#so that when they are Like That i can just be like. okay cool i'm gonna hang out with the grannies now bye

[keferon]

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...”

[olive-main]

Hi, hope you’re well! Saw your request for angst ideas. If you’re interested: Reader has been part of the Inner Circle for years, like an og member. Post war she watches Az fall in love with Elaine or Gwyn. She’s known they’re mates, but he’s always told her he loves her as a friend, and nobody else knows they’re mates. She watches as his relationship grows, maybe they’re having a kid or whatever, this can be all the angst you see fit. She’s finally had enough and decides to leave (either for work as an emissary or for herself). Maybe as she starts to rebuild, Az and the IC realize how much her loss impacts them. But when they go see her, she’s thriving. Ending can be whatever floats your boat, maybe she’s with Eris or thriving in Day as Lucien’s advisor, or something else all together.

To Love and Let Go

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: An unrequited love, and a one sided mating bond. What will reader do when she can no longer watch Azriel fall for another female who isn’t her?

Wc: 2.9k (gah dayum)

A/N: ok, this is the longggest fic I've written to date, but I don't hate it...and I may be persuaded to write a part two with multiple endings bcs I'm indecisive asf. Requests are still open and highly encouraged since I'm on break and have a bunch of free time, clearly.

__

The stars are mocking tonight, their gleam far too bright for the storm brewing inside you. Velaris has always been beautiful, but tonight the city feels suffocating. The laughter of your family echoes around the River House’s dining room, filling the space with warmth and joy.

You sit at the edge of the long table, wine in hand, your smile carefully in place. Cassian is in the middle of one of his stories, something about Azriel and a drunken spar decades ago. The table erupts in laughter, and you can’t help but glance at him.

Azriel sits across from you, his shoulders relaxed, his shadows soft and relaxed as they curl lazily around him. He’s laughing—quiet and rare, but enough to tug at your chest in a way you’ve never been able to stop.

Beside him, Gwyn is radiant. She laughs, bright and genuine, her hand resting on his arm as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand shifts, fingers brushing over hers in a way that’s intimate, tender. Simple. Devastating.

You lift your wine to your lips and down the rest of the glass in one burning gulp.

You’ve known for years that Azriel isn’t yours to have. When the Cauldron whispered of your bond, it hadn’t been the joyous revelation you’d dreamed of. Instead, it had been a curse.

You feel it even now—that golden thread tying your soul to his, pulling taut every time you see him. But Azriel never acknowledged it, not once. How could he when he didn't even know it existed?

“You’re my best friend,” he’d told you long ago, sitting beside you on a rooftop in Velaris, the two of you cloaked in silence and shadows. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And you’d smiled. Smiled and tucked the truth deeper inside yourself, burying it so far down you almost convinced yourself it wasn’t real. Almost.

The conversation shifts around you, but the words blur together, distant and unimportant. You force yourself to stay, to laugh when you’re supposed to, to nod in all the right places.

Across the table, Gwyn leans closer to Azriel, whispering something in his ear. He smiles at her, that soft, secret smile you’ve seen so many times over the years. But it’s never been for you.

The ache in your chest spreads, sharp and relentless, until you can’t bear it any longer. You push your chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the floor.

“Everything okay?” Mor asks, her brows furrowing as she studies you.

You nod quickly, forcing a tight smile. “Just need some air.”

No one questions you, and you’re grateful for it. You slip out of the room and onto the balcony, the cool night air rushing to meet you. The stars stretch endlessly above, and for a moment, you close your eyes and pretend this life isn’t yours.

But the bond hums faintly in the back of your mind, tethering you to someone who will never feel the same way.

—

You grip the balcony railing, the cool metal grounding you as you draw in a shaky breath. The quiet should feel peaceful, but it doesn’t. Not with the sound of their laughter spilling through the open door behind you, not with the bond thrumming painfully in the back of your mind.

You’ve endured this for years. Watching Azriel laugh, fight, live, all while pretending your heart doesn’t shatter every time he smiles at someone who isn’t you. Gwyn. Elain before her, and Mor long before that. All the women who could never feel what you feel for him—but were lucky enough to have his attention anyway.

And then there’s you, his best friend. The one he trusts, confides in, leans on. Just never in the way you ache for. Even before the bond snapped, you’d been in love with the Shadowsinger. He was always the calm amongst the chaos of your family, the one you could seek refuge in.

The sound of footsteps interrupts your thoughts. You don’t need to look to know it’s him. His shadows reach you first, curling gently around your wrist, hesitant and curious. They always do that, as if they sense the things he doesn’t.

“Are you okay?” Azriel’s voice is soft, warm in a way that makes it harder to breathe.

You release the railing and turn to face him, your mask firmly in place. “I’m fine. Just needed a moment.”

His brows pull together, his hazel eyes studying you in that unrelenting way of his. “You’ve seemed… distracted tonight.”

You force a laugh, shaking your head. “I’m not distracted. Just tired, that’s all.” The lie was easy on your tongue, a lie you’ve repeated more times than you can count.

His shadows shift, curling tighter around you. “You can tell me if something’s wrong,” he says, his voice low, careful.

You want to laugh again. Wrong? Everything is wrong. Your mate is standing in front of you, looking at you with concern while his love sits inside, waiting for him. He doesn’t even feel the bond that’s been tearing you apart for years. How could you possibly tell him the truth?

“I’m fine, Az,” you say again, stepping back, putting distance between you. “Go back inside. Gwyn’s probably wondering where you are.”

Something flickers across his face, but it’s gone before you can place it. He hesitates, his shadows brushing against your hand one last time before retreating.

“All right,” he says quietly. But he doesn’t look convinced.

You watch him go, his wings casting long shadows across the balcony as he disappears into the house. The bond hums faintly, pulling at your heart even as you stand there alone.

—

A part of you wants to blame yourself for never telling him about the mating bond. It was known Azriel always longed for a mate, so much so he had made the bold claim of Elain being his mate once upon a time. Now, he's with Gwyn under that same notion. Unfortunately, your heart had wanted him to love you without the influence of the bond.

Your thoughts persist as you force your eyes shut, trying and failing to fall asleep.

Instead, you lie awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling as the weight of it all presses down on you. You’ve built your entire life around the Inner Circle, around him. And for what? To watch him build a life with someone else? To keep breaking your own heart over and over again?

No.

When dawn comes, the decision is already made.

—

“Are you sure about this?” Feyre asks, her hand resting lightly on your arm.

You stand in the foyer of the River House, your bags already packed and waiting by the door. The soft morning light filters through the windows, casting golden hues over everything. It should feel warm. Comforting. But all you feel is the ache of goodbye.

“I’m sure,” you say, and your voice doesn’t waver.

Rhysand stands a few paces away, arms crossed, his violet eyes sharp and assessing. You were like a sister to him, someone he’d protected and seen through every phase of life. “You don’t have to do this,” he says gently. “We can figure something out. If you need time off, time for yourself—”

“I need more than time, Rhys,” you interrupt, forcing a small smile to soften the blow. “I need space. A fresh start. This is the right move for me.”

You’d rehearsed this conversation a dozen times, carefully framing your departure as a professional opportunity. An emissary position in Day Court. Helion had been eager to accept your offer, praising your skills and promising a new challenge that you could sink your teeth into.

It wasn’t a lie. You would thrive in Day Court. But it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Feyre’s grip on your arm tightens, her lips pressing together as if she’s holding back an argument. “I just… I don’t want you to feel like you’re running away,” she says softly.

You glance past her, your eyes catching on the open archway leading to the dining room. You can feel him in there, his shadows faint even from this distance. The bond pulls, a sharp tug against your ribs.

“I’m not running away,” you tell her, even though part of you wonders if that’s exactly what this is. “I’m choosing myself for once.”

Rhys nods slowly, his expression unreadable. “If that’s what you need, then we support you. Always.”

A lump rises in your throat, but you swallow it down, turning to hug Feyre. “Thank you. For everything.”

—

Azriel watches from the shadows of the dining room as you leave. He doesn’t mean to linger there, doesn’t mean to eavesdrop—but he can’t help it.

He hears Feyre’s quiet goodbye, Rhys’s reassurances. He sees the way your shoulders straighten as you step out the door, as if you’re carrying a weight none of them can understand.

Something twists in his chest, sharp and unfamiliar.

He doesn’t understand it. You’ve left Velaris before, gone on missions and trips for weeks at a time. But this feels… different. Permanent.

For a moment, he almost steps forward, almost calls out to you. But then the door closes, and you’re gone.

—

The Day Court is a world apart from Velaris.

Here, the sun always seems to shine, casting a golden glow over Helion’s sprawling palace. It’s vibrant, full of life, and for the first time in years, you feel as though you can finally breathe.

Helion welcomes you with open arms, praising your work and throwing you headfirst into new projects. The days are busy, your nights peaceful, and slowly—very slowly—the ache in your chest begins to fade.

You make new allies and friends. Lucien, especially, becomes an unexpected source of comfort. He understands unspoken bonds, the pain of being tied to someone who doesn’t want you. For the first few weeks, most, if not all your time was spent by his side.

“You’re free now,” he tells you one evening, the two of you sitting on a balcony overlooking the Day Court gardens. His amber eyes glint in the fading sunlight. “It doesn’t feel like it yet, but it will. One day.”

You smile, a real smile, and let the words settle in your chest.

—

Back in Velaris, the Inner Circle feels the void you’ve left behind. Cassian complains loudly during training sessions about how things don’t run as smoothly without you. Mor keeps suggesting trips to Day Court, half-joking but half-serious. Even Feyre finds herself reaching for you during meetings, only to realize you’re no longer there.

And Azriel…

Azriel notices most of all.

He misses the quiet way you steadied him, the way you always seemed to know what he needed before he did. The balance you brought to the group. To him.

At first, he tells himself it’s just an adjustment. You’ll be back eventually. But as the weeks stretch into months, he begins to realize just how deeply your absence has cut into his life.

The shadow of the bond hums faintly in the back of his mind, but he doesn’t understand why.

Not yet.

—

It’s Feyre who suggests the trip.

“You’ve been working too hard,” she tells Azriel, shooting him with a look that leaves no room for argument. “We all have. A visit to Day Court will do us some good. Besides, it’s been too long since we’ve seen her.”

Azriel hesitates but eventually agrees. He tells himself it’s curiosity, that he just wants to see how you’re settling in. Since you’ve left his relationship with everyone, Gywn especially, has grown distant. He tries to find you in her, comparing the small things that shouldn’t matter—and every time it only makes his heart sink.

When they arrive, they find you in the Day Court gardens, laughing at something Lucien has said. The sunlight catches in your hair, your face glowing with a happiness Azriel hasn’t seen in years.

The gardens are breathtaking, a vibrant sprawl of golden blooms and gleaming fountains that seem to echo the brilliance of the sun overhead. But Azriel doesn’t see any of it.

His focus is entirely on you.

You look radiant, the golden hues of Day Court seeming to highlight the confidence you’ve gained in your time away.

Lucien leans closer, his expression soft yet intent, and the sight makes something dark and ugly twist in Azriel’s chest. It’s not the first time he’s seen Lucien or been jealous of the male, but this—this—feels different. He used to feel that pang of jealousy when he blindly pined for Elain, now with you it returned with a greater force.

He doesn’t understand why these feelings have suddenly spread through him. You’ve always been his friend. His anchor. But as Lucien reaches out to brush a stray hair from your face, Azriel feels like he’s watching something slip through his fingers.

“Az?” Feyre’s voice pulls him back. She’s watching him with careful eyes, her brow furrowing.

He shakes his head and straightens his posture, forcing his expression back into neutral territory. “I’m fine.” But he isn’t.

Before Feyre can press him further, Lucien notices their approach and gives a low whistle. “Well, well. Velaris sends its finest.” His tone is teasing, but there’s warmth in his amber eyes as they flick toward you.

You turn, and when your gaze lands on Azriel, your smile falters. It’s a subtle shift, but he sees it. Feels it.

“Rhysand. Feyre. Azriel,” you greet, inclining your head slightly, your voice polite but distant. As if they were strangers and not the family you chose all those centuries ago.

He hates it.

