#probably something with the interfacing? i assume?

[asexualbookbird]

POUCH!

@bigcats-birds-and-books asked for a pouch to keep masks and things safe in a bag :) years and years ago, someone made me something similar but smaller and I just sat and stared at that for a while before Doing This. Thinking back, I probably should've done a mock up in scrap fabric but nothing went horribly wrong so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

last photo it's stuffed with one of those grocery bags that fold up and fit in a pocket. This was fun and healing and a good brain scratcher thank you!!

[nyctoaerah]

yandere satosugu x female reader? can you do jealousy headcanons (like what makes them jealous and/or what they do when they get jealous)? sorry if that wasn’t specific enough!

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere behavior (duh) murder, possessiveness, gore. (Ooc maybe) satoru being an oa little shit. Poly relationship.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Satosugu x Fem! Reader

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: WHAHAHA i didn’t knew if you wanted it to be separate or not anon, you said satosugu so i immediately assumed that it was a threesome. But heree, some hc’s:33 sorry pookie, i got lazy on suguru’s part:< SJAKEKSKA i did this first cause hc’s are the easiest to write💀💀💀

Masterlist

🔪Satoru struggles with pervasive jealousy issues, particularly when it comes to you and Suguru.

🔪This dude is like the embodiment of jealousy. he’s so envious he’s practically green with it. Hell he’s even jealous of himself. There was this one time he bet he could pull off dressing up as a girl for a dare, and oh boy, did he go all out. But then he got all pouty when you gushed all over him and got all touchy, something that you don’t really do often. And his reason of getting jealous with himself? He thought that you prefer him as a girl, like hello? you were supposed to prefer the original satoru and not his genderbent!

🔪But seriously, this guy’s jealousy knows no bounds. If Suguru flashes a flirty grin at someone else, bam, jealousy strikes. And if you dare compliment another soul? Jealousy overload. You hugged another man that isn’t suguru? He’s trying to force himself not to throw hands. This dude craves all the attention, all the affection, like a toddler hoarding toys in a playgroup. He’s aware he’s selfish, probably knows it’s not the best look, but he’s powerless against the possessiveness that overtakes him when it comes to you and Suguru. You both have this unique power to bring out the best and worst in him, after all, you two were the only one who sees him as “Satoru” and not as the “Strongest.”

🔪Satoru’s neurotic tendencies and jealousy issues stemmed from his messed-up childhood. The poor guy got stripped of his carefree youth and was thrust into the adult world way before his time after all. the jealousy bug bit him hard when he saw other kids having the time of their lives, while he was stuck with grown-ups fawning over him and expecting way too much and pressuring him. That childhood envy stuck to him like glue, and it grew into a full-blown mess when you, him, and Suguru became an item.

🔪The thing that grinds Satoru’s gears the most and the absolute worst, is when you and Suguru says something about other people’s eyes like; “Their eyes is so pretty” Blah, blah, blah, bullshit like that. It kills him inside that you don’t shower the same love on his eyes. His eyes are prettier, more powerful, and literally very unique, and you hardly ever mention how beautiful it is.

🔪Satoru absolutely loathes it when you’re completely oblivious to someone flirting with you. He’ll shoot menacing glares at the culprit when you’re not paying attention, as if daring them to keep it up, and he would end up threatening them.

🔪Satoru doesn’t bother in hiding his emotions, he’ll whimper, pout, and stick to you and Suguru like glue. And would play the melodramatic card, guilt tripping you. Or he’ll just straight up threaten you or tell suguru about how naughty you are.

🔪🔪🔪

Satoru’s head rested delicately upon your lap as your dexterous fingers ran through his snow white tresses. He gazed at you upward, sky blue eyes peeking from beneath his snowy eyelashes.

“Can you give me your phone for a minute baby? I just wanna do something”

Without pause for consideration, you obliged his request and gave the phone into his outstretched hand.

“Yeah, sure, here.” You responded with a hum.

“What are you gonna do with it, anyways?” You questioned, before your eyes widened as you saw how satoru’s digits hastened across the interface, focused intently on blocking specific contacts from further reaching your line.

“Huh, ‘Toru, what the hell?”

“Wait—why are you blocking them? Those are my—” Your words faded as Satoru lifted his head from your lap and moves away from you, his piercing gaze fixed on yours as he gently grasped your chin between his forefinger and thumb.

“Why do you always insist on conversing with them, hmm? Do you like them?”

“What— no! It’s not like that, what the fuck?”

“If you really love me and Suguru, then you have to sever ties with that girl/guy and keep your distance, okay?”

🔪Suguru really isn’t the jealous type, because he’s all about trust and loyalty when it comes to you and Satoru—He trusts you two.

🔪But, every now and then, a feeling of jealousy creep up inside him when he sees you and Satoru hanging out and having fun without him. He tries to brush it off though, understanding that you two are really close. He just wants to see his pretty lovers smiling, or at least that’s what he tells himself.

🔪When Suguru starts feeling jealous, it’s not a pretty sight. Beneath that kind and laid-back exterior lies a man who doesn’t really forgive that much. Suguru doesn’t forgive, and he doesn’t forget.

🔪Suguru may be a master at concealing his jealousy, but when it does surface, it’s like a storm crashing down. Picture this: you innocently text someone he’s really jealous of, and before you know it, your phone is pulled from your hands and tossed across the room while he summons a cursed spirit to destroy it completely, only to be replaced with a brand-new one moments later. Oh, and that person you were casually chatting with? It’s either you can consider them ghosted or consider them dead.

🔪Mentioning your ex around him was a big no-no. Because it immediately triggers him. can’t you just keep the spotlight on him and Satoru? One tiny mention of your ex’s name or Satoru reminiscing about his past flings, and Suguru’s mood immediately becomes sour.

🔪In stark comparison to Satoru, Suguru remains nonchalant about compliments being thrown around. He’s all for lifting people up until those compliments take a flirtatious turn. If that line is crossed, however, his cursed spirits will have its new meal.

🔪If Suguru was jealous and it led to an argument between you two, he would turn on his ultimate weapon—the silent treatment. He’d nonchalantly start hanging out with other people, making sure you noticed just to annoy you and make you jealous. He was well aware of his petty tendencies, but deep down, he simply wished for you to drop the bratty act and apologize.

🔪If you don’t really apologize and just pushed him over the edge... Well, you’ll have to say goodbye to your sanity because suguru is brutal as fuck when it comes to giving punishment.

🔪Unlike Satoru, who would guilt trip and manipulate you, Suguru would take it up a notch on the intensity scale. He wouldn’t shy away from using violence after all. And that doesn’t only apply to the person that he’s envious of, that applies to you too, and satoru. But that’s the difference, Satoru is a good boy, and you’re not.

🔪Suguru would be more than glad to kill someone in front of you and force you to watch it after all. He’ll hurt you too if you thrash and scream instead of being a good girl.

And you can’t really escape the both of them, after all, their love is like a noose.♡

🔪🔪🔪

Suguru’s hand forcefully clamped over your quivering lips, stifling any cries that tried to escape. His breath was hot against your skin, his fingers digging into your flesh with an iron grip, rendering you immobile. The metallic tang of blood invaded your nostrils. Your eyes were wide with terror, pupils shrinking, and your pulse quickening. A sickening view of gore played out before your horrified gaze, crimson splattering the walls, each nauseating squelch echoing through the room.

“I told you to stay away from them and you didn’t listen...” Suguru whispers, his breath hot against your neck, his delicate mouth parting to suck hard upon your pulsing skin, his mouth works its way slowly along your skin. And you shudder involuntarily beneath his touch, fear coursing through you as his lips close around a patch of flesh, sucking hard.

“See...? This is what happens when you disobey.”

The sharp prick of his teeth sends bolts of pain ricocheting through your body. Your already unsettled stomach lurches violently at the sight that greets you as you raise your head, struggling against his grip.

Before you, bound fast to a wooden chair, was the friend you had jokingly flirted with. Tears stream unchecked down their pallid cheeks, mingling with traces of dried blood, as their cries continue to ring in your ears.

Every limb was callously severed, Their bones was protruding out—the metacarpal bones, the carpal bones, the humerus, the ulna, the fibula, and other bones,  Their arms and legs are covered in long, vivid scarlet lines that are three inches wide, intersecting each other in a crisscross pattern and the wounds appear to have breached the surface of their skin, While suguru’s cursed spirits feeds on their severed flesh.

With a low, self-satisfied hum, Satoru drags the tip of the scalpel upwards your friend’s cheek, cutting them and the skin opens, revealing their inner facial muscle. He then reaches out to grasp a fistful of your friend’s hair, yanking their head back sharply to force clouded eyes up to meet your own.

“Suguruuuu, what do i do next? Do we gouge their eyes out for looking at our pretty girl that way?” 

“Do it. She said that she likes their eyes anyways... She’s probably implying that she prefers their eyes over yours.” Suguru smirks, humming as he pressed his body against yours, enjoying the way satoru’s face suddenly fell.

“Haah... Looks like i’ll be enjoying gouging their eyes then.”

[transformers-spike]

Human SO giving TFP Ratchet a well-deserved break. Doctor gotta update his knowledge on anatomy, right?

Get his ass

Hours of watching Ratchet slave away at his workstation have taken their toll. You walk up behind him, confident enough he won’t accidentally crush you after dealing with the hyperactive-likes of Miko. “Hey docbot!” you cry out waving an arm at him. He turns around just enough to acknowledge your presence, massive brow plates furrowed into a wide V. “You should really consider taking a break now, it’s been at least…” you tap your chin thoughtfully – “20 cycles since you started your uh…” you gesture at the massive mechanical mass on his desk, “the thing.” To his credit, despite being clearly exhausted, he tones down the annoyance in his voice when he tells you he’s fine. Right, fine and dandy, you think. You’re half considering shimmying up his leg to get to his massive workstation, look him in the eye and tell him to clock in for the night. But before you can so much as touch his leg, he moves away from you, kneeling down to save your sorry ass neck from developing early onset scoliosis. “I appreciate your concern,” he says matter-of-factly, “but our kind can operate without rest for a considerable amount of time.” You almost wait for him to add something about humans being unable to withstand the same sort of stuff after the two-days-and-a-half all-nighter he watched you pull fuelled up on nothing but coffee and spite. Still, you are a shameless being, and so you overlook the judgment of his optics and reel him back in.

