#even going as far as making influence jokes in the text and end notes

[talietikasero]

how far into an idea was i to come up with an entire character arc and an almost full move list that combines original moves and those from the games

[pshbites]

LOVE ON AiR: 16. YAP CENTRAL EP.136: did social media ruin relationships?

WARNiNGS » profanity, mentions of d wording, sexual jokes, crying, ynhoon teasing, yn never being safe

wc: 3.1k

episode desc - enjoy your stay today in yap central! as we’ve done the whole cycle, todays episode is a deeper one! we open up with a positive impact we’ve seen on each other. then we go right in with how our presence on social media has affected our relationships. following that up we keep the theme of the deeper episode and go over the influence social media has on us and how we view ourselves. we end the episode off by saying one thing we’ve noticed about one another as we’ve grown and how we think it affects the friendship. the episode ends off on a bittersweet note but we hope you enjoyed your stay today in yap central!

*the 6 of you are seated in your assigned seats. jungwon adjusts the soundboard and riki tests the mic out, then giving him a thumbs up. sunoo sets his mic up a little closer to pick up his audio and looks to the camera, setting his phone down*

sunoo: it’s been so long since we sat in here

giselle: i know like two weeks right?

yn: i think almost three *you say, adjusting your outfit as well as your seating position. riki scoots over so you have more room.*

jungwon: i mean it counts as like a summer break since we didn’t really take one.

kat: good point. you know guys do you guys remember those um fuck what were they called

riki: it would help if you gave a description

kat: shut up im thinking

*the rest of you stare at kat in silence until jungwon breaks the silence to laugh, the rest of you following suit*

jungwon: im sorry it’s just what could it be that has you thinking that long

giselle: she’s using everything in that little brain come on now!

*giselles comment makes the rest of you laugh even harder, kat laughing as well*

kat: i can’t even think of it nevermind

yn: it’s okay babe you’ll find it later.

riki: i have to say these costumes are amazing actually. might be my favorite theme

giselle: you know riki you’ve been hating a lot less recently.

jungwon: i was gonna say that too, he’s a bit nicer

riki: what can i say, finally holding my deal for the new year’s resolution

yn: watch now that we said this he’s gonna be doing some fucked up shit by the time the episode comes out

*a text box pops up on the screen saying “he in fact did do some fucked up shit during the editing process of the episode - jungwon” then disappears after a couple seconds.*

riki: you have no faith in me

yn: simply stating the facts

jungwon: you guys ready for me to sign in?

kat: go for it man *she nods at jungwon who smiles back. jungwon adjusts himself and looks to the camera*

jungwon: beep beep! you’ve arrived in yap central i am your host today, jungwon or aang. starting from my far left we have.

kat: toph

riki: zuko

yn: katara!

giselle: azula

sunoo: appa!! *he shows off his fuzzy appa bucket hat, earning a smile from all of you*

yn: sunoo i love you please don’t die

*sunoo looks at you in horror as the others burst out laughing*

jungwon: anyways.. *nervous laugh* the cycle is complete so today is a deep episode!

giselle: oh my god last time i literally bawled on my way home

kat: won you always pick the most brutal questions

sunoo: i cannot believe you asked us if the younger versions of ourselves would like the us now. like that is so ugh

riki: look at the way he’s smiling i think it’s something torturing again

*jungwon grins evilly at everyone making the rest of you groan in both discomfort and agony.*

jungwon: starting with my first question! what is a positive impact you have noticed on each of us. let’s start with sunoo. you guys don’t have to go one at a time just build it up.

sunoo: okay well.. lay it on me. *he looks to the rest of you, nervously, then shocked at who speaks up first*

riki: you laugh a lot more

*giselles eyes widened as riki spoke, the rest of you sharing the same reaction. everyone stayed quiet so riki could talk.*

riki: like when we were in highschool you always seemed to be bothered, or like you just never really were happy. and i think when we started doing this and you started tiktok you’ve been a lot happier

yn: i was honestly gonna say the same thing. you seem happier when we go out sunoo, like you want to be there.

sunoo: i feel a lot happier, honestly it sounds stupid but doing this with you guys does make me really happy.

kat: i agree. i mean i really wouldn’t trade it for anything.

giselle: awww look at us having our moment!

*both you and sunoo giggle at giselles comment, jungwon nodding to giselle, signaling she’s next*

kat: giselle, you don’t really care what people have to say about you anymore.

jungwon: ahhhh i was gonna say that

kat: like you seem so much more confident now than you did before.

giselle: when though? because i feel like i just started feeling like this overnight.

yn: if i were to pinpoint a time frame id say when you broke up with [BLEEP]

sunoo: no i COMPLETELY agree, like there’s a brightness to you now.

giselle: aw thank you guys *she pouted then smiled*

jungwon: guys please be nice to me.

riki: you’ve always been a natural born leader. i just think you’ve always been positive.

yn: i agree but there’s like a glow to him now

kat: oh my god are you pregnant?

*everyone looks at kat then bursts out laughing. some of you stop but jungwon and giselle can’t stop laughing.*

sunoo: oh my god it has something to do with who gave you that bracelet

jungwon: sunoo seriously *his cheeks turn pink, hand now covering the friendship bracelet*

giselle: oooo who made it for you?

jungwon: it was a mutual swap

yn: mutual swap.. or she gave you that wap?

*the others start laughing again, jungwon as well. riki daps you up*

riki: that was a bar

jungwon: i’m not admitting anything.. on camera.

everyone: OOOOOOOO

jungwon: next! go flame yn!!

yn: not fair, we weren’t even done with you

jungwon: don’t care, you’re not as closed off as you used to be

riki: oh my god yeah, when we were kids you were so shy

yn: really? i feel like im still in my little shell

kat: no i get what they mean. i mean even when i met you, you were really shy.

yn: thank you?

riki: i think jungwon means it in the way that you’re more open to meeting others now. like you enjoy being a people person

yn: ahhh, i see now. i guess the podcast really helped with that. like seeing people say how they enjoy my little bits and just things like that. it sounds conceited but it almost made me feel like people actually valued me? you know.

giselle: i get it, it doesn’t sound conceited babe

yn: okay i don’t like this much attention

giselle: this sounds weird to say but riki has gotten nicer atleast to us

kat: yeah i see

riki: die

sunoo: glad to know you haven’t changed..

jungwon: guess someone doesn’t wanna open up today

riki: oh would you look at that! it’s kats turn!!

yn: i think kats tells us a lot more now. like before you never really told us anything about yourself.

kat: i just have trust issues, it was nothing personal.

giselle: it’s true it took her so long to open up to me

riki: i honestly think the podcast brought out the best in us. surprisingly enough

jungwon: i see what you mean. maybe another way to put it is that we realized how much closer the camera brought us

giselle: or this friendship is just a ploy for jungwon to make more money off of us

*everyone laughs*

sunoo: we’re such coworkers

yn: heard it here first!! giselle hates her friends

giselle: can you stop with that *laughs*

yn: oh i’ll drag it through the mud

giselle: then i’ll drag yn[BLEEP] through the mud

*everyone laughs even harder now, you side eyeing giselle.*

sunoo: she kinda got you there

yn: let’s move on?

jungwon: speaking of relationships. *you glare jungwon down as he chuckles a little, looking at his phone once more.* how do you guys think social media affected your relationships and how do you think social media just influences how you view yourself. you can answer it in any order.

sunoo: i feel like having a presence on social media just makes having a relationship so much harder.

giselle: it kinda does, like people just expect for you to lay out your entire lives on social media.

jungwon: i think it depends on what kind of person you’re with, it’s almost like that person has to be up to your fans standards you know.

yn: i think there’s some people who can be normal about it but at the same time you have to be okay with everyone knowing everything about you.

kat: yeah but then it just shows that people online think that we don’t deserve privacy. it’s fucked up like they’re borderline stalking us you know?

*riki glanced at you as kat spoke, noticing how you stiffened at the word stalking*

riki: a lot of people aren’t okay online, it’s weird. like being so obsessed with someone to the point of finding out their personal information

giselle: if that ever happened to any of us i really don’t know what i would do.

jungwon: i think i honestly would try to sue you know. you have to be a certain level of fucked to do something like that.

yn: yeah, i agree it’s so weird.

kat: i kinda don’t wanna sound like a pick me

riki: just say it, you won’t sound like one.

kat: it’s so much harder being a girl with a social media presence.

sunoo: the fact that you had to hesitate to even say that says everything

jungwon: i really don’t get it either, like i’ve seen both women and men do the same things online and sometimes the guy is worse than the girl and yet it’s always the girl getting attacked and harassed.

giselle: i think it’s because people just view girls as easy targets almost. like a girl could do something completely normal and the internet would spin it to make her a villain

yn: it’s disgusting really, no one really ever really wants to side with a girl.

jungwon: do the comments still get you guys? i mean i know it was really bad in the beginning

kat: actually no i remember when it got bad. it got bad that episode where [BLEEP]

*jungwon and giselle glance at each other then start laughing*

giselle: remind me to edit that out.

yn: honestly no, the comments don’t bother as much anymore. after a while i realized that they’re just saying this because they have nothing else to talk about so i just stopped looking.

kat: i agree, it gets better when you just stop reading the comments all together.

riki: god please take periods away from women and give it all to me.

*you and kat give riki a look then burst out laughing, sunoo jungwon and giselle following that.*

sunoo: can’t stay serious for a second

riki: i would never joke about women in pain

*jungwon and kat keep laughing as riki goes on, unable to take him seriously*

yn: going back to the original question i just think it’s hard, like seeing people overstep a boundary or intrude on your life and just be okay with it

sunoo: and people just say oh well you asked for this um? no i didn’t actually i just wanted post skincare videos

*jungwon snorts, causing a chain reaction for everyone else to laugh*

kat: im glad we haven’t cried in this episode yet.

giselle: oh my god don’t jinx it he still has two more questions

jungwon: you might cry at this next one *kat sends a look to jungwon and he gives her an evil smile* my next question is what changes have we seen in one another as we’ve grown up together. it can be good or bad.

riki: jungwons lost it this is so similar to the first question

yn: i feel like he means overall

jungwon: thank you! atleast someon listens to me

yn: *you look around shocked and confused* oh my god.. did you guys hear that? was that a ghost?

*jungwon stares at you as everyone else laughs at your joke*

sunoo: so are we gonna go around in a circle?

jungwon: no how about.. the person sitting across from you. like riki sits across from giselle so they can say it about each other

kat: wait i wanna start

sunoo: this is too much pressure

kat: *she stares at sunoo and smiles warmly* sunoo i admire your love for us. like i don’t know you always support all of us no matter what and i feel like as we’ve grown closer you just have so much love to give

giselle: that’s so adorable

riki: sunoo i love your videos please don’t die

sunoo: STOP WITH THAT JOKE *he turns to look at kat* thank you kat i love you. i have to say sometimes i feel like you don’t tell us everything but it’s okay, just because we’re your friends doesn’t mean we have to know everything about you. i just want you to know that we’ll always listen no matter what.

*kat stares at sunoo as he smiles at her, then looks down when she feels tears welling up in her eyes. riki looks at giselle and jungwon panicked as they pass him the box of tissues.*

yn: aw babe *you frown looking at her as she lifts her head up to see tears streaming down her cheeks*

sunoo: wait i didn’t mean to make you cry

kat: it’s okay i jinxed myself

*everyone laughs slightly, still worried about her. sunoo moves his mic and gets up to hug kat. they stay like that for a few seconds until he lets go, patting her head. he says something but the mic can’t pick it up then walks back to his seat.*

kat: it’s not that i don’t want there was just a time where i felt like no one really care you know?

jungwon: you’re not obligated to tell us everything, but we care more than you think even if we have weird ways of showing it. *he glares at riki who only throws his hands up*

*the rest of you laugh at riki’s reaction and even kat lets out a chuckle after wiping her tears*

kat: to the viewers watching.. this never happened i am mysterious and batman doesn’t cry

giselle: nurse.. she’s out again

riki: okay giselle! lay it on me! *claps his hands together*

giselle: you use being mean as a cover up you actually care a lot about what people think but you use being rude or mean as a shield.

*sunoo gasps, the rest of you stare in silence because giselle is 100% right*

riki: okay cut the cameras

jungwon: i mean she’s not wrong

riki: if you wanted me to cry it’s not gonna happen

giselle: i know

riki: i hate you guys

sunoo: yeah sure you do

riki: well, since you want a taste of your own medicine *riki clears his throat* you shouldn’t get into another relationship, atleast until you evaluate how you act during them.

giselle: excuse me?

jungwon: weird ass time to admit your feelings

riki: you’re a weirdo that’s not how i meant it

yn: well then how did you mean it

kat: i’m curious

riki: every time i've seen you get into a relationship you just stop acting like yourself. you’re less confident and it’s almost as if you change yourself to please the guy you’re with. I just don’t like seeing any of my friends like that.

*all of you stare in silence at giselle, the air feeling heavy as she pushes her mic away and mumbles something to jungwon then ups and leaves.*

yn: um. is she okay?

jungwon: she needs a second

riki: was it something i said?

jungwon: it’ll be okay, she just said she needs a second.

sunoo: she’ll be okay guys, let’s move on yeah?

yn: okay well.. jungwon i think you bottle a lot of things up, intentional or not.

jungwon: *he sighs, crossing his arms* it’s not intentional i just think you guys have too many worries on your own plates to worry about mine.

kat: even if we have a lot going on that’ll never stop us from wanting to know what’s going on won

jungwon: i know i guess it’s just hard? to admit i need help?

sunoo: there’s never anything wrong with that

jungwon: thanks guys

riki: yeah yeah

jungwon: okay yn, im glad you like yourself more

kat: um

riki: wow!

sunoo: that is certainly a statement

yn: excuse me??

jungwon: no i worded that terribly

*the 5 of you burst out laughing at jungwons poor word choice. within this time giselle walks back in, closing the door slightly. the mics can’t pick it up but riki mouths “im sorry” to her. causing her to shake her head and smile. “it’s good” she mouths back making him smile back.*

jungwon: what i mean to say is that you’re more confident now. not just about yourself but your videos too. i’m glad to see this change in you

yn: thank you won, it means a lot

jungwon: of course

giselle: well this was certainly an episode

yn: one of us always ends up crying

sunoo: that sadist probably likes it too

jungwon: woah? the term isn’t sadist

*the rest of you laugh*

sunoo: let’s have a group hug! everyone up on your feet

*sunoo stands up, kat and giselle following suit. you and jungwon stand up and riki groans, then reluctantly stands up. the 6 of you huddle around one another and go for a group hug. the mics can’t pick up your voices but the recording has slight shuffling and giggles from you 6. after a couple seconds you pull apart and sit back down in your respective seats.*

giselle: i love you guys

kat: me too

sunoo: me three

jungwon: me four

yn: me five

*everyone looks at riki who only rolls his eyes*

riki: me six..

jungwon: well guys hope you enjoyed your stay in yap central we hope you didn’t cry too much. i have been your host jungwon and please make sure to check out our links in this description and like, share, subscribe, and comment! till next time!!

previous masterlist next

AUTHORS NOTE » lol UMMMMMMM sorry guys i didnt realize how long it had been without an update WE ARE SO BACK THO

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[shoezuki]

ok it seems dream has slowed down or went to cry himself to sleep or something idk but now im gonna try n chronicle this shit as unbiasedly as i can. but whoooooa baby

anyways. it started when Nicolas Cantu (yes yes junkyjanker gumball voice actor) was replying to the dream parody account, dreamwastalen.

(also yes he knew it was a parody acct dude said he was roleplaying lmao)

Dream qrted the 'you can't joke when u an actual pedophile' tweet essentially saying that cantu is a horrible person, accusing him of assaulting dream, treating an uber driver horribly, and that he was saying the r word and being racist. Also says cantu apologized to dream on twitter by blaming it on alcohol and weed.

nicolas qrts, saying 'yes i slapboxed you in front of the hoes', confirming he mistreated an uber driver and said he tipped the driver well after and has been handling his drinking, says he called dream 'fat and a predator'. Nicolas denies being racist. He ends it with "hire a harvard professor to calculate why despite texting every twitch streamer in austin not a single one wanted to fuck you."

also in a qrt to a now private account that basically said 'dream reaching out to streamers doesnt mean he wanted to fuck them' nicolas said dream was sending streamers dick pics.

dream replies saying that nicolas didnt even tip and with screenshots of the dms nicolas had sent him apologizing. The dm is a massive text of paragraph . In an attempt to summarize it is essentially cantu apologizing for hitting dream n that he was out of line, mentioning he was drinking and high, that he thought dream would be an asshole but says he is 'humble, grounded and decent', that he relates to the pressure/discourse around having to deal w fame and havin a lot of influence at a young age, and also that he doesnt know who is and isnt lying w the allegations but he knows having lies n rumours spread bout u sucks.

worth noting im not sure when this message took place so I cant say if its extremely recent, but later dream i believe mentions it having to do with the latest twitchcon. idk [edit: looking ahead robbo mentioned this happened months ago]

Another contender, robbo, comes in saying he was there and that dream was slapped for calling a girl they are friends with a whore. They technically recant this accusation, saying they mixed the cantu slap up with another event that took place at twitchcon, but they continue to claim dream did this.

dream qrts this saying robbo 'wasnt even in the same state' at the time, that he doesnt know who robbo is, that he doesnt go around harassing women and accuses robbo of upholding the benevolent sexism trope of women being weak and needing to be protected by men.

Nicolas cantu makes a reappearance and screenshots dreams reply and tweeting it, then qrting his own tweet with a video of classical music and showing a text allegedly from dream (the name 'clay' at the top of the screenshot) saying 'tsk tsk whore' to someone. The video also has a clip from when dream was in mcc with captainsparklez and said 'we should lynch them' in reference to i think ppl allegedly cheating?.

thats the most of it so far. although robbo and dream continued to argue and at one point dream said he was going to sue them for slander/defamation and robbo qrted with 'sue me.' theres more to that bit but im not puttin screenshots this shit is already too long

anyways. my final opinion: i literally odnt know like half what happening here or if nicolas cantu really was racist or if that screenshot was 'real' and cantu said he wouldnt reveal who the friend dream called a whore is cuz he dont want to pull her into this. so im like what. but dream gettin clapped by nicolas is fucking hilarious and dream pullin the suing thing again is wild. i seen ppl in qrts saying how he already said he was gonna sue amanda and didnt, sayin he instantly pulled the dms w cantu but wont show the evidence showin amanda lied, etc. and those r a lot of what i think a this like. i feel he got angry and exploded again when eh coulda let it die out. but that always happens

[chameleonspell]

HTDC commentary - 4: falling

[Looking back at HTDC after nearly ten years: comments on lore, character notes, influences, art, whatever. May contain spoilers for later chapters.]

chapter text: 4: falling

These early chapters tend to be short and jump forward in time lot, because I was just skipping to the next turning point, and Iriel isn't spending enough time with other people for there to be much interesting going on between. Especially now, because he's gonna be unconscious for a lot of it.

Much later, certain people would gravely refer to this period of Iriel’s life as one during which he “lost himself”

I had no idea who was supposed to have told Iriel this, later, and I still can't think who would be a plausible candidate. I said this purely for rhetorical effect. I feel like this makes me an unreliable narrator of my own story, though I'm not sure that's technically possible.

His conscious mind, cast adrift on an overwhelming ocean of sensation, became reduced to scattered thoughts and isolated impressions.

Seems like Ire was tripping on nature, before he was even tripping on sugar. I probably should have been less dreamily effusive, here, and saved it for the on-drugs bit, but I just really love the Bitter Cost! You don't need drugs to appreciate the Swamp! Despite the apparent similarities of the Pit being Iriel's shame and depression, Iriel being in the swamp was never at all the same metaphor, though it took until chapter 153 for me to really explicate this properly. Being in the swamp is mostly positive, if soggy. The swamp is comforting and accepting. The swamp doesn't judge.

The spongey texture of the luminous mushrooms he collected obsessively, and the ssschlucking sound they made when he yanked them out of the damp soil to lay them out in order of size and colour on the moss.

I got really into mushrooms (as organism, not drug!) after I wrote Iriel an obsession with them. Be very careful what interests you give fictional characters, because if you identify with them too hard, it's very easy to catch it off them.

All Ire knew was that he had found two small cloth bags of crystalline white powder underneath a crate on a small jetty, and that when he put a finger in and licked it, everything got better.

The story started with a concept and a shape, but no detail - that mostly came out of gameplay, at the start. The moon sugar was a happy accident, finding the bags in a random smuggler loot sack, and realising...  why wouldn't he?

Moon sugar is described as a numbing and euphoria-inducing drug, similar to an opiate. It's also the soft option, compared to its more refined form, skooma, so Iriel's still in the narcotics kiddie-pool, really. That said, we also know these drugs affect TES races differently, with men and mer being affected far more strongly than Khajiit. And we know that Altmer specifically are more sensitive to magic (for better and worse) than other races. Thus, Iriel is having quite an extreme reaction.

he found himself falling: into the glowing colours, into the soft, yielding swamp, and not caring, because when he spat mud and rolled over onto his back, he found himself falling into the sky.

The whole "sad elves falling in swamps" thing is, I admit, a private joke. Because someone once (somehow, unaccountably) found my website by googling for the string "sexy women falling in swamps", and when I saw it in the search referrals, I laughed about it for days.

The night skies of Morrowind are stunningly beautiful, viewed sober. Moon sugar rendered them a religious experience.

Morrowind skies being best skies is just facts. @valtheimm illustrated this scene beautifully:

If I say that he spent long hours lying in the mud, staring at the fractal patterns at the end of fern fronds, I’m sure you can fill in the rest for yourselves. Let’s skip to the end.

I guess I wasn't too consistent with the first person narration, but the narrator was there from the start! It just fell into the background, when other things were happening, or the scene didn't want that sort of external comment, only to re-emerge later, and make people question me about where it came from.

Who is the narrator? Me, just me, the author. Nothing complicated. I was used to books where that kind of thing is common, as a random interjection. I was reading a George Eliot book at the time, and she's always interrupting the action to discuss her characters in first person. It creates a sense of ironic distance, so you don't want to have it all the time, usually you want to be right there in the characters emotions. Other times, you want to add that distance, and deliberately get out of the character's head.

Here, we are watching Iriel flopping about the swamp from a distance, because he's out of his mind, so we are, too. We can go back closer when he returns to himself, try and feel the shock of that with him as much as we can.

Where he came from, the gods were not thought to actively involve themselves in the lives of their worshippers. This was part of what made them so admirable.

TES sets up a whole lot of metaphysical binaries, but the key one is Anu and Padomay, which for our purposes means stasis and change. This comes in a lot more later, but that bog body metaphor is already looking a bit prescient, innit? Here, we can just note that Iriel's home gods are the Aedra, which are Anuic, and therefore both unchanging and incapable of intervening or causing change themselves. Iriel thinks that in Morrowind, where other gods apply, things might be different.

Lying back down and dying was tempting, but Ire hadn’t survived this long by letting that part of his brain have its way.

Iriel is physically unimposing, cries easily and doesn't exactly tick many boxes on the socially-mandated "ideal masculinity" chart. He's scared of everything, because many things have hurt him, and life hasn't equipped him with many tools to defend himself. Does that make him "a weak person", as he himself believes? Or is he strong, for surviving, despite the odds stacked against him, for persisting regardless? What does it mean to be weak or strong, and is weakness even a bad thing? Questions I kept on coming back to, throughout the story.

Iriel is far from morally perfect, and sometimes does selfish things, especially while he's addicted to drugs. There wouldn't be much of a story, if he didn't make a total mess of his life, and have to try and clean it up. But he is strong, in lots of ways, and he will manage to be a hero, in lots of ways. Making him "an effeminate gay stereotype" was very deliberate. Because sure, that's a stereotype, but not for the hero. It's for villains and cheap-laugh side characters, where it gets laced with a lot of other homophobic tropes. Queer heroes, where they exist, tend to be indistinguishable from straight characters, beyond their sexuality - and that's nothing like the real people I know, it's nothing like me or my friends! Femme gay men exist, and are wonderful and diverse and incredibly powerful, actually.

