#refuled

[khaire-traveler]

Don't sacrifice your own well-being for someone else's. At the end of the day, if you don't have yourself, you have nothing. You can't keep filling the cups of others if your own cup is bone dry.

Edit: Cooler way of saying this that I thought of is "Don't sacrifice yourself at someone else's altar."

[aita-alternia]

AITA for culling a mutant wiggler?

I (10, F, jade) was working in the caverns in a supervisory role when I noticed one of my co-workers secreting away a wiggler. This is not as uncommon in my cavern as it admittedly should be; the caverns are much bigger than most people think they are and there are many trolls working in mine in particular, and it is not openly talked about, especially around me as I am in a position of authority. But I am aware that a handful of my compatriots will hide one or two wigglers they find that they believe will be culled for some reason or another, such as a benign mutation or simply being small for their age.

Usually these situations will resolve themselves without my needing to interfere, as these jades will either manage to raise the wigglers healthy enough that they can slip them into the trials or find them a lusus elsewhere, or they will simply expire naturally. There have been cases where the jades have been caught, and they have invariably ended with the wigglers culled every time, as well as the jades responsible, and even some who were not. When I was a young adolescent just starting in the caverns, a group of mutant wigglers were found by the drones and culled. No individual jade would come forward and take responsibility for this crime, so about a two dozen of the trolls in the vicinity were culled indiscriminately and senselessly to make sure the culprit was taken care of.

It was a massacre that could have been avoided if they had just done as they were supposed to do. I do not tend to go out of my way to apprehend the trolls who partake in this practice, because I have no desire to see so many of my fellow jades culled ever again. If I do not see it, then there is no need for me to intervene. However, this jade is young and idealistic, and she was sloppy. I witnessed her removing the mutant wiggler from the caverns, and if I saw her, then the chances that a drone or another jade saw as well were very high. There was only one course of action, and that was to put a stop to her not-conspicuous-enough getaway quietly and discretely, and cull the wiggler on the spot. The young jade did not take this well, as she burst into tears and started screaming. I was forced to knock her unconscious in order to prevent further detection and disruption. I handed her over to one of her workmates and advised them to give her a talking to and place her on the right path.

I told my matesprit (10, F, jade) about this event, and while she says she understands why I did what I did, I believe she may be looking at me differently. AITA?

[lemongogo]

[teddyreblogslotf]

.

[spicyjetfuel]

air refueling is cool i guess <3

[abbygail-ph]

𝒸𝑜𝒻𝒻𝑒𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈

(𝒾 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝓃𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓀𝒶𝓈𝒾 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝒻𝑜𝓇𝓉 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓊, 𝓈𝑜 𝒾 𝒻𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝑔𝑒𝓈 & 𝒾𝓂 𝑔𝓁𝒶𝒹 𝒾 𝒹𝒾𝒹)

“𝗙𝗹𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽𝗳𝘂𝗹, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄? 𝗪𝗲𝗹𝗹, 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗰𝗿𝘆𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗰 ����𝗵𝗿𝗮𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂: ‘𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗲’ 𝗼𝗿 ‘𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝗳 𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗲’.”

remember the old story of the artist and the coffee? a painter was drinking coffee in a french café, one of his companions became enraged and threw his coffee against the wall, creating an ugly stain. Taking his paints, the artist created a beautiful mural that incorporated stains into the scene

these things can work together for good in his plans

[princemick]

a 9.5 sec pit feels so long

[sporesgalaxy]

IF YOUR MODERN USAMERICAN POLITICS HAS:

a new variety of job market that takes advantage of lack of regulation to give workers less money and less benefits than ever before & the government will not refulate it because if they stop placing their absolute trust in the supposed ability of The Market, they will have nothing left

president who did something illegal and got caught and then got elected anyways

large reactionary conservative subculture consisting mostly of white middle class which gained traction because of a relatively new form of niche entertainment

the state enacting violence against civil rights protesters

u.s. government aiding and abetting tyrannical subjugation and destruction of what should be a sovereign nation by a u.s. allied colonizing power because the u.s. thinks that allowing said undemocraric forceful takeover and the massacres involved are the only way to prevent a political enemy of theirs from having the opportunity to take some kind of tactical advantage & cares more about that than democracy or ethics

signaling and reinforcing anticommunism (& antisocialism) being prioritized over policy effectiveness or meaningful change

THAT'S NOT A NEW LOW, THAT'S

[pineapple-downside-up-cake]

TF!141 but they don't go to the bar together; not on purpose.

They're wound too tight, have seen the bad end of one too many bar brawls, to let loose with booze in public.

Instead there's one of those cozy coffee shop/bar type places not too far from HQ. It's not open all night, but it's open as long as you need it.

Mismatched furniture, plush but ugly, the lighting low and disarming - run by the vet behind the counter. She only plays soft acoustic tracks; nothing with a hard bass.

The team usually goes their separate ways, but they tend to end up there, trickling in throughout the night when the days are rough.

