#I'm sorry it's not longer

[carrion-carry-on]

Meeting Music

Okay so this is a (quite short) fic involving @cuppajj ‘s wonderful OC Drillburst, and my own OC Pillar.

When it comes to writing with another person’s OC, I do my best to get into contact with their creator. And Cuppa has been amazing with that! Still, regardless, any mistakes are completely my own.

Arriving back on Cybertron following the end of the war was different for every mech. That much was to be expected. Being that the Autobots had “won,” arriving in the company of two former Decepticons made things a touch more complicated. Iona, for her part, kept up her air of apathetic arrogance. Ace asked what was going on about halfway through each new vetting process; all these new faceplates and designations did no wonders on his already fragile comprehension. Pillar tried to manage both his comrades’ aggression and confusion the best way he knew how - by being present. He insisted that for every interview, every test, every licensing exam, he needed to be in the room. He wasn’t about to let two of the few good sparks he had left be screwed over by the new-age society that wasn’t as righteous and non-judgemental as it proclaimed itself to be.

This meant, by the end of the whole thing, Pillar was absolutely exhausted. he didn’t like socializing at the best of times. Two friends he could handle - he’d been stuck out in space with them, on a tiny shuttle, for Primus-knew-how-long. But all of the red tape and hoop jumping wore his people-skills to a thin line. When he snapped at Iona to “just buff her chassis herself” (which had been received with a mild raise of an optical ridge) Pillar knew he needed to get out on his own again. Murmuring an apology, Pillar quickly excused himself and retreated from the room, grabbed his tool kit, and transformed to race off down the unfamiliar streetways.

After some wandering, and realizing he recognized absolutely nothing, Pillar resigned himself to peaking his helm into random places until he found something suitable. He needed a smaller place, without too-boisterous of an atmosphere, and a good corner to hide away in. There was no way he’d be able to find a mech-less place in this city. But the fewer, the better.

He discovered his space for the off-cycle in a smaller, quieter bar. The moment his green optics peered inside and found a mix of Decepticons, Autobots, and even NAILs, Pillar felt a bit more at ease. Maybe, if he ever felt like risking the company, he might even bring Iona and Ace here. His entrance went unnoticed. To his surprise, and appreciation, Pillar noted more easily-accessible seating scattered throughout the main floor. It felt nice not to have to hop a bit to get into a seat.

There was no server that he could locate which suited him fine. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel like drinking this time around. Instead he pulled out his latest project and began fiddling with the wiring. His Primus-given helmlight was barely noticeable in the brighter bar. However, as the breems ticked by, Pillar failed to notice the dimming lights. That is until the surrounding mecha cleared their exhausts, startling the ex-miner from his reverie. Embarrassed, Pillar immediately snuffed his lights, even going so far as to dim the natural biolights crossing his chassis. Though it pained him to do so, Pillar extended his EM field, pushing apology to the forefront. Satisfied, nearby patrons shifted in their seats to focus ahead on the still-lit stage. 

Pillar immediately stiffened in his seat, wondering how he could have missed something like this. (He knew how, he once again got caught up in his work and the world around ceased to exist/matter.) Checking the bar’s available public feed, Pillar quickly learned that there were apparently regular performances from local artists hosted at the establishment. That didn’t sound like his preferred space. He liked lights-on, quiet places, somewhere he could work without being disturbed too much by outside presence.

With his biolights still dimmed, Pillar quietly shifted out of his seat and made his way towards the exit. He made sure to weave around tables seating regular-sized Cybertronians, to avoid further humiliation of having to crouch. By this point, a large - scratch that huge mech stepped up onto the stage. That in itself might have given Pillar some pause. It was the mech’s design that actually made him stop.

They were almost entirely green in color, with massive column-treads over either shoulder. The continuation of treads along their pauldron-armor and legs spoke to a tank or similar alt-mode. That stopped at the drill halves situated over, almost shielding, the arms. This mech had to have been a miner before the War. And yet they did not wear a Decepticon crest, to Pillar’s surprise and growing respect. But it was a strange symbol, black and jagged. It looked most similar to an odd organic skull.

