This Isnt My Usual Kind Of Writing (that I Post Here Anyway), But I Saw This Amazing Piece Of Artwork

This isn’t my usual kind of writing (that I post here anyway), but I saw this amazing piece of artwork (linked below) and after rewatching Predacons Rising I was really inspired to write something based on it. Enjoy our big man Optimus feeling small for once in the presence of big boy Primus himself :)

(I did want to make this longer but my motivation sadly disappeared :( I do think this is good for what it is though :))

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God Avatar

God Avatar

Optimus’ senses were all slowly coming online.

At least, that was what he assumed was happening. First there was that thrumming of his spark in its chamber. A deep, sonorous hum filled his processor, and the Prime knew his audials must have activated by then. The mech flexed his digits, and slowly, feeling spread itself along the rest of his worn frame.

Then, when his optics finally came online, he witnessed a sight like no other unfolding itself before him.

He was in the depths of deep space, yet rushing past him were countless lights, zooming past him in every direction, in numbers he couldn’t begin to count. Each little light glowed with a faint color of their own, and Optimus’ optics struggled to process such a harmonious symphony of color with merely his own two optics.

As he looked down onto himself, he noticed the rainbow of lights reflecting off of his old plating. And as he flexed one servo, and then another, the mech raised his vision upwards into the churning current of lights above him as memories of the last few moments all rushed into him at once.

Unicron.

The Autobots.

The Well of All Sparks.

White.

Optimus had sacrificed his own spark in order to free the sparks trapped within the AllSpark. If that remained the case, he must have been truly one with the AllSpark by now.

So, if that was the case, how was it that he could still see his mechanical frame? Why wasn’t he another mere spark, joining the current with his brethren into worlds unknown?

A sudden bright light appears before the Prime before he could ponder the question. Optimus squints and raises a servo to shield his optics, yet when his optics cycle themselves and adjust to the gently dimming light, he no longer finds it in him to block his vision.

A gigantic figure appears before him. Plating made of pure, golden light, shining itself out and giving this being corporeal form. A halo wraps itself behind his head, circles appearing like their own dwarf planets encircling it. The mech-like being wears a faceplate and blank, yet knowing optics. It’s finials defy all sense of logic and separate themselves into ever shifting pieces along either side of his helm. Fractals of light jitter about the edges of his form, yet Optimus can make out just about every part of this being that makes him Cybertronian. Sturdy helm, wide chassis, and, of course, the massive servos that lift themselves up from behind the Prime, gently cupping him within the bigger mech’s hold.

“The Thirteenth,” the titan begins. His voice is hollow and echoes through the kaleidoscopic tunnel in which they stand, yet it shakes Optimus to the very core of his spark. The smaller mech finds himself breathless. “Orion Pax. Optimus Prime.”

“You…” Optimus can barely manage to piece together his words as the reality of whom he was facing finally began to hit him. “You are… Primus?” He asks, though there is no questioning lilt to the end of his words.

The golden being gives a mere nod.

In that very moment, Optimus inclines his head deeply, and kneels. “It is a true honor to stand before you, my creator,” he professes as his helm is hung low. Then, he raises his helm back up, if only to properly address Cybertron’s god. “To what do I owe the great privilege of getting your audience?”

“Rise,” Primus’ voice gently commands, and Optimus obliges him. As he speaks, his voice is low and soft, yet still emits a commanding air that no creature— Cybertronian or otherwise— could ever hope to find it in themselves to defy. “Optimus Prime. You have done not only myself a great service, yet the entirety of Cybertron’s people.”

Optimus stands tall as Primus continues. Not out of arrogance, not in the slightest— but out of the innate compulsion to take in every last feature about the god.

“You have committed the ultimate sacrifice. In exchange for your own life, you not only saved my own, yet saved the future of the Cybertronian race in and of itself.” The hands behind Optimus raise themselves higher, and Optimus can’t help but flinch forwards the smallest bit as they gently bump into him. He’s enveloped entirely by that golden light, the pure warmth of the servo behind him washing away any possible fears or doubts. Optimus is raised gently within Primus’ palms, and the creator god gazes down at him with an emotion the Prime can only describe as love.

“And for that, I must thank you.”

