#I would just like to say that I could elaborate so much more on the sibling falling out thing because I’ve been cooking for YEARS

[keferon]

Chapter 2 of Blurr storyline >:D

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head is all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Part one

Holy shit I actually managed to finish it…..Oh. My god.

Under the cut⤵️

Is it stupid to miss someone who doesn't even exist?

Probably yes, but hey, Swerve already has several degrees, might as well get another one. A degree in Stupidity or something. Who cares?

For the first few days after waking up from his coma, he feels like he's going crazy. Everybody has realistic dreams, right? The ones where you can scrutinize every angle, memorize every face and smell and sound. The ones that make you lie still for a while after waking up, grasping at every thing you can. Trying to memorize everyone you meet, imprint them in your head.

Because apart from your mind, they don't exist anywhere else. So that's your only way to keep them.

It never works. Obviously. Details slip away. Impressions fade. Just a couple days, and you won't be able to recall anything but the main events from memory.

Wait, hell, not days. Cycles.

His life is a weird, pathetic, fantastical circus. Earth term. Heh. There are no circuses on Cybertron, haha!

But Swerve remembers. And the word circus, and the smell of asphalt, and rains that were made of water not acid. Remembers the English language. Can speak it fluently, even if you wake him up in the middle of the night.

Remembers his work schedule and remembers which company makes the best details. And Tailgate with his bright blue uniform and Wheeljack with his endless experiments and Swindle with his expensive coat and of course...yeah, no, don't think of Blurr, don't think of Blurr, don't. Don't.

He'd heard about it. Read about it, too. Mechs waking up from comas and doing wild things. Some forgot how to speak at all, some gained a new skill, some lived a whole life while they slept.

Articles tell Swerve, don't worry, what you've experienced isn't unique. The doctor tells Swerve that the same thing has happened to others before you, it will be okay, it will pass.

Swerve isn't sure he wants it to pass.

He's been in a coma for who knows how long. The medic said it was caused by an internal trauma that decided to suddenly get worse. One minute he's recharging , the next he's gone. Internal injuries are insidious.

So it turns out. One day he just disappeared from the world because he was busy slowly dying in his room and no one noticed until a thief tried to sneak in. The only one who came to him was a Mech who wanted to steal his stuff. Huh.

That feels revolting. Swerve liked to think he had enough friends. Or at least enough good connections. Enough those who should have noticed his absence, right?

Apparently not. His shifts at work were reassigned, his contacts never texted him first, his...

His small persona wasn't important enough for anyone to notice his disappearance.

Would his human coworkers notice? Would Tailgate have noticed? Or Jazz? Swindle?

Jazz would have noticed, he was always surprisingly attentive when it came to his friends. And he was friends with just about everybody.

Swindle would probably get upset about the money he'd lost.

It's amazing how much his brain-- wait, no, his processor. How much his processor could create to entertain him. It's a more elaborate world than the most complex series Swerve has ever known. And that scrap had forty-six seasons and fifteen encyclopedias!

People, Earth, a bunch of new languages and rules and all for the sake of the end being like, OOPS! ...it was all a dream. Hilarious. Worst plot twist ever. Swerve hates it when stories go in this direction even more than when they kill off their characters.

In his humble opinion, death is better than the revelation that none of the experiences made sense or had any value. In terms of writing scripts obviously. Haha.

He's busy roaming haphazardly through his own memory. He's looking, comparing, trying to find inconsistencies or things that don't make sense. All the stuff that usually gives away the fact that what happened was a dream.

Most of his memories are occupied by--No. Frag.

Don't think about Blurr, don't think about Blurr, don't think..

He's thinking about Blurr. A lot.

Blurr occupies a surprisingly important role in his comatose dreams.

In the time he spent just looking at him, you could hand-build an entire Mech. Maybe even three. Swerve remembers picking up every bit of merch he could reach with his paycheck. Watching hundreds of videos and buying every new themed drink even if it was a flavor he didn't like.

Then spent a surprising amount of time resenting Blurr for not living up to his fantasies.

Blurr's behavior hadn't helped either, of course, but now, looking back at the past himself Swerve thinks that.. Oh wow. You weren't just annoyed at him. You blamed him for ruining your beautiful fantasy. You were having so much fun entertaining yourself with thoughts of this marvelous image, and he came along and corrupted it. Poisoned the well you drank joy from.

But that's not quite true, Swerve thinks.

Blurr was more complicated than that. But exactly how, he'll never know. All he has are his memories, and those memories are cut short at the most interesting point.

Swerve knows this plot twist. The asshole character that no one loves at the last second turns out to not be what everyone thought, but it's too late.

Oh no, he's not an evil jerk, he's actually traumatized. Oh no, he wasn't bad, he was actually secretly helping everyone. You thought he was awful? Well now you're going to feel awful reading fanfics.

Serevus Spayne didn't actually betray the main character's dad, no no, he was in love with him! Bam. Drama.

Swerve isn't a big fan of this stuff. He likes his characters developed properly. But he can't deny the appeal of a character leaving behind a bunch of questions you thought you knew the answer to.

Uggh.

The doctor was wrong. These thoughts don't go away. These memories don't dull.

Swerve just boils in them, constantly getting stuck in his own head. Sometimes he puts English words into his speech and everyone looks at him strangely. Sometimes he reflexively says some inside joke and no one gets it and he's left standing there with an awkward smile. Because. Guys, you don't understand, if my coworkers were here they'd think it's hilarious. I promise, in my fantasy world, it's funny.

When he gets a job on one of the Autobot ships, he accepts it thinking it might be a good distraction from his thoughts.

When he happens to see Prowl with a tiny human on his shoulder in the corridor of that ship, he thinks he's lost his mind.

The whole thing. The whole load-bearing structure on which his picture of the world has been held suddenly gives a lurch. Living your life in a super realistic dream is wild, but meeting a character from your dream in real life??

Freaking cursed.

Jazz looks puzzled by his reaction, but all Swerve can think about are two things.

One, if Jazz is here, does that mean everything else was real, too???

Two - holy shit, Jazz is tiny.

It never occurred to him. But he didn't really know what size humans were. Well, sure, he could measure it in numbers. But he was among humans himself. And about the same size. He was generally even shorter than most of them.

If Jazz is so small, he can't imagine how tiny Tailgate would be. Or--

He can feel his spark freeze. In fact, he can almost hear the sound of a string breaking in his processor. Does that mean Blurr is real too? Real and just as tiny and currently dead? Because Swerve was there but was too convinced it was all just a dream to help?

He's going to get sick.

He needs to talk to Jazz right now.

____________

Swerve taps his fingers nervously on the countertop. Come on. You're good at talking. Talking is your greatest skill. All you have to do is tell someone else about your comatose hallucinations and hope they don't think you're crazy.

They're sitting at a table at the bar. More specifically Swerve and Prowl are sitting at the table, and Jazz is sitting right on the table. (God he's so small).

“So uh. I got injured a while back and...uh...well, it got worse, turned out important systems were affected and I kind of. I was in a coma. For a really long time.”

Jazz frowns

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

He speaks in a mildly wonky Common, Swerve notes to himself. He waves his servo a little too cheerfully in response.

“'Ay it's no big deal really. I saw a whole other world while I was asleep and like. See, I thought it was just my fantasies, but it seemed very real and...”

Swerve mentally crosses his fingers.

“And it was about this planet called Earth and about people who were building their own inanimate huge robots to fight huge aliens and their boss wanted to launch Mechs into space, so he picked the best of the pilots named Jazz and sent him on this test mission and...”

Jazz looks at him with huge eyes before switching to English in surprise.

“Mech, what the hell?”

“...And we lost him...” finishes Swerve with a sad smile.

Before thinking for a bit, and adding.

“I'm going to show you a trick I can do.”

And then projects his holoform onto the table in front of him.

This. It's weird. Not in a way that would tilt it in the direction of unnatural. More like walking around in his comfy indoor pajamas right in the middle of the street. Being human is familiar to him, but being human amongst huge Cybertronians? Strange. And a little creepy.

Prowl looks confused.

Jazz looks absolutely frantic.

“SWERVE????”

Swerve doesn't even manage to respond, only to smile in relief before Jazz rakes him into his arms. In his holoform, Jazz feels right again. He's taller than Swerve and oh boy, he's alive and unharmed. To think everyone thought he was dead, staying up nights trying to find what was left of him, and he was on the other side of the universe the whole time?

Swerve chuckles into Jazz's shoulder. Then picks him up and spins him around a couple times just because he needs something to get his energy out. Man, it's nice to hug people. Warm and soft, eight out of ten.

Jazz pulls away but still stays standing very close. Swerve can literally see the happy stars in his eyes.

“Dude, I'm not complaining but what...how???? You just kinda..."

Swerve laughs and twitches his eyebrows playfully.

“I still speak English, you don't have to torture yourself with Common.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Jazz throws his hands up dramatically ���you're my favorite person right now.”

There is a polite click of the vocalizer resetting above their heads.

“I” Prowl says “very glad you two are happy but I'd like some explanation”

Swerve presses his head into his shoulders guiltily. Prowl has the unique ability to always sound like you've done something wrong in front of him.

Although Jazz doesn't seem to feel the same way?

“Short version - I sleepwalked my holoform to another planet.”

He pauses dramatically.

“The long version is...”

Jazz raises his hand

“What's a holoform?”

Swerve sighs.

“It's a holographic avatar that I can project using a holomatter generator. Sort of like a remote controlled game character.”

Jazz whistles impressed. And then immediately turns back to Prowl

“Have you been able to do that all this time too?“

Prowl hums

“I can create an avatar, but it takes a lot of practice to make it at least believable. And to fully perceive the world through it takes even more. It's a whole new technology. What Swerve does is essentially an art form. Sophisticated and impressively detailed may I add.”

Swerve shrugs shyly. He's still using the holoform to stand on the table next to Jazz. Looking up to speak to Prowl isn't exactly comfortable, but Jazz definitely looks like he's been missing the human presence. Swerve isn't human, but he might as well be.

“Thank you. Yes! Uh. Anyway, it seems while I was in a coma my processor projected my avatar onto Earth and I...let's just say I lived there for a while.”

Jazz laughs

“Dude. So you're telling me you were basically sleepwalking the whole time?”

��� I was.”

Prowl frowns.

“But the range limit of the holomatter generator is only four hundred miles...”

“.... I had a lot of practice...”

Jazz claps his hands.

“You learned a whole other language! Got an ID!. You had a job!!!”

“I got carried away,” Swerve admits.

Jazz scratches the back of his head, still looking very amused

“How many degrees did you get? Haha wait no, I have a better question, did you pass your driver's license?”

“Two. And I failed my driver's exam.”

“Dude you are literally a car without a driver's license!” collapses Jazz on the table with laughter.

Swerve blows the hair out of his face

“Says you who retook the physical several times. You couldn't pass the "being human" exam.”

Jazz just wheezes incoherently in response. Prowl looks alarmed.

“Don't worry, that's him getting excited. So...where have I been...”

Swerve nervously shoves his hands into his pockets

“...Do either of you two know where Earth is?”

Prowl twitches his door wings

“No. Since Jazz was teleported we don't have much clues.”

Swerve grimaces. Scrap. Of course nothing's going to be that easy. He's also been, like,....teleported.

He stands there for a couple minutes and just feels fifteen different emotions rise up in his head at once. A crooked, unsteady smile creeps across his face.

He's thinking.

Oh hell, yeah! I knew it wasn't a dream!

Then he remembers the mess he left behind.

Oh, no, it wasn't a dream.

Jazz puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Swer... Swerve? Dude, are you okay?”

“Ah frag..” Swerve says weakly ”it wasn't a dream.”

Jazz looks...puzzled.

“Is that bad?”

Swerve remembers his friends. Remembers the Mecha program. Remembers fire and smoke and screams and rumbling and crackling flames. Ashes flying through the air and the smell of burnt wires. He remembers blood and debris and...

“It's...complicated.”

This wasn't just a stupid plot twist he'd dreamed up because he'd watched too many shows. This wasn't a hallucination or a disembodied fantasy that just happened to linger in his head. This was real. His friends exist out there somewhere. His work and his collections and his little apartment...

And Blurr. Was real. Or still is? Swerve doesn't know. Blurr wasn't a product of his imagination. He was real and what he did was real and Swerve left him there alone, bleeding and trapped in rubble and tiny and...

Hahahahah oh fUCK.

He doesn't like this plot. It's too much. Too much to handle, too complicated, too ambiguous.

It's also probably too late.

But he can't leave it like this, right? Blurr went into the damn burning building just because of the possibility that there might be someone alive in there.

And Swerve doesn't even have to go through the flames. He has to look. He has to try at least.

Jazz glares at him with a worried look on his face

“ That expression you have...”

Swerve puts the smile back on his face.

“I need to get to Earth.”

___________________

Swerve is not an idiot.

Or maybe more accurately an idiot, but with several degrees.

He's well aware that finding Earth in space with only a description of it is impossible. Which leaves him with two options.

Ask the Quintessons. Or look for it himself.

The first sounds like death. The second like coma. Swerve has exquisite enough taste to know which is better.

He just needs to do some preliminary reserch.....

Jazz, now back inside his Mech looks doubtful.

“You're not going to die suddenly and for no reason, are you?”

Swerve laughs.

“Pfffff what, no of course not, would I kill myself hah. No no, look I'll just put myself in stasis for a bit. Send myself to Earth. And try to figure out where it is from there. Get the coordinates. If I'm lucky, I can see what Space Bridge the local Quintessons use. All you'll have to do is wake me up after a while.”

“It's not harmful?”

Swerve makes an uncertain gesture with his hand...servo.

“If I have enough fuel. And an additional connection to an external generator.”

Jazz tilts his head

“ Why are you so eager to get to Earth? Don't get me wrong, I miss it too and want to go back, but.”

Swerve bites his knuckles.

“ I have some unfinished business?”

“Pshhhh you sound like a ghost.”

Swerve only laughs in response.

_______________

Concentration is tricky.

Swerve tries to think about Earth. And not to think about the fact that he doesn't know where it is. If he's already been there once, he might as well go there again yes? In theory? Perhaps?

Except for the possibility that his sleepwalking just takes him to random planets. That would be very inconvenient. It would be a whole new level of lost

Shit. No. Earth. Think Earth.

What's he even gonna do when he gets there? How far away is it? Swerve is very talented with his holomatter generator, but if it's really far away... maybe he should reset some settings.

He mentally starts going through his options. Does he need tangibility? Probably not. Come to think of it, it would only make him more vulnerable and take a lot of energy. Yeah, the tangibility has to go. What else? Touch, too. Sight and hearing should stay, that's not even a question, but colors and textures are not really necessary.

The amount of detail and picture quality can be reduced as well. His holoform will become colorless and grainy and will probably ripple with static, but he'll survive it.

After he finishes making changes to his holoform he thinks about his old stuff left in his house. Then about the posters. Then reminds himself that he needs to focus on the goal or he'll never find Blurr and...oh FUCK his phone! Where was his phone when he disappeared? Was it found?? There were so many personal things on that phone, he's hoping the phone was burned under the rubble. Either that or the arriving investigators will find his browser history and he'll go into another coma from pure embarrassment.

He blinks dazedly when he realizes he has loads of rocks in front of his eyes. Oh..Did he screw up? Did he end up on the wrong planet? Is it a cave or--

Then he notices the odd shape of the “rocks” and. Oh, no. It's not a cave. It's charred concrete debris.

This is the place where he was last.

He hastily looks around. Anxiety creeps up the back of his neck, makes him feel like something slippery and cold is crawling over his skin. There is nothing but ruins all around.

Blurr is not here. The place where his Mech was lying is empty.

Which means he was at least found and dragged out. Dead or alive.

Swerve's bites his knuckles. Okay.

All right.

He's got things to do.

_______________

He's trying to stay out of sight. Which isn't hard, considering he's just a hologram. At first, he just sneaks around in the quiet areas. Then proceeds to do a facepalm and start teleporting. Think, Swerve. Did you read all those comic books for nothing? Superheroes who couldn't really use their superpowers creatively always annoyed him. And he does, in fact, have a superpower. Gotta get creative, right?

