#since it can help me expand upon julie some more

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid

chapter nine

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn't know.

calum hood x fem!oc

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july 26th, 2018 los angeles, california orion

Even though I don't want to, I feel myself pulling away from Calum. Of course, that’s not fully possible when we live together. I just know that the more we talk and are happy in each other’s company, the more I’ll want to talk about what’s actually happening, and I can’t do that. I can’t put him through that. I'm crying the minute I'm alone every time, whether it's while he's at rehearsal or when he takes Duke outside. He can tell I'm sad, surely, but I think he just thinks it's because he's leaving.

So instead of pulling away fully, I just find myself scrolling on my phone more often while he’s home. I don’t start as many conversations and I’m less likely to initiate any kind of physical contact. If he notices the small shifts in our dynamics, he doesn’t say anything.

My heart is torn between wanting to savor our time together, clinging to him like glue, or taking a step back so I don’t have to bring myself to painfully expand upon the lies I’m building as a wall between us. It’s hard to pretend like I’m okay and happy, but I have to. I can’t let him know things are going wrong, so when he asks if I want to come along for rehearsal today, I say yes.

I dread having to see Ashton. We haven't spoken since our interaction in the hospital parking lot, but he's texted me several times saying things like "I just want you to know I love you" and "please let me be there for you if you need someone." I just reply with hearts each time.

"Do you want to grab bagels on the way?" Cal asks me while I'm in the bathroom doing my makeup.

I nod, smiling slightly. "Yeah, sure. Rosie's? Or is there somewhere else on the way?"

"Nah, let's do Rosie's."

He doesn't leave the bathroom after that, just stands in the doorway, watching me in the mirror. I'm brushing some brow gel on when he speaks again.

"Are you feeling okay? Did the sinus infection come back?"

So he has noticed.

I clear my throat and nod. "Yeah, not feeling the best."

His eyes show some kind of emotion I can't place. "I'm sorry, do you want to stay home today? You can come to rehearsal another time. We've still got a few more."

"No, I'll come." I shake my head, offering him another small smile.

"Let me know if you want to leave, at any point. Okay?"

"Sure."

Once my makeup is finished, we head down to the lobby, hand in hand. I've always loved holding hands with Calum. Mine are small and always freezing, and his dwarf mine and are always so warm. His hand tattoos have also always been my favorite, mostly because I love the thought that his parents have a hand in everything he does. We're both close with our families, and I absolutely adore his family. We've not spent a ton of time together, but Joy, Mali, and I have a group chat that we talk in a few times a month.

When we get in the car, he doesn't let go of my hand while he drives, except when he needs to use a turn signal or something. Feeling tethered, grounded in the moment — it's a great feeling. It's helping to keep me sane this morning.

I wonder if he'd hold on tighter knowing that I'm dying.

I've placed on online order for Rosie's, so Cal just turns on his hazards in front of the shop while I run inside to grab our bagels and coffees. I always feel kind of rude hopping in front of the people in line, but it's not worth waiting when our food is already ready and waiting for us.

While Cal drives to rehearsal, I unwrap his sandwich in a way that makes it easier for him to eat while driving. He gives me authority over the aux chord, which he rarely does, so I try to make it worth my while. I play some Still Woozy, The Wldlfe, and Medium Build. Part of the reason I rarely get the power over our music is because I like to mess with him and play his own music. I can tell he appreciates today's choices.

We get to the rehearsal facility and are the last ones there, but we brought bagels for everyone, so they don't mind that we're slightly late. Luke lights up when he sees me, setting his guitar down quickly and runs over.

"Orion!" He practically squeals. "I've missed you!"

Laughing, I give him a hug, which leads to him lifting me off the ground and spinning us around. My mood is instantly lifted. "Hi Luke."

"Cal, you should bring her everyday, she's so fun to have with us."

I scoff. "Luke, I literally just sit on the couch and watch you."

"Yeah, but you actually sing along and you always bring snacks."

My feet are back on the ground, and I'm quickly met with hugs from Mike, Ash, and Matt. Ashton's hug lasts a little longer than everyone else's, and his face is sad in the midst of everyone else's grins. It doesn't seem like anyone else notices.

"Cal's the one behind today's snacks, don't give me the credit," I tell him, but he just shrugs and throws his arm over my shoulders.

"Still, you always sing along and dance sometimes. It's nice to have an adoring fan."

It is kind of funny that I wasn't a fan when I met Calum two years ago, and now I'd say they're my favorite band, and not just because I'm dating one of them. I truly just really love their music, and I love dancing, so it's not hard for me to want to dance when they're performing or rehearsing. It's not like they've been performing a ton in recent years, but that summer I remember quickly learning every song so I could sing along whenever I visited Calum across Europe.

"Wish you could come with us," Michael adds.

"Next time," I say, even though I don't know that that will be possible. I'd like to think it is.

"Can I get that in writing?" Cal chimes in.

I playfully stick my tongue out at him. "I'm gonna miss you guys." I look over at Ashton and meet his eyes instantly. He looks like he's trying not to cry, and I have to look away before I start to dwell on it.

Luke wraps me into another hug. "You're so tiny, we could just put you in a suitcase and sneak you on the tour. Your professors won't even know you're missing." When he lifts me up again, Matt decides to cut the conversation.

"All right, you've told Orion you love her. Let's get to work."

"Such a buzzkill, Matty," Michael whines, grabbing his water bottle off the ground and walking over to his guitar on its stand.

Luke still has me wrapped in his hug and awkwardly carries me over to the couch. I wish Sierra or Crystal or Kay were here to sit with me, but it's nice to be able to put my feet up on it. He ungracefully drops me onto the leather cushions before he heads back to his own guitar and mic stand.

I look over and catch Cal strumming a few random chords on his bass. At least, they seem random to me. I'm sure he's got some intention behind it. Everything music-related goes above my head.

It's nice to get to watch the set before they show the world. I've always loved the way they try to offer a different experience for their music when they perform it live. Of course, there aren't any lights or anything in this essentially empty building that's just a step above a warehouse, but that gives the music a chance to shine as what it is. Art.

Watching them do what they love reminds me that this time apart is necessary. This is what they love. This is why they do what they do. Performing, bringing their work to the people who make it all possible. I love that they get the chance to do this. I've never had resentment towards Calum for going on this tour, but still, watching them practice the set is giving the time apart an additional level of worthiness.

