Better Medic

YES I DO HAVE HANDS, THANKS ( age is 20+ )

[pharma-sutra]

“Yeah, my waist is already pretty slutty. But could it be sluttier?”

Pharma paused what she was doing -pouring another cup of coffee- and squinted at Rodimus. And then said waist.

"Well," she started, lifting her cup up to her lips, but not quite taking a drink, moreso studying him, his anatomy. "Before we talk about waist, we need to talk about accenting features. Things around the waist. Are you following?" Her, she did take a sip, but she also began to circle him.

"You have a nice figure as is, really. I'm sure someone would kill for it. May have already done so. Nice chassis to hip ratio. Your entire torso is well done. But if you want it sluttier, you need attention pulled to it. We could do that by just making it smaller, sure, but only idiots and new doctors, which are not mutually exclusive, do that. I am a doctor, and I know what I'm doing."

Here, a manic light entered his optics, smiling creeping up at the corners of her mouth.

"So. I can be safe and boring, making your waist a little smaller.. or we can start talking about accents. Your choice."

[pharma-sutra]

[Adapt.OS,] a tired, coaxing voice calls. [Adaptus. i need you. please come out.]

Like moth to a flame, Adaptus came out, all but gliding across to meet Primus, arms outstretched, servos reaching to cup Prim.OS' cheeks.

[Of course, of course, you only need call for me-]

[pharma-sutra]

"Why don't you join me for the evening, my pretty little bird." The purple tank pats his lap, urging the flier to him with a little helm tilt. His optics dim and lazy as they wander over her frame.

Pharma peered back at Tarn, hesitant, before making her way over to him, wings folding back and down respectfully.

There was a pause, as she deliberated over how to actually climb up into his lap -difficult to do with no servos- before ultimately taking the more embarrassing route.

Which meant lifting her arms up towards him, optics pleading. "I'm afraid I.. may need assistance, in that?"

[megalomaniatron]

Beep! That's the sound of Ratchet being sent a picture.

Ratchet's optics briefly unfocus as he swaps his attention to his HUD rather than sterilizing the tools in the hot bin of surfactant in front of him--

Oh. Pharma.

Huh.

:: What're you sending me? I'm not looking at your wetware in the middle of the medbay. ::

[pharma-sutra]

::Who said anything about wetware? It's tasteful, just look!:: The glyphs have a bit of a teasing lilt to it, as though Pharma were daring him.

And if he did, he would see that Pharma's wings had been bound in intricate knots, snuggly and all the way to the base, tying them together so there were ramrod straight, looping up and around Pharma's throat.

Pharma is bent over at the waist, chin resting on one folded arm, and the other arm up, elbow resting on her wrist, face mostly hidden behind her forearm, save for an optic that peers out at the camera.

[pharma-sutra]

She hadn't thought about that chase in a while. Perhaps she'd tried to forget it entirely, but even still, it was a wriggling memory at the back of her processor, rotten and festering. She-

He'd dumped her here, in some sort of hand made indoor maze, with only one instruction: Run. And run she had, along the twisting corridors, left, right, left, right, until even she didn't know where she was.

And then the noises had started. Thudding pedes steps, banging on the walls, laughter and scratching like claws on metal- all intended to frighten her. 'If they find you..', Tarn had promised with the trailing off of his words. The imagination was much, much scarier than whatever he had cooked up, she wanted to say.

But this was the DJD. Anything they had planned was worse than any sort of dreamed scenario.

Pharma.. Pharma fled. And there was no letting up, either, silence occasionally breaking out into cacophony, spurring her on- herding her. Worst of all were the occasional, haunting sounds of music- the Empyrean Suite, the humming behind it nearly drowned out. Sometimes, she heard the popping of electricity, the charge in the air, Kaon, the yapping snarls of the Pet- the horrific sound of a grinder, Tesarus, or the whirling of a heated smelter of a mech, Helex.

On and on they drove her, past the point of exhaustion, past the point of collapse, until she was surrounded on all sides. In front of her, an open door - a trap, no doubt. Dare she take it?

"Find."

The energon in her lines ran cold. No.. no, please no.

"Kill."

The words carried through the hall in chilling echos, and with a muffled sob, the flightframe dragged herself through the door.

"Cleanse."

