#the story that will never be told

[piratesofhyrule]

The Story That Will Never Be Told 1: Midzel

By majority vote, Midzel was the first post to be made

Well too bad, WALUIGI TIME!

So you may wonder why my Zelda laughs like Waluigi. This is quite the wild ride, so play the mood music below and we shall begin!

Now from the Mario franchise, Waluigi has always been my fav. I relate a lot to him; tallest of the bunch, lanky (well, before I died inside and put on weight), an absolute loser of a man and wracked with two great desires. Either drag everyone else down with me, or to finally be accepted and loved, even with my many ugly sides.

i briefly knew how that felt once, before August this year

Now let's be honest, Waluigi gets no love from Nintendo. At all. At most, he got his own island in Mario Party 3, was a main antagonist in Dance Dance Revolution: Mario Mix and was given the ability to control thorny plants in Mario Strikers. That's it, he has no game of his own or even got to star in a major role aside from Mario Party 3 and DDR. I'm not sure entirely what possessed me, but with some discussion with @ladyicepaw I had my most brilliantly cursed idea.

In my fic's continuity, after the events of OoT, a convocation of local royals was issued. OoT-Zelda was one of them and because of the Triofrce, plenty of others made unsubtle passes at her for her hand., all refused. But there was one king who did not even try to charm her, a tall and lean fellow by the name of Jamison Poppadopalas II, king of a small island in the middle of the ocean. He was becoming something of a regular appearance at events Hyrule hosted and although a rather conceited asshole, he did not have any remotely grandiose schemes for greater lengths of power like many of her suitors. A look at him with the Mask of Truth and all she saw was longing for acceptance in conflict with a desire to see everyone suffer as he had.

During one ball, an assassination attempt is thwarted singlehandedly by Jamison by means of his cunning and improvised weaponry (a candleabra, two forks and a glazed ham to be exact). Out of gratitude, Zelda invited him to a private meeting in her garden. There, he admtited that he thought the assassination was part of the event plans because "mortal peril is a cornerstone of the parties I'm usually invited to." But he's touched by the sincerity of Zelda's gratitude, the two beginning to grow closer as the years passed.

For Zelda, the greatest example of her trust was coming out to him as gender-fluid and her Sheik identity. He accepted these parts of her and in return, showed her the ruined splendor of his island. It was nothing but old machinery overgrown by plants that bite, a couple Chain Chomps wandering about too. But in the epicenter of it all, was a strange green pipe that the he invited her into to show her "where I'm originally from". Jumping in revealed it to be a two-way magic portal between the Zelda universe and a land that Jamison introduced as the Mushroom Kingdom.

From that day forth, Zelda was fully enamored with Jamison, or Waluigi as he's better known by. Secret holidays out to the Mushroom Kingdom were a common practice for the two, she even hit it off with Wario. With the rest constantly adventuring or participating to a prestigious fighting tournament without him, Waluigi often had plenty of time to himself which he spent in Hyrule. He revolutionized the plumbing industry, his innate understanding of Pirhana Plants earned him renown among the Kokiri as he could tame the Deku Babas, Gorons appreciated his engineering prowess, but greatest of all was how in Zelda he found someone who never saw him as the "wannabe loser" he always had been. The Mario Brothers, Wario, Peach and DK were all god-blessed Star Children (actually canon, this was used to explain their superhuman capabilities) and he was in their league through nothing but his own training and determination, but he never achieved renown in the Mushroom Kingdom.

But in Hyrule, he found a place he was wanted. Zelda proposed to him and the two had a royal wedding, Wario his best man. Over the centuries, his presence persisted in Twilight-Zelda's height, Tetra's gremlinisms, even HW-Zelda's stubborness in the face of impossible odds. Many of his descendents take a little after him, the current Zelda having his laugh.

I recall one key inspiration for why I went with this idea was because of the best mod ever devised for OoT;

And that's why Waluigi is a huge part of my continuity's history!

[piratesofhyrule]

I was planning on having something to that effect happen in me fic. She becomes a dragon-woman afterwards

nintendo made a major fumble by not making zelda turn into a dragon furry after her corruption . sorry but a full human reversion after 1000 years as a mindless dragon is just. cop out

[silentsockfeet]

the fact that the vi vs jinx fight was foretold from the beginning. the fact that the opening credits ends with their fight immortalized in stone, so that every episode you watch is a reminder of the immutable truth of it. the fact that every moment is building to this, that the show will culminate in this. this was always going to happen, they told us this from the beginning, and nothing anyone could do will ever change that.

