#Using the fact of me writing this during the breaks to progress with my university assignment lmao

[morselmint]

Prayers

1. To Artemis

Khaire, Artemis!

Goddess of many names!

You take pride

In roaming the forests

Rarely visiting divine Olympus.

Your illustrious mother

And loyal Nymphai

Stand beside you

As you hunt on mountain hills.

O, bright goddess of the moon,

You push people to nature.

If my offerings were sweet to you,

Pull me closer to divine

And ground me in your domain.

Please keep my mind sharp

Like your deadly arrows.

Thank you, for being with me always.

I shall forever praise you.

Prayer to Lady Artemis. Written by me. Shared with her approval. Hope that this will help and/or inspire someone <3

[randomnumbers751650]

I finally have time to talk about Lone Trail. I will be focusing on its depiction of science, technology and its progress. Will get a bit political, but funnily enough less than I imagined.

The thing that called my attention most in Lone Trail were the discussions on the nature of scientific progress. This is a theme that’s dear to me and the stuff I research about. It’s easy to think of scientific progress like an inevitable march forward, like an escalator. After all, we are much richer than we were before, right? Go to OurWorldInData dot org to play around with economic statistics in time – make sure to check the World GDP chart, from year 0 to 2000 and see it taking off like a rocket from year 1700.

What kind of Uncle Ted fan or neoluddite would go against that? Haha…hah…

Truth is that, although its effects are there, it’s not a clear if this is the little, neat process techbros want us to believe. It’s new and produces more, therefore it’s good, right? I could be writing this as a new wave of AI-generated NFTs pollute my algorithm.

That’s what makes the storytelling in Arknights so effective: it mashes together fantasy and sci-fi to really tell stories on the role of beliefs, technology, science and religion. The Rhine Lab saga is definitely an exploration of technology, with focus on the equivalent of the United States. During the period before the First World War, 1870-1913 (which is the one that Arknights draws most from), the world underwent through the so-called Second Industrial Revolution and I’ve read economic historians considering it the most innovative period in human history. I mean, obviously, there is an absolute number of inventions in our current age, but in relative terms 1870-1913 experienced a much larger number relative to the previous one.

The escalator narrative constructs scientific achievements as work of daring people (mostly men, but there were women like Marie Cuire), that combined science and technology to help mankind, like Prometheus giving mankind fire from the gods (in fact, one of these books is even named “Prometheus Unbound”); more than often they have to fight against the establishment. Remember Ignaz von Semmelweis? He just wanted doctors to wash their hands. Even I learned this standard narrative in the university. But that’s not the entire story.

The positivistic paradigm – of a science free of value judgements, made with the power of math – has actually helped build this escalator narrative. In reality, some scientists and scholars are horrible people. Later, I learned that Semmelweis, as much as he campaigned for the right thing, was a very arrogant person, who abused everyone around him, to the point few people went to his funeral.

Narratives focusing on one single hero are easy to sell and the ones building them are always on the lookout. Remember how ten years ago, a lot of people tried to push the narrative Elon Musk was going to create a new industrial revolution? Nowadays he’s just an arrogant loser who keeps dragging on his midlife crisis. The 1880s also had similar people like that, such as Thomas Edison.

Kristen Wright is definitely better than them both, because she is actually an engineering genius. But she’s also just like them, in the sense of unethical experiments, collusion with the military-industrial complex and being an overall superficially charismatic, but rotten to the core person. And she’s surrounded by a lot of people like Parvis and Ferdinand.

Breaking this line of reason, I have to say how much I hate Nietzsche’s ubermensch and master-slave morality, I hate Great Men theory, I hate Ayn Rand; these people are sheep who think themselves wolves. And before you say that Nietzsche didn’t consider himself an ubermensch, well, neither did Parvis and his reasoning was the same. For every person fancying themselves ubermensch, there’s a lot of those whom he’d call untermensch to clean up their messes. You have no idea of how times I stumbled upon people (especially libertarians) that advocate lower barriers to regulations that were written in blood, so that progress can happen quicker. Creative destruction works, as long as some people get “creative” and others clean the “destruction”. Deaths and injuries? Acceptable, just give them a pension (but fight tooth and nail in the court to not do it beyond the barest of the bare minimum, because it’ll lower the shareholder profit in 0.01%). Increase in inequality? Nobody will care in a few years, it’ll make everything cheaper anyway (look up Baumol’s cost disease to see how wrong that statement is, without being incorrect). I’m not exaggerating, sometimes the people saying that don’t even bother lacing it in politically correct language.

Because Lone Trail showed it “worked” – Kristen Wright broke off the ceiling over Terra and that will have consequences (especially with Endfield coming closer). The data from her experiments will advance science, the sight of a broken ceiling will inspire artists and prompt politicians to act. Was it worth it? Well, it will depend on who you ask (like, Ifrit or Rosmontis would have strong feelings), but it’s just there now. Serious history isn’t kind on this question as well – many technologies have a lot of transgressions, both legal and ethical, in their supply chain (both the American and Soviet space program come to my mind – guess who helped them); the difference between an entrepreneur and a criminal are contextual, because both are finding new opportunities of profit and both interlock frequently.

In the end, anyone can put an equation that has its uses, not mattering if it’s a good person or not. But that is no excuse to find good ethical practices. Silence saw everything with her own eyes and I’m really glad she’s leading the initiative for a more ethical science in Columbia – especially because people who are willing to break moral rules tend also to be willing to break research rules (this is why the “research” made in concentration camps is actually useless, it didn’t respect experimental rules). So I’m really glad for the Arknights writers for understanding these nuances and communicating them to the audience through one of the best stories of the game.

[octuscle]

Hey there! I work as a therapist and a few of us were starting to think of the clinical applications of chronivac. We were wondering if you wanted to work together to develop some presets that our clients could use to de-stress and take a break from their stressful lives. I know we have one stressed out university student who could benefit from something like this.

At Chronivac, we are always interested in collaborating with research institutions. After all, Chronivac is not used just to have fun. It is already being used for the treatment of various physical illnesses and also for resocialization projects. The use in the psychotherapeutic field would be new, but sounds interesting according to the research and development department. If the student they are talking about is available as a guinea pig, perhaps send us a requirements profile for a transformation. And we'll see what we can do….

Research Diary Timothy Walker

Day One: My psychotherapist tells me that my burn-out syndrome has progressed to the point that continuing my business studies is out of the question at this point. In fact, I am having a hard time concentrating. Writing this report is causing me great difficulty; my attention span is only a few minutes. Therefore, an experimental therapy has been decided with the psychology faculty, which is connected with a semester off for me. Under certain circumstances, the semester can be counted as an internship. Everything is fine with me. I am just tired. The work on the research diary was exhausting for me. I need to lie down.

Second day: I slept very well. No wild nightmares as usual. I woke up briefly once or twice at most, but went right back to sleep. Michael, who is in charge of the project as pysiotherapist, thinks that this would be a good starting point to work on my physical fitness. We both went running for an hour. I'm exhausted, I haven't moved that much since I started studying. But I feel good. Made myself a real breakfast for the first time in months according to my new nutrition plan. I'm supposed to spend the rest of the day walking on the beach. Let's see if that clears my head.

Third day: Before Michael came for the training session, I was already in the gym for an hour. I'm really enjoying the physical activity. The beach walk yesterday was great. And Michael was thrilled to see the progress I'm making in terms of fitness. Had the first session with my creativity coach today. Seems a little silly to me. But imagining what I would be doing if I weren't studying business was fun. But I have to admit, my head isn't really getting creative yet. At least writing the diary is already much easier for me.

Day four: I need new challenges. The beach run with Mike is fun, but it's not a sport. That's warming up. We discussed that I would go running alone for an hour tomorrow and that we would meet in the gym of the therapy center. I'm supposed to come without a T-shirt. Mike wants me to learn to love my body. To be honest, I already do. I've already jerked off twice today. And think about sex a lot more than usual. Mike also comes in the process. My creative trainer is also quite cute, but he's too skinny for me. I like men who have a lot of muscle on them.

Fifth day: Fuck, the workout with Mike is awesome! I love the gym from the first minute. Yes, the beach feels my home. But the gym is the place that prepares me for that home. Working out shirtless makes the workout even more intense. i can't get enough of Mike's and my sweat beading on our pecs. But I'm so horny. All the time. During the creative training with Kev it just bubbled out of me today. I would so love to be a lifeguard. Maybe not all the time. But on vacation. And on the weekends. The idea made me even hornier. Poor Kev. He's not my type, but I had to nail him during practice. No idea when I last had sex. but this first time in a long time was incredibly intense. Thank God Kev felt the same way….

Day six: Today is uh free day at da therapy center. Mike n kev are already down at da beach, I wanted to pump up da muscles beforehand. I'm looking forward to da sea n da sand. Both make my head so free. Although I wouldn't feel like my head wuz overly full right now anyway. Pumping, fucking, jogging n swimming. That's really all I'm thinking about right now. Kevin says that I certainly wouldn't have to worry about da practical entrance exams for lifeguards. But I shouldn't underestimate da theory. Shit, studying sucks. But I guess it haz to be.

Day seven: I like it when I have da early shift. Da routine of opening da station is relaxing, da beach is still quiet, da few guests are usually relaxed n in uh gud mood. Wuz one of da best ideas of my life to take uh semester off n work as uh lifeguard. My pal mikey told me to lay off this crappy journal. Somehow I thought it wuz important until now. I can't remember why, either. Anyway. Da main thing is that da surf is gud. Den you can have some fun with da surfers afta work. Hehehehe…

[luci-j]

Character Headcannons/Breakdown - Rook Raccoon

Okay, I'll be the first to admit this gets a little sad in some parts. I was going through it when I wrote this, what can I say?

* Her first name is supposed to invoke the chess piece. It's because she's basically used like little more than a game piece by Pyko and Gideon.

* Her last name is an homage to my dad's last name. He died unexpectedly while I was writing "Stand By Me", so I made her last name sound like his. Her taking Rocket’s last name at the end was a quiet way of me saying goodbye to him.

* She represents "found family" gone toxic. Each of the stories I do in this series is about love. "Flowers" is romantic love. "Star-Man" is the love that comes with loss. "Stand By Me" is about love and family. The Guardians are one of the best examples of found family that's done well in MCU, so I wanted to show what the inverse of that was.

* The school she goes to, Gideon university, is based off predatory colleges that were rampant during my college years. I had a friend over 150k in debt to a game design school with these practices.

* She's a sharklike alien because I really like sharks, you guys. Also I love Guillermo del Toro films, like most self-respecting weirdos and oddballs, and I think "The Shape of Water" is one of the finest love stories I've ever seen.... The more I examine my interests the less shocked I am that I ended up where I did.

* She's aro ace! The more I realized "oh. This isn't a one-off fanfic, this is going to be a personality trait of mine now" the more I wanted to be mindful of different representations. I also have a very longtime friend who is aro ace, and she keeps me really in touch with the fact there isn't a lot of rep out there. So it's a love letter to her as well.

* She's a professional V-tuber who goes under the name "Catfish".

* She's more of the software side of tech, whereas Rocket seems to favor hardware. I figured this would differentiate her skillset just enough that she'd be able to stand out as a unique character without too much overlapping skillsets from existing characters. This is something I try to be mindful of as well when creating OCs.

* Groot is one of her best friends and they do a lot of gaming together.

* Rocket DMs a game with them and a few of the other Guardians in it.

* She loves going all-in for holidays because her parents never really did.

* Her culture as a whole is very cold and very "get it yourself" from a VERY young age. Eggs take five years total to hatch and if the hatchlings struggle to get out of the egg, it's considered a sign that they aren't strong enough to survive in the outside world.

* There's a time where this would have been very relevant on their world, but modern progress has made this point moot. The harsh conditions of Icathia no longer exist, but the world has been slow to change from its harhness. Needing to rely on others is still seen as a moral failing.

* A lot of this culture comes from me remembering stories about friends getting kicked out at eighteen and being very, very angry that I was also eighteen at the time and couldn't do much to help them. Rook was my little way of being like "I'm sorry I couldn't do more to protect you. I was a kid too." I also saw a "fun craft idea" that was a "countdown" to when a kid turned 18 and would get kicked out of the house and if that didn't give me the BIGGEST anxiety attack to look at.

* Meti's first time going to jail was for Rook. He and Rocket were both arrested for brawling with her biological parents. <3

* Mara, her daughter, struggled to break out of her egg. Rook didn't think twice about helping her break out of it. She was going to break the cycle she came from

* It took her a LONG time to realize her parents and family loved her unconditionally. When she became a mother, it helped things really click for her

* She has Caldon's equivalent of a Masters in software engineering.

* Some of her favorite Earth music are things like City Pop and Future Funk. Also a huge Vocaloid fan

* Loves the beach and the water. If she isn't working she can be found hanging out by one of the ponds at the nature preserve

* She still struggles with her anxiety a LOT, but she's working towards getting better. She still didn't sleep for three days when Mara started school.

* She loves hanging out with Skye and helping her with some of her creative pursuits. This can include things like wiring LED lighting for costumes Skye makes.

* She lives in the apartment next door to Rocket and Meti. She makes enough for her own place, but she just loves being close to her family

* She's still puzzled/fascinated by mammals as a whole.

* She's always up for board game night

[socrat1cjunkiewannabe]

soo- we’re writers round here! we decided as a first post for our tumblr to showcase a sneak peak of some oneshot we’ve started up for our book over on ao3! (follow us at jimbomazza_taxi) and it’s for our “The 1975 oneshots” collection!

—

[How Can I Relate To You? — The 1975]

There was a shy kid, someone who hated to be in the main spotlight. Well, he didn’t hate being in some form of glory. It was the fact of being seen, the fact he could show more of his fuck ups if he were to do wrong, which feared this young guy. His name was Adam. His friends, Ross, George and Matty, they call him Hann.

But, he didn’t speak when he was first met with Matty. Matthew Healy the chatterbox, and Adam Hann the somewhat mute. Yeah, again it sounds like some weird universe, or fourth wall break to get these two in conversation. Well, it did take a few coaxes, and a few softer let downs for Adam’s frail mind to finally compute with Matty. Jokingly, Matty wrote a note passing it to Hann.

“How can I relate to someone who doesn’t speak?”

Hann receiving this crumpled piece of paper with the partly illegible jokey comment seems to frown a bit looking down at what Matty had put down, and would remain in silence for a bit longer, just contemplating what to write back. That’s where this block seemed to show, massively.

Matty was just crouched down opposite by this point, maybe on his phone. It was like he wasn’t aware the teachers would catch him, but Hann did have a somewhat cheeky jab in his note back to him, pushing it over with a nudge.

“We’re not all like you Matty, you just have a chatterbox for a mouth.. plus- the teachers will see your phone mate.”

Matty reads this, and places his phone down momentarily, although it was still open on some possible interface of an app, or maybe even his notes as he was known for scribing thoughts down on his phone. “Hann, you’re acting like my dad..” he’d chuckles, but was grinning with the joy at the joke pulled. “But yeah, I guess I’m a bit more extroverted. Probably ‘cos of me not really giving a damn what people see me for. Although, it’s usually class asshole.”

Hann just looks over, and although he didn’t really have a verbal answer for Matty, he did bear a warm smile, showing his teeth. He did feel that although him and Matty showed different in the personality front, that they may bond over the humouring side of things.. and that did open a door up.

“Hann, I do just want ya to know.. you can talk to me. You can talk to my mates too, Ross and George. Trust me, we’re not gonna be like dicks.” Matty seems to softly laugh, watching as green eyes had met to hazel, almost in a loving manner.

“To be fair, I’d like some friends with similar taste, since I’m just obsessed with guitars and seeing you love that too, it seems right.” Adam held the note in hand, lightly fidgeting with it but trying to explain back, and when Matty slowly started raising to his feet from the crouch on the floor, Hann’s gaze cast up again to Matty like martyr.

“C’mon, you’ll not regret it. It’ll be massive for you.” He adds, and that’s when the other was beginning to ascend to his feet as well and give a light smile, despite not being a vocal chirp. Again, a man of little words Hann.

Soon enough, let’s say what Matty noted was truth. By this time, they had just fired up a band, a dream that was shared by Matty’s friends Ross and George, and now by the new notice of Hann. The boys had been friends now for about two maybe three years, and safe to say what the now frontman of their dream career had voiced, sure enough had become true, and that always never failed to blow Hann’s mind every time it had struck him.

