#and having something only he can do for someone makes him feel like he's important to them

[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.”

[revelboo]

Greetings, could we please get more of "My Favorite Accident"?

I really love this fanfic!!!

Sure!

My Favorite Accident Pt 6

TFP Knockout x Reader

• “You’re scaring off the business.” Scowling at you as you wash glasses, you just arch your brows at him. And yeah, he has a point with that look. The guy that had been hurling in a bush when you’d arrived had wandered inside and fell asleep, head on the bar, his toupee long since in the floor, looking like a dead squirrel. And he’s the only holdout, your two other drunks having wandered back home. Or at least somewhere else. For all you know, they’re passed out outside in the gravel, but as long as they’re outside, they’re not your problem.

• “I keep waiting for you to explain the joke,” he mutters, his patience slowly fraying watching you go about your ‘job.’ Because at this point, he’s more angry than anything else. And this has to be a joke, one that’s already run far too long. It’s insulting that you work here. Part of him wanted to just leave you here to figure out your own way home, but he’d stayed out of morbid curiosity and because, after defending you from being groped three times, he’d realized you’re too oblivious to survive without someone watching over you. Feeling someone pinging him, he growls.

• “Bills are no joke,” you say, banging a glass on the bar hard enough that the remaining patron nearly falls off his stool when he startles awake. “Last call.” Tone all saccharine sweetness as he blearily looks around and then struggles to get down and get to the door, legs spread like a man trying to keep his footing on a heaving deck in rough waters. He’s definitely going to go water those poor, dead azaleas again, chunky style. “So, mind explaining why you camped at my home and then stayed here all day? I’m assuming you have some important, secret alien robot agenda. You know, something better to do than slum it with me?”

• “You have no idea,” he grumbles, hesitating as that ping comes again. Dividing his attention between the holomatter avatar and his real body, he hears your disgruntled ‘are you kidding me right now’ as the avatar gets glitchy. And half listening to your tantrum, he answers the ping. “Where are you? Megatron’s hunting for you,” Breakdown’s voice growls at him and he shifts on his shocks. Because if the big boss is on the warpath and needs something, he can’t be kept waiting. Or he’ll take it out on his hide with his big fists.

• Watching him have a conversation with himself, that weird, expressionless avatar staring with dead eyes at nothing. Creepy. Still can’t figure out why he’d hung out with you when he really must have better things to do. You don’t think it’s that he’s lonely. Only that he’s decided you need him to watch after you, though how he’d reached that conclusion, you’re not sure. You’ve done fine on your own for years. You’ll be fine after he gets bored of messing with you.

• “Stall,” he says. “I’m coming.” Aware that he and the avatar are both saying the words when you lean away from him, frowning and he ends the communication. “Sorry, but you’re going to have to find a different ride home. Try not to die while I’m gone,” he adds, glancing around to make sure there’s only the two of you in the bar before letting go of the avatar, hearing you screech about security cameras before he goes. You’ll be fine. After he pacifies Lord Megatron, he can come back. Make sure.

Previous

[vonlycaonwife]

Lycaon relationship hcs

Omg I went off on this, this was supposed to be for someone’s request but then I accidentally went completely self indulgent. So this will be made into its own post!

Warnings: nsfw (under the cut), knotting, bdsm

Honestly seeing Lycaon in a relationship is like seeing fireflies in the night. It's so whimsical and almost magical, even if it is reality and down to earth.

He's just so sweet and romantic, a lot of the time not meaning to! Like he just naturally would do these little things that make your heart melt.

Though in the beginning he definitely was nervous, not so much to the point of it being obvious to a stranger. But the rest of the members definitely had fun seeing him overthink his actions.

These three would definitely be asked a lot of questions, mainly Rina though since she would have better advice (debatable) than Corin or Ellen.

But! Once the relationship has been through the first couple of months everything is pretty smooth sailing.

He doesn't really question what to do, mainly because he would communicate with you very clearly and often to make sure everything is alright and he's not overstepping.

If his partner isn't a thiren I can imagine him fearing about potentially overstepping because of the possible habits thirens have when in relationships.

One I feel is them being a bit more territorial, though how it's shown is dependent on each person. For Lycaon I feel that for him it's very subtle, like making sure his scent is on you. I can't see him getting aggressive publicly unless someone was making his partner uncomfortable.

Another thiren custom I highly feel is a thing is partners grooming each other. Since it's a common thing amongst animals for bonding, thirens most likely have that instinct as well. So I can see him insistenting on brushing your hair and maybe doing your makeup if you wear any. And he wouldn't really complain about you returning the favor, you would definitely see his tail wagging as you brush his fur.

Also! Another important thing you see more commonly than others is definitely him using more casual prosthetics than the ones we see usually see him. While they would be cyber enhancements as well, they wouldn't have the same modifications as his work ones. I can't imagine him letting just anyone see him use those, so you would be very special to him to see him using those.

Do I have to even mention that he's like the best when it comes to taking care of a sick partner? THIS MAN-

While I don’t believe he would call out of work for a simple cold, he would already have everything prepared for you. Like medicine beside your bed along with a warm meal in the microwave (to keep warm).

But if it's worse than that you can guarantee that he's staying around to make sure you recover at a speedy pace.

Nsfw under the cut

Okay but it's very obvious Lycaon restrains himself a lot to put on a more sophisticated approach.

So when to sex with him you really would have to show him how much you trust him to let him fully relax and not hold himself back during the act.

Even then I don't think he would want to do things roughly that often, maybe only when he's really stressed and needs to release it. Though if that were to be the case there is always a safe word.

