#jeegoo

[warframestuff]

🎆🎇✨Happy New Year!✨🎇🎆

No Romance Edition feat @jeegoo 's Drifter

[bitegore]

fucking UNFINISHED

HELP yeah.... yeah.

[kusakichan15]

Stolen Moments 💖

A special commission for @jeegoo for their MegOp server's 4th anniversary, which I'm also a part of 🥺💕

Imma just gonna go cry in a corner 😭😭😭

[archie-daycare]

Oh boy, I would LOVE to see a picture of Optimus praying to Jesus Primus!

GREAT ask, jeegoo! just like me, all of cybertron is now christian!!!! feel free to ask me which branch of christianity every single transformer is. im super enthusiastic about jesus now!

[dracoqueen22]

For @jeegoo, who requested the schmoopiest, cutest, most fluffiest aerith/tifa valentine you can produce, please. ♥ I know this is months late, but Draco's finally got her groove back, so these flash fics should start showing up! <3

The internet is full of ideas. There are a thousand ways to celebrate Valentine’s Day with your loved one, from balloons to flowers to chocolates to gifts to extravagant trips and public displays of affection. 

Tifa has spent hours trying to find something perfect. She’s wandered in and out of stores. She’s smelled so many flowers her head aches. She’s tasted chocolate until she was sick of it. She contemplated jewelry and stared aghast at the prices until she reminded herself that Aerith doesn’t want to be doused in gems. 

She still hasn’t found a gift that would out-do Aerith’s performance in Gold Saucer, and the song she’d sang that captured Tifa’s heart forever. 

The boys – and Yuffie – are of no help whatsoever. 

“Booze,” Cid suggests as he yanks something grease-covered out of an old car he insists is going to run any day now. “Something to share. Get you both nice and warm and tipsy. Oh, and lingerie. Works like a charm.” 

“I’m asking you what you think Aerith would like, not you,” Tifa huffs. “But I’ll be sure to pass the message on to Vincent.” 

Cid tilts back, shoving up his goggles to reveal two perfectly circular patches of clean skin surrounded by something tarry and oily. “Ya really think he’d wear lingerie?” 

“I think he’d wear anything if you asked him to,” Tifa says with all the honesty in the world, and then she makes herself scarce before Cid offers anything else unhelpful. Or puts more images into her mind that she doesn’t want to have there. 

It doesn’t stop her from searching online though. There are so many lovely lace and satin things that would look phenomenal on Aerith, but lingerie is really a gift for herself, isn’t it? So Tifa sadly closes the tabs. 

“A book,” Nanaki suggests when she dares stir him from a nap in the noonday sun. His ears flick, chasing off an irritating gnat. “Aerith likes to read.” 

“It’s not really romantic though,” Tifa says, scrunching up her nose. 

“A book of poetry?” Nanaki tries. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you want me to say. Human customs elude me.” He puts his head back down with a long, mournful sigh. 

Tifa thanks him with a scritch behind the ear, which Nanaki insists he does not like, but still tilts his head into her hand just so and makes a rumble of content.

“Materia!�� Yuffie declares, swinging down from an overhead branch and landing without a sound. 

Tifa hadn’t even realized she was up there. 

“Materia is not romantic,” Tifa says.  

Yuffie plants her hands on her hips, squints, and says, “red materia?” like changing the color of the magical orb is going to change the romanticism of it. “See? It’s romantic because it shows her that you like kicking ass together.” 

“That would work if Aerith were Barrett,” Nanaki says, attempting to swat Yuffie with his tail, but she backflips out of the way at the last second. “I’m trying to nap.” 

“You’re always napping,” Yuffie complains. “You promised you’d spar with me, remember? We’re supposed to be working on our new attack!” 

The last time they created an attack together, they set a grocery store on fire. Cloud’s still paying for damages. It is fortunate that monster extermination pays well, and that Cloud is susceptible to Yuffie’s pleading face. 

Tifa wisely makes herself scarce. 

Barrett, currently scrunched at a table meant for children, with a coloring book and crayons while Marlene sits across from him, says, “She likes flowers,” as if Tifa could not figure this out for herself. 

