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stickytrigger69 · 2 years

Note

Oh! May I request Tfp Optimus just getting some soft, romantic loving please? Just some cherishing the old archivist turned prime 🙏🥺

TFP Optimus Prime x GN Cybertronian Reader

This is some fluffthat gets low- key sad at the end but it's supposed to be cute or whatever.

Reader is referred to as bot instead of mech or femme.

Readers frame type is unspecified.

(o/c) = optic color.

Stabilizers are legs.

Optimus remembers stuff he found in the archives.

Sorry it took forever, I hope you like it :)

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

"Tell me about pre-golden age art again, please?", Optimus chuckles, "Alright," he tries to think about a piece he hasn't told you about before. You're sitting in between his legs, your back resting on his chest. He is sitting against a large boulder, apple blossom petals fall all around the two of you. You're sitting on a hill not too far away from an orchard, the red fruit is just starting to grow and the small buds break the petals from the trees. He can recall so many of the pieces he's seen in the archives, paintings and drawings, sculptures and memorial statues, old photos of scenery or the stars or of beautiful models, their frame types are outdated but gorgeous nonetheless. He hadn't, however, had the pleasure of touching these works with his servos and only knew them from pictures stored on datapads and the rare handwritten documents with hard copied photos of said pieces. He thought long and hard, but he knew he could sit there quiet for hours and you would wait patiently, if he really wanted, he knew he could make you wait for days.

He smiled and let out a deep exvent, his engine rumbling against you, 'that's the one', he thought as he shuffled a bit to get a little more comfortable. "There is a gorgeous painting, scenery, with one subject, the colors were beautiful and blended together perfectly. The medium used was an off world paint, aliens had traded with the artist, their planet and race be kept secret and the artist could take the materials from their home back to Cybertron to make their vibrant paints.", you laid your helm against his chest and faced westward, waiting for the sun to start setting. You could sit with him for days, hell, years, listening to him talk about things stored in the archives. He's told you about old wars, alien races that had come and gone, music, art, the different frame types that evolved over the centuries; you missed Cybertron and his memories were as close as you could get, yours were colorful but stale. "The subject in the painting was humanoid, it was by itself, the mood was solemn and bittersweet. Their skin was a blue with hints of green and purples, they wore long flowing fabrics and stared longingly into the horizon but their face wasn't visible. And the color of the sky was a Grey swirled with powdery pinks and yellows.", you could picture it in your processor. You closed your optics when he had started describing the background; he was looking at you, he always watched your face if he could when he told you these things. You made funny faces sometimes, you showed a lot of emotion when he retold accounts of grief or happiness, you had beamed when he first told you about how Cybertron got it's very first taste of "radical expressionism".

His servos wrapped around your chest as he continued describing the painting, feeling the vibrations and warmth your engine was exuding. He continued to watch your faceplate, you smiled and then expressed surprise when he talked about the shapes of the clouds, he would definitely remember every twitch of the corners of your optics and slight curve of your derma. "The grass they sat upon was red, a dark and angry crimson.", he looked in the direction your helm was facing, the sun would be setting soon and the sky would change colors. Your servos moved up and took hold of one of his, fiddling with the digits, bending and curling them. His legs tightened around your hips, the bottom sides of his pedes connecting to cradle your stabilizers, like a carrier would do for their sparkling. His optics widened a bit as they closed in on one of the petals, "look.", he said as he caught one in his empty servo, your optics snapped open to look at whatever he wanted to show you. "What?", he held his servo open with the petal in his palm, you stared at it with wide optics, analyzing it as closely as possible, "the pink color of the petals are the color of the sky in that painting.", your face lit up, your fans closed so you wouldn't blow the petal from his servo if you exvented. Your helm tilted to the side just a bit as you took mental images of the soft petal, Optimus looked from the petal to your face again, always so curious.

His spark swelled, he lived for moments like this, he loved showing you the wonders of earth, the insects and other animals and the plant life, you loved the plant life the most. Yet, you hardly left the base, opting to stay and help Ratchet instead of going out and doing recon with one of the others. He chuckled at the thought, but he knew you didn't want to go out mostly because the desert reminded you of the oceans of rust, oh how you detested it. You turned your helm in his direction and optics looking into his own, "that's really the same color as in the painting?", you were running your fans again, you always held your invents in when you were curious about something. He nodded and you turned your attention back to the petal before it blew away in the gentle breeze, your followed it and noticed the sky starting turning orange and dark blue. With a content smile you leaned back against Optimus and continued to play with his digits, "it must have been beautiful, keep going please.", he put his other servo back to it's place on your chest. He continued on about the painting until the sky went dark and the stars began to shine, the moon was nearly full, just a couple more days.