Real-life queer people can't be stereotypes by definition, instead they have to constantly live with how their personal expression is interpreted and policed and refracted into cheap stereotypes by the dominant culture, stereotypes which are then used against them. I wanted to write a character going through that experience, that negotation of an imposed stereotype that has some truth to it, albeit in ways that the people using it against you don't understand. To be up-front about this: I'm queer, but I'm not a gay man, so I was always aware of the danger that I might misjudge something, and screw up. I tried to keep Iriel's specifically gay aspects as grounded as I could in non-fictional people I knew, or had read things by. In the case of real-life friends, I pray I changed enough details on any embarrassing anecdotes I stole that they can't recognise themselves here, and get mad at me.

Iriel set out in search of structure.

The moon sugar was extremely useful, narratively speaking. See, the wonderful thing about an addiction to hard drugs -- this sounds like I'm being facetious, but I've heard heroin addicts say exactly this -- is that it gives you something to do, when your life has no meaning. It forces action. You can't just lie face-down in the swamp forever. You have to go out, and get money, and get drugs. Which forces you, especially if the money part is challenging, into situations.

Playlist pick: Sparklehorse - Spirit Ditch. This is a song to lie in a swamp and get high to. By Mark Linkous, another junkie. Died by suicide in 2010. You always hope when someone writes songs that sad, that it means they have some kind of… answer. A different one, I mean.

next: 5: slide & 6: trap previous: 3: breathe

[ariapmdeol]

I'm curious about Cell of Empireo.

What do you like about it and is there a way to play it in English myself?

there isn't an official English translation, but we've been given permission for a translation on YouTube here! (start from chapter 1). It goes through all 6 endings of the base game, plus bonus content and game overs, and the first 5 parts of the DLC so far! It is what i recommend for experiencing COE as it has an actual person behind the translation ^_^

There is a way to play with machine translation, but the tutorial is kinda long so i'll put it under the cut <3 machine translation is kinda scuffed though (it struggles with pronouns especially, and doesn't translate the inventory or anything outside of a text box due to the text extraction method ussed)

THINGS I LIKE ABOUT THIS GAME: A LOT.

the character writing is REALLY good-- everyone has their own motivations and histories, and the foreshadowing is ACTUALLY insane. like i am not joking when there is a ton of foreshadowing in the FIRST CHAPTER.

the game has eiji shinano in it <3 my silly little guy <3

99% of the characters are adults! they have jobs and actual canonical birthdays and everything! our protagonist is a 28 year old detective (Haruki Atou), and he's clever and smart and it's so nice!! Atou is such a great protagonist, i love him a lot <3 he's very much his own character with his own identity!

are you a fan of mad scientists? are you a fan of FLIRTY mad scientists? play this game for Kanou Aogu <3

the worldbuilding is REALLY REALLY REALLY SOLID. like-- the magic has RULES to it and it makes SENSE and it makes it really fun to put the pieces together!!! you could deadass put together an ACTUAL TIMELINE of IN GAME EVENTS going back from when the game takes place (2015) to like. 1972 and EARLIER.

the sprites move!! during conversations and cutscenes they move and look at each other and strike silly poses or WINK (kanou <3) and it's great, there's also foreshadowing there too!

the butterfly effect for the different endings is ACTUALLY SO COOL! It's really fascinating to watch how certain choices change so so much, even ones that you wouldn't expect!

this game has a lot of references and influences from Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy!

there is a headless rat. it's looking this way...

there are so many old man babygirls in this game <3

seodore. thats it thats the reason

gay as hell to [redacted for spoiler reasons]

OUGGHGHGHGHG the amount of times this game emotionally devastated me <3

i am on my second watchthrough and i am still finding details and clues i didn't notice the first time,, things hit DIFFERENT when i know the context holy shit. I'm taking my sister and a few friends through the eng tl videos and voice acting stuff, and the amount of times i had to go very very quiet in order to not react to things they dont know are relevant yet,,, was a LOT. it hits DIFFERENT i am a simp for foreshadowing and cool details

this game is. actually kind of hard? like i'm playing it with the machine translation at the moment and holy shit no wonder the translator is constantly running around at like 4 hp.

PLAYING WITH MACHINE TRANSLATION/ PLAYING COE IN JAPANESE. Personally i recommend going through the videos bc machine translation is scuffed and it is VERY VERY HARD to get the best ending, but i will put the tutorial here regardless! this tutorial comes from the Cell of Empireo ENG fans discord server <3 Note that it does not translate text outside of text boxes (so CGs, flashes, the intro cutscene will not translate), and will not translate the inventory or maps (which is why i recommend the videos first)

Step 1. If your computer can't display Japanese characters, use one of the links below. https://learn.microsoft.com/en-us/answers/questions/308823/japanese-characters.htmlhttps://www.digitalcitizen.life/changing-display-language-used-non-unicode-programs/

Step 2. Download Locale Emulator using the link below. https://xupefei.github.io/Locale-Emulator/

Step 3. Download Cell of Empireo and RPG Maker 2003.

Cell of Empireo download: https://www.freem.ne.jp/win/game/17735

RPG Maker 2003 download: https://tkool.jp/products/rtp.html

Step 4. Download and set up Textractor. Setting up Textractor: https://youtu.be/SLGSHZdEurM Using Textractor with DeepL: https://desonovel.blogspot.com/2021/01/tutorial-using-textractor-with-deepl.html

note: the firefox extension/devtools that pasted the text into deepl are currently broken. You can still paste the text in yourself, or if you have access to the deepl API, that works as well!

Step 5. Run 細胞神曲-CoE-.exe using Locale Emulator and run Textractor.exe. Attach Textractor to the RPG_RT.EXE process and you can play.

[heavenlyhischier]

only when you're high - rafe cameron

word count: 4.3k

summary: Rafe only ever talks to you when he's high, and you've eventually had enough.

warnings: angst i guess, language, mentions of drugs and alcohol, lil makeout sesh at the end

note: ik this isn't the request but i've been working on this for a while so here ya go <3 this is def not my best writing so dont judge it too harshly

3:53 a.m.

You had been dreaming about your cat taking over a world full of people with fish heads when the incessant ringing from your phone jolted you awake. You blindly flung your hand onto the nightstand, knocking over a half empty water bottle and a bottle of ibuprofen before your fingers grazed the cool screen. You picked up the device, nearly blinding yourself when you opened your eyes to see who was calling you at such an ungodly hour. Once your eyes adjusted to the screen’s brightness, the name ‘Stupid Kook’ was displayed across the top. You hesitantly swiped to answer.

“What in the flying fuck do you want,” You whisper yelled, propping your half-conscious body up with your elbow.

“Hey, baby,” He greeted, his voice dragging as if he was thinking too hard about his words. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

You stopped breathing for a moment, not sure what you were supposed to say to his weird revelation. You had been having a weird thing with Rafe for a few months now. After many drinks, you would often finding yourself making out with him in a secluded area. Despite your random make out sessions, he had never once called you to simply hear your voice. In fact, he hadn’t even called you before. It was usually always a quick ‘wyd’ text at midnight and nothing more.

“That’s weird, you’ve never called me before,” You pointed out, “You’ve also never called me baby before, so what’s that about?”

“Mm, I don’t know. Always wanted to call you that before so why not? What are you up to, baby,” He asked, his words slurring together in a way that could only happen while under the influence.

“You’re high aren’t you,” You sighed. Of course, he was high. You should have known that from the get-go. Rafe Cameron wouldn’t have called you sober; he never even looked at you sober.

A brief silence hung over the line, Rafe’s heavy breathing being the only thing coming through the receiver. “Maybe a little. Had a rough day, so I went to see Barry and now I’m at Topper’s. Talking to you.”

You couldn’t help but let a small smile grace your features; a smile that was gone almost as soon as it came. You let your elbow fall from its position, your head falling back onto the pillow that was still warm from when you were asleep. “How sweet of you. What are you doing, anyways? Shouldn’t you be getting shitfaced and taking some innocent girl to bed?”

He let out an airy laugh before speaking. “The only one I’d like to take to bed is you, and we somehow always stop before it gets to that point. Anyways, it’s just me, Topper, and Kelce, and I started thinking about us in the back of my truck when we were outside. Before I knew what I was doing, you answered the phone.”

Your cheeks flared red as images of Rafe’s hands exploring your body flashed through your mind, the feeling of his ring on your skin igniting something inside of you. His mouth latching onto the sensitive spots of your neck as your moans filled his truck. You let your fingers ghost over your lips as if you could still feel his own on yours. More memories of him exploring your body in every way but the way you wanted him most were running through your mind. Every time you wanted to give in to him, give in to your urges, but you couldn’t.

“You know, I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you and I hate it,” He started, his words still slow, “I hate it because you’ll never let me have you.”

“Rafe,” You groaned, running a hand over your tired face, “I don’t really feel like giving myself to someone who only talks to me when they’re drunk or high. Someone who would rather be caught dead than with a pouge.”

“You know it’s not like that, baby. It’s complicated,” He tried, and you could tell there was a hint of unfamiliar panic in his voice.

“It always is. Guess I’ll see or talk to you next time you get fucked up. Goodnight Rafe,” You whispered before hanging up on the boy, ignoring his desperate protests.

1:38 a.m.

You turned the shower water off before stepping out onto the cool tiled floor, water dripping from every part of your body. You chose to ignore the buzzing coming from your phone, moving to grab the towel hung on the back of your bathroom door. However, the buzzing started again as you were drying off your legs.

“Who the fuck,” You groaned as you wrapped the towel around your still wet body. ‘Stupid Kook’ was making a second appearance, much to your surprise. “Yes, Rafe?”

“What’s up your ass,” He laughed his infectious laugh. You could picture him throwing his head back and his glazed over eyes twinkling with amusement, something you had only seen when you found yourself admiring him from afar.

“Nothings up my ass. Just don’t know what your high ass wants this time.” You gripped your phone in your hand and started to walk back towards your room. Your parents had fallen asleep hours ago, so you had to make sure you were quiet. However, that deemed difficult in the darkest hours of the night in your already poorly lit house. You bumped your hip and stubbed your toe on just about anything that was out in the open. Once you were in your room, you hastily shut the door and flipped the light switch on.

“Hello! Hello! Hello! Where are you,” Rafe yelled, making you wince and pull the phone away from your ear.

“Jesus, dude. Calm down, I was walking back to my room,” You chastised, doing your best to hold your phone in between your ear and shoulder.

“What were you doing? I missed you,” He pouted.

You ignored the swelling you got in your heart and said, “I was leaving the bathroom. I just finished showering. What are you doing?”

You grabbed a clean pair of underwear and a shirt you had taken from JJ after you had thrown up over whatever you were wearing that night. Rafe began telling you what he was doing, which was quite literally nothing. However, he quickly dove into a spout of how you were naked and wet and how badly he wanted to see you without any clothes on. Your cheeks were burning as he went on and on about all of the sinful things he wanted to do to you. You let him ramble on a bit more as you turned the light off once you were clothed and ready for bed.

“Okay, that’s enough, Rafe,” You stopped him, pulling your blanket back so you could crawl in bed. “So, calling me two times within a week? You falling in love with me?”

It was so painfully obvious that it was a joke, but you could practically feel the tension radiating through your phone from Rafe’s end. His abrupt silence concerned you because this boy was far from silent when he was doped out.

“Maybe I am,” He finally got out, and you couldn’t detect any sarcasm in it.

“Sure you are,” You rolled your eyes, blaming exhaustion for briefly clouding your judgment, “If you were in love with me, you’d actually talk to me when you aren’t too fucked to remember your own name.”

You started picking at a loose thread on your blanket as you let your mind wander to what life would be life if you had an actual relationship with Rafe. Going to parties with him. Hanging around the Island Club with him and his friends. Him doing lines off your body before having his way with you.

“I will talk to you when I’m not high,” His voice broke you from your thoughts, “If that’s what you really want.”

“I do,” You said way too quickly, “I mean, yeah sure. That would be nice, I guess.”

“Just text me and I’ll answer.” You couldn’t stifle the yawn that escaped your lips, but you did try and hide it from Rafe. Your attempt was no good, though. “You’re tired, go to bed.”

“No, I’m fi-.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Rafe shouted over you, “Talk to you soon, baby.”

Rafe’s name popped up on your phone screen every few days after he had gotten drunk out of his mind or too high to do anything other than find your contact. You didn’t mind it at first, but after you had texted him during the day and those messages went unanswered, you grew hurt and annoyed. You had tried asking him why he wouldn’t respond, but he always found a way to change the subject. You wanted to ask him about it in person, but you hadn’t seen him in almost a month. You wanted to ask him why he couldn’t bother to pick up the phone when he was sober, but wasted no time in calling you as soon as he got his bump in.

One of the nights he called, you offered to have him come over because your parents were gone, but he said no. Made up some excuse about how he was staying with Topper for a while since Sarah cheated on him and he wanted to be there for his friend. You understood that, so you didn’t push him after that. Then, the next time you told him about a party everyone was going to and how you wanted to see him there. You even told him to bring the other two. That time he told you he was staying away from parties for a while, wanting to stay to himself for the most part due to the constant stress from his dad. You knew how Ward could be sometimes, so it wasn’t hard to believe him and move on from there.

You wanted to be mad to him for only acknowledging you when he was high, but you couldn’t be. You’ve always wanted to feel wanted by somebody, and he made you feel like that albeit only when he was far gone from reality. You could deal with it as long as you got to talk to him, no matter how insecure it made you. Well, you thought you could.

2:25

Your parents were gone for the night, so you opted to watch Marvel movies in the living room. You were so invested in watching Iron Man and shoving popcorn in your mouth that you didn’t feel your phone go off the first six times. Or the fifteen times after that. Not that you would have cared either way. You knew the only person it could be was the boy who never wanted you sober. The credits began rolling across the TV, so you finally decided to pick up your discarded phone. You were shocked to see Rafe had called you eight times and texted you thirteen. Overall, his texts said the same thing.

Why aren’t u answering me :(

Call me pls

I wanna talk to you baby

It was if he knew you were finally looking at your phone because his contact popped up not ten seconds later. You rolled your eyes, but reluctantly answered.

“Y/N! Where have you been,” He whined into the receiver, “I’ve been trying to call you for like two hours.”

“Watching movies,” Your words were sharp and short, not particularly wanting to talk to him right now. You’ve nearly reached your breaking point with him.

Rafe could immediately tell something was off with you by the way you sounded. “What’s wrong, baby? Are you okay?”

You took a deep breath in, setting your bowl of popcorn on the coffee table after you paused the end credit scene. You leaned forwards and planted your elbow on your knee as you held your head in annoyance.

“I’m fine, Rafe. I’m just getting fed up with you only wanting to talk to me when you’re high or drunk,” You started, “I used to be fine with it because it once every couple of weeks, but now it’s almost every day and it’s annoying. You told me to text you when you’re sober, and I did, but you never responded. I try and offer to come over to you or have you come to me, but you always have an excuse. I know you want to be there for Topper and you don’t really want to be around anyone right now, but that doesn’t mean I have to put up with it.”

“Y/N, I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just-It’s complicated. Please understand that,” He was practically begging you to listen to him.

“Rafey, are you coming back to play beer pong with us,” A female voice suddenly cut through the sudden sound of music.

Your breathing stopped and your heart felt like it was being squeezed by Rafe’s own hand. A wave of heartbreak crashed over your entire body. “‘I just don’t want to be around anyone’ huh? Thought you were just spending time with Topper for a while? You know, if you didn’t want to see me, all you had to do was say so,” You whimpered, hurt now mixing with your anger and annoyance.

“No, wait,” He tried, yelling at whoever came in the room to get out, “Y/N, please. It isn’t lik-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. It is like that, Rafe. It is exactly like that. You don’t want to see me, and that is fine. I get it. Why would you ever want to be seen with someone from the Cut? It doesn’t matter, though. Don’t call me anymore. You lied to me. That is not something that I can forgive,” Your tears were too strong to hold back now, “I don’t care for liars, Rafe Cameron, and you’re the biggest one of all.”

You quickly hung up and turned off your phone, throwing it towards the end of the couch so you weren’t tempted to grab it. You grabbed the large blanket from the back of the couch, picked another movie, and let your tears fall as it played in front of you.

“Honey,” Your moms gentle voice broke through, “You fell asleep on the couch.”

You slowly opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the bright light shining through the giant window. The headache hit you like a ton of brinks, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut in pain. Your mom was hovering over you, her hand on your shoulder and her soft eyes pretending to not notice how puffy your cheeks and red your eyes are.

“I guess so,” You mumbled, pushing yourself up into a sitting position, “I’ll go lay down in my room. I’m still tired.”

She gave you an understanding nod with a caring smile and helped you off the couch. Her hand lingered on your back as if she wanted to say something to you, but she decided to leave it alone for now. You would talk to her when you were ready, if you ever were. You gave her a thumbs up when she told you her and your father would be out again most of the day.

Your feet dragged as you stumbled back to your room, using the wall to keep you steady. You pushed the door open with your foot and gave your cat, who was laying on your bed as if she owned it, a stupid smile. You fell onto the bed and pulled her onto your chest as you turned your phone back on. You were scared to confront the actions from last night, but knowing Rafe, he probably wouldn’t have bothered to even send you a text about it. You were quickly proven wrong the moment your phone turned back on. The vibration from all of the texts, voicemails, and snapchats felt like it lasted for five straight minutes. Nearly all were from the boy you wanted nothing to do with. Although, you noticed a voicemail from Topper, who you forgot even had your number.

Um, hey its Topper. Look dude, I don’t know what happened, but Rafe is freaking out like a bitch right now. He keeps mumbling shit about how he fucked things up with, which I didn’t even know you two were a thing but whatever I don’t really care. He kicked everyone out of my house and has been calling and texting you for like thirty minutes straight now so please call him back, so he shuts the fuck up. If not for him, do it for my sanity before I kill him. Uh, yeah, thanks, bye.

You sighed deeply after the voicemail cut off, your heart rate increasing at the thought of Rafe being upset. If he was bad enough that Topper of all people called you, you knew it was bad. You wanted to not care because of how he made you feel, but you did. You’ve always cared about the blond boy more than you cared to admit. You finally decided to look at the messages he sent you.

Y/N pls call me back

I’m sorry its not what it looks like and I know that sounds stupid but its true

Pls talk to me. I need u to talk to me

I promise that I never wanted to hurt u ok???

I love you, Y/N. Please call me or I’m coming to your house tomorrow.

The world stopped spinning when you read the last message. You kept reading it over and over again as if you misread it the first time. Rafe had never been any kind of affectionate with you until he called you baby. Rafe Cameron was not someone known to get emotional, so you weren’t sure if you believed his words. He was a liar and would do anything to get what he wanted, so what was different now?

You heard a knock on the door followed by your moms muffled voice, but you were too focused on the situation in front of you to notice who it was. Your eyes were glued to the screen, staring at the three words you never thought anyone other than your family and friends would say to you. The world around you was fading away, your heart feeling as if it was going to beat out of your chest as tears slid down your still puffy cheeks. You weren’t going to let him do this to you. You weren’t going to let him toy with you anymore.

“Y/N,” A deep voice dragged you out of your subconscious.

Your eyes darted over to the door and saw the last person you wanted to see. Rafe was standing there, his eyes wide and blood shot and he looked like total shit. His hair was a wild mess, nothing like its usual tamed state. You met his gaze and you wished you hadn’t. One look from him and you were puddy in his hands. One look and every thought you had about never seeing him again flew out the window.

“Hey, can we talk,” He mumbled, his bright blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Please.”

Not trusting your words, you gave him a swift nod and gestured to the spot next to you on your bed. You leaned to the side and placed your cat on the ground, watching as she rubbed herself all over Rafe’s leg before scampering away. His walk to your bed was painfully slow, and you wanted to tell him to hurry up, but you knew that was unreasonable.

“What do you want, Rafe,” Your voice was harsh, trying to ignore the urge to reach out to him. “What do you want to talk about? How you only use me for your own pleasure? How you only ever even look at me when you’re drunk or high? How you lied to me? Wanna talk about that?”

Your anger surprised even yourself. One second you wanted to hold him in your arms and comfort him, but then the memory of how he treated you came back and flipped a switch in your brain. You don’t know how you feel and you hate it.

“I deserve every bit of your anger,” He breathed out, letting his hand fall dangerously close to your own, “But please let me explain everything to you, okay?”

“Fine,” You gave in, “Talk.”

“Yeah, thank you, okay. I really do want to talk to you when I’m not absolutely fucked, I do. I know that it doesn’t seem like that, but its true. I just, I can’t. Every time I look at you, think about you, I hear my dads voice screaming at me that I will never be good enough for anyone. I have this thought drilled into my head every day that no matter what I do, who I am, I am just never enough. To me, you’re no exception to that. In fact, you remind me even more. Wait no.”

Rafe rubbed both of his hands over his face and tugged at his hair, afraid that he’s already fucking this up. “Rafe,” You gently spoke up, turning to grab his hands from his face. “It’s fine. Keep going.”

His eyes met yours and you could see how strained he was. There were too many emotions swirling in his eyes for you to pinpoint exactly what he was feeling. “Okay, um, okay. To me, you are way too good for me, so the only time I feel comfortable talking to you is when I’m high. I’ve never had trouble talking to any girl before, but you’re more than that to me. You’re more than just some girl to me and it scares me, so I feel like I have to be, yanno, not me. When I talk to you. I want to be with you more than I have ever wanted to be with someone in my life”

Your hand was still holding his as you let his words sink in. Him revealing how his dad truly made him feel made your heart ache for him. It made you want to grab him by the face and tell him how he is more than good enough. You wanted to let him in, but you weren’t sure if you were ready for the risk that came along with it. You’re not sure if you want all the things that came with being with Rafe Cameron. He’s followed by hurt and lies, and you do feel guilty thinking that, but it’s been proven true countless times.

“Rafe, listen to me,” You began, moving so you were straddling him and holding his face in your hands. His hands immediately came to grip your hips, and you are well aware that this was a more than compromising situation. “I understand that your father is probably the worst person we both know, but that doesn’t excuse you lying to me. I don’t know if I can trust you, no matter how much I may want to.”

You watched as tears gather in his eyes, and he was doing his best to keep them at bay. He had never felt the way he feels about you before, and he’s more than aware that his reputation precedes him. He knows that he’s done nothing more than prove how untrusting he is to you, but he wouldn’t let that stop him from trying to prove to you that he means what he’s saying.

“I know that nothing I say will fix what I’ve already done. I know that, but I can show you just how much you mean to me, if you’ll let me. We can go at your pace. Do things your way. Just, please, give me another chance to prove myself to you.”

You’re searching for any detection of a lie in his eyes, in his voice, but you come up empty. You wipe away the stray tears that broke through his wall of protection. You hesitantly placed your forehead on his, and you could hear him take in a sharp breath at the connection. Your eyes fluttered closed, your nose brushing against his as you weighed all of your options.

“Did you mean what you to me? In your last text,” You whispered, too scared to open your eyes and look at him. “Do you actually love me?”

“More than you know,” His breath was hot against your chin, and he pulled you closer into him.

You decided to take a leap, dive into something that scared you more than anything. Your lips finally met his, and Rafe wasted no time in returning the feeling. Your hands fell from his cheeks and clasped each other behind his neck, while his hands stayed placed on your hips, too scared to push you too far. You deepened the passion filled kiss by pulling him closer to you and running your tongue across his bottom lip. Rafe’s lips moved in such a sensual way that you almost didn’t know how to react. It was much different from the lust filled kisses you’ve shared in the past. You started moving your hips on top of him, an action that had him gripping your hips tighter than before.

Y/N,” Rafe breathed out after he broke away from you, “If you don’t stop, I don’t know if I can control myself.”

“Then don’t.”

i have not edited this so if you see a mistake lmk. love u

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

IOTA Reviews: Guiltrip

So, my week has been hell. In addition to working night and day on final essays for my classes, I've been really busy at work lately, and the second COVID vaccine shot really took a lot out of me this week. And that's not even getting into the bureaucratic nonsense that comes with applying for the MTEL which is slowly making me wonder if I actually want to teach in the first place.

But, despite all that, there was a single light of hope this week that almost made it all worth it.

STAR WARS: THE BAD BATCH, BABY!

OH MY GOD, THIS SHOW IS AMAZING! I ALWAYS LOVED THE CLONE-CENTRIC EPISODES OF THE CLONE WARS, AND NOW WE GET AN ENTIRE SHOW ABOUT AN ELITE TEAM OF THEM? KICKASS! AND IT TAKES PLACE AFTER ORDER 66 WITH GRAND MOFF TARKIN AS THE MAIN VILLAIN? SWEET MOTHER OF GEORGE LUCAS, I CAN'T WAIT! I DON'T EVEN CARE THAT THEY TRADED IN THE COOL SNIPER CLONE FOR SOME LITTLE GIRL CLONE, I ALREADY WANT TO SEE MORE THAN THE TWO EPISODES WE GOT SO FAR! GOD, I LOVE THIS SHOW!

