#tarn looks like he's about to cry

[transingthoseformers]

Today I had the random thought of what if Tarn somehow got ahold of the matrix but then was so excited about it he accidentally pops it like a lightbulb with his outlier power

Oh noooo, Tarn baby no

[revelboo]

REVELBOO!! Drop another chapter about Swindle/Tarn/Metroplex and my life shall be yours

Tarn first, but I’ll try to at least type up a Metroplex update if I’m not too busy at my day job today

L.G. Fuad Pt 3

Tarn x Reader

• “Leave it,” he growls, before shifting to step on the Pet’s trailing leash before the sparkeater can get to the little organic. Not at all amused when you dart around, grabbing onto his other ped and staring at the Pet with wide eyes as it lunges, jaws snapping. “I said leave it. Nickel?” Where is she and why do you think he’s your protector? “Go find Nickel,” he adds, sliding his ped to nudge you away and only succeeding in knocking you sprawling. Now those big eyes are offended as you look up at him, like he did it on purpose.

• Ow. Gingerly getting to your feet and rubbing your hip, you move closer to his ped again even at the risk of getting knocked away again. Because that slavering abomination is going crazy trying to get at you. It’s yet to actually hurt you, aside from tearing your skin with its awful teeth, but you’re not interested in getting dragged around like a rag doll, because you’re almost certain it thinks you’re a toy. The one with the lovely voice and mask is waving a hand at you, trying to shoo you and growling when you pointedly climb up on top of his ped and sit down, clinging to his ankle. Because whether he likes it or not, he’s safe. Cause, no way are you getting out of sight of him even if he really doesn’t like you touching him. The rest of them besides the small blue one are scary. Not to mention a couple of them had made a sound suspiciously like laughter the last time that dog thing had gotten ahold of you and hadn’t bothered to help while you’d screamed your head off.

• Venting tiredly, he gives up and start walking, ignoring your startled noise as those tiny hands cling to him to stay on top of his ped. The Pet running around his legs snapping at the organic, hearing you cry out when it manages to catch you with its teeth. Bending, he picks you up and tries to examine the injury with a servo. It doesn’t look too bad, but your little arm is leaking as you swat at his servo, little face scrunched up and eyes also leaking now. “Nickel?” He calls out again, before carrying you to medbay. “Don’t look at me like that,” he mutters as you shove at his servos when he tries to tug your arm away from where you’re clutching it to your body. Just a tiny little gash and it’s not like it was his fault. Spouting your alien gibberish at him, your shoulders slump and you finally let him carefully grip your hand between two servos so he can examine the wound, unsettled by the feel of those tiny bones.

• Freezing and not even breathing, you watch the optics behind the mask narrow and hope he doesn’t accidentally crush your hand. Muttering nonsense at you in the lovely rumbling voice, he releases your hand and you cautiously prod at the ragged, shallow gash in the back of your arm, wondering if you should be more worried about space rabies or tetanus. Shifting on your hip in his palm, you flinch away from those red optics when they slide to you again. Feel a servo touch the top of your head, sliding down your spine in a surprisingly gentle touch. Petting you like a little kitten, because you’re the same as that horror to him. A pet. Not at all surprised to realize he’s taking you to the little blue robot. Or when she starts fussing at him on sight when he bends and just dumps you on the floor in an inelegant heap, escaping both of you at not quite a run. You startle when the blue one gently examines your arm, still fussing from the sound of it.

• Striding back to his quarters, he knows you’ll be back sooner or later. You keep coming back to him no matter how many times he gets rid of you. Hating that part of him enjoys the soft warmth of you in his hands, the almost Cybertronian expressions you make at him when he talks to you, knowing you don’t understand him. And you seem to appreciate music, so you’re not a savage at least. Rubbing his servos together, he remembers the feel of those tiny bones shifting with the slightest pressure and knowing how easily it’d be to break you. And why does that thought bother him just a little bit?

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[tinydefector]

Hi Tiny, all the sparklings and babies talk are so sweet to read. But, what if Tarn and their little human get the news that they are expecting sparklings (I thought that having twins would be so much funny). Would the DJD take it good or they will all start panicing at the idea of two sparklings roaming around the Peaceful Tyrany.

And just for the giggles, I imagine the reveal something like this:

Nickel: well yep, there is no denial. There are two sparkling in development.

Tarn: But, but, how did this happened in the first place?

Human: well Tarn, we where both in your berth and...

Nickel: PLEASE STOP RIGHT THERE!!

Tarn's Sparklings

Warnings: mention of pregnancy, pregnancy issues, (slight mention of abortions)

Ohhhhh this is something I was excited to talk about since I have some stuff over the biology of humans and cybertronians. Such as how rare it is for bots to ever have twins due to the danger of carrying a sparkling, time it takes for one to develop. And I think it be amusing for them to witness how kinda carefree a human is hearing they are having twins.

Info is over in this piece from

Human Effects

Also, some other information since I thought I'd add the difference for time between humans and cybertronians took me a while to make this so hope you enjoy. (Ps this is what took this request so long XD)

- Nanoklik - 1 second

- Klik - 1.2 minutes

- Breem - 8.3 minutes

- Groon - 1 hour

- Joor - 6 hours

- Orn - about 1 day (20-25 hours)

- Cycle - 1.2 weeks

- Orbital cycle - 1 Earth month (29.5 days)

- Deca-cycle - 3 months

- Stellar cycle - 1.3 years

- Vorn - 83-100 years

- Mega-vorn - over a million earth years

________

Tarn is terrified when he gets the news, mind you Cybertronian and human biology is quite different and he's panicking over the fact this his human is not just carrying one spark which in itself is a very dangerous process for a Cybertronian but they are carrying two. So he's on the verge of a system meltdown.

Nickel looks over the scans as worry slowly takes hold on her face. " it looks like a split-spark sparkling." it makes Tarns field nearly cry out in agony. His little human was sparked with his bitlet, but it was a split spark. No one knows what to really do it's the first time they have really dealt with this situation.

The human just kind of sits there stunned for a moment. "I'm pregnant?" They ask in shock, wanting to see the images, "Please show me, " they ask while Trepan and Nickel both give weary glances to each other and then to Tarn. He gives them both a slow nod to let his little lover look at the scans.

Their eyes are so wide and bright as they look over the scans, fingers slowly tracing the outline as Nickel slowly explains what has happened. She's trying to be subtle about the face of the split spark situation. "If you look here, you can see the outline of the other," she says softly, and it makes Tarn take a deep vent as he watches his human excitedly trace the outline of both protoforms. "I have twins!, woah they are so small," they state in excitement. Turning to Tarn with the biggest smile he had ever seen on their lips.

"Nickel, how did this happen?" He asks rather grimly even as he watches them excitedly look at the scans. "In truth, I don't know, human DNA shouldn't be compatible with us, and how the split happened, it's mostly due to the different in species," she explains.

The rest of the DJD are walking on eggshells because of this. Nickel is doing everything she can to make sure that at least one of the sparks survives this process, Trepan is actually called into help, he maybe a mnemosurgeon just at this point Nickel and himself are the only ones with some sort of doctorate.

The Peaceful Tyranny is in absolute chaos, but no one is willing to say anything because if Tarn has a crash because of this, the whole ship and crew is in danger. And it gets even funny because the cybertronians are rushing around panicking, trying to figure something out, and the human is just sitting there like. "Woah, this is great, I haven't had morning sickness. Half the shit people told me I'd have hasn't happened" and non of the cybertronians can figure out why the human isn't panicking over the fact of have a split-spark sparklings.

And then, one day, Nickel is nearly barging in to get Tarn. "Sir, this is important. I need you in the medical lab now," and he reluctantly leaves his lover's side, who is still curled up in blankets on his berth.

Tarn follows Nickel to find out what's happened, worried it's news about the split and the need to terminate. Nickel pulls up new information with the fact of some rather recent human cybertronian relationships involving the human having a sparkling. "These records have only just been released, I was starting to think we weren't the only one in this situation and asked around, don't get mad but I got into contact with some others in the medical field, kept it very vague. But there have been a few human-cybertronian sparklings, " she states, and it makes Tarn go stiff in silence, not knowing whether to be angry and relieved.

"I've also done alot of research into human biology due to your situation, I believe the split spark is viable, there have been thousands of recorded cases of humans carry not only two but up to five young at once. It sounds strange but my recommendation is to go about it the same way you would if it was a single spark with a Cybertronian, they will need transfusions, surprisingly the human body temperature is the perfect temperature for sparkling" she explains while finally relaxing into a seat as Tarn just stares.

"There's records... how long is gestation?" He asked wearily. " less than 3 stellar cycles, that's over multiple different records I've found" it's news, news that Tarn wasn't expecting at all most cases of Cybertronians with sparklings the gestational time was a Vorn, but to be less that 3 stellar cycles sounds like it was a lie. he's been watching his lover waiting to see the signs of frame deterioration, but so far, he hadn't seen any. He lets out a low sound as if in thought.

"Are you positive?" He finally ask, despite wearing a mask, he was terrific underneath it, originally he wouldn't admit to being in love with his little human but everyone knew he was, he knew so too, and he was terrified of losing them. "Tarn, I can't say for sure, but their species seem the best suited for this. But if they don't get the fusions needed for growing sparks, it will be an issue, protoforms need fuel. And enough for your field to be able to know that you are their Sire. " Nickel finishes, it was a lot to take in, a lot to take on a whimp of information.

And that's how the next three humans years went, him very cautious, watching his lover making sure they had everything needed, it became the most inactive the DJD had been. He slowly watched the way his lover's stomach swelled, feeling the field of his sparklings calling out to him whenever he ventured too far from his human.

But the day they were born will stick with him forever, he thought his human was dying, listening to them cry out in pain, he had them at medical faster than anyone would expect for a Tank frame, he doesn't pace, he sits there watching the sweat bead down their forehead, it's only when Nickel hold out the two tiny Protoforms does he nearly crawl his way over to hold the two little forms. It's almost like instinct and he has them both settled in his sparkchamber wrapped around his spark.

