#yellow Lamborghini sports car

[motliez]

IG: @Motliez

[blueiscoool]

1969 Lamborghini Miura S by Bertone

[308ferrari]

[rivieiraa]

ig @ rivieiraa

[thinkingsmart]

Safe 🌻 18137 We tend to become the hings we think. 💫💛💫   https://ift.tt/0ryEtj4

[dragonblobz]

I haven't felt this inspired to write in actual YEARS. Is there anyone else here who likes Sunstreaker?

“This is gonna be GREAT. Vegas baby. Fucks sake.”

You spit the words like vitriol as you trudge along. The dry desert air seeming to suck the moisture from your mouth even as you curse.

You’ve always done everything right. You’ve always done what you’re told. Worked as hard as you could. Saved every penny. Hoping maybe to go back to college some day.

But then your world had crumbled around you. You got laid off. Diagnosed with diabetes. God but you miss those abominable soft sugar cookies with the icing you used to hate.

And you’re muttering this as you walk. Complaining simply because it makes you feel better. A bit of noise in the dry wind to keep you company as you trudge along the side of this seemingly endless desert highway.

You had a bit of a mental break. You can admit it. Life falls apart? Why not blow all of your carefully hoarded savings on a motorcycle for a solo trip to Vegas? Make a fortune?

“Blow the rest of my fuckn savings more like.” You mutter this before gagging and coughing up dusty phlegm.

You stop. Flex your shoulders. Reach into the bag slung over your shoulder to pull out your bottle of water and gaze at it longingly. Fiji brand. You remember seeing that big fat stupidly expensive bottle of water at the gas station miles ago. Thinking how stupid it was to pay almost 5 dollars for water. Buying it anyway because isn’t that the point? Throwing everything away? Living a little?

It's still completely sealed. And you’d gotten the big bottle. You watch droplets of condensation on the foggy bottle dribble down to moisten your fingers.

Better not. You’re thirsty but you’re certainly not dying. You tuck the bottle back into your bag and continue to walk. Cursing and continuing to mutter. Your fuckn EYEBALLS feel dry.

“Stupid fuckn Yamaha.” Another annoying dry cough.

The bike in question, Your shiny new, and by new of course you mean “gently” used, motorcycle is sitting on the side of the road miles behind you after refusing to start when you’d turned it off to step off the road to piss. You’d felt so FREE on it too……

“Fucking figures.” Why not? The rest of your life is shit after all.

You just keep trudging. It’s MILES to the next town. And nobody has driven past you. Hopefully if you just keep going, you’ll run into something…… SOMEWHERE…… by nightfall. You hadn’t bothered to study any of the landmarks or anything on g maps. Vegas or die trying you’d thought.

After a time, you just can’t mutter anymore. You’re just OVER it.

And that’s when you hear it……

A car engine. You’re no car person but you can still tell it’s a sports car. That whiny high pitched super horse power sound. The kind you can hear for miles before it actually reaches you. It’s coming from behind you. You’re on the highway shoulder.

You don’t bother to turn. Just keep trudging. Sticking your arm out with your thumb raised. Hitch hiking. Why not? It’s not like getting picked up by a stereotypical psycho is gonna be worse than anything else that’s happened to you in the past month. And you’re tired of walking. And the heat. Mostly the heat.

The car is going so fast that you stumble in the wind around it as it rips past you. It doesn’t  even slow down.  The screaming volume of it’s engine STILL making you jerk even tho you’re prepared for it. And you’re not even mad.

“I’m not a psycho I promise.” You whine. But you can’t blame them. You probably wouldn’t stop either.

The bright shocking yellow ass end of a tricked out Lamborghini grows distant along with the loud sound of it. There’s even a big engine jutting out.

“Famcyyyy.” You rasp. Asshole.

“Oh goddamnit.” You give up the ghost and crack open that Fiji.

Hours pass. The sun blasts down on you as it crosses it’s zenith. It’s windy but it’s almost WORSE because of it. Nobody else passes you.

When the wind dies away in the late afternoon, you audibly and verbally beg for its return. It feels like you’re in an actual oven.

“Fuckn christ….. Vegas or die I guess.” Another swig of the Fiji. You’re trying to conserve it. But half of it is gone. You have no idea if it’s possible to make out with water, but you intend to do just that the second you arrive at any human destination.

Suddenly, you hear it again. The growing unmistakable sound of a sports car. Coming towards you this time. You squint your dry ass eyeballs even as you jut your thumb out again.

It's shimmery and wavy and unreal at first. Like a mirage. But there’s no mistaking it. It’s a yellow Lamborghini.

“You gotta be fuckn kidding me……”

It’s the same Lamborghini too. There’s a big red weird symbol on its hood which you hadn’t seen the first time it’d passed you. But that big spoiler and that insane engine jutting out it’s ass end is unmistakable.

It's showing absolutely no sign of slowing. You know the dick head can see you. In their stupid air conditioned fancy ass interior.

“Hehe.”

You rotate your wrist. Flash the bastard a big fat throbbing bird as it blows past you. Middle finger standing proud.

“Fuk u. Hehe.”

Literally not even long enough for you to finish laughing at how stupid you are…… you hear the screaming of tires.

“Oh fuck…..”

Instinct takes over then. You burst into a run even as you hear the car’s engine roaring and more tire screaming. You know it’s turning around, and FAST, without looking.

“Shitshitshitshitshit.” Wheezing curses as you leave the road. You figure fancy pants isn’t gonna get out of their car to beat your ass if you make yourself inaccessible. It’s fuckn hot out here, after all.

You figure they’ve turned their car to just scare the shit out of you for flipping them off. And honestly it worked. You scramble up a hill then flop straight into a bramble of cactuses. Cacti?

“FACK!” It’s actually kinda funny. You’re laughing and gasping. Listening for the sound of the car driving off. Because of course it’s going to. Who’d drive their shiny ass Lambo off road?

This guy apparently……

“Oh….. FUCK…..” You can hear the spinning of sand and dust and the raging scream of a super tuned engine. You scramble out of the cactus blob and start running like the shit you are.

“FuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK….”

You can hear the sand. The engine. It sounds like the car is struggling to go on. But it IS getting closer.

“SHITFUCKSHITFUCKSHITFUCKSHIT….”

It’s gonna hit you. You know it is. You see another ridge. Jump over it the split second that that car would have hit you.

Right. Into. Another. Cactus blob. You’ve got prickly pears in every fuckn hole.

“God McFUCK JUST RUN OVER ME ALREADY….”

You scramble free, spitting thorns, as you hear the roaring engine of the Lamborghini turning to clear the small ridge you’ve jumped over.

“FUCK THIS. JUST. FUCK IT.”

You turn. Spitting and screaming. Standing your ground. You’re just DONE. I mean it’s not like they’re actually going to KILL you right? Right???

The Lamborghini crests thru the sand towards you, the stuff flowing away from it like the waking waves of a ship. You scream and clench your fists and plant your feet. It’s a good fuckn day to die. You raise both fists and flip the fucker off as it comes.

It halts about 10 feet from you, engine purring like a glorious tigress. You’re just standing there like an idiot. Twin birds raised.

It’s a timeless moment. The Lambo purring as the dust settles around it. You gasping and flipping it off two fisted, suddenly glad it’s too dry for your body to be able to make piss for your pants.

Just that one moment, before it’s engine roars and it jerks forward. Stopping about three feet from you. You scream.

“FACKFACKFACK…”

Another roar. The bumper just slightly taps at your knees.

“FACKYOUFACKYOUFACKYOUFACKYOU…”

You start slapping it’s hood with both hands. Like some kind of idiot.