The reunion is cordial at first, filled with pleasantries and talk of work. Lucien stands close to you, his presence steady, his hand occasionally brushing yours in a way that grounds you. Azriel’s shadows stir restlessly, but he forces them into submission.

“You’ve done well here,” Feyre says warmly, her gaze sweeping over the garden. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.” Your smile is genuine, though it doesn’t quite reach Azriel. “Helion has been… generous with his trust.”

“And with his emissary’s time,” Lucien adds, grinning at you. “She’s a natural. Can’t imagine how Day Court managed before she arrived.”

The praise makes you duck your head slightly, a faint blush blooming across your cheeks. Azriel’s jaw tightens.

“Sounds like you’ve been keeping busy,” he says, his voice lower than usual.

Your eyes flick to him briefly before turning back to Lucien, but there’s something guarded in your expression. “I have. It’s been… fulfilling.”

The word stings more than it should.

—

Eventually, Feyre and Rhys drift away with Lucien, leaving you and Azriel alone amidst the golden flowers. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words.

“You’ve been… different,” he says finally, breaking the silence.

You glance at him, your arms folding across your chest. “Different how?”

He hesitates, searching for the right words. “Happier,” he admits.

The softness in his voice almost makes you falter, but you stand your ground. “I am,” you say simply.

His shadows curl around his feet, agitated. “You left so suddenly,” he says, his tone sharper now. “One day you were there, and the next you were… gone. No warning. No explanation.”

You raise an eyebrow, bitterness creeping into your voice. “I told you I needed space. I told all of you.” You pause for a second, staring at a cluster of white lilies. “Why does it matter now, Azriel?”

“Because I miss you,” he says, the words raw and unguarded. “We all do. But me… I—” He stops himself, jaw clenching.

You laugh softly, but it’s a hollow, bitter sound. “You miss me now? After I’ve finally started to find peace? After you’ve built a life with Gwyn?”

His shadows surge forward, brushing against your arm, but you shake them off. “Don’t do this, Azriel.”

“You’re my friend,” he says, and the words make your heart twist painfully.

You whirl to face him, your eyes blazing. “No. I was never just your friend, Azriel. I was your mate.”

The truth spills out before you can stop it, sharp and cutting. He freezes, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief.

“What?” His voice is barely a whisper.

You laugh again, a broken sound. “The Cauldron tied us together centuries ago, but you never felt it, did you? You never even noticed.”

His shadows pull back, retreating like they’ve been burned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it didn’t matter!” you snap, your voice rising. “You didn’t want me that way, Azriel. You never did. And I wasn’t about to force something on you that you didn’t feel.”

He stares at you, his usually stoic face cracking with something raw and uncertain. “I—”

But you shake your head, cutting him off. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve moved on.”

“You’ve moved on?” he echoes, his gaze flicking toward the direction Lucien went. His voice lowers, dangerous. “With him?”

“Yes,” you say firmly, though the word feels heavy. “Because he sees me, Azriel. He knows what it’s like to be unwanted. To feel second-best.”

The words are a dagger between you, and you can see the way they strike him, the way his shadows twist and writhe.

“Is that what you think?” he asks quietly, his voice breaking. “That you were second-best?”

Your throat tightens, but you refuse to back down. “I don’t think it. I know it.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The bond hums faintly in your chest, but it’s different now—fading, unraveling as you finally let go of the male who could never love you the way you deserved.

“I’m happy here,” you say softly, your voice steady. “And you… you have Gwyn. You have your life in Velaris. Let that be enough.”

Azriel doesn’t argue. He just stands there, his shadows a chaotic storm around him, as you turn and walk away.

This time, you don’t look back.

Aaannd scene XOXO ~

[gloomwitchwrites]

I would love to read an imagine of TF141 and what they’d do together with the reader on vacation and you can choose any destination of your choice! Hot topical to glaciers!

Thank you!

I could have gone spicy with this. The fact that I didn't is a testament to my self-control. While there is a little heat, most of this is just straight up fluff. It's all cuteness. Good feelings only. Pure comfort. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, fluff, flirting, kissing, mild suggestive themes, brief mention of alcohol

Word Count: 1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

The stars above you are white against the dark sky. The crisp, cool Pacific Northwest air sends a slight chill across your skin. A shiver passes over you, and you snuggle closer to John, seeking his warmth. He sighs contentedly, arm tightening as you press into his side. The swimming dock rocks softly, lulling you toward sleep.

It’s quiet out on the lake. No lights. No noise. It’s nice to get away from everything—to spend time with your husband that doesn’t involve home.

“I’m happy we came, John,” you sigh.

“You like the cabin?”

You nod. “It’s peaceful.”

John's lips lightly press against your temple. "I'm happy you joined me."

Whenever John leaves for a trip to the cabin, it’s almost always a hunting or fishing trip with his team. Even they need to cool off after a mission. But John didn’t ask them to come. He brought you to his favorite place.

His fingers lightly curve under your chin, tilting your head upward. Closing the distance, John greets you with a kiss that melts you down to your toes.

He smiles softly. “Up for a little swim?”

You laugh. “It’s a bit chilly. And it’s dark!”

John grins and then pushes up to his feet, removing his clothes until he’s down to absolutely nothing. His pale butt is on full display in the moonlight.

"John!" you protest, but he’s already diving in.

You sit up, startled, watching the rippling dark water. A beat, and then he resurfaces. “Join me.”

With heat rising in your cheeks, you follow his lead. You do not dive as gracefully.

As you resurface, treading water, John cozies up to your, reaching for you beneath the surface. Your legs wrap around his middle, the two of you silently floating under the stars. The water is cold but you hardly care. John is warm, and so are his kisses.

They are cute at first, little peaks that become deeper, making your core clench with anticipation. The chilly water is a distant thing in your mind. All you know is John, and this moment, and all the days you have ahead with him.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s hot in Miami. The beach is packed.

But Kyle is uncaring of the crowd, too busy with the remote-control toy excavator you bought him just for this beach trip.

“How’s the digging?” you ask, flipping a page in your book. You lounge under an oversized umbrella.

Kyle moves the joystick with his thumb. The yellow toy excavator picks up a chunk of sand and dumps it to the side. “I’m going to have the biggest hole on the beach.”

You nod, and lightly pat his shoulder, returning to your book.

There are a few minutes of silence between you before Kyle puts the remote control down and turns to look at you.

“What?” you prompt as Kyle continues to stare.

“I’m bored. Wanna go play mermaids in the ocean?”

Inserting the bookmark, you close your book and set it aside. “Absolutely I do.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’ve never done this before, Johnny.”

“I know, love. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Johnny holds your hands in his. "Being scared is nothing to be ashamed of."

Before you is a mountainous slope covered in snow. Plenty of people are already on it, descending to the bottom on skis and snowboards. Some are lightning fast with others meander slowly. It looks fun—really, it does—but this is completely new to you.

When Johnny said vacation in the Alps, you didn’t think this. You were imagining a fancy cabin with nice food, a hot tub in the snow, and steamy sex next to a roaring fire.

“I’ll hold on to you. The whole way down. We’ll do this together.”

“You won’t let me fall?”

Johnny’s gloved hands squeeze yours in reassurance. “It’s just the bunny hill.”

“For children. I’m not a child.” "Oh, aye. It's for wee ones. But also, for newbies. Besides, I'll be with ya." He winks. "Won't let anything happen."

"That is not reassuring," you mutter, the snowboard wobbling slightly under your feet.

Johnny is the only thing keeping you upright. He grips you tightly, completely at ease in the snow.

“Do you promise?” you ask.

Johnny releases one of your hands to move his goggles into place. He lightly taps his helmet against yours.

“Promise.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Her sisters are in Greece."

"You Brits like to steal everything."

Simon chuckles. "Throw a rock in here and you'd hit something that came from somewhere else."

He steps away from the statue, turning to move on to another. You follow him, trying to see what he sees.

“I wouldn’t take you for the museum type.”

"Why?" asks Simon, arching an eyebrow.

You gesture at him, and Simon snorts. “Fair point,” he replies, glancing down at himself. He looks more ready to jump on the back of a sportbike rather than tour a museum.

Simon moves on to a new statue, head titled slightly as he peers up at it. “I like museums. They’re calm. Quiet. I can take my time. No one needs me. No one expects anything from me.”

He says it so casually, but you hear the underlying sigh. There is something heavy beneath it. A weight he carries but you can’t identify what it may be.

“I can be here for hours,” he murmurs.

“So…no pub crawls?”

Simon attempts to stifle a laugh. “Love a good pub crawl. Johnny and I go on them all the time. He always thinks he can out drink me.”

“Does he?”

“Never,” grins Simon.

He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers. You slide your hand into his, the warmth of him chasing away your worry.

Simon pulls you in close, two of you leaving the statues behind.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[stevieschrodinger]

Eddie hasn't answered the phone in nearly two days which, post Chrissy, post Vecna, post end of the world (averted), post every thing, is a wholly unacceptable amount of time.

Steve does a round robin on the walkie; everyone suddenly realizes they haven't heard from him either. Steve volunteers to go over.

He raps on the front door of the little two bed place Wayne owns now, a little government recompense after they took the trailer away to study, or whatever. Also quite a bit of 'take the house and keep your mouth shut,' kind of thing, Steve figures.

Wayne looks tired when he opens the door, kinda droopy, which Steve knows means he's really tired. Like, holding form is becoming a smidge difficult kind of tired.

Steve slips in fast, 'sorry Wayne, Eddie's van wasn't at his place so I figured he was here,' which he must be, because Eddie's van is here, and not outside his shiny new trailer, 'he hasn't been answering the phone.'

'He's here kid but he's kind of...having a rest day?' Wayne hedges. He's bad at lying, just like Eddie, Steve knows something is up.

'Can I see him, just for a second? Just check all is good?' Wayne gets Steve's protective nature, after everything that happened, he knows Steve likes to look after his people. He also knows Steve can keep a secret, only Steve and Robin know about Eddie and Wayne's shape shifting ability - carrying Eddie out of the upside down, convinced Eddie was about to die, only to have Eddie's glittery insides do something wholly unexpected was...well, Steve knows, is the thing.

Eddie also wins at doing impressions, since he can actually turn into movie stars, and that's kind of cool. Steve always likes watching Eddie turn back into himself though, maybe because of the crush he's been nursing.

Wayne caves, and Steve knows it's bad when he finds Eddie in the bin. He's shimmery and silver, and nearly tipping out the edges. He sloshes a little when Steve walks in, 'hey man, you didn't even make it to the bath? You want me to tip you out?'

Nothing, but the overhang wave of Eddie goo turns, hanging over the far lip of the big trash can. Like Eddie just turned his back.

'Uhm. I just. I just wanted to check you were okay? You know? Everyone's kind of worried.'

Eddie ripples. Like a sigh.

Eddie sloshes out of the bucket, his form building upwards until Steve is standing in front of...Nancy? Wearing a torn Dio shirt and plaid sleep pants.

'Eddie...that's kind of weird man.'

'I know!'. He waves Nancy's arms around, ' I know okay! But I can't stop it!'

'What...you're stuck? As Nancy.'

'Kinda', Eddie hedges, his ability to lie as bad as Wayne's.

'What does that mean?'

Eddie huffs, and shifts again...into Farah Fawcett. He crosses her arms over his now ample chest.

'Eddie...what is going on?'

Eddie shifts again, the hot brunette from the horror movie they watched two weeks ago, Steve can't remember the actresses name. He remembers saying she's hot though.

'Steve just...I'm having some kind of crisis, okay. It's just a bit of a...block. Just give me a few days and I'll be right as rain.'. Heather Locklear explains.

'Eddie...come on man, there's clearly something up.'

'This is so embarrassing.'

'Just tell me, okay? It can't be anything that bad, I won't judge.'

'It can be that bad,' Michelle Pfeiffer whines from behind her hands.

'Eddie...I'm not leaving until you spill.'

'I really...like you...' which, coming from Olivia Netwon-John, probably fulfils some sort of fantasy for Steve, but he has to remind himself he's thrilled to hear it from Eddie, too. 'So now I'm stuck, trying to be someone you actually want.'

'I...oh.'

'Yeah.'

