#libraries transform

[starscream-is-my-wife]

LL Megatron gets transported to the G1 cartoon (pre movie) guns don't kill anyone, everyone is more focused on their one liners then battle, wizards are real, days dont mean anything, what a silly universe

Edit: Comic based on this idea here

[i-dreamed-i-had-a-son]

So I'm fully in a Transformers Prime binge rewatch and holy SMOKES I did not remember how gay this show was. Like obviously Starscream is twinktown central and Knockout is very flamboyant, yes--but Megatron is so obsessed with Optimus (and vice versa) it's not even funny! Here's a compilation of the best moments from *just the first half of S1*:

Megatron returns after who knows how long and one of the first things out of his mouth is "No one rids me of Optimus Prime except me!!"

Megatron "dies" and Optimus is immediately depressed to the point where Ratchet asks about it and unlocks Sad Reminiscing

The Autobots are trying to figure out what the Decepticons are up to and Optimus starts with "Starscream is no Megatron, but--" just say you miss him

Megatron is literally comatose and his coma dream is him and Optimus fighting over and over again. Optimus just keeps respawning. Bro is LITERALLY living in his head rent free

In fact when Bumblebee gets inside Megatron's head Optimus is literally the First Thing he sees

Why is Bee in there? Because Optimus is deathly sick! And one of the only things that rouses Optimus from his nearly catatonic state? Learning Megatron is alive!

Megatron is also the only one who has the knowledge to save him so now they're both on their deathbeds together and their fates are linked etc. etc.

Bumblebee gets the info he needs by telling Megatron that if he doesn't give them the cure, Optimus will die (and Megatron will therefore not get to kill him)

Megatron (who had figured out this was all about Optimus before Bee even told him): "After our deep history together, to NOT watch the spark ebb from his eyes with my very own...well played, Scout." And then he gives him the cure

Starscream is about to kill Optimus and Megatron--as the FIRST thing he does after getting out of his coma--literally knocks him out of the sky, saves Optimus's life (priorities), and completely lets Optimus go. Which brings the Deliberately Saving Optimus's Life count up to 2!

Will add on as the show continues, but this is just like. 14 episodes in. At this point, forget allegations, they've been fully tried and convicted lol

[californiastatelibrary]

Celebrate Library Card Sign-up Month this September! We're calling all readers in disguise to discover the incredible resources and opportunities available at your local library by signing up for a library card.

[helioswritings]

It’s a perfect night out as you sit on the porch with the hair dye setting on your head — not too hot with a nice breeze stirring the branches on the trees. You knew Bumblebee wouldn’t be back until late, but you’d resigned yourself to staying up late and waiting for him.

Thus, the dark red hairdye sitting a top your hair. Even in your adulthood you still colored it in the late hours, like you were waiting for one of your parents to come out and scold you, but instead of secretly trying to impress someone at school, you were killing time while waiting for your alien boyfriend to come back home.

Like you’d summoned him with your late night thoughts, his engine sounded just down the street from your house before the yellow car eased into your driveway. Upon seeing you, he immediately changed forms and you thanked whatever god was out there that you lived pretty far away from any neighbors.

He beeped at you, his blue optics full of concern.

“What’s wrong? Is someone hurt?”

Bee beeps at you again, concern still plain on his face and in his tone, but this time he points at the dye sitting on your head.

Realization dawns on you very suddenly and you laugh a little. “I’m not — sorry, I’m not laughing at you — I’m not hurt, Bee. It’s hair dye; I’m coloring my hair.”

The beeps this time are inquisitive, and you take that to mean he wants a more in depth explanation. “Well because it’s nice to have something new every now and then. I’ve had tons of different colored hair, even yellow like you, you know.”

Bumblebee beeps proudly and you roll your eyes just as the timer goes off. “Be right back, okay? You can be the first one to see it.”

A few minutes tick by before you’re back on your porch again, the wind on your wet hair making you shiver a bit. Bee beeps happily at you, bringing one digit down to touch it.