While I'm getting treatment, Calum will be doing what he loves most in this world with his favorite people. I'd feel so selfish taking him away from it.

I nearly start crying when Cal practices his speech for his talking break.

"Los Angeles, this next song is dedicated to my best friend, my partner in life, and my biggest fan. This is Better Man."

It's going to be fine. It has to be. He's going to go on this tour and then when he comes back he can be by my side as I continue to deal with whatever leukemia throws at me.

—

"Matty, we're gonna go to the beach after this, wanna join?" Michael calls across the room. He's the only one who calls Matt 'Matty' and naturally Matt hates it.

None of us have swimsuits, but we all agreed that the beach sounds like a good idea. It's still hot out, since it's the middle of summer, but it's not quite as hot and humid as it has been for the last few weeks. Rehearsal also didn't take too long today, so we have a lot of the day left.

"I'm tired of you guys and about to spend four months with you. I'll pass." Matt actually loves the guys, but he's a grumpy person in general, and he does have a point. "See you tomorrow." He walks off then, going through a door that leads somewhere that I've never been. I can understand finding them annoying. They can be a lot — but I love them and I love being part of their shenanigans.

We all head out, everyone hopping into Cal's Jeep to minimize beach parking chaos on a beautiful day. I offer to sit in the back since I'm the smallest and the guys are all very tall, but nobody lets me and the three of them cram in like sardines in the backseat. We drive with the windows down, and Cal even lets me control the aux again, so I just keep the playlist I'd had on earlier.

Once we get to the beach, as soon as the car's in park, Ashton opens his door and jumps out. "Last one in the water is a loser!" He screams, running full force down the wooden walkway and ripping his shirt off in the process.

Luke and Mike scramble out to follow him, also stripping their shirts and trying to kick their shoes off while they run. Luke trips, giving Mike a lead, but naturally Ashton gets to the water first. I have no hope of trying to beat them, so I've not even opened my door yet, and I'm surprised to see Calum still sitting in the driver's seat when I look over.

"You didn't want to race?"

"I know you're not feeling too great. I didn't want to leave you and make you the loser. That's not a fair fight," he explains. "C'mon, let's go after them."

I frown. "You could've gone."

"I'm about to leave you for four months. I don't need to leave you yet."

He makes my heart ache. Why is he so good to me? How can someone love me like that?

Instead of revealing how I feel, I plaster on my best fake smile, kick off my shoes, take off my shirt, and get out of the car. "Let's go!"

He follows suit, and then we walk hand in hand down the beach. The other three are already in the water, each trying to push the others to fall over, which ends up with all three of them falling over. When Cal and I reach them, they're all yelling, "LOSERS!"

"You are literal children," I tell them, wading into the water. I love the beach. Floating in the water, laying in the sun, looking for shells. All of it.

"You're younger than all of us," Ashton points out, laughing.

"Shut up," I say, leaning back so I can float in the water. I don't let go of Calum's hand, and he keeps me anchored so I don't drift off.

I can't get to a point of relaxation, because before I know it, Michael splashes water in my face, making me jump and turn upright. I splash him back, and when he splashes me again, it hits Cal. Once Cal's in on it, the other two join in, and we're all just splashing each other, squealing with laughter and squinting from saltwater hitting our eyes.

When I can't see because of all the water that's hit my eyes, I halt my splashing. While I rub at my burning eyeballs, someone must notice, because they stop.

"Man down!" Luke yells.

I feel Calum's hands grip my forearms, stopping my movements. "Stop rubbing and let your tears flush it out, babe," he says.

I do what he says, dropping my arms and trying to open my eyes, the sting making it impossible to try to look. "It burns!"

He laughs. Seconds later, I feel him pull me closer to him, hugging me against his damp torso while waves lap around us. I keep trying to blink and get the water out of my eyes, but it feels pretty futile so far.

It's kind of strange to think about this life. I'm just swimming in the ocean at a random beach access near LA with my boyfriend and his three best friends. Those four people happen to be internationally famous musicians who are about to embark upon a world tour. They're massively famous but so normal, just four more guys at a beach splashing water at each other.

And I'm just a random girl at a random beach access who happens to have leukemia. The odds that we're all here, right now, together, feels so special. The universe put us here for some reason, and I'm so happy I'm here with them. I'd say I feel lucky to have been handed this deal of fate, but I know that this blip of a moment pales in comparison to my recent diagnosis.

I try to soak in the feeling of the sun on my face and the weight of Cal's arms around me; the smell of salt and the coolness of the water. I even try to memorize the way my eyes burn. I just want to remember the way this feels forever.

We hang out in the water for an hour or so, then go back to the shore to lay out and relax. Luke and Michael are turning pink quickly, so we don't stay out too long. I make sure we get a selfie of all of us on the beach together before we pile back into the Jeep.

Calum drives everyone back to their cars, and we all get out to say goodbye. Everyone is damp and sandy, but I don't care. I give each of them a bear hug, squeezing them as tightly as I can. Luke picks me up and spins me around again, and Ashton's hug feels nearly bone crushing.

"See ya tomorrow, Cal!" Mike says, giving him a quick hug. "Bye, O. Thanks for coming along today!"

"Love you both," Luke adds in. "Have a nice night!"

"I love you guys. Let me know when you're home!" Ash calls.

Once everyone has given each other a hug and we're sick of feeling sticky, sweaty, damp, and sandy, we all clamber back into our own vehicles and head out.

"How ya feeling?" Cal asks once we're on the road.

"I'm okay," I tell him. It's not wrong. I'm okay right now, and I'm not feeling that sick. The beach was mostly a nice distraction from the heaviness that's been consuming me.

"Ice cream?"

I know he's just trying to make the last of our few days together as special as he can, but for some reason it almost makes me feel more sad. I'm lucky to have someone who makes such a big effort, but I feel bad. It's hard to put words to the idea.

"If you want ice cream, sure," I say. "But I think we have some at home, too."

He doesn't take his eyes off the road while he places his hand on my thigh. "Let's get ice cream and take a walk while the sun sets. We can get some golden hour selfies."

