#transformers ficlet

[fallenneziah]

hello!!! Sorry to bother or bother you, but I was wondering if you could tell me Tmnt Bayverser's reaction to a reader doing parkour? like they are very good at it, but as no one is perfect sometimes they end up with some marks on their bodyfor example, the reader reaches out to greet Bumblebee and the Optimus eyes fixate on the purple bruise on the reader's skin

Optimus: You're running again, aren't you?

reader: yes!!! I broke my record!!

At first I was a tiny bit confused since you seemed to reference Ninja Turtles but then you brought up transformers... So I'm assuming you want Transformers. Thanks for the asks anon, I apologize for this being stuck in my drafts for so long. 😓

Transformers x Reader who does Parkour.

I'd like to think that they aren't that new to the concept. Thri seeking, tricks, jumping around on things and still doing it even after getting hurt.

I'm sure other than the very extreme gladiator pit and other training arenas that they had things like that on Cybertron.

Although you are different from them, so Optimus doesn't totally understand why you would do something that would cause you pain.

When he saw your bruises and callouses when meeting you he was curious.

He bent down, looking at you, scanning you. Then he introduced himself. "My name is Optimus Prime," you do your best to shake his hand, holding onto his finger. That's when he noticed a bruise on your bicep.

He hummed thoughtfully. "You're injured." You looked down and chuckle. "No, I'm not, I'm actually just a sporty person. The bruises are normal."

"Do you need medical examination?"

"Nah, I'll be alright." You smile at him, and Optimus nods.

Overtime of your friendship with the team they come to understand more of what you do. Bumblebee will drive with you to the outdoor climbing park so he can watch you from some feet away as you do your thing.

He used to be something of a parkour artist on Cybertron as well I would think. But they did become much more concerned for you.

You returned to base early, huffing and puffing, covered in sweat when you saw Optimus, his attention stolen by your state. "Y/n, I'd wondered if you'd disappeared. Are you alright??"

You nodded, bending down and settling your hands on your knees. "I'm good, big guy- phew- oh man that was fun."

Optimus raised an optic ridge and approached, kneeling down to you again. "You've been running again then?" You nod, leaning against his hand that he offers so you can relax. When you grab on he notices a few setting bruises.

"Seems you've been busy."

"I had to break my record." You pant, looking up at him with an electrifying smile.

Optimus firmly nods, hearing the sound of bumblebee coming over, noticing you. His radio going off with a "Hallelujah everybody!"

You chuckle breathlessly and smile. "Hey 'Bee! I broke my record!!"

Bumblebee revs his engine and bends down next to Optimus, who leans you back up and steps back for some space.

"Oh yeah 'Bee." You showed him your watch, which had recorded your time. "Look at that 😄"

Bumblebee whirred loudly, giving you a fist bump.

He noticed the bruises, whining softly, checking them. "Oh they aren't too bad 'Bee. I'm just a little banged up."

Your way of explaining bruises to the team had been it's essentially buffering, the dent stays for a bit until your body buffers it out.

'Bee nodded, gently patting your head.

Now, If Ratchet ever saw your injuries you know he's be ready to lecture you. Telling you how humans are inherently stupid for getting themselves hurt all the time. Unless you point out how they fight and get hurt all the time... Then he'll shut up and just look you over.

He doesn't dislike you, he cares for you and your fragile human body very much.

Overtime they get used to you coming back with minor injuries like bruises. Bumblebee even gets into how big can the bruise get?? And you entertain the idea while the others just... Watch in disbelief of you two.

And then one day you come back with a little more than a bruise. Bumblebee came to pick you up, whirring when he saw the wrist guard you were wearing.

"It's ok 'Bee, just a sprain."

'Bee whirred his engine. and on the way back to their little hideout you told him what a sprain was.

Yeah, don't even get me started on what happened when Optimus saw that. Sauntering into base without a fully functioning hand!? Off to Ratchet!

"Y/n, you need to be more careful." Optimus said while leading you to Ratchet.

"I know, but we've got medical tools to help me heal Optimus, it's not like I'm dying." You teased.

He shot you a look, a brief note of frustration, before resting his expression again. "I am still going to let Ratchet look at you."

You gulped. Aw man...

When Optimus brought you in, Ratchet reacted how you can expect. He crossed his arms and took a look at your hand. "You aren't being careful." He said firmly.

"I am-"

"No more running, even after you heal." He said firmly.

"Yeah, well you can't ban me." You also crossed your arms.

Optimus sighed softly, giving his old friend a look. They didn't understand, but hey, if you wanted to do it, they couldn't stop you. They just worried when you got hurt.

[robobrainrot]

Introducing Rory Magellan, my newest Transformers Human OC.

Rory is a third year Fine Arts major that does a lot of experimental art and gesture studies. They frequently stop to draw things they find around town, which causes them to be late to almost everything. Rory also usually draws themself as a little Garfield-esque character instead of a human-person.

One day they stop to draw a gorgeous red Aston Martin they find parked in an alley and decide to leave the sketch and their card on the windshield for the "owner." Vain as he is, Knockout loves this kind of attention and starts making a plan to get them to be his personal artist.

I'm not sure if I'll post the full short fic of them or not but here's a snip-it under the cut;

(From the first chapter/introduction)

“Finally! The human is leaving. Knockout, Out.” He ended the transmission quickly as the human in question walked closer to the car. Instead of continuing down the sidewalk, they stopped next to Knockout’s side mirror. They pulled a piece of paper off the thing they had been fiddling with, then flipped it over and scribbled something on the back.

It took everything Knockout had not to smack them away as they lifted up one of his windshield wipers and tucked the paper neatly under it. He was trying to be a better bot. If he kept causing issues, the Autobots might have second thoughts about giving him so much freedom. He remained tense as the human placed their hand on his hood.