“Careful, careful. D’you like it?”

He nods, beeping happily again.

“Good, me too. Maybe next time I’ll do black and yellow so we match.” You tell him, a grin on your face.

He beeps and shakes his head, you gasp in mock offense.

“What?! Are you saying only you could pull it off?”

He nods, but you know he’s playing around with you.

You roll your eyes and yawn. “Man, it’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow, Bee.”

He chirps at you, like he’s expecting something. The autobot brings a hand down to your level and you climb up, realizing what exactly it is he wants. You place your lips on his cheek and he sets you down.

“Goodnight, Bee. Again.”

He beeps at you before turning back into a car; presumably so he can sleep too. Its moments like that where you really remember how different the two of you are, but even then you still have your similarities.

[prima-after-dawn]

This is a safe space.

Tell me what nasty things you’d do to him.

[angelfishcake]

Merry Christmas! Here's a Medieval Sari based on @floofyfungi 's Miracle series on ao3!

[ariadne-mouse]

Knowing from the Bocular Man's first appearance that he has limited, recorded phrase library, I am sitting here WAITING for the day he says something off-script. Whether it's spliced together from other recorded responses or generated completely fresh, still using Merlin's own voice or constructing his own, I HUNGER for the moment the Bocular Man says something and everyone is like "hm okay cool" and Merlin is (quietly or unquietly) going absolutely bananas because wait, I didn't give him that one.

[hercarisntyours]

chat i beg for your oplita fic recommendations

[pinkofatom]

Book search

Measured steps echoed between towering shelves. Stale and dry smelled the air. Countless nameless backs filled every row. Green eyes scanned each and everyone. Shoulder-long red tresses framed a focused expression.

Rebecca sighed — another pointless row. She knew that the book had to be somewhere in this library. She was determined to find it. The woman just didn't know where to start. Neither the blank-faced receptionist, nor the bubbly promoter in the front could help her. Both still clang to her mind. Their glazed eyes. Tight revealing clothes. She shook her head. The exhaustion was getting to her. Rebecca had already spent hours wandering between the bookcases and only a vague memory had kept her on the track.

It had to be here. It just had to. The knowledge practically drummed inside her head.

The redhead took a deep breath, then turned a sharp corner. Rebecca couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, however. A quick glance backwards revealed only darkness and the flickering of a distant light. She rubbed her temple. It had been a mistake to go after work. The young woman should have just gone home.

But no. Her tired brain just wouldn't let her rest. The book was all that mattered. She was so sure of it. Every bone in her body vibrated in agreement.

Rebecca closed her eyes and tried to remember what kind of book she was even searching for. What the cover looked like. What it was about. A vague sense of familiarity came back. The woman was sure she had seen it somewhere, sometime before. But no image came to her — only a pleasant tingle and a surge of urgency. Her boots followed suit. With quicker steps she strode through the labyrinth. Her fingers glided across the shelves and the endless rows of books.

Row after row after row she walked. She had the feeling of having seen it all already. Her mind spun. Her heels clacked.

Cold shivers trackled down Rebecca's spine. Heels? The redhead looked down and gasped. She had been sure to wear her boots before. Now a pair of black heels adorned her feet. The woman frowned. With practiced ease she adjusted her slipping glasses.

Another jolt of worry traveled along her body. Since when did she wear glasses?

Rebecca's fingers traced her frames, then her nose and the bridge to her temples. Yes, they fit. They were her glasses. A slight smile appeared on the woman's face. Of course she wore them — always. She needed them to read the book's title.

Clacking she resumed her track. Hips brushed against her skirt. Dark pantyhose gleamed under flickering lights. Why did she think she wore pants. Highly inappropriate. She needed a tight pencil skirt and a button-up blouse. The redhead looked down. Yes, that was correct. She had worn it the entire time. The black skirt hugged her frame. It ended right above her knees. Rebecca could feel its firmness whenever her legs moved.

Her hand brushed along her white blouse. Only the first button was open and her bra was clearly outlined. Lacey black — the perfect contrast. The young woman smiled. The perfect attire for finding the book.

