One of the best things about being a writer is thinking of something small you can add to your work thatâs just. Devastating. Like youâre sitting there going. Oh. That would be diabolical. People would get really riled up about that. Exquisite. Letâs do it.
[if I couldnât find a sona I just borrowed the vibes from your tumblr/discord pfps and Frankensteined something together- if you donât see yourself- trUst, youâre in there xD]
*breAthes*
People that I couldnât function without but literally RAN OUT OF SPACE TO PUT ANYWHERE đŤľđđŤś
As much as I enjoy a ship focused fanfic, can we please appreciate the plot driven fics. Seriously. Iâve read some of the most passionate, beautiful fics purely made for the plot and they need more credit form the fanfic community <3
Questions could be limited. But for what options they gave, they gave them with absolute certainty.
The messiness of existence reduced to much simpler terms. Such as:
Was Swerve big or small?
Small. Yes, small could certainly describe him.
And yetâŚ. Not completely. Because how many times had Swerve felt big? Too big? Too much?
(The uncertainties, the realities of life remain.)
inspired by events of chapter 4 of mecha au by @keferon
âââââââââââââ-
*Are you one of the big ones or the small ones?*
The question lingers with Swerve long after his conversation with Blurr ends. There is no check box for him on human forms, Blurr had said. But if someone were to create that form, Swerve thinks perhaps it should be Blurr. He could certainly come up with all the questions â had asked Swerve all the questions, even when sometimes the reason behind them was unclear to Swerve himself. Questions at least had definite answers, perhaps that was it. The reason humans had such love for organizing life through forms and inquiries and paperwork, even as they simultaneously so clearly hated filling them out. Clearly defined queries. Clearly defined responses. Everything indicated by neat little boxes on a piece of paper.
Swerve had not enjoyed the paperwork of being a human himself anymore than any actual human probably did. But the idea of reliable certainties? Of all the messiness inherent in the day-to-day being able to be expressed in some way through those neatly defined categories.
Of course, in practice, it was never actually that simple still. Perhaps the motivation for the strong dislike of paperwork. However much people tried, they could never quite include all the possibilities for every scenario in every answer to every question. And staring at those neat boxes and trying to figure out how to check a box that didnât exist (and did that mean then that some facet of you that did exist did not, or should not?) â beyond frustrating. Forms were limited. But for what options they gave, they gave them with absolute certainty.
It had been a foundation of his work in engineering as well â possibilities and uncertainties quantified and expressed in definite terms. Swerve had liked that heâd realized. Being able to calculate velocities and torque and force and thrust and so many other factors and be able to put that together into a concept of a mech â knowing how it would move, react, fight before the concept made it out of his head. Seeing that concept brought to reality â first as blueprints, then through construction. It had been nice results of his efforts â their efforts â as something solid, tangible, recognizable.
Until Blurrâs mech
The thought drifts through Swerveâs mind uninvited. Blurrâs mech and the uncertainties around its construction. And Blurr himself. That had been the start. Then Jazz going missing. The attack. The crash. Swerve waking up. Only to not be human at allâŚ.
The uncertainties, the realities of life. So many of them. (Too many of them).
Donât think about that.
Swerve reminds himself. How easy to get lost in the uncertainties and possibilities and still not be able to predict the outcomes at all. Like how Blurrâs reaction had been totally unpredictable. Blurrâs questions had been unpredictable too. But the questions were well-defined and answerable (mostly).
Are you one of the big ones or the small ones?
The question drifts across Swerveâs mind again. And his immediate thought in response.
WhatâŚ.
Swerve could understand the question and itâs nice neat set of possible answers. Big. Or small. But the meaning behind it? Big or small relative to what? In terms of what? (And why?)
Swerve was small relative to other Cybertronians. Swerveâs initial projection even was small relative to other humans â so many of the other pilots, including Blurr, standing tall relative to Swerveâs own height. His holoform now as Blurr had seen him â the ghost alien projection â smaller still. Designed with the intent of being small, unnoticeable, unimportant. The way that Swerve himself had felt small too, so many times. Off to the side. Not the main character. Not noticed apart from perhaps taking up space (and not even that really, considering nobody saw the lack of Swerve taking up space even when he had fallen into his coma).
So was Swerve big or small?
