the edge of a dream.

The rest of the van was quiet. Sunni was asleep in the back, curled in their makeshift bed. Devin had been with him, but had woken up some time ago from a nightmare and had decided to accompany Sid in the front of the cab. His older brother watched the road quietly, the window rolled down to let the cool wind pass through the van.

There was no real reason for him to be up, other than the sake of an appearance. Their vehicle—Jeopardy—was perfectly capable of driving himself, he had done it plenty of times. The alien robot was probably better at driving than all of them, considering his alt mode was a vehicle.

That was Devin’s take on it though, both the twins would disagree.

Sid leaned forward slightly, one elbow hooked over the open window frame, the breeze tousling his already-messy hair. The faint smell of pine and asphalt drifted in, chased by the sweet rot of damp leaves.

“You okay?” he asked without looking over.

Devin blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. “Yeah,” he said, too fast. Then, quieter, “Yeah. Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Was it the dream again?” Sid’s tone was casual, but there was a razor-thin edge to it—older-brother sharp. He cast a glance at his brother from the corner of his eye.

They didn’t need to state what the dream was, Sid and Sunni had dealt with the aftermath of the recurring dream for months now. It was always the same: Sue Rose looming over him, knife in hand, pistol on her hip. Blood dripped from her forearm where Devin had managed to claw at her. She smiled, icy blue eyes alight with something that Devin could only describe as madness. She would laugh, mock him, lean over him and torment him.

Sometimes the twins were there, watching with distasteful expressions. Or Sue had already gotten to them, their broken bodies slumped over, halos of blood crowning their places on the grimy concrete.

Then at the end—once she had her fun—the pistol would rest on his forehead. The cold metal burning against his skin, the smell of blood and gunpowder overwhelming. Devin always woke up before she pulled the trigger, gasping for air and trembling in a cold sweat.

Devin shifted in his seat, pulling his legs in and hugging his knees loosely to his chest. The dash was cold under his bare calves. He watched the road flicker beneath them, thin and ever-stretching. He weakly nodded, head thumping against the window of the passenger door.

“I hate her voice,” he murmured finally, his voice barely carrying over the music and thrum of travel. “It’s always the same. Like she’s right there. Real as anything.”

Sid didn’t answer immediately. The tape hissed and warbled as it switched tracks, now playing something with a deeper synth line, more mournful. It was one that Devin didn’t recognize—one of the music files that Jeopardy had saved for his personal use, hailing from the foreign world of Cybertron. The music was quieter, allowing the two boys in the front to speak.

“It's not real,” Sid said, not quite gently. He looked over at his brother, emotion burning in his eyes as he took in Devin’s curled form. His hand flinched, hesitating for just a moment before reaching out and firmly grasping Devin’s shoulder in a show of support. “Just a memory your brain won’t let go of.”

“It feels real,” Devin countered, quieter than before. He kept his gaze firmly set on the passing forest, heat rising in his face from the thought of the dream. He swallowed thickly, blinking away the tears that threatened to blur his vision. “Every time.”

His voice cracked a little at the end, a tremor that he quickly buried by adjusting himself in his seat. The trees out there blurred like watercolor—green and black and endless. The suffocating kudzu oddly vibrant against them despite the late hour.

Sid gave a quiet sigh, more breath than sound, and let his hand drop from Devin’s shoulder. He didn’t push the conversation further. There wasn’t much to say, really—not unless he wanted to open old wounds. And this wasn’t the time. Not with the forest watching them like it did, dark and close and heavy with the weight of memory.

There was nothing that the older boy could do to spare his younger brother from what haunted his mind. Despite his best efforts—and Sunni’s—the dream kept on returning. It was only recently that the twins themselves had discovered the reason why—Devin’s involvement in the underground, the club, and wronging a gang leader. Sid could see the weight of it all resting on Devin’s shoulders, but knew that his brother needed time before he would be willing to talk.

When he was ready, Sid would be there.