She had to get it, after all.

Another corner appeared and Rebecca turned sharply. She had no idea where she was going, yet her feet guided her along. The woman followed without question. Her body just knew where it had to be. Her head felt light and airy. The book. It was all that mattered. A tingling sensation danced through her body.

Rebecca shivered in anticipation. Her breasts stretched the blouse. She had the urge to undo a button or two. Her free hand glided over the firm fabric of the garment. A soft sigh left her red lips. It felt so good to wear the proper clothes for the library — like the miniskirt brushing her butts underline. She had to get the book, after all. Her heels echoed louder in agreement.

She passed another corner and scanned the spines. Still nothing. Rebecca knew it had to be here. Her green eyes sparkled. Her body thrummed. The young woman licked her lips. The redhead knew exactly why. She was excited — aroused even. Wandering the library was her duty after all. It made her wet. It made her feel alive.

The woman's hand glided over her skirt. She felt her crotch through the fabric. Rebecca gasped. She could feel the heat. Her head spun.

Her feet stopped. Her eyes focused on a single spot on the shelf in front of her. She froze and her mouth stood open. Drool dripped from crimson lips. There it was — the book. Rebecca had never seen anything more enticing. A perfect black cover. Golden imprints formed words that the woman couldn't understand. Yet she knew it was her goal.

The redhead took it out with trembling fingers. The leather cover felt smooth and warm to her touch. The spine flexed under the pressure of her palm. She could feel the pages inside. They called to her — screamed for her to be read.

Rebecca sat on the ground. Her skirt rode up and exposed her thighs. A small moan escaped her. She crossed her legs. Pantyhose and skin rubbed together. The woman bit her lip. The redhead opened the first page.

Words appeared in cursive writing. They spelled out the life of a woman — named Rebecca. It was an ordinary life. Filled with cherished childhood moments, difficult teenaged years and stressful adult work. A tingling spread from the tip of the reader's finger to her head and between her legs.

The woman continued. She turned the pages. They showed another story — the life of a librarian, of a sexy slutty woman that would do anything to please others. This time every word that passed her eyes disappeared. Absorbed into her ever-changing mind.

The reader gasped and her eyes glazed over. Her tongue flickered across her red lips. Her hands roamed over her body. They brushed over the white button-up, her breasts, her thighs and her crotch.

Moans echoed between the bookcases. The redhead arched her back and her head snapped backwards. The words danced inside her head. Pathways inside her brain reassembled into a reflection of the Library. Her free hand moved rhythmically between her legs. The other one held the book.

She was close — so close to her release.

Page after page, word after word. Her brain soaked up the identity like a sponge. Her eyes gleamed. Rebecca's hips buckled. Her thumb circled her clit through the dark fabric.

She was so close — she needed to finish the book.

With glazed eyes, she kept on reading. It was all there. Her old life, her old identity — replaced. The words vanished from the page. The black book absorbed her old memories. Only a loyal life librarian remained. Her old life vanished. The book was now empty.

The redhead stood up. A long shiver traveled along her body. Arousal stained her pantyhose. Wide her mouth stretched into a beam. Empty eyes locked on the book. With mechanical movements the librarian put it back into the shelf. Then she straitened her posture. Her heels clacked on the stone floor. She had work to do. A sexy slutty librarian needed to assist visitors — lead them to the books which desired them.

[briabooknerd]

[whatwooshkai]

Lucky Number 7!

"Designation?"

"Chase."

Chase keeps his finials pinned flat against his helm, doorwings wide and fanned to keep the bot behind him from getting too close, which they have been for the past five minutes.

He has a vibroknife in his subspace. He'd rather not use it- you can only make a first impression once.

The femme flips through a datapad until her optics go wide. "Oh," she murmurs, the dangling jewelry from her finials making a loud ting! when they flatten to her helm. "Oh, you're one of those. Hang on."

