#regardless of how much attention it will get

[hya-ichor]

this whole response is a worthwhile read, but if i may highlight;

We can't sugarcoat how bad things are going to get, and we can't pre-emptively give into it anyway.

and

I'm not as absolutely shattered as I was in 2016, but I am much, much angrier. We all thought, we all hoped, America was better than this. It isn't.

is the mood going forward.

America is not better than this. I kept my hopes high and they plummeted this morning because America simply Is Not Better than re-electing a racist, fascist, criminal shitstain. That’s unfortunately something we have to confront to keep moving forward. For many people, the country we live in today has voted that our lives and our rights mean less than [the economy/proving a point to democrats/insert reason here].

AND ALSO.

We cannot become mired in despair. We cannot do their jobs for them and give up. We cannot remove ourselves from this equation. Our lives and our rights DO matter.

I’m not particularly proud of being an American; that doesn’t mean I get to stop being one.

Regardless of my feelings toward my country, I have a duty to everyone else —people in my city, people across the country, people on the other side of the world— that I stand up to fascism and tyranny however I can. There are many people more vulnerable than I am; this is true for every single citizen of the United States. We don’t get to give up the fight because we lost this battle. More battles are coming. More lives are at risk.

So grit your teeth, pay attention to your mental health, and get ready. The fight just got harder. We don’t get to tap out.

I don’t have any words right now for what’s happened. Where in the fuck do we go from here?

I don't know. I really, truly don't know. We can't sugarcoat how bad things are going to get, and we can't pre-emptively give into it anyway. This is going to be an unprecedented time in American history (if, sadly, not world history) and the forces conspiring to make you obey will gain much of their power from you doing so in advance, without a struggle. It seems fair to say that America as it has always been historically constituted is over, and may not return in our lifetimes, but we also do not know that for a fact. If nothing else, the fascists will find it very hard to cancel competitive elections, and we cannot sit back, throw up our hands, conclude that voting is clearly meaningless, and let them do that. There are a lot of other things that we need to do, but that's one.

There are various postmortems to be written and nits to pick, but Harris was thrown into an impossible situation and did the best she could in 100 days. Even her critics agree she ran a pretty much flawless campaign. But this country simply decided that a well-qualified black woman could not be preferred over the most manifestly and flagrantly unfit degenerate to ever occupy the office. They decided this for many reasons, not least because large swathes of the country now live in curated misinformation bubbles that, under Government Czar Musk, will only get much, much worse. They were helped by the cowardice and complicity of the "mainstream media" that could have ended Trump's career exactly like they did to Biden after the first debate, but chose to preserve the profits of their billionaire oligarch owners and did not do so, giving Trump the benefit of the doubt and normalization at every turn. They also hounded Biden relentlessly over the four years of his presidency, never reported on the good things he did, and drove him to the historically bad approval ratings lows for a president who was by any metric, quite successful (and will quite possibly be our last ordinary American president for a very long time). Along with the searingly ingrained racism and misogyny and misinformation, Harris could not overcome that.

Democrats clearly had a messaging problem, but it's also true that the country, quite simply, does not care about "democracy" when the economy is perceived to be at stake. Not to over-egg the Hitler parallels, but yeah. This is how Hitler returned to power in 1933 -- on the backs of widespread economic collapse of the Weimar Republic; voters decided they just didn't care about the overtly fascist stuff, which he then proceeded to you know, do with genocidal vigor. Except the American economy in this case was actually doing well, which makes it even more baffling and indefensible. Enough people simply memory-holed Trump's crimes (aided at every turn by SCOTUS, Mitch McConnell not convicting him after January 6, Merrick Garland being far too slow and timid, the corporate media), liked the racist fascist behavior or felt that it wasn't a dealbreaker, and decided that in this election, he was the "change" candidate. It's insane by any metric, but that's what happened.

The country is deeply sick. We do not know what will happen. It's going to get bad. Barring a miracle, we will not have federalized abortion rights again in my lifetime, and there will be widespread attacks on public health, women's rights, immigrants, transgender people, and other vulnerable people. Even and especially the ones who voted for Trump. Never Thought Leopard Would Eat My Face, etc. Alito and Thomas will swiftly step down and allow their seats to be replaced by 40-year old wingnuts hand-selected from the worst the Federalist Society has to offer. SCOTUS is gone for the next generation at least. There is very little prospect of it being ever fixed in the foreseeable future.

Trump will never face a scintilla of consequences for his previous crimes; all the open federal cases will be closed as soon as he takes office and fires Jack Smith. The best we can hope for is that he dies in office, but then we get Vance and the cadre of alt-right techno billionaires ruled directly from the Kremlin. Putin is celebrating this morning and with good reason; he's gotten everything he wants. Trump will egg on Netanyahu in Gaza and abandon Ukraine. Democracy across the world will remain even more fragile and badly under threat. Authoritarians will be empowered and American withdrawal from international systems will percolate in very dangerous ways that cannot and will not be fixed in the short run. I really hope all the leftists who celebrate this as the "defeat of the genocide candidate" will enjoy all the genocide and suffering that's about to come. And yes, I do think the Israel-Palestine war fucked us in a large way. Jewish voters perceived the Democrats as insufficiently pro-Israel due to the presence of far-left antisemitism, even as the far left attacked the Democrats relentlessly and never targeted the Republicans. Arab voters abandoned them, possibly deservedly. What would have happened without the war? We don't know. You get the historical period that you get. Netanyahu and Trump can now do anything they want. Hope it was worth it.

As I said, I can't sugarcoat it. We are going to be paying for this in some form for the next decade, and probably longer. I'm not as absolutely shattered as I was in 2016, but I am much, much angrier. We all thought, we all hoped, America was better than this. It isn't. That, however, is something that has also happened before. What we decide to do next will shape how the next chapter unfolds.

This would be a great time to stock up on needed medicines, renew your passport online, and anything else you need to do in preparation for next year. Many of us simply do not have the wherewithal, whether financial or otherwise, to leave the country. I don't know what will happen with me. I don't know what will happen to any of us. This was utterly avoidable and yet, America didn't want to avoid it. At some point, there's nothing else you can do. You can point to media cronyism, Russian influence, etc etc., but the fact that two of the most qualified presidential candidates who happened to be women have now lost to Trump twice makes it unavoidable. The virulent rightward shift of young men (of all races) in particular paints a grim picture as to how the reactionary misogyny of the 21st century is going to essentially undo most of the progress for social and gender equality in the 20th. The patriarchy has been a problem for most of human history. Doesn't really seem like it's going to change.

The end result of this, however grim: we're still here. We are still living within our communities. If (and this is a big if) Democrats can retake the House, they can put some checks on the process for the next two years. At this point, we are in full-out buying-time, trying-to-prevent-the worst mode. We could have continued fixing things, but we won't be doing that. We will only be trying to preserve ourselves and our friends and our smaller spheres of influence. It sounds very trite to say that we have to have courage, but we do. There's not much else.

