#weekly mechs

[weeklymechanismsquotes]

We can use your pyromaniacal talents

Occasion: when you're camping with friends and somebody's gotta start the camp fire

Source: Lucky Sevens, 1:07

#the mechanisms #weekly mechs #ttbt vol. 2 #tales to be told vol. 2 #queue can't erase me #only the fools use their powers for good

[themostuselesspotato]

Made a bunch of these, enjoy

Btw I don't own the original train images, all credit goes to whoever put them on Google 👍

#the mechanisms #the mechs #the bifrost incident #fuck you and fuck your train friday #I made trains!!!! Noticed that there weren't that many and I don't like repeating images in my (weekly) train Friday posts :)

[staircasecleric]

Happy you're draggin it down by the weight of your sin Sunday!

#new mechs weekly holiday thing! #hnoc #the mechanisms #the mechs #maybe this should be a saturday idk

[jewishdainix]

Literally screaming over the fact that when watching 1917 in class and the song Wayfairing Stranger started playing, I reconised it from Elysian Fields (from UDAD), because thr music was slightly similar and not from the Poor Man's Poison rendition of THE SONG ITSELF by the same name with the same lyrics.

How did I just now make the connection. FUCK

#movie: im going there to see my mother im going there no more to roam #me (pmp and mechs fan): this song is familiar for some reason #hmmmmm #uuuuuuuuuuuh #YOU FUCKER YOU LITERALLY LISTEN TO A RENDITION OF THAT ON A WEEKLY BASIS #WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU RECONISED IT FROM UDAD AND NOT PMP #ulysses dies at dawn #poor man's poison #the mechanisms #wayfairing stranger #I WANNA SYRANGLE SOMEBODY

[bykalopsia]

who else thinks taiya and mad rex should kiss

#weekly boonboomger “i watched it” post #i am a little sleep deprived #i think it's extremely funny everyone's sharing the pic of genba giving a lollipop to jou from the previews and i was like #“omg genba and ishiro are in the same car next week in the mech....” #i'm sorry i am just Not accelbrake pilled #whatsoever #it's my cross to bear

[bzedan]

Shout out to three years of the same modified planner/bullet journal system. I would have so little idea of what I’ve done/made needed to do/what I was doing if it weren’t for you.

ID: A stack of three flexible plastic cover binders in neon green, pink, and orange, sitting on top of a plastic file bin packed with files and papers. The binders are filled with paper of various colours. The cover of the top green binder is partly visible and has large cute animal stickers on it. End ID.

Probably my key adaptive? accessibility? thing is writing things down, something I never would have learned without impulse buying a Hello Kitty planner at a year-round calendar store in an outlet mall years and years ago. (Between that and now is a couple years of more Sanario planners and a run of Clever Fox planners, which helped me learn what is Not For Me in journaling)

Anyway my focus is on removing as many steps between doing it (writing it down) as possible and all aesthetics are either pre-printed, thanks to colourful pens, or added when reviewing months/weeks/a year.

Cute though, in the end.

#these plus my Flickr archive are a key part of my memory #i did spend a year+ actually laying out my weekly sheets by hand #because i need repetition to dig a memory trench #but as soon as it stopped being fun made the most obnoxiously typefaced sheets in Word and used those #anyway! I’m proud of myself #meche chatters

[askivyalexandria]

Log Entry Earth Date 29/1/2023-18/2/2023:

Hello, it has been awhile, has it not? Well, here a horrible attempt at a log of what happened over the past two weeks. I am sure there is a lot missing.

“holy shit that's a long time”

“holy fucking bingle”

“Gwen died” (there are two celebration emoji reactions to this message)

“anyway i have gay things to attend to yall have fun with this (saying what to put on the log) for awhile”

“uhhhhh gwen lyfra hangout??”

“Scuzz and gwen besties time”

“gal*entine's day!” “YEAH!”

“also beta and scuzz being in love /p”

Scout Captain Alice Liddell made a blog.

“Mono contracted the spflu”

“oh yeah. lyfra and val got galahad, then alice, then sigyn. they got a robot from marius.”

“val and galahad are fruity”

“it was gay time in general I think some other gay shit happened”

“marius and lyfrassir talked gayly”

“gay week on and off the blogs frfr” "I'm not elaborating"

“Alice made radio contact, got rescued, made a few friends, and has now knit a scarf.”

“Marius gay posting, cat posting, and glass onion posting.”

“Marius came out as a catboy”

“Heracles listened to TBI and has not finished it. freaked the fuck out when he heard Ashes’ voice he also has a cat bug now”

“big doggy has entered the ship”

“Cerberus has met so many people. including Alice and Cinders, who are their best friends now”

“Cerberus killed Gwen” (celebration emoji)

“Ashes big sibling momence (moments). like a lot (of) stew and speggrolls were made”

“Ashes lost a necklace that was really important to them for a few days. TS 2 brought it back to them (:”

“oh rose exists”

“For Valentine's Day Marius gave Lyfrassir armor.”

Adding to that, Marius gave Valentine’s Day presents to his love interests.

“tim mostly reblogged sooooooooo many cats” “some anons moved a bunch of her bones around”

“oh yeah tim got drunk like a week ago and scuzz put hir to bed and also ze found a cat who scuzz took care of and they (scuzz and the cat) watched bbc sherlock”

“there was the whole... marius rescue sigyn mission where tim got a bit upset at marius for a while”

“tim n marius watched mamma mia and marius was dared to spoil it”

“also marius said i love u (to Tim)”

Tag List under cut:

Tag List (Ask to be added):

@monggay @deadcaptainn @inspectorlyfra @honey-beesknees @l3monbunny @bookworm-girl2002 @toy--soldier @eternaljunkyard @delta-val @floor-archivist

#log entry #weekly log #ask the mechs #[you have no idea how tempted i was to just write “gay week” and call it a day]

[g-ghostic-basil]

I stayed up until 4:30 am playing Genshin knowing fully well I had a two hour stats class at 9 am and had to leave my house no later than 8:30 am. I regret nothing.

#spirit garden | rambles #Listen 3-5 archon quest is long and I didn't expect it to take more than 4 hours to compete #i just wanted to unlock the weekly scara fight #no I'm not over THAT cutscene #genshin spoilers #seeing scara so desperately trying to keep the gnosis #and then falling from his mech head first? #I'm physically in pain from it #Scaranation Supremacy <3 #im still not done with the quest yet because i passed out not wanting to do the quests to free the npcs to continue the quest #i will be soon though #this game never fails to amaze me #if my jaw wasn't secured to my bone structure i wouldve lost it a long time ago #I'm in love with scara's development #saving for him and skipping even my fucking wife Miko for him #I need him to complete my anemo boys and his color scheme is so fucking pretty #also his boss music #as a nd band kid it tickles my music brain just right #i got chills multiple times both becaus eof the music and scara's eng va #also the greater lord's eng voice reminds me why I'm gay #she's so pretty at her fullest #I'm so sad about what had to happen to her my wife :( #and Tignari being struck by lightning I LOST IT

[veilantares]

Dark at the End of the Tunnel

Sink into an Anglers grasp in a dream, like the undersea the Night cradles screams

Been inspired by anglerfish recently, so I'm going to try to do at few of these dark background ones back to back and see if I stumble into something new. I noticed I tend to draw characters / mechs / robots in these oneshot illustrations extremely lanky, but I wonder if I made a comic, whether I'd keep these exaggerated proportions - I'm often indecisive about how much mech vs character is in these biomechs, so I usually just don't think about it and draw what feels interesting in the moment.

