#doctor who is no longer in its prime

[riskyraiker]

Sex pollen

TFP!Optimus Prime x Reader

Everything has been going fine with team Prime since no decepticons were causing chaos and MECH has been quiet as well. The day was supposed to go well, if a pod of some kind wouldn't have landed on earth. Ratchet detected it first on the computer, notifying Optimus about it. Bee was with Raf, Arcee with Jack and Bulkhead with Miko so Y/N was the only one left to tag along. 

“What is the origin of the pod?” You ask Optimus with a raised brow walking through the groundbridge, seeing forestry afterwards. “The origin wasn't listed on the signal, and we don't have any visual of it yet.” Optimus replies and looks for the signal. Walking around, being wary of any decepticons, you spot something. A pod like the signal said. “Optimus, i've found the pod. It isn't opened yet but it has no insignia on it. Should I open it?” You commlink and receive a negative answer from Optimus. “Wait for me, Y/N. It's never clear what's in there.” You wait for Optimus, following his instructions until you hear a click. It was the pod, it's making noise, is it…opening? And POOF some form of gas hits your faceplate and you inhale some of it in shock. “Y/n what happened?” Optimus arrived at the scene, checking on you. “The pod” cough “opened and exploded some gas all over me and right on my faceplate, inhaled some of it.” You cough and hold onto Optimus so you won't fall. Once your state has stabilized, Optimus grabs the pod and contacts Ratchet for a groundbridge. 

“Old friend, would you check on Y/n they inhaled whatever came out of the pod.” Optimus asks, leaving with the pod, taking it away from the others. Sigh “Well come on Y/n. Let's check your stats.” You were about to walk over to the berth in the medbay until everything felt off, it was unbearably hot and your fans went on, working on 60%. “Ratch..I don't feel so great. Like I'm overheating and so much more” Ratchet knew immediately something was off when you froze and your fans were humming quite loudly. He's already by your side, helping you to the berth. He scans you, noticing something was off in your tanks. He checks everything possible until he finds the source of your overheating. “Not good.” Ratchet mumbles and turns around. “Y/n you need to be quarantined for a bit. Go to your berthroom for now, and don't let anyone in! You inhaled some hortuan gas, it makes your processor overwork your frame and crave…interfacing.” Ratched explains more about it for example the so-called “heat” will end if you empty your tanks with interfacing, antide or on its own, which is a month. The medical facts leave you shocked. He shooed you away and got to work on how to solve it. Goddamnit! You were unlucky at least for now.

Retreating to your berthroom, you lay down and try to relax, hoping your cooling system won't overwork itself. After a while you find out it's useless to even try to relax, your processor is now running through every possible situation where you're interfacing with somebody. God, it would be nice. Lubricant was leaking now between your legs, your plates were not able to keep it hidden. If this was the effects of a few earth hours how would the rest of the day be or possibly the whole week? Others were informed of your state and how you wouldn't be able to leave your berthroom for a few days or longer until Ratchet figured out how to stop the side effects. The bots brought you energon time to time and talked with you, except Optimus. He was busy doing research and anything else on his datapad. He was worried about you, of course, he was since he's the team leader, but this was something else. He wanted to help you, to do something but he isn't a doctor of any kind. 

The first day wasn't that bad but after a few days? You're like a zombie with only one thought, craving brains except you were craving sex. A lot of it. And the only bot who you thought about was Optimus. His beautiful hips that you could hold tightly when thrusting into him or his neck cabling that you would bite into. You had enough, you won't wait for any form of antidote or the heat to pass. Walking out of the room searching for a specific door, groaning and rubbing your thighs together while walking. Knocking on the one specific door you hear pedsteps and once the door opens, you check. It's Optimus with a quite surprised look. “Y/n shouldn't you be in quarantine?” He asks while you breathe heavily, staring at the Prime. It wasn't long until you launched yourself straight against Optimus, pushing him down, while the door closed automatically. “Let me have you, please?” You beg still breathing heavily and already grinding against the bot below you. “I've been thinking of nothing else except you. You, you, and you full of..me. Let me have you.” it wasn't a question anymore, more like a demand. If the Prime was against this he could overpower you most likely. Your lips crash against his and your glossa slides right through. Your servos grab onto the sides of Optimus’ faceplate, pulling him closer. You get more aggressive with your movements, grinding harder against Optimus and tugging his helm closer if that's even possible. The making out continues while you lift him up somehow and carry him over to the berth. “Open up, open up, open the plates, please!” You growl against Optimus’ lips and you can hear how his interface plating opens, how lubricant leaks all over the berth. “Oh love, can I taste you?” You ask patiently even though you can barely hold back yourself and your actions. Optimus gasps and takes a moment to answer “You may. Please do.” Even if Optimus is losing his composure he still is polite as always. 

You dive in between the Prime’s legs and start devouring the wet valve, not having enough so you suck on his external node. The stimulation makes Optimus clench his thighs and wrap them around your head, making him groan. Sticking your tongue into the wet warmth, you can't help but moan at the taste. The lubricant gushing and squirting everywhere, as you eat the Prime out, gives the air a sour odor. You felt like you were…high? It's the gas or the fact that the Prime was holding your helm between his peds. “Ugh! Ray, please do not stop, I'm about to- nghh!” Optimus groaned and like on command your intake is filled with cum. You eat the mech out a little more since you don't want to waste any single drop. That taste is so heavenly and you need more of it. The click of your own interface plating opening makes Optimus glance at you only to be bit gently on his neck cables. The stimulation on his cables distracted him so much that he didn’t realize you were pushing in, the sudden stretch in his valve made him moan and throw his head back while you leaned your helm against Optimus’ shoulder bottoming out. The moment your spike has completely vanished into the Prime’s warmth, he shrieks. Your spike touched Optimus’ ceiling node perfectly, while you were loving the sounds Optimus made he was embarrassed and covered half of his face with his battle mask. “No. Take it off. Now.” You growl and start thrusting hard right into the mech's ceiling node. You can hear the sound of the mask deactivating and you grin that lust-filled smile until you kiss the prime again. The clanging of metal continues as you two make out, both close again to overloading. The moment you reach your climax, a few seconds after Optimus, you pull out, flip the Prime over, and push back in. You growl of pleasure (Fucking animal…) and pull the smokestacks located on the Prime’s back, which surprises Optimus who gasps at the sudden force. Now his back is pressed against your chest you nibble at the sensitive cabling, you remained the same since you walked through the door, while Optimus’ act has completely fallen. His calm and strong mentality was broken to nothing except moaning and whining since his legs shaking with too much tension and hips meeting your thrusts. It takes a while until your thrusts and stimulation make both of you overload, but this time Optimus is starting to get overstimulated while you continue. “R-Ray..Agh! Too much.” Optimus whines as you tug harder at his smokestacks. “I assume Ratchet tol- ngh! He told you about my condition and how it stops. Well, I’m no- ahh. I’m not stopping until my tanks are empty and spilled into you, sweetspark.” You whisper into his audio receptor and bite the little piece of it. Optimus knew that you wouldn’t stop, driven by the bio-gas in your system so he tried his best to endure the overstimulation, but after his fourth orgasm, he couldn’t bear it anymore. You hear the whines and pleas of stopping, but you’re so close to emptying your tanks. “One more, sweetspark. One more.” And you go on with deep yet painfully slow. As your climax arrives the seventh time, Optimus overloads one last time which is his fifth. While Optimus has tears bubbling in his optics and letting dry away, you’re gasping for air. Your tanks are empty so the effect of the gas goes away, and the moment you become conscious, you tense up. Seeing the prime in such shape and you were the one who caused it made you feel awful until the Prime understood the state you were in he talked you back to reality. “You do know I could’ve stopped you if I didn’t want it.” The words almost went through your other audio receptor until your lips met Optimus’. He kissed you to bring you back of your head. 

The two of you clean up and head out of the berthroom to inform Ratchet of your well-being. You both also know if you tell Ratchet he will know what you did. While walking over to the main area Ratchet does recognize Optimus’ walk pattern so he starts to talk. “Optimus I’m almost done with the antidote for Ray.” You cringe in embarrassment and cover your face while Optimus surprisingly chuckles. “About that old friend. We’ve come to inform you of Ray’s well-being.” Ratchet heard Optimus just fine, but does his research a few seconds before turning around, spotting Optimus and… you. “Ray. Don’t tell me you did what I think you did.” Ratchet whispers. You snicker and blurb it out “I couldn’t handle it, marched over to Optimus’ room, and finished what I started!” Ratchet just groans since he is close to finishing his project on the antidote. “No wonder Bumblebee mentioned metal clanging in the hallway.” The medic mumbled just loud enough for you both to hear. While you laughed at the new statement Optimus was the one embarrassed this time. “I hope it was just the clanging he heard.” You whisper and snicker once again.

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AN: This is my first time posting smut on tumblr SO if you want to read more do go on AO3 and there is more of fics like this one!

My AO3 profile:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/risky_writer/works

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ Embrace Me

Megatron x Reader (+ soft Optimus Prime) - transformers prime

Stiffness, stillness, chidings from a tired and concerned doctor whom you understood only meant well; it all had muddled together into months of half-remembered instances. You scarce bother recollecting them, finding them bothersome and heavy as you clutch your arms about yourself, finally finding a moment where you can move freely.

The neck brace had been the worst of it; at first. The healing crack in your skull had quickly taken its place. It’d gone from the right side of your head, creeping just above your ear and onto your forehead. A crack, not an outright huge opening, but your brain had taken quite the beating. The swelling hadn’t been too terrible, or so the doctors said. It’d been awful to you, though.

The cut to your head had healed well, though you now had a scar going from your right eyelid, over your eyebrow and nearly reaching your right ear. Miko had told you your new battle scar was cool. You’d smiled at her attempt at comfort. Ratchet hadn’t been quite as amused by it, but he’d chosen to hold his glossa and instead chose to only send her a look. The sight had made you chuckle.

The damage to your neck was fully healed and your fingers no longer tingled, but phantom aches occasionally came to haunt you, going down your spine and making you frown from how unpleasant it felt. You’d been so bold to even ask Optimus if he could gently trace a digit over it, just to remind your body that nothing was amiss.

Wonderful as Optimus is, he hadn’t refused you, but the touch, although soothing and pleasant, was not what you wished for. It pained you that it didn’t fill the hole in your heart. It pained how it made you feel worse because it couldn’t replace what you truly desired.

Your heart ached for someone else, someone who was terrible for you, someone who’d written you poetry and recited it to you, someone whose touch was stained with wrath and spilt energon yet lent only warmth and love for you. Someone whose optics were seas of bloodied red that threatened to drown you.

Your heart ached for Megatron, and it was shattering you.

“Y/n?”

You wiped at your eyes as Optimus’ deep voice called your name. Turning to face him, you smile pitifully, making a poor attempt to hide your sorrow. Optimus’ expression falters, growing concerned as his servo hovers near you, and all you can do is reach out to clutch at it; clinging as if it was the only thing keeping you alive.

“I’m sorry,” you say, tears running freely as sobs wreck through you. “I’m sorry.”

Optimus says nothing. He needn’t say anything. The feel of his free servo coming around behind you, not lifting, but merely holding says enough. He knows. He knows what you feel and he’s so understanding it only succeeds in breaking you further because you don’t feel as if you deserve it. Why does he understand? Why does he lend you his comfort?

Because he’s good, and kind, and lovely beyond words; you think, crying even more. He’s everything Megatron is not, and yet… And yet.

“I’m drowning, Optimus,” you say, speaking between sobs and soft cries. “I’m drowning and all I can see is him, reaching out for me, begging me to take his hand lest I disappear into oblivion.” Heart quivering, you take a breath but are unable to calm yourself. “But I feel so conflicted because I cannot reach out and grasp him. I—I can’t accept. I just can’t. It’s a life not meant for me.”

Optimus says nothing but continues to hold you, keeping you from fully breaking apart as his warmth floods you and lends you strength. Something tingles along your skin, something soft and gentle; trying to reach out but is unable to connect. He’s trying to comfort you in manners which your human body is unable to comprehend or even sense, but it is so strong the hairs along your arms stand on end, and you sniffle as you lift your head to look up at him, and he’s smiling at you, and it takes your breath away.

“I agree, it is not a life meant for you, y/n,” says he, digit trailing gently over the back of your head. “But your confession brings with it hope, for if it is as you say, then I believe there might be a greater chance for Megatron to change and turn away from this path of destruction.” He took in the sight of you, filing it to memory. “If Megatron’s feelings for you are as deep as I hope, then I do not think you must choose to drown in despair or submit to a bodily change. Instead, you will be the one to pull him away from the storm,” his optics warmed, and his digit tenderly stroked away a stray tear, “and onto a patch of green land.”

And as you are finally free from Ratchet’s constant watch, deemed healthy enough to roam as you wish, you take the opportunity to be bridged somewhere warm; a place where the flowers cover the hills as far as the eyes can see. And here you stay to enjoy the wind and the sun, smelling the flowers which surround you, prepared to call Ratchet when you wish to return, but not yet. Not yet.

Not even as the sound of a huge jet breaks through the air, startling you but moving too fast for you to see it as the sound of metal shifts and grinds. And barely do you turn around at the sound of something heavy landing behind you, sending tremors to the ground even as, again, the sound of metal shifting grace your ears.

Servos reach around you, momentarily blinding you as sunlight hits polished armour, and you are brought close to a warm chassis; nearly crushed against a warm, metallic body. Intakes, deep and trembling; unbelieving, echo in your mind, and your breath hitches as your eyes fill with relieved tears, your heart swelling and aching and hurting so wonderfully at the feeling of him near you; all around you.

“Megatron—”

“You live,” he says, barely letting you finish calling his name. He vents, heavily, a sound filled with mountains of stress and anguish released. His helm comes to rest against your head, a servo at the back of your neck, keeping you close. “You live.”

