#i am mean to blurr | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

random-cockroach · 6 months ago

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TUMBLR STOP CUTTING ME OUT OF SCREAMING TAGS I KNOW MY TUMBLR RIGHTS

#Swerve and Jazz were working before. Not in a right way but they DID #No one knew it wasn't the same agsgsghah #And now they meet hello ahsvehwb #OH PLEASE

My hands are shaky and my head is refusing to work properly! But! I made it!

The Blurr chapter for Mecha au >:D

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

Blurr's job is to smile for the camera and take the applause of people who praise him for his bravery and sacrifice. Blurr's job is to sell his face, his voice and his skills to millions of viewers. He must impress investors, show off advanced technology and make a determined face saying that to save mankind he is ready for anything. And then get in a luxury car and drive off to some expensive place to burn a whole bunch of zeros out of his paycheck.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

Under the cut

————————————

Nobody likes Blurr.

Okay, if you think on a large scale, everyone loooves Blurr. His face is on every poster, his brand is in every possible store, his voice and is in every cool commercial. You literally can't exist without knowing who Blurr is, or at least seeing his face once. It's a “Luke I'm your father” level phenomenon. How massive a rock do you have to live under to miss something like that?

Everybody loves Blurr. You can go buy a t-shirt with his face on it. You can go listen to his interviews or purchase a tiny replica of his action figure. There are incredibly many ways a Blurr fan can blow a hole in their budget.

Swerve knows, because he's done it many times. And recently, it's stopped being something he's proud of. To be precise, it was exactly four days ago when Blurr first stepped into his office. Swerve had just finished his shift and was finishing his tea when his boss suddenly appeared in the doorway, with the best racer in the world right behind him.

The tea was instantly dropped, adrenaline was released, and the brain was turned off.

In that moment, Swerve thought that this is what it must look like. The moment when all your good karma comes together in one pile to reward you for all the times you dropped a sandwich butter side down or missed a deadline.

Both of which happened with annoying regularity. Swerve is unlucky. Sometimes things seem to fall through his hands.

It started out great.

Swindle, their boss, showed up in the office space one day looking simultaneously jubilant, nervous, and very inspired. Usually on such occasions, Swerve could almost see the dollar signs reflected in his boss's glasses.

“Attention everyone. We have an important guest arriving in an hour.”

Swindle expressively pushed his glasses down on his nose and looked around the room

“I promised him a tour and I expect you all to behave yourselves.”

He meticulously looks around the floor beneath his feet

“Send someone to clean up all the trash. This place is unbelievably filthy. The floors should be sparkling in twenty minutes! And, oh! Hey you, go buy some good drinks.”

Having finished inspecting the floor Swindle hurriedly runs off, probably to say the same thing to the neighboring department.

Swerve stretches his neck out curiously, listening in

“Is the president coming to see us?”

Walking by, Jazz shrugs

“When the president was coming Swindle said the floor was dirty and made him wear boot covers.”

It's not the president

Swindle gestures generously to the entire office at once and looks overall like a bird trying his best to primp up

“And here we have the engineering department offices. In the next building is the assembly plant, that's where the mechs are put on their feet so to speak. And this is where all the computing, design, and planning happens.”

Just over his shoulder stands and looks around at none other than

Oh, dear God.

Swerve's tea flies to the floor next to his thought processes.

He's seen Blurr countless times, but never in person. How can this guy look as good in person as he does in expensive retouched-until-squeaky-clean photos? Mystery.

Blurr's gaze slides lazily over the simple office setting and for those two seconds when it's directed at Swerve it feels like sheer madness. He tries to look normal. He's not sure he's succeeding, but he's making an effort.

Swindle waltzes through the office, heading for the next door

“Come on I'll show you the mech hangar.”

Blurr grins.

“A highlight of the show I suppose~”

His voice is like a needle bursting a ball of stunned silence. People begin to rise from their seats and scramble to say hello. Someone asks for an autograph, others ask for a bunch of selfies, a couple people in the corner hastily fix their hair, one of the employees just pulls out his phone and shamelessly starts filming.

Swindle looks at the this with an unchanging commercial smile, but his gaze promises all kinds of punishment.

Perhaps if it had been the president, the buffoonery would have been smaller.

______________

For the next few days, Blurr is the big news and the center of all discussion.

Officially? He's becoming one of the pilots in the Mecha program.

In fact? Swindle's greedy soul couldn't get enough of the idea that the Mech concept could be monetized.

The dust is blown off Blurr and his boots are licked. He doesn't go to general training, he doesn't participate in ordinary or overly dangerous missions. He's allowed everything and a little more. His job is to look pretty on camera, speak his lines, smile and wink. He's a walking advertisement and Swindle's incredibly powerful tool in negotiating with investors.

Swerve once saw him called to a negotiation in the middle of the night, and even sleep-deprived and exhausted after a full day of filming, Blurr had the strength to pull that charming expression on his face and flawlessly play along with Swindle wherever he needed to.

His mech was a work of art. And that's not even an exaggeration. Usually the main purpose of mechs is to be efficient and practical. Blurr's Mech was made separately and so many people worked on its design that it could have its own end credits. It's beautiful, sleek, shiny and show-offy. It's designed to be awe-inspiring, but not so decorated that it's ridiculous.

When Swerve looks at its specs, he almost feels sick. Maneuverability, mobility, everything is absolutely top-notch. But most importantly, speed.

The technology to accelerate Mechs to incredible speeds has been around for some time, but the average robot doesn't reach even half of the technically possible maximum. Because even the fastest machine can't outrun the human brain.

After a certain threshold, pilots are no longer capable of controlling their own Mech. Human reaction speed is simply not enough to maneuver without crashing into anything or losing their orientation in space. And. Well. Without losing consciousness.

This has led to Mech manufacturers sort of tacitly agreeing on a rough speed limit and tending to stick to it. Just to make the technology safer and more suitable for everyone.

Regardless. Everyone except Blurr apparently.

Because the numbers across from his Mech's speed specs are horrifying. Swerve looks at the blueprints and thinks it's either freaking awesome or absolute suicide. Maybe something in between. Can a human being have reflexes like that? What about this turning mechanism? The numbers tell him that these levels of g-force make a large percentage of pilots just pass out.

Is Blurr really going to pilot this death wagon??

To achieve that kind of speed and mobility, they'd have to cut off half the armor or make it very light. Which would almost be like inviting a dangerous injury.

But if the Mech is made primarily to flaunt rather than fight...well... it probably makes sense.

Swerve's inner fan is sliding down the wall.

Blurr is incredible. And what's even more incredible is that he's kind of sort of almost Swerve's coworker now.

It only takes him a couple days to realize.

Everyone loves Blurr.

But the one who loves Blurr the most is Blurr himself.

The rose-tinted glasses are breaking slowly but surely. On the first day, Sverve walks up on shaky legs to get introduced. He tells himself that this is definitely not an attempt to get an autograph. They're coworkers. He's just...uh...greeting a new employee.

Blurr looks slightly bored.

“You're from this department....uh.. What's its name, whatever.”

Swerve clutches his hands in front of him so he doesn't accidentally drop anything

“OH.Uh yeah. Swerve! Engineering Department. You were there on a tour the other day. I usually work in the assembly plant, making armor for Mechs, developing new alloys. But I design too! I, uh.

(Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. He'll think you're a crazy fan. Don't talk about Blurr.)

Blurr starts to get sidetracked by his phone.

Swerve swallows awkwardly.

“I'm uh. I'm a big fan of yours. Sir.”

(Good job...)

Blurr chuckles softly and offers out his hand

“Well, nice to meet you.”

Sverve's hand is shaking like crazy, he hopes he isn't squeezing too hard. Working in the assembly has made his hands rough. Blurr's narrow, soft palm is almost sinking in his grip.

“ 'Nice to meet you, yes. Nice to meet you sir! If you, ah, if you have any problems or questions or uh, well. You know, if you need help with your Mech or upgrades or or.”

Blurr chuckles.

“I'll be counting on you~”

Swerve feels like his soul is about to break away from his body.

The next, day when they cross paths in the hallway Blurr waves to him.

“Hey you. Whatever your name is. Can you tell me how to get to Block D?

Swerve stops awkwardly.

“Ah. Of course! I'm Swerve sir. Come, I'll show you.”

Blurr smiles a beautiful, ad-libbed smile and follows him in

“Thank you darling.”

From this point on, the entire program gradually learns a simple but unpleasant truth.

Blurr is an asshole.

And nobody likes him.

He always has everyone at his beck and call. You rarely get to see him on his own. There's always someone swirling around him with a guilty or annoyed face. A sort of serve-get-show-explain designated poor guy.

Swindle treats Blurr like a precious antique vase.

Blurr treats people like his servants.

The whole world is in love with the glittering cover, the image polished to a squeak. Until recently, Swerve was doing the same thing. Now it feels more like an embarrassing crush.

Blurr still doesn't remember his name. He actually remembers at most three to four people by name, and calls everyone else “hey you” or “ darling”. After Swerve reintroduced himself to him for the fourth time he just sort of...stopped trying.

On the field, Blurr is incredible. No one can deny that. The tremendous speed of his Mech leaves all the other pilots in the dust. Whoever said human reflexes weren't fast enough? HA. When Swerve sees his reports and results, he gets dizzy.

The combination of such incredible speeds and light armor means Blurr simply can't miss. If he hesitates, if he falters. If he gets confused. The whole metal thing will smash him to smithereens.

And yet Blurr comes back untouched time after time.

Swerve's no longer inclined to think it's just because of his mad skills. He knows that Swindle is paying Blurr a lot of money for his cooperation. No one would let Blurr fight on the front lines, no. It would be too dangerous. He has to do just enough so that Swindle can record a commercial and in it call Blurr a badass pilot without adding small print to that statement.

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. But he is the first person every citizen would name if asked to say something about the Mech program. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

A month later, he still can't remember anyone's names and sometimes calls people by the colors of their clothes, laughing as if they should take it as a cute joke.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

That's okay.

It's not like fanboying over Blurr is Swerve's only passion.

He gets upset.

Then he gets mad and rips down all the posters.

Then he has no time to be angry because Swindle wants to launch Mechs into outer space and damn it, Jazz flies off the planet and doesn't fucking come back. The engineering department stays up nights trying to figure out where he's gone, but they can't.

Unlike Blurr, everybody loved Jazz.

Unlike Blurr, Jazz deserved every ounce of that love.

The ground beneath his feet is starting to shake.

At first, all that happens is panic. Everyone starts making a confused noise, someone assumes an earthquake.

A voice on the speakers says that everyone needs to evacuate immediately, but no one hears it because huge mechanical tentacles start coming through the windows and the whole building starts shaking, creaking and crumbling.

Sverve has seen the monsters humanity has to fight many times. But never this close. And their size leaves him absolutely terrified. These things are huge, they take up all visible space. And what's most damning is that they can break down the walls around Swerve like a fucking cookie.