“Don’t see many beauties like you around here.” They said under their breath. “Thanks for letting me draw you. Love the sticker thing.” Then, they patted his hood and walked away.

Knockout sat there for a moment stunned. First, yes, he was quite beautiful. More humans should be like this one and notice that. Second, they had spoken to him. Not at him. Not to some fake driver. Him. Third, they had touched him. Their grubby little human fingerprints were no doubt on his hood now. He was going to have to pull over and fix that before returning to base. Not to mention whatever it was that they stuck under his window wiper. It was terribly itchy.

Still, he watched them turn the corner down the street. He had many questions. Were any of them worth pursuing? The blinking missed message from Breakdown on his dash told him no.

“Stay out of trouble, Speedster.” The text read.

He turned on his engine then rolled out. He would stay out of trouble… for now.

---

Notes: 1. KO doesn't know that humans talk to inanimate objects sometimes. 2. Breakdown isn't dead. Fuck canon- I do what I want :)

[wondrous-art]

Ouch, that's gotta hurt. Felt like drawing some angsty artwork of Oswald's transformation since I hadn't attempted doing that in a long time.

I also decided to share a snippet of my writing to go along with this piece under the cut, if you'll humor me.

***

Oswald tried to let his mind relax while he was out on the open road heading out of Dusk Valley. He should be relaxed. He was finally getting out of that boonie town, away from the crazy locals who were right at home away from civilized society. 

He'd been stuck there for nearly a month after his accident, when he hit that creature with his car, and got attacked by it. 'Cause screw him for being worried about hitting someone's dog or something, right? Every second he spent in that town after the fact had been complete and utter misery. He got sick in front of his client and nearly blew the job he'd driven out here to do. It's never a good look for your accountant to faint and throw up in your trashcan. The pay wasn't even that good to be worth all this mess. Then he was sure people were sabotaging his car, probably that weird kid who kept harassing him. He didn't even care if his car still needed repairs, he was going to risk it and deal with the rest once he was back in Portland. After all of that, he was ready to face whatever was waiting for him back home.

And yet, after escaping all of that, he still was tense as he gripped his steering wheel with an intensity that made his knuckles turn white. He couldn't get his last encounter with that kid out of his mind; when he was filling up his gas tank one last time before bailing. He'd stalked him to the gas station to keep spewing on about his bullshit about monsters and cryptids. But one thing repeated over and over in his mind.

"You can't go home. You're going to hurt people." His voice echoed in his mind.

He just couldn't shake it, no matter how hard he tried to rationalize it in his mind. 

It was just a crazy kid, he thought.

It's all a practical joke to freak him out.

Still, his stomach turned with anxiety, among other things. As the sky grew darker and his headlights were the only thing illuminating the road ahead of him, he started to feel overwhelmed with nausea. A constant body shudder ran through his torso rhythmically, had been since before he left in fact. But what was once a pulse every 5 minutes or so, now hit back to back, like the seconds on a ticking clock. It wasn't painful, just uncomfortable and it was making it hard for him to focus.

After a while, the shapes and outlines of the trees and the lights started to sway and blur. Rubbing his eyes was useless, and his hands were starting to shake. Even though it was all clear, open road ahead of him, Oswald didn't feel safe continuing to drive in this condition. He pulled off onto the side of the road and let his car idle there for a moment. Now left in the quiet of the dark, empty highway, he took a few breaths to get his bearings.

It's the stress, he told himself. It'd been a long few weeks, it was dark, and he didn't feel well. He'd just take a break until the feeling passed, and if not, he'd call someone. Hell, he'd rather sleep in his car out here than go back into town.

He waited for a few minutes, leading back into his seat and controlling his breathing. He rubbed his stomach, with a moan, as it had started to hurt from the body shudders. The area beyond his headlights was now pitch dark. He was surrounded by nothing but dark forest, alone in this tiny metal box, and he wasn't getting any better.

Oswald let out a shaky huff. His body was trembling, and he felt a sudden hot flash come over him, his body feverishly radiating heat like it was a sauna. He turned on his air conditioner at full blast and picked up his phone, contemplating calling for an ambulance. He was already panting. Something was seriously wrong with him.

As he typed the ems number on his screen he raised his hand to wipe the film of sweat forming on his forehead, but hissed when he was unexpectedly scratched by something sharp. He looked down in confusion to find his nails turning a brownish black color, almost like the skin underneath was rotting, and they were long and mangled, despite being freshly manicured not even the day before. 

Before he could investigate, one last convulsion pulsed through him, this time a sharp, painful cramp that shot up his spine and down his limbs like electricity, forcing his back to arch off the seat. He let out a yelp and gasped for air.

He hit the call button on the phone and got the classic "911, what's your emergency?"

"I need an ambulance, I think I'm having a heart attack or something." He explained, despite his symptoms not really matching. 

As he was speaking, he immediately felt a terrible ache in his hand, like it had been freshly slammed into a door. When he looked down he could see bruising forming around the knuckles as the bones seemed to be stretching. As his fingers popped out of place on their own volition, Oswald barely recognized the voice on the phone over his own panicked whimpering.

"Sir, I need to know your location," The person on the phone repeated. 

“Ah-- uhm, I-I'm on the highway n-north of Dusk Valley." He stammered as he tried to explain, but his eyes were transfixed on his grotesquely mangled hands. He bit down on his lip in an attempt to choke down any cries of pain, but instead he felt something puncture into the flesh, causing him to shout anyway. As blood trickled down from his injury, he felt around his mouth, feeling misshapen teeth pushing their way out of his mouth. He suddenly tasted coppery blood as it filled his mouth. He gagged and opened the door to spit it out onto the ground, but to his horror, with it came a half dozen of his teeth. 

