#transfoama

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he lost his own poll lol

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IM CHOKING

sure she’s evil but look at those tits

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steamy.

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it's ok percy he'll take you with him

anyway i just think one of simpatico should have won

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Friends, Thundercracker deserves better than to just have an honorary spot in the poll just to be voted out.

Thundercracker deserves your vote!

We all know Soundwave and Jazz are fan favorites, but Thundercracker shouldn't be discarded just to give the vote to the "obvious" choices!

Thundercracker is KIND, CARING, and CREATIVE.

He is FUNNY and CHARMING. He FIGHTS FOR WHAT'S IMPORTANT TO HIM.

He deserves better than to have a cast off spot on the poll. If we work together to give him the recognition he deserves, we CAN have him win this poll!

VOTE FOR THUNDERCRACKER!

Transformers Robot Husband Poll (SEMIFINALS)

Make sure to vote on BOTH of the matches here.

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he deserves to enjoy himself :)

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i noticed a gap in the simpatico valveplug market so i

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from the 800 follower milestone poll. ya'll requested thirst trap Perceptor, so here he is :)

-day

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oh my hand slipped and i drew human simpatico

anyway i've been really normal about them lately

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i work today but it's Brainstorm Day and i can't let it pass by without anything so have this tarot card concept for the set im working on. mad scientist vibes

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Here today in the simpatico tag yet again bringing you my longest, horniest fic to date. this one really got out of hand. you can read the full fic on ao3 🥹

-

Perceptor was confident they’d gotten a few knowing looks from the security team, even if they hadn’t said anything.

That was unsurprising, he supposed. He and Brainstorm had stumbled out of the decontamination chamber utterly bedraggled, with obvious paint transfers decorating various points on their frames, particularly their pelvic plating. Perceptor’s systems were still reading as a tick over normal temperature. Overall, his own cladding felt… disheveled. Brainstorm had only hastily and belatedly retrieved his blast mask from the floor of the wash rack and—if Perceptor was right in remembering the measurements of his lab partner’s face (and he was, being quite familiar with it) —it was skewed at a bit of an angle.

After some prudent (but excruciating) attention from the security team, Perceptor had been pushed along to the medbay at Brainstorm’s insistence. It didn’t seem necessary anymore, but he supposed there was no telling what other adverse effects the chemical might have had. He wasn’t certain if the remaining heat in his systems was a result of lingering fumes still circulating his ventilation system, or if his warmth was being brought on by something else entirely—something teal, frustratingly brilliant and jet-shaped.

After the whole ordeal had been brought to a close and Perceptor found himself back in his hab suite after being discharged from the medbay—only then did he finally allow himself to consider the ramifications. Brainstorm had been overwhelmingly enthusiastic in his consent, but…

It was absurd that he was still able to let a sliver of doubt creep in, especially considering what had already passed. But unlike his lab partner, he was loath to proceed with anything short of 100% certainty that his calculations would not fail. There was the smallest catch—the slightest window for misunderstanding that Perceptor felt the need to close.

But not tonight. Tonight, he laid on his recharge slab and stared hard at the ceiling, failing to resist the memory of straddling Brainstorm’s lap as he pressed his weight back against the side of the decontamination chamber. Of molten gold optics searing him through the spark. Of an EM field laced with worshipful lust and—if he dared to think he was right—adoration. He remembered it all with perfect clarity despite the slow, cloying grasp of chemicals in his processor. He would remember the sensation of Brainstorm’s frame surging under his own until his spark sputtered out.

Ratchet had given him a clean bill of health—any particulate left from the chemical fumes was negligible enough as to be non-existent. Which meant the warmth creeping up his frame as he recalled the event belonged entirely to himself.

For a moment he considered comming Brainstorm’s frequency. Perhaps they needed to have a discussion now rather than later. But he squashed the thought before it got very far. Even if he was free from the effects of the fumes, his thinking was far from clear.

Instead, feeling a phantom of the same ache he had felt in the wash racks earlier, he shifted onto his side and stubbornly persuaded himself into recharge.

—

Perceptor was late returning to the lab the next day. He’d recharged longer than intended, and his internal chronometer hadn’t signaled him awake as usual. An oversight on his part—he put it down to the state he’d been in yesterday leaving him admittedly more scattered than usual. As he walked through the doors, he found Brainstorm already attending his workstation, reassembling parts of the familiar project he had been at work on for the past several weeks. He felt a flicker of irony go through him at the sight of it. If it hadn’t been for the explosion of that project, none of what they’d done yesterday would have been likely to happen.