As a thiren I do believe he potentially goes through a rut, but it's not really something that happened often until he met you. And even then he most likely prefers to not undergo that since he would lose control of himself.

But! That doesn't mean I don't think he's kinky, I definitely believe he is.

I can see him having a small bdsm thing, but it's only surface level. He mainly would only ever bring these into the bedroom once he knows there's a great amount of trust between you two.

He very much gives soft dom vibes, but it's also obvious that he also has the potential to be a mean dom. I mean come on they're clearly hinting at him being a bit sadistic, even if surface level.

Also I have to say this, he definitely has a knot. (YOU CANNOT STOP ME I AM A FURRY BITCH *ahem* anyway-) But in order for that to ever come into play he would prepare for several weeks, since I can't imagine him not having a big dick and putting a knot on that sounds painful. 

But also I feel like he would only ever do penetrative sex if he's very confident about spending the rest of his life with his partner. Since wolves do have a habit of mating for life.

So it would take awhile to get to that point, and even longer once he's agreed to it since again, prepping you could take a bit.

Another thing I feel I should bring up is him potentially keeping his prosthetics on during sex. It would be the casual ones I've spoken about, but I think he wouldn't take them off for extra leverage and also comfortability (as I feel like in zzz they're most likely advanced enough in tech to where they're pretty comfortable to wear a lot).

Though on the off chance he doesn't have them on you would more likely than not ride him.

Actually speaking on positions, he's definitely a missionary or mating press guy. Maybe would do stuff from behind if he's bending you over a counter or desk. 

Though that would only happen when at home, since I highly doubt he would want anyone to walk in on him while in the act.

[bbybhr]

What i enjoy

Summary:just old man logan finding comfort in an ordinary day with you and Laura...simply enjoying loving you

Warning: none really,

Tag: angst , comfort , domestic life

Oldman!logan who came home after a normal day at work, nothing out of ordinary the only remarkable thing about today was the cold weather but he got used to that so there's no mentioning it...after all he was two hundred years old and he learned what to expect from winter when he was a little boy,he's not thrilled about it though,he despise cold like a lot of other things

He puts the key into the keyhole and the click sound echoes in his heart...he loves to return home, one of the few things that he enjoys

He knocks of his dirty shoes and leans to pickup his "slippers" which you bought for him and Laura to match yours, of course he showed his protest by grunting and telling you "his way too old for this" or "what even is the purpose of this things?" But he secretly loves them...the feeling of having something on him that belongs to your soft little world, the feeling of reassurance that if someone sees you and him together it wouldn't be like he's some horror movies character that got into a frame of an animation about sugar and honey and bunny and yada yada...but it would be like a happy little family,so slippers also are some of the few things he enjoys

As he slowly approaches the living room he hears you and Laura giggling, he stops at the foyer looking at you two and the thick blanket you got on yourselves, he can not wait to get under that too, to hold you both close to him,to feels his two heart that aren't inside of his body but are far more important, he rather claw at his own chest and take that clock machine out than seeing you two sad or even at the very least a little discomfort, and yes he loves to be a part of that cuddle blanket city of his two princess but he also loves watching you laughing and stuffing your faces with popcorn...so he waits, waiting between two of his favourite activities is also one of the few things he enjoys

He takes the warm air of the house in his lounges with a deep breath,there's a delicious smell of food that you made and you and Laura agreed to don't touch it until logan comes home from work,he can feel his stomach turn in hunger for something other than his cheap liquor,for something that doesn't burn his throat but nourishes his stomach and heart at the same time...coming home to a warm meal is again one of the few thing he enjoys

He feels the warmth of the house cuddle his weary bones and body...His shoulders slowly tens down and he can feel a small smile on his face before pushing himself from the foyer and making his way towards the couch

"I'm watching you two for at least thirty minutes now, what if I was an intruder?do you have any survival sense?"

You and Laura jump from the surprise...it's the safety that a home and family brings after all,that's the reason Laura isn't as alert as she used to and logan doesn't feel upset about this, it brings out the fact that you two (and anyone else in the area) are sure that no one dares to disturb the safety and stillness of THE WOLVERINE'S House and he enjoys the reminder of the safety that his protection brings

It's after the dinner when Laura and you fell asleep in his arms while watching a fairytale bullshit, he closes his eyes and the golden light of the house shuts up before them,he can stay like this forever,he thinks...having his whole beautiful family is another thing he absolutely enjoys

but he knows you'll feel sore tomorrow you don't have the strong regenerate power as him and Laura, so he slowly gets up,with a delicacy and thoughtfulness he never thought he had in him so he wouldn't wake you two up,he turned off the TV before scooping up Laura and carrying her to her room and laying the puffy blanket on her (being a father is one of the things he never thought he would enjoy but now he can not figure out that how would life be without laura) than he makes his way to the living room again, he kneels beside the couch like a surrounded soldier and slowly Brings his hand to your face and brushes a strand of your hair with the tip of his finger like he's touching something sacred,he won't move his hand afterwards from your face just caressing your cheek at a gradual peace, how delicate, he thinks, how could you trust him with yourself, how could someone this fragile trust herself with a war machine...with a weapon...touching you with his blood stained hand is also one of his favourite thing to do

He picks you up in his arms without moving his gaze from your face like not looking at you even for a second it's a waste of time,beside he memorised the path to your room a long time ago so there's no point to look away anyway,

