#im going through it at 4am

[strangerhands]

god...... god.......... god... god. god i love this so so much. i need this so so heart-wrenchingly badly. immediately. unwaveringly. unconditionally. pure heartedly. lovingly.

i do just really need a good mom right now. and always, probably. that would be nice, i think. really nice.

aaaa i just really do feel this so much. thank you for the tears. thank you for this absolutely beautiful piece of work. thank you for what you do. thank you, op. i am giving you a hug too, cold as i may be myself. 🫂🫶

YOUR MAY/READER FIC I LOVED IT SO MUCH IT WAS TOO SHORT WE NEED MORE OMG IT WAS SO CUTE

your arms were wrapped as tight around your chest as you could make them, it still didn’t block the blistering cold that shocked your system. frozen to the bones, your teeth clacked until you reached the front door.

barley there knocks, too cold and shaky to give a real one.

but, she heard them.

“hello, clarice!” in an instant her smile dropped to a worried frown, “oh dear,” you’re tugged into her chest and that deep down, frozen blue starts to thaw.

you think it’s the unconditional love, no matter what you did, she’d still give it.

“why are you so cold?”

you hug her tighter, it makes her distressed. she’s never seen you so quiet and dark.

“i walked.”

may wants to discipline you, berate you about the weather and your safety. especially walking alone, at night in a next to nothing coat.

but, she figures there’s a reason.

“come in for tea?” it’s the whole reason you’re there. sometimes, you just really needed that deep love. the love that doesn’t come because it grows or stems from elsewhere. the kind of undeniable, only they can see something special kind of love. the parent kind of love.

you nod, your cheeks are still icy to the touch.

may talks while she moves around the kitchen, you listen and though she may not think it, her words of tenderness warm you from the inside out.

a steaming mug is placed in front of you, your hands cup the mug and you wrap the string of a tea bag around your finger.

a gentle hand is placed on yours, “do you want me to call peter?” she’s already pulling away to grab her phone but you stop her by grabbing her hand back.

“no, peter’s great but…” you tried to hold it in but it demanded to be let loose.

eyes wet and bottom lip trembling, may’s heart broke looking right at you.

“… i just really need a mom right now.”

the admission broke you, a sobbing mess. your breaths stuttered.

may’s never felt her heart break like that, a vulnerable truth. you’ve never cried so hard to her before, or asked her to help pick up the pieces of your hurt.

and may is all about helping those who need it most, where do you think peter got it from?

she doesn’t try to stop you, her arms hold you into her shoulder as you blubber, you feel her kiss your head.

“i’m here, sweetheart. i’m always here.”

[rapidhighway]

moar skatchbook

[telesodalite]

Sort of a ramble, sort of me just writing my thoughts out while I'm stuck with writer's block, but I keep thinking about how Fulcrum was in stasis for roughly 3 million years??

Like, that's a long time, even for Cybertronians. Not a really long time, not an entire lifespan. But still, it's a large chunk of a normal lifespan just gone. Poof.

One second you're crawling across the pockmarked terrain of an alien planet, surrounded by the sound of gunfire, and the shouting and screaming before and after each earth shuddering impact of another k-con hitting the ground. And then it's quiet. You're not there anymore. You're drifting somewhere between not alive and just asleep. Preserved somewhere in the background of a doomed body, ignored by time and space, still here, but also not.

And then there's sound. Not gunfire. Not shouting or screaming. Not the sounds that'll haunt you till your dying days, your own death sentence pounding in your head. No. Just voices, talking, standing out against a silent, dead world. Wondering. Joking. Bickering. Familiar. Just, not familiar to you. And you're awake. Pulled back from the nothingness you've been frozen in, consciousness tugged forwards with the yank of a fuel pump and the nearness of life.

These two moments are roughly 3 million years apart, but only minutes, maybe even seconds, to him. From a hectic harrowing battlefield, to an old silent graveyard in one blink.