As Perceptor entered, Brainstorm’s busy hands abruptly froze in their work. The jet looked at him and tilted his wings in a gesture Perceptor had learned to mean that he was embarrassed, or at least a little self-conscious. Even if his face was covered by the blast mask, his optics were round as they landed on where he lingered in the doorway.

“Hey! Thought you’d never wake up. Here’s me, taking on the burden of all the routine lab work all by myself.” Brainstorm’s jaunty tone didn’t reveal anything out of the ordinary, even if his body language did. “Just kidding! I left the stuff you usually do. I’m not that charitable.”

Perceptor felt a smile flicker across his face despite himself. “I wouldn’t have expected you to take over my duties in the lab, Brainstorm.”

The look Brainstorm gave him was sidelong; hesitant. Perceptor had gotten somewhat proficient in reading the flier’s moods—even the moods he wasn’t keen to share openly. He’d watched him long enough to understand the expressions of his wings and the subtle tilts of his ailerons. Quite often, they contradicted whichever mood Brainstorm outwardly affected. But right now, his wings were still. Perceptor wasn’t certain what he had on his mind, but he could guess.

“Good,” he said, finally, turning back to his work. His hands moved stiffly as he picked up a screwdriver and started tightening down a panel. “Cuz I was starting to wonder if you were gonna come in at all.”

Perceptor crossed into the lab and hesitated at his own workstation. He needed to attend to his checklist so that he could get to work—he was already behind, and of course, there were procedures to follow before he could delve into his project. But he stood silently instead, casting a scrutinizing gaze at the spot on his desk where his chemical experiment had spilled the day before.

“Brainstorm…” he started. “About yesterday...”

He heard the screwdriver hit Brainstorm’s desk. He didn’t look up in time to notice if he’d dropped it or simply put it down too hard. The jet’s posture was wound tight. He broke a glance off in Perceptor’s direction, optics strained, before looking down at his own hands as he laid them flat on the surface of his workstation. His wing struts snapped straight behind him. “Yeah?”

Perceptor deliberated. Conversations such as these were difficult for him. No, he couldn’t say that, in truth. He’d never had a conversation quite like this. A part of him yearned to sweep it away, but he’d seen where remaining silent had gotten him. It seemed neither of them were particularly proficient with navigating their feelings, but he wasn’t going to allow either of them to pretend it hadn’t happened.

He vented out. He needed 100% certainty.

“For one thing,” he resumed. “I wanted to apologize again. My behavior yesterday was… unseemly.”

Brainstorm’s wings bobbed, dipping down slightly before returning to their previous position. Hurt. Perceptor frowned lightly.

“Hey, don’t worry, Percy,” Brainstorm said easily, nothing of the hurt that had been evident in his wing language carrying in his voice, “You weren’t yourself. Obviously. Let’s… we don’t have to blow it up, yeah?” He put on an ironic laugh. “I've got 'blowing up' covered already. So don’t worry about it.”

Perceptor opened his mouth and shut it again. With an effort, he drew himself away from his workbench, curling his hands into steely fists before relaxing his arms to his sides. He approached Brainstorm a few steps. His lab partner cycled a quick blink.

“No, Brainstorm, I was entirely myself,” Perceptor explained. When Brainstorm didn’t move, Perceptor sighed and carefully reached up to remove his targeting lens. He looked down at it, checking its angles as he fidgeted the hard edges of the glass between his fingers. “The chemicals only affected my interface protocols and my inhibitions. They didn’t affect my judgment.”

That caught Brainstorm’s interest. He turned in place, looking like he didn’t know what to do with his limbs. His hands reached back and caught the edge of his desk, kneading there nervously. “You… sure?”

“Quite.” Perceptor ceased with scrutinizing his targeting lens, but still tensed his fingers around it as he looked at Brainstorm seriously. “I meant the things I said. Especially towards the end.”

The jet seemed skittish; optics cracked wide. He looked like his individual components were threatening to rattle apart but he was keeping them together by sheer force of will. “Y-yeah. Okay. I mean, when you left and didn’t say anything after… And then when you were late this morning… I kinda worried, m-maybe you were, uh. Ashamed, or something.”

