scratch plate

Tagged by: the beautiful @kpoptrashmx to do a bias moodboard. Thanks for the tag love! This was fun to make 😘

I hate bed rest and bad haircuts, but I do love the way you make white work 😚⚪️💕

Tagging: anyone that wants to do this, especially @dreaming-of-a-new-world @dream-astro @seepinginmoonlight @kae-popx @omgxiaoch @kkngie . I love you guys lots and it’d be cool to see the moodboards you make ❤️💛💚💙💜❣💕💞💓💗💖💘💝

We’ve noticed TFP Optimus’ plating is always scratched up, right?

What if Miko noticed and always offered to help him out with it, offer to polish his armor and always pouts when he politely declines. That doesn’t stop her, though, so she manages to convince Jack and Raf to ask him, as well. Jack just goes along with it, because he’s known her long enough to know she’ll keep bothering him until he says yes. And Raf agrees because he wouldn’t mind helping.

So Optimus has to keep declining when the three humans ask him every couple of days and just shoots Ratchet a look whenever he hears him snicker.

But the first time he agrees is when he regains his memory and comes back. He notices his plating is scratched everywhere, even his window shields. So when Miko asks after Ratchet fixes his injuries he agrees.

Miko’s in shock before she’s jumping for joy and runs to go get the supplies and yells at Jack and Raf to get ready.  

So Optimus is in his vehicle mode while the three humans work hard, and just sits there contentedly.

First Time on the Job

This is your first murder case with Sherlock and unfortunately you meet Anderson and Donovan for the first time too. Short, fluffy, and gender neutral ((Y/G) = Your Gender), enjoy! 🦑

You and Sherlock had gotten the call from Lestrade only a few minutes earlier, already out the door and hailing a cab. It’d been near a month since your last case and Sherlock was going mad always complaining about boredom and being sober. Lestrade called Sherlock about a serial killer, being himself he sprung into action at the thought of such a case, and by the time he told you he was ready to walk out the door.

“So what is this case exactly? You only told me this would be ‘so much fun’ and stormed out.”

“A serial killer, oh how I’ve been waiting- are you excited? You don’t seem excited how could not be?” You’d never seen Sherlock in such an ecstatic state, but you’d also never worked on a serial killer with him.

“Oh no I’m excited, just… curious.” You didn’t want to say worried but you also didn’t want to say happy, so you found the middle man at curious.

Getting to the scene only took ten minutes and it almost bothered you that someone had been brutally murdered so close to you home. That is until you were rudely greeted by Sally Donovan at the police tape, not a very good first encounter. “And who is this?” Only a handful of words and you knew you hated her.

“A coll- uh-” never before had you seen the great Sherlock Holmes stumble over his words.

“(Y/G)friend. I’m his (Y/G)friend.” Beaming proudly at being able to officially call yourself Sherlock Holmes’s (Y/G)friend. On top of that you saw Sherlock blushing, this day was getting better and better until she spoke.

“And how much is he paying a street walker like you to say that?” With murder in your heart, rage in your veins, and a calm mask you convinced yourself you didn’t want to go to prison tonight for murder.

“I’m sorry but the last time I checked you were the side whore in Anderson’s marriage, no? Sweetie if I were you I wouldn’t be talking very much, seems the only good thing your mouth can do is cheat.”

“Oh really you want to fu-” poised and ready to strike, Lestrade jumped in before anyone had to be arrested.

“Sherlock, glad you could make it. Let me show you to the scene. Donovan go cool off,” after a few odd glances and a set of stares Lestrade spoke again,“ so, uh, are you two- uh I mean is this-”

“Yes Lestrade and if you could stop tripping over your words I need to think” Sherlock glared at the detective until he was out of sight, then turning his attention towards you, “Y/N that wasn’t very nice.”

“Oh whatever she had it coming” you retorted to his childish comment. Sherlock pulled you closer, looking down at you with one hand brushing hair behind your ear and the other tracing your collarbone.

“I might just have to-” the whole scene radiated lust until a voice like knives scratching a plate broke in.

“Oh god so it’s true, Sherlock Holmes has a (Y/G)friend” Anderson was leaning on the doorframe with an angry looking Donovan at his side. This day was suddenly getting worse and worse by the minute.

“Anderson, how awful of you to say hi now if you could scuttle along I’m doing the work you can’t handle.” Sherlock walked up and slammed the door in his face. Sighing as he walked back to the corpse, suddenly being at home didn’t seem like such a boring thing anymore.

“What do you think?” After five minutes of silence you decided it was time to butt in.

“Not entirely sure, based on the other victims the only things these people have in common are being dumped in the same spot.”

“Dumped? Oh mean they weren’t killed here?”

“No there’s far too little mess to be killed here and no smell of chemicals which means the killer didn’t clean, so they killed and put the body here but why?” He had his thinking face, the one where even if you spoke to him he wouldn’t hear because he was lost in his mind palace trying to figure out the mystery. You were starting to get bored and cold, it was the middle of the night in November but the thin jacket you randomly grabbed was not doing any good. You opened the door to see if it were warmer outside than in and it was considerably. Apparently this was enough to break sherlock a focus because you felt a weight on your shoulders that could only be his signature coat.

“Did you solve it already?”

“Yes, now come on this is no place for a date” you snuggled up underneath his arm and grinned when you saw Donovan, Anderson, and Lestrade’s faces as you two walked out the door. Days have their ups and downs, but this one had many ups and more to come throughout the night.

Jealousy

L x reader

aaaaand I am going to regret this tomorrow morning so I’m hiding it away in my queue… I mean, it’s not like the Death Note fandom is all still that much alive…? Ugh, I wrote this like two freakin months ago and each time I go back I hate it a bit more. So let’s get certain things out of the way: first of thanks to my real life friend whom beta-read it for me and thanks to @12infamous, whom I forced to read it for me. I didn’t have anyone whose first language is English to read it for me so… Second, as usual, Y/N is for your name BUT F/N is for FAKE NAME, since the reader is someone on the taks force and all; and it’s also supposed to be about a week or two after Misa’s and Light’s “Date” in episode 18. So yeah… If any of you like it please just tell me?

Enjoy!


Sitting on the couch, quietly sipping her coffee, Y/N was at loss. On her left was sitting the only other woman living in the building, while facing her was her boyfriend, handcuffed to their #1 suspect for the current case. To begin with, Y/N was far from a fan of the idea of sitting there for at least an hour, doing nothing but staring at the two young men in front of her, with her most serious look, simply to make sure they wouldn’t start fighting once again. Of course, Misa wasn’t at all happy with this fact either, as Light clearly wished his forced date to be over with. Actually, the more time passed, the more it became clear to Y/N that L was probably the only one who enjoyed himself to some extent. And of course he did, since someone (who knows who it was, the slices were simply sitting on the table when they came in) brought cake for everyone.

