#So cute !!

[superkursunaskr]

[theglassdragoncollective]

[ID: A four panel watercolor bird comic. A closeup shot shows a bluebird in the clutches of a hawk's single claw, the bluebird saying, "Let me go and I can make it worth your while" A closeup shot of the hawk's face follows, saying, "How?" An overall view of the much larger hawk with the bluebird in claw, with the bluebird's response, "I can dance" followed by the view of a free bluebird on the ground, shaking wing, as the hawk looks on. All credit to goblinfables. End ID]

fair trade

[faunandfloraas]

[But stay tuned for happy times]

[superkursunaskr]

[bigwhoppercheeseburger]

🩷🩷🩷🩷

So cute

To Whom It May Concern:

[keferon]

Sorry in advance for the word vomit but. I love the whole Jazz-and-Prowl figuring out the language barrier but also consider:

They don't.

Prowl's been captured by Quintessons and is currently thinking of ways to completely scrape his processor so they can't get any useful data, only to get rescued by a random mech. They fight their way out (the mech is extremely proficient in combat). At first he thinks it's a drone- it looks at him when he asks questions but doesn't answer (responds to noise, not language), it is sparkless (not alive) and it makes random but entirely incoherent noises and doesn't even ping (not able to communicate). Prowl has no idea what's going on but he's too injured to make it back to base alone and it's helping him? So. He chalks it up to some waylaid stealth military asset and tries to think of ways to both get it back to base whilst also making sure it's not some sort of Quintesson Trojan-horse [10%].

Meanwhile, Jazz was sent to blow up a Quintesson command camp by his organisation but instead he got thrown through a weird portal, and found a pilot all tied down and probably being tortured so naturally he busted him out but uh. He has no idea what the other is saying. He's talking in total tonal gibberish. Not that he's judging, he's heard some stuff about how far other piloting programs are willing to go to advance neural technology. And his face! He has one! A handsome one. Must be some advanced shit because he's got micro expressions and he's using them to frown as him. Anyways, Jazz's got bigger fish to fry. The sky's a different colour, there are two suns and atmo is reading terribly low levels of O2. Maybe he and this pilot got thrown into an alien planet? Cool- well, actually pretty bad but hey they're in this together.

Prowl knows by models that they're bound to run into another Quintesson patrol eventually, and based on the drones alertness to its surroundings, his previous observations to its capacity to fight, and how it doesn't stray to far from him, if patrol numbers are favourable [1-8 range] they can survive [70, .5]% the route back to base. But the drone is reckless and abandons him to the melee (how can a drone be reckless?) and Prowl gets injured worse. Energon drips from wounds, and the angle makes it challenging for him to patch it. But the drone creeps closer, folds to its (knees? Its joints are in an odd but effective configuration) and gently (gently?) begins to mimic (clumsily) Prowl's motions of patching his wounds. Here is where Prowl falters, because drones are not so careful. Drones do not do not look up multiple times at his faceplates, and become more delicate when they see you in pain. Drones don't hold out a servo and help you to your pedes when your done. Which begs the question, if he's not a drone, so what has been done to this mech?

Jazz on the other hand is freaking the fuck out. Naturally. Because uh, he started slicing Quints, expecting Frowny to do the same because his mech was still clearly operational, only for the idiot to completely disregarded normal combat standards which can be summarised as 'fight hard or die' and instead get chewed on by some big ass teeth.

Only to see the glowing purple dripping from his torn sides, only to see that he's bleeding.

Machines don't bleed.

So Jazz figures out Frowny is an alien first. He starts pointing at himself and saying his name, insistently, until Frowny repeats it. He points at Frowny, and records and replays whatever sound bite Frowny makes until Frowny's also nodding in confirmation. He still calls him Frowny, because even though he has his name? Probably? He has no idea what it means and can't actually pronounce it (no idea how to get a mouth to move that way) but hey! Progress! He does this again and again with small things (rock, hand, cyber?animals, music (Frowny's confused at that one it's pretty adorable) ect.

Prowl has no idea what to make of this strange mech. Is he a failed experiment? A runaway from Cybertron following the Functionalists rise or power? Thennn Prowl finds out one fateful night that the mech is actually an alien organic (in a fit of misunderstandings, and squeezes him pretty hard for it ouch and feels SO guilty about it later) and suddenly the language/culture barrier makes way more sense.

Prowl's injuries degrade (a line splits). He has no way to communicate this except for the energon dripping out of his chassis. The organic is clearly worried (how did he think he was ever sparkless), and Prowl can't reach the injury himself. So he guides the mech's servos past armour and wiring, down to protoform (near his sparkchamber) to the split line. Gestures and hopes the mech can figure out what to do from his miming[#^%]. That'll he'll be careful, and won't hurt him [5%, 87%, #*%, *########%].

Frowny is later picking shrapnel stuck in his forearm that's too small for him to remove, so Jazz gets out of his mech to help with his small human hands. Jazz has no way to communicate to Frowny that if he moves, he'll sheer Jazz's limbs clean off, but he goes in anyway, because Frowny's hurt, and speckled in blood. Because he's clearly struggling and hurt and tired. Because Jazz has to trust that he won't.