Previous / Next Music: Vangelis – Monastery of La Rabida

[mlmxreader]

Ecologists | Alan Grant x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ I wish to encourage your interests and read about hot men! 60. “You do realise that I knew you had a crush on me, right?” With Dr Alan Grant pretty please? ❞

: ̗̀➛ At Ellie's behest, Grant goes to visit an ecologist who he knows quite well... maybe a little bit too well, actually.

trigger warnings: ̗̀➛ swearing, brief mentions of alcohol, age gaps, roaches (specifically my baby Riot !!)

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

spotlight fundraiser : ̗̀➛ Save Dr. Farhat's family from genocide in Gaza

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

It wasn't that Grant disliked ecologists, exactly, he actually respected them greatly and everything they did for conservation efforts, but he didn't like how he felt around you, specifically; half his age, you were strikingly handsome, and never failed to make his stomach turn into knots every time you smiled at him.

He was approaching fifty, you probably just saw him as a colleague and little else; his beard was growing thicker and longer, bits of dust constantly stuck between the strands.

Unprofessional and scruffy, Grant had showed up to your office in his usual dig attire - roughed up jeans, a stretched and worn shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and knocked around shoes that had certainly seen past their prime.

He looked around the office with his hands shoved into his pockets after seeing the various tanks and vivariums telling him not to touch; a vicious, large, snake watched him from behind glass panes. He knew the species, it wasn't venomous, but could certainly pack a punch if it wanted to; he had been bitten by one before, and didn't really want to be reminded of that.

The door opened, and Grant turned to look at you as he moved to hold his hat in his hands; idly fiddling with the brim as he watched you wonder around for a moment, a large cockroach perched on your shoulder.

"So," you hummed, laying a thick log book on the table between you both. "What can I help you with, Doctor Grant?"

He shrugged, putting his hat down beside the book and gesturing to the cockroach on your shoulder. "You have, a..."

You nodded, not even flinching. "Yeah, I know. It's fine, he won't bite... so, you called?"

Grant nodded, biting at the inside of his lip for a moment. "I got an invitation yesterday to see Hammond's island."

"I'm not going anywhere that that rich cunt has laid on his hands on," you scowled, and he laughed to himself. "So this isn't a social call?"

You sounded disappointed, but he pushed it from his mind as he shook his head.

"No," he said quietly. "Me and Ellie need you there. Need your perspective."

"I dunno," you mused, coaxing the roach onto your hand and letting it sit on the back. Its little padded feet rested on your knuckles as you locked eyes with it. "What do you think?"

The roach didn't make a sound, staring back at you until you nodded and looked back at Grant.

"Sorry, he says I can't."

A smile tugged at his lips as he nodded. "Ian Malcolm is going."

"And?" You scoffed, letting the roach wander up your arm again. "Doctor Grant, between us? I always thought he was a bit of a pillock... I'd rather stick with you and Ellie."

He was trying so hard not to laugh. "Well, we're going to this island tomorrow. You can come with us... and knowing you, you'd probably run off anyway the second you see something... you know, he probably has roaches there. Geckos, too."

You turned to look at your little friend as he clung to your sleeve and looked at you. You sighed, gently trading a finger down his back. "Alright. Fine, but only because you've insisted."

Grant smiled, relief washing over him for a moment; he still hated how he felt around you. His hands shook and his heart raced, his words had to be carefully spoken to prevent him stumbling over them. He hated how he felt. "Thank you, really."

You shrugged, coaxing your small friend onto the table. "You know, this species is fascinating. They're densely armoured and larger than others, but when it comes to males fighting over partners, they don't bite. They just sort of shove each other."

Grant nodded, bending down to get a good look at it. Its orange complexion against dark markings was certainly something to behold. "You know, we have reason to believe that these guys appeared in the Late Jurassic... maybe you should come on a dig with us, you can have a fossilised one if we find out."

"Doctor Grant," you breathed out with a soft laugh. "That's the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me."

He froze. He could feel his face heating up and turning pink, and he hated it. His words failed, until you laughed loudly and patted him on the shoulder.

"Did you now know?" He heard you ask.

He shook his head. "Sorry, what?"

"You do realise that I knew you had a crush on my, right?" You cocked a brow, and he shook his head. Watching as you casually let the roach clamber onto your hand. "I'm young, not stupid, Grant. I just wondered when you were gonna ask."

He was still in shock, shaking his head to try and free something, anything, from his tongue. "But... I'm older and..."

"And we are in entirely different fields," you pointed out, grabbing some leaves from your various plants on the windowsill. You held them as the roach ate them from between your fingers. "I'm an expert in mine, and you in yours... besides, if my animals tolerate you... I think I will be fine."

His gaze drifted to the roach eating the leaves from your fingers. "Really?"

"Yeah," you nodded. "Now, are you gonna look at me like I smacked you all day, or are you gonna come into the back, have a beer, and actually fucking kiss me?"

Grant moved to follow you, turning around and grabbing his hat quickly; he held it against his chest. Maybe he should have called and told Ellie that she was right and inviting you to the island did help him tell you how he felt... sort of. He hated when she was right, but he wouldn't have loved to have anyone else as his best friend in the world.

"So," you gently coaxed the roach back into its tank. "This island... are you hoping to use it as an excuse for a date, or does that come with the invite to your digs?"

Grant shrugged, a bit lost for words. He thought you would have immediately rejected him. "Whichever you prefer."

"I'll take the dig," you told him with a curt nod. "I'll still go to the island, but the dig is a better first date... don't you think?"

[lets-try-some-writing]

Got Angst for Prime.

AU: Whatever AU you want to use.

Concept: Ratchet's Optics never really recovered from his Synth-En incident. He sees everything in a tint of green. And his optics show it. So, every time OP looks Ratchet in the optics, he sees the blue with a tinge of green surrounding it, and he gets hit with how bad he failed Ratchet.

(I've pretty much always HC that Ratchet had some lasting aftereffects of his tests. This one's my favorite though.)

I can't help it.

I am going to make this shippy.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Optimus had always loved Ratchet's optics. If you asked him, he would deny the way he often found himself staring wistfully off in the doctor's direction. It was all professional concern for a mech who simply didn't know when he needed to rest and recover. If he shared a glance with Ratchet for a little longer than normal, it was simply because he cared. That was what he told others. Whether or not they believe him was up for debate.

But beneath that veil of half truths created for both his and Ratchet's safety, Optimus's affections ran deep.

Even before the war, he'd loved those optics. Ratchet's optics were aged even when Orion was young. And yet they held a life to them that was undeniable. Passion incapable of being smothered by the harsh words of others and the seemingly impossible trial that was going up a caste. Ratchet bore every burden and political scheme with blunt determination, his optics always shining brightly as a hint of a smirk played on his features. Optimus loved that mischievous grin and the telltale glint that Ratchet got in his optics when he had some wild plan cooked up. Even though he was unable to bring himself to utter the compliments that formed in the back of his mind, he loved the Doctor's optics more than he cared to admit. So much energy contained within a compact frame. It was beautiful in its own unique way.

Once the war began and Orion Pax became Optimus Prime, he did not think about Ratchet's optics as much. At least until they began to lose the shine that he had been so familiar with in his youth.

War was uncaring and it held no love for those trapped within its web. Optimus endured it with the patience of the old gods of Cybertron long since left to rot. Whispers of ancient beings far beyond his comprehension clouded his sense of time. Tears he wept for the fallen turned his gaze away from those around him and instead to the rivers of energon that flowed around his pedes. He endured it as the last of a long line of divines given frame. But Ratchet was mortal, and as the war dragged on, those optics that Optimus adored grew darker. Passion changed to red hot fury so bright and dangerous that Ratchet's gaze felt almost like venom at times.

Stokes of fire leapt through Ratchet's blazing optics, and more than once Optimus feared he'd be scorched by that boiling inferno of loss and grief. And yet despite being the one to lead their war ever onward, Optimus never felt Ratchet's anger directed at him. When those optics gazed up at him, Optimus felt only age old affection and care. Fire was tamed and turned to comforting warmth. Steady servos ran along his arms and a soothing voice lulled Optimus into temporary serenity on long cycles where he simply had no more tears to shed or reason to give to their Primus forsaken war. All the while those optics met his own and Optimus was at peace.

Vorns passed by. Optimus continued in his eternal march toward victory and Ratchet continued to change. Rage turned into bitterness, the molten hot wrath of war transforming into a deep set sorrow that left creases in the living metal that surrounded Ratchet's optics. Grim darkness pooled in that once passionate gaze. Those optics flickered in wrath long fostered each time Megatron made himself known. Those optics flared with every injury that the team brought with them back to base once they arrived on Earth. Those optics that Optimus loved so dearly dimmed and quieted, their light softening in the dark of the medical bay on long nights when Ratchet thought no one would hear his quiet sobs.

Optimus always loved Ratchet's optics.

He should have treated him better.

"Does it still hurt?" Optimus asked as he ran his digits over the weld on Ratchet's side.

"Of course it does. The weld has only been in place for a month and the wound ran deep." Ratchet replied clinically, not looking up from his work even as Optimus risked wrapped his arms around the doctor's waist. Others could see, but in the moment, he didn't care.

"I'm sorry." He murmured into the crook of Ratchet's neck as he leaned down, desperate to feel the comforting warmth of Ratchet's frame against his. The Doctor stilled, his field extending and wrapping around Optimus is concern.

"Optimus, please, we've talked about this. I was out of line in saying that. You are not at fault." Ratchet broke from Optimus's embrace and turned around. Optimus wanted to look away in shame as those optics looked up at him, still as lovely as ever, but tinted a haunting green.

A sign of Optimus's greatest failure.

"I am at fault, and you know that as well as I do. Let us not delude ourselves." Optimus reached out to cup Ratchet's face. The Doctor leaned into his touch obligingly. Any open affection was a risk, but there was something unspoken that needed to be addressed before time ran out and the world drew them apart yet again.

"You have always done what you think is right. I can't blame you for hoping and trying to save a mech who was once a friend." Ratchet's optics cycled and the green became more prominent within them in response to his emotions. Optimus frowned and shifted so caress the metal around the Doctors optics. His scarred digits traced creases and small scuffs, lingering around the corners of Ratchet's optics as Optimus observed the green hue in sorrow.

"You shouldn't have felt pressured to do this to yourself. The risks were too great. If I had only-" A digit pressed to Optimus's derma before he could continue, silencing his attempts at being self deprecating before they could truly begin.

"I made my choice. It is not your fault. Besides, the world is just a little more green for me now. That is all." Ratchet forced a smile, but Optimus could not bring himself to do the same. Ratchet's words while he was on synthetic energon were cruel... but undeniably true. How many times had Optimus had the chance to bring down Megatron only to let the warlord go? How many lives could he have saved if he had only put aside his feelings on the matter and acted?

"I can tell you are beating yourself up over it. Stop. It's over now and I'm fine." Ratchet pulled away and Optimus's servos fell. They stood quietly together for a nanoklik before Ratchet moved forward, his smaller frame pressing against Optimus's in a gentle embrace. Strong arms hooked themselves around the crooks of Optimus's torso, unwavering but gentle enough that if he wished, the Prime could pull away.

"Forgive me." Optimus murmured in the quiet of the medical bay. A gentle hum met his plea. Neither said another word as they stood in the relative dark, comforted in the presence of one another. Only the light of the nearby console lit up the area, but it was more than enough for the Prime to work with.

Green tinted optics glowed in the gloom, illuminating Optimus's face as he leaned down. Ratchet's optics closed, most likely expecting a gentle touch to the crest of his helm. Instead, Optimus leaned as close as he was able, even going so far as to angle his helm so that he could get near enough to place a ghost of a kiss over Ratchet's optics. Each closed optic received the lightest of touches, so soft that it may as well have been a gust of wind. But as Optimus pulled back and settled into the helm touch that Ratchet had likely been prepared for, the Prime finally smiled.

"Thank you for standing by my side." Ratchet stared in shock as the Prime's digits again found their place tracing around the Doctor's optics. Ratchet stood still, uncertain of how to respond until Optimus spoke again.

"I've always loved your optics, regardless of their hue." Optimus assured, earning a gentle huff from his companion.

"You sap." Ratchet whispered even as his optics glowed in all too rare joy at the show of affection. The green was still present, a permanent reminder of the costs of war. However Optimus continued to smile all the same, simply pleased to have those optics locked on him.

Yes, Optimus would admit it aloud if times permitted.

He had always loved Ratchet's optics.

[fatuismooches]

Dw hahahaha I'm still alive just dying over ( why did I chose to study a PHD 😭 ) But im on a break from school so except so a lot more brainrot from me lmao, also sorry if this is jumbly kinda just put my words out there hahaha

I know we always talk about fragile reader during the illness but what about after? Fragile reader was plauged with this illness for hundreds of years so they deffinently adapted. Like typically when walking then would shuffle their feet a lot cause it took less energy so sometime they shuffle their feet and don't even realize. They didnt have the ability to do tasks such a pouring liquids into cups so whenever they're about to pour themselves a glass of water then to do collect themselves because what if their illness comes back? What if there dreaming and they'll suddenly drop everything. All of Zandik's work is reverted. So often times segments will just find reader staring intensely at a simple task. And of course they'll go comfort reader. Whilst they wish they could do it they know how much reader wants their autonomy back after such a restrictive few centuries.

But let not ignore the segments and Prime cause they've picked up a few habits also. They've gotten used to treating reader as fragile as glass so whenever they fall or trip post illness they freak out. It would require some comfort from reader to bring them back to earth and remember that reader is no longer ill. But you KNOW that they're pulling out every healing treatment they've got. They're all evil and sadistic doctors but for you they'll be good. <4

But regarding Zandik himself... Well he was so excited to finally have cured his lover that he completely forgot about the effects you'd suffer after. So when a few segments report of you not being completely free of your curse he's immediately trying to figure out how he can help you. He decides that the best thing to do is to be there for you. It typically is unusual to see the Doctor away from his work but now it's the norm for Il Doctors to be with his lover.

