Worldcat is my bestie and my one true love!! Not only does it tell you what library a book is at, but it also price compares different used book sites against each other for easy view! It's how I got Tarot For the Master for $10!!
Oh, and since I have your attention: z-library (books and textbooks) and sci-hub (gatekept scientific journal articles.) I just ripped a textbook for class off z-library and snatched a required reading from sci-hub. Life is good and education should be accessible at every stage and station of life.
Iâve said this before and Iâll say it again but it is absolutely an example of civilizational inadequacy that only deaf people know ASL
âoh we shouldnât teach children this language, it will only come in handy if they [checks notes] ever have to talk in a situation where itâs noisy or they need to be quietâ
My family went holiday SCUBA diving once, and a couple of Deaf guys were in the group. I was really little and I spent most of the briefing overcome with the realization that while the rest of us were going to have regulators in our mouths and be underwater fairly soon, they were going to be able to do all the same stuff and keep talking.
Update: you guys this is an amazing resource for learning asl. Bill Vicars is an incredible teacher. His videos are of him teaching a student in a classroom, using the learned vocabulary to have conversations.
Not only is the conversation format immersive and helpful for learning the grammar, but the students make common mistakes which he corrects, mistakes I wouldnât have otherwise know I was making.
He also emphasizes learning ASL in the way itâs actually used by the Deaf community and not the rigid structure that some ASL teachers impose in their classrooms
His lesson plans include learning about the Deaf community, which is an important aspect of learning ASL. Knowing how to communicate in ASL without the knowledge of the culture behind it leaves out a lot of nuances and explanations for the way ASL is.
Lastly, his lessons are just a lot of fun to watch. He is patient, entertaining, and funny. This good natured enthusiasm is contagious and learning feels like a privilege and not a chore
And itâs all FREE. Seriously. If youâve ever wanted to learn ASL
It's my first time requesting someone so can I request Ironhide x GN! Reader or Fem! Reader, like in a enemies to lovers kinda way
LOVE&WAR â CH. 1
Paring: Ironhide x gn!human!reader
Trope: Enemies to lovers
Synopsis: After the revelation of the Cybertronians, humanity found itself divided between the hope for peace and the fear of the unknown. To seal the alliance between species, the Inter-Species Coexistence & Living Program was created, pairing human diplomats with members of both factions in public partnerships. But not everyone believed in this harmonious future. Amid human protests and Cybertronians who saw the project as a waste of time, you were assigned your partner: Ironhide. To him, humans were far too fragile and volatile to deserve his trust. And to you, Ironhide embodied everything most difficult in a partner: outdated, stubborn and arrogant, testing every drop of your patience. The problem? There was no option to switch. Every spot was already filled, and the two of you were stuck with each other. Now, under the media spotlight and the watchful eyes of the world, only two choices remain: learn to coexist or turn the peace treaty into a ticking time bomb.
Warnings: Bound Partners AU. This story will eventually contain sexual scenes, so MDNI. Potential sensitive topics addressed in the story will include a trigger warning before the chapter.
Word count: 1,2k
âif all is fair in love and war, i can't do this anymoreâ
A/N: Dear anon who sent me this ask, Iâm really sorry for taking so long to reply. I hope you like it!
ââ .⌠CHAPTER ONE
The revelation of the Cybertronians on Earth completely changed the course of humanity. For years, the idea that we were not alone in the universe had been purely speculative â until the war between Autobots and Decepticons became impossible to hide. Cities were devastated, battles raged across human soil, and there was a constant uncertainty about who truly held control of the planet. It took more than courage to keep Earth from becoming just another battlefield in a war that was never ours to begin with. In an unprecedented effort, governments around the world united to negotiate directly with the leaders of both factions. After years of grueling discussions, an Interplanetary Peace Treaty was finally signed.
As a symbolic gesture of this new alliance, the ICLP â Inter-Species Coexistence & Living Program â was created, though the public quickly gave it the nickname âdiplomatic match.â The idea was simple: each side would provide a few of their own, and every participant would be paired with a human partner. Not just as allies, but as living proof that two species so different could indeed coexist, and as a demonstration of goodwill to uphold the fragile peace. Together, they would appear in the media, attend official events, and above all, embody mutual trust.
And that was exactly where you found yourself now. You had been present through every step of the negotiations; your diplomatic skills had been crucial in reaching this outcome. Ever since you were young, you remembered reading books and watching films about alien life, always wondering how it was possible that we could be alone in such a vast universe. The revelation of a world as strange as Cybertron, and of its towering metallic inhabitants, was nothing short of extraordinary. So when your superiors asked you to help with the peace treaty, of course you accepted without hesitation.