He stops and looks at himself again. His holoform is going static and is a dull white color. He thinks for a bit, and then shrinks himself. Thinks some more, and makes himself almost transparent. There's no way he could pass as a normal human right now, so he'd better just do his best to avoid being seen by anyone.

He looks around thoughtfully. Hmm. Even if he's going to be absolutely tiny, he needs to make sure no one sees him, otherwise the whole base will think the Quintessons are now spying on them through holograms or something.

Breaking the rules feels...it's exciting.

All his ..human life here he hadn't thought about it, but if he threw away the rules he was used to about what people could or couldn't do...

He looks up in a sudden rush of sly genius. All people look under their feet when they walk, but how many look up? And how many of them notice the barely visible tiny holoform hiding just behind the blinding lamps?

The answer is probably none.

Swerve projects himself onto the ceiling and mentally pats himself on the shoulder for his impressive intellectual accomplishments. A creativity degree should definitely be a thing.

A degree in spying on the Quintessons' ships wouldn't hurt him either.

Fortunately sneaking onto their ship turns out not to be that difficult. Swerve makes himself absurdly tiny and hides in the darkest corners that no one would ever think to look into. Why hasn't anyone thought of using holoforms for spying before? Could he be the first to think of it? He doesn't know, but he mentally decides to patent the idea.

Finding the Space Bridge is surprisingly easy. The local Quintesson fleet is clearly used to being the dominant force in space. And that's generally logical. Even if humanity collects a mountain of money from somewhere to throw a dozen Mechs into space - there will be thousands of monsters waiting for them. In such a situation, you don't have to hide, the guards are enough.

Well done, well done, don't hide, Swerve thinks, copying the coordinates and address of the space bridge to himself. You have absolutely nothing to fear here, he thinks, so stay where you are and don't move. Please and thank you.

Once the coordinates are obtained, he... has some freedom to explore. And he uses it for probably the most boring-sounding thing in the world. He returns to his usual workplace.

It’s simple. As damning as the Mecha program was, Swerve loved his job in it. He loved his position in the assembly shop. And he missed his friends.

He quickly teleports through several rooms, continuing to hide close to the lamps. Tailgate is here. Alive and unharmed. Wheeljack is too, though his face has some scars added to it. It's great to see them again, even if he can't talk to them right now. No one will probably react well to a grainy unexplainable hologram. He's just glad to know they're okay and honestly, the last thing he needs is paranoid Onslaught installing extra signal jammers.

It takes time to find Blurr. Partly because Swerve is terrified of what he might find if he started looking. So he goes to check the death lists first, and only after flipping through and re-reading them three times does he finally exhale in relief.

Blurr's name isn't there.

So his smug, shiny ass must be around here somewhere.

He checks the hangar. Flips through the Mech launch logs and feels an uncomfortable knot begin to form in his chest. Blurr's Mech has never been repaired or launched even once since the incident. Its plating has been replaced with new, well polished, and put in a prominent place where anyone who wants to can take a picture of it. But all the internal systems are destroyed. This machine hasn't been used for anything other than being a beautiful exhibit.

That's...something's wrong.

He checks offices and schedules as well as eavesdropping on a few conversations and ends up secretly following Swindle, who is arguing loudly with someone on the phone. He says something about deals and how he doesn't need anyone meddling in his business. Then he talks about how he's got everything under control and the person on the phone is “a dumbass who's making drama out of nothing” and that “he doesn't need anyone's handouts". Then he sighs and says, “you know how celebs are. Dumb and dramatic. You can't take their words literally.”

Then drops the call and for a couple seconds looks like he's just had a large bill taken right out of his hand. Curses again, but in a quieter voice. Leafs through his contacts and stops at the one signed 'free ice'.

“Blurr? Where are you? Wha...ah, no wait. No, the advertising agency called. No, liste...Can you shut up for one second?Where are you?

Uh-huh....... Uh-huh.Okay.

Give me half an hour...okay, yeah.”

This is it, Swerve thinks.

He shrinks himself further and teleports under the collar of Swindle's coat.

He wants to take a look. Just. Just a peek. Make sure everything's all right. Then he can go about his original mission in peace. He watches Swindle get in his car and drive off somewhere. Swerve doesn't recognize this part of town. The houses here are much nicer than where he lived. The streets are cleaner.

He tucks himself further under the coat collar. He's not going to be a stalker or anything, but he's worried and he doesn't have time to wait for Blurr himself to show up for work. Just one little look and that's it.

Swindle's car stops outside a beautiful, shiny hospital. Swerve nervously tries to bite his knuckles, but remembers he's disabled touch in his holoform. Shit? Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shi

Blurr looks like a mangled corpse.

Okay, not really. His left side that faces the door to the hospital room looks like a mangled corpse and that's the first thing that catches Swerve's eye when he's inside.

Blurr is pale and thin and his hands are covered in bandages. The left side of his face has been turned into an absolute ugly nightmare. A piece of his ear is missing. In the place of the left eye is a creepy empty hole.

Suddenly Swerve realizes why Blurr didn't show up for work. You can't even show him to his coworkers like that, not just to the public.

Blurr turns his head and the spell breaks. His lips stretch into a cocky smile.

“'Got bored without me Swindle?”

Swindle doesn't show the slightest emotion at the gruesome sight. He casually pulls a chair over to the hospital bed and sits down.

“Shockwave is trying to sneak a new project into the program. And he's slowly swaying investors to his side, using you as an excuse. Tells everyone you're a poor martyr he can save if only he's given the green light from above.”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“Not that he's wrong. The doctors say I need to pick a new career because with this...” he jerks his head to the left implying his damaged half, ” neither racing nor piloting is an option for me anymore. I'm out of your project.”

Then he stops talking for a few seconds and raises an eyebrow curiously.

“You wouldn't have come here in person just to say that. Why are you really here?”

Swindle adjusts his glasses

“Have I ever told you why I made the contract with you?”

“Because you like money” Blurr says without hesitation.

Swindle lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Fair point. But money wasn't my only priority.”

He pauses for a second. Gets up. Draws the curtains in the room. Checks to make sure no one is outside the door.

Goes back to his seat.

“You didn't see what the Mecha project was like before. Brutality and absolute disregard for human rights multiplied by a thousand. People were desperate and no one cared to maintain any decency.”

He raises his hand when Blurr rushes to say something.

“No no, listen to me. If you think things are bad now, you're right. But it used to be much. Much, much worse.”

Swindle sighs and adjusts his glasses again

“Vortex was taken as a boy. He wasn't even out of high school when they shoved him into the lab. Me and Onslaught were pulled right out of the college exams. The others were no better, although they were usually a little older. My point is that it was allowed. It's what the superiors could do and no one told them no.”

Blurr tilts his head and gets a little all turned around to see Swindle better with his right eye.

“But you... found a way to change that, didn't you?

Swindle rubs the bridge of his nose

“I have no power over my own superiors. But Onslaught and I have come up with a plan. Look. I'll put it in simple terms for you. Above me is my boss, and above him is another boss, and so on but at the very end of that chain are people from the government. The investors. So we figured out a way to cut through the chain of command and influence them directly. Make them worry about us. It's a kind of social shield. Onslaught is a genius.”

Blurr blinks.

“Why are you telling me all this.”

Swindle takes off his hat and just. Crumples it in his hands. The back of his head shows numerous scars and the glint of tiny metal implants barely visible behind his hair.

“You're that shield right now, Blurr. You can't leave.”

Blurr's eye widens

“Is that why you insisted on ‘befriending’ me with all those bullshitters?”

“I needed to make sure that in their minds we weren't just a military unit. To keep them thinking that we're as human as they are. So I gave Project Mecha a face.” He tugs on the hat again, “Your face.”

Blurr runs his fingers through his hair

“Shockwave can't do whatever he wants cause...because of me his efforts would risk going public and people wouldn't like it and it would ruin the reputation of our investors-and-they'd-cut-off-his-funding.”

Swindle puts his hat back on.

“Exactly.’ That's why he's being so persistent right now. He knows you're vulnerable and he wants to capitalize on the opportunity. Make you part of his new project and tell the world about it. Make publicity his weapon, too.”

The lamp above them flickers faintly. Blurr takes a breath. Long and tired and exhausted and. a bit doomed.

Swindle puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Please. Don't leave. At least not now. And don't let Shockwave get to you. That would open the way for him to get to the rest of the pilots you represent.”

They just. Sit in silence for a while. Blurr quickly taps a finger on his knee. A rapid tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

Swindle moves his hand away and gets up from his chair.

“There's a press conference coming up. I need you to be there. I've told everyone who needs to know that the problem is exaggerated and you're fine but they need to see you.”

Blurr smiles sourly.

“My lawyer is going to charge you such a handsome sum for that stunt.”

Swindle laughs, but his cardboard advertising smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“We’ll see about that. Seriously though. I need you there.”

Blurr bites his lip.

“I..don’t know...”

Swerve...doesn't know what to think of that.

Blurr shows up for the press conference. Late, but he makes it. Just as Shockwave is presenting his new project in his amazingly well-pitched voice. Blurr swings the door open and waltzes lazily inside, skillfully pretending not to notice the many cameras and eyes instantly directed at him.

Swerve, whose memory is still fresh thinks for a second that no, no this can't be the same person. Past Blurr looked like a wreck. Past Blurr was tense and tired and hunched over. Present Blurr couldn't look more alive. His shoulders are squared proudly, there's that cheerful springiness and grace in his stride. He moves with ease and confidence. Smoothly.

The left side of his face is neatly covered with fresh white bandages. Carefully, without leaving the even the slightest gap through which his injury could be seen. His hands are hidden under a fancy jacket. He smiles wide and bright and squints playfully toward the table.

The very embodiment of nonchalance. The few pilots sitting in the audience roll their eyes.

Swindle breathes out a barely perceptible sigh of relief. Swerve, once again using Swindle's collar as a tactical cover, can't help but let out a silent triumphant laugh. Maybe slightly more nervous than he is supposed to be.

Blurr sends Swindle a sly, sharp smile and even knowing it wasn't meant for him, Swerve feels his cheeks heat up.

Ah, damn it.

Swerve breaks the rules. He tells himself that peeking is fraught with consequences when it comes to military organizations, but he can't stop himself from being curious. And from worry, too.

And now that he knows where to look, he sees things he'd rather not see.

Blurr ... is crumbling.

Swerve doesn't know all the details and consequences, but that incident did leave a mark.

But every time Swindle calls him and says “I need you at some place in two hours” he gets up and assembles himself into a human being. Like a goddamn puzzle. Tapes and covers the burned half of his face. Covers up the bruises and hides the stitches. Fixes his hair and sets off on shaky legs to pretend he's fine.

He smiles so bright and carefree, laughs so sweet and beautiful that no one would ever think that even standing up sometimes hurts.

And continues to act like a jerk of course.

The only difference is that this time Swerve mentally gives him the presumption of innocence before he starts judging.

Blurr does a lot of things that seem rude. He also does a lot of things that are actually rude and figuring them out without resorting to alien superpowers would be nearly impossible.

When the pilots see Blurr sitting right on the table while negotiating with investors, they roll their eyes and make comments about his terrible manners. Or when he stops showing up for even the most basic, rudimentary training.

Or when he develops that stupid habit of leaning his elbows on people standing next to him.

It's the model behavior of a rich, spoiled brat.

It's also an inconspicuous way to stay upright.

Employees say “that dumbass has never heard of personal space.”

Investors say, “I think he likes me.”

Blurr leans on Swindle's shoulder and through a charming smile says “Don't move or I'm gonna fall.”

Swindle also keeping up the smile discreetly holds him back, pretending it's a friendly half hug.

Swerve feels like yelling at both of them, but he's not sure what for exactly. For one thing, Blurr in his condition is very VERY VERY contraindicated to even get out of bed, let alone participate in social activities.

On the other hand, without Blurr, everything is going down the pit.

Without Blurr, all the government sees are dry reports and spreadsheets. Without him, all the high command has is numbers and a sense of impunity. Swerve is sickened by how easily people tend to forget that numbers represent other people.

Most pilots are able to draw a parallel between deteriorating working conditions and Blurr's sudden fondness for staying home instead of working. But they think the rich jerk got scared and ran away. Considering the way Blurr has always behaved at work - Swerve can't even judge them too much for it. They assume Shockwave getting more freedom is the cause of Blurr's absence, not the result.

Blurr's influence only becomes noticeable when it slowly starts to fade away. It's like switching from expensive tea to a cheaper one. The awful flavor only becomes noticeable in contrast.

Blurr doesn't lead the development of new technologies or go out to fight in the field. He doesn't make plans and reports, he doesn't participate in drills, he doesn't cover anyone's back in battle.

But he's the one who puts his hand on the government's shoulders when they're about to sign the next piece of paper. He's the one they have to look in the eye before they have a pen in their hands and a document authorizing Shockwave to stick more needles in people's brains.

It makes a difference. Small one. But still.

It turns a disembodied imaginary “combat units” into a tangible person.

From “do you want to accelerate the combat training of new soldiers” to “are you willing to tell the living, breathing guy standing in front of you that shoving poison under his skin is an idea you approve of.”

More importantly (And Swerve actually admires Swindle for this) Will you be able to explain anything to your families later on, when this same guy is on TV all over the country saying that's what you did to him?

There have been two fronts here all this time, Swerve realizes.

While the pilots were protecting people from monsters wearing teeth and armor, Blurr was protecting the pilots themselves from monsters wearing ties and lab coats.

After another conference, Shockwave stops Blurr in the hallway.

“Good show.”

Blurr laughs. Soundly and proudly.

“Thanks darling~ Sorry I interrupted you. Your speech sounded like something important, but I don't really know much about nerd stuff.”

Swerve, hiding on the ceiling again, snorts.

Shockwave doesn't move. Doesn't give any indication at all if he's offended or upset or whatever.

“It must have been hard getting here with your injuries.”

Blurr shrugs and lazily turns his head around distracted.

“It's just a few bruises here and there. Not the end of the world.”

Shockwave nods slowly. His voice and posture and all, Swerve thinks, looking very uncomfortable.

“Of course it isn't. But hardly good for your career.”

Blurr freezes.

No, Swerve thinks. Shit. No, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't

“Your brilliant achievements have always been a source of admiration to me” continues Shockwave “it would be a pity to lose them.”

Blurr makes an indifferent face and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Like I said. Not the end of the world.”

Swerve imagines choking Shockwave. Dropping a lamp on his head. Maybe jumping on top of him himself. Shut up, he thinks. Shut up, shut up, stop fucking talking.

Shockwave with a nice, slow gesture pulls out a notebook from somewhere and flips a couple pages.

“Multiple burns, cracked ribs, poisoning from carbon monoxide and combustion products of toxic chemicals...”

Blurr visibly shivers and looks away.

“...loss of vision on one side...” Shockwave continues reading, ”and partial hearing loss. Finally, the impact of neural link malfunctions. And this, if I'm not mistaken, is on top of the already existing memory problems?”

Shockwave takes a step closer. Not fast enough to make it look threatening, but enough to hover.

“It may not be the end of the world, but it is the end of you.”

He writes a set of numbers on the same page, tears it off, and hands it to Blurr.

“You are broken. I can fix you.”

Blurr frowns, but takes the piece of paper.

“That fixing would involve giving you consent to mess around with my head, wouldn't it? It's brave of you to think I'd go for that.”

Shockwave tucks the notepad into his pocket.

“I can assure you, neither I nor anyone else is interested in your brain. I just want to give you back what you're truly valued for.”

Blurr flinches.

“I don't need your help.”

“ If you say so,” Shockwave agrees easily. Nods, slowly and smoothly. Then starts to walk away “But you do need your fame.”

...

“By the way, you might want to wipe the blood off.”

Blurr waits until Shockwave's back disappears around the corner, then quickly pulls a tissue from his pocket and brings it up to his nose.

____________________________

Swerve wakes up looking up at the ceiling of his room. The high, metal ceiling, of a metal room on a metal spaceship.