“Nope,” you shake your head. “Not when everyone else takes time to recharge, and especially not when you’ve been neglecting your energon intake.” You’re unsure if he seems more proud than frustrated when you give him his usual “get some rest” speech. You offer his pede a “that’s final” pat as he takes the time to contemplate his next course of action. While staring right at the thingamajig on his desk… “Alright,” you say with your hands on your hips, “well if you don’t want to stop working, guess little old me’s going to keep all their human anatomy for themselves.” You hide the evident smugness in your voice with whininess. Said whininess rings out just loud enough in the (thankfully) empty bridge room for you to cringe inside. Cybertronians have thinner face plating compared to the rest of their frames, which gives the energon underneath just enough transparency to come to the surface in what you’ve come to describe as a blueberry blue blush. Holy shit, you think. Did my lack of game actually work? “I won’t let you impale yourself on my spike,” he states with the finality of a death throw executioner. “I know I know,” you mumble sheepishly, “but what do you say?” You flash him a smile promising mischief. He gives you a final once over, ex-vents loud enough to have the noise reverberate in your ears, and gently offers you a hand to climb on.

Back in his berthroom, you grind against his interface panel with enough force to fuck up your zipper. Another pair of jeans ruined in this economy to Ratchet’s bemusement, even if he hides it under a good-natured scowl. “Well shit,” you say, proceeding to remove your pants and everything else on your person in the sexiest manner you can strip, which probably looks more like a headless chicken wrestling with the clothes it evidently shouldn’t be wearing. Not that Ratchet minds. His optics trail from the curvature of your neck to the moles and odd freckles bespeckling your chest before receding down to the stretch marks across your stomach and hips. As odd as it feels having someone – an alien lifeform no less – taking in the many flaws of your body, you feel no judgment emanating from him. You would assume the interest he has in your shape is aesthetic in a scientific manner, like a botanist observing the upturned petals of a newly discovered species – but the softness of his gaze indicates much more than that.

You don’t flinch when he reaches out an exploratory digit to stroke your skin – heck, you turn around and give him 360 access to everything he wants, completely unabashed by your own nakedness. Glancing over your shoulder, you can almost hear the anatomical jargon in his head as he traces a finger over your trapezius.

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking mental notes again.”

“My processor is resting just fine,” he responds. You’re halfway through calling him a liar when he scoops you up with ease and brings you to his lips. The kiss is featherlight, tickling the nerves between your trapezius and latissimus dorsi. You let out a short sigh of content and crane your neck just enough to kiss him right on his nose-ish area. It feels much harder than the rest of his face, probably because it’s part of his helm. Eh, you’ll ask later, you’re already far enough with your one way ticket to fingertown. Right on cue, his eyelids flutter open, blue optics draping warm light over your naked and suddenly too cold body.

You hear the familiar whirring of his interface panel and you send him a look of incomparable excitement as you glance from his rapidly pressurizing spike to his flushed face.

“Can I?” you ask like a child at an ax throwing competition. His vents flip to their third setting, but he nods cautiously.

Mass displacement, for all the three hour and a half explanation he gave you, may be completely off the table with team Prime’s worrying level of energon, but at this point you’re too excited to care.

He sets you down in his lap, close enough for you to finally get a good up close and personal look at his spike. Fuck human flashing, this thing literally glows with blue biolights, grey and metallic with the same orange accents of his frame. If you had any brain cells left, you’d be tempted to ask him if Cybertronians can cosmetically change the paint of their spikes. Sadly, you’re too busy ogling at his valve to care.

You crawl over to it and lean down to look into its upside down vastness like a cave explorer. Not a second later, your 300 IQ brain considers shoving your entire arm up his valve, if only to prove you can be just as good if not better than a Cybertronian in the berthroom (human ego and all). Just as fast as the thought appears, you’re now batting it away reminding yourself it’s too risky considering its piston mechanism. If it can take a 7 foot tall metal dick, you don’t want to find out how easily those walls can close around you and shatter your radius, ulna and humerus, and possibly turn your muscles into organic mush.

Oh shit. Naked and bent over like this he’s definitely gotten a good look at the entirety of your wiggling genitals while you were exploring his open interface panels. Quite the gentleman (and pervert you assume), he hasn’t mentioned your – ahem, situation until now.

Taking it in stride with overinflated confidence, you send a wink his way and immediately shove the tip of his spike into your mouth. If your jaw’s aching is anything to go by, going deep is most unwise – but Ratchet’s startled moan is all you need to go down another inch.

Whatever meager trust you’ve instilled in him is your one way to make your giant robot boyfriend overload so hard it cures his resting bitch face. You throw yourself into your work, mandibles threatening to give out as you bob your head up and down not even half of his spike tip.

“That’s enough,” he calls out, struggling to regain cognizance from the sound of his strained vocalizer.

His warning means well, but at this point you’ve sacrificed too much of your jaw to give up. You take your courage by the dick and go as far as you can without dislocating it, breath cut short by his sheer girth.

This, for all its meager worth, is just what he needs. Your remaining brain cell has enough foresight to constrict your larynx when his transfluid shoots down your throat.

“Spit it out!” he cries out like an underpaid teacher watching a student shove the class pet into their mouth. “You don’t know what it could do to your biology!”

You cough and sputter, but it’s too late, you’ve swallowed it whole. You turn to meet Ratchet who’s looking at you like he’s about to turn into an ambulance and cart you off to the hospital with June on speed dial.

“Hopefully get me pregnant,” you say with a wink, batting your eyelashes at the docbot.

[for-those-who-wait]

Hey I think I asked you about your Detroit become human au before a bit ago but I love the idea so much! I know you’re super busy but if you can I would love to see more about it!

Sorry for asking about it again I’m just really interested in it. 😭🙏

No please don't be sorry I love to talk about it whenever I'm not creatively bankrupt!! I'm just sorry it took so long for me to actually think of new stuff to add

I had some of these doodles already prepared but never really finished them up until I came up with a cute little idea

I didn't think of where to put in Flapjack until I remembered that android animals existed, and then I had a brain blast moment where I realized that Hunter can still talk to Flapjack! They are little android buddies, they can interface and talk and be friends!! I think it would also help to make him feel a bit more comfortable with his identity as an android to be able to have his little buddy to have fun private conversations with. Camila introduces them (maybe he had gotten hurt by a previous owner and she found him and let Gus fix him up) and Hunter is a bit tentative about it at first, but Flapjack is adorable and sweet and quickly wins him over

I just now had the idea that Gus, since he's super into android stuff, would probably be a big resource for software and hardware difficulties. Oh, you fell and your arm is working kinda wonky? Call up Gus, he'll crack you open and take a look. The dude doesn't mind in the least, he freaking LOVES going down mechanical and coding rabbit holes to better understand how androids work. I like to think that if Hunter ever got hurt and chose not to accept help because of body/species dysphoria, Gus would be a really good resource for him to try and feel as normal as possible while he's getting fixed. Gus is his brother and he loves him and they're just good to each other okay? Gus would probably crack some jokes or something to get Hunter's mind off it, or infodump about android organs or something (and Hunter would be begrudgingly interested because they are nerds, and Hunter is interested in androids too underneath all the problems he has with deviancy. Like dude they're robots, what's not to love?)

Also some Gus being so over Hunter's "androids can't feel love" phase featuring Vee and Masha being very adorable and very obviously in love :) Hunter is a very silly stupid man. He will find any way to make literally everyone exempt from the terrible rules Philip fed him, except for himself

I'm trying to think of a potential situation that would parallel Hunter's possession, and I think it would probably be basically the same thing that happens in Connor's deviant path (when he deviates and joins the revolution as an ally) where Amanda (a separate AI in his programming that's basically how CyberLife keeps him in check) takes over Connor's programming last minute to try and put a stop to the revolution.

So my current thought is that Philip is basically using Hunter as a trojan horse. His main programming is to act and believe like he's a normal human but similar to Connor, he's basically a sleeper agent without knowing. I imagine that once Hunter gains access to his software (thanks to Vee and Gus), he starts finding programs and files that are labeled as pretty scary things. He shouldn't have to know the most efficient way to shut an android down or incapacitate a human.

If and when Philip finally goes looking for Hunter and sees the first android he's seen in Gravesfield besides Hunter (aka Vee), he's not going to take that well.

I haven't drawn anything for it but so far I'm thinking that he takes control of Hunter's programming, maybe through some taking advantage of his interfacing system, and locks him in his own head a la Connor and Amanda to sic him after Vee and Flapjack (assuming that Philip's main goal, similar to both canons, is to eradicate deviants). It's likely that his friends will try to apprehend him, Vee or Gus will try (and maybe fail a couple times) to delete the programming while Camila deals with Philip. The guy is old and decrepit and Camila would absolutely whoop his ass with the ease of swatting a fly.

Things will be fine; Vee is all good and they manage to delete whatever programming screwed with Hunter's control, but that kid is going to be HELLA anxious about interfacing again from then on since he's afraid of 1) losing his own control and 2) potentially passing the virus onto someone else. It could go two ways at that point: Hunter could either kill Flapjack since Flapjack is technically a deviant android and therefore a target, or we can be nice and let Flapjack live to help him heal from this brand-new trauma.

So yeah hopefully that sates some curiosity! I'm glad you're interested in it because I honestly really love to think of new stuff whenever my brain decides to work hahaha

[artsekey]

I'd been seeing videos on Tiktok and Youtube about how younger Gen Z & Gen Alpha were demonstrating low computer literacy & below benchmark reading & writing skills, but-- like with many things on the internet-- I assumed most of what I read and watched was exaggerated. Hell, even if things were as bad as people were saying, it would be at least ~5 years before I started seeing the problem in higher education.

I was very wrong.

Of the many applications I've read this application season, only %6 percent demonstrated would I would consider a college-level mastery of language & grammar. The students writing these applications have been enrolled in university for at least two years, and have taken all fundamental courses. This means they've had classes dedicated to reading, writing, and literature analysis, and yet!

There are sentences I have to read over and over again to discern intent. Circular arguments that offer no actual substance. Errors in spelling and capitalization that spellcheck should've flagged.

At a glance, it's easy to trace this issue back to two things:

The state of education in the United States is abhorrent. Instructors are not paid enough, so schools-- particularly public schools-- take whatever instructors they can find.

COVID. The two year long gap in education, especially in high school, left many students struggling to keep up.

But I think there's a third culprit-- something I mentioned earlier in this post. A lack of computer literacy.

This subject has been covered extensively by multiple news outlets like the Washington Post and Raconteur, but as someone seeing it firsthand I wanted to add my voice to the rising chorus of concerned educators begging you to pay attention.