“Flowers are cliche,” Marlene pipes up, legs swinging beneath the table. 

Tifa plants her hands on her hips. “Where did you learn that word?” 

“I read,” Marlene beams and leans over the table to peer at her father’s work. “Daddy, grass is green, not purple.” 

Barrett harrumphs. “It’s my coloring page, and I’ll color it the way I want to.” He puts down the purple and picks up green, which he uses on the petals of a sunflower. “Some rules are meant to be broken, sweetheart.” 

“Grass is green,” Marlene insists with that certainty of all children everywhere but she looks up at Tifa and smiles, “I’ll bet Miss Aerith thinks you’re the best gift of all, Miss Tifa.” 

Tifa chuckles and musses Marlene’s hair. “You’re probably right,” she says, and makes herself scarce before the argument over what color the grass is supposed to be turns into a war in which Marlene confiscates all the purple. 

Cloud shows up with a delivery just after sunset, covered in dust from a day spent riding to Junon and back, all for the sake of a particular brand of whiskey Tifa can’t get anywhere else. 

“What’re you doing for Valentine’s Day?” Tifa asks as she leans against the door frame and watches Cloud unstrap and unload the carefully packed crates. “A trip out to Gongaga perhaps?”

Cloud’s cheeks go an adorable shade of pink as he ducks his head. “No,” he very much lies. “I’m working.” 

“Sure.” Tifa pretends to let him have his privacy. Besides, she’s not sure which of the three surviving members of SOLDIER are currently courting Cloud or which one he’s actively entertaining at the moment. 

He’s really spoiled for choice. 

“Why?” Cloud asks, all gruff machismo restored as he hauls one bottle-heavy crate onto his shoulder without breaking a sweat, muscles rippling beneath sun-browned skin. 

Tifa has eyes so she lets herself ogle the scenery. She’s only human and well, Aerith understands. She’d be ogling too if she were here and not at the orphanage today. 

“Just curious.” She steps back to give him room to get into the bar. “I’m stumped for what to get Aerith.” 

Cloud sets the crate onto the counter, the bottles rattling noisily. “Give her a memory,” he says after a moment of staring into the middle distance. “She’ll like that.” 

“A memory,” Tifa repeats. She supposes for someone like Cloud, that would be a precious thing. “Thanks. That helps.” 

Cloud shrugs and goes back out for the other crate. Tifa follows. She could easily carry these in herself, but Cloud likes to feel useful, so she lets him. 

“You should go to Gongaga,” Tifa suggests. “Make a few of your own.” 

Cloud’s blush deepens. He ducks his head and gives too much focus to unbuckling the last strap. “I’ll think about it.” 

Tifa tilts her head, unable to stop the grin. “Wear the dress.” 

“I’m not wearing the damn dress!” Cloud huffs, but his face is a fierce crimson, deeper than Vincent’s cape. He’s definitely considering the dress. 

Tifa laughs and goes back into Seventh Heaven to start unpacking the crate. 

Cloud’s suggestion tugs at her, and Tifa spends the rest of the night chewing on it. She serves drinks, listens to tales of woe, throws out a man who’s getting too handsy, and pours a very drunk Reno into the back of a taxi, sending him home to Rude. 

His idea, offered without asking, was booze and cigarettes. While great gifts for Rude, they are completely unhelpful for Tifa. 

It’s Vincent who helps make the idea click. He shows up right before closing as he often does, and Tifa allows it because Vincent knows how to use a broom and dustpan. He doesn’t argue when she hands them over. 

“Make her a promise,” he says, pausing to squint into the middle distance just like Cloud. Lost in decades of loneliness and old memories, she guesses. He and Cloud are a lot alike. “Something tangible.” 

Tifa hums as she scrubs at a particularly sticky patch on the bar. “I expected you to suggest a weapon or a crypt or, I don’t know, a Queen’s Blood card.” 

“...Why?” 

“Because all of our friends are idiots,” Tifa huffs. She throws down the rag, victorious. She swears that was gum, and if she finds out Reno’s leaving it all over the place again, she’s going to snatch him by the ponytail and make him lick her floors clean. Asshole. “Cid wants you in lingerie by the way.” 

