#i much prefer normal computers

[simplyghosting]

My mom couldn’t log into her job portal on either her phone or tablet to see her schedule for the week and was panicking, so I let her use my college laptop and there was no issue. Desktop operating system superiority.

[risingsunresistance]

wanted to make a fun doodle for pride when i woke up this morning but i left my ipad at the house :V

[mariasont]

im obsessed with reid’s hands. He’s got gorgeous long fingers its just🫶🏻😩. Id like to request a fic/blurbs whichever you prefer, revolves around that.. maybe he knows the reader loves his hands (especially when he cradles her face-neck and hair pulling).. nothing too spicy tho.. if you dont mind. Love your fics sm🥹

Where Hands Lead - S.R

a/n: i am also a victim to being desperately obsessed with spencer's hands! guilty af! and thank u so much babes i appreicate the love and the request <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x reader

warnings: established relationship, hand kink, spencer being a smug little shit, domestic fluff, teasing galore, just two cuties being ridiculously in love!

wc: 1.6k

Spencer Reid's hands were a marvel. You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment you noticed them--maybe it was the day you saw him fiddling with a pen during a team meeting, his fingers deftly spinning it like he'd been born doing it. Or maybe it was the time he'd held out a hand to help you up after you got knocked on your ass after rough case, his long fingers wrapping around yours, pulling you to his feet. Whatever the moment, the realization hit you like a freight train: Spencer's hands were distracting. 

Of course, you never said it out loud. Not at first. How do you casually tell your boyfriend that his hands are your newest fixation? You'd settled for sneaky glances, admiring the way his fingers moved over the keys of his computer or absentmindedly tapped against his thigh when he was lost in thought. 

You thought you were being subtle.

But Spencer was sharper than you gave him credit for... and you gave him a lot of credit.

It started with small things. The way he'd catch you staring and tilt his head slightly, curiosity painting his features. Or how his lips would quirk into the barest smile when he'd reach for something near you and your gaze lingered a second too long. He'd never said anything, but you had the nagging suspicion he was onto you.

Then came the day he decided to test his theory.

It had been a rare quiet evening at his apartment. The team's latest case had wrapped up earlier than expected, leaving you both with an unexpectedly free night. Spencer, ever the perfectionist, had insisted on cooking dinner. You'd agreed easily, not-so-secretly thrilled at the prospect of spending uninterrupted tie with him. He'd shooed you out of the kitchen when you tried to help, insisting that you relax while he handled everything.

You were setting the table when it started. Spencer reached over to hand you a glass, his fingers brushing against yours. You glanced at him quickly, hoping he hadn't noticed the way your breath caught.

He had.

Spencer's expression didn't give away much--just the faintest quirk of his lips as he turned back to the counter. He began chopping vegetables, his fingers expertly curling and flexing around the knife. The movement was smooth, precise, almost hypnotic, and before you knew it, your eyes were drawn to them again.

"Everything okay over there?" he asked casually, not looking up. His voice was innocent enough, sure, but there was a certain lilt to it that made your cheeks heat.

"Fine," you replied, probably too quickly, forcing your attention back to the table. You busied yourself with arranging the plates, trying to will away the warmth spreading through you. 

Spencer, however, wasn't finished with whatever game he seemed to be playing. As you moved past him to grab utensils, he shifted just enough for his hand to brush against the small of your back. The touch was so light it could have been accidental, but it lingered just a fraction too long to be dismissed entirely. The warmth of it sparked along your spine, making your pulse leap in a way you couldn't quite explain.

What was wrong with you today? He was your boyfriend, for crying out loud. Casual touches like this were normal--expected, even. And yet, every brush of his fingers seemed to unravel you more. You cast a quick glance up at him, trying to gauge if he'd noticed your reaction, but Spencer simply smiled, his expression innocent, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

You clenched the utensils in your hand, suddenly desperate to shake off this fixation before Spencer figured out what was going on. The last thing you needed was for him to think you were completely crazy--obsessed with something as specific as his hands. Surely, that wasn't normal. 

 By the time you finally sat down to eat, your nerves were fully frayed. Flustered didn't even begin to cover it. Spencer, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He moved with his usually calm efficiency, placing food on the table with a soft smile. As he handed you a serving spoon, his fingers brushed against yours once again--warm, gentle, and far too distracting. You lingered a second longer than necessary, and while he didn't say a word, the subtle upward twitch of his lips suggested he notice.

Determined to pull yourself together, you focused on your plate. Or at least, you tried. Every movement Spencer made seemed designed to draw your attention. The way his long fingers curled around his fork, deliberate and precise, made your breath hitch. His index finger tapped lightly against the side of his glass as he considered something. Even the simple act of wiping his mouth with his napkin--slow, measured, maddeningly deliberate--seemed orchestrated to unravel you.

When dinner ended, you were quick to rise, eager to clear the table and escape the tight coil of your own thoughts. But Spencer was quicker. Before you could take a single step, his hand caught your wrist, fingers curling around you with just enough pressure to stop you in your tracks.

"I'll take care of it," he said, thumb brushing against the inside of your wrist before letting go.

Normally, you would argue. He'd cooker dinner, after all--it was only fair that you clean up. But today left you rooted to the spot. You sank back into your chair, wordless, your gaze following him as he moved around the kitchen.

Spencer rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the lean muscle of his forearms, and your eyes betrayed you once again, drawn back to his hands. The way they worked was mesmerizing--graceful and efficient as he dried plates, stacked dishes, and wiped down the counters with practiced ease. 

Spencer must have felt your gaze because he glanced over his shoulder, lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. He didn't rush, taking his time as he finished tidying up. When he was done, he dried his hands on a dish towel, then set it aside before making his way back to you. His hands were empty now, but no less captivating.

Stopping in front of your chair, Spencer lowered himself to one knee, his eyes meeting yours. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Heat swelled to your face, mind scrambling for something--anything--coherent to say. "I--what?"

Spencer chuckled softly, his hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You're not as subtle as you think."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look in his eyes stopped you.

"Next time," he continued, his thumb moving to brush against your cheek, his touch featherlight, "just tell me. I'd hate for you to sit there suffering in silence."

"I... don't know what you mean."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Oh, is that right?"

You nodded quickly.

"So you wouldn't mind if I did this?" he murmured, reaching out to cup your cheeks with the utmost care.

The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, his thumb brushing slow, delicate arcs along your cheekbones. His fingers, long and steady, curled around the sides of your face, glueing you in place. Your breath hitched, the air between you thickening as your thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. Words failed you, leaving only the rapid thrum of your heart.

"Or this?" he added, voice softer now, almost a whisper. His fingers slid upward, tangling in your hair with a sort of practiced ease that sent sparks racing along your legs. He tugged lightly, just enough to tilt your head and pull a soft, involuntary gasp from your lips. The gentle pressure was intoxicating, and you bit down on your bottom lip, completely undone.

"Spencer..." you managed, though it barely passed a whisper. His name trembled on your lips, a plea and a confession all at once.

"Or this?" he continued, one hand sliding down to rest on your thigh. His fingers curled just slightly. Your pulse quickened, a fluttering sound that betrayed just how completely he had you in his grasp. Spencer leaned in closer, expression smug, lips moving into a smile that left you breathless. 

"And what about this?" he added, voice dropped to a hushed murmur as his hand moved to tilt your chin upward. Before you could respond, his lips found yours. The kiss was slow, purposeful, and impossible to do anything but melt into. His hands moved back to cradle your face, fingers brushing against your jaw and the sensitive curve of your neck, their touch igniting a fire that spread through your entire body.

When he finally pulled away, you felt like all the air had been vacuumed from your lungs, cheeks flushed and heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could here it.

"Yeah, um," you stammered, the words tumbling out awkwardly as you struggled to regain your footing, "I don't think I mind... you could, uh, do it again if you wanted to."

Spencer's lips quirked into a slow, satisfied smile, his eyes sparkling. "Oh, is that so?"

He leaned in once more, capturing your lips in another kiss. This time, it was slower, unhurried, as if he were savoring every second. 

He leaned in to kiss you again, this time slower, savoring the moment.

When he pulled back, hands still cradling your face, he chuckled softly. "You know lucky for you, if my hands are your favorite thing about me, I've got two of them and all the time in the world."

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[writtenbymoonflower]

hii!! i hope this is where requests go! but i was wondering if you could do either a remus x reader or poly x reader- (would rather poly but idk what you prefer) where they’ve been getting bruises from somewhere, but they don’t rlly notice it until it’s like finger prints somewhere, it could be like an ex harassing them or something? something along those lines of them being protective and hurt/comfort <33

hi sweetness! sorry it took so long! poly!marauders x gn!reader

cw: mentions of physical abuse from coworker. post-trauma stress, swearing

1.1k words

You had been growing increasingly skittish. Before these series of incidents, your boyfriends had been able to touch you whenever and wherever with little reaction. (with the exception of pleasant shivers). Sirius seemed to always have his hands in your back pockets, James had a habit of coming up behind you and nuzzling into your neck, and Remus, though not very tactile, would brush his hands appreciatively over your hips and waist. But in the past few weeks, your boys had been pulling back. And you knew the reason, you knew it was your fault. 

It had started with slight flinches. When Sirius gripped your shoulder affectionately and you jumped, eyes wide with fear. At any other time, the press of his fingertips would be pleasant. But when he squeezed the broken skin- broken skin he had no knowledge of -you winced and whimpered in pain. He immediately pulled his hand back, concern notched between his dark brows, and you immediately began reassuring and apologizing. You told him that you were just tense, that his touch was unexpected but not unwelcome, but he had still been careful since then. After a string of similar circumstances with James and Remus, they had all been handing you with kid gloves. 

Your behavior had changed as well. You had swapped your normal tank tops and tees for crew neck hoodies and sweaters, long sleeves to cover the purple and green spots littering your arms. Your face had been permanently tense in an attempt to stifle grimaces from rising up. You were sore, mentally exhausted, chronically anxious, and your boyfriends could tell. You had been constantly reassuring them of you being fine, but you could see their suspicion growing with every attempt. You could feel the tension thick in the air, attempting to rear its ugly head. 

Despite every attempt to seem normal, you still flinched when James touched your back, trying to pass behind you. 

“Right behind you, lovely” instead the usual comfort James’ voice carried, it put you on edge, making you inhale sharply, tensing your whole body. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled, shaking your head and squeezing your eyes shut, urging the panic to leave your body. Only when your breathing slowed down did you realize the crippling silence that had taken over the room. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, sweet thing?” Sirius probed, unusually careful. He was eyeing you suspiciously over his laptop screen. You quickly fixed your face, grateful for the distance the bar island put between you and your investigating boyfriend. 

“Yup. I’m all good, just startled me ‘s all.” You went back to chopping the vegetables in front of you with slightly too much vigor. The boys were still silent. You quickly changed the subject. “Remmy, can you grab the turkey from the fridge for me, please?” 

“Sure, dovey.” He walked behind you to get to the icebox. You made sure not to shudder as he made his way. He stopped, looking over your shoulder. Every nerve was standing to attention.

“You okay, honey?” You did everything to keep your voice from coming out strained. 

“I’m okay.” Remus sounded slightly confused. “Here, sweetheart. Your sleeves are going to get in the way.” He reached over to roll your sleeves up. A sweet gesture at its core, but you still froze in panic. He pulled them all the way up to your elbows. You just stared at the cutting board, wincing when James hissed, quickly making his way over to inspect further. Sirius took his computer glasses off, nearly catapulting himself over the bar. 

“Fuck, baby. What happened to you?” Sirius went straight to the issue. He grabbed your wrist, tilting your stained flesh towards the light. There were small, round splotches on the delicate skin of your wrist. Before you could find an excuse, Remus took your wrist. When he held your arm, his fingers fitting almost perfectly into the marks, he inhaled deeply.

“Who the fuck did this.” Remus bit out. James reached over to place a hand on his shoulder and Sirius gave him a pleading look, but nothing was going to calm him. Usually it would be Remus calming Sirius down, but when Remus’ fierce protectiveness comes out, nothing can pull it back in. In these cases, Sirius acts as the calmer one. 

“Rem, it’s ok-” You started.

“It’s not fucking okay! Someone put their goddamn hands on you and I need to know who did it.” Despite his voice growing in volume, he was still handling you ever so gently. James still moved between you and Remus, suspecting that Remus’ extremely visible stress would only put you more on edge. 

“Sweetheart,” James started, keeping his voice calm, even as it wobbled with worry. “Is this why you’ve been so tense lately?” Before another denial could form on your tongue, James continued. “Please, lovely. You can tell us. We won’t be mad, we just want to help you.” His dark eyes were searching your face, looking for any shred of emotion to cling to. 