Small. Yes, small could certainly describe him.
And yetâŚ. Not completely. How many times had Swerve felt big? Too big? Too much? Everytime he opened his mouth and started to talk â so many words spilling out that they could more than fill a room on Cybertron with Swerveâs presence until he had shrank and fell silent under everyoneâs stares. When he had first stood next to Jazz after waking up from his coma, had been aware that Jazz was real. How large he had felt in his Cybertronian form compared to looking down on a human, when he had been so used to looking up at people while in his holoform on Earth.
Which leaves Swerve uncertain still. He is big. And yet he is small. The answer could not be both. And so Swerve had answered with perhaps the most straightforward answer. That he was small relative to his species. Because small fit. In more ways than one. With what Swerve was. With how he had felt.
Yet how Swerve feels when he is with Blurr is neither of those things. It feels something like when Swerve first met and stood next to Blurr â illuminated by the strength of the spotlight the man carried with him. That Swerveâs presence was neither so large as to be overshadowed, nor so small as to fade into the shadows at the edge of the light. Except now without the artificial, fake aftertaste that would hit when Blurr and the spotlight that followed him moved on.
i will ensure you stay alive above all else. even if what i do to make it happen is horrendous. even if it violates all your wishes or moral principles. even if you can never look at me the same way again, even if you hate me for it. because at least if you hate me it means youre alive
in 2026, remember how GOOD writing feels. remember how satsfying it is to get your characters to the point you have been dying to get to, where they will experience the love, fear, relief or whatever the feeling you want to bring to life may be. let this year be the year of writing, prgress and of satisfactory endings.
I understand the "I will die for you" ship dynamic, but what about the "I will not let you die, I will not let myself die- we will, at any cost, survive" kind of couple?
Mirage is enjoying this. Enjoying playing out this neat little pre-packaged fantasy in his head. Enjoying the idea that he can play with people and thinking they will do exactly what he wants. Thinking that because he knows whatâs in Blurrâs head that he understands.
Mirage is wrong.
spellbound au by @keferon
(all lines in dialogue tags are originally from this update)
âAre you kidding me? I donât talk like that!â. Blurr doesnât even try to hold back the exclamation. This needs to stop. Mirage needs to stop. BeforeâŚ.
âYou know. Your goal is to make sure he doesnât look for me.â Blurr pours as much emphasis as he can muster into the negative, even as a part of his mind is screaming at him now to stop talking stop talking stop talking do you want to be trapped here forever do you want this to be what the rest of your life looks like do youâŚ.
(Blurr doesnât. He hadnât wanted any of this.)
It doesnât matter. His wants donât matter. Not when Shockwaveâs the one on the other end of Mirageâs manipulations. Not when none of this is necessary. Thereâs no reason Mirage needs the illusion to do more than maintain Blurrâs presence. Thereâs no reason for the stunts Mirage is pulling now. Those actions arenât required to keep up the illusion of Blurrâs presence in Shockwaveâs life. Mirage is just taking advantage of the situation to dig a little deeper at Blurr when heâs already wounded. To taunt Blurr with just how little he can do. And just how much Mirage can.
And itâs working itâs working and thatâs the other reason a part of Blurrâs mind is screaming at him to stop because the more he keeps talking the more likely it is that Mirage can tell this is bothering Blurr and the more he can tell itâs bothering Blurr the more heâll keep doing it and then Shockwave willâŚ.and Blurr canâtâŚ.
âMmmmm I donât know,â Mirage hums âGuilt tripping mechs into staying in one place is pretty easy when you mix in some feelings.â
You would know. Guilt tripping. Manipulations. Feelings and emotions reduced to nothing but tools and what does that say about you, Mirage?
The thought comes with a strong desire to wipe the smirk Mirage is currently wearing off his face. A desire Blurr can do nothing to act on except to glare back at Mirage as he continues.
âHe wonât go anywhere because he needs to look after his precious terribly sick little lover.â
It takes all Blurrâs willpower not to flinch away from the mocking derision underlying those last five words.
âThen. Poor thing dies. Or leaves him.â
Mirage is Mirage is going toâŚ.ShockwaveâŚMirage isâŚ.