He's gonna die. Oh god he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die here under this stupid rubble or get eaten or turned into one of the ugly bloody stains on the wall. His heart is doing a million beats a minute and his eyes are starting to sting. He tries to get to the emergency exit, but the door is blocked by one of the huge toothy creatures that is actively trying to get in.

Next to him, Swindle is shouting to someone on his comm, trying to sound louder than the rumble of the collapsing building and the hungry aliens.

The floor tilts at a very disturbing angle and Swerve grabs one of the interior doorways to stay in place. A second later, he reaches out and pulls Swindle, who has already slowly begun to slip toward the monster's huge hungry maw, to the same doorway.

Swindle grabs onto the frame of the door and Swerve at the same time. His glasses are cracked and his usually neat expensive coat is all dust and debris.

“It was a trap.”

Swerve can't hear a word over the grinding of breaking structures.

“What?”

Swindle almost slips and falls, but Swerve grabs him by the scruff of his coat and puts him back on his feet. Working in an assembly shop gives a man strong arms and right now he's very grateful for it.

Swindle makes a second, louder attempt

“It was a trap!!! All available pilots are now on the other side of the country! I've called for backup, but who knows how fast they'll get here.”

A smooth, silky voice comes from a walkie-talkie strapped to his coat.

“Ouch Swindle. So little faith in my professional skills?”

Swindle rounds his eyes

“Blurr??! Where are you!”

Blurr's voice sounds...not quite as it usually does. It's missing the habitual lazy note. The one that makes him sound like the whole world owes him money.

“Give me another minute and the answer will be 'here'.”

The building shakes again. Swindle swears so eloquently that Swerve can't help but admire it.

Swerve can't stand Blurr's smug face, but when he spots the first glimpse of blue metal in the window, joy floods his brain.

He usually associates Blurr with dumb nicknames, dismissive treatment, and commercials.

Now he watches the sleek, fast Mech lunge fearlessly at the monsters surrounding the building and thinks that. Fuck this. He's an asshole, but if he buys Swerve enough time to evacuate, he'll bring him a thank you card or something later. Though it's unlikely Blurr will care about that of course.

Swindle continues to shout instructions over the walkie-talkie. Swerve basically drags him outside by. He jumps up probably a full meter when very near him one of the monsters falls to the ground.

Blurr's Mech stands proudly on top of the fresh corpse and looks...actually really bad. Swerve knows that this particular robot was not built for rough, open confrontation. Its armor is too thin. Designed for speed and agility, not strength. He assembled it himself, after all.

Many of the plates are crumpled. Some are torn off. His legs are intact, but one of the joints sparks funny.

Blurr quickly looks around and Swerve unwittingly follows his example. The whole place is on fire. Office buildings are in ruins and a huge column of black smoke rises above the assembly plant.

Blurr's Mech drops to the ground and gets down on one knee. The plates on its chest are pulled aside and Blurr sticks his head out of the cockpit while simultaneously opening the visor on his helmet.

“Everyone okay?”

Swindle clutches the walkie-talkie

“The office areas are empty, but there still could be people left on the lower floors of the assembly plant. But we have no access there!”

Blurr drums his fingers quickly on the metal plate

“Fire?”

Swindle shrugs his dusty shoulders

“Something exploded at the bottom of the building. It's a real smelter down there.

Even if we send a Mech, it won't last more than a minute before it overheats. Or make the building collapse.”

Blurr's gaze becomes focused. Sharp. Swerve has seen that look many times on tough front line fighters like Jazz. On Blurr, never.

“'That's enough time for me.”

Swindle waves his hands

“Are you crazy?”

Blurr slaps his palm against the armor of his Mech

“This baby is light. Lighter than anything you've got! If anyone can do it without dropping the building, it's me. They make Mechs in the assembly hall, it's got high ceilings right?”

Swerve wants to snap. He wants to throw his hands up angrily and yell something along the lines of “you were literally there!”

Who else is down there on those lower floors??? Tailgate? Maybe Wheeljack? If something exploded, Wheeljack was definitely there. And probably closest to the explosion.

Swindle curses furiously, but retreats and runs off to give orders to someone else.

“”Be a hero if you want, but I'm not going in there. For all I know there could be melting metal in there instead of a floor! It's just not reasonable.”

Swerve's brain stumbles over that statement. Why...Swindle is acting like he's being forced to climb into that building too...?

Blurr looks nervous.

“You know what. Fine. I got it. Hey, you--”

And there it is. The good old namelesness.

Blurr pays no attention to Swerve's frowning face, nor his hands shaking with fear

“ You're familiar with those buildings. You know who was there and where to find them right? I need you to walk me through.”

Swerve feels the urge to snap again and this time doesn't hold it back

“If you cared about something other than yourself, you'd know this damn building and the people who work in it too and !”

“I don't fucking remember!” Blurr interrupts him.

Swerve doesn't have time to put anything in after that. Though a sarcastic comment is begging to be made.

Blurr quickly takes off his helmet and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

“I don't remember okay! This isn't a fad or posing or whatever else you think of me. This is what an accident can do to you if you miss a turn! I can't remember shit, okay?! Do you need a medical report?!”

Swerve just...stands there with his mouth open and probably looks like an idiot.

Blurr nervously tucks back his disheveled hair. The longer he talks, the faster he does it.

“Now. I know you don't want to die in a pit of fire. But I need your help to save them. Don't do anything, just take the map. I promise I won't let you die.”

He sounds determined. And holds out his hand to Swerve, silently inviting him to climb up onto the Mech.

His face is stained in sticky dust, his hair is an absolute mess, and his narrow palm is covered in streaks of soot. It's as if he's been dragged face down a muddy road.

He's. Very Handsome, Swerve thinks.

He takes his hand.

Blurr helps him up, pushes him into the space next to the pilot's seat, and closes the cockpit.

“Been inside a working Mech ever?”

Swerve clenches his hands nervously on the back of the seat

“No.”

The lights of the consoles around him come to life as Blurr puts on his helmet. The space around him hums. It's a strange noise. At once unsettling and calm.

Mech feels alive, he thinks. Then corrects himself. Blurr is mind-linked to this Mech. This Mech can technically be considered alive in a sense.

Blurr moves one of the monitors toward him and opens the map.

“Just mark the path here. Don't touch anything else. And hold on tight. I won't be going too fast anyway, but it'll be shaky.”

Swerve swallows nervously.

“Understood.”

After that, everything turns into motion. Watching the Mech work while being inside is mesmerizing.

Blurr doesn't say much, concentrating on the controls. His hands aren't shaking anymore, Swerve notices. Not even a little.

He steers the machine forward confidently and smoothly, dodging falling debris and avoiding the biggest pockets of fire without panic or hesitation.

He's also strictly following the path Swerve is laying out for him.

The air filtration system is doing well so far. Swerve can feel the smell of burning and the heat slowly creeping up, but it's bearable for now. For now.

They find a man on the nearside of the emergency exit.

Two more people a floor below. A small group stuck in the elevator.

Wheeljack's on the doorstep of his lab.

Blurr pulls them all out. Picks up the first group of people and carries them outside, goes back into the fiery furnace, finds more survivors, pulls them out, goes back, searches, rescues, goes back, searches, rescues.

The heat is coming up. Swerve can feel it. The plates around him are getting hot. The air smells like burnt wires.

Blurr’s Mech wasn't designed for this kind of thing.

His Mech was made to flash for the camera and accelerate to impossible speeds. To deceive and confuse the enemy. Its armor is thin and cools easily in the air, which usually helps it avoid overheating.

This also means that this Mech heats up very quickly as well.

Now, with the air around him feeling like a red-hot frying pan, Swerve regrets not saying anything back then. He regrets that he didn't make any changes to the blueprint.

More and more warnings pop up on the screens. The map stopped working correctly some time ago and Swerve is forced to give directions verbally.

He nervously grips the back of the pilot seat with one hand and, without noticing, Blurr's shoulder with the other.

Blurr carries two more people outside and hands them to the rescuers. Then turns back to the building again and. OH FUCK. Right in front of him, a huge crack begins to creep along the structure. This thing is on the verge of collapse. The roof is already starting to fold down in a very bad way.

Swerve clenches his grip fearfully and hears Blurr hiss through his teeth.

Suddenly, the cockpit opens. The fresh air of the street feels like a cold sledgehammer blow after the heat and stuffiness of the lower levels.

Swerve is about to ask something, but doesn't have time because Blurr uses Mech's hand to gently but quickly pull him outside and set him on the ground.

“You were going to mark another spot.”

Swerve nods hurriedly.

“Tailgate is still there.”

Blurr wrinkles his face.

Swerve corrects himself and clarifies

“Bright blue uniform. Short. Considering all the places we've been, I think he's in the staff quarters. It's...”

He chews his fingers, trying to remember numbers and directions without a map

“...two floors down, left, another floor down and straight ahead.”

As he speaks Blurr bends over the side of the open cockpit and spits...blood on the ground. His nose is bleeding, Swerve realizes. That's not good. It's a clear sign of a malfunctioning neural connection. Or damage to his respiratory system? Possibly both.

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his worried look

“Two down, left down then. Shit. Wait. Two down, left then down, straight ahead yeah?”

Swerve nods.

Blurr keeps repeating these directions like a mantra. A very fast and creepy mantra.

His gaze roams strangely and his breaths sound hoarse. His teeth and chin are covered in blood and his face is streaked with soot.

Swerve understands. He's about to do another go.

Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight.

Alone. He's going, and he's going to fry himself alive in there for a stranger he doesn't even remember.

Swerve doesn't have time to say anything. What's he gonna say? Stop? But he wants to save Tailgate? Go on, I believe in you? But it's certain death.

Swerve rarely has nothing to say, but this time he can't find the right words.

Blurr wipes the blood with his sleeve, wrinkles his nose, and storms off, heading back into the flaming mess the plant has become.

Not twenty seconds later, the roof collapses, spewing a huge cloud of smoke, ash, and fire into the sky.

Swerve wrinkles his shirt nervously in his hands.

The walls are still in place, right? If the roof is gone but the walls are still standing it's... it's. It's.

Damn it. He's trying to remember the blueprints. It means the ejector will work. It means Blurr can still get out through the top. That--

Blurr's not getting out. As the small, bright blue escape pod appears above the falling walls of the building, Swerve feels his brain stop. Remember the blueprints, remember the damn blueprints. The Mech is light, the design is compact, the space in the pod is for only one person.

In the capsule lies an unconscious Tailgate.

Swindle grasps the radio

“Blurr? BLURR!”

Swerve looks at the smoke and ash and feels numb. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He has to know. He doesn't...

He feels weird. The same kind of weird as when objects fly seemingly through him. Everything just stops being real.

The thought comes out of nowhere. You don't have to obey the rules. You can see more. Just look.

He's not sure how or why he's doing it.

No one around him is paying much attention to him. Everyone's busy with survivors and damage assessment or just stunned by the chaos.

And him? He disappears.