Everything just felt so raw. You knew you were being ganged up on, drowned with affection and it was all too much. You pressed your lips together to keep them from wobbling but it was no use. Your eyes filled with hot tears and sobs started to wrack your body. Weeks of pent-up hurt came spilling out. 

“I just-” You struggled to get the words out between too-fast breaths. The boys caged you in, but for the first time in weeks, you felt comforted rather than clutched. 

“Take your time, baby. It’s okay. We’re not going to leave you.” Sirius smoothed your hair out of your damp face. 

“T-they hired someone at work. I-I used to know them.” You struggled. Pausing to suck in small bits of air. You could see questions spinning in their heads, but they didn’t interrupt. “I guess I make them mad. I’ve always made them mad. I don’t mean to, but I just d- do.” 

“Nothing.” Remus’ voice was sharp, but terribly kind. “Nothing you could do would make this okay. This is not your fault. Never has been, never was. No matter how upset they are, they don't get to hurt you.” You kept shaking, hot tears dripping off of your jaw. 

“I-” You struggled. “I’ve been so scared.” When you said this, Sirius caged you in his arms. You knew this struck a nerve with him too. 

“I know, baby. I know. I’m so so sorry you’ve been dealing with this yourself. It must have been so hard. But we’ve got you now. You’re going to be okay.” You couldn’t get words out anymore, but it was okay. They would stay with you until you could. 

“We aren’t going to let them do this to you anymore, you hear me?” James pulled your face out of Sirius’ neck to make you look at him. “We’re going to fix this.” 

[despressoslatte]

not the zoey you wanted (four)

pairing: zach maclaren x female reader!

summary: you waited all weekend for your boyfriend, Zach, to call or text, anything, to explain why he had just went and ghosted you when you were supposed to go with him on a family ski trip to meet his parents, his sister Avery, and his cousin, Miles.

content warnings: angst; victims of catfishing; miscommunication trope

a/n: a big big BIG thank you to everyone who has been enjoying this fic! I love seeing everyone’s comments and inbox messages dissecting the story and making predictions! I wrote for OBX back in 2020 when the show first came out under a different blog (in case anyone here remembers a blog called jjmaybankx, HI! Though that’s just a generic username, it might be hard to remember that specific iteration ahaha), but i had just created this blog the same day i put out this fic… and i am in awe of how well received and how much you guys are actually invested in this little world i have conjured up whilst dreaming of bf!drew. I am very honored <3

Masterlist | < part three | add yourself to the taglist

ᯓ⟢

How you were supposed to just get up and go to your afternoon classes after what had just happened was beyond you, but you had an important peer workshop in one of your writing courses and then straight to the tutoring center for you. 

Day one was hard, as you navigated the complexities of whatever the hell had just happened. You were angry: angry at the car for hitting Zach, angry that he had even for a second thought that Zoey Miller had been you, angry that she let him think that knowing it was wrong, angry that she did any of what she did at all. And most of all, angry that you were even angry with Zach for it.

Tuesday rolled around and you had to go to the class you had with Zoey Miller, with anger seething in your veins but the inability to cause a scene. You hadn’t told anyone, not even your roommate Bree, what had happened. You felt like if you made a big deal and spoke about it, then you would likely never get over it. 

You felt her eyes on you as you typed your notes during the lecture, having sat a few rows and seats to the left in front of you. Could she like… not? Face forward and pay attention to the class, stop staring at the girl whose boyfriend you tried to steal after trying to steal his cousin, thanks. 

Your next shift at the tutoring center was on Wednesday. Instead of having assigned tutees for the day, you had a five hour shift in the tutoring center where you mainly did your own homework, helped student athletes figure out why the printers wanted to act up and not print their assignments, and help the few random people who would come up to the reception desk to ask you for help on a writing assignment or to proofread their essays.

You paused as you set your coffee up and laptop down on the desk, looking across the tutoring center to see Zach hunched over his own computer in one of the middle tables, typing away. He was one of the few athletes who wasn’t assigned to mandatory study hall hours after he had gotten his grade up, thanks to your one-on-one tutoring sessions and then, once his girlfriend, study dates together in his dorm or yours. He normally wouldn’t be caught dead in the tutoring center if he wasn’t required to be there, preferring to do his homework on his own anyways.

But there he was, regardless. 

A week passed and Zach didn’t try to talk to you at all, just like you had asked. You also never saw him walking around with Zoey Miller, a recurring minor nightmare you kept on having. Thank God, you thought every time you’d see one of them around campus without the other. Zoey Miller came to class looking miserable every time, and each time you worked a shift at the tutoring center, whether it be study hall monitoring or a few hours of one-on-one tutoring, Zach was there, during his homework by himself at one of the tables. 

“Hey.”

You looked up from the book you were engrossed in, taking off one airpods to see Zach in front of you, his laptop in his arms.

“Zach…” you sighed softly.

“I’m not here to bother you, I swear,” he reassured you, sliding his laptop to face you. “I just… actually need your help with this one, promise.”

You looked down at his screen to see an essay typed out. You glance up at him again.

“It’s a big part of my grade, so I was wondering if you could proofread it,” he said sheepishly, putting his hands in his pockets.

You exhale and nod, motioning with your head to the seat next to yours. A smile beamed across his face, and he rounded the desk to sit down next to you, both of you half facing each other as he watched you go over his essay in suggesting mode, making comments and edit recommendations. 

“I like the color you painted your nails,” he said softly.

“Zach,” you warned.

He shut up.

You got to page five of the essay, having only had to make a few small grammatical suggestions, a small smile building on your face for how well written the essay had been. When he wanted to apply himself, and knew how to, Zach would always be extremely smart. Sometimes, when it came to subjects he didn’t quite care for, he just didn’t care to put in the effort. But he was very smart, he had to be a student athlete. 

Plus, you knew he had little moments of crises when he thought about his future. He didn’t think he’d make it pro, but he also wasn’t passionate for other things the way he was for soccer. He felt aimless sometimes. The ironic part of it all was that he chose English Literature as his major, the classes he struggled with the most and hence how you two met.

You had given him the idea before that if he really didn’t think he could go pro, he could keep playing soccer or being involved with it through coaching at high schools or even middle schools. But you also always told him that you thought he had it in him to go pro. He was the school’s soccer star, you weren’t sure why he always sold himself short.

“You okay?” his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You had been stuck on page five for longer than it would have taken to read the page over twice, Zach just sitting there in anticipation of what you thought he needed to fix before he looked over at your face and noticed you were zoned out.

“Yeah, yeah,” you shook yourself out of it, continuing to scroll down through his essay.

Another excruciating fifteen minutes until you were finished reading over every line intricately and leaving any commentary needed, you slid the laptop back closer to Zach.

“Just those edits, and it’s all good,” you told him, trying to avoid looking at him.

He tapped the desk, nodding. “Thanks,” he said, and you pursed your lips and nodded.

You bit your lip to try and prevent yourself from asking the question that has been hot on your mind, but the words vomit out before you can stop it, “How come you’ve been doing your homework here?”

You finally look into his striking blue eyes, seeing them widen before his cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

“It’s the student athlete tutoring center,” he pointed out, then pointed at himself. “Student athlete.”

You titled your head to the side, giving him “the look” as you said, “Zach…”

“Fine, fine,” he sighed with a small laugh, closing his laptop closed. “It’s the only time I ever get to see you, okay?”

You had an inkling feeling that was it, and you just nod in response.

“I can stop if seeing me bothers you,” he whispered.

“Seeing you would never bother me,” you said back.

The hopeful smile that erupted on his face made your heart sting.

The moment you two were having was interrupted when another student athlete walked up, asking for help since the printers weren’t working. You offered Zach a small smile, and he gave you a wave, before you got up to go to the opposite side of the tutoring center to figure out the printer.

ᯓ⟢

On your way to class the next day, you paused in front of the class you had with Zoey to see she was standing a little bit to the side of the pathway talking to Zach. You slowed your steps down a bit as you stared at them. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell from the back of his head, jacket, and backpack that it was him.

That same guilty look was on Zoey’s face, and she was shaking her head. 

You could tell from Zach’s body language that he was upset, the way his shoulders lifted and his arms moved about as he talked, the way he did when he was trying to drive a point. 

You didn’t feel like watching them talk, putting your head down and heading into the building to go to class.

ᯓ⟢

“So, she broke up with you?” Zoey asked as she stood there staring up at Zach. She had asked him if they could talk when she saw him walking by on her way to class, and with an irritated huff, he agreed.

“She did not break up with me,” Zach said back sternly, shoving his hands into his pocket, kicking a rock on the floor. “She is just taking time to… process… what happened between you and I on the ski trip…”

“I didn’t mean for any of that stuff to happen… I—”

“I don’t really care what you meant to have happened,” Zach said back with a shrug. “You knew you weren’t my girlfriend, pretended to be anyways, and now she won’t talk to me.”

“Well, I don’t get why she’s upset with you when I’m to blame,” Zoey quipped back, earning a look from Zach.

“Don’t,” he shook his head at her. “Don’t try to make her out to be the bad guy here.”

“I’m not,” Zoey shook her head. “I’m just saying—”

“I don’t care what you’re saying, Zoey…” he sighed. He wiped his face with the palm of his hands and huffed frustratedly. “Look. It’s just a lot for her. First, she thought I ghosted her all weekend. Then, it looks to her like I had cheated on her, and then when she found out the truth, she hears that I was starting to feel things for you, and—”

“You were starting to feel things for me?”

He gave her an irritated glare when that was all she had heard from that.

“I love Y/N, okay?” he said to her sternly, using his hands to point to himself and then off to the side for emphasis. “Not you, not anyone else, just Y/N. Whatever fake relationship you and I had when I didn’t have my memories, that’s all it was, fake. You are not the Zoey I wanted.”

Zach looked away from her, and that was when he saw the back of your head, face pointed to the floor, as you sped-walked away into the building. He couldn’t tell if you had seen him and Zoey talking, but from the way you were walking so damn fast, maybe. Damn it. 

He turned back to Zoey, who had tears in her eyes. And he felt bad, because he didn’t enjoy making girls cry.

“Just…” for the umpteenth time, he sighed. “Just stay away from me and my girlfriend, I’m begging you.”

ᯓ⟢

part five>

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[irisinluv]

Yandere Stardew Valley- Sebastian

I've been playing some Yandere Stardew mods recently. While I love them..... I feel like they do my husband (Sebastian) wrong. The citizens of Pelican Town are telling me that they can't hang out with me because Sebstian threatened them. That they've noticed some weird behavior. That he's physically violent. I disagree with all of these for Sebby.

He's our hot programmer boyfriend who lives in his basement bedroom, and only emerges to enjoy a smoke break, or to go see his friends. Now, while again, I do enjoy playing the mods...... I think his cannon behavior sets him up to be the perfect chronically online yandere. Pelican Town isn't exactly the most connected (6 out of the 11 rivals have access to a computer), but there's still potential. Obviously they're gonners if they have a computer. Sam finds himself doxed after making a comment about the gifts you gave him this week, and poor Haley's socials are blowing up with hate comments- from her personal insta to her photography blog.

But what about the other 5? The ones who are more disconnected? Well. It's easy enough to get Shane fired from joja. A little email to Morris from "HQ" saying he either fires Shane or his own pay gets docked..... well. Suddenly, everyone's favorite alcoholic doesn't even have a job anymore. Elliott suddenly has all these taxes he hasn't paid on his little shack..... beachfront properties cost a lot, you know. The parents stop letting Penny watch their kids after some..... explicit photos get leaked. It doesn't matter that they're edited. These people don't know about Photoshop. All they know is apparently Penny's making ends meet to support her mother..... and there's a new favorite subject to gossip on between all the older women. The other rivals are equally taken care of. All you need to focus on now is how Sebastian is the only reliable option in the whole damn town.

And he knows you so well, doesn't he? You, who lived away from it all until now. You, who WAS connected to the internet. Who had their entire life detailed through Facebook updates and Instagram posts. Honestly, Sebastian thinks that maybe he DOESN'T need to leave Pelican town... looking at the life you lived before coming to the valley, he thinks its much easier to keep you safe when he can control everything that goes on. There were too many factors to your old life. Too many parties to go to, coworkers to talk to, ex-boyfriends/girlfriends worry about. No. Sebastian thinks that city life isn't fit for the two of you to start you life together.

While he enjoyed seeing the trip down memory lane of who you were before becoming the farmer, and learning more about your likes and dislikes, he much prefers this version of you. The version of you who he found bouncing on their toes outside his door, excitedly shoving a frozen tear at him. Who eventually became the only person he was genuinely excited to have come barging into his room unannounced. And the thought of moving into the farm with you was all together far too tempting. He can picture it already. He'd set up a little area to work on his bike, he'd help out around the farm for you (he saw your hands covered in scrapes and splinters one day, and you sheepishly told him your fences had started wearing down.... but fixing a fence was another first for you. So you ended up scraping yourself up a bit on the old wood. Now, Sebastain, who, while he doesn't enjoy it, grew up with a carpenter mother..... well. He's going to make sure you never have that many splinters again.) Oh and he can already imagine it. The two of you, far away from the rest of the town, from prying eyes, no one to hear what you two would get up to as he helped you relax after a long day of working the feilds.....