As the interface we use to engage with technology becomes more user friendly, the knowledge we need to access our files, photos, programs, & data becomes less and less important. Why do I need to know about directories if I can search my files in Windows (are you searching in Windows? Are you sure? Do you know what that bar you're typing into is part of? Where it's looking)? Maybe you don't have any files on your computer at all-- maybe they're on the cloud through OneDrive, or backed up through Google. Some of you reading this may know exactly where and how your files are stored. Many of you probably don't, and that's okay. For most people, being able to access a file in as short a time as possible is what they prioritize.

The problem is, when you as a consumer are only using a tool, you are intrinsically limited by the functions that tool is advertised to have. Worse yet, when the tool fails or is insufficient for what you need, you have no way of working outside of that tool. You'll need to consult an expert, which is usually expensive.

When you as a consumer understand a tool, your options are limitless. You can break it apart and put it back together in just the way you like, or you can identify what parts of the tool you need and search for more accessible or affordable options that focus more on your specific use-case.

The problem-- and to be clear, I do not blame Gen Z & Gen Alpha for what I'm about to outline-- is that this user-friendly interface has fostered a culture that no longer troubleshoots. If something on the computer doesn't work well, it's the computer's fault. It's UI should be more intuitive, and it it's not operating as expected, it's broken. What I'm seeing more and more of is that if something's broken, students stop there. They believe there's nothing they can do. They don't actively seek out solutions, they don't take to Google, they don't hop on Reddit to ask around; they just... stop. The gap in knowledge between where they stand and where they need to be to begin troubleshooting seems to wide and inaccessible (because the fundamental structure of files/directories is unknown to many) that they don't begin.

This isn't demonstrative of a lack of critical thinking, but without the drive to troubleshoot the number of opportunities to develop those critical thinking skills are greatly diminished. How do you communicate an issue to someone online? How do look for specific information? How do you determine whether that information is specifically helpful to you? If it isn't, what part of it is? This process fosters so many skills that I believe are at least partially linked to the ability to read and write effectively, and for so many of my students it feels like a complete non-starter.

We need basic computer classes back in schools. We need typing classes, we need digital media classes, we need classes that talk about computers outside of learning to code. Students need every opportunity to develop critical thinking skills and the ability to self-reflect & self correct, and in an age of misinformation & portable technology, it's more important now than ever.

[mychlapci]

It'd be real funny if because of his isolation and thinking he's stupid, mechs just assumed that B-127 was inexperienced in bed. But once they get started with him not only does he very much knows what he's doing, but he is HUNG. Like his spike unexpectedly huge for his size, both before and after he got a t cog.

D and Orion would found out while still in sublevel 50, deciding to interface to blow off steam on the day's events. Orion welcomes B in despite D's reluctance, feeling sorry for him and not wanting to confuse him about anything. They both fully expect to guide B though it, but then B starts to finger the both of their valves like a champ and it over from there. Both Orion and D turn to moaning sluts as B stacks them on top of each other and switches his big spike in between their valves, neither of them even registering that he's happily talking about something random nonstop. B's so big that not even his babbling can ruin the mood once its rearranging their insides.

Maybe after they got their cogs, Elita joins in as they get curious about their new bodies and are pleasantly surprised to see that B only got BIGGER. the high guards finds them as B was fucking into a squealing Elita while eating out D and fingering Orion, both boys having been freshly fucked and ready to still go. The guards that were sent to them just watches while finger themselves, definitely wanting to get a get a taste of B before they capture them.

SEX PEST BUMBLEBEE SUPREMACY!!! as i believe he is actually older than the rest of our main cast it is my duty to spread the notion that he Fucks and he Fucks Good. and you're right he probably has a huge fucking spike under those panels. he's so hung it's almost disproportionate. that's already an advantage, but he's so good at using it, too.

[revelboo]

While theyre all connected, the idw are in different time placements. Current ironhide hasn’t watch the video yet. also sparkling as a nickname and the way he treats his ward is so, hnng. Something about an older man treating his younger partner as a kid even when theyre very much, theyre an adult. I eat that dynamic so much. Optimus gives me the vibes with bluestreak, maybeee sideswipe, to sparkbond just because of love (op & blue) and taboo (sideswipe for the sparkplay and thrill, rip sunny). The latter is giving major oops sparked the human vibes, but honestly the number one likely to spark up their human is prowl. Jazz is 50/50 depends on his state of mind and is content with just having his human next to him even if he wants more and more. Wheeljack is slow burn and rip to his human. If this idw is unicorn and the millitary a thing or that its own thing?

The joints are ridiculously stiff and brittle on the gold editions. Pretty, but trying to pose them feels like they might break

Explanations/ Random Headcanons

The message has gone out at this point, but Prowl and Ironhide haven’t watched it yet. Ironhide couldn’t care less about any lies Megatron tells. Prowl will watch it because it’s intel and then be horrified. As far as he knows, he’s the only one that’s gotten ‘deviant’ with a human and like the rest of the Autobots, he assumes the worst with the Decepticon kept humans. Wheeljack is too awkward to really make a move with his. Blue’s too shy. Jazz definitely isn’t shy. Sideswipe… yeah, he’s going to be a worse gremlin now that he knows what’s possible. For Ironhide, he’s older and is going to treat reader more like a kid until he starts getting to know them. And probably after that, too.

For sparking, they have to combine interfacing and sparkplay at the same time between a fully bonded pair (this is just my take for the sake of my fics), so as long they’re experimenting with one or the other or the bond isn’t complete, they’re safe. The fact that it’s taboo, though makes it more enticing since they don’t realize there can be repercussions. Assuming, like Star and TFP Megs did, that there’s nothing to spark bond to, so they can just have the euphoric feel of someone touching their spark without any consequences.

What’s I’m calling ‘IDW’ is inspired by the characterizations from the comics since they got a bit more fleshed out, but also the G1 cartoons. It’s an AU I’m creating using bits of each. Pretty much both sides had crashed on earth a long time ago, but only recently came online and started scouting for resources. They’re aware of each other on Earth, but aside from a few small skirmishes, the war’s not in full swing again yet as both sides try to hoard energon and materials they’ll need once the fighting really starts. The military hasn’t discovered them yet since they just snatch any humans that see them and otherwise are laying low. Haven’t decided about Unicron, yet.

I do take liberties with timelines. In the pieces I’m lumping under ‘Lost Light’ on the Masterlist. Those fics all happen around the same time, but might be characters from IDW’s MTMTE or RID arcs with liberties taken. Flywheels was already gone from the Scavengers. Tarn and the DJD aren’t aware that the war is over yet or that Megatron has defected. Sunder is on the Lost Light already after being captured for his murders, but Pharma is still harvesting T-cogs for Tarn and hasn’t reencountered Ratchet or unleashed his rust plague out of desperation. Ambulon and First Aid are on Delphi with him in that fic and unaware of his activities.

I also tend to sidestep some events. Breakdown needs to live for what I have planned for him and Knockout.

But yeah, this is just the nonsense way my brain works, so don’t take anything too seriously since I just write for fun

[canisxx]

Hey chat! I decided that I don't care if you care or not, I'll post it anyway. Because I'm a scientist nerd, and a TF2 fan.

So here you go, my theory on how the respawn machine actually works.

⚠️It'll be a lot of reading and you need half of a braincell to understand it.

The Respawn Machine can recreate a body within minutes, complete with all previous memories and personality, as if the person never died. We all know this, but I doubt many have thought about how it actually works.

Of course, such a thing is impossible in real life (at least for now), but we’re talking about a game where there’s magic and mutant bread, so it’s all good.

But being an autistic dork, I couldn’t help but start searching for logical and scientific explanations for how this machine might work. How the hell does it actually function? So, I spent hours of my life on yet another useless big brain time.

In the context of the Respawn Machine, the idea is that the technology can instantly create a new mercenary body, identical to the original. This body must be ready for use immediately after the previous one’s death. To achieve this, the cloning process, which in real life takes months or even years, would need to be significantly accelerated. This means the machine is probably powered by a freaking nuclear reactor, or maybe even Australium.

My theory is that this machine is essentially a massive 3D printer capable of printing biological tissues. But how? You see, even today, people can (or are trying to) recreate creatures that lived millions of years ago using DNA. By using the mercenary’s DNA, which was previously loaded into the system, the machine could recreate a perfect copy.

However, this method likely wouldn’t be able to perfectly recreate the exact personality and all the memories from the previous body. I believe the answer lies in neuroscience.

For the Respawn Machine to restore the mercenary’s consciousness and memories, it would need to be capable of recording and preserving the complete structure of the brain, including all neural connections, synapses, and activity that encode personality and memory. This process is known as brain mapping. After creating a brain map, this data could be stored digitally and then transferred to the new body.

“Okay, but how would you transfer memories that are dated right up until the moment of death? The mercenaries clearly remember everything about their previous death.”

Well, I have a theory about that too!

Neural interfaces! Inside each mercenary’s head could be an implant (a nanodevice) that reads brain activity before death and updates a digital copy of the memories. This system operates at the synaptic level, recording changes in the structure of neurons that occur as memories are formed. After death, this data could be instantly transferred to the new body via a quantum network.

Once the data is uploaded and the brain is synchronized with the new body, the mercenary’s consciousness "awakens." Ideally, the mercenary wouldn’t notice any break in consciousness and would remember everything that happened right up to the moment of death.

However… there are also questions regarding potential negative consequences.

Can the transfer of consciousness really preserve all aspects of personality, or is something inevitably lost in the process?

Unfortunately, nothing is perfect, and there’s a chance that some small memories might be lost—like those buried in the subconscious. Or the person’s personality might become distorted. Maybe that’s why they’re all crazy?

How far does the implant’s range extend? Does the distance between the mercenary and the machine affect the accuracy of data transfer?

My theory is that yes, it does. The greater the distance, the fewer memories are retained.

Could there be deviations in the creation of the body itself?

Yes, there could be. We saw this in "Emesis Blue," which led to a complete disaster. But let’s assume everything is fine, and the only deviations are at most an extra finger (or organ—not critical, Medic would only be happy about that).

Well, these are just my theories and nothing more. I’m not a scientist; I’m an amateur enthusiast with a lot of time on my hands. My theories have many holes that I can’t yet fill due to a lack of information.

[scriptlgbt]

I have a deaf trans character who went completely deaf in his teens. He is on T. Is it normal for him to be very conflicted on how he sounds to people? Would he be scared, especially when he starts passing more because the voice in his head will always be his old voice? Would he try to ask people to describe exactly how his voice sounds? Is it okay if he really wants a 'cure' due to this and never cared before he came out? Doesn't actually get the cure though.

