#how to save the project for the final project

[hufflezki]

summary: peter has been paying you visits as spiderman, doing and saying things he usually wouldn't when he's off the mask—like attempting to flirt with you. unfortunately, you find out who really is under his disguise.

-> mcu!peter parker x gn!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, mixed povs, peter is just a sweetheart, sudden confessions, good old misunderstanding (oh boy), peter rambles a lot, implications of reader liking plants, ( this is very self indulgent </3 so im sorry if he's a little ooc ) word count: 2,148 ( yes, its really long, ik )

[ 🎧 ] — (also had this song in mind while writing, so I'll just share it.) head over heels by the go-go's

The sun is rising. Your cup is empty. School works are done. It's a Friday, and you don’t have any classes. Which means you finally have time to relax on your balcony. You prop your elbow down on the railing, thinking of things to do now that you’ve been given a free day.

You can read that book you’ve been meaning to finish a month ago—or has it been two? Then again, you also have that unfinished crochet project you decided to do. But the problem is you forgot if you ever saved the pattern for it. Then there’s also the elephant in the room, the thing that haunts you every time you step inside your apartment. The vase your last roommate left. You’ve been meaning to give it back to her—you promised. But things got busier ever since. The last time you had free time was probably earlier this year, and yet you were still working on your thesis.

You turn your head, staring at the vase. It's ironic how much it grew on you. You thought it didn’t fit the color scheme of your living room at first. But the more you saw it, the more it seemed to fit right in. Until, eventually, you decided that you like it. And, yes, maybe that’s part of the reason why you can’t bring yourself to return it. Your last roommate also never mentioned it again after. So, you assume she just forgot about it entirely. Hopefully.

Your train of thoughts are interrupted when you hear movements, mostly the sound of something—or rather someone—webbing around. You turn your head back in front of you, then to your left, and your right, until– “Good morning.” A familiar voice comes from behind you, making you yelp from surprise. “Fuck, You can’t just sneak up on people like that!” Normally, when you get approached by the Spider-man, in all his red and blue spandex glory, you don’t really greet him with a yell and proceed to curse him out. But, in your defense, who even gets visited by him this early in the morning? Apparently, you do!

“Sorry, I thought you’d be used to me. ‘Cause I am.” He walks, with his body facing you, hoisting himself up to sit on the railing. The whole time you followed him with your eyes, your brows raised out of curiosity. “No? I’m still trying to put my head around the fact that you choose to travel all the way here just to talk to me.” He shakes his head, waving his hand, dismissively. You feel the corner of your lip twitch. For someone who wears a mask, he’s certainly expressive. “You’re special.” He shrugs, his voice sounding a bit too soft and sincere, surprising you. You prop your chin down on your hand, staring at him. “I’m special?” You seem to have flustered him as he shrugs—once more—and turns away. As if you would even see the way his cheeks turn pink.

“Well, you know..” He clears his throat, tilting his head to the side, unsure with his words. You let out a chuckle, he turns to you again. He does this a lot, the moment you do something to counter him, he stumbles a few steps back. It’s adorable and reminds you of Peter, somehow.

“I think you’re great company. And you listen to me when I talk a lot.”

“Yeah, you ramble quite a lot, don't you?”

“I mean I get plenty of thoughts when I come over to see you.” This time you tilt your head to the side. “What kinds of thoughts?” The realization, that what he said might've been weird out of context, hits him like a train and he immediately shakes his head. “No, no, no. Not like weird thoughts. You know, like, uhm– You’re so cool! And I like the perfume you’re wearing today. Little things like that.” You purse your lips, holding back your laughter. You don’t know if his rambling really is entertaining, or maybe you just have it bad.

To be fair, it has been a few weeks since you started meeting him like this. You remember the day of your first encounter. He accidentally knocked down the plant on your balcony, and you caught him fixing it—or trying to hide the evidence that it was broken—then he offered to help however he can. You insisted, but he showed up later that night, dangling outside your window, with a new pot. It was the most baffling thing you’ve ever witnessed. And he helped you transfer the plant too. From then on, he frequents your balcony more than you do, and even waters your plants. Even though you didn't ask him to, you still appreciate him for it.

You don't know what you did to have caught his attention. You convinced yourself that maybe he really is just your friendly neighborhood Spider-man. But he doesn't seem to be hanging out in anyone else’s apartment other than yours. You don't have any complaints, however. He keeps you company, and you seem to do the same for him.

“So, the only thing I’m getting here is that you think about me a lot. And that I’m special.” You say the last thing with a smug grin, and he seems to find that amusing. “Not everyone gets called special by Spider-man. So, thank you.” You add. But, unexpectedly, he counters your remark. “You’re also very sweet.” He says, holding up a finger. Then another one. “And you care a lot. I appreciate you worrying about me whenever I come back from a mission.” Your eyebrows raise, cheeks feeling a little warm. “You’ve got a great smile, it's actually infectious.” He glances at you, and you imagine his eyes narrowing. He’s got three of his fingers up now, then adds another one. “You’re crazy about your plants, but I also like that—and I get it, I’m crazy about my lego collections too.” That’s big news to you, Spider-man apparently likes legos. That reminds you, Peter is also crazy about them. So far, you’re thinking they’d get along well.

However, you don't know where this conversation is going. But you’re curious to how this would conclude, so you keep listening.

