#Recharge hashtag

[royalhealingwellness1]

Transform your skin into a silky smooth canvas with our luxurious body scrub service! Our team of professionals will pamper you with the finest ingredients, leaving you feeling rejuvenated and refreshed. Say goodbye to dull and dry skin, and hello to a radiant glow. Book your appointment today and indulge in the ultimate self-care experience.

[eclown4hire]

happy valentines!

[w0rldend]

[hedonicghost]

No that's the big theory on why the animatronics in security breach are sentient is the recharge stations are for harvesting/discharging remnant

REALLY????? why cant we just have sentient ai....... if they can have face detection and stuff in the 80s i think we can also just have sentient ai...

[cabinette]

hashtag.... recharging!!!!

[chickycherrycola]

Cherrytober 2024 🍒

Hi lovelies! Welcome to the official Cherrytober event post!!

What is Cherrytober, you ask? It's a month-long prompt challenge celebrating kink and erotic romance, inspired by Kinktober and my personal love of erotica in all its forms. I'm excited to be hosting my very first prompt challenge event! 💕 much love and gratitude to my most esteemed pal @mellancholy-morose for designing the absolutely gorgeous banner and prompt graphics 😘🙏🏻

For each day in October, there are two prompts to choose from. You can do one per day or both; you can combine the prompts, you can mix and match ideas - whatever your kinky little heart desires! I've included a text version of the list below the cut as well.

This event is open to all - any fandom, any characters, any creation. Whether you're a writer, a visual artist, a rare-pair shipper, or you write/draw original content, you're welcome to join in the fun! I only have three rules:

No kinkshaming

No ship-shaming (ship and let ship)

No minors (please only participate if you're 18+)

I'd love to see and support your wonderful creations! Either tag me in the post or use the hashtag #cherrytober2024. You can also post your completed fics/art to the Cherrytober 2024 Collection on Ao3!

I can't wait to see what you all create! 🍒🍒🍒

Scent // Dirty Talk

Oral Fixation // Feet

Honeymoon // Shibari

Aphrodisiac // Breeding

Foreplay Only // Knifeplay

Birthday Sex // Threesome

Against A Wall // Pegging

Striptease // BDSM

Pillow Fight // Praise Kink

No Hands // Temperature Play

Multiple Orgasms // Hair Pulling

Clothes On // Facefucking

Makeup Sex // Mirror Sex

Hotel // Aftercare

MID-MONTH BREAK! Rest, recharge, indulge in some self-love 🍒

Quickie // Oral Sex/69

Sex on the Beach // Masturbation

Can't Sleep // Sex Toys

First Time // Tattoos

Sexting // Double Penetration

Temptation // Roleplay

Wet Dream // Spanking

To The Music // Tights/Stockings

Morning Sex // Body Worship

Black Tie Affair // Food Play

Interrupted // Thigh Riding

Bare // Public Sex

Photoshoot // Leather/Latex

Dirty Little Secret // Love Bites

Lace // Restraints

Scars // Monsterfucking

[transform4u]

Under the influence

The early morning sunlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Chris Olsen's downtown loft, casting a warm glow over the eclectic mix of vintage furniture and modern art. In the heart of Los Angeles, where dreams were both forged and shattered daily, gay TikTok influencer Chris sat perched on a plush velvet couch, scrolling through messages on his phone with a steaming mug of coffee in hand.

Dressed casually in a open button up shirt, exposing his tight six pack abs and pecs and faded jeans, Chris embodied a relaxed charm that contrasted with the high-energy performances seen on his TikTok feed. His tousled hair, a mix of natural waves and streaks of vibrant color, framed his expressive face—a canvas that wore its emotions proudly. With over a million followers, Chris had become a beacon of positivity in the often turbulent sea of social media. His journey to self-acceptance had been a public one, documented in raw, uplifting posts that spoke to the struggles and triumphs of being true to oneself. His loft, a reflection of his eclectic tastes and creative spirit, served as both sanctuary and studio—a place where he could recharge and create.

Chris chuckled to himself as he scrolled through TikTok, contemplating his next move. He toyed with the idea of showcasing a new dance routine that had been trending, imagining the upbeat music and his own fluid movements captivating his audience. Then, his eyes caught a new hashtag trending: #SlidIntoStraightStereotypeFlitter. The irony of it tickled his sense of humor—what better way to playfully poke fun at heteronormativity than with a silly flitter video?

The thought of dressing up in exaggerated, stereotypical straight attire crossed his mind, complete with a comically serious expression as he performed the flitter. He could already envision the comments and likes pouring in, his followers appreciating the satire and the playful jab at societal norms. With a mischievous grin, Chris began brainstorming how he could turn this idea into his next viral TikTok sensation, eager to share a laugh with his community while spreading a message of acceptance and lightheartedness.

As Chris snapped the photo of himself, ready to embark on his playful journey into straight stereotype satire, he couldn't suppress a chuckle at the loading screen's progress bar humorously declaring "10% Straightness loaded." His eyes twinkled mischievously, his mind already brimming with ideas for the upcoming transformation.

Then, as if a surreal wave washed over him, he felt a strange sensation ripple through his body. A subtle yet distinct change began to unfold. He felt himself growing taller, stretching upward until he stood at an imposing 6 foot 3 inches. It was as if someone had gently tugged at his frame, elongating him just enough to be noticeably taller than before.

