#mechs discourse

[bookshopsbizarreblog]

It recently came to my attention that at least one of my "friends" thinks trains are homophobic, on this good Friday. Help me prove that their wrong.

[grimmsbride]

That's so true!!! I remember seeing a reader fic trashing amber but if we follow the canon ,mark is eve at the moment. Like they are literally doing mental gym to put amber into this. I don't justify her behaviour season 1 but she was trying to do better. I don't like to think about that but sometimes i ask myself if it's not just mysogynoir. Like Rex was the worst character being a asshole and a cheater but then turn a new leaf and everybody forgive him but amber doesn't get same treatment🙄.

literally that��s what it is misogynoir ( i believe that’s how you spell it don’t crucify me) and rex is a prime example. literally cheated and lied on eve plus was a dick oh but the moment he gets shot in the head and changes all is well.

when it comes to female character development (unfortunately especially black female characters) it is mostly ignored in favor of the male characters — especially the male lead.

i can’t count on one hand how many times i’ve argued with dude bros on my tiktok that just trash amber’s character, while simultaneously loving anissa.

i literally avoided watching invincible when it first came out because of the amber hate and i was so convinced she was the worst. actually watching you realize homegirl is seriously just a trouble teenager???

god forbid a girl want to be around her bf (it’s more complex then that yes, but still)

so seeing writers (especially fellow female writers) dog tf out of amber makes my skin, crawllll.. i don’t get it. just write her out if it’s that serious.

[choppedcowboydinosaur]

When people had that discourse on whether or not wheelchairs belong in fantasy, my view is it's okay to have wheelchairs in fantasy if you have it make sense within the universe. Also, you should make it look cool. That's what bugs me is that the twitter artists would just use normal wheelchairs. Why not use wheelchairs with spider legs, tank treads and etc. I don't care if people thought it looked lame in the Wild Wild West, I thought the spider leg wheelchair was cool! Be creative people!

[bluecookiesabi]

I think some of you guys don't seem to understand the Harkness Test

[chongoblog]

Things That Happen In Gravity Falls Without Context

It's implied that rich people control their children with a bell

A single episode is shockingly reminiscent of both Five Night's at Freddy's and Doki Doki Literature Club. This episode came out 3 years before DDLC and one month after FNAF

Mabel kisses Strong Bad

There are two clones of the main character that are still alive and living in the woods

Larry King confirms that llamas are nature's greatest warriors

An old couple is killed by rap music

One of the scariest monsters in the show is eaten alive and loves every second of it

Neil Cicierega wrote a song for it that was unfortunately never used (yes, seriously)

Everyone in the town is a tad strange, except, ironically, Cecil from Welcome to Night Vale

Boy bands are kept as pets

A character proves she is pure of heart by performing a drug bust on gnomes (this does not work)

Zombies are defeated by Ke$ha

The most discourse-generating part of the show is a 12 year old giving a time traveler a snowglobe

And old man almost fucks a spider

When someone tells you they don't have a tattoo, believe them.

Fucking up a science fair will inevitably lead to your brother being stuck in another dimension

If you stick your head in a portal, you speak in code for a little bit before you turn into a hillbilly

Get your son to pay attention to you by creating a mech beast

We are all blanchin', unless we find a cool gun.

By the end of the show, the mayor's last name is "Cutebiker"

The president gives Dipper a negative 12 dollar bill

Bill Cipher

[justsomuchhacking]

So like another thing about the transgender mecha discourse is like... the mech can be a metaphor for empowerment and an extension of the customizable self, but specifically for transfemmes the metaphor also works in the other direction!

The mech is safe. And it is familiar, and you have gotten used to controlling it. You are told that your highest purpose is violence, but that's not true about you, though it might be true of the mech.

The mech is safe. It is many layers of cold steel and machinery between you and the world. When people see the mech, they see power and strength. But you will have to crawl out of it if you wish to be seen and known by your name, instead of your callsign*.

The mech is safe. It does not take courage to pilot - it takes courage to leave. Anonymous, stoic violence in a shell that is not your body vs the horrifying ordeal of crawling out of a numb pile of metal and hoping people will love the weird-looking girl who is a little unused to socializing. On account of all the mech-piloting.

Anyway if I was going to write transgender mecha fiction the robot would be the closet. War is hell, truth is life, get out of the fucking robot, girl, and live!

