Last week I think? Pom brought up that they had read something about lawyers jogging to help with anxiety and that they could see Benny doing that which I heckin’ LOVED the idea of, so I went out and read a thing about lawyers also meditating to help with stress, so all of that combined with the already existent headcanon of mine that Benny is made of pipe cleaners and duct tape (read: flimsy as all heck) resulted in me writing this little ditty.
Just a shortish one-shot that I’ve been calling “Benny Jogs to Taco Bell” even though a more accurate title would be something along the lines of:
“Benny Tries to Run from his Problems but is Harshly Reminded that he is his Own Problem Most of the Time (also Oliver is there)”
Contains fluff, doctors doing doctor things, and lots of robots being robotic. Rated PG-13 tops probably, fic below the cut, rip mobile users. 1800 words. Not the best thing I’ve ever written, but I still like it, so enjoy. I don’t think there’s any applicable trigger warnings since they’re all robots?
Let everyone know- A Takashi Ninagawa (Scandal in the spotlight) smut shot! WARNING: Jealous/Possessive/Yandere Takashi!
orbs widened, staring at your usually quiet boyfriend in shock as he pinned you
against his bedroom couch, ignoring the lyrics sheet you have earlier brought
over to him for a recheck that now laid on his coffee table dismissively. His
beautiful bright orbs were unreadable as they stared straight into yours, as if
waiting for you to resist, trying to leave his arms.
Second installment of the Castiel series “Under The Spotlight” (that link will take you to the first installment. To read summaries of the installments of the series itself, check out the “The Story Continues…” page.) requested by anon! Please read “Under The Spotlight” if you haven’t already, but do be warned: it contains smut. This imagine has been edited for reposting to add details to my old writing. Hope you like it!
The sun beat warmly against the back of your neck, your face buried in the heated leather upholstery the Impala was famous for, the material smooth from years of wear and meticulous car by the Winchester family. You were travelling with your brothers to an unknown location far away from the motel where you had been discovered with your angelic lover, much to their fury, silent rage polluting the calm atmosphere from both the front and back seats, jaws rigid all around words bottled between pursed lips as if one spoken thought would blow this powder-keg of a car sky high… which was likely to happen. The only sound came from the rolling rubber tires on the asphalt beneath the vehicle, the occasional sigh disrupting the stale air within the Impala, tension thick enough to wrap your hand around, the discomfort and anger of every passenger as tangible as the seat belt was nylon. You had been torn from your boyfriend Castiel kicking and screaming the entire way, your angel’s life threatened by your eldest brother at angel blade point, should he dare come looking for you. You were never one for sappy romances, yet you found yourself thrown headfirst, and against your will, into some Hollywood knock-off rendition of “Romeo and Juliet,” much to your disliking. You were guarded like the most valuable crown gem day in and day out, your bedroom door (if the brothers bothered to stop the car for more than an hour at some distant truck stop) picketed by either Sam or Dean, the latter of which being more likely to stand watch, ensuring your lover never swooped through a window to visit you and fill your night with lust and, in Dean’s eyes, gory carnage. Sam and Dean took shifts patrolling about with angel blade bullets at the ready, cartridges snapped in and out of place as they waited, their deft fingers fiddling with their weaponry to pass the time, a hollowing sound that could herald your lover’s death. Never in your life have you felt so uncomfortable, no matter the level of privacy sharing motel rooms implied, no matter the strangeness of being a younger woman living with older brothers or, eventually, having one of the previously mentioned brothers storming in while your lover was quite literally in the heat of making love to you… nothing had ever, or would ever, compare to the atrocity of your current predicament, a sinking weight in your stomach serving as a constant reminder of Castiel’s absence.
