#but something about perceptor is making me like well i have to stay in the realm of reality for this science!!

[rifleseye]

I THINK THAT'S THE LAST I'LL BE TAKING OF THOSE FOR A WHILE.

[theredcuyo]

The cinnamon roll that i finally thought of how to add in the au :D

So, it was Sqq's idea (After he looked at Mobei, then at Yin Yu and asked the system "Hey, did Wuxian by a chance-"), like it tends to be, he thought how do you save a living corpse trapped in a mountain? Easy, get a necromancer!

He non suspiciously took Wwx to Buddha mountain, and hey, brother in law could you show me how your technique works out here, yk, without ghosts around that you already know? Does it work with animals?

And Wwx is like, no it doesn't, but if a corpse has enough resentment i can redirect it, then proceeds to use his flute for demonstration and bam! Wen Ning

Wwx is baffled and his brain is restarting for a few minutes (Sqq is having to fight Wen Ning in the meantime because that is a lot of energy that no one is controlling rn)

Then they take him back with them, Wwx has no time to explain his brothers what is happening ("A-Ying You did what to a corpse?!" "Dage you're not one to talk"), because he has to fix it

While he works, he asks his hubby, Lwj tells him what he already knew, the Ghost general was destroyed but then why-

Why is he here now? It's him! It couldn't not be, but then how-

When Wen Ning awakes, he tells him some of it, but however not enough, but it's fine, he's fine now, Wwx apologizes to him for what happened but Wen Ning doesn't really agree with that being his fault

Next up, he meets Wwx's brothers who take a look at him and decide nu-uh, you're not dressing like that, and get rid of the chains and give him new clothes, they tell him he's welcome to stay wherever he wants and that they'll make sure he's safe (Even if he's the Ghost general to everyone else)

But well, Wen Ning doesn't really know where to go, so he will still stay with Wwx for now, plus he can see A-Yuan now, he's very thankful to Hanguang-Jun for that but that doesn't make him more comfortable around the man

He's also not the most confortable around Senior Shen and his highness, yes, Senior Shen didn't mind fighthing him when they met, but still- They both are nice! Is just... Is just a little bit weird? They treat him like kind of cat? Like a skittish stray cat? Giving him treats (He doesn't really eat, so they changed to other things) the same time they're very careful, they don't seem very scared of him but...

You can't put them at fault, it's their first time seeing something like this, they're curious! From Xie Lian's perspective, even in his hundreds of years, he's never seen something like this before! Not only that but the way Wen Ning's body, energy and what he had of cultivation work is really interesting, the most similar thing are ghosts themselves and it's still very different, and hey, he's really good with a bow, he realized that soon, maybe even better than... Ah, he also knows medicine, isn't that ironic? For a corpse to be a doctor?

Sqq on the other hand, can't help it either, see this, Airplane? This are good ideas in a cultivation novel, you dumbass! Aside from that, it really is interesting, Wen Ning doesn't feel pain, and his body can be repaired without much fuss, he is strong, maybe too much? Could be connected to that thing he heard once about histeric strength? That it works because the pain perceptors shut down? Aiyah, if he needs to ever die again maybe he can ask Wuxian to give him a body quite like this too

[cozzzynook]

Brining back Rodimus's murder baby Tarn with a slight wholesome idea.

During a peace conference meeting Rodimus is barely staying awake as he listens to the never ending speeches of his fellow autobots as well as decepticons. He is about half way into recharge until someone suddenly speaks up mentioning that the DJD are here and are currently waiting outside, that causes Rodimus to suddenly wake up and get out of his seat to see what's going on. After stepping outside Rodimus barely has time to speak when he is suddenly tackled by a very giddy Tarn who is giving him a bear hug.

"Carrier! Did you miss me? I brought you a gift, its one of those amethysts gems you like to collect. I brought it for you since it's purple like me so you have something to remember me by when you go on long trips"

Meanwhile everyone except Megatron is just standing there in shock as they watch on. Perceptor almost seemed to crash when he heard Tarn call Rodimus Carrier, how-when did- of all mechs that's his grand bittie? While Megatron just simply rolls his optics and grumbles "He still hasn't out grown his Carrier phase...at lest Rodimus doesn't seem to mind"

And he doesn't Roddy is proud that Tarn has slowly started to heal and decided to try out new hobbies, he has Nickel to thank for that. Hopefully once the peace treaty is signed and Cybertron gets to heal, he can spend more time with big adopted sparkling.

You don’t know how happy i was when i saw this & how happy it makes me to read & see this!

I LOVE murder baby tarn & i love rodimus being his adopted carrier!!

Poor Percy is ready to blow a gasket thinking his bitty was sparked by some mech or femme & left behind & he didn’t know it.

And Megs is just exasperated because Tarn never got over his severe psychological issues & trauma & has now latched on tightly to Rodimus who doesn’t mind one bit.

Its literally spark stopping seeing the terrifying Tarn sit in Rodimus lap like a new spark taking a nap

[rinovarka]

Grimlock, Technobots, and Purpose

The G1 Transformers cartoon is mainly episodic and not indepth with its characters opting to focus on a wide cast and adventures. Some may say it was solely just to sell more toys and merchandise, and I can wholly disagree. But I can't wholly agree either. There are some ideas that stay ideas, or fleeting moments of the heart that make me tear up, or have stood the test of time as other people are able to recall.

And for me personally, one of said concepts is Grimlock and the Technobots.

Grimlock and the other dinobots were built by Ratchet and Wheeljack. In both cases, introduced to them by people of Earth, in enthusiasm to help the cause, as well as a general appreciation of the former rulers of Earth.

Sure, they were built to be Autobots to be brute force warriors, but also for the pure joy of an appreciation to the creatures of Earth's past. But purposely made with the assumption that dinosaurs were stupid, therefore they must be made stupid too. And it wasn't the grandest of starts for the first three.

Throughout the series the Dinobots are belittled and seen as lesser beings. Their intelligence and way of speaking mocked. Their loyalty shakey. They occasionally make remarks about their relation to the Autobots. They were made this way. And not even Wheeljack and Ratchet are immune to making jabs at them — and they MADE the Dinobots. To focus on what in front of you, to have innate instincts, to dig into the Earth, to be animalistic— primitive, less than a person, even.

Then fast forward past the Transformers movie where their creators get BBQd because Hasbro needs a new set of toys! And just so happens that the Dinobots are in good standing as far as sell-ability goes.

Then there is the episode, Grimlock's New Brain.This episode begins by really hammering it in how Grimlock wants to help but since he doesn't know as much as the other characters, is prone to mess things up. Something is missing. A brain. Que another scheme by Galvatron and co, and the bots are on the case.

He alone from the other Dinobots wants to take an active role in the Autobot ranks. And throughout, the Autobots let Grimlock know directly how they think the Dinobots lowly, Perceptor saying this with no shame to his face. And Grimlock affirms this by saying he bashes brains instead of having one. Because how else would he think, being told this time after time?

Grimlock in his pride, messes up their navigating device, exclaiming his frustration and accuses the bots of thinking him stupid and not wanting him.

Eventually, Grimlock gets hit with a spark of intelligence. And he sees the world beyond the way of his fellow Dinobots, able to problem solve and come up with plans, filled with the worries of the average Autobot and more. And his fellow Dinobots are dumbstruck with how different Grimlock is.

And he goes on to help the Autobots. Even at a point having Perceptor remark about being confused as to why he didnt think of what Grimlock had, the dino retorting Perceptor" having limited thinking "Because your mental abilities are so limited". Which of course is in regard to the situation at hand, but to me? Can be interpreted in how he regarded Grimlock beforehand.

The other Dinobots look for Grimlock. He goes and tries to get his Dinobot companions to help, to no avail. They dont like this new Grimlock, who looks down on them with big words and claws on hips.

And once more, he left, but not by the other Autobots but his fellow Dinobots.

Eventually in the heat of battle, Grimlock finds that his words and explanations have no time, no one can understand his plan in the situation he is in, and has no choice but to leave the Autobots and go Alone. And in this scene, he takes spare parts and creates a new bot, Nosecone. Who first remarks "Are you my father?"

Locking in, Grimlock has him transform, blah blah episode plot stuff. And Grimlock creates the other Technobots, designating Scattershot as leader, for "I wont be of use to you much longer", as if in knowledge of what he must do. And Scattershot is scared, rightfully so — he was just woken to life, unsure of the situation and not ready for whats to come. But the time has come and He Must.

And the Technobots go to battle against the Terrorcons, seeing the might of Abominus and fleeing. They return to Grimlock, and Grimlock lets them know — they are more than they think! And they transform into Computron. Who all intents an purposes is a big nerd with not enough brain power. Computron recognizes his unlimited potential but that even that is not enough. And Grimlock knows this. He always did.

Computron kneels. Grimlock dons on the helm without hesitation, placing it on the giants head. The manifestation of the "children" he has created. And Computron tries to refuse but is cut off by Grimlock. And for the greater good of all, for the Technobots' survival and success in life, he transfers all he had gained in one fell swoop. And in his waning intelligence, he says

"Me Grimlock says you smart now, me can no can help you anymore".

The Grimlock who made him is now gone, and the combiner goes and does what he needs to do.

And to me, it reminds me that of the Parent's Sacrifice. Grimlock gives up the potential of rising in rank, being seen as an equal or more than by his fellow Autobots. As some parents in life live and love and struggle against and rise against adversities. And midway, be it by plan or not, in non ideal circumstances, come to bear children. And in healthy situations, give their all, "giving up" their time money and freedom to raise them. But it is not truely "giving up" , done in loving sacrifice, to see that those before go much farther, and shine bigger and brighter.

And in the end of it all, we see Grimlock fishing with his fellow Dinobots in a lake, remarking how being smart isnt what its cracked up to be, and he likes being good ol Grimlock. And for once, the Autobots cheer.

And theres many ways one can interpret -- or rather, overthink this.

On a different path, Im reminded of the Love, Death, and Robots short, Zima Blue, which is one of the best sci-fi stories of ever in my opinion. I recommend watching the video before reading what I have to say, as I spoil the grand premise.

Anyway, its the story of artist named Zima Blue, known throughout the world for his poignant pieces and focus on the color blue. The art pieces get grander, yet his yearning for... something grows wider, and he sheds his humanity, revealing himself to a journalist that he is, in fact, a robot. One with origins of a simple pool cleaning—tile cleaning robot—whose job was to scrub pool tiles into the specific shade of blue, Zima Blue. Who was tinkered by a bright young mind, surpassing other robotic projects, over time evolving into the man he is today. Accepted in awe by all the world.

And yet, something was still missing.

"I will slowly shut down my higher brain functions, unmaking myself, my search for truth is finished at last. Im going home."

And to the world, he reveals his true nature, dons off his attire, and swims as a man one last time. The audience looks on with excitement for what was to be his final art work, only to look on with shock and horror as he begins to fall apart. And what would emerge? A little pool cleaning robot, a tile scrubber to be exact. And the crowd leaves, leaving the robot to scrub for the rest of his days. Alone.

And in the end, our main character, despite all the wisdom and experience acquired... chose to revert back to the simple pool cleaner, to spend his days scrubbing along the walls in what some may is a glorified container.

Some would be confused or balk at the decision, for why would he choose to live such a simple, dare I say primitive life, to that of a high elite of world reknown?

There is no shame in finding joy —purpose — in being what one is. Yes, there is the fact of being a tile scrubber whose objective is to scrub, of being a brute strong dinosaur who likes to fight and fish can be seen shame. Of not being as intelligent, of not being as certain way as society seems fit. And while one has the capacity to change, there is no shame of being happy of who one is and embracing it with those who understand--

--To have that dont cheer/look on from a distance

--and To be what one is and am, and that is enough.

In the end, the Technobots are their own people, functionally adults with knowledge and fighting prowess. Grimlock shows no real attachment or regard to the Technobots, as they also do the same. As I said, G1 tends not to be super character focused and is episodic, the next episodes never following up on this. And while I havent seen all of G1, I can assume that they dont really interact after this episode, Grimlock having the Dinobots, the Technobots having each other, both groups being loud and proud about themselves.

But I have to wonder, if Grimlock ever looks at the Technobots from a distance, just for a little moment. Or if Wheeljack and Ratchet would be proud, if they could've been there, to see how far their creations have gone, with nerd dork grandchildren to boot.

[theoceanoasis]

More deity Hot Rod/Rodimus please?

"What are we going to do now?"

He put a protective hand on his belly feeling scared. Now that everyone knew who he was. He worried about his little one.

"We'll figure something out I won't let them hurt you or our sparkling."

Soundwave's cassettes came running over looking proud of their distraction and also wanting to know what happened.

"Hot Rod is sparked."

The Decepticons looked at him in shock and then congratulated them.

"I don't know if you two were told or not, but we've learned some interesting information. Some of the Hot Spots have suddenly activated."

"People think you are responsible which is crazy because you weren't even on Cybertron."

They glanced at each other and Ravage frowned.

"How did-?"

"It's complicated."

"They're looking for you right now."

"We also have some bad news."

"What is it?"

"They don't want you leaving Cybertron anymore. They've decided you can't be captain of the Lost Light and are planning on destroying the ship to keep you here."

"What!?"

Even though he knew there was a chance that might happen it still hurt. The Lost Light was home and the people on it were his family or at least he thought so.

"What do you want to do now?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to stay on Cyberton."

"I think that's a good idea. It seems like they want to lock you away in some temple."

He shivered hating that idea.

"I need to grab some things from the Lost Light and then we can find a ship. It's obviously too dangerous to stay here. Not only are they after me, but when they realize I'm sparked. They'll be after my sparkling as well."

"We're with you, whatever you want to do."

Soundwave's cassettes helped sneak them back onto the ship. The crowd outside had grown since that morning and even inside his room he could hear them calling for him. Demanding he let them use him.

Rushing around he grabbed whatever was important to him. He didn't notice he was crying until Soundwave wiped his optics.

"Hot Rod? Are you okay?"

"No. This was my home and now it's gone."

Soundwave pulled him close and he sobbed. His spark breaking at the idea of leaving the Lost Light and the family he'd created.