This gives me a chance to lay down a meandering anecdote - many years ago as a dumb teenager, I'd stay awake every Friday evening / saturday morning till 4 am, hoping to catch my favourite developer, Digital Extremes' weekly devstream. I vividly remember during closed beta in 2012 people would introduce the game as being about futuristic space pirates zipping through corridors - the games fidelity back then was really quite different, one of the early warframes, Ember, even had her whole model redone at one point. Around 2013-2014 ish when I was most excited for these streams, I noticed the games tagline was "ninja's play free", nothing at all to do with pirates - but it was catchy, and you'd see all over in the advertising because of the parkour moves you could pull off in the game were genuinely sick.

Incidentally, both the Defiance MMO (rip) and Destiny 1 (rip) were what warframe tended to be compared to at the time, both released a little after warframes closed beta, neither of which were piratey or ninja-ey , I think probably 80% of the reason for that was that they all had both guns and abilites ... I guess they were also all live services, I don't know if they were called that back then.

Compared to Defiance and Destiny, I was puzzled at what it was about warframes identity that made the aesthetic feel "itself" - and I got my answer on one of those devstreams - the art lead at the time brought out what they called a "faction pitch bible" a one pager showing all the factions they had in the game at the time, each of them with a few lines of flavour text.

What struck me from that faction pitch was that the Tenno / warframes "cyber knight" description was nothing at all to do with pirates or ninjas, it was a third, wholly other thing, and yet by virtue of being first, it might as well have been the "true" description.

But there was another original, even more original than the "true", Warframes predecessor game, Dark Sector, was a spy thriller with biomechanical aesthetics, or perhaps a powered suit superhero series. Would this original, more original than even the initial, not be what it truly was?

I think what my takeaway was from all of these, is that first an foremost, the aesthetic is "itself" rather than any arbitrary descriptors - I enjoy this about my own pieces, that they mostly still feel like they were made by me even if I can't quite categorise them or explain myself. Perhaps I'm happy if the takeaway is "cool mech", "weird robot" or "wacky character" because maybe it's all of those things and even more!

#veilantares #digital art #my art #art #illustration #mech #mecha #biomechanical #voidpunk #character design #monstergirl #monster girl #knight #cyborg #robot girl #robotposting #mechposting #mask #not quite storytime musings but actually yes its exactly that #storytime

[in1-nutshell]

OMG can you do sparkling! buddy in MTMTE? 🥹

Sparkling Buddy is going to have some wild adventures in the near future.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the sparkling on the Lost Light with Skids, Rewind, and Ravage

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

MTMTE

The ship hit a small pod outside.

The crew brought it inside for further inspection.

To everyone’s surprise, a sparkling was inside.

There was a mad dash to get the little one straight to the med bay for inspection.

Turns out that the little one was okay.

Not too bad out of shape or malnourished

A meeting was soon held about how the sparkling would be raised and who was going to be their primary guardian.

Apparently, that got a lot of bots arguing on who the sparkling would belong to.

But not as much as what to name the sparkling.

Cue the random name generator wheel spinning over several hundred names.

The little arrow landed on ‘Buddy’.

Half of the bots believe it was Swerve who put down the name, but the name stuck around.

Everyone pitched in to help babysit the sparkling on their weekly rotations before a primary guardian could be drawn.

Skids

One of the top best babysitters on board.

Mainly for two reasons.

One was that he could keep the kiddo entertained for long periods of time.

Two he could match their speed when they got playful.

Constantly had the sparkling either in his servos or on his shoulder.

Loves to throw the sparkling up and down and hear them laugh and chirp.

Has this possibly given Magnus a stroke?

There is a possibility…

Despite what many bots tell him not to do, Skids brings Buddy into the vents with him.

His defense? He was teaching Buddy who were the crewmembers they could trust to be with.

Definitely has not lost Buddy on accident in the vents.

Nope hasn’t happened.

“Has anyone seen Skids? I have Buddy’s toy and I don’t know where he is.”--Rung

Meanwhile in the vents…

Skids pointing at Rung walking down the hallway.

“And who is that, Buddy?”--Skids

Happy chirping sounds.

“Smart one aren’t ya.”—Skids

Rewind

Rewind is going to film everything this little sparkling does.

He can’t help it!

They are so cute trying to learn about the world around them and he has a camera bolted to his helm.

Of course he is going to film it.

From the best times.

To the worst times.

Has plenty of educational films for Buddy to watch while he is babysitting them.

Rewind has them all saved on a special file.

Sometimes when movie night is going slow, he’ll sneak in a couple videos of Buddy doing some goofy activities.

It usually raises everyone’s spirits on gloomier days.

Rewind often carries Buddy in his arms or when he is feeling extra goofy, he’ll give them a ‘piggyback ride’.

He wants a sparkling but doesn’t know how to bring it up to Chromedome yet.

Maybe they will get their chance in the future.

But for now, he is happy to babysit and take videos of the sparkling.

Buddy trying to near how to walk.

Rewind filming the entire thing.

“C’mon Buddy! You almost got—DOMEY OUT OF THE WAY!—There you go! Up! Up! Up! Oooohhhh! Almost had it there, Buddy!”

Rewind picks up the fallen sparkling whole is just giggling at the little camera.

“Maybe next time.”—Rewind

Buddy pats him on the helm.

Ravage

Ravage claims that he doesn’t want anything to do with the sparkling.

He is saying this as he is cuddling said sparkling.

He has firmly stated time and time again that he does not care for them.

But his actions tell a different story.

Ravage is constantly watching over the sparkling from hidden spot throughout the ship, especially with bots he doesn’t really trust yet.

Which is most of the crew.

Has let the sparkling ride on his back while sprinting down the halls.

Buddy crawling around the hallways unattended.

Ravage walking towards Buddy before gently grabbing them like a kitten.

He continues to walk until he reaches Megatron’s empty habsuite and puts Buddy down on the berth.

“I swear… these mechs will look away for a second and BAM! Your already halfway across the ship.”--Ravage

Buddy just starts playing with their servo.

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte x platonic reader #mtmte skids #mtmte rewind #mtmte ravage

[weeklymechanismsquotes]

Everything starts to make sense - not much sense [...]

Occasion: when you're trying to make sense of a terrible take and you reach a point of 'I understand how you got here given that premise, but how did you arrive at that batshit premise?!'