Vincent ducks behind his collar, but his sigh is audible anyway. “I know,” he mutters and sweeps that much harder. 

Tifa laughs. 

The idea is nebulous, but it takes shape until Tifa knows exactly what she’s searching for, and that’s when the excitement sets in. There’s a craftswoman in Wutai who sells what Tifa needs, and she pays triple to bump her request to the top of the queue. Reeve assists by offering a private courier to ensure a speedy arrival, though it now means Tifa owes him a diplomatic mission.

Ah, well. Anything for her girl.

Gil is going to be tight for a while, but the expense is worth it when she unwraps the box to take a peek. Rose gold and silver intertwine in delicate braids as blooming flowers intermittently sprout in metal whorls. It’s elegant and beautiful, but sturdy. 

Aerith may not be one for jewelry, but hopefully she’ll make an exception this time. 

Valentine’s Day comes, and Tifa’s blown her whole budget on the gift, but that’s alright because Aerith cooks and bestows Tifa with a photo of their victory at the Gold Saucer Arena, arms wrapped around each other as their opponents lie in defeated heaps. 

“You should hang it in the bar,” Aerith suggests. “That way all your patrons will know not to mess with you.” 

Tifa grins. “I’m pretty sure they already know that, but I still love it.” She leans in, steals a kiss that tastes like the sauce Aerith’s been simmering and taste-testing. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Aerith rests her head on Tifa’s shoulder and looks up at her imploringly. “Now where’s mine?” 

“You’re so impatient,” Tifa says, but she pulls out the small clamshell box, takes Aerith’s hand, and sets it into her palm. “Here.” 

Aerith’s eyes go wide. She practically holds her breath as she pushes the top up and beholds the handcrafted ring, which manages to perfectly sparkle under the cheap fluorescent bulb. 

“It’s gorgeous,” she breathes.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Tifa says as she strokes her thumb over the back of Aerith’s hand, tracing little scars born from too many years handling thorny roses. “Or it can mean everything. It’s up to you.” 

Aerith curls her fingers around Tifa’s, warm and tender. “I think it means yes,” she says, her eyes wet and her cheeks pink. She’s the loveliest person in the world. “Will you put it on me?” 

“You really like it?” Tifa asks. “It’s not too soon…?”

“I love it.” Aerith’s voice is thick, a bit snotty. “And I love you. I’m saying yes.” 

Tifa’s heart swells in her chest. She takes the ring and slides it onto Aerith’ finger, where it fits perfectly, the rose gold matching with her skin tone, and the delicate leaves like a flower in fresh bloom. 

“It’s perfect,” Aerith warbles and pulls Tifa into a fierce hug that turns into a sweet, sweet kiss that tastes a bit like salt from happy tears. 

Tifa doesn’t ask it, but she thinks maybe, just maybe, she’s given Aerith a wonderful memory. Almost as good as the song. 

***

[sroloc--elbisivni]

Ship Bingo; Jazz/Optimus

listen. loyal knight vibes? impeccable. also the two bastards energy. i just want to see them cause mayhem and i don't particularly care in what configuration, but the only ship scenario i have on the brain for them is an offshoot of the warlord bang fic where jazz is sold off to a warlord he doesn't realize is a DIFFERENT one than the one who got his friend last year and is planning on assassination until some things get explained and OP implies he would be a bad spouse, and then he has to prove him wrong of course (jazz, after getting married: not evil anymore i want to be loved. jazz, after seeing his friend who didn't even bother sending a letter to say he was alive: evil again) i get too distracted by shenanigans to look for romance.

[theraptorcage]

I love learning about birds from you guys.

[warframestuff]

Tentative list so far. If you're able to record a hex member (or the not dating option) please let me know!

Amir: @/void-madness

Arthur: @/alcyonsa

Aoi: @/alteredsilicone

Eleanor: @/warframestuff

Quincy: @/divxrcethesky

Lettie: @/juneauglow

Not Dating: @/jeegoo

I'd like to make gifsets of all the hex's new years kisses, but I'm only dating Eleanor so if anyone wants to record their kisses with the other members (and the one option when you're not dating any of the hex) and send it to me when it becomes available so I can make gifs that'd help immensely!

