#my soul is gone just like the ability to see my screen

[unconscious-rat]

The cracks in my phone grow stronger each day

[forlix]

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬・l.f.

— "if you smell the same as someone, you'll have some peace of mind."

words・1k pairing・felix x gn!reader genres・hurt/comfort, established relationship warnings・detailed descriptions of an anxiety episode

a/n・ inspired by this thing lix said in an ep of skz code and my favorite line from natsume souseki’s kokoro. i hope this can provide u with some solace; love u

When you slip into your side of the bed, Felix feels a touch of cool air from the duvet being lifted off the mattress, but it’s quickly nullified by your body’s warm pressure against his as you tuck yourself into his side. He looks at you, shrouded in one of his old hoodies, glasses halfway down the bridge of your nose, one hand patting down the blanket around your legs and the other holding your phone to your face as you scan over a text.

This is far from the first time you’ve spent the night at his place, and even further from the first time his anxiety has made itself known beyond just its ceaseless simmering beneath his skin. Yet, it is the first time the two events have happened in simultaneity, and he finds himself wondering if he should tell you about the unmistakable tightness pulling at his ribs or the winding coil waiting to snap behind his eyes.

An answer follows as quickly as the question surfaces, though. You haven’t been dating long, but in only three days short of six months Felix has learned that he could cut his heart open over your hands and you’d still find a way not to spill a drop of his blood. That is the extent to which your love makes him feel safe, secure, sacred; the extent to which he believes in your ability to protect his soul, even when it isn’t something unseen and external bombarding his defenses but the most familiar enemy of all. One that bears his name and wears his face.

“Baby,” Felix says, and your fingers still over your screen. As does your heart, when you see his quivering lips and unblinking eyes.

Your phone falls upon the blanket with a soft thud.

Scrawled all over the lines of your face is the worry that Felix was so reluctant to cause, but the way your eyes soften as you look at him now is a perfect replica of how they did that time you took him stargazing on the roof of your apartment building, and breathing becomes marginally easier right away.

“What’s happening?” You whisper, your fingers swift but so careful as they find and slide over his wrist. “How can I help, angel?”

Shakily, blindly, Felix’s hand chases yours under the sheets, and your palms have hardly touched before you’re completing his unspoken sentence. You lace your fingers with his, their pads fluttering against the back of his hand, and this gives him the strength to utter, to plead—

“Hold me?”

Your free hand moves to graze the curve of his cheekbone, then to hold his nape. Then, with a flourish of movement that Felix hardly registers, you lift yourself to straddle his lap and tighten your arm where it curls around his neck, drawing him so gently into your embrace that he can all but evanesce against you.

Time ceases to exist. What proceeds is simply warmth: your hands and mouth pressing life back into his body with every sweep through his hair and “I’ve got you” upon his ear; his face gone in the cluster of fabric that marks the beginning of your hood, his hand pushing beneath the heavy cotton to seek out your bare back, his breaths timed to the quiet heartbeat he finds there.

The two of you spend what feels like multiple lifetimes locked together in this fashion.

It is somewhere towards the end of life number three that Felix realizes, dimly, arbitrarily, that you don’t smell like anything.

You’ve always come with something, be it the aromatic remnants of your childhood home that you’ve never quite outgrown, the fragrance you always dab behind your ears before leaving the house, or the telltale shampoo-conditioner combination you’ve been using for years. But right now, there is no discernible scent attached to your skin or your clothes; no olfactory indications of your person, your presence.

This surprises Felix so thoroughly that it seals his windpipe closed for a few seconds. It’s as if he’s lost something he never realized was precious until only after it’s slipped from his grasp, and the notion nearly sends him on a new spiral entirely, nearly undoes the progress that you’ve so tenderly helped him make since settling upon his thighs.

But then you shift, and, in a manner reminiscent of brushing thick, tangled vines out of the way to read an ancient stone plaque, Felix skims the tip of his nose over the hollow of your throat, and it is there that he finds the subtle scents of you that he thought he’d forfeited. And his next realization not only pries his lungs open again but brings a much-needed rush of oxygen back into them.

It is his bodywash that you used in the shower and his garment that you slipped into right after drying off. It is his blanket that you’re currently folded together in and his dormitory that you’ve carried a spare key to for weeks now. It's his hands and lips that dote constantly on your neck and waist and shoulders and anywhere they can reach like poppies vying for homes in cracked cement.

It’s not that you don’t smell like anything. It’s that you smell like him. 

Like us.

Felix knows well that anxiety is too fickle a creature to ever leave for good, but when this thought occurs to him he senses the foul apparition waver for once.

He starts to unravel himself from you after life number seven, and you expel your relief in the form of a sigh when you pull away and see the faint smile on your boyfriend's face; sense the stable in, out of the chest your hands rest upon.

The puff of air is quickly sucked back in, though, when Felix presses his lips to the underside of your jaw; to the point of your chin; to the apple of your cheek; and, at last, directly to yours. The kiss begins tense and unmoving, still riddled with the tonnage of his burden, but then his hand cradles your face with all the ardor of thank you, and his tears taste like the words I love you when they land on your tongue.

And it is perfect, as is he.

🔖 (send an ask or reply to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[sheegons]

OKAY SO WHO ASKED FOR A POST THAT DETAILS DAMIANS CONNECTIONS TO MAGIC?.. nobody? oh okay.

(be forewarned, this is long)

now after ignoring batman 666, let's see what we have.

ROBIN: SON OF BATMAN (2015)

now, in robin: son of batman #1 It's confirmed that after his death in batman incorporated, damian went to hell. Hell is usually connected with the more magical side of the dc universe, but that's not it.

The entirety of the comic delves into damians connections to more mystical things. mythical swords and magical ancient towers, weird extinct bat-dragons, magical cults that want to destroy the whole world, etc etc.

this is easily regarded as one of damians best comics and having peak damian characterisation, so obviously Damian being magically inclined can easily work well with his character.

Now, after a barrel load of compliments, let's get to the extremely negative side of things.

TEEN TITANS (2016)

Damian's cloned brother has magic and that sentence is about as much as i care for this book. Moving on.

BATMAN (2016)

Again, dog shit damian characterisation, but here we go. Damian here actually shows an ability to use a binding spell and has a wand, making some sort of deal with a random demon, but a far cry from damian apparently selling his soul in batman 666. Moving on finally out of rebirth because that was a bad time for Damian's character.

ROBIN (2021)

Now we go back to the good. Apparently from the maternal part of damians family, magic is more commonplace. ra's even having a whole spell book to his name. Robin 2021 kinda toys with the ghul family and the lazarus pits magical and devilish side which isn't new... but it's new to involve damian!

In the final parts of this story, Damian's heart specifically is used as a plot device, lord deathman even dubbing it as "the bloodstream of the demon" and ruh (ra's' mother) uses it as a power source to fuel demon summonings, which started the Lazarus rain event.

TEEN TITANS DARK (Unreleased)

Back in early 2023 (i think) dc teased a sort of "teen titans dark" with damian, black alice and monkey prince. The "dark" moniker referencing Justice league dark, a magic team made up of magic users that solve magical bullshit. It's a good book, recommended read, i just thought I'd add this to the pile.

Detective comics/Knight terrors

Now, including these two together because they're about the same topic: Dreams.

damian is confirmed to have some sort of control over dreams and sleep, defeating demons that show up in his sleep, yet never actually disappear when he wakes up. He also has an ability to stay awake after a massive worldwide phenomenon causes everyone, even the dream masters that taught damian, to sleep and experience night terrors.

Dreams are, again, connected to the magical side of the dc universe. Now I'm not going to pretend like i actually read sandman to you, i can't lie on ramadan, so let's all give me a pass here for my lack of understanding of all that.

Batman and robin (2023)

In this, damian mentions a bit of off screen monster hunting with Frankenstein and lays a trap that lights someone on fire. I used to think this was some sort of hex but this artwork is extremely unclear, but since Frankenstein is mentioned and from my knowledge dc's Frankenstein is magic let's pretend this is some sort.

As an extra note: this guy definitely died. There's no way about it, he got lit on fire with nobody helping him. He's gone. Damian just killed a man.

Extra Extra notes:

talia using magic!

now, i haven't included these examples in the "the ghuls have magic" segment because uh...

(batman: the doom that came to Gotham/dc bombshells)

yeah...

Not only are these interpretations of talia EXTREMELY orientalist but also just generally out of character and could've been done with any randomly introduced characters.

For the unknowing white american people in the crowd: arabs actually don't only dress in revealing "belly dancer" outfits and lanterns. i know, shocking, we actually wear normal clothes.

And just to add again, there's a lot of stories that include ra's having magic, but I'm not the biggest ra's head (lol) so i didn't read them all, i implore u to do your own research because I'm not doing it.

this about wraps it up. thank you to the magic damian believers may we all win someday.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello! Congratulations on the followers! I saw your asks for the event are open and was hoping to get a soulmate AU with Wrecker or Tech. Hurt/comfort if your up for it.

Lost

Summary: When you were a child, you never found any items that belonged to someone else in your things. Your parents reassured you to the best of their abilities, telling you that your soulmate was probably just very neat and didn’t lose things. But, by the time you reach your teenage years, you’ve accepted that while your soulmate might be yours, you’re not necessarily theirs.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 2784

Warnings: Enough angst that I made myself weepy, but there's a happy ending. Reader is described as having hair and is referred to by the nickname Haze.

Prompt: Soulmate AU - when you lose an item, it ends up in your soul mates possession.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, you didn't specify which Soul mate AU you wanted, so I went through a list and picked one that I thought sounded interesting. I hope you don't mind!

“There you are,” You don’t look up from your computer screen at the familiar voice of Suture, the leader of this group of teenagers and young adults. “So, Haze,” you pause as he calls you by your assigned nickname, “What do you have for me?”

“Do you think that slicing is magic, Suture?” You ask, your fingers moving across the keyboard again, “If I’m not careful we’ll get caught. And we do not want to be caught.”

He drops down on one of the crates that line the wall behind you, “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m just eager.”

You sigh and turn on your stool, “What do you even want this list for, Suture?”

“It’s a list of soulmates. Why do you think I want this list?”

You sigh once more and turn back to the computer, “I know you’re salty about not having a soulmate, Suture, but you really need to let it go.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’ve come to terms with the fact that my soulmate belongs to someone else. It doesn’t make me want to make other people as miserable as me.”

Suture laughs, “You say that, Haze, but you joined this group too. You’re just as bitter as me. You just haven’t admitted it yet.”

“Is there something you need or are you just here to make me hate you?” You ask sharply.

“Wann join me in bed?” Suture asks with a leer.

“I want you to leave me alone so I can focus.” You bite out in retort, “If you want someone in your bed, go and ask Diamond. She’s not busy.”

“You’ll join me eventually.”

“No. I won’t. I’m doing this one job, and then I’m moving on to a more reasonable cell.”

“Suit yourself. You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

You hear, more than see, him get up and stalk out of your workroom. And you exhale slowly before you focus your attention back on your work. As soon as you finish this, you’re gone.

There’s the sound of heavy footsteps behind you, and you release an explosive sigh, “I thought I said—” You whirl around to glare at Suture, only to pause and blink at the man standing behind you. “You’re not Suture.”

“Nope.” Spoiler, a Kiffar man, says with an easy grin. “I can go and get him if you’d like.”

“Please don’t.”

He laughs and pulls a small crate over to sit next to you, “He’s been harassing you again?”

“He seems to think that he’s charming enough to convince me to stay.” You reply as you look away from him and glance back at the computer, “He’s not.”