“And, I just like you. You make my day. I have more to say, if you want me to elaborate.” He hops down, now standing beside you. Somehow, you turn a little shy. His arm brushes against yours, as he rests his hands on the railing. “But you must get a lot of people telling you that, yeah?” You don't know why Spider-man’s suddenly getting you in your feelings, but you guess he’s always been that spontaneous. “Well, I do have one friend. Peter. He tells me he likes..” You cut yourself off, a metaphorical light bulb turning on above your head. His words starting to

sound familiar.

You remember a sleepover you did with Peter a few months back. When he was so sleepy that he started a verbose speech about how much he appreciates your long-term friendship. And that he doesn't know anyone who could ever have your patience to deal with him.

Now, you’re holding Spider-man’s stare. He’s waiting for you to continue your sentence. But you don't think you would, not when something else came up in your mind. “Peter?” You say, still unsure. He seems startled by that, drawing his head back. “What?”

“Sorry, I just.. What was the gift you gave me on my thirteenth birthday?”

“Walkie talkie–” You point your finger at him, eyes wide, and pretty proud of yourself. Meanwhile, Peter finally realizes just what you’d done and fails to defend himself. That’s when he sighs, his shoulders deflating. And now you feel very bad. “I knew you’d be cornering me!” You give him a guilty smile, moving closer. “I’m sorry, you were just giving yourself away.” He sighs, once again, but he doesn't seem all too bummed out.

“So, it's really you?” Peter nods his head, your smile turns fond. You reach for his mask, hand hesitating for a bit. “You can take it off.” He says, and that’s the time you continue and lift the bottom of his mask, slowly revealing the familiar face of the boy you’ve spent your whole life with. “Peter.” He smiles at you, crooked, evidently embarrassed to be caught like this. But he knew the day would come. Not that he never planned to tell you who really is. “Ta-da?” Peter attempts to humor you, and it works, kind of. You chuckle, bringing yourself to hug him. He wraps his arms around you, feeling all sorts of emotions.

“I’m sorry for ruining your whole reveal. I know that’s not what you intended.” Peter hums and shakes his head. “I’m surprised you’re not at all weirded out.” You pull away, just enough to look at him in the eyes. “I mean, you do need to explain to me why you did all this.” He purses his lips together, trying to find the confidence to tell you that he’s liked you ever since he could. And that it’s been keeping him in some kind of crisis, since he doesn’t know how to tell you.

“It’s hard to say. I like you. I’m practically head over heels. But I’ve never had the confidence to tell you. So I decided maybe being Spider-man could help.” He scratches the back of his neck, now wallowing in his own embarrassment. “Clearly not.. I’m not good at flirting with or without the mask, apparently.” He turns shy, pulling himself away. To his surprise, you pull him back by taking his hands. “You’re really interesting, Peter.” He grows even more flustered, unable to look you in the eyes.

“First, you break my pot.”

“That wasn't intentional, I was really nervous that day.”

“It's alright, It wasn't a big deal. Then, you try to woo me as Spider-man, which almost worked, instead of just asking me out?” Now that you put it that way. His plan did seem like a lot of work. But he didn't have a guarantee that you’d say yes. What if he blows it and you never talk to him again? That’s like.. scarier than having to defeat a Titan warlord threatening to end half the population on earth. Imagine that.

“Would you?” He asks, voice so quiet, you almost missed it. You hum, squeezing his hands. “Would I go out with you?” Peter nods his head, and you also do. “Yes, I would go out with you. Peter, I don't know if you've noticed but I’ve tried to make it obvious that I do like you.” Peter’s eyebrows scrunch together, as he looks at you with pure astonishment. Was he the one oblivious?

“Do you remember when I said my mom packed extra lunches for you?” He nods his head. “I did them, intentionally.” You smile, watching as he starts recollecting your memories. “Even that time you held my hand during our first field trip?” You nod your head, as Peter takes it all in.

“That time you asked me out on Prom?”

“Especially that. I thought you’d get it by then.” You shrug, meanwhile Peter feels like the biggest idiot in the world for realizing it all just now. How could he have missed the signs? Why couldn't he have just taken the risk? He’s done that plenty of times before.

“Alright, don't stress your pretty little mind. Atleast, now we both know.” Peter ponders for a bit more, before he lifts your hands up to kiss your knuckles. “I think I’ll be fine if I worry a bit more. It seems I don't use what’s up here, anyways.” He says, trying to humor his own disappointment. And you have to fight back a smile. “Peter.” You chide and he mutters a quick sorry.

“Let me make it up to you? I’ll take you out, wherever.” He’s leaning closer to kiss you on your forehead, and you feel the warmth seeping throughout your entire body. It’s crazy how a gesture so small could make you feel so much.

“Deal. And I believe I owe you one thing?” He narrows his eyes, inquisitively, and you take the opportunity to kiss him on the lips. You feel him freeze, his entire body going rigid for a second, before he melts and kisses you back. His hand immediately goes to cup your face, while his other pulls you closer by the waist. And you can't help but think about just how soft his lips feel like against yours. You almost want to stay like this for a little while, until you have to take a breath.

“I have a good idea. Why don't we head inside before someone sees you, and tells the entire world that you’re Spider-man.”

