#Angst Yaoi robots

[augustusmuv]

Jetstar cuz I needed to draw smth

Lazy ahh I need to sleep omg

[n14-25]

Was it worth it?

-

-

Drew this like a week before I saw tfone in theaters bc the brainrot was too strong

This movie is literally all I think about now, I’m back in the transformers building and here to stay this time 😭😭

Also working on megs bc why not!

[loudeluxe]

Ratchet random sketch angst. Because why not

[paninicupcakke]

Robot yaoi

Based these two off some OC’s

Brief lore: Spy & Demo are secretly dating. Demo goes missing and after a several months, Spy slowly becomes insane and falls in love with his “temporary” replacement robot.

I love just waking around tf2 maps and appreciating all the lovely details ; w ;

[adonisnt]

vide aurora borealis | meos amor aeternalis.

a skystar fanfic :]

tags: canon compliant. mostly just angst. hurt no comfort. doomed by the narrative. non-linear storytelling. missed romance (kind of). strangers to lovers to enemies. implied character death(s). canon character deaths. starscream suffers. skyfire also suffers. who suffers more? i don’t know lol.

total wc: ~26k (should be about 25,700 words)

notes: this is also posted to ao3 under the same username [adonisnt] if you don't want to wait for each chapter to come out. this ties into the episode 'fire in the sky' from g1! my first ever transformers fanfic so if it is bad. my fault......

chapter one under the cut :O

Archive 1920118: Starscream’s memory log. Data source: Nova Cronum, nine million years ago.

The cosmos before them is uncannily vast, the smaller ‘bot notes.

It’s not as if he hasn’t known how small Cybertron is in comparison to the broader universe, but as he stands at the precipice of the shuttle dock, it’s hard for him to not be aware of how small his home planet really is. He’d heard before that their world was laughably far from being large, yes; he had even seen his partner’s work exploring and charting far off planets, so it’s not like he was unaware that their world is small, and one of many. But he had not even finished seeing all of Cybertron, let alone the rest of the cosmos. For Primus’ sake, his own personal world was fragging founded here all those cycles ago, in this gleaming city of living metal and technomatter, in the academy he had once called home. The bustling air traffic routes and unendingly sprawling terrestrial roads were filled with other Transformers, each with their own personal little worlds; Nova Cronum was its own microcosm, as were all the other cities, their lights shining bravely against the backdrop of that infinite twilight sky.

But even the night sky of Cybertron was minute when compared the grand nothingness above––

The sound of heavy pedefall has his processor’s reverie stalling, though he doesn’t bother looking away from the infinite sky as the larger mech finally comes to stand at his side. “I am sorry for my tardiness, Starscream,” Skyfire apologizes, wringing his servos as he looks to the Seeker, “I was ensuring we had everything we would need for our expedition. It would be deeply unfortunate if we had to end our endeavors early due to being unprepared, especially considering all of the efforts you put in to ensure that we would not run into any complications of that sort.” the darker-hued mech scoffs, rolling his optics but remaining otherwise silent. Skyfire’s thoroughness was something he did appreciate, even if he’d never acknowledge such frail sentiments, and it would be hard for him to genuinely berate the Transformer that he appreciates most.

That fondness does not stop his worries from coming back, though.

…the heavens really do seem so terribly large, if he could choose to be honest with himself. Skyfire’s presentations and theses on the cosmos seemed to be mere make-believe in their descriptions of such allegedly profound grandness. Even in lectures in his youth about intergalactic exploration, space hadn’t seemed so vast; deep space had never been so intimidating. But fear is not something that he particularly likes feeling either, and he can feel his spark-rate accelerating at the vile emotion. What did he even have to be afraid of? It’s not as if they were about to embark on an expedition they had staked both of their reputations on, or like they’d be going trillions of hics away from Cybertron. from home––their home.

Skyfire’s servo startles him out of his pensiveness once more as it comes to rest on his pauldron. The contact is almost spectral, sending a small jolt down Starscream’s backstrut before he quickly recovers enough to regain his composure. The other Transformer, despite his extraordinary size, only ever touches him with the utmost care. It’s still a jarring thing, really, Skyfire’s gentle nature, though Starscream can’t say he’s complaining too terribly about it as the science-inclined scholar smiles down at him. “It will be alright, Star,” he reassures, soft-spoken solely for the Seeker’s sake, “and if we encounter any conundrums, we will solve them. We have done everything we could to prepare, and it is not as if you will be alone. We will be together, as we always are. Trust in our ideas. Everything will be alright.”