He wished he could turn back time or at least make them all forget. He hated being a deity. He didn't deserve to be worshipped not after Nyon. Not after he failed to protect them.

There was a knock on the door and he tensed. Soundwave pulled him closer and the cassettes went to answer it.

"What are you doing here?"

"I know Rodimus is inside. We need to talk."

"You've done enough."

"It's important."

They pushed past the cassettes walking into his room. He felt his powers start to activate worried they'd take him by force.

He looked at his ship's high command. The people he trusted the most who now stood before him.

Perceptor stepped foward and to his surprise he hugged him.

"I'm sorry Rodimus. I should have noticed the way you were being treated... I always get caught up in science and my experiments I forget what's happening around me, that people have feelings. I thought you were okay with everyone treating you like some kind of deity. Which is why I ignored it when I shouldn't have. I should have told you this doesn't change anything. You are my captain and my family. In some ways I see you as my child. Even though I have not protected you these past few weeks like I should have."

He felt tears fall and he buried his head against his shoulder crying. Perceptor just held him as the others came over apologizing as well.

Drift gave him a guilty look and Ratchet nudged him clearly unimpressed with his Conjunx behavior. Drift guilty pulled him to the side and the two of them talked it out.

Which ended with them clinging to each other and crying. The others joined them and he smiled. Years falling because it felt like he had his family back and that they hadn't abandoned him.

"We've talked to the rest of the crew and they are also sorry. None of us want the Lost Light to be destroyed. This is our home and we're a family. We should have sticked by your side. Instead of treating you differently because of our own beliefs."

"We want you as our captain and we promise to stop treating you like a deity."

"Will you accept or... Is it too late?"

Magnus gave him a worried look and he squeezed his friends hand.

"As long as all of you don't treat me differently. I'm happy to be your captain."

They all hugged each other again before gathering the crew. It wasn't easy but they managed to sneak onto their ship. Barricading the doors in case anyone realized what they were doing.

He stood on the bridge waiting for take off with Soundwave by his side. He squeezed his hand and Soundwave pulled him closer. The two of them watching at the ship lifted off quickly leaving Cybertron behind.

He didn't know what the future had in store for him but as long as he had his family. He knew it was all going to work out. He put a hand on his belly and looked at Soundwave who nuzzled him. Both of them excited to see what the future had in store for them.

~The End~

[quietbluejay]

Spotlight: Sixshot

blorbo time!!!!

<3

we see various scenes of destruction and Sixshot

he looks out the window at the stars

"…time crawls"

he continues staring out the window

Sixshot: In the lulls, there's nothing to distract me from a void I can never hope to fill. I feel...nothing

Sixshot: Not rage. Not duty. Not a sense of self. It's not me staring into the abyss...

"...I am the abyss"

you've messed up a perfectly good cybertronian is what you've done. Look at him! he's got depression

he basically only stays with the decepticons because, well, nowhere else to go he's guilty of multiple genocides

au where it's sixshot instead of megatron going after the knights of cybertron to judge him

friend: those decepticons who got killed dealing with Thunderwing because they assumed self preservation would be just as much of a death sentence because of Megatron's general policy about disobedience/the DJD the way Megatron makes leaving or even taking issue with things within the decepticon faction such a soul crushing ordeal to stamp out any will to disobey him

bluejay: it's just easier to…not the amount of resistance against change

friend: but there's this recurring layer of learned helplessness to the point only the ones who've made violence and cruelty their sole joy in life are actually enjoying their lot in life

notes from future bluejay: you know what I'm feeling the Betrayer in this chilis tonight

oh ugh these guys

Sixshot goes and talks to terrified purple guy here to ask where the Terrorcons are

"Let me see what I c-can find out."

the Terrorcons went in and never came out

and the word is, Mumu-Obscura...

"…has fallen to the Reapers!"

you know, roberts or barber could have picked up the reapers as an endgame villain

friend 1: jlk;ajfsdkakfd he's so starved for socialization that he's looking out for the terrorcons bluejay: the only people who willingly spend time near him friend 2: his only friends are serial killer fans but for the things he doesn't like doing and wishes wasn't his only job ever

note from future bluejay: man the longer i spend rereading this one the more i want to stick Sixshot in 40k

but there's a bit of fact within every legend

"...they take no prisoners!"

a bunch of surface-to-air missiles are coming towards him

"no way around them so..."

i love this one i know im just weak to explosions but it's a very good explosion and very evocative

Sixshot flies down towards the planet's surface

"That said, where I consider myself something of an apt pupil when it comes to the gospel of apocalypse...

he quickly goes through the info he has on reapers and figures all the accounts are gross understatement

friend: he's also surprisingly philosophical bluejay: he manages to walk the edgelord line friend: like even accounting for early furmanisms this is very much more sophisticated then nightbeat's narration bluejay: which is a very fine line to walk and not go full edgelord friend: he reads like a depressed scholar which is what i think lets him pull it off

he doesn't do pointless destruction, or like, this level

nuke it AFTER you take their stuff and then melt down the nuked stuff for spare parts

he goes winged wolf mode

Sixshot: The reapers seem to go out of their way to leave behind them a dead world in every respect

"...of the reapers!"

we seem some outlines of various aliens

Sixshot: one of two of the species...

Sixshot narrating: it's what they were built to do

Reaper Dude: At long last…we meet. Welcome, Sixshot. Welcome to our world.

(heh, anyone else hear Sixshot with a specific accent now?)

that is an extremely blorbo thing of sixshot to say

Sixshot starts firing

Sixshot, in dialogue: fine by me!

he transforms

"I got a whole caseload of tricks!"

also i like this because it shows Sixshot isn't just a world killing machine, he does have an actual brain

he takes out the ground under them first

this is very "make the shot and brag to Perceptor about it later"*

*something Prowl thought in the Costa run

"The others take their best shot!"

"they're fast…and furious"

claws make marks on sixshot's metal furman furman i am facepalming never mind that i do the exact same kind of stupid writing references

narration: things...escalate

there's a lot of fire flying around

"And I realize, grudgingly, they're toying with me. Or perhaps…"

friend: ravenous the metal raven bluejay: i just have the flattest face i hate this pun so much but at the same time i have to acknowledge that is exactly the kind of thing i would do

"testing me"

"Whatever the case, the battle appears to be over"

the fires die out

also i didn't put it here but me and my friends spent some time thinking of fix-it aus for sixshot and i stumbled across the scavengers!! he would work so well with them also

sixshot: i've only had misfire for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him i'd kill everyone and then myself

Sixshot: and now?

This Dude: Now, instead of waging war…we seek to end it forever

Sixshot looks over at the devastated world

Sixshot: Aaand...this is how you go about it, eh? I gotta tell you, this grand plan of yours - whatever it is - still has a few, ah, rough edges

i like this a normal amount

friend 1: so the Reapers are what happens when multiple civilizations make a bunch of world destroying WMDs and they get fed up with taking orders but still keep up the world destroying because it's all they know friend 2: sixshot understands that destruction isn't what he wants out of life friend 1: The WMDs have unionized bluejay: 'we're gonna destroy war by destroying everything' sixshot: press x to doubt

Sixshot gives them an extremely judgemental look, and props to the artist for it

they ask Sixshot to join them

"All you have to do, to prove you have truly cast off the shackles of your old life..."

he points to the Terrorcons

"...is eradicate these five"

Terrorcon: who? us?

Sixshot looks down

Terrorcon: what? No...you wouldn't

Terrorcon: Sixshot - c'mon! We have a bond. You don't need these misfits. You already got...er...

Different Terrorcon: Us misfits

First Terrorcon: Yeah. Right?...Right?

he fires a few times, there's some big clouds

he lands, goes to tank form, then fires again

Sixshot: it's times like these…

his guns are smoking

the Reapers turn and walk away

so yeah that's sixshot underutilized blorbo

honestly these guys would have really fit in with Barber's themes about cycle of violence, I'm surprised he didn't use them

friend: they'd fit into the later recurring theme of people fed up with war wanting to rebuild better vs the ones who think it's a lost cause and everything needs to be destroyed

[toyotacorolla2008]

hi!!! i was wondering if you could do a tutorial for how you draw transformers? i can never simplify them like you can. do you have any tips?? also love your art sm <33

hi ヾ(•ω•`)o

I WILL TRY MY best to explain what i do… i don’t actually have a very structured system but this is vaguely how i got started and how i simplified the process

1. look up and compile a whole bunch of references

this will be useful for EVERYTHING– transfomos come with lots of shapes and gizmos and details and stuff so a variety of references from different angles and in different poses is really useful because you can see the shapes they’re made out of and also understand how everything connects with each other

trapezoid town! this is a mess but it’s a quick example of how by looking at everything you start to notice trends or details like what moves with what or how flexible some parts are

there are a whole bunch of resources very nice people have compiled on the web like here here here here and here (mainly MTMTE) and there is a discord server (this is a link to a tumblr post about it and not the invite link itself) for it too but you can always look through the source material and just start screenshotting and pasting shit into a folder. 

you don’t have to do humongous in-depth breakdowns if you just want to be able to quickly doodle robots (god knows i don’t!!) but having the references on-hand makes it easier for the times when you’re like This pose is going to be challenging and I’m not sure how all of the cuboids will be positioned.

references also help break you out of thinking of it as just drawing blockier humans because the proportions and shapes vary a looooooot

2. draw draw draw

at first i drew a lot using refs heavily to get an idea of the shapes then i got lazy and just started drawing anime girls and smacking rectangles and kibble on top BUT as you draw more and more you start to pick up on the Salient Features as well as their General Silhouette.

drawing from memory means that what makes them look recognisable will become more emphasised in your mind so you’ll naturally pick up on how you can simplify them without losing what makes your guy Look Like Your Guy. so if you want to simplify the robots just be incredibly lazy like me B)

i'm kind of horrible because i don't even do like Basic Shapes i literally just eyeball it

for poses i rectangle it out while thinking really hard

anyway when i first tried to draw transformers but Something Didn’t Look Right it was either a) the level of detail across the entire drawing was inconsistent and threw it off balance or b) proportions weren’t right and these things only got better with me finangling and doodling and learning by iteration.

of course sometimes i don’t give a fuck because no cops in transformers doodle land but yeahhhh i’m the kind of guy who only gets through stuff by throwing a lot of rocks at it. i don’t have a Method to offer you unfortunately but what i did do was

3. experiment and exaggerate and experiment!!

The First Rule of Gun Safety is to Have Fun and Be Yourself! i took a lot of liberties and rarely stayed on-model when i doodled and waffled around (and i still do…) but it helped me figure out how much i was willing to draw lol and consequently how i would stylise them.

i would play with how big or small or exaggerated or expressive they'd be… even my most detailed drawings are nowhere near comic-detail but my least detailed ones were. turquoise triangle that’s vaguely brainstorm-shaped. having fun with it and just doing it to make stupid jokes makes the practice seem like not practice.

so yeah tl;dr i started by reffing what bots actually look like, would trace comic panels to get an idea of the shapes and details and then start drawing side-by-side → drew billions of perceptors from my diseased mind and played around with lines → ??? → upgraded from goofy-looking rectangles to goofy-looking rectangles

that’s it for advice! (i don’t feel qualified to say that much)

below are just examples of stupid doodles i’d make on my ipad in class or in the margins of assignments lol, you can tell the last one is from when i still didn't understand brainstorm's build very well because the wings are placed wrongly... But i grew.

hope this was somewhat helpful! there are other tutorials from other artists that i can direct you to but this is how toyotacorolla2008 got to shitposting on tumblr dot com

[minorisato]

wavering, a flashback, before my eyes!

transformers, original work / NA / wc: 997 / warnings: NA / notes: experiment on that guy lets go

“You’re in shockingly good condition,” Perceptor nods. “It’s rare to see human-done repairs to Cybertronians turn out so… clean.”

Betamax nods. “Yes, my sister did a very good job repairing me. I suspect I wouldn’t be here today if not for her.”

Perceptor makes a note on his datapad. “No, I suppose not. You’re quite lucky she possessed the level of skill required to repair you.”

As the two talk, Brainstorm, at the opposite end of the room, reads the patterns going off in Betamax’s processor. “See, this is very fascinating,” he announces, gesturing to somewhere low on the screen. “You can see him forgetting things in real time. Any memory file from more than seven years ago seems to have…” he waves a servo. “About a 73% chance of being deleted. The chance gets higher, the more time passes, but it doesn’t seem to ever reach 100%.”

Perceptor nods again, tapping more notes into his datapad, glancing up for only a second. “How old is the oldest memory?” He asks, making his way over to his lab partner.

“Oldest memory is from about 13 years ago, but the file itself is only a few seconds long.” He points to a different screen. “See, every 42 minutes or so, his processor randomly decides whether or not to delete it. That happens with all memories over seven years old– that one, in specific, has just been getting really lucky.” He shifts, pointing somewhere else, now. “See, there–”

Then, suddenly, the screen goes dark, and the readings stop coming in. The scientists snap around to see Betamax, holding onto the cable that had previously been attached to his helm. He simply wrenched it out.

“I just remembered,” he explains, frantic, “I agreed to meet up with the others at Swerve’s almost twenty minutes ago.” He practically throws the cable to floor, making his way out as fast as he can. “I’m so sorry, I won’t be able to stay for the rest of the tests. Maybe tomorrow.”

Both scientists stare at the doorway in shock as Betamax speeds out, and it’s only after he’s already gone that Brainstorm manages to grasp himself, attempting to chase after him. “Betamax, wait!” 

Perceptor resets his optics. “Does he know,” he asks, though he isn’t asking Brainstorm, necessarily. “He knows that just yanking cables out is bad for you, right.”

