#we should bring back text/character based emotes

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Rise Characterizations Pt. 6!!!!!!

After the turtles and Splinter, here we have the girl Ever. She's pretty spunky, I had fun analyzing her for writing.

April O'Neil Character Notes

Language Habits:

Uses bae/aave, something she could have passed on down to Raph and Mikey as they also use bae/aave

Most notably uses "mm-kay" in place of "okay"

Uses a lot of filler language, interjections, or onomatopoeia. Think "mhm", "uh huh, uh huh!", "oh yeah!"

"Ah nuts" is her go-to disappointed phrase

Grits and or strains her teeth when she's frustrated

Uses her own name (the full "April O'Neil!!!!") as a battle cry, or brings her name as a motivator i.e. "the one and only April O'Neil will solve this case!"

The more worked up she the louder she tends to be, this extends to stronger emotions such as passion or panic

Over text uses emoticons

Refers to splinter as "splints"

Refers to the turtles as "the fam"

Refers to villains/antagonists through insults rather than their names

Personality:

Adrenaline junkie, as she's often the first to jump into a fight. She also laughs in the face of danger, and was seen maniacally laughing and smiling the entirety of the gumbus episode

Jack of all trades. April has a lot of skills she's picked up from various jobs or personal adventures she's seeked out (like canoeing through the sewers in a hazmat suit and earning a crane license)

Wild and blunt. April is Loud, and rarely ever afraid to share her opinion. This can either make people draw back from her bluntness or be drawn in by her excitableness

Self-conscious. Despite her strong sense of self-esteem, April is still often motivated to impress the popular kids at school or at least fit in. She doesn't want to be seen as the weird kid, or associated with the weird kids

Persistent. April is always quick on her feet to hit back whatever comes at her. She has a good set of problem-solving skills that she's gained from all the skills she's picked up

Loyal. She's always willing to back up the turtles, and goes out of her way to keep Splinter happy with her company. Once she finds a friend it's hard to pry her away

Unlucky. Mostly in absurd or mundane ways. She has that whole curse with her birthday, but things don't often tend to go right for April O'Neil, which contributes to the disasters that cause her to get fired all the time

Miscellaneous:

Code-named "yellow submarine" by raph

Tends to have information on wifi passwords, secret exists, and access to keys from all the jobs she's been hired and fired from

Has a preference for blunt objects as weapons (most commonly bats, clubs, pipes)

Uses the environment in a fight in general

She's been part of the "warren stone fanclub" since 2010, and keeps all her ids in her wallet

Likes unicorns and cats (as seen through her brief texts with sunita and her pajamas)

Loves laser tag

Can beat Donnie at video games (if he didn't use cheat codes)

"sherlock_corn" is her handle online

Lives in an apartment/flat with her mom (showed onscreen briefly), that has its own bathroom

Has a subtly mentioned interest in fantasy, as noted by Donnie she tends to download fantasy rpgs and freaks out over cosplay wizards

Just an end note to all of you who aren't black, some offensive tropes I would stray from is making April the angry black girl. This is one of the most common stereotypes of black women in media. I wouldn't mistake April's passion or loudness for aggression. It would be a disservice to dilute her lively character into familiar but ultimately harmful tropes in media.

I am in no way saying you cannot portray April as angry, this is a powerful emotion and it should be explored with black characters, but I am saying that should not be the base of her character. Because well that's not even April's base. She's centered around fun and thrill-seeking.

Wikipedia (yes I know, But they have proven to be more dependable these past years) has a good article on the angry black woman stereotype, so that would a good place to start research on what to Avoid. In my splinter post I also provided some links on doing research on writing poc.

---

Anyway!!! We've ended our analysis trip of the main cast in s1. Next I'm thinking of picking apart our antagonists :]. Gonna take a break to work on my own fic, but stay tuned if you found any of my other posts helpful! It's been a fun ride with you all <3

[nondelphic]

Hiiii! May I ask for some advice? After a really long time of not writing fan fic, I recently started getting back into it but have been struggling… So I started using a little bit of the chat.ai help me but I feel icky about it but at the same time, I’m constantly struggling with writers block and being burnt out… What should I do?

i'm actually really glad you asked this because i've been preparing a post about using ai responsibly for writing, might just post it here lol:

tldr: this post isn’t about using ai to generate your story for you. it’s about how to utilize ai to enhance your writing process while still keeping your voice and creativity at the forefront.

the rise of ai has stirred up a lot of talk about ethics, originality, and how much tech should really be in our creative space. as writers, our work is highly personal, it's a reflection of our thoughts and experiences. so it’s totally normal to feel icky about bringing ai into the mix.

here's a hot take, though: ai isn’t here to replace your creativity. it doesn’t get the deep, emotional layers that only a human writer can bring. sure, ai can generate text, but it doesn’t really understand what it’s saying. that’s where some of the ethical concerns come in—if we rely too much on ai, we risk losing that personal touch that makes our stories resonate.

on the flip side, when used thoughtfully, ai can actually boost your creative process instead of taking away from it. think of ai as a helpful assistant, it can take care of some of the boring, tedious stuff, giving you more space to focus on what really matters: writing your story, your way. it’s not about letting ai take over, but using it to support and streamline your process.

this is not a post about my experience with ai, but i have to say, that as someone with adhd, ai has been a game-changer for me. it helps me keep track of my ideas, organize my thoughts, and even manage my writing schedule when my brain is all over the place. it's like having an extra set of hands (or, you know, a brain) to help me stay on top of everything, so i can focus more on the actual creative part of writing.

the key is to make sure ai never overshadows your original voice or creative vision. ai should be a tool that helps you bring your ideas to life, not something that writes the story for you. if you’re curious about how to use ai in your writing process while keeping your authenticity intact, here are some tips to do it responsibly:

brainstorming ideas: when you’re stuck on a plot point or character development, use ai to generate prompts or ideas. these can spark new directions for your story, giving you fresh perspectives to explore.

dialogue experimentation: if your dialogue feels flat, try using ai to generate conversation snippets based on your characters. it might not be perfect, but it can give you new ideas for how your characters might interact.

synonym suggestions: tired of using the same word over and over? ai can help you find synonyms or alternative phrases, keeping your writing fresh without losing your voice. i've found this very helpful as an ESL writer!

outline generation: got a rough idea but need a structure? use ai to create a basic outline, then tweak it to fit your vision. it’s a great way to get a head start on organizing your story.

character backstories: use ai to brainstorm character traits, backstories, or names. you can take these ideas and expand on them, adding the depth and personality that only you can create.

quick research assistance: save time by using ai for quick facts or historical details. it lets you focus more on storytelling and less on getting bogged down in research. (disclaimer: never 100% trust what an ai generates, fact check everything). i've found it a great starting point if i have a very niche question for my research.

editing help: use ai for basic grammar and spelling checks to speed up your editing process. just remember, it’s your judgment that will shape the final draft, not the ai’s.

plot analysis: use ai to scan your draft for plot holes or inconsistencies. it can help identify gaps in logic or missing links in your storyline, giving you a clearer idea of where to tighten things up.

tone consistency: ai can help you maintain a consistent tone throughout your story by analyzing your draft and suggesting adjustments where the tone shifts unexpectedly.

pacing adjustments: ai can review the pacing of your story, highlighting sections that may be too slow or too rushed, helping you find the right balance.

character consistency: track your characters' traits, behaviors, and dialogue to ensure they remain consistent throughout the story, preventing out-of-character moments.

theme reinforcement: use ai to analyze how well your themes are being conveyed across the narrative, suggesting areas where you might strengthen or clarify your message.

draft comparison: if you’ve gone through multiple drafts, ai can compare them to highlight what’s changed, what’s been improved, and what might have been lost in the revisions.

to answer your question more personally, i think we can never please everyone, and ai will continue to be developed and get better and better. i understand feeling icky about using ai, and you might get judged for it, but do what you need to do, tbh.

i have found myself in a writing routine where i use most of the advice above in my writing process. i write most of my work myself, but i use ai as a tool to bounce ideas off of, and it's been a life changer. i managed to finish my first novel draft with the help of ai, and it fuelled my creativity to have "someone" (or rather something) to feed my ideas and help them identify what i could do better.

[bonefall]

Canon Lizardstripe

"Women who don't want children are terrible people and ambitious queens are a unique type of horrible." -The Erins, completely ignoring or even excusing paternal neglect and abuse.

We first see Lizardstripe in Yellowfang's Secret as a general background warrior. She's just doing her job, hunting, patrolling, etc. At one point, she tells a mean joke to Foxheart and they mock Yellowfang like some other members of ShadowClan.

But we really get our INTRODUCTION to Lizardstripe with an exchange between her and Hollyflower, where she asks if Holly is happy that her kits are older now, establishing that Lizardstripe fears being trapped in the nursery.

She is bringing this up because she is pregnant. Lizardstripe is looking for a chance to reveal this, but also for comfort with how she is feeling. This character is pregnant and does not want to be.

But Yellowfang's Secret posits a profoundly misogynistic idea, about to be said first by Hollyflower, and then again, later, by Sagewhisker, that children are a woman's calling.

They are explicitly setting up the fact that Lizardstripe does not want children as something being wrong with her, a flaw as a person.

It is not just the responsibility of a parent, but the duty of every queen, to produce children. That is what is written on this page. Sagewhisker repeats this later, when Lizardstripe is lashing out while being forced to raise the children she does not want.

Here's a peek ahead to Sagewhisker's words of 'wisdom'

It's TOO BAD that Lizardstripe is in a terrible position she never wanted to be in which makes her actively uncomfortable. Tough coconuts. Nothing Can Be Done. She should just get over it and be happy lol.

But anyway, back to the Hollyflower/Lizardstripe exchange.

Lizardstripe points out the double standard here, which will not be properly addressed by this book, or any other book in the entire series.

Hollyflower immediately shoots this down. She is dismissing Lizardstripe's feelings here, and continues to. We NEVER see Mudclaw taking care of his children or stepping in when his mate is obviously upset, nor is he expected to.

I'm going to post the entire exchange here, just so you can drink in how much Hollyflower is downplaying or even outright ignoring Lizardstripe's feelings of dread.

Lizardstripe is a person who desperately doesn't want to be in this situation,

But it is supposed to be SHOCKING that she does not want children. Hollyflower cannot believe that Lizardstripe is being honest about her feelings, and is trying to comfort her based on the idea that it's just nervousness.

Because, how could it even be so that a woman would not want children? This entire exchange is based on the assumption of this narrative that mothers are supposed to be primarily responsible for the children, it is good and right and their natural state.

In fact, Yellowfang desperately wanting to be with the kits she's being forced to abandon is meant to be a contrast of how powerful this idea is supposed to be.

Yellowfang wants kids = Good. Lizardstripe doesn't want kids = Bad.

Even when Yellowfang is thinking about how she wants to share the *~experience~* of being a first-time mother and confide in her about her worries, it's missing the point completely that Lizardstripe doesn't want to BE a parent.

This text completely reduces Lizardstripe to a mother who sucks. It has no interest in her deeper life, or the idea she could have a valid emotional reason for not wanting children, or real resentment towards being forced to take care of babies for 6 months while her husband lives life as usual.

And no one cares. No one helps. No one can even fathom the very idea that a woman doesn't want kids.

But that's not enough. Next, they slap the trait of "ambition" onto this character, having never displayed it before, because that explicitly makes her a less trustworthy person to raise Brokenkit. This book was written after TNP, remember, the arc where Brambleclaw throws a tantrum for 6 books about how ambition shouldn't be a bad thing.

Ambition is only bad if you're a woman who should be happily taking care of babies I guess.

(Timeskip to Brokenkit being given to Lizardstripe;)

Raggedpelt: "This is an HONOR you bitch. You should be grateful that you're getting this opportunity to be responsible for more children. There's no other queens here so you don't really have a choice anyway but fuck you."

Yellowfang: "What kind of life will this child have, being exposed to ambitious women :( ?"

(im not actually that mad with yellowfang, she's really doing nothing wrong in this whole book besides be miserable, but this wording is so terrible I have to laugh at it or I will explode instead. someone wrote this)

Later Lizardstripe glowers and puffs when she gets praise after her kits come out of the nursery for the first time, though. So what they're trying to set up is that she is just a selfish bitch who only cares about her own status, without "real" pride in her kits.

We see THREE situations after the kits are born where Lizardstripe is doing something bad towards them;

The previous situation, when Brokenkit is being foisted on her, where she's lashing out, shouting about how she doesn't want to raise everyone's unwanted children

Shortly after, where Sagewhisker prevents Yellowfang from interacting with Lizardstripe in the nursery, but reports she isn't happy about being forced to feed another child.

This next one, which is a secondhand account from Brokenkit;

After Broken's adopted littermates start bullying him and Yellowfang prevents them from all getting into a physical fight, we get this;

So, actually, we don't even have direct evidence that Lizardstripe is setting the kits against each other. We only know for sure that she is frustrated that Brokenkit is drinking her milk. Sagewhisker has completely prevented Yellowfang from spending time with Lizardstripe to see the truth for herself or influence this.

Lizardstripe didn't want kids and doesn't like breastfeeding 4 of them at once. EEEEVIL WOMAN!

So, it's possible that she punishes Brokenkit differently from the other three. It's likely that the four of them are aware they are not wanted. But Brokenkit didn't even learn this from Lizardstripe, he heard her talking to Amberleaf.

So you're meant to infer all of this from what the writer DID set up earlier in the Holly/Lizard convo and the Brokenkit Handoff scene; That Lizardstripe does not want to be a mother.

THAT is what the author chose to use to establish that Lizardstripe is abusive.

Women not wanting kids = bad.

Duty of a queen = to produce children

Mudclaw, the father = nowhere in sight; unaddressed.

Ambition in women = sign of abuse

After her kittens are apprenticed, Lizardstripe returns to the warrior's den with "a sigh of relief." The last time we see her in Yellowfang's Secret is Chapter 31, in a book with 40 chapters total. She growls at Yellow that she's busy talking to Raggedstar, and is eventually sent to bedrest with marigold treatment for a rat bite.

That "ambition" never comes back, because they only gave it to her as shorthand for selfishness. Ambition in women is Bad, they should just be happy to raise babies, apparently.

I think the way they wrote this character, what they chose to focus on to establish that she's a bad person, and everything they added in Yellowfang's Secret is deeply misogynistic. Lizardstripe isn't shown to be bad because she is cruel; Lizardstripe is shown to be bad because she resents motherhood.

And that's very frustrating.

Didn't Lizardstripe refuse to give her kits milk, and not care about them bullying Brokenkit? I haven't read the books in a while so I might be remembering wrong, but she seems like somebody who didn't want to be a mother and took it out on the kits consciously and unconsciously

Your memory's just a little bit off; she's mad at Brokenkit for "stealing milk" from her own children.

The way that the writers use Lizardstripe legitimately makes me so angry that I spite-fixed it REALLY hard in my own AU. She isn't JUST abusive, they created a female character whose only personality trait is not wanting to be a mother, and made her evil for it.

There is nothing deeper to the character they wrote. They try to tack on "ambition" to her as ANOTHER reason why she is so awful, but then don't actually show her gunning for any positions of power like Foxheart.

Until the spectacular blunder that is the 7 Fridgenings of DOTC, Lizardstripe was one of the most misogynistic bits of writing in the whole series.

[tkmk]

this is literally just the social justice variant of the "we paid a freelancer to say something you like is dogshit" thing. best thing to do would be to ignore it but this is the internet and that's never going to happen, is it?

[ootahime]

analyzing every gojohime moment in the manga >:) pt. 3

more and more paragraphs ahead.  BE PREPARED!

i’m also writing this at 3 am so please bear with the horrendous grammar and punctuation.

chapter 63

i know he’s probably like this with everyone but i love how excited he is bragging about his students to her.  he’s like a child telling his mother about an amazing adventure he had with his friends, making sure he mentions every detail.  in the anime, their conversation lasted for 3:41 :3 backwards 341 is 143 which means i love you.  

1 letter = i

4 letters = love

3 letters = you

chapter 63

i love her fit!  i also like how both of them like to wear baggy clothing that accentuates their collarbones `w` it’s like they’re matching in a way.  even if she did tell him to cut the crap, she still let him run his mouth to his content LOL i feel like if he didn’t compliment himself at the end, she would have said something different.  UGH HE LOOKS SO HAPPY CALLING HER

 ah, let me translate the conversation just in case anyone needs it.

utahime: you wanted to talk about the investigation, right?

gojo: well, got any idea who?

utahime: i have no idea.  no one seems suspicious.  what do we do now?  should we ask the students for help?

gojo: yeah, that’s fine.  i’m busy so asking the kids would be okay.  keep looking.  i’m counting on you.

I THINK THAT’S WHAT THEY’RE TRYING TO SAY.

OR it could mean that she’s asking if they should start investigating the students.  it would make sense either way because gojo says in the next panel that he doesn’t want to assume that the mole is a student, and in chapter 79, gojo sends the trio to utahime to help her.  

chapter 63

these two love their students to death.  neither of them wanted to assume that the mole was a student.  in chapter 79, when utahime is talking to the trio about the mole, nobara points out to the group that the traitor must be from kyoto because utahime is the one who’s reaching out to the tokyo side.  utahime has a dismal look on her face, almost like she’s saying, “i didn’t want it to turn out this way -- for this to be true.”  after mechamaru says his farewells to miwa on the train, mai tries to talk about what he did to which utahime says, “it doesn’t matter, he’s dead, after all,” with a similar sunken expression.  i just love how her care for the students is one of the biggest aspects of her personality that’s been showcased so far.  it’s also cool how it ties together with gojo’s belief that no child’s youth should be taken away.  i truly think these two have the capacity to understand each other to a deep level, down to the core.  seeing as utahime is also a teacher, it’s safe to assume that she also wants to raise the next generation of sorcerers to be strong.  utahime and gojo’s similarities and contrasting elements are so interwined, i really wonder if it’s intentional.  like am i looking too much into this?  are utahime and gojo really meant to be this connected?  think about it.  similar motivations, care of the kids, contrasting palettes, the bickering, long history.  IT’S JUST TOO MUCH. 

also can we mention how their phone calls and meetings must be heavily planned out?  this means they’ve talked and interacted with each other A LOT behind the scenes.  she doesn’t answer his call with “what do you want?  don’t bother me on my day off.”  she knows exactly why he’s calling her and they even speak in code.  she probably meets up with him and tells him to call her on a specific day and at a specific time.  they must know each other’s schedules very well in order to execute this investigation in complete secrecy.  when he says, “we can never be too sure who is listening in around utahime” it implies that they find calling a risk, so in order to guarantee that there is no one around, they have to meet up in person.  see where i’m getting at?  they talk A LOTTT and most likely are aware of each other’s daily lives.  

the fact that gojo is her main source of stress when he’s literally a 3 hour train ride away from her is hilarious LMAOOOO.  you know what that means, right?  he must call and text her constantly about random things to annoy her.  

chapter 65

ah yes, my favorite moment by far.  look at that smile on his face.  

chapter 65

he loves saying her name.  he probably rushed over with the sole purpose of doing something like this to her LMAOOOO like i mean, mei was in there with her so technically they both needed to be helped but judging from his words and expression, he only wanted to help utahime.  notice how mei’s not there in the debris.  could she possibly have suspected gojo’s presence or an outside force?  or was she fast enough to avoid being in the debris?  either way, her lack of presence in this scene helps highlight the fact that this is a special interaction between utahime and gojo.  he refers to her in a very familiar sense.  the most formal way to address someone is by their last name followed by the honorific, -san.  in gojo’s case, he should be calling her iori-san if they weren’t acquainted.  he doesn’t even bother to call her utahime-senpai.  granted, gojo is not the most respectful and socially competent person out there because geto points this out to him.  he isn’t even aware that she finds him annoying because he views her bad attitude toward him as her just playing along with him.  he probably thinks she’s flirting back LOLOL

since he asks her “you cryin?” that definitely means that gojo witnessed her crying on one occasion or maybe multiple.  who knows, the old utahime could have been a very emotional person.  while this is happening, mei is close to gojo, she then asks him if he would console her if she were to cry in a flirtatious manner.  gojo dismisses her attempt at flirting with him and says she won’t cry because she’s strong.  now normally, you’re supposed to face the person you’re talking to, GOJO.  he KEEPS his eyes on her even when more people come to join the conversation.  

now, we can all agree that geto, mei, and shoko are better at picking up social cues than gojo.  they probably knew the vibe of the conversation and decided to play along with gojo’s antics.  

chapter 65

WE were worried about you.

pay attention to the order of the characters that show up.  gojo makes his appearance first, then geto, followed by shoko.  based on utahime’s reaction to seeing shoko, it’s evident that these two share a close bond.  shouldn’t shoko be the one to arrive on the scene first?  she’s the closest to utahime and would therefore be more concerned about her condition, right?  i know shoko’s technique doesn’t really allow her to do anything other than treat the wounds of others, but if you heard your friend was missing, you would definitely rush to the scene.  

look at geto’s reaction when mei says, “you’re the one who’s picking on her, geto.  you don’t even know it.”  i think it’s mei who’s saying this because gojo calls geto “suguru”.  but anyway, mei is aware that they’re picking on her.  i don’t think she’s the type to legitimately bully someone for their strength.  her reaction to all of this is very playful and her “heh heh heh” is proof of that.  when geto shows up and swallows the curse before it gets to utahime, he says, “satoru.  it’s not nice to pick on the weak.”  by saying this, he pisses utahime off because he too, is joining in on gojo’s joke.  i believe he’s unaware that he’s making fun of utahime because his reaction is “gah!” with a sweatdrop.  he probably thought gojo was making fun of weak people in general.  

geto’s usually a gentleman seeing as it is canon that he is more popular with girls than gojo.  BUT WHO KNOWS...you gotta be a specific type of person to be best friends with gojo.  maybe he ain’t shit too...  okay, my point is that everyone is just playing along.  when shoko shows up, utahime is relieved to see her because shoko doesn’t tease her like this.  since utahime tells shoko to not become like those two, this implies that geto teases her as well (probably not as much as gojo).  we all know geto is really big on looking out for the weak so he probably wouldn’t have insulted her for real.  

verdict: utahime being weak is just a joke.  i’ve mentioned this so many times, sorry if it’s getting annoying and repetitive hehehehehe...

chapter 65

these three aren’t irresponsible.  geto and gojo are a troublesome duo for sure, but they’re dependable.  seems unlike them to forget something so simple and essential to pretty much every mission.   

chapter 65

here’s my headcanon.  they were hanging outside or in the car when their assistant manager got a call.  the assistant was informed that two days have elapsed since mei and utahime went on their mission (or last contacted someone).  

gojo: that’s weird.  mei’s with her so they should have finished exorcising the spirit sooner.

geto: you think something happened to them?  maybe it’s a strong special grade.

gojo: utahime probably dragged mei down with her.  poor mei-san~  

gojo gets up 

geto: where are you going?  

gojo: going to save utahime!  it’s fine i’ll put up a curtain!

manager: gojo wait!!!!!!!!!!!

geto sighs

shoko: that idiot’s always running off without us.

they pin the blame on gojo for saying that he’ll put up a curtain and leaving the assistant manager behind.  you know what this means?  he ran and the manager couldn’t catch up HEHE... why the rush, gojo?  were you actually concerned about her?  

tbh i don’t see gojo ever running to something unless it’s urgent.  the fact that he ran to save her says a lot.  