The road twisted ahead like a snake, its curves slow and deliberate. Moss-draped limbs arched over the asphalt in places, forming half-lit tunnels in the weak reach of the headlights. Crickets sang their endless chorus outside the cab, broken up only by the occasional rustle of something unseen in the underbrush. The gentle music still lulled, mixing with the songs of the night and forming a reminiscent harmony.

Devin let the music wash over him, his eyes half-lidded as the forest pressed in on either side. The shadows between the trees felt deeper here, like something older than the road itself had laid down roots and grown over everything with intent. He watched the kudzu sway like slow breath and wondered, not for the first time, how long the South had been haunted.

“Did Sam ever take you out to that one town past Marksville?” Sid asked suddenly, his voice a low murmur. He cast a wary glance at Devin, “It had this big fire tower, he had a friend that lived there.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Dad didn’t take me places.” Devin sighed out eventually. The blonde didn’t bother to look over at his brother, focusing on the trees instead. Something like envy pinched in his heart, jealousy that he had buried long ago.

Sid nodded slowly and used the rear view mirror to glance at the sleeping form of Sunni. He paused for a moment before he looked back at Devin and smiled.

“I’ll take you sometime,” Sid said simply. “It’s not much—just an old steel skeleton rusting in the woods. But the climb’s good for your head. Makes the world feel small, in a good way.”

Devin’s lips twitched, a near-smile ghosting across his face before it vanished again. “I’d like that.”

The words hung between them like a truce.

The road rolled on. The forest thickened again, swallowing the sky, the stars, and any sense of time. The only certainty was the sound of tires over asphalt, the low hum of the engine, and the strange alien lullaby humming from Jeopardy’s speakers. It was beautiful in a way Devin didn’t quite understand—like grief strung out over lightyears, longing translated into tones only machines could make.

Then, without warning, something crashed through the underbrush on the left side of the road. A blur of white, legs kicking—eyes wide like polished glass, a large set of alters.

A deer.

It bolted directly in front of them and froze.

Devin heard Jeopardy exclaim something in a wild combination of clicks, chimes and whirs. The plating that made the walls rippled and flared.

“Shit!” Sid shouted, wrenching the wheel instinctively, feet going to slam on the brake pedal. “Don’t swerve for Bambi!”

Both Sid and Jeopardy tried to correct—sending the van veering to the side.

Devin slammed a hand against the dash, feet dropping from their perch. His seatbelt barely caught him from slamming into the dashboard entirely. Loose items fell forward. Devin heard Sunni slam into the small divider between the front of the van and cabin. The blonde twin yelled, duffel bags and boxes of snacks falling over him.

The large buck flinched but remained in the road, just a few yards away now.

The van veered sharply, tires screaming against the blacktop as gravel spat up from the shoulder. Headlights jittered across the woods—branches, glinting eyes in the dark—Devin screamed. The sides of the cab shifted, falling away and leaving Sid and Devin exposed.

Sid screamed.

The metal of the cabin trembled, as if it was trying to follow in the footsteps of the cabin but unable to complete its task. The side doors broke off, shifting and twisting in a way that Devin had learned meant Jeopardy was transforming. The metal formed into two large arms. Jeopardy’s hands shooting out to dig into the asphalt of the road.

The sound was like thunder being torn apart—grinding metal, rushing air, the roar of displaced earth. Jeopardy's transformation wasn’t violent, but it felt like the world itself was groaning under the weight of it. The van’s form split along seams that weren’t visible seconds ago, machinery folding in on itself and reshaping in practiced, alien movements. Sparks flew up as the front half of the van dragged in the ground.

Devin clutched the seat, breath knocked from him, his eyes wide and face contorted in a silent scream.

Jeopardy halted the forward momentum with a jarring lurch. They stopped less than a foot from the buck, who blinked once, nostrils flaring. The nose of the van mere inches from its midsection. The deer bolted into the brush with a flash of pale fur and a crash of brittle branches.

