#still one of the best reading experiences of my LIFE

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Ch. 110: Is Donovan Desmond a Mind Reader and Most Importantly, Is Twilight Doomed?

Nah.

Twilight isn't doomed, this isn't the end. Calm down, there's no need to panic about that.

Think about it for a second, if Donovan Desmond could read minds, the SSS would have arrested Twilight the minute he said bye to Desmond on that first meeting.

A few months ago, when we saw a young Donovan Desmond appear, I did a poll/analysis about whether or not he could read minds.

Even after the most recent chapter, my opinion is still the same: No, he can't.

Some people think that maybe he can get a glimpse into people's past. Although that would be a super awesome power (and it would be one hell of a plot), I don't think it's the case, because that wouldn't really tell him much and I don't think it would have affected him to the point of forcing him to distance himself from everyone.

I do have a theory about him. I've mentioned it before but here it is again:

I think he can tell when someone is lying.

Yup. That's it. A human lie detector. It made sense a few months ago, it makes even more sense now.

It fits his personality, his fixation with liars as a child, it also fits the theme of the whole story (everyone is a liar in sxf, everyone has something to hide) and most importantly, it fits his behavior.

We know that Donovan Desmond did not initiate war with Westalis. Chapman was Prime Minister when the war started and Desmond followed after him. There's a big chance war ended while Desmond was in power. If I'm not mistaken, the war has been over for about 10 years. I have the feeling that Desmond may have launched Project Apple as a means to protect peace.

And how would someone who is obsessed with lies do that? Of course, by wanting to know how others really think at all times.

My guess is that he volunteered himself to participate in the experiments, that would also explain the scars he has on each side of his head (which he didn't have as a child). It's unlikely he was a war veteran, because politicians and people in office never go into a battlefield, so he didn't get those scars in battle.

I think he really tried to obtain mindreading abilities and he failed, but not completely.

Imagine how it would be to have that awareness of people lying ALL THE TIME. How awful it must have been for him to get this power and realize than even his family, the people he felt closest to were lying to him. I think that's the reason why he isolated from everyone. It also fits what Melinda describe in the last chapter:

Let's look at that Desmond family dinner from that perspective. He cannot read minds but he can tell his wife is lying (because she's scared of him and doesn't want to be there!). It also makes sense that Demetrius keeps his mind blank because he suspects his father knows what he's thinking, so he's train himself to not think in front of others.

His behavior shows a person who has completely lost faith in humanity. He pushed everyone away because he didn't want any more lies, and to protect himself but, by doing this, he also ended up hurting his wife to such an extent that she doesn't recognize him anymore.

Since another theme of sxf is getting closer to and relying on people while forming bonds despite their masks and lies, I can totally see this could be Donovan's story, also parallel to Twilight's by the way: You can distance yourself from others to protect yourself but it'll be a lonely life.

Yes, Donovan is safe, guarded from everyone's lies, but he's also missing out on his family's love and also on the possibility of changing the world for the best.

Twilight is going in exactly the opposite direction of him. He's becoming alive, tearing those walls down, learning to rely on others, and loving his family.

Another Important Thing to Consider...

Everyone is so worried about Donovan Desmond possible mindreading powers that no one has mentioned one very important thing: Twilight's purpose for Operation Strix!

THIS is what WISE and Twilight really want to do: to find information that would allow them to remove people who seek war from power.

It's one hell of a strategy and a tough one for sure. And I agree; scandal, especially in such a conservative society like Ostania could do a lot of damage to politicians like Desmond, parties like the National Unity Party, and institutions like the SSS.

It wouldn't surprise me if at some point in the story it actually works. However, I don't think Westalis is as clean as we think. Food for thought.

[physalian]

Hi just had a question as an aspiring author. How do you stay motivated to write even if you don’t get many sales? I would never stop writing but I would probably lose my ability to complete books if I thought no one would read them.

It was definitely tough after my debut novel released after 7 months of effort and two different influencer scams cost me my entire author Instagram account, and a frustrating experience on TikTok. I’d been putting all my effort onto this platform for marketing and building an audience because Tumblr doesn’t require graphics and videos that I hate making. And, it doesn’t have an algorithm, if you have a following, it’s because you worked hard for one, as opposed to chasing clout, for the most part.

But having as many lurkers as I do (hi everyone) and realizing that a) the advice I give for free isn’t as appreciated as I thought it was and b) 1000+ followers doesn’t mean a damn because 90% of my sales were family and family friends (not my friends tho, my friends don’t read or care about what I’m working on)… it was hard. I got pretty cynical. I didn’t ever give up on writing, but I did almost give up on telling people about it.

I’m not good at nagging people to keep to their commitments and if somebody tells me they’re going to do something… let’s just say I’ve grown up learning not quickly enough that “Yeah sure absolutely!” is a polite way of saying “I’m not going to ever do this but I’m not going to tell you that” if doing the thing doesn’t happen immediately.

I did, however, stop writing my fanfics, which don’t give me monetary profit, but they do (or did) give me engagement, and I wasn’t getting that, so I stopped caring and it stopped being fun.

As for my writing, after 9 years of doing it quietly for myself, it wasn’t that hard to get back into the “write for yourself” mindset, but it was hard not doing so through a cynical lens.

And I’m still there, ngl. My debut novel is the first of four in a series, and if nobody read the first one, it’ll be impossible to get anyone to read the second one if doing so requires 111k words of homework. Traditionally published authors face diminishing returns just like this.

But I’m still writing, because I want to know how the story ends, and if I’m doing so somewhat out of spite, then so be it.

My new novella is very short, and cheaper. It might take somebody 2 hours to read in one sitting. If that doesn’t get sales… I’m not sure. Giving advice like “don’t make other people’s decisions for them” in preemptively not sharing your work because you assume they won’t like it is great in theory, but difficult in practice.

I write because I want to give people the heroes that I didn’t have. I want to give people characters that no one else is writing, so they can go “look, it’s me, I am seen” and know that they’re not alone.

So the best I can say is, I think, what I’ve said before and which I’m coopting from elsewhere:

“It’s okay if you only ever save one person in this life, and it’s okay if that person is yourself.”

[bright-side20]

The impossible love❤️‍🔥

I wanted to share the translation of one of my favorite poems by Nizar Qabbani. It’s such a beautiful piece, it even exists as a song, and it honestly feels so Elriel coded. It makes me so happy every time I read or listen to it.

I love you so much,

And I know that the road to the Impossible is long,

And I know that you are the best of women,

And I have no other alternative.

I know that the era of lovers has ended,

And the beautiful words died,

What can I say to the best of women,

I love you so much.

I love you so much and I know

That I live in exile,

And you, too, are in exile,

Between us winds, lightning, clouds, thunder, snow, and fire

I know that reaching your eyes is just an illusion,

And reaching your lips is suicide,

But it pleases me

To tear myself apart for your sake, dearest one.

And if they gave me a choice,

I'd choose to love you again and again.

You, for whom I wove a gown from leaves of trees,

You whom I protected with patience from drops of rain,

I love you so much,

And I know that I voyage through the sea of your eyes without certainty.

I leave my mind, my reason,

And run...run...after my madness.

Oh woman who holds my heart in her hands,

I ask you, by God, don't leave me,

Don't leave me.

What can I ever be without you?

I love you....

I love you so much...so very much...

And I refuse to resign from the fire of your love.

Can a lover, mad with passion, ever resign?

It does not matter to me

If I emerge alive from this love,

Or if I emerge slain.

I love you so much,

And I know I am deeply entangled,

That I have burned all the ships behind me.

I know I will lose terribly,

Despite the thousands of women,

Despite the thousands of experiences.

I love you so much,

And I know that in the forests of your eyes,

I fight alone.

Like a madman, I have tried to capture the stars.

I still love you, despite my conviction

That me staying alive up till now, resisting your love, is a miracle.

I love you so much,

And I know I gamble with my life.

I know my horse will lose,

And the road to your father's house

Is guarded by thousands of soldiers.

Yet I love you still, despite knowing

That uttering your name is blasphemy.

That my battle on paper is futile.

I love you so much,

And I know that loving you is suicide.

And when my role is over,

The curtain will fall.

I will lay my head on your arms,

Knowing that dawn will never come.

I convince myself

That my fall as a martyr on your lips

Is a victory.

I love you so much,

And I know from the beginning

That I will fail,

That in the chapters of this story, I will be killed.

My head will be delivered to you,

And I will remain for thirty days,

Lying like a child upon your knees.

I will rejoice at the magnificence of such an ending,

And I will continue to love you,

To love you so much!

[joosthead]

Ok now some non-family thoughts. I love normal au in any era or timeline. Not just the family stuff. I would love to know more of their backstory. I wanna see the 1.5 breakups, how they were during lockdown, how they were when Fryslân got released, how they were when he got the call that he was going to represent The Netherlands.

I'm very intrigued about Reader's role in the whole "eurovisie saga" (not surrounding the DQ itself obviously, but the happier parts. Before it all crashed and burned 🥲)

I wanna see Reader at the J005t Klein 4D Experience meeting Enzo and Myron for the first time and planning future double dates. I wanna see Reader backstage at Lowlands 2023 with matching mime makeup. I wanna see Reader in the hot air balloon with the rest of the gang; asking Joosti to kiss her before he takes a bite out of that onion and laughing at Appie fake proposing to Alanis for tiktok.

I love how you gave her friends too!!! Ruby and Marina seem so cool. So Ruby is involved with Tantu. Is Marina romantically linked with anyone or is she just living her best life as Alanis' friend? After seeing her having a drinking contest with Stuntje, I kinda ship it....lol.

I imagine Ruby is hanging out with Tantu and his friends one night and in walks in this goofy blonde man wearing clothes so baggy they look like they are falling off of him and a light bulb goes off in her head.💡 "Hey! Wanna meet my friend who needs to have fun for once in her life?"

Ruby and Tantu setting up their workaholic friends with each other and forming the most mismatched power couple in the friend group that some how produces a lasting marriage and 3 kids. Their impact lol. Well more like purse and baco's impact but the intent was there.

