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LINKTOBER DAY 20: ZORA WELLSPRING
Sidon plays packhorse. Link and Zelda play with electricity and water. Everybody leaves happy except for the fried aerocuda.
(Something’s in the water temple.)
This is a self indulgent totk au called Familiar Familiar where link and zelda travel through upheaval hyrule! Masterpost can be found here:
Patreon here too, if you wanna feed me a slice of bread like a duck
#art#critdraws#lonks diary#familiar familiar au#loz#zelda#link#botw#totk#totk au#botw au#legend of zelda#tears of the kingdom#breath of the wild#sidon#prince sidon#aerocuda#mucktorok#botw link#botw zelda#botw sidon#totk sidon#totk link#totk zelda#look the mucktorok is a genuinely fascinating weird little guy#i may hate that boss fight but its pochita esque pulsating heart thing is COOL okay#anyways the weird gravity thing happens too i just couldnt fit it into the script#((also yes!! those r yonas gifts from the last comic being put in use. everybody say ty yona)#i am never designing architecture ever again get ready for milktoast for the next to regions#loz comic
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c!George and c!Dream have a bond that lets them feel each other's emotions. It is not a fix-it solution.
~
There is a bitter ember is George’s resonance with Dream. There has been for a while. It started as a small thing, back when Tommy first joined the server. But it grew and grew, until it was a bonfire that George could feel in the center of his chest, winding out from his lungs and strangling his throat like the thorns of a creeping rose.
Dream never named it, but George could guess. It was obvious, from the way it might flicker and wane but always, always flared up again whenever George tried to rely on him these days. First when Tommy burned down his house. And again, when the Badlands attempted their assassination. It’s been an acrid coating on his tongue, worse than brewing potions with spider eyes, since Technoblade… well, since Technoblade.
(George isn’t jealous about him. Isn’t jealous of the way Dream had been excited when Technoblade first arrived on the server, and admiration clicked and fizzed like redstone, even as the bitterness swallowed his appetite and choked at his breath).
The ember has grown into a proper inferno now, like the constant hissing of lava roaring in his ears. It’s hard to hear what Quackity is saying, but the resonance is winding tighter about him because Dream is coming. Dream is coming, and today George is going to demand answers.
-
“Just say you hate me.”
-
Sapnap is dragging George away, away to Mexican L’Manberg. There’s enough lava to drown the whole Nether, a conflagration that could swallow the whole server is burning him from the inside out and he is gasping around the feeling of thorns tearing him apart from the inside. Is this what it feels to swallow a wither rose?
“I don’t—how could he do that? George, let’s go. George—shit, George!”
Sapnap is there. His hands are on George’s arms. George can’t feel it through the armor. Just a bit of pressure as his whole world shakes apart around him. It’s painful, and George can’t breathe. The world is in and out and he can barely make out that they are out of the castle. There are grass blocks underfoot and no walls to lean on.
“C’mon, breathe with me. In one, two, three, four—” Sapnap’s voice curled about his ears, rhythmic and worried. It helped, a little. Gave George enough stability to sooth his own reactions until he could manage something more than panting sobs.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Shut up, George. Keep breathing.”
“I’m fine. What is this?”
Sapnap’s hands squeezed, keeping George from pulling away. He looked worried, the corners of his eyes crinkled and uncharacteristically soft. “It’s a panic attack, George.” The corners of his mouth dragged down. “Of course the first one you’ve had was caused by Dream.”
“No? It’s not my panic attack?” The pain ebbed as the heat did. It didn’t quite die back down to an ember, but the bitterness receded into something more sour, as the roses in George’s throat wilting into something easier to breathe around.
“Really?” Ugh. Sapnap made a face, and George made a face right back. “Okay, sure. Let’s just get to Mexican L’Manberg.” He turned away, but kept one hand tight around George’s wrist to pull him along.
“You are ridiculous,” George told his back, pretending that the sun wasn’t drying his cheeks into a sticky mess. He used his free hand to rub at his goggles. He tugged at the tangle of emotions in the resonance, feeling it spool out as they got farther away from Dream.
Whatever. It didn’t matter that the wilting had turned into the same soupy-bog in his lungs as when Sapnap killed Spirit. George didn’t care about the return of the almost-pneumonia of grief that settled like a fever and made Dream uninterested in the world for days or even taking care of himself. Maybe Dream would feel George’s fury like a fire in turn, and come apologize to bank it.
Tomorrow, probably, because he was so busy with Eret today. Tomorrow, George could get his answers. Demand what Dream was even thinking, and why he was even being this dumb when it made all this wrongness curl about him like a miasma and twist the emotional bleed into something dark.
Dream didn’t come home that night. Or the next. Tomorrow stretched on into the taught, painful pull of a distant resonance, like barbed wire strung between their hearts.
#dsmp#dsmp au#c!Dream#c!George#c!dnf#DSMP Blade System AU#just because you can feel each other's emotions#doesn't mean you understand what you're feeling#communication is important in relationships#but this is DSMP where everybody is allergic to talking about or explaining their true feelings until everything is ready to explode#technically part of a larger AU that has been eating my brain for a week#but it's an okay stand-alone so I figured I'd post it#I've finally got inspiration to write#but this is the first thing I've written for this fandom so forgive me if the character voices are a bit weird
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okay deeply unpopular opinion time. dogs. are gross. frankly it's unhinged that in our society it's normal to have an animal that for no reason runs around your house, gets hair on everything, smells bad, throws up on the floor, jumps on people, massively restricts the flexibility of your schedule, and goes to the bathroom in your yard which you then have to PICK UP with gloves and baggies. dogs are incredible animals that can be very smart and endearing but they need to have jobs, not just exist in your 500sq ft apartment to bark at and jump on your guests. "haha sorry he's just so excited to see people!!" no. he's just totally untrained and its not CUTE why do you think it's CUTE. *drops something while cooking* "haha its fine the dog will get it :)" susan. why is it ok that an animal is going to lick food of the ground. you know that doesn't make the floor clean, right. susan. SUSAN,
#grace for ts#spreads arms out wide... im ready. cancel me#i never express this opinion in real life because people love their dogs and i get it. i always pet peoples dogs and talk nicely to them#i dont have to share everybodys feelings about everything#but it does make me feel COMPLETELY C R A Z Y that people dont see this as a difference of opinion#they see it as something that makes me a sadistic sociopath with no capacity for love#like??? okay sorry i dont like dogs that doesnt make me h*tler#'MY dog doesnt smell and hardly sheds!' ok good for you (i dont believe you)#'MY dog is very well trained!!!' ok (i dont believe you)#working dogs on the other hand are AWESOME
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One thing I hate most about enduring the scars of abuse is that I just... never trusted that something as fundamental as love and care could exist in a pure state, unadulterated by fear and isolation. It felt like every little aspect of humanity twisted into itself until all I could recognize was this cold, unfeeling mass of horror. You pick up the pieces and have to learn how to step back into the waters of love, and it's so damn scary, yet people look at you with this look that says, "how dare you be suspicious of love?"
I just want others to know that it's not easy to recover - it never really is, is it? People expect that you'll accept love right away, that you won't be afraid of positivity. But that's unrealistic and unreasonable and unfair. People who are in this stage of recovery aren't selfish, nor are we trying to insult the love the world has for us. We are wounded, and we are trying to protect ourselves, and yes, it might seem counterproductive, but please realize that this might be the only way we know how to survive right now. And to the person reading this who may be going through this: I'm proud of you. If you cannot run head-first into recovery, you may walk, or crawl, or claw your way into it, you may scream and sob and laugh. There is no right answer to recovery.
#recovery#abuse#abuse tw#inspired by a post i read elsewhere that broke me a bit#and the reason i resonated with it were completely different but it still... i felt that same way for years and i never could notice it#everybody expects you to bounce back from trauma but... the trauma has personally disabled me and has warped me for years#and yes i am trying to recover but this has taken most of my *life* to do#and i wish more people recognized the effort it takes. some people aren't ready for this huge commitment and that is OKAY#if you aren't ready to recover or you are recovering slowly: you are welcomed here. it's okay. you aren't judged. this shit is hard as fuck#i admire the courage it takes for you to be here now. i adore the brief moments our spaceships have passed by
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Sometimes I see things pop up in tags or on tiktok and man I will never understand what drives folks to push Purity Culture vs Irredeemability on flawed and problematic characters in the Flawed and Problematic Characters Learn To Do Better As A Primary Story Mechanic fandom
#There are no helpless meow meows to defend here everybody’s fucking up all the time it’s the main running gag of the whole series#Why are so many people so ready to love a complex villain but a complex hero is against the law unless he’s an Edgy Antihero#Good people can make bad and selfish choices and still be good people it’s okay.#Nobody’s asking you to take the blorbo out back and shoot him over an unflattering piece of lore#Having unflattering lore is the backbone of the entire series#It’s the thing almost every single character has in common#It’s what makes characters and their relationship dynamics with the other characters interesting and human#Because unflattering lore is something most actual human people have in common too!!!