The thoughts of what Mirage could do. Is going to do â to him, to Shockwave, to Shockwave to get at him. What Mirage is currently doing. Those thoughts race through Blurrâs mind at helpless-anger-fear-fueled speeds that make them barely processable even for him.
âSo heâll probably cry and rage a bit. And then move on.â
âYou bastard.â The words spill from Blurrâs mouth before he has even completely registered what it is Mirage is saying. Words fueled by all the feelings and reactions he can no longer hold back.
Mirage isâŚ.
Mirage is enjoying this. Enjoying playing out this neat little pre-packaged fantasy in his head. Enjoying the idea that he can play with people and thinking they will do exactly what he wants. Thinking that because he knows whatâs in Blurrâs head that he understands. He doesnât. Couldnât possibly understand. What that could do to ShockwaveâŚ.
âBy the way âyouââŚ.â
Blurr flinches involuntarily, pulled from his thoughts as Mirage invokes that thing that is not him.
(What has âheâ done? No. Not him. Mirage. What has Mirage done? Blurr doesnât want to know. Needs to know.)
ââŚ.just got a cute little kiss.â
Its not him. Itâs not him itâs not him itâs notâŚ.
âMaybe I should see how far I can take this scenario.â Mirage leans back casually as he says the words.
Oh fuck. This has to stop. Blurr canât Mirage canât Blurr can notâŚ.
âDonât you fucking dare.â Blurr lunges forward. He doesnât have his sword. Doesnât even have use of his hands. He doesnât care. Doesnât think. Needs to get at Mirage. Needs to get out of here. Needs to get to Shockwave. Needs toâŚ.
Stop this stop this stop-this-stopthisâŚ.
The chains yank him back. Holding him in place. Adding pain on top of the ache growing in his arms. (Pain Blurr ignores. There are far more concerning things at stake.) Mirage just stands across from him, smiling. Smiling that infuriating smile and Blurr wantsâŚ.
(Blurrâs wants do not matter here. He can do nothing about what he wants. What he needs though?)
âHeâll notice.â Blurr says the words firmly. No question. No room for doubt. Mirage may think he knows Shockwave. Blurr not only knows Shockwave. He understands him.
Is Blurr afraid of what could happen if Shockwave doesnât notice? Is he afraid for himself? Yes. Heâd be lying to himself not to recognize it and thereâs no point in that. Not now. Not here.
Is he afraid for Shockwave? Also yes. Because the manipulations Mirage could pull if Shockwave doesnât recognize the double? Shockwave doesnât deserve that. Doesnât deserve to have himself and his feelings and his actions be only an illusion controlled by someone else â to have all those choices be made false when he has only so recently regained the freedom to choose at all. He doesnât deserve to suffer watching Blurr suffer â watching Blurr waste away under illness until thereâs nothing of Blurr left. Shockwave doesnât deserve that loss â to lose what little heâs just recently realized he has after he thought heâd already lost everything.
Shockwave does not deserve any of this. Should not be involved at all. Would not be involved at all. Except for because of Blurr. Shockwave is tangled up in this only because of association by Blurr. And whatever happens to him it will be because of Blurr.
(Could it not be enough for Mirage to have Blurr? To give Shockwave a double to live out the rest of his life with happily and never be any the wiser that Blurr himself was actually gone? Would that not be enough to give Mirage what he wants? The debt is Blurrâs. What is owed is Blurrâs to pay. Shockwave should not be having to pay for it too.)
âWhy would he?â
Blurr finds himself hoping Mirage is right. Any other time, Blurr would be hoping that Shockwave would recognize the illusion. Would see through it.
But now? When the possibility of him seeing through it is so much worse?
Because seeing through the illusion means not just that Shockwave would see Blurr for himself â but that he will see everything behind the illusion as well. All of this. Mirage. Everything Blurr has tried to keep distant from Shockwave. And Shockwave is injured still. Has barely had any time with his old frame being back from the demon form. It was the reason Blurr had taken the risk in the first place. Shockwave needed medical treatment. Shockwave needs healing. Needs time. Needs rest.
Shockwave will not rest if he finds out that Blurr is not Blurr. Blurr knows that much. Shockwave will look for him. Shockwave is smart, knowledgeable in magic, capable of figuring out what has happened to Blurr. But after that? After he knows? If he finds Blurr here? Powerless, while Mirage holds all the power? What could happen to Shockwave? With Blurr able to do nothing but watch?