We have so many great writers and artists in the fandom and I love it so much. There's different flavors and vibes for everyone. So many creative and kind people. So chill compared to other platforms. Thank you again for taking the time to read and reply to these. It makes me so happy. More to come I promise. Overstim is going to be fire I know it. - family anon :)

omg i almost passed out i thought i lost this ask

but HEWWOOO FAMILY ANON

ive finally made time to write the response to this!!! i hope you enjoy !! its quite long ahdfskjf

suggestive rpf ahead, minors dni, anti-rpf dni, 18+ only

1.5 breakups will have their time in the sun hehe ;) i wish i could elaborate but huge spoilers LOL. you don't have to at all and please don't feel pressured to -- but i am always down to give spoilers in dms LOL !!

to be honest i have it so that the pandemmy doesnt happen because i tried writing with it and it was soo hard adksjakjds the bulk of their big relationship events and conflict happen during 2020-2021 so i just took it out LOL.

if the pandemmy did happen: there would definitely be a normal au baby or two MUCHHHH earlier LOL. yes it would be an accident. yes it would encourage them to get together much faster than they did. their lives would still be amazing <3 i always think its so interesting to think about stuff like that happening LOL

how they were when fryslan got released:

fryslan was huge for them cuz it was the first album he released with them officially together!! reader definitely gets lit at the release party (also they have crazy good sex that night). she was there through the entirety of the creation of fryslan so like... knowing how much it took to make it, start to finish was very :''') huge for them. j005t klein 7 was already in the midst of the process and one of the breakups happens during albino sports vol 1 creation. so fryslan being their first "wow everything is okay and we will together forever" is emotional for them hehe

eurovisie saga: i usually skirt around this event completely though it does canonically happen in universe. i probably will never write about the sad parts for obvious reasons

i think normal au reader was very involved in the planning for esc :) down to outfits and the rollout and the marketing for it ... definitely lots of sleepless nights in the klein household in the lead-up to. calling out of work cuz they pulled an all-nighter helping with the visuals. when they got the call it was a ton of tears for SURE like they cried for hours about it cuz they were just so proud of him after everything he's gone through... it is a huge "you made it" moment. they were already impressed with how far he'd gotten when they met in 2019 -- never thought something as big as this could happen, but knew that he could make it once he put his mind to it :''')

4d experience

FUTURE DOUBLE DATESSS WAHHHH i think for every friend that reader meets they become friends as well even if they're not super aligned with work and such LOL ... i think it's surprising for enzo that joosti would get with someone so different from him but he soon sees they fit together like pieces of a wonderfully weird puzzle <3 double dates are definitely in line!! especially when they all have kids and can save on the babysittter LOL reader 10000000% gets a little bit of a big head about being his gf and being backstage with him.... definitely lots of quickies lots of hands over mouths lots of disheveled clothing and having to run to the stage before he's late. heheheh

lowlands 2023

HNNNNNNNG they do mime makeup on each other and then fuck about it so they have to wipe it off and let the makeup artists do it LOL. smudged gray black white paint and breathy kissing ,,, fucks them in the skirt and everything... so into it. when they wash it off and get it baxk on again they take a million photos LOL he invites them on stage with the rest of the crew since they're all dressed up for it perfectly but once they see how GINORMOUS the crowd is they refuse and its good cuz once they see how huge this is they cry about it happily

hot air balloon

reader is like the biggest scaredy cat and had to be dragged onto the hot air balloon. im talking eyes screwed shut clinging onto joosti and the friends gigglign about it and promising they'll be fine ... joosti is like guys stop they're really scared :// so they stop and he talks to them. is fully ready to insist that the hot air balloon comes down but reader relaxes and they get to film their content for it <3. once they start making all their little tiktoks reader laughs a little bit and then asks for a kiss before joosti eats the onion hehe and they're fine for the rest of the time :)) my babies

im so glad ruby and marina are liked hehe -- i normally hate inserting ocs when writing rpf (and especially elaborating on them more than a name LOL) ruby and tantu are dating! and marina is the resident lesbian (idk if you know her but ive always envisioned marina like... looking like the director emma seligman LOL not to give my own faceclaims and affect your image of them but yeahhh. she definitely is living her best life as alanis' bestie !!

ruby and tantu

YESSSS i fully believe that once tantu and ruby get involved and she meets joosti she knows... she knows this guy will be fun for dear reader. whatever that means for reader since they never really have fun anyways. i think ruby fully decides on setting up reader and joosti after seeing tantu and joosti work on music together. his work ethic is on par with reader's and they're the same brand of detail oriented but the difference is joosti knows how to have fun and i think ruby really wants her girl to have some fun and live a little :'''). she is a little worried that reader will immediately shut it down cuz joosti is so. joosti. yknow. but shes so pleased when she sees they've argued and reader's given some fun to occupy them LOL. it's sort of a mental stimulation principle (mental stimulation that isnt work or school hehe) they are so mismatched and so unexpected but so goooood for each other. ruby is so happy about this until she's left babysitting 3 rowdy kids LOL at least it's always with tantu

i will give you some songs on the normal au playlist that might give some hintie hints about how the relationship is gonna play out: "spring into summer" by lizzy mcalpine (this is the defacto title of the au in my head. itll continue to be called normal au but this is sorta the perfect perfect encapsulation of the au.), "ankles" by lucy dacus, "maroon" taylor swift, "im not in love" by 10cc, "archie, marry me" by alvvays, "pristine" by snail mail, "everyday almost" by madi diaz, "could cry just thinkin about you (full version)" by troye sivan. hehe. i listen to music 90% based on lyrics and 10% based on sound LOL. so maybe this will help!

im so happy joostblr is this way !! ive never felt so safe in a fandom especially to post and talk and make friends... my last fandoms were pretty hostile so this is so so lovely even if the other platforms are sort of messes. i hope joosti come back soon so everyone comes back !! i miss everyone being here sooo much ajsdasj. im so happy joosti has connected me to wonderful readers and people like you who take their time to truly read and see my work -- i'm so grateful!!! so so so grateful :)) it makes me so happy being able to reply !! ily family anon and im so excited to see you again!!!

[wardenparker]

In the Still of the Night, ch 9

Zach Wellison x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Grown up and looking to the future, Zach Wellison and bunkmate Shane Morrissey are working for a new cruise line that offers its guests a vintage Vegas experience on the Mediterranean. The romantic atmosphere is rubbing off on many of the crew members, and Zach finds himself to be no exception when he meets the beautiful lead singer of Shane's band.

But being wrapped in the seductive arms of an atmospheric cruise is a far cry from real life. How will their relationship fare on dry land? They can't know unless they try.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, cooking, eating, discussion of clothing/costumes. Mentions of prison time served, mentions of past homelessness.* Family death, grief, unexpected complications, family secrets, mentions of military service, loss/death, surprises around every corner. Summary: Making a stop at the local food pantry on your way to the soulmate chapel leads to a surprising revelation, and it is only the first of many for this day. Notes: I apologize for the extra delay! It appears my flare up was not done flaring, but I didn't want to make everyone wait a whole extra week for this chapter. Happy reading!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8

“It will only take a few minutes.” Zach promises. “And it’s on the way.” He feels strange to be arriving to the food bank dressed in the immaculate suit that had once belonged to your grandfather. One of the half-dozen that your grandmother had saved, and he honestly wonders if it had been his wedding suit. It fits so well with the dress you are wearing.

"I don't mind at all." He's taken the lead in driving around over the last few days, and when he pulls into the parking lot of the church that runs the local food bank you're just happy and starry-eyed in the front seat next to him. Your grandmother's dress only needed a few pins to fit perfectly, and Zach is maybe an inch or two taller than your grandfather was based on the way the suit fits – but not different enough for him to be uncomfortable or for him to look anything over than devastatingly handsome.

He gives you a brilliant smile and leans over to kiss you. “Want to stay here?” He asks. “I can get everything out.”

“No, no, I want to help.” This is something that means a lot to both of you, and if you get to show off the fact that you’re obviously wearing a wedding dress? Well…you’ll be very happy to tell anyone who asks why.

He chuckles. “Don’t get your dress dirty.” He warns before opening the door to the SUV to hop out and go around back to open the trunk. There’s several boxes and the cooler with all the cold things. A good donation haul that can hopefully put some food in someone in need’s home.

“I won’t!” The dress, or the nearly convenient blue flats that you wore today that are now your something blue. You stack up two of the smaller boxes in your arms and trot up to the side entrance of the church at Zach’s side.

Zach had called first, to make sure they were accepting donations, so the doors open quickly. The preacher obviously watching out for the donation.

"You must be Mr. Wellison." The preacher opens the door wide to let you in and stops short when he sees you slightly behind your now fiancé. "Bunny! What a surprise." And all at once he understands. "These...these donations must be coming from your grandmother's house. I'm so very sorry for your loss, dear."

"Thank you, Reverend Michaels." The best you can offer is a small, polite smile. It doesn't seem right to be beaming with joy that you're about to marry your soulmate when someone offers their condolences. "But, yes. We thought that these would make a good addition to the pantry, especially since it's not the usual time of year for donations. There are a few more boxes in the car outside."

“Absolutely.” He nods, “I’ve got some extra hands here.” He turns back into the church. “Darrel! Come lend a hand, son.”

It figures.

It absolutely figures.

The spare set of hands the reverend has to offer is none other than your ex-boyfriend.

Darrel comes in from the other room with a smile on his face that drops the second he sees you and Zach – and his expression says it all.

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it.” Zach insists. Although he knows that Darrel hasn’t pressed any farther since you’ve talked to him, he doesn’t like the idea of taking anything from him, including help to donate food.

"It's okay." Darrel's head hangs a little, but he dusts off his hands and motions toward the door. "More hands make light work. It...looks like you're on your way somewhere, anyway."

“We are.” Zach’s jaw clenches slightly, but he doesn’t refuse his help a second time, it would be rude and the reverend would notice. He’s starting to think that Darrel is either the sweetest man in history, or he’s somehow bugged you to find out where you are. He wants to believe the latter rather than the first option.

"We're just dropping a few boxes off." You explain needlessly, and head rather immediately for the door.

"Headed to Windrixville?" Darrel guesses, shoving his hands in his pockets as he follows you out the door.

Zach pauses and looks over at you. Wanting to tell him yes, but it’s not his place.

He's right. It is up to you. Which is why you roll your shoulders back and try to find that poise you're somehow capable of onstage, even in the dirt parking lot of the church. "We're getting married," you tell him honestly. There's no point in being coy – he already guessed.

“Wow, uh, congratulations.” He offers, biting his lip before he offers you a smile that might not be completely genuine, but it’s not mocking or brittle.

"Thank you." While you're very aware that it's not what he wanted to hear out of your mouth, and you don't really want to hurt anybody, the fact is that ending this whole confusion once and for all is going to be a good thing. "I'm sorry about whatever my parents might have said, Darry, but this is it for me. Zach is it for me. And I don't say that lightly."

“He’s your soulmate.” Darrel acknowledges. “Your parents were always against soulmate matches, but- I know that you aren’t.” He swallows and shuffles slightly before moving to grab a box out from the back of the SUV. “Well, the quicker we get this unloaded, the sooner you can get married.”

"We appreciate the help." It's even more awkward than you thought it would be, and for a second all you can think to do is nod your head and reach for the cooler in the trunk.

“Babe, let me get that.” Zach tuts. “Here, take this smaller box, I don’t want you to ruin your dress.”

"Still tryin' to do more than you need to, Bun?" Darrel almost laughs as he shakes his head and looks to Zach. "One day you're gonna wake up to your whole house being redecorated, and she'll do it with a broken arm or something."

“I don’t doubt it.” Zach appreciates the spirit of the comment, and relaxes slightly. “Only reason our suite hasn’t been redecorated is because all the furniture is built in or bolted down.”

“Cruise ship,” you explain, when Darrel looks like he’s about to get a spinning cursor on his forehead trying to wrack his brain for the full context of Zach’s comment. “We’re working on a cruise ship.”