----

let me know if you have any thoughts or questions!  i forgot to add this but gojo had a more serious expression when he was explaining how they must’ve been trapped in a barrier that messes with time.  he then states, “we thought it was weird even though you’re here, mei.”  i know he was probably worried sick because if mei couldn’t be contacted then that means something must’ve happened to utahime too.  okay that’s it for now.  i’ll be bringing up this little detail i’ve noticed about utahime in the manga next :3

[technowoah]

Cant Handle This

Quackity's facade keeps breaking, and he tries to keep the pieces together. You're the only one who can make him show his true self

- Quackity x gen neutral reader

- this is a long one yall.

Now playing...

Can't Handle This (Kanye Rant)

Bo Burnham

0:01 ─●──────── 3:29

⚠︎ swearing, angst, mentions of mcyttwt, based on the song above, and ofc its not proofread

Part of my Inside Special!

Quackity sat in his chair currently streaming right now, he seemed like he was having a good time from your spot on his bed. You were currently laying on his bed after he invited you here to relax.

You two had laid in his bed just enjoying eachothers company until he got a call from Tommy saying he was ready for the lore stream which sent Alex into a frenzy. Alex sent out a quick "Im sorry" about the lateness of his stream and then quickly set everything up.

He then started to stream which left you alone on the the bed to your own devices. You were scrolling through Twitter looking at Alex's fans talk about what's happening on the stream and posting screenshots of his character and himself.

You admired him from afar as he ended the lore part of his stream, he took time to type on his phone to text you that he decided to stream longer to talk to his fans. He looked to you and you have him a nod with a smile and he gave one back.

"Hey guys! That's the end of the lore!" He exclaimed to his chat as he types at his computer setting a new background.

You continued to listen to him praise his chat for supporting him and making him be able to make those types of streams. You were always proud of Alex no matter what he did, you were always his number one supporter no matter what happened in reality or on the internet.

"So anyways! I wanted to talk to you guys! How are you all?" He smiled at his camera looking back and forth from his chat.

◇T0mm71nn1t: THE STREAM WAS SO GOOD QUACKITY

"Oh thank you! Im glad I could share this with you. It takes so much to put into these movite type streams, so I know now it is all worth it."

Quackity's pov. . .

He felt so overwhelmed, he shouldn't have began to stream again. The stress of putting everything together, plus being late to the stream made him rush into it more. He just wanted to lay back down with his lover who was enjoying watching him stream, and that's the goal he wants. His goal was to entertain, it was his job and he doesn't want to fail, he doesn't want to crack.

◇Mayatooni3: WE LOVE YOU QUACKITY

◇catiiequak: QUACKITY ITS MY BIRTHDAY CAN I GET A HAPPY BIRTHDAY??

◇yriaaolic: 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

"Happy Birthday!" He said seeing the comment pass in a second. "Happy Birthday to anyone who's Birthday it is today."

Right now it was hard. It was hard to keep up when there was always a constant demand, the constant need to be perfect, his past being brought up, and trying to one-up his content everytime. He loved this, but at the same time it had the same weight as a job.

In the back of his mind he knew the "When is Quackity streaming???" is mostly lighthearted, he never wants to leave.

"Quack are you okay? Im fine! Just thinking about how to get something to eat at 2am." He laughed lying to his fans, he wanted to stop this stream.

He kept looking over to his lover lying their head on his pillow scrolling through their phone and alternating their vision from him and their phone. He always caught a glimpse of their small smile everytime he looked. He was doing something right.

"Do yall think Taco Bell is open? The only problem I have is that Im fucking starving."

He paused for a moment taking a deep breath trying to keep his emotions down. The stress was getting to him, and he fucking knew it, but he didnt stop. He was going to get burnt out eventually and stop streaming and YouTube all together, but he needed this. He needed a break, he needed to take time for himself and stop putting on a happy face when he isnt.

TTS ◇pulixsaxe: "Did you see what was happening on Twitter quackity?"

"Wait what's happening on Twitter?" He asked with a weary laugh.

I can sit here and pretend like my biggest problems are

Pringle cans, and burritos

The truth is, my biggest problem's you,

Your eyes widened as he mentioned Twitter. Truth be told he was trending because of his stream, yes, but also they brung up stuff from his past again in the wake of another content creator's past or present being brought up. You hadn't paid attention to that, you were only getting fueled up from Twitter bringing up an issue that he already had addressed.

Tempted to speak and tell him its fine, he already spoke up before you.

"I bet it's fine! I dont wanna... I don't need to look." He said with a smile. He always had that smile on.

Either it was a full smile or a half smile. It never left his face and it comforted you somehow. Maybe it was that you were his significant other, but you always wondered if anyone saw the same things as you. The things like his smile that never left his face.

"Yeah! I dont need to look at that." He waved his hand dismissing the comment away. He then sighed letting his shoulders relax as you saw his smile fade and his eyes close for a second and immediately put that small smile back on his face while his eyes were glossy, but bright.

He needed to end this stream soon. You saw his face fall then in a split second come back to life except his eyes were glossy with tears. You wondered if anyone else noticed.

"I want to please you

But I want to stay true to myself

I want to give you the night out that you deserve"

His eyes tearful as he tried to blink them away trying to not make a scene.

"Sorry! Allergies ugh!" He said as he wiped his tears away claiming them as allergies.

"Are you crying? No! Im not a pussy!" He yelled at his chat in a joking manner.

He was crying and he felt weak. He felt emotionally weak, and weak as in not strong, he didn't feel strong and his lover who was sitting on his bed with a concerned look on their face always told him that it's okay to feel weak. The only meaningful thing is how you pick yourself up, they always told him, bur now he felt at rock bottom.

He wanted to give his fans "himself", the goofy, lovable, loud, quick-witted, Quackity. But then again his lover always told him to separate Quackity from Alex. He wanted to give himself to his audience, he wanted to be authentic and share himself, but he cant. Alex isn't all laughs, he is serious, calmer, and when he gets on the screen is when he lets it all out then goes back to his more calmer self. That's not what they want.

"But I want to say what I think

And not care what you think about it"

Giving himself meant dialing back, he wants to tell how hes actually feeling, he wants to say what he thinks about Twitter, what he thinks about certain friends, about his fanbase, and then leave it alone. He wanted to delete social media and then speak his mind without knowing what anyone is saying about it. It was paradise to him, but of course it cant be that way and that's what he hates. He feels like a actor when he really wants to be himself.

"A part of me loves you,"

Alex loved his fanbase, he had such a supportive fanbase that loved his content. Some of them did atleast he didn't fully know, but they gave him the courage to do this time and time again knowing that his content is at least taking them from the harsh reality of real life for a few minutes or hours. This was the reason he did this, for them.

Alex would never admit this but they boosted his ego too, it would for anyone. The fact that there were people who wanted and enjoyed content from him made him feel good about himself.

"part of me hates you"

He hated the contant criticisms, he hates that they feed his ego so much that it makes him want to stream more to feel good about himself and to make people get away for awhile. Alex knew inside of his heart he couldn't truly hate his fanbase, they gave him everything he ever wanted. He hates them for that and that's such a scary thing. He never fails to wonder if he did the things to deserve all the love and hate he gets.

"Part of me needs you,"

They feed his ego, they make him want to go above and beyond. Alex knows that his fanbase is the reason he is here in this chair infront of three expensive monitors. He knows that this is some sort of a job that he needed. He needed the push to keep going and that was them, it was the 200k people watching his stream watching him answer questions about him and

"part of me fears you"

He was fearful of loosing himself to them. Loosing his authenticity to them was something he feared. He didnt want his funny, loud persona to consume him and make him forget about Alex instead of Quackity. He fears what they think as well, he claims he doesnt care, but he does he wants to please them. It feels like two parts of his brain fighting about if he should care or not.

"And I don't think that I can handle this right now"

The text-to-speech bot continued to speak out people's comments that theu paid for while he sat there quietly. He bit his bottom lip trying to not break down infront of everyone he needed to be strong. He needed to be strong.

If he looked up at the camera everyone would see his tears, they would see him breaking.

He played it off as he brough his shirt up to wipe the tears away, claiming it as sweat.

"Im good! Im sorry I spaced out for a second." He shook his head.

He saw you look at him with that same concerned look on your face. As he switched his gaze between you and his computer, he felt his tears come back again.

"I don't think that I can handle this right-"

"Alex." You tried to get his attention.

"Yeah guys Im fine!"

"Alex"

"I don't think that I can handle this right-"

"I have plans later for another lore stream, so Ill start doing that later tonight."

"ALEX!" You yelled and his head turned around to face you.

"What?" He laughed, biting his lip again.

You couldn't stop him doing this, you could try to course him into going to bed, but right now you couldn't find the words. You just stared at him while he looked at you with a somber smile trying to tell you that he was okay.

He felt his mind telling himself that he need to rest. He wouldnt allow himself to and thats why he was breaking down.

"I don't think that I can handle this right-"

Alex was blinking rapidly trying to keep his breathing and tears at bay while he answered his fans.

"My allergies are fine! And I drank water today."

◇moonchild21: WE LOVE YOU

◇sopusand: Why do you look like that?

◇wuackityoo: are you crying??

"Crying is for the weak! I am a strong manly man! Im crying cause I noticed how alpha I am!" He tried to play it off as a "Im a man" joke but you could see right through it.

"I don't think that I can handle this right-"

"I don't think that I can handle this right-"

You had sent a quick text to Alex which told him to end the stream for his own mental health, but he left the message unread. He began sniffing and the wiping his eyes again. It was a wreck and you couldn't seem to stop it without literally dragging him out of his chair.

Meanwhile the screens were getting to Alex. Alex's eyes were getting tired of the bright screens and the rapid messages that popped up on the screen overwhelmed him for what it seemed like the first time ever in his strraming career. He wanted to give them the fun night they deserved and wanted, but he knows it's getting hard to. He dosent know how long he can keep this up.

As Alex kept joking around about his eyes and physical state the chat was filled with "LMAO" and "HAHAHA" which fuled him more and then at the same time makes him want to stop.

Look at them, they're just staring at me, like

"Come and watch the skinny kid with a

Steadily declining mental health, and laugh as he attempts

To give you what he cannot give himself"

He cannot give himself the luxury of happiness. As he went on with his career it became more and more like a chore, there was mostly down days and of course there were up days, but recently Alex gave his fans the happiness and laughes they wanted while when he turned off the camera he couldn't replicate that same energy as he had before.

It messed him up, he felt himself become separated from his streaming. He wasn't being himself anymore he was being Quackity and that became more apparent as the days passed. He wanted to be himself on camera and at first thats what he thought he was doing. He was himself then it turned into a persona.

Alex wasn't okay and he he needed to take a break from the internet for a while, but he tries to act like he dosent have a dilemma going on inside of his head everytime he sits in this seat. Its for the fans.

"Think that I can handle this right-

I don't think that I can handle this right-

They don't even know the half of this right-

They don't even know the half of it"

"Alex you need to end the stream. Please?"

He looked towards you again where you moved your position from the middle of the bed to sitting up on the end of the bed.

"Ive told you millions of times." He paused for a moment looking down at his lap before looking back up to you. "Im-Im okay." He nodded trying to convince you.

"But I know I'm not a doctor, I'm a pussy, I put on a silly show

I should probably just shut up and do my job, so here I go"

"Cant you belive them!" He laughed to his camera. You scoffed at his comment but still kept an eye on him as he talked.

You didnt need to baby him at all, but right now you were worried about your lover.

Alex continued talking and talking, which you drowned out. You were focused on his face and how he faltered time to time just showing a small frown.

He laughed and showed them a good time even though he was hurting. He kept going and going and you were convinced he was going to hold out until you heard him sniff multiple times while trying to make a joke about the new Minecraft update and how the glow squid has no use.

"Stupid ass squid! Why- why? Its no use expect for glowing ink. Who voted for that!?"

You can tell them anything if you just make it funny, make it rhyme

And if they still don't understand you, then you run it one more time

"Dumbass squid!" He pulled up a picture if the squid as he yelled at it.

You began to worry even more as you saw tears running down his face. He quickly tried to wipe them away, but he knew everyone saw.

Handle this right

You don't even know the half of this right now

Right now (Haa!)

Now

Handle this right

I'll handle this right, I handle this right now

Alex leaned back in his seat and had a blank stare towards the monitor. Looked down for a second and then you heard sobbing coming from his spot. Alex had his head in his hands and was crying harshly into them.

He had finally broken, he couldn't stop the tears from coming and the loud sobs that came from his mouth. He was trying to desperately breathe in to be able to sob, but ended up hiccuping while doing so.

Your eyes widened as you rushed to him resting your hand on his knees and you kneeling infront of him.

"I cant do fu-fucking anything!" He yelled into his hands.

"Hey! I know. Its okay." You tried to console him.

"Its not I try so hard! And I-"

You cut him off. "You are a hard worker Alex and you deserve a week or two off. Take care of you self babe." You stood up bringing his hand with you and trying to make him stand up. He followed your movements and stood up with you putting his head on your shoulder crying into it.

"I just ca-cant right now!"

"You dont have to do anything right now babe."

"Im sorry!" Alex sobbed.

"Dont be." You said bluntly trying to get your lover to calm down.

You rubbed his back soothingly as he sniffled into your shoulder. "Im sorry for ruining your shirt." He tried to laugh through his tears.

"Dont be sorry! Please. You just need rest okay?" You kissed his forehead and he nodded in response.

Alex raised his head up an started to pepper kisses all over your face as you laughed. He gave you one last peck on the lips as he walked away to quickly change into night clothes. You smiled as he laid underneath the covers and continued to softly cry into his sheets. At least he was in bed and not makijg himself even worse.

He couldn't stop the tears from flowing, it was like a flood that could only be stopped with time. He felt like a boulder was lifted off his shoulders only to be replaced with smaller rocks. The smaller rocks was the guilt he held. He felt guilty of making his lover worry about him, he didnt want you to worry.

You rushed over to his desk and turned off the stream and his computers not even bothering to give them a goodnight or goodbye. After the computer lights were turned off it was quite dark in the room except for small light.

Finally you were where you wanted to be all day, in bed with Alex. But this wasnt the predicament you wanted.

"Forgive me. I just cant do shit right can I?" His eyes were still full of tears and he was getting tired.

"Alex dont listen to anyone but yourself." You tried to console him.

"That's what I'm telling myself."

Silence filled the room as you looked at him through tearful eyes of your own.

"Alex, you're so amazing and I cant even tell you how much I appreciate you, and how much you change my life. You do so much shit right its scary sometimes. Some days I think you're perfect, but there's-"

"There's no such thing as perfect." Alex finished your sentence.

"Exactly! Even the best people have their downfalls, they just dont show it. And Alex I know you struggle with that! All I can say is that I love you for you." You finished.

"Can I talk to you about my dilemmas?" He tried to laugh again.

"Tomorrow we can talk. We both need the rest." You said to him as he closed his eyes and nodded in response. He gave you a kiss on you lips before laying back down to sleep.

"Thank you."

"Thank you

Good night

I hope you're happy"

TRENDING

ARE YOU OKAY

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ARE YOU OKAY QUACKITY?

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[ritualslaughter]

so I mentioned seeing a terrible take saying shigaraki was beyond saving because he willingly murdered his father, and I was gonna leave it be but actually I'm still pissed off about it so here goes nothing:

Shigaraki Tomura, Unreliable Narrator or: Why Shimura Tenko Did Not Intentionally Kill His Father

tw for talks of child abuse - physical, emotional, and psychological - below the cut

okay, so - the aforementioned flaming bad take is obviously based on these caps:

these are taken from 236, when we learn about tomura's (or rather, tenko's, because I think there needs to be a distinction between the two in this case) childhood. from the outset, this seems cut and dry - if you don't read anything other than this, I would excuse you for thinking this is just another case of "crazy kid seeks bloodlust, kills family."

I'm here to tell you why that's a load of bullshit.

okay, let's cover some bases, and talk a little bit about child psychology:

During their development between the age of two to five, children do not understand that death is irreversible. [x]

as we learn in 235, tenko is five when his quirk begins to manifest - his skin starts to dry around his eyes, he develops an itch, and we can assume shortly afterwards is when the actual decay quirk forms.

as stated above, preschool aged children do not have the same concept of death as adults; they think of death as temporary, even fixable. this is how you get children saying things like "but how can grandma breathe all the way down there?" and "did it hurt when they burned daddy?"; to a preschool aged child, death is akin to taking a trip - it is something that can be returned from. [x]

to say that tenko - a child of five years old who has already gone through abuse (a common effect - even in cases where the abuse is not physical - of which being stunted emotional growth/development, and in particular difficulty understanding the consequences of their actions [x] [x] [x]) understands the finality of death enough to comprehend the consequences of a quirk that has only just developed, immediately after the trauma of physical abuse from his father and then unwillingly causing the death of the rest of his family, is absolutely absurd.

"but he said he knew what he was doing!" you say.

now we're really getting into the meat of this, let's talk about a couple reasons as to why shigaraki tomura is an unreliable narrator.

tomura - not tenko, because it's important to remember this is shigaraki that is recounting these events to us - does say that he believes that in some way he did this on purpose.

however, I am once again going to bring our friend context back into the equation.

shigaraki tomura has undergone serious indoctrination by all for one for the majority of his life, the majority of which being in his formative years, and especially regarding this particular event. the entirety of afo's introduction in regards to tomura's origin story literally revolves around the death of his family and his "itch to kill," so let's talk about some ways in which afo might have affected tomura's perception of that day:

1. forgotten memories

this is the most out there, and the most tinhat-ty of the theories, so I'm getting it out of the way first. I think it's worth it to put in here anyway, because it does still touch on afo's overwhelming influence, but this is pretty much all speculation.

in 237, tomura mentions the memories of "that day" being repressed up until his fight with re destro when they come back to him. the theory is that these memories - and by proxy, the feelings that came with them - were placed into his head by afo as a child, and are not reflective of his actual actions/feelings.

like I said, I think this is the weakest argument in this particular context, but it would explain some of the convenient events (i.e. the grandson of shimura nana, the one person afo wants on his side, just so happening to kill his family) that lead to tenko meeting afo. it's an interesting idea, and one I like, but it's not the one we're gonna focus on for this argument.

2. a helping hand

sit back and watch me girlboss and gatekeep this shit, cause this is where we really start to talk about gaslighting.

Gaslighting is a form of psychological abuse where a person or group makes someone question their sanity, perception of reality, or memories. [x]

regardless of whether afo orchestrated the death of tenko's family as posed in the above theory or not, it's irrefutable that he is the first and only person to to offer tenko support following the incident. this puts afo in a position of power and worship over tenko, which is the perfect breeding ground for this type of psychological abuse.

afo praises tenko, tells him he's powerful, and that he's proud of him, gives him his name, and assures him that it's okay to want to hurt the people who have hurt him, and not only that, but that they deserve it when he does.

afo creates an environment where tenko/tomura worships the ground he walks on, then builds the narrative that the ones who hurt us deserve to be punished. so why would tomura, who blatantly in the text says he felt immense guilt for killing his family, not try to lessen that guilt by saying they deserved it?

3. scratching the itch

"but what about the itchiness? he said it went away when he killed his father, it's obviously tied to his need to decay, he can't be saved if his instinct is to destroy!"

I'm going to pose a little theory here: tomura's itchiness is not a symptom of his quirk. it's a psychosomatic disorder caused by the abuse from his father, and then later heightened by the abuse he received at the hands of afo.

Psychosomatic disorder [is a] condition in which psychological stresses adversely affect physiological (somatic) functioning to the point of distress. [x]

tenko's itching starts near enough to the development of his quirk that it's pretty easy to see why the two might be related, it's also shown to be in DIRECT correlation with any time his father verbally or physically abuses him. the first time we see him itching, it's after his father drags him across the house. he also says in the text that it (his face) "gets itchy when I'm at home," meaning it mainly manifests in environments his father is in.

afo abuses this knowledge, and turns it into a weapon used to create the "symbol of fear" he's always wanted - he tells tomura that holding back will only intensify the itch; he has to let go if he wants it to ever truly go away. the itching stopped when he killed his father (because finally, his abuser - the stressor for this reaction - was gone), so it must be natural! it must be natural for him to want to destroy, so he should follow his heart, and that will make afo proud.

and the only thing tomura has ever wanted to do was make afo proud.

let it be known, I'm not arguing any of this to take away tomura's agency or absolve him of his crimes - he absolutely has killed people knowingly, and with full consciousness. but the idea that tomura - or any child - was "born evil" or can never be saved because of actions done under extreme stress, and tainted by further psychological abuse, is fucked up, and it just straight up is not backed up by the text.

tomura's whole character is based on the fact that if someone had been there to save him, he would not have grown up to be the way he is today. to put the blame of his character on his quirk, or his personality, or just the fact he was born fucked up shows a blatant disregard for the themes of his character, and the themes of bnha as a whole.

no one is too far gone that they can't be saved. especially not a scared little kid looking for comfort when they never had any.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

A Heartbeat Away | Damian Wayne

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x gender neutral!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 2.7k

✦ based off the song I Should’ve Kissed You by One Direction

✦ summary — Damian is haunted by the fact that he only said good night when he should have kissed you.

✦ warnings — light angst, mentions of pregnancy (a minor character is pregnant), mentions of food and beverages, fluff.

✦ author's note i — randomly remembered my obsession with this song and couldn’t get it out of my head.

✦ author's note ii — the parts in italics are flashbacks.

════════════════════════

Ever since he started living with Jason, Damian found himself straying away from the things that held him back.

His life would never be normal, but in hindsight, he could admit things weren’t as bad.

The fallout with his father came crashing down in the worst moment possible — Dick was dead and his relationship with Tim wasn’t the best.

As little as he knew Jason, he was sure he could trust him so he asked for his help instead of somebody else’s.

And Jason didn’t say no. Whether he had the heart to do it or not was irrelevant because he still took Damian in and helped him find a job.

He hated said job.

‘It’s a job,’ you had told him, ‘you’re not supposed to like it.’

You.

Damian rarely stopped thinking about you. Calling it infatuation felt like an understatement, and yet he couldn’t find a better word to describe the whirlwind of emotions you gave him.

He still remembered the day he met you for the first time.

Jason paced in the living room, perking up every time he heard a noise outside the apartment.

You’re driving me insane,” Damian said from the small dining table.

”Roy’s late.”

”Why are you surprised?”

Jason glared at him.

Both of them heard somebody stand on the other side of the door. Their steps didn’t sound like Roy’s.

Pulling the door open, Jason was ready to snap at whoever had knocked.

“You ordered something and gave my apartment number instead of yours. Again.”

Damian didn’t recognize the voice so he slanted his body to the side to see who it was. He couldn’t stop staring.

”I’ll make it up to you.”

”Jay,” you sighed. “I’ve told you before, you just need to tell me beforehand if you don’t want things to arrive to your apartment. My roommate could have opened it.”