Holy shit...

Jazz pokes him gently on the forearm

“Are you alive? You've been gone for like quite a while...Did it work?”

“Hey Jazz” frowns Swerve “what do you know about Blurr?”

Jazz laughs

“What are you fanboying over him again? Still??? Dude's smug and arrogant. Good boss though. I was hired to perform at his parties before I became a pilot.”

Swerve sits up and rubs the back of his head.

“Ah...”

“So it worked?”

“Wha...ah! Yes! Yes, it worked! I managed to get the number and codes from the space bridge the Quints used on you. We just need to find another space bridge and we'll have a pretty much direct route to Earth...well. Or rather, to the Quint ship that's located near Earth. You get the idea.”

Jazz rubs his hands together happily.

“I'll take it.”

Swerve jumps to the floor and heads to grab an energon cube. Man, these holoform exercises are burning energy like crazy.

He stares at his metal hands like an idiot for a couple minutes. Just...Contemplates how non-human they are.

He has eight fingers again instead of the human ten. Huh.

Prowl downloads the information he's gotten and immediately runs off to plan a route to the nearest working space bridge and for a while Swerve is just.

Left to himself.

He tries not to think about Blurr. What would he even say to him? Hey, look, I'm sorry I accidentally set you up, see, I'm actually an alien who was sleepwalking and thought you were fictional, surely this won't affect our non-existent strictly professional working relationship? Nah, screw that. If he's going to sound crazy, he needs to at least come up with a good presentation for his insanity.

....

Is it weird to think humans are beautiful if you're not human? If you're kind of human, but only in your soul and only half human?

He looks at Jazz and Prowl.

“You two get along really well.”

Jazz chuckles, sitting on Prowl's shoulder.

“Right now, yes. But we got on each other's nerves quite a bit when we first met.”

Swerve looks up at Jazz's chattering legs from his height and thinks. This is working somehow.

On the other hand, Jazz is the exception rather than the rule. He's friendly with everyone, he's easy to get along with, he's the soul of any company and most importantly, he was a little too much into robots before he discovered they could be alive. If anyone could find common ground with the Cybertronians, it would definitely be Jazz.

_____________________

”Are you a ghost?”

Swerve shrieks in fear and gets covered in static. He hadn't planned on talking. He hadn't planned on being noticed at all. Blurr was supposed to be asleep! And Swerve just wanted to close the curtains and leave, because there's some noisy party going on outside and bright illuminations are very bad for a patient already suffering from neural connection withdrawal.

He freezes in place like that dude from Jurassic Park. Like if he's still enough, he won't be noticed. Oh, or was that from another movie?

“I'm just uh” he awkwardly reaches up and closes the curtains “Lights. Bad for...you...now.”

Blurr chuckles. It sounds suspiciously joyful. His whole posture and facial expression. He looks very relaxed for someone who had a ghost materialize into the room out of thin air.

Swerve traces the line of the IV with his gaze. Oops, that looks like painkillers.

“Yes I am. Uh. A ghost watching the curtains. And now the curtains are fine, so I guess I'd better go?”

Blurr squints amusedly.

“You can walk through walls?”

“Uh, I can teleport into the next room?”

He backs up his words by making himself disappear and reappear in another corner of the room.

“Cool!” says Blurr cheerfully.

Swerve is involuntarily infected by his mood and makes a couple dramatic bows as if he were some kind of magician.

“ Show me more?”

“Hehehe okay eh” Swerve spreads his arms like he's presenting something and then makes himself the size of a soda bottle and teleports to the edge of Blurr's bed “Ta daaaa~”

“Wooooo look at you, you're like an action figure~”

Blurr immediately makes an attempt to touch him, but fails to reach and drops his hand back on the blanket.

Swerve chuckles and steps closer. It's funny to see the usually incredibly agile Blurr struggling with something so simple and ridiculous.

“They really drugged you huh?”

“It's not the drugs” snorts Blurr ”...it's my eye.”

He raises his hand once more and hesitantly pulls it towards Swerve until it bumps into his hair

“... depths Per…percen.. ah, shit. I can't tell how far away things are.”

Swerve just. Lets Blurr fidget at himself, while starting to feel really bad at the same time.

"If you can't tell how far things are, how are you going to drive?

Race???”

He must have a plan right? Something? Let’s-prove-Shockwave-wrong tactic???

Blurr drops his hands back on the blanket

“I won't.”

He freezes when the all too close fireworks rumble outside the window. Then points to his head.

“With this. I can't drive, I can barely walk at all, and I look like horror movie material. Pathetic heeh.”

Swerve sits down quietly cross-legged on the blanket.

“Well...at least you're alive....”

Blurr shakes his head.

“If I had died, it would have been epic. You know? Dharm...dramatic! It would be big news and everyone would be talking about what a hero I was or...or something...”

“...”

“Swindle would be so angry, but he'd figure out a way to make money out of it. He'd make a commercial about how people should be heroes. I'd be remn..remembered for being cool and brave and stuff.”

Fireworks can be heard from the street again. Swerve notices that there is a thin slit between the closed curtains through which a slim, flickering strip of multicolored light streams into the room.

Blurr frowns and leans back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

“I've turned into a boring wreck. My records will be beaten, my career forgotten , and all the guys from work will remember me as a brat. In a--in a--in a way, it's worse than death. Shockwave's right.”

Swerve isn't sure what exactly would be an acceptable gesture of comfort, so he kind of just. Places his hand on the blanket covering Blurr's lap.

“Hey, don't say that. I think what you're doing is great.”

“Liar” smiles Blurr crookedly ”You hated me. I saw your posters collection.”

Oh shit. The ones he ripped off the walls and destroyed in a fit of fan frustration? He didn't even hide them, just shoved them in the back corner. Aw, man...

Swerve folds his arms awkwardly across his chest.

“I can be mad at you and think you're cool at the same time. I'm a multitasker.”

“You're a very specific kind of ghost.” says Blurr. Then, apparently inspired by the painkillers, decides to drop the conversational equivalent of an atomic bomb on Swerve's head “You died because of me?”

Swerve stiffens.

“I...Wwhat?”

“You know.” he makes a gesture with his hand that's ..unclear what it's supposed to mean. “You were working there with everyone else, and then there was that fire and I was sure I saw you down there under the rubble.”

He's silent for a couple seconds before he hesitantly continues

“And then no one could find you so most assumed you either burned or ran away. And now you're here with all your weird ghost stuff, so you must be dead.”

Swerve has.No idea what to think about it. And what to say? He's been so busy blaming himself for Blurr getting hurt that it hasn't occurred to him to think about what it looks like from Blurr's own perspective.

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head’s all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Swerve wants to run around and bang his head against the wall.

Instead, he gets up from the hospital bed. Carefully.

“You're high. I'm not going to explain things to you while you're high, you won't understand or remember them. Go back to sleep. It's the middle of the night.”

“You'll tell me later?”

Swerve hums quietly and pulls the curtains all the way closed.

“If future, sober Blurr would want my company.”

---------------

Jazz looks at him. Very intensely.

“Are you going to tell me who this mystery person you keep coming back to Earth for?”

Swerve snorts.

“What makes you think it's anyone in particular?”

“You're right, you're right~” raises his hands in surrender Jazz “So are you going to tell your friend the whole thing?”

Swerve crosses his ..metal arms over his metal chest.

“Is it that big of a deal? He thinks I'm a ghost or something.”

Being a ghost...somehow better, he thinks. If you're a ghost, it kind of automatically implies you're human. Or was a human.

“Sooner or later, he'll put the facts together~” says Jazz in a chant.

Swerve laughs.

“That's unlikely. He's got a pretty bad memory.”

_______________

His plans to stay out of anyone's sight combust with a dramatic pop the next time he projects himself to Earth. He doesn't plan to interfere, he doesn't even plan to linger. He just wants to see what's going on.

He actually just quietly sneaks into the hospital to make sure nothing's happened to Blurr since last time, but when he finally finds him then...oh shit, is that Pharma in the same room with him??? This can't be good.

They don't speak, but Pharma has clearly locked his eyes on Blurr and starts making his way towards him with the relentlessness of a industrial metal press.

Swerve does some rough math in his head. If he briefly gives his holoform back its detail and voice, will that be enough to fry his processor? He's not sure.

Pharma gives a believable impression of a shark getting close. The staff, as if sensing something untoward is about to happen, leaves the room in a hurry.

Blurr looks indifferent, but Swerve's attention is drawn to the way he squints tensely. Man, the lamps are too bright in here.

Pharma smiles sweetly and reaches out for a handshake

“Mind some company?”

Swerve's mental processes fly out the window. Oh no no. Not Pharma. Not in his fucking fanfic. He quickly changes his work clothes into a slightly more business-like looking shirt. Thinks for just a moment and adds a cap to his head to blend in more strongly with the attendants and hide his face to an extent. And then projects himself around the nearest unoccupied corner and runs out of behind it looking as anxious as he feels.

“Blurr!!! Sir, there you are!!! I've been looking everywhere for you!”

Pharma wants to say something, but Swerve doesn't even let him start. He stands in front of Blurr separating him and Farma expressively waves his hands trying to keep his head down.

“The guys you were talking about didn't bring the new hydraulics! It's a disaster, we'll have to use the one on the old models!”

Blurr, to his surprise, backs up his act almost instantly

“Really? But I thought there was nothing to take from the old models?”

“That's exactly the point! I got the paperwork this morning and...oh those assholes are going to screw it up if you don't step in as soon as possible!”

Pharma tilts his head

“Can it wait? We were actually talking here!”

Oh no, thinks Swerve I'll show you who's talking.

“Sir, no offense but this is a matter of extreme urgency. Are you implying that the safety of your patients is not important?”

“What do you mea...”

“Old faulty hydraulics, that's what you want?” raises an eyebrow in horror Blurr.

“No I'm just...”

“I had a better opinion of you, to be honest.”

“I...” opens his mouth Pharma “...WHAT...?”

Swerve shakes his head.

“And I thought his profession was to help people, can you imagine?”

“Wh..”

Blurr rolls his eye.

“Any idiot can get an important position these days.”

“Wait..”

“Tell me about it. Especially doctors.”

Pharma looks like he's about to start pulling the hair out of his head.

“Can at least one of you shut up??”

Swerve adjusts his cap in a businesslike manner

“Sir, I understand you're a bit detached from reality spending so much time in your department, but you need to take better care of your reputation.”

He raises his eyebrows knowingly

“Wouldn't want the rumors about you to turn out to be true. You know what I mean?”

Pharma doesn't even answer anymore. Pharma just looks like a discarded fish.

“…..Wha....there's rumors?”

“Of course” shrugs Swerve ”Ask Norman, he usually knows everything about everyone. And about your interesting tricks with safety, too.”

He leans in conspiratorially, effectively pulling all of Farma's attention to himself

“So if I were you, I'd stay out of any more things you don't understand.”

Pharma wants to say something. Swerve can tell by the look in his eyes. Pharma tries to come up with a witty and context-appropriate response, but this whole conversation has no more context than a typical episode of Teletubbies.

“Where does this Norman guy work?” finally finds the ground beneath his feet Pharma

Swerve shrugs.

“Block C, if he hasn't been transferred yet. He's already been fined several times for spreading harmful information you know? The guy can't keep a secret.”

Pharma throws his hands up angrily and storms away. Probably looking for context. Or revenge.

A quiet cough sounds behind Swerve's back.

“So. Should I be worried about Norman's health?”

Swerve feels the hair on the back of his neck shiver and slowly turns to face Blurr while still looking somewhere on the floor.

“Uh...only if you're concerned about the fate of fictional characters. I made up Norman's wife, she'll be upset if he gets fired for gossiping.”

Blurr chuckles. Then goes silent. Then, after a couple seconds, starts laughing again. That's a good look for him, Swerve thinks. It's not like Blurr's usual velvet-smooth laugh that he uses at social events. It's more like a quick, jerky giggle, and in Swerve's subjective opinion, it's pretty damn cute. He can't help but grin.

Blurr snorts one last time, cutting off the laughter.

Then he reaches out his hand to him.

Swerve reaches back, expecting a handshake, but Blurr ignores his hand and instead goes for his cap and lifts it by the brim.

Swerve, not expecting this, freezes with his hand outstretched.

Blurr freezes as well, still holding the cap in his hand and looking...like he's rethinking his life. A little.

Ugh, and how to explain it all to him....

“Uh...you...uh...probably don't remember me. I...it's...”

Blurr shifts his gaze from Swerve to the cap in his hand. Then back to Swerve.

“You're real???”

Swerve awkwardly waves his hands in front of him

“Ah not.., not really. Do you know why Pharma was looking for you in the first place? He doesn't work with patients anymore, he's been reassigned to the research department, right?”

Blurr shrugs.

“Last time I saw him, he said I might have implant rejection in the third ..uh..what? stage? or something? I think he's trying to get me in for a checkup.”

Swerve twitches.

“Third??? How are you still standing???”

He then quickly reaches up with both hands to Blurr's head and tilts it so he can see his face better. Using one thumb, he pulls his lower eyelid slightly and mentally catalogs. Temperature normal, pupil normal, eyes are steady, no darkening or trace of blood on the eyelid. Implants? He puts both palms up and gently feels the places behind Blurr's ears. No signs of rejection or malfunction.

“No no no” sighs Swerve ”You're fine, it's only stage two. I mean, second sucks too, migraines and all, but you just need to rest and no bright lights and...” he finally notices his hands are still on Blurr's head and pulls them back as fast as if he's been burned ”I MEAN I'm uh...sorry, I didn't mean to, I...”

Blurr laughs quietly.

“I'm glad you're back.”

_____________________

He wakes up in his quarters and can feel his face burning.

When he goes out to get the energon, Jazz throws him a look.

“Is something wrong? You're all kinda...shaky.”

“Hhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuu” imitates signs of life Swerve “Say, doesn't it bother you that Prowl isn't human?”

Jazz smiles

“ Oh, I went crazy when I found out. But we figured it out.”

“Like...on a scale from ‘bad grade in school’ to ‘an asteroid is coming to Earth’ how crazy was it?”

“Worried about what your human friends will think?”

Swerve swings back and forth on his heels

“Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Whatnooooo, no of course not. I'd be worried if I planned on telling them at all.”

Jazz frowns

“No offense, but keeping secrets isn't your strong suit.”

“Haha” Swerve waves his servo “ Watch me.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Since you mentioned this in an earlier ask, what is your take on feminist Leona? I see people saying things like "consent king" "he drinks his respect women juice" and "leona kingscholar says men ain't shit" but I think those are mainly jokes but I've also seen a lot of for example Leona x reader fanfics where he's a lot nicer to femme Yuus than masc ones. I don't play the game so I don't know how much of a feminist he really is, could you clarify and give your own insights? Ty Miss Raven!!!!!!!

[Referencing this post!]

Admittedly, I am guilty of having made “consent king” jokes but that’s mainly because I think consent + respecting others’ autonomy is very sexy important and it’s slightly funny to have a 185 cm muscular anime cat boy championing the concept. However, I try to avoid making jokes which would imply Leona puts down his own gender or thinks lesser of them because 1) canon doesn't indicate this and 2) it can be hurtful to non-femme Twst fans. Yes, most of the fandom is women--but that doesn't mean we shouldn't make this fandom space welcoming for masculine or nonbinary Twst fans.

Let's delve into a brief history of where feminist!Leona comes from! After that, I'll discuss my own thoughts and feelings about it.

The idea first came into prominence because of an exchange that occurs in Cater's School Uniform vignette. In it, Cater is trying to convince Leona to join him for a party that he's throwing for Rosaria, one of the talking paintings at NRC. At first, Leona refuses--but he quickly changes his tune once Cater mentions Rosaria is a "she/her". Leona states, "Portrait or not, I respect ladies and Rosaria is a lady." Cater then whispers to Kalim (who is shocked that Leona suddenly agreed to come along), "Leona's kingdom is all about being respectful to ladies."

It should be noted that Leona says something slightly different in JP: “Even if it’s a portrait, a woman is a woman.” JP does not have the “I respect ladies” portion; “I respect ladies” was added to EN, which may have further amplified the interpretation that he is a feminist.

