#normal spaceship doing normal spaceship things

[themuller13]

Woohooo! @derinthescarletpescatarian! Your books arrived in Denmark. However, they didn't provide the neccessary warning signs (must be an oversight).

I'm quite nervous to reread... this normal spaceship on its very normal space trip takes up a lot of time and space and thinking...

[chiropteracupola]

Inconsolable, no consolation, no cancellation / Not turning all keys, he puts the ship through paces / And paces the halls, pacing is madness / Patience is virtuous, patient of these observations — !

[a2zillustration]

Part 1 of 2

(Part 2)

Many many many many many years ago, I created some space pirates for a contest @tanginello was having on dA. Both characters were pretty heavily self-inserts, as you do, but last year I felt the urge to revisit them and finally make them into their own blorbos. I made this two months before I started playing BG3 and I think it's part of what gave me the comics itch.

[alienglowgarden]

Autonomous Bodies for the snippet thing? uvu

sdfsd damn u zari...

ok so that was one of the two non-iwatex wips. Funfact, its also scifi! But very experimental prose, body horror weirdness type stuff.

I did indeed find a place where I could actually try writing something and not just endlessly edit down phrases and push number around. But, its gooey and weird and somewhere towards the end of the story. Adding in the whole section indented for slightly more context.

TW for body horror

X. Once comfortable, It puts  its head in her lap. She is all attention, all rigid and tense and It thinks, this is protection, this is love. Her stiffened limbs like pillars around its too soft body. Finally, safe. It relaxes and drifts off to sleep, willing her to stroke its strands of grey-ash wisps and pure matter. Or perhaps, she comes to this herself, despite herself, in spite of herself, in the name of discovery. Fingers sunk into the velvet softness of its  exposed cranium. Never to return. Never hers again. Her heart beats. Once. Twice. And no more than that. Not for a long time.

 At last, her body drops out of orbit and meets its brand new center of gravity. It is done keeping her on its periphery. But all good things must not come to an end for the Angel has not learned this lesson yet. It wants to keep her. 

It dreams of home where nothing ever ends or begins. Her searching hands come with. 

Porous waves like frills spill from her blooming thigh, as angel-ship-crew roots pass from Its body to hers and start stitching them together. Shinbone to ribs, knee to crook of neck, femur to skull. Both yield with a kind of soft inevitability, welcoming the other in.

In dreams Deronzier’s Angel finds new sights to sublimate them. New ways of loving new things. Fiberglass cords call out to it as if for embrace. It understands now what had distressed the woman. How alien the ship without its melody of perfect working order. 

[liesonthefloordramatically]

Obligatory roundup of tabletop characters I played this year:

Vyv (they/them), a cleric of The Twins in yumgeon (a homebrew Dungeon Meshi-inspired campaign)

Amber (she/her), The Old Soul in a game of Wickedness

Endurance Perez (she/her), a Teamster pilot in Mothership

Not pictured:

Poggs "The Slammer" Mulroney (they/them) in Doing the Job

(Links to icon makers: one, two, and three.)

[catididnt]

Burning Man is less about “eat the rich” and the complete disregard for the natural environment that those attending have embraced while claiming to be so about community. (How can you claim to be community focused when your chosen location degrades the equipment of the people who attend? They’re very self-selecting about who attends without saying they are. Even the cheapest tickets require like $2K once you add in everything.) 

It’s more like the libertarian town that got invaded by bears. I felt for the original locals in that - only there are no locals at Burning Man. Everyone decided to be part of an event to “burn the man” despite how much they now cater to influencers.

“Eat the rich” is the wrong battle cry, but I don’t think we have one that gets more nuanced. You want to go after the people who are using up the resources at an unsustainable pace, that are setting the bar and selling out everyone else for their own enjoyment - How do we sum that up?

Anyway, check out https://www.jetfinder.com/burning-man-festival/ and their recommendations! 

I’m aware most of the 72,000 people there are not “private jet” rich, but pretending Burning Man doesn’t cater to “$500 is a rounding error” rich is silly

Seeing the notes on posts about the Burning Man Debacle™ and for fucks sake I am taking the phrase 'eat the rich' away from y'all until you can CORRECTLY IDENTIFY the rich

Rich is 'arrived by way of their private jet', is 'dropped $500k on a submarine ticket', is '$500 is a rounding error'.

'$500 dollars for a nine day event they must all be rich white people' no you reactionary rotten potato that is actually an entirely reasonable price for an entirely normal person to pay for an annual event! $500 over the course of a year is approximately equivalent to one big takeout a month! Being able to afford that doesn't make you rich it makes you probably not poor! The 'rich or poor' narrative is a false dichotomy that completely excludes the fact that 'richness' or 'poorness' is a SCALE! It's not fucking categorical! You don't one day magically flip a switch and go from 'poor' to 'rich' or vice versa you see incremental changes over time! Wealth distribution is a (these days, admittedly, rather wonky) motherfucking BELL CURVE! . The fact that capitalism is driving more and more people to either extreme of said curve is just evidence of a broken system, but it doesn't change the fact that most people should have a decent amount of disposable income!

The fact that many people don't have said disposable income doesn't magically make the ones that do 'rich' it makes everyone else poor. And the people at fault for the massive and growing percentage of people living below the poverty line are not the ones managing to stay above it, it's the fault of the actually rich, the ones stealing our time and our health and our wages and our future in pursuit of a number on a screen. And the rich are the only people you're helping by hating the people struggling slightly less than you.

When it comes time to 'eat the rich' you're going to be murdering dentists and librarians and scientists while the actually rich point and laugh from a safe distance as you solve their problems for them.

[ostolero]

Mirroring Sheev's Plan by Sullivan

Performed by Austin Walker on AMCA

(originally posted on Cohost)

https://bsky.app/profile/dimosar.bsky.social

https://bsky.app/profile/austinwalker.bsky.social

https://bsky.app/profile/morecivilized.bsky.social

Sheev's Plan:

get elected to senate for naboo

start new sith order

work republic and separatists against each other. recruit evil guy to lead separatists.

(this jedi kid is wicked strong!)

get jedi in deep with clone army. (save some clone jars for later? just in case...)

PIVOT: Make the jedi kid evil. dont need separatist guy anymore. got a new evil guy.

make my evil guy kill his jedi pals when they come to arrest me. ill finish em off with my lightning attack

(fucking guy used his sword to bounce my lightning back at me! honestly my fault. takes a minute for the lightning to wind down and he got my ass on the bounce. fair play. now i look like a leather couch but its fine. can blame jedi for THAT too)

Use the clones to kill the jedi, have my evil guy kill the seperatists, keep the army, spin into empire

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

chill as emperor for a while. humiliate Vader for a laugh. make death star.

Endgame achieved.

(Vader's kid blows up my death star)

PIVOT: get new young apprentice by turning him evil once he kills his dad, or maybe make Vader cooler by making him kill his gay son. either way its a win-win for me.

(thrown down hole and killed.)

PIVOT: good thing i kept those clone jars!! make new clone body to inhabit. takes time to get right. need something to do until then

build enormous fleet of big spaceships, each with their own super death star laser. keep em on the down low... why use em? they lose half the value as soon as you fly them off the lot

(clone son betrays me but its no biggie. its fine. have loads of clones at this point. whats one clone son?)

create a DECOY fascist empire. put one of my weirder clones in charge. Not giving them any of my ships though. can build his own shit. dont look at me. get a bank loan

let failed clone recruit vaders grandson (will explain why later) let those guys take over the galaxy with a different super death star. assume they built this one themselves. very cute!