And then he appears at the bottom. Under the rubble.

All around him is ugly, molten and red-hot chaos, but he doesn't care anymore. He feels like whatever is happening is about to end and he just has to be in time. Time for him to find out.

Blurr's Mech lies crushed by the fallen roof. Its cockpit is open. A gaping hole where his chest was, the place where the escape pod had undocked.

Wall debris has pinned him in a crooked, grotesque pose.

Blurr is here. His legs are wedged between crumpled metal plates inside the cockpit, leaving him hanging upside down. His suit is charred. Half of his face is destroyed. It looks like a horrible bloody and burned mess. It's ugly and gruesome.

Blurr opens his only working eye and gives Swerve a cloudy look.

“I must be seeing things...”

Swerve shrugs in daze. He knows he shouldn't be here.

Blurr spits up a mouthful of blood

“I'm sorry I hurt you uh...”

“Swerve.”

“Yes. Swerve. It's hard for me to remember things unless they're...akgh...hell... not in my face all the time.”

Swerve moves closer and frowns

“You know, that explains but doesn't excuse you.”

Blurr closes his eye and coughs. That sounds really bad.

“No...I guess not.”

He huffs off the blood again. The burned half of his face is oozing with it. The blood runs down his forehead, collecting in a small puddle on the floor.

“It was better than letting everyone know what's wrong with me. I can't even begin to think about the amount of messes I'd be dragged into.”

Swerve notes that the fire seems to be getting closer.

This whole bit of dialog is so unnatural. Who even talks about that kind of stuff before they die. On the other hand. Well. Character development?

“So you think it's better to have everyone assume you're a jerk than that you got your head screwed on?”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“ You're a very specific kind of ghost.”

Swerve shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away

“I needed to know. Before you die.”

“That's ...akghhh...ha....it's good to know. Can you tell me something Swerve? As..agh...

As a last wish?”

Swerve shrugs again. He stares at the dripping blood. At the ugly, bubbling burns. At the burst vessels in his eye and the paths of blood from his bleeding nose. He looks at the broken and scorched and dying bloody mess.

He looks at Blurr.

And he thinks, until today, he didn't really love Blurr. Not with the posters and figurines. Not with the disdain and dislike.

He loved an image. And hated an image.

He reaches out and tries to touch Blurr's hand, but goes through it.

“I'm sorry. But we're both not really here. And I have to go.”

He can feel the cold metal around him, which is strange because he's standing in the middle of smoking and burning ruins

“But if it makes you happy, I guess you're my favorite character after all.”

Blurr doesn't answer. Swerve isn't sure he even heard him.

The feeling of metal around him grows sharper.

Someone shines a flashlight in his face.

Swerve blinks stupidly and tries to move away.

The unknown Autobot medic standing over him smiles happily and puts the flashlight away

“Welcome back. You've been in a coma Primus knows how long.”

The other medic to the side frowns

“You have zero tact.”

Swerve blinks his optics puzzled, raises his servo and for a while just stares at it like some movie character. All around him is an Autobot medbay. Metal walls. Metal instruments. And him. Metal.

Yes. Seems so. That's the way he's always been. That's right.

“Doc, you won't believe what kind of weird dream I had.”

___________

Swerve feels like he's going crazy.

He's standing in the middle of a hallway on one of the Autobot ships, and he's staring. shamelessly.

There's Prowl standing at the end of the hallway. And on his shoulder is...

“ JAZZ????”

Both bot and human turn around abruptly at his scream. And both look equally puzzled.

Jazz waves his hand

“Do I know you?”

Swerve is definitely going crazy. It's Jazz. The same one. From his...dream??? But he's real and tangible??? Sitting on Prowl's shoulder, talking and breathing and being seen by everyone not only Swerve????

“You're...real...?”

Jazz raises his eyebrows

“I am. Yes. Really Mech, you sound very familiar.

But I can tell you for a fact that I have not been friends with any Cybertronians before...”

This can't be, this can't be, this isn't....

It was a dream. The spawn of his TV series-addled mind. A hallucination. It wasn't real. It wasn't, was it?

But Jazz is here. And he disappeared from Earth. And now he's here.

And.

What the..

Swerve blurts out something like “sorry-sorry-see-you-later-now-I've got to go” and runs off.

“HEY DOC????”

The autobot, already familiar to him, flinches

“Primus...Swerve? Is something wrong?”

Swerve realizes that everything is about to either make sense or lose it completely.

“Tell me...is it possible to project a holoform...like...very far away?”

The Doctor tilts his head.

“Depends on power consumption. If you channel all the energy available in a frame, you can go very far. But that would send you into a...coma...if you...tried...Swerve, is there anything you'd like to tell me?”

“Doc do you know where Earth is?”

“Wha...no?”

Swerve chuckles nervously and bites his knuckles.

“I don't either. But I think I've been there...”

#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #OKAY OKAY OKAY I'M FINALLY HERE AND I SWEAR TO GOD I AM IN LOVE WITH IT WITH EVERY INCH OF ME #OKAY OKAY OKAY WHERE TO HOW TO #President is not as important pfffht #Everyone loves Jazz!!! Yes everyone does and now Jazz left PLOT INTERVENING MY FAV MY FAV HERE IT GOES OH GOD #Blurr forgetting names and EXPLANATION TO IT #He forgets everything because of the Mecha he had to pilot and little misses in it and no better be a jerk #I mean it could be used against him so of course #He. Goes in. Saving people. In that burning hell. Every back and forth #His mech is lot built for it but he goes straight in #Oh my god I need a moment to breath #LAST GO AND HIS FACE BURNED. HERE IT GOES #*puts phone down* *gets phone back*#How do I even....#Swerve...#I MAKE SUCH AN UGLY FACE WHEN HE “BECAME TRANSPARENT”#Just flew out of his body #While Blurr was talking #And then APPEARED ON CYBERTRON AS A BOT AHAHAAHH #THIS IS 10000 TIMES BETTER THAN I COULD IMAGINE I AM GOING CRAZY #AN EARTH FAN WHO FANNED SO HARD THAT ENDED UP PROJECTING HIS HOLOGRAM ON EARTH AND GOT INTO COMA #PLEASE I HAVE AN UNBEARABLE UMPUNT OF LOVE FOR THIS TURN #THE TALL OF THESE TWO AHAH #THEN SEEING JAZZ WPFKIFODOSPAPF #oh god I need to sit down again....#AH I SAW THAT BLURR WILL BE ALIVE SO I JUST "YOU WON'T DIE.'#BUT SWERVE IS SURE HE WILL DIE #And he just guilt tripped him before death ahah oh sh and then called him his fav character #SWERVE. SWERVE AHAH HELLO NOW THIS ISN'T A DREAM AHAHAHA #fav

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10yrsyart · 4 months ago

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a long tf sketchdump i started after watching Transformers One last year, which was great btw! (also Soundwave is one of my faves but he somehow didn't make it into this, RIP my guy 🥺 to be fair, most of these are the beginnings of ideas that don't reach conclusion so -shrug-)

also also, i watched TFA for the first time, and i CANNOT believe they really just squished my boy Blurr into a cube while still alive and left him like that 😤 i know the show got cancelled and they had plans to bring him back, but like, hotdang! SO of course i decided to slap some claustrophobia on that sucker. y'know, as a treat ✨

transcript:

(Chitty Chitty Bang Bang design) -Neutral non-combatant

-Came to Earth early, joined the races

-Lost most of her memories after the Crash

-Forgot to act non-sentient around the family who adopted her

(Wander Over Yonder designs)

Hatertron: UgggHH! That STUPID, orange Autobug, GAH, I could just wring his ne-

Peeperscream: SIR!! FOCUS!

-Wander is a Neutral Autobot sympathizer

-Sylvia is an Autobot, but protective of Wander

-Hater messes up so many plans, Peepers is the only reason Megatron hasn't figured it out

-Peepers admires Starscream's intellect, but avoids him at all costs

(TFA comic)

Rodimus Prime: Uhm, Agent Blurr? ..You good?

Agent Blurr: Rodimus-Prime-sir! There's-nothing-wrong, why-would-anything-be-wrong? This-is-a-party; a-celebration-for-the-Autobots'-GRAND-victory-over-Megatron, which-we're-all-overjoyed-about-so-there's-really-no-reason-to-be-worried-about-the-amount-of-mechs-and-femmes-in-this-room-of-which-there-is-a-perfectly-normal-number-for-a-celebration, and-it's-not-as-if-we've-reached-max-capacity-so-I'm-SURE-the-space-is-NOT-too-small-even-if-the-walls-are-getting-closer-and-closer-and-no-one-seems-to-care-that-it's-too-small-in-here-and-can't-vent-I-can't-I-I-c-I-ca-

Rodimus: Whoa, hey! Ok, ok, let's go outside for a bit, yeah? I'm tired of people asking it I'm “still infected” anyway... Like, obviously. It's Cosmic Rust.

Blurr: ...This-is-humiliating, completely-pathetic-behavior. I-am-a-professionally-trained-intelligence-agent-of-the-Elite-Guard, THEREfore-I-should-not-be-losing-my-composure-whenever-I-enter-a-room. But-I-begin-to-feel-trapped-and-I-I-I-I-can't-...

Rodimus: ..Yeah. Sometimes, I just- freeze. It feels like ice is crawling up my arms and legs and chasiss.. it hurts. I mean, I know it's not happening, but that's how I feel. It sucks. But we made it, we survived. It's still hard, but there's gotta be something to that, right? The effort and struggle is worth it, or whatever.

Blurr: With-all-due-respect, I'm-quite-sure-you-are-terrible-at-this-sir.

Rodimus: Dang. Alright, fine, that's fair. But do you feel better?

Blurr: Marginally, thank-you-Rodimus-Prime.

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dark-night-hero · 1 year ago

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"So it's true! You and her- Guizhong were a thing. Then what the hell does that make me Morax?!" "Can you just drop it of? We're in a hurry." He was tired. And their friend was in danger. "No! Knowing you'll be out there to save your other lover, tell me the truth Morax! Is it true?!" It was the same topic of argument for some time now. He had been denying it over and over again, he just cannot seem to understand why you kept insisting even after hearing him say that was not the case. And he was getting tired of it.

Guizhong was just a friend and that very same friend is now in danger if they do not arrive at rhe right time and here he is getting hold up because of your questions. And knowing you would not let him go even if he were to deny it because that was the truth. Maybe he should give in for now to avoid further more questioning and leave as fast as he can so he could come back to you in now time, knowing that he could easily resolve the misunderstanding and his lies. "You know what. It's true. Now if you just get out of the way, I need to save her." "Wha-what? Wa-wait! Morax-!"

He did not mean to be harsh than he already is. He was just mad, mad because he saw no reason why you should get jealous of a friend, a common friend of yours. Mad because he was running late and a little more than to it could possibly result the death of a dear friend. At the same time, he was mad at himself for leaving that way. But he knew he could always explain when he came back into you. The two of you could always sort it out after the battle like you two always does.