Chase's optic twitches. He is normally very good at keeping his emotions in check, and no one who knows him has ever seen his temper, and that's the way he wants to keep it.

But if one more bot refers to him as "one of those" he's going to do something stupid.

Chase hates doing stupid things.

"Okay, I got you right here!" The femme gives him a sheepish smile as she hands over a pair of keycards. "There was an issue with organizing the dorms this year. Normally you'd be put with other bots in your track but you ended up in the randomized group, so you'll be staying with a few bots from other tracks. That's not a problem, is it?"

Chase's finials lift slightly away from his helm. "That is fine," he says, accepting the cards. That is... probably for the best, actually. "Thank you."

"No problem!" the femme says brightly. "So you're in room 704. Elevators are on your left. Next!"

Chase shuffles away from the table, readjusting the bag he has slung over his shoulder, eyeing the key cards in his hand.

Primus, when was the last time he met new people?

The elevator is blessedly empty when he steps inside, and so is the hallway as he follows it down to his room. Well, he was in one of the last groups to check in, so that's expected.

The door has four slots for name tags, as all of the ones in this hallway do. Only two have been filled in so far, for mechs "Boulder" and "Heatwave". Both have little drawings on them, one better than the other's. However, both seem to have identical handwriting... interesting.

So it seems only two have checked in. Maybe he'll have a choice of berth, then.

Chase swipes the key card and gently opens the door.

There's two sets of bunk berths, a desk in front and behind each one. None seem to have been claimed, but on the left, there's a bag tossed on the top bunk and a few posters plastered up already, and some blankets and pillows piled up. And on the right, there's a bag on the bottom bunk, and-

Oh. He's being glared at.

"Another one?" the mech mutters, green optics narrowed at Chase. He's orange a white, with a scar cutting down through one optic. He looks about Chase's age. "'Oh, we'll get you your own room, Blades'! my aft. Mechs walking in every five minutes," he huffs.

Chase frowns. "The attitude is hardly appropriate," he says, and the mech's optics suddenly go wide, as if he thought Chase couldn't hear him.

He mutters something unintelligible and then turns over on his side, revealing a pair of rotors. A flight frame, then.

Blades. His name wasn't on the door.

Chase looks around at the other bags. So his choice has been made for him, then. As usual.

He sets his bag down on the berth to the left, projecting his calendar up on the wall. And then he sits.

He's not really sure what to do now. Conversation is not really an option, what with the less-than-warm welcome, and he has no need to explore the city he grew up in.

Well, that’s a bit of a stretch. He mostly grew up in various facilities around the city, but he spent enough time out on the streets to know it.

Besides… he’d really rather not risk running into his batch. Not alone, at least.

Even though his coding cries for them, his frame hurts without them, he couldn’t get out of berth for several days after they were officially separated-

He’s better now. He has to be better.

He’s never had to try and make new friends. He’s never had to make friends, period. Chase can’t remember the last time he met someone new before this week.

But it can’t be that hard, can it? Sure, this Blades is… hostile… but maybe the others are a little more friendly!

Speaking of- someone decides to kick the door open at that very moment.

Blades looks up, and slight relief teeks through his field as he lies back down. So one of the mechs on the door, then.

Heatwave, he imagines- only because the mech is hot.

He stops a few feet from Chase once he lays optics on him, but Chase can feel the heat he gives off from here. That has to be unnatural, surely. Even Ultra Magnus, the largest mech he’s ever met, did not give off that much heat.

Beyond the odd temperature, the mech looks friendly enough. He’s red, with bright and warm yellow optics, and twin scars cutting up one cheek. In his arms are a plethora of cubes and energon sweets, several shoved in his mouth as well.

He mumbles something Chase can’t make out around the food in his mouth, then tosses a cube at Blades. The flight frame mutters some kind of thanks, and the mech turns back to Chase.

He shuffles his items into one arm and offers a hand to Chase. He once again speaks, presumably introducing himself, but Chase can’t understand a word he says.

He takes his hand and shakes it. “You really shouldn’t speak with your mouth full,” he says.