“I think that’s the best idea ever, actually.”

miscellaneous masterlist ꩜ .ᐟ

[woolying]

tetro pink doodle dump: varied ramen trio edition 🍜🩷 i need to get all of these off my hands lol

picture captions, if you care:

sanrio dogs i drew in my sketchbook once during class ! they are such a doodleable bunch

IIIIIII👏SUP👏POSE👏HEY🆙

this was based on one of tsunos gacha cards, i just wanted to sketch it but then i got carried away..... rip to the matching cheshire sasaki that didnt get drawn (I PROMISE IM STILL WORKING ON THE GACHA CARDS THAT WON THE POLL I DID THAT ONE TIME....IM JUST THE STRUGGLER...)

von tweeted this one and i thought it was funny

i drew this one literally today lol also inspired by a von tweet!! a little bit of miki manami hcs kinda (ive been meaning to do art studies with them bc i have clear views of how the trio look in my head but im not very good at body variation...parkourist tsuno you are so important to me ill draw you well one day) also just know all of the isono hcs are me projecting thank u

isono miki digital angel real (featuring wader)

OOOOO YOU WANNA TALK TO ME ABOUT TETRO SU FUSIONS SOOOOOO BAD ametrine is my fave out of my finished ones so she gets posted yay

i saw the project sekai movie when it came out so i made sure masa miki did too (just realized i forgot wadas eyebrows um...im not going back to fix it sorry idk what canvas this doodle is on)

more sanrios except i assigned one to the whole cast and planned on drawing them all... then gave up basically before i even started lol (if anyone sees this please draw ojima with harenochi nyua and color it all cutelike ty)

/ 11. back to my roots: drawing wada over and over again (i was going through severe genuine withdrawals when i drew these i love drawing wadas)

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2025: ADRIFT IN CURRENTS CLEAN AND CLEAR by Seanan McGuire.

Ah, yes, my favorite January tradition: heartbreak in tiny series installment form :)

This one is about a turtle-obsessed disabled Russian girl who gets adopted by an American family and fitted for a prosthetic she doesn't ask for, want, or need, and then she splashes through her Door.

I love Russian language and culture things (shout out to accidentally double minoring in college), so I was excited for a Russian protag and a Russian-coded Door world! Excellent enrichment in my enclosure. Neat cultural expansion on the Wayward Children universe (multiverse? cosmos?? insert appropriately scaled setting word here).

I also liked the aquatic nature of Belyyreka--terrifying giant frogs and delightful giant turtles and delightful talking foxes on the riverbanks were all lovely, and the worldbuilding about different weights of water was neat! Very mind-bendy kind of setting, I dig it.

This installment felt very slim (146 pages in my copy), and Our World Heavy--the first 46 pages were in Colorado, and the last 100 were in Belyyreka, but it felt like we did More Frequent and Larger Time Skips in Belyyreka compared to Earth? Kind of speedrun mode, sans Quests, really (this one was a lot more oriented toward Finding/Building Your Family, which was signposted pretty clearly upon our arrival in Belyyreka). Mostly a quieter installment up until the, y'know, Typical Impending Tragedy of Return at the end. (Did I almost put it down at 1AM last night with 30 pages left so everyone could Be Happy? perHAPS,)

Overall: I had a good time! But, ow, my heart (once again and forever).

[project-sekai-takes]

Nihil-san I love you Nihil-san. Idk if it tops Engeki or FUEL but holy shit thank you ¿?

-Phantom anon

.

[gracelesstars]

On this New Year's Eve, are you too thinkin' bout season 8's: "I did everything I could to get you out! Everything... I did not leave you!" "Nothing you could have done would have saved me, because I didn't want to be saved... After the things I did... I didn't deserve to be out." and season 15's: "I left, but you didn't stop me."?? Because let's be real - Cas would *not* have stayed if Dean had stopped him as he didn't think he deserved to have Dean's acceptance/love. (can't believe that 3yrs later on I am doing 180 on this - i.e. initially thinking that Cas not staying was a result of Dean not asking)

anyways, I guess this is your usual reminder that Dean saving Cas from the Empty & saying "you don't think you deserved to be saved/loved?" is the only series conclusion that would've made perfect sense. See you with the same message, just rephrased differently, next year!

[queer-omens-in-the-archives]

D.Nd: Poisoned text walkthroughs

hello meronia community. if any of you would like text walkthroughs for all endings in D.Nd: Poisoned (the MelloNear visual novel by Akane), you can find them here :3 (with tickable checkboxes for each step! and an ugly but serviceable PDF you can easily print if so inclined)

[kirisclangen]

Larchpaw

She/her, 8 moons, cis molly

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[maxwell-grant]

Was kinda interesting watching Aquaman 2 do that thing Hollywood movies do where a villain barks orders in an non-English language to signal to the American audience that they're foreign and scary, except this time the actress doing it was speaking portuguese so I actually understood everything she was saying and it was just weird and abrupt. I guess they just told her to translate and say the lines in her own language but didn't direct her how to adapt the dialogue accordingly, so she ends up just telling the henchmen to pick up a guy in a very stilted formal factual manner while everything's exploding around them, that was kinda funny.

[yournormalidiot]

Ughhh I love and hate pratical subject sm.

Like why tf am I sitting here explaing why and how I choose/came up with the design I did for my jc woodwork piece. Like idk bitch I scrolled threw Pinterest and my teacher stood over me telling me what to do😤

but I can't say that:<

[alittleemo]

mannnnnnnnbb fuck November I’m so tired of feeling lonely in my own life.

[good-beanswrites]

Give me a day or so but I'm so excited to write out the Deep Cover drabble for LCSyS >:3

[steviescrystals]

i graduated high school 3 years ago and i’m still not over the fact that NO ONE TOLD ME the district would delete all of our school accounts like a month later and now every paper, presentation, project, etc. i made on that account from 5th-12th grade is just gone forever 🫠

[quatregats]

Thought I had managed to figure out the whole timeline of where Villena had been during the war and now I'm going back through all the sources I have saved and I feel like nothing is matching up at all with what I have in my head

[typheus]

I've finished the 3rd clue on these mystery socks so now I've just been wearing half made socks :p

[random-cockroach]

TUMBLR STOP CUTTING ME OUT OF SCREAMING TAGS I KNOW MY TUMBLR RIGHTS

#Swerve and Jazz were working before. Not in a right way but they DID #No one knew it wasn't the same agsgsghah #And now they meet hello ahsvehwb #OH PLEASE

My hands are shaky and my head is refusing to work properly! But! I made it!

