#in the blender you go

[maelicgrn]

Some drawings with the siblings ever (and bill)

Love this show to pieces, it'll always have a special place in my heart

[milesofstars]

dont worry about it jason...

[paintedcrows]

He posts these to interdimensional instagram with a disturbingly cutesy caption and then kills 10 men

[slfcare]

the thing is; this world needs you exactly as you are.

[totomiumiu]

I hope Daniel and Armand's reunion in season 3 is Daniel waking up in his hotel room to find Armand in the kitchenette, putting rats in the microwave.

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Transcript:

Machine, this florp is a dubious little creature.

Up to no good.

The beast is demonic in nature.

Very icky.

Audio source

Animation with a similar clip

Vid being referenced

[cybertron-smash-or-pass]

TF One Sentinel Prime

[pinkxpantha]

Mine all Mine

-Wriothesley x GN! Reader

#: synopsis- literally just wriothesley being domestically clingy with his S/O

#:cw- ~520 words, tooth rotting type fluff, canon complient, established relationship, I wrote this at 1 am, he's clingyyy

Wriothesley is the type to savor every moment with you. He''s a busy man. He'll spend hours and his desk and a few more with work affiliated things. At some point, it feels as though each minute with you is just a mere second in the grand scheme of things. Trust him when he says he wishes he could be home more often, coddled in your arms, his head leaning on your chest as he listens to the pulse of your heartbeat.

Ever burdened by work, he finds himself needing more of you in his life. Yes, he keeps pictures of you in his office. (You'd have to convince him not to plaster your face on the ground and the ceiling) Yes, he keeps a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers in a vase. (He used to not care for such things until he saw how you loved the way they bloomed)

Yes, Wriothesley cannot get enough of you.

Even on the days where he couldn't catch up to his breathing, when the floor seemed to move even when he was standing still. He found himself drumming your heartbeat into the palm of his hand. Bump-Ba-bump. The rhythm was second nature to him.

But no matter how many reminders he had of your presence, nothing compared to the real deal.

You in your entirety, and you in your smallest form. Some night's he'd swear to kiss every cell of your body so you'd always have his love be apart of you.

Each time you'd smile back at him, maybe even tease his insensible fantasy. He swears he becomes the happiest man alive.

Your nighttime routine is rarely completed without some form of memento from him. He'd write sticky notes in your favorite color with caring words (and occasionally a sticker from one of the melusines)

Even after you drifted off to sleep, by the late times he returns to you, he returns to his home. As soon as he could, he'd lay there in bed with you. His hand rested on top of your palm, as the valley in between your fingers served as his hand's resting point.

His grip would always be loose, swearing that the frost of his vision would crawl onto his fingertips, stirring you from your slumber.

And no matter what, he would always sleep with his head facing yours (his so-called solution to sleepless nights). The barriers of personal space seemed to bind themselves together. So don't be surprised when he wakes you up, cupping your jaw.

He'd always say that he needs to see the most soul before he sets out for the day ahead of him. His course voice would tell you that you could fall asleep again, hoping you wouldn't see how his cheeks rose with mirth when you would be the first thing he wakes up to.

All in all, he thinks of you as the beginning of a new dawn, and the end of a long day. He wouldn't have it any other way.

I didn't want to write dialogue.. can you tell?

Not proofread ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ), I'm used to writing x fem readers, If something seems implied that reader is fem please reach out to me so I can fix it 🙏🙏

Also anons are open :))

[keferon]

Picking up from the end of The Blurr Chapter – Swerve has a bad case of survivor's guilt

------------------------------------------------------------

He's been to another planet.  How can he have been to another planet, when he didn't even know it existed? 

Swerve can't stop thinking about it as he wanders aimlessly out of the medibay.

He's been to another planet.  He has been to another planet.  To another planet.

He must have been.  Because he knows Jazz.  And Jazz is real.  And if Jazz is real….

Swerve's spiral of thoughts screech to a halt.  Because if Jazz is real….

The idea alone is enough to send him careening back through the hallways towards where he had abandoned Jazz and Prowl moments earlier.

"JAZZ!"  Swerve shouts as soon as he has eyes on the duo.

"Hey," Jazz says, smiling casually as Swerve skids to a halt in front of him.  "What's the rush?  Where'd you run off to?"

"Never mind that," Swerve says urgently. "Earth, you know where it is?  You're from there?  It's real?"

"Yes.  Earth's real.  My home planet.  I—"

"The Mecha program--" Swerve cuts across whatever Jazz was about to say.  "That was real too?"

"Yes.  I…are you sure I don't know you?"  Jazz asks.

"Blurr," Swerve blurts out, swallowing back the acrid fuel trying to rise up his intake.  "Was there a Blurr associated with the program? Did you know him?"

"Are you kidding me?  Blurr was the program.  Or at least that's what they wanted everyone to believe.  Face plastered on posters and billboards and merchandise.  Fastest man alive, all that.  Everyone on Earth knows of Blurr.  Doubt anyone really knew the man though, if you follow me, not really the friendly type.  Why're you wondering?  And how do you even—"

Swerve doesn't here the rest of Jazz's question.  Doesn't even really see Jazz and Prowl standing in front of him anymore.  Because….

"Oh," he groans.

Oh.

Blurr is real (was real, because he was dying, must be dead by now).

It was all real.

