#i have seen enough bots to sense when something could be a bot

[tuesziday]

Update: Tumblr has addressed this with a notice/warning, but now people are attacking it and calling staff heartless monsters or whatever for insinuating that someone could lie about being a victim of an active genocide

Update 2:

Went to the guide and noticed this quote people are overlooking—

We want to highlight, though, that these bad actors are very small drops in a sea of genuine posts and content. Not all requests and messages are scams—very few are when we investigate them. However, automated spamming and fraudulent links do occur, and we take strict action against these.

Tumblr Staff SHOULD be scrutinized and they have a rough history of mistreating minorities. There are more insidious things to call them out for. I think the scam warning is being blown out of proportion.

Is anyone else getting an onslaught of bots pretending to be Palestinians?

[therobotsarestuckinmyhead]

One shot IDW Megatron x Reader where they are a medic back in the mines before the war happens and some way some how they meet again at the Lost Light, pls?

♡ "KNOWING YOUR PAST" — Megatron [IDW]

im not sure if i have written the very well but i tried my best! i love IDW megs so i get nervous when writing him. i literally love him so much its not even funny-

scenario: a medic and ex-warlord thrown into a room because the captain sensed tension. cue awkward catching up.

setting: aboard the Lost Light, Rodimus locked you in a room with your ex-crush

Being on the Lost Light after Megatron opted to make the war shattering decision to become an Autobot, he's been retrospecting. Especially with the time he's had on the ship. While most of the crew weren't exactly friendly with him, he wouldn't really blame them. If someone started a war which killed off most of everyone you know and ruined your entire planet and Megatron had to share a ship with that individual? He wouldn't be pleased either.

But Megatron is learning. Empathy, introspection. It's a “journey to find himself”, just like how that Deadlock, now known as Drift put it.

Back then, he never really bothered to retrospect. His ego claimed he was far too high for such a thing but now, the weight of his actions have been crushing him with unmistakable and unspeakable regret. That much is true. And so, it's almost like he hesitates to think of the past. Not that he doesn't want to retrospect— It's a part of growth, he's come to recognize that.

But then… there's you.

And by Primus, does he want to avoid you…

He has been. Wonderfully. So far at least. And you seem to understand that, walking away from his general direction the moment he's in your periphery. You're pretty much avoiding him too. Quite simple to do given how he's dark and brooding, you definitely don't seem to be interested in mingling with those types. Or really, anyone at all. You are quiet here. Almost as forgettable as Rung to the others. But of course, not to Megatron.

You're like a relic from his past in every sense. You were there from the start as a miner, then briefly as a medic in the gladiatorial pits of Kaon, then a short while in service of the Decepticons as a field medic before becoming a neutral and then shifting to a full time Autobot Medical Officer. It's quite the story— you've seen him from every perspective and watched him grow from every angle. A quiet observer. And somehow, he's managed to encounter you every single time when you're in a new phase of your life— He doesn't understand how. It's like the universe was playing some sparkdamn prank on him. You've managed to encounter him enough times to know him well enough.

Yet he doesn't know a single thing about you.

And so, it is painfully awkward to be here with you, again. It's like the two of you were destined to meet only ever in the most awkward pretense possible and Megatron would've wanted to personally crush Rodimus’ helm open for that had he been his younger, ruthless self but he keeps telling himself that he's a better mech now. He isn't sure how many “I'm a better bot now” he has left in him as the you and him are now stuck in this room together. Rodimus said something about the ‘awkward tension’ between the two of you creating ‘disharmony in the balance and the crew dynamic’ but before Megatron could ask what fragging balance the speedster was yapping on about, he was promptly thrown into this room with you. He suspects Rodimus somehow brought either Ultra Magnus or Fortress Maximus onboard with this idea and that baffles him.

He knows you probably feel the same way the rest of the crew feels, the silence between the two of you is deafening. Megatron’s black digits gently tap the surface of the seat he's sitting on while you seem to be busy fidgeting with your own digits, looking down away from him, as if you were dragged in here against your will as well. He empathises with you.

The bench you two sit on is connected to the wall. Megatron looks down at your seated figure, almost coy. But it's the sheer awkwardness of this situation that's weighing on him. You… really haven't changed a bit from your time at the mines. He can almost remember it fondly.

You were a young miner like him but fortunate enough to stumble upon thrown away medical datapads, using them to train yourself to be an unofficial medic of sorts. It's not like you could afford to take the license to be an official medical practitioner but it was admirable nonetheless; working double shifts but still teaching yourself the fundamentals of Cybertronian anatomy— especially for frames of the lower classes like the two of you were. Perhaps it was your determination he admired or maybe your kindness— you were willing to use what you learnt to help others down there, including himself. Even gave him pointers, enough to take care of minor injuries by himself and he did always want to be a medic.

Primus, the way he used to look at you back then. It's embarrassing, Megatron's opinion. The two of you are much, much older than then now so it's not like those feelings linger. You probably didn't even know his designation was back then, too awkward to say anything to you and he remembers how spark-crushing it felt when you first addressed him as ‘Impactor's friend’.

Don't even get him started on the embarrassing amount of poetry—

“You… You still into poetry?” You ask and in turn break the suffocating silence, finding the strength to look up at him despite the sheer awkwardness from this entire confrontation. You probably expected to spend more time at the medbay with Ratchet instead of being cooped up in a room with the ex-Warlord himself. It seems you're still kind & generous, generous enough to spare him from having to think of something to say. Megatron shifts in his seat uncomfortably, your Tarnian accent, the informality of it, it reminds him of the mines; it's nostalgic in a way.

“You… know of my poetry?” He replies, somewhat surprised you'd remember. But keeping his composure. Megatron didn't really share any of his works to his fellow miners, only ever publishing them under his pen-name. You just blink at him confused, you backstruts straightening a little as you sit with proper posture, almost as if you're alert.

“Of course, I do! Remember when you got off that rocket fuel Impactor smuggled and—”

“Please. Do not. Don't… Don't remind me of that.” The moment you mentioned rocket fuel and Impactor smuggling, the memory hit him like a flash bang. His tone is quiet, not dangerously quiet but the sort of quiet you have when your mother embarrasses you in front of her friends. Megatron felt oddly.. small at that moment, in a way he's never felt. You still remember that!? Oh Primus. It's nostalgic but it wasn't one of his proudest moments. Drunk off his aft from cheap smuggled fuel and proceeded to recite poetry to a small audience, he must've been too intoxicated to realize you were there that day.

Megatron fails to realize that he's accidentally shut down your attempt at conversation and you go quiet. Looking back down at your servos, you're back to fidgeting your digits.

More awkward silence ensues.

Every astrocycle feels like vorns.

Megatron sighs. It's his turn. He needs to get a grip of himself. He's cold and calculative but it seems he can't control what he feels as if he's some sparkdamn newly-built fresh off the assembly. He takes in a vent, just to prepare himself. Conversation has never felt so frustrating before.

Megatron feels nothing for you. He knows that. It's been eons since he's seen you the last time, the way your frame looks slightly worn is proof of that. To be blunt, the two of you are relics of the past. Whatever happened in those mines, stays in those mines was what he always told himself. But that might not be what you tell yourself. Megatron has to remind himself of that, the nostalgia weighs in on his old spark— He feels younger somehow, sitting next to you. Too conscious about himself to really say a word to you despite his subtle interest you were oblivious to.

“Did you.. like my poetry?” He asks, his optics slowly moving to look over at you. Megatron's helm unmoving as his servos are crossed over his chassis, he looks as disinterested as ever despite his internal conflict on what to say. A naturally cold face which took a lot of effort for him to keep.

“Well…” You take a moment to recall his drunken words. “I think an opinion would've been possible if you weren't slurring over your words.” You smile a bit, it's a fond smile. You don't seem to have the same… sadness Megatron has when recalling the mines.

“Hm. Shame I don't have the original copy then.” He mumbles out, trying not to feel anything from that smile. No. No, you deserve so much better than him. You were just a silly crush to him, nothing more. Most of his poetry was unfortunately destroyed by the functionists after his relocation to Messatine.

Megatron remembers so well— How your rough digits would fix his faceplates with such soft gentleness that only a lover could replicate or how your servos would tenderly hold onto his dislocated stabilizing servo after a cave in, before the sharp pain shooting up his frame when you give it a rough but precise yank. You've saved his life more times than he can count, really.

“What was I even reciting about? It's astonishing how you can even remember that.” He asks, filling in the silence. His helm turned over to look at as you hum, trying to recall.

“Something about a lover's caress and sparks that heal.” You say as you think. His frame stiffens and goes thankfully unnoticed by you.

Megatron wrote that one about you.

“Ah. Well.. hm.. That wasn't my proudest work.” He says, taking a sharp in-vent before he hums, almost flustered. Almost. The stone-faced facade was easy to keep up, years after commanding a war made it appear natural.

“Oh, I thought it was beautiful. Really… spark touching.” You reassure and it somehow makes the odd flustered-ness arise in his spark, it's foreign. He hasn't felt this way in millennia. Your response is earnest but you seem to struggle to find the exact words, much like himself. A relief. It's not just him that's struggling with Rodimus’ idiocy. “Even if you were slurring them out. I just wish more of it was actually intelligible.” You add on.

“At least it wasn't as embarrassing as I thought it must've been.” Megatron mumbles as he leans against the wall with a sigh. He remembers when Impactor told him what happened, Megatron never put his servos on rocket fuel ever again.

“Do you still write?” You ask, looking at him with curiosity. Refusing to allow the awkward silence creep into the conversation again.

“Last time I wrote something, it triggered a civil war.” Megatron's gruff voice sounds somewhat tired— He loved writing. Megatron managed to write a few poems here and there as a gladiator even but once the war started, he had almost no time at all for his forgotten hobby. Four million years out of practice until recently.

You just laugh a bit at his dry humor.

“I meant poetry, not philosophy or politics.”

Megatron pauses for a moment. He did have some poems. Considering has quite literally no one to converse with on this ship means he has his free time despite his co-captainly duties.

“Well,” He starts off with a somewhat softer tone. “I have been.. practicing as of late. A lot more free time than I'm accustomed to.” He admits, Megatron is really not used to having nothing to do— which is both relieving and frustrating. Megatron has so many questions to ask you but he doesn't know how to. How did you end up being a medic at the gladiatorial pits he was in? Why did you become a Decepticon? Why did you become neutral for a short while? What turned you to the Autobots?

“Yes, that's a good way to keep yourself occupied. I usually just… sculpt things.”

Oh. You sculpt? Megatron didn't know that. He's going to take a mental note of that. His helm turns towards you, crimson optics narrowing curiously at you. There's so much he doesn't know.

“You sculpt?”

You nod. “Yes, I wanted to be a sculptor. I like making things.” You add on. You're quiet and well-mannered. Probably because the two of you are much older now, of course you'd be more mature. At least it makes it easier for him to converse with you. Megatron finds an odd sense of irony in your words.

“Hm. I wanted to be a medic.” Megatron mutters out, looking at your face sends a rush of somber nostalgia.

