#interface is really clean and nice

[lokis-wager]

Finally switched to YouTube Music instead of Spotify. Uh. Why is this better in basically every way?

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cleaning services (perv!Konig x fem!cleaner!Reader)

Konig needs help in decluttering and cleaning his house. Unfortunately for you, he takes quite a huge liking in having pretty things like you around. And he isn't very nice about it.

TW: Perverted Konig, age gap, Konig masturbates at you without consent, implied kidnapping, yandere Word count: 3754 This work on AO3

There is no shame in having a professional cleaner, König tries to tell himself. 

Yes, he is a grown man with a very dangerous job that requires having a lot of responsibility. He holds the lives of his soldiers in his hands and risks his life every day not for the sake of his country, but certainly for the sake of his wallet and the reputation of KorTac. 

Hiring a professional cleaner for his house shouldn’t make him feel humiliated and embarrassed, and he knows it. Cleaners are basically like soldiers – doing stuff that other people can’t for a certain amount of money, providing services for the clients who can afford it. Besides, it’s a support of his local community – after everything he took from the people around his town, it’s only natural that he would support this growing business of cleaning services. 

There is no shame in having some nice old lady cleaning his house and watching over it while he is too busy trying not to kill himself or drown his head in liquor after a particularly rough mission. When you lose two guys on a run that was supposed to be the quickest task possible when you’re returning home with an injury that isn’t really that serious but brings your whole mental state into a very dark place, and when you’re forced to take 3 weeks of leave in the place you hate, hiring a cleaner to take care of everything really shouldn’t make him so ashamed of himself. 

Even if he can clean his space – the house is just too big for only one of him, and his ribs still have this funny feeling of fantom bullets traveling around his guts. So, he dials up the number of the cleaning services because he is too fucking old to understand their weird website and messenger ordering, even though speaking with a human operator on the other half of the line is somewhat more humiliating that having no idea of how to use a modern interface. 

There is no shame in asking for help, his therapist is trying to shrill it in his head all of the time and yet he is still hesitant when the cleaning professional is knocking on his door, finding this place surprisingly fast. König braces himself, thinking about all the ways he could avoid having a conversation – he drew a quick map of the place, put down the room cleaner shouldn’t be entering – his gun safe, mostly, already repeated in his head how he would greet them and swiftly extract himself from the situation. 

“Guten Tag, please, come in. This is the map of the place, don’t go to the red door on the right, don’t hesitate to ask questions, I will be on the second floor.” He takes a few wide, swift steps to his door and stops. Thinks again, overthinking, thinking too fucking much about everything, anxiously checking on his phone to read the message that yes, his cleaner is here and he should probably open the door or they would burst down the window. “Guten Tag, come in. Map of the place is here, don’t go to the red door to the right, please hesitate to ask questions, I will be somewhere around the house, lurking in the shadows” He braces himself to open the door, ready to see that sweet old lady who would spend the next 8 hours cleaning his house and then turn back another day to rinse and repeat until his house stopped looking like a place where a very, very miserable man lives. (Even if this is true) 

But, there isn’t a nice old lady with a bunch of cleaning supplies and determination to make someone’s life easier. 

But, there isn’t a cold middle-aged woman with a very professional no-nonsense attitude who wouldn’t even talk to him before going straight to work. 

But, there is a young girl. Well, not a girl, of course, if he had to guess you were somewhere around the “Too fucking young, but definitely legal” spectrum. Young enough to not be alive when he was already going to school, young enough to make him sweat, and definitely not old enough to be accepting a job where you’d have to spend so much of your life cleaning and scrubbing and sorting and…

There isn’t anything shameful in ordering a cleaning service when you genuinely need it, but you’re young and you’re pretty and he isn’t even wearing a mask because he is an old dumbass that forgot about it, and you look at him with your shiny eyes and…

Maybe, he should clean on his own – would definitely be less shameful. 

— Sir? H…hello? Good morning? Can you hear me? 

Yes, he can hear you. 

Yes, he would love to hear you every single day of his life, when he wakes up and when he falls asleep. 

— Ja. I apologize, I…thought it was mail. 

It’s a dumb excuse, but he can’t really say that he was just too fucking mesmerized by your shiny eyes and perfect hair and nice figure and basically everything about you. He has this nasty habit of imagining a future with people around him – with people who just fucking want to be left alone, and yet he still stares and looks and it’s probably ultra uncomfortable for them – but he can’t help imagining the life with every cute lady in the grocery shop or elegant lady sitting next to him on a train. 

He has a pattern – people who are not interested in him in the slightest. He has a pattern, a preference, cute girls, smart girls, popular ladies that were never even so much as looking in his direction. He could probably score someone now, having a colonel’s salary and honorably discharged payments, but he gave up on trying to find anyone. He has friends, company, has work where he spent most of his life anyway – he doesn’t need anyone, he wants to think. 

Then you waddle into his life with a bunch of cleaning supplies and a small vacuum, barely able to handle everything in your hands. He rushes to help and envelops your hands with his – you are so much smaller in comparison, he has bear-like arms and horribly big everything. he feels awkward when he gently removes everything from your arms – when he tries to help by simply putting everything on the table of the next room. 

König hated this house – it was big, it was empty, and the only reason he didn’t sell it was because Mother’s things were still locked in her old bedroom and every time he tried to clean it and evaluate the cost of the house, he decided that he will Do It Other Day. Coincidentally, all of those days were also followed by three-month minimum missions, making him utterly unable to do everything about this place anyway. 

This is why you’re here – a hired cleaner, a sorter, you promised to de-hoard everything and see if there is anything of value. Perfect for someone like him, especially since he is paying you double for spending the whole day and a few days more in his house exclusively. 

Now, he looks at how awkward your smile is, how you fidget with the edge of the broom you brought, and how you can’t even start a conversation because he is simply staring at you, staying in the living room of this dead, almost abandoned house. Now, he looks at how cute you are, how perfect, and remembers that he didn’t score with anyone in half a year already – not even in terms of sex, the casual flirting was also forbidden since half of his unit was transferred and the new people weren’t really fun of his tough methods of breaking rookies in. 

When was the last time someone genuinely smiled at him? 

Ah, he is staring again. Scheisse. 

— Where do you want me to start, sir? 

He wonders how much he should pay you to clean him instead. Would you be gentle? Rough? Would you call him a pervert, which he is, and then slap him and yell at him for being such a horrible old dog who is ready to pounce at every pretty girl in his presence? He would do anything that would set his mind free of the thought about Mom. Her bedroom. This whole house that he can’t call home ever since he turned 6 and understood why Father was always so, so angry. 

— The living room. If it’s not too much. 

He barely stops himself from talking more – you look weird, you loom surprised, you look at him like he is fucking stupid and, in fact, he is. Of course, it wouldn’t be too hard for you, you’re his clean, for fucks sake. You come here to clean, you get good money for it, he shouldn’t feel guilty for using your services because, in some way, he actually provides you with a job and a cute thing like you shouldn’t go to other houses, with old perverts that can do unspeakable things with the adorable worker. 

Ah, yes, perverts like him. God, he is hopeless. 

— Alright. Do you want to note something, like if there is anything I shouldn’t touch? 

He would allow you to take your adorable, yellow glow-wearing hands to get into his personal savings and all of his bank accounts, if you’d want to. He curses under his breath, hating how professional you are – hard worker, perfect, simply a fantastic person who deserves more than working for him. You aren’t trying to shy away from the job and he almost resents you for it. 

You’d make a good soldier, he thinks – you’re able to hear the orders and oblige to them, you’re obedient and came even before the discussed time. You’d make such a perfect private for his unit, he observes. 

Ah, right, he was supposed to answer you. Shit. 

— No. Just don’t go to the second room on the left. 

— Alright. Anything else? 

He grumbles under his breath, trying to get into the right headspace to deal with someone like you. König knows it’s rude, to just ignore and leave you like this – but if he were to stay in he same room as you, he would do something horrible, disgusting, and completely dishonorable to you. So, he leaves – escapes – to his office. Father’s office, mostly, the only thing here that belongs to him are some documents and useless papers – and a laptop that he drags to every other room anyway. 

He doesn’t like this room, it reminds him of the worst episodes of his early childhood – yet, this is his only reserve. He doesn’t want to leave the house because the territory is secluded and if something were to happen to you, he would be the only one able to help. He also doesn’t want to leave his gun collection with you – he doesn’t want you to find it and freak out or hurt yourself. 

