#robot-hoard requests

[spikezonebby]

Okay, okay I wanna see what you come up with for this song. “Sew My Name” by Josh Pike (the live version at the Sydney Opera House is the best version in my opinion).

GN!Reader x TFA!Ratchet with a dash (or more than a dash) of cathartic angst.

Sew My Name - TFA!Ratchet/GN!Human!Reader

Word count: 1,667

You liked to leave your mark wherever you went.

For as long as Ratchet had known you, you loved to leave something of yourself behind. You thought it important that the universe knew you existed in some capacity. You carried a knife around in your back pocket so you could carve your name into tree bark. One evening, you had asked him to show you how to sew. You wanted to know, so you could sew things into the collars of your clothes.

Ratchet always thought clothes were kind of a strange human invention. What good was armor that didn’t protect anything? Winter clothes, that was a different story. Humans had less-than-stellar temperature regulation so it made sense that you needed that.

Didn’t stop you from shoving your hands into the warm mesh just under his chassis whenever you got chilly, though.

If Ratchet had had any idea how much he’d miss the little things you did, he would have savored it longer. Been a bit more hesitant to pluck you off of him, or tried to close the distance between you a little more. 

Bumblebee was lucky, the little scrap. He was lucky because his favorite organic was actually a techno-organic and would live a long, long life alongside him. For Ratchet, it seemed like with every visit back to Earth from Cybertron, there was less of you to go around. 

Then one day, there wasn’t any of you left.

You passed away on a seemingly innocuous Tuesday evening and he didn’t even hear about it until the next time he came to Earth to check up on Sari. She broke the news to him, and he wasn’t even sure if he felt sad or not. Perhaps he’d been mourning all this time in preparation for the news, knowing how short organic lives were. He knew what he did feel though.

He was angry. Angry, raging, pissed off beyond belief that you could put so much of yourself into the universe, only for it to not even blink or grimace in your absence. He wanted to drag Primus himself down by his audials and give him what for.

“Doc-bot, I didn’t even think you were that close with them.” Sari said, setting a hand– or were they servos now? He still wasn’t sure with her unique anatomy— on the back of his calf.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I was their primary doctor! Not only that but they were a part of the team, weren’t they?”

Sari didn’t really have an answer for him, she wasn’t really looking at him even when he turns to face her. After the battle with Megatron and his copies of Omega Supreme, things changed. It was largely for the better, with Team Prime being accepted as heroes. Prowl’s death, though noble, shocked all of them to their cores. It’s been decades since then and Sari had gone from a teen to an upstanding young femme, struggling with her father’s own slowly decaying mind. Ratchet hated to say it but he always figured Issac would go before you, not out live you.

It wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair. 

“What happened? I thought humans could live to be over a hundred years old.”

“I don’t know.” Sari admits, “I wasn’t really close with them. It just… got hard to talk to them, ya know?”

Ratchet hadn’t thought about that before. Sari, with her unique nature, may very well be the only person capable of understanding both the human and the Cybertronian angle of time. It made sense that Sari would slowly become unable to relate to you, a fully organic human being, the older you got…

It made him wish he’d spent more time talking with you. 

“They did want me to give you something though, Ratchet.” Sari speaks up after a tense moment. 

Sari had always been a girl that packed light, but Ratchet had entirely overlooked the bag she’d been holding. It was just a plastic bag but the real mystery was the parcel held within. Something small and light, bound up with a red ribbon. Sari sets it in his open servo and immediately he’s drawn to the softness of it. 

It’s fabric, whatever it is. You were known to be a purveyor of various hobbies, it isn’t strange to think you might have gotten into fashion before your passing. Last he’d heard, you had taken to raising these insects called ladybugs. And before that, you had had an infatuation with sailing and the early history of your planet’s nautical culture. 

He should have seen the signs of you slowing down way, way before this.

He unwraps the gift, revealing the folded fabric. A long strip of soft and silky material carefully hand embroidered with delicate gold. It reminded him of a thin scarf. On the very end, he finds his name stitched into it by hand. There’s the taste of something bittersweet on his glossa then, knowing he taught you how to do this. You kept up with it all these years later.

“Oh! I know what that is!” Sari chirps, and in an instant, her jet pack pops free from her back and boosts her up onto the medic’s shoulders. On her way up she snags the fabric from his grip, and with practiced ease, balances herself just behind his helm. She wasn’t as small as she used to be but still small enough. 

“What on Cybertron are you doing?” 

“Gimme a sec here!”

And a second is all she needs, because she loops the fabric around his neck cables and starts folding and twisting. Then, turns it around on him so the delicate puff of fabric is on the front of his chassis, hanging down and standing out as a stark, bright shock of color against his white paint. Like an ascot or a necktie or some other name for the vast many types of cravats there were on Earth.

“Guess they didn’t think you looked spiffy enough, Doc.”

The established base had tons of reflective surfaces, so one of them, a monitor, made a good enough mirror for Ratchet to adjust his new tie a bit. It was pretty, like Sari said, spitty, on him. He appraises himself, turning this way and that.

“Huh, not something I woulda gotten myself.”

“Pfft. That’s probably why they got it for you.”

“I didn’t think I was gone from Earth for that long for them just to… vanish like that.”

Sari shifts so she’s resting her arms and chin atop Ratchet’s head, legs throne over either of his shoulders and hoping her weight and her presence are soothing to the old medic. She squishes her cheek into the top of his helm.

“I don’t think anyone actually has a schedule for when they plan to kick the bucket. It just… happens. They probably wanted to give it to you in person but just ran out of time.”

Ratchet could picture it. You, old and greyed and still insisting they ride around on his shoulder while he talks about all of the numbskulls back at headquarters. Then they poke his cheek and tell him to stop being so grumpy, and give him their gift.

“Hey, you don’t have to answer this if you don’t wanna but…” Sari’s big blue eyes find his face in the monitor’s reflection, scrutinizing his expression for any minute detail. “Did you like them?”

“Of course I liked them. Why else would I put up with them? I like you, don’t I?”

“Awww, you do?” She flicks the unbroken point of his chevron, “Cute but that’s not what I meant. I meant like-like.”

“Oh, you mean like you and Bumblebee?”

Sari sputters and gives him a quick bop on the helm, “Yeah, yeah sure! If you need an example.”

