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spiked-tea-writing · 3 years

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and they were roommates?!

SapnapxFem!Reader

Summary: Imagine being in love with your roommate, couldn't be you.

Pronouns: She/her

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 2.3k

A/n: I don’t watch or know anything, I just like these people and I had a concept. Also, he and Dream aren’t roommates in this for the sake of I can’t figure that out. Also also, my timeline is probably fucked but who cares

The dynamic in the apartment was...interesting to say the least

In the two years of living together, it had shifted a lot

In the beginning, you and Sapnap had been... less than cordial to each other

Both eighteen, fresh out of high school, off to college thinking that you knew everything.

There was lots of fighting, to say the least.

All of the “No it’s your turn to vacuum”, and “I swear to god Sapnap I will punt you halfway across the world if you eat my pineapple again”

The only reason you didn’t slit each other’s throats was that if the other person was dead, who would pay rent?

It was the summer before college started at the time, and you were working long hours minimum wage so coming]’/ home to an annoying prick caused a crap ton of conflict

After a few months of being little bitches to each other, y’all got piss drunk in the apartment and it all just sorta fell apart

Got that good drunk therapy, spilling your deepest secrets

(y’all were underage but shhh)

So by the time college started, the two of you had become actual friends and started enjoying each others company

A few months into the friendship, you encouraged him to post the video of “Minecraft, but it’s Raining Cats and Dogs” on a whim

Lmao little did you know what you had created (we’ll get to that later)

You mocked his train of thought constantly, laughing at the timing of it all.

“Ahhh yes, I am Sapnap, the genius who thought it’d be great to become a YouTuber while in my first year of college.”

He’d always just laugh and roll his eyes, playfully shoving you while stealing your chips.

The next few months were a haze of studying, work, and him.

It was truly a friendship of convenience since you guys were so busy, him starting his youtube career, and you working restaurants, then school on top of that, it was just easy to find friendship in your roommate.

Of course, he had his close friends which he spoke to over the internet, and you had your friends from back home, but as for college, it really was only him.

You guys had a fun time just hanging around the apartment, and it became so easy to be friends with him

And it WAS truly platonic (we’ll get back to that as well)

The best thing he brought to the friendship was his animals

You got on fabulously with Cash and the cats

They were all so cuddly and honestly loved you more than him lmao

You guys were just trying to get degrees and not be too stupid, was that too much to ask???

Well to a certain 2020, it was

The beginning of that year was great.

He was sorta realizing that he liked putting himself on social media, but on top of that, it seemed like a great start to a year.

February brought him to twitch, which you loved

You found it hilarious how he would just sorta play games and have people watch him live.

But you were incredibly supportive, as a friend, of course

He really liked it so, you tried to ignore the shouting at three am, and the loud anthems at night

Sure you’d give him hell in the morning, but why kill his fun?

March started great, as it was his birthday.

You got him a glittery lighter as a gag, but it was the perfect gift for a broke-ass college student

Then a certain pandemic came a-knockin’ on y’all’s door

It was a hard hit on both of you.

An executive decision was made that you two would stay put, but being away from your families was incredibly tough.

That spring was the birth of The SMP.

It brought him so much joy, which in turn made you happier.

The rest of the school year was a blur of zooms and test

Nick nearly killed you on multiple occasions when you made fun of the fact that he was learning computer science over the computer or made him help you figure out what the fuck zoom was since it was tangentially related to his major

“SAP HELP ME YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS ITS YOUR FUCKING MAJOR!!!”

“NO, IT’S- AHHHHHHHHH”

Yall got more than a handful of noise complaints shhhh

That summer was fill was spent trying to fill the time in weird ways

Note to self, he can’t cook (which you learned the hard way)

Yall spent so much time trying to cook and bake, then sweating off the calories working out with The Fitness Marshall lmao

As sucky as the situation was, that summer was so incredibly fun for the both of you, and truthfully the only arguments were about what music to blast

“Y/n I swear if I listen to Cosmicandy one more time I will drown you.”

“Well if I hear American Idiot one more time someone’s knee caps are getting harvested.”

(that argument was settled with Elton John.)

When school started up again that fall, something shifted

After a year of actual friendship, you guys were no longer just friends, and the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife

You had watched every single one of his streams since day one, but within 2 seconds of his Love or Host, you felt the need to hurl for some peculiar reason

It was bizarre because there was no way you could ever like him, of course not.

Within the apartment, you guys suddenly got a lot more touchy, but only because it was getting cold with winter and all that jazz.

It wasn’t because yall were secretly in love, what is this, a romcom?

The number of times you guys woke up on the couch, definitely not cuddling was too many to count

You started sitting in his room while he streamed, definitely not watching him with heart eyes because of how excited he got

He always had a pot of coffee full and a 6-pack of monster in the fridge since he knew you ran on spite and caffeine, and definitely not so that he could spend more time with you in the early hours of the morning.

The laundry started getting all mixed around, resulting in just sharing any sweats, hoodies, or socks.

The same thing went for food.

No longer was anything labeled with a name, if it was in the fridge, it was fair game (unless there was a post-it because come on, yall weren’t monsters)

But no, y’all were just roommates, not dating, lets make that clear.

Feelings? We don’t know her.

This entire time, his friends have had to hear about you rip.

But they got front row seats to your relationship development

“OMG my roommate is the worst she ate all of the frozen strawberries”

“Y/n kidnapped Storm all day while she studied and I thought I lost the fucking cat asjvdk”

“I had to run down and talk to the landlord because we dropped a pot of pasta sauce all over the carpet and couldn’t get the damn stain out.”

“She is so nice in preparation for a family dinner zoom, she ran out to the local Filipino food place and pick stuff up.”

“Sorry I’m late I overslept and didn’t want to wake up Y/n.”

They weren’t stupid, and could clearly see how whipped he was.

Dream and Geroge teased him about it constantly.

“Woah, calm down Sap, you should probably tell her you love her before you propose.”

“Yeah Dream’s right, it’s kinda weird that you’re living together before ever dating.”

He always flushed and denied it with a shake of his head.

He wasn’t into you, are they crazy?

Quackity and Karl messed with him in more unorthodox ways

There are a solid number of clips where they are fake crying over how he’s cheating on them, and even more tweets to match

It only got worse when you met them accidentally.

He was chatting post-stream on a video channel with George, Dream, Karl, and Quackity, and just his luck, you came into his room.

Like of all the times you could walk in, it was the time he was with his five closest friends but I digress

“Yo I got some extra tips yesterday so I picked up some extra Red Bull if you want to do one of your weird all-nighter streams.”

“Y/n I’m on channel.”

“Oh shit sorry my b. Catch.”

All the guys heard was a thud and a groan from Sapnap as the six-pack hit him in the chest.

Dream was the one to recognize your name.

“WAIT IS THAT Y/N I WANT TO MEET THEM!”

You could hear Dream’s voice through his headphones

“Sap… who is that?”

“No one. I’ll be out in a sec to help with dinner.”

You could hear a British voice come through.

“Oh so we are no one now, huh.”

Another voice piped through.

“Common... ¿Qué intentas ocultar?”

You cut in.

“Your headset it shit my guy. I can hear everything. I’m down to talk to them.”

He let out a groan.

“Fine. But you’re gonna have to do the dishes tonight.”

“Deal. Now move.”

“What? No.”

“Fine bitch.”

You collapsed onto his lap, plucking the headphones off of him.

“Hello, Sapnap’s friends. I am Y/n. A pleasure to meet y’all. Can you hear me?”

You heard a series of laughs through the headset, and a voice came through.

“Yes, we can see you too. I’m Karl, it’s so nice to finally meet his girlfriend.”

A blush rose on both of your faces, and another voice came through.

“Yeah, we’ve heard lots about you. Plus we can’t see your face in that picture Sap sent us. I’m Quackity”

That remark stopped your embarrassment in its tracks.

“What the fuck? How do you guys know me? I’m not even his girlfriend? And what picture?”

Sapnap grabbed your arm to calm you down as another voice cut in, but his one you recognized as his friend Dream.

“Hey, it’s okay. He just talks about you a bit, and the picture I believe was of you holding like three cats with like a red bull can on your head.”

“Jesus fucking christ why do they have that photo??”

He looked guilty but chuckled.

“Because that photo is a damn masterpiece.”

Karl’s voice came back in with a giggled.

“Soooo, Y/n we’d love to hear about you. Specifically anything funny or embarrassing that you have learned by living with him.”

Sapnap let out a groan from behind you as you went off.

“WELL lemme tell y’all, he has no cooking knowledge, well I mean, now he does, but one time, about a year ago, I had I been keeping a pot of water boiling for about an hour, soft boiling eggs, cooing noodles, blanching bok choy, etc. but this fucking genius is like ‘oH tHe HaNdLe Is StIcKiNg OuT. LeMmE mOvE iT wItH mY bArE hAnD.’ Needless to say, he burnt the crap outta his hand and kept the bag of frozen blueberries on it for the entire night. It took me like a solid five seconds to actually help him because I was laughing.”

By the time you had finished that story, you had seen Nick roll his eyes like 5 five times while the rest of the guys were wheezing.

“Yeah, well remember the time you were trying to imitate Rapunzel after we had watched it over Zoom with my sister, and you swung the edge of the frying pan into our head and got a nasty bump on it? At least I moved quick enough to put some ice on it.”

“Ice? It was the damn leftover Slushy that I had been freezing.”

“True, but you got to drink it after, so it was a win-win situation.”

“Sap, I had a bump the size of a golfball coming off of my temple. There was no winning.”

“Fine, you’re just making me sound like such a shit roommate.”

“No that’s not true, you do all of the talking to the landlord, and you at least tried to muffle the noise when you stream.”

“I guess that’s true, but you do like 80% of the cleaning.”

“Yeah but only because you’re working. Plus in the past 6 months, you’ve made coffee every morning, AND made sure I was taking my meds.”

“Those things aren’t that hard and I do it to make sure you don’t die because I lo- care about you.”

“What?”

You heard Dream’s wheeze laugh and remembered that you guys were still on call.

“Smooth.”

You both went red, and Sap moved his arm around you to leave the channel.

The next few moments were complete torture, the two of you just sitting in silence.

You were wondering if he meant what he was about to say and he was scared that you had heard it.

He was the one to break the silence. (mind you you’re still sitting on his lap lmao)

“I’m sorry about that.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. Should you ask him if he meant it? Because that wouldn’t be that bad. Or just pretend it never happened. Nah that’d be hella awkward. Or-

“I love you too.”

“You what?”

Wow, okay your brain is being a little bitch rn, but fuck it. Balls to the walls baby.

“I love you, and I have for a while now. I just want you to know.”

You finally looked him in the eye, and he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Thank god. I love you, and nearly fucking told you for the first time in front of my friends accidentally. Damn, I’m smooth.”

You laughed and he smiled wider.

“Can I kiss you?”

After a quick nod he swooped in and holy hell his lips felt great. His arm wound around your waist and your hands made their way to his jaw as he pulled you closer to him.

The only thing playing in your mind was “and they were roommates”

#sapnap x reader #sapnap #sapnapxreader #sapnap fluff #sapnap fanfic #sapnap fanfiction #sapnap x you #sapnap x y/n

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holyhellpod · 3 years

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4. Fambily

In this episode, we skim the surface of the fambily dynamics in Supernatural, which are--ah. Dicey at best.

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Transcript under the cut!

Content warnings: domestic violence and family abuse

[Growl]

Ah, the Winchesters. Where do we even start. Unhinged, deranged, and continually traumatised in every way, Sam and Dean complete each other. At least, that’s what the show wants us to think. Despite the ways they betray each other, lie to each other, and piss each other off, they are fambily. And fambily is the most important thing. The concept of Fambily in the show Supernatural (2005-2020) takes many twists and turns throughout its run. In the first five minutes of episode one, the heteronormative, nuclear family of John, Mary, Sam and Dean is ripped apart by an unknown, antagonistic force that represents all the evil in the world. It creeps into a nursery and eviscerates a white, blonde mother while preying upon a 👶, I mean, how much more evil can you get? It’s fantastic that, in the later seasons especially, Supernatural embraces this idea that fambily doesn’t end in blood, but blood doesn’t always mean fambily. By the end of the series, the fambily concept has expanded to include two dads, an aunt and uncle, and a thirty-year old infant. I’m going to talk about the finale in its own episode, so that my ire will have its proper outlet.

When the show starts, Sam, Dean and John have each other, and only each other. By the time season 2 really kicks off, Sam and Dean don’t have John anymore, but they do have Bobby Singer. The concept of the triumvirate follows them throughout the series as though they’re in a less sexy Italo Calvino novel—first Sam, Dean and John, then Sam, Dean and Bobby, then Sam, Dean and Ruby, then Sam, Dean and Cas, then Sam, Dean and Mary, then Sam, Dean and Jack. It’s broken in seasons 13-15 when Cas comes back and they have a family of four, and then five when Mary can stand to see her boys.

But the Winchesters are not the only fambily in Supernatural who matter. In season two, we’re introduced to the Harvelles, mother Ellen and daughter Jo, who are a hunting fambily who run a hunter pub in the middle of whoop whoop. A pub that Eric Kripke famously hated, and rejoiced when he burnt it down at the end of season 2, because the Winchesters and by extension everyone they know aren’t allowed to have anything good ever. It’s revealed in season two episode “No Exit” that John got Jo’s father killed on a hunt, which obviously affects Jo more than it does Sam and Dean.

[Editing note:] Okay I’m editing this episode, and I’m not happy with it. I’m not going to scrap it completely because I think I do have good points to say, but the general analysis of this episode is so surface level. It is basically contributing nothing to the conversation. And I started this podcast in order to actually contribute something to the culture. I could make a bunch of text posts on tumblr or I could spend hours and hours and hours and hours of my life to something that — I don’t know. Is it bringing me joy? Not at the moment. But, yeah. So I’m not going to scrap this episode completely but this is my way of saying from now on the episodes are going to take as much as they will take and I will commit myself to having deeper and more thoughtful analysis. And if I have to spend an entire episode on one aspect of one thing, I will. I could be at university right now studying a masters or a PhD in fucking literary analysis but instead I’m sitting on my bed making a Supernatural podcast because it brings me joy. It does. It really makes me happy and I don’t want to abandon this project, because people are listening to it. I don’t know why, I don’t know what you like it about it, but you’re listening. And I just think I owe it to myself to make things that I support 100%. So I’ll continue this episode and hopefully this rambling hasn’t put you off it completely. But from now on, I’m going to really, really talk about things that matter in regards to Supernatural… Kind of an oxymoron. Kind of a contradiction. But things that contribute to the cultural consciousness instead of just rehashing the road so far. That’s all I want to do. I want to contribute. I want to say good…ful things. Okay this is making me happy. It’s already working, it’s already making me happy. I’m just going to keep rambling and laughing. Okay so, more thoughtful analysis, deeper analysis. Things that make you think. Things that make me think. Instead of just a bunch of words that mean nothing. Okay, continuing on.

Okay to figure out which episode this was I had to watch a little bit of season two, and I’m still on my season 13 rewatch. The difference between the two seasons. I don’t know if I can even put into words the growth this show has gone through, and the characters have gone through, over the last 15 years. It would be like summarising my own growth by combing through my extensive diary collection and the years of societally- and governmentally-enforced heterosexuality that has plagued my entire life. Those boys are babies in season two. The bootcut jeans alone. Sam is literally 23 years old. I don’t even talk to 23 year olds. I block them on social media.

The Harvelles are a blip in the Winchester map. While the actors Samantha Ferris and Chad Lindberg did attempt to resuscitate their cultural currency months after the show ended by participating in an event — okay I can’t. I can’t even go into it. Like, clearly Samantha Ferris heard back from her representation as soon as she started posting those tweets and realised she wouldn’t continue to get money if she endorsed, well, the gays. And Chad Lindberg was just using the clout to push his Etsy wares like a 14th century merchant, so I gotta respect the hustle. But Jo and Ellen die in season 5 episode “Abandon All Hope” and are barely mentioned again except the episode Ash appears in, season 5 “Dark side of the moon,” Jo in season 7, “Defending Your Life,” and Ellen in the season 6 episode “My heart will go on.” They didn’t exactly leave what you would call a lasting impact for the next, you know, ten seasons.

To be honest, I’m not sure when it’s revealed that Bobby’s wife died after being possessed by a demon. It’s made clear in season 5 “Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid,” and I did not have to look that up, because season four and five are burned into my retinas like a particularly nasty sun flare. Bobby outlines the horrific way he killed his wife, because why not throw some spousal violence into the mix, and later in season 7 “Death’s Door,” it elaborates on their life together. I saw this sentiment expressed on TikTok, which we all know as the foundation of cultural knowledge, which was that fambilies don’t need to be two parents and children. Fambilies can be spouses or partners. You don’t need to have children in order to be a fambily. I think that’s a very nice sentiment and I’ve chosen to adopt it for these purposes. Bobby and his wife Karen are a fambily. While Karen wants kids, Bobby chooses not to have them for fear of becoming like his father and repeating the trauma he inflicted on Bobby. Bobby and Karen’s fambily dynamic is ruptured in the same way that John and Mary’s is—by an intrusive, demonic force that brings Bobby into the hunting world and ends Karen’s life. But by the time we see him at the end of season 1, Bobby is already ingratiated into Sam and Dean’s lives as their surrogate father, and this bond only deepens as the show progresses. Bobby expresses the sentiment to Dean to not be like John, that Dean is already a better man that his father ever was. Isn’t that what we all want to hear? That we have superseded our parents and outgrown them in ways they could never comprehend? Don’t we just want to be better than the generations that came before us, in order to mould a better world for the generations that come after us? Don’t we want to make things easier for our children, and our friends’ children, and our siblings’ children? Dean is a better man than John, and Bobby is better man than his father ever was. It’s about breaking the cycles of intergenerational trauma. I have to believe that Sam, Dean and Bobby did this, because then it’s possible for me to do the same thing. Include here that speech about representation in media that I didn’t bother writing for the last episode. Bobby is the surrogate father to Sam and Dean, a better father than John was, a better hunter even. He crafts an entire network of hunters who report to him, as seen in the season 6 episode “Weekend at Bobby’s,” and he continues to act as Sam and Dean’s mentor until his death in season 7 “How to win friends and influence monsters”. An alternate universe version of Bobby is introduced in season 13, which I have my reservations about, and he and Mary get together, which again, why. Season 13 is so hard to sit through.

A fambily that is introduced late into the series and is simply NOT given enough screen time is the Banes fambily. In season 12, “Celebrating the life of Asa Fox,” we are introduced to the Banes twins, Max and Alicia, who are by far the most gorgeous hunters we’ve seen in the series. They are hunters raised by a witch, Tasha Banes, who doesn’t appear yet, and they manage to survive the trial by fire that is overcoming the demon Jael. Later in this season, in the episode “Twigs and Twane and Tasha Banes,” both of which are written by the late great Steve Yockey, we are introduced to Tasha in a way that seems awfully familiar: Alicia calls Sam to say their mother has gone missing on a hunt, and hasn’t checked in in a few days. By the end of the episode, Alicia and Tasha are dead, and Max has ostensibly sold his soul for the power to bring Alicia back. The Banes twins’ storyline directly parallels Sam and Dean’s from the pilot, but it’s a tragedy from the outset. We already know Tasha is dead and they can’t save her, however, like Dean does for Sam at the end of season 2, Max chooses to save Alicia at the expense of his own soul. Spin off when. Banes twins series when. I’m waiting. They were in two episodes and I’m still thinking about them. The Harvelles are dust.