To know every path that ends to you is also one of the things he enjoy

He lays you on your bed with so much care like you would break if he doesn't treat you like a butterfly with fractured wings,he climbs on and lay behind you,one hand under his head so he could look at all of you with one glance,like a hunter looking at it's prey like he's sizing you up for his next meal,after a moment he wrap his other hand around your waist to pull you closer as if you're not close enough, never close enough actually, he wanted you under his skin if he could! he takes a deep breath in your hair and felt that familiar rush in his veins (that got to him since he got home) grow stronger,one more breath and his breath became shaky and his vision of the top of your hair became blurry,another inhale and he's taking shallow and rapid breath yet he's trying for dear life to be quiet, taking your scents one more time and he felt his cheeks became wet and something in his throat brook...that wall that he felt stronger in the moment of weakness,that brick fucking wall that made his breath hitch when he was alone when he didn't have you nor Laura, that very same wall that he tried every day to drink away...Well how do you know...looks like his chatter box doll with those beautiful eyes was the cure all the time...

"Where were you..."

He said under his breath more like how breeze whispers in the ear of a petal while passing by and he closed his eyes to surprisingly no nightmare...no feeling trapped...just the scent of your hair and your quiet little breath

There's few things that he finds interesting...lesser things he finds enjoyable...but they're all about you!

[cognitiveoverload]

Basic human decency – 1/4 (platonic Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader)

summary: You're the surgeon who operated Hotch, and you're annoyed that he immediately starts working after waking up.

masterlist

“I hoped you would be knocked out a little longer,” you say with a playful smile as you enter his room, stopping at the foot of his bed. He stops typing and raises an eyebrow in question, which makes you shake your head in disapprovement. “Dr. Young warned me that you’re a workaholic, but I didn’t think you would be working so soon after a surgery.”

Hotchner let out a sigh and put down the phone to focus on this conversation. “It’s important. I can’t just lie here and do nothing,” he replies.

Nodding, you put the chart on the bed next to his feet, then move a little closer to him. “Look, you need to rest. When you were brought in, things didn’t seem serious, so no one talked to you about this, but due to that complication, and after such a serious surgery, I’d rather see you taking it easy for now,” you explain with a kind smile.

All it takes is one look to know a lot about him. You heard that he’s working for the FBI, it’s clear that he’s a born leader, but that mixed with a stubborn attitude can be dangerous in hospitals. As a doctor, you give instructions to patients, expecting them to do as you say, but people like him often ignore these orders. If it was up to you, you would take away every device that can help him work, but you have no right to do that. 

The best you can do now is try to reason with him. Well, seeing the doubtful expression on his face, you’d probably have a better chance convincing a brick wall.

“I’m just making a few phone calls,” he tries with a smile.

“Work calls?” For a few moments, he watches you with a blank expression, but then it all changes and suddenly he looks like a kid who was caught doing something wrong. “You have a son, right?”

He nods in response. “Jack. He’s six,” he replies, sounding a little unsure. “Why?”

Your attention is drawn to the door where a nurse waves at you, so you quickly signal her that you’ll be there in a moment, then return your attention to the patient. “It’s the summer break, right? Why don’t you ask someone to bring him here? You would have the chance to spend more time with him, and you wouldn’t spend that time working. It’s a win-win to me,” you offer with a laugh.

There’s a strange gleam in his brown eyes as he considers your idea. While he thinks about this, you go to pick up his chart, then flash one last smile at him before telling him to rest and that you’ll be back soon. You even dare to jokingly threaten him that you would confiscate his phone, to which he replies with a silent nod of understanding. But there’s something under the surface, something that just doesn’t click into place, yet you can’t figure out what it could be. 

Shaking off this feeling, you leave the room and get lost in work again. After checking on a few patients, you have another small surgery, which manages to take your mind off this for now. In fact, the rest of your shift passes without thinking about the agent again, but then, about half an hour before you can finally leave, you find yourself at the nurses’ station across his room. You don’t notice it at first, only when Dr. Young stops next to you with a teasing grin on his face. 

When you ask him what it’s all about, he just shrugs and points at the room with his pen. “Well, well, well, young lady, you are officially a miracle worker. According to my sources he stopped working after you left,” he explains with a kind smile as he looks at you. 

You follow the pen and notice that Hotchner isn’t alone, there is a young boy sitting on the edge of his bed, while a few people are standing around it, deep in a conversation. Something tells you they’re his colleagues, partly because you can see one of them carrying a weapon, but they are all smiling and laughing, it’s surely not work-related. So he did listen to you. Good. That’s exactly what you wanted. 

“Let’s hope it stays this way until he’s discharged,” you note quietly, but while you want to say something else, the words don’t come out. Because through the window you can see him turn to you, as if he could sense you are standing there, watching him, and you could swear he flashes a thankful smile at you. And then you jump from the surprise, because Lisa, one of the nurses, holds up an envelope in front of your face. “What’s this?” 

She shrugs with a teasing smile, then bumps her shoulder into yours as she hands it to you. “Oh, just a message I was asked to give to you. And it came with that bouquet of flowers. No big deal,” she says happily. 

As you open it, you watch as she and Dr. Young leave your side, giving you space to read the card. It’s a gift from Hotchner, and he used this way to thank you for making him understand that he can allow himself to retreat and recover instead of jumping back into work, possibly stressing himself out because of it. That’s all. It’s just a short message, but it’s surely one of those small things that make your job a hundred times better. 

As you look back at him, you see him watching you again, so you raise the card and nod in his way, to which he responds with a smile. And this catches his colleagues' attention, because they all turn to you suddenly, which makes you flee the scene before they could find you to ask questions. Maybe it’s time to go home now. But first, you scribble a short thank you message on a piece of paper, and ask a nearby nurse to give it to him once he’s alone again. There are no questions, but you can see the knowing grin on his lips that make you roll your eyes. 