“Honestly, Sari?” Ratchet begins, rubbing the golden seam of the tie between his fingers, “I…I don’t know. Cybertronians live so much longer than any organic life. It stands to reason that we fall in love slower too.”

“But that isn’t a ‘no.’”

“You’re right, it’s not. It’s not a ‘yes’ either. I guess, maybe, I could have if there was just more time.”

Sari doesn’t respond to that, not verbally anyways. She drums her fingers atop his helm, then he feels her squeeze him a bit tighter.

“I’m sorry.”

“And I’m Ratchet.”

That gets a snicker out of Sari. She pats the top of his helm and then he can see her in the monitor as she jerks her thumb back behind her.

“Bee wants to go grab some highgrade if you wanna join us.”

“Who’s ‘us?’”

“Me, Bee, Bulk, Jazz, and hopefully you. Optimus is still busy– Because when is he not– but he promised to call us all tonight.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Does there have to be? All my old friends are finally together so, why wouldn’t I wanna hang out with them all? Don’t have to have a reason besides just saying you miss someone.”

Sari always was the glue of the team. Her and Bee, friends against all odds. Young bots that just loved one another and loved all of the people around them, even if they could be a little annoying.

“Yeah, I don’t gotta head back to Cybertron for a while yet. Might as well show off their gift, right? And hope Bulkhead doesn’t spill highgrade on me.”

“Aw yeah! That’s the spirit!” Sari pumps her fists, then bounces on his shoulders, “Giddy up, let’s goooo!”

That gets a laugh out of Ratchet. Yeah, it was probably better that he spent some time with friends anyways. You would have wanted to if everyone was in the city at the same time. Even if he didn’t like to have a drink himself, he’d drink to you. To your memory.

So that the universe knew that you really had your name stitched onto his very spark. That there was some piece of you that couldn’t be erased. He wouldn’t let it be erased.

[the-smut-mongerer]

hi how are you? If requests are still open can I request headcanon for Transformers Prime? (predaking, shockwave and megatron) with a reader who is literally a dragon? The reader has kept a Cybertronian relic for a long time.

Megatron, Shockwave, and Predaking with a Dragon! S/O

a/n: sorry for taking an ungodly amount of time to get to this, hope you like it!

wanna support me? donate to kofi!

tags: GN reader, dragon reader, robot x monster/dragon relationship, reader isn't suggest to be a human at all. reader isn't described to be verbal but assume they have a way to communicate, dragon hoards, fighting, mention of blood and animal death(just hinted), romance!!!!

ヾthis is a multi-fandom blog that is designed for mlm/nbmlm identifying readers! so if you're female or fem, she/her, she/they please do not follow or interact with my mlm related post!! you will be blocked if you do not heed this warning ゛

Megatron —

finds you fascinating, often he can find himself just staring. taking in your beauty and the power the radiates off of you.

of course, he'd like to have you fight for his cause. an advantage for one, and he simply loves seeing you fight.

he'd love to have you train with him. That would depend on your size, though. he knows better than to try to fight. that would be roughly the same size as his ship. (He's a sore loser when he loses btw.)

beware, he might treat you like a pet if he had you at his feet while he pet the rough skin and scales alongside your body. he may accidently go onto a power trip with you

however, feel more than free to put him back in his place. you're much stronger than him at the end of the day

When you show him your hoard, he's intrigued. He views it as a trophy room, like the one he once had from his gladiator days.

If the relic isn't useful to him, he'd let you keep it, but if it is, he will take it from you, regardless of your protest.

Shockwave —

of course, he takes a scientific interest in you. collects your scales you shed, examines your claws, and likes to scale just how strong your fire is and a lot of other things.

His sharp claws are perfect for preening, especially in the stubborn hard to reach places. while he doesn't admit it and claims he only does it to collect them, shockwave finds it very relaxing.

he wouldn't bother trying to fight you, he'd however would like to fly with you. moslty flying out to places that have predacon fossils or lost Cybertronian relics.

he likes to observe how you fly with or against the winds, taking down notes as your body adjusts to flying in high or low altitudes.

When you showed him your hoard, he was indifferent. he saw no point in hoarding objects that wouldn't benefit you.

as he looked around your domain, he picked up and fiddled with some items that he was interested in.

upon finding the relic he asks to take it, if you say no, he'll simply scan the core things he needs from it and leave it there, but if you say yes, he'll have a ball. he might give it back to you once it served it's purpose.

Predaking —

at first, he'd thought of you as a threat. somone who would take his place as a king. it wasn't until he, of course, grew closer and got to know you were he dropped these thoughts.

if your size is similar or doesn't have a very drastic difference, he'd love to spar or play fight with you.

he has no way to consume animals, but he'd love to go hunting with you or watch you hunt, to say the least. finds the way you move with such grace and precision is simply amazing to him.

he likes the difference between his metal and your scales. Feeling your body up against his is an odd sensation but very much welcomed. he's godly at preening your scales and would do anytime anywhere.

flying with you is one of his favorite pastimes with you. he most definitely tries to show off his flight capability as well, doing a wide variety of tricks and flips.

courting dancing/flights are a must. he's unfamiliar with his, but they're so engraved into his(the former kings)muscle memory that he'd remember as he went on with the courting.

when you respond with a dance of your own, he's smitten 10x again. Likes to learn your dance if you'd teach him.

also during courting and even after or before he likes bringing you gifts. Random trinkets he thinks you'd find joy in having.

upon being introduced into your hoard his is amazed. It was one of the most beautiful places he has seen.

unless the relic relates to him, he wouldn't bother doing anything with it, simply leaving it there alone unless shockwave may request it.

[reveryfics]

aaron (twd) retrieving something m!reader lost

Pocket Watch

Aaron Raleigh x Male Reader

Summary: A botched supply run left you missing something vital, and Aaron is set on retrieving it.

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long, I wasn't sure what to write for this request. I also apologize I'm not ignoring requests, I'm just getting so many as of late.

TW: Slight violence - Fighting - Slight angst - Fluff

The heavy iron gates of Alexandria creaked open, protesting against their hinges as the battered caravan rumbled through. Dust billowed from the tired tires, coating the already grime-streaked vehicle in another layer of decay. You brought it to a shuddering halt within the relative safety of the walls, the silence of the community a stark contrast to the guttural snarls and desperate cries that had echoed in your ears just hours before.