This fantasy would sustain him until you eventually asked him to marry you. I don't think he would rush anything. To you, and the rest of the citizens, he was just normal Sebastian. Showing up for band practice, playing pool at the bar (although he seemed to play much better when a certain farmer came to watch). He just realized that the best way to control all the factors in town would be to remain anonymous. Avoid suspicion. After all. In a small town like that, it would be all too easy to turn against him if he decided to publicly threaten someone. And how would you react if you came to drop off some fresh sashimi to your boyfriend, only to find him being dragged out of his house by Clint, with Marlon standing nearby, ready to ship him off to face justice in the adventurers guild? No. That wouldn't do. He can't add any more stress to you like that. He'd remain the puppeteer, pulling the strings of the valley.

This isn't to say Sebastian never stalks you in person or anything like that. He can't help himself. He's a night owl. He knows the villagers schedules, has since before you even came to town. So, he knows he can get away with digging in the trash to find the straw you threw away at the bar. And if someone does hear him.... well. Linus is going to be everyone's first thought. He does, however, start adopting a stricter routine as far as monitoring your house after you mention how you sell your produce.

Sebastian was rightfully horrified when you explained that Mayor Lewis comes by your farm at night to collect anything you wish to sell. How it's such a relief to be able to just chuck things in the the bin as you're rushing to bed at 1:50 in the morning, only to get up first thing and start your day again, and not have to worry about lugging all your goods to the store. Sebastian won't criticize you for the lack of sleep..... no. That's not what's worrying. What's worrying is that this old man who has a gold statue of himself and who gets it on in the bushes with his secret girlfriend (of course Sebastian knows about that) is showing up to your house sometime after 2 am. His mind flashes back to his fantasy of the two of you, completely alone on the farm.... and then is mortified as this fantasy morphs into a nightmare where he looks up from bed with you, and sees Lewis' wrinkled face peering through the window. Yea. No. Sebastain installs some hidden cameras to make sure Lewis doesn't get up to anything funny while you're defenseless, asleep, alone..... ok he might need to get a new mayor elected. The old man might just have to go. Perhaps to a home outside the town. Regardless, he makes sure Lewis stops coming by as frequently. Frustratingly, he isn't able to completely stop it, but that'll be an easy fix once the two of you are married. He'll act surprised, "wow Lewis, that's so kind of you to help out the farmer all this time. But hey, don't worry, I'll take over. I'm up late anyways, and it's the least I can do!" But Sebastian still wakes up in a cold sweat and frantically rushes to check the cameras, making sure you're OK. That Lewis really is just checking the shipping bin.

Once y'all get married, he shows a bit more of that possessive side to you. But you chalk it up to just bedroom spicy time, and honestly find his hand tightening on your waist as Elliot asks you to read his latest poem hot.

Just. Yandere Sebastian brain rot.

[local-new-kid-super]

Wendy and fem new kid bonding over girl things? The new kid actually enjoys being able to “let their hair down” around them so to speak

Sorry this took so long, I got off a south park kick and then HARDCORE back into one recently because FBW is on gamepass. Thanks for the request!

Platonic!Call-girl/Wendy x New-girl!Reader

☆ Wendy is thrilled to have another girl in town who gets her. It's not that she isn't close with Bebe, I mean, they are both instrumental in making lists on the committee, but after Bebe pulled that gun on her, Wendy worries she's a little bit of a loose cannon. Between her on and off relationship with Stan and dealing with Eric in school, this poor girl needs some stable classmates.

☆ She loves having you over to work on school work, she's class president and prides herself on being smart. Being the new kid can't be easy, and doing work to catch up to everyone in class is much harder given Mr. Garrison doesn't seem like he cares to teach. Expect lots of study hangouts, where she helps you with some class work and the two of you just chat.

☆ Wendy always asks for your input for the girls' committee lists. You might be new, but that doesn't mean you need can't have an opinion. She's also going to go over the old lists to make sure you understand the people in South Park. "Listen up, new Kid!" She exclaims. "That list was rigged, that's the old cutest boy list... there was a whole- a whole thing." She shakes her head. "All that to say Clyde isn't the cutest. Here, check this one-"

☆ Makeovers! For all her skills and talents, Wendy has been shown to be against things she thinks perpetuate beauty standards. Personally, she doesn't feel like makeup is good or bad really, but she has other stuff to worry about. She's the class president. Luckily; she has you, New kid! She's happy to let you apply some purple glitter or maybe a fun gloss on her face, just don't expect her to wear it everyday. She claims she "-Doesn't want to look like a clown hooker for her English presentation". If you teach her how to keep nail polish to the lines of her nails, she'd actually really like that. She'd roll into school with a nice purple or pink shade on her nails, shooting you a wave.

☆ If you're both superheroes, she's thrilled at the prospect of having another girl to fight with. Frankly, she hates that the freedom Pals stand for 'retribution with inclusion', but didn't even bother getting girl members. She Dislikes Raccoon and friends for more obvious reasons. She'll help you to learn hacking just like her, or if you prefer a more hands on fighting style, she'll be your guy, or gal, in the chair, surveying the security cams and radioing in all relevant data from a nearby rooftop while you complete a mission. She doesn't like the idea of sidekicks, you're a team. Two girls lifting each other up, while making super-boys cry. Plus; she's secretly been manipulating your follower count on Raccoonstagram to make it much larger than it would be normally. Your new, and shes felt alone before. Call-girl sees now reason that you should be any less popular out of costume than in.

☆ "Just hacked into the Raccoon and Friends, um, computer..." she mumbles, thinking back to the Toshiba handi-book that's taped to a cardboard box. "Anyways, looks like they've got a lead on some petty crime from the post office warehouse. Package thief." She chuckles. "Wanna bet we can handle it in half the time?"

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Digital Circus with a Mime Reader, who CAN speak but prefers to use sign language and gestures: they find find Kaufmo in the middle of abstracting and try to calm him down (against their better judgement). It doesn't go well, ending with them locking and closing Kaufmo's door, and running to find Caine... Only to hear the theme song suddenly stop and Jax say something about a "new character" as they approach...

Ough finally some Kaufmo angst-

........

Approaching Kaufmo's door, you stopped in front of it and politely knocked, wanting to check up on him before Caine could summon everybody to perform the Digital Circus' "theme song" musical number.

As of late, your fellow clown hasn't been feeling up to snuff, since apparently nobody was laughing at his jokes anymore...

Although said jokes have all mentioned something about an exit--a way out of the digital realm you've grown quite comfortable living in. But even when he is dead serious, the others are convinced he's only kidding around, pretending to laugh and sometimes asking him if he could joke about something else.

Least to say...it grew frustrating for him.

The only reason he hadn't totally lost it yet was because of you, a mime who has lived in the circus for the past five months and befriended him quickly. Together you've put on many acts: with his wacky props and your invisible techniques, your shows were amusing to all.

That being said, you didn't want your longtime partner to think about any exits too much, as you've lost several friends in the past when they started talking about the same thing.

It happened to Queener, Kinger's beloved wife, and the poor chess piece has been on the brink of abstraction ever since (honestly, it's a miracle he didn't immediately follow her).

Fortunately, he remained stable enough to be around everyone.

As for Kaufmo?

He didn't look so good last night at dinner, and you haven't seen him all morning. Normally he'd be up and about, juggling random things as he walked or approaching you to brainstorm new acts to perform.

Him locking himself away in his room was not normal.

Especially when he knew this musical number was super important to Caine.

After waiting a minute or two, you perked up as he finally answered the door.

At first you smiled in greeting, although that was quick to fade when he only kept it open just a crack--enough for you to barely see his face...

Which bore a terrified expression underneath his runny makeup, making his frown look worse than it actually is. His hat was nowhere to be found, either.

''Are you okay, Kaufmo?" You signed, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

That was your usual way of talking, despite knowing you could very well speak freely. You had no clue if you were proficient in sign language before entering this circus, but regardless it always came in handy, and everybody did their best to communicate with you that way (or at least those with fingers, unlike Zooble or Gangle).

Since your performances usually involved silence and expressive gestures, you didn't see a need to talk often--and that was usually fine with Kaufmo, who'd always chatter with you in sign language right back.

But when he attempted to respond, you swore you both saw his own hands glitching, before he quickly retracted them, clearly frightened.

You, on the other hand, wanted to believe it was just a "digital hallucination".

That's all it was...right?

"I-I'm sorry, [y/n]..haven't been..feeling like myself-f-f lately.." Even his own voice was betraying him, as it sounded distorted, lagging as though he was a slow computer program. "But you believe me, don't you?"

"Believe what?"

"The...the exit, of course! The thing I've been talking about this whole time!! It's real! There IS a way out!! I-I can show you!!"

You blinked, before shaking your head. "Kaufmo, let me in."

"Oh no, I think that's a bad id--wait! Wait!!" Despite his pleas for you to stop, you forced your way into his room, shutting the door behind you so nobody else could intrude or eavesdrop.

The last thing you needed was Caine listening in.

Yet after taking a look around at the state of his quarters--with everything being a complete mess and the word "EXIT" scrawled onto every square inch of the ceiling and walls--you were nothing short of terrified for his mental well-being.

'My god....what has he done..?' You thought to yourself, mortified.

"No, no, no, no!!"

Looking back at Kaufmo, you saw him back up against the wall, holding his face as black glitchy polygons started appearing on his body. He gasped in horror, looking at his hands...and then up at you.

"What's..h-happening to me-e-e?"

Your heart sunk, knowing exactly what was going on.

"You're abstracting.." You whispered, your voice small yet shaken.

"I-I didn't...think I'd be next...it hurts so much! Christ-!!!" He began crying, his makeup oozing as he stared at you with empty, soulless black eyes. One of his arms was already taken over by the glitches, morphing into a large one covered in jagged polygons.

"Make it stop..MAKE IT STOP!!!" He screamed, slumping to the floor.

You were frozen in a state of panic, unsure if you should go get Caine or stay here and try to pull him out of his abstraction.

Either way, you had to do something fast...lest you lose him forever or become infected yourself.

"Just focus on me, pal. I'm here. I'm here." Kneeling down, you grasped his non-glitching hand tightly with both of yours, attempting to guide him through a breathing exercise.

"You'll get through this." You mouthed, but he just shook his head, noticing a single glowing eye forming on the surface of the glitchy flesh.

"Wh-Whatever you do...don't tell Caine, I beg you-u.." He pleaded. "He'll lock me away...a-and I'll be all alone in the dark..I don't wanna be alone.."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head, and he gazed at you in confusion. "What do you mean "no"? You'd let him throw me into the cellar with the rest of them...?" He started to grow angrier, feeling betrayed. "I thought we were partners!"

"We are partners, Kaufmo. Always will be." You sighed, wishing there was another way to stop this from happening. "But there's nothing more I can do...he needs to know-"

"Fine...maybe things will be better if I'm not around to tell my stupid jokes anymore."

"Kaufmo-"

"Go....run, [y/n]...run-n-n-nnNNNN------"

Immediately after he said that, you let him go right as his other hand quickly became overtaken by the abstraction, almost taking you with it.

You got up and took a step backwards, watching in mute terror as he rapidly grew in size, turning into a massive amalgamation of glitch black polygons. Even more glowy-trippy eyes were popping up in different places, looking in every direction.

Within seconds, Kaufmo no longer resembled the clown you once knew (or a person, in general)....but was instead replaced by a horrific digital beast with a long neck, standing on four legs.

You gulped as every single eye on his body suddenly shifted to stare directly down at you.

'Uh-oh-'

You hastily created an invisible wall just as he lunged at you with a ferocious roar, slamming right into the illusion like a bird smacking into a glass pane.

'He still falls for the oldest trick in the book..oh Kaufmo..'

Although it pained your heart to abandon him like this, he was too far gone to be saved. He didn't even recognize you anymore.

The only thing you could do now was get Caine before he harmed you or anybody else--even if it means you never saw him again. He could very well threaten the entire stability of this world if he got loose.

You quickly ran out of the room just before he could break through the "wall" and go after you, slamming the door shut and locking it tight.

Moments later, you heard him ram into it, the hinges damn near breaking off (but by the grace of cartoon physics, that didn't happen).

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, making a mad dash out of the dormitory section of the tent in a desperate search for Caine.

Unfortunately, you could already hear Bubble's singing in the distance as the gang's musical number routine was already starting:

"Gangle, and Zooble, and Kinger, too~!"