Now, you too were part of the âdiplomatic matchâ program â and you couldnât be more anxious to meet your assigned Cybertronian. All you knew was that they were an Autobot, and one of the older ones at that. You had no idea what to expect from this first meeting, but you knew you wanted to make a good impression. Since youâd be spending a lot of time together, you hoped to build a strong friendship.
You barely rounded the corner into the avenue when you saw a small crowd gathered in front of the ICLPâs operational base gates. Angry people shouted hostile words against the program and the Cybertronians, waving signs and placards. You slowed down and honked a few times so they would clear the way to the checkpoint. Some glared at you, but eventually let you through.
âGood morning, sir,â you greeted the guard at the booth, pulling up the badge hanging around your neck. It displayed your name and possibly the worst ID photo you had ever taken. The gate lifted, and you drove inside, heading straight for the parking lot where a spot had been reserved for you. Once you parked, you grabbed your backpack from the passenger seat, slung it over your shoulders, and headed toward the massive building. The place was spotless and impeccably organized, with only a few guards at the revolving doors and a receptionist seated behind a long marble counter. You approached, cleared your throat to catch their attention.
âGood morning, how are you?â you said politely. They offered nothing but a strained smile, as though being there already cost them too much effort. âIâm part of the program. Iâm here for my first day.â The receptionist asked for your badge, typed some information into their computer, then returned it. âGo through that door. Someone will guide you from there. Good luck.â You nodded and walked toward the dark glass door. As soon as you stepped inside, you found yourself in a long white hallway with a single heavy metal door at the end. Cameras on the ceiling followed you as you walked. Stopping at the door, you knocked three times, and it opened with a metallic groan.
A nurse dressed entirely in white â cap, mask, long gloves â guided you to a chair, where you sat. With surprising gentleness, she took your left arm and rested it on a padded support. She asked permission before rolling up your sleeve, and when she noticed your wary expression, she smiled calmly beneath the mask âDonât worry. Iâll just inject a small chip into your bloodstream. Itâs only to allow the organization to monitor your health during the project.â
You gave a reluctant nod and looked away as she cleaned the area and prepared a syringe, the thickest needle you had ever seen. You didnât recall reading anything in the contract about health-monitoring chips, but to be fair, you had skimmed most of it after page seven. When she was done, she placed a small child-themed bandage over the insertion site and instructed you to move on to the next room. Following her directions, you passed through another metal door and found yourself face-to-face with one of your superiors â an elderly, bald man who barely reached 5ft. He smiled without showing his teeth and extended a hand in greeting. âGood morning, dear diplomat. I trust youâre eager to meet your Cybertronian partner.â
âYou have no idea how much,â you replied warmly, gripping your backpack strap a little tighter. âThen follow me, pleaseâ He led you down a corridor lined with doors, until finally stopping at one that stood farther apart. Opening it, he revealed a vast chamber. Bright lights illuminated the space, and advanced machinery hummed as it worked nonstop. You had lost all sense of the outside world inside this underground facility, not even realizing how far below ground you had gone. You both stepped onto a walkway overlooking the area, and he began explaining the basics of the baseâs operations. Then, heavy footsteps echoed, and from a distance you spotted two Cybertronians approaching.
Even though you had helped with the peace treaty, you had never been this close to them, and their sheer size was still staggering. One of them you recognized instantly: Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. The other, with his crimson frame and perpetually stern expression, was new to you. As they drew nearer, the scale difference became overwhelming, you and your superior looked no larger than ants by comparison.
âThis is Optimus Prime, Autobot leader. I assume youâve seen him in the news before,â your superior said. You offered a warm smile and extended your hand. With careful precision, Optimus clasped your entire hand between two of his digits and gave the gentlest shake he could manage. Your gaze then shifted to the other mech, who seemed physically pained just to stand there âAnd this is Ironhide. The two of you will be partners in our program.â
Your smile brightened as you stepped closer to the railing, extending your hand again. âItâs a pleasure, Ironhide. Iâm-â but he leaned down suddenly, lowering his massive face to just inches from yours. A gust of hot air vented from him, making your hair sway. âSo, youâre the little child playing diplomat Iâll have to tolerate?â His deep, rumbling voice sent a shiver through you. Your smile vanished instantly, replaced by indignation. Did that rust bucket just question your professionalism and years of study? âAre you always this bitter? You certainly speak poorly for someone whoâs supposed to represent his people.â
Please, please make Swerve yearn for the resident human in the lost light
A/N: Aye aye! (I love a good pining Angst piece.) Ngl I want this to become one of my multipart pieces so make sure y'all remind me to write more by dropping in my ask box... anyway hope yall enjoy!
