Walk with me here. Imagine a world where TC faked his death to leave the Deceptions. At some point, Brawl ended up alone and injured so TC picked him up. However, as a former high ranking member of the Deceptions, Thundercracker figured he’d need a disguise or else his cover would be ruined. Unfortunately, the guy doesn’t exactly have access to fancy supplies and Brawl woke up before he could come up with something better. It’s a romcom with hidden identity, forced proximity, and extra slow burn!
And it will forever live in my mind cause I suck at coming up with real stories :)
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Make It Real chapter 3 - Brawl and Thundercracker's turn!
Read here or on AO3!
Thundercracker checked himself once more in the mirror. He didn’t know why he was putting so much effort in - he’d gone as far as to coordinate every aspect of his outfit, ensuring everything was free from lint and fuzz and dog hair. Buster was asleep on his bed behind him, sprawled out and snoring loudly. Her paws twitched as if she were chasing something.
He’d stayed up a bit too late having an everything shower - every inch of him had been scrubbed and moisturised. He’d used the good shampoo and the fancy shower gel, the one that smelled of honey. He’d even gone through great pains to go through the night time face routine that he usually only ever did before a big event – a milestone birthday, a wedding, big family gatherings, important meetings with clients at work – a kind of ritual for good luck the next day. Thundercracker didn’t quite know why he’d done it, his hands had just moved to the luxury versions of his usuals before he’d really registered what he was doing.
“Oh Buster.” Thundercracker sighed as he gazed into the mirror. “I’m putting in way too much effort here.”
Buster grunted in response, her paws twitching.
They’d not agreed on a place to meet, just that they were meeting at ten. It was quarter to now - should he start walking to his house? Or was Brawl going to meet him at his? What if they bumped into each other half way? After standing staring at his phone for a moment, he opened up his maps and found the coffee shop he was thinking of going to – somewhere that was of an equal distance between his house and the general area he knew he lived in – and sent him a quick message.
I’ll meet you here!
The phone was snapped shut and shoved into his pocket. Right. That would do it.
Grabbing his wallet and keys, casting one last look at himself in the mirror, he forced himself to leave the house, throwing his scarf around his neck after he locked the door.
The weather outside was nice. Brisk with an ever so slight nip in the air – the exposed skin of his ears prickled as a cold wind teased his hair, and he put his hands into the pockets of his coat to keep them warmer. It wasn’t supposed to be too cold, the day slowly warming up just past lunch time and staying warm until the next night – so it was nice to have the opportunity to go out into it outside of Busters walk. She’d had one that morning, Thundercracker half asleep as she’d eagerly dragged him around the block.
It’s a shame I’ll only be out for a little while. I don’t imagine this so called date will last for too long.
Thundercracker knew that he couldn’t lie to him. It was mean, it was cruel, and there was a part of him that hated Starscream for making him do it. Brawl had agreed to see him – one on one, outside of work, alone together – and the least he could do was to make it clear that he had no intentions of stringing him along. He’d make something up to Starscream. He’d think of something, he was sure. They just didn’t end up meshing no matter what he did, or Brawl was only interested in an arrangement that he had zero interest in participating in – the ideas were gently flowing to him, so he would manage. Starscream could stamp her feet all she wanted. It was ultimately on her to gain the backing of other heads of departments.
He got there first. The cafe was busy, a group of people having to queue at the door to get inside. Thundercracker stood off to the side and shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them warm and shifted from foot to foot to judge how long he had staying still in him before he was forced to abandon the wait and go elsewhere.
Brawl arrived only a few minutes later. Thundercracker felt his heart do a funny little dance in his chest when he saw him. The fact that this was a date was clearly doing things to his head, but he had to admit that the man could dress nicely when he wanted to. The air had a bite to it still and it nibbled at the man’s ears and his cheeks, the exposed skin flushed pink. Thundercracker couldn’t help but think that they were both dressed as if they were in different cities, his long dark navy blue coat stark against Brawl’s worn Khaki. Impractical vs utilitarian. It was the same one he always wore - it must have been a staple in his wardrobe.
