Homestuck Typing Quirks Novels & Stories

And then typed. ‘Hi’ I backspaced it immediately. And then typed again. ‘Can we talk?’ Again I erased it. My fingers were statued in typing position for like two minutes and I typed again. ‘Is our contract still going on’ that was the most appropriate question to ease my nerves. My thumb was ready to tap on send. But I was still reluctant. I backspaced it again in a moment and I threw it on my side. My phone jumped a bit due to the force.

) Three dots appeared immediately. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. (I'm glad😭 because I couldn’t focus the whole drive. Kept thinking about you… that you might leave before I get back 😞) *How does he type long sentences so fast? Or maybe I’m the slow one because I am still new to this type of phone.* By the way he is so ...what's the word. Adorable? His texts are cute, I couldn't help but smile. I typed again: (Well, I’m still at your place. I didn’t leave.)

And through those pages, I confess the thing I never said aloud: that he has a son. Writing it is both relief and torture. Some days the words pour out like they’ve been waiting for years to escape me, and I type until my fingers ache and my back stiffens from hours at the kitchen table. Other days, I stare at the blinking cursor until it feels like a wound, the silence between words too heavy to break. Tessa peeks over my shoulder sometimes. “What are you typing, Is it about you?” she asked once, her little brows drawn together in suspicion.

Me: *attachment* Look what you did. I hit send as soon as I typed the message and seconds later, her typing bubble appeared before disappearing, and then it appeared again. Little flame💕: Okay, I’m proud of myself and really glad I did that. I read the message with a smile, my fingers hovering over the keyboard before I decided to type my reply. Me: Seriously, I will never let you go when you return, and I’m going to make sure that you pay for every drop you made me waste.

’ By the time we’d dissected every angle, drawn diagrams, and ranked Ashton’s abs on a ten-point scale (he scored twelve), I’d already made up my mind. After work the next day, I was lying on my sofa like a corpse, clutching my phone. I’d written and rewritten the damn message so many times, my thumbs were sore. Every time I hovered over Send, I chickened out and hit backspace. By the time the clock hit eight, I’d typed a whole novella and deleted all of it. And then the lights cut out. Dead. Black. Silent. I just lay there blinking like, seriously? My old apartment went dark every time someone sneezed too hard.

A nervous bead of sweat dropped down her forehead stinging one of her eyes while she stared at a little indicator. "ArrowOfLove is typing...." is what it said. Her breath grew a little heavier. It seemed he was taking forever to type what he was going to say. "Oh no I must have really messed up!" She thought. ——————————————- Back on the beach. The brown haired man sat there staring at the screen. Every so often he would punch a few keys, then immediately start hammering the backspace key removing it all.

"Type. Or I stop." I spin the chair back to face the screen. My hands find the keys. I force myself to type – actual words, actual sentences – while the CEO of a nine-figure company eats my pussy from behind the chair. His tongue works my clit in slow, firm circles. Two fingers push inside me, curling upward. My typing becomes erratic – typos everywhere, sentences that don't make sense – but I keep going because every time my fingers pause he pulls his mouth away and the loss is unbearable.

The cursor blinked impatiently at me, a tiny, digital pulse mocking my internal turmoil. I started typing, deleting, and retyping three separate drafts before my fingers finally committed to a simple, direct command. Adrian: "Hey. How are you feeling tonight? Are you up for some company? I’ll come pick you up after I wrap up here, and you can sleep over at my place." I hovered my finger over the send button, my heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against my ribs.

Typed it again. Stephanie. To see it there felt like trespass. He closed his eyes for a moment and then made himself look back at the screen. He typed; Steph, The word alone undid him. He looked at it for a full minute before moving on. "I don’t know how to explain this without seeming crazy, but you need to understand that I never abandoned you. Not willingly. Not once." His chest tightened. His hands were trembling.

She was typing at over a hundred and forty words per minute, her fingers flying across the keyboard with a terrifying, mechanical precision. She opened her eyes, staring at the screen in absolute shock. Lines of complex, elegant counter-code were pouring onto the terminal, hunting down the Covenant's polymorphic virus. "Well," Maya muttered, her eyes wide as her fingers continued to work completely independently of her brain. "Apparently my head is completely empty, but my hands drink six espressos a day." Julian let out a breath that was half-relief, half-laugh, the first sliver of light breaking through his suffocating darkness. "You always did type faster than I could think."