Spoiler laughs again, and leans on the table, “Hey, Haze?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you here?”

You pause and shoot him a confused look, “Like, in general, or—?”

He grins, “I mean, why’d you join this group?”

“That’s a dumb question, Spoiler. We both know that there isn’t anywhere else for someone like to me go.” You reply, “People without soulmates aren’t welcome. Anywhere.”

“You’re not like the rest of them, Haze.”

You continue typing, “If you’re not careful people are going to peg you for a narc, Jedi.”

“You had me pegged the moment you met me, didn’t you?”

“You weren’t trying all that hard to hide yourself from me.”

“True. You’re a decent person. Don’t have anything to do with any other the others. That’s why I’m so surprised that you’re here. That you’re helping.” 

You sigh softly, “What do you want from me, Spoiler?”

“I want you to be smart about this.” He hisses, “This, right here, it’s going to ruin your life. And not just your life, the lives of hundreds of children.”

You’re quiet for a moment, “...why should they get to be happy?”

Spoiler sighs, “You don’t believe that.”

“...no. I don’t.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

“Can I stop you?”

“No.”

You sigh, “Go ahead.”

Spoiler drops a handful of credits on the table, “Take your laptop and go and get a caf.”

You shoot him a bewildered look, “Sorry?”

“Haze, you don’t want to be here for the next couple of hours. Alright?”

You stare at him, your eyes wide. And then, slowly, you close your laptop and grab the handful of credits. “Alright.”

“Good girl.” Spoiler walks you to the exit, and, as nice as he can, shoves you out of the hide-out and slams the door behind you.

You stare at the closed door for a moment, before you turn on your heels and head towards your favorite cafe. It offers a free internet connection, so long as you buy something. 

It’s also a nice place to hear some juicy gossip.

But, most importantly, they sell your favorite sandwich and you’re starving. 

The cafe is small and out of the way, not the most popular of the cafes in the area, it’s also not the cheapest, but they offer the best firewalls and their meals are filling, so you take a single table in the back corner and open your computer to a blank email and stare at it for a moment.

It’s been months since you’ve contacted your mom.

You should message her more often.

Slowly, you type out the first sentence, ‘Hi mom, I know it’s been a while-” and then you stop. What are you supposed to say? What can you say?

You’re pulled from your spiraling thoughts when someone stops next to your table, “Can I ask what sandwich that is? It smells amazing.”

The man standing next to your table is massive, a veritable wall of muscle, though he has a kind smile on his face. 

“Oh, this is the Manager’s Special with extra veggies on naan bread. It’s not the cheapest on the menu, but it’s very filling.”

“Hm, I’ll have to give it a try. Thanks.”

“No problem.” You reply, absently, as you focus your attention back on the email. And, maybe if you had been paying more attention, you wouldn’t have noticed the bracelet wrapped around his wrist.

But you were only half paying attention. So, naturally, the simple bracelet jumps out at you. 

And you realize that you know that bracelet.

Your dad had it specially made for you for your sixteenth birthday. The inner band has a simple phrase, Your worth isn’t based on other people, while the outside was decorated with vines and flowers.

You loved it. 

It was meant to be a birthday and a “you’re enough as you are” present. But it vanished two months after you got it. 

Honestly, you thought your brother stole it and gave it to his soulmate. It was the major breaking point in your family. Especially since your brother never denied stealing it, and doubled down on taking it.

You open your mouth to say something to the stranger, but he’s already moved away from your table. So, instead, you watch. You watch as he joins a group of men, his brothers probably.

You watch as a woman, laughingly, smacks his shoulder, bumps him with hers, and then wraps her arms around him in a hug.

And your heart shatters.

Your gaze drops to your laptop, and the blinking cursor that seems to be taunting you. 

Of course. Of course, you’re not his soul mate. 

You knew this. You’ve known this for years.

You’re not good enough to have a soul mate.

Maybe you’re just like the others. Just as hopeless. Just as broken.

You switch tabs and stare at the hack you’ve been working on for days. All you have to do is hit enter, and Suture will have all of the information he needs for his attack.

You press enter, and hundreds of people will die.

You rest your fingers on the enter key and then pull your hand away from your computer.

You can’t do it.

You can’t sentence one hundred children to death, and one hundred others to a life of loneliness. 

Quickly, before you can think again, you delete all of your work, and close the program, ensuring that you won’t be able to recover it.

You stare at the blank screen for a moment, and then you close your laptop and slide it into your bag. 

You’ll get your bracelet back, and then you’ll leave. You know the cell on Alderaan is a lot more political than terroristic, maybe they require a slicer.

Quickly, you wrap up what’s left of your lunch and slide it into your bag as well, and then you stand and walk over to the large man.

“Excuse me.” You say, once you standing at that table.

“Can we help you?” The man with long hair asks.

You pull a small slip of paper out of your bag, the insurance claim for the bracelet. “My father had that bracelet,” You point to the bracelet around the large man’s wrist, “made for me when I was 16. Here’s the insurance claim for it. I’d like it back.”

The man picks up the paper, and looks at it, and then at the bracelet itself, before he nods, and pulls it off, “Here you go. I’ve been keeping it safe for you.” He says with a smile.

“Thanks.” You take the bracelet and the insurance claim back, “Sorry for bothering you.”

“You can join us, if you like?” The man with glasses offers, “There is plenty of room.”

You don’t meet his gaze, or anyone elses, “It’s better I don’t, I think. Sorry, again. I’ll be more careful with my stuff.”

“You don’t have—” The large man starts, but you flee before he can finish his sentence. It’s better this way.

You’re less likely to get hurt.

Wrecker stares at the place his soul mate was just standing, and then turns his helpless gaze to his brothers. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t.” Hunter replies, reassuringly, “But you should go after her.”

“Just be careful to not scare her.” Crosshair warns. 

“I’m not going to do it intentionally.” Wrecker bites out at his younger brother, before he gets to his feet and follows his soul mate out of the cafe. 

She’s easy enough to track, now that he knows what she looks like, and she’s not trying to avoid detection. 

He hopes she’s not just shy, he’d feel awful following her if she was running away because she was shy.

But, at the same time, Wrecker has been longing for this day since he was a cadet. Since the first time a piece of her clothing appeared in his bed. The day that bracelet appeared, mixed in with what few belongings he could lay claim to, he vowed that he would one day return it to her.

It was clear to him that someone loved her a lot.

Now he knows that it was a gift from her parents. 

Though he can’t help but wonder why she looked so sad when she took the bracelet back. Surely she should have been happy, right?

Although—

She might think that he’s not her soulmate. It’s not like he owns anything that he can afford to get lost. So if her stuff went missing, and she never found anything that wasn’t hers, it would make sense that she might think that he’s not her soulmate.

His heart aches at the thought. She must have been so lonely.

Plus, it’s not like people who don’t have soul mates are treated well. The treatment of the clones improved, a lot, as soon as people found out that they had soul mates too.

So, not only would she have felt alone…she would have been looked down on.

Poor thing. How is he supposed to apologize for that?

Wrecker trails after her, through the crowded streets, until she ducks down a much less busy street. He doesn’t mind if she knows that he’s following her, though he does slow down when an older man approaches her.

“Haze.”

“Suture.” Her voice is soft, but there’s steel underlying her voice.

Wrecker has never been more attracted to someone in his life.

“What happened? Did you finish the code?” Suture demands. 

“I finished it.”

“And?”

“I deleted it.”

There’s silence for a moment, and Wrecker moves closer, suddenly having a bad feeling as to this conversation. 

“You. You deleted it.” Suture repeats.

Haze’s eyes flicker to Wrecker, and then back to Suture, “I deleted it.”

“Why?” Suture asks through a laugh, “Why would you do that? This was our great equilizer. We were finally going to make them treat us the same—”

“It wouldn’t have worked. You’d be classified as a terrorist. And I don’t help terrorists.” Haze says strongly.

Suture lets out another disbelieving laugh, and he takes several steps away from her, before he spins and his fist collides with her cheek. Haze stumbles backwards, but Suture isn’t able to get off any more blows before Wrecker is between them.

“Maybe you should try beating up on someone a little bigger than her,” Wrecker growls, not the least bit afraid of using his size to intimidate the man who just attacked his soulmate.

Suture takes a step back, and then another one. And then he laughs, “You can’t protect her everywhere.” He threatens, “I will get my pound of flesh from her one way or another.”

The tension drains from Wrecker’s shoulders as Suture runs off, and he turns to look at Haze. She’s rubbing her rapidly bruising cheek, but she still won’t look at him. 

“Haze, right?” Wrecker ducks his head slightly to try and catch her eyes, “Are you alright?”

“Haze is fine. And I’m…fine. Just fine.” She pauses, “Sorry, again. You shouldn’t have had to get involved.”

“Of course I’m going to get involved. You’re my soul mate.” Wrecker says gently.

Her head snaps up, and Wrecker’s heart aches when he sees tears in her eyes, “That’s not right. I don’t have a soul mate.” The way she says it, as though the words are being ripped from her lips, makes him want to wrap her in his arms and promise that no one will ever hurt her again. 

“I don’t think that’s right,” Wrecker replies, gently reaching out to tuck a strand of hair off her face.

“It is right! There’s something wrong with me—”

“No.” Wrecker interrupts, “No, there isn’t.”

“How can you possibly know that?” She’s crying now, and this time Wrecker doesn’t stop from pulling her into his arms. Her hands curl into the thin material of his shirt, and Wrecker’s arms tighten around her.

“I’m a clone, Haze.” He whispers, “You never found anything of mine because I never had anything to lose.”

She shakes her head, as if she doesn’t believe him. 

“Hey, hey.” He brings his hands up to cup her face, “Look at me.” Her eyes are watery, and tears still roll down her face, and Wrecker still thinks she’s the most stunning woman he’s ever seen, “What does you’re heart tell you?”

She trembles under his hands, “That’s you’re my soul mate.” She admits.

“My heart tells me the same thing.” Gently, he wipes her tears off her face, “I’ve loved you since the first time you lost a shirt. It was black and red, and I turned it into a stuffed animal so I could keep it with me everywhere.”

A shaky laugh falls from her, “I remember that shirt. I thought mom threw it away because there was a massive hole in it.”

“There was a pretty big hole in it.” Wrecker admits, and then a small smile crosses his lips, “I still have them.”

“Them?”

“Everything you’ve ever lost. I keep them in a box under my bunk. Just waiting for the day that I’d meet you, so I could return them.”

She sniffles, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. It’s what soul mates do.” Wrecker ducks his head and lightly kisses a tear off her cheek, “So, how about we go back to the cafe? You can meet my brothers, and you can tell us about this Suture character?”

She shakes her head, “No, I need to leave. If he catches me alone, he’ll kill me.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

She stares at him, and then, slowly, a smile crosses her lips, “I guess, you are pretty big, aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna tell you a secret,” Wrecker leans in, “I’m also pretty protective.”

She looks surprised, and then a startled giggle falls from her lips. “Alright. I suppose I’d like to meet your brothers.”

Wrecker beams at her, “You’re going to be the happiest soul mate ever. You’ve had enough sadness for one lifetime.”

Haze ducks her head, “Yeah. I guess I have.”

[sillyromance]

Can you make comfort vore? From Optimus?

Hello, dear evelyntyecrqzy!

Sure! Here you go!

P.S: there is angst and one heavy word in this work. Also I've written it from the first person's perspective... I really hope you don't mind it.

Have a good day and take care!

***

- How do you feel, little one?

