“Let’s Put A Smile On That Face!" -Joker

• Stalking through his home, a sparkling under each arm, he spots you and Rumble at the counter with his oldest son and Soundwave hesitates watching you encourage him as he carefully shapes treats for the younger sparklings. And he growls when two of his daughters and another son run past, optics lined in black paint and he knows Frenzy had a hand in that. Venting, he walks over to you and hopes there’s not paint everywhere.

• Stretching, hands pressed against your lower back, you glance at where Ravage is sleeping with your youngest daughter sprawled against her. Hadn’t imagined anything like this when Soundwave had taken you. Honestly, you’d been sure he hated you. Feel Rumble bump your shoulder with his and you look down at your son’s focused little face as he makes energon flowers. And the older mech smiles before his head lifts and you have to reach to take a kid in self defense when Soundwave hands you one of your sons, the younger sparkling’s mouth opening with a tired chirp against your neck.

• Rumbling as he stares at you standing there holding one of his younglings, he hears Rumble mutter about needing a bigger home as he takes the sparkling from you and your face flushes, scent shifting when he vents. And he’s stalking you as you retreat, your oldest son startling when Rumble takes over helping with the prep work. “Soundwave,” you say, tone amused as he growls. “I thought we were done. We agreed.” And you hear Lazerbeak laughing at that from his perch out of reach of grabby sparklings.

• Engines snarling as he enters the kitchen, the two teenage humans that were whispering with their heads close both startle. “Suck face after your shift,” Thrust growls as they both flush. “You’re here to feed the hungry, not try to make more humans.” Optics narrowing as they both hunch, trying to busy themselves, he clears his vents. “Those are your people out there. Hungry and counting on you.” Pointing imperiously at the door to the main lobby, he watches the two scurrying before he turns his stare on the older man who’s supposed to be supervising. And failing at it. So he’d taken over. Someone had to.

• It doesn’t take much to scare off the man and Ramjet watches him as he wanders over to the other side of the lobby where the rest of the volunteers are busy working. Where you are. Glancing over at you, he makes a slow circuit while keeping an optic on you. Asking if the humans need anything and making sure no one’s bothering you. This place reminds him uncomfortably of Cybertron before the war. Of the stark line between those that had enough and those who had nothing. He’d seen it. Had only been spared living it because of his altmode.

• “It gets better,” Dirge murmurs as the man slowly nods and he tries to gauge the human’s age. Not quite an adult. At least he doesn’t think so anyway. It’s hard to tell with aliens. “It might seem like this is never ending, but it’s not.” Hadn’t known what to make of humans actually seeking him out, wanting him to talk them down. But apparently his serious voice is calming according to you. Grounding.

• Flustered, he has no idea how to respond to how aggressive you are, your field buzzing him with your blatant interest as you smile innocently. Wouldn’t you prefer someone more fun? Someone who can play and tease like you want to. But even as he thinks it, a part of him hates the idea of you flirting with someone else. Smiling and trying to win someone else over. Likes being seen and noticed. Remembered. That feeling hums through him like a plucked chord to make his spark ache.

• Maybe you broke him. He’s not answering you. Just venting softly as he shakes his head. Tugging at your trapped wrists, it’s a surprise when he lets go. Moving slowly, you reach up to remove his lenses and smile hesitantly. Aware that he could just not be into organics. Or maybe it’s just you. You’ve had people tell you your whole life you’re too much. Smile going shaky and insecure, you hate feeling like that. Like you can’t be yourself because people don’t want to deal with the real you. That you have to pretend to be normal.

• You’re staring at his lenses, avoiding meeting his optics as you keep smiling even though it’s strained. “The first time I saw you take these off, you had this little, self deprecating smile on your face,” you say slowly before inhaling. “Just standing there by yourself surrounded by other Cybertronians who weren’t talking to you or even noticing you.” And you shrug slightly. “I thought you were handsome, but more than that, I thought you were as alone as I was.” Watching you smile faintly, the loneliness in your voice echoes in him.

• Embarrassed to admit that, you shrug as your eyes burn slightly and you force a smile. “But it didn’t hurt that you’re hot as homemade sin without these,” you add, trying to play off the uncomfortable feeling of vulnerability. Of admitting that you’re lonely and you’re sick of feeling this way. And servos touch your fingers, cupping your hand as he takes his lenses back. His touch lingering, servos intertwining with your fingers as you smile, still unable to meet his optics.