The Blurr chapter for Mecha au >:D

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

Blurr's job is to smile for the camera and take the applause of people who praise him for his bravery and sacrifice. Blurr's job is to sell his face, his voice and his skills to millions of viewers. He must impress investors, show off advanced technology and make a determined face saying that to save mankind he is ready for anything. And then get in a luxury car and drive off to some expensive place to burn a whole bunch of zeros out of his paycheck.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

Under the cut

————————————

Nobody likes Blurr.

Okay, if you think on a large scale, everyone loooves Blurr. His face is on every poster, his brand is in every possible store, his voice and is in every cool commercial. You literally can't exist without knowing who Blurr is, or at least seeing his face once. It's a “Luke I'm your father” level phenomenon. How massive a rock do you have to live under to miss something like that?

Everybody loves Blurr. You can go buy a t-shirt with his face on it. You can go listen to his interviews or purchase a tiny replica of his action figure. There are incredibly many ways a Blurr fan can blow a hole in their budget.

Swerve knows, because he's done it many times. And recently, it's stopped being something he's proud of. To be precise, it was exactly four days ago when Blurr first stepped into his office. Swerve had just finished his shift and was finishing his tea when his boss suddenly appeared in the doorway, with the best racer in the world right behind him.

The tea was instantly dropped, adrenaline was released, and the brain was turned off.

In that moment, Swerve thought that this is what it must look like. The moment when all your good karma comes together in one pile to reward you for all the times you dropped a sandwich butter side down or missed a deadline.

Both of which happened with annoying regularity. Swerve is unlucky. Sometimes things seem to fall through his hands.

It started out great.

Swindle, their boss, showed up in the office space one day looking simultaneously jubilant, nervous, and very inspired. Usually on such occasions, Swerve could almost see the dollar signs reflected in his boss's glasses.

“Attention everyone. We have an important guest arriving in an hour.”

Swindle expressively pushed his glasses down on his nose and looked around the room

“I promised him a tour and I expect you all to behave yourselves.”

He meticulously looks around the floor beneath his feet

“Send someone to clean up all the trash. This place is unbelievably filthy. The floors should be sparkling in twenty minutes! And, oh! Hey you, go buy some good drinks.”

Having finished inspecting the floor Swindle hurriedly runs off, probably to say the same thing to the neighboring department.

Swerve stretches his neck out curiously, listening in

“Is the president coming to see us?”

Walking by, Jazz shrugs

“When the president was coming Swindle said the floor was dirty and made him wear boot covers.”

It's not the president

Swindle gestures generously to the entire office at once and looks overall like a bird trying his best to primp up

“And here we have the engineering department offices. In the next building is the assembly plant, that's where the mechs are put on their feet so to speak. And this is where all the computing, design, and planning happens.”

Just over his shoulder stands and looks around at none other than

Oh, dear God.

Swerve's tea flies to the floor next to his thought processes.

He's seen Blurr countless times, but never in person. How can this guy look as good in person as he does in expensive retouched-until-squeaky-clean photos? Mystery.

Blurr's gaze slides lazily over the simple office setting and for those two seconds when it's directed at Swerve it feels like sheer madness. He tries to look normal. He's not sure he's succeeding, but he's making an effort.

Swindle waltzes through the office, heading for the next door

“Come on I'll show you the mech hangar.”

Blurr grins.

“A highlight of the show I suppose~”

His voice is like a needle bursting a ball of stunned silence. People begin to rise from their seats and scramble to say hello. Someone asks for an autograph, others ask for a bunch of selfies, a couple people in the corner hastily fix their hair, one of the employees just pulls out his phone and shamelessly starts filming.

Swindle looks at the this with an unchanging commercial smile, but his gaze promises all kinds of punishment.

Perhaps if it had been the president, the buffoonery would have been smaller.

______________

For the next few days, Blurr is the big news and the center of all discussion.

Officially? He's becoming one of the pilots in the Mecha program.

In fact? Swindle's greedy soul couldn't get enough of the idea that the Mech concept could be monetized.

The dust is blown off Blurr and his boots are licked. He doesn't go to general training, he doesn't participate in ordinary or overly dangerous missions. He's allowed everything and a little more. His job is to look pretty on camera, speak his lines, smile and wink. He's a walking advertisement and Swindle's incredibly powerful tool in negotiating with investors.

Swerve once saw him called to a negotiation in the middle of the night, and even sleep-deprived and exhausted after a full day of filming, Blurr had the strength to pull that charming expression on his face and flawlessly play along with Swindle wherever he needed to.

His mech was a work of art. And that's not even an exaggeration. Usually the main purpose of mechs is to be efficient and practical. Blurr's Mech was made separately and so many people worked on its design that it could have its own end credits. It's beautiful, sleek, shiny and show-offy. It's designed to be awe-inspiring, but not so decorated that it's ridiculous.

When Swerve looks at its specs, he almost feels sick. Maneuverability, mobility, everything is absolutely top-notch. But most importantly, speed.

The technology to accelerate Mechs to incredible speeds has been around for some time, but the average robot doesn't reach even half of the technically possible maximum. Because even the fastest machine can't outrun the human brain.