“Right.” Darrel laughs at himself, shaking his head. “I guess I had no idea they bolt down the furniture. But that makes sense.”

“It would make rough seas a bitch.” Zach admits. “Not showing up for work because you got knocked out when the boat rocked.”

“I can’t even imagine.” Darrel admits. He grabs the largest box from the trunk and tucks it up against himself carefully. Safely. “Furthest I’ve ever gone from home is Dallas or maybe Texarkana.”

Zach can’t relate. “I’ve been a lot of places.” He admits as he hefts the cooler up after taking it away from you. “Some I didn’t want to be and never wish to see again.”

“What branch?” Darrel knows that sentiment all too well from his old friends.

“Marines.” He knows that you broke up with Darrel before his tattoo, so he’s not bothered by the question. “Baghdad, Fallujah.”

Darrel shifts the box in his hands and offers one outstretched hand to Zach in all sincerity. “Thank you for your service.”

It’s surprising, so much so that he nearly drops the cooler instead of setting it down inside so he can take the man’s hand. It’s been a long time since he’s been thanked and probably the first time since coming back that he doesn’t mind it. “I’m not good at this kind of thing.” He admits sheepishly. “So, uh, yeah.”

“It’s not an easy thing to do.” Darrel acknowledges. “I lost my kid brother in Fallujah.” His eyes shift to you momentarily, knowing your parents would have told you when it happened, before he looks back at Zach. “Life is complicated. And not usually what you expect. But…it seems like things are looking out okay for you now.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Zach murmurs quietly. “I understand completely, even if they weren’t my brothers by blood, I miss every damn one of them everyday.”

You hang back, as surprised as either of the guys are for this encounter but trying to give the whole situation a chance to be less awkward. It seems like they might actually be on a path to civility, and you would love for this trip to end on a positive note. Darrel and Zach being on polite terms would be a hugely positive note.

“It was difficult, but we got his letter a few weeks later.” Darrel tells him quietly. “The guy who was with him when he died mailed it to us.”

“Robby was a good kid.” You offer, knowing that it would have been a strain on the entire family to lose their middle son. Your parents had talked about it like losing a pillar of the community.

“Robby???” Zach looks bewildered and slightly nauseas. “Robert Tyler Rodriguez?” He asks softly, praying that it’s not the same person.

Darrel pales instantly, freezing in his tracks as the puzzle pieces in his mind fall into place. He knew the name Wellison sounded familiar but he just thought maybe it was a client whose house he had worked on or the name of some long-forgotten classmate.

But no. The name Wellison had been printed in block letters on the letter that told his family that their bravest son was never coming home again. He wants to be angry. He wants to be furious. But all he can feel is the ring of hollow sadness in his chest that is left after losing his brother...and a thick feeling of something emotional that has him setting down the box on the stairs up to the side door of the church. "You're the one who sent us the letter," he says finally, when he remembers to speak again.

“Yes.” He had thought it was a fucking coincidence, plenty of people live in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Plenty of people have the last name Rodriguez. Robby had called his brother ‘Dee’. “You’re Dee.” He swallows harshly and wishes he was anywhere else but here. Ready for the onslaught of blame and accusations. After hand delivering Tommy Mansfield’s letter and accompany his body home, being slapped and screamed at for being the lone survivor, he couldn’t come to Robby’s home. Already sinking into a depression that nearly made him eat a bullet, he had just mailed the letter off with his own written note, saying he was sorry.

For the second time today, Darrel Rodriguez holds his hand out to the man who has everything he ever wanted for himself. And for the second time, there is nothing but sincerity behind the gesture. "Thank you for writing that letter," he intones, quiet and serious but no less true. "It couldn't have been easy. And we appreciated getting something other than a paper-pusher on our doorstep to tell us the news."

Zach frowns, staring down at the offered hand and then back up to Darrel’s somber eyes. He cautiously takes the hand again. “You don’t— blame me?” He asks, his voice low and almost disbelieving.

"I admit, it was tempting. The letter came and..." he shrugs slightly, shaking Zach's hand firmly once more. "Grief is sticky. But Robby–" His voice waivers for a second and he takes a breath. "My brother knew what he was signing up for, when he joined up. He knew the risks and the responsibilities. So while it might be cathartic, to wrap up all the blame and put it on your shoulders–" He glances at you and you know in your gut he isn't just talking about Robby, but Darrel goes on. "That wouldn't be fair. You're not responsible for the fate of the whole world. Other people make choices, too."

“I miss him every day.” Zach chokes out. “Like I know you must- only more so.” He would never compare his grief to losing his friends and brothers in arms to losing a true brother. “I still have nightmares about it. I miss them all so fucking much.”

"He wrote to us about his brothers." Darrel admits. Now that they're standing face to face, he has to admit the hand of fate has bashed in his door rather thoroughly. "It's– I didn't think I'd ever actually meet one of them. After everything. Well– you know."

“I’m the only one that survived.” A fact that he has tremendous guilt over every single day. Since getting back on his feet, meeting you, he has vowed to make sure that it’s a life well worth the sacrifice. He still doesn’t know why it was him that made it home, but he doesn’t hide away from it anymore.

“Well…” Darrel clears his throat gently and gestures to you. There’s more than a time of sadness in his voice but he still tries to mask it. “You had something important to come back for.”

Zach understands his meaning and gives him a solemn nod. “Yes I did.” He agrees.

If you're honest, this unexpected connection is something of a relief. Darrel isn't the enemy, after all. He was misled by your parents and has been gracious since meeting Zach. It's awkward, sure, but not ill intentioned. "I'm glad you guys got a chance to talk," you tell them, and are very happy to mean it.

“I owe you both an apology.” Darrel murmurs softly, glancing between the two of you. Zach shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything.” He promises, knowing that he can’t blame the man he has learned so much about from his younger brother. He had been told he was a good man, and he’s glad to learn that is true. He might have been a little overeager in his plans, but he was accepting the situation now.

"The people who owe an apology are my parents." And you will be insisting that they give it.

“Babe.” Zach shakes his head. “I don’t think they will think they’ve done anything wrong.”

The fact that he's right is frankly upsetting, but you'll wrangle with that later. On a day when you aren't looking forward to marrying your damn soulmate. Instead of pressing it, you nod a little. "My parents and I have a little work to do between us, I think. But that's...that's not something to dwell on today." It does impact the fact that you're essentially eloping, but again...that is a thought for a different day.

“No, today is for us.” He agrees, shuffling slightly and moving over to your side. “Are you ready?” He asks, the boxes donated and the air cleared between you and Darrel it seems.

"Absolutely." The one thing in this life that you're absolutely certain of is Zach. No hesitations. So the question of whether or not you are ready to marry him is unnecessary.

Zach takes your hand and starts to turn away. Not sure what else to say to Darrel, but the other man surprises everyone, even himself. “Do you want a witness?” He blurts out.

“What?” You turn around in confusion, certain you must have heard him wrong.

Instead of denying that he said anything, he straightens his shoulders and repeats himself. “Do you want a witness?” He asks again.

"I–" You glance over at Zach, who looks just as startled as you do. "I mean...it would be helpful..."

“Why would you want to do that?” Zach asks seriously. “I know you have deep feelings for her. It- it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Because—” Darrel pushes out the word and shoves his hands in his pockets. Zach is right. He does have deep feelings for you. He has for years. But pining doesn’t make him a bad guy. “All I ever wanted was for her — for you — to be happy.” He tells both of you. “You folks made it seem like you weren’t. You were still trying to find your way, and like you might come home any time. But you—” If he jams his fingers into his pockets anymore he’s gonna break a finger. “You obviously love your life. And your guy. And if I’m gonna claim that all I ever wanted was your happiness? Then I gotta step up and acknowledge that that means it might not be here with me.”

It’s a very eye-opening outlook and Zach knows immediately where Robby got his sunny, upbeat attitude. “Your brother and I promised we would stand up for each other when we found our soulmates.” He tells him. “I think- it’s….a way to honor him and I would be honored if you would. But it’s not just my decision.” He looks over at you. “What do you want, baby?”

A hell of a lot of thoughts are running through your head at the moment, if you’re honest with yourself, but not the least of them is relief. And some kind of gratitude. This whole issue with your parents can be put to bed with Darrel supporting your marriage, and he deserves to be able to move on after carrying a torch for you for so long. A part of you hopes that this could be that for him. And a way to honor his brother, to boot. “I think it would be nice to bury any grievances,” you admit, looking at both men. “And to have a witness that has a real connection to our pasts.”

“Let me say goodbye to the Reverend and I’ll be ready to go.” He frowns for a moment before looking down at his jeans and work jacket. “I’ll need to change though. Make sure that it’s understood that I support this.”

“Do you still keep a change in your truck?” You ask, figuring that would be easiest. “Windrixville isn’t far. I’ll check what time the chapel closes.”

“No, but I had just picked up my suit from the cleaners.” He chuckles, shaking his head at the irony. “Let me grab it and change. Although I’ll be in my work boots.”

“Doesn’t matter to us.” He could’ve just come along in jeans and it would be the gesture that mattered most. “Take your time.”

“I’ll be quick.” He nods towards both of you and disappears out the door to grab the plastic covered suit out of the back of the truck. It might not seem like the best idea to some, but he knows that it would send a clear message to your parents.

“Well…this stop turned out…unexpectedly.” You turn into Zach’s side and tilt your head to look up at him. “You okay, baby?”

“I never put it together.” He admits sheepishly, shaking his head. “Robby talked about his family a lot.” He murmurs. “I— I came so close to coming out here, but after the first time….” He trails off, knowing you would understand.

“It was still so fresh back then.” With one hand, you gently rub his back. “Grief settles over time. It doesn’t go away, but it’s less harsh. Less angry.”

“I wonder if that’s how we were supposed to meet?” He wonders softly. “He had invited me back to Oklahoma to visit when we came back on leave.”

“Oh…” The realization makes you sag a little. “Maybe. I did…back then I used to come home for thanksgiving every year.”

“He had told me that his family used to do a huge BBQ every year. Something about an entire cow.” He chuckles. “Said I would love it.”

"They do it every year." You nod and blow out a long, slow breath. "The day after Thanksgiving. This great big, day-long thing. People pop in and out all day as they come back from or leave to go Black Friday shopping. His Dad loves it, it's–" Instinct as you hugging Zach tighter, like you're hanging on to that past chance meeting that never happened. "We always used to go for the afternoon. My mom makes this mashed potato casserole that everybody always goes nuts for." It's how you would have met. Years ago. Zach would never have been through the terrors and the hardships of being alone with no place to go, and you wouldn't have been through your own bullshit out in New York. You would have been together.

“Isn’t it amazing how a few seemingly inconsequential decisions completely change the trajectory of your life?” He asks, knowing you are feeling the same.

"It's...weirdly discouraging and encouraging." The feeling is a little disorienting, if you're honest. "Knowing that things will always end up where they're supposed to, but that the journey might be pretty fucked up along the way."

He hums, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “We’ve had a rough road, but it’s getting better.” He admits. “Better now that we are together.”

