Well, The Fanon On Sensitive Medics' Hands Must Have A Bit More Potential Than Just Foreplaying With

Well, the fanon on sensitive medics' hands must have a bit more potential than just foreplaying with them.

Pharma must have at least considered the possibility of calibrating his sensors and training the whole neuronet in a way that will give him the ability to use his fingers as a complete spike substitute. So he could cum not only from the excitement of touching Ratchet, but also by fingering him and feeling the stimulation. Rubbing on Ratchet's nodes must give the right feedback to get his mind foggy. And how this valve must spasm, making the digits inside stiffen in familiar but shockingly new pleasure.

Oh, and Ratchet would absolutely HAVE to acknowledge Pharma's genius. This new horizon of medicine, to which the better doctor is gallantly leading his beloved colleague.

Shame that Ratchet's never shown any sign of interest. And without him even breakthroughs such as this feel worthless.

Oh, I see posts where I shit on Megatron's character arcs (and I'm not to deny that shitting on them doesn't make them any less interesting to analyze, seriously) finding their way to people. But I must admit, it's not always this bad.  TF:P Megatron's redemption arc: tasteless, but tolerable

Sure shit, everything is considerably less annoying if it's not shoved in your face. The whole ending of this series was rushed due to production issues, and the subplot leading to Megatron's finale just falls into this line. But if you put a not-so-brilliant plot twist at the very end of your story, it may become easy to ignore. I know that a lot of people hated the "Game of Thrones" ending so much they ended up successfully ignoring it. And it's not the ending that we seek in stories, yeah? "The Lord of the Rings" ended with magic and your beloved fantasy creatures leaving the world for humans to dominate. But who the hell loves tales ending and our mundane world beginning?

In short, I just waved Megatron's "redemption" off and genuinely forgot about it. 

And when I try to analyze it, it amuses me in the first place. TFP Megs is just a fucking junkie, hooked on Dark Energon. He spends a decent amount of his screentime either high or craving a shot. And if it doesn't make your expectations of him pretty low, just look at the whole take on his character. Dark Evil Overlord le classique, even his Sauron-ish, armor-like, edgy-spiky desing suggests how they wanted him to be easily read as just evil. Not a lost revolutionary, but a villainy villain.

And then this villain gets himself possessed by Unicron, a.k.a. robotic Satan (who created Earth, lol). Because he did drugs. Don't do drugs, kids, dope lets the devil into your body. The way they wrapped this Christian take on HLS into a robot abusing a magical cosmic substance is just really fun to me. And the possession feels so bad that even the mighty overlord questions his life choices and runs away crying.

The whole thing really drags your attention away from the team Prime's motivation to just let him go. Look, their whole planet is a junkyard, do they even have resources to keep Megs as a prisoner? To hold a trial? 

Shit, at this point I can't even agree that it was a redemption. Megs just took that, didn't like that, went all humbled by his unpleasant religious experience, and bailed pathetically. But maybe being pathetic is not so bad for him, hm?

Some thoughts on prostitution in TF

I'm torn between two options. For one thing, Cybertronian culture lacking prostitution as widespread and common as we have it today, while Cybertronians themselves are sexual beings, is an interesting concept. Ya know, a bit of otherness for yer alien robots having bars, booze, propaganda films, and other modern human shit.

I do like "selling oneself" to mean selling one's parts, or technical files containing schematics and know-how information about peculiar features, or the source code so it can be replicated. Or, like Deadlock in MTMTE, just renting your body out so losers can drive a race car or fly a jet for a day or two.

But fuck it, if Cybertronians had something resembling a courtesan or hetaira culture in human historical societies, I wouldn't be opposed. Them being a social class associated with exquisite entertainment, arts, and intelligence, being educated and cultured. 

There's no room for this during the war, but man, without sexual orientation being a concept or homophobia killing the game, there's absolutely no problem finding a casual fuck, just look at your desperate buddy or colleague.

Bulky TFP Shockwave is insanely hot, yet I'm still trying to figure out how exactly we should explore his deadly otherworldy allure. There's something that captivates me the most. Oh boy, his damn HAND. Let's do some in-universe Shockwave hand fetish.

Maybe it's Starscream's nervous alertness going worse near his rival, maybe it's his millennia-long sensual (and sexual) deprivation, maybe a secret third option (Soundwave applying some sort of Wi-Fi Zersetzung mental control technology to destabilize him and make him more obedient by slowly uploading lewd thought-viruses into his operating system).

