I will
rip you
to
fucking
p i e c e s
Claire Keane
hello vonnie
wallacepolsom
🪼
taylor price
Stranger Things

No title available

Kaledo Art
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
AnasAbdin
dirt enthusiast
Monterey Bay Aquarium

#extradirty
No title available
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
DEAR READER
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Mike Driver
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

ellievsbear
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Australia
seen from Chile

seen from Japan
seen from Russia

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from France

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Sri Lanka
seen from Ireland
@noneedtoinvite
I will
rip you
to
fucking
p i e c e s
Misfire watched in boredom as he waited for the energon to boil. The worst part of trying to make tea was the wait.
But the burgundy Seeker flinched when he heard something slam from the other end of the link.
::You can still get that bonus, if you want. I’ve got an extra container that’s broken, if you don’t mind getting something that doesn’t like closing right.:: he laughed nervously, turning his helm slightly as if to look at Skyfault even though he wasn’t there.
::Yeah, you’re allowed over. I’m making tea now, I’ll make some for you, too.::
Skyfault had nearly bolted from his living quarters the moment he was give the okay to come over. There was something inside that had slowly begun to crawl its way inside his processor. Something that had drawn him to the burgundy Seeker. It was as though the other were one of the sweetened doses of energon that had him hooked. He'd had a taste, and now he wanted more. He was doomed at this rate, doomed to opening up to the other. Doomed to show Misfire a side of him that only one spark had the opportunity to experience.
But it was not entirely a bad thing. No, it was good. Change in such a case was to be honored. It wasn't often the seeker found someone so trustworthy. ::Alright!:: The response was lively, a litter more than called for before the line would go quiet as the seeker would trip on his way off of the Excidium Revenant. ::O-okay, if I open full thrust, I could be there in a matter of.... oh a while. But it's better than going all grounder on this. That'd take forever.::
BUTT-THRUSTERS-IGNITE
LITEWIRE RULES BLACKBOX Independant Transformers RP & ASK Blog Contains NSFW content || Semi- Selective || Dual Muse
[[This human behind the lame robots wanted to share his lame birthday cake with everyone.]]
UPDATE
[[This blog will resume as normal once I wait one last thing out. Hopefully in a week, things will be good enough to return. Thank you all for sticking it out and especially, to everyone who did and has shared kind words with me.]]
[[R.I.P Onchu, Sept. 8th 2006 to Feb 25th 2015. . . Don't know what I'll do without you anymore when the going gets tough. But here is to hoping I never lose the memories gathered. The good, and the bad.]]
Shifting Winds - Prologue
Explosions had littered the quarry, the newest expansion of cave networks being added into the planets core. The project would cut into some small expanses of civilization pockets, the rogue cybertronians, often the outcasts who'd fared better out of the eyes of judgement, out of the eyes of the law. It was here that Draglock had been born. The blasts would strike home, closer to some of the underground compounds, shaking the living space and its inhabitants from the foundations up. Walls would groan, lights would flicker before pieces of paneling would begin to give way under the shifting weight of terra.
here let me just show you my ocs.. (reaches into a trash can)
Make fun of Rekam's pink biolights and optics and it'll get brushed under the rug. Make fun of Brecken's minty fresh paint job and you'll be pummeled into the ground, courtesy of Rekam.
(( I present Flak wearing (from Knee joint down) a pair of G1 Megatron legs/pedes while carrying a Draglock. Yes, Drags feet are bigger than his helm. He is a mass of bad proportions.))
Prowl was in the trees but then one of the branches snaps and he falls to the ground landing right in front of Rekam
There was something strange about mechs suddenly falling from what he’d consider the sky. They’d done it in war, on the battlefield as holes battered their frames and their sparks died out. But this one, this one… was alive. Sure, the war might of been over, so he should of expected no dead bodies falling from the sky. But it still left him speechless. With his mouth opening, then shutting. He’d stand there, looking more like a robo-minnow. Floundering to find his words. What was he supposed to do? This wasn’t war, he wasn’t supposed to shoot others anymore! He wasn’t even allowed to shoot anyone anymore.
Prowl groans and slowly sits up. Rubbing his helm. He wasn’t expecting the branch to break. The last storm must have weakened the branch. He should have tested it before grabbing it.
Blinking he looks up at the mech that he just noticed. “Ah. I’m sorry. I hope i didn’t scare you….or hurt you.”
Rekam was still speechless, his vocoder frozen in his throat as he'd tried to put to words just the mix of confusion he was going through. "I- You- wait. Where? How?" The words would come gushing forth from the larger mech, helm tilting to the side as he gestured from the strange mech and then the ground. For some reason, he couldn't wrap his processor around anything. "What?"
Don't let Pathshot catch ya lookin' at her with wonky optics. She'll shoot ya in the aft.
REBLOG IF YOU DON'T MIND BLOODY ROLEPLAYS OR VIOLENT ROLEPLAYS
[[Why I thought it smart to try and draw a group picture of these buttnuggets is beyond me. Talk about exhausting. Fitting 8 bots in one space is insane.]]
Prowl was in the trees but then one of the branches snaps and he falls to the ground landing right in front of Rekam
There was something strange about mechs suddenly falling from what he’d consider the sky. They’d done it in war, on the battlefield as holes battered their frames and their sparks died out. But this one, this one… was alive. Sure, the war might of been over, so he should of expected no dead bodies falling from the sky. But it still left him speechless. With his mouth opening, then shutting. He’d stand there, looking more like a robo-minnow. Floundering to find his words. What was he supposed to do? This wasn’t war, he wasn’t supposed to shoot others anymore! He wasn’t even allowed to shoot anyone anymore.