@meridianbarony is an enabler and honestly thank god because this finally broke the writer’s block. ❤
Also because my boy has a new potential boyfriend and how could I not.
Title: Winning
Series: TFIDW/MTMTE/LL
Ship(s): Swerve/Misfire
Rating/warnings: E for sticky interface, blow jobs, kinda spike worship, talking while fragging, snowballing, and just a lot of good silliness while fragging
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“Is red actually my color?”
Misfire stilled mid-bob, flickering his optics back to life to look up at Swerve. While his helm had stopped moving, his tongue was still warm and wet and pressed against the underside of Swerve’s spike in a way that nearly distracted him completely.
Nearly.
But there was no ignoring the hot shock of shame and apprehension. Misfire was going to think he had been distracted, not paying attention, and he’d be offended and affronted that Swerve would be thinking about anything else while getting his spike sucked—
And yet, Misfire didn’t look the least bit annoyed. If anything he looked thoughtful as he pulled off of Swerve’s spike with an audible pop. His optics locked with Swerve’s as he rubbed his check against Swerve’s spike, seeming to not care at all about the oral lubricant it smeared across the surface.
“Is red anyone’s color?”
Misfire’s servo was relentless as it squeezed and released Swerve’s spike, stroking lazily with no rhythm to speak of, and still pressing it against the side of his face. Pleasure coiled low in Swerve’s frame as he groaned.
“I mean, a lot of bots have red–”
“Exactly!” Misfire interrupted. “So many mechs have red as part of their colorscheme that like. Even if it looks good, it’s not, you know. Unique. Especially with you Bots. Every other one of you got red somewhere on there.”
Swerve might have been insulted if Misfire wasn’t nuzzling against his spike like it was a beloved pet.
“Like you guys don’t have a disproportionate love for purple.”
Misfire held a servo to his chest, jaw dropped and looking appalled with a level of theatrics that somehow didn’t seem at all at odds with the short fat spike still held tight to his cheek.
“How dare you. I’ll have you know this shade of purple is very unique. They don’t call it The Misfire Special for nothing.”
And Swerve couldn’t help it – he started to giggle.
Which turned into hiccups when Misfire shifted his helm down, keeping Swerve’s spike pressed to his face while sticking his glossa out to flick at the anterior node nestled just below his spike sheath.
“Ok, fine, you got me,” Misfire continued, his nose nudging along the platelets of Swerve’s spike and his ex-vents cool against Swerve’s valve lips. Swerve’s laughter finally dissipated with a shuddering moan. “But you gotta admit that I make it look good.”
“Well, obviously,” Swerve managed breathlessly. His hips bucked as Misfire mouthed at the base of his spike, lapping and sucking his way back up to the tip. “But do I look good in red?”
Misfire looked at him very carefully, his optics bright as they traced Swerve’s frame. Or, at least, as much of it that he could see with his face all but planted in Swerve’s crotch.
His lips brushed across the head the spike as he spoke.
“Ok, listen. Folks got a lot of great things to say about me, but even I’ll admit that being nice isn’t one of them,” Misfire said. He nudged at Swerve’s spike with his chin guard as a grin started to pull at his lips. “But honestly? Most bots with red could and should find a better color, but I can’t imagine you in anything else. Like, you’re committed to red, and it’s definitely working for you.”
Swerve whined as scolding hot pleasure washed over him in pulsing waves.
Misfire’s grin grew so wide it nearly split his face.
“Theeeere it is,” he singsonged gleefully. “Found your weakspot, pipsqueak.”
His glossa was slick as it swirled around the tip of Swerve’s spike, tasting the bead of transfluid that had escaped.
“Nothing like a compliment to get you off, huh? You sick little puppy.” Swerve’s spike twitched in Misfire’s hold as he ex-vented, biting his bottom lip tight between his denta.
“It’s pretty weird, huh?”
Misfire shrugged.
“Maybe, but I love it.” The servo was stroking again as Misfire rubbed his face against the fat spike. “I can’t wait to learn how to be nice so I can give you a boner whenever I want.”
Another wave of pleasure hit at the same time that Swerve’s spark throbbed with emotion, and with a short litany of surprised curses, overload took hold of his frame without warning. Hips jerked and transfluid escaped in bursts as Swerve panted and trembled against Misfire.
The flyer’s engine purred.
“Guess you can’t aim either, huh, pipsqueak?”
