#sorry if I'm missing some important things

[fairytaleendingss]

Hello! I’m loving Room For One More, and you said you were taking requests?

This is kind of a general one, but could you do another chapter focusing on Remus’ chronic illness?

I struggle with severe chronic pain and chronic illness in general and haven’t had a relationship in 5 years bc of it (it’s hard to meet people and a lot of people see it as a burden, unfortunately) so seeing cute fluffy things with chronic illness representation gives me hope for the future 😅

Thanks for the consideration :))

- ✨💚

Room for One More?

Chapter 13

Summary: You and Remus have some time to bond.

CW: Depiction of chronic illness, alcohol consumption.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12

So I received this request a few months back and I feel really guilty that I haven't gotten to it sooner. I know how important representation is and I wanted to make sure I gave it a the proper time and thought it deserves. I also I wanted to include it somewhere that made sense to the plot of the story and I hadn't found a good spot previously.

I feel like I could've done better during this series in general with including Remus' illness and I'm going to try harder to make more reference to it in the remaining chapters. I feel that my representation of RA throughout this story hasn't been present enough since it was introduced and I'd like to try to capture a more accurate depiction of it going forward.

One again, I want to disclose that I myself do not suffer from any chronic illnesses, so I apologise for any inaccuracies that may be in here.

I hope this is what you were looking for, anon and sorry again that it took so long. Enjoy the chapter.

--

Mary was staring. Leaning up against the kitchen counter in her brand new apartment. It was her housewarming party. She and Lily had just moved in to a new place together and decided to throw a celebration. All of their friends were there, crowded around, drinking wine and listening to an eclectic shared Spotify playlist.

However, there was something not quite right about the picture she was looking at. She was watching from across the room as you and James danced together, laughing goofily as you pretended to know what you were doing. Beside you on the couch sat Remus and Sirius, snuggled up together, laughing at the display.

She narrowed her eyes as she watched. She was happy for you all, of course she was. She loved how happy you'd recently seemed, however, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was something... off about the new sets of couples that had recently emerged in the apartment.

"Is everything okay, love?"

"Huh?" she was snapped from her thoughts as Lily came to stand beside her, rubbing a gentle hand down her girlfriend's arm.

Lily chuckled. "I wanted to know if everything's okay. You look like you just bit down on a lemon."

Mary raised her brows. "Do you think something weird's going on with them?"

Lily glanced across the room. "No? I think they look happy."

"Hmm, maybe," Mary responded, unconvinced. "I just feel like there's something we're missing."

Lily just smirked, taking Mary's glass of White Wine from her hand. "I think you've had a few too many glasses of this tonight."

Mary rolled her eyes affectionately. "Nonsense. I don't know what you're talking about."

Lily leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her girlfriend's waiting lips.

---

The energy in the room was high as Mary's playlist gave soundtrack to the evening. You and James were dancing around the room, utterly embarrassing yourselves while Sirius and Remus sat curled up together, Sirius throwing his head back and groaning dramatically every time a Taylor Swift song came on.

"Come on, Sirius. You aren't fooling anyone!" James exclaimed towards his friend as he twirled you playfully. "I know you listen to 1989 while you work out."

"I do not," he grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. "Back me up here?"

He looked up at the man his lap was played across, however, Remus only shrugged. "Sorry love, you hum in your sleep."

Sirius sighed thickly. "You all are the worst. How am I supposed to maintain my rockstar image with accusations like these!"

"I say own it," you chimed in.

"Come on, mate! You know you want to dance!" James exclaimed, doing that stupid lasso throwing move towards him, causing you to let out a loud groan at his silliness.

"I do not," Sirius huffed petulantly.

"Yes you do!"

Sirius paused for a moment, weighing his options before rolling his eyes and begrudgingly standing.

James cheered as Sirius began to join in, moving goofily around to the music. You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched the two dance together. They were always a chaotic duo.

You looked over at Remus who was watching on affectionately.

"You want to join us?" You asked, extending a hand to the man.

He chuckled but shook his head. "I'm alright here, thank you."

"Oh come on, Rem," Sirius exclaimed. "It'll be fun!"

"I'm alright," he stated once more.

"Are you sure?" you asked.

"Uh, yes," he muttered bashfully. "Truth be told, I'm not feeling the best this evening."

"Rem! Why didn't you say anything," James all but shouted, moving to take a closer examination of his friend.

"It's nothing, really. Just my usual symptoms," he tried to brush off but you could see the crease of pain between his brows.

"Well, this won't do," Sirius muttered. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Sirius moved to find the car keys but Remus stopped him with a tug of his wrist.

"Sirius wait. I'm fine, I promise. You were really looking forward to tonight. Besides, I'm designated driver, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah," Sirius hummed, deflating slightly.

"That's okay. I can take you. I've only had one drink," you intervened.

"A-are you sure?" Remus inquired, looking at you guiltily. "I don't want to pull you away from the party."

You smiled at him. "It's okay. There'll surely be others."

"Well thank you. I really appreciate that," he responded sincerely.

"It's no problem, Remus. Let's get going."

--

Up close, it became all too apparent that Remus really wasn't feeling well. His eyes were shut and he was resting his head against the passenger window the entire way home, his face pinched in pain.

You couldn't help but cringe in sympathy. You wanted to say something but you weren't sure what would be helpful right now, if anything at all. So instead, you drove in silence. You said an internal thank you to whatever higher power encouraged Mary and Lily to move only 20 minutes from where you lived.

Remus sat up slowly, blinking heavily as you pulled into the garage of your building. You looked over at him, biting the inside of your cheek.

"The stairs are going to be a pain," you muttered sympathetically.

Remus sighed deeply and ran a hand down his face. "'Just have to get it over with I suppose."

You exited the car before making your way around to the passenger side to assist Remus. Where he normally would have seemed uncomfortable with this kind of doting, today he just felt grateful.

His joints were so stiff that he could barely make it up the stairs at all but with your support and a lot of effort you managed to get to the front door.

Walking into the apartment, you deposited him on the couch. He groaned and lifted his heavy legs up so they were stretched out in front of him. You sighed deeply as you watched.

"Can I get you anything?" You asked gently. You couldn't help the pang of worry that was congealing in your stomach as you watched him. He was looking extremely pale and there were drops of sweat beading across his forehead, an indicator of the pain he was experiencing.

"My wheat bag would be nice if it's not too much trouble," he muttered stiffly.

"No of course not!" you were quick to respond. "I'll be right back."

You couldn't help but watch him over the kitchen bench as the bag went around in the microwave. You bit your lip nervously. You weren't quite sure what to do to make him feel better. In the time you'd lived with the boys, you'd seen him go through a few flare ups here and there but nothing nearly as bad as this one, and you'd never been here with him on your own either. You'd always had one of the other boys to help out.

You thought for a moment about calling James or Sirius for help but you quickly dismissed that idea. You were being silly. You and Remus had on good terms as of late, you would even go so far as to call him a friend. And he'd taken such good care of you when you'd been unwell all those weeks back, the least you could do was repay the favour.

You straightened up as the microwave began to beep and hurried to deliver the bag to Remus.

He looked up slowly through tired eyes when you returned, smiling appreciatively.

"Where do you want this?"

"My right knee," he muttered and began to carefully lift up his pant leg.

Your eyes widened as he revealed the red, swollen joint.

"Remus! This looks awful!"

You gently placed the wheat bag on the appendage and he let out a gentle sigh of relief.

"Thank you. It's really not that bad."

You gave him a look that told him you could tell he was lying.

"You don't have to pretend to be okay, you know? I'm here to help. I want to know what's really going on."

He let out a breath and ran a shaky hand down his face. You watched as his front receded ever so slightly. In all honesty, he was too tired to put it on anymore.

"Do you mind grabbing the pills from beside my bed?"

You smiled at him gently. "Of course."

--

You spent the next while doting on Remus. You got him everything he needed, completed his usual chores around the house and even ordered food from his favourite Chinese place for dinner.

All the while, Remus thanked you profusely and you could see the guilt that lingered behind his eyes, despite your continuous reassurance that you were happy to help.

It was about 11pm when you found yourself sitting in the arm chair beside the couch where Remus was situated, watching Netflix together. Every now and then your gaze would flicker towards him, eyes flitting over his features in an attempt to assess how he was feeling. You couldn't help but take notice the way his lips pursed in concentration as his gaze stayed glued to the TV, or the way his hair, in need of a cut, was slightly disheveled and began to curl around the base of his neck. There was something endearing about him, you observed. He was handsome in a sort of tender and understated way. Where James was strong and buff and had a boyish charm, and Sirius' look was bold and unique, Remus' attractiveness was more subtle. He had gentle features and dark, kind eyes that you couldn't help but become lost in. There was something so intriguing and mysterious about him that made you curious to learn more, even during the times where you hadn't been friendly. He was unlike anyone you'd known before.

"You can stop worrying, you know?" He drawled lowly, not turning his gaze away from the TV.

You sat back in your seat, being broken from your thoughts. "I'm not."

"Yes you are. I can feel you looking at me."

"Oh well, excuse me for being concerned about you."

He sighed thickly. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Remus," your voice was small as you replied. There was so much on your mind, especially when it came to him. So much about him you didn't understand.

You bit your lip as you turned back to the TV, watching the colours flicker and flash through the screen, casting light in the otherwise dark room.

After a moment you heard a shuffling begin beside you. Your eyes widened as you turned to look at Remus, who was attempting to swing his legs over the side of the sofa.

"Remus, what on earth are you doing? You're in no position to be walking around right now."

"I'm not! I promise. I was just trying to make some room."

"Oh." Your brows furrowed as he scooted over on the couch. You weren't quite sure what he was trying to do until he patted the spot beside him, glancing up at you with hopeful eyes.

"Will you sit?"

It seemed a peace offering of sorts.

Hesitantly, you got up from your chair and moved to sit beside Remus. Once he was sure you were comfortable, he carefully placed the blanket he was previously using over both your laps.

You looked at him skeptically, unable to gather what was going on in his head. Remus was just like that. Completely unreadable. An enigma.

He cleared his throat nervously. "I'm sorry if I've been a little short with you."

"Remus, it's okay," you responded sincerely. "You're in pain. It isn't your fault."

He sighed. "I don't just mean today."

He turned to look at you, guilt clouding his chocolate eyes.

"I've behaved poorly towards you ever since you moved in. I know it's no excuse but if I'm being honest, I was scared," he didn't know entirely why he felt the need to say it. Maybe it was the medicine or the pain or a combination of both but you'd been so undeservingly kind to him this evening. And all these feeling had been swirling around inside of him for so long, they were ready to burst out of him.