Brainstorm invents, exvents, and shrugs. “If he doesn’t, he’s gonna figure it out really quickly.”

~~~~

Betamax is acting weirder than usual. It does not take a genius to notice this, which makes Psyber question why no one else has picked up on it.

He’s joking around like he usually does, with their little group they’ve accumulated, and that’s all well and good. What is distinctly not well and good is that every now and then, he’ll throw out something completely unrelated to the conversation, and act like it’s the most reasonable response he could come up with. His helm would jerk, or he would twist in a strange way, and if it was only once or twice that’d be fine, but it’s happening consistently enough that it’s surpassed strange into worrying.

After Betamax brings up Earth mammals for the third time, Psyber decides that hy’s had enough, grabbing the tape player by the arm and dragging him out of the bar.

“Where are we going?!” Betamax asks, as he’s pulled through the ship’s halls.

“You,” Psyber starts, “are going to talk to Ratchet, because you are being stupid and crazy and I am worried about you.”

Betamax scoffs. “I don’t need to talk to Ratchet. I don’t even know the purpose of beehives.”

Psyber groans. “That’s why you’re going to talk to Ratchet! ‘Cause you keep saying weird nonsensical bullshit like that!” Hy huffs. “I know you have memory problems, but you aren’t stupid, c’mon.”

When they finally do reach the medbay, Ratchet takes one look at the tape player and groans. “I promise he’s fine,” the CMO says, before they’re even fully in the door.

Behind hys visor, Psyber glares at him, shoving Betamax towards the medic. “I promise he is not fine because I know what fine looks like for him, and it’s not this!” Hy folds hys arms. “He’s saying things completely unrelated to any conversation out of nowhere, and he keeps twitching and moving in weird ways, and like, normally he isn’t this bad. He doesn’t do that. Make him stop it.”

Ratchet sighs, turning to Betamax. “Did you hit your processor or something?”

“Can you take this seriously?!”

“You,” he points at Psyber, “hush. Betamax, did you do anything out of the ordinary today? Something that might impact your processor, in any way?”

It takes him a second, but Betamax does nod. “Perceptor and Brainstorm were running some tests on my memory files, and such. They had inserted a cable into the back of my helm, in order to connect to my processor.”

Ratchet nods. “And were there any complications, or anything? Nothing going wrong, Brainstorm didn’t install anything?” As Ratchet spoke, Betamax shook his helm. “They unplugged you properly?”

At that, the tape player paused. “Properly?”

Psyber grimaced. “Beta…”

Ratchet rubbed his helm. “When you disconnect a cable from someone’s ports, there’s a safe way to do it to ensure no damage is done to their internals. In this case, to make sure no damage was done to your processor.” He looks down at Betamax. “They unplugged you properly, right?”

Betamax glances down at the floor. “I unplugged myself, actually.”

“And I’m assuming you just yanked the cable out.”

Betamax feels himself flushing a bit. “Yes, sir.”

Ratchet sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That explains it.” He turns to Psyber. “He’s fine, his processor is likely still just jumbled from the cable being improperly removed. Give him a few hours and he’ll be fine.”

Psyber huffs. “Thank you for your wisdom, oh wise old-timey doctor.”

Said doctor scoffs, turning away from the pair. “Get out.”

[silver-03]

-End of the World Scenario-

-MTMTE x Human Reader-

• The bots are stuck on a world with no escape, the Lost Light is down, drained quantum engines have them stranded on a desolate planet right in the range of an oncoming dying sun going supernova any minute •

• Rodimus: To say the least, Rodimus was in an initial state of panic. Trying to get his crew to calm down, especially those with PTSD of Cybertron’s war days. However, things got worse. Some had chosen to.. offline themselves in the panicked state they were thrown to. Unable to comprehend the horrid end coming to them. Others had gone to drinking, which was most. The chaos was gone for the moment as the end neared. Swerve’s bar was full with drinks going around and Rodimus was trying to find you. Hoping that no one had killed you amongst the panic or you had done something drastic. He found you outside, on the roof of the ship where it was a common place for bots to go stargazing. You had enjoyed it there as well, he should have known you had come here. The atmosphere was hot, but not hot enough to where you would be sweating. The fiery captain would sit beside you as your empty eyes stared out to the oncoming disaster. “You know,” You began. “I never imagined it would come to an end like this.” There was a flash from afar, signaling there wasn’t much time left. “But I’m glad I got to spend these last few minutes with who I love. With all the stuff we’ve been through together.. the happy times, sad times, everything. It’s all come down to this.” Rodimus showed concern in his optics, he may be pretty heat resistant himself, but the blast of a supernova was too much for even himself. Not even their beloved ship would probably make it. Brainstorm and Perceptor had tried to do what they could with their science, but there wasn’t enough time to come up with anything solid. “Y/N, I wish it didn’t have to end like this. I wish we had more time to enjoy each other’s company.” He said quietly. His usual happy attitude was gone, replaced with remorse. Rodimus blamed himself, he had chosen to come here and now had the energon and blood of everyone on board on his servos. It was his fault, a constant failure. That was his processor currently, but he had to stay strong for now. For you. You climbed into his lap, which he would respond with cradling his arms around you in a tight embrace, not tight enough to hurt you but enough to limit your movement. “I love you, you know that, right?” He whispered, tears forming in his optics with the impeding doom about to hit. The temperature was only increasing around them, and he could feel it. His cooling fans would do nothing, not even click on since he knew it’d be useless. “How could I forget?”

•Ratchet: The medbay was a little full with the bots that had offlined themselves as their situation had weighed down on them. There was nothing he could do to help them, but their frames had been moved there so wherever they had been, they wouldn’t be disturbed. Currently you were with Ratchet, watching him place the last one down in a comfortable position. Their servos placed over their midsection, folded over each other. So peaceful yet.. so disturbing to see. You were used to the chaos of the medbay by now but this seemed to take a toll on you. The sudden death that lingered in the halls and in the hot air. Ratchet looked up to see you staring at the last bot he had placed down. He moved to your side and gently tapped the bottom of your chin to look up at him, pulling you from your emotionless trance. A gentle distraction. “Y/N, don’t focus on them right now. They chose this.” He said lowly. Right now he lacked the strength to call them cowards and anything of the sort for ending their lives so soon. Then again, it was harsh to say that. He understood their panicked state and impulse to do this. It reminded them of their last days of Cybertron and the horrid war that plagued them. You saw Ratchet’s grim face and nodded gently. Tears were at the edge of your eyes as he outstretched his hand, to which you climbed on. The old medic picked you up ever so gently and held you close to his chassis with both his servos, as if shielding you from the heat, to no avail. Even inside the Lost Light, it was getting hot. Ever so slowly. He brought you to his habsuite, letting you step down onto his berth as he sat on the edge of it. He knew there was no escape from this. Unless they could get under the earth, deep into its crust to avoid the heat. There just wasn’t enough time. “I’m sorry.” The medic said, his optics dimmed slightly. “This shouldn’t have happened. I could have.. done something differently. Anything.” Your eyes scanned over his beat frame, exhausted and his mental state crashing down on him. “Ratchet, we can’t do anything to fix this. I’m just-“ You stopped a moment, feeling a cool tear running down your flushed cheeks. “I’m glad that we spent this time together, every second of it.” Your words calmed him ever so slightly, of which he responded by gently wiping a tear from your face. He could tell your body was slowly exhausting itself as you didn’t have the luxury of cooling fans like his kind did. “I am too.”

• Megatron: “After all these years of war, this is how our lives end. From a supernova. How grand.” Megatron’s voice was low as he stared straight into the light of their demise. The both of you were sat in the command center of the Lost Light, watching the red sky turn lighter and lighter. After several attempts of trying to get the systems back online, it failed. He thought maybe he could try one last attempt to redeem himself and save his crew. However, he should have known his bad luck strike was still ongoing. “Really going out with a bang here.” You said, your voice scratchy after yelling in fear earlier. A crazed bot had tried to kill you, blaster forced into your body to crush you into the ground. But before they could fire, Megatron had thrown him off you. And before he could properly deal with them, they offlined themselves. So he brought you here, after helping you bandage yourself. Even though you denied the offer. Megatron insisted to keep you comfortable, no matter how ‘useless’ it seemed. He didn’t care if it was a waste. The two of you were huddled together on a chair, you sat on his shoulder while the two of you watched out the window. “Y/N, I must apologize for my behavior when we first met. For a clear conscience.” The grey warlord said, his voice lowered. “I was rude and my actions towards you were uncalled for. Being so cold and irrational in any given situation. But now I understand what Prime meant all this time. All life should be treated as equals. No matter how different we may be.” He said, turning his stoic face to you. Having no need to hide his emotion behind a mask. Even though his expression seemed the same as always. “Thanks for apologizing at least, its a great time to let out all those hidden emotions. Clear consciences in a time like this is good.” You said in response, gently tracing a seam in his thick armor. He seemed to grin to himself, making an amused huff. “You know, I haven’t shared all my poetry with you. I wouldn’t mind sharing it with you now.”

Let me know if I should continue this scenario with more bots! Sorry for the sadness qwq

[pastelgrungewrecker]

Hypnagogic Hallucination || Sg

I can wait for you at the bottom I can stay away if you want me to I can wait for years if I gotta

[”I’ve always been business before pleasure. Not sure what you think you’re gonna get out of me.”, says the madman machinist as he lifts a champagne glass to his lips.

“Maybe I’m suggesting they can exist as an intersection instead of a parallel?”

Brainstorm pauses, locking eyes with his conversation mate in the dim yellow light of a bar that looked like something out of a golden age movie.

“...And what did you say your name was, again.”

“Call me Skids. I’ll leave you my... contact info, QS Brainstorm. Drop me a line sometime.”]

Whirl didn’t like him. Part of it was, no doubt, jealousy- he and his ang- Boss had been getting closer, coming to a more even and equal keel since the rewrite of his contract and then this.... Usurper had decided to waltz in and now everything felt wrong.

Whirl swallowed the growl in his throat as this Skids person had the audacity to waltz into the kitchenette like he owned the place- neck smeared in marks and bites and chest not faring much better.

“Good mornin’.”

“Wow, you spoke to me! Progress.”, laughed Skids as he reached by Whirl for the coffeepot. The intruder in Whirl’s space froze, feeling the the silent rattle of prosthetic hands that wanted nothing more than to cinch shut.

“Allow me sir. I insist.”

“Uh- sure. Not a problem.”

The silence was palpable and broken only by the clink of a mug boasting all the signs of handmade and expensive.

“So.”, began Whirl, his voice low, “Who, exactly, did you say you were under the employ of?”

“Ah, hm. Well, I am... an agent of the New Institute of course.”, was the answer, and Whirl felt the sly tone wrapping around the words like serpentine hypnosis, “An academic, like your... boss. Shared interests, you see. I’d heard about his work, become fascinated by it really, and now here we are.”

“Heard of his work, hm?”, asked Whirl, his voice unnervingly calm.

“Yes, why?”

Whirl handed a mug of steaming coffee to Skids, his smile not reaching his eyes as he tilted his head.

“Well, I would like to have a list of your sources, Skids- it’s concerning you’ve heard talk of his work given how every project he heads or takes on is immediately classified unto redacted from official and unofficial record. If there’s a leak, I should plug it.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get back to you on that.”

Whirl watched Skids retreat, noting the way his steps were silent, the way his body was tense yet fluid at the same time. He squinted, unsure. Against his preference, he reached up to tap his comm and called a line-number he’d pinged twice a day since his Boss’s relationship started almost a month ago.

[Commlink Identifier Perceptor Reached. Commlink Currently Unavailable. Please Leave Return Ping PIN. Thank You.]

“Damn.”

 The pinged scientist in question sat in dark silence. A wineglass in a twitchy grip and glaring at the wall.

He hadn’t left his hab in days. Hadn’t spoken in a week. He tongued a fang, and glared through the darkness with an eye mutated to see near perfectly in the absence of light at the vent at the top of his wall, as he had done many nights.

Many nights since Brainstorm had found a new... interest.

Waking up from fitful naps to the muffled call of a voice he recognized making sounds he had caused many times- the wine and blood staining the wall he stared at spoke volumes of when his temper would overtake him; normally so rare an occurrence and yet here he sits and grinds his teeth like ancient millstones and swears he taste saltpeter between sharpened incisors.

His commpiece on the coffee table goes off, and he frowns like a sneering predator knowing who it was.

“Oh piss off, punching bag bitch.”, he hisses into the darkness, “Go handle your little ANGEW you pathetic little. Ugh.”

He drains his glass, getting to his feet- bare, dotted with blood from broken glass he walked over by the wall without a care- and he walked with the sway of a serpent’s head to his own kitchenette to pour himself another glass.

His nails dig into the counter as he thinks. Remembers. Had it already been an entire month...?

[”What did you say his name was.”, asks Perceptor, frozen for a moment as he cocks his head.

“Skids.”, answers Brainstorm with an almost fond chuckle. Perceptor hates the sound, “Said he was with the main planet R&D department under Optimus himself.”

“...He’s not.”, says Perceptor flatly, turning and concerned and enraged alla t once, “He’s with the ADJ- Brainstorm, you need to chase him off immediately, it’s not safe to have him around you-”

“Oh please. I’ve handled YOU all these years haven’t I?”

“I’m the evil you know, but even I don’t dally with Prowl’s lackeys! You know the blind Zealot himself is beyond unhinged and dangerous and Skids is one of his favorites-”

“Oh shut the fuck up!”, snaps Brainstorm, “I can handle myself, you think some woowoo soldier-preacher can outsmart ME? Much less one of his underlings IF that is even true.”

There’s a beat of quiet in the conversation, before Brainstorm smiles smugly and crosses his arms.

“...You’re jealous, aren’t you Percy. Cause I don’t want you anymore.”]

“So what if I am.”, hisses the sniper to the empty hab, “At least I’m a devil you’re used to; you beautiful, brilliant dumbfuck.”

