#doc rubby

[sillyromance]

Hello! I don’t know if you know this character well enough, but I’ll try my best. Can you please make some kind of scenario with G1 Sunstreaker?

Good day, dear anonymous!

I'm very sorry that completing this has taken so much time... But, finally, I've come up with an idea for the writing. Perhaps, it has turned out too fluffy...

Nevertheless, hope you enjoy!

Not alone.

- Y/n!

You turned – your eyes locked on the lemon-yellow frame of Sunstreaker. Your big autobot friend had just returned from the mission: his crimson brother was somewhere nearby too since you could hear his loud crispy voice; he was buzzing annoyingly like a big bug in a child's fist. Definitely, boasting again… If there was a battle, those two inevitably found themselves right in the middle of it – and none of the twins was shy to show off, talking about their victories and crazy adventures. Though, that time it seemed like one of the young heroes decided to spend some time with a little human instead…

- Hi, pal! How’s it goin’? – You tried to make your voice sound in the most optimistic way possible, though a careful listener would easily recognise you pretended.

- We’ve fried some ‘cons, obviously! You should have seen how their armor got covered with that appetizing crisp! – He went down on his knee, his blue optics looking attentively in your eyes. – A usual day, really… But I see there’s somethin’ wrong. Mind to tell me?

- It's nothing. Well... I don’t know. It’s not that important. – Your gaze avoided his, your hands going back and forth, rubbing your hips and leaving long white stripes on the jeans.

There were many other bots around. Optimus, Ironhide, First Aid… Of course, they were very compassionate and understanding - but you didn’t want to talk about your problems while it was so crowded. As for Sunny, you felt grateful for being cared about, especially if it was someone who usually cared about himself more than about anyone else… Still, such stuff were not for everyone to know…

There were many things going wrong in your life lately. It would be hard to count them all… However, it didn’t mean you would let yourself act like a baby and cry on a random shoulder – no matter fleshy or steely. The bots and people working with them had a lot of things to do. Decepticons never lost a chance to cause even a tiny trouble – though, honestly, usually it was a complete disaster. It was a war… There was no time for being weak. The world wouldn’t save itself.

Sunstreaker titled his helm on a side and smiled softly.

- I thought of a ride around the base… I wondered if you'd like to join me, huh? I doubt you will reject such a cool guy like me.

- Sure not, Sunny. – You couldn’t help but smirked teasingly at his charming behaviour. - Though, I’m afraid to burn down like those ‘cons. It’s getting kinda hot around here, haven't you noticed?

He laughed lightheartedly, you accompanied him. Then he turned into his vehicle mode. Getting in the car, you heard Wheeljack calling for you two:

- Hey, guys! Where are you going?

- Oh, doc! It's just a little ride!

- Don’t you remember, Streaker – you and Sideswipe are helping me in the lab this evenin’!

- Don’t worry, doc! You know, you can count on us!

- Yeah… I don't think so after the previous time I…

- Whatever, bye!

Before the inventor could say anything else, the Lamborghini drove off the place at full speed, heading to the exit.

Evening air was refreshing; it carried soothing scents of warm sand and wild flowers. Rubby-gold clouds swam in the peach sky; tired ochre sun was slightly touching the edge of the horizon. The bot was silent. It was a little bit surprising, though you was grateful. You didn’t want to chat at that moment.

Looking at the rocky, orange landscape, you sighed with satisfaction. That was exactly that you needed. Noisy and humid atmosphere of the base tired you up; Sunstreaker saw this perfectly at the very minute he spotted you on that corner. He knew you well enough. You two didn’t waste much time on long preludes at the first meeting and got along just fine. The more you hanged out together, the closer you became. So, you quickly reached the point when friends start reading each other’s minds.

He was enjoying your presence, your body lying conveniently on his cushy seats and your hands touching the steering wheel. Though you weren't a cybotronian, you were one of the most important souls in the world for him – after his beloved brother, of course. And your low spirit concerned him much. He really wanted to speak to you there and then, however, he saw it wasn’t a good moment. Well, you would be at your secret place soon anyways – there he would ask…

After one-two kilometers he slowed down and pulled over to the side road which soon made its way upwards a sloping hill. There were much more plants than before; slim and dry trunks of acacias surrounded you, throwing long lavender shades at the car and the passenger inside. Endless blue sea of the heavens was broken into pieces of rainbow glass with thin, blooming brunches. The bot stopped; you hopped out and ran forward to a long pink cliff looming behind the trees. Sunstreaker followed, already on his feet too.

