#galvarod

[fmab]

❤️❤️❤️❤️ yippie

[allsoundwavesarebeautiful]

amusement park date

bg credit

[iamzodi]

For some reason, my mind is weaving a young practical SG Hot Rod/Rodimus as an apothecary--I mean, medic(!)

Okay, it's Apothecary Diaries but Transformers.

The current emperor's mechling, er, trusted high-ranking officer is SG Soundwave (the face behind the mask and visor is a young and handsome version of SG Galvatron), SG Megatron as the current and good emperor of Kaon, SG Nemesis (the Decepticon ship but shrank down to normal bot size) is the emperor's true love, also he also adores his other consorts, the trollish SG Starscream, SG Shockwave who undergone emergency empurata due to his health condition caused by poisoning, young SG Tarn whom SG Nemesis took in to protect from the emperor before SG Megatron, and another consort (I cannot think of anyone...)

SG Overlord was another consort of the good emperor, but was relieved from that duty and was hoping to be bought by SG Trepan. SG Cyclonus, SG Scourge (the Sweep), and the cassettes are SG Soundwave/Galvatron's advisors and helpers.

The Wreckers are service bots (aka courtesans...) that treat SG Roddy like their little brother. SG Perceptor likes strong but silly mechs like SG Dead End, SG Arcee prefers hot femmes (possibly SG Flamewar), and SG Blurr has a thing for cyclopses. The owner of the Wrecker House is the greedy SG Kup.

SG Roddy's carrier is SG Elita One, another Wrecker who thought she got ditched from being sold. She blames SG Roddy for existing before contacting rust during work to pay her debts to SG Kup. The rust eventually made her insane but docile so she would not hurt SG Roddy.

The sire is the war minister SG Optimus, who had no idea that his family was alive until SG Roddy was heard to be under empurata'd SG Ratchet's guardianship. SG Ratchet was empurata'd after failing to save SG Nemesis' sparkling (a sparkling switch occurred that SG Megatron had no idea until much later, hence SG Soundwave/Galvatron still survives as rightful heir but hates that job).

SG Roddy calls SG Optimus a creep because SG Kup calls him that during a surprise visit from the war minister himself. SG Optimus, however, wanted to buy SG Roddy out of sire instinct and love. SG Roddy sees him as an annoying rival (they're both smart in their own professions). Too bad SG Soundwave/Galvatron bought SG Roddy first before SG Optimus could.

Okay, that's it I suppose...

[stairre]

submerse - Chapter 6 - Stairre - Transformers - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

In which Galvatron is a war veteran stomping his way through life in a society that scorns mecha like him, Rodimus is a techno-organic experiment living in the Rust Sea, and this fic is not quite a proper MerMay fic, but it’s certainly got the vibes.

Please heed the warning tags. This fic is most definitely Angst With A Happy Ending, but it does deal with dark themes. Saying that, it’s more fluffy than the tags imply, and it’s definitely not grim-dark.

This is part 6 of 9.

[spicycury13]

My baby boy 🥺🥺

[polygonal-trees]

at some point I will actually watch the source material and work out feasible GalvaRod dynamics but for now I'm imagining Galvatron picking Rodimus up under the arms whenever they need to talk because Galvatron respects Rodimus enough to want to look him in the eye but also absolutely refuses to kneel down for Literally Anyone Ever

[heliopauseentertainments]

At The End Of A Long Day

A birthday present for @tarklesbehindthescenes. Happy birthday!

Continuity: G1

Rating: General Relationships: Galvatron/Rodimus

Characters: Rodimus, Galvatron

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Vignette, Established Relationship, Fluff, Cuddling, Not Beta Red

Summary: In which Rodimus is exhausted by the burden of leadership.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

The sun shone in through the windows of Rodimus’s private quarters. Well, not solely his, the ones he shared these days with Galvatron, who was out at the moment. He had no clue when his partner would come back.

The light formed an accusing spotlight on the back of his head.

Worse, the chronometer on the wall flashed the time, indicating that it was only early afternoon.

Yet Rodimus already felt so exhausted, his limbs heavy and his mind sluggish.

After finishing with his morning meetings, he had rolled home… and promptly flopped prone onto the ground.

He turned his head away from the wall as though not looking could negate the reality of linear time.

Rodimus had, over time, gotten used to the idea that, to some extent, he would always be involved in keeping a fractured, nearly barren Cybertron together, despite having tried to separate himself from the burden of the Matrix whenever possible. It had been difficult to accept the immense, inescapable responsibility that he had never wanted in the first place.

If only that were all of it.

