#im so happy tf

[bloominglegumes]

to think that we could stay the same,,,

(my megop playlist.pls pls talk about songs with me)

[isjasz]

Happy late Valentines ft. an alternative version to the end of Total Eclipse @zipzapzooooooom wrote during comic production <3

[sundreary]

at this point you're pretty much out of my mind / but when i close my eyes i think about you every time

(kevin abstract - baby boy)

[redwitchrune]

husbands and their 11 children. they are so cozy sleepy <3

close-ups since i had to shirnk the main image a little

[battiegutz]

must feed the swinbee enjoyers.... how tf do ppl draw kissing😵‍💫

[keferon]

Blurr doesn't believe in ghosts.

-------------------------------

Blurr's been in accidents before, so he's not entirely unfamiliar with the routine of waking up in hospital.  What's new this time is the flood of relief that he wakes up – because he was certain he was dead, there was no way he wasn't dying when his eyes had closed. 

Still, Blurr knows this routine.  The first few days are filled with an overwhelming amount of cards and flower bouquets – well-wishes and sympathies expressed by everyone ranging from fans to sponsors to business partners and company executives.  Few actually visit, fewer still stay with him very long. 

Swindle is one of the only ones who returns more than once.  He's done more than Blurr ever thought he would to uphold his word from their early meetings – that anything Blurr needed, anything at all he could call on Swindle and Swindle would provide.  Because as Blurr understands it, Swindle is the reason that Blurr's here at all.  Swindle's the one covering Blurr's medical treatments and handling most of the publicity for Blurr's condition.

That in and of itself doesn't entirely surprise Blurr.  Afterall, their business relationship is valuable to Swindle.  Blurr's recovery is valuable to Swindle.  What does surprise him is that Swindle stays and talks with Blurr.  Comes back to keep talking.  Answers Blurr's calls when he's too bored or needs a distraction from the pain and the numbness of it all.  And he doesn't have to.  It's enough to almost have Blurr believing that Swindle values him not just for his face or his fame, but for what he can do as a person.

But Blurr can also see with each passing visit the strain that events have put on Swindle.  He can see how the dark circles grow under the other man's eyes.  Notices how visits are growing further apart, happening later in the day.  Phone calls and conversations are shorter. 

Blurr can see there are things Swindle isn't telling him.  Some days, he even gets Swindle to outright admit to that fact.  But Swindle always avoids the issue.  Ensures Blurr that all he needs to focus on is his own recovery – that Swindle will handle everything else. 

And then, the day comes when Swindle finally lets Blurr in on the truth.  Blurr gets the sense that Swindle would rather have never told him what the game is that they're playing – that he only did so because he felt he had no other choice.  Blurr isn't sure how he feels.  Some days -- a lot of days, if he's being completely honest -- he finds himself wishing he never knew, wishing things could go back to the way they'd been.  The one thing he knows for certain is that Swindle's visits are no longer just those of a friend stopping by (if they ever truly were).  They are back to business.

Other things Blurr knows for certain is that recovery is long and agonizingly slow and terribly lonely at times.  There are the visits from doctors and nurses.  Lab technicians and physical therapists.  But it's not the same as having visitors – as having friends or family to look in on him.  And while Blurr sees crowds of people when he's outside the hospital with Swindle, everything Blurr does – every interaction -- is an act.  An act that only serves to exhaust him further.

There are days where Blurr struggles to tell whether any real progress is being made – with his recovery or with Swindle's efforts in mecha.  There are days where he's certain there is no progress, will never be any progress, and it's hard to remember why he keeps trying, keeps fighting. 

And then, the ghost visits him in the middle of the night. 

The next morning when he wakes he doesn't believe it was real.  He's on strong drugs to keep the pain at bay – more so on the days when the strain of recovery and public appearances take too heavy of a toll. 