It's going to be an awful winter. We have two and a half months to see this coming and know how bad it's going to be, and... yeah. I don't know how soon the buyer's remorse will inevitably set in, but it will. Tough luck, people. You voted for him. You get the country that you decide to have. But the rest of us are also here, and what Gandalf says is still true. We wish the Ring had never come to us, we wish none of this had happened, but we still have to decide what to do with the time that is given to us.

I don't have a lot more. I'll probably be logging off for a while. I don't need to look at the internet for.... yeah, a long time. (Will I do it anyway? Probably.) I don't know what else to leave you with, aside from again:

Do not obey in advance. Do not act as if everything is foreordained and set in stone. Fascist regimes end. They always do. We are going to have to figure out how, and it will suck shit, but the alternative is worse.

Take care of yourselves. I love you.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism x Reader: The Best at-

G/N. All my faves: Goo, Gun, Sammy, Jakey, Vin, Ryuhei, DG. Something cute and fluffy for this terrible day. Masterlists

Goo - The best at spoiling you

It's no surprise that whatever his little cupcake wants, his little cupcake gets.

He loves spending money at the best of times anyway. Whether buying something as a status symbol or just as a treat, the fact that he gets to spoil you too is an extra bonus.

Yeah he's hoarding wealth like he's a goddamn dragon, but he knows he can't take it with him.

So one word from you, or even a longing look, then you will get whatever your heart desires.

It doesn't just stop at material goods. Clothing, bags, skincare, cars, even a goddamn house. But you want a holiday? Here's the most luxurious of everything, first class, private jet, a villa. He's taking care of it, don't worry.

Oh, there's also some food you like?

It's not that he has feeder tendencies. It's just that if you say you like a particular snack or drink, he'll bulk buy it for you until you're literally sick of it.

Goo can and will spoil you. It makes him happy that he can do this for you, yknow. Why not let him.

Gun - The best at looking after you

It feels almost a shame that Gun isn't a househusband, because this man can take care of you like no-one's business.

Actually no, that's not right. Anything at all to do with you is HIS business.

You didn't realise he could be so servile, that he would be so content to just provide for and give to you.

Even your most obnoxious requests he would take on the chin with an eye roll and a huff of annoyance at most before doing what you want.

And that's for things you've asked for.

It's the little gestures that has become a part of your routine which really shows how much he loves you. Preparing your toothbrush in the mornings and just before bed. A cup of coffee just how you like it. Making sure the car is warm for you. Cooking up extra food for you even when you say you don't want any.

It's what makes him the sweetest (even if he is a demon with everyone else).

Samuel - The best at cuddling

Yes, this man exudes sex. Have you even seen his chest trying to burst out of his clothes?

And yes, sometimes your thoughts just get away from you as you rake your eyes over him.

Then when he catches you checking him out and gives you a smirk that shows he knows exactly what you're thinking of, don't worry he'll be happy to give you a demonstration later-

(Lord please have mercy on your soul.)

But it's actually the aftercare, the sweet touches, that Samuel really excels at.

The way he holds you, like he can't believe you're around and he doesn't want to let go, is what really pulls on your heartstrings.

He holds you and it's like you can breathe again, and whatever stress from your day drifts away as you press your body against his.

He touches you casually and intentionally. Like he can't get enough and wants you around forever.

Jake - The best at making you blush

Jake can be absolutely dirty and filthy when he wants, casually resting his hand on your lower back and whispering obscene things he wants to do with you later.

Your face blooms as indecent and very vivid, and very very explicit, thoughts cross your mind.

But of course that would make you blush. It's no surprise. It's also not something that Jake does often.

What he does do often, and what makes you blush, is actually very innocent.

Those winks of his, directed just to you, accompanied with a cheeky grin is enough to make you smile back even during your gloomiest moments.

You feel yourself flush at that little bit of attention given to you.

During his busiest days, when Jake catches your eye, regardless of his company, you'll get at the very least a soft smile. An acknowledgement that you're his most precious thing. Something to show everyone just how much you mean to him.

Your cheeks burn and you want to giggle and kick your legs every time.

Vin - The best relationship aesthetics

This is the person you go to for the best aesthetics. Although best is subjective.

Vin, this surprisingly sappy fool, loves matching outfits. Matching accessories. Matching whatever as long as it screams to the world that you're his.

Not that he would outright admit that he likes those stupid couple's t-shirts either, but expect sulking when you tell him that it's cringe. And eventually you will give in and wear it, because honestly? It's a bit cringe and a lot cute.

But the thing that makes Vin's heart skip a beat the most is you in his clothes. His cap, his hoodies. Even wearing his sunglasses for fun. He calls you a dork but finds you adorable.

Though his absolute fave? You in his Cheonliang Jacket.

(Better still when you return it, and his clothes smell like you.)

Ryuhei - The best at making time for you

He has absolutely no respect for work, or really anything that could take up his time when he could be spending it with you instead

Pretty much the opposite of Jake Kim in this respect, Ryuhei only has one priority. You.

Unfortunately this means that you must be the sensible one between the two of you. Ryuhei occasionally missing work to lie in bed all day with you is one thing, but when he daydreams about doing it for the next month then you have to snap him out of it.

At least this also means he will also come running whenever you want him to. Any time of the night, he will travel across the world at your word. Don't test him because he will absolutely do it.

The only downside is that when you do say goodbye for whatever reason, he looks like a kicked puppy.

DG - The best at...

You've seen him going at that lollipop. Man knows how to work that tongue.

[aliwritex]

WITH THE RED DRESS ON mv1

summary: Max finally has a free time, all for his girlfriend after working for so long and he wants to make a night that they’d remember.

warnings/contents: max being a sweetheart, brief mention of reader being petite, garter and stockings, slight size kink and stomach bulge mention. oral (f) and pinv

an: inspired by Red Dress by MAGIC! ENJOY!! (this was so not the dress i was envisioning)

Max had been waiting in your room for what felt like ten thousand lifetimes.

He told you about two hours ago that he had made a reservation at your favorite restaurant. He watched you through the open closet door. Your makeup was done, your hair was ready and you even had a pair of shoes set aside but Max had already seen you try on five different dresses.

He looked at the time on his watch – 09:01 P.M. If you don’t make it to the restaurant before nine thirty his reservation will be discarded and you’ll probably be seated at a terrible table, not the one he picked at the outside area of the place.

At this point, all Max wanted to do was walk into the closet and make you fall apart on his tongue and his cock until you regret making him wait so long. He couldn’t take any more of you wearing only see through panties and those fucking pantyhose as you looked for the next dress.

As he walked over to you, Max debated on skipping dinner and just having you to himself but he remembered why he was doing this anyway. You mentioned how you’ve been working over time and wanted to make a night that you’d remember.

“It’s nine, darling” his hand snaked around your waist, head resting on your shoulder.

“I know, Maxie, just haven’t found anything to wear”

He stared down at the arm wrapped around your waist – 9:05 P.M.

“Put on whatever, you’ll look good regardless” he kissed your neck and walked back out.

Max left the bedroom to refresh, he paced around the kitchen before pouring two glasses of water. He finished his water and even put the cup back before walking back to the room with yours. When he walked into the closet you had already taken off another dress.

“I didn’t even get to see that one on” he handed you the glass.