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

(only via proxy tho. not done yet)

let(??) vaders grandson ("ben"?? ok) usurp failed clone and rule galaxy. wants to “kill the past” but whatever. can still make this work. NEED to keep this kid in the mix (will make sense when we get there)

drop the big news. Im not dead! Fortnite. awesome moment.

lead kylo ren to my base using complex scavenger hunt. puzzle knife.

tell him he’s always actually worked for me. big reveal. big moment. He's my lackey now. a little traitorous and unreliable, but this will pay off later trust me

use death star ships to take over galaxy even more

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

(awesome... but not enough. something missing)

let kylo ren lead clone granddaughter to home base using complex scavenger hunt. Puzzle Knife cool enough idea to do twice i think

taunt granddaughter into killing me so i can possess her un-janked body. All part of my grand scheme...

Endgame achieved. (??)

(kylo ren betrays me)

PIVOT: Possession stupid plan anyway. Instead, use ben and reys Horny Essence to make my nasty old body normal again.

throw ben in hole (grandson purpose revealed)

destroy resistance with lightning powers. shooting spaceships down with magic lightning basically a solved problem at this point.

GALAXY NOW UNDER MY CONTROL

kill the granddaughter actually. dont need her anymore. lightning powers classic for a reason.

ive got this thing in the bag as long as she doesn't bounce the lightning back at me off her fucking laser sword.

Endgame achieved.

[traveler-at-heart]

Average

Summary: Natasha and you make an unlikely pair.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

“Describe yourself in one word”

Boring.

No, not boring. You’ve traveled, even if it was to the places everyone goes to when they’re backpacking through Europe.

You have friends, go out to the movies, you love concerts.

Like everyone else. You are like everyobody else.

Average.

“Y/N?” Holly insists, making you snap out of your thoughts.

Right, this is about her dating profile, not an existencial crisis inducing question for you.

You can focus on that while you take your Thursday bath.

“Curious” you offer.

“Like the monkey”

“Adventurous”

“So a harlot?”

“Oh, my God! Difficult, the word you are looking for is difficult” you sigh, crashing against your desk. Your friend laughs, going back to her phone.

“I’m writing down sexy”

—

The question sticks with you as you go back home.

Average height, average hair color. Regular clothes. 9 to 5 job. You’re smart, but not particularly good at anything.

There’s nothing outstanding about your small, normal family life as well.

And honestly? You like it, but if you were to go out with someone tomorrow, would you even know what to talk about?

It’s one of those days, where you aren’t sure if you’re stuck in your comfort zone or happy and fulfilled with what you have.

While you prepare dinner for one and eat in front of the tv, you can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be out of the ordinary.

—

Careful what you wish for.

Flying aliens across New York are definitely out of the ordinary.

When you wished for an exciting day, you kinda hoped to spot a celebrity, or eat something nice out. Not be a first hand witness of the end of the world.

People are running in every direction, screaming terrified. You’re ready to join the mass hysteria, but something makes you look around the street.

There’s a woman trapped under some metal, struggling to free herself.

Aliens blast around you, and you’re torn.

Run.

And you do, except that against all logic, it’s towards the woman.

“You need to evacuate” she says, waving her hand. “Someone come in, damn it”

Judging by her outfit, and the way she places her fingers over her ear, she must be an agent in the field.

The woman probably knows how to protect herself. Maybe she could easily get out of it. Or it’s her job to die to protect others.

Either way, it’s unacceptable for you to leave her behind.

“Come on” you use a piece of a spaceship for leverage, lifting the heavy object that’s trapping her.

“Careful” when she looks up, she sees one of the aliens throwing something at you. Pushing you out of the way, you both stumble down the destroyed street until a tall man comes to the rescue.

“Took your sweet time” the woman complains.

“Sorry. Who are you?”

“A citizen. Take her to safety”

“Wait” you plead, but he’s already carrying you to the evacuation zone.

“I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Steve Rogers”

Oh, well, getting carried by Captain America definitely doesn’t happen to you every day.

Wish granted.

—

It’s been a week and the city is slowly getting rebuilt. It’s not like they have another choice. New York can’t stop, not even for an alien invasion.

So, life goes back to being the same.

9 to 5, cooking, old movies.

Meeting with friends, who were eager to hear your story about being rescued by Captain America. In a few days, they’d forget.

You seem to have a problem with that, because you can’t forget that beautiful woman and her red hair, striking green eyes looking at you while you helped her.

It’s stupid, really. You don’t even know her name.

But as days go by, you remember more things that seemed to be lost in the moment.

That cute little nose, her full lips.

She’s the most beautiful…

“Excuse me”

It takes you a moment to understand someone’s speaking to you. As you turn around, you find the woman, staring at you with a smile.

“Hi” you say, a little too loudly.

“Hello. Glad to see you made it out safely”

“Yes, well, Captain America made sure of that” you nod, fidgeting with your hands.

Now that there’s no aliens or an imminent threat, her attention is on you and nothing else, which makes you squirm a little.

“Can I… buy you a coffee? To thank you for saving my life”

“No need to thank me” you say, hoping she asks again because you’re eager to spend time with her.

“I insist” she says with a smile.

That’s all it takes for you to agree.

She let’s you choose the place, a small café close to where you live.

You finally learn her name when the barista takes her coffee order.

Natasha.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N” she says when you get your own drink, and she pays for the both of you. “Wanna sit down for a bit?”

Of course, you want to know everything you can about Natasha. So you nod, and let her pick a table for you to sit.

“I’m really grateful”

“It’s what anyone…”

“Most people were running away from danger, not towards it. Especially for a stranger” she says, smiling.

You decide that you really like her smile.

“Well, most of my friends wouldn’t believe me if I told them it happened. I’m a pretty average person”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah” you shrug your shoulders.

“Tell me your favorite song” she asks suddenly and you roll your eyes. “What?”

“That’s such a generic question! I have tons of them, it depends on my mood”

“Favorite song to dance to while cleaning” Natasha asks again and this time you nod, thinking about it.

“The Piña Colada song” you say, trying not to laugh. “You?”

“Uhm… Bad Reputation” she confesses.

“Yeah, you look like a Joan Jett kind of girl”

“Is that good or bad?” Natasha arches her eyebrows, intrigued.

“It means you’re a badass and cool. I think, don’t take my word for it”

“No; I think I will”

You sip your drink, feeling intimidated by her intense stare.

“How did you find me?” you ask, remembering she only knew what you look like.

“It’s kind of my job to find people. What’s yours?”

“Something far less interesting” you deflect the question, but Natasha keeps looking at you. “Data analysis”

“Sounds important”

“It isn’t” you say, smiling. “Not as much as saving the world, at least”

You keep talking for a bit, until Natasha gets a call. That’s fine, you know how to take a hint.

While she’s talking, you go up to the counter and ask for another coffee and a sandwich.

“Are you still hungry? We can get something to eat” Natasha says, concerned. You find it endearing.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks for the coffee”

“I don’t think it’s enough to thank you”

“You really don’t have to”

“Let’s go to the movies another time. Would you like that?” Natasha says, smiling as you bite your lip.

“Yeah, ok”

“I think I should get your number, just in case”

You agree with a smile.

And after the short walk home, you hear your phone ping.

Natasha: Wednesday at 7?