And he smelled nice too. Wow. It was amazing how suddenly he didn’t seem so scary. Instead he seemed… nice? It was flattering that he seemed to have put effort in, his hair looking like he’d actually put some thought into how he styled it, and he’d changed his earrings to all be hoops that bounced as he walked.
I wonder if they hit his hearing aid? Can he hear that?
“Hey. Wait long?” Brawl asked, coming to a stop beside him.
“Just got here.” Thundercracker pointed back into the bustling cafe, the place full of people and of life. The sound of conversations spilled out into the street, audible even over the sound of passing traffic. “It’s super busy in there – we should just get something to go and find somewhere else.”
“Sounds good.”
His stomach tied itself up in knots as they stood in the queue, and he couldn’t think of anything they could idly discuss whilst having to shout to be heard. He needed to make it clear that this wasn’t a date before it was too late, so he’d buy Brawl’s coffee for him to pay him for his time and make sure that he didn’t lose out on anything and tell him when they were back outside, drink in hand. Hopefully he didn’t feel inclined to throw it at him – he was getting a cappuccino. That was going to hurt.
There was one thing Thundercracker knew Brawl to be, and it was brutally straight and to the point. It usually came with a sense of whiplash. Today, it was surprisingly…
“I’m gonna be honest with you, I didn’t send the text, Vortex did. She likes to meddle when she thinks it will entertain her.” Brawl said the moment they both stepped clear from the cafe.
Thundercracker stood there dumbfounded for a moment. And then-
“Oh, thank god.” He sagged in relief, a hand clutching his chest. “Starscream sent mine.” It was a slight lie - she’d only forced him to - but there wasn’t much difference between her hand writing it and his if he was being puppeted by her.
Brawl frowned in confusion. “Why’d she do that?”
“Because she’s completely delusional. I’ll be honest with you: she needs Onslaughts backing on something and thought she’d get it if we get chummy with each other.”
“Oh.” He frowned harder. “She’s not going to get it like that, Ons prefers other kinds of assurances.”
They stared at each other for a moment. They both rocked on their heels, looking at each other as they caught themselves and having to look away, Brawl badly hiding his snort into his coffee.
“Look, we’re both all dressed up anyway, it’d be a shame to waste it. Let’s go drink these at the park. There’s a really round pigeon there, have you seen it?”
It turned out that he had not, and so the pair of them found themselves together at the park. The pigeon liked to sit by the lake where people fed the fish and the ducks - local legend told that the pigeon had gained such mass through picking up the scraps they had left behind and the pieces that children couldn’t quite manage to throw.
There was something conspicuously missing about Brawl. He couldn’t quite place his finger on it – from the glances at him that he caught out of the corner of his eye nothing appeared to be missing except his signature scowl, but it was replaced more with a cross neutral as he drank his coffee.
Hmm.
There was a crunchy leaf on the path ahead of them. It looked perfect. Just the right amount of crisp crunch - it was sure to sound beautiful when it was stepped on. Brawl was right on the path to it - he glanced up at his face and saw that Brawl had already locked into it. Thundercracker quickly glanced down - yes! He was wearing the best shoes too! It couldn’t possibly go wrong.
They were both silent on the approach, their conversation hanging still in the air between them in anticipation of the leaf crunch. Every step Thundercracker felt the anticipation rising, and Brawl adjusted his gait slightly to make sure he stepped directly onto it and-
It didn’t crunch. More of a weak crackle, actually, the leaf deceptively soft. Both of their faces fell in disappointment, and Brawl glanced to look at him and see if he’d noticed.
They locked eyes, and Thundercracker couldn’t help but laugh.
“That was shit!” Brawl ground his foot into the leaf, breaking it into little pieces. “It lied to me!”