Other small things I would include in an anti-war transgender mecha story:

"Why did you stop being a mecha pilot? You were so good at it!"

Patriarchal military industrial complex discovers trans people are just better at using the weird neural mech piloting interface. This plays out as badly as you'd expect.

"cis" pilot who has an unusually high sync with the mecha and the veteran pilots who Definitely Know.

Nothing good ever happens as a result of mecha battles and the reader should start to feel anxious about which beloved character Isn't Going To Be The Same after this one.

This would of course be very difficult to pull off in a way that's like... as fundamentally entertaining as giant robot fights where the giant robot is a metaphor for personal agency and the power of the individual, where a very traumatized trans girl incinerates mecha hitler with a blue-and-pink laser beam she got from self-actualizing. I recognize that my version is harder to make and definitely not for everyone. But I think it should be made. Both should be made!

*historical note here about callsigns - in fiction people choose their own but in the military these are chosen for you by your unit - and if yours is cool it usually means that your unit thinks you're a dweeb. If you try to make people use a callsign you chose for yourself, there is no doubt at all about whether you are a dweeb. So for me a callsign is a terrible stand-in for a true name. Knowing this fact ruins movies, because every Cool Callsign Protagonist makes you think "Iceman? Oh, he definitely got caught masturbating in the walk-in freezer".

[knightoflodis]

I had so many arguments with people over video game difficulty and all this shit. Do you know how disheartening it is for people to throw “it’s not for you!!!” at you over and over again for a game that is like 90% up your alley except for the crazy difficulty??? I don’t have the time or eye hand coordination to pound my head against the steep learning curve of Dark Souls games to get into them. But I do really like third person action games with swords and magic. The worlds look really cool. And it seems like I would have fun. But I don’t like having to grind out hours on just basic enemies trying to get used to the controls and to grind up experience and loot. Like. Some grinding is fine. If I feel like I am making progress. I felt like I was making no progress in Dark Souls. It was disheartening. Also. I am a fan of Armored Core games from the 2000s. Those games were hard and I sucked. But they are mecha games. Mecha games are very much for me. Yeah I wish they were a little more approachable and forgivable. But they are still FOR ME. I think at some point before the end of the year I am getting 6. I don’t know how I feel about the game still being ridiculously hard and some people struggling in the tutorial because it doesn’t teach you a specific move you need to beat a boss. But it’s Armored Core. I need to get it.

I can't even muster appropriate words for how much I hate that Dark Souls and other fromsoft games became the battle lines for a stupid fucking culture war around gaming.

You there. If you are obsessed with this notion of dark souls representing some haven of difficulty that's been long gone that must be held up as a beacon of this, then you are not serious and I dont care about you(also whoever made the call to Run that stupid prepare to Die campaign back with DS1).

What I do care about is that everything that is *chefs kiss* about these games gets lost in this bullshit. Every weapon has unique animations and plays differently, conveying a variety of playstyles that it expansive. The world's are rich, filled with an intriguing sense of mystery and malaise that is just so fucking delicious. Some of the best dialogue I've ever seen in terms of game writing, and the delivery from its cast is absolutely kino.

Is it harder than other action RPGs? Yeah sure somewhat. But it kills my soul, thread by thread, when I see reasonable people out there expressing a stark disinterest or even opposition in these fantastic games because they have been given a distinct impression that the developers have no interest in them, because they think the culture surrounding these games is "get good" that Miyazaki and co are some sweatlord capital G gamers brewing up the hardest game imaginable for some culture war, when they are actually cooking up one of the most thoughtful high fantasy Gothic experiences ever.

And fuckheads who planted a flag into these games, that the rest of us Straight up did not ask for, have convinced them not to play it and I cry and throw up every time.

[hoiststowline]

could i perhaps request a first kiss scenario with hoist please 🥹 he’s such a sweetheart i love him hehe

_hoist x reader

[a/n: i am so normal ab him i swear.]