So why? So why in the world- celestia were everything was on fire. And you were in the middle of it, leaning on your weapon for support, blood running down all the way from your temple into your chin. It was not just that. You are bleeding, bleeding all over. Why. Why why why why why? Just what the hell happened in here?

"Don't come." You utter, despite the fact that you could barely stand, you painfully look forward to your lover... heh, can he still be called a lover when he already admitted that he betrayed you? "Some..." you pant. "Some beings came into the city while you were away... hahh, I manage to defend the city until all the people manage to flee but- cough! Hahh, the god manage to escape."

"No. No no no no no." It was getting hard to breathe, nevertheless you should see Morax from afar, running towards you. "Bastard- I told you not to come he-!" You stagger forward, for a moment losing consciousness, still, you embrace yourself with the thought of you hitting the ground. But you never did.

"Let go." "It was a lie. There was no one else." "Morax- I said-" "I was in a hurry, I did not mean to say those words. Guizhong was only a friend. Believe me. God- Celestia. There is no one else. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me." He was hugging, cradling you in his arms. His tears rolling down his cheeks, into your own but you were feeling quite numb to notice that.

"It's..." You tried to hold up a hand but you could only feel the pain and the more it drains you. In the end you could only hold on into his arm. "It's okay... you don't have to lie to make me... feel better." You tried to smile to make him feel better, so why does it look like he was about to lose his whole world? "No. No please. It's nothing like that. I was a fool, I am a fool. Please believe me there is no one else but you. (First name). Please."

You knew he was talking, you can see him talking despite how things were slowly starting to go blurr, you can hear a few words but cannot seemed to focus on it when there is a high pitched ring that makes you unable to focus on what he was saying. Also, "It's cold." You mumble, fighting everything you can to stay conscious.

"Fuck!" Morax can feel your body slowly but surely cooling down. Suddenly his heart dropped as he panicked, he was getting anxious. He felt fear for the first time in his life. "Hold on, please hold on." He tried, he tried his best to fix you with his powers but it was no avail. You have so many wounds, you have already lost a lot of blood. You were dying all ago. "Fuck." He cursed once again. "Fuck, fuck! I told you to hold on (First name)!" He was getting mad again.

Morax felt like he was going mad, he felt like he was about to get crazy. Specially when he saw you starting to close your eyes. He felt a shiver down his spine. "Don't you dare close your eyes (First name)!" Not like this, not when you seemed to sure that he never loved- love you. "Fuck!" His amber iris were glowing with that presence of a dragon. "Don't you dare fell asleep (First name). I'm begging you please-?" He felt a light squeeze on his arm.

"Its.. okay." Taking your last breath, Morax felt the heavy weight of your now dead body in his arms. Your hand falling to your side as your head rest in his chest. At that very moment a rain drop fell from the sky, Morax arms were trembling yet still manage to pull you closer to him as if trying to find a little warmth. "Hah, hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHA."

That day, the dragon lost his mate. His one and only mate as his anguish cries were heard all throughout their land.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

: bye, may klase pa ko ng alas quatro sa hapon.

: Also, why is it always zhongli who become the victim of my angst ideas. Tho I might make a same promt with ???

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caprisunr · 4 months ago

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I hold my stance on the fact that Maddie and Chim know about Buck's feelings for Eddie. You only have to rewatch 7x04 to realise how they know more than they let out. We all know how Maddie probably has an idea about how Buck feels from the "Boy Crush" comment back in season two. Well, the comment goes hand in hand with Chimney's : "I am your basketball beard. I feel so bonded" Specially when we take into account how he didn't know about how Tommy and Buck would end up being a thing. The comment is directed at Eddie's persona in relation to Buck's actions. And in both situations Buck doesn't deny it.

Not to mention, Buck can't help but overshare, and he is so transparent with Maddie that he straight up confessed to want Eddie's attention this whole time. Only to misdirect his feelings later on in the episode because it just made sense that he harbored those feeling for Tommy the gay guy, than Eddie the 'straight guy' who also happens to be his best friend. —Tommy also was the one who showed up at his doorsteps and kissed Buck. So at that time it only made sense for him that 'Oh, yeah. Maybe I do like this guy.' If you guys are wondering what moment I'm referring to (Buck confessing to wanting Eddie's attention) this happens after Buck tragically sprains Eddie's anckle. He visits Maddie at dispatch to say the following: "I was pissed, you know. seeing him and Tommy become such good friends after only two weeks. I felt left out, and I guess I was trying to get his attention." Referring to Eddie's, in no moment of their conversation do they insinuate Tommy being the one that Buck has his attention set on.

"But you don't like basketball."

"I know. But now he's going with Tommy, and he's got it circled."

Buck goes out of his way to include himself back in Eddie's life in places where he wasn't before because he feels that Tommy is taking all that empty spaces he's left. All his actions are directed towards Eddie, which he is conscious of at the beggining that it is about Eddie. But at some point in the episode his feelings get mismatched and the lines blurr between the two guys who are very similar to the other. Buck becomes an unreliable narrator of his own emotions, which happens somewhere between Maddie's and his conversation at her house and spraining Eddie's ankle.

"Acdording to Christopher he's already been over three times. Eddie just met the guy like two weeks ago. Christopher thinks he's 'so cool'." I would like for everyone to notice the emotional distance between Tommy and Buck from his point of view, seeing in his monologue as he refers to Tommy as 'this guy' or 'he'. Doesn't bother to clarify who he's talking about, and the impersonal reference alludes to how little Buck actually thinks of the guy up to that point (his real thoughts slipping through). The only time he refers to Tommy by name is when he's mentioning Eddie's basketball game to show where his distress falls.

"My point is he's made an impression in a very short time." Buck is so afraid of being replaced by some guy who happens to do something cool, he doesn't even realise how hypocrital it is for him to say certain things such as this one. Considering, as we all know, how quickly acquaintance Eddie and Buck became and how quick Christopher took a liking on him. It got me thinking about how Buck must've felt like he had to work for it (introducing Carla) to be let in, and how easy Tommy's got it. And that's when the thought of how easy he is to remplace starts to kick in, where the feelings start getting misplaced.

"Get this. He said he agreed Revenge of the Sith is superior to Return of the Jedi. I mean maybe it's just me butt I don't think you lie to a child just to ingratiate yourself." Once again he shows how worried he is about being replaced, specially in Christopher's life. Buck speaks like a protective mother. And once again we've got the indirect despectiva speech; Tommy isn't just Tommy he is some guy who is trying to make himself look cool to be liked and take his place.

I have to mention again the " But now he's going with Tommy, and he's got it circled." Because not only does Buck say it once, but twice during : " Eddie on his fridge has a day calendar. Under take-out menu Thursday,"B-B-P-U-W Backlash Tommy. And it's circled". "

It's always been about Eddie and how Buck feels that Tommy is taking his place. And then later when Tommy kisses him after he says he was trying to get his attention because yeah that makes sense because he can't possibly like Eddie romantically and so intensely. That is his best friend, his straight best friend at that. So he throws it at the nearest guy who is going to actually reciprocate–most likely. Its easier to convince himself to like Tommy, than it is to like Eddie and potentially ruin his friendship. (Let's not forget how even him being with Tommy later on was about Eddie and how he would react to Buck liking men.)

Back to Chim, there's also the scene when with Maddie they were discussing children right at the beggining of their relationships. They ask each other if they're the only people without kids that they know. It takes a second until they think of Buck. Because Buck is so integrated into the Diaz family, that it's impossible to think of him without Christopher tailing behind also.

Maddie and Chim absolutely know, or at least suspect about it.

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xiisblogs · 18 days ago

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Longing -The fall of the leaves and the dormancy of an apple

/ˈlɒŋɪŋ/

a yearning desire divider: author1 |Read this, or don't complain

Loving you is easy, it's leaving you that's hard. "Keep loving him." "Or don't." "It's your life" [AS]

🍎 ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍃

From: Non-MC

To: Caleb

I wonder if it's Autumn when you find this letter. I hope it is.

It's when apple trees transition to a period of dormancy and leaves fall. :)

When you find this letter, it means I'm gone from your life. Be past, present, or future.

I hope you're living the life you deserve. Perhaps fulfilled, or not.

You don't even remember me now. You must be wondering, who even is Non-MC.

I'm the person who cared and kissed your wounds.

I'm sorry for the lives we lead and kept leading until a (long) while ago.

I thrived in delusion, while you bathed in obsession.

With this, I, in no means, want you to remember me, or what we used to be. This is just a closure for something that should have never started.

So, I forgive you and myself for our past behaviors. May the weight on your shoulders lessen.

P.S go to the apple tree in your secret spot for a fading gift

🍎 ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍃

His brows furrow. This must be a prank.. but the postscrip at the bottom of the letter makes him think otherwise.

Nobody knows about the apple tree in his secret spot. Not even MC.. doubt creeps in him.

Something akin to a memory flashes in his head.

A person is talking as they puts the seeds of the apple tree in the soil, their voice blurry and the sounds around them even more.

'It's not possible', he put the seeds in there and no one was with him at that time..

A stinging sensation makes him dizzy. He'll go to the tree to find out, 'this must be a sick joke'..

🍎 ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍃

At the apple tree, in his secret spot, the blurry voice appears again, this time more clear.

"Don't squash the soil like that!"

"Greenie come on, nothing will happen", a stunned expression forms on his face, that's his voice, but younger.

The flashes are fast and too clear.

He sees himself and that person joke and have fun. Cry and hurt each other. So much, yet nothing he remembers happens in front of his eyes and by the end of it, Caleb's knees touch the ground and so his tears.

He tries to remember, who's that person and why are his memories so deeply altered. Was it because of the chip? No, it's impossible. He saved all the memories with the most important people in his life. Granny and MC. So, who is Non-MC.

"I hate you"

"and so do I"

"why would you chose her over me!?"

Silence fills his head. Why did they fight? What happened after that?

Ah, he remembers.

He chose MC over Non-MC again, then they fought and Non-MC swore to disappear from his life.

He didn't believe it, or, he chose to not believe your words. A mistake.

The memories blurr again and a sob leaves his mouth.

'no, no, no, NO', he didn't want to forget you again. Where were you?

As the question echos in his head, dizziness overtakes and his eyes shut.

🍎 ⊹ ࣪ ˖🍃

'why am I here', Caleb wonders as he slowly gets up, it's night.. he doesn't even remember walking here. Perhaps he just felt overwhelmed.

Some questions pop in his head..

But he shakes them off.

He gets up, his steps rigid as he walks away from the apple tree.

A name is engraved at the bottom of the tree. 'Non-MC was here ;)'

#xiis writes for lad #love and deepspace #lads #lads caleb #caleb love and deepspace #caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb x y/n #colonel caleb #caleb lads #love and deepspace x reader #lads angst #letters #caleb x non!mc reader

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zzineedsleepzz · 4 months ago

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TRANSFORMERS RESCUE BOTS INCORRECT QUOTES BECAUSE YES.

~~~

Heatwave:”Okay, I have a plan.”

Chase:”As long as we aren’t breaking any laws I’m happy to hear it.”

Heatwave:”…”

Chase:”…”

Heatwave:”…I no longer have a plan.”