'Well, I really want Eddie. So does that fix it?'

Brooke Shields cocks her hip and rolls her eyes, 'Steve, I'm not doing this on purpose, I don't have any control right now, so I don't need an empty platitude-'

'Its not. I've had a crush on you for ages. I'm not going to kiss you when you look like someone whose not Eddie.'

Eddie slowly melts back into himself, 'you're not?' he asks weakly.

'Nope, I can now though-'

'I'm back!!!' Eddie runs his hands all over himself, disappearing into the bathroom, checking the mirror he shouts, 'it's me! I'm me again! Oh thank fuck! Do you know how stressful that was! Having big tits is hell on your back-'

Eddie rambles, and Steve waits patiently for him to remember they could be making out right now.

Your friend, a shapeshifter (a secret you've kept since childhood) hasn't answered your texts in days, so you head to their home. Upon arriving, you find that they're in the middle of an existential crisis; they can't remember how to turn back into their original, human form.

[thydungeongal]

That encounter joke Anon is wrong. Every 5e GM I've ever met went the route of "one fight per day oh my boss is already dead accutally he has 50 more hitpoints and now here's 2 more minions now the fight is properly exciting and dramatic" and the lack of a poker face meant we all knew.

How do you feel about that kind of rewriting, anyway?

For context, none of the GMs ever admitted to this on the LFG posts, or the pitches, etc.

I'm not opposed to it on principle. Ultimately I do think it's a bit like "oh so you're shifting the goalposts when it seems like the party is winning the encounter more easily than you think they should have," but ultimately that's just a maladaptive response to a different issue. Which is, once again, people trying to run D&D as a game it very much is not.

D&D isn't a game of epic bossfights where characters snatch victory from the jaws of defeat after an extended combat encounter. It can produce such encounters but they will usually emerge incidentally, not naturally. D&D is ultimately a game of attrition, of managing character resources through the course of an extended period, and even though D&D 5e's actual expectations of what an adventuring day is supposed to look like are whack D&D 5e does support a type of gameplay that relies on managing resources over an adventuring day much better than it does "a single epic setpiece encounter per day."

Because ultimately D&D is at its best when it's about weaponized player agency and system mastery, and in modern D&D this sometimes manifests as "the party knew they were going up against a lich so utilizing everything they know about liches they kicked that guy's ass in two turns." Now that would be really anticlimactic if the GM had set that encounter up as narrative culmination of a campaign that had been leading up to this moment for two years. But if you take it as "just one more encounter in the story of a bunch of assholes trying to grow stronger and more epic" then it's just a moment of those characters getting to flex for a moment.

Now of course adjusting the stats of a monster on the fly is sort of a problem in that it goes against the game and thus undermines player expression within the game. When the group pulls off a cool trick that immediately deals a million points of damage to the dragon's dick and you say "oh actually the dragon had two million hit points" then you're ultimately undermining player expression. I don't think this makes someone a bad GM because the motivation behind it is usually to provide a more entertaining experience for the group, but it is a sign of a GM fighting against the system and not knowing what it does, and they and their group would probably be better served by another game. And given that players won't necessarily know that happened it maintains the illusion that the game does produce that type of encounter.

My advice? As a GM, be honest: "hey, I didn't think you all would one-shot that boss. Are you okay if we add a bit more HP to that thang?" And if this is a consistent issue of the game not producing the type of experience the group wants they should ultimately look for a different game.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Part One

Eddie walked through the door of Robin's bedroom cautiously.

"I don't know why I assumed that you'd be taking me to your house when you said that you're taking me home," Eddie said. "Silly me."

"I did tell you that house was my parents' house," Steve said, following him in.

"So, why aren't we there?" He asked.

"Because the bios are in town," Robin said.

"Bios?" Eddie asked.

"My biological parents," Steve replied.

"Yeah, I was wondering about them. I was starting to think they don't exist," Eddie said.

"They basically don't," Robin said and pointed to a pile of pillows by the window. "Especially in Steve's life."

"That sucks," Eddie said as he plopped onto the pillows with Robin and Steve.

"Their loss. Our gain," Robin grinned.

Melissa Buckley popped her head through the door. Eddie had met her at the door. She was very mellow and sweet. She didn't even give him the stink eye when he walked in. Instead, she hugged him and welcomed him right into her home.

"Oh, does anyone need any snacks?" Melissa asked.

"Oh, no, we're good, Mombie, thank you," Robin said.

"Oh, Steve, your room is still all set up, but I'm afraid Snuffles has been occupying it lately," she replied.

"Thanks, Mombie," Steve said.

"Are you alright with us being in here?" Eddie asked.

"Of course, I am," she laughed.

"Oh, she now knows all about me being a lesbian," Robin said.

"You're -"

"I don't know why she was so worried. She knows we're all about the love," Melissa said. "And the fact that in the early days of our marriages, we branched out with other people."

"You never said it was men and women, mother!" Robin exclaimed, rolling her eyes and smiling.

"Oh, your uncle should know, Eddie," Melissa said. "He was one of my lovers."

"What?!" Eddie shrieked.

"Oh, and he was excellent, too," Melisss sighed. "Really good with his hands - "

"Gah!" Eddie yelped and plugged his ears with his fingers. "Lalalalalala! I'm not listening!"

"You're scarring, Eddie, mombie," Robin said.

"Oh, I'll let you three to it, then," Melissa said and closed the door behind her.

"Okay, what the hell?" Eddie asked. "You know, I was okay with assuming that my uncle was basically a monk."

"How prude of you, Eddie," Robin cooed.

"You're a lesbian?" Eddie asked.

"Hm, I thought you knew," Robin said.

"Nope!" Eddie exclaimed.

"So, you don't know about either one of us?" Steve asked.

"You're a lesbian, too?" Eddie grinned.

"No, bisexual," Steve scoffed.

"Pardon?" He asked.

"I like men and women," Steve said, and then he turned to Robin. "I was pretty sure that he knew."

"Maybe the woman at the bar was wrong about flagging," Robin replied.

"I don't know. She seemed to know what she was talking about," Steve replied. "And I thought for sure that Eddie was flirting with me."

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Eddie asked. "By the way, I'm cool with it all. . ."

"There's no way. . .no one calls someone "big boy" like that, and they're not flirting," Robin said.

"Maybe it's one of those situations," Steve whispered. "We should probably stop talking about it."

"Oh, hey, since it's your first time here, you get to pick the music," Robin said, pointing to her cassettes.

"Ooh, don't mind if I do," Eddie said and pulled the box closer to him. "Ooh. You got Bob Dylan. My mom was a fan."

"She had great tastes," Robin said and smiled when Eddie popped it in.

"Okay, what next?" Eddie asked.

Steve grinned and moved to his feet. He slowly began to untie Eddie's shoes before moving just as slowly to take them off. He kept the same pace when he took his socks off, keeping eye contact with Eddie.

"Seriously?" Robin sighed.

"What are you guys going to do to me?" Eddie asked, swallowing.

Robin rolled her eyes and pulled out a box.

"Pick a color, dingus," Robin said.

"Oh! You're painting my toenails," Eddie said.

"Well, you said that you wanted to know what we did when it's just the two of us," Robin said.

"Okay, can I do red and black?" Eddie asked.

"Of course," Steve said and began work on Eddie's feet.

"So, you two consider yourself like brother and sister?" Eddie asked as he took a magazine from Robin.

"Oh, no, that would ruin the plan," Robin said.

"We're basically platonic fiancées," Steve said.

"Well, almost fiancées," Robin said. "We're going to slowly manipulate Steve’s dad into giving us money for a wedding. We're going to take the money and give it to a worthy cause. We might just end up getting married for the hell of it, platonically, of course, but it's going to be the cheapest wedding ever. His dad would hate it."

"Mombie was against the plan at first," Steve said.

"And then she met his parents," Robin said. "Both of my parents are on board."

"As well as Claudia and Sue," Steve said.

"They meet up to discuss it, but they mostly just drink sangrias," Robin said. "And talk about. . .well, I don't know what they talk about."

"Jesus, are your parents really that bad?" Eddie asked as he flipped through the magazine.

"Yes," Steve and Robin said.

"Well, if you need any help, I'm your man," Eddie said, flashing his dimples.

"You know what would make your doe eyes pop?" Robin asked. "Eyeliner."

Eddie looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging.

"Alright."

"Yes!" Robin exclaimed and began to apply it.

"This magazine is really informative. Hey, Steve, do you mind me asking how you knew you were bisexual?" Eddie asked.

Robin had to stop applying the eyeliner because she suddenly started shaking with giggles.

"I don't mind it all - Robin, stop laughing!" Steve yelled and then sighed. "Well, apparently, it's just not very straight to practice kissing and practice having sex with a guy friend."

"Okay, well, I get the sex thing, but practice kissing with friends. . .doesn't everyone do that?" Eddie asked.

"No, and also like it? Also, no," Steve said.

"Oh, well. . ." Eddie said and looked away, thoughtfully, blushing, then he grinned. "Hell, I think I might be like you after all, big boy."

"One of us, one of us, one of us!" Robin and Steve chanted.

"You guys are freaks, I love it," Eddie laughed.

"Oh, Edward, you have no idea," Robin said.

"Should we?" Steve asked.

"Oh, I think we should," Robin said. "Eddie, do you want to be initiated into our coven?"

"Coven?" Eddie asked.

"We're wiccans," Steve grinned.

"Yeah, sure, why the fuck not?" Eddie laughed.

"Ooh! I get to try out my spell!" Robin exclaimed, clapping her hands. "And your potions and runes, Steven!"

The next thing, Eddie knew he was kneeling in the middle of Robin's room, surrounded by candles and very shirtless. Robin and Steve were both wearing black robes. Steve was kneeling in front of Eddie, painting runes on Eddie's chest and arms.

"We're kind of just making this shit up as we go along," Steve told Eddie.

"Obviously, that's clearly a dick you just painted," Eddie said, and Steve giggled.

The door opened, and Robert Buckley entered the room. Robin, Steve, and Eddie stared at him. He stared back. He set a fire extinguisher on Robin's desk.

"I thought I smelled smoke," Robert said. "Have fun."

"Thanks, Daddy," Robin and Steve said.

Just before he closed the door, Snuffles the orange tabby slipped onto the room.

"What's a Wiccan initiation without a cat?" Eddie asked with a grin.

Steve pulled out his potion. He pulled Eddie's hair back into a bun and started dabbing the potion behind his ears and on his throat. It smelled like heaven. He paused and glanced at Eddie's lips. Steve grinned before putting the potion on his own lips. Eddie stared at him in confusion. Steve cupped his face and kissed him, spreading the potion onto Eddie's lips. It also tasted like heaven. Steve tasted like heaven. Eddie let out a noise of disappointment as Steve pulled back.

"Woah! Head rush. Was that you or the potion?" Eddie asked. "What is that stuff?"

"You have to be a higher level to unlock that information," Steve said.

"Damn."

"That was completely unnecessary," Robin said and then grinned. "I can't wait until we're platonically married so I can call Eddie a whore for sleeping with my husband. It's going to be so dramatic."

Steve stood next to Robin as she opened her notebook, and they took each other's hands. Together, they started chanting in Latin. And when it was done, Steve happily wiped off the runes off Eddie's chest before presenting him with a temporary robe with promises of taking him out to pick out his own. In the meantime, Eddie was wearing Steve’s pink bathrobe. The three of them sat on Robin's window sill, hanging their feet outside. Robin and Steve sat on either side of Eddie.

"Do you think there are a lot more people like us out there in Hawkins?" Eddie asked.

"Definitely," Steve and Robin said, looking at him.

Eddie laid his head on Steve’s shoulder and intertwined their fingers. There came a sudden breeze, whipping through their hair. They smiled. They definitely felt magic in the air.

[aurumalatus]

two.

a short series in which you share a multitude of kisses with childhood friends to lovers!kinich over your lifetime.

your bedroom feels overwhelmingly hot.

the a/c is on, you know because your curtains are billowing from the cool air pooling from the vent underneath them. summers are always this warm, when the humidity grows high and sweat sticks to your skin in layers.

kinich is laying on your bed, fanning himself with a stray magazine he had plucked from your nightstand. on days like these, it's too hot for you to even make the walk to the park down the street, or to the skatepark. you'd be drowning in sweat before you made it there, you're sure.