In season 7, “Reading is Fundamental,” a waifish 17 year old honour’s student Kevin Tran breaks into a rehabilitation facility to steal a tablet. This starts a chain of events that ingratiates Kevin Tran in the apocalyptic, death-succumbing world of the Winchesters, starting with Dick Roman, head leviathan, and continuing, but not culminating, with his death at the hands of Gadreel, who was possessing Sam, it’s a whole thing. Any time you attempt to summarise anything on Supernatural, you sound like a lunatic. And I say that as someone who has a supernatural podcast, with an audience of only supernatural fans. We are lunatics, but we’re lunatics together. Kevin’s arc was cut way too short, but we at least got to see him with his momma Linda in the beginnings of season 8 with the unfortunately named episode “What’s up, Tiger Mommy?” It introduces Linda Tran as a capable and worldly woman, hell bent on protecting her son. She offers up her soul among other things in exchange for Kevin and the tablet with him. During the episode, she is possessed by Crowley, and Dean attempts to kill him, which would mean killing Linda as well. Kevin considers this the ultimate betrayal and leaves with his mum. Later in season 9 episode “Captives,” Linda is reintroduced as a captive of Crowley, who escapes with Sam’s help. Back at the bunker, she reunites with Kevin, who is now, thanks to the Winchesters’ incompetence, a ghost 👻. My macbook keeps suggesting little emojis in the smart bar so I just gotta put ‘em in. That’s the last we see of Linda, so I’m drawing my own conclusions about whether she gets to live a long and happy life. Kevin is a fan favourite and despite my reservations about Osric Chau which I will not get into like ever I really like Kevin too. He outsmarts Crowley many times and shows remarkable tenacity to get an impossible job done. His desire to see his mum again, the driving force behind his actions, mirrors Dean’s desperation to have his fambily together again like they used to be. I would call this a parallel but I don’t believe they purposefully did this, I just think they accidentally rehashed the same tired storyline they’ve been peddling since 2005. But yeah, if I was Kevin and all I had was my mum, seeing her again would be the driving force for my actions as well. Kevin’s father is never mentioned, and it honestly isn’t a big deal, which is great. Sometimes fathers are just absent, and you don’t need throw a hissy fit about it or make it your entire personality, Dean.

Missouri Moseley, played by the inimitable Loretta Devine, is introduced in the first season, episode “Home,” in which she helps out on a case involving Sam and Dean’s childhood house. We find out that Missouri is a long-time friend of John’s and helped him to understand that supernatural forces were behind Mary’s death. She is Sam and Dean’s first point of entry into the world of the Supernatural, and they didn’t know it until they meet her in “Home”. In season 13 episode “Patience,” another layer to Missouri’s character is added with the advent of her family: estranged son James and granddaughter Patience Turner, who is also a psychic. We get a lot of backstory for Missouri in this episode, even if it is sloppily written and contradictory to the way they initially set her up. If Missouri and James had been travelling when he was a child, why was she stationed in Lawrence in both 1983 and 2005? What did he mean that Missouri was hunting? I can’t be bothered unpacking the confusing bits of information presented in this episode. It’s not a good episode and I really don’t see why everyone goes apeshit for Bobo Berens. He kills Missouri in this episode, in a really horrible way. Like the history of Supernatural’s racism and misogyny should not be dumped on one man, but nor should it be perpetuated and it is continually throughout the entire show. Confusing, contradictory and badly written backstory aside, she is an interesting character, and her willingness to sacrifice herself to save her family echoes that of Mary in “Home”. I’m actually really mad that Patience never gets to have a relationship with Missouri, and later in season 13 episode “The Bad Place,” Patience’s father tells her that if she leaves to help The Winchesters and uses her psychic abilities, she’s not welcome back in his house. To me that’s just unnecessary. We have a family that has already been ruptured by the death of Patience’s mother, further ruptured by Patience’s father cutting off contact with Missouri, and then to go a step further he disintegrates their family unit by kicking Patience out. Like how much loss do the Moseley-Turners have to endure? It’s really just cruel at this point. But Patience does find family with Jodie, Donna, Claire, Alex and eventually Kaia, and while I love the concept of found family and this found family in particular, it comes at the expense of biological family, which is something that the show has pushed from the very first episode. So that’s evolution in itself. Going from “fambily is the most important thing to these characters” to “found fambily is where we find love” is great, but ripping apart a biological fambily like the Moseley-Turners, and indeed starting the episode by saying Missouri has been shunted out of her son and granddaughter’s lives for trying to bring her son comfort, is just fucked. Like, I couldn’t name a single Bobo episode that I actually like without having to comb through them. I’m trying really hard not to shit all over him because as a writer I know how much that sucks and I know how hard is it for any marginalised writers to get a start, but I’m allowed to have my vendettas.

If you’ve watched the “Runs In The Family” angels MV from 2010, and only if you’ve watched the “Runs In The Family” angels MV from 2010, you will understand just how jacked up the angel family really is. The angelic counterpoint to Sam and Dean are the archangels Lucifer and Michael. We are introduced to two different versions of Michael—one in season 5, who possesses their dad in 1979 and their brother Adam in 2010—my god that was literally over a decade ago—and Apocalypse World Michael, played by four different actors: Felisha Terrell, Christian Keyes, Jensen Ackles, and Ruth Connell, who plays Rowena. I don’t know what in the hell Jensen Ackles was doing performance-wise when playing Michael, but I consider it a federal crime akin to drug trafficking or money laundering. As for Christian Keyes playing Michael, Andrew Dabb, you know what you did and you’re going to have to live with that.

In season 5, during the apocalypse, Michael and Lucifer only interact in the last episode, “Swan Song,” but the entire season is built around their conflict. Lucifer disobeyed their father, and Michael as God’s most powerful weapon must defeat him. It’s meant to mirror Sam’s descent into, uhhhh, badness or something, disobeying John to run away to Stanford, or, like, drinking demon blood? It’s unclear. Lucifer and Apocalypse World Michael interact in season 13, and Michael kills Lucifer only to take over Dean’s body and start a season-long arc of, like, bad acting and barely thought-out plots. I would say to Jensen Ackles “don’t quit your day job,” but this is literally his day job.

The angels as they’re introduced in season 4 are warriors of god, and all they know is obedience and killing. Even Cas can’t break out of the cycle of killing his angel siblings, and often justifies it by saying that it’s for the greater good, that he needs to do it to take down a stronger force like Raphael or Metatron. Anna manages to break free of her family by falling and becoming human, but when Cas betrays her and the angels capture her, she is lobotomised, tortured and sent back out to kill Sam. Then she’s burned to a crisp by Michael possessing John, not the last time a woman would burn to death on this show. The angels are dysfunctional at best, and actively hostile to each other, especially Castiel, the infamous spanner in the works. I could write an entire academic paper about how the angels think of Castiel as this rebel slut who murdered his way to the top and is going to be the downfall of angel kind, but Dean thinks of him as this little nerdy guy with a harp he carries around in his back pocket. Which honestly Cas would love because he’s obsessed with Dean and wants to touch his butt. I don’t know what else I can say about the angels without turning this into a dissertation, so I’ll continue on.

While all seasons of the show are about family, season six is especially about matrilineal family. It introduces the concept of the mother of monsters—Eve—and focuses on Mary as a solution to the loneliness the characters feel after her death. Samuel Campbell, Mary’s father, is brought back to life and manipulated by the promise of seeing his daughter again. He asks Sam and Dean what they wouldn’t do to see Mary again, which is kind of the general thesis of the show. What wouldn’t John, Dean and Sam do for each other? Dean sells his soul. John makes a deal with the demon who killed Mary. Sam teams up with Ruby to kill Lilith in revenge, which begins as a suicide mission because he doesn’t know how to handle his grief for Dean. The difference is that Samuel betrays Sam and Dean, his own grandchildren, for the promise of seeing Mary again. This cardinal sin alienates him from being a good guy, because good guys never betray Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean are our protagonists! Our heroes! The bringers of the light! The knights in shining armour! The white on rice. The cherry in cherry pie. They are the ones we’re meant to align ourselves with, because it’s their story the narrative is telling. And anyone who doesn’t align themselves with the Winchesters is an enemy who needs to be defeated.

We’re introduced to the character of Gwen in the first episode of season 6, “Exile on Main Street”, and she says in the episode “Family Matters” that Samuel, the patriarch, doesn’t like her very much because she reminds him of Mary. While Samuel, Christian, Gwen and co are technically family, Dean has no connection to them past bloodlines. And as I said before, while family doesn’t end in blood, we learn throughout this season that blood doesn’t always mean family. Gwen dies in the episode “And Then There Were None,” because of course she does, and Mary doesn’t come back, at least not in this season.

In “Family Matters,” the alpha vampire, played by the irreplaceable Rick Worthy, mentions that “we all have our mothers,” referring to Eve, the mother of monsters, the one who spawned every other monster and who has been trapped in purgatory ever since. Eve is pulled from Purgatory to wage war against the hunters and Crowley because they have been preying on her first borns, the alphas. I love Eve. I love her. She’s my favourite villain after Metatron. Mainly because I think she is like… sexy as hell. Like wow I am just so attracted to Julia Maxwell and this, like, bored smokey affect thing she does where she barely moves her mouth when she speaks and her strong brow makes her seem so intimidating. I don’t know anything about her personally, but I feel like she would’ve bullied me in high school, and I’m into it. It’s really hard to judge just from this one role whether she’s a good actor because Eve has such limited range and few things to do, but I really wish she’d gotten more screen time. Yeah, she’s doing the bare minimum and I’m completely obsessed. But Eve isn’t just a monster, she’s literally THEE milf. The original milf. And I really think she should’ve stayed around, but since they kept Lisa alive they had to kill at least one high profile woman.

Continuing with the family storylines in season 6, Dean tries to establish a family with Lisa and Ben, and for the most part succeeds. He gets a job, plays the role of the doting boyfriend and stepfather, and protects them as best he can. I’m going to spare you the rant perched at the tip of my tongue about how this is at best a lavender marriage or staying together for the kid, and that Lisa only exists to be an ideal for Dean, not an actual partner he can grow with throughout the rest of the show. It’s his first attempt at a fambily outside of Sam, Bobby and John, and it fails miserably because Lisa isn’t a good match. The fact is, she will never be able to fit into the hunting world because of the way the writers wrote her—as mother and girlfriend archetype, and we’ve seen how well they do with those—in fact they actively paralleled it in “Exile on Main Street” where they had Dean hallucinate Azazel coming back and pinning Lisa to the ceiling. It couldn’t be more obvious that they don’t respect her. At least they didn’t fridge her for Dean’s man pain. It’s honestly horrible because Dean put so much effort into believing this was his one chance at happiness, and when it crumbles like a tim tam in hot tea he beats himself up for it and uses it as an excuse to never be happy.

He does seem to be happy for the most part with Lisa, but because Sera Gamble doesn’t know how to write interesting or complex female characters, when Sam reenters the picture it once again becomes about the original premise: two brothers on the road, fighting the forces of evil. There’s no room for any women in that sphere. Up until this point I think—correct me if I’m wrong—there has been one female hunter who survived, and she was in one episode. The hunter Tamara in season 3 “The Magnificent Seven,” whose husband died in maybe the most sadistic way anyone has died on this show. Don’t rewatch it, just google it. All women die, including Mary, their mother, who is brought back in season 12 and killed in season 14. AND FOR WHAT? For WHAT Andrew Dabb.

Often, the loss of a parent, child or significant other is used to excuse bad behaviour and terrible choices. The hunting life causes Mary’s whole family to die before she can escape it, and because she makes a deal with Azazel for John’s life, the same demon John makes a deal with, Azazel kills her anyway. John abused his kids and brought them into the hunting life, because he was obsessed with getting revenge for Mary’s death. Sam does the same thing when Jess dies in the first season, and it starts a 15-season long arc of pain and misery. He sets Lucifer free in the season four because he is obsessed with getting revenge for Dean’s death and obsessed with the power drinking demon blood gives him. Then again, Sam is actually right for saving people by exorcising demons, which is literally the first part of the family business motto, instead of just gutting them with the demon knife, but because Dean doesn’t agree with it, it’s bad. Sam always wants to do the right thing, he just gets a little caught up in the details. But you know what? Bloodfreak rights.

When Cas dies in season 13, Dean is so overcome with grief, a grief that echoes John and Sam’s, that he mistreats Jack and threatens to kill him. In season 14, Nick, Lucifer’s vessel, boo snore hiss, kills everyone involved with the murder of his wife and child before he finds out that it’s actually Lucifer’s doing, and then he tries to raise Lucifer from the empty because he’s addicted to killing? Whatever, stop employing Mark Pellegrino. Stop writing men as obsessed with getting revenge

The biological fambilies in Supernatural suck shit. Honestly every time I watch an episode about fambily I’m even more glad I don’t talk to mine. Dean and Sam need to spend some time away from each other, while they’re both still alive. Their fambily dynamic gets better as the show progresses, and I was pleased to see in season 12 that they do away with the codependency, constantly sacrificing themselves for each other, isolating themselves, betraying everyone they know for each other—they started to act like, you know, normal people. And that’s good. Sure, the show would not be anywhere without John sacrificing himself for Dean, and Dean sacrificing himself for Sam, and honestly that’s what made those first few seasons amazing. But after a while it becomes lazy writing, not parallels. A parallel that Supernatural pulled off is Sam comforting Magda in season 12 episode “The Survivor” in the way he needed to be comforted in season 1 and 2 as a psychic child. A parallel is Dean preparing Cas’s body for cremation in season 13 in counterpoint to the way Cas remade Dean’s body in season 4. This show can absolutely do parallels, some of the most beautiful parallels ever put on screen, but the last season was such lazy writing that I cannot forgive it.

This has been an overall negative episode of Holy Hell, and that sucks. I don’t want to be so negative. I want to talk about the good things that Supernatural did, and share in joy with you all, so now I’m going to talk about the only positive I see with fambily in the entire show.

For Dean, everyone older than him is a parent to disappoint, and everyone younger than him is a little sibling to protect. Cas is the exception, as there’s no way to define Dean and Cas’s relationship without acknowledging the reciprocal romantic ways they care about each other. Dean says on multiple occasions that Cas is like a brother to him, and that he’s Sam and Dean’s best friend. He actually drops the line, “After Sam and Bobby, you are the closest thing I have to family,” on Cas in season 6, and he acts like it’s nothing, but you can see in the expression on Cas’s face that Dean just recontextualised the entirety of Cas’s being in one sentence. Cas falls for Dean, gives up his family for Dean, and decides to follow him in the first act of free will we see on screen. And Dean, who has never known love without pain, says to Cas, you are fambily to me, I actively choose you, you belong in my life. But to belong in Dean’s life is to follow his plan, and when Cas doesn’t, he is punished for his hubris. Dean loves him, and he never even admits it.

Charlie becomes like a little sister to Dean, as does Jo. Jack is unequivocally Cas’s son, but becomes something of Dean’s son as well and some would argue Sam’s son. Claire becomes Cas’s daughter, but imprints so much on Dean that many, myself included, have come to consider Dean her father as well. If you subscribe to the idea that Dean and Cas are old marrieds, Dean would be Claire and Jack’s stepfather, and they would be a nuclear fambily all on their own. In season 14 “Lebanon,” when John says to Dean that he thought Dean would have settled down with a fambily, Dean says, “I have a fambily.” Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps.

Cas chooses to be a part of Claire’s life in season 10 “The Things We Left Behind” because he feels guilty about what happened to her after he possessed Jimmy, but after getting to know Claire he cares for her. The crime that is Claire and Cas not interacting after season 10, my god. That’s his daughter, you ghouls. But Claire and Dean do get more moments together. Dean, Sam and some British guy save Claire from turning into a werewolf, and Claire and the rest of the Wayward Sisters save Sam and Dean from the Bad Place. The Wayward Sisters are a found fambily all on their own, and since I could devote an entire episode to Jody’s little brood, I have chosen not to talk about them much, because this episode is at least half an hour, 34 minutes, and it would take up too much of my time. Claire is one of my favourite characters and I’ll be talking about her in the next ep, so stay tuned for that.

Even before Jack is born, Cas becomes his protector. He goes from trying to convince Kelly to end her and Jack’s life, to being her pseudo-husband and the surrogate father to her child. To me personally, it’s the best thing this show has ever done. Cas, Kelly and Jack love each other in a way that is so wholly uncomplicated, that is so pure and so good. Once Cas becomes Jack’s protector, there’s never any question of whether they would hurt or betray each other. He is Cas’s son, his baby boy, and he loves Cas so much that he resurrects Cas from the empty. When they meet for the first time in season 13 “Tombstone” after Cas comes back, they fit into each other’s lives so easily. This is the part in writing this where I was absolutely sobbing my dick off. There are so many moments between them that show the kind of love that each of these characters deserved. Sam and Dean deserve to have that love from their father, and so does Cas. And together they build a family unit around caring for Jack that does indeed end the intergenerational trauma that plagues the Winchester fambily.

And that’s why season 16 is so important to me. I can make things better. Dean sorts his shit out, all of his shit: his alcoholism, depression, ADHD, borderline personality disorder, suicidal ideation, sexuality, gender, the fact that Cas is literally the love of his life and he gets to save him from the Empty the way Cas saved him from Hell. They plant flowers in the field where Dean spread Cas’s ashes in season 13, and they get married at Jody’s cabin with all their loved ones left alive. Claire walks Cas down the aisle and Jack is the flower girl, because he’s literally a three year old baby. Sam and Eileen raise a bunch of rugrats and the Wayward fambily continue the hunting legacy and have a Sunday afternoon roast every week. Dean and Cas raise Jack right, they cut up oranges for soccer practice and watch all his school plays. He and his cousins grow up knowing what it’s like not only to be loved, but to be looked after, to have all their needs met. They grow up normal, and the trauma that plagued their family is a thing of the past. It’s good, you know? It’s just fucking good.

#transcripts #episodes #supernatural #spn

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cheuwing · 3 years

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First of all: Thank you very much for your metas! I have a question about the role of Greg in tjlc. What exactly is he doing? Is he a good one or a baddy? Any space for Mystrade in tjlc?

Hello dear,

Thank you so much for your message! I was surprised to receive a question after such a long absence (a very nice surprise!). I don’t know if you’ll read my answer; hopefully it will find you well. :)

It is a very interesting question... I haven’t rewatched every single episode with a focus on Greg (I might do it later!), so feel free to take my view with a pinch of salt.

First of all: I adore Gavin Greg Lestrade! He is such an amazing, complex character in the series. I believe it is clear that Greg is on the good side. Actually, I think each character mentioned on the rooftop scene as targeted by Moriarty is explicitly good: John Watson, Mrs Hudson, Greg Lestrade. (Every other speculation is fair game, but these three are unquestionably good) The show never questions their loyalty either. Greg might be disgrunted sometimes, but he’s always there to help and support Sherlock (the “maximum back up” scene at the beginning of TSOT comes to mind). Furthermore, he is the very first one who talks about Sherlock’s side: “Sherlock Holmes is a great man, and I think one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one.” To me, these elements prove without the shadow of a doubt that Greg is, in fact, good.

Also, according to Sherlock:

That’s all the proof I need! x)

Now, regarding Greg’s role in TJLC... My personal opinion is that he serves as a mirror. Typically, a mirror for Sherlock:

detective, keen on solving cases,

clever,

good coat, and similar clothes in general,

quits cigarettes at the same time as Sherlock (showing their matching patches in ASIP), both are seen with - unlit - cigarettes in their mouth in s3,

willing to bend the rules a little bit to solve his cases - namely by calling a “consulting detective”,

blunt and a bit ruthless (his introduction scene in which he is uncomfortable, possibly annoyed, in front of the media and deadpans “Don’t commit suicide” while Sally plays Watson’s role as social facilitator)

solving a case or saving a friend is more important than taking credit,

a bit of a drama queen (... that “maximum back up” scene comes to mind again xD),

lovely interactions with John in which they tend to be very honest and a bit arseholy (”NOT REALLY”)... (also: taking care of him and bringing Sherlock memorabilia in Many Happy Returns), a few moments of them working perfectly in sync (that action walk shot in HLV)

... among other things!

Interestingly, I think it’s fair to say that Greg is associated to John in some aspects (public servants, caring arseholes, both of them striving to guide Sherlock on the side of the angels, mindful of Sherlock’s emotions & thoughts process... Betrayed by their wives. Even on a visual level: action walk in HLV, shooting scene in THOB, in which, hilariously, even though John shoots second, he manages to catch his target => metaphors!!!)

I personally believe that Greg serves to show how a real, uncomplicated friendship with Sherlock (or John, for that matter) would work. He has no problem hugging him when he comes back (something John is unable to do, because he is overwhelmed with too many conflicting emotions... also, they’re not alone). Talking about emotions and such is easier between them too (Greg doesn’t hesitate to ask about John when Sherlock brings Molly for the case). They still bicker, argue and even play jokes on one another like John & Sherlock do (Lestrade never hesitates to film Sherlock on his phone, or to force him to wear a security blanket). Same goes between John & Lestrade: the friendship is much smoother/more wholesome than with Sherlock, because no one has to rein desire/unspoken emotions in. I mean, as @just-sort-of-happened highlighted it in this post: Greg provides a contrast to John's attraction to Sherlock.

So there you go: to me, Greg is a mirror for Sherlock and his interactions with both John & Sherlock serve as a contrast between the wholesome friendship that could be and the complicated relationship with lots of hidden desires, unspoken things and general sense of constrinct that these two have.