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• Exhaling slowly, you sink deeper into that flow state where it’s only you and the rush of adrenaline. The certainty that you won’t miss a handhold, won’t overthink the next move because it’s as natural as breathing. And it feels real, electric and free in a way that you need. Bending to grip the ring in both hands, you let your lower body hang as you slowly spin. Letting the burn in your arms settle into a familiar, welcome ache. Missed this feeling. That breathless shiver of real fear right before leaping. Shrugging off the numbness of going through your day, going through the motions on autopilot.

• Watching your body move, he realizes you’re dancing on air. As close to flying as your kind can come before you’re swinging yourself, eyes fixed on the next ring. And it’s too far away. Farther than the first one. Trust. You’d asked him to trust you, to let you play, but it’s so hard when a miscalculation might break you. How can you be so bold? So fearless? You’re somehow more unreal right now, ethereal and unknowable. Frame heating as you leap, your body twists to catch the next ring.

• Catching yourself one handed, the ring spins dizzyingly as you twist to recline against the curve, a leg securing yourself. Nothing else really makes you feel like this, like there’s fire in your veins consuming you. Wanting to burn if it means feeling like this. It’s an electric feeling. A rush of being alive as your head turns to meet his visored optics in snatches as you keep spinning. What does he think of this? He’d not seemed happy when you’d asked him to set this up, but he hadn’t denied you either. Maybe he can’t understand this need. You can’t really put it into words yourself.

• “Thank you,” he rumbles, still embarrassed every single time you wash him. “Are you okay?” He asks hesitantly when you huff out a soft breath, a hand against your lower back and the other on the swell of your stomach that’s a lot more obvious without the outer covering hiding your form. ‘Yeah, this kid is just draining my energy,’ you say, still smiling and he hesitates. A human youngling is troubling you? “Do you need help with this kid?” He asks and you wrinkle your nose at him, hand cradling your belly.

• He’s so stinking adorable. And he looks so absolutely puzzled, that you’re pretty sure he has no clue what you’re talking about. Probably doesn’t even know where baby humans come from. Or what a baby is. Grinning at him to make him frown slightly, an audial shifting back slightly, you stretch out your legs. “Honey, you realize I’m pregnant, right?” You ask and he freezes, an audial flicking, his expression telling you that no, he didn’t know.

• You’re grinning at him as his optics drop to the swell of your belly, confusion threatening to drown him. Is that why you’ve been so set on courting him? Are you looking for a sire for your offspring? And you’d picked him. Honored and overwhelmed, he’s not sure what to say. Because you’d already been so vulnerable, but now, he’s even more as cutely aware of how fragile you are. That there’s Decepticons far too near you and your offspring. Wait. What if that sparkling is his? Is that how humans reproduce? Some kind of weirdness that only requires skin contact? Or maybe you just reproduce asexually and take a partner for recreation? “I have questions,” he murmurs and you grin. “A um, a lot of questions.”

• Looking up from where you’re sitting on your cart, leg idly bouncing, you freeze when you see one of them headed your way. Standing slowly, you try to keep your expression professional and to not grin like an idiot. Had always just known aliens were real and getting to work with them? You’re loving it. Especially the rumors you’ve been hearing about the aliens getting their signals crossed when it comes to the caretakers. Because maybe, you consume paranormal romance like you need it to live and maybe, you’ve fantasized about the giant mechs, the size difference between them and you leaving you flustered. “You mine?” He growls and you shiver. Yes, please.

• “If you want me, sir,” you purr, voice dipping and those eyes run over him in a slow, interested perusal that isn’t at all what he’d expected. Knows he’s heard rumors about the mainland Cybertronians taking human conjunxes, but thought it was just that. Rumors. Except, you’re checking him out to make his fans click on. “Do you want me?” Doesn’t know how to respond as you just smile up at him, waiting for his answer. Is this how the others ended up courting human mates? Hadn’t expected a human to go after him and it’s almost scandalous. Had never considered himself into aliens or xenophilia, but there’s nothing wrong with a little curiosity. With taking what’s freely offered and blowing off some steam with a willing stranger.