The pigeon was round, as promised. Brawl got to see it accost a child for their breakfast pastry, waddling after them at a sedate pace as the young child screamed and tripped up over themselves in their haste to get away. Thundercracker hid his laughter behind his hand, turning around so he wasn’t looking anymore. Brawl offered them no such comforts, pointing and openly laughing.
“Stop it!” Thundercracker hissed and swatted his arm. “You’re going to get us into trouble!”
They’d had to walk away. Brawl kept looking back over his shoulder and guffawing.
It wasn’t until he saw Brawl reaching up to rub at his nose that he realised what it was that was missing. Brawl wasn’t smoking – he hadn’t lit up once. Usually whenever he saw him outside he had a cigarette in his mouth. Once he noticed it, the feeling was quite jarring.
“You can smoke if you want to, by the way. I won’t be offended.” Thundercracker broached. He knew that Starscream could become a catty little bitch when she was denied nicotine and he wouldn’t put it past Brawl to either – it would have been a shame for their walk to end on a sour note if he wasn’t smoking out of being polite.
“Nah, I’m fine.” Brawl shook his head. “Only when I’m at work.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Because I’m not allowed to ask people if their ass is where their brain is meant to be.”
Thundercracker choked on his coffee.
“Seriously. It’s always the same people fucking up my day too - you’d think that they’d figure it out after the first time. I know I’m not the sharpest tool in the box but if even I can figure out these things they’ve got no excuse.” There was a pause. “I got banned from telling them to meet me in the car park.”
“What were you planning to do with them there?”
“Teach them a lesson they won’t forget.”
“I completely understand the cigarette breaks now.”
“You’d think these people would have some sense, but they really just don’t. Stupid. They’re all so stupid.”
“I think we’re surrounded by it.” Thundercracker grumbled into his cup. “You wouldn’t believe the things people say to me. Half of the things I get asked are in the email.”
“Ever think about quitting?”
Thundercracker thought of his laptop and the screenplays left unfinished, of Buster and the sound his coffee machine used to make every morning.
“All the time. I miss Buster.” He paused. “She’s my dog.”
“I know.” Brawl replied, his voice ticking up as if suppressing a laugh. “You kept showing me pictures of your daughter at the Christmas party.”
“Oh, god.” Thundercracker sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am so sorry.”
Brawl was badly suppressing his laughter now. “S’fine. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be the type of person to work here. Thought that you’d be gone in a month the first time I saw you.”
Had he been that obvious?
“Me neither.” Thundercracker replied. Honestly, I wasn’t meant to be here for as long as I have been. “Funny you say that though – I didn’t think you were the type either. The finance department? How’d you manage that?”
“Swindle likes keeping me around.”
Swindle. She was the head of Finance at Unicron Inc, wasn’t she?
“You must be pretty good at what you do then, I heard she can be quite tough.”
“I guess. Onslaught’s worse, he’ll ride your ass for the slightest thing.”
There was a lake up ahead where the path had two options; one took you around the lake and back into the forest on another walking trail. The other took you back towards civilisation; it was the natural conclusion of their little walk. Brawl’s cup had been empty for a while now and Thundercracker was just sipping on water tinged with the remnants of coffee now – they’d run out of an excuse. He felt a little sad about it, but that was ridiculous and he must have been misinterpreting the blue feeling in his chest.
The ducks making a loud racket had Thundercracker looking up and promptly experience ice cold dread. Up ahead was a very familiar figure, one that he on literally any other day would have been quite happy to see, but today? When he wasn’t alone? Dread. Horror. Anxiety unlike any other.
