#Love's Train

[tha-wrecka-stow]

[madamshogunassassin]

Love's Train - Con Funk Shun

Song is from the early eighties but sound like it's from the early 70s. Love the Silk Sonic version too, but this is my jam.

[pickledpascal]

Love’s Train

Optimus Prime x Quinn Harlow

Optimus Prime Masterlist

Fic on AO3

× SOULMATE AU ×

Summary: Ever since Quinn was little, she was different from her peers. See, most of her friends started getting their soul mark around 14, when they meet the person they’re supposed to be with for the rest of their life. At 18, she was a part of Cade Yeager’s little team of rebels when Quintessa tried to join Cybertron and Earth together and still had no soul mark. She was an inventor who helped create better weapons for Bumblebee, Drift, and Hound.

After the danger passed, she was chosen by the Autobots to be a representative of sorts with the humans. They wanted to co-exist as peacefully as possible with humans but that meant Quinn had to put her dreams of going to college on the backburner. The most peculiar thing about it was that when holding a council with the Autobots, her soul mark started to burn on her inner forearm. A deep blue in cybertronian font.

General Warnings: Smut, bayverse story oops, includes bumblebee (2018), definitely not good descriptions of Cybertronian customs, Optimus is barely in here oops.... college shenanigans.

ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR. FIVE. SIX. SEVEN. EIGHT. NINE. TEN.

[djevilninja]

And if by chance, you let me come over; Out on the street, I want to see ya baby. And if by chance you let me just hold ya; I’m down on my knee, I wanna please ya baby, I… I’ll be your righteous lover….

Con Funk Shun - Love’s Train

*you don’t need no ticket to ride

[asteroidtroglodyte]

5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

10 years ago, I was watching my Potential and Opportunities dissolve and evaporate in an ocean of cheap gin and expensive whiskey.

But 5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

One of the exercises they had us perform was to imagine ourselves happy, 5 years in the future.

Many of us in that room had forgotten how to imagine nice things happening to them. A few snorted (well, I snorted), finding the notion that we’d even still be around in 5 years grimly humorous.

For about half of us, it was the last stop on the way down.

But I indulged the therapist. I was there, after all, because I did not want to die. So, I imagined myself, 5 years hence.

Happy.

It came to me all at once; an artistic remix on Norman Rockwell’s Freedom From Want, reframed with myself placing food at the table.

Sunday Dinner At My Place, I answered, when it came my turn to share my fantasy. I was asked what food I imagined eating.

It’s not the meal itself, I said, it’s the implications framed around it. Sunday Dinner At My Place means that I have a Place. It means that I have Family that will actually speak to me and friends who actually want to see me. It means money enough not just to feed myself but others too. It means having the time to spare to take the time preparing the meal.

A lot of nodding heads all around me. A struck chord. Many people with no Place, in that place. Nowhere that would lament their leaving.

5 years hence, as I lay down to sleep in my Home, with my Wife and my Son, surrounded by my Art and my Flowers, I reflect.

It was a long road. It was hard. We lost people. So many people. There were long days and long nights and hospital stays. Angry arguments with ghosts. I changed, in ways I never hoped for, or expected. Good ways, finally, for once. Slowly, against the backdrop of a world in chaos, I found my mind.

Sometimes, My Wife wondered aloud, what she did to deserve me. After some stumbling with my feelings, I eventually settled on an answer.

I’m a Rescue.

She gave me a Home.

And, so, I gave her a Family.

It seemed fair

This Sunday, my folks, which whom I have not had a shouting match in years, will come over for dinner. We will cook and eat together. My Friend became My Wife, and she took a piece of me and with it she made Our Son. There will be many hugs, and no violence. Good Things Happened.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t know what the future holds.

don’t give up yet, ok?

It could get good, even.

[0sbrain]

alternatives for ai to design ocs

hero forge

picrew

the fucking sims 4

your local furry artist

bitmoji

shitty photoshoped collage

DeviantArt bases

zepeto

making edits of your favorite character

searching "dress up game" on the app store

learning how to draw

[sadclowncentral]

a beautiful man with long black hair dressed in all white sat next to me on the train back from denmark. i complimented his outfit, and he asked me where the train was going. after i told him, he then pointed at my shirt which says 'catastrophe' and said "oh i know a lot about those." and laughed uproariously.

and then he asked me "do you know about norse mythology?" and i said yes a bit because i read the edda a decade ago, and he said "i met fenrir in denmark" and i said that's probably not good if fenrir is walking around. and he said "oh don't worry about it, vithar will take care of it" and i replied oh but that's ragnarøk, that's still pretty bad for us mortals is it not? and he grinned at me like i said something incredibly funny. and then he ignored me for the rest of the train ride?

[prinnay]

Zelda and Link, chillin' in transit

[happyheidi]

𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 . . <3

[cainternn]

deadpool and wolverine thoughts

[mindie-arts]

Training camp squad💥

[hansoeii]

the doctor on their way to steal your heart

[hinamie]

I don't want to regret the way I lived

[pickledpascal]

Love’s Train

Chapter One: 2014: A Memory

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1.1k

Love’s Train Masterlist

Next Chapter  |

Soul marks. They appear, either with a searing pain or you simply don’t notice them at all, when you meet your soulmate. Depending on where your soulmate might be from, it will be in their language. There’s this little urban legend that if the pain of your mark is strong then your bond with that person will last longer. Not everyone ends up with their soulmate. Sometimes they die or perhaps don’t end up choosing each other. 