Performing at small places at first, Satan’s Hollow in Adam’s home of Manchester, then stretching out to Winslow in Cheshire for Ross’ birthplace.. London and then even eventually across the pond to Brussels where George resided before. The progression, always was important. And this time, during one of Adam’s moments of reminiscing, Ross came over.

“Hey Hann, you alright over there? Having a little daydream this morning?” His voice suffices with a little laughter, as he’d place a hand onto their guitarist’s shoulder, smiling. “You seem like you’re in a thinking state for sure.”

—

(that’s our progress so far! we also have two others already up to read, “In The Shade” and “It’s Not Living (If It’s Not With You)” if you’re interested!)

— also! we are planning to be writing more with the boys and their mates more often in works, but that’ll be in the future hopefully, so if you lot are fanatics im sure you’ll appreciate this :]

[beneathashadytree]

Hey!!! I'm so glad to be online at the time if your event. Congratulations on 1k followers, Maya!! Undeniably deserved❤️❤️ that being said, may I request a fluff with the prompts "You've kissed me like fifty times today." for Kujo Jotaro? Thank you so much in advance!

LOVESICK - JOTARO KUJO X READER

Warnings : lots of kissing, this is set after Jotaro graduated university so he's in his early/mid-twenties and living in Florida, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : domestic fluff

Word count : 0.9K words

Prompt : "You've kissed me like fifty times today."

Additional notes : Aaaa I'm so glad to have you back here!! Your Reiner requests used to make my day istg <33 Thank you so so much, I feel so flattered you think so 🥰🥰 I loved writing this, because God knows how much I'd love a domestic lifestyle with Jotaro holy shit---anyways, I hope you like this!!

Check out my 1K+ Followers Event if you want to request!

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

Jotaro Kujo was a man of very few words. Though he'd become more expressive over the years as time had progressed and his closed-off attitude had matured into being just a reserved nature, he still remained as selective as ever with the words he had to say. And in order to compensate for his minimal vocal expression, he was perceptive as all hell, taking note of every single thing happening around him, and noticing even the slightest of changes.

Needless to say, he'd picked up on the fact that his darling was being particularly affectionate today. Even while bleary-eyed, they'd crawled over him on the bed to kiss his forehead gently, before moving on to cupping his face and kissing both his cheeks, and leaving a final peck to his lips. When he'd woken up soon after, they'd made sure to hook their arms around his neck and pull him into three not-so-chaste kisses before heading off to work.

And the very moment Jotaro had stepped back into the hallway of their Florida house, they'd tugged at him and kissed him something fierce, squeezing his hand fondly and kissing the nape of his neck over and over again as they took his coat. Even over dinner, they'd kissed him before, during, and after digging in, each time softer---almost mindless even---than the first. He could only call it baffling; the way that they momentarily clutched onto him as he sifted through research papers, kissing his temple twice before quietly bringing him coffee and a bowl of snacks reserved for their "cheat breaks" as they worked.

He'd tried to search his mind for any possible reasons behind this behavior; any anniversaries he'd missed, any life events that could've happened, or any event he'd be forced to attend that they were buttering him up for. His mind came up blank (not that anything would ever slip past him unnotice; he had an uncanny ability to never forget things), and so he just let them be.

Come nighttime, once Jotaro was settled on the couch with a warm drink and the TV remote in hand for some winding down with his lover, they'd turned to him with a tender smile on their face, almost gentle as their hand reached up to stroke his cheek and kiss him so achingly sweet it had his heart thumping wildly for no apparent reason.

With an arch of his brow, he finally couldn't help but comment on their overzealous displays of affection, "You've kissed me like fifty times today. Any particular reason?"

"What, should I write up a petition to kiss you now?" they snorted, before snuggling into his chest, "Just stop being a blanket hog, it's mid-winter."

Tucking the fleece blanket up to their chin, he shook his head, "You do the same damn thing in bed, don't complain," he eyed them carefully once again, "You're not usually this... eager."

With a shrug, they simply said, "At the after-work party yesterday, my co-workers told me that I should kiss you every time I thought you looked handsome," chuckling, they closed their eyes and rested their head against his sturdy shoulder, "Said it would show just how lovesick I am, if it's more than fifteen times a day. Looks like I owe each of them five bucks."

Unbeknownst to them, the man in question was sitting stiffly, cheeks burning red and with no way to hid his blush, seeing as he'd set his hat down on the coffee table.

"Good grief," he sighed, though there was no hint of annoyance in his voice (if they strained their ears, they could probably even hear adoration laced in his words, and the irregular beating of his heart at their saccharine bluntness), "You're incorrigible."

Peeking up at him, they grinned at the sight of their normally-stoic darling so flustered, the corners of his lips subconsciously turned up in a half-smile.

It's not like he'd never been called handsome before; Jotaro had always been complimented and sought after for his looks, to the point of it being overbearing. With his shocking green eyes, sharply defined features, dark curls, tanned complexion, his well-built physique, and his overwhelming height, people had always flocked towards the man, fawning over his every move.

However, being kissed so much simply because they found him so attractive struck something in his heart that had him blushing to the tips of his ears. Maybe because it was them thinking that of him that made the compliment mean twice as much to him; someone he loved so dearly thinking he looked that handsome even when he was exhausted and overworked to the bone. It was equal parts flattering and embarrassing, honestly.

"You love me though," they kissed him yet again, slowly this time, still smiling against his soft lips as he kissed them back sweetly, and cleverly choosing not to comment on his rare flustered state so as not to cause him to pull away from their blissfully warm cuddling, while some movie started playing in the background---a poor attempt at him covering up his embarrassment by diverting their attention from him.

"Unfortunately, yeah."

Taglist: @mrsgiovanna @blondeboyfriend @boorishbrambling

[inkedstarlight]

admission of attraction

Summary: Elain’s had a crush on Azriel since they met, and everyone (except Azriel himself) seems to know it. So when he’s tasked with training her, it feels like the universe has a personal vendetta against her. One rainy day during a session, they’re not making any progress, but Azriel won’t let up, and things get... heated. Notes: This is a steamy one-shot, but I’m thinking I might write a second part to it (just because I love writing Elriel so much). Let me know if you’d be interested in that!

“Again.”

“No.”

“Again.”

Elain glared at Azriel as best she could through half-lidded eyes, her body so drained that it felt like her knees were going to collapse at any moment. The urge to stomp her foot on the damp ground, to let out a scream of rage, was near blinding. She knew better than to think he would give her a break, though.

It was Feyre’s idea. After Nesta went through her training with Cassian to understand the depths of her power, Elain couldn’t help but wonder about her own gifts. No one knew the true extent of them, not even Elain. Every time she tried to climb down that endless well deep within herself, she was stopped by an impenetrable wall made of shadows and steel and thorns. She used to spend hours upon hours in her quarters mentally shoving and clawing at the wall, only to end up passing out on the wooden floors from exhaustion. No matter what she did, she could never make it past.

It was infuriating.

So, Feyre suggested that Azriel lead Elain through her own training, a proposal that Elain quickly shot down. There was no way she would subject herself to so much time with Azriel. Alone. Together. With him. How the fuck was she supposed to spend hours at a time with him if she couldn’t even be in the same room as him for more than fifteen seconds without her cheeks bursting up into flames? It would be utter torture.

In response to her younger sister’s insistence, Elain lied and informed Feyre that she wasn’t ready to train yet. But she was about a good a liar as Nesta was a friendly neighbor.

Elain’s protests fell silent though, because apparently Azriel had already agreed to be her trainer. She had no idea why; surely the spymaster of the Night Court had better things to do than play tutor to his High Lady’s Made sister. Surely, he would allocate the lowly task to someone who holds less responsibility.

Azriel proved Elain wrong. They’d begun training in November.

It was nearing March.

“Elain.”

Gods, even his voice sent shivers down her body. It was made of velvet and honey, his tongue caressing the syllables of her name as if he was gently cradling her face with his scarred hands.

She pulled herself from her stupor and back to the training ring. Back to the rain that poured down on them, the stunning man who stood like he could both save her and destroy her.

“Can we just be done for today?” Elain pleaded with him. Her eyelashes were thick with raindrops. She wasn’t one to quit so easily, but they hadn’t made a lick of progress since they began that morning. Azriel knew it, but next to nothing would stop him from calling a session short. He was determined to get Elain to reach her power’s potential, if not just to rid of her and resume his more important duties. “We’ve already been out here for hours, and the rain is soaking through my clothes.”

A pathetic excuse, but it was true. Her cropped athletic top stuck to her heaving chest like second skin, embarrassingly accentuating the shape of her nipples through the thin material. She just hoped he hadn’t noticed.

His eyes burned into hers. They were standing five feet apart, but she swore she could see a flash of heat in them.

“Again.”

Argh! Gods-damn him.

She had never had a short temper, not as a child nor an adult. Luckily, that gene skipped her and went right to Nesta. In fact, Elain hated the feeling of anger; it was uncontrollable, unpredictable. It made people act like someone else entirely. She’d always suppressed it whenever it bubbled to the surface, determined to remain calm. But Azriel… he was the only one who could pull that anger out of her.

She hated it.

But she reluctantly followed his instruction and tried again. Elain knew what happened when she tried to walk away from training, and she didn’t have the energy for Azriel’s droning lectures today. He could really be a bore when he tried hard enough.

Elain looked within herself, put up a mental shield as high as she could build and gave Azriel a slight nod of her head. Go.

In an instant, she felt his shadows approach her ever-so-gently. The whorls of darkness slid up her walls, sending shivers down her body. Her hold on the wall faltered, its strength cracking, but Elain strained her mind to quickly realigned herself, her walls restored. That was Azriel’s strategy; he wasn’t ruthless or foreign like she’d first expected. No, he manipulated his magic to coax his way past Elain’s walls, attempting to deceive them into thinking he was welcome, that he belonged there.

With her wall strong again, he tried a different angle. His shadows danced along her shoulders, making their way up the small expanse of her neck. Elain breathed deeply through her mouth, in and out. He didn’t usually move his shadows in this way; they never really touched her like they were now. Goosebumps formed all over her body as his shadows twirled their way around her golden hair, playing with it to break down her defenses. Her stance wide, feet dug into the ground, she remained as still as possible. The shadows moved to her cheek, caressing her soft skin, and damn if she didn’t lean into its touch.

A familiar rough chuckle echoed in her head. It seems Azriel wasn’t unaware of the effect he had on her.

But before she could even blink, his shadows suddenly slithered down her body, in between her breasts and past her navel until they were⸻

Oh, Gods.

Elain’s head snapped up to meet Azriel’s gaze. His lips were turned up in a dark smirk.

His shadows were between her thighs. Hovering right over the place she’d endlessly dreamt his tongue would lap at her until she was writhing in pain and pleasure.

Her core pulsed once, and Elain’s hands clenched into tight fists, her knuckles white as baby blossoms.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she seethed, desperately trying to hide the pleasure in her voice. The curse that left her lips shocked her. She wasn’t one to use filthy language, unlike some people in the Inner Circle.

“What you’ve been wanting me to do since the moment we met,” he murmured, amusement gleaming in his hazel eyes.

That was when she paused, realization hitting her. He was making fun of her. Of course, he was. He knew she liked him, and he was teasing her.

Elain fumed, outraged by the audacity the male had. He thought this was funny. Oh, she’d show him funny.

Quickly closing the distance between them in a few short strides, Elain shoved his chest once with all her might.

Azriel didn’t move an inch.

Elain let out a strangled cry. She was glaring up at him, his lips twitching as if he were holding back one of those insufferable smirks, that smug son of a bitch.

“Something wrong, dove?”

Dove. She loved when he called her that.

Fuck him.

She was done being teased. Nearly everyone at the House of Wind knew about her crush on Azriel, and they weren’t above prodding her about it, particularly Cassian and Nesta. It wasn’t as if Elain wanted everyone to know; she’d done her best to hide it, but whenever she tried to force a lie out of her mouth, her left eye would twitch as if a bug had flown straight into it. She’d made Cassian and Nesta – the only two who had the balls to admit they knew about her schoolgirl crush – promise not to tell Azriel, which they’d respected as far as she knew. But there was nothing she could do if Azriel figured it out by himself, especially considering how gods-damn observant he was.

Elain pushed him again. “Don’t you dare⸻” another shove “⸻make fun of me!”

She tried to shove him once more, but this time he grabbed her wrists in his hands and pulled her toward him until they were standing flush against each other.

His eyes scanned her face intensely. “Make fun of you?”

Elain took a deep breath and held her head high like she’d seen Nesta do a million times, mostly when Cassian was trying to get a rise out of her. It was dignified, almost queenlike. Certainly not stooping to the level of peasants where the males in this house liked to play.

“You heard me.”

Azriel recoiled slightly as if she’d offended him. His entire demeanor changed, something akin to disappointment setting his lips into a grim line. Her wrists remained trapped by his large hands. She liked the way his callouses on his palm felt against her soft skin.

“You think I’m making fun of you?” he repeated for clarification, nostrils flaring.

“I know you are,” she spat back. His jaw clenched tightly.

“And pray tell, Elain, what am I making fun of you for?”

“F-for…” Fuck, what was she supposed to say? For having a crush on you? For staring at you every time you enter the room? For making me want to kiss you until neither of us can breathe? It would be an admission of guilt. An admission of attraction. “Uh…”

Azriel watched her struggle for words, a smirk growing on those full lips. He’d trapped her. And now she was prey that’d fallen right into his hands.

Elain was still pink and stammering when he released her wrists and took a step back. His warmth gone, she stood shivering in the rain.

“For wanting me to fuck you,” he said roughly. “That’s what you’re trying to say, dove. You want me to fuck you.”

Elain’s mouth dropped open. She thought she liked hearing Azriel say her name, but this was something else entirely.

“No.” She whispered it half-heartedly; she couldn’t even pretend to be outraged by what he’d said.

“Yes,” he murmured back encouragingly. She felt his shadows radiating heat from behind her.

“Now ask me,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me why I was making fun of you.”

She was too weak to deny his request. “Why were you making fun of me?”

Azriel grabbed her waist and pulled her into him roughly, closing the distance as quickly as he’d created it. His hot lips were against her ear.

“I wasn’t making fun of you, dove,” he started quietly, his nose catching a whiff of her flowery scent. He suppressed a groan. “Want to know why I did what I did with my shadows?”

Elain whimpered pathetically and nodded. She felt his lips curve up into a small smile against the shell of her ear as if he enjoyed when she was helpless.

“I did that,” he said gruffly, “because I have wanted to taste how sweet you are since I laid eyes on you. Because I dream about fucking you every night and wake up in the morning hard for you. Because I know what a good girl you’ll be for me and only me.”

Azriel pulled away so their faces were just an inch apart, still holding on to her because if he didn’t, Elain would surely collapse to the ground. Every nerve in her body was on fire as he looked down at her with hungry eyes. He pressed a kiss against her forehead, and then he took a couple paces back. She was close to getting on her knees and pleading him to touch her again.

Elain was still processing what he’d said when he looked at her with a satisfied expression, as if he liked what he saw. It was purely male.

“Again.”

[felassan]

Article: ‘Mass Effect 3 Could Have Had A Completely Different Ending’

The Mass Effect 3 ending has been a controversial subject for nine years. As it turns out, it could have been completely different.

This article is part of TheGamer’s Mass Effect week. 

Highlights:

This [the RGB endings] wasn’t always the case. According to Mass Effect 3 writer Chris Hepler, the end of Shepard’s story could have been radically different. 

Hepler started working on Mass Effect right at the beginning. Although he wasn’t formally part of the team yet, he did additional design, chipped in for playtesting, and offered a fair amount of writing feedback during development of the first game. He had a much more active role on Mass Effect 2, writing the Codex entries, the Galaxy Map, and spearheading the Cerberus Daily News initiative. By the time Mass Effect 3 rolled around, Hepler was writing EDI, Thane, Citadel missions, and was generally considered to be the project’s “loremaster.”

“The ending relies on space magic, and the lead writer, lead gameplay designer, and executive producer all just embraced that and owned it from the get-go,” Hepler tells me. “‘Any sufficiently advanced technology’ and all that. They wanted and got a really big decision that affects the whole galaxy. If you give it a moment's thought, none of the three options are perfectly moral or the ‘right’ answer for everyone. Destroy may not solve the problem of AI and organics; Control rewards the Reapers; even Synthesis, which is harder to get than the other two and sounds like it'd be permanent peace, basically violates the entire galaxy's bodily autonomy without consent. So that part, I think, works.

