#anyway this was an odd vent post??

[mrskreideprinz]

can’t tell if i’m falling out of love for writing fanfic or if i’ve just been super stressed out lately ahaha

[nebula-remnants]

There might not be art posted for a while. If you don’t have my Twitter it’s just me tweaking over math assignments (possibly a mix of depressive episode in there too. But fuck it we ball)

[nygleskas]

erm. thinking. possibility of jean being as annoying abt me as i am with him. possibility of him becoming a mushy/lovey dovey drunk after we're together (as opposed to him [canonically] being a sad drunk) . like he's just so so annoying he's turning every conversation into smth about us and he's rambling to anyone willing (and unwilling) to listen abt me and if i'm not in his immediate vicinity for 5 minutes he starts acting like "whereee is my boyfriend i miss him when will he return from War btw did you know i love him" . etcetera.

[sherdnerd]

The absolute devestation of being someone who reads far too much into texts, having two of your closest friends be bad texters They always either sound bored or uninterested or barely text at all, and regardless of how enthusiastic they sound when you call or the fact that they'll call for multiple hours 3 times in the same week will fix that

[dragondens]

To actually reblog stuff here on this blog instead of my reblog blog or not.

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

.

[aworldofendlesswonder]

heugh

[thebibliosphere]

tw compulsive behavior, skin picking, self-harm, acne. I am perfectly fine; this is just a vent post because I'm driving myself bananas.

So, like a lot of people with ADHD I'm a chronic skin picker.

Except I never used to call it that. I've called it "skincare" for the last 20-odd years and kidded myself that because I used skincare tools to "extract imperfections," I was actually taking care of my skin.

That I've left myself with serious scars from doing this was neither here nor there in my mind.

I've since realized that was bullshit and started tackling it in therapy for the problem it is after my therapist finally helped me realize that it's a form of self-harm that's been masquerading as a skincare routine, so really, I need to get a handle on it because, yeah. That's not great.

And it was going fine. Great, even. Until the mild drugstore cleanser meant for sensitive skin that my old dermatologist recommended, but I never tried until recently, gave me the worst cystic acne breakout of my life.

Because, of course, it did. And, of course, it's taking a glacial age to heal, so that's fun. Love that. Love feeling like my jawline is glowing with pain from all these little lumps and bumps.

Anyway. I'm being so brave right now and not tearing my skin off the way I want to. So, so brave. Not at all having a bit of a breakdown over my face having Textures I can't compulsively gouge out. Nope. No sirree. All fine here.

[operator-report]

do you have any ideas about the undersiders music tastes. your other posts are so beautiful and true

aaah i'm so glad you liked my silly music posts! after some thought this is what i've landed on for the undersiders: taylor: in my heart taylor's mom did this to her, which is why taylor has a better-than-average teen girl knowledge of blondie, neil young, and the police. i think taylor's taste is a mix of dad rock and alt-pop rock hits. she likes the strokes and arctic monkeys. maybe a little mgmt. after her mom dies she stops listening to music that reminds her of her mom, so much less 70s/80s rock, but i don't think she switches to sadder music or anything like that, i think her taste just skews more contemporary after that. after the bullying started she tried out heavy metal really early on because she figured angry music might help her vent but it wasn't her thing. taylor does not listen to radiohead but she's the undersider who would like it the best i think. karma police is a taylor song send tweet

brian: there's a post out there somewhere that talks about brian listening to imagine dragons and that is SO real to me. he listens to imagine dragons. he listens to "tough" guy music that sounds like it could be in car commercials. he also listens to dudes rock music he hears at the gym. brian and taylor both like to match their music to their workouts and they have an immensely geeky conversation about matching bpm at one point. taylor matches it to her running brian matches it to boxing they are in nerd-jock heaven

lisa: she's a tricky one, because the music industry is one that both values authenticity and yet is extremely manufactured. i think that means that lisa finds music in which rich musicians make music about how hard their life is immensely grating. i think sarah livsey's taste was influenced by her brother, and much like how taylor does not listen to music that reminds her of her mom, lisa does not listen to music that sarah used to like. another smugbug yuri of absence moment if you ask me. anyway all that means that lisa listens to three kinds of music: downtempo instrumental electronic, classical, and We Are Up Partying In The Club Tonight Ooh Girl Oh Yeah. i think she finds, e.g., pitbull and eurotrance endearing. if you ask lisa what her favorite kind of music is she'll say something obnoxious like IDM or some shit just to see what the reaction is