- Jellofish Anon

After being sick for so long, one would think you'd be ecstatic to finally be cured, to be free of the illness that plagued your body and life so much. And well, they were right, but the happiness still came with its anxieties. Change was never an easy thing, even when it was the good type. After dealing with this for so many years, you were bound to still be nervous about doing certain things. To not have the confidence in yourself to carry out the task. You worry that you'll mess up or fail and waste your time trying to do so and just end up making more of a problem for yourself and others. Even though you know that's illogical now, it's hard to get out of a mindset you've been stuck with for so long. Of course, your inner conflict doesn't go unnoticed by your lovers, and each segment would provide their own kind of comfort based on who they are, whether gruffly or soothingly, to give you the courage to take back your life.

You can't exactly blame Dottore and the segments for being overbearing, after all, they've witnessed your weak state for numerous centuries, and they've seen you hit your lowest many times too. They can't help but worry about their darling too. It's endearing at first but you have to hold them and help them realize that was the past you, the new you is someone different thanks to them. You can be strong and safe and independent without them now, even if it sort of makes them crazy knowing the situations you put yourself in now. Still, they observe you very much even when you least expect it.

Of course, the cure is not without its drawbacks - you still have to deal with the lingering effects of your illness sometimes. Which definitely aren't as bad as before, but they still serve to remind you of your old life. But you know that regardless of what the future may bring, you'll always have Dottore by your side to ease whatever pains you have.

(Dottore post-illness would be such a cutie. It's such a rewarding feeling, to see the one he loves no longer burdened and free to pursue what they want just like he does. He would sit and listen to all the stories you have for him each day, all the exciting things you can do now, the days of pain in the past. Of course, the segments would be extremely excited to finally have a worthy assistant - you - but there's only one of you after all. Unfortunately, they have to share, and bear the painful curse of having you to themselves once nearly every two weeks.)

(I've been planning to make this a full fic for like a year...)

[swarvey]

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

summary -> Harvey gets drunk with the boys; you have a realization. warnings -> none! wc -> 3818

a/n: calm before the storm <3

ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8

paper rings masterlist

chapter seven: i think he knows -> "it's like i'm seventeen, nobody understands."

“Done!” 

Triumphantly placing the last piece of the bundle in the box, you watched happily as a blue Junimo picked it up and took it away. As you continuously brought goods to the Community Center in hopes of restoring it — per Mayor Lewis’s request — you noticed this particular Junimo seemed to have taking a liking to you, as it kept following you to random places. Not only was it mainly the one who would take your completed bundles, but once in a while, it would show up at the farm or in the mines, usually looking at you with curious eyes before disappearing. You weren’t complaining, of course. It was harmlessly adorable, and after seeing it a couple of times, you fittingly named it Blueberry. It seemed as determined to bring the building back to its prime as you were.

You could hardly believe anyone in town would shop at the Joja Mart over Pierre’s. Sure, the guy could be a bit stuck-up, but at least his goods weren’t processed to hell like Joja’s. You shivered at the thought of working for the cursed company again, not comprehending how Sam and Shane could tolerate being in that place regularly. 

Well, Sam less so, as he always seemed to figure out how to entertain himself. It seemed like Shane just liked being in a place where no one would bother him, which made you all the more confused as to why he hung around Harvey and, of all people, Elliott, who seemed to be his polar opposite. 

You sighed contently as Blueberry wound around your feet once before walking away with the bundle, proudly looking at the two rooms you had completed so far. Although the effort was taking you a bit longer than you liked, seeing the rooms steadily come together was enough for you. You chose not to question how the Community Center was repairing itself, or where the Junimos came from — you’d learned long ago that many things in the Valley were unexplainable, and you were okay with that. 

You smiled as you waved goodbye to your little blue friend, swearing you saw it wave back.

I wonder what Harvey would think of this little guy.

-

“What in the everloving fuck am I looking at right now.”

For once, Harvey completely agreed with Shane’s words. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through his bloodstream, but whatever Elliott was holding up on his phone screen was not making an ounce of sense to him.

“It’s a visualization of my novel!” the writer exclaimed, his usually precise tone slurred due to the three empty glasses in front of him. “I decided to expand my creative mind and turn to another output. This will allow me to make full use of my thought process.”

Shane snorted, grabbing the phone out of his hands and squinting at the poorly drawn stick figures. “Dude, I don’t know how to break it to you,” he started, laughter already bubbling in his voice, “but this looks like shit .”

Harvey shook his head and smiled as Shane cackled. Elliott snatched his phone back in retaliation, visibly offended. “It’s a rough draft, it’s not meant to look polished! You agree, don’t you, my good doctor?”

“. . . It kind of looks like shit,” he admitted, his rare use of profanity slipping off his tongue easily. Harvey took a long swig of his drink, avoiding Elliott’s utterly betrayed gaze.

Meanwhile, Shane continued to crack up, holding his stomach as he doubled over. “If this is the rough draft, the real thing might just pass off as a kindergartener’s drawing. Hey, why don’t I ask Jas to give you some tips? She’s not half bad, that kid.”

“I absolutely will not — actually,” Elliott paused, cutting off his own sentence, “that may not be a terrible idea. Then, I could obtain a glimpse of how she views my work, and incorporate it into the final product!”

As Shane groaned, tuning out the rest of the other man’s rambling, Harvey felt his phone buzz, looking down to see a text from you lighting up his screen.

Y/N : hey, you at the saloon?

In the midst of his drunken haze, he allowed a lovestruck smile to stretch his lips. He didn’t even notice Shane and Elliott momentarily pausing their bickering to glance at him, both of them raising their brows. 

Harvey : Am I that predictable?

Y/N : like clockwork. drunk off your ass yet?

Harvey : I never get drunk off my ass, Y/N.

Y/N : really? 

should i send the video?

Harvey : DO NOT!!

I asked you to delete it years ago. :(

Y/N : LOL you’re totally drunk

i’ll ask emily to take some funny photos

i’ve been meaning to update your contact pic anyway

Harvey : You are impossible.

Harvey felt like a teenager again, hiding his grin and tinted cheeks behind his hand. 

Harvey : Are you at home?

Y/N : yeah, i’m beat, probably gonna head to bed

still down for the festival on tuesday?

His posture straightened as he suddenly remembered the invitation he’d given you to the Stardew Valley Fair. After checking the date and seeing that it was Saturday, he realized he had less than a week to mentally prepare himself for the event. 

“Shit,” he swore quietly, once again not noticing the appalled look on Elliott’s face at his swear. Shane snickered, no doubt finding it amusing to see the doctor so intoxicated — it was largely his fault, after all, since he’d been determined to partake in as many rounds as humanely possible.

Harvey : Of course! Why don’t I meet you at the clinic?

I’ll have to close up in the morning, so you can come in and wait for me.

Y/N : wow, inviting me over to your clinic? 

does this mean i get a free check-up? 

A free . . . check-up?

Harvey could only imagine this was what short-circuiting felt like.

Apparently, alcohol caused his thoughts to run even more wild. Images of you propped up on his examination table and smiling at him innocently flashed through his mind, his fingers frozen and unable to type out a response.

“Talking to Y/N, I’m guessing?” Harvey quickly closed his phone at the sound of Gus’s voice, realizing Shane must have ordered yet another round of drinks for everyone. His friends looked away, though he could still make out their amused smirks. “How’s that goin’ for ya?”

Right. After his first dinner with you in town, Harvey had confessed to Gus the situation he was in, his head bowed in guilt as he lectured him about treating you properly. Despite his protectiveness over you, Gus was still supportive of his feelings, giving him as much advice as he could.

“It’s, uh, going well,” Harvey replied, thinking that was the best word to describe your relations with him as of late. “We’re just as close as we were before.”

The older man nodded, grabbing the empty glasses to stow them away. “Well, you better take care of her, son. It’s not every day people have a connection like the two of you do, and I’d hate to see either of ya get hurt.” With that, Gus worked his way over to the next table, leaving Harvey to sit with his words.

“He’s right,” Shane said, pushing over another glass to him. “You two are somethin’ else for sure. Kinda makes me sick.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Elliott countered. Upon seeing half his new drink was already gone, Harvey questioned how his speech was still comprehensible. “As I have been insisting since our dear Harvey first brought up the farmer, these two are a clear example of fate .”

“Oh, enough with that bullshit. Fate this, fate that — if fate’s real, why can’t it get me a new fuckin’ job, huh? That place makes me feel like I’m losing whatever brain cells I have left.”

Buzz!

“What does she want, anyway?” Shane asked, attempting to read Harvey’s screen. He quickly picked up his phone, looking away sheepishly as he hid your conversation. His friend huffed an unamused laugh, shrugging. “This is some damn middle school shit,” he grumbled, and Elliott laughed into his glass as he sipped his drink.

Y/N : relax harvs, i can practically see you having a heart attack through the screen

it was a joke btw, i’ll make sure to properly pay and schedule an appointment whenever i need one :salute:

Great. Now you thought he was being stingy. 

Harvey : Sorry, I got distracted. You know you can come in whenever you’d like.

Y/N : i know, thanks dr. harvey 

anyways, have fun, i’m off to bed

goodnight!

Harvey : Goodnight, Y/N.

When Harvey awoke the next morning, blinking past the dull ache in his head, he saw an unread text from you sent an hour before. His eyes widened as he opened it, realizing Emily must have listened to your request and snuck a picture of him when he wasn’t paying attention.

Of course, she had caught him while he was texting you, his face and ears burning red and his hidden smile completely up for show in the photo. He groaned in embarrassment, certain you would notice his expression and question him for it.

Instead, your text focused on a completely different aspect of the image.

Y/N : what the hell are those two idiots doing??

Confused, Harvey looked back at the picture and zoomed in, stifling a laugh at the sight of his two friends in the middle of a heated argument. Shane’s lips were pulled back in an aggressive snark while Elliott raised his phone to his face, his eyes lit with an honest passion.

Harvey : Lovers’ quarrel. Happens every day.

-

Memories hit you like a truck as you and your horse slowly headed towards town. You could practically smell the buttered popcorn and hear the ringing sound of festival games already filling the air. The Stardew Valley festival used to be the perfect way to end your summers as a kid, especially when your grandfather would tag along with you. He would always take your hand and smile at you warmly, sometimes even giving you a pouch of coins to spend on your own. You smiled to yourself at the thought. Although he wasn’t walking beside you anymore, you swore you could still feel his familiar energy around you.

Or maybe Emily’s starting to get to me. 

Either way, your excitement only grew at the sight of the booths and games coming together, making sure to stop by your stand and drop off the goods you brought to show off. You were sure each of the items was of top quality and glanced at the other displays to see your competition, though you already knew who you had to beat. You glared at Pierre’s abundant stand, scoffing as you made your way toward Harvey’s clinic. Surely, you would win against the overconfident store owner — you were growing your own crops, after all. 

You poked your head into the clinic, eyes brightening at the sight of your childhood friend. Harvey, too consumed in tidying up, didn’t notice you right away, continuing to rearrange some items in the cabinet and humming to himself. You were suddenly reminded of the image Emily sent you the night before, recalling how, for a split second, you’d thought Harvey looked a bit cute with his flushed cheeks and ears. He’d always gotten a bit pink when he drank, but something about that particular angle of him caught your eye. Maybe it was the fact that he was looking at his phone, no doubt in the middle of texting you? Or maybe it was the dumb smile on his face?

Not that you would ever mention any of that, though. Why would you? They were simply quick thoughts you were having, nothing more.

No, you opted to instead highlight the incredibly stupid looks on his friends’ faces, laughing when he called them lovers. Although you didn’t nearly talk to the other two men as much as he did, you could tell they were all good friends. You were glad Harvey had a circle of support around him — knowing him, he constantly had something to stress over, and you knew you couldn’t always be there for him.

You walked up behind Harvey, giving him an exasperated look when he still didn’t turn around. Half-smiling, you extended your hands toward him, slowly inching closer before poking his sides.

“ Boo! ”

“ Huh —?”

Harvey jumped as he yelped in surprise, dropping several rolls of bandages onto the floor. He bent forward and rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath, all while you died of laughter beside him.

“You know I scare easily!” he complained, standing straight to adjust his glasses. 

“Of course I know,” you replied, wiping a fake tear off your cheek. “That’s why I did it.”

“You will never stop tormenting me, will you?”

“Nope. Not ‘til I drop dead.”

“Great,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. “Were you able to finish all your farmwork this morning?”

You nodded, lips still stretched into a lingering smile. “Pet bowls filled, animals fed, and crops watered — all done.” You glanced around the room, noticing he was alone. “Where’s Maru?”

That’s an innocent question, right? Of course it was. She worked under him, after all, it only made sense to ask why she wasn’t there to help. One thought led to another in your head, and suddenly, you were thinking about the Flower Dance; about how pink Maru’s face had been while talking to Harvey; about the soft shyness covering his face, an expression you didn’t know how to read and would bet your farmland it was because he reserved it for her and her only—

“Oh, I told her to sleep in,” he replied easily, putting the bandages in their proper place. “There wasn’t much to do, so I figured I would just get it out of the way.”

Of course. Of course, he told her to sleep in, because Harvey was and always would be thoughtful, more than you’d ever understand.

“Not much to do, huh?” you repeated, and he nodded.

Without warning, you grabbed Harvey’s arm and began to drag him out of the clinic, ignoring his protests about his unfinished work. 

“You can finish when you get back, Harvey, the clinic isn’t going anywhere,” you said, anticipation filling you as Lewis had just finished looking at all the displays. “Mayor Lewis, hey!” You waved him down, and he greeted both of you with a big smile.

“It’s good to see you two.” He sighed, a wistful look taking over him. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up. Ah, before I forget,” he started, reaching into his pocket. “Y/N, congratulations! You won first place with a rating of a hundred.” You whooped, nearly knocking Harvey over with your excitement as you happily accepted the small bag Lewis gave you. “Here, your prize is a thousand star tokens — use them wisely!”

“A thousand? ” Harvey questioned, peering into the bag. “We used to spend the entire day getting this many tokens.”

“And now, we have a head start,” you said, an old sense of competitiveness creeping its way back into your senses. “Let’s go win some prizes!”

As the plaza began to fill with more and more people, you and Harvey fell back onto your old rhythm — while you took care of all the games requiring strength and technique, he took care of the trickier, mind-twisting ones. Your jaw remained dropped as he stared at the wheel for the seventh time in a row, a finger touching his lips as he thought.