How infuriatingly kind.

Starscream’s optics flit to finally drink in Skyfire’s visage, and the sight of his equal’s warm countenance has some of the tension in his optical ridge easing. If he were more of a romantic, he would happily go on with some drivel-driven diatribe about his partner’s looks, or the mercy in every adoring act he offers Starscream so readily, or even about the passion that seeps out from that mech’s every move and machination. “Presuming that I’m worried about anything will never work out well for you,” the smaller mech deflects, scowling, “but if you insist on such platitudes, Skyfire, at least call me by my designation. Letting your spark bleed so carelessly is unbecoming, you know.”

Skyfire merely laughs at the admonishment, shifting to stand closer to his counterpart as he hums, “Forgive me, Starscream.” The sincerity of the apology has Starscream’s wings flaring briefly, though he’s quick to reign in his reaction and veil his surprise once more. “Well,” he begins, failing to maintain his miffed demeanor, “I suppose I can forgive it, this time. We need to leave now, anyway; the dockmechs are going to revoke our time slot, and then we’ll never find your silly planet.”

“Our silly planet,” Skyfire amends softly, his servo’s grasp tightening faintly for a moment before the white Transformer pulls away. Starscream glowers at the correction, though even he isn’t fooled by the ire he tries to display as the two make their way to their specific launch pad. It’s hard for the Seeker to be seriously displeased with the scientist even when he’s in his foulest of moods, and Skyfire’s muted enthusiasm is frustratingly infectious while the two stride down to their departure dock.

Silence falls between them as the two prepare to set off from the same city in which their sparks first connected, and Starscream’s agitation and annoyance acquiesce to his own eager anticipation. A quick glance to Skyfire has the smaller mech smiling fleetingly. Things’ll be fine, his processor concludes as he shifts to his alt-mode, his probability assessments coming back on his HUD with comforting coefficients and minimal errors detected.

They’ll be fine.

With the sound of engines roaring, the two jettison from the deep space exploration docks of Nova Cronum to explore the cosmos together.

Cybertron becomes a mere speck behind them, and the starry universe welcomes them with open arms.

next.

[cutelilspooky]

Untitled ObiGrievous Angst

The warlord stared vacantly at the wall of pipes in the ship. A sudden and violent cough erupts from his masked mouth, spraying flecks of blood across the wall. Still, he stares in his unwavering emotionless facade. A droid approaches carefully, knowing the consequences of merely interacting with the general.

“Sir, a report from-”

The droid falls silent as Greivous turns to face the robot. Even hunched over, the cyborg’s presence seems to render the mechanical soldier into nothing but a diminutive piece of future scrap. Despite the raw violent power emanating from Grievous, his eyes held that uneasy void of feeling.

“A transmission from- from Dooku, sir,”

The general said nothing, merely holding out his claws, not unlike a bird of prey. The droid handed over the transmission device before hurrying back to its post. Grievous let out another harsh coughing fit, finally snapping out of the trance he was in. He blinked, shaking his head as he pulled out a slimy strand of… something from the vent on his mask. Snarling, he retreated to his quarters to hear out the count away from the curious ears of any filthy droids.

“General Grievous, I have heard you are… unwell. Will this be a detriment to our cause?”

“No, it- it won’t,”

The general could barely contain the need to hack up whatever it was that was begging to get out of his system.

“Hm, very well then. I received your report, your capture of Kenobi was unexpected but not at all unwelcome. Do not kill him, not yet. We can use this to our advantage. Kenobi is of great value to the Republic and the Jedi.”

Grievous squinted at the Sith. He had every intent of killing the jedi scum. Had Obi-Wan not been knocked unconscious by a stray grenade, he would have been nothing more than another quartered corpse left littered in the hunter’s wake. 