“FACK YOU!” slap “FACK YOUR MOM!” slap “FACK FACK!” slap slap

It stills then. Completely still. You hear the engine cut. The silence is deafening. You’re frozen too and wheezing. Out of breath.

There’s so much dust in the air. You cough and splutter and wheeze. Think about your stupid expensive Fiji for an innate moment. But the car is off and nothing is happening.

You just stand there. And stand. Breath slowing and calming. And the Lambo just sits in silence. The driver apparently happy to just watch you shit yourself. Dust settling.

You squint your eyes. Wanting to get a good look at the driver before you flip them off again. The windows are tinted so dark. You can’t see shit.

The silence continues for so long. Dust settled. Are they dead or something??

Without warning, the passenger door pops open. Super fancy. Gliding up and over the car. Like a wing.

You just stare. There is nothing but silence coming from that open door. Do they want you to get in??

You’re shaking, hating yourself for it. But you step around the car. Lean over to peer inside. The absolute FUCK if you’re getting into this psycho’s car. But you want to see who the hell just had the balls to scare the shit down your pant legs.

There is….. nothing….. no one…..

Suddenly you’re actually AFRAID.

There is no driver. That seat is absolutely empty. You’re not familiar with the interior layout of Lamborghinis, but that’s it. Two seats. A steering wheel. No keys. No key port. No gear shift.

“What the hell……”

“Fragger……. Get in already…..”

You jerk at the sound. It’s not coming from the speakers. You don’t care HOW good the sound system of a Lambo might be. It’s coming from the CAR.

It's a ghost car. Of course it is. You’re dehydrated and nuts and your life is coming apart at the seams. Why WOULDN’T you run into a ghost car?

“Christine???” Your voice is a pathetic little wheeze. That Stephen King story reverberating in your stupid dumb memory.

“What?? I WILL leave you, human. Get. In.”

You know what? Fuck it. You don’t want to walk anyway right? Your life is over anyway. And this is WAY cooler than a diabetic coma.

You slide in. The car is so low. The plush soft leather of the seats feels cool and inviting.

The door slowly glides down until you’re voluntarily trapped inside this ghost car. You feel around yourself for a seat belt. There is none.

“Stop touching me. Where were you heading?”

“Vegas.” It’s a dry croak from you.

You feel and hear the engine roaring to life. Surprisingly quiet here inside this car.

“I can’t believe you had the nerve to hit me.” Still not from the speakers. You don’t SEE any speakers. The entire CAR is speaking to you.

You don’t answer. Just sit there dumbly. Watching the scenery around you thru the Lambo’s tinted windows as the car trundles back to the highway and the desert becomes a blur around you as the engine roars.

You’ve never gone this fast in your entire life.

[kod-lyoko]

hc that dennis was really into sports cars when he was in middle school and that barbara endorsed it bc sports cars are for rich people and also that's when he fell in love with a yellow lamborghini countach 5000

[robinfrinjs]

📸 Frédéric Le Floc'h / DPPI

24H Le Mans Test Day Report

The day was divided into two sessions, both 3 hours in length. There were a few drivers missing part of (or all of) testing with IndyCar, DTM, Formula 1 and Porsche races taking place the same weekend.

All IndyCar drivers missed all of the testing. Drivers missing testing are supposed to pay some form of a fine, but anyone competing in IndyCar is exempt from that.

Because of teams missing some drivers, several teams opted to choose some reserve drivers for the test. Teams are allowed to put a maximum of 5 drivers on the entry list. Not all drivers ran in the cars they were assigned to.

Session 1

Toyota's Kamui Kobayashi finished the session on top in the #7 car with a 3:28.467, already beating the fastest testing time last year by 2 seconds. Kevin Estre was 2nd in the #6 Porsche with a 3:29.270 and Robin Frijns was third in the #20 BMW with a 3:29.433

In LMP2 Job van Uitert was fastest in the #28 IDEC Sport car with a 3:37.044. He was followed by the #22 of Oliver Jarvis and third was the #14 of Louis Delétraz. The #14 was also fasted in LMP2 Pro/Am though the time was set by a Pro.

In LMGT3 the #78 Akkodis ASP Lexus was on top with a lap from Kelvin van der Linde who later travelled to Zandvoort for the DTM Race. Van der Linde set a 4:00.106. His teammate, Esteban Masson in the #87 Lexus was half a second behind him. Third was Sean Gelael in the #31 Team WRT BMW.

The session saw several interruptions, the first coming from the #3 Cadillac driven by Renger van der Zande. The driver came to a stop during his out lap on the run down to Indianapolis. The car had a fuel line issue. Race Control first opted for a slow zone, but this was later turned into a short red flag.

Following the red flag, Race Control simulated the new safety car procedure for this year which took a while.

During the session two LMP2 cars (the #33 and #47) suffered front suspension issues.

Later in the session a FCY was called as the #87 Lexus was stopped at the exit of the Dunlop Chicane, the car could continue. Only minutes later, there was another Yellow as the #15 BMW of Dries Vanthoor came to a halt. The team told Vanthoor to stop the car as they found abnormalities in the engine. The team eventually opted for an engine change which saw their running today severely interrupted.

The session eventually ended under a red flag as the #37 Cool Racing car of Lorenzo Fluxa went off at the exit of the Porsche Curves. This was the biggest accident of the session as the car was damaged on several corners. Fluxa was said to be ok by the team.

There were several stop and go penalties given due to track limits.

Results

Session 2

Porsche ended the test day with a 1-2 with a 3:26.907 by Kevin Estre in the #6 followed by Felipe Nasr who set a 3:27.142 in the #4.

Times were several seconds quicker than last year with lighter cars and very favourable weather aiding to that. Most cars set their fastest time in the second session.

In LMP2 Oliver Jarvis in the #25 APR Car led the field by over a second with a 3:34.704. He was followed by the #25 of Olli Caldwell who set a 3:35.981. James Allen was third in the #30 in the Duqueine car. The car was also quickest in LMP2 Pro/Am though the time was set by a Pro

In LMGT3 Sebastien Baud set the fastest lap with a 3:59.883 in the #82 TF Sport Corvette. Alex Tiberias followed with a 3:59.920 in the #27 Heart Of Racing Aston Martin. Augusto Farfus equalled his time in the #31 BMW while Sean Gelael was only 2 thousands slower in the same car.

The first interruption of the session came when the #10 Vector Sport LMP2 went off at Indianapolis. According to dailysportscars.com the team already wrote off a chassis during testing at Spa last week. Making this incident another big blow to the team.

During the red flag the #19 Lamborghini spun at Arnage and then drove almost 100M in the opposite direction to the way the track goes. The driver, Matteo Cairoli has had 1 penalty point withdrawn on his license and has been given a suspended 30 seconds stop and go penalty for the race. This means that if he repeats this infringement during any of the sessions next week, this penalty will be handed out.

Later in the session the #14 AO Racing car caused a slow zone followed by a safety car. PJ Hyett tried to overtake an LMGT3 car but instead made contact at the wall at Indianapolis.

Another incident took place somewhere during the session when the #47 Cool Racing Car had contact with the #88 Ford Mustang. The driver of the #47 was deemed at fault but only a warning was given.

During the closing minutes the #7 of Kamui Kobayashi went off at Indianapolis. This caused a red and a premature end to the session.

Results

Combined Results

[formulaes5]

fall from the stars (get in my car)

Mark watched in a combination of amazement and long suffering acceptance as Seb whipped a travel sachet of lube from his pocket like the world's lamest, horniest magician. Of course Seb would think to bring lube to a formal gala. He didn't even think he was surprised anymore. Nothing is sexier than good driving and Mark Webber's stupid, handsome face. Sebastian makes his opinions on the matter known.