How long did it take to really sink in? I mean, he seems to just roll with it. He doesn't seem particularly bothered. But like, what happened outside of what we see? How did he really feel?

Also, his body aged without him. While his mind preserved itself, freezing him as he was right then, his body was left to weather Clemency for all those years. No wonder it crumbled to dust when he jumped off the world sweeper. It's probably a miracle of some kind that it didn't just fall apart each time someone leaned on him.

And even after they rebuild him, give him a better, newer body. His spark, it's casing, all the irreplaceable core bits that make up their inner bodies, it aged in the time without him. Does he feel it? Does it make his body even more foreign to him?

Then he's also a technician with information that's 3 million years out of date. Lucky him that the scavengers probably weren't working with top of the line material. But still it's gotta be weird when faced with anything brand new, because a lot can change and progress in 3 million years, and now some of the knowledge he once prided himself in is obsolete.

Besides those things, his view of the galaxy, of the war, of their kind, of other kinds, is one of the few things actually pointed out when it comes to him being stuck in the past. So, how often were his old views challenged? Facts of life he held close proved to no longer true? There's 3 million years worth of new science, new beliefs, new words, new terms, new views.

And sure, some of it can be familiar, because they're an ever evolving kind, and they have patterns, core beliefs, repeating behaviors, but a lot of it's gonna be unfamiliar at the same time, because it's 3 million years worth of catch up, it's not like missing last week's trend.

In a way, it makes him a living relic of a bygone era for Decepticons. It would've been really interesting to have had that explored a little more.

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[tpup]

want to feel someone I love sleeping beside me but im sick and lonely and don't have a bed or anyone to cuddle.

[clingyduofan]

any s4 subz enjoyers out there. I cannot stop thinking about him

[sodrippy]

i love waking up early but going to bed early??? is there no joy in this world??? must i be denied even the simplest of pleasures????

[cicada-circuitry]

#God tho this does make me want to pull back up that notebook fic snippet i had#of Margo confronting Molly about this too but like with science.#Margo would know. Just saying. She knows. ⃪ does this mean you have Molly/Margo fic?

Hi anon! sorry this is now several days late but boy do I. ( watched FAMK for the first time in February, wound up with Pages and pages of fic snippets (for a couple ships, margo x molly included) in chicken scratch on physical paper which is always a great sign that im being normal about a show, thought I'd cure myself if I just watched the whole thing a second time and absolutely only made it worse. )

I meant to answer this ask by just typing up the quick excerpt of the fic I was talking to myself in the tags about but...... started typing and did not stop. It lives over here now! Was not the one of the notebook fics I thought would see the light of day but you know? why not.

(I assume if you're here you, like me, have already read all the fics to be found but if you have Not read everything in that tag already, highly recommend. this fandom may be small but boy did it have good food on offer when I rolled in four years late fresh off a few episodes and absolutely screaming.)

Since I went ahead and dropped that one on ao3 at like 4am i'll throw in something a little more typical of the the notebook archives - how about this thing that exists entirely bc i noticed that used bookstore you can see beside the Outpost in season 1 and it gave me Ideas

Sometime post crossword-quiz / pre- run-in at the Jazz club.  

Margo walks fast past the Outpost on her way over to Bargain Books. When she can, she prefers to park down at the other end of the street and not have to go by that eyesore of a bar in the first place, but when you double the size of the astronaut program with twenty female ascans, you turn street parking into a blood sport. On her salary, no way is she playing chicken with the corvettes, not even to avoid mustering a polite smile for a coworker at his inebriated worst. 

Most days, that’s only an issue if she swings by after dark, the hour when everybody’s trickling out and stumbling home for the evening. Otherwise, the dingy whitewashed plywood keeps a nice impenetrable wall between book-seeking passers-by and drunken test pilots. Today, however, a spell of perfect weather is conspiring against her. Someone has the door propped open with a rusty paint can, letting the sound of laughter of clinking glass spill through it onto the sidewalk. 

