#the fact that you are railroaded into decisions…

[discard-celestia]

USE MOUTHWASH / DO NOTHING

[victoryai]

VENUS💕AND 💕 THE 💕TYPE💕OF 💕LADY💕 YOU 💕ARE💕.

Venus in a woman's chart explains the type of lady she is when it comes to matters of the heart 🫀. How she acts when in love and how she displays her feminine role. If you're a guy, understanding your lady's Venus would really help!💕.

Plsssssssss note that theses are my experiences with the Venus signs, no offense 🤕😂.

♈ Venus in Aries:Let's all say "fiery lady" together. 1...... 2...... 3...... FIERY LADY!!!.

This is a fiery one indeed and when she is in love she most likely makes the first move to approach the fellow. She is bold and she knows what it is she wants. She will not beat around the bush. She has attitude wft 😒 and believe me when I say when this lady loves you, she will do sh*t for you. Like beat someone up lol 😂 . The way she expresses her love makes single people jealous 😒. The downside of this is that she can be crazy 🤣 for you dis minute , the next minute she might want out of the relationship 😒 but don't let her go!😭

♉ Venus in Taurus: Let's all say "luxury queen" together. 1...... 2...... 3..... LUXURY QUEEN!!!

Girllllllll..... You like money 🤑!! You like Food 🥑!! and You have an amazing voice 🎤!! buh you know what else, most of you are stingy 😒. This is the lady who will stick with you if you can provide her every need. Take her to that restaurant, buy that jewelry, just name it and she will adore you. This girls loveee to eat too, make her fav meal. When it comes to love, she like to stay sensible and make grounded decisions often thinking if he can provide a safe abode for her. They want baby girl treatment lol 😂. Just like Bulls, they are very stubborn when they make their decisions. Did I forget to say, they are pretty 😍

♊ Venus in Gemini: Let's all say"chit chat queen" together. 1....... 2...... 3..... CHIT CHAT QUEEN!!!. She never gets tired of talking and talking and talking. If you're looking for a partner and best friend, then you're def looking for her. She's not hard to understand, she only wants you to constantly text her and check up on her, take her to that concert of her fav musician and she will go to the moon and back for you!. She'd really love it for you to compose a song about her and get along with her friends too!.

In love she acts like a kid actually, gifts you little notes and whatnot and makes you listen to all her gossip for the day😂💕😩.

♋ Venus in Cancer:Let's all say"baby 🍼" together. 1.......2.......3....... BABY!!😂.

Such a softie. All she wants is for you to give her your time. Stay indoors together,cook, cuddle on the couch, little hugs here and there. She wants you to understand her and be able to cope with her feelings' . she kinda gets attached too soon if you do all these for her and starts thinking of having a family life with you😭. Imagining how the kids will be running round' the courtyard waiting for their Papa to get back 🤭. So cheeky . pls don't hurt her😭. In love, she thinks with her heart considering how you treat her and your relationship with her family and yours as well ❤️‍🩹 and how private you can be!

♌ Venus in Leo:Let's all say "actress" together. 1.......2.......3...... ACTRESS!!!.

Uhh 😬 she is an actress ! She doesn't like when you don't notice her new lipstick 💄 or her new outfit! It upsets the hell outta her. She wants you to be like "WOAH 😳😳😨 You look so gorgeous 🥰!! even if she just woke up😒😂. Likeee she's literally so dramatic because she wants your attention and she wants to be the only thought in your head 😆. She wants you to show her off to the world. Stand on the railroad and shout " this is my girl...... stay away cos I love her!!🤭😒.

She wants to be the mother of your kids and live a life of fun with you. Forget the fact that she's always dramatic, she will stand by you!.

♍ Venus in Virgo: Let's all say Ma'am together.1.......2......3...... MA'AM!!! .

Oh my word!! How perfect she thinks she is amazes the world 😂. She literally wants everything step by step 🪜. Their love for procedure is something to admire. . So she wants everything according to her *to do list* and you better not wear dirty clothes when coming to pick her up cos she will sniff you out lol 😂. In love she'll literally remember every single detail of you, what you like, your type of coffee, your fav color etc, she'd help you out with daily stuff and problems like where to shop, what brand to buy, cleaning your apartment, paying for stuff etc. Virgo venuses are so clean wtf . She would help you with chores while scolding at the same time lol 😂 , make sure you're fine and don't eat junk!, takes you for check up everytime 😚🤭. The 💊 pills she gives are love portions 🥺☺️

♎ Venus in Libra: Let's all say "woman" together. 1......2.....3..... WOMAN!!!

Ooh yeah!😆👠this is a typical woman!. She is pretty, she is accommodative, she is nice, she is all. The downside of this could be that she is too tolerating . All she wants from you is that you act like a real man, take up your responsibilities, defend her and treat her right! This baby doesn't really need much 🥺 she just want the basic things and nothing more. In love she is level headed and balanced. Pls marry her😭.

♏ Venus in Scorpio: Let's all say "Miss intense" together. 1.....2....3.....MISS INTENSE!!!.

Hmm this lady wants all of you, your soul your life, your body , your commitment and your cash 😭😂 lol.

She wants you to be all in or all out. She wants to be the first to hear that secret you haven't told a soul. She wants collaboration. She wants to work with your whole being in sync with her. She wants to share everything with you that you guys can't differentiate what's who's anymore.... She is an invader into the depths of your heart 😭🫀. She loves, she really loves!!.

♐ Venus in Sagittarius:Let's all say "adventuress". 1.....2....3.... ADVENTURESS!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOW 🔥 . This ladies are soooo on fire 🔥. And her sense of humor is top notch 👌😊. I assure she will make your life fun 😂. The type to wanna have long talks and gossips in between . Be mentally rich in all her fav topics and she would never leave you. She is the type to experiment with people though! She might date you because she wants to write a research on how fat guys behave on dates 😂😂. Apart from these all she might be very religious though and won't hear a word against her beliefs. I mean she is so intelligent 🧠🤓 omg 😱. In love, she would take you round the world or round her imaginations 🤭.

♑ Venus in Capricorn:Let's all say "Boss" together. 1..... 2.... 3... BOSS!!!.

This is a high class babe 😚 she ain't gonna lower her standards so work harder. In love she knows what exactly she wants and she won't settle for less! She might be a well known lady or someone people look up to. She's strategic and knows when to make the right hit 🎯. She's handled responsibility at a young age and now she's very much refined. If you met her in her thirties you might think she's lying 😚🤭. Practical and long term are the words.

♒ Venus in Aquarius: Let's all say "eccentrika". 1....2....3....ECCENTRIKA!!!

She does love you! Yes she loves you but. with a little bit of hesitation!😉 Because she remembers that the internet told her not to trust no one 😂. In love, she acts too normal... which is dislikable😭, so most people say shes detached and whatnot 🤕 but . She loves techy stuff and all, new age technologies are glued to her eyeballs. If you wanna get her?be in her friend group first, buy her a headphone, talk to her and follow her on Instagram, like and repost her stuff😂😂😂😂 and fight for what she fights for 😭.

♓ Venus in Pisces: Let's all say "Too Good" together. 1....2.....3.....TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE".

She's too good too be true, too soft to be true, too dreamy to be from this world. She's all too good 🌬️🍃. She's too forgiving, too 🙂 nice makes me wanna 😭 cry. In love she will live/die for you. She will go the extra mile if she has to. Love makes her kinda high. She will tolerate you and will feel what you feel. She's too lazy to stay mad at you for long 😂🥰 She gets addicted to love eventually. If you cheat on her she knows, gets depressed 😔 and forgives you, that's how much she loves you 😭

She loves with all her heart 🫀and brain 🧠. She's so pretty 🌬️.

Hold on I'll answer your ask! 😭

©Victoryai2025

Don't steal my work and don't repost on other apps

[mwolf0epsilon]

I got bored waiting for my brother's therapy session to end, so here's a vague description of every TTTE Movie premise in order of release:

Thomas and the Magic Railroad - Sugar, Spice and a lot of Crack Cocaine gives us the most whimsical nonsensical Thomas adjacent adventure.

Calling All Engines - Love thy neighbours, or suffer the most horrific existential nightmares ever (no seriously).

The Great Discovery - Thomas gets ostracised because he's a jealous self-saboutaging little shit, and other repeating little blue tank engine motifs.

Hero of the Rails - In which yet another engine puts into question the existing timeline, oh and Spencer hates old people for petty reasons...

Misty Island Rescue - Thomas does not, in fact, make good decisions.

Day of the Diesels - Neglect causes needless problems for everyone involved, especially if they're not the fat controller...

Blue Mountain Mystery - Communication is key to problem resolution, but hiding in a cave for several years is much easier I guess!

King of the Railway - Old man spotted! Very exciting news for the Old Man Appreciation Brigade!

Tale of the Brave - James woke up and chose violence, and it becomes everyone else's problem. Also something about fossils or whatever...

The Adventure Begins - What if we re-did the entire first season, changed a few things, and made it a nicely animated movie? 10/10.

Legend of the Lost Treasure - No one ever taught Thomas about Stranger Danger, also his jealous self-saboutaging ways get him in trouble yet again.

The Great Race - Thomas nearly causes an international scandal because of one-sided beef, also Gordon almost dies. The Flying Scotsman is in this one tho, so all good!

Journey Beyond Sodor - James chose violence 2, electric boogaloo. Oh and can someone teach Thomas about Stranger Danger already? Next thing you know he'll follow some race car on an ill-conceived trip around the wor--

Big World Big Adventure - Australian Lightning McQueen breaks several traffic laws, Thomas's crew is probably wanted internationally for crossing borders without papers, and a homeless tank engine from Kenya decides a British island is the perfect place to move to...

[unveiling-unguarding]

Veilguard pulls so many punches, but perhaps the worst punch to pull is not allowing the player to properly contend with the fact that Rook, for all their good intentions, unleashed a double blight on Thedas. There are what, maybe two or three dialogue options in the entire game you can choose for Rook expressing any emotion about it? And each of them is glossed over faster than it takes for the VA to even deliver the lines.

It's especially egregious given that they're so very clearly trying to create parallels between Rook and Solas. But for what? All of the conversations have been written without taking into account anything the player might be interested in exploring further. Your options are so railroaded they might as well not exist. It's always in a rush to get to the next moment.

I can't help but compare this to how regret and trauma are treated in KotOR II. Now, granted there's a big difference there, with kotor being years after the fact and veilguard being in the midst of it all (not that the plot structure or companion quests ever really give you that impression). But in KotOR II you are given multiple opportunities to rebuke or justify the Jedi Exile's actions that led to the near destruction of the Mandalorians and the Jedi and even the Republic as well. Cataclysmic consequences for actions your character felt were necessary to save the world. And the entire game is about you either succumbing or moving past the regrets and trauma that resulted by perpetrating more selfish harm or helping communities heal.

Like, you can't just state that regret is a theme in the game and give the player no meaningful ways to reckon (or not) with regret over their character's actions. You can't assert there's a theme there you didn't bother to actually write. I'm certain they absolutely had it in mind as a theme when writing, but you as the player do not interact meaningfully with it until the Big Emotional Set Piece about Regret™. Until that point it's kind of like a light sprinkling of seasoning on the bland companion characterizations.

It's so frustrating to think back on this game, to try to meet it halfway, only for all the creative decisions to shrink away before you've even started to pry into it.

[utilitycaster]

Following on the last answer you gave about Laura/Ashley.

What I'm stuck on is that this fear of making a mistake is not a new thing? They've been like this for all of this campaign, note Ashley not wanting to take the shard, Laura's constant fear of letting Imogen's mom stay on the moon, etc. And to a degree, I get it! Exandria is a pretty expensive and important source material - there's an Amazon series!!! - and it's scary to make any huge decisions in it. Additionally, I understand the feeling that there's something specific that the DM wants and you're just not getting it. But I keep wondering, how hard is it for Matt to sit them down and be like. Fuck around man, it's fine! (Or even the opposite! Give them some railroads, they're all over the place!) You know? It just feels to me that Matt can solve so many of these problems outside the stream with a quick convo and I'm so confused why that's not happening.

(I didn't watch this episode completely because the discussion at the end was giving me a very bad case of secondhand embarrassment due to how stupid it was. So if this happened and I missed it, feel free to ignore this.)