Now, as we learn from that vignette, the Sunset Savanna has a culture of "respecting women". In Leona's Ceremonial Robes vignette, he elaborates that, “[Beastwomen are] already way stronger than [beastmen]." Furthermore, Ruggie states in one of his Chats that “Girls have both the grit and the camaraderie to triumph when the goin’ gets tough.” Then, in events like Tamashina Mina and late in book 7, we are told that many of the royal guards are women who volunteer for the positions and it's common for them to have learned martial arts from a young age. From this dialogue, we can glean that the women of Leona's home country are physically strong, strong-willed, and honorable.

With that being said, I think certain interpretations of Leona's "feminism" (a term not actually used by official materials; this is a fandom take) definitely take it a step too far by either assuming Leona treats woman as a special class and/or he dislikes men. Both of those interpretations (if serious and not said as a joke) are owed to a fundamental misunderstanding of what "feminism" is. Feminism is "the belief in full social, economic, and political equality for women." Feminism is NOT misandry (a hatred of men), and nor is it female chauvinism (the belief that women are superior to men)... unless, of course, you're talking about very radicalized forms of thinking. The basic concept of feminism doesn't involve man hate or putting women on a pedestal.

Leona, whom we know to be arrogant and unwilling to obey others' orders, appears to be more willing to listen to and carry out tasks if there's a woman involved. I already mentioned the case with Rosaria the painting (which proves that his "respecting women" thing extends beyond just beastwomen from his home country). In his Ceremonial Robes, he also grumpily puts on the aforementioned robes and takes a picture of himself in it upon the request of his sister-in-law. But--and this should be stressed--he's not exactly jumping for joy or eager to do so. Instead, Leona cites that "Goin’ against [beastwomen] only brings more trouble.” This indicates annoyance at having to carry out this chore, and gives the impression that Leona's only complying because not doing so would only overcomplicate things for him. He's not an idiot--he knows when to make a strategic retreat if it's going to save him time and effort in the long run. (For example, he immediately surrenders to the Ferrymen in book 6 rather than continue to put up a fight.)

I should note that, like in the earlier definition of feminism I shared, Leona does not simply bend the knee to every single woman. In the first Halloween event, he was still capable of scaring off the Magicam Monsters (some of which have distinctly female voices) without any qualms. He was still fully able to express anger and upset when Eliza, the Ghost Bride, smacked him. "You've got a lot of nerve turnin' me down over some nonsense!" He's also not above tricking the Fairy Queen and her entourage to steal back the special magestone from NRC.

This shows us that Leona doesn't just... "respect women" indiscriminately. If someone is going to be rude and selfish to him, he's going to respond as is appropriate. He's not going to turn a blind eye because of the offending party's gender.

In terms of Yuu interactions (assuming Yuu can be any gender), Leona acts pretty aggressive towards them in their first meeting. Even though it's clearly an accident and Yuu didn't realize they stepped on his tail, Leona is annoyed by the act and them walking away without apologizing or stopping to acknowledge him. He also makes it known that Yuu is magicless, and thus has no way of defending themselves from him. And you know what this man does? He says, "Well, can't say it'd be much fun to hurt someone so helpless. Still gonna do it, though." AND HE THREATENS TO TAKE A TOOTH. His wording, "No one gets to stomp on my tail and just walk away without payin' the price" + him still deciding to attack Yuu desite knowing they are weak/cannot fight back, implies to me that he may have still reacted this way regardless of Yuu's gender. (Key word: MAY. We don't know if this is the truth or not, I am leaving this up to your interpretation.)

Notably, there is a light change between EN and JP versions for Yuu's dialogue choices in response to Leona's threat. The EN dialogue options are far more humorous, but the JP options clearly convey fear (ie Leona is being serious about his threat of bodily harm). The top option is like noises of surprise, like "Eh, eh, eh!!"; the bottom option is along the lines of, "What, I'm going to be hit/beaten!"

There are, in fact, multiple instances where Leona acts callous towards Yuu. He refuses to let Yuu stay in Savanaclaw unless they earn their keep by beating up some mobs. He constantly degrades them by calling them and others he considers weak "herbivore". He has to be goaded into helping us or taking us along on trips instead of automatically caving. It could be argued that he would be more agreeable or polite if fem!Yuu was in these scenarios. And who knows, that might be the case--but again, I don't think he would be egregiously kind. I would like to point out a more direct example of a Leona-fem!Yuu interaction. Leona has interacted with a female Yuu before: Yuuka Hirasaka, our main character for the Episode of Savanaclaw manga. There's some debate over whether or not the NRC students know that Yuuka is a girl since the topic is never mentioned once, but I assume that they are aware because: 1) Yuuka makes no effort to hide her figure or chest; she even wears her blazer open, and 2) she has no motivation to hide her gender; she is capable of defending herself if needed and has a nonchalant personality. Proceeding with the assumption that Yuuka being a girl is a known fact, Leona does not treat her any differently than any other student.

Yuuka seems to experience the same tail-stepping scene as is depicted in game, although we don't see the aftermath of it/if Leona gives her the same threat.

The more telling scene for Yuuka, however, comes when she and her friends arrive in Savanaclaw to investigate. They are confronted by a bunch of mobs that start to pick a fight with them. Like in the game, Leona intervenes (ie he doesn't stop the fight just because Yuuka is a woman) and has them duke it out in a game of spelldrive/magift instead.

And you know what? Leona doesn't hold back just because he's playing against a woman. In fact, he kicks Yuuka's ass and then some. Then he stands over her and tells her to get back up, to keep playing. Leona isn't cutting Yuuka any slack whatsoever. He treats Yuuka the same as the boys she's playing with.

This brings me to my final prominent example of Leona interacting with a woman, which I think best exemplifies what my interpretation of Leona's "feminism" is. In the JP server's 2024 Halloween event Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Sally indicates that she plans on making a meal using the plants from around the cemetery. Leona is at first displeased by this, but then agrees to help her catch snakes, rats, lizards, etc. as meat for the meal. This leads into a conversation about how sad Sally's home life is, which earns her sympathy from the other NRC students. Jade, Riddle, and Epel are shocked at the cruelty that Sally faces. Jade volunteers to take the doctor out for Sally, and Epel even tries to convince Leona to help him rough up Dr. Finkelstein. But Leona just smirks and tells them Sally's not in any need of their "help"; isn't she the one who slipped the doctor a "drink"? Riddle scolds him for this "ungentlemanly" behavior and Epel refuses to believe that the "kind Sally" would do something like use poison. Leona was able to smell the deadly nightshade on her and deduce that Sally slipped some to her guardian and then slipped out on her own. She's not a damsel in distress--she's resourceful. Sally used her brains and not brute force to rescue herself from a bad situation. (We know that this would deeply resonate with Leona because he has been struggling his entire life to have his own merits recognized.) Leona praises Sally for her cunning and goes so far as to offer her his arm and tell her that he's looking forward to this evening's dinner.

In this situation, could it not be said that Jade, Riddle, and Epel were the ones assuming Sally is weak that Leona was the one who saw her true worth? I'm of course not accusing anyone here of being sexist. Society socializes us to see women as the "fairer sex" in need of protection and aid--but isn't Leona being more equitable by not underestimating Sally because of her gender?

That brings me to my conclusion. Leona respects women, no doubt about that. However, that's NOT a blanket statement. He clearly knows how to separate who is worthy of his respect and who isn't, and then he acts accordingly. Yes, he is polite, slightly softer, and more willing to listen to women he knows (his sister-in-law), women who haven't offended him/are just existing (Rosaria), and woman who have demonstrated their own strengths to him (Sally). He doesn’t become a completely different character just to bend to the whims of women. Those who have acted in ways to earn his ire, woman or not, will be treated as such (Magicam Monsters, Eliza, even Yuu when they/she enters his territory and/or steps on his tail). At the same time, I don't believe he thinks that women are delicate flowers that need special treatment (as we see with how he handles Sally + the Yuus and, more specifically, Yuuka). If anything, the women from his home country have demonstrated that they can be strong and self-sufficient. Why would he feel the need to go out of his way to be extremely lenient with the women he is around?

Lastly, nothing in official materials implies Leona treats men significantly worse than women. If he seems exceedingly rude to men, it’s most likely the result of the main cast (the characters Leona most often interacts with) being guys. If we were to compare how he treats his peers and how he treats women who have irritated him, I would say the behavior isn’t that different.

I know that was a long post but 😅 Hopefully I was able to articulate my thoughts well enough… May you find it helpful in forming your own opinion, Anon!

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER FIFTEEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @numberonepartyanth3m @wbb4l @authentic-girl03 @slut4uconnwbb @unadulteratedcyclepaper @kplum10 @fuddfanatic35 @avvwritesstufff @paigesluver @bueckersbitch @ryywyd

warnings sexual innuendos, yall are getting edged one last time 🙂‍↔️

kalena speakss 🪽! it’s finally here, everyone say thank you to sza cs without her album this wasn’t getting done. one more chapter after this one, i can’t believe it mannnnn 🥹

July 2025 — San Diego, California 

My hands are sweating more than they have ever before. I sit in silence in the driver's seat of my jeep, the car parked in the driveway. It’s a beautiful house. Costal, and fucking huge. There’s a four car garage and a driveway so big you could probably park two more cars next to mine. 

This car ride was definitely eye opening to say the least. In no world would you ever catch me driving more than 30 minutes let alone two hours to see another woman. 

I’d only ever do it for Maraye.

She’s heaven sent, just a completely unbelievable human being, and the second she sent that address I was in that car faster than I could blink.

It was always going to be her.

The sound of my foot bouncing on the car floor echos off the walls and I take that as the cue to go inside, I’ve been sitting here forever. I turn off my engine, sticking the keys in the pocket of my shorts before taking a deep breath. 

My feet feel heavy as they drag towards the wooden steps. Cedar fills my nose and calms me down, just enough.

The door swings open before I can even touch the handle.

I’m not sure if I should be pissed that Maraye looks so happy or, well, happy for her. She’s glowing, skin tanner than when I last saw her. Her curls look perfect, shiny and bouncy, perfectly framing her face. She got on these striped shorts that leave too much for my imagination and a USC Trojans cropped shirt. (Remind me to burn that.)

“You didn’t show up.”

I’m instantly taken aback by the immediate comment. My eyebrows furrow and I blink back my confusion.

“I—Huh?”

“My show. I wanted you there and you didn’t come.” She elaborates, crossing her arms over her chest and suddenly I’m losing focus and staring right there. 

I can’t help the laugh that escapes my throat, a smile spreads across my face. “That’s what you wanna talk to me ‘bout? Really?”

Maraye frowns, adjusting her position on her foot. I know she’s trying to look upset, and she probably is, but that fucking pout of her lips is the cutest thing I think I’ve ever seen.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” I admit. “But y’know we should prolly talk about something else.” My eyes squint as I look over her body. Just briefly I notice a crack in her demeanor. The sternness of her eyes slips and her lip just barely quivers. It’s like she just now realized that me being here meant talking about it.

We have to. I don’t think I’d be able to go to Indiana, knowing that she’s in the stands without knowing if she hates my guts or not.

Raye sighs, but it comes off more as a deep breath. Her arms drop to her sides and she moves from the doorway, giving just enough room for me to step inside.

She doesn’t say a word, just walking into the house like there’s nothing more to say. But I follow her anyway, looking like a lost puppy and staring at her so hard I damn near forget to lock the door.

This house is way bigger than I thought it would be, I swear I walked past a game room and a gym within three seconds of one another. It has an older style, hardwood floors and cream carpets. The lighting is dim and aside from the natural light that comes from the windows, the chandeliers from the ceiling illuminate the room with a yellow light.

After what feels like hours of walking, she stops, opening another door and revealing the balcony.

“Your grandma had nice taste. This place is crazy.” I comment, looking slightly shocked. I knew the places in San Diego were nice but goddamn. 

Raye lets out a breathy laugh, approaching the outdoor seating area. It’s dark, but the fireplace that glows bright orange and yellow is more than enough for her to see me and for me to see her. She sits down without a word and I do too, right next to her on the off-white colored couch.

I can feel the warmth that radiates off her body, almost hotter than the fire itself. She crosses her legs under her as she sits and the movement of her thighs sends me into orbit. 

“I’m not gonna say anything.” She speaks up, looking at me with her tongue trailing over her bottom lip.

I look at her incredulously. “Really? You ain’t gonna say shit?”

Maraye nods slowly. “Last time I saw you, I didn’t let you talk. So I’m lettin’ you talk now, you have the floor.” She gestures to the space in front of us. “I promise.”

“You swear?”

She makes a big show of zipping her lips and tossing the imaginary key behind her and it’s things like that, that make me crazy over her. The theatrics and the laughs, she’s so unapologetically herself around me all the time, even when I piss her off and she wants to put my head on a platter.

“I swear.” She smiles, turning her full attention to me.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling the pressure of this whole situation on my shoulder again. She’s the only person in the world that without fail makes my head empty. Raye looks at me, and within seconds I’ve lost everything that I’ve been practicing on saying in the car.

“Um. Fuck,” I sigh, shaking my head. “Ion even have a fuckin’ excuse for you. I jus’— I fucked up. Drank too much, saw her, I thought you were with Julian, and I made a big mistake, Raye.”

—

Hearing Paige say all that, made my throat tighten and my chest get all heavy all over again, the same way it did when I found out everything two weeks ago.

She can’t even look at me as she speaks, and that alone lets me know she’s telling the truth. That she feels bad, maybe even worse than what she says.

“You got every right to be mad at me.” She admits, she takes a breath with every few words. It’s like she’s having a shortcoming just by trying to apologize. 

A small part of me is happy to see her all stressed out like this, as if I think she deserves it. But I also fucking hate watching her struggle to get her words together. Normally she’s so confident, it’s the first time I think I’ve ever seen her so unsure of herself.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I always told you that you have a right to be upset or get emotional about things that people say, ‘cause you’re always thinkin’ you don’t get that luxury when you do.” Paige plays with her hands and it’s then when I notice the silver band on her pinky finger. “But as soon as you got mad at me, I told you that you don’t have a right to be mad.”

I nod, remembering it all. The downside of remembering everything is that I had to relive every word that she said to me that day when I woke up and when I went to bed and even in my sleep. 

“Paige it’s—”

“Nah, you said I have the floor, right? Swore you weren’t gon’ say shit.” She points at me with one finger, her other pointer finger over her lips. Very obviously telling me to shut up, and I do. 

I can’t help but smile at her. I think even now, with her hair in that messy ass bun and the purple star patch on her chin, she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. 

“You got every right in the world to be mad at me, because what I did to you was unforgivable.” Paige finally looks up at me and I think I’m about to drown in those eyes. “I made you cry, Raye. I’d never seen you cry before and I’m never gonna forget that shit. I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

I sniffle a little at her words. Hearing it from her lips while she looks at me is completely different from over the phone. 

I’m actually very glad that I waited this long, because the silence on my end completely aids in making sure I listen. Like actually listening, I’m not thinking of a rebuttal, or a way to defend myself, I’m just listening. Taking it all in.

Paige runs a hand over her chin. I know that action. She does it whenever she’s frustrated, or thinking, I don’t think she’s ever done it before with me; other than when she’s trying to get in my pants. But she does it all the time in her postgame interviews.

“I can’t go this long without speakin’ to you, Raye. You just… you’re so much different than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re fuckin’ special and— I wanna try this. Us.”

It’s certain, the most certain I’ve heard Paige be since she sat down. “If y’ont want that it’s fine too. We can be friends, or even fuckin’ acquaintances, I just— I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You left your mark, permanently.”

My breath hitches. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. She doesn’t even stutter when she says that, and it brings tears to my waterline. I already know I’m falling for every word she says. 

I do it because she looks at me like I’ve hung the moon and the stars. Her body is even closer to mine than it was before, I can see every single shift in the blue of her eyes, every ridge of her face, I can point each brown eyelash on her eyes. I’d fall for any and everything she said if it meant I had her here. Close like this.