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[jonnysinsectcatalogue]

Dog-Day Cicada - Neotibicen canicularis

Happy 2023 fellow insect enthusiasts, blog readers and bug hunters! Enjoy your visit to my humble blog. For the insect chosen for showcase today, I’d like to include some messages for this new year: may there be help, direction and guidance if you need it; may you grow well and maintain your strength and health; and even if life hits you hard this year, try to keep going and never stop climbing to your goals. These Cicada photos gave me those words from the simple stories of interaction I had with these beauties. I don’t mean to be philosophical, but to welcome a new year, I’ll speak from the heart today.

To start, the hatching Cicada. Like a few on this blog before, the first specimen has crawled to the surface and completes its final molt to its adult form, complete with wings and genitalia. From history, whenever I see a Cicada emerging, I sit down and watch, even if only the end of the escape from the exuvia (shed skin). I kept my hand underneath this hatchling since hanging upside down without much of a surface to hold on can lead to fall. Cicadas (and insects in general) are built to withstand falls from heights and walk away undeterred, but I’ve got a soft spot for them, especially when priority 1 will be to dry out their shell and expand their wings. The shed friend was gently caught and placed on solid ground on top of the bench, the exuvia left hanging. Though unsteady at first, the fresh adult eventually started moving and climbed up the bench armrest to sun, just as its kin have done so in years past. The bench has been a popular spot for the Cicada emergence, likely due to its composition of wood and it being near large areas of soil near trees. If a Cicada’s shell can hold on tight, it’s a suitable surface., which gets me thinking to perhaps partially bury the legs in the garden and just leave it as a fixture and help for the Cicadas. Not to mention the other carpenter insects that greatly appreciate wood and wood pulp, but I digress.

For the adult Cicada, I found it upside-down with legs tucked in on the sidewalk. Still intact, I picked it up to see if it was still alive, and it was. This seemed to be a playing dead behavior which could act as a defense if the Cicada needed to tumble from a high place (such as a treetop) very suddenly. They tuck in their legs to minimize damage and so that nothing can grab them. Aside from the occasional burst of sound and flight, that’s really the only defense Cicadas have. Anyways, it eventually got moving again, slowly but surely. Upon closer inspection and moving it to the nearby tree, I noticed the crack in its shell. An opening in insect armor is never a good thing, due to exposure to microorganisms and greater advantage securing from predators. Fortunately, insects don’t let pain the same way mammals do, and the Cicada remained determined and instinctual with climbing the tree. There was enough time in the summer for this hardy insect to return to the treetops, find a mate and (possibly) lay eggs. I’m anthropomorphizing them a bit, but I really do admire the resilience of Cicadas and their mission to climb trees (I only they were more precise with their flight technique). Even if they fall out of or crash against the tree, they’ll just shake it off and climb again. And with a new generation of Dog-Day Cicadas year after year, it’s like seeing them reborn and renewed for a new year. 

Pictures were taken on July 19 and August 11, 2022 with a Google Pixel 4. In all honestly, I can’t tell male and female Cicadas apart, so I’ll work on that this year. Happy 2023!

[7veil]

july 11, 2022

Met up with Sascha in what can best be described as the seats of a restaurant booth that had the decorations of a large cathedral. He is physically there with a laptop in front of him on the booth table with it open, but I do not see the contents of the laptop. He tells me that he has been reworking his old concepts of his original story-world, improving upon them and taking the concepts he had liked and expanding upon those rather than the whole thing. I think privately about the situations in which I have done the same. I raise my arms in a weird fashion and try to say something like, “Woahhh, someone’s a big thinking guy over here...” but for some reason the words do not come out, so I am there with my arms up and twitching trying to force noise out of myself to no avail, while Sascha looks at my strange display. I give up and put my arms down. He tells me that he has done these conceptual developments through the form of creating a game. I move my eyes to the laptop expectantly but he does not rotate it towards me, and I cannot move myself to stand next to him to see what’s on the laptop. How can I see what my friend has made?

The perspective shifts to me laying down on my bed in my room. My view is fixed on the bedroom door. The majority of the things put up on the walls of my room have been removed revealing the white wall underneath, lit in daylight.

This is the game.

A young woman with short light hair opens my door, smiling, and announces that this is the game that has been worked really hard on. I assume that she is someone who helped develop the game with Sascha, but I have never heard or seen him mention this woman before. She closes the door and narration for the game begins. A male voice, heavily filtered as to imitate coming out of an old radio, begins to explain the instructions for the game. I am unfortunately half-paying attention, so the only thing I pick up is that when a bar onscreen (my first person view of the room has a HUD now) turns blue, I have to “press a button” that alerts everybody that it’s a “code blue” or “blue light”. When the bar becomes some other color, the button is to be pressed alerting the characters in the game of the “code brown” or “brown light,” but I remember the bar color not even being brown. The grace period of the tutorial ends and now the game really begins. Since I wasn’t paying attention, I’m confused and I try to play it off all casual and laugh since a friend is watching. The music gets more and more sinister as the bar changes colors and I can hear outside of my room the filtered voices of the other characters saying “blue light! blue light!” and “brown light?” as if hopelessly trying to help me or give me a hint, but it’s no use, as there were never any physical buttons for me to press to play along. Something’s going to come into my room—the noises I hear are awful, coupled with the background ambient music of the game make me think this—and I shut my eyes tight as I wait for any audio cues that seem to hint that the problem has gone away. I know that outside of this bedroom door, there are dark, white, submarine-type hallways and with something large roaming within. And now, it’s my room it wants to be in. The narration pops back every so often giving a bit of story to the game, but I am so focused on surviving via closing my eyes when I think something is going to happen that I’m not paying attention to that at all.

Things calm down, and the game is now over. The woman from before opens my door to announce this. I am shown the soundtrack for the game, presented with timestamps next to them and in order of their appearance, including the narration tracks. One of these songs I see and go, oh yeah, Sascha always said that was his favorite. He never said that.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Bet On It | Charlie Gillespie

Requested:  I may have already requested this (or I may have dreamed it) - but I would love an imagine with Charlie and the reader having a bet. Charlie loses and has to get the readers name tattooed somewhere and his fans go INSANE. Can be either platonic or romantic, your choice.

A/N: This was too good to pass up. Hope you like it! And special thanks to @calamitykaty for helping me out again on this one! I appreciate your help and love so much! You are the best of the best! Love you! 💖

Pairing: Charlie x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, tattoos 

Song(s) used: Show Me How You Burlesque - Christina Aguilera 

Words:  3,880

“Wanna bet on it?” was one of the first things he had ever said to you three years ago when you met him after your dance troupe had performed at the annual showcase. 

