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brandwhorestarscream · 3 months

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tfa jazz/starscream/skyfire

Ohhhh this is so good. Jazz is a little older than Prowl, he knows aaaall about sex and sparklings unlike the vast majority of modern day autobots. But he hasn't had a partner in so god damn long, what with the ban on reproduction and the total erasure of all evidence of such things. What I'm saying is, when he somehow someway ends up with Skystar, it's a dream come true. He's too small to take either of them, so he gets to help Skyfire make a Starscream sandwich 😌

Maybe the flyers are in heat. Maybe they're just horny cuz Jazz has Unlimited Rizz™. Idk what the reasons are and I'm too tired to care. All I know is Jazz and Skyfire are double teaming the brat prince of Vos and knocking him up so hard.

(Yes ik he canonically doesn't have a spark anymore and so couldn't realistically sparkshare and couldn't get pregnant. I dont care I do what I want)

Both Skyfire and Jazz are bracing for Starscream to become damn near unmanageable. They're expecting him to go off the rails and become a total monster while the carrying cycle wreaks havoc on his body, and have been preparing everything in advance in an attempt to avoid setting him off in the future. Imagine their surprise when carrying Starscream is the exact opposite: he mellows out considerably. His attitude vanishes and suddenly he's loathe to ask for things, he becomes so sleepy and subdued getting him to make requests or admit to his needs is like pulling teeth. Deep down he's an incredibly insecure person and is terrified of being alone, being abandoned, and that shows through in entirely new ways while he's sparked. He doesn't want to burden them, hesitates to ask for even the slightest thing even if it's literally just a sip of their energon. He becomes incredibly indecisive, waffling about the slightest thing, and is always so incredibly drained of energy he spends the majority of his time sleeping or curled up in berth.

It's incredibly off-putting because this is Starscream. But some mecha are just like this when they're expecting, and he's apparently one of them. It's a nice change of pace, honestly, but they have to watch him closely to make sure he's getting enough fuel for all the bitties. He's rather clingy, too, always getting downtrodden when they have to get up for the day and desperately wanting them to stay and hold him. He latches onto Skyfire's arm when he's feeling particularly snuggly and just climgs onto his bicep, following him around, and will grab Jazz right off his pedes and wander away with him cuz the autobot is so small. The two of them always make time for his tactile needs 😌

When labor rolls around Starscream is a mess, sobbing and screaming about making sure they all live, that it hurts worse than anything he's ever experienced, that this is so much worse than cloning! One of his claws accidentally pierces right through poor Jazz's servo.

It's all worth it though, when their four bitties arrives, 3 little seekers and a teeny tiny civilian racer in Jazz's exact image. (We actually have some StarJazz babies already: Cloudhop, Vale, Sunshower, and Blues). They're so small Skyfire can hold all of them cupped in his huge servos. Jazz hasn't ever seen real sparklings as an adult before: he was part of one of the very last generations born naturally on Cybertron. He remembers being a kid, remembers other kids, but he's still blown away by how small they are. Even the jettwins, who he helped look after, were already half his size when they met due to their accelerated growth rate. These newborns are tiny, and he's marveling at baby Blues from the moment bitty is first placed in his arms. He about chokes when his son's tiny servo curls around one of his fingers, and his knees are shaking when Skyfire helps him sit down beside Starscream so they can all be together.

#ask game #jazz/starscream/skyfire

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yandere-society · 5 years

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can i request a yandere jimin that’s so dependent on the reader that when she goes to work and he stays home (because he’s out of work/works at home), he literally destroys himself and ends up going to her work looking like he was mauled by a bear (not literally but i hope you get the point). it’s totally fine if you don’t do it!!! — 🐹

Labor of Love

word count: 1.7k

author/admin: kimseokmomjins🥀

a/n: this contains extremely graphic depictions of self-harm and mentions of suicide, please read at your own discretion

The violent vibrations of your cellphone caused you to awake with a startle. You scrambled to silence your phone, knowing Jimin was not fond of his sleep being interrupted by nuisances, but hesitated when you saw your superior’s name illuminating the screen.