There were ways of working around your separation that even the most skilled hunters, such as the Winchesters, couldn’t prevent. Castiel wasn’t exactly standing idle while you were whisked away, though he mindfully kept his dstance, mostly because you had requested he do this. The angel had suggested he apologize, but you knew no words from his mouth would amount to a stillness in the storming waters of your relationship; all his presence would earn him here was a bullet (or seven) to the chest. Chivalry wouldn’t fly with tempers this high. He came to you in your dreams, somewhere even the Winchester men could not infiltrate, his smile fading in noticeable decibels day by day as your separation ran his emotional well-being thin, though he made sure to at least put in the efforts to appear happy. In your dreams, he would apologize again and again, so harsh on himself, as if he was solely responsible for your punishment, though time and time again you reminded him that your little escapades required that two people to take part, though the blame remained perched atop his wings, weighing his shoulders down with guilt. You argued that your actions weren’t wrong or bad or deserving of punishment, death threats, the whole nine yards, but his sorrow could not be mended while you were this far away from each other. Castiel, you feared, was breaking apart like a fallen porcelain doll, each day forming a fissure that would eventually cause the pristine material to cave in. At the end of each night, his apparition would press a tender kiss to your forehead, and by the time his hands left your cheeks, you would wake, met by the reality of your ongoing nightmare. You hadn’t said a word to your brothers since they threw you into the backseat and drove away, leaving their friend looking deflated, weak, and battered in a motel parking lot. Your silence said everything; trust had been lost between your family members. No amount of do-good-ing would mend the betrayal’s wounds, regardless of Dean’s intentions.
Dean pulled the car into another stereotypical rest stop, the mechanical click of the parking brake announcing your destination, the Impala’s engine roaring to a purr, followed by silence as Dean removed his keys from the ignition, metal jingling against metal. Dean shuffled with his wallet, loading his pistol with iridescent angel killers in your line of sight (which was an action performed purposefully) before exiting in search of food, Sam following his lead, their features stern, the younger Winchester’s hazel eyes firing a wordless warning in your direction before his passenger side door slammed closed, the interior trembling from the impact. You rolled over, exhausted from the lack of conversation, stimulation or movement, opting to rest instead of facing another high-tension mealtime, hoping Castiel would be waiting for you once you closed your eyes, your slumber now acting as a drug…
You snuggled into the softened leather, seatbelt digging into your stomach, willing your mind with every fiber of your being to surrender to sleep, to see your angel’s face once more.
“Y/n.” You heard him whisper, bolting upright in awe, your eyes locking on two softening sapphire irises, the angel’s brows pulled together in relief. Castiel’s arms wound around your waist, melting you to his chest, his lips on yours within seconds, the sensation of his embrace comfortably familiar, though far more tangible than your usual dream. His hands clenched before releasing the back of your shirt, his eyes on the windows. “I don’t have much time.” He turned back to you, his jaw clenching, eyes full of sorrow, centuries of wisdom staring down at you. “I had to see you. I know you told me to stay away, but I…“ he sighed, his hand cradling your cheek, your face leaning into his touch without thought, "I had to see you. Are you alright?” He inquired, voice shaking from the override of emotion. You nodded into his palm, his thumb working over your cheekbone.
“I’m fine. Cas, as much as I want you to stay, it isn’t safe. You have to go.” You argued, your hands shifting to his chest, heart screaming at your stupidity as you gently pushed him away from your body, his lungs deflting, though his head bobbed in agreement, eyes flickering to the windows. Castiel’s face crumpled, lips darting to yours once more before he parted from you, his eyes staring downward as he flickered out of existence, and not a second too soon. Dean and Sam opened their doors and climbed into the Impala, steaming burgers in their hands, their faces set in steely masks of rigid authority. Dean handed you a bundled package stained by oil, his green eyes untrusting… but bordering sympathetic. He tilted his head at you, urging you to take the offering, but you redirected your gaze elsewhere, a tear falling onto the greasy white wrapping the moment you pulled it towards your body, hunger winning over willpower. Shit, you were crying. That would explain the sudden appearance of caring emotion in Dean’s eyes. You angrily wiped underneath your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling. Sam and Dean sighed, torn between brotherly comfort and maintaining their positions as prison guards, both brothers eventually facing you.