☆ 3.8k, E, ao3 ☆

They left the event separately, one after the other. Mark taking the initiative to head out first after Jenson somehow managed to stand up from the table without falling over, swaying on his feet as he announced that he was excusing himself to the bathroom, “Definitely not to throw up, thank you very much”. Somehow, Mark doubted the truthfulness of that statement.

“Well mate,” he said as he stood, “you have fun with that, I’ll see you later then?”

Jenson replied with what may or may not have been an affirmative groan, clearly not quite with it as he stumbled off in the general direction of the bathrooms. Hopefully he would get there in time, or some put upon member of staff would be forced to deal with it, Mark thought with a grimace.

Seb vaguely followed the interaction from the next table over, before watching Mark’s long legs appreciatively as he strode towards the exit, occasionally stopping to shake hands with people and say his goodbyes. Sebastian followed at around the twenty minute mark, somehow managing to extract himself from a conversation with Christian about new car regulations and his holiday plans in the Maldives with Ginger Spice, of all people. How Christian managed that was still something of a conundrum to the team, with the vast majority of them agreeing that she was so out of his league that he may as well be playing a different sport altogether. Mysteries would never cease.

They had organised their rendezvous in the car park out the front of the building. Seb stood out the front for a minute, scanning the sea of expensive sports cars in a veritable rainbow of colours; red Ferrari’s, blue Aston Martin’s, a pink Lamborghini – and one yellow Suzuki Swift, looking very out of place – before he spotted Mark, leaning up against a sleek white Porsche. The subtle but classy coupe didn’t exactly stand out between every other expensive sports car, but it was still beautiful in it’s own regard, especially with Mark leaning up against it, looking – in Sebastian’s humble opinion – just about good enough to eat, the ends of his undone bow tie hanging loose around his neck, lightly buffeted by the evening breeze giving him a distinctly James Bondesque look.

Mark looked up as he approached, pocketing his phone and pushing away from the car to greet him, “Hey handsome, you come here often?” he joked, raking his eyes down the length of Sebastian’s suit clad body with obvious interest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Seb laughed, “shut up and get in the car, time to go home.”

Mark acquiesced with a chuckle, moving from the side of the car before stopping to watch as Seb shrugged out of his suit jacket, popping the top few buttons of his shirt with one hand and opening the car door to throw the jacket behind the seats with the other. He paid special attention to the view as Seb bent over to put his jacket in the car, grinning as he moved around the car to the driver’s side and laying a slap on the curve of Seb’s ass where he was bent over arranging his jacket as he passed him. Mark laughed at the way Seb startled, only feeling slightly bad about it when he jumped and hit his head on the roof of the car.

“Hey!” Seb protested, blushing fiercely and rubbing the back of his head, “that’s harassment, surely!” he complained.

He threw a mock offended look at Mark over the top of the car, who saw straight through the protest without problem. Seb always liked it when Mark blurred the line between what was and wasn’t technically appropriate in public, and a deserted parking lot was as good a place as any for it.

“I’ll show you harassment sweetheart,” Mark joked, leering over the car at the skin of Seb's throat now on display, “now, what was it you said? That’s right… Shut up and get in the damn car.”

Seb laughed. He got in the damn car.

Buckling their seat belts before pulling out from the parking lot, they navigated the winding city streets until they made their way out onto the relatively empty highway, passing very few cars at this time of night; just them and a few other highway drivers, passing like ships in the night.

Seb watched intently from the passenger seat, eyes locked onto Mark’s strong profile. He had always been handsome, and Seb had always been attracted to him – albeit grudgingly at times – but there was just something so damn edible about the way he looked in formal wear, and watching Mark all night long had been a challenge in self control, to say the least. He traced the line of Mark’s jaw with hungry eyes, taking in the few days of stubble that he knew from experience felt perfect against his skin. Diverting his attention from Mark’s face, he trailed his eyes across the length of the arm he was using to steer, practically drooling at the way Mark’s black shirt was rolled up to show off the muscles of forearms.

As lovely as those forearms were, Seb forced himself to move his eyes onward, to the main prize. Mark’s hands were large, certainly a lot larger than his own, which turned Seb on like nothing else, if he was being honest. He had one hand on the wheel, and the other on the gear shift, but both of them were indecent in Seb’s opinion; large and veiny and a perfect fit resting lightly at the column of his throat or wrapped around his cock. He adjusted himself in his seat, feeling distinctly hot around the collar at the thought of Mark’s hands on him, tight holding his wrists or gentle holding onto his waist. Stroking a thumb through the hair on the back of his hand as they held hands in the back of a taxi in some anonymous part of whatever country they were racing in, or linking their pinky fingers together under the table at a briefing. Seb wanted those hands on him tonight, preferably sooner rather than later.

As if things weren’t already bad enough for Sebastian, Mark had apparently decided that this was a perfect opportunity to move one of those large hands from where he had it resting on the gear shift to sit comfortably high up on Seb’s thigh. A dark pink blush spread across his face as Mark looked over at him with a grin, stroking his thumb back and forth. Even after all this time Mark still had the capacity to make Seb go redder than a Ferrari; the smug bastard. Seb couldn’t decide if he loved it or hated it more.

“Hey,” Seb laughed, “watch the road, not me.”

“But you’re so much more interesting to look at.”

“Mark!” Seb protested half heartedly.

“Oh but Sebi, the road doesn’t blush so pretty for me now does it?”

Seb went even redder in response to that particular compliment, glad that Mark had returned his focus to the road, if only because it meant that he didn't have Mark’s eyes boring into him anymore.

He still had Mark’s hand to contend with, stroking his thigh through his dress pants, slowly inching inwards. “Sebi… Naughty,” Mark teased as he moved his hand lightly over his crotch, feeling the hardness through his trousers,“What’s got you all worked up there mate?” he asked, not even looking over at him, his eyes focussed on the road.

“Mark,” Seb whined, bucking up into Mark’s hand, desperately trying to increase the friction in his trousers. Mark pressed his hand further down into Seb’s crotch, palming at his rapidly hardening length, but still focussing on the road, albeit with a large grin on his face. Even though Mark was doing exactly what Sebastian had instructed him to do – keeping his eyes forward and watching the road as he drove – a small, impractical part of Seb was bursting with anger at being so blatantly ignored, even when for all intents and purpose, his needs were still being tended to. He needed Mark’s full attention on him, he’d been craving it all night, really, and this still wasn’t good enough for him. He had standards, damn it.

“Mark, stop the fucking car.” ordered Seb, trying to project as much confidence into his tone as possible, significantly impacted by the way Mark had just pulled down his fly, teeth biting lightly into his bottom lip in concentration.

“We’re nearly home though,” Mark countered, now going as far as reaching his hand into Seb’s pants and slipping underneath the fabric of his boxers. Seb groaned as Mark wrapped his hand around him, stroking up and down his length, all the while grinning like a madman, “don’t you want to wait 'til we get home though?”

“I want you to pull over at the next rest stop,” Seb gritted out, “and fuck me right here in the damn car.”

Mark’s hand stilled immediately before retracting, still sticky with precome. He wiped his hand on his trousers and pulled the car into gear, speeding up towards their interim destination.

By the time they pulled into the rest stop Sebastian was a restless, wriggling ball of energy, desperate to get Mark’s hands back on him again. As soon as the handbrake cranked into place, Seb was undoing his seatbelt and reaching across to grab Mark by the collar, scrunching the shirt in his fists. He slammed their lips together messily, drawing Mark into a sloppy meeting of lips, noses knocking together and hands fisted in the expensive material of Mark’s crisp black shirt as he kissed him hard and heavy, pouring all the heady want that had been building up over the course of the drive into the kiss.

Mark tangled his hand into Sebastian’s curls, tugging with the perfect amount of pressure to draw a whine from him that Seb would probably be embarrassed about if he had the awareness to know that he was making it.