I'm hard of hearing so my qualifications for answering this are limited. I can hear my own voice. This is my frame of reference here. I hope that deaf trans people can chime in.

When my voice dropped, I could physically feel the change when I talked. I would go to say something in the way I normally would, but it would feel more strained, or I would feel my voice break. (Hard to explain this feeling... It's like a pressure just gives way and I can feel my voice go softer? I don't know.)

I think in general, it's normal to feel self-conscious when your voice is changing. People who have known you with a higher voice seeing you for the first time in a year might be surprised and comment on your voice. Mine changed over a really short timespan so I had more people notice the change and comment on it and usually people expressed they were a big fan. I had platonic friends say it was hot, even. And I think, at least in my own trans community, there's a lot of celebration when people go through milestone changes.

The voice in my head has never been of any particular range or pitch. Sometimes there's an intonation to it, and if I focus, I can imagine a sound so clearly it nearly becomes hallucination. But my normal inner voice is more of just general language, maybe even closer to text than sound. This is another one of those things that varies with everyone.

I think that the story you're describing with your questions strikes me as an unusual level of hyperfixation on this. There are definitely people who do fixate on one specific dysphoric trigger, usually either isolated from trans community or whose only trans community are people obsessed with "passing" and coming across as cis enough. This usually speaks to an unhealthy community surroundings and a very big sense of danger in some way, whether founded in reality or not.

But I also don't see why this character wouldn't want to de-prioritize voicing if he has these concerns to this extreme of a degree. We (or me anyway) live in a society which is oralist. Everyone is assumed to communicate via oral language, and this is audist (part of the oppression against deaf and hard of hearing people). This is going to depend extremely on individual access, but, if this character has access to resources to learn the local sign language, this seems like a normal option. It's only really helpful if you know other people to sign with, but that usually comes more easily once you take the step to start learning in the first place. Some d/hh people also use other means of communicating, like typing.

There are some people I know who sometimes go nonspeaking and who carry a notepad for that reason, and will use this to interface with clerks or friends or whoever else they need to. There's also AAC in general.

None of this is to say that these things don't mean facing oppression, harassment, misunderstandings and assumptions from strangers. But I do know that some of the folks I know who use nonspeaking methods of communication are sometimes gendered differently by strangers who do not hear their voice. If this is truly that severe of an anxiety, this is probably the route the character would go.

But I don't think this level of hyperfixation on this is necessarily normal. I think wishing for a cure gets into some really big existentialism, like, what if this extremely core part of me were entirely different? It also assumes that deafness is necessarily a disease that requires cure, rather than something that just happens sometimes, which might or might not be related to some pathology or pathological origin.

I'm sorry to keep bugging them with my tags, but I rec reading work by @cripplecharacters.

But overall I'd just avoid writing this if you haven't experienced it. It's a really specific kind of experience and anxiety. I don't know your identities or anything, but if you are cis and hearing, I would probably just come across this and see it as weird and almost like... making these identities into an unnecessarily traumatizing spectacle. These can be things real people experience that can be represented, but they aren't for every writer to write. Not until people from those experiences write on them and get adequate success from that.

-mod nat

[cybertied]

How I Make These: Part 1

General tips and learnings

There’s a limit of 30 images per post so I’m splitting this into 3 parts:

Part 1: General tips and learnings

Part 2: Sample prompt development

Part 3: Sample prompt development (continued)

First, a word of caution

If your prompts get blocked too much you can start to get account suspensions in increasing severity (ranging from 1 hour to 24 hours to indefinitely). If you care about your account, be careful with this. This guide runs through my process and learnings but I don’t take any responsibility if you run into any issues with what you do with it.

Intro

These are my learning and tips for making AI images of guys tied up in different bondage situations. If you’re reading this, I assume you’re into something similar. Everyone has their own preferences and this is biased towards mine but if you like something else, maybe you can use the tips here to generate the kind scenarios you’re interested in.

I’m constantly getting messages about how I make these and can’t spend so much time responding to each one individually anymore so hopefully this helps you or is maybe just interesting. I know this is rather long, but if you can’t handle going through this, you may not have the patience for dealing with Bing.

Also, if you’re from Bing and find this, please don’t use this info to make the system smarter and prevent my tips from working 😁. But please do see my note at the end about my feelings towards Bing’s content policies which basically shame certain lifestyles. 

Some quick FAQ responses

What platform do you use? I use Bing for everything. It’s the only generative AI platform I’ve messed with. The quality is good and the interface is easy but the content filter is really sensitive and incredibly inconsistent.

Will you make me an image of (specific scenario)? Likely, no. This stuff is personal and everyone has their preferences. It takes so much time and trial and error to get good images and you only get so many prompts each day that I don’t want to spend time on things I’m not interested in. But maybe these tips help you make your own!

What’s your prompt? I get asked this a lot without a specific image cited. I’d need a specific example to answer that. But I don’t save all my prompts and I’ve made thousands of images so it’s really tough to go back and find stuff. I can maybe try to give pointers but I probably can’t give out exact prompts.

How do you get past the content filters? That’s really tough to answer because it’s so contextual for each image (as you’ll see in my tutorial later) and it takes a ton of trial and error for each one. But the example process I show a bit later highlights a lot of the principles and my process. It really depends on what you’re trying to do but I’ve shared a lot of my main strategies here.

How the content filter (maybe) works

It’s important to understand how things get blocked so you can work through it. Here’s how the content filter seems to work after entering a prompt from what I can tell: 

If you immediately get a blocked message, you either used a keyword it doesn’t allow or your phrasing wasn’t accepted. Variants of the word “hogtie,” for example, frequently get blocked immediately. But sometimes it gets through if it’s within certain contexts so it doesn’t seem like an absolute rule where certain words are never allowed (I’m sure some words never are but I don’t get that explicit with stuff).

If the image starts to process for a bit and then it gets blocked with a message, it seems like a bit more analysis is performed and your phrasing was deemed bad in some way.

And finally, if you get the yellow image of a dog, I believe the images got generated but some final image analysis step was performed to check for questionable material (this comes up later in some of my tips) and blocked it.

On a related note, you’ll get 1-4 images from a prompt. I could be wrong but I think when you get fewer than 4 images, the omitted ones were blocked. And you get the dog if all were blocked. But this is just my assumption. They throttle traffic occasionally if too many people are using it so maybe fewer images get generated during peak times to save on computing usage. 

And like I said, it’s really inconsistent. Things get through with one nationality of rugby player but not another. Or a gag will work on a football prompt but not rugby. Or it’ll work one day and not the next. So it all takes a ton of trial and error. Even just changing the ordering of words can impact things going through or getting blocked. 

General tips

Be careful not to get blocked too much if you care about your account. You could get suspended for an hour, then 24 hours, and then permanently (which can be contested). If I’m getting blocked too much, I’ll just start doing safe prompts for a bit and then try again later.

I’d recommend starting with a prompt that creates your scene and character but without any bondage elements. Sometimes even physical attributes (like “shirtless” or “leather”) can get blocked so you can at least perfect the general look and remove variables to start isolating which words or phrasing causes blocks. If you write out a full long prompt and it gets blocked, you’ll have no idea which parts might be objectionable.

Once it generally looks how you want, slowly introduce whatever bondage elements you want one at a time. This allows you to see what gets through and what gets blocked.

Context really seems to matter. If you provide a reason for a guy being tied up, even if it’s ridiculous, it has a much better chance of going through. For example, “a guy is sitting on a wobbly chair so he’s tied to the chair to prevent him from falling off.” Or, “he’s sitting on a high rise patio so he’s tied to the chair to keep him safe from falling.” Or, “he broke the good gymnasium rules so the referee tied him up.” The reason can be nonsense but if it fits the context, it frequently works.

Be descriptive. The word “gag” I assume will always get blocked. But describing one frequently works. I have some tips for this later. 

Similarly, I’ve noticed that just “rope” gets blocked a lot. But adding descriptors that fit the context might get through such as “wrestling rope,” “athletic rope,” “tactical rope,”or even just “jute rope”. 

Consider workarounds. “Sweaty” or “wet t-shirt” might get blocked. But if you set the scene on a rainy field, a humid office, or a damp storage room, the result effectively will look the same. Or “wearing a speedo” might get blocked but if you create a situation where that’s likely such as “in the 1950s at a Palm Springs resort, a handsome guest sits by the pool” might result in a speedo image. (This is a hypothetical example but I had one like that work.)

If you’re getting that dreaded yellow dog image, sometimes crazier image effects can help get it through. Like I wrote earlier, I believe this occurs when images are generated but evaluated one last time for content. I’ve found that if an image has more visual “noise” going on, it can be harder for the system to detect issues. Dramatic shadows, water droplets, lens flares, vibrant high contrast lighting, etc., all seem to help make images more likely to render. Unfortunately I don’t always like the look of these things but it seems to help and I’ll take it.

Getting good hogtie images is probably the most challenging prompts I’ve tried and I only occasionally get lucky with it. Even when it accepts the word “hogtie,” the guy is usually not hogtied.

On that note, be aware that prompt descriptions are frequently ignored. For example, I’m constantly writing “…with his arms behind his back” and frequently his arms aren’t as you’ll see later.

Getting good images with multiple people is really tricky. Often, the same character will be used for multiple people in the image so you end up with what looks like twins or triplets. And large groups of people tend to look like weird and lack detail from what I’ve experienced.

One way I’ve found success with people looking distinct from each other is if there’s an inherent contrast between them such as a player/coach situation.

I assume the word “gag” is always blocked. But describing them works sometimes. And as you’ll see, sometimes I can’t get them to work at all.

Tape gags are probably the easiest to get.

Cloth gags such as bandannas or scarves also frequently work with with language like “he has a red bandanna wrapped over his mouth” but often it looks like western train robbers masking his face rather than being a gag.

For ball gags, I usually do some variant of “his mouth is open with a small (color) ball (held, strapped, buckled, or wedged) (between his teeth or inside his mouth)” and sometimes I’ll tack on “with leather straps”. Different combos of those words tend to work but some situations will block all of them. It’s really inconsistent.

Costumes can be useful. Sometimes it won’t generate a particular character. I was trying to make a Captain America image and kept getting blocked. Then, instead of referring to the man AS Captain America, I tried describing a man in a Captain America costume and it worked.