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alsooooo catch me deleting this post later but i will say!! i really appreciate those who just simply like posts. you don’t even have to comment — though i thoroughly enjoy when you do — but even just liking a post let’s me know i’m not rambling into an empty room. someone sees me and enjoys what i’m talking about. it makes a huge difference with my comfort level with another person. so if you’re ever wondering how to take a lil step towards interactions, that’s it! just like my posts. i yap so much more easily if i think you’re already happy to listen
#okay now i actually will get ready for bed#banning myself from posting till my head doesn’t feel all silly#goodnight everybody 💜#get ready to ramble | ooc#tbd
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it’s about to be june everybody :)
#ladrien#ladrienjune#ladrien june#wip wednesday#well. here we are again. i think im going to let the plot of this one be a surprise simply because i have no idea how to describe it#and i haven’t even thought of a title yet. june is (technically - it’s one in the morning here) TOMORROW😭😭😭#ive only prewritten two chapters and i have a vague outline of an incredibly complex plot. a typical peachcitt ladrien june ig#anyway. get ready for the vibe of a lifetime#been really into the idea of just writing a fuck all whatever vibe for fun lately. just really being confusing with it#and i think this fic will be a hard launch into my new era of self indulgence#also so far both prewritten chapters are around 1000 words which.#maybe they partly needed to be because of how i need to do setting building as fuck while also sticking with the prompts#but i think a big thing is i cannot physically shut the fuck up and i am worried about how that bodes for the rest of the month#but it’s been a couple years of this. the only way to survive a ladrien june is c’est la vie it the whole time and then it’s fine#im gonna post a bigger sneak peek to my kofi tomorrow (may 31) so keep an eye out if interested!!#okay anyway that’s enough rambling. goodnight everybody happy ladrien june eve eve
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Chapter 55 of Tower of Dawn😭
#HOW DOES SHE ALWAYS DO THIS TO ME AT SOME POINT IN THE LAST QUARTER (12 CHAPTERS)#literally always at the point of weeping giggling gasping or screaming like every other chapter every time I finish one of SJMs books#my soul#fangirl problems#all the feels#Tower of Dawn#severely underrated book that though it makes sense timeline wise for EoS tandem it honestly reminds me more of HoF#Chaol Westfall#Yrene Towers#Nesryn Faliq#Sartaq#I love them all so much#okay yall what are the ship names#also the lil Rowaelin moments#and I was right about Lys#and finally they gave notice to everybody on the Maeve thing so word can get around#but oh my word YOUR TELLING ME THATS WHO AELINS WITH OH HELL NOOOOOOO#and soon their gonna learn that and it’s gonna be EoS ending all over again#honestly dying to know what happens but dreading the end of another fantastic story#Chapter 55#SJM#TOG series#KoA I am not ready but I’m almost there#first read#currently reading#reading reacts#no spoilers please#okay time to go read the last 10 chapters#*sobbing* it’s so beautiful#screaming in Wyvern or should I say Ruk
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#tw: death#tw: trauma#...........................................................................................................................................#............................#........................................................#...................#..............................................#.....................................................#it's all nice and dandy and you've moved on with your life and learned to live with it. until there's a death scare.#and you think to yourself 'I gotta check in with x later to make sure they're okay and offer emotional support if needed'#except that it immediately forms a massive pit in your stomach cus the one time you thought that your emotional support was worth fuck all#when he was the one dead and you attended the same fucking funeral. just as broken as everybody else.#how am I literally ever supposed to stay rational and not fear the worst again#when the one fucking time I genuinely thought it would be okay and I could help it fucking wasn't#I'm fucking scared that if I ever again genuinely trust that things are okay the universe will bend backwards to make sure I regret it#I cant not fear the worst because when I didn't. it happened. so I need to be mindful. I need to expect it. prepare for it.#and maybe as long as I'm ready for it. it wont happen again.
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I want to talk soon unimportant but specific details about my life but what if someone I know from real life is here 😳
#i am in closet in many many things in my life and when i try to open up about this things its never goes well#my public diary can be read by everybody i dont know but some certain who matters to me and i know well can't#its not even homophobia or something just i am different in real life and i am not ready to live freely#even when if people can accept me its hard to break safe rules my body gives physically bad reaction to it#like they are okay i am okay no more hiding no more masks and bamm incredible amount of guilt and shame#and then i become sick for no reason#can delete later#n.#waow i found this in my drafts future is crazy i am out now and it was terrible#fineish now tho
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terrible things are happening all the time but I think it's really important to love everybody anyway. I really do think that. You have to try to love as much as possible and you have to try to love as hard as you are able and you can't stop doing it. You can't let people take that from you
#mousetalk#this does not mean romantic love if that was obvious. you do not need romantic feelings for the general public.#but god things are so bad all the time it is so easy to stop caring it is so easy to decide none of this is worth it but it is i swear it is#you have to love everybody man. empathy is your greatest weapon and kindness is stronger than anything else and#im not saying this in a preachy ''solve your issues with peace not violence'' way because i would never say that violence is useless#there are so many circumstances where violence is entirely nescessary and i would never blame somebody for that#but its so so easy to get lost in that anger dude it is so easy to be sad and bitter and angry you cant let it happen#you have to remember there is always something worth loving. anything. theres always something left#the love is never gone#you can pick it back up whenever you are ready. its never too late to care again ok#sorry this is such a stupid post ive just been so upset lately. this works as a reminder to myself and anybody who reads it i guess#just dont get lost in it all okay
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Day 12. Monster-kinktober: Hybrid + Omegaverse/Anonymous Sex
A/N: Thanks to @teratophilexfor the brainstorming of this one! The anonymous part is questionable here, and ended up being a bit softer than expected. Enjoy!
Were-bear x fem!reader || breeding, heat, cum inflation, marking
When you start feeling the burning sensation of your heat hitting your body, you are in the worst place possible. You went out with your friends to your usual bar, nothing major, not that many people around… But way too many alphas and betas ready to take a vulnerable omega about to be horny as fuck. You start feeling your knees going weak and heat pooling in your lower abdomen, and you just know you can’t get out of there fast enough. You try to make your way to the bathroom, maybe if you close yourself there nobody will notice and you could escape when people leave.
But you aren’t that lucky.
As you walk to the bathroom, everyone in your paths turns around, your friends look at you scandalized and scared, all of them other omegas that have zero chance of helping you in that moment. You try to go faster, but your legs are trembling as you feel slick drenching your panties. Some werewolf grunts when you pass by and your scent hits him. Some other monsters growl, and by the time you are at the bathroom door, you can hear feet pounding on the ground as they follow you.
You have enough time to close yourself in a tiny stall when the first wave of heat hits you, and fear covers your scent as you listen to all the growls and grunts of all the monsters in the bar trying to get to you. You know the stall has a strong enough door, monster-proofed, but it still won’t be enough if all of them try to get to you at once. You are shivering on the toilet, your fear mixing with anxiety as another wave of heat hits you, when you hear the only voice that could calm you no matter what.
“OUT! EVERYBODY OUT!” He roars to all the monsters trying to get to you. You don’t know what he did, but not three seconds later you can hear everyone leaving the bathroom. Only your tiny whimpers and a labored breathing can be heard inside the stall where you caged yourself.
You see a hand over the stall door first. It’s a big hand with long claws and veins all over the back of it. You don’t know if it’s the heat talking or you are just hyper-aware of everything, but even his hand looks sexy. You fold into yourself when another wave hits in response to his presence. When he peeks over the stall, you whimper, his giant body and cute ears making you groan with need.
“Oh, honey… Wait here for a second, I’ll come back for you, okay?” You whimper, another wave hitting you and making you double over yourself. He coos at you and exits the bathroom. You hear some commotion outside and he comes back two seconds later. “Let’s get you out of this tiny bathroom,” he tells you, pulling you up and carrying you bridal style to the main area of the bar, a completely empty bar.
He puts you down and steps back. “Where’s everybody?” You ask, confused. Not even your friends are there, what the fuck?
“I kick them out. Nobody should smell my mate in heat,” he growls the last part, possessively.
But you can’t even process the rest of the words, just two resonating in your foggy brain. “Your mate?” You croak out, trying not to sound too hopeful.
“Shit, forget I said that,” he says, looking regretfully to the ground. “I- I should take you home. Or wherever you want, someplace safe.”
“Do you want me to go?” You ask back, the hope you tried to repress surging inside of you like a tidal wave. And then you don’t know if the hormones are talking or if you lost your mind completely, but you ask: “Would you… Would you be my heat-mate?”
He looks at you with eyes as big as plates, his cute round ears twitching over his head. Adorable. “You… You want that?”
“Yes,” you say simply. Maybe you lost your mind, but it’s the truth. You do what that. You do want him. You’ve wanted him since the first time you saw him, he’s the main reason you and your friends keep coming back to the bar, to see the eye-candy bar owner.
He looks so happy and joyful that this time you are the one who has to look down because it hurts to look at something so pretty. “Oh, honey, I’ve been head over heels for you since I saw you enter my bar for the first time.” He lets out in a breath, so fast you barely catch what he says.