This isn’t flirting.

This is basic human decency.

[guppybibi]

Pairing: Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x fem!reader

Synopsis: It was love at first sight, but Kyle will be nothing more but someone's right-hand man. It's alright though, he'll have his heart learn how to stop loving you.

Content: not proofread, alcohol mentions, one-sided love, fast-paced,,,

Notes: This took a while to finish huhu, Kyle will probably be ooc since this is my 1st time writing a fic for him! Honestly I'm not too sure if it fits the theme 😔😔 i kept postponing this bcus i didnt wanna write smth sad during xmas

Love is Doomed Masterlist !

If bliss was a human, Kyle believed it would be you. You were just a pinch away from being perfect, God’s favorite creation, as Kyle would describe you. Everyone just snickered at the sight of a big, strong soldier like him, acting like a lovesick puppy who just got his aching heart stolen away and locked up in a dungeon.

He yearned for you more than anything and firmly believed that no one can know you like he does. No one at all can love you like he does.

The only problem was that you were after another, your world kept spinning even in Kyle’s absence. He never mentioned anything about it, fake chuckles coming out of him as you chirped about the so-called man of your dreams. It made his ears ring and practically bleed, eyes twitching as he nodded for what seemed to be the hundredth time today.

He had never been introduced to this mystery man before, it wasn't any of his business so he kept it to himself. Though he wasn't going to lie, curiosity has been bubbling up inside of him and threatens to spill as the days go by.

He shouldn't be jealous, he doesn't have the right to be.

But doesn't he have the right to be concerned when you hand him an invitation to your wedding? He thinks you're moving far too fast! Faster than he can reach, you're progressing too quickly, not allowing him to even catch his breath.

Everything slips through his fingers quicker than he could've ever imagined, the moment his hand touches the elegantly designed invitation, he's suddenly at the wedding itself.

He's losing you, the longer he lets his feelings linger the more you get farther away. And he can't do anything about it.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.” The officiant states, glancing over to the crowd. Kyle swears he has never wanted to say the words ‘I object’ more than ever in his life.

Yet in that moment, no words came out of his mouth. He just stood there in silence as other guests clapped joyfully, proud of the huge step in life you took. As the two of you kissed, Kyle felt like he was going to puke right then and there, maybe even right on the red carpet walkway.

You two were going to be together forever, and that word didn't sit right on Kyle’s tongue.

It's been months since your wedding and it's also been months since Kyle has spoken to you. Your attempts of reaching out to him have been deemed useless, with him not even bothering to acknowledge your messages. You haven't found the time to personally meet him face to face either.

He's probably just on an important mission. You told yourself, not wanting to assume that something bad has happened to him.

Kyle's strong, whatever he's going through right now, he’ll make out of. He promised. And Kyle has always been a man of his word, you can always count on him.

Together forever, you promised, you and Kyle’s pinky fingers interlocking together. It's stupid that Kyle’s mind automatically assumed that you meant it romantically, it's not your fault. It's his fault that he fell in love, such a stupid man he is. You never saw him in that light.

“You’ve drank, haven't you?” Price asks, his arms crossed with a mildly displeased look on his face. As if he wasn't on his 2nd pint of beer right now. “You’re not normally this aloof.” It's not like Kyle was putting in much effort into hiding it, but he does wish that his captain didn't point it out so bluntly..

Price sighs when Kyle doesn't respond, he forgot; Kyle’s a quiet drunk. Oh unless Soap is here, then that's a completely different story. “You’ve been refusing every mission given to you, mate. Don't tell me it's about your best friend..”

Kyle shook his head, but the look in his eyes told the opposite. It was embarrassing to admit that a strong and courageous sergeant like him was down over something so ‘little’ like unrequited love.

Psh..he's better than that, right? He should be better than that.

“It's nothing, I’ll get over it.” Kyle waves it off dismissively, but Price was having none of it. “And you'll get over it when, mate? In 3-5 business years?” The sarcasm in his voice seeped into Kyle’s veins like venom, mainly because he knew that he was right.

He couldn't sulk forever, or else he’ll get left behind. The world would keep spinning no matter what he does, even if he had the strength of a thousand gods, the world still wouldn't stop.

All he prays is that maybe next time, Cupid will hit the both of you.

[susiekern]

7. the one with a challenge

a/n: I've been fighting with tumblr for TWO DAMN DAYS to post it, so I really hope you enjoy

warnings: swearing, suggestive ig

word count: 1.227

lyrics from: The Apparition & Jaws - Sleep Token

masterlist

“No way.”

“Way.”

The face that Megumi makes rips a laugh from you. It was your classic evening meeting, but since the weather was tragic for the past few days, you’ve ditched the rooftop, settling in your room instead. Lying on your bed with a couple of snacks and a respectful distance between you, you’ve spent the last hour catching up. With how busy Megumi was in the past few weeks, your talks were usually short, and there were fewer of them. Somehow you only now told him about the DM from Zenin, but the amount of strength it took not to scream about it as soon as he stepped into your apartment? You deserve a medal.

“Maybe it’s some sort of ‘be kind to your lamest fan’ charity event. You know, like make a wish.” He says, and you flip him off.

“Maybe I’m just cool as fuck and someone finally appreciates that?” You counter.