rachel: i looked up "do dogs listen to music" and google says they will listen to classical sometimes, so! there you go. if worm took place a little later i think taylor could have introduced limited doses of lofi hip hop study beats to rachel and she would be ok with that too but also like. why listen to music when she could be outside listening to her dogs

aisha: the undersider with the best taste! we know that early worm aisha is a bona fide scene teen, and i think she consequently likes blink-182, pierce the veil, 3oh!3, cobra starship, and maybe a little bring me the horizon. in later worm aisha's taste gets less pop, like deftones, odd future, etc. she's a supervillain who would actually listen to madvillainy. aisha is also probably the only undersider who actively seeks to cultivate her own music taste! a good chunk of the undersiders have trauma that separate them from their interests and/or feelings, but aisha is an undersider who i think is both self aware and also true to herself, as well as being genuinely interested in art!

alec: speaking of undersiders who have a difficult time developing a defined music taste due to being cut off from a strong sense of self. alec in early worm is too depressed/apathetic to seek out music for himself, he'd rather be playing video games or watching movies. which is a shame because disassociating to music is one of the depressed activities of all time! alas alec's vision of a person with Taste is like. cherie. rip. however, aisha completely turns his life around into a guy who likes...................... soulja boy

there you go! tried to keep this period typical and also didn't include bands we know for sure didn't exist on earth bet (such as mcr). however i am very sad aisha and alec didn't get to listen to 100 gecs together. can you imagine. i can imagine and that's why i have a beautiful aishalec amv set to doritos and fritos in my mind

[cordeliawhohung]

Soft Spot Dissection (Blood Soaked Cotton)

soft spot master list | links to answered asks | major spoilers for the series if you haven't read it, this is me picking apart my writing as a personal project <3

Welcome! First, I’d like to mention that I have no idea what I’m doing with this dissection. I’m attempting to put it in an essay-like format for ease of reading, but trying not to make it too essay-like so that it’s boring, ya know? A lot of this is going to be me just… copying and pasting paragraphs and then talking about it. So, just pretend that this is some really thought out opening paragraph and that I’ve got a killer thesis sentence and that this isn’t just some half-cracked author venting about her work. Capiche? Thanks. 

Anyway, we come to the first installment of Soft Spot: Blood Soaked Cotton. I’ve mentioned this a few times before, but this whole series actually started out as a one shot. Hence the rather… odd name. Believe it or not, but I actually really dislike the title Soft Spot. It’s just… not me. Not how I like naming things. It was a title I panic chose when I realized I wanted to write more. If I had the opportunity to change it, I’d honestly go with Everything You Touch. Fits the vibe more, in my opinion. But that’s beside the point. 

Anyway, it’s so jarring to read this story. I haven’t really actually sat down and read any of the parts after I posted them, and it’s crazy to start out with Simon and Spook not knowing one another. Just… strangers. Had I known this was going to be a longer series, I wouldn’t have started it out the way I did. With the little internal monologue with Simon. It works, in a way, and I don’t know what I would’ve changed it to, but it wouldn’t have been this. 

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Really, it wasn’t supposed to happen at all. But things never exactly work out how we think they will, and Simon Riley wasn’t a stranger to surprises.”

Just sounds… so flat, compared to how I started every other part lmao. 

Have a good one. It was always the same farewell you gave him. Of course the factitious answer that came to mind was ‘have a good one what?’ but he knew better than to be a smart ass. But really, the question truly was a valid one in his mind. Have a good what? Day? Afternoon? Life? He was too far gone for that. 

I based Simon’s facetious answer off of something my old co-worker’s husband used to say. I hated him. He was a prick. But it’s the type of bluntness I thought Simon would hold lmao. But then Simon’s thought, of him being too far gone for a good life, was sorta done intentionally when I wrote it. Because he’s supposed to see that he can have a good life when he meets Spook (: 

It tore the delicate skin of your bottom lip vertically, nearing the corner of your mouth. Dark, crunchy scabs clogged the wound up, and he could tell by the way your tongue kept prodding at it that it smarted something fierce. But it didn’t stop there. A slight bruise on the back part of your cheekbone, an even deeper bruise peeking out from underneath your blouse on your collarbone, a broken nail that chipped off uncomfortably close to your nail bed. 