Manager Kim never called you, always electing to communicate through e-mail, so his call was a surprise to you, to say the least. Something must’ve gone wrong with the latest project. Carefully sliding out of the sheets so as to not wake Jimin, you scuttled away to your adjoining bathroom and accepted the call. Manager Kim gave you no room to speak, immediately cutting to the chase the second you answered.

“You need to come in now. Our client received your design and he claims it’s not what he asked for. Now the bastard wants something bigger, flashier, and done in 3 hours.” You cupped your hand around the receiver, keeping your voice hushed. “Namjoon, you know I can’t, I have—”

“Y/N,” he pleaded, “Please. I let you work from home seven days a week, I keep our correspondence solely through e-mail. I don’t ask questions about your lifestyle. I’m only asking you to help just this once.” His desperation pulled at your heartstrings, reminding you a lot of a certain someone. Inhaling, you shut your eyes tightly and acquiesced. “Fine, Namjoon. I’ll come in, but only for an hour or two.” You could practically hear the tension in his voice dissipate as he thanked you for your cooperation. “I knew I could count on you! I’ll see you soon, be prepared for a shitstorm.” Manager Kim ended the call abruptly, leaving you to contemplate your next decision.

There was no way Jimin would let you go into work, much less on such short notice. Some would call him controlling, or even downright insane, but to you, he was just a man with an extremely unhealthy inferiority complex. Jimin was someone who loved fiercely, passionately, but never believed people could reciprocate those same feelings towards him. Not even you, his wife of 3 years, who loved him more than life itself—who held him in her arms after every breakdown, every relapse.

But being the sole breadwinner of the household meant you had to make the difficult choice: either go to the office or get fired. Either way, you either risked potentially losing Jimin, or losing your house, the car and health insurance. Neither was ideal, but lately, Jimin had been in high spirits. His old scars had finally begun to heal, meaning he hadn’t cut himself in at least three weeks. Maybe he was capable of staying home alone for a few hours.

You looked at your phone’s digital clock. 6:58 a.m. Jimin seldom got up before noon, so you figured if you left now while he was asleep, you could make it back before he woke up. You rushed to make yourself presentable, trying to take as little time as possible, while also being as quiet as you could. Sneaking back into the bedroom, you knelt down on Jimin’s side of the bed and brushed the hair out of his face. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you gave him a tender kiss, hoping it wouldn’t be your last. “Minnie, baby,” you murmured so as to not stir him. He hummed in response, still deep in REM sleep, but slightly conscious. You continued, “I need to run to the office, okay? I’ll be back soon. I love you.” Jimin mumbled something incoherent and curled into his pillow, looking absolutely serene.

Collecting your purse, you head past the kitchen, your eyes catching sight of the knife block that sat on the marble countertop. Fearing Jimin might potentially spiral and relapse, you carried the heavy block to the hall closet and hid it behind a stack of quilts, hoping Jimin wouldn’t be desperate enough to tear apart the closet. With a determined nod of your head, you set off to work, saying your silent prayers that everything would be okay.

•·················•·················•

When Namjoon said work would be a shitstorm, he wasn’t exaggerating. Your client, a semi-famous rapper by the name of Agust D, whatever the hell that meant, decided that he didn’t like his promotional advertisements. Three days before his comeback. You were able to get the redesign done, but not without him hovering over your back and micromanaging every minuscule detail, down to the smallest pixel. After hours of edits, you finally had a moment to relax.

Checking your phone, your eyes widened when you saw that it was currently one in the afternoon. What was even more alarming was that you had over 13 missed calls and 54 unread text messages from Jimin. Fearing the worst, you unlocked your phone and began skimming through his messages, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

[Minnie 8:21 a.m]: hey baby, where’d you go?