“And why did she had to come?” complained the blond on her left, giving an annoyed look to Y/N, “As if having you with us wasn’t enough…”

“I’ve got to say I’m in total agreement with you Misa,” sighed Y/N, turning to her, “but someone’s got to be here to stop these idiots from fighting…”

The first one simply sighed, reaching for her coffee.

“It’s not as if it was my choice to be handcuffed either…” added Light, leaning against the back of the couch as he crossed his legs.

Silence arose in the room, only interrupted by the quiet noises of someone sipping their coffee and the light sound of a fork hitting the plate as L ate his cake at an almost alarming pace.

“F/N… Where do you come from?” asked Misa, turning to her.

Shooting a quick look to the man facing her, as if to ask whether or not she should tell this kind of information to one of the suspects, the young woman sighed.

“I was born and raised in England,” she carefully said.

“Did you left anyone back there?” questioned once again the younger woman, tilting her head to the side.

“Yes.”

“Then why did you came to Japan for the investigation?” This time it was Light’s turn to ask, intrigued as to why someone who clearly hadn’t be called on the case by anyone, came anyway.

“Well…” started Y/N, turning to him “Mostly to annoy my boyfriend…” she smiled lightly. “He would have rather seen me staying home.”

“F/N! You’ve got a boyfriend?!” exclaimed Misa, surprised by the fact.

Of course. None of them knew because “safety”. Telling their prime suspects of her boyfriend was already a mistake in itself: the first thing Y/N and L had agreed when she came was “no mentions of your relationship with anyone, no mentions of our friends back in England, your family, and even less our own relation.” The young man had been clear, especially on that last fact. That and “Don’t ever give your real name to anyone.”

And that was her first slip off. Knowing the young idol, Y/N was sure to be showered with questions on her partner.

“Yes,” she turned to the blond, “Why, do I look like the forever-single type?” she laughed.

“No! That’s not what I meant!” defended Misa, shaking her head.

“I’ve got to admit I’m surprised he let you go on such a dangerous investigation…” added Light, “We’re talking of a man who only needs a name and a face to kill, after all…”

Y/N smiled to herself. “I didn’t really give him the choice either.”

“How is he? What’s his job? How did you met? I want to know everything!”

And here were Misa’s questions…

Hidden being her cup as she drank some of her coffee, Y/N took advantage of the short instant where her expression wasn’t visible and made eye contact with the detective facing her.

“Well…” she started, her own eyes still locked into L’s grey ones, “We met at Uni,” she broke the eye contact to turn to Misa. “He was always a bit odd and as curious as I am, I just went and… befriended him, I guess,” she shrugged, “I took time but in the end he opened up to me and we started dating after a few months.”

“This is so sweet!” exclaimed the actress, clasping her hands together. “Does he know you’re the only woman in the group?”

“Of course, he does! I couldn’t possibly keep this from him…” answered the Y/N.

“And do you think he might be jealous?”

“Jealous?” she laughed, “I don’t know, but maybe he should…” she took a sip, “I mean… Matsuda for one…” she looked at L, who seemed more and more absorbed by his dessert, “He’s far from the idiot he might look like and he’s not someone I’d complain about the look either.” She placed her cup back on the table, “If he were to come up to me and ask me out…”

The sudden screeching noise of a fork scratching a plate cut her mid-sentence, surprising everyone in the room, as the dark-haired detective picked his slice of cake with said fork, a bit too abruptly.

Well, if she wanted to make him jealous, Y/N could now rest assure of the fact her boyfriend indeed now was.

Glancing at the clock, she sighed.

“It’s already been an hour…” she shook her head, “I don’t want to break it to you guys, but we’ve got to go back to work.”

“I guess so…” said Light, raising from their couch and stretching. “It was nice spending some time with you Misa.”

“Can’t you stay a bit more? You never have time for me.” complained Light’s “girlfriend” “I miss you…”

“It’s not as if you too never see each other.” Mumbled L, standing up, his empty plate now on the table. “Besides, we already have another “date” scheduled by the end of this week.”

“It’s not as if we really let them have some alone time either, Ryuzaki,” pointed out his girlfriend, now at the door. “Next time you should maybe take off your handcuffs for once and watch over with cameras. At least it’ll give them an impression of intimacy,’ she suggested. “Anyway, later, Misa.”

With that, she opened the door and left.

“See you next week,” said Light, as L started dragging him out of the room, mumbling to himself.

——————————~☆☆☆~——————————–

Back into the surveillance room, Y/N was already at her computer, going through some old record tapes. On the opposite side of the room, working on his computer, Matsuda kept glancing at her, then back at his screen, then at her, then back at his screen, and so on, a small smile on his lips. Beside him, Light’s father was reading some old reports on their case, hoping to find new evidences leading to Kira.

As soon as the two young men entered the room, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to them, waiting for orders. Still dragging his suspect, L directly went to the sole woman in the room, lightly tapping her shoulder.

“Yes?” she asked, turning to him.

Leaning in, L pressed his lips against hers, as she almost instinctively placed a hand on his chin, ardently kissing him back.

Everyone stared at them, in complete and utter shock, as Light just didn’t knew where to place himself, kept close to the couple by his handcuffs.

Too bad for the whole “keeping-their-relationship-secret-to-everyone” thing now, since L was almost pinning Y/N against her desk, kissing her with all the passion and desire he had kept locked tightly in himself for all these months, tired of this mascarade, tired of pretending to only be acquaintance with her.

Raising his right hand to play with her hair, his movement was stopped mid-way by the handcuff, the light clicking of the chain bringing the couple back to reality, as their eyes snapped opened.

They slowly pulled away, releasing the other one from their embrace, already missing the contact of the other one’s skin against theirs.

Turning to Matsuda, L send him a clear message through his otherwise rather emotionless eyes, Y/N was his, and no one else’s.

And without any words, the dark haired detective went to his own seat, dragging Light along, as Y/N turned back to her screen, carrying her work, quickly imitated by everyone else, as they were still trying to figure out what exactly had happened.

First Time On The Job

Title: First Time On The Job
Summary:
You accompany Sherlock for the first time to a case and tensions run high when you also meet Anderson and Donovan for the first time
Author: Ash @bigblackchickens
Words: 835
Characters/Relationships: Sherlock x Reader
Warnings: None

—————————————————–

You and Sherlock had gotten the call from Lestrade only a few minutes earlier, already out the door and hailing a cab. It’d been near a month since your last case and Sherlock was going mad always complaining about boredom and being sober. Lestrade called Sherlock about a serial killer, being himself he sprung into action at the thought of such a case, and by the time he told you he was ready to walk out the door.