It would be another week before finally, FINALLY- Whirl got an answer.

::What is it.::

::Took you long enough, sniper.::, grumbles Whirl quietly, ::I don’t trust this Skids that ang- Boss is gettin’ with.::

::Come off it you sappy dumbass, we all know you call him angel. Own it. And you shouldn’t trust him- he’s ADJ. Prowl’s pet rats.::

::...He told me he was with New Institute.::

::That sector shut down years ago. He told Brainstorm he was part of Optimus’s planetside R&D sector.::

::This is fishy.::

::It’s not my problem. I’m just jealous, according to him- that’s why I get the most delightful symphonies at night.::

::...Shit, I didn’t even-::

::Don’t call me to save him anymore. I’ve paid my debts Whirl of Polyhex.::

Whirl flinched at the sharpness with which the connection died. He looked up, ,leaning slightly to peek through the ajar door to his boss’s personal quarters and felt something bitter in his throat at the way he could see Skids draping over the industrialist’s back.

Whirl looked away when he noticed the shine to their skin; busying himself with something, anything to keep his focus away and tame the frigid curling sensation in his chest.

The months pass like molasses, like syruped strychnine the days drizzle by and Whirl feels himself once more icing over in his old permafrost- no longer meeting Brainstorm’s eyes and feeling a peculiar sting at the realization that Brainstorm either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care. He’s not sure which is worse.

Perceptor isolates in the biolab- arms burning from self-samples taken with little care for himself beyond protocol and sterile handling; throwing himself into understanding and controlling the mycomutagen rushing through his system and swallowing his soul. At least something needs him, anymore.

And Brainstorm... feels like he’s floating. His mornings are soft- soft in a way they hadn’t been with Perceptor in years, soft in ways he hadn’t yet really considered with Whirl; be it from insecurity or frustration. Skids was... easy to read. Easy to predict. Curious and gentle-voiced; body soft and unmodified and real and warm in ways Brainstorm wasn’t used to.

Skids’ teeth were blunt. Human, really human- like his eyes, like his hands. Like his expressions telegraphed like neon signs and so easy to read.

It would have been easy for Brainstorm to love him only for that.

But beyond that; flying under Brainstorm’s radar using the scientist’s ego as a shade- Skids was so very...curious. Asking questions, innocent and smooth and kind in that gentle voice of his like liquid gold, like warm honey. Eyes wide in awe and praise and his compliments sounding so earnest and eager and feeding into the forgefire of a god complex still blossoming.

However... there is a rule of the universe that is best to remember:

If it sounds too good to be true, it is.

The servers shut down all at once. Brainstorm jerks out of his work trance, blinking in the white light at his reflection in the screens and there is the sound of security guard’s boots and protection drone wheels up and down the halls. Doors automatically lock and seal and there is nothing in or out on the commlines for hours.

Brainstorm, curious and concerned, feels no qualms about overriding the lockdown and skulking down halls to security elevators- rolling his eyes and muttering something about handing control of security to him given the false alarms that had been popping up over and over-

He stands in front of his door, and hears it- a gunshot. Silenced, but audible to his modified ears; he shields with one hand and fires into the unlock panel for his hab to activate the emergency opening mechanism to see Whirl crumpled on the floor and the flash of a server case from near the glass door that led out to a balcony where many a night was spent looking up at false stars.

“...Skids?”

“Shit.”, is the sigh in the darkness as Brainstorm creeps in from the always muted entry hallway. 

“Lights full- what the- THAT’S MY-”

“Aht, don’t yell now. I’d really hate to have to kill you too Stormy.”, says Skids with a mockery of pity on his face, “Not to bothered by your bodyguard- it was getting annoying watching him pine over you and give me the stink eye every fucking morning.”

“What is the MEANING of this Skids, why do you have my transport case, what the hell is this!”, snarls the industrialist as he kicks briefly back at the half open door before stomping forward, “Put your fucking gun DOWN, you know I won’t fucking die.”

“Theoretically, you won’t die.”, says Skids too sweetly, “Unless someone knew how to set up something useful, like say a mini-EMP. And knew how your failsafe worked.”

Brainstorm stopped- his coat shifted slightly against his legs like the exhale of a bitter god laughed at his back.

“Don’t take this personally babe. You really are a sweet guy- not too bad in bed either, even if your snoring is atrocious. But... you’re easy.”

“Wha-”

“To convince, babe, keep up.”, said Skids impatiently, “You really gotta work on that. And hey, maybe getting your servers jacked by what your old fuckbuddy calls a Prowl Lackey will learn you a thing or two. Consider it a free lesson from the best.”

“But. But you, and I-”

“Brainstorm, don’t make this harder than it has to be. Handle your dying bodyguard there, don’t do anything stupid. Leave cockiness to the ones who can back it up, yeah?”

“Oh precious, big words!”

Brainstorm knows the smell of burnt hair. He felt the heat of plasmafire cruise next to his ear and scorch a few stray curls as it passed and saw Skids shriek and dive to the side. A pistol clatters to the floor and Brainstorm stumbles and falls when he’s shoved out of the way and Perceptor is there.

His hair slicked down, like the old days. His face severe and cold and vicious and in stark contrast to the deep gemstone tones of his cosmetics.

“Leave the case, jackal-pup.”, hisses the sniper with a rasp like cheap wine and expensive whiskey, “Leave the case and warn your precious little master that a notice has been sent up the chain. Some cookie jars don’t need bloody fingers fondling the rim.”

Skids raises his gun and Perceptor’s free hand has a pistol in it and firing before the ADJ agent can pull his own trigger- Skids swears again as his weapon is pinged out of his grip and Brainstorm can see the sizzle and smoke of burns on the agent’s hand.

And then Skids is gone- kicking the sliding back door and vanishing into the false night of an enclosed planetary colony.

Brainstorm looks up to Perceptor, feeling his chest clench at the nonacknowledgement as the sniper turns to the groaning Whirl.

“Come off it, you aren’t dead yet darling. Stop flopping about like an old roach.”

“Fuck...hyooo.”, wheezes Whirl as he eases himself into a sitting position. He taps fingertips over the hole in his shirts before pulling it off to reveal bulletproof armor with a heavy plasma burn.

“Good. Plan went off without a hitch.”, said Perceptor as he holstered his pistol and stood with hip cocked. Finally, then, he looked down to Brainstorm with something other than emptiness in his good eye.

“Next time, maybe you’ll listen when someone cares enough to warn you, asshole.”

And Brainstorm watched him stalk out of the hab, vanishing down the hall with a hand to his commpiece with a “Hello, Xaaron” as two medics rushed the room in a flurry of white and red and clinical concern.

Brainstorm sat on the floor, overcoat puddled around him like a wedding dress left at an empty altar- he looked up, he reached for Whirl with a plea he couldn’t manage to voice on his lips and felt his heart creak as Whirl flinched away, looking to the side like a scorned spouse.

For all Brainstorm had bragged of his intelligence, his wit, his perfection- he had been fooled with nothing more than kisses and smiles.

He takes his vigil around the empty space where Whirl should be- flitting about his bodyguard’s shadow like a brokenhearted ghost and desperately trying to build his anger back up- fuel himself on rage arrogance like he had before but the fire simply refused to burn. The tinder spent and wood dampened by the frost all around him until he did the only thing left for him to do-

He sat up, sleepless and hurting in his empty bed and hiccupped softly. The tears came easy, they always had to his eternal annoyance but the mourning- oh, that was hard to come by. And he dressed quickly; his coat abandoned on the form in the corner and he ghosted out of his hab and over to the next door in the line- so familiar a route.

He forewent knocking, entering a code long since memorized and choking on the twisting sensation in his chest when the code spat back NOT RECOGNIZED in a digital font.

He curled his titanium hand into a fist... and knocked. Once. Twice. Three times.

Nothing.

He knocked again. And again. And again and he hated the weakness, the need he felt and he all but crumpled in front of of Perceptor’s door and his breathing hitched and-

“P-Percy, please I. I messed up, okay I messed up I just. I just wanted. I wanted someone who, who...”

‘Who was like you. Who was like the you who never came home. Who never said goodbye.’

The door opened. The smell of menthol smoke and liquor. A cool hand reaches down to brush knuckles over Brainstorm’s cheek and catch under his jaw to tilt his face up to see the deadpan and hurting expression of one Perceptor of Altihex.

“...Oh darling. You’re a mess.”

“Y-Yes.”

Brainstorm stands, shaky and filled to overflowing with emotion, and Perceptor leads him into his lair, his home, with an exhale of smoke and a smile like the action hurts.

The door hisses shut behind the industrialist.

“....Love, this isn’t healthy for us. Especially not now.”

“I know.”

“...We can’t keep doing this, can we. This is... This is proof.”

“...Yes.”

“The jealousy, the goading... It isn’t good for either of us. I’m chasing a dream that died back when I had custody and you’re chasing a feeling that died when I got shot all those years back.”

“I. I know, Percy but- But please. Just.”

“Just one more hit, and then farewell.”

Brainstorm’s hands go to Percy’s hips and he buries his face into the sniper’s neck.

“I. I can’t promise that. I can’t, Perce, sweetheart, don’t make me lie to you.”

“We can’t keep hurting each other, love. It will only escalate.”

“Then let it, let it, let it-”

Perceptor’s back is against the wall, ash drifts away from the end of a cygarette and the chemicals turn their kisses tart and desperate.

‘Let it burn us both alive, maybe dying really would be easier.’

“How long, darling, before I abandon you for the good Doctor again.”, whispers the sniper as he nuzzles Brainstorm’s throat, “How long before you fade away from me to flutter your moth’s wings around the artisan bodyguard.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know anymore-....”

“Oh precious, you are easy to love based on your honesty alone when you allow it to show.”, coos the sniper before he licks a dribble of blood from the corner of his slyly upturned smile and looks down at the sprawled industrialist, “You are beautiful in your craving for punishment, in your demand for your own perfection but oh- oh you beautiful and brilliant fool.”

And Perceptor leans down and kisses Brainstorm’s already bitten lips before whispering, “I will give you your penance, because I know that’s what you want from me- to earn forgiveness. But this... this is the last time I allow myself to hurt you, my darling. Savor it, and then let yourself have the softness you need so very badly.”

It was unspoken. It was secret, and something their own and it never left Perceptor’s door.

Even when Brainstorm caught the eye of the curious who no doubt heard the whole night’s commotion and he glared at them with brass and blood eyes and a spine like iron; he silenced them without words and slunk back to his own hab to snatch his coat from it’s form and pull it over him like armor; fastening the front closed and sliding his feet into familiar boots that he laced with the cold practice of a madman binding his butcher’s heels.

And he stalked free into the halls, letting the grief and anger and sadness and hatred suffuse him.

Whirl awoke with a yawn when he heard footsteps, expecting a medic to be holding out a datapad with the discharge forms on the screen.

Brainstorm stood stock still, back towards the silently closing door.

“...I ignored your advice.”, said Brainstorm softly, “...That was fucking stupid of me to do, when you know better than I do. When it comes to people.”

Whirl was quiet.

“...I. I’m. I’m sorry, Whirl.”, he said quietly, “I was... needlessly...”

“You were an asshole, sir. All due respect.”, said Whirl quietly, “You are good at that, however. I don’t necessarily make a habit of pointing it out, you do that fine on your own, but I digress.”

“...That’s a bit harsh-”

“You made your ex listen to you get laid with your new piece every night for how long, again? That is not exactly the picture of professional grace.”

Brainstorm winced, “...You’re right. Unfortunately.”

“I’ll keep the admission between us, sir.”

“Thank you- please stop calling me that.”

“What.”

“Stop calling me sir.”

“You didn’t seem to be bothered by my silence or concern, so forgive me for going back to old habits.”

“Can. Can we try all this business again?”, said Brainstorm with a voice small, and quiet, and soft.

Whirl looked at him, an eyebrow raised, “This business?”

“...Being the way we were. Or were going to be.”

“...Maybe- but you’ll have to work for it-”

Brainstorm winced again, “Fair enough.”

“And we’ll see how you do... Angel.”

Brainstorm’s shoulders relaxed, and the corner of Whirl’s mouth quirked up into a smile.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Not sure if you still want to write for old prompts but if so; May I request Rodimus, Brainstorm, and a bot of your choice for the kidnapped s/o defending their bot and giving the kidnapper a tongue lashing? Your writing is so good it seriously brightens my day reading through it all! :D

I never tire of my prompts, lovely anon! Thanks a million and here's the good boys! I couldn't think of anyone I wanted to do for the third bot but I poured my heart and soul into these two, I hope you like them!

Rodimus

·Your panic had never really gone beyond some light anxiety about when you'd get to eat next, but you credited that to the rescue party you knew was coming. Rodimus had bested bad guys far more competent than this loser, so you had few worries about getting out. Truthfully your greatest concern was how unfathomably annoying your captor was proving to be. Between their grandiose personality and their constant taunting over the communication line, you feel as if you're going to go mad. Unfortunately, when the mocking starts to be aimed directly at Rodimus without end, you quickly build to your limit. The gloves come off when your captor crosses the final line and calls your partner "Hot Rod" in an unacceptable jab.

·"Oh for God's sake! It's Rodimus you dolt, not Hot Rod! I know the extra syllable is a little difficult for you, but try to keep up!" Your shout echoes so loudly in the tiny cave that a bit of dust falls from the ceiling. Your captor is quick to try and shut you up, but that doesn't stop you in the slightest, as yelling feels far better than taking any more of their trash. For pete's sake, they stole you for ransom and they're expecting good behavior? Entitlement falls way short of describing what a jerk this bot is, and you let them know it, channeling the insults you know your partner would unleash if they could.

·"You think you scare me? You think you scare anyone?! You're dumb enough to piss off the captain of the Lost Light buddy, you should be afraid! Rodimus sees guys like you as footnotes compared to what he usually deals with!" Quite accustomed to your beloved captain charging in to save the day, you let loose a long list of his accomplishments, proudly defending and boasting at the same time. Your captor can't even get a word in edgewise. With a devilish smirk, you start to go on about all the less public ways Rodimus rules as a partner. His impeccable charm, his smooth wit, and his capacity to perform as a Prime where it really counts... That last bit is kept from vulgarity only due to a none too distant explosion cutting you off.