Nights with the full moon were his favorites because your paint job would practically glow in the pale blue light, the stars didn't shine a whole lot on those nights, but he already has one in his clutches, he has no need for the ones freezing in the vacuum of space. You felt the same way about him too, he knew it, felt it, even though you hadn't spark bonded he could feel the love you felt for him eminate from your chamber. You had gotten up on your knees and moved out from between his legs to stand and stretch and so he could readjust himself, he kept talking about the painting the whole time. When he was finally comfortable you walked back over to him and sat yourself on his thighs, chest to chest, face to face. Your knees were bent, calves flat to the ground and resting against the sides of his stabilizers as your arms wrapped around his waist, you caught his gaze and held it as he finished describing the artwork. I love you's passed between you, jumping back and forth without having to say a word, the glowing of blue and (o/c) optics reflecting off one another's frames. Optimus' servos moved swiftly up your back as he pulled you in for a tight hug, you buried your face in his neck for a moment and then lifted your helm to rest your chin on his shoulder as you returned his hug, "thank you.", you spoke softly and he hummed in response.

The both of you had your optics closed as your frames melted together, engines purring and arms slowly tightening. Optimus felt like if he let go, you would dissappear and he would fall endlessly into a void of indescribable loneliness. It reminded him of an old poem, or what was left of it, it was handwritten and was torn to pieces. The remaining words, while scattered and seemingly meaningless, still made an impression on Optimus when he was younger so he put the words together in the way which he interpreted it.

My spark,

Though well fed,

Still hungers,

For the loving gaze reserved only for me.

Yearns for the sweet nectar that drips from your

silver glossa, the golden fruit that is your words,

nourishing and addictive,

Oh how one could starve if not in your presence.

The light of the universe will die when the glow of

Your optics no longer light my berth.

I will go deaf when the sounds of your engine cease,

For my love for you is heavier than the universe,

Than Primus himself.

Time will stop,

And I will sit,

Alone,

Until I am nothing but a pile of rust,

If you were to leave my side and join the pool

Of souls in the allspark.

You will wait for me,

Won't you my dear?

So that when I finally get there myself,

We can start life anew,

Together again.

- Anonymous

It's fitting, the Prime would surely lose himself if you were to leave his side. He's told this poem to you several times before, each time your optics well up with coolant. The first time you heard it was when he confessed his feelings to you, you nearly sobbed as you held him tight, babbling away, saying you felt the same way about him. That your life would become void of light if he were to die, though it made him sad to think about either of you joining the allspark before the other, he felt a comfort knowing that he really meant that much to you. That he is needed, and very much loved. He squeezes you as tight as he knows he can before he hurts you with a large smile on his face, relishing in the warmth of your frame in the cool breeze. He loves the way you love him, gentle and passionate, it makes him feel like he's back on Cybertron before everything went awry, when he could still indulge in the beauty of what was; at least now, he doesn't have to look backwards in time but just a few pede steps in front of him for the love and comfort he so desperately needs in times like these.

#transformers #maccadam #gn reader #tfp #tfp optimus prime #cybertronian reader

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psychologeek · 1 year

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You, Jumbler!! Any batfans? (Tag your Jewish batfriends :) )

May I present to you prompt (i got kinda tired in the middle. So good luck 🤞)

Tzofnat

Once upon a time there was a man who had four (or eight, or twelve) sons and as many daughters.

And his children were strong and brave, and each had their own talent: one was talented in the art of war, one was smarter then any man. Another good in judgement, and another a great marchent.

...

(yada yada yada)

Anyway, there was a little Shit kid that was smart and lack of tact.

His siblings includ: an overprotective tired that just want everyone to be happy ; a happy-to-fight that could summon a magic sword* ; a favoured child ; and more

Unfortunately, being a smartass and one of the youngest, while telling ppl you are better than them, doesn't really make them like you.

Hence - one day, some of the siblings come back with their brother's teared and bloody dress:

"father!", They cried, "look what we found!"

And their father cried, for he knew his loved child's dress. And he grieved, for he knew his son was long gone.

"a beast killed him", he said, "a beast ate my son". And he grieved for many years, and he never let his youngest out of his sight, and there was no comforting him.

(unknowingly, his brothers sold him as a slave. And he learn a lot, and rose up for he was clever and all who met him sang his praise).

Years later, and the bad days came. Hunger and plague and death haunted the land.

So said the father: go search for food, assistance, for any help we could get.

And so they went

(things, they come to the land where the Brother is now the Vazir - second to the king/ruler/etc.)

But they don't now him. It has been years, and last they saw him, the brother was a child (beaten to the ground, drugged away by traffickers).

...

(he make them bring the youngest, fraim him for trying to steal something expensive. Tell them the thief have to stay with him, as a slave. They get pissed, Staby get his hair-sword rise up)

and so the Vazir said: "all men should leave this place!".