You ran as fast as your legs could possibly carry you. They were already aware of both of your absences, and they chose to go on with the song anyways.

'Jerks..they couldn't at least wait for me?' You huffed. 'Caine never tells us when we're doing these musical ditties-'

By the time you arrived, however, you heard the music abruptly cut out.

You stopped upon seeing your friends tumbled over each other on the floor, with Gangle's comedy mask being broken and Jax picking himself up in annoyance.

"Caine, is this one of your NPCs or is this a new sucker?"

Blinking, you glanced at the new person he was referring to, surprised to see a girl dressed as a red and blue jester.

"........."

Now you couldn't say anything to Caine.

Not right now, at least.

[kelseytheballerina]

woa kelsey what happened

2pretty -> kelseytheballerina, as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now. I’ve been over the 2pretty name for a while now and just ready for something that feels more ‘me’.

my YouTube channel name will match this one now too, so angelkels -> kelseytheballerina

I want to get a refresh on this blog so I’m going to private everything while I go through it all and make them public again as I decide what I want to keep. This account has been feeling pretty stale to me for a minute. Like we can do better than this!

I’ve decided to close down my patreon as well. As much as I sincerely appreciate everyone who has supported me there (like wow that’s so kind of you all???), I just don’t use it often enough and I dont feel comfortable charging you lovely people for something I barely log in to. I really do prefer having all of my content here as a one stop shop where everyone can view and enjoy it as normal, no payment required :) Again, I am so grateful to all of you who flocked to the patreon and supported me but I think it’s just not what I’m into right now. Your generosity has meant a lot to me and I hope no one is upset by my decision. I'm still doing pen pals though ♡

I had 27 (yes, TWENTY-SEVEN) videos made and ready to go but I accidentally lost them ALL. Hours and hours worth of content…gone. Just like that. When I tell you that I was in a depressed rage for the past 2 weeks…it doesn’t even begin to cover it. Like who wants to redo all that work? My maternity leave for ballet is ending so I was taking the time to batch film and now it’s just like…that was a waste of time. I couldn’t even open my computer for a while bc I was so upset. You don't understand, I've never felt this defeated before omg. I finally mustered up the morale to re-record but I kept leaving out shots, forgetting things I wanted to say, it just wasn’t as good as the original and that was sooo upsetting. Anyway I can’t stay upset about it forever so I have to force myself to get over it and just start remaking them as best as I can. Just know that even though I’m moving forward, inside I am the physical manifestation of gritted teeth, white knuckles and veins popping out 🙃. Did I buy a new external hard drive? Yes ma’am I did, with a swiftness!!

[and-so-he-rambled]

Gotham Rogue Vlad Masters Part three - The Library

Master list | Part 1 | Part 4

The sun didn’t really shine in Gotham, but the kids soaked up the meager bit peeking through the clouds. Vlad had a child on each side, hands held tightly as they walked. Vlad had memorized the maps as much as he could, having never found the place he was looking for on foot before. It was much easier to fly, but the kids needed the exercise and the practice to blend in.

Jazz was doing wonderfully, expression guarded and dangerous. He’d insisted she left the thievery to him, but he watched her slide a wallet into her pocket after brushing against a passing stranger. It made a twisted part of him proud.

Daniel on the other hard was doing terribly, unable to hide his joy and waving at everyone they passed by. He stood out, tugging on Vlad’s hand and trying to run off at every pigeon and rat he saw scurrying by. Vlad tried to squeeze his hand in warning, but Daniel just squeezed it back and let out a happy chirp. His breath was coming out misty even in the mild weather, making Vlad second guess himself on bringing him out. Daniel was still developing and had lots of ghost mishaps, but he was getting fed up with being cooped up all the time. Vlad had a feeling that if he didn’t bring Daniel outside already he would have just phased through the wall and gone on his own adventure.

The finally reached the library, a grand and towering old building. He held the kids hands tightly as they walked inside, bypassing the help desk and trying to seem like they belonged there. He mapped out the exits and cameras sparsely places along the ceilings. There would definitely be eyes on the computer area, but shouldn’t be as many in the children’s section. He hated the kids being on camera at all, but with Daniel’s thick winter hat and a scarf covering Jas’s lower face he hoped they would be safe. He knew the picture around Danny and Jazz would likely be fuzzy since they didn’t know how to repress their abilities like he did. Hopefully no one would look close enough to notice. He concentrated his aura around his face to keep his blurry as well, but just a little.

He squatted down to eye level with the kids once they were mostly out of view.

“Jazz, watch Daniel.” He hated to put all the responsibility on her shoulders, but they both knew the boy would run off. “Get a book for yourself too, we can sneak out a few when he leave. We’ll bring them back once we read them.” He assured Danny with the last part, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Can I read about the stars?” Danny asked with wide eyes, green swirling in blue.

“Sure thing, Daniel.”

“Danny!” The raven haired boy stomped his foot, pouting something fierce. He was rather insistent on the nickname. Vlad preferred Daniel, but he would relent to let the child have some normality in his life with all the big changes.

“Ah, yes. Danny.” He sent the two off, trusting Jazz to keep them both safe as he found the computers.

The more he learned about Gotham the stranger it became. He knew crime ran rampant in the city, but this was beyond what he’d imagined. He could use this to his advantage.

He still had less than reputable contacts from when he’d just started committing crimes to start up his own company, and it’s wouldn’t be hard to get back into old habits. He would need to keep Plasmius a secret though, too noticeable as a ghost. He couldn’t rock the GIW sniffing around, so he had to do this the old fashioned way. He’s still use his powers of course, but subtly. It wasn’t as if metas didn’t exist, even if the bat didn’t want them in his city.

He was researching the art scene of Gotham when his pocket buzzed, the rudimentary device in his pocket getting an sos from Jazz.

He stood, trying to keep himself from panicking as he searched for his charges. He could feel them in the building still, his core latching on to the echo of Daniel’s core and Jazz’s ectoplasm.

He rounded a corner, shoulders sagging in relief once he saw both kids unharmed. They were in what seemed to be the children’s reading nook, with cartoon animals painted on the walls and beanbags instead of chairs.

Daniel was in a lady’s lap, a book open as he pointed and explained what stars were to her. The woman was in a wheelchair, eyebrows raised a confused smile on her face. She was a redhead, a much fiercer red than Maddie and Jazz’s orange.

“Dad!” Jazz yelled loudly as he approached, making his core burn hot in his chest. He managed to keep his stride unbroken, hiding his flinch with a smile.

“Jasmine! Find anything good to read?” He greeted her cheerily, letting her grab his hand. She squeezed out an sos, smile strained. Her eyes were pure ice as she stared down the lady holding her brother, not an ounce of trust.

“Not much, Danny was just telling Ms. Barbara all about space.” Jazz’s eyes were pleading as they turned to him, palm sweaty and shaking against his.

“I’m so sorry about him.” Vlad apologized, slipping into fake cheer like a second skin. The galas he’d attended when his company was starting out had been full of people he had to lie to. It had been a big change from being a college geek with no social life, but Vlad Masters did nothing if not persist.

He plucked the boy from the lady’s lap, holding him tight as Danny whined and squirmed, bony limbs flailing.

“Vlaaaaad.” Danny whined, chirping angrily as Vlad stiffened. He was glad humans couldn’t hear ghost speak.

Jazz laughed awkwardly, elbowing Danny’s dangling leg.

“That speech impediment of yours, still can’t pronounce dad.” Her lie wasn’t as smooth as his, smile tight and a tad too sharp.

“Was just telling ‘er about stars and planets. I can’t read the words yet so I needed help.”

“Why couldn’t you ask your sister?”

Danny shook his head, black mop of hair falling in his eyes.

“She was reading her own book.”

Jazz looked at the floor in shame. A book way thicker than most six year olds could read was on the beanbag.

“I see. Well, say goodbye to the nice lady.” He gave Barbara a fake smile, tugging Jazz’s hand.

Ms. Barbara looked confused, holding up the book on stars Daniel had been showing her.

“Your books, would you like me to help you check them out?” She held out the big book of space Danny had been showing her, the boy beginning to squirm and reach for it. She wasn’t aware that they didn’t exist yet, and thus couldn’t check out books.

“We’ll come back another day!” He assured her, already walking out with the kids. Daniel was whining something fierce and Jazz looked miserable, not the outing he wanted.

He ducked into an alley and flew them back to the home base. They needed the exercise but Daniel was struggling he didn’t want to eyes on them, so flying back was easier.

Danny was crying, shaking as he tried to hold in a tantrum.

Jazz hadn’t met his eyes since they left the library.

“Jazz, dear. You alerted me in time. He didn’t say anything that could give us away, did he?” Vlad was pretty sure that, if it came to it to protect the kids, he would kill a bystander.

Jazz shook her head, teary blue eyes meeting his.

“No, just talked about space. I didn’t hear her until Danny was already in her lap! What if she took him! Stupid! Stupid!” The redhead slammed her fists against her head, chest heaving as tears escaped her tightly shut eyes and cascaded down her red cheeks.

Vlad grabbed her wrists, holding them still as she squirmed and fought him before collapsing into his arms in a fit of tears. He hadn’t seen her cry since her parents deaths, always only hearing it faintly at night.

Jazz sobbed in his arms, her tears spurning Danny to start sobbing as well. Vlad ached down to the core, gathering both kids in his arms and kneeling on the floor with them until his legs were numb. He felt his own eyes traitorously burn, perhaps from the sadness of his fraid effecting him, or just stress creeping up. He forced it away with hard blinks, he didn’t have time for that.

He really had no idea what he was doing, but he had to keep doing it because this was the only way to keep the kids safe. They couldn’t have normal lives, he had to remember that. They were monsters to the government, the kids wouldn’t be safe in the system with a good family, there were stuck with him.

They cried themselves out, both sagged against him and dozing with the occasional hiccup. It was easy to carry them both to bed, almost natural. He wondered if, in another life, he could have had a family of his own. It was for the best he hadn’t thought, that he’d been able to let go of his life to keep the kids safe. He barely found himself missing the castle he’d loved so much, so focused on the fact they were alive, mostly. He’d grieve it more later, the place in the world he’d made his own after years of hospitals and clawing his way up in life, but for now it was enough to be safe.

He tucked the kids in to the king bed they’d claimed, body aching in new ways as he dragged a chair over. He could keep a double for a while, but he didn’t trust a double to stand watch, so he prepared himself for another long night. He knew he needed sleep desperately, but he couldn’t risk it. Instead he sent a copy to the library to steal the books the kids had been reading along with a few books for himself.

He managed to read through a book on parenting traumatized children by light of ecto blast before the sun rose, hiding it in the wall with the other books he’d chosen so Jazz wouldn’t read them and try to be more grown up than she had to be. She’d taken on a parental role with Danny and he was forced to let her even though every book he read said it was bad for her development. He wanted her to be a kid, but he needed her help to keep Danny safe and out of trouble.

He was going to have to start stealing again soon, and that meant Jazz would have to step up even more to watch Danny while he was gone. He could go at night while they slept, but then they would be unguarded. It was quite the dilemma. But still, Vlad Masters persists. He’d once been a lab rat building new equipment on a diet of energy drinks and ramen, he could manage to make a security system to keep two kids safe.

He made a plan to go dump hunting, he could maybe bring the kids along if he scouted it out first. He would steal a proper laptop and fancy tech once he was better prepared, but they would make do with scraps right now.

[ochiody]

First of all i can't believe you're 16?? That's fucking insane, you're so talented.Second, would you ever consider making some sort of coloring tutorial?

oh my goodness thank you,, that means a lot hahah. insert chiikawa reaction image here i dont have them on my computer

secondly, sure! my process involves a lot of bullshitting and kinda intuition based stuff so idk how to explain it that well but i will try.

ok here is how i would render a colored ball + grayscale ver. i dont use value ? or darkness to create shading as much as color contrast. ex yellow is lighter than green which is lighter than blue/purple. this is shown in grayscale but since im using the colors to indicate value it shows up better in color (idk how to say it)

this is personal preference but i don’t use color palettes at all, because every setting will have a different kind of lighting or mood that i need to adjust for. so why even bother? i think im just really used to picking things out by eye, buti would not recommend this because stuff can get inconsistent really quick

i dont use blend modes for shadows anymore, but heres an example with multiply for how i do shading (left)

in my art i dont like the look of straight up darkening shades so i always go for a darker, more saturated shadow. i love bright colors so im always pushing for more saturation. enhancing existing color in a 'properly shaded' areas is a fun way to do this

for example in this wing, i make the shadows bright ass blue instead of grayish blue/tan. this is because i made the faint light source from the left yellowish, so the shadow will be blue in comparison. i just amped that way up lol

you can also see it in the yellow on the inside of the wing. the lighting is yellow, so i took the faint bits of yellow that wouldve been present if i shaded it normally and just made it way more saturated

hope this helps, feel free to ask questions because idk what im doing half the time. usually its just 'oh this would look cool lets keep it'

[homestuckreplay]

As somebody who’s nuerodivergent and has MDD (Major Depressive Disorder aka Clinical Depression), I find those points about John very interesting! Is there any other hints of this throughout the comic that we’ve seen?

hello!! sorry this took so long, I reread every John page so far and I now have a normal length answer to this question!! (2.9k words shhhh) I will broadly talk about neurodivergence first and then depression, but some of these points could apply to either or both.