“Really?” You ask, confused and low-key embarrassed by his admission. Have you really been that stupid that you have been lusting after him and you didn’t realize he felt the same way? “But you never…” You try, but another wave hits you and your knees go weak, your legs giving out under you. You would have fallen to the floor if it wasn’t for his big strong arms coming around your middle and keeping you upright.
“I didn’t know if you wanted me,” he let out in a whisper, pulling you up and sitting you over the counter so he could lean down and press his forehead against yours. “Do you want me, honey?” His voice is almost broken.
“Yes,” you whisper back, stretching your neck up trying to kiss him, but he’s so damn tall you can’t quite reach, fuck. “Why are you so fucking tall?” You curse as you grab him by the collar of his flannel shirt and pull him down harshly, pressing your mouth to his in a melting kiss.
He groans against his lips and you circle his waist with your legs, pressing your body to his completely. The contact makes you hyper-aware of your drenched pussy, the slick soaking your pants at that point. You were able to almost ignore the heat, but having him so close, his mouth right over yours… you can’t ignore any longer. It hits you like a cement brick in the stomach and you whimper against his lips, biting and groaning, trying to get as close as him as possible, your movements frantic as the heat inside of you consumes every single thought in your brain.
Your hand travels down his big body, squeezing his pecs and making him moan against your open mouth. You grope and touch every inch of him you can, pulling at his clothes but not focusing enough to undress him. But when your hand finds his dick, you gasp, surprised by his size.
“You are so hard…” You tell him against his lips, not able to separate yourself more than a couple millimeters from his mouth. He tastes so good, it’s intoxicating. You drive in for another pantie-melting kiss until you both are gasping for air against each other mouths. You aren’t even naked, and you already think this is the best heat you’ve ever had.
“That- that’s… because of the bone,” he whispers, embarrassment making his cheeks go pink as you grab his hair and pull. He groans, and his cute bear-ears twitch, making you want to giggle. But the urge dies rapidly when your dumb-heat brain process what he just said.
“What bone?” You ask, pulling his head to the side and attacking his neck with your lips and teeth. He groans, grinding his hips against your hand, which is around his dick.
“Were-bears have…” He stops to groan when you squeeze his shaft. “We have a bone that allows us to be hard for longer,” he explains between heavy breaths.
You are lost of words, your brain trying to process that he’s as hard as bone and he can go like that for a long time. “You are perfect for my heat,” you blurt out without thinking. You rapidly cover your mouth, as if you could swallow those words back, but there’s no use.
He’s already smirking wickedly at you, his eyebrows raising in an insinuating manner. “Am I?” He asks, teasingly.
You can’t take that look from him, your brain completely short-circuits and next thing you know you are once again devouring his mouth as your hands grab and pull at his hair with desperation. You feel your body being lifted from the counter, and he walks with his hands on your ass, climbing some stairs that you guess lead to his apartment over the bar. Convenient.
You kiss down his neck as he tries to get his keys from his pocket, holding you with only one hand and making you groan. That’s so hot. He curses when you bite down on the tendon, almost breaking the skin as you suck a big hickey right there. He curses some more when you grind your hips down over his hard as bone (pun intended) erection.
He finally opens the door and walks through like a man on a mission, closing behind him with his feet as he stomps into the next room where he puts you on a bed. You take your clothes off at the speed of light and open your legs for him to see how wet you are. He curses again, louder this time. There’s an edge of anger in his tone when he tries to open his shirt and ends up ripping it open, buttons flying everywhere as your hand finds your clit and you moan like a whore in heat (so like what you are).
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” You chant as he tries to get his boots and pants off as fast as possible, but your brain is too gone into the heat, you can’t think of anything else apart from his dick. His dick inside of you, stretching you, pounding into you, breeding you. “I need you, I need you inside, please,” you beg as he growls at you, making your whole body tingle.
You hear another ripping sound and his pants are gone, his boxers pushed down enough to let his dick out. You gasp, your fingers moving faster looking at his huge dick. You don’t know if he can even fit inside of you, but you don’t care, you just need him inside as far as possible. He walks to the bed with his boots still on and his ripped clothes hanging from his body. He looks wild and feral, and you dig it. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anyone.
He moves your hand away, making you whine, but replaces it with his hot mouth, drinking your juices like you are the fountain of eternal youth and he can’t get enough of it. Of you. He slurps around your slick center and sucks on your clit, making you come in a blink. You cry out and pull at his hair, asking for his dick without words, your brain too far gone to talk anymore. The orgasm didn’t help, it only made you more desperate, more needy. The heat keeps getting stronger and stronger and it can only be sated by his dick.
When he positions himself over you and starts pushing inside, you move your hips urging him deeper, but he growls, his teeth falling to your neck and holding you there by your mating gland. You shiver, your body going languid under him, submitting completely. He keeps pushing into you, little by little, until you are panting and he bottoms out. You scream, and he bites you, marking you forever.
The combination of his dick and his bite makes your eyes roll back into your head and a new wave of slick gush around his length. He roars and starts pounding into you like a madman. Or a mad bear. His claws transform, picking at your hips where he grabs onto you. You scream again, your human nails scratching his back as he transforms a bit more, his body getting bigger, furrier…
He pulls back a tiny fraction and back inside, making you scream as he growls over you. Soon after, he’s pounding into you with equal desperation, both of you fucking into a heat frenzy that’s maddening. And the best thing that ever happened to you. His claws on your hips add a spark of pain that drives your mind into mush, the pleasure so high you can’t hold back a scream when you came around him. More slick gushes out of you around his length still pounding into your needy hole.
And he does it again. And again.
And by the time he comes you have had at least five orgasms, but he doesn’t stop. He fucks you over and over until you can’t keep your eyes open, but you keep groaning every time he bottoms out. He comes inside of you a thousand of times, or at least it feels like it. But thanks to his special bear attributes he keeps going, and going. Filling you so much your stomach looks bloated. But you’ve never felt so good.
By the time the clock hits three in the morning, the first big wave of your heat has passed, and you are lying exhausted on him, tracing tiny circles over his hairy chest. And then something crosses your mind, your body freezing as he hums in question.
“Wait! What’s your name?” You ask, scandalized with yourself for falling into bed with a virtual stranger. He laughs so loud and hard you almost fall off his body.
#were-bear#were-bear x human#were-bear x reader#were-bear x you#monster#monster fucker#monster imagine#teratophillia#monster x human#monster x reader#terato#monster boyfriend#monster fuqqer#monster kink#monster love#monster lover#monster romance#monster smut#monster x you#monsterfucker#monsterfucking nsft#omegaverse#monstertober#kinktober#monsterkinktober
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♡ Max "If It Weren't For The Baby" Verstappen | MV1
NEFERASKINGDOM
Summary: Max and George show no signs of stopping anytime soon and poor y/n is stuck between a rock and a hard place. but soon things escalate when Max accidentally opens his big mouth.
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y/n_russell posted:
y/n_russell: Habibi come to Abu Dhabi✨
Comments:
user: SHE’S BACK, EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!! 🔥🔥🔥 user: MOTHER RETURNED TO THE GRID AND IT SHOWS. user: Abu Dhabi isn’t ready for her!! 😍 user: Not to be messy, but is that a bump or just the angle? 👀
user: Delete this before you embarrass yourself further. 🙄 user: You do realize that’s body-shaming, right? Yikes. user: Maybe it’s just the dress, maybe it’s none of our business. Either way—don’t. user: Imagine logging onto the internet just to get ratio’d in the comments. Couldn’t be me.
georgerussell63: Wow. 2 whole photo in front of Lewis’s garage? Feeling betrayed right now.
y/n_russell: omg george, do you want me to write "george is my favorite" on my forehead or something? relax. georgerussell63: I’m just saying, where’s the support? y/n_russell: maybe if your garage didn’t feel like the waiting room at a dentist’s office, I’d consider it. georgerussell63: That’s because we’re professional. y/n_russell: nah, it’s because you have the personality of unseasoned chicken. user: 💀💀💀 SHE CAME FOR HIS LIFE.
user: MAX. LIKED. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.
user: Not Max creeping in the shadows like that. George, sweetie, you seeing this? user: Netflix doesn’t even need to make a script this season. The show’s writing itself.
landonorris: MOTHER.
y/n_russell: 🔪🔪🔪 user: The knives are out. Lando, RUN.
lewishamilton: Always great to have you around. Thanks for showing up and supporting me this weekend. Much love ❤️
y/n_russell: Wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know I’m rooting for you Lew! Big things ahead 💪🏽
f1teaspill posted:
f1teaspill: Okay, F1 fans, we’ve got a hot one for you! Max Verstappen and George Russell’s sister, Y/n, were spotted on a hotel balcony together, and it’s seriously got people talking. 👀 Y/n was supposed to be at a totally different hotel with George, so why is she with Max—especially with all the drama going down between them? 🤔
Is there something going on between these two? Or is Y/n just making it clear that she’s Team Max in this ongoing feud? You know we’ll be watching this one unfold closely... 🔥
Comments:
user: Yooo, what’s going on here?! Y/n is in Max’s hotel?? 😳
user: Is this a secret relationship or is Y/n just picking sides? I need answers!! 😬
user: So Y/n's team Max now? This is messy. 👀
user: Max and Y/n are lowkey dating and no one’s telling us?! I need the receipts ASAP. 😩🔥
user: Sis really out here with Max?? I can’t believe this. George is gonna flip. 😬
user: Okay, but like... is she betraying George by cozying up with Max right now? Or is she just done with the drama? 👀
user: Nah, this can’t be real. She’s out here looking all comfy with Max while George is literally her brother?? What kind of betrayal is this? 😱
user: Is this the kind of power move we’re witnessing?? Y/n dropping George for Max?? 🤯💥
user: Ok, but lowkey, I ship them so hard. Max and Y/n would make the hottest couple. 🔥🔥
user: No, fr. Max and Y/n are EVERYTHING. They look so good together, I’m lowkey obsessed. 😍👀 user: Can we just take a minute to appreciate how they’re literally radiating chemistry? I don’t care if they’re not dating—they should be. 😩💅
user: The way she’s just chilling with Max tho... George must be somewhere crying right now. 🤣💀
f1teaspill posted:
f1teaspill: “If it weren’t for the baby.” Three words that sent the paddock and the internet into absolute mayham today after Max Verstappen dropped the bomb during an interview. 👶💣
Fans are already in detective mode, dissecting every second of this wild moment. Whose baby? Is Max a secret dad? And what does George Russell have anything to do with it?
