#maybe it's just a sensory thing

[nostalgiaclown]

Okay this is maybe a bit silly but I've always been a little insecure about my height and yes it's a fictional character don't @ me but I like knowing Emmrich is tall...

Proceeds to make my two Emmrich romance Rooks - one super short and one super tall

Anyway, I love my bean pole wife

[lunnefisk]

its hard being trans and liking going bark but having nothing to do with puppygirls. im not one of those its a convergent evolution thing put the collar down

[telesodalite]

Woe, unfinished, mildly edited, fulfire fic tid-bits be upon you

-

Like a magnet, his optics kept drifting back to Misfire's face. His stupid, strangely charming face.

For a short while, after Clemency, it had been that face that haunted some of his nightmares. His recalls blurring the lines between the strange reality of Misfire's hands reaching into him to lock his fuel pump back into the very spot he'd pulled it from, and the fear that just as easily he could pull it out again. They had been bloody dreams. Dreams that had him startling awake, gripping his chest in the vain attempt to close what wasn't open, before spending the rest of the day avoiding Misfire's optics.

But now things were different. Not Misfire's face. No, that hadn't changed much. But Fulcrum's dreams had definitely changed. To say the least of what all rolled around in his processor as he slept nowadays.

Some of those newer dreams had crept to the forefront of his mind as he sat there on the couch, staring as the lights of the screen reflected dully across Misfire's plating in hazy blues and greys.

The lighting made his colors seem muddy and faded, but Fulcrum didn't really care, nor did he care to think what it made himself look like. He was too busy bringing an empty engex can to his lips while he watched the crinkle of Misfire's nose as he barked a laugh at something Fulcrum didn't catch onscreen.

He'd started noticing it months ago, all the ways the silvery mesh of Misfire's face would scrunch up with his emotions. Those little crinkles along his optics and nose when he laughed or glared. The creases indented along his cheeks when he grinned. Fulcrum found himself quietly logging away these little details. Idle notes and observations that had suddenly started piling up in the corners of his processer.

He… He'd never really done that before? He'd never really noticed those sorts of things in other mechs.

The faces and expressions of his past colleagues never seemed terribly important. All the details of every smile and frown were never worth filing away, outside of few notable moments where those expressions reflected his work performance. But besides the smile that meant promotion, and the frown that meant he'd screwed up, nothing else was noticeable. Nothing was worth remembering.

But now the memory of every genuine laugh that bubbled out of Misfire sat comfortably besides memories of warm joyful optics that Fulcrum found himself collecting every time Crankcase cracked a rare half-smile for him, or when Krok placed a reassuring hand against his back, or the times Spinister spontaneously pointed out something odd but ultimately nice about his stupid frame.

He didn't really know why he was doing it, memorizing all these mundane little things, just to have them flit through his processer randomly. Maybe it was because those expressions, those details, felt… comforting? Comforting in such a strange and unfamiliar way. But, a good way. A good sort of strange, much like the mechs themselves.

-

-

He had stared for a long moment, the credits and their rolling tune playing somewhere in the background as Fulcrum stared back. But Misfire was never one for personable silence, even as the sound of some likely long dead Iaconian orchestra filled the room.

"What is it?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping him as he brought a hand to his face, "Don't tell me I've poured it all over myself again."

It had taken Fulcrum longer than usual to unstick his glossa from the roof of his mouth as he watched Misfire run a thumb over his lips, but eventually he had coughed out a small, choked, "No."

That had earned him an odd look at first, but with their fields loose and open, Fulcrum could almost feel the exact moment something clicked in Misfire's mind, as the idle comfortable static he projected in pulsing waves evened out into something openly curious and almost subdued.

It wasn't often Fulcrum felt him that clearly.

Misfire tended to keep his field fairly close, though, maybe not as close as the others did, what with how Crankcase kept an iron grip on his, and how Krok's always held an air of strained control, even when it slipped from him. But still, Misfire's was always hard to read, no matter the reach or depth of his field.

Even then and there, with it loose and unfiltered and buzzing with the engex running through his system, there was an ever present undertone of something indescribably jumbled about him, like too many feelings at once, each too vast and hurried for Fulcrum to really feel or understand.

It always seemed to stir the passive anxiety Fulcrum must've been forged with when Misfire's field brushed against his own. As facing the indescribable vague mess of Misfire felt like trying to untangle a pile of live-wires he couldn't even see.