[mobius-m-mobius]

#there are two types of actors 😂💖

[stil-lindigo]

the fox god.

a comic about a trickster.

--

creative notes:

–

all my other comics

store

[arcanegifs]

All endings of Vi and Jinx's Stories from Legends of Runeterra's Arcane S1 Event ↳ "Heh. Sure. With family like you... who needs enemies?."

[inkskinned]

yesterday while feverish i wrote about how boats can moor next to each other like pigeons, cooing with the gentle rap of water against their hull. you once said that that the way i see things - birds in the water, feathers in marina paint - was "childish and naive." you said i'd been misdiagnosed - "it can't all be adhd. you might be just kind of stupid and lazy."

i still do certain things like how you taught me - turn the pillow case inside out before putting it on. drive defensively. hate myself entirely.

the prompt for this poem is "mahler's fifth." i wish it wasn't, but mahler's fifth was our song. it ended up in my book. every person that knows your name has promised me they'll give you one swift rabbit punch, right to the face. dean read the book and showed up on my front porch, drenched in sweat from running the 8 miles at 4 in the morning. he was shaking. pacifist and gentle - he works with children - i'd never seen him furious. a punch isn't going to do it, he said, and then said i'm sorry. i had to come to see if you were okay.

mahler's fifth was mine first, like my girlhood. i like the way each movement piles onto the next movement, each instrument bleeding into the next. i like the horn version the best. before i met you, i danced to it on grass still-wet from sprinklers.

later you would tell me that the way you heard it was somehow better. you understood something in it that i couldn't quite wrap my fingers into. once, on our anniversary, you asked the classical music radio station to play it for us. we missed hearing it because we were fighting. one of the things people get wrong about abuse is that sometimes victims are, like, brutally aware of the stupidity of our situation. what do you mean that you thought i wasn't good enough for you? you? you're just... nothing.

sometimes people can pull the poetry out of your life. i watched my words become clothesline, and then thin out into kite twine. i watched you chew through every good syllable of me. so many good songs and places and moments were ruined. i am glad you didn't like most of my music - less to tie back to you.

but still mahler's fifth. the music swells, and i am 21 and throwing up in a bathroom on my birthday. a woman i will later refer to as lesbian jesus runs a cool hand down my back, her perfect pantsuit starch-pressed. she told me to leave you. she said - and this is true, and not an invention of rhyme or fantasy - i'm you from the future.

i am 22, and i got home from an award ceremony, and i remember you telling me - you act so proud of yourself when you're actually so fucking embarrassing. i took you to disney world. you took my virginity. i gave up visiting spain for a week with my family - i instead choose you, to spend the time just-cuddling. you called it "our fuck week." the music swells. it probably should have been a red flag that for about 3 years - i just gave up on crying. my grandfather died and you said nothing. my uncle died and you ghosted me for 3 weeks. you said i need to protect myself from your ongoing tragedy.

every so often i come back to the memory of one of our last afternoons in person. i had just told you that i wasn't going to law school, despite the free ride - i was going to join a creative writing program. master's in fine arts. i was going to finally do it - i was going to follow my dreams. this blog was already internet-famous. however reluctantly, i would occasionally refer to myself as a poet. i got into umass amherst's writing program for fiction authors. it is one of the the top 5 programs in the country.

wait are you seriously considering actually attending that? dumbfounded, you turned completely towards me in your seat. for the 3rd time in our relationship, you almost crashed the car. you actually want to be a writer?

the first time i went viral, it was for a poem i wrote about you:

he wants to say i love you but keeps it to goodnight because love will take some falling and she's afraid of heights.

every time i see that, i want to throw up. you weren't in love with me, you were in love with the control you had over me. a little truth though: i am afraid of heights. you caught a rabbitgirl and skinned her alive.

mahler's fifth still makes me sick.

give me that back. give me back music. give me back everything i had before you. give me back fearlessness. give me back bravery. give me back a scarless body.

give me back what you took from me.

[thedreadvampy]

Losing my shit about this article in which a transphobic Tory was so busy panicking about existing in the vicinity of a Trans that she almost certainly misheard "jeans" as "penis" and decided that not only was this a problem with the other woman, but also that the world must be informed of this pressing danger.