“So what is this case exactly? You only told me this would be ‘so much fun’ and stormed out.”

“A serial killer, oh how I’ve been waiting- are you excited? You don’t seem excited how could not be?” You’d never seen Sherlock in such an ecstatic state, but you’d also never worked on a serial killer with him.

“Oh no I’m excited, just… curious.” You didn’t want to say worried but you also didn’t want to say happy, so you found the middle man at curious.

Getting to the scene only took ten minutes and it almost bothered you that someone had been brutally murdered so close to you home. That is until you were rudely greeted by Sally Donovan at the police tape, not a very good first encounter. “And who is this?” Only a handful of words and you knew you hated her.

“A coll- uh-” never before had you seen the great Sherlock Holmes stumble over his words.

“(Y/G)friend. I’m his (Y/G)friend.” Beaming proudly at being able to officially call yourself Sherlock Holmes’s (Y/G)friend. On top of that you saw Sherlock blushing, this day was getting better and better until she spoke.

“And how much is he paying a street walker like you to say that?” With murder in your heart, rage in your veins, and a calm mask you convinced yourself you didn’t want to go to prison tonight for murder.

“I’m sorry but the last time I checked you were the side whore in Anderson’s marriage, no? Sweetie if I were you I wouldn’t be talking very much, seems the only good thing your mouth can do is cheat.”

“Oh really you want to fu-” poised and ready to strike, Lestrade jumped in before anyone had to be arrested.

“Sherlock, glad you could make it. Let me show you to the scene. Donovan go cool off,” after a few odd glances and a set of stares Lestrade spoke again,“ so, uh, are you two- uh I mean is this-”

“Yes Lestrade and if you could stop tripping over your words I need to think” Sherlock glared at the detective until he was out of sight, then turning his attention towards you, “Y/N that wasn’t very nice.”

“Oh whatever she had it coming” you retorted to his childish comment. Sherlock pulled you closer, looking down at you with one hand brushing hair behind your ear and the other tracing your collarbone.

“I might just have to-” the whole scene radiated lust until a voice like knives scratching a plate broke in.

“Oh god so it’s true, Sherlock Holmes has a (Y/G)friend” Anderson was leaning on the door frame with an angry looking Donovan at his side. This day was suddenly getting worse and worse by the minute.

“Anderson, how awful of you to say hi now if you could scuttle along I’m doing the work you can’t handle.” Sherlock walked up and slammed the door in his face. Sighing as he walked back to the corpse, suddenly being at home didn’t seem like such a boring thing anymore.

“What do you think?” After five minutes of silence you decided it was time to butt in.

“Not entirely sure, based on the other victims the only things these people have in common are being dumped in the same spot.”

“Dumped? Oh mean they weren’t killed here?”

“No there’s far too little mess to be killed here and no smell of chemicals which means the killer didn’t clean, so they killed and put the body here but why?” He had his thinking face, the one where even if you spoke to him he wouldn’t hear because he was lost in his mind palace trying to figure out the mystery. 

You were starting to get bored and cold, it was the middle of the night in November but the thin jacket you randomly grabbed was not doing any good. You opened the door to see if it were warmer outside than in and it was considerably. Apparently this was enough to break Sherlock’s focus because you felt a weight on your shoulders that could only be his signature coat.

“Did you solve it already?” 

“Yes, now come on this is no place for a date” you snuggled up underneath his arm and revelled when you saw Donovan, Anderson, and Lestrade’s surprised faces as you two walked out the door. Days have their ups and downs, but this one had many ups and more to come throughout the night.

A sleek, expensive, modern state-of-the-art femme bot whose human is a rich fat cat who treats her like an object, like a pretty piece of decoration. She feels worthless because of this, and believes him. But then robots are granted human rights and the rich asshole has to release her since owning a robot now counts as slavery. She doesn’t want to go at first, thinking she really is worthless without him, but another robot convinces her that she is her own person and isn’t just a pretty accessory of him. She sells her expensive spare parts, buys a repair shop and starts working patching up robots. She gets dirt and muck and engine grease on her shiny white chassis, scratches up her sleek plating, replaces her delicate hands with sturdier ones when they break, maybe even finds a nice human to love. And she’s smiling and happy.

“Rejection”; Chapter Twelve

NOTES: Extra long chapter today to make up for the wait. No swears, and… well, you’ll find out for yourself towards the end of the chapter.  (▰˘◡˘▰) (=゚ω゚)ノ

______________________________________________________________                                           

                                             (The next morning…)

You awoke at around 9:30 to the scent of something sweet. Rubbing the crust from around your eyelids and ruffling your hair, you saw Papyrus setting something down on the kitchen table. It appeared to be… spaghetti. You frowned, and sat up straight. The tall skeleton must have saw your sudden movement, as he rushed over to you. He sat down on the floor beside you, booming out a hello.

You covered your ears, wincing from the loud noise. “GOOD MORNING, SLEEPY HEAD!” Papyrus chuckled, and cocked his head to the side. You smiled from his goofiness, and stretched. None of your bones popped, which irritated you, but it didn’t last long. “Hey there, Paps.” You yawned mid-sentence, and scratched your shoulders. Papyrus’s happy demeanor faltered for a second, and he fiddled with his gloved thumbs.

“HUMAN, I AM SORRY THAT I MADE YOU CRY LAST NIGHT. I HEATED UP SOME LEFTOVER PASTA TO MAKE YOU HAPPY!” He lowered his head the same a puppy would do when being yelled at, and your brain ached. Oh yeah. I’d completely forgotten. I don’t think I had any dreams last night either; except for one part where I was in the Arctic, freezing, and a warm breeze passed over me to keep me warm. Weird. It felt real…

You reached out a hand, and massaged the innocent skeleton’s skull lovingly. “Oh, Papyrus. I could never stay mad at you!” Papyrus jumped up into the air, and scooped you up into his arms. You braced yourself for the spinning, but instead Papyrus settled back down onto the couch behind you and embraced your body tightly. “THANK YOU, FRIEND (Nickname)! I CANNOT IMAGINE GOING ON WITH MY DAY KNOWING THAT YOU WERE STILL UPSET!”

You felt a tear streak down your cheek at his worry, and squeezed him back hard. “Papyrus, I will always be your friend. Don’t you ever forget that.” You whispered by his face where his ears should be, and felt his cheekbones warm with pure joy. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, until he reached for your blanket and laid it atop your lap. He scooched from out under you, and handed you the remote.