Damian chuckled, a single elbow resting on the table.

Jason craned his neck. “You think this is funny?”

”I think you’re a moron.”

”Shut up and come meet our neighbor.”

Damian didn’t have to be told twice. He stood up with an eagerness he hadn’t felt since Jason texted him to let him know he had found the materials so he could build a suit and go back to patrol.

”This is my brother Damian.” Jason turned around to place the package under the table next to the door.

He knew you’d either seen him before or heard about him the moment his eyes landed on you. People always had a visceral reaction when they met him, some found him attractive, others attempted to ask for favors, and some recoiled in fear.

But you didn’t. You held his gaze and stood in the same spot you had been since you knocked on the door.

And whether it had been in a newspaper or a gossip forum, he was glad you knew something about him. There was something about the way you stared at him that screamed for him to trust you. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

“Nice to meet you,” you politely said, smiling at him.

Stunned by the fact that you hadn’t mocked him, and now assuming it wasn’t wishful thinking after all, he tilted his head. Most people did mock now that he wasn’t under his father’s wing.

Still, he said, “Likewise.”

Your smile became warmer. “I live three doors down the hallway in case you need anything.”

He felt a pang in his chest at the gesture. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Weird sensations in his chest were normal when he was around you. Befriending you was easier than he’d ever admit and talking to you became the highlight of his day.

The pangs in his chest turned into a fluttering sensation in a heartbeat. You’d make him feel breathless when you did the smallest things — when you smiled at him, when you complained about other neighbors with him, when you asked about his day.

He felt special. For once in his life for being the closest he had ever been to resemble a normal person.

And he also remembered, quite painfully, that night he let you walk away without mustering the courage to tell you —or show you— the way you made him feel.

The deserted hallway was yet another proof of how easy it was to lose track of time around you.

Damian hadn’t expected to get back home past midnight or to skip patrol, but 1:00 AM turned into 2:00 and he couldn’t part from you no matter how many times he tried to remind himself to do it.

He hadn’t even expected to enjoy the state fair as an adult, yet he couldn’t remember a time he had more fun than that evening.

You gazed up at him, waiting for him to either do or say something. Anything other than stare at you in the middle of the hallway.

You had already thanked him for making you company, there was no way you’d say anything. And he froze.

“Good night,” he sputtered.

Your brow twitched. “Night.”

He watched you unlock your door and get inside your apartment with a heavy heart.

You moved out a couple months ago and he hadn’t seen you since then. The texts the two of you exchanged were sporadic and they bordered in formal.

He should have kissed you, he was aware of that. And to make matters worse, Jason chewed him out when he found out.

He still looked for you every morning he left the apartment as though you’d remember you had forgotten something. That you had forgotten him.

Jon said it was for the best, that somebody as sweet as you didn’t deserve to carry with his baggage.

Damian knew his best friend to be right, but how could he let go of you that easily when you made him see he was more than his mistakes and regrets?

He didn’t need anybody to carry him, he could drag himself anywhere if needed.

He simply hated the hole in the pit of his stomach every time he entertained the possibility of having to see you one day with somebody else because he wasn’t brave enough to say what he needed to let out.

The idea of being out of time was killing him slowly, so naturally, he’d sought a quick death.

════════════════════════

You gasped upon opening the door. You weren’t expecting anybody to be outside — much less Damian Wayne.

“Oh!”

“Hi,” he softly greeted.

You blinked rapidly. “Did you need anything?”

“I wanted to... Are you on your way out?”

“I’m just dropping this off for my mom.” You momentarily lifted the bags you were carrying in one hand. “She lives nearby.”

He spared a look to the reusable bags in your grasp. “Is she sick?”

“Pregnant,” you explained, playing with your keys. “It’s high risk due to her age so we take as much care of her as we can.”

Damian walked backward, allowing you to come out of the apartment and lock the door.

As you pushed the door to make sure it was locked, he asked, “Would you care for some company?”

Turning around, you gave him a small smile. “That would be lovely.”

He reached over. “Let me help.”

“They’re not heavy.”

“I insist.”

”Okay.” You handed him the bags and took the initiative to lead the way.

He reached your side immediately.

Not knowing what else to do, aware you’d let something slip if you didn’t find something, you made small talk. “How’s Jason?”

“As annoying as always.”

You still remembered when he meant those words, when he complained about Jason and how often they butted heads. His tone was different now, lighter, almost playful.

“Good to know some things never change.”

You walked the streets with an ease you hadn’t been able to in years. Growing up in that neighborhood meant which streets to avoid, and sadly, most of them were unsafe.

There were many things you could have asked or said, perhaps apologize for being cold while texting.

You were in your right to be cold and you could have just not answered, but you wanted to keep contact even though you were hurt.

Damian was great company. It was a shame you misread the entire situation and couldn’t go back to chat with him like before.

It took you a few attempts to get them to talk comfortably, but once he was able to, he didn’t look back. He even gossiped with you.

Stopping in front of the house, you looked around to make sure your mom had the windows open. Once sure, you walked up the front steps.

You withdrew a single key from your back pocket and extended your other hand so Damian would give you the bags.

The floors were recently mopped which meant your aunt had visited that day.

“It’s me,” you yelled so your mom wouldn’t get up. It was her time to be watching TV in the living room.

Carrying the bags towards the kitchen, you caught the jingle from a commercial.

You filled a glass with water and added a couple of ice cubes.

Your mom was comfortably sat on a recliner, feet up and remote control on her thigh. “Hurry back before it gets dark.”

“Don’t worry, a friend of mine walked me here.” You handed her the glass. “Do you need anything else?”

She ignored your question as she took the glass. “Who is it?”

“You don’t know him.”

“Him?” She lifted an eyebrow.

You hadn’t mentioned a guy to her in almost two years now, her surprise was understandable. “Not now.”

“Oh, so it is like that?”

Maybe it was and maybe that was the issue. She wouldn’t blame you if she knew him like you did, if she heard him laugh or saw him change his demeanor to accommodate to somebody else’s sensibilities.

You didn’t think you’d witness anything remotely close to that when you met him for the first time, but you learned really quickly that Damian was full of surprises.

“I’ll call in the morning in case you need something. I’m working ’til 3:00 PM tomorrow.”

“It’s okay.” She took a sip of water. “Did you bring anything sweet?”

“Homemade muffins and a few chocolate bars. Do you want one now?”

She shook her head. “I’ll wait after dinner.”

You kissed her cheek. “Call me, please.”

“Go, go.” She ushered you to go with a gesture of her hand. “Don’t make your friend wait.”

It was your time to ignore her comment.

Damian was sat on the front steps when you came out, looking up at the darkening sky.

“Is everything alright?” you asked in a whisper as to not scare him.

“No.” He shook his head and stood up. “I mean, yes. How’s your mother?”

“She’s good. Having fun watching reality TV.”

Damian squinted. “Is reality TV really that entertaining?”

“It’s mindless stuff, but it’s fun sometimes. You get to judge other people’s lives without feeling remorse because it’s most likely fake.”

The walk back was way shorter and you didn’t want to part. It was time to swallow your pride and your feelings for him.

He didn’t part ways with you at the building entrance. He walked beside you until you reached the elevator — Damian extended his arm to keep the doors open and allowed you to get in first. He followed suit.

You turned the lights on with Damian on your tail. He did wait for you to invite him in, but you were sure both of you knew there was no way you wouldn’t.

“I made muffins. Do you want one?”

Damian nodded.

You guided him to the dining table where a trippy vase in pastel colors rested with flowers.

He looked around the apartment as he walked towards the table. As he sat down, he fixed his eyes on the vase.

“Green or black?”

“Mmh?”

“Your tea.”

You could swear you saw him smile to himself.

“Black.” He placed his cellphone on the table. “You still have that thing,” he said, referring to the trippy vase.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He huffed a laugh. “Jason said it was ugly.”

“Jason doesn’t have the best taste in the world,” you lightheartedly retorted.

The vase was precious to you, a gift from Damian who spooked you in the middle of a rainy night and made you knock your favorite vase.

You set a plate in front of him and placed the muffin there. “Your tea’s almost ready.”

“No roommate this time?”

“Nope. I miss Lou, but I don’t miss having a roommate that much.”

“I thought the move was temporary just so you could be close to your mother...”

“It is, but there’s still a long way to go. The baby should be here next month and she’ll need help around the house.” You disappeared for a moment as you looked for a mug.

Having found one, you dropped the teabag and poured the boiling water in.

“Sugar.” You put the sugar bowl down just in front of the mug. Feeling his eyes on the side of your face, you gazed at him. “It’s brown, don’t worry.”

He relaxed and uncovered the sugar bowl. “Is the father of your mother’s child around?”

“Yeah.” You sat down on the chair closest to his. “She remarried last year and her husband tries to help, but you know, work gets in the way.”

“Tell me if I can help with anything.”

“Don’t worry, you have enough things to juggle with already.”

“What’s one more? At least let me make you company or walk you home. These streets are dangerous.”

You softly nodded. From the day you met him you knew you would never be able to tell him no — and having his company after a long day sounded nice.

“So...”

“So,” you encouraged him to go on.

“Are you seeing anybody?”

“No. I thought I was a little while ago, but...” You hoped he’d understand what you were getting at. “I guess something got lost in translation.”

“Did it? Or was he too much of a coward to show the way he felt?”

“Don’t.” You hated hearing him talk like that about himself.

“You don’t know how much I regret not kissing you that night. I—“ He sighed, twisting his mouth as he frowned. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“At least now I know you did think about doing it.”

“I did. Many times throughout the night.” He turned to the side to fully look at you. “I wanted to find the perfect moment and became overwhelmed. Sounds like a bad excuse, but I swear it’s the truth.”

“I believe you.”

Damian scooted closer and reached over to place his hand on your face. Softly, he caressed your cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

You leaned onto his touch, tilting your head. “Me too. Sorry for being such an ass.”

“It’s fine. I would have reacted similarly.”

“Similarly or worse?”

“Worse.”

You laughed, making him smile.

“May I?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Damian leaned in, placing his free hand on the back of your chair as his nose brushed yours.

His lips softly connected with yours, but the slow pace didn’t last. The two of you had wasted too much time, thrown away too many opportunities to be this close —or closer— and patience wasn’t a virtue Damian possessed.

The chair was now balancing itself in two legs, making you interrupt the kiss with a squeal.

Damian then made you stand up and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips were immediately back on yours.

Your hands went up to rest on his biceps as he kissed you again. His arms tightened around you as he deepened the kiss and you melted.

You melted into the kiss, onto his warmth, due to the fact that he wanted this as much as you did.

Kissing him had become a mere fantasy for you, and there he was, not only making it a reality but exceeding your expectations.

Grabbing him by the neck, you broke the kiss in search of air. His breath was barely ragged and you remembered he told you he could hold it in for a long time.

You needed him to teach you just to be able to kiss him for longer.

“That was nice,” you said, still breathless.

“Yeah, really nice. We should do it more often.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m telling you I want you to be mine.”

All in or nothing, of course. Jason had warned you that Damian didn’t take things lightly.

But you were okay with that.

[catzula]

tell me where you are, honey

So, I should tell you that that this is not my fiction, its heavily based on real life. If you want to check it out, the mentioned band is a Turkish band called 'Duman'.

Genre and warnings: hey guys? This is pure angst. Just angst. Heavy heavy angst. First of all, major character death (not Suna), tw: mentions of suicide, tw: mentions of death, tw: mentions of depression and anxiety, mentions of alcohol, if there's anything else please tell me!

Suna closes his eyes as he sings the words, trying to forget the uneasy feeling stirring in his chest. 

He feels the sweat drip from the sides of his face, making him glisten under the blueish lights of the bar. 

A chilly wind makes his overheated body shiver. Your face comes before his eyes, and Suna can't help the bitter smile finding its way on his lips. He stopped taking song requests a long time ago, so instead, he leans to the mic and asks how's the night going with a broken but charming smile that makes the crowd excited.

It has been a while. Suna shouldn't feel a lump in his throat, a stinging in his eyes. But he does. He can't help it when a fan calls out to him, asking for the song. 

Reminding the rest of his fans of the song, they start chanting the name of it like it's a prayer, holding a rhythm and hoping for him to sing it.

The song he hasn't sang in a long, long time.

The choking feeling is instant, the heaviness pressuring his chest, making it impossible for him to breathe in the foggy room. Atsumu interjects, telling the fans to cut it out, that they are well aware Suna won't, can't sing it.

Osamu sends a glimpse at the lead singer's direction, not surprised to see his fox-like, almost lifeless-looking eyes already damp. Suna runs a hand through his hair frustratedly, Osamu can't tell what he's thinking, but it appears hard on him. 

Atsumu cocks his head when Suna backs away from the mic. "It's okay," he grits his teeth, he looks like he's in pain. "I think- I think I can sing it this once."

The truth is, Suna missed you this song. Suna missed the song he knew that you loved so much. So he sends a smile to the crowd, picking the mic and biting his lip. It was a song he promised he would never sing again, never again after that last time.

But here he is, hoping you could hear it.

"Darling, you are my honey," Suna sings, and it comes out as choked and strained, but the fans are just surprised he actually did sing it.

It's the first familiar chords that cause him to choke on his breath. Suna's already crying, and if the fans looked closely, they could see the others are, too.

Suna's mind wanders off to the last time he sang the song, the last time he spoke those words. 

It's the first big concert his band was going to do. Suna had been trying to make it happen for months now, and if it went well, it would be a big turn point in their careers. 

"Can't you- can't you come a little earlier today?"

"Rin, where are you?" He heard you say from the other side of the line, making him sigh in annoyance. "I've been texting you all day!" Suna pinched the bridge of his nose. He was already aware you were texting him every five fucking minutes, and that was the very reason he hadn't opened one of them. "I'll be home in a few hours." He grumbled, almost inaudible, but you managed to hear him.

He didn't think much about the few seconds of silence that followed his answer.

Your voice was a mere whisper, and you sounded so sad, almost desperate, and Suna closed his eyes. "We have a fucking concert today. We're doing the last cheks." He sighed when you stay silent. "I'll try to come a little earlier."

"Okay, I love you, Rin." He heard you smile, and it made the weight on his chest feel a little lighter. "Love ya too, honey."

Honey. 

It wasn't a word anyone would expect Suna to speak, but it was what he always called you. He always said it with so much emotion, so much thought and love, and it never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

"You taste like honey." He once told you when you asked him, leaning in with a smile and stealing a kiss.

It was your favorite song.

"My soul is already addicted to your taste," Suna sighs the words. The fans are surprisingly silent, watching their favorite singer shake with wtiholded sobs at the lyrics and the love he lost. It's obvious he's out of it, lost in the memories, holding the mic so tight that his knuckles turn white. 

Your love story was one of the most famous ones at the time, more than Suna himself, and was known by almost everyone.

But lately, you had started to feel like it was dying. 

It wasn't, of course. Suna loved you more than he did anything else, and you loved him more than life itself. It wasn't anything in particular that made you feel that way, too. Many little things combined, the depression you were falling into, the stress he was under, the more than often fights happening lately.

Your relationship wasn't the best lately, that, you admitted. Suna was rarely at home. You only saw him a few minutes each day, and that if you were lucky. Even when he was at home, all you ever did was to fight. Not even about anything worth fighting, but they always caused broken hearts on both sides. 

Despite all the stress building over him, Suna was trying to make it better, too. Making compromises of himself, agreeing with you in fights despite your nonsense arguments, not saying anything about you blowing up on the smallest things. 

"Where are you...love..." He cries. He should've thought more, cared more. Suna was guilty of not thinking why you were acting like this instead of how to stop it. He was busy with the upcoming concerts, their band was about to turn the corner, but that couldn't be an excuse.

Suna had gone home after his band practice that day. The apartment was dark, so silent, it scared him until he opened the lights and found you lying on the couch. 

You weren't sleeping, he thought it was because you wanted to see him, but it was because of the anxious thoughts roaming in your mind. Suna should've seen the trembling of your hands, how cold you felt, how limp and numb you seemed. 

"You stink." Those were the first words you told him, your face souring when you took note of the alcohol and cigarettes clinging on him like a second skin. "Did you drink?" You sounded suspicious.

"No, I already told you we were practicing."

"Then why do you smell like this?" Suna gritted his teeth when yiur voice raised, resembling a shout.

"Because we work at a fucking bar? You know all this, why the fuck are you acting like this?" Suna sneered, it was only for a second he had lost control, but it was enough for your face to contort with hurt. 

You felt guilty when he sighed, seemingly admitting defeat. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? But I'm already stressed enough for the concert, and I can't deal with this shit right now." You watched your boyfriend run his fingers through his hair, his words hurting you more than they should. You were acting nonsensible, you knew, but you couldn't stop.

"This shit? You mean me?" Your voice was now a little higher, making him flinch. "Y/N, for fucks sake! You know I didn't mean that!"

"Tell me where are you, honey,"  There were things you were dealing with, shit he didn't know, you hadn't told. He couldn't have known, he couldn't have known, but he should've. If he had, Suna would never have told you all those that day. He wouldn't have made you cry, sob in the room, dark and by yourself. 

He would've stayed with you, told you he was there, that he loved you, everything would be fine. Honey, he would call you. But he hadn't. Instead, he chose to act selfishly.

"Stop being so fucking pushy." He had told you when you asked where they practiced, who else was there but the Miya's, who was that girl you saw in a picture with him, which was taken months ago, why were they standing so close? It was an argument you had gone over five times already, he had told you it was Atsumu's friend and nothing else, but you kept bringing it up.

"Just give me some space, goddammit! You're suffocating me!" Suna shouted. It was rare to see Suna raise his voice, and it made you freeze in your place. You looked in his slitted eyes, only seeing hate, disgust swimming in those greens. 

You didn't say it, but Suna noticed something was wrong, and you were crying too hard, so hard he feared you were going to pass out. "Hey, hey- I'm sorry." He muttered, acting quickly to wrap his arms around your shaking body like he was the only thing holding you together.

You were wrong, and all Suna was feeling was distress, and he could never look at you with anything but love, but your anxiety told you otherwise.

Do you hate me? The question is on the tip of your tongue. It feels like everyone, everything hates you lately, hell, you yourself do, too. You only need an answer, yes or no, since you can't tell by the foggy depression blurring your thoughts.

Do you? Do you hate me? Please don't hate me, I'm sorry, please don't look at me like that.

(he was)

It felt like hours as you cried between his arms, and Suna pressed an occasional kiss to your hair. Neither of you talked, the heaviness of the fight still lingering in the air, and Suna decided to talk about it after the concert. So you just stood there between each other's arms. Maybe you would've told him you felt broken, and you couldn't take it anymore, you didn't-

It was on the tip of your tongue as he pulled back from you, pressing one last kiss on your hair. "I have to go, honey." He told you, checking the time on his phone. "I'm going to be late for the concert."

Suna didn't notice how you flinched when he pulled back, how tears gathered in your eyes, how you couldn't look him in the eyes. "Okay." He heard you whisper. Watching you smile at him, he smiled back when you leaned in to press a kiss on his lips. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pressed your body closer to him, surprising and making him chuckle. It was a kiss that screamed goodbye, but he was too nervous to notice. 

"A good luck kiss, I presume?" He laughed when you pulled back. "I'll see you there, yeah? Let's talk about this after."

"You are with me from now on, honey," Suna should've noticed your lack of response. If he had, maybe he wouldn't be sobbing on the stage now. He feels Atsumu pat his back, Suna's holding on his mic like it's the one thing holding him alive, sobs breaking his words, making him shake.

His fans watch him as he wipes the tears off his face with the back of his hand, the rings adorning his fingers sparkling under the dim light. 

"Tell me where you are, honey,

All the members are crying, not just him. They all loved you, and you were a part of their lives, such a lively, kind person. At the very least, you had managed to tie Suna down.

Its impossible not to cry as people who had heard his cries echoing out of your apartment that night.

You are with me from now on, honey," 

Something was different with Suna's performance that day, and all the others had noticed it. The tired-looking and feeling boy was pumped up that day. He sounded energetic, and Suna gave the best performance he ever had before.

It was all for you, Suna thought. He was singing just for you that day, something he hadn't done in a while. Picking all the songs he ever wrote for you, the ones you liked, just for you, hoping you would feel a little less angry when the concert ended. 

He was smiling the whole time he was singing, but his smile was dropping each time he gazed at the crowd and couldn't find your face, smiling back at him. Were you sitting in the back? Were you that angry with him?

The night proceeded, and the whole band knew it was a success. 

A few songs time left, Suna was frowning since he still couldn't have spotted you. There was no way you hadn't come, but you might have been hiding still. 

Deciding to pull out the big guns, Suna gave the sign to Osamu. They could tell what he had in mind, and Suna smiled with the first hearing of chords. He sang it, sang with a bitter smile, looking at the crowd to finally spot you. 

"You are my soul from now on,

You are my only part that remains alive," 

The concert came to a halt. You weren't in the crowd, and Suna was already in the middle of the song. "Suna- Suna, stop!" Osamu and Atsumu stopped playing, Suna sang the last word alone.

"What the-" He was about to shout at them for making him stop so abruptly, but the terrified look on Osamu's face made him stop. All the blood had left both their faces, and both the twins were shaking, but why were they crying?

It was hard to tell him what happened, and it might've been a mistake, too. 

Wrong time. 

You can't tell a man the love of his life died, she took her own life, right in the middle of the song dedicated just to her.  

What happened after that was a blur. 

Atsumu and Osamu tried to stop Suna from rushing back to the apartment, but he was quick. Suna had no idea how he drove back home, but he was standing in front of the door of your apartment, knocking on the door like a madman, praying you would open it for him. he would see your smiling face, greeting him, or maybe angry with him, crying, screaming- whatever. All he wanted to do was to- to-

He was punching, kicking the door, shouting and crying, crying and crying, and as more seconds that pass, Suna thought he could go crazy. 

It's a miracle when the door opened, and for a split second, Suna thought it was a lie, a cruel joke, a misunderstanding. You were here, you opened the door for him-

It wasn't you. 

You weren't the one who opened the door, but your sister. Her face was damp with tears, and Suna's eyes locked on the figure that stood behind her. 

It was the hardest thing to try and make Suna let go of you, try and calm him, stop him from pulling you back to between his arms, and never let go. 

Osamu arrived right after him. 

He arrived at a scene he would never be able to forget.

His best friend was on the floor, your body limp between his arms. Osamu couldn't hold back his cries when he heard Suna's loud cries, begging and begging for you to wake up, holding your hand, trying to warm you, he was shouting, the pain so raw in his voice, people around him feel tears pricking in their eyes.

"Please, honey, please-" He sobbed brokenly, his body was shaking like a leaf.

He sat there, sobbing in his hands, his agonizing screams audible even from the outside, sending chills down everyone nearby. They think they never in their lives heard pure pain like this in someone's voice.

Osamu and Atsumu were crying with Suna as he finally let you go. He couldn't watch as they took you away, out of the room. 

But they don't hear him crying out your name, instead, it's a sweet pet name they hear. It makes the twins shake with more cries.

honey honey honey

He figured too late, how you were battling with severe depression, how your personal life was a mess, how you needed him to be there for you. He was too late. 