The mech paused on stage, seemingly waiting for some unknown que. His visor grew shadowed even in the only remaining halo of light. Then he began to hum.

The sound, amplified by the combination of speakers and the mech's own electro-bass, shook through the stage and down into the flooring. Pillar might find the tables trembling if he were inclined to turn his optics from the stage. Not long into those first few powerful notes, the mech raised a pede and lightly struck the stage. It didn't take long for bar patrons to join the beat. Pillar, despite himself, took to knocking one servo against his plating.

Pillar remembered this song. They sang a similar version back in the mines of Luna 2. And that brought a whole slew of unwanted information recalls to his processor. He had buried most with a reason. But he still found himself whispering along to those lyrics in the bid of a forgotten self.

It’s dark as a dungeon,

And damp as the dew.

Where the danger is double

And pleasures are few

Where the rain never falls

And the sun never shines.

It’s dark as a dungeon

Way down in the mines.

The miners kept time in their swings. And the mechs like Pillar stayed out of their way. But he still found himself singing when one would eventually demand he help haul. A technician solely in function title - at the end of the cycle, he'd still been made to pick up the slack. And there was always, always more work to be done.

The mech's field pushed a somber, melancholy feeling into the crowd. It was slow to come and gently flowing. And Pillar recognized it was echoed by many of the other patrons. Most seemed to be lost, like the performer, like himself, in darker thoughts. Darker thoughts, and darker spaces still. Places lit only by crystalline lamps if you were lucky, and your own lights if not. The smell of a new vein to promise success, calling them deeper. The sensation of shavings grinding inside pumps and vents, never rid of the past.

But, like a tide of oil, the performer's tone changed. His field gained a softer, almost hopeful, feeling, and weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. He sang lyrics Pillar had never heard, even in all the different versions he'd run across.

Though I carry my scars

And feeling’s still new

And I pick through the rubble

And I’m most of’n blue

I’ll walk down the halls

And meet all new kinds

I’m ‘way from the dungeon

Way down in the mines.

Now the mech was looking up, away from the stage, and passing the ceiling. Something different graced his strong features; a small quirk of lip components in what Pillar could almost call a smile. The bar had grown quiet by then, all listening, watching. And someone started to clap. Then everyone was clapping, some even whooping their praise.

And their performer looked at his audience for the first time that cycle. The small smile was bigger, more sincere, and confident. He returned to his performance with renewed vigor, earlier mood appearing forgotten, and the cheering crowd grew softer.

Pillar stayed for the mech's entire performance. And though not all of the songs appealed to him, he still found himself enjoying the atmosphere they created. For the first time in a long time, he felt relaxed.

Drillburst of Velux (according to the information feed) played and sang for them, and for himself. As the set continued, his confidence grew. He still looked haunted, to Pillar's optics, but this was a break afforded by indulging in post-war freedoms. A miner performing on stage - far, far away from the deadly tunnels; a miracle from function.

Pillar returned to his shared apartment at the end of the cycle. It was around the time for another appointment with the newly founded "Reparation and Renewal" agency. Iona didn't say much, aside from a snarky comment on "behaving the better 'bot," which Pillar dutifully chuffed at. He was smiling part way through - something Ace seemed astounded by and loudly pointed out.

“I want to show you guys something.”

[shayneysides]

hobie: kill yourself

pavitr: WHAT THE HELL BRO WHAT DID I DO

original format from @ha-youwish in this post!

[mumblers-lobby]

We don't know that guy.

Before anyone starts whining, go donate to the fund OUR community started for actual SA victims. Shut up and put a dollar on the jar. Thanks, Good Night.

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 48-52)

FOUND.

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[shroompette]

Maine Coon Cat!König living alone in his den, generally unbothered until Bunny!Reader shows up during a storm, seeking shelter under the overhang of his home. Wet, cold and with an injured leg, König takes pity on her and brings her inside.