I’m also neurodivergent, and I’ve had depression in the past, so this is based on my personal experiences + reading through the diagnostic criteria. if anyone else has different experiences I’d love to hear about it!

So my favorite academic article I’ve found this year is in a journal of disability studies by autistic writer David Preyde, and it’s just him listing all his special interests and how and why they became important to him. It reads like a blog post and I love that it was ‘officially’ published. It reminds me so much of how the Homestuck kids have been introduced, just more in depth.

John is hitting some common/stereotypical special interests, like computer programming and movie trivia, and some less common ones, like old comedians. I don’t think the fact of having interests makes John neurodivergent, but his approach to them might. John sees a Con Air reference and immediately starts explaining the plot of the movie (p.132); he also does recreations of Deep Impact (p.21), A Time to Kill (p.109) and Armageddon (p.223) He can list all the rare Gushers flavors (p.979). He thinks Colonel Sassacre will be able to tell him the ‘precise index of elevated hilarity’ of a joke (p.36). John treats things really methodically, he likes to list and sort and categorize. It’s why he likes programming computers but isn’t good at it – he knows it’s a great hobby for all that, but hasn’t quite mastered the rules yet.

This is also how he figured out punch card alchemy. Not only does he pick up a new skill much quicker when it relates to an existing special interest (stage magic), but he’s a super fast problem solver when the rules make sense and it works the same every time. He prefers familiarity, taking a while to adjust to changes, like taking time to warm up to the new MSPA adventure (p.112).

I would even argue that John’s sylladex could be a new special interest – it’s something he’s just found at the start of the comic (while his friends have all been into it for a while) and he’s deeply frustrated by the rules at first, when its behavior constantly changes due to different numbers of cards, lack of available cards, options to combine items, new modi, etc. But he still works at it for hours even though it’s hard, because it’s captivated him somehow. He picks up the language and techniques at a speed that’s only possible for someone very dedicated, and he’s super excited to get the control deck for his birthday, a very practical gift that other kids might be bored by. This is like the Homestuck equivalent of getting a backpack with a lot of pockets.

John is really proud of the computer wallpaper he made (p.25) and still gives his dad drawings to put on the fridge (p.253) – he’s very earnest about his interests. He also kind of has the fandom impulse to create his own canon that he likes better than the source material – upon seeing Harry Anderson: Wise Guy, he thinks that ‘Mike Caveney's glowing treatment of the man does him every bit of justice’ (p.253), but when he actually re-reads the book, Caveney’s ‘ambivalent attitude toward [John’s] favorite magician in these anecdotes always struck [him] as a little weird’. John is inventing Wise Guy fanfiction in his head which is incredible. It’s also an example of black and white thinking, and the quick switch from one extreme to the other in opinions without much room for nuance, that John often exhibits.

John also has a lot of specific object fixations, or comfort objects – the Con Air bunny has quickly become this. In the original movie the bunny is owned by a 7-year-old girl, while John presents as a 13-year-old boy, someone for who it’s far less socially acceptable to own a stuffed animal – but John isn’t concerned about that. The green slime ghost pogo ride is another object he returns to over and over – other people might see that as a dangerous knockoff piece of junk, but to John it carries a lot of meaning (p.105, 476). He’s always carrying things like a wizard’s hat (p.44) or shaving cream (p.488) in his sylladex that have no practical use, he just wants to have them.

John is really weird in social interactions, and often tries to avoid them altogether. The lengths John goes to to not run into his dad while exploring the house in the first 100 pages take more time and effort than actually talking to him, but John avoids him no matter the cost. On page 30 he’s also frustrated because Dave is texting him again, and John wants to be left in peace to look at his video games. Not play the games, just look at them. It’s very relatable to me to want to just enjoy my cool stuff even when not actively engaging in it, and to have a lot of ‘off time’ even from my close friends.

John responds to Rose’s genuine sentiments with ‘haha, oh jeez, that is silly!’ (p.256) and struggles with getting his dad to talk about his nanna’s death – on page 543 he considers asking her about it directly; I think some neurotypical people may see that as an unwritten social taboo. But John isn’t uncaring; he marks his friends’ birthdays on his calendar (p.999) and buys them all personalized gifts that they all end up loving, even if Rose interprets hers as a ‘subtle dig’ which John didn’t intend (p.442). John also says ‘ok, i guess i will take your word for it’ to Nanna (p.420) could come across as passive-aggressive, but John means it so genuinely.

John struggles to see beyond his own perspective, like when he’s surprised that it’s already dark in Rose’s house (p.174) despite knowing where she lives. He’s generally very preoccupied with his own concerns, but he eventually remembers to ask Rose ‘are you ok? hasn't your house been on fire for like... five hours now?’ He clearly cares about the people he’s close to, but doesn’t show it in the most obvious ways.

John is hilarious, but he doesn’t tell jokes in a standard format. He is straightforward in all social interactions, and doesn’t have the bantering instinct that Rose and Dave do. Some top tier examples of John humor: ‘it is understandable because you are really attractive. i am attracted to you... jk haha’ (p.35), ‘oh, btw... jk I was wearing a funny disguise this whole time. gotcha! hehehehe’ and Rose’s accompanying response of ‘I know, John.’ (p.63), and ‘yeah, more like the opposite of all those things is the thing that is true!’ (p.386). He clearly has the jokester’s spirit, but unusual execution.

John generally takes things at face value, thinking that Jade ‘seems like a pretty regular girl’ (p.652), and his dynamic with Dave is really fascinating. All their conversations read like Dave is doing a bit and John is taking him completely seriously, but Dave isn’t making fun of John, they’re both having a good time. So it’s not like when a so-called normal kid bullies a weird kid in school, it’s more like these two people who are both different flavors of neurodivergent bouncing off each other in a way that unexpectedly works. This also explains why John hates GameBro and Dave likes it – John takes it seriously while Dave is reading it as a satire of other gaming magazines. (I actually don’t know which is true).  

John has a bunch of rigid rules for the world that read like shortcuts – he doesn’t innately understand societal norms, but has figured out these approximations through careful observation. A kid’s yard must have a tire swing (p.27), a fireplace must have a fire (p.50), and a father must have a pipe (p.74) and by satisfying the checkboxes you can make a family. He’s hesitant to break rules he knows even when it’s a logical course of action, like when he doesn’t want to break the window of his dad’s car to get the Sburb disc and save Rose’s life (p.289).

But if he hasn’t added something to his List of Known Social Rules, it’s open season – he’s completely unconcerned when he accidentally throws one of Dad’s harlequin figurines into the abyss (p.266) even though he gets upset when the things he likes are defaced. The imps are ‘stupid lousy’ for ‘mucking up all [John’s] cool stuff’ (p.473) and have ‘fucking ruined’ his movie posters which ‘were like children to [him]’ (also another example of object fixation). John being overly cautious in some social situations but totally oblivious in others is SO neurodivergent to me, so obviously someone who wants to get it right, but doesn’t have the innate skill.

John clearly struggles with emotional regulation, I don’t think he’s good at masking in face-to-face interactions, and even online ones when he gets stressed enough. He also has very physical reactions to emotional distress (and excitement!), and that can’t be explained by the medium needing to show emotions visually, because he does this to a FAR greater extent than Rose and Dave. John does a victory dance when he wins in battle (p.405) but scrunches up his face and covers his ears when Nannasprite offers him cookies (p.429). Some panels where he’s having a meltdown are really evocative, and it’s so easy for me to imagine how he must be feeling – the chaos of page 517, where John is paralyzed and panicked from way too many stimuli both inside and outside his head, is my best example.

His panic is also evident in his pesterlogs with Dave and Jade shortly after arriving in the Medium. He’s pretty rude to Dave, saying ‘dude, i don't have time for your nerdy raps!’ (p.204) and his sudden use of lots of exclamation points make all his messages sound distressed. He pours the whole story of his meteor escape to Jade, seemingly unable to stop himself (p.293) where someone with more control over their emotional responses might bottle it up, or at least calm down before explaining the story to a friend.

John’s intrusive thoughts are part of the medium; hearing commands in his head is better explained by the story’s rules than by John’s mental state. However, studies have found that intrusive thoughts are very common among humans – they’re just easy to dismiss for most people, while a small minority find them distressing to the point that they affect daily life.

Rose posits that John’s reactions to WV’s commands could be ‘the early symptoms of an anxiety disorder, like post-traumatic stress’ but I read it a little differently; I think his distress at WV’s commands, as opposed to the background radiation of reader commands, kind of represents how a symptom that is manageable in one context becomes debilitating in another.

Related to commands, John likes having clear instructions to follow, and doesn’t respond well to uncertainty. When he has no idea how to use the alchemiter, he just stands on it (p.161) – but he also doesn’t uncritically accept authority. He defers to expertise and likes to ask specific questions and get clear instructions before acting, but that has to be earned. He sees Rose as smart and capable in general, so he follows her instructions within Sburb (for example, p.178) unless he has a better idea (for example, p.187). But the Wayward Vagabond hasn’t earned John’s trust or done anything besides shout and insult him, so John resists his commands (for example, p.264).

A few miscellaneous things I noticed are John just HAVING to complete high fives with his sprite’s raised arm (p.198, 880), John being clumsy and accidentally toppling his nanna’s urn (p.53), John having very strong preferences when it comes to food, as he loves Gushers enough to get them as a birthday gift (p.972) but pulls instinctive faces of disgust at the thought of eating cookies (p.430), and the line ‘there is apparently no crisis so imminent that will deter you from contemplating idiotic and frivolous actions’ (p.199). I think that someone whose brain processes things differently may appear idiotic and frivolous, and they might even internalize that perspective, but the logic actually makes sense. (In this case, John trying to eat a unit of build grist taught him more about how grist as a gaming abstraction works).

Most evidence for John’s depression is in early act 1, before the plot really kicks off. John is very depersonalized at the start of the story; it’s only on his thirteenth birthday that he gets given a name, and he’s associated with a regularly-changing disguise throughout the first hundred pages. There’s a broader theme of mistaken identity in his home – his dad might be a clown or might be a businessman, the figurines might be clowns or harlequins or mimes, the poster on the wall might be Michael Cera but isn’t, and both John’s dad’s room and his own room are not what he expected them to be.

I think this theme of disguise relates to how John doesn’t see himself as having a real identity, perhaps not even a recognizable personality outside of his interests. I also think John is much better at masking his depression than his neurodivergence in a way that’s pretty tragic. Both Rose (p.63) and Dad (p.89) see through John’s CLEVER DISGUISE immediately and think they know John for it, but there’s another part to the disguise that they never notice.

John puts himself down a lot in the early story, insulting his own taste in movies and skills at programming in his list of interests (p.4), thinking of himself as a pooplord (p.5), as neither a skilled magician nor cunning prankster (p.8), stupid (p.16), etc. The “sad clown paradox” (for sure one of my favorite Wikipedia article titles) refers to the correlation between comedians and depression, and while it’s not universal, I think it’s very true for John. Playing a prank on someone and seeing their reaction is a moment of predictable pleasure in an endless drudgery of whiling away the hours, and those tiny bursts of dopamine – and connection with another person, if they respond well – are what keeps John going.

John struggles to focus on reading – every book he owns, we’ve seen him contemplate reading and put off until later. He does this with Colonel Sassacre’s (p.32, 69, 885), Wise Guy (p.123, 253), Data Structures for Assholes (p.116), and the Shaving Almanac (p.544). When he does sit down to read, he’s easily distracted (p.391) – he has good reason here, but this struggle to focus could be a sign of depression. This could be why John has an interest, paranormal lore, that we don’t really see him engage in; it’s easy for depression to take the joy out of something that was once filled with it.

I actually think it’s really interesting how Homestuck’s version of Wise Guy presents Harry Anderson – John’s hero – as a clumsy, incompetent fool (p.629) while the real world Wise Guy describes him as charismatic and in control of the crowd. I say this with all the love in the world, but John has the charisma of the fake Harry Anderson and not the real, and he believes that of himself too. John picking a hero who is described in such a negative light speaks to the type of people he identifies with.