Before he could even process what he was seeing, his body was wracked with pain as every muscle in his body seized and cramped like a full body Charlie horse. His veins buldged against his skin as his muscle tensed to hard he could barely move. He managed to still choke out a scream through his closed up through muscles. He dropped the phone as his hands could no longer properly grip the device, and it fell to the floor.

The voice of the responder became muffled in an ocean of noise from his own heartbeat and heavy breathing. Then the first snaps of his ribs and spine breaking rang out above everything else. Oswald let out a visceral scream as his chest contorted and swelled against his seatbelt, which began digging into his skin. He managed to regain just enough control over his limbs to slam his palm down on the buckle release and fall out of the car onto the hard concrete beneath. His glasses fell off his face and cluttered somewhere under the darkness of the car.

He laid on his stomach on the ground, unable to back onto his feet with his muscles burning as they were. Bile rose in his throat as he cried through wheezing breaths. He managed to get his knees under him and lift his face off the ground just long enough for him to vomit.

The only thoughts running through his mind were 'This can't be happening. Why is my body doing this? Make it stop!'

The cracking of bones extended down his spine and into his limbs. His arms grew thin and elongated. His feet were stretching and being forced out of his loafers; claws tearing holes into his socks. His body was engulfed in a fiery assault as his muscles swelled. His nice dress shirt and pants were unable to withstand the strain of his body growing exponentially in size, and ripped at the seams. He had to hold himself back from getting sick again as he felt his organs shifting under his skin, growing, shrinking, and rearranging themselves to fit their new skeletal frame. His spine grew in length, pushing the skin out of the back and forming a crude, half formed tail.

His skin burned and itched as a thick coat of blonde fur spread down his neck and spine and towards the rest of the body. He let out a horrible groan, as his throat was already raw from his vocal cords tearing and reforming. Tears flowed freely from his eyes, while snot and drool dripped down his face. He didn't want to believe he was actually turning into a monster. It had to all be a horrible nightmare, but the pain was real. He should have listened to the warnings. 

"H-help me--! Please--!" He screamed into the void, but he was alone. There was no one who could save him from the torment of his transformation. Yet the blinding pain bore desperate cries to someone, anyone. The pain was dizzying. He could no longer recognize the body trailing behind him as being human, and he was starting to feel less and less connected to his body. The world around him felt fuzzy, like he was slipping in and out of a dream. He felt himself dissociating, his soul leaving his mind to escape the pain he was in.

He saw his face growing, his jaw snapping into the shape of a snout, but by then it was as if he was a passenger in his own body, slowly sinking deeper into the void's embrace until he couldn't think, only felt a bubbling anger in his chest, and a growing hunger. So... so hungry.

[zephyrrhiesfyrian]

silly tinyformers ficlet, starring Brainstorm and Quark:

Your tiny is being harassed.

At least you think he is, because every time you come home, you find Quark hiding somewhere, and when you ask him what's wrong, he chitters and points at the nearest window.

Quark is a pretty jumpy little bot already (it had taken an entire afternoon to convince him that your vacuum wasn't going to eat him) but this is a relatively new development.

At first you think there's a bird of some kind nesting outside your window, but there's no nest when you check and Quark is nonplussed when you change your desktop background to a slideshow of various falcons.

So you set up a camera facing towards the window, wave bye to Quark (you would pet him, but you found out pretty quickly that he hated being pet), and leave for work.

Unsurprisingly, when you come back, Quark has clambered down into the open drawer in your desk that has become his main hiding spot. He's been spooked again.

You had a lot of ideas of what might be scaring him, all of them running through your head as you transfer the video to your computer and start reviewing it, but they're all thrown out the window when you see the real reason.

There's another tiny visiting the window every day.

You give Quark a tired look as he peeks over your arm, glaring at the video from behind his teeny spectacles.

Despite Quark's frantic protests, you do eventually decide to try and catch the other tiny. And it turns out to be very easy, which is surprising given that this is the same tiny who knew to wait for you to leave before pestering Quark.

You just leave your kitchen window partially open and some energon pellets under a very conspicuous box (you didn't expect it to actually work), and when you come home the box-trap as been activated and there's a lot of panicked beeping coming from the inside. When you open the top, the beeping stops and a teal and silver jet-alt tiny looks up at you with wide yellow optics.

You both stare at each other for several seconds before he points at your bedroom door (behind which Quark is safely hidden) and cheeps insistently at you. His wings flutter in excitement when he hears you mention Quark's name and he starts chirruping louder, practically bouncing on his heels.

You sigh.

He's really cute.

[billdenbrough]

cannot possibly express enough how strange this one is. ok. @naturecalls111 prompted me (technically for microfic monday, but it was quickly determined to be untenable) kevaaron + frogs. there was an additional, informal element to the prompt she wanted that rocketed it from 488w (already egregious) to 1.6k (don't look at me), but i'm already wrestling with my psyche enough abt this one lmao. we'll leave that part to be a surprise so i don't have to think about it anymore HAHA. i guess. anyway. kevaaron + frogs, for mina.

“This is your fault,” Aaron says.

Kevin is affronted. “How could this be my fault!”

“Nobody cares enough about what I do to curse me,” Aaron points out, huffy. As huffy as a frog can be, anyway. “But you? Absolutely. You’re also really annoying.”

Kevin sulks.

“How sure are you?” Neil asks, following Nicky into the room. “I mean. Frogs?”

Nicky gives him an incredulous look, then snatches Kevin off the desk. Kevin makes the world’s most indignant croak, which everyone rudely ignores, except Aaron, who rolls his eyes.

“He has a queen mark,” Nicky exclaims, brandishing Kevin at Neil. “What kind of frog has a tattoo?”

Neil stares at it, then sighs. “Okay. Sure. Why not. So it’s Kevin. How do you know it’s Aaron with him?”

