#and also i’m selfish and want chrissy to myself

[pollenallergie]

this user would like to discuss sapphic!chrissy cunningham again

[ash5monster01]

Getaway Camp : Fourteen

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x FemReader

Warnings: language, past trauma, yelling, guilt, confrontation, explaining differences, hurt/no comfort

Summary: After a week Charlie and Valerie finally decide to have a conversation, if not with each other than everyone else.

word count: 2.8k

Masterlist

Thirteen ←→ Fifteen

July 24th 1961

For the entire weekend, everybody walked on eggshells. Even if half the staff didn’t know what had happened, it was clear there had been a rift. Everyone was used to seeing Charlie and Valerie together and not used to Chrissy being so quiet or hiding away. With the evident change everyone knew to keep their distance, which was nice on some level. Valerie had gotten sick of the staring though, especially since Chrissy had basically banned her from their shared cabin. She had no where to hide and she was tired of the curious and deciphering looks. That was going to end today.

Stretching her hands in front of her she eyes the cabin she knows Chrissy is in. She also knows the girl expects her to sneak in at night, undetected, just like she had been since this whole mess. Valerie was done with that. If she couldn’t fix things with Charlie, she was going to fix this. So with one last wave of confidence and determination, she stomps up the steps prepared to have a real conversation with the girl. It was about time.

“We need to talk” Valerie says once the door is closed shut behind her. Chrissy looks up from her spot on the bed, dark circles under her eyes, and a clear disgust coming her way.

“I’m not in the mood” she mutters, turning back to her magazine that Valerie knew she’s already read twice. Sighing Valerie walks into the room and plops down on the end of her bed.

“It’s been a week Chris, please. Let me just explain myself” and what Valerie doesn’t expect is the anger that flashes across the blonde girls face, her eyes ablaze. In fact she had never seen her so angry before, so it’s no surprise she recoils away from her.

“Explain what Valerie?! How you don’t give a shit about me or my feelings? I was in love with Nate, you knew that, and yet you let him lead me on. When he came to me that night I thought, this is it, he finally wants me. Then I find out you put him up to it with no regard to my feelings. I know I was being delusional but he should’ve been the one to break my heart, not you!” She shouts, finger pointing at Valerie, and suddenly Valerie feels worse. So she sits there, quietly while Chrissy pants beside her, eyes still wild.

“I know” she says after a moment, dropping her head to look at her lap. Chrissy doesn’t expect this, shoulders instantly loosening as she looks at the girl.

“What?” she asks and Valerie sighs, tears pooling in her eyes for the hundredth time this week.

“I know Chrissy. It was so awful of me, but you have to understand I wasn’t thinking” Valerie pleads, voice croaking around the guilt sitting in her throat. “I was only considering myself. I was being selfish and there’s no other way to describe it. My whole life girls have never liked me, I’ve never had to consider how they felt. I should’ve never asked Nate to lead you on but until recently I also had no idea what it was like to be in love”

Chrissy lets her words soak in, surprised to see the tears that stream down her brunette friend’s cheeks. Valerie was the toughest girl she knew. She tried to not let it bother her how she never got close. It’s weird to see her so broken now, begging for forgiveness, and looking so lost. Finally she says, “I wasn’t expecting that”

“I was awful to you, not just now but for years. My whole life I have been so mad at girls for alienating me that I never realized I had been doing the same to you” Valerie tells her, hand falling on top of her own. Chrissy looks at where they meet, finally understanding more about cool and strong Valerie than ever before.

“Us girls gotta stick together Val. No matter how different” Chrissy whispers, overturning her hand to clasp Valerie’s in her own and Valerie sniffles past her smile.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” she asks, hopeful eyes staring into Chrissy’s and the blonde girl can’t help the smile that cracks across her face.

“Yeah, but don’t pull some shit like that again” she tells her and much to both of their surprise, Valerie has her squashed in a tight hug.

“I won’t, I promise” she mutters against her and Chrissy sighs, hugging her back.

“In all fairness, we all do stupid things when we’re in love” she tells her and Valerie pulls back, her eyebrows furrowed as she looks at the girl.

“I don’t think it was love anymore. I was swept up in him and the moment. I’ve never loved anybody and now that we’re done I have to accept I probably never will” Valerie explains, trying to convince herself more than the blonde girl beside her.

“Valerie, you love that boy. Don’t let this mess make you think otherwise. You’re allowed to be heartbroken” Chrissy reassures and for what seems like the millionth time, Valerie’s lip starts to wobble as she tries not to cry.

“I never had to worry about things like this before. I never thought my short fling with Levi could bite me in the ass. I wish it wasn’t so hard to say how I feel and maybe Charlie would’ve known. Maybe he wouldn’t be ignoring me like he is now” Valerie rants, sad and frustrated all at the same time. It made her want to rip out her hair. She couldn’t even get the damn boy to look at her. She should’ve never let him kiss her under that canoe because all it did was confuse her more.

“It’ll work itself out Val. You can’t change the past and I have a feeling Charlie’s the kind of guy who will come around” the smile on the blonde girls face is sad, one filled with remorse that she didn’t get to have what Valerie did. She had put so much hope onto the possibility of Nate that she had missed everything going on around her for a very long time.

“Maybe, either way I’m still me. That’s all I ever needed anyway” Valerie says, a pressed smile and a slight truth behind her words. She knew she didn’t have to change to be happy, it was just nice to finally have someone who loved her the way she was too.

“Exactly, let’s agree right now that we love ourselves first before any of these other idiots” and Valerie snorts a laugh before holding a hand out. Chrissy quickly meets it in a firm shake.

“Deal”

When Charlie finishes his shift the last thing he wants to do is be social. Yet just like clockwork he makes the short walk to Ezra’s cabin. Surprisingly for a guy who loved calling Charlie out on his behavior, he had done a good job at not bringing up the boys sour mood. Yet even Charlie knew he was walking a thin line, and it was only a matter of time before Ezra finally said something. Which was correct for when the seventh day he had approached Ezra’s cabin with a scowl on his face, the man finally decided to speak up. A full week of torment, an expiration date, and Charlie’s foot didn’t even meet the front step of the porch before he finally brought it up.

“God boy, don’t be bringing that storm cloud of shit behavior with you again” Charlie froze like a deer in head lights, eyes lifting at the older man who had just swore at him.

“What?” he stammered, caught off guard by the man’s words.

“You heard me, I’ve put up with this sour attitude of yours for a week. So either you’re gonna tell me what’s wrong or don’t bother coming around here until you can put a smile on that face” he gestured at him and Charlie pondered it for a moment. Not wanting to rehash the details of his heartbreak but also knowing he had no where else to go. No one else to spend his free time with. So against his better judgement he continued to climb the porch and sit in his assigned seat.

“If I tell you I’ll just sound like a jealous, insecure, little boy” Charlie mutters, scowling deeper as he tries not to look at Ezra.

“I’ll tell you if that’s true or not, start from the beginning” so Charlie does. From how head over heels he got for Valerie to the truth or dare game, how it blew up, and Charlie found out he was nothing more than another guy. How he took it harder than he should’ve when he knew his love with Valerie had to end when summer did. How it was possible he was in the wrong here but he’s so stuck in his head he can’t even bring himself to acknowledge that part. The only thing he could think about was Neil and how every morning when he woke up still sad, he wanted his best friend, and for a fleeting moment if feels like he’s still here until Charlie remembers all over again.

“That’s quite a story” Ezra says once Charlie’s finished and Charlie can’t help the unironic chuckle that leaves his lips. Even he couldn’t have predicted his summer to go like this.

“Yeah, what a fool I was” Charlie says and Ezra begins to shake his head, never turning from his view of the lake.

“I think you’re missing the part son, where you found out if she was seeing both of you at the same time. I’d agree you were a fool but only because you didn’t confirm if the timelines ever crossed” Charlie freezes, mind flashing back to that rainy day in the cabin. Where Levi had admitted to the relationship but not providing any details. In this moment it hits Charlie entirely that this could’ve happened yesterday or three years ago. He just never asked.

“Oh my God, I’m a fucking idiot” Charlie groans, pressing his hand to his face. All this anger and sadness he had built around assumptions. How had he gone from the guy who never thought he’d care about a girl to a crazy and insecure boyfriend?

“Most boys your age are, it’s a learning experience. Yet I will give you that she also could’ve provided details or context prior, that way you wouldn’t have got as worked up as you did. A part of you knew something was there, it was just the truth that justified your suspicions. Hence the harsh reaction” and it all clicks, like pieces to a puzzle. Charlie had been trying to ignore the closeness between the two, having never seen a female and male friendship before. A small part of him always wanted to assume it was something more. When he found out there had been, he self sabotaged the rest of the way.

“I still screwed up with the best girl I’ve ever met” Charlie groans and Ezra bellows a laugh, not even the slightest bit surprised that this was the reason for Charlie’s behavior this week. When he was Charlie’s age he probably would’ve done the same thing.

“No you didn’t. Find her tomorrow and talk. Communication is key. It’s the things we keep to ourselves that kill us slowly” Ezra tells him and Charlie can’t help but think about Neil. His best friend who never once confided in him about how bad it was. Always putting on a smile and playing it off like it was nothing. If Neil had trusted him maybe he would’ve known, could’ve seen the behavior, noticed something more was wrong. Maybe he would still be here.

“Think she’ll forgive me?” Charlie asks and Ezra shrugs, not even able to count how many times he had screwed up and his wife had forgiven him.

“You always forgive the people you love. You have nothing to worry about” he tells him, finally breaking his gaze from the blue water and glancing at the young boy beside him. When Ezra says this, Charlie briefly wonders why his parents cross his mind.

“Doesn’t mean I get to keep her” Charlie says, eyes for the first time showing all the sadness stirred up inside of him. So for once Ezra just smiles back and comforts him, not swaying him one way or the other. He just supports him because not everything in life should you be told.

When Charlie makes the dark walk back to his cabin he doesn’t miss the loud laughter that floats past him. Eyes glancing up to find the friend group, one he was once apart of, making their way down the trail. Levi has an arm wrapped around Mia, Nate walks beside them with a beer in his hand, Andy and Alice have their fingers interlocked as their arms sway between them obnoxiously, Alex of course has his Captain hat on while Holly does her best to stay in step with him. What’s the most surprising is Valerie and Chrissy, arms hooked together, and big smiles on their faces as they converse with each other. The sight makes Charlie’s stomach twist.

“Hey Charlie” Levi is the one to point him out, offering a friendly smile that Charlie had resented but after his talk with Ezra he realizes how genuine it is. He does his best to stay calm when all eyes land on him.

“Hey man” Charlie nods at him, trying his best to continue on by without looking at Valerie. He wanted to talk to her but not like this, not now, not when she finally looked happy.

“We’re gonna go make a campfire and have some s’mores if you want to join” Alice offers, hand gesturing to the bottom of trail from where Charlie came. Finally Charlie glances at Valerie to find an unreadable expression on her face. He can’t help but think about their first kiss, how he would never be able to eat a s’more again without thinking of her.

“Maybe next time, I’m kind of tired” he finally responds, trying to ignore how Valerie’s face slightly falls. The group nods, all trying to ignore the obvious tension as Charlie rounds his way past them.

“I’ll be right back, meet you guys there” Levi says after a moment before turning and jogging back up the trail. Valerie watches but Chrissy gives her a tug, indicating to leave it alone, and she obeys.

“Charlie, wait up man” Levi calls for him and Charlie slows, hating what an idiot he had been. Valerie did deserve a nice guy like Levi, not him. When Levi reaches him his breath pattern doesn’t even change, as if the jog uphill hadn’t affected him at all. “I just wanted to apologize, you should’ve never found out like that, but you have to know that me and Valerie don’t like each other like that”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be apologizing Levi. I didn’t let either of you explain. I assumed and that was wrong of me” Charlie says and of all the things Levi had expected him to say, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to even comprehend.

“I guess we both should’ve been more transparent” Levi finally says, unable to find any other response and Charlie chuckles.

“You really didn’t have to tell me. I should’ve trusted that Valerie wasn’t using me. I owe her an apology more than anyone” Charlie says earnestly, lifting his shoulder in a shrug. “You’re a good guy Levi, even if it wasn’t romantic I understand why she tried”

“Come with me, talk to her” Levi says, heart aching for his friend and the honest boy in front of him. He knew Charlie was a good guy, Levi realizes now he was the one who had broke Valerie’s heart, not him. He should’ve never let Charlie walk out that door without explaining himself.

“Tomorrow, not tonight. Tonight she looks happy and I want her to have that” Charlie glances down the path, unable to see the group of friends but still feeling her there.

“She misses you” Levi says, seeing it in his friend’s eyes and how she looks for Charlie in every room they enter. She had fallen in love and wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

“I miss her, but stop wasting your time with me. If I can tell you anything, it’s that you should spend every second with your friends that you can. Sadly they won’t always be around” Charlie tells him, tears burning at the back of his eyes. He can’t believe he ever chose to distance himself from someone he loved when he yearned to be close to everyone he was forced from.

“Talk to her first thing tomorrow then. I can offer you the same advice” Charlie gives a pressed smile but nods anyway, agreeing with the boy in front of him.

“Have a good night Levi” he tells him and Levi smiles back, digging his hands into his pockets.

“You too Charlie”

Taglist: @eden-punk @octaviasdread @pursuedbyamemoryy @poetsinnyc @linmichea1

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

[ddeadly-succubus]

Do I like Chrissy as a character? Yes

Do I think her and Eddie would look cute together had they both survived? Also yes

Do I ship hellcheer? No cos I’m extremely selfish and want Eddie for myself

[quacka-quacka]

I mentioned Paul's strong resistance to being recognized as effeminate man or gay (here). Although he can hang out with gay guys, wear rainbow flag in public [yeah I definitely need to write that again in case someone didn't see it], being considered gay or "cute" is beyond endurance. I know someone love to interpret this as "don't want to his sexuality being mislabeled", which indeed looks sensible when it comes to the homosexuality, but this excuse can't be applied to the "cute" thing, right? You can't say being cute or feminine is the same thing as being gay, can you? Well, I can hear Paul's every single cell screaming O!M!G! Feminine! all the time. He doesn't want himself have anything to do with feminine, which, unfortunately can not be simply regarded as personal preference, it's indeed a despising of femininity, and femininity? Of course it's about female. Yes, "phallicism", the worship of masculine are still popular in today's society, but it doesn't mean it's right. I have to say Paul's thought is the product of this society, not to mention that he is an old man who grow up in a working-class family six decades ago, we can't demand him that much. His attitude towards women is the same thing.