Hoist is overly familiar with your tendency to ‘blow him kisses’, a gesture that never gets any easier to accept, whilst taking into account how often you use it. this is the first instance where he realizes he can’t suppress his abounding feelings for you, try as he may ever since he first recognized such affections. 

he’s too afraid to ruin something that means so much to him. it’s a desire but he’s convinced himself that it’s not a necessary one, a friendship he can force himself to be content with. Hoist settles, because he’s not accustomed to having something to settle for. the bottom line in any rationalization of the situation was that as long as you were pleased, Hoist had no reason to disagree with his original course of action. 

but you’re so enchanting, and suddenly in your presence he finds it arduous to keep his nonchalant demeanor from slipping. you look for conversation with him, discover that words arrive effortlessly when shared together. Hoist seldom finds himself alone anymore, delighted that the both of you are guilty of being at each other's side many hours of the day. there’s always something to talk about, he’s somewhat taken aback when you insist to hear about his day first. 

he’d tried to greet you as normal, hoping to have drawn up a facade that was stable enough to make it through the exchange. immediately, your brow furrows upon seeing him, even from your position on his desk your eyes study him from his helm to the ground. Hoist is lucky if he can hide anything from you, so he’s truthfully dumbfounded how you hadn’t discovered his true feelings for you yet. 

“Is everything okay?” you inquire, gentle as always and never one to pry. 

far too hastily, he nods. “Just fine.”

Hoist is enamored, trying to follow your story about a humorous interaction with a co-worker, but he’s gotten lost about halfway through. you had tried to get him to enter the discourse, even poking at his hand that had landed just beside you once he had sunk himself into his desk chair. there was nothing to discuss, he hadn’t been productive the past eight hours since he saw you last, so any recollection of his day would be boring. as always, he reminds you, he’d much rather hear about what you’ve been up to. 

yet, every time his gaze locks with yours, he feels sheepish, unable to focus. instead his optics then shift downward to your lips, and once that occurs, there’s little that will set him back on the rails. 

briefly, he wonders if you notice how often he stares at you. Hoist hopes it never comes across as insincere if he has been caught, not ever wishing to offend you. Primus knows he’s received enough elbows to the gut from Trailbreaker, especially when he’s been found out by the mech. 

“Again?” a fair blow to his side as he snaps his jaw shut, embarrassment flooding him temporarily. 

groaning, Hoist recalls rubbing his side before turning to his friend. “It’s not as easy as you think it is.”

Trailbreaker had actually mulled his response over before agreeing. “Nah, it's not, but ya don’t know that for sure. Not unless you actually try, H.” 

instantly, he’s snapped out of his reminiscence when your palm lands atop his servo. “Hoist? Are you sure you’re alright?”

a cursory ‘yes’ almost leaves him, but for once he actually gives pause. 

what would he gain from turning this opportunity down? if he dismisses your worries once more, he’d only be shelving this confession only to talk himself out of it once more. 

Hoist is hyper aware of how warm your palm is, daring to steal a glance. your hand is so small, it almost feels impossibly so, but he’s tugged back to reality when your fingers brush over his knuckles. 

then, you repeat the same motion, meaning you’re searching to comfort him, genuinely troubled by his unusual behavior. you’re patiently awaiting his answer, not being pushy or unfair, only forcing another admirable trait of yours to the forefront, your seemingly never ending patience. 

“No,” Hoist can’t move, all his joints feel like they are locked. somewhat aware that he has to continue so as to not appear unhinged, he hastily adds: “I mean, I’m fine. But there is something I have to tell you, y/n.” 

“Okay.” you extend, going to pull your hand back but Hoist is just that much faster, successfully but benignly taking your retreating hand between two of his digits. 

Hoist wouldn’t call it pouring his spark out, but he definitely added far too much additional information than called for. once he started, he couldn’t stop, rambling from how happy you make him feel, to the immense loneliness he experiences whenever the two of you are apart. it’s an offer, he’s proposing the idea of moving the friendship to something with a more definitive label, a romantic one. 

he’s expecting you to say no. his shoulders deflate amongst his chaotic nonsense, but it isn’t relief that claims it. it’s the anticipation that you don’t feel the same, the awaited rejection that has him wondering how he even gathered the courage to do this in the first place. 

somewhere in the middle, that envision changes, watching as your entire face alights. your smile is of a familiar compassion, but there’s a look in your eyes that has him stumbling over his words at times. listening to every word, you forbearingly wait until he’s concluded before trying to return the favor. 

yet, your mouth opens, and nothing comes to fruition. still all smiles, you’re entirely too stunned to try and conjure up anything like what Hoist just presented to you. 