“Look, Y/n-” Dean began, his tone similar to that of a guidance counselor; not enough emotion to overwhelm his authority as a warden, just enough to remind you that he was being paid for his sympathies. You clenched your fist, teeth grinding into one another, the sound trampling through your skull. “I know you’re upset about Cas, but we’re doing this for your own good. He’s dangerous. He could go off, at any second, and we’d have to scrape you off the interior. We know monsters, Y/n, and Cas-“
“Was your friend first, Dean.” you spat, shocking yourself with the venom present in your voice. All this pent-up anger was finally bubbling through your facade, and once the floodgates were leaking, there was no escaping the flow. Dean’s emerald eyes widened, Sam’s jaw setting. “He was your friend, and you pushed him away for loving someone, what, because they shared the same genetic coding as you? Bull shit, Dean, and you know it.” Dean’s jaw hardened, his brow set with frustration. He swiveled further in his seat, better angling himself to address you.
“He loses it for one second and you’re blind, at the least. He could kill you without a thought. As easy as breathing, Y/n. I’ve seen it happen.” Dean grated, eyes of a hunter glaring down at you. You scoffed, eyes rolling back in your head. He was as selective in his argument as a U.S. senator.
“Can’t you remember? He’s one of the few good guys left with a pulse. He rebelled against Heaven for you, he’s killed his flesh and blood for you. He trusts you for one minute and you throw him in front of a moving train!” You retorted, cheeks burning with rage, your courage returned by Castiel’s visit. If it came to it, you might even bring it up for shock effect.
“Yeah, sneaking around to tap our little sister is trust,” Sam countered. You felt a pang of betrayal from the understanding side of the Winchester coin, your face heating further. So much for the logical agreement you’d been planning on. Sam usually stuck by your side, but now… you were fending for yourself, entirely alone.
“Heaven forbid I’m in a loving relationship with a guy! Leave it to you to degrade it into some monster getting balls deep in your sister.” You hissed, crossing your arms over your chest. Sam rolled his eyes, his mouth opening at your apparent stupidity.
“Castiel isn’t human. Why can’t you grasp that?” Sam drilled, his forehead wrinkling. A hot tear rolled across your cheekbone.
“You’ve done worse, Sam. I don’t care that he’’s not human! I disregard the fact that, yeah, he has wings and yeah, he’s like a billion years old and yeah, he can’t fix anything with a screwdriver but he can sure as Hell fix it with his mind. I DISREGARD IT BECAUSE I LOVE HIM AND IT DOESN’T MATTER TO ME. I was happy, really, really happy for once in my life and you took that from me! You were supposed to protect me. Cas has done nothing but good for us and you’re too SELFISH TO LET ME GO!” Dean and Sam ducked their heads, pondering your statement. After a minute of silence, excluding the aggravated sound of your nails scraping at the paper covering your lunch, Dean raised his face, locking eyes with Sam, who merely tilted his head in your direction.
“You’ve got one shot, you hear me? One. If he so much as gives you a papercut, I’ll shove an angel blade so far up his ass it’ll come out his nose.” Dean gave a half smile, though his eyes remained slightly troubled, as you unlocked your door, burger forgotten, stumbling out of the car. Castiel stood at the other end of the parking lot, running towards you, his arms winding around you the moment you met. You crashed into his chest, his arms vice tight around your back, his lips in your hair. You felt the breath rush out of him, heard his sigh of relief, his hand tangling in your hair as he clutched you close to him, unwilling to let you go. He raised his head, eyes behind you.
“Thank you… Dean, Sam.” He spoke, addressing the brothers, his voice strong. He nodded, probably in response to a mimed threat, his eyes falling to yours. His hands moved to cup your face, his mouth finding your lips. The sweet sensation of his kiss moving against your mouth sent an electric spark down to your toes, the angel’s tongue dragging across your lip, his mouth leaving yours vacant when Sam cleared his throat… loudly.
