Blorbos on The Brain

| Tarot/Jasper | 24 | they/she/he | | writings & musings | ‼️this blog is 18+ and contains adult themes‼️

[tarot-readingz]

Hello!! I’m Tarot and I like fictional characters a little too much, so I’m here to write about them and share it with others who like them too!! :]

my main + art blog

I’m a multifandom artist/writer, so my fixations switch around often, but here’s a list of my main ones (ones with a ⟡ are my current focus):

Project Hail Mary⟡

Iron Lung⟡

Hazbin Hotel

Gravity Falls

Portal 2

The Amazing Digital Circus

Transformers

Overwatch

FNaF

Undertale

Yautja/Predator

My Content, art or writing, consists of:

Character x Reader (adult inserts only)

SFW + NSFW

platonic & romantic scenarios

LGTBQ+ friendly

headcanons & fics

Gender-neutral Reader (so everybody can enjoy!!)

No yandere content . it’s just not my vibe

heavy topics may be present . nothing too extreme, but be advised!!

I am figuring out my boundaries/rules as I go, so this may be edited often!!

I’m not a speedy creator, nor am I constantly active, but this is all for fun anyway!! I just wanna make a fun lil space to enjoy my fixations, and invite whoever wants to join :] if you’ve stopped by, I send you positive vibes and hope you have a lovely day <3

[tarot-readingz]

how they take care of you || phm x reader (+ iron lung)

Grace would be methodical, anything you may need is always available and within reach. You're feeling cold? He's wrapping that giant quilt around your shoulders, its various colours and patterns pleasing to look at. You have a headache, or feel generally unwell? He's bringing you medicine for any pain, and a warm drink. He'll dim the lights, and make sure it's quiet in the room you're settled in. He'll try not to hover too much, he really will– but it's difficult to focus on any work when he wants to be there for you. Needless to say, he sets it aside for a few hours, or maybe the rest of day… it's not going anywhere, it can wait. Once he's sure you have gotten food, water, and are sufficiently cozied up, only then does he finally join you.

He'll nestle in with you amongst all the pillows and blankets, and wrap his arms around you, pulling you in close. He'll let you shift and shuffle around however you need, until you're comfortable in that one position that has you melting into the bed. He'll watch with the most gentle and loving look on his face, as the tension leaves your body, your pinched expression smoothing out with each deep breath. He'll press gentle kisses all across your face, voice low and soft with reassurance and comfort, he'll run his hands along your spine and trace patterns with his fingertips until you both fall asleep. When you wake up, he'll stay in bed with you as long as you want, gladly reciprocating your clingy embrace with his own.

Rocky would be consistent, always present and by your side. He'll give reminders to take care of yourself, when your own mind is too muddled to keep track. He'll follow you along throughout the ship, and even when he's busy, he'll pause his work every now and then to check in on you. While he might make the occasional comment about human biology and its oddities/struggles, it's only said in hopes to make you laugh, never with real harshness. If he's in his xenonite ball, he'll shuffle in close and encourage a hug, leaning his carapace against the 'glass'. If you're on Erid, you better believe he's making you put aside whatever you're doing, so that he can hug you proper. It's all limbs curling around you, a bit clumsy with the xenonite suit he wears, but so full of compassion. He settles easily in your arms, both of you curled around each other in a way that feels complete. He adores your softness.

He'll also sing to you, when your spirits are truly low. The translator will be muted, and his native language comes into full focus. Eridian lullabies, songs made to soothe, to heal, to declare love and affection— his voice carries out across the ship, vibrant and ethereal, yet soft and enveloping. (He's absolutely ecstatic when you hum along with him; he loves your voice– language barrier or not, he's endeared to your every effort to connect with him).

Adrian would be grounding, strong and steady, always there to hold you up, should you stumble. They're much larger than Rocky, and the size difference was a bit intimidating upon first meeting them– but that feeling has long since vanished, shifted into one of safety under their watch. They'll cradle you in their arms, and sing reassurances in a low, rumbling purr that wraps around your very bones like a favourite sweater. They'll encourage you to stay as long as you want, whether it's a few minutes, or a few hours– no amount of time is too long to hold you.

Like Rocky, they'll also want to provide frequent hugs, though theirs seem to envelop all of you. Despite the hard surface and pointed angles, it's some of the most cozy hugs you've ever received; your body fits against theirs like a puzzle piece.

With or without a translator, they have a way with words; they're able to ease your worries and lift your mood– even if it's just a little bit– every time, without fail. They're straightforward, but kind, pulling you back to the moment when your mind begins to drift elsewhere. Sometimes, you just need a reminder that you matter, you are loved, and no, your mistakes and flaws don't make you a bad person. You're good, you're learning, and you deserve to be happy, statement.

+ bonus

Simon would be soothing, calm and quiet, all softness that seeps through the 'sharp' outer layers. Only sharp in appearance, however, as this man is nothing but gentle with you. Something about being around him, encourages you to slow down, to be still. To breathe. Most likely, because he craves safety and peace, he does his best to give you that, too. He'll invite you to stay with him, and just be in each other's company. You're free to set down the social mask, and simply be. If you want to talk about anything on your mind, he will gladly listen. If you don't have the energy, he doesn't mind the silence– with you, it's comfortable.

If you need something to focus on, or just ease your mind, he'll hum to you. Whether you're simply sat beside him, or fully nestled in his embrace, you feel it; baritone notes that settle in your chest, while feeling the vibrations in his. Sometimes it's songs you've showed him from your endless music library– slower ones he's found and enjoyed– but usually, it's lullabies and melodies his mother sang to him when he was young. Now, it's possibly due to the mutations the blood ocean has caused, but he has… oddly accurate timing with these things. It's like he just seems to know when something is amiss, even before you realize it yourself, and arrives to lovingly whisk you away so he can take care of you.

⊹₊⟡⋆

[tarot-readingz]

if you see me editing posts to decorate them shhhshsh i am gently closing your eyes until the bedazzling is done /j

[tarot-readingz]

hhmm now that i'm dusting off this blog, i may start sharing more loose ideas as well

imagine, if you will, crafting things with Rocky, with tools similar to his own for engineering work . maybe he has a spare set, maybe he makes you some– either way, while sitting with him one 'evening', you find yourself fully absorbed in watching him work . seeing him in his element, weaving xenonite together with practiced ease, it was delightful to see . the work itself also looked fun, and you voice these thoughts aloud-

Rocky pauses, tilting his carapace toward you. "You wish to learn, question?" The text-to-speech voice rings out, and you give a nod. "I mean, yeah! We've got a lot of time on our hands out here. If you happen to have some extra tools, and you're up for playing mentor, then of course." Now, you're not actually sure if it'd be possible for you to craft with xenonite– but, the idea is still fun to think about. Maybe you could turn the tables and make him a little figure, as a gift.