“Nah, I’d bet on the charity.” Fushiguro laughs a little when you groan and shove a pillow towards him. For a moment you close your eyes and enjoy the peaceful atmosphere, something you lacked in the past days. Working on a new collaboration, streaming, and maintaining your life at the same time was a bit tiring and mostly overwhelming. That’s why you appreciate the calm evening more than usual. You and Megumi talking about the events of this week, the room illuminated just by the fairy lights, music playing in the background from your PC… it’s nice and relaxing. Very much needed for probably both of you. Mr. Guitarist was close to being done with recording the songs for his job, so he stopped spending almost every waking hour of the day in the studio. You can clearly see that he’s tired, but when you commented on it, he shrugged and said it was more important for him to create something he’d be proud of than sleep for healthy 8 hours.

“What’s with the aggression?” Sudden question silences the thoughts in your head, but you keep your eyes closed still.

“What do you mean, aggression?”

“That’s the fourth time you hit me with a pillow. I got two kicks to my shins and a mean fist in the arm.” He counts all of your attacks, and you peer at him.

“I’ll never believe that this fist hurt you in the slightest. For someone who barely eats and locks himself in the studio, your biceps are crazy. But okay, I suppose I’m a bit more aggressive than usual.” Megumi looks shocked, although you’re not sure if that’s because of your aggression or how easily you’ve admitted it. “It’s been a busy week, and I have a bit too much energy. And I haven’t gotten my normal dose of annoying you and Yuji.”

“Damn, first of all, I still train even when I’m working, thank you very much. And second... I don’t even know how to comment on that. You should just punch Yuji, not someone who spends time with you, and bring snacks.” With that statement, he lies back, with his arms behind his head. It’s not weird that you looked at his flexed muscles and a sliver of abs revealed by his shirt rolling up, right? God, this man is fine. Does he have to be so fine?

“Yuji just whines when I do that, though. You flex. Easy choice.” You sigh and close your eyes again, pretending like it was just a normal thing. Yes, you both sometimes threw a flirty comment here and there, never directly referring to your night together, but it was a little different.

When you were on the rooftop, it gave you the freedom of saying shit in an open space. Here, in your room, you are almost painfully aware of how close he is lying. You can feel the heat from his body and smell his perfume. And you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t doing things to you. But Megumi is no better. You’ve noticed how he eyed you up after coming, taking in your shorts, simple t-shirt, and messy hair. Or how his eyes lingered on your face for a little longer than they should.

“So, you like what you see, huh?” He turns on his side, leaning his head on one hand, his elbow keeping him up. If your eyes were open, you would see how his own trace your body, ending their path on your lips. He just needs to lean forward a little… “That makes sense, I’m the hot neighbor after all.”

“Huh?” That brings you to open your eyes and look at him with shock. Only now do you realize that the snack barrier between you two did close to nothing, given how close his face is to yours. And you do not miss how his gaze moves from your lips, but after another second or two. It’s a dangerous game, but neither of you seemed to care.

“I’ve seen your stream. Well, a part of it. How did you put it? ‘I can’t say he’s bad-looking." You’re blushing at this point. You had no idea he watched any of it, especially since he saw how you answered a question about him.

“Don’t let it get to your head. I was just entertaining the chat.” He smirks, knowing very well that’s a lie, and leans a little closer. Your heart seems to be beating to the rhythm of the Fallen song that’s playing in the background, your eyes peeking at his lips on their own.

‘And I'm not here to be

The saviour you long for’

“Sure.” His voice goes down to a whisper. The seconds go by, and you seem to be frozen, both calculating how bad it would be to take the next step.

“Megumi…” You’re whispering too, hypnotized by how intense his gaze is. You want to tell him you shouldn’t. You really do. But the amount of time you’ve spent thinking about him, about his kisses and touch, keeps you from doing it. Would it really be that bad? Doing this one more time?

“Tell me you don’t want it.” There’s a hint of a challenge in how he says it. And since when are you one to hide from a challenge?

You’re the one to kiss him first this time. His reaction is immediate; the hand that was lying on the mattress cups your cheek as Megumi tastes your lips, and you need to hold back a moan. How much you’ve missed that feeling. His touch is gentle, yet reassuring, when he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. He moves to hover over your body, holding his weight on one arm.

‘Show me those pretty white jaws

Show me where the delicate stops’

“Fuck. I’ve wanted to do that ever since you stepped on that damn roof.” Whispering, he lowers his lips down to your jaw and neck, and your hands now move to his sides and back.

“You should’ve.” You whisper back. You don’t need to see his face to know he has that irritating smirk on, you can feel it on your skin. His hands make their way under your shirt, and he pulls himself from kissing your neck to look in your eyes. “Just one more time?”

“One more time.”

‘Show me what wounds you've got

Show me love’

tag list (lmk if you wanna be added!): @nytylie @fresa-luna @syrooo @zaranobiyuyu @jvpit3rr @pandabiene5115

[ranticore]

thinking about characters fursonas is always more fun to me than directly anthro-ifying them because it's not just a question of "what animal would they be" since before you can even ask that you have to figure out how they would pick a fursona, and i almost feel like that says more about a character than what animal they choose.

like. would they want an animal that represents their ideal self? something that represents how they see themself to be currently? and how well does that perception match up with these actual reality? or would they pick based on something less complicated like "favorite animal"/"movie character they liked”.

all that leadup to ask, how do you think your mvf guys would pick their fursonas?