“Kevin wouldn’t leave without him, so it had to be one of us,” Nicky explains. Kevin thinks this is an optimistic reading of his character. “Which already probably meant Aaron, but I’ve confirmed he’s the only one also missing. So.”

“How did this happen?” Neil muses, sitting down on Kevin’s bed. His bed is right there. Kevin strongly considers kicking him. Except he doesn’t have the right feet.

Almost immediately after he has that thought, his mouth opens—without his express permission—and his tongue goes flying, a projectile aimed right at Neil’s face.

Neil barely manages to dodge, throwing up his arms and falling backwards quickly enough that Kevin’s tongue narrowly misses his skin. (Thank God.) 

Nicky squawks, dropping Kevin, who thankfully lands on the desk. Aaron is watching Neil with interest. And Kevin—

Kevin is just pleased his aim and ability to forcibly correct Neil’s behaviour is still intact.

“Oh, gross,” Nicky complains. Neil looks relatively unruffled, though he shoots Kevin a slight glare before moving to his own bed. Thank you.

“Yep, that’s Kevin,” Neil mutters. “I wonder how Aaron got wrapped up in this.”

Nicky cocks his head.

“Assuming turning people into frogs is a real thing—which, okay, yeah—then I have to assume it doesn’t happen randomly,” Neil says. “And as annoying as Aaron can be—” Aaron rolls his eyes. Again. “—It’s gotta be Kevin, right? The reason?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Nicky says immediately. Which is so rude.

“Maybe they were together?” Neil muses aloud.

“Or it’s like a fairytale,” Nicky says. At Neil’s confused—and slightly judgemental—look, he elaborates, “You know, like, The Frog Prince! Or The Frog Princess! Or—that movie coming out, the Princess and the Frog!”

“This is too many frogs,” Neil mutters, but looks attentive. “So what’s the common theme? Other than frogs.”

“You know, normal fairytale stuff,” Nicky says, waving his hands through the air. On the desk beside Kevin, Aaron has gone still. It’s weird that Kevin can tell—it’s not like Aaron was especially mobile in the moments prior, after all—but paying attention to Aaron isn’t that big of a surprise, these days. “True love’s kiss, all that.”

Neil goes still too.

Aaron is looking at Kevin, gaze watchful, eyes intent.

Kevin looks away. Unfortunately, this means he’s looking at Neil, who is observing him with a calculating expression. At least Neil can’t expect a response, Kevin thinks. Small victories.

“Well,” Neil says. Kevin assumes he’s talking to Nicky—as strange as Neil is, conversing with a frog is probably out of even his realm of behaviour—but he’s still looking at Kevin. Ugh. “That might explain it.”

“Huh?” Nicky asks.

Kevin cannot look at Neil anymore.

Aaron is still looking at him.

“Neil frequently has bad ideas,” Kevin says, a pre-emptive defence.

“I don’t disagree,” Aaron says. It’s fucking weird. He’s a frog. Green and disproportionate legs—maybe he should try keep those when they get back to normal, Kevin thinks, suddenly daydreaming of a genuinely tall defence line; and then his thoughts shift a little to the left, Aaron’s knobbly knees but now they’re green and his calves are endless, pressing against Kevin, and wow, okay, Kevin is shelving that one before he gets too anatomically-confused, what the fuck—but still so Aaron. It still feels the same, him looking at Kevin, and now there’s something in Kevin’s throat to swallow past. He’s not even sure if he still has a throat, technically.

Neil and Nicky are still talking in the background, a buzzing noise that Kevin can’t focus on.

“Fairytales aren’t real,” Kevin says.

“We are frogs,” Aaron enunciates. Which is a reasonable counterpoint.

“This is ridiculous,” Kevin mutters.

“Kevin,” Aaron says. This is going to do something insane to Kevin’s dreams, he thinks, dismayed. Aaron croaking his name, and it being completely understandable. Life is so hard.

“Ugh,” Kevin says. His tongue goes flying past, apparently the frog equivalent of throwing one’s arms up in exasperation.

Aaron watches it go past, then looks at Kevin. If they were normal, he thinks Aaron’s eyebrow would be raised, or face tilted to the side, or something to that effect. People don’t think of either twin as especially expressive, but Kevin knows Aaron’s face, has mapped all its mountains and shifting planes. He misses it, suddenly, fiercely. More than the consistent pulse of exasperation and disbelief at their situation, the underlying desire to get back to normal. It’s an active, immediate thing: he wants to see Aaron’s face again, a deep-seated ache.

“Careful,” Aaron says. “If you keep throwing that tongue around, I won’t let you put it in my mouth.”

Kevin chokes. His tongue tangles itself on the way back into his mouth, his eyes bulge, and he makes a sputtering noise. Neil and Nicky don’t even pause their discussion.

If there’s a way for a frog to look calm in the wake of their friend (?)—also a frog—almost dying in response to an implication of flirtation, Aaron does.

“Aaron,” Kevin wheezes, once he’s got his tongue safely back inside his mouth and has reminded himself how to be a person.

“Kevin,” Aaron returns. He sounds so calm. So sure. And Kevin still knows him, down to his bones, but in this body, he can’t figure out his tells as easily. He can’t watch the movement of his knee, the furrow of his brows, the curling of his fingers into a fist. There’s no jaw to tighten, no hair to run his hands through, and while he still has eyes, they’re not ones that Kevin has memorised the way they soften.

“Is that a joke?” Kevin asks.

“We’re frogs,” Aaron reminds him. “We’re already the joke.” Before Kevin can decide how he feels about that, Aaron says, “Kissing you? Sure. Why not. Worth a shot.”

“Why not,” Kevin echoes. “Worth a shot.”