~~~

Blades:” We’re going to have to split up, like in Scooby Doo.”

Blades, to Boulder and Heatwave:” You guys are Scooby and Shaggy. You can search the bathrooms.”

Blades, to Chase: ”Velma, you get the spooky looking fridge in the basement.”

Chase: “What? Why am I Velma? And why do I get the… dubious looking device?”

Blades: “Because only Velma would say “dubious device”.”

Heatwave: “And what does that make you, Fred?”

Blades: “Bitch, I’m Daphne.”

~~~

High tide:” Salvage, gather the others. We need to have another Blurr-is-doing-something-stupid-again-and-we-have-to-stop-him-before-he-hurts-someone convention.”

~~~

Chief burns and doc Greene standing outside Doc’s burning lab while the bots attempt to put it out:

Chief:”…you know, when you said you were going to make homemade “bath bombs”, I imagined a more wholesome version…”

~~~

Dani:”Well Blades, whenever I’m stuck on a discussion, I think “What would Kade do?”, then do the opposite.”

Blades:”…Isn’t that kinda mean?”

Kade, from the other room:”She’s not entirely wrong though-“

~~~

Kade:”It’s looking pretty muggy out today.”

Chief:”…”

Chief:”Kade, I swear, if I look outside and all of the mugs on on the lawn I’m disowning you..”

Kade”…*Sips coffee from bowl*”

~~~

Cody:”…You know, I’m starting to regret showing you how a blender works.”

Blades, drinking toast:”Why do you say that?”

~~~

Dr Baranova:”Is something burning?”

Doc Greene:”Just my love for you.”

Dr Baranova:”Ezra, the toasters on fire.”

~~~

Chief:”Has anyone seen Dani and Chase?”

Kade:”Oh yeah, they said they were going to hang out.”

Chief:”Hang out? Did they say what they were going to do?”

Kade:”Uh, oh yeah! They said they were going to try cooking.”

Chief:”…”

Kade:”…”

Kade, getting up:”Yeah, now that I’m hearing that out loud, I’m gonna go get heatwave-“

~~~

Chase:”You went out alone? At night? That’s a bit inappropriate.”

Blurr, slurring his words:”Your moms a bit inappropriate-“

Chase:”That doesn’t even make sense?”

Blurr, a bit more angry:”Your MOM doesn’t even make sense!”

Chase:”oh Primus, is he drunk!?”

Blurr, pissed for no reason:”YOUR MOMS DRUNK-“

~~~

Boulder, totally not guilty:”Hey, totally random question, but would you happen to know if there was a snake in the academy by any chance?

The recruits:”**incomprehensible screaming from the other room**”

Heatwave:”…I’m gonna go with yes.”

~~~

Comments under an image of a really hot knife cutting bread:

Blurr:”Imagine stabbing someone with this knife.”

Quickshadow:”It would instantly cauterize the wound, so the person wouldn't bleed, so it's not very useful.”

Hightide:”if you want information it is.”

Salvage:”why would you STAB a person when you can have TOAST?”

~~~

Heatwave:”Hey, what’s Blurr’s number?”

Blades:”Why? I thought you hated Blurr?”

Heatwave:”Oh I do, I just wanna know his number so whenever he calls I know to decline.”

~~~

THATS ALL I GOT SO BYEEE

#transformers rescue bots #rescue bots #rescue bots academy #transformers #mcaddams #don’t ask why blades is drinking toast when he doesn’t even eat #just don’t #I wrote these while sick #Blurr mentioned too much #i wanna do more #but like #when I don’t feel like my body is imploding in itself #Dani + chase + cooking = Hell #I’m too sick to keep writing tags

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valyrianvibranium · 1 year ago

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OBJECT OF DESIRE (4/4)

Aemond Targaryen x female!Reader

Are you just a political ploy to Aemond? Or is there more to him rushing your wedding?

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest, p in v, table sex, handjob, fingering, slight humiliation, praise kink, breeding kink, somewhat darkish and possessive Aemond (?), he might be an asshole and the king of gaslighting in this, Valyrian wedding, mentions of blood

WORDS: 5.5 K

NOTES: part 4 is finally here! Ty @zaldritzosrose 🤍

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭! ✨ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The way from the outer yard into the castle passes in a blurr with your heart thrumming in your chest, drowning out the sounds of your footsteps. It’s so deep in the night that the castle is mostly deserted, but a few guards and servants cross your path from time to time, some giving you a curious glance, others not bothering much.

Aemond’s movements are swift and quick as he guides you through the eerily silence of the castle of Dragonstone, leading you through a labyrinth of passageways that comes close to the one you’ve conquered not many hours before.

You try to marvel at the architecture of the ancient seat, but the dim light of sparsely placed torches and candles doesn’t allow you to indulge in it too much.

The man in front of you is determined, and your presence seems to be not more than an accessory to him with his attention fixed on something entirely different.

“Where do you take me?” your voice is low as you speak, the hesitance palpable.

Aemond chuckles. “Patience.” His voice is soft, but not low enough to whisper, and still manages to make you aware of how eager you probably have to sound. “We are nearly there.”

From what you gather, the chambers he brings you to are located deep within the bowels of the castle, requiring some time and knowledge of the place to reach it. You tackle another set of corridors and narrow staircases until you eventually arrive and stand in front of a thick, wooden door.

Knocking raptly at the door, it takes a few seconds for an older man to open it, woken from his slumber. When your eyes dart to the collar he wears, you grow aware that he led you to the maester’s study.

The man squints his eyes in the dim light, assessing who disturbs him at this hour. “Prince Aemond,” he eventually says, more surprised than matter-of-factly, and opens his door a little further. “How may I help you?”

“Maester Gerardys,” Aemond says, a firm tone underlying his words, despite keeping his voice at a low volume. “I require your assistance in officiating a marriage ceremony.”

Gerardys now gazes at the two of you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly and his brow furrowing as he realizes the unusual nature of the request. “You intend to wed?” he questions.

Nervousness flutters in your belly, more so as you process the skeptical tone laced within his voice, and you expect it all to fail miserably. But you didn’t count on Aemond’s stubbornness.

“Yes, I do,” he affirms, his determination not faltering at the maester’s tone and gaze. “My wife-to-be and I ask you to officiate a ceremony that should take place immediately… in the traditions of our House.”

“You mean to marry at this hour, my prince?” Gerardys questions. “Well, I am no septon, and a marriage ceremony is not something that you do just on a whim. There are certain rituals involved that have to be observed. I am afraid that I cannot simply officiate a wedding on demand just because the prince asks me to…”

You tug at Aemond’s hand, mumbling a ‘perhaps ‘tis not meant to be’ but he doesn’t even turn to look at you.

“I understand that, Maester Gerardys, I do. However, this matter is of utmost urgency. It has to be fulfilled tonight, as it can’t wait until daylight.” Aemond explains it calmly but assertively, his patience clearly running thin. There is a lilt of desperation in his voice, as if something bad will happen if the marriage ceremony is not performed at once. “We both wish for this to be done tonight. I am well-aware of the rituals involved in the tradition, and we are ready to complete them.”

It should concern you just how pressed he is on the matter, but all you can focus on is the fact that you will be a married woman in no less than two hours at last.

Gerardys seems to be torn by the prince’s request, his brow furrowing again as he thinks over the situation. This clearly is no usual business for him, yet he does not feel as though he can refuse Aemond who insists on seeing the ceremony performed immediately. “Very well, Prince Aemond,” the old man sighs, “I will see to the arrangements.”

Despite the maester’s agreement, Aemond doesn‘t release a sigh of relief. He stands as still and composed as before, although you can spot his shoulders drop slightly. “We shall meet in the Chamber of the Painted Table,” his voice remains firm and serious. “Do not let us wait for too long.”

You briefly hear Gerardys starting to scramble to gather the items necessary for the ceremony before you’re led back the same path you’ve come. Suddenly, it feels all too serious, and your belly starts to flutter, more so as Aemond squeezes your hand.

“I-I am not aware of the rituals involved?” you question, looking at the ground to watch your steps.

As he notices the nervousness in your voice, Aemond turns around and smiles in a reassuring manner, his eye twinkling. “There is nothing to be concerned about,” he says. “I assume you are confident in the tongue of our ancestors?”

You almost bump into him as he stops so abruptly, craning your neck to meet his eye. “I-yes, probably not as confident as you are, but my scholar has taught me everything within his capabilities.”

“Very well. I shall tell you what to do, but you must trust me, my lady.”

“Very well,” you echo his words, accompanied by a gulp. As you set up towards the spacious and opulent Chamber of the Painted Table, the room is dimly lit by several torches and candles. Servants scurry around the place, more than you’ve seen on your whole way through the dark pathways, and seem to take care of everything around you.

Aemond’s steps bounce off the wall as he approaches a servant, and the ‘see to the table’ he commands is hardly audible to you.

You walk around the chamber, taking in the decor, and drag your fingers over the large table standing in the center of it, following its carvings. The shadows of carved mountains and rivers dance in the dim light of the few candles standing on it, capturing all your attention. You marvel at the intricate design, but are quick to pull your fingers away when it suddenly lits up, the carvings glowing like lava running through molten rock.

With wide eyes, you look towards the head of the table, and spot Aemond standing there with a smirk on his lips as servants emerge from under it. He leans against it with one hand splayed out on its surface, indicating that there’s no threatening heat radiating off of it. And indeed, when your fingers trail over the Vale of Arryn, you don’t burn them.

“Are you sure this all is not going a little too fast? That we should not wait just a few more days?” you eventually ask, your doubts knocking the smirk right off of his face.

Aemond walks around the table, coming closer to you, but keeps a fair distance. “There is no need to wait,” he retorts. “I see no reason to drag this out, unless you want to wed one of the men ordered by your father?”

You flinch at his words, remembering the queue of men presented to you by your father. A few moments pass as you hesitantly raise your head, locking your eyes with Aemond’s good one. “Do you wish that I did?”

“No,” he replies, sternness lingering in his voice. “I do not wish that at all. I wish for the privilege of having you all to myself.”

While his words cause the hairs on the back of your neck to stand, a shiver following in their wake, you can’t suppress the doubts. ”Then why hurry?”

“Why wait?” Aemond retorts. "I have helped you obtain your dragon, your bloodright, and now it is your turn to see through on the promise made."

"Am I a political ploy and nothing else?"

His expression darkens with your words. For the first time, the veneer of his composure and politeness towards you begins to slip slightly, his patience running thin. “I did not say that.”

Not giving him a reply, your eyes dart down to the table. You know you’re getting too bold, that you should not have said it, but you can’t help but feel as though the marriage being rushed is simply another political gambit. As your eyes flicker back up to meet his, a faint twinkle of anger and fire can be seen within them. “Do not pretend as though you are not getting anything out of this.”