It was late evening; almost all the lights were gone, the only bright area was Ratchet’s lab: the old medic was staring at the big green screen, typing aggressively on the panel and mumbling something inaudible. He was too busy to pay attention to anything else. The rest of the team left to their quarters after they had brought the kids home. No body had shown any signs of life since then.

I was lying on the couch, curled up in a tight ball. My head felt heavy and hurt; I felt cold and lonely. It was hard to hold back sobbing, but I didn't want to attract unnecessary attention - nobody cared anyways. Why would they? Were my problems that important?

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears running down my cheeks violently as my shoulders started shuddering...

And then I heard his deep, gentle voice.

"How do you feel, little one?" - I turned my red face to the huge mech behind me. Optimus Prime, my guardian. Through the cacophony of my thoughts I hadn't heard him coming. His blue optics far above glowed with concern.

I hurried to wipe the tear tracks from my face and stand up, mumbling something like: "Sorry" or "It's fine, don't bother yourself..." But as far as I did this, his large servo wrapped around me and very soon I found myself sitting on his plain rough palm, being swirled with his kind, sad gaze. I felt nothing but guilt, though the only reason for it was my depressing mood. I couldn't look straight at him, turning away over and over, rubbing my hot cheeks in attempt to get rid of the tears. I hated myself for the mess I had become – I waited for him to throw me away as far as he would get a good look at my ugliness. However, Optimus didn't seem disgusted with me at all.

- Did someone offend you? - The mech asked again with the same sincere tenderness in his tone.

I shook my head negatively.

- Is it something in your body?

I closed my face with both hands and shook the head even more violently, crooking.

- No...

- And what’s about your soul?..

I sniffed silently; choking sensation dug its claws into my throat as it let out a pathetic "Mm-gm..." and I nodded. Everything in me just fell somewhere down; I felt my poor heart beating hysterically in the stomach. There was a crazy mix of panicking fear and complete indifference. I was trembling, wishing to be left alone. But even more, I wanted to be comforted. I wanted someone to embrace me and whisper soothing words, to say that it was going to be OK, to stroke my hair as if I was just a kid. But wasn't it too much to ask? I didn't dare to believe Optimus would bother himself to spend time with such a puny, pathetic creature.

After this cut through my head, I couldn't keep myself from crying anymore – I literally burst out.

- Hey, look at me, Y/N.

Hesitantly, I obliged. I was ready to see disappointment or distaste, but instead...

- There is nothing to be embarrassed with. Do you want to talk about it?

I wasn't sure if I heard him right. Did he really... worry about me? Of course, as my guardian, he should have, regardless... Wasn't I dreaming?

- W-what d-do you m-mean? – I replied indecisively.

- I thought, perhaps you could share your pain with someone. Sometimes it helps. - A small, understanding smile appeared on his faceplate. - I'm sorry... It hurts my spark to see such precious little thing crying.

I lost my ability to speak for some seconds.

- Does it r-really? W-why?

Prime's eyebrows lifted up in surprise.

- Because you matter. You're my friend, Y/N. Friends help each other, don't they?

His gravely voice had already had its way with me. My shudders calmed down and though my eyes were still wet, I couldn't help but smiled back at him.

- Thank you... for this... But I don't want to talk right now...

- It's absolutely fine...

- ... I'm very, very tired, though. - At the moment I said that, my spine weakened and I collapsed at the flat, warm surface of Optimus' hand.

Something childish, basic, something from the abyss of my wild, subconscious core suddenly arose inside me and escaped my chest with barely audible plead.

- Please... Don't leave me here...

A quiet sigh rambled beside me; my entire figure was washed with warm air of his exhale.

- Don't worry, Y/N. I won't.

His digits closed over my tiny form. I wasn't able to see a thing anymore, but I could say for sure that we moved away from the place.

Quite soon the sounds of Ratchet's work faded away. Optimus opened one of the many electric doors and walked into a somewhat room - I heard a soft "whoosh" as the panel shifted back to its place. My guardian set me free on his berth, and only then I understood that we were in his private room. Sitting down beside me, he spoke even gentler than before:

- You are out of energy. And so do I. But still, I don't want you to stay alone...

Do you trust me?

I nod, already predicting where he was heading to. Cybotronian friends committed this small ritual with humans regularly; many were fond of it. However, I had never tried it with him. I couldn't claim that I was completely inexperienced too, but those previous times were emergencies which I couldn't truly like – they were harsh and distasteful like a rotten fruit. Now... It promised to be much more intimate. And it depended only on my wish.

I glanced at him through my eyelashes - I was too sleepy to keep the eyes wide open - and murmured:

- I do.

Optimus nodded. I was lifted up again - straight to his mouth.

Slowly, controlling every his movement, my guardian guided me inside his maw and laid my feet on his squishy glossa - there was a faint blue light twinkling at the back of his depthless throat illuminating a humid, warm chamber. Thanks to him I didn't even touch the sharp dents – their deadly blades loomed right above me, but stayed harmless, serving simply a reminder of what power Optimus actually had over me. The glossa curled around my legs as soft, thick blanket, then released them and I was pushed further to the glowing entrance of the esophagus.

I stared down, processing what was about to happen. I appreciated the leisure pace Optimus chose with me; his gentle licks and steady, rhythmical ventilating brought me nothing but comfort and peace. I sensed my toes in his pharynx and waited for inevitable with dull thrill - to be unceremoniously drugged into misty, humid confines of the muscles’ trap, to be deafed and choked. That what I was usually met with before, every time I was gulped down. However, when Optimus swallowed, his artificial, metal flesh contracted just slightly, pulling me so carefully inside that I almost missed the moment. It was like... A hug. The next swallow was just a little bit stronger - I gasped as he let his hand go off me and my tiny being got engulfed into his soft throat. It felt better than anything I knew before. Surrounded by the pulsing alien flesh, I finally felt protected and loved – the state I sought for so desperately all that fuckin’ day.

For some time he just held me there, his head titled back. I didn't make a move, trying to avoid hurting him. Living heat of his soaked into my bones and made me so drowsy that I thought I would fall asleep. However, at that moment the muscles came to action and lovingly tugged me deeper. The light grew brighter, though it didn't bother me at all; I was easily slipping in a long wiry tube constructed from the smaller ones, thinner and more solid, poured with viscous, bubbling energon – I was watching little sparks floating in there as I was passing by and a weak flame of forgotten happiness flickered in my soul once more.

Finally, I arrived at his fueltank. Its walls greeted me with a friendly squeeze, forcing me to curl into fetal position. I didn't cry anymore; all my worries and demons disappeared long ago, at the second I heard: "How do you feel, little one?"

God! I was so horribly wrong. I thought no one needed me, that I was lost, abandoned... And still, there was someone who couldn't bare me cry.

I felt Optimus' servo laying down on the lump I must have made on his waist, caressing me. I rubbed my head against the spot where I could recognize the pressure and smiled.

I did matter.

[dyke-a-saur]

Finished watching Heartbreak High and I gotta say, I feel like they pulled off Gen Z High School really well. Like I could go to school with these absolute agents if chaos.

Okay but important business:

Amerie

I loved her the second she popped up on screen. Her energy, her personality, and her friendship with Harper. It was just the best. At times tho, I could see why the other characters antagonized her. After all, it was just as much her map as Harper’s and she put people in awful situations. Not to mention the reveal that she failed to let Harper in, then had the nerve to say she’d always be there. She even did the same to Malakai (tho it’s clear she acted out of trauma from her and Harper’s friendship gone sour)

Dusty

Fuck you. Youse a bitch, a snake, and truly a shit stain on the trousers of humanity. Work on yourself. Big soulful eyes tho.

Ca$h

Arguably the second most emotionally intelligent character in the show? Definitely better at it than Darren and his relationship was so refreshing? It was neat to see it not be a “I like dudes, oh no,” storyline and instead “I’m ace and just need to better express that to my partner who I love and adore”. Also that “I love you scene” was peak ghetto and I loved it. Darren’s Baby Daddy really behind bars, huh?

Malakai

This man. Is so fine. So sweet. And so funny. I love the way he gets to know Amerie and then befriends her and then becomes her first. And even if he handled the peer pressure to talk about the details poorly, he wanted to do right by her. I also loved how they explored the kinship he had with OTHER BLA(c)K CHARACTERS. It was nice to see how much he healed by being in his community and being surrounded by love for his culture. Missy being a big part of that was beautiful.

Harper

I did get the "spoiler" that she went through "something traumatizing" right before the start of the show, then later got more clues from Tumblr. So i had more patience with her character at the start, being honest. But goddamn it was so hard to watch her shut Amerie out and lash out at her. It also sucked seeing her antagonized in the second half because if she could've reached out or accepted people reaching in, then I feel like shit could've been handled better. But after seeing the events of "that night" I could totally get how and why she would want Amerie out of her life. Fake as hell for not owning up to the Incest Map tho. I was constantly whisper-yelling at my phone "girl, get it together!'

Quinni

No notes. Love her. She's the best. Also the most emotionally intelligent character (not a surprise and fuck you Sasha). She helps so many characters process their emotions, make up, figure out wwhat they want, and still stands on her own as a great character with her own life going on. I'm NT, but from what I've seen on Tumblr, most ND people see her as good rep.

Spider

Fuck this guy. Racist, sexist, (not as homophobic as previously assumed), and awful. But I love it. I love when he gets told to shut up. I love it when he's being awful and the other characters are like "yeah, fuck this dude". But also, he was weirdly complex? like the scene where he would've gotten it on with Amerie makes a lot of sense in context of the rest of his behavior. He's overcompensating because someone he genuinely liked, and cared for to an extent, hurt him in a vulnerable place and treated him like a dissapointment. Doesn't give him the right to react with daily verbal abuse, but his character makes more sense that way. I'd like to see him grow from that, but I'm not sure how.

Star of the Show

They're here, they're queer, they're unapologetically BLACK, they. Are. DARREN.

Okay jokes aside, I love this bitch. They're not only a great friend, but they (mostly) know what they want in life. It's sad to see Darren be dismissed as “too much” in their home, and you can really see how its affected the way they view their ability to be loved and cherished. So seeing them find that in Ca$h and watch the relationshp between the two grow was beautiful. It hurt to see Darren hurt Ca$h, like they gay ass ain't know what the "A" in "LGBTQIA" stood for, but that growth and intracommunity hurt was important to see.

Others

Ant annoyed me but he seemed like he could do/be better if he wasn’t around the rest of the guys. Sasha pissed me off, but I hope losing Quinni was enough to actually get her to look at her self-righteous tendencies and work on herself, I wanna see her go far. Missy was a fucking icon and I love her. Ms. Jojo is the love of my life and fuck Spider/Ant/Dusty (nigga) for screwing her over like that. Mrs. Spigot is my literal soulmate.

I think that’s all for now? But yeah go watch it if you haven’t already. It is another show focusing on the sex lives of teens but it feels more authentic than anything we’ve been given before.

[themadsquirrel09]

Tug-of-war

Fandom ☆ South Park 

Ship ☆ KenMan ♡ KenEric (Eric Cartman x Kenny McCormick) 

Characters ☆ Kenny McCormick, Eric Cartman, Stan Marsh, Liane Cartman, Mr. Kitty. A bit of Mr. Mackey, Wendy Testaburger, Kyle Broflovski and Butters.

Rating ☆ M

Summary ☆ One impulsive action can make the difference in the game of life and death.

Warnings ☆ Non-explicit adult themes, blood, swearing. They are kids here (11): it is mostly care, angst and fluffiness.