WARNINGS: Pining/Longing, Mild Obsession from Swerve
âŞď¸Key: Klik = Second, Breem = Minute, Joor = Hour, Cycle = Day & Vorn = Year
[ Couldn't Wouldn't Love Me Pt1 ] Swerve x Reader - Word Count: 938
You had been the Lost Lights liaison for exactly 28 cycles, 3 joors, 7 breems, and 21 kliks. Not that Swerve was counting. Because he definitely wasn't counting. He had a passive interest in you... totally normal, totally casual. You were a human on a ship full of Cybertronians; of course, you were going to cause a slight interest. Especially for someone like him who loved human culture. It was normal.
"I still can't believe they're actually from Earth," Swerve mumbled as he slid a glass towards Skids. The other mech caught the drink and followed Swerve's line of sight to you.
"You're staring again," Skids chuckled, taking a swig of his engex. "Why don't you just say hello?"
"What," Swerve shook his head, visor brightening with panic. "No, no, they would have no reason to talk to me. I'm just the bartender; they're here for Earth-Cybertronian political relations & communications. They should focus their efforts on talking with the captains, scientists, or... you know, anyone more important than me."
"Okay, whatever you say," Skids rolled his optics as he threw back the rest of his drink. "But personally, I don't see harm in introducing yourself to them. It's better than staring and obsessing." Skids then stood and made his exit, leaving a couple of shanix behind for his drink.
What does Skids know, Swerve thought to himself. He doesn't understand the intricacies of humans. Nor the angle from which Swerve was coming.
Humans brains and bodies require a lot of care, upkeep, and rest in between work. So when you weren't working you were most definitely resting; and whether working or resting you most definitely didn't want him there. Working you didn't need his input, and resting you definitely didn't want to hear him gab. He knew how exhausting his motor mouth could be. Every bot on this ship had made it clear that his presence was draining. And that was the angle he was coming from. An angle that ran parallel you, never crossing or overlapping. Thus he had to admire you from afar, because he would never obtain anything more.
Suddenly, you were throwing your head back in laughter at something Rodimus had said, pulling Swerve from his thoughts. Biting down on his digit, Swerve held back the urge to squeal. You were so fragging cute.
He wondered what you two were talking about to make you laugh like that. Certainly, some after-hours coworker banter, Rodimus could get away with doing that. In fact, that seemed to be the Captain's specialty: smooth banter. Rodimus was probably saying something suave, something smooth. Something like 'working with you was great today, but getting drinks is even better.' Cause everybody knew the Captain of the Lost Light was a flirt.
Letting go of the digit between his denta, Swerve felt a pang of jealousy flit through him. He wished he could be that smooth. Correction: he wished he could be that smooth with you. Dreaming of all the cool one-liners he could hit you with, Swerve turned to grab a cleaning rag to polish a cup. Turning back, his optics slid to your table once again, only to find you and Rodimus gone. Searching the crowd to see where you two had gone. He quickly realized Rodimus had picked you up to carry you towards the bar.
OH FRAG YOU WERE COMING TO THE BAR! Swerve nearly dropped the cup he was polishing.
Up until this point, to make it easier, Drift or Rodimus had been grabbing your drinks for you. This way, you didn't have to try to navigate a bar of drunk giants. But now you were coming up to the bar!
His bar!
His bar to see him!
The parallel paths were crossing, and Swerve was unsure what to do. His processor was failing; any sentences or ideas he thought of weren't good enough. Finally, Swerve just settled on simply smiling like an idiot as you approached.
"Swerve," Rodimus started, holding you out so you could hop onto the bar top. "I don't think you've been formally introduced to our human liaison yet." Nodding, Swerve waved at you as he tried to find words. But before he could, you spoke.
"It's a pleasure to meet the mech behind the Rum and Cokes," you joked. His visor flashed nervously as he let out a forced laugh, as he analyzed your words.
Mech. You had said it so naturally, almost as if it were a word in everyday Earth vocabulary. Your government program really must have prepared you well. He wondered what else you knew of Cybertronian culture. How much of their history, lifestyle, customs, or even biology did you know?
"Well, it's a pleasure to make them," Swerve finally shot back once he realized you were still waiting for a response. "Especially for such an esteemed guest."
"Esteemed guest? Me? Naw," you blew a raspberry as you waved your hand. "Just some human. You're the real talent here; making drinks this tasty cannot be easy."
"Well," Swerve looked at his hands as he collected his thoughts. (He couldn't believe you had complimented him!) "It's always been a passion of mine, so." Swerve mimicked you blowing a raspberry, which caused you to laugh and his spark to stutter at the sound.
"Oh," you raised an eyebrow, "do tell. I got a report, I'm trying to procrastinate, so take as long as you want." You settled yourself onto the bartop, looking up at him in amusement. Swerve thought in that moment he would simply go offline. You wanted his conversation âenjoyed it evenâ and encouraged him to ramble.