“That was so sweet,” you whisper, voice breathy and hardly audible. unsure if that was meant more for you or for Hoist, the green mech above you goes rigid once more. 

“I didn’t quite catch that.” he treads, uncertainty seizing him like a vice.

instead of repeating yourself, you beckon him closer with your free hand. 

Hoist lowers himself, ungraceful his middle name. “Hm?” 

the servo that wasn’t holding yours grips the edge of his desk, almost bending under his weight as you leave a kiss atop his face-shield, tiny fingers ghosting under his chin in the most benevolent and loving touch he’s ever experienced. 

“You’re perfect.” you hum, unwilling to withdraw early. “I love you too, Hoist.”

[steelthroat]

I think Cybertronian atheism should work differently than ours like:

"It's not that primus doesn't exist, I just don't think of him as a god just because he's a creator and created me"

Like yk. He's there, he's a giant robot, he's the planet the Cybertronians inhabit... this doesn't have to mean something on a spiritual level for everyone.

Like i imagine the discourse in theology boards being like "when people say "oh look Primus created us all" okay but maybe we could do it too... WE ACTUALLY DO IT TOO DOES IT MAKE mechs in cold constructed factories GODS?"

Idk. Like i think that the fact that primus exists as a planet and giant Cybertronian/Cybertron is a hard one to miss, maybe there may be some skeptics sure, but few of them.

I think it would actually be interesting arguing about whether his will is something to keep in mind or not when talking about politics or society and that also bleeds into "primacy/no primacy" discourse.

And also i imagine there may be some Unicronian cults out there etcetera? Peopel arguing about his figure as a mythological or historical one? Hrrrrrrnnnn

[wealmostaneckbeard]

The politics in Lancer the mech pilot TTRPG seems center left to me. A good way to explain what's going on in that game's universe is with this overly long metaphor:

Imagine an alternate history where Nixon somehow beat JFK Jr to the white house, and once in office he lets Kissinger go nuts setting fascists up on an accelerated schedule. That's what Union's Second Committee was like. Then Tricky Dick procedes to nuke Vietnam a couple times. That's the Hercynia Crisis and that FTL Piston weapon launch. JFK and company ride the shock and horror of approaching nuclear war into office on the promise of de-escalation and enforcing civil rights, and they deliver. That's the coup that formed Union's Third Committee. Kissinger, Nixon, and the entire pentagon/raytheon corp take over NASA in Cape Canaveral, Florida where they form a tolerated corporatocracy in exile. That's basically Harrison Armory on the planet Ras Shamra. Now a United liberal-leftist front of America is actively trying to tear down dictatorships around the world that Kissinger set up (he got assassinated at some point in this time line) and replace them with socialist democracies. That is Union's Justice/Human-Rights Department and a few other government branches. So far they've had some success although people are pointing out that it's a bit hypocritical that the liberators are using weapons from corporate conservative states where civil rights are discretely curtailed. That's what's driving political discourse in 5016u in Union's legislative body, the Central Committee and it's myriad political parties.

So yeah Lancer's political intergalactic landscape is a bit like modern day? Except also cthulhu is giving out reality-breaking tech to militant civil rights advocates and random civilians? That's what HORUS basically is, btw.

Now that I've written this out, it would make for a good american alt-history with mechs campaign in Lancer...

[tedkaczynskiofficial]

These were too funny to leave in the notes:

I was incredibly lucky that the ethics stuff I did was either online or an honors class of non-morons who actually wanted to be there. I would have gotten expelled from university if I had to do ethics with business major Kyle who is "pro life" but also thinks children deserve to starve if their parents are poor.

Nothing makes me want to do evil science more than people who are like "STEM students have no moral compass unless you FORCE them to take ethics classes and humanities classes they're so base and culturally illiterate" like I will personally make the giant fucking space laser to zap you i swear to god

[tinydefector]

Hooray!!! Omg i’m so happy lol. I’m definitely going to be smiling for the rest of my day. I finally had time to think about it and how about a platonic familial scenario with mtmte magnus and the ambassador on break and casually chatting, fluff please. let me know if you need more details, and take your time <3

(i’ve been having data problems so hopefully this ask sends through 😅)

Out of the bag - human effects

I had so much fun writing this Buddee and I hope you like it!.