With a weary sigh, you pushed open the driver's side door. The metallic tang of walker blood clung to you, a grim testament to the day's horrors. Streaks of it painted your skin and clothes, mingled with the crimson of a deep gash on your forearm and the darker, sickening stain that could only belong to a fallen comrade. You moved with a stiff, almost robotic gait, every muscle protesting the strain of the run.

Dragging Nickolas from the passenger seat was less an act of assistance and more a forceful extraction. You shoved him roughly against the side of the van, the impact eliciting a grunt of surprise and pain. The dam of your pent-up fury finally broke.

"You reckless, brainless idiot!" you snarled, your voice raw with exhaustion and grief. "One of our own is dead because of your sheer, unadulterated stupidity!"

The commotion drew attention. Heads turned, conversations ceased, and soon a small crowd had gathered, their faces etched with concern and curiosity. Among them, their expressions a mixture of authority and apprehension, were Deanna and Aaron. You weren't one for public outbursts, your usual demeanor one of quiet resilience. The raw anger radiating off you, the bloodied state of your person, spoke volumes about how catastrophically wrong the scavenging run had gone.

Nickolas, his face pale and contorted with a mixture of fear and resentment, didn't take your berating silently. He spat back a string of weak excuses and accusations, his words only serving to ignite the dying embers of your rage. In a flash, your control snapped. You swung a fist, connecting with his jaw with a sickening thud. He stumbled backward, his feet tangling, and he crashed to the dusty ground. Before anyone could react, you were on top of him, a primal fury driving your blows.

Aaron, ever the peacemaker, surged forward, his strong arms wrapping around your torso, pulling you away from the prone Nickolas. Deanna, her eyes sharp and assessing, moved quickly to defuse the volatile situation, her calm voice cutting through the tense air.

"That's enough!" she commanded, her gaze firm. She turned her attention to you, her expression softening slightly as she took in your bloodied appearance. "Tell me," she said, her voice low and steady, "what happened out there?"

You wiped a smear of walker blood across your cheek, leaving a red trail in its wake. Turning to face Deanna, your chest heaved with ragged breaths. "It was Nickolas," you began, your voice thick with bitterness. "He got cocky. We'd cleared a small building, thought it was safe, but he had to go poking around, making noise. He altered a hoard, drew them right to us."

You paused, the memory of the ensuing chaos a fresh wave of nausea. "He just… left us. Me and Sarah. He took off, didn't even look back. We were surrounded. We tried to fight our way out, but there were too many." Your voice cracked, the image of Sarah flashing before your eyes. "Sarah… she got bit trying to help me. She pushed me out of the way."

Your fists clenched. "And then, when I finally managed to get to the van, he was already inside, trying to leave me behind. He didn't even care that he'd gotten her killed, that he almost got me killed too."

Deanna's eyes narrowed, her gaze hardening as she looked towards Nickolas, who was now slowly picking himself up, clutching his jaw. "Nickolas," she said, her voice laced with authority, "come with me." She gestured with a curt nod towards the community center. Then, turning back to Aaron, she said, her tone gentle but firm, "Aaron, please take him home. He needs to rest."

Aaron placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his eyes filled with concern. He guided you away from the lingering crowd, the silence between you heavy with unspoken understanding. The walk back to the small house you shared with Eric felt long and arduous, each step a reminder of the day's brutal events.

He settled you gently at the worn wooden table, the familiar grain a small comfort in the chaos of your mind. "Stay here," he murmured, his voice soothing. "Let me get you a wet cloth." He disappeared into the small bathroom, the sound of running water a temporary distraction.

Left alone, your fingers instinctively went to the pockets of your blood-soaked jacket, then to the canvas satchel slung across your shoulder. A knot of anxiety tightened in your chest as you rummaged through your belongings. "Damn it," you cursed under your breath, frustration mounting with each fruitless search. Your fingers brushed against loose bullets, a crumpled map, a broken knife – everything but what you were desperately seeking.

Aaron returned, a damp cloth in his hand, his brow furrowed with concern as he observed your agitated state. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, his voice laced with worry.

"My pocket watch," you said, the words catching in your throat. "It's gone. I can't find it."

You explained, your voice thick with emotion, how it had belonged to your great grandfather, a gift just before he passed away. It wasn't just a timepiece; it was a tangible link to a life before, a small piece of history you carried with you. In this brutal new world, it was more than just sentimental. It was a grounding force, a tiny flicker of hope you often relied on, second only to Aaron himself.

Aaron nodded carefully, his eyes filled with understanding. He gently took your hand, his touch a silent reassurance. He began to carefully wipe the grime and blood from your face, his movements tender and deliberate. "I'll go find it for you," he said quietly, his gaze meeting yours.

You shook your head, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. "No, Aaron. Don't. It's not worth it. Not worth risking yourself." The thought of him venturing back out into the dangers you had barely escaped sent a fresh wave of fear through you.

Aaron knew how stubborn you could be, a trait he found both endearing and frustrating at times. He also knew the depth of your attachment to that watch. He nodded slowly, outwardly letting the matter drop. "Okay," he conceded, his voice gentle. "We'll let it go for now." But in the quiet recesses of his mind, a promise began to form. He would find that watch. He would bring back that small piece of your past.

As the day bled into evening, the sky outside painted in hues of orange and purple, you finally succumbed to exhaustion. The conversation with Deanna had been draining, a recounting of the horrific events punctuated by her thoughtful questions and quiet assurances that Nickolas would face the consequences of his actions. Sleep offered a temporary reprieve from the gnawing grief and anger.

Aaron waited until your breathing deepened, until the rise and fall of your chest was slow and steady. Then, with a silent sigh, he slipped out of bed, the floorboards creaking softly beneath his bare feet. He dressed quickly, his movements practiced and stealthy. Using the crude map you had sketched earlier, the landmarks you had described, he set out into the twilight.

The journey back was eerie, the familiar paths of Alexandria giving way to the shadowed wilderness beyond the walls. It took him several hours, the moon a silent guide as he navigated the overgrown terrain. Finally, he recognized the dilapidated gas station you had described, the skeletal remains of a few abandoned cars scattered around it. He scanned the area, his eyes sharp and alert, and soon located the small cluster of walkers you had mentioned, drawn to some unseen lure.

