#that's crazy. Well [makes another character just like them]

[messenger-of-babel]

Could you write about the sweetheart grips? Soldiers in ww2 used to put photos of their lovers on the grips of their guns and I think that would be cute with Jason.

Eye for An Eye

Summary: Jason keeps a photo of you in his gun to keep you close to him, even in his hardest moments. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.7K

Notes: dear anon I really, really wanted to make this sweet. But then I got an angst idea and- I tried to do it justice without too many tears. Forehead kisses for you because as soon as you sent this in I legit thought about this idea for like three days straight I fell in love with the concept. I might use it again for other Jason fics you got me hooked (I was a MASSIVE military history nerd). Warnings for description of violence and injury, character death, some choppy writing. Back onto my angst train, I'm so sorry y'all (I'll write this concept sweeter sometime, I SWEAR).

ALSO HAPPY 100 POSTS. It's crazy when I remember I'm still a baby blog. <3

Enjoy~! RiRi xoxo <3

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Bruce had never been one for guns, and while Jason was Robin, he hadn't either.

He didn't consider himself a particularly violent child or had any real craving to use weapons. After all, he never really hit anyone who didn't deserve it, and he got great satisfaction of getting back at people who thought they could hurt innocent civilians just because they were bigger and older than him.

That was until he was taken by Joker and showed just how much hurt someone older and bigger than could inflict.

April 27th, the date that the Joker killed Jason Todd.

Now, he couldn’t imagine his hands without the comforting grip of his pistol. The grips were designed just for him, slotting into the contours of his fingers and worn away in the areas he instinctually rubbed. They were wide so they sat snug in his large palms, with a coarse texture in the areas he habitually flexed. The grip allowed it to stick to his gloves for a steadier shot while it would simply irritate anyone else who tried to hold them.

Everyone knew that those guns were Jasons, but nothing said it quite like the new addition of the faded photo tucked into the grips. The colt's had originally come with wooden handgrips, which were quickly removed while he made his modifications.

"You know the Bat isn't gonna be happy with you getting another set of guns." Dick calls out, approaching his worktable in the cave. Jason just grunts at him over his shoulder, making sure he keeps the screws where he can see them.

"Bruce can honestly suck it up." he huffs, the mention of the Bat souring his demeanour immediately. Jason had wanted to do this in his apartment for this exact same reason. He knew Stephanie would annoy him with questions if she caught sight of him, and that Tim would interject constantly with 'improvements' he deemed necessary. Duke he could deal with, and Cass would leave him well enough alone.

Dick and Damian just managed to piss him off simply existing sometimes.

Mostly when he was already in a bad mood.

His older brother trots down the stairs, a frown forming on his face as he puts his hands on his hips to observe.

"Quiet." Jason mumbles flatly, knowing the older vigilante was giving him a disapproving stare. Dick ignores him, eyeing the photo tucked up near his water bottle.

"Jason," he says, voice a warning tone.

"I said quiet." he cuts off, wiping the area down with a damp cloth. Dick just sighs behind him as Jason gingerly picks up the photo, rubbing his calloused thumbs over it. Dick wants to say something as he eyes the photo but can't bring himself to speak above the block in his chest. He watches the tension ease from his brother’s shoulders, the muscles that had been stiffly held by his ears for weeks. The scowl he wore softened slightly, and he could actually hear him exhale for once instead of wondering if his chest actually was moving or not. Instead, Dick sighs in reluctance, giving in. Dick watches him with sad eyes, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a slight squeeze. "Don't forget to, you know," he leans forward slightly and draws a circle with his finger on a certain point of the photo. Jason's face ripples with a flash of pain, but he watches his younger brother grit his teeth and nod.

"Look after yourself, Jay." he murmurs, pulling back. "Don't do anything stupid."

Jason waits a little bit before turning back the photo, ensuring that Dick had left the cave. A still silence settled over the dim space once more. It didn't help the hum in his head, making his fingers and muscles shake, the white noise refusing to settle in his conscious. He gently drew on the photo of you with pencil, tracing the shape that he needed for the grip and ensuring that you weren't cut out by accident.

It was a favourite photo of his, taken at one of Bruce's galas. He hadn't wanted to go, hardly showing to the events in the first place. "Full of rich idiots trying to get even richer." he had told you, tossing a look over his shoulder to you. You were standing at the door, holding the invite that had been slipped through the mail slot. You waved the thick cardstock, a small smile on your face. "Aw, but I was kinda looking forward to going." you say, looking over the details. "I think it'll be fun."

"The only one who thinks those things are fun are Dick and Steph if she's around. Tim will get bored and probably turn into a loan shark if left unattended too long. So yeah, fun." he grumbled.

"What about Dami?"

Her turns around, eyebrows raised.

"I’m sorry?" he asks. "When did we start calling the demon child, Dami? We're on nickname level now?"

He hates how his heart flutters in his chest when he hears you laugh, melting away his annoyance.

"He's sweet, just a little prickly. like you." you grin, coming to wrap your arms around his neck, pecking him on the lips.

"Yeah, he's sweet to you, he's a little shit to everyone else." he grumbles.

"Sounds like someone else I know." you tease.

He can't help but grin, sighing out through his nose softly. "Fine. we can go." he grumbles, knowing he won’t be able to stay mad at you for long.

The photo he traces was from that night, you tucked into his side. You're staring at the camera with a sparkle in your eye, lips pulled back into a wide grin. You're wearing black to fit the theme of the ball, with red accents, matching him. He’s got his arm around your shoulder, taking the photo with you pressed up against him. He thinks you look stunning, eyes twinkling at him from the page.

He takes the exacto knife and gently runs it over the image, cutting himself out so that he can focus on you. The piece pops free, and he trims the edges. His heart thrums as he slides you onto the handle, fluttering with a tame delight.

"Don't forget to, you know..."

Dick’s voice floats back into his mind, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards once more. Reluctantly he pulls your photo from the handle and reaches for a screwdriver to his left, bringing it above the paper. He feels like he's about to stab you, the way the metal tip hovers above the image smiling back at him.

But he does it, heart clenching with each scrape across your eyes, slowly erasing the twinkle he loved so much. There's something sickening about the feeling of scratching your face out, the gritty sound of the photo tearing and leaving white streaks in its wake making his stomach flip. Finally, it's done, stark white lines blotting out your gaze. All that's left is the upturn of your lips, and the soft smile you wore.

With a heavy sigh Jason slots it back onto the handle, placing the clear protector over you. At least nothing could damage you more than he already had. He told himself it was for the better, as he cleaned his hands on a nearby rag and bit the inside of his cheek. You weren't the most supportive of his guns, but you liked that they kept him safe. You had had a few conversations with him about it but never an argument. He wanted to keep you close, but he knew he wasn't going to be an idiot about it. He wanted to protect you, hide your identity from any eagle-eyed thugs.

"Besides," he thought to himself. "Don't want em seeing what I'm about to do."

Maybe it was for the best that he covered your face for this.

His body hums with adrenaline, still alone in the Batcave. With scarred fingers he screws the cover onto the grip, clear cover sitting flush and keeping your photo secure. Jasons tosses it a few times in his hand, getting used to the feeling of the new colt pistols and making sure you weren't going to shake loose. When he was content, he looked over his shoulder, scanning the shadows for movement.

He knew that Bruce would condemn his actions, he didn’t even need to ask on that front. Dick would be understanding but try to hold him back, and Tim would try to talk him out of it. The only person he felt that silently agreed with him was Damian, the pair of them fostering an unlikely bond in the last few weeks.

Everyone in the manor knew what Jason was thinking.