I also believe that Greg is a sort of mentor to them? He is the one who guides onto the right path, the one who is concerned, who is proud (his proud daddy expressions give me life), and I guess, who experiences things first (he has already worked on the cases before he presents them to Sherlock - and usually has failed -, he shoots the hound first - and fails -, he was married before John - and... you get the jist). I feel like Greg will start his grand relationship before Johnlock and in a sense, will show them the way.

As for the grand relationship in question... I love Mystrade. I really do. If it becomes canon, I’d be very happy. (Also, I could totally see Mark Gatiss thrilled to pose with Rupert Graves, his crush from Maurice, as his fictional lover ^^). Greg has been associated with John enough that I could see their relationship as a mirror for Johnlock. (and I certainly love this trope in fanfics!) I would be more than satisfied with Mystrade (also... if it happened after years of queerbaiting issues? two gay couples? with Gatiss, creator of the show, playing a character in a homosexual relationship? That could be pretty cool).

However, I have to say that I’m not really convinced it will happen in the show? It seems to me Mycroft is very much presented as an asexual character, or, at the very least, someone who doesn’t understand sex at all (the allusions with Lady Smallwood show how uncomprehending he is on the subject, and not just in a ‘gay man approached by a woman’ kind of way. Contrast with Sherlock in ASIP, being able to say ‘women are not my area’, ‘I know it’s fine’ and ‘while I’m flattered by your interest....’). In Sherlock’s mind palace, Mycroft serves as “the mind”, cold, logical, rational, in contrast to John “the heart”, emotion-focused, soft. In the Mayfly Man deduction, Mycroft insists on intricate planning, intent... whereas John focuses on sex right away. Thus, I personally see Mycroft as very remote from the concept of sexuality.

I personally see another likelier (in the context of the show) love interest for Greg: Molly Hooper. If Greg is an obvious mirror for Sherlock, Molly is an obvious mirror for John (I mean, very explicitly... And also at the wedding). There is already a history of interest between the two, at least from Greg’s part. Remember the gaping mouth at Molly’s dress at Christmas? How the camera framed them as a couple at the wedding, while Tom was obviously discarded as a serious lasting boyfriend for her? To be fully honest, I would probably be slightly annoyed at Molly’s character development if she goes out with another Sherlock mirror, but... It would make sense. She said it herself: she has a type. And I’d argue that Greg is a much more wholesome mirror for Sherlock, and he’s obviously interested in her. I think the writers already paved the road for this romance, so it seems likelier to me. I guess we will wait and see :)

To sum up => I ADORE Greg Lestrade. I hadn’t explored my thoughts on him for a long time before I received your message and had the perfect opportunity to do so. It is a joy to study his character and role in the story. To me, he is unquestionably good (like Mrs H & John). He is a fascinating mirror for Sherlock, and a great friend who shows what an uncomplicated friendship with John & Sherlock would look like. I’d definitely be happy to see Mystrade on screen (and these versions of Mycroft and Greg would certainly work well together! I think Greg would love to tease Mycroft like John does sometimes -> cue to hilarious expressions). I personally don’t think the writers would go there, but who knows? That could be very satisfying. I think a likelier mirror for Johnlock will be provided with Molly/Lestrade. Either way, Lestrade might very well be the one to show John & Sherlock the way to love. I’m curious to see how they will show it :)

Hopefully this will be a satisfying answer. Take care, dear! (And feel free to share your thoughts with me on the matter :) )

#TJLC #tjlc meta #greg lestrade #molly as a mirror #johnlock #my meta #mycroft and sex #Mycroft Holmes #greg as a mirror

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teenyfish · 4 years

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Marine Biology Story of the Day #10

Hello all. This post was kinda delayed because I spent all day cleaning out my pool (it’s an above ground pool—my COVID 19 impulse purchase) because a hurricane came through and it’s full of dead insects and leaves among other things. The joys of living right on the coast 😊

Thanks for all of your interest and support on my shrimp research—it’s nice to know that people are interested in the little guys too. So today, we are going to talk about how all of my interest in tiny fish got started—my master’s program and my thesis.

SOoooo…originally I wasn’t planning on getting my masters because it sounded like a lot of work but then I changed my mind last minute when I started looking at job applications and saw that for many of them, you needed a masters—so I ended up becoming a master’s student at the same University that I did my undergrad at—called Christopher Newport University. It’s a teeny public school in Virginia near the Chesapeake Bay. And the reason I chose to do this is because I would be working under Dr. Jessica Thompson, who in hindsight, was probably the best advisor I could have had.

Dr. Thompson is a wonderful human being with many beautiful tattoos, and can definitely drink me under the table, and raises chickens in the middle of a city, but she is also pure and wholly supportive—something that I really needed during that period of my life. She also exclusively studied a wonderful teeny tiny fish: Fundulus heteroclitus, or the Mummichog.

(The males are the ones with the stripes and bright shiny scales and the female is the drabber one)

Her research focuses on this little fish because it is one of the hardiest fish on the east coast. It primarily lives in shallow water salt marsh habitats (intertidal marshes). These shallow water habitats often have very extreme temperature and salinity changes, as shallow water heats and cools up much faster than deep water. So they can survive in a wide range of temperatures, salinities, and dissolved oxygen conditions—I call them the cockroaches of the sea (except they are much cuter). They are also a very important food resources for a TON of marine and coastal predators.

They were also the first fish in space—and they were used in spatial orientation studies. You see, in space, animals and plants can lose all sense of up and down because there is no gravity—however in a few days, this fish were able to figure out their spatial orientation (possibly due to orienting to the overhead light source?). Anyway, they are incredible little babies.

(NASA scientist John Boyd choosing the first two fish (and fish eggs) to leave planet earth)

Because they can move into the very shallow intertidal marsh area (the part where the grasses grow) they can avoid predators during high tide, and this area of the marsh is chock full of food for them, mostly in the form of small zooplankton and worms that live in the mud. But during low tide, this part of the habitat dries up, and they are forced out into the deeper subtidal creeks of the marsh, where they get to be in cooler water, but they are at the mercy of predators, and there is less food.

(everything in the open water is subtidal, everything between tidal flat and low marsh is intertidal)

My aspect of this research involved looking at behavior choices made by these guys when presented with “intertidal marsh” habitat filled with food and marsh grass (their preferred habitat), however we cranked the temperature up to 34-40 oC (93—104 oF), OR a empty “subtidal creek” habitat with no food or structure, but at their optimum temperature for growth at 26 oC (79 oF). 34-40 oC is an EXTREMELY high temperature for fish to be able to function at—most fish begin shutting down their metabolism at these temperatures (aka dying). But supposedly, Mummichog can deal with these temps. There thermal maxima (upper temperature at which they can function) is reported to be 42 oC.

So I had to construct an experimental tank.

These were some of the first iterations of the tank—we had to do a lot of practice runs before we got the design just right. The concept is the same—we used this corrugated plastic (the same you use to make those political signs ppl stick in their front yard) to form two sections, one for warm, one for cold, and a box in the middle that we would remove a door and allow for the fish to swim out. Once the fish chose a side (remained on a side for more than 10 seconds) we would close them off from the rest of the tank—they made a “choice”. In later iterations of the design, we covered the tank in more of the plastic to hide them from us (so they wouldn’t show fear behaviors) and put in fake salt marsh grass on the warm side to mimic an intertidal marsh habitat. Fish were also fed pieces of cut up shrimp on the warm side. We ran 3 trials at increasing temperatures for each run, and during each trial, the fish were run through the tank simulation once a day for three weeks.

In order to get fish for this study, we had to catch wild fish. To catch them, we set minnow traps in the small channels leading into the intertidal marsh at low tide, and as the tide came in, and fish funneled into these channels, they became trapped in our minnow traps.

(examples of minnow traps, and our collection site in Norfolk)

Problem was, in order to get out to these sites, we had to slog through some serious mud. I’m talking about sink up to your thigh levels of mud y’all (and this really bothered me, I’m super claustrophobic). So in order not to get trapped in the mud, we had to wear mudders, which are a little bit like snowshoes (in concept?) but also not like snowshoes at all. They were like boxes you strapped onto your feet with plastic sticking out on the side which was meant to make your footprint bigger (and therefore give you more support on the mud). They worked pretty well but they always gave me major bruises on my ankles as the plastic pressed up and into my ankles. I had to buy some foam padding to wrap around my ankles it was so bad.

Once we got our sweet little babies, I would tag each of them individualy so I could keep track of individual fish. I did this with a combination of Visible Implant Alpha Tags, which are florescent and have individual numbers on them, or Visible Implant Elastomer Tag, which are made of a non-toxic elastomer “paint” and come in 9 colors, so you can create an individual code for each individual by combining 2 colors. These tags are injected under the skin so that they are still visible (fish skin is pretty transparent) but are not very deep in the muscle tissue. These are really great tags to use on really small fish. We used MS-Tricane to anesthetize the fish and inject them, so basically I’ve done fish surgery. You can check out these tags at Northwest Marine Technology—I still use them now! I’m using them on a current project.

(left, a VI Alpha Tag on a trout, right, two different colors of VI elastomer tags on a flounder)

And our fish did really well after tagging—we had no tagging mortalities!

Once we ran these fish through all three trials, it was time to analyze data. We calculated the fish’s dominant “choice” by calculating the proportion of days during the trial they chose the “warm side”—if their proportion was 90%, they had a high affinity for choosing the warm side, 30% they had a low affinity for choosing the warm side and instead more often chose the cool side for example. Then we put this data into environmental models to see if temperature influenced their choices.

And the result?

You read it here first folks. These little fish decided to swim into upwards of 104 o C water regularly to get food—they were so food motivated—and most fish chose the warm side over the cool side most often during every trial. However there was a decent amount of variation—there was a contingent of fish that went into the cool side more often as temperature rose, and would forgo eating for comfort, but overall, the fish chose the warm side. This shows that these fish may be able to adapt quickly as temperatures rise—and those that choose to move into warmer, shallower waters to access food will more likely survive to reproduce (since they choose to be in regions with less predators and more food). This means they are more likely to pass on their warm water acclimating genes to their offspring, continuing their species ability to deal with extreme temperatures on to the next generations.

My thesis defense obviously went well, and I got my masters, but I’ve kept my interest for the smaller fish and invertebrate species because they form one of the base levels of our ocean ecosystems and serve as a very important food resource to larger predators. I’d like to credit Dr. Thompson for giving me this interested and giving me the appreciation for these little and underappreciated animals. She and I have kept in touch—she was actually at my wedding last May, and when my dad got in a major accident (four days before I was supposed to defend my thesis) she came to the hospital and helped me through it, and also helped me push back my defense one semester so I could recuperate from the trauma a little. I am extremely grateful for her tutelage, and I’m grateful for these sweet little babies.

Thanks for reading, and as always, if you have any questions about the field work or the research, PLEASE do not hesitate to ask or comment.

#marine biology story of the day #marine science #marine biology #marine biology stories #coastal marsh #salt marsh #marine biologist #marine biologist stories #ocean stories #mummichog #killifish #fish in space #thesis research #Christopher Newport University #fish physiology #fish behavior

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starwarsnonsense · 4 years

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Top 10 Most Anticipated Films of 2020

Now I’ve got my embarrassingly late ‘Best of 2019′ list out of the way, I can finally proceed to the list that’s probably more exciting - my most anticipated films of 2020!

This list excludes films that have already been screened at festivals (otherwise, stuff like Saint Maud would be here). It’s also somewhat analogous to groping about for a light switch in the dark - these lists very rarely accurately predict my ultimate favourites for the year, so it’s more of a fun speculative exercise. Hopefully this puts some intriguing-looking films on your radar for the year ahead!

1. Dune (dir. Denis Villeneuve)

Plot: The story of Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet), a brilliant and gifted young man born into a great destiny beyond his understanding, who must travel to the most dangerous planet in the universe to ensure the future of his family and his people.

Why be excited? The reasons to be excited about Dune should be pretty self-evident - it’s directed by one of the greatest filmmakers working today (Villeneuve’s Incendies and Blade Runner 2049 are all-timers for me), and is based on one of the best science-fiction novels ever written. The cast - Timothée Chalamet, Rebecca Ferguson, Oscar Isaac, Javier Bardem, Charlotte Rampling, and more - is absolutely stacked with talent. There’s every reason to believe that this will be something special, and I couldn’t be more pleased that Villeneuve is the man responsible for filling that Star Wars-shaped hole in the December release schedule.

2. Annette (dir. Leos Carax)

Plot: A stand-up comedian (Adam Driver), and his opera singer wife (Marion Cotillard), have a two-year-old daughter with a surprising gift.

Why be excited? You may not have heard of him, but Leos Carax is one of the most exciting directors working - he only makes around one film a decade, but the films he does make tend to be very special. I’ve only seen one film of his - Lovers on the Bridge - but that was filled with such ecstatic romance and wondrous visuals that it made me tremendously excited for Annette. Annette is a top-to-bottom musical with songs by American duo Sparks (if you know them for anything, it will be ‘This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us’), and said songs will be delivered by Adam Driver and Marion Cotillard. It goes without saying that both actors are extremely talented performers with great voices (see Driver in Marriage Story and Cotillard in Nine for evidence), and I’m looking forward to seeing how they demonstrate their talents here.

3. Last Night in Solo (dir. Edgar Wright)

Plot: A young girl (Thomasin McKenzie), passionate in fashion design, is mysteriously able to enter the 1960s where she encounters her idol, a dazzling wannabe singer (Anya Taylor-Joy). But 1960s London is not what it seems, and time seems to fall apart with shady consequences.

Why be excited? I’m not the biggest Edgar Wright fan, but I admire him greatly and the premise of Last Night in Soho is like cat-nip to me. Speaking to Empire, Wright explained the story as follows: “I’m taking a premise whereby you have a character who, in a sort of abstract way, gets to travel in time. And the reality of the decade is maybe not what she imagines. It has an element of ‘be careful what you wish for’.” I’m a sucker for a good, old-fashioned high concept, especially when said films play with genre and really challenge the viewer. The two female leads - Thomasin McKenzie (JoJo Rabbit, Leave No Trace) and Anya Taylor-Joy (The Witch, Emma) - are among the very best young actors working today, and the supporting cast features absolute legends such as Diana Rigg and Terence Stamp. Whether it’s successful or not, this film feels like a genuinely original prospect and I’m eager to see how it turns out.

4. The Green Knight (dir. David Lowery)

Plot: A fantasy re-telling of the medieval tale of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

Why be excited? There has been a sad lack of films based on mythology in recent years - or, to be more accurate, there has been a sad lack of films that attempt to honour what the myths were actually trying to convey. The stunning trailer for Green Knight promises a film that genuinely engages with its source material, and is just as interested in the psychological truths of the tale as the spectacle of its fantastical scenarios. Dev Patel is an extremely talented actor coming off another great movie in The Personal History of David Copperfield, and the supporting cast (Alicia Vikander!) appear to be fully committed to their parts. I’m excited to see a true myth on the big screen again, and David Lowery (A Ghost Story, The Old Man & The Gun) can be trusted to give an old tale a new sense of vitality.

5. The French Dispatch (dir. Wes Anderson)

Plot: The staff of a European publication decides to publish a memorial edition highlighting the three best stories from the last decade: an artist sentenced to life imprisonment, student riots, and a kidnapping resolved by a chef.

Why be excited? It’s a Wes Anderson movie! Of course I’m excited! In all seriousness, the trailer was all I needed to get hyped about this. It’s clearly Anderson’s quintessential style, but it also shows flashes of some very bold and striking compositions (yes, I’m thinking of Chalamet on the back of that motorcycle) that you wouldn’t necessarily think of in relation to him. I’m intrigued by the prospect of there being stories nested within a story, which feels like the perfect choice for the structure of a film about a newspaper. The cast features all of Anderson’s old favourites (Swinton! Murray! McDormand!), as well as some exciting new additions (Timothée Chalamet, Elisabeth Moss, Christoph Waltz, among others) that feel so well-suited to his style it’s surprising they haven’t worked together before. Bring on all those immaculately composed shots and exquisite colour palettes.

6. Tenet (dir. Christopher Nolan)

Plot: Unknown. The project is described as an action epic revolving around international espionage.

Why be excited? I hate to sound repetitive, but ... it’s a Christopher Nolan movie. That alone is enough to be hyped about this. Details of the plot are vague for now, but the teaser suggests the sort of intelligent, high-concept film-making we’ve come to expect from Nolan. John David Washington - who impressed in BlacKkKlansman - is a great choice for the lead, and I also love that Tenet will feature Robert Pattinson and Elizabeth Debicki (among my favourite actors) in prominent roles. There’s not much else to say given how little we know about this, but suffice to say I’ll be there on day one!

7. Wonder Woman 1984 (dir. Patty Jenkins)

Plot: Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) comes into conflict with the Soviet Union during the Cold War in the 1980s and finds a formidable foe by the name of the Cheetah (Kristen Wiig).

Why be excited? The original Wonder Woman was an absolute delight, and I couldn’t be more pleased that Patty Jenkins is back to continue Diana’s story. The decision to pick up with Diana in the 1980s is most intriguing (and paves the way for all kinds of exciting choices when it comes to the music and the fashions), especially since it looks like the film is actually going to explore the implications of being an immortal being in a mortal world.

8. Raya and the Last Dragon (dir. Paul Briggs and Dean Wellins)

Plot: A lone warrior from the fantasy kingdom of Kumandra teams up with a crew of misfits in her quest to find the Last Dragon and bring light and unity back to their world.

Why be excited? The animation scene in 2020 looks kind of ... blah at the moment, with the notable exception of Raya and the Last Dragon. The setting was described by the film’s producer as "a reimagined Earth inhabited by an ancient civilization that venerated the mythical dragons for their power and their wisdom”, and that alone is enough to fire up my imagination. Off the back of Moana and the Frozen films (which I all unabashedly love), I trust Disney Animation to instil this with plenty of colour and verve.

9. I’m Thinking of Ending Things (dir. Charlie Kaufman)

Plot: An unexpected detour turns a couple’s road trip into a terrifying journey through their fragile psyches.

Why be excited? Directed by Charlie Kaufman (writer of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), I’m Thinking of Ending Things is based on a prize-winning novel. However, despite the pedigree the main reason I’m looking forward to this is Jessie Buckley. Buckley gave a star-making performance in Beast a few years ago, and has since proven herself an actor of immense talent and skill (see Wild Rose for proof of what a powerhouse she is). I’m excited to see her career continue to go from strength to strength, and I’m Thinking of Ending Things seems poised to be a great showcase for her.

10. The Last Duel (dir. Ridley Scott)

Plot: King Charles VI declares that Knight Jean de Carrouges (Matt Damon) settle his dispute with his squire (Adam Driver) by challenging him to a duel.

Why be excited? Ridley Scott is a bit of a mixed bag for me, and has never come close to reaching the heights of Alien and Blade Runner with his recent work. Nonetheless, against my better judgement I can’t help but be excited by the prospect of a medieval epic with Scott at the helm. The acting talent attached to The Last Duel is top-notch, and I’m particularly fond of Jodie Comer (of Killing Eve fame) and Adam Driver (do you really need me to say more?). There’s a very real danger of the highly sensitive plot (the ‘dispute’ at the heart of the story concerns an accusation of rape, the truth of which is to be determined with a duel) being mishandled by Scott, but the involvement of screenwriter Nicole Holofcener gives me some hope. This could turn out to be a misfire, but my hope is that it will, at the very least, be interesting.

#dune #annette #last night in soho #green knight #the french dispatch #timothee chalamet #Adam driver #jessie buckley #the last duel #i'm thinking of ending things #raya and the last dragon #wonder woman 1984 #tenet #films #2020 in film #cinema

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ninjakasuga · 4 years

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Sonsal Celebration Year Two, Day 3:

Onto prompt number three for the @boundforfreedomsonsal celebration! This one jumps in time even more than the last one, taking place sometime after the entire Mecha-Sally arc of the pre-reboot era has been handled. A few people told me they really enjoyed my usage of multiple characters beyond Sonic and Sally and I hope this one while only three characters in total are enjoyable to you all as well!

SURPISE!: As she adjusted her clothing, Bernadette Hedgehog smiled at her reflection in the mirror. A good night’s sleep, a fresh shower, clean clothes, and the matron of the Hedgehog household was ready to face the day. Turning from her mirror, she went over to her bed, tidying it up a bit, before a sniff told her, she should just go ahead and change the bedding. It wasn’t rank; it just, smelled very heavily of a certain act she and her husband partook… several times last night. A girlish giggle left Bernie along with a pink tinge to her cheeks as she stripped her bed of the sheets, pillowcases, and the comforter to haul to the laundry room.