Yeah that is where I am at, and this is the MOST speculative I will get to the point that I'm making it nonrebloggable but my personal guess is that like. I watched a LOT of interviews at the start of C2, as a new viewer who was looking for more stuff (which...ultimately just resulted in a C1 binge) and the cast was at the time very cognizant of wanting to prove C1 wasn't a fluke and that they could tell another great story in the world with new characters. But they also prepped EXTENSIVELY for it; and also, in this case, I think a lot of the world was in a somewhat more nebulous state (ie, I think Matt probably had the concept of an ancient archmage plotting to release a god-eater possibly that far back...but I think Liam's concept for Caleb very much influenced the nature of the Assembly and gave Matt a place to put proto-Ludinus).

I think that with two campaigns under their belt, I don't want to say they rested on their laurels, because as I've said repeatedly the caliber of the vast majority of other things they've put out has remained high. But I think that because Campaigns 1 and 2 came together so well Matt might not have realized that Campaign 3, and his fairly specific intended plot, required more work and different work. Like, it required the level of planning and railroading you see for dimension 20 seasons. Campaign 2 could meander and focus on characters because the main goal it needed to achieve in a presumably 3 campaign story was worldbuilding, and I wonder if the fact that it diverged almost entirely from Matt's vision and still came out great obfuscated the fact that this wouldn't work for C3. Campaign 3 really needed to have realized and invested characters right out the gate with knowledge of the world. Like, I think it could have been solved with a conversation but I also think that there's been some sufficient "wtf" choices (bringing in Abu as the Arch Heart without any specific guidelines is one that comes to mind) that I wonder if the cast has entirely internalized how much this doesn't cohere narratively. And also, to be fair, I've played in D&D campaigns that didn't have a great plot or really any at all but I was having enough fun hanging out with my friends that I didn't really care, and since we weren't being filmed it didn't matter. It's a lot easier to see this stuff from the outside, is my thought. I don't think it's hard in terms of time and effort, but also, I know I kept thinking "oh HERE'S the course correction, finally!" pretty much up until the last ten or so episodes. I wouldn't be surprised if he kept thinking "surely this will pull together."

[catenary-chad]

AC/DC is a VERY smart song, one of the reasons it’s my favorite lyrically in the show is that it’s so explicitly about electric trains and has multiple references to super interesting issues/traits with them. This doesn’t go into the broader electricity puns (which are shockingly versatile), just the ones most relevant to trains

“Feel my magnetism”

I’m still trying to figure out if this is an issue with remotely modern electric trains and motors, but I have heard a claim about a turn of the century New York Central S-motor (one of the very first mass produced electric locomotives!) basically “picking up and stealing” some tools left near the track this way and then dropping them when switched off.  Basically the whole “pulling in things with magnetism” has at least some real life precedent with trains.  

“AC/DC it’s okay by me/ I can switch and change my frequency”

This was perhaps the defining feature of the CC 40100 Electra’s helmet was based on.  Due to inconsistent electrification systems (due to early 20th century tech limits) it’s very common to have 2,3, even 4 voltage locomotives and EMUs since it’s cheaper and easier than replacing all that infrastructure.  Having both AC and DC compatibility is actually super old, the New Haven Railroad had one of the first AC-powered lines ever and the very first AC locomotives there had to be equipped for both it and the existing DC third rail in other sections.  But being able to run on multiple AC frequencies is much more recent, and the CC 40100 was an early example of it.  The Northeast Corridor in the US actually requires trains capable of running on THREE different AC voltages/frequencies, being able to “change your frequency” is an important requirement there (and in continental Europe)  

Basically, silly 70s-80s era bi allusions are just how electric trains are.  It’s so out there but so on the nose.  It’s probably the single smartest writing decision of the show because it works so well and talking train media otherwise NEVER talks about these aspects of electrification.  

“I can shock you, I can set you on fire”

The history of diesel and electric trains involves so, so much spontaneous combustion.  Exploding is almost exclusively a steam engine thing, but if they wanted to dramatically kill Electra or Greaseball or any of the Nationals, this is always an option and weirdly underused.  

“I can reach up and pluck down the lightning/watch the conductor, see the live wire”

Direct reference to overhead electrification and how pantographs are raised to make contact.   Also fun play on train conductor/electrical conductor, which is popular in trolley/train jokes.  This system is something almost exclusive to trains and part of why they are so established, efficient, widespread and convenient as electric vehicles.  They’re genuinely absurdly OP vs basically all other forms of traction since they don’t have to carry their own fuel/power supply and can have ridiculously high single-unit power since the only limit is how much capacity the power grid has (and how much can be practically used without wheelslip).  Due to their fixed paths they can run this way vs needing batteries and totally bypass the decades of density limits those had.  Even today batteries are not really practical as a main power source for anything bigger than commuter EMUs and switchers.  

(Trolleybuses are a thing and there’s been attempts at sticking pantographs on trucks… and I guess bumper cars technically count too lol) 

Shoutout to Stexico for having a very different chorus with somehow the exact same sentiment. 

“Macho/Hembra es mi conector” (Male/Female is my connector)

This is just a hilariously matter of fact statement about the electrical connections on AAR standard passenger engines and coaches, which I think Mexico uses since their rail system is so US-based but I could be wrong (privatization axed basically all their passenger services around the time Stexico came out and there’s very little even today).  The stuff about “with my switch I connect you” is also incredibly matter of fact because there’s usually a separate switch or dial to turn on head end power on locomotives.  

Electra is based on this very 70s bi stereotype/trope that lumps in the botanical definition of “bisexual” and makes characters “both male and female” in a way that’s inconsistently trans, GNC, and/or literally being 50/50 both in a way that doesn’t work that way in humans.  Velvet von Ragnar from Never Too Young to Die is almost IDENTICAL in this regard as another example.  But the hilarious thing is that it’s just… incredibly matter of fact and literal when applied to electric trains because so many of them are able to run on both AC and DC power because rail electrification is so messy and many of them are technically “both male and female” going off electrical connections.

Anyways, tangent aside

I do not know enough German to appreciate the intricacies of stuff like word choice or idioms in the translated lyrics but these ones are fun because they’re explicitly about overhead wires

“Steh unter Spannung”

I’ve seen the translation given as “I’m a live wire” but the more literal one seems to be “stand under tension/power/voltage”. “Tension” is often used in place of “voltage” especially outside of English, but there’s a fun double meaning with trains specifically. The allusion to voltage/power in overhead wire is obvious, but  literal catenary wire tension is also SO important specifically in rail electrification.  The wire has to be tight and straight enough to make proper contact with the pantograph (and getting the upwards pressure on those is also important).  Europe has mostly reasonably modern lines with adjustable weights to keep wire tension constant but the northeast US has HUGE issues with outdated systems with fixed wires that sag in the heat (then get snagged on pantographs and torn down) or snap in the cold when they shrink/expand.

“Ein Griff von mir” (A grip of mine)

“Holt den Blitz aus der Leitung,” (Takes the lightning out of the wire)

Also seems to be a direct reference to pantograph pressure/contact with overhead lines, similar to the English version of this line.  There’s a strong hand/arm association with pantographs in general due to their design, modern ones bend in arm-like ways and “touch” the wire in a very particular way.

Also this is probably just wild coincidence but “Griff” makes me laugh because Zaine Griff was the workshop Electra.  

[sinisterexaggerator]

I finally beat Fallout 4!

I sided with the Railroad and destroyed both the Institute and the Brotherhood, basing my decision on the fact that:

A) The Brotherhood fucked with my Ghoul husband and made fun of him.

B) The Institute threw my darling Synth boyfriend out with the trash and hurt his feelings.

You fuck with my men, you gotta answer to me (sole)!

[glitter-stained]

I know you probably aren't familiar with the character, but thinking about DC and mental health and John Constantine.

Hellblazer comics lead, magician, con man, seriously messed up life.

I'm pretty sure he's the only (semi) heroic DC character who is explicitly shown with the 'ugly' kind of mental illness, and has spent time in a mental hospital as a patient.

Constantine's backstory involves an exorcism attempt by teenaged Constantine and friends horribly backfiring. What regular people see is Constantine stumbling out of a house full of corpses, holding a little girl's severed arm and babbling frantically about demons and hell.

Obviously he gets railroaded as responsible for all the deaths, and ends up in Ravenscar hospital - basically Arkham in UK, only more tough to escape from.

There's a lot of scenes where he is treated horribly - beaten up by guards, the doctors ignoring his injuries, unnecessary drugging, all that. Everyone feels he deserves it, because as far as they know, he murdered half a dozen people, including a five year old.

Even Constantine, talking in retrospect, feels he deserved all that - though in his case it's because he made a horribly wrong decision while sane, and caused the kid to be dragged to hell.

The actual diagnosis is never stated, but he is clinically insane for at least a while - apparently as the result of the mindbreaking trauma that happened during the botched exorcism.

There's a couple of incidents where he's basically dragged out of the hospital (usually by bad guys) to deal with some magical crisis or the other, all the while protesting that he is not okay, that he needs the meds, needs the hospital.

And when he is released from the hospital to an outpatient program basically for cost cutting than because he was better, he is shown begging to be let back in. A lot of his issues stem from not getting the help when it was needed - and that, given his power, lead to worse decisions and spirals.

There's a lot of fics which have Constantine involved with the Batfamily. Haven't seen one go into the premise, but the potential... His attitude towards Arkham or the Rogues... Towards how mentally ill dangerous criminals are treated, given he himself was in the role of the mentally ill dangerous criminal once...

I am in fact familiar with Constantine's character, rest assured his ass is sitting patiently in my waiting room for when I'm finished with Jason, Cass and probably Mia. Yeah, the waiting room's a little bit crowded btw, we're not taking any admissions for the moment.

[waitmyturtles]

Hot Take: Be On Cloud and Sammon out GMMTV-ed GMMTV with that lame-ass 4 Minutes finale

(TW: Ummm, this ended up being a rant, so don't read this if you enjoyed that finale.)

WOW.

This is not the central thesis of this post at all, but I need to get this off my chest, FIRST OF AWL: GET AN ORIGINAL OST. WOW.

LIKE, ACTUALLY, I want to not get into this, but I actually need to talk about this for a second. ICONIC OSTs like, SAY, "Why Don't You Stay" or "Just Friend" (OR THE DARK BLUE KISS THEME SONG, THE BEST ONE) are meant to invoke THE SHOW FROM WHICH THAT SONG HAILS, AND THE FEELINGS THAT THAT PARTICULAR SHOW MADE ONE FEEL. WHAT THE FUCK WAS 4 MINUTES THINKING?! THIS SHOW WAS NOT KINNPORSCHE. NOT AT ALL. I FELT NO KP FROM 4 MINUTES. I hope Jeff Satur sues BOC for copyright infringement. ANYWAY.

I mean, this is gonna be messy, but in yet another case of shippy roooooomance, a kind of rooooomance that's supposed to leave us feeling like the central couple is worth redeeming against both the obstacles that the story gives them, AND/OR a weak script as well (I wrote about this recently during a rewatch of The Eclipse), I mean, BOC and Sammon just threw an otherwise really amazing storyline to the dogs.

We were supposed to get a lot of moral and ethical loops closed here. I would have been okay with a Ton Kla redemption! I would have been okay with Korn living the rest of his life in pain and suffering for neglecting Ton Kla! Instead, they're both "redeemed" by their own deaths?! I get Win being upset, but Win, you knew who you were sleeping with! Come awn!

AND. I'm supposed to believe that Great is worth redemption because he threw a corrupt government minister under the bus and prevented his parents from coming back to Thailand, while we see him walking away from a woman having a heart attack???? Like, THAT'S NOT GOOD!!!! He's had a messy life, but he's not necessarily a good person, folks!!! HELLO!!! "He's a good person?!" TYME?? Like, Great's hot, BUT LIKE, DON'T BE LIKE THAT, TYME, GURL, ACTUALLY LOOK THRU AT WHO YOU'RE DATING.

ALSO, TYME, HIPPOCRATIC OATH, DUDE. I KNOW YOU WANT THAT GUY DEAD, AND HE DESERVES BAD THINGS, BUT YOU CAN'T MAIM HIM PURPOSELY, HOMEY, YOU'RE ABOUT TO BECOME A PROFESSOR.

And LIKE, WHAT THE FUCK, putting a whole new story point about Warit's kidnapping from some dude named Wanchai who we don't even know, and finding out that Warit is a general?!?! It was JUST CONFUSING.

Also, Den dating a patient. I know medical ethics are probably different in Thailand, but they cannot be THAT DIFFERENT, friends, they can't (right? right?).