When the nightmares keep them from sleeping, or being alone with their thoughts is too much.

There aren't rules, necessarily - but it's unspoken that this is not fucking therapy. They don't talk about why they're not in bed, asleep. Everyone's got reasons.

Instead, they abuse the furniture, shut down in a place where they won't be alone.

Soap tangled sideways in his chair with a coffee - don't look at him, he wasn't getting shut-eye anyway - listening to podcasts in one ear, sketching idly on a napkin.

There's a collection scattered across the wall, his and others', and the owner let's 'em hang.

Gaz with a blanket on his lap, feet on an ottoman and an earl grey nearby that he never drinks, but orders anyway. He spends most of the time on the phone, but he holds the cup in his hands until every last vestige of warmth seeps into his skin.

The barista will refull his mug until the teabag brews clear. No questions asked.

Price sits in an armchair with the lone vintage telly on mute, watching football reruns and fishing championships. He drinks whiskey and a damned good thing someone does. They mostly stock it for him.

He thinks it helps him sleep, and some nights it does - sometimes he falls asleep in the stupid purple chair and wakes up with a blanket over him at closing.

Ghost sits on the floor. He's most comfortable there, with his back against the sofa, and the carpet is plush enough for someone like him. He drinks herbal tea, usually mint, let's the smell clear his head while he reads.

He reads the same two books on the loaner shelf until the spines break and pages start to fall from the binding, and one day they're replaced with the full series.

He realizes he actually likes reading, doesn't have to pretend just for something to do with his hands, and starts bringing in his cast-offs to swapout and take home.

They don't always make it there at the same time, or even on the same nights. Sometimes weeks go by without any of them showing up, when things are good or when they've been gone...

But they know they are always welcome to seek solace at The Treehouse.

[usafphantom2]

A-10 Thunderbolt IIs, A Stampede of HOGS!

@refuled via X

[vickozone]

Question. ☝️

What does “be c🍺reful“ mean

[yayasvalveplay]

Oppy breeding anon back for some more Hive Queen Optimus.

You know how ants basically have anti-body saliva they lick onto eggs and themselves to keep them clean? Insecticons have that and they adore grooming their queen to keep him clean. They give extra focus to his belly too, cuz they can sense the tiny lil hive members forming in those eggs. They also clean the already laid eggs of course, and they probably do the ant thing where they sort the eggs by age/development.

Some Insecticons also just like to lay next to their sleeping queen and purr, which causes Optimus’s engines to also purr from the encouragement which makes all the eggs very happy that mama is happy. There’s even some movement from the baby growing in Oppy’s forge when they purr like that, so they must like it too!

Oh yea, the Insecticons make sure the other members of the Autobot team get proper rest and Energon, even if some of them have to be inside the base to make sure they’re doing so.

Yes. The queen is already doing too much. Let them help by keeping you clean. Especially in the lower areas.

They would sort their eggs by gender and how long they've been out for.

And the purring. They love to purr currled around there queen. They love hearing him purr back, especially when he sleeping because it means they are doing a good job keeping Optimus happy.

The insecticins will stalk everyone spring them into refuling and and resting when nessesary. They even do it to the kids. Bringing them into the nest are to sleepby Ops sides.

Jack: but I need to do homework.

Insecficon: your human homework can wait. You are tired. And tired sparklings require a lot of rest. So sleep little one. Let the hive take care of you."

I can see them sleeping near Ops helm, maybe one(miko) curled near his neck.

[syznco]

refull energy

she's like:

[tfp-orion-and-megatronus]

ORION, an onion is a type of food we have on our planet, it helps our bodies refule although its no recommended to eat it on its own for its very strong taste, we simply mix it up in other dishes most of the time

Oh, thank you!

[nebula-award]

♆☸ Astrolabe: Chapter 1

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

After a Groundbridge incident during a recon mission on the Nemesis, Arcee, Bulkhead, and Smokescreen find themselves on an uncharted island. No comms, energon, a way off, or memory of how they got there. As the base searches for the squadron, trust provides a catalyst to the stranded Autobots as they move forward and backward in time.

AO3 Link | CH2

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Day One

The piercing ring never left his ears, nor did the sound of wires zapping rhythmically, as he came back online. What followed was a metallic shriek from shifting his legs. Scrap, that tox-en pain never left. Groaning, his optics fluttered open meeting bright rays that dodged the leafy overhang in order to blind his optics. 

Primus, his helm ached. Dragging a heavy hand to his head, Bulkhead grumbled deep enough to shake the dirt beneath him. Dirt…? At the thought, he shot himself up straight and opened his optics wide which sent a heavy weight of pain to his helm. He hissed, burying his head in his dirt covered servos. 

“Sccccrap.” He drew out. 

Slowly, he reopened his optics greeting the green world around him. Canopies of trees shield his vision for miles, and the ground below was dark as chocolate and soft in his digits. He glances up, minding the sun’s rays, to find a giant, Cybertronian-sized hole in the canopy. No, too big for just him… 

“Bulk…head? Oh, sc-c-crap.” 