Aaron looks at him again. Kevin thinks maybe this is what it looks like for a frog’s eyes to soften, but who knows? Maybe he’s just looking for what he wants to see.

God, this whole thing is fucking ridiculous, but maybe the most unsettling part has been realising how much he misses seeing Aaron’s face. He’s gone longer without seeing it, obviously, it’s just—he’s never had to look at Aaron without it being Aaron. He can’t explain it better than that.

“Maybe I wouldn’t mind,” Aaron says suddenly, “if it were a fairytale.”

Kevin blinks. (Oh, that was weird.) He thinks that over.

“Oh,” he says, then smiles. He thinks he smiles. He’s not really sure what his mouth is doing. It’s unnervingly large in relation to the rest of his body.

“Oh,” Aaron echoes, but he hops closer. One hop. Two. His legs are very strong, Kevin notes, but then he stops thinking about it, because Aaron is really close.

Kevin cannot believe he’s maybe—probably—almost certainly—about to kiss Aaron for the first time. And they’re fucking frogs.

Kevin hops that last step, moving in closer.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Aaron says, rolling his eyes again. Kevin has never seen a frog do that before, though jury’s out as to whether that’s because normal frogs can’t, or because Aaron Minyard brings a level of exasperation previously unknown amongst the species.

Kevin leans in, and kisses him. It’s the weirdest sensation he’s ever had—their bodies are approximately 30% mouth right now, which is a lot to deal with—but then Aaron’s mouth is open a little, and Kevin’s weird, powerful tongue darts in and tangles with Aaron’s.

This is fucking insane, Kevin thinks, and then there’s a sudden whoosh of air through the room, and suddenly the desk crashes and he and Aaron are sprawled across each other on the floor.

Human.

And naked.

“Oh my god,” Nicky says. “You’re back!” And then, tilting his head at Kevin, “And naked.”

“We’re leaving,” Neil announces, grabbing Nicky by the elbow and tugging him out of the room. His expression is dismayed. “I don’t want to see you today,” he says over his shoulder, which Kevin would like to apply to Aaron, but probably mostly means him.

Aaron is beneath Kevin, which luckily means his modesty is protected, given his usual hangups (Aaron and Neil often tell Kevin that it’s not that everyone else has hangups, but that Kevin is entirely too open with nudity; Kevin largely ignores this); unfortunately, it does mean Kevin landed on him, and now he’s groaning.

Kevin gets off him, then looks at him. At his face. God. He missed that face.

“Why are you staring at me?” Aaron grumbles.

“After everything that just happened, that’s your question?” Kevin asks, incredulous. Fucking fond, because of course it is.

“Everything else has a root cause of you being annoying,” Aaron says. “This—”

Kevin leans in, cupping Aaron’s jaw with one hand.

Aaron shuts up.

“Take a guess,” Kevin says. His voice is – soft. Too soft to hide behind.

There’s so much going on Aaron’s face, eyes quick, expressive, roving all over Kevin’s, taking him in, figuring him out. Then his expression clears.

“You’re so annoying,” Aaron says, and then he surges up and kisses Kevin.

It’s much better, Kevin thinks, getting to do this as them.

[alcorian-cycle]

A hand clamps around the steel cables of his neck. Optimus feels fuel lines bend and crack. His frame is worn and abused, deep grooves littering his armor and plating torn up and turned out.

"Prime," Megatron growls. "Optimus." His optics are blazing red. He drags his enemy closer, pulling him up off the ground, until their helms clink together. "Orion," he says. His words are quiet, meant only for one.

Optimus' vocalizer is full of static when he speaks. "I have not been him for a very long time, Megatron," he rasps. "You know that very well."

It's as if Megatron hasn't heard him. "Come back, Orion."

Slowly, Optimus brings a firm hand up to cup the side of Megatron's helm. He sighs, deep and weary. "Would that I could, my dear." His voice and touch are soft and wistful.

Megatron narrows his eyes as his face twists up in anger and hurt. "You have a choice," he hisses. "You can come back anytime you want."

Optimus' mask slides back with a heavy click, and behind it, he is smiling a sad sort of smile. "I have a duty."

"A perfect excuse to shake off four million years," Megatron continues, his voice taking on a tinge of something desperate. "The matrix changed you. We were once--"

"Once," Optimus interrupts. He puts his hand over Megatron's where it is still clamped around his throat. A request. "In the past. Orion Pax is over."

Megatron releases him.

"I will find him," he swears. "I will kill you and I will find him."

[lazypanartist]

Mmmm.. hi.

Watched a bit more TFA while doing art assignments.

Lockdown x Police Drone Tech! Reader

🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚

Lockdown had hundreds of trophies from his various 'jobs'. Upgrades, helmets he'd found cool, weapons, a few photos.

And you.

He hadn't actually meant to bring you along with him. He thought you were different from the other organics, sure, but.. well. Just as tiny. A pawn, he had believed, for the police.

How wrong he had been.

Sure, you were employed by the Detroit Police Department to service their drones and other technology..

But you didn't seem too upset when Lockdown had grabbed you as collateral against the Autobots.

---

"Too small to just set with the other trophies," he mumbled to himself, holding you gently in his servo. "Or to get strapped down on the berth.."

He watched you out of the corner of his optic, your own little eyes roaming across his trophy shelves.

"What's with that one?"

He followed your gaze to a broken armament - a relic of a past battle with the Autobots.

"Busted weapon.. somethin' 'a one of those Cyber-Ninjas. The little speedster broke it in one of my last fights."

"Can I look at it?"

He held back a laugh. "If you're tryin' to escape, you'll have to do better than a busted holo-sword."

You rolled your eyes at him, and he couldn't help but smile. Oh, the character you were!

"I'm not trying to get away.. just want something to do. I'm sure it'll take a while for anyone to find me."