Oh yeah, there was also a new episode of Miraculous Ladybug that aired on the same day too, I guess. It was pretty good. Hell of a lot better than the past three episodes I've sat through.

Let's get into the fifth (chronologically the eleventh) episode of Miraculous Ladybug's fourth season: Guiltrip

We start off in the middle of class where we see Marinette looking at Adrien lovingly.

Because the writers are still trying to push the Love Square on us as if they were trying to sell us some death sticks. And yes, expect a few Star Wars jokes in this review. This episode did premiere on May 4th after all.

Rose suddenly gets a headache, and asks to go to the nurse, saying that “Miss Dora” is back. While walking there with Marinette, she explains that it's a code name she gives when her head hurts and can tell Miss Bustier without letting everyone know. She probably felt a name like “Maya Grain” would just give it away.

At lunch, Juleka gets a text that really upsets her, so Marinette tries to cheer her up. Keyword being “tries”.

Okay, yes, this is referencing the previous scene, where Rose refers to a certain snack at the nurse's office she eats to recover her health whenever “Miss Dora” visits called “Mr. Coffee”, but it's just bad timing. I get Marinette has a habit of not reading the room, but why did she have to use the term “Miss Dora” when she knows what it's being used for? Sure, she doesn't know that Juleka knows, but did she really have to say “Miss Dora”? She couldn't have used any other name instead? It's like making a chemotherapy joke when you just found out someone close to you has cancer. Even putting the context aside, what is this joke's punchline supposed to be? That “Miss Dora” will visit Juleka if she eats her lunch? Even by the humor standards of this show, the joke fails spectacularly.

Marinette bumps into Adrien, and although she stutters a little with a little exaggerated body movement, she does manage to take things seriously so she can have an actual conversation with Adrien about Juleka, who wants to be alone. She explains that the text she got was from Rose, who was sent to the hospital because of her sickness, and the entire class finds out because Marinette texted everyone to come to check on Juleka.

Goddamn it, Marinette. I usually defend you for getting screwed over by the writing, but you really aren't on your A game today.

Juleka explains that Rose got this sickness when she was little, which naturally worried everyone else. To make things worse, Juleka also says Rose made her swear to not tell anyone about her to worry her. Everyone else swears to not let Rose know that they know, and the act of support is actually enough to drive away an Akuma targeted at Juleka.

Unfortunately, nobody ever said anything about being overly affectionate to Rose, so everyone in the class tries to do things for Rose like carry her bags, giving her a pillow to sit on in school, helping her take notes, letting her cut in line at lunch, and giving her apples.

All of this makes Juleka remorsefully tell Rose that she told everyone else, which worries her because she hates all the special treatment, so she goes to tell them all about her illness. While they seem to accept her, the next time she sneezes, they overreact like, uh... how can I make this joke in a tasteful way?

Rose says she's had enough with all the treatment, which makes Juleka feel guilty. In the bathroom, she gets akumatized into Reflekta (yet again) with a Sentimonster named Guiltrip. And then Reflekta immediately gets sucked into the Sentimonster, which will cause it to go out of control. Nice job, Shadowmoth.

While it might not look like much, this is easily my favorite Sentimonster by far. Granted, that's not saying much, given all we've gotten so far for Sentimonsters is bootleg Mothra, sentient candy, a robotic doll, a frog with a body count, yet another evil doppelganger, and an eye, but my point still stands. Rather than actually confront the heroes, it's basically a portal to another world where it can trap people in bubbles that represent their regrets and despair, and turn them into copies of Reflekta.

It's a really strong metaphor which reminds me of the villains from Kamen Rider Wizard, who tried to drive their victims to despair in order to turn them into monsters. Ironically, that show's main villain is also some asshole in white who was risking countless lives just to save someone close to him. In general, the area inside of Guiltrip is visually stunning, and easily the highlight of the episode. It's just so surreal, and it really sets the tone the episode's going for.

Ladybug and Cat Noir arrive on the scene, and also get sucked into the portal, seeing some of the victims before they also start to fall into despair. And I can't believe I'm saying this, but this is one of the few times where Angstdrien Depreste is thematically appropriate. Cat Noir points out that if they had simply defeated Shadowmoth by now, none of this would be happening, which is a good point. He even attempts to kill himself using his Cataclysm, but unlike RWBY, they don't try to glorify it.

This also leads to Rose managing to fight off Guiltrip's powers with her optimistic personality (so I guess you could say she's A New Hope for the heroes), inspiring Ladybug to compliment Cat Noir. While I'd normally be pissed that this is yet another way to boost his ego, it does fit in with the episode's theme of positive thinking. Well, with the exception of one line where she points out what her time as Ladybug would be like without Cat Noir...

BEING A SUPERHERO IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FUN. Yes, there are certain benefits to being a superhero, but it is not a fun game you play when lives are on the line. Why are the writers so dedicated to validate Cat Noir's beliefs that being a hero is just a fun extracurricular activity? Has there ever been a superhero who shares a similar mentality and isn't treated like a complete jackass?

So Ladybug and Cat Noir break free of the bubbles, and after summoning her Lucky Charm, a pickaxe, Ladybug realizes she needs more positivity to break free from Guiltrip. As such, she pulls out the Pig Miraculous and gives it to Rose, who transforms into Pigella. Funny how she forgot her little headache condition when she bangs her head like a death metal singer while transforming.

The design is... wait, she's not wearing a skin-tight jumpsuit? She's actually wearing something different?

Yeah, I really like the Pigella design. There's a good mix of pink and white, and the skirt really brings the whole thing together. It really reflects Rose's optimistic and bubbly personality.

So the three heroes find Reflekta, who has been consumed by tons of bubbles. Pigella uses her superpower, Gift, to show Reflekta what her heart wants the most right now. So it's basically a more specific version of the Fox Miraculous? In fact, what do pigs have to do with optimism?

Whatever reason, it works, which helps Reflekta to break free of Guiltrip's influence, letting Ladybug de-evilize her. But because we need to have a fight scene in this episode, the Reflekta clones start to attack the heroes, but Ladybug uses the pickaxe to climb out of Guiltrip and purify the Amok.

So Rose hands the Pig Miraculous back to Ladybug, and the episode ends with everyone treating Rose normally in class, realizing she isn't as delicate as she thinks she is.

So yeah, I really like this episode. Aside from a few stupid things Marinette said this episode, I honestly don't have a lot of problems with the episode here.

I also really like the lesson this episode is going for. It doesn't shame Rose for rejecting the help, and it doesn't shame the class for being to overprotective of Rose either. It tries to find a middle ground, which is an important lesson to learn, not just for dealing with a loved one who has an illness, but for disabled people and other kinds of situations where someone has a disadvantage. Even as much as I ragged on Marinette for the text, it's clear that she isn't the only one to blame. In fact, nobody really gets blamed for anything this episode. It's more of a misunderstanding, and both sides find a balance on how to treat Rose.

It's overall a really good episode, and the second best one so far this season. And you know what? This episode taught me the importance of staying positive, so with that in mind, maybe I shouldn't be dreading “Queen Banana” when it comes out this week.

Wait, what? It got pushed back two weeks? Oh, THANK GOD! Now I feel like dancing. And I know exactly what song to dance to...

[pen-observing]

I finished my fic with this theme and I did the brothers reacting to this. So how could I, an undatables enthusiast, not make this? It took a while but it’s here. Some brain cells were involved in the making of this post,,,, I guess?

MASTERLIST

How the undatables react/pursue you after Diavolo cheats on you while married

Diavolo:

Why is he here? Well you see-- why not

In the human world some believe that the ultimate proof of love is giving the cheater another chance, fighting to salvage a relationship

In all honesty, Diavolo never expects that from you, nor does he hope such a thing can happen

He curses himself for a momentary weakness. A prince, a ruler, so easily swayed and influence does not carry any nobility or respect

He may be the most influential, the most powerful- but he starts seeing himself as weak

He hides away from his thoughts in work, in new holidays, in friendships and partnerships and in excuses

He tries not to give those thoughts space to grow

But, the damage has been done

Diavolo’s worst enemy and worst critic, the one who judges him the most is himself

He knows that with this one deed (some may call it a momentary lapse in judgement) he has undone all the work it took years to build

He knows that falling into temptation is the biggest mistake he has ever made; especially because he cannot bear to have you hate him when he loves you so much

Diavolo has no guts to admit that after what he did, he believes he has no right to claim it face-to-face

So, he randomly visits Lucifer to see you, ask about you. He tasks Barbatos with keeping you safe. Little Ds are ordered to make your life easier without being noticed

Because of what happened, he doubts that he deserves the place and title of a King

And, you notice that the most- in the smiles, in the speeches, in the doubt and guilt that radiates off from him

The only way to salvage this and get back together lies with you. If you, after so much time can forgive but not forget. If you can wish to grow into a union once more.  

He goes along with your wish for divorce just as quickly as he goes for your wish of reconciliation.  

He does not force you, he respects whatever you decide.

Barbatos:

Probably the one which would provide the most material for gossip and speculation, in theory

In practice, it’s like a 500k slow burn romance

Here is why; Barbatos is a man of duty and loyalty to the person that hurt you. He finds no amusement in being the center of gossip nor does he wish for you to go through the dirt. Devildom is such a cruel place, you cannot even imagine what could come your way if the relationship was established early on.

Besides, it is even hard for you to not have Barbatos remind you of Diavolo once the relationship first breaks

Babratos gives you time to heal and move on before he does anything which can show his romantic interest

He knows how charming you are, he knows your habits and he knows that he must be patient before a true connection can be established

So, how does it happen? Well, after healing from Diavolo you naturally, through fate or the wonder of time, need to spend some time in the same circle

Obligations, work and friendships bring you together in a weird way

The balls and parties are something you must attend and because Barbatos knows you, he knows just what you like

The perfect place for you to sit which is neither too warm nor too hot, a place far away from people you do not like in their world but close enough so that you do not miss anything important or fun. For some reason, it always smells like your favorite scent too

The perfect place, the perfect tea, the delicious food with small hidden notes which do not give away his intention but do show his affection  

It just grows more and more unbearable  

The lingering stares, the short but warm goodbyes, the way his hands just brush against yours for a moment longer than usual when he takes your coat

It creates a magical attraction inside that long game, which, as expected, Barbatos is better at than you

You try to find him alone and, in those moments; inside the kitchen or under the stairs while everyone is far away dancing, it becomes just the world of you two

His tone is warmer, he is more direct. You sometimes, inside such short pauses, are able to exchange warmth. In conversations, in the longing looks, in the way his hand holds yours. In the way he gently takes your wrist, puts his hand on the small of your back to guide you back inside a world which is overabundant in fancy but doesn’t feel meaningful without him in it

Sometimes, it can even hold a soft kiss

But, it becomes torture. Enough is enough. His privacy starts to seem like secrecy to you for all the wrong reasons. As a human, you aren’t patient enough to wait 4 years until something, anything happens  

So, you seek him out at the next party. They’re too rare in your opinion now. You seek him out and find him on the stairs as he goes to complete another task.

Bravery or foolishness, it does not matter which of the two makes you stop him. Makes you ask him; when? When will this secrecy end?

In reality, it doesn’t really matter. He would probably kabedon you on the stairs (as a true gentleman! don’t get it twisted!)

He holds time itself in his hands and yet you asked him.  

He whispers: “All in good time, my love. All in good time.”  

And leaves you like that.

So, what is the good time?  

It is already the point where you forgot about Diavolo but; has Diavolo forgotten about you?

That is what Barbatos waits for. He sees no need to ask his lord such a thing. Diavolo notices it himself. How could he not? Diavolo also knows that he does not love you anymore.

So, the next time Diavolo comes to the kitchen and sees your favorite tea (the one he never drinks) he gives Barbatos the permission, the freedom to go pursue you.  

After all, it is time.

Simeon:

The most empathic out of everyone.  

The best choice even

Why? With him, you would only feel compassion and care.

Gentleness.  

There is no drama that could follow you when you turn to him.

He has not sworn loyalty to Diavolo. He is not his partner. He lives in a completely different realm.  

It is really the exact change that you need. At first, it seems so odd because you are used to a completely different world but; it is comfort. It is care. It is everything that helps you heal

In truth, Simeon’s instinct gravitates towards that. It gravitates towards making sure that you heal in all aspects. Physically, emotionally- most importantly- your soul should shine like it used to

After you start that process it brings long conversations where you two ponder over what it means to live and love. You discuss theories and opinions. Simeon has loved longer than you, he has seen countless love stories- he even wrote some.

This process can even inspire him to flesh out a new character

In actuality, Simeon warned both Diavolo and you with masqueraded words about what marriage truly means before you got married

So now, he doesn’t say ‘I told you so’ or ‘Why didn’t you listen to me’. He just hopes that you won’t grow to hate the whole institution and tradition that marriage is

And honestly? Simeon shows you unrequited love so, how could you ever think that with him?

Here, you will be the first to realize your emotions and you will probably need to act on them first as well

Solomon:

He is somewhere in the human world, inside a secret room of an abandoned castle just thinking of new spells when he gets a text from Asmo about what happened

Dramatic as fuck gasp while his potion drops to the floor and now the floor is pink

Solomon, with all the years that he has been alive, with all the pacts and mistakes he has made- still is more human than the rest of them

This does not mean that he will be the best at comforting you but he already packed the most important things to go and see you. Is that not enough to show immediate care?

Instead of comforting you by himself he spends time in the House of Lamantation, working with the rest of the brothers  

Time has passed, you both have changed so it takes a bit for him to get familiar with you again and to work out your habits

Probably tries to joke like: “Even if that red tree branch offered me to make a pact with him I would refuse for your sake.”

It shows that, despite all the flaws and morally gray actions, he stands on your side- not his

But, life inside that house has to move on. He can’t really stay calm and tied down to it for months and as he is preparing for his next trip- he asks you to go with him

It is a true change of pace. You will experience new things you never dreamed of. He can teach you magic. He can show you places in the human world full of it

He promises to make sure that you are safe

So you set off with him

It is a grand adventure. It holds both comfort and new things that only make you grow.  

It holds his teasing as well but he never lets anything bad happen to you

He realizes his affections before you but you are so busy taking in the world’s wonders that he keeps them a secret for just a while longer because you are so excited. Your eyes shine and he just knows you have new stories to remember and uncover at the same time

You don’t realize yours until Solomon makes it clear to you, in a sly way.

You stand outside of enchanted ruins. The sky is bright blue with pink lines. Solomon says: “And who would have thought that one of the most powerful witches got cheated on by the man who allegedly enchanted this ruin when he was young? Hmm?~”

And really, who would? You realize then how that did not even cross your mind. How could it? Here you are with Solomon on another adventure that sparked more love as the sky dances for your new story.

Luke:

Has it been years since you got married? Yes

Has Luke grown to love demons? Absolutely not. Are you kidding me?

He throws his little hat to the ground when he finds out

Never trust their kind.  That's what he says

Sure Diavolo had a noble goal once but after this? Once Luke’s good opinion is lost it is lost forever

Baby is very dramatic about the whole thing

How dare that evil creature hurt you? Luke was teary eyed at your wedding and he is teary eyed the next time he sees you  

But

He tries his best. He really does.

He doesn’t have wisdom like Simeon. But he asks him for advice.  

Best believe the only way Diavolo will taste one of his treats again is if Luke yeets it in his face 

Firstly, tumblr better fix their tags because it is unbearable! Now you may ask; yooo why is Barbatos’ so long? Cus thats my boo and he is the main reason I decided to write these reactions in general

[xiu21chen99]

hxh headcanon/imagine.

again... still about hisoillu but about their engagement instead of illu's influenced fashion choice.

also this is more of... idk it gave reason why they chose to marry instead of uh other ways i guess??

i've seen so many fanarts where illu would break the news to the zoldycks or how killu would react to having hisoka as his brother in law- like srsly it's meme worthy at this point- and lotsa ones that showed how hisoka proposed as a joke or smtg but... I've been overthinking abt it these past few days sO i present to you how i think "the big question aka the proposal" happened... (manga spoilers??)

it's after hisoka resurrected himself obviously, and def after he killed kortopi and shalnark (so he knew there was gonna be empty slots in the spiders' lineup)

i imagine illu went back to the zoldyck estate after the whole fiasco and only heard of hisoka's "death" from rumors while he was on a mission

and then when he was idk maybe contemplating on whether or not he should visit the body(?) to pay respects or something, he gets a text message from the devil himself

their text went like this probably:

hisoka: hey~ where are you right now?♠️ (and no u can't tell me hisoka doesn't text w card suits u just can't-)

illumi: who are you and how did you get the phone you are currently using?

hisoka: ooh~ illu~ i feel betrayed, did you delete my number?♣️

illumi: hisoka is dead

hisoka: *image attached*

illumi: oh

illumi: hello hisoka, how are you still alive?

hisoka: you sound disappointed~♦️

illumi: i kind of am...

hisoka: rude, just tell me where you are♥️

...and that's how they met up?? ngl i think illu has a know-it-all syndrome where he just has to,,, k n o w everything

he's curious so he agrees to the meetup ofc

he's also surprised when he sees hisoka is in good shape when they meet (idk at a bar in an unknown city?)

they drink whiskey on the rocks because... you know...

hisoka explains how he survived and his next plan of action (which is terminate the spiders)

illumi makes a mental note of nen after death bc he's heard and seen it all before but... not to this extent,

this is gonna be,,, bland but i think this is the logic behind why hisoka chose to get married/engaged instead of just paying up front (reference to the ten dons' commission to get chrollo killed and chrollo's commission to get the ten dons killed)--

anyways here's how their conversation goes:

i: "why did you want to talk in person?"

h: "oh y'know, for old times sake."

i: "...right"

hisoka laughs, "okay so maybe i want to ask you for a favor..?"

confused, illumi asks, "why could you not have just texted if you wanted me to kill someone for you?"

h: "no, no- wait, actually, you're not too far off."

i: ~mOrE cOnfUsiOn~ "huh?"

h: "how do contracts for assassination work in your... family business?"

i: "half the promised pay before, the remaining half afterwards. should the target be eliminated by a third party, the assigned zoldyck still gets the pay and should the employer die, then the contract is terminated and the zoldyck will report back immediately."

h: "and has anyone made a contract to have themselves terminated?"

i: "i beg your pardon?"

h: "what complications will arise should your employer's target be... themselves?"

i: "i believe... i have never encountered such circumstance before. the people who hire us are those who have enough money and resource to have their enemies killed quickly. no one's tried to test the zoldyck assassination prowess."

h: "so... how will that work?"

i: "are you implying this is the reason why you have contacted me today?"

h: "yes~ ♥️" (how he said a heart emoji out loud is up to you, reader)

i: "it will be a pointless paradox. logically, the zoldyck will only get the employment bill. and i, myself, do not find pleasure in going for the kill like you lest i get my reward, so you will not get a contract out of me, hisoka."

h: "is there no leeway?"

i: "a zoldyck stands up to their word. so no."

h: "even for a friend?~ ♦️"

i: "we are not friends, hisoka-"

hisoka raises his glass of whiskey along with his eyebrow.

i: "oh..."

h: "didn't you tell dear killua that a zoldyck didn't need friends?"

i: "you... are an associate, someone reliable in the killing world. it's different."

h: "hypocrite"

i: "i ask you for favors and you make me return them. it is not like we spend our time together leisurely like killu with that island boy..."

hisoka clinks their matching glasses of whiskey even though his is already empty, a shit-eating grin on his lips.

i: "you suggested we meet here."

h: "this isn't the first time we went out to drink, right illu?"

i: "regardless!! i will not kill you just for half the money. i do not like wasting efforts on fruitless missions."

h: "as i said, is there no exception, to make sure you get my money if you were to succeed in killing me?"

i: "are you doubting my skill, hisoka?"

h: "that's not the point right now~ ♠️"

i: "wait, why do you want me to get all of your money?"

h: "haven't we just gotten over this subject? because you're my friend, of course."

i: "i... we are not friends, hisoka."

hisoka claps, "that's it! illumi!! ♣️"

i: "eh?"

h: "marry me! that way in our prenup I'll make sure you get all of my money, and even without a prenup you'll still get it since you'll be my only relative! that solves it!"

i: "hisoka, are you sure death did not took a toll on your brain? you did say you used Bungee Gum only on your heart and lungs..."

h: "i'm being serious, illumi!! and doesn't this solve your earlier conflict? we don't have to be friends, we'll be husbands!"

i: "do not use that tactic with me, you manipulative bastard. stop joking."

h: "this is purely beneficial for you, honestly i don't get why you just won't accept it."

i: "then humor me this first, why now?"

h: "dear illu, i've been to literal hell and back. i think it's time to leave my mark in case i fail to escape death again."

i: "was it that bad?"

h: "you'll love it there, illu~ ♥️"

h: "on a more serious note, though, i do plan to marry you. out of everyone i've encountered, you're the most eligible candidate. you're powerful, fully capable and extremely pretty to boot! you're the ideal husband!"

(blushing obviously, illumi downs the remaining whiskey in his glass) i: "death has changed you, hisoka."

h: "so?"

i: "fine."

h: "excellent!"

and in one fell swoop, illumi has a pin against the curve of hisoka's jugular, wrist held tightly by hisoka- a card matching against his own neck.

"not yet, dear husband." hisoka whispered into his ear, "we have to manage the papers first. and i've a request before you do."

they let each other go at the same time, not even breathing an unnecessary breath in the other's personal space (well, they're nearly pressed thigh to thigh anyways, what's the point of personal space anymore-)

"a condition rather than a request, really."

"what?" hisoka orders them refills, and downs his when it arrives.

"join the ryodan first."

glass already pressed on thin lips, illumi's confused hum resonates softly into the concave utensil. "why?"

"so things can get more interesting. i assume you know of the dark continent expedition that's soon to take place?"

"father has advised i take part on it, since kalluto told me the ryodan plans to rob some cliches who'll join the expedition- to look after him. you want me to join them?"

"yes, and i plan to board as well, don't fret."

illumi's eyes turn to slits, "how should i know you would be there? i can't take your word when you might just disappear when we've all boarded."

hisoka grins, wide then wider, "you should know by now illu, i plan to avenge my wounded pride. that damned chrollo didn't even fight me properly."

tilting his head, illumi stared at the man beside him, "is that not contradictory? i thought you did not mind your opponent using whatever means necessary to win?"

"magicians use tricks and misdirection to awe the audience," hisoka says almost thoughtlessly, "chrollo's a narcissistic hypnotist who used the audience as a damned shield because he knew he couldn't handle me face-to-face."

he groans, tinged in regret. "i shouldn't have picked heaven's arena, if i'd chosen a more discreet location then maybe the damage won't be this bad."

"damage?" illumi rests his chin on his palm, facing his husband.

hisoka swipes a hand over his face, and the glamour comes off. the picture he sent illumi now present in front of him. he was missing a nose, his left hand didn't have any finger left and dried blood chipped on his white skin. "oh."

with another swipe, everything's made correct again. hisoka was grinning again. he downs the remaining alcohol and leaves jenny bills under the emptied glass.

"come, lovely husband. we're to elope and legalize our union!"

illumi follows suit after downing his own glass, "i think there might be another loop hole, if you were to join the family. zoldycks do not kill family."

"so if i were to wed you, here and now, you'd think me more of a family than alluka?"

"alluka is not family."

"are those your words, illumi? or silva's?"

"i..."

"wow, you're really just as fucked up as i am."

"where do you plan to take me? i've just said i cannot kill family."

hisoka chuckles, "then you're the one to take my name, of course."

"preposterous!"

"who the hell still uses that word?"

"i am and will always be a zoldyck-"

"exactly. it's just legal papers, if you kill me then you'll just be a widow and even get your name back! see how everything'll work out in the end?"

"hisoka-"

"are you doubting your skill of assassination, my dearest husband?"

"... i better get the most expensive ring in this damned city."

"that's the spirit! now let's go get married!"