“Now why are you so concerned with what I am getting out of this?” Aemond asks bluntly, voice as sharp as the edge of a knife. “Do you not trust my intentions? Or is it that you are not happy with the arrangements seeing that you’ve finally got your dragon?”

The change of tone prompts you to take a step back from him, a faint pout appearing on your lips as you feel your anger and defiance slipping away, replaced by a certain amount of apprehension.

“Please, do not misunderstand me,” you say swiftly, softening your tone and lowering your voice to calm the situation. “I simply… I feel a little unsure of rushing into this. It is only… I have heard many tales, both from court and from my own father. Men are not known to be the most trustworthy, and I have no idea what to make out of someone so eager to wed me when I do not know his thoughts behind it.”

"You silly girl, do you not yet understand your role goes beyond the political agenda of the seven realms?" He reaches to grab you, holding your attention. "It goes beyond what your father or my father says. The gods made you for me, you have always been fated for me and me alone."

Your heart feels as though it might leap from your chest at his words. You’ve never been looked at the way he does now, never been treated that way. Your nerves and anxiety don’t vanish completely, but a part of you starts to calm down; he easily manages to put you at ease with just a few words.

You lower your head, melting under his touch and words. “I–That is…” you trail off.

The footsteps of Maester Gerardys approaching fill the large chamber, catching you off guard and causing you to pull away from Aemond. He’s unfazed, despite Gerardys staring at you and taking in the scene.

Clearing his throat, he steps further into the chamber, carrying a great deal of utensils with him. “We shall commence, then?”

Aemond’s shoulders drop slightly with relief as the maester finally joins you. “By the blessings of the Gods, we shall indeed,” he says, walking around the table to the end that faces the hearth. You follow silently, and watch the older man prepare everything.

“You stay here,” Aemond barks at two servants just shy of your age as they make their way towards the door. “We shall need every witness to our union we can get.” Both women nod their heads once, and stand rooted to the spot.

Turning around, Aemond faces you now with Gerardys standing in front of the pair of you. The maester smiles warmly, albeit it also seems a bit forced, and glances at you as he begins with the most important question of it all. “Do you two come to this union free and willing, without prior coercion or undue influence?”

While Aemond’s answer comes quick and determined, a brief moment of silence passes as you process the question. “Yes, I do,” you speak softly yet hesitant.

Maester Gerardys nods silently at both your confirmations, and hands Aemond what appears to be a shard of dragonglass. Your eyes widen when he brings it up to your lips, and the ‘let me just…’ he mumbles is little comfort as the sharp knife pierces your lip. You wince at the stinging pain and taste of copper that soon fills your mouth, clearly coming with the cut, but a part of you is grateful he’s done it without so much preparation.

“Now ‘tis your turn,” he says, handing you the shard. You briefly glance down to where your hands meet, before your gaze is fixed with his again.

The shard is lighter than anticipated, which makes the trembling of your hands more apparent. You’re skilled with a bow and arrow, but have yet to hurt anyone seriously. Bringing the shard up to Aemond’s mouth, the tremors don’t ease with you dragging it over his bottom lip.

Blood amasses at the cut, and you mirror his gesture as he gathers yours with the pad of his thumb. The touch is so intimate, heat crawls up your spine, making you almost miss out on his next instructions. “I shall draw the glyph for blood over your forehead, and you do the same with the one for fire. Are you familiar with how to draw it?”

You nod. It’s one of the few glyphs you’re more than familiar with as Maester Lomys has always insisted for you to learn how to spell your House’s words; even though you’re only half Targaryen.

Aemond uses your blood to draw said glyph on your forehead, and you’re quick to follow his instructions with the supplementary glyph.

But that moment of peace doesn’t last long, not when Aemond takes the shard from your hand to cut the palm of his own without any sign of pain or discomfort to cross his features.

You have hurt yourself plenty of times before, merely counting how often you fell off your horses as you learnt how to ride, but it has rarely happened on purpose and most definitely not with something as sharp as the dragonglass. And that is the moment you find yourself unable to move, unable to take it from his hand.

“The pain disappears quickly,” Aemond tries to reassure you, sensing your hesitation; a stark contrast to how stern and annoyed he was mere moments ago.

The coldness of the fragment nestles into your open palm as he places it into it, and Aemond bows his head once in a way to encourage you.

His words bring you not much comfort, but the prospect of your future does. You have claimed a dragon, you’re meant to be the future Lady of Runestone and close to be married to the man that’s riding the largest dragon alive; there’s no place for you to think of the things that could possibly cause your downfall.

A deep breath is exhaled the moment the dragonglass pierces the palm of your hand, opening your skin with a clean cut. The pain is delayed, and for a brief moment all that clouds your mind is the rush of your warm blood, and the sight of it so quickly filling the hollow of your palm.

“Hen lantoti… ānogar,” Maester Gerardys cites, a thick accent and hesitance weaving itself through the otherwise smooth tongue. It makes it difficult for you to fully understand what’s being said. “Va s ȳndroti v āedroma.” Blood of two, joined as one.

As Aemond unites your hands in a firm grip, you tilt your head up to look at him, taking him in wholly as the worst part has passed. You don’t dare to break the intense eye contact to look at where your hands meet.

The sensation of your blood trickling out of the cut has already been very adamant, but with Aemond’s blood combined, several droplets all but seep out from your joined hands, gathered in a goblet he holds underneath.

Aemond squeezes your hand gently as the maester ties a red ribbon around them, binding you to one another and sealing the pact.

“Mēro perzot g īhoti, el ēdroma iārza s īr. Izulī amp ā perzī, pr ūm ī lanti s ēteksi,” Gerardys mumbles in the background, but your attention is captured by Aemond bringing the goblet full of your blood up to his lips. Ghostly flame, and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires.

He does not hesitate one moment and takes a generous sip of the goblet, crimson tinting his chiseled lips as he lowers it again and hands it to you. You capture it between your fingers, raising it to your lips and following suit. The very adamant taste of copper lingers on your tongue, and it’s hard to swallow without grimacing. A smirk tugs on the corners of Aemond’s lips at that, making you blush and mouthing ‘my apologies’ at him.

Although the goblet is lowered by you, you two do not move otherwise. There’s a thick tension between you, fueled by you gazing longingly into each other's eyes. Neither of you smiles or grins, just taking in the moment and its significance.

“Hen jenȳ māz īlarion, q ēlossa oz ūndesi.” A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness.

Both of Aemond’s hands come up to cup your face, the pad of his thumb dragging gently over your nicked bottom lip. You stare at him with wide eyes and heavy breaths falling past your parted lips, every fiber of your body filled with heat that makes the waiting unbearable. And with his hands holding you, you can’t even bring your face even closer to his.

“S ȳndroro ōñō jēdo, rȳk k īvia mazvestraksi.” The vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.

Time stretches on as Aemond slowly dips his head toward yours, finally, holding it firmly in place as his lips collide with yours. The taste of blood on your tongues and lips doesn’t seem to subside at all, very much prominent and bringing a certain tint to it all. There is no gentleness in this kiss, the passion underlined by hunger and longing for more.

Maester Gerardys clears his throat and inevitably catches your attention again, causing you to pull back from each other. “The marriage is now complete,” he states matter-of-factly. “If you’ll excuse me now, Prince Aemond,” he bows his head once before turning to you. “Princess. I shall retire to my chambers once more.”

“You may leave, too,” Aemond commands the servants, who quickly make a beeline for the doors. Watching the master depart after that, a faint sense of relief washes over the both of you.

As soon as the doors shut behind him, Aemond’s eye flickers back to yours. He steps toward you, closing the distance between you until you can feel the warmth of his breath fan over your skin. “Well now, little princess,” he teases. “Are you familiar with the privileges a husband expects from his wife?”

The blood rushes to your face as you realize what he implies, your heart starting to beat faster, though you cannot deny that it has piqued your interest. Your face remains neutral, however. “Oh, what are they?” you ask, deciding upon acting more innocent than you truly are just to mess with him.

Aemond’s lips quirk up into a slight smirk as he notices your feigned innocence. It’s obvious that you’re aware of the true nature of a marriage, but he decides upon playing this game, at least for just a bit longer. “There are many,” he says teasingly, bringing his hand to the small of your back to draw your body closer to his. “And I am certain that you’re well aware of what some of those expectations might be.”

“Hm… some,” you whisper in reply, your tone getting flustered. A smile tugs at your lips as you try to hide the growing excitement his proximity is causing inside of you.

He’s amused by you trying to act as though you’re not tempted, as though you both don‘t desire the same thing. “Shall I tell you or show you?”

You try to keep your composure at his words, but it’s obvious they are starting to have an effect on you. “Show me,” you whisper, the words slipping out between your trembling lips.

While one of his hands comes up to rest at the back of your neck, the other grazes over your side down to grasp at your hip, and your body melts into his touch as his lips find yours once again. The tip of his nose presses against your cheek as you tilt your head in response to his tongue dragging over the curve of your lips, silently asking you to part them for him. And you do, prompting him to deepen the kiss.

Aemond deliberately backs you up against the Painted Table, its edge pressing firmly against your rear, and splays his hand over the small of your back. He gives you no chance to escape his lips to catch your breath; when you pull away, his lips chase yours, eager to capture them again.

A spark of something familiar ignites in the pit of your belly, something that has you pulling back just slightly to gasp against his kiss-swollen lips. You were so lost in the kiss, that you haven’t paid any mind to him herding you like a sheep, keening at the proximity and attention.

But Aemond doesn’t stop at that.

The laces of your breeches are undone swiftly by him merely using one hand, clearly experienced with it being his everyday attire. He pushes the thick fabric and your undergarments down to pool around your knees, exposing your soaked cunt to the chill air of the chamber.

You, however, don’t give his fingers time to drag through your swollen folds. Catching him off guard and coaxing a grunt to escape his throat, your hand trails over the hardness in the front of his breeches, cupping it over the fabric and squeezing it slightly, before your fingers unravel the laces just as skilled as his did yours before.

You can tell by the way he finally breaks the kiss as your hand slips inside of his breeches, wrapping around his hard, throbbing cock, that he’s taken by surprise. He instinctively bucks his hips against your hand, and releases a gasp as the cold air hits him with you freeing his length from its confines, pulling it out and stroking it deliberately slowly.

Aemond’s fingers dig into your hip as a means to steady himself, a breathy ‘fuck’ spilling past his lips.

“Is this one of these… privileges?” you tease, although it’s more of a whine with two of his nimble fingers easing into your cunt without a warning, pumping in and out of you in the rhythm of your hand tugging on him. It encourages you to move your hand quicker along his shaft in hopes of him doing the same, but when that doesn’t happen, you start rocking your hips against his hand to which he just tsks in disapproval.