Whatever, it's just Shockwave's damn hand. An unpaired mechanism, elegant and graceful. Its exquisite shape would fit Knock Out better. It's a palm of a medic, or a dancer, or a sculptor, or a massagist. 

Oh, Starscream very well remembers this palm mercilessly grabbing his helm, almost shoving his head onto the giant metal thorn. Honestly, in reality, he would prefer not to stay in the same room with any of Shockwave's limbs, whether it be his cannon or this inappropriate hand. In the realms of his mind, though…

He's staring, again. Shockwave's dexterous digits are waltzing over the console, each movement precise, swift, smooth, and hypnotic at the same time. Starescream's wings give a very interested twitch. These fingers could as well be examining his moving parts, let's say, to check if everything is in order. Knock Out's competence sometimes seems questionable. They could be studying methodically Starscream's rivets, and gears, and circuits. The best Decepticon flyer must tick perfectly.

And maybe he could open his spark chamber, so… No, it absolutely has nothing to do with the real Shockwave. Starscream would rather join the Autobots before letting him anywhere near his insides. But receiving a little manual exam from these skillful digits sounds like what the best Decepticon flyer and, remember, second-in-command deserves. At least to make sure he didn't mess it all up while dosing himself with the Dark Energon.

At this point, Starscream is shivering slightly, his knees frail, his vents shallow and quick. His gaze never leaving Shockwave's digits, now plugging some device into the console, connecting the wires. They could be on his cockpit, tracing the seams with their sharp talons on the way to their target between Starscream's legs. Just where his most delicate machinery was all heated up, preparing him for the interface, his slender spike ready to be enveloped by these strong fingers. Oh, Starscream will craft any absurd explanation for Shockwave to continue his ministrations. Like, seekers can die from arousal if they're not jerked off or finger-fucked to completion. He'll lubricate in Shockwave's grip like a good bot. It'll appear absolutely logical to make him squirt.

He has to forcefully abort his spike's attempts to free itself from under his codpiece armor. It's hot inside his housing, maybe even leaking. That also applies to his valve, cycling behind his closed panel. Shockwave's pointy fingertips will prickle them carefully, spreading his soft, sensitive flaps, opening him up before the unblinking red optic. They'd point at his nodes, pressing them like they're typing a passcode. They would intrude, like Shockwave breaks into people's bodies and brains with his instruments and his cold, mismechanical mind. They would be his sweetest torture, until Starscream actually screams, jetting fluids helplessly, his legs shaking.

And, oh, in reality, his legs are shaking. Shockwave is still facing his console and multiple screens, paying zero attention to what's happening behind his back. And there is Starscream, seized by the sudden spasming tension, stretched out and muting himself with his own hands over his throat and mouth, and dripping on the floor between his heels. Wings fluttering. Clearly overloading.

With a sharp hiss and click, his treacherous spike is also out to shoot its thin but impudent release. Leaving him no excuse in case Shockwave turns around. Strascream's spark, a nanosecond ago flaring with charge, goes ice-cold along with his drooped wings. He's damned. Betrayed by his processor and all his systems. Doing this… this without a single touch, just fantasizing about Shockwave fingering him. Now any cortical psychic patch session will be the end of the great commander Starscream. 

He needs to get out of here. Now.

"Starscream?" Shockwave's plain, mechanical voice creeps under his plating instantly, as always cold and passionless. But Shockwave's finials jiggle, bearably visibly, as in interest. "Is everything alright?"

Soundwave and his mind games be damned.

Good guy Megatron strikes again. Evil alien octopi need slaves. 

Maybe it's time to play a different card and give the fandom good guys Quintessons. Friendly tentacle monsters came in peace, and their only intention was to help the stagnating progress on Cybertron and assist the native population to ascend to a higher state of existence. A. Clark's "Childhood's End": Robot Edition. 

(A truly good thing is that I missed with my prediction that they're gonna make Megatron a lower-class worker, while Orion will be a sweet summer child of the middle class, naively wondering, oh why do these poor people suffer on the lower levels of Cybertropolis.)

Easter is coming. Nothing turns me on to sin more than holy days. I'm planning to do some eggy valveplug, but struggling to come up with something truly outstanding. (I already have multiple hot pieces in my drafts, just not on this topic.) Maybe you guys could help. Just one or two fine and kinky ideas to make my brain engines going.