Oh shit, that’s Optimus – he must have been out on a walk with Hot Rod. Thundercracker felt his stomach suddenly drop out of his ass and he looked around for a diversion – anywhere to start being distracted by something for long enough for him to pass by and not have an excuse to stop and say hello like they usually did. Brawl wouldn’t recognise him, would he? He wouldn’t know. There wouldn’t be that suspicion, those looks of disdain when he realised that he was fraternising with the enemy. The rivalry between Megatron, his own CEO, and Optimus, the CEO of Primus Ltd, was well known and very well documented. It came up every time they had a press conference and he was goddamn sick of it – it had gotten to the point where there were certain parts of the city that they just didn’t go to because they would be there. Meeting people who you knew worked for Primus Ltd was awkward and made Thundercracker want to curl up into a little ball and hide. Why did this stupid rivalry even exist? It served no purpose except to make things horribly awkward. He hadn’t been able to go to that little theatre on the other side of the city that showed the foreign indie films in months. Ugh.
“Thundercracker!” Optimus cheerfully greeted him. He had one hand on a pram and the other firmly on a leash, Roller the Pomeranian joyfully walking along with his nose pressed against the ground. “It’s good to see you! How are you?”
“Optimus.” Thundercracker hoped his smile didn’t look too awkward. He didn’t know how to do this. “I’m fine thanks – uhm, have you met-?”
“At a conference a few months ago.” Brawl replied. He held out his hand all the same. Optimus released the pram and shook it.
“Oh! Right.” Riiiiight. Of course. Their world was shockingly small, wasn’t it? Of course they’d already met. But then that meant that Brawl definitely recognised him, and he definitely knew that he’d been fraternising with the so-called enemy. Was he the type to care? Fuck. He felt his palms sweat.
“It’s nice to see you again.”
Brawl made a sound of acknowledgement. Thundercracker chewed his cheek.
“How’s Elita doing?” He asked.
“She’s just fine – very much enjoying Thailand.” His eyes always shone so bright whenever he spoke about his wife. He quickly turned to Brawl. “Elita is my wife,” He went on to explain. “She’s part of our international division and travels a lot.”
“Thailand?” Thundercracker asked. Optimus tapped his nose.
“Secret.”
Aah. Work, not leisure. There must have been something going on there – no doubt they’d be hearing all about it soon.
“How is your screenwriting coming along?” Optimus asked, clearly moving the subject along. His eyes were always so warm when he asked that question. “Have you started anything new yet?”
“Not yet.” Thundercracker admitted. The crushing weight of his repeated failures and disappointment were starting to stifle his creative spirit, but he wasn’t about to admit that or even talk about that in front of Brawl. “But hopefully soon!”
“That must have been the little squirt he was talking about.” Brawl mused after Optimus had gone, Roller becoming bored of the lack of new smells to sniff and Hot Rod beginning to fuss at the lack of movement of his pram.
“You’re not going to tell anyone that I know him, are you?” Thundercracker nervously asked.
Brawl shrugged. “Not loyal to the big boss. I don’t really care what he has to say about it.”
It tugged in his chest and had him stirring his ice with the straw and loudly banging it together to give him something else to focus on.
“You wrote something?”
He had been hoping that Brawl wasn’t paying all that much attention. The man was, and now he was going to have to lay his failures bare.
“I write here and there - screenplays, that kind of thing. Just for fun.” It wasn’t worth getting into his complete failure of a career.
“What do you write about?” He curiously asked. He seemed to be… genuinely interested? Or was he just imagining that?
“You really want to know?”
“Wouldn’t’ve asked if I didn’t care.”
“The last thing I wrote was a film – a psychological thriller. About a hitch hiker.” He suddenly felt… awkward? He hadn’t been asked about his screenplays by anyone other than Optimus in so long that he didn’t know how to respond to the questions anymore. “It follows a group of people who picked up a hitch hiker who was more than they seemed. Ugh, it’s so annoying – I want to tell you but I don’t want to spoil it either!” He found himself laughing at the absurdity of it. “As if it’ll miraculously get picked up!”
“I’ll wait for it to get picked up, then – I’d watch it.”