Silence hit them like a wave.

The silence was not peace—it was a vacuum. Heavy and unnatural. It pressed against Devin’s ears like a sudden drop in altitude, a stillness that screamed louder than the chaos moments before.

Jeopardy remained frozen in place, his hands still embedded in the cracked asphalt, only his arms transformed. Steam hissed from hidden vents along his shoulders, curling around the mangled remnants of what had been the van's side doors. Plating sticking out and flared up in mistranslation, not quite settling right. The entire van trembled.

The forest seemed to reel from the sudden shift. Even the crickets had gone mute.

Sid let out a breath that stuttered halfway through. “Everyone okay?” he asked, voice pitched high with the edge of leftover adrenaline.

From the back, there was a groan. “Define okay,” Sunni muttered, pushing aside a fallen box of instant mac and cheese. “My face hurts and I think I’m covered in Slim Jims.”

Devin nodded, still too rattled to speak. He wasn’t sure if the world had tilted off-axis, or if his heart was just beating hard enough to make it feel that way.

A low chime came from Jeopardy—less language, more pulse, like sonar checking for danger. His voice followed a second later, warped slightly by the strain of maintaining partial transformation. “I—uh—yeah? I… I think so?”

Sid shoved the heel of his hand into his forehead and laughed once—short, sharp, not entirely sane. He hunched over the steering wheel, “That’s good. That’s—great.”

Then he leaned out the side of the broken cab, eyes scanning the tree line. He laughed again, adrenaline making his hands shake far more than he would ever admit, “Heh—Anyone manage to count the points on that thing? Fucking… ten pointer or something”

Jeopardy finally uncurled his fingers from the road, large gashes left behind from where he had torn into it. His hands trembled as the transformation happened in reverse, plates sliding back to place and reforming the side of the van with ease. “What… what was that?”

Sid sat back in the half-reformed seat, the vinyl creaking beneath him, and let out another shaky breath. He scrubbed a hand through his dark hair and looked over at Devin, who was still white-knuckled and staring at where the deer had been, like it might materialize again out of the shadows just to finish the job.

“That,” Sid muttered, trying to regain control of his breathing, “was Bambi trying to end our goddamn tour.”

Jeopardy’s plates creaked softly, settling back into place with delayed mechanical sighs. The sound reminded Devin of a pressure cooker cooling on the stove—something tense and barely-contained now letting out steam. He watched a small puff of vapor curl past the edge of the dash vent and disappear into the night. His breath finally came easier, but only a little.

Sid hadn’t said anything else. He was gripping the wheel too tight, jaw set, eyes locked on the road with the sort of focus Devin only saw when things were bad.

In the back, Sunni made a noise—half a laugh, half a groan. “This was a wonderful way to wake up. Next time you're allowed to shake me or whatever.”

Devin swallowed and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. He ignored his brothers’ attempts to lighten the mood, his mind latching onto what had happened. It replayed the scene over and over. If Jeopardy had been a normal van would they have hit the buck? His voice scraped its way out of his throat, quieter than he wanted. “It was just a deer.”

Sid looked at him, a ghost of a nervous smile on his lips and huffed. “Yeah. But a real asshole of a deer.”

Despite the lingering adrenaline and fear, Jeopardy began to slowly roll forward, much more cautiously this time. There was an odd clicking, Jeopardy clearing his throat, “Do all deer… do that?”

Sid sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Pretty much, yeah. Suicidal forest horses. Nature’s middle finger.”

There was a beat. Then Sunni let out a muffled laugh from the back, followed by the sound of him moving around wrappers and cans, “That’s going on a t-shirt.”

“But why?” Jeopardy made a confused, almost indignant warble as he slowly regained speed until they were cruising at the speed limit again. “It did not appear injured or chased. It simply… ran.” A pause, like a system checking for corruption. “At us.”