Source: Cold Case, 1:20

#the mechanisms #weekly mechs #aatvst #all aboard the viking space train! #queue can't erase me #only the fools use their powers for good

[heartthrobin]

paint my sunset peach (1)

mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader

wc: 6.71k

warnings: reader is a little bit of a meanie, dirty sweaty eddie, hella pining, sunshine!eddie + grumpy!reader, swearing but otherwise pretty wholesome, limited use of y/n

an: i started writing this literally months ago and only finished it recently, super duper proud of it :))) this will be part one of a (probably) three part series. let me know if you want a tag in part 2 !!! i tried to tag all those who liked this post so thanks for the support - love you all <33

summary: the conveyer belt of mech-heads you dealt with on a weekly basis were nothing more than a side-show annoyance. but god, the auto-shop had never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

part two

Before the auto-shop, on the corner at the intersection of Lovett and Harwood, was a Chinese restaurant.

The Red Lotus.

On Friday nights as a kid, daddy would drive into town and return with a steaming white bag of fried rice and dumplings. Sometimes, when they had in stock, he'd bring a single mooncake to share between him and you.

It was family run, the Zhou's. Three sons and a daughter.

They closed down right after you graduated, tired of the middle of nowhere-ness. The tractors rumbling loudly through town at six o' clock every morning, the shaky cell reception and the incessant knock of evening frogs on the porch.

Tired of butt-fuck nowhere Tennessee.

It stood empty for two years. Sometimes you'd pass it in your truck and remember them, other times you wouldn't even look.

But now, now it stood as a brand new garage. Or at least the tiny town's excuse for "brand new".

Daddy's friend, Mister Carl Abernathy, owned it.

He was a short stocky man, bald all over and you'd never seen him without a cold bottle of cider and the remnants of it’s sweat staining down his creased button-up.

You knew that only because he was always around: lots of things on the farm needed fixing up.

Weeds crept up into the tires of the tractors, age beat at the truck you used to move in and out of town - crates of peaches bouncing jovially over each bump.

Every time they needed a looking at, Carl would send over the bonehead of the week.

The same white pull-up would brake loudly outside the farmhouse door, always somewhere around nine: just in time to disturb your breakfast, and one of his latest recruits would hop out.

They’d lean haughtily against the large wheel of the dying blue tractor.

"Well, looks like we've got a problem on our hands here, hey little missy?"

They weren’t even worth the effort it took to roll your eyes. No shit.

The farm didn't make nearly enough from the weekend markets in bigger nearby towns, or the pennies of the townsfolk to afford new vehicles. So, you stuck it out with each caveman Carl sent your way.

And you were fine with it.

Mostly fine with it.

Sure, some of them were vulgar: they'd whistle at you or comment on your ass when you passed them working. Others could only succeed at making the vehicle worse than when they'd started, but it was your job to sort them out.

Could you have gone off with your high school friends to college? Sure.

Maybe.

But that’d leave Daddy all alone in that big house. You pushed away the thought when it surfaced to bug you.

Your mother had disappeared long before you knew her, exhausted - like the Zhou's - of being nowhere.

Maybe of being no one. Perhaps of being a no one peach farmer with the grump that was your daddy and a toddler zooming at her feet.

Either way, it didn't matter.

She had left and you remained to do the job, and that job included dealing with Carl’s mechanics.

At least it hadn't mattered, not until some morning in late summer.

The sun watched from high over the green farmhouse. It glared down, peeking over the edge of the porch.

You were fixed on the bird pecking at the already deteriorating grey window pane above the sink, overlooking the rows of colourful fields.

"You're messing, Cherry."

Cherry. Daddy had been calling you that since as far back as you could remember him talking.

You glanced at him across the table, where the spread of bread, eggs and jam had been lain, before you noticed where a long stripe of strawberry jam had run down the front of your black tank top.

"Listen now, you're gonna be fine with the tractor today?"

His voice was stern - probably too stern for such an hour of the morning, but you hardly noticed - swiping at the jam with your finger and nodding.

"No problems, alright?"

Daddy usually worked the tractor, but he was going to some meeting two towns over. He hadn't mentioned what about, but you were sure it had to do with the crippling financial state of the farm.

You nodded.

It's how you found yourself alone out in the heat of the midday sun.

The tractor rumbled beneath you, joggling over every rock and mole hill.

Every couple meters, you'd stop: climb off and pick at the peaches before tossing them into the crate. When enough crates were full, you'd load them onto the truck and move again.

You'd been at it, burning over your arms and shoulders, for what couldn’t have been more than a few hours when the tractor gave a sickening jolt.

Gripping the wheel and watching in horror over the edge of your sunglasses, your eyes followed the thick cloud of grey smoke where it began seeping out at the edges of the hood and disappearing up into the sky.

"No, no, no ..." you drew up the handbrake and leapt out the side onto the soil. The blue metal scalded the tips of your fingers where you threw the bonnet open before swallowing down mouthfuls of hot smoke.

It took five minutes of coughing against the side of the vehicle, another five kicking at the left wheel and at least another ten swearing at the sky before you dug your phone out from between the seats and dialled the number to Carl's auto shop.

It rung three times before his gruff voice carried across the line, "Abernathy Auto Repairs speakin', hello?"

"Good morning Mr Abernathy," your fingers pressed into the sides of your temple, working fruitlessly against the headache forming there. "I'm calling from the farm down Jasmine road—"

"Oh hey there, darlin'. What can I do you for?"

A squirrel rustled somewhere down the row of bushes. "Well, I'm out in the field now and the tractor has ... uh, given up on me. The ‘63. Need one of your men to come give it a start, or a look-over or—"

"Not a problem, not a problem at all. Are you far out? Whereabouts are you?"

You cupped a hand to shield up over your eyes, glancing back from whence you'd came. The house was but a speck of green in the distance.

"About two or three miles north west of the house?"

You could practically hear him nodding, a steady gulp audible against the line.

"Don't you worry about a thing, little darlin', I'll have one of my boys out there within the hour. Just hang tight."

"Alright, thank you kindly sir—"

But the line was already dead.

You glared at the phone.

Huffing loudly, you pulled yourself back up onto the truck - allowing the soft shade to gently graze over your face as you sunk back into the seat.

The warm wind rippled over the tops of the rows of greenery and you watched quietly, the irritation simmering to a low boil in your chest.

There was a quiet tranquility in being so far out from the house, shielded from the scorch.

Your boot tapped rhythmically against the console. Warm breeze brushed over your face again and you sighed, tilting your hat lower over your forehead. The lull of the quiet field allowed your lashes to fan closed over your cheeks. Before you’d taken note of the bird coming to perch on the roof, you were already asleep.

It was the loud rumble of an engine and the throbbing pain in your neck that brought you back to the world of the conscious.

You woke with a jump. Heart thumping against your ribcage in instant confusion. Your hat flew off your head and over the edge of your seat from where it had been blocking the light over your eyes.

Bringing a hand to your neck you whined loudly, the angle you’d been perched at doing nothing for the long term preservation of your muscles there.