“Green,” Harvey said, to which the man running the game scowled. 

“You sure, bud? You seem awful confident, but your luck might just run out,” he reasoned, though you could tell he was trying to trick him.

Harvey narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure.” 

You laughed giddily as the two of you walked away from the wheel with a heavy sack of tokens, Harvey flaunting a proud look on his face.

“I still don’t get it — how do you do that?” you asked, in awe at his winning streak that had remained unbroken since you first played with him. “You make us tons more compared to that slingshot game!”

He shrugged, putting his hands in his coat pockets. “I mean, after stopping by every year, I started to recognize the pattern. I suppose it’s more statistics, since there’s a much higher chance that—”

“Look who it is!” 

You felt a light punch land on your shoulder as Alex and Haley approached you, watching amusedly as Haley scolded him for hitting you.

“Geez, it wasn’t even that hard,” he mumbled, but lightened up at the sight of your pouch. “You guys won those already?”

“Honestly, it was mostly Harvey,” you admitted, nudging his arm. “Ever since we were kids, he’s always been scarily good at that wheel game. What were you saying, Harvs? Something about statistics, or something?”

No response. 

You looked at him, noticing he was suddenly spacing out and staring at the space in between the two in front of you.

“Harvey? You okay?”

“What?” he questioned, blinking. “Yes, uh, it’s just some simple math, that’s all. Nothing much to it.”

Haley huffed. “Well, can you teach this guy how to do it? ‘Cause whenever I play with him, we never seem to win anything.” Alex opened his mouth to respond, but she paid no mind, opting to walk toward the game Leah was playing instead.

“Wait up!” Just as he was about to turn, Alex looked back at you, grinning. “I’ll see you around, Y/N! Hey, if I have any leftover tokens, I’ll get you something from the prize booth, okay?”

“Deal!” 

After he ran to catch up with the blonde, you turned back to Harvey, cocking your head at the serious look that had hooded over his eyes.

“Um, you sure you’re okay?” you asked, but before you could question him further, he took your arm and led you to the prize booth, gently taking the tokens from your hand. You had never seen him look so determined before, as if he was trying to prove something.

“Here you go, ma’am,” he said, sliding them over to the lady behind the counter. “I believe this should be enough for one of everything you have.”

“One of—? Harvey, what are you doing?!”

That’s how the two of you ended up leaving the Stardew Valley Festival early, Harvey helping you carry home the copious amount of prizes you received.

“You’re sure you don’t want any of this? Come on, Harvs, you practically won all of this yourself,” you said, opening the door to your house. 

Harvey shook his head, smiling as he placed everything in a neat pile at the foot of your bed. You had never seen so many stuffed animals in your life.

“Please, I have no space for any of this in my apartment, anyway.” He looked fondly at the matching bear they’d given the two of you — although yours was obviously more worn down, the design on the new one was the exact same as its counterpart.

You shook your head, pressing the bear back into his arms. “I’ve already got mine, this one can be yours. I can’t have two of the same thing.” You definitely could. Part of you just liked the idea of matching with him.

“If you insist.” He smiled at the stuffed animal in his arms, though it quickly wiped from his face as he turned to leave. “Is that . . .?” You followed his gaze, stomach dropping at what had caught his eye.

He was staring directly at the bouquet you’d hung by your bedside the first morning you had moved in.

Fuck, fuck. He can’t know, I had no idea what those stupid flowers meant back then! You wanted to punch your past self in the jaw for her stupidity. After the Spring season had past, you’d learned the true meaning behind the bouquets Pierre sold, cursing him for not telling you back then. There was no way Harvey could know you bought it with him in mind, not when neither of you saw each other in that way.

Not when he had Maru in mind, supposedly the girl he felt he was constantly gravitating towards.

“Oh, that?” you laughed awkwardly, a cold sweat brewing on your neck. “I bought it for myself!”

He blinked, and for a second, you thought you saw relief flash in his eyes. “Ah, for . . . yourself?”

“Hey, don’t judge,” you responded, crossing your arms. “I just thought they looked nice, so I decided to dry the whole thing to make it last. That’s all.”

“But you do know what a bouquet symbolizes, correct?”

“I do, in fact, know what they mean, Dr. Judgey,” you shot back, feigning offense. “What happened to being a supportive friend?”

“Alright, enough with the dramatism,” he laughed lightly, adjusting his hold on the bear. “I had fun today, Y/N. Um . . . thank you, for spending time with me.”

The tension left your shoulders as you smiled at him. “It’s the least I can do, especially after you got me all this stuff.” You held the door open for him as he left. “Same time next year?” you asked playfully. He managed to salute in agreement with one of his hands, peeking around the stuffed animal’s body to make sure he wasn’t running into anything. 

You spent the rest of the night staring at the flowers on the wall, wondering why your heart clenched whenever you thought back to Harvey seeing them. There was no way he could figure it out, right? As smart as he was, you highly doubted he would think the bouquet was meant for him. You used to visibly gag in front of him whenever people mentioned the idea of you dating him.

So, why were you now having the same reaction at the thought of him dating someone else?

You groaned in frustration into your pillow, lifting your head to look at the pestering flowers once more. You knew it wasn’t fair — it wasn’t fair you were just starting to like him when you’d quite literally had years to do so, and it especially wasn’t fair that he was, in fact, in love with someone else. You couldn’t blame him, though, of course you couldn’t. Maru was smart, pretty, and kind; she lined up with Harvey perfectly.

And yet, there was a part of you screaming there was no one more fitting for him than you. It didn’t matter, though. None of your thoughts mattered if Harvey didn’t see you in that light, if all he saw when he looked at you was his childhood friend who he was able to reconnect with.

You closed your eyes.

It never hurt to pretend, though.

[suethesocks]

Egyptian Ben 10 AU!!

A long while ago i got the idea of making an au where ben is an Egyptian Orthodox Christian (the idea entirely spawned off a joke my friend made about a hypothetical ben like that having to explain his fasting to rook)

At first the idea was gonna be that his parents are Egyptian immigrants and he was born and raised in Bellwood, but last second before finishing his character bio i decided to flip everything over and make this AU *in* Egypt

The timeline i have in mind for these bios are all at around right after the highbreed arc, but also before season 3 straight up starts. I feel like thats a good jumping-on point

In terms of aliens mostly i just get to explore what the aliens would look like as teenagers since uaf and ov didnt really do much with that (they didnt even bother giving wildmutt a tail) and have fun trying to make his flannel into outfits for the aliens. Hoever if i get any cool ideas for entirely revamping aliens id definitely do it

I tried to make fourarms darker skinned not sure if its showing. Id have done the same with stinkfly but the uniforms colorscheme wouldve crashed. I wanted to try giving wildmutt black fur because this ben has darker hair but nothing really quite worked hsjhds wildmutts obnoxious orange is just too iconic

Prep school is mostly an american thing, here the closest equivalent for the early 2000s would be an international school. Also i changed lawyer to doctor as thats the sort of "go-to" job that makes a lot of money, lawyers in egypt arent usually as fortunate

Here she doesnt wear her uniform this is just how she dresses. I tried to fit the cat motif like OS but i couldnt really think of something that fit. If i were drawing UAF or OV gwen in my own take id have given her cat imagery but i think for Jwanas personality it actually makes more sense for her to be boring and lose the cat

Jwanas also a lot more angsty about her magic (and it is magic) since her parents and basically entire surrounding community both Muslim and Christian are very against magic and consider it sin. Shes also a lot more angsty in general because like the bio says shes under alot of stress and is very jealous of ben, which is conflicting because ben is also her best friend and she doesnt wanna feel this sort of animosity to him. She also doesnt realize how much he looks up to her as someone who is a lot more intelligent and disciplined than he'll ever be (for example the concept of jwana having the spark isnt here, ben just can never learn magic because he doesnt have what it takes)

Kevin much like ben is more or less the same as he is in the show. With jwana i went with my own take but Ben and Kevin are more of, culminations of what i think are their best parts in the series and then just fleshing that out more

I felt like the outfit he has in earth-prime works best with a few touchups. Prime kevin has consistently had that rugged guy-who-lives-in-a-garage look so despite being the most basic outfit it works the best with a few touchups

I did change his anatomy, i wanted to make him look like a mutant freak. I gave him this sort of frankenstine's monster posture (a small reference to him being an amalgamation in os). He also has these stretch marks all over his body since his material absorption doesnt just create a coat around him but also alters his skin itself (so these markings arent there for os-era kevin) He also has a lot of weird bumps over his body

This kevin is 100% mutant no alien shenanigans. If i do aggregor i'll uhhh think of something else for him to be. His transition to the lightside is a lot longer and for the majority of the highbreed arc hes not even there hes more of an occasional ally if he feels like helping

Was his dad a plumber or not im not sure tbh, im leaning towards not though

Next post is gonna be a bunch of villains for funsies

[rataccatak]

Analysis of how KaySD draws Sergey Razumovsky

Or: trying to justify a thirstpost about the world's most terrible man

Sergey's gone through a number of artists through the years, and I gotta say, KaySD's rendition has captured my heart. In fact, it was a screenshot of Kay's Sergey that first got me into Major Grom. While Phob's is the official art style that we associate with the comics, Kay's style, I believe, better serves Sergey's character in the current PD run.

Genre-wise, PD returns to being a big-action, ensemble comic, which--compared to The Game's tight conflict and human drama focus--deliberately implements Kay's more traditionally comic-book style to this effect. The first arc (nine volumes in total) of PD are all Kay; though the current issues are being outsourced to a number of different artists now, Kay's style--with its roots in distinctly American superhero comics, such as DC--was what they wanted to prime audience's expectations with. After Time of the Raven, there was a big push for Bubble to adhere their stories to big names like Marvel, and with that came the desire to usher in things like a multiverse, space and supernatural elements, and franchise crossovers. Plague Doctor was one of their latest installments of that new "culture," and they had to match their aesthetics appropriately.

Okay, but that brings me back to the brainrot part of this post, which is HOT DAMN KAY'S SERGEY LOOKS SICK???

The whole idea of Plague Doctor is that, for like seven years or something, Sergey has been declared dead or missing or otherwise MIA. Nobody, both in-universe and irl, knows where he is or what the fuck he's up to. You crack open issue 1, encounter a guy in sunglasses and a hat who is painfully obviously Sergey, but you get to the last page and

(I will say this is probably the most unflattering frame of him. His chin makes him look like such a chad derogatory)

BAM. HOMEBOY IS ROCKING A NEW HAIRCUT, HE'S WEARING ANOTHER STUPID PURPLE SUIT, HE'S RIPPED, AND HE HAS BLUE EYES.

This isn't the soft, sort of angelically beautiful Sergey we're used to seeing from Phobs. It's radically different, an entirely different character almost, which was the intent.

His new look is more practical, both tactically and socially. His hair is cut, so people won't recognize him as easily. It won't get in his face or get grabbed during fights, and combined with his more muscled build, this is a Sergey who's taking things more seriously this time around. Gone is the flamboyant cape and swishing fiery locks; the plague doctor campaign is no longer a passion, but a duty. And he's ready to enter the thunderdome and get his hands dirty and god damn it, he will die trying.

Kay does take care to preserve the core elements of Phob's Sergey, while making a hard left into traditional masc territory. He's still unrealistically attractive, in that distinctly soft and youthful way. He's more noticeably fit but still maintains a slim, smooth appearance.

But on top of that, he adds this charm and charisma to him that is distinctly boyish (as in, young and mischievous, a pretty face that's up to no good). It makes his persona as a young, leftist radical more believable; he looks like a student revolutionaire, angry and passionate about all issues topical and trending.

He does look more obviously aged. Guy is now in his mid(?) thirties, and the past five years probably amounted to like three lifetimes of stress, so it certainly makes sense. Compared to how Kay drew The Game Sergey, his face is more defined with sharper lines, muscularity, and wrinkles. The short hair also ages him somewhat, making him look less angelic and more like... a regular dude.

And of course, there's the overnight peach fuzz.

The more mature, aged look helps him actually look like a person who's lived a life as loaded and fucked up as Sergey's. He's a guy whose parents died, grew up in foster care, became a CEO that rocketed to stardom in five years, committed the most elaborate fucked up terrorist campaign ever, and then immediately fell from fame to the deepest coldest cell in St Petersburg (and this is all just the OG Major Grom run). He's not Phob's Sergey (or Rag, whoever it was in The Game)--a blameless childish pretty boy who's detached from his crimes. Kay does a good job in making Sergey have this subtle undertone of... unsettled, unhinged, what have you. I don't know how much of this is hindsight bias, but he looks like a guy with a fucked up secret. You wouldn't think twice if you were seeing him in a grocery store or something but I can imagine later recognizing his mugshot on the news and thinking wow now that i think about it, he really does look like a serial killer.

And let's talk about his fashion. For all the features of Sergey's flamboyant costumes in Phob's renditions, Kay dresses him quite casually, and it works, ironically, to make him look deceptively plain in the way all extremely rich people dress (think of the $10k white t-shirts and sunglasses get-up all rich men wear). He dresses like his current social stature: a new-money sod who has gotten used to his wealth enough that he doesn't have to show off with his clothes anymore. Of course, this could also be turned on its head and instead, be an indication of Sergey's original, cheap clothes that he habited from his childhood. Certainly, the ironic rightwing graphic tees Kay puts him in edge towards that point of view, only now they're colored by Sergey's sense of political humor. I doubt a "god guns government" shirt is selling for $500 at some luxury tailor shop.

This is what I love about Kay's Sergey. In making him look more human, we get to orient him more organically into our own world. He looks like a thirty year old loser who studied CS in college and now commits cyber terrorism and doesn't know how to cook. He looks like a young adult leftist who is terminally online and has 500+ open tabs on Marxist theory. He looks like a guy who became too rich too young, who was the world's angle and then its devil in the span of like two years, and is now disillusioned with it all, who wears $5 graphic tees and stays up all night looking behind his back and tries desperately to find something that actually matters.

Once Sergey looks more believable, he becomes more understandable. And the more we understand him, the more the story has the potential to make him intrigue and surprise and reach us in multiple, unexpected ways.