"so you've never kissed anyone?"

you don't even really remember how the conversation started. all you know is that the two of you had been talking about things you'd never done before, and you'd arrived at this. the girls in the locker room had been discussing it—their first kiss—including who it was with and what it was like.

the mere thought makes you gnaw at your lip, tension filling the room.

"...have you?" you reply, glancing over to your best friend. he doesn't seem nearly as bothered by the subject matter as you are.

"nope. i don't really care though," he sighs, which is so typical of him, you think. unlike you, kinich cares very little what the other kids in your grade think of him.

but you care, and you're starting to worry that you're falling behind in that...developmental area. you've managed to deflect any questions about the topic from the other girls in your class, but you fear that you won't be able to keep it up for long.

kinich sits up, shuffling forward on your bed to stare at where you sit on the ground. his gaze is inquisitive, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable.

"but let me guess," he starts, tossing his makeshift fan aside, "you care."

as always, he has you all figured out. after a moment of hesitation, you nod.

"i do. i know it's lame, but i feel like the other girls will think i'm..."

"a prude?"

you sigh. "something like that."

another moment passes before kinich is crawling off the bed, sitting cross-legged before you. his proximity makes the heat worse, but you don't hate it.

"alright," he shrugs, scooting closer. "then i'll kiss you, and you can tell everyone it was me."

you flinch in alarm, head knocking against the drawer of your wooden dresser. kinich's eyes widen, hands already outstretched toward you, but you interrupt him with your own spluttering.

"wh-what?! what are you talking about? you can't just do that!"

he tilts his head. "why not? is it because you're embarrassed for it to be me?"

"no!" you defend instantly. you'd never be embarrassed to be around kinich. "but...don't you want it to be with a girl you actually like?"

"i do like you."

you shake your head. you know what he means, but you were implying a different kind of like. still, the thought of sharing your first kiss with kinich isn't...awful. it's a bit comforting to share it with someone you trust, even moreso when you know that he hasn't done it before either.

finally, after thinking on it a bit more, you nod firmly.

"okay."

kinich raises a brow. "okay?"

and then he's leaning in, and you don't know whether to close your eyes or leave them open. you're trying to remember every teen romance movie you've ever watched after your mother went to bed, but your memory fails you. but he's already so close, and you rush forward a little too fast and—

your lips bump together clumsily, and you wince at the feeling. it's weird, certainly, and you're honestly not sure if you're doing it right at all. you can feel kinich's lashes brushing against your skin, and the feeling makes you shiver.

it's chaste, so brief that it's over before it even really registers in your mind that it happened. your mind is racing by the time kinich pulls away, and you find yourself meeting his eyes far too quickly.

his gaze is warm. "that okay?"

you nod, wondering what the blooming feeling in your chest could mean.

"yeah," you reply, swallowing thickly. "it was okay."

[daisymbin]

32. "hold my hand—just until we get there, okay?" with dk 🥺🤏🏽❤️

oh my god i can so picture this 😭 this is so him!!!

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // seokmin's m.list

fluff prompt #32: "hold my hand—just until we get there, okay?"

"come on, it’ll be fun!" jeonghan’s voice rang out as he gleefully dragged you and seokmin toward the entrance of the horror-themed escape room. beside you, seungkwan was already cackling, clearly enjoying the prospect of watching everyone else scream.

"fun for you, maybe," you mumbled, clutching your bag tightly as the eerie music from inside the room echoed through the hall.

"oh, don’t be so dramatic," jeonghan teased, holding the door open like a villain welcoming his victims. "besides, you’ve got seokmin to keep you safe."

you glanced at seokmin, who was looking just as nervous as you felt. "i wouldn’t count on that," he muttered, his attempt at a smile faltering.

"seokmin can’t even protect himself," seungkwan added with a laugh. "remember the carnival? the animatronic clown?"

"don’t remind me," seokmin grumbled. "that clown was a menace."

you couldn’t help but laugh despite your nerves, and seokmin caught your smile, relaxing a little. "hey," he whispered, leaning close, "we’ll stick together, okay?"

"yeah," you said softly. "okay."

the escape room was worse than you imagined—dim lighting, creepy mannequins, sudden crashes, and faint whispers that made the hairs on your neck stand on end. you stayed close to seokmin, gripping his sleeve as tightly as you dared.

"this way!" jeonghan called, his confidence annoyingly intact as he led the group deeper into the maze. "there’s a clue in here somewhere."

"or a jump scare," seungkwan muttered, smirking as he bumped into you just to hear you yelp.

"seungkwan!" you hissed, clutching seokmin’s arm even tighter.

"what? i’m just helping you prepare," he said, clearly enjoying your misery.

"you’re terrible," seokmin mumbled, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. "come on, let’s just focus on getting out of here."

by the time you reached the last room, your nerves were completely shot. the narrow corridor leading to the exit was filled with mannequins, their blank faces illuminated by a flickering light. you froze, unable to take a step forward.

"nope," you whispered, gripping seokmin’s arm. "i can’t do it. there's no way I'm going in there."

"you have to," jeonghan said, clearly amused. "it’s the only way out."

"we’re right behind you," seungkwan added, though his teasing tone didn’t help.

"you don’t understand," you muttered, feeling your chest tighten. "i can’t."

seokmin turned to you, his own fear momentarily forgotten. "hey," he said softly, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hand. "i’m scared too, but…" he hesitated, then gently took your hand in his. "hold my hand—just until we get there, okay? to the exit."

your breath hitched at the warmth of his hand around yours. you glanced up at him, his nervous smile giving you just enough courage to nod. "okay."

"we’ll do it together," he promised, squeezing your hand lightly.

with seokmin leading the way, you slowly navigated through the corridor. every flicker of the lights and creak of the floorboards made you flinch, but seokmin never let go of your hand. he even cracked a few nervous jokes, his awkward attempts at humor earning a weak laugh from you.

"you’re doing great," he said as you reached the final door. "see? not so bad."

"i hate this," you muttered, but you couldn’t deny the comfort of his presence. "but… thanks."

his ears turned pink at your words.

when you finally stepped outside into the cool night air, you let out a relieved sigh. jeonghan and seungkwan immediately started rehashing their favorite moments, laughing at how scared you and seokmin had been.

"you two were so cute in there," seungkwan teased. "holding hands like it was a date or something."

"shut up," seokmin mumbled, his face turning bright red.

"don’t be shy," jeonghan added with a smirk. "you guys make a great team."

"seriously, can we not?" seokmin grumbled, but his hand lingered near yours as if he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

"you okay?" you asked, ignoring the teasing to focus on him.

he met your gaze, his expression softening. "yeah. im just… i'm just i’m really glad i was with you."

you felt your cheeks heat up, but you managed a small smile. "me too."

jeonghan and seungkwan exchanged knowing looks before walking ahead, leaving you and seokmin behind.

"so," seokmin said after a moment, his voice quieter now. "maybe next time, we can do something less terrifying? just the two of us?"

your heart skipped a beat at the way he looked at you, his shy smile making it impossible to say no. "i’d like that."

his hand brushed against yours as you walked to the car, the warmth of it lingering long after he finally let go.

[reddpenn]

I got to play with some uranium ore today!

Video transcript:

Okay, so here's something cool! This is a piece of uranium ore. This is not a piece from my collection, this is actually a piece from a collection that I'm getting to view here. Very neat! So yeah, that's uranium right there.

You might hear some clicks, and that is my geiger counter, so we're going to test how radioactive this uranium is. So this is just the base atmospheric radiation that's in this room. And let's see what happens when we get it next to that uranium.

Aw, there it goes!

Yeah, I'd say that's radioactive.

And for anyone concerned, this is still completely within reasonable dosage limits. Obviously you don't want to, like, eat this, or have it next to your skin for extended periods of time, but it is perfectly safe for me to, you know, pick up and handle.

It's giving off... what is it giving off? Let's let it tick up here and see what it gets to. About five microsieverts? It can probably go a little higher, we've clocked it a little higher before.

Eh, about five and a half microsieverts.

So again, completely safe for me to handle. But measurably very radioactive! So that's a very cool piece that I got to view today. I think it would be fun to have some of this in my collection at some point. Maybe I'll see if I can get the owner to sell it to me! Here's hoping.

Anyway, I just thought that was cool and wanted to share!

[flightyalrighty]

…I find it lowkey weird when someone says Sonic is bit of bully or mean in your comic.

I know you have him take after Archie and Fleetway, but he feels normal to me?

Or is it because I grew up with Sonic media that had him being abrasive that I got used to it..?

This image of being this -perfectly nice- hedgehog that people get from him kinda makes me wonder constantly, do you know how he was back then?

Would you perceive him the same way if you gotten to known him a bit later excluding the older comics?

SEGA has kept a few things consistent with Sonic and one of them being he was always this dude with an attitude. for better or for worse. That didn't mean he didn't care for anyone, it's just part of who he is. Once you can see past that, you know that despite his meanness, he's a solid guy that means well.

(I got a few asks in a short span of time so I hope I'm lining up the correct follow-up with the original here)

So! Okay. So, here's the thing about Sonic and his whole "attitude" thing. These days, canonically, it's kinda non-existent? Sonic's personality got sandpapered (in the games) until it was nice and smooth for the past, uhhh, like deca -- No, not even. I think he's actually been like this since 2005.

Like sure, he'll make a few lame jokes at Eggman's expense in the Meta Era but like. He's a ray of sunshine to everyone else (besides that one thing they got rid of in the Sonic Gens "remaster" with Amy). He's not even GENUINELY mean to Knuckles the way he used to be. There is no actual beef there, it's really just friendly banter he's having with his friends.

Even more about this below cut vvv

The main sources of Sonic Attitude™ I ever experienced growing up was that little itty bit left within Sonic Heroes and MOSTLY just Archie Sonic (and some STC Online reading I did as a kid) and Sonic X. Make no mistake, Sonic definitely had a range of "Attitude" to "Asshole" in those works. It just wasn't present in the games. So if you were a kid growing up and only knew Sonic FROM the games, that so-called attitude was gonna be minimal if you're age 30 or under.

And any attitude he gave would be only to people he perceived to be enemies (or Jet the Hawk).

Jump forward in time to the end of the Meta era, and we've come to a point in which Sonic is very nice. He's everyone's cool big brother. He's a "friend to all children." The perfect role model. He's very nice in Sonic Prime. In IDW, some fans would even argue he's TOO nice. TOO forgiving. To this I say, it is what it is. I just don't believe Sonic's mean-ness level is all that consistent. Perhaps someday we'll see that attitude again. Perhaps.

Now, to finally address your initial comment: I am the one who says this. I am the one who says he is mean in Infested. And! That's because he's written that way.

This isn't modern nice Sonic, but this also isn't Attitude Guy from the 90s/early 2000s. This is a secret third thing. And by that I mean he's an amalgamation of STC Sonic and Archie Sonic. He's done a lot of learning and growing and he doesn't want to hurt his friends, but his first instinct is harsh, snippy commentary or outright lashing out. He has learned and has to bury that horrible little monster inside him. For Tails's sake.

[demon-country]

#wiggles hands #i personally think that stolas had it wrong because even before blitzø started yelling #stolas thought blitzø didnt feel the same and immediately ditched as opposed to like?? giving him a fucking minute to process?? not cool??? #like yes the trauma response about being yelled at and setting boundaries and all that. thats fine #but Why stolas did you Immediately leave it wasnt even a rejection he just didnt Understand #give him a Fucking SECOND!!?? #which is smth blitzø also yells abt in full moon iirc! bc like DUH!!??? #and there IS power imbalance in the way stolas just tosses blitzø outside via teleportation. #it DOES imply he thinks little of blitzø In That Moment bc hes 'seeing his abuser' #but like... he would not teleport stella outside like that. even when he asserted his boundaries w her he NEVER did that shit #it WAS disrespectful to blitzø. it was. and the immediate dismissiveness the next morning obv didnt fuckin help #cuz blitzø immediately went on the defensive and like yeah he said horrible shit but FUCK DUDE he didnt instigate it! #like yeah stolas doesnt have to sit there and take it EXCEPT HES THE ONE WHO FUCKING INITIATED THE ISSUE? SO YES HE KIND OF DOES HAVE TO#HEAR BLITZØ OUT AND SIT THERE?? #puts my head in my hands. #and all the ppl talking abt ou well its stolas' house so he gets to portal blitzø out! #you are a fucking dick? you cant spring a huge relationship change on somebody and then run off and act the hurt party when they havent even #processed it yet! and then KICK THEM OUT when they understandably get ANGRY at you dismissing them? and HELLO. STOLAS DISMISSES BLITZØ.#HES NOT ONE OF YOUR SERVANT IMPS DUDE! HELLOOOO?????? #idk idk idk like stolas was definitely going through it but HOLY SHIT you guys cant be serious when you say it was equal on both sides #when theres a very obvious clear systemic power imbalance. like youre FUCKING WITH ME?? you cant be serious rn.