Blurr doesn't believe in ghosts.  Drug-induced hallucinations, yes.  Figments of a dying mind, yes.  Figures that appear haunting his dreams, yes.  Because Swindle had told Blur finally, in one of his rare unguarded moments, that not everyone made it out of mecha.  That one of the mechanics – the one who according to Swindle had been enlisted by Blurr to navigate the collapsing building – was missing.  Missing so long at this point he was presumed dead.  And Blurr has hazy recollections of seeing a ghost in his dying moments.

Even though the mechanics official status is uncertain, Blurr knows not everyone made it out of that building.  And Blurr knows the ghost is not real.  Knows that if it is anything, it is his own guilt come back to haunt him.  Guilt that he wasn't fast enough.  Guilt that he had needed to pull anyone else into risking their life alongside his own.  Guilt that he survived.

Only, the little Blurr can recall of the ghost's visit feels different than the dreams where Blurr's dying.  It feels more – real.  Blurr doesn't know how that can make sense when it comes to ghosts.  But he supposes if aliens are real, then maybe it's not such a stretch.  And come to think of it, the ghost had claimed to be an alien.

It takes a little while from when Blurr first confronts the ghost to pick up on the signs.  It's little things.  The light flickering away over only part of a lightbulb.  A shadow on the ceiling with nothing to cast it.  The curtains that continue to move on their own so as to shield his eyes from too much glare from the sun.  The way that Blurr can see sometimes see Swindle's collar move when they are out and he leans close for extra support or to whisper into Swindle's ear – even when there's no breeze or they are indoors. 

But it's the night that the call alarm next to Blurr's bed goes off on its own, while he's still trapped in the throes of a nightmare, thrashing, in pain, that convinces Blurr.  Maybe whatever he's noticing isn't entirely made up by his mind.

He starts to take comfort whenever he sees the lights flicker or a shadow where it doesn't belong or an unexplainable twitch of Swindle's collar.  The room feels just a little bit brighter, the burden that he's carrying just a little bit lighter for believing that maybe he isn't so alone.

Ghost.  Alien.  Guardian.  Whatever the presence may be, it strengthens Blurr knowing it's there, watching over him.

And when Blurr can tell he's being cornered into a medical conversation he isn't certain he wants to have, the mecha employee appearing from seemingly nowhere to give him a way out seems too good to be true.  Blurr wouldn't be believing it if he wasn't watching the scene unfold before his eyes, wasn't playing a role in it himself – nodding along with the frantic employee even as the technical details of what emergency he's agreeing with slip way over his head.

It's only when the doctor is gone that Blurr lets down his guard, dares to reach out.  Because the voice talking to him feels familiar. 

Blurr pulls back the brim of the cap. 

He feels his heart skip a beat in his chest and for a rare moment, Blurr finds himself completely at a loss for what to say, what to do.  Because he knows the face looking back at him.  It's the face of a ghost.  The face of his ghost.

Neither of us is real.

The words drift across Blurr's mind.  Words that he knows with sudden clarity were the last he had ever expected to hear.  Only, here they both are.

The ghost smiles cautiously up at him, shifting slightly from foot to foot as Blurr stares.  And in the warmth of that smile Blurr feels blinded. 

The small part of Blurr's mind that isn't reeling trying to process what all he's just uncovered wonders if this isn't the closest he'll get to feeling what other people seem to experience when Blurr himself walks into a room.  Because Blurr is frozen, even as his thoughts race in a hundred different directions at once and his heart pounds in his chest.  Because the ghost is real.  And just that knowledge makes Blurr feel slightly less alone in all this.

  Because... the ghost is real.  And just that knowledge ...makes Blurr feel slightly less alone uh??????