MCCat!König who doesn't really have many veggies lying around, but he does have some fruit. He watches Bunny!Reader's cheeks grow chubby as she stuffs them with bananas and canned nectarines. Poor thing, she must have been starved. He gives her a can of strawberries as well, which she neatly tucks away in her raincoat. He does not question her about it.

MCCat!König who, after he feeds Bunny!Reader, carefully rolls up the fabric of her pants to inspect and disinfect the nasty cut on her calf, taking the opportunity to give a closer look to her as a whole. He finds himself enchanted with the long, fluffy ears that droop around the sides of her head. Even wet, they still look enticing, cotton-soft and he wants to brush them, rub his cheeks against them, kiss them, pull them, bite them-

MCCat!König who manages to make Bunny!Reader a little nest to sleep in out of spare pillows and blankets, the crackle of the flames dancing in the fireplace lulling her to sleep. He watches her for a while and nearly purrs with delight when she rolls over in her sleep and reveals the round little scut that he'd like to use as a stress ball.

MCCat!König whose big ears twitch as he hears the sound of his front door opening in the morning, knowing Bunny!Reader must have slipped out into the woods again and it makes his heart pang just a little before he resumes his everyday life.

MCCat!König who is absolutely flabbergasted when a week passes and there's a knock on his door behind which stands Bunny!Reader and her three little buns. Without a word, she ushers them inside before disappearing into the woods. He isn't sure what to do. He has half a mind to run after her, but he fears leaving the buns alone would give them an opportunity to cause mischief and he'd rather not come back and find his den on fire. He stays, letting them sit in his big lap and play with his tail that sometimes tickles them on their twitchy little noses, so similar to their mother's. They're very messy eaters too - they seem to love strawberries, little fingers and cheeks sticky with their juice.

MCCat!König who is equally relieved and enraged when Bunny!Reader finally shows up hours later with a satchel of herbs and veggies for her babies who are currently bundled up in the nest he reassembled. He is about to tell her off, inform her that he isn't a babysitter when she stands on her tiptoes and nuzzles his nose ever so gently, difusing his anger completely. He barely blinks before she's off to check on her buns, satisfied with the state she finds them in - alive, with full bellies and sleeping.

MCCat!König who slowly gets used to Bunny!Reader dropping off her kids at his doorstep and watching them for a day or two before she comes back and expresses her gratitude via soft gesture such as nuzzle or a cheek kiss.

MCCat!König who sometimes makes Bunny!Reader stay in the den with the buns to go on a veggie/herb hunt himself, just so she can spend some quality time with them. He can not pinpoint the exact moment he became so whipped for her.

MCCat!König who starts leaving the nest out permanently because he knows Bunny!Reader won't stop coming around and neither will her buns anytime soon (he'd miss them greatly if they did).

MCCat!König who lets Bunny!Reader sleep in the spare cot (that he built just for her) in his room until she decides one night that sleeping beside him would be more comfortable. He does not try to object this in the slightest, not when he can finally feel her fluffy ears against his face.

MCCat!König who regularly grooms the buns' hair and furry ears and Bunny!Reader's as well with his coarse tongue, thinking he's displaying dominance over her. He has no idea she thinks she is the one in charge by letting him groom her.

MCCat!König who's suddenly not alone anymore. The quiet days of his den are over as it's now filled with laughter and chattering of the three little buns who have began to call him "Papa". He never knew two simple syllables could bring him so much joy...and then there's Bunny!Reader, with her genius manipulative tactics that involve licks, kisses and adorable tiny stomps of her feet when she wants something done her way. He would not trade her for anything in the world.

MCCat!König who slowly starts thinking his den is too big for just the five of them...and that perhaps he and Bunny!Reader should start working on some kitten siblings for the buns.

masterlist • pt2

[otiksimr]

Mew but- but god.

General concept for this "redesign":

Mew is like a forgotten creation God, sure there are references here and there about them but they're never directly mentioned. They're implied to exist but no one's really sure ya know?

Nowadays they just wander about, playing little pranks and messing around for the most part.

Arceus had shaped the universe with it's thousand arms and Mew gave the universe life by scattering it's soul.