PAUL: We were more amazed to see the [Japanese] women leaping up out of the seats for the promoter, because we'd never seen that in the West. The subservience of the women was amazing. They'd say, 'Oh God, I'm sorry - was I in your seat?' I remember us getting back to Britain and saying to our wives and girlfriends, 'I wouldn't want you to do that, but maybe it's a direction worth considering?' Promptly rejected.

— The Beatles Anthology

Although Paul seems to know that it's pretty cool for a woman to pursue her own career, like admitting Jane was famous before he was, allowing Linda to write a cookbook or have a photography exhibition, the androcentrism is too ingrained for him to forsake. He acknowledged Jane's achievements but still wanted her to give up work completely:

'I always wanted to beat Jane down,' says Paul. 'I wanted her to give up work completely.'

'I refused. I've been brought up to be always doing something. And I enjoy acting. I didn't want to give that up.'

— Hunter Davies, The Beatles

He allowed Linda to do her own thing, but they are not entirely hers - all those projects are belong to MPL, and do not forget Paul said this after Linda's death:

She never did anything on her own because we were together so much. 

— Paul McCartney, interview w/ Chrissie Henderson for USA Week-end: Tears and laughter. (October 30, 1998)

That's so sweet to see Paul would support his wife any time, but on the other hand it also shows that Linda never get the chance to do something entirely on her own without Paul's interference after she got married. No wonder so many people from inner circle [including Linda, yeah] described Paul as "typical Northerner":

Linda confided that Paul was a ‘typical Northerner’ who believed women should stay at home while men worked.

— Bonnie Estridge, The Mail on Sunday. (March 20th, 2005)

Paul was raised the old-fashioned way. Men were the breadwinners; women stayed at home, had babies and tea on the table. He's still an old-fashioned guy, very careful with money.

— Ruth McCartney

Like the other Beatles, he [Paul] was essentially an old fashioned Liverpool man, who wanted his woman tucked away at home cooking the dinner and minding the kids.

— Cynthia Lennon, John

Jane was a serious actress and wanted to continue her career, but Paul had other ideas. That’s why Linda was so perfect for Paul; she was just what he wanted, an old-fashioned Liverpool wife who was completely devoted to her husband.

— Marianne Faithfull, Memories, Dreams and Reflections

I'd say Paul was not that old-fashioned, at least he allowed his wife to do other things besides being a full-time nanny, but everything she does must cater his needs. As Jane once mentioned, he always wants his girl to adore him like fans:

The trouble is, he wants the fans’ adulation and mine too. He’s so selfish; it’s his biggest fault. He can’t see that my feelings for him are real and that the fans’ are fantasy.

— Jane Asher, Love Me Do! The Beatles’ Progress by Michael Braun

I know some of the fans can't wait to jump up now and shout "Paul and Jane didn't have a mature relationship!" "He's much mature after he meet Linda!" "Paul and Linda had a very very very healthy relationship!" Ok, if you really did some research, you may know that he's never mature enough to know how to fully respect women, at least before the end of divorce with Heather Mills. I have seen the theory appears too many times that Paul and Linda's marriage is the result of careful consideration: Linda came along with a ready-made child and she's ready to marry again - well, I regret to tell you both Paul and Linda wouldn't agree with you.

I was a great disappointment to my family When I got married [to a geologist] and moved to Arizona, it was crazy. I had been pressured by men all my life. I rather liked being on my own, making my own decisions. I had actually sworn to myself that I would never get married again.

— Linda McCartney, interview for Playgirl: An intimate conversation with pop’s preeminent pair. (February, 1985)

As she says, she's quite enjoy her freedom and had absolutely no interest in marriage. What did Paul do? He "twisted her arm" to make her agree.

I persuaded Linda to come to London for a visit. Then I rang Heather in New York and said, ‘Heather, will you marry me?’ She was five. ‘No, don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘I’m too young.’ ‘Well, I can wait,’ I said. So we went to New York and brought her back to London to live with us, and I twisted Linda’s arm and finally she agreed to marry me.

— Paul McCartney, interview for Playgirl: An intimate conversation with pop’s preeminent pair. (February, 1985)

Linda also said neither of them knew what they were doing when they got married:

LINDA: 'So instead of getting an agent I met Paul instead and got married. Or I was going through a transition then and didn't know quite what I was doing and he obviously didn't know quite what he was doing so we ended up marrying instead.'

— Paul McCartney: Many Years From Now

Again, I'm not saying Paul and Linda never loved each other or their marriage was completely made up for media, but I don't think his marriage with Linda enabled him to prioritize other's feelings [his status as one of the four head monsters doesn't help]. Linda's overmuch unilateral compromises certainty don't make him look mature. Let alone his excessive dependence on her.

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

Reply to all these who think feminize Paul/men is a bad thing:

You love to say that Paul doesn't want the cute title because people used to mock him by that. I understand it. But do you ever think about why being feminine is not taking him seriously? Do you ever think about this is the discrimination about femininity from the whole society? Why does a man must be despised when he has anything to do with femininity? And Paul's approach is denying his femininity, which is the same with those who mock it, like - a man being feminine is a shame because it means he can't be "respected" like other men. It's the recognition of this concept, which is outdated if you think about it.

P.S. Someone who reblogged my post doesn't seem to like the sentence "there must be many sweet moments between Paul and Linda". Ok, I delete it then.

[like-the-wings-of-butterflies]

Pamper (Platonic!Queen x Reader)

Summary: The boys bring comfort during that time of the month

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1335

Requested By: @foxinaforestofstars - Hey there! I've spent the last week reading all your Queen fics and I adore your writing! So, I was wondering if I could request something platonic with the dear boys: Reader is on her period and the cramps are so bad she's barely able to move, covered in cold sweat and throwing up and the boys are taking care of her because it hurts them to see reader in pain. Thanks in advance!

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting! I get severe menstrual pains so much of this is written from my own experiences but I completely understand that it’s different for everyone. Personally I think this is one of my worst fics because I haven’t written anything in well over a month but I’m hoping that this is similar to what you had in mind!

(Also in light of J.K R*****g’s repeated transphobic behaviours and the T***p Administration’s reversal of trans health protections, just a friendly reminder that this blog is a safe space and this post is for everyone who menstruates! Men, women, nonbinary people, literally anyone. I won’t hesitate to destroy terfs on sight :) )

Feedback is always appreciated! ♡

“(Y/N)?” Roger called, letting himself into your apartment with the spare key you kept hidden under the doormat. For midday your kitchen and living room was incredibly dark, the curtains still drawn from the previous night “Sorry for barging in but you didn’t pick up when I called.” He continued, peering around as he quietly made his way to your bedroom. “I was in the area anyway so I just thought I’d check in.”

He couldn’t say what he was expecting, but it sure wasn’t this. There you were, hunched over on the edge of your bed, one hand on your stomach and the other holding your head.

“Shit (Y/N) are you alright?” Roger gasped, snapping into action and running to your pyjama clad form. Kneeling on the floor in front of you, he gently lifted your chin with his fingers when you didn’t respond. Brushing the unkept hair out of your face, he smiled sympathetically at your bloodshot eyes and shimmering skin, a product of the silvery tears and sweat rolling down your face from the searing pain that found itself in your abdomen.

With short quick breaths and a waiver in your voice you whispered “No I’m fine Rog, it’s just that time of the month you know?” You quickly wiped away the emerging tears that were threatening to fall and plastered on the most superficial of smiles, “No need to worry about me, I can take care of myself.”

He stared at you disapprovingly, shaking his head lightly, “I don’t doubt that but I don’t want to leave you here on your own either.”

“Roger I promise you I-“

“Did you want me to call the others?” Roger queried, seemingly unimpressed with your stubbornness by the way he interrupted you, “We can help out if you like?”

Although both of you knew that you didn't have much of a say in the matter, he allowed you to mull over the offer for a moment, reassuringly running his hands up and down your arms. Caving into his persistence, you nodded your head silently and watched as his face lit up with a smile. Quickly, he leant up and placed a quick kiss upon your forehead before lifting himself from the ground.

“I’ll be right back.” He vowed, running off into the living room to call Freddie, John and Brian. Part of you felt that you would be wasting their time and being selfish, but deep down you knew you’d drop everything in an instant if any of them were unwell and needed taking care of. The day would pass by far sooner and their company alone would ease the torment your body was putting you through.

You didn’t realise how excited you were until the remaining three boys bounded through the apartment door. While you expected their bright and energetic selves, you were met hastily with sympathetic and worried eyes upon seeing your bundled up frame. Roger had managed to get you to lie down in the comforts of your bedsheets and you wasted no time in curling yourself up into a nest of sorts, basking in the warmth that it provided.

With all four of them together, they quickly decided that Brian and Roger would go out to gather ingredients for the lunch that you hadn’t yet eaten while John and Freddie stayed to help you out where they could.

You and Freddie weren’t exactly shy when it came to physical affection with one another. You were the kind of friends that found comfort in innocent intimacy, holding hands and cuddling one another being a common occurrence. So when he offered to massage your stomach, you couldn’t accept fast enough. As you lied flat on your back, Freddie sat on the edge of the bed beside you, running his warm hands across your skin and soothing the aches that you fell victim to each and every month.

“Look at the positives my dear,” He mused with a gentle smile, brushing his thumb across your navel, “at least you’re not pregnant.”

“Right now I almost wish I was,” You replied jokingly, a puff of laughter escaping your lips. “I’d do anything if it meant this would stop.”

Right on cue, John manoeuvred his way around your bedroom door with a tray in his hands, “I made you some peppermint tea.” He announced cheerfully, placing the tray onto your bedside table, “Veronica asks for it often when she’s feeling like this, it helps her so I’m hoping it’ll help you too.” He confided, patiently waiting for you to sit up. Freddie wrapped an arm around your waist and gently lifted you so your back was leaning against his chest while John gathered one of the daintily painted teacups and handed it to you. Ever the considerate, he handed a second cup he made to Freddie and then grabbed a third cup he made for himself and clinked it against yours; joining in on Freddie’s and your quiet chatter, so you wouldn’t have to drink alone.

With your mind at ease as a result of the comforting tea and Freddie’s soothing movements, you found your eyes growing heavy and a warm humming sensation settled it’s way into your body. Before long, John and Freddie’s voices grew quieter as you indulged in the rest you so desperately needed.

When you awoke, a bright shade of orange flooded through your bedroom window. Hues of reds and yellows painting the ceiling in the most beautiful display. The pain in your abdomen had long subsided and you instead found yourself in the less sufferable state of deep fatigue. You squinted your eyes with a hand to your face as you adjusted to the light before making out the shillouette of Brian in the corner of the room. He sat perched in the armchair positioned next to the window, a cascade of curls falling around his face as he peered down at the book in his grasp. ‘Steppenwolf’ it read, by Hermann Hesse. Completely engrossed, he didn’t notice you were awake until you let out an audible yawn.

“Evening (Y/N).” He greeted, eyes still glued to his book as he finished off the page.

“Hey Bri.” You smiled back groggily, “I take it the others have left?” You queried, noticing the comfortable silence that enveloped your small flat.

Brian nodded while closing his book and placing it on the nearby table, “Rog had some errands to run, Freddie had an appointment and John has a date with Veronica.”

You nodded softly in response, a sudden wave of guilt washing over you. “Thank you for all taking care of me today. Although I’m so sorry I’ve kept you so long, you really didn’t have to stay.”

“Oh nonsense (Y/N), I wouldn’t want you to wake up in an empty house,” He reasoned, “Besides, we agreed that we wouldn’t leave you alone until you were feeling better.”

How thoughtful they all were, taking time out of their day to tend to you. In a bid to show Brian that you were in fact doing much better, you attempted you lift yourself out of bed and try walking around for the first time that day. However when you stood, a sudden wave of nausea washed over you and gave you the false sense of motion, making you lose your balance. Brian’s arms quickly steadied you and as the room stopped spinning you felt the all too familiar burn of bile rising up your throat.

Noticing you paling face, Brian swiftly walked you to the bathroom and dampened a washcloth to press against your forehead, “Chrissie’s out with her friends tonight so I could stay for a bit longer if you like?”

From the position you were in, knelt over the toilet bowl with tiles digging into your knees, you mustered a sharp nod, “Thank you for putting up with me.”

He laughed lightly in response, rubbing a soothing hand over your shoulder, “We’re here any time you need us.”

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

Tags: @kelleypenac @chlobo6 @crazyweirdocalledfriday

(Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

[shebeafancyflapjack]

First Strike

One last mini-fic before it’s back to work for me. Inspired by something @cecret-with-c said months ago about if Chris revealing himself had been more intense. It’s been a while since I wrote some whump as well.

What if Chris had done more than punch Eleanor in the face? (Sort of a sequel to Let Me In).

Once again, Michael is grateful that he was given a human suit with such long legs to help him sprint in such far strides. He’s had to do more running than he ever expected to do in the past couple of years and the only time he was ever ‘caught’ was when he willingly gave himself up, not that he counts that time as a loss.

He races across the town, ignoring the heads of the Janet babies who turn in his direction out of vague, programmed curiosity, making his way towards the most dull-looking beige bungalow on the corner. It’s the house of the grandmother no kid ever wanted to visit because all she did was sit in her armchair and forbid laughter while she ranted about the noisy ‘illegals’ living next door.

The door is closed. From the outside, there’s no obvious sign of distress. 

And of course, every resident’s home is made to be sound-proof in the interest of privacy (a feature Tahani pushed on when Janet revealed the ‘surveillance’ feature of Michael’s previous experiment. They weren’t happy about that). It explains why the others are all going about town as normal despite being close enough to hear any sort of ruckus.

He braces himself before rushing forward, finding the door unlocked as he turns the handle.

“Eleanor?” He calls, immediately. 

What awaits him inside is as bad as he predicted, furniture turned aside, a few smashed vases and torn, hideous flowery wallpaper. But at least nothing is on fire. Michael feels that’s always a plus to be counted in most situations.

He stumbles in, almost tripping over the leg of an upturned side-table. 

“Shirt...Eleanor?!” Michael tries again, looking down the hall, the house seeming like a small bull just charged through the place.

“I’m here.”

He follows the dejected voice to the living room, finding her sat on the one half that remains of broken sofa. The tiny bit of relief he feels at first to see her in once piece shatters when she raises her head up from her hands.

An uneven pattern of swollen bruises decorate her face, tearful eyes shining between the puffy lids, blood still dripping from a cut on her lip and to the side of her left eyebrow. There’s marks on her throat, her hands and where her jacket has been torn on her arm as well.