It was almost frustrating in a sense, the need to try and sort and understand what wasn't even his to begin with. But at the same time it was almost exciting as well. It was like a game, like a puzzle he had yet to solve.

-

-

Finally letting his own can go tumbling to the floor to join Misfire's, Fulcrum had brought a hand to cover his face as he drew his legs up and leaned back against the arm of the couch, trying to suppress the fit as the sly look slipped from Misfire's face at the sounds.

While Fulcrum had laughed, and… snorted, embarrassingly, he had felt Misfire's field change again, brushing something fizzy and almost warm against his plating as Misfire's features softened.

"I'm looking at you," Fulcrum had said then between gulps of air, letting his hand fall from his face as he reached out to poke at Misfire's chest, "Dumbaft."

His finger had lingered over the thick plating there for maybe a little longer than necessary, drawing Misfire's attention as it slid down a little before pulling away.

Looking back up again with his helm angled slightly, Misfire had followed the sight of his hand leaving his plating to where Fulcrum let it fall between them.

"Wow…" Misfire had chuckled a little dryly, "I was gonna make it real easy for you. I was going to say something like, ''Do you like what you see?'' or-… or something like that. But now you've ruined it. Good job."

Meeting Fulcrum's optics again as he pulled his own hand back from Fulcrum's shoulder, he brought it to rest between them as well.

"And you're laughing at me," He said next, faking a small pout as his hand drifted closer to Fulcrum's, "Which totally ruins the whole vibe I was going for really. I mean, it's sort of hard to be all nice and suave-like when you're being laughed at. Total vibe killer. Bit of an ego killer too if I'm being honest. So thanks for that loser, thanks for saying I have a funny face."

With Misfire's fingers brushing distractingly past his own, Fulcrum didn't think before the words stumbled out of him.

"I like your face."

It came out almost matter of fact sounding, Fulcrum's laughter having died down while Misfire complained about it. But at the same time the words felt so simple, they came out so easily, and in a weird way they felt nice to say. But Misfire's optics had widened in surprise, his frame frozen and his field suddenly struck quiet, and despite the engex numbing his usual nerves, Fulcrum felt a sudden pang of anxiety because of it.

The silence in Misfire's field was terribly alien. It felt wrong, and something in Fulcrum spiraled to think he had caused it. But slowly, almost as if it were creeping forward, an odd almost scrutinizing uncertainty fanned outward in a careful wave. Misfire moved with it, leaning closer as he searched Fulcrum's expression for something.

"Oh yeah?" He'd said lowly then, and that sly look returned. But that vague uncertainty didn't fade with it, if anything, Fulcrum felt it strengthen. Caught between what he saw, in Misfire's easy smile and dimmed optics, and what he felt, in the growing hollow distance within their fields, Fulcrum found himself frowning and pulling back.

-

-

Growing frustrated with himself, and wanting that feeling back, he had pushed forward, shifting onto his knees as he reached for Misfire's face before the other could pull away from him entirely.

"I like your face." He said firmly, maybe too firmly. His expression still drawn into a frown as he pressed his fingers into Misfire's helm, brushing his thumbs across the silver mesh he'd been staring so intently at before. "I like your optics, and your nose. I- I like the way you smile. When you really smile, and when you laugh. I do. I'm not lying."

And oh there it was again, that little curl of warmth in Misfire's field. Almost a tangible thing, like a brush of ventilation, but Misfire wasn't venting. His mouth hung open ever so slightly, but no breath left him as he stared at Fulcrum with widening optics.

Spurred on by that tiny bloom of warmth, Fulcrum chased after it with slightly slurred words and clumsy hands as he tried to fix whatever he'd done wrong, hoping with each word that Misfire might soften and smile again.

"I like your expressions, and- and I like your voice," He said, glancing down at Misfire's parted lips, and laughing softly, nervously, as he continued, "Even when you say something so stupid. I like- I like the way it sounds. I like your accent, I like the way it makes your words sound. I- I like your- your mouth?"

Once more that weird but nice feeling settled in Fulcrum's chest. Those simple words felt good to say. It felt like a weight off his shoulders, like an admission he'd been waiting to say. About what and why? He wasn't really sure. But the warmth grew, and Misfire took a sharp vent inwards, and that felt right, so Fulcrum kept on.