“Did it satisfy the fans? Hell, no, not at first, and I found a lot of the criticism to be legitimate. The Extended Cut gave us a second chance to make an ending that acknowledged many more of the players' choices, and was about as good as we could reasonably make given the decisions we'd already made. I felt a lot better about myself and us as a team after the EC came out.”

Hepler explains that fans had observed several hints throughout the trilogy that pointed in completely different directions. For example, there are aspects of the lore that actually lean towards the Citadel species allying with the Reapers in order to collectively tackle a dark energy anomaly, as opposed to the Reapers remaining as the Big Bad right up until credits roll. Hepler confirms that there are explicit lore details that lean into this idea, but that he never personally heard about capitalizing on them. Remember, this is coming from the Mass Effect loremaster - if he says there is lore to back up a dark energy anomaly that only the Reapers can save us from, it certainly exists.

“Now, what would I have done?” Hepler asks. “I wouldn't have done space magic at all. I planned to write three Codex entries on the Crucible rather than one, reflecting on what scientists think it is at first, what it appears to be once construction has really made progress, and a third detailing how it will kill the Reapers, readable right before you return to Earth.”

Hepler explains that he wanted to take inspiration from Nancy Kress’ novel, Probability Moon, in order to have the Crucible use a strong nuclear force as a weapon. Kress’ superweapon is designed to create a massive burst of energy that is completely harmless for objects that have a low atomic weight, like organic flesh made of carbon chains. This means that the vast majority of Citadel species would be virtually unaffected by a blast from this weapon.

Objects with a much higher atomic number, however, would be annihilated by the beam. This weapon is constructed in such a way that it emits life-killing radiation for anything made up of heavy metals. “So cybernetic creatures like the Reapers and husks would have their organic parts fried because they're right next to the heavy metals, but the organic creatures a safe distance away, like a civilian population, would be just fine,” Hepler says.

“The rebuilt Shepard, who had a fair bit of cybernetics, would die heroically, but that was always likely to be on the cards. In talking with Ann Lemay, another writer on the project, we theorized that the metal most likely to be the atomic weight cut-off-point was niobium, which today is used in piercings and surgical implants because it doesn't rust and you can embed it in flesh without ill effects. It's even blue when exposed to oxygen, like the glowing blue husks we've been fighting since [the first] Mass Effect. So it would make sense as a building block for the Reapers and their ultimate weakness.”

So, what happened? Unfortunately, Hepler never got to pitch his ending. The design leads moved lightning quick with their Destroy/Control/Synthesis trifecta, to the point that the whole premise had been approved before Hepler even got around to finishing his second Codex entry. As a result, he hadn’t got a full description of how this pertained to the entire galaxy yet - although looking at it now, it could have borrowed from the best bits of each ending. The Reapers would be neutralized, but the tech would be there. Given that Mass Effect is largely about the coexistence of humans and cybernetic creatures, it would also have had an impact on other aspects of the universe - what would happen to EDI?

“I [also] had some concern that Nancy Kress might notice and sue us if I didn't do my homework,” Hepler says. “And there was no time to do that homework, which would be me telling all the leads to hold off for a week while I exchanged a crap-ton of emails with my subject matter experts. ‘Sufficiently advanced technology indistinguishable from magic’ was far easier and had much more project momentum. “I recycled some of the strong-force-as-a-weapon tech into the Reaper infantry weapon, the Blackstar. In retrospect, I wish I'd spoken up more, or thought it all out faster, but them's the breaks.”

As well as Hepler’s own ending - which obviously never made it into the final game, despite sounding as if it had a lot more hard science behind it - Hepler is a big fan of the popular Indoctrination Theory. However, he was pretty open about the fact that this wasn’t something BioWare consciously designed.

“The Indoctrination Theory is a really interesting theory, but it's entirely created by the fans,” Hepler says. “While we made some of the ending a little trippy because Shepard is a breath away from dying and it's entirely possible there's some subconscious power to the kid's words, we never had the sort of meetings you'd need to have to properly seed it through the game.

“We weren't that smart. By all means, make mods and write fanfic about it, and enjoy whatever floats your boat, because it's a cool way to interpret the game. But it wasn't our intention. We didn't write that.”

[source]

[flames-tstuff]

I had the most delightful, fanfic-esque scenario play out before me today.

Unnecessarily long (but wholesome) story time below the cut!

I want to tell you all about this relatively new friend of mine (we've been friends for maybe 4-6 months now), whom I love dearly /p. The story is sort of in two parts; the background context, and then the actual story that happened today.

Background/Context

This kid appears to look like your stereotypical "fuckboy", right? Smooth, calm, collected demeanor. Well-dressed. A bit androgynous. Long, well-maintained hair. A pretty boy. I originally think to myself, “Huh, he’s kinda pretty(?) Uh oh. That can’t be good." Basically, I assume this dude is a douche-bag, because, well, your brain learns to recognize patterns, right? I've learned that conventionally attractive people typically only interact with me if they want something (cynical, I know).

Fast forward a few months and I find that I actually enjoy talking to him, and that he enjoys talking to me. Me—someone who mostly presents feminine (when I assumed him to be somewhat misogynistic) and is awkward as hell. He looks at me and speaks to me like I’m a real person..? Like he’s not just tolerating my presence and actually enjoys interacting with me. Like I'm "one of the guys", an equal. Pretty much any cishet guy I’ve ever met looks and talks to me like I’m an inconvenien. So the fact that he wasn't acting that way should have been the first sign that he's not at all what I had assumed.

A few months in when he feels comfortable enough, he tells me he’s been transitioning MTF(*) in secret for some time now. And it makes perfect sense. That’s why he had a pretty, feminine face. That’s why he had his hair grown out long. When I told him that no cishet guy has EVER been that kind to me, he said it was probably the estrogen lol.

*(Everyone who ~knows~ calls him by his given name and pronouns, just to be safe. We go to a religion-based school in a state that isn't very progressive or safe. I’ve only ever heard his girlfriend, who I also love and adore, use she/her in private, and even then it’s rare. So until I’m given explicit permission to openly use feminine pronouns, we’re all playing it safe by sticking with he/him.)

I’ve always been a mom friend, but I'm telling you this person is bringing out the “they must be protected at all costs” in me. The person who I thought was this smooth, sauve, chill dude (think Buck Dewey from Steven Universe lol) is actually just a scared, insecure little girl behind the curtains. A young adult who, because of the hormones, is basically going through Second Puberty™, angst and all. Someone who hid behind his guitar during a jam session because he was afraid someone would notice his developing chest. The friend who surprised me when I looked over and saw him crying during the animated film we were watching in the theater.

Guys, this is like my own real-life Zuko or Nico friend. The character in fiction that you just wanna shower with comfort and reassurance and warmth (but you can't, so you do so through writing and art). The friend you see almost as a younger sibling, that you feel compelled to protect. The one that you wanna hug and tell them that everything will be alright. This is all in my head of course, I don't want to risk accidentally smothering, patronizing, or otherwise scaring him away. But I feel honored any time I get the chance to see his walls come down even a little.

So because he’s got this particular demeanor about him, I was thinking to myself how much I want to see what would happen if someone were to... break down those walls a bit (yeah, you know what I'm talking about lol). Like really truly see past the facade he puts up every day. Because the thing is, I’ve seen him express and react just like everyone else. Happy, sad, angry—I’ve even seen him get playful before, but it’s always at about the same even level of reaction. I want to see him finally "crack", you know? What I would give to see him lose his cool and drop all pretenses, to see him be lovingly destroyed.

And oh how this sets up like the premise of a fanfic, am I right?

Unfortunately we’re not yet close enough to have crossed the barrier of physical contact (he doesn’t seem like the touchy type anyway), so it definitely would have to be coming from his girlfriend. Even if it did happen, the chances of me getting to witness it are low. I assume his girlfriend probably respects him enough not to embarrass him too much in front of others. Still, one can dream 😆

I wait for the day when the subject of being ticklish comes up (bc there ain't NO way this ball of hidden angst isn’t ticklish), someone teases him about it, and chaos ensues.

Today.

(aka the actual story, the reason for making this post)

Spoiler alert: No tickly shenanigans take place, unfortunately, but it's just about as good in my book :)

There were five of us friends (since when did I get a group of friends to hang out with??) piled into his car. I can’t remember exactly what happened, I think his girlfriend changed something about the radio, and lo and behold IT HAPPENED. He cracked!... even if just a tiny bit, hehe. It wasn’t an angry outburst in like a concerning, toxic way, but he was like “Ah, c’mon why’d you do that??” more akin to a whiny twelve-year-old who's parents unplugged their TV to get them to go to bed. It was funny and endearing more than anything, like watching an old married couple fight. We all snickered a bit at the sight, and I saw my opportunity to tease him a little.

I said something along the lines of “you know, for someone who has such a calm and collected demeanor, I absolutely love when I get to see you lose your cool. I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course. It’s just the best". He said that he didn’t think he gave off that kind of vibe, but he appreciated that that's how I see him 😆

Then, a few minutes later we were in the drive-through line getting sodas at McD’s. One of the friends in the car with us says idk, maybe two words, and he LOSES it (you know how inside jokes with friends are). Like, full-on busts up, flops against the wheel wheezing, which eventually turns into loud genuine laughter. Now I completely lose it, doubling over and burying my face in my lap laughing, but not because of the joke (cue the sappy music). The sudden, uncontrollable bout of laughter coming from him was so unexpected and so contagioius... It was one of the best sounds I’d heard in a long time! I was basically cry-laughing at that point. There were actual tears in my eyes that I had to wipe away. It all sounds so cliché but it really was an incredible sight to behold, and, in a roundabout sort of way, my dream came true.

So yeah. I just wanna hug him and fawn over him like a mom or an auntie. Poke him, help him loosen up a little. We’re not quite at that level of friendship where that would be well received I think, but maybe someday. Yeah, someday.

[photoniccyclone]

SFR Update: Holidays mean Progress! (Probably, maybe)

Hello! It’s been a while since I updated you on SFR progress and that’s largely because for a long period I wasn’t really able to make that much. The weeks that I’ve been gone as well as after I came back have been extremely busy and I had to dedicate my full attention to the task at hand *cough cough* school. You think Sol Regem’s empire in SFR is bad??? pssshhh, please... he has nothing on college.  That’s over for now though, and now I have some weeks of complete free time. I’m hoping I can make at least significant progress during this period. Whether I can write and finish a chapter during this is up in the air and I’m not gonna make any sort of estimations because I know from the past *cough cough* chapters 4 and 5, how well I managed to stick to those. I am hoping to at least take some steps forward though.  Now, this is an *update* so I will tell you about some of the progress I’ve made since the last time I updated you because believe it or not there has actually been some (shocker, Photonic does a thing, unimaginable right?).  Since the last update I have 

--> Jotted down enough notes to form a *very rough* outline of how I want the first arc of this story to progress. Again, this is *extremely rough* so there’s still a lot of blank spaces and a lot of it is throwing ideas around but I came up some pretty cool ideas during this process that I didn’t have before so it was definitely worth while I feel. I just had that feel of *Yeeesssssss* when writing those down. --> I’ve also started working on a general timeline. The Notes I jotted down before were not really in any sequential order, they were more me spewing ideas about what events certain characters or groups of characters could experience as the story progresses. This is where I am now. I was able to start work on this timeline come my break so I have only really been able to jot down the first couple of days after chapter 5 leaves off, but it is definitely starting to come along. I’m also coming up with new ideas to fill the blank spaces during this process.  Currently I feel have enough notes to get a pretty good idea of what I want to include in chapter 6, I don’t think I’ll start on that immediately as I definitely wanna get some other things down before that. I also have some idea of what’s gonna come in future chapters after 6 though this is a lot looser and open to change at the moment. One scene in particular was originally going to be in chapter 6 but may be pushed back to a later chapter giving that I realized the timing probably won’t work out if I put that scene in 6. Actually kinda been a theme of a lot of things in this story, A lot of things getting pushed back as this story expands in scale. 

You heard me mention the first arc of the story above. Currently the way I have SFR planned is that the story could essentially be split into two major arcs. I can’t reveal too much yet but the first arc, the one we’re currently in, will definitely be the more angsty all around of the two. The second arc will likely shift into a more action focus, (though, it will definitely still have it’s angst, in fact, currently I have the darkest scene in SFR (at least in my opinion) planned for this second arc. But the angst occurrences in general will be more spaced out I feel). Arc 2 is still a *while* away tho so best concentrate on the here and now. 

So, that’s really all I have to say for today. If you read this far, thank you for listening to me ramble in text form when I *should* be using this time to work on the dang timeline haha. And thank you for all the support you all have left on the fic so far. Seeing your kudos and reading your comments as well as just your overall reactions, whether inside ao3 or not, as you all experience the story I’m writing... it really means the world to me knowing people care about this dumb universe I’m building with characters that don’t even belong to me.  And if you’ve never heard of SFR before but are interested in this TDP A.U. now, then you can read the existing five chapters using the link below. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30491499/chapters/75193263

As always don’t hesitate to tell me what you think!

And remember, just because it’s the holidays... do you think Sol Regem cares? No he’s not giving you all time off for the holidays! This is his kingdom now and you play by his rules! Get back to work ya filthy humans!  (No, but seriously, Happy Holidays everyone! Regardless of whether you celebrate any of them or not, I hope you have a great time as we move into the new era of 23!) 

[fandom-monium]

I JUST READ KITCHEN CATASTROPHES OMG ITS SOOO CUTE UGH MY HEART SO SOFT CAN YOU PLSSS DO A PART 2? THANK YOU KEEP DOING WHAT YOU DO

AN: thank you, anon! i dont plan to make a sequel to KC. But if i did:

For Valentine’s Day

Summary: In which you throw a wrench in Spencer’s plans: you don’t like Valentine’s Day. “If it’s with you, I guess it’s not so bad.”

WC: 2.9k (whoops)

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, semi anti-valentines day, Spencer tears up but dont worry were there to fix that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, post-For the Holidays

Fuck cooking, Spencer thinks one day.

It's an irrational thought. The kind that strikes through his mind in a flash of irritation like a scrape of the knee as he is perusing the internet. Yes, he is using a computer willingly. He has to because he's desperate.

Cooking is stupid. Who really needs it, right?

…

He needs it. God, he needs it so bad.

His need to learn cooking wasn't as incessant until recently. Until you came along.

Spencer is a meticulous person and a romantic if you'd ever met one. Makes sense considering how he grew up, reading the classics and all that. He's read all the gooey literary shit old people write and while he never understood those meanings it all dawned on him one day. Quotes written like 'the stars in their eyes' and 'sunshine glowing off them like a halo', suddenly makes sense once he meets you. Or at least, after coming to know you, months into your newfound friendship.

It's because of this he plans accordingly the weeks leading up to Valentine's day! Because again he's meticulous and a romantic and a genius so he plans every step and makes a back up plan in case A, B, and C fall through.

Is he going overboard? 

… Nah. No way. Not when it comes to you.

But fuck with a capital F, man.

It's your third date. Or what is supposed to be your third date if you would just stop being you for a second.

Then again, he loves you a lot and he wouldn't love you if you weren't, well, you.

Although—pardon his french—what the fuck. 

Spencer knows he needs to learn to cook. You've tried plenty of times to teach him and he loves learning and he especially loves it when you are the teacher (wait, does he have a teacher/student fantasy? Maybe. That’s something he'll look into later. Preferably with you). 

Unfortunately, he's terrible at it.

He's made progress and he knows it's true because you said so but the miniscule progress he's made is. Not. Enough. And it's all your fault! Because he gets so distracted by you during your lessons, like when you put your hands over his to show him proper slicing techniques—holy fuck, he wanted to combust right there—or just watching your deft hands at work, lips and brow scrunched in concentration in that adorable way. And you smell like cooking oil or whatever you're making and you're hot.

He's so into you it physically hurts. Ugh. How is he so lucky? 

You're also the first person he's been this into since Maeve. And everyone knows how well that turned out.

So he tries to dial it down for Valentine’s Day. Morgan told him once he tends to throw himself into everything he does, including love. And when you two got together, he promised the universe he will not fuck this up. He ends up combining Morgan’s advice with Luke’s, trying to be casual like Luke says because apparently you're just as into him as he is of you. 

The thought makes him grin uncontrollably. Luke says it makes him look like a clown but a lovesick clown. A lovefool, Luke hehs.

Spencer doesn’t get the joke, but it does nothing to deter him.