After a certain threshold, pilots are no longer capable of controlling their own Mech. Human reaction speed is simply not enough to maneuver without crashing into anything or losing their orientation in space. And. Well. Without losing consciousness.

This has led to Mech manufacturers sort of tacitly agreeing on a rough speed limit and tending to stick to it. Just to make the technology safer and more suitable for everyone.

Regardless. Everyone except Blurr apparently.

Because the numbers across from his Mech's speed specs are horrifying. Swerve looks at the blueprints and thinks it's either freaking awesome or absolute suicide. Maybe something in between. Can a human being have reflexes like that? What about this turning mechanism? The numbers tell him that these levels of g-force make a large percentage of pilots just pass out.

Is Blurr really going to pilot this death wagon??

To achieve that kind of speed and mobility, they'd have to cut off half the armor or make it very light. Which would almost be like inviting a dangerous injury.

But if the Mech is made primarily to flaunt rather than fight...well... it probably makes sense.

Swerve's inner fan is sliding down the wall.

Blurr is incredible. And what's even more incredible is that he's kind of sort of almost Swerve's coworker now.

It only takes him a couple days to realize.

Everyone loves Blurr.

But the one who loves Blurr the most is Blurr himself.

The rose-tinted glasses are breaking slowly but surely. On the first day, Sverve walks up on shaky legs to get introduced. He tells himself that this is definitely not an attempt to get an autograph. They're coworkers. He's just...uh...greeting a new employee.

Blurr looks slightly bored.

“You're from this department....uh.. What's its name, whatever.”

Swerve clutches his hands in front of him so he doesn't accidentally drop anything

“OH.Uh yeah. Swerve! Engineering Department. You were there on a tour the other day. I usually work in the assembly plant, making armor for Mechs, developing new alloys. But I design too! I, uh.

(Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. Don't talk about Blurr. He'll think you're a crazy fan. Don't talk about Blurr.)

Blurr starts to get sidetracked by his phone.

Swerve swallows awkwardly.

“I'm uh. I'm a big fan of yours. Sir.”

(Good job...)

Blurr chuckles softly and offers out his hand

“Well, nice to meet you.”

Sverve's hand is shaking like crazy, he hopes he isn't squeezing too hard. Working in the assembly has made his hands rough. Blurr's narrow, soft palm is almost sinking in his grip.

“ 'Nice to meet you, yes. Nice to meet you sir! If you, ah, if you have any problems or questions or uh, well. You know, if you need help with your Mech or upgrades or or.”

Blurr chuckles.

“I'll be counting on you~”

Swerve feels like his soul is about to break away from his body.

The next, day when they cross paths in the hallway Blurr waves to him.

“Hey you. Whatever your name is. Can you tell me how to get to Block D?

Swerve stops awkwardly.

“Ah. Of course! I'm Swerve sir. Come, I'll show you.”

Blurr smiles a beautiful, ad-libbed smile and follows him in

“Thank you darling.”

From this point on, the entire program gradually learns a simple but unpleasant truth.

Blurr is an asshole.

And nobody likes him.

He always has everyone at his beck and call. You rarely get to see him on his own. There's always someone swirling around him with a guilty or annoyed face. A sort of serve-get-show-explain designated poor guy.

Swindle treats Blurr like a precious antique vase.

Blurr treats people like his servants.

The whole world is in love with the glittering cover, the image polished to a squeak. Until recently, Swerve was doing the same thing. Now it feels more like an embarrassing crush.

Blurr still doesn't remember his name. He actually remembers at most three to four people by name, and calls everyone else “hey you” or “ darling”. After Swerve reintroduced himself to him for the fourth time he just sort of...stopped trying.

On the field, Blurr is incredible. No one can deny that. The tremendous speed of his Mech leaves all the other pilots in the dust. Whoever said human reflexes weren't fast enough? HA. When Swerve sees his reports and results, he gets dizzy.

The combination of such incredible speeds and light armor means Blurr simply can't miss. If he hesitates, if he falters. If he gets confused. The whole metal thing will smash him to smithereens.

And yet Blurr comes back untouched time after time.

Swerve's no longer inclined to think it's just because of his mad skills. He knows that Swindle is paying Blurr a lot of money for his cooperation. No one would let Blurr fight on the front lines, no. It would be too dangerous. He has to do just enough so that Swindle can record a commercial and in it call Blurr a badass pilot without adding small print to that statement.

Blurr's job is not to fight for humanity.

Blurr's job is to smile for the camera and take the applause of people who praise him for his bravery and sacrifice. Blurr's job is to sell his face, his voice and his skills to millions of viewers. He must impress investors, show off advanced technology and make a determined face saying that to save mankind he is ready for anything. And then get in a luxury car and drive off to some expensive place to burn a whole bunch of zeros out of his paycheck.

He's not someone who stays after work to help his coworkers. And he's not the one who spends his nights trying to save as many people as possible. But he is the first person every citizen would name if asked to say something about the Mech program. He signs autographs, makes big statements, and promises people he'll protect them.

And people believe him.

And they love him.

A month later, he still can't remember anyone's names and sometimes calls people by the colors of their clothes, laughing as if they should take it as a cute joke.

Swerve is sick of this spectacle. Swerve is sick of this man.

That's okay.

It's not like fanboying over Blurr is Swerve's only passion.

He gets upset.

Then he gets mad and rips down all the posters.

Then he has no time to be angry because Swindle wants to launch Mechs into outer space and damn it, Jazz flies off the planet and doesn't fucking come back. The engineering department stays up nights trying to figure out where he's gone, but they can't.