And then it slammed shut behind her.

"Rest well, Pharma. I'll be back to retrieve you- come early orn."

The lights clicked on- and Pharma opened her mouth to scream. All the she could manage, at first, was something of a whimper. Bodies of mechs lay haphazardly around the walls, hanging from the ceiling in a mockery of flight-dancing, sprawled in embrace at her pedes. Everywhere she turned to look away, empty, cold, dark sockets found her.

'Guilty!', they cried, 'Murderer!', and fresh solvent tears ran down Pharma's face. This time when she opened her mouth to scream, it carried down the hall.

[megalomaniatron]

"You would ask for denim."

"What's the problem? Huh? Can a mech not appreciate a fine washable material. Don't you wanna see my tits in a denim bikini?"

[pharma-sutra]

By the current look on her face, she's certainly thinking about it, at the moment. Mm. Ratchet..

"You are a menace, you know that?"

[pharma-sutra]

"What is-- you know what, actually? Never mind. I don't care."

Little wing flutter! "Oh it's Ratchet, the ever elusive medic come out of his hiding! Go on, go on, what were you going to ask? I'm dying to know."

[errant-tyranny]

"Taaaarn- Tarn, won't you come here a moment?"

Tarn wants, so badly, to not give in to Pharma when she calls him like a dog. He’s not going to heel, damn it all; he’s supposed to be the one holding her leash, not the other way around.

And yet he still slinks out from the dimly-lit office, optics squinted through the openings in his mask with irritation at being interrupted (and also because of the overhead light).

“What.”

[pharma-sutra]

Pharma is laid back against the couch, wings flared out wide, and beckons to him. She knows, of course, he's working very hard in these peace times, and she is busy in her own right, of course, but when she gets home, she'd like to eat dinner with him.

"It's getting late, Tarn, won't you save your work and come sit with me for a while? Have you had dinner?" She fussed, of course, couldn't help but to do so. Her digits curl out towards him.

[redeyedefiant]

"I couldn't help it, you're so cute-"

13’s ears twitch back. If he had lips, he’d probably be scowling, but as it is the Hunter’s minimal EM field is all scrambled and embarrassed like he ought to be blushing.

“You really just go around picking up unsuspecting men like a hobby, huh, sweetheart.”

[pharma-sutra]

"You can always ask Tarn, I suppose." Although by her tone, she's delighted by the petname. He's so small and so darling, a monoformer from Terra, she thinks. Poor thing doesn't even know what Cybertron is, even.

"13, isn't it? Or do you have another name?"

[redeyedefiant]

“13’s my sequence number. S’a… like a way of keeping track how many times I’ve had to be rebooted after a hard crash, ‘cept that doesn’t really matter anymore at this point. Was more important before the… uh, upgrade to Guardian class… So my name is Bunn-13, but nobody really uses it. Just get called 13 or Bunny these days.”

He’s trying very, very hard to word things in a way he thinks the giant vehicle robots will understand it. Pharma’s been mostly pretty nice, if just weird and a little too eager to baby-talk at him.

Bunny shifts his weight and jumps, catching himself on a ledge of her armor and scrambling up to her shoulder to perch there instead of standing exposed on the table.

“I’m not gonna ask Tarn. Purple guy, mask, hums to himself all the time? Just hearing him makes my Light fluctuate weird. No. Don’t like that.”

[pharma-sutra]

'Guardian-class', she mumbles to herself, wings flicking up and then down. It must have something to do with that giant globe that sent out an EMF so very strange, she'd wanted to touch it.

And then promptly stopped wanting to touch it when it had scrambled hers, like it was reaching back.

So she sympathizes with Bunny's not understand Tarn, too.

"Tarn is what we call a Point One Percenter, or an Outlier Spark. They usually have some sort of ability. In our case, Tarn can, ah.. well, the easiest way to describe it is that he can 'talk' to machinery. And he does very much so like music. You should hear him play, I think it might offset the humming experience." She does hold her palm up to catch him, should he fall, and waits until he's stable to keep moving. "Tell me more about yourself, though. What do you mean, rebooted?"

[redeyedefiant]

"I couldn't help it, you're so cute-"

13’s ears twitch back. If he had lips, he’d probably be scowling, but as it is the Hunter’s minimal EM field is all scrambled and embarrassed like he ought to be blushing.