Y/N: See you then :)

—

It’s strange, to develop a friendship with someone whose life is the opposite of yours.

Natasha always asks you things about yourself, things that you think are irrelevant. But maybe she does it because her work is all about secrets, and there’s not much to share on anything else.

“Did you go to prom?” she asks one night as you’re walking back to your apartment.

“Yeah, with my gay best friend. We were each other’s beards”

That makes Natasha laugh, but for some reason she tenses a second later, standing in front of you.

“Hey, Y/N” a man says, and you recognise the voice instantly. Your hand goes around Natasha’s wrist, sliding all the way to hold her hand. You squeeze once to let her know it’s ok, and the man in front of you is not a threat.

“Homer, hi” you greet the man who is usually living in abandoned buildings. “Did you get the clothes I left for you?”

“I did and I shared them with Pop, we’re nice and warm now”

“Alright, I’ll stop by later in the week with some food, ok?”

“Much appreciated. Have a good one, ladies”

He’s pretty harmless, but you understand that Natasha has to be on guard all the time.

“I’m sorry” she says, still holding your hand. “I tend to think the worst of people”

“From everyone? Including me?”

“Never you” she shakes her head. “You’re too kind”

“I’m just an average person” you repeat, the same way you’ve done your whole life.

“You’re wrong” Natasha says.

She doesn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the walk.

—

It’s been a few months since you started hanging out with Natasha. There are times when she’s away for days, or weeks, and you just know she’ll show up after the mission.

You’re always home and you’re always there to welcome her back.

A part of you is still playing dumb, but you know those lingering stares and small touches are becoming a problem. Each time, your heart beats faster, and you find that you spend more and more time wondering what it would be like to kiss her.

There’s gotta be a way to stop these foolish dreams, because Natasha is an agent, a trained spy, and a hero. You are a girl from the midwest, who moved to a big city and still gets lost in the subway from time to time.

Maybe spending less time together could be the solution, but it’s impossible for you to say no to her.

Which is why you’re waiting outside of the theater. You don’t really like ballet, or rather, it’s a little too sophisticated for your simple mind, but Natasha insisted on taking you, and buying you some fancy clothes.

It all sounds very nice, except she’s not here and you’re freezing, refusing to head inside until you see her.

Natasha’s phone is dead too.

After an hour, you convince yourself to head home, and call a cab. It’s too far away to walk with these heels that were also not your idea.

You stop by the café that you and Natasha like, ordering a hot cocoa for you and coffee and a sandwich for another woman who is usually sleeping in the streets.

“Looking like a million dollars” she says, accepting the food with a smile. “Did you have a good time?”

“No, not really. My friend didn’t show” you sigh.

“Is it the girl that follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy?”

You laugh at that. There’s no way the Black Widow acts like a lost puppy around you.

“You mean my friend Natasha? Yeah, she was probably busy with work”

“Her loss” the woman tsks.

“Well, here” you notice the air is cold and the woman’s gloves are basically shreds of fabric. “These will help”

“You’re a doll”

Another hour goes by and just as you’re about to leave and look for Natasha, she rushes to your door, knocking frantically.

“I’m sorry, mission ran long”

Of course you step aside to let her in, because you can never be mad at her for being busy saving the world. But still, you stay silent as you walk to the kitchen, knowing she’ll be right behind you.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you? Of course, you have every right to be. I made you dress up and then stood you up…”

“Nat” you interrupt her, frowning. “I don’t care about that. I’m a big girl, I could have gone inside and enjoyed the show. I just…”

“What? What is it?”

“Well, I was really scared about you” you confess, turning your back to her. “I know enough about your job to understand it’s dangerous, and I just kept fearing the worst. Would it have been so difficult to text me to let me know you were ok?”

You finish your rant with a huff, crossing your arms and turning to look at her.

And Natasha is smiling.

“This isn’t funny”

“No, it’s not. You’re just cute even when you’re angry”

“Not the time to joke”

“Who said I’m joking?” she gets in your way when you try to leave the kitchen, thinking she’s being impossible.

“What are you doing?” you say when she leans forward, placing her hands on your arms.

“Just let me show you” she asks, and then you feel her lips on yours, kissing you slowly. Only when you place your hands on her neck, does she pull you by the waist and deepens the kiss.

“Why…”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I’m in love with you” she confesses when you break apart.

“But I’m just av…”

“Don’t say it” she pulls you against her, your noses inches apart. “The world can be a very bad place sometimes. And you have no idea how hard it is to find someone as kind as you”

“It’s nothing”

“It’s everything” she smiles, kissing you again. “Can I make it up to you for missing our date?”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when she calls it a date. You nod, smiling.

“Same old dinner and movie plan?”

“Sounds perfect to me”

[seat-safety-switch]

They don't tell you anything about how to disassemble the starships. Couple years ago, I was hanging out in my backyard when this thing came out of the sky. Big smash, wreckage everywhere, lots of smelly gross stuff all over my lawn. Government came. Then bigger government. Then the biggest government. Turns out the smelly gross stuff was what was left of the aliens who were piloting it. Sorry if you're eating alien stew right now.

Anyway, they took all the wreckage with them, and left me with a giant hole in my yard. That's where my attorney came in. Let me tell you about my attorney. Have you ever been hyperfocused on something to a degree that people just let you get away with it, because it was easier than trying to fight you? Max is like that with the law. He went after the government for the damage to my fence, and accidentally found out that whatever agency took the wreckage away didn't take out the correct permit to do so. So they had to return the wrecked alien spaceship, and also write me a little letter of apology. That's it over there, on the fridge. They welched on the fence money, though. City hall, what are you gonna do?

Now I had a space ship in my backyard, and I needed to figure out how to take it apart. Normally, this is not a big problem, but I couldn't even identify the kind of screws those little green bastards had used. I went to the library to look for a service manual for the thing, and found a Starship Technical Manual. Perfect, I thought, until I got home and found out it's just full of shit from Star Trek. Didn't even contain any useful information about disassembling the spaceships, and the end of every chapter says "installation is the reverse of assembly." Fuck you, asshole. I just wanted to know what size wrench to use to remove dilithium crystals.

For me, my primary motivation is spite, and I was now feeling quite spiteful indeed about all the bastards who didn't want me to open up this cool-ass space ship. Through a combination of bottle jacks, oxy-acetylene cutters, and one of those little packages of plastic tools that the mall sells to remove the screen on your iPhone, I was in. Unfortunately, all that I had gotten for my hard work was more hammered alien corpse over every available surface. Even their batteries didn't plug into any of my stuff. I stuck that shit right back on eBay. Had to pay for my fence.

[revelboo]

HI REVEL!

New to the fandom and just recently finished TF Prime! I'm an Opti girly to the end but gods Prime Megatron just does things to me 🫠🫠 (Reading fics about him didn't help either lol)

Seeing your cute blokees and everyone's cute figurines and pics made me want to start collecting too and so far it's been so much fun (wallet thinks otherwise) and I've recently got my first transformable figure and surprise! It's Prime Megs 🤭🤭

I saw that you put your blokees in a dollhouse and wanted to suggest this cute spaceship plush/pillow I saw at ikea! The plush can zip open so you can place things on its cockpit and I just know it'll be a perfect fit for several blokees figures (planning to get it on my next visit!)