You turned anyways, noticing the white pick-up quickly nearing from the direction of the house.

Frowning, you glanced down at time against the console. Three fifty-eight.

"Shit!"

You stuck your head out from under the shade of the tractor top to notice how low the sun has sunk in the sky. It was almost reaching the head of the hill in the distance.

The mechanic shouldn't have taken longer than an hour to find you, and subsequently, wake you. You quickly diffused yourself of blame.

Daddy was going to kill you.

Clambering off the side of the tractor, your hands found your hips before the car pulled to a wailing halt barely a few centimetres off from your knees.

Dust swept up around the truck, obscuring the view of the man that stepped out of it.

"Woah. Almost hit you there, doll."

Warm wind cleared the air and the figure of a young man stood in your field.

The words sitting on your tongue begging to be spat out were sucked straight back down your throat.

For a moment you forgot what you had planned to say at all.

The man's eyebrow cocked at you under strands of dark, curly hair falling carelessly from the skew bun atop his head.

Behind you, a crow cried in the distance. Your senses quickly returned to you.

Your fists tightened at your sides. "Where on god's green earth have you been?"

He looked taken aback.

"Well, I had some trouble finding the house," he smiled sheepishly, motioning to the farmhouse over his shoulder, "and then I had to phone Carl cause he didn't really tell me where—"

"So you're new then? Carl sent a greenie to come fix my tractor?"

Anyone who'd spent more than three days in town knew the farm down Jasmine road. Knew your farm.

A heavily ringed hand came up to his jaw, rubbing there and eyeing you in a way that made the hair on your arms stands straight up.

It was painfully unfair how handsome he was.

"New to town. Not new to fixing tractors." His voice was smooth, the curl of a grin peaking at you from the edge of his mouth.

Sucking in a deep breath - a feeble attempt at composure - you nodded once.

"Well, I've got a tractor and it's broken. And you're two hours late, so if you don't mind, I've got a job to do."

You turned violently on your heel, sure if you stood under his gaze any longer that you'd melt right against the soil.

The sound of the peaches tumbling out the crate onto the tractor split the air between you and him, and soon you were marching away from his figure - crate in hand - in pursuit of fruit further down the lane.

"I'm Eddie!"

You waved vaguely over your shoulder, electing not to bless him with an answer.

Carl was going to hear an earful from your father, you were sure of it. You plucked angrily at the fruits off the bush, tossing them a little too violently in with the rest.

It was quiet from the distance behind you, but you refused to turn to look.

Sure, you shouldn't be so surprised that one of Carl's idiots was nearly two hours late and got lost in a town that really only has two roads, but god, he'd never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

The walk was long, each stop causing the crate to become heavier, and you worked hard to put the image of the mechanic’s black shirt - that he'd obviously cut the sleeves off himself - and how it clung to his chest with sweat out of your mind.

You didn't stop until a voice called from behind. At first it was soft, but it grew louder within a minute: as was the sound of footfalls.

"Hey, miss!"

He was jogging towards you, pieces of hair falling recklessly out from the grips of his hair tie to frame his red face.

Eddie only stopped when barely a few feet separated you.

"All done." He grinned, huffing around his smile. "She just overheated a bit, needed some water and a a couple valves disconnected."

You couldn't tell whether it was harder to hold his gaze or work to keep yours off of his chest.

"Right. Good." You nodded, leaning to lift the crate at your feet. "Then I'll be getting back to it."

It was heavy, almost too heavy if you hadn't lifted boxes like those from sunrise to sunset for the last eighteen or so years.

But the mechanic was clearly unconvinced, he swooped in closer to you. "Let me get that—"

"I'm fine—"

"No really." By now he was way too close, close enough that you could smell the undertones of a shower gel or maybe a cologne.

His voice softened, "Please. To make up for my tardiness."

It was hard to tell whether it was the sun making you so dizzy or his proximity, but either way, it forced you to nod slowly. "Fine."

Eddie took the crate from your hands, you ignored the rush of heat to your stomach as he grunted against the weight.

"Strong thing aren't you, doll?"

You didn't respond, eyes fixed on the giant blue tractor a couple meters from where you stood.

Silence rung, only the footfalls filling the space. You'd almost made it all the way back to the tractor without conversation before the mechanic decided to open his mouth again.

"I don't think I caught your name earlier."

You met his eyes, regretting it almost immediately when your knees threatened to buckle, "That's because I never gave it."

Stepping just close enough to take the crate from his grip, but avoid the drift of his cologne again, your hands brushed closely against his.

They were cool against your sweaty ones.

He was grinning again.

You stepped back, balancing the peaches against your hip before tilting it over the box attached to the end of the tractor allowing the round pink pieces to clatter down into its depths.

"Right. Well, what's your name then doll?"

But you were already clambering back up the side of the tractor into the worn leather seat.

"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy."

He was leaning against the side of the truck now, you avoided looking down at him, something told you that you'd find those eyes blinking right up into your soul again if you did.

"So you think I'm pretty?"

Hot red blush chased up the sides of your neck over your ears, you prayed it wasn't discernible under the pink sunburn.

The keys jingled loudly as you slid them into the ignition and turned them violently. The vehicle jerked to life.

"I think your job is done. Good afternoon sir."

Before he could say another word, your foot had sunk down on the accelerator and the tractor was rumbling back down between the bushes again.

In your peripheral vision you watched how the mechanic stumbled back against his pick-up, narrowly avoiding catching his foot under one of the hundred pound tires, and the sound of an echoing chuckle fading as you plodded away.

-

The drive back to the auto-garage was quick. At least quicker than the drive Eddie had taken to find the farm.

His hands tightened around the wheel, twisting over the leather as he pulled to a park in the open spot across the street.

A ring of brown soil stared up at him from where he'd pulled at the handbrake with dusty paws.

"Shit ..." he wiped his hands down the jean over his thighs.

Eddie was used to the oil and the reek of grease, as if that wasn't already enough, but not the itch of farm soil up his nostrils and behind his ears.

He twisted the metal ring around his finger, a small grin playing at his lips.

But the soil wasn't so bad, he reckons he'd swim through a pool of it it to get another chance to watch the hot-tempered farm girl's hips sway when she marched away from him, just as you'd done earlier that afternoon.

The smile didn't leave his face as he climbed out the car, locked it and crossed the street whistling.

Eddie was almost completely used to the whir of the drills echoing off the walls and barely registered the creak of the lever that was raising a car near the back of the shop.

Carl was leaning over the reception desk clinking the bottom of his cider bottle against the wood and puffing on the end of a cigarette.

He waved vaguely down at the open ledger when he noticed Eddie nearing, "See here, extra two hundred dollars on a cheap fucking knock off for that AMC Eagle. You believe that, Munson?"

"Hardly, boss."

Eddie was halfway back to where he'd abandoned the engine on a red convertible before weaving across town to find a farm when the boss' voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hold it, hold it. Where’ve you been? Didn't I send you outta here three hours ago?" He swivelled on the bar stool against the counter to face him.