“You’ll be grey long before anyone touches it.”
“Naah, I don’t think so. If they can pick up shit like Freddy got Fingered then you’ve got a great chance.”
“You’ve seen it?”
Brawl grimaced. “I do not want to talk about it.”
“Don’t blame you, it was a complete waste of my life. Do you watch a lot of films?” Were they establishing a common ground right now? Is that what this feeling of excitement in his chest was? Were they bonding?
Brawl shrugged again. His free hand was still firmly shoved into his pocket. “Anything I can get my hands on - I like stuff that I can watch. They’re good to have at the gym.”
“What’s your favourite kind of film?” Thundercracker curiously asked.
“Stuff produced by Alma Reville. You can tell where she’s been.”
He hadn’t been expecting that. He’d been expecting a completely different answer, and his jaw dropped.
“Right!?” He enthusiastically replied. “She’s just got this magic touch – anything she put her hands on turned to gold. I love her work.”
“I wish less of it was horror.”
“Not a fan?”
“No. Scary.”
“That’s the point, Brawl.” Thundercracker laughed. “You’re meant to get scared!”
He shook his head. “Naaah. Not a fan.”
“What’s someone like you got to be afraid of?”
“I’ll have you know there are many things I am allowed to be afraid of. Can’t punch a ghost.”
“You got me there.” He chewed his cheek for a moment, mulling over his next question. It was a loaded one, the show wickedly popular but not one that was easy to admit watching if you weren’t of a certain demographic. Swirling his drink again, he bit the bullet. Brawl was already surprising him – what could another surprise do?
“Do you watch As the Kitchen Sinks?”
Brawl looked at him suspiciously. He looked behind them as if checking for someone, his eyes quickly scanning the horizon. Satisfied that their only company was each other and a handful of ducks all swimming together very nicely, he turned and poked him in the chest.
“This stays between us, got it? I’ll know it was you if anyone finds out.”
“O-okay?”
“I love it.”
Thundercracker couldn’t help his excited little gasp. He knew it! Finally, there was someone he could talk to about it!! “Did you see the last episode? With the will?”
“Yes! And that stupid cliffhanger they left it on – who the hell is Bob?!”
“I know! I can’t believe I have to wait until next week for the next episode!”
“I don’t know when I’ll be able to see it.” Brawl groaned. “I got lucky with this one, clear house when it aired.”
“Your housemates don’t watch it?”
“Nope. I can’t watch it when the guys are home – they take the piss out of me for it.” Brawl was scowling. “It’s such a pain. I have to try sneak it, and honestly? I’d rather admit that I was watching porn.”
Thundercracker choked on his laughter, the sound of it frightening the ducks. “Jesus Christ, Brawl.”
It was a spur of the moment decision. He would probably come to regret it later when his brain caught up with him.
“You can come watch it at mine?”
“Huh?” Brawl stopped in his tracks and looked at him in surprise. Thundercracker felt his cheeks burn and started stammering.
“Well, I mean – we both like it and we both seem to like similar things, so…” He awkwardly stirred the remnants of his drink again. “The offer’s there. If you want it.”
Brawl seemed to be considering it. Thundercracker didn’t know which way he wanted it to go.
“Sure. Alright then. That sounds good, actually.” He was smiling now – Thundercracker felt his heart skip a beat and he found himself smiling back.
Brawl had come back home the day before 5 hours later than he said he’d be and almost on cloud nine. Apparently the not-date seemed to have gone amazingly well. Vortex had brightened up considerably at first, immediately probing for details. Had Thundercracker been just as down bad for him as Brawl was for Thundercracker? Did they go back to Thundercracker’s place and enjoy a very good day together? Had their date expanded from getting coffee to going somewhere – anywhere - to justify the five hour timestamp?