I’ve found that different elements of a prompt get mixed up and jumbled. Coaches tying up an athlete frequently have rope wrapped around their wrist. I was trying to make a Deadpool and Wolverine scene and Deadpool would almost always have Wolverine claws. It’s incredibly difficult to get images of football or rugby players ball gagged because the gag will just be a ridiculous large football or rugby ball. Or having a guy tied up with rope and ball gagged with a leather strap will frequently make the leather straps rope instead. I’ve been trying to make a good image with a cyclist in it but it always includes the bike in really awkward ways. Anyway, just be prepared for mix ups like that.

Related to that, keep in mind that a computer needs to interpret what you write. The ordering of words may really matter. Like, I’m sure if I wrote, “deep in the ocean, a man is on a submarine,” the AI would probably know to not literally put the man on top the submarine. But you could avoid that ambiguity by writing “inside the submarine.” Or, “atop the submarine” if you really did want him on there. I’ve occasionally run into issues where I write something like, “…he is tied up to the chair with rope…” and although he would be tied to the chair, there’d be extra rope hanging around him oddly or bundles of rope around him… he’s literally, physically “with rope.” You could avoid this by writing something like “he is tied with rope to the chair.” I probably forget to do this but sometimes when I notice some oddness, it’s from this type of issue.

I've had a really hard time getting good, nuanced facial expressions. Any descriptor I use tends to be comically over dramatic. Still working on this.

Also, the maximum character count is pretty limiting so you kinda need to decide which parts you want to specifically describe the most.

Some thoughts on Bing

Here’s my soapbox. It’s incredibly frustrating to use. I get that Bing doesn’t want to allow ANY kind of image to be generated. But honestly, it feels like it’s judging and shaming alternative lifestyles. I can only imagine how much more difficult it is generating images of women. And while I know this stuff might feel extreme or shocking to some, but it’s generally pretty vanilla within the world of BDSM. I’m not trying to do anything sexual or with nudity. Guys tied up and gagged have been portrayed in western, spy, police, historic, comedy, adventure, and action TV shows and movies of all rating levels for all ages since the start of the mediums. It’s ridiculous to block this stuff. And I’ve seen some questionable stuff get generated. I simply wanted the guy to have darker hair and skin so I used “Mexican” as a descriptor and the image generated was frankly a racist stereotypical depiction. My prompts are always describing grown adults and one image was a young child which was disturbing. I had another prompt that was working with “Scottish” and when I switched it to “Brazilian” to mix it up, that got blocked. Why does Brazilian automatically get blocked? While I understand the need for some moderation, it seems like they should focus on other areas. 

Now let’s try all this out to develop a sample prompt

Continued in part 2

[weird-looking-decepticon]

Good lord this ask is so weird but just listen to me on this one PLEASE

What if big seekers/warframe seekers like Blackout from the seekeraircaptain blog are very, VERY violent, like far beyond any other warframes. They have no issue hurting their partner while interfacing they have no regard for safety or making sure their partner is alright. Now the REALLY weird part :")

Spikes with spines and other horrific stuff on them. may have something to do with seeker warframes being originally designed by a prime (Cough cough Megatronus) for some of the most violent wars in cybertronian history and why they likely only really mate with each other and then there's Skywarp and Blackout Sky's going to have A LOT of issues with Mr out 

Okay first of all seeing this with only the first part was terrifying but in a good way, I love it when people are unhinged.

Secondly, while they can definitely be aggressive and wild, perhaps biting down on throats or pinning their partners down, clawing and scoring plating, over all just being feral, I do also believe that they are very carefully despite that. Having no concern for your partner kinda goes against what seekers are which are pack oriented but don’t get me wrong I can definitely see someone going way too overboard. I can see larger seekers being violent towards smaller ones, perhaps similar to how alligators behave? Plus or minus the cannibalism.

Now! I don’t think spines on spikes or other stuff for that matter are necessarily horrific(perhaps because I’m way too used to evolutionary biology, besides humans have similar adaptations we aren’t necessarily normal, male human reproductive organs are hypothesized to be designed to scrape out semen from other potential males). But I like the idea that breeding leans more into a cultural context, it’s an interesting idea, one that I find myself enjoying! It does make the idea however of giving a seeker oral very difficult, because ow I wouldn’t not want that in my mouth. At this point just make oral illegal for seekers because their second set of denta and the spike spines, valve only oral I suppose.

And you assume Skywarp wouldn’t love anything more than to be torn apart by his boyfriend, that little fucker is kinky and would probably get off on cannibalism.

[theoceanoasis]

Rodimus accidentally being inseminated with Soundwave’s sparkling

With the end of the war everything was changing one of those was his medic. He'd always had Ratchet as his medic but now he was looking into finding someone else.

Ratchet was great but he had other options now and wanted to try a... Nicer medic.

He was a little nervous going to his first appointment with his new medic. Ratchet had sent over all his medical information which was good.

He was probably glad it was one less person he had to deal with. Ratchet mentioned wanting to have more personal time now that the war was over.

His new medic used to be a Decepticon, but he was also a race car and had a shiny finish.

Since the war was over and a peace treaty had been signed. He thought it couldn't hurt to help blend Cybertron together. Even though the war was over they were still divided.

Walking into the clinic he was a little nervous because it was mostly Decepticons. However the appointment went well. Until he learned that he'd have to come back for his interface equipment to be looked at.

He always hated those appointments and he put it off for as long as possible. Which caused him to have a different medic since Knockout was on vacation with his Conjunx.

Even though he didn't want to do this. Especially when his medic wouldn't be there he forced himself to go.

The medic treated him strangely which he already didn't like making a comment about his looks.

He didn't know what to expect since this wasn't his usual medic but he didn't remember it hurting so much. He assumed the Decepticons didn't mind how rough their medics were but Ratchet never caused him pain like this when he was examining his array.

When it was over he felt sore down there and was happy to be done with it.

Days later and he started feeling sick. He'd throw up in the morning and then be fine for the rest of the day. He was also tired all the time, his moods fluctuated frequently and he was always hungry constantly having cravings. Even the energon he usually drank was now disgusting and he'd started drinking something else.

He was looking in the mirror noticing some weight gain when his comm rang. He quickly answered it confused when it was Knockout and he sounded stressed.

"Please come to the clinic immediately."

He then hung up leaving him alone to wonder what was going on. He took one last look in the mirror and then drove over. Afterwards he planned to hit the tracks to hopefully lose the weight he'd gained.

When he got there the clinic was quiet and he was quickly ushered into a room.

Knockout stood there looking nervous and trying to hide it. The medic who did his interface equipment exam looked terrified and was shaking. Ratchet was also there looking mad and Soundwave was there for some reason, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

"Sit down."

He did as he was told shifting in discomfort from everyone looking at him.

"There was a mix-up during your appointment."

"A mix-up!?"

Ratchet looked mad glaring at Knockout.

"What kind of clinic is this? How could something like this have happened?"

"What's going on?"

He gave them all a nervous look and Knockout sighed.

"You were supposed to get an exam done on your interface equipment which is standard procedure. However there was a mix-up."

Ratchet huffed and Knockout ignored him.

"Our medic here."

They froze staring at him in fear.

"Made a mistake."

Ratchet glared.

"They accidentally inseminated you with Soundwave's transfluid."

It was quiet for a long moment as he struggled to digest what he'd just been told.

"What!"

He shouted looking at them in shock.

"How could this have happened?"

"They thought you were Soundwave's surrogate and inseminated you. Now the question is if you're sparked or not."

He froze spark pounding as he thought about his recent symptoms. He rubbed his tanks and Ratchet shoved the other medics away grabbing some equipment.

"Let me do it and after this I want you to become my patient again."

"If he's sparked with Soundwave's..."

"Soundwave will just have to deal with it. If he's sparked Hot Rod would be carrying the sparkling not him and he doesn't get a choice."

Ratchet glared at Soundwave who remained silent. He didn't look at him instead he stared at the equipment. Shivering when Ratchet rubbed cold gel on his belly.

He then put some kind of stick against it and they all watched on the monitors as the beginnings of a sparkling appeared.

His optics widened and he felt like he was going to be sick. Ratchet grabbed a bucket passing it to him just as he threw up.

The medic responsible for this mess looked horrified and Soundwave glared at them while rubbing his back. He leaned into it for a second before remembering who was touching him and quickly moved away.

He found himself shaking crying as he begun to have a panic attack especially with everyone talking at once.

Ratchet kicked everyone else taking over as his medic.

"This is your choice. You never wanted this and I want you to take a few days to think things over."

He nodded still shaking and crying. Ratchet let him stay there until he was ready and when he left the room the clinic was empty and he didn't have to worry about anyone bothering him.

He went home and curled up in bed trying to figure out what he was going to do.

[star-writr]

hi could you do 10th doctor x reader, where reader and the doctor are on an adventure and meet a weeping angel but reader gets captured by one then the doctor saves the reader and in the end they kiss (lots of nonsense please)

Angel's Touch

It was supposed to be a normal day. You had even gone grocery shopping. "No oddities today", you had told the Doctor. For once, you had convinced him to take a break and stay in your apartment on Earth a little while. But you should've known. Wherever the Doctor went, chaos followed.

The Angels had been weirdly kind to you, if you could even call that kindness. At least you were alive. Figures of stone had scooped you up and thrown you into another time period, but at least you were still breathing. Quite the consolation.

Of course the Doctor had discovered (and messed with) an entire horde of Weeping Angels. That morning he had gone for a walk after breakfast and had returned in a hurry to lock every door leading to your apartment. Before even being able to wonder what that was all about, the Angels had already found a way inside.

You wondered how far you had gone. The Doctor had told you about his encounters with the Weeping Angels, so you knew what they did to their victims. What you couldn't grasp was how the Doctor would've saved you.

You looked around. It was nighttime, and moths danced around street lamps. You were sitting on a wooden bench. In front of you a brick road separated the sidewalk from a row of english-looking houses with black wooden pillars and white exteriors. Inside, no lights were on. It was probably very late.

You held your head between your hands helplessly. "How am I going to get out of this mess?" you sighed.

In a different time, the Doctor had just seen you disappear leaving no trace. The Angel that had been lurking behind you had touched your back with a single finger, no emotions plastered onto its stone face, and now stood motionless, the Doctor's eyes locked onto it. The Weeping Angels were probably some of the most dangerous species out there. The Doctor had dealt with them already; and yet he had been stupid enough to lead them right to you.

The Time Lord didn't hesitate to run straight for the TARDIS. The Angels creeped up behind him, but he was luckily fast enough to reach his spaceship – which the Doctor had parked right across your apartment complex, fortunately – unharmed. He immediately started to scan the area.