Re: Referencing Spook’s injuries. I wish I had referred back to this, her wounds, in Everything You Touch. I think the parallels would’ve been heartbreaking. Hindsight is 20/20 or whatever. Especially because in this first installment, Simon is haunted by Spook. Constantly sees her injuries, and it chases after him worse than anything he’s seen in the field sorta thing. Oh well. 

It used to be white, but had been stained by various things over the years he had it, and it even sported some fraying on the edges. It was clean, at least. Because of this, he was extremely surprised to hear your response to him.  “I’ll ruin it.” 

Re: Simon giving Spook his handkerchief when her lip started to bleed. Her comment here, I’ll ruin it. Although unintentional, it gives the impression that she’s always, in some sort of way, been afraid of filth. She’s always feared the rot inside of her and of transferring it to someone else, like she’s sick with some disease. Sort of makes her obsession with being clean later in the series a bit more understandable. These were just the very first few hints of it. 

“Figured you’d need another one after I ruined the one you gave me,” you said, wiggling it in your hands for him to take. “You also strike me as a dog person, so this seemed fitting.”

Re: Spook giving Simon a new handkerchief a few weeks/days/whatever later. This is so funny to me. You also strike me as a dog person. Be so for real right now. As if you didn’t bring home a gooey pile of cat a few years later. As if that weird freak doesn’t grow into being Simon’s best bud. I love them. 

October brought in a sharp chill to the air that had you wearing a nice knitted sweater to help stave off the draft in the building. Its dark background with popping jack-o-lantern theme matched perfectly with your area of the bank. Despite it only being halfway through the month you had already prepared for Halloween with a bowl of candy sitting on the counter and themed jelly stickers on the window behind you. 

Though it was never explicitly said, Halloween is Spook’s favorite holiday (: Which is unfortunate. Keep this in mind.

“Must be neat,” you said in awe. “Despite all the military stuff, anyway. I bet you get to travel the world and see so many neat things. I’d kill for an opportunity like that… no pun intended.” 

I wrote this pun on accident and then reread the sentence and was like wow. A bit on the nose but I’m keeping this. 

“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” you said softly, head returning to lean against your hand as you looked up at him. Even sitting next to him he was still so much bigger than you. “Honestly, I thought you were going to say no. Doesn’t really seem like your type of place so… just know I appreciate it.”  What gave that impression? His tense shoulders? Or his eyes flickering around the room at least twenty times every minute like he was constantly on edge?  “Don’t mention it,” he said, his voice low and rumbly.  You smiled something soft, something fleeting as your eyes dropped down to look at his hands clasped around the cup of water. He hadn’t taken a single sip of it the entire time the two of you sat there. Not that you had expected him to, anyway. Certainly not with that mask of his. Maybe some time in the future you’d ask him about it, but that moment wasn’t the right time. 

Rereading this, I think Spook has a love for broken things just as much as Simon does. Which is why she’s so drawn to him, despite his appearances. Which is why he lets her get close even though he knows it’s not a good idea. They’re both sad, broken people. And in a way, they’ve been sort of disconnected from “normal” people. It’s hard for Spook to find a partner who understands her situation. It’s hard for Simon to find a partner who can handle his aloofness. So when they find each other? It’s only natural that they’re so impossibly drawn to one another. 

You slipped away before he could protest that idea, and he grumbled as he pushed his cup of water towards the end of the bar. Shitty music filled his ears as he sat there waiting for you, and without your voice to drown out the commotion around him, it consumed him. Sharp crack of the billiard balls crashing together, the scent of greasy pub pizza, the ringing of a bell as the door opened, the chilling October breeze bleeding into the building, the stale scent of cigarettes. 

Though it’s only hinted at minorly, Eric, Spook’s ex, was a smoker. Hence the smell of cigarettes that’s mentioned here as the door opens. This is where Eric enters and starts to make a fuss. Etc etc etc. 