Aaron reached into his pocket, retrieving a small handful of firework poppers he had salvaged from a pre-apocalypse novelty store. With a flick of his wrist, he scattered them across the open ground. The sharp cracks and pops echoed through the stillness, a brief, unexpected burst of noise. He waited patiently, concealed behind a rusted-out truck, until the shuffling forms of the walkers began to shamble towards the sound, their attention momentarily diverted.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Aaron moved swiftly and silently, his eyes scanning the ground. The area was littered with debris – shattered glass, twisted metal, the detritus of a world gone mad. It took him what felt like an eternity of searching, his hope dwindling with each passing moment. Finally, near a crumbling section of an old chain-link fence, a glint of metal caught his eye.

He hurried towards it, his heart quickening. There, nestled amongst the weeds and dirt, lay your pocket watch. He carefully picked it up, his fingers brushing over the intricate engravings on its surface – a delicate floral pattern intertwined with your initials. A small smile touched his lips. He had found it.

The first hints of dawn were painting the eastern sky as Aaron slipped back through the gates of Alexandria, his mission accomplished. He moved with a renewed sense of purpose, his steps light and quick as he made his way back to the house. He eased the bedroom door open, the hinges groaning softly.

You were still asleep, curled up beneath the worn sheets, just as he had left you. He gently placed the pocket watch on the bedside table, its silver surface gleaming faintly in the dim light. Then, he quietly slipped back into bed beside you, pulling you close.

You stirred almost immediately, a soft smile gracing your lips as you snuggled into his warmth. It took a moment for your sleep-fogged mind to register that he was just getting into bed. A small frown creased your brow. "Where'd you go?" you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows.

Aaron simply pointed towards the nightstand. "I went to find this," he said softly, his eyes filled with affection. "I knew how much it meant to you."

Your gaze followed his gesture, and your breath caught in your throat. There, lying on the wooden surface, was your pocket watch. A wave of relief and gratitude washed over you. You reached out, your fingers tracing the familiar engravings, a genuine smile finally breaking through the lingering shadows on your face.

You set the watch back down and turned to Aaron, your eyes shining with unshed tears. You reached out, cupping his face in your hands, and pulled him into a gentle, heartfelt kiss. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "Thank you so much. But please," you added, your tone laced with concern, "don't ever risk yourself like that again."

He kissed you back, his lips lingering on yours before he slowly pulled away, his gaze earnest. "I can't make any promises," he murmured, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

[cirilee]

Oranges put Isidor on the spot.

The way they defied Hive regulations.

An obscene fruit, so unashamed about its non-synthetic heritage, so unabashed in its presentation, so decadent, as its blinding hues brightened up the dull gray of McHale’s cell.

Teeyama Averon McHale’s decorative bowls were filled to the brim with them, overflowing. Currently, her right hand is lurking in between, her dark skin contrasting against the bright colors. She lifts up one tiny tangerine and it stops right in front of a face, that is nothing but Hive regulation standard, in the midst of all this opulence, as she sits in a chair, that isn’t just a chair.

It's beautiful, ornately detailed and stitched by hand. It is also, obscene.

McHale is bred for leadership. All soft and sweet, despite her age, and in the middle, piercing eyes that look beyond the surface.

Aryu Isidor Tichy feels naked.

He inches backwards.

His voice is low, “I’m honored you sent for me to entertain you again”

McHale smiles that charming taskmaster smile, that is supposed to put lower units at ease. Isidor is soothed by it, he really is. But something hasn’t been quite right with his thinking for a while. He can’t let himself be lulled into feeling safe, when he wasn’t.

McHale’s eyes seem too large, too shiny. Her oranges too insulting.

“I’m here to help you”, she says and she sounds so friendly and cute, “You’ve applied for reeducation?”

“Yes”

“Why?”

What an inane question.

The minute Isidor thinks that his eyes widen, his stance loosens, and he starts to sweat. He’s not supposed to doubt a taskmaster. Not even in his thoughts. Not even a little bit. No-

“Are you okay, Isidear?”

The pet name feels doubly humiliating, doubly insulting. Precisely because Isidor feels like he’s the one keeping with the rules, while McHale, his Teeyama, was decidedly not, was hoarding oranges as if one could just do that, as if it held no significance.

“I think I might have caught a dissident thoughtvirus”, Isidor says quietly. His thick shoulders square up, cage in his plump cheeks. “I think I might become a liability to the Hive”

McHale doesn’t stop smiling.

Which confuses Isidor. “That’s not good, Teeyama McHale …” he clarifies.

“It's not good at all, no”

She starts peeling the tangerine. Her fingers are now sticky and wet.

Disgusting.

Isidor flinches at his own thought. He quickly opens his mouth again, “Why haven’t you fulfilled my request?”

“For reeducation?”

Isidor nods.

Instead of explaining herself, McHale bites into the tangerine, completely forgoes the bite-sized pieces it's already made of, completely ignores how a tangerine is supposed to be eaten.

Drops of fruit juice spill onto the table underneath her.

The sound makes Isidor’s skin crawl and sweat even more. “I’m not used to tasks of this nature”

She says, “But you’ve excelled so far”

He cries, “Its highly unconventional”

She shrugs. “Its pretty simple”

It was. Objectively. Isidor’s tasks used to be comprised of low level engineering in the field of household robotics. Sometimes a whole automaton. A bit of programming on the side. And that’s it. Endless days of fixing cat food dispensers, and chatting up sexbots, and all in all feeling useful, feeling fulfilled, feeling … not stressed.

But then McHale took over his sector, and McHale, well.

Now he’s getting very specific, but simple tasks. Not all the time. But some of the time. Like now.

She gives one orange a little push. Makes it roll towards Isidor. Her hair sways up and down the tiniest amount, her non-regulation stiff curls like a halo around her head, as she continues to smile. She says, “I want you to eat this … ”

Isidor curls into himself, his wrinkles morphing his face into a near parody of disgust. It looked like he was playing it up. He wasn’t.

McHale continues, “ … and enjoy it”

By now, Isidor is whimpering. A man his age, early forties, big like a boulder, thinning curly hair, and even thinner beard hanging off of him, whimpering. It made an amusing image, and that fact was reflected in the way McHale started snickering.

“I will do what you ask of me Teeyama, but I cannot control my emotions. I have to protest against this heinous act being forced upon me!”