One would think Michael had seen enough beaten up humans in his existence for it to no longer affect him, but the sight of Eleanor in this state cuts deep.

“Shirt...”

She braves the smallest smile; “You should see the other guy.” She then winces, possibly regretting speaking.

“Linda?!” He still can’t believe it. It doesn’t make sense!

He’d been leaving his office to head over to Tahani’s when he’d bumped into a furious Janet, frog-marching a pissed off looking Linda in her grip. Before Michael could ask what the fork she was doing, Janet simply ordered him to get over to Linda’s house, for no other reason than ‘Eleanor is there’. He didn’t need more than that.

It was only after he’d left he smelled the blood on Linda’s hands. Eleanor’s blood. The same that is sprinkled around the room in its destruction and still leaking from her fresh wounds.

“Turns out Linda’s not as boring as we thought.” Eleanor scoffs, raising one of her blackened hands and cringing in further pain; “Fork...”

He puts aside the issue of Linda for a moment as he goes to kneel in front of her.

“Here...” He gently takes her wrists, cradling what looks to be an almost crushed set of fingers, delicately; “It’s okay...”

He snaps his fingers.

Eleanor hisses again, in discomfort more than pain this time, as the bones reset and fuse, her cuts seal up and the bruising settles down, hopefully taking the pain away with it. She lets out a deep sigh, now simply looking pained with exhaustion. 

“Thanks, bud...” 

He stays kneeling before her, eyes full of concern.

“What happened?” He asks, carefully; “Why didn’t Janet do that?”

Eleanor shakes her head, “Y’know what? It’s crazy. I don’t even remember...I just came here, wanting to try again with Linda, see if I could have a talk and understand her...For a few minutes she was just quiet, sitting and sucking on her mints while I did all the talking...And then out of nowhere...she got up and...”

She clenches her fingers on her lap, clenching her jaw to the point Michael hears her teeth grind.

“Take your time.” He tells her; “What did she do?”

“Not she...He.” Eleanor smirks again, annoyed; “Suddenly Linda was speaking in a guy’s voice...Calling me an annoying little bench, raging at me about how he got so sick of having to ‘play nice’ around me, and put up with me, when all he wanted to do whenever I opened my mouth was...Well. You saw for yourself.”

Michael takes a breath. He saw the result. He dreads to imagine what actions the clearly-not-human took to leave Eleanor looking like that.

“I just kinda blacked out, I guess. At first it was almost funny...this little old woman picking her chair up and throwing it at the radio, that was kinda neat. Then he started throwing things at me and I wasn’t ready to get out the way. And then, when I tried to call for Janet...his hands were on me and...” 

It might be more terrifying than the scene he walked in on, to see Eleanor Shellstrop this shaken and struggling to form a sentence. 

He flips the coffee table back upright and slides it close so he can sit and take Eleanor’s healed hands in his. He cages them safely in his own, rubbing them warm.

She laughs again, tears spilling; “Fork, Michael....I dunno what’s wrong with me!”

“You just took ten rounds from a demon, no one is going to judge you for not being yourself.” At least, that’s what he’s assuming. If Linda isn’t a human then angel is also very improbable, which leaves one last option. 

“I’ve dealt with ashholes on Earth trying to cup a feel when I wasn’t interested and I had no trouble handling myself or knowing how to get help. But this...” She trembles in his grip; “I was so....frozen. Like I couldn’t do anything! It was only when I thought he was gonna throw me through the window, I managed to call for Janet. She did offer to fix...” Eleanor gestures to her face; “But I just told her to get that motherforker out and somewhere secure...And I asked for you.”

She...wanted him? That causes a selfish little ball of light to glow inside of him, that he was the first one she wanted, out of the others. 

Then he reminds himself that he’s the only one out of them with magic to heal.

“You said this guy talked about having to put up with you before?”

She nods; “Yeah, I can’t remember if he was in those memories I saw...He might have been at that bar in Canada, I don’t remember. Might be the concussion.”

“Ah...I think I know who Linda might be underneath. I...put you with a lot of demons who posed as your fake soul mate and...one of them kept coming to me with a lot of complaints by the end because he was sick of it. It was only because he had the most handsome skin suit out of them all, he claimed I was being objectifying.” Michael waves off that bit; “His name was Chris.”

If he was working for Shawn to infiltrate them, posing as one of the humans, did he agree to it purely for the chance to finally get to physically hurt Eleanor like he always begged Michael permission for? He feels sick at the idea that he contributed to this in a way. 

“Well I’m glad Chrissy got it out of his system, now I know how guys really feel after having to put up with me.” Eleanor lightly jokes.

“No guy who’s been close to you would ever dream of hurting you like this.” He says that, earnestly.

Even before he changed sides, no matter how crazy Eleanor drove him, no matter how often she foiled his designs, he never wished physical hurt on her. Just to make her miserable by pranks and mind games. Nothing like this.

This was the last thing he ever wanted.

“I’m so sorry, Eleanor.” He brings one of her hands to his lips, “This is my fault.”

“No it’s not, dude.” She says, tired; “I should’ve waited for you to be done at Tahani’s before we checked on Linda...We agreed to do these things together...”

Damn, will he and Janet have to chaperone all the humans now until this is over, in case something else threatens them?

“I’m just pissed that we didn’t see through Linda’s whole boring schtick. Tahani even said something was up with her but I ignored it.” She groans and rubs her head.

“Does it still hurt?” Michael frowns. It shouldn’t do, if he did it right.

Eleanor shakes her head; “No...Not from the fight, just...all of this. I was so sure I could handle it but this...I wasn’t ready for...”

“Blame me. You wouldn’t be in this position if I hadn’t had that break down at the start.” Michael tells her, feeling twisted with guilt.

“You didn’t make me choose to take this on, Michael. Stop it. None of this is on you...I’m just glad you’re here now.”

“Of course.” He gets to his feet and offers her his hand; “C’mon. I think we better call Shawn and tell him we’ve got something of his. And the Judge too while we’re at it.”

Eleanor looks up at him and gives a smile, then a nod, before taking his hand and standing up.

They’re half-way to the door when there’s a sudden tug on his hand.

Michael turns, frowning, seeing Eleanor standing motionless behind him. Her fingers are gripping his with such ferocity, his fingers would probably crunch if he was human, while her shoulders tremble, the smallest wince of panic on her face.

“What is it?” 

Her bottom lip wobbles, her eyes on the ajar pink door; “I...I dunno, I just...I d-don’t wanna go there yet.”

“Eleanor, he’s restrained. Janet’s way stronger than any demon, remember? And I wouldn’t let him touch you agai-.”

“I know that, dude, all right?!” She raises her volume, frustrated; “I don’t need your forking rational argument - I know that he’s all chained up and I’m safe and, whatever, because I’m a sexy badash who doesn’t get scared of anything so, fork you, this isn’t because I’m scared because I’m not! I’m fine! You’re the one who’s scared, I’m just protecting you, got it?! So lay the fork-.”

Once Michael has pulled her into his arms, she shuts up. It’s hard for her to keep babbling once her face is smothered into his chest. He waits for the resistance, to be shoved back, but nothing comes. Instead she stills, before her knees buckle, and her arms slip around his middle to cling to him. He places one hand on her neck and the other on the top of her head, stroking gently.

He just holds her tight for a moment, closing his eyes to stop his senses from seeing all the clear signs in the mess around them of what that deckhead did to her. How there’s a dent on the wall from where she was clearly thrown, or how that particular drop of blood stained on the carpet must have come from a blow to her mouth.

“Michael...Bit too tight, bud, you just fixed these ribs...” Eleanor sniffs against him.

“Sorry, sorry.” He loosens a little, still keeping her close, for as long as she clings to him. He pulls back after another minute to touch her face, searching for those green-blue eyes; “Listen. I know you, remember? No one’s aware of what a badash bench you are more than me, okay? But I also know you’re still human...And humans break, that’s what you guys do, it’s what makes you so amazing. That you can be so spunky even when you’re so stupidly fragile.”

And the more vulnerable they are, such as the small woman in his arms, the more courage they seem to hold to compensate. 

“I know how often you’ve wanted to break down when things got tough but you always had to put up a front to save face. You don’t have to do that with me, remember?” He whispers, softly, his thumb brushing a tear from her face; “You were there for me when I collapsed like a Tahani being told she has to fly economy. You trust me to be still be there for you if you do the same right?”

She sniffs again, nodding.

“It’s not just you, bud. God can’t be seen weeping, can she?” She japes.

With a wave of his hand, the blinds close and the door shuts.

“God can have some privacy. You’ve earned it.” Michael smiles at her and brings her back in again, letting her curl into him, one of her hands grabbing at his jacket; “Take as long as you need. I’m sure Janet can have fun with Chris while he waits for us. Make him sweat. We’ll go when you’re ready.”

Perhaps he’ll ask Janet to have some ‘time alone’ in a quiet room with Chris, even after they’ve called Shawn and the Judge. He might not be Chris’ boss anymore but he still feels the need to offer some ‘managerial feedback’. Which is a euphemism, by the way, he plans on eviscerating the forknut.

He hears the smallest hum.

“Thanks, bud. I dunno what I’d do without you.” Eleanor whispers, still shaky, clinging onto him; “We should’ve known they’d be too dumb to use something like a Michael-suit and instead they pull a stunt like this that gives them away. Forking idiots.”

He chuckles with her, resting his cheek on her head as he keeps her close.

“They’re no match for us. Say it with me...We’ve got this.”

“That’s my line.”

“Our line.” He jostles her a little, delighted by the sound of her laughter, more so when she smiles up at him, that fire slowly starting to ignite in her eyes again. 

Michael moves a strand of her hair away before planting a kiss on her forehead. Only fair, as she kissed his cheek last time, and it had felt...oddly pleasant. 

She sighs, “Fine. We’ve got this.”

He looks down at her, feeling ready to burst with admiration. There she is. Eleanor Shellstrop. Holding it together after taking a pummelling from an immortal being. 

Unstoppable, as always. 

Better luck next time, Shawn, old pal. But try to lay a finger his humans again and there will be Here to pay.

[19jikook9597]

End Of Year Post

Wow, it's already the third year I make such a post, time really flies!

2019 really was the shittiest year I experienced so far. I don't know where to begin, I don't even know if I should begin or not. Well.

This year was a very long and painful one for me.

The first thing I wanna tell you about is uni. I got my bachelor's degree and started a master. I was foolish to think it would be easy considering the subject I studied during three long years: Turkish. Like there would be any seminar about turkish linguistics. A few teachers helped me but it wasn't enough. To be honest, it was hard from the beginning of 2019 but not from the beginning of the school year. January was the moment I realised I wouldn't make it through. I slowly began to develop anxiety about uni and it was hell because I really loved going to uni, I've always loved learning things. It took me a lot of time to finally stop going to class. You see, we were until very soon 6 in my family and my dad is the only one working. It wasn't much but it still helped when my dad's salary wasn't enough. So, I forced myself to go to class for that damn scholarship until it became too much. I had a panic attack in the middle of a class and went home early. I decided then to stop going to uni, for my health. It didn't please my mom but I didn't care. Anyway.

The second thing I wanna talk about is friendship. You know how the Spice Girls sang about how friendship lasts forever? Well, I wish it was true. I lost a couple of friends this year and especially one that was very important to me. The fact she stopped talking to me all of a sudden really hurt but what hurt the most was to realise that all the "I love you's" and nice things she told me were lies. I was really sad at first but thinking about it now I think I'm better off without her. I don't wanna be friends with a liar. Everyone who knows me even a little knows that I'd never ever lie to my friends.

I'm not telling you all of this for you to pity me or whatever, I just felt the need to get it out of my chest because there are a lot of people I care deeply for even though it may not be mutual.

2019 wasn't only bad, of course not. Even though I quit uni, I learned a lot of very interesting and useful things and I also met a lot of important people. I made very good friends too and I'd like to thank all of you for being my friends and bearing with my stupid ass ><

To begin with the people I met this year...

Thanks to @southeasternhoe for liking +20 of my posts and not rejecting me when I messaged her^^ we became friends pretty fast and we know we can both rely on each other. She listened to me when I was too embarrassed to talk to closer friends and it made us become closer! Thank you so much, I love you ♡

A big thank you to @haremofparkjiminsmh. I don't even know where to begin... I think you might be the most beautiful person I met this year. I don't remember how we got to talk but I don't regret it one bit. I've always seen you interacting with Chrissy and Ami and I was just so envious of your relationship. You always made me laugh with your interactions (especially with Ami but whatever) and I always wanted to become your friend but it was hard because I'm a shy bitch x) I feel like we shared so much in almost 4 months! And of course, you became my GOT7 senpai (it sounds funny lol)! Well, I owe you a lot and especially tears of happiness~ I love you ♡

Now, all the people who stuck with me for some time now...

@idunknowhyimhere I already told you a thousand times but you're very precious to me and you're always of great help when I need someone to talk to. It's been some time since we last talked but I know you're busy (I am too) and I don't want to bother you, I hope you understand~ Still, you remain my lil sis and I love you lots! ♡

@goingtosueyou do I even need to write something? You're my sunshine, the light I need when I feel down and even though we haven't talked in a loooong time, know that I'm always there for you, no matter what. I love you ♡

@diminie-s-jagiya gosh, you're the cutest! It's been ages since we last talked but I think about you a lot! You're always on my mind even though we don't talk much and I hope you know that whenever you're bored or need someone to talk to, I'm one message away~ Take care of yourself and remember that I love you ♡

@ggukmiin it's been some weeks since we last talked about that hell of a gc but know that you can talk to me whenever, I'm always there for you~ If you're simply bored or wanna rant, whatever you wanna do, I'm here! I love you ♡

@thesmallestplanet it's been centuries since we last talked but I'll never forget you! You were my first friend here, the first person I fangirled about JiKook with and you hyped me up to write my fics and I'll forever be thankful because you helped me find more than a hobby, I found a passion and it's all thanks to you! Thank you so much and I love you♡

I might be dumb, mentioning people that may not remember me or may not feel the same way I feel about them and that's making me very anxious and insecure. But I'm selfish and until you tell me that you want me gone, I won't go away, I won't stop bothering you and caring for you.

Let me finish with those words. 2019 was a shitty year for a lot of people but it was also an awesome year for others. There's only one thing I wish for: everyone's happiness. If you had a shitty year, may 2020 be one of the best years for you. If you had an awesome year, may 2020 be even more awesome. If you're in need of money, may money come to you; if you're searching for a lover, may you find one; if you're stressing for your studies, may you be successful in studying something you love. I just want all of you to get all you want/need in 2020. I wish for people struggling to get better.