[br1ghtestlight]

awww :3 cute payjay

[verstappen-cult]

THAT’S MY FAMILY RIGHT THERE!!! 🥹

[s0fter-sin]

thinking about price putting his hat on the boys' heads

cw war guilt, self harm through working out

it's only happened once or twice with each of them, only when they're on the brink and safe enough for price to let himself soften

🧼

the first time it happens to soap is on his first demo mission as a corporal; the first time he's been in charge of the planning the rig and the first time he’s close enough to see the human fallout of the explosion he worked so hard on and realises how often it means a slow and messy death

he knows they're the enemy; knows if it wasn't them, it would be him, then the long line of civilians at his back that he stands so strong to protect. he knows that

but that doesn't stop the screaming echoing in his mind, doesn't rid the memory of burning bodies trying to crawl away from their signed deaths

signed by him

he's sitting on the concrete outside the barracks, trying to get the cold to leech the remnants of the fire from his blood that his ice cold shower couldn’t douse. he jumps at the feel of a leg pressing against his side and looks up at price as he leans back against the wall, his hands cupped around a cigarette

soap flinches at the sparks coming from his lighter and looks away, his knees creeping up tighter to his chest

"it gets easier," price rumbles above him, exhaling a long breath and the comforting acrid scent of smoke spills around him

he shifts uneasily and pretends it's not to get closer. "i don't think that makes me feel better, sir,” he admits

"never said it would," he shrugs with the ease of a man who's had this same conversation a hundred times and will have it a hundred more. "just that it does."

soap sniffles then growls at himself, harshly scraping his wrist over his face

a light weight drops on his head and he stifles a gasp as price's hat falls low over his reddened eyes, hiding him from the prying gaze of the world

"you'll be alright, son," he promises and soap's lips tremble. he presses them tight together and follows price's hand as he guides his face into the side of his knee, cupping his jaw and holding him close as he shakes apart

"you'll be alright."

🧢

gaz doesn't crave softness when he messes up; doesn't want forgiveness or assurance. he wants blood; blood shed for blood that shouldn't have been lost

the punching bag is shining by the time price walks into the gym; shining yet also muted where his blood’s had the time to dry and stain, his knuckles torn to shreds

gaz' fist almost slips off the bag and he clicks his tongue. "you gonna keep makin' that a biohazard or do you want to do something actually worthwhile?"

his lip kicks up in a snarl and he sends a glare over his shoulder. "what?"

"think medical's got enough bodies, don't you?" he asks and a dangerous stillness fills the air

gaz shoves off the bag, knuckles dripping onto the mats. "you wanna add one more?"

price quirks an eyebrow, so nonchalant that it just makes him angrier; blood boiling in his veins. "come on, then."

he stalks onto the sparring mats and price barely blinks before he's attacking; throwing wild punches, eyes a hundred miles away

back in beirut

where they had to pull their team out in pieces because gaz missed the suicide bomber launching himself out of the rubble

price dodges each desperate strike, loose and sloppy and nowhere near gaz’ usual level of skill. he doesn't hit back once and gaz' faces twists with each miss, sweat flying off him as his grunts turn into growls, turn into screams as he throws himself at him

price ducks and snatches his hat off his head, slapping it into gaz' face to blind him and drives him back into the mats

he gags as his lungs seize, his air is forced out of him; leaving him to heave harsh breaths that stick in the fabric of the hat. the humid dark closes in on him, forcing him to focus on his breaths so he doesn't throw up or pass out; forcing him to stay within his body instead of drowning in another country

price's hand is heavy behind it, keeping it trapped over his face. "are you done?" he asks, not even breathless

gaz pants, his whole body tingling, and his fingers dig harder into his face

"are you done?" he insists

he swallows dry, suddenly aware of the exhaustion sapping at his limbs, the pain in his hands, the tightness in his throat. "i'm done," he rasps

price relaxes but doesn't remove his hand or push him to get up. they sit on the mats for a while, price's weight and the dark anchoring gaz to the here and now