That would be so much worse than the play Mirage is performing now because it will be live and with all the players unmasked. And Blurr cannot he canât he canât he-canâtâŚ.
âYou never tell anyone anything. He barely knows you.â
Blurr feels himself crumpling slightly under the words. Because please let Mirage be right. Even as it stings. The idea that he can never be known. Will never be known. That it does not matter whether he wants to tell anyone anything or not.
(His wants do not matter. But he wants nevertheless. Wants Shockwave to know him, to understand him. Wants that more than just about anything. Apart from maybe to be out of this place. Away from here. He wants. Wants that future where it is safe to talk and not worry about his past. About all this catching up to him and anyone he may have made the mistake of getting close to. Wants a future that can be more than him just forever running. Wants a futureâŚ..)
It does not matter what Blurr wants. Because this is what has happened. Blurr may have been doomed by his own past. All that can be left then is that he wants â needs â Shockwave away from all this. If Blurr must be trapped, that there still be a way for Shockwave to escape, to be safe. Please please pleasepleaseâŚ.
The pleas circle around his head, Blurr refusing to give them voice. He will not give Mirage the satisfaction of hearing. Will beg silently to any higher power if there is one that can take pity on him to spare Shockwave this. But not Mirage. Never Mirage. (Mirage would only turn the thoughts, the pleas, the hopes against Blurr if he knew.)
âItâs almost too eaâŚ.syâŚ.â
Blurr canât help but feel a certain thrill at watching how Mirage crumples with all his composure and all his certainties as his eyes glow red.
âAre you okay?â Blurr asks as Mirage doubles over, shaking. He wants â needs â to know whatâs going on. Anything thatâs impacting Mirage at this point impacts Blurr.
But more than that, âYea no. That looks painful.â Blurr canât keep the words from his mouth nor the smile from his face â seeing how for all Mirageâs taunting and lording his position over Blurr the other has been brought just a little bit lower. How, Blurr suspects, Mirage in all his arrogance was over-confident. And wrong. Shockwave noticed.
(The thought that Shockwave knows Blurr enough to notice pushes back stronger against all the self-doubts and convictions that no one could know Blurr that Mirage has been trying to seed in Blurrâs head. Shockwave knows him. Or at least, knows him enough to know when Blurr is not Blurr.)
Shockwave noticed. Blurr pushes down the rising mix of emotions at the thought. Picks up his battered thoughts so that when Mirage faces him again â insulting him, insulting Shockwave â Blurr lets the words pass through him. Looks Mirage straight in the face and says almost scoldingly âYouâre being needlessly rude. Donât call him that.â
âDo you even know what he did??â
A small part of Blurr delights at the lack of composure Mirage is able to put into his response, while the rest wonders just what it is Shockwave has done (and a small deeply buried desire whispers that it doesnât matter because if what Shockwave has done is enough to hurt and disrupt MirageâŚ.)
âNo but Iâm guessing he noticed huh? I told you he would,â Blurr lets some of the smugness bleed into his words. He may be afraid. But his fear is keeping him alert, keeping him wary, keeping him on guard against Mirage.
Despite his fear, Blurr does not flinch when Mirage leans threateningly over him. Mirage has made the far worse mistake in his arrogance â assuming he could relax and play and that everything would remain under his control. And Mirage has paid for it. They both know it.
What might happen next? What might happen next sets Blurr on edge. No matter how many illusions Mirage might create, it cannot undo what has already happened. Cannot change the fact that Shockwave knows. Shockwave knows. And that is enough to keep Blurr fighting, whatever Mirage might throw at them â whatever words or scenarios might be contrived. Blurr has to keep fighting, because if anything Shockwave is deeper into this now, not further removed from it.
Shockwave knows now that what lies beneath the familiar face is the furthest thing from the one he truly cares about. He will get at the truth. Whatever it takes to get it.
spellbound au by @keferon
(all lines in dialogue tags are originally from this update; mainly expanding on what Shockwaveâs thoughts could have been as the dialogue was going on because the possibilities there took ahold of my brain)
Shockwave focuses in on the actions rather than words of theâŚ.being.