Wow. This... sure is a lot of extremely bad faith misinterpretations of those scenes. I'm going to address all of this step by step, I guess, because my dude, you are wildly off the mark on basically everything you accused Stolas of. So I hope you're ready, because this reply is going to be very long.

"#i personally think that stolas had it wrong because even before blitzø started yelling #stolas thought blitzø didnt feel the same and immediately ditched as opposed to like?? giving him a fucking minute to process?? not cool??? #like yes the trauma response about being yelled at and setting boundaries and all that. thats fine #but Why stolas did you Immediately leave it wasnt even a rejection he just didnt Understand #give him a Fucking SECOND!!?? #which is smth blitzø also yells abt in full moon iirc! bc like DUH!!???"

Yeah no, Stolas had every right to walk away, and was 100% justified in doing so. Maybe it wasn't entirely fair to Blitz, because on his end of things it looked totally different, but you already seem to understand what it looked like from Blitz's pov, so since we're talking about whether they equally fucked up or not, then I want you to step back from that and think about how it looked to Stolas, too.

Blitz did not respond to Stolas' confession with "hold the fuck on" or "what the fuck?" or "what do you mean?", nor did he do literally anything at all to suggest that he was confused or needed a moment to process what Stolas was saying. Blitz's immediate, snap reaction was to go "ohhh, okay you're fucking with me! This is an interesting roleplay, never done this one before but I can get into it. 'Ohhh, Stolas, I'll stay with you~! I love you sooo much~!'"

Perhaps you've never experienced this, but let me assure you that it is soul-crushingly awful to confess something important to you to someone you trust, only for them to completely write it off as a joke and/or make fun of you for it. It's extremely humiliating and feels like a deep betrayal, because you trusted them and were vulnerable with them, and in return all you got was mockery.

I've asked a number of real life actual people who have all, without fail, said that if that happened to them they'd end the conversation right there and walk away. Most of them, including me, said they'd leave just so they could go cry in private, and one said that they'd basically say "fuck you" and leave because they were pissed off. Stolas was the former. Take a moment to really, genuinely think about what your own reaction would be to having someone you love and trust make fun of you after you confess something important and vulnerable. It doesn't have to be a love confession, mine certainly wasn't, but do you honestly think you'd want to stick around after that?

So Stolas would have been justified in walking away just from that. He was very kind as he took his leave too and tried to bow out as gracefully as he could without causing a fuss, which is made all the more impressive because Blitz unintentionally triggered Stolas' trauma with the roleplay bit. Stolas has lived with Stella for 18 years at this point in the timeline, and part of how she abused him was humiliating him and mocking his feelings. He hides it decently well with Stella, because he's had decades of practice at this point, but we see in Ozzie's that being humiliated, especially in public, is a trauma landmine that Blitz tripped right onto. Yeah, he's going to leave, and it's not a fault that he does.

Moreover, you'll notice that Stolas doesn't kick Blitz out here or tell him to leave. He walks away further into the house, and yes he's probably expecting that Blitz will take it as an opportunity to bounce, but he does not tell him to go. Blitz could have waited as he took the moment he needed and thought things over, and then talked and asked whatever questions he needed to after Stolas came back. It was his bedroom and it was midnight, it's not like Stolas wasn't going to come back within the next couple of hours. Or Blitz could have left, thought things over, and come back. Instead, he followed after Stolas, which wasn't a great feeling for either of them, because Stolas was only barely staving off a breakdown and Blitz was getting hit in that abandonment trauma all over again, but Stolas walking off scared him so he acted on the impulse to not let Stolas get away. 

And he started off fine! Even though he was basically chasing Stolas, he wasn't angry or anything. He asked "wait, you were serious?! Hold on now, Stolas. What the fuck?" and Stolas did his best to answer even as he kept walking, rather than telling him to go away or kicking him out. His answer was poorly worded though and it set Blitz off, which is when we get to your next point.

#and there IS power imbalance in the way stolas just tosses blitzø outside via teleportation. #it DOES imply he thinks little of blitzø In That Moment bc hes 'seeing his abuser' #but like... he would not teleport stella outside like that. even when he asserted his boundaries w her he NEVER did that shit #it WAS disrespectful to blitzø. it was.

???? How on earth did you reach this conclusion?? Of course Stolas would never teleport Stella outside like that. That's not respect, that's fear. It took everything he had to stand up to Stella the way he did, which we know because he collapsed as soon as she was gone. He was terrified of her; he was backing away while she approached and knew she was about to hit him. He was fighting back, yes, but you can tell from her reaction that he almost never has in the past. It had nothing to do with respecting her, because his normal response seems to be either standing there silently taking the abuse or shrinking in on himself while trying to placate her.

As for what happened in the ballroom, Stolas was triggered for the second time in just a handful of minutes, this time by Blitz slamming open the door and yelling. It says absolutely nothing about how much Stolas does or does not respect him that these actions triggered a trauma response in Stolas. Trauma doesn't work like that. Anyone doing that to Stolas would have made him panic, because when you're experiencing a traumatic reaction, even if you're somewhere safe with someone you implicitly trust, your brain freaks the fuck out.

It was in no way disrespectful to kick Blitz out, it was just Stolas going into extreme Flight mode. Blitz wasn't letting him leave and at the end even ran towards him (to apologize, but Stolas had no way of knowing that and Blitz was already half out the portal before he started to say sorry and didn't even finish it. Also, you hear Stolas very faintly saying he's sorry before the portal closes), of course he's going to force Blitz out! He didn't want a fight with Blitz like he had with Stella, because he wasn't angry, he just wanted to be alone.

"and the immediate dismissiveness the next morning obv didnt fuckin help #cuz blitzø immediately went on the defensive and like yeah he said horrible shit but FUCK DUDE he didnt instigate it! #like yeah stolas doesnt have to sit there and take it EXCEPT HES THE ONE WHO FUCKING INITIATED THE ISSUE? SO YES HE KIND OF DOES HAVE TO#HEAR BLITZØ OUT AND SIT THERE??"

No, he really, really does not have to sit there and hear Blitz out. Stolas made it very clear in actual words that he did not want to see Blitz right then, because he was feeling too raw so soon after everything and Blitz was not giving him any space to breathe. And Blitz, once again, did not leave. He also, you'll notice, didn't force Blitz to leave, he just asked him to go, because this time he wasn't outright panicking. And even then, he kept giving Blitz chances to talk things out with him, showing that he wasn't dismissing Blitz.

Also, you're really telling me that you think a victim of domestic violence should be forced to stick around when someone is yelling at them? It doesn't matter if he "initiated things", that doesn't mean he's going to okay when someone starts grabbing and yelling at him. If Blitz was being calmer about it, and wasn't continually intentionally mocking Stolas and his feelings throughout that conversation (which, again, big trigger for Stolas, he's just hiding it better now because he was braced for it. Note that he's reacting a lot like he did when Stella was mocking him at the party) then I might agree with you. If Stolas had actually instigated the garden scene by telling Blitz to come over and then refused to listen while Blitz tried to explain, that'd be super fucked up. But Stolas didn't ask Blitz to come over, explicitly told him to leave because it hurt to much to talk to him right then, and Blitz was not being calm. Blitz was self-destructing and was being both clingy and aggressive, because he was scared of losing Stolas but was even more terrified of being vulnerable, and he habitually masks his fear with anger.

"#puts my head in my hands. #and all the ppl talking abt ou well its stolas' house so he gets to portal blitzø out! #you are a fucking dick? you cant spring a huge relationship change on somebody and then run off and act the hurt party when they havent even #processed it yet! and then KICK THEM OUT when they understandably get ANGRY at you dismissing them? and HELLO. STOLAS DISMISSES BLITZØ."

Buddy. Dude. Stolas didn't actually spring this on Blitz. Blitz literally says at the beginning of the episode that he's been avoiding Stolas because he knows Stolas wants to talk, and he doesn't want things to become complicated. He knows things will change as soon as he actually talks to Stolas and that freaks him out, because in his mind it can't possibly be something good, and this fear is exacerbated by what Loona told him. He literally tells Fizz that Stolas does things to show he likes him, and multiple people have flat out told Blitz that he does, and Blitz can't believe that for multiple reasons, but this entire thing has been building up for months and he knows it. 

Stolas also did not spring his "feelings bullshit" on Blitz either, despite what Blitz claimed. It might have felt like it, because up until then he was in complete denial of those feelings being genuine, but Stolas has not been subtle, by any means. He has, in his and everyone else's minds, been showing Blitz that he cares about him at the very least as a friend, since this whole thing started. Even in fucking Loo Loo Land, despite him awkwardly trying to flirt with Blitz a couple of times, he doesn't actually try to start anything while they're there. He doesn't even seem to expect something sexual to happen between them at all, because he says he wants Blitz and his employees to come and immediately offers to pay Blitz with money, rather than sexual favors like Blitz anticipated. He's using it as an excuse to hang out with Blitz - because he's an idiot who didn't think about how uncomfortable it'd be for literally everyone involved, especially Octavia - and Blitz even knows that because he knows Stolas doesn't actually need one bodyguard, let alone three.

He invited all of them to the harvest moon festival because he thought it'd be fun, again with no expectation of anything sexy happening. He came to rescue I.M.P. with no ulterior motive, he just wanted to help them. He didn't ask for or suggest that he wanted sex in return for the save either, he just asked for a thank you in a very pouty voice because none of them thanked him, and Blitz turned things sexual, which he was happy to follow the lead on. He was super excited for the date, dressed up super fancy, proudly walked into Ozzie's holding Blitz's hand, tried over and over to talk to Blitz because he thought it was a real date, stood up to defend Blitz from Verosika (which Blitz didn't see and which he didn't get to follow through on, because Ozzie took that chance to go on the attack and publicly humiliate him), and even after that disaster he still invited Blitz in solely to hang out and maybe cuddle a bit.

He would ask Blitz to stay the night after they were done having sex instead of just kicking him out, which we see in the memory fragments. He called Blitz on the regular just to talk about his day and was frequently interacting with him on social media, both for approximately a year and a half. He was oblivious to how condescending his attempts at flirting were and had no idea how demeaning it was for Blitz until Blitz finally showed him how much all that hurt him (after Ozzie's), but he only was acting like that and talking that way because he genuinely believed that it was what Blitz wanted and was into, based on their first night together (doesn't excuse it, of course, but it was another way he was desperately trying to show how much he wanted Blitz).

For close to two years by the time The Full Moon rolled around, Stolas has been trying very hard and kind of ineptly to show Blitz he likes him, and at the very least wants to be real friends with him (that also have sex). Literally everyone who has seen them together knows how much Stolas likes Blitz, including Blitz despite him being in denial of it. He has tried again and again and again for nearly two years to show Blitz he cares about him and wants him around, and Blitz - for understandable reasons given his own trauma, history, biases, and hangups - has rejected him time and again. That's why Stolas was expecting Blitz to reject him following his confession. He expected Blitz to tell him to fuck off or to just take the crystal and run without looking back, but he didn't expect to be (unintentionally) mocked. He didn't expect Blitz, who he trusted, to humiliate him. Even without the trauma he has surrounding that, after all the other rejections of course Stolas is going to take Blitz mocking him as another rejection. He didn't think Blitz was confused, because he thinks he's made his feelings pretty damn clear for ages now, and that's why he said he had his answer and was trying to leave before he started crying - which most people hate to do, because crying in front of other people is often a mortifying experience.