And they he's checking his little lover tracing his digits across their face, trying to calm them and let them know they they did amazing, both their little sparks made it and had latched onto his spark.

The months after are true chaos, as the two sparklings develop more, they get more time away from Tarns Spark, and their frames begin to take form. He watches the way to curl around their carrier, chirp, and coo in delight. In truth, he never saw himself in this position being a sire to young sparks, yet watching the way these two little bitlets grow over time, he wants nothing more than to make sure they are safe he himself curls around his little family pulling his lover closer as the two sparklings scale his frame cooing in delight.

_______________

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[mychlapci]

Ooooh, Pharma suffering through one too many unsatisfied heats alone on Delphi, all cold and swollen. Sure he can deal with it manually but it’s never quite as satisfying as a person. 

He can’t ask First Aid or Ambulon either. He is not going to be that kind of creepy surgeon who pressures his staff. Though the thought of it may lead to some fantasies about Ratchet walking in on him and pressuring him into it and Pharma may get a little lost in the sauce at the thought of Ratchet bending him over and assisting poor little nurse Pharma with it. He is pining and shaking through overload any time he plays old recordings of Ratchet’s voice, but even that stops being satisfying the longer time passes with no call or even email from him.

This eventually evolves into him just ignoring it by force stopping the cycle as long as possible, especially when the added stress of Tarn’s deal happens. All this escalates into Pharma being stuck on Luna-1 post-being tortured for months with experiments, having just rebuilt himself from scratch after being disintegrated on and off until Tyrest got it right. Now he’s playing up his mad doctor side which gets him left pretty much alone by everyone. 

So he’s alone in his lab when his heat protocols start activating and he can’t stop it so he’s shaky collapsed gasping next to his notes, trying to think through the fever on how he can force stop with tools and force himself to crawl over. His panel snaps open because he’s so swollen and exhausted and he starts giggle-crying because of course this happens too. What’s next the Cons walking in on it? Clearly the universe hates him.

Then, to his horror, the door does open but it’s Star Saber which is a relief because he’s basically sexless and so repressed he’ll be too put off to try anything. Obviously. Pharma dealt with plenty of people like that before. They loved making comments at him after all for being a jet in medicine. He snarls at him trying to pull as much dignity as possible to help him up so he could resolve the issue and get back to the work.

Star Saber is strangely quiet and obedient, easily picking Pharma up and carrying him to his bed without any hesitation, grabbing some coolant, and only stopping when ordered to bring him a box and he looks inside it to see the contents.

Instead of bringing Pharma his toys though, he settles on the bed between Pharma’s legs and grabs them both in his hands, saying that imitations are not needed and are against Primus’s vision. Pharma starts giggling again because of course, why wouldn’t this happen now right when he thought he was going to get off easy. Star Saber’s face mask retracts and he goes face first into the valve before Pharma can react. Pharma didn’t realize that the Circle of Light worships the fighter-creator aspect of Primus and is, in fact, a sex cult. And Star Saber is a very devoted worshiper. 

Something he is happily demonstrating by pressing himself as close as he can and licking and sucking and lathing every swollen nod he can touch. Pharma whites out through the first of many overloads. Two more riding Star Saber’s face, the last of which had Pharma’s legs wrapped so tightly around his helm he thought he heard something crack while he rocked into Star Saber’s tongue grinding his outside node on the other’s nose. Then he got flipped over and wings nibbled and worshiped as fingers as large as some spikes dove inside him and found his lubrication glands to milk them so thoroughly the pleasure went into pain only to circle back. Only when Star Saber had managed to get the worst of the edge off leaving Pharma pliant, plush, and them both soaked did his spike come into play delightfully stretching with ridges and biolight that were designed to press against inside nodes and line up charge outputs.

They both don’t leave until the swelling has gone down enough for the entrance of the gestation tank to become visible again and Pharma is very thoroughly satisfied in every way possible. Including ones he didn’t think of resulting directly in two little carry ons now that Star Saber is smug in a very self-righteous way about.

Pharma finally gets a satisfied heat but the pay off is Star Saber basically attached to him and more than willing to “top him off” any time the bump stops being visible despite Pharma’s repeated corrections that no sex throughout carrying is not actually required for health. But at least this crazy mech he’s stuck with this time mainly wants to give him the best overloads he’s ever had, tell him what a gift he is, and is willing to listen to him ramble happily about the miracle cures he’s making. No torture this time. Unless you count the occasional edging. 

(Pharma can have a “nice” thing for once.)

AEHRGG... Pharma pussy indulgence...

[bodhrancomedy]

A Little Rock Pool - Extract Bodhrán M/

I let Kasparov take the lead on supporting Daro as Gander led us under a low rock shelf that curved like a mushroom head. Water spluttered as we went, getting louder within a minute or two. The cave deadened the sound of it oddly well.

We came out into a clearing in the stone, sunlight sparkling on the face of the tarn. A thin surge of glittering river water tumbled over one of the high walls enclosing the area, filling the ragged circle with a pool about eight feet from side to side.

With an inarticulate cry of delight, Daro pulled himself forwards on the huge, crumbled stones dotting the shore and ducked his head into the cascade. He laughed as water streamed down his shoulders, his white hair darkening to silver as he vigorously rubbed his fingers through it.

Gander was posed on a rock, grinning crookedly at Kasparov and I. “See?”

I nodded, abruptly too shy to speak.

Kasparov, on the other hand, didn’t look as impressed. “What’s up there?” he asked, directing a finger to the walls of the crevice, “If they come ‘round from that side we’re sitting ducks.”

“Unless they’re planning on scaling a few miles of cliffs, we’re probably pretty safe,” Gander retorted. “Besides, we’d hear them coming. Even the goats rattle across that. They kick wee stones everywhere.”

“But they won’t hear us over the waterfall.” Kasparov rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Gander seemed to take this as acquiescence, his smile getting wider.

“How deep is it?” Kasparov asked innocently.

The smile vanished. “Kasp, I’ve had a long day saving your arse… you’re tired, we’re tired… it’s not necessary.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Kasparov replied airily, taking a step towards him. “No time like the present.”

“Kasp… c’mon…”

Gander dodged the first lunge, but Kasparov got hold of his elbow, spinning him round. The other man fought him, but even I could see it wasn’t with any real seriousness.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

Still clutching his companion’s arm, Kasparov looked over at me smugly. “Since the old man over there seems fairly keen to stay here for a bit and I don’t fancy us splitting up again so soon, I say we make the most of this lovely spot Gander found for us.”

Gander locked gazes with me, resignation etched into every line of his face, lips pursed tightly. He lowered his head in defeat, curls falling over his eyes.

“Swimming lessons,” he groaned.

Who wants to see the swimming lessons?

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #52 — The DJD Once Again Prove to Be an HR Nightmare

Ratchet and Drift, looking fresh as hell in their matching paint jobs, stand on the cliff they made their cool entrance on last issue, as they snipe at each other over whether or not Drift personally knows the DJD. Considering how Tarn and Friends had a space-cocaine induced freakout over seeing Drift on the quantum duplicate Lost Light, they may want to talk a little quieter, especially with the face Helex is making.

You better watch out, Ratchet— this man's going to do Sakamoto-got-all-the-way-to-pencils shit to you!

The Pet takes the opportunity presented by our recently returned newlyweds being too busy flirting to pay attention to the fight at hand, leaping to chew on Ratchet's head. Luckily, Ten is an ally, even when he’s been beat to shit, and punches the shitty little Pomeranian into the air. Kaon, card-carrying freak and dog dad, takes this abject display of animal abuse about as well as he can.

Ratchet, having his gun eaten by the mouth pervert, is beginning to worry that he, his rich boytoy, and a mostly out of commission Ten might be sliiiiiiiiightly outnumbered against a dozen Decepticons, two of whom belong to the Super Murder Death Squad. Drift, after a bit of needling, heelies a dude’s face off, jumps into the air, does a bunch of sick flips, blocks a laser with a sword in such a way that it looks like he got shot in the dick, and then lands, like, 70 feet away to scoop up the Pet and threaten to chop its head off if Helex doesn’t stop trying to vore his boyfriend.

Kaon, #1 dog dad, orders everyone to fall back. Helex, who has Ratchet like 70% inside his smelting chamber by this point, can’t believe that Kaon’s ruining the fun. Helex releases Ratchet, letting him crowd onto Drama Point with Drift and most of Ten, as the Decepticons circle them. Drift, unfortunately, didn’t think past doing sweet flips to show off after his sabbatical from the comic run, and they’re back in the same situation they arrived to, but now one of them is holding a crusty little dog.

Then a platform descends from the sky, and we see what Ravage has been up to.

Grand theft auto!

Yes, it turns out that this cat can drive, and well enough to get the boys up and out of danger, though Ten’s size means that the lovebirds have to dangle off of his remaining arm. Drift still hasn’t put down the Pet. Sure hope that thing’s been socialized to cats.

Oh, who am I kidding? Kaon wouldn’t have bothered.

Speaking of Kaon, he looks like he’s about to cry, because someone’s kidnapped his princess baby angel, and Helex doesn’t even CARE, the heartless bastard, as he orders the other Decepticons to fire on the shuttle. They, of course, hit it, as there’s at least ten of these guys firing, and they’re all decently tall. The shuttle begins to lose altitude, and Ravage, who does not have traditional hands and is currently using his tail to man the control stick, attempts to crash as close to the “fortress” as possible.

Meanwhile, over at Megatron’s plinth, we get back to that whole thing where he surrendered himself to Tarn. Tarn, feeling an excuse to monologue coming on, says that he’s well aware of Megatron’s new schtick, and he’s not a huge fan of it. Megatron clarifies that he wishes to give himself up so that the rest of the Lost Light crew stranded on this planet might live, because this is his fault to begin with. Tarn agrees, reminding him that he paid for Tarn’s plastic surgery. Megatron states that he only brought Tarn to his side to hurt “someone”.