He shrugged, setting you down on the shelf. "Fine. Go nuts."

He hadn't been expecting to come back a few hours later to you snapping a panel back into place, the weapon looking almost good as new (save a few dents.. he was sure he could fix 'em later.)

"How'd you do that?"

You shrugged, fiddling with the connecting portion before the holo-sword materialized. "I was a drone tech. Good with finding problems and putting things back together."

"Was?" He sounded amused.

"Thought I was staying here for a while. Y'know, since nobody really cropped up."

He chuckled. "Well.. I'm sure I could use your help around here. Especially since more like that'll help." He nodded towards the now-functional weapon.

---

Prowl groaned quietly, rubbing his helm as he sat up. He jolted as he heard a familiar engine rumble, a warehouse falling away to reveal Lockdown's ship.

Attempting to stand or transform to vehicle mode both caused more pain than progress, and so he watched, solemnly, as the ship disappeared into the sky.

The chief was bound to be pissed that one of the department's assets had been kidnapped.

---

"Starshine!"

Lockdown walked into the ship, grinning as he tossed a barely-conscious bot onto one of the repurposed med berths.

"Lockdown! What happened?"

He presses a button, cables coming up to restrain his prisoner. "Autobot. Apparently the cons are looking for him."

You look down from your perch, surveying the blue and orange mech. "A data bot?"

"Better." He grinned. "A Prime."

💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤

I like this one. Might write more 🖤💚

[loveofbots]

Can I request a romantic MTMTE First Aid x Female! Bot! Reader? Where the reader has extra vents on her chest and First Aid is really interested in learning more about them but they are sensitive so First Aid tries to go further, but constantly gets interrupted?

Idk what you meant by interrupted but I hope this works ;v;

Warnings: Tiddy? Tiddy. First aid gets spike blocked

You and First Aid had been in a relationship for awhile now. He was an amazing partner, always caring and calm. And he loved you with all his spark. The medic admired you dearly, so when you two were alone in your hab suite his hands tended to wander. With all the gentleness in the world his hands found the vents on your chest. You had some more than what was common, and this fascinated the little mech. His curious mind always wanted to know your ins and outs, and by Primus did he know how to make you squirm.

First Aid's fingers combed lightly over your chest, making you shudder. A small giggle escaped him at your reaction, making you blush and turn your head away.

Knock Knock

"First Aid? Ratchet needs you in the medbay." Drift's voice called through the door. Your partner groaned and got up, duty called.

.........

"Frag..." You uttered. While planet side you got some gunk stuck in your vents and were just too clumsy to get it out. No tools would even work as the area was too sensitive. "Need help there Sweetspark?" Looking up you saw your mech trotting over across the medbay to see what the problem was.

Sighing in defeat you gave up your struggle. "I've got litter in my vents I can't get out, and it's too sensitive to use any pliers."

First Aid came closer to get a better look. Once he asked your permission he gave it a try. Skilled fingers danced along your vents, drawing a flustered huff from you. While yes, he was only helping. It looked like he was enjoying your little reactions as well. He slid off his battle mask, blowing the dust out of your vents. Jolting upright you arched your back struts, the temperature change too much.

"That was interesting~" Your lover smirked up at you, and went to tease you further.

"I KILLED SOMEBODY BUT IT WASN'T MY FAULT THIS TIME!!"

The two of you scrambled to look decent as Whirl bursted through the medbay doors dragging some beaten bot behind him. First Aid cursed under his breath, sliding his mask back on and tensing. Resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder was all he needed for you to tell him it was okay. Just as you passed the medic however, his sweet and low voice followed you.

"My hab suite tonight, I don't want any more interruptions."

[gun-roswell]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: CT-9904 | Crosshair, CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, CT-9901 | Hunter, CT-9902 | Tech, Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), CT-9903 | Wrecker, Batcher the Lurca Hound (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Poetry, Ficlet, Dialogue, Inspired by Fanart, Crack and Humour, Fantasy, Tooka Cats (Star Wars), Transformation, Be careful what you wish for! Series: Part 54 of Bad Batch One Shots, Part 188 of Poetry Shorts Collection (Various Fandoms) Summary:

There sure are a lot of Tooka Cats around… oh no, they’re the Batchers!!!

As inspired by fan art. Crack, humour, family feels, cats!

Part of The Bad Batch One Shots / Fandom Poetry series

Thar be Tookas in here!

[robobrainrot]

What’s Past is Prologue

An Earthspark Post-S1, Pre-S2 summary fic

If you were left unsatisfied by the jarring time gap and tone shift between S1 and S2, here's a mini fic to help fill the void. I'm going to write out the full version on Ao3. But this is the short and sweet summary~

It had been a month since The Battle of Witwicky. The Maltos are still picking up the pieces, both literally and figuratively. While they succeeded in their goal of defeating Mandroid, saving all Transformers on Earth, and quite possibly, the world as a whole, some things were left shattered. Most notably, Quintus Prime’s Emberstone. The pieces were scattered across the globe and, for a moment, Team Prime feared they would be lost forever.

However, Quintus Prime would never leave his chosen stranded. Prime Power or not, the kids did not give up hope. The shards of the Emberstone dispersed, but they were not lost forever. Starting right in their backyard, The Maltos found their first shard in the cow pasture… With the help of Fluffy-Ears, of course. Less than a week later, another was found by Breakdown while racing across the countryside with Bumblebee.

At first, the alliance between Autobots and Decepticons had been tense. Both sides were anxious that the other might sell them out or deceive them. But with the help of the newly declared “Malto-bots,” tensions eased. It was hard not to enjoy their company. It had been centuries since any of them had interacted with bots so young. It was refreshing to have such young and enthusiastic faces around.