[somerandomcockroach]

Hi hi! I just want to say I really like your artwork (though I’m a bit of a lurker so I’ve been a bit nervous to say anything until now 🫣). I can’t draw but I guess I can colour, so I decided to colour this sketch of yours! (I promise I didn’t repost it anywhere or pretend it’s mine I just wanted to show my admiration for your work 😭) I hope you have a good day!

Oh sweetie your coloring is (I almost said lovely ahah) intimidating in the most possible compliment way, I love it <3

[lulu-draws-stuff]

How does that sound?

[misternibbs]

i'll see you on the moon

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG AAAA

art trade with @bluestarlett !!! fbfjfjjfjd seraph is SO PRETTY I AM SO HAPPY I ACTUALLY GOT TO DRAW HIM :D !!!!!! DHDNFJFJF this is . rendering wise it's kinda ass but yeah I drew him !! thanks for drawing my guy again this was really fun to do :3333

lineart :3

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[pricklybruin]

Transformers Reverse Mini-Bang 2024 (@tf-bigbang) is finally here!!💥💥 Here is my piece, featuring Minimus and Ravage on a mission on a frozen planet. It's quite eventful!

Please go read @icypolargirl78 's wonderful fic Dead and Melting Ice!!!

((Close-ups below cut <3))

[danieyells]

UPCOMING CARDS

Frostheim Masquerade units(stats in a reblog because tumblr mobile won't let me upload more than 10 images in one go) and some sprite names for the next episode, which should be Mortkranken! (No title yet, which worries me a bit lol)

Character Card: Fractured Heartline(「心の裂け目をなぞる指」  "Fingers Tracing Cracks In The Heart") Skill: Limousine Escort(「リムジンの送迎」  "Dropped Off And Picked Up By Limousine") Fully Awakened Skill: Heir To The Kamurai Fortune(「冠氷財閥の御曹司」  "The Heir To The Kamurai Conglomerate") Warding Card: King's Morning(「キングの身支度」  "The King Gets Dressed")

Character Card: Crystal Virtue(「正義の棲む晶洞」  "The Crystal Cave Where Justice Lives") Skill: Polyglot(「ポリグロット」  "Polyglot") Fully Awakened Skill: Protective Blade(「守るための剣」  "A Sword Whose Purpose Is Protecting") Warding Card: Knight's Morning(「ナイトの身支度」  "The Knight Gets Dressed")

Character Card: Midnight Toast(「更けゆく夜への献杯」  "A Toast To The Latening Evening") Skill: Masked Intent(「見えぬ本心」  "Unshown True Intentions") Fully Awakened Skill: The King's Right Hand(「王の右腕として」  "The King's Right Hand Man") Warding Card: Rook's Morning(「ルークの身支度」  "The Rook Gets Dressed")

Character Card: Radiant Archer(「光弓の射手」  "Glowing Bow's Archer") Skill: Man Up(「漢、魁斗……」  "Be A Real Man, Kaito...") Fully Awakened Skill: Bolt From The Blue(「迅雷の一矢」  "The Sudden Thunder Of An Arrow") Warding Card: Pawn's Morning(「ポーンの身支度」  "The Pawn Gets Dressed")

New cosmic bonds! As usual I don't know what units are in these. Sorry! Although it's easy to guess lol

Morning Routine (「モーニングルーティーン」 "Morning Routine")

The Masquerade Of Frostheim (「フロストハイムの仮面舞踏会」 "Frostheim's Masquerade Ball")

The next episode, as I mentioned before, is most likely Mortkranken! The unique sprites are only referred to as "Pest" so who knows what that means. There will be two casual outfits for Yuri and Jiro and based on the filename "[Name]AcademyRobe" maybe there'll be some kind of assembly? Hard to tell but I'd be interested in knowing if they're the same robes as the ones in the pre-prologue. . .there'll also be a workout/training outfit sprite for both Luca and Jiro! Finally they'll get to train like Luca wanted in that campus chat maybe!! :'D

I don't have to say it every time but I will anyway!