"a trans woman! I had to stand directly behind her....I thought, 'this is going well', I'm handling The Situation fine'..."

translated: I saw a tall woman with broad shoulders. How would I get out of this alive? I thought. she has a PENIS. PENIS PENIS PENIS. through some force of PENIS I mean will I managed to PENIS behave normally towards her. My hands were PENIS PENIS PENIS shaking as I tried to dry them. summoning up all my PENIS courage I said 'dryer's crap innit'. she turned to me and said " yeah I'm just goiPENIS PENIS PENIS"

It's been a week and I'm still shaking. This proves trans women are the problem and I'm not weird. I'm fine. It's fine. If you think about it I'm the hero hePENIS!!!!!

very this

[egophiliac]

swipes everything else off of the table to yell about diasomnia flower bookmarks

(I gave Silver one too :D)

[dcxdpdabbles]

I don’t know if you’ve done something like this before, but I always see Danny as the bigger brother and Damian as the younger brother. What if it was swapped and Damian was the older brother? I feel like there’s so many ways this could go.

Maybe Damian was a really good big brother and loved Danny, but it was seen as a weakness and Danny was taken away from him by Talia or Ra’s? And when he arrives at Gotham, he’s used to being the big brother not the baby brother, and doesn’t know how to react.

Or maybe Damian was a bad older brother and now that he’s a part of the batfam he can see how older brothers are meant to treat their siblings, and regrets his and Danny’s relationship?

Or maybe, he didn’t even know about Danny and feels he’s been replaced as the Demon’s heir. (Especially with Danny’s powers – I feel like Damian would just think that he’d been replaced by a better model)

I hope this makes sense. Idk I just feel there’s so many possibilities.

Ten years old: Damian

Damian bursts and slams the door of his room, fuming. It makes a nasty crack appear on the door frame, which he knows will get him another scold once Pennyworths spots it.

As if that servant has any right to speak to him, let alone reprimand him. Pennyworth seems to be under the impression that his impish wit is appropriate behavior when addressing the masters of the house.

Why does Father tolerate such behavior? Damian will never know. If it were his grandfather or Mother Pennyworth's entire bloodline, it would have been erased for even thinking about it.

Perhaps it is due to Father's modest way of living.

Damian had been shocked to find that his esteemed father, the one he had spent his entire life proving he was worthy to meet, lived in such a tiny manor. Damian was raised in castles upon private islands with an army of servants. He at first thought it was due to Father wanting to live without many earthly possessions, to appreciate the green of the world, and to live honorably.

He had no idea his Father simply couldn't afford the lifestyle Damian grew up in.

If that wasn't bad enough, Father seemed attached to his idiotic and weak adoptive brood. He acted as if they were blood children! What's worse is that he expected Damian to do the same. Then, when Damian treated them like blood siblings and took them as a real threat to his inheritance and tried to eliminate them, his father grew upset with him!

That is not how you treat your brother. Father had sneered at him once he threw Drake over the railing of the cave. He thought the man would have been proud he had been able to catch the smartest one off guard, had been clever enough to lure him to the edge.

Damian had been sent to his room, forbidden from training and going out on patrol while the rest of the brood had gone out. He had been punished like a child.

He throws himself onto his bed, muffling his outrage screams into his pillow—a terrible habit he only allowed himself to partake in when alone.

"Not how you treat a brother," he scoffs, his lips moving in his native tongue but his voice muffled against his pillowcase. Suddenly, a flash of bright blue eyes that used to stare up at him in trusted awe crosses his mind. His scowl deepens as he squishes the image, just as he had tramped on that foolish trust years ago.

Everyone knew that blood siblings were the only competition that needed to be eliminated. He may have allowed himself the passing fancy of caring for his younger brother back in his youth, but Damian had outgrown such attachments.

He had no time for them.

He was disadvantaged in the Wayne household since now he was the youngest and not the eldest. Damian would not allow himself to be dealt with as Dann- as his younger brother had.

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

Fourteen years old: Damian

Damian took a deep breath, allowing Gotham's crisp, foggy air to rush into his lungs, bringing peace alongside it. He sat with his legs crossed and his arms resting comfortably upon his knees, palms facing the sun, on top of the large boulder his father had installed inside of Damian's meditational garden.