Then came the sound of flesh crashing against flesh as the palm of your hand slapped the man across the face. It was enough to grab the attention of everyone in the surrounding area, including the bartender who looked like he was one bad comment away from dialing 999.  “Get your fucking hands off of me,” you seethed. Unfortunately for you, the slap hardly seemed to phase him, and his grip only tightened. The man’s jaw set taut as his other hand came up and grabbed your waist with bruising force, drawing you closer to him as he bared his teeth in a snarling grin. 

Okay. OKAY. Everyone listen up!!! The entire story? Yeah? And Spook’s trauma? There’s this whole motif that I — quite frankly — abused the fuck out of. It’s violence. This whole, trying to break the cycle, of knowing violence, of experiencing violence, things of that sort. And then what do we get? Spook being violent. Spook is the first character throughout the entire series to ever show violence. To hit someone. To demand something of them. Sure, Eric fucking deserves it, and she was obviously beaten before, but that doesn’t change the fact she is the first character to be explicitly violent. (:

This was done by accident. Something that I came across while re-reading and it just hits so hard. Almost like it’s hinting at something terrible. That no matter how hard she tries to distance herself from her abusive past, it’s too ingrained in her DNA for her to escape it. 

It was disgusting. The very sight of that man with his hands on you like he had won a prize. Greedy fingers digging into your flesh like he planned to take, and take, and take. Simon had seen it all before. Seen it in his own flesh as unwanted hands clawed at him. Felt it on his face in the form of a vile, wet tongue swiping around his mouth. It was in the screams he couldn’t hold back as the hook tore through his flesh. It was in the blood that spilled down his body as he hung there while they laughed. It was in the maggots that he sat in as he was buried alive. It was- It was the pain he felt in his hand as his knuckles collided with the man’s jaw, snapping his head to an uncomfortable angle. In an instant his body went rigid and then limp. Those revolting hands fell away from you as his body collided with the floor beneath him, and the only sound he was able to make was a fit of air leaving his lungs upon impact. 

Here we have Simon essentially blacking out. Of seeing Spook’s trauma and realizing that they aren’t so different. I think that’s what ultimately attracted him to her in the first place. The fact that she wasn’t just broken, but she was like him. Even if he didn’t fully know it yet. Their pasts had been intertwined in some disgusting, twisted way this entire time, and I think this is the moment he starts to realize it. 

Never before had he been so glad to harm someone. Any other time it was a necessity. Saving himself. Saving a comrade. Nothing that he ever took pleasure or joy in. It was just work. But that? Hurting that man the way he did? He took joy in that.

Another accidental thing I did here, but I totally forgot about this paragraph. Of Simon enjoying what he did to Eric (kicking his ass). Makes the conversation Spook and Bukin have later in the series all the more terrifying. Specifically: 

“I think he likes the blood and the gore of violence. There is something comforting about spilling blood knowing that it lessens the chance of your own being poured. He finds safety in death. And while I can appreciate the sentiment, I never really had the stomach for blood. No, I prefer to watch things squirm.” 

Once again, this started off as a one shot, and I never reread this fucking part while writing so this is all by accident but it makes my stomach churn in a way I can’t describe lmao. 

“See you next week, Simon.”  That was the moment that he decided he liked the way his name sounded when you said it. You never barked it like an order, or screamed it in anger. He had hated his name for a long while, hated being called anything other than his callsign for work. But when it came from your lips, well, maybe it wasn’t all that terrible.  “Yeah,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. The band-aids pulled awkwardly at his skin as he paused on the porch of your apartment. “See you next week.” 

There’s something to be said about this farewell. It’s why I referenced it again in the epilogue in the synopsis. I think it’s the first goodbye that they say to one another that they don’t really want to say. Because they — whether they realize it or not — are already so terribly attached to one another. And honestly, I wish I had ended the part here rather than going further into detail. I felt like I was over explaining it. Everything is already right here. 

Anyway; that’s about everything I have for this part. I know it’s not a whole lot, but like I mentioned before, this was supposed to be a one shot, so this part doesn’t have a whole lot of… meaning behind it. Besides the few accidents that I found, anyway lmao. As always, feel free to send any questions about the work my way! Things I didn’t cover in this part that you’re still curious about, things of that sort!