“Oh, get a room.” Dean whined, his car door slamming behind him, his hands wrenching over the steering wheel, Sam walking around the front of the Impala to join his brother in the car. Castiel’s eyebrows knotted in confusion, sapphire eyes meeting yours.
“Was… that a suggestion?” He breathed, obviously uncertain. You quickly shook your head, danger in your eyes, your hand on his back guiding him away from the vehicle, your urgency making him chuckle.
“God, no. They’d shoot you.” You warned, lacing your fingers with his. “Let’s just take it slow, okay? Give ‘em some time to adjust.” He nodded and grinned, happiness pooling in his once heartbreaking sorrowful eyes as he wrapped his arms around you, the world shifting away to nothingness as the angel took you out from under the spotlight, his lips on yours once again.
I’ll help you anyway-A Kyohei Rikudoh (Scandal in the spotlight) smut shot!
Kyohei was leaning on your doorway, watching you bite your lower lip in concentration as you were scribbling down phrases for Revance’s new single. Your beautiful locks were tied up into a loose bun, giving him a good view of your neck and collarbone. His soft chocolate brown eyes took in the hazy look in your eyes and your pouting lips as your mind was brainstorming for ideas. Smirking, he closed the door to your room, locking it from the inside.
Castiel imagine requested by anon! This imagine has been edited for reposting to amp-up the details I had skimped out on as a beginner. This imagine is also the first installment of a two-part (so far) series, so stay tuned during this next week for the second installment. It is a bit long because of dialogue breaks as well as detail, so I hope none of you mind the length. Hope you like it!
You were sitting upright in bed, your legs stiffly crossed beneath the covers in a pretzel formation, your heartbeat pulsing like a steady drum in your ear, each pounding a reminder that you were scared half out of your mind. You had requested your own motel room, directly next to your brothers, for privacy purposes; you were, after all, a woman. The last thing you wanted was your brothers coming out of the bathroom in just a towel, dishing up trauma on a silver platter if that towel were to fall to the floor. In a way, you were saving yourself from permanent scarring on the tissues of your delicate brain. Sam and Dean were very… rugged. They didn’t understand the delicate ways of femininity, your need for beauty rest, how well-mannered it was to flush the Goddamn toilet, the crucial tidbits of normalcy that kept your sanity intact. They were also a tad overprotective, which was understandable, coming from a lifestyle where you could literally be stabbed to death by some random monster while on a milk run at the grocery store merely for ending your name with “Winchester.” They had found you, their half-sister, locked in a dragon’s dungeon, used as bait to lure them to your captor. Since then, you three had been inseparable; the brothers dead-set on keeping you out of harm’s way, which, in effect, hauled you into the hunting community. Having been thrown into the world of monsters and superstition, they had seen no alternative to ensuring your safety. Your name was, after all, theirs, and they tended to stir the pot quite a bit. That didn’t fare well for you on your own, as was exhibited by your capture in a dragon’s lair. A dragon’s. Those existed. Those were a thing.
The request for a separate room was for another purpose as well. Their friend, the angel, had caught your special attention from the first moment you had met his innocent blue gaze. You had practically melted on the spot, his tentative half smile electrocuting you where you stood. Castiel had grown close to you, his kindness sparking a relationship, first as a friend, later as a lover, a status you were positive neither Dean nor Sam would approve of. The two of you went about your days avoiding eye contact, focusing on whatever task was at hand, occasionally brushing hands while guiding each others’ gaze to a specific piece of text within a book of lore, remaining otherwise uninvolved in the other’s life. It was the safest route you could think to travel, remaining under the radar of your usually perceptive brothers, the angel’s sapphire eyes never lingering for too long, never drawing attention to your relationship, your familiarity. Your nights were vastly different from the vagueness of your days; you spent each evening together, wrapped in his arms, talking of his Heaven, his brothers, his sisters, his very world, hushed giggles frantically muffled in fear of discovery, usually by a pair of lips on yours. The walls were thin, after all. You couldn’t afford the brother’s hearing their little sister laughing while she was supposedly alone in her room. That connection was too easily figured out, and you wouldn’t dare risk it. You stared out of the motel’s gauzy emerald curtains, a street light rupturing the darkness within your bedroom, crystals of fragmented light expelled outward by the threading of the fabric obstructing the outdoors from view.