Thank you for all the writing and work you do! Your fics have been one of the first things I read in the morning and last at night with how perfect and comfy they are 😇😇 (the uno reverse kept me up with how much I cackled at each one tho lol)

That’s so cute and that Megs looks so good. I have the RED version and his hands are awful 🔞

MTMTE Scenario-discussion

• “Any idea what they’re talking about in there?” Rodimus asks, staring at the closed door. And Whirl glares at him from where he’s got his head against the door trying to listen in. ‘Well, if someone would shut up,’ Whirl mutters, pointing right at him with a claw. Not that he’s having any luck eavesdropping. Brainstorm had already tried. So had Chromedome. Twice.

• “Definitely us. I pretended I’d left something in the bar and they all immediately stopped talking at once,” Swerve says, miserably. Because the fact that they’re all out here waiting and worrying would be funny if it was happening to someone that wasn’t him. “Just stared at me until I left.”

• Polishing his lenses, Rung glances at the closed door. “Humans are social. They’re socializing,” he says. Ratchet has said it was healthy and normal. Even if the closed door and no bots rule bothers them all a tiny bit. “They need this.” And Tailgate makes a noise, looking like he’s on the verge of a breakdown just from being banned from his human. Driving home how attached they all are. Even Megatron is waiting, the former warlord leaning against a wall, arms crossed. Pretending indifference even as a ped nervously taps.

• “They’re socializing about us,” Swerve grumbles, pacing and Drift vents tiredly, moving his legs out of the way where he’d seated himself on the floor to wait. ‘You’re paranoid,’ Drift says, removing a whetstone from subspace and drawing a blade to give his hands something to do. ‘They’re not talking about us. Probably reminiscing about their home world,’ he adds. Why would you talk about them? ‘They’re all pretty homesick.’

• “I mean, it’s kind of like thick sprite with a sort of metallic bite? And it glows.” Lifting a hand and waggling it in a sort of gesture, because sprite isn’t quite right, but it’s the closest example you can think of for it. “Tastes a lot better than those stupid nutrition bars.” And the rest of the refugees are just staring at you in a mix of horror and interest. “And don’t freak out if you swallow, but I think it’s okay as long as you don’t swallow too much?” Someone you can’t remember the name of slowly raises their hand. “But yeah, shit’s going to glow until you can wash after.” And someone makes a choking sound, doubling over laughing.

[byfulcrums]

mtmte is the best comic ever and i can prove it to you

There is, of course, the canon mpreg

Grimlock, known Decepticon killer, gets adopted into a group known as The Worst Decepticons Alive, has a baby with them

The bloodthirsty, mentally ill guy that lowkey caused Megatron to go all evil adopts a bunch of red scraplets

Ratchet steals his ex-coworker's hands and keeps them for himself

On the hands: Before that, he would hit his with a hammer because they didn't work properly. Right before a surgery

Man experiences police brutality, decides to take over the universe

Rodimus' nonsensical doodles turn out to be a map leading to heaven

Rodimus also gets crucified

The therapist of the ship, also known as the most forgettable guy ever, is actually God with a capital G

God befriends a guy doing everything in his power to prove the existence of the afterlife

God befriends an atheist

God almost gets sacrificed

Remember the Worst Decepticons Alive? Their dumbest member (who genuinely believes squirrels live in minds) created the cure for lobotomies

There's a random man's corpse sticking out of the engine and also a kinda-vampire

To turn vampires back into regular people you have to hit them real hard in the head

The leader of the DJD runs his group of bloodthirsty killers and torturers like an office workplace

They get scolded by the tiny medic they could squish and are terribly afraid of her

You get to know how the war actually started! It was because of a curly straw

Character goes back in time to stop the war because he's gay and ends up accidentally causing it

Multiple transfem characters!! All of the girls are trans!!!! And most of the boys are gay!!!!

They made STARSCREAM the ruler of the world

There's an entire chapter dedicated to that one time they were chased by a planet

Local Girl's Best Friend Dies, Responds To That By Putting His Brain In Her Eye Socket

They steal a guy's corpse, increase his size with an experimental thingy an amoral scientist created, and use his alt mode as a spaceship when theirs gets stolen

There's an Autobot spy that communicates to them by shooting a crew member

Even the serious panels have meme potential (see: Overlord and Rodimus)

Whirl's general existence makes the world a worst place, which makes the comic even better

"What gives? I'm normal again! Well, relatively speaking."

[Singing] "No one cares! No one cares what you have to say~"

Whirl making a depressed Rodimus so angry that he goes to get by by lighting (I actually can't remember if this is how it went lmao, it might've been the other way around)

When he told everyone about the time he "killed" someone in their sleep and shoved their wand up their ass

Brainstorm creates a button that allows the characters to break the fourth wall. Swerve presses it and becomes a narrator

One of the most painful slow burns EVER. Jesus

Their first actual interaction consisted of Cyclonus dropping Tailgate because he was annoying

Then: "I knew you'd find me"

Violent warlord that has destroyed multiple planets and planned to conquer the universe gets legally mandated into becoming the ship's captain, much to Roddy's despair

At some point, Megatron starts to sound just like Rodimus when talking to Magnus and it makes him want to kill himself

OP gives Roddy and Meg the shared title of "co-captain" so Rodimus wouldn't get upset

Oh, here's a thing: Tumblr is canon in TF IDW

The Scavengers (Worst Decepticons) go to the real world as TF toys and it's never mentioned ever again

Warriors who have endured six million years of war, powerful and feared, freak out when the light goes out

Space Jesus 2 demands an audience with God, gets hit by lightning and disappears

Character survives a terminal illness by dying

Ultra Magnus gets drunk. He's a giggler. He also starts crying

And more!!!!

[cuntyji]

high school au, don’t be weird about the age please…..🙏😝

choso’s heart is so stupid.

dumb and pink and fluttery, like it doesn’t know he’s seventeen and should’ve grown out of this by now.

but then again, you just said “good morning” again, and now his brain’s doing cartwheels.

he doesn’t say anything back. just kind of nods. like an idiot. and then you’re walking away and he’s left staring at the ground like it’s personally betrayed him.

“that was the worst one yet,” he mutters, marching himself into the boys’ bathroom like it’s a war room. “i didn’t even smile. did i smile? i looked constipated. i definitely looked constipated.”

he opens his notebook. not his diary—he tells himself this one’s just notes. 

it is very much a diary.

7:46 AM she said good morning again. this time i think there was a tone? like soft? i’ve decided she probably meant it. maybe i’ll say something back tomorrow. (side note: do not forget to talk about the newly discovered stegosaurus tail vertebra thing if conversation happens. she will think it’s cool. she HAS to think it’s cool.)

and like clockwork, his brain tosses him back into fifth grade like it’s the most humiliating romcom ever filmed.

he was sitting alone at the lunch table, building a sad, half-destroyed lego spaceship with mismatched bricks because he forgot to pack all the parts. then you came over—uninvited. terrifying.

“that’s the x-wing model from the 2014 set, right?” you asked, like it was nothing.

he almost choked on his juice box. 

“how do you know that?”

you shrugged. “i have it. i made a custom one with an ankylosaurus in the cockpit, though. the regular pilot was boring.”

he stared at you for a full five seconds. and in that time, he saw god.

“…dinosaurs and lego?”

“duh,” you said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“also, the stegosaurus is cooler than the t-rex. don’t argue. i have charts.”

he’d been in love ever since. 

and he’s been preparing—training—to have a full conversation with you for seven years. today is supposed to be the day.