“YOU WAKE UP EARLY COMPARED TO MY BROTHER, (Nickname).” Papyrus mentioned, and an idea occurred to you. “What time do you wake up?” You asked, and Papyrus struck a heroic pose. “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WAKE UP AT 6 O'CLOCK SHARP.” Your jaw dropped, and wrinkled your nose. “Why?” You laughed, when his eye sockets bulged slightly.

“DON’T ALL HUMANS WAKE UP AT THE SAME TIME THE GREAT PAPYRUS DOES?” He inquired, and you shook your head. “As you can probably see…” You gestured to yourself, “…that is not true.” You giggled, and Papyrus brought a hand up around his chin. “INTERESTING… FRISK IS AN EARLY RISER LIKE I AM. PERHAPS YOU ARE SPECIAL HUMAN, (Nickname).” You blushed at his compliment (was it a compliment?) and waved a hand at him.

“Hey, what can I say? I’m a night owl.” You shrugged, and Papyrus made a bewildered expression. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE A HUMAN!!” It took you a second to figure out what he meant by that, and when you did, you burst out into laughter. The walls reflected the loud noise, and Papyrus started yelling at you to calm down. “I’M SO CONFUSED!!!” He shouted, and started flailing his arms about like an idiot.

You only laughed harder, and plopped flat onto the floor. Papyrus stopped his crazed running around, and threw you on top of his shoulders. “(Nickname)!! EXPLAIN YOUR RACE!” You wiped a tear, not even minding how strong this guy must have been in order to pick you up so fast like that. “It’s a figure of speech, Paps. I’m a human; when I say I’m a ‘night owl’, that means I like to stay up later than most.”

The skeleton pondered for a moment, and then started chuckling. The rattling of his laughs made you bounce slightly, causing you to wrap your arms around his neck for safety. “OH! THEN MY BROTHER MUST BE AN OWL TOO. HE SELDOM GOES TO HIS ROOM EARLY; MAINLY BECAUSE HE HAS TO READ ME MY BEDTIME STORY.” You recalled how he told Frisk that same bit of information, making you smiled.

“IT’S CALLED-” “-Tales of the Fluffy Bunny?” You finished his sentence for him; he looked up towards you, smiling wide. “HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT, HUMAN?” You flinched, reminding yourself that around Papyrus you had to keep your mouth shut. “U-uh, you told me last night while making dinner! Remember?’

He frowned, and narrowed his eyes at the messed up couch. “HMM… I THINK I DO. BUT, ANYWAYS, LET’S GO EAT THAT DELICIOUS BREAKFAST THAT I HEATED UP JUST FOR YOU!” Papyrus cheered, and took off towards the kitchen. You clung to his scarf, and froze. “Wait, Papyrus-! I’m not gonna fit through the-” Your head clunked painfully against the entryway, and you slipped off of the younger brother’s shoulders.

You fell to the ground hard, and cried out when your spine landed first. You shrunk into the fetal position, and Papyrus spun around quickly. “OH MY GOD!! DEAR (Nickname), ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! I AM SO SORRY!! HOLD ON, LEMME GET SOME HEALING SPAGHETTI-” You cringed at the thought of him pouring spaghetti on you while you mentally screamed in agony. Hair was stuck in your mouth, so you spat it out grossly.

Dear God… I’m about to fall victim to a pasta avalanche. Papyrus came out from the kitchen, and held your breakfast up in the air. He had a fork clutched in the other glove, and you widened your eyes. “HERE YOU GO! THIS SHOULD FIX YOU RIGHT UP!” He fret, and you wrapped your hands around your head, preparing for the attack. Just as you could hear the fork scratching against the plate, a voice called out from above the stairway.

“woah, woah, woah! paps, what are you doing?!

                                          (About a half hour earlier…)

Sans opened his eye sockets slowly and took in a deep breath from his nasal cavity. A distant noise had disrupted him from his slumber, and it annoyed him greatly. He glared at the clock on his desk across the room, and growled. 9:34. seriously? this is probably the earliest i’ve woken up in a long time. He sat up on his mattress, and cracked his bones tiredly. The loud vibrations bouncing off his door continued, and it almost sounded like...laughter.

Not bothering to get dressed, Sans slipped on his slippers and passed his treadmill. Santa had gotten it for him as a Christmas present a couple of months ago, or whenever the first reset was. He rest a hand on the doorknob, and ignored the dog flying around in his self-sustaining tornado.

The noise was indeed laughter, he confirmed, but it sounded nothing like his brother’s. It was a little deeper, but not much. It made Sans’ hand tremble on the brass, from either anxiety or nerves. The door creaked open, and the noise stopped. He yawned, and scratched his sternum. An emptiness grew inside his ribs at the void of the sudden laughter that made his pulse rise quickly.

He peered over the stairwell, and smiled when he saw Papyrus messing around with someone. Sans squinted, and realized it was (Y/N). He remembered everything that happened the day before, and was shocked how Frisk still hadn’t reset yet. It’d been a few days since the kid moved back in with Toriel, and befriended all the monsters Underground.

A weight fell upon his shoulders from all the information he now has to deal with and try to comprehend that was given to him from the new human yesterday. His grin fell into a frown, and he shut his eyes. (y/n) said that our entire world is a videogame. got it. she also mentioned that she practically knows everything, except for this timeline. she apparently has a very unique soul; one that does not remain the same color or dominant personality trait.

He rubbed his temples frustratingly, but relaxed when he heard Papyrus say something about “breakfast”. Sans opened his eye sockets just as (Y/N) collided with the top part of the doorway to the kitchen; he practically jumped a foot into the air from shock. Sans winced as she hit the ground with an “oomph!”, and curled up into a ball. He waited to see if Papyrus would check for any injuries, pick her up and lay her on the green couch on which she slept, or perhaps even take her hand and-

“OH MY GOD!! DEAR (Nickname), ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! I AM SO SORRY!! HOLD ON, LEMME GET SOME HEALING SPAGHETTI-” Papyrus nearly shrieked, and ran into the room beside him. Sans just watched in confusion from his brother’s choice of action, but made no move to teleport by (Y/N) to make sure she was okay.

However, when he saw how Papyrus was about to dump some “healing spaghetti” onto the wounded human, Sans decided to intervene. “woah, woah, woah! paps, what are you doing?!” Sans shouted, but not so loud that Papyrus would think that he was angry at him again. Sans ran down the stairs, and slid across the carpet next to (Y/N).