“You uh, you told me that I don’t know you. And I think you’re wrong.” It takes me aback briefly. I wasn’t expecting it from her, especially not right now. “I know what makes you smile, how to make you laugh, how to get on your nerves.”

I roll my eyes at Paige instantly. So hard that they were probably a few millimeters away from getting stuck in the back of my head.

She laughs, that full, high pitched laugh that I’ve missed so fucking bad. “I mean you got a point. Ion know where your parents are from or your favorite show or how you like your coffee. Or if you even like coffee. Do you? I’m getting distracted.

“—I do like coffee—” I butted in briefly, any attempt to ease her obvious growing anxiety.

“—But I know enough to know that I want you and only you. You’re it for me, Raye. And I swear to God I’ll do right by you if you give me a chance. Teach me how to be your person and I’ll teach you.”

Paige sighs and I let a similar one slip from my lips too.

“Jus’ please. I’m sorry.”

My heart feels heavy with everything she’s just said to me. I know I should forgive her, every bone in my body wants me too. 

Then there’s that small part of me that doubts her just a bit. It’s the same part that creates an image of her and that girl almost everyday, the same part that doesn’t allow me to give people second chances. 

I don’t even notice the tear that slipped until I’m dropping my head in my hands and I feel it. My palms run across the expanse of my face. “I can talk now?” I tease.

“Yeah, ma. You can.” Paige shakes her head in pure amusement, not even trying to fight off the grin on her face.

“It’s so hard to stay mad at you when you say shit like that.” I groan. “Ion give people second chances, Paige. Y’know that.”

“Technically, you didn’t give me a real first chance ‘cause you had a boyfriend.” She says pointedly, bobbing her hands as if she’s trying to convince me of my options. “Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You wan’ me to get on my knees? I’ll do it, I’ll beg.”

I’m laughing but Paige is completely serious, slipping off the cushion and looking at me expectantly.

“Y’ont have t—”

But she’s already doing it, sinking to her knees below the couch and looking up at me with that damn pout of hers. “—Please, Raye. Gimme another chance, angel. I’ll do anything. Please?”

There’s no one here but me and her, yet the sight of her on her knees is enough to make me burst out in that kind of embarrassed laughter. “Can you get up?” I grit through my teeth.

“Girl, I’m on my knees!” Paige sings horrendously, and I roll my eyes again at her song reference. No way this girl thought she was gonna sing some Lloyd to convince me.

“Shut up and stand up, Madison.” I say again, attempting to pull her up by her biceps that have definitely gotten bigger in these last few weeks.

“Answer me first.”

“Yes, yes okay. I forgive you, just get up!” I giggle, covering my eyes with my palm until I feel the cushion dip beside me. “Oh my God, you’re not real.” I mumble, finally dropping my hand to see how proud she is of herself. 

“C’mere.” She instructs with a smile, opening her arms and I waist maybe a second of time before I’m turning and wrapping my arms around her neck.

Her shampoo wafts through the night air and straight to my nose, the cool zipper of her grey tech jacket against my stomach makes me jump a little bit, but she holds me there, tight to her body with her head in my neck.

“I fuckin’ missed you, dude.” Paige inhales. Only she could go from being sappy to calling me dude all in the same breath. It’s so uniquely Paige.

“I missed you too.” I sigh, breathing in her scent again.

I don’t think I want to let go. Because she’s here, hugging me like I could run away at any fucking minute, running her thumb over the open space on my back that my crop top is giving her. 

I pull back to gaze at her. That look she used to give me all the time before we even started anything, it’s there. A slight lift of the apples of her cheeks and her pupils dilated like I swore they did back then. Only this time I don’t have to think it, I know it. I see it.

I trail my hands to her cheeks, my thumb over her bottom lip. And then suddenly I’m licking mine and leaning into her.

Except Paige pulls back before we get the chance to touch.

“You don’t wanna kiss me? Really?”

She chuckles, “no I do, trust me. I really really want to. But if I kiss you, I’m gonna wanna do so much more.”

“Oh so know y’ont wanna fuck me? Paige—”

“Damn, shout it from the rooftops then!” Her eyebrows furrow at my sudden vulgarity and she leans towards me more. “Trust, I wanna do a lot of that. I just wanna take you on a date more.” Paige smiles and she looks awfully proud of herself for the cute suggestion.

It is cute. The way her cheeks flush in nervousness. I let the blonde pull me into her lap fully, adjusting me perfectly on her lap. Her hands run distractingly on my thighs, so much so that I almost forget to respond to her.

“Can I take you out on a date?”

I nod almost in a trance.

“You wanna use your words, ma?”

“Uh huh.”

“You do? Y’wanna say yeah?” She’s teasing me, and finding amusement in it too.

“Yes. You can take me out.” I blink, slapping a hand against her shoulder, and then again when I hear that god awful cackle escape her. “You’re so annoying.”

Paige licks her lips, not taking a single second to look away from me as I loll my head down to face her. “Tomorrow night, after the three point? You are still goin’ to Indy, right?”

“I am. That sounds perfect, Paige.” I grin, leaning over to ghost my lips across her cheek.

I can’t help but do it again. Her skin is so soft and warm, a near perfect spot for my lips to meet over and over again until Paige is humming and tossing her head back in an attempt to keep a respectful distance. It’s cute that she doesn’t trust herself this much. Even cuter that I’m doing practically nothing and she’s falling victim to me.

“Ion know if you got the memo, but this is st—ill kissing.” She groans, pushing at my hips.

I grip her chin in my hand, pulling back just enough to turn her head in the other direction and place kisses there. “Mmm no s’not. Our lips ain’t even close.”

And I continue this for a while, my lips on her cheeks, her jaw, ghosting over the corner of her lips in hopes of making her give in to me like she’s done many times before in the past. Paige surprised me though, standing her ground.

When I look back, her bottom lip is wet and swollen. My guess from biting it too many times. She’s breathless, and anyone else would’ve thought I’d just made her finish right here.

“I— I need to get back home. I got a flight at four.” Paige mumbles, darting her tongue over her lips.

I frown. “Fly with me from here, then.”

“My bags are at home, ma. And aren’t you flyin’ out private?” She questions, sending a pinch to my hip.

“Yes… so? I’ll call and reroute from LAX and you can come with me.” I shrug as if it’s that simple, and it probably could be if I call the right people.

Paige smirks that infamous fucking smirk. “Ion do small planes, angel. You know this. S’cute that you wanna be with me that bad, tho.”

I cross my arms over my chest, pouting. “Please, please, please?”

—

July 2025 — Somewhere over Nevada

I need to find some kind of ground to stand on when It comes to this woman.

My hands clutch my armrests, eyes squeezed shut, and head tossed back. 

I’m not scared of heights. Before anyone starts thinking that. I’m scared of tiny ass planes and not enough people on them. It was fine when we were on the ground, but the second the flight attendants were out of view and I had to get strapped in I almost shit myself.

“Paige, you can relax.” I hear Maraye giggle from in front of me, her feet resting in my lap to attempt to ground me. It worked out a little, then she started fucking around and nudging her heel a little too close to my core and all of a sudden I was trying to distract myself from something other than the plane. “P?”

“What?”

The sound of her seat belt clinging cuts through the silence, and then her feet are leaving my body and instead I feel her; all of her. Raye grips my hands, peeling the from the arms of the chair. My eyes shoot open at the contact. 

“What the hell are you doin’? Sit down.” I tell her, slightly tripping out over this flight some more. 

She gets smart, straddling my lap and sitting on it rather than in her seat. I let out a groan because I know that any other time I’d be all over this shit. Since last night, after I told her I was holding out at least until our date, she’s made a very big show of trying to get me to fold. 

First on the drive back to LA, her hand drawing patterns on my free hand, or reaching over to play with my hair. She had perfect hands. Long, slender, fingers with a shade of deep royal purple manicured on her nails. They’re fucking soft too, prefect enough to distract me while I was driving. I couldn’t help but think about how they’d feel inside me. Or circling my clit, feeling my wetness from her alone. That’s how I knew I was in so deep, when I was thinking about Raye fucking me numb just from her touching my hand.

She was talking some crazy shit too, which on any other occasion I’d be willing to handle that. But I was serious. Our relationship wasn’t going to be started on the basis of sex. I wanted to do it right. She slept In my guest bedroom because I knew If we shared a bed we wouldn’t be sleeping. Rather anything but that.

The car ride this morning was similar. Which made me realize she wasn’t doing all this just to prove a point, but because she needed me. When she told me she’d had a dream about me, told me all the details in which that dream entailed, I was about to make her wish come true and get on the floor of the passenger seat and shove my tongue so deep inside her that she saw stars. And I knew she would’ve enjoyed every minute because Raye let me know from her own mouth that she would.

Which made my brief period of celibacy nearly impossible.

She’s also not wearing clothes.

Well, she is, but not really. Her top is tiny, a sliver of fabric that barely covers her tits and shorts that ride up as soon as she gets comfortable on my lap.

“You wanna yell at me like that again?” Raye looks at me crazy, a bite of her lip and a tilt of her head that makes my entire body melt into a puddle in this seat.

“You so freaked out.” I groan, hold her hips in place. “Why the hell did I let you convince me to do this shit.” I wonder aloud trying to avoid looking out the window, noticing the obvious racing of my heart. Except I don’t know if it’s because of the plane of because of her ass pressing up on me. Her hips grinding on mine, her covered cunt dragging across the seam of my shorts.

She shrugs while trailing a finger down the obvious vein in my neck. “I dunno. You could’ve told me no.”

The slight movement pushed her tits even closer to my face and I know I’m about to either pass out or take her right here. Spread her out, rip these tiny ass pieces of fabric off her body, and drive my fingers inside her until she’s falling apart for every crew member of this plane to hear.

“Killin’ me here, ma. Move over a lil bit.” I ask, clutching a hand at her side, stilling her as much as I can and running my thumb over her ribcage. That’s where I finally see it. That damned tattoo that had me reeling on my bedroom floor last night. 

John 13:7.

I think it’s the worst time for it to be staring at me, mostly because I’m thinking some very not-so-holy thoughts. She’s testing every bit of my resolve at the moment, I was confident in my ability to hold out, but we have maybe two more hours before landing, and Maraye looks like she’s going to make me work for it the whole time.

Raye catches me staring, and she pushes a stand of hair out of her own face. “You like it?”

I nod wordlessly. Every single part of her is mesmerizing. All the ink, and then that brown of her skin is addicting. Tan lines peeking out of that tube top and up out of the waistband of her shorts.

I dig into my own shorts, pulling my phone out of my pocket before flipping the screen towards her. The same bible quote on my lock screen almost as if it was fate.

She smiles, pressing her hands to my shoulder and laughing breathily. “We're just on the same wavelength, huh?” Raye asks, I’m about to answer when she presses down harder on my lap, testing every single bit of self control I have left with just one simple movement.

“Mmhmm. Same shit, baby.”

[doctor-dusk]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

all you want for christmas is him.

warnings: soft dom!alex, smut, handjob, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, most fluff, lots of kisses and cuddles because it’s humbug alex :3

words: 4.7k

i've had this ready since the beginning of the month and i posted it today because it makes more sense with the story. i've never written anything with humbug al but i admit that this brought a smile to my face. hope you enjoy it :3

it was snowing heavily when you left home, but not as much when you got back. you find it strangely amazing how everything could change drastically in a matter of minutes. the road wasn't so slippery when you parked the car, and now, you slipped and almost fell on your butt twice just to put the christmas presents in the trunk of the car.

ah, yes. it was christmas. one of the best times of the year, and without a doubt, it was your favorite. where you could get together with family and friends, exchange gifts and eat a lot without feeling remorseful about gaining a few extra pounds on the scale later. it was still the 23rd of december, but you had already been in the christmas spirit since november.

you took advantage of your free day to buy presents for the children. you made a mental note of what each of them wanted as a gift, casually asking what they would like for christmas that year. it was as easy as taking candy from a baby's mouth.

alex didn't go with you. he was too invested in the cookies to be able to accompany you. but you didn't complain, you loved it when he got excited about it, even though in the end he made a mess in the kitchen, with eggshells on the counter and flour on the floor. but the mess was the least of your worries.

you simply loved seeing how excited and happy he was, helping you decorate the house with wreaths on the doors and small ornaments on the windows, and of course, decorating the christmas tree. it was all full of laughter and jokes, as if at that moment you were in a cliché christmas movie.

you parked the car in the garage, getting out quickly to get the presents out of the car without taking too long, it was really freezing as night fell. you put the handles of the bags over your arms, making sure you didn't forget anything before locking the car and entering the house through the back door, avoiding getting the entire living room dirty with your snow-covered boots as much as possible.

the back door led directly to the laundry room, so you took the opportunity to take off your boots and put on your slippers, leaving your socks on your feet. alex thought it was funny — not to say strange — that you walked around the house in slippers and socks, but when he least expected it, he were already walking around the house like that too.

he usually says that you are a bad influence on him. but you are proud of it. it's not like he doesn't like it after all. he liked having a little bit of you in his habits.

before you crossed the small hallway that connected the laundry room and the kitchen, you could already smell cookies in the air. the soft vanilla aroma filled your nostrils as you approached the counter. alex wasn't there, all you saw besides an impeccably clean kitchen was the porcelain container with the warm cookies and a small note stuck under the small bowl.

you left the presents in a safe place on the floor, making a little mental note to pick them up later and beg alex to help you wrap them all — begging because alex liked to hear you say that he knew how to make much prettier gift bows than yours.

one free hand took the small note between your fingers, while the other rushed to grab one of the cookies from the pile, feeling the soft warmth on your fingertips. you took a bite, the chocolate chips practically melting in your mouth in an explosion of flavors, making you let out a satisfied hum.

your eyes drifted to the small note, recognizing alex’s elaborate handwriting as if he was always in a hurry to write, as if the words would disappear from his mind at any moment and he needed, no, needed to write it down somewhere before he forgot. it no longer surprised you to see loose letters and verses written in the most unusual places, like on the calendar stuck to the wall, or on his empty cigarette pack.

back to the main point, you read the small sentences written with the graphite of a worn pencil:

“meet me at the studio.

ps: sorry about the glass :(”

you frowned, soon understanding the meaning of the observation when you saw a small cardboard box in the corner with “glass” written on the top. he probably accidentally broke a glass while making the cookies, but that was no reason to make you angry, so you ignored it as you made your way to the studio at the end of the hallway that started in the living room.

the door was ajar, so you just gave it a little push. the studio always smelled of pine. you didn’t know exactly if it was because of the instruments, most of them structured with the most varied types of noble wood. but you loved that smell, especially when it was mixed with the smell of alex’s perfume. the place was annoyingly organized, he made sure not to leave anything out of place, whether he was alone or not. everything was impeccably in its place, the low lights brought a subtle comfort along with the colorful twinkling lights around the christmas tree set up there.

but what was truly a feast for your eyes was seeing your boyfriend lying there partially next to the christmas tree. the incandescent lights of the studio made his skin look warm, glowing. like a candle slowly burning, waiting for you. you looked up at him, an amused smile playing on your lips as he smiled back at you.

‘’what’s this?” you gestured to him lying next to the christmas tree, his wavy hair decorated with crimson red bows in the strands.

“don’t you like it, love?” he pouted. oh, you loved and hated that pout of his. you could break it if you could and then you would shower him with kisses until his lips were swollen.

“that’s not it. what are you doing?” you laughed, curious to know what he was planning. he had a gift box on his lap and a suggestive smile on his lips.

“i was preparing your gift. you got ‘ere just in time.” alex replied, patting the carpeted floor next to him so you could join him.

‘’i thought we were only going to exchange gifts at your parents' house in two days.’’ you answered in a slight tone of inquiry as you sat down next to him, your thighs touching and soon your shoulders too when he leaned in to kiss you on the temple.

he let out a laugh through his nose.

‘’believe me, this is not the kind of gift you want to open in front of my parents.’’ he joked, making you raise your eyebrows, curious about what was inside the box he was holding in his lap.