“That’s kind of their thing,” Devin muttered, voice flat. He let his head fall back against the window with a soft thud. A new wave of exhaustion rushed over him like warm water as the adrenaline faded. “Deer don’t make sense. They just… do. Like gravity. Or bad luck.”

Jeopardy grumbled—literally grumbled, his internal engines shifting pitch like a low growl. “That’s a terrible evolutionary trait.”

“Tell that to the deer,” Sid said, his voice gaining strength again. He reached out, thumped the top of the dash lightly with his palm—his version of a pat on the back for their mechanical riend. “You did good, though. If you hadn’t caught us like that…”

He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t have to. The shape of what could have happened still hung heavy in the air.

Devin closed his eyes. He could feel his heartbeat now, finally slowing. Still too fast, but at least it wasn’t pounding in his throat anymore. His hands unclenched from where they’d curled around the seat edge.

Sunni was sitting up in the back now, brushing powdered cheese off his jacket. “So what’s the damage? Anything broken?”

“Some paneling, superficial mostly,” Jeopardy replied after a soft internal whir. His voice slipping into what Sunni had nicknamed “the report voice” it dropped an octave, became a bit too mechanical, much more steady, and completely emotionless. “A door joint is misaligned, but I can fix it once we stop. Nothing internal, just surface level scrapes.”

Sid gave a short nod at that, tapping the wheel twice with his fingers, a rhythm that was more about grounding himself than any real decision. “Good. That’s good.” He exhaled slowly and gave the windshield a half-smile like it had personally done him a favor. “We’ll stop up ahead. Find a turnout or something. Let you patch up.”

Devin kept his eyes closed, letting the rhythm of the road settle back into something almost soothing. The trees blurred by once more, the weight of what had almost happened pressing down, then slowly easing. He could still see the deer's eyes if he tried too hard. Too bright. Too aware.

“I think I peed a little,” Sunni said, deadpan.

Sid snorted.

Even Jeopardy let out a low mechanical chuckle, a cascade of chimes tumbling like silver coins. Devin huffed something that might’ve been a laugh, or maybe just a sound to remind himself he was still capable of making one.

For a few miles, they let silence settle again—this time, less suffocating. The trees no longer felt so close. The music hadn’t started back up, and Jeopardy didn’t offer anything new. Maybe even he knew the moment needed time to breathe.

They all did.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Look at Me Like That Again

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Waitress!Reader

Summary: Bucky desperately needs your attention while you’re on shift in his bar.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: so much longing; Bucky is a man in love; mild alcohol use; bar setting; Bucky being a dramatic kicked puppy

Author’s Note: Oh I enjoyed writing this so much. Thank you for the idea, my lovely!! I hope you like what I made of your cute little prompt ♡

2k Drabble Challenge Masterlist | Masterlist

It’s the fifteenth time you've passed him.

Fifteen.

And Bucky Barnes is counting.

Because you don’t look at him when you pass.

And it’s been over an hour since you walked in wearing that stupid little apron that hugs your waist and the shirt he hates because it’s too tight and too low and everyone looks at you too long when you wear it. Everyone except him, of course.

Bucky doesn’t look.

He watches.

There’s a difference, you see.

You breeze through the bar as though you’ve got the whole damn place in your pocket, and maybe you do. These guys love you. They light up when you laugh, when you lean in to hear them over the music, when you call them hon in that voice soft enough to sew people back together.

You’re the only brightness in this place and you don’t even know it.

Your hair is already starting to come loose. You are balancing three empty glasses in one hand and a notepad in the other, reciting someone’s order from memory while still smiling, still glowing.

Bucky is leaned up against the bar like a damn decoration. He’s been standing here, useless, for at least twenty minutes. Arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes strained on your every step. You haven’t spared him so much as a glance since the jukebox changed songs, now crooning some worn-out rock ballad from two decades ago. Since the light shifted and the golden hour crawled in through the windows as if it was chasing you.