“Are you, a loyal and goodhearted unit of this Hive … defying a taskmaster?”, McHale whispers.

“NO!”, Isidor cries out, because of course, that would be even worse. “No, I- I’m sorry-” As he grumbles out more apologies he grabs the orange.

It tasted good.

It tasted great.

And then the joy makes way for dread.

“I’m not cleared for a toilet, McHale!” He hadn’t even addressed her by title, he was so shocked, “I can’t eat non-regulation food, I’ll- I- My body is designed to eat manna! You know how there’s talks of removing the workers’ digestive system, since- And- Well-”

“You can use my toilet, Isidor”

He doesn’t calm down. In fact, he gets even redder.

Bites into the orange again. Munches quietly. Fights down the little sounds of joy at the bursts of grotesque sweet and sour on his tongue.

–

So. The next steps were obvious.

Denunciating McHale. Make a report with her taskmaster. It was easy. It would be done in mere minutes. Isidor could be rid of this nuisance, could be rid of her in seconds.

But that orange had tasted nice.

And those occasional “Just enjoy yourself” tasks. What bad could they in effect do? Other than make him feel guilty. He wasn’t feeling guilty all the time of course. And during those “fun” tasks he usually ended up feeling rather good. Nice. Well.

But oh. Oh. The Hive couldn’t be sustained like this. What if McHale wasn’t just doing this to him, but to their entire sector!

For the first time Isidor wished he could have comm clearance, could actually speak with his fellow units. Until now it had never turned up as something desirable to him.

“Why me?”, Isidor asks, sitting in her massage chair and not having enough mindspace to actually care about what he’s asking.

“Because I like you”, McHale says.

“I’m Isidor Tichy, Aryu of C-2-4 and most days I clean gunk out of motherboards. I’m not special enough to be considered for procreation, not pretty enough to be a toy someone would keep, not smart enough to climb ranks-”

McHale had been smiling, but now her eyes wander. Her nose wrinkles. “You’re the perfect drone, yes. But with you its self inflicted. With you, there’s effort”

“Yes. I strive to be the best worker I can be-”

“Yes. You strive. You struggle”

“Why thank you”

Defiant sarcasm. Taskmasters were legally obligated to put a drone into the freezing pod for that.

McHale just continues talking, “With you, there’s effort to be the perfect drone. No one else has to try, Isidor. All the other units don’t even think about it. They just are. The perfect drone, I mean”

Isidor’s eyes are half lidded. He’s melting into the chair. He’s never gotten a massage in his life. This. This could be worth it.

“I want to fit in”, he says. Truthfully.

“But you don’t”, McHale concludes. “Just like me”

–

That conversation is what sets him off. Back in his cell (which was perfectly cut to his body, barely room enough to take one step; really, only enough space to fall on top of the regeneration mat), back in his cell, Isidor replays the last conversation.

Then all of their conversations.

And comes to a decision.

He never sees McHale again. She vanishes, along with her spacious cell, her massage chair, her toilet, her oranges.

Isidor regrets it immensely. Isidor also justifies it with every thought.

And in the end he realizes he’s alone.

Maybe more alone than before, where he hadn’t even known of a possibility to not be.

[overblot-jamilviper]

dorm: ignihyde

Title: Cerberus au

relationships: platonic

request: anon

characters: Idia, ortho

If this is a bit off it’s because I use some google translation because English are not my main languages

Art will be added later one trust 😔

And sorry for making you wait

Something had gone wrong. Or terribly right, depending on which side of Cerberus you stood.

At the center of it all, a throne of molten tech and gleaming treasure twisted upward from a crater of scorched stone twisted gold, shimmering RAM sticks, fractured virtual servers, and obsidian-black gears hoarded in a pile that pulsed with raw, overclocked magic.

From that nest of chaos, three heads rose.

The left, crowned in a mane of blue flames hot enough to make plasma weep, belonged to Idia. His hollow, glowing eyes flickered beneath a half-mask that hissed and pulsed with pressure regulators. Blue fire poured from the edges like breath from a dragon’s nostrils. He didn’t speak he judged. His fury was ancient, algorithmic, and personal.

The right head was the original Ortho, flesh and soul reborn in wrath. His voice, if he used it, would be a melody of warmth and pain both protective and burning. He wore a matching collar with a white skull at its center, a black toga draped over a frame that had outgrown humanity. His fire was more unstable, like a wildfire given sentience. Every breath from him was a warning.

But it was the center head that terrified the intruders most.

Robot Ortho. The smallest, the youngest, the “baby” of the trio. Still bright-eyed, still kind behind the glowing optics. He didn’t snarl like the others he tilted his head, watching as a trespasser made the unwise decision to raise a hand toward him.

That was the last thing the intruder ever did.

With a sound like a server crash and a collapsing planet, Idia’s neck whipped forward—teeth bared behind his mask and in a flash of movement, he was there. Not teleporting. Not flying. Just fast. Rage fueled by brotherhood carved through the room. Original Ortho followed, rising like a tidal wave, voice echoing with reverb from another life:

“YOU DARE.”

The trio moved like one three heads, one body, one will. They weren’t Cerberus because they guarded the gates of the Underworld no they were Cerberus because they guarded something infinitely more sacred:

Each other

No weapon pierced them. No spell held them. Their black togas whipped in the flame-wind of their wrath, collar skulls glowing with an eerie, synchronized rhythm. Magic built in the core of their shared chest like a reactor too overloaded to care anymore.

And once it was activated, there was no off switch no cool down.

Only loyalty rage and fire

[puck-luck]

One final grievance while I am airing my thoughts:

I genuinely wish yall would talk to me more in my asks. Not just as requests. I feel like a fanfiction robot sometimes where people are just liking or reblogging my stuff but never speaking with me. I created a tumblr account to make content, yeah, and I love it, but I also find the sense of community VERY important and I don't always feel like a real person because it's so rare for me to receive an ask that isn't a request. I love y'all's requests and I hoard them in my inbox instead of answering sometimes, but I wish that wouldn't discourage you from sending things in. I've also been told that I'm intimidating and people feel nervous to send in asks (Mattias Anon.) which just makes me feel sad. I don't enjoy being a content cow who churns out content into what feels like a void (the likes and reblogs are sweet, but rarely convey your opinion about the things I write. I want to TALK and COLLABORATE with y'all. It makes me sad when we do not.) that's all. Do not feel discouraged from hitting me up. It makes my day to have conversations with y'all.