Rocky trills, seeming delighted by the notion, and he starts fluttering about his workspace. "Happy, happy, happy! Rocky will make lesson plan." By that point, he seems rather distracted, and in between his hurried working, he ushers you away to get food after realizing the time, long before you do. ("Grace is eating– disgust– that means time for you to eat. Go, or Rocky get Grace to move you.")

The next day, not even an hour after you've woken up, Rocky is rushing you along, while Grace watches on from the side. He's got this smile, like he knows something, and you narrow your eyes at him (to which he raises his hands in mock surrender, saying "I haven't done anything– I just think it's nice to see him so excited about something") before Rocky is calling your name, already down the hallway.

Upon reaching his workshop area, you see what all the fuss is about it: on one of the ship's tables, lie a pair of oddly shaped gloves– your size, with pieces akin to a tattoo gun attached to each finger, and it takes you a moment to realize; these are Rocky's tools. Or, something similar. Regardless– these are his tools for working with xenonite.

Your heart skips a beat. While you're aware that he's always true to his word, you still weren't expecting it. "I– you actually put this together for me?"

Rocky can practically feel your excitement; hands fidgeting slightly, as though to hold yourself from reaching out just yet, attention fully drawn to the items on the table, but the absolute joy radiating from you– your very being seems to sing, and it settles over the room like a blanket, warm and enveloping.

He finds that he quite enjoys your song, and would do anything to hear it more often.

"Yes, yes, yes, Rocky prepare tools and lesson. We will start now, statement."

Later, Grace peeks in the room to find you both set up on the floor, huddled together and weaving the threads of metal into shapes. Rocky is switching his focus between a few different things, as is his multitasking nature, but he always returns to you and your progress. You're absolutely beaming once you finish crafting your own little sphere, and though it's a little wobbly, the lines uneven, it doesn't dim your passion. You hold it up proudly, spotting Grace in the doorway, and showing it off to him. He commends your work with equal enthusiasm, but truthfully, he was more focused on the big, bright smile on your face, and the sparkle in your eyes.

⊹₊⟡⋆

[tarot-readingz]

grounding presence

PHM x Reader oneshot || fluff, mild hurt/comfort ⊹₊⟡⋆ warnings: descriptions of anxiety and some of its physical effects ⊹₊⟡⋆ summary: Rocky helps you sleep, when your mind is too busy to let you rest. 💭 a sort of birthday gift to myself a couple weeks ago, when i wasn't feeling too well, and even though it's a bit wordy (i seemed to write this intermittently over two weeks and only at 2am) i thought it was cute enough to share . plus, i believe rocky deserves some more one-on-one love <3 to whoever is reading this, i wish you a wonderful day/night, and remember that you are loved . take care of yourself 💕

Everybody had off days, that was simply part of life. And while you are currently in a spaceship, eleven-point-nine light years away from Earth, with only one other human onboard (plus a new and very real alien companion), on a one-way mission to save your stars from dying– you are most definitely going to have off days.

Like today, in which you've woken up riddled with anxiety that you just can't shake off. You do your best to manage it; avoiding caffeine and sugar, drinking more water, keeping busy and grounding yourself as often as possible– and it mostly works. But by the time 'night' comes around, you are exhausted. And yet, still buzzing.

You hoped that the mundane, familiar process of your bedtime routine would help distract your mind, but it doesn't. At least, not for very long. The moment that you finish up in the bathroom, and make your way to bed, your thoughts are racing again. You can feel your heartbeat doing the same, thudding in your chest, and part of you wonders if Rocky can hear it. Most likely, as nothing on the ship goes undetected by him. It's just a matter of time.

The familiar text-to-speech voice calling out your name as you enter the dorms, startles you from your thoughts. Rocky sits in his xenonite tunnel above the beds, mechanic tools in hand, and tilts his carapace toward you. "Are you ready for sleep?"

Giving a soft hum and nod of your head, you begin to settle in. "Yes, I am— all good," your voice goes quieter at the end as you nestle into the large patterned quilt, the one you and Grace share, and sigh wistfully. He's insisted on working just a bit longer, and you are far too out of it to properly coax him to bed like usual. Just this once, you'll let it slide. Maybe you'll get lucky and fall asleep quickly, and wake up to him beside you…

Seeming to sense your dismay at your lack of cuddle buddy, Rocky trills from above you. "Don't worry, will retrieve Grace soon. Staying up too late again." You huff out a laugh at that, easily amused by the mental image of the Eridian heckling Grace into bed. It wouldn't be the first time, and won't be the last. "Thank you, Rocky. I know you'll make a more convincing argument than I can right now." You hear a delighted chirp, and the sound provides a bit of comfort, knowing he's there. Closing your eyes, you attempt to relax and sleep for the night.

… It does not come. If anything, your heartbeat feels louder, more intense against your ribs the more you try to settle your body. You take a slow deep breath, bringing a hand to your abdomen, hoping to ease the discomfort swirling in your stomach. It's heavy, and leaves your body with jitters. You actually feel a bit nauseous.

Fifteen minutes go by before you finally give up with a sharp exhale, staring up at the ceiling. Damn it, you just want to rest…

"What is wrong? Heart rate is too high." Again, you flinch at Rocky's voice carrying out from the speaker, then relax back into your pillow. "Yeah, it is… sorry, I'm just… I feel anxious. I have been all day, to be honest." Before he can fret about it, you add on, "I'll be okay, it's just going to take a while for me to actually sleep." Your explanation comes out soft, and a bit stilted, your hands gripping and smoothing out the blanket as your eyelids flutter shut.

Rocky doesn't say anything for a moment, the muted tap tap tap of his claws carrying over Mary's idle ambiance, then it stops- and is replaced by movement across the xenonite. Opening your eyes again, you find Rocky climbing his way up and down through the tunnel, and your brows furrow as you watch him in the dim lighting. "Where are you going?"

