#this one got so long...

[dramamelon]

Closest of Friends

Day 6: new rituals Rating: M (overall) Chararcters: Drift, Ratchet, Rodimus, Thunderclash Tags: Minimal Editing, Fluff and Humor, Old Married Couple, Polyamory, Old Loves Rekindled, Drunken Shenanigans, Making Out, Light Petting Fic Summary: Drift and Ratchet are living their soft and cozy lives together way out in the quiet serenity of rural lands that sit on the edge of the wild. They're good with this, couldn't ask for more. Then more comes anyway by way of the past, as it always does.

Note: Just a heads up! This week is focused on Dratchet emotionally, but it is working toward a polycule! (Which will be explored in April during Polyship Week.)

Written for Dratchet Party March 2023! 🥳 AO3 link in reblog!

"Show me how it's done?" Drift repeated, then barked with laughter that nearly unseated him from Rodimus' lap. "Yeah, you do that, Party Ambulance." He patted the back of Ratchet's neck, leaning in close to smirk in his face. "Don't forget how much I taught you... sweetspark."

He sputtered and moved back as Ratchet took a page out of his playbook, shoving a hand in Drift's face. "Outta the way, catboy," Ratchet said, chuckling as he leaned deeper between Drift and Rodimus. "I've got an old beau to slobber all over."

Drift dragged Ratchet's hand out of the way just in time to watch as his conjunx pressed his lips to those of Thunderclash. From the soft intake of air—the dumbstruck acknowledgment from Rodimus that he, too, found the sight entirely welcome to continue—Drift allowed himself to observe with the fullest and most prurient attention he could give the spectacle.

As awe-inspiring as it had been to watch Ratchet take such firm control of Rodimus' mouth, Drift found himself suddenly and utterly speechless at the sight he now witnessed. His spark pulsed hard, his fans clicked to ever higher speeds to combat the heat being thrown by his revving engine, and his array…. Well, if he shifted just right, the intimate slosh of the pooling fluid captured within would be embarrassingly apparent to all four of them. And the pings to bare it all played like a cacophony of riotous sound and shape across his HUD. With all the engex in his system, it took a couple tries to swipe them away for the nuisance they were.

Refocusing on the show he was being gifted, Drift dragged a fingertip along his own lower lip for want of more turned his own way. He wasn't quite sure how to describe it, but there was something in the way Ratchet and Thunderclash kissed that seemed to dig much deeper than anything best friends with benefits could rightly explain. That managed to bank the heat of his ardor enough that he could think beyond the priming glow of petting and engex. At his hips, Rodimus' grip softened and stroked along his armor with a gentle tingle in his field that went a long way toward providing the answer. Drift's spark twisted with the long subsumed hurt suddenly catapulted from the dark recesses he'd stuffed it into. He knew what he watched because he felt it, too.

Tugging Rodimus' hands from his plating, Drift curled his fingers into those belonging to his best friend. He didn't attempt to say anything—Rodimus didn't know enough hand to make it worth the effort under the influence of so much drink, anyway. Drawing in a deep breath of cooling night air, Drift set a memo to remind him they all really needed to talk when they were sober. That was for later, though.

A hand waved in front of him as someone—Ratchet—asked, "You back with us?"

Drift blinked and lifted his gaze that had somehow wandered away to where his hands were joined with Rodimus' again. A flush washed over his cheeks as he took in the quietly amused look on Ratchet's face. With a curled finger under Drift's chin, Ratchet tilted his helm back the tiniest bit. The flutter of a medical scan tingled through him for a moment before he swatted Ratchet's hand away and declared, "I'm fine, Ratty." Then he smirked and added, "You done kissing your boyfriend yet?"

That earned him a grunt of good humor from his conjunx. Ratchet bumped noses with him and pressed the tiniest caress to the corner of his mouth. "If we're going to call him that, then I've only just gotten started. Unless you want to take your turn?"

Rodimus snickered from where he sat back against the bench, ruffling his fingers through Drift's but not pulling them away. "We sound like a bunch of slagging sparklings, deciding amongst ourselves who's kissing who in what order."

"This is very true," Thunderclash said with a nod, slicking the fullness of his bottom lip with his glossa. "So far it seems a little lopsided, though. My count says Ratchet's up to three kisses while I've only gotten one. Since everyone reads as pretty willing to continue to me, who wants to help even it out?" He lifted his hands, stroking one along the shape of Rodimus' helm and reaching out with the other to slide his fingertips along the line of Drift's spinal stack. Rodimus purred, turning into the touch. Drift, however, shivered and found his back bowing as Thunderclash's hand settled in the small of his back. Thunderclash gave him a questioning look, the scarlet optics still blazing hot, but softening at whatever he saw. "Drift, you are willing, aren't you?"