"wait, hisoka. what is your last name?"

later that night, when they leave a chapel, something gold glimmers on hisoka's bungee gum/texture surprise ring finger. a matching one around illumi's finger.

unlike hisoka, though, illumi had an extra red glimmer right under that gold, in the dead center of a silver band of intricately designed pattern. hisoka had foregone the traditional diamond in favor of a 16 carat ruby engagement ring, such a curious choice but illumi accepted it all the same...

(much later on, hisoka took both rings as collateral and reminded illumi that he would get them back even if he died bc it was in their damn prenup- and bc it was technically bought under illumis name and that's how hisoka assured illu that he'd be on that black whale,,, bc he had the rings and planned to give them back to him there)

"I thought a red gemstone was better suited for the rather bloody and murderous ending that our relationship will inevitably come to, wouldn't you agree?"

-Hisoka Morow whenever someone mentions his preference of proposal ring...

"I disagree with most of his ideals, our relationship has always had a fragile foundation, and I knew from the start that we'd eventually end up killing each other."

-Illumi Morow, nee Zoldyck when asked about his thoughts on his husband...

[an-svu-sideblog]

Women of SVU Week - Day 1

Priorities

Characters: Kat Tamin, her girlfriend, Fin Tutola, brief Olivia Benson

Warnings: language, almost smut but not quite

Dua Lipa blasted from the phone lying on the bathroom counter amongst scattered makeup brushes, eye shadow palettes and fake lashes. The bass sounded thinner than it should through the small speaker.

Kat leaned forward toward the mirror, her mouth forming a small “o” as applied her eyeliner, tapering it to a perfect wing. “Is Kristina bringing her new girlfriend?” she called.

“What?” a voice called back from the adjacent bedroom.

Kat finished her makeup and strode into the bedroom, leaving her phone near the sink. “I asked if Kristina was bringing her new girlfriend.” She approached the bed where her girlfriend was perched on the edge, currently pulling sheer tights up her calves. Kat reached into her purse and began shuffling around for her earrings.

“Which new girlfriend?” Jo asked derisively.

Kat paused, wrist deep in her purse. “Wait, another one? Isn’t she dating that nurse from Queens? The one she brought to the Halloween party?”

“Turns out the nurse was fucking an EMT so that didn’t end well. Now she’s dating a girl she met at that bar uptown. You would’ve met her at the New Years party if you had been there.” Jo’s statement had little vitriol in it, but it stung nonetheless. The frequency at which Kat was suddenly called into work was often a source of contention in their relationship.

Kat tried to ignore it. “Okay, what does this girlfriend do? She’s not another bad tattoo artist is she?” she asked, half-joking. “Kristina doesn’t need another Chinese character that says ‘water buffalo’ on her ankle.”

Jo laughed snidely. “No, this one is an Instagram influencer. Don’t let her start trying to sell you her miracle juice cleanse mixes. Kristina says her intestines haven’t been the same since.”

“Noted.” Kat replied with a wince. “I’m just glad she has someone. She’s so busy all the time; it’s good that she can make time for a girlfriend.”

Jo didn’t reply.

Earrings in place, Kat gave her tight dress one last adjustment and turned to face her girlfriend. She threw her hands out to the side, asking for Jo’s opinion. Jo smiled and lifted herself off the bed to close the distance between them. Kat, already in her heels, gazed down at her girlfriend, her hair hanging down to frame both their faces.

As they met, Jo ran her hands across the smooth fabric that was hugging Kat’s hips and pulled her body even closer.

“You look so good,” Jo said, her voice low. “You’ve been so busy lately. I’m glad I finally have you to myself for a night.”

“I’m all yours,” Kat matched her tone and leaned in for a kiss. Their hands roved over each others bodies as the kiss deepened. They pulled each other close; any space between them was too much.

Jo started pulling Kat toward the bed, craning her neck to ensure their lips never parted. “We’re going to be late,” Kat murmured into the kiss.

“So?” Jo retorted with a smirk. Their knees met the mattress, and Jo pushed Kat down to sit on the edge of the bed. She straddled Kat’s lap, her dress riding dangerously high around her thighs. Kat’s hands slid slowly up her girlfriend’s legs and hips, tracing the folds and seams of the dress now bunched around her waist.

Jo gently gyrated her hips to the still-blaring pop music from the other room. Kat moaned slightly into their kiss.

“You’re fucking kidding,” Jo said with a sharp sigh. The music had suddenly been interrupted and replaced by a harsh vibrating sound against the porcelain counter.

Kat paused, her eyes still closed as if she could ignore the ringing phone. The woman sitting on her lap was more determined to ignore the unwelcome distraction. Jo kissed her harder. Kat allowed herself to succumb for a moment before her rational brain won out.

“I have to get that,” she said ruefully.

Jo groaned and leaned back to give Kat a disappointed look. “You said you had off tonight.”

“I did have off, but if we catch a case I have to go.” Kat lightly patted her girlfriends thigh, a gentle request for her to vacate Kat’s lap. “C’mon, I have to see who it is.” Jo didn’t move. “Jo,” Kat added with a stern look.

She let up, and Kat rushed to her phone, her heels clicking on the tiled bathroom floor. It was, of course, her Sergeant. When she returned to the bedroom, her face said everything that Jo needed to know.

“I’m sorry,” Kat insisted, grabbing her bag off the bed. “I’ll make it up to you I promise.”

Kat was rushing too fast to see the utter defeat on her girlfriend’s face. Jo didn’t say anything as she watched her girlfriend disappear from the apartment.

***

The fluorescent lights of the precinct were a harsh contrast to the darkening sky outside. The squad room was mostly empty as she arrived. Only Fin and Benson had arrived so far, and Benson was busy in her office preparing to brief her squad.

Fin looked practically scrubby in his jeans and button-up compared to Kat’s elegant and very low-cut dress. She hadn’t had time to go home and change, and he didn’t waste the opportunity to comment.

“Which club is missing you tonight?” Fin asked with a sly smile on his face.

“None you’ve heard of,” she retorted.

Fin winced dramatically, “I’m not that old!”

Kat smirked. “When’s the last time you stayed out past 11pm?” His wounded silence was answer enough. She moved past him, still smirking at his defeat. “I have clothes in my locker; I’ll change before we start.”

Kat returned from the locker room, looking much more professional. She shed her party clothes and adopted her usual steely attitude, now ready for the job. The only tell that her night out had been abruptly interrupted was the heavy makeup that still adorned her brown eyes.

Benson briefed them on the situation. A brutal rape/homicide had culminated in the victim stumbling, bleeding, into a corner store. After being rushed to the hospital, she died in surgery. The victim was left with no wallet, no ID. There were no solid suspects.

With no leads on where the girl came from, Benson directed Fin and Kat to start at the corner store.

***

In the midst of an unhelpful interview with the store clerk, Kat felt her phone vibrate several times in her pocket.

After discovering no helpful leads, Fin thanked the clerk for their help and they moved to leave. He and Kat stepped back out into the cool night air, hypothesizing what to investigate next with such little info.

Kat ventured a glance at her phone and felt her heart jump into her throat as she read the notification.

from: Jo <3

9:21pm

[I’m sorry Kat, I can’t do this anymore. I don’t feel like a priority, it’]

The preview ended there, but Kat had seen enough. A surprising mixture of emotions cascaded over her. She felt disappointed, confused, and overwhelmingly indignant. A breakup by text? Seriously?!

Fin had gotten ahead of her on his way back to the car. He quickly realized she hadn’t kept up. “Tamin, you have an epiphany or something? Let’s go.”

She wordlessly closed the distance and joined him in the car. She worried her expression was giving away too much, but she couldn’t seem to collect her focus enough to erase the emotion on her face. Her heart may as well have been on her sleeve.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Kat started out the window, hoping her Sergeant wouldn’t pry.

“You good?” Fin asked after a long moment of silence.

She internally cursed the occupational hazard of having coworkers who were very insightful. “Fine,” she replied shortly.

“You’ll do your job better if you’re not distracted.”

Kat paused a moment to consider the veracity of his statement. He was right, annoyingly, and she knew he was also implying that talking about it was the remedy to the problem of distraction. Giving up on hiding her sour expression, she turned to him. “Well, I’ll have a lot more time to do my job. I won’t need time off for date nights anymore.”

“Did you just get broken up with by text?” he asked incredulously.

Kat lifted her phone and gave it a little shake to indicate that she had indeed.

“That’s cold. You’re too good for her,” Fin said adamantly.

She scoffed in response. She knew he meant well, but it sounded like the kind of compliment that a mother gives: genuine, if not cloying, and completely subjective.

“I’m serious. The job is hard, but you deserve someone who can handle it just like you do. I lucked out with Phoebe; she knows exactly what the job is like. Not everyone can get it.”

“I just don’t know if it’s worth it. Dating is so much time and effort. Meeting someone you’re actually interested in seems impossible, and then as soon as they realize the work schedule is insane and unpredictable they bail.” She let her eyes follow each street light as they drove through the city. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the job. I just don’t know anymore...”

“Once you find that someone, it is worth it.” Fin’s voice was softer than Kat was used to hearing it. The seasoned Sergeant with a killer quip ready for any perp was being uncharacteristically soft. “Even if you only get to see that person for a few minutes when you wake up or for a quick coffee at lunch, it’s worth it. For both of you. The right person will get it.”

Kat felt the anger in her ebbing away, leaving only the sadness in its place. “Thanks Sarge,” she told him sincerely.

“Now you owe me fifty bucks. Therapy’s not cheap.” He said this with an even, serious tone, but the shit-eating grin on his face said otherwise.

“Ha ha,” she replied sardonically. “Don’t quit your day job.” Her tone was dry, but she was thankful for his attempt to lighten her mood. It worked, if only for a moment.

The details of the surrounding city faded from her focus as Kat tried to push the breakup from her mind and refocus on the case at hand. She failed and instead, she found herself re-living every suddenly canceled date, every small argument, and every time a tough case had consumed Kat’s mind and prevented her from being fully present during what little time she had with her girlfriend.

They say hindsight is 20/20, but it felt like these memories were viewed through the wrong prescription lenses; whatever the opposite of rose-colored glasses are.

She unlocked her phone once more and swiped the notification away, willing her eyes not to read the letters as they scanned the preview once more.

She does deserve better.

[comingoutofthecauldron]

let’s talk about lesbophobia in fandom

i don’t like to use the word “lesbophobia” unironically because of all the gross radfem terfy connotations, so i will clarify right off the bat that i am neither a terf nor an aphobe and that if you are i want you off my blog like, right now. unfortunately, the meaning of lesbophobia has been so warped by alt right lesbians that seeing it in an unironic context makes me, a lesbian, uncomfortable, which speaks volumes in itself. so to clarify, lesbophobia is essentially homophobia with a pinch of sexism thrown into the mix, and it’s running rampant in supposed safe spaces and, more relevantly, fandom. 

/i’d also like to clarify that i’m not only speaking on lesbophobia, but also the general disgust and disdain for all wlw in fandom, and am using it as a sort of umbrella term/

lesbophobia and disdain for wlw has been around forever, but whilst gay positivity, mlm and mlm ships have been steadily increasing in popularity within fandom over time, wlw and wlw ships have remained perpetual underdogs. why? because lesbophobia has become a fandom within itself. both in and outside of fandom, we see instances of casual lesbophobia every single day—from aggression towards wlw to something as simple and prevalent as the complete and utter lack of sapphic ships and characters in media. hatred of lesbians and wlw is practically a trend, and it’s seeping in through the cracks of fandoms who are already facing issues with minorities and marginalized groups (i.e. racism, ableism). if you honestly think that lesbophobia isn’t prevalent as hell in fandom right now, you’re either not a wlw, you’re not all that involved in fandom, or you’re dumb as shit. 

just look at ships. in almost every single fandom, the ratio of mlm ships to sapphic ships is ridiculously unbalanced. people are quick to ship male characters who so much as smile at each other (and i don’t condemn that) but would never do the same for two women—even on the rare occasion that the ship is actually canon. i once wrote a wlw fanfic for a [predominantly straight] fandom, and received messages like this gem:

on the flip side of that, if there is a sapphic ship in canon or fanon, it is often fetishized and sexualised to a disturbing degree. there will be double the amount of nsfw art and fics, and ninety percent of it will be derogatory and fetishized as hell. having been actively involved in several fandoms over the past few years (and currently a content creator in one), i’ve seen instances of all this hundreds of times. people go crazy for mlm ships, but the second you say you ship/prefer a wlw ship, there’s always someone at the ready with, “i think all ships are great!” or “it’s not a contest” or “i prefer [insert m/m or m/f ship] actually” or “they’re my brotp!/why can’t you just let them be friends?”. not only do lesbians and wlw not get to have any rep in media, any rep that they try to create for themselves in fandom just gets attacked or ruined. this is so detrimental not only to all wlw, but especially to younger wlw who will end up being indoctrinated into this belief that their sexuality is something dirty, something that can never be tender and sweet but rather something that deserves to be preyed upon. 

building on that, let’s talk about engagement. i run an instagram account (where i have a significantly bigger following) as well as this blog for my fandom, where i post the content i create (mainly text posts). when i first started creating content, i made a lot for a relatively unpopular wlw ship, in which both girls are canonically romantically involved with a dude—though one of them is canonically pan. their canonical m/f ships are both very popular, and i noticed that my engagement was dropping every time i posted them, so i eventually just stopped. it wasn’t even a conscious decision; i merely resigned myself to the fact that the fandom didn’t want to see sapphic ships, and some people would even go as far as to condemn them. for reference, my instagram posts get an average of about 500 likes per post (popular ones usually exceeding 1k), but when i post this ship, my engagement drops to about 250 likes. similarly, my tumblr text posts have an average of about 140 notes per post (popular ones usually reaching up to 750), but my wlw content rarely surpasses 100. this just feeds the cycle of wlw never getting rep: if, like me, content creators become disincentivised by the lack of engagement with their sapphic content, they’re more likely to stop making/posting it, leading to further lack of rep—and when new content creators try to rectify that, they face the same problems. 

and then, of course, there’s the treatment of actual wlw in fandom. my best example of this is when my friend and i made an anti account on instagram (the first instagram anti account in that fandom), our bio saying something like “salty and bitter lesbians being salty and bitter”, and received an onslaught of lesbophobic insults and threats from angry stans within hours. (tw: r*pe) one commenter even went as far as to tell us that they wanted us to get r*ped. as well as this, i’ve seen so many instances of people using slurs against lesbians in arguments/in anons, often for no apparent reason other than they feel that they have the right. when i first mentioned i was a lesbian on instagram, my account only had about 200 followers, and within a day i lost 20. i also lose followers whenever i post f/f ships, not quite to that extent but enough for it to be noticeable, on top of the aforementioned engagement dips. in the face of all this adversity, i think a lot of wlw turn to mlm ships because they’re the closest thing we have to actual rep, but when we do we get accused of fetishizing them by the same people who fetishize us. there’s an endless list of double standards that non-wlw have been upholding for years, and i can firmly say that i’m really fucking sick of it. because of our sexuality, we will never be allowed to enjoy something without someone labelling it or us as dirty or otherwise problematic, when to them, the only problematic thing about us is that we aren’t pleasing men. 

as i mentioned before, the lack of rep for wlw in media is appallingly consistent, and part of that stems from tokenism. in a lot of modern mainstream media, you’ll have one, maybe two lgbt characters, and nine times out of ten those characters are white cis male gays. of course, there are exceptions to this, but generally, that’s it. script writers and authors (especially cishets) seem to have this mentality of, “oh, well, we gave them one, that’s sure to be enough!”, which means that on the off chance you do get your gay rep, the likelihood of also receiving wlw or any other kind of rep becomes practically non-existant. this belief that all marginalized groups are the same and that one represents all is what leads to misrepresentation on top of lack of rep, which is what makes tokenism so dangerous. if you treat your only gay character badly, you are essentially treating every single gay person badly in that universe. so not only is lesbophobia and disdain for wlw harmful to sapphic women via their exclusion in media, it’s also harming those minorities who do get rep. when people try to defend lesbophobic source material, that’s when fandom starts to get toxic. the need for critical thinking has never been more apparent and it has also never been less appeased—and wlw are getting hit hard by it, as always.

finally, a pretty big driving factor of lesbophobia is, ironically, lesbians. my lesbian friends and i often joke that though everyone seems to hate us, no one hates lesbians more than lesbians do. though i’d say it’s most prevalent on tumblr, i see traces of it all over the internet. the growth of alt right lesbian movements is not only reinforcing hatred for lesbians, but also reinforcing hatred for bi and pan women. here you have these terrible lesbians using their platforms to express their disgust for bi/pan women, for aces and aros, for trans women/nb lesbians, and people see them and say, “gosh, lesbians are just awful.” and just like that, all of us are evil. occasionally, lesbian blogs that i follow get put on terf blocklists for no other reason than the fact that they have “lesbian” in their bio. and the lesbians that actually deserve to be on those blocklists? they’re too busy spewing misinformation about trans women and bi women to care, boosted up by their alt right friends in an ever-expanding movement. i’ve found that this heavily influences fandom on tumblr, lesbians often getting branded as “biphobic” when they hc a female character as a lesbian rather than bi or pan. this criticism of both lesbians and wlw by lesbians and non-wlw alike only ever allows lesbophobia to grow, both in and out of fandom. that said, lesbians aren’t to blame for their own discrimination; rather, many of us have been conditioned into subconsciously endorsing it after spending our entire lives hearing heterosexual platitudes about lesbians and sapphic relationships. homophobic cishets are and always have been the nexus of this oppression—the only difference is that now they can hide behind alt right lesbians.

one thing has been made apparent to me throughout my time in fandom, and that thing is that no one likes to see men “underrepresented”. people hate sapphic ships and lesbians so much because there is no room for men, and men Do Not Like That. so, like the worms that they are, they slither their way in, be it through fetishization or condemnation of wlw characters and ships, and they ruin whatever good things we have going for us. the thing about worms, though, is that they’re easy enough to crush if you’re wearing the right shoes.

so to all my bi/pan gals and lesbian pals: put on your doc martens, because we’ve got ourselves some lesbophobes to stomp on. 

[holyhellpod]

Holy Hell: 3. Metanarrativity: Who’s the Deleuze and who’s the Guattari in your relationship? aka the analysis no one asked for.

In this ep, we delve into authorship, narrative, fandom and narrative meaning. And somehow, as always, bring it back to Cas and Misha Collins.

(Note: the reason I didn’t talk about Billie’s authorship and library is because I completely forgot it existed until I watched season 13 “Advanced Thanatology” again, while waiting for this episode to upload. I’ll find a way to work her into later episodes tho!)

I had to upload it as a new podcast to Spotify so if you could just re-subscribe that would be great! Or listen to it at these other links.

Please listen to the bit at the beginning about monetisation and if you have any questions don’t hesitate to message me here.

Apple | Spotify | Google

Transcript under the cut!

Warnings: discussions of incest, date rape, rpf, war, 9/11, the bush administration, abuse, mental health, addiction, homelessness. Most of these are just one off comments, they’re not full discussions.

Meta-Textuality: Who’s the Deleuze and who’s the Guattari in your relationship?

In the third episode of Season 6, “The Third Man,” Balthazar says to Cas, “you tore up the whole script and burned the pages.” That is the fundamental idea the writers of the first five seasons were trying to sell us: whatever grand plan the biblical God had cooking up is worth nothing in face of the love these men have—for each other and the world. Sam, Bobby, Cas and Dean will go to any lengths to protect one another and keep people safe. What’s real? What’s worth saving? People are real. Families are worth saving. 

This show plugs free will as the most important thing a person, angel, demon or otherwise can have. The fact of the matter is that Dean was always going to fight against the status quo, Sam was always going to go his own way, and Bobby was always going to do his best for his boys. The only uncertainty in the entire narrative is Cas. He was never meant to rebel. He was never meant to fall from Heaven. He was supposed to fall in line, be a good soldier, and help bring on the apocalypse, but Cas was the first agent of free will in the show’s timeline. Sam followed Lucifer, Dean followed Michael, and John gave himself up for the sins of his children, at once both a God and Jesus figure. But Cas wasn’t modelled off anyone else. He is original. There are definitely some parallels to Ruby, but I would argue those are largely unintentional. Cas broke the mold. 

That’s to say nothing of the impact he’s had on the fanbase, and the show itself, which would not have reached 15 seasons and be able to end the way they wanted it to without Cas and Misha Collins. His back must be breaking from carrying the entire show. 

But what the holy hell are we doing here today? Not just talking about Cas. We’re talking about metanarrativity: as I define it, and for purposes of this episode, the story within a story, and the act of storytelling. We’re going to go through a select few episodes which I think exemplify the best of what this show has to offer in terms of framing the narrative. We’ll talk about characters like Chuck and Becky and the baby dykes in season 10. And most importantly we’ll talk about the audience’s role, our role, in the reciprocal relationship of storytelling. After all, a tv show is nothing without the viewer.

I was in fact introduced to the concept of metanarrativity by Supernatural, so the fact that I’m revisiting it six years after I finished my degree to talk about the show is one of life’s little jokes.

 I’m brushing off my degree and bringing out the big guns (aka literary theorists) to examine this concept. This will be yet another piece of analysis that would’ve gone well in my English Lit degree, but I’ll try not to make it dry as dog shit. 

First off, I’m going to argue that the relationship between the creators of Supernatural and the fans has always been a dialogue, albeit with a power imbalance. Throughout the series, even before explicitly metanarrative episodes like season 10 “Fan Fiction” and season 4 “the monster at the end of this book,” the creators have always engaged in conversations with the fans through the show. This includes but is not limited to fan conventions, where the creators have actual, live conversations with the fans. Misha Collins admitted at a con that he’d read fanfiction of Cas while he was filming season 4, but it’s pretty clear even from the first season that the creators, at the very least Eric Kripke, were engaging with fans. The show aired around the same time as Twitter and Tumblr were created, both of which opened up new passageways for fans to interact with each other, and for Twitter and Facebook especially, new passageways for fans to interact with creators and celebrities.

But being the creators, they have ultimate control over what is written, filmed and aired, while we can only speculate and make our own transformative interpretations. But at least since s4, they have engaged in meta narrative construction that at once speaks to fans as well as expands the universe in fun and creative ways. My favourite episodes are the ones where we see the Winchesters through the lens of other characters, such as the season 3 episode “Jus In Bello,” in which Sam and Dean are arrested by Victor Henriksen, and the season 7 episode “Slash Fiction” in which Dean and Sam’s dopplegangers rob banks and kill a bunch of people, loathe as I am to admit that season 7 had an effect on any part of me except my upchuck reflex. My second favourite episodes are the meta episodes, and for this episode of Holy Hell, we’ll be discussing a few: The French Mistake, he Monster at the end of this book, the real ghostbusters, Fan Fiction, Metafiction, and Don’t Call Me Shurley. I’ll also discuss Becky more broadly, because, like, of course I’ll be discussing Becky, she died for our sins. 

Let’s take it back. The Monster At The End Of This Book — written by Julie Siege and Nancy Weiner and directed by Mike Rohl. Inarguably one of the better episodes in the first five seasons. Not only is Cas in it, looking so beautiful, but Sam gets something to do, thank god, and it introduces the character of Chuck, who becomes a source of comic relief over the next two seasons. The episode starts with Chuck Shurley, pen named Carver Edlund after my besties, having a vision while passed out drunk. He dreams of Sam and Dean larping as Feds and finding a series of books based on their lives that Chuck has written. They eventually track Chuck down, interrogate him, and realise that he’s a prophet of the lord, tasked with writing the Winchester Gospels. The B plot is Sam plotting to kill Lilith while Dean fails to get them out of the town to escape her. The C plot is Dean and Cas having a moment that strengthens their friendship and leads further into Cas’s eventual disobedience for Dean. Like the movie Disobedience. Exactly like the movie Disobedience. Cas definitely spits in Dean’s mouth, it’s kinda gross to be honest. Maybe I’m just not allo enough to appreciate art. 