This is what he tells himself, at least. He wants to be there with you, in the same room preferably, but horrible for his anxiety, because he wants this illusion, phantasm of having a loving relationship. Of having a woman in his life, a lovely housewife who would cook for him, clean for him, and would be absolutely spoiled with gifts and attention. God knows he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body – but he will carve one out of his ribs for you. 

And he only knew you for an hour tops. 

König feels like literally the worst man alive when he spread his legs and starts stroking his hard, glistening cock. He brushes over the swollen, red tip, not allowing himself to have any lube other than spit and oozing pre-cum – he tries not to cum embarrassingly quickly, thinking about your perfect gestures and smiling face. How perfect you look in your cleaning uniform – not like maids from the occasional porn he was watching, but still beautiful. Your body is perfect even with all of those ugly layers and grey fabric – and he can’t stop thinking about the sway of your hips or glimpses of your legs under your dress.

He thinks about you, bent over his couch, trying to clean the especially dirty spot on the furniture – how the material of your dress would be tight around your ass. The image makes him grunt quietly, stroking his barely wet dick even more – the pain from the dry sensation only makes the pleasure all the sweeter. He is hard, was hard for the past 10 minutes as you were introducing yourself and whatever your deal is. He is dirty, perverted, knowing only your name and your face – and he is still stroking himself, thinking about paying you extra just so you’d get on your pretty knees and suck him. Would you be sloppy, messy, get his cum all over your face so you’d have to wash it off? Would you be experienced, eager, trying to get as much seed as possible with that pretty tongue of yours? 

He is a lost cause because he hears the sounds of vacuum – you’re only a few rooms away from him, trying so hard to clean his house for him, to work through every bit of furniture and everything he acquired for the past twenty years or so – and he moans loudly, knowing that you don’t hear anything. You’re probably listening to music or some silly girl’s podcast about planets and gardens and maybe some university lectures. He’d pay for your courses, he would get you any book you want – having his salary and barely spending it made him softer in the saving habits. 

He can afford to splurge on a pretty girl who just needs a rich Austrian mercenary to sweep her off her feet. But, he is old – but, he is a monster who preys on someone helpless, using her pretty face to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t even deserve your number, although he has had it since accepting the service. 

His cock is big, angry red in his hand as he runs his finger over the bulging vein, teasing the sensitive flesh – always loud in bed, with grunts and moans of pleasure, he can barely contain himself now, only forcing his mouth shut when he doesn’t hear the sound of vacuum anymore. He strokes his dick fast, angry, and slams it into his fist, trying to make the pain last longer, so he won’t cum after a minute or two. He has the stamina to last longer – but it’s also the first time he was so horny since…he can’t even remember. 

König thinks about putting you in his bed – like a perfect housewife, you would hug his waist with your legs, would allow him to lick and grope at your tits, and won’t scream too much when he’d force his tongue inside of your precious pussy, taking every last drop of your pleasure. He wouldn’t want to be forceful, angry, you’re too precious for this and too weak for his strength – but he can imagine slamming into you in a matting press, cumming inside and not even pulling out, warming his cock in the heat of your body. 

Father would kill him for doing something so dirty in his office – but he is long dead, devil save his soul, and it’s König’s office now. Even when he barely uses it, even if he doesn’t really need this. It came in handy when he had to jerk off to the pretty cleaning girl who cleaned up after him – so, somehow, his father managed to improve his mood 15 years after he died. 

He cums with a low groan, whispering your name – he doesn’t understand how a pretty thing like you still works here and wasn’t taken by someone else already, but he would take what he can get. Never the one to get the first dibs, never being someone’s first choice – he feels terrible for thinking about you in such a low way, but his pleasure sticks to his fingers and, at this point, it’s too late to feel bad. 

Drying the tip of his dick with a tissue, he spends a good few minutes with spread legs, his soft cock laying on the chair, with cum still oozing out – such a waste, honestly, would be much better to stuff you full of his cock or even take your pretty ass, spread you slowly. Keep only the tip in, not pressuring you into anything more until you’d start moving yourself, like a good slut you will be. 

So perfect under him – the images and sounds of your voice are running through his mind, making him breathe heavily. If he was younger and had as much sex drive as before, he would already be hard – but he needs some time to relax, thinking about your pretty legs and adorable face. 

It takes him a few minutes of listening to your sweet voice to understand that you were not, in fact, a hallucination or a mystical fairy coming to make him come. You were standing outside of the office door, looking embarrassed and clearly hearing at least some of his horny mumblings – you avoid looking at him, and your fingers are trembling when you tug at the sides of your dress. Guilt immediately rushes to him again, he looks at you like a perfect treasure you are – and he is a horrible monster trying to hoard all of it to himself. 

— What is it, liebling? 

Petname goes smoothly from his tongue and he can only hope that you don’t know German – he is too embarrassed to talk to you, too anxious, his newfound shyness is a result of both your beauty and the post-nut clarity that already made him feel like a monster. He contemplates just giving you money and sending you off, paying double for the false call, and leaving you a 5-star review so you won’t get in trouble with your boss. 

You look so meek from his angle of view – he has to fight the urge to pinch your face, squeeze your cheeks, grab your waist in his firm hands, and just lift you in his arms, holding you to his bed. Maybe getting a nice set of cuffs to ensure you would never escape from him. 

— I finished with the living room and…well, I just wanted to ask if you want the decluttering work to be done today or tomorrow. 

He remembers how he basically paid you for a few days worth of work – and he smiles at exactly how perfect this decision was. Of course, you are a smart girl, a modest girl, you aren’t staying the night and would rather waste time on the road, much to his dismay, but at least he would see you for a few days already. 

He might not even let you go after. 

— Ach. Today, if it’s not too…

He stops himself again – of course, it’s not too much, you are a professional, not just a friend that comes to clean his place for a pack of beer and maybe some pizza. He doesn’t know how to talk to you, anxiety eats him whole, and he has to just avoid looking at you to avoid further embarrassment. 

— Alright. I will do it right away then. 

You smile awkwardly, your lips are twitching and he already knows that you could hear him moaning your name and sweet little praises while stroking his cock. You aren’t biting the hand that feeds you, not running away screaming at how perverted he is – poor girl, you probably need money more than you need personal safety if you’re fine with him heaving like this. If you were his, he would never allow you to be so careless. 

He moves behind you in the most dreaded room of the house. Mother’s bedroom, a room that she only used for sewing and only allowed him in when he was extra whiny after another failed fight with his bullies. All of her thighs are here – ever since she passed away, he just moved everything to one room and locked it, barely bothering to keep a key. He hates being here, almost as much as being in Father’s office — this room smells like death and old paper and you scrunch your nose in an adorable expression when you take a step inside. 

— I will divide everything into categories, alright? 

— Gut.

You look at him nervously, clearly scared that he is watching over you now. It might feel like a logical decision – after all, it was his mother’s vintage things, who knows what kind of jewelry she kept here, something that he won’t even notice gone until it’s too late. You and him both know, however, that this isn’t the reason he is looming over you. A perfect obedient thing, you deserve something better than his affection, but he still locks his gaze with yours, looking at your hands and going through various furniture pieces. 

You work like a fairy, not an ounce of laziness or exhaustion in your actions – even after you already spent a few hours cleaning his living room, you act like a Cinderella that got a bunch of magic mice up her rags. He licks his lips, looking at your perfect ass you as sit on your knees, starting with decluttering every little box there is. 

— Can I just put it back in boxes or…

You look the the contents – vintage makeup, some jewelry, head pieces that don’t look particularly expensive but were definitely well-loved. You wonder who they belong to – probably a wife, or, maybe, some of his relatives who lived here. He doesn’t seem like a married or divorced man – he does, however, look insanely lonely. 

It takes him a good few seconds to respond, too mesmerized by the little song you were humming a minute before. He imagines you in that old, chunky jewelry, some necklaces that cost more than your salary – and the thought makes him salivate. 

He smiles, leaning closer to you – hot breath on your face, you shift immediately, scared. He is so fast for someone so big, his movements are perfect and his eyes are cold – you feel the chill deep in your bones when he moves even closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. 

Suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that he locked the door to this tiny room when you both moved in. 

[cyten0]

Dragonfable was a big influence, but would you recommend playing it now?

Yes, absolutely, positively, 100%.

The game is constantly getting updates. Like. Once a week. It's got a really neat world and story and just about everything if I'm being perfectly honest. ESPECIALLY for what you would expect from what started as a 2006 free-to-play flash game. Like. Leagues better. Hell, it's better then a lot of games out there.