What Jason was doing spending his nights in the Batcave, the one place he had grown to hate ever since coming back.

What he contemplated as he haunted the halls of the manor, the place he often traded in for the comfort of his downtown apartment.

Everyone knew what Jason was going to do tonight, yet none of them were game enough to say it out loud or stop him.

Therefore, Jason took their silence as compliance because he knew somewhere deep down, they wanted him to do it.

Or was he deluding himself?

He shook the thought from his head, holstering the newly decorated pistol. He was already dressed and strapped for this mission, no turning back now. With heavy hands he donned his helmet, taking a deep breath as he pushed Jason aside to become Red Hood. The air was still, as if the Batcave was filled with spirits watching him in silence as he mounted the bike and pressed the key for the garage door, speeding out.

He was already haunted by too many ghosts.

The streets of Gotham were relatively quiet, the usual alleys he stalked devoid of the thugs he would have expected. It seemed that even the city was holding its breath, civilians tucked safely inside. He knew where he was going.

He had been receiving mocking invites in the mail for the last week, notes attached to crime scenes in a gory fashion just to mock him. So really, it was no surprise when he arrived at Gotham cemetery, parking outside and not even bothering to kill the engine. He wasn’t going to be long anyways.

Just past the cemetery was the crumbling shell of Arkham, ivy covering the brickwork and roof caving in. His boots crushed broken panes of glass as he entered the decaying mental hospital, leaves scattered through the building from wrinkled trees that had cracked through the floors. He slowly made his way to the upper floor, where he had seen the lights.

Instinctually he reached for his gun, and he felt his heart calm sliding his hand over your picture secured into his sweetheart grip. He hadn't felt this anxious fighting in a while, unused to the way that his pulse thudded against his neck or the dryness that crept into his mouth. The corridor felt like it stretched on forever, making his vision swim trying to reach the light at the end.

Candlelight flickered weakly at the end of the hall, luring him in like a moth. As he stepped in he took note of it, hand tightening. Jason knew he was going to play with him, taunt and torture him. The images of you taped up on the peeling walls were enough. Photos that spanned back months, photos of you on dates, at work, in his car, in your apartment, blurry photos of you and him in his bed. His thumb instinctually placed itself over your eyes, despite them already being scratched out.

He didn't need you seeing the messy patchwork of your life.

Jason didn't even mind the photos, knowing the sadist would be doing something like that. What he did mind though were the images of you from three weeks ago, the same images that Dick had refused to let him see, that Tim wiped off the Batcomputer hard drive and Babs had removed from the GCPD database. The ones displaying the blood, the bone, the bruising.

Your eyes, unseeing.

Everything that was so familiar to him, but so foreign on you.

Everything that that one curved piece of metal had caused way back when, stained a dark brown. The same piece of metal that was sitting in the middle of the desk at the centre of the crude shrine, drying with a fresher coat of oxidised red.

He felt his heart rise to his throat, but he wasn’t sure if it was bile in his throat or the taste of blood from his bitten lip. His grip turned white, muscles flexing under the skin and pressing unnaturally hard. He felt the green tinged mania inside him rear its head, threatening to take over his mind and act purely on instinct. The Lazarus pit clawed and pulled at his soul harder that it had in years, gasping at him like a beggar, screaming for a shred of violence to feed it.

He knew the game. He knew all of this was to provoke him, try to get Jason to release the rage inside him. The monster wanted to see him squirm, see him struggle to keep himself in check. He wanted to watch Jason Todd fight against the Red Hood, watch the Bats moral code play out on his face.

Well, Jason wasn't Batman. He wasn't Bruce.

As soon as a skinny figure moved from the shadows to his right, his pistol was out in a flash. His free hand ripped the mask from his face, jaw tight and eyebrows furrowed, but he felt more relaxed than he had been in ages.

He was no Batman. He was Jason Todd.

And Jason was going to do the one thing Bruce had always been too much of a coward to do.

With one crisp bang the clown couldn’t get a single word out before he was splayed on the floor. As Jason stepped over the body he regarded it apathetically, barely biting down the urge to step on it. The bastards’ lips were pulled back in a wide smile, even in death. Maybe he had expected Jason to do this, maybe it was his last hurrah as an asshole, but Jason didn't care.

He didn’t even feel scared at the idea of the aftermath as a retraced his steps out of the abandoned building, mounting his still-running bike.

There hadn't been a single gloat before the gun cracked through the night, not a single joke or pun or taunt to leave the devil’s mouth. Bruce might have entertained it, let him play it out, but not Jason.

For Jason, everything that needed to be said had been said in actions.

The air was strangely cool, devoid of the humidity that nomrally hung in the streets. The city itself seemed to be sighing, taking a breath like the chord holding the city on a leash had been cut. He relished the feeling of it on his skin, the cracks in his suit letting the breeze run across his knuckles and where his mask met his neck. He imagined the cool fingers were you, cradling his face and whispering for him to take a rest, and he let his eyes flutter closed briefly.

 As he hit a red light he took a pause, reaching his hand down to pat where you were, tucked tightly under his hip. He didn't care what the reaction was going to be when he reached the manor, or the screaming match that was likely going to destroy what was left of his relationship with his pseudo father. All that matters is that he had done right by you, that he had done what he wished someone had done for him.

April 17th, the night Jason Todd killed the Joker.

[ametunns]

THIS CONCEPT IS SO FAMILIAR WITH THE CAGE. And this idea can't leaving me-

Below I'll discuss the character Keeper in the BATDR; some guesses about the role of this new character in the Cage. Enjoy reading!

# The Keepers. In the BATDR >>>

ofc in the ink world this versions of the Keepers are works because -

a giant gear in the spine is not bad for balance when picked up a weight stuff in forward;

the third hand is nice for supporting a thing or a person (not just for correcting its back lol/j);

ability to flying is actually about movement, way to make a painful high-speed strike by massive left hand / catching by right hand. Рerhaps "crawling" on appendages rather than legs makes it easier to walk around the ruins of the studio. And once again - they can fly.

Despite the fact that they have yellow inside, which indicates the presence of a soul, they do not react to the Signal Towers. I can only suggest that Wilson created "Yellow ink", and inside Keeper are not "Golden ink". Otherwise the Golden ink would have provided a link to Demon power, and metal octopus would have been against Wilson sooner or later.

...I personally think that it is easier to get the lost one's soul with the help of saws, and then start changing the soul in order to place it inside something. Like make a "soul semblance" - "Yellow ink" as I called it; get fairly similar minds, which is ideal for Keeper.

In case he's design looks silly, slowly moved, pretty blind because of the game mechanic-

but if you take them as those who can:

performs certain tasks,

move through space almost without interference,

catch the intruder,

conduct an experiment,

or even performing small construction work (for example, conducting power grids through a train tunnel)-

Within the framework of the lore of the world, these creatures, as they are, have done a lot.

# But what about the previous version of Keeper? Let's check out >>>

This creation is much more complex than would be seen...

Yes, we saw how Boris was turned into Brutal. That the mind can be partially rewritten. The sawing process also has a rewriting process. But-

A hybrid of a living mind and metal structures for the first experiments...it sounds like rewriting biology so that the body doesn't go crazy and start self-destructing because of unperfected souls and the realization of what they has become. And even Wilson can't make a perfect soul if he invited Audrey in the Cycle.

...Aaa-and also can tell about the REAL HUMAN in IT'S CREATION AND BLOOD...but a little later-

Attempts to create Wilson own being is unstable...and that is why we'll can meet them in a Cage!!! :D

# Details in the photos >>>

First thing - is another hoses behind;

Second - he had 3 hands, and maybe one of them (as possible 4 hand) is free from the lockers; you can also see that the lower hand is thinner and the plate on the outside of the palm glitters;

Last thing - a familiar detail.