And. Finally. TYME GOT SHOT MULTIPLE TIMES IN THE CHEST AREA. He survived after two months of recovery?! HE SURVIVED POINT-BLANK SHOOTING?!?!?!??!?!?! AND GREAT SURVIVED HIS POINT-BLANK SHOOTING, TOO?!?!?!?!

LISTEN. LISTEN. I get that BOC wants GreatTyme together. JesBible are a good pair. It's fine Great and Tyme are together. It's nice.

But there was an ACTUAL storyline, told WONDERFULLY for seven episodes, that had these characters in moral and ethical chokeholds that could have received different and very much more appropriate endings. This is fiction, of course, but the moral and ethical prisons these characters were in were very real-to-life by way of what humans value, and how you balance those values against the real-time decisions that humans need to make for themselves and their families.

Instead, BOC took the wild GMMTV playbook of late (The Eclipse, 23.5, Only Friends, Wandee Goodday, even Last Twilight and My Precious) and just railroaded ethical explorations for, my GAWD, guitars and boats. GUITARS AND BOATS! If either Great or Tyme had died, how would the story have expressed regret, uncommunicated feelings, unsolved mysteries?

The ending sucked the mystery out of this series, and frankly, made light of the fact that we were not in a Series Y for seven-eighths of a runtime, only to truly suck us back into Y territory -- real, sugary, cheesy Y territory, GUITARS, THE KP OST OMG -- that just clashed with the tonality of what was shaping up to be a great queer crime murder mystery show. GMMTV already does this. BOC did not need to go there.

Funny that some of us are watching Kidnap now, and commenting (I'm stealing @shortpplfedup's words here) that Kidnap is not a crime BL, but a crime BL. Kidnap knows what it is: it is shaping up to be a fun, unserious Y series that's centered around two himbos not really understanding the consequences of their decisions, and being googly while doing it. It seems to be taking its unseriousness seriously. Good on GMMTV for taking initiative there.

4 Minutes? 4 Minutes needs moral closure, not sappy romance. I could have used a hint that we were gonna get punked earlier. I wouldn't have taken this show as seriously as I did if I had known otherwise.

[loganelfreeces]

Neither Path is Wrong

Something I really love about Akari in this chapter is that even as she's talking about taking her own path, she doesn't act like the other path is wrong.

Akari doesn't act like her father is wrong to have that idea that he should be working, or that the women in her family are bad for not leaving home to chase their dreams and not raise kids. She fully acknowledges that it's not a bad or a good way to live, it's just another way to live.

It's a railroad track, clear of debre, with open fields all around and a very nice way to live. There's nothing wrong with taking the train and relying on the tracks and the machines to carry you forward. In fact it offers a wonderful view and a clear path to your final destination, the ability to know what's coming forward.

But there's also nothing wrong wtih Akari taking her own path.

It's far more dangerous, with dark thorny brambles and bushes hiding the future from you. You can only navigate through it one patient step at a time, unable to see too far ahead of you. You have to rely on your own two feet and the very careful manuvering of your hands to avoid getting too badly cut, though it's inevitable in this path.

And I think it's really important and really mature of Akari to have this attitude actually, because so many "feminist" characters or "working women" characters act like being stuck at home is the Wrong Decision, it's the Bad Decision, it's the Decision A Woman Makes When She's Supporting The Patriarchy. I'm not as informed about Japan's issues with women's rights and feminism and other things like that, so I'm not sure if Akari's stance is the expected one in Japan or a nice break from tradition as well.

I just love Akari so fucking much and I will not let you people sleep on her in her introductory arc.

We are so fucking blessed to have her and if bowlcut bastard hurts her I'm gonna fuck him up.

[mask131]

American Gods rant: The Boys we could have had

I have a lot, a LOT of things to say about American Gods as a whole, and as I promise I shall sprinkle these rants like raindrops. After talking about Easter, today I want to talk about the Technical Boy - as a character within the show... Within season 2 to be more exact.

In season 1 of the TV show American Gods, we were shown that "the Technical Boy", god of computers, got a big visual update. From an overweight, acneic, awkwardly-social teenager in the original novel (reflecting the stereotypes of computer-geeks and nerds in the 90s) he became this young hyperviolent tech-bro of extravagant artificial fashions, reflecting how a god of computer and technology in the 2010s is WAY more powerful, influential and "cool" than he would have been in the 90s.

There has been a lot of talks about this change of design and appearance already, so I won't return to it... Except I'll maybe add this little detail that people who have not looked at additional material and bonus content for the show might not know - every costume of the Technical Boy in season 1 was designed with entirely artificial, un-natural materials, with a true effort by the costume-makers to create outfits that could not have existed were we not in the mid 2010s. Which is a excellent way of representing what Technical Boy is about - and what the New Gods as a whole are about (the subtle and delicate things costume-makers can introduce within characters' wardrobes is absolutely insane for me).

However I do not want to speak here of season 1's Technical Boy... But of season 2's Technical Boy, and about an element of the character that was... half-cut out of the season.

As you all know, when Fuller and Green left the show after season 1 various actors left in support, including Gillian Anderson, the actress for Media. Now, to replace Media with just another actress would have been very VERY easy since Media's whole deal is that she is a shapeshifter and an entity possessing fictional characters - in the novel she literaly manifests as the entire main cast of Cheers, so to have her sport a different face wouldn't be too illogical... Hell you could have started the habit of her having a different actor every season... But anyway, they rather preferred to introduce an in-universe reason for Media's actress to change by showing her evolve into New Media... A decision which has a lot of pro and cons, I will admit, and that needs an entire other post to discuss. But one that is very interesting because it affected the Technical Boy's own character journey...

Indeed, by introducing Media evolving into New Media, season 2 made the purposeful decision to stress a detail that has been a core part of the New Gods' entire shtick since the novel, but wasn't very much exploited by Gaiman... It is something mostly dropped by the finale and not really explored (it should have been presented a bit more in advance if you ask my opinion), even though it is one of the big reasons we are supposed to sympathize for the Moderns - and I do believe the show made a very good move in deciding to highlight this fact (even though maybe Media becoming New Media is more questionable). And this thing is, the short life-span of the New Gods.

In the novel it is mostly alluded to or vaguely exposed through mentions of the railroad baron-deity being on hard times and various of the Modern Gods (implied to be of television or cinema) only glowing by their own light, soon to fade... With Shadow stressing out that one of the reasons the New Gods are so arrogant and power-hungry and disdainful is precisely because of how easily and quickly they fade away and become irrelevant, compared to the Old Gods who had millenia of worship and religion to back them up. This is why they bite so easily into the "If we get rid of the Old Gods we will have more faith-resource for us" offer of Mr. World.

And season 2 explored this a lot, in fact it basically was supposed to be the main arc for the New Gods. With Old Media (classic cinema, deceased singers) evolving into a New Media, embodying notably social media - and said New Media entering into a competition and rivalry with the Technical Boy, who embodies modern technology and computers. This results in Technical Boy being considered "outdated" and being replaced by a new version... We only glimpse it by the finale of season 2, and season 3 literaly retcon this for no obvious reason (AAAARRRGGGHHH), but the culmination of Tech Boy's arc is that he becomes Quantum Boy, a deity embodying even more cutting edge technology (like quantum computers) and a certain faith in transhumanism, it seems...

Another costume trivia drop, revealed by Tech Boy's actor Bruce Langley: the strange suit Quantum Boy wears is actually a cooling-system, referring how quantum computers require a LOT of cooling to properly work... Again, I think it is a very cool detail. And it makes kind of "logical" the idea that his new form was so "unstable" that the "update failed" by season 3... But it doesn't remove the fact it makes one go "WTF we went through an entire character arc for it to just be removed from one season to the next? TRY TO HAVE SOME CONTINUITY DAMN IT why the heck are your throwing away a whole season"

Now, not only do we see the Technical Boy "upgrade" as Quantum Boy, but we also have an entire episode revealing that Technical Boy had a previous life, an older incarnation in the 1930s as "Telephone Boy" - thus foreshadowing, preparing the idea that the Technical Boy is a much older deity than one would think, and that he had "upgrades" through human generations.

Now, all I said above was in the show proper, but there's a lot of content out-of-series or removed from the series that expand upon this much further... At one of the public talks promoting the upcoming season 2, it was Neil Gaiman who explained that he had talked with the writers of season 2 and it resulted in the idea of exploring the many lives of the Technical Boy - because unlike in the novel, where the Technical Boy is "merely" the god of the computers and Internet of the 90s, in the TV show the Technical Boy is a god of technology as a whole, and there was this very VERY clever idea that he modifies/changes/upgrades/replaces himself, through strange metamorphosis, with every generation, to embody what is the "cutting-edge" technology of the time... Gaiman notably listed (it is unclear if this is canon or him just throwing examples) Telegraph Boy - Telephone Boy - Television Boy, as previous lives of the Technical Boy.

This also notably, in retrospective, makes his name truly clever. Because the "technical boy"'s original name was not "clever". Heck it wasn't even his actual name in the novel. He got called "the kid" or "the fat kid" more often than "the technical boy", and while he did get called this (and the gods of technology are nikcnamed the "techies" if I recall well), it is actually a nod to Johnny Mnemonic rather than an ACTUAL proper name... (In fact, this is part of a nice little theory I saw on TV Tropes that Technical Boy in the novel probably would look like a teenage, overweight version of Keanu Reeves, because he shapes himself after movies Reeves starred into - taking his name from Johnny Mnemonic and his outfit from the Matrix). But by deciding that the Technical Boy gets "reborn" or "upgraded" every generation, his name makes TOTAL ABSOLUTE SENSE in the best way ever!

Because he is the "boy of technology". He is never allowed to fully mature, to grow old, he remains a "young" god as he can only exist for maybe only two decades at most before being replaced by a newer, shinier, younger self. The telegraph is replaced by the telephone which is replaced by the television, etc, etc...

We know for a fact that the original plans for season 2 would have highlighted and exposed far more of this "Tech Boy evolution". Indeed, season 2 suffered from the same turn of fate as season 1, with planned episodes having to be cut at the last minute... If you remember the various promotional pictures and trailers for season 2 you might remember seeing shots and images that never appeared in the show proper... That's because we know that a certain episode was actually created by smashing together two halves of very distinct episodes... With the remaining, fully shot, fully edited halves being just dumped away. They are not even available as bonus features on the DVD, they are currently fully lost media... Entire sequences dumped into oblivion

And these sequences would have involved much more scenes of the Technical Boy... Most notably we had one entirely new incarnation of the Technical Boy that was removed. Well, "new" not really... the TV show's equivalent of the novel-version of Tech Boy. Indeed, a behind-the-scenes promotional video (still on Youtube) showed us the stage for a planned sequence with Technical Boy never shot... And an entire makeup of Bruce Langley in a fat suit was first posted by Colin Penman (the guy behind the AG special effects, and the special effects of various other shows) before being removed (probably due to copyright reasons), and then years later reposted by Bruce Langley. These videos and shots revealed that, as a nod to the Technical Boy from the book, we would have had a second "previous life" of the Technical Boy, just like Telephone Boy, who would have been an overweight young man surrounded by video-games of the 80s and 90s. I started jokingly referring to this incarnation as "Game Boy", but I do consider this a half-serious theory, because we do have the appearance of a Game Boy (the product) in the actual season 2, in the episode showing the "manifestation" of Technical Boy, and given the "fat kid" Boy was VERY very clearly an entity of video games and game consoles... It makes sense to have a literal "Game Boy"... X)

All of that to say... I really REALLY love this concept. Especially with how, had the "Game Boy" deleted scene been kept it, it would have resulted in season 2 offering a literal meta-commentary and pointing out the evolution from the novel with its late 90s setting to the show's mid 2010s one... And in general I really like this concept of a "generational spirit" that reflects the fast evolution of time. I only saw this concept being used once elsewhere, and it was in the comic book "Astro City" where you have a spirit of counter-culture manifesting through generational counter-culture music... And thus evolving with each decade, going from Mr Cakewalk to Jazzbaby to the Bouncing Beatnik, and existing in identities such as the Halcyon Hippie, Zootsuit, Glamora, etc, etc... And I think it is a really neat concept!