And unlike other Artix entertainment titles, it focuses a lot on actually staying a good game, and not just chunking out new content meaninglessly. (Looks at AQW. I love you Elegy of Madness but you are trapped in such a shit game)

Fuck, I gotta rant about it a bit.

Okay, for starters, the devs clearly CARE about the game being nice to play. I mentioned it has weekly updates, but not all of those are new quests or stuff, but quality of life or balance changes to keep the game interesting and fun. Like, they are even going back and revamping the original questlines just to add a bit more polish, like adding music to stuff from before music was even in the engine, or cleaning up dialogue. They make nice interfaces to help you find your way around the story, they give exploration, they ease the player into the complexities of the battle system, ect.

And it's also very friendly in other ways. LGTBQ+ friendly, and they mean it. Pride stuff up always, gender changes easily accessible and including NB options (not body types YET but considering they would have to make a new variation for every single armor type in the game to do so I don't blame them). Very accepting, nice community from what I've seen, both in and out of studio.

And the story. GODS I love the story. And the world. You start out as a fairly classic hero, saving the world from the evil bad guy, with prophecy on your side (Kind of?), things are a lovely mix of serious and silly that hits just right.... And then, after you've won? It keeps going. Because the world wasn't magically fixed. Because the battle has consequences, on both you and the world. What was once a playground becomes obviously more serious BECAUSE you won. The world is fleshed out, always HAS been, but your character never payed attention to it before things fall apart and running along with prophecy and skill no longer cuts it.

And god that's not even going into the absolute JOY of how it handles it's tie in's with other games. You don't NEED to play the other games but... Short answer is that the game is technically a form of post apocalypse from the Sci-fi spacefaring game, because you RESET REALITY and you start Dragonfable technically thousands of years after that one, in a whole other reality, and THE INSTANT AFTER IT ENDED. All at once. And it's not entirely gone. It's kinda still there. And you... you were the hero of that one too, and you don't remember. (Or do you? some things feel... familiar...)

Also it's art SLAPS. Both it's visuals (a 2-d sidescrolling game on a small crew is normally hard to pull off but Dragonfable is fucking beautiful) and it's music. I use dragonfable music for Symphony in Crimson for a REASON. There's SO MUCH OF It, and it's a lovely music of royalty free stuff from good artists, and in house music made across the entire Artix entertainment studio. And 90% of the time, Dragonfable uses it the best, across the various games.

Now, it IS technically a free to play game. and that comes with some connotations. But uh. I've really never seen a game handle it better then them? Free version covers the entire story and 83% of the gameplay, the 'full' version is a one time $20 purchase, and it's paid currency is mostly for cosmetics. Honestly? I wouldn't be surprised if the game is barely kept afloat with how generous it is. You can beat endgame bosses without paying a penny.

Overall, Dragonfable is one of those games that... feels like it would have died out years ago. Or wouldn't be able to exist in the modern market. But it's not, it's still here, and better, and gives me just... that little bit of hope? for stories and games and everything.

And again. It's story and world is wonderful. I cannot recommend it enough.

[xarology]

Zzzt! - Transformers X Reader 18+

I saw a post on twitter about using shock collars on bots but instead of hurting them it does the exact opposite and makes them feel so good!!! and I had to run and write something down because oh my god!!!

Starscream snippet at the end :3c

General Headcanons

Though maybe instead of collars they’re located near their interface panels? I’d imagine a low dosage shock to them would be similar to a vibration.

If I were to really describe it, shocks are a numbing buzz that you can feel circulating throughout parts of your body. If in direct contact, you can feel the energy the most but it slowly dissipates through their body. So really these shock devices would be a cool edging tool to keep their focus on their interface panel.

But that’s with low dosage shocks. Higher dosages yield for crazier results!! If some bots are into masochism then maxing out the shocks is basically sending them to the gates of heaven (well of allsparks?). On a full dosage they’re able to feel the shock throughout their whole body and then some. It blanks their processors out and they’re left a horny mess. Would also be great for those who love dumbification as their processor would be left scrambled for a bit

There’s a risk factor if you’re human. Their tolerance is CRAZZYY so if you’re giving them a high amount and end up touching them then you’re dead for sure. This is such a risk I cannot stress this enough, please throw on some thick rubber elbow high gloves, boots, ANYTHING.

———

With no mass displacement, imagine,,,,

Leaving Starscream a whimpering mess.

His hands tied together on the berth as he jerks his hips up to find stimulation. The device is placed right above his spike on one of its highest settings, curtesy from you of course. You’re standing to the side a fair distance away from him. Close enough to see the details, yet far from danger.

The pace is too slow for his liking. He’s so used to a nice hard frag. So used to being the one to tease you. So used to having you underneath him as he ruts into you like an animal. He doesn’t have to wait and think about a growing ache in him as he frags your brains out. But with you in charge, he thinks.

Starscream is running with thoughts, working overtime to delete warnings and stupid pop ups that tell him to ‘overload or overheat’. He doesn’t want to admit it but he likes this torturous buzz. And so, he chooses to overheat. His fans do little to help him as the volts short circuit it over time. He’s left to manually cool himself through large intakes of air. Focused on trying to cool now, his processor is so full that it blanks. He’s left a mumbly whiny loud mess. His valve cycles around nothing and he wants nothing more than something to pound into him. To touch him, to do anything.

His thighs are squeezed together by the time you walk near them, no longer grinding against air as he lays somewhat still.

His thighs snap open, obscenely wide at your command to open them. Bright pink fluid drips from his valve, and lots of it.

Don’t move, you tell him. He scrapes his pedes against the berth as he tries to keep them planted away from you. He doesn’t want to hurt you but he can’t help it when his hips grind against your gloved hand on his node. He doesn’t want to hurt you but frag, does it feel good when your other hand enters his valve.

His babbling turns into whines as your hands move faster. Then rougher. And now he’s trying hard to not fall into stasis as he overloads. Your hand is dripping with fluid and you’re quick to leave him. His thighs close together and he can still feel himself overloading, the charge dripping onto the berth and making a pool near his aft.

He’s out like a light when you turn off the shock device. You’re left to clean him up while he recharges. His spark swelling when he wakes every so often to see you polishing him up!!

————

Tons of aftercare after all that I promise he’s getting the princess treatment

[transformers-spike]

https://www.tumblr.com/transformers-spike/776655807045599232/thinking-about-reader-hearing-a-noise-outside-in

Reader is super flirty once they realize he can talk. Really eager to get to know waspinator too. It’s jarring for him, because he’s pretty much just been on the run for a while? And yeah there’s BlackArachnia but she’s not exactly keeping him around because she wants to hang out y’know. So to have this squishy little creature seem really interested in him instead of like, screaming or hurt him is…nice. He’s probably anxious that they’re still going to call the Autobots on him, but that worry shrinks after multiple meetings. He’s not sure what possessed him to keep coming back after the human stopped leaving tech, maybe it’s just because they’re so nice to him and it’s nice to do something else outside of plot revenge on bumblebee.

Maybe it’s a result of his weird biology, maybe it’s an experiment gone wrong, but waspinator is dealing with something absolutely wracking his frame with horny and the need to be filled. He flies without thinking and ends up at readers place, panting and overheating in the little comfy area they’ve set aside for him. Reader comes out and finds him fingers deep into his valve, squirming and whining for release, so readers scuttles into their room and digs out their biggest, weirdest dildo to hook on to their strap on to help (they knew it would be helpful one day! Even if they can’t take much of it themselves!) Waspinator enthusiastically gives consent when he sees his squishy little thing (when did he start to consider this little creature his?) come running out with an interfacing aid strapped onto their hips. Obviously it’s not quite bot sized but getting that inside him and their soft little digits on his spike and node feels like heaven.

Reader is the most turned in they’ve ever been in their life, and Waspinator can smell how soaked they are, so once he’s properly overloaded his brains out he happily brings reader to his mouth to drink in their arousal himself, alongside cleaning all his lubricant off of them of course (no one’s ever put in the effort to find out he’s actually a squirter, even he didn’t know). There’s probably some talk to be had about this, but neither you nor him can walk properly and so instead you both just cuddle and pass out for a while.

GIVE WASPINATOR THAT LOVE - SOMEONE'S FINALLY TREATING HIM LIKE HE DESERVES

[mychlapci]

Earlier I tried to send an ask about this headcannon but nothing came so were giving it another shot.