May 2020 be the best year ever for everyone ❤

[scrumptiousalpacadeer]

A Note on the ‘F’ Word - (Forgiveness is Willy Wonka)

I’ve come to think that forgiveness is a bit like the scene in the original Charlie and the Chocolate Factory film where Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory is opened to the public after years of secrecy. In this classic scene, the crowds are gathered at the entrance of this most magical of places - a place that grandparents told their grandchildren of at bedtime in hushed tones; a place of flowing nectar-chocolate and sweets that burns like heaven in our hero Charlie’s imagination; a place they had never truly dared to believe in but dreamed of many times; a place run apparently run by some weirdo eccentric that the cynical masses had given up on long ago. 

That is until five Golden Tickets are sent out into the world...Willy Wonka is opening his factory again.

In the scene, Gene Wilder approaches the eager crowd, leaning and limping heavily with his cane along a red carpet; a look of grim severity on his face. The whole falls silent; all that is heard are the regular steps of Wonka and the taps of his cane. What the hell? This is not what anyone is expecting; this God-like man of mystery and invention  a miserable invalid? The opening of the Chocolate Factory is meant to be an epic event; the whole world is watching.. 

Wilder suddenly stops walking right next to his baffled fans and the world stops, holds its breath; locked in Wonka’s charismatic spell. Then something very weird happens; he begins to topple forward away from his cane - as if he’s had a stroke, or has suddenly died or fainted.... the crowd gasp, utterly horrified. Its the end of everything and it was meant to be the beginning. 

And then....well, Willy Wonka does a perfect forward roll and springs up beaming from ear to ear: it was all a façade of ill-health; a silly joke. The crowd goes wild with relief and joy and the factory’s golden gates open for the day, signalling a new era. 

 The other day I had a phone call out of the blue from an old friend; a friend I hadn’t seen or heard from for eight years. Rahul; my party hard philosopher; he who introduced me to the basics of meditation in my student digs 1996, whom I’d shared hundreds of fags with and laughed and danced hard with at house/techno nights ‘down the Student Union in my final year at London University, 1997. Rahul who I’d watched Sideways with and had half a lager with when I was seven months pregnant. Rahul who often got so insanely drunk and gobby at a party that no-one knew what to do with him. Rahul, wild man of peace; loose canon. Rahul who years became a Maths teacher as I became an English teacher. 

I very nearly didn’t answer the phone because I didn’t recognise the number, but I was in a care-free mood, listening to Radio 3 in the kitchen (how times have changed since 1997), so I picked up. 

One of the first words I said to him was ‘sorry’. ‘Sorry, Rahul!’ - It was weird because I’d been thinking of getting in touch with him for a while to ask his forgiveness. I hoped for an opportunity to say sorry to him for being such a crap friend; for taking him for granted; for being a selfish shit-bag; for not answering his calls, for the years of silence; for draining his resources then abandoning him when I found new pastures. I needed to say thankyou to him for being there for me at times in need; times I’d been hollow in spirit and he’d stepped in, but I hadn’t grasped it at the time. 

“What do you mean? You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, “ he said. “this is how it works with you. Years go by.” That's the thing with forgiveness; it hurts. It pained me that he forgave me without a second’s thought when I knew full well I hadn’t played fair. One time, in our mid-twenties, Rahul had bought me a ticket to go and join him in Atlanta America where he was working in I.T. His generosity was always off the scale.

Since our last meeting Rahul had lost half of his family and was now an orphan. His younger sister had died from a ‘cancer thing’ he told me; his mother crossed the threshold in April this year after contracting Covid in hospital. Her death was a relief, he said. “She was so happy to get the virus; all she wanted was to join her two children.” Apparently there had been a cot death. Rahul was the only one left alive now. He was talking to me from his flat in Hounslow, looking out over the town. 

I had to steady myself on the windowsill as he told me how his world had imploded. I felt the disappearance of his world in my stomach; and a sudden revelation of the nature of our connection. I hadn’t realised it before, but Rahul and I were conjoined by our exiled status. He, more visibly - a boy of high Indian descent inhabiting a West London life of hedonism, doing the drugs and the booze but also somehow accepting an arranged marriage foretold in his stars - a marriage that ended in disaster...Me; a girl from a house of shame and smutty lies and buried criminality, trying to climb the ladder and be so gleaming white and impressive... We both knew how hard it was to play the game in this world; feeling all the time we could only exist outside it.  Perhaps that's why, back in the 1990s, filled with the possibilities of our lives - born out of joint as we were - , we could feel the beat so keenly and dance so crazily together. Rahul and I knew the art of getting wasted and causing trouble.

I enforced the point that I’d been a real bitch and I told him how and why and that he deserved better. I told him of my stark memory of his mother singing sweetly to my baby daughter in Summer 2012, distracting her, so that we could sit and chat in his garden.  I told him I lived in the country now; that so much had changed. “Are you comforted?” he asked. “Are you still Chrissy Woo?” It was always his nick-name for me - a nick-name I didn’t mind. “I don’t think I am,”  I said. “I couldn’t go on like that.” 

Did he know that my father had died...that I was an orphan too? Rahul and my father had met many times so I didn’t inform him of my father’s subtly racist jibe after he’d come over for fish and chips one time. I didn’t tell Rahul about my revelation that my father was, on one level, arguably, as far as I was concerned, often, a ball-less sack of shit (that’s a W.O.P.E. Whole Other Post Entirely - very much related to the ‘F’ word) Out mutual disappointment of our hopeless fathers was the subject of a much longer conversation.  

I think the thing that’s so frickin’ scary about forgiveness as I am just as the very beginnings of understanding it, is the sheer unknowability of the space that comes after it. For my part, all the resentments, angers, prejudices, judgements, pulsing hatreds at times, these were very loyal friends that I woke up with each day without even having the faintest idea I was doing so. Sure, they were ugly and they caused merry hell enough, but, well, at least I knew where I was. At least I was livin, and sometimes that's really hard to do. They were the furniture I manoeuvred around; the reliable chairs I sat in for comfort when I was never good enough; when I just couldn’t keep my head above water. What happens if I let that all go? What will I hold onto? If I know longer want to stab my father with a screw-driver in the manner I meant to stab the lawn today as a form of irrigation for my new grass seed (see previous post and the WOPE I referred to earlier is coming soon) what the fuck happens then? I will have absolutely no idea who I am. Everything has the potential to start looking like Wonka’s Oompa Loompa Land with giant toadstools and chocolate rivers and that’s just too much happiness for anyone, surely, to stomach. I will know that I don’t know anything, and I’ve spent my whole life pretending to know everything. Surely the space will swallow me up, won’t it? How on earth do you start something entirely new? 

There’s that terrifying moment of suspension before something new comes in - like Willy Wonka topping over his cane. There’s those seconds when, learning a new guitar chord, our fingers hover in space over the fret; the new contortions our fingers must make to strike a new sound feels so awkward; so wrong; the muscles tearing into a new shape.. There’s that burning second that we leap out in the dark, blind, towards the possibility of a new tune, we take a mad punt and see where our clumsy fingers land, risk making a new sound... Chances are first few times around we’re gonna fuck it up. It’s agony. Forgiveness feels to me, when it comes in, like a hard grounding grief, a thunderstorm of reluctantly received understanding that wipes out the old and invites me to the chocolate factory. And some days it leaves me entirely and I feel like I’m back in the dumb days again. 

But, and I’m riffing here, I think the answer partly has to do with a belief in change and a steady embracing of transformation; or at least a basic faint belief that it might just be possible. Cynics and miseries say ‘people don’t change,’ ‘things don’t change’, but this is of course undiluted horse-shit. People  transform utterly on a daily basis, all the time...One of the tricks, I’ve learnt, is to spend as large a proportion of time as possible with people who also believe in change and progress - a bit like stocking up on sunlight for those dark hours that must be spent with angel eaters - ( translation: rampant materialists/misery guts who refuse to believe in magic of any sort).

But oh the rewards; oh the sheer mad silly fun of Wonka’s gates opening and guzzling on that chocolate.. The ecstasy of hearing a G major chord sung from your own fair hand. 

I hope to meet up with Rahul this Summer - to see him in the flesh. No doubt it will be somewhat awkward; he’s forgiven me - in fact; he doesn’t see what the problem is. I’m a different person; I’ve had some chunks taken out and they’ve been filled in with wholly different colours. He’s a different person too; I made him promise me on the phone that he would look after himself - so he’ll be made of different colours too. How will we talk to each other? What words will we use? How will we navigate such unknown waters? How do you build something new with someone who looks the same, but is wholly other?..

I have no idea. I think we might just have to chuffing well make it up as we go along; trying to forgive ourselves for all the mistakes we make along the way. 

                                                    *    *   *   *   *

As a random and seemingly unrelated end-note - I went out for a walk down the lane to catch some air mid-blog. What with it being a Saturday night and me being a party fiend, I thought I would ‘pick up some litter’ for fun. I picked up a can of cider and a paper plate. Two cars zoomed past. It struck me that had the drivers of these vehicles happened to take a passing interest in the woman in a camel coat walking alone along the side of the road with an unsteady gate (wellington boots rub my right heel real bad!) and an empty can of cider in her hand they would surely been able to draw only one conclusion: PISS-HEAD!.. OLD SOAK! lonely Saturday night Sussex forty something alcoholic staggering along the lanes with empty cans of cider for company... 

Ah the deception of appearance...

And so, dear reader; Happy Saturday and judgeth not a lady who walketh with a can of cider down a country lane. She might just be a blogger on a break.

I hope you enter the chocolate factory of your choosing some time soon or are already there sampling the delights....

Love from Christine x

[atc74]

Good Intentions

Square(s) Filled: Iconic Quotes for @spnbromentbingo

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of death (come on, it’s the Winchesters!)

Summary: Dean sits down with his personal journal to tell us a little story about past digressions and why he wouldn’t change a thing.   

Pairing: NA

Word Count: 964 (just under the mark!)

Written for: @crispychrissy‘s Chrissy’s Gif it to Me Challenge, gif included below. Also written for @spnbromentbingo and I used the quote:  So screw destiny in the face

A/N: Thank you to @evansrogerskitten and @alleiradayne for looking this over! All mistakes are mine. This is written from Dean’s POV in a journal entry. 

May 24, 2019

What a fucking week. It’s been a while since I sat down and let it out, but I’ve got a little something to share with you, whoever you might be that decides to read what I’ve got to say. 

Chuck just unleashed the worst of the worst on us, undoing decades of good. And for what?

They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. They probably didn’t know anything about anything, but I do. I can tell you with absolute certainty that yes, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. How do I know? Because I’ve been to Hell. And Heaven and Purgatory. But this isn’t about the places I’ve been, it’s about the things I’ve done. And I’ve done a lot with good intentions. 

It started when my little brother died and I sold my soul to bring him back. I spent four months, the equivalent of forty years, down in the pit. I was sliced, diced and pulled apart, only to be put back together so it could start all over again. Then I got an offer to get off the rack, all I had to do was slice and dice the other poor souls that ended up there, just like me. Good Intentions, right? No, that was for purely selfish reasons. I couldn’t take another day. But unbeknownst to me or Sam, even Bobby, I started the Apocalypse without even knowing it. 

We saved the world, but Sam agreed to Lucifer’s meat suit and I was supposed to say yes to the archangel Michael. I’m his sword or whatever. It was destined for us to battle. Brother against brother, but I couldn’t. It didn’t matter, I lost Sam anyway. He found his way back, soulless, and I made a deal with Death to get that back, too. So screw destiny in the face, that’s what I said. 

Sammy tried to save the world and close the gates of Hell for good, but I stopped him because it was all one big lie. Sammy almost died. I almost lost the only person I ever lived for and for what? No, I couldn’t live with that, not again. So when the angels fell from Heaven and I prayed, one of ‘em answered. I tricked Sam into saying yes and then the son of a bitch tricked both of us. Cas became human and nearly died, too. 

I became frenemies with the King of Hell and met Cain. Yeah, that Cain. It’s how I ended up with the Mark of Cain on my arm. The curse to beat all curses. There’s that good intentions thing again. I needed it to kill a demon, a Knight of Hell, the baddest of the bad up to that point. It came with a hefty price and I am least proud of the things I did when I wore it. I died, again, but of course it didn’t stick, then the unthinkable happened. I became a demon. A Knight of Hell, the very thing I had taken on the Mark to kill. 

Even after my brother cured me from being a demon, I still had the Mark. It made me something I didn’t want to be. It was dark and evil and unforgiving. Do you know I even tried Confession? I went to a priest. A freakin’ priest. Sure it may have started off as a case, but most of what I confessed, it was real. 

Sammy, Cas and I, we spent the better part of a year looking for God. But he had left Heaven, turned his back on humanity. It’s not like I had a lot of faith in Him to begin with, but when I think back, that was when I lost what little I had left. We searched, we prayed, we bargained. But He never showed. 

The priest had asked me if I believed in God. Normally, I would have responded with some smart ass comment that would have made Sam kick me in the shins, but for the first time in a long time, I was honest. With the priest and with myself. I believe there is a God, but I am not sure He still believes in us. And that was the God’s honest truth. Ha! God’s honest truth. There’s an oxymoron for ya. 

Then about a year after that case, after we let the Darkness out of her prison. Out of the freakin’ blue, God showed his face. You wanna know why? Because the Darkness, her real name is Amara by the way, is God’s sister. He came for her, not for us. I’m still not sure if I bought his line of bullshit or not. He said he came to save us from her, but I really thought, still do, that he only came to save himself. I almost died in the process, again. Turned out Amara threw the biggest temper tantrum in the history of the universe and almost destroyed it. 

Life has a way of giving me the finger and I ended up saying yes to Michael anyway. He possessed me, made some fancy hybrid monsters and tried to take over the world just to burn it to the ground. 

Deals, spells, tricks and God, yeah, God, basically fucked us every step of the way, throwing an even bigger temper tantrum than his sister, like the dramatic little bitch he is. Bring on the monsters, Chuck. Bring it. Because the road to Hell may be paved with good intentions, but it was always gonna be me and Sammy till the wheels fall off and I’d take that any day and twice on Sunday. Not because He wrote it that way, but because that’s how we lived and that’s how we’ll die.