[koffeeaddiction]

Uh New description YAY!...

WELCOME TO MY CHAOTIC BLOG WHERE I DO RANDOM STUFF FOR MY OWN ENTERTAINMENT!!!

So this blog is kind of a huge mess, its like very messy and most of the post here are reblogs btw! So uh anyways-

✨️Intruduction!✨️:

-My i go by Koffee/Kai but my muts mostly calls me koffee.

-I go by any pronouns ( i like to keep my gender a secret sometimes 😅) and i'm Aroace

-I'm an artist so i do art sometimes but i barely have motivation rn and i don't plan to open request again

-I'm filipino 🇵🇭 but i can barely understand tagalog 🥲

-I like coffee to an unhealty amount

-I'm chaotic good or chaotic nutural idk

-I apologize for my bad english and grammar, its not very good sometimes

RULES!!!:

-You can block or leave my blog alone but do not leave nasty comments in my inbox or comment section if you do not like my content

-Pls do not force me to draw your oc or a character you like, i am free to decide if i draw it or not.

-pls speak english when you speak to me, i have difficult time understanding other languages but i am willing to learn if i have time

Edit: i post vent post or art sometimes so feel free so ignore it if uncomfortable.

Edit2: don't be afraid to vent to me, i may not have the best advice or words to say but i'm willing to listen to you :)

Edit3: this blog can got really bright colors and to calm colors so stuff and vibes are a bit odd here

Others stuff:

Oc refrence sheets:

Others still in progress...

Other blogs:

@koffee-memes

Mood board:

[belethlegwen]

General li'l update

So, things have done anything but slow down for me in the real world. To keep it as vague as possible, there's a chance I'll be losing my job within the next month or so, though we're all currently working on possible solutions to this. Hoping for the best.

I've already done my panicking and preemptive grieving. 18 years in a single career is a hell of a run for someone my age, and if it has to come to an end then I've made at least some peace with that idea.

Still though, working every day to find solutions. To fix things. To keep surviving. It's exhausting, I will not lie. We're doing what we can over here.

There's so, so much good to look forward to this year. These are just bumpy patches of road. And some of the bumpiest roads I've driven on have taken me to the best places I've ever been. I'll be alright. I know I'll be alright. I'll be more than alright, by the time this is all said and done.

Been doing more reading of late, which I've been loving. You all are putting out such amazing work and I love bouncing in to read even if it takes me 3 attempts and a couple of hours to get through a posted chapter. Lovely escapes, all around.

My sister turned me onto a game ("game" kind of seems like an odd word for it but either way) on steam called Spirit City: Lofi Sessions. You customize a character, you have a little room, it plays lofi music at you and you can poke at a few playlists, build soundscapes around it (rain noises, thunder, wind, birds chirping, crackling fire etc etc) while your character mills about in spots doing things as just a beautiful little vibe-generator. You can collect spirit pals to vibe with you. It's just really cozy and nice, I love it. Highly recommend.

It has an optioning for in-app journaling, and I've been meaning to get back into journaling regularly just for the sake of my memory and everything else. That's been a huge boon over the last 2-3 days. It's got a productivity timer, to-do list, daily task/habits tracker.

Anyway, I've been making progress on writing but it's slow, staggered. Hit a bit of a wall last night with some of The Stranding where I wrote 8.5 pages of a scene and then just felt... unhappy with it. I had clearly lost the thread of why I started writing it, and needed to walk away to see if a fresher mind could find a place to rewind to and pivot so I can salvage it, or if I'm just gonna carve the whole thing out and set it in the Cut Scenes doc. The other 20 pages I've got waiting? Fine. Good, even. Proud of those. This one, I'm proud of what I'm writing but again... just feels more like floating aimlessly and bouncing. It was clear I wrote it while heavily distracted or with gaps between focus, so it jumps.

I'll see what I can salvage. Can't promise an update and am avoiding making it feel like I'm 'back on schedule' just to find something I can reduce pressure from in my life for the time being. But: I love you all. The Kudos, the views, the comments, the everything. It means a lot. You're all great.