[bitegore]

Never have I ever; mutual pining?

I can swear I've written it before, but I can't pt a specific name to the trope. I do love an "idiots don't realize they're both in love" fic, though, it's a favorite trope to read of mine

[plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows]

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?

lmfao someday i will get to australia, but maaaaaaaaaaan it will be sometime during the winter XDD wanna see all ur oldass rocks!

[spacegate]

top ten internet cats?

1. LIL BUB! good job bub! @bublog​

2. KEYBOARD CAT

3. SHIRONEKO

4. WILFRED WARRIOR

5. MARU!!!

6. POKI!!! (trigger warning for cat injuries at the beginning)

7. THE SURI NOEL FAMILY (They have english cc subtitles)

8.ARTYOM[KOMRADE KAT]

9.  COLE AND MARMALADE

10. NALA CAT (and fam!)

[transfemstarscream]

Leave Jeegoo alone, you insufferable drama leech. Do you just go onto every Optimus and Starscream post looking for people to bitch about? Good lord you're annoying.

hello spam anon. how are you this morning?

[dracoqueen22]

For @jeegoo : RE8: Village, Lady Dimitrescu/Ethan Winters okay so her mutation involves growth and that can mean bottom growth right? so she fucks Ethan with her massive girlcock and Ethan is less screaming/dying and more moaning/squirming and shockingly durable for a filthy manwhore uwu femdom, noncon plz

The manthing is more durable than Alcina expected. 

Certainly he’s more durable than any other manthing that has snuck into her castle. Those greedy creatures with their lustful glances at her daughters, eager to stick their meat into unwilling flesh. All men are pigs, she thinks, but especially human men. 

They are quite delicious once Alcina’s had her fun. Once she’s used them to bits, divided their fleshy parts for the beasts, and left the sweet blood nectar for her daughters. It’s their only redeeming quality, she believes. Entertainment and food. 

But this one. 

This Ethan Winters is nothing like the others. She thinks she’ll use him quickly, and leave him as food for her daughters, but he doesn’t whimper and cry for mercy like the others. His face is a rictus of agony, tears from his eyes, his body is mottled with bruises, but spend spatters his belly, and his cock is yet full again, eager for more pleasure. 

Eager for what she gives him. 

Ethan won’t come if she calls for him. He won’t undress without the use of force, until Alcina stopped allowing him clothes altogether. She’s had a collar fashioned for him, courtesy of that imbecile Heisenberg, if only because Ethan’s more entertaining alive than dead. 

He never parts his legs willingly. He never begs her for release. His cock is too small to offer Alcina any pleasure, though his mouth works well enough with the proper incentive. He chokes and coughs and makes vague noises of protest, but when the fight's gone out, oh, his mouth is useful indeed. 

But it’s the way he writhes on her cock that Alcina enjoys the most. 

Alcina doesn’t often bother to grow out her flesh into this shape. Her cunt and her clit are far more pleasurable, and she has no envy for manthings and their dangly bits. However, there are times a manthing needs to be taught certain lessons, and so she indulges. Briefly. For entertainment before she distributes their remains to whomever would enjoy it most. 

Ethan, however. 

It had been curiosity. She’d grown tired of smothering him beneath her cunt, had been bored by the lackluster efforts of his tongue as he grew less energetic. It’s an odd thing, how he survives though she doesn’t feed or water him. Some inner fire keeps him burning, and Alcina is absolutely fascinated by it. How long will he last, she wonders after he’s collapsed post-use, an unconscious heap of beating-heart and raspy breathing, who wakes the next day with renewed demands for freedom and his daughter and blah-blah-blah. 

The muzzle was a particularly wonderful investment, but she sometimes has use of Ethan’s mouth, so she usually removes it when it’s time to play. 

He’s an irritating, disobedient mess when she’s trying to make use of his mouth. Often not worth the effort. She had every intention of draining his blood and throwing his flesh to the wolves. Let Heisenberg’s mangy things have a treat for once. 