âYou look mad.â Streetwiseâs left optic twitches, simultaneously struggling to resist the urge to whip around and glower at Groove. Before he could even attempt to regain his composure, the mech adds fuel to an already unsteady fire, much to his dismay. âWhy do you look mad?âÂ
After a somewhat dramatic and vocal deep breath, Streetwise swivels around in his chair, servos dead weight in his lap as he greets the two new presences in the room with minimal excitement. It isnât fair to direct his exasperation their way, as they werenât the core result of the emotion by any stretch, yet the both of them together really knew the exact code of how to push his buttons.Â
âIâm not mad.â He mumbles, realizing how rigid and high his shoulders were squared. With some reluctance, he relaxes, leaning rearward against the back of the chair. âCan I help you both with something?âÂ
Rook remains surveying the second in command warily but chooses to let it go, if only to keep the conversation moving and avoid another discussion he'd rather not have. âJust a quick heads-up, Groove and I will be out for a while.âÂ
âOut?â Streetwise repeats, trying to quickly go through the schedule in his mind but concede after losing track of what day it is. âI didnât think either of you were up for patrols.â
The two mechs at his front exchange a knowing look, patiently waiting for Streetwise to put two-and-two together. Unfortunately, itâs not in the realization they were searching for, instead presented with another roadblock to be skated around. âWait- Groove, I thought you were temporarily barred from leaving the base.â
âWe arenât going very far,â Groove reasons, an innocence permeating within his tone. âThe signal in here sucks. Just gonna walk around outside to see if we can catch anything that might be blocked in this metal prison.â
âOkay, maybe Iâm missing something. What would be blocked?â After a brief pause, Streetwisesâ gaze flits to the device in Rookâs servo.Â
Rook follows his optics, down to the crudely re-wired communication apparatus. âWe swiped a couple leftover parts from the box y/n brought over the other day. Blades claims that this should work, but it isnât even ringing. He suggested we take it outside.âÂ
âIs that what heâs been holed up in his room doing?âÂ
âYeah, I guess.â Groove shrugs. âMore or less.âÂ
With a dismissive wave, Streetwise turns back around to face the computer. âGo ahead. I donât mind, just donât go very far. Oh, and please make sure youâre on the proper channel in case we need you back here.âÂ
âSure.â Rook replies, taking a sparing glimpse toward the screen, curiosity piqued to see what he was working on. âWeâll be back in a bit.âÂ
âŚ
âWhen was the last time you took a break?âÂ
The light from the hallway is patently unforgiving, much brighter than the dimmed overhead bulbs that have kept the resident medic company over the past few hours. Hyperfocused on the task at hand, he barely addresses the long shadow that belongs to none other than Hot Spot, his tone overfilled with concern alongside lingering exhaustion.Â
âIâm almost done,â First Aid replies, still tinkering with the metal gadget in his servos. It was foolish to assume that he could dodge the incoming conversation, as he knows it's all futile when the door closes over with an automated clunk. He greatly appreciates the reminders and their consistency, receptive to the awareness of his teammates that he truly was so deep into a task that time eludes him. Perhaps when frustration was beginning to set in, not when he was so close to getting the damn thing to turn onâŚ
âThat did not answer my question.â Hot Spot hums, digits slipping under the light switch, only to expose the mess that has consumed the normally tidy Medbay.Â
It wasnât awful, but more chaotic than First Aid would normally keep the space. The main table was littered with spare parts and machinery, including the brown cardboard box that their new ally had gathered together and so kindly brought over a couple days prior. While the apparatus Hot Spot could recognize was an energon scanner, it was definitely fastened together with components that he was unfamiliar with, curiosity claiming him rather swiftly. Â
When First Aid offers unintentional silence in reply, Hot Spot moves across the room, only to stop in front of the table, large servos splaying against any surface area that wasnât already occupied.Â
âI commend and highly value your ambition to complete this as soon as possible,â He speaks softly, as if afraid to step on any imaginary boundary. âYet, I promise you, this will still be here when you return from a much earned break.âÂ
With some resistance, First Aid gently sets the device back down on the table top. âWell, yes, but- what about our emergency stasis predicament? Shouldnât this take priority?âÂ
âI can recruit Blades to work on it in your absence if you so desire.âÂ
Oh. Why hadnât he thought of that?Â
âI do not disagree that this takes precedence, and I greatly appreciate you dedicating the time to see it through.â Hot Spot continues. âHowever, we have been so graciously provided the necessary supplies to avoid emergency stasis. Please, take care of yourself.âÂ
âOkay, okay. I concede.â The medicâs frame visibly relaxes, moving to stand from the worktable. âWouldâŚyou mind asking Blades? Heâs pretty good at noticing the small stuff I might be missing. If I could get this up and running by tomorrowâŚâ
Finding some solace himself, Hot Spot answers him warmly. âOf course.â Â
âŚ