“It looked terrible, need to get rid of that one.”

“‘kay, you have fifteen more minutes. We need at least five to get there.”

He grabbed your empty glass and made his way back out. Max decided to stay outside to ease his anxiety away so he threw himself on the couch with a sigh before pulling out his phone to scroll mindlessly. As much as he tried keeping his mind on his phone it started to wander back to you. You in your pantyhose, you in his shirt last night, you in nothing this morning.

He was starting to lose it but with exactly ten minutes left on the clock he heard the bedroom door close. His head snapped back, chin settled on the couch’s backrest as he looked at you, smiley eyes twinkling in the dim light.

“‘M ready. Can you take my phone in your pocket?”

“Wow”

“Do you like it?”

He walked over to you, taking your hand in his and making you spin around for him. You chuckled at his actions, finally feeling pretty and comfortable in your outfit. He pushed you up against the closest wall and kissed you with need but you stopped him almost instantly, making him groan.

“Thought we were late” you teased ���now you have lipgloss on your mustache”

He looked down at you as you wiped his mouth with your thumb. The small red dress fits you perfectly, hugging your chest and snatching your waist before flowing more freely around your hips. Maybe a little too freely, Max thought, as a quick wind could make it flow higher than you’d wish. But you felt good and it was perfect for a summer night.

On the way to the restaurant all he could think about was how he would take that dress off the second you got home.

As you sat down at your table you started telling him how much you appreciated that he used his time off for a simple night like this with you. He wasn’t really paying attention and if you were being honest, you could tell. His eyes were shifting from your lips to your chest to your hair to your eyes but never hearing a word you were saying.

“Max!” you called, pulling him away from his daydreaming “I want the same as always, do you need the menu?”

“Huh? No, sorry”

He ordered for you both, including a red wine and turned back to you, face red with embarrassment.

“Shiraz?”

“What? It’s what you always have with this dish, no?”

“It’s probably the most aphrodisiac wine ever”

“Well, I didn’t know that. But I guess we’ll have a fun night then”

You would’ve teased him about you finally knowing more about something but Max was distracting you too. His beard was more present than normal and you had done his hair yourself, just the way you liked it. But what you stared the longest at were the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, and how his chest filled it.

You eventually caught each other starring and chuckled, quickly falling into daily banter. He had you feeling like a teenager with every small flirty comment about you. When the plates came you were both about to lose your minds. You were feeling hot all over, your feet running up and down his calves under the table.

“Stop teasing me”

“Finish up, we can skip dessert tonight”

Max ate as fast as he possibly could, almost choking from not chewing enough.

Max probably drove over the speed limit all the way back to his apartment but you were inside in less than ten minutes.

“Baby, slow down” you chuckled as he completely attacked your neck and jaw.

He had pressed you against the wall right next to the front door, his hands fisting your wrists above your head as his hips pressed against yours.

“Can’t” he muttered, “you made me wait so long. Just wanted to bend you over in your closet and fuck you so good”

“Maxie” you whined at his proposal.

“I know, love, c’mon, lemme make you feel good.” his hands traveled down to your thighs, pulling them up so he could pick you up and walk you to your room.

You giggled on your way in, his soft hair tickling you as he kissed down the straps of your dress. He placed you on the bed, legs dangling off the edge and kneeled down in front of you. Max reached for your shoes and started unbuckling them slowly.

“Max! Just pull them off.” you told him in a groan.

“You told me to slow down” he kissed your knee.

You rolled your eyes and waited as he pulled them off and smiled when he finally started kissing up your calf. You lifted your torso onto your elbows to look at him as his lips brushed against your skin through your stockings making you shiver. He kissed all the way up to your naked thighs, placing his head between them as he went under your skirt.

You chuckled again and bunched up your skirt around your waist to find his face buried between your legs, kissing closer and closer to your middle. Your hands ran through his sandy hair, messing it up before you tugged on it to make him look up.

“C'mon, Max”

He dragged his lips past your underwear and started leaving kisses up your stomach, biting the skin that covered your hip bones.

“Take this off” he told you and got up from his knees.

Max watched you unzip and take off your dress as he unbuttoned his own shirt and took off his shoes. His eyes caught how your tits were almost spilling out of the thin lace bra and how you shivered as the cold air hit your skin, your hairs going up and your nipples getting hard. He walked back over to you, standing between your knees as he looked down at you.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest?” he ran his big palm up your stomach right to your tits, folding the bra under them. “And look at these, fuck!”

He took one of your tits in his hand and bent over you to mouth at the other. He took everything he could into his mouth, making sure to swirl his tongue around your nipple. You arched your chest into him, running your fingers through the short hair on the back of his head.

“Maxie,” you whined, bucking your hips up to feel him growing against you, “please, need you so bad”

He listened to your pleas and popped your breast out of his mouth, starting to kiss down your sides and leaving a mark right on your ribs. His fingers hooked on the straps that connected the stockings to the garter around your waist and unsnapped them, freeing him to tug your underwear down your legs.

“You know what? I like the straps”

“Thought so” you teased as he snapped them back together and pulled away from you to see them.

Max got down on his knees again, this time throwing your legs over his shoulders to bring your cunt as close as possible to his face. The kisses he left to your thighs were loud and wet, making you squirm in anticipation. When he finally got to your cunt all he did was gently lick at your clit, slowly and barely applying any pressure. He felt you shiver under him as his tongue slowly worked harder against your core, applying more pressure with every small lick.

You pulled his head closer to your cunt, forcing him to dive in properly and push his tongue to your hole. You moaned when he circled it around the opening and took it right back to your clit. Max did love to drive you insane but he was done teasing so he finally took your clit between his lips and sucked on it. You pushed your hips to his face and he smiled, happy with the state he had gotten you to. He took his fingers up to your cunt and spread your wetness around before pushing them in, you clenched around them, feeling them pump in and out of you.

“Max, baby” you whined

“What is it, love?” he asked between kisses to the sides of your thighs “Tell me what you need”

“Just- don’t stop please, feels so good”

Your boyfriend took the encouragement and dived back into you, his lips and tongue working your clit relentlessly as his fingers started curling up inside you. It had been way too long since he last took care of you like this, you were way too sensitive as you felt it build up, a warm and agonizing feeling down your belly. It was too soon and it felt too strong but you couldn’t hold yourself back, the alcohol making you lose all control of your own body. You felt your orgasm take over you like a strong wave, your mind going completely blank as Max groaned onto your core, his fingers still working you all the way through it.

Moans left your mouth freely as you clenched and spasmed around him, your hips rocking back and forth onto his face and hand till they came to a stop. You finally looked down at Max, lifting yourself on your elbows to catch his face completely soaked in your squirt as he looked at you with a smile on his face.

“I missed this” he kissed anything he could reach, stomach, thighs, cunt, “you made a bit of a mess, though, think we’re gonna have to sleep in the guest room.” he chuckled.

“C’mere,” you reached for his arms and guided him to hold himself above you, “please, fuck me.”