******

The little chapel in Windrixville is built on the top of a hill where an old church burned down back in the 60s. The space around it is manicured now instead of just being a wide-open field, and soulmates who choose to get married here in a less formal ceremony have the chance to take a few pictures in the chapel's flower garden. Zach pulls the rental car into the mostly empty parking lot and Darrel's truck parks right on the other side.

"Are you ready to do this?" He asks after shutting off the engine. He knows that you are protected legally, the pre-nup already signed and filed, but he wants to make sure that this - done this way - is what you truly want.

"Absolutely." You take his hand and lean across the center console to give him a kiss. "I wanted to be married to you. To start that next step together."

“Are you sure you don’t want the entire big thing?” He asks, smiling softly.

"Do you?" It's worth making sure that he's not just doing this for you. That he isn't missing out on something he's dreamt of just because you don't care about skipping the expense.

“Baby, I have no family but you.” He reminds you softly. “All that matters is that you and I are together.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” You’ll remind him later on that he had so many people who love him as well as a kitchen full of staff who admire the hell out of him. For now, you have a wedding to focus on.

“What indeed?” He grins and notices that Darrel has climbed out of his truck and is standing in front of it, doing something on his phone.

"Everything good?" You ask, slipping out of the SUV and back into Zach's side. Darrel's face is drawn in concentration.

“Yeah.” He sighs and slips the phone into his front jacket pocket. “Ranch stuff.” He tells you. “My parents are talking about selling.” He’s been trying to change their minds, but the decision is ultimately theirs.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry." Your shoulders drop again, knowing that must be devastating for him. Darrel always loved the ranch so much.

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head. “This isn’t the time to worry about what might happen anyway.” He shoots you a smile. “Let’s go get you crazy kids hitched.”

The girl sitting at the reception desk inside the chapel smiles when three people walk in the front door, two of them obviously matching in nice clothes. "Well hey there." She chirps happily. "What can we do for you folks today?"

Zach walks up the counter with a nervous, yet eager, grin. “Uh, we want to get married.” He tells her, pointing between you and him.

"That's what we're here for." She smiles and starts shuffling through some unseen things at her desk. "Let me get the paperwork together. I'll need legal identification for both of you and I'll get the chapel ready. The justice will be down to see you in a moment." She waits just long enough for you and Zach to hand over your driver’s licenses, then thanks you and hustles off down a hallway that you hadn't noticed.

“Well that was pretty easy.” Zach murmurs, sure that there would be some kind of test or proof required that you are soulmates.

"I'm sure they'll want to see our marks. But that's easy enough."

“We can just show the initials .” He reaches for your hand and rubs his thumb over the webbing between your thumb and finger. It’s a calming pressure point for him and apparently for you too, he’s discovered. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Just that little measure of sweet steadiness from him has you feeling comfortable and confident again.

If there was even the slightest sliver of doubt that this man was your other half, part of your soul, it dies when you smile at your soulmate. Darrel realizes that he’s never seen that light in your eyes, at least never directed towards him. You are looking at Zach like he hung the moon in the sky, responsible for the stars sighing bright. You had always enjoyed looking up at the stars and you are looking at Zach with the same wonder. It clicks that door shut permanently inside his heart and relegates you towards the bittersweet first love you has always been and he had just not been able to accept.

The man who comes out to meet the new, happy couple asks a few questions and takes a peak at shared marks, all the while explaining how these short ceremonies work. “And you’ve brought a witness.” He looks very pleased at that. “Fantastic. Is there anything special you would like to include in your ceremony this evening?”

“Babe?” Zach turns towards you and lifts his brows. “Anything you want?” He knows next to nothing about weddings and what is expected, so he will leave it up to you. He’s just wanting to be your husband.

For a second you consider, knowing that the important part of today is just that you want to be married to your soulmate. “Do you have a version of your ceremony that talks about partnership instead of obedience?” You ask finally, deciding that while the old-fashioned wording is fine, what you and Zach have really is about being a team.

He smiles when you say that, nodding in agreement when the man discreetly looks over at Zach for his opinion on the issue. “Partnership.” He echoes. “That would be perfect.”

"Of course." The man nods politely and brings the three of you into in a large circular room that is mostly walled in glass. This ceremony room looks out over the garden surrounding the building and is lit with soft, romantic light as well as having some gentle music playing. It's not cheesy like you had expected one of these places to be, and you slip your hand into Zach's as you walk inside together.

This is actually pretty romantic, like it would actually be a venue a planned wedding would choose. He’s impressed and he smiles over at you. “Should have gotten you a bouquet of flowers.”

“It’s ironic,” you tell him, happily clinging to his arm. “We get each other flowers all the time. But don’t have any today.” Every opportunity to get a few fresh flowers on a land excursion always results in a bouquet in your room. It’s amusing that they’re missing today, when other people would consider them mandatory.

He chuckles in approval and nods. “It’s fitting.” He agrees. “The irony makes it even more so.”

The ceremony, for what it is, is short. The justice lays out a few pieces of paperwork and has you and Zach check the pertinent information that the receptionist filled in from your IDs, and then he asks Darrel to stand to the side of the small altar while he says a few words about togetherness, partnership, and commitment. It's actually a very nice speech, and one that you're glad that you saw a copy of amongst the papers on the altar with your soon-to-be signed marriage license.

It’s surreal, standing with you and Zach can’t concentrate on the words being spoken. Focusing on the way your eyes soften and melt as you look at him, obviously moved by what the justice is saying. He just knows that he is the luckiest man in the entire world right now, bonding himself to his perfect soulmate.

It’s like being wrapped up in a whirlwind, the way reality has become fuzzy around you, and all you can see is Zach. You both manage giddy, teary I do’s, and the pronouncement of: “You may more kiss your bride” makes your heart leap.

With the hand not holding yours, he reaches for your waist, pulling you close. “Until my dying breath.” He vows, nudging his nose against yours and then softly pressing his lips against yours in the sweetest kiss.

Three sets of hands applaud politely, while you are off somewhere on Cloud 9, and in the furthest part of your mind you can swear that you hear bridal music playing. None of it matters, though. Nothing beyond standing here being joined with Zach and being able to go forward into your future with him.

This is the bliss you never trusted yourself to dream about. Strive for. It’s right here in your hands.

******

Three hours later, Zach pulls into the driveway of your parent’s house, the blissful euphoria of getting married isn’t even dimmed by the upcoming confrontation. Another family dinner. One where Darrel has been invited again, this time by you and Zach. He shuts off the engine. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Ready.” Back in your regular clothes — and happily relaxed after celebrating your marriage back at the hotel room — you give his hand an encouraging squeeze and lean over the car’s console to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He’s not sure how they will react, but he’s sure it won’t be good. His fingers play with your new - handed down - wedding set.

In the time since the wedding you’d not only celebrated enthusiastically, but also stopped at a large fine jewelry store in the city to pick out a wedding band for Zach. He’ll probably choose to wear it on a chain while he’s working in order to stay safe and not have it get crushed with ingredients every week, but it was importance to both of you for him to have the simple gold band on his finger. “We’re in this together, babe,” you remind him, pushing open the car door and flashing him a grin. “Whatever happens, happens. They’ll probably be more upset about the inheritance than the marriage.”

“I hope not.” He frowns, shaking his head. “I know Ms. Flores said the will could be contested, but it would be foolish.”

“We’ll see what happens.” Honestly, your parents are more of a wildcard than you had ever expected, so tonight is a bit of a question mark as far as they are concerned. “We should go in.” The bottle of bubbly you picked up as a gesture of celebration is in one hand and you take his with the other, then head to the door.

As agreed, Darrel will be arriving in less than five minutes. To create a buffer, or distraction if it’s needed. Zach knows that your mom had an appointment with the attorney today and is surprised that you haven’t heard a word from them.

“Mom?” When you open the front door the house is silent, and you can’t think of anything more foreboding. “Dad?”

Maybe they are in the kitchen?” He asks softly, holding tight to your hand as you both step inside and he shuts it behind the two of you.

They aren’t. They aren’t on the back porch by the grill, and they aren’t in the living room.

Where your parents are, is upstairs in your bedroom. And the sight is as confusing as it is unexpected.

“Do you want me to give you a minute or stay?” He doesn’t know exactly what this means, but he sees the confusion marring your beautiful face when you see your parents in your childhood bedroom.

“No.” You shake your head and reach for his hand instead of letting him move away. “No. Whatever is going on, I want you with me.”

“Then I’ll stay right here.” He promises softly, frowning as he turns back towards your parents.

"I–um–" Despite being sure that this is going to be awkward, or perhaps because of it, you're not quite sure where to start as you step closer to your bedroom. "Hi, guys...? Are we not having dinner tonight?"

Your mother looks up, her head buried in an old photo album and she bites her lip. “You’re so grown up.” She shakes her head and looks down at the photos when you were probably three or four. “I can’t believe how much things have changed.”

"Yeah, it's..." You don't want to point out the obvious – that of course things have changed – since this might be an unexpected part of your mother grieving for her own mother's death, but it does strike you as odd. "It's been a long time since those were taken."

“You were such a happy little girl.” She murmurs, flipping the page and catching sight of a photo of you and your grandmother. Her breath catching on a small sob. “So close to her.”

"I miss her too, Mom." Yes...this is definitely an odd part of the grieving process. Your eyes turn up to meet Zach's and he nods, urging you forward to go into your room. He's close behind when you sit down on the bed next to your mother. "But she's with us every day as long as we take the time to remember her."

“I can’t believe it.” She murmurs softly. “I never really believed that she would be gone.”

"It's going to be hard to get used to." For once, you agree with your mother wholeheartedly.

Your father hums as he pats your mother’s back. “It will be better in time, dear.” He comforts her.

"Do you want to bring some of the photos downstairs?" You offer, wondering if they might have lost track of time and forgotten that you were coming for dinner tonight. "Zach and I can cook so you two can look through photos, if you like."

“Dinner?” She frowns for a moment and then her eyes widen. “Oh my god! I forgot about dinner!”

"It's totally okay, Mom," you promise her. Your hand is on her back now, too. Rubbing soothing circles. "Let us take care of it, okay? Darrel should be here any minute and we can all share stories. How does that sound?"

“Darrel?” She frowns and shakes her head. “You said— why would Darrel be coming? I didn’t invite him.” Her eyes beg you to believe her, knowing how upset you had been earlier when he had shown up that first day.

“I know you didn’t.” A gentle pat of your mother’s shoulder as you sit behind her doesn’t seem like quite enough, but she isn’t a very huggy person. That’s your father. “We invited him.”

“You did?” The confusion in her voice is clear, much like the frown on your father’s face. Both of them had been unhappy with the boundary you had set and now you seem to be throwing that all away.

“We ran into him earlier and had a good talk,” you explain. It’s time says the look in your eyes when you glance up at Zach, and his subtle nod is encouraging as he moves closer to your side. “A lot has happened today,” you tell your parents gently, trying to be kind to them in their grief.

“I know.” Your mother swallows harshly and looks away, fidgeting with a folded piece of paper that is under the bottom of the photo album. “We had the meeting with Mother’s lawyer today.”