"Things weren't easy for me growing up with... all this." he gestured absently to his leg that was now propped up on the coffee table. "People weren't always understanding about it. Especially when I was younger. It took me a long time to find a place where I felt accepted and not like I was an outcast or a burden. I suppose that means I don't take too kindly to change."

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling his walls slowly but surely begin to lower, as you watched him sympathetically.

"But that was no reason for me to be cruel to you when you've been nothing but kind in return. So for that I'm sorry."

You smiled gently. "Remus, that's okay. I understand."

You shuffled closer to him. "And I'll have you know that no one thinks of you as a burden. You have amazing friends who care about you so much. And as scary as it is to be vulnerable around new people, I promise I would never judge you. I'm always happy to help whenever you need me."

He let out a breath of relief, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He smiled at you kindly, appreciation pooling in his eyes.

"You're wonderful. You know that?"

His words sunk in to your skin and you felt heat rise to your cheeks, suddenly exposed under his gaze. Your eyes fell to your lap as a nervous chuckle escaped you.

Remus reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture was unbearably tender. You looked back up at him. His eyes flickered with vulnerability as a heavy tension settled between you, completely unlike the kind that has encompassed you before. Your heart began to race.

It was at that moment, the door burst open and James and Sirius stumbled into the flat.

"Honey, I'm homeeee!" you heard James call out, followed by a excessive amount of snickering from Sirius.

You pulled away from Remus suddenly, scooting back on the couch as if you'd been burned.

"You two are back early," you remarked in surprise.

"We just missed you guys too much!" James exclaimed as he came around the back of the couch and pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek. His breath smelt like wine.

"How are you feeling, my love? Did Y/n take good care of you?" Sirius cooed, coming to sit beside Remus on the arm of the sofa and running a hand through the mans hair.

"She did a lovely job. I might have her replace you next time."

You chuckled and watched as Sirius pressed a hand to his chest and gasped dramatically in mock offence.

"I can't believe this! My own lover is replacing me. How ever will I go on?"

You giggled once more as Remus rolled his eyes fondly.

"On that note, I think it's time for bed, love." Remus turned his attention to you. "Thank you again for all your help tonight."

You smiled gently. "Don't mention it."

--

As you laid in bed with James' arms curled around you, sleep refused to come.

There was a heavy lump of guilt in your stomach and you didn't fully understand why. It wasn't like you'd done anything wrong. Nothing had even happened. You and Remus had just been talking, that's all. However, the feeling hung over you like a raincloud over your head.

You rolled over to face the boy beside you. The sweet boy who you truly cared for so deeply and you snuggled into his chest.

You shut your eyes tightly, trying to rid your mind of the thought. But as you began to drift off, it was Remus' eyes you saw.

You wondered as you fell asleep, if it was possible to have feelings for more than one person at the same time.

--

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy @navs-bhat @shushbruv @magicwithaknife @eeviee4 @notapoetjustscar @gugggu6gvai @robertsmithclone @ilovesugurugeto69 @taytayy178 @its-notkiee @bugworldsworld @switchingfandomslikecrazy @evangelquill, @delusional-4-fake-people, @ch4rlotte35, @insideoutjulie, @hiireadstuff, @laniirackssss, @starrystormwritings, @strategicsweetheart, @1800brat, @sammyreid, @frootloops1213, @ill-be-okay-soon-enough, @loveelylani, @ilovejamespottersomuch, @that-gay-person-27, @serenadingtigers, @lily-mylove, @arielthee-potterhead, @treefairy-28, @happycatanxie, @lettertovera, @captainlunaxmen, @ellieshifts3, @marauderslover18, @hidontmindtheintrovert, @spencers1nonlygf, @dearggntlereader, @hermionelove, @the-lavender-girl, @imobsessedwithtaylorswift, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @ayyeitssarahh, @mmmunson, @1989worshipper, @mysexy-anxiety

[spr1ngbunnypvrin]

Block me if you think the headcanons about the Aftons are all racist, homophobic, and sexist just because you think it's "accurate and realistic" since this is the 70s - 80s 💀🙏🙏🙏

First of all, why do we have to care about fiction becoming logical? => It's a flaw and full of gaps when you try to make it only correct, thinking it is "canon" over anyone else's headcanon, and "trampling" it in a rude and disrespectful manner.I'll be blunt: you are a pretentious and pathetic person, truly.

And that also diminishes the important characteristic point (small or large) of the character - it shows that you completely miss all the point.

Secondly, don't make me throw the entire novel, the evidence already present in the canon, in your face.Do we really belong to the same fandom???I won't talk about someone saying "William will be Trump's support."

And then his children?? Alright, I find it amusing that some people think William abusing Elizabeth is automatically "sexist." Didn't he abuse all his children equally? In the novel, William also clearly praises Jessica for her sharp intellect and thinks she has an eye for science. I might be wrong, but I'm sure he said something like that to her!

And the most important thing... Lamar is a black character in the first part of the Silver Eyes trilogy, if William were racist, it should have been evident in the part where he was harsh with Lamar, but was William???? NO HE DIDN'T.

And oh, Michael too, most of his friends are of different races, so if he is so racist, why does he hang out with them? Idk what the shit if you thinking something wide- ugh

And if you intend to tell me that "Everyone has their own interpretation." Then SORRY, it's not like you can just spit your shit whatever you want and call it your opinion, headcanon, or interpretation and insist on it like that. At least you should know how to research before speaking, don't just dive in and say something even more ridiculous than others. Don't even dare to act like you know everything especially when you ACTUALLY don't, its fucking cringe

Sorry moots, I'm not in a good mood today, I just can't believe there are people on TikTok with such ridiculous thoughts :// And I'm thinking if there are still people who intend to say that to any Afton fans and just ewwww.

[worriedvision]

Your first argument living together - Dr Ratio

Gender neutral reader, established relationship and Dr Ratio is more factual than logic which causes space to grow between you guys. Happy ending.

Yes it is somewhat based on an argument I had with someone that led to me donating a lot of dresses I really loved to charity BC I had enough of hearing the same thing all the time. Loved those fucking dresses, wore them all the time too smh

--

You had been clothes shopping recently, and in the middle of putting them away when your boyfriend walks in, glancing at the clothes you got yourself.

"That fabric will need to be hand washed. You do know that you also have to be careful with ironing and drying, right?" He asks.

"I'm fine with doing my own laundry, Veritas." You smile, only to see your boyfriend wasn't happy.

"That's not the problem. Did you really need these clothes? How often will you wear them?" He keeps going, getting under your skin.

"I bought them with my own money, what I buy isn't any of your business. It's nice to have a variety of things. I don't even have that many clothes that I won't wear, you know I already gutted out the ones I don't use." You tut, your boyfriend crossing his arms.

"You can't wear some of these to your work. They aren't ideal, they've -"

"Oh my god, Veritas, you have the opposite problem of always wearing the same damn thing!" You yell, your boyfriend scowling.

"Because I don't have to wear new clothes to feel good about myself!" He reports, walking over to one of the items you hadn't yet put up.

There's an awkward silence after he says that. He doesn't look like he regrets it, in fact he's looking at you as if you were insecure and getting new clothes was your way of making yourself feel confident.

You put the rest of the clothes you bought to the side, planning to put them away the day after when your boyfriend was away. Grabbing a blanket, you go to sleep on the couch.

"I have to leave for work _, you take the bed."

Of course he's got work. He's the Dr Veritas Ratio! You turn back and put your blanket back, waiting until he's gone to sleep. It doesn't take long, and your boyfriend calls out to say he'll miss seeing you over the next week.

--

That evening, you couldn't sleep that well. You kept thinking about what your boyfriend said, and you start to realise he might be right - yes, you have a variety of clothes, but did you need them all? As a grown adult, you have to understand the difference between wants and needs, right? That money could have gone to food, bills, anything that was important for survival.

The next morning, you had a second day off. Looking at the clothes you bought yesterday, you no longer look forward to wearing them. You knew you'd just think of the hassle of sorting them out - or your boyfriend getting annoyed that youd be spending more time on cleaning the clothes properly.

Putting the clothes you had put in the wardrobe into the bag as well, you put it on top of the list of errands to take back to the shop. You had at least kept the tags on, and they were clean and unworn.

The shopkeeper looks over to see you, waving and smiling as you walk to the front.

"Hey! Did your boyfriend like the clothes? I'm sure he loved them on-"

"We...had a bit of an argument. I'd like to return these, please." You say, the shopkeeper happy to sort out the issue.

"Sorry to hear about that. He must be blind if he can't see how these would look on you!" They sigh, looking over at something you were thinking of getting. "Would you like to try-"

"Ah, no need. I don't need it." You solemnly reply, taking your refund and leaving quietly.

You planned to go to a nearby coffee shop for a treat, but then you remembered the argument. Taking a deep breath, you opt to just get the essentials before heading back.

After getting back to work, you wear the same boring outfit you wear all the time. You think about the shirt you bought, something that's got a nice pop of colour, but you stick to the same shirt you had five identical copies of. Your boyfriend hasn't been acting different, sending you the same 'i love you' messages.

When he comes back, he doesn't realise the words he said had impacted you. He kisses you on the cheek, which you lean into, before getting dinner plates. He asks you about work, you ask about his, and he thinks it's a comfortable silence between you two. Meanwhile, you're keeping to yourself to prevent an argument from arising. As silly as it sounded, you were still really down about the clothes you took back.

When he asks where the clothes you bought were, you laugh and say you returned them. Your boyfriend furrows his brows, wondering why you returned them but didn't think too much about it.

But then he realises you're not initiating and affection with him. You were insecure about your connection with a bunch of clothes you hadn't even worn yet. He asks you if you're okay, and you give some excuse of being tired after work, and at this point your boyfriend starts to pick up on some vibes that we're off. He can't put his finger on it , but he thinks he's perhaps done something wrong.

--

The next day, he sends Aventurine a message asking if he could give sole advice. Aventurine teases him but agrees, thinking this will be a moment he can say he's superior at this aspect of intelligence.

"So, Doctor, what question do you have for a gambler?" Aventurine purrs, Dr Ratio rolling his eyes..

"My partners been acting off, but I can't pinpoint what happened." Your boyfriend responds.

"Let me guess, you had an argument and you thought it's smoothed over?" Aventurine adds in. "Well, what did you say?"

"I was just highlighting that I don't need new clothes all the time, and they shouldn't feel the need to have their cloth-" Dr Ratio thinks out loud, only for Aventurine to cut him off.

"You called them insecure for getting new clothes." Aventurine cuts though, Dr Ratio understanding instantly how he screwed up.

"Gotta go." Dr Ratio hangs up, Aventurine chuckling as he looks over at you.

"Told you, he's not that smart." He laughs, as he takes a sip of coffee.