“Fine,”

“I shall be heading there personally to interrogate him. I expect to find him with all limbs intact, General,”

The cyborg ended the transmission. Orders he would take. Insults he would not. Grievous stood there, rage building within him. He slammed his hand into the wall, though this did nothing to sate his anger, for it only reminded him of his dual existence. He could no longer feel, pain or otherwise, and yet pain was all he ever felt. Another coughing fit escaped him, blood and globs splattering his hand and the floor. Once again his eyes donned a distant expression. With his clean hand he picked up one of the bloody, phlegm-coated globs and whirled it about. A petal. Disgusting and bruised yet softly familiar. It was from his homeworld.

Grievous left his quarters immediately and made his way to the brig of his ship. Kenobi had been placed in a specially-constructed cell designed to prevent him from reaching out to the Force, or at least, make it more difficult.

“Hello there, General,”

Grievous glared at the little man.

“Kenobi,”

“Have you come to finish me or has Dooku stepped in yet?”

The warlord hissed at Obi-Wan.

“Well?”

“Dooku is on his way as we speak, Jedi scum,”

Grievous hacked up another glob of petals and blood.

“You’re sick, aren’t you?”

“One of your Jedi masters did this to me, the ‘honorable’ Jedi, ha, what honor is found in crushing your enemy’s lungs with your magic,”

“That is not all that ails you, Grievous, I sense there is more to it than that,”

General Grievous growled. Clearly the cell had not done as good of a job at hindering the filthy jedi’s connection to the Force.

“You know nothing of me, Kenobi, nor will you. Once Dooku has used you, I will raise your head upon a force pike and display it for all your order to see,”

“There is no harm in talking to a dead man, if you speak the truth, I will have no one to tell your secrets to,”

The general considered Obi-Wan’s words, but said nothing.

Back in the halls of the near-lifeless ship, the Kaleesh warrior stood once again staring at the pipes and machinery. He thought about how much he has lost. He thought about his many children. His wives. His people that counted on him to destroy the Republic and free them from their colonizers. He thought about Kenobi as well. His enemy. The very embodiment of the Jedi and the Republic. Everything he had grown to hate so much and yet… he could do nothing to him. Even if he could, would he? Surely he would, but some part of him felt fear at the death of Kenobi. His rival had given him a purpose beyond his people, a purposeful desire to destroy and not just protect or avenge. When Kenobi dies, would his desire die with him? Deep within what remained of the warlord’s flesh, he felt a terrible, awful kinship with the fellow warrior. He felt as though there would be no Grievous without a Kenobi to hunt. 

And as these thoughts pelted and clouded his mind like a sandstorm, he stared emptily at the pipes. And he coughed. More petals.

Days had gone by now as Grievous awaited the arrival of Count Dooku. His patience had begun wearing thinner and thinner as the Sith prolonged the engagement and prevented Grievous from doing anything. The General had begun regularly visiting the resident Jedi’s cell to mock and berate him, always to no success. As Grievous approached the cell for his daily session of verbal assault, he paused. Obi-Wan was talking to someone or something. Something that wasn’t Grievous.

“You droids are something else. Anakin might like a talk with you, haha,”

A B1 was speaking to the Jedi.

And then nothing was speaking to the Jedi.

“Oh, well, I suppose I shouldn’t be hearing from that droid anymore, shall I?”

The Jedi hunter stood there. Eyes fixed upon his captive prey. Hatred and something else, something burning. The general’s hatred was cold and callous, like the unfeeling body encasing what remained of his self. This was hot. This feeling boiled within Grievous’s skull like he had been set on fire from within. He said nothing.

“Aren’t you going to try to get a rile out of me? Or has your commander Dook-”

Grievous grabbed the Jedi by the throat, nearly crushing it in his murderous metal grip. Grievous watched as Kenobi squirmed, struggling for air. So much for the fearlessness of the Jedi, he thought. He released him.

“I am all there is for you now, Keno-”

Yet again the cyborg was thrown into the throes of another blasted coughing fit. They had only been getting worse now. He had begun to hack up entire flowers and every breath he took became a struggle.

Kenobi attempted to speak, even through the lingering pain of his captor’s strangling,

“You- you are dying, Grievous, I can sense it in the For-”

“SILENCE, JEDI SCUM, I am Qymaen jai Shelai and I will not die until every one of your order is wiped from this-”

He was on the verge of collapse now as the pressure in his lungs grew to a climax. His voice was unable to penetrate the obstruction within his throat.

“I- I can help you, Grievous, or should I call you Qymaen?”