The answer was no; he’d just really enjoyed chewing the fat with him and they’d completely lost track of time. Vortex was devastated to find that the text had been sent by Starscream but she had absolutely no room to complain; she’d been the one to send Brawl’s text after all. It just cut her that it hadn’t just been her idea to mess with them – Starscream had stepped in and messed with Brawl too. That she could not abide.
He’d been in such a great mood. In a better mood than she’d seen him in a long time when she really sat down and thought about it.
So it was very unexpected when that motherfucking stupid little fucking switch in his bitch of a brain went off and he went and Drank About It.
“Get your shit together, Brawl.” Vortex roughly kicked him with her heel, digging it into the meat of his shoulder. “You promised. What’s Thundercracker gonna think? That you’re just some drunk bastard?”
It was a low blow and she knew it, but drastic measures were required - for every step forwards the man was taking he was seeming to take another step or two back, his progress stalling and even reversing. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair, especially when he’d been doing so well at trying to be more sober.
Brawl grunted and lifted his head to glare hotly at her. “Why bring up him? As if I give two shits.”
“Firstly, we both know that’s bullshit so don’t even try it with me. Second, big old words to use when your date was supposed to last all of twenty minutes and you were gone for five hours. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“I’m not thanking you for that.”
“Ungrateful.” She dug her heel in again. “Ons thinks I did well!”
Brawl snorted into the cool tile. “Go beg him for a pat on the head then.”
“I need you to acknowledge something good happened to you first, before you went and drank about it.”
He didn’t respond. He simply turned his face back around so that his forehead was pressed firmly to the tile floor.
Better than nothing. He’s not arguing over it this time.
She left him face down on the tile in the bathroom, marching down the hall and to the kitchen where the others were all in the midst of their morning routines. Blast Off was making coffees with the barista unit - something he had insisted on getting and that only he was allowed to touch, the other plebeians had to make do with the filter coffee unit - and Swindle was preparing her mug of breakfast tea as Onslaught read that mornings news. Vortex put her hands defiantly on her hips in the threshold, shaking her head.
“That man is going to be the death of me.” She dramatically announced. “Steer clear of the downstairs bathroom for a bit - he’s moping.”
“So long as he’s not making a scene.” Onslaught glanced at her over the top of his newspaper.
“Oh, let him.” Blast Off coaxed the steam wand into life, jug of cold milk ready to be frothed patiently waiting to the side. “I’m sure he’s disappointed enough in himself, he doesn’t need us piling on too.”
“Surely you’re not defending him?” Vortex coolly asked. Blast Off had once confided in her that he was scared sometimes that they’d go to wake him up and find him unresponsive - what had changed to make him fine with the behaviour that had put them into that position of fear? Surely he hadn’t stopped caring?
“Absolutely not.” Blast Off scrunched his nose. “More the fact that it’s not conductive to kick someone when they’re already down.”
“How else is he going to get it through his thick skull?” Vortex dropped herself down next to Onslaught, arms folded across her chest, and leaned against him to peer at the newspaper.
“I’ll speak to him when his brain isn’t trying to come out of his eye sockets.” Onslaught said with a note of finality. Three pairs of eyes flicked over to him.
Blast Off placed a mug of coffee down in front of Onslaught before sitting down diagonally across from him, and Swindle sat down opposite, slowly stirring her tea. Vortex procured an energy drink from somewhere and cracked it open, lazily poking at something in the newspaper.
“That incident downtown finally made it in. Wonder what took ‘em.” She commented before taking a sip from the still foaming can.
“The one with that guy in the corduroy?” Swindle asked.
It was benign chatter that Blast Off found to be quite dull, and he’d much rather have been smoking with his breakfast, so without a word he stood with his mug and walked upstairs and out onto the balcony that framed his room. He leaned against the wall beside his telescope and lit a cigarette, breathing in deeply and slowly exhaling as he watched the world go by below. Taking a sip of his coffee, he sighed in relief as it scratched an itch that had been humming in the back of his head since he’d woken up.
