Header and profile pic are from @notlocallyeducated
The reblog spam has been moved to my alt @infernogoddess-reblogs
Everything has been updated with #mine for collection purposes, the art tag is #moth draws. #moth rambles and #moth writes are my writing tags. Also if you see the rambling tag and a #not writing, that just means it's not part of a fic.
Ao3 fics. (Some crossposted)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Some of time to torture jazz again is under the tag #tttj, will eventually crosspost it all but formatting has been weird.
Imagine a newly-arrived-to-Erid Grace, sealed in a small oxygenated observation room, lying asleep on a cushioned platform. So far, Rocky has been the only Eridian bold enough to put on a xenonite suit and join Grace in the room; other Eridian scientists are gathered just outside, listening to the alien shifting about -- in its sleep!!! -- and occasionally mumbling.
A particularly pessimistic and irritating Eridian is pontificating to the others, insisting on the highest degree of caution when interacting with the alien in any way, even if that comes at the sacrifice of speed in treating the alien's ailments. Rocky is furious at the implication of "even if that comes at the sacrifice of the alien, period", but silent, unwilling to express his counterargument at full volume and risk waking Grace. Still, he is almost vibrating with anger where he sits on the makeshift 'human-style' bed beside his friend.
"This creature moves about even when supposedly at rest! It's unnatural! Perhaps Rocky-hero only survived the journey here at all because he was safely on the other side of a barrier of xenonite and ammonia, out of this creature's reach. Who knows what violent urges and instincts are contained within that bizarre body?"
The collective attention of the gathered Eridians shifts to focus in on Grace's slumbering form.
As if on cue, Grace rolls onto his side, still snoozing away, and cuddles his whole body in a curve around Rocky's, in a shockingly-close mimicry of a parent [Eridian-cat-equivalent] curling around its [Eridian-kitten-equivalent].
Rocky is quite annoyed when the resulting chorus of [Eridian-"awww"-equivalent] IS enough to finally wake his human friend from his much-needed rest.
I also like to imagine a small subset of Eridians — maybe not bad people necessarily, but freaked out by a rapidly-and-suddenly-changing world and grasping for anything they can do to try and exert control over their circumstances? — jumping down Rocky’s figurative throat about him choosing to share so much potentially-sensitive information about Eridian anatomy and Erid’s culture, government, etc. with the first random sapient alien Rocky found floating out in space.
And then Rocky has to roll his figurative eyes and patiently (or not. Actually, definitely NOT patiently, that’s funnier) point out to those Eridians trying to scold him — the ‘random sapient alien’ freely chose to give ROCKY a massive data dump of information about the alien’s own race, including the precise location of the alien’s planet and instructions for how to build horrific weapons that could wipe out all life on that planet.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Optimus G1: Ooh, I like your accent, where you from?
Optimus (Prime): I am Liberian.
Optimus G1: Oh, my bad.
Optimus G1, whispering: I like your accent, where you from?
---
Transformers Prime Optimus has joined the group chat!
# my favourite part about this post # is that nowhere does it say to reblog this # but we’re all reblogging it # because if we have to suffer # so do other writers
online communities are so strange because people slip away so easily. you can be on here for years, folding people you've never met into the fabric of your daily life, and then they disappear, leaving only ghost posts scattered across tumblr behind. or their blog stays dormant, for weeks, months, years, until you're only still following them because you remember that they love sunflowers or they were kind to you when they didn't have to be or the last thing they posted was sad and raw and you still worry about them sometimes.
and sometimes they come back when you least expect it, years later, even, and there's this sudden rush of relief like there you are, there you are, even though you barely knew each other.
there's a strange kind of love to it. i don't know you and i want to hold your hand across miles and time zones and oceans. i can still see the imprint of you in this community you left. you don't think anyone will notice or care when you're gone, but we notice and we care and we wish you well.
i hope you're all okay out there. i hope the sun is shining on your face and you are breathing deeply. i miss you.
Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.
Alr alr I'm SORRY for doing this to yall but I was listening to "Coming Home - Part ll /Bonus Track" by Skylar Grey and...well...I got distracted again 🥲 LISTEN THO THE ANGST THE HURT/COMFORT THAT CAN COME OUT OF SIBLINGS SEPARATED BY WAR AND THE COSMOS-! Just! Agh!