[randomatthingy]

An observation on The Stranger

Something that I find interesting about The Stranger is its ties to the Circus and Fairs because, in times before the internet, they were a prime feeder of The Stranger. Picture this, you are living in a small town of 20 or so people in the middle of nowhere. You know everyone, everyone knows you. If something happens, you know about it instantly. You can have a perfect interaction with everyone.

Then they come. A group of people from elsewhere. They come, set up shop in Mr. Whatnot's abandoned field, and then open the gates. Strange colors fill your eyes, unknown scents fill your nose, and you partake in activities that you could have never thought of. All the while, the outsiders that opened the circus or fair do activities that should be impossible for people to do. They swallow swords, breathe fire, and their bodies contort in odd manners. They all wore masks and heavy makeup, so you can't tell their true feelings or emotions. You try and talk to them, but theirs something wrong. You don't know them well enough to have meaningful conversations, and what you can learn is but the surface of who they truly are.

Then, after the weekend, they're gone. You'd expect their big top to take down longer, but it doesn't. They're just gone Monday morning. You will probably never see them again, these outsiders, with their strange games and abilities, masks to hide their identities, and unknown personalities are gone, forever. Maybe they come again, maybe another group like them, but it's always different, a little uncanny. If one of their numbers were to come without a mask or makeup, you wouldn't recognize them, and they would have probably worn many different masks and makeup schemes throughout one night, so you couldn't even place them if you had talked to them.

And sometimes, these outsiders would disappear with someone. The blacksmith's son, or the orchard keeper's daughter. Or they give something. Maybe the old miller has a weird plant he likes to burn now, maybe the general store owner's wife now has a cough, not unlike the lion tamer had, and now the doctor has it too. You know this is linked to the strange people from elsewhere that brought the carnival to town, or maybe not. You wouldn't know. You don't even know what one looks like underneath the mask. You didn't spend enough time with them before they left to recognize their voice. If that doesn't scream Stranger, I don't know what will.

[melishade]

Attack on Prime New Age Anthology: The Message

Main Story

Alright everyone! We are officially starting the New Age Anthology, which will be starting from the Autobot perspective during the last few chapters and the aftermath of Guren No Yumiya. These pieces will be extremely important for the final chapters that will get published once I'm done with my HIATUS. But first, we go back to Retaliation III.

Ratchet waved goodbye to a patient as they left his office after their check up. He lowered his servo before taking a deep breath and sighing. He didn't need to. He had no real use for breathing, but the humans' techniques were rubbing off on him. The doctor than picked up his datapad to update the patient's chart.

Ratchet was...trying his best to heal. Or at the very least, keep himself occupied these days. Part of him was happy to be back home. Another part of him felt guilty for neglecting his duties to Earth. He had sworn to stay there, feeling that was where he was initially needed, but...after everything that happened four years ago with Unicron...and losing Optimus...

Ratchet shook his helm. He didn't need to think about that right now. It still hurt that Optimus was gone, but...his sacrifice wasn't in vain. Cybertron was alive and rebuilding everything that was lost. There's actual peace on the planet. All of their struggles and suffering wasn't for nothing. And...at the very least Optimus can rest easy. Hopefully, Optimus knew that his sacrifice led to a strong legacy. There was still division among the people, and there was still much rebuilding to be had, but progress was being made. And that was something Ratchet himself needed to take joy in.

Ratchet walked over to an energon dispenser and picked up a small cube for himself. He couldn't find himself eating rust sticks or drinking high grade. He wasn't ready for that yet, but it was nice to actually not worry about finding energon or dying from a lack of it. The medic then walked over to a chair situated in front of a computer screen and took a sip of his energon before updating his chart. Ratchet grumbled at the notifications on his datapad. All this work that needed to be done in such little time. Maybe he should get an assistant. That seemed like the best course of action.

Ratchet's audio receptors twitched a little when he heard buzzing on the computer screen next to him. He turned to the screen and saw nothing but static in his vision. Odd. Had the systems malfunctioned again? Ratchet was about to take a look at the wiring, but he stopped when he heard-!

Hello?! Can any hear me?!

Ratchet turned his attention back to the static to see an image forming. It...it was a human. A dark-skinned human male was sending an S.O.S. to Cybertron?! How?! Where was this coming from?! Ratchet saw more of the monitor clearing up and the signal from a planet was coming into view. And that signal...he recognized it...was that from Wheeljack's ship?!

I hope this works because we’ve been scavenging for resources to reach you! My name is Onyankopon! I’m a friend of Wheeljack’s, and we really need your help! Our world is ravaged by the power of the titans, and they have been used to enslave and dominate the world for over 2,000 years! And there’s someone who wants to activate millions of Colossal Titans and use its power to flatten and burn the world into ash! Every nation, every person, every tree and flower will be destroyed if this power is activated! And the longer we wait, the higher chance this power will get activated and end the world! The people in my country will be destroyed if you don’t help!

Ratchet was taken aback by the slew of information. Wheeljack was working with humans?! Colossal Titans?! Wait, what about Arcee?! Where in the Allspark was she?! Ratchet then saw another human come into view of the video message.

My name is Hanji Zoe: Commander of the Survey Corps! I’ve been working tirelessly to stop the Rumbling from happening! So have Wheeljack and Arcee! And so has Optimus!

Ratchet dropped both the datapad and the energon still in his servos. He couldn't listen to the rest of the message as this 'Hanji Zoe' continued rambling on. Optimus...Optimus was...no that's impossible. Optimus wasn't...isn't! Alive?! How?! Ratchet watched him die! He couldn't be alive! Ratchet found that his servos were trembling in fear. What did this mean?! What was going on?!

"Evening, Doctor." Knockout greeted as he walked into the room. The former Decepticon paused when he saw the message playing on the screen of the two humans screaming out in desperation.

We just want peace! We just want to live! So please help us!

Help us save our world! Please! HELP US!

Knockout watched the message cut to static before somehow replaying again. "Ratchet, what's-..." His word died in his throat when Ratchet turned to him with sheer panic etched into his faceplates.

"Go get Ultra Magnus and the others! NOW!" Ratchet barked at him.

===

Ratchet was hunched over on a bench, tapping his pede impatiently. Bumblebee was pacing back and forth around the room while Bulkhead crossed his arms, looking worried himself. Ultra Magnus was currently talking to Knockout regarding the video that assumingly came from Wheeljack's ship. Smokescreen was the last to arrive, running down the hall to meet up with his comrades.

"Sorry, I'm late," Smokescreen apologized, "What did I miss?"

"Some humans sent an S.O.S. from Wheeljack's ship," Bulkhead explained.

"Is Wheeljack in danger?!" Smokescreen exclaimed.

"Maybe," Bulkhead confessed "The humans sounded urgent."

"So then, shouldn't we go help Wheeljack and Arcee?! They need us right!" Smokescreen proclaimed.

"It got complicated," Bumblebee explained, but didn't stop his pacing.

"Complicated how?!" Smokescreen demanded.

"They're saying Optimus is alive," Bumblebee answered.

"Whoa, what?!" Smokescreen yelled.

"Knockout, are you sure?" Ultra Magnus questioned the medic.

"Look, I did pick up a thing or two from Soundwave, and I've run diagnostics multiple times." Knockout pointed to the screen with the two humans, "That thing is real."

"Run it again!" Ratchet ordered him.

"I. Already. Have!" Knockout enunciated, "There's nothing else besides those coordinates that came from the ship!"

"If there were humans using Wheeljack's ship to send a message, Wheeljack had to be the one that taught them how to do it," Bulkhead surmised.

"But Optimus being alive?!" Smokescreen spoke up, "I can't tell if it's a good or bad thing!"

"Optimus being alive can very well be a lie," Bumblebee proclaimed, "Before you were part of the team, we've had one too many calls with clones and doppelgangers. We can't take this lightly...even if the humans on the call sound desperate."

"What do we do?" Ratchet demanded, "What in the Allspark do we even say? Do we tell the council about this? How in the Allspark did Optimus end up on another planet full of humans? If that even is him?!"

"...I'm gonna contact Raf," Bumblebee declared as he walked up to the computer screen.

"Bee, I doubt Rafael is going to be much help," Knockout proclaimed, "If anything, he'll probably get the same results I have: that it's authentic."

"We need to be sure." The screen lit up and the familiar sound of a ringing phone was heard. The screen then changed to show an adult Rafael in a lab coat waving to them.

"Bee, it's been so long!" Rafael greeted with a smile.

"Hey, Raf," Bumblebee greeted with a tight smile, "Can you help us out with something?"

"Oh, look at that! The Bots only call us when they need something!" Miko jabbed at them as she came into view.

"For Primus' sake, Miko! This is important!" Ratchet shouted in anger.

"Whoa! Ratchet what's wrong?!" Jack demanded out of confusion.

"Something came up." Bumblebee typed something before sending the message over to Rafael, "Can you scan this to see if there's been any alterations?"

"Sure." Rafael noticed the message coming up on his screen and began to type away to inspect it. "Colossal Titans? Apocalypse? Whoa! Optimus is alive!"

"Shit! WHAT?!" Miko screeched.

"I thought you guys said you all watched him dive into the center of Cybertron!" Jack recalled.

"We did! But these humans are saying that he's alive!" Bumblebee explained.

"When was this sent?!" Rafael demanded.

"We don't know, the signal was weak!" Knockout answered.

"Shouldn't we go check it out?!" Miko insisted.

"This could very well be deception," Ratchet reminded, "We take this chance, we could very well be falling into a trap."

"But what about Optimus?!" Smokescreen exclaimed, "We can't leave him, right?!"

"We don't know if it's him," Bulkhead reminded.

"But shouldn't we go and find out!" Smokescreen turned to Bumblebee, "Bee, back me up here!"

Bumblebee looked at Smokescreen with apprehension. "Smokescreen...I don't know...I really don't want to get my hopes up here."

"But don't you want to go and check it out?!" Smokescreen pressed on.

Bumblebee's shoulders slumped in defeat before he covered his optics. "By the Allspark, I do really want to see if it's true."

"Wait, are we really going down there on the off chance that this message is real and Optimus is somehow alive?!" Knockout demanded.

"I do not believe for one second that Optimus Prime is alive," Ultra Magnus spoke up, "But based on the urgency of the message, Wheeljack and Arcee may very well be in immediate danger, and we need to help the comrades that are still alive. We need to go to this planet, investigate it, and bring Arcee and Wheeljack back home."

"What are you going to tell the council about Optimus?" Bumblebee asked.

"Nothing," Ultra Magnus answered, "That portion of the report can be false. I will just tell them this is a rescue operation for our Autobots."

"We should come too!" Jack declared on the other end of the call, "If this planet has humans, then you'll need us now more than ever to be your face!"

"Very well." Ultra Magnus nodded his helm, "Speak with Agent Fowler to get your equipment ready!"

"On it!" Miko immediately ran off the screen.

"I'm helping triangulate coordinates!" Rafael furiously typed on the keyboard.

"As for the rest of you!" Ultra Magnus addressed the Autobots, "Cancel any and all plans you have for today! The mission is top priority now! I will get the Iron Will prepared for transport! Knockout, Ratchet, prepare the medical bay for anyone injured! Bumblebee, Smokescreen, Bulkhead, get any weapons for an offensive attack! Dismissed!"

"Yes, sir!" The Autobots immediately dispersed to perform their individual tasks. As Bumblebee followed Smokescreen down the hall, the Warrior paused in his step. He remembered a plan he had today and activated his comm. link.

==

Rung was quietly taking notes in his office and organizing his schedule for the next few days. The therapist turned his attention to the window, seeing the bustling life of Cybertron, and smiled. He was extremely happy to see how everything was flourishing. There was still much to be rebuilt, but he was happy to see life returning to his home once again.

Rung blinked when he heard the familiar 'ping' of his comm. link in his audio receptor. "Hello?"

"Hey, Rung," Bumblebee greeted.

"Hello, Bumblebee," Rung greeted with a smile, "Is everything alright? I'm still expecting you for your appointment in an hour, right?"

"Yeah, I'm...gonna have to cancel. I'm sorry," Bumblebee apologized, "I know it's last minute, and I'll pay the cancelation fee soon. I promise."

"Oh no. What happened?" Rung asked with concern.

"Well...looks like you were right about me seeing Arcee and Wheeljack sooner rather than later." Rung felt his spark drop at Bumblebee's words, "But it sounds like they're in trouble, so the Bots and I need to help them out. I don't know how long it will take-!"

"I understand, Bumblebee," Rung replied with a tight voice, "Go save your comrades. And consider the cancelation fee waived."

"Wait, are you sure?" Bumblebee asked in surprise, "I swear I can-!"

"I know for a fact that Arcee is important to you," Rung declared, "Bring her home."

"Thank you, Rung," Bumblebee sighed with relief, "I'll make it up; I swear."

"Good luck, Bumblebee." Rung had disconnected his call with Bumblebee before calling the front desk, "Cancel all appointments for the rest of the day."

"Rung, are you sure?" the receptionist asked in surprise.

"Yes, something came up," Rung replied, "Take the day off. I'll be closing the office early and you will be given paid time off."

"Oh...um...thank you,"

"You're welcome." Rung disconnected the call before sitting up from his desk, abandoning his work in the process. The therapist removed his glasses and threw them on the desk. He began to walk around the room, rubbing his optics in frustration. He stared at the ceiling, trying to hold back his tears, but he couldn't help it and they began to fall.

Rung collapsed to his knees and fell forward. His servos clenched into fists and openly wept.

"Optimus, forgive me," Rung pleaded, "Forgive me for my inaction and mistakes. Forgive me, please."

(And the New Age Anthology begins! The publishing schedule? IDK. It'll be erratic, probably. But I hope you guys enjoy what I'm going to put out!)

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Scenes from the Gaza Strip, where local residents and family members say their farewells for Palestinian journalist Salem Abu Tyour and his young son. The pair were killed on Monday following an Israeli occupation airstrike targeting their residential home in the Al-Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip. At least 142 journalists have been killed by the Israeli occupation forces since Oct. 7th. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🚀🚀🏘️💥 🚨

ENDLESS BOMBINGS MARK THE 206TH DAY OF "ISRAEL'S" GENOCIDAL WAR IN GAZA

On the 206th day of "Israel's" ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 5 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 47 Palestinians, mostly women and children, while another 61 others have been wounded over the previous 24-hours.