💀

contrary to popular belief, ghost doesn't hate family days

he doesn't glare at the droves of civilians entering the base, doesn't stand as a spectre of death and grief over the rookies running into the arms of their families on one of the most important days of their career. he doesn't begrudge the safety and love they feel from coddling mothers and embarrassingly proud fathers, from laughing siblings and sticky-fingered children

he remembers his own graduation too well to want to take it from them

he stands in his dress blues through the speeches, his neck gaiter hiding less than he'd like but at ease with the compromise he and price reached. he looks over the tearful family members as name after name gets called, takes careful note of the ones who are clapped for less than the others, and lines up with the other officers as they wait for the tap out

one by one, the graduates get released by their loved ones; no longer standing attention as a recruit but embracing them as a private

just as he's done every year, ghost checked their records to ensure they all had someone coming for them; he's never let a single one stand in the field waiting for someone who will never come. it's rare that his diligence is necessary but he's never let them feel any shame for it; telling them to keep their heads high as he pats their shoulder

he's not needed today and he watches as they're slowly released and disperse, all with a reminder of why they've worked so hard and who they’re here to protect

it's quiet on base that night; soldiers take any chance to celebrate and a graduation is nothing to sneeze at. ghost stands out in the field, out in the gentle quiet. his hands sit folded behind him as he looks up at the stars and he doesn't flinch as a voice sounds behind him

"been a long time since you could be called a rookie," price says, falling into place beside him

ghost hums. "longer for you, i’d say."

he huffs a laugh. "cheeky shite," he snickers. "that hasn't changed; bloody twig of a thing too big for his boots, angry at the world and ready to prove it wrong."

"plenty changed to make up for it," he huffs, his breath disturbing his gaiter

"lot more's stayed the same," price counters and steps in front of him, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he squares his shoulders

"lieutenant riley," he starts and ghost almost rolls his eyes. "you've shown exemplary courage in the face of adversity, gone above and beyond the call of duty and expressed great leadership in your dedication to your team and the men in your charge. congratulations, soldier; you've earned it."

ghost swallows thickly and refuses to admit to the shine threatening his eyes. "thank you, sir."

price smiles and plucks his hat off his head, placing it on his and pats his head; brushing his thumb over his temple

"come on, son; you've waited long enough."

[erinstired]

Finally finished my TF One humanformers designs ☺️🫶

[yonker-tonker]

Someone has a sweetheart

[jimimn]

jungkook - 'seven' short film

[raspberrighost]

Sorry to bother you but I LOVE LOVE LOVE your mer sunny!!!! I need to know if you're gonna do a mer sideswipe!???! Absolutely okay if not but I love your design so much and think sideswipe would look so pretty.

I did end up doodling a sides! Which is great bc Twin Tails has updated today >:)) So I'm throwing this here and promptly skittering to read it.

[karleksmumskladdkaka]

Diabolik Lovers More Character Song SKiT Dolce Character Message Cards

EDIT: The cards have all been translated by the wonderful @otomehonyaku ♡〜٩( ˃▿˂ )۶〜♡. You can find the translations for the M bros here, and the S bros here!

Do NOT repost the scans anywhere!

[bromomentum]

Went to see the Minecraft movie and i noticed they still had the bucket. I couldn't say no.

[tf-rechargeandrebound]

Ok I redesigned them for the last goddamn time

TFR Autobot designs ^^ (I'm sorry if the colours look fucked up idk how to fix exporting stuff)

Character profiles beneath the cut

Optimus Prime

Allegiance: Autobot

Alt mode: Freightliner semi truck

Occupation: Autobot commander, current Prime

Likes: Cybertronian history, reading, Earth’s general vibe, long drives, peace and quiet

Dislikes: His position as Prime (he’s not very vocal about it though), snakes, icy roads, large social functions, taking breaks from all that gosh darn paperwork

Once a humble dock worker named Orion Pax, Optimus Prime is the leader of the Autobot Resistance, and is being counted on to save his home from the Decepticons. Any Autobot would describe him as wise, kind, stoic, somewhat stern, and a great leader who can sometimes get grumpy when stressed or tired. His most trusted officers and family, such as Elita-1, know that he’s also rather socially awkward and a bit of a bookworm. He cares deeply for every single Autobot under his command, and has grown to care for Earth as well. He generally dislikes needlessly reckless behaviour from those around him, as he can’t bear to see even more lives lost to the war. He often doubts himself, his role as Prime, and his actions, even if they were right. At the end of the day, Optimus wants nothing more than to live a quiet life with his loved ones.