As Luke advised, Spencer does “not” make a dozen back up plans and does “not" plan weeks in advance. Because that wouldn't be casual, would it?

But now the day’s come and as Valentine’s Day turns to Valentine’s Night, Spencer wants to pull his hair, rub his frustratedly stinging eyes but he can't because he's in the middle of work, in the middle of the bullpen, in the middle of his desk and he refuses to be that guy. Not again.

Why does he feel like sobbing? Like a loser? 

Because you don't like Valentine’s Day. No, you abhor it.

It happens in the middle of the work day. It's like he tried to open a door only for a bucket of ice water to be dumped on him and now he looks like a drowned rat. He definitely feels like one.

You're talking with Garcia about her Valentine’s Day plans as you multitask, switching between putting together packets and stacking them aside. Then taking them under the hole-puncher and stapling them together because the BAU isn't all kicking down doors and catching freaks. 

It makes sense that you’re chatting with Garcia during your break. The two of you have become two peas in a pod after you came out of your shell. Now you're inseparable. Only you make Garcia leave her batcave as much as she does now.

Out of sight, he catches tidbits of your conversation when he hears distinctively: Fuck Valentine’s Day.

Okay, you didn't say that verbatim but you might as well have, grimacing as you three hole-punch a packet and his heart. Then a nail on his coffin only it’s with a stapler. 

Thump. Chick.

Spencer winces; there goes your his Valentine’s Day plans. 

It shouldn't sting as much as it does. You've been dating for over a month and Valentine’s Day is definitely not his favorite holiday either. It's not even top 3. And as you rant he can’t help but silently nod in agreement, all the facts straight: yes, it's an eyesore. Yes, it's a capitalistic holiday. Yes, people should do nice things for their significant others no matter the time and not because it's expected on a specific day. Yes, it doesn't compare to Halloween—

The thing is, you two aren't that “couple-y”, at least in a traditional sense. Not like Will and JJ who got a babysitter so they could go out or like Luke and Garcia as they plan to go to a special Valentine’s Day event she wants to check out (she vehemently denies anything going on between them but he doesn't need to be a genius to see the affection they have for one another. Just kiss already, damn).

So yeah, Spencer hoped to spend the romantic holiday with you. For once, he'd have Valentine’s Day plans, aside from exchanging cards with the team and his mother.

But apparently you hate Valentine’s Day! So there goes plan A, B, C, and D!

Spencer feels the tears spring at the corner of his eyes. He sniffs as subtly as he can, raising an open case file to his face. Of all the plans he hadn't thought through this was not one of them. IQ 187, his ass.

He should've known. Or at least ask your thoughts on Valentine’s Day. That was inconsiderate on his part. He blinks back tears, withdrawing into himself despite his hurt because he is a lovefool and only for you. He just wants to impress you, make you happy even if that means canceling your first Valentine’s Day together.

Now if you'll excuse him, he has to call off a few reservations and make some returns. Several actually.

Can you return a dozen donuts in the shape of hearts?

… Yeah, he better ask Emily for the rest of the day off.

—

"Hey Newb, have you seen Spencer? I haven't seen him since his break," You ask, resting your chin in your hand as you squint at another form. Your eyes are beginning to tire. 

Spencer asked you several times over the course of the last week, checking to see if you were free today. You are, so you planned to hang with him after work, but he hasn't returned from his break and he wasn't answering your calls or texts. Not unusual but still odd for your boyfriend (you still can’t believe you get to say that).

Luke sighs, his smooth voice reaching over your shared divider, "You know at some point I'm just not going to respond. You guys can’t call me Newbie forever."

"Keep telling yourself that," You snort without looking up.

Another sigh and you smirk: you win.

"For your information," Luke grumbles, words punctuated with sass, "Doc went home."

You pause. "Home?" He didn't tell you.

"Yeah, probably to get ready for your date."

"Our date?" You frown and stand up, leaning over the divider to see if Luke’s fucking with you.

He isn't. Luke shrugs, humming wistfully as he rests his cheek in his hand, "You should've seen how excited he was, being it your first Valentine's Day and all. I told him to chill out because you'll love whatever it is no matter what but I'm sure he ignored that and planned something spectacular for you guys." Sitting back, he twirls around in his chair.

You grimace, recalling your earlier conversation with Garcia. 

Shit.

"Meanwhile, I have to spend Galentine's Day with Garcia because all the ladies of the BAU are taken and I have nothing better to do—" Luke comes to a full 720, catching the tail end of your coat as you whip it on and make for the door. "—um, excuse you?"

"If Emily asks, I had an emergency!" You manage to call back, throwing open the glass door.

"Okay?"

"Thanks, Newb!"

As the elevator door dings shut with you inside, leg jumping because you have a sneaking suspicion you fucked up, Luke slouches in his chair and grumbles.

He's not a newb. Or a newbie.

—

You rush over to Spencer's, catching your breath as you stumble to his front door. There's shuffling from inside, the faint sound of clanking and crashing and your heart swells because this is the man you’ve fallen for, the first one you've ever felt this way for. Here he is, being all considerate and romantic. And here you are, fucking it up when your relationship’s barely even started.

God, you're an asshole, you berate yourself as you turn the doorknob and push open the door. You're an asshole you're an asshole you’re an asshole—

Then your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. 

Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth and nose as your favorite scented candles hit you like someone shoved a bouquet in your face. The description isn't too far off considering there's a lovely bouquet of your favorite flowers still in its wrapping, haphazardly set next to a dozen donuts on the coffee table like no one's business. Its petals are strewn across the floor, a few in tiny piles like they were hastily swept to the side. Red and pink and dark green fill your vision.

Who gutted Cupid and tossed his organs around, holy fu-

"(Your name)?"

Startled, you crane your head to find Spencer, beautiful hair askew and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows as he clutches flowers to his chest. In his other hand, he grips the colored strings of several shiny red and pink balloons in the shape of hearts and—fuck—your heart might actually float up from your chest and into your eyes.

This is your man. Your partner. Your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend panics, fumbling for a second before stuffing the balloons and trimmed flowers back into the room behind him and slamming the door shut. He turns back to you, eyes wide.

"What-what are you doing here?" Spencer stammers, wringing his hands together.

You blink at him, dumbly holding up your phone. "You-uh-you left early and didn't return my calls."

"I'm sorry. I think I left my phone at work," Probably because he left in such a rush, Spencer groans, looking anywhere but you. The petals scattered over his floor are quite pretty in this light. "And I was a bit busy."

"I'm sure you were," You gawk openly at the strings of fairy lights hung around his living room. It's a clash of aesthetics. Spencer always rocked dark academia, but despite how ugly the combination of red and pink decorations with his nature green walls and dark wood is, it leaves his apartment a little brighter, a little cozier, and you love it.

You love everything about this.

But as you take in the ugly beauty of it all, Spencer fidgets at the doorway, mistaking your awe as shock and disgust. Wiping sweaty palms on his trousers, his eyes dart around, trying to focus on something, but every place he lays his eyes on makes him cringe. He catches all the things he couldn't clean up or put away in time. No doubt you do too. All the leftover flower petals, the donuts he can’t return, candles that haven’t blown out because he has the lungs of an 8-year old asthmatic. 

Spencer can't imagine how appalled you are.

And the longer your silence stretches on, the more nervous he gets so he blurts out, "I'm so sorry, (Your Name)!"

Your brow shoots up as he begins to ramble.

"You must hate this. I'll put everything away."

"You really don't have to—" You stop him, and your heart nearly crumbles as Spencer's does when he finally meets your worried gaze. 

His eyes gleam with unshed tears. He swallows, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Doc—"

"At least not without asking you—"

"Doctor—"

"I understand if you want to break up—" His voice cracks, as if the idea itself will destroy him (it definitely will). 

"Spencer—" His voice, wobbly and dripping with unnecessary guilt, draws you to him.

"But I want you to know that I—"

With an exasperated sigh, you grab his hand as yours finds the nape of his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss. 

For a second, Spencer doesn't respond because who kisses the person they're about to break up with? Strange, really. But then he kisses you back. His hands remain frozen, unsure of where he stands, but he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. He figures this is a new social cue he has yet to learn. And if this is the last time you kiss him, he'll treasure every second of it, take whatever you'll give him because again he's a lovefool for you. 

And when you pull back, he's too dazed he nearly misses the look you give him. Suddenly, he can’t breathe.

You look at him like he hung the stars instead of cheap fairy lights around his apartment. 

Spencer’s confused. "I-I... Wha—"

"I'm not breaking up with you," You chuckle, and you nearly burst out laughing as genuine puzzlement takes over his face. You tug him behind you, plopping yourselves on his couch. You smile, appreciating the way he organized the cushions and throw-pillows; there's now space for two people to lay down.

You take a breath. "You wanna know why I don't like Valentine’s Day?"

Spencer slouches, though his body is angled towards you so you suppose that's good. He sighs, "Because it's a capitalistic holiday that reinforces the idea of doing the bare minimum…"

He begins listing your reasons, and your eyes soften. Of course he listened and remembered even if you mentioned it offhandedly.

You nod once he finishes. "Yes but before that—and I can't believe I'm telling you this—back when I was a little kid, I didn’t get any Valentines."

Spencer's brow furrows at the newfound information. You continue, "I'd get some from my friends and stuff but that's not what Valentine's Day is about. At least not when you're a kid. When you’re a dumb kid, it’s about couples and romantic shit, and I didn't really have any of that growing up." You purse your lips and glance away, face flushed with embarrassment. It's really not that big a deal, but putting it into words makes the idea seem more intimate and personal.

It takes a moment for your words to sink in as Spencer can't believe his ears. How could you not have been showered with love and affection and presents on Valentines Day? It's like water doesn't make things wet or fire doesn't produce heat; it just doesn't make sense. Because you deserve that much and more.

"So every Valentine's Day, I lowered my expectations and eventually I stopped caring. I'd tell myself those things and I started to believe them," You bite your lip, eyes crinkling as you give Spencer a sheepish smile. "But now I have you."

At that, Spencer returns your smile, letting you take his hand. Any tears he had seem to evaporate instantly.

“So, I'm sorry that I hurt you. I stand by what I said before, Valentine’s Day sucks. But if it’s with you,” Blushing deeply, you play with Spencer's hand, large and veins defined compared to yours, shrugging, “I guess it’s not so bad.”

Spencer’s smile broadens, and he intertwines your fingers together. "So what you’re saying is, you don’t hate this?” He looks around his living room.

You shake your head, unable to stop the grin crossing your lips. “No. In fact, very much the opposite. Honestly, thank you for this, it’s beautiful. I have no words.” You breathe it all in; the candles, the flowers, the— Your nose wrinkles and you snort, “Did you burn something?”

Bashfully looking down, he scratches his chin. “I-uh-tried to make your favorite dishes. Though, I was hoping the candles and flowers would mask it.”

You giggle and pull him into you, snuggling into his side. “That’s okay. I’d much rather have you anyway.”

With Spencer a blushing, stuttering mess in your arms, head resting on your chest, you press a kiss to his hair and conclude; yeah, you don’t like Valentine’s Day. 

But you sure as hell love Spencer more.

—

AN:  FtH status: finished - 7/5. yes 7.

I realize this was not what anon requested but oh well i wrote this at 2 am 

I’m not that anti v day but i stand by the capitalistic aspect.

yes this takes place after For the Holidays.

also included luke bc hes my bro and i honestly think he deserves so much more than what the show gave also garvez ftw

happy post valentine’s day!!

Song: Lovefool by The Cardigans

[princesssarcastia]

2021 Harry Potter Fanfic Primer

im here to point fingers at the incredible authors that have enabled my new interest in HP content.  im still conflicted and upset about it, tbh, but for now we’re leaning into the curve.  we’re getting out our shovel and finding out just how deep we can make the hole we’re in.  hand in unlovable hand my beloved <3.  anyway, these fics are wonderful, their authors are wonderful, and you should go read their stuff. if there’s a star next to it that means im losing my mind over it and always will be.

Creatively Maladjusted, by elumish on AO3, 101k  (they also have a wonderful writing advice blog on tumblr, @elumish, which I recommend following if you are a writer) 

A very excellent re-telling of harry’s first year at hogwarts if he were sorted into Slytherin, plus some more not!fic or piecemeal re-tellings of his second and part of his third year.  Harry, in this, has a slightly different trauma response to growing up with the Dursley’s.  He’s a bit quieter, and the signs are a bit more obvious to the people around him, and I enjoyed that immensely. 

Honestly, if you’re going to get sucked into something you have absolutely no business getting sucked into, elumish is the way to go, their fic is incredible. their teen wolf fic is also immaculate, if you’re so inclined. 

Dissonance, by ImpishTubist on AO3, 2.5k (@impishtubist on tumblr)

Set during fifth year.  Oblivious!Harry has always been a delightful trope when well executed, and this is well executed.  Plus, some angst between Remus and Harry over what Umbridge has been doing to him.

I would certainly recommend a lot of ImpishTubist’s other hp work on AO3, like Lacuna.

blow us all away, by rexcorvidae on AO3, 23k (@rexcorvidae on tumblr)

In progress (like, updated last week in progress).  Currently in the beginning of Harry’s first year.  Fem!Harry, Indian!Harry.  Hagrid puts Harry in touch with Remus when she has questions about her parents, and they become reluctant, traumatized, angst-ridden pen pals who keep missing each other’s true intentions like ships in the night.  hot DAMN do I love this fic.  there’s hints of the way the dursley’s treat Harry peaking through in her letters, and I appreciated the attention to “hmm, her experience as a girl of indian descent in britain under the thumb of a bunch of white people who like being Normal may not have been gucci”

Definitely comb through the rest of their HP fic, too, I may or may not have gone feral over it.

Where the Heart is, by silver_fish on AO3, 15k (@kohakhearts on tumblr)

Woof.  This one said, “hey, harry was probably SUPER depressed in the summer after fifth year.  like, clinically.  maybe someone should do something about that.”  Fuck yeah.  Then this one said, “that someone was Snape.”  You all know my opinions on Snape; generally, Bad.  But damn if this fic didn’t wholly convince me by the end of it.  I thought it was a very realistic way for Snape to start seeing Harry as a person all on his own, and not a proxy for Snape’s angst over James and Lily, respectively.  The angst is wonderful, the ending is even more so.

*bernie sanders voice* I am once again asking you to read through the rest of the author’s HP fic.  a lot of them have similar themes; there’s actually a great one with Molly that i’m not reccing here, Wonder.

☆Bindings, Bindings, by Quietlemonhush on AO3, 60k (@quietlemonhush on tumblr)

WORDS CANNOT EXPRESS TO YOU HOW MUCH I ENJOYED/AM ENJOYING THIS.  If I had to pick a single fic and say “you, it’s your fault I’m stuck here,” it would be this one.  Anyway Lily in the afterlife is So Very Angry about how Petunia is treating Harry, and how Sirius is rotting in Azkaban, and how Remus is alone, that she literally brings herself back to life and drags James and Regulus with her.  All three of them are there to chew bubblegum and fix everything that went wrong after they died—and would you look at that, they’re all out of bubblegum!  There’s only Fury left.  That inciting premise is very crack, but every moment after that is very much not crack.  Lily and James love harry more than anything, the way a child should be loved; James and Sirius have the epic friendship of a lifetime; Sirius and Remus have staggering amounts of resolved sexual tension and take turns keeping each other in check; Regulus, though he realized that Voldemort and his family were shit before he died, is still unlearning all his racist bullshit and, also, years of trauma.  Actually, they’re all traumatized, but hey: now they have one another again and not a damn one of them seems inclined to let go anytime soon.  Quietlemonhush went, “hey, HP has a lot of Awful people in it, and a lot of Righteous people in it, and many of them are Very, Very Powerful; also, love is the most powerful force in the universe” and i said “hell yes tell me more right now.”  And then they did!

Quietlemonhush writes Sirius/Remus in a way that makes it sooo much fun to devour, so the rest of their HP fic is most certainly worth a look, if that’s your thing.

Rebuilding, by Colubrina on AO3, 113k (@colubrina on tumblr)

Hermione/Draco (*shrug emojis into the abyss* yeah, yeah, like none of us have ever been there before).  Takes place during Hogwarts 8th year, and while the beginning is, IMO, a little unfair to Ron, it gets much better.  Tells the story of Hermione and Draco clearing the air, learning to like each other, having some hormones over each other, and then falling in love.  Also tells the story of Hermione and Theo Nott becoming friends; the story of how every single 7th and 8th year student is fucked to hell by the war and the Carrows; the story of how they start an emotional support group about it and all become friends; and the story of, what the hell do you do with yourself after that kind of trauma?