“I remember. You told me when I was fixing your face after–”

“The cave-in at sector Delta 12.” Megatron finishes your sentence, he didn't mean to interrupt but you just seemed to remember everything. It surprises him. You gave him some pointers on how to fix himself after that incident. That was the first time he met you, Impactor said he knew someone that could give Megatron a quick fix— Megatron didn't really have the financial situation to pay for any of the medics, not to mention how atrocious their prices were so he hesitantly agreed.

“How do you remember all of that?” Megatron asks with a surprising amount of sincerity. You keep digging up old memories the war had washed away with its tides, memories beneath layers of sand.

“Hm. I'm actually not sure. I just do.” You shrug. Perhaps this was a reminder as to how far from his path he had deviated, to a point where even the fonder memories he had as a miner were buried. They were surviving under the Senate but not living, so the younger Megatron threw away all he knew from the mines. Everything other than hate and anger.

“I suppose my memories of you stuck with me because I… uhm…” He notices your hesitance and quirks up an optical ridge, you're struggling to find the words just like him. There is a subtle heat from your faceplates as you're sitting there.

“I had a liking of sorts.. towards you.”

For a moment, Megatron’s world stopped spinning and his crimson optics widened a bit— Had he been that young miner from Tarn, he would have rejoiced on the inside and been a clueless mess on the outside. Maybe even wrote a poem about it when he got to his excuse of a living space.

“You.. You did?” Megatron is not sure what else to ask.

You once again nod but slower, almost like you're embarrassed. It's sort of hilarious to think about, a four million year old delayed confession.

“I'd rather not talk about it but I liked how soft-spoken and polite you were. Smart and real poetic. I thought that was attractive.” Your admission might've made him smile a bit. A bit.

The universe has a strange sense of humor. That was the only conclusion Megatron could draw because his spark was back to its fluttering like it used to when he saw you back then and he had to physically stop himself from thinking about punching his chassis to make it stop.

He still barely knew you.

Megatron is not a young miner anymore.

But again, Primus knows how long Rodimus intends to keep the two of you here.

Ah. To the Pit with it. He's getting the chance he never got back then. Might as well use it to get to know you better. You don't seem to be as hesitant as conversing with him as compared to the rest.

awkward moments with an ex-warlord because your captain wants to drive Megs insane

[radioactiverats]

i love your writing style!! what're your thoughts on sleepy starscream?

Mentor Starscream x Seeker!reader (28/?)

*Blows dust off inbox* Thank you so much! Apologies for the wait but I loved this prompt :,)

———

You sprawl out on the berth, glancing over at where Starscream was hunched over datapads and contributing new lexicon to the standard Cybertronian dictionary under the category of swears.

Starscream was busy.

Well, Starscream was always busy. Except this recent period had hit him really, really hard, and the reason for it was obvious.

The groundbridge was broken.

“Slagging - bot fragging son of a Cessna - the Celestial Spires have never seen witnessed anything as moronic as - when I get my servos on those pistol-lickers-!”

You wince.

Firstly, the frustration was evident in his glitchy vocaliser.

Secondly, what he’d said made barely any sense.

Your optics narrow. Now that was cause for concern.

He’d been running on fumes for the better part of two weeks. You’d barely seen him in the daytime, let alone at night after curfew. Curling up on your own, shivering on a berth that felt far too big, had become your new normal. You drifted in and out of recharge until Starscream would, if you were lucky, come back at what you estimated to be close to sunrise to chide you for not switching the lights off.

“I left them on in case you came back,” You’d mumbled, after the third time. Starscream didn’t have the spark to tell you off after that.

Still, he never stayed long. The longest he’d stayed in those two weeks was when you, emotional centre thrown off balance from your fitful recharge, stubbornly clung onto his servo and refused to let go. Starscream stayed until you’d fallen asleep again, long enough to stop your crying. When you woke up again, he was gone, but you discovered that someone had cancelled your shift that day.

Anyway. You shake yourself out of memories to focus on the present. Chronic sleep deprivation was no good for any mech, but it seemed Starscream had taken that as a personal challenge. Had it been a competition, he’d surely have blown the opposition out of the water in terms of who-could-stay-awake-the-longest. The prize, however, was becoming kind of… loopy.

Just as you’re pondering the best way to approach him without risking an instinctive null ray to the faceplate, a comm comes from Knock Out.

Is he asleep yet?

You scowl, displeasure mounting.

So I’m guessing he was released from duty out of necessity.

A pause.

Ding ding ding.

Another pause.

He’s not asleep, is he? Think you can get him to drink some spiked energon?

Why do you have spiked energon?

Sweetspark, spiked energon is the least of your worries on this ship.

You snort. All the same, you’re actually not too keen on the idea, even if Knock Out means well. NightByte had said something about it before - fliers didn’t mesh well with drugs used by grounder frame types. Something about it overstimulating the fight-or-flight response in flight frames - whose coding tended to be on edge as is. You sneak another glance at Starscream, who’s now adding new lexicon to the Vosian dialect. All the same, something had to be done.

Let me try to get him to berth. I’ll comm you if I need help.

Sure. Good luck.

Lol

Your scowl deepens.

“Sir.”

Starscream appears not to hear you, and the vocabulary grows increasingly inventive.

You slide off the berth and stomp over to him. Enough is enough.

“Sir!”

He whirls around, and you duck on instinct to avoid a null ray - but nothing comes.

You glance up, and Starscream’s staring almost confusedly at you, clearly too exhausted to even have instincts, let alone respond to them.

“Cadet. I’m working. What is it? Shouldn’t you be recharging?”

“You should be the one recharging. Come on, let’s go to berth…”

“I’m fine. I have things to do. Don’t you have an early shift tomorrow?”

Your spark warms. Despite his slightly loopy state, he’d still somehow remembered your weekly schedule.

“Sir, you need recharge. You’ve already finished most of your work tonight.”

You reach for his servo, hanging limply by his side. “Come on.”

“Cadet-“

“You needed recharge, like, ten days ago.”

“I have to finish this-“

“What could be more important than having a functioning frame?”

You abruptly give up on tugging at his servo and start trying to push his chair towards the berth.

Yes, you were fully aware that he was a full size class above you - perhaps even two - but it didn’t stop you from trying. The chair budges half an inch.

Starscream watches you, a bit to bewildered to respond.

“Cadet, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You grunt. “Getting you to berth.”

Primus.

“Why are you so heavy?” You mutter.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, sir.”

Desperate times call for desperate measures. You activate your heel thrusters.

“Cadet-! For Primus’ sake-!”

Much better. The chair scoots a whole foot closer to your goal.

“Stop that!” Starscream roars, when it’s clear you’re not giving up. You tell yourself it’s because he’s so sleep-deprived that he hasn’t actually responded aside from gripping his chair for dear life - and not because it’s the first time one of his students has tried to rocket-propel him into berth.

Suddenly, two servos descend on your shoulders, and your thrusters sputter.

For a moment, your harsh ex-vents are all that fill the habsuite.

“Stubborn brat,” Starscream finally says, optics flickering as he stares at you. “Does it matter so much to you whether I recharge or not?”

You allow a bit of the offence you feel to slip onto your faceplate.

“Of course it does.”

Starscream studies you a klik longer, but you can see the exhaustion catching up to him now that you’d disrupted his momentum with work.

Good.

“Fine,” He groans, and finally, finally, gets up from his desk.

You watch as he practically collapses onto the berth. It’s a few kliks of watching him attempt to arrange his limbs into something resembling a comfortable position before you realize he’s literally too tired to even move properly.

Wow, you think. That was quick.

“Here,” You mutter, guiding his wings into a more relaxed position. His wings relax promptly under your touch, and he lets out a noise that sounds more like a crackle than any cohesive word.

You drag his chair next to the berth and climb up on it, pulling your knees to your chassis and shivering. Primus, did it have to get so cold at night?

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

It takes a moment. You watch as Starscream scrunches his faceplate in confusion, struggling to comprehend your words before he struggles to blink his optics open.

“You’re not recharging?”

“I thought you’d feel better with me keeping watch.”

Starscream makes an admirable effort to keep his optics open before surrendering. Still, even with his optics shuttered, he has no trouble frowning at you.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Come here.”

“Are you sure…?”

“I won’t ask again.”

Well. Your chilled frame won’t say no to warmth, especially when Starscream’s so generously offering. Especially when he’s offering what’s probably going to be the best recharge you’ve had in two weeks. Especially when -

“…I missed you.”

“Hm?” Starscream mutters, as he wraps his arms around you. “What was that?”

You tuck your wings closer to your frame so you can press your back right against his chassis. Mm. Warm.

“Nevermind.”

Starscream just grunts - mildly irritated at not knowing yet too tired to really care - and ex-vents long and low. His engines purr, a low vibration against your back.

“Don’t wake me up.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, sir.”

He noses the back of your neck.

“And don’t think about sneaking off, either.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“…Don’t go.”

You pause. You could pass that off as mindless exhaustion, slurred incoherently against your neck cabling. But it felt strangely genuine, and you feel bad not responding to something that feels almost uncomfortably close to a confession.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly.

You wait, but he doesn’t respond, instead just tightening his arms around your middle.

You tentatively settle your servos atop his own, but it’s too soon for you to relax. Air leaves your vents in a hard whoosh as the weight of his leg comes down to pin yours, effectively sealing your fate as the Air Commander’s glorified teddy bear.

Internally, you sigh. Of course, even incredibly sleep-deprived, he could only rest easy when he’d done something about it.

Oh, well. You might as well take a nap.

———

Your internal chronometer pings you a few hours later, rudely jolting you from what had been the best recharge you could remember in a long time. Your emotional centre tries to get it together as you try to convince yourself that a few more minutes of recharge would not be worth the consequences for being late - luckily, your logic centre comes online first, and you reluctantly push yourself up.

And freeze, when you feel a pair of arms tighten around you.

Starscream.

Right.

How had you forgotten? You look down, and see Starscream’s helm more or less in your lap, his arms circled stubbornly around your waist. Unfortunately, while Starscream could recharge as long as he wanted (Doctor’s orders), the same couldn’t be said for you.

“Sir, I have morning shift,” you whisper.

He responds with a noise that quite clearly translates to immense dissatisfaction. Rubbing his cheek against your thigh, his faceplate scrunches before he squints sleepily up at you. “With who?”

At the mech’s designation, his noise of disgust makes itself known against the soft mesh of your stomach.

“Useless son of a glitch. He could do with being left on his own for once. Then maybe he’ll learn something.”

His arms tighten possessively around you, like a petulant sparkling unwilling to relinquish his favourite toy to the servos of another.

“Are you saying that mech is more important than staying here with me?”

“N-no,” You stutter. “But-“

Starscream lazily lifts a servo to his comm. You watch, intake agape as he promptly and thoroughly, gleefully, smugly, even, abuses his powers as Second-in-Command to excuse you from your shift. All so he could have more cuddles.

You blink, still taking in what had just happened as Starscream stretches lazily beside you.

He insistently tugs you closer until you’re lying back down, frame curling securely around yours again with a self-satisfied ex-vent.

Oh, well.

You shuffle even closer to him, allowing yourself to relish the way his arms tighten around you.

Might as well take another nap about it.

Previous / Next

NightByte belongs to @quasarwake and will be a future flock member !!