Amused yet slightly bewildered by this unexpected physical alteration, Chris took in his surroundings. The morning sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to cast a different glow around him, emphasizing the transformation. He glanced down at his hands, noticing a shift in his skin tone. What was once his natural complexion now appeared paler, almost ghostly, under the bright light.

Curious and increasingly fascinated by the bizarre but intriguing changes, Chris lifted his gaze to the mirror hanging on the wall. There, staring back at him, was a reflection that both amused and surprised him. Dark, dramatic circles of eyeliner now framed his eyes, contrasting starkly with his newly pale complexion. His tousled hair seemed to have taken on a more angular, styled look, adding to the overall transformation.

A smirk played on Chris's lips as he took it all in. The loading screen, now progressing to "15% Straightness loaded," seemed to perfectly capture the absurdity and fun of the moment. He couldn't help but admire the playful exaggeration of the stereotypical "straight" appearance he had adopted. It was all in good humor, a satirical nod to societal norms and expectations.

As he prepared to document this transformation for his TikTok audience, Chris felt a surge of excitement. This wasn't just about creating content; it was about sparking conversations, challenging perceptions, and spreading joy through his unique brand of humor and authenticity. With a newfound confidence in his exaggerated guise, Chris began to plan his next moves, eager to share this journey with his followers and continue celebrating the beauty of self-expression, no matter how unconventional it may be.

As Chris continued to playfully embrace the unfolding transformation, the loading screen progressed to 20% Straightness Loaded with a subtle chime. He felt a sudden shift deep within him, a sensation that was distinctly uncomfortable. It began as a subtle ache, barely noticeable, but quickly intensified into a sharp, throbbing pain that coursed through his muscles.

His abs, once defined and prominently displayed, seemed to soften and lose their chiseled form. The tightness in his pecs and biceps began to dissipate, replaced by a gradual shrinking sensation. Each muscle group seemed to deflate, the contours that had defined his physique gradually fading away. It was as though his body was reverting, shedding the muscularity he had worked so hard to maintain.

Chris grimaced, his brows furrowing with concern as he instinctively touched his abdomen, feeling the diminished outlines of what used to be his six-pack. The pain was unsettling, not just physically but emotionally too. He had embraced his body, celebrated its strength and athleticism, and now it was slipping away in a surreal twist of fate.

Fear crept into his mind. He didn't want to become someone he wasn't—a stereotypical "twink" with a slighter build. But the changes didn't stop there. As he stood in front of the mirror, trying to make sense of what was happening, he noticed something even more unexpected.

Intricate tattoos began to emerge across his skin, appearing as if inked by an unseen hand. They snaked their way up his arms, adorned his chest, and even crept along his neck and shoulders. The designs were mesmerizing yet bewildering, adding another layer to the transformation that was unfolding before his eyes.

Panic surged within Chris as he stared at his reflection, now bearing tattoos he had never imagined. Each line, each swirl seemed to tell a story of its own, marking his skin in a way that felt simultaneously foreign and oddly familiar. The pain of his muscles shrinking was now overshadowed by the overwhelming realization that his appearance was changing in ways he couldn't control.

As the loading screen crept to 30% Straightness Loaded, a tingling sensation spread through Chris's scalp, accompanied by an eerie sensation as if invisible hands were gently pulling at his hair. He watched in astonishment as his tousled locks lengthened swiftly, cascading down over his forehead and obscuring his vision. The vibrant colors of his hair seemed to intensify, transforming into an unholy mix of neon pink and electric blue, a stark contrast to the natural waves and streaks he had embraced moments ago.

Chris's hands instinctively reached up to touch the unfamiliar strands now covering his face. He felt the weight of the hair, its texture alien yet strangely alluring. The mirror reflected a person he almost didn't recognize—his eyes wide with disbelief, partially hidden behind this wild mane of dyed hair that screamed rebellion and nonconformity.

As the loading screen progressed to 40% Straightness Loaded, another wave of disorientation swept over Chris. Memories that were once vivid and cherished—attending a Lady Gaga concert, participating in those insufferable TikTok challenges with Meghan Trainor—began to blur and fade like a dream upon waking. In their place, new memories began to form, memories of raucous rock concerts, late-night jam sessions with friends, and hours spent learning chords on a guitar.

Chris staggered backward, clutching at his head as conflicting memories clashed within his mind. The sensation was dizzying, as if pieces of his identity were being rearranged without his consent. He struggled to reconcile the person he had been moments ago with the person he was becoming, all at the whim of this inexplicable transformation.

At 50% Straightness Loaded, with half of the "Straightness" now supposedly loaded, Chris felt an unsettling shift deep within his psyche. A cocky grin spread across his face, replacing his previous kind and liberal demeanor with something altogether different. Confidence bordered on arrogance, and a sense of entitlement crept into his thoughts.

Gone was the empathy and understanding that had defined his interactions. In its place surged a new attitude—an almost abrasive cockiness that felt foreign yet oddly familiar. Chris felt himself embracing notions he had once scoffed at—asserting his opinions with unwavering conviction, taking what he wanted without consideration for others, and exuding a self-assuredness that bordered on arrogance.

It was as if a switch had been flipped, rewiring his entire outlook on life. The transformation wasn't just physical or even just about memories—it was reshaping his very essence. Chris struggled against this newfound persona, the conflict evident in his furrowed brow and the tension that gripped his jaw.