In a conversation with the families of Israeli hostages held by the Hamas Resistance movement in Gaza, the Israeli occupation Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, told the families that the IOF would invade Rafah regardless of any truce deals made with the Palestinian Resistance.

“The idea that we will stop the war before achieving all its aims is not an option,” the occupation's Prime Minister is quoted as saying to the families.

“We will enter Rafah and we will eliminate the Hamas battalions there — whether or not there is a deal — in order to achieve total victory.”

In a statement released by the Prime Minister's office, it is claimed that the families of the hostages urged Netanyahu, and National Security Advisor Tzachi Hanegbi, to continue the war and resist international pressure.

More than 1.7 million Palestinians are currently packed into the small southern Gazan city of Rafah, with most living in giant tent cities erected following the Israeli bombardment and invasion of the northern Gaza Strip, early in the war.

In a report published by the International humanitarian medical organization, Medicines Sans Frontières (MSF), also known as Doctor's Without Borders, the organization describes dire healthcare conditions for the civilian population now displaced and living in Rafah, warning that Palestinians face severe risk of disease outbreak due to the harsh living conditions in the city, and the systematic destruction of the Palestinian healthcare system in Gaza.

"The lives of people who fled bombardment are now at risk due to the looming threat of disease outbreaks in Rafah, where living conditions are dire, where there is a desperate shortage of clean water for drinking or bathing, and where rubbish and raw sewage accumulate in the streets," MSF warns in its report.

"People’s needs are skyrocketing and the healthcare system no longer has the capacity to respond. One by one, hospitals in Gaza are being rendered inoperable as they are attacked, damaged or destroyed by Israeli forces, or have insufficient fuel and other supplies to provide services."

MSF further warns that it is "gravely concerned" about what the devastation of the healthcare system will mean in Gaza for many years to come.

MSF goes on to point to the "few medical facilities" that still function, which are being pushed to the brink, "overwhelmed with patients with conflict-related trauma injuries."

"As a result, people with other types of medical needs, such as pregnant women with complications and people living with chronic conditions, are unable to receive the care they require."

MSF goes on to warn that "Gaza’s entire healthcare system has been decimated and the population is under siege. Without access to medical care, thousands more lives will be lost, beyond those killed in the Israeli bombardments seen in the news – these are Gaza’s 'silent killings'."

At the same time that MSF warns of the collapse of Gaza's healthcare system, the Palestinian Civil Defense of the Gaza Strip appealed to the International community to pressure the Israeli occupation to allow the entry of specialized equipment for the removal of bodies from Gaza, and to exhume those buried under collapsed buildings.

According to Gaza's Civil Defense, more than 10'000 missing Palestinians remain buried under the rubble of their homes and shelters, with crews unable to recover them due to continued Israeli destruction and the lack of specialized equipment.

They warned that this leaves Civil Defense personnel in a precarious situation in which they attempt to recover the bodies of the dead as buildings continue to collapse around them.

The Civil Defense further warned of the accumulation of thousands of bodies under the rubble, which already begins to spread disease and cause epidemics as high temperatures accelerate the rate of decomposition.

The Palestinian Civil Defense further added that working without specialized equipment would mean it could take 2 to 3 years to recover the bodies of the dead, estimating that over 37 million tonnes of rubble is strewn across the Gaza Strip.

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation's bombardment across Gaza continued unabated, and further intensified over the last several days, with Israeli airstrikes pummeling the southern and central Gaza Strip, while bombings also continued in the north.

In one of the latest Zionist atrocities, IOF warplanes bombed a residential building belonging to the Al-Afifi family, in the Tal al-Sultan neighborhood, west of Rafah City, in the south of Gaza, resulting in the deaths of four Palestinian women, all sisters.

Occupation airstrikes also targeted agricultural lands west of Rafah, luckily without any casualties, while Israeli occupation gunboats continued shelling Rafah's western coastline.

Also in the south of Gaza, local Civil Defense crews said they'd recovered the bodies of 6 Palestinian victims of Israeli occupation bombings from buildings in the Al-Amal neighborhood, west of Khan Yunis.

Later in the day, occupation bombing targeted the Ma'an neighborhood of the same city.

Elsewhere, Israeli fighter jets bombarded a civilian home belonging to the Akhil family, in the Al-Daraj neighborhood of Gaza City, in the north of the Palestinian enclave, killing the family's grandfather along with his grandson.

The Zionist atrocities continued when an IOF aircraft bombed another residential home on Al-Sikka Street, east of the Jabalia Refugee Camp, in the northern Gaza Strip, resulting in a number of casualties.

The Israeli occupation continued its war crimes with an airstrike on a residential house belonging to the Abu Tuyur family, in the vicinity of the Al-Qudsi supermarket in the "Camp 1" area of the Al-Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, martyring three civilians.

Further atrocities were committed when an IOF warplane bombed a home east of the Al-Masdar neighborhood in the central Gaza Governate, while at the same time, Zionist artillery detatchments shelled the Nuseirat Camp with an intense mortar bombardment.

Occupation air forces further bombed a house in the Al-Tuffah neighborhood of Gaza City, slaughtering two more civilians and wounding a number of others.

Simultaneously, Israeli fighter jets bombed the Al-Daraj and Sheikh Radwan neighborhoods of Gaza City.

Zionist occupation forces continued its bombardment on neighborhoods west of Rafah City, in Gaza's south, while also launching several raids targeting the outskirts of Beit Hanoun, in the northern Gaza Strip.

Occupation shelling also targeted the Juhr al-Dik area of central Gaza, while also shelling the southern neighborhoods of Gaza City.

According to local sources, as a result of the Israeli occupation's intensified bombardment of the Gaza Strip yesterday, at least 34 civilians were killed, of which, 26 were killed in the Rafah area.

Meanwhile, the occupation renewed its bombardment in the morning, with several casualties recorded across various areas of the enclave.

Intense occupation airstrikes centered on the northern and western neighborhoods of the Nuseirat Camp, resulting in the deaths of four Palestinian civilians, and also wounding at least 15 others.

Three occupation airstrikes also targeted the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, resulting in the martyredom of three civilians and the wounding of 10 others.

Zionist fighter jets continued its crimes by by repeatedly bombing the town of Jabalia, along with the Refugee Camp of the same name outside the town, both in Gaza's north, resulting in the wounding of 7 civilians, including 3 children.

Israeli artillery shelling also targeted the Al-Bureij and Al-Maghazi Refugee Camps, along with shelling the Tal al-Hawa, Sheikh Ajlin, and Al-Zaytoun neighborhoods of Gaza City. Zionist shelling additionally targeted the Sheikh Zayed neighborhood of Beit Lahiya.

Israeli artillery similarly targeted residential homes in the eastern neighborhoods of Khan Yunis.

As a result of "Israel's" ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the current death toll in the Palestinian enclave has risen to exceed 34'535 Palestinians killed, including over 14'690 children and 9'680 women, while another 77'704 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

April 30th, 2024

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#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[lets-try-some-writing]

Sparkless

Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots, is neither a Prime nor a Cybertronian at all. He knows this now, as do the team. And with that revelation, everything has begun to come crashing down.

Previous part here.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

There was a profound silence in the base as every single spark within froze in horror. The team stood still as stone, watching as Ratchet shook and laughed in exhaustion. Optimus laid on the ground, unable to move but struggling to see through the tears that formed in his optics as all that he knew came tumbling down. Ratchet, unable to keep his secret, laughed and laughed as he explained. All the while, those present could hardly comprehend what was happening.

Ratchet: I had no choice. Orion was dying. My friend was sick and there was NOTHING I could do to save him. We needed a leader, someone who could guide us... and so I made Optimus Prime. A clone body infused with the CNA of past Primes, a super computer within a Matrix shell, and an AI modeled after Orion Pax and altered to become what we needed.

Arcee: Why... why couldn't you have just made a real clone? The Decepticons have done that with their Vehicons for millennia-

Ratchet: I could have made it living, but that left too much room for deviation... I did all this for the Autobots. I spent every cycle seeing a machine wear the face of my friend so that we could have a chance for victory. Do you really think we would have lasted this long without my creation?

Bulkhead: We could have TRIED Ratchet! You didn't need to make some sort of construct to fill in the void!

Ratchet: But didn't I? The Autobots would have fallen apart and been horribly weakened without Orion. We would have splintered and Megatron would have won... so I made a perfect Prime, a perfect leader, and an unstoppable warmachine... although it was not intended to adapt this much. It was not meant to become so lifelike.

Smokescreen: Artificial life... that's- that's heresy.

Ratchet: You think I don't know that? I should have shut it down long ago. I should have wiped its AI once Bumblebee was no longer in need of direct care... But I didn't.

Bumblebee: All of this was just one huge lie? Why couldn't you have told anyone the truth? Why couldn't you have told Optimus?!

Ratchet: What would that have done Bumblebee? Optimus believed it was alive, I made it that way. You all would have destroyed me and my creation. I willingly accept that fate, but not until this war is OVER.

Ratchet: Until then, until this war is finished, I will fight against death and ensure that my creation fulfills its function... regardless of the consequences.

Ratchet stared down coldly at the lifeform he devised, watching in forced apathy as Optimus twitched and tried to cry. Ratchet's spark cried out in agony as the sheer level of emotion in his creation's optics, but the medic merely grabbed Optimus by the back of his neck guard and hauled him into the medical bay, not even waiting for the team to follow. Once Optimus was strapped down, Ratchet paused in his efforts and looked to the team with one question.

"I can purge its AI right here, right now... is that what you want?"

There was no emotion in the doctor's voice as he inserted a connecter into the back of Optimus's helm. The once Prime wept but could not make a sound as he looked to Ratchet pleadingly. The team for their part were still in a state of shock, but the moment Ratchet pulled up a program on his console, Bumblebee was the first to break free and grab the medic's arm.

"Stop! You would be killing him!"

"It is not alive, merely a construct I created for a sole purpose of which it has yet to complete. Leaving it in its current state could possibly lead to its AI going rouge. It was not designed to withstand the truth of its nature."

"Optimus is a HE! And HE has the right to live just as much as any of us!"

Seeing Bumblebee's resolve, the rest of the team were quick to take his side. Arcee and Bulkhead raised their weapons and stood between Ratchet and their leader as Smokescreen hurriedly undid the restraints keeping Optimus bound. Ratchet observed silently before nodding once and closing down the program that he had been preparing to run to wipe his creation's AI clean. It would have been a pain to work with a fresh Optimus AI, but Ratchet was more than willing if asked. He could not input the command on his own... not when his creation was so very full of life. But if ordered, he would obey.

His spark sang with relief when he was commanded to step away, even though his logical processors dictated that now that he was exposed, eliminating his work was the best option. If the Decepticons ever got their servos on the tech he developed to create Optimus, they would be unstoppable. And while it was a logical and valid concern, Ratchet similarly did not hesitate when commanded to let Optimus move again. He issued the release order dismissively and immediately turned back to the scans of Optimus's AI that were taken as the AI in question proceeded to fall to the ground and weep.

The team huddled around their leader, reassuring and comforting him despite knowing what he was. Seeing their reactions, a small part of Ratchet wanted to feel joy. His creation was being accepted despite its heretical nature. If nothing else...

A remnant of Orion Pax endured.

Things changed again and quite drastically around the base in response to the drama. Ratchet became all but a complete exile. He couldn't be killed or otherwise removed due to his medical knowledge and expertise regarding all things Optimus, but he also was not regarded fondly. Arcee was outright hostile and often did her best to make his life difficult without impacting the rest of the team. More than once Ratchet found his energon laced with something or other intended to make his tanks churn. He tended to meet her gaze, glare, and chug the whole thing right in front of her. He knew punishment was what he deserved, and he accepted it.

Bulkhead, and Wheeljack once he returned and was filled in, both kept to the habit of simply serving as Optimus's body guards in a way. They never left the false Prime alone in the same room with Ratchet, and even when they were all together as a team, they kept the medic from his creation at all costs. Smokescreen for his part tried to play moral support as much as possible and did everything in his power to keep the team from trying to murder Ratchet. There was a degree of appreciation in the medic's spark at the rookie's actions, but deep down every single bot knew that the only reason Ratchet still lived was because he was needed.

Heresy, traitorous behavior, lying, scheming, unholy artificial intelligence creation, blasphemy, unethical experimentation. The list went on. If he were on Cybertron, he would be lucky to only have a quick execution and his creation dismantled and throw in the deep archives to never be touched again.

Bumblebee was the only one of the team who seemed to be less angry and more understanding. Ratchet played a significant role in his rearing, and for that reason, Bumblebee seemed to be able to sniff out the fact that Ratchet had good intentions in creating Optimus Prime. The scout, despite lacking a voice, took up a role as temporary leader while the true commander of the Autobots dealt with an identity crisis to rival those who underwent empurata.

It was fine. Ratchet kept to himself and did not so much as look in Optimus's direction whenever the Prime emerged from his room to do something or other. However the odd glances he stole showed that his creation was hurting in every conceivable way. Betrayal shone in Optimus's optics as well as confliction so deep that it was obvious even from a distance. From what snippets Ratchet observed, Optimus did not know how to act anymore. He refused to offer Bumblebee any affection, seemingly fearful of what his actions meant. He second guessed every decision he was asked to make and only found himself able to move with fluency in combat where a swirling sea of thoughts was nearly impossible to maintain.

Relics were gathered, the team continued with their cold disregard for Ratchet, and Optimus clung to sanity by a mere string. He never uttered a word, but late in the night, Ratchet could hear him crying. The children were never informed of what had occurred, nor were the human government agents made aware. It was none of their concern. But of course, eventually Ratchet reached a breaking point when he traversed the halls late one night and found Optimus's door open, with the mech in question huddled up against the wall weeping. Optimus jolted when he entered, but Ratchet did not stop in his steps as he approached, knelt down beside his creation, and promptly began running scans.