[eluminium]

WOOO! WE MADE IT LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND EVERYONE IN BETWEEN AND OUTSIDE! SKIZZ WEEK 2 DAY 7!!! YIPPIE! Can't believe I managed to actually get all the days! Crazy ngl. As your reward, and mine, have some Imp and Skizz being silly and dancing with each other. Is it platonic or romantic? Eh, that's up to your interpretation.

AS ALWAYS BUT DIFFERENT, thank you to @skizzlemanweek for organizing this round of Skizz Week! It was really fun to do! You better go to their blog and look at the other Skizz Week 2 creations when you're done here!

Prompt 7: Free day!

It's not often Skizz finds himself in an environment like this. Specifically, he hasn't been at an off-server party in lord knows how long. He got most of his partying out of his system by the time he was 25, if not even earlier. So excuse him if he's a bit rusty, he's doing his best. His best being standing on the sidelines with a glass of overly fancy strong cider in his hand and watching the whippersnappers have fun on the dance floor. The noise of people having fun and partying is music to his ears, if a bit loud. Above him, beautiful light shows play out in the dark sky to the beat of the generic but still bopping music discs the DJ is playing. The massive and beautifully decorated Decision Dome stands proudly in the background.

He's honestly grateful that they're outside, not just because of the beautiful view but because it keeps the temperature comfortable. Back in his day, they used to party in whatever run-down shack they could find, and those turned into SAUNAS by the end. And they were TIGHT too, which sucked for a guy like him, with his clumsily large wing span. Said wings puff up at the memory and he makes sure to stretch them out just to bask in the fact that he has enough personal space to do that without knocking someone flat on their ass! It may not be fully fair to compare those parties to this one though, considering this isn't just some random party. This is the afterparty of one of the biggest events in the multiverse. MCC. Of course, it would be a bit fancier!

Skizz brings the glass to his lips and takes a tasteful sip. The refreshing taste of pear hits his tastebuds gracefully, hiding the mild but fulfilling taste of popped chorus fruit. The alcohol leaves its familiar burn as he swallows, his eyes wandering back to the dance floor. It's like a little rainbow in there, everyone's color-coordinated outfits blending together into a light show of its own. Various wings, tails, ears, horns, antlers, and other distinguishing features stick out of the crowd, clearly enjoying the opportunity to stretch out as much as Skizz. He can't help but smile, a sappy happiness rising in his chest at the sight. Although that may be the alcohol making him soft.

"Hey man, you thinkin' about something nice?"

Skizz looks to his side and meets a pair of kind chocolate brown eyes and a teasing grin. "Nah, not really Dipple Dop. Just enjoying the moment," he responds, patting the spot next to him. Impulse takes the hint and sits down next to him, a fresh new drink in his clawed grip. His second that night, surprisingly.

"Where's Top? Did he decide to head home with Etho?" Skizz asks when he notices a lack of firey hair anywhere nearby. Impulse takes a sip of his drink before he answers.

"No, he's still here. He got caught in a conversation with Cub about Railroad Rush. They're in the Dome, by the bar, if you're wondering."

"Aha, I see," Skizz responds with a nod. A little bit of pride hits him at the information. Usually, Tango avoids busy social events like the plague. It's nice to hear that he decided to stay a bit longer! As for Etho, there's no convincing him. He dipped as soon as it was socially acceptable. Mysterious as always, although maybe it's because many of the players here are Etho fans. Sounds like his worst nightmare to be stuck in a conversation with people who admire him and are probably drunk. Maybe he should consider not being as awesome then, but Skizz digresses.

Suddenly, a very familiar sound reaches his ears. Specifically, a song. He can't help but snort.

"Oh my god." Impulse says with a surprised and slightly flustered laugh as he also realizes what song they're playing.

It's an oldie, but a goodie. A tune from when they were but naive teenagers. But it's not the song itself that tickles Skizz's funnybone. It's the fact that, with this song, comes a specific dance that was all the rage back then. A partner dance. If you wanted a girlfriend, or a boyfriend back then, this was what you practiced to perfection before you took them to the club.

Oh, he remembers it like it was yesterday! How a soft-faced Impulse timidly approached him and asked him to be his practice dummy for the dance because he wasn't satisfied with just practicing it in front of a mirror and he really wanted to impress this one girl. And of course, a younger Skizz helped him out, after laughing at him for a minute for being such a cheesy romantic. He remembers every attempt, every re-try, and that's impressive because there were a LOT of them. Bless his best friend and his need for perfection.

Skizz meets Impulse's gaze again, and it's clear that he also had the exact same flashback. Skizz can't help but giggle, a giggle that turns into a full-blown laugh as Impulse covers his face with his hand.

"I'm never escaping this! It haunts me!" He exclaims as he takes a deep swig from his drink like a depressed alcoholic detective in a mystery movie.

Skizz has to wipe a tear from his eye with how hard he's laughing. "Come on, dude! You got SO good at it! You were great!"

Impulse gives him a playful glare. "Oh yeah, I got SO good at it, huh?" He shoots back, his voice dripping with salty sarcasm, which causes another bout of cackling from Skizz.

"It's not your fault she was a lesbian! If she wasn't I'm sure you would have had her smitten with your dance skills!" He knows he's rubbing salt in a decades-old closed-up wound but in his defense, it's funny.

Impulse struggles to hold his faux seriousness in the face of a torrent of Skizzleman laughing. "God, I still can't believe I didn't know! I was so in love yet I couldn't figure out something so obvious!" He says with a barely repressed snort.

Skizz's laughing eventually dies back down into giggling. "Come on, you were both still cool with each other after that! No harm, no foul."

"Yeah, except my dignity," Impuse quips in an overly whiney and weepy tone.

Skizz rolls his eyes fondly. "Shut up, man!" He fires back. They both giggle and Skizz takes a gulp of his cider. A comfortable silence settles between them as they both look back to the dance floor. Multiple people have paired up with each other for the song. Others have created some sort of three-people version of the dance. One is even a group of five! Makes sense that the dance has evolved to be more casual as the years have gone by. Now not just couples and potential couples get to enjoy it, but friends too!

However, there is one difference Skizz spots that he's less than impressed by.

"Wow, they kinda suck at this." Impulse dryly comments before Skizz can even say anything. He can't help but laugh at Impulse's uncharacteristically sharp observation. The booze is getting to him for sure.

"What, you think us old farts can do it better?" He pokes back with a raised eyebrow.

Impulse splutters a bit, borderline offended at the mere suggestion. "Yeah, obviously! They don't even know where their feet are!"

Skizz is content to laugh it off at this point. The song is basically over by now, so it's not like they'll get a chance to prove-

The sudden cries of "ENCORE! ENCORE! ENCORE!" force him to reevaluate. Well, that changes things quite drastically!

"You wanna go put your money where your mouth is, Dipple Dop?" He jokingly says, pretty sure he's gonna need more than just that if he wants to convince Impulse of anything. He has to swallow his prejudice when he meets Impulse's gaze one more time. His best friend's face is flushed from the alcohol, and his eyes are a bit glazed over. But even more terrifyingly, he can see that familiar glint of competitiveness in his eyes as well. And if Skizz is honest with himself, he can feel the buzz of his own drink clouding his brain. He's ready to make some questionable decisions.

Impulse doesn't even respond, he simply slams the rest of his drink, places the glass down, and starts walking towards the dance floor, tail whipping back and forth. Skizz quickly slams his own and follows him.

They get there just in time for the encore to start. Impulse lunges to grab Skizz's hands in time so they don't miss the rhythm. Skizz raises an amused eyebrow at his best friend's antics, and he gets an unimpressed look in return. Impulse's slightly scaled hands rub up against Skizz's scarred ones, but it's a feeling Skizz is extremely familiar with. It's like two puzzle pieces fitting together. Then the melody starts, and it's off to the races.

Skizz can't lie and say he isn't impressed by both himself and Impulse's ability to remember the motions. Moving around each other almost feels subconscious, each sway to the left and right perfectly timed. At first, they're both looking down at their feet to make sure they aren't stomping on something important, but they quickly realize they don't need to. Their gazes slowly connect instead, and a dumb goofy smile graces Impulse's face. Skizz feels himself responding with just as stupid of an expression, but he can't help it. It's like he's back in that memory again, except without any teenage awkwardness.

One step left, two steps right, twirl back around, two hands connected reaching for the stars above. It's silly, really. Two middle-aged men dancing in a crowd where the max age is early thirties, to an old love song, with a dance originally meant for wooing potential partners, after competing in the biggest competitive event in the multiverse. But Skizz never cared about useless details like that. He's having fun with his best friend, m'kay? And they're smoking the competition at the same time!

Skizz eventually gets lost in the motions, lost in orbiting around his other half in long-ago practiced steps. For all he cares, the only things that exist to him right now are Impulse, the music, and the ground they're standing on. His best friend's familiar marrone eyes keep his blue ones locked, and the few times their bodies graze each other in the dance it causes a certain softness in Skizz's heart to spike. Impulse's hand in his is solid, but the hold is gentle, casual, despite the energy in their motions. But eventually, the song starts winding down, each step taking them closer to the end. As the singer lets out the final words, and the instruments their final notes, their right hands detach and fly out behind them. At the same time, both their right feet take a step backward. They strike the final pose perfectly.

The song ends, and the new one that plays plunges Skizz right back into reality. Oh my god, he doesn't remember being this tired afterward! He lets go of Impulse's hand to place both his hands on his knees so he can try and regain his breath. Impulse seemingly has the same idea, but he also has the brain cells to grab Skizz by the shoulder and lead them out of the crowd and off the dance floor. They both crash on a nearby bench.

"I am so sweaty dude, holy moly" Impulse exclaims as he wipes his forehead.

"That was fun though, man!" Skizz responds between his huffing. Impulse gives him an acknowledging noise, but not much more.

Suddenly, someone is applauding.

"Wow, didn't know you guys could dance like that!"

Skizz looks up to see Jojo.

"Thanks, Junior Shabado," He says with a kind smile. "What he said," Impulse adds on.

"Maybe next time we have a training session, you could teach me!" She adds on, a slight slur to her words. Skizz has to fight for his life to not start laughing.

"Yeah, I'm sure Impulse would love to pass down the tradition!"

The unexplainable noise that Impulse emits at his suggestion will fuel him for the decades to come.

(What he'll also be fueled by was that someone managed to record them dancing and posted it online. Sober Impulse's flustered but still proud reaction was nothing short of glorious. Because yes, as the comments on the clip point out many times, they really did SLAY the competition.)

[dogsayswoof]

Before The Fire Dies: Chapter 5

Railroad Tracks

Word Count: 8.66k Last Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist WARNING: SMUT Sorry for the delay, I've been away from internet so while I've been writing I haven't been able to post. Enjoy this long chapter though!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Connor's boots struck the frosted ground in hurried rhythm, his breath billowing in soft, visible plumes as he rounded the last corner toward Dina's house. One hand clutched her thermos, filled to the brim with hot coffee. The other held a poorly wrapped sandwich that radiated warmth through the parchment and into his skin.

It wasn't perfect. The wrapping was loose, the sandwich uneven. But he had made it.

For her.

He had planned to continue his brutal pace of work through the third week���sunup to sundown, never idle for a moment. But Tommy had other plans. An "executive decision," he'd called it. The kind where the words 'we're worried' were really just a warning disguised as concern.

Connor had tried to fight him on it, but he was relentless.

It happened two days ago, out behind the stables. The morning frost hadn't yet melted, and Connor's breath came in cold, short puffs as he shoved hay into the troughs like it owed him something.

Tommy leaned against the fence, chewing on a matchstick, arms crossed in that calm, steady way that only made Connor more on edge.

"You got a second?"

Connor didn't stop working. "Kinda busy."

"Yeah, well, this won't take long."

He didn't wait for a response. Just pushed off the post and walked over, tone casual, but Connor could already feel it tightening in his chest—something's coming.

"Maria and Gail brought up a concern. And frankly, they're not wrong."

Connor finally looked at him, brow tight. "About what?"

"You," Tommy said simply. "You're spread too thin, and we all see it. You've been workin' double what most folks can handle. It ain't sustainable."

Connor scoffed, turned back to the trough. "I'm handling it just fine."

"Yeah?" Tommy asked, stepping closer. "Tell that to the way you flinched when the wind slammed the barn door yesterday. Or how you haven't slept more than a couple hours a night. Or the fact that you damn near passed out on your last patrol."

Connor's hands stilled on the hay. The burn started in his throat first, then spread low into his chest—hot, unwelcome.

"I don't need babysitting," he muttered.