You and Meghan Gillespie had been friends since you started taking dance classes when both of you were five. However, your friendship never expanded from dance classes. Both of you were totally fine with that. 

This also meant neither of you had ever met each other's siblings, but that changed when you were seventeen and Charlie tapped your shoulder when you’d come up to greet your own family after the showcase. He’d complimented you on your dancing, and told you a little flustered that you had stolen the show. You didn’t even need to ask his name to know this was Charlie. He had the same bone structure and the same eyes Meghan did. She had told you about her siblings, mostly about Charlie since he was the closest in age and, according to her, the most annoying out of all her brothers. 

The two of you talked the whole night, even long after everyone had gone. Most of it was absolute nonsense, but  you loved getting to know him a little more aside from the stories you’d heard from Meghan. You enjoyed his presence and the way he carried himself and told his stories. This boy just seemed like the most excitable and passionate person you had ever met in your life. A lot of similarities to his sister, you noticed. 

“Can I see you again soon?” he asked when the two of  you wrapped up the night when it neared twelve am. 

You had raised your eyebrow at his nervosity more than his question. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Charlie’s head snapped up at your question, his eyes wide and jaw tight. “Wha-What? Nah! I wouldn’t date my sister’s friend! Uhm, more like, uh… Like a platonic date!” he exclaimed a little too excitedly. He even added some finger guns to top it all off. 

“All right, a platonic date it is,” you said as a teasing grin made its way to your features. “But you have to promise me one thing…” He nodded his head, encouraging you to go on. “You  have to promise you won’t fall in love with me.” 

A snicker raked through his body before he mimicked your teasing grin, “Wanna bet on it?” 

Even though back then there was nothing at stake, he still lost the bet. You both did, technically. Because after that first ‘platonic’ date followed more dates that grew into non-platonic dates until he finally picked up the courage to kiss you on your doorstep. 

Now three years later, you were working together on a second season of Julie and The Phantoms, both of you having been on the first season too. You as a background dancer and him as one of the leads of the show. 

To say you were proud of him would be an understatement. 

However, no one knew you were dating except for the closest people in your life. Meghan knew from the first ‘platonic’ date that this would be more than just a shallow friendship, and all your other friends and family were just happy you found each other. The cast of Julie and The Phantoms, however, were your biggest shippers. They loved to tease you both to the point where fans were suspicious, but you never made anything official. You kept telling them you were just best friends. 

After a full day on a corona proof set, the two of you finally settle on the sofa of your shared apartment with Owen. Said third roommate still had to film a couple of scenes with Booboo, which meant the two of you had the space all to yourself. 

Cuddled up on the couch, the two of you scroll through your phone, catching up on anything  you’d missed on social media. You’d received a few comments on your latest Instagram story with Savannah and Tori, and even more on the ones with Charlie in them. Most of them told you they wanted you to do a live together soon. 

“People are asking for a live,” you stated, showing some of the messages in your inbox. 

“Then they shall receive,” Charlie replied and got up from the couch, making his way into the bedroom. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering why he just left, but you were given answers when he returned with an acoustic in his hand. “They always love a good jam session,” he explained before handing  you his phone so you could set up the live on his account since he had a lot more followers than you. 

“Let’s see,” you mumbled as you pressed the button, letting the phone rest against a large candle on the coffee table. Names started popping up at the bottom of the screen while the little number in the right-hand corner raked up quickly. “Hey guys!” 

“‘Sup!” Charlie shouted excitedly, a wide smile taking over his features while he tuned his guitar. “What do you guys wanna see from us today? Send us some requests for songs I should play or questions you want us to answer.” 

A laugh escaped your mouth as you noticed a lot of the questions were about whether or not you were a couple. “No, we’re not together, we’re just best buddies.” You put your head on Charlie’s shoulder, smiling a toothy smile at the camera. 

“Do you pull pranks on Owen or others from the cast?” Charlie read aloud as you pulled yourself up again, nodding your head in response. “Yeah, we pull pranks on each other all the time!” 

“Yeah! I love to prank this one whenever I find him somewhere napping,” you chuckled, especially when you noticed his expression on the screen. His mouth ajar as his eyes went from left to right. “I swear, this boy can sleep anywhere!” 

“Don’t expose me like that!” he cried out, which made you burst out with laughter to the point where you even let out a snort. You couldn’t hold yourself anymore at how offended he was by all of this, you were practically cackling. “Okay, if we’re exposing each other, you’re always dancing. ALWAYS,” he put emphasis on the last ‘always’. His eyes widened at the word as well as his voice growing louder. 

You stopped laughing at this, suddenly turning serious. “That’s my job, Char,” you deadpanned. Charlie wasn’t Charlie if he let it go so quickly. 

“Yeah, on set and maybe at practice, but you dance everywhere,” he turned to the camera, “Seriously, she dances in the shower, on the toilet, at catering, in bed,...” he stopped himself upon realizing he’d said a tiny bit too much. 

“People are asking how you know all that, Charlie. How do you know all of that?” you teased along, knowing he had dug himself a hole and you loved to see him squirm to get him out. 

“Because I… Come on, y/n, we’re best friends, we fall asleep in the same bed all the time,” he quickly saved himself in a very nonchalant, very Charlie way. You couldn’t help the smirk tugging at one corner of your lip, thinking ‘Nice save, Gillespie’.

“But that’s still not as bad as sleeping everywhere,” you countered, your face still overtaken by that smirk. “I bet I could get a whole album of pictures of you sleeping anywhere.” 

This claim made Charlie’s head snap up, a feeling of dejavu rushing through his mind. This suddenly felt very familiar since both of you had  been in a situation like this before, both pulling the short straw.

“Wanna bet on it?” he declared, his eyebrows nearly reaching up to his hairline. 

Your tongue glided across your turned up lips as you replied, “What’s at stake?” 

“Let’s see what they think. Guys! Help us out with this bet, please! What should be at stake?”

Dozens of replies came in, but your eyes fell on one in particular. “The loser has to get the winner’s name tattooed in a place of the winner’s choice!” you read aloud, pointing at the screen where the comment used to be. “Yes! Okay! So, let’s say we have to each get ten pictures of videos by -- it’s now Tuesday, so Monday?”  Charlie nodded his head in agreement. “First one to get ten wins.” 