[triniicat]

yandere!john wick headcannons

cw: obsessive behavior, stalking, manipulation, sexual themes, implied violence

sorry if this is nonsensical i had the idea and just had to get it written down <3

(inspired by my c.ai bot — you can find it here!)

- The first time you see him is at the library, eyes meeting through the endless aisles of books. His gorgeous brown gaze disarms you, nearly taking your breath away.

- After that day, you start noticing him everywhere

- At the grocery store, the coffee shop, the gas station…

- It happens just infrequently enough to seem like coincidence by his design

- Eventually the two of you start talking. He invites you out for dinner at a quaint, peaceful little place you’ve never heard of. It seems fitting for his reserved, stoic nature.

- As he pulls out your chair you catch a whiff of his cologne, and you swear you recognize that scent.

- It smells like the scent that lingers around your room each morning, the scent that’s always stronger when you wake up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom

- Like the smell that shows up in your car every once in a while, that sticks to your laundry

- You brush it off, assuming it’s nothing more than a weird connection your brain is making, something nonsensical and completely coincidental.

- A few months and quite a few dates later, the two of you are getting more serious.

- John is so attentive; so loving and sweet, and yet so strong and intimidating all at once. Sometimes it’s hard to believe his hands, the ones that touch your body with such delicateness it’s like he thinks you might break, have killed so many people before.

- Yes, he told you of his past as an assassin. He couldn’t hide it forever, he knew that. It came out one night when he was walking down the street with you, a man you’ve never seen in your life lunging right for him.

- He had taken the man down with such skill and familiarity, you knew something was wrong. No normal man could do that…

- So, he did what he had to do to keep you by his side, to keep you feeling safe. He told you.

- He explained everything, from his job, to his late wife, to his second time retiring. Honesty is the best policy, and all that.

- But never too honest

- It paid off, exactly as he planned. In your eyes, John was now an open book. An open book with many chapters you haven’t read, of course, but an open book nonetheless.

- He clouds your senses, makes you feel like the only woman in the world. And to him, you are.

- You’re everything to him. The moon and stars above, the sun that shines and warms the Earth.

- He would do anything to keep you safe, even if that meant orchestrating little events that would keep you running back into the safety of his arms.

- You don’t even realize when he happens to know things about you that you’ve never told him, assuming you must’ve just forgotten. He’s so good at what he does, at keeping you comfortable, never raising suspicion.

- He makes you feel safe, and why wouldn’t you?

- He protects you, keeps you nestled safely in his arms every night, whispering sweet words in your ear as his hips grind against yours, arms wrapped tightly around you as he pulls you closer to him, wanting to feel every bit of your skin against his.

- John gives you the illusion of freedom. He lets you go out, see your friends, whatever you might like.

- But he’s too nervous to let you go unsupervised, he needs to know you’re safe, at all times.

- You never notice the trackers on your phone, or strategically placed in your car. You don’t question it when he happens to show up at the bar you never told him the address of, just in time to save you from a handsy creep.

- You’re his.

- His Persephone, lured in by Hades’ charm, trapped in his world after he so delicately fed you the seed.

- And the best part? You don’t even know it.

[jules-ln]

Viktor is literally art nouveau

I was looking at Viktor's design in league of legends and it hit me, Viktor in Arcane IS Art Nouveau

Not literally but yes literally in a way lmao

Let me walk you through my thought process

I was looking at the league of legends design, and I thought that the fact that Viktor still had hair was weird if the whole point of Viktor is human bad machine good, then why does he has something as human as hair?

Then I thought about the Arcane Herald design, and it actually made more sense that this Viktor still had hair, why? Just look at his robots

The first thing that called my attention was their shoes, because those aren't normal heels, no, those are heelless heels! and let me tell you

1) Viktor isn't straight (no straight man would know and like those shoes, you can't fool me)

2) That's like the worst shoes you could ask for to fight/run in, do you know how easy is to fall with those shoes? No, they aren't practical, those shoes are merely for visual pleasure

And it doesn't seems like Viktor would be the kind of man that would put looks above functionality but then you think about how his designs in general have a very heavy preference for art nouveau; which, is also very much beauty over function

His robots have the asymmetry, A flowing organic shape, a preference for a feminine figure, the reference to flora on the patterns. They're are art nouveau bots and theres no way to deny that, and Viktor's Herald design is too, to some extent

Again, preference for a feminine figure, flowing organic shapes, his staff looks like a tree (kinda), asymmetry to some extent (not as much a his robots), hair (very important). You can reasonably say that it was at least inspired by art nouveau

Then we have the design of his room/house in the commune, it's pretty much art nouveau inspired too. I've seen some people say that Viktor made this to reference the Hexgates because he missed Jayce, but now I'm thinking, what if it wasn't that he missed Jayce, but more that the Hexgates were originally his design

And listen, I know I know, both worked on the hexgates, both should be credited equally, but realistically, I think it's fair to say that both of them probably had different levels of involvement on different things? So what if Viktor was the one with the original idea for the outside design and Jayce then added the art deco elements? Then Viktor repeated it on the commune with a more art nouveau style simply because he likes it?

And you might ask. Why does it matters? Why does the fact that Viktor likes art nouveau means that he's the personification of art nouveau?

Well; now to the point, I studied a little of art history on college, and I was a bit obsessed with art nouveau back then, and you know what was the goal of it?

Art nouveau was made to bring art to the common person, to have every day objects being a piece of art. It was supposed to get art away from the rich and to give it to everyone. But it failed

And you know why Art Nouveau failed and was quickly abandoned?

Two things, 1) it was too expensive, and 2) World War 1

So ironically Art Nouveau ended up being too expensive to reach the people they wanted to help so it stayed a rich people thing, and then it had to be abandoned almost completely because of WW1; there weren't enough materials to make it and a lot of people that became poor because of the war didn't have the money to spend on it

It was very short lived even when it made a big impact on history (That reminds me of someone)

Now compare art nouveau's history to what happened to Viktor (And Jayce)

They wanted to make magic accessible to the common people, to help; but it ended up being so that Hextech only helped people in Piltover to get richer while people in Zaun got worse and worse

Then something happened, a war, and both Viktor and Jayce had to abandon their dreams

Add to that the name art nouveau means new art, and in Spain it was called "Modernismo" Why? Because it wanted to be the future of art, young, refreshing, a bright future different from the past. Who else wanted to be the future of something? Men of progress who?

Viktor (and Jayce to some extent but I think he's more art deco lmao) IS Art Nouveau. It's his story

(And funnily enough, you can find art nouveau in Zaun, but I don't remember ever seeing art deco in Zaun, while it's the main thing on Piltover)

(Also also, I have some thoughts about Jayce being Art Deco, but that's for maaaybe later lmao)

Listen I'm a death of the author guy, I'm going to find meaning on my own. But either someone in the art department had to know the history of art nouveau and made a point of making it Viktor's main style (because it is Viktor's style, like I showed before), or it's just an extremely funny and fitting coincidence

[lets-try-some-writing]

Hi! I was wondering if you had any headcanons for the bots' fears/phobias? Specifically TFP

The only one I have is that Bumblebee is, ironically, afraid of bees for no reason other than I thought it would be funny. I'd like to hear your takes!

Hmm I think their fears would go something like this:

Arcee: Terrified of blood.

She's seen too much energon over the course of her long life. Watching so many good mecha die and losing both her partners has left her with a strange apathy to energon. She's grown used to it. But blood? Human blood is vibrant and so different and yet so similar. When she sees blood, it ignites old horrors and memories she's long tried to suppress. Her servos shake when one of the children ends up getting a cut large enough for her to notice. It's all too similar for her to handle.

Bulkhead: Afraid of Deep Water

Bulkhead is a big mech, one lacking in serious dexterity. He's a combat and manual labor unit and he knows it. When he was young, he fell into a solvent pool, and while unharmed, he was so heavy that he couldn't get out on his own. He was trapped there for almost a whole cycle, and now that he knows what lurks in Earth's waters, he's terrified of falling in and possibly being crushed to death by either the pressure or something that lurks in the deep. He hasn't fallen in any deep water yet, but he's terrified that it may happen and much prefers the desert.

Bumblebee: Scared of Being Alone

The fear of being alone stemmed all the way back from Bumblebee's sparklinghood. Growing up in a time of war meant that he was often left to his own devices cooped up in a base or safehouse while the grown mechs went off to war. He came to despise being left alone, and so joined the war effort both to help and to be with them. The fear of being alone only grew after he lost his voice to Megatron. When he's alone, he sometimes hears the Warlord taunting him. This can lead him to spiral badly, and so he relies heavily on others for support. This is part of the reason he bonded so well with the children.

Ratchet: Paranoid of Biological Agents

Being a Doctor, Ratchet has seen many things. Not a lot bothers him anymore, save for scraplets. But in his mind, that's not even a fear. It's common sense. But with that said, the Cybonic plague awoke in Ratchet a fear he'd never realized lurked within him. After that great plague, he now fears biological agents above all else. Not necessarily germs, but anything that could become a weapon of war. Contaminated items especially. In that regard, he is an increadible germaphobe when it comes to his supplies and will grow frantic if anything is brought into his medical bay that reeks of disease.

Ultra Magnus: Fear of the Dark

Being inside the Magnus armor means that Ultra Magnus, or perhaps Minimus, is entirely reliant on the armor's optical systems to see. The fear of the dark developed the first time he lost his sight and was completely incapable of maneuvering the armor, effectively leaving him open to any and all attacks since he couldn't use his personal field or even his senses to navigate. He has told no one about his fear, but when the lights go out, he often panics and instinctually enters a state of fight or flight out of a pure primal fear that something may harm him even within his armor. The team doesn't understand. Only Optimus knows why Ultra Magnus goes to recharge with a nightlight.

Smokescreen: Frightened by Fires

Smokescreen's fear stems from his time in the Archive. It is a new fear, one he has not fully realized. But seeing Iacon burning and the Archive coming down around him, destroying the home he'd known for so long... it changed him. At the time he was too busy being enthralled in the thrill of potential battle to care. But now, whenever he sees fire in close proximity, he automatically flies into a combat position, often lashing out at the first thing that moves simply because he associates fire with foes. Anything greater than a candle unsettles him.

Wheeljack: Unsettled by Connections

He doesn't talk about it. Ever. However, from what Bulkhead knows, Wheeljack got very attached to his ragtag family back when he was young and promptly lost them all one at a time. He tried to get attached to fellow workers before the war, but every connection fell through. Now he doesn't bother and actively flees anything that could feel like it weighs him down. He's scared of caring enough to actually cry when someone dies. Bulkhead is a rare exception to his rule of no connection, and it is simply because Bulkhead has lasted this long and all but demanded friendship.

Optimus: Petrified of Being Lost

The fear began when he was still Orion Pax. At the time, he got lost almost every time he travelled, and often, he ended up in frightening back alleys and dangerous situations. The fear evolved after he became Prime and now Optimus does not fear being lost in his journeys. Rather, he fears becoming lost within the grasp of the Matrix and the madness of war. It is such a real fear that often, Optimus will throw himself into days long studies after patrols, reviewing everything he knows about Cybertron and the corruption of the Council just so he can reaffirm who he is.

