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finz-art · 1 day ago

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A scene from the short-story "Fear so Beautiful" written by the ever-amazing @caesariawritesstuff, who also commissioned this page! Thank you SO much, I had a grand time bringing it to life! ^///^🖤🤍

Detective, OC © caesaria Scarecrow © DC Comics Art © Finzart

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keferon · 5 months ago

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At least when Swerve is there, Blurr doesn’t have to be entirely alone. But sometimes it feels like that doesn’t matter — isn’t enough. And tonight, tonight had been one of those nights.

——————————————

Swerve collapses back against the wall as he returns from his holoform to his frame. He’s glad Jazz and Prowl no longer feel the need to be on standby while he holoforms. Is glad there is no one here that he needs to put on a show for. No one to have to pretend everything is fine for when everything is anything but fine.

Swerve had never intended to stay on Earth as long he did. He certainly hadn’t planned on going back.

Only, now that he knows what’s going on, he can’t look away.

He’s gone back. Again. And again. and again….

Each time Swerve has watched Blurr. Watched the way he falls apart and puts himself back together, plastering over the cracks in his image until the surface is flawless, only for the plaster to dissolve and the cracks to show through again the moment the man is alone.

It hurts. Watching hurts — sometimes more than Swerve can bear.

It hurts knowing that no one else, apart from Swindle, knows what Blurr is going through. None of the other pilots know what Blurr is doing for them — how much he’s sacrificing.

Realizing that Blurr barely lets Swindle in, lets Swindle help, and even then the pair of them are keeping up a pretense — hurts.

(And despite it all Swerve can’t help but feel oddly grateful to Swindle, as strange as that thought is.)

And Swerve wonders whether even Swindle really knows. Because there are limits to what Blurr lets Swindle see.

It’s clear Blurr has no one he can trust to help carry the burden that he’s carrying. No one to ask for help. No one to share his pain with.

Swerve never realized until he started watching Blurr just how lonely and isolating fame could be. And so he’s kept going back. Even though it hurts. Because at least when Swerve is there, Blurr doesn’t have to be entirely alone.

But sometimes it feels like that doesn’t matter — isn’t enough. And tonight, tonight had been one of those nights. Bad. Worse than bad. Because tonight the cracks had split open. Swerve had heard Blurr muttering in his sleep. “Two down left down straight two down left down straight two down….” Sometimes stumbling over a word, sometimes forgetting. Faster and faster, as his hands had twisted around the sheets of the hospital bed.

And Swerve had left. Left as he had left Blurr when the man was dying. He had done nothing. Could do nothing. Even as he was probably the only one that knew the full significance of what those words meant.

Waking up from his holoform hurts. Hurt more than waking up from the realization that Blurr was not the perfect figure Swerve’s imagination had crafted. Because this time, Swerve’s waking up to the realization that life’s been going on around him the whole time while he’s been busy pretending to dream.

None of this is what Swerve intended. None of this is what he wants. Only none of that matters. Because he can’t go back and change what’s already happened. Because he’s still failing to find a way to be anything more than a passive observer to the present.

And it hurts even more that, knowing what he knows now, Swerve can believe only too easily that this is what Blurr’s been doing all along. Maybe the flaws, the cracks in the perfect image have always been there. Always hidden from the public eye. Only visible when Blurr knew no one was watching. When Blurr was able to let the mask slip and let his guard down.

Only now under stress and pressure the cracks have gotten wider — more obvious. And it’s obvious that it’s taking more and more out of Blurr each time to keep covering them up, keep pretending that everything is fine when it so clearly shouldn’t be.

At least this time Blurr isn’t dying.

Though sometimes, Swerve wonders.

Physically, Blurr is alive.

But watching this show, Swerve wonders if Blurr isn’t still dying a little internally.

And the worst is there’s nothing Swerve can do but watch. Again. Except this time he knows it’s real. He’s never felt so damn helpless.

And Swerve is starting to feel like a part of himself is dying alongside Blurr as he watches.

Oohho the tasty crunchy angst for dinner today hhmmmmmkfjfjfkdlodidu