"You stay, I will move closer." He says, moving away and out of sight. There's a faint thud nearby, followed by louder thudding as Rocky rolls across the floor in his ball. You sit up on your elbows, and he stops right against the nest you and Grace have made on the ground, mattresses shoved together with blankets and pillows. The Eridian must know you're about to ask why, because he's already answering: "I watch from right here, to help ease mind to sleep." He tilts his carapace in a nod, folding his limbs inward and lying down.

Your heart flutters, softer this time, and you smile as his efforts to make sure you're cared for. So, you move closer, until you're at the edge of the mattress, your body curling around the xenonite's hard edges. It feels warm, very faintly, but it's enough to feel cozy against your skin. Rocky chirps, then it turns into a low warble. "Good, good, good. Feeling comfortable and safe now, question?" You hum, pulling the quilt closer until you're sufficiently bundled up, nestled as close as you can get to the xenonite while still being comfortable.

Thinking on his question, you take a moment to notice yourself, now that he's closer. You find that your heartbeat is… actually calmer, and your body less tense. The sensations still linger, little prickles along your skin and slight tremors, but– you are able to relax. Warmth blooms in your chest, and you wish so dearly for the ability to give Rocky a proper hug. For now, though, you hope your words are enough. "Yes, I am… very much. Thank you, love."

He sways and sings something you don't think you've heard before, but it sounds happy; bright and melodic and sweet, ending with a soft coo. You can feel the vibrations through the 'glass', and it brings a smile to your face, one tinged with sleep but full of adoration. Usually, you're rather good at understanding Eridian, but in your exhaustion, you are unable to comprehend it. None of his words seem to go through the translator, either, so you have no idea what he's said. Maybe a phrase he's never used before? Or a term of endearment? Your pondering slows, as you begin to drift off. "I didn't quite catch that one… will you tell me again later…?"

There's a pause, before a single note– followed by the translator's voice. "…Yes."

Then, he shifts, just enough to move one of his limbs, and presses his claws against the xenonite toward you. You reach out to rest your own hand against it, right over where his is placed. Rocky sings again, this time it's drawn out longer, soft and slow, like a lullaby. You swear there's some sort of purring underneath it all, and you manage to hum a few notes in return, as the other-worldly melodies put you to sleep.

⊹₊⟡⋆

[megtrns]

seasonal anthologies ft. the mtmte bots, sfw !

summer is for celebrations and driving down to the beach with drift, where the air hot and thick despite the setting sun in the distance. you stick your head out the passenger window to feel the wind rushing past your ears, the excited roar of his engines bouncing off the cliffside. it's sitting on rodimus's shoulders as he runs past the shore, the spray of cold water making you squeal into the side of his helm. june, july, august — salt dissolves in your mouth while thunder rumbles in the distance. you sit by the steps of your porch with swerve, the air heavy with heat. as if the earth was holding its breath in anticipation, waiting to break and give way to rain. his big, blocky fingers awkwardly tearing through an orange for you to eat. saccharine and sticky, the fruit drips down your forearms with every bite. green is the grass between your toes, grey is the sky as it melts to nightfall. summer is when the mattress dips unequally to one side, where you and tailgate sleep back to back, skin to metal. the warmth sinks into your bone, blanket on the floor as the faint whirring of his systems lulls you to sleep. fall is for new beginnings, shorter days, and knitted scarves. where the sunlight is lighter and softer, casting long, golden shadows across ratchet's face. he displaces his mass to help you tie your coat by its belt, pulling you closer to soak in the heat radiating off his chassis—soft wool between his shiny servos. september bleeds into october, and somewhere between, where the air is so clean it shivers, cyclonus walks next to you in muted contemplation. optics quietly taking in the ocean of leaves crunching underneath his pedes. cinnamon between your teeth as you swallow your longing, fingers tracing over the holo-picture of skids. nautica says the muted colors remind her of him, but she blames it on the morning chill creeping past her cables. you tell her that fall is the season of reminiscing, of missing what is gone and what is yet to come — the ending and beginning of things, the place where all things come to die. the soil is soft and the world is asleep. this is the part where you turn off the lights and leave.

winter is for joy and relaxation, november a mosaic of warm orange windows and deep blue nights, where the moonshine falls thin and silver. minimus is determined to keep you from straying off the path, guiding you through the thick heap of snow — arms intermingled, hand and servo intertwined. your laughter rings into the night like bells, airy and light; a quiet wish, a happy prayer. for some, december is asleep. it's reclusive and shy, just like rung when he gives in to your request to stay inside, submitting to the weight of the duvet as it swallows you both. for others, the darkness only makes them vigilant. optics wide awake, prowl slinks back into the shadows, pale like the blizzard, soundless like a secret. early mornings and frozen lakes, megatron tells you the winter is cruel — barren and empty, silencing the earth. you disagree, telling him that winter is full of hope, where the snow is white with the promise of forgiveness. the promise to begin again.

spring is for waking up under the sun, where the light kisses your cheeks and shoulders; brainstorm suddenly envious of the star. you chew berries against the bark of an old, dying tree. skin buzzing with a new kind of energy, heart bursting at the sight of perceptor studying the small animals in the distance. in february, you stretch your arms to welcome a night of storms. in march, you patiently listen to whirl complain about the pollen in his cogs. finally, in april, the air is alive, sweet and rosy, laughing and singing. first aid lifts you with his open palm, across a running stream, down a winding, rocky path. somewhere behind you, misfire raises his helm to the clear, cloudless sky. drowning himself in the sound of strange birds and even stranger insects. there is a tenderness to all of this, capricious and fickle, flowers buried in the wash of green grass. a dream you don't want to wake up from, an embrace you're not ready to part with. nightbeat says he hates when beautiful things are fleeting, and you think he's no longer referring to the spring, optics sad and distant as they land on you.

[triannel]

Unexpected Movie Night

Bill Cipher x Reader | Oneshot

Warnings: Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Bill Cipher, Unhealthy Attachment to Reader

Today just wasn't the same as the million other days he's had. Stinging feelings has suddenly started to rise inside of him and it is unbearable. However, just as always, he does what he's always done to cope when these feelings resurface, he forces himself to resume acting like nothing's happening, trying to ignore the sudden weight on his unregulated emotions and already diminishing mental state.

Frustrated he tries everything to drown out these feelings, he just can't deal with this right now. Wine, partying, loud music, activities that will either excite or overwhelm him, he's tried it all today, and not even a single one helped. Least to say he's growing quite desperate for an escape...