Anyways...
As always credit to the absoutely incredible and talented @keferon for the Mecha Pilot Jazz AU, it continues to inspire me!
Fic under the cut
Jazz wasn't entirely sure what it was. How to explain it.
One minute he was on one of the tables in the rec room as he chatted with his Autobot pals, mecha parked next to it for easy access.
The next he was in his mecha, connected and sprinting to the bridge.
There was no warning. No buildup. No evidence, no logic. Nothing that should have triggered the response.
He tore through the Lost Light in a path of chaos, leaving shock, confusion and panic in his wake.
He was halfway to the bridge when his first conscious thought registered.
It's here.
It was just a whisper, an instinct, a feeling.
It's here.
He pushed harder, ran faster.
It's here.
By the time he reached the bridge everyone was on high alert, Red Alert sparking between the horns and a couple mechs ready to grab their weapons.
It's here.
Jazz hardly noticed them all. He leapt over consoles and heads to the front window, pressing his face to the glass.
"It's here...!" He whispered.
There, in front of him, off the right side of the ship, was the Milky Way Galaxy.
A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his daze.
"Jazz? Are you alright?" Prowl's voice was hard to hear through the ringing in his ears.
"It's here!" Jazz practically wheezed out. He felt like he couldn't breathe. "It's right there!"
Jazz saw Prowl frown out of the corner of Bebop's vision. "What's here?"
Jazz finally tore his eyes from the window, turning slowly to face Prowl. Despite any way of recognizing Jazz's emotions while he was in his mech, Prowl's eyes widened as they met his visor, before Jazz even opened his mouth.
"Home."
--------------------------------
It was a month before they found the right arm of the spiral galaxy, and another week after that to find and reach the right solar system, and it felt both like eternity and only a moment.
Jazz was on the bridge again, visor pressed to the glass as he watched the Lost Light come out of hyper speed.
And there it was.
It was barely visible from Jupiter, where they had slowed down to approach at a more cautious pace.
The Sun was blinding, reflecting off of the 2 planets between Jazz and Earth.
Home.
They passed Ceres and Mars quickly, and Jazz felt tears stream down his face at the sight of Earth in all its beautiful glory.
He turned and started a new mad dash across the ship, this time to the main airlock. He hardly felt it when they entered the atmosphere, skidding to a stop and bouncing impatiently as he reached the doors.
Once the ship landed, the airlock doors unlocked and Jazz practically punched the panel to open them, leaping out onto the flattened out plains of Minnesota, as soon as there was enough space. Mille Lacs Lake was visible in the distance, ruins of Brainerd and St. Cloud scattered across the barren landscape.
Jazz stood in front of the ship for a moment, just staring out at the broken land around him.
A loud whoop broke the silence, and Jazz only recognized it as his own voice a moment later as he began running and jumping around, crying out his excitement to the earth and sky surrounding him.
When he finally turned back to the ship, cheeks and eyes burning from smiling so wide and running out of tears, Prowl was standing just outside of the airlock with a tiny smile lifting the corners of his mouth.
The sky was dark, clouds promising rain with a deep roll of thunder that made Prowl jump slightly, looking up in surprise. Jazz ran to him, grabbing his servos and pulling him out into the rain as it started to drizzle.
Jazz danced in the rain, dragging Prowl along with him as they laughed in absolute joy.
They started to settle down as the rain really started to pick up, but Bebop's sensors picked up something large heading right for them.
Several of them, actually. Moving fast.
Jazz turned, pulling Prowl behind him just as they came into sight from around the ruins in the distance.
Jazz froze, new tears springing to his eyes, breath caught in his chest.
He saw the lead mech falter, orange visor flashing, before it picked up more speed, throwing standard caution to the wind.
Jazz mirrored it, sprinting towards the mech that mirrored his in all but color, vision blurring and lungs screaming as his heart pounded in his chest.
Jazz slowed just enough to catch Ricochet as they collided, swinging him around to prevent their momentum from doing any damage. When he finally let Rico's feet touch the floor again they dropped to the ground, clutching each other through their mechs.