God, you look good in gold.

He doesn’t even know what to do with himself. He’s cleaned the same spot three times. Cleaned the same glass four times before he realized he wasn’t even holding it anymore. He doesn’t even drink soda but the can of Coke next to him has been sweating beside his hand for half an hour. Warm now. Forgotten.

Just like him apparently.

You walk by. Don’t see him. Or maybe you do - but you don’t stop. Don’t smile just for him.

He can’t have that.

Not when you just smiled for that asshole in booth seven who licked his lips when you placed his beer.

He doesn’t know what his expression might look to others but he doesn’t care. He is sincerely displeased.

Sixteenth time. You float past, apron flaring, pen poised, eyes stitched to your tray or the screen or the sticky table by the window, but it’s never him.

He doesn’t like that. At all. He needs your attention, and he needs it now.

So when you swerve past again, too busy balancing an order for the back booth where one of his patrons is dramatically retelling some story to the others like he isn’t loud enough for the whole bar to hear, Bucky does what any reasonable man would do.

He pokes you. Right in the side.

You jolt mid-step, the drinks on your tray tilting before you balance them out. “Bucky.”

But he doesn’t hear the warning edge in your tone. Because your eyes meet his and suddenly everything inside him goes very, very quiet.

“I've been standin’ here,” he says, calm as ever, trying to sound like someone who isn’t folding from the inside out. “Watching you walk past me like I’m invisible. That’s cruel, sweetheart. Cold-blooded.”

You roll your eyes, though there is amusement tugging at your mouth. “You’re not invisible.”

“Oh, good,” he drawls, leaning forward, eyes shining beneath dark lashes. “Then I don’t have to haunt the place. Thought maybe I died and no one told me.”

You sigh. “You’re a child.”

“You’re the one ignoring me in my own damn bar.”

“I’m working, Barnes,” you emphasize.

He shrugs, a slow, unapologetic shift of his shoulders. “And I’m just standin’ here. Bein’ patient. Watching you ignore me in new and creative ways.”

You step back, turn, face him fully this time. He meets your gaze like he’s been waiting for it all night. Maybe all week. Maybe always.

You stare at him as though he’s something between a hurricane warning and a kicked puppy at your feet.

“You poked me,” you deadpan.

“Did,” he says, grinning. Not even a little sorry. “Would’ve waved, but my hand’s all tired from waiting.”

You huff. But it’s not annoyance. It’s the laugh you’re trying not to give him. The soft kind. The one that lives behind your teeth when he says dumb things with that mouth that should know better.

His chest warms. Truly warms. As though someone struck a match behind his ribs and the light spills into his bloodstream.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you, Bucky. But I do have work to do, alright? So you’ll have to excuse me.” You don’t look that apologetic either when you turn around again and trek down the bar to the booth where people are waiting for you.

But he’s waiting for you too. Tragically so. He doesn’t take his eyes off you when you place the drinks, when the guys thank you, when you smile that smile back, when you turn and walk away, when you are about to pass him again.

Poke.

You sigh as if you expected it.

He leans in slightly, as if he could soak in your heat and keep it. But your smell already makes him dizzy. “I’m not gonna stop poking you until you give me some attention, doll.”

You stare at him as if you want to throw a napkin at his face. Or kiss him. He prefers the latter. Although the former surely would be a privilege since it’s you throwing it.

“I do give you attention, Barnes. I’m literally talking to you right now,” you counter, slightly exasperated, but there is that fond smile forming, you just don’t let it out fully.

But it still does things to him. Hits his heart first, then spreads - to his cheeks, his fingertips, down his spine. That smile is a gift, a spark. It makes him foolish. Hopeful. It makes him dream in full color.

Bucky taps the counter, shaking his head. “You know you’ve walked by eighteen times now?”

“Eighteen?”

“Eighteen. I counted. Steve’s my witness.”

You glance behind the bar. Steve’s got two glasses in his hands and is pretending not to watch. Is pretending not to smirk.