So as his last attempt for the day, he hesitantly teleports to a place he considers comfortable. In a drunken and dizzy state, he leaves the party.

"HellOO yOu..." Startled, you look to your side and see a drunken triangle overlord, holding the forbidden drink on his right hand as he floated unsteadily in the air.

"Bill?" Furrowing your eyebrows, you slowly approach him, the awful stench of alcohol making you slightly gag.

"Yeah, IT'S Me! BILLYYY!" He responded, swinging his arms slightly in delight.

Raising his arm, he drinks a mouth...eye..ful? amount of alcohol before losing balance once more, this time nearly falling flat to the ground.

Quickly though, you manage to catch him right before he could hit the cold hard floor.

"Okay...I think that's enough drinking for you today..." You spoke, concerned for his well being.

Slowly, you held a part of the bottle and surprisingly, you successfully take the drink from his hand and place it on a nearby table.

Right after you placed the bottle down, you then felt fuzzy hands on your cheeks. He soon forced you to look down at him for a second before pulling your head even lower so that one of your eyes can nearly meet his. "I just wanted TO see YOU todayyy yknoww..." He mutters under his breath, as he continues to hold you close.

Flustered, you chuckle nervously, "What's gotten into you today..?" You question silently.

As if on cue, he releases his hold and let's himself deflate on your arms like a balloon. You've never seen him like this before. Vulnerable and intoxicated, his body seemed to be made out of rubber at the moment, his expression looked so tired and troubled. What was he doing the whole day? Did he actually not plan to teleport here? Well, drunk people do say and do things that are true to their nature...so perhaps it wasn't a mistake.

You can tell him to go back to his place, but looking back at him now, maybe it's for the best you keep him here instead. Placing Bill down the sofa, you then hand him some water. "Here, you should probably stay here for tonight.." you comment, sitting down beside him.

"WHOA there toots! Don't cha think you're moving too fast? Take me to dinner first wIll ya?" He spoke, while drinking water.

You chuckle slightly, "Well, if you want, I can call your henc-".

"Upupup shhhhhh," he suddenly interrupts you, placing his finger to your lips.

"Can't take back your word noww." He spoke, clasping his hands together in a cute manner as he leans closer to you.

You laugh and nod your head, "Ok ok, well if you say so."

Opening your TV, you both start to watch some sort of film, all the while as you try to keep him hydrated to help lessen the hangover he might get in the morning.

When you both did start to watch, he never really kept a distance between you. Once he leaned on you, he seemed to only want to get closer than ever as his sitting position slowly transitioned to him using your thighs as his pillow.

Throughout your unplanned marathon with him, he also did gradually become less energetic, his expression taking on a much more serene look the longer he was with you. Maybe you're delusional, but you swore you could have catched him gazing at you multiple times.

As a few hours seemed to have gone by in a flash, the clock suddenly striked 12.

Hearing something beep out loud, you supposed it's time to put this triangle to bed. Well, you could just leave him here by the sofa to sleep, but deciding to be a good host, you decided to let him sleep on your bed, accepting the sofa as your bed for tonight instead.

"Well, it's getting late so we should hit the hay hm?" You spoke, pointing at your watch.

"Nooo," He responded as he closed his eye in weak defiance.

Soon though, to his dismay, you stand up, letting him fall on his side.

"Come on, get up." You spoke in a lighthearted manner.

He groans once more in dissapproval, refusing to get off the couch for a moment before gravity forces him to fall. When he did fall to his side, he then fell to his front, but most of his body did not land on the sofa, so he then slowly started to slide off the sofa. Fortunately though, you catch him once more before he hit the floor.

So, with a triangular demon between your arms, you head to your bedroom and tucked him beneath the sheets.

Pulling up the bedsheets, to his annoyance, you start bidding him goodnight, "Well, I think my work here is done," however, once you do start to leave, his mind instantly ignited. 'Please...don't leave me.'

Suddenly, you felt him grab your wrist. "Hm?" You hum in confusion. A few seconds pass and he didn't respond as all he did was gaze up at you in silence.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" You ask in a gentle tone, trying to gently pry him open for the truth to spill out.

Nothing, he didn't respond, however he did slightly tighten his grip. A few seconds pass and no one spoke. The serene look on his face now mangled to a slightly panicked state. Almost as if to convince you to stay.

Letting out a sigh, you smile back at him once more as you hoped you deciphered his body language correctly.

Stepping back to your bed, you finally broke the silence, "Alright... Scoot over there and make room for us to fit."

Pulling the bed sheets up once more, you let the warmth between both of you embrace your being. Letting him snuggle close, you watch him return to a serene state before deciding to let yourself rest as well. He'll probably regret this in the morning.

[spitdrunken]

notes: temporary character death

You were a little kid, when you’d first met him. But so was he. It had been a time before time, when many things did not yet exist, and even more were simply incomprehensible. 

Other kids always talked about Bill and his ‘weird’ eye. You didn’t really get it. Your mom told you to be nice to Bill, but you didn’t really know him. When you asked the other kids why he or his eye was weird, none of them knew what to say. And if they did, they all gave a different answer. You guessed their parents just told them he was weird. Maybe you were weird, too, then. You never really knew what to say or how to approach anyone, and it’d only become a problem when your parents asked you if you had any friends. That was the moment you had realised that you didn’t. 

You didn’t really know why you picked Bill, back then. You didn’t care about him either way. But you did liked his shoes. They were big, a cool colour, and they were squeaky when he moved. What was there not to like? That morning, you had asked your dad what you should ask when you wanted to play together with someone. He had said that, after school, you should get someone’s parents’ permission if you want to play after school. 

“Bill’s mom, can Bill play?” You’d ask who you would later get to know as miss Scalene.

“I don’t know!” She responded, in that slow, sweet tone people who spend a lot of time around young children naturally begin to emulate. “I think you should Billy ask that.”

“Oh. I thought his name was Bill! I’m sorry.” You called out, swaying a little from side to side. 

“It’s Bill,” he’d said. His voice was higher than you had expected. “But mom calls me Billy.”

“Oh,” you started again. “Can I call you that too?” You asked. 

“…Mm.” Billy had hummed. “Okay. I guess.” Even when he’d said the affirmative, he hadn’t sounded entirely convinced. He was hesitant to appear from next to his mom. 