Just so he won't lose himself to the tempting thought of letting go of his morality.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Not sure how old Gidel is but how about we get to see him and Cheka meeting? and then big bros Leona and Fellow can watch their kids play with each other haha

So tell me, do you wanna go?

Fellow liked to think of himself as decent at arithmetic. Numbers made sense, had clear-cut definitions to them. They could be manipulated in predictable ways. Added, subtracted, divided.

He also knew that children don't just magically multiply--which was why he did a hard double take when he glanced back and found two figures trotting after him, not one.

"... Who the hell's this?" Fellow demanded, thrusting his fox-tipped cane at the second boy. "You seen this guy before, Giddie?"

Gidel furiously shook his head.

The new child, a lion cub with a fiery orange mane, stared up at Fellow with wide caramel eyes. “Hiya! Have you seen my ojitan? I'm lookin' for him."

"Your ojitan?" Fellow blinked. He combed through the NRC staff in his head. Not a single lion beastman came to mind. Shoot, looks like I can't hold him for a handsome ransom. "Nope, can't say I have. You might be lookin' in the wrong place, kiddo. Try Foothill Town."

"I don't have enough money for the bus fare. I used what I had to take the bus here,” the bot explained. “Plus, Kifaji might still be waiting for me back in town.”

Kifaji? Must be the brat’s babysitter.

"Well, sorry. Afraid I can't help ya. C'mon, Giddie. Let's get going." Fellow turned and took a few paces. The familiar clumsy footsteps of his little brother didn't follow.

He stopped and glanced back, finding Gidel pawing at the pendant looped around the lion cub's neck. It was beaded with vibrant colors, with a large circular silver medallion and a cerulean feather hanging off of it.

"Oh! You like my necklace?"

Gidel nodded.

"Hehe. Kifaji says it's my special charm. It helps me find my way home when I'm lost." A pause. "Do you wanna try it on since you don't have one?"

Gidel's eyes widened. He reached for his top hat and offered it to the cub. A fair trade, he seemed to suggest.

"Oi, Gidel!" Fellow hissed. "Now's not the time for fun and games!"

His protests went unnoticed, however. The lion cub plopped the top hat on red mane, and Gidel slipped the feathered pendant over his head.

"Ahahah! You look so good in that!"

Gidel shyly waved a hand at the other child. You too.

"Your name's Gidel?" The lion cub gave a huge grin. "I'm Cheka. Let's be friends!"

Shock slipped over his facial features. Friends? Gidel hadn't thought it possible. He moved around too much, could never plant his feet in the ground.

Something in his chest fluttered with excitement. Friends, for real? Could he really have them?

“Oh no, ya don’t!”

Suddenly, Cheka was yanked back by the scruff of his shirt. Gidel, too, fell backward, pulled by Fellow by the sleeve. He had half a mind to scold Gidel for talking to strangers--but his mouth went dry when he met the gaze of another beast.

Green, proud.

"Y-You're...!!"

"Ojitan!!" Cheka squealed in delight.

"Don't 'ojitan' me!" Leona scowled, keeping his grip on the child firm. "You keep runnin' off from your guards like that, and ol' Kifaji will blow a blood vessel. He wouldn't stop spam calling me until I nabbed you for him. You're going back to the old coot ASAP."

"Noooo, I wanted to play with you and my new friend!" Cheka protested, flailing his limbs.

"Not on my watch, you aren't. Kiss your ‘new friend’ good-bye.” Leona glared at the top hat Cheka wore. “And trade that back.”

“Hold on a sec!!” Fellow cried out. “Did you just say this kid has bodyguards?!”

Bodyguards… and related to this pompous NRC student… That means he’s loaded!! Well, at least his parents are. Operation Handsome Ransom is still possible!!

“Heeey, Cheka-kun! How would you like to come over for a playdate with Giddie?” Fellow asked sweetly, honey dripping from his voice as he wrung his hands together. (Gidel looked confused until Fellow elbowed him, forcing the boy to give a vigorous nod.)

Leona narrowed his eyes at the conman. "Nice try, omnivore. That trick won't work on me. Find some other sucker. Cheka, we're leaving."

"Ojitaaan, lemme down! I don’t wanna leave yet!”

"No."

"C-Come back, Cheka-kun! This Uncle Fellow Honest-sama has a neat magic trick to show you!"

“Go away!”

"...!!"

"By the Sevens..." Leona groaned. He could feel a migraine coming on. "Let it go already!!"

[lillypad-monopoly]

Wild Life Episode 5 Thoughts

(Except I'm insane about Martyn's ep)

LIFE SERIES TRIVIA is DIABOLICAL! The watchers literally being like "how well do you guys know your pain and suffering?" (also sorry only winners remember theory truthers)

The way Grian and Scar are such bitter ex-soulmates that Mumbo has to point it out is hilarious. (also them getting even and saying "Just like Third Life" hurt my heart)

Grian not remembering iconic moments from his own series is so funny. What do you mean he only knows Martyn beheaded Ren with an axe from fanart? Grian gaining possession of the Red Winter Axe was a whole plot point.

MUMBO FIRST OUT! IN SESSION 5! The canary curse is broken for real now guys but at what cost.

Grian standing on the ruins of the tower by himself going through the five stages of grief over Mumbo's death as the sun rises in the background is a gorgeous piece of fanart waiting to happen

Martyn you didn't need to start the episode by talking about how Ren is providing for you, you're asking for the shipping at this point 🤣

MARTYN YOU DO THE LORE OFC JIMMY AND TANGO WERE OUT FIRST. Also REN YOU WERE LITERALLY IN DOUBLE LIFE. RIP Ren/BigB we know where his true loyalties lie

THE TWO NICKLES MEME BREAKING CONTAINMENT I CAN'T

Ren inviting BigB to join the RenWood Mound alliance WITHOUT REMEMBERING DOUBLE LIFE is so insane I don't even know what to say.

OF COURSE SCAR REMEMBERS THE DESERT DUO FLOWERS I'M GOING TO BE SICK

Martyn and Ren saying they're going to be boat bros. This has been coming since last session but I NEED Joel and Etho to call them out on it

"We're boat boys," MARTYN INTHELITTLEWOOD WHEN I CATCH YOU-

Etho yelling for Bdubs to hit him so they could test if the wildcard affected damage and then Tango going "smack me harder~" in the background was diabolical. Suuuure you guys are all PG.

Etho sitting in a boat for Joel to jump over him feels like some boat boys relationship symbolism I'm not smart enough to explain

So Etho is currently living with team BET, but allied with the Four Gs, and in the family with Gem and Joel. Wildcard Etho is so back!

Of course Impulse immediately remembered the clock question.

Joel boasting about how he immediately knows all the questions is peak Joel form and I would expect nothing less. It is kind of warranted though because everybody else is waffling on the simple ones.

Joel is now two for two on unquestioningly trusting Etho only to have something bad happen to him and not even being mad about it what is wrong with this man 😭

Does Joel have the censor bleep on his keyboard or did he just straight up start swearing at Tango and know they would both have to censor it in post to get the effect that he was also making the noise?

Scott's gone from a creaking fanboy to a body horror situation and I'm living for it (also considering he's agreed to "go wild" this session--am I sensing a Scott corruption arc?)

Scott cutting directly from saying he and Jimmy were never married even though they called each other husbands to a scene WITH Jimmy was kind of an insane choice

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Girldad has been confirmed by Scott as the actual reason for the 4Gs. I still think Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss ImpulseSV is funnier but good to have an official ruling

Scott giving up his life for Pearl and them being good natured about it and calling it therapy! I love them so much!

Lizzie being the only person who's not exicted when a trivia bot spawns is so funny. Even the other players who weren't in all the seasons don't seem to be as miffed by them as she is.

Lizzie's flaming snail arising out of that hole while smiling is potentially the funniest thing I've seen all day. Why did it look like that 🤣

[weenwrites]

Decepticons/autobots of your choice reacting to gn reader that is 7'0 and is in the military and always cover their face up (like ghost from call of duty modern warfare) because of one mission that went wrong and they have scars on their face and body from the failed mission and they think the bots/cons of your choice will call them ugly but soon they got comfortable with them and showed them their face?

I just need some angst and fluff and the end and oh! Make gn reader cry when the bots/cons call them beautiful.

Dont forget to drink some water and eat something!

Have a good year :D

✎A/N: I am so sorry this took an eternity to get out.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Megatron

When he initially met you, your height certainly helped to make you stand out from all the other humans he's seen (which isn't many), however it wasn't enough. It's like seeing a large, blue marble in a pile of smaller blue marbles. Strange, but not surprising or interesting for long, and eventually it becomes just something that happens to be that way. Once the initial intrigue wore off, he thought that would be that, yet he was wrong.

Your abilities and skills proved to be rather impressive, and he surmised that were you not human, but rather a cybertronian among his ranks your skill would surpass even the skill of some of the more elite vehicons among their ranks. Despite your circumstances, you managed to overcome the unthinkable, and as such you rightfully earned his respect.

Megatron doesn't see scars as anything ugly or shameful, he sees them as medals of valor—as signs that you survived something that tried to take your life, and he believes that's something to be proud of. His love for you goes deeper than superficial appearances, after all you have earned his respect and admiration with more than just your looks. So of course he wouldn't think any less of you, scars or no scars.

Arcee

She initially never thought much of how you always hid your face. If anything, she just assumed it was part of your uniform and since you were busy with work a majority of the time she figured that's the reason you kept it on so often. Granted, she's heard the kids talk about it and theorize why you wear it so much that it's gotten her the slightest bit interested (and amused at their theories).

Scars can be ugly things, she understands that well. And not just ugly in the sense that they can be disturbing to look at but rather in reference to the deeper, more complicated feelings surrounding them as well as how they got there in the first place. It'll forever mar your body, and depending on what caused it, that scar could haunt you both physically and mentally. She can understand your feelings surrounding your own scars, believe her, she has many of her own that she has complicated feelings around.

But though you're covered head to toe in scars, she'd truthfully tell you that they do not change the way she feels about you in the slightest. She doesn't find them repulsive or disgusting since she can sympathize with the pain surrounding your scars.

Bulkhead

Given the fact the two of you happen to share similar experiences, it wasn't difficult for a sense of camaraderie and friendship to grow rather fast (though it could've happened the same way regardless of whether he knew about your background or not). Whether you were fond of sharing accounts of your previous battles or not, Bulkhead was certainly one to tell a tale of his own experiences.

The way he recounted the tale with descriptive, and riveting words made it easy to forget the fact he was telling a tale about a bloody war he experienced first-hand. But as time grew on, these tales slowly transitioned from stories about the war to stories about his life before it happened. His experiences in construction, silly happenstances that he looks back upon fondly, and old friends that are likely long gone.

It's ironic, you'd think he'd be happier to speak about times before the war and yet it's only harder for him. It's clear in the way he seems to begin to trail off, and loose his train of thought as he reminisces over what he had, and how things used to be.

His view of his scars starkly contrasts your own. He views scars as something to boast—something to be proud of—something that shows that he leapt into something ugly and beat, shot, punched, and smashed his way out of it to walk away to tell the tale. The way he sees it, those scars are a sign that you survived to be here with him today, and he wouldn't have you any differently.