Yellow optics narrow at him. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” he snaps. There’s a thick accent there that the universal translator is doing its best to suppress. “I asked for your name.”

Chase’s doorwings flick and the mech’s optics only follow them for a second before training on Chase’s face again. “Chase,” he says. “I will have to ask you for yours again, I did not understand you. Also, please let go of my hand.”

“Heatwave.” A correct guess, then. Chase’s doorwings raise slightly, but Heatwave’s gaze doesn’t shift to them again. Instead, he keeps his optics trained on Chase’s face, who looks away from the optic contact. He does release Chase’s hand, though. “You should check out the mess hall,” he says, moving his quarry back to both arms. “Never seen so much fuel in my life.”

Chase watches him in mild fascination as he figures out how to climb the ladder of the bunk without dropping any of the cubes, and from there Chase can’t see what he does with them.

So he’s expected to go collect his own ration. Good to know.

…He should be trying to make more conversation, right? Blades might be a lost cause but Heatwave at least introduced himself.

He just… doesn’t know what to do from here. Should he ask what track Heatwave is in? He can guess, from the paint job, but would Heatwave even entertain that? He’s sure he knows what Chase is here for, and has thankfully not said anything derogatory about it… yet.

It’s not wrong to expect it to happen eventually, right?

Then he realizes something. “Where are the washracks?”

Heatwave leans out over the top of the bunk. “Hallway.”

Chase frowns. “Why?”

“What, never been in a communal wash rack before?” Heatwave asks, an oddly aggressive tone to his voice. “This ain’t no prissy enforcer academy, Chase. You’ll hafta get used to other mechs in your space.”

Oh, that accent is really coming out now. Chase wishes he could place it. “It is not a problem,” he growls, though it is… not ideal. The idea of sharing washracks with anyone other than his batch makes his plating crawl. He doesn’t appreciate the attitude, though.

“Whatever you say.” Heatwave leans back.

Okay. So far, his roommates are violently antisocial and rude. Wonderful.

It is now that the fourth roommate decides to show themselves, and Chase braces himself for the worst.

They gently push the door open, holding a datapad. They’re green and far more heavyset than any of the others, though Heatwave comes close. Blue optics widen at him. “Hello,” they say, in very thickly accented Common.

No universal translator, then. Interesting.

“Hello,” Chase says back, offering his hand. “Chase.”

“Boulder.” So that’s all four. Good. “I am… stop by for my datapad. Good to meet you.”

“And you.” Primus almighty, Chase wishes he’d met someone who wasn’t Iaconian before today, because all these new accents, and he can’t place a single one. Maybe if he knew what their mother language is, he could speak to them better? “If you speak in your native language, I can still understand it,” Chase says, tapping his throat.

“I know,” Boulder says. “But I like to make the effort.”

“Okay.”

Boulder turns away from him and grabs the datapad from their bag, before offering everyone a wave and leaving again.

Chase sits down on his berth again. Boulder seems nice.

…This might not be so bad.

[mk-wizard]

I was looking for some Transformers comics in my local library and it made me realize how precious libraries really are to people who don't have big salaries like me, but want to still read comics. The selection of graphic novels is very limited even for popular titles and it's sad.

Libraries are more than just quiet places to read, study or draw. They make books available to people who can't afford them and for stuff Transformers graphic novel especially which can cost as much as a McDonald's meal with a drink and fries, that's a big deal.

So please, support your local library if not for yourself or the library, for people on budgets. And it is the same with games and movies. Donate to the library either with books or with money.

[cauls-antique-pepperbox-pistol]

Haven’t been drawing a whole lot el oh el

But have this

[transformersbrainrot]

Imagine: Rewind meets Optimus Prime at some point during the war and starts fanboying SUUUPER hard... NOT because that's fucking Optimus Prime or anything but because Orion Pax is a fucking LEGEND in the archivist community

[kesoyotes]

🐦‍🔥🐦‍🔥

[prima-after-dawn]

Every time he discovers a new kink