‘’is it a new lingerie?’’ you asked as you tried to guess what was inside. he shook his head in denial.

‘’why don't you open it and see?’’ he suggested, nudging you with his elbow so you could open the box. you knew you could be expecting anything from him now since he wasn't going to tell you what was in there. alex was the kind of guy who never got tired of surprising you.

carefully, you undid the red bow that was on the green box, lifting the lid cautiously, taking a quick peek. your eyes widened, several feelings going through your mind in a split second. in the end, you burst out laughing.

“alex!” you laughed, patting his shoulder, closing the box and opening it again to take another peek to make sure you were really seeing it.

“what? are you going to tell me you didn’t like it?” he asked, his shoulder touching yours, nudging you lightly. you laughed, checking it a second and third time, your face blushing. “stop it, you’re acting like you’ve never seen this in your life.”

“no, this is…” you laughed again, unable to react beyond laughter. of course, you weren’t expecting to see that inside the box. “did you even put a little bow on it?”

“of course, it’s a gift. i thought it would look more presentable for you.’’ he said and you rubbed your eyes, still laughing a little more.

“you’re terrible.” you shook your head, but you loved it, looking back with a sweet smile. ‘’but i liked the gift. i always wanted to have your cock with a little bow around it as a christmas gift.’’

“i would get naked for you, but it’s too cold.” he murmured and you laughed, kissing the tip of his cold nose.

“no need. thank you for the gift.” you said, kissing the tip of his nose again, trailing the kisses to his flushed cheeks, making a short path to the corner of his mouth, feeling the skin on his cheek flex because of his smile. ‘’can i enjoy it?’’

“you must.” he laughed, holding your hand, guiding it inside the box so you could finally touch him. he would be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn’t dying to feel your hand. you felt how warm and soft it was. in an impulse that you swore you couldn't control, you squeezed it gently, you played with the idea that it was like a squishy stress ball when it wasn't hard. "weirdo." he laughed, feeling that your touches were already starting to make him excited, the blood pumping quickly to the muscle, stiffening quickly. 

"don't judge me. you know how i like it when it's all soft like this.’’ you laughed in a murmur, your hand finally removing the box from the middle so that your path was clear for you to continue touching him, feeling his arm go around your waist so you could lie down next to him. 

he kissed your forehead, you could feel his breathing getting shaky as your fingers worked on him, feeling that softness being replaced by a warm and firm hardness, and you thought it would be a good idea to undo the tie around it, as cute as you thought it was. you didn't want it to end up hurting him because it was too tight. his face was close, too close. you could feel his eyelashes tickling your cheek as he tried to kiss you without getting lost in the feel of your fist closed around him, sliding up and down tortuously, the moans almost sounding like shy whimpers.

“god, i love when you touch me.” he murmured between kisses, feeling you tease him in response, circling the tip of your thumb around the tip, spreading the clear precum around it.

“does it feel good?” you asked, your eyes practically sparkling as you looked at him. he had no idea how beautiful he looked like this, with his eyes closed, his lips parted and his curly hair falling over his cheekbones like a small waterfall. you were completely fascinated by him.

“sooo good…” he dragged the word with a subtle movement of his hips, searching for your hand, searching for more, always more. he buried his face in your neck, making you roll over to feel the carpeted floor beneath your back. ‘’i love you so much…’’ he murmured, his hips moving against your hand in a delicious back and forth manner, your fist clenching a little tighter, increasing the pressure of your grip around him a little.

before you knew it, you were practically stuck together, one hand holding the back of your neck while the other undid the button of your jeans while he forced his knees to support the weight of his body between your legs. by this time he had already gotten rid of his pants, leaving them lying next to the christmas tree. you closed your eyes at the feeling of his fingers teasing the elastic of your panties under your pants, taking the opportunity to kiss his neck, delirious even more with the gasps he let out. alex had a sensitive neck, so you took advantage of every opportunity to kiss him and feel his skin shivering against your lips.

he mumbled something that you didn't understand at first because you were so lost in the sensations, but as soon as he stopped moving his hips and brought the hand that was on the back of your neck to your cheek, you came back to yourself.

‘’what did you say?’’

he smiled, kissing your forehead.

‘’i asked you to lift your hips, love. can't touch you with you wearing those pants.’’ he said, gentle and patient, even though he was seething inside. you raised your eyebrows, feeling foolish for mere seconds before lifting your hips, letting him do the rest. he paused for a moment, looking at your panties. ‘’those panties are new, aren't they?’’

‘’for god's sake…’’ you laughed, covering your face with one hand. alex paid attention to everything, even the clothes you wore, and it was no different with your panties. he was just very observant, especially when it came to you.

‘’what? i just asked.’’ he laughed too, leaving his palm on the light fabric printed with small roses on white cloth, letting his thumb slide from top to bottom, meticulously over your sensitive spot, making you curl your toes a little. ‘’it's not like i didn't like it. i love roses.

‘’they’re new, yes.’’ you confirmed. ‘’does it make any difference now?’’

‘’not now.’’ he shrugged, hooking his fingers on the sides so he could pull the piece down your legs. ‘’in the end, all the panties you wear end up thrown in some corner of the room. this one here would be no different.’’ he said as he finished pulling the intimate piece over your feet, leaving it in an ignored place.

you felt a voracious shiver, not only because of the cold on your legs, but because you were so close and he was touching you so masterfully, letting his fingertips slide along the inside of your thigh, he could already feel the heat radiating off your skin as he trailed lower, touching every part of your skin that he could reach. 

before you knew it, he was already between your legs, hooking his hands under your thighs to spread your legs apart gently, nuzzling his nose along your inner thigh, inhaling your scent. it was good, almost intoxicating to him, but he couldn't live without it.

your hand automatically moved to the back of his head, the relatively long locks barely held between your fingers, so silky and soft.

he looked up at you, the desire in his eyes mirroring yours as he pressed a soft kiss right on your clit, making it throb in response. it was something similar to when you kissed the tip of his cock when you're about to give him a blowjob, like a silent and promising tease.

his tongue danced slowly and deliberately along your folds, licking all the way up, savoring your taste as soft whimpers escaped your lips, his hands now on your inner thighs, keeping them spread wide for him to feast on you.

‘’feels so good…’’ you managed to say between the whimpers and moans. his heart beat even faster, knowing he was pleasing you just right. not that he didn't know, but he liked it when you were vocal. he swirled his tongue around your clit in slow circles, occasionally dipping it lower to tease your entrance with the tip of his tongue. your hand on his hair tightened, letting him know he was on the right track.

‘’want more?’’ he asked with a muffled voice.

‘’only if you want to.’’ you answered, not wanting to force him into something, even though you knew alex could suffocate to death between your legs if you let him.

his answer was to bury his face between your legs, his tongue delving inside you, stopping only when he moved his lips so he could suck your clit hard. your breathy and desperate moans only turned him on, his fingers almost penetrating your flesh to keep your legs spread wide as he ate you out relentlessly.

‘’taste so good, baby.’’ he moaned against your flesh, his nose pressing on your clit as he devoured you ravenously, lapping at your core and drinking your essence greedily. ‘’so fucking good.’’ he hissed, feeling his own desire throbbing between his legs as he worked you higher and higher.

‘’fuck, alex, i'm…’’ you whispered, feeling your skin shivering. you usually never got goosebumps when he was eating you out, so when he felt the skin on your thigh crawling under his hands, he paused, looking up at you with his face glistening in saliva and your wetness.

‘’are you cold, love?’’ he asked when he felt the goosebumps on your thigh. you nodded. ‘’hold on.’’ he said, reaching behind him to grab a folded blanket you had left there the day before because you were listening to alex play the piano and almost always ended up dozing off to the melody.

he put the blanket over himself and turned his body to lie on top of you, warming you not only with the blanket, but with the heat of his body on yours.

‘’better?’’ he asked, making sure you were feeling warm enough. you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him, the kiss answering everything you both needed to know at the moment, the taste of you lingering on his tongue, now mixing on your mouths.

as the kiss dragged on, you felt his hand caress the skin of your belly under your sweater, going up to fondly grope one of your breasts, your legs locked around his waist bringing him impossibly closer, your intimacies touching, rubbing against each other in a frenzy of anticipation.

‘’alex…’’ you whimpered softly, nibbling on his earlobe, feeling him shiver slightly against your body.

‘’i know, love, i know.’’ he murmured against your neck, not needing to say anything else, just act. and so soon, you felt him fit perfectly between your legs, moving in and out slowly, and that alone made your body tingle and soften at the same time.

your skin burned like burning embers, every touch and every thrust seemed to take you to a private paradise where all that existed was the two of you getting lost in each other, drowning in that ocean of pleasure. the lights oscillating between yellow, orange and red on the christmas tree next to you seemed to make his face flush more when he lifted his face to look at you, you could easily get lost in that surrendered look, in that little face contorted with pleasure.

but you couldn't let yourself be fooled, not when he brought his hand around your neck, his thumb caressing and feeling your rapid pulse under the skin of your neck while his hips moved more fluidly and, consequently, faster. the sound of skin colliding with skin began to echo through the small studio, joining the sound of both of your moans.

you clung tighter to him, your hands invading his sweater to feel the boiling skin of his back against your palms. it was too hot now, so you pulled the blanket away, both of you wearing only your sweaters on top. soon, your hands returned to roaming his sides, holding his hips and encouraging him in his rhythmic and precise thrusts.

turner leaned in to kiss you again, your hands going straight to his hair, your fingers tangling in the strands and the little bows attached to it. you didn't know whether to moan or laugh at the fact that you were having sex while he had little red bows attached to his locks. alex was too unpredictable for his own good.

but you chose to moan, especially because it was impossible not to have that reaction when you felt him so good and so deep like that, the inside of your cunt seemed to be perfectly molded for his cock, squeezing and feeling him hitting that spot over and over again, which forced your body to contort and cling to his tighter. his name was like a melody in your mouth, echoing vividly with the sound of his thrusts, you even found it difficult to keep your eyes open to admire every little expression on his face.

‘’you look so beautiful like this, you know that?’’ he gasped, holding your face with his hand, his fingers gently squeezing your cheeks, his lips giving you several little kisses, one after the other. ‘’so beautiful and so mine…’’ he continued, punctuating his words with sharp and deep thrusts, knowing that you loved the compliments, loved how much he liked to compliment even your toenails, no matter how much you told him how ridiculous they were.

you brought your hand between your bodies, wanting more stimulation. your fingers circled lazily around your pleasure point, feeling him go back and forth inside you, listening to the muffled sounds from the back of his throat as he kissed and nibbled on your neck, his hands gripping your skin in any way he could, marking his territory.

you tried not to moan too much, but it was so hard, you had a lot to deal with at the moment, and you tried to kiss him or bite your lip so as not to let any loud sounds escape. but damn, this was driving alex crazy, completely out of his mind to the point where he couldn't control himself as he moved so fast, that knot in his stomach was starting to form inside him.

when you felt him slow down a little, your eyes searched his as you lifted your eyelids, a look of slight desperation taking over his facial features.

‘’what's wrong, love?’’ you asked, trying not to be so worried, your free hand reaching up to touch his face.

‘’it's just that i... fuck, i'm so close…’’ he murmured a little breathlessly, swallowing hard. ‘’i don't want to come right now...’’

‘’honey, it's okay…’’ you reassured him. of course, it was rare for him to cum before you, but it happens. he always made sure to hold back as long as possible so that you could have your pleasure, maybe even twice so that he could finally feel free to let the orgasm consume him too. you said it was selfish of him, but he never listened to you.

‘’no, not before you.’’ he shook his head, reluctantly holding himself back. but it was so hard when he felt your walls squeezing him, making him so sensitive and stimulated that it was already out of control.

‘’alex, look at me, love.’’ you said, holding his face with both hands. ‘’you know i don't care about that.just let go, i'm right behind you, i promise.’’ you said, distributing hot kisses all over his face, your hand returning to your clit, rolling your hips a little against his to stimulate him more.

it didn't take more than that. your soothing words, your kisses on his neck and the feeling of you squeezing around him like a warm hug were enough to make him spill inside you, holding your thighs tightly as he pulsed inside you vigorously, making you feel that familiar feeling of fulfillment.

you barely had time to open your eyes and catch your breath. you felt him slide out of you, his member being replaced by his ring and middle fingers, burying them inside you until reach his knuckles, the unannounced invasion made you close your legs in a reflex, soon relaxing them when he kissed your face.

‘’let me take care of you now, darling." he whispered to you, your foreheads pressed together as he pumped his fingers back and forth quickly, and you were already delirious. you loved it when he touched you. of course, being a natural guitarist, turner really knew how to move his fingers, especially inside you.

in no time, you were already a mess, his fingers continued tirelessly, alternating between going back and forth or curving upwards, massaging your g-spot with fervor. you didn't care that everything was getting too wet, too sticky with his fresh cum dripping from your hole that was now filled with his two fingers, you just knew how to enjoy the sensation and slowly come undone by spasms.

‘’alex, alex…’’ you moaned, both of you working together with your fingers, building your orgasm little by little as you grabbed the back of his neck to bring him into a wet kiss at the same time that you reached your climax, shaking and almost writhing like an acrobat on the floor, his fingers continued to stimulate you, but with less intensity now, trying not to overstimulate you.

‘’mhm, that’s it, baby.’’ he mumbled between sweet kisses on your swollen lips, satisfied that he could make you finish.

the panting breaths soon died down, your hearts returning to normal beats as he laid his head on your chest, his sticky fingers finally abandoning you, leaving you with a strange feeling of emptiness as it happened every time.

you murmured softly to him, your free hand undid one of the ties in his hair so that you could comb it back, unsticking the strands from his sweaty forehead.

“hm?” he asked, looking up so that his lazy eyes met yours.

“i'm cold again.” you pouted and he laughed through his nose, reaching for the blanket that was thrown on the floor again, covering your completely tired bodies again. ‘’i loved the gift, al.’’

‘’you're welcome.’’ he murmured with a low laugh, reaching for the skin of your collarbone to give it a kiss or two. you smiled, pulling him closer, his body was on top of yours, but he tried not to distribute his weight completely on you. he kissed your flushed face more times than he could count, his hand caressed the back of your neck, and you swore you could hear him purring like a kitten.

‘’it feels so good here…’’ you murmured, your voice was sleepy. alex chuckled softly, you always got sleepy after sex, so this was no surprise to him anymore.

‘’we can stay here a little longer.’’ he replied, hugging you and rolling your bodies so that you could be with your body on top of his.

he held your face, the little kisses didn't seem enough, so he kissed you more intensely, his tongue parting your lips so he could explore your mouth as if it were the first time. when you broke the kiss, he swallowed, licking his lips as if he was thoughtful and trying to come to a conclusion.

‘’what's wrong?’’ you asked curiously.

‘’kiss me again.’’ he asked. you found it unusual, but didn't say anything back, kissing him the same way, letting him taste your mouth more. when you broke the kiss again, he laughed. ‘’did you eat one of the cookies on the counter?’’

‘’of course i did.’’ you laughed along. ‘’did you only realize now?’’

‘’yeah. i was too busy fucking you to realize that.’’ he said and you rolled your eyes at how direct he was, but you didn't think it was bad. ‘’but i liked it. cookie kisses.’’

‘’did you like it?’’ you smiled, feeling him brush his nose against yours in an eskimo kiss.

“i loved it.” he replied, your foreheads and the tips of your noses touching as if they were made for that. “and you know what else i love?”

you smiled. you knew what he was going to answer, but you always liked hearing him say it.

“what?” you asked, your eyes shining at him as you waited for his answer.

“you.”

a/n: idk if i'll post anything else in the next few days or before new years, so merry xmas in advance <3

taglist (let me know if you want to be included or excluded): @thenightslikeawhirlwind, @goblinontour, @yourstartreatment

[wastemee]

i think that i would die

jimmy grant (?) + fem reader

content warning . noncon/dubcon , toxic relationship , painal , barely legal reader

note: very unedited!!!! I’m lazy this is bad

When your eighteenth birthday has finally come , you had never been happier. You’re an adult (in the eyes of the law , at least)! Late night clubbing and cigarettes , here you come. Although you don’t have much friends , at least you have your trusty ID on you and your car (which is really your parents). College is definitely an option , your parents would provide you the money if you asked. But for now , you’re just working at some job that’s mundane and boring. The only reason you go is because your parents have connections , got you a job so you can buy all the stuff you could ever want. Given it’s in your paycheck budget.