"So did we." It's probably against some kind of disclosure policy for Ms. Flores to disclose to your parents that you spoke with her this morning, or what was spoken about, but just in case it's not you lean toward complete transparency. "Why don't we all go downstairs, Mom? We can talk about that after dinner."

She nods, not saying a words, not even sure if she has the words to say. It’s been a long day, filled with harsh truths that she’s been forced to confront.

"We'll take care of dinner," you offer again, and you and Zach lead the way back downstairs. The headlights of Darrel's truck are just shutting off in the driveway, and you're hoping that the distraction of another person here will help break some of the tension.

It’s rare that your mother doesn’t interject some opinion, but this time, she just nods. “Whatever you want to do.” She murmurs.

The best you can do is chalk it up to grief again, because normally she would be either insisting in doing things herself or giving you step by step instructions. “I’ll figure it what we have,” you offer to Zach. “Do you want to let Darrel in and maybe we can all talk in the kitchen while we make whatever dinner is going to be?”

“Come dear, let me make you some tea.” Your father hooks his arm around your mother’s waist and steers her towards the kitchen.

Zach kisses your forehead and goes to say hello to the man he never expected to be friendly with, and you lead your parents into the kitchen. While your mother sits down at the table and your father puts a kettle on, you take inventory in the refrigerator and in the cupboards. It seems like your mother intended to make pork chops and mashed potatoes casserole tonight, and you're relieved to find some frozen green beans. That's plenty enough food for five people to eat dinner. The few apples in the fruit drawer will make a delicious, quick applesauce.

It feels a little weird to be opening the door of his new in-law’s home as if he were the host, but he sees Darrel and grins in relief. A stark contrast from where he would have been just half a day before now. “Welcome.” He jokes.

"Normally it's Miss June at the door acting like the sun's just come out." He admits. They shake hands – not quite at the level of anything more yet – and nods toward the inside. "You tell 'em yet?"

“Not yet….” Zach admits and shakes his head. “Something’s going on, and it’s odd.”

"Odd?" Darrel tips his head.

“Miss June is….docile.” He huffs quietly, keeping his voice down so it doesn’t carry far. Darrel has spent time with your parents so maybe he can clue the two of you in on something you might not be aware of. “She was up in Bunny’s room, looking at a photo album and didn’t cook dinner.” He shrugs. “She’s letting us cook.”

“That’s…” Darrel frowns, shucking his jacket at the door. “Unlike her.”

“I know.” Even if he hasn’t spent much time with your mother, getting her to let him help with the funeral food had nearly been the beginning of world war three.

“Think it’s finally sinking in?” He asks, concerned because the unexpected nature of your grandmother’s death.

“Maybe?” Zach shrugs and reaches out to slap his shoulder. “Into the fray we go.”

When they come into the kitchen your parents are bent over cups of tea at the table and you’re starting to peel potatoes. “Hey Miss June, Tom.” Darrel steps into the kitchen and moves over towards your parents to hopefully ease the obvious tension in the room. Although it’s not a hostile tension, it’s morose.

“Good evening, Darrel honey.” June sniffles and draws herself up to her full sitting height. “It’s good to see you.”

“How are you doing?” Just because your parents had plans for your future and had also kept him hoping that that dream would become reality, he genuinely cares for the older couple. Leaning down, he hugs her and kisses her cheek.

“Oh, it’s been quite a day.” She returns the kind gesture half-heartedly. “How are you, dear?”

“I’m…good.” He realizes, shifting back and smiling at her. “I’m actually really good.”

"That's good." She nods vaguely, obviously still very distracted, and looks around the room again. "How did...I don't..." Your mother stops, pauses, takes a deep breath, and tries again. "How did this invitation come about?"

“We ran into each other at the church.” He doesn’t think that you’ve told them, so he doesn’t mention that you had invited him over to celebrate, and drive home the point that their wishes for you life were never going to happen.

"We brought over a donation to the food bank," you explain. Zach has already picked up a peeler and it helping you with the potatoes, but you turn around to face your parents at the counter. "We...have something to tell you guys." Everything in the kitchen stops for a moment, and Zach comes back to your side – dirty hand reaching for dirty hand in an odd sort of symbol of the promise you've made. No matter what, you're in this together.

"We went up to Windrixville a few hours ago." You brace yourself for the coming storm of disapproval. "To get married. Darrel came as our witness."

A pin drop could be heard if one fell. Zach, you and Darrel seem to collectively hold your breaths to see what their reaction would be. Your father looks like he was sucker punched in the gut and your mother immediately bursts into tears.

To be honest, it's better than you were expecting. There's no screaming, you aren't immediately being thrown out, and there is a distinct absence of guilting you about how you're dishonoring your family for reasons that make absolutely no sense. Still, it is a very big life event to have happen unexpectedly so you have to give them a little bit of grace.

“I did it Tom, she said I was going to do it and I did it.” She wails, jolting your father out of his frozen shock to turn and curl his arm around your mother.

“You didn’t—”

“I did!” She insists, pulling that same folded paper out of her pocket and shaking it as if it would explain everything. “Our daughter got married without us there because I’ve driven her away!”

"Mom, what is that?" Instantly, you're wiping your hands off and moving to your parents' side. The sting of the fact that it's true can be dealt with another time. There had been barely a thought paid to the fact that your parents would be there today. They have been so obviously against you and Zach as a couple – as soulmates – that you had simply figured that no matter where or when you got married, they would never want to be there.

Your mother can’t talk, too busy burying her face in your father’s shoulder as she sobs her heart out, but Tom gives you the answer you need. “Your grandmother left her a letter.” He murmurs quietly.

"She seems to have left them for all of us." The envelope is barely in your mother's grip and one nod from your father is enough permission to take it. Her name is scrawled across the front and there is just one sheet of paper inside, but it's easy to tell that your grandmother must have sat down and written all of these letters at once. Slightly morbid, if you're honest, but she was always very conscious of her own mortality after her friends started to get sick and begin dying.

Your father just hums and Zach shuffles behind you as he watches your mother continue to cry.

Junie, the letter begins, in your grandmother's distinctive handwriting. I hope very much that you never need to read this note. That I am simply able to tear it up and write you something new. But unfortunately you inherited my stubborness, and we both passed it on to Bunny. If things were a bit less dramatic right about now, you would roll your eyes at that, but this isn't the time.

I don't have any delicate ways to try to say this anymore, dear. Perhaps if I had been more direct with you these last few years, the situation would be different. But the fact is, my dear, you are losing your daughter. Your eyes widen, staring at the page, tears springing to your own eyes just the same as they are to your mother's. Had your Gram really been so on the nose with her about all this? It seems so...dramatic?

Punishing her for changing her major should have been where I put my foot down with the whole thing, but this nonsense with Darrel Curtis has to end. She is in love, Junie, and so excited about it. It's no good to play pretend anymore, and I'm sorry if it still hurts, but losing your soulmate doesn't mean that Bunny deserves to lose hers. Or that she will be just as happy with someone else, the way you have been with Tom. Darrel is a sweet boy, but he and Bunny want different things. It's as plain as the nose on my face.

Let her choose her own life, Junie. Let her be happy and just be happy for her. I know you don't get the same once a week phone calls that I do. I know that you don't get to be updated on her life the way I do. She is only going to drift further out of your grasp if you keep this up.

Zach can see the way you tense, covering your mouth with your hand and he moves over to your side. Sensing, rather than seeing the tears and wanting to comfort you, no matter why you might be crying.

“I just – I was trying to stop her from caring.” The broken explanation probably doesn’t make sense to anyone who hasn’t experienced loss, but your mother tries desperately to explain. “I love you, you know I do and I always will, but- but you know how it still aches to this very day.” Tom shushes her softly, nodding and murmuring quietly. “I know sweetheart. I know.”

“You had a soulmate?” For your entire life, you had always known your parents as the perfect unit. Both of them choosing to be together instead of having the universe choose them for each other. Your father’s mark is shared only with his twin brother — a rare instance of platonic soulmates — but you had lived your entire life thinking that your mother had never, ever born another person’s mark.

Darrel’s eyes widen, aware that this is a conversation that is between family and he is not family. “I’m going to go light the grill.” He offers quietly to Zach, reaching out and squeezing Tom’s shoulder as he moves by.

“Mom?” You feel like you’re shaking, barely registering Darrel leaving the room as you step closer and practically fall down into a chair. How long has she been lying to you? How much has she lied about?

She pulls away from Tom’s shoulder, eyes devastated and red. “I- I never knew how to talk about it, about him without-“ she chokes out a sob and covers her mouth as fresh tears pool. It takes her a moment, the steady and comforting hand of her husband around her shoulder as she swallows harshly and continues on. “Yes.” She whispers quietly. “I had a soulmate.”

“And…” You swallow back accusations and anger for the sake of seeing her so upset, but are grateful when Zach comes to sit down beside you. “He died?”

“Car accident. September 10th, 1979. Four twenty-five in the morning.” She sighs, closing her eyes as she starts to tell you the secrets that have been buried for years. “He was- older.” Even though she isn’t looking at you, she bows her head. “Dropped out of college already to make his dreams of being a rock star come true.”

The exact date and time. Shit. That, you know without hesitation, is exactly how you would be if anything happened to Zach.

But no wonder. No wonder she had freaked out when you changed your major to music after your first semester of college. “You were just a kid…” You realize a second later. September 1979…your mother was nineteen years old.

“Still, I knew that I wanted to be with him forever.” She looks over at Tom, a watery, apologetic smile on her face. “We met at his show. His band was performing at my college. It was…..instant. All consuming.” She swallows harshly and looks back at you. “Traveling musicians think they are invincible. He was coming back to see me.” Her chin wobbles and she presses her lips together to stop herself from crying again. “Late night, overly tired….” She closes her eyes again. “He fell asleep at the wheel.”

“I’m so sorry, Mom.” What else can you say? What could even come close to expressing how awful it is to hear that your teenage mother lost a man she loved dearly? The best you can do is reach for her hand and listen.

“His name was Marcus.” She knows you are upset at her, there is a tightness to your eyes. “He was 23.”

“And I’m guessing…” The breath you draw is sharp. Anguished in a way you can’t quite describe. “That I hit a nerve by deciding to pursue a music career.”

“I didn’t mean-“ she shakes her head. “I was so shocked when you choose music, even though I shouldn’t have been.” She sighs. “I was trying to ignore it.”

“You didn’t have to.” To banish the memory of an entire person sounds endlessly painful and complicated. It sounds like torture. “We could have talked about it. About him. The whole situation.”

“It—” she glances over at Tom. “It might have confused you. I didn’t want that.” The one hand held in yours squeezes. “I love your father.” She promises.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you assure her, giving her that gentle squeeze in return. “But what’s confusing about knowing that my mother has a big enough heart to have loved two people in her life?”

“I don’t know.” She murmurs softly. “We just agreed that you should just believe that your father and I didn’t have traditional soulmates.”