The afternoon air is a little cooler than when you last stepped outside, met with grey overhead clouds that promised a rain shower in the near future. It doesnât take very long into your walk across the parking lot to spot the familiar unmarked sedan, tucked and backed into a spot closer to the road, headlights nearly faded out.Â
Streetwise has no way to announce that heâll pick you up from work, but has never failed to surprise you with such a kind gesture. It still is strange on occasion, as sometimes the days without seeing any of them tend to bleed back into your normal schedule, almost as if they were never really there at all. One could never forget such distinct and vibrant personalities, an endearingly dysfunctional group that you were still getting to know, yet a handful of radio silence here and there left you at the mercy of pleasant surprises such as these.Â
Somehow, they have become an eventful part of your day. Streetwisesâ impromptu appearances donât startle you as much as they previously had, now finding your pace to be a little less hesitant as you approach the passenger side, the window rolling down upon your arrival.Â
âHello,â He greets, an obvious air of excitement within his tone. âAnd here I was, all worried that you hadn't realized I was here.âÂ
âNo, never,â You offer a small smile in return. âHi to you too.âÂ
Unexpectedly, the driverside door is the one that pops open. It's not unusual behavior for the second-in-command, but it's still only the second time you've ever sat in the driver's seat. âNot that you're not usually in a great mood, but you seem even moreâŚupbeat than usual. I like to see that.âÂ
Walking around the hood, you carefully slide into the pre-offered seat, suddenly hyperaware yet unwilling to complain that this has become a regular occurrence. âI guess itâs just nice to see you again.â
âO-oh?â Streetwise falters, perhaps shutting his door a little too forcefully in nonplus. âItâs always nice to see you-âÂ
âŚ
âRoo.âÂ
Rook stops short, looking over his shoulder to find that Groove had paused a few paces behind him. âYeah? Is everything alright?âÂ
âIâve been thinking,â Groove muses distractedly, servos resting atop his hips. âAnd before you say that's no good, trust me, I know.â
Sensing the prominent doubt and uncertainty within his words, the soldier turns in full, now warily addressing his friend. âYou really havenât been yourself lately, Groove. Whatâs the matter?âÂ
âIâve justâŚIâve been thinking about all the ways this could go wrong.â His gaze shifts from the device in Rookâs servos to a spot just beyond him, physically present, but mentally elsewhere. âMaybe I was very wrong for wanting to dive helm-first into this. We are leaving a literal physical trail for any Decepticons, if there is any out here. I canât stand to see someone get hurt for our bad judgement.âÂ
After a beat of silence, the motorcycle adds quietly: "Especially y/n.âÂ
In all honesty, he expects Rook to laugh. Even though Rook had never laughed at his expense, it was hard to imagine anyone taking such an honest confession seriously. Groove, who begged for Hot Spot and Streetwise to reconsider and the same mech who pleaded his case on how this was a much needed addition to their dwindling team morale.Â
Perhaps itâs guilt that is eating him alive, a bottomless pit of an emotion that will never be satiated lest he attempts to rectify the wrongdoings.Â
âGroove-â Rook starts, shoulders sinking in understanding but also despondency. âThink about it. Thereâs six of us out here, our cover was bound to be blown at some point. Iâm surprised we lasted three years on Earth without being found out.â
Groove toys with Rookâs reasoning for a moment, then nods in reserved agreement.
âYou canât worry about something we canât even prove is true. We donât know if there are Decepticons here, or even if theyâre anywhere near this solar system.âÂ
âI know that. I do.â The shorter Autobot takes four steps forward, now looking down at the communication instrument in his servos. âI guess I just like to add things to my list to worry about. Weâre a little rusty if this comes to a fight.âÂ
âOne day at a time, buddy.â Rook gently smiles, extending the device toward Groove. âWe will figure it out, we always do. And, I promise, itâll all work out.â
Groove returns the gesture, offering a small grin in reply, servos reaching to take the proposed contraption with inordinate care. âOkay. I trust you, Roo.âÂ
Rook pats Grooveâs shoulder in gentle sympathy. âI trust you too. In the meantime, give it a shot. Let's see if that slaghead Blades actually did something right.âÂ
âŚ
Streetwise silently curses at such awful timing, as the gentle song that is your ringtone cuts through his sentence like a cruel prank. Immediately, you fish your phone from your bag, looking at the screen with some mild confusion before hesitantly answering the unknown caller.Â
âHello?â You answer, then straight away tug the phone back away from your ear as shouts of excitement erupt on the other end, loud enough that even Streetwise could hear. Knowing those voices all too well, he finds his grumble of protest to extend a little farther into annoyance.Â
ây/n!â Rook and Groove address you in unison, evidently ecstatic that their project had finally found some success.Â
âSeriously? You two did all that sneaking around just because you wanted a way to contact y/n?â Streetwise breathes, pulling out of the parking spot with a sudden rev of his engine. âThey were being so vague that I could only imagine what they were doing with all those parts they swiped.âÂ
