Is This A Prompt? May I Have It?

Hello! I saw you had writing requests open and was wondering if you’d do mine? It’s a human ghost that’s haunting IDW Rodimus, he doesn’t know where the hell it came from or what it wants but it’s just…stalking him. Following him around and babbling at him idly, sometimes getting angry or upset when Rodimus can’t understand it and then disappearing for awhile before reappearing and repeating it all over again.

The other bots slowly stop believing him when he says he’s being haunted, mostly because there is no evidence to support his claims. No one else has seen this ‘ghost’ but Rodimus, so he must be pulling weird prank or something. Right?

Anyways I thought it’d be funny if not slightly angsty depending on how you go with this

oh my god i am so sorry!!! i didn't see this at all!

but i absolutely love this idea! funny with a side of angst? count me in on this

I don't know how to describe this request, or if you still taking requests

But, what about a love story between Cody Burns and Priscila Pynch??

After all, is canon that Madeline went to jail but we don't know what happened to her daughter Priscilla. What if Priss was adopted by the Greene family and she started to have feelings towards Cody?

hi

yes i am indeed taking requests! if i am not, I'm sure I'll have a pinned post

i was never 100% on the ship between cody and priscila, but that does seem like a really cute idea!

this may be a fic i write one day

DAYS #3 FAVORITE SHOW(s) AND #4 TRAINING OF TMNTTOBER IN TWT! (they are training to fight while 12!mikey is perched on 03!mikey lol)

List here!

I love this so much, its so cute and so accurate (especially the last one lol)

💖💖💖💖

I put way too much effort into this ( based on this meme, it wouldn’t leave me alone until it was drawn — I am freee )

♡ asks ♡

 Do you have freckles? 

 Do you drink tea or coffee? How do you take it? 

What was the last song you listened to? 

Do you sleep on your back, stomach or side? 

Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? 

Do you prefer drawing or writing? 

What’s your ideal number of blankets to sleep with? 

What’s your favorite band/artist? 

When is your birthday? 

How tall are you? 

What color are your eyes? 

Who are five (or more) people you want to hug right now? 

Fears? 

What’s your favorite color? 

What’s your favorite season? 

Want any tattoos? What of? 

Want any piercings? Where? 

Who is the last person you texted? 

Do you have a best friend? How long have you been friends? 

What/who do you miss? 

How was your day today? 

How much sleep did you get last night? 

Do you believe in aliens? 

When was the last time you cried? Why? 

What’s your favorite decade? 

What are some seemingly childish things you like? 

What’s your favorite book? Or just one you’ve read a few times? 

How are you, really? 

Does it take you a long time to make decisions? 

What are you looking forward to in the near future? 

What are you looking forward to in the distant future? 

If you could go anywhere right now, where would you go? 

Do you sleep with your door open or closed? 

What’s your favorite flower? 

Do you currently have a squish? 

Do you like your middle name? 

Do you prefer dogs or cats? 

Do you have any phobias? 

Do you stay up late?

Do you like the beach? Do you prefer it sunny or cloudy? 

What’s your favorite cartoon? 

Tag 5 of your favorite blogs

Do you have siblings? How many? 

Who was the last person you said “I love you” to? 

Is there anyone you would die for? 

What do you need when you’re sad? 

Have you memorized your phone number? 

Who’s someone you can trust with your life? 

What does your last text say? 

Wild Card. Any question, ask away. 

thinking about a fic idea of Mirage constructing a human holoform to more easily blend in on missions and Noah developing a massive crush on his holoform, having a crisis about it and then realising that he’s in love with Mirage, holoform or no <:]

(also Mirage has been waiting for Noah to notice the whole time)

you may be thinking about good omens or xmen

But I, like the intellectual I am, was thinking about how Optimus Prime calls Ratchet old friend

"Old friend" is a gayass thing to call someone

Me frfr

me writing: i am a god and reality bends to my whims

me proofreading: im too stupid to be alive

Hey there! Hope you’re still taking prompt suggestions/requests, cause I got some for Kadewave!