Suna hadn't left the apartment for 15 days straight after that day. He didn't want to speak or see anyone, barely ate and drank. 

He refused to see his family, the twins visiting him.

No one knew what happened in those 15 days, but when he came back out, they could tell by a look he had changed. Not only physically (even though he looked like he was starving and sick), but also mentally.

It was his fault. If he had been more attentive, more at home to see you, ask you if anything was wrong, "honey, are you okay?" maybe it would've been fine. It was his fault.

Even after he left the apartment, even after he started smiling, it was evident Suna was never the same. How could he be? He had lost a part of him, no, he had lost all of him. And all that left was the shell that merely resembled him. 

Suna had tried to sing it more than he could count, but the moment he heard the first chord, he broke down crying. This was the one day he succeeded, and even though it was barely audible, it sounded like agonizing cries instead, he was singing it. 

For you. 

Can you hear me, honey?

honey, honey, honey.

[nealcassatiel]

The Supernatural Finale’s Nullification of the Symbolism of the Road: Dean Winchester lived as a progressive hero and dies as a static shadow

During the emotional height of its grand finale, Supernatural’s Dean Winchester ensconces the show’s earlier themes as a road narrative by showing an elongated montage of him driving his classic car along an endless, American road. By returning to the original mythic and intertextual narratives from which Supernatural was born, the finale entrenched within its themes the grand myth of the freedom of the American road. However, this grand myth and symbol, representing the traveller’s metaphorical journey towards inner freedom and self-discovery whilst exulting their newly found connection to the beatific landscape on Earth, placed within the context of heaven - is rendered redundant.

Without canonical material to provide a true world-building of this new heaven, we must rely on the idea of heaven from previous seasons, as well as extratextual narratives of heavenly realms. The audience is told that in this new heaven, souls have freedom and new memories may be created. The vision we see of the finale’s heaven is glowing, sanitised, and idyllic. Coupled with the general Western audience’s presupposition that heavenly realms within texts will be devoid of true horror or suffering, we are to assume these new memories and freedoms will also be heavenly and devoid of suffering. This assumption is bolstered by the appearance of The Roadhouse, Bobby Singer, and Baby, all representative of ‘good times’ and shot with soft lighting (peaceful), then juxtaposed against Dean’s dark, gritty, violent, and horror-filed final moments on Earth. This entrenches the message that Supernatural is sending: Dean is at peace and saved from his suffering.

This disallowance of suffering in Dean’s heaven is antithetical to the myth of the road: the metaphorical journey towards inner-freedom, ‘self-display, and self-discovery’[1]. Conflict, suffering, and trials are essential towards self-discovery and character development, and this is truer for the ‘hero’ protagonist than others. Dean, our hero, in his sanitized heaven is now in stasis. His external goal of defeating god is destroyed, and his internal journey (created by reacting and responding to the trials and tribulations of a varied life) is curtailed. His symbolic drive through Americana heaven has been stripped of its meaning. Our hero is no longer a hero of the road and his journey of self-discovery is terminated.  Kris Lackey in RoadFrames: The Amerian Highway Narrative, writes that ‘Car voyaging remains a symbolic gesture, describing in spatial terms a character’s education in or flight from domesticity’[2]. Whilst Dean is spatially driving away from home/Earth, his character is deprived of the ability to progress or to be educated by his surroundings, and therefore Dean’s drive through this physical space has been stripped of its metaphorical meaning. The physical road of heaven is illusory: it’s symbolism only taking on meaning and worth when the traveller changes in tandem with the view from the car window. The view from ‘Baby’ may change, but Dean cannot.

American road narratives have long set themselves against the urban. Following in the footsteps of Transcendentalism, in particular Thoreau’s Walden, the road symbolises a rejection of materialistic and capitalist society and a return to the land. The urban and the road are set in comparison: the urban taking on meaning as a place where one lives as a shadow and lives a half-life in a modern hell, stripped of connection to the Self and to others. The road thus takes on the meaning of a place where one can live fully, where, as Thoreau writes, one can ‘live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.’ [3] The road is thus an allegory for living with heightened experiences, living life fully, and rediscovering a more meaningful human experience through a greater connection to the land. Dean’s heaven road is not in opposition to the urban. Heaven is not a place where one can live deliberately and learn from the joys and pains of human life. The land, a peculiarly Earthly notion, can only ever be absent in Heaven. The essential nature of Heaven and Earth is that they are wholly separate. Each of their meanings is derived from the fact that they are not the other. The myth of the road is so inherently connected to the land on Earth, that transmogrifying it into a realm which has always defined itself as ‘not of Earth’ yet again nullifies any symbolic meaning attributed to ‘the road’.

This inability for character development, an inability to learn from the land, and an inability to learn from the suffering of an Earthly road renders our hero stuck, with his life suspended. In On the Road, ‘Kerouac’s Sal Paradise and Dean Moriarty… exemplify the surviving type - outsiders whose hardscrabble road-lives fit them for roles as satirists and enemies of settled bourgeois life.’[4] Dean, whose character is based on Dean Moriarty, whilst visually drives a car in heaven and is seen as always moving forwards, Dean himself is completely settled in his current reality – unable to move forward in any way other than physically. Whilst Sam and the people left behind on Earth are able to move on, Dean, as he ironically speeds through heaven’s roads is now stuck in the same place forever.

On the Road’s message is one of a rejection of a settled, domestic, and stultifying bourgeoisie life. The semi-autobiographical nature of the work allows us to interpret the text in connection to Kerouac and Cassady’s real life. Whilst this anti-domestic theme is ingrained in Kerouac’s text, Kerouac himself ended his years living with his mother, having stopped travelling. When comparing Kerouac’s later life with his protagonist’s youthful life in On the Road, we can make a case that youth is inherent to contextualising the book’s central themes, most importantly: the theme of freedom. With the characters and writer in their 20s, this novel resonates with the youth. Their youth calls for a rejection of the domestic and of the settled. Likewise, Sam and Dean’s earlier years before they move into the bunker are, and should be, seen as a rejection of the domestic and settled. Thoreau’s Walden, Krakauer’s Into The Wild, Ruess’ A Vagabond for Beauty, Kerouac’s On the Road, Cheryl Strayed’s Wild, Ben Reitman’s Sister of the Road – these, along with the majority of road narratives (both literary and on-screen) are populated with protagonists in their 20s. Had these seminal road narratives had protagonists in their 40s, as Dean Winchester is in the finale, the message of a life on the road would be incalculably altered. Whilst the youthful Sal and Dean in On the Road choose to reject a settled life for a vagabond’s, the middle-aged Dean Winchester is forced from a settled life in the bunker (a home that he cherishes) into a vagabond’s life on the road. He is thrown into a road narrative which brings joy to younger protagonists as it did for him in his 20s, however since the age of 34 (roughly) when him and Sam find the bunker, he as a character no longer sought out this life of the road. Their father’s (John Winchester’s) nomadic life which moved him from one dark and dingy motel room to the next was portrayed as somewhat sad, a sacrifice, and a life he was forced into once his domestic life literally went up in flames. John Winchester’s nomadic life started when he was 29 years old and has never been representative of the careless freedom of the road. Like John, symbolising Dean as being back on the road is somewhat sad and reads as a form of hollow nostalgia for the freedom of youth. Dean’s drive on heaven’s road and its rejection of the domestic no longer reads as youthfully liberating and bold, but tragic that he is forced from his age-appropriate domestic home into an unsettled life that he wilfully moved on from in season 8. As viewers, we must ask ourselves if it is still freedom if one is forced to be free? Whilst I could delve into the writings of Isiah Berlin or Rousseau’s writings on the ‘social contract’, Supernatural in many ways answers this question itself. In the fight against an interventionist god, our characters (self-named as ‘Team Free Will 2.0’), believe that one’s ability to choose their path in life is the ultimate freedom. If god had forced their freedom, they would not consider that as true freedom. Therefore, the symbolism of the writers forcing Dean from the domestic and back onto the freedom of the road cannot be read as true freedom. He had no choice.

Supernatural’s finale aimed at recapturing the tone and themes of its pilot episode, and consistently mirrored shots, costume, locations, dialogue, and themes of the pilot. It used visual signifiers to play into the show’s earlier mythology. However, the unintended consequence of this visual and narrative symbolism forced the character of Dean into trying to recapture his youth. Dean had moved on from the open road since the pilot, however the resounding mythic image during Dean’s final screen-time is him on the road. In the end, ‘Carry On’ unintentionally satirises its own mythology. It is less like On the Road, and more like Easy Rider. David Laderman writes of Easy Rider, ‘At a certain point down the road, the road movie’s glorified mobility seems to yield a disillusioned attitude in the protagonists, who have been unable to truly escape, and who have internalized the pressures of conformist society.’[5] Easy Rider’s protagonists, maddened by consistently defining themselves by the road realise that the search for such a freedom from a violent and conservative nation is futile. The hippie dream, in the context of the Martin Luther King assassination as well as the other assassinations and the war in Vietnam, was dead by 1969. After the traumas faced on the road, the protagonists are confronted with the knowledge that ‘the initial promise and thrill of mobility gradually turns sour.’[6]So too is Dean now unable to escape his previous life on the road and his new life on heaven’s road.

As a character who canonically repressed emotions and played into hyper-masculine traits at the expense of the catharsis of emotional vulnerability, like Easy Rider’s protagonists, Dean never escaped his internalised ‘pressures of conformist society’ before his death. With no trauma or challenges to confront on heaven’s road, Dean can never go on the internal journey to free himself from his repression. Heaven’s road will never help him free his Self. On the Road’s protagonist, Dean Moriarty is based on Neal Cassady who was a bisexual man and his relationship with poet Allen Ginsberg was written about within Ginsberg’s work. Dean Winchester was also based on Neal Cassady, giving some credence to viewers of Supernatural who have long read Dean through a queer theory lens, and presented him as bisexual. Through this bisexual reading, Dean’s inability to find true freedom on heaven’s road becomes allegorical to his inability to free himself from his repressed sexual desires. Like On the Road’s omission of Dean’s bisexuality, Supernatural can be read as doing the same. Increasingly, freedom is stripped from the symbol of heaven’s road. Both Neal Cassady and Dean Winchester die at the same age of 41.

Road movies and their mythology combine both conservative and progressive ideologies, and many try to walk this line without politicization. The myth of the road can be read as inherently conservative and patriotic as it plays into the American ideology of frontierism and individualism. Yet the mythology of freedom from the suburban/urban and the incorporation of road narratives into progressive counterculture (such as the Beats and the Hippies) makes the genre appear liberating. By setting itself in juxtaposition against capitalist and urban life, road narratives appeal to the progressive, and many of the genre’s protagonists are indeed progressive.

As outlined earlier, Dean’s return to the road does not feel freeing or liberating. His journey on the road does not include a Merry Prankster-esque or Easy Rider LSD binge, nor a stop for a wine-heavy jazz night, nor a Neal Cassady-esque exploration of his sexual needs and desires. Like heaven itself, this road trip montage is sanitized, pure, and holy. This sanctity and purity of heaven’s road highlights the nationalistic mythology of America as a promised land, anointed by god himself, and above all others – the Pilgrim’s ‘city on a hill’. Whilst the audience can assume that heaven is supremely American because it is Dean’s heaven, it is difficult to intellectually separate your thoughts from what Supernatural is so powerfully visually telling us: heaven is America. By placing such strong (even if unintentional) nationalistic symbolism alongside the knowledge that John, Mary, and (soon) Sam will be central to Dean’s heaven, Supernatural marries two resolutely conservative American values: the heterosexual nuclear family, and god’s promised land of America – his heaven on Earth. This firmly aligns the mythology of the road closer to its conservative symbols, than its progressive ones. Perhaps such patriotic symbolism wouldn’t read as harshly when the pilot aired in 2005. Yet during the staunchly bipartisan Trump years where examples of white supremacy, violent jingoism, and xenophobia are rife, a departing message of an American heaven and the importance of a heterosexual nuclear family can be easily politicized and be seen as bolstering the patriotic symbolism which it draws upon.

A large majority of Supernatural’s fanbase (as oppose to general audience) is composed of young, progressive, and queer women. Supernatural’s narrative themes of found family and Castiel’s declaration of homosexual love engendered a sense within its audience that the series was narratively leading towards the progressive finale. Yet the patriotic road trip montage, the knowledge of Dean’s return to his nuclear family, and Sam’s montage of living out his life in an apple-pie, baseball throwing, middle-class house, heterosexual nuclear family lifestyle sans his deaf love interest (a montage more akin to the Raegan-era nostalgia films of the 1980s than anything made in 2020), tonally, visually, and symbolically reads as a finale steeped in conservative and Republican mythos. These are particularly tonally jarring for Supernatural’s progressive audience, especially after the promise of queer representation, disabled representation, and themes of a found family that were prevalent just two episodes previously.

In conclusion, Supernatural returned Dean Winchester to his road trip routes, yet divorced from his youth or an ability to progress as a character, the progressive symbolism of the road was nullified. By ripping him away from his desired domesticity and forcing him onto the freedom of the road, his deepest desires of a settled life and the freedom of choice were also destroyed, therein destroying his character arc. Supernatural, therefore, strips the progressive symbolism of freedom associated with the road and further sanitises and sanctifies it by placing ‘the road’ in heaven. We are left with a pure road, America as god’s land, the elevation of the importance of a nuclear family, and a nostalgic montage of Sam’s conservative life. Dean’s road is now imbued only with the conservative aspects of it the symbol’s mythology. For an audience in 2020 seeking progressive representation in the jingoistic years of Trump, to be confronted with staunchly conservative ideologies and symbols (which appear even more extreme than when first broadcast in the Bush years of 2005) there is no cathartic nostalgia to be had.

‘We laugh, at the [road trip] movies, at the frequency with which the hero goes ‘out there, away from all this’ to ‘find himself,’[7]but there is nothing for Dean to find at the end of heaven’s road. He is frozen forever in unchanging happiness – a hero deprived of a journey. And so Supernatural ends with Dean on the road, the camera portraying with powerful imagery a hollow and tragic myth, completely stripped of its progressive meaning. With socio-political and character context changed, Supernatural’s return to the pilot unintentionally satirises itself, and alienates a fan base who define themselves against the ultimate message of the finale: heterosexual nuclear family, and white national chauvinism.

I finish with Allen Ginsberg’s words in his poem Elegy for Neal Cassady, written after hearing news of Neals death at the age of 41.

OK Neal aethereal Spirit bright as moving air blue as city dawn happy as light released by the Day over the city's new buildings --

[...]

Sir spirit, forgive me my sins, Sir spirit give me your blessing again, Sir Spirit forgive my phantom body's demands, Sir Spirit thanks for your kindness past, Sir Spirit in Heaven, What difference was yr mortal form, What further this great show of Space? Speedy passions generations of Question? agonic Texas Nightrides? psychadelic bus hejira-jazz, Green auto poetries, inspired roads? Sad, Jack in Lowell saw the phantom most -- lonelier than all, except your noble Self. Sir Spirit, an' I drift alone: Oh deep sigh.

[1] Leed, Eric., The Mind of the Traveler, (1991), p. 13.

[2] Lackey, Kris., RoadFrames: The American Highway Narrative, p. xi.

[3] Henry David Thoreau, Walden and Other Writings, p. 172.

[4] Lackey, Kris., RoadFrames: The American Highway Narrative, p. 8.

[5] Laderman, David, Driving Visions; Exploring the Road Movie, (Austin, University of Texas Press, 2002), p. 76.

[6] Laderman, David, Driving Visions; Exploring the Road Movie, (Austin, University of Texas Press, 2002), p. 76.

[7] Lackey, Kris., RoadFrames: The American Highway Narrative, p. 92.

If you would like to read more about my writings on Beat literature and Supernatural, you can find them listed under my tag ‘Cas x Ginsberg x Buddhism’ . If you would prefer to have a PDF version of the above essay (is this an essay? i feel like it accidentally became one lol), then just let me know and I can send you that file. I wrote this this afternoon and feel like I have a lot more to say on this whole thing and barely touched upon lots of ideas that arose when I was writing this. I decided to stick firmly to the road symbolism stuff rather than bombard you with more than 3000 words in one go.

Thank you to @drsilverfish and this post of theirs which inspired me to revisit my Supernatural/The Beats tag, so thank you and you should all read that wonderful post. 

I started off rambling with this and then I decided to turn into into something of hopefully some worth and put effort into thinking over what I was trying to say. Do let me know if you want to to expand on anything I wrote here, and my asks are always open for questions. Let me know if more of this may be of interest. 

[pochiperpe90]

Here comes “The Old Guard”. Marinelli goes to Hollywood, alongside Charlize Theron.

“Alone, fragile and immortal.”

A story of love, friendship and compassion with an ancient warrior and a young African American, who has just discovered she is immortal, as protagonists. Because the world needs women and courage knows no gender differences. 20 years after “Love & Basketball” and after “The Secret Life of Bees” and “Beyond the Lights - Find Your Voice”, Gina Prince-Bythewood comes to the action movie with very clear ideas on how to reinvent the rules. We talked to her over the phone while she was in Los Angeles during the lockdown. 

A superhero movie that doesn't look like a superhero movie. Is that why you decided to make it? 

Absolutely yes, when I read the script I realized that despite the fantastic genre there was a very realistic background. These characters are real and it's easy for the audience to relate to them despite being immortal. They fight for goals and reasons that people understand. The more realistic the film, the more viewers can reflect themselves in the protagonists. 

In fact, the most fascinating aspect of the characters is their vulnerability: they are immortal, but up to a certain point, which is a paradox. They too have to deal with the sense of the end. 

There is a possibility that they may die, that their immortality is interrupted, that they still suffer from their wounds, and this brings them closer to us. The public still feels sorry for them when they see them in danger.

Immortals suffer, and not just physically.

Many think that being able to live forever would be extraordinary, but no one asks what this really means. Immortality has consequences: it can be a gift, but it can also be a curse.

And we don’t know why immortality fell to them. 

The thing I loved about the graphic novel and the script is the fact that there is no explanation. Not only do we not know it, but neither do the protagonists. But it is a trilogy and therefore there is still a lot to tell.

Could you offer your contribution to the script? 

It was a great script, with great roles based on the graphic novel so I stayed very true to the text. With the author, Greg Rucka, we wanted to reflect on the fear of taking someone's life, the one that sometimes overwhelms soldiers in war, whose psychology is often neglected. Hollywood films have never been very concerned with this aspect, as if killing had no consequences. The protagonists are forced to kill, but if someone has been doing it for centuries, for others it’s the first time. 

What struck you about Luca Marinelli? 

I could talk about him for days, I love him, he's the actor that all directors dream of having on set. He loved the character and gave him life in a very credible way. Between him and Marwan Kenzari is born a great complicity, necessary between two people who have been together for centuries. Luca's eyes are full of soul, his Nicky is the heart of the group, he’s the most sensitive character of all of them. 

Charlize Theron, who is also one of the producers, has an increasingly and more torn body.

Charlize has already played roles like this one, she is very credible in the genre of action and has been helpful to who had never faced it before. From her, who really worked hard, others learned to do the same. She is very credible in the role of a woman who lived for thousands of years.

Matthias Schoenaerts, on the other hand, has an insidious role. 

He embodies the tragedy of immortality, loneliness, betrayal. He is the actor who most resembles his character in the graphic novel. He wanted to make the film at all costs because he had never measured himself with the action genre and felt he had things to express. 

The film underlines how today it’s no longer possible to hide, images can capture you at any time. 

In a scene near the end, when the immortals look at photos and articles about them, they truly become aware for the first time of everything they have done to protect humanity. They understand the power of images from which they continually try to escape in order to hide their identity. 

And then we talk about science and profit. 

In the film, people from different places join forces to protect the world, a need even more relevant today. Yet it is increasingly evident that profit matters more than human lives. 

Do you think the film industry is becoming more inclusive with women? 

Things are finally changing and I am grateful that, despite having no other action films on my resume, I have been entrusted with The Old Guard. I am grateful for the trust they have placed in me. It should be taken for granted by now that women are capable of coping with any film genre and I think how much pressure from the industry Patty Jenkins, who directed Wonder Woman to success and opening the door for many of us, went through. But the door must be wide open because there are still few who have such opportunities. 

In your opinion, have opportunities grown with the arrival of platforms like Netflix? 

Netflix wasn't afraid to trust a series of directors. Which studio would have produced Roma or Irishman? He has the courage to make films that Hollywood deems too risky.

The Golden boy

“Luca Marinelli, as we have never seen him before: in his Hollywood debut, he becomes an immortal and fights with Charlize Theron to save the world.”

Just before the lockdown he was one of the jury members of the 70th Berlinale in the city where he has lived for years - and he swears he had so much fun watching three films a day. The audience awaits him in theatre in the role of Diabolik, in the film directed by Manetti Bros., but on July 10th he arrives on Netflix with The Old Guard, the action movie that sees him alongside Charlize Theron. And where he plays the Italian Nicolo, Nicky for the group of immortals he belongs to. Directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood and based on the graphic novel by Greg Rucka and Leandro Fernández, the film offers Luca Marinelli an insidious superpower, an endless love and a new opportunity to demonstrate his talent as a true champion. We reached him on the phone and he, less shy than usual, told us how he became a secular "superhero".

How did you get to the project? 

I auditioned in London, where I later returned and met the director. Lastly, there was a final meeting between me and Marwan Kenzari. We made a scene together and then they announced to me, "We'd love for you to be Nicky." 

What struck you about this character? 

The story fascinated me because it tells of immortals as if they were the damned. Nicky and Joe live this condition as a gift because they are linked by a wonderful love story and they are not alone. They met in an absurd and paradoxical situation, during the Crusades, ready to kill themselves. They did it a hundred times and then they looked at each other and fell in love. But others suffer from it, like Andy and Booker. In a beautiful scene, Booker, played by Matthias Schoenaerts, explains what happens to them: they see the people they love die and blame them because they cannot prevent it. And they are tired of watching the world repeat itself following the same dynamics. They fight to save people, but everything seems to go on the same way. Only in the end will they discover what they have done and what they are doing. 

How did it go with Charlize Theron? 

Well, it was wonderful! As I read the script I said to myself: am I really going to make a film with Charlize Theron? And hug as well! I was very excited and intimidated already while reading. She is an extraordinary actress. In the scene where we are at the table and everyone tells Nile something about us, Andy tells her what we are and it was nice to see her running and venturing into the midst of emotions and thoughts. Sometimes I got distracted and didn't say my line. But Charlyze is also a crazy athlete. You have to be really athletes, otherwise you don't survive at the end of the day. And Charlize is an athlete of the body and the heart. 

What about her athletic training? 

We got together a month before shooting to start working with the stunts. I had to get some athleticism back: when I arrived and they looked at me I think they were a little worried. We had to become familiar with martial arts and then we switched from the sword to other weapons and to hand-to-hand combat. We prepared scene by scene, including the choreographies, different for each fight, and each of us had his own rubber reproduction of the sword. It was an unforgettable training.

The immortals come from different places in the world. How much of Italy is there in Nicky? 