Perceptor’s expression softened. He could see how Brainstorm might have made that assumption. Gently, he took another step forward and let his field pulse with reassurance and a soft, measured affection. Brainstorm physically eased, optics going liquid.

“Brainstorm…” he said, voice gentling. “The only thing I’m ashamed of is the fact that it’s taken me so long to set things straight between us.”

Brainstorm froze. Whether he was stunned or simply caught in a lingering grip of uncertainty that he couldn’t force himself to part with was unclear. Perceptor braced himself. 100% certainty. “When… Yesterday.” He couldn’t bring himself to elaborate. He cleared his intakes at the memory. “I asked if you wanted me to court you.”

“Yeah?” Brainstorm looked at him and braced himself like he was on the brink of running. Whether it was towards Perceptor or away from him was debatable.

“Well?”

The moment was heavy with expectation. Brainstorm cycled his optics several times in succession, causing their light to flutter. “I… yes! I said yes, didn’t I?”

Perceptor eased. He hadn’t noticed when his struts had gone so rigid, but the relief that swept up his spark was immediate. He took a second to refix his targeting lens astutely. If his field gave off a pulse that was a bit self-satisfied, he couldn’t help it. “Actually, you said—and I quote: ‘I want you to frag my lights out.’”

He felt his frame warm up at the memory. Whatever misgivings he might have had at repeating Brainstorm’s course plea—no doubt spoken in the thoughtless haste of his arousal—he was rewarded when the jet’s wings bobbed upward and his field gave off a bright wave of joy. “That I did…” he said with a lilt of smugness. His optics thinned in a hidden grin. “And that you did. And…” He dithered. “Um, what I definitely meant was. Yes. Yes, though. I’d like that. I’d really like that.”

Perceptor smiled genuinely. The angle of Brainstorm’s wings changed as he watched him, settling into an expression he wasn’t sure he’d seen before. They were low, slightly flattened out. The ailerons flared. It was something like joy, but softer. His field gave the emotion a name as it bridged the space between them and touched Perceptor’s. Adoration.

Drawing forward, Perceptor closed the distance between them. Brainstorm leaned his weight back on his hands and fidgeted his fingers along the edge of the desk, still wrestling with that hidden uncertainty. Perceptor reached down to Brainstorm’s desk to cover one of his hands with his own. The gesture coaxed his partner into opening up a little, drifting toward him until their faces were close.

“Then do I have permission to begin now?” Perceptor asked, smiling unwavering.

Brainstorm’s optics dimmed, posture loosening almost precariously. “Don’t let this get to your head or anything,” He managed to keep his words hemmed into his usual smugness. “But you had permission ages ago.”

Perceptor reached up to Brainstorm’s chin and petted his thumb along the bottom edge of his blast mask in a silent question. Brainstorm only belatedly seemed to realize what that question was as his optics hooded dreamily. He jolted as he understood and mentally deactivated the clips keeping his mask in place. Perceptor carefully pulled it away with his free hand, the other remaining on his jaw and stroking the bottom edge of it fondly. He took a second to appreciate the jet’s captivated expression, blush coloring the high points of his face plates. This silly, brilliant, energetic burst of a mech… and he was, unfortunately, completely smitten with him. His field bloomed with fondness as he leaned in to kiss him.

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rank the dragon age companions by how likely they are to fuck a transformer and which one. you pick the game.

oh my god. this is so powerful.

you KNOW I have to go with DA2. Starting from least likely to most:

#9 Sebastian: His body is for the Maker only 🙏

#8 Carver: He won't let himself be open-minded enough, for one thing. And I don't think he'd get off on multi-million year old war criminals. I don't think he would fuck Armada Starscream, but I think he should fuck Armada Starscream so they can work out their inferiority complexes together.

#7 Fenris: He's so bitter and intolerant I can't imagine him getting this close to a robot but given the opportunity... IDW Drift.

#6 Aveline: I mean, I feel like she'd shoot the idea down initially, but if she were properly wooed, she could definitely get down with a good robot fuck. She likes 'em boring and honorable. Definitely IDW Ultra Magnus.