(and the brothers fear)

And then he face them, and tell: "I know your brother, the one you sold so many years ago. He did well, and got a high position in our king's place. All I did? Was trying to see if the youngest is safe."

(and they are shocked, and confused, and happy and mostly scared. Because the Vazir said their brother is an important man, now. He can pay them back for all they did.)

And so called the Vazir: "Yosef!". But there wasn't any answer.

And he called again: "Yosef!". And again, nothing happened.

And as he seemed to call for the third time, he got up from his throne and approached them. And his words weren't loud, but quiet as he said:

"i am the brother you sold".

(and they tell, the cry from this room was heard on the other side of the land).

...

* "(Yehuda) had one bristle upon his chest, and when he became angry it would pierce (his shield).."

(It's actually an interesting Midrash, especially if you think of young Damian/post-pit Jason )

I think you may like it: @a-witch-in-endor @batfamincorrect @

#batman #jason todd #red hood #batfam #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #jewish culture #genesis #redux #joseph #bruce wayne #as Jacob #jumblr

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madxkam · 2 years

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lord give me strength before all the tango maid dress art gets dropped as a result of friday stably staby bcs i am not sane about him

#tango tek #tango #among us #god is testing me and i am his weakest solider #i will fold at first temptation

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thatnicole · 1 year

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amazee.io

amazee.io is an open-source enterprise-grade web hosting provider. I joined as their first dedicated marketer, soon also taking over business development and sales.

Challenge:

Position amazee.io as a trusted leader in the competitive cloud hosting space, as a bootstrapped startup with limited budgets and resources. Develop a go-to-market strategy, brand, positioning, and marketing & sales assets to convert leads and trials into paying customers.

Key activities:

Conducting customer interviews

Developing case studies, positioning, a messaging strategy, and brand platform

Creating a robust website from scratch

Setting up Hubspot for marketing automation and sales activity tracking

Introducing new product features

Leading partnership collaborations

Spinning up an integrated demand generation program

Results:

6x increase in non-blog web content

10x increase in sessions and page views

3x increase in sales-qualified leads

3x growth in marketing database

3x increase in average deal size

3x increase in revenue

youtube

#Youtube

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madonnaaaddolorata · 2 months

Note

Esse quid hoc dicam, quod tam mihi dura videntur

strata, neque in lecto pallia nostra sedent,

et vacuus somno noctem, quam longa, peregi,

lassaque versati corporis ossa dolent?

nam, puto, sentirem, siquo temptarer amore. 5

an subit et tecta callidus arte nocet?

sic erit; haeserunt tenues in corde sagittae,

et possessa ferus pectora versat Amor.

Cedimus, an subitum luctando accendimus ignem?

cedamus! leve fit, quod bene fertur, onus. 10

vidi ego iactatas mota face crescere flammas

et rursus nullo concutiente mori.

verbera plura ferunt, quam quos iuvat usus aratri,

detractant prensi dum iuga prima boves.

asper equus duris contunditur ora lupatis, 15

frena minus sentit, quisquis ad arma facit.

acrius invitos multoque ferocius urget

quam qui servitium ferre fatentur Amor.

En ego confiteor! tua sum nova praeda, Cupido;

porrigimus victas ad tua iura manus. 20

nil opus est bello—veniam pacemque rogamus;

nec tibi laus armis victus inermis ero.

necte comam myrto, maternas iunge columbas;

qui deceat, currum vitricus ipse dabit,

inque dato curru, populo clamante triumphum, 25

stabis et adiunctas arte movebis aves.

ducentur capti iuvenes captaeque puellae;

haec tibi magnificus pompa triumphus erit.

ipse ego, praeda recens, factum modo vulnus habebo

et nova captiva vincula mente feram. 30

Mens Bona ducetur manibus post terga retortis,

et Pudor, et castris quidquid Amoris obest.

omnia te metuent; ad te sua bracchia tendens

vulgus 'io' magna voce 'triumphe!' canet.

blanditiae comites tibi erunt Errorque Furorque, 35

adsidue partes turba secuta tuas.

his tu militibus superas hominesque deosque;

haec tibi si demas commoda, nudus eris.

Laeta triumphanti de summo mater Olympo

plaudet et adpositas sparget in ora rosas. 40

tu pinnas gemma, gemma variante capillos

ibis in auratis aureus ipse rotis.

tunc quoque non paucos, si te bene novimus, ures;

tunc quoque praeteriens vulnera multa dabis.

non possunt, licet ipse velis, cessare sagittae; 45

fervida vicino flamma vapore nocet.

talis erat domita Bacchus Gangetide terra;

tu gravis alitibus, tigribus ille fuit.

Ergo cum possim sacri pars esse triumphi,

parce tuas in me perdere, victor, opes! 50

adspice cognati felicia Caesaris arma—

qua vicit, victos protegit ille manu.

Ovidio? 🔥

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