“Anything you want, love”

He stood up and undid his belt and pants as you climbed up on the bed so your legs weren’t dangling anymore. Besides everything, the look Max had on his face translated into – mostly – tenderness, he was so in love with you, you were the only thing on his mind and all he wanted was to be close to you. He climbed on the bed, fully bare and positioned himself between your knees, his hard cock brushing against your wet folds made you moan.

“So sensitive, huh?”

You just nodded, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to try to contain any other sound that threatened to spill from your throat. He rested his cock on your stomach for a second, loving to see the comparison of size, before lowering himself to kiss the skin behind your ear. It was one of your biggest soft spots and Max knew it well, making you let out a suppressed moan past your lips. He then went down to mouth at your clavicles as he drove himself into you. Then you couldn’t even try to suppress the moan, it came from deep in your chest, loud, desperate, even. Your eyes screw shut and your nails dug into the skin of his arms and back.

“Look at me,” he asked, “so beautiful, schat. I love you so much, fuck. Gripping me so good”

You just threw your head back, completely lost in pleasure as he slowly dragged in and out of you. His hips moved as slow as he possibly could, watching the way your face curled in pleasure and desperation. It wasn’t like he could go faster, really, you were still adjusting to his girth and he could barely pull out from how tightly you clenched around him.

But when you finally molded around him, allowing space for him to move, he started going at it, thrusting so deep you could see your uterus move on your lower stomach. Despite the ‘roughness’ of his thrusts, Max kissed you soft and gently, a hand caressing your hair as the other lifted your leg up to give you a better angle of his cock, it was all about balance.

“Baby,” you called “let me ride you”

You heard a slow sigh of ‘fuck’ leave his lips before he pulled out to sit against the headboard. You threw your leg over his to straddle him and lifted yourself up only to sink onto his cock again. You both groaned as he filled you up and you reached for his face, his beard scratching your palms as you pulled him closer for a kiss.

“Missed you, missed your cock”

“I missed you too, darling, everyday”

You kissed him again as you started to move back and forth, slowly dragging your clit on his lower stomach. Max’s hands were on your hips guiding your movements as he took a tit into his mouth, licking and sucking at it, at that point your chest was covered in his spit. You felt so much closer to him like that, feeling his chest press to your stomach as you hugged his face to your breasts.

Max started guiding you faster, his own hips moving slightly to match yours. His lips left your boob to kiss at your neck and one of his hands moved down between your bodies, circling your clit with the pad of his fingers. And there it was again, your stomach tightening as you clenched around him.

“Close, schat?” he whispered

You could only whine and hum a positive sound as he rocked you harder on him. You grabbed his face with both hands, bringing him into another kiss. Your tongues were sliding against each other’s as you came around him. Max shot his cum inside you immediately, bringing your hips to a smaller movement so you could ride out both of your orgasms.

“If you don’t stop i’m gonna need another one” you told him after resting your head on his shoulder, his hands finally stopped moving your hips.

“Sorry, darling.”

He left a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the spot below your ear, small pecks that made you shiver. Max rested back against the pillows with you on top of him, taking a somewhat comfortable sleeping position without disconnecting you.

“I love you so much, darling”

[strwberri-milk]

hi! I love ur works they're all so sweet☹️ i was wondering if i could maybe request the l&ds men with a reader who has a constant tummy ache😔 i wake up, tummy ache, on my period, tummy ache, i try to sleep, tummy ache. it's a constant pain💔💔

anyways thank you so much and have a wonderful day🩷🩷🩷

lowkey stomachaches are so uncomfortable :(( same w headaches for me i say as though thats not the whole reason why theyre called aches

Zayne is immediately on you to try and figure out if there's something else going on that is leading to the fact that you have chronic stomachaches. His brain doesn't really turn off when it comes to doing things for your health so he can't really help but try to solve you problem.

Regardless, he's very good at giving you things to soothe your stomach, figuring out what sorts of things he can give you to help settle it. If you just want his presence, you got it but not without also drinking something or eating something easy to digest to make sure you at least get some nutrients that also help you feel better.

Xavier strikes me as the kind of person who doesn't really suffer from aches and pains or if he does he just totally ignores them so he's not sure what to do. He'll ask if you want medicine or some sort of tea he heard helps settle an upset stomach. He'll ask periodically if you're feeling better and tends to get you foods that he knows you can stomach because he doesn't want to accidentally make things worth.

Rafayel will practically be holding you even more than usual, palm over your stomach as he lightly uses his evol to act as a heating pad. He'll also massage your stomach absentmindedly, paying attention to your reactions to ensure that he doesn't accidentally make things too warm, or too rough. He'll also learn how to cook better meals for you if needed, wanting to feed you and shower you with attention to help you feel better.

Sylus also keeps his hand over your stomach, cooing at you gently whenever it gets really bad and asking what things you want. He'll spoil you with attention and treats - literally anything you want, he has it but amplified to 10 because he hates knowing that you're hurting and he can't do anything about it. He'll check in on you often, asking if you're feeling better or if there's anything else he could do to besides dote on you.

[writtingsomestuff]

Can the hate towards Lando stop? Honestly, it's ridiculous at this point. Like I don't get it, don't you guys have a life or something to do in general? I am involved in social media but I don't dedicate my time to hate on a driver.

Lando, especially Lando, has been open about mental health and I think that we all know how much he suffers from it and regardless of this he still gets hate.

First of all, the "famous" line on Max's luck was taken out of context and I blame this on both journalism and fans who like to take everything out of context for the sake of... drama? I don't know what for but I surely don't get the reason.

Second of all, going to his Instagram profile and literal ruin his last post with a high percentage of hate comments is pathetic from you because it shows your immaturity, but the worst part is how aware he is of it- like he reads them. And it gets even worse when he is being sent de@th threats. People who are hating on him openly need psychological attention rn.

He may not be your type of driver, you may not even like him, I also don't like certain famous people or other F1 drivers but I simply ignore them (try it. it's much healthier). If you don't like Norris then ignore him, don't go to his socials, don't send hate because what's the point? showing how awful of a person are you?

And lastly, the worst part is that probably the people who are hating on him are probably the same people who publish and speak up about mental health's importance until it is Lando Norris I guess. Also, don't get me wrong, I want and I think that Max will win his fourth, but Lando was not fighting for the wdc since the beginning either, so...

Enjoy the sport, ignore who you don't like and don't be a poisonous person.

[crimsoncandy04]

Halloween offer. Scaramouche in a costume: ulona, ​​Scream, Vampire any to your taste. Wants to kill us trying to find us in a big house where they threw a party. 🎃

Posts have been slow today and I'm sorry for making you and everyone wait.

(it was my laundry day ☺️ it took a bit but now I can write in clean/lavender scented sheets. Plus my favorite blankie is soft again 🥰❤️)

So here is your request.

(Albeit a bit behind schedule) ( please forgive me 🥺😖)

Jealousy was a nasty emotion. An unsightly feeling that made any respectable human look stupid and deranged. At least that's what Scaramouche had originally believed before he discovered that a certain brother of his had done the unthinkable. No. The unforgivable.

Kabukimono KNEW that Scara liked you. And yet he STILL accepted your confession and started dating you.