When Eric Kripke was showrunner of the first five seasons of Supernatural,  he conceptualised the character of Chuck. Kripke as the author-god introduced the character of the author-prophet who would later become in Jeremy Carver’s showrun seasons the biblical God. Judith May Fathallah writes in “I’m A God: The Author and the Writing Fan in Supernatural” that Kripke writes himself both into and out of the text, ending his era with Chuck winking at the camera, saying, “nothing really ends,” and disappearing. Kripke stayed on as producer, continuing to write episodes through Sera Gamble’s era, and was even inserted in text in the season 6 episode “The French Mistake”. So nothing really does end, not Kripke’s grip on the show he created, not even the show itself, which fans have jokingly referred to as continuing into its 16th season. Except we’re not joking. It will die when all of us are dead, when there is no one left to remember it. According to W R Fisher, humans are homo narrans, natural storytellers. The Supernatural fandom is telling a fidelitous narrative, one which matches our own beliefs, values and experiences instead of that of canon. Instead of, at Fathallah says, “the Greek tradition, that we should struggle to do the right thing simply because it is right, though we will suffer and be punished anyway,” the fans have created an ending for the characters that satisfies each and every one of our desires, because we each create our own endings. It’s better because we get to share them with each other, in the tradition of campfire stories, each telling our own version and building upon the others. If that’s not the epitome of mythmaking then I don’t know. It’s just great. Dean and Cas are married, Eileen and Sam are married, Jack is sometimes a baby who Claire and Kaia are forced to babysit, Jody and Donna are gonna get hitched soon. It’s season 17, time for many weddings, and Kevin Tran is alive. Kripke, you have no control over this anymore, you crusty hag. 

Chuck is introduced as someone with power, but not influence over the story, only how the story is told through the medium of the novels. It’s basically a very badly written, non authorised biography, and Charlie reading literally every book and referencing things she should have no knowledge of is so damn creepy and funny. At first Chuck is surprised by his characters coming to life, despite having written it already, and when shown the intimidating array of weapons in Baby’s trunk he gets real scared. Which is the appropriate response for a skinny 5-foot-8 white guy in a bathrobe who writes terrible fantasy novels for a living. 

As far as I can remember, this is the first explicitly metanarrative episode in the series, or at least the first one with in world consequences. It builds upon the lore of Christianity, angels, and God, while teasing what’s to come. Chuck and Sam have a conversation about how the rest of the season is going to play out, and Sam comes away with the impression that he’ll go down with the ship. They touch on Sam’s addiction to demon blood, which Chuck admits he didn’t write into the books, because in the world of supernatural, addiction should be demonised ha ha at every opportunity, except for Dean’s alcoholism which is cool and manly and should never be analysed as an unhealthy trauma coping mechanism. 

Chuck is mostly impotent in the story of Sam and Dean, but his very presence presents an element of good luck that turns quickly into a force of antagonism in the series four finale, “Lucifer Rising”, when the archangel Raphael who defeats Lilith in this episode also kills Cas in the finale. It’s Cas’s quick thinking and Dean’s quick doing that resolve the episode and save them from Lilith, once again proving that free will is the greatest force in the universe. Cas is already tearing up pages and burning scripts. The fandom does the same, acting as gods of their own making in taking canon and transforming it into fan art. The fans aren’t impotent like Chuck, but neither do we have sway over the story in the way that Cas and Dean do. Sam isn’t interested in changing the story in the same way—he wants to kill Lilith and save the world, but in doing so continues the story in the way it was always supposed to go, the way the angels and the demons and even God wanted him to. 

Neither of them are author-gods in the way that God is. We find out later that Chuck is in fact the real biblical god, and he engineers everything. The one thing he doesn’t engineer, however, is Castiel, and I’ll get to that in a minute.

The Real Ghostbusters

Season 5’s “The real ghostbusters,” written by Nancy Weiner and Erik Kripke, and directed by James L Conway, situates the Winchesters at a fan convention for the Supernatural books. While there, they are confronted by a slew of fans cosplaying as Sam, Dean, Bobby, the scarecrow, Azazel, and more. They happen to stumble upon a case, in the midst of the game where the fans pretend to be on a case, and with the help of two fans cosplaying as Sam and Dean, they put to rest a group of homicidal ghost children and save the day. Chuck as the special guest of the con has a hero moment that spurs Becky on to return his affections. And at the end, we learn that the Colt, which they’ve been hunting down to kill the devil, was given to a demon named Crowley. It’s a fun episode, but ultimately skippable. This episode isn’t so much metanarrative as it is metatextual—metatextual meaning more than one layer of text but not necessarily about the storytelling in those texts—but let’s take a look at it anyway.

The metanarrative element of a show about a series of books about the brothers the show is based on is dope and expands upon what we saw in “the monster at the end of this book”. But the episode tells a tale about about the show itself, and the fandom that surrounds it. 

Where “The Monster At The End Of This Book” and the season 5 premiere “Sympathy For The Devil” poked at the coiled snake of fans and the concept of fandom, “the real ghostbusters” drags them into the harsh light of an enclosure and antagonises them in front of an audience. The metanarrative element revolves around not only the books themselves, but the stories concocted within the episode: namely Barnes and Demian the cosplayers and the story of the ghosts. The Winchester brothers’s history that we’ve seen throughout the first five seasons of the show is bared in a tongue in cheek way: while we cried with them when Sam and Dean fought with John, now the story is thrown out in such a way as to mock both the story and the fans’ relationship to it. Let me tell you, there is a lot to be made fun of on this show, but the fans’ relationship to the story of Sam, Dean and everyone they encounter along the way isn’t part of it. I don’t mean to be like, wow you can’t make fun of us ever because we’re special little snowflakes and we take everything so seriously, because you are welcome to make fun of us, but when the creators do it, I can’t help but notice a hint of malice. And I think that’s understandable in a way. Like The relationship between creator and fan is both layered and symbiotic. While Kripke and co no doubt owe the show’s popularity to the fans, especially as the fandom has grown and evolved over time, we’re not exactly free of sin. And don’t get me wrong, no fandom is. But the bad apples always seem to outweigh the good ones, and bad experiences can stick with us long past their due.

However, portraying us as losers with no lives who get too obsessed with this show — well, you know, actually, maybe they’re right. I am a loser with no life and I am too obsessed with this show. So maybe they have a point. But they’re so harsh about it. From wincestie Becky who they paint as a desperate shrew to these cosplayers who threaten Dean’s very perception of himself, we’re not painted in a very good light. 

Dean says to Demian and Barnes, “It must be nice to get out of your mom’s basement.” He’s judging them for deriving pleasure from dressing up and pretending to be someone else for a night. He doesn’t seem to get the irony that he does that for a living. As the seasons wore on, the creators made sure to include episodes where Dean’s inner geek could run rampant, often in the form of dressing up like a cowboy, such as season six “Frontierland” and season 13 “Tombstone”. I had to take a break from writing this to laugh for five minutes because Dean is so funny. He’s a car gay but he only likes one car. He doesn’t follow sports. His echolalia causes him to blurt out lines from his favourite movies. He’s a posse magnet. And he loves cosplay. But he will continually degrade and insult anyone who expresses interest in role play, fandom, or interests in general. Maybe that’s why Sam is such a boring person, because Dean as his mother didn’t allow him to have any interests outside of hunting. And when Sam does express interests, Dean insults him too. What a dick. He’s my soulmate, but I am not going to stop listening to hair metal for him. That’s where I draw the line. 

 Where “the monster at the end of this book” is concerned with narrative and authorship, “the real ghostbusters” is concerned with fandom and fan reactions to the show. It’s not really the best example to talk about in an episode about metanarrativity, but I wanted to include it anyway. It veers from talk of narrative by focusing on the people in the periphery of the narrative—the fans and the author. In season 9 “Metafiction,” Metatron asks the question, who gives the story meaning? The text would have you believe it’s the characters. The angels think it’s God. The fandom think it’s us. The creators think it’s them. Perhaps we will never come to a consensus or even a satisfactory answer to this question. Perhaps that’s the point.

The ultimate takeaway from this episode is that ordinary people, the people Sam and Dean save, the people they save the world for, the people they die for again and again, are what give their story meaning. Chuck defeats a ghost and saves the people in the conference room from being murdered. Demian and Barnes, don’t ask me which is which, burn the bodies of the ghost children and lay their spirits to rest. The text says that ordinary, every day people can rise to the challenge of becoming extraordinary. It’s not a bad note to end on, by any means. And then we find out that Demian and Barnes are a couple, which of course Dean is surprised at, because he lacks object permanence. 

This is no doubt influenced by how a good portion of the transformative fandom are queer, and also a nod to the wincesties and RPF writers like Becky who continue to bottom feed off the wrong message of this show. But then, the creators encourage that sort of thing, so who are the real clowns here? Everyone. Everyone involved with this show in any way is a clown, except for the crew, who were able to feed their families for more than a decade. 

Okay side note… over the past year or so I’ve been in process of realising that even in fandom queers are in the minority. I know the statistic is that 10% of the world population is queer, but that doesn’t seem right to me? Maybe because 4/5 closest friends are queer and I hang around queers online, but I also think I lack object permanence when it comes to straight people. Like I just do not interact with straight people on a regular basis outside of my best friend and parents and school. So when I hear that someone in fandom is straight I’m like, what the fuck… can you keep that to yourself please? Like if I saw Misha Collins coming out as straight I would be like, I didn’t ask and you didn’t have to tell. Okay I’m mostly joking, but I do forget straight people exist. Mostly I don’t think about whether people are gay or trans or cis or straight unless they’ve explicitly said it and then yes it does colour my perception of them, because of course it would. If they’re part of the queer community, they’re my people. And if they’re straight and cis, then they could very well pose a threat to me and my wellbeing. But I never ask people because it’s not my business to ask. If they feel comfortable enough to tell me, that’s awesome.  I think Dean feels the same way. Towards the later seasons at least, he has a good reaction when it’s revealed that someone is queer, even if it is mostly played off as a joke. It’s just that he doesn’t have a frame of reference in his own life to having a gay relationship, either his or someone he’s close to. He says to Cesar and Jesse in season 11 “The Critters” that they fight like brothers, because that’s the only way he knows how to conceptualise it. He doesn’t have a way to categorise his and Cas’s relationship, which is in many ways, long before season 15 “Despair,” harking back even to the parallels between Ruby and Cas in season 3 and 4, a romantic one, aside from that Cas is like a brother to him. Because he’s never had anyone in his life care for him the way Cas does that wasn’t Sam and Bobby, and he doesn’t recognise the romantic element of their relationship until literally Cas says it to him in the third last episode, he just—doesn’t know what his and Cas’s relationship is. He just really doesn’t know. And he grew up with a father who despised him for taking the mom and wife role in their family, the role that John placed him in, for being subservient to John’s wishes where Sam was more rebellious, so of course he wouldn’t understand either his own desires or those of anyone around him who isn’t explicitly shoving their tits in his face. He moulded his entire personality around what he thought John wanted of him, and John says to him explicitly in season 14 “Lebanon”, “I thought you’d have a family,” meaning, like him, wife and two rugrats. And then, dear god, Dean says, thinking of Sam, Cas, Jack, Claire, and Mary, “I have a family.” God that hurts so much. But since for most of his life he hasn’t been himself, he’s been the man he thought his father wanted him to be, he’s never been able to examine his own desires, wants and goals. So even though he’s really good at reading people, he is not good at reading other people’s desires unless they have nefarious intentions. Because he doesn’t recognise what he feels is attraction to men, he doesn’t recognise that in anyone else. 

Okay that’s completely off topic, wow. Getting back to metanarrativity in “The Real Ghostbusters,” I’ll just cap it off by saying that the books in this episode are more a frame for the events than the events themselves. However, there are some good outtakes where Chuck answers some questions, and I’m not sure how much of that is scripted and how much is Rob Benedict just going for it, but it lends another element to the idea of Kripke as author-god. The idea of a fan convention is really cool, because at this point Supernatural conventions had been running for about 4 years, since 2006. It’s definitely a tribute to the fans, but also to their own self importance. So it’s a mixed bag, considering there were plenty of elements in there that show the good side of fandom and fans, but ultimately the Winchesters want nothing to do with it, consider it weird, and threaten Chuck when he says he’ll start releasing books again, which as far as they know is his only source of income. But it’s a fun episode and Dean is a grouchy bitch, so who the holy hell cares?

Season 10 episode “fanfiction” written by my close personal friend Robbie Thompson and directed by Phil Sgriccia is one of the funniest episodes this show has ever done. Not only is it full of metatextual and metanarrative jokes, the entire premise revolves around fanservice, but in like a fun and interesting way, not fanservice like killing the band Kansas so that Dean can listen to “Carry On My Wayward Son” in heaven twice. Twice. One version after another. Like I would watch this musical seven times in theatre, I would buy the soundtrack, I would listen to it on repeat and make all my friends listen to it when they attend my online Jitsi birthday party. This musical is my Hamilton. Top ten episodes of this show for sure. The only way it could be better is if Cas was there. And he deserved to be there. He deserved to watch little dyke Castiel make out with her girlfriend with her cute little wings, after which he and Dean share uncomfortable eye contact. Dean himself is forever coming to terms with the fact that gay people exist, but Cas should get every opportunity he can to hear that it’s super cool and great and awesome to be queer. But really he should be in every episode, all of them, all 300 plus episodes including the ones before angels were introduced. I’m going to commission the guy who edits Paddington into every movie to superimpose Cas standing on the highway into every episode at least once.

“Fan Fiction” starts with a tv script and the words “Supernatural pilot created by Eric Kripke”. This Immediately sets up the idea that it’s toying with narrative. Blah blah blah, some people go missing, they stumble into a scene from their worst nightmares: the school is putting on a musical production of a show inspired by the Supernatural books. It’s a comedy of errors. When people continue to go missing, Sam and Dean have to convince the girls that something supernatural is happening, while retaining their dignity and respect. They reveal that they are the real Sam and Dean, and Dean gives the director Marie a summary of their lives over the last five seasons, but they aren’t taken seriously. Because, like, of course they aren’t. Even when the girls realise that something supernatural is happening, they don’t actually believe that the musical they’ve made and the series of books they’re basing it on are real. Despite how Sam and Dean Winchester were literal fugitives for many years at many different times, and this was on the news, and they were wanted by the FBI, despite how they pretend to be FBI, and no one mentions it??? Did any of the staffwriters do the required reading or just do what I used to do for my 40 plus page readings of Baudrillard and just skim the first sentence of every paragraph? Neat hack for you: paragraphs are set up in a logical order of Topic, Example, Elaboration, Linking sentence. Do you have to read 60 pages of some crusty French dude waxing poetic about how his best friend Pierre wants to shag his wife and making that your problem? Read the first and last sentence of every paragraph. Boom, done. Just cut your work in half. 

The musical highlights a lot of the important moments of the show so far. The brothers have, as Charlie Bradbury says, their “broment,” and as Marie says, their “boy melodrama scene,” while she insinuates that there is a sexual element to their relationship. This show never passed up an opportunity to mention incest. It’s like: mentioning incest 5000 km, not being disgusting 1 km, what a hard decision. Actually, they do have to walk on their knees for 100 miles through the desert repenting. But there are other moments—such as Mary burning on the ceiling, a classic, Castiel waiting for Dean at the side of the highway, and Azazel poisoning Sam. With the help of the high schoolers, Sam and Dean overcome Calliope, the muse and bad guy of the episode, and save the day. What began as their lives reinterpreted and told back to them turns into a story they have some agency over.

In this episode, as opposed to “The Monster At The End Of This Book,” The storytelling has transferred from an alcoholic in a bathrobe into the hands of an overbearing and overachieving teenage girl, and honestly why not. Transformative fiction is by and large run by women, and queer women, so Marie and her stage manager slash Jody Mills’s understudy Maeve are just following in the footsteps of legends. This kind of really succinctly summarises the difference between curative fandom and transformative fandom, the former of which is populated mostly by men, and the latter mostly by women. As defined by LordByronic in 2015, Curative fandom is more like enjoying the text, collecting the merchandise, organising the knowledge — basically Reddit in terms of fandom curation. Transformative fandom is transforming the source text in some way — making fanart, fanfic, mvs, or a musical — basically Tumblr in general, and Archive of our own specifically. Like what do non fandom people even do on Tumblr? It is a complete mystery to me. Whereas Chuck literally writes himself into the narrative he receives through visions, Marie and co have agency and control over the narrative by writing it themselves. 

Chuck does appear in the episode towards the end, his first appearance after five seasons. The theory that he killed those lesbian theatre girls makes me wanna curl up and die, so I don’t subscribe to it. Chuck watched the musical and he liked it and he gave unwarranted notes and then he left, the end.

The Supernatural creative team is explicitly acknowledging the fandom’s efforts by making this episode. They’re writing us in again, with more obsessive fans, but with lethbians this time, which makes it infinitely better. And instead of showing us as potential date rapists, we’re just cool chicks who like to make art. And that’s fucken awesome. 

I just have to note that the characters literally say the word Destiel after Dean sees the actors playing Dean and Cas making out. He storms off and tells Sam to shut the fuck up when Sam makes fun of him, because Dean’s sexuality is NOT threatened he just needs to assert his dominance as a straight hetero man who has NEVER looked at another man’s lips and licked his own. He just… forgets that gay people exist until someone reminds him. BUT THEN, after a rousing speech that is stolen from Rent or Wicked or something, he echoes Marie’s words back, saying “put as much sub into that text as you possibly can.” What does Dean know about subbing, I wonder. Okay I’m suddenly reminded that he did literally go to a kink bar and get hit on by a leather daddy. Oh Dean, the experiences you have as a broad-shouldered, pixie-faced man with cowboy legs. You were born for this role.

Metatron is my favourite villain. As one tumblr user pointed out, he is an evil English literature major, which is just a normal English literature major. The season nine episode “Meta Fiction” written by my main man robbie thompson and directed by thomas j wright, happens within a curious season. Castiel, once again, becomes the leader of a portion of the heavenly host to take down Metatron, and Dean is affected by the Mark Of Cain. Sam was recently possessed by Gadreel, who killed Kevin in Sam’s body and then decided to run off with Metatron. Metatron himself is recruiting angels to join him, in the hopes that he can become the new God. It’s the first introduction of Hannah, who encourages Cas to recruit angels himself to take on Metatron. Also, we get to see Gabriel again, who is always a delight. 

This episode is a lot of fun. Metatron poses questions like, who tells a story and who is the most important person in the telling? Is it the writer? The audience? He starts off staring over his typewriter to address the camera, like a pompous dickhead. No longer content with consuming stories, he’s started to write his own. And they are hubristic ones about becoming God, a better god than Chuck ever was, but to do it he needs to kill a bunch of people and blame it on Cas. So really, he’s actually exactly like Chuck who blamed everything on Lucifer. 

But I think the most apt analogy we can use for this in terms of who is the creator is to think of Metatron as a fanfiction writer. He consumes the media—the Winchester Gospels—and starts to write his own version of events—leading an army to become God and kill Cas. Nevermind that no one has been able to kill Cas in a way that matters or a way that sticks. Which is canon, and what Metatron is trying to do is—well not fanon because it actually does impact the Winchesters’ storyline. It would be like if one of the writers of Supernatural began writing Supernatural fanfiction before they got a job on the show. Which as my generation and the generations coming after me get more comfortable with fanfiction and fandom, is going to be the case for a lot of shows. I think it’s already the case for Riverdale. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t the woman who wrote the bi Dean essay go to work on Riverdale? Or something? I dunno, I have the post saved in my tumblr likes but that is quagmire of epic proportions that I will easily get lost in if I try to find it. 

Okay let me flex my literary degree. As Englund and Leach say in “Ethnography and the metanarratives of modernity,” “The influential “literary turn,” in which the problems of ethnography were seen as largely textual and their solutions as lying in experimental writing seems to have lost its impetus.” This can be taken to mean, in the context of Supernatural, that while Metatron’s writings seek to forge a new path in history, forgoing fate for a new kind of divine intervention, the problem with Metatron is that he’s too caught up in the textual, too caught up in the writing, to be effectual. And this as we see throughout seasons 9, 10 and 11, has no lasting effect. Cas gets his grace back, Dean survives, and Metatron becomes a powerless human. In this case, the impetus is his grace, which he loses when Cas cuts it out of him, a mirror to Metatron cutting out Cas’s grace. 

However, I realise that the concept of ethnography in Supernatural is a flawed one, ethnography being the observation of another culture: a lot of the angels observe humanity and seem to fit in. However, Cas has to slowly acclimatise to the Winchesters as they tame him, but he never quite fit in—missing cues, not understanding jokes or Dean’s personal space, the scene where he says, “We have a guinea pig? Where?” Show him the guinea pig Sam!!! He wants to see it!!! At most he passes as a human with autism. Cas doesn’t really observe humanity—he observes nature, as seen in season 7 “reading is fundamental” and “survival of the fittest”. Even the human acts he talks about in season 6 “the man who would be king” are from hundreds or thousands of years ago. He certainly doesn’t observe popular culture, which puts him at odds with Dean, who is made up of 90 per cent pop culture references and 10 per cent flannel. Metatron doesn’t seek to blend in with humanity so much as control it, which actually is the most apt example of ethnography for white people in the last—you know, forever. But of course the writers didn’t seek to make this analogy. It is purely by chance, and maybe I’m the only person insane enough to realise it. But probably not. There are a lot of cookies much smarter than me in the Supernatural fandom and they’ve like me have grown up and gone to university and gotten real jobs in the real world and real haircuts. I’m probably the only person to apply Englund and Leach to it though.

And yes, as I read this paper I did need to have one tab open on Google, with the word “define” in the search bar. 

Metatron has a few lines in this that I really like. He says: 

“The universe is made up of stories, not atoms.”

“You’re going to have to follow my script.”

“I’m an entity of my word.”

It’s really obvious, but they’re pushing the idea that Metatron has become an agent of authorship instead of just a consumer of media. He even throws a Supernatural book into his fire — a symbolic act of burning the script and flipping the writer off, much like Cas did to God and the angels in season 5. He’s not a Kripke figure so much as maybe a Gamble, Carver or Dabb figure, in that he usurps Chuck and becomes the author-god. This would be extremely postmodern of him if he didn’t just do exactly what Chuck was doing, except worse somehow. In fact, it’s postmodern of Cas to reject heaven’s narrative and fall for Dean. As one tumblr user points out, Cas really said “What’s fate compared to Dean Winchester?”

Okay this transcript is almost 8000 words already, and I still have two more episodes to review, and more things to say, so I’ll leave you with this. Metatron says to Cas, “Out of all of God’s wind up toys, you’re the only one with any spunk.” Why Cas has captured his attention comes down more than anything to a process of elimination. Most angels fucking suck. They follow the rules of whoever puts themselves in charge, and they either love Cas or hate him, or just plainly wanna fuck him, and there have been few angels who stood out. Balthazar was awesome, even though I hated him the first time I watched season 6. He UNSUNK the Titanic. Legend status. And Gabriel was of course the OG who loves to fuck shit up. But they’re gone at this stage in the narrative, and Cas survives. Cas always survives. He does have spunk. And everyone wants to fuck him.  

Season 11 episode 20 “Don’t Call Me Shurley,” the last episode written by the Christ like figure of Robbie Thompson — are we sensing a theme here? — and directed by my divine enemy Robert Singer, starts with Metatron dumpster diving for food. I’m not even going to bother commenting on this because like… it’s supernatural and it treats complex issues like homelessness and poverty with zero nuance. Like the Winchesters live in poverty but it’s fun and cool because they always scrape by but Metatron lives in poverty and it’s funny. Cas was homeless and it was hard but he needed to do it to atone for his sins, and Metatron is homeless and it’s funny because he brought it on himself by being a murderous dick. Fucking hell. Robbie, come on. The plot focuses on God, also known as Chuck Shurley, making himself known to Metatron and asking for Metatron’s opinion on his memoir. Meanwhile, the Winchesters battle another bout of infectious serial killer fog sent by Amara. At the end of the episode, Chuck heals everyone affected by the fog and reveals himself to Sam and Dean. 

Chuck says that he didn’t foresee Metatron trying to become god, but the idea of Season 15 is that Chuck has been writing the Winchesters’ story all their lives. When Metatron tries, he fails miserably, is locked up in prison, tortured by Dean, then rendered useless as a human and thrown into the world without a safety net. His authorship is reduced to nothing, and he is reduced to dumpster diving for food. He does actually attempt to live his life as someone who records tragedies as they happen and sells the footage to news stations, which is honestly hilarious and amazing and completely unsurprising because Metatron is, at the heart of it, an English Literature major. In true bastard style, he insults Chuck’s work and complains about the bar, but slips into his old role of editor when Chuck asks him to. 