• “If I do?” He rumbles, that deep voice almost predatory as his head tips slightly, optics sliding over you. “Would you take good care of me?” That voice shivers through you, heats your blood. Definitely wants this one. There’s no rule saying not to fraternize with the aliens. Or fuck them. They’d pretty much just said to take care of them and keep them happy. It’s the happy part you’re focused on. Because that’s up to interpretation and happy endings should count. Especially if it means claiming and keeping your own Cybertronian lover.

• That smile on your face is pure sin, revving him up as his engine rumbles. “I’d take such good care of you, that I’d ruin you for anyone else,” you tell him, playing with the tiny zipper on your coveralls. And ruining sounds like a plan. Because you’re surpassing his expectations so far, flirting freely. Had only thought he’d get a bath, a bit of pampering. But it sounds like you’re offering him a lot more and he hopes this isn’t just a misunderstanding, because he wants to take you up on the offer so bad. They’re big, damn heroes, they deserve to be recognized for it. To get a little something in return.

• Watching his adopted sparkling whine and struggle to reach the toy, he clears his vents and pulls in the scent of the youngling and you. And even if you haven’t actually accepted him as your conjunx, you will. Knows you see him, have to realize he’s your best prospect. The fact that you’re trusting him with your young now is telling. Officially, you’re still stringing him along, making him work for it, but you’re his. Had decided as soon as he’d seen the sparkling, as soon as that tiny form had woken a hunger in him for his own.

• Looking over when your son squeals, you go still watching Megatron use the side of a servo to gently nudge your son. Helping him sit up with a care that’s so strange from a being so big. And he’s lowering the bunny into your son’s arms as he keeps that servo hooked behind him to keep your baby from tipping backwards. Eyes dropping to your reports, you can’t help but feel suddenly guilty. Know it’s your job to spy on him, but it doesn’t sit right with you. Slowly tearing out the sheet of paper with your notes on his behavior and motivations, you crumple it up and shove it into a pocket as you stand.

• Head turning as you approach, he fully expects you to take your son away. It’s what you usually do when you decide he’s too close. Or that he’s spent too much time near the sparkling. But instead you sit down crosslegged behind your son, legs brushing the back of his servo. Meeting your eyes, he slowly withdraws his hand and you lay your own on his servo to stop him. “Decided?” He asks, hating that he cares about the answer and you huff out a little breath, tugging the stuffed animal’s ear out of your son’s mouth.

• Smiling as her plating ruffles slightly and settles, you pull your cart into the stall. “I’m not,” she counters gruffly, spinning to kick out a leg. You’d give anything to move like that. To be that comfortable in your own skin. Certain. “You’re in my colors,” she notes and you fidget with your sleeve, embarrassed. Wondering if she likes it. Or if she finds it annoying. ‘Do you mind?’ You ask, hands smoothing away imaginary wrinkles, unable to be still. And your heart beats faster when she looks over at you, optics giving you a once over.

• Venting because you look so hopeful, she rumbles. “They suit you,” she mutters. Knows you’re after a conjunx. That you follow her around like a shadow, lonely eyes watching her. Sometimes you open your mouth like you want to say something, but you never do. Like you’re afraid to admit what you want. But that’s no way to live. Can’t make herself chase you off, though. Can’t crush your hope.

• “Could you teach me to do that?” You ask, though it’s not at all what you want to ask. The real question too dangerous to actually say out loud. Stuck wanting and watching because you might be turned down. And she looks back at you. ‘To fight?’ She asks incredulously and you nod even though you’re afraid you’ll be awful at this. Unteachable. You might end up bruised even if she’s gentle with you. But if it means she’ll spend more time with you? That you’ll have an excuse to be around her outside of work? You’ll take getting knocked down.

• Exhausted, he leans heavily on Sideswipe as the bigger bot supports him. On his other side, the young sniper, Bluestreak looks shell shocked. Not talking at all as he follows them. He’s seen Blue do that before, though. Knows he’ll snap out of it and start nervously babbling again eventually, but the silence is eerie. Sunstreaker and Trailbreaker hurt badly enough they’d been taken to medbay. Since he can still stand, he’d been told to walk it off. “Sunny’s going to be fine,” he tells Sides and it breaks the red bot out of his own silence.

• “Yeah. I know,” Sideswipe murmurs as Bumblebee reaches to open his door. Leaving the other two in the hall to stagger inside and just wanting to slump against the door as it closes behind him. Wanting to rest even as the nerves catch up and rattle through him. It’s your soft gasp that brings his head up. Your little hands over your mouth and eyes wide. Does he look that rough? He must. “Bee! What happened?”