As the loading screen reached 55% Straightness Loaded, a sharp, searing pain pierced through Chris's lips. He instinctively brought his hand up to his mouth, feeling the unmistakable sensation of two piercings etching themselves into his flesh—snake bite piercings, a hallmark of edgy, rebellious youth culture. The metallic taste of blood lingered as Chris gingerly touched the newly formed piercings, his heart sinking as he realized the transformation was far from over.

The cocky grin that had started to form on his face widened, a mirror of the growing arrogance and vanity that seemed to accompany each step of the loading progress. Chris felt a surge of confidence wash over him, mingled with an unsettling sense of entitlement. It was as though a new persona was emerging—one that reveled in attention, thrived on controversy, and exuded an aura of aloofness that bordered on disdain.

At 65% Straightness loaded, the transformation took a more sinister turn. Memories began to shift and morph before his eyes. Scenes of joyous moments at gay pride parades and heartfelt conversations with past dates faded into obscurity. In their place emerged memories of a different life—one where Chris was the "coolest guy in school," charming girls on campus with his guitar and cheesy pickup lines.

The disorientation was overwhelming. Chris felt himself aging backward, memories rewinding like scenes from a movie played in reverse. His sense of identity fractured further as he struggled to reconcile the conflicting realities now battling for dominance in his mind. The warm embraces and tender kisses he had shared with past boyfriends faded into obscurity, replaced by a series of failed attempts at hooking up with girls.

He recalled the nights spent at bars, trying to impress women with his charm and wit. But no matter how hard he tried, something always seemed to be missing—a spark that could never ignite between him and these strangers. He found himself resorting to desperate measures, using cheesy pickup lines and even making out with girls in public just for attention.

Chris found himself drawn to girls with big tits and fat asses, the type who knew how to work their curves and flaunt their assets. He admired the confidence they exuded, often feeling intimidated by their boldness in comparison. His eyes would linger on women wearing tight clothing that accentuated every curve, leaving little to the imagination.

As he approached these girls at bars or parties, a sneer would fall across his face as he became even more entitled than before. His arrogance grew along with his newfound desire for attention from anyone willing to give it—even if it meant objectifying women for personal gain. He'd make comments about how "hot" they looked or ask if they wanted him "to take care of them," playing into societal norms that demeaned women while boosting his own ego at the same time.

The person staring back at him wore the snake bite piercings with swagger, exuding a confidence that masked a deeper turmoil. His eyes, once bright with empathy and understanding, now glinted with a cold indifference that sent a chill down his spine.

At 75% Straightness loaded, Chris was filled with a deep sense of homophobia. Anything remotely gay or queer now seemed awful to him. He found himself rolling his eyes at jokes about "the gays" and even went as far as making derogatory comments about friends who were openly gay.

A rage began to build inside him, fueled by the anger and venom that came along with this newfound hatred for anything related to his former self. He'd lash out at anyone who dared question his straightness or challenge the norms he now held so dearly.

Chris's newfound homophobia was all-consuming. He found himself getting angry at the sight of two men holding hands or a woman wearing anything that could be perceived as "too feminine." His once open mind had closed itself off completely, leaving no room for empathy or understanding towards those who didn't fit into his narrow view of what was "normal."

One memory that stood out to him involved an encounter with an old friend from high school. They had run into each other at a local coffee shop and engaged in small talk until the topic turned to their respective love lives. When Chris mentioned his recent string of failed attempts with girls, his friend casually mentioned they were seeing someone special—a man. Chris's face flushed red with rage as he stormed out without another word, unable to contain the hatred bubbling up inside him.

As the loading screen ticked relentlessly towards 90% Straightness Loaded, Chris felt a surge of overwhelming confidence. He stood tall, shoulders squared with a swagger that exuded an air of self-assuredness bordering on arrogance. The transformation was nearing completion, and with each passing moment, Chris's identity slipped further away, replaced by the persona of Sebastian—the perfect, hot, sexy emo rocker whiny douchebag.

In this new state of being, Sebastian believed he was God's gift to women. His every move dripped with entitlement and vanity. Memories of genuine connections and meaningful conversations dissolved into a haze of superficial encounters and self-aggrandizing moments.

One vivid memory surfaced—a date with a girl named Sarah, whom Sebastian had taken to a trendy bar downtown. They sat at a dimly lit table, the clinking of glasses and distant chatter forming a backdrop to their conversation.

Sarah questioned "So, Sebastian, tell me more about yourself. What do you do?"

Sebastian, with a smug grin: "Oh, you know, I'm into music. I play guitar. I'm basically a rockstar in the making."

Sarah chuckled nervously, unsure how to respond to Sebastian's blatant self-promotion.

Sebastian continued, leaning back with a cocky tilt to his head: "I mean, girls are always falling for me. Can't blame them, right? I've got that whole mysterious, brooding artist thing going on."

Sarah shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her initial interest waning as Sebastian's arrogance became increasingly evident.

Sebastian asked "Anyway, enough about me. Tell me, Sarah, what's it like being around someone as irresistible as me?"

Sarah's polite smile faltered, replaced by a hesitant expression. She struggled to find common ground with this douchebag Sebastian, who seemed more interested in boasting about himself than getting to know her.

As the loading screen finally reached 100% Straight Whiney Emo Rocker Douchebag Stereotype Achieved, Chris Olsen ceased to exist in this reality. In his place stood Sebastian—a perpetually whiny emo douchebag, now residing in a cramped dorm room on a bustling city campus. Posters of rock bands adorned the walls, alongside flags emblazoned with symbols of alpha male pride. Sebastian spent his days studying music theory, mocking liberals, and singing songs that glorified his conservative alpha male values.