[Minnie 8:23 a.m]: baby?

[Minnie 8:25 a.m]: Y/N?

[Minnie 8:30 a.m]: hello?????

[Minnie 8:34 a.m]: whatever you’re doing isn’t funny baby. please respond.

Your thumb scrolled upwards, towards the newer messages. The more recent, the more incoherent and unstable Jimin’s texts became.

[Minnie 12:41 p.m]: i get hthat u dotn lovve me anymore and im soty for ebeingf stupoid and ugly and uselass im sorry for a being patheic

[Minnie 12:41 p.m]: i’

[Minnie 12:41 p.m]: i’ll end it all fro u

[Minnie 12:42 p.m]: YOU’RE MY FUCKOING EVERYTHISNG YOU FUCKING DONT UNETRESTAND I FUCKIGN NEED U Y/N

[Minnie 12:43 p.m]: DO I NEEFD TO CARVE YIUR NAME INTWO MY CHEST TO MAKE YOU HAPPY?????

By now, fat, hot tears were streaming down your face, dotting the screen of your phone. You eyed the last message you had received, an attachment sent at exactly 1 p.m. Sprinting out of the office without a single word to your superior or client, you frantically played the voice message Jimin had sent. His soft voice echoed in the corridor as you dashed down the stairs and towards the parking garage, filling your heart and mind with worry.

‘Y/N, my love, my life, my everything,’ he began, his voice hoarse and cracking, likely from emotional duress. ‘You’ve abandoned me, and I don’t blame you. I’m stupid, incompetent and a waste of space. You complete me, I am nothing without you. And now that you’ve left me, I have nothing else to live for.’ Fumbling around in your purse in search for your car keys, you finally found the object of your search and unlocked your car, hurriedly shoving the keys in the ignition and peeling out of the garage. You couldn’t bear listening to more of the voice message, instead choosing to dial Jimin with the assistance of your Bluetooth controls. Each one was immediately redirected to voicemail, but you persisted in the barrage of phone calls.

What was no more than a 12-minute drive felt like millennia, your heart thumping so hard that you heard your pulse reverberating in your ears. You raced up the stairs of your unit, taking them two at a time, hoping that it wasn’t too late—pleading with any Higher, Holy beings to let Jimin be okay. Your hands trembled so furiously that it was nearly impossible to unlock your door until finally, you were somehow able to enter the threshold of your apartment. Greeted with nothing but an eerie silence, you began to fear the worst.

Usually, when Jimin had a breakdown, he screamed and destroyed everything in sight, but all of your decor was exactly as how you’d left it in the morning. The only trace your husband’s presence was the shattered picture frame that lay discarded on the dining room table, a chunk of glass missing. Your eyes traced over the worn mahogany surface before they settled on speckles of blood. You scanned the perimeter, looking for any clues that could lead you to Jimin. Following the droplets, you were led to your balcony, which overlooked the Dongdaemun shopping district. The gentle purr of cars wafted through the ajar french doors, and perched on the balcony railing was a defeated, scarred Jimin. He hadn’t noticed you, at least, not yet. But you noticed him and his current state. Arms streaked with blood— staining his pajama shirt and boxers a light pink— legs dangling idly from the metal railing as if he wasn’t four stories above a busy street, ready to plummet to his death. He looked content, serene, even.

“Jimin, sweetie,” you choked, words catching in your throat at the sight before you. “What are you—” Before you had time to finish your question, Jimin lept off the railing and threw himself at you and into your arms. Violent sobs wracked his body as he clung to you, like a lost child would to his mother. “I th-thought you had l-l-left m-me,” your husband hiccuped. His hold on you was vice-like, and his wounds were, without a doubt, staining your blouse. “Why did you leave me,” he half-shouted, half-pleaded. “I lost control because of you. I almost ended it all for you.”