"Why are you here, Ratchet?"

"You are my creation and our leader. It is my duty to tend to you."

"You were willing to kill me."

"Of course I was. You are an artificial intelligence, and I am sure you know from Orion's memory that such technology when combined with emotion can create... devastating effects."

"Then why leave me alive? Why create me at all?"

"Because we need a Prime. Your mission has not yet been completed. This war is still not won. Only once that is done are you permitted to be shut down."

"You won't let me die... will you?"

"No. You were too costly to make and currently hold far too much value to destroy. Do not forget, you are still Primus's chosen to the rest of the galaxy."

"I see. So it does not matter what I want, or what I feel. I am a fake anyway..."

"I will make you a promise Optimus."

"And what might that be?"

"When the time comes for you to be decommissioned, we shall die together."

"But you are a real Cybertronian. Why would you-?"

"I could theoretically make more like you, Optimus. That knowledge is dangerous. Not to mention, it is only right I receive punishment for desecrating the CNA and memory of my oldest friend."

"And so I must march on."

"Yes. Until this war is won. Then I will not stop you from choosing death."

"Very well."

A deal was made, and despite the pain that dwelled within both of them, Ratchet took comfort in his creation, and Optimus in his maker. There was understanding between them, a purpose which was to be fulfilled. When that was done, their sorrow would not matter anymore.

That was the truth they shared. And so as the weeks passed by, Optimus still wept, not accepting Ratchet's offer to shut down his emotional systems. Optimus's reasoning was that despite being artificial, he wanted to feel every single emotion. He wanted to enjoy the echo of life and pretend, if only for a while, that he was who he once thought himself to be. He focused himself on trying to go back to normal, only allowing himself to lament in the dead of night. As for Ratchet? He observed in silence and only allowed the guilt of all he had done to drown out all else when the others were not present.

He desecrated his friend, he destroyed his legacy.

All for the Autobots.

[bijoumikhawal]

Bite the Hand that Starves You: Chapter Four

Fic as of this chapter contains: discussion of abortion, references to drug use, intersex and trans characters, torture/graphic violence, colonialism and its aftermath, implied sexual violence, disassociation

Kardasi: Peikirvi - would translate to something like "concubine", specifically refers to an individual that socially presents as male, and was assigned such at birth, but can carry children (and often could impregnate someone else), who is legally bound to someone. Usually this is done with a pre-existing couple who has fertility issues.

---

It wasn't a baby. In terminating it, you were admitting that- it wasn't a baby. It never breathed, thought, or spoke.

Garak wished there was something physical that made sense. He knows if he asked, they'd show him some vial, or petri dish, with an unidentifiable clump, and that didn't feel right. It didn't feel like something worth funding over. In terminating it, you were admitting that it wasn't.

It wasn't a baby, so of course it didn't look like one, and it wasn't worth fussing over. Not once it was gone, anyway.

“Everything checks out.” Dr. Ammshah said. “I also talked over a few options for your care going forward with Dr. Bashir. First, I know you said you wished to keep all your organs, but we still can do a tubal detachment-"

“No.”

“I thought you might say that.” Dr. Ammshah looked away- purposely a display of deference. “In that case, there are implants available which don’t need to be replaced more than once every kashmim. It’s a lot longer lasting than the shots preferred in the Federation, and if you ever want to have children, it’s not too difficult to remove. I know you’ve had issues with an implant before, so let me reassure you: this implant has no electrical components. The worst it can do is move somewhere it shouldn’t.” She's rolled her sleeves up- most likely a nervous habit. It reveals inked scars on her forearms.

Garak thought for a moment. “Doctor Bashir.” The observation of her arms is distant and evokes no feeling in him. He knew from the moment Julian said her name why she had been eager to help him in particular.

His head turned to Garak quickly- he hadn't stopped paying attention, but hadn't expected to be called upon. “Yes?”

“If I were to do shots, would I be allowed to keep the doses on hand and self administer them, or would I have to come to the infirmary every time?” His own arms are unmarked. It was too dangerous, given who would see his bare skin, for Tolan to give into that form of sentiment- to permanently have Garak carry evidence with him.

“Normally I give patients a few doses and they self administer. I see no reason why you'd be different.” It was not said with anything but pure neutrality.

“I wanted to be sure. I'd rather use the shots, in that case.” His name would have become fetid in her mouth if she knew of Garak outside the boundaries of this room and those marks.

“Would you like me to go ahead and give you the first dose?”

Garak nodded. No more incidents like this. At last.

The first time he sees Kel, the stripes of her childhood have faded, and he assumes she is Barkan’s. So did everyone else. As her age of emergence approached, its clear to everyone they'd assumed wrong. One time at Bamarren, in the garden, and Barkan a week late coming back for Palandine's cycle-

It must've been embarrassing, when Barkan realized. Most peikirvi fucked the wife too, at least once. Historically, it was thought all they did was transfer the husband's seed, with a little of themselves- ultimately, they were not recorded as the father in that case. They knew better now.

Barkan never allows the two of them in the same bed without him as a physical barrier. They went back to Prime a few times- Garak has his own room in the historic Lokar home after the ceremony.

Dr. Bashir put the hypospray down next to his hand. “I'll go ahead and have the pharmacy retrieve a few more doses for you so they're ready when you leave.”

Garak’s hand curled around the handle. “Thank you, doctor.”

The round circle of metal (always cold) went a half inch past the end of his neck ridges, under the chin, like always.

He never sleeps well there. He kept remembering- one time he'd been helping prepare guest rooms, and fell asleep on top of an heirloom silk quilt. Mila never locked him in a closet, but she'd roll out a mat of rough sticks and make him kneel on it in front of the estate cenotaphs for hours.

He'd lived decently on his own as an Order agent, but never that decently.

“Do you have any questions for me?” Dr. Ammshah asked.

“No.” He'd already dismissed the one from earlier. Except- “If this happens again, will Dr. Bashir need to call on you?”

She turned to him. Like with now, and the examination, she'd had Dr. Bashir take careful watch. “I think that may be something at his discretion. Normally, I would have someone observe quite a few procedures before trying to undertake one. But usually I'm dealing with residencies, not a full fledged doctor. Most likely, I'd still end up supervising over video at least.”

Dr. Bashir inclined his head. “I do think I’d be able to handle it, but yes, I would most likely call you just in case.”

The Lokars have silk quilts too- they'd been very fashionable, six to eight generations ago. Barkan has him on top of one once. The whole time Garak is thinking about the launderer, a quiet young thing, and wondering how the hell he was going to clean it.

The Garak cenotaph on Tain’s estate was blank in his childhood (Tolan is on it now), but the message was clear- you will die here.

Garak nodded and leaned back. “I don't plan on this happening again.”

It was better if it wasn't a baby. If it was, where would he bury it? Where you buried your dead was your home. What name would be put on the cenotaph he did not have, on a station with no soil deeper than his knee?

---

Jabara sat next to him, jarring him out of his thoughts. “You're three hours into overtime today.”

Julian wished he could say he hadn't noticed, but he had. Perfect internal clock and everything.

Dr. Ammshah would be leaving in a few days. A check up after a day, a few days of buffer in case of a last minute emergency, then she'd be on her way back to Vulcan. Which left him with one less pair of hands soon.

“I'm just trying to make sure everything goes smoothly.” Julian rubbed a hand over his face. “How's setting up the storage bay going?”

“It's going fine. It hasn't really been used since the last time we needed it, so it didn't need to be cleared out.”

He had been to send his earliest cases home with a minder. That freed up eight beds, with more flagged as being viable to go home under the same conditions. However, he still had more patients coming in- both newly ill and those who'd tried to tough out what they'd assumed was a bad dining choice at first. The surgical suite had a few beds in it now.

Calculations in his head guessed that at least they'd seen a slowdown starting the day Dr. Ammshah left. “That's good. Are any beds ready yet?”

“A few. Yaatare wants to move the first patient over in the next hour or so.”

“I'll want to look things over first.”

“I know. And I was hoping I'd have to comm you to tell you instead of finding you still here.” Jabara stared scalpels in the side of his head.

“Everyone's doing overtime right now.”

“When was your last day off?”

Julian sighed. “Jabara-”

“You're comfortable telling off the rest of the medical staff and any Starfleet officer you see for poor work habits like too much overtime, but you set a poor example.” Jabara leaned back. “You asked me to be blunt with you from the beginning sir, so- it gives the impression that you're a hypocrite, or that you don't trust your staff.”

Julian flinched. It wasn't the first time Jabara told him that- the fact that she fully took him up fully on the request to be blunt was why he preferred working with her. “You want me to check on the storage bay and go back to my quarters.”

“At least. I also frankly don't want to hear you came back here any sooner than eight hours from now. Ten would be better.”

Julian put his hands up. “Alright. I'll go.”

---

Quark’s was perhaps not the best place to unwind if your stress came from how busy you were. Normally the sights- bright lights, Dabo attendants covered in glitter and rhinestones, flashes of brilliant color everywhere- sounds- shrieks of delight and anger, the wheels turning, glass clinking, conversations- smells- all kinds of food, astringent alcohol, a bit of sweat, cleaner (Quark never allowed vomit to sit the way he never let a paying customer's glass sit empty)- made it exciting.

Right now, Julian was just regretting his choices, holed up in a corner alone. Quark had taken one look at him and mixed something without even asking what he was in the mood for- it was vaguely reminiscent of a hot toddy. Julian found he didn't mind it.

He wiped the red foam from the corner of his mouth and sighed.

“I don't usually see you here by yourself.”

Julian managed a smile as Jadzia slid into the seat across from him. “Well I'm not by myself now, am I?”

“Mm. Is this how it usually works for you?”

“How what works?”

“Dates. You sit alone, looking sad and pretty, and someone eventually walks over.”

“Ah, so I'm pretty.” Julian said, sipping his drink. “And no, usually I'm here for fun and enjoying myself.”

Jadzia peered at his mug. “Oh, Quark gave you a Sweet Howler.” She grimaced a bit. “I heard kunowaat was going around. I didn't realize it was this bad.”

How badly was this going to hit him in the morning? Julian sighed. “It's not the worst thing to deal with. A steady, high, clean water intake, and a constant drip of diozaine, and basically anyone who catches it will live. It's just resource intensive and… annoying."

“I can imagine. I'm glad I'm vaccinated.”

“We've been working on that.” Julian muttered. “I told other Starfleet Medical doctors on Bajor to make it a top priority, but the problem with Bajorans and vaccines…”

“We still haven't built up everyone's trust after the Occupation.”

“No. Especially not in rural areas, like where it started this time.” Julian looked up at her. “Enough about work. How have you been? Any interesting holosuite programs you've discovered?”

Are you alright after the Joining Council almost let you die to save themselves some face?

“I've been okay. And no, no new interesting programs have made their way into my clutches.”

I've been okay, often meant something very different, Julian found.

“And which ones does the major like?” Julian asked.

“I don't think she has a preference yet.”

“Really?”

Jadzia shrugged. “She likes a little of everything, and nothing in its entirety out of what I've introduced her to. We've been trying out more programs recently…” she cocked her head. “Some people are just a bit picky. That makes it all the more special when you do find what they like.”

Interesting.

“How has Bareil been?”

Jadzia gave him a puzzled look. “Why would I know?”

Julian tapped his fingers on the side of his mug. “You just mentioned you've been with the major a lot lately. I thought she might’ve mentioned something.”

Jadzia doesn't quite buy it, still giving him an odd look. “She hasn't, really. Since when are you interested in what vedeks are doing, Julian?”

“Well, he's not just any vedek. If I'm to live right next to Bajor I ought to know what's going on with… politics.”

Jadzia squinted at him. “Do you know something I don't?”

“About Bareil? No.”

“Hm.” Jadzia leaned back.

“Are you going to report me to Odo?” Julian said lightly.

Jadzia softened a bit, not that she was especially hardened in the first place. “For all I know, he put you up to asking me.” She looked around, then peeked under the table. “Doesn't look like he's nearby, though.”

“You can't tell.”

“Well, not anymore.” Jadzia admitted. “It used to be something was a little off about whatever form he took. He's gotten better recently. A spare jacket in one of the labs turned out to be him and made me jump half a Quark into the air a few days ago.”

Julian snickered. “Half a Quark… I'll have to remember that one.”

---

Garak sat on the floor.

His holding cell was now an apartment. A ransacked apartment- Garak had accidentally slept in his shop last night, and Dukat hadn’t hesitated to seize the opportunity to target him in his tantrum- but just. An apartment.

He wondered if he'd be pushing his luck to request different quarters now.

He looked around, taking stock, and halted on an ajar wall panel. He yanked at it, heart pounding, and the metal bent- the red box was still there. Garak cradled it in his lap for a moment.

The recitation mask stared up at him. And kept staring.

Garak picked it up and threw it at the wall.

It only bounced off. The mask was lightweight, but the stone was strong and resilient.

Garak let out an angry sigh- bordering on a growl, really- as he got up off the floor. He picked up a chair leg that had broken off.

The mask gave him no more satisfaction than a clunk.

Garak tried, all night- throwing it, stomping on it, putting it under a table leg and then pushing down with all he had- the mask did not break.

[denimbex1986]

'The moment Jodie Whittaker’s Doctor regenerated will go down history as one of the great rug-pulls of modern Who.

There she was, standing on a rocky outcrop, ready to hand over the mantle to the next in line. But this time there was an extra twist for those watching. Instead of regenerating into Ncuti Gatwa, who was announced as the next Doctor in 2022 after rising to fame in Netflix's Sex Education, people instead saw David Tennant standing in his place, ready to reprise the role he’d last held thirteen years ago.

To quote the Doctor, as he reacted to this change of plans: what?!

With that catchphrase (can a word be a catchphrase? With Tennant, anything is possible), he was back in the TARDIS, and I was immediately reinvested – catapulted back in time to a version of my teenage self where long scarves were sacred and Converse magically looked good when paired with pinstripe suits.

I wasn’t around for original Who, but watched from behind the sofa as my father (a lifelong fan) turned on the telly for the reboot in 2005. Terrifying as the Daleks may be, this show is catnip for kids: the monsters; the prospect of entering a magic box and going for adventures in time and space; and above everything else, the knowledge the Doctor will ultimately save the day.