Nothing or anybody interesting happened to catch your eye during your shift , until a few months ago. Your now boyfriend , Jimmy. He’s tall , handsome , and although he’s a bit dark , he’s yours. If your wish was to get an extremely morally gray boyfriend who definitely has personal issues , you won the lottery.

Your family doesn’t approve , but who would? He has very.. “controversial” opinions and strange comments on modern things that he claimed , “I didn’t have in my day”. His thoughts on feminism are bleh. Whenever you ask for him to elaborate , his response is always something like , “This word has gone to shit” or “Women think they have so much power”. He has very traditional beliefs about women , he still thinks that the only place women are needed is the kitchen and on their male partners dick. And honestly thinks you’re an idiot for still dating him.

Dating is a funny word to him. He wouldn’t consider your relationship ‘dating’ , he just likes you because you’re young , conventionally attractive , and a little bit naive. If he told you the roof said gullible on it , you’d look up because you trust him that much. Fresh meat. That’s what you are. You’re barely legal , what more is there to like?

He has you tag along with him to get togethers with his former coworkers , people he was working with in space! Amazing. He went from working in space to fucking and dumping girls from eighteen to twenty. When he first told you about his former job , you couldn’t believe him. He’s a sleaze , a sleazy astronaut.

Curly , his best friend , is chatting it up with him in his dirty apartment. Stubble frames his nice skin , lips curled up into a grin. He’s cute. But in a dog kind of way , not like a grown man. He has nice , blonde hair and his eyes are full of promise and kindness , unlike his best friend. Anya’s a young lady with sad looking eyes and a shaggy haircut , who for some reason , seems a bit uncomfortable with Jimmy. She doesn’t say much , Jimmy told you that. He also said she was extremely incompetent and utterly incapable of doing anything on the ship , but he says that about a lot of people. Then there’s Daisuke , who is just a ball of joy. Jimmy seems irritated by his painfully optimistic behavior whenever he interjects in conversation or talks.

Any idiot knows that if someone talks to you about another , then obviously they’ll talk about you as well. Unfortunately , you don’t. Nothing could’ve prepared you for all the things you found out Jimmy says about you when snooping through his phone , and his little friend doesn’t even say anything. Usually if someone were to call their girlfriend an idiot , or ‘meat’ , the average person would feel disturbed. But Curly shrugs it off with no reprimands for your boyfriend’s icky comments.

And of course , when Jimmy found out about your sneaky little habit , he was pissed for sure. A quick slap to your face , or shoving his dick down your throat when you definitely don’t want it , obviously does nothing for your behavior. Instead of forcing your head down on him , maybe fucking you so hard you feel like your guts will fall out could fix your behavioral issues.

He’s really pushing the limits of his flimsy bed frame with the way he thrusts into your ass , one hand on the headboard and the other gripping your already bruised hips. Pained moans slip out of your throat and into his hot room’s space , stubby nails scratching against the cheap wood. “Jim— Jimmy—“ you barely manage to gasp , tears pricking at your eyes and your stomach churning from both the pain and the unfamiliar feeling of him tearing into your body. He ignores your pleas , only pressing your face into the headboard harshly.

He groans under his breath , gritting his teeth and burying himself into you , chest pressed against your back like he’s trying to merge your sweaty bodies together. All he can think about is the way you clench around him and squirm like a wounded animal , and it’s the only thing keeping him going. The thought of molding you into what he wants and dumping you on the side of the street back at your house after he loses all interest in you makes his head spin and his dick hard.

“Please,” you whimper , pained tears rolling down your face and soaking into his dirty sheets. Your teary eyes squeeze shut , because if you look at him , you might just hurl all over yourself *and* the pillows. His hand moves from your hip and to your warm face , nails digging into your puffy cheeks and forcing your face to his. He doesn’t even need you to open your eyes and see his face when he’s fucking you like an animal , rough and hard.

“It’ll be over,” Jimmy mutters , hot breath making contact with your face and making your nose scrunch up instinctively. Cigarettes and booze , it sickens you. “ ‘cause you’ll shut up and take it , right? Let me cum in you without a word?” His words are harsh and teasing in a way. Teasing you because he knows you’ll never say no , teasing you because no matter what your friends and family say , you’ll let him do whatever he wishes.

Callously hands drift down to your tight throat , squeezing lightly. Not enough to kill you , but enough to make you feel light headed and sick to your stomach. Your hand overlaps his , urging him to take his rough hand from your windpipe. Listening to you is the last thing he’ll ever do.

All of this banging you against was practically foreplay , and his orgasm is the main event of his rape-y affection. He moans through his gritted teeth , hips meeting yours and spewing his seed into you , not bothering to pull out or check up on you with a simple , “You okay?”.

Just because you’re used to it , doesn’t mean you like. It definitely doesn’t mean that.

Jimmy’s hands slowly fall from your neck , lips pressed against your temple and his lips curled up into a cruel smirk. “Shit,” he murmurs into your ear , knocking against your head with his fist. “Think I’ve emptied you all of you’ve got. Don’t think there’s anything in here”. He chuckles , voice just as condescending as ever. You’re starting to think he’s right. Maybe there isn’t anything in your head , not anymore , you wouldn’t doubt it. From hopeful and optimistic , to drained all in the span of a few weeks.

You’ve made your bed , and now you must lie in it. For however long Jimmy deems fit.

[polutrope]

Very happy birthdays to you and Melesta! Wishing you both health and joy and freedom.

Would love a little scene between Finduilas and Turgon, in Valinor, "after." If you feel so moved.

🧡

Turgon and Finduilas, reembodied. Rated G, 1100 words. By @polutrope and @melestasflight. On AO3.

“Sorontië, Numentië, Asartië,” Turgon mutters to himself, looking from street corner to street corner, placing names upon the grid of Tirion. Strange that he, who built a city in its image, now finds the grandeur and pulse of Tirion too much to bear. Perhaps it is only the freshness of his renewed body, but everything is so dazzling here, too clean, and the reflected light off all the marble and painted glass hurts his eyes. 

As his gaze travels between stalls, carriages, and ornate facades, they land upon one nearby who had until now escaped his notice for how still they stood amidst the city’s perpetual movement. 

“Findaráto?” he says, half to himself, because he knows that hair, that peculiar shade of gold as if a bloom of Laurelin has just burst open. But no, he has seen Finrod since he returned — this figure is slight, delicate, as Finrod was in his youth. Not as he is now, in his second life, a warrior reborn as their people’s crown prince.   

The body turns and the face that greets him is both alike to Finrod’s and distinctly not. A deep frown adorns her fair features. “How many more in this city will take me for my uncle?”

“I am sorry, lady,” Turgon says, nodding in greeting — and it is only when he lifts his chin and looks at her that her words fully settle in his mind. “Your… uncle?”

Her frown deepens and she looks as if she is ready to throw yet another accusation at him, but she is interrupted by a jewelry seller thrusting an elaborate hair ornament practically into her face.

“Would the lady Finduilas like to try this piece instead?” The seller is almost shouting in her excitement. “It is our latest, created by Lúletinwë.” When Finduilas does not react, the seller adds, sympathetically: “Tirion’s most famous designer of this century.” 

Finduilas — Turgon knows the name. Could it be? Finduilas of Nargothrond, Orodreth’s daughter, Finrod’s most beloved niece? Finduilas now glares at the jewelry seller, the exasperation written upon her face.

Turgon cannot blame her. He looks from her face to the ornament: it is like a malformed octopus made of gems, lined with the most ostentatiously enormous, poorly cut, and ill-matched ruby and emerald crystals Turgon has ever seen. 

“Return that hideous clump of rock to the bowels of the earth where it belongs!” Turgon blurts, physically recoiling. He shudders. “Better yet, cast it into the Void.”  

The jewelry seller’s eyes widen in shock, her jaw dropping. Turgon winces; his mouth has run away with him, again. He considers apologizing, taking back the offense, when a thunder of laughter sounds at his side. Finduilas is roaring, doubled over, and then she grabs Turgon’s forearm to steady herself.

“Oh, that’s the best insult I have yet heard in this new life,” Finduilas says when she regains control of herself. “You, lord, curse as well as the very uncle you just mistook me for, when he loses his famed calm.” Then she turns to the seller, whose face has now hardened like baked clay: “We shall not be requiring your assistance further, lady. I thank you.”

Finduilas leads him away, sliding her hand into the bend of his elbow. Turgon glances over his shoulder for one last look at the jewel-seller: she still glares after them, and this prompts a laugh to leap from his throat. 

“It is good to meet you, Finduilas,” he says. “I did not know you were…” It has not become easy, yet, knowing how to speak of having been dead.

“Yes, I am. Returned to life.” Finduilas smiles gently as she turns to him, her earlier frown replaced by mirth. “The pleasure is all mine and please excuse my impatience; I am yet new to this business of living again. May I know your name, also, oh saviour from the terrors of Tirion’s fashion?”

“Oh, yes, I am sorry, I–” Turgon feels the heat in his cheeks, knows that he is making a fool of himself. He feels a child, sometimes, who has to learn the simplest things all over, such as how to place words together… what to call himself. What does he call himself, to this child of Beleriand, reborn in Aman, who never knew him as anything but — what did she know him as? How did Finrod speak to her of him? What did she think of him, the distant King of the Noldor who stayed ensconced in his mountain valley while Nargothrond fell to ruin? 

He settles for the name he carried for nigh five centuries. “I am Turgon." Finduilas’ brows arch: in surprise, joy, or fear, Turgon cannot tell, and he hastens to add: “But you may call me uncle, if you wish.”

Finduilas does not seem to share his doubts, the ruin of her fair city so far away that she barely remembers it. “The famed Turgon!” she cries heartily. “My uncle has barely spoken of anything else since your return. At last I meet you!” Then, Finduilas tosses herself into his embrace, arms tightening around his ribs. The top of her hair tickles Turgon’s cheek; she is of Idril’s height, almost to the inch. Turgon holds her against himself. It is the most at home he has felt since returning – strange as that may seem, embracing a kinswoman he never knew in his previous life. But there is something about Finduilas being both new and familiar that sets him at ease.

They pull apart, still smiling, and Turgon says: “If you are still looking for some adornment, I have just remembered a florist where my daughter – long ago – often went to pick out an assortment of exotic flowers brought up from the south. She would arrange them in a wreath herself.” Finduilas’ face brightens at what she hears and Turgon summons the courage to offer his help. “If you would like, I will take you there, for it is not easy to find.” 

Passingly, he wonders if the shop is still there at all, but does not speak this thought aloud. 

“Lead the way!” Finduilas agrees with a grin more golden than her fair tresses.

Turgon takes her hand, recalling the weight of his young daughter’s hand as he once led her through this crowded marketplace. He guides Finduilas from the bright bustle, towards the secluded, peaceful neighbourhood on the southern slope of Túna where he remembers a quaint little flower shop, down a narrow lane. As they walk in comfortable silence, warmth, as sweet as honeyed tea, fills his chest. 

He has made his first friend in this new Tirion.

Birthday Prompts

[laauranenn]

I agree with many points in your response especially sugishita/ tsubakino part

So the most jarring part About the absence of Sakura's backstory is that nii himself mentioned he has no framework of sakura's past until now , like he has no idea how to start it, he had clear ideas for the side characters backstories " umemiya & tsubakino" but not for Sakura's , I don't understand how can we say "he is setting up Sakura's backstory" when he still doesn't have clear idea for it

So far there’s 160+ chapters and we still don’t know anything about Sakura’s past. Usually when it comes to main protagonists in manga, it’s the opposite but Sakura is such a mysterious character. He’s a 15-16 year old kid who lives by himself out of town. Who are his parents? Is he an orphan? Did he get abandoned and disowned by his family? It leaves me with so many questions

He gave us so many unnecessary flashbacks during fights. Umemiya ,suzuri, tsubakino and kaji received too much flashbacks and lore , Sakura didn't have any flashbacks except the tight rope in ch 56. Umemiya had an entire arc " chapter 88 to 97" about his past with solo volume cover, i believe Sakura won't receive the same treatment like umemiya

Aside from the lack of Sakura's Lore,also the worldbuilding is so bad where are the police why are these KIDS the police?? hello irresponsible adults?? the world feels so empty , the antagonists are lame , endochika get off so easy.They basically caused a war that got many people injured & traumatized all so Chika could have a fun birthday it’s a lil more fucked up

Glad to hear you agree with my points!!

I didn't actually know that about Nii not having a backstory planned for Sakura! When/where was this said? Not that I don't believe you, I'd just like to see it for myself as well! I haven't looked too much at Nii's official Twitter, mostly because of it not being in English. I really should look through it more huh.,

That definitely changes things though, and it makes me understand your frustration a lot more! Though I think it's typical for authors to not have characters fully planned out when writing? I'm not 100% sure about that, but it sounds right to me. I can't imagine having every character fully planned out. The most we can do is trust that Nii has it all figured out! I've really enjoyed the backstories of other characters and the worldbuilding, so I trust that he's got it handled.

Could you elaborate on your opinion on "unnecessary" flashbacks and lore? For characters like Kaji and Suzuri, the flashbacks give us a clearer idea of the themes the characters portray, as well as give us insight into how they think.

For Kaji, we get his struggle with his anger, as well as the way he dehumanizes himself, and the way he learns to cope with it. We find out more about him as a person, and about his relationships with his vice captains and Hiragi. I think Kaji is an incredibly interesting character, and I enjoyed learning more about him. Though if he isn't a character you care for, I can see why these scenes would feel unnecessary.

Kaji also plays a similar role to Umemiya, where he's someone in the same position as Sakura/ in the position Sakura is aiming for.

(Since Kaji is a grade captain like Sakura.)

I've also seen something about parallels between Kaji and Sakura? Though I haven't looked into that too much.

As for Suzuri, the flashbacks and lore we get for him are important for the fight. Suzuri serves as the primary threat in the Roppo Ichiza arc. He's the person leading Gravel and goes against Tsubakino in the fight. The fight wouldn't be able to play out the same had we received zero backstory or lore for him and the rest of Gravel.

As for the specific chapters, not to hit you with the "Erm, actually!" but the tightrope is ch. 60 I believe? As for Umemiya having chapters 88-97, I'd say 88-92 are more about Furin's history and Endo's war declaration. They include Umemiya since he is the one who united Furin.

Chapters 93-97, however, are about Umemiya. But that is to be expected, considering those chapters are his backstory.

I'm not exactly sure what the solo volume cover thing is about? A lot of the manga covers feature other characters.

It's true, that typically in media we get the backstory of the main character, as well as other relevant info about them fairly early. And this is something that makes Wind Breaker stand out, which I like a lot.

Sakura is mysterious, but I think that's part of the fun! It makes us curious about him, makes us want to learn more! Though I also understand that knowing so little might make it harder to connect with Sakura. It's fun thinking about how he's made his way to Makochi, about where his parents are. He's clearly not got a lot of money at his disposal, if the state of his apartment is anything to go by. But he also owns a phone? Based on how little he's used it (He has no apps, is bad at texting, only has a single contact on his phone), I'd assume someone else got it for him.

If I were to guess, I'd assume he's got the same cold treatment from his parents as he has from the rest of the world. Though a guess is the best I can do on that front.

There is a lack of parents in Wind Breaker though, except like Umemiya's dead ones and Sugishita's absent ones.

The lack of police is an interesting point though! This is also something that I can only make theories and guesses about. The police likely aren't active in Makochi, or if they are, they aren't helpful at all. This post also mentions the lack of police! It's a mix of headcanons and predictions, but I agree with the idea that the police might've left the town after the fights got too out of control.

The lack of police is also why teams like Bofurin and the Roppo Ichiza are left to defend sections of the town. I wouldn't say it's bad worldbuilding, as it shows why there is a need for Bofurin in the first place. The lack of police explains why these kids are defending the town, because nobody else is there to do it for them.