He didn't even attend the same university as you and still just believed he could have you when CLEARLY Scaramouche would have been the more convenient pick! It's not that they looked any different anyways...Scara could EASILY act more whiny and insufferable if he needed to, since you APPARENTLY had a type.

The audacity of the little pipsqueak.

He wouldn't let this betrayal slide.

No.

Kabukimono would pay.

YOU would pay.

And so Scara quickly began to set everything up for his revenge plan.

Getting rid of his triplet brother would be the hardest part. But he decided that it would be easiest to frame his end as a tragic accident.

Adding something he was allergic to in his food would be easiest. Especially if he hid it well and convinced kabukimono to eat after he took his medicine.

The police would see that he was already under the effects of sleeping medication. And conclude that in his dreary mental state, he must've accidentally eaten something that was deadly to him and rule his death as an accident.

It was perfect.

However, just before Scaramouche pulled it off, fucking WANDERER nearly messed it up completely by asking Scaramouche why he offered to make dinner and clearly added something to the pot that Kabu couldn't have.

He brushed it off as a mistake and assured his other kin that he would make something else but as soon as Wanderer left, Scaramouche went back to scheming.

He knew he succeeded when he got a call from the local hospital with Wanderer on the other end screaming his head off about Scaramouche being a piece of shit and accusing him of purposely harming their baby brother.

Scara just hung up.

That little shit had it coming.

But now his attention was back on you.

Beautiful, funny, charming... STUPID...you.

No. He had to remain strong.

You were clearly in the wrong. How could you not have seen the way he looked at you? The way he'd leave little gifts on your desk? The way he'd always drop EVERYTHING to spend time with you if you just as much as mentioned that you were lonely.

You did this on purpose just to fuck with him huh?

You'd regret that.

One of the most popular men on campus (Aether) had recently announced that he was going to throw a huge Halloween party at his house. Everyone who wanted to come could as he and his sister (Lumine) were well regarded for their kindness and easy going attitudes socially. Therefore the event wasn't exclusive and they made it clear that everyone going was to just have fun and have a few drinks regardless of anything going on in their lives outside.

This opportunity couldn't be better for Scara. He relished in the idea of being handed such a perfect chance to get you alone practically on a silver platter.

Now he just needed a fucking costume.

A day had passed since the party announcement and eventually Scaramouche found the time to shop for a costume. A typical store bought vampire outfit. Nothing special, he didn't plan on staying honestly. Just wanted to get you and then leave. There was no need for an elaborate or expensive costume.

However once Scaramouche arrived at the party, he realized that finding you might be more of an issue than he originally considered.

Aether and Lumine clearly came from a well off family to put it simply. Their home was nothing short of an old money mansion that had more square feet to it than the number of citizens in the town. And as Scaramouche crept inside the painted giant oak doors along with the rest of the crowd, his eyes widened in sheer disbelief as he took in the giant foyer and circular iron staircase as well as the high ceilings and marble floors.

Where the hell were you in this absolutely unnecessary amount of likely inherited living space?

Scaramouche slowly made his way through the crowd of guests and made it upstairs safely. Pausing to look below only once as his heart practically stopped.

Wanderer had just entered.

He wasn't dressed up either and he had his phone out which meant only one thing.

He was looking for Scara.

Quickly Scaramouche fled from the stairs to the upstairs hall. A long corridor with six doors lining the walls in total. He could hear voices and the muffled sounds of people fucking, however as he crept closer to the end of the hallway, he managed to catch your voice finally.

However it was coming from the stairs.

Fuck.

Scaramouche crept back towards the top. Careful to not make much of a scene as he tried to blend in with everyone else he passed and appear nonchalant.

What were you wearing?

He heard you laughing then. Sharply turning his head to face the group of people that were drinking and chatting near the railing. However he couldn't spot which one was you. He saw two men dressed as a cartoon character and an actual banana. The rest of the group consisted of 5 women. Three were wearing generic witch costumes while the other two were some kind of robot and a maid.

Scaramouche tried peering at their faces but was quickly given a look and was forced to look away. Not that he had had much time anyway as he glimpsed Wanderer coming up the steps too.

Scara hurried away.

He guessed you were probably one of the witch girls he didn't see very closely and ducked into a closet nearby to wait out Wanderer while also spying on you and your two friends.

You sounded drunk. But oddly enough it was almost cute to him. The way you laughed at stupid things and sang along to the music playing downstairs. Going as far as to poorly mimic the sound of the instruments with your own voice as you gave little care to your surroundings.

Eventually you wandered off. And so did Scara's brother thankfully.

He tried to trail you now. The knife he had brought still safely tucked into his pocket as he struggled to guess which room you were in now.

Scaramouche couldn't wait to make you pay for playing with his emotions like you did. Just the idea of seeing your pretty face contorted with fear as you struggled to move underneath him while he pinned you down. He could just hear the sounds of your adorable shrieks of pain and terror as he plunged the blade into your chest. The satisfaction he would feel, knowing that HE had been the last face you saw. The last man that would be in your mind as your eyes dulled and your body slowly bled out beneath him.

Finally you would know how he felt when he saw you with his brother at that stupid park that day.

The suffering he had been put through. The pain in his chest that YOU had inflicted upon him.

Scaramouche crept into the first empty room. Nothing. Just some random girl that lay passed out on the floor. Some other girl was clearly high as she sat on the bed staring at the ceiling blankly.

He shut the door angrily.

He heard you talking again.

The end. She's near the end of the hallway.

However before Scaramouche could head that way, he glimpsed a blue and white hoodie out of the corner of his eye and immediately ducked back into the room he had just left as Wanderer passed by the door and greeted you as you spotted him.

"Wawan! You came! Wait where's Kabu? Is he busy or something? I really needed to see him today."

"he's fine. He just had a really bad allergy attack yesterday. He's at home resting now. By the way, have you seen Scaramouche anywhere? I need to discuss something with him but I can't find him."

"no. I haven't. I thought he didn't like parties so I didn't bother looking for him."

"don't worry about it then. It's no big deal anyway. Just text me if you do see him. Have fun Y/N. I'll see you next week."

Finally he left after that.

Scaramouche quickly made his move.

However you were fucking gone AGAIN by the time he got to the end of the hall and picked the lock on the furthest door.

Swearing to himself and turning back around, he spotted your hat above the crowd and quickly stalked after you as you went back downstairs.

Several people were suspicious of him now as he had done nothing but creep around and hide since he had arrived and as he followed you into the kitchen, more heads turned his way.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This was NOT as easy as he thought it would be.

Scaramouche quickly put on a fake smile as he pretended to be grabbing some pizza and ate it in the corner as he kept his eyes glued on you.

Your long dark hair fell over your plump ass in the most sensual way in his opinion. Your smooth skin glistened in the harsh bright lights. The way your soft voice sounded so breathy and kind even now as you slurred your words and tried to hug someone only to spill your drink on yourself.

Your thin black dress clung to your hips and emphasized your full figure beautifully as you struggled to wipe off the excess beverage from your chest with a napkin someone handed you.

Gods how Scaramouche could just feel his cock harden in his pants at the thought of being able to yank down that tight dress and expose your fat tits to him as he leaned down and gently bit one of your nipples between his teeth.