“okay. okay, today’s the day,” he tells himself as he stands in front of your locker with a look of absolute terror on his face. you’re coming. you’re coming and he hasn’t thought of a segue yet—he can’t just open with “did you know spinosaurus might’ve been semi-aquatic?” that’s serial killer behavior.

you spot him. smile. and he short-circuits.

“i—I LIKE—” choso blurts. 

“uh. bricks.”

“bricks?” you blink.

“lego bricks. and, um. dinosaurs. because they’re cool. like you. not like you, i mean—well—you’re not extinct. or—”

you’re smiling again. worse. you’re laughing. so much worse. but you don’t walk away, and choso feels his ears go red all the way to the tips.

“okay,” you say, “what kind of dinosaurs?”

he can’t feel his legs. but god, he’s alive.

“…how much time do you have?”

[wiltedwish]

Hey, pssssst— if you are looking for something to listen while washing dishes, I've got a list just for you,

● If you're into dark academia but with more trauma, less studying, mysterious British guys who emotionally malfunction, and horror stories that make you say “mood”. Try The Magnus Archives.

● If you’re into small towns where everything’s a little off (actually, a lot), radio hosts who are way too calm about it, and bizarre, inexplicable occurrences that are totally fine, then you’ve found your new home in Welcome to Night Vale.

Tune in, stay safe (or don’t), and remember:

the sheriff's secret police definitely aren’t listening.

● If you’re into road trips that go way off the beaten path, chasing something you can’t explain, and a haunting mystery that’ll make you question every car that drives by—

then Alice Isn’t Dead is your new obsession.

Buckle up, drive safely, and the people you’re looking for might be looking for you, too.

● Does the phrase “amnesiac eldritch horror with a thesaurus” excite you?

It does? Oh, you little freak.

Then you definitely need to try Malevolent. Also there is whimpering, male whimpering.

● Ever wonder what happens when you trap a bunch of dysfunctional coworkers on a spaceship with limited resources, a suspicious number of near-death experiences, and one emotionally complex AI? You get Wolf 359.

It’s like The Office—but in space, with more trauma bonding and fewer HR rules. Next time you're on a spaceship… check the air supply.

● Are you looking for unsettling horror, a sentient city and unreliable reality? Are you looking for a monotonous narration? Are you looking for I'm in Eskew?

Think.

● Have you ever wondered if your summer camp was just a little... off? Like, dangerously quirky?

Maybe it has a nurse with questionable credentials, several mental disorders, and an unsettling love for worms?

No? You haven't? Weird. Camp Here and There.

● Hello from the Hallowoods. A forest where the trees remember. Where silence isn’t empty—it's waiting.

The world as you knew it ended here. But the story? That’s just beginning.

Listen closely. You might not like what you hear.

● There are things that lurk behind the veil of normal. Objects that don’t follow physics. Creatures that don’t obey God.

They find them. They contain them. They pretend the world is still safe.

You were never meant to know. SCP Foundation.

● If you’ve ever clipped through reality and landed in a buzzing yellow hallway that never ends...

Congratulations. You’re already a traveler.

This guide won’t save you. But it might tell you what not to look at.

The Traveler’s Guide to the Backrooms. Mind the damp. And the screaming.

● Now, if you’re like me and sometimes can’t handle complex storylines, freeze up every time a new character shows up, or feel too lazy to open the wiki just to remember who that guy from episode 3 was? I get it.

Try Tales from the Breakroom, Unexplained Encounters or anything from Eriecast Network.

Enjoy the horrors and forget when the episode ends.

● Do you know Japan holds events where people gather to exchange scary stories? Cool, right.

God, I wish my country did too, since it doesn't I guess I have to listen to Kaiden: Japanese Scary stories.

● Do you like magic, dragons, daring quests… and unexpected romantic tension?

The Two Princes is a fantasy audio drama where two rival princes set out to save their kingdoms—and accidentally fall in love along the way. It’s got sword fights, sass, heartfelt moments, and enough gay yearning to power a castle.

If you’ve ever wanted a fairy tale that’s charming, funny, and unapologetically queer—this is it. Adventure awaits. So does Prince Amir. (And he’s very handsome.)

● Love and Luck podcast is a sweet, queer love story told through voicemails—with a touch of magic. Set in Melbourne, it’s about building love, community, and kindness. Short episodes, big heart, no tragic endings. Just good vibes and quiet enchantment.

● Maybe you are not looking for fiction but real things, true crimes, perhaps that send chills down your spine thinking how can humans be like this? as cherry on top?

Look no further for you are looking for Crimehub: A true crime podcast.

● What if vampires were less “terrifying monster” and more “dramatic queer disaster”?

All Vampires Are Gay is a bold, funny, and emotional audio drama that reclaims vampire lore with sharp fangs and sharper wit.

[sightseertrespasser]

Odds of Survival apart 7

Welcome aboard the Lost Light! Where nothing stressful ever happens.

Working back into longer chapters. Credit to @keferon for creating the AU. Enjoy!

———————————————————————

Spaceship spaceship spaceship that is a mother fucking spaceship.

Somewhere within the poor rattled jelly of his brain, eight year old Jazz was screaming and jumping and slapping his adult self’s shoulder to start doing the happy dance.

Instead, he reached out a hand to clasp Prowls shoulder. “Hoooly shit!”

Music.

He needed music. The Superman theme? No. Interstellar? Nah, something more energetic. Star Wars? Closer. Jurassic Park? Yes.

As Jazz began playing the introductory notes to the Jurassic Park theme, he had the presence of mind to take a screen capture to show Hot Rod later. Jazz was mech-crazy but Roddy was all about spaceships and this was something straight out of a comic book brought to life.

The Lost Light, as best Jazz could translate, was a thing of beauty. Mango sherbet sunlight spilling over the horizon painted the ships white exterior peach and cream. It had these spine? Thingy’s? Rising from the back. Jazz had no idea what for but they looked awesome. Massive thrusters slowed its decent onto the moons surface, kicking up enough glittery dust to make everything around it sparkle like a goddamn anime filter.

Bluestreak was saying something in his native language again. Clearly shocked and ranting at his brother.

“Blue, if you’re gonna talk about someone in the room, it’s polite to do it in a language they understand. Ya know? ‘Specially so they don’t make any assumptions when they hear Prowl, Jazz, and Frag in that order.” He inclined his head towards the mecha in question but didn’t look away from the ship.

“I am so sorry!” Jazz gave it fifty-fifty he was also talking to Prowl.

“It was just! You grabbed Prowl and trust me no one actually gets away with that if he does not want to be touched by someone. Which is almost everyone. I mean, even {Smokey} and I can only get away with it on a good day. Or if I blackmail him about the time he blew me up. Even then we’ve known each other for vorns and he met you like a cycle ago?! And I’m also kinda loosing my mind right now because you are SO weird and oh Primus I didn’t mean to call you that, you’re a really cool mech I just think you’ve got a really messed up home life and that just sounds like another insult doesn’t it? Did I tell you I talk a lot when I’m nervous because I talk a lot normally so you’d think I’m nervous all the time but really I’m not nervous all the time it’s just that when I actually get nervous I really really start talking a lot and are you flirting with Prowl because I think you’re flirting with Prowl even though he said you weren’t but I think he’s just in denial since he keeps letting you do stuff like touching him without warning.”

“BLUESTREAK.” Prowl ground out a shout through clenched teeth.

The sniper snapped a hand over his mouth. Eyes wide and wings pinned low. In stark contrast to Prowl, who had his own wings flared high and wide. Both brothers were wide eyed in utter mortification.