"But he isn't wrong. I'm insecure about my clothes and i-"

"...When I say this, I don't mean it out of malice. Your outfit is plain, and not in a good way." He sighs. "Listen, if Dr Ratio asks to buy you clothes you milk his bank account dry."

"Aventurine, no!"

--

Meanwhile, Dr Ratio went to the same shop you bought the clothes. Walking in, he looks around at the clothes there before walking to the cashier.

"Hello. So, my partner returned a few bits of clothing about... 3 weeks ago?" He rubs the back of his neck. "Would you happen to know if the clothes are still available?"

"...The one who said they had an argument with their partner?" The shopkeeper tuts, before pulling out the bag they did keep along with the clothes.

"Thank you for keeping them on hold. I'd like to buy them." Dr Ratio requests.

"I think you may need to do a bit more than this to be forgiven, but it's a good start." They explain, ringing up the items. "I've known them since we were in school together, so it makes me really sad to see them so down."

"I'll do what I can. Thank you for the assistance." Dr Ratio ends, walking out.

He lands up cutting off the tags before wrapping them in wrapping paper, along with some other small gifts he knew you would like and an apology card.

When you get home, seeing your boyfriend, you smile before planning to push by him, only for him to stop you and sit you down. You're worried he's going to break up with you, and you're trying to hold your tears back which ultimately only makes it more obvious you were nervous.

When he gives you a package, you look down at it confused before opening it to see the clothes you returned, along with some other gifts.

"I'm sorry." Your boyfriend says, pulling you in for a warm embrace as he feels you crying. Knowing he was responsible for this - and Aventurine was right on the money - hurt him.

"This weekend, why don't we visit that shop? I saw a restock of new items and I think some of them would look dashing on you." He suggests.

"You're paying." You muffle out, your boyfriend agreeing it was the least he could do.

[altsunthinkable]

So I was telling my mother (who watches 911 but like in a normal general audience way) about the whole alive Bobby theory today. And in running it down for her, I finally settled on the things that make me most lean towards believing it.

1. Oliver sharing the "buried alive" script page. Now, I actually do think the script page was fake and posted as an April Fools joke (particularly because JLH also posted it but it wasn't legible enough so then Oliver did it too). BUT given that Oliver is aware how fans scrutinize his social media activities and he has outright said he didn't want fans to feel mislead if he "liked" Buddie stuff so he wasn't going to do it anymore... would he really go along with a joke saying Bobby was alive if that isn't going to end up being the case? It wouldn't seem to fit with the care he's shown towards fans' expectations in the past.

2. Oliver's post about Peter saying "we miss you at work with us every day" when we know for a fact he's been on set pretty much this whole time. Not "we will miss you." But something we know to actually be false because he hasn't been missing yet.

3. Oliver sharing then deleting the two photos of Brad Torrence just hours after the funeral scenes were shot downtown. It wasn't just one photo which could have been an accidental "oops I didn't mean to tap that one" share. It was two separate photos. We all thought it was odd at the time and wondered what it was about. But then someone (I'm sorry I don't remember who) pointed out what the suicidal Hotshots fan said in 8x08: "You're my comfort captain... You're killing off Captain Banner? You can't! ... Do you realize how many people would be devastated if you did that?" Brad dismisses it as 2 days on TMZ tops. The fan then quotes the inspirational speech from the end of Hotshots season 2 word for word and reiterates: "You can't kill off Captain Banner. He's what keeps the 119 fire family together."* And Brad decides he'll agree to have Banner live. And we see for a fact that he goes through with it.

4. Angela Bassett saying she found out when she got the script when Tim Minear said in an inteview that he called each cast member and told them, giving details about how they reacted (that it took 15 minutes to convince Aisha he wasn't joking).

5. Ryan not doing a goodbye post directed to Peter at all. Not even a photo of the two of them together. Just sharing a silly fan edit of Bobby with a pink bow on his head.

Those are the main offscreen things that have me 🤔🤨. On screen see also:

1. Chekov's rat. Why make a point of showing Chimney bringing it out of the lab when they didn't even acknowledge its existence while they were inside? And we had that post-episode still showing someone taking the rat away from Chim while he's in quarantine. That got cut from the episode but was apparently important enough to write and to shoot.

2. The awkward and otherwise unnecessary cut from Chimney on the phone with Maddie saying "he knew" to the 4 nameless faceless people in hazmat suits caring out the already closed body bag before panning to Bobby's helmet on the floor. It's awkward AF. If they wanted the helmet shot for emotional punch they could have gone just to it. Or panned across some of the blood Bobby had coughed up on the floor and then settled on the helmet. Or maybe even from Bobby's boots and legs from where he died knelt at that table to his helmet. The shot of the body bag being carried out by unknown people was completely out of place. Unless it's important that we know that.

3. The choice of Work Song. We know this show loves itself some on the nose musical choices. "No grave can hold my body down. I'll crawl home to her." There so many songs about death and loss they could have used to just as poignant an end. But this is what they picked.

---

*Tim has cited the Captain Banner stuff in interviews saying it was him choreographing his intentions to kill Bobby. But given Oliver's choice to share those pics when it was already clear fans had figured it out it was Bobby's funeral being filmed, I can just as easily see it being Tim feeling incredibly pleased with himself and clever that he told us exactly what was going to happen - Captain Banner Nash is going to live! My bet is he probably was bummed out some fans were on to him so quickly so he decided to mention it to try to again say "see, he's dead!" Ala "the body bag didn't convince you?" Which is also weird thing to say if that shot doesn't end up being important...

[demonslayedher]

Fangirl hubris and why I have a poll about my fate below

Tl;dr, yesterday I tempted fate with fitting in a late-show trip to the cinema for more Kimetsu Theater while I was dragging a suitcase home from a trip to the boonies, where they are not airing Kimetsu Theater. This is how you guys thought it would go:

The real results below, as told through updates to a friend and a few Inosuke gifs.

Rui would not be proud of dream!me for abandoning my family like that.

But also, at that moment, the theater was pretty warm and I was all worked up for having found a locker in the location I thought I needed, only to wind up totally turned around, and then when I found the route to the theater, I suddenly had no idea how to get back to the lockers where I left my suitcase, so I had run to retrace all my steps, retrieve the suitcase, deposit it in a different location, then take photos of the whole route to the theater so that I wouldn't panic when trying to make my train.

Thankfully the "oh, I hate cities, suddenly I am very lost" panic in advance paid off, because this was the update I sent next:

I MADE IT TO THE EARLIEST TRAIN THAT WOULD BE POSSIBLE TO CATCH!

That means I only needed one train after that instead of two! And leeway! So much leeway!! (Though I wasn't gonna relax until I was on that last train.)

So anyway, edits! For the record, I never watched the arc edits that were aired for Fuji TV (because I don't have a TV), although I did see the Taisho Secrets somewhere. So I had no recollection of a "Dear Urokodaki, I've fought some demons and I'm looking for a cure for my sister Nezuko and I made friends in the Corp named Zenitsu and Inosuke" framing device. I did recall things that were missing, though--Hisa-san lighting sparks, Zenitsu and Chuntaro making up after a spat, that sort of stuff. I was sad not to see that fluff, but the edit did make it tell a more compact story of "one night, these kids have a terrible night in the forest encountering some miserable spiders."

However, they sure could have been smoother. After all, we got Shinobu apologizing to Giyuu for saying he was disliked... But we never actually saw her say that, until it was worth reiterating.

Still, what's most important is that Giyuu got to declare that he's not disliked. That, as well as many other parts, got a lot of giggles throughout the theater. Japanese audiences tend to stifle their reactions, but there were a lot of people having trouble containing their glee at the late show.

I could say more here, but I already reblogged all my old rewatch posts. AND THERE WAS STILL ANOTHER TRAIN TO CATCH.

(sorry the gifs don't move on screenshots, you can use your imagination)

Anyway, you hear that!? I am the strongest!!! And I was gonna carry my suitcase uphill through the neighborhood so that I wouldn't bother people, because I am strong like that. But there was a taxi outside the station so I took that instead and got home even faster.

Look how strong and flexible I am!!! So glad less than half of you had this faith in me (but that some of you had faith in me to be smarter too)!

More good news:

The end... For now. At least until Friday. On Friday I get really stupid again.

[operative-arrow]

I hate this it's bad it's awful it was an absolute struggle I'll never financially recover from this.

So anyway here it is. I can't find where I got tagged from on @woundedsoul12's Thursday Bangers! Sorry if I miss tagging you!

Aaand I managed to fit in egregious for @hedwigoprah's A Word with Friends!

I've also been tagged for WIP [days] and day-ambivalent WIP Tags by @basedonconjecture and @introvertedfangrl and since this is the only brick wall I've been hitting my head against for a week... Ta-da?

Am I just being mean to it because I found it so difficult and it fought me tooth and nail? Probably. Will I polish it up sometime and maybe finish it? Maybe.

I'm having such a hard time trying to get into any crow character I try coming up with. I might just have to leave de Writing of crow rooks to the professionals and be charmed with them from the sidelines. But, for now this thing will plague me no longer. I'm throwing it from the window on my lunch break.

Out, damned spot.

Thursday bangers-

A hundred days have made me older since the last time that I saw your pretty face - Three Doors Down

Benvolio glides through the room with practiced ease. He may have not been allowed the luxury of attending fancy parties as part of the family that had borne him; but as a fully fledged Crow he has attended more than his fair share. And has been welcomed with gracious smiles and nervous hearts every time.

Across Antiva, secrets flow through rooms like the ones he passes, as swiftly and as carelessly as the wine. Interesting secrets. Droll secrets. Occasionally, profitable secrets. But today, as with most parties he attends, he isn’t here for the rumors or accidental slips. He’s here to end a life.

He offers an easy grin to a decadently-dressed passerby, and when his eyes slide off the unimportant noble, they catch on a sight on the balcony beyond.

She’s wrapped in an emerald dress of fine orlesian make. Pale arms bared down to the frilled, silken gloves that cover her delicate fingers as they rest on the railing she leans back against. An ironic crow-themed mask obscures some of the features on her face, but he knows.

The bright-blue sky of her eyes and the storm-choked grey of his clash; locking for the first time in years. The Bard. They know each other's names, of course. But both pretend not to. It was easier to view it all as part of their professional rivalry. Nothing personal. Lies they told.

There is a feeling– he didn't know what to call it– his heart simultaneously drops to his stomach and tries to crawl up his throat. He grins wolfishly and steps through the archway and crosses the distance to her. Idly, he wonders if she's still upset about him killing her patron and disappearing after his business in Orlais. She doesn't look at him with anything other than interest, now, as she removes the mask and tosses it aside.

“Crow.” She purrs, a smile gracing her lips as she rises from the railing. Any answer he may have started was swallowed as their lips meet. The kiss is hungry, the edge of it keen from years of absence. He pauses a moment to lick his lips with a smirk. The tang was notable; poison. But one she knew they were both resistant to. Still a little angry, then. Not enough Her teeth biting at his lower lip pulls him back into the kiss.