Swerve onlined his visor to see that his transfluid painted the side of Misfire’s face, some having shot hard enough to catch on his helm ornament while the rest dripped down to collect between his chin and cheek guards. His glossa was sticking out to the side in an attempt to lap up some of the mess around his mouth.
Swerve meant to apologize. To say that he hadn’t realized he was so close, that he tried to hold back, that he could go get something to clean up the mess—
“Brainstorm literally made a gun just for me because I have such bad aim.”
And instead of teasing him about it, Misfire’s optics flickered as he replied, “I have got to get me one of those.”
Swerve, in his post-overload bliss, couldn’t stop himself from giggling at the mental image of Misfire carrying the ridiculous looking “My First Blaster.” And about the fact that they both had terrible aim. And the fact that Misfire continued to be on the same topic-hopping wavelength as Swerve, proving to not be the least bit put off by having unsexy conversations during every step of interfacing.
Swerve’s spark warmed with bubbly affection.
Misfire pushed up so he was face-to-face with Swerve, smacking his lips as he finished the last of the transfluid that he could reach. “You just gonna keep laughing, or are you gonna help me clean up this mess you made.”
“Yeah, yeah, hold on,” Swerve managed between giggles. His servo moved to his side to dip into his subspace, but Misfire’s servo caught him by the wrist first.
“Lick it up but don’t swallow,” Misfire said, and as much as it was worded like an order, it sounded more like gleeful conspiring,
Swerve snorted as he asked, “Seriously?”
And Misfire puffed his bottom lip out in a pout while transfluid still dripped down his face.
And his optics glittered when Swerve just started laughing again, even as he leaned in closer.
It took a moment, but Swerve managed to focus enough to curl his glossa as he licked up Misfire’s cheek, catching a little pool that he held there as he pulled back. The mystery didn’t go unanswered for long though as Misfire grasped Swerve’s face with both servos and leaned back in to thrust his glossa into Swerve’s mouth, swirling to catch the transfluid and swallow it down himself. Swerve shuddered and opened his mouth wider for Misfire, and he couldn’t help noticing that his whines were met with an equal number of rumbling hums and groans from Misfire as he licked Swerve’s glossa and mouth clean of transfluid.
“Gross.”
Misfire licked his lips.
“Liar. You loved it.”
“I can think it’s gross and still love it,” Swerve pointed out and Misfire just grinned wider.
“Neither of us know how to shut up, or how to aim, and we both have nasty oral fixations?” Misfire asked as he lifted his servo to his face, swiping more of the transfluid off. The dirtied digits immediately were caught between Misfire’s lips and he sucked them clean, slipping his glossa between and across them as he did, all while his gaze was focused on Swerve’s.
Swerve didn’t know if he had ever depressurized after his overload, but he did know he was fully rigid now as he stammered, “Wait, don’t swallow,” and pressed his mouth to Misfire’s in a messy tangle of glossae and digits and transfluid and loud, drawn out moans.
By the time Misfire’s face was finally clean, he had Swerve pressed back into the berth and his servo back around Swerve’s spike.
“What’s your opinion on clone-fucking, pipsqueak?”
Swerve shuddered as he grabbed at Misfire’s thighs where they straddled the minibot’s hips. Misfire’s valve dripped lubricant down onto Swerve’s sensitive array and his hips drifted down just enough to let the lips kiss the tip of Swerve’s spike.
“I’m very pro clone-fucking.”
“Yet another thing we have in common,” Misfire announced with glee before dropping down to completely encase Swerve inside his hot clenching valve. Swerve hadn’t even overloaded yet, wasn’t even over that first wave of pleasure with Misfire around him, and already he couldn’t wait to lick his transfluid out of Misfire’s valve.
And when Swerve told Misfire that, the flyer gasped out “Oh frag yes” as his valve spiraled tight in overload.
The universe was so going to regret letting them meet, and it Swerve loved it.
Do NOT donate to this person @cara-likes-cereal. They are at least partially lying about their situation, and might be completely lying. The photo with long hair is from 2016, she got a pixie cut in JANUARY of this year. Something is not adding up
this person isn’t being truthful, do not donate to them until they are completely honest, protect yourself
Please be safe with your money. People who know her in real life say she’s a compulsive liar and that this may be a scam.
Post is barely a week old and she’s deactivated, yeah it’s a scam.
It makes me sick that people do these things. There are people out there that really are forced into conversion therapy and have these horrible things done to them because of their sexuality. To scam money from a very supportive group of people makes you almost as worse as those that force people into conversion therapy. If you have donated money to this person I am sorry that this has happened.