Apart from the pronunciation? They still laugh at some of the things I said. Marwan and Matthias, but also Charlize, speak Italian at different levels and every now and then I enjoyed shooting a few sentences to which they could answer me. 

Did you offer your character something that wasn't in the script? 

Well, being in such a group, shy as I am ... I tried. I have always focused on the bond between Nicky, Joe and the other members of the group, because I am interested in discovering what is inside a character, his feelings, how he looks at the world, what excites him. Nicky has lived for centuries, but still greets the people he meets in the desert with a smile, inside him there is the flame of an infinite good. Each character has a different sensitivity and their own armor. Nicky is perhaps the least armored one.

The challenge was also to make people believe in a love story that has lasted for centuries. 

Marwan recites a beautiful monologue in which he talks about their love story. I hope that each of us, in their short life, can say the same thing about the person they love. 

You’ve already had superpowers in “They Call Me Jeeg”. What is your relationship with this genre? 

I like it very much and I think that both films, very different from each other, have a very interesting soul. In Jeeg Robot, Enzo Ceccotti uses his superpowers to help others, taking on a social responsibility. In The Old Guard the protagonists put themselves at the service of others, even if no one has asked them to. “This is what we do,” they repeat over and over to each other. What they do is save people, participate in what they think is right. 

How do you think they would react to protests on American streets and around the world?

I don't feel like playing games, mixing reality and fiction on a terribly real subject like this. I think that in reality, outside of any cinematic fiction, it’s fundamental to fight for equality, within society, but also within ourselves. To go back to our film, if in a microscopic way we manage to carry a message in that direction, I would be very happy. 

What director was Gina Prince-Bythewood? 

She is always ready to listen, and I am someone who asks a lot of questions even at inappropriate times. She always had great patience and was very attentive to the emotional side of the film, to the interiority and beauty of the characters.

CIAK Magazine - Luglio 2020

Just wanted to translate this old interview for the non-italian’s fans ^^ (sorry for my English)

[twinklelilstarkey]

A Rafe thing based any of Olivia Rodrigo's new songs omg it would be an angst train but they'd kinda fit his character

Good 4 u - Rafe Cameron

A/N: Hey anon! I wasn’t sure if you meant this song or Deja Vu, so I made this one. Hope you like it either way.

Words: 2.7k+

Type: Angst

Warnings: Female!Reader. Cheerleader!Reader. Rafe is an asshole. Long relationship break up. All the suffering that comes with break ups.

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

To say your relationship with Rafe was complicated is an understatement. Constant on and off for the whole two years you dated. Surely hard for the both of you while it was happening, but by the looks of it, someone can move rather quickly. Almost like it’s nothing.

Rafe is at the end of the hall and already with his arm over the shoulders of some girl. And you have nothing against her, she’s beautiful and seems like a nice person, but he sure has some nerve. It hasn’t even been 2 weeks.

At least it’s the last week of high school, so, you got that to look forward to. No more Rafe and all his shit. 

For the two years you dated, he was your priority in everything. You helped him school, with his addiction, with his dad - found him a therapist, one you’ve worked with before and absolutely loved. God, it doesn’t even seem fair. Your parents paid for his visits there, too, yet he had absolutely no remorse when he broke up with you and said all those horrible things.

You’re better than this, Y/N. You deserve more.

You open your locker and quickly hide from any unwanted attention with the now wide-open door. You take a deep breath, ignoring the sudden wave of chills that seem to have wanted to crawl under your skin just now.

“Ew. Who the fuck is that?” You hear a voice behind you and you look over your shoulder.

Your best friend, Sadie, is about two feet away from you, walking slowly to stand beside you while glaring down the hallway. You follow her gaze and sigh as you notice that she’s staring at Rafe’s new girl.

Sadie is the type of person that just can brighten any of your days. No matter what she does. If she’s beside you, you’re okay. Or you, at least, feel okay.

“No idea.” You say while grabbing your duffle bag and slamming your door closed.

“You doing good?” She asks and you nod quickly.

“Yeah. I don’t give a fuck about him anymore.”

Sure, huge lie. But to be quite honest, you don’t exactly feel sad (yet). You don’t feel the need to cry or something of the sort, all you feel is... angry.

You’re going to ignore the fact that you cried your eyes out not even 8 hours ago in your bathroom when taking a shower before bed. It didn’t happen, it was all an illusion. You didn’t sit under the warm water and hoped that your sobs didn’t echo too much off the walls of the bathroom and that your parents could hear you.

You’re okay.

“That’s my girl.” Sadie says before wrapping her arm over your shoulders, “The girls texted me and they’re already waiting for us in the locker room.”

You give her a short nod and soon the two of you start making your way down the hall to get to the locker rooms. Ignoring the looks you’re getting, you smile at Sadie’s heavy description of her dream and you shake your head at the mention of her celebrity crush.

“I swear, Y/N, we were almost at it there...” She tries to convince you, “He just- looked so real.”

You giggle at her lovesick words and she lets out a sigh.

“I’ll marry him one day, you know?” She asks you and you nod. “We’ll have a huge weddin-”

She stops talking right as someone hits shoulder to shoulder with her. Her face goes from lovesick excitement to pure hate in a second.

“Watch where you’re going, dickhead!”

You lift your gaze to find Topper looking down at Sadie with just as much annoyance. She rolls her eyes beside you and makes sure to push him out of her way completely before starting to walk with you again.

A smile appears over your lips and you see him stare at your friend as if in disgust. Your gaze lifts to the rest of his friend group and you notice Kelce first, who doesn’t hesitate in giving you a smile as a greeting.

You mouth a little ‘hi’ as you walk away, yet your eyes don’t miss a beat when they notice that you just walked by Rafe and didn’t even acknowledge him. He still has his arm over the new girl’s shoulders, but he’s holding her closer now, almost as if to protect her.

From what? You?

His eyes study you back, half hooded, almost as if tired with what just happened. You scowl and face back at what’s in front of you, feeling your heart quicken with some sort of adrenaline. You’ve never felt like tackling someone to the ground so much in your life.

(...)

Cheer practice can be emotionally tiring, but the fact that you’re in your last practices for the rest of your life kind of makes it worth it. You love most girls and guys on the team, so it will be hard to say ‘bye’ to them, but you swear you’re dying to never use this uniform again.

Cheerleading was the thing that made you and Rafe meet, or should you say, what made him look at you. You two didn’t know each other before your first football game, yet that was what changed everything for the two of you.

“You know what?” Sadie asks beside you while leaning forward to touch her toes, “I totally feel like you should have an ex-girlfriend crazy kinda moment.”

Wait.

“What?”

“Like, I don’t know, key his car, burn his locker, cut up his clothes, destroy his notes- Why are you looking at me like that?”

You chuckle at her once you notice how shocked you must have looked at her words.

“You’re crazy.”

“I know, but you wasted money and two years of your life with that guy. He deserves something, especially after the way he left you.” She says while pointing a finger at you.

“I agree.” One of the cheer guys says as he walks by you.

“With me having to have crazy moment?” You ask him and he nods.

“Yeah. Cameron needs his wake-up call, why do you think we all hate him?” He asks and Sadie chuckles beside you as he walks away.

“You heard him.”

You shake your head and continue to stretch while deep in thought. 

You’re not going to do what they’re telling you to, but, god, the memory of your last day together still hurts. His words, so empty with emotion that you felt like you were in a nightmare, the way he pulled away from your touch when you almost pleaded for him to stay. Everything.

Yet, before you can even think more about it, Sadie decides to talk.

“You could totally get some gas and dump it all over his bedroo- Ah, No. You would have to deal with Ward there because it’s his house. But his bik-”

“Sadie!” You tell her seriously and she smiles at you, “I’m not going to do that.”

“You should.” Someone else behind you says.

Sadie burst out laughing and you shake your head at her.

“It wouldn’t resolve anything.” You tell her, ignoring the other cheer member.

As much as you like to joke around, the feeling is still too heavy on your chest. It’s still hard to act like everyone wants you to. Act like Rafe is acting.

“Okay, and? At least you could wake him up for life. He’s an asshole, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve you being nice to him.”

“Tell me about it.” You whisper to yourself.

She stays silent and you sigh.

“I just-” You begin your rant, yet you hesitate slightly. The look on her face calms you, “I just didn’t expect him to act like this not even a month later, you know? He acts like he doesn’t even know me, and when I talked to him last week, it kinda seemed- off? He was like a zombie, with no emotions, no nothing. Like he never cared.”

You look away quickly to look down at the floor and blink away your tears. Sadie didn’t notice it.

“He’s weird, I’m not going to lie.” She tells you and you sigh again, “And he has been weird for the longest time. His apathy is just... Ugh,” She cringes, “Stronger than ever, now.”

You stay quiet.

“He’s an asshole.” She repeats, “He wounded you and now just likes to scrub salt onto the wound. That’s the type of person he is.”

You stop yourself before you defend him.

“Or maybe I’m just too emotional.” You murmur to yourself.

(...)

You tap the end of your pencil on your notebook while carefully reading the question. There’s nothing like doing homework last minute, admit it, you swear you get smarter by the amount of pressure you’re putting on yourself.

“If he doesn’t stop staring, I’ll stab in the eye with your pencil.” Sadie says as she takes a seat beside you.

“Who?” You ask, not lifting your gaze over your book.

“Kelce-”

“He’s the nice one, Sadie. Remember?” You tell her with the most monotone voice ever.

“Still. He’s friends with druggy.” She says and you roll your eyes at her nickname for Rafe, “Speaking of the devil.”

You lift your eyes for a split second and they meet Rafe, who is just walking into the classroom, studying all the empty seats. You force yourself to look away and finish your homework, and the voice of your teacher stops you.

“Good evening, everyone.”

When did she even come in?

You take a deep breath and bring your hands to your head as you try to focus on the last question. Oh God, doing homework last minute isn’t fun anymore.

“Please, everyone- I feel like I’m repeating myself every class. Do not change places from one class to the other. Please seat with your partner from the beginning of the semester.”

Oh, great. She had forgotten to do this lately, why today?

“Come on, now.” She encourages.

You feel Sadie get up from her seat and she makes sure to pinch your arm before leaving your side, making you smile down at your notebook.

The familiar smell of a certain cologne reaches your nose, yet you don’t even look up. Rafe throws his stuff down at his side of the table and you continue to write the last words.

“Hope you all did your homework.”

You sigh in relief as you finally finish it while everyone else starts pulling their papers from their bags.

“Your paper, Mr. Cameron?” The teacher asks as she reaches your table.

He doesn’t answer her and she looks over at you. You give your paper to her and she gives you a small smile before moving to the next table.

That was a close one. Never again.

You lean back on your chair and look at your pencil, feeling the tension start to build up on and around the table you’re sitting at. You can tell by the corner of your eye that Rafe has his arms crossed over his chest like a toddler throwing a tantrum, and he’s staring at the board at the front of the class.

Your mind dives into a dream world and your attention is stolen to some memories. Your heart tightens like a sore muscle at the first image that comes up right at the beginning.

Memories of old habits that just ended up being a part of your routine. Things that you wouldn’t think of whenever he wasn’t close to you, but now that he is, they’re stronger than ever.

Every time in this class, you would doodle on Rafe’s right hand and always draw a little heart on the back of it, the space between his thumb and pointer finger.

“I’ll tattoo it one day.” He had said to you not even 4 weeks ago, during a class.

“Really?” You asked with a huge smile.

“Yeah.” He says, mimicking your bright smile, “You’re going to keep on doing it until then, so might as well get a permanent one.”

You blink the difficult memory away and look down at your notebook. You haven’t exactly had much motivation to take notes during the past few classes, for obvious reasons, so what’s written on the corner of the pages is already... not up to date.

It’s Rafe’s handwriting. They are just questions he would write down in your notebook when he couldn’t talk without the teacher hearing him.

You, overly curious, flip the pages back and stare at previous classes. Your eyes stop on one 2 months ago.

A bunch of rounds of tic-tac-toe scattered all throughout the page, yet your eyes focus on a conversation. It had both of your handwritings, yet it was all your pencil.

You read it with a small smile and your heart tightens further as you continue.

I swear to god. You’re the only person who ever gets me

You flip the pages again and at the corner of another page, you stop.

Love you. You got this!!!

“Let’s start with today’s class, yeah?” Your teacher asks, back at the front of the classroom.

You quickly bring your hands to your face and discreetly wipe away your tears. While no one is looking, you lay your arm over your side of the table and lean your head over it, flipping to the last pages of the notebook, acting like you didn’t see anything.

(...)

The bell rings and you lift your head from your arm. You watch for a few seconds as everyone starts putting all of their stuff away on their backpacks and ignore whatever the teacher is saying.

When snapping back to reality, you stand on your feet and throw your bag over your shoulder to make your way to the door, since you’ve put all your stuff away minutes prior to the class ending. Rafe had been the first to walk off the room, and to nobody’s surprise, he’s the first one you see when you walk out.

He’s leaning back on a random wall of lockers, looking down at his phone. You study it for a second and your mind focuses on him as memories continue to fill your thoughts. That’s exactly how he used to wait for you after class, leaning against your locker as he texts you.

A small smile appears over his face and he lifts his head to look down the hallway, making his smile stretch further. His bright smile is almost able to lift the pressure on your chest, making it easier to breathe, but, it isn’t meant for you.

You follow his gaze and your breathing stops abruptly, he’s smiling at her. Just like he did to you. 

You watch her as she smiles over at him and quickens her pace, running towards him. When she’s standing right by him, Rafe holds onto her waist.

They look at one another, eyes glued, while their smiles continue to be as bright. Her mouth is moving, yet you don’t hear her over how muffled your hearing is and also over all the people talking in the hallway. 

Rafe nods at her and asks a ‘are you serious?’, almost as if he’s proud of her. Proud of her accomplishments.

And they share a kiss.

Your breathing comes back heavy and you force yourself to look away again. Tears fill your vision and you step away from the classroom doorway. Away from them and everyone that seemed to be as entertained with the new couple.

You don’t study the looks on their faces, but a lot of people came out of the class and did the same thing as you. They looked at Rafe and at you, almost as if waiting for something to happen, but, nothing does.

As you walk away, Sadie calls out for you, just now being able to put all her stuff away and get out through the occupied classroom door. Her eyes study what everyone is looking at, and even she feels her heart sink to her stomach.

She calls out to you again, yet you don’t hear her.

The girl’s happy giggles enter and violate your ears, repeating over and over again in your head like an echo. While Rafe’s bright smile haunts you like a ghost as you push the doors of the school open.

Sadie runs through everyone and her screams and her running, seem to be enough to catch more people’s attention, even though she doesn’t even notice it.

She, in a way, feels like some sort of a bad friend. She had cracked jokes all day, believing that you were finally doing better and not even close to cracking again. But at the end of the day, you’re just as broken as you were a few days ago. All the cracks that had healed, have reopened for some unknown reason to her, except for the new girl. 

She has to get to you, now. You can’t be alone.

The new girl looks away from Rafe as a running girl hits her shoulder ever so slightly and she frowns as her eyes follow her. She looks panicked in a way, continuously screaming for the name of someone she has never heard before.

Her eyes then fall on the rest of the hallway, noticing how people are also looking at this running girl almost as if in... pity? And as she’s out of the doors, they all turn to her.

Rafe has told her multiple times that she doesn’t need to worry about the looks she’ll get, always the same things. 

“Why are they all looking at us?” She asks him.

“I don’t know. Probably just shocked that I finally am dating someone as good as you.”

And she was oblivious enough to believe him.

Fresh cold air hits your wet cheeks and you breathe in deeply, trying to wipe away the tears before anyone sees them. You notice Sadie now standing beside you and quickly, she wraps her arms around you.

It’s good to see him happy and healthy, to see him doing great, even if it’s without you. It’s good the see that he’s treating someone well, looking like a better man. Good for him.

But it still hurts because you’re not even close to feeling like that about yourself. You’re tired of crying and suffering.

Screw that, and screw him. 

Hope this was angsty enough. The ending has more references to the song than the rest, but... yeah. 

In case you’re curious on what lines I based some stuff on, here it is:

Hope you liked it!

[shihalyfie]

Shiramine Nokia, and her role in Cyber Sleuth’s narrative

This one’s on request! Cyber Sleuth is quite the interesting game and a rather landmark entry in the franchise, mainly for being a love letter to the franchise and its long history itself, and for being the franchise’s very first work exclusively aimed at adults, meaning that it can explore different topics that wouldn’t normally be Sunday morning timeslot material, while also being a little more willing to assume that the people playing this are familiar with a lot of older parts of the franchise (not that it’s advisable to have complete lockout, but the game benefits greatly by not needing to assume lockout by default).

One of the ways Cyber Sleuth exhibits its “franchise love letter” status is by starting off the game all the way back at the franchise’s roots, before Digimon Adventure changed the game and everyone’s perception of Digimon and Digimon partnership, when the V-Pet lore was intertwined with Digimon as elements of hard sci-fi. As the game proceeds, the atmosphere slowly starts to resemble the more fantasy-like version of the franchise established by Digimon Adventure and its follower entries -- and that change is represented in none other than Nokia herself.

Before we begin: As anyone who follows my meta work has probably noticed, I generally prefer to have my analyses use tons of references and screenshots so that it’s easy to follow and the evidence is concrete, but Cyber Sleuth is a game, and it’s much harder to get those things without replaying the entire game, so I hope this won’t be too hard to follow despite being mostly text.

Nokia’s background and personality

If we want to apply the producer’s statements on Twitter, Nokia is 17 years old at the time of Cyber Sleuth, and has a backstory of having originally been a shy, bullied child who broke out of her shell thanks to the influence of her cousin (who, of all people, happens to be none other than Date Makiko). The flashback we get with Nokia in chapter 18, however, portrays her as just a fairly cheerful, go-getter child, but (although we only get to see her hair) she’s not quite as “flashy” or in-your-face as the description entails.

A possible hypothesis for rationalizing this all together comes from a what we learn about the process of memory wiping in Cyber Sleuth chapter 14: even if memories are extracted from the person, there’s some kind of residual memory left behind (the producer’s above statement also states that the same thing had even happened to Suedou). In Hacker’s Memory chapter 16, Arata confesses to Ryuji that the first Under Zero incident and Jude's loss to the Knightmon had re-triggered his trauma from having lost Yuugo years prior -- “not the memory, but the feeling.” So in other words, there was some feeling of loss that came after the loss of Yuugo that impacted those involved -- and it’s very possible that this deeply impacted and traumatized Nokia as well.

Assuming we’re still following this line of thought (since, again, this background point wasn’t actually in the game proper), Nokia eventually decided to break out of her shell thanks to Makiko’s influence, and become eccentric and assertive, and thus, the game begins.

While we’re here, I also want to point out that Nokia is also voiced by Han Megumi, possibly the Digimon franchise’s most notorious “promoted fangirl” who freaked out after getting to meet her childhood characters’ voice actors while cast as Airu in the Xros Wars crossover and ended up casted in a handful of major Digimon roles thereafter as a result. Which is not to say that her voice performance wasn’t also absolutely perfect for the bright and aggressive Nokia, but, you know...considering the below analysis, food for thought.

Nokia as a representative of “the conventional franchise”

Cyber Sleuth opens on a world where Digimon are largely seen as hacker programs, and even the hackers themselves only see them as non-sentient programs; there are ones like Chitose who treat them with empathy, but his attitude seems to be kindness towards them in a way not entirely unlike a family would treat a Roomba. Although he doesn’t admit to it at first, Arata himself also comes from this “world” of hackers, and we later learn that Yuuko herself is as well (via her “Yuugo” persona), meaning that, other than the playable protagonist, Nokia is the only “outside-context” person -- a completely ordinary civilian who’s gotten dragged into all of this.

Much like, say, the protagonists of Digimon Adventure.

With this background behind her, once she’s thrown into the world of hackers, she immediately has a “fateful encounter” with Agumon and Gabumon, instantly recognizable as two of the franchise’s most prominent Digimon (and complete with their Adventure voice actors, too). And I do especially bring up Adventure specifically, because while Nokia’s position in the game does end up taking in certain elements that roughly came around that era and possibly slightly predated it (mostly Digimon World and V-Tamer), Agumon and Gabumon weren’t particular mascots of the franchise until Adventure basically blew everything to pieces.

Right off the bat, Nokia does not have a single shred of doubt that Agumon and Gabumon are living beings and should be treated as such (again, much like the protagonists of Digimon Adventure; even Taichi in his “is this a game?” mode never doubted this). And they open up their meeting with this conversation:

Agumon: Umm, who are you? Nokia: It... It can talk?! It's so... so... so adoooooorable! M-M-M-M-My name's Nokia. What're your names? Agumon: Me? My name is Agumon! Gabumon: I... I'm Gabumon. Nokia: Agumon and Gabumon? Hee hee! What weird names! Gabumon: Hey, they're not weird! Agumon: You're the one with the weird name! Nokia: As if! My name's not weird! Hee hee!

And on top of that, Agumon refers to Nokia as having a “familiar” scent. Remember this for later.

Nokia’s second encounter with Agumon and Gabumon in Cyber Sleuth chapter 3 involves her properly partnering herself with Agumon and Gabumon, and learning about the existence of the “Digital World”. Note that, for all intents and purposes, EDEN had been treated like the functional equivalent of the Digital World in this narrative up until this point -- cyberspace with hackers, coming from the network, it’s basically a “digital world” from top to bottom, and yet here Agumon and Gabumon are introducing the concept of a more fantasy-esque incarnation of a digital world. (And, in fact, despite EDEN being right there, many long-time Digimon fans playing this game often complained about how little you get to see the “Digital World” in this game, because of how associated that term is with something more fantasy-like.) So, again: here we have Nokia, who’s forming a partnership with Agumon and Gabumon as equals instead of recruiting them as hacker tools (even the protagonist wasn’t immune to this method), and being indirectly responsible for introducing the more fantasy-like concept of the Digital World that the modern franchise is currently associated with.

Nokia embarks on the conventional shounen anime character arc of starting off cowardly, but eventually learning to have her own inner strength, with her Digimon evolving in accordance to her emotions. And, eventually, in Cyber Sleuth chapter 8, she decides to form her own hacker team, called the “Rebels”. She ostensibly bases it off the old creed of Jude, having heard that they were a team that never caused trouble for others, but we later learn via Arata turning out to have been its former leader, and the even later portrayal in Hacker’s Memory of its spiritual successor Hudie, that this is an extremely rose-colored image of them -- Jude (and Hudie) was not a well-intentioned team by any means, but rather a sort of mercenary group meant to enforce the “freedom” of EDEN, often taking on shady jobs and “punishing” entities they considered to be causing chaos. But in this case, Nokia forms her team under the idea of legitimately fighting for justice and good will -- again, much like a Digimon Adventure protagonist.

In case the metaphor weren’t clear enough, Nokia decides that the members of her group will not be called “hackers”, but “Tamers” -- the same lingo used by the franchise to refer to a human who partners alongside a Digimon to help them get stronger -- and that she wants to promote the idea of humans and Digimon working in tandem (complete with emotional bonding exercises). For this, everyone looks at her weird, and yet her methodology, initially naive as it seems, keeps working, because Nokia’s natural charisma starts bringing people from different places together and making quite the formidable team. Everyone is perplexed by this, but perhaps it’s only natural, because Nokia has just independently invented the modern concept of Digimon partnership in a world where it did not exist. And this is eventually solidified by the Under Zero invasion in Cyber Sleuth chapter 10, in which Omegamon is finally formed (from sheer guts on her part).