The cliff was a good spot for relaxation. It was calm, quiet, peaceful; a colorful blooming plain and a small bunch of the trees created a beautiful, almost wild landscape. Everywhere you could see was a domain of prairie. Though, downwards, there was a small town in a valley; the streetlights always switched on pretty early, they looked like fireflies sitting on the ancient eastern carpet. At that moment they were shining too – tiny stars floating in the violet air. Tough stone was drowning in plants; yellow grass tickled your bare ankles. The grove on the left rustled softly in the coming twilights; wide waves were walking over the fields.

- So… Now, we are alone. – The bot began, looking at the transparent, smoky moon starting its way above the world. – Maybe, now could you tell me?

You shrugged your shoulders, then looked at your boots – a tiny ant was running around your foot helplessly. You took a long stalk and helped the insect down on the ground.

- I don’t know. It’s… a lot.

The bot chuckled.

- I’m all audio sensors.

- Since when have you become so thoughtful, buddy?

- Since I’ve known you!

- Really? Ok, ok…

You were talking till the sun sat and the sky got covered in its cute glittering freckles. The wind rose; it was already chilly, almost cold. Thin summer shirt wasn’t able to protect you from the cooling night weather. You rubbed your forearms, trying to regain warmth; Sunstreaker glanced at your shivering figure, worried.

- Are you cold, little one? – He asked.

- Yeah… A bit. I think, it would be better for us to return.

- Agreed… - He responded, transforming…

At base everyone had been sleeping when you came. Trying not to wake the comrades up (especially, Wheeljack), you sneaked inside and turned into one of the corridors, heading to your quarters.

- Are you sure you’ll be all right on your own? – Your friend kneeled and let you climb on his large flat palm. His optics were gleaming softly in the darkness.

- Are there any other options? – You smiled.

- Well… - His voice became shaky. – I could… take you with me…

- It would be uncomfortable for both of us, don’t you think?

He thought for a minute or two, then turned to you, expression of his faceplate showing a mix of hope and... embarrassment?!

- Actually, I have an idea… But I don’t know if you…

- Just say it out loud, boy.

He took a deep “breath”, stabilizing his systems.

- I could… I could put you in my fuel tank. So, you would be safe while sleeping and… not alone as well.

You heart skipped a beat.

- Wait, wait, wait… But transformers’ fueltanks work in the same way human stomachs do, don’t they?

- Still, we can’t process organic materials, remember?

He had a point. You exhaled.

- Right… Nevertheless, it sounds so crazy…

- I understand. So... It’s your choice.

You rubbed your chin, considering the offer. On one hand, you were about to be swallowed(!) alive by a metal titan and spend a whole night inside him without any guaranties that something wouldn’t go wrong. But at the same time, he was your best friend; you could trust him. After all, that all was just a matter of trust.

You met his gaze once again - the bot waited for your decision, though you could see the flames of impatience jumping in his optics.

- I… I don’t mind. I know you won’t hurt me.

You could tell he was happy to hear that; tension released the bot’s figure, he grinned joyfully like a big cat.

- Wow! Thank you, Y/N! I swear it's gonna be the best experience possible for you!

- Fine, big guy! Let’s get it over with…

He opened the door of the room he and his brother were sharing. Sideswipe was snoring peacefully on his berth; he didn’t notice neither of you and didn’t hear how Sunstreaker closed the door and lied on his own bed.

- Shhhh… - He whispered as he saw you trying to say something. – He won’t bother us. Sides won’t open his optics even if the skies crack on two.

You giggled. But the bot’s faceplate suddenly went sober.

- Are you still sure?

You nodded confidently.

- Perfect… If anything scares you, just call for me - I'll stop and let you out. Don’t be shy, Ok?

- Ok.