His lips find the side of your neck, and you’re quick to tilt your head to the side to grant him even more access. When his hot breath fans over your skin as he speaks, words laced thickly with arousal, a shiver runs through you. “It certainly is,” he groans. There’s a wry smile on his lips as he pulls back, meeting your half-lidded gaze. “But that is not all.”

The implication of his words causes your heartbeat to quicken, your walls tightening around his fingers in response. He draws in a sharp breath at that. “And… what else is there?” you ask, breathily. “Are you just talking or will you show me?”

“My my, what an eager, little wife I got myself here,” he taunts with a scoff, bucking his hips into your hand once. Your cheeks lit up at his words and the tone of his voice, but there’s no chance for you to cower under his piercing gaze when he peels your hand off of him and turns you around; his patience seemingly not infinite.

He pushes you flatly onto the table, the warmth radiating off of it seeping into your cheek. Towering over you with one hand buried in your hair, the length of his hard cock presses into the crevice of your arse and makes you whimper; your body aching for more. “Are you not satisfied with what I’ve shown you so far?” he mocks, his slick coated fingers trailing over your hip.

Pushing your lips into a pout, you try to catch a glimpse of him from over your shoulder, but not without shoving your hips back against him to rile him up even more. “I just… I just wish to indulge in what my husband has to offer,” you whimper. Using that term of endearment feels unfamiliar, yet it just manages to spark more desire inside of you.

“Oh, is that so?” he drawls. “What luck that it’s an option which lies open to you.”

He rises back to his full height, and grabs both of your hands to pin them behind your back, locking the wrists with one of his large hand and rendering you immobile. There’s no need for him to tug himself to full hardness, as just the sight of your cunt slick with your arousal is enough to get him rock hard.

“That perfect cunt of yours is weeping for me.” You don’t have to look at him to see the smirk draped across his lips, the smugness very much prominent in the raspy drawl of his voice.

Aligning the tip with your entrance, he’s met with little resistance, your soaked and swollen folds embracing him in one, swift thrust that knocks the air from your lungs. You moan in unison at the intrusion, your walls fluttering and clenching around him to fully accommodate his size.

He pulls out of you almost completely with merely the tip of his cock remaining buried inside, the lack of his fullness already driving you insane. With his hand around your wrists, he proceeds to pull you back onto his cock while he thrusts his hips forward, meeting you halfway and resulting in his heavy balls slapping against your sensitive pearl.

He pounds into you with reckless abandon in the following, the tip of his cock brushing the spot inside of you that has your vision grow blurry over and over again.

With your face pressed against the table, you aren’t able to spot the desire blazing in his eye. The only thing that makes you aware of the excitement he finds in your unison is the tone of his husky voice. “When I am done with you,” he rasps, bowing forward to put more of his weight onto your small frame beneath his. “You will never desire another cock but mine.”

Being in a stupor because of his cock, you’re not able to whine and whimper more than a string of yesses, the last one interrupted with a hard, percussive thrust. Then follows another, and another, until you can’t focus on anything else but the delicious pressure inside your cunt.

You push your hips back against him, and he rears up to pull you back with each of his thrusts, meeting him halfway which results in the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin bouncing off the walls.

The ‘gods’ he mumbles is hardly audible over both your moans and pants, but still doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You find it extremely pleasing to know that you’re able to coax him out of his composure more easily than you’ve first assumed; the highest praise he could ever give you.

With one hand on your hip, he hoists you further onto the table, your feet leaving the cold ground beneath and dangling in the air. The edge of the table cuts into your hips in a way that slowly but surely becomes uncomfortable with the force of his thrusts, but it also ruts so perfectly against your pearl each time; juxtaposing pain and pleasure, making your mind hazy and your body go limp.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly your peak builds in the pit of your stomach with the right stimulation, taking over your body and rippling through you with soaring pleasure.

Each time the sac of his stones slaps your little bud, your body tries to jerk away from him – but to no avail with your hands still pinned behind your back. Your body trembles in his grasp, and the tremors grow more and more apparent with each second he doesn’t pull out of you, prolonging your peak.

“I shall breed you until you’re round with my seed,” Aemond rambles behind you, his own mind scrambling from pleasure. “To show everyone that you’re mine.”

“S-Seven hells, yes!” It’s the overstimulation making yourself more desperate for his release, begging for his seed. “Please, please… please.”

Your walls tremble around him, choking him so tightly your husband has to take a deep breath to keep his composure. But all effort is fruitless when his pulsing cock spends itself inside of your quivering walls. His grunts and groans fan into the chilly air of the chamber, and you’d love nothing more than to feel them fanning over your lips instead.

Out of instinct, you start to roll your hips against his, prolonging his own peak as you milk him for every drop of his seed. Aemond is out of breath by the time his movements come to a stop, staying buried inside of you as if he means to make sure his efforts bear fruit after the first try. And you relish in it, despite the vulnerable position it brings you in.

Releasing your wrists, his hands proceed to grope at your arse while he considers your trembling, satisfied frame. He can’t help but feel somewhat proud of himself.

Being the first one to break the silence, you flush as you hear his raspy voice ring out. “Well, I see you were certainly eager to engage in those privileges,” he says, his voice laced with mischief. “Very eager.”

You chuckle softly, and when you move to push yourself off the table, Aemond takes that as his cue to pull out of you. Marveling at the sight of his seed slowly oozing out of your swollen cunt, he’s quick to stuff it back inside using his thumb. The gesture brings another wave of heat to your cheeks, more so when you feel his chest press flush against your back and the warmth radiating off of him with his finger still inside of you.

Taking in a deep breath, you hold onto the table for support. “You certainly did not waste any time in… indulging either,” you reply. Not just your body is trembling with the after-effects of your intimacy, but also your voice still shakes.

With a chuckle, Aemond dips his head down and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “We only have a few more hours before our absence is called into question by the court. We must return promptly.”

Your husband is the one fixing your attire, pulling up your smallclothes and breeches before he tugs himself back into his own. And it makes you well aware that the semblance of calm and freedom is very much over now. “They will realize where we have been anyways once they see me arriving on dragon back,” you counter with a pout on your lips. Perhaps that would coax him into staying just a little longer.

He brings his hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging on your bottom lip to free it from its position. “Yes, they may very well come to such a conclusion, but at least we shall preserve some of our dignity if we do return after a reasonable time. The last thing we need now is the whole court speculating on our whereabouts. It is already scandalous enough as it is.”

At his words, you let out a soft, grumbled noise of frustration, although you can’t deny that he has a point. “And what do we do then? We cannot just return to court and pretend as if nothing has happened.”

“No, I suppose not,” he replies. “We shall confront our fathers.”

Though you know your own father won’t take kindly to the news, you’re certain that your uncle won’t bat an eye upon hearing of it. Still, your demeanor shifts at hearing the notion that you’ll be facing your father, your eyes flickering with a hint of worry. “That will be just as bad as not returning to court at all.”

Truth is, you haven’t spent a second thinking of the consequences, always pushing the thoughts aside for a later time. And with that time being now, a tiny amount of sweat appears at the back of your neck.

“It won’t,” Aemond says firmly, his tone taking over a sudden sharpness. “At least then we shall be the ones defining our own fate. They will have no chance than to listen to us, rather than making an assumption based on hearsay.”

You exhale a deep breath. “Back to King’s Landing, then.”

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felixdragonheartofficial · 1 year ago

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TFA TEAM PRIME HUMAN REDESIGNS FINALLY

FUCK

+headcannons

Optimus: gotta stay focused

looks too old compared to his bot form.

I find it impossible for Optimus to be more than a million years old in this canon. In the least, he's older than 1000 years and since we have mfs that are canonically over 70 million years old(fagatron iykyk) compared to that, he feels like a dude in his early-to-mid-30's being the group parent.

---

-I made him more youthful, gave him curly hair, and tailored his clothing to actually look like his bot form.

-workaholic

-on the cusp of barley being able to hold his liquor

-doesn't own a pair of pajamas until Sari gets some for him

-usually forgets to put them on, but appreciates the gesture

-stays active for like, 3 days until he can't fight off sleep with work brain anymore, and unceremoniously passes out on the couch to sleep for a full 24 hours

-ratchet sighs and puts a blanket over him as per routine

-frequently checks security feed

-elf on the shelf despiser

-early morning talks with jazz and ratchet over coffee (they all wake up at 6 am)

-half thrives on caffeine and a vigorous training protocol

-is a dog person, loves German shepherds to death

David sama, pls forgive me ily very much

Ratchet: to old for this nonsense

doesn't match his body type in the slightest.

Ratchet is really old, he's got a sallow face and a gramp gut, how dare they square him. He's wayyy too angular and peachy looking.

-I gave him his luscious curves back, adding all the equipment id expect a field medic to have because he is a field medic, not a regular doctor. I changed his facial proportions, and also made his face gaunt, for that dead inside PTSD look.

---

-drinks his coffee black with brown sugar, literally drinks it piping hot

-is one of those old people who complains about noise

-confiscates bumblebee and Sari's toy cars, and puts them in a high up cabinet

-neither of them know how to bypass the child safety lock lmao

-casual clothes includes a lot- a l o t of plaid shirts, and 10 pairs of the same blue jeans

-tunes out bulkhead and prowls convos about birdwatching

-big fan of political satire dramas

-Sentinel doesn't approve

-Ratchet doesn't give a rats ass about what he thinks of course

Bumblebee: professional smart-ass

doesn't match his body type/age.

Bumblebees holoform is presented as a 10-12 year old child specifically for the fact that he's short, and the comedic relief. Total ass

I set his human age as 19-20 years old, making him more of a big brother to sari because that og model is disappointingly lackluster

---

-Bumblebee is a scrappy wisecracking punk, like an adhd kid who just got roller skates for Christmas.

-since he doesn't have wheels, I feel like he'd wear skates instead to emulate the feeling

-terrible at watching where he's going cuz he's too busy trying to show off, so ratchet makes him wear all that padding + training wheels

-legit despises the padding and training wheels

-Jealous of Blurr for mastering roller blades lmao.

-his favorite games are choose your fighter and fps

-saw ONE ancient ass assassins creed playthrough and begged ratchet to install hidden tasers in his arm bands (was denied)

-Sari used her key to do it instead

-self appointed "rizzler"

-Optimus has zero idea of what that means and thinks it's code for something dubious

-Ratchet knows what it means and thinks it's silly

-"I' was something of a rizzler myself back in my day, kid"

-bumblebee cringes

-loves summer and swimming

-wants to be the fastest thing in the sea because y'know, it's bumblebee

-is spooked from the beach for awhile cuz he saw sharks in Prowls nature documentary

-there are infact, no sharks in lake Erie

Bulkhead: big guy, bigger heart

doesn't match his body type/aspirations.

Jesus fuck he's so wide?? And his belly migrated to his shoulders?? I'm gonna be honest, I really hate this design. I feel like it contributed to the "brute strength = stupid" take that most in the fandom associates with him.