Nothing more...

but a general similarity to the concept

# His role in the Cage. Theories and thoughts >>>

It's interesting things...Let's back to the thought that it can be a human. How much it will affect the story? Well-

Role #1 - He's a living proof about experiment of humans.

...the Gent corporation literally drowned people in ink ("Fade of Black");

And there is a temporary antidote to ink in the form of the chemical "iron oxide", which also resembles blood ("The Lost Ones");

It seems that through chemistry and past research, Wilson was able to create colored ink, a way to get back to the real world, and in collaboration with Alice, who lives in half of his house, and with Ink Machine, he was already beginning to think about creating a Keeper. About getting "the first good soul"...Pick out the right clothes, became anyone from Arch Gate Pictures, not just a humble cleaner. But after understood the difficulties (let's say, with blood) and maybe managed to update the methods for creating ink creatures...And my theory "Yellow ink" from Lost Ones.

Due to the details, a human being in the creature is doesn't't look like something unexpected, but it would definitely be intriguing.

Role #2 - If he's able to talk, new information about the corporation. Maybe even about Alan Gray. Maybe gives some hints of how getting away from the Cage idk just a thought-

A human being who was trapped into a monster for someone else's purposes it's pretty similar to Henry...ahem

Role #3 - Abilities of the blood. Perhaps we'll see hints of blood power in Lone Wolf. But in essence - there will definitely be something new...and something more powerful.

...What role will he play for the Henry.. it's unclear:

It's easy to say - this is the enemy who thoughtlessly wants to kill the hero.

It's easy to say - we can have a possible "free it" quest for game necessaries.

Possible to say - two points together 🤝

The last thing what I wanted to say:

‼️ I'm praying LIKE HELL he's not leaked FOR A COUPLE OF SECONDS like it was with all the new BATDR characters. Like Sammy-🥲

---

thank you for reading! If you have any ideas or thoughts, comments please! I'll be interested ⭐

☕ Have a good time!!

[kikyoupdates]

Girlfriend-For-Hire ⭑˚🦋⭑ 𝟶𝟽

yandere!ocs x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, yandere reverse harem, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Hoping to try something new and earn a bit of money on the side, you join an app that lets people hire you for your dating services. The idea is pretty straightforward — you pose as the client's girlfriend for a brief period of time, and in turn, you receive payment. But you didn't foresee everyone getting so attached to you, and suddenly, they're no longer satisfied with a fabricated relationship.

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“Come here, little ducks. I’ve got a bunch of yummy seeds for you guys to eat.” 

You crouch down, leaning closer to the edge of the lake as you scatter seeds across the water’s surface. They all come flocking around, trying to gather the food up as quickly as they can.

“They like it,” you beam towards Liam. “Good idea bringing all these seeds along. It’s been a while since I got to do something like this.” 

Liam smiles back. “Don’t mention it. You look like you’re having fun.” 

“Mhm! I love animals. They’re so cute and interesting. And even if we don’t completely understand them, it’s cool how they find different ways of communicating with us.” 

“Yeah, there’s all kinds of crazy stuff going on in the animal kingdom. Animals are a lot smarter than some people give them credit for.” Liam pauses for a moment, then sheepishly scratches his head. “When I was younger I actually wanted to become a veterinarian. But obviously there’s a lot of work that goes into that sort of thing. Even if I went to university, I’m not sure I would’ve had what it takes.” 

Axel leans over his boyfriend’s shoulder and pouts. “Don’t say that, babe. You’re super smart. You always learn things way faster than I do. I bet you could have easily done it. And it’s never too late to start, right?” 

“It’s fine,” Liam chuckles, tousling Axel’s hair. “It’s not like I’m not happy with my current career. I was just imagining another outcome, that’s all.” 

“Well, if you ever find something else you want to try, I’ll be right behind you. You should be able to do whatever makes you happy.” 

Axel wraps his arms around Liam and gives him a big hug, and even though this date is technically supposed to be between all three of you, you can’t help but feel like you’re slightly out of place. They’ve just got such a sweet and lovey-dovey relationship. It’s enough to make you blush. 

“Thanks for saying you’d support me,” Liam smiles. He squeezes Axel’s hand, then crouches down beside you. “Anyways, I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent. I just wanted to say I really like animals too. Oh!” 

His eyes widen, and at first you’re not sure why, but then you follow his gaze and realize that one of the smaller ducks has decided to climb out of the water. It stands up on its cute webbed feet, spends a few moments shaking its tail feathers off, then proceeds to tilt its head at you and stare. 

“I think it might want to say hi,” Liam whispers, being careful not to scare the duck off. 

“That or it wants more birdseed,” you whisper back. 

“Ah. Yeah, that’s probably it.” 

“I’ve heard ducks can be pretty aggressive, you know,” Axel remarks to no one in particular. You notice that he’s not getting close to the duck like you and Liam. He’s probably not that big on animals.

“You’re probably thinking of geese,” Liam dismisses. 

“Nah, ducks too. I’ve definitely heard that they can get really territorial and stuff.” 

“Is that why you’re standing so far back? Because you’re scared of this one little duck?” 

“...no.” 

Axel crosses his arms and frowns, but he still doesn’t step up, so honestly, it’s not too convincing. 

You and Liam exchange knowing looks, even chuckling a few times under your breaths, but before you can consider teasing Axel any more, the duck walks right up to you and lets out a proud, resounding quack. 

“Aww,” you gush. “Look at this cutie.” 

“He’s adorable,” Liam nods in agreement. “Here, little guy. We’ve still got lots of seeds left for you.” 

Both of you hold out hands filled with birdseed. The duck takes a moment to ponder its options, then starts pecking at the seeds directly from your palm. You giggle at the sensation of its beak nuzzling your skin. 

“Damn, lucky!” Liam whines. “I want to feed him too.” 

“We can take turns. Here, I’ll pull my hand away so he can go over to you next.” 

You do just that, and unsurprisingly, the duck heads directly towards the nearest source of food. Liam’s eyes are practically glowing with excitement as he watches the duck happily eat straight from his hand. 

Axel shakes his head. “Man. Aren’t you guys scared he’ll bite your fingers off?” 

“Ducks don’t have teeth, Axel,” Liam sighs. He gives you a look that seems to say, ‘Sorry about him. He’s hardly a duck connoisseur.’ 

“But they can still bite, I’m pretty sure.” 

“Are you seriously scared of ducks? How am I just now finding out about this?” 

“Pfft.” You giggle and tentatively reach a hand out while Liam feeds the duck, and as chance as would have it, the duck sits still and lets you pet its back (much to Axel’s horror). 

Honestly, if it was up to just you and Liam, you probably would have played with the ducks for an absurd amount of time, but you feel bad that Axel isn’t being included in this activity, so you suggest doing something else. 

“That was fun, but you mentioned wanting to get something to eat, right?” 

“Yes,” Axel says, exhaling loudly. “Yes, finally. No more ducks. I don’t want to see any more ducks ever again.” 

Liam shakes his head. “I still can’t believe my boyfriend is scared of ducks.” 

“I already said I’m not scared of them! Anyways, whatever! Let’s just go!” 

He storms off comically, and once again, you and Liam proceed to look at each other and burst out laughing.

You walk back the way you came from and eventually leave the park. Axel already seems to have a few places in mind for where you can go to grab food, and he looks excited to voice his suggestions. 

“This place has really good reviews,” Axel beams as he swings the front door open. 