The greasy palm that had been picking it's way under car hoods all afternoon reached up to rub against the side of his neck. "I couldn't find that fucking farm, did three circles ‘round the post office before I saw the sign for Jasmine road."

Carl surveyed him with a crooked brow. "They didn't teach you to read maps down in Indiana, boy?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He was about to turn back on his way, when the picture of your face glimmered at him behind his eyes, "Listen boss, the girl there. The daughter you said, what's her name?"

By then, Carl had already turned back down to the accounts. "What's it to ya?"

Silence rung long enough that Carl peeked back up at Eddie over the rim of his glasses.

Eddie shrugged bashfully. "Pretty thing."

Carl threw his head back, laughing loudly - Eddie always thought his laugh sounded like a dog barking.

"I've seen that look." He shook his head, lifting to perch his glasses on his shining bald head. "Too many of you boys come back from that farm starry-eyed. No hope with that princess, she don't like you mech-heads. Nope, not one bit."

"Ah, come on, don't you believe in love at first sight?"

Carl let off another crumbly chuckle, "Bit your head off, didn't she?"

"Sure did." He beamed like the cat that caught the canary, "Love it when a lady talks to me sweet."

A sweaty hand shrugged him off.

"Get back to work, Munson."

But Eddie wavered. "Just a name, boss."

Carl stared at him for a couple moments, clearly bored. It took a long slug of the yellow cider and a hard sigh before he spoke again: "Y/n."

The grin crept back up his cheeks. He tested the name on his tongue, finding it to taste as sweet as he knew it would.

"Appreciate it."

"Get back to that convertible before I fire you."

-

Eddie the mechanic had been firmly put out of your mind following the ruckus out in the field.

Sure, his puppy dog face had returned to you later that night as you lay in bed, but that hardly counted.

You'd forgone mentioning his tardiness to Daddy, electing to take the mild scolding instead.

By the time the end of the week had arrived, you'd just about completely forgotten the floppy haired man that had once graced the farm.

That was until Daddy rose the topic of the auto-body shop again.

He handed you the wet plate, you took it carefully - starting to wipe it down. The water sloshed beneath his hands, scrubbing hard at the soapy pan.

Bullseye watched up at you from where she was curled up on the kitchen chair, purring loudly. Outside the sky was turning deep lilac and the crickets were clicking loudly.

"Tomorrow on your way back from Madeline's, I want you to stop by Carl's."

Madeline's was the local - and only - grocer. You dropped five cases there every Tuesday.

Your hand stilled against the plate, "For?"

"I want you to ask him to spare a man, a good one. Just a couple afternoons a week to do some work."

Your father handed the next plate over carefully.

Confusion tugged at your brow, "Work? What work?"

"You're too curious for your own good, y'know that?"

Bumping your shoulder against his, the pot lid almost slipping from his wet fingers, you laughed. "Don't be difficult, what for?"

The old man sighed.

Some nights, with the evening hue seeping in through the window against his face like it was just then, you were reminded of how old he really was.

"I want to fix up the Cobra."

In the barn around the back of the house, sitting untouched and unmoved for almost twenty years, lived a 1965 AC Cobra.

The steel lid slipped from your hands, clattering against the floor. Your father jumped.

"You're fixing the Cobra!" You grabbed him by the arm, eyes wide in delight. "Is it for me?"

He offered a half-hearted stern look at you, leaning to pick up the lid before straightening out.

"Don't get too excited, she's a real piece of work and we don't know if she can even still be revived."

You tugged at the edge of his shirt, "But ... it's for me, right?"

"Well, your twenty-first is coming up and I thought you're old enough now—"

Just about strangling him, your arms flew up over his neck.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you—!"

He sighed over your shoulder, patting your back with a wet hand. “Alright, alright. Just speak to Carl.”

-

Your drop-off at Madeline's had never gone faster.

Town was busy, as busy as it got on a Tuesday morning, and Abernathy's was no different.

You pulled into a spot down the line of other nearly identical pick-ups to your own in front of the shop.

At the front desk, where you were sure he'd grown roots into the stool behind it, sat Carl Abernathy.

When he looked up from a piece he'd been tinkering with, surprise twisted at his features.

"G'morning darlin'," he set the piece down, puffing around a lit cigarette, "What can I do you for on this fine morning?"

"Good morning sir," you set your hat on the counter, leaning beside it. "My daddy sent me, he's asking if you could spare a man for some work 'round by ours. Couple nights a week."

The little man's eyes screwed at you.

"What, may I ask, will he be expected to do?"

By then you couldn't stifle the grin any longer.

"He's gonna be fixing the Cobra."

The response seemed to delight the man as much as it did yourself, because he laughed loudly and slammed a hand down against the wooden desk.

"Your old man finally found some sense, hey?" He jeered, "I'm mighty pleased to here that, little miss, I really am."

You smiled, "It's my birthday gift. Twenty-first coming up."

"Twenty-one, hey? Well, I've got just the boy. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

Carl leaned dangerously back on the stool, you fleetingly wondered how he didn't topple over, before yelling over his shoulder into the depths of the shop.

"Munson! Get your up-to-no-good-ass over here!"

Not to say that you'd completely forgotten him, but you were still more than a little taken aback when the tall framed mechanic from a few days before emerged from under the hood of a pick-up.

"Boss—?" His eyes found you. They lit up like main street over Christmas. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise. Morning, doll."

Grease covered every inch of his arms up to his elbows which held the scrunched up ends to the black long sleeve he was wearing. He was dirtier than last you saw him and it made your stomach swoop dangerously.

"Him?" It slipped out before you had time to catch it.

But Carl didn't comment on your rudeness, instead he slapped a heavy hand over Eddie's shoulder and shook it.

"For sixty's models, this is your boy for the Cobra." The older man beamed at him, like he was telling you his son was a heart surgeon. "Hands like a magician I tell you."

The comment sent a icy chill down the back of your spine, it wasn't helped when the mechanic snapped a wink at you from under his boss' hand.

"R-Right, well, you can come by as soon as you want to start working. A couple hours a day, my daddy will pay you."

With his hair clipped back, you could make a clearer assessment of his face as he nodded to you. He had thick lips and a strong-set nose.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, doll."

The cheekiness in his grin was plucking at a nerve behind your eyebrow. "Think you'll be able to find your way this time?"

"I think I'll be fine." His hands sunk into the depths of his jean pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Left at the butchery and right down the road to my heart."

You scoffed, turning back to Carl. "Thanks Mr Abernathy. I'll let my old man know."

Not even sparing Eddie another glance, you grabbed your hat off the counter and turned on your heel back to the car.

He watched your hair sway under the press of the brown hat and where your wide shoulders glistened in the light beneath the straps of your overalls.

Only when the sound of your engine had disappeared down the street, did he turn back to Carl who was digging the end of a screwdriver into a metal plate.

"You're really an old romantic aren't you, boss."