Unlike Blurr, everybody loved Jazz.

Unlike Blurr, Jazz deserved every ounce of that love.

The ground beneath his feet is starting to shake.

At first, all that happens is panic. Everyone starts making a confused noise, someone assumes an earthquake.

A voice on the speakers says that everyone needs to evacuate immediately, but no one hears it because huge mechanical tentacles start coming through the windows and the whole building starts shaking, creaking and crumbling.

Sverve has seen the monsters humanity has to fight many times. But never this close. And their size leaves him absolutely terrified. These things are huge, they take up all visible space. And what's most damning is that they can break down the walls around Swerve like a fucking cookie.

He's gonna die. Oh god he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die, he's going to die here under this stupid rubble or get eaten or turned into one of the ugly bloody stains on the wall. His heart is doing a million beats a minute and his eyes are starting to sting. He tries to get to the emergency exit, but the door is blocked by one of the huge toothy creatures that is actively trying to get in.

Next to him, Swindle is shouting to someone on his comm, trying to sound louder than the rumble of the collapsing building and the hungry aliens.

The floor tilts at a very disturbing angle and Swerve grabs one of the interior doorways to stay in place. A second later, he reaches out and pulls Swindle, who has already slowly begun to slip toward the monster's huge hungry maw, to the same doorway.

Swindle grabs onto the frame of the door and Swerve at the same time. His glasses are cracked and his usually neat expensive coat is all dust and debris.

“It was a trap.”

Swerve can't hear a word over the grinding of breaking structures.

“What?”

Swindle almost slips and falls, but Swerve grabs him by the scruff of his coat and puts him back on his feet. Working in an assembly shop gives a man strong arms and right now he's very grateful for it.

Swindle makes a second, louder attempt

“It was a trap!!! All available pilots are now on the other side of the country! I've called for backup, but who knows how fast they'll get here.”

A smooth, silky voice comes from a walkie-talkie strapped to his coat.

“Ouch Swindle. So little faith in my professional skills?”

Swindle rounds his eyes

“Blurr??! Where are you!”

Blurr's voice sounds...not quite as it usually does. It's missing the habitual lazy note. The one that makes him sound like the whole world owes him money.

“Give me another minute and the answer will be 'here'.”

The building shakes again. Swindle swears so eloquently that Swerve can't help but admire it.

Swerve can't stand Blurr's smug face, but when he spots the first glimpse of blue metal in the window, joy floods his brain.

He usually associates Blurr with dumb nicknames, dismissive treatment, and commercials.

Now he watches the sleek, fast Mech lunge fearlessly at the monsters surrounding the building and thinks that. Fuck this. He's an asshole, but if he buys Swerve enough time to evacuate, he'll bring him a thank you card or something later. Though it's unlikely Blurr will care about that of course.

Swindle continues to shout instructions over the walkie-talkie. Swerve basically drags him outside by. He jumps up probably a full meter when very near him one of the monsters falls to the ground.

Blurr's Mech stands proudly on top of the fresh corpse and looks...actually really bad. Swerve knows that this particular robot was not built for rough, open confrontation. Its armor is too thin. Designed for speed and agility, not strength. He assembled it himself, after all.

Many of the plates are crumpled. Some are torn off. His legs are intact, but one of the joints sparks funny.

Blurr quickly looks around and Swerve unwittingly follows his example. The whole place is on fire. Office buildings are in ruins and a huge column of black smoke rises above the assembly plant.

Blurr's Mech drops to the ground and gets down on one knee. The plates on its chest are pulled aside and Blurr sticks his head out of the cockpit while simultaneously opening the visor on his helmet.

“Everyone okay?”

Swindle clutches the walkie-talkie

“The office areas are empty, but there still could be people left on the lower floors of the assembly plant. But we have no access there!”

Blurr drums his fingers quickly on the metal plate

“Fire?”

Swindle shrugs his dusty shoulders

“Something exploded at the bottom of the building. It's a real smelter down there.

Even if we send a Mech, it won't last more than a minute before it overheats. Or make the building collapse.”

Blurr's gaze becomes focused. Sharp. Swerve has seen that look many times on tough front line fighters like Jazz. On Blurr, never.

“'That's enough time for me.”

Swindle waves his hands

“Are you crazy?”

Blurr slaps his palm against the armor of his Mech

“This baby is light. Lighter than anything you've got! If anyone can do it without dropping the building, it's me. They make Mechs in the assembly hall, it's got high ceilings right?”

Swerve wants to snap. He wants to throw his hands up angrily and yell something along the lines of “you were literally there!”

Who else is down there on those lower floors??? Tailgate? Maybe Wheeljack? If something exploded, Wheeljack was definitely there. And probably closest to the explosion.

Swindle curses furiously, but retreats and runs off to give orders to someone else.

“”Be a hero if you want, but I'm not going in there. For all I know there could be melting metal in there instead of a floor! It's just not reasonable.”

Swerve's brain stumbles over that statement. Why...Swindle is acting like he's being forced to climb into that building too...?

Blurr looks nervous.

“You know what. Fine. I got it. Hey, you--”

And there it is. The good old namelesness.

Blurr pays no attention to Swerve's frowning face, nor his hands shaking with fear

“ You're familiar with those buildings. You know who was there and where to find them right? I need you to walk me through.”

Swerve feels the urge to snap again and this time doesn't hold it back

“If you cared about something other than yourself, you'd know this damn building and the people who work in it too and !”

“I don't fucking remember!” Blurr interrupts him.

Swerve doesn't have time to put anything in after that. Though a sarcastic comment is begging to be made.