Their hands explore each other's bodies; to reacquaint themselves, as well as make note of the carried weapons. His head swims as her poison duels with his resistance. She breaks the kiss and pulls back to glare mock daggers at him, their playful points dulled further by the effects of the poison she also contacted.

“What are you doing in Antiva?” He asks breathily, eyes traveling first her body and then briefly the room below them; searching for anyone important enough to send a bard all the way here. Finding none in the immediate area, his eyes meet hers again.

She gazes up at him from heavy lids as she replies. “Who's to say I didn't come here for you?”

He catches her wrist and pins it to the railing. He chuckles, a low growl of amusement as he eyes the knife in her hand.

“The fact that I caught you.”

The Bard’s eyebrows furrow and she tsks at the egregious implication. She drops the knife to the ground.

“What, that? It was pressing into my back–” the tone her accented voice sings with nearly drives him up the wall She exaggerates a pout.

“I'm sure it was.” he replies, attempting to keep his voice neutral. He should tell her to leave. She should have tried to avoid him until her job was done. Instead, they lean into each other again, resuming their venomous greeting.

[didderd]

Today is Palestinian Land Day.

I saw the post linked above and wanted to make sure I posted something for the day.

There are important links in that post, so please check those out too, but I will link a few more here, since I wanted these on my blog for people anyway.

Links below:

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1vtMLLOzuc6GpkFySyVtKQOY2j-Vvg0UsChMCFst_WLA/htmlview#

[raycatz]

I've been wondering for awhile, but are you making your account as a sort of lu archive?

In a way! It would be cool to have that as a goal but it just wouldn't be possible. There's way too much content for me to keep track of. That said! I do want to grab a lot of the older / current art that I love. (so more like a curated collection?)

I've noticed that as people drift from the fandom (or after fandom discourse) that things go missing or are deleted ;-; I think it's such a shame!

I was shy about interacting when I was new in the fandom and so didn't reblog a lot of the art that I admired the most. Some of it cannot be found, or is very difficult to find now. I kinda regret not interacting more. I wish I had been more vocal about my appreciation then.

Anyways! I got real worried about more art vanishing earlier this year and just started queuing older posts I missed. (I'm more scrupleless now. But,, a part of me still worries that it will bother the artists, especially given past fandom drama being the reason why a decent number of people have moved on or deleted work. I don't want to remind anyone of it and accidentally cause for art to be deleted. But I adore a lot of those works and want to save them in some way- or finally share those excited thoughts I had. so anyways...) Also, there's just a bunch of cool stuff to share! The queue has like,, 272 posts rn omfg.

I've also gone back and added character tags to my LU reblogs, as well as other tags, to make them easier to find.

[merricatblckwood]

I'm wondering if I should be active on twitter cause I see the ofmd community that it created and I have big FOMO seeing all the people meeting each other and become friends and going to events and lately HAVING A DRINK WITH RHYS DARBY (???) And I'm like I want to belong to this but first I'm scared as shit of twitter there is so much drama and second groups of friends are already formed and third I don't think I'm interesting enough to stand out and belong to this community?? Anyway I'm renting. THOUGHTS? (Said in this Nathan Foad voice, you know the one) thanks

[dootznbootz]

Heads up, but any of those "reblog to give prev____" or whatever and you reblog that from ME? I will reblog that back. No, listen. I HAVE to let you know that I will also give you the same. I love you all

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

i dont know much about trigun but i think it would be silly if vash and knives (they are brothers?) or vash and wolfwood (lovers? enemies? idk) were drawn like that barbie and ken mugshot meme. From what you post Mr Vash Stampede just seems like ken. little silly guy

YOU HAVE THE MOST PERFECT TIMING WITH THIS EVER I'm literally in the middle of drawing a picture of knives and vash that looks like this.

theyre brothers your honor

[bust-topology]

oh, well, i suppose.

[lucidlabyrinthine145]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected!Elle Woods!Reader (Part 1)

- You're another one of Bruce's illegitimate children, and he took you in after your mother's death

- In the family you stuck out like a sore thumb. While everyone was an edgelord to some degree, you were bubbly and ditzy, liking pink and all types of feminine things, you also loved shopping and fashion, which led to everyone believing you were a spoiled brat

- As such, no one in your family took you seriously

- Bruce prioritised everyone else over you, since you were the only child of his that wasn't a vigilante and thought you could handle yourself since the others have the added burden of being vigilantes

- This led him to unintentionally missing important events in your life, like birthdays and competitions, and dismissed any issues you might have had, since he saw you as the 'normal' child

- You never saw Dick much since he was off in Bludhaven, but when he was around he was nice but distant. He'd ruffle your hair but his attention would quickly go to other things

- "Hey [Name]! Sorry, but I need to go look for Damian."

- Tim and you never really spoke much despite being closer in age, you were both just too different, and when you did try to engage with him and his hobbies he'd get annoyed and wave you away

- "Can you leave me alone? I'm busy." he said in annoyance as you tried asking him the details of his research on a current case

- Jason is jealous of you because in his eyes, you were a spoiled brat who had everything handed to them on a silver platter, what gives you the right to complain? He's always aggressive when he's around you, so you took to avoiding him whenever you could

- Damian was arguably the worst to you. When you first met, he attempted to kill you since he thought he had to kill the other biological child to get a place in the family, leaving a scar on your neck

- The worst part was having to listen to Dick and Bruce justify his actions

- "He's just a child, [Name]. He's been raised by assassins his whole life. Tim forgave him, why can't you?"

- It wasn't just that he tried to kill you, it was mainly that he never apologised and actively took time out of his day to belittle you for being the 'weak link' of the family

- You were largely okay with Cassandra and Barbara, but Stephanie was kind of a bully, she belittled you for your interests, calling you a 'pansy' and a 'wuss'

- Duke and Alfred were the only ones who showed you a shred of human decency, but they were busy, and you could tell that even they somewhat underestimated your intelligence

- Despite your pink-loving bimbo get-up, you knew damn well what everyone thought of you. It hurt, but it wasn't going to stop you. You used your brains to get into college while you were still a minor, studying to get your degree in Cosmetology

- It all came crashing down when your boyfriend, Warner, broke up with you

- "W-What do you mean you're breaking up with me?!" you stammered, feeling tears prick your eyes. "I'm sorry, [Name]. You're just too...pink." Warner said with faux apologetics.

- As you were left there crying, you swore to yourself that you'd win your boyfriend back. That you weren't just some bubbly girly pink airhead. You got into college while you were still underage. It's time to go to Harvard.

- And maybe your family will finally notice you, but that's more of a secondary objective.

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

Taglist!

@cantfindmelol @princesscosmo @1abi @helloitsmeeeeeee @tojisluttttt @simpingpandas @cruzerforce4256 @sirenetheblogger @simpingmyassoff @icefox8155 @emotional-otter @aetheriis

[solardrop]

beanstalk.

aaron hotchner x fem!bau!reader

summary: a loser at the local pub thinks spencer is your boyfriend. Aaron drags him. tags: fluff. creepy men being creepy. body shaming (of spencer I'm so sorry). spencer just catching strays in general. word count: ~1.7k a/n: based on an ask. I was gonna just write my thoughts or a short 500 word drabble or something but then ended up writing this until the point I forced myself to just end it lmao. I think it gets a bit convoluted and cringe at the end but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it was fun! not proofread. divider cred @/cafekitsune

The pub was going to the rue the day they made half-off appetizers their weekly special.

The team squeezed in two pushed-together tables and binged on the greasy delights. you and Spencer had gotten into sharp back and forth about the apocalypse on the way there, which earned the both of you a quick banishing to a corner of the table where the rest of the team wouldn’t be subject to your bickering.

You rest your head against the cool concrete pillar you were sandwiched against. A table pressed against a half-wall facing outdoors was a hard sell to a bunch of field agents. However, Penelope’s animated declaration for the team to ‘live a little’ —specifically, to do so before Rossi got any greyer— landed you a wonderful view of the outdoors. You could watch all the homey, drunken people sway to the music flowing from the patio. The crisp night air flushes the overwhelming smell of burnt grease away from your nose. Maybe you could convince Hotch to grab a window seat for some date nights, you have to admit, the vibes were growing on you. While you enjoy poking the brain of your younger genius friend, you miss the solid warmth of Aaron beside you. Thankfully, he opted to sit in front of you instead. 

You took the opportunity to tease him. You kick him playfully under the table, stealing his attention away from the conversation he is having with Derek. He turns to squint at you for a moment, only to grab your food to sandwich it between the wall and his thigh in retaliation. His fingers drum a steady rhythm against your ankle, the ticklish tap tap tap making you squirm. You motion to ensnare his ankle with your other leg when Spencer turns to point his flimsy white plastic fork at you. 

“If emergency services were still in full effect during the zombie apocalypse, there would be a drastic increase in the number of people infected and a significant loss in—”

“A significant loss in medical supplies. Spoken like a true prepper Reid. What's next, gonna tell me about the importance of learning how to pickle your own food for rationing?”

“Actually, during the Great Depression housewives pickles things that lasted their families almost—”

His impending rant is cut short by the return of your server. Anticipating the bill, Rossi reached for his wallet before the woman shakes her head at him. Instead, sliding a drink and a folded up napkin on the table and nodding her head at you. 

“For the lovely young miss by the window.” She flashes a smile at you, “One of our lovely patons seems to fancy you.”

All eyes snap to you, all the color draining from your face as you stare down at the offending item. The drink was almost glowing at you, bright pink glitter swirling in the liquid with pink gummy hearts floating at the top and crystal sugar bedazzling the rim. There was no way this was actually something for the human body to consume. Even Penelope’s brows raised in shock at its extreme display. 

You glance at Hotch, his leg picking up a steady bounce next to yours after the waitresses revelation. His face is hardened, jaw rocking back and forth as he glares at the folded paper next to the drink. You clear your throat and face the woman again.

“Can you tell me who sent this?”

She juts her sharp chin over your head towards one of the outdoor tables. Hotch’s neck cranes around before your own, and you lock eyes with an older man sitting a few tables down. His face was unpleasantly square, the outdated sandy mullet crowning his head doing him no favors either. He raises his beer bottle towards you with a wink. You shiver, scooting closer to Spencer when the admirer hauls himself out of his stool to stride towards you. Aaron has turned almost fully towards outside now, his brow raised.

“Ohh this is gonna be good,” JJ whispers from the other side of Reid. The comment earns her a sharp glare from Hotch, a blush burning in her cheeks as she goes back to nursing her cheeto-crusted mozzarella sticks.