There’s a pause. You’re still close enough to touch. The fabric of your shirt brushes his arm when you move. You smell like citrus and cinnamon gum and whatever soap you use that’s probably way too fancy for a dive like this.

But you don’t belong in places that are easy.

“You’ve been runnin’ around like you’re holding the ceiling up,” he says quietly, not even meaning to. “Just wanted to remind you I’m still here.”

And for a breath - a half-second crack in the wall you’re keeping up - you look at him. Really at him. He might even believe you see the thing he’s too afraid to name, but you don’t run from it.

“I know, Buck,” you say, smiling sweetly. Like a secret sunrise just for him.

And his body shuts down. Doesn’t even let him take in some air. Who needs that anyway when he’s got you?

Your eyes catch and hold. The noise of the bar slips sideways. Everything tilts.

Then someone calls out your name - loud, without the care he uses when saying your name, just another order. You turn with a smile already forming on your lips, moving back into your orbit, back into theirs.

But before you go, you look at him over your shoulder. Just for a second. Just long enough to ruin him for the rest of the night.

He watches you walk seven steps to the bar's edge.

He grins. Leans back. Taps his boot against the counter.

That’s alright, baby.

He’ll be here waiting.

Poking.

Always.

[keferon]

On the topic of drivers and their cars, headcanon that Ratchet was an ambulance driver at one point. Which if you don’t realize, means getting very good at driving at fast as fucking possible-road laws and physics be damned.

So imagine Blurr and Jazz get into some boasting contest of who’s the better driver car combination. Blurr’s all like, “I’m a literal professional race car driver and Swerve is a powerhouse of speed.” While Jazz is like, “K but Prowl has the build of a pursuit vehicle, he’s literally built to chase down speeders like you. PLUS we got that connection.”

And Ratchet, hearing the beginnings of what will surely end in at least two or more idiots being injured, opts for the “proactive” approach.

“Hey Kid, mind if I take the wheel?”

Cut to everyone learning something new about Ratchet, and Drift learning something new about himself

Oh my god AHAHAHAH WAIT

Hear me out. Ratchet can drive fast and crazy as fuck. Deadlock can drive fast and crazy as fuck too. Remember that one panel where Deadlock is upset so he transforms into his vehicle mode to drive down the long ass stairs?? Instead of??fucking walking??

Blurr is fast but he’s careful. He would go around or avoid any obstacles.

Prowl is a bit more reckless but he’s also very respectful of earth laws and rules.

Deadlock and Ratchet? THEY DONT GIVE A SINGLE FUCK~

Of course most of the time Ratchet would drive calmly and safely. But if he had a good reason to go fast? If he reeeaally needed to hurry? He would turn into a speed demon. And it will only become worse with Deadlock because Deadlock isn’t just a race car. He’s heavily armoured race car. Shielded by inches of Cybertronian metal plating. Deadlock could break walls without really slowing down.

Blurr and Jazz be busy manoeuvring and finding their way using human roads and streets and tunnels while Deadlock makes sure his human didn’t forget the seat belt and immediately fucks off through the nearest metal fence.

So while Blurr's driving like this:

And JP doing this:

Deadlock and Ratchet are like:

[mocchii-writes]

could you do a thanos x reader fic (squid game), where the reader is dating thanos already but is apart of gi hun's group in the games and is really sweet and kind. so then when thanos approaches her the boys (especially dae ho and jung bae) get all protective ready to fight: only to be absolutely shocked when the reader reveals that's her boyfriend.