I’ve been dipping in and out of Colubrina’s HP since before I was even on tumblr; I actually found them in those dark yesteryears when the only fandom interactions I had were on fanfiction.net.  Of such fame as Green Girl, which is an HP fic staple, and has also written a lot of wackier, crackier, and darker things than that.  If you don’t take yourself too seriously, I highly recommend many of their big HP works, though I imagine it’ll press some people’s buttons.  Colubrina’s work really does take up a corner of my mind whenever I’m in an HP mood, and will take up yours if you let it.

☆ all waiting is long, by shuofthewind on AO3, 149k ( @shu-of-the-wind on tumblr)

This is so well written that I can’t stop thinking about it.  It is occupying my mind when I lie awake at night, you know?  It’s one of those.  Hermione messes with something she probably shouldn’t have in Grimmauld Place, so when Sirius is sent through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries, she gets thrust into an alternate universe...in 1975.  Instead of handwaving it away, shuofthewind actually gets into the mechanics of it in a way that makes sense, to emphasize that hermione is never going home.  ever. The world she finds herself is shifted slightly to the left, quite a bit darker, but in a “the author is treating the idea of a society-wide conflict over blood purity much more seriously than JKR ever did” way, not a sensationalist way.  Now, Hermione has to grapple with all her grief at losing everyone she’s ever loved or known, the moral/ethical/magical implications of sharing what she knows about her future in an alternate world, and, you know, a goddamn war with people who want to murder her for being who she is.  This Hermione is smart, and she’s kind, and she’s powerful, and she’s making real friends.  If you hate JKR’s guts I’d go read this right now, because it delivers in all the ways she failed us.  It’s plotty, its got great world-building, and it pulls back the white curtain on the wizarding world to show you that, like real life, it’s multicultural and full of queer people...and the discrimination that comes with both.

shuofthewind write epics, mainly for the MCU, and I’ve read some of them a looooong time ago, so this fic kinda seemed out of left field for me but im SOOOO GLAD it exists.  If you want MCU fic you can sink your teeth into, go for it, but alas, they do not have any more HP fic (.......yet?)

Speak Now [+] Listen Now, by mrsfrizzle on AO3, 33k altogether

Harry reaches out to Remus for support because Umbridge is getting to him with her literal torture.  Remus, being a former professor, former mandatory reporter, person who loves Harry and has since he was born, and all around good man, tells Harry he has to tell someone, or Remus will.  It’s everything any adult looking back on that time in HP canon ever wanted, which is for an actual adult to say “what the fuck, those are literal chidlren” and then do something about it.  Then, a far more dangerous task: Harry trusts Remus enough to go to him about the Dursleys.  Harry and Remus’ relationship develops SO WELL, and there’s a bit of exploration about how Sirius may not exactly be guardian material, because he did in fact spend 12 years of his life getting tortured instead of growing up.  I think I’m actually going to go reread this right now, because it speaks to my id.

they do have some other HP fic which did not appeal to my hyperspecific wants, but may appeal to some of yours.  I think they’re also a published author, there should be a link on their profile page.

chase the stars, by Duskglass on AO3, 101k (@felix-duskglass on tumblr)

When Harry is five years old, a picture of him ends up in the Daily Prophet, and Sirius Black, Terror of Ministry Officials Touring Azkaban everywhere, gets a hold of that issue.  He then, in order: breaks out of Azkaban; crosses the countryside to Surrey; Finds Harry: Kidnaps Harry; Breaks Into Remus’ Apartment; starts processing (or maybe just acknowledging) his trauma from Azkaban, the war, and his childhood; and pines after Remus.  It’s a little plotty, and deals a lot (sometimes through flashbacks) with the specific awful things that happened to Sirius—largely because, after years in the constant presence of Dementors, those are nearly literally the only memories he has left.  It’s a wonder he’s got the strength to love Harry and Remus at all.  But then, maybe it isn’t.

This is a Very Serious Fic, but the rest of Duskglass’s HP work is actually just cracky enough to tickle your funny-bone, while still making you think “okay but why couldn’t we have done that in the first place.”

So!  That’s it for recs, for now.  These are all things I’ve found and read in the last month; if any of y’all are interested in my old HP recs, let me know and I can make a post for that, too.  While I’m still very conflicted about my choice of current fandom, I am not in ANY way conflicted about my taste in fic and authors.  Send these guys some love, read their fic if you’re so inclined, and leave some nice comments at the end of it.

[marjansmarwani]

tender-hearted sadness pulls me through the day

7.9k || ao3

Carlos is hurt, badly, and TK is faced both with the awful possibility of losing him and the fact that his parents still don't know about them. He promised Carlos he could tell them in his own time though, and he doesn't intend to break that promise for anything. Even if it means he can't be there, even if it means he has to hope from a distance. He would do anything for Carlos, after all.

aka that Carlos’s parent’s fic I’ve been working on for what feels like forever. It’s finally done and since @officereyes was the one who insisted I write it in the first place and it is her birthday, it feels only right to offer it as a part 2/on the actual correct day gift (surprise). I hope you enjoy it Jamie! 

This idea was also requested by @noxsoulmate after I had already started writing it so I also hope you enjoy, and that it was worth the wait! This was started around the same time that 2x04 aired so it is definitely no longer canon compliant, though I did tweak a few things as the season progressed. Thanks to @justaswampdemon for reading through it last night to tell me if any of it actually made sense or not because I wasn’t sure after working on it for so long!

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

TK couldn’t stop staring at his hands. 

They were shaking and though he had nearly scrubbed them raw he could still feel the memory of the blood that had coated them only a half-hour before. It was Carlos’s blood and the reminder sent his hands trembling all over again. The sight of the accident was still so fresh in his mind. It was everywhere, trapped in all of his senses — the fear of realizing just who it was trapped in the crushed vehicle, the overwhelming scent of the blood stuck in his head, the sound of the heart monitor flatlining and his own desperate pleas for Carlos to stay with them, the helplessness of Carlos’s life leaking away under his fingers — he couldn't shake it. He knew he wasn’t likely to until he saw Carlos, until he had proof that he was okay. 

But he was also a medic and he knew that the alternative, the thing he was trying so hard not to think about, to not put any energy into, was just as likely an outcome as any.  

His anxiety spiral is interrupted by the sound of frantic footsteps that pause as they grow closer to his seat. 

“TJ?” 

He sat bolt upright at the sight of Carlos’s parents, expressions tense and eyes full of fear, before him. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Reyes,” he stammered, standing up and shoving his shaking hands into the pockets of his pants, “hi. Uh, have they told you anything yet?”

“No,” Mrs. Reyes said fearfully, “we just got here.” 

TK nodded, anxiously twisting at the interior of his pockets, “I’m sure someone will be by soon,” he assured her, “he’s only been here for about an hour.”

“And how long have you been here?” Carlos’s father asked him, studying him with a piercing gaze. 

“About an hour,” TK repeated, “I was on shift, we responded to the accident. I rode in on the ambulance with him and since it was the end of my shift anyways and my Captain knows Carlos and I are...close, she told me just to stay.” 

He met Mr. Reyes’s gaze, refusing to look away and hoping desperately that he hadn’t noticed his falter. It wasn’t a lie, but the omission weighed on him. Never once since their start had he denied his feelings for Carlos. He had made that mistake once, in the very beginning, and it had nearly prevented what they had become. But he had no other choice; he had made Carlos a promise. And he wouldn’t break it, not for anything. 

The other man’s father nodded, eyes zeroing in on the paramedic badge on his shirt. “I thought you said you were a firefighter?” 

“I was, the paramedic thing is pretty new. We lost one at our station, during the volcano, and I was already dual certified from New York so…” he trailed off with a shrug, his gaze drifting from the parents before him to the doors of the trauma wing Carlos had been wheeled into upon their arrival. 

“You treated him?” 

TK snapped his gaze back to find Mrs. Reyes looking at him with wide eyes. He swallowed, and nodded, “I did, ma’am,” he confirmed, voice soft with repressed emotion. 

“And?” she asked him desperately, eyes shining with unshed tears, “How is he? How is my boy?”

How did he tell them? How did you tell your boyfriend’s parents that not even an hour ago you had been scared out of your mind that he was going to die in your arms even as you and your team worked desperately to save him? How did you do all of that without showing the emotion, how did you do that when they don’t know — when they can’t know — that his presence is what allows you to sleep soundly each night, that his smile is the thing you most look forward to seeing each and every day? 

They were both looking at him as if he held all the answers and to be fair, he did. In terms of what had happened, at least. He was just as clueless as anyone else as to what would come next.

“He was involved in a very serious accident,” he settled on. “He lost a lot of blood but we managed to get him stabilized in the field. That’s all I know though. If I knew more…” 

He trailed off but Carlos’s mother shook her head, reaching out to place a warm and trembling hand on his arm, “Thank you,” she told him, “for telling us, and for saving him. Carlitos is so lucky to have such a wonderful friend.” 

“Of course,” he said without hesitation, even though her well-intentioned words stung, even though he had to swallow what would have come next: he would do anything for Carlos. 

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

It’s another few hours before his dad and the rest of the 126 show up. He may have been exaggerating when he had told Mrs. Reyes that his shift was ending when they arrived at the hospital. The reality was that Tommy had told him to stay. She had said that she and Nancy could handle the last few hours without him and that he would be too distracted to focus for the remainder of the shift so he may as well just stay. She had been right, but that meant there had still been a shift to be finished before anyone else was available to join his vigil. 

A doctor had come by, a short while ago to give them an update. The surgery had gone well and while they had repaired the damage, they cautioned them that he was not out of danger yet, that the next several hours would be key. The knowledge had settled like a lead weight in TK’s stomach, the dread seeping through his veins. He saw his own fear clearly reflected in the eyes of Carlos’s parents and knows that they are all connected by it, even if they don’t know it. 

When the doctor told them that Carlos was being moved to a recovery room where he would be closely monitored and that a nurse would be by when he was settled to let them know, TK realized a whole other layer to this nightmare. He won’t be able to be there. There is no way he can justify sitting by Carlos’s bedside to his parents as a “friend from work.” In order to be there for Carlos, he would have to tell them the truth, and he can’t do that. Not when he made Carlos a promise. 

That’s how his team finds him: alone in the waiting room, leg anxiously bouncing against the floor as he stares in the direction of the recovery rooms, wanting nothing more than to be able to be beside Carlos, to have concrete evidence that he hadn’t lost him. 

He allowed himself to be pulled into hugs and subjected to comforting pats before anyone asks the question he’s been dreading. It’s Marjan that does, her unwavering and empathetic gaze studying him as she speaks the words: “Is he still in surgery?” 

“No, he’s in recovery now.” TK assured them, allowing them a moment to take a breath of relief before he continued, “The doctors said that the next few hours will be crucial, that those will be what really makes the difference. So we’re just...hoping for the best.” 

They all nodded, but Paul’s piercing gaze studied him, “If he’s in recovery, why are you out here and not in there?” 

TK bit his lip, turning his gaze downwards. He and Carlos hadn’t exactly shared their conflict about his parents with their friends. If TK was being honest, he had been hoping they wouldn’t ever have to, that they would cross that bridge before it ever became an issue. Clearly, the universe had other plans. 

“His parents are in there,” he replied, hoping that maybe they wouldn’t push, that maybe they could just leave it there. 

But these were their friends, and they wouldn't be so easily satisfied. 

“Is he not out to them?” Marjan asked gently, taking the seat beside him. 

“No, he’s out to them it’s just...complicated.” 

“How complicated can it be?” Judd asked as he settled into a seat across from them, “he’s out and you two are solid. Seems pretty uncomplicated to me.” 

TK didn’t know how to explain it, exactly. “They don’t know he’s in a relationship,” he settled on, “and he’s not ready to tell them. We...talked about it a few months ago, and I told him that was fine. That we could move at his pace. I mean,” he broke off here with a shrug, meeting the eyes of his teammates, “it’s the least I can do for him, right? Extend him the same understanding he gave me?”

The others exchanged glances that TK couldn’t read. Judd looked in the direction of the recovery rooms, “This ain’t right kid,” he said softly, “Carlos would want you there. You should be there.” 

TK shook his head firmly, “I promised him he could tell them on his own terms, Judd. I told him I would wait as long as he needed. I can’t make that choice for him, and I won’t. I made him a promise.” 

There was silence in the wake of his words. The others exchanged glances and TK looked away, not wanting to see their pity. He knew he was making the right choice, but that didn’t make the reality of it any easier to face. Carlos had nearly died in his arms just a few hours ago. The cold fear of losing him was still fresh in his mind, he still hadn’t been able to shake the chill from his bones. And now he was in a room just down the hall and TK couldn’t be there. Of all the challenges they had faced, this might just be the worst one yet. 

Paul let out a low breath and shook his head, “I hear you man, and it’s admirable. I get you wanting to respect Carlos’s wishes, but you’ve got to think about yourself too. Maybe it would be easier for you to not be here? Sitting here and not being able to be with him has to be hard. You could go home, wait there instead. We’ll let you know if there are any updates.” 

TK gave him a tight smile, “I appreciate it, but no. Even though I can’t be with him, I can’t imagine not being as close to him as possible. I’m not going anywhere.” 

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

His friends come and go, but TK simply waits. He assures them that he’s fine when asked, but otherwise, he is not great company. All he can manage to do is sit quietly and wait. And hope. He takes a turn around the waiting room, he bounces his leg anxiously at his seat, he fiddles with his necklace. He does everything he can to keep his body busy while his mind is fully occupied. 

He knows that right down the hall his boyfriend, the person who he might just love more than anyone else on this planet, is in a medically induced coma. He knows that he can’t be there, and he knows why. 

That doesn’t mean he hates it any less. 

That also doesn’t mean that the last image he has of Carlos — bloody and crashing on a gurney being rushed to a trauma room — is going to leave his mind any time soon. He needs to see him. He needs visual confirmation to cancel out the nightmare image running through his head. He knows that he can’t, not right now, but he won’t leave until he can. 

The waiting room empties and fills again several times during his vigil. The daylight he had entered in had faded long ago and the dark night sky was visible each time the hospital doors slid open. It was still a few hours before he saw Mr. and Mrs. Reyes leave from his corner of the waiting room. They stepped through the hospital doors hand in hand, Mr. Reyes rubbing comforting circles on his wife’s back as they headed back to their car, presumably to go home and get a few hours of sleep. 

TK, who had been coming close to dozing off in his seat, was suddenly wide awake. Carlos’s parents were gone, he could go see him.  He was out of his seat in an instant, his feet carrying him towards the door he had been staring at all day before his head could properly catch up. It wasn’t until he neared the door that he slowed, that he processed. 

It felt almost wrong to be sneaking in. He felt almost guilty for waiting for Carlos’s parents to leave, for jumping on the opportunity the moment it presented itself. But he needed to see Carlos. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to settle until he did. He could not have the last image of him in his mind be what he had looked like when they exited the ambulance. He may have gotten the same updates from the doctor but that did nothing to ease his fear. He had nearly felt Carlos die under his hands all those hours ago. He needed to feel him breathing too. 

He stepped in quietly, though he knew there was no danger of waking him. He had barely made it over the threshold before he froze, nearly toppled by the wrongness of seeing Carlos so still. To the casual observer, he probably looked like he was sleeping. But TK knew Carlos Reyes. The man was an energetic sleeper. He moved constantly in the night, always shifting and reaching out to pull TK closer when he felt he had strayed too far away. Always striving to press his body against his, always keeping them close; even in sleep. But it was more than that. His face was all wrong. Carlos’s face was expressive, even in sleep. Whatever he was thinking or feeling or dreaming was always laid out in full display for TK to read but now his face was blank. That more than anything struck TK as so foreign, so unusual. 

He took a deep, wavering breath as he crossed the room, running his eyes over him as he drew closer. From the outside, he didn’t look too badly injured, but TK knew with a cold certainty that most of the damage was hidden by bandages under the blankets. He knew that there was so much more to this than met the eye, that as wrong as Carlos looked in this bed it was a far sight better than the alternative — than what he had feared from the moment they arrived on the scene. 

“Hey babe,” he said softly as he reached the side of the bed, reaching out to run a hand through Carlos’s curls, “you look better than you did earlier. I hope you’re feeling better too.” 