It just depends on the person.

And as far as any human is concerned, no Cybertronian has ever had a soul mark or soulmate. Certainly not one that was human either.

It was during High School when Quinn learned that all the Autobots would be subject to exile. She never really cared as to why. They were the humans friends. Why would they do that to them? Maybe she couldn’t comprehend it when she was younger or maybe she did, her brain just wouldn’t let her agree with it. The Autobots fought for them and this is how they were going to be treated in return? Something in Quinn’s head screamed it was wrong.

She was fifteen, in her sophomore year when she learned the news. It was cast on the school news at 7 am sharp, like always. Her friends didn’t seem to care either way, although a little bummed they couldn’t have a self driving car. Quinn herself was a lot smaller in frame, her arms were weak with barely any blemishes on them besides a few freckles and one scar on her hand from an oven and her hair…. Well, it was its natural color–brown. Her green eyes were hidden behind some chunky, bright pink framed glasses that she would eventually hate.

One of Quinn’s friends–Jess–a girl shorter than Quinn that had dark curly hair, a deep complexion, and dark brown eyes, pursed her lips. “I mean, can you imagine having one of those bots as a car? You don’t have to drive yourself to school anymore! Just let it do it!” She said excitedly. 

“I’m sure it would be fun.” Quinn nodded solemnly, adjusting one of the straps of her backpack. “Get to talk to your car like a friend.” 

Rachel, another friend of Quinn’s, nudged her arm. “You already do that, Q.” She teased softly. She had long, straight black hair and almost whiskey-like eyes. “Red is just a little guy, we’re best friends!” She mocked Quinn’s voice, earning her a shove. 

None of them had their soul marks yet. It differed from person to person when they would get their marks but the average time was in high school, usually from the ages of fourteen to sixteen. They were all square in the middle of that range. Fifteen. Sure, there were people who would get theirs only after going to college but even then, it was like a weight was lifted. Their parents didn’t want their children to end up alone. There were extreme cases where people’s lives would end without ever having a soul mark. When it happened, it would be all over the news. Fear clutching onto the minds of parents.

Rachel asked with a light smile, “Okay but which one is the coolest? 3, 2, 1–”

“Bumblebee!” Quinn and Jess answered at the same time.

Rachel laughed and nodded, “He might be the fastest too. I mean, I don’t know what the truck one can do but I don’t think he’s that cool.” She shrugged.

Lots of things regarding the Autobots were classified. That meant Egypt was barely covered on the news, never even mentioning the Autobot leader at all. Optimus was meant to be a secret, one that only the most trusted of government agents would know about. All the public knew was that a blue truck with red flames was a part of the Autobots team even though they’ve never really seen him transform. 

“We don’t know anything about him so maybe he is.” Quinn pursed her lips as she fiddled with her shoes–they were all sitting on the floor in the corner of the main hall of the school. Her shoes were a simple black and white sneaker, nothing too special.

Jess laughed softly, “Not as cool as Bumblebee. He’s a fast car! What’s better than that?” She countered with a light smile.

Before Quinn could answer, the bell rang for the first period of the day. Her and her friends got up, waved goodbye, and went to their classes. They didn’t even know about anything happening outside school, the war happening in Chicago… yet again. But to them, that didn’t matter. What mattered was simple stuff. Getting good grades, not getting detention, learning to drive, maybe getting a new car, making sure you had an open parking spot–yeah, simple stuff.

Life would change, though. They would change and grow. Jess and Rachel would get their soul mark by the end of the school year, leaving Quinn behind. It was… weird. The sort of exclusion people without their soul mark had. It was like she was socially excluded from everything. She had to work even harder than one with a mark. And she did. Everything Quinn wanted to do, she excelled at. 

Gym wasn’t the best thing, though. It felt like torture, muscles aching after each period and then she had to continue like she didn’t want to just collapse in the middle of the hallway. But Quinn made it through. And she always would.

There were moments, times when she didn’t want to work so hard. Quinn wanted to be normal. She wanted a mark. She didn't care if she would see her soulmate again, she just wanted a mark. She wouldn’t have to get straight As or go through another look of dismay in her mother’s eyes. Quinn couldn’t take it. It was too much. She needed to escape somehow. 

Well. Cars were an escape. Her brother was one of the only people who treated her like a normal person. He had a small car collection going, one that he would let Quinn work on whenever she needed to. The only rule was that she couldn’t touch his Mustang. He was the only one allowed to work on it since it was one of the only cars he drove on a daily basis. And, well, sometimes when Quinn switched a part out, it wouldn’t work properly at first.

The only thing that would make it better in Quinn’s eyes was if she could work on a Cybertronian. She wanted to help but they were being hunted and she’d rather not endanger her family. 

Later down the line, maybe….