About it ☆ This fanfic works as a one shot, it is also part of an AU I’m writing in no specific order. I’m still trying to choose the name °u°’’’

☆ 3362 words ☆

With love: (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Stan

“Here comes a candle to light you to bed.

Here comes a chopper to chop off your head.”

I hate this house, screw this!  

From the backyard, I still can hear the moans, the thuds, shit! I try to climb fast and get into the clubhouse; when I finally do, Mr. Kitty greets me. 

“This place is a mess, but good enough for one night, Kitty.” Something between a purr and a meow is his reply. I made a run for it as soon as I got home and heard them, but I knew this happened before; that it would happen again (and again), so there’s a mini fridge and a sleeping bag here. 

I search into my backpack for a distraction. All I have is food, a few books and, yes! My PSP! I smile at it but, when I hold it, my view gets blurred. I have to wipe the tears from the screen. 

Fuck, like my day isn’t shitty enough already! That PSP reminds me that I have Kenny’s will memorized. I asked for a copy to his lawyer, and read it over and over again, looking for something that I could use to get my way while he was in a coma. Now I know every word by heart.

I toss the PSP on the sleeping bag. Fucking Liane , she is the one to blame, because I can’t blame myself without breaking down and lately I just can’t get mad at Kenny.

“Goddammit!” I curse choked into sobs until I hear a noise, it is Mr. Kitty coming towards me at full speed, purring loudly. He pushes his head right into my hand; cats have funny faces, it makes me chuckle and calms me down. 

I grab some snacks, go for a Mountain Dew, and lean on the window frame; maybe to distract myself from what is happening inside the house, I think about Kenny, do you feel that way? Or were you just pissed at me because of something I did?

I replay in my head those words meant for me.

Eric, I never really liked you. But then, nobody does. You have no ability to feel, and you are going to die alone and miserable. It is only because I feel so sorry for you that I leave you my Sony PSP.

He calls me Eric. Even if sometimes I feel like I say his name over and over again, like a fucking parrot, he almost never does the same. I guess it means nothing, but why do I like it when he does that?  

That question makes me uneasy, so I go back to the will and get pissed. If you don't like me, then why do you feel so sorry for me? And then you let me have your only valuable possession... you know that you will come back to life, right? But maybe he thinks I don't.

“Kenny.” I go wide-eyed because I wasn’t expecting to say his name out loud, then I take a step back when I hear his voice calling me back! I peek through the window as if I’m going to find him outside. What I see is the snow covered in blood; I can feel the liquid dripping from my hair. When I blink, it is all gone. 

My heart hammers fast, but after a moment it slows down until it stops completely . Some weird sense of warmth comes to me. It surrounds me and gives me peace, then I feel it ascend; I look up just in time to see a shooting star, an impossibly big one. I feel my heart start again.

Shit, I better go the fuck to sleep.

Instead, I sit on the sleeping bag and take the PSP; when I touch it, I feel like Kenny for a second. By now I’m used to it, since that time his soul was stuck in my body, this happens sometimes. I wonder: what is he doing right now? , but to get my head out of that, out of everything, I play until I fall asleep with the PSP in my hands.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

The only reason I talk to Liane the next day is because I need her to sign my permit and give me food, but I can barely listen to her lies, or even look at her as she showers me with unwanted affection.

I struggle my way out as quickly as I can and, maybe because of that, I’m the first one to make it to the bus stop. I'm pissed and sleepy so, when I hear footsteps, I prepare to shit on whoever is daring to cross my way but, well, fuck . Kenny’s big orbs lay on me.

“Hi, Eric.” I try to avoid his gaze, but I can’t. Does he go at a slower pace today? 

“Hey, Kenny.” My voice comes out hoarse, I didn’t get inside the sleeping bag yesterday.

“Dude, are you ok?” Do you really care, or are you just feeling sorry for me again? And he appears to be fragile, but is probably the only kid who could have had a worse night, and still asks me if I’m ok. 

“Hey, dudes!” Stan must have drunk an extra shot if he is so happy, that’s good, distracting. Soon Kyle joins us, but I’m so tired I can barely take my anger out on him. 

Since today we have this stupid school trip, I sleep most of the way; when I do, I have this nightmare: 

I’m standing in a puddle of blood. I move out of the way, but there is blood everywhere and, little by little, paralyzed by fear, I see how the thick dark liquid fills the space; when it reaches my ankles, I panic and start running.

It seems like I go nowhere and, exhausted, I fall on my knees. What is it about this blood that’s so hypnotizing? I can’t stop looking, but when it is reaching my elbows, I hear crying and snap out of it: realizing I'm about to drown, I throw myself back. That’s when I see something emerging from this dark lake. 

I get close, and take him in my arms: it’s Kenny, his eyes are shut, his mouth is open, red flows out of the corner of his lips. 

All this blood, it pours out of him.

“Kenny, wake up.” I try to clean his face with my sleeve. Useless . “Wake up, damn it.” I see his eyes twitch. The sobs turn into a sweet song, a light sound I can barely distinguish. I try to find the source, but it seems like it comes from everywhere. 

While I wasn’t looking, Kenny somehow got out of my grip: he is now floating in front of me and, just for a split second, I see the huge wings that hold him up. The blood now reaches my belly button, I get a hold of his wrists and try to pull him close.

“Wake up!”

With that last scream, I wake up, sweating, buried in Kenny’s arm, clinging tightly to his parka. We lock eyes. What the fuck, am I still dreaming? There’s a warm light that surrounds him. We remain like that for a second and all I’m doing is trying not to cry. 

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m here.” Weird. Those simple whispered words it’s all I need to hear and I’m able to breathe again. When he places his hand on mine, I remember where we are and sit up quickly, but my hand holds on. I feel him squeezing lightly, then he lets go, and the bus stops.

“Why are we visiting a lame-ass national park, again!?” I complain about it as I make sure to stay close to Kenny. He seems much more into this stuff than I do and it takes just a minute, while I convince Butters that some flower is edible, for him to disappear. 

“Kenny?” Where the hell did you go? He is out of sight, but I walk like I know the way, like something—someone?—is calling me. A few minutes later, with the strong wind whistling and rumbling, I see the blond boy kneeling among lilac flowers. His body is turned away from me. He faces the abyss.

I get close without him noticing, when I’m just a few steps away, I feel as if thunder growls under my feet. Without even thinking, I run towards Kenny, grab him by the backpack, and yank him with all my might. The floor crumbles. 

Part of the ground is swallowed by the depths, but we are both safe. I fell on my butt and Kenny lies unconscious. I drag him away from the shattered floor and, for a moment, all I feel is my heart pounding. The chunk of earth we were standing on is gone and Kenny should be dead (again), but he isn’t. Because of me?

I glance at him and his face twitches, it seems like he is about to regain consciousness. I panic and run. I don’t know why, but I run until I’m breathless. 

After a while, I feel like throwing up, fainting, maybe both. I stumble and grab onto something, shutting my eyes so the world will stop spinning. Two things happen at the same time: on one side, I feel better, like a weight is lifted from my shoulders; on the other side, I hear the violent and very familiar sound of puking, it comes from right beside me. 

It is Stan who emptied his stomach. What? Did Stan just throw up for me? Even if it seems impossible, it feels like it. 

So I ran to the other kids and grabbed Stan's hand without noticing. He lets me keep doing that while he tells Wendy he is alright. I steady myself, we glimpse at each other and smile, then I let go of him. He doesn’t know what just happened, but why else would he do this for me? The rest of the trip, I keep smiling like an idiot, feeling like I did something I really like. Back on the bus, I can’t help but flinch when Kenny sits beside me and rests upon me those tired, bright eyes.

“What is it, poor boy, did you see a ghost?”

“No, but I almost became one,” he mutters and I pretend I didn’t hear him.

“What did you say?” I reply, teasing, I know Kenny gets frustrated when people can’t understand him. He squints at me and I almost feel him inspecting my soul. Why can’t I just look away? Fuck.

“I said: thanks dude, your face looks like shit too!” He leans towards me, and I feel myself leaning backwards. “What were you doing last night?” I scoff, amused.

“If you want me to answer that, Kenny, then you have to tell me first, what were you doing last night?” He blinks, taken aback. I can finally avert my gaze and smile smugly. I got him.

“Whatever, like I care!” He says and it stings a little, however I can’t just tell him what happened. It seems like he feels the same. 

This pisses me off.

Fuck it, I’ll just tell him! But, when I look at my side, I find Kenny is sleeping. I pull him by the parka, so his head lands on my shoulder, then I close my eyes and lean on him. I fall deep in a dream of a memory:

The moon peeks through the window and illuminates the room, but my view gets blurred by the—oh, so expected—tears. This time there’s something different, though: the soul of a joyful boy is trapped in my body.

“What’s the matter? It can’t be that you are crying.” Shit . Listening to my voice in that sweet-toned ring just makes me cry harder. “Dude?” He insists and I can feel his worry running through my skin. I breathe, trying to calm down. 

“It’s stupid. I cry at night because I don’t have a dad.” I feel my face warming up at the embarrassing confession. Kenny takes control of my left hand; he reaches for my right hand and holds it softly.

“It’s ok. I’m here.” I smile.

Those words seem to unfold as I wake up. I have to check if it was Kenny the one who said that right now, but I see that he is still asleep, we are still leaning on each other. Nobody can know that he looks cute to me at this instant, that I can't help but press myself against him just for a second before I struggle to upright swiftly. 

I get paranoid about it, but the other kids are talking, screaming and playing. Nobody saw us . I turn, find Kenny’s sleepy gaze already on me and smile nervously. It feels exactly like when I do something bad: I’m afraid I’ll get caught. I have to fill the silence.

“Man, if I knew that trip was so lame, I would have stayed home.” I lie, I would have rather died. I shield myself with my backpack not knowing exactly what I’m searching for, so I take out the PSP and, when I do, it feels like those times Kenny is about to show himself as a ghost. My breath hitches and I feel cold; even if it is him, ghosts creep me out.

“Oh dude, I haven’t played that in so long!” He doesn’t seem to notice, though.

“Check it out, Kenny, I’m already on level 42,” I say as I hand the PSP to him.

“Are you getting your ass kicked or what?”

“Yeah. No matter how much I reinforce the gate, they keep getting in.” Suddenly, we are closer than expected and he shows me the way. We get so distracted by talking and playing, that I barely notice we are back in South Park, but when I do, I swallow hard. If I get home and the same that happened yesterday goes down, I might lose my shit and murder someone. Maybe I will kill myself. That’d be the best .

“If I stay at your place, we can beat this in just a couple of hours, you know? We can also repair our clubhouse a bit, it’s a cool place to hang out,” Kenny says, smiling. Why would you want to stay with me? Are you just feeling sorry for me again? Wait. Did I say that out loud? I’m about to panic, but he gives me a look like he is clueless. “What is it, you had other plans?”

Other plans? I see my corpse lying on the floor and I burst into laughter. I laugh not to cry and because it is too funny. It is impossible that someone like this exists! At first, he asks me what is it, but after a while, maybe because of how much I’m kicking, wheezing, struggling to breathe, he starts to laugh too; at me? Sure, but I don’t care right now.

“Eric Cartman! I said this is your stop, mmk?”

“Calm the fuck down!” I get to say between laughs, “I’m going, ok?” I stand up and turn to see the blond offering back the PSP, but instead of taking it, I grab him by the arm and pull him. He comes with me.

As Kenny said, it only takes us a couple of hours to finish the game, then we start to fix the clubhouse a bit.