• That stuff all over him, it’s energon isn’t it? His or someone else’s? He’s staring at you and then he smiles. Trying to put you at ease when he’s obviously hurt. “Hey, you should see the Cons,” he says, grin widening before he winces and touches his jaw. Coming over and sitting in the floor with his back to the desk. “I’m fine.”

• Feels you touch the top of his helm and almost panics when you slide off the top of his desk onto his head. And then you’re stretching out on your belly to lean your head out and scowl upside down at him. Freezing so you don’t slide off and because he’s shocked that you’re touching him on purpose. “You’re not fine. You’re bleeding.” Worrying about him as his spark aches that you care. Reaching up, he carefully picks you up a dismayed sound escaping him as his servos smear energon on you. “You’re going to medbay.”

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• “I ought to lock him in alt mode for a week,” Ratchet mutters. “For being careless.” Hear Bumblebee’s weak ‘hey, now’ of protest as his head turns sideways to stare at you. Making you uncomfortably aware of the way he’s smiling at you. Like he’s happy to be in Medbay getting poked and prodded. Because you’re there. Not sure how you feel about the warmth spreading through you at that stupid grin, you pointedly ignore him in favor of watching Ratchet work. So maybe he’s growing on you. So what? You’re still here against your will. Even if it’s not his fault.

• “You love me, admit it. You were worried,” he teases since you’d started it. Grinning when you scoff at him, looking everywhere but at him and he knows he’s right. That anger of yours at the situation no longer aimed right at him. Accepting that it wasn’t his fault, that he’d been trying to help. There’s still guilt about trapping you in the Ark, there probably always will be, but he likes it better when you’re not actively blaming him.

• Love? Yeah, right. “I was only worried they might stick me with someone worse if you die on me.” Because in all honesty, he’s not so bad. It’s not like anyone you’d dated in the past was ever half so attentive unless they wanted something. Since sex is so far off the table to be laughable between your species even if he had the necessary parts, it’s hard to keep your guard up. Having decided he’s just lonely and he likes having you about. Having someone to talk to. And you might like talking to him, his optimism wearing you down.

• “You care. You like having me around.” Grinning when your face flushes and you shake your head in denial, too flustered and embarrassed to come up with a retort. And teasing you? Watching you get aggravated with him, but not truly angry? It’s nice. Being on the smaller side means getting forgotten or left out sometimes among the Autobots. Knows that and fully intends to make sure that it doesn’t happen to you even if he gets on your nerves. Because he likes having you beside him and can’t help reaching after you even if he’s getting on your nerves.

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• “Great,” you say as he walks past a red and white bot you don’t know that stares at you and then hurries past. That one doesn’t like humans you guess. Gripping a ridge on his helm for leverage, you stand and grab one of the horns on Bee’s helm to make him make a funny little noise, both hands lifting worriedly. “I’m not going to fall,” you reassure him, looking around at the giant bots going about whatever their weird alien business is. And you’re definitely getting some funny looks from several bots. “Most of you don’t really like humans, huh?”

• Gritting his denta before forcing a smile you can’t actually see, he vents. “That’s not it exactly.” And he has zero interest in explaining that they’re staring because they’re speculating on if he’s fragging you because of Megatron’s stupid message. Everyone that doesn’t have a human to care for is assuming everyone that does is fragging theirs. A rumor he’s almost positive Red Alert started with his paranoia. “It’s just weird right now.”

• Arm up to cling to his horn as he walks, you’re definitely picking up a vibe. There’s some tension in the way other bots are looking at you two or deliberately avoiding looking at you. “I like weird. Spill.” Because if you’re going to be gawked at like they think you’re going to do a trick, you’d like to know why. Or is it more like your very presence is scandalous? Xenophobia? “Spill. I’m not going to let it go until you do.”

• Of course you’re not. Grimacing when Beachcomber and Warpath walk by and Beachcomber starts venting roughly to badly disguise when he whispers ‘think they’re fragging?’ He groans, because you’re pressed against the side of his helm, neck craning to watch them go. Knows it’s coming, but still wants to hide his face in his hands when you tap against his helm with a finger and ask ‘what’s fragging’ loud enough Prowl and Hound both look at you. Just wishing the floor could open up and swallow him at this point when Hound starts laughing and Prowl scowls. Can he actually die of mortification? Because it feels like it’s definitely possible and it would at least get him out of having to explain that to you.