One evening in dorm, Sebastian strummed his guitar with practiced ease. His voice, a mix of raw emotion and calculated swagger, echoed through the room as he sang " ♪ They call me the alpha, the king of this town, ♪ I'm not here to play, I wear the crown. ♪ My voice is my weapon, my guitar's my sword, ♪ I'll break down the weak with a single chord."

As he played, Sebastian's dorm room began to fill with the pungent smell of weed. He had become a total stoner, spending most of his days and nights high as a kite. Empty beer cans littered every surface, evidence of his constant state of intoxication.

His once-tidy space was now cluttered with fast food wrappers, dirty clothes strewn about carelessly, and various other signs that indicated he had completely given up on maintaining any semblance of order or hygiene in his life. It was as if this new persona didn't care about anything beyond satisfying its own immediate desires—whether that meant getting high or finding someone willing to hook up for the night.

Sebastian whined on " ♪ I don't bow to no one, I stand tall and proud, ♪ Ain't afraid to speak my mind, say it loud. ♪ So listen up, all you weak and meek, ♪ I'm the alpha male, the one you seek." As the song ended, Sebastian's dorm room was a testament to his newfound lack of concern for anything beyond instant gratification. The once-clean walls were now covered in stickers and posters, most of them featuring scantily clad women or drug-related paraphernalia. His bed was unmade, with sheets tangled up in a messy heap on the floor. Empty pizza boxes and Chinese food containers littered every surface, along with empty beer cans and bongs that had been left out for all to see.

The stench of weed hung heavy in the air, mingling with the odor of sweat and unwashed clothes. It was clear that Sebastian had given up on maintaining any semblance of order or hygiene; instead choosing to immerse himself fully into this new persona characterized by excessive partying, casual sex, and constant intoxication.

His voice echoed with conviction, each word punctuated by the strum of his guitar strings. Sebastian reveled in the attention, basking in the belief that he had found his place in this new reality—a reality where Chris Olsen and his journey of self-acceptance had faded into obscurity, replaced by a persona that glorified everything he had once feared becoming.

Sebastian, the womanizing emo douchebag rockstar, had crafted a persona that screamed rebellion and arrogance in equal measure. Physically, he embodied a blend of edgy and stereotypical rockstar aesthetics. His hair, dyed in shades of unnatural brilliance—neon pink streaks intermingled with electric blue—fell in disheveled waves around his face, often obscuring his sharp, calculating eyes. Two snake bite piercings adorned his lips, a constant reminder of his defiance against conventional norms.

He dressed in a uniform of black skinny jeans, ripped at the knees for dramatic effect, paired with band t-shirts featuring obscure rock groups or provocative slogans. His arms were adorned with tattoos, a collage of symbols and lyrics that spoke to his self-proclaimed identity as a tortured artist and misunderstood rebel. Silver rings adorned his fingers, clinking against his guitar strings as he played with a practiced ease that bordered on showmanship.

Sebastian's demeanor exuded a cocky confidence that bordered on arrogance. He moved with a deliberate swagger, shoulders back and chin held high, as if the world revolved around his mere presence. In social settings, he commanded attention effortlessly, weaving through conversations with a blend of charm and calculated detachment. His voice, deep and melodious when he chose to speak, carried a husky undertone that hinted at deeper emotions masked by layers of bravado.

[chlerc]

position rose ; charles leclerc

— summary; in which Charles shows up to his apartment with a bouquet of flowers in hand for you, and he realise that it is not just some sort of benign gesture. Will he finally see that it should have been you all along?

pairing — charles leclerc x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 2301.

content — friends to lovers, f. reader is a football player wow! Mason Mount cameo because I’m a loyal Chelsea fan and he did show up at Monaco Grand Prix 2022, praying he’s there this year. P.s she loves slapping his ass, what would Charles do with the bouquet of roses for you? Celebrate a pole position together.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: in honour of Charles home race weekend nearing its date and Barça champions of Laliga title! also does anyone know how to indent paragraphs

IF CHARLES HAD KNOWN better, the last thing he’d do was to invite her to the Formula 1 Grand Prix De Monaco 2023. Not when she’s right there sitting on his bed, in her jersey with his name and number printed to the back of her football club; it was the custom shirt she had gotten him when she first signed with the club. The athletic shorts clinging onto her thighs didn’t aid him either.

“You’re actually insane if you think I’m gonna let you wear that to any of my races this week. Shit, blue isn’t even our colour, Tesorino.” He complains, mumbling the last sentence out as if he was totally against the idea of her in those tight shorts. “You literally just flew me in from my hotel in Madrid after a match, didn’t say shit about bringing me here to watch the race, Charles. I thought I would have stayed at home to watch because of our schedule clash.”

He kept silent and winced on his part, she wasn’t completely off about that and the fact that he didn’t inform her of it. To be fair, she had known that he had a race this weekend and he would have definitely flown her in. Charles made it a promise to be at every match of hers, if he could and this was one of the matches he couldn’t attend. Not seeing her would kill him either way, it’s a win-win situation.

“Eh but you did win though, a goal and two assists. I’m doing you a favour by letting you recharge by watching me!” He threw her a Ferrari team shirt and black shorts her way as much as he loved seeing her in her own colours, this certainly wasn’t a time for it. “Anyways, why do you have another printed replica of the jersey you got me? Scared you’ll miss me that much huh?”