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @paintrider13-blog  @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @adoptdontshoppets @mtngirlforever

[livvybabyrocks]

Part 1: The Beginning of Therapy

Isabelle Alto’s PoV:

Right now I’m hospitalized and placed under intensive care at the Brynmar Beach Health Center on the psychiatric ward for teenagers and I’m trying to put my finger on how I got here for the first time. Yes I’m angry at myself and at the people who found me and didn’t let me go. I was really sure about what I was doing. I was one hundred percent sure about wanting to die but my wish, my craving for eternal peace had gotten crushed once again. My pretty blonde best friend and I had ordered illegal sleeping pills to kill ourselves.The day after my aunts wedding we locked ourselves in the guest house with the hot tub and the sauna. We got drunk, to take away the fear, we’ve made love in the pool to feel worthy for once and eventually we fell asleep on the King sized bed, cuddled up to one another, all the pills had been swallowed. But we were found before all life was gone. We were found, rushed to the hospital and revived, against our will. Against my will.

I’m much ashamed of my actions, because my mother and my father cried beside my bed. They were devastated, shaking,in shock. They needed treatment more than I did at that point. On the bed next to me my pretty blonde friend was resting and I was relieved when I heard that she was going to be okay. Not because I thought that she deserved to live, but because I couldn’t be blamed for her death. My aunt, Chrissie Landgraab, would’ve definetely blamed me. She was cold and strict and super defensive over anything and anyone she loved. Pretty blonde Abigail was her foster child and maybe one day her daughter in law, even though Chrissie’s real son was tending to suck out the life of the insides of Abigail’s longues but that’s another part of our tragic story. The real tragic in this moment was this room filled with crying people. My parents were crying, my uncle was crying, even Abigail cried and even though Chrissie shed no tear, I know she was bleeding in an emotional matter and I believe that I was very hurt by what had happened but I myself couldn’t cry. I felt emotionally cold and dead inside. I was feeling guilty but more for having failed, while Abigail was devastated about the fact that she had “ruined their wedding”. She kept saying that in tears when really this wasn’t even the point. 

Chrissie wasn’t too shy to announce that she believed that I was the one who had driven her foster child into trying to commit suicide. I wanted to snap back at her, tell her how her so perfect son had four different girfriends at the same time and had broken Abigail’s heart the day she had needed him the most, but he was there as well and more caring towards Abigail than ever before and I didn’t want to ruin that moment for my pretty blonde friend. I knew that there had been many people who had broken the little blonde girl but I also knew I wasn’t one of them. 

While I slowly realized that this scenario right now wouldn’t turn out okay again so soon I started to search for an explaination in my head. And I still am trying to do so. When had I gotten so cold emotionally? The shock that really cut me loose from my emotions, was when my younger uncle had been taken away to boarding school. We had a very special bond. I loved Julian more than the rest of our family, more than any other human being. He was the half brother of my father and three years younger than me. I believe I was sort of a big sister to him, or even a mother figure. At least I had used to be, but he was a child of the moon and got taken away from the “The Secret” organisation to a school for supernatural kids. I knew he wouldn’t be coming back. My best chances would be seeing him at Christmas, when he wasn’t serving the military like all supernaturals had to. He had been my only real friend in all those years, he had lived with us. His room right next to mine. We weren’t interested in being popular or dating like my younger sister. We were happy as long as we were together. I had known this day would come but I had somehow pushed the thoughts as far away from me as possible but the moment eventually came.

Looking back the first weeks were definetely not the worst. We e-mailed everyday and I took care of his pregnant dog and that made me feel still connected and close to Julian but the email contact started to run lower. He started to tell me how much he loved it there, how he was happier than ever before. Without me. He made many friends in the first week, and send me pictures, of pretty girls he hung out with. He had a whole crew he hung out with everyday. Soon enough only a few sentences a week were what I got back to my pages long stories on home life. And then one day he consulted me for advice. He had fallen in love with a girl named Elisabeth, with similiar powers to his. Her family was highly ranked in the military. And he had been told that he could continue studying from home when he agreed to an arranged marriage. 

I had been torn so much it physically hurt. I wanted him back home. Oh so much, more than anything and how he said that he was considering it because he missed me and didn’t want me to feel this miserable without him touched me deeply but I couldn’t imagine that he was going to be a married man soon. The thought of “losing” him to another woman was just too much. I didn’t quite understood my feelings towards the situation until it finally hit me. I had feelings for him, romantic feelings. I’ve had those feelings for a while, without realizing I did. I was so ashamed and denied every thought of this as strong as I could. I told him that I would appreciate him being able to marry someone he loved and shoved my feelings away, deep down into the secret depths of my soul no one could get to, not even me. For a while I was okay, happy about the fact that Julian might return home next year, even though he wouldn’t be returning alone.

But then came winter and winter was pretty exhausting. Our house was filled, more than usual. Our patchwork family got expended for a few weeks because Chrissie’s twin sister and her relatives visited over the holidays and for Chrissie’s wedding. I was stressed the entire time, for what I’m a very shy person, who prefers being on my own. One family outing or dinner or breakfast followed the others and the only person I enjoyed hanging out with, Abigail, got highly depressed over the holidays. We started talking about the possiblity of suicide. I told her my secrets and she told me hers. She tried to comfort me, with saying that I wasn’t really in love with Julian. I just missed him so much and during that time close attachment to a person could sometimes be confused as romance. We kissed that day. In the bathroom and for a while I believed that I maybe was in love with Abigail somehow. I had my first time with her and we grew very close, in secret.

On the day of the wedding we both reached our breaking point. I realized how I would never be a glamourising bride, standing under the wedding arch, looking into the eyes of my loved one. I was in love with my uncle. There was no more denying that, but this was wrong and so off. Now that I knew I would never be able again to look into Julian’s eyes. I couldn’t continue this sin but the sin lived so deep inside of me. It couldn’t be suffocated like that. I had to stop thinking an talking about it, I finally had to take the final step, so I couldn’t ruin other peoples lives with my messed up heart. Abigail must’ve come to a similiar realization for herself somehow. She said that she was ready now and so we set the date for tomorrow and tried to die together.

I could’ve tried saving Abigail, I could’ve tried to comfort her, but I had been selfish, I didn’t want to have to walk this final mile alone. Eventually no one of us mastered the final mile. We were both still alive. She has the potential to recover and be happy one day. I’m sure of that, but me, I’m not so sure about me. I feel deeply unhappy. I haven’t heard from Julian ever since that horror night and I’m scared he knows but doesn’t want to contact me. I’m not angry at my parents for placing me here against my will. I know with all my heart that they love me and I love them too, but sadly not enough. I’m kind of relieved I don’t have to be around Chrissie for a while, who hadn’t approved of any of my decisions lately. The nose piercing, the purple hair, indicators for trouble in her opinion and there I was. They call me trouble but that’s not my name. 

Author’s note: I’ve been playing this family for a couple of years now and developed a huge passion for intensive story telling and I wanted to start sharing my sims stories, so here is part one of a long, hopefully entertaining series. :) Thanks for reading. Always open for feedback and/or questions.

Happy Simming

[erhiem]

Already pandemic memorial tattoos are on the rise: sound waves from the last voicemail before undergoing COVID-19 complications; a masked nurse like a god; “I survived a global pandemic and I just got this stupid tattoo.” But the coronavirus also changed how we’re getting tattooed in less obvious ways. A year of trauma has imprinted on us thoughts of solidarity and empathy, and shops and studios flooding in as customers – artists across America with doubling of inquiries and bookings compared to the summer of 2019 – have been a trauma-informed one. The approach is taking hold.

The country’s 20,000 tattoo shops close their doors for months, some all year. With the reopening, they are making up for lost income and postponed appointments. Clinical counselor and trauma therapist Jordan Pickel wasn’t surprised to hear that the Instagram bios of many tattoo artists read “Books Closed” for another reason. Not only did we experience a pandemic, but the global death toll continues to rise. Survivors’ guilt and surrounding anxiety are feelings that settle in the body and stay there, even if we don’t notice them. Covering the body with symbols to see is a form of resistance and an act of recovery after a crisis.

“When something traumatic happens, it can shatter a person’s sense of security or stability, the idea that the world is a just place. Tattoos communicate ‘I have changed’ or ‘my worldview has changed,'” ‘” says Jordan. “Healing from trauma is multi-layered and self-determined, which means you get to decide what your healing process looks like. Getting a tattoo can totally play a role in emotional transformation.”

Photo courtesy of Alicia Chung

“I protect myself by decorating myself. It’s armor,” says Alicia Chung, a 24-year-old art student and accountability facilitator in Vancouver, Canada. Since restrictions were eased last fall, he’s been getting new inks almost every week, often occupied by his growing network of friends in private tattoo studios who run a rotary machine. A lot of his pieces make no sense, and he thinks he might as well be stupid — a spider on his elbow, a mud gun with a halo, a sexy peanut, “fast and furious” above the crotch — but the point is Alicia Chosen them. “It’s my weird, twisted way of gaining autonomy.”

The sudden and complete absence of autonomy is the hallmark of the pandemic era. This is at the root of complaints from anti-mascars and anti-vaxxers. This seemed to be the central conflict – even more powerful than the disease – of the quarantine essays written from vacation homes. Our newfound autonomy in a now-reopened society is stressing us out, creating FOMO in some and a fear of being left out in others. Emphasis on self-determination has always been a reason for getting tattoos, but in the post-pandemic scenario it has taken on new meaning.

“When my studio reopened in August, I was worried that people wouldn’t come,” says Ocean Sing, an artist based in Brooklyn, New York. “But more people wanted tattoos than before the pandemic. I think there was a zest for practicing agency, and I ended up getting tattooed on a lot of designs that people said they wanted for years. “

Psychologically, periods of separation and pause can act as a value reset. “Many of us had never faced the reality of ‘life is short,’ which leads to ‘why not’ decisions,” Jordan explains. For those who had money left over from government stimulus checks after paying rent and debt, getting a tattoo was something exciting.

Part of why Alicia has been under the needle so often is that the restaurant they work at has temporarily closed, the school has gone virtual and parties have been cancelled. They had too much time and too little socialization. “That’s when I can take a little rest or allow myself to rest,” he says. “It got to a point where I didn’t mind spending the money to get them all” [tattoos] Because I’m paying for those four hours to be on the table and get professional service. We become intimate and vulnerable but it maintains this customer relationship because I am paying for their trust and interaction. And the isolated pain of a billion vibrations.”

As social beings, we have suffered the loss of non-pod contact. Ocean could still sketch in lockdown if he had the energy, but couldn’t tell Miyazaki to chat with a stranger about movies while by the bathroom. spirited Away on their back. (“I prefer customs these days because they’re so cooperative,” he explains.) We remembered our third-tier friends, the people we laid eyes on the subway from and the professionals we called expertise. was paid instead.

Photo courtesy of Ocean Sing

“Tattoos are an experience you’ll never forget,” says Detroit artist and shop owner Chrissy the Butcher, who’s engaged anytime in her 13-year career. “You’re nervous, the adrenaline rushing. People want that feeling again. i have designed [my shop] So that it’s so quiet, people can bring their friends… there’s a vibe to it.”

According to Jordan, physical intimacy is an important part of restoration even after trauma. “Being around other people is a way that we co-regulate, which means our bodies go back into a sense of groundedness and security. It’s not something we really do on our own. ” For artists who see themselves as healers, this understanding comes first.

Jude Le Tronick specializes in flora and fauna – as nature was “a major healer” in his life – and does freehand blackwork exclusively from private studios established in Seattle. “Freehanding is for me and for the client. I think it’s a respectful process to be fully present.” Judd, which provides free scar cover-up tattoo services to survivors of domestic or sexual violence, believes that tattooists are not therapists, but still have stories of inner pain emanating from their clients. There should be room for

In Tamara Santibanez’s phenomenal manifesto/guidebook/love letter Could this be magic? tattooing as emancipation, published in March and developed from discussion groups conducted during the pandemic, they claim that a tattoo shop has the potential to be a significant site of community building and change. Historically, that ability has been undermined by a masculine culture lacking tenderness. There’s a dispute between street shops and DIY private studios, between artists asking you for consent to shave and between artists who photograph your lower back while you’re oblivious. Lily, 20, knew that for a memorial tattoo of her cousin who died by suicide during the quarantine, she wanted to patronize a queer-led shop and get a tattoo done by a non-male artist. “When I was doing this I didn’t have to worry about anyone maybe attacking me,” she says.

We are in a unique moment of systemic change and the impact of the pandemic on the future of tattoo spaces is beginning to show. For many, this is taking a trauma-informed direction; For others, a selfish fight-or-flight. Pat Fish has been tattooing for 37 years, and she estimates that the dozen tattoo studios around the Santa Barbara Valley have shrunk to six since Covid hit. “I think everyone else is advertising on Craigslist that they’ll be visiting a house, a completely unwell condition. The major effect of the pandemic is that people realized ‘I’m going to have to inspect me once a year. Why should I pay $380 to the health department?’ They are not taking their responsibility as an agent of change seriously.”

“The old thing was you were grassroots because you want someone randomly walking to hear the sound, buzzzz, and to intrigue in the door,” Pat continues. “Now I think, ‘I don’t want you to move, who are you?’ If I’m going to have face-to-face contact with people, let it be that.

A safe space requires acknowledging the dynamic force between the tattooer and the client. When Ocean holds a stencil, for example, they tell the client it’s not a big deal to move or replace, they won’t go crazy. “When I was getting my first tattoo, I was afraid to ask for what I wanted. Even if you’re not traumatized, it’s a scary thing to be in a situation where a stranger might notice your presence. Changes forever.”

Getting a tattoo has always been scary for some people. Jade Bell is a Los Angeles tattoo artist and illustrator who grew up seeing her mother being deprived of shops for being a black woman. When they found an aspiring artist, they weren’t necessarily trained appropriately. “I literally saw a girl give my mom a keloid scar because she didn’t know how to work with darker skin tones,” Jade says.

America’s “plague years” included one of the largest protest movements in the country’s history, making it impossible to close the ongoing racial count. This resonated throughout the tattoo community, as Instagram infographics circulated resources for inking various skin pigments and white artists were singled out for a culturally appropriation flash.

Photo courtesy of Chrissy the Butcher

“People started to realize they had no black art [tattoo] collection,” says Jade. “I asked my partner, ‘Hey, can you name five Blacks’ [tattoo] artist’s?’ we could not. ‘What about five famous tattoo models who are black?’ We couldn’t think of anyone at all.”

Luckily Jade is a Virgo, so she was fearless at the idea of ​​changing the culture herself. “I like to represent myself in the things I love. I had never seen black women drawn in the portrayal style that I see other women drawn all the time. I’m four-eyed black girls.” I am developing my universe.”