On a whim, Alcina threw Ethan on his belly and speared him with her cock. At least then she wouldn’t have to look at his face. 

But oh! The way he goes limp, the way he shakes all over, the way he squirms – all thoughts of killing Ethan flew away. He’s so deliciously hot and tight around her cock. He makes beautifully pathetic noises, and his pleasure is of the helpless kind. Begging her to stop while his cock spurts and his hole tightens and he pants, smelling deeply of pained lust. 

It’s exquisite. 

“Be still,” Alcina tells him, but Ethan helplessly cannot. Whether she takes him on his belly or on his back, whether she sits him astride her and pulls him onto her cock, he writhes and chokes and gasps. She doesn’t even need to touch his flesh for him to spill. 

He’s quite contrary about cleaning up after himself, the useless manthing. It takes some convincing to get his mouth to work and clean her of his mess. As if she wants his sticky semen to dry tacky on her skin. Ugh. 

Manthings make so much mess. She doesn’t know how Mother Miranda tolerates them, she truly doesn’t. They have so little use. Even Ethan, who should be exhausted and limp most of the time, still tries to escape, still tries to fight back. 

It’s a curious willpower. 

Alcina breaks him and bruises him and fucks him, and yet he claws back to himself every time. A most durable toy. 

Even now, Alcina has him speared on her cock, pushed as deep as she can, until there’s a little bulge in his belly. He’s pale and shaky, but his little cock is flush and heavy. His thighs stretch wide over hers, trembling from the effort. He would sag backward, if not for her grip on the leash, tethering his throat to her fingers. 

“Move your hips,” she tells him, leaning one elbow on the arm of her chair as she watches through slitted eyes. One finger drags up and down his leg, drawing little curls of blood to sweeten the air. “You’re boring me.” 

“Fuck you,” Ethan rasps, chin dipping, head hanging. His eyes are ringed with exhaustion. This is their third session today. 

He’s most delightful when he doesn’t have the energy to speak or move, when he lolls about like a little rag doll for her to use.

“My,” Alcina purrs, “Such obscene language. You manthings truly have no manners.” 

Ethan growls at her, his hands pulling into useless fists where they lay bound above his abdomen. “I’m going to kill you slowly.” 

Alcina draws another droplet of blood and touches her fingernail to her tongue, tasting the rich fluid once more. “Empty threats,” she purrs and reels him a little closer with the leash. 

Ethan chokes, shifting and tightening on her cock, and a shock of pleasure radiates up her spine. His cock dribbles, his hips moving into tight circles, his protests at odds with the wants of his body. 

Oh, yes. Ethan Winters is a delightful toy indeed. 

Alcina can’t wait to see how much he’ll endure. 

***

[sroloc--elbisivni]

Character opinion bingo; Raphael (TMNT)?

TURTLES. going with Rise (2018) version because that's the one I've seen most of. i love him, is the thing, i love him so much, he's big and full of affection and overprotective and has this potential to be angry and he tries SO HARD, ALL THE TIME, HE TRIES. he's also appointed himself chief cat herder of this circus he runs around with which by god is that a thankless job. also he's so fucking astute even if he's not good with making plans, he GETS stuff. magic weapon magic weapon magic weapon! like if i had to trust any of these four terrible teenagers to get something done without haring off on their own thing. i would trust raph. also his brothers use him like a jungle gym and it's so good. more raph always.

eta because i can’t believe i forgot—i am a SUCKER for an insecure leader. hits Blorbo Button in my brain hard. god i love raph.

[blackberreh-art]

Please tell me all the things about Autoclave. I love her.

Autoclave is oooold. Old and cranky and was one of the best medics to have grazed cybertron. 

A senator wanted her, she said no, and she was punished and empurated 😔

She’s honestly a right bitch and isnt nice to anyone and honestly, mood.

[severeannoyance]

@jeegoo: go to sleep, do not finish your drink first.

Joke’s on you I am 100% sober.

What if TFA Cybertronians were like lobsters, and they molted into bigger and bigger shells as they got older?