Three guesses who Megatron could have possibly hurting by bringing Tarn over to the Decepticons, and the first two don’t count.

Megatron thinks that by bumming around space on a borderline vacation, he’s returned to who he used to be (maybe he got his teaching license, who knows) and that the war was a waste of time. Tarn gets kind of intense here, because if Megatron wasted his life, what does that make Tarn? Tarn, who has decorated his home with nothing but Decepticon symbols? Tarn, who has had corpses nailed to his wall for the last couple million years? Tarn, who wears a fuckoff stupid mask every single day of his life, even while eating and trying to kill himself with space meth cut with time travel and gas station dick pills? Also, what about all the other guys who died trying to realize Megatron's ideals? What about the little guys, the cogs that made the machine run? What about Steve from accounting, whose husband left him, because he was too busy trying to balance the budget on Megatron's body remodels and Optimus Prime punching bags that also doubled as body pillows to come home? What about Steve, huh?

Megatron basically regrets everything he’s ever done, not that Tarn cares. Megatron then reveals that whole thing where Rewind tried to retroactively kill him as an infant, and how he sort of wished it had worked.

Tarn starts beating the shit out of Megatron before the guy can start going on about how his parents are Brainstorm and Whirl, though Tarn promises that this is just a healthy dose of tough love, as surely the wimp before him isn’t actually who Megatron is. Megatron doesn’t fight back, instead just staring sadly at the Autobot badge Tarn slapped off of him. This is really starting to piss Tarn off, as he was really hoping to beat some of the fire back into his former mentor and idol. This is when he starts trying to choke Megatron, even though their species doesn’t breathe. Still, I’m sure Tarn’s stiletto nails hurt something fierce.

Megatron then recalls his conversation with Velocity, and states that if the fool’s energon DID alter his personality, it was probably for the best, and he wouldn’t want to go back. Tarn, who has based his entire selfhood on the thing that Megatron threw away to live out his probation on a cruise ship, takes this statement with all the tact and level-headedness we’ve come to know him for.

Tarn is just one more double fusion cannon blast to the chest away from smiting Megatron utterly, and he’s fully committed to doing so. However, he gets distracted by the sound of Elton John’s “The Bitch is Back” coming from across the field.

WHO LET THIS MOTHERFUCKER OUT OF HELL

Anyway, it looks like Ravage can, in fact, drive pretty well, as the shuttle did crash pretty close to the “fortress”. Swerve, who still really wants to make up for his shitty boss behaviors and also accidentally dragging Ten into a microcosm of hell, lets Ten know that they saw his floor graffiti, and that it might actually work. Magnus, who still has his arm off, does his best to not kick Swerve across the room as he scurries underfoot, as he drags Ten inside the building.

Skids intercepts Ratchet to welcome him back, and also ask how the hell he knew to come to Necroworld. Apparently he and Drift had received a call from the handy dandy phone that he had given First Aid, who First Aid had then regifted to Velocity, just in case some bullshit happened. Velocity’s introduction to Ratchet is rough, as she manages to call him grumpy, old, and stubborn as a mule in the span of about fifteen seconds. Ratchet is mostly concerned with the fact that the Lost Light replaced him so soon after his return. Nobody tell him about Velocity’s track record with the medical exams, he might just shoot off into space to beat First Aid to a pulp for leaving her by herself.

Over in what might be a closet, Rodimus runs across Drift sitting in the dark and sharpening one of his swords. Drift seems to have used his exile to remember that he does, in fact, have some semblance of self-respect, as he doesn’t immediately forgive Rodimus for throwing him off the ship that he paid for, only to have given himself up as the real culprit behind the Overlordening, like, a week later, thus negating Drift’s sacrifice, and then never coming to find him, despite the fact that they’re supposedly friends, and, again, the ship is in Drift’s name, as was the crew’s allowance money. How the Lost Light has survived financially without Drift is unknown.

Rodimus knows that he sucks and is the worst, but he was really worried that Drift wouldn’t like him anymore, so he’d sort of been kicking the issue of “finding my ex-TIC to tell him he got publicly humiliated for nothing” down the road, to the point where Ratchet had gotten sick of it and went to solve the problem himself.

Of course, the meta reason for Drift not being found was so that Shane McCarthy could have his OC back, as well as Ratchet, for the miniseries Transformers: Drift— Empire of Stone, well known for being sort of silly and introducing the phrase “be shoosh” to Drift’s lexicon. In it, Ratchet found Drift traipsing around the edge of the galaxy being a neutral (in terms of war) hero to organic species affected by Decepticon aggressions, before crashing on a planet where Drift, back when he was “Deadlock”, had found a mystical stone army, one that Gigatron (a dude who totally isn’t anime Megatron) wanted to harness the power of, so that the Decepticons might claim victory over their enemies. Hellbat, Gigatron’s second in command, had gone mad doing nothing but killing over millions of years, and had been modifying the stone army in secret to do his bidding so he could "kill everything". Then the stone army woke up, Hellbat died, Gigatron died, and Ratchet went to take Drift to get detailed, because he looked like he'd been ridden hard and put away wet.

Also, if you think about it, having two former high-ranking Decepticons turning to the Autobot side being on the Lost Light’s high command might have been too many redundancies to make Megatron’s arc stand out. Perhaps, had Megatron not been added to MTMTE’s roster so late in the game, Rodimus WOULD have gone looking for Drift, finding him just in time for the DJD to catch wind that they hadn’t actually super nightmare death murdered Deadlock after all.

Drift, who can’t say no to Rodimus's puppydog face, lets Rodimus sit with him on the floor, as he apologizes for the fact that by coming here, Drift and Ratchet have unwittingly signed up for Tarn’s Political Theory and Dismemberment Slam Poetry Night, but he mega-promises that they’ll come up with something together to get through this. Drift appreciates the sentiment, but knows that Rodimus is just saying this to make him feel better.

Back at the worst fan club meetup in the galaxy, Tarn elbows Overlord in the throat and tells him to fuck off. Overlord tells him that he knows Tarn never finished his degree and only acts like an academic for the aesthetic. Tarn transforms to shoot him while reminding Overlord that at least Megatron’s spoken to him in the last few thousand years. The two duke it out with their tank modes, Overlord KRUMPing all over Tarn, before the theatre kid kicks him off and questions why exactly Overlord is even alive, given that he chainsawed his head off last year. No word on if he’s bothered to ask this same question about 75% of the people he’s here to super murder.

Overlord simply states that someone found him floating out in space and fixed him up, because it turns out that they both wanted to go after Megatron and kill his ass dead, because Overlord is sort of sick of not getting the attention he so obviously deserves. When Tarn, ever the opportunist, attempts to make a team up deal, Overlord tells him to shut up.

And then they realize they lost the old man they were fighting over.

Great work, fellas.

Over with the Autobots (and Cyclonus), Rewind’s outside, looking at that memorial to the disappeared and trying to figure out why the Necrobot laid out the names in the way that he did. He’s currently near the top, where you can see most of Roller’s name, someone whose name ends in “gator”, and Dreamwave Production’s smoldering corpse, which makes me wonder if Alex Milne ever did get all the money he was owed from his work with them. Rewind, who last dealt with the DJD not even a year ago, is trying really, really hard to not think about how many needles they’re going to jam into Chromedome’s eyes this go around.

Of course, Nautica, who has come out to find Rewind, doesn’t give a shit about Rewind’s PTSD. She wants relationship advice! She’d ask Chromedome, but apparently he’s taking a nap, still worn out from stabbing Tailgate in the brain after he rainbow-exploded all over the ship. Which happened months ago.

You know, at the rate he’s been going, Chromedome probably wouldn’t have lived too far past sunset anyhow.

Anyway, Nautica wants to know if, on Cybertron, you have to be besties before you can get hitched, because that’s how it works on some of the other colonies. She specifies that this ISN'T how it works on Caminus, which is good, given how problematic that would be, considering you need to be best friends with someone by the time you're five weeks old, and there's no telling if they're cool with platonic polyamory. Rewind informs her that it’s either one or the other on Cybertron, no double-dipping, and god help you if it’s a situationship. Nautica is asking this because she’s realized that she can’t waffle about on committing anymore, seeing as she’s probably going to die in the next hour or so, and she’d rather use that time to enter a queer-platonic partnership than get her face fixed.

Back at the Peaceful Tyranny, Tarn has, in fact, managed to bring Overlord to reason, much to Deathsaurus’s confusion and derision, if his squiggle face is anything to go by. Overlord, smug as fuck, informs Deathsaurus that in exchange for his compliance, Tarn has agreed to let him personally murder Megatron while everyone watches, because surely Tarn couldn’t actually kill his idealogical idol, because he’s a pussy. Tarn is being very brave about this, only letting the spot blacking on his linework show on his face, as his fists shake with rage.

Then Kaon shows up, begging they pull back their forces until the Pet has been returned, and the spot blacking gets a little heavier.

Tarn, who has had a very long day of tactical meetings, phone calls, facing his fallen idol, having a very unsatisfying beatdown with said idol, and dealing with known freak Overlord, handles Kaon’s inability to be a big boy about misplacing his shitty little dog with all of the tact and decorum we’ve come to know him for— he gives Kaon a big, beefy hug, acknowledges just how much Kaon loves that shitty little dog, and then makes sure that Kaon never has to worry about a thing ever again.

That’s a series wrap on Kaon! Let’s give him a hand, folks!

Tarn, who has had just about enough of Overlord in the last half hour, smashes Kaon’s head onto Overlord’s tits, covering him in viscera, as he demands he be treated with respect, because this is HIS house, where HE’S paying the bills and calling the shots, so help him god. Nickel is very displeased that Tarn’s killed one of the Twinksome Twosome. No word on how Deathsaurus feels about this, considering that a big reason he’s working with Tarn is because he refused to kill the rest of the DJD when demanded to do so, thus showing his dedication to his men. Also no word on how the rest of the DJD are going to handle Tarn decapitating their weed man.