"I like your helm," He said with a smile, reaching up to brush his fingers over the jutting finials there, before dropping his hands to settle lightly over Misfire's chest. "I like your frame, the colors of it. I like your-"

Before he could finish, Misfire was surging forward, knocking their helms together and nearly bruising the mesh of their noses as he tried for, and just barely missed, Fulcrum's lips.

-

👁👁👍

[icewindandboringhorror]

sometimes looking at like Self Help Strategies lists for the symptoms I'm having is always just like:

thing that I already do

thing I have tried 10 times

thing I already do

thing that I don't have the money to do

thing I already do

thing I've been doing since I was 10yrs old to no avail

thing that is impossible given my situation

thing that doesn't apply to me

thing that I already do

thing I have already tried

hrmm, oh wait, maybe finally- OH, yeah.. okay. thing that I already do but it was just phrased slightly differently

thing I have already done

[stimboardboy]

pokémon dishwasher magnet

[nerd-aleart]

My second favorite thing about the Netflix Daredevil series brand of fan fiction is that he has the saddest wettest eyes. Pathetic touch-starved wounded duck.

[conanssummerchild]

genuine question here, why do ppl headcannon morty as autistic? like idk if its just bcs i cant relate personally to him in that way but like i just dont see it and im genuinely curious, im always open to more autistic characters lmao

[i-have-no-braincells]

i feel like a lot of people don’t understand that there’s a time and place for your opinions. anyone can have opinions, it’s part of being human, but that doesn’t mean you get to voice those opinions whenever you want. one example i can think of is people publicly voicing their opinions about certain foods. sure you might think that overly sweet coffees are gross, or plain food isn’t good (etc etc), but there are people who like those things. just because you have an opinion about something, or a preference, does not give you the right to be an asshole and make people feel bad about their own opinions and preferences.

going out of your way to point out that you don’t like something to someone who does just reads as asshole behavior. and i’m talking about instances where someone will go above and beyond to make sure that you know that they absolutely dislike and hate the thing that you mentioned liking. even in situations where you don’t necessarily know if someone you’re speaking to is a fan of something or not, i really don’t see a reason to immediately start hating on something unless you’re close to a person and know what they like and dislike.

[david-box]

There's a certain something something to Bojack Horseman that makes it not really furry media despite ostensibly having all the elements it needs. I think I need to rewatch that Patricia Taxxon video bc for the life of me I cannot figure out what it is

[sciderman]

Me clicking “see all” on the tags of that post on why Nate likes Peter: “Holy shit”

[quibble-auk]

Intergalactic pen pals part two.

Previous

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

This is just Dropmix.

Idk why I just feel like he would be spiritually insulted by this things existence. He would like to go back to Cybertron where he can die on actual solid ground thank you.

Also do you remember what I said about gladiators holding grudges? They are still just as upset as they were however long ago it was (I’m assuming it actually was like…. A really long time ago… if you don’t pick up on the age difference in Dropmix. Jeopardy just acts younger because he’s not stressed all the time anymore)

—

Sorry this one is kinda short. I just thought it would be fun to see Dropmix’s POV real quick. I don’t plan on doing it a lot in this one.

Also Sunstreaker’s a jerk in this sorry not sorry

—

Dropmix refused to touch that thing ever again. He glared at the weird ground that lay beyond the concrete. No ground should ever give way like that. It shouldn’t feel the same way organics did when pressed on. It was like the ground itself was alive, covered in a prickly fuzz. An obnoxious green color.

It was gross.

And new.

And Dropmix did not like it.

It made his plating shiver and his fuel tanks churn in a way they hadn’t in a long time. He’d done terrible things and not even bat an eye, killed, tortured, committed a few war crimes… but this was it. He'd found the one thing in the universe that he couldn’t just power through and ignore. The fragging ground on this stupid planet.

He didn’t care if everyone else was standing on it, if he had no logical reason for not wanting to touch it. Make fun of him all they wanted. He wasn’t stooping that low. He would stick to the concrete.

Theremin would have laughed.

Jeopardy didn’t.

He didn’t know which option was worse.

But this was where he drew the line. He would not be stepping on that ever again. It didn’t matter what Comet might have said about it. It was fragged up.

Dropmix could see the look in the yellow twin's eyes when he had pulled back from the grass. A weakness had been detected. He looked up at Sunstreaker, eyes narrowing dangerously. He’d need to watch out for that. The large Gladiator carefully set his stuff on the pavement, fighting back the small sigh of relief to get the weight off of his shoulders.