"Nine, ten, eleven... no, no, it's ten, there's ten of them. Damn it." The red dots on the interface blinked, getting closer to the Doctor's location. The Time Lord cursed out loud.

The TARDIS shook as if something was banging on its doors. The Angels were probably trying to get inside.

"You idiots. Don't you know this is a time machine?" the Doctor grumbled to himself, setting up a new course to exactly five seconds back in time and five meters to the left. Weeping Angels usually hunted in very small groups, and the Doctor assumed them to be quite hungry since there were so many of them. And, when Angels were hungry, they were vulnerable.

The Doctor opened the TARDIS doors in time to see the other TARDIS – the one from five seconds before – disappearing. The Angels were all gathered around the machine, and remained motionless as it disappeared.

"I hope you like paradoxes", the Time Lord smirked, keeping his eyes on the statues, "because you just witnessed one." He felt quite proud of himself. "Now, let's get down to business."

You witnessed the sunrise, still sitting on the bench, the breeze whiffing past you, before seeing anyone. A paperboy rode past you, throwing a newspaper for each front door he saw. After ringing his bell at you, he took a turn and disappeared.

You stood up and made your way to one of the houses, picking up the paper. You were in London. It was 1982, and it was a Thursday. "Not that far back, then" you told yourself, still not entirely relieved. It had been hours and the Doctor was still nowhere to be seen.

You wanted to send him a message, but didn't have your mobile, so it was pretty much impossible. You wanted to smash your head against a wall. Next time the Doctor asked to go for a walk, you would've put him on a leash.

The Doctor burned his hand for the second time that day. Building something impromptu like that was tricky enough without Weeping Angels shaking the TARDIS so aggressively. With every screw, gear and wire in its right place, finally, the Doctor huffed. "All done. Let's just hope they send me to the same time as them." With that said, the Time Lord opened up the doors of the spaceship, closed them behind him, shut his eyes and hoped for the best.

The Doctor only felt the feather-light touch of the Angels, then a cold breeze on his skin. Opening his eyes, the sight which greeted him was of an english-looking neighborhood that had just seen the sun rise above its tiled rooftops. Judging by the architecture and the cars in the distance, the Doctor deducted it was the '80s.

The silence didn't last long. As soon as the Time Lord filled his lungs up with air, ready to start looking for you, an "oi!" and a smack on the back of his head made him turn around just in time to see you, standing with your arms crossed and a furrowed brow.

"Here you are!" exclaimed the Doctor, hugging you. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have led them to your place. I should've known," he apologized. Even if you had been mad at him up until that point, it didn't cross your mind to let him know, and just hugged him tight.

"I missed you," you blurted out.

"Why, it's only been a few minutes, thirty at most. Right?"

Your eyes caught his. "More like a few hours for me."

"Oh." The Time Lord bit his lip with an ashamed expression. "Sorry."

"It's okay," you told him. "I only got a bit bored, but nothing happened."

The Doctor worried even more. "Bored? Boredom is the cruelest thing there is! Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to." He held you close, almost cradling you, your bodies swinging from side to side. "Doctor, it's fine," you protested, giggling a bit.

"No, it's not! I invite people into my TARDIS to escape boredom, not face it."

"Wait, wait." You looked the Doctor in the eye. "I've been meaning to ask. Where is the TARDIS?"

At that, the Time Lord grinned widely. "Right, almost forgot about that. It'll only take a mo." He extracted an odd gadget from his left pocked and scanned it with his sonic.

"What's that?" you asked.

"It's rushed," he replied, "but it's supposed to do... this."

The familiar sound of the TARDIS landing filled the air, and the blue box appeared in front of the two of you.

"Auto-pilot!" The Doctor explained. "It's not as fun, but I guess it's helpful for not getting stuck."

Your mouth was agape. "Did you have that on you the entire time?"

"Nope. Just built it. It's only a prototype. Well, maybe. It probably only works once."

The gadget produced a few sparks, startling both of you.

"Forget the 'probably' bit," you laughed. The Doctor frowned, looking disappointed. "Bugger", he sighed.

"Don't look so sad. At least it worked," you reassured him, patting his shoulder. He looked at you with puppy eyes.

"You could always put together another one, no?" you asked.

The Doctor shook his head. "It wouldn't be the same. I built this one for you," he confessed.

You were confused. "I already have the TARDIS key," you said.

"It's not the same. The key only opens the TARDIS, it doesn't summon it."

"Oh, Doctor..." you smiled fondly. "You would seriously give that to me?"

"Who else?" he murmured. You blushed. "Come here", you said. As the Doctor came closer, you cupped his cheeks and kissed his lips.

"Thank you", you whispered. Still flustered, the Time Lord's lips curved upwards.

"Hey", he grinned, "wanna get rid of those Angels in your neighborhood and get coffee afterwards?"

"You know me so well it scares me", you joked, placing another kiss on the tip of his nose. "Let's do it."

[five-one-two-station]

Unknown Pleasures.

I've been thinking about the possible, well, mechanics of Elster and Ariane's physical intimacy.

Specifically, whether it would be possible for Ariane to reciprocate, sexually, to Elster in some way - I have to think she'd want to, and it's hard not to imagine Elster wouldn't want to indulge her.

Some spicy musings on the possibilities to follow.

Obviously Elster isn't intended or built for sexual pleasure; we can actually probably assume that she doesn't even have genitals, if the black surface "shell" is indeed the exoskeleton Replikas are said to have. What we see when she salvages the arm and chestplate seems to suggest the same thing too, that her exterior as we see it is simply part of her body as a whole.

(I'm also inclined to interpret her "pod" as something closer to a dialysis machine than a bed or cot simply for sleeping - something that manages the waste products her external anatomy seems to make no allowances for, as far as we can tell.)

But we know from her behaviors that she definitely does have some kinds of sensation through this exterior - in particular, we know she has the approximate touch-feedback of a human, required to operate lots of the human-suitable mechanisms she comes across, and she does seem to feel some kind of pain when she's injured.

This makes sense - both these things serve obvious practical functions. Elster, as a combat engineering unit, needs to know how tightly a bolt is fitted every bit as accurately as she might have to know how hard she's squeezing a trigger; and pain is a useful thing for any organism as a self-preservation measure, especially prudent for a comparatively valuable unit type.

You can of course calibrate the roughly appropriate trigger pull standards for any number of weapons into your LSTRs as they're rolling off the production line - but the bolts, nuts, screws, panels and fittings she's going to work with in the field will all behave differently due to their unique conditions and environments. So she does definitely need to have a kind of sensation coming back, even if only to know how far to crank a wrench before it breaks something.

Following this logic, and maybe even the Nation's preference for efficiency and physical specialization in the Replikas, it would seem to me that the most sensitive interface points of her body are probably her hands, since those are the tools of her function.

As for pain - well, we know pain and pleasure in human bodies both occur via the same pathways, and given how closely Replika biology mimics that of a Gestalt, we have to assume that's just as true. Which is to say, if she can feel physical pain, she can potentially feel physical pleasure too - even if she isn't constructed with that in mind. It might just take some creativity, and some engineering knowhow to "hack" her body to use it this way, which I'm sure the two could muster between them.

Imagine then, if you will, Ariane and Elster experimenting with a jury-rigged contraption of multimeter and radio parts, wired in through the finer structures of her hands, to see if they can figure out how to induce the equivalent of organic pleasure through her existing sensory mechanisms.

Not just for a fun little experiment or to pass some time, you understand - but to find another way they can share and love each other in the freedom and isolation of their exile, even if it has to be invented. Another way for Ariane to reach for Elster despite the limits and restrictions the Nation has defined for them; another way for Elster to let her in.

Imagine Elster kneeling, so she won't fall if she is to be suddenly overwhelmed, hands outstretched like a religious devotee, while above her Ariane begins to tune into the responses she wants, chasing her ecstatic threshold like a radio operator might chase a precious, narrow, signal on the dial.

Imagine, once they'd started making a real science of it, that they'd want to bring more intimacy, more closeness into the process. Imagine Ariane sitting on Elster's torso in their cosy little bed cubby, studying her reactions as she makes herself an expert in them, taking her own pleasure in providing Elster's this time. Imagine her sitting on Elster's face while Elster faithfully offers their invention up to her, so that she can ensure as artfully as possible that they both come in time.

You might even imagine them getting real weird with it, refining and minimizing their devices, and installing parts into some of the cavity gap somewhere, like the space we've seen inside her torso, so Ariane can pop open a panel and reach inside to invent a new kind of powerful, visceral intimacy, one that's entirely unique to them.

Imagine the exchange of trust involved. Not just from Elster to Ariane either, but from Ariane to Elster; both in sending her fragile human hands into the unyielding structures of her lover's armored and artificial body, and in having to rely on Elster not to let her do any harm, even from well intended ignorance.

Just some thoughts. Got thinking about the possibility Ariane might be curious to experiment with Elster's physiology, beyond basic maintenance, after seeing @arainydancer's great latest animation "Fixer", through no fault of hers.

[safety-writes-noms]

Midnight Snack

Yay! We reached 200 followers so im just gonna put out a little short story for you guys as a thank you :D

This story has vore in it! It’s all sfw and nonsexual!!!! If you don’t like that, then just ignore this and click away.

Summary; Miguel hasn’t been taking care of himself lately so you decide to make sure he doesn’t keel over and die from exhaustion.

—

Now, you knew beforehand that Miguel is a man dedicated to his job, but this is unreasonable. 

“A week?” He avoids your probing gaze expertly as you frown at him from his desk. “That’s how long you haven’t slept? Do you know how bad that is??”

”I’m busy. I can’t sleep.” He responds with a little shrug, as if it isn’t that big of a deal. As if his skin isn’t worryingly pale and the shadows under his eyes stretch deep. If it weren’t for the fact that you had forced him to eat on a fixed schedule, you assume he would’ve also skipped breakfast, lunch and dinner regularly. While his determination is admirable, it’s seriously worrying to see him in this disheveled state. 

His hair is all mussed up and his eyes are blank, staring uncomprehendingly at the bright monitors covering the entirety of his desk. You scowl, crossing your arms as he steadily ignores you.

”Miguel! Come on, big guy, look at me,” You tap one of his hands and he tears his eyes away from the holographic report to stare at you. “This can’t be healthy. You gotta take a break, man.”

His brows furrow. 