Every day, the Maltos searched for more ways to find the missing shards. Some they stumbled across accidentally. Some ended up in museums- dazzling archeologists. Schloder and Optimus Prime had to be the ones to get those. Nightshade created a way of scanning for the shards, but their device’s range was limited so the scouting parties had to travel the world to identify possible locations. Did someone say road trip? The Trine were quick to point out that they were much better suited for the job thanks to the help of Skywarp’s powers.

Starscream had to admit, he was fascinated by these ancient Cybertronian artifacts. His volunteering to help the Maltos was not entirely altruistic. It was an opportunity to show off the superiority of himself and his fellow Seekers and gain knowledge about these strange crystal shards. That’s what he told himself at least. The fact that he often hoovered around the Malto residents when Hashtag was around, and Megatron was not, was purely so he could gather intel.

As for the Malto-bots, they enjoyed the month of relative peace. While not all the Decepticons were eager to become ‘friends’, the ones that stuck around would do their best to teach the kids something while they were there.

Breakdown was the first. Never one to turn down a chance to show off, he was happy to oblige Thrash when he asked for racing tips. He showed the young bot a few flashy new moves, including one that Robby insisted was called “The Akira Slide.” Breakdown maintained that it was a Stunticon specialty, and certainly not inspired by a cartoon.

Swindle tried to teach the kids how to override security locks at the junkyard, but was quickly shut down by Elita-One. He complained to Hardtop about what a wasted opportunity it was for three days straight.

Skullcrusher, Grimlock, and Jawbreaker formed a special alliance that Jawbreaker dubbed “The Beastie Boys.” They spent their down time sparing and seeing who could leave the biggest dent in scrap metal pieces.

Soundwave and his casseticons taught Hashtag how to utilize her radio to scramble comm frequencies. In return, she taught them about the wonders of the internet. This was a terrible decision, as Frenzy quickly became engrossed by internet subcultures. Soundwave had to step in with what Mo would call his “Mad Dad Voice.” On the bright side, the discovery of Kandi culture led to a group friendship bracelet making party.

Even Shockwave took some time to mentor the bots. Well. Realistically it was just Nightshade in the lab, but The Great Shockwave was cool enough that the other Maltos pretended to pay attention for half of his science monolouge.

The Decepticons started creating their own home base in between Emberstone shard scouting missions. Led by Starscream, with Shockwave as his Second, they found a suitable location far enough away from the former-GHOST base, but not so far away that it would be impossible to reach the Terrans if needed.

This was one area that walked the line of the treaty. The Decepticons were entitled to make a home on Earth. Optimus Prime respected their wishes on this matter. He instructed the other Autobots and Maltos to stay out as well. If there was going to be a chance at lasting peace, they needed to build trust. Many of the Decepticons had been imprisoned by GHOST for years. They deserved a safe space without surveillance as much as anyone. Freedom was the right of all sentient beings, and Prime would sooner go offline than go back on that principle.

There was still much they didn’t know. With every new answer about the emberstones came more questions. Between chaos and confusion, there was also stillness and affection. For these precious moments, both Autobots, Decepticons and Maltobots could enjoy the time of respite.

However, nothing really lasts forever.

[onewingedsparrow]

Six Sentence Sunday

Tagged by @novafire-is-thinking! Thank you! <3 I know this was a tag from a while ago, but here it is, finally, lol Rise of the Beasts has inspired me greatly, so I wanted to write something for it ✨ ~ Optimus stared intently at the projection Arcee’s visor was generating. Such a curious hologram it was—some sort of oblong, hunched-over being, with narrow but chunky appendages, and transparent protrusions on its back, boasting a fuzzy frame splashed with bold markings of black and yellow. “B,” said Optimus Prime, “what is this creature that you are showing me?” As the knobby horns of his helmet perked, the young bot straightened his back; his optics seemed to shine brighter as a soft, shy voice answered from his radio, “Bumblebee.” So this is what you spoke of, Optimus realized, as even this small piece of new knowledge transformed his entire perspective towards the name he had never before understood. He then touched a hand to his friend’s shoulder, fully aware of how his voice became huskier as he replied, “Your human friend chose aptly...’Bee.” ~ Tagging (only if you want!) @louwhose @maqiisan @afaroffsong @flutefemme @zelzenik and anybody else who wants to join ;) Also tagging @novafire-is-thinking in case you wanted to do this again! :D

[deadlifeseries]

Snowy nights in

Idk about y'all but I think that Prowl's room having a massive hole in the wall\roof would lead to problems in the colder seasons. Good thing ha has a big, warm, cuddly himbo husband uwu.

Some fluff from me to you, I wrote this inn aproximately two hours.

"You can have another room.. one with a roof".

If Prowl got a penny for every time he heard some variation of that statement he'd have nough money to actually fix the hole in the roof. But that would mean cutting down the tree, which is the whole reason he chose that specific room in the first place. It wouldn't be so bad, it was warm on earth and it let him admire nature up close.

Unfortunately he got a little more than he barganed for, because as time passed he realized that nature never stays the same for long. It started with the first time the rain flooded his room. But it only took a few adjustments for that to no longer be an issue. And then the winter came.

No matter how beutiful the snow was to him, and now much he enjoyed watching it fall peacefully, it unfortunately needed to be shoveled out. Of course Prowl was too proud and stubborn to admit that this created problems for him, no matter what he was insistant that he doesn't want a different room, even temporarily.

That was until a snowstorm hit. It was supposed to come much later or not at all, but it hit the city in the middle of the night. Prowl woke up to see his whole room being full of snow, well he saw it once he dug himself out of the massive snowpile on top of him. The cold didn't usually bother him, but the mixture of long exposure, moisture and wind made him cold to the point where he couldn't feel his hands.