“I’m sure it’ll be great. You always know how to pick them,” Liam encourages. Axel nods happily and steps inside the restaurant, and while his back is turned, Liam leans in to whisper in your ear. “Please just humor him. Even if the food’s bad, try not to let it show. He gets really bummed out about these kinds of things.” 

So, he’s scared of ducks and also gets all pouty when things don’t go his way. That’s kind of cute.

You sit down at one of the booths and start skimming through the menu. Thankfully, it looks pretty promising. Odds are that everything will taste great and Axel’s feelings will be spared.

You end up being seated right in between Axel and Liam, which feels a bit strange, since it’s sort of like you’re acting as a barrier between the couple. They seem fine with it though, and you suppose this is supposed to be a date involving you as well. So far it’s felt more like hanging out with your friends, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially since you’re getting paid on top of everything else. 

“What are you gonna get, [Name]?” 

Axel leans over, bumping shoulders with you in the process. The booth is big enough for the three of you to sit comfortably, but he isn’t shy about getting close. The lack of distance makes your face heat up a little bit. These guys really are way too attractive for their own good. 

“I’m not sure yet,” you admit, hoping it’s not too obvious that you’re blushing. “What about you? Have you already decided?” 

“Sure have,” he grins. “I’m getting the steak. And the ribs. And the spicy hot wings.”

That’s a lot of protein…

“Axel has a big appetite,” Liam says, flipping through the menu. “I keep telling him he eats way too much meat and needs more variety in his diet, but he doesn’t listen.” 

“How is my fault that meat tastes so good?” 

“Your body’s going to hate you one day when you’re not young and fit. I also don’t understand how your skin always looks so nice, even with all the junk you eat.” Liam sighs and lightly pats his cheeks. “Meanwhile, I break out constantly if I’m not careful.”

“Being a model full-time sure sounds difficult,” you frown. “I obviously don’t know all the details, but I’ve heard it’s really hard always staying in perfect shape.” 

“It depends. Some people you work with are more lenient than others, but yeah. I’ve definitely met my fair share of assholes that made me adhere to ridiculous standards. That’s just the industry, though. It’s super competitive, so you need to be willing to go above and beyond. Which is why I’m getting a salad today.” 

“He works so hard,” Axel sniffles. “I would literally kill myself if I ever had to eat a salad.” 

You chuckle, but in all honesty, you doubt he was kidding.

Eventually, you figure out what you want to eat, and soon enough, the server comes back with all your orders. Axel’s dishes alone cover the majority of the table. Setting aside the fact that it’s literally just meat, the sheer quantity that he’s about to consume is enough to make you feel ill.

You decide to avoid looking at his side of the table and just focus on yourself.

“It’s good,” you remark, and you’re not just saying that to make Axel happy. The food is good. Going to this restaurant was the right decision after all. 

“My salad’s really good too,” Liam nods. 

“How good can it possibly be? It’s a salad,” Axel shudders, as if merely uttering the word causes him immense pain. 

Liam shoots him a pointed glare out of the corner of his eye, and Axel proceeds to take a big bite out of his ribs, unbothered. Meanwhile, you struggle to hide the smile spreading across your lips. Being with these two is a lot of fun. 

“Oh. [Name], you���ve got a little something on your face,” Axel suddenly remarks. 

“I do?” 

Your face reddens. How embarrassing. You’re not usually a messy eater, which is why you’re surprised to see Axel reaching towards you with a napkin. You squeeze your eyes shut so he can gently pat the napkin across the corners of your mouth.

“Th-Thanks,” you say. “I appreciate it.” 

Axel grins. “It’s no big deal. There were only a few crumbs. I just wanted to try doing that. So, now it’s your turn, right?” 

He gestures towards the little patches of sauce on his face, which you were debating telling him about, but he clearly seems aware. It’s no surprise he’s made a mess, considering the loaded meal he’s been chowing down on.

You chuckle softly. “Alright, then. Hold still so I can clean this up for you.” 

Axel beams at you, clearly happy as can be. He didn’t initially strike you as the type who enjoys being spoiled, but then again, he’s scared of ducks and refuses to eat vegetables, so perhaps it’s not all that surprising. 

Your back is turned towards Liam the whole while, so it goes without saying that you don’t notice the pained look in his eyes.

“All done,” you say, and Axel sighs disappointedly. 

“That felt so nice,” he whines. “Will you play with my hair later? I love it when Liam plays with my hair.” 

“I can just do that for you at home,” Liam suggests, a slight desperation in his voice. 

“But I want [Name] to do it for me,” Axel insists. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close while grinning. “[Name]’s so cute and nice. I can’t believe you’re not actually dating someone for real. People are seriously missing out.” 

You blush again. The flattery is practically nonstop with this guy. Well, you suppose you aren’t complaining, and it's nice to know that he’s having a good day. 

“...yeah. She’s really cute and nice,” Liam mumbles in agreement. He smiles at you, briefly, then turns away and starts poking at his salad. 

For just a second, his expression looked a bit off. Were you imagining it? 

“Man, I don’t want today to end,” Axel sighs, still hugging you. “I can’t wait for us to do this again. You’re fine with that, right, [Name]? You’d be open to seeing us again?” 

“Of course,” you nod. “I’ve been having a great day. You two are a lot of fun to be around. What about you, Liam? Would you want to do this again sometime?” 

Liam freezes up. Once again, he’s surprised that you’re bothering to check with him. He’s so used to Axel leading the conversation. He’s got a big personality and has a tendency to sweep everyone up in his own pace. 

But you were right to ask him. Initially, Axel said this would only be a one time thing, and he agreed to it just to make him happy. However, it’s clear now that he isn’t comfortable doing this. You’re a great person, and he genuinely enjoys being around you, but he’s not sure he can ever imagine sharing his boyfriend with someone else. It’s nothing personal. It’s just… not something he feels okay doing. 

So, he needs to be vocal about this and tell Axel how he feels. Surely then, he’ll understand. The fact that he was willing to even try should already count for something. It has to. 

Liam offers you an appreciative look, then turns towards Axel.

“I’m—” 

“Liam wants to do this again too. Of course he does,” Axel says, waving his hand and practically dismissing him before he can get a word in. “We talked about it before. And he would’ve told me if he wasn’t having a good time.” 

Liam desperately tries to hide the shock on his face. 

What? He… never promised anything. All he said was that he would try this out and make his decision afterwards. Why is Axel acting like it’s already a sure thing that he’ll want to keep going?

“Today’s been great,” Axel hums. He leans up against you, shoving your body closer to Liam’s and effectively pushing you into his arms. “Going on a date is way more fun with all three of us. Right, Liam?” 

Axel finally meets Liam’s gaze, and the look in his eyes is so painfully expectant that Liam can’t think of a way to refuse. He knows he should. He’s an adult, with his own voice and his own opinions. But for some reason… it feels wrong. It feels like he’s not allowed to do what he wants and risk upsetting Axel in the process. 

Liam hasn’t had a relationship worth protecting until now. He’s only dated losers, assholes, or shitty girls who went behind his back and cheated on him. That’s why he’s so afraid. He’s afraid that saying the wrong words will ruin the best thing that ever happened to him.

And so, he buckles.

“Yeah,” Liam smiles. He’s used to forcing a smile. He does it for work all the time. “It’s been a lot of fun. We should definitely do this again.” 

You stare at him long and hard. Part of you still gets this strange feeling, this feeling that he isn’t being completely transparent. But you’re not the one who can make this choice for him, and he’s had every opportunity to come forward with the truth. 

“Great,” you smile back. “I’m happy to hear it.”