Finally finished this little drabble based on this post:

It’s a little shorter than what I normally post but I figured it was best to be kept short and sweet because the image of a human just being yoinked was hilarious.

Ha! Humans have to EARN a smol's trust! 🤣

I saw this screenshot and I had to make this meme!! It's really fitting!!

Mecha-Monty?

Watched Pacific Rim for the umpteenth time the other day and got to thinking....

Sentient Glamrock mecha au...

I have all sorts of ideas as to how Y/n fits into this scenario. :)

My writing muse has been strong these past few weeks! Sorry for the weird posting time but I couldn’t wait and had to post the moment I finished.

This was loosely inspired by this post by @kix-mm:

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The shepherds watch

These beings are an unexplainable mystery. They have been watched slowly wondering about the earth in a dormant state. Sleepwalking. Shephe

I was hoping to request some more first contact Rodimus 👉🏽👈🏽 Now that him and the resident human can communicate he's learning exactly what their boundaries are. Basically him just realizing how smothered they felt and falling into a much more comfortable and tentative friendship. Maybe she even explains how she doesn't like some of the things he did like not being given a choice w the laying on top of his chest plate thing?

Aahhh I’m happy to do some TCFC!Rodimus for you! After this request I did note in my rules that if you’d like a First Contact Rodimus separate from my Too Close For Comfort series you’re more than welcome to do that, it’s explained further in depth there! But seeing as you specified events from TCFC I’m assuming you’re asking for a continuation, which I’m happy to do for you :) and for those who aren’t familiar with my Too Close For Comfort series, you can find all of the parts either in my masterlist or under the tag “#too close for comfort fic”, which is listed below!

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: SFW, GN!Human!Reader, First Contact AU

The bots did keep their promise— the Lost Light was now headed back towards Earth. But seeing as you were lightyears upon lightyears away from your home by now, you had a feeling you had a very, very long trip ahead of you.

While part of you dreaded that fact, you at least felt some relief in that now you had a voice. Gone were the days of getting dragged along against your will, with these Cybertronians none the wiser. They could understand you, and you could understand them, all you needed now was the glue to piece those two parts together: decent communication.

And that was something that, to your surprise, both you and Rodimus were keen on upholding.

There were your high days and low days, of course. Sometimes you didn’t wanna be anywhere Rodimus— your homesickness getting the better of you and pushing you away from everyone.

But there were other days where you somehow found you adored spending time with him.

Standing high in the air up on the captain’s shoulder, watching the world race by as he merely walked. Seeing the world at his level almost made you forget you were the odd one out here. You’d feel the constant presence of the captain beside you, the feeling of every little motion he made running waves through your comparably tiny form. A small huff of air blows past you, and you turn your head upward to see Rodimus gazing at you with a small, sweet smile— huffing a small chuckle through his nose.

“What?” You ask, playfully raising an eyebrow and crossing your arms.

“Oh, nothing,” he replies nearly instantly, shifting his head back forward, but keeping his attention focused on you through the corners of his optics.

“C’mon, Rodimus— I know you well enough to know when something’s on your mind.” You lean forwards just a bit to try and make better eye contact. “Well, I mean. It’s not like you’re very subtle to begin with.”

The orange mech laughs, “Hey!” and you find yourself laughing too. “I-I dunno’, I just…”

When Rodimus trails off, your grin fades. A dark, familiar feeling stirs within you. No, you couldn’t think that way anymore— Rodimus had changed. You and he had both agreed: you had started fresh now.

“I’m… glad to see you like this,” he finishes, and you release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You tilt your head, “What do you mean?” You had a feeling that this conversation was going to be a hefty one, so you took the opportunity to get comfortable— taking a seat upon the mech’s shoulder and dangling your legs off the side.

Rodimus struggles to find his words, stammering for a moment as he turns to look at you fully. “Not sure, I mean… seeing you happy, I guess.” When you offer another raised eyebrow and a disbelieving smile, the captain chuckles. “You know what I mean! Actually happy! And not in the way that’s just me imagining it cause I couldn’t understand you and was too worried about how cute you were.”

“What?”

“Uh— ignore that last part!” He scrambles to say, and you have to hold your stomach from how hard you ended up laughing. “Look, all this is to say is— I’m… I’m glad we’re okay now.”