Groove smoothly completes his friendâs thought, their sync undeniable. âYouâre with y/n and didnât tell us?!â
âHello Groove, Hello Rook,â You venture to mediate whilst clicking the call onto speakerphone, but stall to wedge yourself between the argument that was on the horizon. âThis is great news, I'm so glad to hear it ended up being compatible!â
âI have to give credit where itâs due, even if I donât want to. Blades did put the final touches on it.â Rook carps, but adds with a much happier infliction: âBut, yeah! Iâm glad too. It will certainly make communicating a lot easier.â
âYouâve made a grave mistake, y/n.â Streetwise whispers, though a playfulness weaves through his words. âThose two will never leave you alone now.âÂ
Even hushed, they still heard his teasing on the other end of the line. âHeâs just jealous, y/n.â Groove implores, and somehow you can just picture the gold and white mech smiling wildly.Â
âYou guys are too much,â You laugh, entirely engrossed in the multiple conversations occurring. âI donât mind, not at all. They worked so hard to get it all set up,âÂ
âSee, Streets?âÂ
âAnyways,â Streetwise clears his throat, trying to get Groove to shush. âWell, speaking of never leaving you alone, I guess Iâm part of the problem too. Thatâs kinda why Iâm here, I meanâŚif youâre not busy tonightâŚâÂ
âI would like that, thatâs very kind of you to offer.â You hum, effortlessly picking up where his sentence drifted, understanding what was meant without another word. âAs long as you all donât mind-âÂ
âSay less!â Groove shouts, and is followed quickly by Rook:
âSee you soon, y/n.â
âŚ
The Medbay door whirs to life once more as First Aid re-approaches the space, somewhat groggy from an unexpectedly deep recharge, but well-rested and ready to take another stab at the energon scanner. He finally felt like there was light at the end of the tunnel. Once the repairs were done and they found the energon, he could finally relax a little, easing into a newfound, but welcomed schedule.Â
This time, all the lights within the room were on, and the tablespace was a lot more tidied than how heâd left it. Blades was toying with the input on the device, hardly looking up to spare him a glance but offering a grunt of acknowledgement at First Aidâs arrival. One step forward into the room allows for the door to close over behind him, the medic eyeing his progress with great astonishment.Â
âGood job!â He praises, hurrying back over to the work station. âThank you, I really appreciate you working on it while I got some recharge.â
âI donât mind,â Blades shrugs, picking up a screwdriver to tighten some bolts that had been previously loosely attached. âAnythinâ to keep myself busy. Yâhad a pretty good head start, anyways. Ya did a lot with thisâŚprehistoric machinery.âÂ
He gestures with his chin to the cardboard box.Â
âNah, I think itâs kinda cool,â First Aid digs around whatever was left in the box with a single digit, hoping to keep whatever was remaining for spare parts. âVery thoughtful, too. We needed it, I highly doubt that the scanner would be finished any time soon without these materials.â
Blades wrinkles his nose, still occupying himself with half-hearted tinkering. âI guess.â
âTell me if Iâm overstepping,â First Aid sits across from the helicopter, resting his chin atop folded servos. âYou havenât said much in reference to our new friend, and have yet to weigh in on the subject regarding the decision.â
âTheyâre fine.â He responds, spinning the dial a few times before the screen whirs to life. âPersonally, I don't care enough. If it benefits us, I ainât gonna complain âbout it.â
In reply, First Aidâs brow furrows. âIt isnât like that, Blades. This is not just for our benefit, not in the slightest.âÂ
âWhat is it like, then?â Blades places the scanner on the table, sliding it over toward the medic. ââCause the way I see it, everybodyâs all bent outta shape for an organic who we canât even trust.âÂ
âEverything has been fine so far, hasnât it?â He muses, digits siding around the hunk of metal that was proffered. âThink about it. Iâm not sure about the timeline, but weâre cutting it dangerously close regarding this whole emergency stasis situation.â  Â
âI can see both sides.â Blades gravels, finally looking up to meet First Aidâs visor. âYou asked. Jusâ voicinâ my opinion.âÂ
âFair enough.â First Aid replies, gathering the device into a gentle hold. âOne more thing, though, and Iâm sure you already know this. Hot Spot likely wouldnât have agreed to something like this if he didnât trust y/n, at least a little. Whether or not you think our fearless leader made the wrong call, youâve got to give credit where itâs due. He may be the strong, silent type, but heâs one of the sharpest mechs I know.â
Without another word, First Aid departs the Medbay.Â
âŚ
Itâs very easy to forget how big the mechs are, especially after re-entering the space to find Hot Spot standing in front of the computer. You hadnât seen the groupâs leader in some time; as far as you can recall, he wasnât around the last time you stopped by with the supplies with First Aid. Perhaps it was just your point of view, but his shoulders appeared largely tense and his body language radiated a definable stress, a common occurrence youâve come to notice.Â
Immediately, Groove and Rook look up at the sound of the door closing over, both happily extending hellos. âWelcome back,â Rook hums, setting what you assume are something akin to playing cards on the table, giving you his full attention.Â
âThank you,â You breathe, flinching a little when Hot Spot turns rather stiffly at the sound of your voice.