- Good… Now, please, hold still…

His grip tightened a little as you were lifted to his opening mouth. Your feet were laid on something wet and warm – it wrapped around them, coating you in heavy, slick slime. Tingles ran down your spine as you realized it was his glossa tasting you, and the slime was the drool coaxing your limbs, preparing you for… for the way down. Sunstreaker’s throat produced a silent moan of pleasure – it seemed he liked your flavor! Huh… You couldn’t help but blushed, thinking about you being such a tasty tiny candy.

Meanwhile, the bot very gently pushed you further, to the pharynx. Your hands finally met with the pulsing, smooth tongue which leaned to them eagerly, then slipped behind you back. The servo loosened up; now you were in the bot’s mouth entirely, being held by his long, plushie glossa. Misty, hot air filled your lungs; it was too dark to see, but you could feel your toes wriggling in the open space – the awaiting entrance of the esophagus. Streams of oily saliva vanished in that black hole with loud, delicious sounds of gulps. At first, they frightened you; instinctively, you grabbed the flesh of your improvised bed and made an attempt to crawl away from the danger. However, the very minute you did that, the swallows faded. Sunstreacker froze still, granting you a chance to stop – undoubtedly, it would disappoint him, but he didn’t want to startle his human friend. You took a big breath and forced yourself to calm down. There was nothing that would mean harm to you. The mech wouldn’t hurt you - he loved you! You went through so many things together – undeniably, he was reckless sometimes, but he wouldn’t do anything that would lead to death of those he valued the most.

Hesitantly, you patted the glossa – it licked your cheek playfully, comforting, then bend over, letting you slide back to the throat. Powerful metal muscles contracted around your ankles and tugged you in the comforting embrace of the esophagus.

Trembling, the bot outlined a small round bulge on his neck with his digit as you were fully pulled inside his throat. He swallowed hard, yet carefully, sending your warm, fragile body further down his huge tough body. The mech could still sense you wriggle, moving deeper and deeper inside beneath his chest plates. Some more slow seconds – and you arrived at your destination, being dropped into whining chamber of the alien “stomach”, making a nice little bulge on Sunstreaker’s abdomen.

His servo leisurely traced your path and stayed on the lump, massaging it slightly. Inside, it was gurgly and wet, but cozily warm and soft. You felt your friend’s indecisive caresses and pressed your hand against a thick grey wall permeated with long thin energon cables from the bottom to the top.

- How are you, Y/N? Is it OK?

- Yes, Sunny, it is. Don’t worry so much! You did great, by the way…

- Oh… That’s good to hear, I guess… You too.

- Thanks…

It was awkward to have a conversation in that position, so neither of you said a word anymore. You rested against the plump bumps of the fueltank rubbing at you lovingly; soothing quiet sparkbeat and dim light coming from the walls as well as gentle growling sounds and warmth made its work – your eyelids soon grew heavy, you yawned and snuggled into the squishy metal.

- Sweet dreams, Sunny.

The bot curled up around you, hugging his growling, full middle.

- Same for you, dear.

[corallorosso]

Matteo Salvini, quello che si è autoproclamato “capitano”, il leader dell’opposizione più grottesca che la storia repubblicana abbia mai conosciuto, ci fa sapere che lui, a Natale, non rispetterà la legge. Però dice che lo farà "In maniera rispettosa delle regole del distanziamento, con la mascherina”. Il che è singolare, perché dice che non rispetterà una regola, ma lo farà “in maniera rispettosa delle regole”. In pratica, secondo Salvini, le “regole” sono quelle che decide lui, le altre non valgono. E aggiunge: “Non potete congelare il cuore degli italiani”, che è una frase che, da sola, in un mondo giusto ti dovrebbe valere una deportazione in Siberia. Anche perché, in fondo, che cosa gli cambierebbe se dovesse arrivargli una multa da 400€? Ha più di 49 milioni di ragioni per sbattersene allegramente. Il problema, semmai, potrebbe venirsi a creare per tutti gli scemi che decidessero di seguire il suo esempio, come chiede lui stesso: “Coordiniamoci. Mettiamoci d’accordo in tutte le città”, perché magari 400€ di multa (e forse pure una bella infezione da Covid) non sono esattamente alla portata di tutti. Ma tanto a lui che gli frega? Lui deve fare propaganda. Il capitano, a Natale, ha deciso di andare a fare volontariato, di andare a mangiare assieme ai senzatetto, a quanto pare. Allora ho pensato: beh, in effetti magari è una sua usanza. Magari lui dedica ogni Natale ai poveri, agli ultimi (rigorosamente italiani doc, ovviamente), da novello bravo devoto del Sacro Cuore e da ex adoratore delle ampolle del Dio Po. Così ho fatto una breve ricerchina per capire se effettivamente Salvini, a Natale, si è sempre dedicato alla beneficenza e ai clochard. E niente. Non ho trovato tracce di nulla del genere. In compenso, lo scorso Natale ci allietava con un balletto assieme a un orso di peluche, su Tiktok, cantando Jingle Bells. Più passa il tempo e più mi convinco che ogni voto per questo figuro dovrebbe essere conteggiato come materiale per una futura causa penale per “circonvenzione di incapace”. Sul serio. Emiliano Rubbi