Tarn tells everyone to pony up, as they’re about to go over and handle all the silly little bastards hiding out in the Necrobot’s “fortress”.

Speaking of which, it looks like Megatron made it home, despite Tarn blowing his tits clean off with that cannon blast. Rodimus and Ratchet carry him inside, as Magnus is probably too busy not getting his arm put back on to help, and Megatron is using the last of his energy to hold the Autobot badge Tarn slapped off his chest earlier.

Sure hope Ratchet didn’t forget to tell Drift about his old boss being co-captain of the ship, or else this is going to be a very nasty surprise for both of them— we've already seen that Drift loves to freak out and kill sick people.

[in1-nutshell]

Hi I lied when I said the last time I asked for juno was the last time

Cygate whirl and first aid seprately react to juno having a panic attack or breakdown without rodimus or perceptor nearby

your nutshell summary are really cute

Bringing back Juno! Let's do this!

Hope you enjoy!

Juno having a panic attack/ breakdown with Cygate, Whirl, and First Aid

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

MTMTE

Cygate

The pair had been walking back to their shared room when the incident happened.

The evening had turned out to be a bit eventful.

Especially when a little argument sparked between the pair.

They don’t remember what the cause of it was, but it left both in a sour mood when they heard something.

It sounded like… crying?

Tailgate went forward with Cyclonus trailing behind with a servo on his sword.

The pair was surprised to see Juno on the floor curled up with both their servos clenched on their helm.

They were shaking like a leaf, bio lights blinking rapidly, and optics shut tight.

“Juno!”--Tailgate

Tailgate rushes to their side.

Cyclonus walks over but keeps his distance.

Juno shrinks a bit at the sudden contact.

Tailgate retracts his servos but gently takes one of their servos, softly running his digits over theirs.

He looks over at Cyclonus for help.

Cyclonus goes to their other side and grabs their other servo.

He pries their servo open.

The pair exchanged quiet words until Juno stopped shaking.

Cyclonus helps Juno up and supports most of their weight.

Tailgate tries to help with the weight the best he can.

The minibot ends up holding their servo the rest of the trip to the couples habsuite nearby.

Cyclonus helped Juno onto the berth as Tailgate closed the door for more privacy.

Juno looks down avoiding the gaze of the pair.

“I’m sorry—”--Juno

Tailgate grabs their servo again.

Juno shakes a bit trying to keep the tears at bay.

Cyclonus walks over and places a servo on their shoulder.

“Can you tell us what happened?”--Tailgate

Juno slowly nods.

“…I’ve been a bit overwhelmed with work… I don’t want what happened before to happen again… maybe if I had worked harder last time then maybe they wouldn’t have--”--Juno

“Stop.”--Cyclonus

Juno looks at Cyclonus who had tightened his grip on their shoulder a bit.

“No one could have spotted them. Even in review, all cameras had been disabled and the ones that were partially operational were not enough to bypass their cloaking devices. You did your job as well as you could.”--Cyclonus

Juno looks down at Tailgate.

“You were the one who sounded the alarm. You saved several bots who were in that area Juno.”--Tailgate

Juno shakes a bit and starts sniffling more.

Tailgate hugs their midsection.

The flood gate opens.

Juno falls on Cyclonus and Tailgate and weeps a bit.

The pair give each other a knowing look before going back to comforting their friend.

They do implore Juno to talk about their troubles with them, or Perceptor, or Rodimus or Rung if it was bad.

Tailgate later comms in Rodimus to come by and get Juno once they are ready and want to see him.

Whirl

Whirl had been walking with Juno when it happened.

Whirl had managed to rope Juno into going out for a drink after a while of pestering.

He secretly wanted to know what a tipsy or drunk Juno was like, and he wanted evidence.

That’s when something jumped from the corner in front of them.

It looked like Tarn.

Whirl immediately began firing at ‘Tarn’.

Turned out it was a well sculpted dummy that looked like Tarn.

“Ha! Just a dummy! A real good looking dummy but that’s not—”--Whirl

Whirl notices Juno on the ground wide optic and shaking.

Their optics glued on the fake Tarn.

Whirl moves to them slowly.

“Hey Jumpy, its not real you know.”--Whirl

Juno’s shaking faltered slightly, that was a good sign.

He kneels down to help them up.

“Now, up we go and—”--Whirl

As soon as his claw touched their back, they launched their arms around him pulling him close and burring their faceplate into his neck cables.

“Hey, Juno! Can you just…”--Whirl

He stops when he feels wetness dribbling down his cables.

“…Sod it…”--Whirl

He could hear the mumbles of Tarn and other members of the DJD.

Carefully hoisting them into his arms and walked back into his habsuite.

Privacy was needed for this kind of thing.

And he had a reputation to uphold!

They make it to the room; he trips over something and topples on to the berth with them.

Juno hadn’t let go the entire time.

Whirl started talking randomly to fill the void.

He started talking about the clocks he had been working on.

The talking seemed to work in calming the bot down.

An hour later Whirl was showing Juno the inner working of his latest clock.

He watches from afar that they get back to Perceptor or Rodimus before going back to his own business.

The next day, Whirl found several new clock parts at his door with a thank you note attached to it.

First Aid

First Aid didn’t know what made him walk out of the med bay but he is glad he did.

He figured he just needed a break from everything in the bay and needed to clear his processor.

He isn’t expecting to see Juno in a dark corner shaking.

“Juno!”—First Aid

First Aid comes over to the shaking bot and kneels down examining their frame for any injuries.

There are none.

He notices their rapid venting, tears, and them grabbing certain places in their frame.

Places that he remembered fixing when they came back from…

Juno was mumbling something but kept their optics shut.

“Juno, Juno its First Aid…You’re on the Lost Light, you’re on the floor, your safe… is okay to touch you?”—First Aid

Juno slowly nods as the shaking subsides.

The medic slowly lifts the shaking bot and helps them walk back to a private part of the med bay.

The pair goes to their habsuite and that’s where Juno explained to him what happened.

It turned out someone had blasted the Empyrean suite in their office as some cruel joke.

Which reminded them that they needed to explain to Magnus why the door had been kicked down and indented into the wall.

They thought they were back on the ship, the pod, the giant servos…

First Aid comms in Ratchet that he wasn’t going to be returning for his shift, something else came up and needed his attention.

First aid stayed with Juno until they were better.

The medic later comms in Perceptor giving him an update on Juno and lets him know that Juno is in the med bay.

[liaswritesrobots]

Inspired by @montyuh's asks about terrible soulmates.

"Check his arm." Tarn commanded Vos.

Vos shook his head after examining the mech's arm.

Still no luck. Though he supposed that was a good thing, since he didn't want to be the sparkmate of a dead mech. Still, it's been centuries and he still hasn't found anyone with the name that was written across his arm and he hasn't found anyone with his name on theirs.

He sometimes imagines what kind of bot they are, to have such a strange name for a cybertronian- perhaps they weren't born on Cybertron and instead are a part of a colony off world. He wonders if they're a Decepticon. He hopes they're a Decepticon... or at least a neutral that could be easily swayed into joining the Decepticons. He wonders what colors they've decorated their frame with. And what color their optics are. And if they like music. He hopes they like music. He could sing for them.

He thinks about them far too much some would say. Obsessively checking every bot they off to make sure they aren't the one. Not that he's opposed to murdering his sparkmate if they're an Autobot or defector, but he can't help but feel a tinge of sadness at the thought of the bot made solely for him being his enemy.

He wants to know the euphoria of having his other half by his side. Someone to hold him on those long, lonely nights aboard The Peaceful Tyranny. Someone to protect. To conquer. To playfully tease in the privacy of his habsuit. Someone that loves him.

He sighs, turning to leave the room. Ever since they boarded this Primus awful ship crawling with Autobots he's had this... feeling... that the one he's supposed to meet is here. He wonders if there's a chance they're locked in the holding cells. Some Decepticon prisoner that wandered into these fools' path and found themselves at their mercy.

That wouldn't be so bad. Then he could free them himself. They'd be completely indebted to him then. They'd have no choice but to be by his side and-

He stops in his tracks noticing you standing there with a blaster aimed at him.

Human.

These Autobots and their love for organics... it's disgusting! Letting one of you live amongst them. Disgraceful. What a pathetic little thing, trembling at the sight of him despite your fighting stance. Your little arms can barely hold that blaster up and they're shaking too bad for you to even get a clear sh-

Hold on...

He squints, examining your trembling arms. They're shakey but he swears- he swears he can see the word "Damus" on it. His eyes grow wide and with a swift step he snatches you off the ground causing you to drop your blaster. You scream and struggle and try to hit his hand to make him let go of you but he brings you to his face to examine you.

He raises his other hand and between two digits, violently stretches your arm out causing you to cry out in pain.

Damus

And it looks like the word "Glitch" is faded behind it.

"No." He whispers. "No. No. No! No! NO! NO! NO!" Each no getting louder an more desperate as his grip starts to tighten around you. You manage to yank your arm free from his grip and try to pull yourself up out of his hand.

"Human, what is your name?" His eyes narrow.

"Like I'd tell you!"

Defiance. Even in the face of danger, even within his grasp that could easily end your life you refuse his simple request. He tightens his grip again, causing a sharp pain in you as you gasp and huff for air, "Tell me!" He demands through gritted teeth.

You comply this time and his grip not only loosens, he nearly drops you as he falls to his knees.

This is joke. This has to be. A cruel prank by Primus! There's no way his sparkmate is organic! This is a mistake! You can't be the one that is supposed to love him no matter what. You can't be the one he's wanted to hold and cherish for so long. You can't be the one he's been waiting for all of his life. You can't! You can't!

"Tarn?"

The sound of Tesarus' voice down the hall snaps him back into the moment. He stares down at you trying to pry yourself from his hand so you can escape. He closes his fist around you once more and opens his chest, placing you inside. He uses the wall to help himself back up.

"You ok?" Tess asks, running up beside the mech.