Rolling her eyes at him as she walked past him, his shirt and shorts in a hand, the other slapping him on his ass. “You need to stop doing that whenever you walk past me! What if they got it on camera? The next thing you’d see is FC Barcelona Femeni Player, Y/n caught slapping Formula One Driver, Charles Leclerc on the ass.” He eyed her as she made her way towards the bathroom.

Shit, he loves her curves of softness. With the muscle of a footballer and those damn thighs, she was the most astonishing girl he had ever met. She had safe eyes, perhaps that's the best way to say it. She had a beauty that made those billboard-princesses look as paper thin as they are, she was something robust and real. That was his girl, it was her before she was his and it was her all of her days.

He knew he shouldn’t be thinking of his best-friend in that light, but growing up with her and watching her mature into what she is today didn’t help. “You’d love that though wouldn’t you? On the front cover newspaper in the sports section and top hashtag on twitter’s trending, that’d certainly boost your Spotify stats and Instagram followers!” She calls from the bathroom, and he pictures her sly smirk on her face.

Yeah fuck, if he wouldn’t love being seen with her although their friendship was already widely known. A shriek escapes her when she runs out of the bathroom, phone in her hand and looking all star struck. “No one told me he would be here!” She shoves her phone up in his face, the Instagram story of Mason Mount by the McLaren garage.

“Mi Tesoro, you literally played against Chelsea’s Women's team in the Champions League recently. Why are you acting all fangirl over him? You didn’t even seem excited to see me by my garage, in my race suit if I must add.” His jaw twitches, watching her bounce around him. “It’s different, I see you almost everyday but I only see him on the pitch when he plays.” Charles hums in response, if that’s what keeps her going then he’s not going to stop it.

“He’s stopping by the Ferrari garage later, I invited him over just because I’m a Chelsea fan too, don’t think I’m doing this just for you.” He watches her jaw drop open and curve up, looking at him as if he hung the stars up for her. But fuck he barely even supported Chelsea, he had never watched a premier league match live even when he was in Silverstone for the race. Well, if that’s what it takes for her to look at him, he wouldn’t mind inviting any Footballers she loves to any other race.

Charles is starting to question if everything he does was for the sake of her smile. The type of smile that reaches his bones, the type of smile that extends to her eyes as the sides crinkles and her dimples on display. “Quit looking at me like that, we have to go if you wanna see your favourite boy on the track and I have a qualifying session to get to.”

“No, you’re my favourite boy for doing this for me.” And there’s a slap to his ass before he knew it, a strangled groan evades his lips as he slips on the Ray-Ban shades. “Will not be doing this for you anymore if you keep slapping my ass, that habit needs to go.” Charles watches as she runs past him, loving the way she donned his team shirt and pants so perfectly that it made him feel something, just a little.

There’s a bounce in her steps when she walks out of the lobby of his apartment, the sun set in the sky as fresh colours brushed upon an artist’s canvas, as if those rays were destined to create a great work of art. The rays dawned upon her, her tan skin illuminated in the hues and Charles watched as she turned around with his cap covering her face from the sunlight.

There was a softness to her appearance, a kind of warmth married to a shyness. “You seem awfully excited about the qualifying session and I wonder why.” He flicks his cap, sauntering past her as they enter the garage, where her eyes had already landed on the English footballer for Chelsea. “You have fun with him, I need to get ready.” Charles bends to leave a peck on her cheek, something he had always done before qualifying or the featured race, he thinks she’s good luck for him.

His fingers hesitated on clicking the Whatsapp icon on his phone and to open the chat with his younger brother. Once in a lifetime thing, it’s now or never and he fears he might never have the balls to do this again.

charles: get me a bouquet of roses on the way here would you?

arthur: lol for y/n? finally getting some pussy aren’t you? 😁

charles: shut up mate, just get them :)

arthur: 👍 but if you fuck it up with her, you’ll lose me as well.

arthur: dude i don’t even know how you got a barça player as your best-friend. 

charles: wtf picking my best-friend over your own brother?

charles: she was my best-friend before she became a barça player…

arthur: our best-friend and good luck for quali.

charles: yeah thanks, will do my best.

He shuts his phone off, walking out of his room in his race suit, the custom helmet for his home race in his hand. Greeted by the sight of his best-friend ogling at the footballer beside her with her headset on as he made a beeline towards her. “Hey, nice to finally meet you. Big fan, hoping the team does better next season though.” He pulls Mason in for a hug, a pat on the back before pulling away. “You head back to our home right after qualifying okay? I have a debrief and stuff, it's gonna take a long while.”

“Mhm yeah sure, good luck. Cheering for you always.” She mumbles into the crook of his neck, ruffling his hair before pushing him towards his car. He staggered from the impact of the push and threw a glare her way but never could he get angry at her. Not now or ever.

Sitting in the cockpit with his foot on the throttle, pushing flat out on the last straight before crossing the line with his last attempt of Q3, only two things on his mind. Pole position and roses. Fuck he didn’t even know what he was thinking with the roses. And before he knew it, the static noise from the radio broke his train of thoughts. “And P1, good job Charles.”

His heart was at ease clinching the pole position for his home race, hoping it’d go as smoothly as the featured race tomorrow. One thing off his mind now, the other thing weighed slightly heavier on his shoulders. He’s turning 26 this year, surely asking a girl out would be no challenge for him.