·Before anything can move, the door quite literally melts before imploding inward as molten metal, revealing Rodimus covered in flame. He moves in a fiery blur, his fist more akin to a meteorite as it collides with your captor to knock them out in a single punch. At your cheering of his name, he comes to your side in a flash, fire dissipating completely after he frees you of your bonds. Moments later the remainder of the crew is pouring in with Magnus scolding Rodimus for rushing ahead. He ignored him completely as he takes you into his arms, optics shining as if he's beholding something more precious than the Matrix could ever be. Though his words are flirty, his tone is tender and brimming with affection as he takes you back to the ship. His lovestruck expression doesn't seem to go away even when he throws a massive party to celebrate your rescue.

·In an incredibly rare moment where his responsibilities pull him away from you, a bot close to him tells you something they think you should know. Rodimus was initially devastated by your kidnapping. Though the entire ship had rallied for your rescue, he'd barely held it together enough to take charge, and hearing the bot mock him had nearly sent him over the edge. Your outburst had, as if by a miracle, revitalized him. Hearing you stick up for him, including your grand list of what you adored about him, had so inspired him that controlling his fire had become easy. It was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. You believing in him had put into perspective what he was capable of, to the point it lit a fire in the most literal sense of the phrase.

Brainstorm

·Dating a bot brilliant enough to rend time had made you quite accustomed to shenanigans of all kinds. Thus, you were calm when kidnapped, both due to the aforementioned reason as well as your certainty of rescue. However, that calm had proved short lived when your captor proved to be an annoying jerk with a massive inferiority complex. Their ceaseless mockery through the communication channel was like torture the DJD would have found too cruel to condone. You'd been able to stay cool for some time, focusing on keeping the situation calm and looking for weak points your rescuers might exploit, but inevitably you'd been pushed to your limit. The final straw had been your captor having the audacity to mock your partner for being a hopeless inventor who only managed to make things no one needed, and that sent you over the edge.

·"Hopeless?! You call inventing time travel and creating the multiverse hopeless?! This coming from a loser in a cave with the most backwards security system on this side of the galaxy?!" Your outburst had come with a rattling of your chains to emphasize your point, and between your voice and the clanking metal you'd immediately had the full attention of the bad bot. Still enraged, you made a point of detailing every single categorical failure they'd displayed, having learned plenty about judging the quality of technology in Brainstorm's lab. There's more than enough material for you to throw at them with the nightmare of poor maintenance surrounding you. "When was the last time you bothered patching up these turrets anyway?! Hope you're not planning on using these for defense, Brainstorm will have them short circuiting before he's done hacking that door!"

·There's something resembling an attempt at a comeback, but you're a mile ahead before it's even halfway out. To say your beloved bot eclipses this loser's intellect would imply they'd actually register on the same level, and you have to laugh at the absurdity of someone so incompetent daring to come after one of the most brilliant bots in the galaxy, something you let them know in no uncertain terms. The litany of reality warping ways you might be rescued is as long as it is ridiculously plausible. You begin going off on the countless other ways Brainstorm might get around this captive situation, extolling his many talents in weapon design and paying special attention to how brilliantly he thinks outside the box. You're about to get into the details of other areas he's creative in when the lights go out and everything plunges in to darkness.

·Flashes of biolights, small explosions, and shouts of action are all you have to discern some incredible rush of activity. Before you can really figure out what's happening a beautiful pair of yellow optics light up the darkness, and in a split second your chains are broken and you're being lovingly cupped by a pair of careful hands. At the flip of a small device the lights flicker on to reveal a beaten but otherwise fine captor being cuffed, but you ignore that entirely when Brainstorm removes his mask to speak to you. Playfully fussing over your condition, he uncharacteristically kisses your little head in full view of everyone, something he's never done before. In fact, the next few days he's nothing but openly loving and outright showy in his affections, publicly presenting you with a series of fantastic gifts invented to profess his love.

·In a rare moment of solitude, you're unexpectedly taken aside by a bot who says they need to let you know something important. Brainstorm was almost dangerous. He'd already lost one love, and he'd been so intent on not losing another he'd been forced from his lab to prevent him from tearing reality asunder to get to you. He'd been nearly impossible to console or restrain until your voice came through the comm. Hearing you defend him so passionately had calmed and invigorated him all at once, grounding him in reality and giving him the clarity he needed to assist in rescuing you. The device he'd created to extinguish enemy defenses had been put together at a speed that impressed Perceptor. It was thanks to you that he remembered to go slow and take things one step at a time, because just as much as you were worth fighting for, you were worth living for.

[libermachinae]

Lost Light/Rodimus

Notes: No, I don’t mean the crew. Unedited bc I’ve already spent way more time on this crack fic than I meant to. Rated G, no warnings apply, 2K.

---

It wasn’t Brainstorm’s fault, entirely.

“How the hell did you make a metrotitan spark?”

Just mostly.

“Well, it’s actually an extremely complicated, delicate, precise procedure,” Brainstorm said as they ran for their lives through shifting, narrowing corridors, Rodimus’ engine gunning to keep up with the jet. “It’s something other scientists have been trying to crack since before the war started, but between the exact measurements of the photonic supercrystal and the pattern of coding charges, no one else ever managed to—”

“Okay, forget how!” Rodimus shouted. “I don’t care about how! Or why! Or even at what point you decided to make a massive t-cog to go with it—”

“Actually, Perceptor cracked that one.”

“—or how you got it past Riptide and the rest of security! I don’t care!” A wall appeared front of them; Rodimus swerved around it while Brainstorm pulled into a neat roll. A wingtip brushed Rodimus’ roof. “Assuming we survive this any other way than First Aid scraping our pancaked frames off a random corridor wall, you’re going to tell the whole story to Megatron, and he can use all the practice he’s had with me to tell you exactly how terrible an idea this was.”

“Pancaked?”

“Earth term. Watch out!”

The hallway to the shuttle bay disappeared behind two shifting plates, and Rodimus had just enough time to brake and avoid being crushed. Brainstorm pulled up and transformed, landing at Rodimus’ side.

“Oh, this isn’t good,” he said.

“No kidding?” Rodimus angled his mirrors to look around, but every glance just revealed fewer directions to escape to. “We’re trapped.”

“Not that,” Brainstorm said. “We’re in the abdomen.”

“Belly of the ship, sure.”

“In root mode, the Lost Light’s power core is situated in the lower decks, under multiple layers of plating and insulation to keep the heat from frying everyone around it.” Brainstorm traced a small circle on the plating just underneath his cockpit, then drew it up, toward his chest. “When Perceptor was designing the transformation sequence, though, we couldn’t quite work out how to transport the core with all its extra plating. So, we just, hm, put a pin in it.”

Rodimus stared.

“So, what you’re saying is—”

Brainstorm pointed to the ceiling.

“The power core is one level above us right now. As soon as the transformation sequence is completed, it’s going to come online. The Lost Light’s designed to handle that kind of output, but not standard Cybertronians.”

“So, right now, this moment, we’re standing in the smelter, waiting for it to come on.”

“More like in front of the smelter after the blast doors have malfunctioned, but yeah.”

“Okay!” Rodimus revved his engine. “Well, that’s no good! We’re getting out of here.” He glanced around again. The walls were thick, but there had to be a weakness somewhere. “Don’t you have a drill gun? Or a drill you reformatted into a gun that can still be used as a drill?”

“I have a regular gun.”

“You do not.”

“I do!” Brainstorm insisted, pulling the standard issue pistol from subspace. “I was just about to see if I could do something about the problem of a finite ammo capacity (spoiler, I could’ve) when Light’s t-cog started spinning. I have others on me, but nothing that’s gotten the Perceptor stamp yet.”

“Everything else you’ve got will kill us if we fire it?”

“Might,” Brainstorm corrected, “they might kill you. Percy just hasn’t had time to test them yet.”

“Okay, fine.” Rodimus glanced around once more, optics falling on one feature he’d thus far overlooked. “You know what? We can work with this.”

  It’s a simple fact that if you’re desperate to have floor-to-ceiling windows along the vehicle-accessible corridors of your miles-wide spaceship, they’re going to need to be reinforced. Heavily. A full round of shots fired at point-blank from a non-infinite pistol might be enough to get a crack in it, but that’s about it.

Of course, if you then ram that crack with a Matrix-armored sports car dropped from the undercarriage of a speeding jet, you might get somewhere.

Rodimus hit the window bumper-first, vibrations from the impact traveling in both directions throughout his frame. Whatever he was feeling, though, the window was having a much worse time: the crack stretched and exploded, shards of glass whipping out into the empty density of space. Rodimus went with them, and for a brief second he feared he would never stop going, before strong arms and the sound of thrusters secured him.

::We’re alive!:: Brainstorm’s comm crackled to life in his audial. ::And assuming at least a couple people listened to Minimus’ instructions, we should be looking at a good—oh frag.::

::What? How bad is it?:: Rodimus tried to angle his mirrors, but two teal wings blocked his view.

::It’s fine! Don’t worry!::

::That’s my ship, Brainstorm, of course I’m going to worry!::

::It’s alright, Rodimus.::

::Who was—::

A white hand appeared in front of them, large enough that Rodimus could have done donuts on its palm, large enough to punch a moon clear through. Brainstorm’s thrusters were straining to slow them down while Rodimus’ emergency brake slammed on, but momentum seemed committed to mashing them like a reverse rustbug.

The hand shifted, flipping over so the palm was underneath Rodimus, scooping up until his tires were just skidding across the metal surface. Forgetting to release his brake, his swerved before he came to a stop, swinging around and taking in the full view of his ship as, with a final ripple, her plating shifted into place.

She glowed. From the fuel rods around the corona of her helm and the winding lanes of windows around her arms, legs, and sides, light streamed from her, but not so much that she hurt to look at. Her optic band was a solid magenta and, Rodimus suspected, unseeing, but even that gave off a light that drew the eye, even as Rodimus felt the increased pressure of the hand lifting them up. In their ascent, they passed her chestpiece, the bow of the ship, and through the viewscreen Rodimus saw a decent portion of his crew, staring back out at him.

They came to a halt in front of her faceplate, and from this distance Rodimus could see the wavering patterns of optical lights, perhaps attempting to generate an expression. Ratchet would demand a look at Perceptor’s coding, he thought, a moment before the Lost Light’s voice returned.

::Hello, Rodimus, Brainstorm.::

::You gave her a comm suite?:: Rodimus asked, glancing at Brainstorm.

::Didn’t you check the ident?:: Brainstorm returned. ::She’s using the communications hub.::

::Oh.:: He glanced at her again. ::Can you access all of our major systems like that?::

::Yes.::

::Cool. Neat.:: An independent Cybertronian with the ability to quantum jump. And they’d been doing so well staying off the bad side of this reality’s Galactic Council.

::Do you have a name?:: he asked.

The optic lights wavered, shifting without meaning.

::Of course,:: she said. ::Drift named me Lost Light.::

Rodimus spluttered.

::How do you know that?::

::I have complete access to all in-network records,:: she said. ::My ‘memories’ extend as far back as my registration five million years ago, though they become more comprehensive within the last several decades, starting with the commencement of your quest.::

::Anything anyone ever dispersed via in-house networks, saved to a private console, or was automatically logged by the systems is up for grabs,:: Brainstorm said. ::Makes introductions pretty simple, at least.::

::Sounds like a fancy way of saying she’s got the worst possible first impression of everyone, but sure, that’s an optimistic way of looking at it.:: Brainstorm had climbed off him, so he transformed and took two steps forward. ::I’m Rodimus, your co-captain. Though, you already seem to know that.::

::Yes. I know all of you.:: For a moment, Rodimus thought they were moving again, but it was the large helm tilting forward. ::Thank you, by the way, Brainstorm. Though I unfortunately agree with Minimus Ambus’ preliminary assessment of your actions, I do appreciate this opportunity to be alive.::

::Like creator, like creation, I guess!::

::Wait, you talked with Minimus?:: Rodimus asked.

::Of course. I’m speaking to everyone right now,:: Lost Light said. ::I’ve been looking forward to this.::

::Wow. You’re either going to be Swerve and Misfire’s missing trinemate, or their biggest competition.::

::I do not find either of those options appealing.::

::Oh, yeah, that’s fine!:: He waved his hands. ::Just a joke. You can do whatever you want, now, you’re your own bot. Well, within reason, I guess. We might need to make another new officer position for you, and then—::

::I will continue to perform my duties, Rodimus. You have no need to worry in that regard.::

::Oh, good.:: Rodimus’ spoiler sagged and a few bubbles of trapped air escape his vents. Brainstorm’s scheme hadn’t dehomed them, at least.

::If you wouldn’t mind hearing it, I do have a request.::

Rodimus’ spoiler twitched back up.

::Sure!:: he said. ::After everything we’ve put you through, we owe you, huh?::

::I would prefer you not consider it that way,:: she said. The connection crystalized and strengthened into a private transfer as Lost Light cleaved Brainstorm into his own channel. ::After reviewing the records, I find I admire you, Rodimus.::

He stared.

::Oh?::

::Despite what you call a poor first impression, I have observed a crew that cares for each other and looks after its most vulnerable, with you as the spark that inspires such communal behavior. You act for the good of others, you encourage selflessness and self-improvement. Does that sound correct?::

There was nothing to hide behind on the palm of her hand. That observation could not kill Rodimus’ instinct to flee.

::I, uh. I don’t know?::

A flicker around the optic band again.