I hope nobody catch us (but I kind of hope they catch us)

Paring: Choi Su Bong (Thanos) x fem!reader Summary: Your boyfriend just wants to see you. Unfortunately, your friends aren't in the loop. Words: 750 Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death? lmk if there's something ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

A/n: pleaseeee send requests!! I have writer's block grr. Hope this is alright, anon! ♡

~🍡🍡

This place was terrifying. Obviously. Almost 100 people died. You're lucky, and you know that. Not just because you survived, but because you aren't alone. You met Su Bong, or as people call him, "Thanos" before the games, dating soon after. Neither of you had any idea the other was coming, but here you are. You noticed him easily; it's not like he's very inconspicuous. You didn't think he had seen you, and you were a little too busy at the moment to approach him.

See, the second reason you're so lucky is because of the people around you currently. You would like to call them your friends, but some seem a little friendlier than others. 456, or Gi Hun, seems to be the leader. To nobody's surprise, though, because he's apparently done this whole charade once before. After just barely scraping through Red Light, Green Light, you were approached during the team-making for game 2 by Dae Ho and thus migrated into this odd little family. They all seemed to like you, as you were very kind and lightened the group's mood.

The food didn't look the best, but you didn't have a lot of choices, so here you sat, listening to the light conversations. You had become a close-knit bunch after game 2, and you got along very well with Jung Bae and Dae Ho, joking around after brief introductions. You wanted to check in on Thanos after you saw him lose a fight before game 2, but your two groups seem to have some disputes, you thought it best to wait until you could briefly slip out of the group.

You hear the announcement of lights out soon, and some people in your group rise to clean up the litter around them from dinner. You join Jung Bae and laugh at something he says, walking over to dispose of the trash. You hear a voice behind you as Dae Ho's face unfamiliarly hardens.

"Hey, my flower, why didn't you tell me there was an angel right in this room?" Thanos calls to you. You smile and turn around, but Dae Ho's voice stops you from responding.

"Get out of here, she isn't interested." He calls. You can tell he isn't used to the confrontation, but he's soon backed up by Jung Bae, walking next to you.

"We don't want people like you around us, get lost." He demands, and you feel your confusion pouring out. Dae Ho nods and walks in front of you. Thanos is almost taken aback but is quickly calm again, shooting a response.

"Who do you think you are, bro?" He approaches Dae Ho, challenging him. "Stopping me from seeing my girl? You jealous? You don't stand a chance, man." Dae Ho laughs, but you can tell he's a little scared.

You can see Nam Su walking, at least you think that was his name. He promoted a club you had been to before and was fairly friendly. Unlike now, looking like he wants to murder something. You can also see Gi Hun approaching the situation with the rest of your group, and you finally snap out of your spectating haze, biting your lip.

"Guys, wait! wait!" You say, swerving around Dae Ho to intersect the confrontation, "Don't fight! This is just a misunderstanding." You flash your sweetest smile, and your friends look at you, confused. Dae Ho is still glaring at Thanos, but he's probably listening. "Thanos isn't creeping on me. We're dating."

There's a thick silence that ensues. Lots of glances between you and the boy behind you, until someone finally speaks.

"What...?" Jung Bae says, smiling. "You're dating this guy?" He laughs.

You smile, "That's not the point." You laugh as you look at Thanos, noticing his shoulders relaxing a bit more. "I'm sorry for not telling you guys sooner, I didn't think it would be very good news."

You press your lips together and then stifle a laugh as Dae Ho responds, "It's not. I just- never would have guessed." He smiles at you. You notice others in your group nodding as the tension dies down. You laugh and shrug, feeling a hand on your wrist and walking away with Thanos, mouthing a brief I'll be back! as you talk to Thanos, laughing.

"You could've warned me your friends were such bitches." He teases you, smiling.

"I'm sorry, baby. Don't call them that, at least in front of me." You hear him chuckle as your fingers interlace, him glancing back one more time before moving on.

Hope this works ♡ lmk if I misunderstood or there's any mistakes!

send requests!!

[random-cockroach]

Hits "try again" button, after previous turn ended poorly again

Better luck next time!