Blurr quickly takes off his helmet and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

“I don't remember okay! This isn't a fad or posing or whatever else you think of me. This is what an accident can do to you if you miss a turn! I can't remember shit, okay?! Do you need a medical report?!”

Swerve just...stands there with his mouth open and probably looks like an idiot.

Blurr nervously tucks back his disheveled hair. The longer he talks, the faster he does it.

“Now. I know you don't want to die in a pit of fire. But I need your help to save them. Don't do anything, just take the map. I promise I won't let you die.”

He sounds determined. And holds out his hand to Swerve, silently inviting him to climb up onto the Mech.

His face is stained in sticky dust, his hair is an absolute mess, and his narrow palm is covered in streaks of soot. It's as if he's been dragged face down a muddy road.

He's. Very Handsome, Swerve thinks.

He takes his hand.

Blurr helps him up, pushes him into the space next to the pilot's seat, and closes the cockpit.

“Been inside a working Mech ever?”

Swerve clenches his hands nervously on the back of the seat

“No.”

The lights of the consoles around him come to life as Blurr puts on his helmet. The space around him hums. It's a strange noise. At once unsettling and calm.

Mech feels alive, he thinks. Then corrects himself. Blurr is mind-linked to this Mech. This Mech can technically be considered alive in a sense.

Blurr moves one of the monitors toward him and opens the map.

“Just mark the path here. Don't touch anything else. And hold on tight. I won't be going too fast anyway, but it'll be shaky.”

Swerve swallows nervously.

“Understood.”

After that, everything turns into motion. Watching the Mech work while being inside is mesmerizing.

Blurr doesn't say much, concentrating on the controls. His hands aren't shaking anymore, Swerve notices. Not even a little.

He steers the machine forward confidently and smoothly, dodging falling debris and avoiding the biggest pockets of fire without panic or hesitation.

He's also strictly following the path Swerve is laying out for him.

The air filtration system is doing well so far. Swerve can feel the smell of burning and the heat slowly creeping up, but it's bearable for now. For now.

They find a man on the nearside of the emergency exit.

Two more people a floor below. A small group stuck in the elevator.

Wheeljack's on the doorstep of his lab.

Blurr pulls them all out. Picks up the first group of people and carries them outside, goes back into the fiery furnace, finds more survivors, pulls them out, goes back, searches, rescues, goes back, searches, rescues.

The heat is coming up. Swerve can feel it. The plates around him are getting hot. The air smells like burnt wires.

Blurr’s Mech wasn't designed for this kind of thing.

His Mech was made to flash for the camera and accelerate to impossible speeds. To deceive and confuse the enemy. Its armor is thin and cools easily in the air, which usually helps it avoid overheating.

This also means that this Mech heats up very quickly as well.

Now, with the air around him feeling like a red-hot frying pan, Swerve regrets not saying anything back then. He regrets that he didn't make any changes to the blueprint.

More and more warnings pop up on the screens. The map stopped working correctly some time ago and Swerve is forced to give directions verbally.

He nervously grips the back of the pilot seat with one hand and, without noticing, Blurr's shoulder with the other.

Blurr carries two more people outside and hands them to the rescuers. Then turns back to the building again and. OH FUCK. Right in front of him, a huge crack begins to creep along the structure. This thing is on the verge of collapse. The roof is already starting to fold down in a very bad way.

Swerve clenches his grip fearfully and hears Blurr hiss through his teeth.

Suddenly, the cockpit opens. The fresh air of the street feels like a cold sledgehammer blow after the heat and stuffiness of the lower levels.

Swerve is about to ask something, but doesn't have time because Blurr uses Mech's hand to gently but quickly pull him outside and set him on the ground.

“You were going to mark another spot.”

Swerve nods hurriedly.

“Tailgate is still there.”

Blurr wrinkles his face.

Swerve corrects himself and clarifies

“Bright blue uniform. Short. Considering all the places we've been, I think he's in the staff quarters. It's...”

He chews his fingers, trying to remember numbers and directions without a map

“...two floors down, left, another floor down and straight ahead.”

As he speaks Blurr bends over the side of the open cockpit and spits...blood on the ground. His nose is bleeding, Swerve realizes. That's not good. It's a clear sign of a malfunctioning neural connection. Or damage to his respiratory system? Possibly both.

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his worried look

“Two down, left down then. Shit. Wait. Two down, left then down, straight ahead yeah?”

Swerve nods.

Blurr keeps repeating these directions like a mantra. A very fast and creepy mantra.

His gaze roams strangely and his breaths sound hoarse. His teeth and chin are covered in blood and his face is streaked with soot.

Swerve understands. He's about to do another go.

Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight. Two down, left, down, straight.

Alone. He's going, and he's going to fry himself alive in there for a stranger he doesn't even remember.

Swerve doesn't have time to say anything. What's he gonna say? Stop? But he wants to save Tailgate? Go on, I believe in you? But it's certain death.

Swerve rarely has nothing to say, but this time he can't find the right words.

Blurr wipes the blood with his sleeve, wrinkles his nose, and storms off, heading back into the flaming mess the plant has become.

Not twenty seconds later, the roof collapses, spewing a huge cloud of smoke, ash, and fire into the sky.

Swerve wrinkles his shirt nervously in his hands.

The walls are still in place, right? If the roof is gone but the walls are still standing it's... it's. It's.

Damn it. He's trying to remember the blueprints. It means the ejector will work. It means Blurr can still get out through the top. That--

Blurr's not getting out. As the small, bright blue escape pod appears above the falling walls of the building, Swerve feels his brain stop. Remember the blueprints, remember the damn blueprints. The Mech is light, the design is compact, the space in the pod is for only one person.