Carl grumbled, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Eddie shook his head, chuckling delightedly, "Psh, "sixty's models"! As if Jacob couldn't get that Cobra running in a couple days."

Pulling another cider noisily out from the cooler he kept at his feet, Carl guffawed. "I sure hope it's gonna take you more than a few days, lover boy, cause that little miss doesn't seem too fond 'a you I can tell you now."

But Eddie wasn't fazed, "Don't worry, she will be."

-

Sure as the sun rose in the sky, two o' clock rolled around the next afternoon and a noisy white pick-up pulled into park in front of the green farmhouse.

"Cherry! The mech's here!"

You'd grumbled, reluctantly pulling yourself out from where you'd been perched under the cool shade of the back porch repainting worn pots.

Eddie was standing lost in the driveway when you found him.

He was dirty, obviously just from the shop, and you offered something short of a warm welcome, but he seemed unfazed.

"Car's in the barn 'round the back of the house."

"Well good afternoon to you too, miss." You wondered if his smirk had been permanently stitched there.

The toolbox rattled with each step he took after your pacing figure.

As promised, the barn stood nearly as tall as the house in a faded orange hue.

It was dark inside and the door creaked loudly where you'd swung it open.

There she sat in all her glory. The 1965 AC Cobra, in a fitting cherry red.

Eddie whistled lowly over your shoulder behind you.

"A damn shame hiding this beaut up in this dusty barn." He passed you, running his hand over the bonnet that glimmered even in the low light.

We can agree on one thing at least, you thought.

"I've got to go finish up," you motioned over your shoulder, "but, uh, if you need anything I'll be around. Just shout."

You'd already caught the edge of the door, halfway out, when his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"And what is it exactly that I should I shout, doll? Seeing as you still haven't told me your name."

You surmised him, considering only momentarily letting your name spill off your lips.

Hm. Not today.

"Doll works just fine, greenie."

Finishing off the pots was easy, quick. They stood lined up against the bannister drying while you busied yourself in the vegetable patch behind the house: twisting carrots and beetroots out from the dark soil as the sun sunk slowly lower in the sky.

The time had hardly occurred to you when the back door swung open, your father sticking his one foot down the step.

Keys to the pick-up dangled in his hand.

"Cherry, I'm running to Madeline's for some wood glue and another bag of nails. Need anything?"

Swiping an itch on your forehead with the back of your hand, wiping a long black stripe there, you shook your head. "Nothing."

"Right," he nodded and the door was already halfway shut when he tossed it open again. "Oh, and go make that boy a bite to eat. Damn skinny thing's been in that hot barn for hours now."

You sagged your shoulders childishly, voice coming out as a whine. "Must I really?"

"Yes, you must really."

And he was gone.

The fridge was a ghost town, spare for the never-ending supply of fruit and vegetable that lived in the bottom drawer.

Following five minutes of pursing your lips and staring into its depths, you conjured up a lettuce, cucumber tomato and sweet-chilli sandwich. It didn't take long to convince yourself into making another to satiate your own complaining stomach.

You hummed as you worked, pouring cool lemonade into two glasses, packing the food back into the fridge and rinsing off the butter knife.

The tall clock chimed jovially from the hallway when you shuffled out the back, two plates and two glasses in hand.

Your hip nudged open at the barn door and a wave of sweltering heat rushed over your face and between every tendril of hair on your head.

Blinking foggily into the dim sauna that was the barn, you were met with the only slightly browned back of one Eddie Munson.

The man was hunched over, head lost in the depths of the car's stomach and when he straightened out you just about swallowed your tongue.

His long black mane was in a messy ponytail at the base of his neck and his shirt had been abandoned somewhere by the right tire. Sweat was sliding down the side of his face like an open faucet.

"Hey," he smiled when he met your eyes, voice groggy and tired. The sound made the plates wobble under your grip.

"Hi—" you cringed internally, it was the most pleasant greeting you'd offered him so far. Why had it come out so ... awkward?

You motioned down to the plates, as if his eyes hadn't already found them. "I made you a sandwich ... didn't know if you were hungry or—"

The wrench flew from his grip down into the box where he tossed it and Eddie sighed. "Starving."

You handed him the plate, watching how his blackened fingers stained the edge of the plate and the rim of the glass.

He sat carefully down against an empty crate that had been abandoned by the wall, resting the glass by his feet and wiping his hands down the length of his thighs.

"Hot as hell in here." The mechanic mumbled before diving into the sandwich.

Letting his head fall back against his shoulders, he moaned loudly.

"This is fucking delicious." He commented around the mouthful.

You worked hard to swat away the blush reaching at your cheeks by nodding quickly. That sound would probably ring in your head all night.

"I should go—"

"You're not gonna eat here? I don't mind ..." Eddie eyed the sandwich you'd made for yourself in your hand, gaze flickering between the plate and your face.

Your mouth curled around a response, but you were beat to the chase.

"I know you probably mind," he interjected quickly, "but if you w-want company, I mean, you could eat here ..."

Pursing your lips, you surveyed him: long gangly legs spilling in every direction and rings clinking against the glass.

Would it really kill you to sit five minutes with him?

"No need to turn red, greenie." You resigned, kicking over another crate near the grate of the car before leaning down to perch against it. "I don't mind."

It was quiet for the first couple minutes. You focused on your sandwich, feeling his gaze flicker up to you every few minutes.

He'd practically inhaled the first half of the sandwich, but you noticed he was eating the second half slowly.

"So," he swallowed down a gulp of lemonade. "What were you busy with now before I forced you into sitting here with me?"

You picked at a cucumber that had fallen loose from your sandwich, teasing at the outer skin with your teeth.

"Very important work." Your lip curled at the corners, it seemed he noticed. "Fate of the farm depended on it. Guess now it'll have to crash and burn ..."

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

His amused look matched yours.

"Pulling carrots out the patch."

He leaned back, eyes widening theatrically. "Sounds exhilarating."

"You have no idea."

You bit into your sandwich again, finding the space suddenly more comfortable.

"Tell me," he pulled off a piece of tomato hanging dangerously off the edge of the sandwich, "How does a car this beautiful find it's way onto a farm in the middle of nowhere?"

Your chest pinched at the question.

"Y'know, just ..." you motioned vaguely towards the roof, "Aliens."

He caught how your gaze flickered from his to a loose bolt near your foot.

Okay, sensitive spot.

The bread was soft between Eddie's fingers, he set it down.

"I thought I saw some funny lights in the sky last night."

It was becoming almost impossible to keep his eyes off you, even for a couple seconds at a time.

You only nodded at his response, refusing to lift your gaze from the floor.

It was making his stomach churn, desperate for a couple more minutes to enjoy the view of your face.

There was a smudge of brown soil against your forehead where your hair fell over it, making his hands twitch in his lap, itching to reach out and swipe at your sun-kissed face.

"Just you and the old man then?" He pressed, reaching for his glass again.

You shrugged, "Couple creatures of the earth too. And the peaches, of course. Always the peaches."