"STOLAS DISMISSES BLITZØ.#HES NOT ONE OF YOUR SERVANT IMPS DUDE! HELLOOOO?????? #idk idk idk like stolas was definitely going through it but HOLY SHIT you guys cant be serious when you say it was equal on both sides #when theres a very obvious clear systemic power imbalance. like youre FUCKING WITH ME?? you cant be serious rn"

He wasn't dismissing Blitz. He super fucking did not. He wanted to be alone so he could go cry his guts out, and Blitz was scaring him by getting angry and slamming open doors. That's not dismissing someone, that's going into panic mode. He wasn't treating him like a servant, if he was he would have been bored and unaffected and told him to go. He. Was. Scared. He was hurt and humiliated and scared and Blitz was chasing him down and yelling at him. It's not playing the victim to be scared and it's not playing the victim when your feelings get mocked and you want to get away from the person who just stomped all over your heart.

Blitz's reactions make sense from his end, and absolutely he was being triggered too - he was in fact the one triggered first, though that too was by accident. Yes, his anger was justified and he had every right to express it when he felt he wasn't being listened to. Yes, he wasn't intending to scare Stolas. Yes, Stolas has messed up and hurt Blitz in numerous ways over the course of the series. But my god, that does not mean that Stolas' feelings and reactions are any less justified and reasonable.

It was equal on both sides. They both equally fucked up. They both accidentally hurt and triggered each other. They both were scared. Stolas sending Blitz away was the only thing he could think of to de-escalate the situation, because Blitz was actively trying to pick a fight and Stolas had no idea that Blitz would stop just because he started crying (you think anyone else has ever stopped just because he cried? We literally see both Stella and Paimon mock him for it, and Stolas isn't exactly in a rational sort of mindset here).

Are you really, honestly, truly telling me that you would be fine just standing there and letting someone who just hurt you scream at you in a way that reminded you of both your domestic abuser and the person who recently tried to murder and mutilate you? Are you kidding me? You have completely misinterpreted everything Stolas has said and done in those two episodes by refusing to look at it with any amount of sympathy or compassion and immediately jumping to the worst possible scenario.

"Stolas shouldn't have portalled out Blitz during Full Moon" this and "Stolas should have stuck around and listened to Blitz in the garden during Apology Tour" that. Do y'all not realize how it sounds to demand that a domestic abuse victim stick around when someone is yelling at and insulting them? And on the flip side of that, do the other half of y'all not realize how it sounds to demand that someone, particularly someone from an oppressed group, never get loud or demonstrably angry just because it might scare someone?

Like Blitz had every right to air his grievances in Full Moon, and being angry when you're treated poorly is a perfectly normal, reasonable response. It's not inherently abusive to yell and stomp when you get mad, and it's completely unreasonable to say that Blitz is just because he did. But at the same time, Stolas does not have to sit there and take being yelled at when he's already had to suffer though someone doing it to him maliciously for at least 17 years. He does not have to take being grabbed, being screamed at, or having his clearly stated boundaries ignored either, like at the beginning of Apology Tour. Him getting upset when someone does that to him, when he's only just gotten away from his abuser and was almost murdered for it, is not some failing on his part or him playing the victim.

Blitz's trauma doesn't care that Stolas wasn't actually going to abandon Blitz, and it doesn't care that that the hurtful things Stolas has said and done have come largely from a place of ignorance rather than a lack of care. He's protecting himself the only way he knows how and is blinded by the sheer intensity and longevity of his self-loathing, but frankly it was a good thing for him to finally speak up about how some of the things Stolas does makes him feel, and it's a very good thing that he's actually trying to fight to keep Stolas rather than just booking it and throwing a grenade behind him on the way out.

Just like Stolas' trauma doesn't care if he knows Blitz is different than Stella and wouldn't actually hurt him, and it doesn't care that Blitz's anger comes from a hurt, scared, and traumatized place as opposed to the pleasure Stella took in hurting and scaring him. Stolas hasn't had any time to even begin to heal from the damage she did to him, and frankly if he's scared and breaking down like in Full Moon it's actually a step up if he's removing himself from whoever is triggering him, even if it wasn't fair to Blitz who was, in his own way, attempting to work things out.

Neither of them is the bad guy here, they're just very reasonably upset and having clashing trauma responses. You can be compassionate and understanding of both sides without saying that either of them should have to just sit there and take it when someone is greatly upsetting them. It's normal to get angry when you're scared and upset, and it's normal to cry and run away when you're scared and upset, and neither are wrong or bad just because in the moment when emotions were running high they each did several things that accidently set the other off, especially when they had no way of knowing it was a trigger beforehand.

None of this is say that the way things shook out was great or productive, and they definitely need to work on healing so that they're not letting their fear and trauma control them. If they're going to get to place of real understanding, then at some point these two need to sit down with the intent to talk things out and have an honest and open conversation with each other, without Blitz yelling or Stolas running or either of them letting their preconceived assumptions and biases get in the way of actually listening. Blitz needs to not self-sabotage and Stolas needs to not shut down, and that's going to be really fucking hard for both of them, because that's how they've been coping with their trauma for literal decades.

And to his major credit, Blitz got it right at the end of Apology Tour, the only thing he got wrong was the timing because Stolas was so drunk that I'll be honestly surprised if he remembers most of it in the morning. He wasn't in any state of mind to listen or pay attention, but at the same time, to his credit he's already been reflecting on what Blitz has been saying to him and trying to figure out where and how he fucked up and hurt Blitz. And also, he kept saying things like "right now", which means he will be ready to talk things out eventually if he's just given a little bit of space to put himself back together and think about things.

And guys, please. Just because some people will start crying to try to manipulate and guilt trip those around them whenever someone gets upset at something they did, doesn't make that what Stolas did. He was trying to get away so Blitz wouldn't see him cry. And just because some people like to fly off the handle and rage at every perceived infraction, doesn't make that what Blitz did. He had justifiable cause to be angry and in Full Moon he didn't think Stolas was listening, so he tried to make himself louder and bigger in an attempt to make himself be heard and his hurt be acknowledged. If one of their reactions made you uncomfortable, that's fine, there's nothing wrong with that. But the story isn't about those kinds of people, it's about two fictional demons who aren't trying to hurt or manipulate each other, they're just struggling to juggle trauma, ignorance, and the desire to be together. They're not able to yet, but that's what character arcs are for.

And just to head off any comments on it: no, the narrative is not villifying Blitz and it's not babying Stolas or trying to sweep any of the shit he's done under the rug. Blitz being angry and self-destructive doesn't make him a villain, and Stolas crying a few times and still being pretty ignorant of how he's come across doesn't mean they're trying to say he's done nothing wrong.

[allisluv]

Heya! I was wondering if you could do some Emily prentiss x readers please!!

I had an idea about reader finally leaving her abusive partner and Emily offering to take her on a date to show how she really suppose to be treated. With lots of cute and flirty moments and lots of reader being cute and confused with the affection. Could end in a sweet kiss moment or something!

But anything to do with Emily prentiss being loving and perfect 😂

Thank you x

i kissed a girl.

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!reader

content warnings: allusions to an abusive relationship, first dates, best friend!derek, emily being sweet and reader being confused by the affection. if there's anything else please let me know!

word count: 1.6k

Derek looks up as you collapse into a chair next to him in the round room. He arches a brow and shares a pointed look with Emily before slinging an arm around your shoulder and pulling his chair closer to you. "What's the face for, angel?"

You glare at him, but there's no mirth behind it, not really. "Daniel and I broke up." Derek's lips tip downward into a frown as he stares at you, waiting for an explanation. You huff out a sigh and elaborate. "He cheated on me."

Derek watches you carefully. "That bastard," he murmurs under her breath, just loud enough for you to hear. "I'll kill him. Just say the word and I'll have him six foot under in a split second. They'll never find the body."

You crack a smile at your best friend. "Thanks, but that's not necessary."

"Are you okay?" Emily asks from across the table. Her eyes are full of concern and sympathy as she analyses your every movement, the profiler in her coming out to play.

"I'm just glad to be rid of the asshole. I feel like I can finally breathe again," You admit.

Derek's frown deepens. "What's that supposed to mean?" He asks quietly. "Did he do something? Did he hurt you?"

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. "Look, I'm not talking about this, alright?" Derek's face drops and he lets go of you, suddenly hyperaware of how you may react to his touch. "I just want to forget it happened. I just want to move on."

Derek shares a look with Emily from across the table. She shakes her head, silently telling him to drop it and give you the space you so clearly crave at the moment. Hotch and the rest of the team file back into the round room and Derek watches as you pick up your pen, flicking it anxiously in between your fingertips.

Penelope starts to explain the details of the case and the team start to bounce ideas off of each other as Emily starts to form an idea in her head. Sure, it may be reckless, and there's a chance you may reject her proposition, but what's the harm in trying?

As you all disperse to get your go-bags, Emily runs in her high heels to catch up with you. She calls your name and is grateful when you stop at the bottom of the staircase for her. "Can I ask you something?"

You're wary, but you nod your head, anyway. "Go for it."

Emily juts her chin out defiantly to give herself an air of confidence, because despite her usual cool demeanour, her nerves are starting to get the better of her. "Do you want to go on a date with me when we get back from this case?" Your eyebrows shoot up your face and she rushes to explain. "I mean, you said you wanted to move on, but if I'm overstepping or I've jumped to the wrong conclusion and you think this is too soon, just let me know and I'll--"

"You wanna go on a date with me?" You ask incredulously, like the idea of someone wanting you for something other than your body is a foreign concept to you. "What's in it for you?" You realise your words have came out harsher than you intended and you wince. "Sorry, that came out wrong."

Emily brushes you off with a laugh. "You don't have to apologise, love." Your heart flutters in your chest at the petname. "But to answer your question, there's nothing in it for me apart from taking a pretty girl out for a night that shows her how she deserves to be treated."

You frown, still not catching her drift. "Is this a pity thing? Like, are you just asking me out because you feel bad for what I've been through or something?"

A crease appears between Emily's brows as she shakes her head. "No, it's nothing like that at all. I've liked you for a while but I knew you were in a relationship and I didn't want to make things awkward. It's definitely not a pity thing, I can tell you that much for free." You mull her words over in your head for a minute or two. Emily waits patiently for your answer, her palms damp with sweat. "You really wanna go on a date with me?" She nods. "Okay. Give me a day and a time and I'll be there."

Emily's face practically lights up like a god-damn Christmas tree. "You will?"

Her excitement is infectious and you can't help but grin back at her. "Yeah. I don't see why not. You never know, a date might lead to two might lead to three or who knows what else."

Emily smiles brighty and looks over her shoulder as Hotch calls out for the two of you, tapping his watch impatiently. She crosses to her desk at the bullpen and pulls her go-bag from underneath the desk. "Great. It's a date."

————————————————

You anxiously smooth out the creases in your black dress as you hear a knock on your apartment door. Quickly checking your reflection over in the mirror, you fix your hair and peek through the peephole to double-check who it is.

A bouquet of white roses are clutched in Emily's hand and she's dressed in a red dress and a matching pair of stilettos. Her face lights up when you open the door and her eyes rove over your form as you begin to overthink it. "Is it too much?"

Emily shakes her head fondly. "No, darling, absolutely not. You look gorgeous." The heat rushes to your cheeks at the compliment and she tries not to laugh at how cute you look. She thrusts the bouquet of roses into your open hands. "Here. These are for you."

You take the bouquet and set them on the coffee table in the hall. "Thank you. They're lovely." She offers you her hand and you take it, locking your door behind you as you leave your apartment block and slip into the passenger seat of her car. "So, where are we going?"

Emily turns the keys in the ignition and merges onto the road. "Well, love, I told you it's a surprise. But I promise you'll like it." She smiles. "There's a stack of CD's in the glove department. Feel free to put on whatever you like."

You tentatively sift through the music in the glove box and push a CD into the car's player. "This is my favourite."