Charles pranced his way towards Max and Carlos, it was a Ferrari front row lockout for the weekend’s qualifying session. Sure he’d love to stick around and celebrate with the team, but not when his prize was right at home waiting for him. “Great work today Carlos, hopefully it goes as well tomorrow.” He clasps the Spaniard by the hand, pulling him for a hug as they make their way towards the Ferrari garage.

“Your flowers, remember don’t fuck it up.” Arthur shoves the bouquet of roses into the right hand of Charles, his left holding on the Pirelli Pole Position tyre. “Charles, I see you finally making a move on the Barça player eh? Good luck mate.” He’s taking the chance to tease Charles, but whatever it takes for Y/n. “Thanks, you’re a Real Madrid fan though, Carlos. Not sure if luck is needed from a Madrid fan…”

He’s in his room, swiftly changing out of his race suit into the team’s attire and attending the quick debrief with the team before leaving the garage. The strides he takes are huge, the roses in his clammy hands, the rapid beating of his heart blaring at his ears. Hell he wasn’t even this nervous during races or qualifying sessions.

Charles is met with the button of the elevator up to his apartment where his best-friend would be sitting on the couch, awaiting him to have dinner together. The elevator was a plain silver box with plain silver buttons and plain silver doors, something he took every day yet it has never felt as confined and as cramped as it was now. Not when his anxiety was eating him alive, everything he had waited for was right in front of him when the elevator doors opened.

The door unlocks with a simple reading of his fingerprint and he sees his favourite girl jumping off the couch and running towards him. Her eyes glued onto the bouquet of roses in his hands, her eyebrows cocking up at the sight. “Which fangirl got this for you?” She nudged him by the elbow, taking a seat on the couch like she was earlier. “Eh, it’s for you.” He hands her the bouquet, craning his neck away from her gaze. “For me? What’s the occasion, or is this some roses your fan girl got you and you give it to me as a donation.”

“No I got it for you, technically I asked Arthur to get it for me so I could give it to you. Anyways, I wouldn’t give you what my fans gave me, are you crazy?” He’s rambling and it’s so absolutely adorable, it’s the fact that he doesn’t know he’s only rambling when he’s nervous but she picked up on his mannerism anyways. “Mhm, thanks Charles. Congrats on the pole today, you were flying out there.”

She rises to her feet, leaving a chaste kiss on his cheek, her arms wrapped around his waist. His heart beating so rapidly and loudly, he’s afraid she might be able to hear it with her head resting against his chest in their stance. This wasn’t just a benign gesture like he thought it’d be, it’s literally a whole love confession.

“I don’t know how to put this but I think I’m in love with you. Okay, maybe not I think but more like I’ve been in love with you for a while now. I don’t think you ever realised how I’ve never been in a relationship, like hell I could have gotten anyone I wanted but it was you I was waiting for, for a long time now if you don’t see it. If you’re willing to give me a chance, I would love to make you the happiest girl alive. So, what do you say? Can I please be your boyfriend, mi tesoro?”

His fingers running through her caramel strands, calms him down a little at her stillness and quietness. “Say something baby, please don’t keep me in suspense.” He’s pleading, and never has he pleaded for anything or anyone. “I don’t know what took you so long to realise the same thing, Charles.”

“Took me Mason Mount and seeing you in my team’s shirt over and over again to realise that.” There’s a huge grin on his face, the deep happiness in the well of his dimples, those dimples that showed her the way home.

“I’d like to thank my brother for the so-so motivational ted talk of choosing you over me if I messed this confession up. I love you, you’re the best-friend I could ever ask for and I promise to be the best boyfriend ever.”

[imperatorrrrr]

hashtag relax, hashtag recharge, hashtag reload

[savelockwoodandco]

It's Sunday (July 9th), so here's the coming week's hashtags!

This week we'll see the 2-month mark after cancellation (Wednesday the 12th of July), and we've done wonderfully these last two months! Remember, in the grand scheme of things, two months is nothing at all. Take some time to refresh, recharge, and let's keep fighting the good fight! Good things are coming!

[ask-a-bot]

Are all the Terran kids there or is it just Twitch and Thrash??

They're all here, but only Twitch and Thrash know about this page. I think Dorothy is trying to keep them off of it.

There's a SM page? Cool!

Hashtag, you are supposed to be recharging, young one.

Sleep is for the weak! Besides, I saw your light on and thought you might want company.

I do not want you to get sick. Please, go and recharge.

Hey! Can I join? I brought cookies!

Grrhh...! Jawbreaker, I have just told Hashtag to go and recharge. You should... what kind of cookies?

Mercury, iron and cobalt?

I shall take one. But it is after midnight and you should be recharging.

We got hungry!

Well, you may eat a cookie each and then off to berth.

OK.

[minniethemoocherda]

After All is Said and Done

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR EARTHSPARK!

Summery: "Please tell me I wasn't this bad when I was a sparkling." Bumblebee sighed. "No. You were a lot worse." Optimus teased.

ao3

Bumblebee was exhausted by the time they got back to the Malto farm. And it wasn't all due to the battle with Mandroid.

On the way he'd had to stop Jawbreaker from adopting the raccoon that seemed to follow them everywhere, Hashtag from fighting an inflatable wavy arm man and Nightshade from trying to chat up the non-sentient speed train. And now, despite the dark of dusk creeping over the horizon, the new young Terrans were in no rush to get some recharge, having started a game of hot cube with Twitch and Thrash, whilst using the human children as hot cubes.