"Peaches are good."

"Peaches are good."

"No boyfriend then?"

It slipped out of him before he had chance to catch it. He'd been dying to know since the second your figure had appeared to him beyond the cloud of dust out in the field.

You took your sweet time, examining him over the rim of your glass. He couldn't tell whether you intended to respond to him at all.

The weight of your gaze was making his head spin.

"'A course I have a boyfriend. Nights on a big farm like this get lonely without someone to warm the other side of the bed. Y'know?"

Eddie's heart sunk into his stomach.

The sandwich had suddenly lost it's appeal. He set the last couple bites by his feet. He nodded slowly.

"... Can imagine."

Blood was rushing past his ears loudly, he could feel it pooling around his cheeks: warming his face with embarrassment.

"He's actually around if you want to meet him?"

"Uh—" Eddie couldn't even formulate a half of a response before your head was thrown back over your right shoulder:

"Cowboy! Baby!"

Cowboy?

There was a thick confused silence where he wasn't entirely sure who or even if anyone would march through the door - he mostly hoped that you'd been lying and nobody was coming at all.

"Baby!" You called again.

Then he heard it.

The fall of footsteps. Someone was running towards the barn and getting quickly closer.

From out of the sunshine, bounding through the door, Eddie made out the shape of the largest dog he'd ever seen.

Four long gangly legs carried him across the small space, tongue swinging over the side of his jaw: he'd appeared so quickly that Eddie didn't have a moment to prepare before the hound leapt excitedly into his lap.

"Hey, boy—!"

He toppled back over the crate and the dog licked hungrily at the sauce around the edges of his mouth, he nudged Eddie's face with his giant snout before spotting the last few bites of the sandwich left abandoned and scooped it up in one long lick.

The distraction of the food offered Eddie the opportunity to sit straight up again, he could feel the hay tangling into the depths of his hair - but the thought dissolved when he picked up the sound you were making.

You were laughing.

The sound was making him drunk, he was sure of it.

It was made worse when he looked at you: head tilted to the side, leaning at the wall and calling the dog breathlessly between giggles.

Eddie could feel the tiny birds flying in circles over his head and his pupils turning to hearts.

"Cowboy, leave the man's food!"

But the sandwich was long gone and the dog had apparently lost interest in sniffing at the empty plate, returning to licking wet stripes up the side of Eddie's face.

"Sorry, he's just a pup." Your face had softened, giggles bubbling down to a sigh. "Hasn't grown into all his manners yet."

"A pup?" Eddie mumbled in disbelief, catching Cowboy behind his ears with a tickle.

Like a magic button, the dog collapsed into a puddle by his feet: panting loudly.

"Kinda looks like your boyfriend likes me more than you."

You leaned against your knees, head shaking. "I'm feeling a little betrayed that he hasn't even looked in my direction yet."

"It's my natural charm, what can I say. Attracts animals of all species."

Scoffing loudly, you shook your head. "Keep the traitor then. We'll see how long he lasts without me feeding him spoonfuls of peanut butter under the table."

Eddie briefly wondered how big of table existed in the kitchen beyond the window of the farmhouse to fit the monstrous animal at his feet.

"Aw, then who would keep you warm on cold farm nights ..." he flashed a toothy smile, "Winter is just around the corner after all."

"Well, in that case," you tilted your head back in false concentration, lifting your hand to count on your fingers: "There's Bullseye, the cat ... Rodeo, the other cat. A couple stray dogs sometimes walk in off the fields, maybe we could adopt a goat?"

Cowboy was watching you with his head in Eddie's lap, Eddie tilted his head innocently to the side. "No one else?"

"Nope ... none that come to mind."

You were smiling at him now, mischief curled into the edges of your mouth.

It was turning his insides to a molten pool of goo.

"Is that a smile I see?" He tried his luck. "Did I make you smile? Is a comet about to hit the state of Tennessee?"

You turned your head quickly, working to wipe the expression off your face, but not entirely succeeding.

Instead you stood up.

"Whatever, greenie." Leaning down to pick up your plate, Eddie was briefly exposed to the view down the front of your dungarees. He blushed again. "Don't you have work to do?"

Crossing the space quickly, you grabbed his plate from beneath one of Cowboy's pot-sized paws before clicking your tongue at the dog.

He clambered back onto his feet like a new-born deer, clearly still not entirely sure what to do with so much leg.

"I'll see you later then, doll?"

But you didn't turn back, disappearing into the light of the sun with Cowboy trotting at your heels.

"Maybe in your dreams tonight, pretty boy."

-

tags: 

@jokersgrf @anicosa-ironlung @sleepy-bunnie @pricelessemotion @sweetgladiatorfesival @eggo-segual​ @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @introvertedmouse @ctrlaltdel3te @multifandom-l0ver @inarinine @sillysteveharharhar @buckystwilight @hey-lucille 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au

[loveofbots]

Gently lays down. I want to tell Swerve that I like listening to him talk and that I genuinely love having him around and that he deserves to be listened to more- you don't have to do a write or headcanons if you don't feel it I just want Swerve to know he's loved and the world needs to HEAR IT

Anon listen you’re so right here have some headcanons as a treat

Based on me n a couple of buddies going over what makes a cybertronian physically attractive/cybertronian beauty standards (which I will go into another time) Swerve is actually pretty hot! However it's canon that a mech will prefer someone's personality over their looks, and that's why Swerve gets no bitches

If Swerve ever found out how big of a fanbase he has online, he would explode, reform, and then explode again. Not only does he have an autistic fascination with humans, he would be THRILLED to know we have an autistic fascination with him.

He knows undertale exists, and yes sans is his favorite character.

I really think he's smart. That bitch must have a LOT of memory to contain all of human media plus cybertronian knowledge plus bartending knowledge PLUS his old degree (he's educated!!) And I think this is why he and Skids and Nautica get along. They are all fucking nerds

I'd love to start a podcast with him. Like a weekly Lost Light podcast with a catchy af name. Just talking about whatever went down the last few days, he does little advertisements for his bar, reader gets to bring up new human concepts to him/learn cybertronian concepts n stuff. Just overall good cheerful fun.