Chrissy the Butcher lives and works in Detroit, America’s largest black-majority city. Over the past year, she has seen ideas about race and society make their way onto the body. “Tattoos help people heal from generational trauma. It causes you to research the imagery presented by our ancestors. I see people getting African symbols with the turn of 2021, and I’m getting that tattoo. I’m building what I love and know, anything that relates to the black female form.”

A common counterargument is ‘Why remind yourself of your hardship on your body?’ “I’m thinking about it anyway,” says Kansas City physician Jesse Lee. “My trauma defines a lot of who I am and I was offended by it. Now I’m really happy [for it] Because I love who I am now.”

In February, Jesse got a bicep tattoo of a plant blooming from a can of tomatoes. For years, she pointed to her “nonsense childhood” without actually addressing it. When someone described her trauma to her as a jar of rotten tomatoes that gained more and more pressure over time, until the lid burst and the juices spilled everywhere, Jesse summed it up in a poem. Changed. After a one-year hiatus, in which she finally stuck with therapy and did things she wouldn’t allow herself to do as a fat woman – like roller skating, wearing crop tops, and considering her body a canvas – She was ready to make it a permanent reminder.

“People have experienced more trauma in the last five or so years than I think we have ever experienced collectively. Just by going to the Internet we are constantly digesting other people’s traumas,” Jesse says. A tattoo becomes a positive part of your story.”

It is beautiful to see collective grief metamorphose when we heal individually. “So much healing from trauma involves humor, at least for me,” Alicia says. “People ask me what I’ll think of my sexy Peanuts tattoo in 30 years. Maybe I look back and say to myself, ‘You could probably love yourself a little more, apparently it’s yours’ There was a way to compete. I think it’s nice to have a mark of remembrance for being a wrinkled old woman with a portrait made during a crazy time in the world.”

Follow iD on Instagram and TikTok for more culture.

.

The post The tattoo artists healing our collective trauma post-pandemic appeared first on Spicy Celebrity News.

[piercedageek]

Restless

Tonight’s one of those nights where I just feel restless and find myself feeling very alone and empty, there’s not just one rhyme or reason but many so I thought I would write them down here tonight rather than just let me tears run down in silence. I think the reason I cling onto Dustin so much is because he’s one of the few people who I have left that is still somewhat mentally stable who was there for me when I was getting over my ex fiancé as well as when I felt truly alone inside and just ready to give up on life all together. I’m mad at myself for ever developing strong emotions for him, it’s not his fault at all but there’s times i wish I didn’t love him as much as I did because it just complicates our friendship and at times when I get too emotional or too attached it pushes him away and I know I’ll never have a chance to be with him and I hate the fact I’m not fully over my feelings for him... I love him but I truly don’t want to because I feel our friendship would be in a better place if it wasn’t for me catching feelings. I want to stay his friend even if he never dates me or sees me that way because he’s one person I can’t afford to lose, I’d lose a huge part of myself if I lost him entirely... I just miss being close to him but I understand people change and peoples choices change. I miss the sexual relationship I use to have with him... I miss how we would sometimes cuddle before i freaked him out with my over emotional bullshit. I lost his trust not just in general but even sexually. I wanted to lie to myself and believe he may have had feelings for me even if he wasn’t physically into me.. I hoped maybe he at least felt something more for me that’s more than a friend even emotionally even if it wasn’t sexual and it’s my fault for wanting to believe something more would come out of our friends with benefits and when I got rejected I took it out on him and I regret it every single day. I lost my one best friend who I was deeply close to and when she died she took a piece of my heart, when my ex fiancé left me another piece of my heart broke off and then when my other ex Chrissi passed away this October another piece fell apart... I feel like I keep losing the people that have meant the most to me that kept my heart together and Dustin is the last piece I have regardless if we’re just strictly friends... yes I have other friends but they don’t understand me the way these people I mentioned have... I think the reason I developed so many feelings for him is because he was the first person who loved to sit in a car for long hours like me, we both liked deep and emotional music, we both would listen to each other’s problems and comfort each other... when we first met he gave me the physical affection I was starving for even if it was only when he was drunk... I feel like I took advantage of him being drunk because I knew if he was drunk then he was more likely to do things he wouldn’t do sober and I clinged into that which again I know I’m in the wrong for. There was times I wish he felt the same sober but again that was me being delusional and wanting there to be something more that was never there to begin with. He always stud up for me and stuck up for me, he never let anyone take advantage of me money wise or emotionally... he was there to stop my suicide attempts.. he would be there if i felt like cutting and didn’t make me feel like a freak for it.. he never judged me... he was everything I ever wanted in a person to be with romantically and the fact we had a sexual relationship but I was rejected outside of that really hurt me... again this isn’t his fault for not feeling the same.. it just hurt more than anything because he’s everything I ever looked for emotionally in a person even if he wasn’t the same type of emotional person as me... he’s not needy as me emotionally... he’s strong and able to be fine even on his own... he’s not mushy wish words but he shows he cares through actions.... he’s artistic and has a way with words... when I’d look at him it would make my day better just by being in his presence... he filled so many voids in my heart.... I thought to myself it’s okay if I ever get to be in a relationship with him because his friendship is enough... I’d rather have his friendship than a romantic relationship with anyone else... but I realize that’s not healthy now. I know he will never believe that i really fell hard for him, it’s not that I like the idea of him but I truly fell for him because I loved everything about him. I haven’t been being one hundred percent honest with myself and I haven’t been honest with him simply because I don’t want to freak him out and lose him. For the most part it doesn’t bother me anymore. Most days I don’t have feeling but every now and then they creep up on me and sometimes it does bug me that sometimes I do have feelings and they come out... I get jealous other ppl are able to cuddle with him and be close to him in ways I can’t... He’s honestly the last thing holding me together and having to go a month without talking to him feels like forever... he’s the one person I could always go to but I understand he also has his own shit to deal with and it’s not his job to make sure I’m always okay... it’s not his job to fill in the voids because he’s the only one left I feel close to and safe with. I honestly just wanna breakdown and cry because I don’t know what to do.... There times I am honest but because of my past mistakes I know it’s hard for him to believe me... it’s like the boy who cried wolf. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him and I pray one day I can earn his trust back.... I just want everything to be okay again... it’s not everyday you find someone you feel close to.... it’s not every day someone truly loves you for who you are and doesn’t give up on you.... not every day someone who accepts you fully as you.... The thought of not having him in my life makes me shed so many tears, I’d rather let him stab and shoot me than have to lose him, I know I’ll eventually fully be over him emotionally I just hope he knows I’m sorry and how much I love him and how much he means to me... he’s like the family I never had... he’s the acceptance I never had... he’s the safety I never felt... he’s the tough love I’ve always needed... he’s always trying to help me better myself and make me face my lies and my issues... I’ve never had a lot of those things... he made me feel completely loved and yes I understand to him it’s platonic and it’s not his fault... I hope the next person I get to be in a relationship with... I hope they have a lot of his qualities... but i also know there will never be another person like him... I should feel lucky I have him even as a friend instead of wishing and wanting more... it’s selfish of me for not letting the past go... I just never met anyone who made me feel this way and that’s why the rejection from him romantically hurts more than anyone else ever did... it’s not because he’s a bad person it’s because he has so many things I ever wanted in a person and I know I can’t have that with him but I need to start to try to push harder for someone who could.. even if I have to date and get rejected... I still need to keep pushing forward and stop crying over the loved ones who passed away... and stop crying over things I can’t have and start looking at then possibilities I could have if I just keep trying harder.... My minds all over the place and it’s harder to type so i guess I better get some sleep. On another note, this song is for you Kelli and Chrissi, I love and miss you both so much. https://youtu.be/tpmawc8gAjY

[jamiesrecovery]

Restless

Tonight’s one of those nights where I just feel restless and find myself feeling very alone and empty, there’s not just one rhyme or reason but many so I thought I would write them down here tonight rather than just let me tears run down in silence.

I think the reason I cling onto Dustin so much is because he’s one of the few people who I have left that is still somewhat mentally stable who was there for me when I was getting over my ex fiancé as well as when I felt truly alone inside and just ready to give up on life all together. I’m mad at myself for ever developing strong emotions for him, it’s not his fault at all but there’s times i wish I didn’t love him as much as I did because it just complicates our friendship and at times when I get too emotional or too attached it pushes him away and I know I’ll never have a chance to be with him and I hate the fact I’m not fully over my feelings for him... I love him but I truly don’t want to because I feel our friendship would be in a better place if it wasn’t for me catching feelings. I want to stay his friend even if he never dates me or sees me that way because he’s one person I can’t afford to lose, I’d lose a huge part of myself if I lost him entirely... I just miss being close to him but I understand people change and peoples choices change. I miss the sexual relationship I use to have with him... I miss how we would sometimes cuddle before i freaked him out with my over emotional bullshit. I lost his trust not just in general but even sexually. I wanted to lie to myself and believe he may have had feelings for me even if he wasn’t physically into me.. I hoped maybe he at least felt something more for me that’s more than a friend even emotionally even if it wasn’t sexual and it’s my fault for wanting to believe something more would come out of our friends with benefits and when I got rejected I took it out on him and I regret it every single day.

I lost my one best friend who I was deeply close to and when she died she took a piece of my heart, when my ex fiancé left me another piece of my heart broke off and then when my other ex Chrissi passed away this October another piece fell apart... I feel like I keep losing the people that have meant the most to me that kept my heart together and Dustin is the last piece I have regardless if we’re just strictly friends... yes I have other friends but they don’t understand me the way these people I mentioned have...

I think the reason I developed so many feelings for him is because he was the first person who loved to sit in a car for long hours like me, we both liked deep and emotional music, we both would listen to each other’s problems and comfort each other... when we first met he gave me the physical affection I was starving for even if it was only when he was drunk... I feel like I took advantage of him being drunk because I knew if he was drunk then he was more likely to do things he wouldn’t do sober and I clinged into that which again I know I’m in the wrong for. There was times I wish he felt the same sober but again that was me being delusional and wanting there to be something more that was never there to begin with. He always stud up for me and stuck up for me, he never let anyone take advantage of me money wise or emotionally... he was there to stop my suicide attempts.. he would be there if i felt like cutting and didn’t make me feel like a freak for it.. he never judged me... he was everything I ever wanted in a person to be with romantically and the fact we had a sexual relationship but I was rejected outside of that really hurt me... again this isn’t his fault for not feeling the same.. it just hurt more than anything because he’s everything I ever looked for emotionally in a person even if he wasn’t the same type of emotional person as me... he’s not needy as me emotionally... he’s strong and able to be fine even on his own... he’s not mushy wish words but he shows he cares through actions.... he’s artistic and has a way with words... when I’d look at him it would make my day better just by being in his presence... he filled so many voids in my heart.... I thought to myself it’s okay if I ever get to be in a relationship with him because his friendship is enough... I’d rather have his friendship than a romantic relationship with anyone else... but I realize that’s not healthy now.

There times I am honest but because of my past mistakes I know it’s hard for him to believe me... it’s like the boy who cried wolf. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him and I pray one day I can earn his trust back.... I just want everything to be okay again... it’s not everyday you find someone you feel close to.... it’s not every day someone truly loves you for who you are and doesn’t give up on you.... not every day someone who accepts you fully as you....

The thought of not having him in my life makes me shed so many tears, I’d rather let him stab and shoot me than have to lose him, I know I’ll eventually fully be over him emotionally I just hope he knows I’m sorry and how much I love him and how much he means to me... he’s like the family I never had... he’s the acceptance I never had... he’s the safety I never felt... he’s the tough love I’ve always needed... he’s always trying to help me better myself and make me face my lies and my issues... I’ve never had a lot of those things... he made me feel completely loved and yes I understand to him it’s platonic and it’s not his fault... I hope the next person I get to be in a relationship with... I hope they have a lot of his qualities... but i also know there will never be another person like him... I should feel lucky I have him even as a friend instead of wishing and wanting more... it’s selfish of me for not letting the past go... I just never met anyone who made me feel this way and that’s why the rejection from him romantically hurts more than anyone else ever did... it’s not because he’s a bad person it’s because he has so many things I ever wanted in a person and I know I can’t have that with him but I need to start to try to push harder for someone who could.. even if I have to date and get rejected... I still need to keep pushing forward and stop crying over the loved ones who passed away... and stop crying over things I can’t have and start looking at then possibilities I could have if I just keep trying harder....

My minds all over the place and it’s harder to type so i guess I better get some sleep.

On another note... this song is for you Kelli and Chrissi, I love and miss you both so much... I’d give anything to hug you both one last time.

https://youtu.be/tpmawc8gAjY

[iwillsendapostcard]

Lizzie’s anniversary playlist

This weekend marks one year since my introduction to this amazing, crazy, brilliant fandom. Hooray! *throws confetti over herself*. I wanted to do something to celebrate- so here is my own robron playlist inspired by other amazing ones that I have seen in fandom. 

It seems a bit funny to do a playlist- given that neither of the boys seems to be into their music that much. But I have lost count of a number of times that I’ve been listening to spotify at work and thought to myself “hey, this reminds me of robron.”

This playlist is made up of songs that I think the boys will have heard around the village that makes them think of the times they have shared together. There is one song for every month of robron we have had so far. I’ll be posting the different eras of the whole playlist throughout the weekend and the whole thing can be listened to here. 

Part One- The Affair 

December 2014 The Car You Drive- Josh Flowers  I don’t love you for the things you say/when are you going to realise/ they don’t mean nothing/ I love you for the car you drive. 

Given how much of their relationship has been based around cars this song is a perfect place to start a robron playlist. I also love the cavalier attitude in this song- the narrator is focusing on the material in the relationship which, for me, reflects the fact that the boys entered this relationship purely for the sex. Speaking of which...

January 2015 Worship- Years and Years  I worship, high praises/ my longing drives me crazy for you/ my kingdom, for your graces/ I'm not going to tell nobody 'bout you 

I love the connexion between sex and worship in this song and I think it fits right in with the fact that the physical relationship robron have is something incredible. Nice use of the double negative there; within the song it speaks of something private and secret but if you're being a nerd and reading it literally it means that someone will be told.

February 2015 Selfish Love- Jessie Ware  Baby, tell me why are we like this/ there's only room for one in your heart... why do I do these things/ I break you down just to get my way/ selfish love, darlin' you do it too/ you tell me lies and I bend the truth...

By now we know that those pesky feelings are beginning to get in the way of things. "Selfish" is, of course, one of Robert's main character traits but I wonder if this might be applied to Aaron here too? After all, as the affair continued he began to make demands on Robert's time that he made a great big fuss about resting while not being able to resist them at all. Honestly, in all this, it's Chrissie I feel sorry for. Worst. Wedding. Ever. 