âAh, y/n,â Hot Spot rumbles.Â
You donât think youâll ever be used to the way he speaks your name, full of so much benignity and kindness. He commands your attention immediately, to which you send him an easy, comforting smile in exchange.Â
âHi, how are you?â Itâs a little easier, but the jitters still linger in your stomach from time to time. Streetwise moves past you on the right, heading further into the room as you stay back, gaze still regarding Hot Spot.
âWell, thank you. And yourself?âÂ
Such casualness is lost to Hot Spot, though he will admit itâs alarmingly refreshing. Heâs grown accustomed to the repetitiveness of daily life, the same dead-end conversations that spin in circles. He could never grow tired of his team, he cared for each of them more than they are aware, but this new interval to his schedule is invigorating. It almost makes him have to pause before he replies, accessing a part of his processor he hasnât touched in years.Â
âIâm great, thank you.â You brave a step forward, followed by a more confident one, now approaching Streetwisesâ side once more. âIâve started putting together another crate of items for you guys, but I might need a little more time. How did First Aid do with the first box?â
âWe all deeply appreciate your thoughtfulness, y/n. You have assisted us greatly already, to which we are indebted,â To appear a little less daunting, Hot Spot lowers himself carefully and slowly into the chair that remains in front of the computer. âFirst Aid and Blades are nearing completion of his work on the energon scanner. Your machinery has proven to be of significant assistance.âÂ
âThatâs great news.â A sense of relief catches in your chest, pleased to know that the spare parts you found have proven useful to them. âDonât mention it. Iâm just happy to hear that it even worked.âÂ
âBlades?â Streetwise echoes, confusion noticeable. âHeâs awfully helpful all of the sudden. Didnât you two say that he helped you with the communication device?âÂ
Groove shrugs. âYeah. I did find it odd, but he alsoâŚsaidâŚâÂ
Your gaze shifts from Groove to Hot Spot, catching the latter giving him a look that clearly said, 'Well? What did he say?'.
âNevermind. Maybe heâs decided to stop being an aft and start helping out more.âÂ
Rook laughs. âThat would be a miracle.âÂ
âAlright, that is more than enough from the three of you,â Hot Spot warns, unimpressed. âAll your grievances have been heard, rest assured.âÂ
Youâre pretty sure itâs Streetwise that makes a noise eerily similar to a scoff in the back of his throat, but canât pinpoint if heâs truly the one who did it. Before you can even process the whole ordeal, Streetwise begins a question that never truly gets completed.
âAre they working on it now, or-?â
As if on cue, First Aid enters the command center, Blades trailing not too far behind. Immediately, the red and white mech takes notice of your presence in the room, addressing you contentedly.Â
âWelcome back!â He extends, coming to stand just beside Rook. âJust the person I was looking for, actually. Thank you sincerely for supplying the parts, it worked out exponentially well. Ta-da!â
First Aid presents the finished energon scanner with so much pride, that none of the mechs in the room had the spark to bring up how different it looked than what they were accustomed to. But if it worked, who were they to complain about its appearance?Â
âWell done,â Hot Spot gives a silent nod of gratitude to both the medic and Blades. âI suppose this moves an energon scouting mission to the top of our list for tomorrow's agenda.â
⢠Freezing as he lets himself into his habsuite and hears you both laughing, he vents tiredly. Your shoulders are against the berth, hips up as Tailgate grips them. And your legs are wrapped around the botâs waist as he leans forward slightly, modesty plating against you and even though youâre fully clothed, Cyclonus growls. Canât you two understand how inappropriate this is? âHey, Horns,â you call out in greeting, lifting a hand. âHow flexible are you? Because Tailgate thinks he can hold your hips up like this and this position is pretty fun.â
⢠Biting into the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing when Cyclonus just stares at you and goes right back out the door. Apparently not dealing with alien sex ed. âCyclonus, donât be like that,â Tailgate calls out and you squirm until he bends to ease you down. Youâre not entirely sure of his big, serious friend, but you do like the little guy. And heâs so eager to learn.