Charlie held his hand out for you to shake, which you gladly did so, sealing the bet. 

“Get ready to get tatted for the first time, baby,” Charlie quipped with a smirk. 

“Oh, no, Char. I’m gonna leave this a blank canvas,” you responded, gliding your hands over your ribcage and down to your sides for emphasis. “You better get ready to get ‘y/n’ tattooed in big block letters across your chest!” You patted his pecs before adding with a giggle, “No ragrets.” 

He let out a chuckle at the meme reference before turning to the phone again. The two of you spent the next twenty minutes talking to the fans on Instagram live, playing them some songs and teasing one another non-stop. The fans were pretty certain you were a thing by now, but you still insisted all this was just a really close friendship. 

By the next day, everyone knew about the bet and was willing to help both of you out. Though, most of them told you afterwards they were on your side all the way. 

Savannah skipped over to you when you were waiting at the Hollywood Ghost Club set, getting ready for the last rehearsal before you’d start filming the scene tomorrow. You were going over the steps in your head until she spoke up. “Have you caught Charlie yet today?” she asked with a smirk. You let out a chuckle, shaking your head. 

“No, haven’t really stopped today, so I haven’t seen him much either.” This made you realize you kind of missed him and were up for a cuddle right about now. “Why? Have you seen him somewhere?” 

The mischievous look in her eyes spoke a thousand words. “Gimme your phone, I’ll go take a picture, so you can stay here.” You mull over the option for a second before deciding against it. 

“No, that’s not very fair. I’ll just go and look for him after this rehearsal and hope he’ll still be napping.” Savannah shrugged at your response before tucking a strand of hair of yours behind your ears. 

“Suit yourself, he’s in the breakroom.” You made a mental note of that. “You’re so soft for him, it’s adorable,” she uttered as a tender smile found its way to her lips. “I’ll let you get to rehearsal and I’ll make sure no one wakes Charlie before you can get to him, okay?” 

You shot her a thankful smile, “Yeah, thanks, Sav.” She kissed your cheek before walking away to wherever she needed to go. 

Thankfully, Charlie was indeed still asleep by the time you made it to the breakroom. He looked adorable all curled up on the small sofa with his arms wrapped around his own stomach. With an endeared smile, you grabbed your phone from the pocket of your sweater and snapped a picture before making your way over to him and squatting down in front of the couch. Softly, you brushed a strand of hair off his forehead before combing through the luscious mop of brown locks. 

He stirred slightly and squeezed his eyes tighter before they fluttered open. When they met yours, a soft, sleepy smile lit up his face. With a beam mirroring his, you said to him, “You look very cuddly up here, mind if I join you?” He scooted over and turned to his side, answering your question without words. You joined him on the small couch and rested your forehead on his chest, shutting your eyes as you inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne. 

“You took a picture, didn’t you?” he mumbled, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You giggled, which was enough for him to know that you did. 

“One point y/n, Charlie zero,” you said and kissed his shirt-covered chest. 

“Oh, I’ll get my revenge, Bubba, I promise you!” He poked you in the ribs, making you squirm in his arms. “But let’s nap first until they need us again.” 

When Charlie promised something, he stuck to it. So, during lunch that same day, you stood in line with Madison, Jadah, Savannah, Tori and some of the other dancers, chatting a bit while music played from the speakers in the spacious area where everyone was either already eating or queueing to get food. 

“You really never know if you--” you cut yourself off once your ears picked up on the song that was playing in the background. “Oh my God! I know the choreo to this one. Tori, you do too, right?!” 

You put the plate you were holding on top of Savannah’s while Tori and some of the other dancers gave theirs to the other girls. Tori and Sam, one of the dancers you were closest with, got up on the table. Chuckling, you watched as a few others followed their example, and you quickly give in too. 

“Hit it up, get it up, won’t let you rest Hit it up, get it up, this is not a test Hit it up, get it up, gotta give me your best So get your ass up, show me how you burlesque”

You’ve loved this movie since it came out ten years ago. Your mother showed you some videos of you dancing in front of the tv, trying to imitate the dancers. It was pretty hilarious to see a ten-year-old do this dance. 

Right now though, you were ready to show off in front of everyone with some of the greatest dancers on this crew. Moments like these were proof that you were born to be a dancer. 

“A little bit of naughty, it's a little bit nice She’s a whole lot of glam, sweat, sugar, sex, spice Shimmy, shimmy, strut, strut Give a little what, what Up on the tables we’ll be dancing all night”   

Little did you know that Charlie had walked in with Owen, Jeremy and Booboo just as you’d started to dance. He was quick enough to grab  his phone from his pocket and film it. Even though he loved the fact that it was now a tie, he couldn’t help but smile proudly at the girl he’d fallen in love with three years ago. 

This was his favorite side of yours. You were in your element on the dance floor -- or table in this case. He just loved how confident you were and how free you seemed. While you’d be kind of shy when around new people, nobody would notice that when you’re dancing. He found it incredibly sexy to see you up there. 

You groaned as Charlie held his hand out to help you down the table when you’d finished the impromptu performance. With a smirk, he said, “1-1, Bubba,” and pressed a kiss to your flustered cheek. 

“I hate you,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t withhold the smile tugging at your lips. He looked so chuffed with his victory, even if it was a small one. You wanted to grant him this one win. 

The one win quickly turned into eight more, for the both of you, by Saturday. 

Match point. 

There was a mutual agreement to pause the bet on Sunday since the two of you had a day off and were going to sleep and dance around the apartment while cleaning up anyway, so that wouldn’t be fair. But on Monday, it was game on. 

You were certain you were going to win. All you had to do is find Charlie when you knew he didn’t have to film anything and try to withhold yourself from dancing if it wasn’t a part of the filming or rehearsal progress.

By noon, you had succeeded in one department. The only thing left to do now, was find Charlie. You knew he had an hour off for lunch and  that he’d spent twenty minutes of it taking a power nap somewhere on set. The only downside was, that you had no clue where he could possibly be sleeping  now. 

“Mads! Jer!” you exclaimed when you saw Madison and Jeremy walking up to you with sandwiches in their hands. “Have you guys seen Charlie anywhere?” The two glanced at each other before giving you a look that screamed ‘seriously, y/n?’. 

“What’s the best napping spot in the entire studio and isn’t used for anything today?” Jeremy asked as a way of responding to your question. 