Sometimes it was still hard to believe that a mere few months ago, a way to restore her beloved husband Jules to flesh and blood without his old war injuries returning and killing him was discovered. Ironically the development came from the method used to restore Princess Sally to flesh and blood after she had been turned into Mecha Sally. As she put the bedding into the wash, and set it to run, Bernie’s happy thoughts soured a little at that thought. The deep depression her son suffered during that period made her heart ache for her son even now when all was well and over with. Nor had it been fun to see the poor Princess dealing with her own post-deroboticization trauma of all the things she was made to do. It wasn’t uncommon to see Sally spending time at their home with Sonic, or he with her at the palace.

Suffice to say Bernie let a few of the few rules she and Jules insisted upon Sonic when bringing his girlfriend over, well slip into the cracks. More than once when she woke up in the middle of the night for some reason, she’d walk by her son’s (locked) bedroom door and hear the sounds of certain... activities that were requested to not happen under her roof. Neither Bernie nor Jules were prudes, but their home wasn’t a refuge for teenager frolicking of that nature. It was more a desire for discretion than forbidding Sonic and beloved from being intimate, after all out-of-sight, out-of-mind. Jules and she doubted Sonic wanted to stumble them making love.

However, both had, let that rule bent some, so long as it didn’t get out of hand, since at the time, the two deeply, and VERY much needed one another. Since they were never loud enough to be heard from Jules and Bernie’s own bedroom or left any mess to be cleaned up, they let it slide. At least things were better now, Dr. Eggman was still a threat but his operations had been severely hampered losing his precious Death Egg, and a slew of victories the Freedom Fighters had won lately. The false-King Naugus and his agent, turncoat Geoffery St. John had been dealt with. Good riddance to both of them, Naugus could rot in whatever dimension he was stuck in, and St. John could rot in prison forever. Shaking her head, she lightly smacked her cheeks to clear her head; why should she focus on so much dread? She had every reason to be happy as happy could be today!

Walking back down the hallway connecting to the bathroom and bedrooms, Bernie on a whim went to her son’s room and tested the doorknock. Locked; which meant… he had company. Given Jules and she had already gone to bed when her son probably came home from his last mission; of course, he would sneak Sally in. Shaking her head, however, she smiled, rather wickedly rather than seem angry. While she had gladly bent the rules before for her son; at this point, he should be MUCH more open in inviting Sally over. A note outside his door would be nice, even a damn sock on the doorknob as tact-y that sounded would do the job.

Time for a little playful payback. Raising her balled hand, she rapped on the door normally and spoke in as much of a motherly ‘sing-song’ voice as she could manage. “Ooooh Sonic dear! Wakey, wakey sleepyhead!” Putting her ear to the door, she barely held back a giggle as she heard the sounds of ruffling from the bed, including the sound of someone falling out of said bed, onto the floor and cursing. There was a lot of muffled cursing, and she could make out two distinct someones’ scrambling about.

Her son’s badly disguised panic-voice called out to her, trying to sound as sleepy as he could. “B-be right out Mom! I just need to be presentable!”

Bernie rolled her eyes, waiting until she heard the sound of the window starting to open, then with a wide grin, she spoke aloud through the door. “Oh Sonic dear, please do let Sally know she’s invited to stay for breakfast!” Upon hearing two audible gasps and more under-the-breath cursing, she allowed herself a small fist-pump in her victory. “Jules and I already showered, and your Father’s out helping your Uncle, so I’ll be making breakfast just for us, and the shower’s free for both of you to use! Just don’t take too long!” Now she let herself giggle as she could envision the two’s blood-drained faces.

Sometimes, teasing your kids and their significant other was fun. Which is all this was, Bernie had no intent on reaming either of them. She supported them both, but, she wanted her son to remember this was his parents’ home, and well; you had to pay the piper when you kept bending the rules. Making her way to the kitchen, Bernie found her apron and put it on, and started working her magic. Soon the kitchen was filled with the smells of food being cooked; sizzling bacon, pancakes on the griddle, toast, hashbrowns, and simple scrambled eggs. After last night she could use some ‘power food’ and she had a feeling both kids could as well.

As she was finishing up the last of the food, she heard footsteps and looked toward the doorway leading to the main hallway, and smiled ever-so-pleasantly as both Sonic, and Sally appeared, freshly cleaned and showered, and blushing from their necks to their ears.“Good morning you two!”Running a hand through his head-quills, Sonic looked ever the child who had his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Mornin’ Mom…”

“G-good morning Mrs. Hedgehog…” Sally swallowed hard, twiddling her fingers together in a sheepish manner, mirroring Sonic’s own ‘hand in the cookie jar’ guilt expression. Looking at the Mother of her boyfriend, Sally summoned her courage, and humility as she spoke. “I’m sorry about us we… you know… in your home-.” Waving a hand, Bernie began to transfer the finished food items to the table. “Oh don’t fret about it, dear! You’re practically family now, I don’t mind if you stay over, you’re always welcome!” She waited for a beat as the two looked gobsmacked and then she grinned in a rather evil-manner their way. “You’re both old enough to mind your own affairs, and make love all you wish, but I still would like some notice when you bring Sally over son. Just continue to be discreet about the love-making and all will be hunky-dory, do I make myself clear?”

Both the fastest hedgehog alive, and squirrel-munk Princess nod their heads rapidly. “Yes ma’am!” They utter in unison, sufficiently cowed and humbled, which pleased Bernie.

“Good, my only other request is you don’t make me a Grandmother just yet.” Her plain smile hid the internal glee she had as both of them turned redder than tomatoes. “MOM!” Exclaimed Sonic who looked like he wanted to run out of the house, into the woods, and bury himself under the nearest big rock. Sally was no better, rubbing her face still tinged with pink as she tried to fight back all the thoughts both positive and negative that concept brought up. “M-Mrs. Hedgehog, we’re too young! Oh god, and my parents would have a fit if we weren’t married first...” “Okay, I had my fun, both of you have a seat, oh and Sally dear just Bernie will do.” Giggling, Bernie gestured for them to sit, and once they did, she seated herself. She felt a small amount of pity for them, but she still wished to remain firm in making this little incident a bit of a reminder lesson for the two on her house rules. Within minutes, they were eating and the good breakfast grub seemed to help ease any of the prior embarrassment, plus getting compliments for one’s cooking was certainly welcome at her table. Bernie couldn’t help but occasionally look up from her meal, smiling as the two were being cute without realizing it.

They would occasionally offer the other a bite of the others’ food, or their hands not holding a utensil would slide under the table, probably to handhold. The female hedgehog also would bet money if she glanced under the table, she’d see them locking their legs together. Then when Sonic got overenthusiastic and make a mess eating pancakes and getting syrup on himself; Sally would take her napkin and try and clear his face for him, and despite initial resistance, he would let her. It warmed her heart to no end. As she watched them, her own freehand not scooping food had moved down and rested on her belly which she panted before deciding now was a good time to spill some good news.

Clearing her throat, Bernie smiled at her son and Sally as they both looked her way, gaining their attention. “Well, now that we’ve had most of our meal, I feel I need to tell you both something important.”

“What sort of important thing Mom?” Her son inquired with a raised eyebrow, a slight unease on his features as he undoubtedly worried it might swivel back to the prior topic. Sally seemed to share his unease.

Which made Bernie all the happier to put those concerns at ease. Standing up, she flashed a beaming smile, every ounce of joy she’d been containing all morning flooding from her very being. “I’m pregnant!!”

Dropping his fork, Sonic’s jaw dropped and Sally slapped a hand over her mouth as the shock hit them both first. Shock slowly gave way to a brief period of processing. Sonic still seemed to be in the middle of processing as Sally’s shock fully gave way to giddy, joy. “Oh my gosh Mrs. Hedgehog that’s amazing!” Sally got up from her seat, rounding the table to give the woman a big hug.

Returning it happily, Bernie squeezed the young woman who was practically her daughter-in-law. “Just Bernie dear remember? No need for formality at this stage!” She laughed and rocked a bit with Sally as the two women basked in the joyous moment.

Once he finally processed what he had been told, Sonic got up from his seat, and like Sally, walked around the table toward his mother, still seeming to be mildly shocked. “You’re pregnant Mom? Really?” Giggling, Bernie released Sally and held her son. “Oh very much so! Don’t forget son I’m biologically still in my twenties instead of my forties. So my oven is still very able and primed for life!” She added a little eyebrow waggle, which made Sally giggle and Sonic make a mildly disgusted face.

“Um, okay, a bit too much information Mom.”

“Son, your parents still have sex, deal with it. It was going to be a thing once your father was flesh and blood again.” She playfully stated while patting his cheek. To which he turned his head and covered his mouth. “I really didn’t need to hear that…”

Sighing but sympathizing, Sally walked over and rubbed his right shoulder. “Well, I guess considering she’s overheard us, it’s karma.” She rationalized, knowing she’d feel the same in his shoes if it was her parents.

Pitying her son, Bernie cupped his face and planted a kiss to his forehead. “Sorry sweetie, I’ll knock it off. In all seriousness, I’m so…. Happy.” She wiped her eyes, as they misted over some. “I only just wish we could have given you your siblings when you were a child.”

That tidbit caught Sonic’s ear, “Siblings? As in, multiple?”

Smiling widely still, Bernie nodded with the same giddy energy as she replied. “Doctor Quack confirmed it, I’m having twins. Genders are unknown if it’s twins same-sex or boy and girl twins, but that’s half the fun in waiting to find out.”

“....I’m going to be a big brother.” Sonic finally murmured as he slowly sat back down in a chair, a smile slowly crawling onto his face. Looking up at his Mother he then asked. “Does Dad know?” “Oh yes I told him right away, we were going to tell you both this morning but your Uncle called, needing a hand so he went out after a shower.” Steepling her fingers together, Bernie bounced a little on her feet.

Sally knelt by Sonic to hug him, kissing him once on the lips. “Welcome to the sibling club, admission is free.” Petting his head quills Sally couldn’t help but smile more as she looked upon Sonic’s still happy expression; feeling joy for him and his family.

Flashing a cocky smile, Sonic slid his arm around her waist, keeping her close. “I technically am a member since Tails has always been my li’bro. I just now got a new li’ bro or li’ sis or doubles of each incoming.”

“Well, Tails is welcome to be a big brother to the new brood as well, family is family after all.” Commented Bernie as she laid a hand on her son’s shoulder and another on Sally’s. A sense of contentment filling her and seemingly the room.

Of course, with the state of the world, bringing new lives into a war-torn world was certainly an iffy prospect. However, Bernie wanted the new lives growing in her, to expand her family. She believed in her son, Sally, and their friends. Somehow, someway, they’d win this. Hopefully, her unborn children could enjoy a world without Eggman looming over the horizon.

All she could do was hope, and perhaps; her want of a world where all her children could walk, run and just live free would be a reality someday.

Author Notes: Welcome to my fanon method of making Sonia and Manik canon to Archie-Sonic!

#sonic the hedgehog #sally acorn #archie sonic #bernadette hedgehog #continuity archie sonic #boundingforfreedom #boundingforfreedomsonsal #boundingforfreedom year two #prompt surprise #fanfiction #sonsal #sonally

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lorem-text · 4 years

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Painting with Brushstrokes of Code

An art as old as computers themselves, programming has spiked in recent years following the creation of countless new languages, each one with more specific uses than the other. These languages make up the bedrock of computer science. However, a language is nothing but words and letters without its speaker. In the same way, programming languages are little more than aimless lines and numbers without a programmer. Even so, the programmers who use these languages - Java, Python, C++ - to create programs and software rarely get as much recognition as the languages themselves. So, what does the life of a programmer, a true scholar of computer science, look like?

To answer that question, we met with John; a young programmer stationed in L.A., who agreed to tell us a little about his experience in the world of bits and bytes.

“[…] I always loved computers. When I was a kid, I made a lot of mods and crap; they were really bad, but everyone’s first attempt at anything is bad.”

Ever since he was young, technology called to John like a siren’s song. His journey into the life of a programmer started with video games, through mods and developer consoles. However, it wasn’t until high school that he got really into programming after taking an Intro to Java class.

John would then go on to study programming in college with a focus on software development, and that would in time jump-start the series of events which have led him to where he is today.

“Programming isn’t fun all the time, but I like sitting by myself and just typing up a script and seeing what I can do with it.”

The work of a programmer is by no means all fun and games. A single program that appears simple on the outside may require many sleepless nights and empty coffee pots to run properly, and success is rarely a given regardless of a programmer’s experience.

Despite the struggles that come with programming, however, John’s passion for his work shows no signs of abating, and understandably so.

I can tell you from experience, no matter how many times you do it, the joy of writing some dozen lines of code and watching them transform into a program never really goes away.

Still, getting where he is now hasn’t been smooth sailing for John. Circumstances in his personal life caused him to leave Ohio, which in turn forced him to drop out of university. He move to Los Angeles with his aunt and uncle, where he tried to apply for a different university, but to no avail. So, with what knowledge he had, he started working as a freelancer.

Still, that wasn’t the end for John. Some time after his move to L.A., a chance encounter with an extraordinary man would turn John’s luck around. With the man’s guidance and the support of his aunt and uncle, John directed his energy towards his second greatest passion, and the very thing that led him down this path in the first place; video games.

“The thing I’ve always wanted to do the most was design software, […] but I never got that chance, so I’m happy with settling with my second favorite thing: games.”

Currently, John is working on an indie action horror rpg, inspired in equal parts by his life and his imagination. The main concept is classified and unavailable to the public, but we were allowed a sneak peak and let me tell you, I would definitely sign up as an Alpha tester if I had the time.

John has undertaken the project by himself, and is currently looking for additional help with AI programming and graphics and model design. We have put up an advertisement on the Night Owl magazine as well as our official blog, which you can find at lorem-text.tumblr.com.

There is a long way to go until the game is released, and the launch date for the Beta is as of yet unknown, but we are hoping for an update on the game’s progress sometime within the year.

Finally, we asked John what advice he would give to aspiring programmers and software developments, to which he replied with this:

“Don’t lose your passion for it. It’ll get boring, it might seem helpless, but you can do amazing [things] and you should keep working at it! […] Don’t give up EVER and don’t forget how to have fun.”

An inspiring piece of advice that’s applicable to all walks of life and has undoubtedly followed John throug his life thus far

Overall, John is a brilliant young man whose passion infects and inspires those around him much like it has us and we hope to see much more from him in the coming years.

Eliot Wilde, journalist and writer for Night Owl and host of Night Owl FM

#vtm rp #article #ghouljohnofficial #(goodnight buckos)#(i keep forgetting the 'keep reading' thing asdfas)

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

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what’s it worth {Brian May}

@ceruleanrainblues asked: Hi! Let me just say that your writing is so inspiring and marvelous, it such a joy to read your stories, so thank you for sharing them dear!💖💖🙌 😊 I was also wondering if you could write something with Brian? Like reader is a photographer but also really shy so she ends up taking a lot of pictures of him? You can totally add something else if you want! Have a good day!

A/N: 2957 words. Sorry it took so damn long to finally get around to this. I hope you enjoy it! I don’t think this is what you asked for, but I think Smile-Era boys are the least tense of the bunch and I just wanted this to be light and fun. Ruby, I’m so glad I could finally write for you, your support and encouragement is honestly one of my favourite parts of running this blog, and every time I see I get a comment from you my heart absolutely sings. You’re a delight. Sorry, this got really personal and sappy, anyways, have a blast this was cute to write.

The university hires you whenever they need someone cheap to take photos at student nights; you’d seen more bar fights, shitty bands, and twenty-somethings in togas than any respectable person probably should. So on nights like tonight, where the band is good and the crowd is stable, you’re allowed to actually enjoy yourself. Taking a few, sparing photos of students for the university’s paper, you’re still hiding behind your camera like a shield when you finally start to take photos of the band.

Don’t Forget To Smile is the name of the band, with a big pair of lips printed on the bass drum, and okay, maybe you think it’s a cute concept, and maybe you did smile, but only a little. You knew a thing or two about music, not a lot, a little more than the average listener, perhaps, and they were half decent for a university band. The vocals were a little all over the place, but the vocalist was playing bass as well, the drums were high energy, and well, you’d always been a sucker for a good bass riff, and this one was really making you feel some type of way.

When you lower your camera to take a real look at the band, you find yourself captivated; the drummer and the bass player were men you’d seen a thousand times before, admittedly in bands far worse than this, but the guitarist, he had sharp features and an easy confidence about the way he played. His intensity, his focus, it had you almost entranced and you found yourself unable to look away.

As the song came to an end he looked up, eyes scanning over the crowd as he gave himself a beat between songs to relax, and his eyes fell upon you, still holding up your camera, looking at him with awe. The moment he grins at you, you can feel yourself flush, reflexively covering your face with your camera, hiding your own shy smile as you move to take better angled shots of the band. He regards you with interest for a few more moments before the drums kick the next song to life.

“You’re on official business, I see.” He catches you in between sets taking photos of people laughing by the bar. You let yourself take the shot before acknowledging him with a half-smile, pulling the lanyard from your pocket that had granted you free entry into the event.

“I’m with the uni.” You explain, and he hands the lanyard back with a grin.

“Well I’m with the band,” and he held out his hand, which you took, your grip surprisingly firm, “Brian.” You tell him your name in return and his smile grows just a little bit wider. “Well, Y/N, if it’s not too much trouble can I grab the boys and get a photo?” To which you of course agree. They introduce themselves easily enough, the blonde one whose name you’ve already forgotten giving you a leering smile, which you easily ignore. Once the photo’s taken they head back to start their next set; when Brian catches your eye, he grins, and you find yourself smiling back.

Monday, when you develop the photo, you’ll see the drummer looking at someone off camera, a girl who you remember was calling his name, the singer looking like he had literally no idea where he was, and Brian beaming at you- at the camera, and you’re pretty sure it’s your favourite shot of the night.

“I remember you!” The next time you see the band, they’ve lost the singer, which you’re not super cut about, and they’ve upgraded to a man named Freddie on vocals, and a man named John on bass. You hadn’t noticed him at first, standing at the bar waiting for his drink before the band began playing for the night, but he heard your voice, saw your camera, and was beaming before you’d even processed who he was. “It’s good seeing you again, uh-” He hesitated on your name, face falling as he couldn’t seem to recall it, but you tell him again, smiling despite yourself.

“You want anything? My shout.” He offered, gesturing to where the bartender was sorting out his change, and you hesitated for a moment. Nodding, you tell the bartender your order, nothing too fancy, you didn’t want to seem like you were taking advantage of his kindness, and thanked him softly. The two of you drink in silence, you cradling your camera in one hand and your drink in the other, sitting on a stool and looking out over the crowd, him watching with amusement as the drummer - Roger! That had been bugging you for weeks now - tweaked his drum kit and Freddie paced back and forth on the stage.

“You on official business tonight?” Brian asks without looking at you, still looking at his band mates, but you were halfway through a long sip of drink, not expecting a question, and your mouth moves faster than your brain, trying to answer before you’d lowered your cup. He’s there in a flash, gingerly taking your camera and holding it out from you so it couldn’t be damaged, though the strap was still around your neck, and you unlooped it as you realised you’d managed to spill some on yourself.

“You carry a camera you can get in pretty much anywhere for free.” Unlooping said camera from around your neck, you put down your drink and take the dishcloth the bartender was offering you, patting yourself dry.

“So, no?” Brian asked, and you finally look up to meet his gaze; he’s looking amused, but only a little, he mostly seems apologetic, holding the camera so carefully it looks as if he’s afraid it’ll shatter in his hands. Holding his gaze for a beat, you can feel yourself flush, cloth pressed to your now mostly clean chest.

“Not technically.” You agree, repressing a grin as you took the camera from him, putting the cloth on the table. Looking your equipment over to double check that it was fine, you lifted the viewfinder to your eye, focusing the camera on Brian. “One for safety?” You asked, and he posed obligingly, leaning against the bar with a beer in hand.

He’s not looking at the camera when the picture’s taken, he’s looking at you, though you don’t really notice at the time, and he’s smiling.

“So is this for your personal collection?” He asks, and you can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks at the implication, avoiding his gaze as you lower the camera, fiddling with the settings to keep your hands busy.

“I don’t- no, I just- you make me sound like a pervert.” You huff, and he laughs at that, a low, easy chuckle, not a mean note in the sound, “I can scrap it if you’d prefer.” But he’s already waving you off, patting your hand in reassurance.