Once you cool down, you look up into the mech’s blue optics and offer him a little smile of your own. “I am too. I mean, back before everything, I didn’t really feel like my own person anymore. You were nice to me, of course, but there were a lot of times where I felt… dragged along. Without any real regard for myself.”

Rodimus’ expression falls, and he looks at you with furrowed brows. “What do you mean?”

You absentmindedly fiddle with your hands as you go on, “Well, uh… take for example, that night we were going to sleep and you laid me on your chest? You might have not thought much of it, but in reality, I felt… kind of terrified.”

The captain began to slow as you spoke, and though you felt it beneath you, you didn’t let that stop you from continuing— even when he eventually came to a stop. “Your… your hand was directly on top of me and I was scared of waking you up and you putting me, like— on your neck or something,” there’s a slight chuckle to your words, but the memory still stings. You didn’t even realize you had long broken eye contact with Rodimus by now.

“But… then I felt your heartbeat underneath me, and that’s really what scared me. The fact that I’m so… small, compared to you. So small that even a natural function like that shook me to my core.”

You only manage to look up when you notice Rodimus wasn’t speaking. The sorrow you thought would be spread all over his faceplate looked more like… confusion, than anything.

“I’m sorry, ‘heartbeat’?”

You’re taken aback— you don’t think you’d have to explain something like that to him. Was he being serious? “Uh, you know. Your heart? Beats in your chest? Keeps you alive?” You pound your fist rhythmically to your chest a couple of times for good measure.

The captain only blinks. “Do… is that what you call your spark?”

“My what?”

“Your spark,” he repeats, as if it was common knowledge. “Beats in its chamber, keeps you alive.” He also pounds a servo to his chassis— the clanging metal vibrating through you and stinging your teeth.

“Okay, okay, point taken,” you laugh, and it warms your heart a little to see a smile return to Rodimus’ face. “But, really, do you get what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do. Again, I’m sorry I made you go through that,” he says earnestly, and you give him a nod of thanks. Then, a yellow servo rises before you— the mech had offered it as a platform beneath you. You gaze up at him questioningly, but when the only answer he gives is a tilt of his head, the only thing you can think to do to oblige him.

Slowly, you slide down from his shoulder and land in a crouch on his palm— and as you come to your feet, the mech brings you around and over near his chest. “In that case, I wanna’ ask,” he begins as he does so, “when I bring you near my chest at all in general, do you feel… as uncomfortable?”

Your eyes flick down from his face and over to his bright yellow chestplate. The stark red Autobot brand stares back at you.

“…no,” you decide, finally tearing your eyes away from his chest and back up to Rodimus. “No, when I’m just level like this, it’s fine.”

“Okay,” he says, and slowly, he pulls you in closer. His servo bumps against his chassis, but you’re still free to roam around in his palm. “And this?”

“No,” you answer, and with more confidence this time. Though you can hear the constant rumble of his engine churning within him, you didn’t feel put off by it. “This is fine too.”

Then, your world begins to shift around you. Rodimus’ hand tilts forward, and you have no choice but to lean your hands against his chest as you’re gently held against it. “And… this?”

You don’t respond as quickly as you did before. You didn’t even need to tune in and listen— the feeling was right there, throbbing and pulsing beneath you with just as much strength as you remembered. His heart— spark, you correct yourself— there, living within him. You feel your breath start to pick up in pace, and you nearly push yourself as far back as you can—

But then, you look upwards, and see Rodimus gazing at you. Listening intently for your next words.

You take a deep breath. “I… not for now, no,” you lightly push yourself off from his chassis and the captain takes the hint, pulling you up and away and bringing you back to his face. “Maybe… maybe with a little more time, though.”

Though you give him a smile to assure him not to worry, Rodimus’ concerned pout never changes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, “again, the last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable here ever again.”

You actually laugh at that, though you aren’t sure why. Rodimus— the mech who put you through the most uncomfortable scenarios all the way up until now— didn’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable again. It was… sweet.

“I know I don’t have to,” you reply, stepping forwards on his servo and closer to his face. You dare to land a hand on the tip of his nose, and though the mech blinks in surprise, he doesn’t pull back. Rather, he lifts one of his own hands and very gently places a thumb on the top of your head, running it down the back of your head in smooth, slow motions.

“But, with how we are now… I’m willing to try.”