“Fuck,” Mark gasped, grabbing at his waist, “c’mon baby, get over here.”

Seb giggled as he clambered over the centre console, and deposited himself awkwardly into Mark’s lap, feeling grateful that Mark’s legs were long enough to necessitate that the driver's seat be set back far enough that he wouldn’t bump into the wheel and set off the horn. Seb looked down at Mark, feeling only slightly self conscious of the way that Mark was staring up at him, hands resting suggestively on his waist.

The tinted windows of the Porsche provided a modicum of privacy, but even then it wasn’t exactly what one would call private, but as Seb dove back into the kiss, rocking his hips down into Mark and slamming their mouths back together, he really didn’t give a damn. All he cared about was getting his hands on Mark and Mark’s hands on him and keeping it that way for as long as physically possible.

“Seb,” Mark panted between kisses, “wait a sec,” Seb kissed him again, whining and leaning further forward, desperately chasing the kiss as Mark pulled away, “I’d love to, but I don't exactly keep lube in the car.” Mark said apologetically, stroking his hands down Seb’s back soothingly.

Seb laughed, wriggling a bit in Mark’s lap as he reach into his pocket, which probably wasn’t doing great things for Mark’s self control, Seb thought idly, then wriggled some more just for good measure, making sure to put a fair bit more pressure down into Mark’s crotch than was really necessary or kind, drawing a soft groan from his throat and an unconscious jerk of his hips as Seb moved around in his lap enticingly. Seb had been waiting for this moment all night. He was ready.

Mark, on the other hand, had no fucking clue what Seb had in store for him.

Mark watched in a combination of amazement and long suffering acceptance as Seb whipped a travel sachet of lube from his pocket like the world's lamest, horniest magician. Of course Seb would think to bring lube to a formal gala. He didn’t even think he was surprised anymore.

“I… What the fuck, Seb?”

Seb just grinned down at him, shaking the sachet back and forth.

“Were you planning a quickie in the bathroom?” he asked incredulously, “not that I'm complaining,” he added hastily, just in case Seb decided to take his confusion as disinterest.

“Oh, so you don't want to fuck me?” Seb asked teasingly, leering down at him, “That’s what I'm hearing?”

“Nonono,” Mark protested, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him back down into his crotch to prove to Seb exactly how much he wanted him. He was hard just from the way Seb had been rubbing against him, which he was sure he had been doing on purpose – despite the supposedly innocent look in his eyes – and he was well on the way to aching at the idea of fucking him right where he sat in the Porsche, which they had somehow never done before, not even in Seb’s matching black version. They should definitely remedy that right now, Mark thought determinedly as he snatched the sachet from Seb's hands.

“Pants off,” Mark said authoritatively, already undoing the buttons on Seb’s shirt to get at his bare skin. Seb laughed, fumbling to unbuckle his belt and tug at his trousers, trying to work out how exactly he was meant to get them off from where he was sitting in Mark’s lap.

They managed it somehow, leaving Seb sat in Mark’s lap in just an unbuttoned shirt, having discarded his embarrassingly damp boxers with his trousers, and leaving his cock hard and aching and sandwiched deliciously between their bodies. Mark wrapped his hand back around his hard length, swiping his thumb over the head of Seb’s cock, slick with precome as he stroked him up and down a few times, before reaching back to prod gently at his hole, drawing a hum of pleasure from Seb as he felt the press of a large finger at his entrance.

Mark pulled his hand away just as quickly as it had arrived, somehow managing not to make a mess as he tore open the sachet of lube with his teeth, coating his fingers in the slick substance and moving back to the task at hand. The angle wasn’t great for his wrist as he eased a finger slowly up into Seb, who gasped at the sudden intrusion, moving in and out of his heat, but the noises that Seb was making more than made up for the inevitable ache he would have in his wrist the next day.

Seb canted his hips down onto his finger, clenching down in a wordless demand for more, which Mark was more than happy to give him, slipping a second finger in with the first as he pumped slowly into him, scissoring his fingers apart and stretching Seb’s hole, eliciting a drawn out moan as he moved in and out.

“More,” Seb moaned, “I want more… Mark, please.”

Who was Mark to deny him? He added a third finger, to Sebastian’s delight, crooking his fingers and searching for that sweet spot inside him.

“I’ve got you sweetheart,” Mark whispered, “gonna make you feel so good, you love that, don’t you, hm?”

Seb didn’t reply, just gasped as Mark found his target, his eyes snapping open as he moaned his appreciation.

“Good?” Mark checked distractedly, gazing up at the way Seb had thrown his head back in pleasure and feeling a smug satisfaction course through him to know that he was the cause of that dazed expression. He looked perfect, beautiful. He told him so, grinning at the way Seb shivered at the praise.

“Want you now,” he said, rocking his hips down faster onto Mark’s fingers, which were scissoring him apart in a perfect stretch, searching again and pressing up against his prostate “Mark,” he whined, “Mark, now.”

“Yep, one second,” Mark pulled his fingers from Sebastian’s hole, who gasped at the feeling of sudden emptiness, “it’s alright Sebi, just a second,” reassured Mark as he gently encouraged him to lift up, finally allowing him to push his own trousers down and off, tangling around his feet as he kicked them off with prejudice.

He reached for the little sachet of lube, which had been abandoned on the passenger seat – thankfully leather, and easy to clean – he squeezed the lube into his palm, coating it over his length with a groan, before spreading the remainder over Seb’s entrance, and the remainder of that onto his shirt thoughtlessly. He could buy a new shirt, hell, he could buy a hundred new shirts; right now he just needed to be inside Seb as soon as possible.

“C’mon baby, lift up for me,” he encouraged, taking his slicked up cock by the base and positioning it at Seb’s entrance, “there we go Sebi, there we go.” he murmured softly as Seb began to sit back down.

Seb slapped his hand against the window, clutching at Mark’s shoulder with the other, sparks shooting up his back as he sank down tantalisingly slow onto Mark’s length with a high moan.

“Ohmygod… Mark,” he gasped. The stretch was wonderful, bordering almost on painful, but a good kind of pain. The kind of pain that promised to turn into the most delicious, perfect pleasure.

Mark held on tightly to Sebastian’s waist – no doubt hard enough that Seb would be finding finger sized bruises the next morning for him to kiss better – groaning as Seb sat further down onto his cock, fighting the urge to buck his hips up into the perfect tightness of Seb’s hole as he did.

Seb bottomed out with a moan, bringing his ass flush with Mark’s hips and rocking gently against him as he took a moment, accustomising himself to the welcome intrusion. He wrapped both his arms around Mark’s neck and bumped his head forward into Mark’s, before carefully moving himself up and dropping back down into Mark’s lap with a squeak. He grabbed at Mark’s face with the intention of resuming their earlier kiss, but really only succeeded in smacking their teeth together until Mark cupped his cheek in return, gently angling his head and kissing him softly as Seb moved back and forth on Mark’s cock.

Seb leaned his body into the kiss, picking up the pace of his movement with the help of Mark, hands now back gripping his waist firmly as he helped him to move up and down on his cock. They were both moaning now, Mark meeting Seb in the middle as he thrust up into the silky hotness of his hole.

“Fuck, Sebi,” Mark groaned, his hands tight on Seb’s waist as he bounced in his lap, the slapping sounds of skin on skin filling the silence of the night.

A burn was rapidly beginning to make itself known in the muscles of Seb’s thighs as he bounced himself up and down on Mark’s cock. He pushed it to the back of his mind, chasing the high, loving the way Mark was slamming so perfectly into his prostate with each thrust now, sending sparks of pleasure shooting though his body as he let out a desperate little whine, needing more.

