They’re 100% talking about their teams

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They’re 100% talking about their teams
Just realized I didn't post these fuckass robots, throw them to the vultures
Taking care of eachother
+bonus soundchet
Whatever go my rareship!!
Are they stupid? Do they know they exsit?
Hey everyone…! 🥺 how yall doing…? 😅
You remember that Outlier Ratchet fanfiction I had? Yeah!! I do too!! Ignore the fact it’s been a year but uh… it’s getting an update soon! Here’s a sneak peak :3
please don’t kill me I swear I just lost interest in TF for a bit but I’m back in and I’ll finish it please believe me
It’s been a while so I’ll just… drop this here
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Don’t mess with us Soundchet shippers we’re few but strong
Any TFP!SoundChet (Soundwave x Ratchet) prompt ideas?
Ratchet is not letting that slagger wake up until he’s checked all his systems. And Soundwave’s systems are oh so interesting.
Soundwave ignores Ratchet’s muffled cursing. If only the medic would just calm down and accept the hug- well, a hug of tentacles, and also Soundwave had just kidnapped the mech from his base, but still.
Medic Soundwave has to take care of Gladiator Ratchet.
Bonk
I’m taking this as an excuse to release this excerpt of writing for one of my fav rarepairs that I never talk about lmao.
(it’s an older piece of writing, just so distracted by jetbee that I highly doubt I’m going to finish writing the rest of it in the foreseeable future LOL)
(Ratchet x Soundwave G1)
ITS HALFBAKED I COULDNT FIGURE OUT THE DIALOGUE OK-
Ratchet was already shaken from the sudden attack on him earlier that day, and naturally did not react well to the servo placed on his pauldron. The touch had been light, non-threatening, but the medic was already swinging the wrench in his servo at the offender before any of that registered in his overworked processor. A resounding clang accompanied by the sound of smashing glass flew across the previously quiet room.
Ratchet had only just registered that he had just hit Soundwave of all bots—one of the few decepticons who had treated him fairly— when he was belted across the helm. He toppled back into the wall, frame reeling as his recently re-melded chevron was snapped once again. He’d no time to recover before servos pinned his wrists to the wall and a very upset looking faceplate was up in his vision. “Ratchet: hit Soundwave. (idk smth threatening whatever)”
Ratchet could feel the way his struts strained as his pede tips barely brushed the floor of his cell. Soundwave then shifted Ratchet up – now his pedes were completely in the air— to look him directly in the optics, a low, angry whirr working its way out of his vocalizer. “… Soundwave.” A sharp tink as a piece of crimson glass fell between what scant space there was between them. Gold optics bore into blue ones, and as much as he wanted to break eye contact, Ratchet didn’t think he had that option.
“Explain.”
The position he was in was uncomfortable, and Ratchet did not want to explain himself like this; not that Soundwave would let him go until he did. Squirming only earned him a tighter grip. “I thought you were another one of the combaticons, and reacted as such.” Ratchet dug his heels against the wall in an attempt to gain any sort of leverage. “Now let me go, please.” The please had been difficult to say, keeping his tone polite and level even harder.
Soundwave did not let go, looking at him in an almost expectant manner instead. Ratchet very much wanted to hit the petulant cassette player with a wrench again. “and…. I am. Sorry for hitting you.” He broke eye contact as the wall opposite to the one he was pinned against began to look much more interesting than the way his captor’s optics cycled in a mocking manner. “And?” Ratchet was going to kill this bot, enemy third in command or not. “And.” He gritted his dentae. “I will be giving you repairs to the best of my abilities, while (idk smth that they referenced in earlier chapters?)”
The pleased purr the decepticon made did not make Ratchet’s mood any better as he was gently set down on the Nemesis’s floor. He quickly scrambled out from between Soundwave and the wall, pretending to do something with the scant tools given to him on the desk. His spark was hammering furiously in its spark casing as he busied his servos with a piece of metal. There will never be a time where he will ever admit to being intimidated in such a compromised position.
His face throbbed.