“I just don’t understand,” Spencer starts, “There are seven other people at this table including men at this table why would he be bold enough to-”

A sharp knock sounder off the ledge of the short wall. 

“Well, hello darlin’. I don’t mean to interrupt the dinner with your friends here, Hello friends, m’  names Miles!” He flashed his eyes around the table with a toothy, mustached smile. 

“But i couldn’t help but see your pretty little face in this window ‘ere and I had to buy ya’ a drink!” 

“Ah… Thank you but um-”

“Don’t even sweat it beautiful!” Small specs of saliva fly from his mouth, causing even Spencer to jump back pulling on the hem of your shirt. As if to use you as a human shield from the germs the man was spewing in his general direction. Hooray. Your hero. 

“I even wrote my number on that there lil’ napkin for ya’. My momma raised a gentleman, so I gotta buy you more than a lil liquor before I take you down.” His beady eyes shoot down to your cleavage before snapping back to your face, licking his lip. 

The fingers on your ankles pause at this. Aaron stares down the side of the mans face, lips pressd into a fine line spread across his face. You decide to jump in before your boyfriend takes it upon himself to tear the mystery man a new one.

“Listen, I appreciate the sentiment but, I’m here to have dinner with my friends and my boyfriend so… I could pay you back for the drink? No harm done-”

“Boyfriend!?” He steps back, eyes scanning the table once more before landing on Spencer and snorting. 

“This lil’ stringbean? You can’t possibly be serious” He smiles at Spencer before he continues “Jack and the beanstalk here could barely muscle steel so ya’ll stuck him with plastic,” He waves a crooked finger aimlessly around the table, “And you expect me to believe he’s wrangling a fine figure like yourself down every night?”

That seems to hit a sore spot for Reid, who finally peeps his head from around you. He takes the moment to ramble about the millions of germs and pathogens that could be found on community utensils even after a full wash cycle. Much to the dismay of the creep and team alike, so much so that Derek had to nudge him with his foot. With the conclusion of Spencer’s monologue the man continues

“Anyways, darlin’ for one night let me take you for a spin. Lil' boy like that won't do ya' any good. I promise you only a bigger, older man knows how to really take care of someone crafted as fine as you.” His eyes lower to your chest again and stay there. 

“I assure you she already knows that,” Aaron spits. 

Your eyes snap to his face. He seemd deceptively calm now, his expression almost bored. 

“Pardon?” Miles asks, half-heartedly turning his body towards him. 

“I’ll put it like this for you Miles. Stringbean over here isn’t her boyfriend,” Spencer begins to squeak out in opposition to his new pet name, but Hotch’s voice bellows out above his own, “I know you’re pathetic, that was apparent from the moment you walked up here puffing your chest after buying the cheapest drink on the menu as a gift. But I’m almost surprised you made your impotence so obvious too, considering you made eye contact with everyone you view as non threatening, the women, the man in his late years, the kid.”

Aaron lazily cocks his head towards Morgan, “But not me and my friend here in the corner. But I’m sure you thought you got away with that. Now, I’d suggest you move. The cologne you sprayed to mask the smell of Motel 8 is starting to wear off.”

Your ears warm at his words. Every sharp word honeyed by his calm, almost sweet tone. He spoke as if he was reading the well thought out profile of an elusive crimminal instead of just some ass in a sit down. God you wanted to kiss him. He’d have to let team politics go just this once right? Just a thank you peck. 

Before you can move to move ask him for one, Miles sputters out, “Talkin’ to me like I’m some dumbass— Who the hell d’ya think you are man!?”

Each syllable causes a spray of spit to launch out his mouth, forcing you to scoot even closer to spencer to evade the line of fire. His face shines with sweat and grease, red rising from his shirt collar as he barks at Hotch’s words. 

“I’m her man. Her bigger, older man. But I’m sure you already knew that, since you still refuse to look at me.” Aaron reaches down into his pockets, flipping out his credentials with deft fingers, “And I’m also an agent. As is everyone at the table including the woman you’ve spent the past several minutes sexually harassing.” He scowls, “Now, go sit down and shut the hell up.”

Miles' eyes finally rip away from you to meet his now. The angered flush erupts across his whole body now. He opens his mouth several times before closing it again, iced out by the cold stare Hotch gives him. He turns on his heel and marches back to his table without a fight. He sniffs his collar before jumping back in clear disgust.

A beat passes and the whole table erupts into laughter at the absurd happenings. Aaron’s face softens, still frowning in the general direction of the slimy man. Jolting when Derek claps him on the back and shakes him in praise. 

“Alright Hotch! Racing to defend your girl, I didn’t know you had it like that!”

“Well, I’m not surprised,” You stretch across the table to grasp his hand, kissing his knuckles before he could protest. He envelopes your hand in both of his and gives you a warm smile,  “my man is my hero in and out of the field.” He breathes out a laugh, knocking his knee against yours for your teasing. 

“Next time, you and String Bean get into it, we’re doing a different seating arrangement.”

[hon3y-y]

Roomie!sukuna; part 4

read the other parts here! : part 1 part 2 part 3

cw : smutttt & fluff<3, oblivious!reader, pervy!sukuna, sex toys, oral (m&f), p in v, dubcon(?), breeding kink, overstim, s*x tapes, somno(¿not really but maybe?), dumbification, big d*ck!sukuna, sub!reader, dom!sukuna, etc etc

*not edited*

wc ~ 6.5k

enjoy<3

Sukuna has been on lockdown since the incident with Gojo. He hasn’t spoken to you longer than five minutes in passing, always having “something” to do. It’s driving you crazy, and as much as you want to barge in and get him to speak, you noticed that trying to force proximity only made things worse and attempted to give him the space he wanted.

But you miss your best friend, the best roommate you could possibly ask for, and the silence between you started to make you feel physically ill. The guilt was eating you up inside, and you were scared that by breaking this boundary, you might have ruined everything. It felt different this time; the house felt extremely cold, unlike its usual warm and welcoming atmosphere. So, after Friday rolled around, you decided enough was enough.

You let out a breath before raising your fist to knock on his door, patiently waiting for an answer. “ryo..? it’s me.." You wanted to roll your eyes at your own words. I mean, who else could it be? You two would have bigger problems if random people were knocking on your bedroom door.

Before you could beat yourself up about it, Sukuna’s door flew open, revealing himself shirtless with a pair of grey sweats hanging loosely off his waist. He looked beyond good; that extra time spent in the gym was showing and made you want to drool. “what?”

You look up at him, feeling frustrated, confused, and a little horny by how his nonchalant attitude worked so well on him. “Ryo, I’m sorry.” Sukuna tilted his head in mock confusion.

“for?”

You let out a grunt; even when you try to be the bigger person, he always has to make it extra difficult, huh? You crossed your arms over your chest, the movement making his eyes zero in on your cleavage on perfect display through your tank top. Maybe if he does this long enough, you’ll flash him to make him feel better. Sukuna fought a smirk as he adjusted his eyesight back at your head, his face remaining stoic.

“I’m apologizing for how everything went with Gojo. I didn’t realize how much you two didn’t get along, and... Ryo, it wasn’t my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

“And yet, you brought him home?” he quirks his brow, hand reaching to grab one of his shirts and slip it on.

You let out another noise of frustration: “I thought it was a joke between you two! I mean, Gojo is really not that bad. He's sweet when you—“ Sukuna rolled his eyes, the hardening of his body language made you stop short. “That’s not important—I'm sorry, Kuna’. You should always feel comfortable in your own home, and I don't want you to think I don't value that.” You looked at him with sincerity, your hands dropping from their defensive positioning.

He stayed silent, his tongue pressing against his cheek while he thought. Sukuna scoffs, looking forward and away from you. “You’re a dumbass.”

His words made you smile, jumping up to hug him. Ryo wrapped his arms around you, a small grin on his lips when you let out a squeal. You look and sound so cute, it’d be impossible for him to stay mad. (Plus, he got to feel your soft, plushy boobs touching him which made his mouth water)

“I got our favorite snacks and have a whole list of scary movies for us to binge. no gojo included too?” You spoke, pulling away to look at him. “oh really?” He hums, his hand moving to push back some hair that covered your face. You nod, "I’ll go and get everything in the cute candy bowls we have!”

As you walk away, Sukuna leans on his door frame to watch the way your plump behind poked out of your shorts, eyes zeroing in to the exposed flesh. What a pretty little thing you are...

He pushes himself off the door and into the kitchen, standing behind you before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “You look great in those shorts, by the way.”

Before you can speak, he’s backing away and into the living room while you stand wide-eyed. it doesn’t take much for you to brush it off, sukuna is a flirt and does it to everyone, simply chalking up the comment as Ryo being a tease, nothing more. When you get inside, you notice Sukuna is man-spreading, nearly taking up most of the couch with his long legs.

You let out a huff. “Ryo, move your leg so I can sit.“

Ryomen hums, leaning further back. “What’s the magic word, princess?”

His words make you glare: “I’m not five sukuna.”

He scoffs, poking your side. “hey! I thought you wanted my forgiveness. This is just going to make me more mad.”

You bow your head, sucking your teeth in plain annoyance. “Please,” you mumble, your small voice barely being heard.

Sukuna smirks, enjoying this way more than he’s supposed to. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. y’need to say it louder, princess.”

You sneer, looking at him silently as if to ask if he was being serious or fucking with you, and after his face not changing once, it's safe to say he wasn’t. you clear your throat, “Please move.”

He grins, moving his leg to let you sit, which you do, but not without mumbling under your breath, setting the candy down so that you didn’t have to worry about it falling when you playfully shoved him. “You’re an ass.” Both of you laughed, with Sukuna pushing you back.

Sukuna sighs, and you notice the reluctance in his eyes before he speaks anyway, “I missed you.”

At his confession, you coo’d teasingly. “Aww, Sukuna has a soft spot!” poking his face, making him roll his eyes, and nip at your finger. although, if he’s being honest, he is anything but soft.

but you don’t need to know that. yet.

Sukuna picks a movie that has the best rating, hoping it’s enough to scare you into his arms (and it always is). You’re cuddled up to him, eating a nerd gummy cluster when you let out a high-pitched scream and cover your eyes. “What the fuck was that!?”

He lets out a chuckle, rubbing his hand down your arm to relax you. “Calm down—it wasn’t even that gory.“

“His head was just chopped off.”

“I’ve seen worse.” You glance at him with irritation before looking back at the movie. “Oh, sorry, I forgot I was watching a scary movie with Captain ‘I watched Gore at Five.’”

Sukuna didn’t need to respond, feeling you tighten around him as the movie got progressively scarier. To be completely honest, these movies were the least interesting part of the night. The way you clung to him was far more entertaining. you spent most of the time making observations about how ‘stupid’ the characters were, even joking to ease the tension, only to either jump or make some weird guttural sound that you attempted to hide with a cough or clearing on your throat. Thankfully, the movie started to play its end credits before you were scared into a premature heart attack, literally letting out a sigh of relief as the names rolled in.