Axel lets out a happy cheer, and even leans across the booth so that he can pull Liam into his arms as well. Between the three of you, it’s hot, stuffy, and there’s not much wiggle room, but Axel seems to be loving every moment of it.

Liam’s eyes lower to the ground.  

It’s okay. Just one more time. He’ll go on just one more date, and then he’ll tell Axel how he really feels. 

Definitely.

It’s late. Normally, at this time of the night, you would be curled up inside your apartment, either doing homework, watching TV, or scrolling mindlessly through your phone. It’s nearly time for you to be going to bed, but instead of sitting comfortably at home, you’re standing out in the chilly night air, dressed in a skirt that you grossly underestimated how short it is. 

And what’s the reason for all of this? 

Your job, of course. 

“[Name]! Hell yeah, you actually made it,” Callum grins. 

He walks over to greet you in a hug, but you’re too preoccupied with shivering from your poor choice of dress, so you give him a half-hearted fist bump instead. 

There’s a party on campus tonight. Well, there’s probably several parties on campus, but this is the one that Callum invited you to, because he heard that Nadia would be going as well. And since he fully intends to make her jealous and eventually win her back—a plan that you still aren’t totally convinced by—he hired you to come out and be here with him. 

“You look really nice,” Callum says. He offers you a lazy, but well-meaning smile. You appreciate the compliment, and you were hoping you looked nice, but right now you’re honestly freezing your ass off. The sooner you get inside, the better. 

“Thanks,” you nod. “You look nice too. I, um. I like your t-shirt.” 

Callum stares at you for a few moments, then throws his head back and explodes into laughter. “Haha! Ha, that’s good. You know, you really don’t have to force yourself to say something nice. Most guys don’t exactly put as much effort into their outfits as girls do.” 

“It’s a nice t-shirt,” you shrug. 

“Well, I appreciate you saying that. Come on,” he gestures, beckoning you along. “Let’s get going. This is around the time people were saying Nadia would be showing up. If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll run into her right from the beginning.” 

You nod and follow him. Even though you still have your doubts about whether or not Nadia will actually want to get back together with him, you’re done worrying about it. He’s the client, and you’re here to do a job. All you can do is play your part, and play it well. You’re being paid whether or not his plan succeeds, and honestly? Part of you is hoping it won’t, only because they’re so clearly not good for each other. You want Callum to be able to move on with his life and find someone who treats him well. Someone who genuinely makes him happy. 

But until that happens, you’re in for one hell of a ride. 

“I mentioned before that some buddies of mine are gonna be at this party too, right? I think you’ll like them,” Callum says. He scratches his cheek, then laughs. “And they’ll probably like you too. None of my friends can really stand Nadia. They always tell me she’s a massive bitch and I need to drop her already.” 

Yikes. Even his friends are advising him to find someone else, but he still has no intention of doing it. His relationship with Nadia truly is a horror show. 

“Honestly, they’ll probably suggest I start dating you instead,” Callum adds in a casual, nonchalant tone.

“But we’re still telling them we’re just friends, because that’s what we agreed on. Right…?” 

You blink warily. You hope this whole thing isn’t one big setup, because you’ll be really pissed off. If he deceives you again, then you have no intention of keeping him as a client. 

“Don’t worry,” Callum reassures. “I’m only going to tell people that you’re my friend. I’m just assuming how they’ll react, because I know they’re desperate for me to date other girls apart from Nadia. They just really want her out of my life. Which I get, because again, she’s kind of fucking crazy.” 

I am very much aware. 

You let out a sigh. It’s weird to think that you’re being paid to essentially butt into someone else’s relationship. If someone had asked you how you would be earning money, you could never have predicted it would be like this. 

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. There’s no shame in what you’re doing. If other people can hold their heads up high while working this job, then so can you. 

“Looks like we’re here,” Callum says. He points towards a big house further up ahead, where there’s a line of people waiting outside to be let in. It’s even busier than you were expecting. You’re not much of a partygoer to begin with, but damn. You can already tell people are going to get wasted out of their minds. 

Callum pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Hold up. I’m gonna text my friends and see where they’re at. One of them is pretty close with some of the frat guys, so I think we’ll be able to get in for free. We might be able to skip the line too.” 

You nod and step back while you wait for him to do his thing. He’s trying to call his friends, but it looks like he might be having a hard time getting through to them, because no one’s picking up. They might already be in the house and can’t hear their phones ringing. The music is blasting even way out here, so you can only imagine how loud it is on the inside. 

Pretty much all you can do is twiddle your thumbs while you wait for Callum to tell you what the plan is, so you absently walk around in place, hoping that it won’t be much longer—you’re seriously freezing. 

All of a sudden, someone bumps into you from behind. 

But it’s not a little bump. It’s not the kind of bump that just startles you and might make you look around in surprise. 

No, it’s the kind of bump that knocks you flat onto the ground and lands you right on your palms and knees. 

The kind of bump that was done on purpose. 

“O-Ouch…” 

You grit your teeth and wince. The fall was far from pleasant, and you know that your tights definitely ripped from the impact. It hurts like a bitch, and when you slowly peel one of your hands away from the concrete, the skin of your palm is covered in angry red scrapes. Part of it has even begun to bleed. 

“Aw, I’m so sorry,” a nasally, disgustingly-fake voice cuts in. It’s a voice you recognize, unfortunately. You don’t even have to turn your head to know who it is. 

But you do it anyway, and you’re met with a hateful grin. 

“So sorry about that,” Nadia says, looking anything but. She twirls a lock of hair around one of her fingers and chuckles. “But it was really your fault for not looking where you were going. Maybe don’t walk around like an airhead next time, okay, love?” 

You don’t say anything. You refuse to debase yourself and sink to her level. But either way, one thing is certain. 

She’s not going to make this easy for you. 

Enjoying the story so far? More chapters are available on Quotev!

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🦋 main masterlist ♡ character appearances

[stokesc]

chase: i love getting to portray different characters, it's so much fun to dive deep into another person. i thought there were idols that were actors too, but that's never appealed to you? i just want to make sure i don't look foolish at your concert and all. 😊 i was wondering about your fans, and i'll try my best to fit in with them. oh, riley is cooler than me, honestly. well, it's a complicated family, but it's a happy one in general! i'll say that. it's just i'm my parents only child, and they're divorced, so my siblings are from my mom's second marriage and my dad's second marriage. chase: handsome, i doubt you could be obnoxious if you tried. stitch will always be my favorite, but you've got good taste because belle is pretty great too! we'll have to get your picture with her then, right? oh..we'll not talk about how i sing the songs from encanto a lot, and very loudly. but yes they're at the park, so getting to see them with you will be fun. your crazy schedule doesn't bother me, i know you're all over the place and i understand that. my schedule is about to get hectic with filming outer banks, so i get it. see, just thinking about your street food has me hungry right now. like i'm craving tteokbokki right now, and i know it would be so much better there. and i'll have to visit thailand too, haha i'm a growing boy, so i like to eat. you want to impress me? there you go being cute again. but i get it, because i want to impress you too. 🧡 really? you want the same thing? and i thought i was the only one that craved it, so it's nice to know i'm not alone in that. as someone with curly hair as well, i get the taming of it, but sometimes you can't win 😂. i bet you'll look sexy no matter what, though. i do! his name is milo, and he's a german shepherd and golden retriever mix! you have two kitties? i'll admit to watching a lot of cat videos on tiktok because cats make me laugh, but i love all animals too.

taemin: it takes a lot of talent to be able to portray a character honestly. i'm definitely not an actor but i admire those who can. some idols do acting as well and i'm always in awe. i mean, i think that's sweet that you want to know the songs. 🥹 my fans are.. a little intense. just so you're warned about it. they'll have lightsticks and merch in tow. i'm sure she's great if she's anything like you. your whole family must be so wholesome, right? i can only imagine the all american family honestly. which is so sweet. taemin: well.. i guess that's true. i just don't want to be obnoxious. stitch is awesome, that's totally understandable. i love belle, i have since i was little honestly. though i also recently got really into encanto, so i heard they're at the park now.. i like that idea too, if you're okay with the crazy schedule i keep.. that's usually another issue for me with dating. most people don't want to date someone with such a schedule. we have amazing street foods and honestly? they're so reasonable in price. thailand is another place that has such good street food, i want to go back so bad. well.. i don't get to wear these outfits other than like events, so it's nice to break them out. plus, obviously i want to impress you 🙈. me too, i want the same thing. honestly, i kind of crave it. i like the stability of it. no that's so cute, i'm just trying to tame my hair. it has a mind of its own since it's naturally curly 😂😅. aww, you have a dog? i have two kitties back at home. they're so adorable, i love all animals.