“Go.” He paused, lightly removing Jazz’s hand. “Go to the ship. That is an order.”

Bluestreak skedaddled, keeping one hand firmly over his mouth and giving a firm thumbs up with the other.

Jazz knew there was no way that would actually stop him from talking, but he really appreciated it when a pilot could commit to the bit. He snort chuckled.

“I apologize greatly on behalf of my brother. He meant no offense. And please disregard anything he might have..” Prowl looked like he wanted to cough discreetly. “Implied.”

They walked together towards the airlock outside. Waiting for Bluestreak to exit before they could go next.

“Do you mean when he implied I have a slaggy home life or the bit about you liking me?”

He watched Prowls face twitch a bit. He was standing military inspection straight, hands tightly clasped behind his back and pointedly not looking at Jazz.

“Cause I wasn’t flirting on purpose.” Prowl did not break eye contact with the wall, but Jazz caught his wings dip imperceptibly.

“When I grabbed your shoulder.” Jazz hummed.

Ope. Made ya look.

Prowl glanced back to the wall, before apparently deciding there wasn’t much point in ignoring Jazz. Smart man.

He turned more fully back to Jazz, face focused but a hint more open then before.

“Slaggy isn’t really a- that’s not how the grammar is used for-“ Prowl rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Jazz, do like how you are treated where you are from?”

Oh, well shit. He silenced the movie soundtrack, thinking. Felt the horns pin back.

“When you joined your group, how much did it hurt?”

Prowl didn’t immediately respond. Considering his question for a long breath.

When he finally spoke, it was quieter than before. “Pain is relative, and I believe certain aspects of the process are idiotic and pointless, but to try and answer your question; it hurt less than what it was worth.”

Jazz watched the lights cycle on the door as it re-pressurized.

“Same.”

They stood together before the way out.

“Though, from the looks of it, you guys are in much better shape than us. I kinda thought we were the best of the best. But I’m starting to think there’s a lot they weren’t telling us.”

The airlock hissed open, and the two stepped inside.

“You can stay. If you choose.” Prowl shuffled back into a parade rest, hiding behind formality. “You do not have to go back to those people.”

Jazz smiled deep within his mech, and lightly bumped his unwitting guide to the galaxy. “Prowler! Really now, flirting at a time like this? How unprofessional.”

Goddamn it was mean, but holy hell it was just too much fun to fluster a man like Prowl.

“You are completely insufferable.” Points to Bluestreak, when Jazz asked him for a bunch of keywords Prowl would probably use, unprofessional and insufferable were some of the first he taught him.

“I am trying to help you. I have been trying to help you this entire time and you have constantly managed to find entirely new ways of making my head hurt.” Prowl had finally dropped the act and was waving his arms emphatically.

“M’kay.” Jazz nodded along. “Would you like my number?”

Prowl made a face like he was mentally blue-screening again. “I… Yes. Yes that would actually be very helpful.”

“I’m happy to help!” And Jazz rattled off his personal phone number for the burner cell he wasn’t necessarily supposed to have.

“Thank you?” Prowl said with an entirely new flavor of confusion. “Jazz what is-“ Prowl was cut off by the airlock’s depressurization.

He could not wait to get that man to a rec room. His mecha was built shorter than Jazz’s, but he had this weird total confidence that Prowl was somehow taller than him.

Jazz stepped out onto the moons surface, letting the last notes to the Jurassic Park theme finally play out, stopping briefly to once again admire the insanity of the situation. He liked to focus on the good when it was front and center, because he had a pretty clear idea of how bad the bad could be.

A dull stone of dread settled in his stomach.

Disconnecting was gonna suck. Pretty sure he didn’t have a full blown concussion at least. Hard to tell with the drift link suppressing most of the “oh fuck ow stop that” signals his body was almost certainly sending him. He felt basically fine though, so he could get away with pushing it back just a little further.

Probably.

The medics here didn’t know his rep either, so even on an unfamiliar base, Jazz gave it two minutes max before he’d be in their walls.

Prowl appeared in his peripheral vision and motioned for Jazz to follow.

The closer they got to the Lost Light, the more the feelings of Awe transitioned into Vertigo. This thing was fucking massive up close. Upon reaching the outer airlock door, Jazz found he couldn’t touch the molding at the top. Maybe if he climbed onto Prowls shoulders though?

Before he could poke that particular bear, the door opened and Jazz was ushered in. As soon as the atmosphere returned, Prowl was on his case.

“Jazz it is of the utmost importance that you behave yourself. I will handle your introduction to my immediate superior. Please refrain from any overly familiar behavior.” Prowl wasn’t doing the no eye contact-parade rest pose but actually looking at him properly.

“Don’t embarrass you in front of your boss, I got you boo.” He clapped Prowl on the shoulder for emphasis and watched his wing things do a little dance.

Oh those things definitely got hard wired into his neural net by accident didn’t they? Wonder how he deals with the phantom limb syndrome.

Jazz himself walked like a, quote “new born deer that just took a shot of fireball” per Rico, every time he disconnected from his mecha after too long.

“Please refrain from touching me until further notice.” Prowl tacked on as the doors slid open.

—————

Something was off.

It started in the hallway but the sensation didn’t fade. Like when you get home and vaguely smelled something had gone bad, but it was so faint you could barely remember it was there. So you search the fridge, the trash, yadda yadda yadda because you know it’s there. Even if you’ve gotten used to the smell and can only imagine what’s wrong based off of a poorly informed memory of the thing.

The interior of the ship looked off. But in a way he just couldn’t put his finger on.

Jazz was vaguely aware he’d been getting a little loopier ever since him and Prowl went tumbling down Crash Mountain.

Truth be told, he’s been off his game ever since Prowl found him.

Shit, how long had he been piloting actually?

Let’s see.

He woke up this morning on the mecha program space station, got to piloting, ran maybe a couple hours of tests? Then space tore itself a new one, Jazz tore that alien a new one, got teleported, scared the fuck out of Tentacle Monster Mission Control, got teleported again for much longer, passed out, woke up, spent the better part of a day traveling with Prowl and oh fuck me I haven’t eaten or drunk anything in at least 14 hours.

Now that he was thinking about it, the dull ache in his skull felt more like dehydration than blunt force trauma.

Wait. No. Concentrate.

Something about this place was off. It wasn’t just in his head. He just needed to focus for more than - woah that’s a lot of mecha.

Mechanical forms hurried along massive hallways. Vehicles abounded as well and Jazz had to make and effort not to trip on any. Prowl had gotten a hold of his arm at some point and was half supporting half guiding Jazz through the hall.

“You said no touching.” Jazz crooned in a singsong voice.

“You’re going to fall on someone.” Prowl was making a face that had every passing mecha pointedly not make eye contact.

“Am not.” And Jazz went a little limp just to fuck with him.

Prowl left little space for Jazz to wander or wonder. He’d catch a glimpse of a rooms interior or another fantastic mecha only to be pulled along before his gaze could linger.

Jesus this place was huge. And detailed. Lots of GNDN lookin’ pipes, wires and greebles across every surface. After what felt like walking through every spaceship movie set at once, Prowl pulled him into a room with red cross markings on the doors.

Inside, the room hosted a number of high tech (pillowed?) tables and a truly ridiculous number of tools. Half of them looked suited for body shop work, welders and wrenches and the like. While the other half resembled supersized computer repair kits.

Why is everything huge? They don’t. They don’t seriously have the pilots handle the repairs while in their mecha do they?

