#one is and isn't mine

[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.”

[seancefemme]

yeah well you want to fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid

[beif0ngs]

everyone on tumblr @Buggy the 🤡 right now 

[arezk]

definitely them<3

[critter-of-habit]

Filling the "No more Ahsoka episodes" void with silly meme redraws

[ollieartie]

I promise I'm alive just...really bogged down with stuff 😅

I was thinking about those celebration moments in One Piece and then the Miriam dance song and well...here we are

[obsidianbit]

I love this gay ass show with its literally life ending injuries that heal immediately, but only when convenient to the plot, and its ridiculous use of modern phrases, and its laughing in the face of historical accuracy, and its kissing the face of the fans instead of trying to outwit them, and the way everyone involved in the show seem to go 'I KNOW RIGHT! I'M EXCITED TOO!' instead of mocking the fans

[thetruthpdf]

WHAT WE DO IN THE SHADOWS — 4.06 The Wedding / 5.10 Exit Interview

[uncanny-tranny]

Social transition being seen (by some) as this super easy thing that isn't as hard as real transitioning (medical) is bullshit. Be critical of the idea that there are some trans people who just "have it easy" because they are trans or because they are trans in ways you may not be.

Social transition is just as difficult, hard, and rewarding as medical transition. Maybe it is not as hard for some, sure, but that is not the same as thinking that social transition is inherently easier or lesser. If you're socially transitioning, your voice still matters.

[waveoftheocean]

been thinking about brazil hinata recently so here he iiissss

[bylertruther]

in school, mike would be the type to go "you're so far away :(" and pull will's seat closer to him if not for the fact that will is already the type to scoot his desk as close to mike's as he possibly can before even sitting in it #real

[beatriceportinari]

Origami jellyfish, one square sheet of elephant hide paper. Colors are inspired by Thysanostoma loriferum. Zoom in to see the glitter!

[metriawaves]

packaged team, do not separate

[noonaracha]

oopsie 8/∞

[1000sunnygo]

Probably the most powerful expression Oda drew on Law because how many times have we seen him so broken and desperate. That's a boy who lost everyone within a single night along with his faith in humanity - spilling out his heart in front of a total stranger just so he can somehow evade re-experiencing this pain:

And this time it struck him worse . Now there's guilt along with grief because he brought the grim reaper to Cora himself.

Vergo is now dead and Doflamingo in Impel Down - but this isn't something you heal from in lifetime.

Years after, same story. Oda struck the same wound again, took away his sword and hat while at it, then left him in salt water.

[jesteringbug]

Wow! Your Ignihyde redesigns are so fucking ugly! So hideous and uninspired, and their ugliness is only amplified by your very poor drawing skills and even uglier art style! And it's laughable how you really believe that you did better than the official designs, never do that again, you can't design or draw for shit.

too late i'm already planning a heartslabyul redesign lmao