Seb moved to wrap a hand around his neglected cock, desperate to relieve the pressure as he dropped down and Mark hammered up into that sweet spot with a brutal efficiency that he thought might have just made him see stars. Mark batted Seb’s reaching hand away from his cock, startling a yelp out of him in the process. Pushing Seb’s hand out of the way, Mark replaced it with his own large hand, starting just under the leaking tip of Sebastian’s cock and pumping it with that same efficiency he was using to thrust perfectly inside of him.

He stroked Seb’s cock with what could only be described as passion, twisting his wrist on the way up and swiping his thumb over the tip, still thrusting up to meet Seb on his way down, pulling punched out little gasps and high moans from his beautiful mouth as he worked with a single minded focus to get him off.

“Don’t stop,” Seb gasped, bucking up into Marks hand and back down onto his cock, buried inside of him, “Don’t fucking stop.” He’s not sure which sensation is the one that does it, but all of a sudden he’s hurtling over the line, crying out and coming hard into Mark’s hand, onto his shirt and across his chest in spurts.

Mark barely lasts another five seconds, pulling Seb’s mouth to his own in a sloppy kiss, fucking Sebastian through his orgasm as he chases his own. He bucked frantically up into him, moaning as Seb clenched hard around him, getting lost in the feel of Seb’s body around him. Mark abandoned the rhythm they had set, fucking into him desperately before the drag and the heat of Seb’s perfect body became too much for him to handle. He came with a low groan, pressing himself as deep as he could into Sebastian as he filled him, sweat plastering their skin together as they panted into each other’s mouths.

They stay connected for a few minutes, Seb feeling floaty and sated and pleasantly full of Mark as he rested in his lap, kissing him softly, but unfortunately aware of the fact that he couldn’t stay there indefinitely. He pulled up and off of Mark’s cock with a groan, dropping himself back down into his lap, laying his head onto Mark’s shoulder and pressing his chest into Mark’s. They sat there for a while, holding on to each other as their chests heaved, Seb’s arms around Mark’s neck and Mark’s around Seb’s waist, pulling him in and holding him close.

He looked up at Mark before leaning in and connecting their mouths together, trading soft closed mouth kisses that devolved into deeper, sloppier, tongue filled messes.

“Fuck…” Mark breathed out, gazing at Sebastian, slumped loose limbed and gorgeous in his lap, “you’re so perfect like this sweetheart, so perfect.”

Seb doesn’t know what to say, still high on the rush, so he kisses him again, slow and sweet and sensual, a hand rubbing up against that lovely stubble. Mark sighs happily, kissing him back just the same, a hand pressing into the small of his back as he holds Seb in his lap; gently, possessively, lovingly.

“Can we…” Seb begins haltingly, “Can we just stay here, just for a moment? Just hold me like this for a moment.”

Mark pressed a kiss into his hair, followed by several more, stroking his hands gently over Seb’s back, “Sure sweetheart,” he says, “sure we can.”

[alvie-pines]

Ok so I mean no disrespect, I'm genuinely curious.

What is the draw of objectium? (I can't spell)

I'm questioning if I'm into that, and I'm not really sure what it means (other than like the textbook definition)

Of course I know it's different for everyone but I'd love to have your insight

the draw? thats a good question....

for me, im just attracted to objects (mainly machines) in the same way im attracted to women. i love curves and breasts. i love wires and hydraulics. like if u think the woman on the right is just as pretty as the woman on the left

for me, objectum is less a kink and more a sexuality. but for some people is it more a kink (you might also want to look into objectophilia!)

i find the curve of a lamborghini's chassis attractive. the power and strength in a large hydraulics system is sexy. an old-fashioned semi truck is handsome. a PC is cute. (or sexy, if it has a glass side... letting you see all up inside them...)

i also, am a bit like a bird. bright colors woo me. humans only come in varying shades of black, brown, tan, and peach. which are lovely, but sometimes i need a gorgeous warm yellow, or a smooth deep blue.

i also like the variety among inanimate objects. what makes each of them purr with delight? what special little traits does each have? nothing will ever be a VHS to me. i love their little clicks and clacks, the sounds they make when rewinding. a computer's fans spin hotter when they're thinking too hard. even more specific than types of objects, each model of computer has their own specific curve, size, weight. (and so on with other types of objects.)

and then, of course, i have to talk about my autism & hyper-empathy. objectum is a common sexuality among autistic people, which is probably linked to our hyper-empathy and tendency to anthropomorphize inanimate objects. not anthro like a furry; anthro like giving human emotions and personality traits to objects. like when your plushie falls off the bed and you feel bad because you dont want them to think you dont love them. except some of us kind of take it to the next level, and i think thats where objectum becomes more common among us. even with objects im not attracted to, i have a tendency to interpret them as having personalities, genders, feelings, etc. sometimes i interpret them as having specific feelings towards me. like my grandpa's car, which im intimidated by, and i feel like she doesnt like me very much. this is probably because she's an expensive sports car. sports cars are scary.

anyways--you can be objectum without being autistic, its just more common among us!

let me know if you have any more questions. i tried to be thorough, but ive never had to explain objectum before ^^

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

love means nothing | chapter 02

leon goretzka x original female character [+18]

synopsis: 10 years ago, after winning wimbledon at the age of 18, olivia araujo was tennis's biggest rising star. she had a cosmopolitan social life, a handsome boyfriend and all the time in the world. now she was pushing 30, single, lonely and after several complicated injuries she could feel her career coming to an end. warnings: sports-typical violence; mentions of depression; angst; timeline of events are not based on real life; minors dni.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Chapter 02 | Closer

“And when I see you then I know it will be next to me

And when I need you I know you will be there with me

I'll never leave you”

April, 2013, Stuttgart

It was my first time in Germany and I was playing Maria Sharapova in the Stuttgart Open Final. I was still practically a rookie at the time, having debuted at pro tennis only a year prior. At the time I already had a couple masters titles and the press was paying close attention to me. Young, rich, pretty and full of potential. I had a good sense of style and I inherited my parents' fame and connections. An ‘it-girl’, that was the term they were using. To make things more interesting for the tabloids, I would get a new boyfriend every few months. The guy at the time was Leon Goretzka, a football player, 18 years old just like me. He was playing for Schalke 04, 400 km away from Stuttgart, and we would meet in person for the first time after the tournament.

Up until then our flirting was online. We met through social media and hit it off immediately. Leon was a charming prince and it was so nice talking to someone who was going through the same things as I was. 

leon:

no way you’re playing sharapova :o think you can win??

liv:

i know right!! so cool

why don’t you watch the match and find out ;)

Getting to play with the grown ups for the first time. The pressure to be perfect. The press constantly telling the world you’re the next big thing, when you know for a fact they’re just waiting for you to stumble so they can tear you down. He just got it, he understood me when not a lot of people seemed genuinely interested in trying to.

“Feeling confident?” My dad asked before the match.

“As always.” I answered with a smile.

“That’s my girl!”

An hour and a half later I was lifting another trophy. I walked off the court, sweat pouring down my face and my heart racing. Maria had given me a run for my money, but I had managed to pull off a win in the end.

As I made my way back to the locker room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over me. The pressure to perform had been intense, and I knew that one misstep could have cost me the match. But I kept my cool, stayed focused, and ultimately came out on top.

I smiled to myself, feeling a sense of pride and accomplishment. I knew that there would be more challenges and more pressure to come, but for now, I was content to bask in the glow of another victory

After the tournament, I had a few days to spare before my next match, so I rented a Lamborghini and took a road trip to Gelsenkirchen to meet Leon. I was starting to get a taste of being an adult, with my parents allowing me to do whatever I wanted, as long as I showed up to practice on time, kept myself fit and won titles. Everything else was up to me. I packed my bags and set out on the Autobahn. The scenery was breathtaking as I drove through the German countryside, passing fields of bright yellow rapeseed flowers and quaint villages with traditional half-timbered houses. As I approached Gelsenkirchen, I could feel my excitement building. My first stop was the Veltins-Arena, home of the Schalke 04 football club. The stadium was stunning, massive and so much different from a tennis stadium. They were playing against Eintracht Frankfurt that night and Leon was in the starting 11.