"Yes. I just... I think I need to go outside for a moment. I'll be back soon." Tarn turns away and staggers down the other end of the hall towards an exit

"You want us to put the party on hold for you?"

"No. Kill everyone you find. Do not leave even one spark intact." Tarn reponds.

He just has to clear his head. Some fresh air will do the ventilators good. He'll figure out what to do with you once he can think straight again.

[wifetomegatron]

i'm tired of studying, so here is a poorly written love letter essay on my infatuation with lonely women, birds in cages and transformers.

i have always had this fascination with the psychological ruminations on self-hood & identity. often, the stories closest to my heart have wealthy, waifish, women at the heart of their narratives. not always because they're relatable, but because from their point of view, the narrator is trying to hide something from the audience. to conceal the chaos and conflict that surrounds us with an illusion of peace —tethering on the edge of rose coloured glasses. alienated in this little bubble, a golden cage is still a cage.

and sometimes, to some people, the loneliest place on earth is a big house with windows high enough to reach the ceiling. because they echo back the depth of our aloneness. 

now, how does this relate to transformers? well, i have always been the kind of girl to combine two interests in one. and so i am aching to write about frivolous, indulgent women drowning in denial, forced to confront the isolation gnawing their hearts open like a sick, open wound. all because they get thrown into absurd situations where they cross paths with war-tired titans so detached from the idea of ever returning to a life before chaos.

one suffocates in peace while the other chokes on impossible dreams. 

i want a naive, prestigious, overly idealistic, investigative prosecutor from earth aboard the lost light, sent to keep an eye on megatron only to end up falling for him. because the moment she spends time alone with him: she gets a metaphorical slap across the face about her privilege and has to confront the sheltered, ignorant set of lenses she's been viewing the world through. whereas through her, the former warlord learns to tear down his walls brick by brick, starting with all the skepticism and temper. and the icing on the cake is that they learn from each other. there is a hole inside her chest, and he tells her he carries one too.

i want tarn to suffer a sudden lightheadedness from having walked into a bar on the shores of hedonia to spot a human woman singing behind the cloud of smoke and shadow. pearls and silver, glinting under the light like a forbidden present. her beauty comes from how lonely she looks with her eyes closed and mouth open, mic between her delicate fingers. tempting. alluring. it was like looking in the mirror. and the djd leader never learned to love anything else.

i want rung ( who in this hypothetical au is not primus for plot reasons ) to sit across a liaison who revels in the idea of sleeping alone in a big alloy ship because it takes her mind away from her empty childhood: where silk sheets and feathered pillows feel colder and harsher than any metal. the hug he gave her at the end of the session was the first time she was held and it didn't feel like he was there to hold her together. 

i want swerve to compliment her when she's tipsy and borderline drunk by the table of his bar and for her to hide her face and cry because she finally feels beautiful — truly, sincerely, beautiful. that out here, surrounded by an alien crew who couldn't care less about how she presents herself, pretty words suddenly don't feel transactional anymore.

i want this terrified and secluded bird inside of me to finally find a home within the arms of tall, metal mechs. mechs who are familiar with the vast, empty stretch of space. and is not terrified of lonely women and their quiet, self-destructive vices. and maybe that's why i love self-inserts so much, and writing on this blog breathes life into me — the nightingale in a cage meets a spaceman tired of fighting, and maybe only together can they find some sense of freedom. 

[cabinofimagines]

Chapter IV; convincing

So it took a while, but at some point I realised I wanted to finish writing at least arc one before posting the rest so oops.

Word Count: 1.2k

<- prev - mlist - next ->

-Asnyox

You both re-entered the clearing, followed closely by an overly excited Mrs. O’Leary. 

"No problem, I've got worse enemies than overweight satyrs." You overheard Percy saying. Nico was the first of you two to speak up, letting your presence be known to the demigod and tree nymph. 

"Good job, Percy. Judging from the trail of goat pellets, I'd say you shook him up pretty well." You could see clearly that Percy was nervous as he tried to smile. You were aware that Nico had made it pretty clear to Percy what his plan was, and if you were in this kid’s shoes you would have been nervous too. Luckily, you were just an idiot tagging along in the plan.

"Welcome back. Did you come by just to see Juniper? And who is your friend?" Nico blushed and you wondered whether it was about the friend thing, or about Juniper.

"This is (Y/n), and um, no. That was an accident. I kind of . . . dropped into the middle of their conversation." Blushing out of embarrassment then, you inwardly cheered. He also did not deny the friend comment you happily noted.

"He scared us to death!" Juniper said. "Right out of the shadows. But, Nico, you are the son of Hades and all. Are you sure you haven't heard anything about Grover?" Nico shifted his weight. Ah, she must have been crying worried over her lover. You had caught some of the stories around camp, however you did not know any of these people personally, so you tended to mind your own business. 

"Juniper, like I tried to tell you . . . even if Grover died, he would reincarnate into something else in nature. I can't sense things like that, only mortal souls." "But if you do hear anything?" she pleaded, putting her hand on his arm. "Anything at all?" Nico's cheeks got even brighter red. "Uh, you bet. I'll keep my ears open." 

"We'll find him, Juniper," Percy promised. "Grover's alive, I'm sure. There must be a simple reason why he hasn't contacted us." She nodded glumly. "I hate not being able to leave the forest. He could be anywhere, and I'm stuck here waiting. Oh, if that silly goat has gotten himself hurt—" Mrs. O'Leary bounded back over and took an interest in Juniper's dress. Juniper yelped. "Oh, no you don't! I know about dogs and trees. I'm gone!" She went poof into green mist. You gaped at her disappearance, never having gotten close to a tree nymph before. 

Mrs. O'Leary looked disappointed, but she lumbered off to find another target, leaving Nico, Percy and me alone. Nico tapped his sword on the ground. A tiny mound of animal bones erupted from the dirt. They knit themselves together into a skeletal field mouse and scampered off. You were impressed by his control, but truly you felt as if this shouldn’t have come as a surprise. 

"I was sorry to hear about Beckendorf." Nico said and you downcast your gaze, having heard the news quiet recently. This was one of the first people from camp that you knew who died, and the news had taken a toll on camp. 

"How did you—" Percy started, and you were reminded that he was there with Beckendorf on the ship. "I talked to his ghost." So the rumours about Nico’s powers were true – he could actually converse with the dead. "Oh . . . right." "Did he say anything?" 

"He doesn't blame you. He figured you'd be beating yourself up, and he said you shouldn't." "Is he going to try for rebirth?" Nico shook his head. 

"He's staying in Elysium. Said he's waiting for someone. Not sure what he meant, but he seems okay with death." You weren’t sure how to feel about these developments, but before you could give it much thought Percy started talking again.

"I had a vision you were on Mount Tarn," he told Nico. "Was that—" 

"Real," Nico said. "I didn't mean to be spying on the Titans, but I was in the neighbourhood." "Doing what?" 

Nico tugged at his sword belt. "Following a lead on . . . you know, my family." Percy nodded. You side eyed your friend, wanting the ask for an elaboration. However, you had felt him close the moment Percy started asking questions to him. You had heard a whisper about a sister, but there was nothing you could go off from. Nico was a mystery to you and you wished you could unravel it. 

"So how did it go?" Percy asked. "Any luck?" 

"No," he murmured. "But I may have a new lead soon." 

"What's the lead?" 

Nico chewed his lip. "That's not important right now. You know why I'm here." You saw Percy’s face fall. You knew Nico wanted you to help convince Percy, but you had barely exchanged a word with the son of Poseidon before. What were you supposed to do? Tell him you would safe him from being stabbed? 

"Nico, I don't know," Percy said. "It seems pretty extreme." 

"You've got Typhon coming in, what . . . a week? Most of the other Titans are unleashed now and on Kronos's side. Maybe it's time to think extreme." Nico looked towards you as to urge you to help him. You stepped forward. 

“If I may, Percy, “ you looked the son of Poseidon in the eye, surprised by the distrust in them, “I’ve been at camp since April – if Nico hadn’t brought me here I would have been dead and I know that even with how hard I – we – camp has been working,” you heard sounds of fighting in the distance, “I fear we are hardly a match for the Titan army.” Nico nodded in agreement. 

“This comes down to you and Luke. And there's only one way you can beat Luke We can give you the same power," Nico urged. "You heard the Great Prophecy. Unless you want to have your soul reaped by a cursed blade . . ." You hadn’t heard the prophecy fully yourself – around camp it was deemed a kind off taboo to mention or talk about.

“You can't prevent a prophecy," Percy said. 

"But you can fight it." Nico had a strange, hungry light m his eyes. "You can become invincible." 

"Maybe we should wait. Try to fight without—" 

"No!" Nico snarled. "It has to be now!" You were startled at his outburst – but you did agree with him. 

"Urn, you sure you're okay?" Percy asked and you threw him a wary look. 

“Percy, look,” you started as you noticed Nico taking a deep breath, “It will be significantly harder, maybe even impossible to take this journey when the fighting starts. Maybe even too late- if you want to prevent any more losses, deaths on our side you must go now.”

“I'm sorry if I'm being too pushy,” Nico’s gaze was strict towards Percy, “but two years ago my sister gave her life to protect you. I want you to honour that. Do whatever it takes to stay alive and defeat Kronos”

"All right," Percy decided. "What do we do first?"

[petitelepus]

Is it ok if I have a yandere nickel x human reader x yarn drabble?

Nickle cared, the Decepticon Justice Division knew it and you knew it. It just appeared like she cared a little too much when it came to you...

"Absolutely not!" Nickel shouted as she held you protectively in her arms. Tarn sighed, "I'm not saying we-!"

"I don't care! I am not going to let them out of my sight!"

"Nickel, I know you care about them, but I think-!"

"You're fragging right I care about them!" Nickel snapped, and wow, Tarn was getting no say in this. You almost felt bad about the situation you had caused with your little escape attempt.

Not that Nickel or Tarn knew. In their eyes or optics, you had just fallen from a high place and twisted your ankle and hurt your wrist while trying to soften the fall.