Bulkhead jumps at the breaking voice behind him. He turns around with great worry as he realizes the source of the frying wires zapping in his audio processor. Paint job hidden by black dirt, Smokescreen lies on his side in a fetal position. His servos clutch his abdomen, doing a terrible job holding the leaking blue energon staining his white finish. Some of the cables on his right leg are disconnected and produce sparks. Despite his attempt to endure the wound, he’s moaning heavily at the sheer pain, vocal processor frying his vocals. 

The wrecker narrowed his optics and lurched over to the wounded. “Scrap, Kid! What happened?” 

The rookie eases himself to the best of his abilities. “Your g-guess is… as go-od as mine…” 

“You mean you remember nothing?”

Smokescreen shakes his head the best he can. He hisses as his leg cables spark. “’ink I’m startin’ to under-erstand what you and Ar-cee meant… by ‘long haul…’” 

Bulkhead chuckles despite the circumstance, searching in his chest cavity for any medical supplies. “You learned just as I did: Arcee is always right…”  

Bulkhead’s optics flashed at her name. An image of the blue two-wheeler in dark lighting-- face-plate illuminated by a red glow-- passes his memory files. 

“Arcee!” He shouts. 

“Ouch!” Smokescreen groans. “Ca-re-reful! My audio processor just… got fully on-line.” 

“Sorry, Kid.” Bulkhead grimaces as he finds a few medical supplies. (How he wished he listened to Ratchet’s advice to resupply…) He leans down, doing his best to patch up Smokescreen’s stomach, but servos meant for construction can only do so much. “I just remembered Arcee was with us before, well, all of this happened. She must be nearby.” 

“Nearby… grh, wh-ere exactly?” 

“I’m… not sure.” Bulkhead frowns. “But, I’m going to try and radio her. Stay still for now, Smoke.” 

“D-don’t have… to-to tell me tw-ice.”

“Arcee?” 

… 

“Arcee?” 

… 

“Arcee, do you copy?” 

Frag… She groans as her comm link scratches in her ears. The voice matches the pounding in her head: persistent and loud. “Arcee? Arcee, please come in.” The voice pleads, and she pities whoever is on the line as much as she pities her headache. 

She refuses to open her optics, bringing her hand weakly to her comm link button. “Present…” 

“Oh, thank Primus, Cee.” 

Her eyebrows furrow at the nickname, quickly opening her optics. “Bulkhead?” Her thoughts fill with concern as she glances around her foreign surroundings: nothing but a fog of green. Her breath hitches, realizing he is nowhere in sight. “Primus, what happened?” She asks-- mostly to herself-- as her servos run against the dirt floor. 

“I’m… not entirely sure. That fall Smokescreen and I completely wiped our memory banks.” 

She sighs, raising herself up onto her pedes. “As long as you two are safe.” 

“...” 

“...Bulk?” 

“Not… Not necessarily.” 

She frowns, “Meaning?” 

“The kid’s bleeding energon badly and his leg is broken. Whatever happened to us certainly wasn’t a normal energon skirmish.” 

Her optics darted to the floor, shaking. She’s quiet for a moment before asking with quivering breath. “Is- is he stable?” 

“To the best of my abilities, but we’re stranded ducks out here, Cee. If we’re going to locate each other, you’re gonna have to come to us. We should be to the Northeast.”

Arcee grimaces as she begins stalking through the forest. She keeps low in the brush, light frame barely making a sound. She unsheathes her blades, cutting through branches and ivy in her path. “Helpful…” She tells him, but a smirk is clear on her face. She can hear his half-hidden chuckle.

“Hard to get a reading out in the middle of nowhere, Cee. We’re gonna look for shelter soon, but I’d advise heading that direction for now.” 

“Alright, stay safe, Bulk.” 

“... You too, Cee.” 

The line goes quiet, leaving Arcee to take in the thick sounds of the jungle. Brushes shook at every cut. Birds chattering high in the trees, hidden from her view. Arcee scowls. Despite the loneliness of her situation-- she cut through more vines-- a chill constantly ran through her spine… 

She steeps lower into the brushes, mindful of the anxious feeling invading her system. The more she traveled, the softer the birds sang… Softer and softer until their songs ceased into a dead stillness-- a waited breath, until a powerful roar of a drill echoed through the jungle. Arcee’s optics flash at the sound, and she stalks closer like a jaguar sneaking past a group of poachers: Decepticons. In the middle of the trees was a small clearing surrounded by drills and cargo loads emitting a bright blue glow. Arcee’s chest heaved watching the small team of vehicons drill into the earth. She ducked low as a troop surveyed the area… 

“Scrap…”

[weasleydailyprophet]

Remus : Dora, please be ca--- Tonks : *Falls from the stairs* Remus : --reful