Interview Transcript:
Journalist: Max, earlier this week George Russell referred to you as a “bully” in his recent comments. Do you have any thoughts on that?
Max: (chuckles awkwardly) Well, you know, George always has something to say. I’m not going to get into it.
Journalist: But do you think his characterization of you is fair?
Max: (sighs) Look, I’m just here to race. I’m not interested in petty drama.
Journalist: It doesn’t seem like George is letting it go anytime soon. Are you planning to address it with him directly?
Max: (visibly annoyed) I really don’t see the point in—
Journalist: But isn’t it important to clear the air, especially since the tension is so public now?
Max: (snapping) If it weren’t for the baby, I wouldn’t even bother trying to make peace with him!
(A beat of stunned silence. Max’s eyes widen in realization.)
Journalist: The… baby? What baby? Max, can you clarify—
(Max mutters something under his breath and walks off, leaving the journalist baffled.)
Comments:
user: BABY???? HELLO? MAX, EXPLAIN YOURSELF.
user: What baby, Max?! WHOSE BABY?! I haven’t been this confused since Abu Dhabi 2021.
user: Can someone please check if Max even knows what he said? He looked so panicked when he walked off.
user: “If it weren’t for the baby”??? Sir, we’re not in Panem; calm down.
user: Peeta Verstappen has entered the chat. Someone hand him a loaf of bread. user: Peeta Mellark walked so Max Verstappen could run user: I just KNOW someone’s editing Max into a Peeta scene as we speak. Can’t wait.
user: Okay but what baby would involve George? George is childless?
user: Guys, hear me out: What if Max is secretly dating George’s sister? That’s the ONLY way a baby ties them together. user: Nah, there’s no way. George would’ve punched Max into next week already. user: Okay but think about it. Max. George’s sister. A baby. Uncle George. THIS IS LORE. user: I’m just saying, George’s sister has been looking very glow-y lately… 👀 user: Not a theory, just facts: Max is babytrapping George into a truce. 💀 user: Wait... isn’t George’s sister in Abu Dhabi right now?? 👀 user: omg and they were seen together on his hotel balcony jskjsk user: I’M SCREAMING. THIS THEORY IS TOO GOOD. user: Max... the man, the myth, the secret brother-in-law.
user: F1 fandom today: trying to figure out if Max has a secret family or if we’re all just collectively hallucinating.
user: Bro, if this is true, Netflix better dedicate a whole episode to Uncle George. user: “If it weren’t for the baby” is my villain origin story now.
user: GUYS. What if Max meant baby as in, like, his cat or something? We’re spiraling.
user: Okay but why would George care about Max’s cat?! Use your brain. user: Honestly, the only thing that makes sense is Max dating George’s sister. Uncle George confirmed. Case closed.
user: Y’all, the way I will actually SCREAM if Max and George’s sister are together. This is better than any race drama.
user: Max Verstappen?? A baby daddy?? In THIS economy??
user: Everyone’s fighting over the baby, but I’m just here wondering how Christian Horner is gonna spin this in interviews.
user: Plot twist: The baby is Christian Horner’s with Toto 😭
user: STOP. This is the most chaotic F1 season ever, and I love it.
Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @tremendousstarlighttragedy @grussellsprout @dannyespinosa06 @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz @96mcobo
#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen x you#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#mv1 x reader#mv1 x you#mv1 x y/n#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula one x y/n#formula one x you#f1 smau#f1 social media au#f1 x you#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x oc#formula 1 x you#f1 x oc#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula one smau#formula one fanfiction#formula 1 fic#george russell x reader#george russell x you
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My hands are shaky and my head is refusing to work properly! But! I made it!
The Blurr chapter for Mecha au >:D
Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.
Blurr's job is to smile for the camera and take the applause of people who praise him for his bravery and sacrifice. Blurr's job is to sell his face, his voice and his skills to millions of viewers. He must impress investors, show off advanced technology and make a determined face saying that to save mankind he is ready for anything. And then get in a luxury car and drive off to some expensive place to burn a whole bunch of zeros out of his paycheck.
He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.
And people believe him.
And they love him.
Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.
Under the cut
————————————
Nobody likes Blurr.
Okay, if you think on a large scale, everyone loooves Blurr. His face is on every poster, his brand is in every possible store, his voice and is in every cool commercial. You literally can't exist without knowing who Blurr is, or at least seeing his face once. It's a “Luke I'm your father” level phenomenon. How massive a rock do you have to live under to miss something like that?
Everybody loves Blurr. You can go buy a t-shirt with his face on it. You can go listen to his interviews or purchase a tiny replica of his action figure. There are incredibly many ways a Blurr fan can blow a hole in their budget.
Swerve knows, because he's done it many times. And recently, it's stopped being something he's proud of. To be precise, it was exactly four days ago when Blurr first stepped into his office. Swerve had just finished his shift and was finishing his tea when his boss suddenly appeared in the doorway, with the best racer in the world right behind him.
The tea was instantly dropped, adrenaline was released, and the brain was turned off.
In that moment, Swerve thought that this is what it must look like. The moment when all your good karma comes together in one pile to reward you for all the times you dropped a sandwich butter side down or missed a deadline.
Both of which happened with annoying regularity. Swerve is unlucky. Sometimes things seem to fall through his hands.
It started out great.
Swindle, their boss, showed up in the office space one day looking simultaneously jubilant, nervous, and very inspired. Usually on such occasions, Swerve could almost see the dollar signs reflected in his boss's glasses.
“Attention everyone. We have an important guest arriving in an hour.”
Swindle expressively pushed his glasses down on his nose and looked around the room
“I promised him a tour and I expect you all to behave yourselves.”
He meticulously looks around the floor beneath his feet
“Send someone to clean up all the trash. This place is unbelievably filthy. The floors should be sparkling in twenty minutes! And, oh! Hey you, go buy some good drinks.”
Having finished inspecting the floor Swindle hurriedly runs off, probably to say the same thing to the neighboring department.
Swerve stretches his neck out curiously, listening in
“Is the president coming to see us?”
Walking by, Jazz shrugs
“When the president was coming Swindle said the floor was dirty and made him wear boot covers.”
It's not the president
Swindle gestures generously to the entire office at once and looks overall like a bird trying his best to primp up
“And here we have the engineering department offices. In the next building is the assembly plant, that's where the mechs are put on their feet so to speak. And this is where all the computing, design, and planning happens.”
Just over his shoulder stands and looks around at none other than
Oh, dear God.
Swerve's tea flies to the floor next to his thought processes.
He's seen Blurr countless times, but never in person. How can this guy look as good in person as he does in expensive retouched-until-squeaky-clean photos? Mystery.
Blurr's gaze slides lazily over the simple office setting and for those two seconds when it's directed at Swerve it feels like sheer madness. He tries to look normal. He's not sure he's succeeding, but he's making an effort.
Swindle waltzes through the office, heading for the next door
“Come on I'll show you the mech hangar.”
Blurr grins.
“A highlight of the show I suppose~”
His voice is like a needle bursting a ball of stunned silence. People begin to rise from their seats and scramble to say hello. Someone asks for an autograph, others ask for a bunch of selfies, a couple people in the corner hastily fix their hair, one of the employees just pulls out his phone and shamelessly starts filming.
Swindle looks at the this with an unchanging commercial smile, but his gaze promises all kinds of punishment.
Perhaps if it had been the president, the buffoonery would have been smaller.
______________
For the next few days, Blurr is the big news and the center of all discussion.
Officially? He's becoming one of the pilots in the Mecha program.
In fact? Swindle's greedy soul couldn't get enough of the idea that the Mech concept could be monetized.
The dust is blown off Blurr and his boots are licked. He doesn't go to general training, he doesn't participate in ordinary or overly dangerous missions. He's allowed everything and a little more. His job is to look pretty on camera, speak his lines, smile and wink. He's a walking advertisement and Swindle's incredibly powerful tool in negotiating with investors.