You took a shaky breath, waiting. Your clock clicked, the time reading one in the morning, to the dot. The door eased open on silenced hinges, and you thanked God for the motel's surprising upkeep, Castiel now preferring not to startle you by appearing two feet on front of you, for which you were grateful. When your nerves were this exposed, his sudden presence would only service to frighten you. A bolt of electricity ignited along your spine, causing you to straighten as Castiel’s face appeared, the door sliding home with a practiced patience, locks clicking with barely a breath of sound. His face relaxed, a serene smile tugging his full lips into your favourite expression, his eyes sparkling in the darkness as they finally found peace in resting on your face. His eyes, burning brightly even in the absence of light, locked on yours as he slowly strode to your bedside, removing his trench coat, the soft crumple of fabric hitting the floor wringing your nerves, your skin buzzing with excitement. He stood before you, his rough hands rising to mold to your cheeks as he brought his mouth down to yours, heat transitioning from his fluid lips to yours. You tilted your head back, bending the angel over you, his lips slick against your own, his mouth opening yours in peaceful urgency. You relished his touch, void of contact as you had been for the entirety of the morning, his hands smoothing over the planes of your cheekbones. You felt his tongue trace against your lower lip, racing along the curve, causing your heart to thump louder than before as his tongue met yours, stroking along your taste buds, spreading sweetness where he touched you. Your breath was coming unevenly, the cooling stream of your angel’s breath rushing against your upper lip sizzling against your skin. Your tongue met his at every angle, his fingers tangling in your hair as he knelt on the bed, the mattress creaking with his added weight. You leaned back on your elbows, lowering yourself to the sheets, Castiel following you without once breaking the kiss as your sppine melted into the comforter. His hands drifted over your stomach, the sudden chill following his touch acknowledging the absence of your shirt. You giggled, pulling away from his hungry mouth, his sapphire eyes sparkling with confusion above you.
“Slow down there. You don’t have to miracle my clothes away.” You whispered, grinning as you watching the expanse of his cheekbones crinkle with his own smile, his teeth glimmering between rosy lips.
“I’m sorry. We don’t have much time to waste.” He breathed, shaking his head as he smiled, eliciting a gasp from between your lips as his hand grazed from your knee along your thigh, stopping at your now bare hip. His palm spread along your waist, pulling your body to him. You blushed, your eyes swimming in the heat that erupted along your cheeks. Castiel pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, nuzzling his nose into the raging crimson he no doubt found there before returning once more to your lips, one hand keeping you suspended to his chest, the other loosening his necktie, absentmindedly setting it aside. His teeth gently tugged at your bottom lip as you worked to undo the buttons of his crisp white shirt, surprised when it disappeared from between your fingers. Impatient, as always. He chuckled against your lips, moving the covers from your legs before climbing underneath with you, his mouth peppering kisses along your jaw, dipping to the plot of skin below your ear as he went, your teeth biting down on your lip to keep from giggling or, more realistically, groaning. He rolled onto his side, shimmying out of his trousers, his back arching in the process. Your eyes zeroed in on his sculpted chest, his abdomen rippling as he squirmed out of his pants, kicking them to the end of the bed. You reached your fingers to his exposed skin, the angel sighing at your touch, fingers trailing to his hips, his jaw clenching in your peripheral vision before you traced back to his chest, your palm flattening over his heart. He rotated, facing you, his breathing heavy and his cheeks hot. You inched closer to him, your fingers reaching now for the waistband of his boxers, his erection pressing against the fabric, eager for your touch. You began to slide them down when Castiel grabbed your hand, his eyes hard on yours. The fabric disappeared. He hungrily crashed his lips into yours, the heat of his chest warming your already overheating body as he rolled on top of you, his hands raising yours to rest beside your head.