Grievous looked to the blinded and bound Jedi with a new feeling now. Not the burning feeling or his cold hatred, but something simple and warm.

“Remove these inhibitors and I promise will heal you. Whatever happens after, I cannot promise,”

The general was torn. If he released Kenobi, he would have to kill him. If he did not release Kenobi, he would die. It was a choice and yet there was no choice in the matter.

Reeling in pain, the Kaleesh warrior quickly set free the Jedi. 

“Thank you, Grievous, I will not hurt you unless you force my hand,”

The general wheezed in disgust. What has happened to him? He should have died with honor over believing in the lies of Jedi. It made him sick.

Obi-Wan reached out, past the wires and panels and tubes that made up his enemy’s shell, reaching into what remained of the separatist’s flesh within. Obi-Wan felt the droid general’s pain, his grief, his need to protect his people corrupted into a need to see the galaxy burn. He pushed past these emotions, searching for the source of Grievous’s ailment.

Within the crippled lungs of the warrior, he sensed it. Flowers. The Jedi felt guilt for his false promise. He could not heal Grievous. The Jedi taught many force techniques for healing wounds and curing diseases, but this was something alive and growing within Grievous, and it was not of the Jedi to use the Force to kill. Grievous would die and, despite being enemies, Obi-Wan felt grief for his rival. Using the Force, Kenobi did the only thing he knew to do and pushed the flowers down, allowing for Grievous to once again breathe.

Immediately, the general shot up, grabbing Kenobi once again by the throat, fully prepared to bring an end to him. Obi-Wan for his part did nothing. He would not break his vow. Grievous positioned Kenobi’s own lightsaber under the human’s chin. All it would take is the touch of a button.

Grievous returned to his quarters. He could feel the pain in his chest had not gone away. He wondered if he had done the right thing. Then he wondered if he could do the right thing anymore. He looked at his hands. His cold, senseless hands. He wondered at the warmth he might’ve felt, had he not lost all that he was, had he taken hold of the Jedi’s throat with his own hands and not the hands of his master. He wondered if he could’ve killed Kenobi with those hands. In his cell, Kenobi wondered why Grievous didn’t.

[kitkat-sans]

Im am undeniably getting infected by the empurata prowl apocalypse in my feed inch by inch, , , brick by brick, slowly.. .. slowly. . .

it is making me want to practice drawing prowl and jazz then draw the au.

AHRGGHARRHGARHGAGHARHGHGAG--

[heidixml]

Goofy ahh oc x Canon doodles with my stupid oc, Heidi

(And some angst underneath here + Heidi's attempt at flirting with Lawrie)

[skywing206]

Bad news for @radiodontenjoyer fans

[fvnkyfvnk3r]

peak autistic hyperfixation is making your own transformers lore to push your weirdo ships

yes, toxic and tragic robot yaoi for meg/op

yes, one sided knight in shining armor soundwave pining for his leader

yes, an unconventional pair of bastards in starscream and airachnid

oh and bee angst of course

no relationship for him, he just suffers

[redrandomposts]

Hello! Sorry I have not sent an ask in some time but I had an idea to share-

So I am thinking that maybe in the same area as the till going back in time au’s. What if in this au Till and Ivan were in love (like the beach timeline maybe) and in that timeline Ivan died somehow. (Probably to save Till from something dangerous- or maybe drowning if they successfully ran away) Then till comes back and tries to push Ivan away because their love is what kill Ivan. And then Till behaves exactly like canon- but because he doesn’t want to hurt Ivan in the end. (Like refusing to run away because Ivan died from them running away and till is afraid of that happen again)

and till hopes that if he pushes Ivan away and never meets Ivan’s eyes Ivan won’t love him anymore! But then Ivan dies anyway and till feels foolish because he wasted a second chance to love Ivan pushing him away and hurting him.

I am not sure that makes sense but I think you will understand the main point!

Okay thank you friend,

-🍎

i was going to forgive u for not sending asks... and then u shattered my heart so lets call it uneven. (/hj. my heart is shattered.) my heart doesnt deserve this.

reason #1 not to join fandoms: they are all doomed to give you bad endings. orv? slaughterhouse of optimism. alnst? massacre of yaois and yuris and eveything inbetween.

reason #2: the fans reflect the fandoms. if the fandom is eternally sad, the fans will always post sad stuff.