But no. He couldn't. You didn't want him.

You wanted his lousy and probably terrible lay of a brother instead.

Scaramouche struggled to understand what you even saw in that brat as he followed you out the back of the kitchen and through the small hallway behind it. You were heading for the bathroom at the end and he knew it was now or never.

If Scaramouche couldn't have you.

No one would.

You stumbled through the door just as he lunged in after you. Quickly shutting it and locking you both inside.

You had no idea what was going on.

"oh Scara! I thought you were at home with your brothers. Sorry I really need to pee. Can you wait outside for your turn in the bathroom? I don't feel comfortable with you while I'm here too.

Suddenly Scaramouche grabbed you by your shoulders and flipped you around. Pinning you against the bathroom wall as he swiftly pulled out his knife and held it to your throat.

"I'll bet you would be just fine if I were Kabukimono though hmm? You'd let HIM be in here with you wouldn't you?"

Scaramouche's hand shook as he pressed the blade into your tender flesh. A thin crimson line forming as he continued.

"so did you have your fun? Did you and him just LAUGH it up as you joked about how PATHETIC I must've looked trying so hard to get your attention for so long?"

"S-Scara... please you don't understand! We're not together!" You pleaded.

He just rolled his eyes.

"yeah right. I SAW you two meet up after evening class last month. DON'T fucking lie to me bitch."

"I'm not lying! Check my phone if you don't believe me!"

Scaramouche paused. Inching the blade away from your neck just a little.

"what? What do you mean?"

"just look. I didn't know how else to try and talk to you. So I befriended Kabu in hopes that he'd help me figure out how to spend more time with you." Your voice trembled. You shook physically as Scaramouche felt his entire inside grow cold.

No way.

He pulled your phone from your purse and easily unlocked it. Scrolling through your messages. His entire face went blank.

Shit.

He fucked up.

BEYOND fucked up.

You suddenly began to cry.

"please don't kill me! I didn't mean to make you mad! I thought you hated me because we never talked! Please just let me leave! I wanna go home!"

Scaramouche's heart raced.

No no.

This was bad.

You'd NEVER talk to him again after this.

You'd probably even call the police.

Wanderer would hear the story and put two and two together as to what happened to Kabukimono.

He'd absolutely beat the shit out of him and that was if Scaramouche DIDN'T get the shit beat out of him in prison first for two counts of attempted murder!

He knew he was fucked.

And so he gave in to the thoughts in his head.

"I'll let you go. But first..."

Scaramouche pulled you back against him as he continued to hold the knife to your throat. His free hand grasped your boob as he leaned in and gently nibbled the side of your neck.

"If I never get the chance to touch you after this, I want to enjoy myself tonight."

Using his blade, Scaramouche then brought the weapon downward and cut open the front of your dress. Your nipples grew hard as the cool air hit them. Your pussy getting wet despite the circumstances.

You tried to push Scara away from you but he clung on tightly. His entire arm wrapped around your waist as he pushed you towards the floor. Once down, he slapped your ass HARD as he pulled down the back of your dress next and exposed more of you to his predatory gaze.

His eyes linger on your curves as you feel his hand carefully trace the outline of your sex through the fabric of your panties. Cupping your pussy as he pulled your hair aside and kissed your neck again. Leaving a small trail down your back as his lips stopped on your ass cheek. He then gave it another slap before suddenly cutting away your underwear too.

Your glistening sex was a sight to behold. So wet and plump. So warm and inviting. Scaramouche couldn't help but give your lower lips a little lick as he dug his hands into your hips and pulled you against his face.

"Scara~" you whine. His tongue is deep inside of you then. He doesn't stop.

He laps at your delicate inner walls greedily even as you writhe on the floor. Your drunk body doing very little as you slump against the bathroom tile. The pleasure being too much for you in your current mental state.

You hear him sigh and moan a little against your cunt as he gives some attention to your clit next. Licking in a small circular motion as he makes your legs shake. Only stopping when you cry out and your juices squirt into his mouth.

Scaramouche swallows every drop hungrily as sits up and then flips you finally. Settling between your thighs as he frees his cock and teases your opening with the head.

"Scara you can't...I could get pregnant ~" you moan. Your words simply go in one ear and out the other as he slides into you roughly.

"good. If you do, everyone will know who this pussy belongs to and no one will DARE take you from me. Besides..." He picks up the pace. Yanking your knees up further as he fucks deeper into you.

"I think you'd look so cute all swollen with my child." He places a hand on your lower abdomen as he begins to go even faster now. His climax quickly approaching.

You moan and gasp as he hits your sweet spots repeatedly. Causing your lower body to tighten as you feel yourself cumming again. This time alongside Scara.

He takes a few deep breaths before slowly pulling out of you. Your body limp from the assault as you lay completely spent on the floor before him.

Fuck.

There was no coming back from this.

Scaramouche pulled out his phone and shot Wanderer a quick text. Telling him everything before tossing it over his shoulder and going back to focusing on you.

You were clearly still intoxicated. But your face was glowing as the aftermath of your orgasm still has you relaxed and tired. Scaramouche knew he'd be in deep shit for this. All of this.

But he still had one plan in mind.

He slid himself back into your tight heat and began to thrust into you once more. Your soft moans already driving him wild. And this would just be the beginning.

Before the night was over either Wanderer or the police would arrive for him. Or maybe both. But that didn't matter anymore.

Scaramouche still had a good 45 minutes with you before anyone would find you both.

That was plenty of time to ensure that at least when he was behind bars, that you and your body would be forever marked by him.

And that he'd have a new son or daughter waiting for him upon his release.

[of-nyon]

Fuck it. Moar.

“– the most expensive frame we've ever fitted, we have the paperwork to prove it, all the financials printed and signed, and he absconded with his debt unpaid –”

Well, you couldn't have spent that much on materials, given how small he is, Prowl thought. Absently, he drummed his fingers on his desk in a habit he knew he had picked up from Jazz, a mech who, in Prowl's experience, could only sit still if his life depended on it and even then his chances were middling at best.

On the holoscreen, sat comfortably in an opulent office a few megamiles away in Nyon, was the Head Curator of Sanctuary House, the last registered place of work of Rodimus Prime, né Hot Rod. The new Prime was still holed up in the apartment he'd initially fled to, the Primal Vanguard keeping careful watch of any comings and goings in the building and the immediate surrounding area. Curiously, his previous employer had requested a meeting specifically not with Optimus, but 'whoever else comes after him that's dealing with this whole situation.'

“Are you asking,” Prowl interrupted, his time with Optimus and Jazz having loosened him to where thoughts that he would before have kept to himself now, occasionally, when warranted, freely left his mouth, “for the Matrix-chosen Prime to be returned to you? To work?”

“W-well,” the mech's plating ruffled, withering under Prowl's unimpressed gaze. There was paperwork. There was always paperwork. And this fool was wasting his time. “The expenses, you understand, and he was one of our most requested models, we took a real hit in revenue when he left – left! It's an outrage!”

Hot Rod was young, but he was older than Optimus' ascension and subsequent reforms, born into the last throes of Functionism, ultimately under the thumb of a mech Prowl had immediately disliked the moment the holoscreen switched on.

