#they will not kiss your honor they will armwrestle

[ethanharmonia]

Volo showing off his worm to Emmet

Tw : Lore /hj

With Volo having severe dementia i do think that he would forget everything about pokemon battles and such as he used his powers for a very long time and slowly forgot about how pokemon battles worked. He is also not used to human interaction which makes it hard for him to understand what others are saying to him and hard to bond with humans as he strongly despises them. Volo currently doesnt have a main pokemon team but he brings along the ones that he has a good bond with (example, his Togekiss that he raised since he was a little goober), he doesnt use his pokemon for battling but rather just spending time with them, like ya know, like a family? (ah yes, bringing Arceus, Giratina, Palkia and Dialga as if its a completly normal thing for god himself LMAOOO)

Volo is just a single mom, leave him alone, he just wanna be with his kids than some goofy ahh humans💔

i might edit this later cuz my eyes are about to close like the gates (might also fix the drawing cuz i was in a rush)

[lovemesomerobobois]

Celebrating Hope

More love for Fort Max and Ultra Magnus. Also a hint of Chromedome x Rewind!

T-rated drabble for mechpreg. Established relationship. 

It seemed like the whole ship turned up. Ultra Magnus had never seen Swerve’s so busy, and he wasn’t sure if he hated it or enjoyed the chaotic sense of community that was the Lost Light. Swerve was certainly enjoying himself, running back and forth behind the bar, fixing drink after drink, visor lit up with excitement. It was, after all, a big day that called for an equally big party. Hell, the last time someone threw a sparkling-shower was ages ago, and certainly not during war time. Magnus felt honored to have been invited, to bare witness to Chromedome and Rewind’s immense joy. Max too, beamed. This was a celebration for their species, and everyone knew it, everyone felt it stirring in their sparks, the hope for a new generation of Cybertronians, what was once considered a futile endeavor. Yet there they were, Chromedome glowing, cradling the small lump of his plating, and Rewind standing on a chair next to him, commanding respect for his sparkmate. The very picture of hope. 

Ultra Magnus sighed, a servo on his thigh drawing him back to the bar. Max grinned, but stared expectantly. A glance around the table confirmed he missed something. Whirl leaned on the table, pincers clacking, and even Rodimus was quiet. He’d been droning on about how he was “obviously a prime candidate for god-sire,” but now he slouched against Drift and waited. 

Clearing his throat, Magnus said, “I’m sorry, what were we discussing?”

“We weren’t saying anything,” Rodimus said with an uncertain grin. “You were talking about hope and stuff, sounded pretty sage-like.”

“Oh.” Magnus had no idea what he’d said aloud. “Apologies.” Next to him, Fortress Maximus chuckled into his glass. 

Whirl waved a dismissive servo. “Anyone else think it’s weird Domehead’s the one carrying?”

Ratchet tossed back a shot of something purple. “Rewind’s frame wouldn’t be able to support a sparkling. Too small.”

“I’d still want to carry if me and Cy had a sparkling,” Tailgate chimed in. Cyclonus promptly choked on his engex. “I mean, how big do you think it’s going to be?”

Whirl chugged the last of his liquor. “Teeny-tiny, like a bug but not a bug. Slip right through your fingers.”

“It will share both parents' genetics,” Ratchet said. “Could be closer to Chromedome’s size.”

Fortress Maximus set his half-empty glass down and leaned in, shoulder brushing Magnus’. “But what does this mean for Cybertron?” he asked, a furtive glance to Magnus. “Or for any of us? How long has it been since the last sparkling was birthed, not a full grown mech harvested from a hot spot or constructed cold?”

Magnus allowed himself to spread his legs enough for his thigh to bump Max’s. There was always something new and amazing about him, and Magnus loathed the day when he stopped being surprised. 

The table was quiet for a minute, but the bustle of the bar made up for it. Somewhere, Trailbreaker was calling for another round of shots and Skids was armwrestling Mainframe and Primus only knew what Brainstorm was doing but he was certainly being loud enough about it. 

“It means that there is hope for restoring our race, peacefully,” Magnus eventually said. 

Drift nodded. “We have a chance to raise a new generation without war and constant turmoil.”

“Someone might finally learn from our mistakes,” Cyclonus finished.

()

Fortress Maximus was slow to fall asleep that night. He sighed and groaned and rolled around in the berth until Magnus woke up and curled an arm around his waist and pulled him tight. He settled down, but not for long. When his digits started tracing circles on Magnus’ middle, he took the que. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, voice gruff from exhaustion. Processor hazy, he was having a hard time focusing on anything specific, but Max’s optics were clear and vibrant. 

Max pressed an open servo against Magnus’ toned middle. “Sparklings,” he whispered. 

“Sparklings.” Magnus repeated the word as if that hadn’t been the main topic for the last few hours. 

“Yeah. What do you think it’d be like. . . to carry?”

He rubbed his optics with the back of his servo, desperately trying to clear some of the exhaustion from them. “Uncomfortable, I imagine. But. . .” He remembered the look of pure satisfaction and utmost joy on Chromedome’s face. “But a source of pride. Hope.”

Max hummed. “I never thought about it, carrying. Or siring. It was always just a liability, a weak spot.” His optics searched his partner’s. 

“How long have you been up?” Magnus asked, stifling a yawn. It wasn’t that he was disinterested, but a conversation like this should be reserved for clear conscious and any time but three in the morning. 

“Don’t know.” Max shrugged. “Sorry if I woke you.”

Magnus sat up a little more, groggily leaning over to steal a kiss. And then there was a warm blue servo cupping his face and a glossa on his neck, and he couldn’t stop himself from purring, “If you asked, I would gladly carry your sparklings, Fortress Maximus.” 

“You are unbelievable,” Max rumbled. “I love you,” he added in a whisper, voice muffled and face hidden in Magnus’ neck, but he was already half-asleep.