As for the world feeling empty? I don't agree with that. The character backstories, the relationships, the extra pages showing us the menus and layouts of different locations all make the world not feel as dull. The different teams all have their own clothing styles, their own territory and values! It all makes Makochi feel like an interesting location!

I don't think the antagonists are lame, but that's subjective. Endo and Takiishi are some of my favorite characters, the Noroshi in are interesting and I think Keel and Gravel were interesting too! But again, that is purely subjective, something I find interesting might not be interesting to you!

As for Endo and Takiishi getting off too easy? I think that's likely rooted in how Bofurin works. They don't really do the whole "punishment" thing. Hiragi says Bofurin is defensive, not offensive when Sakura asks about getting rid of other teams before they can stir up trouble. Umemiya ends the conflict with Shishitoren by declaring them friends and leaves Choji and Togame to clean up their own mess. And when they tell Sakura they'll accept any punishment he sees fit, he leaves it at telling them to change and not be so lame next time. With Bofurin, losing the fight is already considered punishment enough. They don't stick around to inflict any punishment beyond just the fight on those who have harmed the town.

The whole situation with Endo and Takiishi is also a little more complicated than just giving Takiishi a fun birthday! I'd love to get into that sometime as well!

I'm happy to keep the conversation going! Tell me what you think of what I've said here! I'm also curious on if you have other characters you enjoy other than Sakura! ^_^

[shaolin-spin-doctor]

not sure if this is a hot take but. imo. Fire God Liu Kang kinda sucks and it's the worst direction NRS could've taken his character in tbh

[crossbackpoke-check]

find a blorbo (nhl tag game)

RULES: Go through the roster of each NHL team and find at least one player that you can root for.

tagged by @bondedpairs!! when i say too many teams to count and here for the narrative um. i may not have lied. this is not an extensive list of my blorbos but in order to make it not ten thousand years long i made up the rule that i had to do it straight from memory :)

anaheim ducks: as evidenced by recent events i DO like mason mctavish and trevor zegras but i have to honor laura and mention troy terry and beloved goalie gibbie*

boston bruins: oh for sure brad marchand… can i say patrice? one of the charlies got traded but i think mcavoy is still there because gryz is gone, brandon carlo is there still i think

buffalo sabres: cozens & thompson, owen power, rasmus dahlin, ukko pekka luukkonen

calgary flames: is chris tanev still here? is markstrom still here?? noah hanifin?? as a last resort i’ll say blasty

carolina hurricanes: aho & jarvy & teuvo teravainen & brent burns is still playing maybe? i know sepe got traded

chicago hockey: the bedsy narrative is compelling but ANDREAS ATHANASIOU MY BELOVED reunited with tyler bertuzzi… that’s the real story. also i like foligno

colorado avalanche: gabe landeskog, whatever ross colton & miles wood have going on, natemac + jo, mikko

columbus blue jackets: have long been on the merzlikins train, have been swayed to the darkside of umich boys (brindley, kent johnson, fantilli, blankenburg who is now on nsh)

dallas stars: seggy! mush! roope + miro and otter and robo and wyjo (rip ty dellandrea) and harls! etc.

detroit red wings: MOST players. dilly larks, moritz seider, jv, raymond, rasmussen, kitty, lyon, etc except for k*ne

edmonton oilers: mcdrai, ofc. nugent-hopkins, nursey, rip vinny & skinny

florida panthers: tkachuk, reinhardt, sasha barkov, verhaeghe (is there still?)

los angeles kings: adrian kempe… kevin fiala… danault… quinton byfield & alex turcotte

minnesota wild: kirill, marat, fleury, brodes, fabes, boldy, moose, middsy, spurge… god’s perfect idiots

montreal canadiens: going out on a limb here to say martin st. louis but also xhekaj (both), slafkovský, suzuki, my austrian reinbacher, yes fine cole caufield

nashville predators: MOST BEAUTIFUL D PAIR IN THE WORLD GRADY SKJEI AND ROMAN JOSI!! juuse, evangelista, isn’t stamkos there and also someone else who absolutely should not be

new jersey devils: nico… tuna (tatar), dawson mercer, siegenthaler, dougie hamilton, yes the hugheses whatever

new york islanders: barzy, zeeker & marty, anders lee, noah dobson lol

new york rangers: mika & chris, lafrenière & k’andre, shesterkin

philadelphia flyers: frosty & beezer and tk and sanny and the new baby michkov and coots and scooty loots and foerster etc etc. you know the Guys

pittsburgh penguins: the two headed monster but also compelled by rutger mcgroarty, and kevin hayes was there!!!

ottawa senators: timmy stü & brady! josh norris! the evolution of shane pinto! ullmark now and brännström and claude giroux and chabot

san jose sharks: ekky, thrun, mario, borde, logan couture, shakir, that other vaguely blond rookie

seattle kraken: brandon tanev, andre burakovsky! grubauer & d’accord also

st. louis blues: jordan kyrou, nathan walker (is still there?), rob thomas? is parayako still there?

tampa bay lightning: hedman, point, they dumped so many guys after the cup run… is kucherov still there or is he in nashville?? anthony cirelli (notable for being made out with by pat maroon)

toronto maple leafs: mitch, jt, willy, alex nylander, kniesy, dewar, et

utah hockey: crouse, keller, tuba

vancouver canucks: quinn, brock, petey, jt, garly, höggy, i want to say dakota johnson, elias lindholm?

vegas golden knights: brandon montour is here now… alex pietrangelo, so sorry to one i can’t remember who loves the lions it will come back to me

washington capitals: full of love and stupidity. oshie, nicke/ovi, pierre-luc dubois, dowd, vrána, milano

winnipeg jets: adam lowry!! josh morissey and kc and morgan barron, also vladdy my beloved

tagging @stillfertile + @colap1nto + @songsandswords + @moregraceful if they haven’t done it yet, i know they follow at least a couple teams. if anybody else wants to play i love adopting blorbos!!

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have a big google doc thing where I keep track of media and stuff (putting everything in loosely ranked categories), which is mostly just for my own reference so I know what tv shows I've already seen before, etc. and I never really look back through it, typically just a quick "okay, watched two movie in the past 8 months, need to quickly slap them somewhere in the lists. okay. done. save document. exit". But today I was actually reading through some of the old notes and there are like... MULTIPLE places where my comment is basically "It would have been good if it were about elves" or "I wish there was a fantasy show made in this same style" or "It's well made, but I just keep thinking about how I would like it more if everyone was an elf or was in old 1700s costumes" or etc like...... lol.... Most biased media ranking system on earth blatantly made by someone with an extremely hyperspecific range of narrow interests. It'd be like if a food reviewer only had 5 foods they actually liked, so they'd just go to a pizza place and be like "eh, the pizza was okay, but I just think it would be better if it was cereal instead. :/ ...2 out of 10"

[soll-amca]

Do you have any Alessi headcanons for someone desperate ?🫣 Too shy to come off anon to ask ..

uHHHHHHHH MAYHAps :) Thank you for the ask! I’ve been dying to write for awhile :) !

I legit don’t know what I have and haven’t posted yet since I haven’t been on tumblr for a hot minute but uhhh uhhhhhhhh. There’s lore-dumps near the top, but it gets better near the end I promise

Obligatory song for my headcanon posts. There’s no specific reason for this song, it’s just a banger, and I’m also trying to be very normal about Walid Toufic and not put his music for every single Alessi post

Alessi’s of Lebanese-Armenian descent, but extremely estranged from his Armenian roots due to internal family issues — mostly his father facing scorn from his intolerant side of the family for marrying an Armenian woman. Despite this, Alessi was very close with his mother and, even as a grown man, regrets not learning more from her. Of course, he’s never going to admit this, no matter how obvious it may be that he tries to pick up parts of the Armenian language and culture 

Alessi was born in Beirut, Lebanon in 1951, but was eventually forced out due to a civil war in 1975. Though, what gave him the final push to leave was a falling out with his siblings. With both their parents gone, his sister going off to a loveless marriage, and his brother wanting to join the war effort, Alessi loses control of Sethan during a confrontation and turns them into children. This ends up as a strange, happy accident as he would try keeping up the charade for a few days, exploiting their memory being reverted to fake a “happy family” in an effort to keep the last remnants of his old life from slipping away 

Things end horribly for Alessi as his siblings eventually find out and oust him from the home they all grew up in. With nothing left for him, he leaves and dedicates himself to mercenary work throughout the Middle East and Northern Africa to keep himself afloat

With fourteen years under his belt by SDC, Alessi’s considered one of the best in the region. And since he’s well-traveled, he’s proficient in a majority of the Arabic dialects, so nine times out of ten, nothing got past him in Dio’s mansion regardless of where the other assassins were from

The joke is that most Arabs don’t understand North Africans, but everyone can understand Egyptians, so whenever Alessi wants to phase out of a conversation, he’ll slowly change to to a dialect that’s “further out” and difficult to understand despite Levantine being his first

Since French is a secondary language in Lebanon, much more prevalent during Alessi’s time in schooling, and especially North Africa for mercenary work. He knows enough to get around like the basics, but can’t read or write for shit. His little brother was easily more fluent than him, so he has a weird sort of resentment yet fondness for the language. Whatever French he knew definitely came back when he was chasing around Polnareff in the Sethan arc

Very, very curly hair, but he doesn’t take care of it. Back as a kid, when he had his mom, she would help him and he was basically a puff-ball, but as an adult, he doesn’t have the slightest clue on how to style it while also maintaining his hair. If you catch him when he just wakes up, or immediately after a shower, it’s seemingly perfect but then he’ll proceed to douse himself in a can of hairspray 

The gun he uses in SDC isn’t his, it’s his late brother’s. But going into that right now on why and how he even got it should be it’s entirely own post so —

Any endearment at all related to babe/baby will have him throwing up in his mouth. It’s one thing to mention a child, it’s another to somehow relate it back to HIM. Honestly, Alessi doesn’t read as a “habibi” person to me, he’s too bitter to be a “habibi” person. Albi and eini come much more easily to him as petnames to call someone

He’s a sucker for trashy American television. He used to think he was above it, but now if you leave him alone for long enough, he’ll put on TLC and binge whatever’s on. Although back home, he had a thing for spaghetti westerns even if they were horribly dubbed in Arabic

Adding to the Western trend, he was super into Lucky Luke comics as a kid. Since they were really popular in the Middle East, and the translated ones were produced in Egypt. It’s definitely not a stretch that during the 80s and SDC, his grown, mercenary ass sat down to watch cartoons of his favorite cowboy. Would Alessi hog the mansion’s TV to watch Lucky Luke? Perchance. Would he stay cooped up in his Luxor hotel room to watch it? Also perchance

Tintin was popular, too, but I think I need an outside opinion on that. If a Tintin person could come back to me about this please help

Hol Horse fascinates him. Not in an admiration sort of way, but a “holyshit a real cowboy” sort of way. To Alessi, it’s like Hol crawled out of his family television and old comic books

I don’t know who it was, but I want to say back in like,, 2016ish one of the original Dio’s Fuckhouse blogs had a headcanon that Hol was actually from New England or something, but basically nowhere near “the Wild West” or even the South. So the image of Alessi being interested and asking him stuff while Hol Horse is just,, sweating bullets because he’s not a “real cowboy” is hilarious to me

Because of what happened with his sister, Alessi’s very standoffish when it comes to love. He’ll take any chance he can get to mock touchy couples and heckle anyone that he thinks is getting “too intimate” in public, but I think we all know he’s compensating for something

But the moment someone touches him or is very direct about making a move, he flusters and doesn’t know what to do with himself. Cheesy pick-up lines will only embarrass him and he can’t tell whether or not you’re making fun of him

Having gone through wide extremities of emotions when he was younger, and then having to suppress them all as a mercenary, Alessi wouldn’t understand sensitivities. Especially since he’d have to adopt a pragmaticism in his line of work to keep himself alive — and arguably sane. He’d get confused over someone being upset over an inconvenience that isn’t “up to par” to what he went through, but at the same time fly off the handle at small things happening to him since he bottles up all his emotions

If someone cries around him, he falls into the routine of having this initial frustration, stuffing it down to not make things worse, and eventually follow through with a weird shoulder pat — sorta like “there, there”. After that, he’s clueless

[tittysuckersworld]

yknow what? im gonna say it. dazai should crossdress as a girl on a few missions at least. its constantly chuuya having to crossdress, but i think since dazai is such a pretty boy he could defedently pull it off. theres also a lot of cute modest outfits for girls so i bet he would look great. im gonna bring this apon everyone as well because ive been non stop thinking of it-

[trevanent]

I think one thing I will say about the finale was that the most problematic aspect of the concept of the show was how it feels like they had to use the Fionna and Cake plot to Trojan horse a resolution to a swathe of loose ends Simon and Betty's arcs had. They pulled it off even better than I ever wanted to let myself hope for for the most part but I would say my main issue if anything was how cramped the finale felt when I think they could have left a lot more up to season 2 speculations (especially with the resolutions for the alt universes, they didn't really feel necessary when they basically just had to egg Scarab).

I feel I liked the understated melancholies of seeing Simon recontextualized and kinda infantilized in that temporary form hosting his mind, and some people have said the Casper and Nova thing felt hamfisted but I thought the vibes were too cute to care that it wasn't particularly "efficient" as far as metaphors go, but that does slow down the pace which probably crunched the ending a little harder :'). But it also worked in further showing the sad side-effect of the crown on Simon's relationships, including that of stunting his ability to have ever matured in his understandings of love and his relationship with Betty. I also think their last scene in the memory worked because it was Simon reconsidering how he viewed their relationship for the first time, even if his attempt to do for Betty what she did for him would have just been an inversion of their original flaw, the scene rests on them understanding it's unchangeable anyway, so that decision doesn't matter so much and it's not something for Simon to dwell on.

I also feel I liked the scene a lot in spite of how scarce it felt in the finale was because of what was most conspicuously unaddressed, which was just the sheer logistical impossibility of any different choices they made having possibly been any "better." It sticks out because Betty says they could have made better choices, which kinda seems to situate their relationship in a vacuum as if there wasn't a very high likelihood had they done anything different at that crossroads, they would have just been literally nuked into orbit regardless. Sure, it seems like enough time had passed for them to have worked out their relationship better at least and then died, but that kinda seems better by an arbitrarily less tragic amount, and really it seems the least tragic possibilities ever were either that they conceive their relationship more healthily, Simon finds the crown and protects Betty from exploding somehow and also doesn't warp her to the future, and they live some terrible survival life but at least they get a chance to live something kinda fulfilling and Betty probably would have taken care of Ice King decently for the remainder of her life once Simon was gone while also having a better understanding of what had happened to him. The only other hand would be that she also was still warped to the future he finds the crown but Simon had not enabled her self-sacrificial tendencies and so she becomes less undividedly obsessed with saving him and instead integrates into Ooo more properly and also accepts what had become of him (I find it hard to think she would have just let him die either way though lmao).

That all said, they had been around a long time to have reflected over everything. I think it is a bit of an issue that they don't really allude to that, but I find it easy to believe that they did recognize how thwarted a happy ending would ever be for them by all angles of their reality, yet they still had that tender ache of that simple and small tragedy just between them two that still exists within the torrent of catastrophe that engulfed them and the breadth of their fate. So much horror in their lives but they reconnect and find themselves primarily concerned with that last regret of not having been able to make the ideal relationship they quite thought they had.

[cak31ssuperi04]

Throwing my hat in the relationship chart ring. 1bit/beat charts credit to @//likesaly and @///silvercrane14, if this bothers either of you please let me know so I can delete it!

1bit relationship spaghetti breakdown:

Platonic

Romantic

Familial

Negative

[roaringroa]

i’m not crazy for shopping but there is a very confidence building feeling when i find something in my style that fits me 

[arolesbianism]

*experiences potential ~symptoms~* Hm. Let's not think abt that too hard (<- guy who is always obsessing over everything that's ever happened to them ever (<- no one tell them))