“I didn’t mean it like that, don’t worry.” But he’s called away before you can respond. You see him again a few times throughout the night, meet the new band members, take a few photos, and once, maybe twice, you caught him watching you while he was meant to be in conversation with someone else at the bar, or by the stage. And when you smiled at him, just something small, perhaps a little confused by him paying you attention, he smiled back.

It’s a week later and you’re in an unfamiliar pub, clutching your camera like a lifeline, weaving through tipsy students listening as Smile filled the room with their music. There’s butterflies in your stomach as you hover at the edge of the room, unable to reach the bar for the other patrons, and you pull your camera up to cover your face out of instinct. You get a few shots of the band, some of the people dancing, one of pool table right as a game started and all the ball scattered with a crack, and before you know it there’s a hand on your back where you’re leaning down to get a low angle shot as the next player lined up his own shot, and you realise the band has finished their first set.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.” And you hear the grin in Brian’s words before you even see him as you spin to face him with a start. Almost overbalancing, you’re grateful when he catches you with a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m not really the going out type.” You agree, voice quiet, but before he could comment on that particular fact one way or the other, you were already rifling through the bag you had slung over one shoulder, pulling out an envelope. With little fuss, you presented it to him, not wanting to think about how when he moved his hand from your shoulder to take the photos, something in your chest tightens at the loss of contact. A little confused, he flips through the contents, and a smile grows on his face as he realises what you’ve handed him.

“These are from last week, right?” He asked, eyes shining brightly as he pulled out a few to have a closer look at the photographs.

“For your personal collection.” You said, to which he laughed, a little incredulously.

“These... these are really quite good.” His eyes roamed over some of the more action-orientated shot’s you’d gotten of the band, seeming to favour the landscape one of him in the foreground, guitar being held up by it’s neck as he revelled in what he remembered to be the final shot, with Roger in the background, head thrown back, arms raised in triumph. Though you were a little offended by his tone of surprise, you go to turn back to taking photos of the pool game, but he makes an amused noise in the back of his throat.

“I thought this one was yours?” He asked, and he’s holding out the one you’d taken of him by the bar. You wouldn’t admit it, but you did really like the photo; you liked capturing people’s genuine smiles, and he was absolutely exuding joy in the shot. Shaking your head, you try to refuse.

“I don’t- wouldn’t it be weird? Me just having a photo of you?” You asked, and Brian pressed his lips together, biting back a smile.

“It would be weird.” He agreed. “I think I need a photo of you; you can write your name on the back so I don’t forget who you are like I did last time.” And you find yourself agreeing, passing over your camera and hoping to god you don’t look as flushed in the finished project as you feel. Leaning awkwardly against the pool table, you cross your arms over your chest, not used to being on the other side of the camera.

“It won’t turn out as good as your photo of me did,” he warned, adding after a beat, “not that you’re not beautiful, love, I’m just no expert photographer.” And he snaps the photo right as your hand moves to cover your giggle. The laughter relaxed your whole image, and when the photo develops, you can see the way he’s captured your joy, a little hunched in on yourself, but hand blurry, moving to cover a bright, toothy grin that hadn’t been hidden in time.

“So when can I get that off you?” He asked, passing the camera back, to which you shrugged.

“I can develop it on Monday at the uni.” Is all you supplied him with, and he thought for a long while. After a moment, he looked through the set of photos you’d given him, pausing for a beat to snort out a laugh at a particularly terrible face Roger was making in one, before finally just deciding to take the one of himself that he’d given to you, writing on the back and passing it back to you.

“That’s the pub we’re playing at next Saturday.” He told you, and you’re smiling as he hands it back.

“I’ll be there with bells on.” You joked, and he raised his eyebrows, looking far too serious to actually be serious.

“You better not be, you might overshadow us.” But you can hear the thinly veiled amusement in his words, though you still play up the joke, just a little.

“I’m sure, if I wasn’t kidding,” you clarified, and you saw him physically hold back a laugh, “that I could never be louder than- than whatever it is that Roger do-”

“He drums, love,” he cuts you off, casting a glance over his shoulder to where the rest of the band that’s technically called drumming.” Your answering smile was enough of a gentle, unspoken ‘I know’ to have Brian shaking his head in exasperated amusement as he headed back to the stage for the next set.

“More photos? You really are obsessed with us, aren’t you, love?” Brian’s grinning enough to let you know he’s kidding as he looks through the photos you bring him the next week, in a pub that is again, wholly unfamiliar to you. He gives pause at a few, especially a few well framed ones of himself and Freddie, before he gets to the last one. It’s the one he took of you, a little overexposed, a little bit blurry, but by the look in his eyes, it’s easily his favourite. He’s actually a little lost for words.

“My name’s on the back.” You add, gently flipping him to show you where you’d written your name for him, just as he’d asked. His fond smile grows wider, and after looking at it for a beat, he flips the photo back over to gaze at the picture of you just a little longer. After a beat, he looks up at you, still smiling, a little hopeful this time.

“Hey, do you think you could add one more thing to the back for me?” He asked, passing the photo back. Pulling a pen from your bag obligingly, you see the moment he decides to take a calculated risk, lips twitching the smile into something a little more mischievous. “Your phone number.” It takes you a moment, but you’re grinning, nodding emphatically as you scribbled down your number on the back of the photograph, pressing it back into his hands with your heart knocking excitedly against your ribs.

It’s your turn to take a risk, you decide, both of you still holding the photograph, and you lean forward, pulling him a little bit closer to press a kiss to his lips. He seems surprised when you pull away, rocking back on your heels trying to assess his reaction. It takes only the barest moment for him to process it, however, before he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in to another kiss. Roger lets out a wolf whistle from somewhere across the room and Brian flips him off without even looking, just letting himself smile against your lips.

When the two of you move into your first apartment together months later, the first thing you do is pin up your five favourite photos. The first is, of course, the one you took of Brian, Roger, and Tim, on that first night in the uni pub where Brian’s beaming at you past the camera; you’d lost the original, so you’d had to search through the uni paper’s archives to copy one from there. The second was one of Smile, now Queen, with all four of the boys, back when things were still a bit shaky, though they’d settled considerably.

The photos you took of each other you don’t hang up, you keep your photo of him in a photo album, where all your best and most treasured photos go. He keeps his photo of you in his wallet, folded up, and it’s a little worse for wear now, but he always has it with him.

The third photo you hang up is one you’d taken on your first date, awkwardly framed since the person passing by who you’d asked to take the photo wasn’t particularly good at what they were doing, but you loved it, you had your arms around each other and Brian had kissed your cheek at the last minute, which was immortalised in the photo.

The fourth photo was a little bit ruined by Roger making a face in the bottom corner, but Freddie had picked up your camera while the band had been recording their first album, and while the sound designer had been fiddling with some settings, and Brian hadn’t been needed thus far, the two of you had fallen asleep on one another on the sofa. He’s sitting up and you’re curled up against him, your head on his shoulder, Mary’s jacket on your legs as some sort of blanket where she’s somewhere out of shot.

The fifth shot is your favourite, if only because you’re both in your element. It’s a polaroid, you’re not sure who it was taken by, only that it was given to you after a rehearsal at one of their bigger gigs. You’re standing on the second step of the drum risers, lights flooding the parcans and between your legs, shining directly onto Brian who’s playing for you, so you can get a good movement shot. The polaroid was taken from the side, you’re both in profile, and it’s managed to capture the hint of your affectionate smile amid the shadow on your face, and he’s grinning brightly, so full of joy and enthusiasm to be there, modelling for you.

So you hang up your five favourite photos, and leave space to put up many more.

#brian may #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #bo rhap #borhap imagine #gwilym lee #queen imagines #queen #queen imagine #the angry lizard writes

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gumnut-logic · 5 years

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In Need

Title: In Need

Part Five of ‘In His Place’

Marks series

Author: Gumnut

26 - 29 May 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: “Why do you do this to yourself?”

Word count: 2953

Spoilers & warnings: Virgil/Kayo, Wing!fic, not my usual fare.

Timeline: TBA

Author’s note: This is part five. @the-lady-razorsharp and I are writing this series together. You can find the entirety of the story on Ao3 in order under both our profiles. This one explains a bit more. Thank you all for your wonderful support in this venture of ours. We hope you are enjoying it as much as we’re enjoying writing it :D

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Alan was running out of brothers.

He returned to John with some breakfast only to find the tension in the room had skyrocketed. John had tears in his eyes, and, oh my god, so did Scott. What the hell?

Something was wrong.

He opened his mouth to ask, but the expression on his eldest brother’s face had him shutting it again.

The youngest was always the protected one. He knew when he wasn’t wanted.

A soft word to John, a brush of fingers against his arm, a glance a Scott and he left.

Perhaps he should go to Virgil. His second eldest brother had always had an ear for him, a kind word of encouragement...

But Virgil had disappeared into his workshop a week ago. Alan had attempted to see him several times, but the man was obsessing over something and didn’t want to talk. To anyone. Alan had even seen Grandma leaving the workshop despondent. Kayo was volatile and worth hiding from if he valued his life. Brains was the only person who managed to hold a conversation with Virgil, but that appeared to be in another language, the engineering concepts were so far above him.

Everything was out of whack, off kilter. IR was barely functioning with two operatives down and everyone was hurting.

Including Alan.

After all, one brother with limbs missing and almost dead from blood loss, and another brother broken in more ways than one.

The only brother left was Gordon.

And god, he needed to talk to him.

Normally, Gordon was his go-to anyway. He went to all his brothers for various things, but Gordon was closest in age and they had always been a pair. So yes, Gordon was most often his confidant and he didn’t hesitate to approach the aquanaut for help.

Except this time, he couldn’t be found.

Tracy Island was under a cloud bank of grief and anxiety. The whole house was steeped in it and this morning the weather was echoing the depression by providing a thick sea fog that obscured everything.

If a brother wanted to hide, it would be easy.

Alan had scoured the house, with no trace of his next eldest brother anywhere. The hangars were next, but module four was empty and, with the exception of Virgil’s workshop, there was no indication that any brother had been down here for days.

That left the beach. If Gordon was worried, he would seek out the ocean. Of course, there was the chance he was in the ocean, but Alan had hope that he hadn’t swum off to wherever it was he ended up on his ocean forays.

He took a guess and headed out to one of his brother’s favourite spots - a rocky beach directly opposite Mateo. It had an array of rock pools always full of life. Gordon had even created a few artificial pools of his own for study purposes. Alan had secretly named it Bay de Gordo. Gordon called it Butt Beach for reasons only known to Gordon.

The fog swirled around him as he made his way past the palm trees and around the bluff. Visibility was minimal and if he hadn’t known the island as well as he did, he could have stumbled himself an injury. It was ghostly. Jagged rock appeared to emerge from the mist and there was no wind. The whole island appeared to be holding its breath.

As the water came into view, Alan let out a breath as a humanoid shape was sketched out in the gloom. Iconically, his brother was decked out in only his swimwear, standing on half-submerged rocks in the lagoon.

Staring out to sea.

“Gordon?”

His brother didn’t respond. He was focussed on the hidden horizon.

“Gordon?”

Alan put his foot onto the first of the rocks and stepping-stoned his way out to the silent figure.

“Gordon!”

The aquanaut startled. “Alan? What the hell?”

“I’ve been calling you.”

“Oh. What do you want?”

Alan frowned. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Sure.”

“What do you want, Alan?”

He fought the urge to take a step back. “To talk.”

“About what?”

“Uh, stuff?”

His brother looked away for a moment, his eyes wandering to the lack of horizon again. A sigh and Gordon ran a hand across his face and into his hair. “Sorry, Allie. This sucks.”

Alan let his shoulders drop. “No kidding.”

Nothing was said for a few minutes, both brothers thinking. But Alan needed to talk. He had to.

“Gordon, why is Scott crying?”

The aquanaut’s head shot up. “Crying? Scott’s crying?”

“Kinda? He had tears in his eyes. John, too.”

A moment of decision in his eyes and Gordon’s whole posture slumped. “It’s Virgil.”

“What?”

“Scott found him pulling out his own feathers attempting to make new ones for John.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Something about needing data. There are gaps in his mark and he was bleeding. Kayo was livid. She and Scott have him bailed up in the infirmary.”

“He was hurting himself? On purpose?” Something inside Alan twisted in pain.

“He said it was the only way. Wants to continue. Needs to pull out more.”

Alan stared at his brother. Gordon obviously wasn’t taking this any better than Alan. His lips were thin enough to be bloodless.

But then Alan thought of John. Of his mangled mark and those two horrible gouges in his back. He thought of his own golden span, as blond as his hair, catching the sun as he flew ever so fast over the ocean. To have that torn from him. To never soar to those heights again.

He looked down at his feet. “I can understand that.”

Gordon was staring. He could feel those russet-brown eyes on him. Out of all five brothers, Gordon would be least likely to understand the joy of flying with only wings for support as he had none of his own.

“Gordon, wouldn’t you do almost anything to help John?”

Voice quiet. “Almost.”

“Then you can’t begrudge Virgil the attempt.”

“I don’t.”

Alan frowned. “What?”

“I don’t.” An indrawn hiss between teeth. “Allie, I need to do some laps.”

“Gordon, can’t we just talk about this a bit?”

“I-“ Gordon was obviously caught between his need for the sea and Alan’s need for him. “Can you give me half an hour? I just need...the water.”

“Okay.” Alan swallowed. “I’ll wait for you here.”

“Thanks, Alan.” He reached out and caught Alan’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze, before turning back towards the sea. The unique mark on his brother’s back shimmered grey and silver, the lines shifting and reforming shape in the foggy gloom.

There were no feather lines on Gordon’s back. Gordon was different from all his brothers. His mark was not static. It shifted with mood and need and want. Today it shifted into a complex wide diamond shape with a thin tail trailing down his back into his swimwear.

And unlike his brothers, when he activated his mark, the mark did not lift from his skin, it sunk into it. The lines sculpting his body, absorbing the human and creating the form chosen.

Today, his mark shone as the aquanaut jumped from stone to stone, gathering momentum. On the last rock, he leapt into the air and, in a swirl of fog, shifted into an eagle ray, diving into the water and disappearing beneath the waves.

Gordon’s transformations never left Alan without a shiver and a wonder of exactly how it felt.

And if he would ever see his brother again.

-o-o-o-

Virgil woke slowly, more slowly than usual and once enough neurons had fired in the right sequence, he recognised the remains of sedation.

Scott.

Damnit.

Rolling onto his back reminded him exactly why Scott might have seen knocking him out a necessary solution. Pain shot up and down his mark and he was forced to roll back onto his stomach.

Ow.

There had been yelling. Scott had been furious. But it was scared furious, not anger. He had terrified his brother.

He sighed as yet another wave of guilt washed over him. A cough, a grimace and he closed his eyes against the images that wouldn’t stop haunting him.

A beach off eastern Australia on the way back from a successful mission. It had been unusual to have John and Kay with him instead of Gordon and Alan. But change could be as good as a holiday and they had a few moments so under the pretence of grabbing a few extra rays of sunshine for John, they had set Thunderbird Two down on the beach and taken a moment for a breather.

John was down from TB5 for a break and it had been great to have his little brother along for the ride. Kay had been an extra pleasure and despite the seriousness of a rescue, they had taken those moments to bond a little and freshen up a few of John’s land-based skills. The beach on the way home had just been a bonus.

Some bonus.

Ten minutes after they had landed, a ship had appeared in the sky, Alan had started yelling in their ears and suddenly there were falling children.

Children. The bastard had thrown children off his ship and watched them fall. All to get the two Tracy boys to do exactly what they did.

Virgil didn’t even think. He was in lift, his mark phasing through his uniform within seconds, wings spreading, his boots tossing up sand as he took a running leap into the air.

John was only a second behind him.

Two children, two rescuers. It was simply planned, but effective. Virgil caught the little boy, John a little girl. Kay had boarded TB2, opening and raising the overhead hatch. Virgil had back-winged, killing off his descent velocity enough to hand the child to Kay, before regaining altitude to help John.

Because behind them was an ominous buzzing. John had his hands full with the little girl and three flying mechanical creatures with outstretched claws were narrowing in on him.

Again, Virgil didn’t think.

Perhaps he should have. It might have changed the outcome.

He threw himself between John and the mechas, his laser deployed, slicing one from the sky almost immediately.

“Virgil Tracy, is it?” On loudspeaker from flying mechanical bugs, it was creepy enough to make him pause. “You’ll do nicely.”

The two remaining mechas suddenly became four and Virgil became seriously outnumbered. Kay was yelling at him over comms that the children were safe. He needed to return to Thunderbird Two.

Easier said than done. He took another one out with his laser, but Virgil couldn’t hover and the bugs had greater manoeuvrability than he.

One clamped onto his right wing and yanked. The pain was blinding. The world spun as he lost altitude and began to fall, mecha grinding bone against metal.

But the sun shone off his brother’s glorious white wings. John’s hands caught him, those wings a white blur of muscle and intent, working ever so hard to stop his spin. John’s hands on his right pinion, untangling the bug’s claw from Virgil’s wing and flinging it away.

The other two mechas snatching his brother from behind, claws digging into white feathers.

Laughter over the loudspeakers.

His own hoarse yell and then his scream as the bug grabbed his wing again and simply broke it. Discarding both him and his wing, it joined the attack on his brother.

No!

That last image of John caught in all those claws; red flecking white as he struggled.

He couldn’t reach his little brother. Couldn’t save him. His wings couldn’t support him. He was falling. The planet up and hit him, ripping conscious thought from his mind.

Kay had to tell him what happened next. Apparently, Thunderbird One had torn onto the scene. It was Scott who caught John as he fell, discarded by the bugs as they buzzed off, precious feathers in their grip. Both John and Virgil had been bundled onto TB2 and there had been a mad dash for Tracy Island.

Virgil had woken in this very room to find out his little brother had had his wings torn from his body and would never fly again.

Scott had tears in his eyes.

Scott.

Crying.

Virgil scrunched his eyes shut and had to force the breath he was holding from his body.

His back complained.

He had lain in this bed as long as he could, but eventually he had fled. Kay had followed and he found himself climbing the stairs to John’s observatory. Perhaps seeing John himself would have been more sensible, but he couldn’t face his brother, unconscious or not.

He still hadn’t seen the astronaut.

How could he face him after such failure?

Virgil adored his brothers, all four of them, but there was something connecting John, Gordon and himself, the middle three. There always had been. He knew the moment Gordon was born. He knew when the bullies cornered John in school - the bullies regretted it immediately. He knew when they were injured or ill. There was something connecting them, something keeping them safe.

But from the moment he had awoken in this room, it had been different.

John was in pain.

John was unconscious, but he was in pain.

At first, Virgil had been unable to get out of bed, so it had been Kay and Scott reassuring him that John was recovering, that he was okay.

But Virgil could feel him. He wasn’t okay.

It was as if ripping off his brother’s wings had ripped open their connection. Virgil could feel that shredded mark as if it was his own. He found himself lifting his wingspan just to reassure himself he still could.

And the emotion. He found himself upset at the slightest thing. There was anger. There was sadness, regret and loss. It was as if he was running the course of grief, but not of his own. He found it difficult to control, difficult to keep calm.

And John was still unconscious.

Confused and caught up in his own response, he told no one. Instead he channelled it. John had lost his wings. John need new wings. It became as simple as that.

Virgil had an artist’s hands and an engineer’s mind. He would make his little brother wings. Not wings to replace his own, but wings that could never be torn from him again.

The concept lit a spark and Virgil made it happen.

A light metal-polymer composite laced with cahelium, finely sculpted by laser. He built pinions large enough to support his brother’s weight and strong enough to fight a hurricane. Artificial muscles supported by an electronic nerve fibre network that on consultation with Brains could interface with his brother’s nervous system.

Brains was working on the most integral component. On lift, their wings phased from an otherspace to their space. They were contained within the mark and were summoned on lift. Brains had found a way to access that otherspace, to manipulate objects within it. To call for the lift.

This is what the Hood had been after. Virgil had no doubt it was. How he had found out about it, the engineer did not know, but the bastard knew and he wanted it.

There was no word in existence that could express the hate Virgil felt for that man. He had taken his father and he had hurt his brother so badly.

The room around him blurred and Virgil had to take a moment to control himself.

A blink. A frown.

John was awake.

His brother wasn’t very far away. Just in the room next door. It was like he was hearing an echo of his brother’s thoughts. No words, no pictures, just expression.

He knew the moment he stumbled out of bed and caught sight of the damage that had been done. The emotion washed over Virgil and his breath caught.

And he heard John call his broken feathers to lift.