And Swerve left him there, dying.  Did nothing.  He had done nothing but stand there and talk at the man as he was dying.  And then left before Blurr could ask him the question he wanted to know the answer to.  A dying man's last request, not just any man's – Blurr's – last request, and Swerve had ignored him.  Swerve's last words to Blurr, the last words he'd likely ever heard had been that it wasn't real.

And maybe it hadn't been for Swerve, but for Blurr it had been very real.

The man had been dying.  How much must his words have hurt on top of all the injuries Blurr had already sustained?  Even if he hadn't known any better.  Even though Swerve wouldn't have been able to do anything even if he'd tried.  His hand had gone straight through Blurr's when he tried to reach out.

"You know that explains, but doesn't excuse you."

His own words to Blurr echo back across his mind.  He might be able to explain his action or lack thereof, but does it excuse it?  No.

Would he, could he, should he have done something different?  If he had called for a medic earlier?  If he could have stopped Blurr from running into the building that last time?  If he could have somehow pulled the man from the wreckage?  If he had installed more safety measures to Blurr's mech – measures he knew it was lacking in favor of looks and speed?

Or if he hadn't…if he hadn't left Blurr?  Would Blurr have made it back if Swerve had stayed with him?

Because Swerve remembers what Blurr had admitted just before his own words – that he had a hard time remembering.  And he'd seen Blurr's confidence as they worked together – Swerve marking the map and giving directions and Blurr pulling people out.  But without the map, and without Swerve to give directions….

Had Blurr stumbled, lost that confidence on his own?  Had he strayed, unable to remember Swerve's hasty set of directions that he'd so frantically been repeating?  Had that made him just a fraction too slow?

Would Blurr have been fast enough had they stayed together?  Swerve can almost believe he would have been.

But no, the man had to choose that moment to prove that Blurr was every bit the hero he was sold to be, and that Swerve had imagined when he stared at the posters.

Originally, he had hated Blurr for constantly having an entourage at his beck and call.  For constantly demanding people follow him around and help him and never even caring about something as basic as a name.  Had hated when Swindle bailed and Blurr had turned and enlisted him into going back into the building.

But now, now he hates more that Blurr hadn't asked for his help when he needed it.  Hates that the man had left Swerve behind.  Hates that his life had mattered more than Blurr's own – that Swerve's guaranteed survival might have cost Blurr any chance at his.  Hates that he knows now that his going would have cost nothing, that he would have survived regardless.

Fuck.

He was a coward.  He left Blurr.  First to run back into the building alone.  And then to die alone.

Fuck.

Swerve doesn't even know for sure that the man did die.  Has no idea what happened to him.  Because he left.

He needs to know.  Because he owes his memory of the man that much.  Because it turns out that for all he had thought Blurr an aft, he could never completely stop caring about the man.

Swerve squeezes his optics shut, ignoring the prick of coolant at the corners of his lids, and concentrates.  Concentrates harder than anything he's ever concentrated on before.  He's been to Earth.  Had manifested himself on a planet he didn't even know existed.  If he could do it by accident, he ought to be able to do it again intentionally.

Get back to Earth.  Find out what happened to Blurr.  That's all that matters. 

Swerve feels his hand shaking and clenches them into fists.

Get back to Earth.  Find Blurr.  Get back.

He sways slightly, pressure building across his helm.

"…erve…swerve.  Swerve.  SWERVE!"  Jazz's shout breaks through his concentration and Swerve watches as the faint, flickering projection of his human form right in front of him fades back to nothing.

Useless.  All that effort and concentration for something barely tangible that hadn't even managed to reach beyond himself, Jazz, Prowl, and this hallway.  He's never making it back to Earth.  He's never going to know.  He needs to know.  Needs to get back to Earth.

"You alright, Swerve?" Jazz is asking, looking worried.  Swerve wonders how long he's been standing there, silent in front of the others while they have no idea what's been going through his processor.

"You are Swerve, right?" Jazz asks as a follow-up.

"Yes," Swerve says, "Yes, I'm Swerve.  That's how you know me, how I know you.  And I need to get to Earth, now.  It's an emergency.  Please.  Please, Jazz."

-----------------------------------------------------

(Credits: The "You know that explains, but doesn't excuse you." line belongs to Keferon from their writing in the Blurr chapter.)

G O D D A M N ANON. WHO ARE YOU SHARE YOUR GEO LOCATION I JUST NEED TO TALK /J

[icehearts]

-- welcome back.

[breathofthewildyaverage]

Okay I lied, but this only took me an hour so it doesn’t count

Inspired by @crazylittlejester ‘s fic Lost Bets and Cat Sweaters, I read it forever ago but it’s been up in my thinker ever since so here’s fluffy hair Time

[ewwww-what]

She has charmed me with her hard to crack tough exterior (thinly veiled need for a sense of genuine community and understanding from the people she loves)

Uncolored under the cut :3

Look at her, what a freak.

[shadow0-1]

Wander the earth

[bubblebaath]

i cannot draw psychelocks to save my life so i modeled one as a drawing ref

[makemeimmortalwithahug]

edwin would love watching b dylan hollis' vintage baking while making sexual jokes. most of them would fly right over his head but he enjoys the nostalgia (even though most of the recipes are american), inspiration for niko and hey, if he doesn't get a joke, surely charles will be nice enough to explain it to him?

[brighan]

Ada-1 🤍💙

ON MAIN, BRIG? Yes. I don't post any explicit stuff here but I think you can handle a butt and a nip :) My other stuff goes into another account.

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