“You really just go around picking up unsuspecting men like a hobby, huh, sweetheart.”

[pharma-sutra]

"You can always ask Tarn, I suppose." Although by her tone, she's delighted by the petname. He's so small and so darling, a monoformer from Terra, she thinks. Poor thing doesn't even know what Cybertron is, even.

"13, isn't it? Or do you have another name?"

[errant-tyranny]

Silken is the sound that catches her as she's cleaning up. Minor injuries are that come by her, these days, and she is glad for it, but it isn't terribly interesting work. Pausing, she turns her helm towards the door- she would say it was Tarn playing his music loudly, again, if she didn't know better, but... no. That sounded like a Live playing. Shutting the draw she'd been in, she sanitizes her servos and follows the sound down the hall, and then peers in through the doorway, as though trying not to be caught.

His passion has always been music.

Of course, Pharma was his great love and the Cause his devotion (even now he held some scrap of- of hope that the Decepticon Cause held merit, as childish and naive as it feels to cling to it; at the very least the aspects of comradery and community support have been instrumental-- hah-- in repairing his sense of self after the shattering blow dealt by Megatron's abdication).

He had begun as part of an orchestra. He naturally found himself in the role of conductor before long, and the skills he developed playing such a role had served him well in both Grindcore and marshalling the Justice Division into a swift and decisive arm of the Decepticon forces.

In his 'retirement', music has become comfort.

Tarn is oblivious to the slim shadow in the doorway as he plays, mask lifted and smile exposed as the bow in his hand glides smoothly over the strings, making Damus sing once again.

[pharma-sutra]

How beautiful he is, because even standing still, he is in motion.

Pharma wonders at him from the doorway, the graceful movement of the bow, his stance, the broad smile on his face, and she has, of course, always known he was beautiful, but she is struck by it, here, wind sucked straight out of her vents.

She believes organics call the sensation 'being breathless'. It is something better understood when it comes.

And oh, but he is gorgeous when he is smiling, truly smiling, a sort of joy that makes her feel like she is experiencing flight with her pedes on the ground. That's not to mention the sound of the music- like he's an orchestra all on his own, the trill of the violin and the way it reverberated off the walls so that it sounded like a multitude made her spark seize as surely as though he were speaking to her with his Voice.

She dare not interrupt him, for fear of breaking the spell, though, slim digit curling quietly around the doorframe.

But eventually, her optics dim, and then shut off. Whatever song he is playing, she feels herself being.. transported, perhaps, somewhere else, somewhere warm.. somewhere...

Somewhere. A feeling of somewhere she's been, before, the scent not of the mithral sea that she knows along the shore of the temple, but of a city, the sounds of pedesteps and murmuring of mechs around her.

[goodwillfidgetspinner]

she deserves a little murder, actually.

[pharma-sutra]

“Pharma. Pharma, I ache for you. I am starved of you. Pharma, my love.”

Pharma rolls a little, onto her side, and makes a soft, questioning chirp, optics blinking.

"Then come here and have me."

[errant-tyranny]

Tarn’s engine pitches into a low, rolling growl— no, a purr. He’s purring, rough like he doesn’t do it often, as if he stifles the reaction and forces himself to quiet.

Maybe because the vibrations interfere with his little talent.

He carefully levers himself onto the berth on his own side to face Pharma, guarding her from the doorway.

“Hello.”

[pharma-sutra]

Pharma cups Tarn's neck, lets her servo slide real slow down to his chassis, where the vibrations are the strongest, and makes her own, answering noise, optics squinting as she smiles at him.

In her personal, professional opinion, she likes his rumblies the best.

"Hello. I missed you." He works, and she works, and their hours are.. strange, but they understand the importance of each other's work. It doesn't make her miss him any less.

[patchworkpoison]

pharma redesigns 🤒

[pharma-sutra]

“Pharma. Pharma, I ache for you. I am starved of you. Pharma, my love.”

Pharma rolls a little, onto her side, and makes a soft, questioning chirp, optics blinking.

"Then come here and have me."

[pharma-sutra]

"Glad to know I've been reduced to 'work-in-progress'."

[pharma-sutra]

.....

"Where did all these t-cogs come from."