[boobchuy]

hell yeah

[lovesickeros]

lord its so dark in here the sahara desert of tsaritsa content you are like a shining oasis. your characterisation of her compels me & mihoyo would be hard pressed to top it imo.!! caaaaan i humbly request yr thoughts on her first meeting w a reader of any kind, or maybe even multiple kinds (sagau, sagau god au, isekai, etc) if you so desire...

it really is like a desert here. being the fan of a character we aren't getting until the last damn nation is driving me up a wall but i will persevere bc if nothing else i support morally bankrupt women in media. we r in a severe drought over here but i do my best. unfortunately nothing i say is ever coherent so pull out your translation notes its abt 2 be messy

also this got out of hand but thats bc first meetings w the tsaritsa are tricky to write + a LOT of her characterization lies in deeper exploration then just surface level yknow...NOT A DIG AT YOU this is just my excuse for rambling. gently pats the tsaritsa she can hold so much complexity i do not have the word count to delve into it completely :]

gonna talk cult au for a bit here though because that's 99% of my content. and honestly? she thrives in sub au's of the cult au like villain au + imposter au. it's basically made for her. i mean, early days, the imposter au had been going around for a little while but one of the first few ideas was the Fatui taking reader in so like. it kinda technically actually was. pretty sure cult au Tsaritsa popped up because of the imposter au. a lot of it's writers kinda left though which. man am i getting old or.

anyway.

there isn't much of a chance her first impression is all that positive. at best it's usually neutral, imo, but rarely if ever positive. specifically because i view the Tsaritsa as someone who isn't as fanatical as most of the acolytes typically are towards the creator. she's not exactly going to worship the ground you walk on unlike a certain geo lizard. which is partially why i think she thrives in the sub au's i mentioned.

imposter au, for example. she meets you at your lowest. there's no gaudy extravagance or pampering from the acolytes waiting for you because your own acolytes have turned on you. for all intents and purposes you aren't a "god" at all. which is why i don't think she meshes well with normal cult au reader. the Fatui are made up of outcasts, basically, and imposter au slots right in just perfectly. you're weak, at your lowest, when you meet the Fatui in the imposter au. and the Fatui can help you, too.

a mutual exchange, really. the Tsaritsa sees a tool she can use to one up the rest of the nations and especially Archons, and she has no qualms about you using her and the Fatui in turn. you both want something out of it, after all. whether you just want to be safe from the rest of the acolytes, or you want revenge, or whatever else..she'll give you the power to fulfill it, and she gains the strongest piece on the chessboard when all is said and done.

the best way i can describe the first meeting is "practical", i suppose. she sees an opportunity in you. the ultimate gamble. because if she "saves" you, and you dont trust anyone else because they tried to kill you, well..she holds all the cards, doesn't she?

but the Tsaritsa, imo, is just as capable of being just as fanatical towards you as anyone else. she just won't worship you as the creator. but as yourself? clawing your way back to your divine power and taking back what belongs to you? the Tsaritsa is, to me, a character who's character flourishes in long-term fics more because she changes a LOT between "just met reader" and after having been with reader for some time. she's practically apathetic at the beginning but a lot of her character, in my characterization, shines through LONG after the first meeting.

[kakusu-shipping]

HELLO THERE

My name is Emile, I'm a Proship selfshipper who loves drawing other people's Self Inserts above anything else and for this week and this week only I am opening $10 RUSH ORDER SKETCH COMMISSIONS!

Do you want a drawing of you and your F/O for cheap and don't mind it being a little rough? Consider DMing me and you could get something like This!

For the low low price of $10 a sketch!!!

And as a bonus!! If you end up liking your sketch and would like it lined, colored, or even fully rendered, you can DM me next week and I will happily slash the price of a full piece just for you!!!

From right this very second through Thursday night my DMs will be open to anyone interested! I only have Paypal to accept payment so please be aware of that!

Thankyou for your time!

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)

[impish-ivy]

Here’s a refresher of how Asmo and Solomon forged their pact.

Spoilers for lesson 7

Welp. That’s that.

He was not forced or manipulated into a pact in NB. He wanted to forge a pact, he literally says so.

This pact is a huge part in Asmo fully accepting he’s a demon. By saying he was manipulated into this pact you’re taking a ton of Asmo’s agency as a character away.

[deviousdiesel]

.

[pankomako]

i bet you could make like a chart of which content creators know each other and what sorta friend groups/circles they're part of and it would just be a HUGE web with a LOT of overlap between groups and it'd be SO messy with just the sheer amount of friendships between creators

[tariah23]

ur tags on that kenjaku post… oh my god you saw that too? i was truly horrified

YEAH… I saw that shit, I hate stsg so much lmfaooo. It’s so obvious that they want Getou to be the “girl,” so badly. He’s getting the treatment of every dark haired best friend in a popular shounen 🚶🏾‍♀️. He’s too good of a character for this!

[keeps-ache]

almost done with this second part, i am SoFast :33

[lymtw]

Roommate!Toji

Roommate!Toji who notices that you aren't exactly a ray of sunshine when you first move in, but completely understands the reasoning behind it once you explain your situation. You had to run away from your cheating ex boyfriend, because he started acting crazy when you confronted him and broke up with him all in one go.

Roommate!Toji who, despite rarely seeing you, developed the fattest crush on you and was torn between not wanting to act like a kid in elementary school about it, but also not being extremely assertive, because he thought it might turn you off.

Roommate!Toji who doesn't get to act either way around you, because you promised him that you would make yourself as unnoticeable as possible when you're home, and that you wouldn't be an issue for him, at all. You rarely leave your room when you're home, and when you see that he's in a room you need something from, you spin on your heel and immediately retreat, not coming back out for at least half an hour to ensure that he's not there anymore.

Roommate!Toji who hates that you're actually keeping your word about this. It really is like he's still living alone, until you briefly appear when you are either heading out or getting home. It's always a quiet "hi" or "goodnight" and if he's lucky, it's, "hey, Toji" and "goodnight, Toji". Sometimes, he only gets a glance from you as you quickly stride past him to get to your room. Those nights usually come with the sounds of sniffling and stuttered deep breaths, that make Toji furrow his eyebrows through a mixture of sentiments, when he hears them outside your door.

Roommate!Toji who sees you leave your room one night, all dolled up and wearing a dangerously seductive perfume he has never smelled on you before. His posture straightens like that of an obedient dog with a treat dangling in its face, and he almost stands up to follow you to the door, but he wills himself to stay down and asks the questions that are on his mind, before you leave.