Maybe Kade lets it slip to Heatwave that he considers him to be his best friend (possibly his first and only best friend he’s ever had, cause y’know, it’s KADE. He’s kinda hard to put up with). That word has a different, more serious connotation in cybertronian culture, and it might drive Heatwave to bare his spark to Kade to ask him to be his Amica Endura.

Or maybe one where one or the other (or both) are being a lil too possessive/protective in the face of danger or otherwise, and it makes them rethink how deep their feelings for eachother run!

hi there! yes i am still taking prompts

i absolutely love those ideas! and both have my head spinning with possibilities!

thank you for the request!

Slowly but Also Like All at Once

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7

noah diaz x mirage (cause i love them, your honor)

warnings: none except that it’s a little angsty and noah’s got a lot of feelings and he throws around some f-bombs

just a little angst-to-fluff reunion between the boyz

A static crackling fills the air for a moment.

“Yo, Sonic?”

Noah sighs softly as the incandescent lighting above flickers, carefully setting down his soldering gun before he reaches across the work table to grab the walkie-talkie.

“What’s goin’ on, Tails?”

One of the alley cats that usually hangs outside between the garage and the next building makes a noise that’s halfway between a hiss and a yowl, and when Noah looks over to the open window, his brows arch as he realizes it’s dark out already.

“Any sign of Knuckles?”

Noah frowns, pulling his gaze away from the window and over to the empty spot in the corner of the garage— the spot with the motor oil stain on the ground that Noah can never bring himself to clean up.

Even though it’s definitely high time. It’s been months.

He huffs out a soft breath of air, mentally cycling through the answers that are starting to feel almost programmed by this point.

Kris, he ain’t coming back.

Kris, he’s gone, man.

Kris, stop asking me shit I don’t have the answers to, dude.

Instead he goes with something a little more sensitive.

“Negative.”

Kris sighs loudly over the air and Noah almost smiles. Kris gets increasingly more frustrated the more he asks about it. But every couple of days, without fail, he asks.

And every time he does Noah has to look over at that spot of engine oil on the ground and feel his chest do a weird twisting thing that he really doesn’t like.

“Ma wants to know if you’re coming home for dinner tonight.”

Noah rips his gaze away from the empty corner and glances down at his watch.

Fuck, it’s late.

And he had promised to be there for dinner.

“Yeah, I’ma be there.”

He gets up, gathers the things he doesn’t like to leave in the garage overnight— his more expensive tools and some of the gadgets he’s working on fixing for people— into a cardboard box. He tosses the walkie-talkie into his backpack and throws it over one shoulder before he pulls his keys from one of the drawers and starts heading for the door. He’s almost there when the alley cat outside yowls again.

Noah pauses, the sound reminding him to shut the window before he goes.

He crosses the garage, picking up the pencil he’d forgotten behind on the table as he goes. He shoves the yellow No. 2 pencil between his lips and balances the box in his hands with one hand so he can reach up to shut the window and lock it. He sees a dark little shadow scurrying back and forth down in the alley and rolls his eyes as he turns to head for the exit.

Crazy fuckin’ fur ball.

He steps outside then sets the box down right next to him so he can lock up after himself, still rolling the pencil between his lips and digging his top teeth into the shaft, making little indents as he hums softly— probably some tune he’d heard on the radio earlier.

When the door is locked, he shoves the keys into his pocket and turns, bending slightly at the waist so he can reach down and pick up his cardboard box. Only, he stops short— still kind of bent over— when he’s suddenly swathed in a beam of light and he realizes there’s a car parked not four feet from both him and the garage’s doors. Which is strange because almost everyone in the neighborhood knows Noah’s garage has got those old-fashioned swinging doors instead of the sliding ones.

Noah straightens and shields his eyes from the bright headlights keeping him from being able to see if he can recognize the car.