“Send us your invoice,” Prowl said flatly. “We will cover any debts he accrued.”

“But the lost revenue –” Also couldn't be too much, at this point. Hot Rod had only left Nyon an estimated decaorn ago. They hadn't even submitted a missing mech report. Prowl had checked; nothing on the servers in the precinct at Nyon came up with his name except an old loitering arrest that, thankfully, hadn't yet made its way to the press. Prowl had quietly redacted and classified it while he'd been in the system.

“If your charges are deemed fair, we will pay it. Good day.” He switched the holoscreen off and reached out for a datapad in the same movement. Applications for the Primal Vanguard, currently recruiting to bolster their numbers given current events. He carefully evaluated each one, sending any approved to Ironhide and providing feedback to any rejected mechs, of which there were many. He did pay attention to younger mechs than he might have otherwise; a cohort of mechs closer to the Prime's age would be, overall, positive, given supervision and training by the older staff. After making it through half the stack, he checked in on Jazz again.

:Any updates?:

:Hi to you too, Prowler.: Jazz sounded chipper, although he usually did regardless of how well he was actually feeling. He would probably insist that he was fine even if he was bleeding out in front of Prowl's optics. Prowl blinked the thought away. He didn't need that imagery, or for the tac net to latch onto the scenario and start crunching numbers.

:He's up. We've, uh, been ignoring the news and whatever the infranet's melting down into. Some of his old pals in Nyon've commed him, seemed all right with it. Sounds like the festivals there are nuts right now. Been teaching him some beginner's electrobass, pretty fast learner I gotta say, and some basic lockpicking, though it turns out he already knew some o' that. My kinda mech. Likes copper flakes in his energon. Didn't have a clue what I was talkin' about when I tried to talk music, though. We have got to get this mech to a concert, stat. What are they teachin' 'em in Nyon?.:

:In his case?: Prowl replied, letting the words wash over him and picking out any actual information. Copper flakes; a message to the kitchens was quickly sent. :How to pleasure clients, most likely.:

:Ouch, you don't gotta come out an' say it like that.: Prowl could hear his wince. :They're sayin' some real gross stuff about him online.:

More damage control: mechs anonymously boasting that they had had his services before (unlikely, given the amount of claims) or fantasising about it in lurid detail.

:Guess they said gross stuff about OP too, but I dunno, he ain't even had his adult upgrades yet, he's old enough but they cheaped out on him.: Something to note for when Sanctuary House sent their invoice through, if they tried charging for it. And a message to Ratchet and his staff. Prowl received a quick, curt 'accepted' ping for that one; he could imagine the expression on the grouchy medic's face upon finding out that information.

:But hey, if we get the Matrix to him, all good, right? Free upgrade!: Yes, they would need to check in with Ratchet on whether it was preferable for Hot Rod to receive his adult upgrades first, or to let the Matrix reformat him to its pleasing and then deal with the aftermath as it came.

internet went out yesterday so I missed most of Tumblr Halloween which is bullshit. Have a new wip in lieu of boops.

The first Holy Act of Rodimus Prime, True-Chosen, warm white light still spilling off his frame, was to bolt.

He hadn't even come here for the Matrix! He'd come for the crowd, pushing and straining against each other for so much as a glimpse of the ancient artifact, and certainly not paying attention to someone slipping a hand into their subspace to grab whatever he could.

Hot Rod ran, ignoring the “Hey, wait!” from the guard who'd waved him through earlier. Optimus Prime apparently meant it; sure, the rich folk still got the top spots, same as always, but they'd let through a lowlife street mech like Hot Rod without him needing to sweet-talk them. He polished up good, when he had the means and the funds and the energy, and he'd put effort into tonight's look in hope it'd get him past the guards.

All for nothing, as he dropped into alt mode and sped out, tires screeching over someone's panicked 'Sir!'. The grand staircase was coming up fast, and someone – not him – yelled as he cleared the thing in one go without slowing down, enough momentum going that he was still going forward on his front tires as the rest of his frame crashed down to the priceless marbled floor. People screamed and scrambled out of his way, the big doors thrown wide open for all of Cybertron to come and view the Matrix, but the crowd outside was too much. He flipped back into root mode, experience helping him wrest himself through tight gaps. The groups of incoming mechs didn't have the news yet, so no-one tried to stop him as he fought through the press of bodies – at least anyone chasing him would also have to contend with -

There was a screeching of sirens behind him. That had the crowd's attention, and Hot Rod didn't dare look back as he finally passed under the main palatial gate, a strange shudder running through his frame as he took to his alt again now he was out on the streets. The white light had bled off, at least. Sure, it wasn't illegal to be chosen by the Matrix, probably, that was why Prime had set this whole thing up in the first place, but it was definitely illegal to have a subspace full of stuff he really needed to sell if he wanted to fuel any time soon.

The sirens pursued. If this was Nyon, he thought, taking a corner so hard he skidded on two tires before coming back down on four, he would already be down any number of boltholes, slag, he could probably hide in the Temple itself, there was a way to get up into the rafters no-one else knew. But Iacon was different - wide, expensive streets, no cover, no friends. Well-to-do-mecha – or, more likely, their gardeners – blinked at him as he sped past. Delicate crystals chimed in his ferocious wake, mingling with the sirens.

Slag, slag, slag. They were maybe a corner away. They always chased a running mech. He took back to root again, coming up jogging, slowing down to maybe not look as guilty and they'd think they were chasing some other guy, desperately trying to find the way out of this mess. He'd never been -

“Psst, kid!”

His head snapped up. An arm was waving out of the window of one of the expensive houses, one floor up.

“See that drainpipe? If you kick off that windowsill you can shimmy up and – yeah, you got it!”

Hot Rod didn't stop to think, just lunged at the offered way out. No-one 'psst, kid!'-ing him ever did it because they were in with the cops, and he took the matte black hand that helped him through the window easily.

“Whew!” His saviour said as he tumbled through, realising at the last moment to duck his head as the sirens wailed past not a moment later. “Close call, eh?”

“Thanks,” Hot Rod gasped, vents billowing, then he stilled. The sirens had stopped.

“Ooh, I bet I know who that is,” the mech, a little civilian car with a burning blue visor, went over to lean over Hot Rod and yell out the window: “Yo! Prowl!”

“Jazz,” the Enforcer's voice floated up, sounding prim and proper and not nearly like he'd been gunning flat-out after a racer. “Is that smoke? Are you on fire? Do you need assistance?”

“Eh?” Jazz wafted away the billowing hot air coming off Hot Rod's trembling frame. “Nah, nah, 's this new effect we're coming up with for the next show, real cool, real hot, I mean. Just giving her a test run. You get your guy?” He was leaning conversationally on the windowsill now, Hot Rod trapped between his legs and the wall.

“He appears,” Prowl's disembodied voice said, “to have vanished in the middle of the street, right outside your window.”

“Wow,” Jazz replied, one foot tapping out a restless beat next to Hot Rod's knee. “That's crazy.”