Ryo stood up to bring everything inside, a bit disappointed that it was over because he was enjoying the way you relied on him for comfort. Just as he turned to exit, he was halted by you gently tugging on his arm. “Maybe we can play a game or something?”

“Are you... scared?” he chuckled.

“what!? No, I’m not—“ You let out a scream when the ending credits had a jump scare that was loud; your defense so high that you nearly punched him when he grabbed you. Sukuna stared at you with a blank expression. “Okay, it was a little scary.”

After what felt like hours of sukuna laughing, teasing, and poking fun at your fears, the two of you sat on the couch as a comedy show played in the background—anything to distract you from the thought of guts, blood, and murder. Sukuna suggested a few drinks would help you relax, so now the both of you sat on the couch, slightly tipsy, while playing a game.

you both originally tried to play monopoly, but realized how long it would take and gave up. Then you tried to play Trouble but realized half the game pieces were missing (courtesy of Sukuna’s baby brother Yuji, who decided to hide the pieces instead of play with them). and after remembering that you left both of your favorite card games at your friend's house, you opted for a more verbal one.

“Truth or dare?” he asked, eating one of his candies.

“truth”

Sukuna nodded, thinking for a second, “Have you had a recent wet dream, and if so, tell me who it was with and what happened?” He smirked, popping in a jolly rancher. “Good one, right?”

You rolled your eyes at him and retracted your words, "I pick dare.”

“Give me a lap dance.”

You let out a deep sigh. “You’re such a perv, you know that?” Sukuna nods, chewing his candy. “So, what’s it gonna be? Should I be playing some music?“

You shook your head. you debated what to do for a moment, measuring out what would cause you more embarrassment and made a decision. “I had a wet dream like..two months ago.” You refuse to look at him, instead taking a sip from the drinks he prepared for you two.

He nods, motioning for you to keep going. “I asked for a lot more than that.”

“i..don’t remember.”

He groans, “Cmon, just say it. We gotta play the game right.”

“It was about... Satoru—” Sukuna wants to stop the game, suddenly very uninterested in everything coming out of your mouth. In fact, he felt extremely tired and definitely needed to get some rest for whatever he had planned for tomorrow (nothing). “and…you.” That makes him perk up, feeling all the alcohol disappear from his body, like your words sobered him up.

“What about me?” a cocky smirk on his lips.

You take a big gulp from your glass, setting down the now-empty cup. “It was weird.” You started to explain the dream in the fastest way possible, talking about how Satoru had given you a remote vibrator and instructed you to wear it around the house. Well, Sukuna happened to be there, and after finding out, “you know...”

“I don’t know,” he replied quickly, invested in the story.

“It just got a little...rated R. and you were on the phone with toru and…yeah.. i mean, it’s not like those dreams even mean anything.” you tried to brush it off unsuccessfully.

Sukuna was rock hard, staring at you in awe. When you finished telling the story, you put your hands over your face, feeling uneasy. “Do you have one?”

“one what?” You peaked between your fingers.

“a remote vibrator?”

“That’s not part of the question.” Sukuna nods, letting it go (even though he’s never wanted an answer more in his life). “Your turn, truth or dare?”

“dare.”

The moment the words slipped from his tongue, you began to smirk, causing Sukuna to narrow his eyes, wondering what you could possibly be planning—

“Give me a lap dance.”

Ryo scoffed, shaking his head in a firm ‘no’ motion. “absolutely not, truth.”

“Tell me why you hate Satoru." Wow, well played. a double-edged sword. Why did he hate Satoru? If he were honest with himself, he didn’t have a completely good reason other than that he fucks you. Calling him annoying wasn’t completely true, and he knew you wouldn’t buy it.

What can he say anyway? ‘I hate him because while he fucks you, I'm forced to hump my fist like an out-of-control hormonal teenager and he’s living my dream. not to mention he gets all your attention while i’m left to feel like an intruder in my own home even though I had you before him’??? He’d sound like a fucking loser, and there’s no way in hell that you wouldn’t hold that shit over his head. With a sigh, he stands up, “you gonna choose the song or what?”

He can see the giddiness on your face as you immediately pull your phone out, “turn on the speaker, Kuna'” you scroll through your music, “What about this one?” You turn your phone for him to see. the song of choice? wine pon you by Doja.

Sukuna groans, “Can't you do the song that was in that movie with the male stripper?”

“pony? no. It’s been overdone.” you deadpan. He lets out a sigh, shaking his head while you grab a folding chair and place it down. “You better do it right.”

Sukuna would laugh at your comment if it wasn’t for the fact it was directed at him. While you start the music, he begins to sensually try and remove his shirt making you giggle. His body immediately goes rigid, tips of his ears turning red. “Alright, i’m not doing this if you’re gonna laugh at me the whole time—“

“i’ll stop! keep going!” You immediately cover your mouth. He lowers his sweats a bit, showing off more of his happy trail and glances up at you with an arrogant smirk. “Like it, hm?” You roll your eyes but stay quiet.

He starts off by bringing your hands up to caress him while he grinds against you, the whole thing is both attractive and funny because it’s him of all people. You can’t deny that he actually makes it look really good, especially as he kneels in front of you, leaning back on one arm while his hand drags down his torso teasingly.

He doesn’t make it through the whole song, sadly chickening out after the first chorus is over while you cheer him on, clapping. “Wait, do it again so I can record!” He laughs sarcastically before shutting off the stereo. “Fun's over.”

Once the two of you are back on the couch, he speaks up, “Truth or dare?” Just as you go to say truth, he scowls, “Don’t pick truth again, you chose it all game. What are you, 12?”

You let out a puff of air. “It’s truth or dare! not dare or dare.”

"Okay, and you picked truth all game so it’s been revoked.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Yeah, it does.” Before you can protest, he’s already talking, “I dare you to let me go through your phone for five minutes. zero limits.”

“And what if I don't let you?” You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms.

He shrugs, “Then you lose. I mean, you lose most of the games we play anyway, so i guess it’s not new to you, hm?”

You want to argue and yell that it’s not true, but it kind of is… See, in the years you and Sukuna have lived together, you were forcibly changed from a sore loser to a quietly sulky one as to not embarrass yourself by the amount of times you and him have gone head to head and you come out the loser. You swear he cheats at most of them (he does), but there’s no evidence, and having a full-blown breakdown over board games is a little under your age range. But you technically can win this; it’s just five minutes?

You grab your phone, unlocking it to set a timer, and throw it on his lap, “Anything you find does not leave this room, you understand?” He ignores you, immediately picking it up and clicking the photos app (like a perv🙄)There’s a bunch of random photos, some screenshots of your home screen that you constantly forget to delete, and some weird selfies that make you grimace, “ew, ryo! Stop looking at it..”

He’s not really listening, though, admiring how even when you’re doing weird and stupid shit you’re just so adorable. If you weren’t intently looking over his shoulder, he would have sent them to himself (he’s so obsessed, he’d probably print them out and make a scrapbook like a little freak). It’s a side of you not shown publicly, and it makes his stomach feel warm and tingly. After about a minute of you non-stop complaining about his fascination with your stupid photos, he exits the app to open your messages.

You watch over his shoulder, cringing as he clicks on your recent chat with your newest fling, Hiromi. the whole chat full of flirty messages and light sexting, along with some photos of you in the purple lingerie set he bought you. “Should I send these to myself too?” Sukuna teases, glancing at the endearing pout you wore at his comment. He scrolled down, clicking on random chats, some more filthy than others but nothing too extreme.

He was about to click off the app when he noticed ‘toru💙’ and scoffed, “what is he? your little boyfriend?” tapping the chat to read through his messages. He wants to groan at how cute Gojo attempts to text you, using the 🥺 emoji after almost every message and using nicknames like ‘baby’ and ‘cutie’, it makes sukuna wanna barf.

While Ryo makes a remark about every “stupid” (his words) comment Satoru makes, you refuse to look, knowing the disappointment that will be very apparent in his face. You decide the ceiling is much more entertaining, resting your head on the back of the couch. see, if you were paying attention, maybe you would’ve seen him click on the shared photos icon, scrolling through until a certain thumbnail caught his eye.

It looked like him sleeping on the couch, but was too blurry to actually tell, so he decided it would be better to watch it, pressing play.

It’s very quiet as you pan the camera to where he softly snores on the couch, turning the camera back to yourself while motioning ‘shh’ as you sit on the couch across from him. You sit up, your legs spread as the camera catches a peek into your tiny shorts to show off your pretty white panties, moving the clothing to the side to show your glistening folds and what looks to be a pink tail peeking from your pussy..?

You bring the camera back up, having it far enough to capture his sleeping frame and your face, giggling quietly before your eyes flutter and a tiny whimper leaves your puffy lips, “oh—fuck!”

You were spaced out until you heard the noise, head immediately snapping up to look at what he was watching. Your stomach drops as you look at yourself literally being caught red-fucking-handed, and before you can snatch the phone away, Sukuna is standing up and turning away so you can’t. “Sukuna! Give it back, now!”

He ignores you, again, laughing at the video the longer it plays. “Oh wow, my roomie is a little porn star~” His eyes zero in to how your eyes cross, guessing that the vibrator went a little too fast and made you see stars. how cute. “And right in front of me? while i’m helpless and sleeping?” He shakes his head, glancing behind himself and at you in mock disbelief.

You’re beyond frustrated, tears of shame gathering in your eyes, “Sukuna! it’s not like that—“

“Then explain,” He turns back around to watch the video, looking at how you roll up your baggy t-shirt to expose your pretty tits. You nervously glanced behind you at his sleeping form before facing the camera again, “i hope he doesn’t wake up~” you pant, tilting the camera to focus on how you play with your swollen clit. “cause’ it looks like my pervy roommate was getting off on the fact i was unaware. hey, didn’t you say that this was just a dream? because this looks very real to me, princess.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, cursing. “i just—i told Gojo about the dream first and he wanted me to act it out but I knew I couldn’t actually get you to do it and so it was the second-best option! I’m sorry, sukuna!” your words jumble together as a lump forms in your throat, You didn’t even recognize how hard you were crying until it was physically becoming hard to breathe. “i’m—sorry!” You hiccup, arms covering your face in humiliation.

At the sound of your sobs, Sukuna turns around and realizes he might have let his amusement get out of hand, quickly shutting your phone and letting it drop on the couch. “w-why are you crying?” You don’t answer, if anything, it makes you sob harder and turn away from his strong gaze. Without hesitation, Ryo begins to rub your back, cooing in your ear, “it’s okay, just breathe”

You don’t believe it; this man just found out you’re a perverted freak, and he’s the one comforting you? You turn to look at him, tears still pooling in your eyes, “What? Why—aren’t you mad?”