In the capsule lies an unconscious Tailgate.

Swindle grasps the radio

“Blurr? BLURR!”

Swerve looks at the smoke and ash and feels numb. He doesn't want to be here anymore. He has to know. He doesn't...

He feels weird. The same kind of weird as when objects fly seemingly through him. Everything just stops being real.

The thought comes out of nowhere. You don't have to obey the rules. You can see more. Just look.

He's not sure how or why he's doing it.

No one around him is paying much attention to him. Everyone's busy with survivors and damage assessment or just stunned by the chaos.

And him? He disappears.

And then he appears at the bottom. Under the rubble.

All around him is ugly, molten and red-hot chaos, but he doesn't care anymore. He feels like whatever is happening is about to end and he just has to be in time. Time for him to find out.

Blurr's Mech lies crushed by the fallen roof. Its cockpit is open. A gaping hole where his chest was, the place where the escape pod had undocked.

Wall debris has pinned him in a crooked, grotesque pose.

Blurr is here. His legs are wedged between crumpled metal plates inside the cockpit, leaving him hanging upside down. His suit is charred. Half of his face is destroyed. It looks like a horrible bloody and burned mess. It's ugly and gruesome.

Blurr opens his only working eye and gives Swerve a cloudy look.

“I must be seeing things...”

Swerve shrugs in daze. He knows he shouldn't be here.

Blurr spits up a mouthful of blood

“I'm sorry I hurt you uh...”

“Swerve.”

“Yes. Swerve. It's hard for me to remember things unless they're...akgh...hell... not in my face all the time.”

Swerve moves closer and frowns

“You know, that explains but doesn't excuse you.”

Blurr closes his eye and coughs. That sounds really bad.

“No...I guess not.”

He huffs off the blood again. The burned half of his face is oozing with it. The blood runs down his forehead, collecting in a small puddle on the floor.

“It was better than letting everyone know what's wrong with me. I can't even begin to think about the amount of messes I'd be dragged into.”

Swerve notes that the fire seems to be getting closer.

This whole bit of dialog is so unnatural. Who even talks about that kind of stuff before they die. On the other hand. Well. Character development?

“So you think it's better to have everyone assume you're a jerk than that you got your head screwed on?”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“ You're a very specific kind of ghost.”

Swerve shoves his hands in his pockets and looks away

“I needed to know. Before you die.”

“That's ...akghhh...ha....it's good to know. Can you tell me something Swerve? As..agh...

As a last wish?”

Swerve shrugs again. He stares at the dripping blood. At the ugly, bubbling burns. At the burst vessels in his eye and the paths of blood from his bleeding nose. He looks at the broken and scorched and dying bloody mess.

He looks at Blurr.

And he thinks, until today, he didn't really love Blurr. Not with the posters and figurines. Not with the disdain and dislike.

He loved an image. And hated an image.

He reaches out and tries to touch Blurr's hand, but goes through it.

“I'm sorry. But we're both not really here. And I have to go.”

He can feel the cold metal around him, which is strange because he's standing in the middle of smoking and burning ruins

“But if it makes you happy, I guess you're my favorite character after all.”

Blurr doesn't answer. Swerve isn't sure he even heard him.

The feeling of metal around him grows sharper.

Someone shines a flashlight in his face.

Swerve blinks stupidly and tries to move away.

The unknown Autobot medic standing over him smiles happily and puts the flashlight away

“Welcome back. You've been in a coma Primus knows how long.”

The other medic to the side frowns

“You have zero tact.”

Swerve blinks his optics puzzled, raises his servo and for a while just stares at it like some movie character. All around him is an Autobot medbay. Metal walls. Metal instruments. And him. Metal.

Yes. Seems so. That's the way he's always been. That's right.

“Doc, you won't believe what kind of weird dream I had.”

___________

Swerve feels like he's going crazy.

He's standing in the middle of a hallway on one of the Autobot ships, and he's staring. shamelessly.

There's Prowl standing at the end of the hallway. And on his shoulder is...

“ JAZZ????”

Both bot and human turn around abruptly at his scream. And both look equally puzzled.

Jazz waves his hand

“Do I know you?”

Swerve is definitely going crazy. It's Jazz. The same one. From his...dream??? But he's real and tangible??? Sitting on Prowl's shoulder, talking and breathing and being seen by everyone not only Swerve????

“You're...real...?”

Jazz raises his eyebrows

“I am. Yes. Really Mech, you sound very familiar.

But I can tell you for a fact that I have not been friends with any Cybertronians before...”

This can't be, this can't be, this isn't....

It was a dream. The spawn of his TV series-addled mind. A hallucination. It wasn't real. It wasn't, was it?

But Jazz is here. And he disappeared from Earth. And now he's here.

And.

What the..

Swerve blurts out something like “sorry-sorry-see-you-later-now-I've got to go” and runs off.

“HEY DOC????”

The autobot, already familiar to him, flinches

“Primus...Swerve? Is something wrong?”

Swerve realizes that everything is about to either make sense or lose it completely.

“Tell me...is it possible to project a holoform...like...very far away?”

The Doctor tilts his head.

“Depends on power consumption. If you channel all the energy available in a frame, you can go very far. But that would send you into a...coma...if you...tried...Swerve, is there anything you'd like to tell me?”

“Doc do you know where Earth is?”

“Wha...no?”

Swerve chuckles nervously and bites his knuckles.

“I don't either. But I think I've been there...”