So we know about washracks in the fandom. A communal shower sorta thing we expect for army barracks and locker room but that can't be the most affective way to clean finely detailed mechanic beings. I think they'd have to soak a bit to get to all the in between parts nice and clean. Let's also work in the idea transformers are an extremely social species and like to share even their bathing time with peers.

So what if Cybertronians had a Bathhouse culture.

Transformers going to the baths for a nice soak to get all their joints loosened up after a long work day. Fellow bots helping each other clean backs, wings and other hard to reach areas. The perfect place to show off or get a look at some protoform. Many bots discuss mods they wanted to share but couldn't in the right setting. It's the perfect place for some interfacing since transfluid and lubricants are cleaned up so easily afterwards. lots of possibilities for fun dynamics.

yes yes yes i actually love that so much. i just really like the concept of bathhouses. Bots soaking and banging in biiiiig hot baths should be more widespread as a headcanon.

[hell-drabbles]

Satan 3

Summary: Satan's taking too much time in the bath and you want him out. Of course he would take this opportunity to make you even more furious than you already are. Oh well, at least he's entertainingly slutty.

(I spent a lot of time moving all my shit from one writing program to another. I was using NovelWriter for most of my stuff but have since moved them to Manuskript because the interface is more familiar to me. By all means, NovelWriter is the better one, I just like the way Manuskript looks, is all.)

"Alright," you barged into the bathroom as soon as the clock hand struck past eleven, "Get out." You said with a kick to the tub, towel over your shoulder.

Yeah yeah, you could just go find a different bathroom to take a bath in, but you were made a promise and you were going to get it. This tub, when compared to the rest of the other bathrooms in this place, really pale in comparison to Satan's bathtub.

It's a small and dumb thing to get worked up over, but you've been having a bad day of angels hounding your ass and devils wanting your ass.

You're not giving shit. You just want a bath. But Satan is, of course wasting your fucking time by taking as long as possible in this bathtub.

Satan, gazing through the sunlight window, looked back and cracked a mischievous grin.

"Make me," he dared you, further annoying you with a clean splash of his foot. You were splashed.

You know what? Fuck it.

You threw your towel, pushed up your sleeves and shoved your hands into Satan's hair.

"If that's how you want to play it," you wrapped his hair around your forearm and pulled without mercy. "Then fine."

Satan's grin nearly split his face as he hissed through his gritted teeth. His hands dug into the bathtub's rim, his toes curling as blood rushed up to his cheeks and down to his dick.

"Let go," you yanked like he was rabid dog on a leash, "I want the tub."

You can feel strands ripping under your fingers, the resistance to Satan's scalp, and the goosebumps that raise from the small of his back all the way up and down his body.

"Y-you're going to have to try harder than that," Satan panted out, eyes wide with joy at your anger, your physical rage.

"Of course you're enjoying this," you sighed with a clenched jaw.

You grabbed his horn, not bothering with any warnings because he doesn't deserve them and pulled. Satan's breath hiccuped in his lungs and when you practically clawed at the base for a better grip, Satan's hips jumped from the water, on his knees.

"Oh no you don't." You slammed your hand right above his ass, making Satan practically squeal, "You wanted to stay in the bath, you're keeping your dick in the bath."

If he wants to be a brat, then he'll be punished like one.

You covered his mouth, stuffing all begging sounds right down his throat. This bathroom echoes a bit too much. His keens are giving you a headache.

You want him out, but you may as well have some fun while you're at it. It's a nice stress reliever, getting your anger out like this.

You will be tossing him outside the room as soon as he lets go though. You're not satisfying him. You really do want that bath.

[one-of-many-journeys]

Day 15 (1/2)

Regional Control Centre

I woke in the middle of the night to see that Gaia had managed to unlock more of the facility. While she continued booting up, piecing herself back together with Minerva, I did a little more exploring.

As Gaia's integrated herself further with the Control Centre's systems, I can see a whole lot more with my Focus. Just scanning the server racks gives me information about each one, a summary of its internal data and its utility to us. She's been busy.

Most crucial in terms of utility: showers, sinks, and toilets. The plumbing is in ruins, but Gaia indicated that it wouldn't take much in way of repairs to get things patched up. It'd be amazing to get it all working—otherwise it's either out on the frigid mountain or down the elevator shaft.

There are sleeping quarters next to the amenities, four sections with a bed, desk, and plenty of storage space. The blankets have decomposed to scrap and the place reeks of mould, but with a bit of cleaning, it could be a nice place to stay. Better than a Nora bedhouse, for sure.

Gaia still didn't have all the rooms hooked into the power supply, but she unlocked a few for me to explore, one stocked with more servers and a smaller holographic projector. Again, Gaia had got their interfaces up and running to help me process their data on my Focus. There isn't much left; this place was meant to hold knowledge specific to operating and improving the terraforming system, but it was wiped clear along with Apollo.

There were a couple of offices accessible as well, similar to the offices in Zero Dawn facilities, but cleaner and better kept. They reminded me of Elisabet's office.

I don't need an office as such—with its physical monitors and old, creaky chairs—but I could use a place to stash my stuff, work on my gadgets and weapons. This is sure to worsen my hoarding problem. No more lugging everything around until I can pawn it off on the next merchant, and no more leaving stuff behind at secluded camps hoping it won't be stolen. I'm not going to let myself lose everything again.

The last accessible room was a little more useful—a lab, with a lot of mechanisms still operational. Most exciting was the fabrication terminal, a contraption capable of taking in scrap metal and other parts and rebuilding them to certain specifications. It was built to be interoperable with Gaia's machines, so using it to analyse and recreate structures from machine parts will help build the data I need to complete those corrupted override schemas I lifted from the Tau Cauldron core. I'm sure there's a whole lot more I can do with it too.

Watching it at work on a small test sample, tiny machines swirling behind the glass, it reminded me of the golden machine swarms wielded by the intruders at the Proving Lab. Maybe a more advanced form of similar technology?

Varl woke and joined me as I finished poking around the lab. He and Zo had similarly found somewhere passably warm to curl up. He wanted to know what was next; so did I. I tried not to come across as completely clueless about our plans going forward. I didn't tell him about the intruders at the lab, or the other clone. Not yet. Not until I know who they are and what they're really after.

As we were talking, Gaia called me over Focus to summon me back to the projection theatre. Her initialisation and merge with Minerva was complete. She was ready to talk and, I hoped, make everything clear.

She spoke to me first about the state of the biosphere. Not good, was the general prognosis. Gaia said it would only take about four months for the rabid terraforming system to degrade beyond all reasonable hope of repair. The good news was, since the RCC was built for long range communication, unlike Latopolis, Gaia could now run a far more sophisticated scan for the escaped subfunctions. However, the scan could take days or more likely weeks to complete, given she'd have to pinpoint each function's mutated signature and circumvent the many techniques they've likely employed to hide themselves. The others are unlikely to be as forthcoming as Minerva.

The only subfunction that Gaia could detect deafeningly loud and blindingly clear was Hephaestus. Figures, I've seen it around too. Gaia explained that it's scattered across the global Cauldron network, and in any attempt to capture it, it would simply slip away to some distant location, as I'd experienced at Firebreak and in Cauldron Tau. It had no reason to hide its activities.

Gaia would continue devising a plan to lock it out of the network and capture it, though attempting to do so before she had been reunited with at least three more of her subfunctions would lead to disaster. Hephaestus had mutated to a dangerous degree since the original Gaia's self-destruction. Given freedom of movement it had grown massive, volatile, and hostile; as it absorbed Cyan, it would absorb this more rudimentary, weaker version of Gaia with ease. She needed to be powerful enough to match it in battle by increasing her 'processing density'. The mission remained as it always had been: repair Gaia. Just because she was here, speaking and smiling and strategising, that didn't mean I was done. Far from it.

Hephaestus is our most important target. Without it, Gaia can't build machines of her own or take control of the Cauldron network. The machines are like her tools, her hands, able to act upon her orders and bring the terraforming system back into balance. With the other subfunctions, she would be able to enact some measure of change using existing machines and facilities to temper the most acute affects of system collapse, but without new machines to join the effort, that temperance wouldn't last long. That's to say nothing of the threat of Hephaestus itself as it continues to take direct control of Cauldrons, building more dangerous machines meant to cull humankind to make way for its own purple progeny.