The meditational garden had been his eleventh birthday present.

Back then, Damian had still been getting used to living with the man, and it had taken only a tiny argument where Damian may have let it slip that even the gardens were wrong and he hated living here.

It hadn't meant anything to Damian, just a show of his lack of control over his emotions, but Father had taken it rather seriously. He felt he needed to help Damian find comfort in his new surroundings.

His father had rearranged the entire west garden to reflect the Chinese-inspired gardens where he used to sit with his mother. The first time Damian saw the revealed landscaped project, he felt his breath hitched at how accurate everything was.

He hadn't known tears had fallen from his eyes until Richard had wiped them off for him.

Damian often found himself retreating to his garden- for it was his. Father had allowed him to fence it off, keeping all his other Waynes Siblings out of Damian's space- whenever life got too complicated at the manor.

He would go. He found that all his life lessons on how to handle blood siblings, killing, and basically everything Damian was got him yelled at and regarded as a monster rather than a prodigy.

He went here when it became apparent that he was not making friends with others his age in or out of the Robin suit. When Drake, Todd, and Richard laugh, they reference stories or experiences foreign to Damian.

He came to this garden the day he realized that his mother loved him, but only under certain conditions. He no longer fit those conditions, so she threw him away.

He had been eleven, then twelve, then thirteen, yet the pain of her betrayal had never lessened. The directionlessness that haunted his ever-waking hour threatened to drown him most days, especially as he found it harder and harder to be content with his peers.

Damian may not fit in places, but he did here in his meditational garden. He felt himself pulled to the large, smooth boulder right by the pavilion, for its shape reminded him of long days past.

Damian had survived all the changes in his life because of this boulder. It was tall, smooth, and a good two heads taller than he, even after hitting a growth spurt on his thirteenth birthday.

He remembers hopping on three nearby rocks to reach the top, just as his younger brother used to do in Mother's garden. Had the boy also used the tallest boulder to escape the dread of his uselessness? Did he, too, used to sit in the same pose, breathing slowly and evenly, attempting to tame the unease that rested underneath his skin?

Had he gone back to Mother's garden if Damian had failed in removing him from the line of succession?

The brief reminder of the boy makes Damian stomach roll.

The reason why he chose this boulder for meditation didn't matter. Damian had made his choice all those years ago. He had not regretted his actions back then.

Now, he had to live with what he had done.

He takes another deep breath, trying to suppress the impish laughter of his younger brother, who used to smile at him like he hung the stars and the moon.

When he breathes out, the laughter turns to screams. The echo of mother's dark laughter and Father's weeps.

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

Nineteen years old: Damian

Damian is hard at work within his WE office. He has been recently placed in charge of the Meta-Youth Outreach community, and he wants to show Tim and Father that he can be trusted with such an important role.

Every day, more Metas were popping up in younger generations. Unlike when Damian was a boy, the kids seemed unafraid to show off their powers. Their peers rallied around them loudly, demanding tolerance just as the generations before them demanded for the LGBT and POC communities.

Of course, not all of them, but enough that Damian felt there was real hope for future metas. It wasn't taboo to carry the gene anymore. That was leaps and bounds ahead when he had been running around as Robin.

He now worked under a new title, Crow, and had passed placed Robin in retirement. Now, the title and role sit in the cave, waiting for someone new to take up its call.

Jason joked that two years was far too long, and Father was due to arrive soon with another blue-eyed, dark-haired child ready to take on the world. Damian can hardly wait. He is ready to train and inspire the new Robin.

Maybe it will even be a meta child. Duke and Jarro were tired of being the only ones with powers in the family.

I might even find the next Robin on this list. Damian thinks with a chuckle, reading over the children's names his program would be housing this coming summer. He designed the camp to help teens learn to control their powers in a safe environment but also let them meet others like them and help them build meaningful relationships.

It was mostly kids who just unlocked their meta genes—most facing a traumatic event, but others waking up one day with the power no longer dormant.

He did not want the kids to feel like they were being sent to a lab to be studied. Damian knew something about being angry, confused about the change, and wanting to help them find their way.

He also had some experience with meta children. After all, his younger brother had been a meta. Damian's mother had convinced him that Danyal's powers made him a better heir and, thus, a bigger threat.