The theory I’m consulting for this uses the term metanarrative in a different way than I am. They consider it an overarching narrative, a grand narrative like religion. Chuck’s biography is in a sense most loyal to Middleton and Walsh’s view of metanarrative: “the universal story of the world from arche to telos, a grand narrative encompassing world history from beginning to end.” Except instead of world history, it’s God’s history, and since God is construed in Supernatural as just some guy with some powers who is as fallible as the next some guy with some powers, his story has biases and agendas.  Okay so in the analysis I’m getting Middleton and Walsh’s quotes from, James K A Smith’s “A little story about metanarratives,” Smith dunks on them pretty bad, but for Supernatural purposes their words ring true. Think of them as the BuckLeming of Lyotard’s postmodern metanarrative analysis: a stopped clock right twice a day. Is anyone except me understanding the sequence of words I’m saying right now. Do I just have the most specific case of brain worms ever found in human history. I’m currently wearing my oversized Keith Haring shirt and dipping pretzels into peanut butter because it’s 3.18 in the morning and the homosexuals got to me. The total claims a comprehensive metanarrative of world history make do indeed, as Middleton and Walsh claim, lead to violence, stay with me here, because Chuck’s legacy is violence, and so is Metatron’s, and in trying to reject the metanarrative, Sam and Dean enact violence. Mostly Dean, because in season 15 he sacrifices his own son twice to defeat Chuck. But that means literally fighting violence with violence. Violence is, after all, all they know. Violence is the lens through which they interact with the world. If the writers wanted to do literally anything else, they could have continued Dean’s natural character progression into someone who eschews the violence that stems from intergeneration trauma — yes I will continue to use the phrase intergenerational trauma whenever I refer to Dean — and becomes a loving father and husband. Sam could eschew violence and start a monster rehabilitation centre with Eileen.

This episode of Holy Hell is me frantically grabbing at straws to make sense of a narrative that actively hates me and wants to kick me to death. But the violence Sam and Dean enact is not at a metanarrative level, because they are not author-gods of their own narrative. In season 15 “Atomic Monsters,” Becky points out that the ending of the Supernatural book series is bad because the brothers die, and then, in a shocking twist of fate, Dean does die, and the narrative is bad. The writers set themselves a goal post to kick through and instead just slammed their heat into the bars. They set up the dartboard and were like, let’s aim the darts at ourselves. Wouldn’t that be fun. Season 15’s writing is so grossly incompetent that I believe every single conspiracy theory that’s come out of the finale since November, because it’s so much more compelling than whatever the fuck happened on the road so far. Carry on? Why yes, I think I will carry on, carry on like a pork chop, screaming at the bars of my enclosure until I crack my voice open like an egg and spill out all my rage and frustration. The world will never know peace again. It’s now 3.29 and I’ve written over 9000 words of this transcript. And I’m not done.

Middleton and Walsh claim that metanarratives are merely social constructions masquerading as universal truths. Which is, exactly, Supernatural. The creators have constructed this elaborate web of narrative that they want to sell us as the be all and end all. They won’t let the actors discuss how they really feel about the finale. They won’t let Misha Collins talk about Destiel. They want us to believe it was good, actually, that Dean, a recovering alcoholic with a 30 year old infant son and a husband who loves him, deserved to die by getting NAILED, while Sam, who spent the last four seasons, the entirety of Andrew Dabb’s run as showrunner, excelling at creating a hunter network and romancing both the queen of hell and his deaf hunter girlfriend, should have lived a normie life with a normie faceless wife. Am I done? Not even close. I started this episode and I’m going to finish it.

When we find out that Chuck is God in the episode of season 11, it turns everything we knew about Chuck on its head. We find out in Season 15 that Chuck has been writing the Winchesters’ story all along, that everything that happened to them is his doing. The one thing he couldn’t control was Cas’s choice to rebel. If we take him at his word, Cas is the only true force of free will in the entire universe, and more specifically, the love that Cas had for Dean which caused him to rebel and fall from heaven. — This theory has holes of course. Why would Lucifer torture Lilith into becoming the first demon if he didn’t have free will? Did Chuck make him do that? And why? So that Chuck could be the hero and Lucifer the bad guy, like Lucifer claimed all along? That’s to say nothing of Adam and Eve, both characters the show introduced in different ways, one as an antagonist and the other as the narrative foil to Dean and Cas’s romance. Thinking about it makes my head hurt, so I’m just not gunna. 

So Chuck was doing the writing all along. And as Becky claims in “Atomic Monsters,” it’s bad writing. The writers explicitly said, the ending Chuck wrote is bad because there’s no Cas and everyone dies, and then they wrote an ending where there is no Cas and everyone dies. So talk about self-fulfilling prophecies. Talk about giant craters in the earth you could see from 800 kilometres away but you still fell into. Meanwhile fan writers have the opportunity to write a million different endings, all of which satisfy at least one person. The fandom is a hydra, prolific and unstoppable, and we’ll keep rewriting the ending a million more times.

And all this is not even talking about the fact that Chuck is a man, Metatron is a man, Sam and Dean and Cas are men, and the writers and directors of the show are, by an overwhelming majority, men. Most of them are white, straight, cis men. Feminist scholarship has done a lot to unpack the damage done by paternalistic approaches to theory, sociology, ethnography, all the -ys, but I propose we go a step further with these men. Kill them. Metanarratively, of course. Amara, the Darkness, God’s sister, had a chance to write her own story without Chuck, after killing everything in the universe, and I think she had the right idea. Knock it all down to build it from the ground up. Billie also had the opportunity to write a narrative, but her folly was, of course, putting any kind of faith in the Winchesters who are also grossly incompetent and often fail up. She is, as all author-gods on this show are, undone by Castiel. The only one with any spunk, the only one who exists outside of his own narrative confines, the only one the author-gods don’t have any control over. The one who died for love, and in dying, gave life. 

The French Mistake

Let’s change the channel. Let’s calm ourselves and cleanse our libras. Let’s commune with nature and chug some sage bongs. 

“The French Mistake” is a song from the Mel Brooks film Blazing Saddles. In the iconic second last scene of the film, as the cowboys fight amongst themselves, the camera pans back to reveal a studio lot and a door through which a chorus of gay dancersingers perform “the French Mistake”. The lyrics go, “Throw out your hands, stick out your tush, hands on your hips, give ‘em a push. You’ll be surprised you’re doing the French Mistake.” 

I’m not sure what went through the heads of the Supernatural creators when they came up with the season 6 episode, “The French Mistake,” written by the love of my life Ben Edlund and directed by some guy Charles Beeson. Just reading the Wikipedia summary is so batshit incomprehensible. In short: Balthazar sends Sam and Dean to an alternate universe where they are the actors Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles, who play Sam and Dean on the tv show Supernatural. I don’t think this had ever been done in television history before. The first seven seasons of this show are certifiable. Like this was ten years ago. Think about the things that have happened in the last 10 slutty, slutty years. We have lived through atrocities and upheaval and the entire world stopping to mourn, but also we had twitter throughout that entire time, which makes it infinitely worse.

In this universe, Sam and Dean wear makeup, Cas is played by attractive crying man Misha Collins, and Genevieve Padalecki nee Cortese makes an appearance. Magic doesn’t exist, Serge has good ideas, and the two leads have to act in order to get through the day. Sorry man I do not know how to pronounce your name.

Sidenote: I don’t know if me being attracted aesthetically to Misha Collins is because he’s attractive, because this show has gaslighted me into thinking he’s attractive, or because Castiel’s iconic entrance in 2008 hit my developing mind like a torpedo full of spaghetti and blew my fucking brains all over the place. It’s one of life’s little mysteries and God’s little gifts.

Let’s talk about therapy. More specifically, “Agency and purpose in narrative therapy: questioning the postmodern rejection of metanarrative” by Cameron Lee. In this paper, Lee outlines four key ideas as proposed by Freedman and Combs:

Realities are socially constructed

Realities are constituted through language

Realities are organised and maintained through narrative

And there are no essential truths.

Let’s break this down in the case of this episode. Realities are socially constructed: the reality of Sam and Dean arose from the Bush era. Do I even need to elaborate? From what I understand with my limited Australian perception, and being a child at the time, 9/11 really was a prominent shifting point in the last twenty years. As Americans describe it, sometimes jokingly, it was the last time they were really truly innocent. That means to me that until they saw the repercussions of their government’s actions in funding turf wars throughout the middle east for a good chunk of the 20th Century, they allowed themselves to be hindered by their own ignorance. The threat of terrorism ran rampant throughout the States, spurred on by right wing nationalists and gun-toting NRA supporters, so it’s really no surprise that the show Supernatural started with the premise of killing everything in sight and driving around with only your closest kin and a trunk full of guns. Kripke constructed that reality from the social-political climate of the time, and it has wrought untold horrors on the minds of lesbians who lived through the noughties, in that we are now attracted to Misha Collins.

Number two: Realities are constituted through language. Before a show can become a show, it needs to be a script. It’s written down, typed up, and given to actors who say the lines out loud. In this respect, they are using the language of speech and words to convey meaning. But tv shows are not all about words, and they’re barely about scripts. From what I understand of being raised by television, they are about action, visuals, imagery, and behaviours. All of the work that goes into them—the scripts, the lighting, the audio, the sound mixing, the cameras, the extras, the ADs, the gaffing, the props, the stunts, everything—is about conveying a story through the medium of images. In that way, images are the language. The reality of the show Supernatural, inside the show Supernatural, is constituted through words: the script, the journalists talking to Sam, the makeup artist taking off Dean’s makeup, the conversations between the creators, the tweets Misha sends. But also through imagery: the fish tank in Jensen’s trailer, the model poses on the front cover of the magazine, the opulence of Jared’s house, Misha’s iconic sweater. Words and images are the language that constitutes both of these realities. Okay for real, I feel like I’ve only seen this episode max three times, including when I watched it for research for this episode, but I remember so much about it. 

Number three: realities are organised and maintained through narrative. In this universe of the French Mistake, their lives are structured around two narratives: the internal narrative of the show within the show, in which they are two actors on a tv set; and the episode narrative in which they need to keep the key safe and return to their own universe. This is made difficult by the revelation that magic doesn’t work in this universe, however, they find a way. Before they can get back, though, an avenging angel by the name of Virgil guns down author-god Eric Kripke and tries to kill the Winchesters. However, they are saved by Balthazar and the freeze frame and brought back into their own world, the world of Supernatural the show, not Supernatural the show within the show within the nesting doll. And then that reality is done with, never to be revisited or even mentioned, but with an impact that has lasted longer than the second Bush administration.

And number four: there are no essential truths. This one is a bit tricky because I can’t find what Lee means by essential truths, so I’m just going to interpret that. To me, essential truths means what lies beneath the narratives we tell ourselves. Supernatural was a show that ran for 15 years. Supernatural had actors. Supernatural was showrun by four different writers. In the show within a show, there is nothing, because that ceases to exist for longer than the forty two minute episode “The French Mistake”. And since Supernatural no longer exists except in our computers, it is nothing too. It is only the narratives we tell ourselves to sleep better at night, to wake up in the morning with a smile, to get through the day, to connect with other people, to understand ourselves better. It’s not even the narrative that the showrunners told, because they have no agency over it as soon as it shows up on our screens. The essential truth of the show is lost in the translation from creating to consuming. Who gives the story meaning? The people watching it and the people creating it. We all do. 

Lee says that humans are predisposed to construct narratives in order to make sense of the world. We see this in cultures from all over the world: from cave paintings to vases, from The Dreaming to Beowulf, humans have always constructed stories. The way you think about yourself is a story that you’ve constructed. The way you interact with your loved ones and the furries you rightfully cyberbully on Twitter is influenced by the narratives you tell yourself about them. And these narratives are intricate, expansive, personalised, and can colour our perceptions completely, so that we turn into a different person when we interact with one person as opposed to another. 

Whatever happened in season 6, most of which I want to forget, doesn’t interest me in the way I’m telling myself the writers intended. For me, the entirety of season 6 was based around the premise of Cas being in love with Dean, and the complete impotence of this love. He turns up when Dean calls, he agonises as he watches Dean rake leaves and live his apple pie life with Lisa, and Dean is the person he feels most horribly about betraying. He says, verbatim, to Sam, “Dean and I do share a more profound bond.” And Balthazar says, “You’re confusing me with the other angel, the one in the dirty trenchcoat who’s in love with you.” He says this in season 6, and we couldn’t do a fucken thing about it. 

The song “The French Mistake” shines a light on the hidden scene of gay men performing a gay narrative, in the midst of a scene about the manliest profession you can have: professional horse wrangler, poncho wearer, and rodeo meister, the cowboy. If this isn’t a perfect encapsulation of the lovestory between Dean and Cas, which Ben Edlund has been championing from day fucking one of Misha Collins walking onto that set with his sex hair and chapped lips, then I don’t know what the fuck we’re even doing here. What in the hell else could it possibly mean. The layers to this. The intricacy. The agendas. The subtextual AND blatant queerness. The micro aggressions Crowley aimed at Car in “The Man Who Would Be King,” another Bedlund special. Bed Edlund is a fucking genius. Bed Edlund is cool girl. Ben Edlund is the missing link. Bed Edlund IS wikileaks. Ben Edlund is a cool breeze on a humid summer day. Ben Edlund is the stop loading button on a browser tab. Ben Edlund is the perfect cross between Spotify and Apple Music, in which you can search for good playlists, but without having to be on Spotify. He can take my keys and fuck my wife. You best believe I’m doing an entire episode of Holy Hell on Bedlund’s top five. He is the reason I want to get into staffwriting on a tv show. I saw season 4 episode “On the head of a pin” when my brain was still torpedoed spaghetti mush from the premiere, and it nestled its way deep into my exposed bones, so that when I finally recovered from that, I was a changed person. My god, this transcript is 11,000 words, and I haven’t even finished the Becky section. Which is a good transition.

Oh, Becky. She is an incarnation of how the writers, or at least Kripke, view the fans. Watching season 5 “Sympathy for the Devil” live in 2009 was a whole fucking trip that I as a baby gay was not prepared for. Figuring out my sexuality was a journey that started with the Supernatural fandom and is in some aspects still raging against the dying of the light today. Add to that, this conception of the audience was this, like, personification of the librarian cellist from Juno, but also completely without boundaries, common sense, or shame. It made me wonder about my position in the narrative as a consumer consuming. Is that how Kripke saw me, specifically? Was I like Becky? Did my forays into DeanCasNatural on El Jay dot com make me a fucking loser whose only claim to fame is writing some nasty fanfiction that I’ve since deleted all traces of? Don’t get me wrong, me and my unhinged Casgirl friends loved Becky. I can’t remember if I ever wrote any fanfiction with her in it because I was mostly writing smut, which is extremely Becky coded of me, but I read some and my friends and I would always chat about her when she came up. She was great entertainment value before season 7. But in the eyes of the powers that be, Becky, like the fans themselves, are expendable. First they turned her into a desperate bride wannabe who drugs Sam so that he’ll be with her, then Chuck waves his hand and she disappears. We’re seeing now with regards to Destiel, Cas, and Misha Collins this erasure of them from the narrative. Becky says in season 15 “Atomic Monsters” that the ending Chuck writes is bad because, for one, there’s no Cas, and that’s exactly what’s happening to the text post-finale. It literally makes me insane akin to the throes of mania to think about the layers of this. They literally said, “No Cas = bad” and now Misha isn’t even allowed to talk in his Cassona voice—at least at the time I wrote that—to the detriment of the fans who care about him. It’s the same shit over and over. They introduce something we like, they realise they have no control over how much we like it, and then they pretend they never introduced it in the first place. Season 7, my god. The only reason Gamble brought back Cas was because the ratings were tanking the show. I didn’t even bother watching most of it live, and would just hear from my friends whether Cas was in the episodes or not. And then Sera, dear Sera, had the gall to say it was a Homer’s Odyssey narrative. I’m rusty on Homer aka I’ve never read it but apparently Odysseus goes away, ends up with a wife on an island somewhere, and then comes back to Terabithia like it never happened. How convenient. But since Sera Gamble loves to bury her gays, we can all guess why Cas was written out of the show: Cas being gay is a threat to the toxic heteronormativity spouted by both the show and the characters themselves. In season 15, after Becky gets her life together, has kids, gets married, and starts a business, she is outgrowing the narrative and Chuck kills her. The fans got Destiel Wedding trending on Twitter, and now the creators are acting like he doesn’t exist. New liver, same eagles.

I have to add an adendum: as of this morning, Sunday 11th, don’t ask me what time that is in Americaland, Misha Collins did an online con/Q&A thing and answered a bunch of questions about Cas and Dean, which goes to show that he cannot be silenced. So the narrative wants to be told. It’s continuing well into it’s 16th or 17th season. It’s going to keep happening and they have no recourse to stop it. So fuck you, Supernatural.

I did write the start of a speech about representation but, who the holy hell cares. I also read some disappointing Masters theses that I hope didn’t take them longer to research and write than this episode of a podcast I’m making for funsies took me, considering it’s the same number of pages. Then again I have the last four months and another 8 years of fandom fuelling my obsession, and when I don’t sleep I write, hence the 4,000 words I knocked out in the last 12 hours. 

Some final words. Lyotard defines postmodernism, the age we live in, as an incredulity towards metanarratives. Modernism was obsessed with order and meaning, but postmodernism seeks to disrupt that. Modernists lived within the frame of the narrative of their society, but postmodernists seek to destroy the frame and live within our own self-written contexts. Okay I love postmodernist theory so this has been a real treat for me. Yoghurt, Sam? Postmodernist theory? Could I BE more gay? 

Middleton and Walsh in their analysis of postmodernism claim that biblical faith is grounded in metanarrative, and explore how this intersects with an era that rejects metanarrative. This is one of the fundamental ideas Supernatural is getting at throughout definitely the last season, but other seasons as well. The narratives of Good vs Evil, Michael vs Lucifer, Dean vs Sam, were encoded into the overarching story of the show from season 1, and since then Sam and Dean have sought to break free of them. Sam broke free of John’s narrative, which was the hunting life, and revenge, and this moralistic machismo that they wrapped themselves up in. If they’re killing the evil, then they’re not the evil. That’s the story they told, and the impetus of the show that Sam was sucked back into. But this thread unravelled in later seasons when Dean became friends with Benny and the idea that all supernatural creatures are inherently evil unravelled as well. While they never completely broke free of John’s hold over them, welcoming Jack into their lives meant confronting a bias that had been ingrained in them since Dean was 4 years old and Sam 6 months. In the face of the question, “are all monsters monstrous?” the narrative loosens its control. Even by questioning it, it throws into doubt the overarching narrative of John’s plan, which is usurped at the end of season 2 when they kill Azazel by Dean’s demon deal and a new narrative unfolds. John as author-god is usurped by the actual God in season 4, who has his own narrative that controls the lives of Sam, Dean and Cas. 

Okay like for real, I do actually think the metanarrativity in Supernatural is something that should be studied by someone other than me, unless you wanna pay me for it and then shit yeah. It is extremely cool to introduce a biographical narrative about the fictional narrative it’s in. It’s cool that the characters are constantly calling this narrative into focus by fighting against it, struggling to break free from their textual confines to live a life outside of the external forces that control them. And the thing is? The really real, honest thing? They have. Sam, Dean and Cas have broken free of the narrative that Kripke, Carver, Gamble and Dabb wrote for them. The very fact that the textual confession of love that Cas has for Dean ushered in a resurgence of fans, fandom and activity that has kept the show trending for five months after it ended, is just phenomenal. People have pointed out that fans stopped caring about Game of Thrones as soon as it ended. Despite the hold they had over tv watchers everywhere, their cultural currency has been spent. The opposite is true for Supernatural. Despite how the finale of the show angered and confused people, it gains more momentum every day. More fanworks, more videos, more fics, more art, more ire, more merch is being generated by the fans still. The Supernatural subreddit, which was averaging a few posts a week by season 15, has been incensed by the finale. And yours truly happily traipsed back into the fandom snake pit after 8 years with a smile on my face and a skip in my step ready to pump that dopamine straight into my veins babeeeeeeyyyyy. It’s been WILD. I recently reconnected with one of my mutuals from 2010 and it’s like nothing’s changed. We’re both still unhinged and we both still simp for Supernatural. Even before season 15, I was obsessed with the podcast Ride Or Die, which I started listening to in late 2019, and Supernatural was always in the back of my mind. You just don’t get over your first fandom. Actually, Danny Phantom was my first fandom, and I remember being 12 talking on Danny Phantom forums to people much too old to be the target audience of the show. So I guess that hasn’t left me either. And the fondest memories I have of Supernatural is how the characters have usurped their creators to become mythic, long past the point they were supposed to die a quiet death. The myth weaving that the Supernatural fandom is doing right now is the legacy that will endure. 

References

I got all of these for free from Google Scholar! 

Judith May Fathallah, “I’m A God: The Author and the Writing Fan in Supernatural.” 

James K A Smith, “A Little Story About Metanarratives: Lyotard, Religion and Postmodernism Revisited.” 2001.

Cameron Lee, “Agency and Purpose in Narrative Therapy: Questioning the Postmodern Rejection of Metanarrative.” 2004.

Harri Englund and James Leach, “Ethnography and the Meta Narratives of Modernity.” 2000.

https://uproxx.com/filmdrunk/mel-brooks-explains-french-mistake-blazing-saddles-blu-ray/

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Wonderland by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Or on FF

Tagging: @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

Note: This could have a trigger affect regarding suicide. If you or anyone you know needs help, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline1-800-273-TALK (8255) or text TALK to 741741 for 24/7, anonymous, free counseling.

Note: This chapter was inspired by the song Understanding in a Car Crash by Thursday 

Chapter 5: Understanding in a Car Crash

It’s not that Killian was not looking forward to his therapy session, in fact, that would be an understatement, but he had woken up in such a foul mood that he didn’t even want to leave his room.

“You know it’s just like detox. You’re on day 5. Reality is setting in.”

He looked over at August staring at him. “I already have a therapy session with Hopper today; I don’t need you psychoanalyzing me as well.

“Sorry, just offering some reassurance.” The man threw his hands in the air in surrender and Killian decided it would be just as bad to stay here as it would be to face Dr. Hopper’s questions.

Stepping into the courtyard he watched as Ruby left Hopper’s office. He strolled toward the tall brunette, grinning when he noticed her immediate recognition of him. She smiled and strutted in his direction.

“Hey there handsome.” She flirted.

“How was your session?”

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Eh, I talk more than I should, so I think he’s happy when I leave.”

Killian chuckled. “Got any tips for me?”

“If you want him to change the subject, talk about sex.” She giggled and ran her hand along the buttons of his jacket, fondling them with her long fingers.

“Not sure that tactic would work for me.”

“Well, if you ever need help working on that tactic, you could always practice on me.” She pressed her hand into his jacket against his chest. “Maybe after dinner tonight?”

“Tonight huh? Let me see how this session goes, I’ll think about it.”

“Ok don’t think about it too long, I happen to know that they close off the back side of the island after 5pm so, if you’re interested in exploring…” Her hands roamed toward the waist band of his jeans. “Just let me know.”

“Will do, lass.”

“Good luck.” She purred, swinging her hips as she walked away.

He pushed open the door to Hopper’s office and stepped inside. “Afternoon Killian.”

“Same day, Same Island.” He joked and settled into the couch.

“Today I want to talk more about Milah.”

“Wow right for the balls.” He grumbled.

“Why would you think that? I’m interested in what your relationship was like with your fiancé Milah. Where did you two meet?”

“Hi, I’m Milah, I’m pretty sure I’m your biggest fan.”

“Hi Milah, I’m Killian. Thanks for coming to the show tonight.”

“We uh, we met at one of my shows. She was a fan of the band.”

“When did it move from fan to dating?”

“It was pretty quick. We went out that night, it was a whirlwind courting. At least that’s what Robin says about it.”

“Did Robin like Milah?”

He laughed. “Hell no. Robin called her a gold digger.”

“Did that cause an issue with the band?”

“Rob’s a good guy. He didn’t like her but he’s my mate, so he didn’t push things, no one else would dare bring it up.”

“When did you get engaged?

“About 8 months after we started dating. I had just started filming the sequel for Neverland.”

“When was the wedding taking place.”

Killian tensed. “Um, it was going to be right after the sequel came out, but we uh, we postponed it.”

“Oh, and why was that?”

“There was a lot going on. I uh.” He stared out the window. “Milah and I were fighting a lot during filming.”

“Was Milah accepting of your lifestyle? The drugs?”

“Um yeah, she didn’t have any issues with it.”

“Did she participate?”

“You mean did I do drugs with my fiancé?”

“If that’s how you want me to ask it, yes.”