It hurt and your cry of pain had alerted the medic of the DJD. So here you were, being held by the small femme as she tried to protect you from Tarn who wanted to lock you in some cage like an animal.

Well, you kinda of were their little mascot, but the cage was maybe a little too much? That's what Nickel thought at least.

"Nickel, please-!"

"No, Tarn, I'm going to take them to the medbay where I will bandage them and then take them to my habsuite where they should stay at!"

If Tarn wanted to object he didn't. No, instead his shoulders slumped as he let Nickel carry you to medbay where she set you on a table to sit on while she performed a quick x-ray on you.

She hummed, pleased to see that you hadn't broken anything, but your wrist and ankle sure were sore.

"I can't understand how you managed to hurt both your wrist and ankle...!" She grumbled as she reached for a bandage.

Ah, she stole the words from your mouth.

You hummed quietly as she moved her servo and you got the hint. Slowly, you extended your arm and leg to her and she started to bandage them so they could heal properly.

"Thank you..." You thanked quietly.

"Yeah, you better thank me," Nickel grumbled stubbornly. You smiled, "Sorry that I scared you like that."

"I wasn't scared!" The stubborn little femme snapped, "I was just worried that you might break something!"

Ah, that is called being scared, but you didn't say anything to her, not wanting to get to her bad side.

Not like that was possible, she seemed to worship you and was willing to look past mistakes and such.

Maybe she knew that you had tried to escape but chose not to believe it. Maybe it was for the best for both her and your sake.

Either way, you wouldn't be trying again any time soon with a twisted ankle and wrist... Or if you were going to be locked in Nickle's room for the rest of your life.

It would be for your own good, she would no doubt say, but for now, she was quiet and you appreciated it.

[deliriousbug]

Going wayyyy back to the first caption gladiator s/o, can I request that same s/o being forced to resort to their gladiatorial combat and absolutely demolishing the opponent (maybe someone if the DJD?) and megatron being in awe and then finally having it CLICK that his s/o is not just the FIRST champion, but THE champion? The horror of the pits, the scourge of kaon, the lord of gladiators?

The DJD had found them again. Megatron had feared as much. Even with the combined force of every bot aboard the Lost Light, their chances of victory were slim. But there was nothing left to do except fight. Megatron had practically begged his lover to stay behind, to protect the ship and those who could not defend themselves, but they had refused. Vehemently. Although neither of them desired battle or bloodshed, they would force themselves into action, knowing damn well that they were the most powerful duo among the crew. The two fought side by side, managing to down Tesarus.

Megatron’s old war frame buzzed with adrenaline and his engine turned over loudly as he lifted a battered servo to rest it on his lover’s heaving shoulders. They gave him a weary smile and opened their mouth to speak, but a gunshot drowned them out. Megatron lurched from the force of the blast, optics blown wide in pain. He looked down to find a gaping hole through his waist. As he collapsed, he caught sight of Tarn stalking towards them, blaster smoking. 

Megatron’s lover let out a strangled, anguished cry and charged at Tarn. They attacked with a frenzied fury, and Megatron had never seen them move so fast and light. As Ratchet rushed over to tend to him, he watched in both awe and concern as his lover let loose. They fought like legends of old were said to have fought; wild yet precise, quick yet powerful. Megatron thought he knew his lover. They were one of the first champion gladiators of the Pits. But the more he watched them, the clearer it became that even Tarn was no match for their completely unleashed skill and power, and the more Megatron came to realize that his lover wasn’t just one of the first champions. They were THE Champion Gladiator. The one legends were written about. The horror of the Pits. The scourge of Kaon. The lord of the gladiators. And that knowledge made his spark ache for them even more. 

In what felt like mere moments, Megatron’s lover was standing over Tarn’s warm, twitching corpse, his spark in their servo. They’re covered in his energon, and the look in their optics was absolutely feral. They crushed Tarn’s spark and dropped it atop his cooling frame. 

Megatron called out to them, and when they spotted him and ran over, they shoved Ratchet aside despite the old medic’s protests. Their frame clicked and whirred loudly and their bloodied servos trembled when they touched Megatron’s undamaged side. 

He saw the darkness and the panic battling in their expression and lifted a servo to gently cup their face. They turned wild optics on him and it broke his spark to see this version of them —this version that they constantly told him they were terrified of— like a thick film covering their usually kind and warm optics. 

“Come back to me, my love,” Megatron rumbled, voice rougher than usual from pain. 

They shuttered their optics and leaned into his touch as they struggled to smother their old gladiator mindset. When they opened them again, there were tears beading on the rims. 

Megatron pulled them against his chassis even though it hurt. “You did good, love,” he murmured. “But the fight’s over and I need you to focus back on us, on the present.” He kissed the crest of their helm adoringly. “You’re safe now,” he added. He didn’t mean from the current fight, nor from the tumultuous universe that surrounds them day and night. He meant only that they were safe from the Pits, safe from starvation and bloodsport. Safe from the past, but never the future.

[glitterp0prhaps0dy]

'New companions'

Floyd's consciousness tiptoed back to him in a slow, unsteady rhythm. As he fluttered open his eyes, the stark brightness of the hospital room ambushed his senses, compelling him to raise an arm in a feeble attempt to shield himself from the glare. A groan escaped his lips, a testament to the throbbing ache that had taken up residence in his head, pulsating with an intensity that matched the sharp, relentless pain radiating from his leg. The discomfort was a harsh reminder of the ordeal he had endured, even as the details of how he ended up here remained shrouded in a haze of confusion and exhaustion.

As Floyd's ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps, curiosity overpowered his discomfort, prompting him to lower his arm and brave the room's harsh lighting. Squinting through the discomfort, he discerned the figures of two trolls approaching his bedside. These weren't the vibrant, colorful trolls he was accustomed to; their appearances were distinctly different, bearing a resemblance more akin to doctors, yet unlike any he had encountered before in his life.

His voice, rough and laced with confusion, broke the silence between them. "Where am I? How am I still alive?" The questions tumbled out, each word punctuated by genuine bewilderment and a hint of fear. Floyd found himself grappling with the reality of his situation, the unknowns wrapping around him like a dense fog, as he awaited their response, hoping for some clarity amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

As Floyd's ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps, curiosity overpowered his discomfort, prompting him to lower his arm and brave the room's harsh lighting. Squinting through the discomfort, he discerned the figures of two trolls approaching his bedside. These weren't the vibrant, colorful trolls he was accustomed to; their appearances were distinctly different, bearing a resemblance more akin to doctors, yet unlike any he had encountered before in his life.

His voice, rough and laced with confusion, broke the silence between them. "Where am I? How am I still alive?" The questions tumbled out, each word punctuated by genuine bewilderment and a hint of fear. Floyd found himself grappling with the reality of his situation, the unknowns wrapping around him like a dense fog, as he awaited their response, hoping for some clarity amidst the chaos of his thoughts.

Floyd's voice wavered as he recounted the scant details he could muster, the fear he had felt in those moments bleeding through his words. "How I was injured? I... it's all a blur. It all happened so quickly. I was just walking in a forest, and then this creature attacked me." The recollection sent a shiver down his spine, the fear palpable in his voice as he spoke of the creature.

Dr. Ragna and Dr. Tarn leaned in, their interest piqued by the mention of a creature. They exchanged a look of concern and curiosity before bombarding Floyd with a series of questions aimed at uncovering more about this mysterious entity. "Can you describe the creature? Was it something you've seen before? Do you remember any specific features?"

Floyd did his best to answer, his honesty evident in the effort he made to recall the terrifying encounter. "I've never seen anything like it before," he admitted, struggling to paint a picture with his words. "It was fast, incredibly fast, and it seemed... wrong, somehow. Like it didn't belong in the forest or anywhere else. Its cry was the most terrifying thing — it sounded almost like a distorted scream. And its face, it was like a nightmare brought to life."

The doctors listened intently to Floyd's description, jotting down notes as he spoke. It was clear that they were taking his account seriously, considering every detail he provided. After a moment of silence, Dr. Tarn spoke up, her voice reassuring. "Thank you for sharing that, Floyd. It sounds like a harrowing experience. We're going to do everything we can to help you recover."

Floyd nodded, a mixture of gratitude and lingering fear in his eyes. While the physical wounds might heal in time, the psychological scars left by his encounter with the creature in the forest would take longer to fade. For now, though, he found some solace in the fact that he was safe within the walls of the Volcano Rock City Infirmary, far from the dark forest and the nightmare that had pursued him there.

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As the days stretched on within the confines of the hospital walls, Floyd found himself with ample time to ponder and explore the unfamiliar world of the rock trolls. Each passing moment became an opportunity for discovery, a chance to peel back the layers of this new and intriguing culture that surrounded him.

It began with the revelation that these people were called rock trolls, a name that seemed to echo the rugged, formidable landscape of their city. Floyd absorbed this knowledge with a mix of fascination and gratitude, grateful for the kindness and care they had shown him during his time of need.

But it was the gift of a simple book that truly ignited Floyd's curiosity and thirst for knowledge. With its pages filled with the basics of the different troll tribes, it served as a gateway to a world he had never known existed. As he delved into its contents, he found himself stunned and amazed to learn that pop trolls weren't the only tribe out there. There were others—rock trolls, techno trolls, funk trolls, and more—each with their own unique customs, traditions, and way of life.

The realization was a revelation, opening Floyd's eyes to the rich tapestry of troll culture that existed beyond his own tribe. He poured over the pages with rapt attention, soaking in every detail, every nuance of these diverse and vibrant communities. They were all so different, yet their differences weren't divisive; they were a celebration of uniqueness, of individuality.

In the quiet solitude of his hospital room, Floyd found himself captivated by the stories and histories of these other tribes, their tales weaving a colorful tapestry of unity amidst diversity. It was a realization that left him both humbled and inspired, igniting a newfound appreciation for the beauty and complexity of the world around him.