Sukuna shrugs, “Should I be?”

“I—I mean, yeah? it’s justifiable…” You feel your stomach sink with every second of silence that passes.

“Why would I be mad?” You feel stumped. Is he trying to make you feel more humiliated? Is this a game? trying to get you to confess more and more to make you feel worse than you already do? “I mean, I guess I am a little. Why didn’t you wake me up anyway?”

His words make you freeze, confusion must be clear on your face because Sukuna continues, “not only did you not let me see it in person, but to not send the video either? That’s just cruel.” He’s smirking again, his signature, ‘up to no good’ look that makes you feel small back on his face. “I guess you’ll have to repay me, huh?”

You gulp, looking up at him. “repay you? how?" His smirk grows into a grin, so evil and menacing but so fucking attractive. “By giving me a live show, my little porn star~”

He instructed you to get dressed into the lingerie set previously shown in the photos you sent Hiromi. You’re not incredibly self-conscious, but as his eyes follow you when you walk into the living room, telling you to turn around and bend over to “give him a proper look," you feel a slight increase of nerves, hoping he enjoys your act of submission.

and he does. the way you nervously play with your fingers, breath hitching when you feel him creep behind you to look at how the lace of your panties cups your pussy. He’s been hard since he saw the video, but his need for you grows with every instruction you follow. so cute and compliant, wanting to do anything to make up for being so naughty. It makes him feel something he’s never felt before.

You’re gripping the back of the loveseat when you feel his fingers trace the slit of your pussy through the lace, pressing a little harder at where your hole is, chuckling when you push back against him. “Does that feel good?” You nod, trying not to speak to not embarrass yourself. He didn’t like that, making you yelp when he suddenly smacked your left ass cheek with a good amount of force, turning to look at him in shock. “Use your voice.”

“yes ryo…”

He hummed, peeling your panties to the side. You were so wet, Sukuna’s eyes were glued to the little strings of arousal that stuck to his fingers whenever he pulled them away, “What a nasty little pussy you have—oh look! She winked at me” You want to shove your head into a wall, feeling your body heat up at the way he talked. so shameless.

“Why don’t you go get me that vibrator, princess.” He gives you a kiss on your ass cheek, the same one he spanked, before pulling away. You obey, returning to the living room again, this time with the egg shaped toy. He makes you sit down, spreading your thighs as he teases you with it, dragging it up and down your slit to get it wet. Your hips gently rock against the sensation, getting choked up as he suddenly pushes it in and pulls your panties back into place.

He makes you kneel on the floor in front of him, already having downloaded and connected the device to his phone. Your eyes are still puffy, and you look up at him with such guilt. He can’t help but lean down to capture your lips, making out with you until you’re panting with your lips all swollen. When he pulls away, he decides to turn the vibration onto a low setting, enjoying the way your eyes become droopy and soft puffs of air leave your mouth. “You wanna suck my cock, pretty girl?”

You rub your thighs together, eyes finally looking down at the thick print he left in his sweats. You look up at him, nodding. "Yes, please” he leans back, getting comfortable, “then go ahead.”

You feel nervous as your hands begin to pull at the strings of his pants, tugging to pull them down. His boxers are tight, giving you an even better glance at just how big he truly was. Before your regular hookups started, you always fantasized about how big Sukuna was. Hearing girl after girl scream his name until their throats went sore and watching them limp out of the apartment the next day was kind of telling, but you were starting to think that you underestimated just how big he was.

With every ounce of courage you could muster, you began to peel his underwear off, your eyes widening when his long cock came out in all its glory. It was huge. not just in length, but in girth, and it was pretty. He kept himself clean, hair trimmed but not shaved, and his pretty tip oozed milky pre-cum, lightly dripping down his dick. “gon’ keep starin’ or what?”

Sukuna indulged in the look on your face as you stared at him, it gave him an ego boost when you tried to wrap your hand around his cock just to realize you couldn’t fully cover it. “t’s big right?” You didn’t answer, knowing he already knew what your response would be, and instead leaned forward to spit on it, your thumb moving to spread the liquid on his tip. He let out a breathy moan, cock twitching when you licked his vein hesitantly, “that’s it, good girl”

You attempted to take as much of him in your mouth as you could, ignoring the way your throat protested. Sukuna’s hands tangled in your hair, jaw loosening, while he watched the way you bobbed your head, looking up at him with teary eyes. spit seeped from your mouth, making it messy and noisy as the sound of your little gags filled the living room, “Oh, fuck yeah—take it all”

He began to fuck your mouth, pace picking up until he was roughly thrusting, eyes rolling back. You focused on ignoring your gag reflex until you suddenly felt a strong vibration in your cunt, immediately pulling away as you let out a cry. You had drool dripping down your chin, and your moans came out hoarse from his brutal thrusts, “Kuna'—too much!”

scoffing, he grabbed your head again, “keep going.”

you huffed, putting him back in your mouth when the vibrations increased again. you moaned around his cock, your head feeling empty as all you could do it suck on his tip haphazardly, pulling away to pant helplessly. you rested your head on his thigh, hand squeezing his length. “can’t do it, Ryo”

Your hips rut onto nothing, pathetically looking up at him as the toy brutally massaged your g-spot. You looked so angelic, messy with tears, spit, and precum all over you. Sukuna coo’d, hand reaching down to caress your cheek, “s’ too much?” You nodded, tongue lolling out as you began to feel the buildup of an orgasm, whining as your other hand gripped his. Your mind was going numb, sight getting splotchy.

Your hold on his hand tightened when your body began to squirm uncontrollably, a cry leaving your lips before your vision blacked out momentarily. You woke up feeling like you were in a puddle, Sukuna laughing as you looked down in confusion, “guess you weren’t lying, princess.”

You choked when you realized you had squirted on the floor, feeling embarrassed by just how easy he made overwhelming you. Before you could let the shame consume you, Ryomen was pulling you up and onto the couch. “Wanna try again?”

He tugged on the toy, playing with the different settings, until you became a babbling mess. He jerked his cock off lazily, getting off to the pleas of his name on repeat. his thumb reached down to play with your clit, your plush thighs immediately closing as your head shook back and forth, “n-no, hurts!” he pried your thighs open, spanking your cunt making you whine.

“Nuh uh, hold your legs open,” You struggle to follow his orders, shaky hands gripping your thighs to present yourself to him. He let a glob of spit fall out of his mouth and onto your already drenched pussy, spreading it with his fingers. He made you cum two times before he finally allowed himself to take out the tiny egg, throwing it carelessly across the room because now it was the least of his worries.

Leaning down, he kissed your swollen bud, a mewl escaping your lips when he brought it into his mouth and sucked. You swear he was making you see stars, Sukuna growled when he tasted your sweet nectar meet his awaiting tongue, hand reaching up to move your bra and pinch your nipple. The pleasure he gave you was immense, overstimulating not only your poor body but your mind. “s’kuna! wait—“

He shoved his fingers in your mouth, quieting your sobs as his cruel tongue played with your cunt. Everything he did was so vulgar, treating you like some whore, even letting little whispers of “my pretty slut” slip from his lips whenever you would buck into his mouth. “You wanna ride my face, pretty? that what you want?”

You shook your head, pulling away from his fingers, “Later—close l-like this!” Your words made him feel giddy, putting more emphasis into every movement of his tongue. later implied this would happen again and Sukuna was more than ecstatic to make this a tradition.

You let go of your thighs, your hands gripping his hair to push him closer. You were so close, practically tasting it. Two fingers slowly pushed into you, followed by another, scissoring you open and rubbing against that sensitive part of you that made your body heat up. You let out a wail, tugging on his hair harder when you felt yourself cum, basically riding his face until you went limp. The orgasm so strong you felt light-headed, ears ringing, barely noticing Sukuna pulling away to show off his wet grin.

He loved how fucked out you looked, barely conscious and twitching. Without thinking twice, he reached down and ripped the fabric that was semi-covering your chest. It took you a second to register what happened, looking down at how the lilac fabric was now in multiple pieces and frowned. “h-hiromi got me that..”

Sukuna nodded, rolling his eyes, “So?”

You couldn’t even argue with him, brain fuzzy and most of your short sentences came out slurred anyway. Sukuna took your silence as a win, leaning down to lick and suck at your tits, leaving hickies all over the surface. You hummed, mouth opening as you felt the tip of his cock tease your entrance, slowly pushing into you. Your shaky hand pushed against his stomach, “Ryo! t’s too big!”

but he just shook his head, moving to kiss you softly while his hand moved yours away to let him push in, lacing your fingers together by your head. It burned, the pain almost too much. However, Sukuna slowed his movement, letting his free hand go down to rub your clit. “It's okay, baby, jus’ lemme in..” He went back to kissing you, continuing to thrust into you until he bottomed out.

When he pulled away, he watched how your face contorted and your eyebrows furrowed together when you felt the double stimulation. When you began to babble, hips pushing into his, he started to thrust, picking up speed with every second. His hand still held yours, the moment feeling incredibly intimate.

He was losing his mind. Your tightness felt unlike the pocket pussy he used to fuck. No, this was completely different. He liked holding your hand, feeling you grip onto his with such need or maybe it was the way you gazed into his eyes like he was the only man on earth… Either way, there was a warm feeling in his stomach and a need to prove himself. His movements were smooth as he thrusted into your sore cunt, enjoying the squeals you let out when it got too much, ignoring how you begged him to slow down or you’d cum. He felt like he was on fire, sweat dripping from his brow. He wanted this all the time, seven days a week.

He wanted you.

“Oh, fuck—I'm gonna put a baby in you—you like that? want to make a little family?” He sounded arrogant, like he had already made the decision for you. and maybe it was because of how fucked out you were, but his words didn’t seem to bad..if anything, they made you squeeze him tighter and nod. “Yes! Please, Kuna! want it—so bad”

“oh yeah? gonna cream in this pretty pussy—fill you up nicely,” you agreed, legs locking around him. “Make you the prettiest mommy—oh fuck!” Skin on skin along with the soft ‘plap’ from your dripping cunt echoed in the room, so loud you would probably get noise complaints, but that didn’t matter.

All Sukuna could think about was breeding you, knowing that you would have to get rid of your little fuck buddies if he put a little spawn inside you. He could picture everything: the proposal, marriage, little children running around the house he’ll buy you two. And the best part: it’ll be free from Satoru.

He knew you were close when he felt your walls flutter, pleads getting higher before they got stuck in your throat as your eyes rolled back. He kept thrusting, working you through your orgasm before he finally released, pushing himself as deep as he could. He kissed you again, savoring the taste of your mouth and how, with every breath you let out, he sucked in.