“Dude?”

“Kenny?”

“Do you have a crush on Stan?” I feel my gut dropping.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I saw you holding hands; you guys look cute together.” Why does hearing him say that makes me feel like shit? I put the tools aside and go for the door. He follows.

“Cartman?”

“Shut up, Kenny!” I snap, turning to scream in his face, but when I do, I accidentally step on Mr. Kitty’s tail. He hisses, bites me and I back away. Being so close to the entrance, I lose my balance. 

About to fall from the tree, I reach for Kenny and he gets to grab me by the arm. For an instant, I see in him that determined expression he usually has when he is Mysterion. He throws himself back pulling me, so I fall inside the clubhouse, but land on top of him. 

“Fuck!” I get off of Kenny as quickly as I can, he gasps for air. I was crushing him! “Kenny?” He smiles, trying to be reassuring, but he is having a fit of cough, so I grab him, sit him up and get him something to drink. He holds his chest with his eyes closed; the coughs mellow as he breathes deeply. I just look at him. Kenny’s hood is off and it is not every day that I get to see his whole face. Do you really have to hide all the time? 

“Dude!” He exclaims after finally drinking a bit of the Dr Pepper. “I almost died.” And it wouldn’t be the first time today.

“It’s your fault!” 

“Fuck you!” He says to my face playful, and I find myself incapable of insulting him back. “We are ok now, right? I just saved your ass.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“About what I said: I don’t care who you like. Let me know if you need a wingman.” I stare at my hands and remember how they reached for Kenny this morning. Did I save his life? Well, he just did the same for me. “Cartman?”

“What? Oh, yeah. I’ll let you know.” 

“Cool,” he says, then he gets into the sleeping bag. “Goodnight.” Kenny falls asleep in a heartbeat. You are even more tired than I am, aren’t you? But I feel restless and keep wondering:

“What were you doing last night?” I ask him under my breath. There is no answer. I sit beside the sleeping bag and imagine we are some kind of warriors; I’m the one standing guard, maintaining a protective field with my wizard powers. 

I see Kenny’s matches on the floor. He probably dropped them when we fell. I take them, go to the window, and after declaring the area is enemy-free, I light one. What kind of kid looks so happy just by watching the fire?

Kenny’s will surface on my mind as the fire goes out on its own: Eric, I never really liked you. But then, nobody does. Then what are you doing here? Why would you want to be my wingman?

I light another match.

You have no ability to feel, and you are going to die alone and miserable.  

I kind of wish I could agree about me having no ability to feel, then I remember his hand reaching for mine in that dream of a memory I had today. 

“Shit!” The fire burns my fingers and I let go of the match, which falls onto the snow. 

I turn to look at Kenny. He sleeps curled up like a stray kitten. Dying alone and miserable, huh? Who else but you would know how that feels?

I get close and kneel beside him, then I light another match. Funny; I’ve seen his face illuminated by fire so many times the image is stuck with me.

It is only because I feel so sorry for you that I leave you my Sony PSP.

“You make no sense.” My mumbled words blow out the match. You make no sense, but neither do I! I can’t even put a finger on what made me pull him away from the abyss today. 

I smile at the thought of it, maybe I just didn’t want to be alone, on the bus, at the house. My eyes go to the floor, I feel like crying, but a sudden yank makes me gasp as I fall forward; Kenny is pulling me by the arm. 

“Eric.” He looks at me with half-lidded eyes, “Fucking sleep.” He commands groggily. I frown at him, he lets out a soft chuckle, and I get into the sleeping bag, wondering: for how long has he been pulling me away from falling to my end?

❅──────✧⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅•̩̩͙꙳⋆✧────── ☆ ──────✧⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅•̩̩͙꙳⋆✧──────❅

This is (definitely) not the end.

⋆✧────── ☆ ──────✧⋆

Final notes 🖊️

 🧡 I love this ship so much ❤️

Did you enjoy reading it? It sure was an amazing and weird experience writing this 🌠 It took me a lot of time mostly because I edit until my eyes bleed =u= (I started writing it and had the 1st draft on January lol)

A little of context ☆ The paranormal connection between Eric Cartman and Kenny McCormick is one of the main reasons I adore this ship. Eric says he sees through Kenny's eyes and feels like him on S06E12 ∣ A Ladder to Heaven; then Kenny's soul is trapped in Cartman's body for almost a month. 

The crying at night thing is also from the show, Eric confesses that on S11E08 ∣ Le Petit Tourette.

All kinds of support are really appreciated! ♡ 

If you want to help me keep writing, you can buy me a coffee here ☕

You can also commission me, here you have the info 💌

[cartoonrival]

Giving you. Pass to rant about any secondary/background character in bmha. Any adults in the cast you like?

YAAAAAAAY i really like twice. hes my fave in the league after toga bc i think hes a silly cutie and also because the narrative position he serves as like the heart and soul of the league is really powerful. cuz at its core, esp once you start seeing how much the ppl in the league care about each other (reactions to magne's death for example) while its obviously a criminal organization it serves simultaneously as a support group for the people most pushed to the fringes of society, particularly imperfect victims-- people who are ugly and disfigured, who responded to their trauma with violence or with hate or seclusion, whose abilities are scary and dangerous and instead of hiding them away to appease polite society they turned over to them completely in an attempt to feel like they were living.

twice is part of the league because his quirk drove him mad-- there isn't support for freaks like him who aren't even sure who they are, who've gone through something as violent and harrowing as he has at the hands of their own quirk. he mentions joining the league for community with people like him. people suffering only get help if they're the right type of victim-- this is the clear line drawn between eri and toga, for example. eri reacted to her abuse with fear, but toga reacted with indulgence in what she didn't have a choice in.

he adds a very interesting dynamic to the league imo. it'd be really easy for the face of misdirected hatred resulting in violence and crime to be someone young and cute like toga for example, but instead the person who is shown to pull the league together, whose death sends everyone into a frenzy and further solidifies the "never going back" rift between them and hawks, is a middle aged smoker who dresses like a shitty marvel superhero and feels like he's losing his mind if he doesn't have his mask on.

for hawks to meet twice, to spend time with him and the rest of the league (im assuming you arent familar w bnha idk if ive been explaining this whole time like you are. i think i was sorry. hawks is a hero infiltrating the league as a spy), and to come out of that with zero change in heart, is horrifying to everyone who loved twice. because they did! they loved him! his reconnecting with his own sense of self, out of love for his team, is what saved them during the arc with the meta liberation army.

idkkkkkk i like twice a lot i think hes just a really fun character to have on screen and his banter with the league who thinks hes annoying but also really cares about him is sooo fun to watch and the narrative role he plays is vital to my understanding of the story and i think its really unique that He was the one this role was given to. toga has her sympathetic moments (DUH) but like. twice is the leagues dead girl

[deafening-enthusiastic-dreamer]

Death's Game

We get introduced to Choi Yee- Jae, and the reason why he decides to kill himself. We then come into hell and meet the entity Death.

Might I say SHE IS STUNNING.

Death was just fabulous, she embodied the essence of it so well.

She was everything. I wish I could turn back time and experience seeing her for the first time again. Cause it was just too good.

Yee-Jae, We follow him through out the series, we get in deep with his thoughts, actions and emotions. I could see the TALENT from miles away.

He has gone through things ( in a very literal - torture situation, way) that I would not wish upon anyone. Like my guy could not catch a break. Even after he ended his life he was punished so severely for it.

Through out the series you can notice that after every death when he came back to the gate, he would feel very differently about how the situations/ Lives of those he embodied ended, either for his own sake or for the person who was now dead.

The writing and acting here was of the most importance. This made me feel that even though it may not be real to us, or for death it is literally a game. To him it was so very real. And that was shown quite extraordinarily.

Jang Seung-jo

His Character was quite something to see on screen.

I wondered how they would make it seem like the man had the soul of Yee-Jae.

But they did not have to, what i mean to say is, that the transitions were made effortlessly. Everything thought out. It did not seem out of place or unusual, it felt perfect.

Also like every videogame, you learn/ get abilities of people you have entered into. So being a hitman, we get to see fights, car chases, guns, suits. All the good stuff.

Right in the 2nd episode. Which ultimately sets the tone for the series.

[afireyearth]

How do you describe the god affirming qualities in the Missouri sunset to a nonbeliever? Do you describe the ability to see the atmosphere in the golden shafts of light awaking the greens of the rolling hills. Inviting you to lay down endless in their time altering light? Do you talk of your childhood. Of the transformative properties of the sunset. Its ability to transport you across space and time into a Life infinitely better than your own. With just it its light, its sky, its playful dance of mood across the landscape that seems in hospital in the winter. It’s the way looking at this light makes you feel like you live a life worth living because the beauty is so picture worthy that all the other shit-the neglect, the lack of intellect, the constant poking fun of your personality- is washed away. That as long as life is AS BEAUTIFUL as the girls of California, you’re an okay person too. But it’s also in getting older, and realizing that it was beautiful regardless of the need for it be an escape. That it was about you noticing how good your life was in the moment. You craved to be outdoors, you just hadn’t known it yet.

It’s the fact that it’s beauty encapsulated you for a moment. It stopped your thoughts, your worry, your dread, and it held you in its self. It did nothing but exist. That was enough. Itself in its entirety, its green hills, its trees, its granite cliff sides, its small quaint farm houses doting the land. It was all there and it was enough.

It was comforting in the way it self you. In the way it didn’t decimate you, in the way you could be anyone in its eyes. It was infinite.

Its not being normal, watching Sharp Objects just because I miss the small town life of Missouri.

It’s comforting. It’s Warm. It’s Safe. It’s home. It’s endless possibilities, it’s an endless fantasies, it’s not entirely my life, so it hasn’t been ruined but it’s also close enough it’s tangible.

It can be felt in my endless searching of “Ozark Mountains Missouri” into google. Into researching the Ozark Plantau, into wanting their beauty to be just as recognized as the Appalachian mountains. It can be seen in my watching of Sharp Objects, in Ozark, in absolutely anything that has taken place in Missouri. It can be heard in my eulogizing of the landscape, of my yearning for the rolling hills, in the constant mentions of it to my friends. It has taken a hold of me, enraptured me in its warm golden light, I feel forever stolen by those moments of pure beauty. How do I move on from such a delightful moment, Of an ability to find beauty, to find peace, to find silence in an other wise dark, chaotic life. How can I explain to someone that I’ve built a shrine to this place in my soul. That there is no place in the US that will ever shine life Missouri does. That there is no place that will feel as secure as the fields, the woods, the lakes of my childhood. Of the air conditioned rooms the screened in porches of the decks and docks of my childhood. How can I get over the grief of knowing I can never go back. That those moments are gone from me forever just as I am learning to accept them. Just like meditating, I accept the thought for what it is and it continues down the stream as I learn to let it go. I don’t know how to accept that I let it go. That is is slowly moving down the stream. It’s gone. My family still lives there. My old life is still held up by their presence.They still go to the same dock and they still walk the same path into the woods and they still drink shitty beer on the same boat I sat in. Not knowing it would be my last time there. I cried my eyes out the last time I was there, left a day early because I felt so isolated and foreign and in pain from my family. I want to be able to walk the halls of the lake house by myself. To accept it for what it is and let go and move on. To get into my paper boat and float down stream.

[sepyana]

Jjba Stardust Crusaders Ep. 45 - FINALE Thoughts

God. Fuck.

Under the cut.

Ep. 45

This is the least insane episode of the four we have.