Heading up the first rebooted series, Christopher Eccleston came and went, with a brooding kind of mystique to him – a bit too dour for my nine-year-old self, but the baddies kept me hooked: the gas-mask zombies, the Slitheen, even (shudder) the return of the Daleks. And just as I was getting properly into the show, along came David Tennant.

For millions of fans like me, Tennant wasn’t just a version of the Doctor: he was the definitive Doctor. Taking the reins from Eccleston after the show’s excellent but troubled first season (Eccleston has talked about how leaving the show put him on a BBC blacklist and almost destroyed his career), he immediately breathed fresh life into the character.

Alongside the showrunner Russell T Davies (who himself has an impressive list of credits to his name, including It's A Sin and Queer as Folk) Tennant helped launch Who into the stratosphere: suddenly, watching the show was (wait for it) cool, something that both kids and adults would tune in for. In its prime, Doctor Who under Tennant pulled in as many as 13m viewers - a world away from Jodie Whittaker's swansong, which only pulled in four.

Davies’ combination of grounded characters – he always took the time to flesh out the companion’s families and make their lives feel meaningful – and tightly plotted episodes was a winning combination. Think The Parting of the Ways, where the Doctor and Rose tearfully bid farewell on a bleak beach in Norway; or the haunting Midnight, which must be among his bleakest.

Of course, a great script is one thing, but selling it is another. As the face of the show, Tennant could switch from cheeky chappie to ultra-serious blaster of baddies in a nanosecond; yes, Eccleston had the gravitas, but Tennant had that, plus sass. And clearly, he loved playing the Doctor: a lifelong fan himself, he once told GWR FM, "Who wouldn't want to be the Doctor? I've even got my own TARDIS!" It’s a fair point.

Needless to say, I lapped it up; even more so when Catherine Tate came on board as the permanently furious Donna. It was a golden era, but alas, all good things must come to an end. When both Davies and Tennant left in 2010, the show struggled. Matt Smith was charismatic and chirpy, yes, but the writing, under Steven Moffat’s tenure, was blander, the plots more slapdash. Where were the classics: the Blinks, the Empty Children?

As the years progressed, I stopped watching entirely – as did many others. Doctor Who was no longer cool; it was once again the domain of nerds and dedicated fans who were invested enough in the show's lore that the fiendishly complicated scripts made sense (or indeed the show's revolving catalogue of rebooted monsters from the original series). For some, the bad patches were worth toughing out. Which is fine, of course; I’m a nerd myself.

Something was missing; a spark, perhaps. Both Jodie Whittaker and Peter Capaldi’s tenures suffered as a result of poor scriptwriting; the plots were shoddy. The Doctor suddenly started sprouting mysterious incarnations. Why were the Weeping Angels suddenly everywhere? I would read the series reviews and roll my eyes at the screen, longing for the good old days.

I was just about ready to hang up my sonic screwdriver for good - at least until I heard that Russell T Davies was coming back as the series’ showrunner once more, along with Tennant and Catherine Tate as his companion Donna. The classic gang, back together again, and returning for one more bite at the apple before passing on the mantle to Gatwa.

Bringing Tennant back was a masterstroke from Davies. If my ears pricked up, so too did the ears of thousands of ex-Whovians, hungry for some sweet nostalgia. And we’ve been amply rewarded: that first sight of Tennant strolling around London in his revamped Tardis made me squeal like a child. As did the first mention of “Allons-y!”, his old catchphrase.

Watching him bounce around the universe with old companion Donna has been a joy; even better, this is a Doctor brought firmly into the modern-day universe. He’s still recognisably himself, but this time around he has crushes on Nathaniel Curtis’ Isaac Newton (“He was so hot... oh! Is that who I am now?”) and lets Donna and her daughter Rose (Yasmin Finney) school him on pronoun usage. You can sense the mischief in Davies’ pen, as well as the clear love he still has for the series, peppering his scripts with Easter eggs galore.

So as the third and final special approaches, I’m not ready to let Tennant go yet. How could I be? We've only just gotten him back, but wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey rolls on, and it's been a joy to see the show looking more invigorated than it has in years.

Job done? With Davies in charge, I'm optimistic that the soft reboot he and Tennant have kick-started will continue in style. Gatwa has big shoes to fill, but one thing's for certain about Doctor Who: it's all about change. Roll on the future... but if Tennant ever decides to make another guest appearance, I'll be there in the blink of a Weeping Angel's eye.'

[bah-circus]

I've been waiting so so good because I want others to have a chance to req and I don't wanna clog your inbox with our silly bot need but I can't wait anymore 😭

These guys are a bit more specific this time around if that's ok! If you can't do them just the general characters work!

👉👈

- Prowl-obsessed Tarantulas

- Angry at the world except that one person™️ Shattered glass Orion pax / D-16 (either one! If you can't do either a SG Optimus also works!)

- Transformers Prime Starscream, heavy on some heartbroken themes. Missing his husband Skyfire time

-🦮

Of course dear audience! We have heard your request and have found a suitable performer for you! We hope this performance suits your needs, but you are free to make any adjustments you wish.

❣︎For Our Next Act, Please Welcome,,,❣︎

Tarantulas!!! Orion Pax!!! Earthspark Starscream!!!

°·⊱ Name: Tarantula, Zygote, Scientist, Pedip, Cobalt, Arania, Stitch, Venny / Venora, Weave

°·⊱ Age: Millions of Years

°·⊱ Race/Species: Cybertronian 

°·⊱ Source: Transformers

°·⊱ Role: Doctor, Extirpator, Emotional Neutralizer, Obsessor

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ Sex: Male

°·⊱ Gender: Madscien, Miiscientistic, Sciencehubris, Sciencegender, Madscific, Alienfreak

°·⊱ Pronouns: It/Its; They/Them; Phe/Phex; 🧪/🧪s; Glit/Glitch; 404/404s

°·⊱ Sexuality: Carnelian 

°·⊱ Personality: This guy has a one-track mind, and there are only two tracks it knows; experiments and Prowl. If they see something or someone phe thinks might fit well for an upcoming experiment very little will be able to get in its way. 

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ Nicknames/Titles: [Prn] Who Experiments on Fragments, The Obsessed Scientist, [Prn] Who Lays Many Traps, The One Lying in Wait, The Patient Hunter

°·⊱ Likes: Prowl, Technical Gadgets, Experiments, Vivisections, Darkness, Climbing, Purple

°·⊱ Dislikes: People Getting in Its Way, Wide Open Spacecs, Losing Control of a Situation, LED Lights, Loud Noises

°·⊱ Emoji Sign-Off: 🤖🧪🕷️🍃💙➖

°·⊱ Faceclaim: 1 | 2

°·⊱ Name: Orion Pax, Nebula, Hadeon, Optronix, Calyx, Xenon, Devoid, Nova Prime

°·⊱ Age: Millions of Years

°·⊱ Race/Species: Cybertronian

°·⊱ Source: Transformers : Shattered Glass 

°·⊱ Role: Anger Holder, Avenger

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ Sex: Male

°·⊱ Gender: Hatebodiment, Viruscoric. Svarthuline Voidgender, 

°·⊱ Pronouns: Voi/Void; It/Its; Xe/Xim; 💢/💢s; Crack/Cracks

°·⊱ Sexuality: Arospike Omnisexual

°·⊱ Personality: Optronix is rather cutthroat, willing to do whatever it takes to achieve the power that voi knows it deserves. When voi is not backstabbing 💢s way to the top, it can be found pulling mean spirited pranks on any of the other Cybertronian headmates. 

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ Nicknames/Titles: [Prn] Who Will Be On Top, The Ruler, Optry, The One Who Rules, [Prn] Who Backstabs

°·⊱ Likes: Libraries, Pranks, Achieving Its Goal, Total Rule, Megatron, True Crime Podcasts

°·⊱ Dislikes: Non-Cybertronian Things, Losing, Video Games, Apologizing, Being Trapped, Pitch Dark

°·⊱ Emoji Sign-Off: 💢🗯️🟪🌌🕳️🚚

°·⊱ Faceclaim: Dyemooch @ Newgrounds | 2

°·⊱ Name: Starscream, Boss, Destiny, Luene, Oculus, Cerulean, Howl

°·⊱ Age: Millions of Years

°·⊱ Race/Species: Cybertronian 

°·⊱ Source: Transformers Earthspark 

°·⊱ Role: Emotional Processor, Trauma Holder / PTSD Holder [May help navigate specific triggers]

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ Sex: Male

°·⊱ Gender: Voidgender, Forgottengender, Agender, transFem (i saw ONE artist who drew fem starscream and it was cute)

°·⊱ Pronouns: It/Its; 💔/💔s; Hurt/Hurts; Lost/Losts; Lone/Lonely; Rot/Rots; Shi/Hir; Hx/Hxm

°·⊱ Sexuality: Achillean

°·⊱ Personality: No longer working for Megatron, Starscream is much more concerned with keeping itself and the ones close to him safe, albeit that list is short. Even after all of this time, Starscream is still rather devious and dangerous as 💔 use to be. Stronger sense of morality than other versions of Starscream. Severe PTSD from Megatron. 

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ Nicknames/Titles: The Screaming Boss, The Runaway General, [Prn] Who Has Lost it All

°·⊱ Likes: Coffee, Hashtag [Family Coded], Terran Sunrises, Peace and Quiet

°·⊱ Dislikes: Explosions, Yelling, Space, Being Restrained, Megatron, War, Being Reminded of its Past

°·⊱ Emoji Sign-Off: 💔💾🌠🌅☕❤️‍🩹

°·⊱ Faceclaim: 1 | 2

AAAAAAA THESE GUYS WERE ABSOLUTELY AMAZING THANK YOU SO SO MUCH TO TRUST US WITH MORE SPECIFIC REQUESTS!! YOUR PACKS ARE ALWAYS A DELIGHT 🦮 ANON!! THANK YOU FOR COMING AGAIN <3 - Pest Swarm ; Alex

[seeyouonsaturn]

Trixie: Ohh you know that’s a fun one. The ultimate meet-cute. Sentinel just straight up bought her. Trixie was a Quintesson prisoner – Primus knows how it wound up with them, honestly someone (who isn’t me) should make a whole series of all the shenanigans Trixie’s been through before eventually ending up on Cybertron. She’s an intergalactic fugitive who escaped from her home planet to avoid persecution, and somehow ended up picked up by the Quintessons, probably after trying to steal from them or stowaway on their ship. They had no use for her, but put her into the illegal pet trade instead of just killing her, because profit. And Sentinel in this verse just really has a thing for organics (give thanks to that one fic I read that rewired my brain structure), and also a god complex (that part is canon), so he bought it. The miners had to work extra hard to come up with all the energon to pay for her too.

Trixie initially is not fond of him at all. The Quintessons haven’t exactly been very nice to her, and now some giant alien robot bought her as a pet? Hell nah. It can already see itself spending the rest of its life in a cage being gawked at. And she escaped prison for that?!

Sentinel meanwhile did not know much about it or its species. He certainly did not expect her to understand him or be capable of speech, but once they get her translator working, he realizes that things just got a lot more interesting. He fully thought he was getting an animal. Instead, he hit the entire jackpot.

So, Sentinel is deeply intrigued. Trixie is dubious, but his seemingly positive reaction to finding out she possesses intelligence gives her some hope. After some talking, it turns out they can definitely make this work. And she is all but delighted when she realizes just how utterly rotten this mech is. Things just got a lot more fun. Yes, she very much can work with that. Perhaps this whole situation is not as bad as she thought.

And so, Trixie is introduced to Iacon as a poor little rescue pet. With her translator turned to one-way, she plays the part – because why would she not? Sentinel has her living in luxury, with servants tending to her every need. So what if she has to eat from a bowl? It’s the fanciest damn bowl she’s ever seen in her life! Keep feeding it those treats, it’ll be such a good little pet <3

Livewire: Livewire was a Civil Guard/Enforcer on Cybertron and long-time best friend of Longarm Prime, until he was revealed as a spy. In the aftermath, Livewire was temporarily sent to Earth “for her own protection” as she may be in danger due to being so close to him – at least that’s the excuse she was given. In truth, it’s really more of an unofficial exile, since having been so close to a traitor made her untrustworthy too. And though the fact that she is no longer trusted was never conveyed to her directly, it was very much implied. She went from being respected and good at her job in a relatively high position, with close friends in higher places, to being cast away to a faraway planet in the boonies with a crew of nobodies (no offense), all because someone she trusted turned out to be a Decepticon and now she’s under surveillance too. The council couldn’t actually pin anything on her to convict her, but they don't want her around anymore, so they did the next best thing and just sent her to Earth where she was out of the way.

So to sum it up, when she first arrives on Earth, she’s spiraling. Not in a good place at all. Although she knows Bumblebee and Bulkhead from way back, it’s Ratchet who initially spends the most time with her, because he’s a doctor and she’s clearly unwell. They even bond somewhat during the first day or two, when she’s vulnerable, before she pushes it all down and her obnoxious personality sets in. When no one’s around and Livewire isn’t faking being fine, she’s most comfortable talking to him. He’s a good listener, and offers good insight and advice. He certainly feels bad for her for what she’s been through, although he doesn’t know the full scope, because she won’t talk about it.

But soon enough comes the moment when she begins realizing things she does not want to be realizing, so she shuts those thoughts down completely and switches to being painfully carefree. While she doesn’t act uncomfortable around anyone, Ratchet remains the only person she actually is comfortable with, but instead of behaving like a normal person, she expresses this by seeking him out constantly to very shamelessly flirt with him, growing more and more vocal and forward about it, seemingly just to get a rise out of him. He is not happy about this, to put it mildly. She does not appear to be bothered by that.

Someone needs to save them both. She does actually like him, but she’s going through it right now and is not in any way capable of correctly dealing with any of her emotions. So instead all he's getting is "I developed a crush on this guy and I'm about to make it everyone else's problem". Rip. More fun than thinking about the corrupt government 👍🏻

@iholli