“He's not in trouble,” Prowl continued. “With the Palace. If you see a red and yellow speedframe, likely forged racer, wide yellow spoiler-wings, flame decals, possible – possible Nyonian origin, please let me know immediately. Once the footage starts circulating, people will start recognizing him, and we need to ensure his safety above all else.”

“Huh. All right.” Jazz switched feet on a beat only he could hear. “What footage are we talkin' about?”

---

“Wow, mech, you are in it,” Jazz whistled, low and melodious and impressed. Hot Rod buried his head in his hands. By the time he'd been scrambling through Jazz's window the news and infranet had set on fire with the tale of a new Prime, with the recordings to prove it to the doubtful. Headline after headline, post after post, a whole slew of fun new conspiracy theories springing up around him. The press had very quickly identified him, the registration document at the Nyonian hot spot of his spark, name, and function splashed across screens the planet over.

Hot Rod, Entertainer.

From there it would be a short skip to the House that had picked up and framed his spark and raised him for the legally-mandated timeframe of three orns before he was put to work.

“Yanno,” Jazz said, “Prowler did say you weren't in trouble. Like, he knows you're here, just figures you're safe with me for the time being. That mech don't lie.” A pause. “Well, he does when the numbers line up, but not about this, I think. He really doesn't want you to go get yourself slagged, is what I'm saying.”

Hot Rod lifted his head up, twin points of blue optics burning through the gaps in his fingers.

“I'm just sayin',” Jazz repeated, holding his hands palm-up in a gesture of truce. “Anyway, lemme treat you while you're with me, mech. You gunned it down here, I bet you could do with some fuel.”

---

Jazz was sat on the couch with one leg crossed over so his foot rested on his knee, idly strumming his electrobass, picking out low notes while Hot Rod was small enough to curl up a cushion over. He'd slipped into recharge some time ago, no problem, mech'd had a busy day.

:Jazz.: His comm crackled to life. :How is he?:

Jazz glanced over at his new charge before (quietly) plucking out a dramatic strum he associated with Prowl's appearance on the scene. If you were friends with Jazz for long enough, sooner or later you got a leitmotif assigned to you. More than one, if he really liked you. Prowl had the record, with four to his name.

:Doin all right, I think. Got some fuel in him, an' he's sleepin now. Cute kid. He really the new Prime?:

:The evidence is irrefutable.:

:Dang. Been kept busy, then?:

:You do not know the half of it.: Prowl sighed through the comm. :Please keep an optic on him, he's safe where he is right now while we deal with the fallout. We'll reimburse any expenses.:

:No problem, no problem.:

:And...if all goes well and he does take up the Primacy, and even if he doesn't, there is a reasonable chance your apartment will become a sacred pilgrimage site.: Jazz laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it, even knowing Prowl was as dead serious as he was with just about anything else in his life. :Optimus is more than happy to offer quarters in the Palace. I know your contract with Mellow is ending soon. We can bring you on-:

:What, as official good taste in music-haver?: Jazz asked, amused. And Prowl was right; Mellow liked to commission artists, pay for anything and everything they needed, then forget about it for a few decacycles until the contract was up and he got to see whatever it was you'd put together over that time. The mech had been on a night out with friends, scouting out his next big hit, Jazz had scored a gig as a temporary replacement bass player, and then was all but chased down by the guy after the show. And who would say no to what he was offering?

:If you'd like,: Prowl continued. Jazz had some idea that they were poking into Mellow's business, but that was no business of his, long as he got paid. He hadn't been interviewed about it, but Prowl was eager to get him out of the apartment and kept offering him a place up at the Palace.

:You know what,: Jazz said, glancing over to the sleeping probably-a-Prime and testing out some higher notes he thought suited Hot Rod. :Sure. It'll be funny, if nothing else.:

[temsiik]

I haven't actually written any sort of story before, but I'm strongly considering starting to dip my toes into creating fanfiction. My current idea is, for some reason, a character introspection on Pinako Rockbell.

Don't know why I was inspired to write about a relatively minor character, and not the characters or pairing I'm actually obsessed with, but it is what it is.

(Ed x Winry will be mentioned though, as this story is after they marry, but it's about Pinako not them. But if this goes well I do want to try writing EdWin eventually, and really hoping to make something for 503 week next year too).

[jerreeeeeee]

i don’t know if i’m ever gonna write the fic but i’ve been thinking abt like. the eternal stockade. the implications. lup, a lich who was trapped in a dark featureless cell for a decade completely isolated with nothing to keep her sanity but her own mind. she has to put people in the eternal stockade. how many liches does she see herself in. how many liches started out just like her. how many liches are truly too far gone. and the only liches we ever see other than her and barry are edward and lydia. they’re certainly evil, but mad? they seem pretty sane. they’re not, like, tattered echoes of souls, they’re definitely still people. even as much of a grudge as lup surely has against them, wouldn’t they remind her incredibly strongly of herself? do they deserve to be trapped just like she was? for eternity? isn’t eternity what turned john to existential despair in the first place?

[stuckinapril]

I’ve always loved medicine bc it’s the perfect intersection of science and humanity—the two things I value above all else in this world. Truly adored it since I was in the cradle. But now I’m thinking about how so much of my journey to neurosurgery will have to involve KILLING my feelings essentially bc how do you survive otherwise

[lunarharp]

figured i'd do this again..bit early i guess..

[a-s-levynn]

@corviisquire You have no idea how much i love you for this creature design

Btw the gold parts and the tentacles are glossy and have a slight 3d effect, the scanner just can't pick it up

[guppygiggles]

.

[strwberri-milk]

Hi hope you're doing ok! I love your LADS works so much

My request is: how would zayne react to MC dressing up in a sexy nurse costume for Halloween, just to mess with him?

this may be a Controversial /lh take uhh

Zayne understands the concept of a sexy nurse. He thinks anything you wear is sexy, regardless of how much or how little it covers. He just is madly in love with you, so he's going to like you no matter what.

However, he spends so much time at work. He's already spent so many years getting to this point. He's seen the things patients can expel, has felt exhausted after doing 16 hour shifts, been subjected to too many freak accidents in which he's one of few surgeons skilled enough to perform surgery on especially unlucky individuals.

So, when he comes home and sees you in scrubs he's trying to figure out if he's having a fatigue induced hallucination or if you're announcing to him you're going into nursing school. It takes him an additional second to realise you are nowhere near dressed safely for the floor. You laugh a little at the way he's reacting, holding his face and telling him you just wanted to surprise him.

He runs his hand over your outift, trying to figure out if it's hot or not. He hasn't really fully decided, telling you you look good in anything, this costume included. You decide to spare the poor man his confusion by avoiding medical costumes from now on, deciding there are better ways to try and get his attention.

[spacedkey]

the eternal struggle of reading webcomics/manga/manh(w/u)a that i think are really good but have cringe ass titles so i can't recommend them without someone doubting my sensibilities and taste in stories

[butchlifeguard]

attention spans dont real lmao. nothing about the condition or support needs of yr adhd can be measured by measuring yr attention span because the nature of adhd is that attention span is incredibly variable. this is bc adhd is characterized by dopamine seeking behavior and not just a timer until we get bored and go on our phones