Swerve is nonbinary, or at least doesn't abide by a binary in general. Gender is a human concept and for cybertronians it just doesn't make much sense. If you were LGBT+ on the lost light he'd be your number one supporter. That's all for now! I love me some Swerve boi

#transformers #mtmte #maccadam #tf #idw #lost light #swerve #headcanons #swerve x reader

[mychlapci]

bit of a set of weirder headcanons but i think the autobots are fucking freaks when it comes to sex. like the cons are all rough and tough with each other but kinky interfacing comes with a level of trust in your partner that only the autobots have with each other

i feel like public interfacing is relatively accepted among autobots. you go to get your morning fuel in the canteen and sunstreaker has bluestreak pinned against the bulkhead. average fucking tuesday. oh the medibay is having a slow day with few patients, ratchet has first aid warming his spike as he's going through datapads, keeping one servo firmly wrapped around aid's waist as he squirms helplessly. command meetings have like, a 50% chance to get derailed by prowl's chestplate accidentally popping open to reveal his fat tits and jazz just starts sucking on them and then ironhide smacks optimus' panels and oh god there's an orgy now

kink nights just being a common thing among the autobots. mechs can sign up to do scenes with certain partners or just sit on the sidelines and watch it all go down.

a few of the decepticons end up defecting and they get a weird sense of culture shock with how common it is to see interfacing since in con culture that's stupid slag that only softies participate in. actually i think the decepticons would have a completely separate culture regarding interfacing. i think they would be kinky, but they wouldn't consider the bonding/emotional effects of interfacing unless they're real sappy. like interfacing is to blow off steam after a battle, not for having fun with your comrades

drift joins the wreckers and hot rod gives him the best head of his life and then when they cuddle up next to each other drift just has to fucking sit there wondering why no one in the cons cuddled after fucking because this is actually really nice. he gets bent over a table the next morning by blurr and then kup shoves his spike into drift's intake and oh primus drift is having a religious experience now with how well he's getting pounded

i'm going to beam the image of ratchet walking around the ark with his tits fully out and a pair of pretty golden chains pierced through his nozzles and a few particularly handsy bots reach over and tug on them as he passes.

-burnt ice anon

YES. i've seen some instances of “public sex normalized in cybertronian society” and i am LIVING for it. I like the culture shock aspect of it being only autobots who are so open-minded.

A recently defected decepticon just trying to fit in and adapt to the new way of living and they were wholly unprepared to just walk in on people fucking all the time. They walk in on Prowl in his office chair with Jazz slowly grinding against his spike, the sound of his valve gushing is so loud and yet Prowl just keeps on typing away on his data-pad, only occasionally wincing in pleasure. They go to the med-bay next instead but Ratchet's got First Aid sitting on his spike, and it's still weird. They're sitting in the canteen and someone just starts melting right next to them, overloading silly around a remote control vibrator while their partner watches from across the table. Optimus regularly getting jerked off under the desk during high-command meetings, he's pretty sure his side of the desk is completely stained with transfluid from below. Also thank you so much for the image of Ratchet walking around with his titties out. I bet you everyone's sick that day, and absolutely need to be admitted to the medbay and see the doctor right now. He spends the day smacking away wandering hands, though he's only playing hard to get.

hrghhh kink nights with different themes. They get to vote on them weekly. Sometimes a volunteer gets chained and strung up and used repeatedly throughout the night, repeatedly checked up so they're sure he's alright. Sometimes there's pet-play, bots on leashes being told to “go play” with the other pets (i really want to see Sunstreaker for pet-play night… Sunny letting Bluestreak put a leash on him, gritting his teeth the entire time because he's being treated like a domesticated turbofox and it's humiliating and yet it feels so damn good… Sunstreaker rubbing his valve against someone else's, while his owner coos encouragement at him). Or you have simple orgy nights, where people can just blow off steam having sex with anyone. Glory holes in the bathroom that are frequented regularly. Wrecker orgies that shock Drift to the very core but they're fun and he can't complain. And the aftercare is peculiar. They never had anything like that back in the decepticon order. 

#valveplug #yes yes yes i love public sex

[altraviolet]

Just for funsies while the next chapter comes out, here are the notes for almost every Toaster appearance:

Chapter 15:

"It means I taste-test everything first and if there's something wrong with it, we know right away, cuz I'm so small!" Toaster pounded a tiny fist into a tiny palm. "Unsung hero!"

Not main plot related, just the introduction to Toaster because I like him. I love that he wasn’t stuck in there with SW, SW was stuck in there with him.

Chapter 21:

Toaster wielded a spoon like a sword and whacked Soundwave's shins. "Put him down!"

Toaster being this incredibly brave against Soundwave is amazing and hilarious. There is s reason he survived the DJD.

Chapter 23:

Toaster had made a curious request, but whatever Toaster wanted, Toaster got.

As he should, he’s our hero.

Soundwave was there, too, squished against the window between Rodimus and the wall, because Toaster had specially requested his presence.

I’ve not a clue why Toaster requested SW be there, but this is hilarious.

"Chin up!" Toaster whacked Ultra Magnus's knee with the scepter.

Random character development moment that doesn’t have to do with Rod or SW, Toaster in the fic Cone, was intimidated by Ultra Magnus for both his being an important autobot and his size but thousands of years later he does not care.

Chapter 44:

Toaster wriggled out of Ambulon's grasp and fell to the floor. "Scraplet this!" He kicked Ambulon in the shin.

Iconic Toaster moment, he fears no mech, monster or god. Very cute he feels comfortable to just climb the bed and talk to SW (latch on to Lazerbeak too) but then again why would he hesitate to do whatever he wants? He’s Toaster.

Chapter 47:

His curse-laden muttering softened as he swung an apron on. It was painted with a crime scene style outline of Toaster's body. Scrawled inside the outline were the words, HEro Of THe sHip And THis Is WHat You Do To ME.

This is hilarious and Toaster does NOT deserve this. I wonder how many times weekly he has to wrangle Grimlock with his tiny self.

LOL xDDD it's so fun you've kept track of Toaster ahahaha

also, for the record (I'm not sure if it's clear or not), Toaster made the apron Grimlock is wearing

thank you! glad you have enjoyed Toaster so much =D

behind the cut is a behind the scenes Toaster factoid & spoilers for Cone, which is a humorous short story about a mech who survives the DJD. check it out if you'd like HERE

The reason why Toaster wanted Soundwave with him in the Snowbeast and the reason he has a fondness for SW, is because Toaster is also an ex-Decepticon. at one point he tells SW he is "The student who will someday become a master." this is basically his way of saying "someday you'll grow out of the Decepticon stuff and become like me- no longer a Decepticon, but who you are meant to be." and who is Toaster? the hero of the ship, of course ;)

#nikkimna #toaster #echo garden related

[whitelionspirit]

Some pre overlord stuff for ya

A sigh left your lips as you doodled away on your data pad instead of doing the filing Ratchet had given you to do to distract your boredom. The medbay was full as usual but everything had been done for the day and you were now just waiting for your shift to end.

Almost two years on the ship and so much had happened. Not a ton of progress on finding the knights but you had definitely learned a lot while training under Ratchet. He wasn’t entirely impressed with you when you first met but you eventually grew on the old doctor. Surprisingly Ratchet rather enjoyed reading and so did the rest of the medbay staff. So it became a common thing to to listen and discuss what they were reading weekly.

When you first arrived on the ship most of the mechs were only interested because they had never met humans before. After the spectacle of it died out no one really bothered with you or Lotus. Most of them were friendly but only a few really showed interest in getting to know you on a more in-depth level. For the first three months you mostly just hung around Ratchet as he was your mentor. Otherwise you found yourself in particular in the company of Rodimus surprisingly often.

#transformers x reader #lost light medic! reader #drift x reader #ratchet x reader #rodimus x reader