You stared up at him, the muscles in his arms taught as he held himself over you. He shifted his weight onto his left arm, his right hand trailing from your hip to your ribcage, slowly grazing over your breast and your collarbone, travelling to your cheek. You shivered as his touch lifted away, his lips pressing wetly into your neck as his hand returned to your breast, his thumb grazing over your nipple. You muffled your sigh, his muscled stomach pressing into yours. Your pulse was beyond deafening now as you felt Castiel reposition himself, agonizingly slow, his lips pulling at yours. You moved your hands to his ribcage, relishing in the way he shivered at your touch, your fingers ghosting over his hipbones, trailing lower as he kissed you.
“I love you.” He breathed, his lips moving to your jawline, your head tilting back. Your hand stroked him, without thinking, a grunt escaping his lips, his eyes staring down at you, tormented and shocked. You pumped along his length, his jaw hardening against your shoulder as you moved, his lips pressing every moan into your skin with intent to tattoo, his hips bucking into your hand. He removed your hand from him, his face burning as he dipped his hips, your legs winding around his waist. You felt your hips buck, as his had done, unwillingly, and Castiel muffled his groan in your neck before finally pushing himself into you. You gasped, your lips pressed together in a thin line, fighting the urge to make any sound. He thrust into you again, his hand gripping your waist, lips planting wet kisses to your exposed skin. He panted into your ear as he moved, continuing to kiss up your neck, hiding his moaning with your sensitive skin as he moved within you. The heat of his body on yours was enough to make you squeal, but you had to remain quiet. He was moving so slowly, every inch of his body sending sparks to your heart like an electric circuit. He clenched his jaw, moving to your lips again, his sloppy kisses matching his rhythm. You felt a moan bubble from your throat, his mouth opening on yours, releasing the delicious sound into the still night air. His fingers drifted between your legs, massaging along your folds as he thrust into you, agonizingly slow. He pumped into you again, his pace increasing. His eyes were screwed shut, his mouth open just slightly. He whispered your name before pressing his lips together as you had done to maintain his moans of pleasure, the strain of silence present in both of you as you worked your hips to meet his.
The door burst open, the lights flicking on suddenly as Dean stormed into your bedroom, pistol in hand, his eyes hardened with aggravation. You shrieked, Castiel pulling out of you as you watched your older brother’s eyes ignite with fury, taking in your sweaty, naked state, your sweaty, naked angel of a boyfriend looking shocked beside you. Dean threw his gun to the floor, the tendons in his neck strained. Castiel kept his hand on your hip, just in case he needed to escape with you.
“What the FUCK IS THIS?” Dean yelled, his teeth bared beneath tight lips. You cringed, your face a radiator. “Cas? The Hell do you think you’re doing?” Dean advanced towards you, ripping Castiel from the bed, his body colliding with the floor, sheets tangled about him. You gasped, inching towards your fallen lover.
“Dean, please understand-” The angel began, standing before your brother with his hands raised, unable to continue when Dean drove his fist into your boyfriend’s jaw. Your hands covered your mouth, your angel spitting a line of blood onto the hardwood. His boxers had reappeared, and you noticed yourself clad in a simple camisole and underwear.
“Dean! Stop it!” You screamed, throwing the blankets from your body, clinging to Dean’s shoulders as you attempted to pull him away. Dean turned to you, knocking your hands away with his own, his gesture brusk, but not of extreme force, being careful not to hurt you whilst removing your hands from his form.
“How long, Y/n? How long has this been going on?” Dean growled, his tone accusing. When you didn’t answer, he blazed on, spewing venom with each word. “He’s not human! He can hurt you without thinking about it, I’ve seen it done.” Castiel rose again, his eyes full of sorrow.