💯💯💯 literally it's one of the most fun characterisation exercises you can do, it tells you SO much about them, how they view themselves, what they want others to think of them and so on. all that good stuff. and then you get to delve into furry subcultures, influential artists etc

so on to the actual fursoneys themselves

Jean-Baptiste - aforementioned hummingbird with a suit from idk clockworkcreature or something. the subculture/art style is realistic but very humanised, basically a bird head on a feathery human body, no wing-hands, with a Georgian style of dress (potentially with steampunk elements) and named after a famous scientist from the period. He would not be an artist, but he would be one of those ppl who's a bigtime engineer making huge money who invests heavily in commissions of art (usually traditional media like oils, colouring pencil, etc) and writing about this character, who is a kind of inventor/old-timey scientist with a highly detailed backstory and canon setting. He chose the hummingbird because it's beautiful, precise, and tenacious, and also just because he likes the 'rare fursona species' aura. He has VERY strong negative view on poodling (when someone wears a partial fursuit with their skin showing) and has been posting to the same old rp forum for the past 20 years. Rude and bitchy but one of those guys who always pays well and tips for commissions because money is no object. an important part of the economy

Bowman - exactly the opposite to everything above. His fursona is a retriever-ish dog called Dog or Mutt or something with a single-colour palette and the art style is new school big toothy grin etc. fursona exclusively wears board shorts. He draws at a beginner level and he's obviously having a blast with it. The muscles are very detailed (so's the bulge) & the art is clearly bara influenced, especially around the eyes. He wouldn't have any interest in suiting i don't think but you will find him at the furry rave in a neoprene harness. He wouldn't have much money to commission with and his twitter feed would be mostly reposts of other people's art (without permission)

Islin - ok you know that one genre of art style used exclusively by dragon furries where it's got realistic scale textures, backgrounds, and the ref sheets are usually incredibly detailed and the dragons in their anthro forms are always absurdly ripped. He can draw this, i know it in my heart. The design is pretty generic western dragon, all things considered, I don't think he has the imagination for more (sorry). Character's name is something appropriately fantasy-ish like Xyrgoryx. He could definitely take commissions as a side hustle but as a perfectionist and professional worrier it would overwhelm him easily. You would probably not find him at a convention at all, I'd say such spaces do not appeal to him. He's been on Furcadia tho.

Félix - generic twinky fox in a thin-lines washboard abs disney-inspired art style with an absurdly deep backstory which we never get to see because the character is only ever drawn being railed. He can draw but more importantly he knows how to take the commissioner's money and run, delete his account, and remake under a different username. Was able to afford a fullsuit from Made Fur You and that alone gave him enough clout to continually avoid allegations of past misbehaviour. Every so often someone goes "hey isn't that a known scammer" when they see him at a con but it never sticks. Later he would get cancelled immediately for saying he "didn't care about" right-wing furries as long as their art was cute.

Senca - Almost certainly a feline-based original species or hybrid. The art style is very goldenwolf with spiritual/neopagan influences, mostly traditional media and ACEOs in oil pastel so it's got a kind of smudgy look. Her character has the same name as her and she considers it a 'truesona' of sorts. She's an established artist and well-respected but struggles to keep up with what Tha Youth are doing and her personal website has looked the same since the year 2006. She has a realistic partial suit but doesn't wear it much anymore, preferring to vend at the dealer's den instead. She always knows way too much gossip about any given person you could point out to her but she insists she isn't involved in what she'll delicately & vaguely refer to as 'drama'.

Léa - she was attracted by the promise of easy entry into a supportive and friendly readymade community and bought an expensive Closed Species design to be her fursona. She tried to participate in events but instead got sucked into a cesspit of petty warfare between her CS community and a very similar CS with design elements that may have been inspired by hers (after all, 'dog with kinda long pointy ears and a big fluffy tail' is VERY copyrightable). She goes along with it, afraid of losing her space in the panopticon discord community by voicing a dissenting opinion and it'll eat her up from the inside. until one day she wakes up and realises she paid €400 to gossip and participate in a group that bans you from adding horns to your fursona's head (a legendary trait restricted to the CS owner and their favourite sycophants) whose main form of bonding ritual seems to be reposting their enemies' art to mock it and colour-pick to prove the palettes were copied. She explains all this to Bowman in one big tearful rant on their first offline date at Eurofurence and he helps her get away from that community.

Helena - that was her copyrighted closed species. and she IS litigious about it.

Erica - it's a pine marten in a modern sketchy "just got an ipad and procreate" style, really cute, fun design, good coordinating outfit, honestly ticks all the boxes but then 5 days after he posts that awesome themed ref sheet he's got a brand NEW fursona and this time it's a cute lil jackdaw, again lovely design all around looks great but wait no in 5 days time it's a roe deer, no wait it's an otter, it's a gecko, it's a

Pascal - a sick as hell cartoony golden eagle with an electric guitar and sunglasses and you can imagine it airbrushed onto the side of a campervan because that's where it lives. he's strictly offline, doesn't know what a furry is, never been on twitter, but he is 100% certain in his heart that this bird is a true representation of himself

[futuremrscameron]

academic rival pogue!reader

content warnings: micro aggressions, child endangerment (obx plot), past drug use, rivals to lovers, light misogyny

academic rivals with pope. she’s one of the few people that can really piss him off.

on an academic scholarship at kildare academy and gets harassed for it

“you know it’s really just charity they’re doing letting you come here. they need at least one pogue to make them look diverse.”

bethany leans against her locker across the hallway glancing over every so often barely trying to be subtle about who

“wow that’s a big word for you. you learn that on sesame street?”

“bitch.”

“see you later bethany.”

she and pope push each other to be better and keep each other on their toes. she helps him out with clues from the pogues’ treasure hunts before she knows what’s going on

“i mean what else could it mean.”