Bumblebee collapsed onto the bed of hay, keeping one optic on the Terrans through the open barn doors. He felt the warm chuckle of Optimus' baritone as the Prime sat on the haystacks besides him.

"Please tell me I wasn't this bad when I was a sparkling." Bumblebee sighed.

"No. You were a lot worse." Optimus teased. His gaze was also on the choas outside but Bumblebee didn't think that it was the Malto children that his former mentor was seeing. "Do you remember when you trapped yourself in our rust stick cabinet? I worried that the Deceptions had kidnapped you."

Bumblebee groaned at the memory. He'd barely been a vorn old and had wanted more of the treats Ratchet had given him when Optimus had first brought him to the Arc. He'd managed to break open the supply cabinet in Rachet's medbay, only for door to lock itself when it swung shut behind him. Not wanting to face Optimus disappointment he'd stayed hidden for the next few jors until Ratchet eventually opened the cabinet again. Elita later called it his first scouting adventure. Although the stomache ache from surviving off rust sticks for jors hadn't been worth it. Neither had the guilt when he had grown old enough to understand the consequences of eating their ration supplies.

Bumblebee was glad at least that the new Terrans wouldn't have to worry about rations. At the dimming of Optimus' optics, Bumblebee guessed that the Prime had probably had a similar train of thought.

"Stop." Bumblebee told him.

"I'm not doing anything." Optimus replied in that polite mask he used when talking to politicians.

"No but you're thinking it so don't. It's not your fault I was born in a warzone. You did the best you could. So don't appologise for it because I will only ever be grateful."

"It is because of me that there was a war for you to be born into." Optimus sighed, but Bumblebee wasn't going to let him drown himself in unneeded guilt again. He tugged at the big bots arm, forcing Optimus to look at him.

"Hey, it's thanks to you that the Terrans weren't. Besides it was Megatron who striked first. You were the one who fought back. And no matter how long we debate over who started the war, everyone knows that you were the one who ended it."

The light returned to Optimus optics as he gazed down at him.

"How did you grow to he so wise?" Optimus asked.

Bumblebee shrugged, letting go of Optimus' arm.

"Well, I did learn from the best."

"Don't forget, after a battle like that it important to recharge. Rest, I will watch over the Terrans." Optimus said, wrapping an arm around Bumblebee and tucked him against his side.

At the sight of Optimus' smile Bumblebee couldn't hide back his own grin. It had been a long time since he had seen Optimus smile like that. It warmed his spark to be the one to cause it. Even if the moment was slightly ruined by his sudden yawn.

Although for some reason it seemed to make Optimus' smile grow even larger.

And for the first time since he was a sparking, Bumblebee let the beat of his mentor's spark lull himself to sleep.

[monocle-teacup]

I know it's too early to tell, but I have a strong feeling that Season 2 isn't going to affect my AU whatsoever. Unless there's something new involving Mandroid of course.

Right off the bat in my AU: -GHOST still exists with Schloder as the new leader who's making strides to make the organization not so shady. -The Emberstone is dormant and in need of recharging. -Hashtag still has her surveillance van altmode -Robby and Mo aren't important

[pizzaintheuk]

Hey again thank you for all the likes I'm shocked people love my headcannons and mini story so enjoy this one.

This is set when hashtag invited Starscream to another family event however it does not go to plan.

Once a week Starscream will get a message from Hashtag invited him to another one of them family events. Normally, Starscream will not respond to these silly events however, it's been a month and his mind was going to dark places so going to see Hashtag will help clear his mind for a bit.

Starscream will never land at the location but a few miles away so doesn't make much noise. Once he lands in a near by forest Starscream will slowly walk up to the Malto's household.

Getting near to the location he can hear laughing and something moving around. This make Starscream wondering what going on. Lowering his body and hiding near a big rock he can see the children and terrens playing a game with a ball of some sort.

It was heart warming from where Starscream can see. Everyone playing together and just enjoying eachother company. The adults were sitting at the side watching out drinking some weird liquid.

It made Starscream reflect when he was young born as a cold construction was never allowed to have "fun". His duty from the start was traveling to different areas of Cybertron to protect an area or someone. The only time he was free was when his boss let them recharge.

Starscream remember watching the "spark" Cybertronian walking freely, chatting away with their friends and allowing to express themselves. It made him wished he can be like them but also remember the cruel comments when doing his duty.

Some examples were...

"Go back to your factory where you was born"

"They are not normal"

"Can they be weird somewhere else"

"We don't have any space for these clones"

This make Starscream want to lash out at something. It was not his fault born as a low class, a clone someone who whole point in living is to work. Starscream wanted to be someone to be remember...like how Hashtag was willing to invite him to event or message to see if he alright. Hashtag was willing to listen to a second hand low class robot about his worries.

These little things Hashtag does for Starscream has really effected him. It tells that he not scarp, who can be wanted and there is someone who care for his spark.

Suddenly a loud "bang" sound stopping Starscream from thinking. It also stop the game because the sound came from Hashtag kicking the ball too hard which hit Twitch in the face.

A low booming voice saying "What going on here?" The voice came from the only robot Starscream does not want to go near.... Megatron.