Gacha is gambling and banners rerun! Please don't spend money you aren't able to lose trying to get things you won't be able to keep long term! The unit will come back in the coming months if you miss it, so you can always save back up!

My Japanese isn't very good so please take my translations with a grain of salt!

Brush your teeth and also floss! You've got a big day ahead, simply for being alive.

Unit stats in the reblogs!

[veggiukabu]

This is what Rin meant about that he'll devour Isagi

School day is coming I'm fucking cooked

[kiwikiwiandkiwi]

HARRY BEING HARRY ON TOUR — Love on Tour: UK + Europe Leg, 2023

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

We could have had it all...

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[morethanmemory]

Cold on during a night?

Crawl into Phosphorus' bed without anyone noticing so the guards can have a little freakout in the morning <3

Pairing: Doctor Phosphorus/Reader

Warnings: None; Some suggestive touching

Notes: Thank you for the request, anon! Just some short Phosphorus fluff for y'all (: Reader has draconic heritage so Phosphorus's radioactive flames don't burn because uhhh I said so ! Y'all will not believe the amount of research I did on underground temperatures and sewer lines just to see if it made sense for the non-human wing to be cold, and yes, Belle Reve (according to wiki) is in Louisiana!

---

Winter at Belle Reve is, by far, the worst season. This deep underground, the Non-Human Internment Division should be marginally warmer than the world above, but fifty years of deteriorating, shitty-to-begin-with insulation has left the entire wing about as toasty as the North Pole. The old concrete does little to ward off the night chill, especially when it rains. Nestled within a web of storm drains and sewer lines, coupled with crappy plumbing, the Non-Human wing is the unfortunate victim of leaky pipes and dank cells every Louisiana winter.

Phosphorus's personal hellhole is no exception.

Plink. A drop lands on his brow, evaporating the moment it touches his radioactive skin. Hiss. He turns with a grumble, tugging the threadbare, itchy blanket over his head. Plink. Another droplet hits his foot. Hiss.

Cold. Wet. Miserable. Winter at Belle Reve is, by far, the worst season.

But, there is one bright side.

The air vent in the center of his room shudders, filling the cell with the groan of rusty metal. A second later, you're unceremoniously tumbling from his ceiling like a baby bird tossed from its nest. You land by his bed in a crumpled heap, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

With a pained moan, you get to your feet, dusting off the cobwebs that cling to your uniform.

"You really stuck the landing this time," he snickers softly as he props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you.

"Fuck off," you hiss under your breath. You pick a dead spider from between the silver scales running up your forearm and flick it at him with a scoff. It burns to a crisp as he yelps in disgust.

Still, he lifts his blanket as you pad nearer.

"You're a terrible house guest."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you apologize dramatically, placing a hand over your heart as you hover above him. "You must forgive me. I believe I forgot my fucks in the air ducts about three cells back."

You can hear him rolling his eyes even as he reaches up to place his hand on your hip.

"You're a real comedian tonight, aren't you?" he murmurs playfully. His hand slides to the small of your back, gently pulling you down beside him. The old mattress springs shriek in squeaky horror beneath your combined weight, squealing as you both shuffle under the single sheet.

You stifle a laugh as his head hits the concrete wall behind him in his haste to make space for you, and Phosphorus pinches your hip in retaliation.

"Shut it, Smaug the Terrible," he mutters, drawing you closer. "I'm trying to be a gentleman."

A soft chuckle slips past your lips, and you fix him with an amused look. "You? A gentleman?"

"Is it that unbelievable?"

Your silence answers him loud and clear.

"Asshole," he huffs, pulling the blanket over you, and you can't help but giggle.

His warmth, radioactive and sickly as it is, is a welcome reprieve from the biting cold of the cell. The phosphorescent glow of his skin illuminates your features, glinting off your silver scales like the Northern Lights dancing over a dark lake. Soft shadows stretch themselves over the rough scutes along your brow and cheeks, and you let out a quiet, happy hum as he gently traces the jagged trail of scales with his thumb.