Word count 1.6k

Ultra Magnus x human reader

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________________

The ambassador sat quietly working through files while on the desk, fingers pinching their temple as they re-read the text. A hot drink beside them as they worked. Ultra Magnus sat at the desk as he too worked. It would have been rather funny to look at, A large alien robot sitting at his desk working while his co-worker who was much smaller sat on the same desk on their own seat with a desk. They looked almost like they were a toy figure. 

They take a sip of their drink and roll their shoulders slightly. "Please tell me I don't have to fix another 15 files of Rodimus getting side tracked again and typing out random words like Chinchilla?" They mumble almost like a pray.

Ultra Magnus cycled a weary ex-vent, field rippling with long-suffering patience. "I'm afraid so, Ambassador. The captain seems...incapable of submitting forms in any semblance of proper order." He pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensor, nearly the same pose as them. an unmistakably human mannerism picked up from long acquaintance. "At this rate, reconciling his haphazard paperwork will occupy the majority of your work cycle."

Magnus observed the ambassador's flagging energy levels with mild concern. "Perhaps you should take a brief respite. Overexerting yourself serves no purpose - I can handle the captain's responsibilities for the time being."

His tone, while stern, held an undercurrent of genuine care. Despite their differences, he cared deeply for the ambassador; their well-being remained in everyone's best interests. 

"The schedules can wait. I suspect you've had enough excitement for one orn already." A hint of dryly amused. "I'll be alright Magnus, Just got a headache and sore. Really wasn't planning on dealing with reports, but it beats having to do holovids with Prowl, I want to strangle that mech some times." They reply leaning back in their seat, bringing their drink up and holding it in their hands as they close their eyes for a moment.

Prowl's combative nature makes diplomatic discourse a...trial, to say the least." He cycled another heavy ex-vent. "Though I must say, your own entanglements have proven equally...taxing, of late." Magnus leveled them with a pointed look, with a hint of mild disapproval.

"I trust you understand the risks involved, consorting so closely with the crew. Propriety and protocol exist for good reason - to maintain order and prevent compromising our mission." 

Yet beneath the stern admonishment, a thread of genuine concern shone through. "I only caution you to tread carefully, little one. The games played aboard this ship can be...treacherous, for those caught unawares."

His gaze softened marginally. "I would not see you come to harm, simply for wishing to find companionship in these trying times. Despite what you and others may think i do care about you" 

Embarrassment slowly works its way into their system as they look down as if they were a child who just got caught stealing something. "How.. how did you" they start not knowing how to continue talking. "Come now, Ambassador - did you truly think your...activities would escape my notice?" Magnus replied, a hint of wryness in tone.

He shook his helm slightly. "I may be strict, but I'm not blind. The signs were...quite evident.” Leaning back in his chair, Magnus fixed the ambassador with a measured look. "I'll not lecture you on proper conduct - Primus knows life aboard this ship is complicated enough as it is." Attempting to soothe their clear discomfort. "However, I must urge caution. Entanglements with subordinates."

They continue to look down for a moment processing his words. "I know, I wasn't planning on getting involved with anyone, it just sort of happened. Told Ratchet that it was to stay on the down low, and Ratchet had the same concern about risk, he wanted to make sure if something did happen with other bots outside of him and Drift that i had someone to trust if something happened. I was just worried that if you, Rodimus or Megatron found out. My job was gone" they mumble, they were filled with so much anxiety and panic over the situation only for the mech they feared the most about it to just say he knew. 

Magnus cycled a heavy vent. "I see. That...explains certain observations, I must admit." He rubbed a servo over his faceplate. "Ratchet and Drift, of all mechs. I confess, I had not anticipated that particular entanglement."

Fixing the ambassador with a level stare, Magnus continued, "However, you needn't fear repercussions from myself or the others." A hint of wryness entered his tone. " We've all been there, at one point or another." 

They let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you Magnus, and I'm making sure to look after myself. Woah just wasn't expecting to be having this conversation with you is all. You have no idea how much fear I had about you finding out about my um.. 'activities'. You bots aren't exactly subtle about your 'human fucker' content  " they state before slowly having another mouthful of their drink.