He had befriended his brother to lure him to his death, but he had taken time to help him learn of his ice powers, and for a while, he had made Danyal truly happy.

Damian could never make it up to him, could never wash away the blood on his hands, and even though he had told his family long ago, even though Father had wept, his father and brothers had forgiven him.

Damian is grateful, but he has not forgiven himself.

He hadn't been the one to land the killing blow on Danyal; it had been his mother who took the dark honor. Danyal hadn't looked like the perfect blend of his parents but rather a closer copy of his Father and she hated him for it.

Damian knew he played the most important role in her plan.

He wanted to dedicate his life to bettering the lives of children like Danyal, born with powers in a world that was cruel to his kind. He tried to help create a world where children like him could find resources for help and learn to run around and laugh without a care.

Damian signs on the last acceptance letter—one Danny Fenton, whose parents discovered he became a meta only a few months ago. He wants to come to camp to learn how to use his energy blasts, and he takes a deep breath.

Fifty new children for the Danyal Memorial Movement. Hopefully, he can help them all.

14 years old: Danny

Meanwhile, Danny's adoptive parents know he isn't a meta, as Danny had already told them about Phantom, but Maddie wants to surprise her boy with the meta camp anyway. She knows Danny still looks up to his big brother even after all these years.

The older one did help smuggle him out of the League of Assiasngs the day Ra ordered his death. Talia had loved her sons to the bitter end, and she called upon her two old college friends to raise her youngest in her place.

Jack couldn't agree more with her idea, knowing Danny had followed all the news about Damian. His boy hadn't been able to get closer to his dear elder brother, for doing so would have earned all the hard work his birth mother and elder brother did to get him to safety, but now that Ra and his army have perished, he thinks it's time to reunite the two.

In Talia's memory, they will ensure Danny and Damian meet again.

[the-meme-monarch]

what if i Entirely made up another relationship but with the express intent that they Don’t get together actually. this started out as a lol an lmao even but honestly i think i needed this. cathartically

based on the tags of my post here

👍if you ship scc go away

[jelly-fish-wishes]

“And at that moment, they howled loudly and vanished into the depths of the forest. The two were never seen again.”

[jamiepridejester]

ive done it before but its a classic <3

[bonefall]

Hey, what makes a character a 'plot device but not a character'? And how do you not do that? I'm trying to do it on purpose but also I need to still make them interesting because it's on purpose, yknow?

A good skill to pick up is to learn to criticise criticism itself. A "plot device" is simply a thing that moves the plot along, it's a neutral literary analysis term! Usually, when people are angry that "a character has been used as a plot device," it doesn't mean they hate plot devices. It means they're gesturing at something deeper.

Runningwind and Bumble are equally plot devices in their deaths. They are both killed by the antagonist to escalate political tension. Runningwind is rarely "accused" of just being a plot device, and yet, we're talking about Bumble for the same thing.

So, why?

Well, Runningwind is just a background character, but in life, he was a part of the community. He was characterized as impatient but responsible. Yet, he wasn't SO important that he died with a bunch of unresolved plot threads.

He is mostly an extension of the entity of ThunderClan. His killing by Tigerstar, and the fear and paranoia that settles on the group after this, feel like a progression of the story insteas of something forced.

Bumble, on the other hand...

Is hated immediately by Gray Wing, when she's established as Turtle Tail's friend. Bumble's abuse at Tom the Wifebeater's hands invites even MORE investment. The rejection is shocking and upsetting. There's a story there about our main characters being imperfect; jealous, bigoted, and judgemental.

But, she is simply killed off. Everything they set up for this character is gone with little personalized fanfare. It's not a tragedy with a lesson about cruelty, or something anyone regrets.

It's just... plot. Gray Wing whinging that no one will like his shitty brother now that his body count is 2.

More than that, in the discussion of women in particular, "Fridging" was coined to give a name to the way women characters often don't get their stories told at all. There is a CULTURAL trend of female characters facing disproportionate violence, for the sake of advancing male plots.

Bumble has a lot going for her. Petal had a lot going for her. Turtle Tail had a lot going for her. Bright Stream had a lot going for her. When they died, they took their potential with them.

It's not always wrong to kill off a character of high potential, mind you. In Gurren Lagann, Kamina's death is sudden and shocking, leaving a massive hole in the hearts of the cast that never heals. Grappling with that loss, but also letting his memory fuel them, is a major theme of that story.

