d e v o n
No title available
almost home
Product Placement
ojovivo
taylor price
KIROKAZE
No title available
dirt enthusiast
roma★
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
★
sheepfilms
Monterey Bay Aquarium
hello vonnie
JVL
Peter Solarz
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Three Goblin Art
trying on a metaphor
seen from Egypt
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Austria
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Greece
seen from Brazil
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
@hedonisticmedic
unsurpent:
you know , if i cared , i might be worried for your mental health . it’s not good to talk about yourself like that .
☤ — Is that the best insult you have me? Disappointing. I expected too much from a Decepticon, it seems. Maybe that’s why Ambulon left them? Their banter is so dull. Will need more testing.
unsurpent:
feeling threatened ?
☤ — Why would I feel threatened by a rubbish bin? Don’t be ridiculous. You’re more of a threat to yourself than anyone else.
unsurpent liked your post:☤ — I would very much like some attention.
☤ — Not by you!
☤ — I would very much like some attention.
musicpurist:
“You make it sound as if I forced you, Pharma.” Tarn’s optics glittered, his tone never changing from that slow purr, his voice almost amused. “All I ever did was free you. You would never have made the developments you did, if I had not pressed you.”
His other arm came up, then, pinching Pharma’s wing, twisting the edge, before settling into a smooth stroke along the edges. “And why should we have come? You said it yourself- you tried to kill us.”
A pause, and then he added, attention shifting away from Pharma, “…Deadlock lives?”
Any biting response was lost when Tarn found his soft spots, both pleasure & agony swept through his sensors. He arched his wing into the touch, vents hissing out warmed air as his frame began to heat beyond his control. His frame not only heated on its own but moved as well, hips jolted out &pressed against Tarn while his digits dug into seams to cling for support.
“You’re teasing me. How dare you. Acting like you’re some... savior when all you are is some nobody junkie.”
His wild blue optics lifted & locked on Tarn, watching for a moment then his rage & arousal turned to cold. His frame twisted & he looped an arm around Tarn’s shoulders, attempting to pull him down to his height. His mouth twitched into a smirk & voice lowered, barely above a whisper.
“Deadlock lives, Tarn. I saw him with Ratchet. He was right outside your door. You missed him because you abandoned me. You didn’t keep me close enough. I even know where he is right now.”
musicpurist:
Tarn’s vocalizer cued to respond, perhaps even another threat- but then Pharma was moving forward, not away, of his own volition, and the large mech only stared down at him, momentarily thrown for a loop; his vocalizer clicked, failed to engage before with a mental snarl he forcibly rebooted it.
“This is not a game. You deserted us, tried to kill us.” he managed, finally. “You will pay for that, my dear Pharma.”
“Deserted you? That makes it sound like we were on the same side. You forget yourself easily. I humored you to protect the safety of my facility. I killed for you. Backed into a corner, sure, I plotted your death, but look at you, still alive. In one piece.”
Pharma’s nimble servos trailed down, expression twisting with venom & anger. His wings unfolded & spread, teeth bared like some feral beast. His energies were all over; anger, betrayal, fear, amusement.
“Do you know what they did to me? Because of you, the Primus damned junkie? Your pet Deadlock cut off my servos. I didn’t abandon Delphi. My very function was ripped from me. The one who found me, repaired me? It wasn’t you.”
He paused. Everything seemed to calm at that moment; Pharma was back to pressing against Tarn, his voice purring once more.
“So you tell me, my dearest. Who deserted who?”
musicpurist
Tarn’s optics flashed, once, before one servo reached out, intending to seize Pharma’s nearer wing to drag him closer.
“I don’t seem to remember you being this…. mouthy, my dear.” he purred back, masked helm tilting down, slightly, to lock optics with the jet, his voice rippling with the faintest hint of his ability.
“Perhaps we need to remind you of manners.”
Pharma’s wing had been an easy enough grab but Tarn wouldn’t have to drag him, oh no, Pharma moved forward & pressed his cockpit against Tarn’s frame. Despite the painful twist of his spark, due to Tarn’s voice, he kept his gaze locked on his.
“I was afraid of you.”
It was a strange thing to admit, a quiet purr to his voice as servos grasped at his treads.