“You’re beautiful.” Leon said to me after the match, we were both in my car driving to the hotel I was staying at. “So much more beautiful in person.” At the hotel room we ordered food and ate in bed.

“Congratulations on your win! That was amazing, I actually got to watch with my parents. We were all cheering for you.” Leon looked at me with bright eyes, almost like a fan.

“Well, congrats on your win, too! The game was so cool, I don’t even know a lot about football, but it was super fun.”

“Ah, but I didn’t get a trophy. You actually won a tournament!”

There was so much to talk and so much to do, we didn’t have enough time. So it didn’t take long for our clothes to decorate the bedroom floor. We were both exhausted from work, but that wasn’t an issue that night.

“You feel so good, here, let me take care of you.” Leon was inside of me, we were on the floor on our second round. Our bodies sticky with sweat and spit, our moans filling the bedroom; I was in a trance. He smelled amazing, he tasted amazing. Every cell of my body was begging for him. He had his hand on my clit while he was fucking me. “Cum on me, let me feel it.” He was behind me, pulling my hair. I could only answer him with a nod, my mouth open, my eyes closed.

Sex had never felt like that before. We came at the same time and I thought it meant that it was love. Our meeting was restricted to the hotel, in the morning we had breakfast in bed. It was raining and when we fucked again I considered just staying there forever. But I had to go back home soon, to the Portugal Open.

“I just want to stay like this.” I was laying in bed and he was on top of me, inside of me, kissing my face. “Forever.”

“I’m sorry, Liv, I don’t think I can last forever.” He said giggling.

“We’re gonna be fine, right? We can handle this.” We were outside my car, saying our goodbyes. I would drive to the airport and meet my father there. I was so nervous, it felt like insanity to turn this into a full relationship, but it also felt like insanity to walk away.

“Yes, we can do this.” He cupped my face in between his big hands. “I’m not giving up on us.” Before boarding the airplane I got a text.

leon:

missing you already

June, 2013, Nuremberg

Leon and I were inseparable then. Life was good, we were always in touch through text messages, phone and video calls. We talked about everything. When the WTA calendar gave me a chance to go back to Germany we decided to make our relationship official to our families and introduce them.

The Nuremberg tournament was on clay. After my first match, staring at my dirty sneakers and completely destroyed socks, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. I looked up at my parents in the stands and watched Leon clapping, celebrating my victory sitting right next to my 11 years old sister. By their side, there were a couple of unfamiliar faces – Leon’s parents.

The match was intense, with my opponent and I trading points back and forth, but I was overly confident that day and intended on showing off. In the end, I managed to come out on top once again, winning the match in straight sets.

As I walked off the court, I could feel the adrenaline still pumping through my veins. Later, after showering, we met at the lobby, on our way to a restaurant. We were all having lunch together.

"Congratulations on the win," Leon said, giving me a quick hug.

"Thank you, baby." I replied, smiling. His parents smiled warmly at me, congratulating me while Leon introduced us. At the restaurant, which I couldn't pronounce the name of, we sat at a large table by the window looking out at Nuremberg's busy streets.

“What a lovely city, I always wanted to know more about Germany!” Mom had a smile from ear to ear. I think she was prouder from me landing an athlete boyfriend than from me winning my match.

He wasn’t the first boy I introduced to my family, but that time it felt different. Like we could actually make it, against all odds. I was in love like never before. The sort of blinding, deafening young love that I would never experience again. My mother was excited, he was all she ever dreamed for me. My father, on the other hand, looked at me as if knew. Being a teenager, I was offended by his behavior. How dare he. Looking at me as if my long distance-also athlete boyfriend and I are not gonna make it past a year. How dare him act like he knows around this time next year I’ll be introducing him to a new boyfriend.

“And this is my best friend Sofie.” My little sister was showing Leon some pictures on her phone. Chiara loved him immediately and he was the sweetest with her. By the end of the dinner they had private jokes and she was determined to learn german. His parents seemed genuinely interested in me and I was picturing us spending Christmas together. 

Our relationship continued like that, only meeting in person a couple days at a time, searching for privacy and creating our love dens in luxury hotel rooms. Still managed to pose for the Bild front page a couple times, despite our best efforts. We were walking out of his apartment once, holding hands.

“I’m so lucky.” Leon kissed me. “I don't want to let you go.” I kissed him back.

“I’m going down the street to get us some coffee, you weirdo.” I giggled, but Leon continued with a serious face. 

“Just kiss me, silly.”

For the following months, pictures of me and pages of newspapers reporting my victories would decorate Leon’s bedroom.

“Honey, don’t cry. Baby, come here.” We were saying goodbye once again, that time we only managed to spend a few hours together. I couldn’t hold back my tears. I was leaving a part of me with him every single time.

“I think I love you.” I whispered through my tears. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to let me love you too.”

June, 2013, London

While practicing for Wimbledon that year, dad and I had a big fight. I don’t remember how it started. I was texting Leon during a break, I remember worrying about him, his health, his games, and then my dad was all over my face screaming at me. “I would never accuse you of having common sense, Olivia.” My father yelled. “Where do you think he is right now? Do you think he's alone, waiting for you to find time in your schedule? This is ridiculous, just get back to training.”

When I lifted the trophy for my first Grand Slam win, that’s what I was thinking about.

September, 2013, Beijing

The distance was particularly hard on me. I missed Leon terribly and it was hard for me to focus on my matches when I was constantly thinking about him. I had to keep my priorities straight and my career came first. We tried to make it work, but besides our best efforts the distance continued to take its toll. There were times when we would argue over small things and times when we would go days without talking. It just wasn’t worth it. I couldn’t find a way to be happy being away from him.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” My voice was barely audible, I had already been crying for hours before calling him.

"This is it? You’re just giving up on us?” He yelled over the phone. I had nightmares  for years about making Leon cry. I never forgave myself for that.

“That’s enough, Olivia.” My father said. I couldn’t sleep or eat properly for days after the breakup. The realization that I would never get to have a normal relationship was affecting more than anything else. If things didn’t work out with who I thought was my soulmate, who never hurted me, who I loved so much; then it wouldn’t work with anybody ever. I would die alone. “He’s just a boy, you’ll get over it.”

There was nothing else for me to do except going back to court. I deleted our pictures and texts, threw away his gifts and anything that reminded me of him. I dated a few times after that, but it was never the same. I understood what I had to do to keep myself relevant and competitive. That’s all that mattered. I learned to keep a distance, to build walls and keep myself safe.

[shynim]

Rev Up Your Romance: Elevate Your Wedding Day with Luxury Car Rentals

Absolutely! When it comes to making a grand statement on your special day, nothing exudes elegance and sophistication quite like a luxury car for wedding! Picture this: you and your partner, radiating love and joy, stepping out of a stunning vehicle that perfectly complements the magical atmosphere of your wedding. Let's dive into some exciting ideas that can elevate your wedding experience to an unforgettable level!

**1. The Majestic Rolls-Royce Phantom:** Imagine arriving at your venue in a Rolls-Royce Phantom, a paragon of luxury and presence! This iconic car is often regarded as the ultimate symbol of opulence. Its sleek lines, plush leather interiors, and a whisper-quiet engine make you feel like royalty. You can opt for a white or champagne color to match your wedding theme, and don’t forget to adorn it with beautiful floral arrangements that capture your wedding colors. A grand entrance in a Phantom is sure to leave guests in awe and set a romantic tone as you step out into your fairytale.