"Ain't what this is," Tommy replied. "This is me telling you—your schedule's being cut in half. Starting today."

That word—cut—landed like a blow. Connor turned to him, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

"You're forcing me to stop?"

"I'm slowing you down," Tommy said evenly. "There's a difference. We're not gonna stand by and watch you run yourself into the fucking ground."

The air around Connor felt like it shrank, just a little. The sound of nearby horses, the wind, even Tommy's voice—all of it blurred beneath the slow rise of pressure building behind his eyes.

"You don't get it," he said, voice low and brittle.

"I do," Tommy said, not unkindly. "More than you think."

For a long second, Connor didn't say anything. Didn't trust himself to. His fists curled into the fabric of his jacket, nails biting into skin. He wanted to yell, or break something, or take off running until his legs gave out. Anything to shut off the feeling clawing its way up his spine.

But he didn't.

Instead, he nodded once—sharp, controlled—and walked away.

Not because he agreed. Not because he was okay.

But because if he stayed another second, he might've cracked open.

Determined not to let that feeling consume him again, he turned to work on projects and gifts in his newly given free time. He went to the library and read to learn new things. His first attempt was a cookbook. He settled on something simple, a grilled cheese.

Jesse, forever Captain Wyoming, got them cleared for a hunting trip. They spent the day tracking deer through the woods, Connor grateful for the silence, the space to move. They brought home two fat bucks, earning them grins and praise from the townsfolk—and the promise of a superb dinner that evening.

The next morning, before the rest of Jackson stirred, Connor had slipped into the communal kitchen like a thief. He'd wrapped a leftover cut of the prized venison in cloth and tucked it into his jacket, then scavenged the fridge for cheese he helped make earlier that week. He found Dina's favorite bread—soft in the center, crisp when toasted—and plucked a tomato and some herbs from the garden he'd restored last month.

Back in Tommy's place, he got to work. However... he was hopeless in the kitchen.

The tomato rolled frustratingly every time he tried to cut it, each slice ending in some weird wedge. The herbs—meant to be chopped—got sort of... mashed instead. He muttered curses under his breath and glared at the open cookbook like it had personally offended him.

"Stupid fucking book" he muttered to himself

But he powered through. He buttered the bread, melted the cheese, cooked the meat just shy of rare like Dina liked. It wasn't pretty, but it smelled amazing. He wrapped it up in parchment, filled her thermos, and headed out.

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

When Dina opened the door, she fully expected to find Ellie mid-rant or Jesse brimming with news, judging by the rapid, urgent knocks.

She did not expect to see Connor, standing on her porch with her thermos in one hand and a lopsided, steaming sandwich wrapped in parchment in the other.

He held them out, like an offering. "Ta-da," he said, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips.

She blinked, genuinely stunned. "You... made this?"

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Figured I owe you after all the stuff you've left me. And, lord knows I've got more free time now. Tommy cut my shifts, so I'm trying some new things."

He gave an awkward shrug. "This is attempt number one."

Dina stared at the sandwich like it might explode, then looked back at him—still unsure if she was dreaming. "Connor, this is... adorable." Her grin broke through, warm and honest. "Come in before it gets cold."

She took a bite before he'd even finished sitting down.

"Oh my fucking god," she groaned, eyes fluttering shut. "What did you do to this?"

Connor sat on the edge of the couch, watching her like she might spit it out at any second. "So... you like it?"

"Like it?" she said around a mouthful, licking cheese off her finger. "Connor, this is incredible."

He smiled then—really smiled—and it reached all the way up into his eyes. A warmth he hasn't felt in a while bloomed somewhere in his chest.

"Here," she said, handing him the other half. "You have to try this."

He took a bite. Chewed. Blinked.

"Holy shit," he said. "I made that?"

"You did," she grinned, going in for another bite.

As he left her house, that flicker of warmth returned, as fleeting as it was. Dina was his anchor, and doing things for her brought him joy. So began the gestures.

First came the bookshelf. He'd traded for all the materials and disappeared for a day, burying himself in Joel's old workshop. The dark oak he used was engraved with small, intricate designs. Papers littered the workbench—drawing after drawing of mock-ups. When it was finished, he polished it carefully and left it on her porch with a note:

Now you have somewhere to show off your collections. – C

Then came Japan's stall. He repainted the whole thing, replaced the weathered parts, even fixed the squeak in the door. The finishing touch was a small metal plaque—not flashy, but deliberate. Painted a deep burgundy, it bore the name Japan in engraved silver. He mounted it carefully to the top of the stall door.

A few days later, a bouquet of dried flowers appeared by her bedroom window. Then, a handmade bench at her favorite spot in town. Books she would love started showing up in her mailbox—borrowed from the library, always stamped with fresh due dates.

And that's when Dina realized: Connor's view had shifted. He lived to please her. And maybe... it was time to throw him a bone.

--------

The afternoon sun filtered weakly through the barn rafters, catching flecks of dust in a slow, lazy drift. Connor crouched near the tack bench, calloused fingers wrapping worn leather straps with new bindings. Japan's saddle lay across his lap, the stitching nearly finished. He hummed something tuneless under his breath, just sound to fill the quiet.

"Got a second cousin?"

Connor didn't look up. He already knew the voice.

Ellie stood just inside the open barn door, arms crossed, face unreadable. She leaned against the frame, determination etched in her face.

"Not really," he muttered, focusing on the threading. "Pretty busy."

She ignored his comment, "I've been working on a plan."

That made him pause—not long, just a hitch in motion—but it was enough. She caught it. He shifted the saddle, reached for the leather punch.

"Ellie—" he started before being cut off

"I know where one of them is. The woman's name is Abby. I know where one of her crew is. I talked to Tommy and Jesse." Her voice gained desperation in each sentence, a fire growing in it. Losing control.

He let out a sigh through his nose. "Don't start."

"I'm not starting. I'm finishing. This is it, Connor. We get this one right, and we get closure."

The punch snapped through the leather with a sharp crack.

"I said," he muttered, "not now."

She stepped closer, boots scuffing the straw. "Why not now? You're clearly focused. I mean, look at this," she motioned to the half-finished saddle, to the neat rows of tools. "Hell, they don't want you to know a damn thing about it. You deserve to know. You've got the time to fix everything in this damn barn. To build Dina benches and drop off library books like some tragic fuckin' Romeo—"

He stood, slowly and calmly. But his shoulders were tight. He was held together by a thread.

"Say what you're trying to say."

Ellie met his eyes. "I'm saying if you've got that much energy to play house, then maybe you've got the energy to help me do what actually matters."

He stared at her, jaw flexing.

"At least I'm doing something, Ellie."

"Something?" she scoffed. "Is that what this is? Charity? Guilt? You think Joel would've wanted you making benches and hiding behind lunches and love notes?"

"Don't." His voice dropped, low and warning.

She stepped in again. "He's dead, Connor. They killed him. While we sat here. You remember that?"

"Of course I remember," he said, and suddenly his voice was rising. "Every night. Every time I close my eyes. Every time I finally get some sleep, his memory yanks me right back. You think I've forgotten about it?"

"Then do something about it!" she interjected desperately.

"I am!" he shouted. "I am trying to build a life that isn't just fucking blood and ash! You want to burn the world down, go ahead—but please don't drag me with you."

Silence swallowed the barn. Only the soft creak of a horse shifting in its stall. His breath heaved, chest rising and falling like he'd just sprinted miles.

Ellie stared at him, something unreadable in her eyes. Not anger. Not yet.

Pity.

She turned to leave, but paused at the door.

"You're not building a life, Connor. You're hiding in one."

There was a pause.

"Oh—and she knows. She's on board."

Then she was gone.

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

Dina paced her room in slow circles, arms folded tight across her chest. The sun outside was dipping low, brushing the frost-laced windows with pale gold. Her boots thudded softly against the rug, a rhythm too restless for someone who claimed to be "just thinking."

She wasn't even sure what she was thinking anymore.

Should I ask him over?

The question had been looping in her head all afternoon. Every time she settled on yes, a quiet but what if... followed right on its heels.

What if he says no?

What if he says yes, but only because he feels like he has to?

What if I start relying on this—on him—only to watch him come apart again?

She exhaled sharply and stopped pacing, rubbing the heel of her hand against her forehead. Part of her wanted to believe it was simple: he was trying. He was thoughtful, tender in ways that surprised her. That bench at the overlook, the library books, Japan's stall—he did those things for her, and not out of obligation. He lit up when she smiled. He cared. Hell, she knew he loved her, even if he hadn't said it out loud.

But what if that was the problem?

What if he loved her so much he was shoving down everything else just to make her happy and keep her close?

And if he breaks again...

She glanced at the corner of her room, at the still-unpacked bag by her dresser. The one she hadn't touched since the last time he spiraled. Since the night he wouldn't let her in.

Can I go through that again?

She didn't have an answer. Not one she liked, anyway.

The stew had been a reflex—something warm, something normal. She hadn't planned on inviting anyone. She hadn't planned on anything, really.

But her feet moved toward the kitchen anyway.

The broth was bubbling gently when a knock landed on the door.

She didn't flinch.

Because somehow... she knew it was him.

When she opened it, Connor stood on the porch, backlit by the last rays of sun. A little flushed. Sweating slightly from the walk. But quiet.

He didn't ask to come in.

He just looked at her.

And for once, she didn't make him.

"Hope you like stew," she said softly, stepping aside.

He hesitated—just enough for her to notice—then crossed the threshold.

The warmth of her house wrapped around him the moment he stepped inside. It smelled like rosemary and cracked pepper, something rich simmering low on the stove. The kind of smell that made him think of safety. Of home.

She motioned for him to sit, and he did—quietly, without his usual small talk or charm. He ran a hand through his hair, still damp from sweat and melting snow, and kept his eyes on the table as she ladled the stew into mismatched ceramic bowls.

They ate in silence at first.

Not the strained kind—more like a held breath neither of them was ready to exhale.

Every few bites, Connor glanced up. Noticed the way she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. The way her fingers drummed lightly on the side of her bowl. She was nervous. That surprised him. She was usually calm and collected.

"You're not eating," he said, his voice low.

Dina blinked, then offered a faint smile. "Trying to decide if I made it too salty."

"It's perfect."

She looked at him. Just for a moment too long.

Then, "You're a shitty liar."

He huffed a breath—maybe a laugh, maybe not—and dipped his spoon again.

"I got into it with Ellie today."

Her spoon paused midair. She didn't ask. Just waited.

"She's pushing again," he continued. "Revenge tour part two. Only this time, she wants me in the front seat."

Dina sat back slowly, bowl forgotten. "What'd you say?"

"I told her no." His jaw flexed, something restrained behind his eyes. "Told her I'm not burning everything down just to feel something."

Dina nodded, but it wasn't relief that crossed her face. It was something closer to caution. "You mean that?"

He met her gaze and didn't blink. "I want to mean it."

A quiet settled between them again.

She stood first, taking his bowl with hers. He started to protest, but she waved him off. As she turned to the sink, she asked over her shoulder, "You staying a while?"

He hesitated. "If that's okay."

She didn't answer. Just kept washing.

Then she dried her hands, moved to the couch, and sat with her legs tucked under her. She didn't look at him, just reached for the blanket draped over the back and pulled it into her lap.

He watched her for a second, unsure of what exactly she was asking from him.

And then he followed.

He sat beside her, the slightest fraction of their legs touching. The fire in the hearth had dimmed to a warm flicker, shadows dancing across the floor. The kind of light that made people whisper, even if they had nothing to hide.

After a minute, she leaned slightly, her shoulder brushing his.

He didn't move away.

"You okay?" she asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

He looked down at his hands. Then at her.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm better when I'm with you. You make it all go away"

Her expression didn't change, but something in her posture softened—something small and honest and tired.

"Good.. now make it all go away" her voice barely above a whisper, her face had moved within inches of his, like she was begging for him to kiss her.

And he did.

Dina's breath hitched when his lips met hers.

He was shaky, nervous and hesitant.

But when she didn't pull away and her hand found his jaw and steadied him, he deepened the kiss with a fire only she could stoke. Their mouths were searching, finding rhythm with each other. 

He tasted like rosemary and smoke. Like winter and warmth all at once.

The blanket slipped from her lap as she shifted, twisting toward him. Her hands moved and curled into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring herself to something—someone—she hadn't been sure she could trust again.

But God, he felt different this time. Like he wanted to be here. Like this wasn't about escape.