Not Blurr. He refuses to think of this thing, whatever it is, as Blurr. Not anymore. Not when heâs already wasted too much precious time being fooled by looks and words. Not when he has no idea if Blurr is evenâŚ.
Shockwave feels his grip digging in. Hears the soft creak of metal under stress. âWhere is Blurr?â Shockwave asks, voice infused with an icy calm.
Denials spill from the mouth of the imposter in front of him at speed that Shockwave can barely keep up with processing. Not that it really matters to try. Any denial is fake. Protestations that the one who stands before him is Blurr are false. Lies.
He may have fallen for the words earlier. Allowed Blurr his vague justifications in response to Shockwaveâs questions. Even as the little things started to add up in his mind enough to be concerned towards Blurr. Even as he had not yet known what it was he was concerned about. He does now. He knows exactly what his concern is. And he is going to find out what he needs to know. No vague answers. No subtleties. The truth.
âI would like to knowâŚ.â Shockwave measures each word carefully. âWhere he is. Who took him. And when.â The force with which his hands press around the fakeâs helm increases with each sentence.
Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.
How long have you been here, and not him? Where is he? Who did this? If Blurrâs been harmed?
The questions spin around Shockwaveâs processor as he lets the fool in front of him babble. Shockwave could almost laugh, if not for the gravity of the situation. As though anything thatâs said can save the imposter now. As though wearing Blurrâs face â Blurrâs identity â might cause Shockwave to hesitate. As though he has not already been forced to hurt, to maim, to kill those he cared about. And every second of that had been a raw gouging agony digging into Shockwaveâs very core. But he had had to go through with it anyways. Does the thing before him think that he will flinch at adding a little more spilled blood to his hands just because of a friendly face? No. This will cause Shockwave no such agony. Not when he knows that what lies beneath the familiar face is the furthest thing from the one he truly cares about. Shockwave will get at the truth. Whatever it takes to get it.
If the creature will not give up the truth itself, then Shockwave will pry it out. He could split the thingâs helm in two now. Would. Only that will get him no closer to finding out the fate of his Blurr. If his finger digging physically into its helm makes no difference, then how would it feel about him digging through its mind?
He asks it as much, in the same cool, collected tone as every question he has asked so far. Pauses for the briefest moment. Then leans in close, conspiratorially, and with a gleam in his eye confesses âI am a bit out of practice though.â
The stumbling spill of pleas mostly filters through Shockwaveâs processor. Useless. UntilâŚ.
ââŚ.Ask something, anything only I would achâŚ.â
Shockwave barely hears the scream underneath the roaring in his own head.
Something, anything, only Blurr would know. Something, anythingâŚ.
The words are drowning out all other thought. It wouldnât matter if he did ask, Shockwave knows. He is realizing suddenly, just how little he has known about Blurr. How he does not even know exactly when the one before him took Blurrâs place. Could not tell if the stories he was told were truly Blurrâs. Could not identify the words. But the words hadnât mattered in the end. He may not know all the details of Blurrâs life â the kind of secrets that most would trust to prove an identity. But he knows Blurr nonetheless. Knows him by his actions, by his laughter, by all the small little details that one doesnât have to think about. One just knows. And perhaps takes them for granted until they are not there anymore.
Something, anything, only Blurr would know.
Useful information, yes. ThisâŚ.thing. Has Blurrâs thoughts. It was not enough to take Blurrâs appearance. To take Blurrâs place. To take Blurrâs care towards him and make aâŚ.make a mockery with Blurrâs feelings. Of course Blurrâs thoughts would be taken too.
Something, anythingâŚ.
Shockwave has been trying to get the creature to give him that. Something. Anything, that he can work from to begin to figure out what has become of Blurr. This is something. Something Shockwave is even more determined to make sure the one in front of him regrets.
Shockwave studies the face of the mech in front of him. One optic has gone dark. Dark and empty as the reality of this imposter, compared to the brightness that was (is, could still be) Blurr. The other optic is sparking dangerously, but Shockwave does not loosen his grip.
The thing before him is cold. Sparkless. Pulling at strings to make an imitation of a life.
Shockwave has already wasted too much precious time on it. And while he may be closer to understanding just how far it has gone in usurping Blurrâs place, nothing has told him where Blurr is. Time is out. (If it had not already run out before they even began.)