Virgil gasped. God, it hurt, but the echo was suddenly overwhelmed by his own body’s pain as his black feathers were called forth.

His mark seared hot as his span manifested. His right wing attempted to unfold and the broken bone screamed at him. It had been healing, but he had been pulling feathers in order to digitally print crucial parts of his creation and it had been exacerbated. The medic in his head feared an infection. The agony at this unexpected stretch almost confirmed it.

Abruptly John aborted his lift, the call faded, and his sea of emotion calmed somewhat.

Eight metres of ink black wingspan collapsed to the floor either side of his bed and Virgil whimpered.

John had called his feathers. How? He let out a breath and blinked tears from his eyes.

Ow.

“Virgil!”

Oh shit. Kay.

She was standing in the doorway glaring at his limp wings. “You can’t keep lifting like this! You need to rest to heal.”

Virgil swallowed, tensed, and folded his span inch by painful inch. His eyes were scrunched shut by the time they were properly retracted. A gasp and he let them go.

His mark flared hot as his feathers settled.

He was panting. There were tears in his eyes again and he blinked them madly away.

A hand on his cheek, gentle, brushing at his stubble.

“I’m sorry.” His voice came out harsh. He blinked again.

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

He opened his mouth to answer and couldn’t. Another swallow and he found a rough whisper. “I don’t know.”

His back ached as pushed himself up and reached for her, but it was worth it to wrap his arms around her. He buried his face in her neck and clung.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #john tracy #kayo kyrano #alan tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy #marks and wings #virgil/kayo

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huntertales · 5 years

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Part One: Family Ties. (As Time Goes By S08E12)

Episode Summary: Sam, Dean and the reader are surprised when a man who claims to be Henry Winchester, the boys' grandfather, suddenly appears in their motel room closet demanding to know where he can find John. Henry has time traveled to the future to stop a demon named Abbadon. Through their grandfather, the brothers and the reader learn more about their bloodline and legacy. The reader even learns about her father, Andrew, and his own past that turned him into a demon. Word Count: 5,868. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Pregnancy was supposed to be a "beautiful thing." Right at this very moment you were creating a new life, a future human that was half of you and half of Dean. While you carried on through your day and slept at night, in your womb the baby was growing its limbs and internal organs, its small little heart was beating away. Maybe it was a wonderful concept. And maybe the struggle would be worthwhile when you were at the end of all of this, with the newborn you carried for nine months cradled in your arms. But right now, from how your morning was going, you wanted pregnancy to be like the way you thought it was when you were six. Where a stork dropped a baby at your front door one day—and congratulations. You’re a parent. There was no morning sickness, no obnoxious symptom to disrupt your daily life.

You were pretty sure this was going to be your first—and only—child you were ever going to have in your life and you were already hating everything about it. You were barely scratching the surface of how symptoms you were going to experience. Not to mention, the body changes you were going to have along with the weight gain, and the worst of it all, the child birth you were going to have to endure for your little bundle of joy. You didn't understand how women out there in this world who went through this multiple times in their lives just to have a family.

"Remind again why I want this baby?"

Sam grimaced slightly from the view he was being subjected to this morning with you face down in the motel toilet, doing everything in your power to make the churning feeling in your stomach go away. You had three glorious days of almost no symptoms that ended with you complaining about the smell of someone's food being awful or you upchucking breakfast. Your streak was broken when you woke up with an upset stomach which you prayed would just remain as what it was. Your luck went sour like your stomach had after you managed to get dressed and ready for the day. This was where Sam found you after he came in your motel room to ask if you wanted breakfast. Your response was throwing up from just even thinking about the word.

"Relax. You have a few more weeks before the morning sickness is supposed to end." Sam, who had been leaning against the door frame, reassured you that the worst would soon be over. Not like he was the one who had to endure this punishment. You lifted yourself up from the toilet to give the man a glare from his stupid facts. Before he could say anything, you found yourself quickly returning back to your position face down when another wave of nausea hit you. "When you're done puking your guts out, make sure you take your prenatal.”

You gave the man a sarcastic thumbs up at the plan as you coughed one more time, getting the last remaining content of your stomach before it was empty. You waited a moment or two for you to gather some strength to lift yourself up from the toilet bowl and push yourself up into a sitting position. You flushed the toilet and contemplated how the hell you were going to get back up on your feet. All though you were starting to feel somewhat normal again, when you attempted to push yourself back up, you were still feeling a little bit dizzy. Sam outstretched his hand for you to grab ahold of so he could easily lift you back up without even breaking a sweat.

“Thanks for the helpful reminder, Mom.” You said. You walked past him and back into your motel room to wash the aftertaste out of your mouth when you fixed yourself a drink of tap water from the small kitchen area and spit it out into the sink after gargling for a few seconds.

"How'd you sleep last night?" Sam curiously asked. You shrugged your shoulder shoulders as you grabbed the light pink bottle from the counter top, thinking the man was just trying to make small talk. But it seemed he was checking up on how you were doing in the exact way you told him to stop doing. "Have you been getting enough?"

"You know, the five cups of coffee with the espresso shot and energy drink that I had yesterday really made it seem like it was gonna be kind of tough. But the handful of Xanax that I took really knocked me out last night." You said. Your tone of voice was causal as you shook out one pill into the palm of your hand. Sam's expression showed you that he wasn't the least bit amused. "Yes, Sammy, I've been getting enough. I try to get at least seven hours, eight if I'm lucky. And if it makes you feel better, I took a nap yesterday from the drive out of Michigan and then crawled right into bed after we got to the motel.”

"Good. I'm just checking." Sam said. You let out a sigh, knowing it was more than just being a concerned friend who was trying to make sure you were getting your recommended sleep. As you filled up your glass with more tap water to help swallow the pill, Sam found himself asking you another personal question. "Have you been making sure you're drinking—"

"Yes, Sam! I've been drinking eight glasses of water. I avoid caffeine. I sleep much as I can and take naps when I don’t get enough. I'm trying not to get stressed. But you're driving me up the wall and making me want to take a drink from all your questions!" You accidentally found yourself snapping at the younger man when you realized he was doing it again. He was being overbearing and obsessed with every move you made. You popped the pill into your mouth and took a sip to swallow it down. "It's not that I don't appreciate you being my midwife. I do. But I think you've just been…”

"Obsessed? I like the term helpful." Sam said. His lips stretched into a small smile as you rolled your eyes. You knew that you would be a nervous wreck without his support. And things had been going smoothly over the past few weeks with him helping you keep track of everything and hold you accountable to the things you needed to do. You couldn't help but feel there was another reason why he was being so helpful, other than for the sake of him doing it because this was your niece or nephew you were carrying. There was always more. “If I have to be honest, it's been a good distraction for me. Another reason to remind me for what I had to do."

"Is the baby the reason why you didn't go back to Amelia?" You asked him in a dead serious tone of voice. You always wondered what really made him want to stick around after he had a life that he wanted for so long, with a woman he loved for the first time in a long while. "What if I wasn't? Would have you stayed anyway?"

"It's part of it. But it was the right thing that I needed to do. There's still so much going on, and soon, it's not just gonna be the three of us." Sam said. His reasoning sounded legitimate and understanding. You nodded your head as you continued to finish the glass of water. "Speak of Dean, I convinced him to stay in town for another day. Said you weren't feeling too good and needed to go to the doctors. I made an appointment at noon for us to see an obstetrician."

You found yourself accidentally starting to choke on the water you were trying to swallow down after you heard the words come out of Sam's mouth. "You, what? You had no right to go behind my back and do that! What if Dean finds out what really is going on?”

“He won't. Not right now. I just want to make sure everything is fine with you and the baby." Sam said. You felt yourself suddenly feeling a little stupid for the outburst you had when your mind wandered in the wrong direction. "You're almost three months and you haven't even been once. Don't you want to be safe?”

"Obviously. I've been dying to take a peek at the thing that's been making me miserable." You mumbled. Your hand rested itself on your stomach as you felt yourself grow a smile at the fact you were going to be able to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time and its tiny little body on the ultrasound. "But it's not like I had the time lately. Between runaway prophets, Cas acting all funky, not to mention you and Dean having your issues. My calender's been kind of booked up."

“Well, clear a few hours for me. I was thinking after we get done with the appointment we could have some lunch. Just the two of us.” Sam suggested. “You know, if you’re done puking your guts out.”

Sam had you thinking the afternoon could have been a nice and sweet bonding time between the both of you, as this was going to be the first spur of the moment appointment you should of had weeks ago, but then he kept on talking. You mocked his smile at his sense of humor and nodded your head for him to start walking out the motel room. after you slipped on your shoes to head to the boys' room that was next door to yours. Dean had been getting ready while Sam was questioning your every life choice you had been making over the past few days.

"Morning, sweetheart." Dean greeted you in his usual way, his boots in his hand. You smiled at him as you attempted to walk past him and to the bed, but you found yourself being pulled back lightly by Dean when he grabbed you by the wrist. You knew exactly what he was trying to do when you saw him leaning forward for a kiss, but for his own safety, you turned your head slightly so his lips hit your cheek instead. He gave you a slightly confused expression at your odd behavior this morning. "What? My morning breath that bad?"

"No. I'm not feeling all that great. Didn't want you to catch whatever I have." You said. You rubbed your stomach as you made your way over to one of the beds to sit yourself down. "I think the diner food I had last night is messing with my stomach or something. Or maybe I have the stomach bug or something. I heard that's going around."

“Really? Weren’t you not feeling too good a couple months ago? Come to think of it, you haven’t been acting all that right for a while now. Maybe you should go to the doctors.” Dean said, agreeing with the plan his brother had discussed with him last night after arriving at the motel that was only supposed to be a one night stay. “You know, I can take you if you want—” “No!” You found yourself cutting off the man from his generous offer from your personal panic at the thought of him going anywhere near the appointment Sam had made for you. Dean’s slightly taken aback expression made you realize what you had done. Your lips stretched into a smile as you composed yourself to give him the fake reason why so he would back off. "No, that's okay. I know you said you wanted to head into town to get some supplies. And complaining last night that you never get any time to yourself. Sam can take me. We'll be gone for a few hours. It works out.” "I mean, I was kidding about the whole 'alone' time. We were stuck in the car together for ten hours. But I got a good night's sleep. I'm ready for the day to be wasted in Urgent Care." Dean said. His words might have sounded like sarcasm, but he was offering up the chance to help figure out what was going on with you. He gave you a smile, wondering if it might help convince you. "I can make Sam do the supply run." “Don’t worry about it, Dean. It’s fine.” You reassured him, brushing off his offer. “Right, Sammy?” “Yeah. Totally.” Sam said. “Don’t worry about it.” Dean felt the slightest bit disappointed at the idea of not taking you, his girlfriend, to do the one thing that he should do when you weren't feeling well. Instead it was his brother who was doing it. Come to think of it, he noticed that you and Sam were acting awfully close these past few weeks since he decided to stay. Closer than normal. Like this morning when he was getting ready. Sam headed over to your motel room after getting ready. Normally the younger Winchester was the early riser, you were next and Dean crawled out of bed a short while later. All of you ended up in the same space to try and wake up with your morning coffee before getting a start on the day. But lately the routine changed. During the times that you and him shared a motel bed he always woke up with you still sleeping right next to him, or still in the same room. But he found himself back to the same sleeping arrangements with his brother like how it used to be while you wanted to bunk alone. And yet he always still found himself waking up with nobody. You and Sam were in your room having a full blown conversation. When he got himself ready and headed over, the second he stepped into the room, the both of you instantly fell silent. And when Dean asked what you were talking about, you always responded with "nothing." Dean didn't know why, but he felt a little bit...left out. It was like he was thrown out of the loop about what was going on. And it seemed like it was important. He knew things between him and his brother were a little bit rough over the past month since he gave up the lifestyle he wanted. Things were slowly getting better every day. But for some reason he found himself feeling like he was being excluded from a secret that you wouldn’t tell him. Maybe it was all in his head. You and Sam could have been discussing the simplest of topics that he might not have been interested in. Yet each time he tried to figure out what you were talking about, you brushed him off that it was just "nothing" or you changed the subject completely. It was nothing, Dean tried to reassure himself.But he didn’t know why that little white lie wasn’t helping him feel better.

Dean mocked his brother at his offer when the man turned his back to go to the bathroom as you sat down on the bed, distracted by your phone when it buzzed a few times to notify you of a new text message. Dean sat himself down on the chair and went to put his shoes on. You felt your lips stretch into a smile at the familiar names pop up on your screen, it was Charlie getting back to you after the both of you had been texting over the past few days since you left the festival to help keep her crown. And the other was from Josh, who wanted to check up on you after not hearing you from so long. You and the boys fell into a moment of silence doing your own things, and as you were writing out a response to Josh to reassure him you very much alive, your attention drifted away from the screen when you heard what to be rattling.

You wondered where it was coming from in the room, expecting it to be near the wall closest to the parking lot when a noisy car was drifting by. However you noticed that it was coming from the most odd place of all—the motel closet door You furrowed your brow in absolute confusion when you heard it open and slam shut without anyone touching it. You tucked your phone back into your pocket when you saw a complete stranger was crouching down on the ground. No rhyme or reason of how he got here. You slowly looked over at the boys, wondering if you were losing your mind. But they were taken back at the stranger in their room.

“Which one of you is John Winchester?” The stranger asked. The three of you responded with blank expressions as you pushed yourself up to your feet as he did the same. But your silent response to a man who had been dead for years wasn’t what he wanted. “Please, time is of the essence! Which one of you is John Winchester?”

"Uh," Sam gave the man a verbal answer. "Neither."

"That's impossible. That's absolutely..." The man muttered underneath his breath, his eyes falling to the ground as he began to think to himself at what step he must have messed up. Your eyes drifted to the boys for a moment, wondering what in the hell was going on here. He wiped his nose, which you noticed was dripping a little bit of blood. "What did I do wrong?"

"Who the hell are you, mister?" Dean questioned the man.

"Not now. I'm thinking." The man said, brushing off the three of you as if you weren't here. Dean did what any smart hunter would do, he slammed the stranger straight into the closet door he jumped out of, pinning him so he couldn't run or do anything stupid. But it seemed the stranger wasn't here to hurt you. "Please. I can assure you there’s no need for violence. One of you must know John Winchester.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Sam said. “when one of us falls out of your closet, then you can ask the questions.

“Yes, my apologies.” The stranger as polite enough to correct his behavior before he directed his attention to the older man that had his forearm pressed against his chest. Is it absolutely essential, sir, that you keep your hands on me?" Dean’s eyes narrowed on the man, as if he was showing that he wasn’t hesitant to pull any moves on him if he had to, but he backed away from the stranger. He pulled out a white handkerchief from his suit pocket to wipe his nose clean. "Thank you. Lady and gentlemen, in the absence of any and all other explanations, I'm afraid this has been a marvelous, tragic misunderstanding. I'll be on my way."

Sam stepped in front of the man, stopping him from going anywhere. “That’s not happening.”

“There are things of grave importance.” The stranger said. It seemed he was growing impatient and frustrated from being stopped to complete what he was trying to do. But you weren’t exactly pleased at seeing an unfamiliar face jumping out of the motel room closet. "I do not have time to deal with the likes of you."

The man tried to step past Sam to get to the door, but in the matter of seconds, Dean whipped out a pair of handcuffs and worked with his brother to get the man pinned down so they could cuff him. "You're not going anywhere, double oh seven.” Dean said. “Till we get some answers.”

You crossed your arms over your chest as you watched the brothers try to cuff the stranger to the motel chair. There was a bit of a struggle between all of them, but when you heard clicking, you thought the stranger was going to be safely secured. However he managed to pull a fast one, somehow cuffing the boys to the chair together. You were too distracted from what just happened, letting the stranger slip away outside. It seemed the stranger who looked like he just jumped out from the "Mad Men" time period knew a few moves.

“How did he do that? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Dean grunted. He struggled to get himself out of the cuffs along with his brother, but it was no use without the key. “You gonna stand there and stare at us Y/N, or are you gonna help us?”

"Nah. I think I’m gonna watch you two Houdini your way out of this one. I've always wanted to learn how you get out of handcuffs so quickly." You sarcastically replied. Dean didn’t think you were the least bit funny. You rolled your eyes and made your way over to the bag where he got the cuffs from to get the key and help them get free. "Relax. Don't get your boxers in a twist."

You helped the brothers get free from the cuffs after you found the key buried deep in one of the pockets. After you did so, the three of you wasted no time in heading out the motel door to see where the stranger wandered off to on foot. You scanned the parking lot to see if you might be able to find a distant figure trying to make a run for it to go where ever he expected to find a dead man. But he wasn't going anywhere on foot. He was trying to hot wire the Impala. Dean wasted no time in creeping up on the man when he was leaning over to pull out a few wires to try and hot wire up the engine. Before he could be successful, the sound of the safety going off Dean's gun made him stop.

“Nice taste in wheels.”

The man sat up straight in the seat, knowing well enough there was no way out of this one. He could try, but it would only end up with a bullet through his skull. “Yours, I presume?”

All of you were back in the motel room with the man with no game, who demanded to know where the late John Winchester was. You stood back with Dean as Sam conducted the usual experiments on the stranger to make sure that he wasn't a monster. He was cut with a silver knife and doused in a bit of borax to cross off shifter or a leviathan. The last step was holy water, which the only reaction he gave was a slight chuckle, seeming to know exactly what it was you were testing him for. He was clean of everything you hunted.

“I could have told you that.” He replied as he pulled down his suit sleeve to cover the slice mark on his arm that proved he wasn’t any monster who was affected by silver.

“Yeah, well, you can start by telling us everything before I beat it out of you.” Dean said, pushing himself up to his feet and approached the stranger with his gun still in his hand.

“I’m quite certain this is all beyond your understanding, my alpha-male-monkey friend.” The stranger thought it was a smart enough to make insults to the man who was holding a loaded weapon. You crossed your arms over your chest as he continued talking as if you were too stupid to understand much of anything. “And violence will not help you comprehend this any easier.”

“Let me tell you what I understand!” Dean shouted at the man. He pointed the barrel of the gun directly at the stranger when he was now leaning down at his level, his other hand holding a fistful of his jacket. “Some asshat pops out of my closet asking about my dad, smashes up my ride. So why am I not getting violent, again?”

"John Winchester is your father?" The stranger asked. He sounded rather surprised, like he had no idea the man he was looking also had a few children of his own. You were starting to wonder who he was and where he came from. Before you could ask for any formal introductions, you found your gaze wandering away from the man when you felt the ground beneath your feet starting to shake again. You looked over your shoulder to see that it was coming from the closet door again, the exact same place where the stranger jumped straight out of. He jumped out of the chair when he realized what was going on. “Oh, my God.”

“What?” You asked him, having a feeling he knew what was coming.

He tried warning for you and the boys to run, but it was too late for that. The motel closet door swung open on its own, and yet another person came walking straight through, but this time, it appeared to a woman dressed like she was straight out of the fifties. You noticed from the style of her dress and the pearl necklace. What caught your attention was the blood stains all over the pale blue fabric. You had a feeling it didn't belong to her. The woman eyed all of you for a moment before directing her attention to the man you were trying to interrogate just moments ago. But it seemed from the turn of events he wasn't the enemy here, she was.

“Henry. Silly man, you forgot to lock the door. But then spells were never your best subject, were they?" The woman spoke directly to the stranger you knew as Henry now. She moved her gaze away from the man and towards the sight of three unfamiliar faces. Dean might have been holding a loaded gun, but she didn't seem the least bit fearful. "Why don't you be a doll and give me what I want? And I promise to kill you and your friends quickly."

“You know I can’t do that.” Henry told her.

Her lips stretched farther into a smile, “You’re not a fighter, Henry.”

When a mysterious woman covered in blood comes through your motel room closet door, you didn't think it was a smart enough to engage in conversation with her. Dean attempted to take his shot when she was momentarily distracted, but she proved herself to a woman of many talents, and something that wouldn't be the least bit harmed with a simple gun. With the simple flick of a wrist, you and the boys found yourself flying backwards across the motel room, your back colliding with the wall before you dropped to the hardwood floors.

You felt yourself momentarily distracted by the pain you felt in your backside before you rolled to your side. You pressed a hand to your stomach as your mind instinctively remembered about the very thing inside of your body that could be lost due to something like this. Being flung across the room and falling was going to leave a lot more damage than just some bruises. You had a couple tumbles here and there, but nothing bad as this. As pain in your backside began to subside, you began looking for any warning signs that something could be wrong—cramping, severe back pain. But you felt fine, the breath knocked out of your lungs started to come back.