Scoffing, Drift flicked his audial flares with an indignity better showcased on wings and gave Thunderclash the hardest of reprimanding looks his drunken self could manage. "Of course I'm willing! Did you see the way I—"

"Yeah, I did see," Thunderclash interrupted, more of that heat in him rumbling deep in his chest with a rev of his big engine. It calmed a bit, though, when he continued. "With Rod and Ratch, not me. You and I are the ones that don't have a past here, Drift. Not in comparison. Are you really secure enough with Ratch to let me in?"

Like the point of one of his swords, those words pierced the fog of drink and lust that filled Drift's mind. It was only a momentary clarity, though, he knew considering how much extra charge pulsed through his system. He gazed on Thunderclash with speculative optics, freeing his hands and bringing them up to cradle the handsome face that had captured Rodimus and even, at one point, Ratchet. Perhaps even still. The large hand remained on his back, warm and comforting—much like the familiar touches Rodimus and Ratchet continued to offer. With deference to his drink-hampered ability to consider things as quickly as he might otherwise, Drift took his time to simply observe Thunderclash's shifting expression while he gathered his thoughts.

"Drift?"

Extending one fingertip, Drift pressed it against Thunderclash's lips to stop any further words from him. "Shhh," he shushed the big mech. He let the talon hidden in that finger loose again, trailing random swoops and swirls across Thunderclash's cheek. Curls of golden paint followed the movement, but Thunderclash showed no fear even as that talon traveled right beneath his optic. Drift smiled and huffed soft laughter, giving a small shake of his helm. "There was a time when I wouldn't have even had to have known your name," he said as a fresh flood of warmth traveled through his frame. Drift leaned closer, lifting himself from Rodimus' lap. He crawled atop Thunderclash, the big mech's hands shifting to take the place of Rodimus' around his middle, and continued, "The badge might've counted against you, though."

Ratchet's hand landed gently on his shoulder and his lips pressed an encouraging kiss to the back of his neck. Not to be outdone, Rodimus dropped kisses along the sensitive edge of his shoulder kibble, his hands roaming to intimate places on both Drift and Thunderclash. (Judging from the murmurs let loose by Ratchet, Rodimus probably found a way to include him, as well.)

"And what about now?" Thunderclash asked, making no move to rush him. The shift of his optics to meet Ratchet's gaze over Drift's shoulder did not go unnoticed. As a matter of fact, Drift found the reassurance seeking rather endearing.

"Now?" he repeated, making one last little swirling scrape near the outer corner of Thunderclash's optic. "Now, I'm a whole lot pickier about who I share myself with—," he watched as understanding disappointment started to filter into Thunderclash's gaze and hurried to add, "—but you come with very good recommendations from the two people I hold in highest regard."

The way that perked Thunderclash right up, the happy flush it sent across his face, had Drift biting back another laugh. "So…? Does that mean—?"

"Fucking Primus, Drift," Rodimus whined from beside them. "Get to the kissing already!"

That made Drift laugh. He retracted the talon he'd been drawing on Thunderclash with and gave the scrapes a smoothing brush of his fingertip. "And how about you, Ratty? What do you think I should do, being my conjunx and all?"

Ratchet shifted to press against his back, the rumble of his engine sending the sweetest vibrations through Drift's chassis. His strong arms wrapped around Drift's chest, his fingertips curling into the seams of Drift's armor. "The same damn thing I said before," Ratchet said in his gruffest tone into the curve of Drift's neck. "Kisses for everyone. So my suggestion is that you stop talking and—how did you put it? Oh, yeah, I remember. Start sucking face with my best friend."

The suddenly hopeful, cyberpuppy look on Thunderclash's face was utterly charming and Drift would be lying to say he was unaffected. He let his hands slip down the length of Thunderclash's neck to curl his fingers along the edges of his prominent chest plate. "Well, I guess that settles it."

"Yeah," Thunderclash agreed with the small nod, glossa licking over his parted lips again. "Guess it does."

"It does," Ratchet grouched, giving them both a swat with one hand. "Get to it already. We'll all be sober again before it happens at this rate."

"Can't have that," Drift said with a snort and rolling his optics. He offered Thunderclash a smile that was obviously happily returned. The bubble of overcharge splashed over him again, the brief spell of drunken and hesitant clarity gone with the explicit permission now given several times over. It was awkward, a true first-time including unintentional nose bumping, clacking of dentae, and laughter as they attempted to find the best way they fit together. The best part of kissing Ratchet's best friend, however, was the pleased hum from Ratchet himself, both aloud and throughout his field.