He sighed and stood up. No amount of stubborn pride would keep him warm, and he knew he couldn't fall asleep again. He also didn't want to deal with the "I told you so coments" he would get for admitting defeat. So he went with his only option; going to Bulkhead's room. It wasn't uncommon for them to sleep together now so there was no more awkwardness in that regard. Which was good because if the painful nimbness in Prowl's extremidies meant anything it was that he really did need to find a way to cover the hole in his roof at least temporarily.

Prowl snuck through the base, everyone else had gone to sleep a while ago so he could walk pretty normally. As expected, Bulkhead's room was a lot warmer than his own. It wouldn't be the first time Prowl snuck into Bulkhead's room in the middle of the night to cuddle, he just couldn't help it, it was really nice to be held. It was the thing he never knew he was missing.

Now smiling slightly, Prowl was just about to get himself comfortable, but as his hand brushed against Bulkhead's side, jolting the bigget mech awake.

"mmmnnh, huh.... Prowl?", Bulkhead sat up slightly, clearly still half-asleep.

"Yes.. sorry, my room got flooded with snow and... I admit, it's a problem", Prowl kept his voice low, bitterly biting the bullet of admiting defeat. Luckily he knew that BUlkhead wasn't the type to make fun of him for it, unlike someon (*cough cough* Bumblebee *cough cough*).

"oh, no worries, you can recharge here with me", Bulkhead skooted a little bit to the side to give Prowl some room, and he once again flinched when he felt Prowl's icy cold servos. "Heh, your room must've been really turned into the arctic or something, you're freezing!".

Prowl looked away a little, "well, yes... that's why I came here".

Bulkhead smiled and wrapped his arms around Prowl, ignoring the frigid feeling. "Then I guess I'll just have to keep you warm, how does that sound?".

Prowl practically melted against Bulkhead's chestplate. It was warm, comfortable... safe. He smiled, gratefully accepting the embrace, soaking in the warmth and affection. "That sounds, incredible. Thank you".

Bulkhead layed back down, with his little ninja in his arms, "of course, anytime. I love you".

"I love you too".

______________________________________________________________

Prowl managed to figure out a way to keep 90% of the falling snow out of his room by hanging a tarp over the hole in the roof. But, anytime a particularly nasty snowstorm hit it always somehow "got torn down", leaving Prowl with no other choice than to ask BUlkhead to keep him warm.

"-sigh- you know that you can just come here and recharge with me without letting your room get filled with snow, right?". Bulkhead didn't mind having Prowl next to him the whole night, but at this point the excuse had gotten almost comical.

"I know... I just don't want to admit that my room isn't as good as i thought it was... mostly to Bumblebee", Prowl spoke honestly, he had to reason to try to lie to BUlkhead after all.

Bulkhead chuckled slightly, "yeah, I can see that one. And I guess it's nice to have you here, even if I have to deal with you touching me with your frigid servos". His tone was lighhearted if not a little teasing.

Prowl smiled "well, I'm very lucky to have you then. I don't think anything could warm my 'frigid servos' as good as you".

That made Bulkhead shut up immediately, a slight blush covreing his face as he grinned like a dork. "I, well... uhm, well I can't say no to that", he chuchkled, "fine, I'll keep you warm for as long as you want".

Prowl returned the smile, snuggling closer to Bulkhead, "thank you, I couldn't have asked for a better partner, you know that?".

Bulkhead got even more flustered at that, "w-well, I... you... I'm glad you think so. I don't want to dissapoint you, I admire you a lot".

Prowl leaned up, kissing Bulkhead gently while caressing his cheek, "I admire you, too. You don't need to be so hard on yourself, I love you just the way you are".

They layed there together, pressed close together. The storm outside was raging on, but in that room there was nothing but warmth. Maybe the hole in the room wasn't a problem after all.

[i-mean-technically]

Say no more my dude

Word: Feeling

Pairing: Optiratch

Ratchet could barely remember a time before he felt like this. Before his very spark, his very being, his soul, was consumed by the depth of what he felt for his Prime.

It was devotion at first, simply as a friend, before he was Prime. Then it was duty, and war pushed so it transcended their normal bonds to each other.

Ratchet's feelings were deeper than Earth's cold oceans, vaster than the ever expanding universe, more destructive than the black hole that would inevitably wipe everything out.

Optimus was Ratchet's Prime, first and foremost. There was nothing he wouldn't do for the god-touched.

But Optimus was Ratchet's even beyond that. And nothing could ever take that from them.

[cszine]

Our final reveal is our writer SuperNova / https://furaffinity.net/user/NovaLynxa , who is an anthro artist and writer of ficlets, fanfiction and comic projects.

[cosmics-beings]

i actually ship cyclonus and starscream very hard y'all. i just think that cyclonus can heal and be vulnerable for himself around starscream...at least in my aus with them.

[transingthoseformers]

SG Earthspark: Not sure if my the fic should be one AO3 work with each episode being one chapter, or 26+ multichapter works in a series, one work being one episode. I originally thought about having the main title be "Through The Shards Of A Broken Window" after a lyric from a Nico Collins song. But i've also recently thought about titling it "New Divide" after the Linkin Park song i saw a TFES edit of, because i thought the lyrics fit SG Earthspark's first season.

"In every loss in every lie / In every truth that you'd deny / And each regret and each goodbye / Was a mistake too great to hide / And your voice was all I heard / That I get what I deserve / .... / So give me reason / To fill this hole / Connect this space between / Let it be enough to reach the truth that lies / Across this new divide"

New Divide would be an interesting reference because iicr they used the song in the end of Revenge of The Fallen aaand it's a good song. I am biased. But, Through The Shards Of A Broken Window would be a good reference to it being SG and I can see the metaphors going on there

You can utilize both if you go the series approach, but that'd require you come up with a name for every episode which could be quite arduous