So that's problem one: we need at least three subfunctions, along with a plan to bring Hephaestus to heel. We still have no clue where those other subfunctions could be, if they still exist, except that they'll be hiding in processor cores somewhere within rapid networking distance of Gaia Prime. That only leaves just about everywhere not on the other side of an ocean, if I'm lucky.

Gaia said she will devote as much of her internal resources as possible to detecting more of her subfunctions and notify me as soon as they're located. There's not much sense in me striking out into the open before then, especially with what I know is waiting for me, wanting me dead and well out of their way.

I asked Gaia then about the strangers at the Proving Lab.

She'd seen the whole encounter through my Focus, and she shared in my unease. She then laid out her theory, and it was worse than I ever speculated. Bombshell one: the signal that woke Hades, which Gaia ominously calls 'the extinction signal', didn't come from anywhere on Earth. She showed me, in projection form, Earth from a distance, moon and stars surrounding, then pulled back, the image moving so fast that the stars were coloured streaks racing past us. I was transfixed; horrified, but morbidly awestruck. What was so far away that would want to harm us here on Earth? Other worlds, other life?

This was the distance that the signal travelled to reach Gaia, a length so vast that light itself takes 8.6 years to cross it. That number was familiar, somewhere in the back of my mind, but I didn't realise where I'd heard it until Gaia's projection reached its destination, the motion of light finally ceasing.

There it was, orbiting a planet of brown landmasses, dark blue oceans, and thick swirls of clouds: the Odyssey. It was the same projection that Osvald Dalgaard used in his presentation at the Far Zenith launch facility. 8.6 light years...he used the same figure when describing the Odyssey's destination, the Sirius system.

Gaia said it was the only logical origin, though realistically the signal could have come from any direction of the same approximate distance away. As Hades said, the signal repeated for 17.22 years, and Gaia explained as I continued trying to get my head around distances that light crossed at a long crawl. That was 8.6 years once the signal arrived, for the fact of its failure to reach its sender, and another 8.6 for the sender's ceasing order to make it back to Earth.

Working theory: Far Zenith lied about their shuttle's explosion. After Travis' attack on their systems, and their deal with Zero Dawn coming to an end, they clearly didn't trust the descendants of the project to leave them alone. I know that Elisabet's view of Far Zenith was less than favourable; maybe they saw that as a potential threat. So, Far Zenith fake the destruction of their ship to keep Zero Dawn off their backs for good, and stay hidden from those that the project would raise and educate under Gaia's care.

I know they were paranoid. In the Old World, no one knew who the members of Far Zenith were, and it seems like a large portion of the public hated them for their flagrant wealth and hoarded power. They kept themselves secret on Earth, then hid their presence in space. They tried to steal Gaia before they left Earth, then tried to use their 'extinction signal' to steal her again, planning to take the whole world down in the process. Why?

I suppose they didn't know that Apollo was destroyed, maybe they thought we were still a threat, but even so, we didn't know about them. We couldn't have known, thanks to their cover up. So, what was it? They sent their signal to wake Hades and destroy all life on Earth, clean it of 'filth', as Hades put it, and then what? They subdue Hades, reinstate Gaia and...re-program her, maybe. Use her to create the world that they want. Play god, just as Elisabet feared. This is why she didn't want to hand over a copy of Gaia in the first place, but in refusing, in retaliating...did she doom us, here and now?

I posed my thoughts to Gaia, and she agreed that it was her own conclusion as well. Far Zenith had always planned to flee Earth in its dying days. Maybe they always planned to return as well. Return and claim the world they once dominated.

I thought there was only one inheritor of the human legacy, but there were two. One, Elisabet's, and the other...the space-born descendants of Peter Tshivhumbe.

Gaia confirmed something else that Hades said: the signal was meant for it alone, and the mutations imparted on the other subfunctions were only incidental, only unleashed when Hades was unable to assume control fast enough as Gaia initiated self-destruction, something Far Zenith couldn't anticipate. It was an incredibly advanced piece of malware, as Sylens observed, and Gaia said that only someone with in-depth knowledge of her code structures and her system as a whole could have engineered it. So...maybe Far Zenith was able to steal more of Zero Dawn's data than Travis thought. Maybe they've been working on reverse-engineering it ever since.

Suddenly, the strangers at the Proving Lab made a whole lot more sense. Their advanced technology, their flashy weaponry, their gilded ornamentation...Far Zenith, grown formidable with the knowledge of the Old Ones, given by Zero Dawn, on their side. They came here to do what their extinction signal failed to do: wipe out life on Earth, and use a stolen backup of Gaia to build it all over again for them to rule, destroying Elisabet's dream forever.

And all I could think about was that clone, moving on their orders, silent, weak. How could she go along with this plan? She stole Gaia for them, handing her over to Elisabet's enemy for them to use, to twist into a weapon to destroy and remake the world into some abomination, some paradise for these people who think themselves entitled to the planet.

How did they make a clone in the first place? Why, when their technology is supposedly so powerful?

Gaia explained that Far Zenith could have obtained a sample of Elisabet's DNA, with or without her consent, and stored it on board the Odyssey along with their many Earth life samples and human zygotes. She said that even with their ability to engineer powerful malware, obtaining a physical backup of Gaia in a shut-down state could only be done by walking in and taking it, and only someone with Elisabet Sobeck's genetic code could do that. Far Zenith made the clone as a key, just as Gaia made me. The only crucial difference is I was made to save the world, not kill everything on it.

Gaia had her doubts about the clone. She seems to think it's more likely that she's a subordinate, some sort of slave forced to take their orders. No way. She's Elisabet Sobeck, just as much as I am, she's no subordinate. Elisabet loved life; she gave everything for this world, just for this clone to come along and destroy it all? No. Just the thought of her makes me sick.

So it's all down to me. I knew it would be; it always is. Gaia can't do much from here but keep scanning for the other subordinate functions. As soon as she finds them, I'll be her eyes and hands. Vessel, if we want to get all Nora about it. I'll have to go and load each subfunction onto the cartridge I found Gaia on, then bring them back here to merge into her new system. Meanwhile, that other clone is running around with Far Zenith, who likely have way more advanced scanning capabilities, hunting the subfunctions right alongside me, with their own version of Gaia to mold and command. If they get to Hephaestus first, merge it into their version of Gaia...it'll be over. They'll have control over every Cauldron on the planet. They'll rule the biosphere and be able to build whatever devastating weapons they can dream up to kill us all.

But if I can beat them to it, we'll have the upper hand. Enough damage will take down the Zenith's shields, which to my onslaught seemed impenetrable. With an army of machines, we'll have the ability to destroy Far Zenith and their Specters on Earth, but even then...how many more of them are out there? How far have they already spread across the stars? How long will this fight go on?

It's...a lot. It's everything. My hands leapt to Elisabet's pendant without my knowing, tracing its comforting shapes and textures. Peeling paint, rusted hinges; the last thing Elisabet ever touched. I couldn't help but profess my doubts to Gaia. Even if it wasn't exactly her idea to create me, it was a version of her. Somewhere in her un-lived future there's a part of her that believes I am her best hope to save this world.

She gave me comfort. After all, she'd listened to her predecessor's final message too, trusting it. She'd seen that future, and repeated its words. Though her phrasing was mechanical, flat, ringing against old metal, the message was the same as I'd always heard when facing adversity, from Rost. Though the odds may seem insurmountable, there is hope. You are capable. You have prevailed many times.

Look deeper. Keep moving forward.

Before I left the theatre, I noticed a console on the circumference of the room. Gaia told me more about it; it was meant for uploading and accessing footage from observation drones. These drones were meant to be deployed in an emergency when biosphere observation could not be handled by personnel in the RCC. The centre had deployed them automatically a few years ago, when the first signs of blight start showing up. It took something extremely anomalous to trigger the system, apparently, and due to its degradation, the RCC soon lost connection to all the dispatched drones.

So, that explained the drone I found circling near that Thunderjaw in No Man's Land. I was able to upload the data I'd taken off it to the console, allowing the RCC to reconnect to the drone. And there it was, a live feed of red rocks and rusted bots. Those closest stones almost looked real. I figured that reconnecting these drones could be of some use to Gaia, who can observe the lands through them until she takes control of the Cauldron network again. Until, no if's.

I spoke to Varl and Zo briefly before heading back out into the wilds. They plan on staying behind to get up to speed on things with Gaia and make some repairs to the centre's facilities. Who knows, maybe I'll come back to a working shower.