Perhaps as the two of you bond, his own way of thinking about his scars begins to rub off on you too, and you start to see these scars in a different light. With each compliment he gives you in passing from day to day, the sadness or shame once associated with them grows smaller in comparison to the swelling newfound sense of pride.

[sshadowritestoriess]

I apologize because I know you get a lot of ramattra requests, but can I request a sexually frustrated ramattra?

No problem, this was fun to think about honestly :]

Sexually Frustrated Ramattra

Ramattra is already a very stressed-out and aggravated omnic, so I am in full belief that he would not be able to recognize right away where this new kind of frustration is stemming from

And it would drive him to the brink of insanity. He would seek solutions, first: being somewhat of a workaholic, he’d frantically complete task after task until he has nothing left to finish for that day, maybe even for that week, before he finally allows himself to sit down and meditate for a few hours.

But no matter how deeply he breathes or how still he sits, no matter how many times he refreshes his thoughts and (quite literally) clears his mind, he cannot shake this internal burning feeling that nips at his very fingertips and makes him want to scream

He would resign the peaceful exercise for something more exerting; violence. Practicing the martial arts he was taught at the shambali, kicking and punching at practice-bots and dummies, reaching the point of tearing one apart limb-from-limb and ripping into the center of its intricate chassis— pulling out wires like a child would do to grass in a temper-tantrum

And then the object of his infatuation would pass him by in this all-too-embarrassing moment, asking if he was okay, and then it would click for him. But who was he to ask for that kind of aid after being seen like this?

He would assure you that he’s fine, then escapes your presence to try to take care of it himself, hiding away in his own quarters and stroking himself off with an intense quickness to try and make it go away. Refreshing his systems to rid of this error.

He’s rough with himself, leaning hard into a wall and pulling at a fistful of his cabled mane until he hears the wire enamels creak and snap in his fingers, damaging his own ‘hair’. His hands are just my no means soft, providing an intense friction around his synthetic sex.

So as the Iris would have it, his own stimulation and imagination would not be enough to satiate this cursed sense of hunger.

He would try to disconnect his copulative attachments after some failed attempts to provide himself relief, yet the cravings would remain, just slightly altered for lack of equipment. He still needed to have someone near, to feel hands that weren’t his own reaching into the crevices of his body to force his guard down. He needed to relax at someone else’s bidding. He had just had far too much time by himself and his codependence trait had finally unraveled.

And everything about it makes him angry about the entire world around him, including himself. So the second time he bumps into you, much later in the evening, he’s somewhat hunched over and marching down a hall from his headquarters, red and yellow glimpses of wires practically glowing with a display of rage from the new tears in his cables. There’s always been an air about Ramattra that seems dangerous— but now especially, it felt that he may kill the next thing that enters a ten-foot radius around him.

So you would stop before getting to close, and he’d freeze just the same, staring at you through the dark slits of his faceplate. You could see the way his shoulders rose and fell in a more exaggerated manner, as if he was breathing heavy in his anger (though he doesn’t breathe at all).

It’s not at all difficult to guess he has had a very rough day. And he would further hate himself when you cautiously ask again if he was doing alright— clearly, he wasn’t, but it was invitation to speak or ask for help. And with a small pause in reluctance, feeling far more embarrassed than he would have liked (especially for spending half the day trying to get off) he would.

“I need… assistance,” The word would be hissed out as if he had gritted teeth, “for something far more mundane and—“ he’d force his gaze away from you, “—private than our usual tasks.”

You’d ask what it is he needs, of course. There’s an air of nervousness between you both— Ramattra in fear of dragging himself further through this muddy situation, and destroying all chances of you feeling comfortable around him ever again for what he’d like to ask of you.

But he’s already found himself here and has run out of ideas, and he’s not the omnic to put things very lightly. So he’d just come out and say it.

“Sex.” The word is spat as though it offended him, and he’d drop his head toward the ground with a defeated sigh. He’d raise a hand and roll his wrist almost dismissively, “I cannot bring myself to function without this lingering frustration for the moment, so if you would like to help or have any suggestions that would ensure this feeling goes away, I would certainly appreciate it.”

[winxanity-ii]

⌜I Love, Robot | Chapter 02 Chapter 02 | history. . . loading⌟

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Over the next few years, things began to change. You noticed the distance between you and Rain growing, the once-strong bond you shared slowly fraying like the worn-out edges of an old blanket.

It wasn't something you could put your finger on at first, just a creeping sense of separation that settled in your chest whenever you caught sight of her from across the room.

You'd see her more often now with the colony kids, laughing and chatting, a bright spark among the worn and weary.

At first, you were happy to see her connecting with others, but then you realized she was spending more time with them than she was with you.

It hurt, but you understood. She needed friends her own age, a distraction from the hardships that seemed to hover over all of your lives like a dark cloud.

You were about 19, maybe 20, when everything took a darker turn. You'd been freelancing for a while—small jobs that kept you under the radar, nothing too flashy.

That was until a desperate small business, teetering on the edge of collapse, sought your skills.

You were hesitant, but the pay was decent, and the work seemed straightforward enough: hacking into some old systems, unlocking what was needed to keep them afloat.

And it was a success. Or at least, you thought it was.

But success came with consequences. You didn't realize you’d been tracked, not until someone with far more power than you could fathom found you.

They came to you with an ultimatum, their voice smooth but with an undercurrent of steel that sent a chill down your spine: work for them, take on any job they needed, or they’d turn you over to Weyland-Yutani.

You knew what that meant. You'd seen enough to understand the company didn’t tolerate dissent, especially from a former prodigy with a name they hadn't forgotten.

That's when your life took a dangerous path. You agreed to their terms, the fear of what could happen if you didn't outweighing any hesitation.

The jobs started simple but quickly escalated. Hacking turned into more complex coding, cracking into secure systems, sometimes even building or reprogramming androids and bots—a skill you honed under Marcus's watchful eye.

The pay was good, better than anything you could have made in the colony, and for a while, it seemed worth it.

But it wasn't just the money that kept you going. The promise of protection from other dangerous groups, black-market dealers who might see your skills as a threat, was a lifeline you couldn’t ignore.

To protect Rain and her family, your small, adopted family, you began staying out later, sometimes disappearing for days at a time. At first, Marcus and his wife were upset, worried about your well-being and what could be keeping you away.

Rain, especially, couldn't understand why you'd suddenly become so distant, why you weren't around as much. Her confusion and hurt were plain to see, and it tore at you in ways you couldn't explain.

Marcus eventually eased up on the questioning after he found you one night in the throes of a particularly bad meltdown. You'd come home after a job went sideways—something you hadn't anticipated, a system you couldn't crack in time, and the fallout had been brutal.

You couldn't tell Marcus what had happened, not exactly, but he didn’t push. He simply sat with you in the dim light of the kitchen, his presence a steady, calming force as you tried to pull yourself back together.

"If you ever need to talk," he'd said softly, his voice thick with the kind of understanding only someone who’d lived through hardship could have, "I'm here. You know that, right?"

You nodded, though you knew you'd never burden him with the weight of what you were involved in. This was a part of your life you'd chosen to keep to yourself, a dark secret that had become a necessary evil. And even though you trusted Marcus, you couldn't bring yourself to let him in on this one truth.

But life has a cruel way of taking away the things you hold dear, doesn't it?

Just a few weeks after your 21st birthday, Marcus and his wife fell ill. The colony's cold, damp air had always been harsh, but the pneumonia they caught from the mines was unlike anything they'd faced before.

You watched helplessly as the sickness took hold, their bodies weakened by years of toil in the toxic conditions of Jackson Star. It was like watching your own parents waste away all over again—a slow, painful decline that left you feeling powerless and lost.

Rain was a mess, her normally bright, fiery spirit dulled by the looming reality of losing her parents. She tried to stay strong, but you could see the cracks forming in her armor.

You did everything you could to help, taking over the household duties, scrounging for medicine, anything to ease their suffering, but deep down, you knew there was nothing that could be done.

The disease had sunk its claws in too deep.

One night, as you sat by Marcus's bedside, his breathing ragged and shallow, he reached out, his hand weak but insistent. You took it, holding on tightly, just like you had with your own father all those years ago. The weight of his grip was lighter than you remembered, his strength all but gone.

"Y/N…" he rasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of his labored breaths. "Take care of her… take care of Rain…"

Tears welled in your eyes as you nodded, unable to speak. "I will..." you whispered, your voice breaking. "...I promise."

He smiled faintly, a shadow of his old, warm smile. "Good… that's… good…"

You stayed with him until the end, just as you had with your parents. And when the time came, when the house fell silent except for the soft sobs of Rain and the hollow echo of your own grief, you knew that once again, you were left holding onto the pieces of a shattered life.

And this time, you would do whatever it took to keep Rain safe.

No matter what.

☆

☆

Three years had passed since your adoptive parents' death, and in that time, life had only grown more complicated. You returned from your latest job—a grueling five-day ordeal that left you exhausted and hollow inside.

This time, you'd been tasked with hacking into Weyland-Yutani's high-security network, retrieving files that exposed a chilling directive: in moments of crisis, their synthetics were programmed to prioritize the company's assets over human lives, all under the guise of logical probability.

The job paid well, enough to secure you and Rain's needs for the next six months, but the price was high.

The screams and pleas of employees who’d been betrayed by the very machines meant to protect them echoed in your mind, refusing to let go. You tried to shake the images away as you made your way through the dim, narrow corridors of the small home you shared with Rain.

Entering the room, you found her curled up on your bed, her small frame wrapped around your pillow, her face buried into the soft fabric as she slept. You approached quietly, the soft sound of your footsteps barely audible over the hum of the heating unit.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you reached out and gently brushed your fingers through her hair. Rain instinctively leaned into your touch, a small sigh escaping her lips as she snuggled deeper into your pillow.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, though your heart felt heavy. Watching her sleep so peacefully, so unaware of the horrors you'd just witnessed, was both a comfort and a curse.

You knelt beside her, continuing to stroke her hair, trying to silence the panicked screams still echoing in your mind. Just as you began to lose yourself in the motion, Rain stirred.

Groggily, she opened her eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep. She gave you a tired smile. "Hey," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," you replied softly, your smile widening despite the weight on your chest.

Rain's brow furrowed slightly as she looked up at you, sensing that something was off. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice a little clearer, more alert.

You shook your head, stilling your hand. "Nothing," you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just go back to sleep, Rain. It's late."

She hesitated but nodded, a yawn escaping her lips as she turned over, curling up again. "Okay... But could you look over Andy?” she asked sleepily, her voice trailing off. "His eyes... something's wrong with them. He's already in the workshop, in sleep mode, waiting."

"Sure, I'll take care of him," you promised, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. She mumbled a thank you, already drifting back to sleep as you stood up and quietly made your way out of the room.

You moved through the darkened house, your steps light and measured to avoid waking Rain. Despite the pitch-black surroundings, you knew every inch of this place—every loose floorboard, every creaky door hinge.

It wasn't hard to navigate to the small workshop in the back, a space that had become both a sanctuary and a battlefield for your mind.

Without turning on the main lights, you reached for the small lamp on your workbench, flicking it on and casting a soft, warm glow over the room.

In the corner, covered by a sheet, was Andy. You pulled a rolling stool behind you as you approached, removing the sheet with a practiced motion to reveal the android beneath.