As Floyd's thoughts drifted back to the day his band broke up, a pang of remorse washed over him as he remembered his older brother Clay's words. "I quit too, and you can keep these. I’m more than just the fun one. I’m in a sad book club. Did you know that? A sad book club. I’m gonna find trolls who take me seriously." The realization hit Floyd like a wave, stirring up feelings of regret and missed opportunities. He wished he had known his brother's interests and passions beyond their band personas, but the constraints of their roles had kept them from truly connecting as brothers.

Before Floyd could dwell further on his thoughts, the entrance of three unfamiliar trolls interrupted his musings. Their presence was palpable, their appearances distinct and intriguing.

The first troll to catch Floyd's attention was the older rock troll, exuding an air of maturity and wisdom. His muddy blue skin, purple nose, and streaks of grey in his black hair painted a picture of experience and resilience. Dressed in a gothic rock outfit complete with knitted fingerless gloves, a leather vest, and black striped pants, he seemed to embody a sense of strength and individuality.

The second troll, closer to Floyd's age, stood out with their unique features. Messy black hair, a red beanie adorned with devil horns, and a plaid blueish-grey shirt paired with torn black shorts gave them a distinct appearance. But it was the presence of a tail and hooves, reminiscent of a cow, combined with only two legs that truly caught Floyd off guard. It was a sight he had never encountered before, sparking his curiosity and intrigue.

Lastly, Floyd's gaze fell upon the youngest of the trio, a troll with a large fluffy mohawk transitioning from red to black. Despite her torn ear, something about her stirred a sense of familiarity in Floyd's mind, a nagging feeling that he couldn't quite place.

As the three trolls entered his room, Floyd couldn't help but wonder about their intentions and what their presence meant for him in this unfamiliar world of rock trolls.

The older rock troll cleared his throat gently before speaking, his voice commanding yet infused with an unexpected warmth. "Greetings, young pop troll. My name is Thrash, King of the Rock Trolls. These," he gestured beside him, "are my children, Rebel and Barb." His hand first directed toward the hoofed troll with a devilish beanie, Rebel, and then toward the younger troll with the striking mohawk, Barb.

Barb stepped forward, her gaze soft but filled with a quiet strength that seemed characteristic of her tribe. "Hey there, glad to see you're kinda okay now. You were pretty out of it with all that water in your lungs when I pulled you out," she said, her voice carrying a mix of concern and a hint of her rock troll edge. Her words, though straightforward, were imbued with an undercurrent of empathy and care.

Floyd's confusion lingered, his mind trying to piece together the puzzle of these unexpected visitors. "Why are you visiting me?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

The trio of rock trolls exchanged a knowing glance before Thrash, the King of the Rock Trolls, stepped forward to address Floyd's question. "It's going to be a while before you can walk on your legs again, which means you can't really leave the city," he explained, his tone measured yet kind.

Before Thrash could continue, Barb interjected with a mischievous grin, her sharp teeth glinting in the room's light. "And it's gotta be sooooo boring sitting in here every day with only just... that," she declared, gesturing emphatically to the book in Floyd's hands.

Thrash chuckled at his daughter's dramatic flair before resuming his explanation. "We've decided, well, why not take you to our home? You'll be in a more comfortable environment than a hospital room, and you won't be limited to just reading. Plus, you'd have people to hang out with," he added with a reassuring smile.

Floyd's mind raced with thoughts and questions, but a glimmer of excitement flickered within him at the prospect of leaving the confines of the hospital and exploring the home of the rock trolls. It was an unexpected turn of events, but one that offered a glimpse of hope and companionship during his recovery.

Floyd's gratitude mingled with apprehension as he processed Thrash and Barb's proposal. "I really appreciate the offer, but I wouldn't want to intrude on your home," he began, his voice tentative.

Barb waved off his concerns with a dismissive flick of her hand. "Pffft, intrude? Nah, we're practically begging you to come," she insisted, her tone playful yet earnest.

Thrash chimed in, his expression warm but resolute. "Absolutely, Boy. Consider it a gesture of goodwill from one troll to another. Plus, Rebel here," he nodded toward the silent figure of their middle child, "wouldn't mind the company either, I'm sure."

Rebel remained silent, their attention fully absorbed by their own fingers, seemingly unfazed by the conversation unfolding around them.

Floyd couldn't help but chuckle at the persistence of his newfound rock troll companions. "Well, if you're sure it's not too much trouble..." he relented, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Barb grinned triumphantly. "Great! It's settled then. We'll swing by the hospital to pick you up when you're ready to roll," she declared, her excitement palpable.

Thrash nodded in agreement, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. "Looking forward to having you with us, Pop troll. It'll be an adventure, that's for sure," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

With the decision made and the promise of a new chapter awaiting him, Floyd felt a sense of excitement bubble within him. It seemed that fate had thrown him an unexpected curveball, but with the support and camaraderie of his rock troll companions, he was ready to embrace whatever adventures lay ahead.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the two days since Floyd had begun living with the rock trolls, he found himself adjusting to their rowdy yet welcoming lifestyle. The electric wheelchair they had provided him with was a marvel to behold, its design a perfect blend of hard rock aesthetics and practicality. The chair was adorned with sleek black leather, studded with metallic accents reminiscent of a guitar fretboard. Its wheels were rimmed with jagged edges, resembling the teeth of a shredding guitar pick. Even the controls were shaped like miniature amplifiers, complete with knobs and switches that gave the impression of unleashing a sonic onslaught with every movement.

Despite his initial reservations, Floyd quickly found himself enjoying the company of his rock troll companions. Barb's enthusiasm for music was infectious, and he relished the opportunity to listen to her original compositions, each note reverberating with raw energy and emotion. Watching Barb play the guitar was a revelation in itself; the younger troll's skill and passion for rock music were evident in every chord and riff, bridging the gap between their worlds with the universal language of music.

Thrash, though often busy with his duties as king, made sure to extend his kindness and hospitality whenever he was home. His gruff exterior belied a heart of gold, and Floyd soon realized that rock trolls, much like pop trolls, valued camaraderie and solidarity above all else.

However, amidst the harmony and camaraderie, one discordant note remained: Rebel's silent demeanor. Despite their presence in the household, Rebel remained aloof, their silence a barrier that Floyd couldn't seem to penetrate. The troll's blank stares and abrupt departures left Floyd feeling a pang of hurt and uncertainty, wondering if Rebel harbored resentment towards him.

Yet, as Floyd reflected on the situation, he realized that Rebel's behavior likely stemmed from a sense of protectiveness over their home and family. After all, he was a newcomer in their midst, a stranger intruding upon their space. With patience and understanding, Floyd resolved to earn Rebel's trust, knowing that building bridges between their worlds would take time and effort.

The living room exuded a distinct hard rock aesthetic, with walls and floors crafted from volcanic rocks that seemed to pulsate with an inner fire. The rugged surfaces were adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes of epic battles and legendary tales, adding to the room's aura of ancient majesty and power.

In this imposing setting, Floyd and Barb found themselves engaged in their own quiet activities. Floyd sat comfortably in his wheelchair, his surroundings bathed in the warm glow of flickering torches mounted on the walls. A small notebook lay open in his lap, its pages filled with his sketches and doodles, each stroke of his pencil a reflection of his inner thoughts and emotions.

Meanwhile, Barb perched on the floor nearby, her guitar cradled in her arms as she meticulously tuned its strings. Her red and black mohawk stood out against the backdrop of volcanic rock, a vibrant burst of color amidst the room's somber hues.

As Floyd continued to sketch, Barb's curiosity got the better of her, prompting her to turn her attention towards him. "Who's that?" she inquired, her voice cutting through the silence like a razor-sharp riff.

Floyd paused, setting aside his pencil as he turned the notebook to face Barb. "My family," he explained, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "This one is my grandma, her name's Rosiepuff. This is my oldest brother, John Dory. This is spruce, this is Clay," he continued, his finger tracing over each sketch in turn. But when he reached the drawing of a small troll with bright eyes and a mischievous smile, his expression softened, a bittersweet smile gracing his lips. "And this..." he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "is my baby brother, Branch. I miss him a lot."

Barb's gaze softened as she took in the drawing, sensing the depth of emotion behind Floyd's words. She may have been younger, but she understood loss and longing all too well. Without a word, she reached out and placed a comforting hand on Floyd's shoulder, offering silent solidarity in their shared moments of remembrance.

In that brief moment, Barb offered words of comfort to Floyd, a simple gesture of empathy between two young souls from different worlds. "You'll see him soon," she said, trying to inject a note of hope into the heavy air. Floyd, touched by her kindness, smiled back, clinging to the thought of reunion. "Yeah, I will," he replied, allowing himself a moment of optimism. oh how wrong they both were.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[hanzajesthanza]

I wondered what is your favourite witcher moment? A moment/chapter that really struck with you? And why?

hmmm...

as for "favorites"...

i consider baptism of fire chapter 7 to be my favorite chapter out of the saga, because every scene in it is fantastic and a personal favorite... firstly, the frame story (love a good frame story!) of the children of vyrva hearing the legend from old storyteller pogwizd. then the heartache and black humor of regis loredropping his backstory, followed by interesting intellectual discussion, geralt's company and zoltan's company being reunited, emotional shattering of geralt consoling milva, and finally, one of the best action scenes: the battle of the bridge. and geralt and regis' side conversations in this chapter really serve to illustrate just how much geralt developed as a character in this book, a major aspect of why it's my favorite in the series (imo, geralt before baptism of fire is not as compelling as during and after it).

my favorite short story is something more, for its ending with geralt and ciri. and for its scenes with calanthe, yennefer, and death, each with powerful emotion. and for how visenna appears... i actually can't get through something more without crying, i cry every time. also, of course, geralt telling dandelion that he must have gone crazy with fear if he could think that geralt would leave him there... and i also think something more is an example of incredibly good writing, in terms of weaving everything together.