Death loop au by @keferon :3

[sixiphus]

a small comic on the events of transformers exodus: chapter 15! this is mainly on the focus of orion's pov at his realization that megatron is no longer on his side.

this follow up comic is now from megatronus' pov; explains more his thought process leading up to the conclusion that orion had betrayed him. the lines from the first page are lines from chapter 10. the passage describes his tone as "contemplative" and to me that speaks of him indirectly voicing out his doubts of orion and suspecting that there is something more to orion than his desire to help megatron and bring change to cybertron. more to orion than the cause they both fight for. there isn't. he is wrong in his assumptions of orion and i try to show that in the second page with orion's awaiting look at megatronus. he wants approbation and he thought that he did what he could to help the cause by trying to appease the council. but megatronus' thoughts have swerved over to the conclusion that orion has betrayed him and he had always planned for this to happen. of course other factors do come into play with this (i.e. the high council themselves adding fuel to megatronus' rage and their overall dismissal of him during the trial + orion's speech being. mm. very appeasing to the council despite his anger, but that is a discussion for another day.) but i wanted to really bring focus to that underlying sense of doubt between the two of them that really become the root cause for their fallout; showing the real reason for their connection inevitably breaking despite sharing the same cause.

[madamadamiu]

If the list light cat shelter had an ending similar to the IDW comic's ending, it would go something like this:

Rung unexpectedly pulls out all the stops, and manages to get all of the cats adopted out! Unfortunately, you can't have a cat shelter with no cats, so the Lost Light is forced to shut down. A few notable fates of the kitties:

Drift and Ratchet get adopted out together. However, Ratchet sadly passes away not long after. He dies in a warm, loving home with Drift by his side.

Tailgate and Cyclonus get adopted out together, and live quite happily. For a long time afterwards, Whirl the goose can be seen loitering around where the shelter used to be. He seems sad and confused about where everyone went. One day, however, he appears in the yard of Cyclonus and Tailgate's new owner, and refuses to ever leave after that.

Rodimus is adopted by Thunderclash. Thunderclash loves him and gives him all the best treats and toys, but he has no other pets, and he often works long hours. Rodimus eventually becomes depressed from the crushing loneliness, his spark completely gone.

Nautica becomes the star of a pet blog.

Chromedome and Rewind are adopted together, however Rewind develops a degenerative disease that eventually leaves him blind. Chromedome spends long hours grooming him after he can no longer groom himself.

Swerve is adopted, surrendered to a different shelter, and then adopted again.

Ultra Magnus' new owner renames him "Minimus Ambus," and brushes him regularly, so he no longer appears as massive as he once did. As it turns out, the newly christened Minimus Ambus is not so grumpy when he isn't drowning under mountains of fur.

Ravage goes away to college and isn't heard from again for a very long time.

I said that all of the cats were adopted...but I lied. One cat simply couldn't find a new home. Unfortunately, the shelter can't stay open just for a single cat, so Megatron was transferred to the only shelter that could take him - a pro-euthanasia shelter. As he is handed over, the shelter worker there says that they don't know how long they'll be able to keep him - they'll try to find another no-kill shelter that will take him, but it's just as likely that they will have to put him down. No one ever finds out what became of him.

The reason Rung suddenly decided to make a big push to get all of the cats new homes? He himself has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. He wanted to make sure all of the cats had a place to call home before he was no longer around to take care of them. When he eventually dies, the world doesn't seem to notice. An obituary in the newspaper is the only sign that marks his passing, which reads: "The world may forget him, but the cats he saved never will."

Hey so this broke my heart into five bajillion pieces can you cut that out /lh

This has been living in the box for a while and I didn’t know if I wanted to let it out, but I feel like it would be a shame to keep it to myself.

As I keep writing more and more for the Cat Shelter AU, it’s hard to choose what kind of “ending” i want for it, if it would even happen. We all want the adventure to go on forever, right?

In the end, I decided I wanted to make a happier ending for the kitties. However, if the ending did go with the one that happened in the original MTMTE comic, it would probably look a lot like that.

Bravo🙏