Swerve once saw him called to a negotiation in the middle of the night, and even sleep-deprived and exhausted after a full day of filming, Blurr had the strength to pull that charming expression on his face and flawlessly play along with Swindle wherever he needed to.
His mech was a work of art. And that's not even an exaggeration. Usually the main purpose of mechs is to be efficient and practical. Blurr's Mech was made separately and so many people worked on its design that it could have its own end credits. It's beautiful, sleek, shiny and show-offy. It's designed to be awe-inspiring, but not so decorated that it's ridiculous.
When Swerve looks at its specs, he almost feels sick. Maneuverability, mobility, everything is absolutely top-notch. But most importantly, speed.
The technology to accelerate Mechs to incredible speeds has been around for some time, but the average robot doesn't reach even half of the technically possible maximum. Because even the fastest machine can't outrun the human brain.
After a certain threshold, pilots are no longer capable of controlling their own Mech. Human reaction speed is simply not enough to maneuver without crashing into anything or losing their orientation in space. And. Well. Without losing consciousness.
This has led to Mech manufacturers sort of tacitly agreeing on a rough speed limit and tending to stick to it. Just to make the technology safer and more suitable for everyone.
Regardless. Everyone except Blurr apparently.
Because the numbers across from his Mech's speed specs are horrifying. Swerve looks at the blueprints and thinks it's either freaking awesome or absolute suicide. Maybe something in between. Can a human being have reflexes like that? What about this turning mechanism? The numbers tell him that these levels of g-force make a large percentage of pilots just pass out.
Is Blurr really going to pilot this death wagon??
To achieve that kind of speed and mobility, they'd have to cut off half the armor or make it very light. Which would almost be like inviting a dangerous injury.
But if the Mech is made primarily to flaunt rather than fight...well... it probably makes sense.
Swerve's inner fan is sliding down the wall.
Blurr is incredible. And what's even more incredible is that he's kind of sort of almost Swerve's coworker now.
It only takes him a couple days to realize.
Everyone loves Blurr.
But the one who loves Blurr the most is Blurr himself.
The rose-tinted glasses are breaking slowly but surely. On the first day, Sverve walks up on shaky legs to get introduced. He tells himself that this is definitely not an attempt to get an autograph. They're coworkers. He's just...uh...greeting a new employee.
Blurr looks slightly bored.
“You're from this department....uh.. What's its name, whatever.”
Swerve clutches his hands in front of him so he doesn't accidentally drop anything
“OH.Uh yeah. Swerve! Engineering Department. You were there on a tour the other day. I usually work in the assembly plant, making armor for Mechs, developing new alloys. But I design too! I, uh.
(Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. He'll think you're a crazy fan. Don't talk about Blurr.)
Blurr starts to get sidetracked by his phone.
Swerve swallows awkwardly.
“I'm uh. I'm a big fan of yours. Sir.”
(Good job...)
Blurr chuckles softly and offers out his hand
“Well, nice to meet you.”
Sverve's hand is shaking like crazy, he hopes he isn't squeezing too hard. Working in the assembly has made his hands rough. Blurr's narrow, soft palm is almost sinking in his grip.
“ 'Nice to meet you, yes. Nice to meet you sir! If you, ah, if you have any problems or questions or uh, well. You know, if you need help with your Mech or upgrades or or.”
Blurr chuckles.
“I'll be counting on you~”
Swerve feels like his soul is about to break away from his body.
The next, day when they cross paths in the hallway Blurr waves to him.
“Hey you. Whatever your name is. Can you tell me how to get to Block D?
Swerve stops awkwardly.
“Ah. Of course! I'm Swerve sir. Come, I'll show you.”
Blurr smiles a beautiful, ad-libbed smile and follows him in
“Thank you darling.”
From this point on, the entire program gradually learns a simple but unpleasant truth.
Blurr is an asshole.
And nobody likes him.
He always has everyone at his beck and call. You rarely get to see him on his own. There's always someone swirling around him with a guilty or annoyed face. A sort of serve-get-show-explain designated poor guy.
Swindle treats Blurr like a precious antique vase.
Blurr treats people like his servants.
The whole world is in love with the glittering cover, the image polished to a squeak. Until recently, Swerve was doing the same thing. Now it feels more like an embarrassing crush.
Blurr still doesn't remember his name. He actually remembers at most three to four people by name, and calls everyone else “hey you” or “ darling”. After Swerve reintroduced himself to him for the fourth time he just sort of...stopped trying.
On the field, Blurr is incredible. No one can deny that. The tremendous speed of his Mech leaves all the other pilots in the dust. Whoever said human reflexes weren't fast enough? HA. When Swerve sees his reports and results, he gets dizzy.
The combination of such incredible speeds and light armor means Blurr simply can't miss. If he hesitates, if he falters. If he gets confused. The whole metal thing will smash him to smithereens.
And yet Blurr comes back untouched time after time.
Swerve's no longer inclined to think it's just because of his mad skills. He knows that Swindle is paying Blurr a lot of money for his cooperation. No one would let Blurr fight on the front lines, no. It would be too dangerous. He has to do just enough so that Swindle can record a commercial and in it call Blurr a badass pilot without adding small print to that statement.
Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.
Blurr's job is to smile for the camera and take the applause of people who praise him for his bravery and sacrifice. Blurr's job is to sell his face, his voice and his skills to millions of viewers. He must impress investors, show off advanced technology and make a determined face saying that to save mankind he is ready for anything. And then get in a luxury car and drive off to some expensive place to burn a whole bunch of zeros out of his paycheck.
He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. But he is the first person every citizen would name if asked to say something about the Mech program. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.
And people believe him.
And they love him.
A month later, he still can't remember anyone's names and sometimes calls people by the colors of their clothes, laughing as if they should take it as a cute joke.
Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.
That's okay.
It's not like fanboying over Blurr is Swerve's only passion.
He gets upset.
Then he gets mad and rips down all the posters.
Then he has no time to be angry because Swindle wants to launch Mechs into outer space and damn it, Jazz flies off the planet and doesn't fucking come back. The engineering department stays up nights trying to figure out where he's gone, but they can't.
Unlike Blurr, everybody loved Jazz.
Unlike Blurr, Jazz deserved every ounce of that love.
The ground beneath his feet is starting to shake.
At first, all that happens is panic. Everyone starts making a confused noise, someone assumes an earthquake.
A voice on the speakers says that everyone needs to evacuate immediately, but no one hears it because huge mechanical tentacles start coming through the windows and the whole building starts shaking, creaking and crumbling.
Sverve has seen the monsters humanity has to fight many times. But never this close. And their size leaves him absolutely terrified. These things are huge, they take up all visible space. And what's most damning is that they can break down the walls around Swerve like a fucking cookie.
He's gonna die. Oh god he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die here under this stupid rubble or get eaten or turned into one of the ugly bloody stains on the wall. His heart is doing a million beats a minute and his eyes are starting to sting. He tries to get to the emergency exit, but the door is blocked by one of the huge toothy creatures that is actively trying to get in.
Next to him, Swindle is shouting to someone on his comm, trying to sound louder than the rumble of the collapsing building and the hungry aliens.
The floor tilts at a very disturbing angle and Swerve grabs one of the interior doorways to stay in place. A second later, he reaches out and pulls Swindle, who has already slowly begun to slip toward the monster's huge hungry maw, to the same doorway.
Swindle grabs onto the frame of the door and Swerve at the same time. His glasses are cracked and his usually neat expensive coat is all dust and debris.
“It was a trap.”
Swerve can't hear a word over the grinding of breaking structures.
“What?”
Swindle almost slips and falls, but Swerve grabs him by the scruff of his coat and puts him back on his feet. Working in an assembly shop gives a man strong arms and right now he's very grateful for it.
Swindle makes a second, louder attempt
“It was a trap!!! All available pilots are now on the other side of the country! I've called for backup, but who knows how fast they'll get here.”
A smooth, silky voice comes from a walkie-talkie strapped to his coat.
“Ouch Swindle. So little faith in my professional skills?”
Swindle rounds his eyes
“Blurr??! Where are you!”
Blurr's voice sounds...not quite as it usually does. It's missing the habitual lazy note. The one that makes him sound like the whole world owes him money.
“Give me another minute and the answer will be 'here'.”
The building shakes again. Swindle swears so eloquently that Swerve can't help but admire it.
Swerve can't stand Blurr's smug face, but when he spots the first glimpse of blue metal in the window, joy floods his brain.
He usually associates Blurr with dumb nicknames, dismissive treatment, and commercials.
Now he watches the sleek, fast Mech lunge fearlessly at the monsters surrounding the building and thinks that. Fuck this. He's an asshole, but if he buys Swerve enough time to evacuate, he'll bring him a thank you card or something later. Though it's unlikely Blurr will care about that of course.
Swindle continues to shout instructions over the walkie-talkie. Swerve basically drags him outside by. He jumps up probably a full meter when very near him one of the monsters falls to the ground.