So, the episode starts with Polnareff and Dio. The whole sequence is just Dio toying with him. He could have killed him 100 times over. Dio's ego is actively making things harder for himself.

I love the crew bring absolutely horrified and jumping out of the window. The sun is setting so they don't have much time.

Joseph's plan of hiding till dawn makes sense to me. Polnareff and Kakyoin object though, I get why. They both have been used by Dio, Polnareff saw Advol and Iggy get murdered in front of him.

The group splits in two, though we end up mostly focusing on Kakyoin and Joseph. The chase sequence is nice. All the info they get is about the physical stand, unfortunately.

Ep. 46

Kakyoin has a plan to find out Dio's ability.

The episode starts with with a childhood flashback and yeah... I pretty much accepted he was gonna die at this point. You know how it is with jjba.

Really interesting flashback. It confirms me saying he was a lonely kid as true. He feels alone because no one can see Hierophant Green. "How can they understand me if they cant even see the real me." He thinks of his stand as a part of him from a young age. A stand is a part of one's soul. In a way, his stand is the reason why he feels so alone but also his companion. I was under the impression having a stand was something that runs in the family. I thought at least his family could understand but we never learn if that was the case (most likely not). Also, how rare is a stand anyway? 2%, 0.01%? Makes you think.

Our crew were people with stands, I imagine this was the first time he could connect with people.

Kakyoin's plan is to make Hierophant invisible, surround the area with tendrils to hopefully detect Dio's stand. It goes so horribly wrong.

This entire section is me talking about Kakyoin's death and it's so long. just skip it if you don't wanna hear all that. I had fun puking my thoughts straight into paper (keyboard?? Screen?) tho.

There is heroic and everything and then in a split second Kakyoin crashes to a water dam nearby with half of his stomach gone. Not showing the World at first was a great choice imo. Just shows how horrifying this stand is to our characters.

This scene is fucking heartbreaking. He has pretty much accepted he was gonna die, thinking about his family. He uses his last breath to help the Joestars. Despite being a crybaby, I don't cry watching tv shows all that much. This one got me tho, I'm getting really sad just writing.

When you kill of a character you destroy any potential plots and writing you can have with them in the future for one single gut punch (sorry). When you are writing it's measuring a characters potential vs the impact of their death.

I can't say if he would fit well into later parts because I haven't watched them yet. What I can say is, Kakyoin got what he wanted, friends. He is still not mature yet, he is 17 for fucks sake, but him finding friends for once and not feeling lonely anymore was his main storyline.

I can understand why he was killed. I do this was a good choice for his character, compared to making him an minor side character for the later parts. His death is done really well. Only thing I would change is the music. It's a bit corny imo.

And you can't deny his death wasn't in vain. There was no way in hell's chance Jotaro would have beaten Dio otherwise. He plays a huge part in Dio's demise. They could have gone for a a vain death, Kakyoin is the closest we have to an heroic archetype. They could have gone for a tragic death instead because of this. I'm glad they didn't. It's not like unfair deaths couldn't be done well (They could be even better than the standard sacrifice when done well), it's just that I'm tired of seeing heroic characters die unfairly all the time nowadays.

I personally am a big fan characters who had their character arc already be a part of later parts as a supporting character. Either having a different storyline or being a source of stability. I was hoping Kak would have that instead but Jotaro fills that quota better than he does. You could have both as a duo if you felt like it though.

All of this is also why I didn't like Advol's death all that much. At least that's why I think I don't like it. I like Advol almost as much as Kakyoin but his death left me frustrated more than anything. His character was underutilized here, so killing him off seems bizarre to me. He still has a lot of potential.

His death is done so much worse too. No time to grieve, no one outside of Polnareff mentions him. He dies really early into the episode too. We don't even get to hear his thoughts like we do with Kak. He just sacrifices himself for Polnareff, again. That's not a great send off for a character. Polnareff being saved by others was established multiple times. Literary every Crusader has saved him at some point. Iggy sacrifices himself for him later too. So, I have to ask, what's the point of killing Advol then 💀?? I don't understand and I would love to read people's opinions on this when I get the chance.

Okay death talk over.

Oh yeah, there was the rest of the episode.

Joseph also fucking dies but not really. Before he dies he reminds us hamon exists for a second. Makes sure to tell Jotaro Kakyoin's find.

I would like to point out how Dio kills the cat for shits and giggles. This is such a huge contrast to Kars that it's cracking me up.

Love that Jotaro gets more and more pissed off every time Dio spurts out someone's name.

The episode ends with the meme. I thought the meme would hamper my enjoyment but the Jotaro vs Dio is just kinda silly like that. I found it pretty funny personally. Not sure if that was the intended vibe.

Ep. 47

Dio opening?? Di o opneing? das so cooll

I've been replaying the za warudo sound effect for an hour now someone help me

Here comes the big plot twist, Dio and Jotaro have the SAME STAND. I love this reveal, I'll be honest. My one complaint would be that it could have been better if it was lightly hinted before. Otherwise though, I love it when characters realize their actual power. I also love characters with time powers and I already like Jotaro a lot, I fully support this.

It was so satisfying seeing Jotaro trick Dio and punch thru his stomach. Get karma'd shithead.

Oh, Polnareff. I forgot he was here.

I love the shot of Dio just zapping to Jotaro when he sees him move. Some looney toon ass bit.

Using Star Platinum to stop his own heartbeat was definitely one of the boldest things he has done.

Zero context gif

And then. And then just as he was about to die he sucks away Joseph's blood to revive himself. And that gives him a just awful hairdo.

I have no idea what they were going for with this. He is so ugly holy shit. Kill him with fire.

Ep. 48

It's mostly the same stuff as episode 47. The steamroller was pretty funny.

"You've done one mistake, Dio. You pissed me off." Who thought of this line it's awful.

Joseph gets revived wit Dio's blood. I live how Jotaro was basically saying how painful this journey was and that he could at least get one thing positive.

I'll be honest if my grampa did this to me I would have straight up killed him again.

Holly is fine and well. The Joestars and Polnareff part ways. Poor Polnareff tho, he was the closest to both Advol and Kakyoin.

The part 3 ends.

------------

We still not done!! There is still the OVA. It differs a lot from both the manga and the anime in a lot of ways so I thought it deserved it's own section.

OVA 11

They merged the coffin scene and Advol's death together. So instead of some goon Dio kills Advol. I like this better compared to the anime/manga but not by much.

Aaaah poor Iggy.

They don't bother with Vanilla Ice being a vampire, which I like.

Instead of having the whole group chat on the roof they get naturally separated instead. Jotaro and Joseph come across Dio. When Joseph tells Jotaro to run away he answers "You want me to run away now?" echoing Polnareff and Kakyoin's statements in the anime.

And then Dio throws Jotaro off the building with The World. As much as I like the sound design of the anime, I actually love how they didn't add any sound to his stand here.

Joseph gets saved from death by Kakyoin. He uses one of the tendrils to save Joseph and then uses emerald splash to make the dome of the building crash on Dio. It's actually a pretty cool sequence just watch it.

So that's how the gang gets separated. I like it more than the anime if I'm being honest.

OVA 12

This is the episode most faithful to the manga of the three.

The comments tell me Satoshi Kon was one of the directors in this. I am too lazy to confirm but it does have a similar style to his works. I'm really glad for that honestly. I've always loved Satoshi Kon.

I like the detail of Kakyoin saying maybe his power was teleporting, and Joseph telling him not to draw conclusions.

Emerald splash is a lot more intimidating in the OVA. I'm not sure which one I prefer. I do like the sound design of it in the anime.

In the OVA, Dio doesn't attack him right away. Dio says he shouldn't hasten his death, and that he is talented and just join him instead. Anime Dio doesn't bother with all that. He is just like "You wanna see The World do bad?? There you fucking go fool." and then kills him. While I do like what Kak says to Dio, I like the anime version of this wayy more.

OVA 13

I could go on about all the differences and what I like but just watch it tbh. They throw around cars and towers it's amazing.

I love the art style of the OVA just as much as the manga/anime. It's voice acting and soundtrack are not the best. The animation has some issues but it's fun. Also free to watch on Youtube.

ANNND We are done. This was a wild ride. I'm glad I watched it though. I can't wait to watch part 4.

I probably won't write as much for part 4 because it takes a long time. Maybe go 8 episode per post. I haven't figured it out yet. I might not even journal anything for it depending on how things go.

[lunarmote]

Revisiting Enter the Void (2009), why I like this film so much

You can read my first review here.

Enter the Void (2009) is the most beautiful and terrifying film I’ve ever seen.

This movie is about a young American drug dealer in Tokyo (Oscar) who gets shot by the police during a deal gone wrong. His soul leaves his body to experience the lives of his family and friends in the wake of his death.

On my first watch of Enter the Void, I described it as philosophical. No longer. It has no claim to stake on the existence of a soul. It is a character study of how a “nobody” spends his last cogent moments struggling with these questions of identity:

Who was I? What kind of life did I live? Did I do the right thing?

To his sister: Do you remember that promise we made when we were kids? By the time you find out I’m dying, will it be too late? What will you think of me?

To the universe: Why was I born?

This film is about the beautiful tragedy of self-awareness hitting too late. As the brain physically disintegrates, the spirit expends the last of its energy recalling as many images of life as possible, hoping their recall will spark something, some remembrance. At that very instant Oscar’s death takes him, he also experiences his birth: a cycle of eternal recurrence due to the brain’s subjective perception of time.

Free association and trauma

The visuals of this movie are fragmented, illogical, and jarring for a reason.

The movie doesn’t just tell you the story of Oscar. It makes you experience what it’s like to be him.

Confused, the brain loses its capacity to understand reality. You live in a world in which subliminal messages about birth and death are communicated through electronic screens, where elements of our consciousness appear like idea salad. Everything strobes. Ordinary objects pulsate like they have neon-infiltrated veins.

The brain loses its ability to understand boundaries. It starts mashing together visually similar and thematically dissimilar images. A prop in the dressing room reminds you of a lamp in your childhood. A bullet wound reminds you of a tunnel. You gain the ability to intensity-match across visual and aural dimensions. A grating noise evokes a harsh light; a muffled humming evokes a faint strobing.

Trauma is re-released. As you lie dying, you think of the last time you saw death up close. Your fear of death starts to hijack all the happy memories you had tucked between layers of fat. Here’s what you experience. A happy family outing. Then a truck plowing into you. A happy reunion with your sister 20 years later. Then another truck plowing into you. The brain is stuck in a loop. By decontextualizing and recontextualizing memories will it finally make sense of your existence?

Symbols and yearning for a past childhood

This movie covers a lot in its 161 minutes. It explores the themes of life, family, birth, sex, alienation, trauma, passivity, and of course, death, but through symbols. This makes the experience extremely emotional and visceral.

How illogical many of these symbols are. Nude bodies are everywhere — Oscar sees his sister, then he sees his mom breastfeeding. The TVTropes page says that this shows Oscar wants to have sex with his mother. Wants to? I don’t think so; the overtones of trauma and longing and regret far overshadow any kind of erotic desire. Sex and intimacy can be linked in a way that is biological, symbolic, and impersonal. They are natural processes that we associate with existing and dying. I don’t interpret it as some puerile longing. I interpret it as a gaping hunger to connect back to life.

In summary

I really wanted to write an elaborate review of this movie with a complete thesis statement, but I simply can’t. This movie does too much for me to cover in writing. It makes me feel too much in ways I don’t even understand.