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

[daeyumi]

I am what you made me 🩸

[emberglowfox]

birds of a feather

[incredubious]

MODERN AU ACESAN !!!! first impressions with a guy who barely passes the No Shoes No Shirt No Service rule

[chloesimaginationthings]

The FNAF Mikes talk about their extended family..

[raynewolferune]

DC x DP Prompt: Bruce is bad at emoting but at least ghosts are empathic (too bad bat kids are not)

Was reading Twincognito on AO3 when I stumbled across this gem again:

~

" “Danny, Tim. I was just…checking in. Is everything alright?” Curse his inability to make meaningful conversation when it wasn’t a life or death situation.

They glanced at each other and shrugged.

Then Danny hauled himself out of the bed and walked over to Bruce.

Bruce tried not to let too much excitement show on his face. "

~

Now I really want to read a story where Bruce adopts Danny post Meta trafficking and is being his usual emotionally constipated self. His kids keep getting mad at him because he's treating their new meta brother who was trafficked poorly (generally being stilted in conversation with him, walking away hurriedly mid-conversation, avoiding Danny when he's feeling really awkward, etc). They think Bruce is discriminating against Danny for being a civilian, meta, dealer's pick, but really it's just Bruce being horribly socially awkward. Danny knows this because of ghost empathy and find the whole thing hilarious. The whole thing comes to a head with the Bat Kids staging an intervention in the Bat Cave.

[egophiliac]

crossing my fingers and wishing upon every star that chapter 10 finally brings us the tweel cards 🤞🤞

[skyartworkzzz]

Like The Other Ones

HI YES IM FINALLY DONE HOLY SHIT

OKAY SO this was based off on my own gameplay of COTL, I noticed that everytime Id put food orders in, Narinder would usually be the one to prepare them And honestly? We love a malewife in this house so I dig that for him, ma guy is a skilled cook <3

As I wrote down the dialogue, it just got deeper than I expected SO HERE YALL GO WITH A FULL ASS COMIC ABOUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP, ENJOY!!!!

This shit took me weeks Ill go recharge my soul now brb-

EDIT: I DECIDED TO PUT A UNDERCUT Tab so yall dont have to scroll too much in order to read and see other posts ure welcome 🤼‍♀️ <3

[possamble]

Needlessly close reading and long commentary on chapter 57 and how the audience actually has an extremely limited view on what Marcille has been like over the course of her life.

I am once again thinking about how pre-dungeon Marcille is so quiet and stoic that she seems like a completely different person. How jarring chapter 57 is for the audience. Like you have Marcille, who has been just the most blindingly expressive person with resting baby face

And then the chapter drops a title page of Marcille hearing from Falin for the first time in four years and it's like.

Who is that. Genuinely. Would you even realize that's Marcille without the context clues?

And then the chapter just keeps coming in with the sucker punches.

We have SEEN Marcille meet strangers. It was never with this understated of a smile.

literally who the hell is this. the few times the audience gets to see some Signature Marcille Faces that they're used to is when she finally gets to see Falin again

when she's testing out her new spells

(and when Laios and Falin are fantasizing about her being their damsel in distress, funnily enough)

And then finally. Finally you get to a fully recognizable Marcille when she fucking DIES and comes back to life to geek out about necromancy.

We know she loves magic. We know she loves Falin. So it's not so surprising that she wouldn't be able to keep a mask up when thinking or talking about the things she loves. But why the mask in the first place? Where does it come from? It's tempting to think that, maybe, Falin's departure just hurt her so much that it turned her into a quiet person.

But that's only half true. If you go back, the first instance you see of this incredibly mild personality is actually introduced much earlier, in chapter 17.

What if she was always like that. What if her default after her father died was to hold people at arm's length, to never really emote past being polite and friendly. What if Falin was the first person who was able to bring her out of her shell, and when she left, Marcille just went back to how she was.

And when comparing her detached demeanour with someone else...

It's not exact, but wouldn't you say there's a resemblance? Wouldn't you think she might be trying her best to imitate what she saw of her own mother working as an accomplished mage?

It would certainly explain why she's hiding behind her portrait in her nightmare, at least.

We aren't told that Marcille has been distancing herself from everyone around her using a mature and dignified personality she modelled off her mother. But we sure as hell are shown it, I think.

[hinamie]

alongside someone like you

[cowardlykrow]

Stop light shenanigans

Extra:

[bloominglegumes]

i love normal guys doomed by the narrative

[octoling-wearing-gauges]

will the real lars fans please stand up

[smokin-salmon]

HAPPY (very, very late) BIRTHDAY MIRABELLE!!

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF movie Mike meets Jeremy Fitzgerald