March 2015 Please Don’t Say You Love Me- Gabrielle Aplin  Just please don't say you love me/ 'cause I might not say it back/ doesn't mean my heart stops skipping/ when you look at me like that...

March 2015 gives us one of my favourite ever robron moments (that just so happened to fall on my birthday) "I love you, and I can't watch you suffer!" The way the boys verbally express their love for each other is one of my favourite things about the way they are portrayed on screen. And, as this song says, just because a love is not spoken aloud does not mean it's not being felt. Deeply. 

April 2015 Back to Balck- Amy Winehouse You went back to what you knew/ so far removed/ from all that we've been through... you go back to her/ and I go back to black

I could talk for HOURS about the Easter at Home Farm scenes. But the look on Aaron's face when he gets back to find that Chrissie is coming home and that he'll have to give up this fantasy where he and Robert are together just breaks me every time

May 2015 Dangerous- The xx You are dangerous, but I don't care/ I'm going to pretend that I'm not scared/ if this only ends in tears/ then I won't say goodbye... if it all falls down/ you'll have been my favourite mistake... 

For me, it's at about this time where things start getting, well, dangerous. Feelings are too strong to be denied and there's a sense that however this ends people are going to get hurt. Does it stop either of them? Of course not. 

June 2015 Worst in Me- Juila Michaels But maybe it's the worst in me/ that's bringing out the worst in you/ I know we can fix these kinks/ but the worst in me doesn't want to work on things/ but the best of me wants to love you/ but the worst in me doesn't want to

Aaron's conflict over whether loving someone like Robert makes him a bad person is so raw and painful. But it shows who Aaron is deep in the soul so I also think it's very beautiful. And it's true- the boys have always brought out the very best and very worst in each other. it's just that at this point in time the balance was very skewed in one person's direction.

July 2015 Painful to Watch- FOURS 'Cause I need to be without you/ to feel alive/ and I could function pretty well/ before you arrived/ and I would love to be free/ to focus on my life/ and I was made before I met you/ I wish you'd let us die

This is my break-up anthem and a tune that was made to dance around your room in your underwear to. Oh, if only Aaron and Robert would take some time to focus on themselves! But this is the 'dales ;)

[those70scomics]

i hate people keeps saying hyde only loved jackie when he was in love with donna for good part of season 1. he clearly loved her deeply and probably still does until season 5 (he even casually offered to sleep with her in season 4). in season 1 he fell for his girlfriend chrissy, in season 4 he had feelings for the cute black girl and he had feelings for his wife (they were married!). it's selfish of JH shippers to say the only woman hyde ever loved is jackie.

i hate people keeps saying hyde only loved jackie when hewas in love with donna for good part of season 1.

I’m going to analyze this assertion from a fact-basedstandpoint, using evidence from the show.

Hyde has held onto a picture of her from middle school foryears where her bra strap is visible. He explicitly tells Donna in “First Date”(1x16) that he has “feelings” for her. He asks Donna why she has “a thing” forEric in “That Disco Episode (1x07), and he pursues her relentlessly throughoutmuch of the season.

It’s the nature of that pursuit, however, that makes Hyde atroubling character in season 1 and reveals his original purpose on the show:to be Eric’s villainous foil and illustrate how much better a person Eric is –in general and for Donna – in comparison to him. While Hyde is definitelyshown to have romantic feelings for and sexual attraction toward Donna inseason 1, labeling it love or as him being in love isproblematic. What he experiences is a sense of possession over and/orentitlement to Donna. As will become evident in the discussion below. The Eric/Donna/Hyde triangle isn’t actually a triangle. From “That ‘70s Pilot”(1x01) and all the subsequent episodes of season 1, Donna’s romantic feelingsfor Eric are explicitly stated and demonstrated. “You could’ve had me when wewere four,” she tells Eric early in the pilot and kisses him on the lips by theend of it. She also implicitly (subtextually) demonstrates her romanticfeelings for Eric.

She never, however, demonstrates – explicitly or implicitly– that she has romantic feelings for Hyde. In fact, the opposite is true. In“Eric’s Buddy,” Hyde puts his hand on Donna’s thigh. She tells him to “Moveyour hand.” She means, “Remove your hand,” but her imprecision inspireshim to rub her leg up and down instead. She grasps his hand and shoves it offher, clearly not welcoming or enjoying the physical contact. After Hyde hits on her in “Ski Trip” (1x13), she tells him, “I’m up here with Eric, alright Eric, get it?Not you!”

A true romantic triangle requires the person in the middle have romanticfeelings for both suitors. Donna does not. She has romantic feelings for onlyEric. And this is where the problem lies. Hyde ignores what she wants. She tells andshows him repeatedly that she doesn’t share his romantic interest. He continuesto pursue her. He forces a kiss on her in “Ski Trip” after she tells him tostop hitting on her. She shoves him off her during the kiss and slaps him.

But he still doesn’t get the message or care about her desires. Heessentially stalks her in “First Date” and attempts to stop Eric from givingher his class ring and making their relationship official. Once Eric does give Donna his class ring, however, that is finally enough to get Hyde to stop pursuing her and invading her boundaries, but thedamage has been done.

What Hyde demonstrates in season 1 is not love for Donna butselfishness. His own feelings are the only ones that matter, not hers. Love isacceptance and compromise. It’s giving to another for that purpose only: togive. Love often entails making sacrifices. It can also mean letting the personone loves go if it means s/he’ll be happy.Hyde begins demonstrates these qualities of (romantic) love only withJackie.

With Donna, Hyde’s “love” is ignoring what she wants to get what hewants. Invading her boundaries. Trying to disrupt her happiness with Eric.

[Hyde] clearly loved [Donna] deeply and probably still does untilseason 5 (he even casually offered to sleep with her in season 4).

What Hyde demonstrates during seasons 1-8 is platonic love for Donna.Not romantic love. He supports her relationship with Eric unconditionally. Hehelps them out when they have problems (may episodes throughout seasons 2-7).

Saying “he even casually offered to sleep with [Donna]” is an imprecisedescription of what actually happens in “The Relapse” (4x106). His comment mustbe taken within the context of Donna’s story arc, the episode, and the scene inwhich that line takes place.

Donna is grieving the end of her parents’ marriage and the absence ofher mother. She’s so desperate for distraction from her pain that she has sexwith her ex-boyfriend, Eric. She’s in the midst of trying to eat away herfeelings (literally eat; she gobbles down all the food she can), but it’s obviously not working. That’s when she initiates sexualcontact with Eric.

Eric, meanwhile, is heartbroken over his breakup with her. Because ofhow much trust Donna needs in Eric to have sex with him during theirrelationship, he falsely believes having sex with her in this episode meansthey’re back together. He doesn’t take into account the fact that she’s inmourning. He’s thinking of only his own grief.

Later in the episode, Hyde informs Donna that Eric believes he and Donnaare “back together”. Hyde tells her this as a friend to both of them, to makesure they clear this up before either of them gets even more hurt.

Donna, though, admits that, “I would have done it [had sex] withanybody.”

Hyde recognizes her pain, and hisgo-to-place in tense moments is to try to lighten the mood. We see him do thiswith Eric’s parents a lot, with Eric in “Eric’s False Alarm” (4x25), and he doesthe same with Jackie in “Black Dog” (5x09). So he says to Donna, “Anybody?Damn, and I was just over there watching stupid Donahue. Hey, let’s doit right now.” He’s teasing her, trying to get a laugh out of her. When it doesn’t work, heshifts out of his normal make-jokes mode and gives her the sympathy she needs.He says, “Yeah, I’m just kidding about the do it stuff. I’m sorry aboutyour mom.” He puts his arm around her, giving her platonic, physical (not sexual)comfort, too. Like siblings would do.

He silently holds her for a very long time. It’s not something we’ve seenhim do before, and considering his childhood, it’s probably not something he’sexperienced himself. He can tolerate only so much of it before his discomfortbecomes unbearable, and he falls back into his defense mechanism of makingjokes.

“Seriously, let’s do it right now,” he says. That’s his way of makinghimself feel comfortable and, perhaps, of ending this very (platonically)intimate moment between him and another person. Hyde is someone who doesn’tdeal with emotion well, largely because he’s been through what Donna’s goingthrough during season 4. After season 1, he often tries to hide his feelingsfrom himself and the world, and empathizing with Donna’s grief takes an emotionaltoll.

in season 1 he fell for his girlfriend chrissy

Chrissy is not Hyde’sgirlfriend in “Punk Chick” (1x22). He knows her for twenty-four hours at most. They meet each other for the first time in the early evening. He sleeps with her twice,and she asks him to go to New York with her. The next day, he tells her hecan’t go with her. By the end of the episode, he and his friends spot herdriving off on her Vespa with another guy on the back of it.

The episode shows no evidence that Hyde falls in love with Chrissy. He fallsin love with the idea of leaving his awful childhood (and mother) behind andgoing to New York and maybe meeting one of his rock idols, Lou Reed.

in season 4 he had feelings for the cute black girl

Yes, Melissa is verycute (and smart) and had a lot of potential as a character. But Hyde knows herfor all of an hour. They don’t have a relationship. They have an awkward,uncomfortable time together at the get-Hyde-a-girlfriend party. He’s clearly physically attracted to her from the start, butlove? That would take a lot longer than an hour of awkwardness to develop.

and he had feelings for his wife (they were married!).

Hyde marrying Samin season 8 is entirely out of character, and it’s not something he wouldactually do. The new showrunners hired for season 8 stated in an interview (TVGuide, I believe) that they hated Jackie and Hyde together and neverunderstood their romantic relationship. So they were putting an end to it. How?By marrying Hyde off to a new character.

In order to view Hyde’s marriage to Sam as legitimate, one must ignoreHyde’s long-established characterization and storylines from “Prom Night” (1x19) to the season7 finale. None of what happens in season 8, however, is legitimate. Even DavidTrainer, That ‘70s Show’s director for the whole series, save the pilot,called season 8 an “alternate universe” and “one of many possible futures” forthe characters.

it’s selfish of JH shippers to say the only woman hyde everloved is jackie.

J/H shippers don’t say that Jackie is the only woman Hydeever loved. Perhaps many of us say that she’s the only woman he is ever properly inlove with.

I can speak only for myself, but selfishness has nothing todo with my views about Jackie and Hyde. I analyze and interpret Hyde and Jackiebased on their actions on the show, within the context of the whole series,and I take into account the writing. What were the writers’ intentions with aparticular story arc? Does conflict arise organically from who the characters are,or are the characters manipulated against their natures to manufactureconflict?

You clearly don’t like Jackie’s character and/or don’t likeJackie and Hyde together. That’s your right. But calling or viewing other people as selfish for not sharing your opinion isnot beneficial to you or anyone else.

[scrapyardboyfriends]

25 July 2017 - I actually quite like this one. Let me know if you have a favorite part!

[The Cafe with Robert and Charity]

CHARITY: Hey Squatter Boy! (FANDOM: Ooh a new nickname!)

ROBERT: *It was supposed to be my home too before the Plot stole it from me Face*

CHARITY: See you’re rocking the homeless chic look and the sad floppy hair? Nice. Really going full force with the wallowing!

ROBERT: *I’ve lost the will to shower Face*

CHARITY: So Victoria told me you’ve moved back into the Mill. That’s classy of you, taking advantage of Liv still being off with her Plot Device of a mum and giving Aaron a destination to flee to. I know the Plot made you do it, but you know Aaron’s not going to want you there.

ROBERT: How is Liv? The fans are really invested in our relationship and I would hate to see the Plot destroy that.

CHARITY: Yeah, like I said, still with her Plot Device of a mum. She’s off screen, so she really has no Plot for me to tell you about.

ROBERT: and *Pause*? - That pause means Aaron by the way! Tell me about AARON! Please!!!!

CHARITY: Anyway, so the reason I’m in this scene is because the Plot stole my keys from me so that I would need yours to facilitate us interacting later in the episode. I suppose it’s vaguely in character for me. Considering everything that’s happening in your Plot right now, I should be grateful for that.

ROBERT: Well I wasn’t briefed on this Plot Point, so I don’t have them with me. I’m guessing there’s for a reason that we’ll both discover later.

CHARITY: Oh Robert Sugden-Dingle (FANDOM: WHYYYYYY!!! Are they back together yet?) If I didn’t know better I’d say you were holding onto them as a little souvenier.

ROBERT: What reason could I possibly have for that?

CHARITY: Because you’re a sappy sentimental softie and you want to remind yourself of that time before the Plot destroyed your happiness…

ROBERT: *Right, that Face* It’s a good thing you know me better than that then...cause I’m not like that AT ALL #AreWeBackTogetherYet

CHARITY: Look, just bring the Plot Keys over when you’ve had a shower.

ROBERT: *I was hoping to recreate the scent of dirty lake water because that’s when this whole Hell Plot really started and I want to go back and change it Face*

[The Cafe with Robert and Victoria]

ROBERT: *Sees Victoria sit down across from him* When will the Plot let me live?! I’m just here for a coffee, not a pity party...but actually, please pity me because I’m nothing now and not even this Americano can save me. #AreWeBackTogetherYet

VICTORIA: Look, I’m over this phase of the Plot, everyone is. (FANDOM: Yep, let’s move on to the big twist that’s never coming! #LetTheTheoryLive)

ROBERT: Good, me too. #AreWeBackTogetherYet *Tries to leave*

VICTORIA: No no, just because everyone is over the Plot, doesn’t mean we don’t still have to endure it. Sit back down.

ROBERT: *I fucking hate this Plot Face*

VICTORIA: The Plot would like you to apologize to Rebecca because she’s a victim and you’re a monster, a really sad and pitiful one right now, but yep, still a monster. Anyway, I’m here to put the idea in your head so you can do it later.

ROBERT: But why would I apologize to her? The fans don’t even want us to share scenes.

VICTORIA: Because Robert, the Plot has had you be repeatedly vile to her to make you look like an asshole. I mean it’s mostly in character for you, but it has been pretty extreme.

ROBERT: Look, Vic! Can you just stay out of my Plot. Didn’t you have one of your own? Why did you just abandon it for mine?

VICTORIA: Robert! You’re all over the place! Having a go at anyone who matters!

ROBERT: Rebecca doesn’t matter #SpeakingForTheFandom #SpeakingForThePlotMostOfTheTime

VICTORA: Well do I matter? Because you’re having a go at me and I am not to blame for any of your problems. None of us are.