“Dean, I would never-“ He struggled to speak, blood tainting his teeth.
“The Hell you wouldn’t! You burnt Pamela’s eyes clear out of her head and you expect me to believe you won’t slip up again?” Cas lowered his head. “If you EVER touch her again, ever, I will disconnect your joystick from the console, do you understand?” He threatened, his voice serrated. He turned to you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist as he tugged you from the room. You turned back, your eyes on Castiel.
“Cas! Stop it, Dean! STOP! LET ME GO!” You cried, writhing in Dean’s grip. He pulled you into the parking lot, spinning to face you and trapping you against the exterior wall of the motel, his face livid.
“I know monsters, Y/n, and I know humans. I know enough to piece this together and it does not end well for you.” His hot breath blew across your face, his rock hard irises locked with yours. “I didn’t save you just so you could die a different way. I need you, breathing, Y/n. You’re my little sister and I’ll be damned if you get roasted on my watch.” He grabbed your wrist again, guiding you into his motel room, Sammy waiting on a twin bed, pistol in hand, his cheeks flushed with secondhand embarrassment. You were plopped on Dean’s bed, the room heavy with silence, the flutter of wings announcing Castiel’s departure.
Won’t let anyone hear your voice-A Kota Igarashi (Scandal in the spotlight) smut shot!
were wrapped tightly around you from behind as you tried to pry him off of you
for the fifth time that night. Lately he seemed to find your bed and sleeping
next to you much more comfortable than to sleep in his own room, and although
you greatly enjoyed spending the nights together, Kota’s aggressive behavior
made it hard for both of you to wake up in the mornings.
So im a new reader for idw, where do you recommend i start? (im really interested in the earth cybertronian interactions too)
There are basically two places to start with IDW - at the very beginning, or at the start of “Phase 2,” the current, very popular run of books. If all the talk of More than Meets the Eye and The Title Formerly Known as Robots in Disguise is what has caught your interest, we - like most people at this point, probably - would recommend starting with Phase 2. There’s a little assumed knowledge and a few bits of continuity that might cause you to raise an eyebrow, but generally speaking you can jump in at the ground floor. To start with that, you’ll want to pick up More than Meets the Eye Vol 1 first:
…and from there, alternate between that and Robots in Disguise as you see fit. There are eight or nine trade paperback volumes currently available of each series, plus assorted one-shots and mini-series like Windblade and Drift: Empire of Stone. IDW put together this reading guide, and TFWiki’s own @jalaguy added the red arrows to help it make more sense!
An alternate way to collect this era of comics, seen in the bottom left of the reading guide above, is the “Omnibus” collections, which bundle two or three trades’ worth of comics into oversized hardcover compendiums. Only three of these are currently out, though.
As far as Earth interactions go, however, these series have none of that until Robots in Disguise returns to Earth in volume 6, after which it becomes a big part of the story again. If that is where your interest lies, then starting from the very start of IDW will definitely be of interest to you, because the first “era” of the comics is all about the Transformers living and operating in secret on Earth. It’s got a big human presence, lots of shady government stuff - a bit old hat these days in the way of the live-action movies and the Prime cartoon, but it was written years before any of those, and was a very fresh, very “Ultimate Marvel” take at the time of its release that really hadn’t been done before. It was all written by Simon Furman, and is some of how best work on Transformers in the modern era.
The only downside to explaining how it all played out is that IDW didn’t have any “ongoing” comic books at the time, and instead used mini-series and one-shots to tell the story, which means there’s no easy “volume 1, volume 2, volume 3″, etc, structure. Most if not all of the individual trade paperbacks from this era are long of out print, but can still be purchased diitally. Everything begins in Transformers: Infiltration:
…then carries on through different mini-series titled “Escalation,” “Devastation,” and concluding in “Revelation,” supplemented throughout by three volumes of “Spotlight” one-shots and a few other mini-series. Furman then departs, and the “All Hail Megatron” storyline begins, followed by a two-year ongoing series written by Mike Costa, after which “Phase 2″ began.