Omegamon is yet another symbol of the modern franchise, but it’s important to remember that he hasn’t always been so; even his appearance in V-Tamer was as more of a tactical piece than any kind of game-breaker, but the impact of Our War Game! has led him to constantly make a resurgence in major franchise roles (maybe a little too much these days). However, on top of Nokia basically embodying the modern franchise itself by doing this, Nokia and Arata’s positions are an obvious reference to Our War Game! in particular, being Omegamon and Diablomon Tamers -- but they’re not seen directly fighting each other. In fact, Arata’s partner only ever reaches Diablomon when he’s at the highest point of his morality, so the reference is more ideological; Nokia represents the more idealistic and heroic side of Digimon, whereas Arata represents the more dirty-playing and cynical hard sci-fi side of it (remember that Diablomon himself was rather detached from the fantasy conflict of Adventure, being a mysterious entity that sprouted out of nowhere on the Internet and wreaked havoc). Moreover, Nokia’s usage of Omegamon embodies a theme that’s central to both Our War Game! and Cyber Sleuth itself as a whole -- while most people associate Omegamon with Taichi and Yamato these days, the original method of formation back in Our War Game! came from “bringing people from different places together”. Nokia managed to bring together a formidable army in a place where everyone else in the hacker world was trying to promote a dog-eat-dog philosophy, and the sense of cooperation is arguably making her stronger than anyone else.

(I should also point out that Nokia’s name is, obviously, a reference to the Finnish telephone communications company, and this has a lot of relevance to the game’s theme of connection, along with her phone Digivice...and, also, the method used to bring everyone’s powers together in Our War Game!’s spiritual successor, Diablomon Strikes Back. Feels a bit too on-the-nose here.)

In the second half of the game, when the world starts falling apart due to the Digital World portal opening, Nokia becomes one of most important people holding everything together as Arata goes off the deep end and Yuuko starts fixating on her own personal problems and revenge -- because she’s the one most in tune with treating Digimon as the living beings they are, she’s most active in advocating for them and helping them bond with humans, and and she’s the one making the chaos be a little less chaotic. The second half is basically the more fantasy-esque version of Digimon leaking into the sci-fi, with the sidequests progressively resembling your average Digimon anime monster-of-the-week episode, and holding that all together is Nokia, who becomes a vital figure in maintaining that fellowship by being in tune with the modern franchise’s philosophy.

Through all of this, Nokia ends up taking a role rather similar to a Digimon protagonist, which is highlighted very strongly in Cyber Sleuth chapter 18 when she ends up literally becoming the player character while the main protagonist is out of commission. During that time, Yuuko and Nokia learn the truth of what happened during the EDEN incident eight years prior -- and we also learn that the five children involved had an extremely conventional “first meeting in the Digital World” experience that could have been pulled right out of the first episode of a Digimon anime, with them having a lovely adventure meeting new creatures. And at the center of that “first contact” was none other than Nokia, Agumon, and Gabumon themselves:

Agumon: Um... who are you? Nokia: Ahem! I am Nokia! And just who are you? Agumon: Me? My name is Agumon! Gabumon: I... I'm Gabumon. Nokia: Agumon and Gabumon? Hee hee! What weird names! Gabumon: Hey, they're not weird! Agumon: You're the one with the weird name! Nokia: As if! My name's not weird! Hee hee!

Nokia, Agumon, and Gabumon’s meeting at the beginning of the game had been an (accidental) reenactment of their first meeting in the Digital World eight years prior -- and, in the flashback, Nokia invites them to go on an “adventure” with them. So in other words, Nokia getting involved in the hacker conflict at the beginning of the game was, unknown to all of them, her attempting to restore that beauty and idealism of the Digimon Adventure-esque philosophy and fun in a world where the Eaters had torn it away and EDEN had turned into a haven of cynicism and hacker battle royale.

In the end, the game’s conflict is only resolved by bringing everyone together; Arata has to be retrieved from the deep end, and Yuuko has to settle her deep-seated personal grievances. Everyone makes a promise to return together, in the sense of making things right and repairing the connections between them that had been cut in that incident. The final battle (momentarily) causes the playable protagonist to literally fall apart, and the one reaching out to them and sending her message to them at the end of the game is none other than Nokia herself -- again, in the absence of the game’s protagonist, Nokia is the one with the closest role, because in the face of the new world going forward, she was the one who contributed most to restoring its idealism.

Ultimately, all of this is especially because Cyber Sleuth works under one of the most terrifying imaginable premises for a fan of a kids’ franchise: “we made an entry for this, but for adults.” Many of us can testify that this kind of premise can go very well, or very badly -- the latter especially in the case of things that decide “taking the opportunity to do things that you can’t do on a Sunday morning kids’ timeslot” means “going out of your way to put edgy violence and sexy things and cynicism just because you can”, or, in other words, looking down condescendingly on its kids’ franchise roots with malice and deciding that something for adults means “more suffering” and not “issues that require more life experience to understand”. The reason the game ended up getting as much acclaim among longtime Digimon fans as it did was that despite being the franchise’s first venture into this territory, it did end up setting itself up as something that took that opportunity to do something new and unique that would have never made it into any of the prior entries (holy hell the doll quest) and yet never gave up on the idealism and themes of connection that make up the franchise at its core, and paid respect to everything that had contributed to all of that while it was at it.

And at the center of that is Shiramine Nokia, who is effectively the spirit of Digimon Adventure, condensed into a single character.

[rafael-silva]

under the sky and stars: a tarlos fic

When Carlos and TK take a weekend off to go camping, the last thing they were prepared for was their mini vacation getting cut short by the untimely activation of what’s said to be TK’s danger magnet.

*

What starts as a peaceful day is turned on its head when TK is hurt during their hike. Cut off from help and with no cell service, Carlos and TK work together to keep the younger man awake and getting the injury under control. They lean on one another, sharing memories, voicing confessions and finding comfort within each other along the way.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + cauterizing a wound

hurt tk strand, worried carlos reyes, major character injury, whump, angst, hurt/comfort, emotional/hurt comfort, injury description, softness, kisses, comfort

11.1k | rated T | on ao3

*****

When Carlos and TK take a weekend off to go camping, the last thing they were prepared for was their mini vacation getting cut short by the untimely activation of what’s said to be TK’s danger magnet.

Because, well, camping in the middle of nature, miles away from the city and with fluctuating cell service…what could possibly go wrong?

This particular camping spot was near and dear to Carlos, one of his all-time favorite locations. He’s frequently visited this very spot countless times with his family growing up, setting up their tents together, Carlos and his sisters looking for firewood while hiking and then building the bonfire, laughing and creating many memories along the way.

It had been a while since Carlos went camping there, mostly due to his busy schedule, juggling hectic shifts and long days, along with some days off, so he can spend as much time with TK as possible.

And once he was reminded of that spot by the memories feature from his photos app, popping up a selfie of the Reyes family from a few years prior on a hike, a thought crossed his mind. A very good thought. And he suddenly couldn’t contain his excitement at the possibility lingering in his mind.

He and TK were cuddling on the couch after a mutual exhausting never-ending day, both of them stumbling into their home within ten minutes of each other, weary to theirs bones. After a quick shared shower, they settled on the couch and into each other’s arms, drawing comfort from one another and watched a movie in comfortable silence.

“Have you gone camping before?” Carlos’s voice sliced through the quiet, his tone soft.

TK takes a moment to think, revisiting his own memories before nodding. “Yeah, a couple of times. When I was younger though, went camping in Upstate New York, once with mom and dad and the other time with just dad,” he replied, slightly intrigued by Carlos’s somewhat random question.

“So, there’s this camping spot,” Carlos had started explaining, running a hand up and down TK’s arm. “I used to go there all the time with my parents and sisters, especially growing up. It was kind of our safe haven, it had quickly became our spot and I was thinking that we could go camping there one weekend. I’d love to show it to you and share it with you,” he expressed.

TK moved so he’d face Carlos instead of having his back against the offer’s chest, and there was much emotion written in his features, his green eyes glued to Carlos’s brown ones.

“That place means a lot to me, and you mean so much to me, TK,” Carlos added. “It’s part of who I am, and I want to share everything that I am with you.”

TK’s eyes remained on Carlos, his expression soft.

“Of course, if you’d want to go camping, that is.”

TK lightly chuckled, nodding and moved closer to Carlos. “I’d love to. I mean, I’m not really big on camping, just because it wasn’t super easy to do while living in the city, but I’d do anything with you. Even if we were going to a random spot, I know I’ll love it. And the fact that that spot means so much to you, of course I’d go with you. I look forward to getting to know that side of you, Carlos Reyes.”

Carlos’s face had broken into a big, bright smile, his eyes twinkling. He returned the tender kiss TK brushes to his lips and leans into the paramedic’s touch when TK cupped Carlos’s cheek.

“Besides,” TK began with they separated, “one of us should know what they’re doing when it comes to camping.”

Carlos had nodded, agreeing. “Plus, we’ve both been working so much and so hard lately, I feel like we’re running on fumes and a break could really help us. And nature is a great healer.”

“Nature and love,” TK added before giving Carlos another kiss.

After managing to take the same weekend off, and Carlos calling his father asking to borrow his truck for the trip, Carlos and TK make a list of everything they need for the three days. They split it between them and each get what they’re responsible for by the agreed time.

The weekend approaches quickly to both their delight and that’s when Carlos and TK find themselves on the road, TK’s road trip playlist blasting through the speakers as Austin disappears in the rearview mirror.

And Carlos, Carlos smiles, stealing a quick glance at TK when they stop at a red light. The younger man is so at ease, leaning back against the headrest and Carlos’s heart swells with even more love for him. TK turns to look at Carlos, an identical smile on his face.

Excitement sizzles in Carlos’s stomach at the thought of creating even more memories with TK during this trip, and at one of his favorite places, too. He already starts to feel better, feeling the tension leave his body. Both he and TK had been looking forward to getting some peace, to recharge their energies and to spend more quality time together.

But TK’s said danger magnet was waiting in the corner, getting ready to strike and to throw them both a painful and unexpected curveball.

They arrive at the camping spot a couple of hours later. Carlos parks the truck at the end of the trail and switches off the ignition, excited to be back to this spot. It’s so beautiful that TK pauses his movement to get out of the car, looking through the window and taking it all in.

Carlos hops out, closing the door behind him and stretches his muscles. Their early start had been in their favor, the sun still hanging high in the sky above them, which tells Carlos they’ll have time to set everything up and walk around for a while before it gets dark, too.

TK follows Carlos, gazing around and the amount of green merging with the blue of the sky and the birds twittering around them takes his breath away.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Carlos says, standing by TK’s side.

TK nods. “Absolutely breathtaking.”

“Come on,” Carlos takes TK’s hand and begins walking further into the tree line. “It’s on foot from here, but it’s not too far in. But be careful,” he warns. “Some of the ground is really slippery and there are a lot of hills. Took a tumble once and sprained my ankle, I do not recommend the experience.”

TK tightens his hold on Carlos’s hand as he leads them through bushes, branches and tree barks, closely following Carlos’s trail.

After about an eight minute walk, they reach a clearing with even, dry ground and large open space.

“Here we are,” Carlos announces.

“Wow,” TK says, tilting his head upwards to look at the tall trees above them. They cast a shadow down at the campsite, but don’t completely obscure the sun, its golden light shining through the branches.

TK can feel the history here, the years it took for these tree to grow and flourish like this, and for the first time, he feels one with nature and he welcomes it. He closes his eyes, the soft wind colliding with his face and he draws in a deep breath, relishing in the fresh, clear air.

“It’s like all your worries wash away when you’re here,” Carlos’s voice brings TK back from his thoughts.

“I feel lighter already,” TK agrees.

But the spell is broken when TK groans and shoos away a mosquito. And Carlos mirrors him when he hears buzzing near his ear.

“Bug spray is in the bag, let’s get everything set up and we can walk around for a bit,” Carlos says.

After sending off texts to their parents that they’ve safely arrived (which had taken some time while they searched for a spot with sufficient cell service), it takes Carlos and TK two trips to bring everything they need from the truck to the campsite. They start with setting up the tent in the middle, and TK being completely out of his zone here, helps when Carlos asks, doing exactly what the officer tells him. Carlos is an expert as he works, his muscles and mind working together, knowing exactly what to do and what goes where, not missing a beat. The tent is set up in record time (based on TK’s knowledge and how often people say it takes forever to set up a tent) and TK wears an impressed expression.

Carlos chuckles at the look on TK’s face. “Learned to set it up during the summer I was fourteen. My father had told me and my sisters that we were setting up our own tents that time. It wasn’t easy, it took a lot of time and more than a few collapses, but eventually, the tent held.”

“Well, practice makes perfect,” TK smiles, planting a kiss to Carlos’s cheek.

“And sweat, a lot of sweat,” Carlos adds.

TK chuckles, opening their cooler and takes hold of Carlos’s reusable water bottle, handing it to him.

“Thank you,” Carlos gratefully accepts the bottle and takes a long swing of the cold water.

They move around in unison, TK retrieving the sleeping bag and undoing the zipper so it’s flat and lays it on the ground inside the tent then covers it with their duvet and places their pillows at the head of the tent.

Outside, Carlos arranges their sitting area, gathering the blankets that have been designated for camping. His mother had left them at his place a couple of years back, for whenever he’d take solo trips. He spreads the blankets around where the fire would be built then grabs the foldable chairs, arranging them behind the blankets.

“We have enough time for a walk before it gets dark,” Carlos says when TK emerges from the tent. “Everything else can be set up when we’re back, and we’ll get wood for the fire, too.”

TK nods. “Sounds wonderful, babe.”

Carlos grabs his compass and map, pocketing both for when he’ll need them and takes TK’s hand, and together, they stride into the endless greenery.

*****

The sun is setting when they return to the campsite, each of them carrying an armful of wood.

“These should last until tomorrow,” Carlos says, dropping the logs near the place for the fire.

TK does the same and awaits Carlos’s instructions.

Carlos kneels down and starts arranging the logs then looks up at TK. “Can you grab me the lighter fluid and matches?”

TK nods and goes to retrieve the items. A chill is starting to set in the air around them at the loss of the sun’s warmth and TK can’t wait to get cozy by the fire. He also grabs his hoodie while he’s at it.

He hands Carlos the medium sized bottle of lighter fluid and watches as his boyfriend pours some over the wood. Once he’s closing the bottle, TK lights a match and drops it over the fluid, the fire immediately igniting.

He slips on his hoodie and settles on one of the blankets, looking over his shoulder at Carlos when he hears rummaging from behind.

He smiles when Carlos shows him the bag of marshmallows and wiggles his eyebrows.

“Camping just isn’t proper camping with marshmallows,” Carlos declares as he sits next to TK, the bag in one hand and slim wooden sticks in the other.

He hands TK the bag, who promptly opens it and accepts a stick from Carlos. They both sear a marshmallow through their sticks and hold it over the open fire.

“Now, there’s an art to roasting marshmallows,” Carlos starts. “To get it crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. You can’t hold it too close to the flame and you have to keep rotating it so its evenly roasted.”

TK nods and does his best, but he pouts when the marshmallow completely burns.

“It’s okay, baby, it takes a few tries to get it right,” Carlos reassures him.

TK eats the burnt marshmallow and shrugs. “Soft on the inside though. Well, more like melty. And hot!”

TK tries again and again, and when his fifth marshmallow is still burnt (not as badly as the first one, but still burnt nonetheless), he shakes his head and laughs.

“And I thought I’d be good at this because I used to roast them over the stove growing up,” TK sighs.

Carlos’s eyebrows travel up his forehead and he’s shaking his head. “Not the same as roasting them over a campfire, definitely not the same,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, I’m learning that the hard way,” TK dramatically sighs again.

“Here,” Carlos hands TK his own stick with a perfectly roasted marshmallow. “You should have at least one that’s properly roasted.”

TK lightly elbows Carlos in the stomach and playfully rolls his eyes. “Okay, this is amazing,” he admits after eating the marshmallow.

Carlos smirks. “Besides, like you said earlier, practice makes perfect. So I guess we have no other option than going camping a lot so you can perfect your marshmallow roasting technique.”

“Hmm,” TK hums as he moves his face closer to Carlos’s. “Yeah, I guess that’s our only option,” he whispers.

Carlos smiles as he closes the small distance between them by capturing TK’s lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Carlos tastes a mix of TK and burnt marshmallows, and the combination makes his heart jump in his chest with joy; further proof that Carlos isn’t dreaming, they’re here, together in one of Carlos’s favorite places on the planet. TK easily opens to him and they pour into each other. TK’s free hand goes to the back of Carlos’s head as Carlos’s goes to hold TK’s face.

The kiss slows down, turning into a simple press of lips and they start exchanging small, chaste kisses before separating to catch their breath. They don’t pull back completely though as Carlos rests his forehead against TK’s.

They’re lying on the blanket a little while later, TK cuddled to Carlos’s side, after it was agreed that they’d had enough marshmallows for the time being. Otherwise, they’d get a sugar rush and neither wanted to experience the crash from that. Besides, they still hadn’t eaten the dinner they packed for the night.

Carlos had grabbed his zip up hoodie and slipped it on before lying down, the wind picking up a little and a shiver ran through his body. Once they’re both warm, both by clothes and each other’s presence, silence falls onto them, the leaves rustling around them the only sound as they watch the stars glitter above, vivid against the endless black sky.

“You can never see the stars this clearly in the city,” TK says in a quiet voice.

Carlos nods, not entirely sure if TK means New York or Austin, but he supposes both, because it’s true either way. He had heard about the light pollution in New York and how it obscures the night sky and its beauty, and from his experience living in Austin, the same can be said for the Texan city.

“There’s beauty in every direction you look here, it’s all encompassing. Left, right, up, down…you’re surrounded by it, you’re a part of it. There’s a lake this way,” Carlos points to their left, turning to face TK. “Me and my sisters used to go swimming there, the water is so blue and so clear and it’s the perfect temperature. We can take a dip before leaving, if you want.”

“Oh, but I don’t have my swimming suit,” TK points out.

Carlos doesn’t reply, instead he lifts a suggestive eyebrow as a smirk tugs on his lips.

“Ohhhh,” TK catches on to where Carlos’s head is at, and a blush paints his cheeks.

The nearby fire dances, the flames coloring TK’s skin golden and bringing out the green in his eyes. Carlos winks and the light pink rises up his boyfriend’s face and TK’s lips spread into a soft smile.

“Well, then, I couldn’t refuse that now, could I?” TK wiggles his eyebrows and moves closer to Carlos.

The beauty of the stars is momentarily forgotten as Carlos watches TK, getting lost in his features, taking it all in even though he can draw every detail in his sleep. He feels his heart grow in his chest with the amount of love he feels for the other man, gazing through green gates and into his soul, he’d willingly get lost in those irises for days.

Without a word, Carlos leans in and captures TK’s lips in a soaring kiss, giving TK his all and gladly receiving TK’s as the paramedic wastes no time in reciprocating.

“I’d come here alone, sometimes,” Carlos voices a few minutes after they return to their previous position. “When I was older. Sometimes my family would be busy and wouldn’t be able to make the trip, other times it was unplanned. I’d need to get away for a few days, and I’d find myself here. When things would get hard or overwhelming, this place was always there for me. This place offered me a lot of clarity over the years, opened my eyes to many things. Helped me dig deep into myself and really know who I am. Because here, in the middle of all this beautiful nature, that wasn’t so scary. It was almost like nature was telling me that it’s okay, that whatever happens, it’s all going to be okay, that it’s all just that, natural and organic. And eventually, whenever I needed to make a decision or when I just needed to think, I’d come here.”

TK waits a beat, fingers fidgeting with the zipper of Carlos’s hoodie and then asks a question. “Did you ever come here to find clarity about…me? Or us?”

Carlos is silent for a few moments before nodding. “Yeah, after you got shot,” he swallows, his mind taking him back to that horrific week.

He tightens his hold on TK, unconsciously needing to know that TK is okay, that he’s with him, right here, right now.

Then something clicks in TK’s mind. “When you texted me that you were leaving town for a couple of days, you came here.”

Carlos nods. He had sent that text a week after TK was out of the hospital and recovering at home. He had seen him a couple of times since his discharge, each time his emotions and feelings towards TK growing and bubbling more in his chest. And after making sure TK was really okay and was taken care of by his team, he had decided a trip was needed.

Falling for TK was unexpected, it had taken him by surprise and so did the amount of feelings he’d quickly developed for the other man. He needed to gather his thoughts and to process it all. He thinks back to those couple of days, pacing the ground for what seemed like hours, his mind going in a million different directions. It’s only when he sat down and looked up at this very sky, that he really started seeing everything, truly seeing.

Carlos draws in a deep breath before continuing, looking up at the sky now. “Like I told you that day at the juice bar, seeing you in that hospital bed was very hard, and all these strong feelings I had for you, they really took me over. I’d been out of the dating game for so long when I met you, and I never expected to fall for you as quickly as I did. And although I had felt it blossoming in the days and weeks before you got hurt, I truly realized just how much I felt for you when I found out you got shot. And then when I saw you lying in that hospital bed, that feeling of my heart dropping into my stomach and that pang in my chest,” he pauses, “…it scared me, the strength of the feelings scared me, the thought of losing you and losing everything we could be before we even truly began terrified me,” his voice breaks a little with the last few words.

TK finds Carlos’s hand and gives it a light squeeze.

Carlos recovers and continues. “And then you woke up and got sent home and every time I saw you, the feelings just grew and grew and there was no stopping it, not that I wanted to stop it. But I still didn’t know what we were, and I didn’t want to push you, knowing what you had gone through. I guess I just needed to process it all, it had all jumbled together and I needed to untangle it. So I came here, because this place always helps with that.”

“And what did you realize?” TK carefully asks.

Carlos turns his head once more so he’s looking at TK. “What I knew was true all along, that what I felt for you, all those feelings, all that love, was natural and organic. Cosmic, even. I realized it came from the deepest of places, the brightest and purest of places, it came from the soul, from the bottom of the heart. And that realization felt right, it felt good. I remember smiling then because I felt lighter, I felt like that realization breathed fresh air into my lungs. And I wasn’t scared anymore. I was hopeful. I knew this love was worth fighting for.”

TK is quiet for a while, letting everything Carlos said sink in, and the flickering flames reveal the unshed tears swimming in his eyes. Carlos’s words had been so honest, so vulnerable and it moves TK, fills him with even more love for Carlos.

“So, in a way, this place had brought us together,” TK expresses.

Carlos nods. “Which is one of the reasons I wanted to bring you here.”