Your eyes widened as the image of the bed popped into your head. You quickly muttered, “Thank you!” before hurrying your way to the set that holds Julie Molina’s bedroom. And there, smack in the middle of the bed, cuddled up to a pink cushion, lied your boyfriend. 

Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you nervously grabbed your phone and snapped a few pictures to make sure there was at least one that wasn’t blurry. Your hands were shaking way too much from the excitement, but you couldn’t just let this one pass. You had to win. If not just to prove a point. 

You rapidly scrolled through the photos and when you saw one that was in focus, you shrieked and leapt onto the bed on top of Charlie. He let out a groan at the sudden weight pressing down on his body as he shook awake. 

“I won, bitch!” you screamed out, doing a happy dance as you straddled his lap.

He rubbed his eyes like a toddler whilst giggling like one too before placing his hands on your thighs and saying, “I didn’t think you’d find me here.” He started rubbing up and down your jeans-cladded legs, a pout tugging at his bottom lip. 

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Seriously? This is the most infamous napping spot of the entire studio! I immediately came here when I couldn’t find you in your regular spot in the breakroom.” Now it was his turn to raise his eyebrows at you. 

“Someone else told you I was here, didn’t they?”

“Yep, definitely.” 

He groaned and then flipped you over, so you were lying next to him, and you let out a shriek before it turned into a giggle. “I already know where you’re gonna put my name too,” you mumbled. You pressed your forehead against his while tracing a heart on his chest, right above his heart. 

His eyes fluttered shut as he kissed your forehead. Placing it back, he muttered, “Let me guess, on my left pec, so you’re forever in my heart?” You simply hummed in response, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend. “Why are you so predictable?” 

“Shut up, you love me.” 

Butterflies welled up in his belly as you said that. He loved the overconfident way you always said those words. They were true. Very true and he loved that you knew that. But that didn’t take away the fun into actually reminding you too. 

“That’s true.” 

The following day, you took Charlie to the tattoo parlor to get his tattoo. You had told him a thousand times he didn’t have to do it, that knowing you were the winner sufficed, but he just replied with a, “No, I want that tattoo.” 

The tattoo artist asked if  you had a design in mind, so you handed her the slip of paper on which you had perfectly written your name in cursive and told her where to put it. She simply stated, “You got great  handwriting,” before showing you and Charlie to the back. 

“Film this for Insta, babe, so the people know I lost,” Charlie had ordered you sweetly as he tugged his shirt over his body, handing it over to you while he sat down. 

You grabbed your phone and started filming when the tattoo artist, whose name was CeCe, she’d said, started on his tattoo. Charlie looked up at you, biting his lip, and then reaching out to you. Without asking him what was wrong, you swung his shirt over your shoulder and took his hand with the one you weren’t filming with. He squeezed hard, nearly bone-crushingly hard, but you let him. After all, it was kind of your fault he was there in the first place. 

When CeCe had finished and put a protective band-aid on it, Charlie grabbed his shirt from your shoulder, and kissed you on the lips sweetly. You paid for the work and time CeCe had put into this, said your goodbyes, and headed back home. 

Pretty much every single one of the cast was waiting at your place, ready to see the finished product. However, Charlie wasn’t allowed to take the covering off yet. It needed to stay there for two to four hours before he could take it off. 

And once he did, you were surprised to not only see your name on his chest, but also your favorite flower worked into it beautifully. Confused and surprised, you looked up at Charlie. 

“When did you even tell her to do that?” you asked as everyone started to take pictures of the tattoo and of the interaction between the two of you. 

“Called in beforehand,” he simply shrugged. Shaking  your head, you leaned up and planted a kiss to his lips. Even though it was bat-shit crazy he even went through with tattooing your name on his chest, the fact he added an element of you made it extra special. 

That night, Charlie posted the video of him getting his tattoo on his Instagram stories while you made a compilation post of all ten of the sleeping Charlie pictures you had accumulated in the last week, along with a picture of his tattoo. 

@Yourinstahandle: Victory is mine! You are absolutely crazy. I can’t believe you went through with this. At least now I’m forever embedded on your heart and I’ll be yours forever. 💖 @Charles_Gillespie 

And with that, you immediately went Instagram official too. Following your example, Charlie shared a picture of his brand new tattoo as well. 

@Charles_Gillespie: Wanna bet on it? Forever mine 💖 @Yourinstahandle

When he joined you in bed that night, you went to lie down on his chest, only to receive a painful hiss from him, causing you to shoot up again. “GAH! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” you shouted, and looked at him in shock. 

“It’s fine,” he muttered and went to pull you back but you refused to. 

“No, Char, I’m not gonna hurt you for an entire night,” you grumble and crawl across his legs to lie down on his other side. “This feels weird.” You rested your head against the non-painful side of his chest. “But better than no cuddles.” 

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t have won, so I wouldn’t be in pain right now,” he responded, followed by a small chuckle, letting you know he was just joking.    

“You are the most ridiculous person I have ever met,” you muttered. Before closing your eyes, you quickly leaned up and pecked his cheek. 

“Wanna bet on it?”

*

*

*

JATP Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @caitsymichelle13​ @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost

Charlie/Luke taglist: @parkeret​ @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @lolychu @perfectlywrongformend3s @luckylouiebug @camiladelrio98 @myfriendscallmebeans

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! 

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch21: Her Hooves Set The Beat, My Heart Sang The Song

Summary: There’s a feel good factor at the Gallagher-Adler’s as Alex hits another milestone, but their happy little bubble his shattered with some bad news at the stables, and Fliss is forced to say a heart-breaking goodbye…

Warnings: Bad language, 18+, animal death.

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: So, for those of you who don’t know, Heidi was actually real. She was my beloved horse of a lifetime who I lost in July 2018 to complications associated with old age. At 28 I she had a good life, and for the 20 years I had her she gave me everything. Writing this brought back a lot of memories and was quite therapeutic in a way, but if anyone wants to skip over it for fear of being triggered, I won’t be offended.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 20

 April 2020

“Go away!” Mary laughed, pushing Fliss’ arm as she tried to peek over at what she was writing on the piece of card upon which she’d been designing the Wedding Invitations.  “You can see when I’m done!”

Fliss chuckled and backed away, hands raised, palms up.