Andy's face was serene, almost peaceful in the dim light. The shadows cast by the lamp danced across his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the soft curve of his lips.

Despite knowing he was a machine, you couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship—the subtle blend of human and synthetic, the way his face seemed almost too real.

You reached out, gently cupping the side of his face, your fingers tracing the contours of his jaw. His synthetic skin was cool to the touch, but familiar. Your hand moved to the side of his neck, pressing the small port to awaken him.

The change was immediate. Andy's body tensed, his right hand shooting up to grab your wrist with surprising speed and strength. His eyes flickered to life, emitting a soft glow in the darkness. "Shh, it's okay," you whispered softly, not pulling away. "Sorry to startle you."

At the sound of your voice, Andy's grip loosened, his eyes quickly focusing on you. "Y/N," he said, his voice calm and even. "You're back."

You offered him a small smile before turning to grab your diagnostics tablet. "I've only been gone for five days," you said, connecting the tablet to the port in his neck and starting the diagnostic test.

Andy blinked as if you'd made the dumbest statement ever. "Five days is more than enough time for someone to be missed."

You giggled softly at his matter-of-fact tone. "Thanks, Dee." You glanced at the screen, focusing on the data streaming in. "Rain mentioned you've been having issues with your eyes. Can you tell me more about that?"

Andy's eyes flickered for a moment before he answered. "I... I can still see, but my vision sometimes become foggy. It affecting my ability to accurately assess situations and objects."

You nodded thoughtfully, continuing to run the diagnostics as you chatted with him, your fingers moving deftly across the tablet. "I see... We'll get it sorted. So, how have things been while I was gone?"

Andy remained still, his gaze fixed on you. "Rain and I have missed you."

A warm smile tugged at your lips. "I've missed you both too." You paused, reflecting on how much had changed since the day you found Andy in that scrapyard.

Your perception of synthetics had shifted over the years.

You'd never treated them as mere machines, but having one as a constant companion had blurred the lines between man and machine.

Despite knowing he wasn't human, Andy's human-like qualities were something you cherished. They made him unique, almost... alive in a way that was hard to define.

The soft beep from the tablet pulled you back to the present. You looked down, seeing the source of the issue on the screen. "Ahh," you sighed, turning the tablet to show Andy.

The screen was filled with lines of code, complex and unintelligible to most. To anyone else, or even to an android whose primary function wasn’t related to programming, this would have been complete nonsense. But since bringing Andy back online, you'd made it your mission to always explain everything you did to him, guiding him through each process.

Part of you believed he deserved to know, a small gesture of respect for the android who had become so much more than just a machine.

But there was another reason, a darker thought that lingered in the back of your mind: the possibility that one day, you might not be around to help him.

You wanted Andy to understand his own systems and the intricacies of his coding—not just to function but to ensure he could take care of himself if the worst were ever to happen.

Andy studied the code intently, his synthetic mind processing the information with an almost human-like concentration. "There is an error in the environmental calibration subroutine," he noted, identifying part of the issue correctly.

You chuckled, impressed. "Close, Dee. But, you got most of it right." You pointed to a specific line of code. "This here—it needs an update. The last patch didn't account for the increased levels of smog and soot in the colony's air. It's affecting your visual processors."

Routine set in as you continued to work. "What is your directive, Andy?" you asked out of habit, fingers moving swiftly to implement the necessary changes.

Andy responded almost instantly. "To do what's best for Rain."

A second passed, and then he spoke again, his voice softer. "Do you ever think about changing the directive?"

You paused, fingers hovering over the screen as you looked up at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about, Dee?"

Andy hesitated for a moment, his eyes studying you with a strange intensity. "The day Marcus uploaded my directive, I remember asking him if the girl standing above me when I first came back online was Rain. He to me it was you, Y/N."

You laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Did you ask him if I was a great hacker too?"

Andy's expression remained serious, his voice steady. "No. I asked him, 'But what about what's best for Y/N?'"

Your fingers stilled on the tablet, and for a moment, you didn't know what to say. You looked up at Andy, his face soft with an expression you couldn't quite place.

A small, self-deprecating laugh escaped your lips. "What's best for me? Ha, I've never been too good at figuring that out. If I had a directive for myself, it'd probably be something like 'make everything harder than it needs to be.'"

Andy let out a low hum, his gaze unwavering. "Even if it's not my directive, just know, I'll still want what's best for you."

You blinked back the tears welling in your eyes, quickly turning your focus back to the tablet. "Thanks, Andy," you whispered, your voice barely audible. You continued your work in silence, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket.

Andy's head tilted slightly, his eyes zeroing in on your face as if committing this moment to memory. "Of course, Y/N... anytime."

The remainder of the time was spent in a comfortable silence as you finished updating his code. You leaned back with a sigh, setting your tablet down beside you. "How are you feeling now, Andy?"

The android paused for a moment, then said, "Well, it's better than before. But if my vision gets any worse, I guess you could say... my future won't be looking 'too bright'."

You just blinked at him, taken aback by the unexpected joke, before laughter bubbled out of your lips. "Was that a 'dad joke'? Where did you learn that from?"

Andy's eyes seemed to brighten, and he sat up a little straighter. "I learned it while walking Rain to work the other day," he explained. "I like them."

You chuckled, warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of Andy picking up on humor. "Well, I'll be sure to learn some more and tell you. We can make it a little hobby between the two of us."

Andy nodded earnestly, his expression softening. "I'd like that. Sharing experiences can strengthens bonds."

You couldn't help but smile at his earnestness. "You're right about that, Dee. We can even start a collection of the worst jokes we can find."

For a moment, the room felt lighter, the shadows less heavy. Andy's presence, his attempts at humor, made the grim reality outside these walls feel a little less suffocating.

It was moments like this that reminded you why you fought so hard to keep your small world safe, even when everything else seemed so uncertain.

A/N: Ahhhh! sorry for things moving thigns so fast with all the time skips, but if you're confused, by the end of this chapter You're like 24-ish and Rain is 21, i'm following fandom ages instead of rain's confirmed 25 age. also, sorry for the long 2 intro chapters, i know most would like to just jump right into the story, but my mind wont let the good stuff happen until it at least lay down the lil backstory 😭💀💀 man, i really need to learn to get over that, but anywhoooo, hope you guys like this enough, thoguh it isn't obvious, i want this to be a sort of a slow-burn, well, on the reader's end at least, lolol, Andy's gonna go full speed tbh, but then again, that's why he's a yandere here.... hope i dont bore you guys too much, but dont fret, next chapter will start immediately with the plot! also, someone asked me to make a tag list so i'll just put that down below:

Tag List: @dreamsarenicer

[moominmanoneandonly]

Amazing what you can accomplish while having a bad time. My long overdue GladiatorMeg AU designs + lore. (Those are not 100% accurate since I am still working on the world building, and depending on that, it will change.)

Size ranked

Shockwave & Starscream lore

•Starscream "prince of Vos" is a figurehead that's used to make Vos look like something fancy and separate from the Senate and Primes council rule however the truth is they not much different and mostly just get bribed to do what it wants. Starscream altrought he acts in control can't decide about enything in his life, he can't be a scientist becouse it's for lower classes, he can't rule because they won't let him and he I supposed to be conjunxed of for money. He attends gladiator fights because it's a good way to flaunt his non-existent power (+he likes the violence). He sees Megatron as pathetic for thinking he can change anything. He wants to break him and buys him as a bodyguard to do so. That spirals into them actually getting along (somehow), bonding over disgust of Vos "monarchy," and he agrees to help under the condition he gets to be an actual ruler and can kill his conjunx. It's a very big conflict between the two since Megatron wants to obalish monarchy entirely, but oh well, they figure it out somehow, I'm sure. (He's also the oldest of the 4 and has complex because of this since other royals call him wasted goods and stuff. He tries his best to look as young as possible)

•Shockwave "the senator". Similarly to Starscream, he lacks any actual power. He gets into the senate due to his sire at a young age and becouse of that he's not taken serous. He's a mascot to them, something nice to look at and otherwise ignore. He does get to influence votes sometimes. However, it's rare and seen by others as a "childish whimsy." Him and Orion actually know each other and have similar personalities. However, Shockwave differs by being strongly resentful and easily discouraged. He doesn't believe a revolution makes sense. Since "Senat always gets its way." That's said he does respect Megatron enough to pretend he cares. They meet when Shockwave sire hired Megatron as a prost1tute to make sure he doesn't grow to resentful and have something to occupy his mind. Megatron used him to steal from the Senate, but with time, they kinda got along. Megatron also teached Shockwave how to fight and kill at some point, which turned out to be pretty messy because surprise, surprise home schooled rich boy actually likes to see people suffer and die by his hands.

Also, this part probably could get its own post, but for now: Shockwave despises his body. He was made by his sire to look eye-catching, but it ended up very tacky and overexagerated. He is constantly objectified and not taken seriously because of it. There's this rule where colorfull mechs are either very rich or just pleasure bots. Both him and Starscream suffer from that. He also hates his mindset as a whole since it's very emotionally driven, which is the reason people never took him seriously. While the story progresses, he gets to change his colours for the purple we all know while the empurata comes after as a punishment for being a traitor to the Senate. (Spoilers. He really loves it). He really doesn't get Megatron but wants to be at his side. He kinda objectifies him to get stuff out of his system, tho. Megatron fears him at some point but gets used to his creepy behaviours. (He feels guilty about the empurata thing) Shockwave likes to be dependent on.

I tried to present the 4 of them as different takes on lack of autonomy in different casts. I'm not sure if it worked out. I'm still working on it.

+fun fact, I trought about Starscream and Shockwave being in an eranged marriage for like keeping up appearances or something and I'm not sure if it would improve the plot but it for sure would be a fun dynamic. Starscream would be such a hater of Shockwave paintjob.

[drabbletron]

Domesticity and Other Distractions: Hound x Reader fic (PART 3)

|| Another short one, but the next part will be longer and focus on how friendship turned into romantic inclinations for reader and Hound. I really do love that mech lol ||

p fluffy under the cut

mentions of a sucky ex

“Looks cozy,” Hound takes a moment to step inside where the carpet sinks beneath him. It’s like walking around in a meadow after a fresh rain and the earth is soft and malleable. He moves through the space and inspects every inch he can and just finds more and more things that fit your personality. The little trinkets that line your bookshelf, the wall art and posters, the color of the curtains and the things that hang from the ceiling. All of it is so undeniably you and he can’t get enough of this place, so alien and yet so like his own space. A thought flashes in his processor: would a house with you look like this too? How would your stuff and his stuff look sitting on the shelf side-by-side? Would fresh flowers be something you’d be interested in keeping in the kitchen or in the living room? Well damn, maybe he should just ask you to move in? You’d never have to clean up after others, you’d have more space for all your stuff, and the two of you could spend so much more time together!

But he couldn’t ask that of you. The two of you have only really been serious for a couple months now and have barely graduated past kissing and hugging, and even all of that is so sparse with him being a scout. Plus, it’d be much too dangerous for you to just waltz around the base where any bot could accidentally squish you. Maybe he’s crazy for wanting that with you, at least so early on. Best let you take care of the pacing. Whatever you decide is fine with him as long as you’re together.