Sure Prowl did some basic repair stuff earlier, but that was mid battle support. It made sense.

Speak of the distracting devil, Prowl was addressing somebody while Jazz was ogling a 30ft tall filing cabinet.

Two mecha were at the other end of the room.

One was teal and standing, tapping away at a super-sized tablet. They had a face -something is off- that turned to them warmly, taking in their battered mecha.

The other one was neon alien blood green. Sat on a table, they were wiping their face off with a cloth, revealing a hot pink paint job. Their other hand rested on a severed and charred alien head missing most of the fleshy bits. They tossed the cloth in a bin and locked onto Jazz with a face that promised fucking death.

Hot Pink said something formal and clipped in Prowls native language. Standing from the table and casually swinging the skull in one hand.

“Elita One,” Prowl dipped his head and wings. “This is Jazz. He has significant experience in batting quintesson forces. I have seen his capabilities firsthand and they are highly impressive. Currently, he is in need of medical treatment.”

The bloody one, Elita One, stalked up to Jazz. Raking over him with a critical eye. The pilot got a tingly sense of deja vu, like he got pushed back in time to when he first applied to the mecha program.

The lights hummed at a B flat pitch.

Onslaught, one of the first pilots and one of the few to live to retirement stood like a demon guarding the gates to Hell.

Jazz straightened up, squaring his shoulders.

“Sir, Striker one zero six one, {Pacific} Rim Defense, Callsign: Jazz, sir.”

Elita paused in her circling, however briefly, before returning to face him and Prowl once more.

“At ease.” She considered Jazz for only a moment longer, something like curiosity flickering before turning to Prowl, “Officer, I expect a full report from you on the bridge. Jazz is to not go anywhere on this ship without accompaniment. And I expect you to justify this situation to Red Alert.”

If Jazz hadn’t specifically been watching for it, anyone else would have missed the ever so slight way Prowl cringed at the order.

“Yes Captain. I volunteer to keep watch of Jazz and assume responsibility until a shift change can be approved.” D’awww. The machine has a heart.

“Request granted. Now, you have until I finish cleaning this skull to take care of any personal matters.” Elita hefted the thing for emphasis.

She locked onto Jazz once more, “Velocity will see to your injuries. You will comply with whatever treatment she deems appropriate. If you cause harm to her or any other member of my crew, I will rip off what’s left of your arm and beat you to death with it. Otherwise, remain here until Prowl comes to collect you. Is all that understood?”

I’m sorry can you repeat that middle bit? You said it so casually and in the same tone as everything else that I kinda blanked for a sec.

Instead, Jazz said, “Yes sir.”

Velocity stepped up, -their medic is a pilot- “If you’ll follow me, I can get you situated on the medical {berth} over here.”

Velocity paused as she was about to leave, like she’d just heard something. She turned and nodded to Prowl who returned the gesture, releasing Jazz in the process.

Velocity clasped her hands together and spoke to Jazz.

“I understand you might have a, ah, unique medical history. Would you be able to discuss any of that with me so I can better treat your injuries?”

Jazz hesitated.

Something is off.

“A moment in private, if you both would allow.” Prowl looked between the two other mecha. Elita was pretty much out the door and Velocity graciously left to gather the needed supplies. Prowl came closer to speak quietly.

“Jazz. You said some concerning things before regarding your previous experiences with medical treatment. Can you handle allowing Velocity to treat you?” He was doing the serious face again, one hand resting on Jazz’s working shoulder.

“Yeah. I mean, worst case scenario and I start freaking out you’ve got my permission to use force.” Prowls eyes got very wide at that.

“Which I won’t! I won’t!” He held up a hand placatingly. “I’m…not great with doctors, but it’s less the medical stuff itself and more..” Jazz made a so-so gesture.

“Feeling trapped?” He felt his horns pin down again.

Before he left the program, Ratchet had a whole system worked out. He did as much light treatment as he could with Jazz in public places like the cafeteria or in his apartment. Usually bringing in someone trusted like Rico around to distract and talk to him while Ratchet worked.

For full on surgery though, there wasn’t a lot of alternatives to turn to. White lights, white walls, dark shadows. The actual operating theater was the only option.

Ratchet, to his credit, never used restraints, which was usually enough to avoid triggering an episode if he worked fast. As far as drugs went, Jazz had a twilight stage between Fully Conscious and Out Cold called Fuck Where’d He Go that no one enjoyed playing.

He sighed.

“Look, I’m not hurt that bad. Just..” Jazz rubbed the back of his mechas head out of habit, “Give me a dim room and something cold for my head and I’ll be fine after I get something to drink.”

Prowl furrowed his brow, “Jazz, one of your arms is non functional. I implore you to let us help. You are concerned with feeling trapped, yes? If the door out of the room is left open, would that alleviate some of your fears?”

His visor twitched towards Prowl. Jazz stood very, very still.

Focus. Something is off. Focus.

“Yeah. I… I don’t want to be strapped down either. Or put to sleep.” Jazz focused on Prowl’s face. His mecha that had a face. The face that Prowl could chose not to use but is. Prowl looked like he was actively having to school his expression.

“No restraints. No sedatives. I will comm Velocity your requests and you may reiterate them at any time.” He let go of Jazz, who stepped back slightly.

Jazz watched him from within his mecha, only showing what he wanted to show. Prowl was watching him just as closely, but couldn’t hide that he was. Why can’t he hide it?

Something is off.

“Got it Prowler. See you soon!” Jazz left him with a cheery wave.

He needed to get his head on straight. It was starting to feel like he was high or something with the way everyone was talking about his mecha. There was the language barrier sure, but it didn’t account for whatever visual weirdness that was tickling his sense of uncanny valley.

With the specter of possible legitimate brain damage haunting his steps, Jazz walked towards where Velocity had gone, knocking on the doorway to get her attention. “Ready to go when you are doc.”

Velocity, who Jazz caught peeking around the corner during his little heart to heart with Prowl, at least had the gumption to not even pretend she wasn’t eavesdropping. He could at least appreciate when a doctor was honest about their bad habits.

“Right this way. I’ll be leaving just the interior door open for the sake of privacy if that’s alright. Prowl also noted you did not have a negative reaction to localized {anesthetic}.” She gestured to the chrome duct tape still on his shoulder.

Velocity led them back into the room with all the tables and the huge central computer terminal. “Lay down here, and I’ll get started. I’ll talk you through every step of what I’ll be doing.”

Jazz walked up to the table, and stared.

And stared.

“Uh.” He circled around the mecha cradle table thing. “How do I get down?”

Horizontal style cradles were a thing in like, New Zealand? But for the life of him Jazz couldn’t see where he was supposed to go.

Velocity raised an eyebrow. Speaking slowly she gestured to the table, “You sit in the middle, and then turn 90 degrees to set your upper and lower body on the berth. Laying down.”

Jazz looked between her and the “berth”, his brain skirting the very edge of the sink drain.

“Right, but after that is there a ladder or something? Do stairs pop out? Or are you actually going to lift me out of here?” Jazz squatted down, inspecting for some kind or catch or compartment or..

Or..

Something was off because there weren’t any.

Jazz felt every hair stand up on his body.

His brain fell down the drain.

He stood.

Carefully.

Nothing on this ship has been built to human proportions. Nothing.

“Jazz? Are you alright?”

The human turned to the giant robot.

“Hmm? I’m fine.” He hopped onto the berth with ease, looking relaxed. “Still learning Common. Just a little confused was all.”