Shockwave lifts the thing bodily by its face â leaving it hanging from his hands like the puppet with cut strings that it is.
He leans in close. âTalk. Now.â
The imposter smiles at him. Smiles. Not Blurrâs smile. A smile that freezes Shockwave in place and sends a sickening feeling reeling through his spark.
âThat idiot had debts to pay. And no more of those filthy creatures to guard him.â
It takes all Shockwaves power not to flinch at the words. Filthy creatures. Demons. Blurr was summoning demons toâŚ.Blurr hadâŚ.
Shockwave can feel the blood spilling down his hands. He does not care. The creature no longer seems to care either, seeming far more interested in the secrets of Blurrâs it could spill instead.
âIf anything Iâm doing you a favor. Trust me he would leave you anyway. Just like he did to every other mech he knew. You want your little moron back?â
Taunting him. Itâs taunting him.
Idiot. Moron. Filthy creatures to guard him.
Whatever truth lies behind the words matters far less than what he knows the imposter has gotten wrong. The Blurr he knows is not an idiot nor a moron. And while Shockwave may no longer be a demon, that does not mean that he will stop guarding Blurr so long as it is in his power to do so. And if Shockwave must filthy his hands to do so, then heâs already proven himself willing has he not.
The imposter is grinning up at him both eyes sparking white now, as though burning from the power running through it at the words it can use to dig at Shockwaveâs own composure. To try and get him to crack as he has tried to make it crack.
âGo to the hills. His body might still be there,â the imposterâs voice lilts.
Shockwave cannot entirely keep the reaction from his face.
Body. His body may still be there. His bodyâŚ.
Shockwaveâs grip slips off the imposterâs helm almost flinging it backwards away from him. He barely registers where the thing lands in a cold, grey heap, but notes with detached interest the spores that almost immediately begin sprouting from it.
He does not give it a backwards glance as he leaves. Whatever it is is gone. He has found out all he can find here. All that is left is what may lie ahead.
Blurr. OrâŚ.
Hopefully Blurr. Alive or dead.
(Alive. Please. Please still be alive.)
(Dead. Dead and whoever or whatever is responsible for this will face a reckoning. They think demons filthy creatures? Demons exist for one purpose. To hunt. Shockwave will give himself over to the hunter. Hunt them down, and ensure they pay for whatever has become of Blurr. If Shockwave cannot defend Blurr, then he will take vengeance.)
The journey is both too long and too short to reach the hills.
Too long because it is filled with nothing but the thoughts spinning through his head. Alive. Dead. Alive. Dead. AliveâŚ..
How could this have happened? Shockwave had assumed Blurr safe. Had not seen any hint of trouble or other indicator that Blurr had been in danger. Had been threatened.
Though perhapsâŚ.Perhaps he had been looking in all the wrong places. Too caught up in his own assumptions. Again.
He should know better. Should have known better. Has told himself he had learned. Did know better.
After the trial, after his assumptions about what would be allowed had been proven so disastrously wrong. He had paid the price, turned to a demon as punishment. Before that even he had taught his students as much â to not use assumptions as substitute for learning. Then had watched them suffer the consequences of his assumption â forced to pay with their lives because Shockwave himself had failed to heed his own lessons and learn the limits to which the Council could be tested. And now, Blurr. Shockwave had not worried about Blurr because he assumed Blurr safe. Assumed that if Blurr was no threat to the Council then Blurr could not be threatened. If Blurr too has paid for Shockwaveâs assumptionsâŚ.
The journey is too short because he dreads what he may find at its end. Dreads when he sees Blurrâs body lying still â almost death-like â underneath the trees. An icy chill floods through his. He cannot close the distance between them fast enough. Cannot hear the sounds of the forest over the echoes of his own voice calling Blurrâs name.
The relief when Blurr stirs in his arms and murmurs his name is immeasurable, a flood of warmth filling Shockwave as he pulls Blurr closer in his arms.
(And Shockwave wonders, is this how it felt for Blurr in the moments when Shockwave himself was between living and dying? In the moment after? When he first realized that Shockwave was still there? Still alive in his arms?)