Frowny's injures eventually make him collapse, and Jazz carries him the rest of the way. Jazz has no idea how they'll be received (especially considering how Frowny reacted when he found out Jazz was organic). Jazz knows he might be dissected. Knows he might be pulled apart (again) but.

He remembers all the little moments they had on their journey (Frowny shielding him from falling rubble when Jazz was out of his mech once, them getting to gesticulating arguments, Frowny's reaction to his music, how he fell asleep on Jazz once and it was fricken adorable).

It doesn't matter that Jazz can't say (barely understands) his actual name. That Frowny probably doesn't understand his. It doesn't matter that they talk in halting miming, in broken sound clips and touches and half-glares.

He's already gone out on all his limbs, might as well put his head on the chopping block. And if it causes him to lose the damn thing, well.

He's a pilot. Dying horribly is practically his job description.

OOOUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH DYING HORRIBLY IS PRACTICALLY HIS JOB DESCRIPTION,,,,,,,,,,,

[dangerouslyinlust]

I love verbal girls their sweet voices make me melt.

[superkursunaskr]

[cynicalclassicist]

I love to find out new fantasy creatures!

The name of this creature is YOTAcat or POTOOcat.

This creature is a combination of Yotaka (potoo) and cat.

His true identity is one of an alien reconnaissance unit that plans to invade the earth.

His body can change its shape at will by copying other creatures and objects.

When he came to Earth, he first tried to copy the appearance of the planet's main life form.

However, the first thing he saw there was a cat. He decided that the creature was the main life form and tried to copy the cat's form.

However, by some accident, he also copied the information of Potoo, and his body became a chimera of cat and Potoo.

What was even more unexpected for these aliens was that once they copied the earth creatures, the original spirit invaded their psyche.

His spirit was about to be taken over by cats and POTOO!

The human who found the strange creature brought it home out of curiosity. Not knowing it was a vicious alien.......

[screamingviridianforest]

Short post as I wait at the hospital

Hybrid au, fosters, male reader bc i want to

~

The boys were retired now but still looking for something meaningful to do with their life. Being hybrids, work wasn't exactly the most open for them, even small jobs.

So why not foster hybrid kids? Kids who they would make sure they didn't suffer in childhood like they had. Someone innocent they could help blossom in a good person.

Kyle was the one who proposed the idea. Being a big cat hybrid, he longed for kittens to look after. It just so happened that Ghost, a wolf hybrid, wanted pups to look after.

After the discussion, it sprung the want for cubs in Price and Johnny, a bear hybrid and hyena hybrid, respectively. They all wanted to help a young hybrid, someone they could dote on and help prosper.

So, they set to work setting up their house to foster standards and filling out a seemingly endless amount of paperwork. It was a long process, but they were nothing but patient. They all wanted this and on hard nights they'd use it as motivation to keep going. A chance to do good, one that wouldn't hurt anyone.

And you, who were their first placement. A young sheep hybrid. Horns that curled around your head and fleece that was matted down. You were so shy, especially around predator hybrids.

The first night was rough. You hid in your room the entire time. It was enough to send their instincts spiraling.

"Did we already scare the lad?" Johnny whinned, curling around Simon. Johnny's small tail tucked away.

"No, no," John soothed from his spot on the couch, a soft look in his eyes. "He's in a new place with new people, and we're predators in his brain."

Kyle made a chuffing sound, "we'll need to earn his trust, is all. That starts by making sure he knows he's safe here and we don't want to hurt him."

Simon hummed in agreement, hand running up and down Johnny's back. He didn't have anything to add, but he couldn't deny seeing the fear in your eyes set something off in him. It reminded him of his childhood and he was determined to give you better.

"I'll go tuck him in," John finally says, standing up. "Tomorrow we'll talk to him and help get him settled more."

But when John walks into your room, he finds you already curled up in the corner of your bed. Your small hands clutching the small plush you carried everywhere with you. He sighed softly at the sight. It causes your head to shoot up and lock eyes with him.

"Easy now, little lamb," Price chuffs softly, a reassuring sound, even to you. "Just here to tuck you in, alright?"

He waits for your small nod before moving closer. He picks up a blanket, a big beige one. It was soft and very new. John is so careful as he tucks it around your slim shoulders. You were so small.

"Tomorrow, we'll talk more, get you settled in more, hm?" John says kindly, smoothing the blanket out. You nod again. "Maybe go out and get you some new stuff? Or we'll stay in for a movie day."

You just watch him with your wide eyes. Your hair was matted down and John so desperately wanted to brush it out but he didn't dare push any boundaries. He'd make sure you'd get all cleaned up, tomorrow.

For the rest of the boys, tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

They just had to be patient.

They could do that, right?

[yonglixx]

[whitepolaris]

EMPRESS ♡

[babyanimalgifs]

Turtles helping each other in times of need

(Source)

[lilcottoncandyheart]

Bestie goals 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

[efsungeradam]

therapy

[superkursunaskr]