He paused here, taking another moment to study him up close now. He bit his lip against the tears that wanted to come. He didn’t know how much time he would have here, he wasn’t going to waste any of it crying. 

“I know it’s going to take some time,” he said instead when he managed to steady his voice, “and I want you to know you should take all the time you need. We’ll be fine until you’re ready. I’ll be fine. I just,” he broke off, took a steadying breath, and started again, “I just want you to know that I probably won’t be here a lot, just in case you ever wonder why you can’t hear me, if you can hear any of us. I need you to know it’s not because I don’t want to be here or that I don’t love you. Because I do, so much. And there is nowhere I would rather be than right here with you at all times. But I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it. It’s…” he trailed off, taking another breath as he leaned forward, taking Carlos’s hand in his own, “it’s the least I can do,” he finished softly. 

He lapsed into silence then, savoring in the sight of his chest lightly rising and falling with each breath. Not so long ago he thought he might never see that again. He had never realized just how much he had taken the concept for granted. He vowed that he never would again. 

He leaned forward now, resting his head on the arm not intertwined with Carlos’s. “I just need you to come back to us,” he said quietly. “I need you to come back to me. I don’t want to face life without you. Don’t make me, please.” 

Even though he knew there would be no reaction, even though he knew the other man was heavily sedated, he studied his face for any hint of recognition, any glimmer of hope he could sustain himself with. There was none and it was that truth and the weight of Carlos’s hand in his that saw him off into a fitful sleep. 

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

The sound of footsteps woke TK, causing him to sit bolt upright and glance around frantically, heart thudding in his chest. 

“Relax,” an unfamiliar voice instructed, “we definitely don’t need a cardiac patient on our hands, on top of everything else.” 

It took several tries to blink the sleep out his eyes before he could make out the scene in front of him. He was in Carlos’s room. He must have fallen asleep here. He pulled himself fully upright, stretching and rubbing at the back of his neck with a grimace as he studied the nurse checking Carlos’s vitals. She glanced over at him with a raised eyebrow, “Good morning.” 

“What time is it?” he croaked out. 

“Just past 6, so I’d imagine if anyone were to come back after going home to sleep for the night they’d likely be back soon.”

“How’d you…” 

She shrugged as she checked Carlos’s IV, “Call it an educated guess. I mean, I know you paramedics are pretty dedicated but I have yet to see any of you spend an entire day in the waiting room for a patient. Figured there had to be a bit more to it than meets the eye. That, or I have to call security on you.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” TK said softly, reaching out to take Carlos’s limp hand in his own, tenderly rubbing his thumb across it, “but his parents don’t really know. It’s...complicated.” 

The nurse’s eyes softened as she studied him, “You probably have almost an hour before anyone else shows up, visiting hours don’t officially start until 7 anyways. After that, you should try to get some sleep. You’re starting to look like you should have a bed of your own.”

TK shook his head, “I’m fine, thanks.” 

“Uh-huh,” she said, sounding wholly unconvinced. “Well if you are around later and want an update feel free to ask for me at the nurses’ station. My name’s Becky.” 

“Thank you, Becky,” he said with a small smile, “you have no idea how much I appreciate that.” 

She waved off his thanks as she headed towards the door. She paused on the threshold, turning back to study him again, “Hey, Paramedic?” 

“TK,” he provided. 

“TK, then. If I find out you’re lying to me and that I should have called security…” 

He gave her a grin and a tired laugh, “Then you know where I work,” he reminded her, gesturing towards his uniform, “pretty sure you’ll be able to track me down.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I hope everything works out for you two and for what it’s worth, he’s doing okay.” 

“Thanks, Becky,” he said softly, turning his gaze back to Carlos’s still form before Becky smiled at them from the doorway and stepped quietly out of the room, shutting the door behind her. 

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

 “This is an intervention,” Paul announced. 

TK looked up sharply to see his team gathered around him several hours later. He had slipped back into the waiting room around 6:30, heedful of Becky’s warning. It was now just past 10 and he was currently being stared down by his team. He furrowed his brow in confusion and was just about to ask exactly what the hell Paul meant by that when Marjan continued. 

“You’ve been here for over 24 hours now, TK. You’re still wearing yesterday’s uniform, you haven’t eaten and I doubt you’ve slept much.”

“I got a few hours!” he interjected but faltered when he was met with 4 equally unimpressed looks. 

“And while I’m sure that was adequate sleep,” she continued in a tone that made it clear she did not in fact believe that, “you need more than that. Preferably in a bed. Preferably in your own bed.” 

TK looked down and Judd continued, voice gentle, “You need to take care of yourself, kid. You can’t be there for him if you keel over. Let us help you out.”

TK bit at his lip. He knew they were right, logically. There was only so long he could keep this up. Soon enough his body would start protesting. He could already feel the effects of little sleep and no food in his sluggish thoughts. Realistically he knew they were right, but he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Carlos. He wasn’t out of the woods yet. The thought that something might happen when he wasn’t there was enough to keep him rooted to his spot in the waiting room, consequences be damned. “I can’t leave him,” he choked out, “if something were to happen…” 

He trailed off, but Paul simply shook his head, “Nope, you’re coming with us. Judd and I are going to take you home. You’re going to shower, change, eat something and get at least 4 hours of sleep. Then - and only then - we’ll bring you back. Marjan and Mateo will stay here and let us know if anything changes. If it does we’ll bring you right back, promise.” 

TK scanned the faces of his friends. They wore matching looks of determination, and he knew that this was not an argument he was going to win. He nodded, pulling himself out of his seat and throwing another glance in the direction of Carlos’s room. He felt a hand on his arm and looked over to see Marjan giving him a sad smile, “Don’t worry, we won’t let you miss anything.” 

“Yeah dude, we’ve got this!” Mateo assured him as he plopped into an empty seat. 

TK gave them both a grateful smile. He wished he could have offered more, but he couldn’t find the words. Nothing his mind produced seemed adequate enough to express the level of gratitude he felt for each and every one of them. He hoped they knew. 

He allowed himself to be led to Judd’s truck and as they pulled away from the hospital, his mind began to wander. Logically, he knew Carlos was in good hands, that leaving the hospital did nothing to hurt his chances. But not being there just felt wrong, as if he was tempting fate. As if his desperate hope could only have an effect from within the same building.

TK was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice how close they were to their destination until the truck came to a halt outside of the condo. He froze as he looked at it, the thought of stepping foot inside their shared home without Carlos washing over him. He knew he was being too quiet, he knew that the other two had noticed that something was wrong. Judd eyed him in the rearview mirror.

“Is this okay?” he asked. “I can bring you to your dad’s if you’d rather, but I figured all your stuff is here so…” 

“No,” TK said, voice too soft. “No,” he tried again, voice a little more sure this time, “you’re right Judd, all my stuff is here. It’s fine, really. Thanks for driving me.” 

“Yeah, we’re not just going to leave you,” Paul told him, pushing open the passenger side door and climbing out, “we’re staying with you to make sure you actually do the things covered in our bargain. Plus,” he added in a gentler tone as he opened TK’s door and met his eyes, “you don’t need to be alone right now.” 

TK swallowed and nodded. He slid out of the truck without a word, crossing to the front door and pulling his keys out of his pocket. He inserted his key into the door with trembling hands and pushed it open, holding it open behind him for Judd and Paul. Once they were all inside he shut it behind them, the sound of the lock clicking into place the only sound. They stood in silence as TK looked around, trying to take in the once familiar surroundings that now felt so foreign. The clutter of day to day life was scattered throughout the living space, left waiting for them to return home and resume their lives. It was a cruel reminder of just how sudden this had been; of how much they stood to lose. 

Paul gave him a gentle shove towards the stairs, interrupting his reverie, “Go and get showered and changed, we’ll work on the food. Come back down when you’re ready.” 

TK nodded and ascended the stairs without a word. He entered their bedroom without really looking at anything, making a beeline for the dresser so as to avoid the sight of the haphazardly made bed; left rumpled when they had both decided on a late start the previous morning, abandoning their usual morning routine in favor of other pursuits. He grabbed the first pants and hoodie he found, pulling them out and heading to the bathroom without even a glance at the garments in his hand. 

Several minutes later he was forced to admit that the hot water felt good. It revived him in a way the restless sleep at Carlos’s bedside hadn’t, and it allowed him to peel back the layers of everything to find some of the positives. Namely that Carlos had survived surgery, that while he wasn’t out of the woods there had been no changes for the worst (or for the better, but a hot shower was a place for optimism.)

He stepped out feeling renewed. As he reached for his towel he reminded himself that it hadn’t even been 36 hours. In the grand scheme of things, that was practically nothing. For injuries like those, it was perfectly normal. There was no reason to expect the worst, not yet. 

He pulled on the clothes he had grabbed, soft joggers and one of Carlos’s APD hoodies that he had claimed as his own months ago and tried to keep focusing on the positives, but his optimism faded along with the lingering warmth of the shower. Maybe the worst hadn’t happened and he was certainly grateful for that, but where they were was a world away from “good.” 

He made his way down the stairs, turning the corner to find Judd and Paul in quiet conversation in the kitchen. They looked up when he appeared, Judd answering the question on his lips before he could even ask it: “No, no updates from the other two. Seems like all’s quiet there.” 

TK nodded gratefully and slid into the seat across from them. Judd slid a bowl of something that TK knew objectively should smell amazing in front of him, but all he could do was stare at it. 

“Thank you, but…” 

“No,” Judd cut him off firmly, “you need to eat. Unless you want to be the one to tell my wife that you wouldn’t eat the food she sent over for you?” 

TK sighed and picked up the fork pointedly taking a bite, and Judd huffed out a laugh, “Smart choice.”  

The other two returned to their own bowls and they ate in companionable silence. TK appreciated their understanding. He was beyond grateful to his friends for everything, but even the thought of any conversation right in this moment felt like torture. The only thoughts he could manage right now were of Carlos, and the checklist of tasks required by his team before he would be allowed to return. 

He finished his food in silence, getting up and crossing to the sink to rinse it out and place it in the dishwasher. He had just reached the sink when a hand stopped him, taking the bowl from his grasp. 

“I’ve got this,” Judd told him, “you need sleep.”

“4 hours,” Paul reminded him from the counter, “in a bed.” 

“If there are any updates…”

“We’ll let you know,” Paul assured him. 

TK swallowed and nodded, turning and heading back upstairs with a soft thanks. He entered their bedroom again, this time unable to ignore the queen-sized elephant in the room. He lowered himself onto his side of the bed, muscle memory guiding him to lay on his left side, giving him a full view of Carlos’s empty pillow. 

The sight of him hit him harder than anything else and suddenly he felt as if walls were closing in around him. All the feelings he had been pushing back, holding at bay so he didn’t fall apart at the wrong moment breached his tenuous barriers. The catalyst grew harder to see as his vision was clouded with tears. He rolled over, turning his back to the reminder as his body shook with sobs too long repressed. He let 36 hours of pain and fear and panic out as he lay in their bed, hoping desperately that the aching emptiness beside him did not become his new reality. 

Eventually, he drifted off into a fitful sleep; head resting on his tear-soaked pillow and clinging to the desperate hope that when he woke up, things would look better. 

————-

Things didn’t look much better when he woke up, but his head did feel a little clearer. 

He woke with a jolt at the sensation of someone lightly shaking him. He sat up quickly to find Paul standing next to him, hands raised in a placating manner, “Easy man, it’s just me.” 

TK could feel fear creeping through his mind. If Paul was waking him up then…

“What happened?” he choked out. He knew he shouldn’t have left. He should have fought them more, he should have insisted on staying, no matter what. 

“Nothing,” Paul assured him, voice even and soothing, “everything’s fine. It’s just been a bit over 4 hours and while personally, I would love to let you sleep longer I figured it was only fair to wake you up and let you decide. There are no new updates and no one is going to judge you for taking the time to get a little more sleep.” 

TK took a shuddering breath, willing his heart rate to go back to normal. He shook his head and pulled himself out of the bed, “No, I should be getting back. Thank you though,” he added to Paul, “for waking me up, for everything, really.” 

“Of course man. We meant what we said: we’re here for you. I can’t imagine how hard this is, especially given everything, but you’re not alone in this. Don’t forget that. We all care about Carlos too, and we care about you.” 

TK looked down, not sure quite how to respond to that. Thankfully, Paul knew him well. His friend put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. TK looked up and gave him a smile that Paul returned, “Take some time to get ready, Judd and I will be ready to leave when you are.” 

He nodded again and watched as Paul stepped out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He then took a breath to steady himself before he surveyed the room, actually thinking about what he might need this time around. He grabbed his phone charger and shoved it into his pocket but couldn’t think of anything else he might need. All he could think about was getting back to the hospital as soon as possible. He met the other two downstairs and at his nod they head out without a word, TK only pausing on the threshold for a moment as he glanced back at the empty condo. Soon he would be coming back here, with Carlos. He was sure of it; no other option was acceptable. 

He shut the door behind him, turning his key in the lock until he heard the telltale click, and climbed into Judd’s truck for a silent ride to the hospital. When they arrived, he went to climb out but was stopped by Judd’s voice as the older man turned to look at him from the driver’s seat. 

“I know you’re worried about him brother,” he said softly. “I can’t even imagine what it must feel like and what a mess I would be if it were Grace, but you still need to take care of yourself, remember that.”  

TK swallowed down the emotions that rose up as he met Judd’s eyes.There was so much understanding in them and he knew that the other man knew what he was going through more than most. He gave him a nod, and a promise: “I’ll try.” 

Judd nodded in satisfaction and TK climbed the rest of the way out of the backseat, giving his two friends a wave before he stepped out and headed back inside. He immediately headed to the nurses’ station and was about to ask for Becky when a familiar voice sounded behind him. 

“TJ? What are you doing back here.” 

TK froze at the sound of Mrs. Reyes’s voice. “Hi, Mrs. Reyes,” he began, “I was just checking in to see how Carlos was doing.”

The older woman’s expression softened and she reached out a hand to lay on his arm, “You are such a good person, my son is so lucky to have you as a friend.” 

TK swallowed down the bile at the word, at the reminder of why he couldn’t be in there with Carlos. “How is he?” he managed to ask in a normal tone, “Has there been any change?” 

Mrs. Reyes shook her head sadly, “No, but the doctors say that is to be expected right now. They say that if things remain as they are they will likely start weaning him off the sedation soon, so I guess that’s a good sign.” 

“It is, he assured her, because despite everything she looked worried and he didn’t want her to suffer. “It’s a very good sign. Normal means that nothing is wrong, that things are healing. Paramedic,” he reminded her with a shrug when she shot him a curious glance, “I’m no doctor but I do know a decent amount about traumatic injuries.” 

She smiled at him and squeezed his arm, “And I am so glad my Carlitos had someone like you working on him. I know it couldn’t have been easy to see someone you care about hurt like that but you helped to give him a fighting chance. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that.” 

“No thanks needed,” he told her softly, “it’s my job.” 

“Still,” she insisted, pulling him into a hug. “I am so glad you are my son’s friend. He deserves wonderful people like you in his life.” 

TK stiffened in the hug, her words hitting wounds she didn’t even know existed. He cleared his throat as he gently pulled away. “Thank you for the update,” he told her, “I appreciate it.” 

She nodded, “Would you like to come sit with him for a bit? We don’t mind, there is plenty of room.” 

The thought of being so close to Carlos but not being able to hold him, of having to stay distant so as not to blow their secret in front of his parents was too much. He was certain he wasn’t strong enough for that. 

“Thank you,” he told her, “but I should get going. I don’t want to intrude and I just wanted to see how he was doing.”

“Of course,” she told him warmly, “but if you change your mind, feel free to stop by.” 

He nodded and with one last hug she let him go and he stepped away, heading towards the doors. He didn’t know where he was going, there was nowhere else for him to go. He needed to be here, but he couldn’t be in there with them. He couldn’t be so close without revealing their relationship and he refused to do that to Carlos. 

He stepped outside into the late afternoon sunlight, trying to decide what to do next. Trying to tamp down on the tears threatening to rise. It was too much. He had thought he was strong enough to handle this but he wasn’t. He couldn’t do this. 

“TK?” 

His name, said like a question from a familiar voice, caused him to turn to see Marjan heading towards him, a tray of coffees in her hand and a frown on her face. 

“Hey Marj,” he said, hoping his voice sounded normal. Judging by the look on her face, he failed. 