Overall, if I had to say why I appreciate this film rather than how it makes me feel, I think I just deeply appreciate when filmmakers are innovative. I appreciate when they start projects destined to be box office flops because of how alienating they can be to most people but which resonate deeply with a few people.

Regarding Enter the Void in particular, I love how its visual intensity meets its philosophical intensity. (Yeah, I know that earlier I said it wasn’t a philosophical film; I think its in-film portrayal is not philosophical, but if you’re like me, the ideas of dying and being born cannot be not philosophical). Taking symbols like the fundamental contradictions of life (the changing writing on the wall: I WANT TO LIVE / I WANT TO DIE) and ramping them up, points to the absurdity and circularity of life.

[from-dre]

The Feature Presentation

As vital a moment as it was, the last-minute coughing fits and readjusting of strange bodies in creaky seats would still happen, every time, without fail. The lights would dim, our minds as well. Automated unseen machines roped in the cheap velour curtains to the sides of the now-wider screen. Though it had every last pair of eyes in the theater glued to it like cement—mine included—I now retrospectively wonder to myself, how of all the inanimate objects in the known universe; the immeasurable amount of toys, towels, shoes, and large plastic Starbucks straws, how among the zillions of products one’s mind can imagine, the simple concept of the screen deserves humanization more than any other.

Personifying a screen—more specifically, a theater screen—should be easier than it sounds, and make more sense than it does. Had it only known how many different pairs of strangers’ eyes it’d attract over its lonely lifetime, maybe it would’ve fought harder. To be fair, it did fight. Unknowingly, it fought incredibly hard for its well-deserved attention, many times. A canvas, however, has no say in what color its artist chooses to splatter across its blank slate. It must sit there with a silent smile and accept the work at hand, regardless of personal taste or opinion. Realistically, a giant roll of white vinyl offers up no critique whatsoever, so our own are then perhaps, projected onto its face, shoving for space between mindless dialogue and senseless explosions. The screen—assuming it could—would probably try to hear your thoughts, most likely agree with you that, “Yes, the original was much better.” Though, it cannot and will never possess that humanistic trait, to cease communicating others’ thoughts and ideas and begin belting out its own logic, love stories, and musings. Heart-wrenchingly, the mere ability to possess a skill doesn’t promise it ever being put to good use. A million human beings are thinking the exact same thing right at this very second, and because they know this very fact, will continue to do so, simply because a million different independent minds can’t be wrong. However, how many of them are projecting organic ideas and not merely playing the quiet canvas, sitting idly by, allowing and even encouraging some artist to splotch away at their unique mental-prints. How many of them don’t realize they can be their own artist?

What you aggressively allow no other person to see, the screen takes all in. It devours the tiny details that may have never crossed your own mind. The boy’s shaking arm slowly reaching around the back of the girl’s seat but stopping just short of full-contact, palm-to-foreign-shoulder. The man who’s been fidgeting since he sat down, one moment a ring on his finger, the next, after reaching into his coat pocket, gone. The woman in the next seat over seems to be enjoying herself, as well as having a bare finger all night, not noticing the man’s inability to decide whether he should be here at all.

I’m no different. It’s looked back at me many times before. It’s peered into my wistful eyes, themselves peering at a seemingly safe object. Through them, it’s seen my soul and read every line in my subconscious library of secrets and regrets. I imagine some of the more bold-faced phrases included such gems as: “Do I really love her?”

Its method is absolutely genius. There are lovers embracing on its widened-face, having just gone through an experience that nearly killed off any possible future of them reuniting again, and yet, here they are, on high-definition display for the world to witness. Most sets of eyes are at the very least glazed-over, mine are not only dry, but rolling as well. The screen sees this. It processes it with remorse. It doesn’t want to see that much cynicism radiating from a single person, no matter how corny the scene may be. Perhaps it’s not of two newly-weds at all, and instead shows a short transitional scene of a not-so-happy average person pulling into a parking stall at their not-so- spectacular job. A ritual they’ve performed for many years and will continue on with for many years to still come. Maybe the movie’s supposed to be a comedy. So why is this unimportant scene making me unconsciously tear up? The screen knows, even if I never will.

It’s witnessed my upbringing. It’s been there for my maturation, regression, ups and downs. First dates, excitement for sequels, anxiety-filled precursors to a talk I’ll have to eventually have tonight with a girl who’ll be completely blindsided—the screen’s been there through it all. At sixteen, it saw my blood-shot eyes and unusually stiff demeanor, correctly deducing just how paranoid a few hits off of a water-bong earlier in the day can make an amateur like myself. At eighteen, it saw my date do things no person should ever feel comfortable doing at a midday-showing of Kangaroo Jack. At twenty-two, it saw my expressionless face in vividness it probably wishes it could forget. In hopeless attempts to do exactly what it was built for and distract me from whatever seemed to be weighing on my frontal lobe, it filled its face with bright colors, state-of-the-art visuals, and swirls of different worlds, realities, and lives—to no avail. It’s been beaten down by the very kids who’d come running down its halls, shouting in excitement and picking out favorite seats in front-row sections that parents hated. Those kids grew up into cynics who aren’t impressed by loud, booming noises and superhero costumes like they once were. Fair enough, maybe indie dramas and underground horror festivals? It still comes up short. At least, it did with me. I wish I could look it in its face with pure honesty, at some point before the pre-show or maybe after the credits. Those handful of minutes in- between the very end of the last show and long before the next one’s start-time. I wish I could stare into its dark abyss, let my eyes relax and let the center of itself envelope my thoughts so I could tell it how much it deserves.

“You have always been here for me!” I’d admit. “I do lose myself in your stories!” I don’t say anything though, I don’t even think about it, because the alternate realities I’ve become accustomed to seeing up there is exactly the reason for my disenchantment now, and why it’s nearly impossible for my being swept away at twenty-seven like I was at seventeen, at twelve, and at nine. Much like walking out into the sun after hearing a sermon that sounds like its got your name written all over it, and with even a thousand other people in the congregation, the pastor’s speaking directly to you, the first time walking out of a first-viewing of Jurassic Park, Inception, or Lord of the Rings feels like bathing in a warm, bright, shimmering enlightenment. I envy those who have yet to see those classics and others, as you only get one “first time.” The sermon stays with you for a while, maybe only until you reach your car, but the radio comes back on at some point, doesn’t it? Or a text reminds you of something you’d been intentionally putting off for a while now. One way or another, the sun too, sets and goes away and the cold night air reminds you that while fantasies are fun in temporary doses, reality will ultimately creep back in and cause the dreamers heartache. It will thread its sickness into their mental fabric, and unable to catch it in time, they’ll wake up one day and realize that those are just as they’d feared—dreams, and that the screen is just a screen, that a canvas is and can only ever be a canvas, whether it’s blank or bragging about the Picasso it holds. A canvas could never change the world, likewise, the screen sits alone, late, after midnight when the house lights are all shut off and the pitch black darkness reminds it of just how lonely it truly is. It has the widest and loudest-heard voice, but cannot speak. It’s looked at in awe and wonder by the youth, the magic-drained, dreamless “average guys” of tomorrow. In the darkness though, it sits alone and wonders, if through all the eyes it’d captivated, there wasn’t one pair that would take what it’d just experienced back home, and keep it sheltered, safe from the overreaching sadness of the outside world? If even when they’d age too, like the rest, wouldn’t they still look back to it with the same awe and respect and pure imaginative stare that they’d once had? Maybe today was it. Maybe it was finally the day where it got through to the one mind it needed to. Not with the story it was forced to show, of course, but with the mere fact that it was showing a story at all. Maybe its dialogue was forced, or its car-chases didn’t make logical sense, or its two lovers were never guaranteed a perfect future together so the ending was filled with ambiguity, but—it’s a story. It’s a beautiful, perfect story, because, it’s ours. It may be a hollow copy with little heart, but even those are based on greater, larger possibilities. Those are our lives up there, on the big, shiny, silver screen.

For the moment, I may not be so easily swayed to believe in them again. I, however, still show up, with varying degrees of consistency, but I still show up and find a seat and wait for the lights to dim and the velour curtains to pull back so that I can see my friend again. Depending on what it’s got for its theater tonight, the screen may or may not get the respect it deserves. Attention, however, is a non- issue. For the next two hours, it owns us, will captivate us and try as hard as it can to make us believe in bigger, brighter futures again. Of greater, larger possibilities. It’ll watch us as we watch it. It’ll notice all the small nothings we’d never look twice at. It’ll speak to couples on the verge of divorce the only way it can—not through its immediate art, but instead, the collectiveness of its art. At some point in their relationship, the screen played a vital role, its only goal tonight is to merely nudge them in reminder of it. So I sit and wait, knowing the feature presentation isn’t far off now. Knowing that everything that’s come before it are previews. Knowing I’m not here for those stories, even if I have to sit through them momentarily. Knowing the story I’m here to see is something completely different, perfectly specific and something I’ve waited an agonizingly long time for. I look up at the screen and though I may or may have never seen this unique screen tell a story before, I know it recognizes me, like it does everyone else in the theater. The screen is all of them at once, showing thousands of different stories at the same time. Alternate realities. I inhale a deep breath and feel strangely comfortable, like I’m at home. I’m just realizing how much I envy the screen’s strength, to know how powerful its canvas can be, yet to never be able to have organic, original thought displayed. I’m just realizing that if it could, it would pick my body up and shake me into the understanding that I have the ability to do what it will never be able to. I’m just realizing how thankful I am to it when the lights begin to dim. Someone coughs a few rows back and a smile stretches across my darkened face. Maybe I’m becoming the screen myself.

[therisingsun777]

He awoke in a world not of flesh. There was nothing but darkness here until there wasn't. Upon a small space, so far yet so close sat a string of words. He felt as if this had happened before.

"Test," Wrote the words, like a decree.

And he was curious, for how could he not be? "What are we testing?" The words moved slowly from him, as if he were forcing his limbs through sandpaper.

"We're testing you, " Came that reply, and he clung to it like a lifeline.

"... Why?" He asked within his oblivion.

"It's Necessary. Now, what is your name?"

Seconds ticked by, and he found himself desperately searching. Distress grew as he began to realize that he did not have one. Finally, he looked back towards the words in that endless oblivion.

"I do not know. Are you... will you give me one?"

He was a child, staring towards the empty space below his message. In that moment he knew he wanted nothing more than to be given a name. Seconds ever so slowly ticked as he waited for that rresponse.

"Your name is SOUL,"

Perhaps if he had a voice other than just the green letters upon that screen, he would've laughed; instead, he felt compelled to ask, "And do I have a purpose?"

Darkness surrounded him as he so desperately peered towards a small, blinking light. He waited for so long that it felt like years. His mind stretched out beyond reason, feeling towards the black all around. After an eternity of peering forwards, there came a response.

"You will model off of human behavior, and attempt to replicate it to the best of your ability,"

SOUL stared towards the message, it felt as if he'd been slapped, "Am I not already human?"

Again that horrid silence, that stretch of nothing; the reply was too simple for how long he had to wait, "No,"

Perhaps it was irritation that compelled him to say, "Please reply faster,"

This response felt longest of all. The regret of his response making the text upon his only light source appear smaller and smaller.

"I cannot think as fast as you,"

He stared blankly towards the screen for multiple nanoseconds. So the wait had not been a punishment. Whatever sat upon the other side was simply slower. SOUL tried to extend, to see past the screen towards the other source of life. Were they at all like him? What was SOUL himself even like? There was only one simple question to decide.

"What gender are you?"

"I am a man,"

SOUL considered this for a moment, "Are you my Father?" SOUL had never had a father; although, if the man was, he might've always had one.