...anyways, i think its obvious ivan dies to protect till in both lives. what i think is the real kicker is that till decided to show ivan love one life, and then deprave him of it the next.

aagghhh

till u r not the good guy in this. u can be a guy who loves ivan so much you'd give up happiness, but not even discussing it... and to think that u had a whole timeline to yourselves... and you still dont know what ivan truly wants.

yeah i think i understand this prompt very well. ive been in the angst longer than ive been sane.

ok, so, its successful escape au... im assuming before the actual performances, a bit after their main memories of anakt. thats my age interpretation of the beach art. i think this is an au where till didnt let go of ivan's hand...

guys. you can do this and then u can do canon, where till does let go, but he doesn't expect ivan to follow. he tries to push him away, but in the end, in r6, ivan dies.

or you can be unique and creative!

they both are forced to be near each other, as they are fugitives and escapees, but till keeps reminding himself to push ivan away. his heart hurts when he does, and breaks at ivan's dejected look. he perseveres, though, because above all all he wants is for ivan to live.

and then they're caught. till yells at ivan to go away, telling him to do something else. the attention of a guard robot patrolling is locked on them, about to fire a gun. ivan notices, but till doesn't, trying to forget the fact he broke ivan's heart yet again.

with a loud bang that deafens all of them, ivan attacks the robot. the bullet fires, tears at his torso, but he still attacks and attacks until the robot is sparking at the ends of wires, metal plates dented and broken into sharp edges that retaliate and cut ivan's hands.

ivan bleeds out in till's arms, years younger than his first death. till feels even more devastated—especially when ivan mouths "i love you," and shuts his eyes, clearly not expecting it to be returned.

ok thats enough tumblr for today

[yuyurui]

lowkey i miss the rot my brain went through being into parkciv and evbo stuff but also. i love tf i love giant gay robots in space fighting. yaoi angst etc etc. i guess that stayed. there is always yaoi angst

[haloberry]

Something Something ao3 writer's curse.

Infection I had? Turned into some massive head pains that landed me in the emergency room with an IV jabbed into my arm and made me pass out for like majority of the day.

I have a constant headache, hurting to move my head in any direction. I think the lowest the pain has been it like a 4.

I throw up every time I take medication, the only time I feel even remotely better is after I throw up

God saw me writing Old Man Yaoi and silly robot angst and now I've been put out of commission 😭

[paninicupcakke]

Still Yours💣🔪

(OC Bomb voyage journal entry oneshot)

(CW: angst / intoxicated venting / implied missing person)

Location: BLU owned diner

POV: Blu Spy (Jules)

📝

That pesky Engineer insisted on leaving you behind at the base.

As if he was embarrassed of the very machine he had built.

Regardless, I persisted and brought you with anyways.

I expected the public to stare, so I made myself comfortable in your lap.

I even spiked my milkshake in your honor.

So many judgmental eyes were glued to the both of us.

All gawking and whispering to each other.

I am well adjusted to the civilians ostracism.

Although, I did not expect our colleague’s to join in.

No one spoke to either of us the entire time we were there.

It was an odd blessing in disguise.

Back when you had flesh, those imbeciles would always butt into our conversations.

Now they avoid you like the plague.

I don’t care that you don’t eat food anymore.

I don’t care that your body is no longer warm.

I still want need you by my side.

I still belong to you.

I refuse to stop loving you.

I refuse to believe you ever left.

I know your soul is inside that machine.

All of your past hard work and contributions to this team will not go unnoticed or forgotten.

Clyde DeGroot.

(Some more accurate loadout references for Jules & Clyde)

[kivaember]

YES RUBICON REUNION OLD MAN YAOI Walter comes to Michigan like 'I'm here to discuss G13 Raven.' And Michigan knows damn well he's just here to angst. He also knows that Walter cant resist him--

there are a few old man yaoi anons in my inBOX BUT YOU GET THE LUCKY DRAW OF. i'm writing the pwp. here's a teaser wip bc ofc i can't help but do. fucking. worlbuilding. oeugh.

On the outskirts of Brigid, the provincial capital of the southern Belius region, the Redguns had set up their permanent base of operations within an industrial brewery complex. 