Without any clear direction to where the subfunctions might be hiding, I may as well make myself useful in doing what I can to help the people of these lands. After Hephaestus' attack, the Utaru are sure to be struggling, and with Regalla's rebels still prowling their territory, the danger isn't over.

Sylens and his little army fits into all of this somehow. He knew who the Zeniths were, I'm sure of it. I'm willing to bet he was using me as some sort of bargaining chip; he leads Far Zenith to a backup of Gaia and a clone of Elisabet, he asks for a copy of Apollo in return. Then he uses his army to, what, conquer? That doesn't seem like his style. Maybe he thought Far Zenith would let him join up, otherwise I have no idea how he was planning to survive their plan for the world. What a self-absorbed idiot.

I thought it'd be a quick journey down the mountain with my Shield Wing. Beautiful views, pleasant weather, and no signs of total war and ruin down in Plainsong.

Not so quick once the rain started and a few Skydrifters came swooping in. I kept them down with spark cell detonations before going in for spear strikes. Ropes to keep the others from moving around too much in the meantime. A Burrower came to join in too, but I silenced it before it could call any more machines to the area. Fortunately, none of them were Hephaestus' deadly creations.

Continuing on my way down, I passed a signal tower like the one I found back in the Daunt. Scanning it, I picked up another corrupted projection. I made the quick climb back up to the ruin on the rise to repair the image from its original vantage. It showed the turbines and satellite dishes that now house Plainsong.

It was another site of the Miriam Technologies tour. This satellite array was once used to detect and monitor near-Earth objects—big rocks, I guess—rich in minerals. Miriam Technologies developed machines for the automated mining of these minerals out in space. I guess there wasn't much left of the stuff on Earth after the Claw Back, but it's pretty cool to think about. Unfortunately, there's only one near-Earth object I need to be concerned with right now, and that's the fucking Odyssey.

No need to dwell on it right now. There are people here who need my help. I continued down toward Plainsong.

[uselessmicrowave]

NSFW alphabet with tfp soundwave? Pls I beg 🙏😫

A= Aftercare

Very extensive aftercare, they will clean you up well and help you into a bath, dry you off and hold you until you fall asleep.

B= Body Part

Soundwave likes their visor. They love your arms and legs, the way they look tangled up in their cables is irresistible.

C= Cum

Honestly dislikes it, they think it’s a mess to clean up, but if that’s what you’re into, they’re fine.

D= Dirty Secret

Watches a ton of tentacle/monster stuff. They’ll tell you about it, but only if you ask.

E= Experience

They are not very experienced but, as mentioned, they’ve gotten some pretty good ideas of what to do for you because of videos.

F= Favorite Position

You in front of them, suspended from their cables.

G= Goofy

They’re silly in their own way, turning you upside down or tickling you with cables.

I= Intimacy

They will not be very romantic, but that should be no surprise or deviation from your normal relationship behavior.

J= Jack Off

Very sparingly, like, once a month at most.

K= Kinks

Suspention, sounding, punishment, overstimulation and orgasm denial. Most giving and not receiving.

L= Location

In their berthroom, doesn’t matter where in the berthroom, but that’s the only place where Soundwave will open up to you.

M= Motivation

Not anything in particular, you just being in the mood gets them in the mood.

N= No

Taking the visor off or being in public while interfacing with you.

O= Oral

Soundwave cannot give, they will not take their mask off. They don’t really care for receiving either.

P= Pace

Fast but soft.

Q= Quickie

Absolutely not. They need a bit of time to admire your fleshy body.

R= Risk

None! None at all, getting frisky in a public area or somewhere other then their room is an immediate no.

S= Stamina

They could probably go forever, considering they won’t be the one who’s receiving.

T= Toys

They have toys, but only if you count their cables. Soundwave has modifications to make some of them vibrate.

U= Unfair

They’re definitely teasing when they’ve had a rough day, but they won’t make you cry.

V= Volume

Silent, with the exception of their vents blowing. But even that’s quiet.

W= Wild Card

Is actually kind of repulsed by the idea of using their own equipment to interface.

X= Xray

2’1”/60 cm with surging bio lights going up their spike, their valve

Y= Yearning

They are needy after a long day of work, they just want to love on you and tire you out.

Z= Zzz

Soundwave will want to work or finish reports after they take care of you, but if you ask nicely, they’ll recharge with you in their servos.

[silanb]

Self restraint

(A lil snippet I wrote as a warmup)

>>> Interfacing: You look up at the cabinet, rows upon rows of medication bottles and medical supplies lining the shelves. The two bottles in your hand have a place here, somewhere, you just have to find it.

SHIVERS: Lieutenant Kitsuragi shuffles the bottles around, once, twice, three times. The bottles never seem to find their right place. Their home. Not like this is his city. He shuffles them along anyway.

The bathroom is cool. You try not to shake it off.

Visual calculus: there is a system here, if you take the time to examine it. Carefully planned and sorted so he can find everything he needs. Little braille labeled caps that let him find things even when it’s late and dark, or in the early morning when he’s too tired to put his glasses on. To grab them without looking. Yes, there is a system here, you just don’t know it.

Reaction speed: Yet.

Interfacing: You could take the time to try to piece it together, that way you’d know where to place the bottles. It might take some time but it’s only been a few seconds of you standing here. The Lieutenant is busy putting things away, and it shouldn’t take all that long.

Electrochemistry: That’s right, he’s distracted, so he wouldn’t notice if you popped a few of those bottles into your coat pocket. He’s bound to keep some strong stuff in there, maybe leftover prescription pills from being shot. It would be oh so nice to relax with Kim once you have *those * in your system

Logic: he would notice as soon as he went to grab something and his system was disrupted.

Rhetoric: and if he didn’t, what if he reached for a bottle in the morning, without his glasses, and because you’d moved them he picked up the wrong one? He wouldn’t make a habit of buying ones with brailled caps if he didn’t use them.

Electrochemistry: that could be a problem for future you. You might not get a chance like this again to see if he’s got some really good stuff in there. Just, for future reference.

Volition: and violate the Lieutenant’s trust in the process, undo all your work getting sober, and ruin your ability to work tomorrow. You shouldn’t. It would be better to simply place them on the shelf to the side of the cabinet for Kim to handle later.

Interfacing: [Failed] You try to understand the system Kim has put in place, without looking for drugs to pilfer from your friend, but aside from all the bottles being arranged so they can be easily grabbed without shuffling it’s impossible to tell. Some have prescription names you don’t know, allergy tablets and mild pain pills are next to each-other while stronger pain meds and a decongestant are in completely separate locations. You won’t be figuring this one out champ.

You place the bottles delicately on the shelf next to the cabinet instead, front and center so he won’t miss them when he comes in next to grab them.

When you walk back in to the kitchen Kim has only put away about half of the groceries you helped him bring up. The ones left sit half organized and dumped from their bags on the counter.

“I set them next to the counter so I didn’t mess up your groove in there,” you offer, leaning past Kim to grab something in hopes of helping another way. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, that’s preferable actually, thank you,” Kim offers one of his small, rewarding smiles.

Empathy: The Lieutenant is tired today. He barely bothered to put on presentable clothes when you came by, maybe even to the store. Not having to clean up your messes is always a good thing but today it’s a relief that you’re just here. He’s glad for your thoughtfulness.

Inland empire: He always is. Now help your partner in arms, he needs the relief.

In a comfortable silence, you get back to work helping him sort the groceries away.

[theoceanoasis]

Roddy typically taking care of others when fragging. He does the same with Soundwave while they’re on the lost light but he actually enjoys it.

They do this a few times with Roddy topping and doing all kinds of tricks for Soundwave.

Only one day Roddy can’t get himself to be what someone else needs and Soundwave shows him exactly what he really needed all this time

Soundwave had always known that Hot Rod was lying to himself. He always put on a front in order to please people ignoring how drained he'd be afterwards.

He watched as he walked away with someone going back to their room where he'd take care of them. Making sure they got to come. While he never did. It was obvious by the tension in his spoiler when he'd see him a few hours later going back to his room. The unsatisfied look on his face as he gave someone else what they needed and ignored his own pleasure.

He couldn't stand watching someone so beautiful and perfect hurt himself over and over again in order to please others.

He knew he needed to do something which is why he came up with a plan. He'd show Hot Rod what it was like to be taken care of and to stop rejecting himself.

He'd help him sink into subspace and take care of him the entire time. Helping him let go and showing him what a cute little sub he'll make. He'll show him how well he can please him without hurting himself. Tell him how perfect he was while his mind was in a happy fog letting him take control.