---

-Bulkhead is a SWEET. CARING. NERD YOU FOOLS. He's like the male version of a tall goth gf-

-a tall-nerdy-farm hand-physics bf, You got me fucked up.

-Its already shown that bulkhead really likes art in Addition to creating it. He hates being only seen as the "muscle" so it wouldn't make sense for him to lean into that.

-bunny slippers that him and sari made together(she provided the buttons)

-the slippers go missing sometimes (basically considered community property unless he's wearing them)

(ratchet and prowl are the main offenders)

-frequent art museum goer

-really likes watching cooking shows, but is too shy to make food himself

-Owns a ton of star maps

-Really wants a treehouse that he, bumblebee and sari can hang out in

-pillowfort enjoyer

-casually reads quantum physics at the beach

Prowl: draft dodger

Doesn't look like him at all.

Prowls holoform being a mustachioed,white, police officer was an actual jumpscare for 7 y/o me, I kid you not

---

- I know this bitch would not wear a helmet (you can't force him to) que windswept hair

-Not as much as starscreams, for obvious reasons but yk

-prowl is like one of those "shoes are a prison for your feet"

-emo hipster

-has a pet cactus named "planty"

-bumblebee heckles him for it

-can and has brought his cactus with him on early evening motorcycle rides

-the helmet is reserved for his cactus, bring your own >:(

-salad consumer

-him and jazz share custody of the cactus

-repeat victim of the cat distribution system

-ratchet has probably spent hours telling him they can't keep any animals at base

-frequent midnight picnics with jazz

-and beachcombing

-and roaming around antique stores cuz jazz wants to know what vinyl records are

-got a mug with an attempted pink chibi cat with big round shiny eyes painted onto it, courtesy of bulkhead trying to find an artsyle

-cherishes this mug to death

-has a shrine dedicated to it

#tfa #decepticons #autobots #tfa headcanons #tfa optimus prime #tfa bulkhead #tfa bumblebee #tfa ratchet #tfa prowl #AUUUUUUGH #im gonna have a pole #optimus prime #bumblebee #bulkhead #prowl #ratchet #tfa sari #sari sumdac #sari mention

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saltynsassy31 · 4 months ago

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Fanart for @cosmique-oddity

Whale Shark Blurr

I had been meaning to draw for this au for a bit, ever since I saw the design simply because it was SO GORGEOUS I HAD TO I JUST HAD TO

I wanted to make a fully rendered fanart but I just knew it would never happen with how slow I am 😔 (some day maybe tho, I love drawing mermaids)

#Man #yall don't get it #I'm so bored but I absolutely keep avoiding on drawing Ratchet for my au that I started a completely different drawing fjsjakka #I honestly just wanted to doodle anything #(this took me only an hour to make but usually it takes me anything around 2-5 hours to get anything done lol)#me avoiding my responsibilities like my life depends on it XD #my art #saltys art #transformers #transformers au #maccadam #WS blurr #blurr

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north-peach · 4 months ago

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hello transformers hyperfixation, it's been awhile.

Okay, so some of y'all with me at the devil's sacrament, specially follow me for the transformers stuff.

i am so sorry to yall cause i've been dancing with pretty much every single other hyper fixation beyond that, so this one's for y'all!

Mecha Pilot!Jazz AU! Specifically, the one by @keferon

yall

this is now gonna be a significant part of my personality, cause it has me in a chokehold. I have read every single one of the 46 fics on ao3 and spent twelve hours combing through tumblr so BUCKLE IN.

For fic-ish headcanons and brainstorming ideas because this ain't a fic.....yet.

MechaPilot!Jazz, who is first generation and has done so well with a mecha, barely any body-dysmorphia due to the transition from small, quishy human to giant metal being with- while similar- different anatomy.

He's good. He's so good.

He alive too, which is a pro in this project considering what i imagine has led to a considerable body count, especially if you factor in a drift aspect of the mech.

getting your body to withstand the movement, your brain to operate a very large machine to combat efficiency, dealing with either being hooked into systems so hard you feel the pain, or don't, but you still remember the way it felt when you were stabbed, only to walk around after mission's end like nothing happened.

Jazz lives and breathes in this mech and his superiors are pleased.

However, this means that Jazz gets the experimental tech. He gets the new gadgets, the customized weapons, gear, he gets special treatment.

This, in part, is both good and bad.

The freedom Jazz gets is great. He gets his mods, his music and for starting out as an orphan without any documented education, that's pretty great for him.

On the other hand, the constant supervision at base, the medical exams, the doctors, the politicians- regardless of the paycheck, of the food, equipment, Jazz hates that the cons are so negative, but the pros really do make up for it.

His mecha is his baby.

However, all good things must come to an end. Just like Viktor was consumed by Vortex (and haunting the narrative just as surely as he was the mecha), just like Ratchet reached his limit with all the dead bodies piling up, just like how Blurr's death meant the end of Shockwave's life, just like- well.

With the ever-increasing numbers of dead, if not missing people, with the alien invasion of Earth in a precarious balance of giving and gaining ground.

Something had to be done.

Jazz had always known- the longer he'd survived, that he thrived, the more he became one with his mecha, the more he excelled, and surpassed expectations- it was always going to be him. He was the best the program had to offer, after all.

With the increased number of brass walking through the base, with the extended hours in the medical halls, with the bigger and better technology that was integrating into his baby and how Jazz's own body was made better, well.

It was only a matter of time.

He's told the program is expanding to space.

He's told it'll be him to lead the way.

An outpost on one of the moons or asteroids in the solar system.

A mecha program, beyond the confines of their own planet.

Jazz cannot refuse.

So he does as he does best.

He puts on a smile, jams out his tunes and does his absolute best to make sure First Aid knows he's the squirreliest nerd he's had the pleasure of meeting. Even if he is a bit too engrossed with the alien's anatomy in all it's gooey and tentacled glory.

Ratchet gets a phone call, some good old-fashioned teasing on his secret boyfriend he still hasn't met and a promise to drop by for a visit. One he hopes he can keep.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe get smuggled out of the base to street race in fast cars at fast speeds and Jazz makes sure their asses are covered so they don't get caught.

Hot Rod gets Jazz's old comics, Wheeljack gets the confiscated "illegal" contraband Jazz can smuggle out (the more flammable, the better), Onslaught gets locked in a closet with Blast Off, Nightbird gets a human-size set of ninja weapons that brings a smile to his usually blank face, Swindle gets a pair of fluffy dice and Brawl is presented with a new pair of boxing gloves.

Jazz bargains for Cosmos to be brought down from his lonely space station for a week of down time, and sics Red Alert on him because Cosmos needs friends beyond Jazz and Red Alert needs someone who can keep up with him.

As Cosmos once said, nothing better to do in space then to imagine all the ways everything could go wrong.

Jazz has high hopes for the two of them.

He also takes the time to go visit Blaster, bent over his workbench as he works on his smaller, deployable drone mechas.

Eject and Rewind are powered down on their recharge pads while Steeljaw remains in several pieces, his mechanical paws carefully laid out and disassembled.

Jazz pokes around, suggests some cool feature Blaster's new project could have, such as a rhinoceros base form, because the man's already got a lion, amirite?

A dozen mecha pilots. Thirteen if you count Vortex and First Aid as two.

Expansion into space means expansion of the mecha program. Jazz isn't sure how to feel about that, but regardless longer missions in his baby can excuse a lot of unpleasantry. Especially in the name of preventing the amount of mass casualties and reshaping of landmass on the planet they're currently trying to live on.

Still, a custom shuttle, more spaceship designed for his baby then himself, an AI as a pilot, five years of supplies and material and equipment, all double checked and tripled checked is a whole lot of freedom for one guy.

The aliens deciding the moment Jazz's ship- the one he affectionately calls Cowboy Bebop- is set to launch on his first official mission to cause a mess is pretty much par for the core.

Cosmos coming in clutch, leaving Red Alert behind on his space station to assist Jazz's mission give him just enough time to send confirmation and data back to base that the aliens are entering their solar system via a giant space door.

One that Jazz falls through, riding the wave of destruction from the ships that were attempting to enter their solar system and he thanks anything or anyone that is listening that his Bebop makes it through safely, his own fragile body protected by his mecha.

Landing covertly as possible on an alien planet God knows how far from Earth is probably the most exciting and nerve-wracking thing he's done in the last decade.

Which is saying something, considering the life Jazz lives.

In the end, Jazz will label this is the best day in his entire life, all thirty two years of it, including the last eleven years of piloting his baby through all her ups and down and close calls.

You see, this day, which has led to him being launched to God knows where in the vast, unmapped corners of the universe, to another devastated planet that Jazz has no idea is even in the same galaxy, has a native people he needs- maybe?- to avoid, has a bug problem-

Had a bug investation, oh God if this is what defeat looks like Jazz can't even begin to argue with Shockwave's increasing demands and general creepiness.

Jazz is stuck and on his own, at least, until he meets Prowl.

Prowl changes everything.

Because you see- not that Jazz noticed for a good solid bit of time there- Prowl is not a human. Not only is Prowl not a human, he is NOT a pilot in a mech suit, PROWL is a MECHANICAL LIFEFORM from a MECHANICAL PLANET.

Jazz is going to forgive himself the amount of time it took for him to notice.

In hindsight, a mecha being that pretty? That expressive? The different between the two of them? Jazz should of noticed, but considering the day he's had, a bit of leeway is the least of what he deserves.

Outrunning, outmaneuvering and outsmarting the aliens- Quintessons?- to get Prowl's damaged form onboard Bebop and away to somewhere not crawling with bugs is going up there, straight up to top three moments Jazz can't believe his bullshit worked, right next to an impromptu team up with Vortex, when First Aid was definitely passed out in the pilot's seat.

(Jazz knows how Viktor piloted that mecha, very little has changed since he became Vortex)

Jazz being given directions, a translation data thing, and safe harbor with others, just like Prowl was not in the playbook but he's flying by the seat of his pants here and honestly? Since no one knows where Earth is, he can't get back and it's not like the Quintessons aren't pulling their special brand of bullshit on them as well.

So he helps out.

To the amazement, horror and confusion of everyone around him because oh, yeah.

Jazz hasn't told anyone he's a squishy, operating a shell.

Exactly like their stories of a specific boogeyman.

Nightmare fuel for their entire race.

...

He debates on telling Prowl, sometimes.

When the mech seeks him out, when he gets him to blush when Jazz teases him. When he gets in over his head and can't deny he's fallen head over heels for the second alien Jazz has ever met.

His luck is gonna run out one day.

With the weird truce and meshing of both Autobot and Decepticon troops, he can only hope- or dread- it'll be Prowl. An Autobot over a Decepticon.

Still, Jazz knows he's exactly the kinda guy to push his luck, to get a mile outta that inch he's been given and he ain't about to stop now, no matter how guilty he feels.

#blurble #transformers #mecha pilot jazz au #jazz/prowl #might fic it #brainstorming #headcanon #jazz #prowl

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