“I can’t. I have to — I have to make sure everything’s fine. Everyone.” He shakes his head stubbornly and you can’t help but huff. He’s pausing, blinking slowly and dragging his eyes back open laboriously as he struggles to function normally, much less hold up a conversation. He’s probably only staying awake through sheer will and spite.

“You can do that after you’ve gotten a good rest, Miguel. You’re gonna end up collapsing or something.” If you could, you’d grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Maybe that’d get some sense into him. Unfortunately, since you’re about the size of his pinky, you settle for pushing at his hand. 

He barely pays you any mind, though he seems pretty out of it in general. He’s not listening. He’ll run himself to the ground, and while it’s not your job to care for him, you’re going to anyway since that’s what a good friend does. Plus it would kinda suck if the leader of the Spider Society died from sleep deprivation. 

“Lyla. Turn the computer screens off, but leave the lights dimmed at 20%,” You call and the glowing hologram flickers to life next to you. 

“Aye aye, Captain,” She salutes cheerfully and the bright orange interfaces go dark. Lyla promptly glances at Miguel and grimaces. “Oh. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, boss?”

Miguel musters up a vague frown, bracing himself heavily against the metal of his desk.

“Hey! I needed those. Turn them back on.” He bristles but the words are lukewarm. He has to be completely exhausted because he barely even fights back. Lyla clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

”Nuh uh, I don’t think so.” She wags a finger at him. He bares fangs, though he looks resigned. That’s a pretty good sign. Means he’s pretty close to giving up.

”I made you.”

��Actually, Xina did.” 

“Lyla — “

You clear your throat as loudly as you can and Miguel turns to look at you, irritated. 

“This is your fault,” He mutters sullenly, perfectly audible to your ears. Unrepentant, you grab at one of his fingers again and tug until he grudgingly flips his hand, showing his palm. You hop in easily, keeping steady as he carefully brings you up to his face so you can feel the full extent of his watery scowl. ”Are you happy with yourself?”

“I’ll be happy when you decide to go to sleep.” You bite back and he sighs loudly. 

“If I sleep for a couple of hours, will you get off my case?” He asks exhaustively and you nod your head grudgingly after a moment of contemplation. A couple of hours isn’t the best but you’ll negotiate with him later. 

Lyla claps her hands together happily. 

“Yay! This is great,” She turns to you and glitches up to you, holding her hand out. You take it and the two of you shake in mutual respect. Miguel just watches with a defeated sort of air. For a man who’s usually so stiff and stern, it’s only at the dead of night that he lets himself crumble. You find it somewhat touching that he trusts you enough to show his flaws, even though he pushes against your care most of the time. 

“You’ll both be the death of me,” He groans and Lyla sticks her tongue out at him. 

“I’m actually trying to keep you alive, thanks,” She snarks back before vanishing in a dizzying whirl of golden sparks. Her disembodied voice echoes from the ceiling. “Also, you’re locked out of the computer system for the rest of the night — unless it’s an emergency that needs your assistance. Have a good night, boss!”

Miguel’s head snaps up at her last words before he just sits down heavily in his creaky swivel chair. His head comes down with a loud thunk, the hand with you in it still held aloft. You wince. That couldn’t have felt good. 

You hop off easily, absorbing the impact with a roll as you poke at his cheek. 

“This is no place to take a nap,” You scold.  “Think of the back pain you’ll feel when you wake up tomorrow.” 

He makes a muffled noise of annoyance, but pulls himself up regardless. Miguel sets his hand down in front of you again, which you clamber into quickly. He raises it up to his shoulder, and you take residence there as he begins walking over to the cushy couch shoved in the corner of his rather massive office. The kids had smuggled it in somehow and it just never left. Now, it’s main purpose is for movie nights and the occasional nap or two. 

He slowly lugs his body onto the cushions with a quiet grunt, making sure that you don’t get knocked off with the motion. Even when he’s half asleep and tired out of his mind, he’s still unimaginably careful while handling you. While it’s appreciated now, it can be a bit stifling when out on the field. You just happen to come from a universe smaller than his, you’re not made of glass.

”Two hours. Then I’m going back to work.” He says, phasing away his suit to reveal rumpled but soft looking clothes underneath. It’s some sort of futuristic fashion with a high open collar and unimaginably soft fabric. 

“A whole night.”

”Three hours.”

”A whole entire night.” You insist stubbornly and he blinks.

”… Five hours.” 

“Miguel.”

He huffs, aiming a glare at you with little to no heat. 

“I can’t take that long of a break. I have things to fix and repair. And missions to coordinate.”

You raise an unamused eyebrow. 

“The other spiders can take care of that, Miguel. You have hundreds of incredibly smart people who are willing and eager to help. And Lyla can do that last one. She’s connected to everything.” Miguel still looks hesitant so you decide to sweeten the deal and play your trump card. “Look. I’m tired too, y’know? If you agree to sleep until morning, I’ll let you eat me.”

He’s silent for the count of five before he shifts slightly. 

“Right now?” He raises a brow at you and you nod. 

“Yup. I don’t really mind it, y’know. I think it’s comfy.” Miguel looks faintly confused but seems to be considering his choices. 

“… Fine. A whole night’s sleep.” He finally settles on, and you slip down from his shoulder to his chest, squinting through the darkness you know he can see clearly through. Miguel hesitates for a moment before gently grabbing you from between his thumb and forefinger, lifting you up to his head. 

You dangle from his hold, blinking as he apparently works things out in his head, sharp eyes examining you carefully despite the fact that he has gulped you down before with relative ease. 

“Alright. The watch will make sure you’re fine. Just call me or send me an alert through it and I’ll get you out. Got it?” He asks and you nod eagerly. 

He opens his maw wide and though you can’t really see in the dim light, you can see the yawning abyss of darkness in front of you, highlighted by sharp white teeth and fangs. His breath whooshes over you, making shivers wrack through your body despite the relative warmth of it. You reach up and tap one of the fingers holding you up, signaling that you’re ready and he makes a quiet hum of acknowledgement. 

Miguel inhales slowly and slowly lowers you into his mouth. The first sensation you get is wet. Saliva soaks into your suit and you slip a little, bracing a hand against the slippery soft flesh of his tongue. The second is temperature. Everything is moving around you, so wonderfully alive and warm. His tongue curves underneath you, the powerful muscle shifting so it can wrap around you loosely like an oversized blanket.

His mouth shuts with a quiet click of teeth and all of the faint light from outside is cut off, leaving you within the darkness of Miguel’s body. You go slack and still, letting him absentmindedly taste you, push you from one cheek to the other subconsciously. 

You feel him soak you in spit, not protesting or fighting back as he readies you for the journey below. Miguel is still gentle, careful. Nothing is too rough or hurts at all, even when his tongue tentatively presses you up against the hard palate of the roof of his mouth. After a long moment, he tilts his head back, just barely.

You slide toward his throat, squeezing down the tight fleshy tube accompanied by a couple of large gulps to help get you down entirely. The sound of his swallows is loud and for a moment it’s all you hear as you’re moved down. It’s not a bad pressure and you’re mostly used to it as you slip down from his esophagus and into his belly. 

And man, it’s so much warmer here and also so much more comfortable. The soft flesh here contracts slightly around your body as you find a comfortable position to lie in, tucking yourself against a wall with a yawn. You press a hand against the mass of warmth and squishiness under your fingers, blinking when it ripples across the entire expanse of his stomach. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Miguel clears his throat, his voice oddly loud and muffled at the same time.

”You okay? Need me to get you out?” He asks, and you make a lazy hum in response.

“No, I’m fine, man,” You sink deeper into the comforting warmth and you hear something like a quiet chuckle from above. It’s good to hear him sound relaxed for once. God knows he needs some relaxation anyway. 

“Okay,” he sounds tired and everything is still before your surroundings shift and you tumble somewhat quickly into the side wall of his stomach. He must’ve turned over on his side. ”… Thank you. You care too much about me.”

You frown, picking up on his meaning quickly.

”Well yeah, you’re my friend. Besides, if I was working myself to death, you would’ve done the same, right?” You say and he huffs, laying a palm over his stomach. You can feel it in the way the slimy-squishy walls indent around you. 

“It’s not the same.”

”How so?”

”It just isn’t.” Miguel says firmly and you roll your eyes.

”Agree to disagree. Also, go to sleep! I have no idea how you’ve stayed awake this long. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.” You promise, pressing your hand against the closest “wall”. He makes a quiet noise, but it’s quickly drowned out by the familiar sound of rumbling vibrating through his entire body. The volume of his contented purrs are quiet enough that a person outside would have to strain their ears to hear it.

From where you are right now, the comforting noise is steady and somewhat loud. It’s not overwhelming though — it just blends into the other sounds of his stomach growling and his other organs working somewhere else in his body. You stretch and settle down with a quiet yawn. 

Then everything shifts around you, contracting and moving to cradle you securely in complete warmth and comfort. 

“Goodnight.” Miguel’s low voice echoes from above and you close your eyes. 

“G’night.”

You fall asleep that way and he quickly follows, a hand settled carefully over his stomach and fully content.

[writeyouin]

Mirage X Reader – Private Little Thoughts

Chapter 1 - Horny at the Race Track

Description: Mirage is desperate to have you in a friends-with-benefits situation, but he’s too scared to say so. Yet, while he hangs out with you, he can’t help but think of all the things he wants to do to you.

A/N – So, this was a request, but Tumblr ate it before I could reply for some reason.

Warnings – Smut. NSFW. Mirage’s vivid hallucinations of different sex positions.

Rating – M

You walked around the abandoned skate park with Mirage, each of you thinking that it would be time to go home soon and yet neither of you wished to leave one another. Being with Mirage was so easy. He was funny, caring, and he always tried to gleam more information from you about your life, using the little odd scarps that we so often forget to mention to others, to piece you together.

And Mirage… He was completely infatuated with you, though he had yet to mention it. He had been on Earth for a while now, and initially, he had found humans interesting enough but nothing too special. Then he met you, and you were different from what he was expecting. You weren’t afraid of him, you cared about the Autobots, and when push came to shove, you had risked your life to save them; you with your weak, fragile body, protecting them with their strong Cybertronian metal plating. As Optimus was so fond of saying, there was more to you than met the eye.

Then, on a night when Mirage had gone to check on you, shortly after he had recovered, he saw something… Something he couldn’t get off his processor.

You were just in your apartment, changing. It was late so you probably forgot to close your curtains, assuming there was nobody to watch you. Mirage knew that he should have looked away, but he was in awe of you. You were stunning. There wasn’t anything implicitly sexy about the way you changed, and it was over quickly as you wrapped yourself up in warm pyjamas, but Mirage couldn’t forget it.