“did you never take english lit? the curtains are blue for a reason pope.”

“oh that’s so helpful thank you for your input.”

“did you try looking in a

the only girl in a house full of boys (her father and twin brother)

pope’s complete opposite in every way but academically, she parties, smokes, drinks, and on occasion does coke

“yo rafe!”

“matilda.”

“fuck off.”

“ooh that’s no way to talk to someone that wants something from me.”

hates that pope uses his intelligence to help the pogues with their schemes, she sees it as a waste and thinks he should invest all his brain power into his academics

she definitely fell first. didn’t know how to handle her feelings so she was nicer to him and he was a little scared. why was his rival suddenly being nice to him?

he realized he liked her after she hugged him when he returned to outer banks in s3

“for a genius you sure act like an idiot. do you know how many assignments you missed? don’t scare me like that again asshole.”

“you were worried?”

“no shit heyward.”

“do you like me?”

“wasn’t it obvious?”

gathers homework for pope when he’s absent and drops it off

“i brought your homework.”

“isn’t kildare county high an hour away from kook academy?”

“just take it heyward.”

pope doesn’t realize she likes him until she tells him how much she missed him during his time on poguelandia

study dates at each other’s house that usually turns into making out

the heywards love her, think she’s a good influence on pope unlike his hooligan friends (little do they know)

academic rival!pogue helps pope study for his GED and apply to colleges in and out of state

she’s worried that pope won’t want her when she tells him she’s not a virgin

does not get along with jj but knows how important they both are to him so she would never make him choose

graduates top of her class at kildare county academy

loves cleo. she thinks jj is scum and the other pogues are idiots but cleo? she’s an angel. she’s a thief? who cares. she’s killed people? good for her. she truly believes cleo can do no wrong and might have a tiny crush on her

worries about long distance dating when she goes to brown but is reassured by pope constantly keeping in touch whether it be through phone calls, texts, or actual handwritten letters

very possessive but pope finds it hot

could’ve solved half of the pogues’ problems if they came to her

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I always repeat it but I truly love the way you write Leona ☹️ you portray not only his personality but also his inner thoughts and how he processes information around him so well... I love all your writings but specially your Leona related works (sorry for being very much biased)

I hold your Leona interpretation so close to my heart 🤲💛 I often see a lot of mischaracterization (and I kind of get it- he's hard to decipher sometimes), so seeing such a good portrayal that I feel encapsulates his whole being is so important to me ☹️☹️

[Not sure if this is feedback in response to a particular writing piece I did, but just in case, this Leona interaction was the most recent one before receiving this ask.]

cbjddbwkkeoqhd Thank you!! I try to do the same thing Yana did when first conceptualizing the Twst characters… I try to put myself in their shoes and wonder what it must be like to be them in a given situation. The example Yana provided in one interview was something along the lines of, The poison apple didn’t want to be poisonous, but the Evil Queen forced it to. How did that make the apple feel? I want to think about not only how someone would speak, but also about their body language, their thoughts, their emotions, previous interactions in similar scenarios, their life experiences, their goals, their strengths and their flaws, how those can color their perception of others and the world--everything that makes up a character! I also aim to make my dialogue distinguishable, even if there's no name attached to it. If you can swap out several other character's names and the dialogue still works, then the intended character's voice isn't coming through strong enough and I rewrite it from scratch. If I write "You've earned my brother's respect," that's not good enough for me. It has to be “Oh, would you look at that. You’ve gone and earned my dear onii-sama’s respect and admiration. How good for you," to properly convey Leona's sarcasm and haughtiness.

The Twst characters are all very complex and multifaceted (particularly those we're given the most detailed backstories about *stares at the OB boys*), and there's also tons of content to comb through between the all the characters, main story, vignettes, events, and additional materials (interviews, art books, mangas, light novel, etc.). As a result, it can be easy to overlook elements of a particular character or to simplify/condense characters--either making them the extreme of being too cruel or the other extreme of being too kind--to make them easier to write. It takes time to nail that characterization, so I encourage my fellow writers to keep trying ^^

To speak a little more about writing Leona! It's honestly hard because you have to balance his arrogance with his lack of motivation and his depression-like beliefs about himself without whiplashing between those components. He's also very intelligent, and those kinds of characters can be difficult to do, especially for inexperienced writers. Leona works in subtle ways to get what he wants, and you have to find a way to communicate that between himself and the reader, but not give away what he's scheming to the other characters involved, who are not in his headspace. Then, of course, there's that whole ongoing debate about whether Leona would treat women significantly "better" than men (which is a topic worthy of a whole separate discussion post; I won't get into that here since it would elongate this post by a ton)... There's several things to consider when writing him. If you enjoy my interpretation of Leona, then that makes me happy ^^ I genuinely do put forth a lot of effort to capture the characters in my writing, so it's nice when those efforts are recognized.

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 35

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Grian's pov*

You are still not allowed to go out as Cuteguy. You don't get why you have to wait so long to start doing hero stuff, was what happened at that inauguration thing really that bad? You doubt it.

Scar tried to cheer you up which was... weirdly sweet? Luckily for everyone you still have a few other ways to pass the time and won't get bored for a while...

...You go out as a Poultryman as soon as you can... what can you say? There is only so much staying still and being nice that you can take. Jumping roof to roof, stopping crime, It's just so refreshing.

You look down to the streets and see an hint of fire...oh! That's Flame! First time you have seen another vigilante around... thinking about it, it makes sense considering how big of a city it is...still, weird considering how many times you have stumbled on both heroes and villains by going out like this.