**2. The Sleek Bentley Continental GT:** If you're looking for a blend of class and sportiness, the Bentley Continental GT could be your dream ride! Its muscular stance and refined design will turn heads as you glide through the streets. Inside, you'll be enveloped in luxurious leather, wood accents, and a tech-savvy environment. Consider having matching custom wedding decor that echoes the sophistication of the Bentley, perhaps with elements such as personalized seat covers or a stylish wedding flag flying proudly as you drive away!

**3. The Classic Aston Martin DB11:** For couples who appreciate both style and heritage, an Aston Martin DB11 is a breathtaking option. This sports car combines breathtaking aesthetics with thrilling performance. Capitalizing on the allure of classic British craftsmanship, it offers a sense of adventure combined with luxury. Imagine pulling up at your reception venue in this stunning machine, with the sleek lines and powerful roar of the engine resonating as you step out, ready to celebrate the beginning of forever with your partner!

**4. The Elegant Mercedes-Benz S-Class:** The Mercedes-Benz S-Class is synonymous with prestige and comfort. With its spacious and opulent cabin, you'll have plenty of room to relax before you exchange vows. This car is equipped with the latest technology and provides a serene driving experience, perfect for calming any pre-wedding nerves! Additionally, you could enhance the experience by pre-selecting the ambiance — perhaps some relaxing playlists or even soothing scents in the air. Imagine gliding to your venue while feeling ultimate luxury envelop you!

**5. The Glamorous Lamborghini Huracán:** For the adventurous couple who love a splash of excitement, the Lamborghini Huracán is an exhilarating choice! Known for its bold design and incredible speed, arriving in a Huracán will undoubtedly create an unforgettable memory. You can choose vibrant colors like electric orange or tantalizing yellow to match your fun and lively wedding theme. Picture yourselves making a flashy entrance; the sound of the engine will not only turn heads but will also symbolize the thrilling journey you are about to embark on together!

**6. The Sophisticated Tesla Model S:** For eco-conscious couples seeking a luxurious yet sustainable option, the Tesla Model S is an impeccable choice. This electric car boasts cutting-edge technology, beautiful interiors, and zero carbon emissions! Plus, it’s equipped with autopilot capabilities, allowing you to sit back and enjoy the ride while perhaps sipping on a celebratory drink! Not to mention, it showcases your commitment to sustainability, making it an admirable conversation starter!

**7. The Timeless Vintage Car:** How about adding a touch of nostalgia to your wedding day? A vintage car, like a classic Cadillac or a 1960s Beetle, can bring a whimsical charm to your special day. You can choose a car that has a unique history or one that reminds you of a special moment. Decorate it with ribbons, flowers, and personal touches that reflect your love story. This option offers not only timeless beauty but also a chance to create an enchanting photo opportunity as you pose with the vintage vehicle against picturesque backdrops!

No matter which luxury car you choose, what truly matters is that it reflects your unique styles and love story. A luxury car adds an unforgettable element to your wedding, ensuring it’s not just a day to remember, but an experience that showcases elegance, class, and the beginning of a beautiful journey together. So buckle up and get ready for a magical ride as you celebrate one of the most important days of your life!

[asknarashikari]

Break time's over, now we end the mass assignment of Cybertronian with everybody's favorite cast, the Gotchard Cast, getting some new Cybertronians but something interesting happens next.

The Gotchard Cast's newly assigned Cybertronians:

Houtaro: Hot Rod/Rodimus Prime, the once brash and headstrong young Autobot but eventually grew into a much more wiser and mature Autobot futuristic truck/sports car, Tasmania Kid the young and restless Tasmanian devil, Blackout the silent and sneaky but powerful MH-53 Pave Low helicopter and his symbiotic companion Movie Scorponok the small scorpion, and Snapdragon the chaotic and obnoxious but intelligent triple-changing Cybertronian jet and dragon/dinosaur.

Rinne: Battle Unicorn the intelligent and stealthy unicorn, Override the careful and compassionate sleek futuristic race car and the leader of her planet, Doublecross the two-headed dragon with split personality, and Sonar the self-conscious bat with heightened senses.

Spanner: Constructicon Maximus the powerful and ancient combiner, comprised of Steamhammer the stoic and strategic steam shovel, Energon Bonecrusher the wheeled front-end loader with a movable bucket-shovel, Duststorm the heavy-lifting mobile crane, Sledge the wheeled front-end loader with a movable bucket-shovel, and Wideload the heavy-lifting mobile crane, Road Rage the cheerful but snarling and angry in her Chevrolet Corvette C3 mode, the Autobot Brothers comprised of X-Brawn the tough and adventurous SUV, RID Prowl the "by the books" and disciplined Lamborghini Diablo police highway pursuit vehicle, and Side Burn the adolescent speedster and turbo-revving young punk Dodge Viper with flame decos, and the Predacon Field Squadron comprised of Slapper the dim-witted prankster toad, Gas Skunk the clever ans skilled inventor skunk, and Dark Scream the bumbling and innocent flying squirrel.

Houou/Not-Simp Kaguya/Original Kaguya: Bruticus Maximus the powerful combiner comprised of Energon Barricade the eight-wheeled armored personnel carrier with a rear-mounted missile rack, Energon Blackout the assault helicopter, Blight the anti-aircraft tank, Energon Kickback the anti-aircraft tank, and Stormcloud the assault helicopter, Tow-Line the single-minded and fixated tow truck, Hot Shot the young and blunt yellow Audi TT, and Kup the tough, old and experienced Cybertronian pickup truck.

Lachesis: Greenlight the impetuous and young scientist Cybertronian car that replaces Jazz as a leg in the Orthia combiner, the dumb twins of Runabout the calm 80's sports car and Runamuck the chaotic 80's sports car, Injector the charismatic and cunning but vain lionfish-hornet, and Skid-Z the fast and competitive Penske PC-18 Indycar.

Renge and Sabimaru: Magmatron the strong and violent that separates into a Quetzalcoatlus, Giganotosaurus, and Elasmosaurus, Shadow Striker the vengeful sports car with a stone-cold facade, Metalhawk the noble with a great love of life Pretender jet, and Cancer the troubled and determined martial artist Headmaster crustacean-esque monster and his small partner, Browning the sentient handgun.

The Gotcard Cast and their assigned Cybertronians have decided to plan a celebration after killing Gigist, and they have been assigned more Cybertronians for this achievement, but as the new Cybertronians start to get accommodated with the person they were assigned with, the Gotchard Cast and their assigned Cybertronians receive a mysterious package, and when they do scans on it to make sure it isn't a bomb, open it and find some type of DVD and play it.

???: *evil laugh*.

The Gotchard Cast: Gigist!!!

Gigist: Well, well, if it isn't the Alchemist Riders and their fancy toys. You may have beaten me once, but let's just say I can come back from death and the Dark Kings and I decided to make your worst fears come true and As of recording, our plan has been set into motion.

Footage shows multiple Malgam, Kasshine, and Kamen Rider Dreads in the background.

Gigist: I even brought back one of your friends. Isn't that right Kaguya?

Kaguya/AR Houou: Oh that's right, and Houtaro if your listening to this, stay away from that no good fake me.

Gigist: In one month, I and the others will kill you once and for all. So long Alchemist Riders.

The footage cuts out and the Gotchard Cast are stunned knowing that their worst enemies have teamed up to kill them and they only have one month to prepare for them, but Rodimus decides to motivate them that they can do this and finally be rid of the Dark Kings and their cohorts due to some doubt about even being able to win.