On page 82, which is both the Homestuck title card and the best evidence for John’s depression, he refers to the streets as ‘empty’, to the ‘voids keeping neighbors apart’, ‘hollow’, ‘Desolation’, to feeling something ‘missing’, ‘eluding’, a sense of ‘lack’, ‘Absence’, a ‘mystery dispersing’, a ‘black well’. All that imagery is packed into two paragraphs that do not describe a happy person. This sense of emptiness, distance, space and loss of something is what I most associate with depression, and it provides a real contrast to those autistic meltdown moments where John is feeling too much.

John explicitly says that he feels trapped in his room (p.30) but I think he’s actually trapped in a mindset, and the room or house is more like the physical manifestation of that. That’s not a criticism of him, as I think that can be equally hard to break out of. I have talked a lot about growing up in the suburbs being terrible for finding community, but there is another angle. The Egberts are comfortably middle class, Dad has a car, money, flexible enough work schedule to take John’s birthday off, and supports John’s interests. There are probably computer programming clubs or amateur magic classes in a nearby city, and if John said he wanted to join something like that, I bet Dad would support him. John’s depression makes it impossible for him to even imagine a better situation, much less take steps to grasp it – he needed to be seconds from death for his survival instincts to kick in and make him take action.

I hope that answers your question! Again, I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts on this if anyone has different experiences or picked up on different John moments.

[sombrathedragon]

Hey guys !! So I have 257 followers (THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THAT BTW !!) So as a little gift I would draw your ocs (but I don’t trust myself to not forget and let them pile up in my inbox 😭) So instead I’m giving out Wof adopts based on Greek Gods !! :D

I normally see adopts being first come first serve, but this time I wanna make my adopts something different. This time you have a write a backstory for the character! (I don’t expect like multiple paragraphs, but I would rather prefer more than just one sentence !! ^^) also these adopts are made on the wonderful bases by @laweema !!!

[plain text: write a backstory]

Astrapi! (Based off of Zeus) [Taken by @mythos321]

Okeanos! (Based off Poseidon!) [Taken by @yellow-computer-mouse]

Nekros! (Based off Hades!) [Taken by @crazy-grrrl-on-the-computer]

Sofos! (Based off Athena!) [Taken by @inspiredwriterstory]

Agapi! (Based off Aphrodite!)

Polemos! (Based off Ares!) [Taken by @harperfrost]

Kynigi! (Based off Artemis!) [Taken by @xcometstarx]

Fos! (Based off Apollo!)

Katergaris [Goes by Kater]! (Based off Hermes!)

Krasi! (Based off Dionysus!)

anyways yeahhh that’s it !! 😁😁😁

[wrangleandtame]

Here’s yet another Tyler x Kate fic - can’t stop myself ♥️🌪️

ANNUAL DERECHO

Kate’s anger came in tractable forms Tyler had easily categorized during their three months together. Most frequently when Tyler pissed her off, he’d easily disarm her with his warm charm or an earnest declaration. Occasionally, her quiet melancholy could metastasize into a subtle ire that she contained by seeking solitude. He knew this, and gave her the space she required to shake it off. These were rare occurrences, though, within her generally sunny and energetic mien.

For the last week, the team found themselves particularly unlucky in their weather chasing within Texas, resulting in tension and general unease. Kate never appeared perturbed by the losses, often taking to the radio with optimistic little comments: “Can’t wrangle them all.” “It’ll happen.” “Just a dry spell.” Tyler marveled at how a few encouraging words from Kate could reset the entire team’s attitude.

Today was different. She awoke with a biting choler dripping from each syllable. Simple questions, she met with curt monosyllabic answers, and avoided eye contact (her tell.) She busied herself with mundane tasks, anything it seemed, to avoid inertia.

He’d placed a hand on her back, and she’d bristled. She swerved to avoid his kiss, like she was dodging a fastball. The lightest physical affection she pulled from as though her skin burned from his touch.

His breakfast-loving Kate, who normally stacked hashbrowns and eggs into weird towers before consuming, who stuffed whole pancakes and sausages into a baggie “for later,” she’d say when rushed, today couldn’t be bothered to eat. Weather didn’t dictate rushing this morning, but she’d ordered only toast and coffee for breakfast, consuming a single bite of toast and three sips of black coffee (she preferred it sweet and creamy) before the scrutiny of his eyes upon her proved too much.

She’d mumbled, “not hungry, I’ve got to…” She’d stood up and left without finishing her sentence.

When he’d joined her in the truck (why wasn’t she sitting outside? The truck had to be moving for Kate to be happy within it.) she’d turned her knees away from him and dug through her bag, never finding what she sought.

Kate’s body broadcast her feelings better than words, something anyone with eyes could discern. Her shoulders lifted and tight, her jaw muscles clenched, she continued hunching over her computer, scowling at the screen. Every part of her looked wound tight, her countenance like a rubber band pulled to snapping.

He watched her face press into frustration while she typed furiously, pausing to pull out her tablet and only became further irritated with whatever she read.

“Stop staring at me,” she grumbled.

“You’re too damn pretty Kate; what the hell am I supposed to do? Like tellin’ someone to quit lookin’ at a sunrise.”

She didn’t respond with words, but her face momentarily transmuted from annoyance to a contemplative doleful expression. If he was reading her right, and he knew he was, guilt and regret had a hand in whatever was so obviously plaguing her.

“Something you want to talk about?” The bait probably too big for the hook, but he cast the line anyway.

“Like what?” She bit out, not raising her eyes from her screen.

“Weather? Politics?” She flinched at his words as though he yelled them through a bullhorn.

When she didn’t respond, he sighed quietly and said, “Just gonna check in with Dani and Dexter. If you need me, I’ll be across the lot.”

Her response was a terse nod again devoid of visual connection.

He whipped out a folding chair positioning himself next to Dani and Dexter; though his open laptop perched upon his denimed knees, his eyes barely left Kate’s form.

“She okay?” Dani asked, concern in her voice.

He gave her a brief reassuring smile, “She will be, but no, not right now she’s not.”

She didn’t require more of an explanation, and neither had Dexter, thankfully. Lily and Boone had driven into Galveston to pick up a part for the drone, relieving Tyler of the type of questions and interaction Boone would require given Kate’s behavior.

Several hours passed, and they asked little from Tyler. Instead, Dexter and Dani passed between them Doppler updates, snacks and weather chaser gossip as they reviewed disappointing projections.

When Javi’s truck pulled into the parking lot, Tyler straightened in surprise.

“Hey, thought Javi was in Galveston too,” Dani noticed. “Isn’t he supposed to be meeting with those fellas at NWS in Fort Worth?” Dexter asked.

“Far as I know,” Tyler murmured.

Javi parked near Tyler’s truck, hopped out and made a beeline for Kate. She glanced up, and an emotion Tyler couldn’t identify crossed her face.

She immediately shoved her tech aside, clambered out of the truck and briskly walked to Javi; when they reached each other, they hugged fiercely. Tyler could see her shoulders began shaking the way they did when she cried. She was fucking crying.

Tyler stood, started for them, and then stopped. Despite all of his instincts screaming to comfort her, he sat back down. Whatever the hell was going on between them, Tyler’s presence wasn’t needed, and he reminded himself to respect her boundaries. This did not come naturally to Tyler. He possessed a proclivity for protectiveness to the point of being downright territorial, though he hid it well, he thought. Thankfully, his desire to honor Kate’s wishes overrode any possessiveness that reared its very unattractive head.

Dexter patted him on the back, and quietly praised him, “well done.” Maybe he didn’t hide it that well.

It upset him to think on how all morning she had sternly rebuked his every attempt at connection, but Javi just appeared, and they were having this moment together.

Within this mounting frustration, an epiphany struck Tyler, and he whispered, “I’m an idiot.”

“What’s that?” Dani asked.

“Nothing,” he responded, his thoughts swirling with the formation of a plausible hypothesis for Kate’s mood, and Javi’s presence.

Now that he knew what he was looking for, Tyler studied their interaction for confirmation. Javi’s eyes were closed, but even from here, Tyler could see several rogue tears escape down his face. He said something, Tyler could see his mouth moving, and Kate pulled back a bit from Javi’s embrace, wiping roughly at her eyes and nose.

They continued to talk, Kate’s arms folded around herself as they did, and then to Tyler’s great relief, she half-smiled. Javi laughed lightly and Kate nodded. Javi pulled napkins from his pocket and handed half of them to Kate. She blew her nose, and he blew his, and they laughed again. Not joyous laughing, but still, it wasn’t crying.

Javi stuffed his napkins in his pocket and pointed at his truck. They hugged again quickly, Kate smiled wistfully, and Javi jogged back towards his truck. He caught Tyler’s eye, and with a subtle dip of his head offered a wordless greeting. Tyler returned it with a smile.

When Tyler tried to locate Kate again, she was walking quickly towards the convenience store across the street.

Tyler sauntered back over to his truck to wait for her to return and checked his phone, confirming his theory. Sure enough, on the same date, five years ago, an EF5 tornado ended the lives of Kate and Javi’s friends. He pulled open his phone’s calendar and typed: “Anniversary of Kate’s Tornado” and set it to a yearly reminder.

Kate exited the convenience store, and as she closed the distance between them, he smiled, “Hungry yet?”

She shook her head, and handed him a peace offering bottle of cold tea, “I’m sorry. I’ve been such a complete asshole today. I didn’t mean to - “

“S’okay Kate,” he smiled.

“It’s not. I’ve been awful to you.”

“You’re entitled to have a bad day every once in awhile.”

“Sure, but…I took it out on you,” she looked at the gravel and then up at him (finally! Prolonged eye contact!), her glassy eyes red-rimmed.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Ever,” she sniffed. “I’m so sorry. Forgive me?”

“Nothin’ to forgive,” he smiled softly. “Be alright if I hold you a minute?”

Unshed tears made her dusky sienna eyes sparkle, “Yes. Please.”

She leaned into his chest and he clutched her to him, one arm around her waist and one drawing her head closer. He kissed her head and stroked her hair. She unconsciously grabbed a fistful of his soft brown shirt like she was keeping him from pulling away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, and he wondered if she was apologizing to some ghosts as well.

“It’s alright, honey. I can take it,” he kissed the top of her head again, and pulled her against him even tighter. He ran his thumb along her spine up and down slowly, “it’s alright.”

“Thank you,” she sniffed.

“For what?”

“For being you.”

AUTHOR’s NOTE: thank you to this beautiful fandom for all of your encouraging feedback. The dopamine hits from your comments is giving me life.

Was thinking of doing another chapter of this one from Kate’s perspective of the day. What do you think? Move on?

Am also working on two other Kate x Tyler fics - obsessed is an understatement.

[kwanisms]

[13:00], Hongjoong, requested by anon

╰┈➤ M27 "I cannot possibly focus with your damn hand in my-"

summary: your boyfriend invited you to visit him in his studio

wc: 1.3k

warnings: adult dialogue, sexual content: handjob (m receiving), hair pulling, and unprotected sex (use protection!!!)

a/n: Jesus u did not have to put this in my head but hot DAMN am i glad you did! I hope you like it as much as i liked writing it!

tagging @rdiamond2727 cause she asked me to (again) >:) also tagging @yoonguurt and @leadinglady17 cause I can >:D

════════════════════════════════

It had been over an hour since you'd arrived at Hongjoong's studio. He'd been in deep focus with the song he was working on, muttering under his breath with Eden when you arrived with his favorite takeout.

Eden took that as his cue to leave, knowing you'd prefer to spend some alone time with your boyfriend.

It was a nice time, just sitting there and eating while Hongjoong told you about his day and caught you up to speed on what he was working on and what he was excited for.

It was always a treat for you to see him in such a state. In his element so to speak that it never bothered you once when he went off the rails on whatever conversation you were having.

However, since it was him who invited you over to begin with, you were starting to get a little… antsy waiting for him to finish whatever project he was working on. Normally it didn’t bother you to wait for him to finish but tonight for some reason, you were getting impatient.

Maybe it was just because he had been the one to invite you over. Maybe it was because he looked so damn good in those sweats. Maybe it was because you hadn’t been intimate in a while.

Whatever the reason, you were starting to get… needy.

Hongjoong seemed to be oblivious when you got up from the small black leather sofa in the back of the studio and moved to sit in the chair Eden had previously been sitting in. Hongjoong glanced over at you, flashing you a smile but went back to his computer, focused on the screen.

You took the opportunity to look him over, taking in all his features and the way the light from the computer screen shone on his face.

He was barely bobbing his head to whatever music was playing through the beats he was wearing, hands resting near his keyboard as he most likely repeated a section of his project over and over to make sure it sounded the way he wanted it to.

He didn’t move when you leaned in closer, resting your chin on his shoulder. He merely smiled at your proximity and continued working. He didn’t even flinch when your hand moved to his arm, resting against his bicep.