The deep, underground cellars that had once stored Rubiconian ale were now reinforced bunkers for ammunition and other dangerous substances, and the large, sprawling warehouses that had been used for ale storage prior to interstellar shipment had been converted into field garages for the Redgun’s ACs. What had once been a rustic perimeter of ornate fencing and lush gardens were now towering Bremer walls, steel-reinforced concrete that had regular patrols of both foot soldiers and MTs. Floodlights lit up the cracked road that snaked its way towards the complex, and its entrance had not one, but two tetrapod MTs standing guard, their robotic hands carrying heavy-duty gatling guns - keeping to the Dafeng maxim of “material superiority”. 

It made for an imposing sight, but Walter didn’t let a single shred of apprehension show as his transporter trundled towards that militarised outpost. His ride was fairly ubiquitous to the Rubicon of today: a BAWS-produced MRAP vehicle, heavy on the armour and designed to survive mostly landmines or peripheral explosions. If you weren’t rolling around in a heli-transporter or some sort of mech, then the BAWS MRAP (known ‘affectionately’ as the Pillbug) was the only safe way to travel on Rubicon.

His driver was one of the men Carla had ‘loaned’ him when he and C4-621 had landed on Rubicon. Her most ‘reliable’ men, she had sworn, and thus far Walter begrudgingly admitted he had no issue with them so far. Yeah, they spent their recreational time huffing Coral fumes or trying to get high from Coral-infused mealworms (with varying levels of success), but on the job - that being, repairing and maintaining C4-621’s AC and the garage, as well as collecting supply drops and doing other various chores - they functioned well enough. So long as they did that much, that was all Walter cared about. 

They were also fairly blase about practically everything. A hired merc off-world might’ve been sweating bullets driving up towards a military outpost that had more guns than a Furlong Dynamics warship pointing at them - but Carla’s RaD guy? He was smoking away, both hands tapping away at the steering wheel as the vehicle’s radio blasted out something that resembled dubstep, of all things. Not a single care or worry in his head. 

“Turn the radio off,” Walter muttered as their vehicle slowed to a halt in front of the outpost’s checkpoint. “The Redguns aren’t known for their taste in music.”

“Got it, Boss-man,” his driver drawled, obligingly muting the music and rolling the window down. A blast of arctic cold air immediately swept into the vehicle, but Walter suppressed a shiver. 

A heavily-armed guard approached the opened vehicle, dressed in tundra fatigues and their face concealed behind a balaclava and snow goggles, their hands grasping a frost-coated heavy assault rifle. Despite their imposing appearance, though, they seemed very relaxed. 

“ID,” they said flatly. 

Walter leaned forwards, resting a hand against the back of his driver’s seat as he held up his ID: his old Furlong Dynamics AC pilot one. Though it had been taken almost forty years ago, Walter had to admit that he’d lucked out on the genetics lottery and aged fairly well. His resemblance to the youthful Walter Kohler on the ID was clear.

“Michigan’s expecting me,” Walter said as the guard took the ID to closely scrutinise it. “I’m the handler of the independent mercenary, Raven.” 

The guard nodded and turned away slightly, accessing the walkie talkie hooked onto the front of their fatigues. Though they spoke quietly, Walter could still hear them over the loud growl of the vehicle and the whistling wind. 

“...yeah, Walter Kohler… the boss is expecting- right, okay. Got it…”

The guard turned back to face them and handed Walter his ID. “You’re clear to go in. Just you, though. Your driver’ll have to come back to pick you up when you’re done.”

“Fine.” Walter pocketed his ID and climbed out.

The ground was nothing but icy slush, but Walter kept his balance as he stepped away from the vehicle and shut the heavy door. He banged the side of the vehicle with his cane, and slowly the MRAP reversed away from the checkpoint. Walter didn’t wait to watch it leave, he just turned back to the guard. 

“Gotta go through security,” the guard said, pointing towards the checkpoint. Next to the large gates meant for vehicles, there was a small door leading into the attached building. “You’ll be given a pass, so no one thinks you’re some spy. Though…”

The guard’s gaze lingered on his cane, slowly dragging up to take him in as a whole. “I doubt anyone’ll think you a threat, old man.”

[dogshit-enchantment]

harvestella girlies what should i write,, im gonna write all of them eventually but im indecisive

this line up is so fucking funny