best-first - Tumblr blog

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does a guy deserve love even if he says okie dokie artichokie

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“Here, catch.”

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there are a lot of things about optimus’s Prime Ascension that show him being treated like an object and modeled to be just a matrix bearer rather than any genuinely respected or meaningful cybertronian leader but i think my favorite is the fact the matrix chamber constructed in his chest was set in front of his spark.

it’s a fanon thing (unless you count how Camiens show their spark to their amicas), but i like to imagine it robbed optimus of the ability to merge with his partners. and i love the perceived lack of consideration or care for his future and potential wants that that indicates— especially because it was done without optimus or anyone else even being certain he was going to be prime.

his body was altered in a way that made a certain type of intimacy completely inaccessible to him simply bc it was more convenient to someone else, and i love that shit

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Holds up a basketball.

Looks at Rung.

Squints a little harder at the basketball.

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Oh, no, Rodimus. Optimus makes a low grumbly noise in his intake and sizes him up before deciding it was going to be easier to just haul him up into his arms than go about it carefully.

It’s not a scenario he thought he’d find himself in, these days, but his concern wins out over any worries about being awkward or stifling.

Once Rodimus is securely squashed against his windshield in Cybertron’s most square attempt at a cuddle, Optimus ventures, “Do you… want to talk about it…?”

“Are you alright with being picked up, Rodimus?”

Thrusts his servos up at the taller mech.

He feels like a fucking idiot. He feels... heavy and sad. His optics sting and prickle.

His engine hiccups. He can't find his words.

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Butter Croissants dipped in Hot Chocolate (x)

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@a-life-revised

that's fucking it. bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark

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RODIMUS IS COMING TO VISIT?

Optimus pokes his helm in through the doorway, finials wiggling. “What’s the projected landing time? I’ll meet the ship at the field.”

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kitchenghosts

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He’s got climbing gear magnetized to him. What trouble is Optimus Prime going to get into today?

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Wiggle wiggle then shy nudge 💋

Hot Rod— no, wait, Rodimus. Right. Optimus lifts an arm to let the smaller mech bunch right up against him, then plops a kiss on the top of his helm.

“It’ll be alright,” he decides. “Whatever it is, it is.”

Optimus pats at Rodimus’ upper back, careful of his spoiler. “I hope I am making sense. What I am trying to say is… I want you to do what’s best for you. It will work out.”

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it's illegal to not say "oh big stretch" when your dog does a Big Stretch

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He wants to be good and not smudge the makeup Rung put on him.

But also his face kind of itches.

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Rung sits perched in Optimus’ cupped servos, which barely even tremble as the antique carefully brushes temporary paint over Optimus’ lips and around his optics.

The paintbrush is slim and angled, meant for calligraphic script but easily commandeered for other things, and Rung has been using it for things like this for, oh, several hundred centuries at least. Or something like that. Time doesn’t mean very much anymore.

But Optimus’ sapphire-sweet optics look all the more like jewels with a careful rim of black and gold around them.

“Are you going to let me do the rest of this, or are you done?”

“Uh-huh. I’ll be good.”

“You always are.”

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Cinnamon rolls (x)