::Oh. My apologies. I have only just started to engage in pattern recognition, and it is possible my assessment is—::

::It’s fine!:: Rodimus assured. ::Sorry, you did fine. Um, yeah, I guess you could say all those things about me. Not everyone would, but if that’s what the logs are telling you, you should trust your instincts. Maybe just like, make sure to update them with your own observations?::

::Acknowledged.:: There was a pause, and Rodimus imagined she was sorting the suggestion among her priority trees. ::I will maintain my assessments as an ongoing process. However, if I am utilizing my initial understanding of each crew member as a basis to form a more informed conception of their character, then it is logical to assume that there must be some element of validity to my initial evaluations, correct?::

::Uh, sure?::

::Excellent.:: Her whole visor brightened, a straightforward positive that must have been easier for her programming to calculate than the emotions it had been trying to convey before. ::Then it is not unreasonable for me to hold to my initial conviction that I admire you, Rodimus. If you have time, I would like to get to know you better.::

::Huh. Uh.:: He hated to make assumptions, but the way her visor sparkled seemed more coordinated now. ::Can you give me one moment?::

::Of course.::

He hopped into a channel so well worn it felt like sinking into his own thoughts.

::Rodimus? Are you okay?::

::I’m fine, Drift,:: he said. ::Just, uh, need some advice.::

::Just advice? Not a rescue? Rewind and Perceptor managed to map out a way down to the shuttle bay, if you need an out.::

::No, no,:: he insisted. ::I’m just… I really don’t want to assume anything, but I think it’s possible my ship just asked me out?::

::Oh, yeah.::

::Oh, yeah?::

::I mean, she did,:: Drift said. ::Before you and Brainstorm broke free, she commed everyone, introduced herself, told them her favorite thing she knew about them, then asked about you.::

::Do I… want to know what she asked about?::

::Depended on the person. Swerve got interrogated about whether you’re available.::

::Swerve?::

::The Lost Light Insider pegged him for a rumor monger and she ran with it.::

::Cool. Great.::

::Hey. Really, you okay up there? Tailgate’s halfway through the vents, we can come get you, if you need.::

Rodimus pointed his gaze down to the deck, though he was too far away to see anyone individually. It was possible the ship’s exterior cameras were still streaming to the command screens, in which case Drift would undoubtedly catch his disapproval.

::Please make sure Tailgate doesn’t get squished, I don’t need Cyclonus seeking vengeance against our ship.::

::Sure. But seriously, Rodimus, are you okay?::

Rodimus spun his wheels with a flick.

::I’m fine. I just… isn’t this, I don’t know, kind of taking advantage?::

::I mean, she asked you, and—wait, are you interested?::

His engine heated up and Rodimus started to pace.

::I don’t know! Maybe?::

::Aw, Rodimus!:: He could imagine Drift’s face: goofy smile, softly dimmed optics. ::Hang on, I’m patching Ratchet in.::

::No, hang on, you don’t have to—::

::You’re saying yes?:: Ratchet demanded as the new connection crackled through.

::I don’t know,:: Rodimus insisted. ::I could? She’s attractive. And she knows a lot about me and hasn’t decided I’m worthless slag.::

::Rodimus,:: Drift chided.

::Hey, look, I’m not saying that about myself,:: he countered. ::Just that it’s a conclusion she could have come to, but didn’t. And I guess I kind of like that?:: He shrugged. ::I wouldn’t mind getting to know her. First new Cybertronian we’ll meet for a long time, you know?::

::Sure,:: Ratchet said. ::Follow her lead, but be up front about your expectations.::

::Both of you will have bots looking out for you,:: Drift promised. ::Seems like she and Nautica are already hitting it off pretty well.::

::Alright.:: Rodimus smiled. ::Okay, thanks guys. I think I can handle it from here.::

::Sure you can,:: Drift said.

Rodimus cut the call and switched back to Lost Light’s channel. Brainstorm was wandering around behind him, still engaged in his own animated conversation with his creation.

::Still with me?:: he asked.

::Of course.::

::Great,:: he said, offering her a smile and a flicker of his headlights. ::So, yeah, I’m down to spend more time together.:: He leaned down until he was sitting, crosslegged, on her open palm, brushing the smooth metal with his own hand. ::You can tell me all about what it was like that time we were getting chased by space pirates.::

::I look forward to it,:: she said. The platform of her hand drifted closer, until Rodimus could have reached out and brushed his fingertips against his facemask. He could have felt afraid, then, but he didn’t. Instead, he felt a warm light in his spark as he regarded Light, the familiarity and comfort that came with meeting an old friend face to face for the first time.

[writeyouin]

Rodimus X Techbug – Guardian Prime (COMMISSION)

Description – When a new Autobot joins the Lost Light, Rodimus seeks to become their mentor. However, when he learns of Techbug’s difficult past, he might find the task harder than he expected.

A/N – Hey @ask-tf-techbug​, I hope this is what you had in mind. If you want anything editing, just say the word and I’ll do it ASAP. In the meantime, thank you very much for the commission.

WARNINGS – Smut. NSFW. Mentions of abuse.

RATING – M

WORD COUNT – 2173

Rodimus walked with a spring in his step, eager to meet Techbug, the newest recruit to the Lost Light. Ultra Magnus had warned Rodimus of Techbug’s past. Originally an Autobot who had been captured at the start of the war, he had been forced into the Decepticon ranks. Techbug had been controlled through abuse, manipulation, and torture; it had turned him into one of the Decepticons’ most ruthless killers, Silentdeath. Now that the war was over and Techbug was free to start his life anew. He had been sent to the Lost Light to receive therapy from Rung, who specialised in treating PTSD, among other things.

Although Rodimus knew of the infamous Silentdeath, it didn’t taint his opinion of Techbug; after all, Drift had once been a Decepticon, and he’d managed to turn his life around. With the right mentor, Techbug would be just fine, and Rodimus was determined to be that mentor, if only to prove to Ultra Magnus that he could be responsible when he wanted to be; besides, how hard could it really be, being a mentor?

Finally, Rodimus reached Techbug’s new hab-suite, whereupon he rapped a playful tune on the door.

“Hey Techbug,” Rodimus greeted with a wink once the door was opened, “I’m Rodimus, the co-captain of the Lost Light. Nice to meet ya.”

Rodimus didn’t let his surprise at Techbug’s appearance show. He wasn’t small enough to be a mini-bot, yet he couldn’t have been taller that fifteen feet, only coming up to Rodimus’ chassis. He also had a similar appearance to Earthen cats, with a white tipped tail that sharply contrasted his orange colour scheme, and cat audials to match; it was rare to find bots that were shaped after organic creatures. Moreover, Rodimus couldn’t help feeling that Techbug was slender, more like a femme than a mech. To be perfectly candid, Rodimus found Techbug cute.

“Hi…” He whispered quietly in response, unsure of what to say since he didn’t know Rodimus; what he would give to be more comfortable with strangers like most other bots were.

“So,” Rodimus beamed, ignoring the tension. “You want a tour of my ship? It’ll help you get more acquainted.”

Techbug gave a small nod and left his hab-suite, following closely behind Rodimus, who slipped easily into the role of charismatic tour-guide.

They were about three-quarters of the way through the tour when something Rodimus said piqued Techbug’s interest.

“This is one of three labs that we have aboard the ship. As you can see, uh- Techbug?” Rodimus looked behind him, sure that the bot had been there a minute ago.

“Look at this, it’s all brand new,” Techbug marvelled, zooming around the lab. “Is that a GR-91 Centrifuge? I haven’t seen one in real life before. The Cons’ never let me into their labs and they only had old ones anyway. Do you know how fast this could separate particles? It could- Uh… I mean… Sorry for getting so over-excited… I’ll- I’ll be quiet now.”

Rodimus grinned cockily, “Hey, don’t worry about it, it’s cool to see you so excited. You like this lab? Then take it. Nobody else uses it anyway. Brainstorm and Perceptor each have one, so you may as well get this one if you want it.”

“Primus,” Techbug’s tail piece twitched in anticipation, “All of this for me, are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s no biggie.”

‘Oh, but it is,’ Silentdeath, Techbug’s alternate personality growled maliciously inside his processor. ‘It’s a very big deal, right Techie? What have you done to deserve this? Nothing! You’ve done nothing for this, betrayer.’

“Be quiet,” Techbug hissed.

“What was that?” Rodimus asked, having missed Techbug’s warning.

‘Ooh, he’s listening to our private conversation. We don’t want that now, do we. You should stare him down. One look from our outlier ability and the only time he’ll speak is with Primus in the Afterspark.’

“Stop,” Techbug whispered.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Rodimus placed a soothing hand on Techbug’s shoulder-plate. “Med-bay isn’t far from here, I could take you to see Ratchet.”

‘HE WANTS TO TAKE YOU TO MED-BAY! You remember what happens in med-bay, right? They’ll recode you again, and they’ll make sure it hurts. I can’t wait to hear your pathetic screams when they tear you apart and put you back together again. Such sweet agony.’

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Techbug pushed Rodimus, making him stumble backwards.

Before Rodimus could protest, Techbug fixed him with a hard glare, feeling his outlier ability rising up from within, burning quickly through his already low energon supply. With the ability to freeze or kill an enemy with a look, Techbug had been one of the Decepticons’ best weapons. With a full fuel tank, he could have frozen up to three mechs, as it was however, Techbug only managed to freeze Rodimus in time before a warning flashed on his visor: ENERGON LEVEL CRITICAL. SHUTDOWN PROTOCOL ENGAGED.

Techbug passed out and Rodimus was stuck, aware of everything yet unable to help. Fortunately, it only took a few minutes for Rodimus to be released from the effects of the outlier ability, allowing him to move freely once again.

He vented the excess air from his systems, eyeing up Techbug tiredly, “Something tells me that you’re going to be a bit of a handful… I’m really glad you left your swords back at the hab-suite.”

“I’m sorry,” Techbug murmured, unable to look Rodimus in the optics. The two were in the med-bay, where Rodimus had carried him after his energon burnout. “I didn’t mean to freeze you up like that… I was- He made me do it.”

“He? You mean Silentdeath?” Rodimus asked, feeling sorry for yet another bot whose mentality had been damaged in the war.

Techbug looked uncomfortable at the mention of his Decepticon name.

“Hey, you don’t have to worry. We’ve all made mistakes, y’know, except for me, ‘cos Primus broke the mould, I was far too perfect even for him.”

Techbug snickered and Rodimus shot imaginary finger guns at him, “And the bot does know how to laugh. Good for you buddy. Anyway, is there anything you wanna do next? I’m okay staying here for a while if you want, but now that you’re energised, I was thinking we could do something fun. What do you say?”

Going against his social anxiety, Techbug nodded, “Something fun sounds good, Captain.”

After a few weeks aboard the Lost Light, Techbug started to come out of his shell. Silentdeath was quieter than he had ever been before. Techbug hadn’t used his outlier ability since he’d frozen Rodimus. With Rung’s help during therapy, he was even confronting some of his worst memories which he had always shut away in an attempt to forget; it wasn’t easy, and it usually left Techbug feeling a little worse for wear, but in the long run, he knew it would be helpful. Best of all, Techbug had even been making friends among the crew. He still gravitated towards Rodimus, but who wouldn’t? Rodimus was charming, funny, handsome, had a great aft-

Techbug blushed, snapping his eyes away from Rodimus’ aft which he had blatantly been staring at as Rodimus went to buy the next round of high-grade energon for them.

“Seems like you have a little crush,” Dogfight smirked, taking a seat next to Techbug and wrapping his arm chummily around him. “The name’s Dogfight.”

“T-Techbug,” Techbug whispered his name quietly, going ridged at Dogfight’s uninvited touch.

“Yeah. I know all about you. Been watching you for a while. You’ve got a few admirers yourself, by the way. I should know, I’m one of them. That’s actually why I’m here. I was thinking that maybe you could ditch Hot-Wheels over there,” He gestured to Rodimus. “-and come spend some time with me. Maybe even see where the night leads, if you catch my drift.”

Dogfight stroked the inside of Techbug’s thighs sensuously, leading his way up to his interface panel. Supressed memories of Techbug’s past surfaced, hitting him like a freight train. He remembered how the Decepticons had used him for sex. They had called him names, debased him, forced their way into his interface panel, made him their slave in the berth as well as away from it. Techbug felt like he might purge his tanks if he didn’t escape Dogfight’s touch.

Once again, he concentrated on his outlier ability, though this time he was in full control of it as he froze Dogfight in place and extricated himself from his hold. On a full energon supply, Techbug was not weakened by the use of his outlier, however it did not stop him from feeling nauseous as he ran back to his hab-suite, trying desperately to forgot Dogfight’s unwanted advance.

As soon as Rodimus saw Dogfight frozen in space where Techbug had once been, he abandoned the high-grade energon he’d just bought. He rushed out of Swerve’s and immediately transformed, driving speedily towards Techbug’s hab-suite.

“Techbug,” Rodimus called, banging on the door, worried that he might be too late to stop one of Techbug’s episodes. “It’s me, Rodimus. Are you in there?”

As he was left waiting, Rodimus seriously considered using his override code to unlock the door, but before he could do so, Techbug opened it, wiping coolant from his optics.

“I’m- I’m fine, Rodimus. You should just go, I’ll be alright.”

“You’re clearly not fine. What happened back there? I just looked up and you were gone. You should at least talk about whatever it is. Was it something to do with Dogfight? Did you have another accident? Was it Silentdeath again?” Rodimus rushed through the list of possibilities, speaking faster with each question.

Finally, Techbug relented and let Rodimus in, if only to stop the persistent questions.

“I- I just- I got spooked and I couldn’t be there anymore. I only wanted to be with you tonight anyway.”

“Me?” Rodimus pointed dumbly at himself. “Why? Were you feeling shy or something?”

Feeling simultaneously vulnerable, frustrated, and like he needed some attention, Techbug threw his arms around Rodimus’ neck, pulling him down for a kiss. Thankfully, Rodimus didn’t question the action as he returned the kiss, pressing his mouth hungrily against Techbug’s as if they couldn’t get close enough.

Up till now Rodimus had ignored any lingering romantic ideas of Techbug, worried that by being a mentor, he would only pressure his ward. Since Techbug had initiated the kiss however, Rodimus saw no reason to reject the advance.

Rodimus yelped as Techbug’s nimble fingers tugged at his neck cables. He broke off the kiss, staring uncertainly at Techbug. “Are you sure?” He asked, alluding to the prospect of interfacing.

“Yes,” Techbug vented air out of his vents eagerly. He had never interfaced because he wanted to before, it was always because he had to; this was new and exciting and he could already feel his spike straining to be free of his interface panel.