“What happened? Paul said you just got back. Is there any news? Mateo and I have been keeping an eye out but we didn’t see…” 

“No,” he assured her, “no, you didn’t miss anything. Things are still fine. I just…” he trailed off, took a breath and started again. “I just ran into Carlos’s mother. She was very pleasant; offered to let me sit in the room with them. Told me what a good friend I was to her son.” 

Marjan’s face dropped, “TK,” she said softly, but any response he could have given was swallowed by the tears he couldn’t stop. He thought he had gotten them all out a few hours ago as he lay in their bed, but clearly he was wrong. There were still plenty more. He felt arms wrap around him as Marjan pulled him into a hug, simply holding him as he cried. 

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

TK was thumbing through the book Paul left him when Becky approached him. His heart was immediately in his throat and he was about to ask her what was wrong when he noticed that she was grinning. 

“He’s awake,” she informed him, “has been for a little bit now. The doctors are running some tests right now so his parents have stepped out, but they should be done shortly, if you want to go see him.” 

“Yes,” TK said immediately, “of course. Thank you.” 

Becky gave him a warm smile, “It’s the least I could do. I do love a happy ending, after all. Give it about 5 minutes and then the doctors should be done.” 

TK nodded, hardly daring to believe that this was real. Carlos was awake. He was okay. “Thank you,” he called out to Becky again as she walked away, “really.” 

She gave him another smile before she disappeared around the corner and he was left to wait. He pulled out his phone to send a quick update in the group chat: Carlos was awake and he’d give them more details when he had them. There was a flurry of enthusiastic responses and well wishes before TK realized the 5 minutes were almost up and pulled himself out of his seat, heading towards Carlos. 

He crossed to the door almost hesitantly, not quite able to shake the fear that maybe Becky had been wrong, that maybe he was somehow imagining this whole thing. But when he stepped inside and was met with a warm, exhausted gaze from familiar brown eyes, he almost staggered in relief. 

“Carlos,” TK breathed and the weak, tired smile he received in return was without a doubt the best sight he had seen in days. 

“What are you doing way over there?” Carlos asked him and TK was across the room in an instant, skidding to a halt at Carlos’s beside and placing a tender kiss to the top of his head. He blinked away the tears threatening to fall as he studied Carlos. There was so much he wanted to say to him, so much he needed to say. He just wasn’t sure where to start. 

“Hi,” he settled on, and winced. As bedside greetings after a traumatic injury went, it wasn’t a good one. 

Thankfully, Carlos chuckled, “Hi to you too. How are you doing?”

“Me?” TK asked incredulously, “Carlos, I’m not the one who nearly died.” 

“No,” Carlos agreed, voice growing more serious as he studied him, “but my mom spent some time going on about how my friend ‘TJ’ saved my life. If that had been me and it had been you, I don’t think I would be okay.” 

TK shook his head, “Can��t you just worry about yourself for once like a normal person,” he gripped, but there was no heat in his words. Carlos raised an eyebrow at him before he sighed. “It’s been rough,” he admitted, “it wasn’t easy and definitely not an experience I am ever looking to relive, but if it meant saving you I would do it a thousand more times.” He held Carlos’s gaze for several long moments in the wake of his words, making sure that his boyfriend understood just how much he meant it. Any amount of pain or suffering on his own part was acceptable long as Carlos was alive and well at the end of it all.  

“But you’re awake now and you’re going to be okay,” he concluded after some time, “nothing else matters.” 

“From what I’ve heard, there might be one more thing that matters.” At TK’s questioning look he explained, “My parents. They referred to you as my friend. Did you…?” 

He trailed off but TK shook his head vigorously, “No,” he said firmly, “of course not. I promised you you could tell them on your own terms, that I was fine with being the friend as long as it took. I meant that.” 

“Ty,” Carlos said softly, squeezing their linked hands and giving him a sad look, “babe. You could have said something. I wouldn’t have been mad. Thinking about you going through this by yourself is worse than any possibility of my parents’ reaction.”

“I wasn’t by myself,” he reminded Carlos, “I had my team. Our friends. I was never alone in this.” 

“Remind me to thank them.” 

“Oh don’t worry,” TK quipped lightly, leaning into this new topic in an effort to leave talk of his parents and the endless waiting behind, “I am sure they will be here the moment you are allowed more visitors.” 

Carlos laughed lightly until he broke off with a grimace of pain. TK leaned forward anxiously, “Are you okay? Does it hurt too badly? Should I get a nurse? Do you--” 

“Ty,” Carlos said firmly, “it’s okay. I’m okay. I just jostled things a bit, stop worrying.” 

“I don’t think you are ever going to make that possible, Carlos Reyes.” 

“Look who’s talking.” 

TK opened his mouth to fire a response back but any retort he may have made was interrupted by the arrival of Andrea and Gabriel Reyes in the doorway. TK froze and went to pull his hand out of Carlos’s grasp, but Carlos held tight. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Uh, out of here?” TK answered, though it came out more like a question, “To give you some time with your parents?” 

Carlos shook his head, “You’re not going anywhere. You belong here.” He turned to his parents, who were watching with curious gazes from the doorway, “Mom, Dad, there’s something I need to tell you.” 

TK leaned in closer, voice low in Carlos’s ear, “Maybe waking up from a medically induced coma is not the time for major life decisions, babe. You don’t have to do this now.” 

Carlos turned his head to meet TK’s dubious expression with his own, “If not now, when? You said it yourself: nothing ever stays the same.” 

“Are you sure?”

Carlos smiled at him and squeezed their still intertwined hands, “Yeah, I am.” 

He turned his gaze back to his parents, who were watching the proceedings curiously, “I know you’ve already met TK,” he told them, “and I told you he was a friend from work. But I lied to you, he is so much more than that. I’d like you to formally meet my boyfriend, TK Strand.” 

TK anxiously watched their reactions only to see that while there were many emotions playing out on the Reyes’ faces, surprise was not amongst them. 

“You knew,” he blurts out, unable to help himself. 

Gabriel Reyes shrugged, “We were pretty sure after we met y’all at the market, but when you didn’t say anything when we got here we weren’t so sure and we didn’t want to press,” he began. “But seeing how worried you were, and how often you were here, I figured there was something we didn’t know. Plus, you’re wearing his shirt.” 

TK looked down at the old APD sweatshirt he barely remembered grabbing on his trip home sheepishly and he could feel Carlos laughing light beside him. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” Andrea asked him, eyes wide with sympathy, “All that time you spent waiting by yourself…” 

“I made Carlos a promise,” he said simply, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand even as he spoke to his parents. “I promised him he could tell you on his own terms in his own time, and I would never break a promise I made to him for anything.”

The next thing he knew Andrea’s arms were around him again, squeezing him in a bone crushing hug. He nearly staggered back from the force of it, shooting a bewildered look over her shoulder to Carlos, who is smiling fondly at them. 

“I was hoping we were right,” she told him softly, “all that time you were, how deeply you cared for him. I am so glad we were, and so happy that my son has someone to love him as much as you do.” 

She pulled away to give him a teary smile that he returned. Gabriel stepped forward to wrap an arm around his wife’s shoulder and lean forward to offer TK an outstretched hand. 

“It’s a pleasure to properly meet you, TK,” he said warmly. TK smiled at him before taking the offered hand. 

“Likewise, sir.” 

They ended the handshake and TK looked back to Carlos to see him beaming at him. He shifted over in his bed to make room for TK to perch on the edge beside him. TK did, happily, readjusting the grip of their joined hands so they could rest comfortably in Carlos’s lap. 

“I always knew they would like you,” Carlos told him with a grin, raising an eyebrow at his parents, “but I didn’t know what detectives they were.” 

“I am a Texas Ranger son,” Gabriel deadpanned, “in case you have forgotten.” 

Carlos rolled his eyes at his father, earning him a lackluster admonishment from his mother and TK let the warmth of this moment settle around him. He could tell Carlos’s parents still had questions, he knew there would be some hard conversations to be had in the coming days. But for now they were all here together, and Carlos was okay. Their secret was out and TK didn’t have to hide the love he felt for this man for anyone ever again. He leaned over to press a soft kiss to the top of Carlos’s head, savoring the ability to do so and the way Carlos leaned into him in turn. 

Things weren’t perfect but at this moment they were pretty close, and that was more than enough. 

[michaels-blackhat]

thoughts on evil Forrest 😈

We are going to start out by apologizing. This is very very late. I’m sure when you sent this ask, you meant it to be in the same joking tone that I approach all of my other propaganda posts. Sadly, this is actually going to be a deep dive into a few Evil Forrest related things, including the moment I feel they changed directions, the perfect wasted build-up, and the implications of the change/how it then negatively impacted the story. As I’m sure you already know, by being on my blog at all, I don’t think the story was good to begin with, so we are going to focus on the weird hoops they made themselves jump through to make that story still work. Additionally, I am only going to mention once, right now, how much of a waste it was to not have Forrest ‘fall for his mark’ and complete one of my absolute favorite tropes. Honestly, I think “because I want it” is a completely valid reason to like Evil Forrest. But, the question was “Thoughts on Evil Forrest” and these thoughts have been developing for over a year and a half. So, I apologize in advance.

The majority of this is under a cut, with highlights in the abstract. If no one wants to read this, I understand completely. Go ahead, skip it.

Note: it pains me greatly to not actually have full sources for this essay. Just know that in my heart I am using proper APA citations, I just absolutely do not feel like digging through tweets to find sources to properly cite.

Abstract:

Previous research indicates that Roswell New Mexico has a history of repeating excuses to explain mid-season changes to plots. This essay explores how those excuses are not only loads of crap, but how they hinder the show’s ability to tell a coherent story, misuse the multiple-plot structure to enhance the themes being explored, and lead to decisions that mean the show continuously goes over budget. This also means that characters are not used to their full potential and has led to what some fans consider to be “out of character” behaviors. While these behaviors are not universally agreed on, evidence can be shown that these behaviors directly contradict emotionally important character arc/plot points in the show.

The author of this paper acknowledges that the show took some strides to mend this problem. However, once again no consensus could be found on whether Forrest was a low-level member of Deep Sky and thus just allowed to fuck off on a bus, or his job was recruitment because he did a piss poor job of making Alex not join.

The concept of Evil Forrest has been with the fandom as early as New York Comic Con (NYCC) in 2019, when it was revealed that Alex had a new “blue-haired love interest”. Speculation abounded within the fandom, with some people, including the author, going “yeah, he’s evil” while others rejoiced in the concept of Alex having a loving partner. Speculation increased as fans discussed Tyler Blackburn’s seeming disinterest in his new love interest, prompting some once again to scream “EVIL” at the top of their lungs to anyone who would listen. Very little was revealed, beyond the fact that the new character would show up somewhere around episode 3 of the second season.

Episode 2.04 aired with some commenting on how he barely interacted with Alex- prompting more evil speculation- and others excited to see the characters interact more. The character appears again in 2.06, where he invites Alex to dubious spoken word poetry (which Alex attends); 2.08, where they have a paintball date and go to The Wild Pony; 2.10, where the two are seen writing together briefly at the beginning of the episode; and 2.13, where Alex performs his song at open mic night, tells Forrest his relationship with the person in the song was long over, and they kiss. Forrest was not revealed to be evil during season 2.

Amidst the season airing, Word of God via Twitter post announced that yes, Forrest had originally been planned as a villain, though not the main villain, but it was changed as filming progressed.

The Word of God Twitter post revealed that Forrest had originally been planned as a villain, but they decided that they could not make their “blue-haired gay man” a villain. This mirrors a similar situation and excuse used the previous season, where the character of Jenna Cameron was originally planned to work with Jesse Manes against the aliens, before it was changed because they just “loved Riley [the actress] too much”. Both of these examples occurred while already filming and reflect on a larger problem with the show. Though not the topic of this essay, it is important to note that both characters are white, both in the show and by virtue of being played by white actors. The fact that they couldn’t be villains for one reason or another is not a courtesy extended to the male villains who are all the most visibly brown, and thus ‘other’, members of the cast.

This also highlights the fact that, via Twitter, it has been revealed two other times that occurrences that were reported in season 1 also occurred in season 2. During the airing of episode 1.02, it was revealed that the single best build-up of tension in the show- when Alex walks to the Airstream not saying a word to Michael after a dramatic declaration- happened because one actor was sick at the time and they had to go back and film the kisses later. At the point of airing for episode 2.08, it was revealed that one of the actors were sick and unable to film a kissing scene. Allegedly, this caused the writers to retool the entire scene and deviate from the plan to make that subplot about Coming Out. The execution of this subplot will be explored later in this essay.

The last occurrence revealed via Twitter also revealed larger issues within the show: lack of planning and poor budgeting. During the airing of season 1, Tyler Blackburn was needed for an extra episode beyond his contracted 10. A full explanation was never given, but speculation about poor planning and to fill in because Heather Hemmens had to miss one of her 10 episodes due to scheduling conflicts for another project. During the airing of season 2, yet another tweet came out saying they made a mistake and Tyler would once again be in an additional episode. No explanations beyond “a mistake” were given, though once again speculation occurred. It is the opinion of the author that this was due to changing plot points over halfway through writing, while episodes were already in production. It has been speculated by some that these changes occurred during the writing of 2.08, which was being finished/pre-production was occurring roughly around the time of NYCC 2019.

Previous Literature:

A brief look at different theories of plots and subplots

Many people have written on the subject of plotting, for novels and screen alike. The author is more familiar with film writing than tv, but a lot of the concepts carry over. Largely, the B- and C- (and D- and E-… etc) plots should reinforce the theme of the A-plot. This can be through the use of a negative example, where the antithesis of the theme is explored to reinforce the theme presented by the A plot, or through other examples of the theme, generally on a small scale.

A movie example of this would be Hidden Figures (2016), where the A-plot explores how race and gender impact the main character (Katherine Johnson) in her new job. The B-plots explore the other characters navigating the same concepts in different settings and ways- learning a new skill as to not become obsolete and breaking boundaries there (Dorothy Vaugn) and being the first black woman to complete a specific degree program and the fight it took to get there (Mary Jackson). A TV example that utilizes this concept of plot and theme is the 911 shows. Each of the rescues in a given episode will directly relate to the overall theme of the episode and the overall plot for the focus character. This example is extremely blunt. It does not use any tools to hide the connection, to the point you can often guess the outcome for that A-plot fairly quickly.

This is not the only way to explore themes within visual media. Moonlight (2016) looks at three timestamps in the life of Chiron. Each timestamp has a plot even if they feel more like individual scenes or moments rather than plots as some are more used to in films. Each time stamp deals with rejection, isolation, connection, and acceptance in different ways. So while there is no clear A-, B-, or C-Plot, each time stamp works as their own A-Plot to explore the themes in a variety of ways, particularly by starting out in a place of rejection and moving to acceptance or a place of connection to isolation.

Please note that there are many ways to write multiple plots, there are just two examples.

While there are flaws within season 1 of RNM, overall the themes stayed consistent throughout the season, mainly the theme of alienation. The theme threads through the Alien’s isolation/alienation from humanity which is particularly seen through Michael’s unwillingness to participate and Isobel’s over participation. There is Rosa’s isolation from others, how her friendship with “Isobel” ended up compounding her existing alienation from her support system due to her mental illness and coping mechanisms. We see how Max and Liz couldn’t make connections. This theme presented itself over and over in season 1. While this essay is not an exploration of the breakdown of themes in season 2, it should be noted that there were some threads that followed throughout the season. The theme of mothers/motherhood was woven throughout season 2, with some elements more effective than others. Please contact the author for additional thoughts on Helena Ortecho and revenge plots.

One of the largest problems within season 2 was the sheer number of plots jammed into the season. These plot threads often ended up hindering the effectiveness of the themes and made the coherence of the season suffer. Additionally, a lot of them were convoluted and difficult to follow.

Thesis:

Essentially, season 2 was a mess. To look at it holistically is almost an exercise in futility. Either you grow angry about the dropped plots and premises, you hand wave them off, or you fill them in for yourself. Instead, this essay proposes to look at individual elements to explain why Forrest should have stayed evil.

We first meet Forrest in 2.04 when he is introduced on the Long Family Farm, which we later learn was the location where our past alien protagonists had their final standoff. He’s introduced. He’s largely just there. The audience learns he has more of a history with Michael. In 2.06, we meet him again with his dog Buffy (note: poor Buffy has not been seen again and we miss a chunky queen). There’s mild flirting, Alex is invited to an open mic night, which he attends. For the purpose of this essay, the author’s thoughts on the poetry will not be expressed. Readers can take a guess.