“So. Do you wanna play, Billy?” He glowed a little brighter. 

He was quiet for a moment. You think his mom squeezed his hand. “Sure. But what?” 

You didn’t really have much experience playing with other kids, either. But you weren’t about to tell your new friend Billy that! You’d offered to play hide and seek together, to which he’d agreed. After just a little bit of time together, talking and playing came a lot more easily. 

You would play hide and seek together quite a lot. That was the first time you really came face-to-face with Billy’s mischievous side. He had advantages over you that you simply could not imagine. With his eye, that could see ‘every’ which way, was always able to spot you long before you bumped into him. Yours were always just fixed in a single direction, bumping into other shapes was normal and expected. Billy never did that. He could suddenly appear behind you, and you had no idea how he did it. If you ever found him, it was because he could no longer contain his laughter, or because of the squeaking of his shoes. 

For a while, this went fine. But you grew sick of losing all the time. You’d eventually stopped, swayed violently from side to side (a sight of great displeasure amongst your two dimensional race) and cried big, fat tears. Your purple glow diminished to a flickering.

“It’s not fair!” You mumbled out, and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “You always win, and I never, ever do. You’re cheating.”

“I’m not cheating!” He exclaimed a little too loudly, and you cried even harder. “It’s my eye,” he said and pointed at it. “It’s not my fault I can see things you can’t. I’m not cheating.” 

“…It’s still cheating if you’re not doing it on purpose,” you mumbled huffily. Not to mention, he had been way too happy beating you over and over and over again! You sniffle and loosen your arms. “Did you know people call your eye weird? Why is it like that?”

“Yes. Duh. I know people say that… And I dunno. Mom says it’ll be alright when I’m older.” You were too young to know to recognize or maneuverer around a touchy subject. “…Do you think it’s weird?”

“I don’t know yet,” you responded. “What else can you see? And do?” 

Billy told you about the stars. Whereas his parents had tolerated his talks about the stars, had found his enthusiasm for something they couldn’t see endearing and worrying in equal measure, you were fascinated by them. Perhaps exactly because you couldn’t see them, your interest had expanded. Bill and you would exchange drawings. He’d draw the stars for you, while you would show him what the world looked like to you, or other things. Sometimes, you drew the two of you together, too. 

Afterwards, the two of you had become inseparable. And, years later, when Billy’s parents had lost all hope in the possibility that his eye would change, when people started to fear him, you’d stuck by his side like glue. He had told you of his plan to show everyone the stars, and you’d practically vibrated with excitement. You had counted down the hours. 

And, like the rest of them, you had ended up smashed. Into. Pieces, scattered into nothing but the finest of dust, leaving behind a pile of static, writhing blood. Maybe, unlike the rest, you had felt a sliver of happiness when you died. Maybe you’d even gotten to see it. 

--

In another life, many, many, many years in the future, you had been a human. In this life, you were born with the same fascination for the stars, and granted the opportunity to study them to your heart’s content. Maybe the Axolotl had taken mercy on your soul, or something along those lines. You had a good life. A comfortable one. A life that was much, much happier than the one you had lived a trillion years ago. 

But you had a childhood imaginary friend. Perhaps a part of your traumatic past life had lodged itself so deeply in your soul that not even reincarnation had washed away all memories of it. You had a childhood imaginary friend named Billy, who was a floating little triangle with a big, glossy eye and cool shoes. As you grew older, he’d slipped from your mind, and the only remnant of his existence were some drawings you’d kept of him in a forgotten drawer in your room. 

When you had doodled him again once, many years later, the shape was in line enough with his current appearance to allow him a portal of view into your life. He hadn’t been able to explain what it was that drew himself to you. Why he started to infiltrate your dreams, merely to watch from a distance. The design of your mindscape, the big, starry expanse spanning out above it, had felt familiar to him. The desire to watch you go about your day and do the boring, mundane things that every meatbag does every single day. But when he finally decided to show himself in one of your dreams, it had all clicked into place.

“Billy!” You’d exclaimed happily. “Huh… I haven’t thought about you in forever. It’s been a really long time.” It was something in your eyes and the way you’d said it, that had jolted him back all that time. He’d almost forgotten about you. Forgotten your name, and what you’d looked like. Only vague memories of happiness had remained in contrast with the sight of your corpse. “But you look a bit different from what I remember. Well, a dream’s a dream, right?”

“Y…Yeah, well, ahahaha!” It wasn’t often that Bill was thrown off-balance, and it’d made him a little sick. His mind jumped between destroying you from the inside out then and there, and cradling you into a little pocket dimension he could fit in the palm of his hand for the rest of his eternity. “You’ve changed, too, kid. Like you said, a lot of time has passed. So! What are you up to now, huh?” 

Bill knew from the moment he set his eye upon you, that he’d have a soft spot for you. It was dangerous. You weren’t like those others, who he could grow amused with for a little bit, toy around with and, eventually, discard without a second thought. No. The two of you went waaaay back, and he’d already seen you die once before. 

Could he really let that happen again? 

[candibraceletsarecool]

chewtoy anon back again with a brain dump; somethign something not really feeling 100% one day and just... being quieter than usual. not bouncing goofs back when bill throws one your way, even, you're just... exhausted. emotionally, physically, either or or even both, youre just clocked out that day. somehow Bill winds up in your lap- maybe he started circling you to try and catch your attention or whatever and got up close and personal and one thing leads to another? who can say. either way hes sitting in your lap while hes talking about literally whatever comes to mind first at a speed you didnt know he could while you play with his hands a bit. rubbing your thumb over the curve of his palm, curling and un-curling his fingers, intertwining your fingers together, slowly coming back into yourself as the physical contact helps ground you and lead you back out of your own head and to him. idk just holding hands with bill while being oblivious of him soaking up all that good physical affection like a lizard on a warm rock.

Chewtoy anon, you've done it again- I am living for your ideas

Warnings: fluff, not proofread.

Bill would be yapping his heart out. Talking about whatever random topic comes to mind, ice scream, methods of torture, constellations, the inevitable death of all that exists.

He starts off confident in himself, trying to show off his smarts and everything then as he feels your fingers curl and uncurl around his he starts to stammer. He's spitting out nonsense not even he comprehends.

Noticing your zoned out expression would both annoy and relieve him because; One, you didn't pay any attention to what he just said and two, you don't notice how bashful he's getting.