“I was afraid to die. Now? Not so much. Perhaps you can beat it into me. In more ways than just with your fists.”
"Pharma. Tsk. I hear you've been... misbehaving." (musicpurist)
“Oh my, oh my. I thought the D.J.D. only punished naughty Decepticons. I fear I don’t fall into that category. Or perhaps this is a personal call. Oh!”
“How kinky. Remember, I like it rough, dear. Think you can keep up? You never did before.”
cool-and-collective:
//You know, I kind of like you.//
//How’s prison?//
☤ — Oh, you haven’t heard? I’ve been released on good behavior. Imagine that.
@hedonisticmedic
//Hey, I got a question – is it a Pharma thing to like being told their pretty? Do you make bird noises too? Askin’ for science.//
☤ — Is it a Jazz thing to be an absolute wanker?
☤ — I feel like everything I’ve tried to teach you went in one audio & out the other.
you don't like Decepticons, of your universe, but what about Decepticons of say, the one where they're the good fellas.
☤ — What are you even talking about? A Decepticon is a Decepticon, and none of them are particularly good. I believe you should get your head examined.
‘I’m going to rewrite the rules & verses & other nonsense!’ I said.
‘I should work on a new theme,’ I decided instead.
defectedfailure:
✗— oh. it’s doctor djd. how unfortunate that it seems you survived your fall. & have slipped further down the rabbit-hole of complete & utter maddness. great.
☤ — Such stinging insults from someone who I sacrificed everything for. I was good to you, Ambulon. I could have fed you to the DJD. Hell, I could have locked you away, you were a Decepticon after all, but no. I chose to keep you, train you, give you a purpose when you had none. & this is how you repay me? Ungrateful gnat.
( PLEASE FORGIVE ME ) ( PLEASE FORGIVE ME ) ( PLEASE FORGIVE ME )
striking a deal
THE BURN OF HALF processed energon coated his throat and the stale taste filled his mouth as he gaged and choked. The little energon that First Aid had managed to coax him to drink earlier was expelled into a bin. The same bin he’d been draped over for days.
HIS VENTS HEAVED AND his processor fogged over for a moment, feeling lighter than it should. The next thing he knew, he was curled on his side and sprawl out on the shower’s floor.
THAT TERRORCON HAD BETTER hope that Torrent never ran into him or his pet helicopter again. He had plans to behead whichever one he saw first, deliver the helm to the other before dismantling him as well. Frag that low castle whore and her council, revenge for this were squirming in his processors as he tried to fight down another wave of illness.
BUT THAT WAS NEITHER here or there, Torrent helm pounded too hard and his frame felt as though a fire burned through his lines. Paranoia set in and he knew–KNEW–he needed a medic that wasn’t some Decepticon sympathizer.
DESPERATION SET IN BEFORE he could stop it. His comm opened and he sent a ping to a forgotten channel, one that had come with warnings and harsh words of his brethren. And when it had been picked up, his voice croaked out;
»Pharma.«
“You can’t come back from this, Pharma. You’re too far gone. I’m sorry. This is your fate now.”
That was what they told him so long ago, before they locked him up & threw away the key. They failed him;; they put a medical facility in DJD territory, they dumped an ex-Decepticon on his doorstep, they allowed him to feel useless & backed into a corner. They were the ones saddling him with two inexperienced medics, who lacked the common sense to see what the stress & pressure of their situation put on his mental health.
The world failed to see Pharma’s fall into madness & now he was being punished for it. A dirty secret to be locked away, to be forgotten. Guards ignored his ranting & ravings & the only Autobot he’d seen since his imprisonment was a medic that came to repair him after he’d tried to rip his own spark chamber open.
They were not going to redeem him, so why not allow him to die in the dingy cell that smelled of spilled energon & death? Why stop him when his deactivation would save time & energy? When Ratchet wouldn’t even look him in the optic? First Aid, gone. Ambulon, gone. His very function--
A voice crackled to life over his disused comm & his optics onlined once more. His helm lifted & gaze scanned over his surroundings, nothing, not even a guard in sight. He drew in a vent & shuffled to his pedes, speaking in a hoarse tone.
☤ — How did you get this comm channel?