Connor's hand found the small of her back, slow and gentle, holding her like she was something delicate he wasn't sure he fully deserved. She kissed him harder at that—part frustration, part raw, desperate desire.. She wanted to believe this. Wanted to believe him. That he could be okay. That they could be okay. But most of all she wanted him to just take what he wanted from her.

She hadn't realized how much she had wanted it, until here they were on her couch.

His breath was ragged when they broke apart, foreheads pressed together, the room spinning just slightly.

"You sure?" he whispered, eyes searching hers.

She didn't answer right away. Just leaned into him, kissed the corner of his mouth, then down along his jaw, his neck. His pulse jumped beneath her lips.

His hands slipped to her waist, under her shirt but not greedy. His warm palms against her soft bare skin. Her body reacted before her mind could. She shifted, straddling his lap without thinking, and they both gasped softly at the contact.

They kissed again—deeper, hungrier this time.

And then her hands were undoing the buttons of his shirt, moving as quick as she could. His body reacted quickly, his hands itching not to just explore every inch of her. The restraint was killing him.

When she got the last button undone, she pushed the shirt back allowing access to him. Her eyes raked over his naked torso. His muscles were bigger than they used to be but he was still lean, and toned from all the work. His skin was littered with scars, but one across his chest stuck out.

Her finger traced the laceration that stretched from just below his left collarbone down to the bottom of his right chest. 

"You never told me about this one..." she muttered her voice trailing off, 

"Maybe later" he said his voice low and raw.

Her eyes flicked to his and she saw him staring at her. His eyes were dark with desire and she felt her stomach flip.

She grabbed his face and kissed him as hard as she could. He responded with equal force, his body pressing into hers.

Connor's hands slipped a little higher under her shirt, his nails scratching her back softly and she sighed into his mouth. His hips involuntarily rolled into hers from how sweet she sounded and he groaned in pleasure, moving his lips to her neck, biting harshly than smoothing it over with his tongue and soft kisses.

"You really like when, huh?" she teased in his ear as he continued kissing, pulling another breathless moan from her mouth. She felt him smile and a quick nod as he kissed hungerly down to her collarbone and back to her lips.

As they continued to kiss, his hands moved diligently up and around to her clothed breasts, cupping one squeezing softly. 

She pulled back, breathless, pressing her forehead to his. One of her hands rose to cradle the back of his neck, her fingers softly scratching it.

"Not tonight," she whispered against his lips.

He stilled almost feeling bad for moving too fast, then nodded. His chest rose and fell beneath her, his breath coming hard.

"Okay," he said. No disappointment in his voice. Just sincerity. "Okay."

She kissed him once more—gentler now. Like a promise. Then slid back beside him on the couch. He stood up and moved to button his shirt and all she could do is watch him. 

That's when she saw it.

That faraway look in his eyes. His mouth was soft, his face calm, but the gaze behind his eyes had gone somewhere else entirely.

He sat down next to her again and Dina pulled the blanket over both of them. She reached for his hand beneath the blanket, lacing their fingers together and giving a small squeeze.

"Connor," she said quietly.

He blinked, then looked at her.

"You okay?"

He nodded, giving a small smile.

But he didn't squeeze her hand back.

She didn't push as much as she wanted to. She didn't ask. Instead she rested her head on his shoulder and let the silence settle around them again.

But inside, her stomach had began to knot.

Because she knew that look.

It wasn't the look of someone lost in desire. It was the look of someone who was fighting again.

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

It hadn't been a day since the couch incident and Dina wasn't able to stop thinking about it. Not just how bad she wanted him, but the look he had once they had stopped. It was driving her crazy that she wasn't able to read his mind, because then maybe she'd actually understand.

Ellie had her running some errands and she had meant to be in and out quick, but as stopped by the clinic to drop off a supply list for Jackson's next resupply run, she had been intercepted.

The place was quiet, save for the ticking of an old clock and the occasional creak of shifting wood. The scent of rubbing alcohol clung to everything.

Gail looked up from a stack of notes when Dina stepped in. "Got a minute?" she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes said otherwise.

Dina hesitated. Then shrugged. "Sure."

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely. Gail gestured toward the empty chair across from her desk, and Dina took it.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Gail sifted through a few papers, then set them aside. "It's about Connor," she said finally.

Dina didn't react—at least not outwardly. Just blinked once, mind shooting back to the look from last night, "What about him?"

Gail studied her for a beat, like she was weighing how honest to be. "He's overworking. Again."

Dina scoffed lightly. "That's not new."

"It's worse now," Gail said. "He took on extra shifts. Long ones. Volunteered for gate guard on his off days. Keeps saying it 'helps him sleep.'"

Dina frowned. That part was new.

Gail leaned back in her chair, sighing. "I've been seeing him in session. He talks more than he used to—and he was opening up but recently he's regressed to only surface level topics. It's like watching someone try to patch a sinking boat with duct tape."

Dina raised an eyebrow. "And you think I can fix that?"

"I think he listens to you in ways he doesn't listen to me," Gail said simply.

That made Dina pause. Her jaw tightened. "I'm not his therapist."

"I'm not asking you to be."

"Then what are you asking?"

Gail met her eyes. "I'm asking you to keep an eye on him. To get him to slow down. To remind him he doesn't have to earn his place here every second of the day. Because the way he's headed—he's not recovering, Dina. He's putting band aids on bullet holes."

Dina looked away. A muscle ticked in her cheek. "And if he doesn't want to stop?"

"Then at least he won't be alone while he's falling apart."

Silence settled between them, thick and uncomfortable.

"I don't know if I can," Dina said at last, her voice quiet. "He's... different. Sometimes I feel like I'm getting through to him. Other times, it's like he's not even in the room. Like I'm talking to a ghost."

Gail's voice softened. "That look he gets... the faraway one?"

Dina nodded.

"It's been getting longer," Gail said. "More frequent. And the longer he pretends he's fine, the harder it's going to hit him when he realizes he's not."

Another beat passed. Then Dina sat back, exhaling through her nose. "You're really good at making this sound like a moral responsibility."

"It's not a responsibility," Gail said gently. "It's a choice. One you don't have to make. But if you do... it could matter."

Dina stared at the floor for a long moment, fingers picking at a thread on her jacket.

"...Okay," she said finally. Not loud. Not firm. But real.

Gail didn't smile. Just nodded. "That's all I ask."

As Dina stood to leave, she hesitated in the doorway. "If he pushes me away again..."

"Just be there," Gail said. "Try to be there when he comes back."

Dina gave a small nod, then stepped out into the fading light, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft click. The sky outside was streaked with orange, the kind of color that made you think for too long about things you didn't want to.

She stood there for a moment, staring down the path that led home.

And then—slowly—she started walking.

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

A month passed. Jackson was thawing.

The snow had started to melt, slowly, revealing the muddy ground beneath the white. Birds returned with tentative songs. Kids laughed more. The fences were still guarded, but life had a pulse again. And for the first time in a long time, Connor wasn't trying to outrun it.

He stood outside the greenhouses with his sleeves rolled up, dirt under his nails and sweat clinging to the back of his neck. Dina was sitting nearby on an overturned bucket, half-eating an apple, half-watching him try to re-pot something that had already died twice.

"You're gonna kill that poor thing," she said, smirking.

Connor glanced up, mock-offended. "I'm giving it a third chance. Like a redemption arc."

Dina chuckled, tossing a small clump of dirt at him. "It's a plant, not a protagonist."

He smiled. Not the tight, polite kind he wore around most members of the town. Not the guarded one he gave Gail. A real smile—crooked, warm, just for her.

That was the thing: she'd started showing up more. At first, it was little things—dropping by when he was working in the stables or the kennels, tagging along when he walked the perimeter trail. Then it was evenings. She'd nudge him into skipping late shifts or gate guard, bring him extra rations, convince him to stay and eat with her and Jesse instead of wolfing down dinner alone.

At first, he hadn't questioned it. Then he started to notice the way she leaned into him when they sat close. The way her gaze lingered when she thought he wasn't looking. The way she laughed more easily around him.

And he started to believe—hope, really—that she was falling in love with him.

Because he was falling in love with her.

Not the sharp, breathless kind of love he'd seen in stories. No. This was quieter. Like a slow unfolding. Like realizing that home wasn't a place, but a person who kept showing up. Dina had always been a presence in his life, but now she was something else—Steady. Constant. Real.

He was healing. Not perfectly. Not fast. But the noise in his head had grown quieter the longer she was around.

"Dinner at mine tonight?" he asked, wiping his hands on a rag.

Dina looked up from her apple core, a flicker of hesitation passing through her eyes. Then she smiled—soft, unsure. "Yeah. Okay."

He nodded, heart light, and turned back to the plant with renewed determination.

She watched him in silence for a moment, chewing the inside of her cheek.

She was falling in love with him. She couldn't deny that anymore. Not with the way her chest ached when he smiled like that. Not with how good it felt when he let her in—not just physically, but emotionally. He talked now. About his birth parents. Growing up with Tommy and Maria. Stories and facts about himself he never told anyone else. About the nightmares he has. About how Jesse once got chased by a turkey at age nine.

But she was also fighting an inner battle.

That this grew because Gail asked her to keep an eye on him. That every moment of closeness began with her promise to Gail.

Sure they had their moments before, but she always kept him at an arm's length.

Part of her was scared. Scared that the warmth she saw in him lately was a passing season. That the next cold front would come and he'd shut her out again, without warning.

She wasn't sure if she was waiting for him to break again, or hoping he never would.

So she stayed close, but cautious. But god he was good at getting past her walls.

Connor glanced back over his shoulder at her, grinning with a boyish smile she hadn't seen since he was 12.

"You're staring."

"Maybe I like the view."

He chuckled at that, a little caught off guard, but pleased. His ears went pink. "Dork."

Dina just smiled and stood up, brushing off her jeans.

As they walked back toward the town square together, the sun dipped behind the mountains, casting golden light across the fields. Spring was coming.

But Dina still carried a coat in her bag. Just in case.

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

The ice was receding.

Not just in the fields or on the rooftops, but in the air—crisp instead of brutal, the kind of cold that promised change instead of survival. For the first time in months, Jackson was waking up early to birdsong instead of howling wind.

Connor liked the thaw.

He liked waking up next to blooming greenery and sunlight instead of frost. He liked walking Dina home every night with his jacket open. He liked the quiet things again—like the way the mud stuck to his boots as he worked or how Jesse's laugh echoed down the alley when the kids pelted him with leftover snowballs.

Most of all, he liked not being angry all the time.

So when Ellie was sitting inside Joel's workshop, he wasn't expecting the cold to return so quickly.

"Hey," she said, hands in her pockets, giving him a tight smile.

Connor placed the tools he was carrying on the workbench before he spoke, "Hey."

She didn't waste time.

"I found something," she said, voice low. "Tommy gave me the last report from the border patrol. There was a girl they spotted heading toward California. Big arms. Scar on her face. Matches the description of Abby. It could be her."

Connor's blood slowed.

He didn't move. Just stared at the tools splayed across the workspace. He could feel his heart rate increase and heart the blood begin to pound in his ears.

Ellie pressed forward, fast like she knew hesitation was dangerous. "There's more. A guy traveling with her, big dude with braids. Another guy too, kind of short, pale, looked sick. It's them, Connor. It has to be them."

He finally looked up, jaw tight. "Ellie, no."

"No?" Her brows knit together. "You haven't even heard the plan."

"I don't need to. I'm not doing this." He turned back to the cart, voice strained but steady. "We've been over this. I'm better."

"No, you've been avoiding it," she said. "You think playing with puppies and pretending you're in love with Dina is gonna make what happened okay?"

That hit like a crowbar to the chest.

Connor froze.

Ellie knew it. She took a step closer.

"They killed him," she said, quieter now. "They beat him to death, Connor. You saw it. And we just—what? Let them go? Pretend like it's fine? Like it didn't fucking happen? It's been two months. It's time to go. It's time to make them pay."

His hands reached forward and he gripped the edge of the wood.

"I'm making peace," he said, barely above a whisper. "For the first time in months, I can breathe again."

"And what about Joel?" she snapped. "What peace did he get?"

He turned then. Not slow—fast. Sharp.

"Get the fuck out of here, Ellie." 

Her mouth opened, stunned. "Connor—"

"I said get out."

He didn't yell, but it was worse than that. His voice was low and dangerous, like something smoldering under the surface. Like he couldn't promise what would happen if she stayed.