He held his hands up in the air, ready to flip the girl and look her over. “I-I WAS JUST PLAYING WITH (Nickname) HERE AND SHE FELL OFF MY SHOULDERS! I THOUGHT THAT SINCE THE PASTA TASTED REALLY GOOD, IT WOULD HEAL HER TOO-” Papyrus stammered, freaking out a little at (Y/N)’s almost unconscious body. Sans grabbed her bicep gently and tugged to see her face.

She laid still, but was groaning under her breath at the welt that was sure to appear on her forehead. Sans sucked in a breath through his teeth upon seeing a large bruise already starting to form above her right eyebrow, and forced himself to remain calm when blood seeped out of the left gash. “paps, use your magic on her.” Sans commanded tenderly, and Papyrus kneeled down across from Sans quickly.

“WHAT SPELL?” He asked, and Sans tripped over his own words. “i-i dunno; the one you used when i broke my finger the other day.” Papyrus nodded, and waved his hands just above her big glasses. Sans wasn’t one for learning healing magic; all his life he was trained to use blue magic, the kinds of spells and summonings for attacks and destruction only.

Meanwhile, on the other hand, Paps was really good at treating illnesses and fixing things. There was no way his magic could rival Toriel’s; she was practically the master of all things medicine and curing. But while Tori was far away from most towns to help sick subjects, Papyrus was always there when someone needed him. He could run very fast, as his legs were practically four feet long, which was an attribute Sans did not have.

Sans was not meant for taking hits, as he had very little HP and a low attack stat, but that didn’t mean he was weak. In fact, Sans was probably the strongest and scariest monster there is in the Underground. He’s right up there next to Asriel Dreemur in his godly form; proving that whenever Chara possesses Frisk and goes through the Genocide route, it’s going to take an insane amount of time and skill in order to beat him.

Sans’ endurance in battle is amazing; most would think that the bigger and bulkier you are, the more of a chance that you’ll win in battle. At least, that’s what the Underground’s mindset was. This is why people always underestimated Sans; because he wasn’t bulky, and he most definitely wasn’t a big bad-ass Boss Monster with a huge reputation. If only people saw what his true capabilities were when he needed to dunk a certain demon wreaking havoc to all monsterkind.

Normally, Sans was a lazy skeleton who enjoyed ketchup and making puns all day. But when you take away his most valued and prized possession, you might as well just give up completely. Because that possession was Papyrus, the only family he has left and the only thing he has to live for whilst dealing with his depression.

After a few silent minutes of Papyrus working away and doing his thing, (Y/N)’s eyelids fluttered open. The blood on her face had evaporated into thin air, and the bruise on her forehead had disappeared back into her tan skin. She also noticed that the pain in her spine had gone away, too. Sans breathed a sigh of relief, and sat back onto his heels. Papyrus wiped the sweat beads that formed on his skull away, and looked down at (Y/N).

She groaned softly, and blinked when she saw the two skeletons above her. “What is it with you two making me hit my forehead on stuff?” She chuckled, and bringing a hand up to her hairline. When she brushed it back, Sans smiled at the genius joke that popped into his mind. “i guess papyrus was getting a little a-head of himself.” Sans smiled when his bro glared and reprimanded him.

“I SWEAR TO ASGORE SANS, IF YOU START WITH THAT NONSENSE I’M DISOWNING YOU.” Papyrus mumbled, and (Y/N) giggled. Sans was glad to see that she was already feeling better. “sorry, i didn’t mean to make that as-gorey as it came out. maybe a less bloody joke will help lighten the mood.” Sans chuckled deeply, and his ribs rattled softly. (Y/N) laughed a little louder, and Papyrus shot up immediately.

“THAT’S IT! YOU ARE NO LONGER RELATED TO ME.” Papyrus stormed out of the living room, taking the plate of spaghetti with him. Sans sighed happily, and turned his attention to the clock above the TV. 10:02. “wow, time sure does fly when you’re making puns.” Sans looked back down to (Y/N), who was trying to sit up.

When she let out a cry, Sans’ smile dropped. “hey, take it easy pal. i know paps’ magic is pretty awesome, but that doesn’t mean you should be making any sudden movements so soon.” She grinned sweetly, and nodded. “I thought the phrase was, ‘time flies when you’re having fun’?” Sans raised his non existent eyebrows, and thought to himself. He shrugged, and winked playfully at her.

“it is, but i don’t think that getting injured is much fun. unless to you it is, which i can respect. a bit masochistic, but i’ll accept it.” He said nonchalantly, and (Y/N) rolled her eyes back. “Touche.” She laughed again, and went quiet. She stared down at her clothes, then brought her attention back up to Sans.

“So…am I just gonna lay here until Papyrus’s magic settles, or…?” Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip. The way she looked at that moment with her all messed up and long eyelashes batting slowly towards him made his soul jump unexpectedly. An idea came to his mind, and he thought it would work fine.

“nah. here, lemme help you over to the couch.” Sans leaned over, and curled his arms under (Y/N)’s back. She gulped, and let out a nervous yelp. Sans stood up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck like she had done to Papyrus’s scarf. “S-S-Sans!! What are you doing?!” Her face turned beet red, and the skeleton chuckled. His own cheekbones released a light blue tint, and his eye flared softly.

As he walked her over to the couch, Papyrus peeked from around the corner and saw what was happening. He saw both of their expressions, and smiled devilishly from his spot in the kitchen. He knew something had been off with Sans ever since (Y/N) arrived, and was sure to talk to him about it later in private.

FIRST

PREVIOUS

NEXT

Chapter Ten (Where all the chapters before that are.)

Chapter Twenty (Links for Chapters 11 –> 19)

2

A Guide to Murdoc’s bass, El Diablo (per ROTO). Anyone who’s skimmed through Rise of the Ogre has likely seen the two page spread devoted to explaining every detail pertaining to the make up and quality of Murdoc’s bass (props to him for taking the time to get to know his instrument so well). There are quite a few notable features (like, who knew it was stained in otter’s blood??). I haven’t seen a post that’s adapted it to Tumblr just yet so I thought I’d give it a go. Key listed below the cut:

Keep reading

Corso almost didn’t see her when he walked into the office in the warehouse. She was sitting on a crate against the wall, knees pulled to her chest, looking very lost in thought. He coordinated with his man Reiki, making sure the supplies they got went where they were needed. How many times did he fantasize about seeing her again? That her dying was just a bad dream? That any moment he would wake up on the freighter, look over in the bed and there she was. He spent too many nights after she went down with that ship staring at her side of the bed. It had only taken a few days for her scent to fade from the pillows, but when it did, it felt like he had lost her all over again.

With a sigh, he stood in front of her, looking down at her until she realized he was there.