The complete “pre-MTMTE-and-RiD” era is available in eight hardcover omnibus collections, titled “The IDW Collection”….
These books are the simplest, most concise way of getting ahold of everything, but they DO collect the stories in a “suggested chronological reading order,” rather than the publishing order, which can affect the impact certain plot revelations have and which I don’t personally think is the best way to experience the story.
One final recommendation for a simple pick-up-and-read book is “Last Stand of the Wreckers,” a complete five-issue mini-series that was published in conjunction the start of the Costa ongoing. The creative team on this one features some of the Big Names behind “Phase 2,” and it’ll be a good taster of the mixture of character work, emotion, and violence you can expect from those books, MTMTE in particular.
- Did not actually know Chromedome had to “kill his little friend” in an episode of Headmasters.
- Hanging over the next 25 issues is Megatron being an autobot. We’ll have to wait and see if he’s planning something or not.
- Pitched 12-15 stories to IDW before LSotW, most of them being one shots/spotlights, one of them was a dinobot origin story. Has since been able to work some of it into MTMTE.
- Decided he wanted MTMTE to be an ensemble piece, writing as both comedy and drama, says he takes out some gags to get the tone right.
- Does he plan out all the characters he’s going to kill in advance? There are some characters he knows will die, not all of them have died yet. Some were slated to die but didn’t. Tailgate was going to die at the end of Remain In Light but the idea of Cyclonus saving him came to him. Says plans can change. He insists he doesn’t kill for the sake of killing. “And you don’t know what’s around the corner.”
- Part of his creative process is being in a fetal position and sobbing.
- Says he has a weakness for Lost Light characters.
- Relying more on post issues as far as past knowledge and familiarity with characters goes.
- Says he reads Saga, Hawkeye and Sex Crimes as far as comics goes.
- He’s a huge X-Files fan.
- “Some of the MTMTE episodes are sitcom-esque.” (He has a lot of respect for the way sitcoms are written)
- Burning their way through the traditional G1 characters. Sometimes limited in how they can use certain characters because of backstory/placement. “Sometimes you need a good old red shirt.”
- Rung’s alt-mode isn’t important. “Very little is important in Rung’s life.”
- More romance? Maybe. He assumes nothing is off limits until he’s told it is.
- MTMTE Season 2 will be sort of a roaming spotlight on characters, certain episodes will have all of them
- Favorites to write: Whirl, Swerve, Chromedome and Rewind, Cyclonus and Tailgate, Megatron at the moment, Nightbeat, Nautica, Ultra Magnus. But at the moment Nautica and Megatron.
- Scavengers will come back in a 2 part story in the not too distant future. DJD not in that particular story. DJD will be making more than one appearance and we’ll see how Tarn reacts to Megatron’s betrayal.
- Drift is “out there in space doing stuff.” We’ll see him again. Drift has two people “in his orbit” who are Rodimus and Ratchet (issue 30).
- “Every issue is my attempt to say ‘Please make this toy.’”
- If fans make enough noise and show support, Hasbro is very receptive to that. (I.e. Swerve, Tailgate, Whirl, Brainstorm, Chromedome, Hoist, Trailbreaker)
- Is it hard to get a green light for some of the heavier issues? (Like how Transformers are created). Disposable class (like Rewind) was originally left to die and were born with x amount of energon and no effort was made to refuel them. John Barber said no. The religion, PTSD and mental illness issues have had support from IDW.
- Brainstorm story arc? He’s an A-list character for season two and there’s a lot more to come.
- Identifies most with Megatron and Nautica.
- Does Grimlock get more story? He’s going to go places. His relationship with the scavengers is the important story there. Says the scavengers are not that nice and that they do have rough edges.