If I do any generic vent/vibe writing, not necessarily attached to anything, I'll consider sharing it here for y'all. You guys deserve a bit of fun and sunshine <3

Have a great time everyone, love y'all to bits <3

~ Belle

[poeticamethyst]

Okay yall I don’t vent but after seeing one of my friends post about someone talking smack about Miguel, I had to share this- like maybe it wasn’t the same person they were talking about but what are the odds of that 💀 anyways my point is projecting your emotions about the characters onto the actor is a big no no.. it’s only making them the same as the other toxic Stan’s they mention.. I can say so much but I’ll just leave this here .. idk what their problem is all they do is complain everyday on social media lol

[cozzzynook]

Rodimus feeling something weird and panicking because he thinks something is wrong with the sparkling only to realize it was kicking.

It’s an odd time when his sparkling makes their presence and new development known.

It’s late in the evening and Soundwave is recharging beside him. Tired from a long days work and countless negotiations that he scheduled today so he could take creator leave to be with Rodimus.

He would be working from home now sure but the change was more than welcome in Rodimus optics since he could bask in his sparkmates em field.

He was having a hard time getting comfortable in berth lately. Not something he told Soundwave in hopes of helping his mate stay stress free or at least try to anyway.

Like tonight just as he did the last two nights he slowly shifted and wiggled from berth and stood on sore pedes for a moment. Holding the berth post before waddling out, servo on his stretched out tank while the other opened the door to their home.

He stood outside looking at their galaxies moons and nebula as he shifted and rubbed his tanks.

Odd feeling in his racing spark and fluttering engine that melted in tune with his spoiler before a jolt caught him off guard from his tanks. He gasped gripping his middle fearing he was going into emergence. The emotion crossed the bond and before he could blink his optics Soundwave was griping his frame and asking question after question.

“Rodimus what are you doing out here?! Why aren’t you in berth?! Whats wrong? Is it the sparkling? Are you in emergence? What is it?!”

Rodimus was starting to sob with coolant leaking his optics when he felt the familiar jolt again in the same spot.

Something in his processor stalled and his spark felt tingly and warm. He decided to listen to his frame and put a servo on Soundwave’s chassis for both their sakes. Taking a deep vent he put his servo over the spot of his lower tank closest to Soundwave and felt the little jolt once more.

Optics shining with coolant for a different reason as he quickly grabbed Soundwave’s servo and placed it on his tank.

He smiled in a daze as he felt the familiar, slightly heavy and welcome thump of a sparkling, their sparkling.

“They kicked,” he sobbed for an entirely new reason, optics alight with his conjunx following.

“They kicked,” Soundwave said astonished, rushing his and Rodimus servo around his tanks to feel for the next movement.

Laughing carefree as he felt the next movement.

“They’re moving, Rodimus they’re moving! Our bitlet. They’re really in there,” he joyed aloud uncaring of the late hour.

Rodimus couldn’t be bothered to worry for the neighbors as he and Soundwave stood outside their home, servos clasped as they enjoyed the feeling of their sparkling moving for the very first time.

He looked his mate in the optics and whispered, “I love you,” pressing their helms together.

“I love you too. Both of you,” Soundwave elated, pressing closer, “both of you.”

—

Tips on my kofi are much appreciated 🥰

[lets-try-some-writing]

I hope to see more of your Optimus ghost au

maybe something went wrong when Optimus got sent to the real world and still had some ghostly attributes?

I meant to answer this forever ago, but alas, life is a thing. ANYWAY here it is! The continuation of this post I intended to make two eternities ago.

Previous part here.

Bad Habits

Optimus spent almost a half a vorn as nothing more than a wandering spirit. He grew accustomed to it and had exactly zero issues with his situation after a time and was rather content with himself after the emotions of mortality faded in favor of boredom. It was a dull existence, but not without its perks.

Spending so long as a ghost allowed his attachment to mortal emotions to fade to a degree. He no longer felt his emotions as strongly and instead found himself unconcerned with things, preferring instead to make commentary on it and watch from a distance. He came to enjoy being able to float wherever he desired without need for sustenance or rest after the longing passed. He was particularly fond of being able to think of a mech and transport directly to their location so he could watch and comment as he pleased.