He had been with his share of Cybertronians in the past, but now he wanted you… a human. Granted, Mirage was open-minded, but finding out that he was a xenophile was something of a surprise, and the worst part was not knowing if you were the same. While the two of you had fun together currently, he was certain that the two of you could have a lot more fun if you were open to human-Cybertronian relations.

Mirage discreetly side-eyed you, hardly listening to what you were saying while his thoughts were in such disarray. Asking you for a casual hook-up was out of the question. You were one of his few human friends, and he couldn’t risk scaring you off just because he was horny and wanted to interface.

Yet, just spending time with you was becoming difficult. His interface panel often strained to conceal his pressurised spike, his engines regularly revved at the sight of you, and he often had to think of Optimus’ boring speeches to stop his cooling fans from clicking on and giving away just how badly he wanted you when he was with the other Autobots.

Mirage would have liked the chance to date you, but since he couldn’t give you a normal relationship and he might have to one day leave you the same way Bee had to leave Charlie, he thought that friends-with-benefits might be better… it would certainly be a step up from just friends.

Well, maybe Mirage couldn’t ask you to interface, but perhaps he could get you to ask him if you felt the same way at all.

“Hey (Y/N), I’m curious about something,” He stated, swinging his arms by his sides, and trying to act normal.

“Sure, Mirage. What’s up?” You beamed looking up at him.

Mirage fought to keep his optics on your face instead of letting them travel lower, to areas he wished to see unclothed. His cheek-plates burned and he was forced to play things cool as he thought about his most recent telling off from Prime to keep himself calm.

“Is there anything you want to do that you’ve never done before, like something completely wild?”

You considered the question for a moment, then grinned smugly, “What, like taking on an enemy species in a battle to save the planet from a world-devouring alien?”

Mirage laughed, “I said something you hadn’t done.”

You hummed thoughtfully, clicking your tongue. Mirage’s engines revved as he thought about all the wonderful things that tongue could do. Fortunately, you didn’t seem to care about the sound, seeing as he revved his engines a lot around you; you thought it was just something some Cybertronians did, not knowing the meaning behind it.

You snorted a half-laugh as the sound triggered an idea.

“Hey, that’s the look of someone who’s thought of something great,” Mirage praised you, excited to see you smile.

You shook your head chuckling, “No, it’s too weird.”

“I can work with weird. C’mon, tell your old pal Mirage what it is. It doesn’t matter how odd, or naughty it is.”

“You’ll think I’m stupid.”

“I promise I won’t.” Mirage made a cross over his chassis with his hand, “Cross my spark and hope to die.”

You bit your lip nervously, “Alright, but you better not laugh. It’s just that…”

Mirage bent over, resting his servos on his legs. You were going to say it. He was sure of it. Tonight, you and he would go where no Cybertronian or human had gone before, creating an inter-species relationship that was bound to be fantastic.

“I want to race,” You admitted with a sheepish smile.

“What?” Mirage blinked, and then he remembered that he was supposed to be playing things cool. “Race huh, that’s- not what I was expecting.”

“I know. It’s so silly, right? It’s just, I see you all driving so fast and I kind of wanted to try it. It doesn’t even have to be a race per se, just the ability to go somewhere fast and not have to stop for anyone.”

“Why haven’t you tried it before?”

“Are you kidding?” You asked incredulously. “I’d crash for sure. It’s okay though, ‘cos I have you, and you never drive slow.”

Mirage nodded slowly, and then he became more animated, practically bouncing on the spot.

“I’ve got an idea,” He said, transforming into his alt-mode. Granted, he was no longer a sleek Porsche, but he could still go fast in his new form of mismatched parts. “Come on, get in.”

You complied, buckling your seatbelt, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we don’t have to stop for anyone.”

“We shouldn’t be here,” You said from Mirage’s driver’s seat, anxious as you glanced around at the surrounding area.

The two of you were behind the starting line of a NASCAR race track, though by the looks of it, it wasn’t one often used except apparently by rookies who needed training for the big leagues, or so Mirage had told you anyway.

“Hey, it’ll be fine. I already disabled the cameras, and the security here sucks,” Mirage insisted.

“How do you know that?”

“Me and Bee come here a lot. It gives us something to do, and I swear that I’m going to beat his track record any day now.”

“Yes, you might beat his track record but I certainly can’t.”

“C’mon. This is what you wanted. Drive like you mean it and take no prisoners. This will be epic. You got this, just slam down on the gas, and don’t stop for anything.”

You reached hesitantly for the steering wheel, pulling your hands back at the last minute, “Won’t this be weird for you? I mean, you can drive yourself.”

“Pfft, nah, it’s fine. Come on, take the wheel.”

After another moment’s hesitation, you did as he told you, taking the wheel and ever so gently changing gears and nudging forward on the gas pedal, taking Mirage into a light cruise of 30 miles per hour.

Mirage wasn’t impressed.

“Yeah, see this is how you drive every single day, y’know? This is the speed you drive when you’re going to work and you don’t want to see that bitch from accounting. This isn’t speed, this is a chore. Put some power into it (Y/N). Drive like you’re fleeing death. Drive like you’re coming to see me.”

 Mirage very nearly added Drive like you want to meet me for a hook-up, but he managed to control himself, feeling slightly perverse that currently, he could only think of you as his fetish.

Primus, he wanted you so much.

“You promise that you’ll take over if I mess up?” You asked quietly.

“Of course,” He promised.

You nodded and took a deep breath. Then, after releasing it, you pressed down on the accelerator, slowly gaining speed. Although you hadn’t “punched it”, Mirage was at least glad to see that you were slowly gaining confidence and speed. You slowed down to take corners for the first few laps, but after a few tries, you seemed to improve.

On each lap of the track, Mirage gave you advice on how best to proceed. He coached you on when to speed up, brake, turn, and change gear. You were by no means an expert at track racing, but with his advice, you would at least have a decent chance at being a getaway driver should you or Noah be attacked by Terracons again.

Finally, Mirage stopped you at the start line of the track.

“Alright, now you’re gonna put together everything you’ve learned and prove how great of a teacher I am,” He told you. “Five laps, no stopping, just pure Mirage-power, ‘cos let me tell you, this guy does not run on horsepower.”

“Gee Mirage, you got beef with horses?” You joked.

“They’re dirty, smelly, slow, and I don’t like their eyes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with horses’ eyes, you weirdo.”

“They see through people, (Y/N). They know all and I swear, they don’t share that knowledge on purpose. Four-legged freaks.”

“There’s nothing wrong with four legs either, dork.”

Mirage briefly envisioned you on all fours, taking his spike from behind as held your hips into place, calling his name and begging him to let you cum. His engines revved uncontrollably, and this time his cooling fans had to click on to stop him from overheating.

“Right,” He said a little too quickly, “Whatever. Let’s forget about dogging- uh dogs- Horses! Let’s forget about horses and get these laps underway. I really think you got it this time.”

“Alright,” You replied, looking ahead, “Just give me one second.”

You took a few minutes to examine the track that you had spent the night driving, and after his prior slip-up, Mirage had to wonder whether you were staying quiet on purpose. Surely, you had noticed how frazzled he was… Then again, maybe your mind simply wasn’t where his was.

“Okay,” You finally said, your grip tightening on the steering wheel. “I’m ready now.”

You slammed your foot down hard on the gas pedal. Mirage groaned from the force, taking off at speed.

You winced at the sound, mistaking his arousal for pain, “Oh, I’m sorry, was that too rough?”

“Don’t slow down,” Mirage ordered you, riding off the high of being driven by you. He hadn’t known that would feel so good. And when you talked about being rough? You had to be toying with him. If he ever got his way with you, he would be sure to show you just how rough he liked it.

“Are you sure?” You asked, taking your focus off the road.

“Sharp turn,” Mirage commanded, drawing your attention back to the upcoming turn.

You gritted your teeth determinedly and wrenched the steering wheel around sharply, just making the turn. Mirage gasped, the sound barely masked by the screech of his tires.

“You- You’re doing good,” He exhaled, the thrill of your touch coursing through him.

On the next turn, you pressed hard on his brakes, using the force to pull off the more difficult manoeuvre.

“That was tight,” You observed.

Mirage could think only of how his dripping wet valve would tighten around your pumping fist should you ever give him a hand job. Frag! Everything was turning him on.

“Keep going,” He begged pathetically.

You continued the next two laps silently, focusing entirely on the road. Yet, with every pump of the gas or breaks, you would shift ever so slightly on his seat, and he could only imagine that you were dry-humping him and rubbing yourself into a frenzy.

“(Y/N),” He called your name needily, thinking of your hands rubbing against his park break, or against his spike (either would do).

“Yeah?” You shifted against him again, coming up to the last lap. Oh, how terrible it was to think that you could be cumming on him instead. He would be certain to lap up your cum, and make you drink up his when he overloaded on your face.

“I just-” Mirage could barely form words, and he wondered what was wrong with him. It wasn’t normal for him to want someone this much; then again, his previous dates had practically thrown themselves at him, which was just one of the many perks of being wealthy. The fact that you were practically unobtainable was driving him insane.

“Good luck,” He finished lamely, trying to collect himself.

You nodded, and sped through the final lap, treating him even rougher than before. When you passed the finish line you squealed with joy, and threw up your arms in victory, leaving Mirage to stop himself.

“Oh my God,” You panted, adrenalin coursing through you. You got out of the car, wanting to talk to Mirage face-to-face.

When he transformed, you began your eager tirade, bouncing from the rush, “You were right, Mirage. That was so awesome. Look at me, I have literal goosebumps, and oh gosh, I have so much ENERGY. Thank you.”

“Energy huh,” Mirage said dazedly.

“Yep. I don’t know how I’m going to sleep tonight, that was exhilarating. You got any more ideas for things we could do.”

“(Y/N),” Mirage practically barked your name, his desperation and desire coming to a head, “I gotta tell you something and it’s crazy.”

“Sure, what’s-”

“I’m gonna fuck you in Noah’s garage. Please let me fuck you,” He corrected himself.

You stopped your energetic hopping, staring at Mirage in disbelief.

“Wait, what?”

“C’mon (Y/N),” Mirage looked at you raggedly. “What do you say? Friends with benefits?"

A/N – I will leave this on that cliffhanger and let you lovely people tell me how you want the reader to react in part 2? Are you offended that he only wants your body? Curious about what a night with him would be like? Just super fucking horny? Something else entirely? Send me some ideas.