“What I don’t understand, though…” Well, there is a lot that you don’t understand, frankly, but the larger puzzle pieces are starting to come together. “Is why you would object to me finding Zach?”

“Your mother never wanted you to ever experience a tenth of that kind of pain.” Tom murmurs softly. “She was broken, and part of her heart has never healed.” He picks up the hand you aren’t holding and kisses it. “When she was carrying you, we talked about what we wanted and we just felt it was best. She was having nightmares, vivid ones.”

“Will you finally tell me how you met Dad?” The question jolts out of you like a lightning bolt, not meaning to be accusatory but hoping for some kind of clarification. Your parents had always said they were best friends and that was it. Nothing more was ever said and it has felt like a lie of omission for your whole life. Now you know why.

“We grew up next to each other.” Tom admits. “At least since third grade when I moved next door.”

June sighs softly, hoping you don’t hate her now. “Tom was over at the house when the officer came. They knew he was headed to my house because—” She swallows. “I was his wife.”

“Mom.” Your back hits the flat of the chair with a thud when you nearly fall backward while sitting up. “You were married to your soulmate?”

“I was still in college,” she is begging you to understand. “And there didn’t seem to be any need to wait. We were young, in love and destined to be together.”

“I’m not mad at you for being in love.” It seems important to clarify. To be particular about what has your stomach and chest all tied up in knots. “I don’t care how many people you’ve lived or how many you married. I’m upset because you hid an entire life from me and pretended you had never done anything other than the perfect thing. It’s made me feel like a fuck up for my entire adult life.”

“Oh sweetheart.” She wilts at your confession. “I wanted you to think things were perfect so if you chose to be with Darrel, you wouldn’t feel like you were wrong.” She reaches out and caresses your face, letting go of Tom’s hand. “You are probably the one thing in my life I got right.”

“The problem wasn’t that you liked me being with Darrel. It’s that you never let it go.” You’re both crying not, hot tears of anxiety, fear, and anguish staining both of your faces. “To the point where the poor guy sat on his hands waiting for me to come home and never got to go live his own life, and I felt like if I invited you to my wedding you would have hated me for it.” Sniffling through the tears, it’s only Zach’s steady hand on your back that keeps you from accelerating past upset and into angry.

“I am so sorry.” She swallows harshly. “I should have let it go a long time ago. I should have been happy that you were happy. Instead, I ruined it for you.” She shakes her head. “I blame myself for him dying and I got so worried about you feeling that pain that I caused a very different kind of pain for you.”

“Seems like Gram was the only one who knew the whole story.” The long, low exhale you let out just makes you feel tired. Exhausted, really. Another layer of missing your grandmother seems to settle on top of you in the most unpleasant way. “No more secrets.”

“No more secrets.” She agrees, wiping away her tears. “So you are married?” She asks, looking between you and Zach. He nods and she gives a watery smile. “Then we need to celebrate.” She decides. “What do you think? We could order in?”

“Darrel went out to light the grill.” You nod almost dumbly to the porch, where your ex is trying very hard not to watch everything going on inside. “We should get him back in if we’re not going to cook.”

“You shouldn’t do anything on your wedding day.”

“We don’t mind,” you insist, but that stubbornness that all the women in your family share is right there in her eyes. “Alright…” you glance back at Zach and he nods. “We’ll order in. And we’ll talk. All of us.”

“Why don’t I call Redrock Canyon Grill?” Tom offers, patting your mother’s knee and standing up. “They have some good food, Zach. There’s talk of getting a Michelin star.”

“Sounds like it would be perfect.” Zach agrees. His hand has been rubbing soothing circles on your back and doesn’t let up, letting you know that he is here and supporting you but letting you have whatever conversation you need to have with your mother.

“Good.” Your father nods, only stepping away to open the sliding door and beckon Darrel back inside. The night’s plan has changed yet again, but he can hope that there might be fewer tears from here on out.

“I know you must have questions.” Your mother offers quietly, hoping that by answering them, she can repair some of the damage she has done. Repair your relationship. “But I also want to know about your wedding.”

“We went to the soulmate chapel in Windrixville.” It’s something to smile about, thankfully, and tries to put some distance between tears and potentially being upset with each other. “Gram…she left Zach a letter, too. Along with a gift.” You hold out your hand tentatively, wondering if she’ll be upset. “She was going to send him a few of the rings I liked best when I was a kid. She wanted him to choose one to propose with.”

“She did?” She takes your hand and looks down at the ring set on your hand, running her finger over the ring. “I always liked this set.” She looks back up at you and smiles. “He picked beautifully.”

"It's Zach's birthstone." A fact which still feels quite close to your heart. Like it was the perfect reason to choose it. "The wedding was just simple. A few kind words about partnership and support." It does, however, bring a smile to your lips to think about again. "I have the paperwork in my purse. And the receptionist sent us the video of the ceremony already. If–if you want to see it?"

Her eyes light up, a wonderful hope shining in them. “Please? I would love to—” she cuts herself off and starts over. “I would be honored if you shared it with me.” She admits. “I— I’m sorry that you felt that you had to go to the soulmate chapel.”

"We wanted to be married, not to have a giant wedding," you tell your mother honestly. "That's all. We had talked before now about having the captain on the ship marry us."

“You wanted a small wedding.” She’s repeating it like she’s burning that fact into her brain and trying to offer suggestions to ‘fix’ what is not broken. “Then you got what you wanted, sweetheart.” She agrees.

"Like Gram and Grandpa getting married at the courthouse. Just something simple." The video will keep until the guys come back from getting dinner ordered. At your father's request, Zach had joined them to look over the menu.

“As long as you were happy with it.” She promises. “That’s all that matters.”

"I am." Like a peace settling over a tumultuous evening, that truth blankets anything else that might get in the way. "I really am."

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

ItSotN: @greenwitchfromthewoods @copperhalfcent @ariavitiellos @spishsstuff @76bookworm76

[losergender]

the more i read the faster the torture will end (yes im aware im choosing to do this and can stop when i want to)

okay back to titan attacks

"the truth of my life was becoming depressingly obvious: people didn't like me" alexis i know i said that i feel bad for you and stuff but you are also so unlikeable my dear. you never talk to anyone and your only 2 interests are mathematicians and classical music and you don't even bring them up when talking to people

stop guys she's wearing a black hoodie with a skull holding up a middle finger in the front

alexis this is why people dislike you.

alexis is on the pink press everyone

she keeps saying fluck instead of fuck

"the great war killing all our race was really bad for friendship" miss,,, miss do you hear yourself,,,

the one thing that annoys me the most about this book is that alexis cannot go two sentences without mentioning how she is suicidal and how she wants to die and straight up off herself and how despite having so many chances at it she never does it (WHICH IS COOL. DONT KILL YOURSELF PEOPLE) but she also never gives any explanation as to why not? like there was one chapter that in which she was at corfu w patrochilles and she was like "the best thing i could do was drown myself." cut to 3 paragraphs later, she's swimming with her pet because "she loves swimming." she's going through physical torture in the military thing they're at? "i wish i would die" "it's easier to die" "i'm gonna kms" "the moment i got a sec i was gonna kms." she gets close to death once and she's like "thank god i didn't die." which is a thing that happens. many people myself included who have experimented a near-death experience or real fear of death after/during suicidal ideation will come to a realization that maybe they didn't want to die and the cognitive disonance of "i wish i could kms but i dont want to die" is, i feel, a not all that widely explored topic in YA fantasy. and i think it's interesting, and it opens so many doors in terms of character development, and it could have make this book so, so much better. and instead not only is the chance not taken, but also, it turns sucide into a joke for 36 chapter and it makes is so that any mention of actual risk of death/suicide goes as a joke even if its serious.

(bonus points -> she has two very clear reasons as to why she can't die. one is that she's technically immortal which i dont really get bc shes meant to be in military school as a trial to see if she deserves immortality but also she and her classmates can already not be killed. except for the fact that. they can because 3 of them died. so whats the point idk. and i can only imagine how distressful it would be for someone who has suffered so much and is actively facing torture every day of their life that and who is suicidal to be suddenly told that she is never gonna die. and she doesn't mention that whole dilemma AT ALL. then, theres the fact that her little brother doesn't know where she's been the past months and he's still facing homelessness, this time by himself yes i still think he's dead. see, she brings up charlie like once every 3 chapters when she remembers to which i guess is a good amount. the idea of charlie is there either to make her feel guilty (when she has the wet dream) or to motivate her, because she wants to go back to him. BUT IT IS NEVER THERE TO MOTIVATE HER OUT OF HER SUICIDAL IDEATION? WHICH,,, AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO FINDS THIS A BIT RANDOM? like how come charlie is good motivation when you are being forced to run after weeks of starvation but he is never once mentioned when you are wishing you would kill yourself? why is it "i gotta survive this for charlie" and then immediately after "i should kms" and no mention of charlie? like it feels so,, idk. whatever. sure.)

back to reading

speechless

"at this point, i didn't care if carl gauss thought i wasn't accomplished in the after life (i cared). carl can suck on my... stuff."

YOU HAVE A NICE GUY GREETING YOU WITH A SMILE AND BEING FRIENDLY TO YOU IN SPITE OF THE FACT YOU HAVEN'T TALKED TO ANYONE BUT 1 GUY IN MONTHS, IN SPITE OF THE FACT NO ONE WANTS TO KNOW SHIT ABOUT YOU, IN SPITE OF THE FACT YOU'VE BEEN COMPLAINING ALL CHAPTER ABOUT HOW PEOPLE DISLIKE YOU?? AND YOUR REASON IS THAT HE IS TOO GRATEFUL AND CHEERFUL?? ALEXIS IM TRYING TO BE NICE TO YOU BUT MY GIRL I CANT

a titan just attacked in the chapter called titan attacks who's surprised

"ice covered" you're in a greek island in autumn why is there snow.

okay so. the titan attacked while they were running (they've a circuit they have to do often around the island) and most students went to hide but she stayed behind to help one who had fallen (and who now is dead) and then she started to attack the titan herself with a stone and stuff until kharon (the predator) came to finish him off. and now. i think he's gonna kiss her. which. to quote finn mertens, i nono wanna.

btw in case anyone's lost, there's two guys pursuing alexis, kharon (the predator) and augustus (the evil teacher slash pokemon sword guy) (and theyre lovers)

alexis youre stupid

c-ptsd flashback okay

oh and now kharon mister "she's prey",, mister "i'm gonna kill her", mister "i'll be your sworn enemy", miser "i wanna torture you" is like "nooo alexis :( i didnt mean to trigger you by threatening to beat you up"

"can i touch you" BROTHER YOU WERE HOLDING HER BY THE JAW SECONDS AGO AND HAVE BEEN TOUCHING YOURSELF TO HER FOR AGES. WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN 1 MINTE AGO AND NOW FOR YOU TO LEARN CONSENT

augustus' whole thing is that he's overprotective of women to the point he wants to control every single one of their actions and he's so controlling of alexis that he threatens to torture/actually tortures everyone who touches her including doctors im gonna scream

also can i just say they go through all this intensive physical training just for their weapons of choice to be. Guns.

welcome to sunny reacting to stuff in which sunny reacts to stuff. in this tumblr post, we're dealing with blood of hercules (the i'm a girl and as it turns out i'm hercules book) because i'm doing So Bad Mentally that i am in dire need of something that will make me laugh.

chapter 1 reaction below

montana?? out of all states?? okay go off

"kids at school called it apocalytic core. i called it hell" already laughing. i love my life decisions.