Rodimus reached tentatively for Techbug’s aft, massaging it gently as he made his way to the berth, falling against it rather than laying on top of it. Techbug’s interface panel slid open, his spike rubbing against Rodimus’ inner thigh.

“Is that a gun or are you just happy to see me?” Rodimus joked.

Techbug’s face-plates flushed red and his cat-like tail lashed impatiently from side to side, “I want to see yours too. I want to ride you like a hover-bike.”

Rodimus’ engines revved, “Looks like you already found the ignition.” He lifted Techbug up, letting him wrap his legs around his waist. “Now all that’s left is to get on.”

He inserted his spike into Techbug’s valve, moaning at how good it felt. Although he had planned to take it slow for their first time, Rodimus was surprised as Techbug forced himself down on Rodimus’ spike.

“I’m not that delicate,” Techbug whispered huskily.

Taking the hint, Rodimus gripped Techbug’s hips and pulled him onto the berth, so that Techbug was on top; most bots assumed that Rodimus liked to be on top but in truth he found it nice to be submissive on occasion.

Techbug began gyrating on Rodimus’ spike, growling with lust every time it pressed against his anterior node. He was desperate. He needed this attention. He basked in the warmth of Rodimus’ presence. Rodimus however, sought to toy with Techbug, reaching low to rub at his spike.

Techbug bit his lip to keep from crying out as Rodimus jacked him off. It wasn’t long before tips of transfluid beaded the top of Techbug’s spike.

“Delicious,” Rodimus purred, looking Techbug in the optics as he gathered the trans-fluid off his spike and licked it off his servo.

“Primus!” Techbug squeaked, feeling his overload building up. “I- I-” Techbug never got to finish his sentiment as Rodimus overloaded with a loud moan, followed closely by him.

He was going to tell Rodimus that he loved him, but at that moment, the words didn’t matter, and by the look on Rodimus’ face, he thought that Rodimus might know already anyway.

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[transformer-imagines]

Happy Together

No one asked for this, but I’m the one in control of the aux cord on this blog and I wanna indulge myself with some cute Dinobot shenanigans

Sludge (G1) x Bot!Reader (sfw)

2672 Words

Everyone and their creator knew that the Ark’s med bay was understaffed. Ratchet was the only one qualified enough to consider a doctor, so mechs tried to help out however they could. Being in the war for the better part of your life, you had picked up what medical knowledge you could in order to aid your comrades; you couldn’t offer much, but you tried to help Ratchet as much as you could. Normally this translated into running errands, taking basic vitals, or doing some patch work.

It was all hands on deck in the med bay today. A particularly nasty skirmish sent so many bots your way that anyone in non-critical condition was asked to sit on the floor. You were scurrying about between them, jotting down names and conditions on your datapad. Even the thick platted Dinobots hadn’t come out of the fight clean. The aspiring team medic, Swoop, was one of the few permitted a seat on an exam table, Wheeljack working to reattach his wing. He was the only Dinobot that you had ever really spoken to, being in and around the med bay so often. He was an excitable and enthusiastic young bot, not something anyone would be able to tell with the way his vocalizer was whining static.

His brothers had tried valiantly to remain with him in the med bay but were shooed out by Wheeljack; there were just too many injured bots for them to be taking up all that space. Only Sludge was allowed to stay, waiting to get patched up with the other mechs on the floor. You were saving him for last, not overly eager to face him; his intimidating size dwarfed most bots and the Dinobots weren’t well known for their friendly dispositions.

Eventually, you could put it off no longer. You tried your best to exude confidence and professionalism in your EM field as you approached. Sludge took notice, straightening up from tracing absentminded patterns on the floor panels to send a curious look your way. Oh Primus, he was sitting down and you barely even reached the top of his chassis.

“So, uh, you’re name’s Sludge, right? I’m Y/N.” He gave a hum in response, nodding his head in agreement that yes, his name was in fact Sludge. “Can you show me where you’re hurt?” He nodded again, moving his right pede out for you to inspect. What you could make out as his alt dino casing was shredded, jagged metal torn and fraying out from the wound.

“Right next to big explosion. Took out him Swoop. Lots of shrapnel, tore off wing and hit me in side.” He turned slightly and gestured to the kibble on his back. “More here.” You gestured for him to turn fully so you could inspect the damage as you jotted down his abridged account on your datapad. He was lucky his plating was so thick, as the force of the explosion probably would’ve hit major energon lines in any other bot. Most of his damage was superficial, deep as it was, though the shrapnel had managed to nick a few minor energon lines.

“There wouldn’t have been an explosion in the first place if it wasn’t for you ditzy dinos!” You finished jotting down the damage before looking sharply in the direction of the whiny outburst. Of course it was Huffer. “If you hadn’t given us away, none of us would be in here!”

“We’re all on the same team, Huffer,” you said with a wave of your servo. “So stop harassing patients or I’ll turn off your vocalizer.” A resounding laugh sounded from behind you.

“You must have a glitch in your memory core, Huffer,” said Hound. “The Dinobots gave us away by saving your tailpipe!”

“I could’ve taken care of it!”

You left the two to their bickering, patting your patient on his knee plating to get his attention. “You’re not too badly damaged. Since I got to you last for diagnostic, I’m gonna go ahead a patch you up first, okay?” You offered Sludge a kind smile, trying to provide better bedside manner than Huffer. He took it, returning your smile with one of his own and moving to expose the damage on his leg more as you fished around subspace for your welder and some titanium patches.

It certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Sludge. He had a knack for denting his plating, either over the course of sparing with his brothers or while out in the field. You would’ve thought that he’d just get Swoop to take care of it, but more and more frequently he would be stopping by the med bay; he said he liked how much quieter it was there than in the retrofitted cave the Dinobots had claimed as their own.

It was almost laughable how intimidating you found Sludge when you first met. He had a gentle spark, reserved and well-intentioned. Sure he didn’t have the fastest processor, but you couldn’t keep up with Perceptor either; and what was a smart mech worth if they weren’t also kind? You’d much rather spend time with Sludge than Shockwave. It didn’t hurt that he was a good listener, too. Despite what other Autobots might suggest, he had a good memory, asking for updates on personal projects that you had mentioned offhandedly the last time you saw him. And he had a creative mind! Swoop had been talking to you about how Sludge had recently taken up two-dimensional etching and drawing. And he had a handsome face, delicate touch when getting your attention, and –

Wait what? Hold on, were you…did you have a crush on Sludge? Oh Primus, this was just what you needed in the middle of a war. Still, you could do worse. And the spark wants what the spark wants… So what, maybe you did have a crush on him. You might as well try and see where it goes; in this war you had to make what joys you could.

“Is it just me or does Y/N look like they’re trying to court somebot?”

It was gossip time in the empty corridor, two mechs making good use of the late hour and lack of nearby audio receptors to concern themselves with the lives of others.

“You just noticed? Yea, I caught em in the wash polishing like it was going out of style,” Cliffjumper gave a short laugh at the memory. “You’da thunk I’d caught em sneaking extra rations with the way they bolted outta there.”

“Any ideas who the lucky mech is?” Powerglide didn’t give the minibot a moment to answer before continuing. “I overheard from Doc Ratch one of the Dinobots has got a lil crush; maybe we’ve got some love-birds on base?”

“Primus, I hope not. No one deserves to have a dumb dino on their tail; they’re so stupid and clumsy, they’d wind up melting the poor bot down! Honestly, I think Y/N deserves better than getting slagged by Slag.”

“You’re just jealous you aren’t getting any,” the plane sniped.

“Powerglide, I’m just a realist. I can’t help that your processor is full of that romantic scrap.”

“Cliffjumper, I can’t help that you have an incurably abrasive personality.” Powerglide gave the Porsche a hearty pat as he began walking further down the hall. “Come on, maybe we can get Ratch to fix that personality component of yours! Or at least we can sit down; my struts are killing me!”

“I do not have an abrasive personality, you silicon sanded showboat!”

Neither took notice of the saddened giant on the other side of the corridor, watching the retreating mechs from around the corner.

Sitting in one of the metal booths stuck to the far wall of the Rec Room, you found yourself thinking it all through. Lost in the swirling liquid of your energon cube, you wondered if you had been reading the situation wrong. You thought that Sludge had reciprocated your feelings, but he hadn’t really responded to your efforts. He never mimicked your attempts at posing or polishing. Maybe he was just unaware of Cybertronian flirting? It would make sense, as he was made on Earth, but even then you would’ve thought someone would take pity on him and explain your efforts. It wasn’t like you were being subtle, even in non-Cybertronian terms. You even got advice from Carly, trying to figure out how she’d won over someone as oblivious as Spike. You tried to be as obvious as possible, complimenting his skills and appearance and inviting him to recreational activities. But even then, he would look flustered and come up with some reason to turn you down. Maybe he was just trying to let you down on amicable terms, ignore your advances but maintain your acquaintanceship. Maybe he-

“Hi! Room here to sit?”

The scratchy voice startled you out of your reprieve; you must’ve really been in your own processor not to notice the dinobot flyer approaching.

“Oh, Swoop! Yeah, of course, take a seat,” you gestured across the table. It was almost humorous watching him try to squeeze himself into the clearly too small booth; being the smallest dinobot still made him one of the biggest Autobots. Finally situating himself, he flashed you a mischievous smirk and his optics flashed in mirth. “How’s it going?”

“Good! Had to get out of Dino Den, though; too loud for reading when Grimlock and Slag fighting.” He emphasized his point by producing an anatomical datapad and setting it on the table.

“Well that’s too bad,” you said. “How’s everyone else doing?”

“Him Snarl hog TV all day, watching Nurse Whitney.” His tone held a slight annoyance at the distraction it must’ve posed to his own studying; you knew he was quite fond of the show, and probably found it near impossible not to be watching it. His optics lit up in sudden remembrance, a squawk making its way past his vocalizer as he straightened his posture. “Sludge work on project! Big art project!”

“Oh?”

“Yes! It pretty, very pretty! Him Sludge good at art. Best Dinobot, maybe even best Autobot! And good at other things too!” Swoop emphasized his point by holding aloft a digit, helm held high with a self-assured expression. “Him strong, very strong! Last fight, him take out twenty, no, thirty Decepticons! Him good at keeping others safe, protecting. Oh, and him best fisher of Dinobots! Good provider! Patient and quiet and-”

“Wait, what’s fishing?”

“Fish earth animals, live in water. Humans and Dinobots like catching fish, very fun and -”

It was hard not to notice the lumbering form of Sludge entering the Rec behind the chatty Pteranodon. His sweeping optics seemed to stop in the direction of your booth (though you suppose it would be hard not to notice Swoop, what with his crest and loud voice), his optics seeming to blink out for a second. Swoop continued on, oblivious to his brother’s presence.

That is until Sludge began stomping his way over. You quickly grabbed onto the table, thankful that it was bolted into the wall as the ground shook under his weight. It wasn’t often you were reminded of his tremorous step, but it seemed that whatever had gotten under his plating was enough for him to have forgotten the virtue of gentle pedes. You didn’t expect to see his normally soft features so soured, mouth drawn into a tight line and optics darkened into a furrowed glare. With his massive stride, it didn’t take long before Sludge reached you. His servo came to rest behind Swoop, the back of the booth’s bench groaning under his weight as he leaned down, optic to optic with his brother.

“What you Swoop think you do?” His voice seemed edged with a nervous worry.

“Me just talking to Y/N,” Swoop answered, flashing the Brontosaurus the same mischievous smile he had given you earlier. “You know they want go fishing? Me say you should take them!”

“Yeah,” you interjected, ignoring the fact that you had never discussed joining the Dinobots on their fishing exploits. “I think it sounds like fun!” You couldn’t help the eagerness that steeped into your EM field, hopeful that you might finally get an opportunity to spend some true quality time with him outside of the occasional med bay visit.

Sludge seemed to soften a bit at your reply, gifting you with a gentle smile before his brow furrowed. His smile turned to a slight pout as his gaze drifted down, seeming to be a bit lost in thought. He exvented sharply, lugging Swoop out of his seat and maneuvering the now indignant mech around to carry him under one arm. Ignoring his squirming brother, he turned to you with a sad smile that he tried to mask with a projected air of confidence in his EM.

“Me Sludge think on it. Would be fun. Uh, him Ratchet ask to talk to him Swoop, so we see you Y/N later.” With the lame excuse, he turned to leave the Rec. With a loud squawk, Swoop made his opinion on the matter known.

“No! Him Sludge like Y/N! Like whole bunch!” That seemed to stop the brontosaurus dead in his tracks, grip loosened enough in shock that the loud flyer was able to transform out of his grasp. He seemed stuck in place as his processor caught up with the situation. In contrast, you and Swoop seemed to be a flurry of movement, standing up from your seat in the booth as the Pteranodon perched himself on the back of the bench.

“Really?” Your response, lackluster as it might’ve been, was all you could dumbly muster up at the revelation.

“Yes, him won’t shut up about it! ‘Oh, them Y/N so nice, very sweet. Pretty face, pretty smile. Feel like me Sludge melt when they look at me. So smart, so kind.’” Swoop’s impression left quite a bit to be desired, but that was the last thing on your mind, your gaze drifting to the gentle giant in question as you took in his words. Sludge had sheepishly turned halfway towards you, optics firmly locked to the ground and servos fiddling together nervously. “Us Dinobots try talk to him about anything, him always distracted or drawing you.” That seemed to catch Sludge’s full attention. “Him have big project now, draw y-” A large servo suddenly came to rest on the Pteranodon’s beak, clamping it shut before anything too embarrassing could be shared. You craned your helm up to look at Sludge, his cheek plating positively painted with the glow of his optics and lips drawn into a pout.

“Sludge, is that true? Do you really like me?” His optics bashfully locked on the ground again, answering you with a soft nod. He dared a glance at your face before averting his gaze again. “You know, I like you a lot too.” That seemed to win his attention, finally maintaining some real eye contact. He nodded again with a hum and you frowned. “You knew? Why didn’t you say anything?” That stung, knowing that he was aware of your advances all along and hadn’t done anything. Especially when he apparently liked you too.