"And- and stars are, stars are really-" Bill trails off and you finally start to be in the moment. You give a tired smile to the little triangle in your lap. He giggles nervously when you encase his hand with your own, "Y-Ya'know?"

"Nope, I don't know." You rub the center of his palm with your thumb, "But keep talking. I like hearing your voice, cielito."

Oh just rip his heart out and keep it in a jar on your bedside table.

[triannel]

Got interested by this concept and decided to make my own interpretation of it haha

Exhausted, tired, and stressed out you return back to your peaceful abode, roughly closing the door behind you as you enter. With ruffled hair, and an exhausted look on your face, your heart grew heavier as you took each step to reach your room.

Immediately sitting down, you heave out a contentful sigh as your back reaches the wall. Closing your eyes, you were absolutely ready to end this day.

Suddenly though, a loud rumble of sounds was heard just outside your bedroom. Not bothering to look, you keep your eyes closed as you continue to search for comfort and relaxation as you let yourself rest for a moment. Up until Bill entered the room.

Shining brightly, the light emenating from his shell manages to make you glance up at him as he speaks.

"Sheesh! Did you get chewed on by a dog today? You look terrible!"

Managing to chuckle slightly, you respond in a hushed tone, "Well...maybe."

"You know your eyes...." As he floats closer to where you are, you squint your eyes just to look at him. Bill was brightly glowing in the dimly lit room, his voice slowly blending in the background as your senses become a little fuzzy.

Noticing this, he takes it upon himself to just sit in front of you, watching as you slowly surrender to your exhaustion. Not exactly resting per se, but it's something he's seen before. He continues to ramble on, observing you and perceiving the effects of the weeks that seemed to have brought you down to such a state.

Curious, he tries to get your attention by tapping on your hands lightly. But then, you suddenly took his hand into yours and started to play with it. Stopping for a moment, he stares back up at you, your eyes were still closed, humming gently, encouraging him to continue.

Looking around your bedroom, he sees very few stuffed toys on your bed. You must have mistook his hand for a stuffed toy.

Nonetheless, he let's this happen, taking it as flattery of some sort, basking in physical contact he'd never initiate. He will be wary of letting himself indulge in this, but taking the chance, he lets you use his hands for some sort of stress toy.

Rambling on as 'normal' he glows a bit brighter a few times as you would interlock your hands together, getting increasingly bashful and flushed as his physical starved self becomes satiated for the day.

Although, he is annoyed at the fact you are not giving him your full attention, but he will let it pass for now as he tries his best to keep himself from glowing as bright as a star because of what you're doing.

Slowly though, your hands stop. As your exhausted body slowly took control. What's left of your consciousness has been swept under the rug as you started to sleep. Quickly noticing, he gazes up at you and notices your relaxed expression. Although disappointed, he lets you take your well deserved rest for the day.

However, before his departure, his fuzzy hands slowly held one of yours, he hesitates for a moment but deciding to continue, he gives your hand a gentle kiss.

[tarot-readingz]

band-aids

Bill Cipher x Reader oneshot || fluff, hurt/comfort ⊹₊⟡⋆ warnings: self harm injuries/relapse in self harm, brief negative self-talk and low self-esteem ⊹₊⟡⋆ summary: Bill helps bandage up your wounds and provides some awkward comfort. 💭 i needed some comfort recently, and i thought i'd maybe share what i wrote in case anyone else needs it too . bill might be a bit 'ooc', but that doesn't matter here lol . and to whoever's reading, remember that you are loved, and you matter very much . please be gentle with yourself, and stay safe, friend <3

Rrrip.

The sound of another band-aid being opened fills the otherwise tense silence. That’s the third one, and you’ll probably need another. You watch as Bill carefully lines it up across your arm, making sure it doesn’t bubble up when you move, then presses down so it sticks. It’s… oddly sweet, almost unnervingly so. You’d never have thought he’d be capable of this much care; this tenderness.

Neither of you speak for what feels like hours in your small bathroom. You’ve just finished crying, and now a headache lingers. You’re not even sure what to say, anyway. Luckily, though, he beats you to it.

“What made you do this?”

…maybe not so lucky.

You chew on your lip, pointedly keeping your gaze away from his. How do you even answer that? It’s too much to begin explaining, you don’t know where to start, and with your thoughts currently moving at the speed of molasses, all you can do is sigh. “I just…” a pause, you try again. “I…”

God, the words just aren’t going to come out easily, are they?

Thankfully (but surprisingly), Bill says nothing— no teasing, no prodding— instead going still as he actually waits for you to answer. Why is he acting so… so…

Your face scrunches up in mild frustration, then falls into something more dismayed with another huff. “I just… spiralled. I was angry, and I felt that I deserved it. And… I wanted it, I guess.” It was much more complicated than that, but it’s a start.

He’s eerily quiet, and when it stretches on for too long, it feels like it’s suffocating you— you have to say something else. 

“I thought you’d be more amused. Don’t you find pain hilarious and all that?” It’s a weak attempt at banter, and you only muster a breath of a laugh, but he doesn’t joke back. Rather, his grip on your arm tightens slightly, and his gaze remains on the cuts now hidden away under the protective band-aids. He mutters something so softly and you almost miss what he says. “Not when it’s yours.”

His words make your chest do… something. It tightens and flutters at the same time. He doesn’t admit any vulnerability out loud, it’s always indirect. Implied. You’re touched, confused, and all-around emotional. You pray that you don’t start crying again. 

“If you start thinking like that again, you’ll tell me. Got it?” Bill breaks the silence again, and his tone leaves no room for argument, but underneath it…. He’s oddly affected by this, and you really didn’t think he would be, considering what kind of person (er, triangle?) he is. You’ve seen exactly what he’s like, evil and manipulative and uncaring towards others— and for whatever reason, he makes exceptions with you. Sometimes.

Mulling over his statement, you finally nod silently in agreement, but he still doesn’t move. “Promise me.”

Now that makes your insides twinge, and as much as you want to, you don’t dare to look up at him. There’s no way Bill would demand a promise. There’s no way he’d ask, or plead for something.

But that’s exactly what he’s doing.

You don’t know how to process it.

“…Okay.”

“Say it.”

“I— okay, I promise.”