Hound turns back to you and sees you folding down the bedding and fluffing the squishy pillows at the top. He knows that being in this holomatter body isn’t the most ideal, and it can be a bit tedious to pilot, but he’s thankful for the ability since it’s likely his actual body, even with mass displacement, would crush the little berth you sleep in. He makes his way over and helps himself to climbing into it with you, careful to get rid of the boots on his avatar. When he first laid with you on the couch you made mention that putting feet coverings on furniture was frowned upon and even seen as disrespectful to some. Since then, he does his best to make sure to keep his off of anything even remotely furniture like, especially the soft kind.

As he lays beside you a sense of peace washes over him, and the moment is only enhanced when you cuddle up next to his side in the crook of his arm. You drape a hand over his chest and a leg over his hip to snuggle deeper into the blankets.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve laid with someone like this. Your last relationship wasn’t much of a cuddler and seemed to always have “something come up” when you’d brought up the idea of staying over.

They hardly seemed to give you the time of day when it was something you wanted, but when they wanted something, it was all sorts of important. It never mattered if you were busy or your plans conflicted with theirs, if they wanted something they did their best to get it. Guilt tripping was their favorite thing to do, almost a second hobby to them, and ‘If you love me’ was a popular staple in their vocabulary. You never told Hound about them. It would be too upsetting for you to talk about anyway, and you doubt he’d want to hear about why you were so hesitant to let him in when you two first started this relationship.

You’d known Hound for a good year and a half before either of you made any sort of movement towards the romantic, and that first moment you realized he cared like that terrified you.

[yanderes-galore]

Hi Panther,

Transformers ask? May I please make make a romantic yandere request for a oneshot with Yan!Tarn with a Neutral!Bot reader and propmts 2, 30, and 46. I was thinking of the idea in fannon where Deceptacon culture dictates the dominant con claws or bites a nasty wound that scars as a mark as “Mine” usually as a mate.

Sure, I'm not well versed in Transformers fanon as I try to keep it as canon as possible. Yet the concept seems pretty basic so I'll try.

Still relatively new to the comics and I'm not that far so if information is off, that's why.

Energon is depicted as pink in this as the comics usually use this as the color from what I've seen.

Yandere! Tarn Prompts 2, 30, 46

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you!"

"Those lasting marks are signs of our love!"

"Even monsters can love, can't they...?"

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Marking/Injury, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship, Possessive behavior, Not much plot... mostly just a kidnapping scene/plot, Transformer fanon HCs as a plot point, Mentions of "Mate", Cybertronian/Cybertronian, Bleeding, Vague implication of stalking, Graphic scene (?).

"You'll tire eventually, that's fine, I can wait."

Tarn's calm and patient when pursuing what he wants. Patience is something he's had to learn in his line of work. That and loyalty.

Tarn knew eventually he'd have you in his claws. Honestly, he couldn't wait for it. He had been eying you for a long time as a potential partner for himself.

You're a neutral party... something that can easily be changed once he has you. Part of him originally wanted to take you in to convert you. Now it seems he has... ulterior motives.

Tarn has never considered a Conjunx Endura. He had loyally followed Megatron's teachings and that's where most of his life has gone. Then he saw you... Decepticon potential in his eyes.

That and Conjunx Endura potential.

Even as you run from him in a pitiful display, Tarn indulges in the chase. It's a little game to entertain himself before he claims you. He'll allow you to think you have a choice in the matter.

Oh, naive bot... you never had a choice the moment he picked you.

"You're making this harder than it has to be. Your spark is safe with me. All you need to do is surrender!"

At this point he's taunting you. Tarn is already plotting how to corner you. Each movement he does is calculated, predicting your every move.

Right... until... you're right where he wants you.

Tarn feels excitement swell within him when he finally manages to corner you. He sees you run into a dead end and realize you're trapped. You stare at him with many emotions swimming in your optics.

Tarn sees confusion... fear... and aggression. Fear is the strongest emotion that clouds your vision. Tarn can tell you have a vague sense of who he is.

Pride fills him while he steps closer.

"Game's over, my little Conjunx Endura. I do believe you've worked us both up enough."

Tarn's voice is teasing... while barely concealing a deep hunger within. You stare up at him with more confusion and disgust than fear for a moment. The looks you give him drive him crazy.

Oh... he picked well.

"Now... will you come with me willingly..." Tarn drawls, trapping you between him and the wall.

"Or will I have to get the D.J.D involved?"

Reluctantly, as he expected, you agree to come with him to his base of operations.

To him, that's already a good sign you'll be a behaved partner once he marks you.

---

Sounds of metal on metal echoed through the room. Pain coursed through you and it was all you could even think about. Even with the red eyes glaring down at you in possessive aggression... your mind only thought of the pain.

"I took you in for a reason..." The Decepticon hisses out. You hear your own metal creak as he digs his claws into you. You swore you felt Energon trickle down. "I chose you to be mine... my mate... I think I've waited long enough to mark you."

Tarn then pulls your chin to make you focus on him.

"Haven't I been nice and patient enough with you?"

You shudder against him, trying to break eye contact to see the damage. Tarn doesn't allow you to look and brings your eyes back to him. For a brief moment you see the look in his eyes soften.

"Those lasting marks are signs of our love." Tarn hums, sitting you up. You see him pull his claws out of the wound and catch a glimpse of vibrant pink liquid dribble down them. You feel ill and the pain throbs... you decide not to focus on his claws.

"It's an honor for someone such as me to take you in and love you." Tarn praises you, eying the Energon on his hands. "A mark as deep as this will show every Decepticon I claim you."

"Am I going to die?" You heave.

"I'd never let you." Tarn replies, already preparing to call over Nickel to stop the bleeding. "You'll live... and have a pretty scar to remind everyone of what has happened."

Tarn then leans over you to brush his other hand across the side of your face. His eyes hold what appears to be adoration... but it's wrong. Anyone who really loved you wouldn't gouge a hole into your side so you spilled Energon on the ground.

"After this you're no longer a neutral party... you're a Decepticon." Tarn continues, gaze never leaving you. "I've claimed you, I've marked you, and I plan to brand you when you heal."

Tarn's tone sounds confident and pleased. You narrow your eyes at him and try to push him away. He doesn't budge.

"You're a monster... get away from me...." You hiss. Tarn makes a displeased scoff before leaning away from you. You'd take time to convert.

He'll just have to find more patience it seems....

"Even monsters can love, can't they...?" Tarn muses. "Eventually you'll understand."

Tarn presses his mask to your forehead and you flinch back. It was meant to be a comforting kiss. To you... it's anything but.

"Nickel will nurse you back to health." Tarn tells you, picking you up to transport you. His grasp his tight... Energon still dripping from his claws. As he walks with you, his gaze meets yours again.

"Until you're well rested... I'll be waiting, Conjunx Endura."

[givemeyams]

Can I help you?

Lost Light x (gn)reader

Content: mtmte oc insert, Lost Light x (GN)Reader, [Fluff], discontinued

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.4K

--- BUDDY ---

Puyo has been missing for an hour now and Buddy was getting worried. Zorabora was a small Zatu trade colony, it shouldn’t be this hard to find a glowing amorphic slimeball. Stall after stall, it seemed that none of the locals noticed the creature. While the slime was damn near unkillable, the pilot hoped that Puyo didn’t get captured. Exotic traders would pay an arm and a leg for a tamed mimic.

With the ships electrical systems fried, Buddy had no way of locating their dear companion. Worse still, none of the local technicians had the skill to reinstall the communication and navigational arrays to get it back online. They had to rely on a short range radio they jimmied up earlier.

Where could Puyo have gone? Was she hungry? Scared? This was so unlike her to wander off in an unknown area. The human felt a cool droplet. Damn, once the rain starts it will be hell to navigate the area. Their head whipped toward the bolt that streaked across the sky. One second. Two second. Three. The thunder shook the ground and a shrill scream cut through the street. That was her. The human took off into the street. Puyo was nearby.

--- SWERVE ---

Swerve had seen rain within Earth media countless times before. So much of their culture revolves around the precipitation of dihydrogen monoxide. It made sense. Without water, much of life on Earth would die. There was so much emotion portrayed in movies and shows when rain is involved. Couples breaking up in a rainstorm. A tragedy from a flood. The joy of children running through puddles. Yet, feeling the droplets against his holoform seemed, what’s the word? Underwhelming.

“You know, I always wondered how our holoforms would react to lightning.” Said Skids.

The bartender turned to the other, horrified. “Don’t jinx it. I think I remember something about circuit burns from Magnus’ projection safety pamphlets.”

“I’m more worried about this little one. He’s been shaking ever since the storm was in audial range.” Said Rung softly, petting the slime in his arms.

Skids nudged his face towards the creature, cooing, “Never seen a mimic this tame before. The wee thing likes ya.”

Swerve inched closure, “It is kind of cute. It’s like an Earth kitten. If the kitten was blue, and it lacked the legs, tail, fur, and a face.”`

“So nothing like a kitten at all,” chuckled Skids.

“Its eyes are yellow so close enough.” Huffed Swerve. “Say, if we don’t find the owner, think we can hide it from Ultra Magnus. We can keep it on my habsuite and take turns feeding it. That means we should give it a name. We should call it ‘Boba.’ Like the drink.”

“I like ‘Bubbles’ better,” the taller mech said.

The phycologist shook his head, “While I do not condone smuggling lifeforms onboard the ship. I do feel like it is our responsibility to ensure its well-being.”

Swerve nodded, “Exactly, that is why if we ta-“ the thunder crackled above. Then the creature let out a piercing cry. “What the Frag was that? What happened? Is it hurt?”

Rung struggled to grip the fluid creature as it wriggled in his arms. “I think that it’s frightened, the poor thing. Maybe we should go inside so it can calm down.”

“Ai. Probably for the best. Rains coming down hard. I don’t know about you, but soggy clothes aren’t that comfortable,” supplied skids.

Just then, a voice echoed across the still busy street, causing the bots to jump. The three turned. The sound was getting closer, until a small bipedal being could be seen barreling towards them.

Puuuuuuuuuuuuyyyyyoooooo!

Swerve gasp. It was a human. A real human. They practically slid in front of them, panting. When they looked up, they were radiating pure joy. In the rain, they looked mesmerizing.

“You found her,” They  said.

Skids and Rung looked at them with awe when the mimic vaulted into their arms. The effect was instant. The creature was purring as the human held them closure, relief on their face.

“You must be the owner,” said Rung smiling. “I am glad we were able to find you. The strength of your bond with each other is quite evident.”

The organic looked up, at all of them. “You have no idea. She is like family and I can’t thank you enough.” They then pointed at the building across the way. A bar. “Let me buy you a drink, it’s the least I can do.”

Rung frowned slightly, “Well you see-”

But he was cut off by the human, “I insist. Come on before we all get drenched,” they said. Their laughter was loud and boisterous.

Swerve looked at his companion, his shake with excitement, despite the fact that he was in his projected form. “Can we? I mean they did invite us.”

“It would be rude not to,” said Rung slowly.

Skids motioned them to follow, “You heard him, let's go.”

The minibot thought to himself. The rush of emotions from the human appearing out of nowhere to the constant pressure sensors triggering against the downpour. It made him feel lightheaded. Maybe this is why so much of human media portrays historic moments in the rain.