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• Shying away when your giant’s companion stretches a servo toward you and yours growls at him, you hope that your guy telling this giant about you means the new one is trustworthy. Because you’re pretty much helpless to their whims, something you’re painfully aware of. “I trust you big guy,” you whisper, nose wrinkling when his buddy makes soft, repetitive noises at you. Is he making psst psst sounds at you like you’re a stray cat?

• Pleased despite himself when you ignore Orion’s attempts to coax you closer, he reaches in and cups his hands around you, lifting you free of his locker. “Of course they’re a mini-con. They’re Megatronus’s mini-con,” he says as he cradles you close, listening to you chirp as you make yourself comfortable in his hands. ‘You sure? I’ve never heard of Megatronus Prime having a mini-con,’ Orion says, reaching to touch you and you lift a tiny hand like you’re ready to swat him. So fierce for being so small.

• Smacking at his friend’s servo when he reaches to nudge your helmet, you don’t relax until your giant turns slightly to put himself between you and the newcomer with a rumbling growl that you really hope is him telling the other one off for poking at you. Because yours has been so incredibly gentle with you, and this other one is smiling crookedly down at you like you’re a curiosity. As yours cups you to his chassis and says something to his companion, you really wish you knew what was going on. For all you know, your guy is trying to give you away to this guy. Suddenly afraid, you reach out to pat his chassis until he looks down at you. How do you mime ‘Please don’t leave me with this stranger?’

• Rumbling in amusement when you flap your tiny hands about, chirping and pointing at yourself, him, and Orion. At Orion a lot. Clearing his vents loudly, he’s not surprised. Everyone always likes Orion better, he’s friendlier, easier to get along with, the one that’s better at understanding others. Mildly hurt that even you prefer Orion, he starts to hand you over and you screech at him. Grabbing onto his servos and fussing at him, flailing a hand at Orion as if to fend him off. Not wanting to go to Orion. Choosing him and he cradles you even closer, servos sliding over you until you calm. ‘I don’t think they like me,’ Orion says with a frown as you chirp aggressively.

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Next

Someone had asked about scales and minis, so there’s a few different scales, but 1/24, 1/12, and 1/6 are pretty common

1/24 would be like the Rolife super creator kits. That stuff scales well with the tiny Defender Blokees and comes with a ton of stuff in each kit

1/12 is a super common dollhouse scale and works well with Galaxy class Blokees. You can find that stuff at hobby stores pretty cheap.

1/6 scale is pretty big think, the Re-Ment minis. Those work for Flame Toys or similar sized figures like the studio series Bumblebee Movie Soundwave

• Shifting guiltily on his peds, because that nightmare had been so visceral and he knows he shouldn’t have interrupted your recharge. But he’d dreamed the Decepticons had found out about you and taken you from him, from all of them. That Megatron had destroyed you for distracting them from their duties. And your hair is messy as you just blink at him to make him feel even worse for waking you. “Come on,” you mumble, sitting up slightly and you’re dressed in that thin covering that makes him uncomfortably aware of you as he eases into your room and stretches out on the floor against your padded berth. Hears the bed squeak as you wiggle to the edge. “Here.” Doesn’t really need the pillow you’re holding out, but it’s soft and scents of you when he takes it and vents against it.

• Propped up on an elbow as he holds the pillow to his face and vents, before slipping it under his head and lying down, you’re not sure what made him mass shift and come in the house. Didn’t think he could actually fit in here at all and you wonder how he wiggled through the doorway, imagining him awkwardly twisting and playing Tetris with his frame to get inside. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says suddenly and you frown. You’re not planning on it, but something about the way he says it snags at you. Voice almost worried. Do alien robots dream? Maybe he had a nightmare?

• “Want to talk about it?” You ask and his visor dims. Embarrassed to admit to the dream, that he needed to see you right now, reassure himself you’re okay. And when he doesn’t answer, you stretch out an arm, little hand brushing his shoulder. Doesn’t hesitate to reach, intertwining his servos with your warm fingers and curling his frame around your hand. “You can come up here if you want,” you add and he freezes.