He nodded in acknowledgement. "I understand your concern. confess, even I am not entirely immune to the temptations that arise. However, I endeavor to maintain strict protocols."  Magnus continued solemnly, "I cannot - and will not - control the personal affairs of my crew. That is a burden I do not wish to bear."

A hint of wryness entered his tone. "Though I must admit, the antics of Megatron and Rodimus have certainly tested my patience on more than one occasion. They are both very fond of you"

“I had a feeling they were. Magnus you being tempted, now that's new to me, I'm sorry they are causing you trouble” they chuckle, smiling up at him, enjoying the banter.  

"Ratchet and Drift both know I'm not interested in a relationship, it's mainly just stress relief, and i think Sunstreaker just has a bjt of a kink for someone who isn't going to scratch his paint" they confirm, making him aware of yet another bot involved. Magnus's optics widened fractionally at the mention of Sunstreaker - another unexpected development in this tangled web. "I see. So Sunstreaker as well, hmm?"

”It would appear you...ambassador has been quite diligent in cultivating a support network aboard this ship." Fixing the human with a measured look, Magnus continued, "And you are certain this...arrangement suits you? Entanglements with the crew, regardless of intent, can prove...complicated."

The nod. “Yes, I'm content and want to keep this on the down low, I don't need it getting back to my superiors on earth, nor do I need Prowl making issues of it.” They explain. In truth they were very happy with the arrangement, and felt less guilty now that they were talking with Ultra Magnus over the situation. 

"I merely wish to ensure you are not inadvertently placing yourself in jeopardy, little one." Magnus paused, considering his next words carefully. "However, if this provides you the stress relief you require, then I shall refrain from further commentary." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Though I must admit, I'm somewhat impressed by your...resilience, in the face of such formidable suitors."

It makes their face fluster as they look away from him quickly. “That's not funny and you know it” they huff under their breath only for him to let out a soft rumbled noise. Shaking his helm ruefully, the Autobot commander returned his attention to the ever-present datapads. "Very well. You have my discretion and, should you need, my counsel as well."

"They have all been good to me, very respectful and accommodating. They mainly have been dead quiet about involvement because of you actually." They hum. "Well technically you, Megatron and Rodimus. You three I do look up to alot, and your opinion means alot to me. I was just worried you would have me court martialled and shipped back to earth for fraternization "

Magnus's field rippled with a mix of surprise and begrudging respect. "I see." 

"While I cannot condone such...personal entanglements, I confess I am impressed by your discretion thus far. It speaks to a level of maturity and pragmatism I had not anticipated." Magnus met their gaze steadily. "You have proven yourself a valuable asset to this ship. I would not see that jeopardized, simply due to youthful indiscretions." 

With that now out of the way they sit there quietly before looking up at ultra Magnus from their spot sitting on the desk. "Could I have a hug, at the moment I can feel myself shaking from the fear and anxiety " they try to joke and make light of how afraid they were of him finding out. 

Magnus regarded the ambassador with a soft expression, field pulsing understanding. "Of course." He gently scooped them up, cradling their small frame against his chest in a rare display of tenderness. "There is no need to fear, Ambassador." His deep voice rumbled with reassurance as he lightly stroked their back.

They lean their head against his plating, relaxing against him.  "Thank you, you're a real one Magnus. No one will ever change that" Magnus rumbled softly, the vibration soothing against the ambassador's frame. "You are most welcome. I am merely doing what I believe is right."

He gently adjusted his hold, ensuring their comfort as they leaned into him. A rare, small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You have earned my trust, Ambassador. That is no small feat."

With that, Magnus simply held the ambassador, allowing them the chance to find solace in the steadiness of his frame. And in truth he rather enjoyed holding them close. 

_______________

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[kissingraine]

watch me pull a ‘it's supposed to be a three-part fic but break it down into multiple chapters’ move (i promise ill pull through chat🙏🏻)

mass-shifted mech

Lust for Life — G1 Insecticons x f!Reader (2.1)

• You like to think you’ve gotten a little closer after that. They trusted you enough to reveal what they are—though not exactly what kind. Big metal bugs that can turn into humanoid robots. That name’s gotta be shorter if you intend to officially put them in your journal. Shrapnel’s the easiest to get close to—funny and always dragging you to bug hotspots. Yeah. He goes hunting for the small suckers with you now. Something about EM fields. First time he heard the term, though? He nearly flipped out while repeating the last word in your sentence. And by flipping out, that meant almost zapping you like an eel stunning prey. You’ve made sure to explain exactly what you mean around him since then.