Finally satisfied, he resumes covering the tiny stripes of lacerations with another band-aid, the ripping of the paper cuts sharply through the already fragile atmosphere. He repeats the same steps, using the same level of care that makes your heart ache. You don’t realize you’re crying until you watch his hand reach up to brush against your cheek, the contact making your breath hitch and your face to heat up. 

“Hey, stop that. You’ve done enough gross leaking for the night.” He sounds awkward and mildly annoyed, and you can’t help the laugh that slips out, nor the tired smile that forms on your face, and finally, you glance up. Bill’s gaze is already on you, and you swear you can feel him brighten a little bit at your reaction. “There you go, that’s better! Besides, you gotta keep yourself together for me. Can’t have my future puppet falling apart so soon, y’know.”

You shove him, but there’s no force behind it. His hand falls away from your cheek as he laughs, and you find yourself wishing it had stayed a little longer. “Oh shush, you know that’s not happening.”

“Not yet,”

“I will drop-kick you out the window.”

“Ha! Good luck trying while all of your motor functions are inverted!”

All the while, his other hand hasn’t moved from your arm, even when he’s done tending to your wounds.

[walliedarling]

Clown answered an ask and mentioned that Wally at one point learnt how to blow kisses, and likes to do it, but did it wrong at first… this is definitely not what they meant but <3

“What was that you were doing?” Wally asks. 

You’re used to such questions from him. Wally is always eager to learn about anything he’s unfamiliar with, whether that be a new game, phrase, or hobby. He’s always happy to listen, and it’s a trait of his that you can appreciate. This time, though, you’re not really sure what he’s referring to. 

“What was what?” You respond. Wally doesn’t say anything, instead merely pointing at his mouth. His lips are stretched into a smile, as usual. 

“Oh!” Julie had passed by and caught your eye, so you’d greeted her from a distance. “I was blowing a kiss at Julie. It’s kind of like… A more affectionate way of saying ‘hello’, I guess? Though ‘goodbye’ would work as well. It can mean a lot of different things- It’s a little hard to explain.” 

Keep reading

[walliedarling]

Vitamin C

You and Wally are the only inhabitants of Home who can eat. Wally, as is in his nature, is curious about anything he’s unfamiliar with, including this. You decide to humour him, then humour him a little more… Hesitantly.

Notes: Human Reader AU (you were transported to Home and keep your human body) Hypnosis, Mild Horror Elements, Mild Body Horror, Non-Sxual Body Exploration. (you eat an apple. that’s all :)!)

“You’re not kidding, right? You really want to see?”

You don’t think that Wally would lie to you, or push a joke this far. Still, you fail to see the appeal in this. You hold the apple Wally has given you by its stem, and twirl it around.

“I’m not joking at all,” he responds. His eyes linger on the apple you’re holding, before his gaze drifts back to your face. “Do you mind? I wouldn’t want to make a friend do something they don’t want.”

Wally is the first one who has asked to see you eat right to your face, but you know that it’s yet another surprising aspect of your body to everyone living here. More surprising than the feeling of your skin, the number of your fingers, and the texture of your hair. Some are better at hiding their reactions than others. Some don’t try to hide them at all, like Wally. He’s here to have his curiosity sated, and you can’t deny that you have questions of your own.

Keep reading

[gay-dorito-dust-deactivated2025]

Based on the time Clown answered someone’s question of what Wally’s favourite sound was and said it was us. 🦦 plz standby as I cry at how cute that is-

Also gif credit: @cinderbutt

Wally love, love, loves the sound of your voice.

Even if he so happened to not be in the same room as you at the time, as long as he could hear your voice, everything was a-okay.

It’s a sound of soothing reassurance for the little guy, something that reminds him of your permanence in his life and he couldn’t be more grateful.

I genuinely don’t think he cares about how your voice sounds because at the end of the day, it’s your voice! It’s unique, amazing, and so special to Wally because it helps him identify you.

If Wally was allowed a moment to be honest, he’d admits to believing that he wouldn’t be able to find a better sound to favour above all else then your voice.

If there was an instance where you were brought up to be ashamed of your voice, going so far as to not speak as much of you could help it, but when Wally catches wind of this he’d be like;

‘Insecure of your voice? But why? It’s my favourite sound to hear in the morning as it’s rough with the lack of use, or even as your reading a book aloud to yourself and how it would instinctively become higher or lower octave depending on how your were reacting towards what was happening in the story; whether it be happy or sad.’

‘Even when you felt impassioned about something you truly cared about or just recently found interest in, your voice becomes more powerful and full of life that it becomes infectious and awe inspiring. It’s a truly unique voice to you and despite how you think about it, I would rather hear you speak about your hobbies, about your day, about anything and everything because your voice truly is one of a kind and I wouldn’t wish it to sound any differently because to me, it’s perfect as it is.’

Wally’s dead serious when he says all this, so don’t be mistaken because this three foot puppet truly does adore your voice to an almost unhealthy amount.

He’s hooked onto your every word as though it’s gospel even if your talking about a time where you were getting the mail.

Wally. Is. Hooked. He wants to hear the story to it’s end.

The little guy pouts when you’re interrupted but encourages you to start from the beginning should you forget where you left off. Just gives him an excuse to listen to your voice for even longer.

I’d like to think he’s a little gossiping shit and would be down to hearing the most recent gossip with you, should you have the full context on the situation. Wally’s already sat on your lap ready and waiting.

You: The FitnessGram Pacer test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it-

Wally: 🥰😍

[montyuh-deactivated20240218]

Hello!!! I wanted to say thank you for the Rumble & Frenzy oneshot a while back, I love what you wrote!! <3 hopefully I’m quick enough to send an ask in haha

May I request a gn!human reader with mtmte Minimus Ambus? Something fluffy, like spending time together and realizing feelings, how much they both enjoy being together? maybe reader wants to compare hand sizes for fun, and he can’t help but adore the difference <3

Thank you and have a great day!!

I wrote this request and then I was looking for the ask to go copy & paste it in and genuinely started tweaking thinking I made it up because I kept skipping over your request because it said "Rumble & Frenzy" that the top. I'm glad you liked it though LOL <3 Thanks for the request :)

Warnings: SFW, GN Human reader

Perhaps as a result of war most mechs live their lives on the edge or entirely away from it regarding social interactions. Some ‘bots are brazen enough to openly proposition others for whatever purposes, while others shy away from beginning conversations at all. Both sides are filled with pros and cons, but a vast majority of those within the unnamed labels would agree anywhere between–a slower, innocent approach–is not worth the time and tears you may or may not have to spare. Humans–at least you, Minimus has learned, don’t see this as so frivolous of a thing.