Elita-1

Allegiance: Autobot

Alt mode: F-16 Fighting Falcon fighter jet

Occupation: Autobot commander

Likes: Astronomy, meteorology, flying, Earth rain, stargazing

Dislikes: Megatron (everyone hates him but she hates him on a very personal level), confined spaces, caves, snowstorms

Before she was Elita-1, she was Ariel, and before she was Ariel, she was a miner designated AR-1. After escaping the mines when she was young, she was taken in by an old dock boss named Kup who offered her a job at the docks, where she met a young mech named Orion Pax. Elita and Optimus Prime are both co-commanders and conjunx enduras. She’s much more of a social jokester than he is, and is extremely popular amongst the troops. She’s cunning, loyal, intelligent, and a fierce warrior who always stands up for what’s right and puts others before herself, all while being someone who’s willing to lend an ear to anyone who needs to vent. She’s truly the definition of an Autobot.

Bumblebee

Allegiance: Autobot

Alt mode: 2017 Volkswagen Beetle

Occupation: Special Operations scout

Likes: Earth pop culture (especially video games and 80s music), open roads, making friends, adventure, summertime, stories about pre-war Cybertron, carwashes

Dislikes: Being teased for his height, sharp objects, confinement, failing a task or mission

Bumblebee is one of the youngest and most promising soldiers in the Resistance. Raised by Optimus and Elita, he chose to join the fight against the Decepticons once he came of age, a decision that they respect but don’t fully approve of. His oddly small stature makes him ideal for espionage-based missions, and he’s nearly mastered using his size to his advantage while in direct combat. Bee is an extremely upbeat and friendly bot, and while he may be small, he has a big spark that cares deeply for everyone around him. He often recklessly puts himself in danger to protect others, which usually gets him injured, but the injuries are worth it, in his opinion. Overall, Bumblebee is a dependable, determined, and brave Autobot, just like his caretakers.

Wheeljack

Allegiance: Autobot

Alt mode: 2015 Chevrolet Silverado

Occupation: Autobot Science Division, Chief Engineer

Likes: Science, inventing, researching, stunt driving (he doesn’t do it much anymore, though), lab work, reading scientific reports, explaining things he’s invented or fixed, explosions

Dislikes: Listening to his body when it tells him to take breaks, not knowing about a subject, distractions from his work, long fights

Wheeljack is one of Cybertron’s greatest scientific minds. He’s a brilliant, eccentric engineer and a good-natured bot who others like to be around. He can easily become engrossed in his work, and has little regard for his own personal safety, as he frequently patches himself up and regularly visits the medbay after his daily experiment blows up in his face. He often looks out for the youngsters around him, and ends up fostering a strong paternal affection towards his human ally Sadie. While he’s not on the front lines as much as he once was, he’s still quite a capable fighter and a force to be reckoned with.

Ratchet

Allegiance: Autobot

Alt mode: MXP-170 ambulance

Occupation: Chief Medical Officer

Likes: Peace and quiet, napping, organizing his equipment, Engex, bossing people around

Dislikes: People or bots who annoy him, his equipment being disorganized, comments about his age (unless he makes them), hotshot young bots (except for Bee), busy cities

One of Iacon’s best and most dedicated medical professionals, Ratchet is an elderly, cranky old medic who’s constantly trying to keep his fellow Autobots out of trouble. He’s no stranger to wartime, as he's a veteran of the Quintesson War that took place before the majority of his comrades were even protoformed. Having raised both Optimus and Wheeljack, they’re two of the only bots who know that, despite his prickly exterior, Ratchet is actually quite a softie deep down. Still, Ratchet has a nasty temper, and he often doesn’t work well with others, preferring to do things “his way”. When the situation is dire enough, however, he’ll accept help from those around him. Occasionally, he’ll be relaxed enough to lightheartedly joke around with those he’s closest with, but overall he’s a tough, no-nonsense, hard working old bot.