After the wisdom in the relic had been drained to push back against the Hate-Plague, the added task of refilling it with new wisdom also weighed him down. Only a small seed of light had been restored to the chamber.

Most days were an uphill battle, but that was hardly new for Rodimus. Life just tended to be a Sisyphean task.

At least these days, that task tended to involve fewer battles and more administrative pressure. He could do without the tedium and public appearances and approvals and interviews and blah blah blah—If only he could liquefy and saturate the floor.

Then again, given that the floor was solid, Ultra Magnus would likely just come by and mop him up, wring the resulting Rodimus juice out into a bucket, and then prop that bucket up in the chair in Rodimus’s office. He would probably even tape a light-pen to the rim of the bucket for Rodimus’s “convenience.”

An absolutely terrible way to go, he thought, pressing the side of his face into the cold, metal floor.

And they’d write it on his epitaph: “Forever Dedicated To The Betterment of Cybertron”

The bust, of course, just to rub salt into the wound of his exhaustion, would be a lovingly sculpted damned bucket, in beautiful black granite, with a faithfully rendered taped-on pen.

He heard a door slide open behind him. It was probably the front door, but he couldn’t be sure without looking. Looking would require moving and he had little to no interest in doing that at the moment.

However, just in case whoever had walked in thought him dead, Rodimus groaned horribly to dispel any worries about having stumbled upon the corpse of the vaunted leader of the Autobots. He wasn’t dead, not yet anyway.

“I have returned from the day’s battles!”

It was just Galvatron then; that was fine. He had never been one to fear a half-dead body. Or a full-dead body. Any body, actually.

Rodimus managed to slide one arm over his head to give his partner a tired thumbs up.

“Welcome back,” he mumbled into the ground. “Good job.”

With the reintegration of the Decepticons into mainstream society, Galvatron’s role these days was more ceremonial than practical. Rodimus was often envious of how little paperwork he had to do. Public appearances were the mainstay of his duties. At least Galvatron, being a blowhard, liked the sound of his own voice. That would make it a less tedious duty for him personally.

“Rodimus, why are you on the ground?” Rodimus, still not able to see Galvatron, could hear the heavy stomp of his footfalls as he approached… and then the creak of his old joints as he squatted down. “Where is your dignity?”

“Uh… Misplaced it this morning.” Assuming Rodimus had had any dignity to start with was very generous of he, so he decided to humor Galvatron a little.

“I shall graciously help you locate it—“

He probably ought to intervene before Galvatron’s sometimes tenuous grasp on reality slipped. He did better these days, but best not to chance it.

“Galvatron, I was joking. It was a joke—”

“Perhaps it has been stolen then.” A strong hand pressed into his shoulder, as though to comfort him, to assure him that all was not lost in the course of some grand quest. “I shall sally forth and reclaim it for you from the smoldering corpse of the would-be thief.”

How, uh, valorous.

“No,” Rodimus said, “you really don’t need to do that.”

“But why?”

“You’re being incredibly literal again—Look, I’m just tired. It’s fine. Really, it’s fine.”

Said a mech lying prone on the floor and having spent untold minutes wishing to ooze into it. Totally fine and normal behavior and goals.

He could hear Galvatron humming with doubt.

“Are you dying?”

Before Rodimus could say anything in protest, a heavy weight pressed along his side before arms rolled him over. The next thing he knew, he was both cradled into a tight embrace and also pressed into the floor. Good thing he had never been claustrophobic.

“This is hardly a warrior’s death!”

Despite being a somewhat squished, he was comforted by the embrace, as though the hug would keep the worst of the exhaustion at bay. If anyone could intimidate a sensation, it would be Galvatron.

“No, Galvatron, it’s… it’s an accountant’s death and I’ve always hated math.”

Galvatron’s grip around his torso tightened, but not uncomfortably so. Not yet anyway. It happened sometimes when he got a little too… enthusiastic in his affections. The guy never did anything by half-measures, both a blessing and a curse depending on the day.

“I forbid you to fall to such a pathetic enemy.”

There was no winning any complaint otherwise; he knew that by now. Best to just give up and let Galvatron have his… whatever this was. Victory, maybe? That didn’t seem quite right, but it didn’t really matter.

Rodimus relaxed into the sense of safety and concern.

“Alright, alright; I won’t. You’ve convinced me,” he conceded.

Galvatron scoffed, as though the very idea of an alternative was laughable.

“Of course, I did.”

And, frankly, Rodimus felt a little better already.

[tarklesbehindthescenes]

Why is... Why is it so hard to find Galvarod content? I have a craving and I can’t find them being mushy with each other! Is there a tag that I’m not thinking of?? I didn’t think the ship was this rare!