Cosmic Funnies
No title available
ojovivo
Product Placement
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
ellievsbear
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
if i look back, i am lost
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
macklin celebrini has autism
No title available
The Stonewall Inn
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
No title available
RMH
Kiana Khansmith
almost home
blake kathryn
seen from Brazil
seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Ecuador
seen from Colombia
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Iraq
seen from Vietnam
seen from Netherlands
seen from Albania
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Colombia
@battle-hardened-helicopter
//Need an eye in the sky; some rumor that there was a crashed down ship. Figure that you could do a fly over, maybe take some of the jets with you. Safety reasons, of course. If you accept, I’ll give you the full rundown.//
::Fine, kid. I don’t see why not -- would love to run around and play helicopter for my superiors. Make sure nobody shoots me this time.::
::Details. Now.::
“I ain’t no coward.” He snarled. “Ya wanna talk ‘bout cowards, look at yer commander. Tha’ is a coward, not us.” Ironhide took a few steps back, engine whining and growling like a caged wild dog. His blue optic flashed several different shades before settling on an icy blue. He grunted as one joint popped at the action. The old mech blinked once before rolling his shoulders. “Don test me, got it? I ain’t in no mood.”
“All Autobots are cowards, you included.” His voice firm, he shuttered his optics and they finally brightened. His engine rumbled to life, rotors lowering as he lifted a talon and tapped the thick and surrounding his throat. “After all, you have to bind us; too afraid of what we may do, even when we prove that we’re harmless.”
He dropped the servo, optics shifted away from those icy blues. “You ain’t in no mood, so what? You want to have tea and chat about our broken youth?”
Pseudobrookite
Thomas Range, Juab Co., Utah, USA
I was born sick But I love it Command me to be well
send me a (≚ᄌ≚)ƶƵ for my character's reaction to yours crawling into bed with them.
I do not fear DEATH. To have lived an empty life like there was no point in being born …that is what I fear most.
Ｎｏ ｏｎｅ
ｃ ｏ ｎ ｔ ｒ ｏ ｌ ｓ ｍｅ
ｂｕｔ ｍｅ
Ironhide hissed, turning his whole frame to face the other mech. His obsidian armour flared and rattled angrily as he narrowed his remaining optic right on back. He shifted slightly and lowered his helm in warning as a rumble escaped his engine.
“I’m not lookin’ for a fight either. Yer the one who threatened first, remember tha’, runt.”
The helicopter’s frame jerked, though hardly from the rattles and snarls but the very voice that echoed back at him. His optics narrowed, then cycled through once or twice to reset in hopes his vision cleared.
“Who are you calling a runt, grounder,” he grunted, but took a step back. No from fear but to not accidentally harm the Autobot. “Telling you that if you attack, you die is hardly a threat -- not when it comes to Autobots. Bunch of cowards, the whole lot.”
comin-in-cannons-blazin said:
Ironhide sees you, Blackout. He's going to stay alllllll the way over here.
Blackout may not notice Ironhide at first, staring across the way at him; his optics aren’t as functional as they should be, but other systems are running properly. Particularly the one that picked up on Autobot nearby.
Dimmed red optics narrowed, Blackout’s rotor blades spread as he growled lowly. “Not looking for a fight, Autobot -- if you fire on me, you won’t walk away.”
barricade2007 started following you
“Is this the part where I huff up real big and ask how the pit you’re still functioning?”
pleasurebxt said:
"Why did you do that?"
The pain was only brief, a small twitch before pain receptors were burnt away and a spinal strut was snapped. He didn't feel his frame hit the ground, crumbling into a pile of awkward limbs and rotor blades. Warnings obscured his vision, but that didn't stop him from hearing the poor buymech's voice.
“Why did you do that?”
Lips pulled back into a smirk, energon seeping past clenched denta. “B͢͢͠e̛͟ţt̛ȩ͘r̶̴͞ ͏q̡͜u҉e͏͘s̨͜t̛íǫ͞n͟; ̨w̵̶h̵̀ỳ ͟͏a͢͢r͢͢e͘ ̨ýóų̷́ ̷͝s͠t̵i҉̧l̷͟l̛ h͡e̡͢re̛?”
{{—MEME—}}
Long ago, the old helicopter had promised to never come to one of these clubs; a dark reminder of gladiatorial pits, where gladiators were forced against their freewill to entertain polished old nobles by murdering one another. It was similar – they both sold their own frames for a payout that truly wasn't worth it. Yet he still came, yet he still drank and tried to socialize with the best of them.
Yet still clutched a key card in one servo and traveled down a hall that dimmed at random times. He'd stop at the appropriate door – 444 – and slid the card through a lock on the side, ex-venting slowly to keep his nerves under control. Perhaps he shouldn't have drank with that pretty helicopter earlier, maybe his servos wouldn't be shaking right now.
The door parted, revealing the bare but colorful private room. He stepped inside, dim optics swept over the interior; he could see the pretty bot inside, stripped down to his protoform, and he nearly walked out. He'd already paid though, and that was enough to step inside and inhale sharply.
“Tiny thing,” he muttered, trying to sound enthusiastic and taunting, but it fell flat.
He made no further comment; just reached over and pressed the lock, before he could run from the very thing he'd paid for, and moved further into the room. He could smell purged energon and transfluid, and he flinched inwardly; Primus help him, this was the least aroused he'd ever been.
cool-and-collective said:
//Hey; I got a job for you if you're interested.//
::You got my attention, kid. Start spilling.::
DEFYING GRAVITY A CAPPELLA. BY BOYS. omfg. By the Washington University Stereotypes. Just bought it on iTunes, and had to share. Fuck I love this song.
Helicopters and Booze
The young medic-in-training jerked back when his personal space was invaded, field blaring with a fine mixture of offense and perhaps fear. It shifted though, pity bleeding into it. “Gladiators; I never saw one up close before, or heard much about it… but… that can’t be all you’re good for – killing, I mean,” he offered as gently as he could, placing his glass down. “You obviously have some sort of work, right? Given that you can afford to spend shanix here.”
A small smile was offered, the young helicopter tried not to sound too pushy or invading, “You’re not too old either; no one is too old to learn something new, to become something they want. You can’t seriously tell me that this – this war hero that stands before me plans to simply rust away.”
“You really are an Autobot, aren't you,” he scoffed, eying his glass instead of the youngling across the bar from him. “My records don't say hero, kid. That was saved for Autobots. Oh no, I'm a war criminal. Only got the job I did out of pity, and that they needed eyes in the air. I figure if it wasn't for Blast Off, I'd still be out in the wilderness, rusting and waiting.” He snorted, trying not to bark out a bitter laugh.
“I'm not interested in; patrolling and saving lives, it's not what I was programmed to do. Not that they care, as long as I'm in skies and out of their sight, they don't have to worry about me. I mean, think about it, kid, how many Decepticons do you see on the new council?”