He opened his mouth before closing it, brow furrowing. You gave him a moment to formulate his thoughts.

“You Y/N deserve better than Sludge.” He spoke slowly, thinking hard on his words. “Deserve someone smart and not clumsy or stumbly. Deserve someone not hurt you.” You frowned at that.

“Sludge, you are one of the gentlest mech’s I know. You haven’t hurt me yet and I don’t think you will,” you said, stepping closer to him. “And in any case, I think I would know better than anyone else what I deserve. I think I deserve to be happy and getting to spend time with you makes me happy. You make me happy. Do I make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s be happy together.”

 BONUS:

“SQUAWK! Let Swoop go! No want to see smooches!”

[nonbinarybrainstorm]

Lemon Shots

Brainstorm and a few others decide it’s a fun idea to try flaming transfluid shots... Perceptor disapproves...

content: alcohol, handjob, cum eating, fire

“I can’t believe I’m letting this happen in my bar…” Swerve covers his heated face but leaves gaps between his fingers so he can watch everything that’s currently going down.

Trailcutter pants as Brainstorm’s hand works his spike, fingers curling to play between the ridges of his spike and the expressive yellow biolights that are flashing wildly. A bead of transfluid escapes his slit and Brainstorm dips his helm down to lap it up with a slow lick of his glossa, his optics flashing with excitement. Trailcutter grips the edge of the bar until the metal creaks under his fingers, trying not to be too loud even though he knows practically everyone’s optics are on him. Brainstorm squeezes the base of Trailcutter’s spike and he can’t keep the soft cry from escaping his intake.

“Give it to me all in one go, yeah?” Brainstorm urges with delight edging his breathy voice, clearly no less turned on by this than Trailcutter.

Trailcutter nods frantically, not trusting himself not to just moan anything he would or could say to that and shuts his optics as Brainstorm’s grip becomes tighter and movements faster. Brainstorm takes the head of Trailcutter’s spike into his mouth and sucks hard, pulling back slowly as he continues to stroke Trailcutter’s spike. Trailcutter’s optics snap back open to watch as Brainstorm’s lips slide off his spike, the faintest part of it visible through the gaps in Brainstorm’s cheeks before he pulls off with a pop. With a soft grunt, Trailcutter overloads and Brainstorm is there ready with a glass to catch all but the few drops that manage to land on his face, stroking Trailcutter through his overload until he collapses back, spent. As Trailcutter pants while slumped back onto the bar, cooling down after his overload, Brainstorm pops up back onto his pedes to accept a cloth from First Aid to wipe off the transfluid on his face and to set the glass full of bright pink transfluid on the bar in front of Swerve. Swerve stares at the viscous fluid with a bit of trepidation but prepares the cocktail anyway, pouring the dangerous-looking green engex into shot glasses. Then, he hesitates to add the final component.

Seeing this, Brainstorm sighs and picks up the glass and swirls around the transfluid casually while saying, “Come on, Swerve, why the cold pedes? It’d be a waste to not use this transfluid that Trailcutter so kindly offered us. You don’t have to drink any yourself, you know but there are those of us eager to try it.”

Off to the side, Trailcutter finishes tucking in his spike and looks away with no small amount of embarrassment and coughs awkwardly. Swerve’s optics flicker between Trailcutter and the ominous glass before him to settle on the glass before taking it from Brainstorm’s precarious hold. Rodimus stifles a snicker on one side as he patiently watches the entire scene go down. With care, Swerve pours small measures of the transfluid over a bar spoon into the five shots and sets aside the glass that still holds a reasonable amount of transfluid. Then, with a practiced hand, he sets each shot ablaze. After waiting just a moment to let it burn, Brainstorm picks up a shot to blow it out and down the engex in one go, savoring the salty-sweet tang of the engex mixed with the familiar burn of triple-filtered. First Aid is the next to try it and to Trailcutter’s great dismay, makes a show of it by licking his lips afterward and even winking at Trailcutter. More to get over with it than anything, Trailcutter takes his and downs it quickly, so quickly he coughs at the burn of the engex. Swerve bites his lip as he lifts the glass hesitantly and nervously blows out the flame before also downing it in one go before looking away with his face bright with shame mixed with other feelings that are vibrant in his field. Without hesitation, Rodimus lifts the glass pours the shot, still burning bright into his mouth and holds it there for a few moments before swallowing it down. He opens his mouth to let the built-up smoke escape past his lips in gentle curls then smirks at their dumbstruck expressions.

A tap on Brainstorm’s shoulder brings his attention away from the scene and his smile falters somewhat when faced with the abrasive, cold stare that has been practically perfected by his lab partner. Perceptor’s unimpressed expression almost dampens Brainstorm’s good mood but with effort and a significant amount of practice, he manages to not even look phased.

“Oh, hey, Percy,” Brainstorm greets him with glee, “Come to join in on the fun?”

“How in any way is this something you consider to be appropriate behavior? And in public of all places?” Perceptor snaps and Brainstorm has to suppress the urge to roll his optics.

Rodimus steps in and tries to assuage Perceptor’s feelings with a friendly, “Come on, Percy. We were just-”

He’s cut off by Perceptor’s cold gaze being shot towards him, so, Rodimus decides to put his hands up and back out of the situation altogether. Brainstorm does appreciate the effort though and with First Aid suggesting other “cocktails” to Trailcutter who stays very quiet and Swerve who is very pointedly cleaning glasses, it doesn’t look like he’d get much help otherwise. Perceptor waits for his explanation as his optics wander to the others before landing back Perceptor and a particularly devious idea comes to his mind.

“What is it, Percy?” Brainstorm coos mockingly as he puts the empty shot glass back to his lips with his optics locked with Perceptor’s, “Jealous it wasn’t yours?”

Perceptor stiffens with surprise then settles on scowling and is about to undoubtedly tell Brainstorm off but then Brainstorm is licking the dregs of the shot in a purposefully provocative way that has Perceptor speechless. Setting the shot glass aside, Brainstorm grins cheekily as Perceptor scoffs, anything he could have said dying on his glossa and Brainstorm grins cheekily with a victory on his servos, however petty and underhanded it is. Of course, never one to know when to stop playing with fire, Brainstorm leans on the bar and waves over to Swerve to catch his attention, making him flinch and almost drop the glass he’d been drying.

“Y-yeah, Brainstorm?” Swerve sets the glass aside and his optics flicker for a moment to Perceptor.

“Could you make one more of those shots?”

“Uh,” Swerve stalls and glances at Perceptor again then sighs and shrugs, “Sure, why not?”

In no time at all, Swerve puts another flaming shot in Brainstorm’s hand who offers it to Perceptor. Looking at it with open disgust, Percpetor’s glare only grows darker but Brainstorm is determined to get Perceptor to drop his guard, to dip a little into the depraved. He’s always wondered what kinds of things Perceptor would be willing to do, what it would be like to do those things with him…

“Here,” Brainstorm dangles the shot between, and with the precarious til of his hand, he realizes that maybe the engex is getting to him, “It’s all been consensual. No one’s done anything they didn’t want to do. So, try it. We’re scientists, aren’t we? It doesn’t hurt to be curious even if it verges on the side of morbidly curious.”

“Your strange fascination for the unnerving and nonsensical is not universal,” Perceptor puts firmly, holding up a hand to create a slight barrier between him and the flaming drink.

Brainstorm does roll his optics this time and sighs with no small amount of sarcasm, “Weren’t you a Wrecker? You must have seen and gotten up to things far more wild and depraved than this. Whatever happened to that Perceptor? Did he ever really exist?”

Perceptor grits his denta, going quiet and Brainstorm knows he’s struck a neurotransmitter, however small it might be and decides to really dig in his heals knowing full well that this could be one of his worse ideas. When has he ever let that stop him?

“You don’t have to drink of course,” Brainstorm sets the shot to the side and waves it all off, “but you can’t come in here and call me a degenerate when everyone knows your record.”

For a moment, everything is still and Brainstorm feels very full of himself as Perceptor stays quiet, knowing he can’t argue with Brainstorm but then Perceptor picks up the shot. Perceptor blows it out while looking Brainstorm right in the optic and pours it into his mouth. Not expecting that, Brainstorm doesn’t move, doesn’t even think to as Perceptor cups his face and kisses Brainstorm fully. Their lips mesh together and the warm burn of engex fills Brainstorm’s mouth as the drink pools out from Perceptor’s and his glossa slides past Brainstorm’s lips. He tastes the drink on Brainstorm’s glossa, holding his face firmly as he kisses the breath from Brainstorm. Brainstorm’s intake works as he drinks down the shot, intoxicated more by the taste of Perceptor than the engex itself. Then Perceptor is pulling away and Brainstorm doesn’t know what to do except hold tight onto the places on Perceptor’s frame he’d instinctively grabbed. Perceptor wipes away the trail of engex at the corner of Brainstorm’s mouth with his thumb and leans in close once more.

“The difference between you and me, Brainstorm,” Perceptor whispers so his vent brush Brainstorm’s lips, making him shiver, “is I know when to be depraved and when not to continue to procrastinate on my latest job.”

With that Perceptor, pulls away from Brainstorm and walks out of the bar, leaving a stunned Brainstorm in his wake. First Aid comes up beside him with a low whistle.

“I guess he really did have it in him, huh?”

Brainstorm nods and brings up his hand to touch his lips that still tingle with the sensation of Perceptor’s lips.

[toonformers]

Part 6

Today's topic

Twinsies AU part 5

Ok, so after Centinela had basically destroyed her ability to have feelings, she went on to give her life to science. She went on many expeditions with other Autobots to the Cybetronian colonies, working on different projects. In Velocitron, for example, Centinela created holo roads. Literal holographic roads that could go anywhere and take any shape. Perfect for a colony dependent on racing and speed. She had also developed a way to make energon slightly more stable for transport and currency exchange. In summary, Centinela had become a valuable asset to science and was to be Perceptor's successor when he'd decided to step down from the Ministry of Science.

In Sentinel's perspective, everything plays out like the TFA series, with the only difference of Sentinel being secretly empathetic towards the Jettwins, Jetstorm and Jetfire, because their relationship reminded him of the fact that he's also a twin. However, when asked about family, especially siblings, Sentinel would arrogantly deny having any family and claim he was forged instead of birthed. In his own way, Sentinel was trying to ignore the pain of his past, and would rather hide from his mistakes than face them.

I could go on about how each episode of TFA played out slightly differently because of Sentinel having a sister, but then I'd be writing a book, so I'll just leave those as an ask thing. The important thing is that Sentinel Prime went from being Elite Guard to acting Magnus. Then one day, Optimus Prime and his team of Autobots returned to Cybertron with Megatron and his Decepticons arrested. Leaving this beautiful reaction from Sentinel...

(If anyone finds a better quality pic tag me lol)

And a couple cycles after, Sentinel had called Optimus Prime to speak with him....alone. Sentinel didn't really explain why he wanted to speak with him. In fact, when Optimus was told this, he was confused at how Sentinel appeared so...calm. So this takes place in Fortress Maximus (I hope that's what it's called), in a large room with Sentinel sitting in a desk.

Optimus*enters*

Sentinel: Optimus Prime.

Optimus: You wanted to see me?

Sentinel: Yeah. Please, sit.

Optimus: *sits in front of Sentinel*

Sentinel: Uh, ho-how are you?

Optimus: Oh, fine. Fine. You?

Sentinel: Fine. Uh, your wounds healing okay?

Optimus: Yeah, they're fine.

Sentinel: Cool.

*awkward silence*

Optimus: So...why did you ask for me?

Sentinel: Well, I just wanted to *ahem* congratulate you. You impressed a lot of Autobots by defeating Megatron. Even me. I...honestly didn't think you had it in you.

Optimus: ....Thank you, Sentinel.

Sentinel, sad: And...I wanted to say that I'm sorry. For....Elita and...what happened at the Academy. I should've taken the blame then for what happened. I was just...I.... *sigh*

Optimus: You don't need to explain, Sentinel. I know you were just working very hard to get the life you wanted for Centinela and yourself. Family comes first, after all. I learned that on Earth. *smiles, then sighs* I just wish I could've brought Elita back with us...we never found her. I...don't know if she's online anymore. I'm sorry.

Sentinel, sad: Hehe, you don't need to apologize for anything. You did your best. And as your...acting Magnus, that's good enough for me.

Optimus: *chuckles* Wow. I don't know what hit you in the helm...but you seem a lot less...

Sentinel: Well, *accidentally switches to London accent* Mum and Dad always thought that respect was something that needed to be earned. And you've definitely earned it.

Optimus: *stifled laugh*

Sentinel: What?

Optimus: "Mum and Dad".

Sentinel, nervous: *blushes wildly and switches back to his usual accent* AGH THAT WAS NOTHING! I had a glitch in my voice box! Nothing weird!

Optimus: *chuckles* Of course. I would never think that you've been hiding your real accent.

Sentinel, nervous: Obviously not, hahahahaha...

*awkward silence number 2*

Optimus: So how is Centinela?

Sentinel, nervous: Uh, she's fine. In an...expedition to Junkion now.

Optimus: Sentinel, I spoke with her yesterday. She's not in Junkion, she's been back from her last expedition for many cycles now.

Sentinel: I...

Optimus: Listen, I know it's not my business. But I know you two haven't spoken since....I-I just hope you guys could speak and reconcile.

Sentinel: I...don't know if that's possible. We said some things...I said some things that I shouldn't of said.

*yet ANOTHER awkward silence*

Sentinel: Besides, I think it's for the best we go our separate ways. She'll be in the Ministry of Science soon enough and I'll be...

Optimus: The new Magnus. You must be so proud of yourself. You made it, hehe. Got the highest rank in the Autobot system, next to the Council. Maybe you'll go for that when you retire.

Sentinel: Heh, yeah. Yeah...

Optimus: Well...I should get going then. I hope I could stay on Earth for a bit longer, to help restore the damages done in Detroit. If that's alright with you.

Sentinel: Yes, of course. Stay as long as you need.

Optimus: Heh, alright then. *stands* It was nice speaking to you... *salutes* Commander.

Sentinel: Yes. You too.

Optimus: Take care, Sentinel. *leaves*

Sentinel then looks around at his fame...fortune and status. He then looks down and sighs. The final part will be up soon. Thx for reading up to now. See ya soon n.n

Part 6

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1