Rodimus: You guys are thinking of giving up? Don't, it's a bad idea. I've been doing this for nearly 40 years and I think with our combined power, heart, brains, speed, and strength, we will finally be rid of them once and for all. So, what are you waiting, let's train to be able to reach that goal.

What are the Riders reaction to Gigist and Kaguya/AR Houou being resurrected, the multiple enemies of the Gotchard Cast uniting to kill them, and the Gotchard Cast and their multiple assigned Cybertronians training to finally be rid of them once and for all?

Well, I think they would feel some frustration over what seems to be a decisive victory being cut short and even made worse, but of course that just makes them supportive of their kouhai taking action to finish what they started properly.

Which is to say, they cheer them on as they kick butt and take names

[aiyiyichat]

Week 37 (Part 2)

Back To The Future Next was Gonzo's room, which was simultaneously easier and harder. Easier because the room is wish fulfillment in its design. Harder because although I've always dreamt of being a surfer, I've only ever surfed once which means I’m a Kook and Kooks aren't cool. If I'm not careful how his room is depicted, it'll reek of poseur. My solution is to inject some skate culture which I do know a lot about having skateboarded competitively in my youth. Skate and surf cultures have significant overlap so maybe my cred in one will grant me a hall pass to the other. Just like in his sister's room, how Gonzo sleeps is important. And how does the coolest surf bro in cyberspace sleep? On a hammock from the future! The opposite of a cocoon—out in the open without a care or fear in the world. Exposed and one with nature. I googled futuristic hammocks and was disappointed with all of the results. We're 'gon have to design this thing ourselves. Suddenly an image from my childhood was laser projected into my mind in blazing high fidelity: Darth Vader's Meditation Chamber. I'm not sure why both my characters have key room elements inspired by redeemed movie villains, but I suspect it says something about me. Anyway, I also indulged my love for sunken rooms and dropped the floor twice to delineate three important parts of a teen boy's life: work, play and sleep. Plus sick floor lighting that's better than yours bruh. Originally I was going to put a Sega Genesis in the room, but decided that might be too small to signify the importance of video games to his lifestyle. Plus, Genesis games were faithful to the arcade, but never arcade-perfect. The only way to get arcade-perfect is to have a full blown Sega Astro City in your room. The other important piece of retro tech is a waterproof (and beach ready) Sony Sports boombox. Just like her iMac G4, I actually owned (and still have!) this bright yellow piece of music hardware history. As for pop culture posters, there is only one car every boy in the 80s had plastered to his wall: The Lamborghini Countach—whose angular lines are echoed throughout the room design. Finally, those intricate tiles at the top of the walls are from Deckard's apartment in the original "Blade Runner" and were designed by Frank Lloyd Wright - the only architect I actually loved in Architecture School. It is unclear whether Deckard is human or android in both Blade Runner films and I'd love it if Gidget & Gonzo toe that line for users like me who like to believe there might be a ghost in the machine. A last minute addition to the room is a sci-fi movie prop with deep ties to AI, CG and California culture as a nod to my passion for all these things as well as cybersecurity. 🥏

[jroycethethird]

A surprisingly fond smile graced Royce’s lips at Todd’s stumbling around how to address him. When he’d first reached out and employed Todd Miller, he saw him a bit as a personal project. A sort of Eliza Doolittle. He’d take him to his tailor to get nice suits, to the fancier restaurants in town and to show him some etiquette as well as try to get him a little up to speed with modern day, and there were times he had tried to correct his ‘lingo’. But the more Royce knew the boy, the less he wanted to really change him. Todd’s charm came from being a sort of man out of time, from his odd little colloquialisms and the like. So Todd Miller was the only person in this world that was allowed to call J. Royce Van Doren III “Dude” without earning his thunderous ire. Instead, he smiled at the other fumbling about his name, and didn’t bother to correct or anything. Todd’s response to the garage had Royce leaning back against the wall and appraising the rows of vehicles before them. “Just about,” he said, motioning to a pair of pastel pink and mint vespas, and matching vintage Volkswagen Beetles wrapped in the same sugary sweet hues. “Those are my sisters’,” and then he motioned to a couple modern and very sleek black SUVs, “The old man’s, though he doesn’t drive them himself.” A candy apple red Corvette, “My step-mother's, and it’s collecting dust. But the rest…” He let out a whistle as he looked over them, his racers and flashy sports cars and tiny mid century European beauties, “…Those are all mine.”

He flashed a brilliant smile, “You can call me.. brah.” The word was foreign and odd on his tongue, but Royce said it with his best inflection of Todd’s throwback way of speaking, squaring his shoulders. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir’. And yes — I trust you, and I think you should be allowed to have some fun with this second life of yours. What’s more fun than driving an expensive vintage car?” Royce thought so few things were as fun as that, but he also thought Lunar Cove didn’t offer much to begin with. The infectious noise coming from Todd was met with a chuckle of Royce’s own, nodding at the other. “Yes! You’re a hard worker, a good guy, I think you deserve it, truly.” He gave an encouraging wave of his hand, as if to tell Todd to explore, to look at the cars and see which he liked best. By now he had seen the ones that were Royce’s favorites and off the table, but he had so many sitting there that deserved to be taken out. He wanted the blonde to have fun, test a few, really see which one spoke to him most. But of course Todd already had dream cars on the mind. Royce smirked and turned back to a large case on the wall, opening it to reveal row upon row of keys. Dancing his fingers over them, he grabbed a few off their hooks before closing the cover on the case. “Oh I’ve got both,” he clarified, nodding down the wide aisle going down the center of the garage and urging him to follow. He began to count out years as he passed car by car, stopping as he ticked off ‘1980’ and pausing as he pointed at a couple 1981 Lamborghini Countachs, one in yellow and the other in red, and then a very sleek black 1983 Pontiac Firebird. “…I have some older ones too, if you’d like.” He held out the three keys in a single hand, nearly falling off his palm. “Which one do you want to test out?”

While so much shit had changed since 1984, one thing that had not changed was the need for a dude to protect his rep. Todd could understand that. And his new employer certainly had a rep to protect. Todd himself had, by now, in the meager weeks during which he had been working for Royce, gotten to understand that he too owed some contributions to that rep. He had started to clean himself up for work, even bought a few proper collared shirts and ties, as much as they choked him and made him feel like a fucking square. Nevertheless, deciding not to show his discomfort, he followed close behind the other but could not conceal his sense of wonder. Eyes wide as he took in the garage, he let out a genuine noise of surprise as the lights snapped on. "Woooahhh....Shit! Uh, sorry. Wow. Dude. Sir. Royce," he stammered, taking in the vehicles with an expression of utter amazement. He had spent most of his life dreaming of moments like this, of money, of things. He had neither, only visions of fame, of importance. But all at once, Todd was a preteen again, reading magazines by moonlight looking for images to carry his mind out of Rhode Island and his decidedly small pond. "This is...radical. These are all yours?"

He grinned, listening intently, but after a beat, Todd's mouth dropped open. "Me? You'd let me drive...? For real? Wow. I swear I'll take super care of it, brah. Sir. Royce. Honest. For real. Guard it with my life. Thank you," he insisted, nodding very seriously. Another noise of excitement escaped his lips, something just about near a giggle. "Wait, what? Pick one? You mean...I mean, I couldn't, like...A bonus? I ain't ever gotten a bonus, man, and I just..." Overwhelmed, really, Todd spun in a half-circle, as if he did not know what to do or where to go. But without thinking, he tugged Royce into a grateful bro-hug before jumping back. "Sorry! Sorry. I didn't, like...mess your duds, did I? I can call the dry cleaner right now," he apologized quickly, lest his employer change his mind. "You, uh, you don't...you don't got a '81 Countach, do you? No, no, too much, right? What about, like, a Firebird maybe?"

[coolthingsguyslike]