Just a little more proof here you guys. Please if you’ve reblogged the original post update it so people will know it’s a scam and will stop giving her money.
– The film “Sucker Punch” had a sex scene between a male and female where the female character was in control of her own sexuality.
– The MPAA would only allow it after it was edited to look like the girl wasn’t into it and the guy was taking advantage of her.
– Note that if the sex scene had been kept as originally planned and filmed, then the film would have been given an “R” rating – but with the guy taking advantage it was a PG-13.
– The director didn’t want to send that message so he just cut it completely.
If that doesn’t say something about the media and women/female sexuality then I don’t know what will.
The actress who played said female character, Emily Browning, stated:
“I had a very tame and mild love scene with Jon Hamm. It was like heavy breathing and making out. It was hardly a sex scene… I think that it’s great for this young girl to actually take control of her own sexuality. Well, the MPAA doesn’t like that. They don’t think a girl should ever be in control of her own sexuality because they’re from the Stone Age.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on and I will openly criticize it, happily. So essentially, they got Zack to edit the scene and make it look less like she’s into it. And Zack said he edited it down to the point where it looked like he was taking advantage of her. That’s the only way he could get a PG-13 (rating) and he said, ‘I don’t want to send that message.’ So they cut the scene!
I’m torn. I want an ‘R’ (rating) because we can get a lot of cool scenes into it, but then I like the idea of younger girls being able to see it.”
Actually there’s a great documentary from about ten years ago called ‘This Film Is Not Yet Rated’ and they go into depth about the strangeness and the sexism surrounding the MPAA, in an interview for the documentary, the director of the LGBT film, ‘But I’m A Cheerleader’ complains that her was slapped with an NC-17 (which means no one under 17 can see the film, period) initially partially because of a scene where the main character is masturbating over her clothes, but ‘American Pie’ was already rated R (meaning anyone under 17 can see it if accompanied by someone of age) and the freaking TRAILERS showed the main character masturbating into an apple pie with his pants and underwear clearly between his ankles. There’s a later segment where they show multiple side by side comparisons of scenes of masturbating characters in films rated R vs rated NC-17, and only consistent difference was that R films featured men getting off and the NC-17 ones showed women doing the same. Similar angles, similar elements surrounding each scene, but one was a woman so NC-17!
Another great bit from the documentary, was that multiple films were slapped with NC-17 because they had sex scenes where a woman’s face was shown while she orgasmed, and the MPAA insisted these scenes were shown too long and were therefore “offensive.” You can’t make this shit up people
Bad: Aliens who are bewildered by basic aspects of human society like cooking food and wearing clothes, implying that no similar practices exist anywhere else in the universe.
Good: Aliens who regard human society as largely unremarkable, but if questioned it rapidly becomes apparent that their understanding of the motive and purpose of various human cultural practices is subtly yet bizarrely askew.
“Ah, I see you have placed a simple lock upon the lavatory door for when you are… eliminating waste. I understand.”
“Thank you, Zazar…”
“You wish to make it harder for your enemies to ambush you during a moment of vulnerability. Very clever!”
“Wait, what?!”
“You wish to make sure that the parasitic lifeforms harbored in your intestines cannot escape without facing you in battle! How noble!”
Everyone agrees! Your intestines squirming around like eels in your belly is horrifying!
IM SORRY THEY FUCKING WHAT NOW?
The racks even have hooks to keep them from squirming right off and onto the floor apparently. They desperately want to escape our bodies
Intestines are muscles, and function involuntarily. If your muscles did not squirm around, then they wouldn’t be able to move food through them, thus you wouldn’t gain any nutrients from anything you eat, and the food would spoil and make you sick. I agree the squirmy wormies are a bit unsettling, but hey it’s actually really good for you! Your intestines work so hard for it! Please give them a little love.
I don’t like that get them out
Okay…this is unsettling.
This post is actually my nightmare
Breaking News! You are full of eels!
Vultures!
A rac.coon got run over in the road early this morning, and I went and got it out of the road so the vultures wouldn’t get run over trying to eat it. Here they are as photographed from the window facing the street.
Image descriptions and general narration below, bird IDs in the captions.
[image: two large, glossy black birds with naked grey heads+necks standing next to a heap of guts and striped fur]
These are the first arrivals, they turned up right after each other. Two adult black vultures, I think potentially a mated pair.
[image: the same birds, both with their heads raised, one standing up tall, looking in the same direction]
I opened the window and made a generic bird “wheep! wheep!” alarm call to get their attention, and their heads went up. I left them alone after that, just took pics from the window.