“Yes, Rob was against the drugs, its part of the reason he disliked Milah so much.”

“Was she high the night of the accident?”

Killian rubbed his palms on his jeans. “No, she wasn’t doing drugs because of the baby.”

“How far along was she?”

“Six months. Doctor said the baby was the size of a mango, so I had just started calling her mango, you know at nights. I always thought it was funny they compared a babe to fruit.”

“But you were still using, while she was pregnant?”

He stared out the window. “Uh yeah. Like I said, there was a lot going on with the baby, I was away a lot because of filming, and when she was with me on set, I felt like she wasn’t really there for me.”

“Were you using the night of the accident?”

“I wasn’t high. I’d had a few drinks, that’s all.”

“Can you remember how many?”

“No, like I said, it was a few.”

“The accident report doesn’t mention driving under the influence, just that rain was a factor.”

“I was bleeding out when they got there, they rushed me into surgery, guess I got lucky I was in shock, so they didn’t think to test.”

“Do you remember the accident?”

Killian glanced at the ceiling. “I uh, not really.”

“Let me the hell out of this car.”

“So, you can run back to him?”

“I want out.”

“Don’t you fucking open that door.”

“Killian, look out.”

“What do you remember?”

“Um, it was raining. I guess I hit a truck. Totaled my car. I remember the ambulance coming.” His voice trailed off, his squeezed his eyes shut.

“The report said that Milah died on contact. Did you know before you went to the hospital?”

He felt a stray tear roll down his cheek. “I…I don’t know. I um, I guess I was in shock. They made me let go of her.”

“Were you aware of your own injury?”

“No.”

“How does it make you feel, knowing what happened that night?”

“How the fuck do you think it makes me feel? Why would you even ask that? It felt like shit! Is that what you want to hear? It was the worst day of my damned life and no matter what I do, no matter how long I spend on this island, none of that is going to make it right. Nothing can fix the fact that I killed her. I killed them both.”

He buried his face in his palm, sobbing.

“Killian, I think it’s important to note that even though nothing you do will ever bring back Milah or the baby, it is important to remember that you didn’t die that night with them. You are still here. Only you can decide how to move forward.”

“And if I don’t want to move forward? Then what Doc? Because I’m good where I am.”

“You’re not really trying to tell me that you’re happy like this?”

“Happy? I don’t bloody deserve happy.”

“Killian, giving in to one’s dark side never accomplishes anything.”

“It’s the only part of me that I have left. “

“If you can't let go of the past... it's doomed to haunt you.”

Killian glared at the man, wiping at the tears in his eyes. He knew he was right, but he also knew he deserved to be haunted for what he did. He was lucky he didn’t get put away for the rest of his life. One simple error of not testing his blood alcohol before surgery and he escaped punishment from the law.

But you never really escape reality.

“How can I help you? Do you want to tell me your name?”

“I dunno, maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

“I’m here to listen, if you just want to talk.”

“…It should have been me.”

“What should have been you?”

“I should have died, not her.”

“Do you have a family member you can talk to?”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want the pain to end.”

“Have you thought about hurting yourself?”

“I…uh…yes. I have a gun.”

“Can we stop for today?” Killian pleaded with the man.

“Absolutely. You did good today.”

Killian smiled softly before leaving him and headed back toward his room. He had not expected to go into such detail in therapy. He was both pleasantly surprised and mildly annoyed that the therapist was so good at digging information from people who didn’t want to share any.

He lazily wondered if the blonde lass had lifted any of her burden with the man and then immediately chided himself for giving a damn about a woman who clearly wanted nothing to do with him, regardless of what the kiss under the pier meant.

He stumbled into the dining hall, his roommate waving him toward a table.

“You eat yet?”

“No, just left Hopper’s.”

“Awesome, we just sat down, grab some food.”

He turned toward the dining line when Will yelled to him. “Don’t eat whatever it is she’s calling the daily special.” He turned away from him and then yelled again. “And don’t get #4 either.”

“Aye, no daily Special, avoid #4.” He continued to mutter the words over and over to himself as he approached the crazy red haired fitness instructor.

“Well, hello there Killian, can I suggest the daily special?”

“Well, lass, that depends on what makes it special?” He joked.

“Quinoa.” She beamed.

“Keen what?”

“It’s a grain that’s very high in fiber, protein, and gluten free.”

“I’ll stick to the things I know. #5 please.”

“Oh, fine but come back when you decide to stop listening to your friends and want to try something healthier.” She turned to her left. “What can I get you Emma?”

He froze before peering to his left at the girl standing beside him, the one who was currently avoiding his gaze.

“Might I suggest the Quinoa?” He offered with a wink toward Zelena.

Her eyes narrowed but she did not look at him. “I’ll have the Grilled cheese please. With onion rings.”

“None of that is healthy. I hope you know that. You’ll need to do an extra spin class this week just to work that off.”

The girl shrugged. “Worth it.”

When Zelena left to get their food, he turned to face Emma. “Swan, are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you.” She continued to stare straight ahead.

He leaned forward and then stepped in front of her, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t tell me you’re not avoiding me, because I’m actually quite perceptive.” He pointed his finger at her and then back at himself. “And this…this is avoiding me.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped around him, grabbing her food. “I don’t even know you well enough to be avoiding you.”

He leaned in closer to her face, “We could change that.” He breathed against her ear. “Care for another distraction?”

“Give me one good reason not to punch you in the face.”

“And ruin this devilishly handsome face, admit it, you want all of this.”

“If you were the last man on this island, I would still say no.” She growled and he was immediately irritated with his own disappointment.

“If the lady insists.” He grabbed his tray and stepped beside her, walking back to his table, joining Will and August.

“You keep messing with that one and you’re gonna get bit.” August gestured toward Emma.

“Her bark is worse than her bite, gents.” He mused, peering over August’s shoulder to observe the girl. She was currently laughing with Ruby, her head tilted back before he heard a distinct snort.

“I know someone else who seems interested in her bite.” Will pointed his fork in the direction of the door. Killian turned his head to see Jefferson walk into the cafeteria and beeline directly for Emma’s table. He felt his jaw tense as the man sat down next to Emma and nudged her with his shoulder. Emma gave him a bright smile and he groaned and shoved another bite of food into his mouth.

He heard another shrill laugh from the other side of the room, and he grumbled.

“Don’t think that lass has laughed so much since she got here. Gotta give it to the bloke for being able to do that.” Will nodded.

Killian slammed his fork down onto the table and stood from his seat, striding immediately to their table. Emma glanced up as she saw him approaching and he broke eye contact, sitting down next to Ruby.

“Killian.” The dark-haired lass perked up when he reached out and touched her knee. He leaned closer to her, staring into her dark eyes.

“I’m in, love. Meet you at 7?” Her eyes widened and her fingernails traveled from his knee upwards on his thigh under the table. He winked at her and then stood from the table, avoiding the dumbfounded look from Emma, before he turned and walked away, a smirk growing on his face.

He took the long way around the island on his way back to his room, taking in the view on the beach and trying to clear his mind from all the activities of the day. The session with Archie had affected him more than he was willing to admit. He had not spoken of the accident to anyone prior to today.

So much had been written about him in the press after Milah had died. Rumors had swirled about Milah and his co-star being in a torrid affair, though no one was able to confirm any truth to it. Killian had always denied the allegations, thankfully his bastard of a co-star refused to comment.

Killian had known that Milah had an affair with the man, he remembered the day he came home early to the sounds of passion in his bedroom. It had broken his heart, but nothing had prepared him when he found the wallet on the floor and identified the other party that was currently bringing out the moans of passion from his fiancé.

Everyone on set knew the truth, especially after a heated confrontation during a scene where Killian had tossed the asshole overboard. He tried to claim he was simply improvising, but the tension remained with everyone on the crew anytime they had a scene together.

Killian had confronted Milah days later only to have her deny that any such deceit had happened. He punched a hole through their bedroom wall that night. Milah cowering in the bathroom and swearing she had always been faithful to him.

His drinking increased from casual to nightly after the incident. Milah’s pregnancy announcement only causing him to spiral further into his use of drugs as a coping mechanism. She continued to swear there was no one else but him but he knew the timing of her pregnancy meant that it was possible the child was not his.

The papers wrote glowing articles about a man at the top of his celebrity prime who lost his fiancé and his hand in a terrible accident on a dark and rainy road. Fans sent him cards and set up memorials in front of their home. It became too much to bear knowing the truth of that night. Killian couldn’t stand to even look at his own face in the mirror.

“Hey, you wanna head to the gym?” Killian peered up to see his roommate poke his head into the doorway. “Will and I are gonna work out for a bit.”

He looked at his watch and realized if he wanted to get to the other side of the island by 7pm he would need to leave now. “Nah, I’ve got plans.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Plans? Care to share?”

“Nope.”

“Stay out of trouble man, you’ve almost made it a week.”

“Sure thing pop.” He joked and pushed past him.

“It’s your funeral.” He heard the man yell as he left, heading toward the beach. As he crossed through the courtyard his eye was drawn to the couple sitting on the grass under one of the palm trees. Blonde hair blowing in the breeze. He slowed his steps, observing as she sat next to Jefferson, her head dropping back a few times to laugh at something he said. He felt an irrational anger when his hand brushed against her hand, he wore a simple smile but one that clearly showed an affection for the girl.

He turned toward them suddenly, clearly his feet had stopped consulting his brain. He crossed in front of the couple, purposely tripping over Jefferson’s shoes.

“Sorry bout that.” He said dryly. “Didn’t see you there, Mate.”

Two pairs of eyes stared at him. “You expect me to believe that you couldn’t see two people sitting in the middle of the grass?” She quipped.

“Contrary to what you may assume, I’m not always paying attention to your every location, love.”

Her mouth dropped. “I wasn’t, I never, I…”

His eyebrow raised as he waited for her to pull together her thoughts, the smirk growing across his lips. When she stopped puckering like a fish, he interrupted. “Lass, I haven’t the time, if you’ll excuse me, I have places to be.” He winked and then his feet carried him away from the fuming blonde.

His feet hit sand and he made his way quickly to the back of the island, trying to remove the image of Emma with Jefferson. He was infuriated at how light and unencumbered Emma seemed with the man. Someone who he thought was literally quite mad. Why was she able to relax and enjoy Jefferson’s company while being completely hostile towards him?

“You made it.” A voice whispered and then he felt fingers grasp him by the shirt. “I wasn’t sure if you would come.”

“Of course, lass, I said I would, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

She pressed up against him, her lips connecting with his neck. “Enough words.” She whispered, hot against his ear.

“Impatient, are we?” He laughed nervously, closing his eyes, and connecting his lips to hers. He slid across her mouth like silk, their tongues clashing together. He backed her up against the building they were hiding behind and she groaned at the aggressive contact. Her hands traveled down his chest and her felt her fingers tugging at the button of his jeans. Pulling back, he smirked. “Now lass, let’s not rush things.”

Her lips pouted. “Hard to get. I can work with that.”

He grabbed her hand in his and pulled it back to his shoulder, returning his lips to hers. She grinded her hips into him and he groaned into her mouth. He ran his hand down her back, resting along the supple curve of her ass.

She ran a hand over his jeans, his cock reacting to the attention. He cursed his active mind that was currently in direct competition with his body.

“Killian, I love you.”

“Milah, baby.”

He moaned, trying to clear the movie playing in his thoughts. Milah laid out underneath of him, her breasts highlighted by the moonlight in their bedroom, looking up at her from his place between her legs.

He grabbed Ruby around the waist and drug her with him to the sandy floor beneath them, running his fingers beneath her shirt and exploring the crevice under her breast.

He pinched her nipple and she cried out in delight. He pressed his mouth to her stomach, enjoying the pleasurable sounds she was making when the picture changed back to his room again.

“Killian, please touch me.”

His gaze drifted up and he was met with hooded green eyes that were praising his attention. His eyes blew open. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

“What’s wrong?” Ruby’s head lifted from the ground, peering in the dark in search for his eyes.

He returned his lips to her stomach when his thoughts were invaded by blonde hair, head tilted back, mouth open in a breathy moan. “Fuck.” He sat up quickly. Confused and angered by this new turn of events. His thoughts had always drifted to Milah during sexual encounters, he had become used to it, almost welcomed it at times. Ever since the accident, he had been unable to come to completion in any sexual situation without falling apart to the memory of Milah’s face. How could this woman steal away the last thing he had of his Milah?

“You ok?”

“Of course, dear. I just, it’s been a while.” He shrugged. “I supposed I’m a bit rusty.”

“Oh. I’m…”

“It’s not you, love. You are absolutely gorgeous and amazing. I just, perhaps I’m not as ready as my body is willing. This week has been a bit of a challenge.”

She frowned but her expression remained soft and understanding. “It’s ok. No rush, right?”

“Thank you. If you don’t mind keeping this between us, I would greatly appreciate it. Would hate for my reputation to be sullied.” He winked.

“Just promise me that if anything changes, you’ll come find me.”

He smiled and stood, dragging her up with him. “Allow me to escort you home.” He held out his elbow and she wrapped her arm in his. He was thankful she did not engage him in conversation the rest of the way, he was unsure if he would be able to mask the discomfort or confusion that was at war in his mind.

[fanficshiddles]

Caught in his web, Chapter 29

Loki looked down in disgust at the man who was grovelling at his feet, clinging onto his trousers as he wept and begged for his life.

‘Please, Mr Laufeyson. Please. I will do anything. I have a family to support. Please, please.’

Loki rolled his eyes and looked at Ethan and Samuel, who moved in and hauled the man away from Loki. They held him back, on his knees.

Loki stood up and strolled over towards the pathetic man and circled him. ‘Begging and crying like that will get you nowhere, Matt. As you know, I am a fair man. And I feel I have been more than fair with you, have I not?’ He came to a stop on front of him.

‘Y… yes… You have.’ Matt whimpered.

Loki crouched down and clasped his hands together. ‘So why do you think I should be even more lenient with you, after all the help and extra time I’ve already given you?’

‘Because… because…’

‘Because…?’ Loki asked in a condescending tone, raising an eyebrow as he waited for his answer. ‘See, you can’t even think of a reason why I should give you more time. Because you know I’ve been fair enough so far.’ Loki stood up and walked over to his desk, opening a drawer.

David and Ben were sitting at the side, watching. They shared a look with one another when Loki pulled out a dagger.

Matt tried struggling but Ethan and Samuel held him steady as Loki walked slowly and menacingly back towards him.

‘You have ten seconds to give me a damn good reason why I shouldn’t dispose of you right now.’ Loki said as he spun the dagger up in the air and caught it. Then started to move behind him while counting. ‘One… Two…’

‘Please. My family! My kids and wife. I can’t leave them, please.’ He sobbed.

‘Three… I said a good reason.’ Loki growled, towering over behind him.

Matt started to panic now. ‘I will pay back double next year!’

‘Four.’

‘I know the owner of a seafood restaurant down by the river, I can get you free meals for life!’

‘Five.’

‘I don’t like seafood.’ Ben commented, making David chuckle.

‘Six.’ Loki moved in on Matt, grabbing his hair tightly he forced his head right back so his neck was exposed, he placed the sharp blade against his throat.

‘PLEASE! PLEASE!’

‘Seven.’ Loki held him tightly as he started to really thrash around.

‘My wife has cancer! The money was for her treatment!’ He cried.

Loki paused for a moment. ‘Eight.’

‘Please! They need me to work, or they won’t be able to pay their bills.’ He cried.

‘You didn’t pay me back, Matt. I cannot let you go, as unfortunate as it is. What kind of example would that be to others?’

‘Please, I’ He was cut off when Loki slit his throat.

‘Nine, ten.’ Loki stood up and stepped away from his body as he fell forward to the floor with a thud. His blood pooling around him.

Ethan and Samuel moved in straight away to clean up. Loki strolled over to his desk as he pulled a napkin from his pocket to clean his dagger.

‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with your food?’ Ben grinned.

Loki chuckled. ‘Where would the fun be in killing him instantly? It’s nice to see them squirm.’

‘Why do you not use your gun? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use it before. It’s much less messy and quicker than a knife or a dagger.’ David asked.

‘I prefer to get up close and personal, a gun makes it feel so… boring and cold. With a dagger you can feel the resistance in their body as you force it into them.’ Loki grinned wickedly as he finished cleaning his dagger.

‘On that delightful note, I better get going.’ Ben said, standing up. ‘Thanks for your help, Loki.’ He shook Loki’s hand.

‘Anytime. See you soon.’

Ben said bye to David then headed out.

‘I just need to make a quick call.’ Loki said to David, who nodded.

Loki called James. ‘James, it’s Loki. Find out what kind of treatment Matt Simpson’s wife is receiving. If she needs money, make sure she gets whatever she needs. Also make sure her mortgage gets paid off and there’s no outstanding debt… Oh, and put a few grand into a college fund for all her kids.’

‘Sure thing, boss.’ James said, taking note without asking any questions.

‘Cheers.’ Loki hung up and turned to David.

‘That was nice of you. Surely Matt has now cost you an awful lot?’ David asked.

‘Perhaps. But got to put good into the community, haven’t I?’ Loki smirked.

‘True.’ David nodded.

Loki’s phone pinged and he checked it. He smiled when he saw it was from Chloe.

‘Do you like pasta?’ He asked David.

‘I do. Why?’

‘I discovered last week that Chloe makes a fantastic chicken carbonara. She’s just asked if I will be home for dinner as she is planning to make it again. Fancy joining us?’ Loki asked.

‘Sure, that would be great.’ David nodded.

Since Chloe had made him the pasta last week for the first time, he had been desperate to have it again. So he was secretly delighted that she offered already.

-

Chloe felt a bit nervous when Loki text back saying that David would be joining too, so asked if there would be enough for the three of them.

Of course, she had said she would make enough, but part of her was regretting that she had text Loki in the first place about dinner.

But she was pleasantly surprised when they returned and she got to know David a bit better during dinner. He was actually really nice and charming, Loki seemed nice and easy with him too, so she knew that he was safe to be around.

‘That was absolutely delicious, thank you very much, darling.’ David said, wiping his mouth.

‘You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.’ Chloe said happily.

Loki moaned and sat back on his chair. ‘It certainly was. That’s my new favourite meal, definitely.’

‘You’re just saying that.’ Chloe giggled.

‘No, honestly. I actually think it might be better than sex.’

Chloe almost choked on her drink and David chuckled. ‘I never thought you’d say that food was better than sex.’ David teased.

‘Well, maybe not quite better than sex.’ Loki looked at Chloe and winked, making her blush.

David rolled his eyes and looked at Chloe. ‘You’re lucky, I’ve had to put up with him for years!’

Chloe laughed. ‘How long have you known each other?’

She knew that out of all the men she had met, who were his supposed business partners, that there seemed to be more of a friendship between Loki and David.

‘Since secondary school. He was a bad influence on me.’ David grinned, pouring himself more wine.

‘I think you’ll find it was you who was a bad influence on me.’ Loki corrected.

Chloe wasn’t sure if it was the wine that was giving her more confidence or if it was just the excitement about hearing stories of Loki, but she couldn’t help but ask.

‘What was Loki like as a teenager?’

‘Oh god.’ Loki shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

‘A total nerd! Really into space and science. Aced pretty much all of his classes, except for PE for the first few years. He could barely run from one side of the football pitch to the other.’ David was in his element talking about Loki.

‘Really?’ Chloe looked at Loki with her eyebrows up.

Loki sighed. ‘It’s true. I was not into anything physical at all when I was younger. I was a skinny weakling.’

‘That soon changed though. It was, what, year three and he started working out hard. Put the entire class to shame by the end of that year.’

‘Did you two get up to mischief or was Loki a teacher’s pet?’ Chloe smirked, she knew by the look Loki gave her that she was in trouble later, no doubt. But she was finding it far too much fun.

‘As I said, David was a bad influence on me. When I started hanging around with him, I got into trouble more. The teachers were perplexed though, I was the smartest bad boy there was.’ He said proudly.

‘Highly intelligent, eventually strong and rather wicked. A dangerous concoction.’ David said. ‘I remember once when he almost drowned a poor kid in the swimming pool.’

Chloe’s eyes widened. ‘What? Seriously?’

Loki shrugged. ‘It was swimming class and he pulled a girls bikini bottoms down. She was horrified.’

‘Well… I guess he did deserve something back, but drowning him?’ Chloe gasped.

‘Correction, almost drowning him.’ Loki said with his finger up. ‘And in my defence, the teacher wasn’t overly pleased with what he did either. I didn’t get suspended or in too much trouble for attempted murder.’

Chloe just face-palmed, not knowing what to say really.

David told more stories from when they were younger. Chloe was ecstatic to be hearing about them. From Loki’s first crush on a substitute teacher where he brought her fruit almost daily and was heartbroken when the regular teacher came back, to trying his first cigarette and almost choking on it, never smoking again. Then the one Chloe thought was one of the best, was how he started up a business where he gave younger students answer sheets for exams that he made up himself, charging a fiver for each one.

‘He actually earned a good amount of cash from that. What was it, near five hundred quid?’

‘Just over six hundred, actually.’ Loki chuckled, smiling as he thought back of that fondly.

‘Bloody hell. So you’ve always been a business man.’ Chloe said.

‘I guess so.’ Loki nodded.

The three retired to the living room for a while and had a few more drinks. Then David decided to head home, joking that his wife would chop his balls off for being here for dinner without her.

After Loki saw him out, he returned to Chloe and sat down on the sofa. He was delightfully surprised when she put her drink down and moved along the sofa to drape herself across his lap, twisting his tie around her fingers.

He chuckled and rested his hand on her chest, the span of his hand so large that his fingers brushed against her neck.

‘Are you drunk, doll?’ He teased and started stroking her neck softly.

‘Not too drunk, no. I’m just… happy.’ She said honestly, looking up into his eyes.

Loki smiled fondly down at her. His other hand stroking her hair. ‘Well, I am very glad to hear that. Because I am too.’

[7-wonders]

Almost Feelings

Summary: Just when things were starting to get back to normal, an accidental confession by Michael sends shockwaves through your relationship.

Word Count: 3148

A/N: Another chapter of Mad Love, done. Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope this doesn’t suck too much.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15

Life manages to slowly reassume a state of relative normality. After Dinah Stevens had checked you over and declared you free of Satan’s influence, you were allowed to actually leave your bed and once again have freedom. Well, limited freedom. Michael has been wary of letting you out of his sight, terrified that Satan will once again attempt to control you. Your father-in-law hasn’t made an appearance in your lives since the night that he possessed a cocktail waitress, which is what scared both you and Michael the most. 

Michael had fully been expecting to be swept down to Hell for a thorough scolding about “spurning” the gifts being given to him. As the days passed with none of the usual indicators that Satan was near, your worry started to wane. Surely he had better things to do than stalk you and wait to once again try the plan that had already failed? Michael, on the other hand, wasn’t too sure. If there’s one thing he knows about the being he’s never met, it’s that he’s extremely patient. 

The gilded cage in which you’ve spent the past days under Michael’s watch has become increasingly more confining. Even if you weren’t outwardly expressing your discomfort, Michael would be able to sense it. Although he wants nothing more than to make sure you’re safe at all times, he knows he can’t keep you locked in the house. Maybe if he was less of a lovestruck Antichrist, he would have no qualms about it. The power dynamics in your relationship have changed, for better or for worse, and he cares about your wants far too much for him to disregard your feelings. 

It’s only been a few days since your bout of “food poisoning” when Michael finally agrees with you that it’s safe to return to class, but it feels as if it’s been months. Even in the largest house you’ve ever inhabited, cabin fever still runs rampant. As he watches you run out the door to get to campus, Michael feels a tugging in his chest that he’s come to associate with you. Watching the one person you love most in the world leave the safety of your protection is a pain that, unfortunately, Michael’s become all too familiar with.

While Michael’s dealing with emotions he’s never had before, you’re nearly drunk on the freedom that you’ve been denied lately. It’s not exactly warm out, but the windows in your car are rolled down and the wind whips your hair around your face as you sing along to the radio at the top of your lungs.

Classes, of course, you could do without. It’s the little moments, getting to laugh with your friends in class and holing up in your favorite hidden corners when you have a break, that make the monotony of lectures bearable. Michael, predictably, breaks the established rules of communication by texting you to make sure that you’re okay at least once an hour. Prior to momentarily being Satan’s puppet, this would have irritated you to no end. Now, you understand Michael’s motives in a way that you previously hadn’t.