I think the purest form of love is just wanting someone to notice life with you. "taste this. look at that. hear this song." again and again. until you can't imagine noticing life without them.
little inconsistencies that at first you assume "oh, the author must have fucked up", but then later on you realize that no, it was on purpose, they wanted you to think they fucked up but they hadnt
Taking Shockwaveâs hand seems like nothing. But Blurr canât just stand there either. So he does what heâs always done. Offers what comfort he can even when it seems small and insufficient.
(Because that moment, the amount of meaning carried in that one gesture has been haunting me)
All the anger Blurrâs feeling â the desire to fight â fades in an instant when he turns to look at Shockwave. Eclipsed by the need to help. To do something. Anything. Because Shockwave looksâŚ.helpless. Lost. More lost than Blurrâs ever seen him.
Blurr wants to say something. Reassurances. That heâll be fine â theyâll be fine. That theyâll figure something out. That this isnât the end.
The words die before the thoughts are even half formed. Nothing about this is alright. Nothing about the power thatâs held over Shockwave can or should ever be alright â Blurr knows.
Thereâs nothing Blurr can do. Nothing Shockwave would have him do. Blurr would end them in an instant â the ones that caused Shockwave this pain â if Shockwave asked. But Shockwave does not ask.
Instead Shockwave stumbles through the words for Blurr that he is unable to voice. Shouting to the sky that itâs not fair. Words that tear at the very ache Blurrâs feeling until itâs a gaping wound.
Itâs not fair. Itâs not fair itâs not fair itâs not itâs not it canât beâŚ.
(Please donât let it be the end. It canât be the end. Not yet. Itâs too soon. Not like this. It canât end like this.)
Thereâs nothing Blurr can do.
The small shining moments theyâve held together seem dim. Barely flickering and clinging to light. Seeming feeble and useless compared to the magnitude of what Blurr has just witnessed. Because Shockwave had explained. Explained that there was no other escape except death. Shockwave had explained and yet Blurr had hoped anyways. Hoped against hope. Because what else could he do. When heâŚ..
Blurr has never felt so helpless. Has never felt so small as he does now standing next to Shockwave. Taking Shockwaveâs hand seems like nothing. But Blurr canât just stand there either. So he does what heâs always done. Offers what comfort he can even when it seems small and insufficient.
Shockwave does not shift at the gesture â his gaze fixed on the sky where the threat has long since disappeared from view (even if not from mind). Does not move, except for the slightest curl of the talon to wrap around Blurrâs hand.
They stand like that for what seems like it could be an eternity. Blurr holding on to Shockwave. Shockwave holding on to Blurr. As though if either lets go, if the moment is broken, then they will lose each other. (And maybe they will. Maybe they will, whispers a thought deep in the back of Blurrâs mind.)
Shockwave stares up at the sky. Blurr wonders what thoughts are crossing through his mind. Whether he is trying still to pick out a trace of a flier against the blue. Whether heâs wishing he was up there. Free to soar without care or worry amongst the clouds and feel the breeze and the light and not have to fear the pains of coming down to the ground and being trapped in the dark.
Blurr does not feel the breeze. Or the warmth of the light. The air around him has taken on a chill that cannot be dispersed.
None of it matters anyways. All that matters is the dark shape clearly silhouetted against the blue.
He stares up at Shockwave staring up at the sky. Commits to memory every curve of the antlers. The shape of his jaw. The sharp point of every ridge along its edge. Tries to hold on to the memory of Shockwave in his mind even as it feels that Shockwave beside him is growing more distant, thoughts somewhere beyond Blurrâs reach.
Blurr clings to that moment in silence and stillness, knowing that any change and it will be broken â the reality of where they stand, of what has just happened will come crashing back in.
The words when Shockwave speaks them shatter everything. Even as Blurr knows what he is saying and why. And understands â having seen what he has just seen, heard what he has just heard.
There is a way out of this. Shockwave knows. Blurr knows. Shockwave may not have anything left. Nothing except Blurr. Blurr is his hope. His way out. Always has been.
He gave Shockwave his word. Blurr always intended to follow through on that regardless. He just had thoughtâŚ.had hopedâŚ.
None of that matters now.
They are out of time and out of options. There is nothing else to be done.
Still, Shockwaveâs talon does not slip from Blurrâs grasp. And Blurr does not let go.