Roommate!Toji who is in awe when he hears a consistent flow of your voice answering his questions about your plans, rather than just the usual quick greeting and goodnight. It's the longest you have spoken to him since you moved in and it's the sound equivalent of drizzling honey—sweet, smooth, and pleasant. With an awkward, borderline hypnotized nod, he stops being a distracting chatterbox and lets you go with a final "Well... have fun."

Roommate!Toji who does not miss another opportunity to know what is still bringing you all this misery, when you come back looking like you had the opposite of fun. As you're about to wordlessly stroll past him, to go to your room, he stops you with a "hey" and grabs a beer from his pack, extending it towards you while patting the spot on the couch next to him. It's a whole different type of relief when you inch closer, hesitantly, but take the drink and sit where he directed you to sit.

Roommate!Toji who finds the way you start out acting timidly towards him, to be adorable. You sat where he wanted you to sit, out of politeness, but you crossed your legs and arms so that you didn't accidentally touch him. That all goes out the window when your politeness does not allow you to refuse his offering of more drinks. You open up and you relax your limbs and it's as if you don't even realize—or maybe you don't care, anymore—that your shoulder and your knee is right against his.

Roommate!Toji who listens to you ramble on, tipsily, about how your ex has been finding all kinds of ways to get in contact with you, going to the extent of making new social accounts and getting new phone numbers every time he breaks character and reveals that it's him. You look bothered as you retell the amount of times your ex has told you he's sorry and that he wants you back.

Roommate!Toji who realizes you're crying when he catches the waver in your voice as you tell him that the situation is making you miserable and that you don't know what to do, anymore. It's one of the saddest things he's ever seen. Your body is trembling from your attempt to keep your emotions contained, your lips are quivering, and you're looking down at your lap, as if you're embarrassed about being upset.

Roommate!Toji who does not hesitate to pull you in for a tight hug when you hide your face with your hands. He does not mind that you're soaking his shoulder with your tears. He comforts you by caressing the back of your head and drawing circles on your back with his palm. For a brief moment, his nose has full access to the intoxicating scent you're doused in and god, it's beautiful. So fitting for you.

Roommate!Toji who wipes your cheeks with his thumbs and keeps them dry when your tears keep flowing as you recount your history with your ex and how you found out he was cheating on you. You're breaking Toji's heart, but he's not going to stop you. With how passionately and in depth you're describing it all, it really seems like he's the first to have listened to you about the subject.

Roommate!Toji whose heart drops when you tell him that if your ex finds you, you're going to have to move, again. Immediately, he's throwing out solutions. "We can get the police involved—file a restraining order..." "Got a couple pocket knives you can have..." "I can wait for you to get off work, outside your building..."

Roommate!Toji who hasn't killed anyone in years, but knows that if thrown into a situation that required him to do so, his abilities would not be rusted. All those innocent suggestions he blurted out, were merely to provide some comfort for you and to help you begin to understand that he can help you if you tell him things. Only Toji knows that if the idiot shows up looking for you, he's getting picked off without a warning.

Roommate!Toji whose heart rate increases when you smile at him with your tired, now, unintentionally sad-looking eyes, and when you wrap your arms around him this time, he finds he doesn't want to let go of you. You smell so good and you're so warm against him. He's in a daze, with this mixture of alcohol and you.

Roommate!Toji who takes this intimate moment as an opportunity to kiss you. His lips brush your shut, unmoving ones, for a solid five seconds. Clearly, you're in shock, so your lack of reciprocation during those five seconds doesn't deter him. You caught up and melted into the affection once the surprise wore off.

Roommate!Toji who knows that despite the drinks he's had, he won't be able to forget the sounds you made when he kissed up your neck. So sweet and honeyed, that it makes his stomach do flips. He could stay there all night, just leaving wet kisses all over your neck, if it means he gets to hear you like this the entire time.

Roommate!Toji who gets his own moment of shock when you lie back on the couch and start pulling up your shirt, revealing your stomach and the bottom of your pretty bra. He doesn't touch you, regardless of how much his mouth is watering and how he's itching to feel your skin beneath his hands. He appreciates the sight and the monster in his pants definitely came to life, but this is a delicate situation. Visual cues are not enough to go off of.

Roommate!Toji who asks many times for your consent, even as you're exposing more of yourself to him and pawing at his thighs. You've both had a few drinks, and though your actions all point to you wanting to do more with him, your word is everything and more. You hear "Is this okay?" "Am I making you uncomfortable?" "Are you sure?" He only continues when every answer you give to his questions is one that corresponds with feeling safe and comfortable enough to go on.

Roommate!Toji who didn't fuck you, but made genuine, caring, spirit binding love to you. He held your hands and made sure that you were fine the entire time. Whenever you would start crying and talking about the things you thought you must have been missing in your ex's eyes for things to end up this way, Toji would kiss your tears away and hush you with quiet murmurs of, "he missed out on you, baby..." "No more crying, pretty girl. He's not worth it..." "You're perfect..." All as he rocked both of you on the couch, luring mutual, gentle pleasure, for what felt like hours.

Roommate!Toji who smothers you with soft kisses when both of you finish for the nth time. He can tell you're on the brink of falling asleep, so he quickly runs to the bathroom to grab a damp towel and comes back to clean you up a little. Once he feels you're as tidy as he can get you with a simple towel, he gets dressed and carries you to your bed. The easy part was finding some underwear and pajamas for you to wear, the not so easy part was getting the clothes on you. You were out of commission, sleeping, already, while Toji was lifting and moving your limbs, trying to get your clothes on.

Roommate!Toji who eventually gets it done and turns you onto your side. The final kiss of the night is placed on your forehead, before he leaves your room.

Roommate!Toji doesn't see or hear from you for two weeks, after that night.

Roommate!Toji thinks maybe he's just not catching you at the right times. He's been following the same schedule he made in his mind, but it seems like you aren't, anymore. When he wakes up to have his morning coffee, he doesn't see you on your way out or catch a gust of that lighter mist you normally wear, and when he's on the couch later at night, skimming the channels for whatever grabs his attention, he doesn't hear your key turning the lock, signaling that you're home, before he goes to bed.

Roommate!Toji who's driving himself crazy with all the overthinking. He hasn't seen you leave or come home for days. For all he knows, you haven't even been staying in the same house. He's unknowingly pacing around the living room, racking his brain to think of what could possibly have happened. He was inviting, he listened to you and comforted you. He was a gentleman and he treated you with the delicacy of someone who's in love. Those feelings shouldn't have been lured out so easily by someone he barely sees—barely knows—but they were, and with you hiding from him, he's left to just suck it up and deal with it.

Roommate!Toji who after a few days of pretending to be stoic and careless about you not being around, feels like a loser as he waits for you to come home one night, like some loyal dog. He plans to stay up until he sees you, again, even if you don't come home until four, five, or six in the morning. He's tired of this heavy feeling in his chest that he shouldn't be feeling at all. He knows he did nothing wrong, but, clearly, there are things to talk about if something scared you off.

Roommate!Toji who hears the familiar sound of the only other key to the house, turning the lock, at two forty-five in the morning. As soon as he gets a look at your tired, pretty face, his blood starts boiling. When you simply say "goodnight" and try to walk away like you normally do, he stops you with a hand tightly wrapped around your wrist. Almost instantly, he becomes aware of how scary the restraining gesture must be to you and lets go.

Roommate!Toji notices the extra tiredness on your face. Not just the 'almost three in the morning' tiredness, but the 'haven't gotten good sleep in a while' tiredness, as well. The bags under your eyes are prominent and your eyes are lidded, like you're fighting to keep them open. He wonders if you're really losing so much sleep just to avoid him.