You open your wings and gently glide down to the ground...before snapping them close and dropping next to him.

"Hello there Flame!"

"Oh! Poultryman right? Didn't expect you to be here for this.''

"That's me! So, what's going on?"

"Oh, you don't know? There is a group of guys robbificating the mall like right now."

. . .

Rob...bificating? Wait, mall? Again? Why is this mall coming back so soon? You didn't think it had enough relevance to be robbed.

"The mall?"

"Yep, are you in for some ass kicking?"

Well, you know the mall is not yours but after yesterday It feels personal for some reason. Also kicking ass is always fun.

"Of course I'm in!"

And like that he just starts going,doesn't even wait for you... Mean. Of course you keep up though since you can fly but still, unappreciated.

You are at the infamous mall and- Ohhhhh right, the mall has a jewlery store, you were kinda wondering why someone would want to rob a clothes store or... figurine store at gun point. That does explain a lot actually.

As soon as you land they start shooting at you, are all mortals so trigger happy? If you were alone you would just take the bullets head on but all these guys are watching you and Flame is here and you aren't going to reveal your divinity to him like this...so you wave your hand when nobody is looking and their gun happen to suddenly stop working at that exact time... so weird and lucky for you.

Flame looks to you.

"Their guns are jammed, this is the best shot we have"

"Don't need to tell me twice!"

You jump on them, they shreak as you do...you hear Flame snort behind you as you land on them and push them to the floor, by the raising temperature you can tell he's joined in as well...you two do make a pretty good team it seems, something to keep in mind.

As the sirens approach and you begin to leave Flame stops you, silently he gives you a card with an address and a time written on it. Huh. Before you can ask about it he waves and leaves... You don't fly after him and he gets away. You are going to have to check this out aren't you? Fun! You are interested by what this could possibly lead to, you hope It's something fun...like arson! He even has the perfect power for it, it would be such a waste otherwise...

Oh well, no time to think about that now! You still have other stuff to do right now... not before trowing a few eggs behind you though, you are not forgetting that, It's very important to your branding.

You read the card a while after. The 26th? It's the same day as the movie marathon... Funny how life can be, huh?

[chiarrara]

i can't write so im trying to figure out how megumi and yuuji meet the first time in the vampmegau and i saw that mosh pit post where the guy thought dude was gonna spit in his mouth and honestly that's as good a setting as any

[freakinator]

If you don’t mind, I’m gonna yap for a second.. I think another problem with Kab is how sudden the turn around was. Like in the first convo where Kab was acting “evil”, Zam fought back with the argument that she’s wasn’t really evil at all and I think he did believe that at least a little. And if Kab slowly began to turn her path around then he would be a bit more trusting cause he would have SEEN her actual emotional growth but the turn around was so fast, it feels like there was no emotional growth at all and that Kab is still the same as before, cause she basically is. She still wants Mane dead no matter the cost and she’s still, intentionally or not, trying to manipulate Zam, but she wants to be treated as if she’s had that whole long term emotional growth

yeah ii think this is where her majority experience with short-term smps really bit her in the ass, i think there are two main directions that other ppl take it tho: 1. is as what you speculate in that some ppl think that she hasnt had genuine growth and hasnt changed at all and 2. that she genuinely changes too quickly and is therefore unreliable regardless of if shes being honest or not

i think the reason zam was so receptive to her in silent scream was cause this has been a recurrent plot point for a couple streams now, kab trespassing zams base to yap while zam tries to decipher her wants and motivations until eventually she just let it all out and in that instance i think he did genuinely believed that she changed even if it was slowly/just a little bit

....but then die for you happened lol

ssee the thing about kab is that shes shes all-or-nothing, going from one extreme to the next after just a little bit of change in character which can be jarring to some ppl to say the least (unless you thought she was lying and therefore any character development shouldnt be believed i suppose) but is something that was a great asset in shorter and arena-based smps where you had to get as much advantage against your opponent as possible without having to worry about the long-term consequences of these actions ie them not trusting you while still having to interact often in mundane ways even after messing with them. while she Can be swayed this only really works with things she was already unsure of which while a great motivator and trait to keep her on track with her goals (again another great trait for short-term smps), can be really jarring and distressing for other ppl if the things she was absolutely sure about goes against their own perspective like for example her thinking that derapchu killing her constitutes zam getting payback for her as the protector of the server (The protector, not A protector like zam insists, The protector of the server)

i think shes far too used to the fast-paced instant acceptance of changed personality in arena smps that is a natural consequence of them being short-term and having a revolving door of members and teams which is why she expects ppl to accept her growth and efforts so quickly even if realistically nobody would hand over their trust that easily esp after essentially being harassed in their own home multiple times, like even in normal smps where theres a baseline amount of trust ppl still wouldnt trust you after doing that, what more in a server like lifesteal where general trust is low basically all the time?

[quietwingsinthesky]

the amount of time i spend thinking about Even carrying the metacrisis doctor’s fob watch is really quite disproportionate to how much ive fleshed out that part of the story in my head

[hecksupremechips]

Fucked up how happy I get whenever I make content of Shinjiro Aragaki being actually loved and getting to heal and learning to love the little things in life and getting to express himself. What’s up with that

[anotheruntitledsong]

i did like the hidden palace but (SPOILER if anyone hasn't read it?) i'm genuinely so annoyed at how Arbeely is handled like... I wish i could be sad but i'm just fucking irritated. I was overly invested in him and that's def why but i just feel like they did him dirty