Megatron slowly walk up to Twitch to see if she was alright. She was crying and pointed at Hashtag which got Megatron looking at her. Starscream panic Megatron wouldn't dare harm a child...would he?

Past memories came flooding into his brain of Megatron grabbing his neck when Starscream done something wrong. He remember not done anything to upset his "Master" other than being arm reach to be Megatron punching bag.

Starscream has to do something fast as Megatron was walking slowly to Hashtag. Using his thrusters Starscream dash away from his hidden spot to go between "master" and his only friend. Quickly transform one hand into a saw and the other arm aim the ray gun towards Megatron.

"Don't you dare go anywhere near her!" He shouted.

Ready to attack.

Ready to project the only person who care.

To be continue???

Thankyou again for the likes. If you want me to continue let me know if not I don't mind people message me of different event they want me to explore.

Thankyou again for the likes. If you want me to continue let me know if not I don't mind people message me of different event they want me to explore.

[djhashtageditz]

Has anyone noticed that when Hashtag had a flashback, instead of it being mandroid taunting her, it was her fight her siblings which means she was also fully aware of the damage she was causing. (The fact that Twitch and Thrash were fighting may have triggered it reminding her of how she fought her siblings)

(And yes I’m back, here were other things on my mind)

Hartop (and Brawl) ain’t getting their arms back.

The first control badge Grim has worked differently, Mandroid wasn’t the one completely controlling him (Thrash said time out and he stopped, this didn’t work for any other character who was controlled) and since it worked differently his eyes may have stayed blue and not turned white.

Hashtag being able to control the doors in the tunnel could be for different reasons (I know some will say that it’s near ghost and she can control ghost but I don’t think that’s the case, the lights are green and the tunnels were under the cave where the Terrans would recharge plus the fact that the tunnel lights did turn red for the other Terrans and didn’t react at all for the seekers). I mostly think it’s the fact that how distant she felt from her siblings, not being connected anymore and they didn’t get what she felt at that moment. At the end she said something of the lines of “we will get through this together”. And since she felt so distant, she would be the one being able to control these doors so all the Maltos would get through this together (oh and the fact that she doesn’t have weapons to defend herself might also play a role in this).

Mandroid may not be dead, of course we see him die but we saw all of the transformers die and then brought back, also he didn’t disintegrate like Karen Croft. Also the fact that we do see characters who may look like they’re dead but aren’t (nova storm in ep 17, starscream in ep 16 the flashback, mandroid in ep 10).

[shotimus]

I wish you would write a fic where... Starscream and Soundwave spend some quality time with their little family <3

Got the perfect idea that I've had in my head for awhile~.

How Soundwave had talked Starscream into a movie night, he would never know.

Actually, it had been Frenzy's idea. The femme wouldn't shut up about having some sort of family night. The idea nearly repulsed Starscream, reminding him of Hashtag and how she would go on and on about the 'Malto Family Game Nights' she would participate in every single Friday.

She'd only invited him 27 times now, and to each request he promptly said no.

It had taken Soundwave butting in to get Starscream to give into this movie night idea, but he still wasn't thrilled about it. Human media was so primitive and boorish. In fact, they couldn't come up with a single original idea without rehashing something else. He left the decision making to Soundwave and his cassettes, grumbling as he walked back toward his makeshift berthroom - the one he shared with adopted sparkling, Nightshroud.

Soundwave might not have directly invited her erring on the side of caution given the femme's distrust of him and his cassettes, but that didn't mean Starscream was going to just leave her out of the 'grand family event'. She might not actually be a sparkling, but she was certainly old enough to decide for herself what she did and did not want to do. Just as he was, Nightshroud wasn't entirely certain if she wanted to attend.

"I'll leave that decision up to you, little dove. I won't force you to spend time with them if you do not wish to, but you can always just sit with me if you decide to."

"Maybe.."

Before he knew it, it was time for the movie night. Soundwave and his cassettes had built a makeshift pillow fort with what they could make do with around the abandoned military instillation they'd made camp in. Starscream, in his reluctance to contribute to the setup, had at the very least brought along spare energon cubes, rust sticks and jelly cubes for their consumption.

"Pray tell, what are you forcing me to watch," demanded the seeker.

"Like I'm just gonna tell you, Screamy! You've gotta have the need. The need fo-"

"TOP GUN," interrupted Soundwave, causing Frenzy to pout angrily.

"Soundwave, you ruined my joke!"

Starscream sat down on the floor with a growl next to the Spymaster as the cassettes all climbed onto the blue mech. He knew not what this 'Top Gun' was or why it was the toppest of guns, and truthfully he didn't care. He was just going to be cranky while they enjoyed this family.

Most of the family, anyway.

It was roughly 15 minutes into the movie that the seeker caught movement from around the corner, spotting a glimpse of the crimson femme peeking out. It was enough to get him out of his sour mood, smiling in her direction as he quietly patted the floor beside himself; silently telling Nightshroud it was okay to sit with him. Hesitantly she came over, but she made it quick to make her presence less noticeable. She curled up against her adoptive sire while he wrapped an arm around her, offering her jelly cubes as a sweet reward for doing her best.

Within half the runtime Soundwave and Starscream were the only ones still awake. The cassettes had passed out within mere minutes, and Nightshroud had managed to stay awake the longest. Starscream carefully stroked the femme's helm with his servo, glancing to Soundwave.

"Should we do this again, I pick the film. This film bored the young ones to recharge."

"AFFIRMATIVE."