Velocity blinked, “Oh well that’s understandable. It’s designed for communicating with organic alien life forms so the terminology can be a little strange sometimes.”

“Hah. Right.” Jazz stared at the ceiling.

Every drop of his blood was cold.

“Aliens.”

———————————————————————

It is truly a Jazz fic if he isn’t lying for his life and bouncing off the walls like a squirrel in a plastic bucket?

Next time, Prowl has a completely relaxing chapter all about petting Green. Yep.

Definitely.

- SSTP

<- First Next ->

[taddymason]

Thinking about Jay’s role in the team, and I know I’ve mentioned before that Jay’s main themes are family, and that if given the choice between his close circle of loved ones and the greater good he’ll choose the former, but also another thing that sets him apart from everyone else is the reason why he’s a ninja. With characters like Zane and Cole it’s mentioned multiple times that their purpose is to take care of others, those who can’t protect themselves. Nya and Kai also have this duty/responsibility theme that makes a lot of sense considering the circumstances they both grew up in, and that they both have in common that they want to prove themselves at first and then focus on the role that “they’re supposed to” play (aka; Kai accepting that his role isn’t to be the green ninja and that his duty is to protect Lloyd, and Nya accepting to stop being the samurai X which was her way of proving herself even without being a ninja and in the end becoming the water ninja). Lloyd has a mix of all of this because he's constantly the chosen one in every situation since he was 10, and it's all he knows as a way of life, but back to the topic:

Jay has nothing to do with this.

And I'm not saying that Jay doesn't care about helping people, or anything like that. It's just that it's very interesting that he's the furthest away from having this motivation to be a ninja. Even Wu, in one of the books, confirms that Jay in the pilots saw the opportunity to be a ninja as an excuse to have exciting adventures after a rather humble life in which Jay was going from one hobby to another.

And while the other roles in the team always come back to the theme of protecting others and all that, the reason why Jay is chosen instead is because he's a dreamer. In the flashback and the Ninja of Lightning book Wu explains that the reason he chose Jay was precisely because he had this ability to think outside the box and motivate others with his sense of humor. In almost every first season there is an instance where Jay quickly adapts to a situation just by seeing the other side of things that others don't see, and having this amount of skills: He's the one who discovers how to do spinjitzu, who finds the temple of light, who adapts first to space/digiverse, who does best in the Ninja Roll episode, etc. It's not that Jay is the smartest or strongest, but give him anything and the guy, in some unconventional way, will try to take advantage of it and build a spaceship out of literal scrap metal.

There aren't really many examples of this in the later seasons, BUT, it's worth noting that Wu also chose him because Jay knows how to motivate others with his sense of humor. And what does he do in S12 when he's separated from the others and trapped in a video game? He makes a resistence to oppose Unagami and inspire people who were also trapped in that game.

With all that being said, I just wanted to point out how distinct Jay's role on the team is and his motivation for being a ninja in the first place. It's not like he has this heroic duty, or necessarily wants to do justice, he's just a guy with a normal life who wanted to have exciting adventures and tap into this creativity of his and do some good in the process if it ended up working out. Which is sad with how things are right now but whatever…

[starleska]

Here to talk about the little cricket (?) dude you've been talking about, Lux I think his name is? Anyway I haven't seen such a accurate rubber hose character since cuphead and little fella is really cute! (Since he's from Dr Who I assume he's malignant in some way? Idk I don't really plan on watching it, I just wanted to comment.) Anyways, he's super charming and expressive, I like having him all over my dash :]

hahaha YESSSS gosh i am so happy that folks are so excited about Mr. Ring-A-Ding | Lux Imperator, even if they aren't fans of the show!! i'm biased as a long-time Whovian, but the episode Lux really is the best one we've had in ages, so i'd recommend it wholeheartedly 😉 let me give you a little bit of lore re: our new toony cricket fellow!! massive spoilers for the episode Lux and an ongoing plot in Doctor Who, so only read if you're interested 🥰 i hope this'll be useful for any newcomers who are interested in starting Doctor Who as well!!

HUGE LORE DUMP BELOW:

so!!! the basic premise of Doctor Who is: the Doctor is an alien called a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey. he travels the universe through time and space in his 'spaceship', the TARDIS (stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space), and his almost always looks like a battered-up police box. he often travels with 'companions': usually human (though sometimes alien!) sidekicks who help him solve space/historical-related mysteries. when the Doctor dies, he can 'regenerate': his body changes, saving him from death and giving him an entirely new appearance. currently, we are on the Fifteenth Doctor, played by the brilliant Ncuti Gatwa 🥰

now back in 2023, we received three episodes for the show's 60th anniversary, and things changed hugely. as the Doctor regenerated into his Fourteenth version, he somehow came back with a familiar face: that of David Tennant's Tenth Doctor (perhaps one of the best-known iterations of the Doctor). this is because of the return of a character who hadn't been seen since the 60s: the Toymaker, a godlike entity who rules over games 👀

The Toymaker's introduction started a shift for the show, which was almost always strict sci-fi, into a more fantastical, rule-bending realm. the Toymaker turned out to be a member of The Pantheon of Discord: a collective of gods whose powers are beyond the laws of physics and nature. normally, The Doctor faces off against sci-fi monsters and antagonists, but the Pantheon are far more powerful, and not bound to typical rules (though they do have their own). there are a few members we know are in the Pantheon (The Toymaker, his child Maestro, the God of Death Sutekh) and some we speculate are in the Pantheon (the fourth-wall breaking Mrs. Flood), but the episode Lux finally confirmed our newest Pantheon member: Mr. Ring-A-Ding, AKA Lux Imperator, the God of Light 😱 in-universe, Mr. Ring-A-Ding is a character from a 1930s-era cartoon inspired by Fleischer Studios, Disney's then-competitor (and the inspiration for games like Cuphead!). however, Lux Imperator possessed and brought to life Mr. Ring-A-Ding's form by travelling on moonlight into a movie theatre set in 1950s Miami, where he climbed out of the screen and sealed the movie-watchers into celluloid film. when the Doctor and his current companion, Belinda Chandra, end up at the theatre, Mr. Ring-A-Ding (as he is calling himself) shows up as a smaller, physical manifestation of a living cartoon, and pretends to be innocent...but he quickly reveals his true form as Lux Imperator 🙈💖

after some completely crazy fourth-wall-breaking shenanigans wherein Mr. Ring-A-Ding | Lux animates the Doctor and Belinda, trapping them inside of celluloid film, he reveals his new desire: to use the Doctor's regeneration energy and build himself a body. this is because Lux craves light, but has always been trapped in the dark. having seen it on a film in the movie theatre, Lux wants to use the power of the atom bomb to unleash the most devastating light of all. it's pretty insane 😂

and the end of the episode is...the Doctor exposes Lux to sunlight, which causes him to grow infinitely large and...dissipate, into space? along with light itself? we have no idea. it's utterly mad, but SUCH a great watch!!! so to answer your question: yes, he definitely was malignant at first, but he kind of gets one of the nicest endings i've seen for a Doctor Who baddie in a while? he's just chilling up there in space now, twinkling along with the stars. that's wonderful 🙈💖 tldr; Mr. Ring-a-Ding is both the name of a 1930s Fleischer-esque cartoon-character in-universe, and the name adopted by Lux Imperator, the God of Light. if you're confused, don't worry: that's all part of the Doctor Who experience 😂💖