Blurr's Mech stands proudly on top of the fresh corpse and looks...actually really bad. Swerve knows that this particular robot was not built for rough, open confrontation. Its armor is too thin. Designed for speed and agility, not strength. He assembled it himself, after all.
Many of the plates are crumpled. Some are torn off. His legs are intact, but one of the joints sparks funny.
Blurr quickly looks around and Swerve unwittingly follows his example. The whole place is on fire. Office buildings are in ruins and a huge column of black smoke rises above the assembly plant.
Blurr's Mech drops to the ground and gets down on one knee. The plates on its chest are pulled aside and Blurr sticks his head out of the cockpit while simultaneously opening the visor on his helmet.
“Everyone okay?”
Swindle clutches the walkie-talkie
“The office areas are empty, but there still could be people left on the lower floors of the assembly plant. But we have no access there!”
Blurr drums his fingers quickly on the metal plate
“Fire?”
Swindle shrugs his dusty shoulders
“Something exploded at the bottom of the building. It's a real smelter down there.
Even if we send a Mech, it won't last more than a minute before it overheats. Or make the building collapse.”
Blurr's gaze becomes focused. Sharp. Swerve has seen that look many times on tough front line fighters like Jazz. On Blurr, never.
“'That's enough time for me.”
Swindle waves his hands
“Are you crazy?”
Blurr slaps his palm against the armor of his Mech
“This baby is light. Lighter than anything you've got! If anyone can do it without dropping the building, it's me. They make Mechs in the assembly hall, it's got high ceilings right?”
Swerve wants to snap. He wants to throw his hands up angrily and yell something along the lines of “you were literally there!”
Who else is down there on those lower floors??? Tailgate? Maybe Wheeljack? If something exploded, Wheeljack was definitely there. And probably closest to the explosion.
Swindle curses furiously, but retreats and runs off to give orders to someone else.
“”Be a hero if you want, but I'm not going in there. For all I know there could be melting metal in there instead of a floor! It's just not reasonable.”
Swerve's brain stumbles over that statement. Why...Swindle is acting like he's being forced to climb into that building too...?
Blurr looks nervous.
“You know what. Fine. I got it. Hey, you--”
And there it is. The good old namelesness.
Blurr pays no attention to Swerve's frowning face, nor his hands shaking with fear
“ You're familiar with those buildings. You know who was there and where to find them right? I need you to walk me through.”
Swerve feels the urge to snap again and this time doesn't hold it back
“If you cared about something other than yourself, you'd know this damn building and the people who work in it too and !”
“I don't fucking remember!” Blurr interrupts him.
Swerve doesn't have time to put anything in after that. Though a sarcastic comment is begging to be made.
Blurr quickly takes off his helmet and wipes the sweat off his forehead.
“I don't remember okay! This isn't a fad or posing or whatever else you think of me. This is what an accident can do to you if you miss a turn! I can't remember shit, okay?! Do you need a medical report?!”
Swerve just...stands there with his mouth open and probably looks like an idiot.
Blurr nervously tucks back his disheveled hair. The longer he talks, the faster he does it.
“Now. I know you don't want to die in a pit of fire. But I need your help to save them. Don't do anything, just take the map. I promise I won't let you die.”
He sounds determined. And holds out his hand to Swerve, silently inviting him to climb up onto the Mech.
His face is stained in sticky dust, his hair is an absolute mess, and his narrow palm is covered in streaks of soot. It's as if he's been dragged face down a muddy road.
He's. Very Handsome, Swerve thinks.
He takes his hand.
Blurr helps him up, pushes him into the space next to the pilot's seat, and closes the cockpit.
“Been inside a working Mech ever?”
Swerve clenches his hands nervously on the back of the seat
“No.”
The lights of the consoles around him come to life as Blurr puts on his helmet. The space around him hums. It's a strange noise. At once unsettling and calm.
Mech feels alive, he thinks. Then corrects himself. Blurr is mind-linked to this Mech. This Mech can technically be considered alive in a sense.
Blurr moves one of the monitors toward him and opens the map.
“Just mark the path here. Don't touch anything else. And hold on tight. I won't be going too fast anyway, but it'll be shaky.”
Swerve swallows nervously.
“Understood.”
After that, everything turns into motion. Watching the Mech work while being inside is mesmerizing.
Blurr doesn't say much, concentrating on the controls. His hands aren't shaking anymore, Swerve notices. Not even a little.
He steers the machine forward confidently and smoothly, dodging falling debris and avoiding the biggest pockets of fire without panic or hesitation.
He's also strictly following the path Swerve is laying out for him.
The air filtration system is doing well so far. Swerve can feel the smell of burning and the heat slowly creeping up, but it's bearable for now. For now.
They find a man on the nearside of the emergency exit.
Two more people a floor below. A small group stuck in the elevator.
Wheeljack's on the doorstep of his lab.
Blurr pulls them all out. Picks up the first group of people and carries them outside, goes back into the fiery furnace, finds more survivors, pulls them out, goes back, searches, rescues, goes back, searches, rescues.
The heat is coming up. Swerve can feel it. The plates around him are getting hot. The air smells like burnt wires.
Blurr’s Mech wasn't designed for this kind of thing.
His Mech was made to flash for the camera and accelerate to impossible speeds. To deceive and confuse the enemy. Its armor is thin and cools easily in the air, which usually helps it avoid overheating.
This also means that this Mech heats up very quickly as well.
Now, with the air around him feeling like a red-hot frying pan, Swerve regrets not saying anything back then. He regrets that he didn't make any changes to the blueprint.
More and more warnings pop up on the screens. The map stopped working correctly some time ago and Swerve is forced to give directions verbally.
He nervously grips the back of the pilot seat with one hand and, without noticing, Blurr's shoulder with the other.
Blurr carries two more people outside and hands them to the rescuers. Then turns back to the building again and. OH FUCK. Right in front of him, a huge crack begins to creep along the structure. This thing is on the verge of collapse. The roof is already starting to fold down in a very bad way.
Swerve clenches his grip fearfully and hears Blurr hiss through his teeth.
Suddenly, the cockpit opens. The fresh air of the street feels like a cold sledgehammer blow after the heat and stuffiness of the lower levels.
Swerve is about to ask something, but doesn't have time because Blurr uses Mech's hand to gently but quickly pull him outside and set him on the ground.
“You were going to mark another spot.”
Swerve nods hurriedly.
“Tailgate is still there.”
Blurr wrinkles his face.
Swerve corrects himself and clarifies
“Bright blue uniform. Short. Considering all the places we've been, I think he's in the staff quarters. It's...”
He chews his fingers, trying to remember numbers and directions without a map
“...two floors down, left, another floor down and straight ahead.”
As he speaks Blurr bends over the side of the open cockpit and spits...blood on the ground. His nose is bleeding, Swerve realizes. That's not good. It's a clear sign of a malfunctioning neural connection. Or damage to his respiratory system? Possibly both.
Blurr doesn't seem to notice his worried look
“Two down, left down then. Shit. Wait. Two down, left then down, straight ahead yeah?”
Swerve nods.
Blurr keeps repeating these directions like a mantra. A very fast and creepy mantra.
His gaze roams strangely and his breaths sound hoarse. His teeth and chin are covered in blood and his face is streaked with soot.
Swerve understands. He's about to do another go.
Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight.
Alone. He's going, and he's going to fry himself alive in there for a stranger he doesn't even remember.
Swerve doesn't have time to say anything. What's he gonna say? Stop? But he wants to save Tailgate? Go on, I believe in you? But it's certain death.
Swerve rarely has nothing to say, but this time he can't find the right words.
Blurr wipes the blood with his sleeve, wrinkles his nose, and storms off, heading back into the flaming mess the plant has become.
Not twenty seconds later, the roof collapses, spewing a huge cloud of smoke, ash, and fire into the sky.
Swerve wrinkles his shirt nervously in his hands.
The walls are still in place, right? If the roof is gone but the walls are still standing it's... it's. It's.
Damn it. He's trying to remember the blueprints. It means the ejector will work. It means Blurr can still get out through the top. That--
Blurr's not getting out. As the small, bright blue escape pod appears above the falling walls of the building, Swerve feels his brain stop. Remember the blueprints, remember the damn blueprints. The Mech is light, the design is compact, the space in the pod is for only one person.
In the capsule lies an unconscious Tailgate.
Swindle grasps the radio
“Blurr? BLURR!”
Swerve looks at the smoke and ash and feels numb. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He has to know. He doesn't...
He feels weird. The same kind of weird as when objects fly seemingly through him. Everything just stops being real.
The thought comes out of nowhere. You don't have to obey the rules. You can see more. Just look.
He's not sure how or why he's doing it.
No one around him is paying much attention to him. Everyone's busy with survivors and damage assessment or just stunned by the chaos.
And him? He disappears.
And then he appears at the bottom. Under the rubble.
All around him is ugly, molten and red-hot chaos, but he doesn't care anymore. He feels like whatever is happening is about to end and he just has to be in time. Time for him to find out.
Blurr's Mech lies crushed by the fallen roof. Its cockpit is open. A gaping hole where his chest was, the place where the escape pod had undocked.