By the time he arrived on earth to oversee Bumblebee's attempts to deal with the Decepticon influence there, and later the Fallen, he was completely at peace with his situation. It was boring, but Bee's companions were entertaining enough to keep him engaged. Then of course the other Primes dragged him from his peaceful existence and right in front of Bee and his team, wrapped him in a mortal frame once more, even going so far as the shove the Matrix in his chassis again.

It was so sudden and it hurt. He was certain that throughout the process he was screaming so loudly that if he weren't being remade, he would have damaged something. It was agony and when the work was done he could only fall to the ground limply, unable to move as he was forced to adjust to living again. Venting suddenly became a concious choice, touch and sensation were so overwhelming as to be painful, and he had no control of his field or even his basic biology. It had been too long and he had long forgotten the finer details of how to operate in a mortal body.

Bumblebee and his team were of course quick to assist, but Optimus merely flinched and groaned as they hauled him to his pedes only for him to be as clumsy as a newspark. Micronus spoke plainly, demanding Optimus end the Fallen himself and going on about how Optimus's frame was infused with the strength of all the Primes or something along those lines. He was too tired and overwhelmed to process much and so promptly passed out from sheer data overload.

When he woke he spent days slowly and rather painfully relearning the most basic of skills, ranging from walking to speaking. He could tell Bee was worried and that his team were disappointed and concerned. Optimus paid them little mind and focused himself on his task, opting not to be around the team as much as he could so as to not make a mistake. It was difficult adjusting, but he managed to fight the Fallen fairly well by relying on the Matrix to guide his steps and take partial control of his frame where he no longer had mastery.

However once the battle was over and Optimus was left without much to do, the oddities and issues that came from his almost half a vorn floating around as a ghost came to light rather quickly. The most obvious issue Optimus dealt with was the fact that he needed to be around other mecha again. He had always watched and commented on what went on around him, it was his method of coping. However now that he was living again, he quickly came to the realization that the personality he developed for himself to get by would no longer work in a social setting.

He hardly noticed at first when he would stand around, watching blankly as Bee and his team worked. He only realized how odd he must have seemed when he received fearful glances that spoke of worry for their performance in return for his staring. In those instances he often walked away without a word, regularly finding himself confused when he felt any actual strain to his movements before remembering that he was mortal once more. He also found himself not touching anything, just... standing and observing, reading over the shoulders of others instead of collecting a book by himself. The team were too unnerved to comment and so allowed the behavior and endured Optimus musings as he spoke as if no one could hear him.

Optimus wandered any and all parts of the base, uncaring of social norms and customs or even privacy. When he grew bored, he would walk the halls and enter into any room he felt like exploring, often walking straight into a wall expecting to pass through before he tried the doors instead. Bee and his team quickly learned to lock their doors at night so that Optimus wouldn't meander right on in without a care in the world. However sometimes that didn't stop him from being unnerving as he would pace up and down the halls singing songs and making all sorts of very bitter commentary.

He was not asked to do much save for rest and recover and to focus on reorienting himself. Thus Optimus continued with life as if he was still but a ghostly specter since nothing was expected of him. He watched, he wandered, and he tried in vain a great many times to transport back to Cybertron to check in on Megatron and Knockout as he would have as a spirit.

There were other things beyond his simple inability to socialize. Optimus hardly rested and when he felt any sort of strain he was always left startled and confused as to what to do. He completely forgot about fueling for nearly a week and was confused as to what was wrong with his frame before Bee handed him an energon cube looking more concerned that Optimus forgot that he needed fuel more so than his lack of fueling. Not only that, but Optimus tended to walk everywhere, never transforming and never running. He just walked without a care in the world even when there were actual issues that required speed to be seen to. He was only reminded of his alt-mode when the team yelled at him to transform when he got caught up in a fight by tailing the team.

Pain was one of those odd things he never really understood after being restored. He knew it well while he lived, but upon his restoration every wound was a stark and noticeable thing. Even the slightest trip could have him holding back a scream as pain and damage reports flooded his processors. The team didn't understand, and neither did Optimus. They stopped bringing him on missions shortly after his battle with the Fallen because of his oddities. He didn't mind much.