Ellie stood her ground, but her face fell.

"You think hiding from this makes you stronger?" she asked, biting the inside of her cheek. "You think love makes you safe? Wake up. You're still broken. You're just really good at pretending not to be. I'll be back in a week."

She walked away before he could answer—because she wasn't sure she wanted to hear what he'd say.

Connor stood there long after she disappeared down the road, wind blowing through the cracked window threading through his jacket like fingers trying to pry him open.

That night, he didn't go to Dina's.

He worked late in the shop instead, past sunset, past curfew. Fixing things that didn't need fixing. Reorganizing gear that was already sorted. Making excuses not to feel anything or to listen to the thoughts in his head.

Because Ellie was wrong. He had been healing. He'd been trying.

But her words sank in like hooks, snagging every doubt he hadn't voiced.

What if she was right? What if this was all just a lie he told himself to survive? Abby was still out there, alive, breathing, laughing—while Joel rotted in the ground beneath Jackson's thawing snow?

He didn't sleep that night.

And the next day, he took two extra shifts.

Dina asked him if everything was okay.

He said he was just tired.

But the seed had been planted.

And winter, it seemed, wasn't quite over yet. Three days later, Dina had just finished her patrol and was hanging up her gear when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to find Gail approaching, wind-chapped and serious.

"Hey," Dina said, brushing snowmelt from her sleeves.

"Hey," Gail replied, but her tone wasn't casual. She looked over Dina's shoulder, as if checking to make sure they were alone, before lowering her voice. "Can we talk a second?"

Dina's heart sank a little. "Sure."

They stepped to the side, near the shed, away from the traffic of returning patrols.

"He's in trouble," Gail said, cutting straight to it.

Dina didn't ask who she meant.

"He hasn't come to our sessions. Not once in the last week. And when I tried to talk to him yesterday, it was like... he wasn't there. Just nodded, brushed me off." Gail folded her arms, biting her lip. "I don't think it's just a bad few days."

Dina stayed quiet. She knew what Gail was getting at, but it hurt more coming from someone else.

"I saw him this morning," Gail continued, "walking out of the workshop. His gait was off. Not limping, just... tense. Like every step was a fight. His eyes were worse. Distant. Paranoid, maybe."

Dina nodded slowly, a pit forming in her stomach.

"I've seen this before," Gail said. "He's in a spiral. And he's not telling anyone."

Dina looked down at her hands. They were trembling slightly. "What do I do?"

"Stay close," Gail said. "But don't lie to yourself. If he pulls away, if he starts acting like he doesn't need help... that's when he needs it the most."

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

She found Connor outside the stables the next day, feeding Banner and Japan. He was quiet, moving on autopilot, eyes shadowed by exhaustion. She watched him for a moment before stepping in to help, grabbing a bucket from his side.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey beautiful," he almost whispered.

The one single word, made her heart skip. She leaned into him.

They didn't say much as they worked. It had become their rhythm—comfortable silence, occasional murmurs. But something was off tonight. The air between them felt different. Taut.

When Dina accidentally knocked over the bucket of grain, scattering feed across the floor, Connor flinched like a shot had gone off.

"Goddammit, Dina!" he snapped, louder than she'd ever heard him.

She froze, wide-eyed. He stared at the mess like it had betrayed him. His breath came hard and fast.

Then, just as suddenly, his shoulders sagged.

"I—I'm sorry," he said, voice cracking. "Shit. I didn't mean to—fuck, I'm sorry."

Dina bent down and began scooping up the grain with her hands. She spoke softly, "It's okay."

"No, it's not," he muttered, kneeling beside her. "I've just been off. I haven't been sleeping. My head's... foggy."

"You're tired. That's all," she said, even though she didn't believe it. She reached over and touched his arm. "We've all been on edge with the increase in infected."

He didn't answer. Just kept picking up feed like it mattered more than anything else.

Dina studied his face—the way his jaw clenched, the dark circles beneath his eyes, the way he blinked like he was trying to force himself to stay grounded.

"You're scaring me a little," she whispered.

That made him pause.

"....I'm scaring myself" he admitted.

She scooted closer and leaned her forehead against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him.

"Don't disappear on me again," she said.

"I'm trying not to," he whispered. "I really am."

But even as he said it, she could feel the weight on him. Like he was holding back something massive. Like he was trying to keep his head above the water with the weight of something pulling him down and the surface was the present, where she was.

When they were done working, he headed off to find Tommy, leaving her behind with a soft kiss on her forehead and a small squeeze of her hand. Dina took off towards the only person she knew who could do this to him.

The sun was setting again, by the time she found Ellie where she usually went to think—alone, quiet, head down like she could string her anger into the bow in her hands.

"Ellie," Dina said, folding her arms, stopping a few feet away.

Ellie didn't look up. "What?"

"You talked to him about the plan."

Ellie tugged the bowstring tighter, jaw clenched. "Yeah. I did."

"Three days ago, Connor was laughing," Dina said quietly. "He cooked me dinner. He told me a stupid story about Jesse falling in a pond. He was... better. And now?"

Ellie looked up finally, face tight. "He wasn't better, Dina. He was pretending. That's worse."

"You don't get to decide that for him."

"I'm not deciding anything. I'm reminding him why we're still breathing."

Dina stepped forward, voice rising despite herself. "You ambushed him, Ellie. You pulled the pin and dropped it at his feet, then walked away like nothing would explode."

"I didn't expect him to be fine," Ellie snapped. "I expected him to remember."

"I know he remembers," Dina said. "He remembers every day. That doesn't mean he's ready."

Ellie stood, tossing the bow aside, her voice hard with hurt. "You think I'm the villain in this? You think I wanted to hurt him?"

"No," Dina said, softer now. "But you did. And now I'm watching him fall apart all over again."

Ellie ran a hand through her hair, pacing, trying to keep her emotions in check. "You don't get it, Dina. I need him. I can't do this alone. And I thought—hell, I hoped—if I gave him something real again, he'd remember who the fuck he is. Not this... this domestic version of him playing house with you."

Dina flinched at that, hurt flashing in her eyes. "He's not playing anything. You're the one who never left that basement. You're still down there, blood on your hands, thinking revenge is the only way out.""

Ellie's voice dropped to a whisper. "Maybe not. But doing nothing... that's not healing either."

A silence stretched between them.

Dina looked down, then back up with quiet resolve. "I'm not saying don't go, and I'm not saying that we won't go with you. But don't drag him back under just because you need it. If he goes with you like this—he won't come back the same."

Ellie nodded once, lips pressed tight. "I know."

Dina turned to leave, but paused at the door.

"He's not as strong as he thinks," she said. "But he's trying. Just... give him a little more time. Please."

And then she was gone, leaving Ellie alone in the quiet, staring down at the bow at her feet.

When Dina finally arrived home, after an emotional afternoon, she saw a piece of paper wedged in her door.

Joel's workshop. 8:30pm. Tomorrow. Don't forget. Don't be late....... please?  - C <3

She didn't see Connor around Jackson the next day. He wasn't at any of his sweet escapes. She left for patrol, came back, and there was still no sign of him. She wasn't even sure she was still supposed to meet him.

When 8:30 rolled around, there she was knocking on the door to the workshop, punctual as requested. 

A moment.

Then another.

She knocked once more but before her knuckles could hit the door, it swung open. 

There stood a disheveled Connor. His blonde locks were tussled and his cowlick was far from under control, sleeves pushed up, and all sorts of stains and tears covered his shirt. His dark circles seemed more prominent, but his eyes were brighter as he welcomed her in.

Behind him there string lights hung up along the walls and a record player on the armchair. Records flung around it like he had gone through each individual one. In fact, he probably had. 

The lights left a golden glow over the space. The room felt transformed—less like a workshop and more like a memory frozen in amber. Joel's old workbench was cleared, Connor's clutter neatly pushed to the sides. The air smelled faintly of cedar and old smoke.

He fiddled with the needle until a record crackled to life on the player.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly turning back towards her, "I didn't know what kind of music you'd want, so I went through... a lot." He gestured sheepishly at the scattered vinyls. "Hope this one's okay."

It was an old jazz tune—slow, rich, velvety. Dina continued to scan the room, overwhelmed not just by the scene but by the weight behind it. The effort. The intention.

"You did all this?" she asked.

Connor shrugged, trying to downplay it. "Uh... yeah, I felt bad about the stable" he hesitated, glancing at her, "I needed you to have something real. After everything. I needed me to have something real."

She stepped closer, her hand brushing his.

"You could've just brought me soup," she teased, but her voice cracked halfway through.

He smiled gently. "I'm pretty sure that's your thing"

Then, without another word, he offered his hand. A silent invitation.

Dina blinked, then laughed softly. "Seriously?"

"You're gonna turn me down twice?" he asked with mock offense.

"No," she said, placing her hand in his. "Not this time."

He pulled her gently toward him, one hand at her waist, the other clutching hers like it was the last stable thing in the world. They swayed, barely moving, just enough to be called dancing.

The song crackled on.

He quoted her softly, his lips near her ear. "You still think I dance like a guy trying not to shit himself?"

Dina broke into laughter and buried her face in his shoulder. "I said that once, you asshole."

"And yet it's haunted me forever."

Their laughter faded into silence. All that was left was the low hum of the music, the hush between heartbeats, the soft sound of his breath slowing as he let himself just be—with her.

When the song ended, Connor gently let go, walking over to the bench where two small, hand-carved boxes waited. He opened the first—inside, a simple but beautifully crafted necklace with a small pendant made of woven wire and a glass bead the color of forest moss. He opened the second—his own version, more rugged, made with a darker metal and a knot of wood burned with a tiny mark: the first letter of her name.

"They're not perfect," he said. "But I wanted something we could keep. Something that means even if everything else goes to hell—" he hesitated, voice cracking, "we've still got a piece of each other."

Dina didn't answer at first. Just stared at him, her eyes glassy, unreadable.

Then she stepped forward and cupped his face in both hands.

The kiss she gave him wasn't urgent or frantic. It was slow. Honest. Final in a way that meant beginning, not end.

And when they broke apart, the look she gave him was like the sun rising over a long, dark winter. She was in love and she wouldn't let go of him again.

Without saying a word, she took his hand and led him upstairs.

Connor's heart was racing with each step he climbed. They moved in silence, nothing but the creaking of the wood. 

She led him into the empty bedroom—the one Ellie used to stay in before she moved into the garage.

Once the door closed behind them, Dina turned, grabbed his face, and kissed him hard. He responded without hesitation, his hands settling gently at her waist as she walked them slowly toward the bed.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he lifted her with ease, placing her down between the blankets. He settled between her legs, his lips trailing to her neck, drawing soft, breathy moans from her that only fueled his desire.

She tugged at the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. He broke away just long enough to let her lift it over his head.

There was something in her eyes—hungry, focused, intense. A look he’d only caught glimpses of before. She grabbed her own shirt and peeled it off without a second thought, tossing it aside.

He froze for a moment, breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful. Not just in her body—but in the strength of her gaze, the way she looked at him like she already knew every inch of his heart.

He leaned in again, kissing her deeper this time—slower, with more weight.

Her tongue slid past his lips as she ground her hips up against his, pulling a low groan from him. She smiled against his mouth, teasing, and kissed him harder.

His hands wandered over her body, slow and reverent. The curve of her waist. The dip of her spine. The soft plane of her stomach. Every touch was like he was learning her from memory.

Eventually, his palm came to rest on her chest, fingers splayed across the fabric of her bra. He hesitated.

Dina, clearly impatient, took his hand and slipped it underneath, guiding him to her skin.

He gasped softly at the warmth of her, his thumb brushing over her nipple. She moaned, hips rolling again, wordlessly urging him to keep going.

Dina growing frustrated with how reserved he was being, grabbed his hand and slipped it under. She could feel how turned on he was getting, she just needed to let him know it was okay.

His breath hitched and he palmed it softly, his fingers playing with her nipple. She moaned and rolled her hips, begging for him to continue.

He obliged, leaning in to kiss along her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. She arched into him, fingers tightening in his hair.

“You okay?” he murmured against her skin, voice barely a whisper.

Dina nodded, breathless. “I want you, please”

That was all he needed.

He kissed her again—deeper now, slower but charged—and slipped his hand down her stomach, under the waistband of her underwear. She gasped into his mouth when he touched her, and the sound undid him.

She was already so warm, so ready, and he moved with care, with reverence. Like this wasn’t just about sex. Like it was something sacred.