He doesn’t get why you insist on sticking to their de facto leader like a fragging bu—anyways. Kickback’s tried to squeeze the answer out of you, but it’s always the same thing. He’s funnier. Likes when you talk about their carapace under the sun. As if Shrapnel actually gave a scrap about that. But he gets it—he’s the ‘leader,’ and he’s supposed to be the one good at making people spill their secrets. Bombshell’s been spending nights on your couch watching bland organic soap operas���telenovelas—at 3AM. And… having very civilized discourse about which kid is going to get kidnapped next.

“See, right there,” you point, sitting on one edge of the couch while he’s on the other. One side tipping slightly because of how much he literally weighs. Two tons of pure metal. Can’t get any heavier than that. “That little girl is gonna get kidnapped while Daniel and Paulina over there flirt with each other.”

Bombshell vents, mass-shifted and leaning against the armrest, “Quite typical of your species, to be so engrossed with each other that they lose sight of their surroundings.”

“It’s called a fixation. Or, an obsession.” You shrug.

“Primitive.” Then you give Bombshell that look—one eyebrow raised and a half-smile like he amuses you. The way you amuse them. But it isn’t just that—it’s something warmer too. “It’s a very real and horrifying feeling, Shelly.”

Incessant little human. He’s told you many times that a respectable Insecticon of his caliber doesn’t do pet names—but you keep insisting. Because it’s satisfying to talk about something other than their war. Because it’s amusing to see you blabber about weak and useless human connections with him through the night—he lets you keep your head. All for the sake of documenting your habits in order to tempt you better. Shrapnel thinks it’s smarter to know more about you so they can get what they want, even though he could just charm you into it. Knows something is wrong. That you’ve done something to their leader, and he’s dying to find out what.

• Bombshell was different from Shrapnel and Kickback, as you soon found out from the other beetle. “He excels in mental warfare—warfare,” Shrapnel had mentioned in passing one afternoon.

“So, he’s a tactician?” you ask, ducking under a fallen tree log.

“You give him too much credit, squishy,” Kickback chimes in with a twitch of a wing, growling as he taps a clawed servo at your forehead. “He’s just as dangerous as we are, if not far more. Who knows what really goes on in that processor of his.”

• You’ve learned a bit of the grasshopper mech’s habits by now. And that’s the look he makes when he dares you to find out for yourself. Probably a good idea to be cautious around this guy—Insecticon genius, as he so often calls himself while ranting but there’s no denying Bombshell’s interest in telenovela mind games. It’s hard to predict. That’s probably the only reason he even entertains watching with you. It’s become routine. He waits outside, you let him in, and you both watch, then debate. Five minutes later, Eva—Paulina’s stepdaughter, the glue and everyone’s emotional center—gets kidnapped while Ave Maria plays in the background.

Why? How? The number of times he’s lost trying to predict it is taking up all the digits on one servo. And you laugh when the little girl eventually gets kidnapped by her mother’s evil twin sister. Not even because of what’s on TV, but at his reaction. He’s standing in disbelief like the show suddenly deserved a standing ovation for being so predictable.

“See? Told you. Nine years of watching this stuff, you get good at predicting even the wildest plots,” you say, just to rub it in.

Silence.

• He doesn’t answer. Just stares at the screen, then down at his claws. And something subtle, strangely human flashes across his face. Hard to tell with the mask on, but it’s definitely there. Defeat. Quiet devastation, you think. The brilliant manipulator outplayed by a human girl too interested in bugs. Then—he stands abruptly, towering, muttering something about statistical anomalies before sitting back down the same way you do when it’s the weekend. And the couch tilts hard to one side under his weight. You yelp as the momentum drags you across the cushions like a pinball, colliding into his side with a muffled oof.

You’re squished against him, he realizes. Soft and warm, right beside him, and he stiffens. So do you, while the telenovela continues to blare in the background. Neither of you are breathing. Just refusing to look at each other or move. Up close, you smell even sweeter to his olfactory receptors. And Bombshell’s suddenly aware why Kickback has been so insistent on this. It’s his job to get you ready for nesting, but the way you looked at that moment didn’t make him feel like he was doing it out of obligation. And what dignified Insecticon would let an organic be his undoing?