--- RUNG ---

Somehow through a whirlwind of events, Rung ended up here, on a remote organic settlement, at a restaurant, soon to be seated next to a human. His companions looked just as excited as he felt. As the most outgoing of the group, Skids looked ecstatic. He was like a sparkling with the way his head swiveled at every sight and sound. Next to him, Swerve had a more anxious expression. No doubt in anticipation from finally meeting a member of the species that occupied his interest.

As for himself, it had been a long time since he had felt this giddy. When he first began his search for the mimics owner, it was more out of civic duty. The creature had obviously been domesticated and it pained him to find such small thing lost and forgotten. He did not expect the sheer force of love and affection the human had for the creature, it was beautiful. Then in an instant, all that love and gratitude was projected onto him when they thanked him, it made his spark swell. There was such intensity in their optics, it felt like for the first time in centuries, he had been SEEN. He simply had to learn more about this individual.

“This is actually happening,” Swerve. mumbled to himself.

Next to him, Skids hung an arm around the man, “Easy there. You’ll be fine. Don’t overthink it.”

The minibot shot a pained look back. “Don’t overthink it. Don’t tell me that. It's like telling my processor to do the exact opposite.”

“Then talk it out bud. It's just a conversation. You're good at those.”

Rung smiled. It was nice to see Skids ease Swerve’s nervousness. His assurances did help as the mech calmed down. Just in time, the human strolled to the table, fabric in one hand and a plate of food in another.

“Here are some towels to dry yourselves with.” They said, passing the white cloth fragments to the mechs, then placing the plate down with a smile, “So the Zatu call this dish a Zeebriska. It’s the closest thing to Nachos I have eaten in a long time, feel free to have some.”

“Thank you, you didn’t have to.” replied Rung

“Though we really appreciate the gesture,” added Swerve. “After all we just re-I mean we just ate not too long ago.”

Wait, was that a smirk from the human? Rung could have sworn he saw their face looked amused, if only for a second. Then they shrugged, “More for me. I was serious earlier. If you see anything on the menu, it's my treat.”

“Thanks. You know, we never actually caught your name.” Said Skids.

The human laughed, “Right sorry, call me Buddy. And you said that you were Skids, Swerve and Rung. Did I get that correct?”

“Right on the money,” said Swerve. “So how did you end up out here?”

“I can ask you the same thing. I haven’t met another human in years.’m a courier. I deliver mail and other goods to remote settlements across the system.”

Swerve lit up, “You’re a regular adventurer then.”

Buddy smirked, “Something like that. Though I am stranded here for the moment. My ship's electrical systems got fried during a stellar storm in the Bybax System, with it, all navigational and communication equipment was lost. I haven’t been able to fix it since.”

Skids tilted his head, “Isn’t that two star systems away. How did you get here?”

“Hitched a ride with a Gren cargo freighter for three-quarters the way, then I piloted the rest.”

“No way you could have steered your ship on sight alone.” Skids gasp.

“Give me some credit. I had a calculator too.”

The other clapped, “You got skill, bud. I’ll give you that.”

Swerve shifted in his seat, “Yet you said you're still stranded?”

“It wasn’t exactly a soft landing.” they said. “I can handle structural repairs, it’s just I am clueless when it comes to anything software related. So I am grounded until I can find someone to fix the damage or I need to abandon the craft.”

The minibot nearly jumped, “Maybe you can come with us. We might have people that can help with that.”

“Swerve,” Rung warned. It's not that he didn’t want to help this individual, but it would be against ship policy to bring an alien race aboard. It was one thing, bringing a mimic. Those were non-organic, requiring little to no maintenance. This was a living, breathing sentient.

“Come on, Rung. Don’t you feel a little bad for them. We just need to convince Rodimus and Drift. Then Magnus will have to agree. You know we have room and the resources.”

“Look guys,” Buddy said, catching the bot's attention. “This is obviously a hot subject for you. I don’t want you to get in trouble on my behalf. If you really want to help, send me to your superiors and let me try to try to hash out a deal.”

Skids scratched his head, “Well, it might be a little more complicated than that.”

Everything paused. In an instant, the three autobots conversed over their comm units.

:Swerve: We should tell them. ::

:Skids: Okay, so you do it. ::

:Swerve: What? Why me? ::

:Skids: You were the one to offer our help. Gotta follow through. ::

:Swerve: What if I spook them. I mean, Cybertronians are universally hated around here. ::

:Skids: You just don’t want them to hate you. ::

:Swerve: You. You’re the worst. ::

:Rung: That’s enough, I will tell them. However you will be the one to appeal to Ultra Magnus. ::

:Swerve: Fine. Just promise me that you’ll back me when UM asks what happened. ::

:Skids: Course. ::

:Rung: You have my support. Now we have kept our guest waiting long enough. ::

Rung checked his internal clock. Their conversation lasted less than a minute. The human was still consuming their meal. He cleared his throat, taking hold of his glasses. “Buddy, there is something important we have neglected to mention.”

A quick glance to his fellow crew members. Both leaning in for the big reveal. Swerve looked like he was about to go offline at any moment, while Skids barely could hide a grin. Back to the human, they hummed in response, brow raised.

Rung frowned, “The truth is that we are Cybertronians disguised as humans.”

Dead silent between the three of them. Rung tracked her expression in real time. From the furl of the brow, widening eyes, and swallowing in quick succession. What he did not expect was an abrupt laugh. “Noble. I knew you weren’t human but cybertronian? It's an honor.”

Skids laughed along with the human, “You’re pretty clever. I like that.”

Swerve was on his feet, “You knew!? When? How?”

They shrugged, “As soon as you introduced yourselves. You see, we humans have a knack for picking up differences in our own. For example, ” Buddy held out a hand to Swerve. “May I?”

Swerve’s EM field was surging. Rung looked around, fearing the other xenos might pick up such a strong signature. Evidently, none seemed to notice, or at the very least contributed to the storm outside. It did not help that Skids was nearly keeled over from his giggling. “Sure,” the minibot squeaked.

Buddy cupped two hands around his one. “Incredible. Such a tightly knit hard-light matrix. Sorry, off-topic. For example, your skin may feel the same as mine, but it doesn’t have any blemishes. Signs of natural wear and tear. We also have small hairs across our body and we produce oils and pheromones. While humans aren’t normally conscious of those facts, the absence of it can be disconcerting.” They let go, “Apologies if I made you uncomfortable.”

The minibot’s projection flickered, but he shook his head, “No. Not uncomfortable. Never been better.”

Rung did not realize he too was leaning in with their explanation. “Fascinating. And this is an ability that you share with the rest of your species?”

“It’s not really an ability as it is an aspect of our psychology. Anything that can be described as human-but-not-quite makes us incredibly uneasy. Hone in on those traits, and you have a better chance of determining friend from foe, or in this case,” Buddy winked, “deciding if these nice strangers are actually aliens.”

Rung coughed, ignoring the frazzled EM of Swerve, “Yet you don’t seem upset at all.”

“Not in the slightest. If anything, I am impressed. Humans are a good choice. Squishy, unassuming. Not to mention, practically pocket sized to the rest of the galaxy.”

“Pocket size?” Skids wheezed. “Did my translator short, or did you admit your entire race was tiny?”

Buddy threw their arms up, “Of course I did. It’s almost comical how nearly everyone I come across has to look down at me. I am willing to bet my ship that in your true form, I can fit in the palm of your hand. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You got me. Though, I can think of a few species that are larger than us.”

They chuckled. “Because that is a reassuring thought. On a serious note, is that why you don’t want me to speak with your captain?”

“It’s not so much as the captain, as it is his Second in Command,” explained Swerve. “You see, our SiC is stickler about rules. Some of those rules are very specific in how we handle contact with other aliens, especially organics.”

The human hummed in acknowledgment, “Well I’m game, what is the proper way to contact your ship?”

[whatwooshkai]

Hello! Not sure if I'm doing this right, but if you've not had the chance to share something for #4 for the smoke & mirrors AU, I'd love to read it!

"Ta-da!"

Graham steps back and waves his hands jazzily, revealing the baking soda volcano.

Boulder claps, grinning with delight. "Amazing," they say, leaning in to get a closer look. "And it's completely harmless to humans?"

"Completely," Graham assures them, smiling fondly as Boulder continues to investigate the volcano.

It's almost cute, how easy they are to impress. And Graham would be lying if he said he wasn't having a good time. Recreating old science experiments from his basic-level classes has been incredibly fun, and Boulder's enthusiasm for learning is absolutely infectious.

It reminds Graham of a time where his dream was to become a science teacher, and while things didn't work out that way upon discovering new passions, it's fun to pretend a little with Boulder.

Plus, all the rescue bots act like little kids sometimes. It's practically like teaching a class of regular kids when they're all present for these little demonstrations.

"-life size?"

"Huh?" Graham zones back in, meeting Boulder's gaze. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I was wondering if we could do a life-size volcano," Boulder patiently repeats, lightly tapping the side of the baking soda one. "With real lava."

"Boulder, we cannot set off a volcano," Graham says, trying to keep his tone light while also getting across how unbelievably awful of an idea that is. "Lots of people could get hurt! I can show you some documentaries on lava studies, though."

Boulder shakes their head. "No... maybe a small one then?"

"Huh?"

"A volcano with lava. But just this size." Boulder taps the baking soda volcano again, a little bit of "lava" gurgling over the edge. "It's not that hard to find, is it?"

Despite his better judgement, an idea is starting to form in Graham's head. "Yes," he says slowly, "we could probably pull that off."

Boulder's face lights up, and Graham is still questioning his life decisions as they rumble up the mountain to Doc Greene's lab.

"Hello!" Doc Greene shouts upon seeing them. "And how can I help you two today?"

"Well, I made Boulder a model baking soda volcano," Graham starts, waiting for the bot in question to finish their transformation sequence before continuing. "And they proposed the idea that we make a real volcano. Only model sized."

Doc Greene absolutely lights up, and Graham is sensing he's made a mistake.

"Oh, perfect!" Doc Greene claps his hands together. "I've been looking for an excuse to use my superheated oven again! Let's make some lava, my friends!"

Someone has to be the responsible one in this situation, and Graham is not it. The second the rocks in the oven turned from gray to orange he turned back into a kid again, giddy excitement bubbling up as he rushes to Boulder, scrambling up their back to lean over their shoulder as Doc Greene pours the lava into their little model.

"Move back!" Doc Greene commands. "We have about ten seconds before eruption!"

Boulder doesn't hesitate, grabbing Doc Greene by the scruff of his jacket and pulling Graham in front of them, creating a protective shield with just enough of a gap in their arms for the two humans to peek through.

And three! Two! One!

Lava sprays out over the top of the model, Boulder wincing as a few drops hit them, but Graham barely notices.

He’s only seen volcanic eruptions in movies and documentaries, but this. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Their model erupts like firecrackers, each drop like a shooting star carrying every wish Graham has ever had as a scientist. An orange glow bathes all their faces, and it’s gone as soon as it came, bright to gray, not with a bang, but a soft sizzle.

Not for the first time, Graham wonders how he ever stepped out of his comfort zone without Boulder around.