It is after this point that the author speculates the Decision was made. This choice to make Forrest not evil- paired with the aforementioned ‘can’t kiss, someone’s sick’- impacted the plot. We have Alex have a scene with his father- which the author believes could have been pushed to a different episode- and then have Alex go on a date and then not kiss Forrest at the end of the night. Here, the audience sees Forrest hit Alex in the leg, allegedly not knowing he had lost his leg despite ‘looking him up’, which parallels the shot to the leg that happens to Charlie. Besides wasting this ABSOLUTELY TEXTBOOK SET UP WTF, it also takes Alex away from the main plot and then forces a new plot for him. Up to this point, Alex’s plot was discovering more about the crash and his family’s involvement. Turning Alex’s date from a setup for evil Forrest to a Coming Out story adds yet another plot thread to a packed season. It is also the author’s thought that this is where the convoluted kidnapping plot comes in. With Forrest already in 2.10 for a moment, a plot where Alex is evil has Forrest attack him for Deep Sky rather than Jesse abduct him for a piece of alien glass Alex was going to give him anyway and then for Flint to abduct Alex from Jesse. It’s messy. In a bad way. Evil Forrest would have been a cleaner set up: no taking back a piece of alien glass Alex gave to Michael in a touching moment. No double abduction. Instead, there is only Forrest, who Alex trusts, breaking that trust to take him as leverage over Michael.

Implications:

Now, Alex has two plots (Tripp & Coming Out). The Coming Out plot is largely ineffective, as they are only relevant to scenes with Forrest and have the undercurrent of there only being a certain acceptable way to be out. This could have been used for Alex to discover his comfort levels, mirroring Isobel’s self discovery, but there was not enough screen time for that. Additionally, Isobel’s coming out story was about her allowing herself the freedom to explore. Alex’s story was about the freedom to… act like this dude wanted him to. Alex’s internalized homophobia played out often in the series but it was also informed by the violence he experienced at Jesse’s hands and the literal hate crime he and his high school boyfriend experienced. With that in mind, the “kissing to piss off bigots” line comes off poorly. This is a character who experienced what a pissed off bigot could do- reluctance to kiss in public is not the same as not being out. There is more to be said on this topic, but as it is not actually the focus of the essay, it will be put on hold. To surmise: Alex’s coming out is attempted to be framed as being himself, but it is actually the conformity to someone else’s ideals. It does not work as an antithetical to Isobel’s story, as the framing indicates that the conformity/right was to be out contradicts Isobel’s theme.

Further Research:

MAKE FORREST EVIL YOU COWARDS

Author Acknowledgements:

The author of this paper acknowledges that the show took some strides to mend this problem. However, once again no consensus could be found on whether Forrest was a low-level member of Deep Sky and thus just allowed to fuck off on a bus, or his job was recruitement because he did a piss poor job of making Alex not join.

[butterfly--empress]

So About BnHA…

Man! I don’t participate much on here but it sure has been an interesting popcorn eating time, lurking through the good, the bad, and the annoying posts in the spoiler chapter tags. For this week’s chapter, especially!

Not gonna rant (I save those for close friends on discord) 

I do notice that lines within this crazy ass fandom have been drawn, tears have been shed and righteous fury has been felt. And no matter wtf Mister Horikoshi has in stored for chapter 320, it’s going to be a make or break chapter for a lot of folks. I did try my best to keep this post Bakugou neutral grounds. I don’t think I’ve bashed nor favored the character just fyi.

But the most inconspicuous opinions can be taken too serious these days…

The Silly:

For chapter 320 onwards, I am and have ALWAYS BEEN 100% Team: The Legend, The Myth, The Champ, Izuku ‘Feral!Rabbit-Cryptid!’ Midoriya! Win or Lose, I ride or die with Midoriya, hands down! ON GOD!

While everybody yelling into the tumblr void over whose gonna win or lose.

I’m sitting here thinking about two things: A) Has no one thought that maybe some of Class 1-A might side with Deku? *coughsUraraka/Iida/Todorokicoughs* *coughsmaybeevenMineta/Asui/Yaoyorozu???coughs* *coughs maybe even a surprise Shinsou/class1-b reveal even though class 1-b don’t know deku that well* B) Did everyone forget in all the excitement that uhh my boi has yet to unlock the 2nd OFA user’s quirk???

I mean, I’m not saying if it does come down to a bawl of drama and angst, that Izuku’s gonna win.

But I am saying, if it does come down to a bawl of drama and angst, that Izuku’s gonna win…I regret nothing with this bet! If my boi loses we just gonna take that L but…ya know…*shrugs*…Baby, beat their Bakugou’s collective asses.

The Serious:

Personally, I honest to god really love this shounen series with all my heart. It is the anime that reignited my love for shounen after my fatigued of constant disappointment with two old shounen favorites. 

Now, having said all that: I truly have not had a serious issue with the writing choices made by Horikoshi. Yes, I have my…gripes…(it’s complicated) but considering what I got compared to the stuff I’ve watched/read in the past, it’s definitely better to me. Having read/watched a lot of anime/manga and shounen, (I haven’t watched them ALL, srsly after my great disappointment and real life I sort of had an anime dry spell if you must know. Watched some stuff here and there when I could/in the mood but not as frequent as I’ve done like yrs ago), I’ve come to learn to just…begrudgingly accept/expect certain; I suppose you can say, writing choices or ‘tropes’ that I can just easily ignore them, roll my eyes when I see them, and still enjoy whatever I’m invested in at the time. 

The only real frustrations I have is with a certain character. Yes, I mean Bakugou. I have come to tolerate him, I have come to begrudgingly like him, especially after a second rewatch of the series, I could see and accept that in a very typical shounen way, Bakugou did change, though very little, and it’s subtle and undeniably frustrating how it’s happening but it’s there. However, I do question Horikoshi’s writing choices when it comes to him at times. I see the character development, I know it’s there but….*sighs*

Now I’m one of these people who do believe that the creator of this universe, actually knows wtf he’s doing with his own story (even if rabid/hormonal younger fans loudly disagree but YMMV). One thing I’ve noticed, for the most part, he doesn’t just write/draw things for the hell of it, even if a certain plot or a certain character’s development takes a snail’s pace to get to the point. The conclusion of building up to arcs do have a pay off. (And I 100% understand that for some people, moving at a snail’s pace just don’t cut it. Everything cannot please everybody all of the time and that is FINE!)

Katsuki Bakugou…I know the crumbs and very subtle ways he’s changed have to lead somewhere and to something huge. When Bakugou admits to All Might he bullied Midoriya when they were kids, I had an ‘ah ha!’ Moment. The fact that a very prideful guy like Bakugou was finally starting to admit just that much, (even though, we the audience knows it runs way deeper than he’s admitting here) even in his frustrating roundabout way I like to think this is progress, is very in-character and cannot just be for the hell of it. It has to be leading up to something else other than Bakugou jumping in to take that hit for Deku during the war arc. There is unresolved tension still between Bakugou and Midoriya that is not going to just go away because they will it to.

Which brings us to Chapters 318 and especially 319. It’s the perfect set up for all the dirty skeletons to come out of the closet that both Bakugou and Midoriya have been avoiding/trying to pretend doesn’t exists between them, because it’s been a long time coming. The honest to god truth? This is actually how I always thought this confrontation will go, with a showdown that forces Midoriya into a corner where all those repressed negative feelings he’s bottled up inside is bound to come out; Because I Honestly think Izuku would take what Bakugou’s done to him to his grave if he had it, his way. (Boy can be very frustratingly stubborn when he wants to be).

It’s just, after saying all this, I don’t hold my breath that Horikoshi will take it there…The opportunity is there, I want it to go there, it NEEDS to go there! In order for both characters to come out for the better. But will Mister Horikoshi ‘DO THE THING?’

Remains to be seen. A little bit of me is hopeful, another part of me is resigning myself to feeling dissatisfied with what little we got for Bakugou’s character development and by proxy, Izuku’s getting stuck in limbo. I’m not kidding, Bakugou being a very contentious character within this fandom doesn’t just come from nowhere. But this post isn’t about me ranting into the void about Bakugou. (I don’t even think I can muster up the rage I felt the first time watching MHA blindly to rant to high hell about the bullshit Bakugou’s done now.)

I suppose I will just have to internally scream for 1,000 yrs over half baked character development if Horikoshi doesn’t do the FUCKING THING in giving a satisfying pay off to Katsuki and Midoriya’s history. I’ll just frustratingly chalk it up to old freaking shounen logic and just continue to enjoy the series because I’ve been here for Izuku Midoriya since ep 1 and I am not about to let Bakugou or Horikoshi’s unwillingness to do something with him derail that. And there’s always hoping that someone is writing some really good Bakugou gets actual Consequences fanfic out there because ooh boy…I like Bakugou but mofo can catch these hands…and I’m not even a fighter, but Bakugou…this lil shit does make you want to choke the hell out of him at times. 

I haven’t been this emotionally frustrated over an anime character since…maybe fucking Louise from Zero no Tsukaima and it takes a LOT to make me actually dislike characters, good or bad. 

All in All: Regardless of how the story goes from here on out, we are all about to lose our collective shits. No matter how you feel about which characters…

It’s about to go down!

[oharascholar]

Why Sanji meeting Yamato has LGBTQ+ readers on edge - Scholar’s Summaries #1

(Image originally posted to Tumblr by user Rumenta)

As the Wano arc in One Piece progresses steadily, the cast of the series expands ever more. Amongst the unique cast of new characters, we meet Kaido’s Son - Yamato, a young man who wishes to be just like the beloved ex-hero of the country, a man named Oden.

Yamato is an exciting character to see for many LGBTQ+ people like myself. He is a man who was assigned female at birth, who has plump lips, long eyelashes, and breasts. This, to many LGBTQ+ readers, and definitely to myself, brings up the idea of masculine people being allowed to exhibit traditionally ‘female’ body parts, and a comforting reminder that you can be a man without paying for gender-affirming surgery or binding your chest. This speaks to me as a transmasc nonbinary person - I, too, was assigned female at birth, refer to myself as a man, and have a traditionally female body in the same way. I do not once think of myself as a woman.

(One Piece Chapter 984, page 17 of 17. First published in Weekly Shonen Jump 2020, issue 31)

My opinion of Yamato thus far, as a transmasc nonbinary person, has been entirely positive - I enjoy seeing a man who is openly referred to as a man in universe (for example, ‘Kaido’s Son’), who has features which are traditionally seen as non-masculine. It is how I feel about my own body - I rarely give a second thought to the fact that I have breasts. They don’t make me any less masculine, and I tend not to dwell on them at all. It makes me feel happy to see a character who I can truly relate to on such a personal level.

Yamato is a positively portrayed character in the series, and is a supporting character to our main protagonist, Luffy. He plays an important role in fighting against the main villain of this arc. He was even shown to be good friends with Portgaz D. Ace, one of the most beloved supporting characters in the series - even giving Ace the much important ‘vivre card’ which played a vital role in the Marineford Arc. Yamato is given plot importance within the story as a whole with this, linking him throughout the story.

(One Piece Chapter 1000, page 9 of 19 first published in Weekly Shonen Jump 2021, issue 5-6)

It is also easy, as a transmasc person, to read heavily into Yamato’s situation with his father. Initially, it seems positive - Kaido refers to Yamato as his son openly. To an outsider, Kaido accepts Yamato’s identity... Then enter the ‘Oden’ issue.

Yamato wishes to be just like Kozuki Oden on all fronts, changing his appearance to try and look just like him. This part of Yamato’s identity has caused contemption in Kaido, with Yamato even recounting that Kaido would beat him over it. Ever since Yamato first wanted to be like Oden, from the age of eight, Kaido has kept him shackled up inside of his residence.

Yamato states that he can’t truly be Oden until he is free of his shackles given to him by his father. To many, this strikes as a direct parallel towards living in a transphobic household.

When Luffy, a character who has represented liberation throughout the series, first tries to remove these shackles, Yamato is instinctively afraid. He explains that the shackles will explode, and that they’ve been on him for twenty years. He also ponders if he is being kept in by a lie - wondering if his father would really let his son be blown up for merely leaving the island.

(One Piece Chapter 985, page 9 of 19. First published in Weekly Shonen Jump 2020, issue 33-34)

No matter how you put it, Yamato is transgender. Though it has not been officially stated as such, it seems to be heavily implied that he is a transgender man, without issue.

Yamato instinctively wants to keep the status quo, one which technically keeps him safe, at the expense of his identity and freedom. The danger, of course, is purely created by his father. This something which many transgender people can resonate with, the idea of staying ‘in the closet’ so as to not cause contemption within your family.

Luffy removes the shackles and throws them away, causing them to explode - this event causes Yamato to become enraged and upset, stating that he no longer thinks of Kaido as his father. This is a powerful moment, the act of breaking the ties with an abusive parent who does not accept his identity.

It is important to be aware of why Elizabeth or Tibany was so offensive, whilst Yamato feels progressive. Transgender women in media are often presented as predatory, as if they were men in dresses who only want to prey on young men, and Elizabeth is a prime example of the worst of this transmysogynistic stereotype. Had this character been on their lonesome, along a multitude of other transgender women with different body types, and had Elizabeth not been predatory, this would be a fine character. Transgender women and transfem people as a whole should not feel guilty to exhibit as much body hair as they like, and to have as deep of a voice as they like, without worry of being mocked or ridicule. 

… Or, without issue, so far.

Sanji appears to be on a direct collision course for one Young Master Yamato, which puts a lot of anxiety into LGBTQ+ readers. Rightfully so, as in the past, Sanji has been used as a vehicle for horrific transphobia in the series, as touched on by the One Piece Podcast in text and in audio. This alone brings up multiple concerns - the most worrying of all is the possibility that Yamato has been a long setup for a particularly horrific transphobic punchline. The author, Eiichiro Oda, has been more than capable of writing transphobia into his series before, such as with the character Elizabeth (or Tibany, as this character is known in the manga), a transgender woman coded character who is a walking offensive stereotype - even acting in a predatory way towards young men. There is definitely a certain validity behind such worries.

But, when the only representation in this part of One Piece is predatory people with deep voices and stubble all over, you can see why this is completely different to Yamato exhibiting breasts and such.

(Chapter 543, page 1 of 20. First published in Weekly Shonen Jump 2009, issue 26 / Chapter 994, page 17 or 17, first published in Weekly Shonen Jump 2020, issue 48)

Another concerning path is that Sanji will see Yamato and fawn all over him - only for him to act horrified and disgusted upon hearing Yamato affirm that he is a man. During the infamous Fishman Island arc, Sanji had a life-saving blood transfusion given to him by two transgender-coded women - this alone was enough for him to start screaming and flipping himself around the bed in horror - a truly upsetting act of transmisogyny that many agree should never have been put in the series at all.

However, our combined worries may be for nothing. Oda has also written nonbinary and transgender characters who have been delightful to witness, and have been much accepted and adored by the LGBTQ+ community as a whole - Characters such as Bentham, a character who can shapeshift and monologues about their gender, or Kiku, a transgender woman in the current arc, who has been portrayed respectfully thus far, being in the series for almost 100 chapters. There is still hope that Oda has changed his ways from his dark Fishman Island Days.

In the most hopeful outcome, this meeting will serve as a character growth point - Sanji has matured as a character, and is ready to treat transgender people as human beings. This outcome seems tantalisingly possible to me, especially since characters will openly reffer to Yamato as male without issue.

(One Piece Chapter 979, page 14 of 17. First Published in Weekly Shonen Jump 2020, issue 23.)

Another hopeful outcome is that Sanji will simply not address it - but it certainly seems intentional that Oda has sent Sanji specifically towards Yamato, and I am certain that there is a reason. But, notably, Sanji had a meeting with Kiku in a similar vein, and nothing of note happened in that interaction.

I myself dearly hope that the day will not come where I look at this article and think, ‘This has aged horribly.’. I have a lot of faith in Eiichiro Oda to do the right thing - especially since almost 10 years has passed since his last major act of transphobia and transmisogyny. Surely, in today’s climate, and with the progressive nature of One Piece as a whole, he has learnt and is ready to write the LGBTQ+ characters that are respectful and progressive as a whole, without falling back on poor-taste punchlines.

As for now, only time will tell the true nature of Eiichiro Oda in 2021. Or, as many of us like to put it … "Who knows with this guy?!"

-

The Ohara Scholar / Róisí “Puppy” Law, 17th April 2021