You found yourself at a loss for words. You didn’t consider your absence would affect Jimin so profoundly— to the point where he thought suicide was the only way to cope. You almost lost him; almost lost the love of your life. And it was all because of your selfish impulsiveness. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand toying with the baby hairs on the nape of his neck, knowing affection was the best way to calm him down. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” you cooed, tears pricking your eyes. “Please forgive me, I’m so, so sorry. I love you, okay? Don’t ever doubt my feelings for you.” Your husband looked at you with those big, brown eyes that shone so brightly, so innocently. The eyes you loved dearly.

“Promise?” He asked, his grip around you tightening slightly. “I promise,” you replied with a bittersweet smile. You knew that this would be the turning point of your marriage— you could never trust Jimin to be alone, not even for a few hours. You’d have to sacrifice your freedom, your career, to ensure his safety. But it was worth it just to see him live another day.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up, alright Minnie?” He nodded meekly, letting you lead him towards the washroom so you could tend to his wounds, just like always.

Time and time again, you’d be there to repair Jimin when he broke down, disregarding the fact that you yourself were the one that was crumbling under all the stress. After all, loving Park Jimin was an arduous affair.

#bts yandere #bts yandere fanfic #park jimin fanfic #park jimin yandere #yandere kpop #yandere kpop fanfic

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alloverthegaf · 5 years

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Hi, I don't follow australian politics very closely, can you give me a run down of whats happening? I also completely get if you dont have the spoons to do that, I thought I'd try to get the opinion of someone involved :)

I’m totally happy to but I definitely want to emphasise I am not the most informed about any of this, I’m merely basing my observations and reactions off of what I do know and have seen.

It’s election night; we have two major political parties (the LNP or Liberal Party, which is right wing, and the Labor Party, which is much more left wing but occasionally will bow to right wing ideas) as well as the Greens (environmentally focused) and other independents.

Aussie politics has been a mess for a good number of years now because whoever’s in parliament keeps fucking up big enough to turn the majority of the public against them, think they can fix it by forcing out the Prime Minister (from their own party) and replacing them with someone new that no one knows or trusts, and thus causing new elections to happen before a Prime Minister’s term is officially up for re-election.

Anyways tonight everyone’s losing their mind because ALL the early prediction polls claimed Labor was in for a big, impressive win, and now that it’s coming down to the wire it’s looking like Liberal might still win a majority parliament. The other options at this point are Liberal winning a minority government, which means they are technically in charge but will still have to work to garner votes within the lower (and/or upper? again, not an expert) house when they want to pass legislation.

At this point I was going to discuss the best case scenario of a hung parliament, but from what I’m seeing in the headlines at this moment in time, it looks like even that’s a lost cause. It’s looking like we’re stuck with the LNP for another good fucking three years, which means coal mines are going to continue to come before climate change, christianity is going to continue to be idolised while eastern religions are feared, and queer people will continue to not feel accepted by their government or the public.

Plenty of Liberal brown nosers have put a lot of enthusiasm into explaining how the Labor and Greens parties putting the impact of climate change before that of the Australian economy was clearly an idiotic move and crawled all over themselves to enthuse about what an amazing man Scott Morrison (Liberal PM) is, and how it was just another nail in Labor’s coffin that his religious beliefs were questioned.

If you’re looking for a few more notes, Clive Palmer, an oil tycoon, spent 60 to 80 million (not sure which is the right figure) dollars on his own bullshit campaign and is now claiming responsibility for the LNP’s victory, and Pauline Hanson, a woman known to claim Asian people are taking over Sydney suburbs, rail against multiculturalism and immigration, and claim that global warming isn’t the fault of humans because humans didn’t cause the death of dinosaurs (no, seriously) continues to lead her own political party with the name One Nation.

On the bright side we now have a kid famously known as ‘egg boy’ because he threw an egg at a racist politician

#non fandom #asks #straya #auspol #if I need to correct any info pls let me know it's late and I am not the most informed #ch0colatewings

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