“You’re warm,” he rumbles, unconsciously. Like your warmth had pulled the words from his intake.

• You don’t think Bombshell has noticed the way one of his clawed hands has snaked around your side—slow and tentative, pressing you closer while you have an internal crisis. It’s sorta your fault for thinking you’d be fine, but the heat since the first time they revealed what they were hasn’t faded. Actually, it’s much more visceral now. The kind of visceral that makes you want to sit in his lap and fall asleep against his chest.

“And y-you’re heavy,” you reply, distracting yourself as you try to stand up.

• Except—his servo doesn’t let go. It tightens just slightly, not restraining… but holding. Like letting you go wasn’t yet an option.

“Stay,” Bombshell says, low and deliberate. There’s no command in his voice. Just… want. The screen flickers. Ave Maria ends. You’re not sure if the sudden warmth flooding your face is embarrassment, realization, or something else entirely. Maybe all three.

“I don’t…” you begin, but stop because you do.

He glances at you sideways, optics dimmer than usual. “For data collection,” he adds after a beat.

It’s a lie. A stupid, flimsy one.

But you nod. “Sure,” you whisper, letting your body relax against his.

“For science.”

Previous

also- look who i found at my local department store👀 ladies and gentlemechs i present you to you, Ptimus Orime and Bumble-not-bee😭😭 i didnt get them cuz they looked like bootleg versions lmfaooo and they were pricey for no reason?! idek who's the third one supposed to be.

[thefelinicweb]

Changed my handle (this is amy ) but I need to comment discourse about the recent trend of horniness about mecha and how the horny-posting is misrepresenting the genre and I want it to be clear that my problem with this is not that I am a prude and not because I feel like horny-posters have a responsibility to faithfully represent the genre but rather because the emphasis on made up concepts like "neural ports" and "mech pilot handlers" loses the real eros at the heart of mecha. Real robot has always been about the unknowability of the other, the coldness of metal contrasted the human pilot within. The two most shipped characters in Mobile Suit Gundam don't see each other's faces for most of the series and yet are intimately aware of each other's exteriors through endless battle, they knew metal on metal and yet elude each other as people (despite on some level wanting to know each other) until the big exciting moment where they are able to see each other face to face. One of the great tragedies of Char's Counterattack is that even when our characters get out of their mechs during the combat scene where they get to debate ideology and actually express themselves, they don't actually see each other's faces. This is what Heaven Will Be Mine gets so right when it gets horny about mecha. When characters flirt within their mechs as they pierce through each other's emotional layers they get closer and closer to actually opening the mech and seeing the human inside. The way that the human is made as a representation of the psyche in contrast to the mech being the whole person is what makes bodies in mecha anime so special and is also very easy to be horny about. y'all can do your own thing but are missing the point smh smh smh.

[the-far-bright-center]

Yes, I am familiar with the Obsession comics, those ran from 2004-2005 (during the lead up to RotS). Definitely thinking of a comparable scene like that which ought to have made it into TCW, though perhaps one that would have fitted better into the finalised PT film-canon (since some aspects of those earlier EU comics were already ‘jossed’ by the time the RotS film was released).

anakin back study

[transingthoseformers]

https://www.tumblr.com/transingthoseformers/776679071968034816/im-not-one-for-real-discourse-but-i-think-that?source=share

This this this! I want OP to claim a Nemesis greater than Megs and it's some truly ancient beef between OP and some other historian on the net cause their take on X is not just Wrong and Bad, but uses Bad Logic to get there and OP *knows even more now* cause idk matrix memories or something. I want Megs in an anonymous writing group that gets into beef all the time, he is *invested* in some of the truly horrendous takes. I want Prowler to have a one sided online beef with a mech who ends up being some unnamed autobot foot soldier 3 galaxies away because of a supremely bad take.

GHDFSTSHEHEHEHEG OMG THAT'D BE FUNNY

Exactly

EXACTLY!!!!

I'm just imagining Optimus seeing [historian]'s newest post and steam is pouring from his seams because he's so goddamn mad and he can't do anything about it

Soundwave is so, so tired of Megatron's anon writing group already