SUPERSEED I'M SORRY WHAT?

"if you wanted to live (i didn't)" you and me both bestie

does the author know verb tenses

i'm saying so little bc otherwise the post would be huge. every single sentence is hilariously bad this is so silly

summary if anyone is interested -> pretty unclear dystopian setting, 10-yo befriends an echidna named nyx and then gets a foster brother delivered to her room the next day. the titans are like superhumans killing normal people and the "spartans" are 12 protector families (8 are olympian, 4 are cthonic and those are dangerous murderers or something).

[pocketneophyte]

Day 16 Snicketober catch up:

uhhh UHHH UHHHH favourite ship is (SORRY) sugarbowl gen era olaf and kit <\3333333333

never would I want them to actually be together but the implied angst / tragedy / betrayal just adds so much GRAHH feelings to the characters we see in asoue

Prompt by @free-my-boy-grumbot , ref photo under the cut!

[itspileofgoodthings]

Well, I actually have the most mundane of questions, but it’s been so long since I’ve been in an English class that I feel like I’ve completely forgotten (and I’m curious how you do it): how do you go about reading a book as a class? Do you assign them the chapters to read at home and most of them actually do it? Or do you give them class time to read? Do you have the kids who try to spoil the rest of the book for the class? Basically, how does one teach a book in the year 2024?  😀

And do you have your students annotate inside their books? (I know the English teachers in my school require the students to do that, and I get why, but I inwardly shudder every time I see a student marking up a page.) 

Haha I love this question because I too am always asking myself how DOES one teach a book in 2024?

It’s sort of a combination. I absolutely assign reading every night (almost) unless it’s Shakespeare or any play in which case we read it all in class. But for a novel there’s a couple chapters a night. I read aloud to them a lot too. Sometjmes I make them read aloud to the whole class, rotating kids who read. Sometimes I assign a chapter to be read in class silently with questions or quotes due at the end of the reading. Sometimes I put them in groups and make them read aloud to each other. There’s no one way that works for sure and of course ultimately I have no control over how much they read and I’m not naive enough to think that most of the reading assigned for homework doesn’t get skipped most of the time buuuuuut.

My bottom line is that I believe it’s my job to get excited about the actual text itself (easier for me in some cases than others but overall pretty easy because it does fill me with excitement) and then commit to taking them on the journey of the story with me. And my goal—that I’m sure I often don’t reach—is to make that experience so much more fun if you have actually read. And the way that I teach is pretty text heavy which is why I always make sure I’ve read the chapters for the day and am not just relying on my memory because the way I do it is just sort of absorbing it all up like a vacuum-cleaner, schwooooop, and then either pulling stuff out of the reading to look at directly or directing them to do the same thing. So the big thing that I have going for me, if any, is buy-in. Is getting kids excited about actually reading the actual text. I also speak often and passionately about the evils of sparknotes etc. not because they help kids get better grades or whatever but because they present you with the husk and shell of a story, stripped of all that makes it interesting, and that by reading that alone they’re reading something so dry and dull and are not achieving what I always want them to achieve —which is, have an Experience with the Literature.

Again, it never works perfectly by any stretch and there are so many ways I want to explore in my quest to get better at it but overall I think, at my very best, I can create this wave of energy and excitement in the story itself which is the most organic and ultimately most helpful way to get them to want to read.

Also no haha. I don’t let them annotate! Though occasionally kids DO of course. But sometimes they bring in their own copies in order to do that. The spoilers absolutely happen and are annoying but I sort of get by it by moving on very quickly and/or talking about how it’s often not the ending but how you get there that makes it interesting. Because that’s just true!

[electricpurrs]

i need to consume a piece of media that will emotionally impact me forever. i need to watch a movie or play a game that will leave me crying and sobbing desperately. i need something that i will think about forever. i need something that i will be able to say "means a lot to me", something that will influence my life permanently, something that will make me think about things and make me better as a person. i need undertale 2

[thefaestolemyname]

I've always hated existentialism - coping with a meaningless world by creating your own meaning would mean the world wasn't meaningless in the first place.

But I get it now.

Not just because I realize now that's a gross oversimplification and have a bit more understanding on what existentialism really professes,

But I understand.

The fear of death and the acute sense of a lack of purpose or value in life.

And in that paradoxical, crushing, empty feeling, realising that in the face of such a callous and tragic existence, love is as real as ever, and so worth doing.

[laurellala-comics]

What if the characters in Ace Attorney all texted each other. Because they're friends. <3

(My alt text descriptions were a little long so I've added the individual text exchanges below, btw if there's any way I can improve my alt text please let me know!)

[id: drawing one shows text history between Maya Fey and Phoenix Wright on Nick's phone, starting with older texts at the top

Maya: ramen? (Nick has given this a thumbs up)

now we see texts from today at 11:37

Maya: Burgers?

Nick: sorry, not today, big case :(

Maya: Aww Nick

Maya: I'll pick it up and bring it over!

Maya: ... can i use your credit card (she punctuates the sentence with a big smiling face emoji) /end id]

[id: drawing two shows text history between Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth on Miles's phone, starting with older texts at the top

Edgeworth: This was a riveting article, I thought it might interest you.

now we see texts from today

Nick sends a screenshot of a twitter post that reads: Lawyers help people get through the worst day of their life. They're good at it because they have experience getting through their own worst day, which just so happens to be every waking day of their existence

Miles: Ha.

Nick: Just one "ha"?

Miles: Not your best work.

Nick sends a frowny face :( /end id]

[id: drawing three shows text history between Miles Edgeworth and Maya Fey on Maya's phone. The text bubbles from Maya here are green as a result of her, an iPhone user texting Miles, a google pixel user. Maya has also sprinkled several emojis into Miles's contact name, the libra scales, the angry face emoji, the shouting emoji, and the clashing swords emoji. They're mid conversation and Miles has sent a text bubble so big we can't read the whole thing.

Miles: -completely unnecessary. Doing a Steel Samurai reboot so soon after the series ended is a foolish decision, everyone will be directly comparing the two from the moment the first episode drops. I don't believe they even have a fresh direction for the show, the only difference will be the cgi. God forbid we rock the boat and follow a new character! It's abundantly clear to me that the studio executives are cowards.

Maya: Oh my gosh, and did you see the new outfits? Maya includes a sobbing emoji

Miles: Oh, don't get me started.

we see three dots at the bottom of the screen indicating that Miles is still typing. /end id]

[alienssstufff]

This Should've Been an Email

His mouth moved without it telling it to, then closed like whoever was possessing him didn’t know what to say either. There was something going on, something Etho could feel but didn’t understand. They were standing on the edge of the world, and Etho didn’t know how to tell Bdubs he was out of time. Was he out of time? Maybe he was just going insane again. Maybe-

“Etho, there’s a lot of void energy going on right now, can you focus-”

You can’t outsmart a god. You can only run.

-

[ READ HERE ] Latest addition to the Should've Could've Would've series and sequel to the YCAOverse byyyy incredible great @goingdownorup cinemaaaa is HERE and we are BACK IN THE BUILDING!!!

[rambling undercut]

you've fallen for my trap card, ramblings not about the actual fic yet sorry - I'm going to talk about art technicalities at you now :]

Ver without the text:

I drew this up on a whim immediately after finishing the first chapter. Other than it being fanart, this year I want to think smarter when making elaborate pieces - this being the one of the first experiments on it.

sketches have always been my starting foundation I usually go through a few iterations gradually building off the rough thumbnail all the way to lineart. Here I'm establishing perspective and rhythm (movement), using background and props to better frame the emphasis (focal) rather than overwhelm the eye with unnecessary detail.

Shirahama's Witch Hat Atelier manga panels were an inspiration for the lineart (reoccuring character. WHA changed my life)

I even started actually putting base colours instead of skipping to shading... BASE COLOURS. BASE COLOURS WITHOUT SHADING? Crazy world we live in. Above were me testing which colours worked best for the background and purpose. Ethubs look a little out of place atm - this changes in solid filters

Shading itself was a lot of back and forth in constant fumbles to maintain the rhythm instructed in the lineart, adding emphasis how values needed to carry the visual communication of this piece especially with a line heavy background because of the wheatfields. Everything uses either cel shading, filters, or gradients - I wanted to find a way to add complexity to my regular rendering style without needing to manually blend/paint (takes too long)

During this stage, Heikala's watercolour art was the study in crowd control (backgrounds with organic repetition)

Smaller misc details that couldn't fit anywhere in the previous pages. Overall while there are some things I still would change/redo, overall very pleased as a first (second) attempt ^_^

[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.”

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

So I’m a minor (16 to be specific) and I frequently watch and read stuff with explicit sexual or 18+ content in it. I live in an extremely conservative Christian household and things like explicit fanfic are pretty much the only option I have for learning about sex that isn’t abstinence only. I do feel bad about it, especially when I see adults online say stuff like “oh i watched lots of inappropriate things as a teen that i really shouldn’t have” and it makes me feel like I’m ruining myself in a way that I won’t realize until I’m an adult? Right now I don’t see what the big deal is but i get the feeling that when i’m 24 or something I’ll wake up one day and be ashamed of this for some reason i’m not mature enough to know yet. Should I just stop and wait until I’m 18 to continue or what?

hi anon,

okay. I'm gonna hit you with something:

turning 18 does not actually change the way you feel about porn or sex or anything. the difference between being seventeen and 364 days and being 18 is nonexistent. there's not a magical switch that changes you as a person; that comes from lived experience. if you're 18 and your experience is still that porn and smut and what have you i something that you should feel bad about, it's still going to feel that way and a birthday won't change that.

look, the whole notion of "I saw [x] that I shouldn't have when I was young" is like. okay. so you saw something that was a little mature for you that you didn't quite get? awesome. did you die? no. most people's hangups about sexuality don't come from seeing a rogue titty when they were a teenager, they come from the culture that person was raised in that made seeing a rogue titty feel like something to be ashamed of instead of a completely natural part of life.

story time! when I teach my 4th-6th grade OWL classes (Our Whole Lives, great human development program) I always start by holding a meeting with the kids' parents. I've been doing this for seven years, and every time without fail some of the parents will recall seeing porn for the first time as a kid. these guys were kids when printed porn magazines were still a thing, so they were discovering them in all kinds of places - the bedrooms of their parents or their friends' parents, at bus stops, in the woods, once even stowed in some farm equipment. and they remember it feeling illicit and exciting, sure, and possibly making them confused or even horny for the first time in their young lives, but like... that's it. none of these people are irreparably damaged by seeing porn. in fact, they've grown up to be the kind of people who go out of their way to make sure their young kids are enrolled in a queer-friendly, body-positive, diversity-embracing sex ed class to counter stereotypes and misinformation they might receive elsewhere.

looking at things that arouse you is morally neutral. it can be a great way to help you learn about what turns you on, and even if it's not the best source of factual, realistic depictions of sex, it can still help you discover things - hell, I only figured out what the clitoris was by reading Young Justice fanfic (shout out Snaibsel).

you can't ruin yourself, at any age, with the media you like to consume. what makes you uncomfortable and anxious is the attitude you've been taught to have about that media, which is something that has to be actively unlearned, because it's certainly not going to just disappear on its own when you become a legal adult.

tl;dr obviously no one is making you watch porn and you shouldn't if it makes you uncomfortable, but if you drop it right now and come back when you're 18 don't expect to feel any different if you haven't done any more unpacking re: the conservative Christianity of it all.