They didn't move for a long while, sobbing in each others arms, too afraid it was all a dream to let go so soon. When Jazz finally pulled away, just enough to look Rico in the visor, he noticed the Terror Twins flanking them.
Jazz quickly pulled Rico to his feet. Now in a bit clearer state of mind, he sent a comm. connection request to Rico for the first time in years, holding his breath until it went through.
"Jazz- you're- you're actually- you're here, you're here and you're alive-"
Jazz let out a small sob at the sound of his brother's voice, nodding frantically.
"I'm here! I'm here, I'm so sorry it took me so long to get back to you, but I'm here now and you're still alive and you're okay-"
Rico pulled Jazz into another hug, repeating 'you're here' and 'you're okay' in a whisper.
Jazz finally pulled in a deep breath, for the first time in a long while feeling free.
I'm home.
-----------------------------------------
Omg this took literally FOREVER to finish, just went back and checked and I PROMISED YOU ALL THIS FIC IN JANUARY
What is even my life anymore
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed, there wasn't really much jp in this one but I'm working on more I promise!
Let me know if you guys want part two of this, I have some of it written but dialogue is so hard.
As always, I hope you all have a wonderful next 24 hours!
The concept of the NOTP as a larger part of fandom etiquette. No moralizing tirades, no condescending screeds about media literacy, no trying to equate shipping or not shipping something with being better than someone else. Just...oh, that ship? Nah, that's a NOTP for me.
Reblogging my own post because I guess the Ancient Texts have been lost worse than I thought, lol!
For the newbie generation of fans, the "NOTP" is a play on the fandom term "OTP" (or One True Pairing), except it is a pairing that you have a deep, abiding, visceral DISlike for. It is your "Nope!" pairing, your "No!" True Pairing. A fandom ship that you want nothing to do with...but do not wish to ascribe any moral failing or judgement to people who DO ship it.
NOT STARSCREAM SPECIFICALLY has teeth. A because it's Cool and B because regular cybertronians are confirmed to have teeth and Not Starscream is obviously like. Trying to resemble one of those. But mostly because it's cool. go be free my terrible child. bite. bite !!! BITE !!!!
TRUE. almost every time I draw Beasts (this is often) i end up spending just way too long rendering the teeth. teeth are just very fun ! everybody loves teeth
I HAVE NOW. SOME OF IT. I'M VERY TIRED RIGHT NOW. PERHAPS I'LL ACTUALLY ABSORB ANY OF IT ON A LATER DATE 👍 COOL CONCEPT I LIKE THE CONCEPT
Go commit crimes against all sentient lifeforms (not) starscream
He doin his best not his fault that cybertronians r hard to mimic, poor little meow meow *visible in the corner is Starscream eating something unidentifiable*
Teeeeeefths
Yippee! Also the gonna tag the creator of the fic cause they chill and i want them to see someone so cool liking their fic!
Me: *makes numerous posts about my disability, both as forms of positivity and kinky posts, as means to bring a positive atmosphere towards said disability and make everything brighter and more accepting*
Bigots: *endlessly ridicule my disability, calling me a pervert, a pedo, and whining about "untagged kink" on posts that are tagged and aren't even always kink (some were flat out positivity posts)*
Me: wow. so ableist. piss your pants.
The stalker that misgenders me and reports my sfw selfies as CSA: "uhhh you're the ableist for saying piss your pants"
It's so telling what their priorities are though. They don't care about the terf who sent horrific gore to me with a long screed about me being raped and murdered calling me homophobic and transphobic slurs. They don't care about the weirdo blog that stalked me and kept posting about me and is the only reason said terf knew I existed. They don't care about the many blogs that literally demonized my disability as gross and "kink." They don't care about the terf calling me a pedo for having consensual kink with a 21 year old. They don't care about the terf that called me a pedo for flirting with someone in their 30s. They don't care about the terfs that stalked me and got my PayPal and venmo removed cuz I'm a trans woman. They don't care about the multiple bloggers intentionally misgendering me. They don't care about the ableism or the transmisogyny.
They care about me saying "piss your pants" at the end of a post mocking my harasser. Says a lot about you. You won't even say shit off anon, goes to show you know you're in the wrong.