“You look a lot better,” Mallory says in place of a regular greeting when you meet up with her in the library after class.

“As opposed to my regularly horrendous appearance?” She rolls her eyes, obviously not appreciating your joke.

“You know what I meant.” You slide into the seat across the table from Mallory, tugging your textbook and laptop out of your backpack. “The endless bout of food poisoning is finally gone for good?”

“I think so. I started feeling human a couple of days ago, and this is the first day I haven’t felt like crawling into a hole and dying since I got sick.”

“Well that’s good. I almost thought you were avoiding us after revealing your secret.” You look up, panicked at what she could mean before realizing that she means your living arrangements.

“Oh! No, I wouldn’t avoid you guys, because it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Really? Because with the way that Michael looks at you, you would think that you were married.”

You laugh nervously and pretend to search for a pen in your bag, attempting to hide your anxious expression. “Like I’ve told you before, we’re just friends and he was nice enough to help me out when I was facing a tough time.”

“It’s not a bad thing if you do have feelings for him, (Y/N).”

“I just don’t get why you and Kate are stuck on this idea,” you grumble.

Mallory’s gaze softens when she sees how her comments affected you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad at you, I promise. Let’s just work on homework before we get too off-track.”

Of course, this plan works for a good twenty minutes, giving you just enough time to read and take notes from one chapter of your text before your attention is drawn away from the task at hand. Mallory had merely asked for your help in identifying the proper use of ‘affect’ versus ‘effect,’ which almost immediately led to discussing topics that have nothing to do with schoolwork. 

“I think we need to focus on the real issue here,” you comment as Mallory laments Kate and Brennan’s latest argument, this one about moving in together.

“Which is?”

“Your own love life, of course.” Mallory groans, making you pout. “Mal, you haven’t mentioned any sort of romantic interest once since I met you.”

“Because I have better things to do than spend my time swiping on Tinder.” You can tell that there’s more she’s not divulging, and a good minute of remaining silent while sneaking glances at her has the brunette finally speaking again. “I...my last relationship didn’t end well at all.”

“Was this while you were still living in New Orleans?”

“Yeah. Actually, my decision to transfer here is what led to our break up. She wanted me to stay, I wanted to go, and that was that.”

You feel for her, but an interesting bit of information captures the majority of your attention. “‘She!’”

Mallory flushes, attempting to stutter out an answer, but you’re far too excited to allow her to speak.

“Ooh, that doubles the potential dating pool for you! I know so many people who would be so interested in you, and they’re just the ones that I can think of off the top of my head.”

“While I appreciate your excitement, I’m just not sure I’m quite ready for another relationship yet.” You nod in understanding, but Mallory’s phone chiming ends the conversation before you can suggest slowly diving back into the dating pool. “Ugh, I’ve gotta get going.”

“Yeah, I should probably go too. I have way too much homework that I haven’t gotten started on.”

“Wanna make a deal?” Mallory asks as you walk towards the parking lot together.

“A deal?”

“Mhm. I won’t bring up the Michael issue anymore if you won’t try and drag me out to go and meet new people.”

You have to hand it to her; she’s extremely good at bartering. “Alright then, we have a deal.”

//

Shockingly, Michael’s not waiting at the door for you when you arrive home. You find him in the kitchen searching for food, although he does look like he’s trying not to seem like he’s waiting for you.

“Hey,” you greet, hopping up on the counter and pulling Michael into a hug that he begrudgingly returns.

“Hi. How were classes today?”

“I survived, so…” you trail off, shrugging.

“And you’re feeling okay? Nothing odd happened to you?”

“No, I’m great.” Just to prove how great you are, you shove Michael away from you. “Could someone possessed by Satan do that?”

“No, I suppose not.”

Getting off of the counter, you snag a sandwich from a plate and take a very well-deserved bite. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve asked me many questions about many things, all without asking beforehand if you can.”

“Well it’s a touchy subject, and people usually like to make sure that it’s okay to ask.”

Michael looks at you like he’s not sure he wants to know what you’ll ask, but nods anyways. “Ask away, then.”

“You’re treating this whole situation like it’s your fault.”

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Sorry. Why are you treating this whole situation like it’s your fault?”

“I’m not.”

Wrinkling your nose, you cross your arms over your chest and glare. “I thought you hated lies.”

“It wasn’t a lie,” he scoffs.

“Michael, you’re terrified about me leaving your sight and you do anything and everything I ask. It’s okay to feel like it’s your fault, but I need you to know that it’s not.”

“How is it not my fault? It happened at an event that I took you to, it was my father who poisoned you, and it’s because you’re an unwilling part of this prophecy that I dragged you into.”

“Are you your father? Are you the one who made me drink that potion? Did you take advantage of me when you could have?”

“No, I’m not, and I didn’t, but I’m the reason he tried it in the first place!”

The room falls silent, and you watch as Michael’s eyes widen. You wouldn’t have thought anything about his statement in the first place if he hadn’t shown any fear in his eyes, assuming it to just be a blanket statement since Satan’s his father. Now, you’re starting to suspect there might be something more.

“What do you mean, ‘you’re the reason he tried it in the first place?’”

“I-I--” Michael shakes his head as he stammers, taking a cautious step back from you.

“Michael,” you snap, patience running thin.

“Fuck, (Y/N)!” He runs a hand through his hair, and you’re shocked at his uncharacteristic use of a swear. “I was impatient and frustrated, and so I sought out my father’s advice for help. I knew it was wrong the moment he gave me a solution, but he was so angry that I even thought about turning down his ‘gift’ that I...I took it.”

“You knew he was going to give me that drink at the Cooperative event?” You’re oddly calm, something that frightens Michael more than any amount of anger could.

“No! No, I knew nothing about that.”

You take your time digesting this information, letting Michael stew in his anxiety as your jaw clenches tightly. “So there was another time, then?”

“Yes, there was.”

Thinking through every interaction you’ve had with Michael in the past couple of months, you can only think of a couple of occasions where he’s acted stranger than normal. Only one of those, however, involved Satan’s ironic choice of apples.

“The day where I had the weird dream that I couldn’t remember, and then you freaked out when I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl,” you say bitterly. “You put that fucking apple there!”

“I didn’t have a choice--”

“Yes, you did. You contacted your father because you were pissed I wasn’t your adoring little wife, you put that apple in the bowl, you watched as I ate what you thought was your father’s gift, and you kept this little secret from me!”

The lights flicker ominously above you, a silent warning to watch yourself before Michael loses control. Today, however, those signs of Michael’s immense powers couldn’t mean less to you. 

“I wanted to protect you. The second you grabbed that apple, I regretted even contacting my father in the first place. I assumed that, by not telling you in the first place, that would mean you weren’t living every day in fear.”

“You don’t get to decide what information I should and shouldn’t know, especially when it directly concerns me and my life.”

“I know that, and you need to trust me when I say that I am so, so sorry for the way that this happened.” Michael reaches a hand out to try and physically convey just how sorry he is, but you shove him away as you shake your head emphatically. The tears brimming in your eyes physically cause him pain, and all he wants to do is feel one of your hugs as he wipes your sadness away. 

“How do you expect me to trust you anymore? You lied to me and put my life at risk, solely for your own selfish reasons,” you cry out, spinning on your heel and marching up the stairs.

“I don’t expect you to trust me, and I’ll spend every day trying to earn that trust back--”

“No,” you spit, coming to a stop at your bedroom door. “This isn’t something that you can just apologize a few times for and then everything is okay again.”

Michael watches helplessly from the threshold of your room, not willing to go in as you grab a bag and start throwing clothes into it.

“I know you’ve never really seen the dynamics of any sort of a healthy relationship, but surely even you should know that this is not the way that people are treated.”

“What are you doing? Are you leaving?”

You ignore his question, walking into the bathroom before returning with an armful of toiletries. “You say that you’re in love with me? What you did is not love. Love is honesty, and protection, and admitting your mistakes when you make them. Love is not lying to save face, or believing that you know better than the person you claim you love.”

“(Y/N),” Michael says brokenly, hoping to somehow find enough of a gap in your sentences to attempt and repair what’s been broken.

“You’re not supposed to hurt those that you love, and you hurt me.”

“I do love you, and I never wanted any of this to happen!” Now Michael’s crying too, blue eyes stormy as tears trail down his cheeks.

“You don’t love me, Michael. You love the idea of what I’m supposed to be for you. You think that I’m just going to wake up one day and fit into this role that supposedly is mine by prophecy, but I’m not. It’s been almost a year; either release me from this sham of a Satanic marriage or kill me, because I will never be what you want me to be.”

Michael feels like his entire world is crumbling around him as you zip up your bag and toss it over your shoulder. He has to do something to fix this, but it’s as if he’s frozen in place. You can’t even look him in the eyes as you pass, knowing that you’ll lose your resolve if you do.

“Just because your father doesn’t love you doesn’t give you the excuse to have a skewed idea of love.” You pause at the front door, hand on the doorknob as you look back at him. “I need to be alone for a couple of days. Don’t bother trying to contact me, I won’t answer.”

Closing the door behind you, you can hear Michael’s screams of agony as you run to your car and fumble with the keys. The key’s barely in the ignition before you’re driving away, angrily swiping tears from your face to attempt to keep your sight clear.

How could he betray you like this? How could he sit by, hearing you thank him profusely for saving your life, when it was all his fault? Your mind whirls with a cacophony of questions, all of them leaving behind a bitter disappointment.

He’s supposed to be your friend. Up until today, you had thought things were going well, and you genuinely liked your Satanic roommate. Now, you don’t know if you can ever even trust him again. This deception stings more than you would have expected. After all, you used to despise him; why should this hurt you when you had expected the bare minimum? Maybe this is all your fault for placing your trust in a person who should not be trusted under any circumstances.

You’re too lost in your thoughts to register movement out of the corner of your eye until it’s too late, a small deer jumping directly in the path of your oncoming vehicle. Gasping, you slam on the brakes in an attempt to save the animal. Startled by the sound, the deer dashes across the road into the tree-line. You should be in the clear, but a quick rainstorm earlier in the evening has left the roads wet. As the car hydroplanes across the road, you quickly realize that there’s no stopping its path.

The car careens through the deserted road, crashing in the ditch and coming to a stop when it hits a tree. Although you try to brace yourself, the force of the crash overwhelms any strength you may have. Your head smacks against the steering wheel, and though you only lose consciousness for a second, it’s frighteningly disorienting to wake up again.

Your head screams in pain as you lift yourself up, and you can feel a warm liquid coursing down your face. Gingerly touching the source, you examine your fingers and confirm that you’re bleeding. Throwing open the car door, you stumble and land on your hands and knees. When you attempt to stand, the world tilts under your feet, so you settle from crawling away from the wreckage.

Of course this would happen to you when you’re attempting to put some distance between you and Michael. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if this crash was orchestrated by Satan himself to voice his displeasure at the situation. You try your hardest to crawl towards the road, hoping that a lone car will spot you and get help, but your arms give out underneath you and send you falling to the ground.

Staring up at the darkening sky, you can only hope that this concussion isn’t the kind that includes internal bleeding. There’s a chance for you to make your way to safety if you can regain your bearings, but the dropping temperatures make you worry that you’ll be out in the cold all night. Just as you’ve resigned yourself to freezing to death, the sound of feminine voices approaching you gives you hope.

“Over here, help me!” you call weakly, attempting to sit up to see who’s out there.

Four women walk towards you; an older woman with crimped red hair, two blondes, and a brunette. One of the blondes bends down beside you and, instead of calling for help, smiles at you with perfectly-painted pink lips as she strokes your bloodied hair away from your face. You panic as you feel yourself losing consciousness again, wide eyes darting around the group as you try to ask what’s going on. Right before passing out, you lock eyes with the brunette and feel a flicker of recognition.

“Mallory?”

//

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[smeraldos]

stuck in second gear

so no one told you love was going to be this way.

summary: the tables have been set, the guests have arrived, and congratulations are ready to be made.

all you have to do is show up...

wedding!au

pairings: taehyung/reader, namjoon/reader

genres: love, suspense, bittersweet symphony

words: 2.6K+

Once upon a dream, you’d thought your wedding would be a fairytale. Now you know why some stories have to end: what lies beyond "happily ever after" isn't always so pleasant. 

Which is why you're trying to prevent it. 

Sure, you don't have the best timing, but it's better late than never. Even if it means sneaking out your dressing room in a ton of satin.

"______? How are you doing?"

Startled, you step back from the window. "Great, just give me a few."

“A few what?" Phoebe quips from the other side of the door. "Hours? Years? You know we don’t have that time.”

“You don’t have it or you aren’t willing to give it?”

“Honey, I offered you help and you didn’t take it, so that’s on you. Now are you going to let me in or are you coming out?”

“I’ll come out.” You scramble to gather the train of your dress, but it’s too long. Spotting a pair of scissors leftover from ribbon cutting, you grab it and start cutting off the fabric. “In five minutes.”

“So what do I tell your fiancé?”

“Not to worry because it looks ugly on him and only I should see his ugly face.”

She laughs. "You got that, pretty prince?"

"I'm writing it in my vows," your fiancé says, and maybe you'd find it funny in a sitcom, but it's your life. You panic. The dresser you pushed against the door is not heavy enough to keep him out.

"You're welcome," Phoebe replies for you, oblivious to your dread. "Now shoo. I better not see you up here until ______ walks down the aisle."

He makes a kissy noise in return, right before you hear a loud beep.

Oh. 

“He’s a total kid, I don’t know how you put up with him," Phoebe says to you now. "Actually, don’t tell me. Just hurry up before he comes in and whisks you out himself. Five minutes!”

You don’t need to be told twice. As soon as her footsteps recede, you make quick work of the train and step onto the windowsill. A branch hangs before you, connecting to a tree that is your only way out. It’s risky. Not to mention you haven’t scaled a tree since you were a teenager, and clearly not in a dress of this size. Well. Either you go big or you go home.

You know which one isn’t an option anymore.

...

Taehyung met you in middle school, when he'd moved from the valley to the city. As much as he hated to gloss over people, he'd admit he wouldn't have become your friend if you hadn't been his lab partner first. Not that you weren't fun or interesting or cool - in fact, you were all three, but you ran in a different circle than he did. His was full of troublemakers. He was one of those kids who got bored easily if they weren't being challenged, so it was a good thing Jimin (the only other kid with a Korean name) and you came into his life when you did.

He'd also considered it a miracle you both stayed. Or so he hopes.

"Hey," Jimin, elevated to best man, steps up to him and pats his back. "Earth to Galactica, what's the status update?"

Taehyung tries to smile, but it's hard to do when his mouth is stuffed with strawberries. He's been sneaking them in to get his mind off of feeling nervous and the fact that you're supposed to show up soon, but why does he have this weird feeling that you won't? 

He hides it with a joke. "In 150 characters or less?"

"Preferably zero with that mosh pit," Jimin says, gesturing to his mouth. "Chew with your mouth shut. I'll wait."

Taehyung glares. Jimin can say what he wants now, but he's forgetting he used to chew gum like a cow on grass and who would let him get away with it? Taehyung, that's who.

And because he's such a good pal, he does as instructed. That's not to say he doesn't gargle some water, obnoxiously loud, to get back at him. At the end of the day, their friendship is built off of moments like this. 

It's why Jimin snorts right as Taehyung starts to speak.

"Sorry," he says. At least he has the decency to look like it. "You should have seen the look on those girls' faces. They were ready to give you the stink eye for gargling, but the minute they saw you, it was game over."

"The game has been over since ______."

"Right." Jimin gets back on topic. "So what did Phoebe say?" 

"______ will be on her way in five. I just don't know if she will at all."

"Did something happen?"

"No, she just won't accept any help. Don't you think that's weird? Apparently, the dress is a piece of work."

"And if anyone can pull it off, she can," Jimin assures. "You know she doesn't let anyone bug her in the middle of doing something she cares about. She's probably in there triple-checking all the details."

Taehyung has a feeling that isn't the case - they haven't addressed the elephant in the room. He mentions it first.

"You don't think she's getting cold feet, do you?"

A flicker of worry crosses Jimin's face, gone in an instant. He'd always been good at that: putting on a brave face. 

"Tae," he says, "you're it for ______, and you've both come this far already. I doubt she'd change her mind now. But in the smaller than my pinky chance she does, she won't do it without telling you."

Here's where Taehyung should agree (and laugh). But a couple weeks ago, you'd distanced yourself, and no matter what he tried, you wouldn't say what was wrong.

So he'd given you some space. To cheer you up, he left a Happy Meal outside your door, and instead of a toy, he'd placed little matryoshka dolls, inside of which lay a ticket to the Met. He knows you went - you'd sent him a pic of yourself next to Starry Night later that week. Yet you still haven't told him why you were stressed.

Taehyung takes a breath, thinks of a quick prayer. It’s as much for you as it is for the guests you both loved, for his best man who shouldn't be worrying on his behalf. 

"You're right," he says, faking an easy smile. "Thanks Chim. Remind me to give you that bottle from Napa later."

Jimin's eyes smile right back.

...

Incoming Call: Mr. Park

He swipes to red before you can see it. A text appears.

Did you find ______?

Jin did not sign up for this. He came for free food, a good time, and if he were honest, the chance to distract himself with someone else's happy ending. Small joys. If he stacked them up, maybe he'd have a nice building to look at. Maybe that nice building would block the dull view of the parking lot he woke up to each morning. 

Instead, he is chauffeur to a runaway bride eating animal fries in the backseat. You gulp down some Coke and release a loud burp. 

"What?" You ask when he gives you a look. "It's the baby."

The laughter dies in his throat when you abruptly stop, your cheeks growing red. So you hadn't meant to tell him that...which meant it wasn't a food baby. He places another hand on the steering wheel. Usually, he's the one giving people a ride, not the other way around.

"How far along are you?"

"Two weeks," you say. "Give or take."

"I see," he says. "So what's the deal between you guys, if you don't mind me asking?"

You give him the lowdown because he doesn't seem to care. And if he doesn't care, he won't judge. You watch his eyes through the rearview mirror, noting they look too honest to belong to someone who claimed to be a liar. Maybe that's the point.

Or maybe you've seen too many movies and they're getting to your head, Taehyung would say. To which you'd say it was his fault for dragging you to the discount theater too often. And he'd agree, admit he's a bad influence with his boyish smile, the sunlight crowning his head like a halo.

"Let me get this straight," Jin says. "You want to go through with this?"

"Yes."

"You don't sound very sure."

Have you always been this obvious or is your guilt starting to show? You settle for the closest truth. "It's a hard decision."

Jin doesn't push you, just keeps his eyes on the road. Before he drops you off at the airport, you ask him to stop by your apartment. You need a change of clothes. 

"Big day today?" A tenant asks, beaming at your dress.

You hope your smile doesn't look like a grimace. 

...

The fact that you don't live with Taehyung makes it easier to pack up. Kind of. He leaves behind belongings as naturally as Chopa sheds fur, and if he weren't so great at distracting you, maybe you would have noticed just how much of him you'd accumulated. His felt jacket is slung over the arm of your couch, his records are tucked in your shelves, the print he'd given you of Basquiat's Now's The Time is on the floor, leaning against a wall. Each of them comes with their own memories, some you'll one day forget. But now, looking at them all, you remember everything. You'll always hate yourself for that night you cheated on him, for ruining what could have been a happy life with the man you love.

As you empty out your drawer, you will yourself not to cry.

...

In the end, Taehyung finds you. When you open the door, he's standing in the hallway, looking like he wants to talk. You have no doubt he'll try to understand. He's quick to listen and slow to anger, an advocate of second chances you don't deserve. 

The instant he registers your suitcase, however, he stiffens. "I'll grab my things."

"Taehyung--" you try to say, but he brushes past without another word. Resigned, you follow him in, watching as he plucks some records off your shelves. An envelope falls to the floor, facedown. It's still sealed, so he must have meant for you to find it, only you never did. He picks that up, too. He sweeps his scarf off your coat rack, his bracelets off your counter, and the bag of Chopa's dog toys off the floor. The felt jacket he skips over.

"Isn't that yours?" You ask quietly, sinking into the couch. 

"No," he says. "It's yours."

You're pretty sure it's his...until you realize it isn't. He'd borrowed it a while ago, and you thought it looked much better on him than it did dwarfing you. He takes one last glance around the room and turns to go. 

"Wait," you say, "I--" 

He doesn't let you finish, stepping into his shoes and heading straight for the door. You don't know what to do. Impulsively, you run in front of him, blocking his way.

"______," Taehyung says, his voice so solemn it scares you, "weren't you going to leave?"

You plead with your eyes, unwilling to budge. "Please just let me explain."

He makes a sound that is somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Like this is easy? Leaving you?"

"You already did it," he says. "That was your decision to make, and this is mine. I'll take care of the guests. Don't keep your driver waiting."

You might as well have been slapped. Your conscience smarts from the sting of it.

"Forget him," you bite out. "I don't care about getting on a flight to who knows where since I didn't get a plane ticket. Did you know that? Because up until a few minutes ago, I wanted to marry you, Taehyung. I still do. But I'm pregnant and..." The rest of your words dissolve into tears.

Taehyung can’t believe this is happening. Or rather, he doesn't want to believe it. Then the pieces start falling into place - your hands trembling as you told him you cheated, the weeks before the wedding when you insisted on being alone, your ill-timed escape - and it's twice as painful. That baby you're carrying isn't his. 

He has every right to resent you, but how could he, when you're like this? 

Quietly, he lets go of his things and gathers you into his arms, holding your tear-stained face to his chest.

"I'm such a jerk." You suck in a sharp, shallow breath. "I was scared to tell you because I'd messed up our relationship once, and once is too much, you know?"

"I know."

"I don't deserve you."

"Of course you do." His voice is wet, and when you look up, he gently brushes away your tears. He's crying, too. "I love you."

...

A few years pass before you see Taehyung at the altar. Jimin reprises his role as best man and leaves with a pat on the shoulder.

Next to you, Jeongguk sniffles loudly. “What?” He says when you turn to him. “It’s touching.”

"Oh, stop. Nothing happened yet."

"Weddings just get to me, okay? I need to squeeze out every last teardrop so I don't interrupt the ceremony." Then he asks Annika if he can have a tissue. Annika, kind as always, does one better. She pulls him in like a mother hen and lets him cry on her shoulder. "Go ahead, honey. Let it all out," she murmurs, glaring at you as if it's your fault he was crying in the first place. 

"There, there." Yoongi, beside Annika, says halfheartedly. You shoot him a sharp look, but he just shrugs, mouthing: What did I do? 

You sigh. You guess you can't blame him for being smitten with Annika. She took you in after all, helping you to move on once you'd parted ways with Taehyung. Phoebe had introduced you to her, Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jeongguk, and you couldn't have wished for a better group of friends. Or a better set of aunts and uncles for Nina. Your daughter is standing right in front of the church doors now, a woven basket of confetti clutched in her hand. 

She looks so adorable you want to embarrass her. (At 5, she's adamant on being a big girl. And that meant you couldn't blow kisses at her or squish her cheeks without getting the cutest annoyed pout.) Unfortunately, someone stepping on your foot distracts you.

"Sorry." Namjoon gives you a sheepish grin. He'd just run back from the restroom. "I didn't miss anything, did I?"

You reach out to pull a lick of his slicked back hair over his brow. "Now you did," you say, cheeky, and he's about to smother you in a hug as payback when the pianist begins to play. Nina has too much fun scattering the confetti. 

In walks a line of bridesmaids and groomsmen, two by two. They separate to either end like the petals of a flower in bloom. 

Then comes the bride. Lily. You don't have to see her to know she's beautiful. You can tell by the way Taehyung's face lights up, the sun on his face making him golden. You're happy to see him happy, although you have to look somewhere above them when they kiss. 

The fact is, you still love him. In a different way, one that's familiar because you've been friends long before becoming anything romantic. But in rare moments, you catch yourself feeling blue.

Namjoon squeezes your hand. You didn't realize you were gripping his.

"Are you okay?" He whispers.

You look at him, Yoongi and Annika, Jeongguk. Phoebe, who's making the stranger to her right hide a laugh. (His name is Jay, she'd told you excitedly. But he moonwalks like Michael.)

"I'm okay," you whisper back, and Namjoon smiles. It isn't until you say it aloud that you realize it's true.

...

a/n: happy 7th birthday to bts, who give me hope that dreams aren’t a lost cause 💜

title taken from the infamous Rembrandts’ song, which you might recognize here.