[unfilodaria]

Come tutti sapete di sicuro, la notizia è che “un marocchino ha aggredito un uomo col crocifisso al collo, a Roma, perché lo riteneva insultante per la propria religione”. A seguito di questa notizia, Salvini ha annunciato: “Scrivo a tutti i prefetti e questori per aumentare controlli e attenzione in luoghi di aggregazione di cittadini islamici, per prevenire ogni tipo di violenza contro cittadini innocenti”, sancendo così definitivamente l’esistenza di due distinte categorie di cittadini: i “cittadini islamici” e quelli “innocenti”. Ma vediamo un po’ cosa ha riportato la questura circa l’accaduto. Innanzitutto, i due cittadini erano entrambi senzatetto. Quindi la notizia diventa: “Un senzatetto marocchino ha aggredito un altro senzatetto col crocifisso al collo, a Roma, perché lo riteneva insultante per la propria religione”. Ma, forse, il fatto che fossero entrambi senza fissa dimora non dava abbastanza l’idea del “musulmano che aggredisce il bravo cittadino italiano” per colpa di una croce al collo. Poi, va detto che anche l’altro uomo era straniero, per la precisone georgiano. E allora sarebbe: “Un senzatetto marocchino aggradisce un senzatetto georgiano col crocifisso al collo, perché lo riteneva insultante per la propria religione”. Ma, come sapete di sicuro, la nazionalità di qualcuno si specifica SOLO per l’aggressore, mai per l’aggredito, e SOLO se si tratta di uno straniero (e ovviamente se ne specifica anche la religione, ma SOLO se musulmano). Poi, leggendo il verbale della questura, scopriamo che la lite tra i due uomini sarebbe iniziata all’interno di un autobus e poi sarebbe continuata fuori, quando il marocchino avrebbe colpito il georgiano con una coltellata, “perché voleva rubargli la catenina”. A questo punto la storia diventerebbe: “Un senzatetto marocchino aggradisce un senzatetto georgiano, dopo una lite, per rubargli la catenina che aveva al collo”. Che è giusto un po’ diverso da quello che è stato preso a pretesto da Salvini per invocare “controlli sui cittadini islamici”. Messa così, sarebbe stata una notizia di cui non si sarebbe occupato nessuno, trattandosi, di fatto, di una lite tra due senzatetto stranieri. Da dove nasce, allora, la “notizia”? Da una storia che avrebbe riferito, in un secondo momento, il georgiano al pronto soccorso (non alla polizia). Ma tanto è bastato, in assenza di crimini “musulmani doc”, per dare modo allo sciacallo dell’interno di seguitare la sua propaganda d’odio. “Trasformare qualunque aneddoto, per piccolo che sia, in minaccia grave”. È il quarto punto degli undici “Principi della propaganda” di Goebbels, il ministro della Propaganda nazista. E Salvini li ha studiati benissimo, quegli 11 punti. Ma noi seguitiamo pure a far finta di niente, ad illuderci che sia “tutto normale”. La pensavano così anche durante la Repubblica di Weimar.

Emiliano Rubbi

[geniecharlie]

#WithTheBigBosses The awarding of the Rubby Sy-Coyiuto Honorary Awardee to Dr. Kay Rebosa (Medical Director). With the big bosses of Flawless, Ms. Rubby Coyiuto (CEO) and Ms. Tanya Quibilan (COO). Such an honor to share the stage with them (as I was the one who introduced Doc Kay being Chair of Awarding Committee). :D #Honor