Your warm palm is flat against his, fingertips delicately pressed against his. Without the Magnus armor he is significantly smaller, but his hand still dwarfs yours. It’s gratifying in a way he feels it shouldn’t be, though you seem pleased with the comparison, a gentle curve on your lips. 

“Do Cybertronians not do this?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “I cannot say I’ve seen any mech do this, and I don’t see the purpose in it myself.”

Your smile falters a bit, and Minimus thinks to elaborate for a moment before you continue, “it’s just an excuse to be close.”

He hopes you can’t feel his hand twitch at that, because you’ve read him perfectly.

Sometimes it’s hard wanting to be around you so often. You’re a human, and with the Magnus armor he feels so far away from you when the most he can do to be level is pick you up or kneel and the last association he wants you to make is being patronized and him. Even if you did reciprocate the less-than-professional fuel behind his poor attempts at affection and interaction, the power imbalance is glaring. He had decided long ago any and all nonbusiness would be initiated by you. 

Knowing this, he feels stupid standing here, staring at your joined hands with his face burning. This is one the exact moments he has embarrassingly enough fantasized about. For once abstaining from you doesn’t seem like the right thing to do, and all he can do is watch and wish his own rules didn’t prevent him from pulling you closer. 

“It’s…nice.” Minimus hardly gets out without choking.

[sunstreamer]

something quick for @rocksinmuffin since our ravage jokes inspired me 🫡

no specific type of relationship in mind when these were written; can be romantic or platonic

you're originally placed on the ship as a favor to prowl - an individual with no ties to either faction (and thus, by hopefull thinking, can give unbiased reports on megatrons behavior while aboard the ship)

already having been given the rundown on every bot aboard the Lost Light by ultra magnus, you are more than aware that ravage is sentient and intelligent and perhaps even more well spoken than a good majority of the bots aboard the ship

the first time you properly meet him is at swerves, being hit on by a drunk skids whose more giggles than pickup lines and while the mech is respectful of your space and autonomy - you still grow tired of how loud he is

"i do believe the liason would like to enjoy their night in peace. perhaps ten or nautica can escort you to your quarters"

this voice is new and has a subtle gravel-esque undertone to it - quite pleasing to listen to. as you turn to look around for the owner of the voice, you look down and there he is

a mechanical panther - larger than any lion (you're sure if you were to stand beside him, his shoulder would rest just above your hip) and red optics that almost seem to flash a moment brighter when he meets your gaze

skids is lost far in his giggles and goes about his way easily (off to bother brainstorm) and ravage is quick to take his place beside you with a quick leap and followed by the subtle click of his pedes as he stalks closer

"you don't seem surprised that i'm speaking to you. even my fellow cybertronians are taken aback upon first conversation - yet, here you remain. unbothered"

you give a chuckle of your own and set your empty drink to the side, giving a (soft) dismissive wave to swerve as he collects the glass - you'v had enough drinks for the night

"ultra magnus found it of the utmost importance i be informed of any possible surprises. iv heard about the sparkeater, overlord, whirls notorious barfights. i mean this politely but... you speaking like a college professor is far from the weirdest thing i'v experienced on this ship"

ravage gives a chuckle of his own and introduces himself ("it's what you humans consider polite, yes? giving ones name even if you know it before hand")

the two of you continued to talk the night away until you recieve a text from ultra magnus, alerting you that there's a meeting you must attend in the morning and to have the energy for it, its advised to get some sleep asap

ravage escorts you to your habsuite (and you were right about his height - he comes up about midchest and it makes you think of early humans perhaps walking alongside sabers and other megafauna)

the mechanical panther bids you goodnight (you're awake when he crawls into the vent later that night - his mechanical purrs are what soothes you into sleep. its comforting, knowing someones watching out for you. there are some mechs who aren't fans of organics and despite ultra magnus' and rodimus' best efforts, you still hesitate to sleep most nights)

the next morning as you become aware of the world, you notice a distinct lack of purring and conclude ravage left sometime after you fell asleep

you're quick to get dressed and wolf down something edible in the small kitchen perceptor had installed in your habsuite (at swerve and ultra magnus' request) - and as the door to your living quarters swish open, you're met with a newly familiar face

"good morning, human" ravage purrs, his frame clicking and hissing as he stretches out before moving to rub against you, bumping you into the walkway and thus towards the council room

"... good morning, ravage. may i ask why you're here so early?"

if ravage were capable, you're sure he'd look far more smug than he already does. "is it wrong for friends to escort each other? i find your company... refreshing. there's many things i'd like your opinion on, and you'v quite a ways to walk to the meeting"

(that fun little moment is merely the prelude to the sight of you sitting atop ravage like a small pony as he trots through the ship's halls, the two of you chatting amicably - agreeing to drinks and a private chat in your habsuite later)

(the sight of ravage sprawled over you like a blanket later greets ultra magnus and almost gives him a spark attack until he hears the sound of your snores mixed in with the rumble of the mechanical panthers engines)

[shyspider]

do you have any more reccomendations? of any kind of fics?

If you're looking for anything to read, could you do me a favor and check out these authors? Some of them have written massive epics, while some wrote short ficlet snacks. Obviously check the tags, and I really hope you find what you're looking for.

@unusualjuggernaut - StarscreamxOC - mentioned them before and worth mentioning again. @moodymisty @murder-at-the-bingo-hall @montyuh - big collection on tumblr and AO3. @defaulttwig @afssh @rampantresistor @ironwolf-gone @tarot-readingz @coffeeborneaddict @allswellinthiswell - Good chunk of reader One Piece fics, but wrote other fandoms. Some of their work is on my read list. @maplesyruplover - Love their OC, CrashCart. @circuitsrewired @energonbunny @thegoldenshi-shi - They make comics on webtoonz - check it out. @vaultofqueenorion @unstabledodo @snurtsnurt @techtainia-makes-things @limited-practice - 18+ dark tf fics. Mind the tags. @authorticity - Good stuff. Highly recommend. Wholesome. @writeyouin - a massive collection of reader/TF. Their Human/Swerve series was pretty cute. @solain-rhyo - Multi-fandom. Very good. @ss-shitstorm - Because obviously you should.