Wall debris has pinned him in a crooked, grotesque pose.
Blurr is here. His legs are wedged between crumpled metal plates inside the cockpit, leaving him hanging upside down. His suit is charred. Half of his face is destroyed. It looks like a horrible bloody and burned mess. It's ugly and gruesome.
Blurr opens his only working eye and gives Swerve a cloudy look.
“I must be seeing things...”
Swerve shrugs in daze. He knows he shouldn't be here.
Blurr spits up a mouthful of blood
“I'm sorry I hurt you uh...”
“Swerve.”
“Yes. Swerve. It's hard for me to remember things unless they're...akgh...hell... not in my face all the time.”
Swerve moves closer and frowns
“You know, that explains but doesn't excuse you.”
Blurr closes his eye and coughs. That sounds really bad.
“No...I guess not.”
He huffs off the blood again. The burned half of his face is oozing with it. The blood runs down his forehead, collecting in a small puddle on the floor.
“It was better than letting everyone know what's wrong with me. I can't even begin to think about the amount of messes I'd be dragged into.”
Swerve notes that the fire seems to be getting closer.
This whole bit of dialog is so unnatural. Who even talks about that kind of stuff before they die. On the other hand. Well. Character development?
“So you think it's better to have everyone assume you're a jerk than that you got your head screwed on?”
Blurr wrinkles his nose.
“ You're a very specific kind of ghost.”
Swerve shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away
“I needed to know. Before you die.”
“That's ...akghhh...ha....it's good to know. Can you tell me something Swerve? As..agh...
As a last wish?”
Swerve shrugs again. He stares at the dripping blood. At the ugly, bubbling burns. At the burst vessels in his eye and the paths of blood from his bleeding nose. He looks at the broken and scorched and dying bloody mess.
He looks at Blurr.
And he thinks, until today, he didn't really love Blurr. Not with the posters and figurines. Not with the disdain and dislike.
He loved an image. And hated an image.
He reaches out and tries to touch Blurr's hand, but goes through it.
“I'm sorry. But we're both not really here. And I have to go.”
He can feel the cold metal around him, which is strange because he's standing in the middle of smoking and burning ruins
“But if it makes you happy, I guess you're my favorite character after all.”
Blurr doesn't answer. Swerve isn't sure he even heard him.
The feeling of metal around him grows sharper.
Someone shines a flashlight in his face.
Swerve blinks stupidly and tries to move away.
The unknown Autobot medic standing over him smiles happily and puts the flashlight away
“Welcome back. You've been in a coma Primus knows how long.”
The other medic to the side frowns
“You have zero tact.”
Swerve blinks his optics puzzled, raises his servo and for a while just stares at it like some movie character. All around him is an Autobot medbay. Metal walls. Metal instruments. And him. Metal.
Yes. Seems so. That's the way he's always been. That's right.
“Doc, you won't believe what kind of weird dream I had.”
___________
Swerve feels like he's going crazy.
He's standing in the middle of a hallway on one of the Autobot ships, and he's staring. shamelessly.
There's Prowl standing at the end of the hallway. And on his shoulder is...
“ JAZZ????”
Both bot and human turn around abruptly at his scream. And both look equally puzzled.
Jazz waves his hand
“Do I know you?”
Swerve is definitely going crazy. It's Jazz. The same one. From his...dream??? But he's real and tangible??? Sitting on Prowl's shoulder, talking and breathing and being seen by everyone not only Swerve????
“You're...real...?”
Jazz raises his eyebrows
“I am. Yes. Really Mech, you sound very familiar.
But I can tell you for a fact that I have not been friends with any Cybertronians before...”
This can't be, this can't be, this isn't....
It was a dream. The spawn of his TV series-addled mind. A hallucination. It wasn't real. It wasn't, was it?
But Jazz is here. And he disappeared from Earth. And now he's here.
And.
What the..
Swerve blurts out something like “sorry-sorry-see-you-later-now-I've got to go” and runs off.
“HEY DOC????”
The autobot, already familiar to him, flinches
“Primus...Swerve? Is something wrong?”
Swerve realizes that everything is about to either make sense or lose it completely.
“Tell me...is it possible to project a holoform...like...very far away?”
The Doctor tilts his head.
“Depends on power consumption. If you channel all the energy available in a frame, you can go very far. But that would send you into a...coma...if you...tried...Swerve, is there anything you'd like to tell me?”
“Doc do you know where Earth is?”
“Wha...no?”
Swerve chuckles nervously and bites his knuckles.
“I don't either. But I think I've been there...”
#tf mecha universe#Blurr#Swindle#Swerve#Jazz#Tailgate#Wheeljack#maccadam#Prowl#Jazzprowl happens for like two seconds#mecha writing#mecha bs writing#mecha kef writing
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aaron’s wife going into labor on his birthday or the day before and gives birth on his birthday?
only more reasons to celebrate
happy birthday aaron 🥰 & the abridged version of ellie's debut!! (now it's official she and aaron share a birthday <3) cw; fem pregnant!reader, (sad) references to 9x5 and takes place end of 9x6, vague childbirth talk with no specific details, fluff!!! wc; 1.3k
"Happy almost birthday. I'll keep it on the DL." You heard Penelope utter to Aaron, faintly as she walked past him.
"Thank you." He replied, finding your eyes and offering a wink.
Come tomorrow, he was confident it would be anything but on the down low. He knew you, and although you were about ready to pop, you would go all out for him as much as you possibly could.
And he was right - you and Jack had already planned his day out to a T, beginning with a birthday banner and all.
"Okay everybody, I guess it's time-" Penelope spoke to the group, embracing her role as hostess, holding the team's very first Day of the Dead party.
You smiled to yourself at their brief exchange, your eyes flicking between the two of them. Your heart warmed, especially when Aaron sidled alongside you, a hand finding your lower back.
After the last few weeks, after what Aaron had endured, there was only more of a reason to celebrate. His close proximity; the heat radiating from his body, the smell of his cologne, choked you up immediately.
Sole reminders he was in fact, here.
Undergoing emergency surgery, fighting for his life - all of which nearly sent you into an early labor - once again he had defied all odds. It could've been very likely you could've been celebrating his birthday without him, talking to him through a candle as he and Jack did to Haley.
You immediately pushed the thought from your mind. It petrified you. Losing him. Bringing your baby into the world without him. Jack losing another parent. Life without Aaron. You couldn't afford to think like that.
And now, with that in the past, it finally felt as if life were settling back down. As much as it could, at least. The newest Hotchner addition soon to make their arrival into your family.
"Hey," You said softly, mumbling underneath Penelope's spiel. "I love you."
His hand moved from your back to your shoulder, offering a comforting squeeze. "I love you."
But despite your want for a bit of normalcy, it was interrupted by twinge erupting in your body. It wasn't your first little pang either, but you figured - it couldn't be. Not yet.
JJ, on the other hand, was keyed in onto you. She's been studying you all night long, throughout all of Penelope's planned extravaganzas - appetizers, the remembrances, enjoying the party. From every movement, reaction, facial expression.
It wasn't until the strongest contraction hit, and when you were beginning to seriously question it. She, out of all people, would know. She nearly did the same thing herself.
"What?" You innocently asked, despite the fact you knew, as her intensifying stare hadn't lifted from you in a fair few minutes. You flinched slightly, pain written across your face. You lowered your hand, deciding against the hors d'oeuvres you had been reaching for.
"How far apart are they?"
That was all JJ had to say, causing an instant standstill in the room. Aaron's eyes widened as they shot to you, realization filling them within a second. The rest of the team's conversations came to a halt, anticipating eyes on you. An excited squeal escaped Penelope.
Everything after that was a blur. Aaron getting you to the car in a frenzy; a very calm, and collected frenzy. Getting to the hospital, checking in, and experiencing the highs and lows of childbirth. At one point, you certainly cut off the circulation in Aaron's hand.
Come mid morning and an epidural later, she was here.
"Sorry for overshadowing your birthday." You took a break from admiring the little one swaddled in your arms to glance at your husband. It was hard to tear your gaze away. She was perfect.
And not only did you feel an outpouring amount of love for her, but Aaron as well. Viewing him in a different, lovingly light. It felt as if your chest could burst with infatuation. She was half you, half him. The two of you brought this bundle of joy into the world, together.
"Are you kidding?" Aaron gave you an almost offended look from where he was seated beside you, before a smile overtook his face. He pressed a kiss to your temple, gazing at your daughter too. "This is easily, easily the best birthday I could ever imagine. You've given me the greatest gift. Thank you for making it even more special, sweetheart."
The happiness on your face grew, and he immediately gave you a kiss. You could feel his smile.
"Thank you for making me a Dad again."
Later in the day, Jack's head poked through the crack of the door, a grinning Jessica behind him.
"Hey," Aaron beckoned the two of them in, both entering slowly. Jess had a plastic tray of cupcakes in hand. Celebrations were in order, times two.
"Hi Mom, Dad."
Jack hesitantly approached, surprisingly shy. You imagined Jessica had given him the quiet talk on the way up. Either that, or maybe he was still a bit weary from when he visited Aaron in the hospital a few weeks ago - there was the smallest bit of worrisome furrowed in his brows.