He started by hanging out with him more. He'd ask if he wanted to get energon and he'd listen as he talked.

He wanted this to be more than a fling. He wanted Hot Rod to be his and the only way to do that is to show that he wants him for more than just interfacing.

He loved bringing Roddy on dates and taking care of him. He'd watch as his optics got a little hazy and he became so sweet for him. He didn't know how anyone could mistake him for a dom.

He knew Rodimus wanted to ask him to interface. He seemed nervous and tense in a way he hasn't been since they first started hanging out.

He asked him what was wrong pretending he didn't know and Rodimus hesitated for a second giving him an embarrassed look before finally asking.

He looked so cute with a faint blush dusting his cheeks and he agreed unable to resist. Rodimus seemed to stumble over himself as he led him back to his room.

Immediately he tried to bully him in berth his movements clumsy as he tried to fight himself. He wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him closer.

Rodimus looked up at him in surprise not used to people manhandling him which was such a shame.

"Let me take care of you. I know you will be so good for me."

Rodimus shivered and leaned against him. His optics going foggy. He scooped him up and carried him to his bed where he laid him down.

He then proceeded to take care of him showing Rodimus what he'd been missing. By the time they were done he'd come more times than they could remember.

He was deep in sub space and cuddling against him as he took care of him, making sure he drank energon and cleaning him off.

He was nice and relaxed letting him move him around without complaint. He was so perfect and he loved taking care of him.

"That was amazing."

Rodimus finally spoke and he kissed him.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

He tucked him into bed and climbed in as well.

"You did such a good job for me."

He praised and Roddy shivered cuddling again him. He wrapped his arms around him and stroked his spoiler watching as Rodimus fell asleep in his arms.

He kissed his forehead and fell asleep holding Rodimus close.

[ghostofasecretary]

okay! i'm having, like, a bad time. so i want to celebrate some of the things i've done lately.

i finished my first real knitting project and it's very cute!

i've made myself lots of very tasty food.

i've worked hard on Meds Quest and i think i'm getting somewhere. (also i picked up some of my meds and paid a medical bill.)

i applied to my last grad school and thus all the graduate schools that were on my list of things to apply to.

i cleaned my room pretty thoroughly, and rethought some of my organization tactics so it looks nicer (and will hopefully stay nicer for longer), and i hung up some art.

i repaired the hem of a dress and the straps of my apron.

i taught my roommate how to make Pumpkin's Grief Cookies. (which seemed to need less flour than they did last time? fascinating. maybe it was the different yogurt and/or fancier butter.)

i bought and set up a dish drying rack so my kitchen is no longer a hive of misery and instead, like, looks nice. and also the dishes get dry now.

i bought (and used!) no-rinse soap which has enabled me to do way more handwashing and keep my wardrobe in better repair.

i got a refund on the item that never arrived.

i spent under $25 in groceries for the week and still have at least one more meal i can make with my produce, plus a shitload of baking to do with my bananas. and like. five big oranges left. and this is with probably three days of leftover food in the fridge. (might freeze some of it.)

i taught my classes (even when they were very difficult) and met my new students.

i finally got a key fob to my apartment building.

and i've, like, slept and eaten at least vaguely three meals and showered and kept my body in decent repair. and started a new knitting project. and i called two friends i've missed.

that's a pretty productive week! no wonder you're tired!

so why, if i've done so many nice things for myself, do i still feel like steamed shit?

speculation:

i haven't done either of the two projects that (aside from my job) really interface with other people, and one of them is LOOMING

yesterday i got LOCKED OUT OF MY BUILDING due to my FUCKING MANAGEMENT which STILL HASN'T FIXED MY BATTERY OR REPLIED TO MY EMAILS RE: THE BEEPING OF THE LAST FOUR WEEKS and that was, like. y'know. emotionally exhausting

i also physically exhausted myself for standing for, like, three hours straight doing a fuckload of dishes and cooking

my job is hard and kind of emotionally draining and i got, like, multiple Validating Looks from other adults about it yesterday, it was that bad

i still don't have my focus meds. med warning is different than med watch, etc

my grandpa died. December was vaguely hellish. it takes time to recover.

i feel like i'm just. in a puddle on the floor despairing. sometimes even while i am doing work and crossing things off my lists! i'm not hopeful about my near-term future. i'm scared. i feel bad about myself and my work and how slowly my brain is working these days, how often i mix stuff up.

but: give yourself some time. do try to work on those two projects today, but also, seriously, for real for real: give yourself some time. cut yourself a break. doing work to make your own life (and the lives of your housemates!) better is not a waste of time. it's arguably the point of being alive.

life is hard, and life as a disabled person is extra hard. i'm doing my damnedest to be graceful and gracious about it. i'm getting so much good experience at my job, even though it is very difficult too, and i love living on my own. these things are hard and lovely. so. it's okay to feel bad! it makes sense that you are tired! but i'm proud of myself for the effort i'm putting in and the work i'm doing, and i know i can keep doing the work. and even when i fail i will keep going.

[eitherlyingorstupid]

Longarm/Beachcomber oral sex

Beachcomber didn't mind interfacing on the job. He was a lot better at it than cleaning, really, but he really didn't want to lose his position as janitor. Sentinel Prime already didn't like him for his status as a conscientious objector, and he was probably looking for any excuse to fire him. If he found out Beachcomber had been lingering around in Longarm's office, hoping for a repeat of that one late-night encounter…

Well, Beachcomber would drift on to some other job. He should've been named Flotsam, with the way he aimlessly drifted wherever the tides took him. For now, he would do whatever he needed to do, and leave any worries to his future self.

“Polishing the floor again?” Longarm said.

Beachcomber's processor tried to formulate a subtly suggestive response, failed, and ended up producing a single, simple, “yeah”.

“You're not neglecting cleaning the other offices, are you?"

"No! No, sir. I just, uh, noticed a scuff mark here," Beachcomber replied. He turned away, focusing on the handheld polishing machine. He could almost see his face in the steel panels by now. “Gotta be… uh, be thorough.”

“Is that right? You're just taking extra care of my office?”

“You're called the Elite Guard, right? I can't let the place get all nasty. That's not elite.”

"That's very considerate of you," Longarm said. "By the way, what's with the outfit?"

"Oh, this? I was just watching a few holo-vids Jazz brought back from Earth, and some of the cleaners wear this getup." Beachcomber pulled at the white petticoats under the black skirt. "And my... um, friend, Tracks, was talking about clothes being all the rage in the fashion world right now.”

He didn't mention that the fabric also felt very nice against his sensor net. The white stockings especially rubbed him the right way.

Longarm made a soft noise of surprise. “Tracks is quite well known in the upper crust of Cybertronian society,” he said. “I'm surprised you know him.”

“He's not a bad guy when you get to know him.” Beachcomber tried to grab a bottle of polish off the cleaning trolley and fumbled it to the floor, where it rolled under Longarm's desk. He bent over to retrieve it, biting his lip as he considered what he looked like from behind.

A gentle pat on his backside made Beachcomber jolt upright so quickly he slammed his head on the underside of the desk. He collapsed onto his knees and held the back of his head, immediately forgetting about the contact that had caused the injury.

“Oh, dear.”

“I'm fine,” Beachcomber said. He backed out from under the desk, then stood up to face Longarm. He pulled the skirt and apron down, even though he had nothing to actually cover.

For a moment, they just stood and watched each other. The air was filled with tension as Beachcomber remembered his previous encounter with Longarm.

"Let me see," Longarm said. He rested his hand on the back of Beachcomber's head, rubbing the metal gently. "Does it hurt?"

"Not now." Beachcomber belatedly realized Longarm had moved closer, effectively trapping him between the desk and the larger mech's body.

Beachcomber leaned back and sat on the desk, his legs dangling over the side. "So, uh... you remember that time I sucked your spike?"

Longarm's brow rose. "You want me to return the favor?"

"...maybe?" Beachcomber said. "I mean, I know you're busy and all, but if you had the time, I wouldn't say no to a little... maintenance."

Longarm rested a servo on Beachcomber's knee, sliding it up his thigh. “I could spare some time.”

“I mean, only if it's not a hassle, sir. I wouldn't want to, you know, distract you from your important Elite Guard stuff.”

Longarm’s hand stopped its ascent up Beachcomber’s thigh. “Is that what you call it?” He leaned closer, his frame looming over Beachcomber. “I thought we were past that formal nonsense.”