Optimus also just... didn't recharge. He needed it, but he wouldn't rest until he passed out cold without meaning to. He would spend days going without any recharge simply because he was unused to it and preferred being up and about so he could continue to watch. It frightened Bee and his team to find Optimus stalking silently, watching and waiting as they worked. Sometimes the Prime would sit in total silence on top of the cars in the junkyard, commenting and laughing as they trained or busied themselves. He was generally left alone due to how freaky his action were, however Optimus was startled when one outraged Sideswipe had enough of his words and addressed him where the others were too nervous to do so.

Optimus: How very disappointing.

Sideswipe: What?

Optimus: During the war even the youngest of soldiers could throw a right hook correctly. What happened to the teachings of warriors? Did it fade from the veins of Cybertron now that peace has been granted?

Sideswipe: Hey-!

Optimus: Look at that, now the youngling is upset. No self control at all. He won't last a day in an actual battlefield.

Sideswipe: I CAN HEAR YOU OPTIMUS!

Optimus: .... Apologies.

The Prime looked genuinely shocked to be addressed and that was the final nail in the coffin. Optimus stopped talking entirely and fell silent, instead continuing to hover and watch. He pulled away from everyone with a cold apathy that left the team fearful of something that wasn't there. It was during this time that the lingering aspects of Optimus's long time as a wandering ghost began to become obvious to the team.

Before they refused to ask, chalking Optimus's oddities up to him getting used to living again. But now that they looked, they could see everything.

Optimus was unusually quiet for a mech of his size, to the point where it made no sense whatsoever. It was as if the world itself refused to acknowledge he was there. Every movement was near silent, his plating hardly ever making a noise and his steps obscured by a strange calm that made it impossible to locate the Prime with hearing alone. Even his colors felt muted at times, his frame almost blending into the background because of some strange force that decided Optimus was not allowed to be noticed unless he wished for it.

It was odd, very odd, and highly concerning. Thus without any idea what to do, Bumblebee took the initiative to call upon Ratchet for aid, a call that was also answered by Megatron the moment the former warlord heard that Optimus was restored. All the while Optimus continued to watch, to wait, and observe. Silent as ever and content to remain a simple wraith, forgotten by the living and exiled from the ranks of the dead.

[kiyocuck]

kiyotaka tumblr user ramble

was thinkinf about this yesterday and i think ive cracked the idea of taka having tumblr, im an absolute genius and you will hear me out Okay

basically hes like a gimmick tumblr account that got famous for posting specific stuff and being Odd about it

the things he posts are like 5000 word posts just talking about his day in excruciating detail, talking about his studies and whatnot. it feels *weird* reading it bcuz hes describing oddly specific things like what he uses to clean his boots or whatever but its still Somewhat normal-ish.

he gets asks and replies to them with some unrelated tangent, some people ask him if hes autistic and hes like That is a very interesting question, I have actually done research in my spare time, because alot of my acquaintances are on the "Spectrum", and one of them, who thinks hes some 'Overlord of Ice', threw his pet hamsters at me and they scratched me on the face, and I had to go to the nurse in case he did not vaccinate them, I did not want to get rabies potentially, and-

basically letting his thoughts out without needing to sound like hes lecturing someone, he treats his blog like a diary and barely even realizes just how much attention he gets bcuz he logs in to post and then logs out

Occasionally, however, he will post something like "I cannot do this anymore I hate my life" and right after that he will post again "Apologies for the previous post, I was unmedicated, I am okay now. Anyway," and start talking about his studies again or whatever. and the funniest part is that he will not delete any sudden episode posts like that. he knows he can delete posts, but he doesnt think its worth hiding anything, which is why if he makes One grammar mistake in the 4 pages essay long posts, he will just reblog it correcting the ONE error like "*you're. I misspelled, sorry." and you are left to go look for that mistake he made in the first place

he will occasionally turn his posts into vents or nonsensical rambles like "I was reading a book about self-care recently, it was very informing. One of the chapters said 'It's important to have people in your life to support you'. Why does no one love me? Who should I rely on for support? What is wrong with me?" and people will reblog it like OP are you alright you can talk to us:( and he'll be like I'm perfectly okay dont ask me questions please (<-about to have another episode)

this turned out a bit depressive but take it in a funny way okay i just like to think about him alot even though i hate him and want him to die again by My hands