Jess stepped off to the side, allowing the four of you to have your moment.
"Hi buddy." You greeted as your eyes immediately welled up, the emotion clear in your voice; overwhelmed from enduring childbirth, your hormones everywhere, and the pure happiness coursing through your veins. "Wanna meet your sister?"
It was surreal too; Jack finally meeting his little sibling. After months of excitement, preparation, talks of what life would be like with a new addition. The time had finally arrived.
Right now. Right now was the beginning of their bond that was sure to be the most special thing.
"Sister?" His face lit up, any remaining hesitations aside as he made it to your bedside, attempting to lean over to get a clearer view. "She's a girl?"
"Here, careful." Aaron's hands extended forward, helping him onto the hospital bed. You were sore, multiple IVs were poking into you, and to make certain the baby wasn't disrupted by any of the movement.
Jack nestled gently into your side, peering at her in absolute awe. The smallest of breaths left him, you could feel his exhale on your arm. "I can't believe that's really her. She's so tiny."
"Isn't she? Can you believe you were this small once?" You asked, adjusting the blanket to expose a bit more of her face. At the action, Aaron's posture straightened, ready to assist if needed, or to simply do it for you. He was definitely worried you'd somehow overexert yourself. "Are you up for holding her?"
Jack's expression widened, nodding vigorously as Aaron did help this time - moving her from your arms to his, and ensuring the back of her head was supported. The classic pillow-under-the elbow strategy.
Once settled, her eyes opened for a moment, blinking up at her big brother, as if she knew she was being held by him. Jack's gaze lifted in shock, glancing between you and Aaron. Once again, cue your tears.
"What's her name?"
"Eleanor." Aaron answered proudly, another smile tugging on his lips. You met his gaze, grinning.
"She shares a birthday with you Dad." Jack stated, using the side of his index finger to brush her cheek. "That's so cool. You guys are like twins."
"Yeah well, we'll see how much Eleanor likes it as she gets older."
You playfully rolled your eyes, your reaction causing a chuckle to exit Aaron. His hand found the back of your head, lovingly smoothing your hair down.
"It's very cool." Aaron still confirmed, his heart full. "I was just telling Mom, this is one the best presents I could ever receive."
"And two birthdays mean two birthday cakes." Jack looked up at his father, grinning from ear to ear. "Ellie will love it."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds drabble#aaron hotchner drabble#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfiction#hotch imagine#criminal minds x fem!reader
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Simon would never argue with MOB, that’s a given. And defending her honor??? Maybe it’s leaked that Mrs. Riley is in fact a Mail Order Bride for who knows where doing who knows what and let’s just say someone spreads that rumor around base and it gets back to one Lieutenant👀👀
mail-order bride
cw: graphic depictions of violence, a little smidge of dark!simon, misogynistic language (18+)
"here to see your husband, mrs. riley?"
you smile, shuffling in the chair. the woman who greets you is always here with a happy disposition, even when she's drowning in paperwork and the telephone on her desk won't stop ringing. she looks a little stressed today, but she gives you a smile anyways.
"yeah," you smooth your hands down your jeans, looking around. "told me his day would be slow, so i thought i'd bring him--"
you're interrupted by the sound of intense laughter and loud voices. the front doors open, banging against the wall practically, and a group of soldiers move past you. you fiddle with your purse, smoothing your thumb over the leather, but when you hear the subtle laughter and whispers still around you, you look up.
you make eye contact with several privates. they're whispering in each other's ears, but once they notice you're staring, they laugh a little more and make continue into the building. some of them look over their shoulder at you, and you look down to see if something is wrong with your outfit. when you check to make sure no tags are sticking out and that you haven't worn two different shoes, you just try to shrug it off, tucking your hair behind your ears and tapping your foot anxiously against the linoleum floor.
"okay, he's ready to see you. you know where it is by now, right?"
you blink, nodding, and then you swing your purse over your shoulder to walk over.
there's a game playing in the rec room. they've got banners up for their teams hung on the walls and streamers in different colors, and there's lots of men cheering and whooping in the room. just as you pass by the door, you squeak as you bump right into two laughing men, stumbling a little as they try to right themselves.
"fuck, sorry--" one of them chuckles. you frown a little but try to smile, moving to shimmy past them.
"is that her?"
"who?"
"didn't ya hear? lieutenant bought her off some sort of fucked-up catalog. heard she's real expensive."
you whip around, your lip trembling, and your shoes squeak against the floor as you stare right at them. one of them is smiling from ear-to-ear, and the other is laughing to himself.
"where did you hear that?" you ask.
"everybody knows, love," he winks. "so how much is it for a night? maybe we can do a group rate."
"e-excuse me?" you whisper, and he leans his arm against the wall, trapping you there.
"we heard all about the...program. thought maybe if we asked real nice, maybe we'd even get a discount."
"i don't know what you're talking about," you spit at him. "whatever you think this is, you're wrong. now get out of my way--"
"how much? how much did he fucking pay?"
"oh, mate--mate, you have to stop--" his friend tries to warn him, smacking him on the shoulder, but he glares down at you still, in your face, accusatory.
his face goes from smug to absolutely terrified when he's grabbed from behind. the hand that cages you against the wall is gripped by a gloved hand, twisted at an unnatural angle, and you flinch a little at the sound of his wail when his arm follows it's motion and a sickening pop echoes in the hallway.
his screams are suddenly drowned out by the cheering from the football game. someone scored maybe, but the man underneath simon screams, too, terrified as your husband mounts him like a fucking horse and slams his face against the floor.
it's like watching an artist. he paints his surroundings in flecks of red, the occasional clatter of a tooth falling at their feet, and you tilt your head to the side as you watch simon fist that man's hair and makes him eat whatever that floor is made of. he's in agony--that much is clear, from the way he shakes to the terrified look in his eyes, the pleading he sends your way as he asks for mercy.
when simon lets him go, he collapses onto the ground in a fit of bloody coughs and groans. his arm hangs from his shoulder limply (surely it's been pulled out of its socket), and his face is unrecognizable. you think his eyes were blue, but you can't tell anymore. they're red now, pupils blown wide, and he keeps moaning between broken teeth, "didn't mean it...i'm sorry...i'm sorry..."
simon kneels, leaning over him, and he grips the front of his uniform and pulls him up to sit, making him cry out from the pain. he tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes, and he drops his voice low.
"dunno where ya heard all tha' shit," simon mutters. "ain't true."
"n-no, sir--"
"i didn't say you could fuckin' talk," simon continues. "and if ya do again, i'll make sure ya can't." when he says nothing, simon tsks. "maybe ya wish ya could even afford my wife, mate. but ya can't." he tugs him a little closer. "'m gonna make ya an example. 'm not done with you. you are going to eat a fuckin' bullet from me, mate, but it won't be today. it'll be someday." simon presses his masked mouth to his ear. "but if i hear anyone else repeat wot you said 'ere today, i'll do it sooner. and you should know better than t'run...because i will find ya. wherever ya go." simon jostles him, and you swallow as he cries, trying to pull away, "now say thank you t'my wife. say thank you, because if she wasn't 'ere, i'd put my fuckin' boot in yer mouth--say it!"
"thank you! thank you!"
you simply blink as simon lets him go finally, standing, and as he walks past you, he grabs your hand roughly in his and starts to walk. you look over your shoulder as he tugs you along, and when you look back, you intertwine your fingers with his.
when the door closes behind him, simon slumps in his chair. he grips his mask from the back of the neck and pulls it off, burying his face in his hands. you set your bag down and kneel in front of him, putting your hands over his.
"simon--"
"wot the fuck is wrong with me?"
"simon--"
"i-in...i...i fuckin' lost it--"
you pull his hands off his face gently, cupping his cheeks. the eye-black smears a little around his eyes. there are no tears, but his eyes are watery as he stares into yours. his hands are shaking, and he palms his thighs to keep them steady.
"it's okay, simon," you whisper.
"i didn't want you to see me tha' way," he shakes his head. "violent. aggressive. fuck, i must've terrified you--"
"i'm not scared," you say softly. you smooth your thumbs under his eyes. "no one...no one's ever done anything like that for me before." you meet his eyes, and he leans a little more into your hands, bending low to get closer to you. "maybe he deserved it."
"i would...i would never--"
"shhh," you quiet him gently, shaking your head. "i know. i'm not scared of you."
you lean up, putting your hands on his knees and getting up just enough to get into his lap. you close your eyes as you kiss him softly, hugging him close, soothing him with a soft hand on the back of his head.
"you didn't do anything wrong, simon..."
"it's okay, baby..."
"i love you."
you know it isn't true. you're lying, somewhat, but it doesn't feel like a lie because it feels good. sick of being smaller, sick of being stepped on, sick of letting other people not be held accountable for the things that they do.
just this once maybe, you can let someone bleed. for misunderstanding you. for judging you. for not realizing there is a thing attached to you that bites and tears apart.
the world is a terrible place. and maybe you are simply just owed.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost mwii#ghost x reader#cod#call of duty#order up
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