“It really means everything, you sharing this place with me,” TK runs his thumb over Carlos’s knuckles. “I also realized what I had known all along that day of the solar storm, after the bus rescue and on the way to the hospital. I was scared, too. Getting into something and starting a relationship was the last thing on my mind when I got to Austin, but that connection to you, that pull between us, it felt right from the very start. I resisted it, though, I did, because I was still dealing with everything that happened in New York. But that day, I realized I wanted to deal with everything with you, with you by my side. I was learning to stand again, I knew that was something I had to do on my own but I wanted you to be there for me to lean on when I needed it. You gave me strength, Carlos, every day, and you continue to. You brought color back into my life and I knew then I wasn’t scared anymore. And you’re right, our love is cosmic and worth fighting for. It’s always under the sky and stars.”

Thinking back to that night, lying on the hood of the Camaro under the Northern Lights, the moment they really gave them a chance and started the journey of everything they would become together, TK smiles.

Carlos makes the connection, as well, mirroring the soft smile. “The sky and stars really do have a way of bringing us closer. Our love being cosmic sounds particularly appropriate.”

A gentle kiss is shared as they move even closer together, gravitating towards each other, always in each other’s orbit.

The tent goes forgotten as they fall asleep under the stars, wrapped in each other’s embrace, blanketed by the comfort of their love.

*****

If TK is distracted by watching Carlos, who’s wearing a tank top and sweat shorts, stride around the campsite while he gets their breakfast ready, well, who can blame him? TK’s eyes find themselves glued to Carlos’s biceps and the way his muscles contract and move under his skin, making TK miss the words Carlos is directing at him.

Carlos pauses, lifting an eyebrow. “TK? Earth to TK?”

“Hm?” TK snaps out of his trance and eyes go to Carlos’s face, which is just as captivating.

Carlos chuckles lightly. “Welcome back.” Then he’s smirking. “Like what you see?”

He gets it, though, knows the power of the tank top. Because he, too, loves it when TK wears his own tank tops, and Carlos finds himself in the same position TK was just in.

A blush crawls up TK’s neck and face as he bites down on his low lip, his eyes roaming over Carlos’s majestic form. He nods after a few moments.

“You’ll do,” TK playfully teases.

“Oh, is that it? I’ll do?” Carlos whispers, his tone a little heavy and low as he takes tentative steps towards his boyfriend, the smirk still drawn on his face.

“Yeah,” TK nods again, his eyes not leaving Carlos’s.

TK smiles against Carlos’s lips when the officer leans in for a kiss and returns it, his body filling up with warmth at their contact.

“Come on,” Carlos says when they pull apart. “We gotta have a good breakfast because we have some exploration ahead of us today. And other activities, too,” Carlos lifts an eyebrow and winks at TK.

They keep up their flirting and playful banter throughout breakfast, and once they’re finished and Carlos had gathered the stuff they’ll need and packed it into his backpack, they start their journey into the woods, Carlos leading with TK close behind.

The first couple of hours go by smoothly. Carlos shows TK a few of the spots he would frequent when he’d visit here, telling him stories along the way and sharing the memories he’s built with his family. He snaps pictures of TK here and there, some while he wasn’t looking, others with TK posing along with a bunch of selfies of them wearing big smiles.

They come to rest at a clearing, deciding to take a break before continuing their hike. Carlos finds a large rock to sit on, taking a few sips of water before his eyes find TK. The other man is roaming around, looking up at the trees and taking it all in. He comes to a halt on an elevation, looking into the distance and doesn’t realize he’s right on the edge of a hill.

Carlos’s face falls a little when he notices where TK’s standing, and he’s about to tell him to take a few steps back when TK himself turns around and starts to move towards him.

Carlos’s newfound relief lasts for only a brief second as he watches TK stumble. He quickly gets to his feet, moving to help steady TK while a little voice at the back of his head supplies slippery mud, but it’s too late.

For a moment it feels like an out of body experience and in an instant, he’s running to TK. It takes a second, but before he reaches him, TK looses his balance and falls, Carlos’s eyes going wide and his heart drops into his knees as it happens.

Carlos freezes, arms stretched out, heart hammering and eyes glued to the space TK occupied a second ago. He was right there, within his reach and then he wasn’t.

The image of the panicked look on TK’s face and his green eyes blown wide with fear will forever be etched in Carlos’s mind.

He swallows and finds himself at the edge a moment later as he looks down. It’s a nasty fall, even though it’s not a drop but a slope, the steep angle surely would have increased TK’s speed as he rolled downhill. The area it’s littered with rocks of all sizes, and TK’s body would most definitely be bruised and battered by the impact against them.

Carlos yells out when he finds his voice. “TK! TK! Hang on! I’m coming for you!”

The panic in his gut starts brewing even more at the lack of a response from TK.

Carlos weighs his options, and a quick survey tells him there’s no other way to get to TK except down this slope. He takes a deep breath and very carefully starts making his way towards where he’ll find TK.

He almost slips a few times during his descend, tree leaves crunching under his hiking boots and his feet sinking into piles of leaves and small bushes. He keeps calling out for TK on his way down, still getting no reply from the other man. Carlos tells himself he has to get a hold on the panic rising in his body, he feels his hands begin to shake and wills them to steady. He needs to be composed to help TK, to get him out of this. TK is relying on him.

That knowledge gives Carlos the strength he needs and he gathers himself, letting out a small sigh of relief when the ground appears to even out before him.

Then his eyes land on TK, who’s sprawled out on his side, his back to Carlos. And he isn’t moving. And Carlos can’t tell if he’s breathing from this angle.

Carlos’s legs move on their own accord and he’s sprinting towards TK, dropping to his knees next to him. His eyes run over TK’s face and head, where he finds a cut under his hairline that’s oozing blood down his face, and his usually neat hair is filled with torn leaves and covered in dust. He watches TK’s chest closely next, and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he spots the rise and fall there, although shallower and shorter than he’d like, but TK is breathing.  

“TK? TK, babe, can you hear me?” Carlos speaks, his voice coated with worry.

With TK still unconscious, Carlos starts doing what he could: check TK over for any visible injuries on the rest of his body.

And he most definitely was not prepared for what he found. He couldn’t stop the sharp gasp that tears from his throat when his eyes land on a large, jagged open wound on TK’s right thigh. There’s blood gushing down his leg and dripping into a puddle beneath the paramedic, a stark crimson staining the rock below.

“Shit, shit,” Carlos mumbles and breaks himself out of his haze.

He knows he shouldn’t move TK until he’s sure there’s no spinal damage, but he also needs to apply pressure in hopes of slowing down the bleeding and the only way to effectively do that is to have TK lying on his back.

Knowing it’s his only option and the best chance TK has in this moment, Carlos very gently and carefully, while supporting TK’s body and carrying his weight, repositions TK and then clamps both hands over the wound and pushes down as hard as he can, putting all his weight into it as he prays that it isn’t the day he loses the love of his life.

He knows deep down it won’t do much good because he can already feel the blood seeping through his fingers. TK’s blood. Carlos’s stomach churns in an unnatural way and he has to squeeze his eyes shut and attempts to get his irregular breathing under control.

It seems, however, that the pressure does achieve something because Carlos is quickly opening his eyes when he hears a sharp painful gasp. The adrenaline, that same small voice at the back of his head supplies once more.

TK is haphazardly moving his head from side to side, eyebrows knitted together with confusion. Carlos easily finds TK’s wide eyes, filled to the brim with panic and fear and does his best in comforting and calming his boyfriend.

“TK, TK, hey, hey, look at me, look at me,” Carlos guides, trying to get TK’s attention.

The erratic movements eventually slow and TK focuses on Carlos through his blurry vision, tears springing into his eyes. He blinks a few times, trying to clear his line of sight sending a couple of tears down the sides of his face.

“Carlos…” TK whimpers through clenched teeth, reaching out for his boyfriend and closing his fist around the material of Carlos’s tank top, holding on with all the strength he could muster.

“I’m right here, baby, right here,” Carlos is quick to reassure him. “Stay with me, TK, hang on.”

“What…what happened?” TK asks when he gathers his breath.

“You fell down a hill, probably slipped on some mud and lost your balance. You were unconscious when I found you and you have a cut on your head and I think you could have a concussion. Can you wiggle your toes?”

After a moment, TK nods, knowing why Carlos is asking.

“Okay, good. But…”

“But?” TK questions and manages to lift himself to look at where Carlos’s eyes had landed.

TK gulps, seeing the wound and the alarming among of blood he had already lost and tries to keep the sizzling panic at bay. He knows panicking won’t help, that he needs to remain calm.

TK groans, pain flaring through his leg and making him a little dizzy.

“I think a piece of wood punctured your thigh and then broke away. I’ve been trying to slow the bleeding but it’s not working very well,” he explains, his voice filled with the panic he’s trying to suppress.

TK is silent for a few moments and Carlos fears he fell back into unconsciousness. But then TK is speaking, clearly having slipped into paramedic mode in those few seconds.

“Okay, we need to make a tourniquet, hopefully that will help slow the bleeding until we get help,” TK says.

Carlos nods, thinking back to what they have in their backpack. His heart drops some more when he realizes they don’t have anything for a tourniquet. Besides, the backpack is up that hill and there’s no way Carlos is leaving TK alone.

Making up his mind, Carlos takes off his tank top and looks to TK for instructions on what to do next.

TK frowns. “What…”

“This is everything we’ve got.”

TK nods, no time or energy for arguing. He already feels weaker and his head is starting to spin. But he evens his labored breathing, not only trying to access his own body for internal injuries but also to be able to properly tell Carlos what to do. He’s not alone, Carlos is here, and they can do this, together.

“Okay, you need to find a strong stick, it needs to be thick so it doesn’t break when it’s twisted to tighten the tourniquet,” TK tells Carlos.

Finding a stick in the woods, should be simple enough, Carlos thinks as he looks around, still in his position and applying pressure to TK’s thigh. Once he spots a stick that could work, he takes hold of TK’s hands and guides them to the wound, pushing them down there.

“I need you to hold pressure while I do this, TK. Can you do that for me?” Carlos asks and once he’s sure TK has complied, he moves to retrieve the stick.

TK gives it his all. He’s scared, and he doesn’t want to die, he doesn’t want to bleed out on this hill in the middle of the woods. He doesn’t want Carlos to have to watch it happen. He doesn’t want to ruin what this place means to Carlos. He doesn’t want to miss out on spending the rest of his life with Carlos. So he fights against the darkness creeping at him from the corners of his eyes and gives it everything he’s got.

But he’s tired, he’s so tired, and his hands momentarily stop working. But a voice reminds him to stay awake, stay awake…

Carlos can tell, that as expected, TK’s strength is faltering by the way more blood is running free down the paramedic’s injured leg. So he does his best to keep TK awake and talking until the tourniquet can take over in controlling the bleeding.

“Hey, TK, stay with me,” Carlos pleads. “Tell me, what’s next?”

TK nods. “Loop…loop the shirt above the wound and then place the stick over the loop and tie a knot,” his voice trails off.

Carlos follows TK’s instructions, his hands working quickly to do as TK says.

“Then…rotate it and the knot is going to tighten,” TK continues using a shaky breath. “It should help control the bleeding.”

“Okay, you ready?” Carlos asks, his worry filled eyes moving to TK’s face, knowing how much tourniquets hurt when they’re applied.

TK draws in a breath and nods.

“Okay, here we go,” Carlos starts twisting the stick and his heart clenches and shatters some more at hearing the throaty and pained moans that TK lets out.

The younger man’s eyes are squeezed shut, face crunching up in agony as the groans keep spilling from his mouth.

It works, and Carlos can see the bleeding is substantially slowing down.

“It’s working, it’s working,” Carlos sighs, closing his eyes for a few moments and taking in a deep breath, his shoulders slumping forward.  

And now it’s time to figure out where they ended up and how to get back to the campsite, into the truck and to the hospital as fast as they can. Carlos knows the tourniquet isn’t a permanent solution and he’s worried about infection setting in.

He fishes his phone from his pocket and prays for even one bar of service, but disappointment settles in his stomach at the words no service glaring at him from the top of his screen.  

He sighs, turning back to TK.

“Hey, TK, still with me, baby?”

TK gives him a weak nod.

“Listen, I have to go back up to get the backpack, you need to hydrate and the map and compass will help us get back to camp,” Carlos explains, hating that he has to leave TK. “I need you to keep holding the tourniquet in place, to make sure it doesn’t get undone. I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Be…careful,” TK replies, closing his hand over the stick when Carlos places it there.

“I will be,” Carlos responds and leans down to brush a kiss to TK’s forehead.

It takes every inch of strength Carlos has to pull away.

“I’ll be right back, baby.”

Carlos rushes back up the hill, trying to be as quick but as efficient and safe as he possibly can, not wanting to leave TK alone for long. He faces some difficulty climbing up but manages to avoid slips and falls.

He’s panting when he finally makes it to the top, grabbing a hold of the backpack and then stops for a second. He pulls his phone out again, praying for service and rejoices at the one bar of service he finds.

He puts the phone to his ear and his heart thumps in his chest as he waits for it to connect. After what feels like an eternity, it starts ringing, and another lifetime after that, Owen picks up.

“Owen?” Carlos speaks, his voice tight. “Owen, can you hear me?”

“Carlos?” Owen replies but his voice is so far away.

“Owen, we need help,” Carlos continues, praying that Owen can hear him over the line scratching between the words.

“Carlos—you’re breaking—can’t—”

Then the lines goes dead.

A glance at his phone tells Carlos the one much-needed bar of service is gone.

“Damn it,” Carlos growls with frustration, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

He’s back at TK’s side a few minutes later, and finds his boyfriend barely holding onto consciousness.

“Hey, TK, I’m back,” Carlos announces, kneeling next to TK once more.

He notices that TK’s hold on the tourniquet has loosened a bit so he tightens the knot to control the bleeding again and his heart sinks at the almost lack of response from TK.

Shock, that voice in his head speaks again. He needs to get TK out of here right this moment.

“TK, you with me?” Carlos says as he digs out the compass and map.

TK mumbles something in return.

“Good, stay with me, baby. Didn’t I tell you that I don’t recommend tumbling down a hill? You had to go and try it yourself, huh,” he attempts to lighten the mood with their familiar playful banter but doesn’t quite succeed, his voice coated with fear and worry.

“Take it up with that hill,” TK murmurs back.

A short wet chuckle escapes Carlos, at least TK is doing his best to reciprocate. It’s a small victory in the battle to keep TK awake.

Carlos swallows before continuing, “I almost managed to get through to your dad on the phone,” he says, hoping to keep TK engaged until he figures out how to get back to the campsite. “It was only one bar, though, and it cut off before he could properly hear me.”

He feels his own disappointment mirrored back at him from TK when the younger man frowns.

“Okay,” Carlos nods, getting their bearings and finding the direction they need to move in. “We need to head west, and if we stay on this trail, it should lead us back to camp.”

Carlos moves so he’s behind TK to help him sit up. He places his hands below TK’s shoulders and very slowly and gently starts pushing him up. TK tries his best to help with his weight, but it’s no use, all his energy has been drained. With a hand still steading TK, Carlos reaches his other into the backpack and pulls out a water bottle.

“Here, you need to drink,” he hands it to TK.

TK accepts it with shaky hands and lifts the bottle to his mouth after popping the cap open, taking a few short sips.

“Ready to get up?”

“I’ll try,” TK replies, his voice hoarse.

“I got you,” Carlos promises.

Looping TK’s arm around his shoulder for a better hold on him, Carlos pushes himself up, taking TK with him. TK groans as soon as he’s standing still, closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness takes over and pain starts pulsing up and down his injured leg.

“No, no,” TK shakes his head. “It hurts.”

Carlos glances down and curses. Just the mere movement of TK standing up has caused more blood to pour out of his wound, and he knows more movement will dislodge the tourniquet even more.

Carlos shoulders the bag and then wraps an arm around TK’s waist, pulling him towards him.

“TK, I’m gonna need you to put all your weight on me, and absolutely no weight on that leg, okay? I’m going to get you out of here.”

TK distributes his weight on his good leg and on Carlos, dragging his injured leg as he pretty much hops along the way Carlos leads them.

“We’re not that far from camp,” Carlos pants. “I’ll carry you there if I have to.”

And he does. As soon as TK grows even weaker in Carlos’s grip around the halfway mark, the younger man’s muscles deflating, he does exactly that and carries TK the rest of the way.

Once they finally arrive at the site, Carlos carefully lowers TK down on a blanket near the extinguished campfire. He’s about to move to collect their important things when TK’s hand wraps around his wrist and stops him.

“Carlos,” TK heaves. “Carlos, we…we have to stop the bleeding.”

“The tourniquet is in place, I’ll make sure it stays that way…”

But TK is shaking his head. “It didn’t completely stop the blood, even when it was first applied,” he swallows. “Movement will cause more bleeding…and already lost too much blood…nearest hospital is a few hours away, can’t wait.”

“Then what are we supposed to do?” Carlos asks, the panic in his voice breaking through.

TK takes a deep breath before answering. “Cauterize it.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in and then Carlos’s eyes are going wide. “What? You mean, you want…”

“Need. I need you to do it, babe.”

“What? No, no, TK, I can’t—I can’t do that,” Carlos vigorously shakes his head, eyebrows drawn together. “There has to be something else, another way—”

“There isn’t,” TK matter of factly responds. “That is the only way.”

“No, TK, I…” Carlos’s voice breaks.

“Hey, hey,” TK reaches his arm out to Carlos. “It’s gonna be okay, I’ll talk you through it.”

Carlos moves so he’s in TK’s reach and takes his hand. He knows there’s no time to argue—that there’s no need to argue. He has to do this to save TK. TK trusts him and needs him to do this. And even though Carlos is scared out of his skin, he knows what needs to be done. Knows TK needs him now more than ever. He pushes his fear down and wills his heart to calm, ready to do whatever it takes to save the man who has saved him.

Carlos takes a deep breath and nods, sniffing. “What do you need me to do?”

“Need to get the fire going and grab one of the kitchen knives we packed…”

*****

TK slumps backwards, working on catching his breath as his hands go to wipe the tears that had streaked down his face during the agonizing procedure. Carlos is almost done wrapping TK’s thigh with a sterile bandage from the first aid kit after cauterizing it. TK feels Carlos’s lips against his forehead a few moments later.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Carlos whispers against TK’s skin, heart in pieces at the pain TK had just gone through.

“You did everything right, babe,” TK reassures Carlos with a quivering breath. “I knew it was going to hurt.”

“Here,” Carlos hands TK his water bottle. “Drink some more water while I gather our important things and we’ll be on the road soon.”

“There’s time to pack everything,” TK says. “I’m okay.”

Carlos studies TK for a moment. “Are you sure?”

TK nods.

Carlos throws on the first t-shirt he finds and makes quick work of taking down the tent and gathering their stuff. He haphazardly piles everything into the back of the truck, not bothering to pack anything properly. As long as everything is secure, that will do.

Less than ten minutes later sees Carlos helping TK into the passenger seat then getting into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. He sighs when he sees there’s still no service and TK can read the tension sitting in Carlos’s shoulders and in his squared jaw.

“Carlos, babe, I’m okay, the worst is over,” TK holds Carlos’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

Carlos turns to look at TK, taking in his pale complexion and clammy skin. His expression morphs into one of heartbreak and worry. “You can still get an infection, you could still have a concussion,” his eyes travel to the cut on TK’s head. “And there’s no telling what kind of damage that fall did to you internally.”

“All things we’ll deal with one at a time,” TK says calmly, although he wouldn’t be able to speak any louder even if he wanted to. “Take a breath, baby, it’s okay.”

Carlos takes a few moments to gather himself, preparing himself to drive and getting his nerves under control. Once he’s ready, he shifts the gear into drive and they start moving.

“Just don’t fall asleep on me, okay?” Carlos tells TK, his focus on the road.

“Okay,” TK replies.

“Play music if you want, and can you keep an eye on the service bars? We’ll call your dad first chance we get.”

TK opts to play a calmer playlist than the one they listened to on their way to the campsite. This playlist helps to relax him, which in this situation may not be the best of things, but TK also knows that Carlos needs to relax too, and upbeat and loud music will most definitely have the opposite effect on him. So TK settles for it, and pushes past the wave of sleepiness it cloaks over him.

The world passes by in a blur as TK stares out the window and replies to Carlos when the officer makes sure he’s still awake.

“There’s two bars,” TK says when he checks for service again, immediately calling his dad, his phone connected to the car’s bluetooth.

Owen picks up after a few rings. “TK! It’s good to hear from you, Carlos tried calling a bit ago but we got disconnected.”

It’s Carlos who replies to him. “Owen.”

The fire captain immediately picks up on Carlos’s shaky voice. “Carlos, what’s going on?”

“We’re on the way back, TK got hurt on a hike. He’s doing okay now but we’re going straight to the hospital,” Carlos explains.

Owen draws in a deep breath and needing to hear TK’s voice, he calls for him. “TK, son?”

“Hey, dad,” TK replies weakly. “I’m okay.”

“Everything is going to be fine. Which hospital are you going to and how long until you arrive?”

“West Park Memorial is going to be the closest and we’re about an hour away,” Carlos responds.

“Okay, I’ll meet you there. Be careful on the road, please.”

“Will do,” Carlos promises.

“I’m so tried,” TK mumbles after they hang up with Owen, shifting in his seat.

“I know, baby,” Carlos replies without taking his eyes off the road. “But I need you to stay awake for me, we’re almost there.”

TK manages to stay awake until they’re ten minutes away from their destination. Carlos calls for him but he doesn’t answer, giving into the impending darkness that’s been threatening to take over for hours now.

Carlos feels the panic stirring in his gut when TK doesn’t respond, doesn’t move.

“TK, baby, you gotta stay awake,” Carlos tries with no success. “TK, please,” he then uses a hand to take hold of TK’s and realizes with a pang in his chest that TK’s skin has lost some of its warmth.

“Shit,” Carlos curses, his own body and face heating up. “TK, you have to wake up, babe.”

The following ten minutes were some of the longest of Carlos’s life. The further he drives, the farther the hospital got, or so it seemed. After what felt like three eternities, the hospital finally comes into view and he honks a few times as he drives up the ramp leading to the ER entrance.

A doctor and a couple of nurses emerge with a gurney and Carlos jumps out and moves around the truck to open the passenger door.

“We were camping and he fell down a hill and cut open his thigh, he was losing a lot of blood and the tourniquet wasn’t stopping the bleeding completely. He’s a paramedic with the 126 and said we had to cauterize it so I did,” he explains. “He also might have a concussion from the fall. And he can’t be given opioid-based medication.”

The doctor nods while the nurses lift TK from the car and onto the gurney. “How long ago?”

“A few hours,” Carlos replies. “He lost consciousness about ten minutes ago.”

“Okay, we got him now,” the doctor reassures Carlos while performing initial tests on TK. “I need you to park the truck and then fill out some forms while we run a few tests. I’ll leave word at the ER front desk. What’s his name?”

“TK Strand.”

“He’s in good hands,” she nods before retreating through the sliding doors.

Carlos watches as they wheel TK into the hospital, the doctor giving orders as they moved. He starts to feel his own knees growing weaker as TK disappears down the hall and the doors slide shut. It feels like a part of his heart has just been torn from him.

He repeats he’s going to be okay over and over in his head as he climbs back into the truck and until he’s striding into the ER, a mantra to keep him calm.