"Mine too," Emily answers as the music drifts through the vehicle. She keeps the conversation flowing as she drives, and you slowly relax into your seat. For the first time in months, you feel at ease.

As your favourite Mexican restaurant comes into view, you can't help the smile from pulling at the corners of your lips. "I love this place. How did you know that?"

Emily chuckles to herself. "I pay attention, love. You said it one day when we were on a case together."

Your heart soars in your chest.

She kills the engine, tells you to stay put, and opens your door for you before steering you towards the restaurant with a hand on your lower back. You practically melt into her touch as she gives the hostess your name and the woman finds your booking.

Emily sits opposite you in the booth and shrugs off her leather jacket as the two of you skim through the menus. "Do you drink red or white? Or shall we get both?"

You hesitate. You're not used to being given options. "I'm easy. Whatever you like."

Emily arches a sharp eyebrow. "That's not what I asked, lovely. I asked what you like. Besides, I can't drink. I'm designated driver, remember?"

A small smile graces your features. "I like red. Thank you,"

The hostess comes back to your booth and takes your order.

As time passes, you loosen up and start talking more to Emily. You both chat about anything and everything; from your favourite things, to cases at work, to your childhoods to your most embarrassing moments in life.

When the bottle of wine is drunk and your plates are cleared, Emily practically wrestles your credit card out of your hand in order to pay the bill. You laugh at her confidence when she tells you that you can buy next time-- you like the idea of another date with her. The conversation continues on the car journey home and Emily insists on walking you to your apartment door.

"I had a nice night," You admit. "Thank you for dinner. And the flowers. And the company. And--"

Emily giggles. "I get it, lovely. I had a nice time, too." Her eyes drift down to your lips. "Can I ask you something? But please don't feel obliged to say yes." You nod, having an idea where this is going. "Can I kiss you?"

You cock your head to one side with a smile. "I'd like that."

Emily's hesitant as she smooths your hair over your shoulder. Her touch is gentle and soft and it sends a shiver down your spine. "Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" She says.

As tentatively as possible, she slots her lips over your own. You melt into her touch and she swallows your hum of content. Her tongue runs over your bottom lip and you nod, winding your arms around her neck as she slips her tongue into your mouth.

The kiss can't last for longer than twenty seconds, but you're panting and out of breath by the time she pulls away. Your cheeks are flushed and you're suddenly hyper-aware of how close you two are. "Can we do that again?"

Emily arches a brow. "What, the date or the kiss?"

"Both."

[slaaverin]

Okay why are Jikookers literally elder people? 30 is not old at all, but I've seen children and teens in other shipper fandoms, not this one ...what brings y'all together like this 😂

But happy birthday love 😘 may you grow to see your generations 😊

Ahhh thank you so much for the birthday wishes anon 💜

What you're saying makes me wonder.

I have a jikooker friend who is 70+ 😂

But I believe some jikookers with greater levels of maturity can truly understand jikook's bond on a deep level, having been themselves in serious relationships and having more experience with relationships in general. So that's probably why.

It is true that tkkers are usually way younger and more immature 🧐 you're raising an interesting point!

People with some years behind them can understand better the human behaviour. Usually when you are in your teen years it is very common to experience toxic behaviours because young people don't know how to put up personal boundaries yet and if they weren't raised with a lot of love, well they lack self-love as well.

So in fact they have no idea what a healthy relationship looks like, that's why we see so many toxic narratives about the members and their relationships.

Of course I'm talking generalities I am well aware some older fans are also involved with other ships and fuel those narratives. But it's usually fans who even in their adult lives continue to have distorted perceptions of what is good and healthy.

My view on this might be quite radical but nobody in their right mind could be a serious taekooker. Nobody.

Their ship is based entirely on falshood and toxicity. When you are not distorted in your views it is impossible to get behind a ship such as this. (Except if its for just fun I guess)

I think for a balanced adult the only relationship that makes the most sense is jikook. Because they are themselves balanced and healthy and there is absolutely nothing toxic about them.

But not everyone grows in the same way and not everyone can have a balanced point of view and have enough experience to understand the subtleties of human exchange.

That's why there are so many disparities. And that's why I think a lot of jikooker are mostly older.

Jikookers do not have the shiny object syndrom. We do not think jikook are in a relationship because "it's hot" or "it would be cool".

We simply observe them and drew conclusions from our own personal experiences that made us go "Ok I see what this is" and that's it, literally.

That's why I think sometimes we should not take what tkkers do so seriously because some of them are really young and yes sometimes children. They don't even understand what they are doing and what they are believing in.

But it's true jikook draw people with certain levels of maturity, and I think it's quite indispensable to truly understand the depth of their relationship. Nothing beats personal experiences to compare lol

(Again it is all general statements and I know there are exceptions)

I answered quickly but I hope you see now why some jikookers might be older.

Thanks again and take care 💜

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World Chapter 7 (Nice)

Warnings: Flirting slightly, no smut, slow burn, injury (nothing major or no injury to Joe) slight blood mentioned. Lots of Sports talk.

Word Count: 2,930 (Overboard)

A;N Have a Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃🧡

Today is a pivotal day—the last game of the season, and it’s a nail-biter. With a record of 90-75, the stakes couldn't be higher. If we lose, there's still a flicker of hope for a wild card spot. But a victory? That would catapult us straight into the Divisional Championship Game, a dream scenario for any player.

On top of that, I have the incredible opportunity to watch Mr. Joe Cool in action, whom Mia playfully calls my “Future Husband.” Back in college, I was a dedicated fan, never missing a game where he showcased his extraordinary talent. Every time he stepped onto the field, I was mesmerized and captivated by his grace, skill, and looks if you know what I mean.

As I enter Truist Park, an electric energy fills the air. There's a palpable buzz among the fans, an atmosphere that feels almost tangible like anticipation hanging thick and heavy. It's a feeling that's hard to articulate but ignites something deep within me.

Stepping into what could be one of the biggest games of my life, the weight of the moment hangs around me like a cloak. While many might crack under such intense pressure, I choose to thrive in it. The doubters, the naysayers—they only serve to fuel my determination. Their negativity pushes me to dig deeper, to push harder, to give everything I've got. Today is more than just a game; it’s a chance to shine.

The game began on a strong note, with both teams holding their ground during the first couple of innings. Now, we find ourselves at the bottom of the third, and I'm stepping up to bat.

As "Do I Do" by Stevie Wonder plays, I approach home plate with a focused demeanor, considering my options for this at-bat.

Mark Andrew, the pitcher for the Washington Nationals, prepares himself on the mound as my walkout song fades and I assume my batting stance.

He takes a deep breath and delivers his pitch. I notice it's outside the zone, so I refrain from swinging and let the ball pass.

“1 and 0 is the count,” the umpire calls from behind me.

I get myself ready again as he gears up for his next pitch. He winds up and throws once more.

I swing but miss as the curveball passes by.

“Strike!” the umpire shouts.

I nod in acknowledgment and take a step back. That was the pitch I had anticipated; he boasts one of the best curveballs in the league right now.

I step back into the box a raise my bat. ‘Come on, give me something to hit,’ I said in my head

He threw his next pitch, and it all happened so fast. One moment, I was watching the ball being thrown for me to hit, and the next, I found myself on the ground, holding the side of my head because I had just been hit by a baseball. My helmet absorbed most of the impact, but when a baseball comes at you at 95 miles an hour, you definitely feel it.

A gasp swept through the ballpark as the scene unfolded. The catcher immediately waved for a trainer from my dugout before leaning down and putting a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, can you hear me? Are you okay?” he asked.

For some reason, his voice sounded distant, and I couldn't respond. I just nodded, still holding the side of my head. I guess my helmet flew off when I hit the ground.

Soon, the trainer arrived with a towel. “That was a hard hit. Do you think you can roll over?” he asked, but again, his voice sounded muffled. So, I nodded once more, and they helped roll me over.

I groaned in pain as they rolled me onto my back. Finally opening my eyes, the ringing in my ears stopped, and my hearing returned to normal. “Fuck,” I groaned, hoping the microphones on the field didn’t pick it up.

Justin squatted down next to me. “Hey, we need to get you to the trainer's room. That ball got you pretty good.”

Taking in his words, I moved my hands from my face. “Shit,” I gasped as I noticed my glove was stained with more than just dirt; I was busted open.

I managed to sit up while the trainer pressed a towel against my head. Damn, I’d rather be hit with tennis balls than this—at least they had some cushion.

With their help, I slowly got to my feet as a round of applause filled the stadium. This was definitely not how I envisioned my day going.

Unfortunately, I found myself benched after that incident, nursing a fresh set of stitches on my forehead. While I was grateful there was no concussion or major head injury involved—just a wayward pitch that went terribly wrong—I couldn’t help but feel the sting of frustration. Mark was the pitcher, and I held no grudges against him; I knew it wasn’t intentional. Just hours earlier, we’d been laughing and joking around, sharing inside jokes and pre-game camaraderie. But that’s baseball for you; sometimes, in the heat of the moment, a pitcher loses their grip, and you end up taking a hit.

It was the bottom of the ninth inning, with the air crackling with tension. The scoreboard lit up with a nail-biting 3-3 tie. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as two outs hung in the balance. Austin stepped up to the plate, a determined look on his face. My pinch replacement, Tommy Reese, was on deck, stretching and warming up, ready to step in if the situation called for it.

Over at first base, Ronald Acuña Jr. stood poised, his athletic frame ready to explode into action. All Austin needed to do was make solid contact with the ball and drive it into the outfield. With Ronald’s incredible speed, we all knew he could beat the throw home.

As the closer took his position on the mound, I felt my heart racing in sync with the crowd’s energy. He shot a quick glance back at Acuña before winding up to pitch to Austin.

Austin stood firm, carefully checking his swing as the first pitch sailed by—ball one. It was a good start, and my confidence began to build.

I leaned forward, elbows digging into my knees, every muscle in my body tense with expectation. This was it—the moment we had all been waiting for.

The pitcher glanced once more at Ronald, then took a deep breath and delivered the next pitch. It was as if everything slowed down for just a heartbeat. Austin, eyes locked on the ball, swung with ferocity and precision. The crack of the bat echoed like thunder as the ball soared into the air, arcing gracefully toward the outfield. It sailed further and further until it disappeared into the majestic waterfall display at the park.

A walk-off home run! Victory was ours!

The stadium erupted into a wild celebration, a thunderous roar that sent vibrations through the very ground beneath us. It felt as if the entire stands shook with joy and excitement. Everyone from the dugout charged the field, sprinting toward home plate, united in the thrill of triumph as Austin rounded the bases, his expression a blend of disbelief and exhilaration.

I stood just outside the circle, wise enough to be cautious with my stitches, but that didn’t stop me from celebrating with every ounce of energy I had. I cheered and clapped, sharing in the jubilant atmosphere that surrounded me.

We were heading to the NLDS, baby!

As I settled into my seat for the post-game press conference, I offered a soft but warm greeting to the room, a subtle “hello” that echoed in the anticipation-filled space.

One of the reporters, a familiar face I would later come to know as Dave, leaned forward and asked, “Riley, how are you feeling right now?”

I let out a light chuckle, a mix of relief and exhilaration washing over me. “Honestly, I’m feeling great! The adrenaline is really pumping through me right now, so I’m not even feeling this,” I said, gesturing lightly to my head. “But overall, I’m feeling good.”

From the back of the room, a voice rang out, filled with curiosity. “How proud are you of Austin?” A woman inquired, her tone sincere and warm.

A broad smile broke across my face as I thought about my brother. “I’m incredibly proud of him. That’s my twin right there,” I replied, injecting a bit of humor into the moment. It was a playful reference to the nickname we had given each other for our shared last name.

Laughter erupted around the room, lifting the spirits of everyone present. Just as the chuckles faded, another reporter asked, “When you got hurt earlier, the team looked visibly shaken, but they managed to pull themselves together. How do you all stay focused and regain your composure in such moments?”

I took a breath and nodded firmly.

I nodded firmly. “No matter how much I’m hurting or how tough things get for the team, we stand by each other, always. When you train with the same group through the spring and share the field with them through the summer. A strong bond forms. So whether we win or lose, when you underestimate us, we step onto that field and prove that we are just too nice for yall”

“Girl, you okay? I saw you got knocked upside the head,” Mia asked from the other side of the phone on her way home from work.