[image: a similar bird, but slightly smaller and with less glossy feathers, standing on a sidewalk. It shows that the birds have long legs and white feet. ]
This is the next arrival. Another black vulture, I think younger than them. The older two wouldn’t let him eat until they were finished.
[image: the same three birds as before, plus a new arrival. The new bird is slightly larger and dark brown, its feathers marked with small pale flecks along its wings. Its head is pink and the feathers come up along its neck to the back of its head. The two glossy birds are eating from the carcass, the younger black bird is watching, and the brown bird is inspecting the dry grass nearby.]
That’s a turkey vulture. Ended up with two more turning up later, but didn’t get good pics of them. The black vultures wouldn’t let him eat either, he had to wait.
[image: the four birds, but spread out, showing that a road is about 6-8 feet behind the carcass. The brown bird is far away, to the left, and on the other side of the road. The younger black bird is in the center of the image, standing in the road, and the two older black birds are still eating.]
There were still some gut bits in the road, so the turkey and the younger black vulture went out there when there weren’t any cars coming and picked up some guts. They got honked at a lot.
[image: the brown bird in flight, near the road. The underside of one wing is visible and is pale grey. The front steps of a church are visible in the background, as is the church sign, though the letters have been covered over in a program like Paint to prevent identification.]
Covered the sign and didn’t show the entire church to prevent my location being identified, it’s a pretty distinctive building. This is the turkey vulture mid-flight after a car got too close. Not pictured: the turkey vulture perching on the church sign itself to watch the others.
All six birds got to eat some amount or another, but they had to wait for the first two to eat. I turned the carcass over after these pics to let the vultures get easier access to the guts, and they’re perched in nearby trees waiting for it to stop raining. Once they’re done eating, I’m going to go and see if I can get any salvageable bones from the rac.coon. The lower jaws might be in good enough shape to use for crafts, and the paws, I think, are intact. May be able to get the bones from the paws.
“If poor people knew how rich rich people are, there would be riots in the streets.”
This article is a bunch of numbers and data and it doesn’t really paint a very vivid picture of the problem.
So here’s an example that I assure you is 100% real.
My dad works on boats. Not in any capacity that makes a lot of money (he basically inspects their fire systems), but he gets to set foot on the luxury yachts of the most mindblowingly wealthy people on earth. People who have so much money they have to invent new and absurd ways to even spend it. People who barely work for a living because they have so much goddamn money they spend most of their lives in perpetual vacation having other people manage anything of importance while their “bootstraps” are nowhere to be found.
And I don’t mean 30-60 foot fishing boats, I mean the REAL luxury yachts, for which 150 feet counts as a smaller size. It’s fairly common for them to be around 180ish feet, more rarely as much as 200. Boats personally owned by individual people that have helicopter landing pads (plural) and more. These are floating super mansions that these people own for fun.
Most of them are huge, incompetent assholes who wouldn’t last a day in the rest of the world without people sucking up to them because of their money.
But this is about what one guy, one STUPIDLY RICH jackass, has come up with as a way to spend a tiny fraction of his money.
Persian rugs are like, the stereotype of a priceless artifact that is impossible to replace. Anywhere you see one on display there is enormous care taken not to damage them or to allow people to touch them. Some of them are well over a thousand years old, and while it’s possible for modern textiles to produce similar designs, the real ones are fragile, in limited supply, impossible to replace, and very expensive.
Every couple of years this guy buys one, has it cut into the correct shape, and gets it installed as carpeting – to be walked on – in one room on his yacht. After it wears out it gets stripped off the floor and thrown away, and he buys a new one.
Priceless, irreplaceable artifacts that cost millions of dollars each are disposable, temporary carpeting for these people. And this is not the richest person my dad has ever worked for. Nor is his the biggest or most expensive boat.
One of them has a yacht with a huge, multimillion-dollar setup on the back for his personal luxury submarine.
The ultra-wealthy are too goddamn rich. WAY beyond even what people who think they know what rich looks like would ever imagine.
Fortunately, their appetites are curbed somewhat by the fact that they get most of their energy directly from Soundwave. Unfortunately, they still want to chew on things, they’ve decided that fuel pumps are delicious. Soundwave just sighs and bribes them with candy to not go out and start chewing on every corpse on a battlefield. At least Ravage has the sense of smell required to tell if a corpse is infected with something that makes it dangerous to eat.
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