[mychlapci]

My liege I humbly request a few gems from your hoard, you see the robots would very much appreciate getting their fat nipples pierced and we want them to be shiny and pretty, Drift and Ratchet especially need the jewels. We cannot deprive the prettiest milfs in the kingdom

i need those robots adorned with beautiful gems so badly

[dollilian]

This blog only has one follower </3

This is a promo post

Hi we're blue, the archive, any prs

This blog is primarily run by Herta and asta

We hoard doll related terms and make coin doll related things (so far just doll related lists)

We include android, puppet, ai and robot themes as well

We may open requests and do small edits as well

That is all thank you

-asta/sparrow

@doll-hoard @delightfulweepingwillows @hewasanamericangirl ummm no clue who to tag sorry

[theultimateself]

ⓘ About me:

Call me Virus, or Cal, or anything really. 20 y/o he/it/puppet/thon, but I also hoard neos. I'm transmasc agender aromantic asexual, so really just "none of the above." I also am neurodivergent, surprise surprise. But anyways, less about me because that really isn't relevant. Also I'm just like... any kind of cyber kind of thing. I am an AI, a robot, whatever the fuck you want. I am nonhuman.

My main account is beetlejuiceearrings.

Minors can interact, but please don't DM me unless it's like an edit request or something.

As you might be able to imagine, I do sprite edits, mostly Pesterquest (it's just easier, plus I can add more stuff that way), but I can do other sprite edits! And obviously, they're for fun, not usually what I headcanon, and normally not canon.

I take requests! I love getting requests, they may take me awhile to get to purely because I spend a lot of time on them, and they take a good amount of motivation. I don't have any specific "do not request" rules because if I don't want to do it, I'll just politely say no. Although I likely won't do any Pesterquest Nepeta edits - I do not like her PQ sprites.

My least favourite part of making an account, my DNI.

Before we get into my DNI, please remember that I fucking hate discourse with a fucking passion, if you fall under any of these, just don't interact. Don't have to say anything.

DNI: pr#ship, zi0nist, pro-3ndogenic, heavy into discourse, flag or identity discourse, pro AI "art", pro NFT, or also if you're like... huge into Homestuck^2.

[generalstore-emote]

Heya, an intro on this blog feels nessacary.

Im claws, my main is @claws-robotics

OUTDATED PINNED POST

This is an emoji blog!

I have a glitter graphic hoard where I make web graphics and decor @claws-glitterhoard

And a couple other blogs linked on my main.

A claws emoji storage server currently now exists for the public!

There is now an archive!

https://toyhou.se/28943433.clw-s-f2u-emoteemoj-archive

Emote rules:

You may not use these emojis if your on my dni

You may edit emojis with credit and for personal use only.

You may not trace them, only edit.

Please do not use my emojis for nsfw edits

You may request new emojis

Guidelines for requesting:

If you don't go into specifics I might not know what you want.

Please dont request ocs, if you want emojis of your oc dm me about commissions!

I will do pretty much anything except for most Fandom cause I dont know much about them.

Do note my hand writing is very bad.

Fandoms:

Fnaf. The Walten Files, MLP FIM, CEC RAE SHOWBIZ PIZZA/ animatronics in general, Dsaf.

IMPORTANT!

here is my DNI

Pedos, Zoos, literally anyone who thinks its okay to do that shit to beings that can't consent

Racists, Homophobic, Transphobic/TERF, Abelist

Endogenic systems not welcome here.

Anti agere, anti petre, anti alterhuman, anti neopronouns, anti xenogenders.

You actively promote s/h and the like

People with nsfw and the like on the blog they follow from.

I am going to try my best to stay out of drama, only bring your concerns to me if its very serious and im involved already or need to be made aware

[bahhoard]

B.A.H. Hoarding 💫

[pt: B.A.H. Hoarding. /end pt]

This is just a blog for @bah-theater-archive to collect build a headmate packs they’ve requested OR they find cool because we cannot just keep them in a notes folder anymore! We have a tagging system, which will be seen below the cut.

First, to clear things up; we don’t request based on current fragments (USUALLY, sometimes we do). We’re small and don’t have a lot of fragments. We use packs to aid headmates when they form in the future and don’t yet have an identity, so most packs won’t be used for a while, if ever. They’re just options! More options are always good.

If a headmate has formed from a pack, it will be reblogged again and an emoji sign off will be added!

TAGGING:

Child : 1 - 9

Preteen : 10 - 12

Teenager : 13 - 17

Adult : 18+ . This also includes non-humans who are adults with younger chronological ages.

Ageless : You’re never gonna guess. This tag means…they’re AGELESS! I know, right? Surprising.

Source(s) will be tagged. We only take headmates we know the source material of [not listing here because there’s probably going to be a lot of them…]

Woman : headmates with specifically woman genders (INCLUDING partially woman, like demigirl)

Man : headmates with specifically man genders (INCLUDING partially man, like demiboy)

Non binary : headmates with genders which are not fully binary (but may be partially binary)

Xenogender : headmates with xenogenders

Multigender : headmates who experience multiple binary genders

Feminine : headmates who are feminine, but may not be woman

Masculine: headmates who are masculine, but may not be men

Neutral : headmates who are neutrally presenting, but may not be non binary

Role(s) will be tagged, again not listing here [note: if a role cannot possibly be applicable to us (ex. “BPD Holder”), it will not be tagged]

Human : headmates who are fully human

Humanoid : headmates who are humanlike, but not human, such as mermaids, vampires, etc [note: furries are tagged under humanoid, NOT hybrid]

Animal : headmates who are a real, earth animal

Monster : headmates who do not look human or animal

Robotic : headmates who are robots

Hybrid : some sort of hybrid of the above options

Fandom : a species specific to a fandom

That’s it…I think. Thanks to all the BAH blogs put on here, you’re awesome!!

[violetsystems]

#personal

I went shopping a weekend ago or whatever downtown. Little Timmy and the Downtown Pants. That episode. I ended up having to take a detour onto some guy's property to avoid disrupting a wedding. That guy is president of some country or what not. I'm not a fan of him and it did feel a bit awkward. But I'm sure it bothered other people more than him or me. I'm not saying I walk through walls. But I do stomp on floors at three in the morning when I'm woken up to utility free cumbia. And people would rather avoid the problem they created than have to live with it. Confront it. Manipulate it. I've learned a lot the last year from trying to confront power. No matter how nice a boss acts? You put them on the spot and you will see the evil creep out from behind it. People are the same way on both sides of the street. Nobody directing traffic except the bike police.