He doesn't tell you that you're hogging the blanket or that you've yanked it high enough to leave his feet bared to the seemingly endless drip of freezing water from the pipes above. Instead, Phosphorus lazily drapes his arm around your waist and tugs you closer.

"You'd think we'd at least get upgraded to bigger beds for saving the world," he grouses, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt in search of soft skin and sharp scales.

"What, the ping-pong table wasn't thanks enough?"

Phosphorus snorts out a light laugh and catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I would've preferred they approved my other request."

"The cafeteria soda fountain?" you grin as the tip of his thumb drags along your bottom lip. He leans closer, close enough that you can feel his breath dance down the bridge of your nose. Slowly, Phosphorus tips your head back until your warm eyes meet his hollow sockets.

"Yeah, sure," he whispers, lips brushing your own. "The soda fountain."

You can't see it, but you know he's smiling, can feel the curve of it as his lips press against yours. And then, he's kissing you. Slow, soft, sweet. He cradles your face in the same hand that's melted through the flesh and bone of countless men. His touch, though, is anything but deadly.

The hand under your shirt travels higher, mapping out the arch of your spine and the ridge of razor-sharp spikes running up it, and you whine for more. More of this tenderness neither of you have known in so, so long. The tip of his tongue drags over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a fight. Sharp words fail you both in the face of this soft sweetness. The warmth that rolls off his tongue is still unfamiliar but not unwelcome. It seeps into every fiber of your being, liquid hot in your veins, molten metal down your throat. You should burn beneath his hands, crumble to ash and dust like everything else he's ever known, but you don't.

Your hands swiftly find their way to his jaw with a clumsy desperation, and sparks shoot across his skin as your scales scrape against it. He moans into your open mouth, fighting down a hungry growl, but his body betrays him. His hand hikes your shirt up; his hips roll against your own. He's kissing you a little faster, a little harder.

Plink.

The splatter of one, two, three droplets of ice-cold water against your forehead cuts through the building heat between the two of you, and you pull away with a quiet giggle. Phosphorus groans, a low rumble caught between irritation and amusement, chasing after your lips.

Plink. Plink. He sneezes as a few drops of water tickle his nose. Hiss.

With a defeated sigh and a final nip at your bottom lip, Phosphorus relents, surrendering to the battalion of leaking pipes. At least, he thinks, you're still here, laughing in his arms. As your laughter fades, you bury your face in his chest and breathe him in deep. He smells like the world after a thunderstorm, and your eyes drift shut as you commit the scent to memory.

"Don't let me fall asleep," you yawn, nestling yourself against him despite how his prison-issued shirt scratches your cheeks. "The guards—"

"I know," he shushes you, kissing your forehead. "I won't."

He tries his best. Really, he does. He talks to you about everything under the sun. Nuclear physics, his favorite composer, the time he watched Weasel spend five minutes trying to hack up a fork. You tell him about ancient runes, your favorite authors, the time you ate a police officer (completely in self-defense) and nearly choked on his femur.

Leaving before sun-up, sneaking out before the guards catch you, making sure you don't fall asleep so the scales you've grown above the tracker in your neck can stay up and disrupt the location transmission—they're all an excuse. Because, truth be told, all either of you really want are a few more stolen moments. Another story shared in hushed whispers beneath his fraying bedsheet. Another teasing touch that leaves you both wanting more. Another hour, minute, second. You don't remember falling asleep.

When you wake, it's to angry shouts and rough hands. One moment, you're wrapped up in Phosphorus's sturdy arms; the next, you're face down in a puddle of dirty water on the floor of his cell, pinned down by a guard that smells of nacho cheese. You feel the unmistakable burn of blazing radiation fill the tiny room, see the bright glare of his skin flaring like wildfire before your eyes, hear a shrill shriek of a horrified guard echo against the concrete walls. For a split second, you think it might actually work this time, that your fight for a few more moments won't be futile, but a skull-splitting pain rips through your body. You know Phosphorus feels it too when he limply lands beside you with a dull thud.

Your eyes meet, and with the little strength he has left after the shock, Phosphorus reaches out to brush his hand against yours.

Solitary confinement for the week is worth it. Every time.