Jeopardy’s engine stalling caught his attention though. Comet was talking to him, the other small human walking forward. Primus, they were so small. So fragile looking, how could Comet stand pretending to be one of them?

The white medic seemed dazed but not in a bad way. There was no threat nearby, he was simply reacting that was all.

Dropmix looked back over as Sunstreaker strided over to him, chin raised and eyes narrowed. Dropmix made sure he picked a long song to play in the background. His voice was carefully neutral, “Sunstreaker.”

“Dropmix,” The golden mech stopped in front of him, hands crossed and weight shifting to one hip, they looked him up and down again, “I see you’ve finally got a new eye, huh?”

The larger gladiator couldn’t stop his plating from trying to flare underneath his thick armor. His hands twitched. Just one movement, one excuse, and he could take that smug look off Sunstreaker’s face for good. His expression didn’t shift, “Yeah…”

Jeopardy was going to kill him for this, he already could feel it. The way the medic turned around, realizing who he had left unsupervised in the excitement of their reunion.

“Nice nose you got. How long did it take for Ratchet to repair it?” There was not a hint of emotion in his voice. Usually, he wouldn’t even dare to go as far as to say something like this, verbal fighting just as bad as physical. At least to the BCP it was. But Dropmix still hadn’t forgiven the fragged for what he said, he had been lucky that music had come on.

Dropmix still wanted him dead.

Jeopardy’s frame locked up. His eyes flicked to Dropmix, realization dawning too late.

Dropmix knew he probably wouldn’t win in a fight against the other, not easily at least. Age had been taking its toll on him recently, making itself even more present than before. The humid air around them made his joints ache even more, his vents starting to pick up to try to compensate for the sudden wet heat. And with the thick armor only slowing him down more, he would not win.

Sunstreaker didn’t need to know that though.

The golden mech scoffed, “Yeah, well, good to know there’s at least one medic who knows how to do his job right.”

The older gladiator really could not deal with this right now. He had just discovered he was trapped on a planet where the ground alone was enough to make his BCP programs start humming a bit louder. He didn’t need Sunstreaker’s sly remarks added to that.

The BCP in his head buzzed louder at the words though. His vents flared.

He was already at his limit.

And now Sunstreaker had the audacity to insult Jeopardy, too?

His hands twitched. His grip tightened. There was a line Dropmix had set and Sunstreaker regarded it as much as he would a pile of scrap.

“Sunny!” Cometeater squawked angrily from the ground, arms crossed over his chest. He glared at the large mech from his place next to Jeopardy.

The golden gladiator in question smiled innocently at the small human form, moving to stand beside Dropmix and lean on the other’s shoulder. Dropmix felt his entire body go rigid.

Yeah, the bass in the song was good.

The harmony part was nice too, there was a slight dissonance but it resolved nicely.

Dropmix had to remind himself to breathe, electricity shooting through him as he struggled to remain composed. Just focus on the song. Not the weight on his shoulder, or the ground, or the heavy air. Jeopardy was eyeing him, slowly standing up, his communicator buzzed absently in the back of his head.

Sunstreaker waved the other off casually, “Oh we’re just catching up!”

He smugly smiled at Dropmix, who looked at the mech, realization dawning too late. He wouldn’t dare. Sunstreaker grinned wildly.

This was not going to be a pleasant trip whatsoever.

[yellow-yarrow]

Sometimes I'm like I might be autistic but I don't want to get a diagnosis anyway so idc about that right now

[puppppppppy]

man ok so you know the spiciness scale on menus that show you how spicy a dish is so you can order based on your tolerance. can we have that for sauces too please

[autumnfangirler]

.

[byanyan]

can't tell if it's just a good day or if this epiphany/shift in thinking is actually gonna last 🤔

[caracalled]

always sort of going back and forth between wanting to post things to be read on here and being worried that they will be taken in bad faith from people I know irl if they read those (not you mai ily)

like i want a place to talk about my work and my uni stuff and how terrible my sensory issues are rn and how much i'm enjoying drawing teeth and how language learning has been going and the revival of my cringe middle school ocs but i don't want to then later have a friend make a weird comment about it but i also like these people in general and know they'll be hurt if i exclude them from this? With that also comes the shame I feel about sensory issues and how disabling they are and shame I feel about any mental health stuff i experience. I don't even feel anxious or depressed all that often anymore but i also have learned in the past few years that sharing any of this with people is a terrible idea and will make things so much worse.