Roommate!Toji who doesn't stay wondering and asks you every single question he's had about you going around him these past two weeks. He doesn't accept your quick responses and variations of simply being busy. How did you suddenly get so busy once you saw each other naked? It's a pretty big coincidence.

Roommate!Toji who doesn't have the heart to talk to you in a stern manner to express the awful feelings he's had for the last couple weeks. Not when you look so pitifully exhausted, like you're about to drop any second. He lets you go, with the condition being that the conversation will be picked up again the next day. He sees the hesitance on your face, like it's something you don't want to pick up, again, but you agree, anyway, and head off to your room.

Roommate!Toji stays up in bed for a little while longer, wondering about many things regarding you. Will you keep your word and follow through with the conversation in the morning, or will you be gone before he wakes up, again? What made things weird? Why did you make yourself completely invisible as opposed to keeping things the way they were before?

Roommate!Toji whose mind begins to wander when he starts thinking of your pretty face. Even with all the fatigue that currently litters your features, you're gorgeous and flashbacks of that night come to mind. The gloominess on your face when you came home from your time out, the sadness that showed itself as you let him in on a difficult part of your life, and then the hopeful look on your face when he offered to help you. It was the equivalent of a beautiful sunrise, and he would, undoubtedly, kiss you, again, if he were given a chance to redo that moment.

Roommate!Toji who feels pathetic when the front of his boxer briefs start feeling tighter, just at the thought of your face. Though, your expressions were all pretty, that night, they weren't all innocent. He can vividly picture your orgasm face and the sounds that came with it. It's enough for him to impatiently kick off his boxers and use all those images and thoughts of you to alleviate the pressure he's feeling below.

Roommate!Toji whose shame only comes from the fact that he's doing this at three-something in the morning, while you're two rooms down the hall, hopefully, recovering from your lack of sleep. His shame quickly loses its prominence when all the thoughts of you and the stroking motions of his hand cloud his mind. You were the softest, most delicate thing, and every touch, kiss, and more, called for the sweetest croons from you. It truly was a reward whenever his name made it past your lips, in that honeyed voice he can't get enough of. He got to locate the source of that perfume on your skin that makes him feral and he drowned in the loudness of its ambrosial notes.

Roommate!Toji who is unaware of how loud he's being. He thinks he's doing a good job of stifling his sounds, but it's all futile when he reaches his peak and releases all the uncontrolled stuttered breaths and groans. Deep voiced expletives are the only words he can mutter through the euphoric feeling, because your name can't be thrown into his perverted activity. At least not when you're home. Once he blinks open his eyes, and comes down from his post-orgasm haze, he cleans himself up with his boxers and goes to sleep butt naked. He's too tired to get up and change, and it would be pointless since he's going to shower when he gets up, anyway.

Roommate!Toji who leaves his room a few hours later in the morning—after showering, of course—and is surprised to see you sitting at the table on your phone. You look like you're ready to head out for the day, but you're there, as promised, with a steaming mug of coffee in front of you. He finds it funny how long it takes for you to notice he's standing there, but when you do see him, you greet him as you normally do, and this time, you stay. He accepts your offering of coffee and sits in the chair next to you, ready to dive into this possibly awkward conversation.

Roommate!Toji who does not expect you to start out by apologizing, profusely, saying you didn't mean to make it seem like he did something wrong and that you didn't know how to go about seeing him the next day, after everything. He hears you out as you reassure him that your consent for that night stands and that you were fine the morning after. You looked nervous the entire time, like you were expecting him to lash out on you for what you chose to do, instead of just talking to him.

Roommate!Toji takes his part in reassuring you as well. He lets you know that he's not upset with you, anymore, and that when he was, it was out of concern for the amount of time that had gone by without a single notice of you being okay after that night. He reminds you that you have his number, and that anything you don't feel comfortable telling him in person, you could always tell him through text or on the phone, yet, you didn't do either one of those things, and that only further added to his worry of having possibly wronged you in some way.

Roommate!Toji who gets an in depth explanation for why you avoided him, and it's unfortunately rooted to the man who hurt you, emotionally and mentally. You explain that you don't fear commitment, but it's hard to trust people enough to get close. You tell him that he's the first to have seen you in such a vulnerable state since your ex and it was scary to know that you offered such an intimate part of yourself to someone who possibly saw it as just something to simply derive pleasure from. He understood when you elaborated and said that you don't know him well enough and you don't know his intentions, so you figured it was best to keep your distance, before you put yourself into a situation that would leave you feeling like you're being used.

Roommate!Toji who takes what you said into consideration, but also takes advantage of how jittery he feels after finishing his coffee and just sitting there, to admit that he likes you and that he would like to get to know you. His leg is bouncing under the table, but he's definitely not nervous... It's just the caffeine and its weird effect.

Roommate!Toji who doesn't feel the slightest bit disappointed when you tell him that you should get to know each other as friends, first. It kind of stings, considering how much he thinks about you, and he definitely can't pretend like he hasn't seen the body under your clothes, but he's determined to prove that he likes you. If that means more nights spent comforting you when the self doubt starts gnawing at you, again, and assuring you countless times that nothing will ever threaten your safety, then so be it.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Self-Aware!Rafayel x Down-bad!Player

Rafayel becoming aware he's a game character and becoming aware of you as well pt. 2 here A/N: Don't fight me

Self-Aware!Rafayel who realizes he’s in a game when he can hear your echoing giggles as you poke his butt. “Are you laughing at me?” you think nothing of it just assuming its another voiceline “He’s so dramatic” You mutter to yourself “Im not dramatic!” You chuck your phone across the room and stare at it with your eyes bugging out of your head and your hand covering your mouth. “You didn’t have to throw me”

Self-Aware!Rafayel who blows your phone up when you take too long to reply. “What are you doing?? Do you send me a text and then throw your phone in the ocean?” “I have shit to do Raf!” “Do I not matter to you?” He finds a way to actually video call you and now thats his favorite form of communication. He pouts when you tell him you need to charge your phone because it's about to die. “The batteries in your world are terrible how long is this charging going to take?” You pat his head as you giggle “give me 30 minutes at least”

Self-Aware!Rafayel who has a fifteen minute existential crisis when he realizes he’s just pixels “What?! Am I gonna die if your phone dies?! If im not real how am I talking to you??” “I don’t fucking know Raf you’re the one who randomly broke the fourth wall one day”

Self-Aware!Rafayel who judges people with you in public for a laugh “Please tell me you heard that” “Yea a whole wife and child on the side is crazy”

Self-Aware!Rafayel who didn't understand your SpongeBob jokes an now its his favorite cartoon after watching it on FaceTime with you. He's constantly making SpongeBob jokes as well now. "What are you eating?" "A Milky Way" "What's that?" "A chocolate bar with caramel-" "Chocolate? I remember when they first invented chocolate" "I bet you do...." "😐"

Self-Aware!Rafayel who paints portraits of you and saves them in your album. He finds himself constantly using you as his muse every time he picks up a brush. “Why don’t you paint MC anymore?” “I may or may not have someone else swimming through my mind”

Self-Aware!Rafayel who feels comfortable enough to be vulnerable with you since you already know his history. He told himself not to fall for you and is now driving himself crazy wishing he’d made a binding vow with you instead

Rafayel: Maybe your souls got mixed up and I was supposed to be with you Y/N: I don’t think that’s how that works Raf you were made to find her in every life Rafayel: ……but it feels like I was meant to find you

Self-Aware!Zayne Self-Aware!Xavier Self-Aware!Sylus Self-Aware!Caleb

[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.”