“I wondered where you’d gone.”
Blast Off glanced to the door. Onslaught was stood, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He looked back at the city and half shrugged.
“Had some fresh air I needed to turn stale.”
Onslaught moved to be next to him, reaching over to take the cigarette from him and having a drag of his own. He put it back between Blast Off’s lips before mirroring him and looking out over the slowly waking up city below.
“Thought you were going to quit?”
“Perhaps I’m softer on Brawl because I understand the difficulties.” It was a roundabout way of saying that he was struggling without outright admitting it. It was also an omission of the truth. If he didn’t smoke in the morning with his mug of coffee, then their little tradition wouldn’t continue.
The small moments together, the stolen kisses placed where his lips had touched the cigarette - they were too precious for him to lose, small crumbs of time together that weren’t his to take when he didn’t have anything to offer in return.
Onslaught left not long after the cigarette had burned its last. Blast Off returned his mug to the kitchen, quickly rinsing it before putting it into the dishwasher and pouring a fresh mug. It wasn’t for him - even he couldn’t stomach two coffees back to back when he was still in the process of waking up - but he figured Brawl would appreciate it.
He rapped his knuckles on his bedroom door - there was no way he was still face down in the bathroom - and opened it when he didn’t get an answer. Brawl was face down in his bed instead - a good start - and watched him put the fresh mug of coffee down next to the one that was already on his bedside table.
“What’s with you people and giving me coffee?”
“I figured you’d want it.” Blast Off said. “Mine’s the nice one. Be grateful.”
Brawl just grunted.
“I know you’ve already had it from Vortex and know that you’re going to get it from Onslaught too, so I won’t prod.” Blast Off crouched down next to him, arms folded. “Just make sure you’ve got a good answer. You were in a great mood when you got back.”
“Whatever.”
He was sulking like an overgrown child. His mouth opened to ask him about Thundercracker when something caught his eye - Brawl’s phone had fallen down between the bed and the bedside table, the screen facing downwards but the little LED by the camera was flashing signalling that he had a notification.
“Your phone’s flashing.”
“S’probably nothing.”
Curiosity burned and the feeling that it wasn’t just nothing burned brighter still. Blast Off reached forwards and picked it up, turning it around to look at the screen.
“Brawl, it’s Thundercracker.”
His eyes suddenly snapped open and he pushed himself upright. “What? No.”
“See for yourself.”
Brawl swiped his phone from his hands and squinted at the screen.
“Oh.”
Oh? Was that it? Oh???
Blast Off scowled at him. “You could stand to be happier about it.”
Brawl wearily looked at him. “I’m going to be sick.”
“It’s a good thing you haven’t got enough hair to hold back, because I won’t be doing it.”
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Thank you to everyone who followed me! I know 200 might seem like a small amount for some but for me this is huge! I’m glad that you all enjoy my art and am grateful for those that decided to stick with me even if though I don’t post very much. I really appreciate it so thank you again!
@vicethesniper13 I would say this :D but also a mix of :[ because I'm a very socially awkward person so I genuinely don't know how I should interact with you
I don't really have any mutuals I interact with so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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I made fanart based on a scene in "When You Go, What You Leave Is A Work Of Art" by V1ce_The_Sn1per13 (@vicethesniper13) on ao3. It's one of my favorite moments in it.
I also made fanart for their previous fic in the same series.
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In another world where there is no Cybertronian war, the biggest battle one must go through is fighting for the last Hot Wheels toy your pseudo grandchild wanted
Little do they know, it's for the same kid
Who would win?
Ratchet
Drift
Neither (a worker kicked them out of the Toys R Us)
This is totally how Jazz and Prowl first met. Source: Trust me bro
Picture this. Jazz is with the Autobots first, and he meets a neutral Prowl while on an undercover mission. Not many people get the reference, and even fewer can recite the name. So when Prowl was able to flawlessly say the name, he passed the vibe check.