He was so focused on his work that he only reacted when you kissed his neck. He giggled, whispering that it tickled. You rested your chin on his shoulder, your hand moving to the back of his neck and playing with the hair at the base of his head.

He loved it when you played with his hair but you also knew exactly how much it turned him on when you tugged on it, even playfully.

And that’s exactly what you did. Lightly tugging but playing it off as you combed your fingers through his locks. That combined with the occasional kisses to his neck had the exact effect on him you wanted and you could see him getting hard.

‘Jackpot.’

As carefully as you could, you scooted closer, closing the distance between your chairs as much as you could and continued to tug at his hair, lips moving against the skin of his neck until you heard him sigh, tilting his head away to give you more access.

You looked up to see his eyes flutter shut and took that opportunity to sneak your free hand down to rest on his thigh.

“Babe,” he said softly, more of a warning than anything else.

“I need to finish this,” he whined, trying to pull himself together, opening his eyes and resuming his work.

You weren’t going to give up that easily though.

Your hand on his thigh slid up, fingers skimming over his obvious erection. You watched as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth but his eyes stayed glued to his screen.

Your hand continued up, fingers toying with the waistband of his sweats but he said nothing nor made any move to stop you. You could almost see the wheels in his head turning as he tried to process what to do.

You took that lapse in his focus to slip your hand inside his pants and boxers, finding his cock quickly and wrapped your fingers around him, making him hiss. “Yah, Y/N,” he whined. “I’m trying to work,” he added, lips twitching as he tried not to smirk.

You looked up at him, blinking innocently. “I’m not doing anything,” you murmured. Hongjoong scoffed, rolling his eyes but said nothing. You waited for him to relax under your touch before moving again.

Hongjoong let out a groan, head falling back against the headrest of his chair as you slowly began to stroke him, watching his lips part and feeling a small sense of pride at being the cause for his lack of focus.

“What’s wrong, Joongie?” You asked innocently. “I thought you had work to do.”

Hongjoong’s eyes snapped open and he turned his head to look at you, fixing you with a semi-stern glare. “Work? Work??” He asked, hips bucking up into your hand.

“I cannot possibly focus with your damn hand in my—”

He couldn’t finish his sentence because the next second your lips were on his in a rushed and heated kiss, hand still stroking him in his pants.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong groaned as he pulled back from the kiss. He turned his chair to face you, pulling your hand and his cock out of his pants and pulled you up out of your seat. “Fine,” he growled as he pulled you onto his lap, thankful for the skirt you decided to wear.

You pulled your panties to the side and sank down on him quickly, moaning at the sudden intrusion.

“I’ve been waiting an hour for this,” you whined, resting your hands on his shoulders as you circled your hips, leaning in to kiss him as his hips grabbed your ass, guiding your hips to roll against him.

“Sorry I made you wait,” he murmured against your lips as you slowly rode him.

“You can make it up to me now,” you breathed, lifting up and sinking back down slowly, taking as much of his cock as you could in this position. Hongjoong reached over to the desk, pushing his keyboard and other computer accessories out of the way before wrapping both arms around you and standing up to set you on the edge of the desk.

He thrust into you, making you cry out at the force as he set a quick and punishing pace, pounding into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cursed as you tried to hold onto him. “Holy shit, Joong.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted, baby?” He asked, a smirk on his face. The same smirk you usually saw on stage or when you were in the bedroom. “For me to fuck you?”

Unable to speak because of how he was fucking you into oblivion, you opted for nodding vigorously. Hongjoong chuckled as he continued to thrust into you.

“Can’t even speak? What a dumb, needy, little slut.”

Normally those words would sting, hurt your ego, but for some reason when Hongjoong said them now, it only made you moan, the familiar building tension in your lower abdomen starting.

Hongjoong knew you well enough that you were getting close and it only made him laugh lightly again.

“So close already, baby?” He asked. You nodded wordlessly.

Hongjoong gave you a particularly hard thrust and caused you to cry out. “Words, baby girl,” he commanded and you obeyed instantly.

“Yes!”

Hongjoong moved one of his hands up to cup your cheek. “Good girl,” he replied.

“Now come for me,” he added.

All it took was those four words to have you coming with a mewl of his name, your toes curling and eyes rolling back as Hongjoong helped you ride out your orgasm.

As you came down, you looked up at your boyfriend, eyes focusing on him as he watched you come back to reality. “Jesus Christ, Joong,” you whined. His hips has slowed to a roll as he helped you come down.

“Oh I’m not done,” he said, snapping his hips forward.

“You had yours, now it’s my turn.”

[ohdearlingwhathappened]

A Pair Made in the Pits chapter 2

Falling Behind Part 2

Chp 1, Chap 3

A/n: Here's Chapter 2 of this series. I have started my current semester, so chapters are going to be quite slow. Apologies in advance! This has primarily not been beta read, so let me know if you find any discrepancies. And most important, enjoy the chapter!

Having two robots kill them all by driving into the side of a cliff after quasi kidnapping them was not how Y/n thought this would go down, but with a shriek, she closed her eyes and silently asked any deity that may exist to please rain vengeance down on her kidnappers. That is, until she realized there were no sounds or feelings of the crash and the light beyond her eyelids dimmed from the harsh Nevada sun; opening her eyes, she realized that they somehow were now in a grey corridor that eventually lead to a rather large open room in which two more robots stood, probably having been alerted to their arrival considering their already apprehensive looks. At Bee’s stopping, the younger boy Y/n now knows as Raphael, or Raf as he prefers, gets out and she slowly follows him out and takes her place standing in front of the children. She knows, logically, that if anything were to happen, she likely wouldn’t be able to stop anything, but she might be able to buy them time, at the very least.

“I thought there were two.” The red and white robot questions the blue and pink bot. He was the first one Y/n had seen once they had entered the clearing, of sorts. He had been standing over by what looked to be a large computer, though she supposes it’s quite normal sized, or possibly even small, for them.

Ever snarky, the effeminate bot responds, “Haven’t you heard- humans multiply.” before walking more over towards the middle of the room.

Y/n snorts, unbelieving of the situation she and these kids are in, and looks around before hearing human-sized steps moving past her and toward the hulking figure of the green robot, “Miko! Don’t-”

“I’m Miko! Who are you?”

“Bulkhead?” The larger, green robot seemed tense, obviously not used to talking to many other humans, especially teenage girls, most likely. Oblivious to the apparent nerves, Miko gives an excited gasp and begins her questioning.

“Are you a car? I bet you’re a truck. A monster truck! Do you like heavy metal? How much do you weigh?! Have you ever used a wrecking ball for a punching bag?” The questions were an absolute onslaught that, despite not being the one having the questions shot at them, were making even Y/n’s head spin. 

“Miko, hon, give um- Bulkhead- some space to breathe. Besides, I think there are more pressing matters at hand here.” Putting a hand on Miko’s shoulder, Y/n pulls the young girl away. Receding into her thoughts she tries to determine who exactly is in charge, so she can begin ripping into them, and no offense to any of the present company, but they don’t exactly seem like the leading type. “I’m sure one of these robots will have an explanation as to why we had to be dragged out to the middle of nowhere, instead of just letting us go back to our lives.”

“Puh-lease.” The red and white bot scoffs out, leading to Y/n glaring up at him. 

This is the second time one of these indicated that they aren’t all that meets the eye, and the lack of explanation is beginning to make Y/n’s blood boil. However, before she is able to snap back some witty remark, heavy footsteps draw her attention back to another tunnel that weirdly appears to have an almost immediate dead end, but looks to have metal arches and wiring throughout the skeletal infrastructure, to see the largest one of these robots yet. 

“We are autonomous robotic organisms from the planet Cybertron, also known as autobots.” His deep voice rumbles throughout the room, making Y/n feel as if she could feel the vibrations in her very bones. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Jack take a few steps forward and doesn’t stop him. For some reason she can’t explain, the alien before her has eased some of her worries and fears, making her trust that the kids were in safe hands. Just by answering a question.

“Why are you here?”

“To protect your planet from the Decepticons. We came here after our home became inhabitable after years of civil war.”

“I take it those are the guys who attacked you and Rafael last night? My turn for a question- why are we here?” No matter how much some of the explanation put Y/n at ease, there was still a lot to go over, hence why she dons the defensive and accusatory tone and crosses her arms. “No offense, but your war has nothing to do with these children. Why bring them here and further risk their endangerment?”

“Ms. Y/n-” Miko tries to interrupt, but the woman is quick to give her a pointed look.

“No, Miko.” She looks back up to Optimus Prime, and keeps her pointed look on her face, “Don’t you think yesterday was stressful enough for these kids? They are teenagers- Raf is only 12! They should be worrying about their grades, what new video game is coming out, who their soulmate is and what their quote says- not some intergalactic war.” Y/n huffs, annoyed with the situation in front of her. She may not be these kids’ parent, but she does feel responsible for them. “If it was a few other adults or even just myself, that would be different. We’ve gotten our quotes,” her words begin to fade, and she hangs her head, “even if they might be fucked.”

Miko flinches at the misted mention of her teacher’s quote. Having been a host student partially under the care of Y/n for nearly a year now, knows of the woman’s quote circumstances. When the teen came to the states, she had been ecstatic to get away from her overly controlling parents, but she didn’t exactly trust anyone in Nevada either. In a way to get her to open up, Y/n sat her down in one of the offices of the school and played a sort of 20 questions with the girl, to help her loosen up. The questions could be as impersonal as what’s the best place to get food in Jasper, or as personal as questions regarding her quote. 

“So I can ask anything?”

“Yep. Anything you want.”

“And you aren’t going to back out if I hit some sore spot?”

“I promise I won’t. You have my word, Miko.”

“Okaaaay. How old are you?”

“Oooo starting off on the hard-hitting questions, huh?” Y/n smiled and pretended to think about it, “I know I must sound ancient, but I’m 26 years old.”

“Meh, you aren’t as old as my parents, so you aren’t that old.” Miko leans back in her chair, thinking about what to ask.”What’s your relationship like with your mom and dad?

“Well… my mother died when I was 12. It was a car crash- she was a lovely woman, from what I can remember. My father, on the other hand, changed after her death, and once I got my quote, he kicked me out.” She shrugged, smiling faintly. It wasn’t a fond memory, but it was nearly 10 years ago, so the pain had faded, but some scars still remained- metaphorically and physically.

“Your quote is that bad? What is it?”

“I do not know.”

“Well, what language is it?”

“If I knew that, I would know what my quote says, wouldn’t I?” 

“Can I see it?”

“No.” The smile evaporates from Y/n’s face, not a trace of it remaining.

“But you said-”

“I said I would answer your questions, Miko, and I have. This is the one limit I have, and I request that you respect that… Ok?” Miko’s eyes flicker between Y/n’s and nods. Noticing the tension, Y/n smiles gently and clears her throat, motioning for the girl to continue- “Now back to your questions- I can’t imagine you’ve gotten them all out.”

“I understand your worries… Ms. Y/n,-” The giant in front of her snaps her out of her reminiscing; it had only been a year and yet the girl had become a trusted and dear person, to Y/n. “-but Decepticon activity has spiked, and with some of their warfront having seen the human children, I fear they may not be safe. Our war has been ongoing for a long time, and while we have not seen nor heard of their leader, Megatron, if his return is as imminent as I believe it is, it would be best to keep the children, and you, in our care whenever we are able.” Optimus looks down at the woman before him, the worry obvious on her face, and kneels down to better look her in the eye. “I assure you. These children will be safer nowhere else.”

“You understand this is a lot to take in, right? I am going to have to not only have the burden of these kids’ safety on my shoulders, but I am going to have to lie to both pairs of Miko’s parents and if I see Jack or Rafael’s I’ll have to lie to them as well. If anything goes wrong, I will never be able to forgive myself.” Y/n’s arms wrap around herself, hands gripping onto the fabric of her blouse. She breaks eye contact with Optimus and looks Jack, Raf, and Miko over, trying to confirm what she was thinking.

The truth is, the woman had already made up her mind, but she was hoping for a slip up, a wrong comment, anything for her to be able to deny the mechanical giant before her. But looking into his eyes, there was nothing but determination and truth glowing from his steady gaze. She drops her shoulders and brings a hand to rub her face, regretting the action slightly when she feels some of her mascara come off in small grains- today had been long.

“I understand your concerns-”

Y/n lowers her hand and looks back at Optimus with determination of her own.

“But I believe you will keep them safe.”

The base is quiet until Miko lets out a cheer of excitement and throws her arms around Y/n’s neck, thanking her for choosing the right choice, before going back over to the boys and speaking rapid fire- likely about how cool this situation was and how much fun they were going to have. 