Her nails scraped gently down his back as he worked her open with steady fingers, each soft sound from her another piece of armor falling away. When she gasped his name, broken and breathy, he kissed her like he was trying to keep them both from falling apart.

“Connor,” she whispered, cupping his face again, eyes dark “I need you.”

He paused just long enough to remove the last of their clothes, and then he was above her again—leaning in slowly, searching her expression for any hesitation. There was none.

He slipped inside and they both gasped. She grabbed at him, moaning the deeper he moved.

"Fuck, I need you" she whispered in his ear.

He began to thrust, slowly at first, but they moved together as if they’d done this a thousand times. As if their bodies had always been waiting for this rhythm, this weight, this closeness.

It wasn’t rough or fast—it was aching and full of everything they hadn’t said. All the pain, all the healing, all the love that had grown between the cracks.

She held him like he was something fragile, and he held her like she was the only thing anchoring him to the world.

As they began to climb, it got messier. His head dipped down into her neck.

"Fucking hell Dina" he moaned and her heart fluttered.

She threw her hands into his hair and used her hips to take him deeper.

Just soft gasps, shared breath, and Connor whispering her name like a prayer every time he felt her shudder beneath him.

Her arms wrapped tight around him when she came, moaning his name loud. That was all he needed to come undone himself. His head tucked into her neck as he finished, his breath labored as he moaned her name into her ear.

And then it was over. Their bodies finally stilled and their foreheads pressed together, Dina exhaled a quiet laugh.

“It's never felt like that before”

He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I know”

He gave her a soft kiss and she pulled him down beside her, curling into his chest. He held her like he was afraid to wake up.

The warmth of her breath on his chest. The weight of her hand resting gently on his stomach. The soft rise and fall of her sleeping form curled into his side. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, Connor felt still.

His fingers traced idle shapes along her back, anchoring himself in the silence. He could’ve stayed like this forever. He wanted to. But as sleep began to take him, the shadows found their way in.

The dream came slowly at first.

The sound of water dripping. A low hum—like static, or breathing, or both. Then came the wet crunch of something snapping.

He was in the forest again.

Snow all around him, untouched and too quiet. Trees loomed like giants, skeletal in the pale light. His breath fogged in front of him, but he couldn’t feel his body. Only the weight in his chest. That deep, familiar dread.

He turned.

There, against the base of a tree, Joel’s body. Mangled. Motionless. Eyes staring at nothing. The snow beneath him soaked red.

Connor couldn’t breathe.

Then suddenly, Joel was gone. The forest blurred, smeared like paint across glass.

And now—

He was standing in the stables. Alone. Blood pooled across the walkway, soaking into dirt a sand. A hammer on the ground. Screaming in the distance.

He looked down.

His hands.

Covered in blood.

Dina’s blood.

He stumbled back—no no no—and then looked up to see her.

Lying in a corner. Barely breathing. Her hand reaching for him, trembling.

“Why didn’t you stop it?” she whispered, her voice distant and echoing like it came from underwater.

“I—I tried,” Connor said, but no sound came out.

Behind him, footsteps. Boots. Heavy. Getting closer.

He turned around—too slow.

A fist collided with his face. Then another.

The dream shifted again—

Now he was the one kneeling.

In a warehouse. Concrete floor cold beneath him. Hands bound. His vision blurry.

Someone was screaming.

Not Dina. Not Ellie.

Him.

His voice, raw and desperate.

A shadow stepped forward. A woman’s silhouette. Broad. Muscular. Holding a golf club.

“Joel died for nothing,” she said, raising it high above her head.

And then—

CRACK.

Connor shot upright in bed, breath ragged, chest heaving.

Sweat clung to his skin like ice. The room was still dark. Dina was still asleep beside him, undisturbed.

He pressed a hand to his face, trembling.

That dream again. But worse. Like it was trying to tell him something this time. Like the pieces of the future were already falling into place and he was too slow to stop them.

He slipped out of bed as quietly as he could. Found a pen and a scrap of paper on the desk nearby and scribbled:

Can't sleep. Gonna help at gate guard. Be back before sunup. <3

He leaned back over and brushed a kiss on her temple, careful not to wake her, and stepped out into the night.

The air was cold.

And as he stood at the edge of Jackson, rifle slung on his back, watching the horizon where the forest met the sky, the night pressed in again. Like something waiting.

He thought of the nightmare.

He thought of Joel.

He thought of Ellie's voice.

And for the first time in days, he let the question form fully:

What if she's right

[kogratorm]

QSMP's Candidates Statements (Translated)

From QuackityToo June 19th Stream.

DISCLAIMER: My native language is Brazilian Portuguese, not Spanish nor English. Due to that and the differences in language expression, I made some changes/paraphrases while translating to accommodate the context, but the overall understanding remains 98% loyal to each candidate’s speech.

BadBoyHalo

BBH proposes that he is the only person capable of carrying out the necessary decisions that the president of Quesadilla Island must take. He believes he is the only one who has the courage to make the difficult decisions necessary to keep the island safe and sound for the residents and prevent a dictator from taking power, all while protecting the eggs.

Foolish

Foolish is excited about the opportunity that the island has provided. He says he wants to enjoy and make the most of the situation because it's not every day that you end up on a crazy island with a diverse population speaking a variety of languages. Some people would prefer to get out of here [Quesadilla] as soon as possible, but he wants to make friends with everyone and enjoy everything the island has to offer.

Etoiles

Etoiles stated that he is charismatic, generous, and that the only negativity he carries is for himself and never for others. Etoiles sets out to explore the island in order to better understand the environment of where they are; he will visit as many dungeons as he needs to get a better understanding of the island.

Baghera

Baghera stated that she has her head screwed on the right way and wishes only the best for the islanders. She values communication and maintains positive relationships with everyone. Baghera believes she is capable of dealing with any fervor or rash situations that may arise. Quesadilla Island is where she was introduced to motherhood, and as a result, she has a specific goal. The place that gave her family and friends is one she must protect at all costs.

Felps

Felps work(ed) as a shipping officer, bus driver, artist, and gardener. What he wants to do is make everyone happy by giving more rights to eggs, noodles, and pasta.

Forever

Forever stated that he is one of the most active players on the island, and as such, he will always be there to protect the people's interests. As a professional Minecraft player, he has many ideas for community projects. Forever describes Richarlyson as one of the happiest things that has happened to him, as well as meeting all of the island's inhabitants (despite the fact that the French make a lot of noise at the egg hotel), given how everyone is very friendly and entertaining.

Mike

Mike promised to restore order to Quesadilla Island, his favorite aspect of the island being the islanders themselves. He would forbid the use of waystones, which would improve the island's dynamics by forcing players to build paths between their bases, allowing them to finally implement a railroad train system.

Cellbit

Cellbit has had prior work experience as a tribute (HG), murderer, prisoner, and detective. He claimed to be Roier's husband, capable of making eloquent arguments and pose intricate inquiries in various scenarios and circumstances. In summary, he believes he is a good president for the Island's future, both for introducing new creative ideas and new narratives to other content creators, as well as for protecting the eggs. His husband, son, and friends are his most valuable things on the island.

Gegg

I swear this isn’t bad translated; it is literally what has been said.

Gegg said he's a businessman, going door to door Gegging. He's a Geggwar criminal. He is an influencer of the family lifestyle. Gegg changes the world. What Gegg likes most about Quesadilla Island is the humidity, the damp places and caves. Gegg promises you freedom. Gegg promises the truth. Gegg promises you power. Gegg promises the abolition of all government rules, taxes and any existing laws. The government establishment holds us, so Gegg will release us. Just one geggrule: believe in Gegg, because Gegg believes in you.

El Quackity

His speech is about his character as well as the election scenario (from the perspective of a Content Creator, not a character). I decided to put it all together because it was somewhat scrambled and also because it was an important reminder for the community.

According to ElQuackity, there is a lack of organization and order. He believes that in the ideal scenario, this can be resolved. He believes that his candidacy in this work and position is critical, and that it will be the best possible. One thing to be clear about it: during his campaign, he will do whatever it takes to ensure that the people have a good president. Thus, he reminds and states that this election event isn’t predetermined, scripted, or planned, and there is no pre-written ending. Elections will be decided by the votes of creators, the efforts of creators, and the votes of the community. He warns that if If he decides to kill a candidate or an egg because it suits his political campaign, he will do so. And, if another candidate decides to kill him for their own benefit, it will be done. No one (except the creators) can say anything to encourage another narrative. We, as a community, need to understand that none of the creators will truly hate each other if one decides to attack the other or kill the other for their own campaign benefit. He encourages the community to support their favorite candidate, but if a creator decides to do something bad to another creator within the game at any time, those who send hate towards creators for actions taken by players in game will be rightfully banned and restricted from all QSMP chat streams. It is, after all, a game. It's a block game. The decisions made within the game will be made by the creators themselves. If the creators ever have a disagreement, it will be solved in private DMs. And nothing bad will ever happen because all the QSMP members are adults who understand that this is all for entertainment purposes. The QSMP Elections ARE for entertainment purposes ONLY.

[capcollector]

so, you feel the Railroad would stick around after the Institute? I don't usually choose them so I don't know their faction as well as the MM, but they seem like they have a really specific goal that no longer exists after the Institute has stopped creating and keeping synths, so in my canon they kind of fizzle out or all split to go towards different (still important) goals. maybe some sort of outreach/advocacy group? what's your take?

well there’s definitely still a lot of scattered synths in the wake of the institute’s demise, and there’s still the looming threat of the brotherhood as well. and the BoS is 100% targeting them next bc they view them as ppl taking technology into their own hands. in fact i think the whole battle that eventually unfolds in my canon picks up so rapidly bc the brotherhood begins targeting/picking off railroad members.

i don’t really see them as short-sighted bc if you listen to what they say/read their terminals it’s pretty clear that while some of them are still working through their own issues, they have a lot they’re dealing with, all while being short-staffed/having few resources. one of deacon’s recurring lines is “the commonwealth can be the enemy just as much as the institute.” having their specific goals and ideals is just part of being a working organization. the way i see it is 1) they’re still working towards something no one else is bothering to do, 2) are already willing to help other ppl (just having very little resources and having to keep things narrow for the time) and would focus on expanding more as time goes on, and 3) have a very specific way of working already that makes for much better work involving something like espionage. can do much more covert work than i think the minutemen can do (on the other side of that, the minutemen are better equipped for larger scale tactics involving lots of ppl at once). they bring other strengths to the table.

if you side w the railroad in-game, just as w any other faction, you’ll see them in places like diamond city, flying their flags, no longer having to stay a secret. this pretty much confirms to me that they’ve definitely expanded into helping more people, especially now that they have the resources. and that’s actually something that influenced bunny’s decision to go back to the minutemen bc she saw how little the railroad had to work with and knew they needed more ppl and weapons so they could stand a chance. in my canon i think both groups infiltrated the institute together, each having a specific role in the plan. post-game it’s definitely a matter of continuing to figure out how to work best together. ultimately they just want a better world for everyone, and the only way we’re gonna get that is to work together.

[utilitycaster]

Leaving it up to dice rolls to determine which gods stay/go is a BONKERS concept on its own but put that next to the fact that there were exactly zero rolls during Ashton's resurrection is just like. mind boggling. Sure, maybe the Ashton thing was due to the 20 failed rolls just trying to catch them but to leave the gods up to chance to just hand out a resurrection feels like SUCH a switch up from how things worked for the last two campaigns (and mini series), I'm kinda gobsmacked about it.

yeah I'm not quite at the level of other people like "oh I'm worried about ALL future CR works" because I still think it is just this campaign, though I'll be going in with a rather wary view on whatever Matt GMs next that isn't just a one-shot, which is WILD to say after being a CR fan for 7 years. But it really is like...@wardensantoineandevka posted this in the group chat last night and I feel like somehow this campaign just jump-roped over the "Flow" line the entire time, mostly in Decision Paralysis/Naive Diversification but occasionally railroaded. I feel it all just snowballed to a point where nothing really mattered and no one really felt like they had answers and couldn't get invested, and the fact that DM-ing energy had to be used to like, drag the party over the finish line probably meant a lot of other stuff just got neglected. And now that it has explictly been said, I think they put out a finale at a time where Matt didn't want deal with the possibility of an ending that was less than syrupy sweet which is like, a thing you can do, but I'm going to call it bad art, because it is.