“Okay, okay.” She walked backwards a few steps before she turned and her eyes fell on Alex who was in his pack and play loudly banging some coloured blocks together. He looked up at her and gave a huge smile before he shuffled a little to the edge of his pen and reached up, curling his hands onto the sides. As Fliss watched, he tried to pull himself up into a standing position but only got so far before he landed on his butt, and waved his arms and legs shouting something in, what Frank called Bean-Babble. Fliss grinned and moved to pick him up.

“Not quite mastered that yet have you, baby?” She smiled, kissing his cheek.

Alex let out another loud squeal of contentment as he perched on her hip and she made her way over to the kitchen area. There, she settled him in his high chair and headed into the fridge to grab him an apple. Since he had started eating solids it had fast become apparent that he was particularly partial to the fruit, something Frank directly attributed to the fact that Fliss had eaten so many of them when she was pregnant thanks to her craving. Fliss carefully chopped the fruit into large pieces before she placed them down on the tray of his chair, kissing his soft hair again as Alex grabbed a slice in his hand and promptly jabbed it in his mouth, making appreciative noises.

Happy that he was content, Fliss then turned her attention to their dinner. She soon had the base of the cream and garlic sauce for the seafood linguini simmering nicely in the pan so she then turned her attention to shelling and de-veining the fresh, king prawns Frank had brought home the night before, along with chopping up the squid and cleaning the mussels before she turned her head and looked over to the table across the large family room.

“Mary, do you want mussels in yours?”

 “No, they taste like snot.” Came the simple response.

“You know what snot tastes like?” Fliss pulled a face. “Gross.”

Mary didn’t reply, her hand was busy scribbling on the paper. Fliss shrugged and placed some of the sauce into a separate pan before she dropped some of the seafood through to cook, before pulling a cod and mash potato puree out for Alex for his dinner. Whilst that was in the microwave, she tossed Mary’s sauce through some of the pasta, before sprinkling over a little bit of parmesan and setting it down on the breakfast bar.

“Mary, dinner.”

Mary hopped down from the table and made her way over to the counter. With a thanks to Fliss she tucked in as Fliss smiled and sat next to her, feeding Alex.

“What time is Dad home?” Mary asked.

“I’m actually expecting him any time now.” Fliss glanced at the clock. “He has no meetings tonight so he shouldn’t be too long. Did you want him for something? I can call him.”

“No, I was just curious.” Mary swallowed her mouthful of food. “Do you mind if I don’t ride tonight?”

 “No, of course not.” Fliss gave Alex another spoonful of his dinner before she turned to Mary. “Is everything ok, Stack? It’s not like you to pass up an opportunity to ride.”

“Well, I thought I could spend some time with Frank.” She shrugged. “I haven’t seen him properly this week.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate that.” Fliss smiled, giving Alex more food.

 “Just figured if you’re at the stables and Alex is in bed, it’ll just be the two of us. No offense.”

“None taken.” Fliss chuckled, as Mary grinned and continued to eat. And she meant it. Over the past two weeks or so, Frank and Alan’s son had decided to expand a little and as such had been meeting with potential new suppliers, often working until later in the night, something Fliss knew was hard on him because it meant his time with the kids had really been limited to a quick hour over breakfast, the morning school and crèche drop offs and weekends. Fliss had assured him that the kids were fine, she was fine, and reminded him that he was doing this for the family, for their future but it didn’t stop him feeling guilty.

It was kind of ironic, when she thought about it. As she’d been expecting to feel the same guilt after going back to work full time but as she was self-employed, she’d been able to work her time-table quite well around the kids. She’d taken on another stable hand to help with the day to day chores leaving her free to teach more freelance in the area and school horses when they came to her for training. Joanne was now taking the group lessons completely, having passed her final teaching exams earlier that year, and Alex had settled really well into his day care, going two days a week to the centre round the corner from Mary’s school which had come recommended by Bonnie’s sister. The other two days a week Verity (and nine times outta ten Bill) came look after him or take him out, meaning on those days Fliss worked later- scheduling in evening lessons for clients as Verity would sort the kids dinner before Frank got home, and then on Friday, Fliss did her paperwork so Alex stayed with her . It was busy, and often required military planning as to who was picking which child up and when, but they worked it well, and Fliss had been very surprised at how easily they had picked it all up.

They continued chatting, and just as Mary had polished off her desert, Thor gave a little woof and padded to the back door as it opened and they heard Frank giving his usual jokey greeting.

“The boss is home.”

“Yeah I know, she made dinner.” Mary shot back and Fliss laughed, giving her a hi-five.

Frank walked into the main room and smiled at them both, giving Fliss a quick kiss before he ruffled Mary’s hair as she shoved him away, rolling her eyes, jumping off the stool to escape him.

“Good day?” He asked, and Fliss nodded.

“Yeah, not bad. You?”

“Busy, but productive. We got the final Price Lists negotiated so…” he trailed off, nodding to Alex who was smiling at him. “Looks like he enjoyed dinner.”

“So did Mary.” Fliss mused, nodding to the empty place on the side. “She ate a full dish of linguini and a massive piece of Mum’s chocolate cake. Think she’s going through another growth spurt.”

“Great, more clothes to buy.”

Fliss chuckled as she fed Alex the last of his peach and apple puree before she reached for a baby wipe and scrubbed his face and hands clean, much to the baby’s annoyance. She stood up to clear away his dish, leaving the spoon in Alex’s hand as he was busy banging it against the tray of his chair. Frank sat down on the stool she’d vacated, kissing Alex’s head. .

“Hey, Pal. Meet any hot girls today at crèche?” He asked. Alex shrieked in response, banging the spoon harder and Frank nodded. “Oh really? Well, you play it cool and she’ll be putty in your hands.”

“Like I was in yours?” Fliss asked, turning to face him and Frank grinned as he settled on the stool.

“Think we both know it was the other way round.”

“Don’t you forget it.” She smirked a little.

“Like I’d have a chance.” Frank winked at her and Fliss smiled.

“Do you want your dinner now or-“

“Oh, can I show you the invitation first?” Mary suddenly piped up from across the room and Fliss nodded.

“Sure.”

She jumped off the table at the chair and approached them, placing the card on the breakfast bar in front of Frank. Fliss stood behind Frank, her hands sliding round his shoulders as she kissed his cheek, both of them glancing down at the design Mary had come up with. 