#5 Bethany: She's tenderhearted and open-minded. She would definitely fuck a Cybertronian if they showed her some kindness and understanding in turn. Also, mages aren't shy about xeno in my humble opinion. TFP Arcee. -nods sagely-

#4 Varric: He's down. It would make a good story. Like how can he even top a story like this. TFP Predaking for pure virtue of the fact that he's both a robot and a dragon and that makes the story even better.

#3 Anders: He's a tortured soul but he's got his kinks so I'm gonna say TFP Soundwave.

#2 Isabela: Naturally. Why wouldn't you fuck a Cybertronian if you were given the chance? Like, just to say you did? Right? Someone high profile, too. But still sweet. She would be the one to land IDW Optimus Prime.

#1 Merrill: This freak would fuck Unicron himself.

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ive never done an incorrect quote meme before did i do it right

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Hey would you like some Brainstorm/Misfire rarepair crack fic with a gun that shoots orgasms? You can read the full fic on ao3

-

Brainstorm didn’t find himself in his workshop as much as he used to now that he’d partnered with Perceptor in the lab. When he did find himself here, it was usually to facilitate his after-hours tinkering on one of the various commissions he received. Lab resources were only supposed to be used at the behest of the commanding officers, or for things that would benefit the whole ship—well, at least stuff he could claim was for the benefit of the whole ship. But, as a brilliant mech with a reputation such as his, he was also host to a great number of requests from the crew; body modifications; unique weapons—imagination was the only upper limit. Occasionally, thanks to some historically ill-advised decisions on his part, he was subject to the occasional inspection to ensure he wasn’t doing anything entirely inadvisable in here—the ship had pretty well sailed in terms of good faith over his secret projects. But generally speaking, most of what he did in his workshop was relatively private.

So, engrossed as he was with soldering a chip into a facet in his newest micro-displacement mod, he ended up giving a startled jump when a fist started pounding on the workshop door. His hand jittered and he dropped the tiny chip somewhere on his workbench, where it bounced under the myriad of stacked datapads and partially disassembled projects. Dammit.

The knocking came again. The door to the workshop was closed and locked , which he figured was a pretty universal sign for “not seeing visitors.” Obviously, whoever was doing the knocking wasn’t big into reading signs. He ran through a matrix of possibilities as he set his soldering iron aside. Perceptor with something urgent in the lab? Not likely with it being after hours. Ultra Magnus, come with his datapad to prod his works in progress for anything that smacked of breaking the laws of the known universe? Nah… fist wasn’t heavy enough. 

Brainstorm opened the door a sliver and looked through to see Misfire, who was grinning as he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe like he’d been expecting to be face to face with him from this precise viewing angle. Brainstorm puffed with irritation. Misfire had not been on the list of mechs he’d expected to see here.

“Sorry, busy.” He started closing the door without preamble, but Misfire slid his fingers into the gap and pushed it back open before it could fully seal closed.

Misfire awkwardly shimmied his way past the door, fighting against the motors of the automatic closing mechanism before wiggling inside. Brainstorm backed up a step. He’d worked with the Scavengers before in his bids for materials with the Decepticons, so he knew what they were like—which was to say, virtually harmless—but he still wasn’t in a hurry to welcome one of the new, relatively unknown Decepticons who had joined the crew into his workshop. Alone. Unsupervised. He jerked his wings up in offense.  “What do you th—”

“Heeeeey, Brainstorm,” Misfire said with a charming grin. His wings gave a brief, friendly jiggle. “I know, I know. You’re all like, ‘what’s this guy doing here?’ I’m not here to bother you, I’m—”

“Already failed,” Brainstorm interrupted.

“I’m here to clear the air, yanno?” Misfire pressed on. He raised his hands in an exaggerated shrug, striding further into the workshop. Brainstorm shuffled aside to keep from getting batted by one of Misfire’s wings. “I mean, not like there aren’t bots on this ship with some history .” He laughed and grabbed a vial off of a shelf and looked at it disinterestedly. “And I mean, outside the obvious, even. But I figured—I thought…I mean, do they know? ”

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THANK U SO MUCH AAAAA I'M GONNA CRY

I love your style she's so ATHLETIC looking... and the colors..... my cute bouncy gorl.... sobs

was allowed to draw this lovely gal!! hope you enjoy even tho its messy ;w; I wish I had more time to draw 

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Poll Definitely Not Created By Brainstorm because he wanted to win something