[simpjaes]

Untitled - p.js | p.sh

requested by anon: In which Jay and Sunghoon share a fleshlight. if you like the idea of two hot guys being into you and into each other, this is for u. 

pairing: sunghoon x jay x fleshlight

wc: 1.3k 

warnings/tags: jay is very desperate, bisexual behavior, masturbating, sunghoon jerks jay off. this is very much homoerotic. 

A/N: if you don’t want to read about dude’s being into each other then don’t read it. None of this is real. No, i don’t actually think these members are into each other or dating. Use ur imagination, have some fucking fun. 

What started as Sunghoon’s fleshlight ended as the community fuckhole. And by community, he means himself and, well, Jay. 

It’s funny, really, how Jay never used to want to hang out until Sunghoon started fucking around with you. Then again, Jay is very aware of Sunghoon’s sex life and how open he is to sharing it. He heard that one time he even let Heeseung join him during a hook up. Another time Jake swears he got to give Sunghoon’s last fuck buddy backshots while he got to fuck her mouth. 

All of Sunghoon’s friends. All of them but Jay, apparently.

Now, has Jay ever actually participated in group activities like that? No. Does Jay even have that much experience with a girl? No. But he knows how to fuck his fist real good, and apparently Sunghoon’s pocket pussy too. 

It really wasn’t meant to go this far, Jay admits. When he came over to Sunghoon’s place and the dude was too busy actually studying, he spotted a certain item right there on the fucking coffee table in the living room.

“Make yourself at home, as usual.” Sunghoon had said to him upon arriving.

And that’s just what Jay did. What’s Sunghoon’s is his, and so was that fucking pocket pussy sitting there staring at him as he tried to flip through various streaming apps. 

It sat there for an hour, two hours…two hours and three minutes before he grabbed it. He didn’t care if it was dirty, didn’t care who or what used it before him, and didn’t question even for a second that Sunghoon would catch him with his legs wide open, fucking up into it right there on his living room couch.

Well, he should have questioned it. Because Sunghoon did take a break from studying. Mostly because he heard the squelching of wet silicone and Jay trying to hold his breath only to choke back each little sound even louder. The walls are thin in Sunghoon’s apartment, Jay knows this. 

“Clean that when you’re done.” Sunghoon had rolled his eyes as he walked by towards his kitchen “And at least turn on some porn or something dude, I can’t focus listening to you try and act like you’re not in here fucking my stuff.”

Jay was already gone by that point, fumbling with the remote until it ultimately falls on the floor with an unpleasant sound. 

Sunghoon had rolled his eyes again, casually strolling into his living room with a snack and taking a quick glance at Jay. The way he stretches that thing out is…interesting. Then, he does his friend a solid and turns on his favorite video as of late. A good ol’ two men one girl, raunchy, dirty ass video. And then he walks away, back to his bedroom and goes right back to studying. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The second, third, fourth, and fifth time Jay came over to fuck Sunghoon’s toy involved much of the same. Where Sunghoon would find reasons to walk into the room and put on a video he gets off to, just to see if Jay likes it. By that last fifth time, Sunghoon actually took it upon himself to put a video up where he stars in it with his last fuckbuddy. 

He could tell Jay enjoyed himself, unknowing that it was his own best friend fucking into that pussy on screen. His face wasn’t in it, but he can imagine if it was, Jay wouldn’t have stopped.

Things are never awkward either. Even with Jay sitting on the couch still out of breath, standing up to diligently clean the toy for Sunghoon as he comes to sit next to him. It’s all bro talk after that, as if nothing ever happened. Every. Single. Time.

What Jay doesn’t know is that Sunghoon is very much into it. To the point he uses the toy himself immediately after his friend leaves if no fuck buddy is available. To the point he doesn’t clean his own toy just because he knows Jay will come back again and fuck himself against whatever mess he leaves for him. 

What Jay also doesn’t know is that, now, as he sits on the couch as if it’s routine, even though Sunghoon’s finals are over, he’s gonna have to keep that confidence up to use the toy because this is Sunghoon’s apartment, and this is his living room, his tv, his porn, and his pocket pussy.

Jay doesn’t seem awkward though, no. It’s like he’s gotten used to this room being where he gets off because when he walks in, he’s already hard. Sunghoon is quiet when he watches his friend walk straight to the living room and grab the toy. 

He’s silent when he follows after him, feeling a twitch in his own pants.

He’s silent when he sits down on the other end of the couch, grabbing the remote and immediately playing a video that does show his face, with his most recent fuck buddy. You.

Jay’s eyes stare at the screen before glancing to Sunghoon.

“No way.” He says in a breath, unbuttoning his pants and instantly pulling it out. “When did you take this one?”

Sunghoon glances over, realizing Jay may very well have known about the last video being him as well. A pleasant surprise. 

“Last weekend, after you left.” Sunghoon admits. 

Jay seems out of it now, eyes focused on the screen and reacting in small grunts each time Sunghoon does something rough and solid to you. He’s wanted you so bad for so long. Is this what Jake and Heeseung went through to finally be invited into the bedroom? Fuck, he doesn’t care.

It’s almost surprising how quick Jay is with his hips as Sunghoon notes the way he moves. No embarrassment from having eyes on him, no longer quiet, and certainly not super experienced. But damn does he have a cock so thick that Sunghoon is sure you’d have fun with both of them.

“Want me to call her?” Sunghoon smirks, casually groping himself and pressing down. Holding back his own groan. 

“Right now?” Jay doesn’t even turn to look at him, he’s hyper-fixated on the video, ears ringing, unknowing of how loud that pocket pussy is each time he fucks into it. 

“Yeah, you want her?” Sunghoon continues, encouraging him. “Bet she’d feel a lot tighter considering how you’ve basically fucked that toy to death by now.” 

All Jay can do is throw his head back, halting his movements to keep from cumming at the thought alone before groaning out a “Yes, fuck, please. call her.”

Sunghoon laughs, scooting closer and grabbing the toy. Essentially taking over for him. Not letting him stop.

“Can’t.” He chuckles. “She’s out of town–” He continues, moving the toy faster, faster, faster until Jay’s practically gripping the couch under him and whining. “She bounces fast though.” 

Sunghoon moves even faster. 

“Hard.” 

He squeezes the base of the pocket pussy, offering more pressure.

“Likes when you cum in her too.” He whispers now, right up against him. “You wouldn’t last a second inside of her.” 

And, well. Jay cums right then and there. 

He’d normally pull away but his vision goes blurry through the orgasm, thinking too hard about how you’d feel bouncing on him, to the point it’s almost like Sunghoon didn’t even exist. Did he cling to Sunghoon through it because of that? 

….Maybe.

Sunghoon is satisfied though, seeing how his friend comes undone by his hand alone all in the name of you. Now, it’s his turn and he takes it as quickly as he gave it to Jay.

He pops the toy up and off of his friend, barely glancing at the way Jay’s cock leaks, throbs, and falls right against his shirt before he’s pulling his own cock out and sliding it down instantly.

Pre lubed, warm, perfect.

All Jay can do at that moment is fight to keep his eyes on the screen. He remembers briefly Jake saying at one point, “I don’t know what it is about Sunghoon bro but…he can be really sexy and i don’t even like dudes.”

The good news: Jay likes dudes. Sunghoon is a dude. And he’s got a hot fuck buddy.

“Can I fuck her too?” Jay finally whispers out, his voice croaking as he tries to level his voice. 

“Yeah.” Sunghoon groans. “Bet she'd love that.”

[teaboot]

do you think i'll ever get to a place in my life where i'm actually a good person and i don't keep getting bombarded with people telling me all the ways i'm doing things wrong. will i ever stop feeling like i'm faking being good and i'm actually a despicable person deep down inside like there's something rotten and irremovable in the very core of me. i feel sick

As a recovering self-hater I have a few things that have been helping

Truly shitty people are typically, in my experience, not chronically preoccupied with anxieties that they need to be better. It seems to be the 100% rock-solid certainty that everything you ever do is selfless that you need to watch out for.

Motive only matters in court. If you donate 30 hours a week to charity so you can tell yourself you're a good person or you donate that same time because you genuinely enjoy helping people, that's still 30 hours, imo. At that point the argument is more philosophical than anything. The help is still happening.

Nobody can read your mind. You can be the bitterest, cattiest, most judgemental and mean-spirited motherfucker alive, but as long as you don't let your feelings hurt others, you're golden. In fact, I personally think you should get extra credit for effort. Swimming upriver ain't easy

None of us are selfless by nature. That's okay. We all crave attention, and validation, and comfort, and reward. That self-interest is a survival skill. It's not going anywhere and I don't think it should. The key is moderation, self control, and consideration for others.

The loudest voice in your head probably isn't yours. Survivors of all kinds of abuse- and all abuse is psychological to varying extremes- often keep their critic's narrative in their head. That voice that says you're awful- is that something you'd say to someone else? No? Then try to figure out who said it to you. They were probably an asshole. The voice that answers it it probably your own. Listen to that one

No, you will not feel like this forever. It's a pain in the ass, but dedicating time and thought into ignoring that inner critic and elevating your positive impulses is effective.

Some things I've done myself that seem to help:

Do some research on cognitive behavioral therapy and cognitive reprogramming. These are easier to exercise with a therapist but once you figure out the steps to follow you can do them on your own, too.

When you do something good, write it down for yourself. Keep a dated journal, either on paper or in your phone. When you find yourself in a pit of self-loathing, you can go back and remind yourself of all the good you've done. If this is hard, try listing 3 good things you did at the end of each day. Anything from picking up a scrap of litter to running a food drive.

Long post, but really, the best thing I can say is this:

Aything that takes effort is worth celebrating, even if that effort is minimal or that task is considered small.

At the end of the day, "bare minimum" isn't working a full-time job and eating three meals a day, cleaning up after yourself and doing it with a smile- bare minimum is nothing. Bare minimum is laying on the floor motionless for 24 hours and filter-feeding like a sea sponge. And if even that's difficult for you, then it's not your bare minimum, is it?

There's a lot of cruel, inconsiderate, uncaring people in the world, only out for themselves at the expense of others, and even if you think you're one of them, giving a shit about doing better still puts you a mile ahead of most.

Try not to worry too terribly. If you're thinking about it, you're probably doing fine👍