He let you rest as he got up to clean. You would have offered to help if it wasn’t for your brain fog and limbs that felt like jelly. You can’t even remember how you got into your room—only the way he curled against you, placing delicate kisses all over your collarbone and neck, the sound of your giggles making his heart swell. He couldn’t help but watch you as you drifted off to sleep, hoping that in the morning you wouldn’t make an excuse for why this couldn’t go farther.

The thought made him anxious, preventing him from closing his eyes because, in truth, if this was the end, he wanted to prolong it. He took in every detail of your face, listening to the sound of your patterned breathing and the feeling of your soft skin in his hands. His eyes grew heavy eventually, closing before he had the chance to fight it.

You woke up sore the next morning, feeling a muscular arm wrapped tightly around you. You didn’t move, trying to plan out how to approach this situation. On one hand, the sex was amazing and you’ve wanted him for years. and on the other, this could easily be nothing and confessing that would be useless. You were beyond frustrated and had a slight migraine, but refused to disturb him by getting up and having to face the conversation prematurely.

So you waited.

Minutes passed like hours; the longer time went by, the more anxious you grew. This felt so different than your regular hookups—at least if things got complicated with one of them, you could just leave. but this was different. he’s different.

Sukuna slept quietly next to you, arm wrapped around you protectively. He shuffled slightly, signaling he was waking up. The realization made your heart beat faster, second guessing everything you'd prepared in your head until the sound of his raspy morning voice broke the silence, “Good morning…”

“Morning,” your reply was quick, your back still facing him. He hums in acknowledgment, body shifting closer to you to firmly mold against your back. he moves into the crock of your neck to inhale how sweet you smell before pressing soft kisses onto the skin, the feeling ticklish and would have been enjoyable if it wasn’t for your racing head. “sukuna?”

“mmhm?” He hums against your skin, sucking small markings onto the surface. You pull away to look at him, making sure to hold the blanket over your exposed chest, like it mattered. You had so much to say and yet didn’t know where to start.

at the feeling of you pushing away, his eyes open, curious as to why you created the distance (and mild irritation because he liked how you felt against him). The arm he had around you moved to hold up his head, eyebrows raising. he studies the look on your face, noticing the tenseness in your movements. “What’s on your mind, princess?”

You debated how to approach this, but you were truly stumped. You’ve had plenty of hookups, but this isn’t the same; you didn’t really care for them. “What did last night mean?”

He was silent for a moment before a smirk graced his lips, hand reaching out to brush a stand of hair away before making its way to delicately cup your chin. “So straightforward, huh?” He pulls you against him, arm wrapping around you to keep you flush against his chest. He watches you intently, looking for any reaction, “What do you want it to mean?”

You can’t deny it catches you off guard, your breath hitching in your throat before you shrug, “I don’t know... I guess if you just want it to be friendly—“

His jaw tightens for a moment before a scoff leaves his mouth. His hand travels to your hips, fingers gently tracing it before gripping the soft flesh, “You only see me as a friend?”

“no…”

Your response puts a sly grin on Ryo’s face. “Then why don’t we cut the bullshit,” He gets impossibly closer, lips brushing yours teasingly. “Because we both know we’re not friends…”

You can’t stop the stupid smile that takes over your face, “Does that mean that you’re my—“

He doesn’t let you finish that sentence, a possessive glint flickering in his eyes as he cuts you off. “I’m gonna stop you there, love…” pushing you to lay on your back while he leans down over you. he moves closer, his mouth hovering next to your ear, his warm breath fanning across your skin “…because I’m going to make it very clear who you belong to.”

a/n: and it’s done🙏 although this is the last in the series, i still have some drafts/asks that i may get to at some point but i wanted to give you guys some type of ending :) was gonna post this yesterday but didn’t like the original ending i had so i had to redo it. also, did y’all notice the jungkook easter egg👀

tags (ignore)

@smolbeanzzz @mwtsxri @call-memissbrightside @iluvjjkmennn @evieluka @celestep004 @ermatfhh @lenalondon985 @peregrine-nation @1dk-anym0r3 @noblogname-exe @theobsidianempress @silverserpentsofhogwarts @mr-mafias-wife @idkccdfnfz @thejujvtsupost @bbnbhm

[keferon]

Chapter 2 of Blurr storyline >:D

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

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

Part one

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

Under the cut⤵️

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, hell, not days. Cycles.

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

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

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

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

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

Swerve isn't sure he wants it to pass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's thinking about Blurr. A lot.

Blurr occupies a surprisingly important role in his comatose dreams.

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

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

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

But that's not quite true, Swerve thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

Uggh.

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

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

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

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

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

Freaking cursed.

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

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

Two - holy shit, Jazz is tiny.

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

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

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

He's going to get sick.

He needs to talk to Jazz right now.

____________

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

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

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

Jazz frowns

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

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

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

Swerve mentally crosses his fingers.

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

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

“Mech, what the hell?”

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

Before thinking for a bit, and adding.

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

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

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

Prowl looks confused.

Jazz looks absolutely frantic.

“SWERVE????”

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

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

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

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

Swerve laughs and twitches his eyebrows playfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses dramatically.

“The long version is...”

Jazz raises his hand

“What's a holoform?”

Swerve sighs.

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

Jazz whistles impressed. And then immediately turns back to Prowl

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

Prowl hums

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

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

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

Jazz laughs

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

“ I was.”

Prowl frowns.

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

“.... I had a lot of practice...”

Jazz claps his hands.

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

“I got carried away,” Swerve admits.

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

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

“Two. And I failed my driver's exam.”

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

Swerve blows the hair out of his face

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

Jazz just wheezes incoherently in response. Prowl looks alarmed.

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

Swerve nervously shoves his hands into his pockets

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

Prowl twitches his door wings

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

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

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

He's thinking.

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

Then he remembers the mess he left behind.

Oh, no, it wasn't a dream.

Jazz puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Swer... Swerve? Dude, are you okay?”

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

Jazz looks...puzzled.

“Is that bad?”

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

“It's...complicated.”

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

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

Hahahahah oh fUCK.

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

It's also probably too late.

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

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

Jazz glares at him with a worried look on his face

“ That expression you have...”

Swerve puts the smile back on his face.

“I need to get to Earth.”

___________________

Swerve is not an idiot.

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

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

Ask the Quintessons. Or look for it himself.

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

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

Jazz, now back inside his Mech looks doubtful.

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

Swerve laughs.

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

“It's not harmful?”

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

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

Jazz tilts his head

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

Swerve bites his knuckles.

“ I have some unfinished business?”

“Pshhhh you sound like a ghost.”

Swerve only laughs in response.

_______________

Concentration is tricky.

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

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

Shit. No. Earth. Think Earth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is the place where he was last.

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

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

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

Swerve's bites his knuckles. Okay.

All right.

He's got things to do.

_______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

The answer is probably none.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blurr's name isn't there.

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

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

That's...something's wrong.

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

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

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

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

Give me half an hour...okay, yeah.”

This is it, Swerve thinks.

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

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

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

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

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shi

Blurr looks like a mangled corpse.

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

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

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

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

“'Got bored without me Swindle?”

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

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

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

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

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

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

Swindle adjusts his glasses

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

“Because you like money” Blurr says without hesitation.

Swindle lets out a quiet chuckle.

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

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

Goes back to his seat.

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

He raises his hand when Blurr rushes to say something.

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

Swindle sighs and adjusts his glasses again

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

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

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

Swindle rubs the bridge of his nose

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

Blurr blinks.

“Why are you telling me all this.”

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

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

Blurr's eye widens

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

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

Blurr runs his fingers through his hair

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

Swindle puts his hat back on.

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

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

Swindle puts a hand on his shoulder.

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

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

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

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

Blurr smiles sourly.

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

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

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

Blurr bites his lip.

“I..don’t know...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, damn it.

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

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

Blurr ... is crumbling.

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

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

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

And continues to act like a jerk of course.

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

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

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

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

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

It's also an inconspicuous way to stay upright.

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

Investors say, “I think he likes me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes a difference. Small one. But still.

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

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

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

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

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

After another conference, Shockwave stops Blurr in the hallway.

“Good show.”

Blurr laughs. Soundly and proudly.

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

Swerve, hiding on the ceiling again, snorts.

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

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

Blurr shrugs and lazily turns his head around distracted.

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

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

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

Blurr freezes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blurr visibly shivers and looks away.

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

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

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

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

“You are broken. I can fix you.”

Blurr frowns, but takes the piece of paper.

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

Shockwave tucks the notepad into his pocket.

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

Blurr flinches.

“I don't need your help.”

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

...

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

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

____________________________

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

Holy shit...

Jazz pokes him gently on the forearm

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

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

Jazz laughs

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

Swerve sits up and rubs the back of his head.

“Ah...”

“So it worked?”

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

Jazz rubs his hands together happily.

“I'll take it.”

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

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

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

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

Left to himself.

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

....

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

He looks at Jazz and Prowl.

“You two get along really well.”

Jazz chuckles, sitting on Prowl's shoulder.

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

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

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

_____________________

”Are you a ghost?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blurr squints amusedly.

“You can walk through walls?”

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

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

“Cool!” says Blurr cheerfully.

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

“ Show me more?”

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

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

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

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

“They really drugged you huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

Race???”

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

Blurr drops his hands back on the blanket

“I won't.”

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

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

Swerve sits down quietly cross-legged on the blanket.

“Well...at least you're alive....”

Blurr shakes his head.

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

“...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swerve folds his arms awkwardly across his chest.

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

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

Swerve stiffens.

“I...Wwhat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You'll tell me later?”

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

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

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

Jazz looks at him. Very intensely.

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

Swerve snorts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swerve laughs.

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

_______________

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pharma smiles sweetly and reaches out for a handshake

“Mind some company?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pharma tilts his head

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

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

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

“What do you mea...”

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

“No I'm just...”

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

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

Swerve shakes his head.

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

“Wh..”

Blurr rolls his eye.

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

“Wait..”

“Tell me about it. Especially doctors.”

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

“Can at least one of you shut up??”

Swerve adjusts his cap in a businesslike manner

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

He raises his eyebrows knowingly

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

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

“…..Wha....there's rumors?”

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

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

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

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

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

Swerve shrugs.

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

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

A quiet cough sounds behind Swerve's back.

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

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

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

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

Blurr snorts one last time, cutting off the laughter.

Then he reaches out his hand to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You're real???”

Swerve awkwardly waves his hands in front of him

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

Blurr shrugs.

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

Swerve twitches.

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

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

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

Blurr laughs quietly.

“I'm glad you're back.”

_____________________

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

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

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

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

Jazz smiles

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

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

“Worried about what your human friends will think?”

Swerve swings back and forth on his heels

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

Jazz frowns

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

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