“Josie.” Henry tried talking to the woman he must have known, who was possessed by a demon if you had to take a guess. “I know you’re still in there.”

“I’m afraid Josie’s indisposed, pet.” The demon mocked the man. “It looks like it’s just you and me.”

The demon laughed at Henry's attempt to reach his friend that was buried deep inside her own skin. She might have thought that she was in control here, but little did she realize that you had something to kill her once and for all. Dean crept up behind the woman and shoved the demon knife straight into her back.. You heard her let out a piercing scream of pain when she felt the blade being shoved into her backside as she dropped to her knees before Dean yanked out the weapon. Ruby’s knife had never failed you once when it came to killing a demon, but it seemed like this wasn’t the case here. Josie huffed out a heavy breaths as she placed her hand on the lower of her back, easing herself through the pain before she somehow went back to normal.

“What in the fresh hell is going on?” You found yourself muttering underneath your breath. You stared at the demon just across the room who was still breathing, and fully recovered from a wound that should have killed her. When you saw Sam coming forward and helping you back up to your feet, you quickly grabbed a hold of his hand and tried to distance yourself from her far as possible.

“Well,” The demon composed herself as she inhaled another deep breath when the pain finally subsided. “That is no way to treat a lady.”

You didn't exactly want to stick around to see if one more stab wound might be the one to kill the demon once and for all. You had a feeling it would be like poking the beast before she decided to rip you all apart limb by limb. Sam yanked on your arm and nearly pushed you forward so you were in front of him and he could follow right behind. The both of you raced out the front door with his brother and Henry, making a run for it before the demon could decide she wanted a bit of revenge.

You nearly threw yourself into the back and crawled across the leather seats to give Sam much room as you could before he was getting inside himself fast as he could. Dean turned on the engine and backed out of the parking lot in a lightning fast speed, and before you were even prepared, he slammed on the gas pedal, getting all of you the hell out of here. You sank into your seat as you inhale a deep breath from everything that was going on faster than you could keep up with. As the motel began to grow nothing more than a distant landmark in the rear view mirror, you looked over at Sam, having a feeling you weren't going to be making it to that doctor's appointment after all.

+ + +

Dean decided to make the choice of driving into the outskirts of town to give all of you some distance from the demon. It gave you enough time to catch your breath and figure out what was going on, and why she wasn't affected by the knife. The Impala came towards a stop when Dean parked it at least a few miles away from any near places, giving you at least some privacy. You got out of the backseat along with Sam, Henry was the first one out as he bolted straight out to the grassy fields where he could freely get sick from what was going on. You grimaced when you heard the familiar noises you were making just a short time ago. You looked away when he coughed up the contents of his stomach straight to the ground.

"Can you kinda not do that?" You muttered underneath your breath. “I already puked once this morning. I would rather not do it again.”

"Are you okay?" Sam asked the other man, deciding to be the one to show a bit of concern.

“Yes, I will be.” Henry reassured all of you. He pulled out the handkerchief from his pocket once more to wipe away the bile from around his mouth to compose himself and get back up to his feet. “It’s just all the adventures I enjoy are usually of the literary nature.”

"Yeah, well, now that you're done blowing chunks, you want to tell us who Betty Crocker was?" Dean questioned the man, thinking it was about time all of you got some answers to figure out what the hell was going on.

“Abbadon.” Henry answered. “She’s a demon.”

“No kidding. Where’d she come from?” You asked him. “And while we’re at it, where did you come from?”

"She's from hell." Henry said. Your face fell in annoyance at the blatant answer you could have figured out for yourself. He adjusted his suit sleeves and continued on answering your questions about himself. "I'm from Normal, Illinois—1958."

"Yeah, right." Dean smiled slightly, thinking the man was pulling his leg for the hell of it. Henry responded by giving the older Winchester a deadpan stare. When you realized the man was telling the truth, you let out a sigh, wondering how your life always kept getting stranger and stranger the more you stayed in this hunting business. "Seriously? Dude's time traveling through motel room closets? That's what we've come to?"

“Well, think of it this way,” You said, trying to see the silver lining of this situation. “at least the crazy is coming to us this time.”

“If you could just take me to John, we could clear all this up, I'm sure.” Henry said.

“I've told you that's not gonna happen.” Dean said in a sharp tone. Henry had the audacity to ask why he couldn't. The older Winchester was feeling himself being pushed to the edge of what his patience would allow himself to handle before he lost it on the stranger he only knew the first name of and the year he was from. And for some reason he wanted to see a man that had been long gone. So, Dean turned to the man to tell him the cold, hard truth. “Because he’s dead!”

Henry's face dropped from the information that made it seem like his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach just from the expression on his face alone. He found himself muttering no underneath his breath only for him to hear as he turned around, his back to the three of you. You furrowed your brow slightly from his reaction that seemed rather odd. John could have only been so young back in the late fifties. You didn't understand why this Henry person traveled fifty-five years into the future to see him.

"What's it to you?" Sam asked the man.

"Everything." Henry said. "I'm his father."

You felt yourself being thrown through a loop at what you just heard. You've traveled back in the past twice to meet Mary and John when they were still a young couple, you've even met the boys' grandparents on their mother's side. But you've never had the pleasure of meeting John's father, who you heard walked out on the family when he was a young child. And here the man was, somehow in the year 2013, time traveling and dragging along demons with him.

In this very moment you were standing next to two Winchester generations. And if that wasn’t weird enough, you were carrying the future generation that would be brought into this in the next seven and a half months. There was one question that crossed your mind; What the hell were you getting yourself into with this family?

[Next Part]

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douxreviews · 5 years

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Gotham - ‘They Did What?’ Review

Gordon: "For Gotham!"

When FOX kicks the support beams out from under you and says that the narrative you had planned to normally span across a twenty-two episode season now has to be condensed down to ten episodes, I guess it makes sense that your last few episodes are going to feel more like a paint-by-numbers project as you struggle to quickly wrap up character arcs so that those characters in question can resemble their comic counterparts.

Any remaining characteristic that Gotham hasn't shown the genesis for is abruptly wrapped up here in 'They Did What?' - Oswald loses an eye and gets his monocle, Bruce summons a colony of bats, Gordon's daughter is named 'Barbara,' and Gordon gets his promotion to Commissioner. And there's really no weight behind any of these developments, they just sort of happen because... they need to happen. Last year, in Thomas Ijon Tichy's review of 'The Sinking Ship, The Grand Applause,' he mentioned how there wasn't much of a thread that connected the plot points or character moments of that episode, "Things Just Happen." And that's mostly how I feel about this sudden conclusion to 'They Did What?', things just happen and there's no rhythm or flow to a lot of them.

Nyssa abducts Barbara instead of just killing her like she said she was going to do, and wants to raise Barbara's child as her own. Barbara manages to stab her in the gut but she still walks it off. Nyssa locks Gordon and Barbara in a room so she can make her escape. Gordon is able to kick the door down anyway. Bane's invasion overpowers and takes over the GCPD but instead of killing Gordon and Bruce like he said he was going to do, he takes a detour just so he can ambush Bruce and Selina in an alleyway. Bruce saves Selina by summoning a colony of bats because of course he just happens to acquire at the last-minute sonar equipment. The terrified refugees of Gotham City attempting to flee underground return to the surface anyway so they can stare down Bane and a firing squad. Nyssa escapes in Oswald's submarine alone even though it was stated two people are needed to pilot that thing.

For once, I don't know if the cobbled-together writing here can be blamed solely on the showrunners though because simply we just don't know if their intended 'vision' for Season 5 was meant to last an entire year before FOX cut their air time down to size.

If there is a highlight though for this episode (and there are several, mind you), it begins with where we began this year. The sequence of Gordon, Bullock, Oswald and Nygma suiting up and taking the stand against Bane's army in a dire effort to protect the GCPD I confess had me energized and eyes glued to the screen, and even if it's incredibly jarring that for some reason this sequence occurs in daylight while the standoff shown in 'Year Zero' was happening at nightfall, it's an absolutely energizing scene. Never mind the fact that Bane's army, which supposedly outnumbered the GCPD six-hundred to thirty-one, has the firing accuracy of an Imperial Stormtrooper, this scene had wit, it had rapport, it even had a little bit of heart (turns out Oswald loses his eye while defending Nygma), and it's oddly enough a nice depiction too of an incredibly dysfunctional group willing to set aside past grudges to defend in any way they can the city that is a part of them, that has had a hand in each of their upbringings.

I was a little skeptical at first of why Oswald would be wiling to come back and put his life on the line for Gotham City after going through so much trouble to leave it behind and start life anew elsewhere. But of course, Robin Lord Taylor's performance in the office-sequence across from Gordon completely convinced me, and as much as I love his chemistry with Cory Michael Smith, Taylor and Ben McKenzie are also a phenomenal pair when they get scenes like this one. In many ways, their portrayals of Penguin and Gordon have shown they can at times be inverted versions of the same individual, and by now have established this nice ebb-and-flow of knowing when to work together, and when they can be at each other's throats.

It's unfortunate that so late in the game Gotham is somewhat hinting at a redemption arc for Barbara because she's so endearing and likable when she's anything but a psychotic mob boss. I liked her character just fine enough for the first half of Season 1, and even though as a character, she's been through the grinder time and time again, but Erin Richards, like Taylor and Smith, just has that charm to her that makes her enjoyable to watch when she's spirited and vibrant as opposed to being so full of anger, venom and angst.

Shippers of Oswald and Nygma will probably seethe at the resolution to their arc until they're blue in the face, but I personally enjoyed it nonetheless. At the end of it all, Nygma's decided that he felt nothing, no hint of triumph, joy or euphoria, even when Gotham City is rejoicing for their salvation. The very city he put his life on the line to defend. Because it sickens him just knowing he had to associate himself with the civilian population that he considers intellectually inferior to him. Nygma relapsing into his megalomaniac egotistical persona is such a 'Riddler' thing of him to do, and it inspires Oswald to agree with his notion that they shouldn't have to ever think about changing who they are to please everyone else - they're criminal masterminds and if that's what fate has planned for them, then so be it. And as amusing as an on-screen visual it was, I don't think Nygma and Oswald secretly pulling blades on each other with the intention of double-crossing the other adds anything to this ending, simply because the scene succeeds in getting across anyway the notion that they're brothers-in-arms, and will be for the time being - blades or no blades.

Something I've been dreading for a while has finally reared its ugly head in this episode, and because we now know the series finale is actually a time-jump, there's no room at all left for Gotham to resolve it: the very reason Batman even exists in the first place. In the five years we have journeyed with Bruce Wayne on his quest to rise one day as Gotham's caped crusader, Gotham has forgotten to address two core aspects to what makes Batman... well, Batman. And those are why does Bruce Wayne/Batman need to work outside the law and why is Bruce's motif bats?

Rather than deliver on the indication that Bruce was going to be infiltrating and dissolving gang factions throughout the city this year, Bruce instead spends much of this season assisting the GCPD, and by the end of this season, not only is Gordon's lineup of cops shown to be capable of holding off Bane's army of grunts, but it is a mob of ordinary civilians that is able to coerce Bane's army into standing down and turning on Bane himself. In the end, we can't help but wonder then 'why would this city even need a lawless vigilante?' What has shown Bruce that the municipal government of the city is incapable of enforcing proper law and order?

And then there's the bat motif. "But Aaron, Bruce had a vision of bats and Batman back in Season 4!" I understand that, but that isn't enough. That silhouette with the signature bat ears poking up in Bruce's vision still needs a point of origin. In response to that argument, Batman cannot create himself. Otherwise, what is stopping Bruce from fashioning his cowl and armor to resemble just about anything he wants? The design and appearance of Batman is tied in many renditions of the character to Bruce's fear of bats themselves. Several times in the past it has been hinted by David Mazouz among others that Bruce's fear of bats would be a plot point explored in this series, but ultimately, that never came to pass. Yes, Lucius gives Bruce some tech that utilizes sonar which just happens to have a side effect of attracting certain animals, but at this point in the series, when we're so close to the finish line, this feels more than anything else like an afterthought as opposed to a development that will leave an impact on Bruce and something he feels is necessary to incorporate into his campaign of vigilantism.

I almost feel like my energy could be best utilized in other departments then commenting on what a trainwreck Gotham's interpretation of Nyssa Al Ghul is. Almost. For goodness' sake, the series itself seems to even have no concept of this character's identity because literally any quote delivered by a character concerning Nyssa contains what we already know - that she wants Bruce and Barbara dead, and she wants to destroy Gotham. Over and over again, that's spoon-fed to the viewer, like they're fussy children and Gotham is the mother trying to get them to eat their peas. For all her bluster that she is an 'Al Ghul' and that stronger people than Gordon and Barbara have tried and failed to kill her, in the end, she scampers off with her tail between her legs (unknowingly dog-napping Edward the bulldog in the process. That absolutely hurt me.), marking her as the final of many quite forgettable antagonists Gotham has had to offer. Do I even need to comment on the low blow that is this character threatening a defenseless infant with a dagger?

So in the end, Gotham City earns its salvation, Gordon gets his promotion, and Bruce pulls the "Dear John" letter trope from Season 3's finale and uses it to tell Selina that he's leaving Gotham City for...reasons. The real kicker here was knowing though that Camren Bicondova has evidently been recast as an older Selina Kyle for Gotham's series finale, which genuinely saddens me now knowing that a scene containing her realizing Bruce has also essentially walked out on her life is the last moment we have with this actress.

Aaron Studer loves spending his time reading, writing and defending the existence of cryptids because they can’t do it themselves.

#Gotham #Batman #James Gordon #Bruce Wayne #Oswald Cobblepot #Edward Nygma #Selina Kyle #Gotham Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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omg-johndel-b-villarin · 4 years

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ASYNCHRONOUS TASK NO. 3

ACTIVITY 1:

this page by putting an arrow to the object/s. [No need to indicate what type of Figures of Speech they are]

Notes: Most Commonly Used Figure of Speech

1. Alliteration is the repetition of initial sounds in neighboring words.

Example: Fresh fern fronds from the forest

2. Allusion is a figure of speech that quickly stimulates different ideas and associations using only a couple of words, thus making an indirect reference.

Example: Describing someone as an “Adonis” makes an allusion to the handsome young shepherd loved by the goddess of love and beauty herself in the Greek myths.

3. Anaphora is a stylistic device that consists of repeating a sequence of words at the beginning of neighboring clauses to give emphasis.

Example: You are lovely, you are gorgeous, you are pretty, you are glorious, you are, you are, you just are!

4. Anticlimax refers to a figure of speech in which a word is repeated and whose meaning changes in the second instance.

Examples: He got his dignity, his job, and his company car.

In the car crash, she lost her life, her car, and her cell phone.

5. Antiphrasis is a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is used to mean the opposite of its normal meaning to create ironic humorous effect.

Example: She is 65 year young.

6. Antithesis is a figure of speech that refers to the juxtaposition of opposing or contrasting ideas. It involves the bringing out of a contrast in the ideas by an obvious contrast in the words, clauses, or sentences within a parallel grammatical structure.

Example: To many choices, too little time.

7. Apostrophe is an exclamatory rhetorical figure of speech in which a speaker or writer breaks off and directs speech to an imaginary person or abstract quality or idea.

Example: Oh, moon! You have seen everything!

8. Assonance is a figure of speech that refers to the repetition of vowel sounds to create internal rhyming within phrases or sentences.

Example: A certain purple curtain, captain. (note: cer in cetain, pur in purple, and cur in curtain. Also tain in certain, curtain, and captain.)

9. Climax refers to the figure of speech in which words, phrases, or clauses are arranged in order of increasing importance.

Example: Three things will remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.

10. Euphemism is a figure of speech used to express a mild, indirect, or vague term to substitute for a harsh, blunt, or offensive term.

Example: saying “passed away” for “died”

Saying “in between jobs” to mean “unemployed”

11. Epigram refers to a concise, witty, memorable, and sometimes surprising or satirical statement.

Example: Oscar Wilde’s “I can resist everything but temptation,” or “I am not young enough to know everything.”

12. Epiphora (or epistrophe) is a rhetorical device that consists of repeating a sequence of words at the end of neighboring clauses to give them emphasis.

Example: “…a government of the people, by the people, for the people. (Note: The phrase the people is repeated twice after it was first mentioned.)

13. Hyperbole is a figure of speech that uses exaggeration to created emphasis or effect; it is not meant to be taken literally.

Example: I told you a million times to clean your room.

14. Irony is a figure of speech in which there is a contradiction of expectation between what is said and what is really meant. It is characterized by an incongruity, a contrast, between reality and appearance.

Example: The explanation is as clear as mud.

15. Litotes is a figure of speech consisting of an understatement in which an affirmative is expressed by negating its opposite.

Example: Instead of saying that someone is “ugly” you can say that someone is “not very pretty.”

Instead of saying that the situation is “bad” you can say that it is “not good”.

16. Merism is a figure of speech by which something is referred to by a conventional phrase that enumerates several of its constituents or traits.

Example: saying “young and old” to refer to the whole population

Saying “flesh and bone” to mean the whole body

17. Metaphor s a figure of speech that makes an implicit , implied or hidden comparison between two things or objects that are poles apart from each other but have some characteristics common between them.

Example: The planet is my playground. The Lord is my shepherd.

18. Metonymy is a figure pf speech in which a thing or concept is not called by its own name, but by the name of something intimately associated with the thing or concept.

Examples: Using “Malacaňang” to refer to the president or the government

Saying “a hand” to mean “help”

19. Oxymoron is a figure of speech that combines incongruous or contradictory terms.

Examples: open secret, virtual reality, sacred profanities

20. Personification is a figure of speech in which a human characteristics are attributed to an abstract quality, animal, or inanimate object.

Example: Red punctuates and makes bold statements, says something, and means it like an exclamation point!

21. Simile is a figure of speech directly comparing two unlike things, often introduced the word, like or as.

Examples: A smile as big as the sun. She prays like a mantis.

22. Synecdoche is a figure of speech in which a part of something is used to represent the whole of something is used to represent part of it.

Examples: Sixty hands voted. (The part “hand” is used to refer to the whole person)

The country supported the president. (The word “country” is used to refer to the people.)

23. Understatement is a figure of speech used by its writers or speakers to deliberately make a situation seem less important or serious that it really is.

Examples: A nurse to give an injection saying, “It will sting a bit.”

To describe a disappointing experience, a participant may say, “It was …different.”

ACTIVITY 2:

LITREADITURE!

Look for literary pieces and take note some lines in it that expresses figures of speech listed below. Write your answers on the space provided. (One example for each)

1.ALLUSION: The Outsiders (1967) by S. E. Hinton

"Ponyboy."

I barely heard him. I came closer and leaned over to hear what he was going to say.

"Stay gold, Ponyboy. Stay gold ... " The pillow seemed to sink a little, and Johnny died.

2.ANAPHORA: "London," William Blake

In every cry of every Man,

In every infant's cry of fear,

In every voice, in every ban,

The mind-forg'd manacles I hear

3.EUPHEMISM:Dropping the Euphemism, Bob Hicok

When I said

I have to lay you off

a parallel universe was born

in his face, one where flesh

is a loose shirt

taken to the river and beaten

against the rocks. Just

by opening my mouth I destroyed

his faith.

4.EPIGRAM: Sonnet 76 (By William Shakespeare)

“So all my best is dressing old words new,

Spending again what is already spent:

For as the sun is daily new and old,

So is my love still telling what is told.”

5.LITOTES: Fire and Ice (By Robert Frost)

“Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if I had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.”

6.METONYMY: Bartleby the Scrivener (Herman Melville)

As I afterwards learned, the poor scrivener, when told that he must be conducted to the Tombs, offered not the slightest obstacle, but in his pale, unmoving way, silently acquiesced.

7.OXYMORON: Romeo and Juliet (William Shakespeare)

Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow,

That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

8.MERISM: "There is a working class—strong and happy—among both rich and poor; there is an idle class—weak, wicked, and miserable—among both rich and poor." (John Ruskin, The Crown of Wild Olive, 1866)

9.ANTITHESIS: Community (By John Donne)

“Good we must love, and must hate ill,

For ill is ill, and good good still;

But there are things indifferent,

Which we may neither hate, nor love,

But one, and then another prove,

As we shall find our fancy bent.”

10.IRONY: The Necklace (Guy de Maupassant)

“You say that you bought a necklace of diamonds to replace mine?”

“Yes. You never noticed it, then! They were very like.”

And she smiled with a joy which was proud and naïve at once.

Mme. Forestier, strongly moved, took her two hands.

“Oh, my poor Mathilde! Why, my necklace was paste. It was worth at most five hundred francs!”