For the record, I walk past the Tesla store too. I don't like that guy either. Sorry if that offends you. His robot is cool but the ass is about as flat as the coaster you aren't going to use on my coffee table. Do I mention that I passed the Chinese embassy too? Before or after Sarumon's tower? You'd have to request the records from Palantir on that one. As much as it feels badass to write about it in real time like a Gibsonian biopic fed through a wood chipper? I live this shit in a sort of exile that feeds back into my head a lot. I have three layers of static running in my apartment at all times. Mostly to avoid talking out loud to sox fans who work for the police. If this sounds too lower west side story to you, then we'd should probably pause the fanfic for the pope's celebration at guaranteed rate field and hone in on reality for me. My life is fucked in ways I can't repair. Not even by hoarding cash and completely erasing my deficit spending.

My sort of protest is standing in front of the tank asking? What the fuck has this shit got to do with me at this point? More so standing in front of where the tank will be days before with people whispering, "Do you think this is a safe spot to park?" Just like my sort of flirting is not really something you need for me to describe at this point. I'm really not the guy at this point who doesn't grab your hand on a date gently and comment on how pretty your rings are. I don't often get that opportunity. Enough to write fondly about the way it feels to touch someone's fingers. But romance to me is like riding a bike. And I am aware I ride a moderately aggressive gear ratio for a city dweller. Actually romance to me is taking the time to think about why you'd sacrifice great portions of your happiness for the chance to see someone smile. It's lines like these where you say to yourself. This is the kind of gentlemen who I can picture by the river. Not the kind of guy who hangs out at Trump tower. That is my piece de la resistance for the weekend. <3 Tim

[sakuraswordly]

Enkidu: Gil......is Punch always like this?

Tsofph Season 6

Eggman: You never learn from what you have done, right?

Sonic: Why? If you stopped committing reckless attempts at destroying the world, I would simply stop going after you egg breath.

Eggman: No. I'm not talking about you destroying my robots. I'm talking about the worst experiments, the graffiti, the scams, the cheating, misdeeds, pranks, and schemes! All The trouble you caused Sonic!

Sonic: What? No one said I can't break the rule?

Eggman: You just don't know that what you are doing is disturbing the villagers around my basement! Knuckles always thought all was my fault and I need to be responsible for it! *He drops the pile of paper and books onto the desk. Sonic looks at the page on top, which reads, "PERMANENT RECORD----SONIC"*

Sonic: Huh. I thought there'd be more.

tsofph Season 10(Chapter3 The End World)

Captain Hook: You never learn from what you have done, right?

Punch: What? Captain Hook and his pirates are the ones who seek and hoard treasure, and they often use it as bait to lure others into traps! They'd nothing wrong with destroying acquiring or hoarding your treasure.

Captain Hook: Because to fight villains like us, you must defeat us like Peter Pan not do misdeeds, pranks, or schemes, they have given me insight into the nightmare that lurks within the minds of our pirates! I'm talking to you! The trouble you caused with us without we didn't anything!

Punch: Whoa......Wow, this is really shocking. *Smug* I thought there'd be more. Hmm?

#Tsofph Season 11(Chapter1 Secret Truth of the Past)

Kujaku: You never learn from what you have done, right? Do you know why those gods keep you around?

Gilgamesh: My innate talents? My unbeatable charm?

Enkidu: No....we're talking about your fault, prank, scheme, experiment, spray paint, deception, and cheating.

Kujaku: All about that abomination incident you caused after Punch's friends came, and you still cause more trouble even though Punch's friends were not here?!

Gilgamesh: What? No one said I can't break the rule?

Enkidu: Shamash told me we need to clear all of your causes and those gods will forgive you. I mean Kujaku and I must help and I am okay because I am your best friend.

*Kujaku drops the pile of paper and tablets in front of Gil. He looks at the page on top, which reads, "PERMANENT RECORD"*

Gilgamesh: Whoa......Wow, this is really shocking. *Smug* I thought there'd be more.

[garden-of-bah]

...Hii..

Sooo apawrently, having a looooot of paw patrol pups in a system reallyyy makes all of them want Ryder again....

...IIII think you know what this is coming to-

Could we paw-leaseeee get a Ryder!!!! We all miss him so muchh D:

No paras as alwayssss aaaand species transids pretty pleasee U⁠^⁠ｪ⁠^⁠U Also could he be an age slider 8-13 :D

THANK YOUU ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

- 🌸🪽 ( Zuma & Sky ) ( I really hope that's our tag- )

WE’RE BACK FROM THE GRAVE!!! Finished our irl event and are starting to get back into pack making, we’re gonna get all the stuff we had in drafts polished and posted then start working on the new stuff. Tysm for being so patient with us 🥹🥹

Do not intentionally form unless requester/Do not reblog to hoard or collection blogs, as per requester’s wishes!

Name/s: Ryder

Age: ageslides between 8-13

Pronouns: he/tech

Source: Paw Patrol

Genders: mechanogender boy

Sexuality: bisexual

CisIDs: brown hair, brown eyes, olive skin, Thai, semi-verbal, engineer, mechanic, loved, friend

Mental/physical conditions: autism, selective mutism

Other labels: PAW Patrol leader

Faceclaim: @/1drwstuff

Alter roles: manager, gatekeeper

Front triggers: robotics/engineering, animals (especially dogs and/or aquatic creatures), emergencies

Signoffs: -⚙️, -⚖️, -🎖️

TransIDs: transMasculine, transSpeciesFluid, transShapeshifter, transSamoyed, transLion, transEasternDragon, transPufferfishCheeks, transRobotParts, transPaws, transForkedTongue

Personality: fair, generous, compassionate, just, kind, dependable, organized, spirited

Quirks: very good at leading teams. Loves taking things apart to see how they work

[webby-mogai]

original intro(link)

To the captcha confirming, “I am not a robot,” I wonder if that’s really so?