What kind of fucking dumbass leaves his car parked halfway into the street anyway?

The headlights blink off, almost as quickly as they’d come on, and it takes Noah’s eyes a second to adjust.

Wait…

He knows that car. He knows that silver paint and he knows those blue stripes.

That’s not a car at all.

“Miss me, baby boy?” a sly voice rings out from inside the cabin after a brief crackle of radio static.

Noah’s lips part in surprise and the pencil drops silently to the ground, rolling away a few feet before coming to a slow stop.

“Mirage—” Noah gasps out softly, utterly stunned. “You’re…”

He trails off, not sure what to say.

Last time he’d seen the autobot, Mirage had been deathly silent, still stuck in the form of the suit of armor he’d transformed himself into in order to protect Noah during the battle in Peru.

Now?

Now the cybertronian looks completely restored. Shiny and sleek, sporting a fresh coat of paint and looking exactly like he did the first time they’d met— when Noah had tried to boost him from that garage.

“Here? Back for my boy? The sexiest bot on the block?” Mirage lists off and before Noah can even think to reply, the mech goes on. “Yes to all but especially that last one.”

And Noah, he’s not usually the type of person to give into his emotions so quickly— being ex-military, it was just kind of always ingrained into him to shove emotions aside and focus on the task at hand— but something about seeing Mirage again, hearing the bot speak in that energetic little drawl of his, it does something to Noah.

His chest does that twisting motion again.

But it doesn’t necessarily feel like a bad thing this time around.

“Fuck, man,” the words are exhaled shakily. “I…”

Noah’s not sure why his thighs are suddenly feeling kind of numb or why his knees are threatening to buckle but they must be doing some kind of trembling because Mirage takes note.

“Whoa, hey,” the words ring out clearly from the radio as the mech’s altmode inches forward so the Porsche’s front bumper can steady Noah’s unstable legs. “Didn’t think I’d have you swooning over me this fast.”

Noah is still in a well enough frame of mind that the joke registers and he puffs out a short breathy laugh even as he reaches out to place both hands on the warm surface of Mirage’s hood, to not only help stabilize himself but also to kind of prove to himself that this is real, that it’s really happening.

That Mirage is back.

That Mirage hadn’t just forgotten about him.

That the last time he’d seen Mirage get taken away by Arcee and Bumblebee hadn’t been the last time he’d ever see his friend.

That Optimus Prime’s parting words weren’t true.

“Optimus, please,” Noah begs, completely unashamed, his eyes full of tears as Bumblebee carries Mirage away, followed by a sullen Arcee who keeps glancing over her shoulderpad at Noah. “Please, just let me try, man! I can fix him.”

“I am sorry, Noah,” the gruff leader of the autobots tells him, a new sympathy that hadn’t been there in any previous words spoken between them present in the tone of his voice. “But Mirage is in a state you cannot help him out of.”

“I can try!” Noah argues, stomping his foot like a child as the speed of his beating heart continually increases the further Mirage is carried away from him— it kind of feels like the organ is trying to rip itself out of his chest, almost as if he’s going to have a panic attack. “Man, please—! Please, let me help him. I… I owe him that much.”

“You have my gratitude for all you have done to aid us, Noah,” Optimus tells him with an air of finality that clearly means none of this was ever up for any debate. “Primus willing, we will not meet again.”

Noah shakes his head violently, wishing he could physically beat the memory away with a baseball bat.

Mirage’s radio emits a quiet, inquisitive whizzing sound.

Noah’s entire body shudders in response.

“Shit, I missed you, man,” he confesses finally, as Mirage’s engine purrs underneath the palms of his hands. “I thought… fuck.”

He’d thought he wasn’t ever going to see Mirage again.

He’d thought Mirage was dead.

He’d thought…

The Porsche’s driver-side door swings open with a soft click.

“Wanna ride?”

Noah honestly doesn’t think he’ll ever say no to that question.