JOURNAL WRITING:

Journal Entry #2

What’s the language of the piece?

Read a literary piece (prose or poetry). Review and examine the language used by the author (Tone, Diction, Style and Figures of Speech). Include photographs to add creativity and visuals in your writing. Your answers must not be less than ten sentences.

To an Athlete Dying Young

Title

A. E. Housman

Author

A. E. Housman has also include literary devices in his poem in tittled " To an athlete dying young" to express and share his feelings towards the athlete. The literary devices used are: Personification, Assonance, Metaphor, Oxymoron, Consonance, Symbolism, and Enjambment.

The poem or him shows the run or the cycle of how a man's life goes. The first stanza shows how people (close one) gets happy, great, and proud seeing us fighting to live and achieve our goals. But nothing last forever, time will come and all of these will stop. And all of those who really know, support, and been there for us will also be the one who will march our dead body towards our grave. Even our glory, dreams, achievements, and hardwork will be gone. It stated there that our lives is like how fast a single roses losses its own petals. Our eyes will forever be close it will be dark as a night and there will never be any color. Whole body will be numb nothing to hear, nothing to fell. And only those close ones will remember our name and our deeds. Life is a competition and we should keep running 'til everything stops. Everything has its ending point. It has no exemption and that everyone includes our life.

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ks-caster · 4 years

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Let’s Talk About Murphy and Religious Symbols

Okay, so this post originated as a response to this post by @osleyakomwonkru - and then I realized I totally changed the subject from Octavia to Murphy and you might not want to have Discourse in your replies, so here it is on its own.

To summarize: In season 7, episode 6 of The 100, John Murphy expresses to Indra that he thinks she was the real leader of Wonkru while Octavia was off “painting her face with blood.” This is rage-inducing because A) He wasn’t there and doesn’t get an opinion, B) it’s factually incorrect - for better or worse my girl Octavia was making all of the major decisions from the Dark Year onward with little to no help, and C) it seems like they just stuck that in there as a lazy writers’ handwave to get Indra to step up and take charge (rather than taking 10 minutes to think about continuity with their own canon when they were writing his lines).

Now, I fully agree with this post that it’s probably just shitty writing - there’s been a lot of that going around this show especially in the later seasons lol. But.

BUT.

What if it’s not?

Because now that I think about it - Murphy has a history (moreso than any other character I think) of not understanding or respecting cultural or religious symbolism. In fact, one of the reasons I like him so much is that he’s my bro when it comes to:

[Image ID: Samuel L. Jackson in the well-memed scene from Snakes on a Plane. The text has been altered to say “I have had it with these motherfucking religions on these motherfucking planets.” End ID.]

Adding a cut to save a scroll finger because this got long lol

From here on out, I’m going to be very critical of religion as a concept; in real life I think religion is pretty cool and I happen to have one of those myself, but I also recognize that religious trauma is a very real thing.

The more I go through Murphy’s scenes in the show, the more I think that’s exactly where they’re going with him.

What do we know about John Murphy and authority, especially when it’s derived from religious beliefs?

Season 1:

He did not grow up with theocracy as a normalized concept. The Ark had one visible religion, and it does not appear to have any significant political clout or implications.

The Ark’s laws and power structure were based on scientific knowledge and the needs of the many.

Side note: There’s been speculation among fandom that Murphy was locked up when he was quite young. I agree with this spec.

However whether or not it’s true, we know that Murphy does not like authority in general, because the draconian laws on the Ark killed both of his parents.

Out of 7 council members shown on screen, we know the day jobs of 2 of them: Doctor (Abby) and former engineer (Jaha). Leaders are chosen based on necessary skills.

Season 1 occurred over a span of 29 days (source). For Murphy, 11 of those days were spent supporting Bellamy as leader - while he promoted a certain level of anarchy for the first 7, the next 4 were spent building defenses.

Murphy has a certain amount of clout as Bellamy’s assistant, and uses it to be an asshole, like that time he peed on that kid who asked for water.

After this week and a half, Murphy is lynched by an angry mob for a murder he didn’t commit.

On the evening of day 12 he is banished - on day 23 he returns, having been captured and tortured by the grounders (specifically Indra I think) for presumably most of that time.

To sum up: Murphy’s experience with authority in his early life is that it’s basically just something to abuse people with (his parents, him, what he did to others etc.)

Season 2:

Murphy goes on a long hike with Jaha, and has his first experience with religious zealotry. Jaha will sacrifice people for his beliefs without a second thought, and in the end all they find is a field of old solar panels.

Murphy is then sealed in the lighthouse bunker for 86 days. (FYI, 15 days of solitary is considered torture. Source.)

Murphy’s first experience of religion is that it’s a ridiculous belief, based on almost no facts, that gives people the freedom to behave irrationally and harm others, and that not only does it turn out to lead to exactly jack shit at the end, that was enforced for him by having almost 6 times the length of time in solitary to be considered torture for him to think about what a no good very bad idea it was for him to come out here in the first place.

Prior to his journey with Jaha, Murphy’s experience of power is that it’s something people control you with using the threat of force. But now he’s been exposed to religion, which controls people through their own beliefs. When someone is trying to use force on you, you can just grab a gun and shoot them. But how do you fight against a belief?

Season 3:

Murphy is released from the lighthouse bunker after seriously considering suicide - so his mental state is not awesome right now.

Jaha is still just as into the religion concept as he was before Murphy got to spend over two months in solitary

Gideon (who is already chipped when we meet him unless I misunderstand the episode) is frankly a creepy mf. He tries to strangle Emori, who has to kill him because “there is no pain in the city of light,” meaning that nonlethal force will not save Emori’s life.

Emori’s brother Otan goes for a walk with Jaha and comes back chipped. He takes Emori hostage, and Murphy takes ALIE’s case hostage in response. Through this exchange, Otan is valuing a plastic backpack higher than his sister’s life, while Jaha is still trying to convert Murphy.

Murphy gets captured, and the grounders find the CoL chip and say it’s a sacred symbol.

He’s taken to be tortured by Titus, who as Murphy describes it, prays to garbage.

Upon examining Titus’s beliefs, Murphy realizes that they’re tied to the thirteenth station. Once again, a religion that allows people to kill other people is based on something old and ridiculous - praying to garbage indeed.

After Lexa’s death, a bunch of literal children are supposed to fight to the death for her throne. Murphy was all set to watch some guys fight to the death over a dumb computer chip - but he looked awfully sick when he realized they were all children.

Then instead of that (which is already horrific) Ontari turns up and murders them all in their sleep - Murphy gets to see all the little chopped off heads. All of this is done in the name of the grounder religion.

In the wake of this nastiness, Murphy becomes a fake fleimkepa to save his life (Because Titus threw him to the wolves to buy time for Clarke). Ontari chains him up at night and at least once coerces him into having sex with her.

Ironically, at least everything Ontari did was with regular old threat of force, since her power as Heda was limited - being a fake

Emori - the only person Murphy explicitly loves and trusts at this point in the show - takes the chip, in an attempt to save him, which causes her to betray him.

Once everything’s said and done, and he’s able to remove his hand from his dead rapist’s chest cavity, Emori has been released from the AI and has returned to him. The oppressive religion has been defeated.

The moment when Murphy gets Emori back has to be the most intense and genuine joy and relief he’s expressed on screen to date.

Season 4:

The world is ending, and the supposed adults are all completely incapable of getting along long enough to save everyone without the crutch of religion.

Roan can rule the clans (sort of) but only with the claim that he’s holding the throne for the next Heda

Nightblood could have saved everyone, but it’s genetically rare thanks to the religious tradition of rounding up each generation and culling them down to one survivor.

Clarke can’t even take over as Heda to keep everyone from killing each other because her completely usable nightblood is “fake.”

They find a bunker - which was put together by religious fanatics who had fake bunkers for the lesser believers - which is super fucked up.

Murphy and Emori were safe inside the bunker until Octavia won the conclave.

Because she was the survivor of what’s effectively a Grounder religious ceremony, Octavia gains the power to decide that Skykru only gets 100 beds, kicking out those who were already in the bunker, safe in the beds they’d chosen.

This may likely mean death for Murphy, and DEFINITELY means death for Emori. It’s only been 44 days since he got her back, and he’s either going to die with her, or if he’s lucky, he’ll just lose her again permanently.

Thanks to Raven, Bellamy and the rest of spacekru, they both survive. In the interim between seasons 4 and 5, Murphy lived six years with (probably) no religious influences other than maybe coming across a chapel or reference to the Ark’s cute little worship-the-bonsai-tree religion.

Now seasons 1-4 take place over 200 days. For reference, today (June 26th, 2020) is only the 177th day into 2020. Now 2020 has been a hell of a ride, and the events of The 100 are significantly more drastic. So lots of character development, relationship changes etc. makes complete sense.

But imagine you lived through 2020 until mid-July (ugh, I wonder what next month’s apocalypse bingo will be...) and then you spent the next 6 years fairly insulated from what happened, in a safe place with little conflict other than what you manufactured (remember, this is Murphy we’re talking about lol).

And then, come July-ish 2026, you go back home for the first time (after a little torture session with a creepy convict dude) and someone mentions biological warfare (for example) as a reasonable idea.

Wouldn’t you be a little bit more sensitive about it than someone who didn’t live through the Coronavirus?

Season 5:

As we know from the flashbacks, Gaia reconstructed the Grounder religion into the Wonkru Cult, with Octavia as Blodreina. “The blood of our enemies is her armor.”

In other words, “Octavia painting her face with blood” was a religious symbol - and so Murphy, who has massive and obvious trauma with regards to religion, makes some mean jokes, but otherwise does not engage mentally or emotionally, or make any attempt to understand whatever the hell was/is going on down there.

He simply does not vibe with it.

While Murphy has a rough go if it in season 5 with Eligius, the religious/culty stuff mostly leaves him alone in season 5 because he spends the majority of his time in Shallow Valley instead of with Team WTF Is Going On With Octavia. His knowledge of the Wonkru cult would be largely secondhand.

Additionally, the little 12-year-old girl who loved funny stories about him now has a killer AI stuck in her brain. I don’t remember getting to see him react to this, but by the end of the season he can’t have not known about it, at least.

The parts of season 5 where Murphy is not on the ring take place over a span of 18 days. They board the cryoship, go to sleep, and when they wake up, they’re orbiting Sanctum.

Season 6:

Hey look, the planet of the bodysnatcher religion! In other words, Murphy Trauma Central.

Murphy dies, and has a horrible hallucination of what he thinks is hell (this is never explained, actually, which irks me. I was waiting for that plotline to be resolved.)

During Murphy’s childhood, he got to watch his mother slowly turn into someone else (alcoholism, grief, then suicide). And during season 3, he gets to watch a bunch of people (particularly Emori) turn into not themselves. Also during season 3, Murphy was the chosen pawn of a powerful young woman who used him to fool people so she could have power, in conjunction with a religious tradition.

While he may not have had a close relationship with Clarke, Josephine must have been like a nightmare to him - bodysnatcher lady who has picked him as her chosen pawn to help her fool people in conjunction with a religious tradition.

Between all of Murphy’s trauma regarding religion and his newly refurbished fear of dying, he has to make a choice whether to get in good with this religion and save his and Emori’s lives, or probably die (again) or get bodysnatched himself for all he knows.

Frankly, that’s not a choice. Not for him, not then. He signs himself up for the creepy religion. He hopes to save Bellamy et al along the way.

Then Abby gets bodysnatched and dies. Honestly I don’t remember why he has a close relationship with Abby, but he does. It’s the last straw - he walks away from his immortality into almost certain death, but then, since Clarke and Madi defeat the Primes, and he and team sanctum defeat the adjustment protocol, he lives on* for season 7.

*Legally named Daniel Prime.

And now we’ve arrived at season 7.

Murphy has never wanted anything to do with (any) religion, and he wants even less to do with the bodysnatching creepy religion that killed Abby. Not to mention, they want him to pretend to be Emori’s brother in public. It’s a funny plot point as a watcher, but from his perspective? Dude, his relationship with her is the best thing that’s ever happened to this guy. Invalidating that is salt in an already massive wound.

So Murphy is a fake deity, a fake brother, and for the first time in his life, he’s handed a whole bunch of religious-based political power and expected to just deal with that. Surrounded by different, equally violent factions who all hate each other (and some of which want him dead) he is supposed to pretend to be in charge - but actually just do whatever Clarke et al tells him to do.

Murphy started having a very specific nightmare at the beginning of season 6 and he hasn’t woken up yet.

7x06. Nakara. I’ll admit, I drank before watching it - a thing I generally do if I suspect from the trailer that I’ll need to care about Clarke for more than 3 minutes of screentime. I’m a happy drunk, so I enjoyed the episode. But that conversation with Murphy and Indra threw me - first as you’ll see in my liveblog because since when the fuck is Indra not a leader? She was the leader of Trikru from Anya’s death until Trikru was dissolved to become part of Wonkru. WTF.

Second, him saying that clearly Indra was really in charge while Octavia was painting her face with blood.

Now, I dismissed that line on my initial watch, because it was obviously factually incorrect, and how would Murphy know anyway? But now that I think about it, I think it was desperate, wishful thinking on Murphy’s part. By now, he has to want so badly for one grown-up - any grown-up - with leadership experience and skills, to take charge, knock some sense into people, and straighten out the shit he’s fallen into. Again.

Wonkru won’t do jack shit without a religious motivation, and thanks to that, they almost blew up in a(nother) nuclear explosion, and he had to be party to the incidental murder of a guy that he honestly thought was kinda’ cool - and now cool guy’s wife will probably try to murder him thanks to the association. Again.

Murphy is desperate for some kind of normal leadership, and historically (no matter what bullshit they made her say in that episode) Indra has been a capable and sensible leader. Maybe a little violent for Murphy’s tastes, but at this point, he’ll take her. And in his eyes**, Octavia’s “cult leader phase” was frightening, ineffective and easily overridden - while Indra has always been leading people when Murphy has known her.

**Remember, Murphy’s experience of Octavia as Blodreina was two weeks from him landing on Earth to her abdicating and bending the knee to Madi - and he didn’t get to see much of it firsthand.

Was Indra running things while Octavia was off painting her face with blood? No. Should she have been? Probably. But this is a show about teenagers so they wind up in leadership positions for plot reasons, so whatever. That’s a different meta. But as far as Murphy’s concerned, he needs it to be the truth like he needs Indra to take charge in Sanctum and get him off the altar (in more ways than one).

I don’t like it - but I understand it.

#The 100 #the 100 season 7 spoilers #the 100 7x06 #the 100 meta #john murphy #religion tw #not like real ones - the ones on the show #although what I describe Murphy going through is something that some irl friends of mine have gone through in their own way too #discussion of religious trauma #this got deeper than I intended #suicide mention #rape tw #covid 19 mention #alcoholism mention #this thing wound up being a great big pile of tws #actually though that's just the show isn't it lol

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heathergoffrier · 4 years

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How Do I Trust God With My Family's Safety?

How do I trust God with my family's safety? Heather dives into this question, revealing surprising answers that help her deal with fear whenever it pops up.

We hope you enjoy the products we recommend! This post may contain affiliate links. That means we get a portion of the commission if you click through and make a purchase, but you don't pay a cent more. Thank you for supporting our small business as we strive to help you rock mom life! When I heard the news that Kobe Bryant had passed away, I was standing in a Nike outlet check out line. A man came into the store with a shocked look on his face, and spoke to another man ahead of me in line. "Kobe died." He said, and those of us around didn't answer as we processed. "Kobe Bryant? You know, Kobe? He died," the man continued, seeing disbelief on our faces. I didn't love or hate Kobe. I don't watch the NBA. But I did play basketball in high school and college and I coached hoops for several years. You can't be around the sport without hearing of and at least appreciating Kobe's incredible skills. And, in the wake of his passing, I learned about his contribution to his community and to youth sports, which paints a bigger, better picture of him as a whole. Regardless, his death caused me to stop and think quite a bit. His passing was no more tragic than any "regular" person passing away. Knowing that his daughter had also been in that helicopter, along with several other families, increased the scope of the tragedy. But the far-reaching impact of this situation stood out, because unlike with a non-celebrity death, his passing touched millions. Whatever you thought (or didn't think) of Kobe, thinking of his wife and kids left with the aftermath raises a scary issue for moms:

How do I trust God that my family members won't meet the same fate?

I've been pondering this topic for a while now, because several months ago I learned of the death that hit much closer to home. A graduate of my high school, from the class behind mine, died in a tragic farming accident. I didn't know him well, but I'm connected to many who did, so I watched, prayed and grieved from afar on behalf of those who felt the loss deeply. He was a young husband and father of three, beloved by his family and community. Though we weren't in the same grade or circles, it was a small school with an "everyone knows everyone" kind of feeling. And, I realized that in the wake of such a tragedy, it's easy for fear of the future to take hold.

The question is real:

No one expects it to happen to them. How do I know it won't happen to me?

We send our kids off to school or daycare, leave them with babysitters and head off for a few minutes of grown-up living. We kiss our spouses goodbye as we part ways for our daily responsibilities. What assurance do we have that they will come back safely? The reality is that we don't have any such assurance. And it because of that, it's easy to live in fear.

So How Do I Trust God With My Family's Safety?

My husband is a Navy Pilot, an inherently a dangerous job. Whether he's on deployment or heading off to train, I've had to regularly face my fears for his safety. Sometimes the anxious thought blindsided me that he might not come home... that our girls might grow up without a daddy... that two men in uniform could show up at my door and deliver the worst news possible. I have a mentor who's like a second mom to me. She's a wife to a former State Policeman and SWAT team member. Her two sons are former Marines and one is now a police officer. I asked her one day, “How do you deal with the fear of what could happen to someone you love?” She told me this: “When you’re doing what God has called you to do, whether it be a military career, police work, staying home with the kids, etc… you’re in the safest place you can be, right where you are. Even in a war zone or just driving down the street, nothing can touch you or the ones you love unless God allows it. He’s not “safer” here at home. He’s as safe as he can possibly be, right in the center of God’s will.” Hearing that was such a comfort to me. It allowed me to release my fears into God’s hands and trust that hubby’s safety is God’s concern.

How Do I Trust God When Things Get Bad?

Even when we put our loved ones in God's hands, it's easy to mistakenly believe that just because God is in control, that nothing bad will ever happen to them. We try with good intention to trust God fully, when something bad happens, it's suddenly God's fault or we start to doubt God's love for us. In learning to trust God (and I'm still learning this every day), I had to get to the point of realizing that EVEN IF something bad did happen to my husband or kids, that I could trust Gods goodness, that He was still in control.

We can trust God's goodness.

Our peace can't rest in the false idea that nothing bad will ever happen.

Our peace comes from the fact that EVEN IF something bad happens, God is with us, He will help us, and He can redeem any situation. One book that really helped me with this concept was God Has A Name by John Mark Comer. The book is about who God really is, and goes into detail about His character. Comer shares that God hasn't fully taken control over evil in this world yet, so bad things do happen. It doesn't mean that God isn't all-powerful, but He's choosing to allow evil for a time. There are other (evil) wills at play and they can wreak havoc on our lives. However God can be bring beauty from the ashes of any situation.

What If Trials In This Life Are Your Mercies In Disguise?

I heard a song on the radio yesterday while sitting in the Target parking lot. I immediately flashed back to when we had our third miscarriage. This song gave me perspective back during that difficult time. It's funny how songs can do that-- take you back to the emotions and memories of the past. So as the tears sprang to my eyes, and my little one happily crunched on a snack in her car seat, I listened to the words of the song "Blessings" by Laura Story. In it, she talks about how sometimes our healing comes through tears. And often our most precious blessings come through our darkest days, our greatest struggles. So when we hear shocking news, or worry pops into our minds that something bad might happen to our kids or husband, we can turn to the Lord. We can trust Him and give Him back our fears, day after day, because we know that no matter what we may face, He will be there and He will walk us through it. It's a mystery, but even when God allows us to go through pain, He can redeem all things and bring beautiful blessings. If I hadn't miscarried that third time, I never would have had my second rainbow baby, our middle child who brings us so much joy. Her arrival doesn't mean our loss wasn't tragic and sad. But I can't deny the beauty and blessing that resulted from the loss.

Laura Story, "Blessings" music video

I'll leave you with the music video (below) and the final lyrics of the song (you can get the full lyrics here): "What if my greatest disappointments Or the aching of this life Is the revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy What if trials of this life The rain, the storms, the hardest nights Are your mercies in disguise"Laura Story, "Blessings" Read the full article

#marriage #parenting #peace

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