Leaning my head back against the headrest of the car as Kyle drove to Mercedes-Benz Stadium, I replied, “Sis, I’m cool. I got a few stitches. I'll be fine in a couple of days.”

“Alright, if you say so,” she sighed. “Are you still going to the game?”

“Pulling up to the stadium as we speak,” I responded, looking out the tinted window.

“Alright, be careful; tell Ja’marr and Joe I said hi,” she said.

“Yes, Mom,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “And I will.”

We hung up just as Kyle pulled into the private parking lot. He looked up in the rearview mirror and asked, “Ready?”

“Let’s get this show on the road,” I replied, putting on my shades. He nodded and got out to open the door for me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I offered.

He smiled and shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I’m a Cowboys fan anyway,” he said.

I feigned a shocked look. “Wow, I’m hurt, Kyle,” I said, shaking my head.

“Sorry, not sorry,” he replied, getting back into the driver's seat.

As I walked into the stadium, security guards escorted me to a private box. It was about thirty minutes until kickoff, and fans were filling the stands, ready for some Thursday night football.

When I entered the box, I noticed a few women already there. At first, I thought the guard had led me to the wrong room, but they reassured me that I was in the right place and welcomed me in. During our conversation, I quickly learned that they were WAGS.

“So, which one are you here for?” one of the women asked. I learned her name was Emma.

I shook my head. “Oh, I’m not dating anyone on the team. Joe, Ja’marr, and I all went to college together, so I'm just here to watch them.”

Speaking of the devils, there they were, taking the field for pregame warm-ups. My eyes drifted to Joe in his uniform. He really looked good in everything—the way his hair fell perfectly and how his tights gripped his thighs.

Girl, get ahold of yourself.

“You okay?” Lexi asked to my left with a slight chuckle.

“Yep... just great,” I responded, crossing my legs to calm myself down somewhat.

Joe started looking around the stadium until he finally found me. When he did, he tapped Ja’marr on the back, said something in his ear, and pointed up at me.

I waved at both of them, and they waved back before turning their attention back to their warm-ups.

God, help me.

The score was 27-27 in the 4 quarter with just 60 seconds left on the clock and the Bengals had the ball if I know Joe he does not want to take this thing into overtime at all.

I sat there holding my breath as the ball was snapped into Joe's hands he looked around the field before he threw a Hail Mary pass to the in-zone hoping someone would catch it and ill be dammed.

Tee Higgins caught that ball at what was the last possible second to give the Bengals the touchdown.

The stadium goes crazy, and so do I. The Bengals just won the game with that play. There was only time for the kick for the extra point.

As Joe made his way back to the sideline he pointed up to my box with a nod. I nod my head back with a smirk, something we did back in LSU as to say,y ‘Who they think they playing with’

The Bengals walked into Atlanta and got the dub 34-27.

After things calm down a bit, security takes me down to the field. I immediately spotted Ja'marr's back talking to Joe. They said Joe and I were thick as thieves. Every time you turned around, these two were together.

Deciding to mess with Ja'marr a bit I ran and jumped on his back.

“What the hell,” he said confused at first then he heard my giggles “Girl if you don't get off of me,” he said in this fake serious tone.

“You'll be okay,” I patted his chest. “Congrats on the dub, you two,” I said, hoping down.

“Thanks same to you, Divisional huh?” Ja’marr congrats me.

I nodded my head with a slight smile. “She's going to get a ring before us, Joe,” Ja’marr said with a fake cry.

I shook my head at him. “You sure he didn't get tackled too hard.”

Joe played along, “You know, been asking myself the same question all season.”

Ja’marr’s jaw drops dramatically. “You know what? I'm going to hit the showers 'cause yall doing too much.”

He walked through the tunnel before he disappeared. “Thought you weren't coming. saw you got hit earlier,” Joe said, turning his attention to me his eyes going straight to the bandage on my forehead.

Looking up at him even though I'm 5 '7 Joe still had a couple of couple inches on me. “I wasn't going to let a hit stop me from seeing you.”

He turned his head, and I could tell he was fighting a grin because the corners of his mouth twitched. “Just me?” he asked.

I pretend to think about it for a minute. “Well, you and Ja’marr if you want to throw him in there, but mostly you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I won't tell him what you said,” he said, his eyes meeting mine.

I shrugged. “It's ok, he knows.”

Joe and I continued talking for a minute before his name was shouted out of the tunnel by a Bengals staff member

He turned his head, and I heard him slightly curse “You totally forgot you had a press conference didn't you” I asked trying not to giggle.

He nodded his head “Yep,” he said, popping the “P”

I shook my head. Joe had a one-track mind. He shouted to the person calling for him “I'll be there in a sec” then turned back to me.

“Duty Calls,” he opened his arms for a hug, and of course, I gave him one. Closing the gap, I hugged back despite the bulk of his gear.

It was like home, ignoring the sweat and the smell of grass and mud. I could smell the faint scent of his cologne it just felt all too familiar.

To my dislike we had to let go “Text me when you get home” he said releasing me. I didn't get a chance to respond before he was off toward the tunnel.

Yeah, I guess I will

After popping a Tylenol for my head, I climb into bed, ready to call it a night, but not before reaching for my phone and opening my text messages.

Me

I'm home.

Joe Burrr 🧡

Good. Started to get worried for a minute.

Me

Sorry after the game my head was screaming at me.

Joe Burrr 🧡

Did you take something for it?

Me

Took a Tylenol. Hasn't let me down yet.

Joe Burrr 🧡

Good..You're not going to miss any of your games right?

Me

Naw I'm too tough and got too much on the line to be benched now. I'll be ready come next week.

Joe Burrr 🧡

I know you will but just come out the next one without a hit to the face.

Me

I will try to avoid those the best I can 🫡

Joe Burrr 🧡

Please do. You have to pretty of a face for someone to be playing target practice.

Me

Watch it Joe

Joe Burrr 🧡

What! All I did was give my friend a compliment on her amazing looks.

Me

Well I thank you but now I wanna know what's your favorite look on me?

Joe Burrr 🧡

Any look you have on is my favorite. Ri.

Me

Ok, I'll give you that one

For now…

Joe Burrr 🧡

Maybe I'll have an answer for you in a couple weeks

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Thiiiiiiiiiisssss. Like, being completely honest, a lot of the issues we've been complaining about have pretty much always existed in the show--they've just been covered up by the really awesome character dynamics. Like--okay, when I was in college my dad and his wife bought a house that had been owned by an eccentric retired English professor and he'd done up his living room to look like a Shakespearian-era theater. I'm not exaggerating. The walls were painted to look like curtains, there were wall sconces with torchlight lightbulbs, there were murals, there were fucking GARGOYLES, it was amazing. And then my dad's wife painted over all the artwork and murals and took down the cool sconces and the gargoyles and let me tell you, EVERY flaw in that room became obvious. There were cracks in the walls, the baseboards were crooked, the lighting was really poor, the floorboards had water damage. None of which had been noticeable before because you walked in and it was like walking onto the set of a period drama. Anyway--it really feels like the show has lost what made it special this season because we hardly see the mains that we all fell in love with interacting, and all the beautiful details and side characters that made it interesting are just...not there. The flaws in the design are made more obvious because there's nothing else to draw the eye.

HenRen are sidelined like they're always sidelined except for child drama, but we don't have Hen and Chim bestieism to distract us from that fact.

Bobby and Athena are not addressing any of the issues in their marriage like they never do, but we don't have Bobby aggressively dad-ing everyone around him or Athena being a badass WITHOUT blatantly abusing her badge or sweet moments with Harry and May to distract us.

Buck is emotionally intelligent and mature until the story requires him to be an idiot who has the emotional maturity of a blueberry scone, like always but now we don't get to see him be smitten with his boyfriend or have beautiful moments with Chris or Maddie or Eddie to distract us (the scene with Jee was great and a perfect distraction...for the thirty seconds it lasted)

Eddie is three life-altering traumas in a trench coat pretending to be a functional human being like he always is, but now there's no Chris scenes to distract us.

There's just flat out no Ravi, May, Sue, etc to add to the scenery to distract us. And sorry, Brad is a piss-poor substitute.

This got way longer than I intended, but I'm really just so disappointed that in the face of *makes vague gesture at the state of the world* my comfort show has jumped on the general trend of "what is the absolute least we can give the consumer before they rebel?"

Like, we have PROVEN that we will forgive many, MANY flaws in the story for these characters...but they're not giving us the characters!

So yeah, there's cracks in the walls, the baseboards are crooked, and there's waterstains on the floor.

i think so many of the current problems in 911 could be fixed if they’d just let the characters have actual conversations with each other like they used to

[mixelation]

been rotating a minakushi/mikoto concept, help

concept is basically: kushina and minato have an open relationship because he takes Long Missions; kushina starts hooking up with mikoto. kushina and minato would have been 19-20 when itachi is born, so i think mikoto is definitely already married. on the fence about how much fugaku knows about this and his opinion. leaning towards "fugaku is cool with mikoto hooking up with other women, because their marriage is largely political and he doesn't consider kushina a threat to their marriage*"

*for multiple reasons-- kushina can't get mikoto pregnant (important because this is why he married mikoto), kushina's not going to displace him as head of house or head of clan or gain sway within the clan from it (because she's not an uchiha), my understanding is that in japanese culture f/f romance is often seen as a phase/immature and not necessarily "real"

anyway then minato gets nominated for hokage and is back in konoha mostly full time again. instead of breaking up with mikoto, kushina pitches a threesome, and mikoto goes for it without consulting or telling fugaku. itachi is a toddler and she'd thought she'd be going back to active missions but the clan wants her to be a perfect housewife with more babies and she loves her kid but she's BORED and minakushi make her feel good. kushina is kind of envisioning this as a continuation of the "vaguely open marriage" arrangement mikoto has because kushina is not a homewrecker, but minato doesn't give a shit (and is maybe even MORE into it?) so she changes her mind quickly. she and mikoto are "best friends" so no one blinks an eye at mikoto occasionally being over late

threesome doesn't last very long because minato becoming hokage means a lot of power for him but also a lot of loss of privacy. they mutually agree to break it off and mikoto and kushina remain close friends. the timeline is such that sasuke is definitely fugaku's, but also people will question this later (i went back and forth on it, because i don't think minato is the type to abandon a baby thta's biologically his, and mikoto isn't the type to slip up with her contraceptive & i like the idea that ninja contraceptives are really really good)

anyway. flash forward a year and a half-ish and naruto is born. the affair creates a butterfly effect where, idk, there's an uchiha guard or maybe even mikoto herself on kushina's protection squad, and this is enough to tip the obito vs minato battle hard enough in minato's favor that his intervention is better. leaning towards the kyuubi being partially extracted such that there's still an attack on the village itself, but kushina reseals it into her and comes out physically spent but in no danger of dying.

so the namikaze-uzumaki family is all alive, but kushina isn't doing well physically or mentally and minato is both exhausted and stupid busy trying to clean up the mess and they have a one day old baby and no family help. (kakashi is fourteen and jiraiya is off trying to track down the mask man, and yep that's about all they have to lean on.) so mikoto shows up with baby sauske strapped to her back and is like "okay, we're a village and we help each other"

kushina: no, no, i want to be a good mom, i can do this--

mikoto: we're helping each other. you're helping me by sitting with the babies while they nap and i'm helping you by making a list of chores that need to be done by the help your husband, our benign dictator, is going to assign

kushina: but i want to be the one who--

mikoto: i know, i wanted to too. but you need to rest and hiring someone to clean your house because your husband won't your husband can't feels SO good

and mikoto tells fugaku she's basically living at her friend's just while she gets back on her feet (and isn't this SO good for the clan, her helping the hokage's wife with their baby), but then she just. never really leaves

for this AU i'm also toying with the idea of fugaku/the uchiha in general still wanting a coup and mikoto NOT wanting it because she wants to fuck the hokage in this universe, so there's some drama about what happens if the hokage cucks the uchiha clan head??? but also mikoto lets itachi be pushed through the ranks because she wants him to take over as clan head ASAP