“Hi, I was told I need to fill some forms for TK Strand. I just brought him in,” he says to the charge nurse at the front desk.

She nods and hands him a clipboard with a pen attached. “What’s your relation to the patient?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Carlos replies. “And I’m his emergency contact.”

She gives him a soft smile. “They took him into an exam room to check him over and to run some standard tests. I’ll have someone take you to him once you fill out the forms.”

Carlos nods and begins filling out the empty spaces.

He’s lead to TK ten minutes later, following the nurse to where TK is being examined. She stops in front of a closed door and turns to Carlos.

“He’s right through there, his results should be in soon,” she informs him. “Just press the call button if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Carlos nods and slowly opens the door as she walks away.

And he could cry tears of joy when he’s met with hazy green eyes once he steps into the room.

“Hey, Ty,” Carlos softly breathes, relaxing a little at seeing TK awake.

“Hi, baby,” TK replies, a small smile forming on his face.

Carlos is by TK’s bedside in three strides, taking his boyfriend’s hand and giving it a comforting squeeze.

“I’m glad to see you awake,” Carlos says. “You gave me quite the scare.”

TK winces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know. It’s okay, baby, I’m just worried about you,” Carlos runs his thumb over TK’s skin that thankfully now feels a little warmer than earlier, courtesy of the IV fluids TK’s been given. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, a little out of it and tired, but the fluids are helping,” TK replies.

Carlos’s response to that is interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket.

“Hey, Owen,” Carlos answers.

“Carlos, I tried calling TK but it went to voicemail,” Owen responds.

Carlos can tell that he’s power walking by the way his voice wavers a little. “We forgot it in the car. We’re in the ER.”

“I’m walking in now. Which room are you boys in?”

“Oh,” Carlos pauses, realizing he’s not exactly sure which way he was lead. He must have zoned out then, he thinks. “Um, ask for TK at the front desk, a nurse will show you the way.”

“Okay,” Owen replies. “I’ll be right there.”

The door is pushed open a few minutes later, revealing a worried Owen, his face crunched up in concern. He breaths a sigh of relief when he sees TK awake but his eyes still radiate the fear bubbling in his chest at his son, once again, landing in the hospital.

His eyes move from TK to Carlos as he steps into the room, placing a hand on Carlos’s shoulder and squeezing there before moving to TK’s side.

“Hey, son,” Owen gives him a small smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, a little better now,” TK replies after clearing is throat.

Owen’s eyes survey TK, noticing the butterfly bandage on his forehead and then his eyes widen when he spots the bandage on TK’s thigh.

Turning to Carlos, he asks, “what happened?”

“He took a tumble down a hill, he lost his balance, most likely on wet mud. He rolled down and his thigh probably got cut by a wooden stick or log. We tried a tourniquet but it didn’t hold well, so we…” Carlos pauses, his eyes moving to TK then back to Owen. “We had to cauterize it.”

Owen’s eyes go impossibly wide at that, digesting everything Carlos had said. “It was that bad?”

Before Carlos can reply, the door is opened and the doctor walks in.

“Doctor, this is Owen, TK’s father,” Carlos introduces. “I was just telling him what happened.”

Owen extends his arm to shake her hand. “How’s TK doing?”

“As well as expected,” she replies. “Any headache, nausea or double vision, TK?”

“No, just a little hazy and feeling a bit out of it.”

“That’s to be expected, I don’t think you have a concussion but I’m going to take you to get scans on your head and stomach to make sure everything is clear.”

TK is being wheeled out by a couple of nurses a few minutes later, but not before Carlos brushes a kiss to his forehead.

Owen and Carlos are sitting in silence when the officer’s voice cuts through it.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault,” Carlos sighs, hands fidgeting with each other.

“What are you talking about?” Owen frowns.

“TK’s fall. I know the place, I know how an area can appear stable but it isn’t, I learned that the hard way but I never had a fall this bad. And the blood, he was bleeding so much when I found him and…” Carlos trails off, drawing in a shaky breath. “For a moment, I thought we weren’t getting out of there. For a moment, I thought I was going to lose him.”

“Hey, Carlos, look at me,” Owen says.

Carlos slowly lifts his gaze from the floor to meet Owen’s.

“This wasn’t your fault, this was an accident. Don’t blame yourself for what happened. And you didn’t lose him. You got him out of there.”

“I just keep thinking if I had maybe said something a moment earlier…I wouldn’t have had to…it was so hard to do that. I was terrified,” Carlos admits, remembering how his heart hammered against his ribcage during the procedure. “And seeing the amount of pain TK was in…”

Owen places his hand on the back of Carlos’s neck and gives him a supportive squeeze there.

“Listen to me,” Owen says after a moment. “You did everything you could for TK, you took care of him, you pushed through your fear for him, you got him here…you did everything right,” Owen echos TK’s words. “You saved his life, Carlos.”

Carlos swallows and sniffs. “I’d do anything to make sure he’s okay.”

“I know,” Owen nods. “And I’m so incredibly grateful for that. He’s going to be fine, you both will be.”

Carlos knows there’s more than a few nightmares lingering ahead in the wake of TK’s injury, but as long as they’ve got each other, they will be okay. He just needs to know that the worst is truly over.

TK is brought back into the room twenty minutes later, Carlos and Owen getting to their feet as he’s settled in again by the nurses.

Owen sits on the chair while Carlos sits on the edge of the bed, taking TK’s hand.

“I’m okay,” TK gives his boyfriend and father a smile.

Carlos nods, returning the smile through unshed tears, the weight of his conversation with Owen still heavy on his bones.

The doctor appears half an hour later, holding a few files.

“The good news is that all the scans are clear, no head or internal injuries. But I’d like to admit TK for observation, so we can keep a close look on the wound for a couple of days and watch out for an infection,” she explains.

“Whatever you think is best, doctor,” Owen nods.

“Alright then,” the doctor nods. “I’ll get the paperwork started and have TK moved to a room upstairs shortly.”

TK knows it’s for the best, because he honestly feels like crap and doesn’t want him and Carlos to deal with an infection at home, but he can’t help the groan he pushes out.

“It’s okay, babe,” Carlos reassures him, cupping his cheek. “Just to make sure everything is alright, only for a few days.”

TK nods, leaning into Carlos’s touch, the officer grounding him.

*****

They’re thrown another curveball when TK develops a fever overnight.

A cot was set for Carlos in TK’s room while Owen had gone home, making Carlos promise to call or text if anything changes. The officer was awake when TK’s fever was discovered by a nurse. He had to inform Owen with a hastily sent text while keeping up with what the nurse was saying, writing it out in the message. He watched as the nurse administers antibiotics into TK’s IV line and starts him on some medications to reduce the fever and clear out the infection.

TK stirs in bed, the fever taking a toll on his body and making him uncomfortable. He groans and peels his eyelids open to the sunlight gently streaming in through the blinds.

Turning his head to the side, his momentarily blurry vision clears to reveal Judd in the chair by his bedside.

“Judd,” TK whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Hey, brother,” Judd smiles. “Do you want some water?”

TK nods and takes a few sips out of the straw when Judd holds the cup for him.

“He’s getting coffee,” Judd says without TK needing to ask, knowing what’s on the younger man’s mind by the way his eyes darted around the room. “Looked like he needed it, too.”

TK nods. “When did you get here?”

“A while ago, sat with Carlos for a bit. Your dad called this morning and told me what happened and I wanted to see how you’re doing,” Judd gently pats TK’s shoulder. “You’ve been in and out for a while.”

“Yeah,” TK clears his throat. “This fever is really kicking my ass.”

“I, uh, you had me worried there for a second when I heard,” Judd sighs.

“I’m sorry, it was a freak accident. I was scared, too but I’m okay, Carlos took great care of me.”

Judd nods. “You’ll be better in no time, brother,” he reassures him. “Get some more rest,” he adds, seeing the way TK’s eyes drift close. “Your man will be back when you wake up.”

True to Judd’s word, Carlos is by TK’s side the next time he opens his eyes.

“Hi, baby,” Carlos smiles when he sees TK awake. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” TK replies, his body feeling more at ease. “You look better, too,” he points out, taking in Carlos’s appearance.

Carlos nods. “Knowing you’re getting better helped. Your fever decreased and the doctor thinks it will break soon. And they’ve been monitoring your wound and changing the dressing and it looks better, too. They think the infection will clear out by tomorrow.”

“And I’ll go home?”

“And you’ll come home,” Carlos confirms with a smile, carding his fingers through TK’s hair.

TK feels lighter at Carlos’s words, feeling that the worst is truly over now.

“Thank you, ‘Los. You literally carried me and put me back together.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

TK stays silent, knowing there’s more on Carlos’s tongue.

“It just…it felt like you were slipping away from me and…I was so scared,” Carlos closes his eyes and unshed tears shimmer when he opens them a moment later.

“You helped me hold on, Carlos, you gave me strength. And I knew it was going to be okay because you were by my side. I know what I asked wasn’t easy and I know it will take its toll but you did it. You saved me. And I’ll always fight to come back to you,” TK vows.

“I’ll always be right here,” Carlos vows back, brushing a kiss to TK’s temple. “Oh, and mom and dad send their love and well wishes. They were really worried but I told them everything is looking up now. Mom made me promise that we’ll go over for lunch as soon as you’re well enough. She’s probably setting the menu now.”

TK chuckles. “I’d love that. It shouldn’t be too long, though, I’ll be taking some antibiotics for a while and my thigh will be sore but only for a couple of weeks. It will scar, but…”

“Hey,” Carlos squeezes TK’s hands. “Scars show what you overcame, what you survived.”

“What we overcame and survived,” TK corrects. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Carlos leans in, resting his forehead against TK’s and takes in everything that is TK. Carlos easily lets himself get lost in TK’s scent, a reminder that TK is here and that he’s okay.

And seeing TK sitting up and talking, having regained most of his color now, Carlos can finally properly breathe again since watching TK fall.

*****

When TK suggested they go camping again, Carlos was hesitant at first, his once beloved spot now tainted with the memories of TK getting hurt. But TK reminds him of what that place means to him, not wanting the memory of the accident to be Carlos’s most recent association with the spot. He tells him that going back can help them both, reminds him of the strength of his connection to that campsite and Carlos eventually agrees.

And when they return to the campsite a couple of months later, TK is proven right, in more ways than one.

They go back after TK has fully recovered and Carlos no longer jolts up awake in the middle of the night, covered in a layer of sweat, heaving with TK’s yelled name on his lips.

Carlos is standing by the water, enjoying the cool breeze and the warmth of the sun on his skin when a pair of arms wrap around him from behind and hold him close. He smiles, leaning back into TK’s chest and rests his head against the younger man’s shoulder.

“Still as beautiful as ever,” TK whispers against Carlos’s ear.

Carlos nods. Still, however, a part of him can’t fully enjoy it anymore, the memories of TK’s accident too evident in his mind.

With a kiss planted to Carlos’s temple, TK pulls back and the officer turns to follow a few moments after.

And when his eyes land on TK, who’s down on one knee in front of him, Carlos draws in a deep breath while his eyes go wide.

Tears spring to Carlos’s brown eyes as TK opens the red velvet box in his hands, revealing a stunning silver ring sitting inside.

And the identical bright specks glittering in their eyes when TK asks and Carlos answers with, yes, a million times yes and the lighting surging through their bodies at the kiss that follows…

Well, their love is cosmic, after all.

And now, standing by the lake Carlos had painted for TK before, wrapped in each other’s embrace, they both start to fully heal, souls uplifting, their hearts lightening and beating as one.

With that, this place no longer carries the scars of almost losing TK and everything they are and could be, but now serves as a reminder of the strength of their love, mending the scars and holding the promise of a brighter future ahead.

[inventors-fair]

Just to Clarify: Quote Contest Runners-Up ~

Our runners-up this week are @helloijustreadyourpost, @nine-effing-hells, and @starch255​! Very close all around.

@helloijustreadyourpost​ — Tolsimir’s Summons

Out of the cards this week, this is one that I feel is close to something we could see in an actual return to return to return to Ravnica, and I do like that a lot. Tolsimir comes and he brings his wolves and then you got some token summoning and it’s a really great card all around! Slow-ish big enchantments have been a Selesnya kinda-staple (even if there’s no watermark, which is a STRIKE against you.....lol, not actually) in the form of Privileged Position, Growing Ranks, Collective Blessing, etc. and this card fits right in. A great limited card for a beatdown, I say.

And of course, this being a flavor-based contest, this card feels good. You can get your dogs, and they return, and Tolsimir’s a good dude bringing them back. It’s a great relationship and I think that it fits in quite well to both the character, which is resonant but not necessarily deep without a lore-diving, and the mood, which is that wolves are lovely and there’s a bond between the creature and its guardian. I think for the flavor text could have and should have been reduced to one line, not just for text space but also because your card’s impact is strong enough already. “As Voja returns to me, I shall return to him.” could have been perfect, because your art direction as well shows what’s happening in relation strongly enough that we don’t need the extras. It’s a simple mood, but has emotional resonance. That’s what’s important!

~

@nine-effing-hells​ — Crown of Mogis

Even without art direction, I can visualize what’s happening here. And tis excellent! Mogis, described sometimes as “rage-crowned,” is certainly one to actively bestow that upon someone. And I really love how this ties in with the mechanics so well. The invocation to slaughter and the intimate command are oddly strong to me. I think that it’s nice to see that Mogis does indeed have his favorites, you know? Like there’s certain minotaurs that he takes and he gives them this piece of fury and from that, they lead, and it’s a blinding madness when he brings it into the mortal realm with the privilege that comes from it. That much ties in well, the strength between the mechanics and flavor.

The only question mechanically is whether or not this can be in mono-black, or whether it should be. In a limited format, getting this on turn two means you could be getting a 2N drop in green, white, or blue with Swamp>Creature, Swamp>Crown, [basic]>creature, which... Well, okay, that’s borderline strawman, but it’s a real possibility, and the question is, is that okay for the format, to give haste in hybrid? But you can give a lot of weird things in hybrid, and black is secondary (tertiary? No, secondary. I’m not gonna look it up, if I’m wrong, it wouldn’t be the first time) in haste and can do some funky things with it. The “can’t block” is a downside that not every color wants, though, so that’s at least something that makes it significantly more aggressive. It’s a good question you’re raising here. I think that it’s okay but I’m not sure. At the very least the design is based in greatness and if need be can just be a RB card no hybrid, but I think that it’s okay to risk it. Maybe.

~

@starch255​ — Mageta’s Roar

Look, you can tell me that Mageta’s not actually a giant lion-man all you want, but he’s still a zillion feet tall and you know what that means for me. As for this card, well... I drafted SNC at the store last night, and let me tell you, ETB abilities are no joke. Anyone playing with this card could have some fun for sure. The fact is that Scapegoat is still a fringe Cheerios combo piece sometimes means that this card could see a home there, plus it’s just a cantrip... You know, that’s the thing, this card is incredibly strong if you’re a smug mono-white player, because it’s basically “W: Draw a card.” And that’s my main mechanical quibble? I think, if I had to choose, you could have to target at least one thing. Or, you could only draw a card if YOU returned at least one creature to your hand this way. But ETB abilities are still powerful enough that I’d certainly have a fun time with this card. I mean, heck, I play Spirited Companion, Skyclave Apparition, etc.

Flavor-wise, well, there’s certainly nothing to complain about. I like how it’s both something that would make an enemy tremble in their boots (and make me swoon to watch) or something that would make a soldier summon the resolve to stay and fight (like me, who would be swooning to hear). Am I biased? I’m not answering that. Look, in all seriousness, this card conveys exactly what it wants to well. Mageta is keeping his people safe by allowing them to return while he roars, thus allowing them to enter again and fight, and he’s giving the opponents’ creatures a chance to flee, and the flavor text pulling double-duty while making an interesting mechanical tie-in works for me. Both of the things that it wants to do are being done well. That much is worth commending!

Thank you all once again for your entries! I’m about halfway done with commentary, so hopefully we’ll get that in before the day is done. Tally ho! - @abelzumi​

[auburnflight]

Jeanne, Vanitas and Agency

From the little I’ve dipped my toes into it, the VnC fandom seems pretty heated regarding Jeanne as a character. In drastic situations, I’ve seen accusations of misogyny based solely on someone’s comments on their feelings about Jeanne... a single character. And while yes, critiques can certainly be rooted in misogyny (must women be strong all the time? must they be submissive?), I think it’s important to consider not just the character herself, but how the story treats her and why we’re making the critiques we are.

Given that points of view in the fandom are so polarized, I’m going back to canon--to the text itself--to orient this essay. In particular, I’m going to focus on the point of agency--the freedom to make one’s own decisions about one’s self and one’s course of action. This goes beyond just Jeanne’s background as a borreau, trained to fight and follow orders. Agency is also consequential in her relationships with other characters and with the story as a whole.

(Content warning for discussion of abuse dynamics, and brief mentions of sexual assault.) 

--

It’s natural to start off with Jeanne’s first appearance in the story: alongside Luca, she’s introduced as a new agent of conflict with Noe and Vanitas’s budding alliance. In fact, she is the one who initiates the physical altercation with Noe and Vanitas, while Luca is still trying to talk them into giving him the Book of Vanitas:

Aesthetically and conceptually, she’s introduced as an active element of the story. At this point, the “forced kiss” scene during the initial fight seems more like a fluke, a comment on Vanitas’s personality (and willingness to do despicable things to get what he wants) rather than Jeanne’s.

That brings me to why I found it so jarring when colored art of her that was subsequently revealed: that agency fell away to portray a visually more passive air.

In the existing full-color art we have of Jeanne, she’s more static in her environment, looking towards the viewer but with a face that looks rather blank, even meek. Specifically I want to point out this wallpaper, which I obtained from the official site fairly early on in Vanitas’s serialization (December 2016), in contrast to another piece of official art that was released of Noe and Vanitas with Memoire 11, around the same time:

In both cases, the characters are posed intentionally, rather than actively doing something. And, they’re aware of the viewer’s gaze to some extent. However, Jeanne has her back turned to the viewer, and her expression is more idealized and ambiguous. Meanwhile, Noe and Vanitas are rather assertive: their expressions are more intentionally focused, and they seem to know their situation in the artwork. Jeanne is simply passive, very nearly objectified.

...Yeah, maybe this is just my art background speaking. But I also notice something similar happening in other official colored pieces of Jeanne, such as the cover of volume 4.

By this point in the story, lack of agency has become an even more significant element in Jeanne’s character arc: we learn that she’s been cursed. Not only is she unable to speak of the curse, it’s also in direct opposition to one of her primary character motivations, to protect Luca and those she cares about. Due to her uncontrollable urge to kill and drink blood, Jeanne fears that she’ll unintentionally hurt the very people she’s trying to protect. 

Jeanne’s involvement with Vanitas also unfortunately comes with a sacrifice of her own agency. Seeing that she’s been cursed, Vanitas demands that she drinks blood from no one but him in exchange for keeping her secret. He further establishes her sense of reliance on him by promising that if he ever does see her lose control, he’ll kill her (so that she doesn’t harm Luca). Whether he’s simply a smitten 18-year-old who doesn’t yet know how to conduct healthy relationships, or whether he’s crafty and intentionally drawing Jeanne in further--or even whether it’s a mix of both--this idea of Vanitas’s control over her is reflected in the cover art for volume 4.

At this point, considering the literal events of the story, Jeanne’s passiveness is not only visual, but symbolic. In this illustration, Vanitas’s hand is grabbing Jeanne by her bow, and functionally by her neck: she’s being dragged along against her will, with little means of escape. And she looks at the viewer with a surprisingly similar expression to the previous illustration: one that communicates little say in the situation.

This matches up with their literal relationship in the story itself. Knowing she’s cursed, Vanitas is establishing her exclusive reliance on him, in exchange for keeping important secrets from others with whom she’s close (i.e. threatening to drive a wedge into their relationship). He’s already pushed himself upon her physically with clearly no warning or enjoyment from her. Yes, he’s been kind. And when Dominique trails Vanitas and Jeanne on their date, she notes that Jeanne is “terribly weak against any sort of kindness.” But in spite of some more “cute” and candid moments, the overall dynamic between Jeanne and Vanitas is far from genuine kindness. Returning to how Vanitas garnered an edge over her in their initial fight--with taunting, carefully chosen words--I would phrase it more as that Jeanne, a borreau trained to kill and inexperienced with matters of feelings, is particularly susceptible to emotional manipulation. (There’s more than a little irony in this internal comment from Jeanne, at the beginning of her date with Vanitas:)

Jeanne’s relationship with Vanitas becoming important isn’t, in isolation, inherently an issue. In most cases, it’s fun to see how a character who usually appears unshakeable is rounded out when we see them at their more vulnerable times. What makes me feel squicked out and worried on Jeanne’s behalf is how it’s executed, considering how it works in opposition to how she was introduced as a character, and how Jeanne and Vanitas’s relationship harkens back to known dynamics of abuse. 

In other words, my discomfort is not at Jeanne herself for falling for Vanitas and his tactics. It’s at how she’s introduced with a promise of agency in her own story, and that agency is subsequently taken away in how she’s portrayed in official art, and in plot points as the story progresses. It’s at how their relationship begins to fall into a harmful template perpetuated by rape culture, where a man forces himself upon a woman at first, but she is shown to eventually enjoy those advances even when unwanted. I had high hopes for Jeanne as a character developed with her own agency, motives (and yes, for cool fight scenes that WLW like me can admire), and so far, Vanitas’s effect on her has threatened to overshadow these. This is where I think sections of the fandom throwing accusations back and forth of each other being misogynistic, on the grounds of criticizing Jeanne and her relationship with Vanitas, fail to see the wider issue.

Of course, eliciting this sort of discomfort may even be the whole point. Jun Mochizuki is known for putting her characters through tragic and painful situations, and her previous work Pandora Hearts is rife with unstable, imbalanced, and otherwise less-than-perfect relationships. But even without this background knowledge, a decisive scene that convinces me of the intentionality of this purpose is one I’ve written about before: Jeanne’s internal fantasy as she’s left unattended by Luca and loses herself in a storybook.

Here, Jeanne fantasizes about being the agent in her own story, a position that, the art reminds us, is often occupied by a male character such as a prince. Ultimately, this progression looks innocent and could serve to remind us of Jeanne’s more vulnerable, innocuous side. But including it here in the story could also serve as foreshadowing, a contrast to what Jeanne’s situation is like for her in reality. (If you want to read more on this panel specifically, my analysis is in the source link of this post!)

Essentially, critiquing Jeanne as a character requires more nuance than simply judging her individual characteristics. It’s necessary to also take into account the way that the story treats her and her relationships with others and other forces in the story. Not just is she allowed to be soft and emotional, but what consequences does this have for her, and how do the story elements lead the reader to feel about her being soft?

Personally, I think she’s very likeable as a character--her situation just seems unfair, and I feel like she deserves so much better than Vanitas and his schemes. I mean, she could easily destroy him with her gauntlet, and he knows it! But, then, it’s Jun Mochizuki. We should probably expect to be feeling pain and pity for her characters. Still, the relationship between Jeanne and Vanitas has always kinda rubbed me the wrong way, and I think this pretty much sums up why.