All that to say... there's no formula for avoiding it. You've gotta identify what the deeper issue is, in your specific narrative.

I can't say for certain what that will look like for your story, but here's some things I keep in mind;

When you make characters who exist to die, make sure they're people before you axe them.

Ask yourself; what about them does the cast miss?

If they just miss them because they were (pre-existing relationship), go back to the drawing board.

Fluttering Bird as an example. Who was she? Dead sister. Why do they miss her? Dead sister. No traits until after her death.

Runningwind was short-tempered and helpful. Kamina was a valuable leader who made people believe in a brighter future. Swiftpaw was fiesty and desperate to prove himself. The better characterized, the more profound the loss usually is.

If this is a female character who is dying just to serve the plot, be aware of cultural bias and tropes. How is the gender ratio looking in your cast? Is this happening disproportionately with your girls?

Note how Quiet Rain's litter had both a boy and a girl, but the girl was chosen to be "weaker" and wither away.

And how most of the time in DOTC, whenever a man had to be upset, a girl would get killed for it.

If you ever feel like the character on the chopping block is NOT a full character, ask yourself why it needs to be a character at all. You don't need to spend narrative time building out someone when a literal object of high value might suffice.

"My sister died when I swore to protect her and I can't face my family" = Old. Tired. Ive seen this.

"I lost my heirloom sword when I swore to protect it and I can't face my family." = Fascinating. Why was the sword so valuable? Will they really not take you back? How did you lose it?

When you do kill off "high value" characters, try to make sure you're not leaving too many plot threads hanging. Or at least make a point of how they will never get closure.

[shushmal]

cw: canon minor character deaths, alcohol, drugs, and imprisonment

Okay but non-paranormal au where barb is killed in a drunk driving accident. Steve is arrested and tried as an adult, and doesn’t fight his charges at all. He goes to prison for the full 15. The only reason he doesn’t go to a more high security prison is because the chief of police pulls stings for him.

The entirety of Hawkins vilifies him through the whole trial. His name is practically a curse word in the high school. A lot of people say he did it in purpose. Never showed any remorse, never tried to get himself out of trouble. Never denied anything said about him.

Few years pass and Eddie finds himself arrested and behind bars, and extremely lucky he’s only being charged with drug trafficking and not homocide. Wayne is constantly at his side through the whole thing, and when he’s sent off to prison, Wayne says he’ll visit him as often as he can. Eddie has no idea Wayne’s gone to Hopper to beg him to help his nephew.

So it’s pretty big surprise when Eddie’s led to meet his cell mate and finds Steve Harrington, Hawkins’s own boogeyman: that is until Eddie just dethroned him.

Eddie kinda freaks out because a LOT of wild rumors about Steve has gone around since the accident, a lot of really unsavory claims about him. But Steve is looking at him with a weary but kind smile and says, “hey man, don’t worry, it’s not as bad here as you think.”

And Steve really keeps Eddie out of trouble, even though Eddie is super wary around him. But eventually they bond. Steve’s only on year 2 of his sentence, will still be behind bars when Eddie finishes up his ten. They become in separable over the years, and Eddie still doesn’t find out until they’re both long out of the system, living together now in California, that Steve wasn’t even the one driving the car that night.

[introspectivememories]

sorry but do you ever think about the fact that the bernard we have today is a direct amalgamation of everything that happened in his past and i know that sound like such an obvious statement to say but it actually kills me to know that you can draw a direct line from who he is today all the way back to that sixteen year old boy who watched his best friend bleed out. like it is the defining moment in his life. it fundamentally shaped who he is and the person he's become. he is the bernard we know and love not despite the grieves shooting but because of it. because the gangs all got together and shot up his school. because tim walked out of that room with nothing but a baseball bat. because his darla got shot. because he watched her gasp and cry as she died. because he watched the blood coagulate around the wound. because he sat there and held her hand as her life drained out of her. because he walked into school that day with a joke he knew would make her laugh and her nose would scrunch up and she'd snort a little and tim would roll his eyes at him and call him ridiculous and instead he walked out with a bloody white shirt, blood under his fingernails, and two friends less. because, even now, almost half a decade out from the shooting, he thinks that if he closes his eyes, he will always be that stupid, scared little sixteen year old, holding the cooling body of dead best friend.