seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from Brazil
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from China
seen from China
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seen from United States
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seen from Philippines
â singingforcybertron || continued from here
â„â;; âCyclonus!â Tailgate nuzzled into the other mechâs neck cables, giving him a little squeeze. âI missed you while we were on shore leave! And I brought you back a souvenir! You really should have come, you would have loved it...â
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⯠singingforcybertron liked for a starter
â...Cyclonus, yes?â
âIâve heard a bit about you.â
singingforcybertron replied to your post â*heart eyes* princess bride auâ
//SLAMS HANDS only if Cyc can be the Inigo Montoya
SCREAMS
  âOh Cyclonus please, despite the open invitation I think the only rascal    tall enough to even reach that area is Tailgate. The only thing Iâd be    doing if I helped myself would be giving you a piggy back ride and ---    I like being your close friend. I donât want that relationship to end yet.â
singingforcybertron entered the med bay.
Scarred: Hello!
NightSpeed: Hi
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singingforcybertron
He still wasnât entirely certain why heâd volunteered for Crosscutâs latest production - this one a Cybertronian adaptation of Les Miserables - but, here he was, with one of the lead roles. Inspector Javert. Thinking he was alone, he began practicing one of the songs. âThere... out in the darkness, a fugitive running...â
singingforcybertron liked for a starter with Mini-Minimus.
Maybe it was nothing, but Minimus Ambus was feeling a tad... exposed. He wasnât used to not having either suit of armor on him for any amount of time, but since the Minimus Armor was currently broken - to the point that it was refusing to move the left side of the Magnus Armor - he had to be in his irreducible state. That meant seeking out the minibot protector, as heâd heard the crew refer to him. Poking his head into the door, he asked, âMay I come in?â
Like for a starter  for singingforcybertron
ââ€â || âYou get in, you get outâ.Â
That was her set of instructions. Simple, to the point, and something sheâd deemed too easy. Her first âreconnaissance missionâ, as Tarn had deemed it. Just go into the heavily populated area, take a look around, and, of course, donât forget to visit the bar. Because, apparently, a good portion of Decepticons had been âuseless, no-good, drunks.â
Three steps all with the goal of finding out just how outdated their information was on their next target.Â
In reality, though, sheâd just offered herself up as a, quote on quote, ââspyââ so the five would stop bickering on the âbest course of actionâ.
The first part of the âmissionâ was useless. Thousands of bots and creatures of different sizes wandering the streets and shoving past each other without so much as a second glanceâ without any concern towards one another.
Needless to say, the femme already had a comm-link open the moment she shoved her way into the bar. However, it doesnât even ping once before itâs shut down. Someone had wandered right into a good olâ fashioned bar brawl.
"Uh oh," she releases, just a quiet little rush of air before her optics snap from the scene in front of her to focus on two rather large projectiles tumbling over a table, âUh oh.â
Since when did bar fights actually become a thing?