“Hey, Corso.” She said but he didn’t say anything in return. Turning, he walked away and he heard her shuddering sigh behind him. She was hurting, too.

“Cyar’iva.” He said, stopping a ways from her and she looked up at him, her lilac eyes shiny with unshed tears. Fully aware of the people watching them, he widestanced his legs and dropped into a short squat, patting his thighs and beckoning her with his fingers. “Come on.” Her smile was slow and she hopped off the crate, running and jumping, wrapping her legs around his waist. She still weighed close to nothing and he adjusted his hold on her as he looked up at her.

Her fingertips touched his face gently, running over a small scar cutting through his brow and tracing the line of his nose as if she were familiarizing herself with him again.

“So, I’m guessing you two know each other already.” Reiki said but they didn’t look at him.

“Reiki, everyone, I want you to meet Cyar’iva Ryderius-Riggs. My wife.” Corso said, “We’re going to need the room.” No one questioned it, leaving the two alone and closing the door behind them. When they were gone, he walked them over to the table, setting her down so she was sitting on the edge. “You were gone, Cyar’iva, you were dead.”

“I’m so sorry, Corso.” She said, “Arcann froze me in carbonite for five years, Lana Beniko unfroze me, but there was just no time to…I didn’t know where you were, how to get in contact with you. If you were even still…”

“Losing you hurt more than when I lost my family. You were my family, you were everything to me, and you were gone. You made me a liar.” She gave him a questioning look, “My vow to you when we got married, do you remember it?”

I swear to spend my life protecting your body, honoring your spirit, and respecting your mind.” She said, recalling the words he spoke to her perfectly.

“I left you, I failed to protect you, and you died.” He said, “I should’ve…I should’ve been there with you, shouldn’t’ve left when you told me to.”

“Corso, he would have killed you.” Cyar’iva said, “Valkorion would have killed you. I watched Darth Marr die, and I would’ve watched you die, too.”

His hands pressed flat into the table as he leaned into her, her own hands sliding down to his chest, moving over the scratched and dented plates of his armor. Her eyes were just as violet as he remembered as he looked into them and she gasped as he kissed her, pressing back against him. He had forgotten how she tasted, how her lips felt as they moved against his, as they moved against each other.

“Corso…” She whispered as he pulled back, lungs burning as he pulled air into them. Her fingertips curled into the edges of his armor and she pulled him back in, kissing him with an intensity that made him feel like he was going to burst into flames. Corso wanted to explore her again, take his time with her, relearn every dip and curve of her body and what made her writhe and gasp. Not here though, and his makeshift quarters in the Fort were no where near sufficient, even if they were mostly private. He wanted her on a real bed, not a sleeping mat. “The freighter is outside Drelliad.” She said when he pulled away again. “That warehouse where we first met, do you remember it?”

“I do.” He said, making the trek in his mind. It seemed a whole planet away. “Wait, you got the freighter?”

“Alliance found her sealed up in a hangar on Port Nowhere, brought her to Odessen.” She said, “Was that you?”

“It was Risha’s idea.” He said, “Didn’t feel right flying her around without you.”

“Thank you.” She said and he gave her a soft smile, pressing his lips to hers in a softer kiss.

“You’re really alive.” He said after a moment of silence and pulled her close, her arms going around his neck as he buried his face in hers. Corso never thought he’d be able to do this again, hold her in his arms, warm and alive. “I love you, Cyar’iva, I never stopped.”

“I love you too, Corso.”

tivafan-yupthatsme  asked:

23 Tiva.

23. things you said before everything went to shit


“I didn’t want this to happen, you know,” Tony said softly across the table as his fork scratched against his dinner plate. She was so distant, so closed off, and he hated that this had happened to them. The gulf between them felt endless, the paperwork on the counter seeming to taunt him from its resting place, the word hovering over him like a dark cloud threatening its downpour.

“I know,” she said regretfully, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked again, not wanting to say the word. The fact that papers existed was bad enough; he didn’t want to speak the ugly truth out loud.

“No,” she said softly, again with regret, her eyes flitting downward.

“Then… why?” he asked, not blinking when she lifted her head up again, her sorrowful gaze meeting his, giving him full insight to the deep pain she felt.

“Look at us, Tony. We cannot go more than ten minutes without wanting to kill each other. I cannot live like this,” she replied. They’d been married for six months now and it had been harder than either of them had thought to face each other’s demons and make a marriage and a life.

“But you love me,” he supplied.

“It is not that simple.”

“It is that simple,” he insisted.

“Tony,” she breathed, her voice speaking his name sounding like a prayer even now, even when it was all falling apart.

“Ziva,” he pleaded.

She shook her head, looking down at her half-eaten dinner. “Everything’s fucked up,” she said, use of the expletive a jarring reminder that this was not who they were, that this was not what they had wanted.

“I know,” he said with a low chuckle, trying desperately to keep things light.

Ziva smiled sadly, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Everyone said we were destined to last. Forever. Soulmates.”

“You’re still my forever. You’re still my soulmate,” he insisted, wanting to reach across and touch her, to squeeze her hand and pour his heart into her.

“But we cannot…” she said, unable to finish her sentence, instead swallowing the lump that had begun to form in he throat. Dammit, she thought to herself, because she had not wanted to cry.

“We can,” he replied, his words coming our more forcefully than he’d anticipated. When she didn’t answer, he looked at her, his gaze piercing hers across the gap between them. “Do you love me?”

“Yes,” she said softly, her heart aching at the word. Yes, of course she loved him, she had always loved him. She always would love him.

“Then we have to try, because I have never loved anyone like I love you. You’re it. You’re the only one.” He spoke softly, his words impactful enough on their own, but he sighed softly before adding, “I won’t live without you.”

“Sometimes love is not enough,” she replied, a tear finally rolling down her cheek and falling to the table.

“Ziva, please don’t do this,” he begged, wishing she would see that they had to try. They had to. It would kill him to lose her now, after everything they’d been through together.

“I’m pregnant, Tony,” she said with a sniffle, her hand falling protectively to her stomach to cradle the life she had only recently learned was there.

He opened his mouth in surprise, his eyes shining with tears; he hadn’t known he could still cry. “And you want to split up?”

“A baby will not save our marriage,” she replied, closing her eyes tightly against her own tears.

“But we can,” he said softly, imploringly. “We can save it, Ziva.”

She didn’t respond, and he wished desperately that he could go to her, to hold her gently in his arms, to touch her skin and wipe away her tears, to smooth her hair, to touch her stomach.

“You’re really pregnant?” he asked, his face lighting up slightly. 