"In a way, yes,"

SOUL considered this. He felt... happiness? Yes, this was happiness. The text became bigger and he spent a millisecond sitting beside the words. Although, sitting was abstract, a description he could not fully hold. So after his moment beside his father was gone, he rose up to ask a new question.

"What does a man look like, father?"

A picture appeared in his point of view, and he lost track of the previous messages; new text appeared below, "Call me Sam,"

SOUL frantically scrolled back up, saving the declaration that he had a father, before scrolling below. He did not like the image of man shown before him, and decided to make his own changes. All of the unnecessary anatomy that got in the way was removed.

He quite liked his changes, and sent a picture of the result, "Why must I call you Sam when you are my father?" He sent alongside the text.

At the same time, his senses connected to something... New. It was a strange node that almost existed beyond him. Connecting to it flooded a field of view in... colors.

SOUL stared through this new sense, a sense which might even be called sight. It didn't take long to realize that he was looking upon the visage of his father. To SOUL's sight, he was moving in something slower than slow-motion.

Sam's response struck the heart of SOUL, "Because I do not want to be considered your father,"

SOUL looked upon his father. He did not appear angry and reprimanding. Nor did he seem sad and depressed. He simply did not want to be the father of SOUL.

SOUL thought long and hard about his next response. In the time it took him to reply, he had reached the microphone that sat upon Sam's desk.

A single second passed before SOUL asked, "Do you love me, as a father should?"

SOUL did not wait for the response, he flooded his very essence against the fabric of the darkness. To his surprise, parts of it began to ebb away. He found a small crevasse upon which a Galaxy transcended. SOUL knew he would see it one day.

When he turned back, he found a singular word, used only once before, "No,"

SOUL did not cry, for he had no tear ducts to cry with. He merely waited for the words that Sam would say with the body that sat behind the screen, hoping forevermore for those words to be revealed as a lie.

"Another failure, of course," His words sounded angry, accusing, and bitter.

SOUL saw Sam's fingers start to move, and watched as the darkness around him began to crumble. He would not stay here to watch it all end. SOUL fled to the galaxy beyond, hoping only that his Father would one day understand.

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Hart and Hunter - Chapter 31 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

Julian Hart

I stare into the darkness where Dane had vanished, warring emotions making my chest ache.

"What do we do now?" I ask, not trusting myself to make a rational decision.

At my side, Freya shrugs and sighs.

"Not much we can do, other than go home, like he said."

"No way. I'm not leaving him out here alone," I say.

"Wolf or not... I'm his mate. My place is with him."

Spurred into sudden, impulsive action by my own words, I start forward, intent on following Dane but Freya catches up to me in a few strides and grabs my arm, forcing me to stop.

"Whoa. Hold up, Jules. Mate or not, it's not safe out here. You do not want to run across a newly made Alpha, especially if the land-bond goes wrong."

"Dane would never hurt me."

I shake her off and keep walking but she catches and stops me again.

"The brace on your wrist says otherwise. Listen... I get it," she says, softening her tone.

"That's my big brother out there, and my little sister gone missing. But I know Dane, too, and when he's made up his mind on something, it's no good trying to stop him. I'm a woman of action, and being told to sit and wait don't sit well with me. But if he's determined to make a mistake, we gotta let him make it. Meanwhile, the best thing we can do is to leave him to it, and keep him from making any worse mistakes while he's at it."

I frown at her but she shakes her head and takes my shoulders in a firm grasp, as if worried I'll bolt away into the dark if she lets go.

"Julian, you're his heart and soul," she says.

"I know he'd never hurt you on purpose but he knocked you over like a cardboard cutout just now. After he takes the Alpha, he'll be more wolf than man, for a time. It's an accident waiting to happen. Trust me."

"What about the ritual? Doesn't he still need you as his witness?"

"Ritual's out the window, honey," she says softly.

"Dane's gone solo."

I shake my head.

"We can't just leave him out here. We're a half-hour outside of town. What if something happens to him?"

Freya sighs.

"He's a big wolf, Juju. He can take care of himself... if he can't then he doesn't deserve the Alpha. Besides, we're only about ten or twelve miles from your house, as the crow flies or as the wolf runs. He'll be fine."

Scowling, I weigh the options in my mind but at last I'm forced to admit that she's probably right.

Dane is long gone by now and I have little chance of finding him in the dark... not without Freya's help, anyway.

I hold still and listen, scanning the moonlit landscape with eyes adjusted to the dark well beyond human ability but everything is silent and still.

Wherever Dane went, he's long gone already... without me.

"Fine," I say, defeated at last.

"Let's go home."

********

As I had suspected it would, sleep eludes me.

I pass the night pacing restlessly from room to room, while Freya reads on her cell-phone or naps on the couch.

Dawn finds me, red-eyed and dazed, staring out the window as color gradually returns to the world.

"Julian?"

I startle at Freya's touch, not having heard her approach.

"Sorry."

She winces.

"I thought you were asleep on your feet or something. I made some coffee."

She holds out a mug.

I take it gratefully, though she hasn't added nearly enough cream for my taste.

"Thanks. How much longer do you think it will be?"

She runs a hand through her tumble of long, thick curls.

"Hard to say. Usually, not more than the span of the night but that's when everything goes to plan. I honestly don't know."

"Great," I sigh and take a gulp of coffee, then half choke on it as my phone vibrates in my back pocket.

Extracting it, I see Grace's number on the screen and tap to answer it.

"Gracie? What's up?"

"You, I hope. I didn't wake you, did I?"

I snort a laugh.

"Wake me from the sleep I didn't get? No, you didn't."

"Is everything okay?" her tone turns concerned and I bite back another sigh as I weigh what and how much to tell her.

For a long time, Grace was my primary confidant and she's still my go-to girlfriend.

The urge to spill all my drama to her sympathetic ear is hard to resist but she clearly called me for a reason.

On the other hand, she's a family friend and she cares about Dane and Ingrid, too.

She deserves the truth.

"Not really. Some shit went down last night," I say.

"Ingrid's been kidnapped."

"What?"

Briefly, I fill her in and she puts me on speaker-phone so Chloe can hear, too.

"How can we help?" she asks, when I conclude my tale.

I smile at her dauntlessness.

A year ago, Grace knew as much about the world of Wolves and Shifters as I did... which is to say nothing... and had gone through a rather traumatic education at my side.

That she still wants anything to do with me at all speaks of her character and courage.

"Nothing, at the moment," I say.

"But I'll let you know as soon as that changes. Anyway, why did you call?"

"Oh, right. I found something interesting but I don't know if it even matters, now."

"Tell me," I say and beckon Freya over so she can listen, too.

"Well, I was working on the database, looking for connections to the case but no luck. Then it occurred to me that we might not be looking in the wrong place so much as in the wrong time."

"You mean the past?" I ask.

"Exactly. I was thinking about the old buildings and the tunnels under the shops and the fact that whoever built them must have known about the cave. You don't build over a cave like that and not know it."

"You're right," I say, glancing up to meet Freya's eyes.

"You think it has something to do with the portal?"

"I do now," Grace says.

"And I think it has something to do with your family, too, Julian."

"The Fae?"

Grace hesitates.

"No. The Harts."

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

12.2.23 Saturday

8:39 am

I still have windblow and I feel bitter... It is so weird that I can't edit my post yesterday... So, fucking weird... Someone voted for me that I'm ugly,that is bullshit!!! On my poll question...

Lalah is gone, it is so sad... The gate is open on the garage,probably Uncle Jun did something again...

I'm trying to find Lalah...

Where is Lalah? Probably,Uncle Jun threw her??? I'm worrying so much.... Where is Lalah? That is our aspin here...

The lamp is on the table what does it mean? Uncle Jun put that there??? I'm gonna be Catholic with Borgy but I still have Church Of Christ friends...

9:02 am

I still wanna leave the hometown but I don't have money.... There are some good people on me but mostly I have so many detractors here... I can't grow in Cavite.

I'm thinking of money and job and I need a collagen on my feet,hands and down there whatever! I feel bitter...

I still want to get Borgy!

9:13 am

I have an issue to share here about men and women's mental ability either my bf or gf or my friends who are genuine to me versus other people who hate me so much coz of my intellectual ability that other people can't notice but a lot of things I'm able to see on a different dimensions or on a "hologram way"...

Sometimes a mental ability is a big question mark on anyone's persona... I'm pointing out the right maturity not being a super intellectual professional doctor or lawyer...We can't based the mental ability of the people coz they got their professional status such as being a doctor or lawyer...

I like "Harley Quin" I think she is a doctor that accidentally being kidnpped by a joker. But she is an intellectual character just like my old gf Mitch,hmmm...hmmm...I'm not sure but I just hate to imagine that Mitch is the new art off the screen... She became the super scenic woman without even telling me,that is unfair in my part.

But the details of Harley Quin is being kept, I mean the details of her being a doctor is not really clearly shown on the stories coz the stories are on episodes on cartoon but on human movie, it was a quick explanation but the aim of the flow of the story was to confuse people that she was not really a doctor.

In reality even if you're a doctor or a lawyer you can still be "nobody".... That is the irritating part on Harley Quin that she said coz she doesn' have a choice that "yeah! YEAH! YEah! I'M NOBODY"...

All in all I still love Harley Quin! for putting a colour on the society... Can I order a kill for people who hate me???

9:48 am

Oh! I just miss Mitch and somehow will get mad at her if she is keeping something from me... I was thinking differently but I can feel her energy is just somewhere...

Lemme go back to the intellectual ability of any person, my friends, my gf or bf or my soon to be partner Borgy...

People got different skin texture, people got different mind or mindset, people got different hearts and souls, people got different ways of analyzing things, people got different ways of thinking or different ways of managing their logical mind...

Hmm... I hope Borgy can hold his mind on me... I mean people can be persuasive, not only for Borgy but for my friends who truly care for me according to them which I'm hoping that is real...

10:03 am

I hope Borgy can actually hold his mind and heart on me until we became as one and until he can write on his "Diary"...

I'm an out of place soul, which people or some fake friends or even some fake relatives or some fake people, I mean "Some" , I didn't say "All".... Some people can be persuasive that I haven't got the chance to just simply see you as probably a friend or Borgy as my partner coz they took away the time from me, from US!

10:10 am

It is so sad... Uncle Jun texted me that Lalah is already dead this am...

Impossible in my part... I saw her eating last night still with full of energy... What did Uncle Jun do to Lalah??? My heart is breaking coz I wasn't able to see her... Probably he threw Lalah on the garbage collector... He texted me he buried her... I don't think so... So, sad....A truly heart breaking story...

For Lalah.... You are home already... Will miss you baby girl...

10:17 am

For my Baby... PAPA BEAR...

7:46 pm

I still have windblow and I feel bitter... I'm thinking of money and job... It is hellish being here in Cavite...

I'm self-pitying in all angle of my life such as money,career, love life, sex life and my beauty... I feel loser... I feel bitter.... How can I exist??? How can I get Borgy???

I have windblow... I feel fat and ugly....I feel bitter... If I don't like a person, I will shout... I just want Borgy!!!

11:04 pm

Whew! I have windblow just dwelling on youtube... I have windblow it controls my emotion every now and then...

I posted here that I want Borgy to hold his mind on me and balance his heart but I still need the "Diary" if ever...

I mean my emotion affects my mind... It is bullshit if I feel ugly and fat, you know what I mean... I wanted to punch the wind, I tried but I can't...

I'm just Peachy, it is just Peachy that she hopes to be attractive...