Miko always had the ability to look at the brighter side of situations- apparently even when being taken under the supervision of giant, alien robots who call themselves Autobots. Raf, despite the little time she has spent with the young boy, Y/n can see that he is a more positive person, with a somewhat more logical spin on things. Finally, there was Jack Darby- a boy who she had seen throughout the halls of the high school and of which Y/n was able to make acquaintance with his mother- a nice woman, a little older than Y/n, who liked to drop off things like a lunch or Jack’s work uniform to the office whenever she got a moment away from the hospital; Jack was more of a mystery to the woman- only knowing he became embarrassed when his mother came to the school and that he was doing just fine in his academics. 

“Optimus, with all due respect, the humans are in as much danger here as anywhere. They have no protective shell!” The grumpier mech of the bunch brings up his own counter argument, waving his hand to refer to the four humans before continuing, “If they get underfoot, they will go… squa-iish.” 

“Hey!-”

“Then for the time being, Ratchet, we must watch where we step.” Optimus ends the argument before it can truly begin, cutting off Y/n and inadvertently telling the other bot that the humans will be staying for the foreseeable future. 

But before anyone else can get another word in edgewise, a green light begins flashing while an alarm blares throughout the compound, making the bots turn to the giant computer screens and the humans stiffen.

“What’s that?” Jack calls out over the alarm, bringing Bee’s attention back to the group, the beeps and chirps from earlier is the only response he gives.

“Proximity sensor. Someone’s up top.” Raf pipes up from behind Y/n, making her quirk an eyebrow at the fact that he can understand the yellow bot, but it is quickly overshadowed by the fact that another human is aware of the Autobot’s existence. 

“That would be Special Agent Fowler- he is our liaison to the outside world. As he tends to visit only when there are issues, it may be best if you do not meet him at this time.” Optimus turns back to the four smaller individual in the room, once he was aware of who was dropping in to visit, and at his explanation, Y/n reluctantly ushered the children to go hide around the corner of the platform, positive it would keep them out of sight, just as long as this Agent Fowler didn’t walk too far forward or do a survey of the base’s condition. As the leader of this group spoke to the agent, Y/n turned to the children and pinned them with narrowed eyes.

“While the boys are talking, I’m setting up ground rules,” Y/n whispers, her hands finding their place on her hips as she begins her little TED talk about spending time with giant robots. These children would listen to her whether they wanted to or not, “First of all, and quite possibly the most obvious- no talking about this with anyone, not your parents- host, biological, or otherwise; no one at school; work; band; clubs- nobody. Second, they are in a war- this is not an intergalactic daycare program- this is not fun, happy times-” As if on schedule, Bulkhead ripped a piece of equipment out of the electrical socket it was welded into and crushed it while speaking to Fowler, “-so treat it like the warzone that it is. Third, none of you are to go on any kind of mission. I don’t care if they need a human sized partner for some easy peasy scouting mission, if one of you are able to fit in a small area, or whatever the hell they do- they have the help of the government, so they can ask them for any help. The fourth, and hopefully the last rule, be careful and rely on me. Jack and Raf, I know you two don’t know me very well, but I promise you can come to me for anything.” She looks at Miko and grins, “You already come to me instead of your host parents- that still applies here. You kids are my responsibility and priority- if something happens at any point, you get the fuck out of danger. I don’t care what you lose- your phones, a school book- it doesn’t matter. Am I understood?”

All three of the kids nod, each murmuring some form of affirmation of hearing her.

“Great! Sounds like the agent has left, so let’s rejoin the lot of them and figure out where to go from here.” Y/n, dropping the serious- and downright intimidating- stance she held, smiles and walks around the corner not waiting for any more of a response from the three. 

“What do you mean Cliffjumper’s life signal came back online?” Arcee, who had previously been leaning against the elevated platform that leads to the elevator which Agent Fowler had left through, straightens and approaches Ratchet and his computer systems. The kids, following Arcee’s interest, had made their way up onto a railing-lined platform to get a better look at the computer themselves, leaving Y/n at the base of the main structure’s stairs. “Is that possible?”

“It shouldn’t be. It’s probably this primitive earth tech that we’re stuck with.” Ratchet slams his fist against the base of the computer, hoping it would possibly make the computer 

“If there’s any chance Cliff’s alive-” Arcee looks up to Optimus, hope for their previously thought-to-be dead comrade easily seen throughout her body.

“Ratchet, prepare the sick bay- we may need it.” The stoic bot nods to the others and they all begin to walk towards the stunted tunnel Optimus had come from earlier, leaving Y/n to wonder if there was some other sort of trap door like there had apparently been when she and the kids entered the base with Bumblebee and Arcee. Miko, as if already forgetting what she was just told, leans over the railing,

“What can we do?!” The girl was thrilled at the prospect of seeing some giant robot action, only to be brought quickly back to reality.

“Absolutely nothing! Did you not remember a single thing we just went over, young lady?!” Y/n snaps, making the girl visibly droop and glance at Optimus, hoping for another reaction.

“Miss Y/n is correct, you will stay here- with Ratchet.” His words ring with finality, making both Miko and Ratchet give a whine and groan respectively, and before anyone knows it, a portal appears composed of all sorts of shades of blues and greens. It would have been gorgeous, if it’s appearance wasn’t so sudden and startling. “Autobots, roll out!”

And just as fast as it appeared, almost as soon as the autobots disappeared into it, so did the swirling mass.

“What just happened?!” It was now Jack’s turn to nearly fall over the railing, leaning as far out as he could- as if he didn’t believe his eyes. To be fair, Y/n herself was still trying to believe hers. 

“I transported them to the designated coordinates via the groundbridge.” Ratchet explained nonchalantly, as if whatever he just said was common knowledge. 

“Oh, yes, because that explains everything.” Y/n grumbles to herself, tired of all the new information she’s been receiving today. She already had to deal with one attitudinal robot after dealing with attitudinal children and coworkers all day, she was not going to listen to another one for whatever condescending and blatantly bothered comments he may throw at her and the kids’ way.

As he gives the kids a rundown of the “groundbridge”, Y/n half listens as she looks around the base, trying to get some stable understanding of where she is; with everything changing and new information being thrown at her every five minutes, the need for something to be relatively unchanging was almost necessary, unless Y/n wanted to pass out from information overload.

The base itself is older- it had to have been abandoned by the government far before the Autobots arrived. And upon further inspection, there are three tunnels, not two. There’s the tunnel they arrived through, the stunted tunnel that holds the technology for the groundbridge, and then there’s the third tunnel that Y/n could only assume went further throughout the silo’s infrastructure. Walking towards the new area, she begins to wonder about the bots’ living quarters. 

I wonder if they have their own rooms here. I can’t imagine them all spending every second of every day with each other- they’d go mad. I wonder if their suites would be suited to their vehicle forms… like a kind of habitat. Pfft they could call it a habsuite. Though, that sounds as if I’m likening them to animals so perhaps not. Having a short giggle to herself at the random word, Y/n’s thoughts are abruptly cut off by Optimus’ voice coming through the computer system ordering Ratchet to open the bridge-thing. Heading back over towards the ambulatory mech and the kids, she notices a lack of a new body among them.

“Cliffjumper?” Ratchet inquires, bringing everyone’s heads to hang, confirming the worst news- he was gone. The air is solemn, the loss of anyone- mechanized or organic- is always a hard blow to be dealt to one’s psyche, and Y/n’s heart goes out to them for the loss of their friend. 

“What was that explosion?! Was there a fight?! Can I come with, next time?!” Miko once again taking her place at the railing, misses the que that now is not the time to be asking about their next adventure. Y/n knew the girl was just excited, but she was coming across as insensitive.

“Miko-”

“Hey hey, Miko, let’s go see what the bots hide in their sock drawers.” Thankfully, Jack had a better grasp on the situation and led Miko away so that what happened could be discussed, despite her aired grievances.

Optimus approached Arcee gently, it being obvious that she was the most shaken up over what had happened on the other side of that portal, “Arcee, what did you see?”

The bot in question wrapped her arms around herself. Any trace of the spunky bot who Y/n met earlier that day was gone, leaving behind a shaken, hurt woman who was still in shock after seeing her friend gone.

“Not Cliff. At least, not anymore. He was mutated. Butchered. Like… something from those con experiments during the war.” And before anyone could catch her, her knees hit the ground and her arms caught one of the cases to keep herself up. Bee whirred in what could easily be understood as concern for his friend, but she waved him off, “I’m fine… just dizzy.” 

Ratchet, the obvious medic of the group, immediately begins running diagnostics and scans, finding what Y/n could only see a glimpse of some kind of purple goo.

“Cliff was covered in this stuff- leaking it.” Upon hearing this, Ratchet scrapes some off of her and tells her to take a decontamination bath at once. She nods and accepts Bee’s help to the makeshift shower. 

“Optimus?” Jack calls the attention of the giant mech who leans down slightly and waves his phone a little, “I hate to bug but no bars?”

Not having even thought about the time, Y/n looks down at her own and startles at the time blinking back at her- 10:32. While it might not be a big deal for her, she can only imagine the panic the kids’ parents might be going through. Miko might have the excuse of going over certain study materials with Y/n, but the two boys had nothing to protect them from their parents’ wrath. 

“I didn’t even think of curfew!” Y/n yelps. “Miko, I don’t normally encourage you to lie to your parents, but this is kind of a special case. Just let them know I was helping you with some of your studies and wanted to speak with you about possible extracurriculars. I’m sorry, boys, but I don’t know if I can help you come up with any excuses as to why you’ll be getting home so late. I suppose you can partially blame me, Jack. Your mother has my number, so she might call me, and I can cover for you.”

“Earth customs… I hadn’t considered.” Optimus hums stands upright. “The issue of your safety remains. Bulkhead, accompany Miko home and maintain covert surveillance in vehicle form.”

“Curbside duty, got it.” He nods in response to his orders.

“Bumblebee, watch over Raf. And Ratchet-”

The mech doesn’t even turn around, “Busy!”

“Arcee, you’ll accompany Jack.”

After a moment’s pause, she brings a hand to her forehead and heaves a sigh, “Oh, still dizzy.”

“You’re fine, says your physician.” Ratchet deadpans, foiling Arcee’s attempt to get out of babysitting, leading her to hunch her shoulders and groan.

“And I will join you to your home, Ms. Y/n.”

“Oh! Um alright.” A sort of awkward smile is shot up at him and with everyone’s positions set, the humans get situated in their guardians and they all ‘roll out’.

*       *       *        *       *       *

The drive back to Y/n’s home was quiet. Staring out into the desert seemed to be the only option she could come to; today was… something. One second she’s hearing yet another rambling session from Mrs. Albert and now, she’s riding home in a sentient semi-truck that can transform into a metal man from outer space. A metal man who seems to have the worlds on his shoulders and on top of it all, he’s lost another soldier- another friend just hours ago. There is nothing Y/n could possibly say to begin expressing how sorry she is for his loss and for adding to his already-present, heavy workload. Not that she had the time- even though she could have sworn she had just been looking at the wide expanse of the desert, Optimus was rolling up to the front of her house. 

After a moment of neither of them speaking, a sound that would normally be the noise of a semi stopping rings out, and the air coming from his vents could easily be understood as a kind of exhale in attempt to gain Y/n’s attention, “Ms. Y/n, we have arrived.”

“Just Y/n is fine. Unless you’d like me to start calling you Mr. Optimus or Mr. Prime.” The woman snorts and the seats vibrate slightly as a low chuckle runs through Optimus’ alt-mode.

“Understood.”

“...I-... I’m sorry. About your friend, I mean.” Fiddling with the ends of her right-hand sleeve and noticing it had started to bunch up at some point in the day, she pulls it as far down as possible. 

“Cliff Jumper was a brave soldier and good friend. I will see him and our other lost friends when I eventually rejoin the Allspark.”

“The Allspark?”

“A well of power and energon from which all life on Cybertron came from and will return to- until all are one…” There’s a wistfullness to the mech’s voice, as if there are more meanings to the what he’s just said, ones in which he yearns for. Jolting himself out of whatever thoughts were whipping around in his head, Optimus continues, “...but that is a story for another day. For now, you must recharge. I will see early tomorrow morning, Y/n.”

The door to Y/n’s right pops open, and she hops out- albeit a tad awkwardly- and looks back at the semi, “Thank you, Optimus. For promising me to keep us, but most importantly the children, safe. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

Stepping into her house and into her bedroom, she didn’t even get the chance to change out of her work clothes. Looking at the bed, she decided it would just be best to just pass out and deal with anything that needed to be done in the morning. Before long, her eyes were fluttering shut and sleep finally had her within its grasp. That is until one particular realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

Her car was still parked in the school’s parking lot.

What a day.

Taglist: @the-unhinged-raccoon, @hystericalanarchy