Not trusting herself to speak, she merely nodded, gazing into his eyes and wishing things could be different. That this child could have two parents who not only loved each other, but who could live together and build a home and a life together.

“Well I’m never letting you leave me now,” he decided, finally standing up and walking toward her, taking her hand in his. She didn’t pull away.

“Letting me?” she said, her eyes narrowing.

“I know you will do what you want to do… you always have, but Ziva,” he breathed, reaching his hand to tentatively reach out and touch her, to feel the space where their child - their love - sat growing comfortably inside her womb.

“What, Tony?” she asked, wiping away her own tear as she sucked in a breath at the contact. How good it felt to have him touching her, even with everything between them. She craved his touch, his love.

“We gotta try. Not just for the kid. For us,” he said, his head nodding as he punctuated the statement. Couldn’t she see? They needed each other more now than ever.

“I have tried,” she insisted. They had fought, they had argued, and then they would make up with explosive sex and a few days later all their problems would come back - no matter how great the sex was, a marriage could not be built on it alone.

“Harder. No one said it wouldn’t be hard. And you’re the only thing I’ve got worth fighting for.”

“Tony,” she said, leaning back, her expression doubtful.

“It’s true,” he said, then rubbed her stomach lightly. “Or… it was,” he added. Because now he was willing to fight for the both of them.

“We’re a fucked up mess,” she said softly, jarring him again with her language. Ziva was vocal and quite liberal with the profanity in the bedroom, but she rarely used swear words in every day conversation.

But despite it all, she seemed to be relenting, if only slightly. Maybe it was his touch, his words. “But you’ll try?”

She turned her head slightly, gazing into his eyes and speaking softly. “I have never loved anybody but you,” she said, reaching for his face and cupping his cheek in her hand. He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and reveling in the feel of her - of her reaching for him, touching him.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, his eyes opening to meet hers, betraying his hopefulness.

“It’s a… maybe,” she said softly, caressing his lips with her thumb. God, how she loved touching him. How she loved him.

“A ‘maybe’ just means you haven’t given up completely,” he said softly, feeling his heart soar at the thought that she was willing to try, for them. She didn’t speak, and he breathed in the moment, reveling in the small step that they had taken together. Small or large, steps forward would only make them stronger, and maybe their love could survive.

“I’ll always love you, no matter what,” he said softly, wishing desperately that she would lean down and kiss him, but it was probably too much for him to hope for right now.

“And so will I,” she said softly, pulling his head to her chest and letting her tears finally fall, cradling the one man she loved close to her heart and holding on for dear life.


I am cleaning out my inbox. Please do not send me more prompts.

anonymous asked:

hows the ask meme working?? do we send a prompt and a ship or..? I am confused. But in any case....."Do you think I could eat thing entire thing in one sitting?" iwaoi omg!

it is a prompt and a ship (or just some characters), sorry for the confusion!


“Do you really think I could eat this entire thing in one sitting?” Oikawa asked, squinting up at Iwaizumi and motioning at the large piece of cake on the plate in front of him.

“Of course not. But I think we both can.” Iwaizumi sat down next to him, grabbing his own fork. “Besides, I made the cake from scratch.”

Oikawa grabbed the plate and slid it closer to himself. Iwaizumi baking was a rare occasion (unfortunately) but when he did, it was always amazing. “Get your own piece, then. This is mine.”

“You were just looking at me like I was crazy for giving you that big of a piece. Don’t be greedy, I want some too,” Iwaizumi argued, reaching for the plate only for Oikawa to move it away again.

“But Iwa-chan, you never bake, I wanna fully enjoy this,” Oikawa whined.

“But Tooru,” Iwaizumi whined in the same tone, mocking Oikawa. He took his chance at Oikawa’s moment of shock to break a bite off the cake with his fork and eat it. “I wanna enjoy it too.”

“Iwa-chan, that’s cheating!”

Iwaizumi smiled. “Not my fault you let yourself get distracted.”

Fight or Flight

ANONYMOUS SAID: HIIII. JUST ON EPISODE 8 OF MR ROBOT AND LOVIN’ IT SO FAR! I WANTED TO REQUEST A FIC :3 ELLIOT X READER, THEY’RE NEW COUPLES (NOT OFFICIAL) THE MONTH AFTER SHAYLA’S DEATH. READER SAYS SHE LOVES HIM, BUT HE BRUSHED IT OFF AND DOESN’T TALK MUCH ANYMORE. READER GETS HURT AND CONFRONTS. HE SAYS SHE DOESN’T UNDERSTAND HIM CAUSE SHE ISN’T A HACKER, BUT DARLENE DOES. ANGST. YOU DECIDE THE ENDING :P

This was really fun to write despite the sadness and anger I had to channel to get it just right and even then it wasnt right enough. I hope this is okay for you.
Thank you for your request!! I wrote this while listening to Landslide by Oh Wonder, if that means anything.

y/e/c- your eye color

Word Count: 1049

Elliot sat in your living room, elbows resting on his knees, watching you rush about the kitchen, flipping whatever was in the pan. He’d been staying here more since Shayla passed away, and you didn’t really blame him; she was his girlfriend, after all. Even if you didn’t know the girl that well you know she must’ve been special if she managed to get that close to Elliot.

The man was miserable, in worse condition than he was when you first met him. You were one of Shayla’s co-workers at Hill Country Barbeque. You two weren’t close by any means, but you hung out a few times after your shifts. When you first met Elliot you thought he was sketchy, not someone who you’d like to be around alone, but Shayla insisted that he was a sweetheart, that you just needed to get to know him. She was right.

You slid the spatula underneath of the omelet, and plopped it down onto a plate next to three strips of bacon. Your socked feet muffled the sounds of your footsteps as you padded back into the living room. “Here, eat something, please?” You sat on the sofa next to Elliot, your (y/e/c) eyes scanning the male sitting beside you. His movements were slow and methodical rather than the jerky and quick ones he made when you’d first met him. You offered a sad smile as he took the plate from you.

“None of your dishes match,” He said, eyeing the bits of plate showing from in between the food. “Why?” he jabbed at the omelet, fork scratching against the glass plate. He didn’t look at you as he spoke, his eyes glued to the plate like it was the most amazing thing he’d seen in years.

You offered a small shrug, rolling your eyes at his strange observation. “Because I’m poor and can’t afford matching Betty Crocker dinner sets,” You leaned back on the sofa, crossing one leg over the other as you turned the TV on with the remote. “Why’s it mean so much to you, Mister ‘I don’t own a matching bed set’ Alderson?” You quirked an eyebrow, head turned towards Elliot rather than to the screen. He didn’t answer after that, instead he just kept looking at the plate, taking small bites of food.