⢠Staring at the closed door in distress, you sit up, legs crossed. âHey, donât take it personally. Some guys are private about sex.â Unhappy, Tailgate sits across from you, legs drawn up. Knows Cyclonus doesnât like to talk about interfacing. Or emotions. Or feelings. And itâs frustrating sometimes. Needs someone to talk to this about and now that he has someone, Cyclonus is acting like this. Falling over slowly, he lays his head in your lap and you just blink at him. âI hate when heâs like this,â he murmurs and you lay a hand on his helm.
⢠Doesnât know what to make of you two. Practicing interfacing positions and giggling like sparklings. Like youâre both so close and he feels left out. Even if heâs not interested in discussing with you and Tailgate what positions feel best. Who talks about that stuff? Apparently humans. And his conjunx. Frustrated, he rubs at one of his horns. Knows Tailgate worries heâll get tired of him and heâs told him thatâs not happening. But itâs like Tailgate canât quite believe that, like heâs convinced heâll be abandoned.
⢠âYou want to talk about it?â You ask uncertainly, because heâs just laying there, head in your lap. And heâs freaking adorable, like a metal, alien teddy bear. Visor brightening, he looks up at you. Like heâs surprised youâd offered. Maybe giant, alien robots donât do emotions and talking about their feelings? âI love him. I do,â he says hesitantly. âBut sometimes I think heâs embarrassed by me.â Fingers stroking his helm, you blow out a breath. âMaybe heâs just not comfortable with PDA?â You try and he just stares. âPublic displays of affection?â
My coworker: So what are your plans for the weekend? âşď¸
Me: Oh not much. Just doing life stuff and probably reading some Transformers fanfiction đ
Me inside: I'm gonna read about getting dicked down by giant alien robots đŤ đŤ đŤ
𤣠whatâs wrong with that? đ đśď¸
My Favorite Accident Pt 17
Knockout x Reader x Breakdown
⢠Struggling to wiggle out of his hands as he carries you, arm swinging slightly to make you nauseous, you alternate between demanding he let you go and threatening. Because thereâs a good chance this asshole is going to drown you on purpose and pretend itâs an accident. Especially when you see the big container he grabs and starts filling. To the top. Shit. âWait-wait! Donât you dare!â Clawing trying to hang onto his servos as his hand lifts and he lets go and youâre screaming as you hit the water, still fully dressed. âI canât swim, you asshole!â
⢠What? Humans swim. Heâs seen them do it. Almost certain youâre just messing with him, except, thatâs some fragged up looking swimming. Flailing and gasping, hands clawing at the side of the energon cube. And frag. You actually canât swim. âFor fragâs sake,â he growls, reaching for you as you go under and his servos wrap around your squirming form, hauling you out as you cough up water, thrashing like a mad thing to batter yourself against his servos. âYouâre fine.â Probably.
⢠Coughing and retching as your chest burns, you slump against his servos. âFuck you,â you groan as he vents like youâre inconveniencing him as he carries you to a stall and you flinch as warm water pelts you. And heâs scowling down at you, likely disappointed you didnât drown. Except heâd almost immediately fished you out after realizing you werenât just being dramatic. Making you think maybe heâs not as big an asshole as you first thought. Or he just didnât want his boyfriend pissed at him for killing you within five minutes of being trusted with you. Youâre betting on the latter. Especially when he plucks at your sodden clothes. âNot on your life,â you growl, smacking his servo hard enough your hand stings when he tries to tug your shirt off over your head.
⢠âYou stink,â he growls. Though truthfully, you mostly smell like Knockout and itâs driving him crazy. Hates his partnerâs scent on you. That scent is only supposed to be clinging to him, no one else. Especially not some squishy, little pain in his aft. And you finally give up, swearing nonstop as he strips you and holds you in the spray. Venting when Knockout pokes his head in to check on him like heâs incapable of washing you and hands him an impossibly tiny bottle of cleanser as you tell him heâs an âabsolute dick of a friend.â
⢠Chuckling and wincing when Breakdown pops the bottle trying to open it and gets it all over you, Knockout crosses his arms and watches you squirm and scream threats as Breakdown washes you. Replacing his scent with Breakdownâs own and a shiver of heat runs through him at that thought. Your softness with Breakdownâs musk. And your scent clinging to his partner as he rides the bigger mech. âHurry up, I donât like being kept waiting,â he calls out and Breakdown freezes, engine revving as he catches on. Hearing you screech at Breakdown for rubbing a servo between your thighs, the mech not even paying attention to what heâs doing.
An updated amendment for all active personnel: If youâre going to fraternize with the leader of the Decepticons, make sure to do it while off the clock [and in private].
Credit for the dialogue is by my dear friend @thevioletathena , who made me wheeze with the idea while texting.
wait kids need ai to make their favorite characters talk??? they can't just do that in their heads normal style?? what happened to making your favorite characters kiss by making little videos in your head and projecting it into your psyche cinema style before bedtime
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