He used his other hand to push Beachcomber down on his back. A stray datapad was knocked to the floor, but Longarm ignored it. He went to his knees, pressing his lips to Beachcomber's belly and trailing downwards.

Beachcomber's engine purred, sending a boost of charge down his wires and into his array.

Longarm kissed the closed panels, swiping his tongue against the hot plates of metal until they slid aside.

Beachcomber arched his back, a soft gasp escaping his vents as Longarm's warm, wet tongue made contact with his valve. It pushed inside, curling to stroke the sensory nodes on the inside. The janitor's legs trembled, his servos gripping the edge of the desk for support.

“Mmph...sir,” Beachcomber moaned. He raised his legs to rest on Longarm's shoulders, giving him more access. "You're good at this."

Longarm chuckled. He sucked at the outer node, charging it with static that crackled into blue sparks.

“Oh, frag yes,” Beachcomber moaned. His hand found its way to Longarm’s head.

He was aware of noises from the hallway outside, and Beachcomber prayed that no one would walk in on them.

Longarm didn’t seem to care. He was focused on Beachcomber’s valve, his tongue moving in a steady rhythm that was driving Beachcomber crazy with need. He reached down to stroke himself, pulling up his skirt to get at his spike. It was already half hard, eager for the touch.

"Sir, I don’t think—" Beachcomber began to protest, but Longarm silenced him with a look.

"I've got you," Longarm said. He stood up, taking Beachcomber by the hips and flipping him onto his stomach. "Now, let's see if I can make you as shiny as this floor."

He buried his face back in Beachcomber's valve, squeezing his spike with one servo. He moaned, and would have squirmed away if it weren't for Longarm's heavy hand on his back. The hand on Beachcomber's spike stroked faster, matching the rhythm of Longarm's mouth.

Beachcomber leaned down, his face pressed against the cold metal of the desk as he vented. His processor was already slow, and now it was even more bogged down with sensory input. Through it, he was vaguely aware that he was about to overload and make a mess on the side of the desk, and mumbled an incoherent plea as his legs trembled.

Longarm didn’t ease up. His strokes grew more insistent, his tongue pushing deeper into Beachcomber's valve, teasing the sensitive inner workings.

He gripped the edge of the desk, shuddering through an overload while struggling to keep quiet.

Longarm pulled away, and Beachcomber heard him ex-vent harshly. "Hmm. Seems you've had enough polishing for one day," he murmured, his voice low.

Beachcomber couldn't muster a response, closing his optics and relaxing on the desk.

[marragurl]

Oh nice! Do you remember how far you got into the manga? Also the best way to read it rn is via mangadex, the person translating the chapters over the past couple years have been really good!

Million dollar question right there won't lie ;-; I'm trying to remember that right now tbh. I know for sure I got past much of what the anime adapted but my memory isn't really the best. The last things I clearly remember are Kuro and Mahiru being in the C3 base? But I legitimately don’t even remember much of the beginning chapters, so I'm just gonna have to start from the beginning again to also see the things the anime missed out on when it was adapting. And yea I love mangadex! There's just something really clean about their interface, so I'll definitely be using it when I start reading again!

[frogliftcertified]

Trying out Tauon Music Box, I think this just might be my new favourite music player. It does look really pretty and clean, but I generally have my music player minimised so looks aren't all that important to me.

Aside from being open source, has support for Wayland, PipeWire, ListenBrainz/LastFM, etc. what is even more important to me is being fairly customisable, and it's SNAPPY, it opens nearly instantly.

It also uses SDL, in all likelihood it uses that for hardware acceleration, but more amusingly through SDL it supports gamepad input. So if you wanted to control your music player with your gamepad, there it is. I haven't tried that myself but it's an option.

Now, playlist management. Tauon actually made me reconsider how I manage my playlists.

Before Tauon, I used Foobar2000 through Wine (lmao right), before moving onto DeaDBeeF, and then Audacious.

In these programs I just made one playlist per album, so as my collection grew that kinda became a lot of playlists. Audacious for example, would take several seconds to boot because I was torturing it with my silly playlist management.

But that was my workflow, I liked it, it was tidy to me, and it let me find my favourite albums fast. If I lumped every album in these programs, there were generally no options to separate them. Maybe there was in one of these, but at that point I was just stubborn.

Tauon's interface changed that for me, because when adding multiple albums to a playlist it intuitively names the playlist after the album artist, then separates them nicely by album. Additionally it also shows their release years and length. Multiple discs are handled gracefully too.

I still love F2K, DeaDBeeF, and Audacious mind you, and I see no reason as to why they can't all coexist with Tauon, they just serve different purposes and people I think.

The only downside to Tauon I personally found was no support for SID or SSF playback, but c'mon.. Not really world-ending.

That being said, Tauon does make a damn bold claim:

And I think it just might be.

[vampire-meta-knight]

Let's Make Cute Sweaters!!!

Listen up Tumblr, your local goth is going to teach you how to make an applique and sew it onto a sweater or sweatshirt.

Yeah, my pumpkin's wonky, but he's my Special Little Guy, and I love him.

I used plain, Time And Tru sweatshirts from Walmart that only cost about $10, but you can easily thrift a sweater or use one you already have that needs a little spice. The tombstone is made with felt, and the pumpkin is made from a plaid fat quarter--I will explain both methods, as they differ slightly.

Felt (the easiest): Find or draw a template (I searched tombstone templates for mine), cut it out, then use it to cut out the same shape from your felt of choice. If you want to embroider any details on your applique, like I did with the RIP and cracks, do that before sewing it onto the sweater. Put the sweater on and pin the applique where you want it to sit (doesn't have to be on the center--you could easily do elbow patches or a little patch off to the side), then do a blanket stitch by hand around the border for a decorative, clean way to attach it. I used 4 strands of embroidery floss in a contrasting color on the tombstone and six strands on the pumpkin--I think four works perfectly fine and is a little less bulky. Embroidery floss comes in every color imaginable and is pretty cheap, so you can experiment with color combos or even use multiple colored threads. You're welcome to play around with stitches and find something that works for you if you don't like the look of the blanket stitch, you can use a sewing machine instead, or you can safety-pin or fabric-glue the applique on if sewing isn't for you.

Optional: I sewed lace trim around the neckline and added a tiny bow for extra cuteness. If you're going to add lace trim, keep in mind that unless you're using stretchy lace, it'll hinder the stretch of the sweater. To mitigate this, I stretched the neckline a bit as I sewed and used a zig-zag stitch with my machine (you can sew it on by hand, too, just using wider stitches). I also must mention that the neckline on this sweater was decently wide without stretching, so even though it can't stretch as far anymore, it's no trouble getting it over my head. If you're using something with a tighter neckline, or tight cuffs on the sleeves, that really needs to stretch, then use stretchy lace or none at all. Bows are still something you can add that won't affect the stretch, so go wild with bows, buttons, safety pins, and all manner of little trinkets!

Cotton: The attachment process is still the same as the felt method, but making the applique is a little different. Since cotton isn't as sturdy as felt, and it frays, you need to prepare it differently. Before you cut out your shape, iron on lightweight fusible interfacing (sold at Walmart--make sure it's compatible with woven fabric if your fabric isn't stretchy and knit fabric if it is). I've made appliques without interfacing before, but they'll hold their shape much better and be sturdier if you do use it, so I recommend taking the couple extra minutes to iron it on. On the wrong side of your fabric, iron on a patch of interfacing large enough to fit your shape, let it cool, and then cut out your shape. I used an X-acto knife to cut out the face of the jack-o-lantern, which did pretty well, but did cause a bit of fraying that I cleaned up with my fabric scissors. To seal the edges, you can sew a zig-zag stitch around them, use an overlocker/serger, or use Fray-Check or fabric glue. I chose to do a zig-zag stitch so it'd be less noticeable under my blanket stitch, but I've used my serger in the past, and it looks nice, too--especially if you use a contrasting color. Now the process is exactly the same as the felt one.

Remember, it's perfectly okay if it has that "homemade look," and it doesn't need to look perfect or symmetrical, by any means! This is about having a fun little project to do while watching a show or some YouTube videos and sipping on some hot cocoa, knowing that you'll get a cute new sweater out of it that'll be unique and your own. And it's also okay to use it as stay-at-home lounge wear if it looks as wonky as Mr. Crooked Smile the pumpkin over there. Have fun, learn new techniques, and make happy little accidents!

Happy crafting!