ROBERT: Well that’s not strictly true. But cheers for putting everything on me. Maxine already had me own my part in all of this months ago. It’s hardly my fault the Plot wouldn’t allow Aaron to get the help he needs for his multitude of issues that the Plot has forced on him for years and years. Nope, the Plot had to save up all of his internal pain just so it could all blow up in our faces and wring out all of the tears it could from him. Now he’s had to go off screen so he could replenish them probably. Real nice Plot! Thanks! Please get him proper help this time so he can be healthier by the time you get us back together so that we don’t repeat this Plot again a few months down the line. I also probably need a lot of therapy but I care more about Aaron’s well being so let’s start there. #AreWeBackTogetherYet

VICTORIA: I’m not blaming you Robert. You’re right, the Plot sucks, I’m just worried! This isn’t you Robert.

ROBERT: *This is me now until the Plot fixes things Face* #AreWeBackTogetherYet

[The Woolpack with Robert, Victoria, Chrissie, Rebecca, Charity and Lawrence]

VICTORIA: Here, have more alcohol. That will totally help you.

CHARITY: Plot Keys please!

ROBERT: Yep, didn’t bring them. Still think it’s important that I don’t just hand them over.

CHARITY: Vic, restrict his alcohol intake until he gives me my keys.

ROBERT: *grabs pint* *how am I supposed to wallow effectively without alcohol Face*

VICTORIA: *Takes pint back* *Figure it out Face*

LAWRENCE: *Stuff about Lachlan* #LetSerialKillerLachlanRise *Lawrence leaves because he is unnecessary at the moment*

REBECCA: So, tell me about your bio Uncle that you don’t know is your bio Uncle! I’m sure the fact that Robert is lurking in the background will have no effect on me later.

ROBERT: *Sits down within earshot* Oh no, do continue. You’re in a scene with me, so you must be talking about this Plot. If I’m forced to live it, I might as well hear everyone else go on about it.

CHRISSIE: We’re not talking about your Plot, we’re talking about mine where I’m trying to flirt with my bio Uncle.

ROBERT: Great then, I’d rather hear about other Plots anyway. Besides, maybe I can use this one to my advantage.

CHRISSIE AND REBECCA: *Haha this totally won’t come back to bite us Face*

ROBERT: Hey, I’m drunk and sad but don’t call me pathetic and weak. You know what would be fun! Let me give everyone in the pub my sexual history with the two of you.

CHRISSIE AND REBECCA: *Yep that happened Face*

ROBERT: And now I’m stuck in this Hell Plot having a Plot Baby with you Rebecca…

CHRISSIE: What’s your point Robert?

REBECCA: That he’s really good at sleeping around and we keep going along with it?

ROBERT: My point is that Aaron is the bestest thing that ever happened to me and I love him more than showers and sobriety and life itself and I’m gonna shout it to the world now and the Plot keeps throwing you two in my way. #AreWeBackTogetherYet

VICTORIA: Robert! Shut it and shove it...out the door!

ROBERT: And you! You value a plotship over your own brother! You took her in over me!

REBECCA: *Obviously, Plot is thicker than blood Face*

VICTORIA: You know that’s not what happened! #SureJan

ROBERT: You know what I haven’t talked about in a while, my issues with Andy. You would have never taken the Whites’ side over Andy. In fact, you didn’t! You wanted to take Chrissie down for framing him and you called Rebecca a shark! On second thought though, if it involved a baby, you probably would have. You were all about Johnny when you thought he was Adam’s. What is it with you and your baby obsession Vic? It’s really disconcerting at this point! #SpeakingForTheFandom

VICTORIA: *Grabs Robert by the ear*

ROBERT: OW!!! That really actually hurts. Can you stop please?!

VICTORIA: Nope, it’s working really well. Come on!

CHRISSIE AND REBECCA: *Laughing now until Robert gets involved in their Home Farm Plots*

[The Mill of Misery with Robert and Victoria and the Spiral Staircase from Hell]

ROBERT: I do know how to get home Vic! The Plot hasn’t taken my sense of direction yet. That’s about the only thing it’s left me. #AreWeBackTogetherYet

VICTORIA: It stinks in here! Aaron will never get back together with you if he comes back to this!

ROBERT: You know, you didn’t have to rough me up!

VICTORIA: Get over yourself! I get that you’re feeling sad about losing the love of your life but so did I!

ROBERT: Oh, you want to get into #HusbandDiscourse do ya?! Adam is no Aaron, okay! Aaron is everything! Aaron Dingle changed my entire life and losing him is literally killing me okay! I can’t even take a shower because I can’t use my poncy ripoff shower gel because now it’s a symbol of our love alright! Do you have that with Adam? No, didn’t think so! You got drunk once during your break up Plot. What kind of commitment is that? I’ve gotten drunk multiple times now over Aaron! I am fully in on this wallowing thing! You couldn’t even stick with your own Plot long enough to be truly upset about it because you had to come and interfere with mine! And here you are, still interfering! Oh and, just to add, it’s entirely different because you ended things in the end, not him. He wants you back. I would give anything for Aaron to want me right now! #AreWeBackTogetherYet

VICTORIA: I take it back. Everything is your fault. If you didn’t get caught up in this Plot, it wouldn’t have overshadowed mine and I wouldn’t have gotten Plot Brain and forgotten all about it so I could obsess over your unborn child! You’re just too selfish and have to make everything about you...

ROBERT: Self-serving from birth Vic! #StillBitter *Plays Air Guitar* *Likes Classic Rock, not just Taylor Swift and Cher* *Drunk Dances* - I can’t get no sat-is-fac-tion without Aaron! -

VICTORIA: *Leaves*

ROBERT: *Great now I’m alone again Face* #AreWeBackTogetherYet *Sees World’s Best Husband Mug* Nope. We’re not back together yet. And this mug was supposed to be for me. Thanks for that bit of irony Plot! Actually, you know what? This is what I think of your irony! *Smashes the mug against the wall* And I’m not even gonna clean it up! Instead, I’m going to go up the Spiral Staircase of Doom! I’ve shown I can walk down it by myself, but going up is a different story. I’ve only done that with Aaron and since Aaron isn’t here…. *Slips on a step* *Ryan’s stunt double takes a great fall* (RYAN: *Massive grin* Thanks stunt double! My dodgy knee totally would not have been able to handle that!) *Foot gets stuck* *Writhes on the floor yelling with the tummy showing* (FANDOM: You know...if we ignore the context and pretend Aaron is just out of frame…and Robert is getting his ‘satisfaction’ … #LeaveUsToOurDelusions)

[Outside the Mill with Victoria and Charity]

VICTORIA: Why are you not at the pub?

CHARITY: Because I’m finally going to get those Plot Keys from your pathetic brother!

VICTORIA: And Plot Keys are more important than running your actual business?

*Robert yells in his Plot Voice*

CHARITY: Shush!

VICTORIA: Don’t shush me!

CHARITY: No, really, listen. I think I hear the Plot?

*Robert yells again in his Plot Voice*

[The Mill of Misery with Robert, Victoria, Charity and the Spiral Staircase from Hell]

ROBERT: *Extra Mode Activated* Help me! I’m dying! My leg is caught and I’ll never be free!

VICTORIA: *Goes to help*

CHARITY: *Laughs her head off*

ROBERT: It’s not funny! Aaron will never want me like this!

CHARITY: Oh Robert it is! You’re the comedy relief in this episode okay. Rhona’s trial is really tough on the audience and they needed something to laugh at and you’re it babe! How did this even happen?

ROBERT: I slipped! Obviously! And now my foot is stuck and my life is over…

VICTORIA: I think if I just move it like… *Rips foot out*

ROBERT: AHHHHHHH *Extra Extra Mode Activated* *Leans against radiator* (FANDOM: Remember that time…) YOU’VE BROKEN MY ANKLE! THIS IS THE WORST INJURY EVER! I’M OBVIOUSLY DYING! HOW COULD YOU HAVE DONE THIS TO ME!!!

VICTORIA: Well, at least it’s out now...thanks to me. I have served my Plotly duty! Now I’m just going to laugh at your misfortune. You did tell Diane you wanted a comedy Plot.

CHARITY: Yeah, your life is hardly over. There’s not even any bone gruesomely sticking out! The fans were hoping you’d be on death’s door when they first heard about this! I hope they’re not disappointed. (FANDOM: We got to see his stomach...we’re good...and easily pleased. We have to be at this point. #LowExpectations)

ROBERT: *Extra Extra Mode Still Activated* IT REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY HURTS!!!

VICTORIA AND CHARITY: *Laughing*

ROBERT: STOP LAUGHING AT ME!!! - It’s one thing for the fans to laugh. I want them to be as happy as they can be with all of this but - SHUT UP YOU SHRIEKING MONKEYS!!! - Speaking of monkeys...remember how there’s that sculpture of me as monkey on the shelf over there? They wouldn’t have bothered with that if they weren’t going to fix this eventually right? - #AreWeBackTogetherYet

CHARITY: Oh hey, look! It’s my Plot keys. Now I get why I needed to come here to get them. I needed to have this laugh. Thanks for the entertainment Robert!

ROBERT: GET OUT!

VICTORIA: *Mocks his poorly ankle*

ROBERT: GET OUT AND LET ME WALLOW IN MISERY AND PAIN! Actually...Charity...hang on…

CHARITY: No.

ROBERT: But...did you see my #BeautifulNotHusband Aaron...cause in case you didn’t hear when I was shouting it in the pub earlier, he’s everything to me and I need constant updates on his existence...it’s vital to my very soul…

CHARITY: Yeah...not gonna tell you. I will tell everyone about this though...probably including Aaron. If you’re really lucky, maybe Maxine will slip a callback about it into a future episode when you’re back together...kind of like the tree. *Leaves*

ROBERT: *I hope so Face* #AreWeBackTogetherYet #ThisPlotIsTheWorst

[The Mill of Misery with Robert and Rebecca]

ROBERT: *Hobbles*

REBECCA: *Arrives showing off her mini skirt and fucking heels* #ThisIsNotAMaternityWardrobe #LetTheTheoryLive #StopMakingItSoEasy

ROBERT: *Oh great Face* Did Vic send you to gloat?

REBECCA: No, I sent myself because I totally have agency and make my own decisions all the time. I also wanted to tell you that you’re a selfish asshole.

ROBERT: Right...cheers for that. Never heard that one before.

REBECCA: I’ve taken my fair share of the blame for what we did Robert–

ROBERT: Really? Was I in that episode? Because I don’t remember that at all. (FANDOM: Neither do we!)

REBECCA: Yeah, well it’s this new thing I’m trying. The Plot thought it could just slip it in there and everyone would just think that I’ve been saying it all along.

ROBERT: The fans are not fooled by your ever changing personality.

REBECCA: Look, I’m like a sample platter, something for everyone. Eventually, I hope the Plot will make a decision. Though if the Plot is anything like me, stand by for my next twenty personality transplants. But anyway, back to my tirade. You were there for the Incident too! You’ve cheated on every person you’ve ever been with. Aaron was supposed to be your exception until the Plot got greedy. Chrissie and I didn’t ruin your life Robert, your past character history did! If anything, you ruined our lives. I mean, definitely Chrissie’s, that one is totally valid.

ROBERT: *I’m in lots of pain mostly due to my broken heart but also my leg Face*

REBECCA: What? What is this? And no, I’m not talking about my acting, I’m talking about your leg…

ROBERT: I think I broke my ankle. It’s literally the worst injury in the world.

REBECCA: Well, the Plot brought me here for a reason so it must be to take you to the hospital.

ROBERT: Are you not going to help me?

REBECCA: I’m done being your crutch Robert. See look, you’re drunk and sad and I’m not sleeping with you. I hope that means #CharacterGrowth Anyway, here’s an umbrella to use. You can pretend you’re a Kingsman.

ROBERT: *Catches Umbrella* I do like pretending to be a spy.

[The Mill of Misery with Robert and Rebecca]

ROBERT: *Hobbles in on a crutch* (RYAN: This is actually the one from my knee surgery. They just kept it around for this)

REBECCA: Your home is gross so I’m going to go now. Good luck with your slightly twisted ankle. I’m so glad we didn’t see a medical professional on screen. That would have looked really bad if we had seen one for your stupid ankle when we’ve never seen one for my pregnancy Plot.

ROBERT: *Cries* (RYAN: Okay, I did the whole pinching the bridge of my nose thing like Danny and I made a snuffling noise. I’m trying…)

REBECCA: *Oh I see, the Plot wants me to have sympathy for you Face* - that’s certainly a change, just like my personality -

REBECCA: *Gets Robert a glass of water like she should have done that night* *Sets it down on top of a book with ‘Shame’ in the title*

ROBERT: I wasn’t expecting you to try and sober me up. Didn’t think that was your MO.

REBECCA: Sample platter remember. My personality is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get. Besides, now I get to watch you be in pain. If I really were a #BlackWidow this would be my jam!

ROBERT: Well since you’re not a #BlackWidow yet, let me apologize for everything the Plot has had me do to you, whether it was in character or not. Neither one of us wanted this Plot and I’m sorry I’ve been vile to you, like Vic said when she and the Plot set this apology in motion earlier. So...I’m really sorry...probably...I heard somethings about potential revenge in the future, but you didn’t hear that.

REBECCA: Obviously. Anyway, I knew this apology was coming. That’s why I took you to the hospital and back. #AnythingForThePlot

ROBERT: I miss him (FANDOM: Whyyyyyy?! Are they back together yet?)

REBECCA: Obviously. You’re the loves of each other’s lives. The Plot has said so numerous times even if I’ve mostly ignored it.

ROBERT: For two minutes I had it all. Then he got sent to prison and this whole Hell Plot started.

REBECCA: You’re lucky, I never even had two minutes. - Take of that what you will. I’m sure the Tinfoil Fandom is having fun with that one. - (TINFOIL FANDOM: Two minutes until Robert passed out and you didn’t have sex after all and this baby is not happening or not Robert’s? #LetTheTheoryLive) Why would the Plot have you move back in here just so you can move out again next week?

ROBERT: So I could have this breakdown and say all of these quotable lines and make my fans happy. I miss being near him. I thought moving back in here would help me be nearer but it hasn’t. It just feels empty, sort of like sex with you. Now I feel empty...because as I said, Aaron is everything. He’s my whole life.

REBECCA: This Plot is messed up.

ROBERT: Yeah...it is. But thanks...for being a mate.

REBECCA: Who said we were mates? The fans still really don’t want it. But yeah...we should have stayed just mates instead of sleeping together. #ThisPlotIsTheWorst