my favorite setting is beauclair, i find it really beautiful and yet the most tragic, in its beauty, because our heroes cannot stay there and it's not their destiny to live happily ever after. i joke "my mind is in beauclair" but it's actually true, it's the setting for a lot of my daydreaming and there's something so magical about it.

my favorite character introduction is tied inbetween dandelion (voice of reason 5) and angouleme (tower of the swallow 5).

in ciri's story, i think tower of the swallow was her strongest book, within that i like her time spent with vysogota. and, of course the ice skating scene on tarn mira is well-written and orchestrated (my favorite detail is that bonhart realizes what she's planning, and turns back without warning any of the rest... foreboding, foreshadowing, but also, hilarious).

and maybe an unpopular opinion: i like chapter 6 of time of contempt, when ciri is in the korath desert. it was a great way to break the crazy action of chapter 4 and interconnected politics of chapter 5. i find it to be much more figurative than a lot of people see it: "oh, ciri's in the desert and has to survive." yes, that's the literal interpretation of events... but the point of it is that she's abandoned by everyone who she thought promised to never abandon her, she realizes that all she learned is useless. and she wanders the desert ("for 40 days and 40 nights," one might say). the suffering is the point. it breaks her. it's hard to change a character this drastically, it's also hard to write a chapter with just one character and their introspection without much happening (expect for ihuarraquax showing up in the middle of it, i mean). but i think it was done well and was placed in exactly the right moment with the rest of the book. time of contempt has probably the best pacing out of the series.

the witcher does "suffering" really well, that's probably why it struck such a chord with me. so anything where a hero is in anguish is well-loved (for instance, geralt's monologue to iola in voice of reason, or the ending of a grain of truth).

i also like anything that is an allusion or in reference to another work or history, particularly when i can pick up on it - either i knew it before i read, or when i've had time to look into it and research it.

in particular, i like seeing odyssey parallels, like in the last wish, how geralt and yennefer go back to this ancient topos of a hero in conflict with a witch or sorceress, using trickery to defeat her - odysseus and circe - but yennefer is the one to trick geralt instead; and then they find love genuinely, putting this manufactured conflict down, recognizing a connection, not hatred. and i also see an odysseus - circe thing with geralt and fringilla. and one of the reasons i like beauclair so much is because of the "magic land tempts heroes into staying forever, staying their quest and making them either drugged or miserable" which is like at least four different places in the odyssey: the island of the lotophagoi, circe's aiaia, calypso's ogygia, finally, scheria... someplace so perfect and beautiful that you just want to stay, but it will be your doom if you do. very metaphorical. and also on this topic, i think regis is like the anti-polyphemus, being a great host and displaying exemplary xenia, giving the heroes wine and not eating them or drinking them. it's them who get drunk, not him!

segueing from this, my favorite part of the odyssey is odysseus and telemachus. and so i really like everything about geralt and ciri, and how ciri inherits this misery of being a witcher from her father, though her future is left up to reader interpretation, i love the lines in chapter 7 of lady of the lake that she was all alone amongst an archipelago of places... i really like their story that he tried to save her by leaving her, and it was his leaving her which doomed them both. and i like how sapkowski decided for ciri to be a girl, which not only makes her interesting and unique as a hero, but also invites more interesting examination into her and geralt's relationship as a father-daughter relationship rather than a patriarchal lineage father-son inheritance. (the witcher would be so trite if ciri was a boy).

oh yes, anything relating to isolation and loneliness is a big win for me, which is also probably why i like the witcher so much, it's all about that

i have to stop writing now but i could literally go on about more favorite things for hours <3

[zephyrrhiesfyrian]

I have finally finished the first set of sixteen expression doodles/chat stickers! A thank you to @slugsjunk for indulging my nonsense and giving me characters to draw :3 This was fun for a lot of reasons, but a big one was that it gave me a reason to draw characters I never had before, which is always good for practice.

Here they are! :D (some of them I envisioned as having specific scenarios attached to them lol)

Ambulon: I imagine this was his expression when First Aid told him about jump-starting.

Swerve: he's nervous because he's not taken his visor off in front of anybody before, but don't worry, the person he's looking at thinks he's cute. (they're in my next set >:3)

You might notice he's missing his visor. @slugsjunk's sent an edit of a visorless Swerve to the "cursed-images" channel in our Discord server and then asked me to use him for one of the expressions. I deigned to make him a little less deeply upsetting.

Whirl: he's flirting with Cyclonus ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Cyclonus: oh shit he flirtin' bACK- (＃°Д°)

Getaway: I just wanted to make him cry. Is that so wrong? Kinda makes me angry how nice his highlights turned out.

Megatron: he just handed Minimus a poem he wrote about him and now he a lil nervous 👉👈

Thunderclash: (I already posted this one earlier) he's laughing at some silly joke Rodimus made because he's a himbo in love with his captain <3<3<3

He sparkle because that's the way @lush-specimen describes him in their fantastic fics :>

Rodimus: the opposite shot of the previous one; he's not happy about Thunderclash finding his joke funny. First the guy takes his quest, now he's like the only person who laughs at Roddy's jokes? This guy's GOTTA be hiding something! (spoiler alert: he's not, Thunderclash is just a massive dork :D)

Trailbreaker/Trailcutter: he angy >:(

Lyzack: Black Shadow cannot tell her and Leo apart nor does he care to, and she's getting tired of being called the wrong name. That man better be glad he's made out of ununtrium or he'd be dead metal.

I've never understood why she looks like a recolored Starscream in canon, nor am I particularly a fan of how blocky and unmoving Leozack's helm is, so I made my own design. Fight me.

Black Shadow: speak of the devil He's lookin' at Blue Bacchus and being hella gay for him :>

Blue Bacchus: he was not prepared to deal with a genuine Shady smile this early in the cycle. Please, Shadow, he's trying to fuel. Let the man drink his energon before you make him swoon.

Perceptor: he blushi blushi 'cause he watching Brainstorm do marginally safer science than usual. He is very proud that his constant nagging is paying off.

Dai Atlas: oop priestman with the big sword is not pleased. I wonder who's the cause...*looks at star saber*

Fulcrum: I bet Misfire took his drink or something. Or maybe he's just regretting that he didn't detonate and now he's stuck with these idiots.

Tarn: I choose to believe this is the face Tarn is always making behind his mask. *blep*

Reminder that I still have at least sixteen more of these still to complete; you are never safe. >:D

[theoceanoasis]

Soundwave getting stuck in the shadow zone after attempting to defeat tarn.

After defeating Tarn he thought that was the end. Except it wasn't and now he was trapped. Waking up he found himself in the exact same spot where he'd "died."

Except he was still there... Sort of. Watching as everyone looked around happy to be alive. He ignored them instead looking around for Hot Rod who stood up. He was relived to find him mostly uninjured and surprised, when the Autobot called his name. Looking around for him with his usual happy grin.

He tried to respond and tell Hot Rod that he was alive. Only to discover to his horror that no one could hear him. Instead he watched Hot Rods spoiler fall and a sad look crossed his face. One he was familiar with. It was a face of pain and loss. His spark squeezed and he wanted to reach out and comfort him.

He was distracted by Laserbeak flying over and crying out for him.

It hurt and he found himself reaching through their bond trying to reassure her. Except it didn't work. Something was blocking it.

He tried touching her in an attempt to reassure. Only to gasp as his hand went through. He tried going to Shadow Striker and waved his arms in front of her face. Only for her to walk right through him and go to Laserbeak. He watched her comfort his cassette and felt a sinking suspicion he didn't want to believe.

It was something Shockwave mentioned. It was about dimensions like their own except you couldn't do anything. Nothing was solid and no one from their dimension could see or hear you. Shockwave had always theorized about this place calling it the perfect Autobot prison.

At the time he hadn't given it much thought. Thinking it was a stupid idea. Now he was sick with the realization, that he was trapped here with no way of getting out.

Time moved both slowly and quickly. He watched his funeral only because he didn't have anything else to do. There was no other reason. He didn't care what anyone said about him.

However when Hot Rod spoke he found himself drawn towards him. He watched as he held back tears, body trembling as he gave a eulogy.

He must be going soft because watching Hot Rod cry made his spark ache. He reached out a hand wanting to comfort him, only to quickly pull back when it went through.

Pain overwhelmed him and he left. Only returning after it was over and Hot Rod was walking home. He watched as Shadow Striker handed him a bag of stuff.

"He'd want you to have this."

Hot Rod took it, his hands trembling. Neither of them said anything they didn't have to. Instead they shared a look, just between the two of them and Shadow Striker walked away leaving Hot Rod alone.

Curious about what Shadow Striker gave him, he followed Hot Rod home. Barely paying attention to his small apartment, he watched Hot Rod open the bag and pull out his journal.

He froze looking at the familiar datapad. He'd begun writing ever since he was a gladiator it was both a way to tell his story and relieve stress.

During the war he'd kept the habit of writing. Although he was more secretive about it. He couldn't let other Decepticons use it against him after all. Not even Shadow Striker knew or at least he thought she didn't.

He watched Hot Rod flip through the pages and felt his spark squeeze. Even though he was trapped in another dimension where Hot Rod couldn't see him. He was still nervous about Hot Rod reading the most recent parts where he was mentioned.

Thinking back to what he wrote he felt his optics widen. Shortly after the end of the war he'd written something very personal. It was a confession.

He watched as Hot Rod flipped to it as though something was guiding him. He watched the way he read it nervous about how Hot Rod would react.

His spark sped up and he stared unable to look away, when that's all he wanted. He studied Hot Rods face watching in shock as he began to cry.

He knelt down concerned that Hot Rod was upset by what he wrote. He most likely didn't feel the same way.

Except he was surprised when Hot Rod wrapped his arms around the datapad and whispered.

"I love you too."

Watching Hot Rod return his feelings he felt something. It made him want to leave. Instead of accepting his fate he was going to fight. He was going to find a way out of there and return to Hot Rod no matter what. This wasn't the end for him. He still had a life to live in his own dimension.

He promised himself and Hot Rod that he would return home. He wouldn't give up not without a fight.