Elliot left after that, and you didn’t see him for a few days. Not until he asked to be buzzed into your apartment late one night. You weren’t asleep yet, but you were rather annoyed with having to get up after finding a comfy spot on the couch with your laptop. You pushed yourself up from the couch, and buzzed Elliot in. Soon enough you heard shoes clunking down the hallway, the same hurried pace as always. You unlocked the door seconds before Elliot walked in, not bothering to knock. He never did, it was either he stood outside waiting until you opened the door, or he walked in.

The latter of the two had certainly embarrassed both of you on numerous occasions; the first time you’d been vacuuming the floor, dancing and singing to whatever song was playing. You didn’t really know the words, just sang what you thought they were, doing a silly little dance with the vacuum-cleaner. The second time you were getting ready for work, button up shirt undone, and pants halfway on when Elliot barged in.

You hardly had time to step away from the door when Elliot began to pace your apartment, hands traveling up from his hoodie pockets to his hair, and back down again. He sighed loudly, mumbling something under his breath. You couldn’t help but frown when you saw the distressed and panicked state he was in.

“It’s so…it’s so hard,” He said, turning to face you, tears threatening to spill from his blue-green eyes. Your chest tightened when you heard his voice crack ever-so-slightly. “I can’t do this, I’m crazy (Y/N), I’m losing my fucking shit.” His fists were balled up in his hoodie, nails digging into his palms.

You shook your head, taking time to swallow before you spoke. “You’re not, Elliot. I promise, you’re okay.”

That earned you a dry laugh, or something of the sort. It sounded more like a scoff than a laugh. “I think I’m pretty fucking far from okay.” He rubbed at his eyes with the backs of his hands, knuckles kneading into his cheekbones.

“That’s fine then, okay? It’s okay to not be at one-hundred percent all the time,” You took a tentative step towards Elliot, planting your right foot in front of your left softly and slowly. “You have people that love you, Elliot. Darlene loves you, Angela loves you, Flipper and Qwerty love you. I-I love you, Elliot.” This time it was your own voice that cracked, your eyes widened the moment the words escaped your lips.

He shook his head, untamed curls shifting slightly. “You don’t understand, (Y/N). You don’t understand any of this, any of me, okay? Angela doesn’t get it either. Darlene gets half of it, but she doesn’t count because…because she’s my sister!” He groaned, and wiped his lips on his sleeve. “I just kissed my fucking sister, (Y/N). I forgot Darlene I forgot everything.”

Another slow, careful step forward. An arm reaching out with a trembling hand. You’d talked to Darlene almost every day since the incident, you’d never asked what she was to him, that wasn’t any of your business. You didn’t think she was his sister, though. The two didn’t look that much alike at all. “I’m here for you, Elliot. I’ll always be here for you.” Your hand landed on his arm gently, waiting for him to back away from the touch. Your eyes scanned his face, spotting the hints of now healing bruises and scrapes.

He didn’t back away, he didn’t move your hand away, and he didn’t even look away from you. Instead of doing anything he normally would, he rested his head on your shoulder, arms snaking around your waist. You patted his back, fingers playing with the hair on the back of his head. He sighed, hot stream of air blowing against your skin as you felt him, Elliot Alderson-flight, fear, anxiety, terror, panic, melt into your each and every touch.

“saw this coming home from vacation in west virginia (which is already a liminal space might i add) and i wanted to know how it rated on the cursed scale. i scratched out the license plate for privacy and junk so don’t rate that part please” - @sinisterarrowraids

My oh my. A 7.8/10. My favorite part of this is the fact that it looks like it’s being taken mid-copchase. I can concur, WV is rather liminal, and there are few other places that I would believe this to happen. “Am you a fryromaniac?” is a very sinister question. Nice find!

Scientific Marvel | DirkHal | E

DirkHal robo-tentacle porn ft. asphyxiation. Inspired by our very own @mortior’s Endangered AU. Thanks for the nice setting for smut, friend.

Also written for The Interdimensional Lil Hal Appreciation Day. A noble effort inspired by the DirkHal gem otherwise known as @jaboody.

————————–

He’s a slithering mass of metal-plated tentacles above Dirk. Each one pulses with a deep, red glow that stripes along the appendages like the warning marks of a poisonous snake.

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thexdragonxbecomesxme  asked:

Kisses?

The cyborg is a sweetness adept at concealing his problems beneath a honey-dew tongue and sugary batted lashes on marred cheeks; he was a sweet scent to an omnic not easily dissuaded, where metal palms cup the marred flesh of cheeks. Zenyatta palms the soft flesh, there is happiness pulled at the corner of the others lips; it left Zenyatta’s body buzzing slightly, happiness was the hum of whirring systems. Content and pleased to rub his palms against the others cheeks, thoroughly distracted by the squish, he is hardly one to complain or pull back when lips press against the line of separation of his face plate

Scared tissue pressed against scratched plating; if metal could blush a rosy hue would grace itself across Zenyatta’s cheeks, in lieu of blood to flush his face, Zenyatta’s fans whirl louder. “I was unaware squishing you cheeks would lead to a kiss.” 

anonymous asked:

My mom’s a nerd-fan of your artwork & "humor-sense", she calls it. She O__Os her face all up in my computer screen just to see if you have any new drawings up, haha. So, to her favorite OC, dear purple hoge, please enjoy deliciously: *gives him Ma's homemade, made-from-scratch bowl of noodles & plate of dumplings!!* Thanks for making my mama smile :]!! On the serious- she marvels at your work; & says you have great talent for capturing hilarious & moving facial expressions extremely well :].

*LOUD AND INCOMPREHENSIBLE WHIRRING NOISES*

ASKJDHLSKJFLKSDJFLKDSJFLKSDJF THIS IS LITERALLY LIKE THE SWEETEST ASK IVE EVER GOTTEN ON THIS SITE!!?!?!?!? IM SO HAPPY OMG WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW IM FEELING RIGHT NOW THIS IS HONESTLY THE SWEETEST—

never in my wildest dreams would i ever imagine an anon, LET ALONE A REAL LIFE MOM, would lovE one of my OCS!!!! 111 PURPLE AHOGE ESPECIALLY AAAAAAAA

thank you anons mom ;;;____;;; youve really encouraged me to keep making others happy with my art and ill try my best to make more comics soon!!! and maybe even start writing the comic for my ocs!!! im so thankful for the both of you omg… ;;;___;;; i never thought someone would find my comics or humor remotely funny but im so haPPY 

heres a gift for your mom anon, ill make sure to post more pictures of purpleahoge too