A flash of green catches Margo’s eye before she can make it past. Despite herself, she recognizes that shade in an instant. It’s the flannel shirt she had to reprimand earlier that afternoon for bringing a lit cigarette into the sim. Molly Cobb, bent over a pool table, chin twisted up towards Patty Doyle, grinning like a woman about to win.  

Just Margo’s luck that this is the perfect time of day—indoor light matching outdoor light—for Molly to catch her eye straight through the open door as she makes her shot. 8-ball, dead in the pocket. 

For no reason she can think of, Margo feels heat rushing up into her cheeks. 

She stalks into Bargain Books in a hurry. 

The sweater-vested owner behind the front desk gives her the polite nod reserved for a good customer (and disinterested conversationalist) as she beelines for Paperback Fiction. She finished Matheson’s Ride the Nightmare last night— should have picked up two when she noticed how short it was in the first place, but nothing else tickled her fancy when she was in here a week ago, so here she is again, browsing spines. Maybe it's time to cave and finally grab a 10¢ copy of Rosemary's Baby from the stack on the end, seeing as it’s the one highly recommended title in her genre-of-choice the entire country seems to have read in the last couple years, but she already knows the ending (and the entire premise of demonic pregnancy does not appeal for tuning out after the work day). 

She’s dubiously eying the back-cover blurb on a Chandler detective thriller instead when a voice over her shoulder says, “Oh, Patty loves this shit.” 

To her great chagrin, Margo jumps, gasps, and drops her book. “Jesus, Molly.” 

“My bad.” 

Molly squats down to pick it up, slouchy brown corduroy flexing over her thighs. She fixes a bend in the cover before offering it back to her, but when Margo tries to take it away, Molly doesn’t let go. Instead, she adopts a playfully quirked brow and tugs it back towards herself inch-by-inch, bringing Margo, frowning, a step closer than she was before. “Came here to see if I could talk you into a drink.” 

Margo’s voice comes out approximately four steps too high as she looks around for some explanatory audience and says incredulously, “In there?” with a jerk of her thumb towards the Outpost’s adjoining wall. 

“Yeah. NASA central, shithole though it may be, but I never see you around.” 

“Well, I’m not an astronaut.” 

“Neither are the five white-shirts who monopolize the best booth in the back six nights a week. They don’t check for a pin at the door, Madison. That’d be no way to run a business. It’s a bar. Come have a drink with me.” 

“With… you.” She asks because she expects there to be an and. Me and the other ascans. Me and the rest of you white-shirt types in the back. Me and Patty Doyle. 

But Molly just raps the cover of The Lady in the Lake with her knuckles and says again, “With me.”

[pikachu-deluxe]

really sucks when you can't enjoy things you like bc doing them makes you feel guilty and like you're a piece of shit

[irhabiya]

today sucked the life out of me ya Allah

[flatstarcarcosa]

Everyone say good luck reese and by extension good luck lester. I think my guts are about to give way again and since I'm going into a week of not working I'm going to try and power through and not take immodium or anything. See if I can naturally empty out and reset my system w gentle foods and light eating.

Which means there's high odds I'm not getting much sleep tonight and if I'm not sleeping his ass isn't sleeping either.

[sforzesco]

also i don't know basically anything about roman history so i don't understand the context (often) but i love your comics and style sooo much i want to learn so i can understand..

I'm glad that my comics can still be fun for you even without the context!! 💗

[sludgeguzzler]

im so tired of all of this. i wish i could put it into paper in the form of art but that always feels so impossible

[autistic-katara]

babygirl it is quarter past 4am why r u getting the “tell a trusted adult about ur problems and get comforted” urge???

[the-yearning-astronaut]

I love how my body exists in a constant dual state of: Omg I'm so fucking exhausted I just want to sleep for years vs Omg my head is buzzing and I'm nowhere near ready for sleep. Like. Body. Can we pick one or the other? Please? Not both at once?

[pirateborn-a]

     Screw it      finals are OVER,,,,,      going to pass out for like 12 hours and then try to catch up on things n figure out what to do here---