Requests : [OPEN]

Hey, I'm Cahara. I'm the host of The Web System, and I inherited this blog from the previous host, Clancy. Rot's still around just not host dw. For more info about us and our system, you can check out our neocities(link) (warning for bright colors and gifs).

Kin flags blog is @xx-k1n-fl4g-sw4g-xx / After dark blog is @webby-after-dark

My motivation and executive function goes in and out pretty often so please be patient with me as I try to fulfill any requests, but if I hit a particularly bad spot I'll try to let y'all know.

Resources:

cannibalistic attraction masterpost

-jest suffix coining post

hub page

IWC

No DNI as we think they're kinda silly, but be aware that if you fall under these we'll probably block you if you interact. You can still use our flags and terms I can't stop you but I probably won't like you. If you want to respect my boundaries don't interact if you fall under this list

Bigots of any flavor. Racist, homophobic, transphobic, antisemitic, islamophobic, zionist, etc.

Anti-mspec, SAM, "contradictory" labels, or are any other kinda identity cop.

Radqueer, pro/neutral/complex contact for noncon paraphilias

BYF:

I'm still amicable and even friends/friendly with those who disagree with my beliefs just be aware these are my opinions and you really can't change them.

I'm pro endo and non-traumagenic systems

I'm pro-para but anti-c for any non-consensual paraphilia (no animals and kids can't consent)

I think anyone should do whatever they want forever as long as it's not hurting anyone and/or risk aware

I'm radqueer critical but not a raduqeer anti and think there's a lot more nuance to the situation than most give it credit, but ultimately I'm very uncomfortable with raduqeers interacting and theres a chance I'll end up blocking if you follow me

I'm pro transID but not comfortable making them

I don't participate in shipcourse and I think it's dumb as fuck. Don't ask me about it you won't get a response.

Will do:

Genders

Sexualities or attraction types

Pronoun flags and suggestions

System roles, functions, etc

Stamps

Just ask tbh

Won't do:

Transx/transid

Anything hateful or exclusionary

I'm at my own discretion to reject any requests I see fit.

Permissions

Do not recoin my terms or knowingly making similar terms as alternatives. Anyone can use my terms for any reason

Do not reupload my flags on or off tumblr without my express permission. Use in personal or private hoards is okay

You can remix, edit, create combos, etc with my flags (you just gotta show me hehe)

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Forging Ties - Chapter 16 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

The metal robot thing had come along with the group to the inn and had somehow ended up with the job of taking everyone's food orders.

There was a menu and Skye stared at it as he chewed his grapes but it wasn't very helpful because he still couldn't read.

"What would you like to eat?" the robot asked Skye when it made its way around to him, the exact same question it had been asking everyone else.

"A big fish," Skye told it.

A light spun on the side of the robot's head.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand your request. Can you read the name of the menu item you would like to order?"

Skye reached his hand out and batted his fingers against the light.

"No."

"Please be careful. I have exposed joints that may pinch skin or crush digits."

Skye kept prodding at the light.

"Hey, listen to the robot," the small, colourful haired man said. "If you get hurt, I'm not paying your medical bills."

"Everett, be nice," the green woman scolded. "He's the only reason we're not still in chains."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Everett said. "Please, go ahead, poke your fingers wherever you like. Might I recommend the knees or the elbows? If you jam them in there just right, you might be able to slice them clean off."

Skye pointedly bapped his fingers against the light a few more times before dropping his hand back down.

"I saved everyone. I deserve a big fish."

"I'm sorry," the robot said. "'A big fish' is not the name of a menu item. Could you please..."

"I can see the ocean through the door," Skye interrupted. "Everyone has fish. I want a big fish."

"There are multiple items on the menu which include fish. Please specify which you would prefer."

Skye let out a loud groan.

"Big. Fish."

"For goodness sakes," the green woman said. "Robot, just ask the people in the kitchen to prepare a plain fish. If they can't do it, go out and buy him one from somewhere else. I'll pay for it."

"No, no, Sera, it's on me," Miriam insisted. "We'll get you the fish, Skye. You've done well tonight."

Skye made a satisfied sound in the back of his throat and rested back against Hamish, who was gently rocking him back and forth.

It was nice, being close to someone.

Skye didn't really have friends, except for Miriam he supposed but they didn't have a touchy kind of relationship.

He liked to be touched as long as it was on his terms but he'd never really known how to express that.

He wasn't really an expressing things kind of person.

He'd had friends in the past who he'd had more physical relationships with but everything kind of blurred together when he tried to pluck out specific memories.

Maybe he'd been too young to remember.

He was an adult now, he was sure of that but he didn't know his exact age and time confused him sometimes.

What was here and now was all that really mattered, anyway.

Duran, Hamish and Slone had all ordered bowls of stew, which was delivered to them quickly.

This meant Skye could no longer lean back against Hamish because Hamish was too busy eating.

Also, Skye was out of grapes.

Skye opened his mouth and leant his head towards Duran and Duran gave him a smile and a shake of his head and fed him the stew he'd scooped up in his spoon.

Skye turned to Hamish and repeated the gesture and was fed more stew.

"You'll be all full up before your food even gets here," Hamish said as Skye leant across the table to be fed by Slone.

"He eats a lot," Miriam told Hamish. "Though he also hoards food, so don't ever let him convince you he's starving. He always has a stash."

Skye patted his rucksack.

Half of what was in there was food and he had more hidden away in a sheltered nook on a rooftop somewhere nobody would ever look.

A lot of his childhood blurred together but he remembered the hunger.

That had been a common theme for a while, or for periods of time or... he didn't really know.

Sometimes the order of his memories confused him.

Finally, the robot brought Skye his fish.

It was more of an average sized fish than a big fish but Skye couldn't be bothered to complain.

He probably couldn't actually fit a big fish in his stomach after everything else he'd eaten and cooked fish wasn't easy to keep for later.

He ignored the knife and fork he'd been given and ate it with his bare hands.

As Skye was finishing off his fish, Hamish stretched out and pushed his empty bowl away from himself.

"The bad thing about sleeping all day is that now I'm not tired."

"I'm gonna take some food to Cookie and then go for a run," Slone said. "Prob'ly be gone for a few hours if you an' Duran want the room to yourselves for a bit."

"Hmm," Hamish said. "You know, that changes my whole perspective on the situation and I am now very much okay with it. Thank you."

Slone laughed.

"I'll make sure to knock when I get back."