The front was a simple square piece of card. Across the top Mary had cut letters out of a magazine to spell out the words “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED” and underneath it she’d stuck a copy of a photo of the four of them which had clearly been taken at Bill and Verity’s a few weeks ago. Mary and Alex were both looking at the camera, whereas Frank and Fliss were both laughing as they looked at each other as Frank held Alex, the baby’s back to his chest, supporting under his butt with one arm, the other held across his front.

“Where did you get that?” Frank asked, grinning as he looked at it.

“Poppa Bill.” Mary looked at him. “He said it was like the five thousandth attempt at trying to get us all to look at the camera.”

“That was Frank’s fault.” Fliss laughed, “He kept nipping my ass.”

Frank shrugged, before Fliss spotted one of his arms snaking backwards, blatantly intending on doing the same and she slapped his hand, making him give a dirty chuckle as he pulled it away.

“Turn it over!” Mary urged. Frank obliged and they both smiled instantly at the back. It was written in Mary’s untidy writing, in bright multi-coloured felt tip.

“Oh Mary, this is just what I wanted!” Fliss grinned. “For it to look bright and unique.”

“You haven’t read it yet.” She looked up at Fliss rolling her eyes, but before she could comment Frank started to laugh as he had and his chuckles continued as Fliss read the words out-loud.

“Mary and Alex Adler would like to invite you to their Mom and Dad’s wedding.” Fliss took a deep breath at the word, looking at Mary who gave her a small smile. Whilst Mary had referred to Fliss when talking to other people as her mom, she’d never actually used the word directly to Fliss yet. But, now wasn’t the time to dig into that. Fliss cleared her throat and read on “Frank and Fliss met at the stables. Frank was smitten, Fliss was too. But they were too dumb to admit it straight away. And then Frank took her sailing (not driving) on a speedboat. They kissed, made a baby and now it’s time for a party. (And a wedding too).”

Fliss burst out laughing, as Frank tried to gain enough control to read the final bit at the bottom, which was situated underneath the details of time and venues, before it went on to state their address.

“RSVP to Mary (not Alex, because he can’t read!)” He managed to wheeze out, wiping at his eyes. “Oh, Stack, you’re killing me.”

“You like it?” She grinned and Frank nodded.

“Mary.” Fliss’ laughter died down as she took a deep breath. “It’s absolutely perfect!”

Once they had finished laughing at Mary’s Invitation Prototype, Fliss and Frank ate dinner together, Mary chatting away to the pair of them as she sat at the end of the breakfast bar, sipping a milkshake, informing them both about her day, before Frank took Alex to get him bathed and changed into his pyjamas.

“This bath is supposed to be for you.” Frank grumbled as Alex enthusiastically splashed at the water with his little hands, those little babbling noises emitting from his mouth as he glanced up at Frank with his big blue eyes, making another sound that could almost have been interpreted as a question. Which, maybe it was. “You heard me.” Frank looked at him. Alex studied his dad for a second before continuing with his splashing, laughing loudly as he tossed a plastic boat to the end of the tub before he stretched towards it, then realising he couldn’t reach the toy, promptly burst into tears.

“Seriously, Pal?” Frank rolled his eyes, stretching his right hand over to retrieve the precious item. As soon as he passed it back, the over the top tears stopped and Frank raised an eyebrow. “If you wanted it so badly why did you throw it away in the first place?”

Alex responded with another noise, this one a gurgle and Frank nodded.

“Okay, understood.”

At that Alex looked at him, cocking his head to one side, making another puzzled noise and tossed the boat this time over the side of the bath, a grin spreading across his face as he studied his dad.  Frank arched an eyebrow. “You know, just because I love you doesn’t mean I sign up for this whole throw and fetch shit you got going on.” He picked up the toy and tossed it back into the water. “That’s Thor’s job.”

“You know, if his first word comes out a swear, you’re in deep trouble.” Fliss arched an eyebrow as Frank turned his head over his shoulder to look at her as she stood in the bathroom doorway. At the sight of his Mumma, Alex gave a huge grin and let out another gabble of noises.

“There are worst things it could be.” Frank shrugged, looking back at him.

“Like what?”

“Trump.” Frank deadpanned and Fliss let out a chuckle as once more the plastic boat came out of the tub onto the floor.

“Right, I think play-time is done pal.” Frank looked at Alex, who glanced up at him as he made sure to keep one hand behind his son’s back whilst reaching for his little hooded towel, which was patterned with tiny little ducks. “Come on.” No sooner had he lifted Alex out of the tub, the eight month old started to protest, dramatically, screams once more hitting Frank’s ears. “Oh, hush…” Frank chuckled as he lay him down on the towel before wrapping him in it and picking him up, rising to a stand and gently jiggling the now hysterical baby up and down.

“Anyone would think we’re tryin’a kill him, not simply dry him off after he’s spent fifteen minutes in the bath.” Frank rolled his eyes, an amused expression on his face at Alex’s dramatics.

“Well, he’s a right little water baby, aint you Bean?” Fliss leaned over to kiss Alex’s head as his cries suddenly died down as he had become instantly distracted with the buttons on Frank’s shirt. He made a little “oooh” of approval, his tiny fingers reaching to the ones near the collar. “Ha, look at that, he’s easily distracted, just like his daddy.”

“Yeah, well, I won’t deny, I quite like undoing your buttons.” Frank teased, dropping a kiss to her mouth. “Shall I dress him or do you wanna do it?”

Fliss took a deep breath, of course she wanted to dress him, she wanted to do everything for her baby, but she also knew that Frank had been out of the house early every morning and this was the first evening since Monday he’d made it home before bath time. With a smile she shook her head. “It's okay, you can do it. I’ll clean up in here.”

“Leave it, I’ll do it later.”

“It won’t take me five minutes. Then once I’m done and he’s settled, I’ll head over to the yard so I can ride and finish off. I won’t be too long, just an hour or so.”

“Then we got some us time?” Frank asked, almost pleaded and she smiled.

“Then we got some us time.”

“Perfect.” Frank gave her a soft smile before he kissed her again and carried Alex into the nursery. Before long he’d managed to wrestle a very wriggly baby into a clean diaper, a fresh romper suit and headed downstairs. Mary was now sat on the couch, her eyes glued to something on the TV as Fliss was warming Alex’s bottle up.

“You going with Fliss, Stack?”

No answer. With a raised brow he turned to look at Fliss who was biting her lip, trying not to laugh as he switched his attention back to Mary.

“Earth to Mary.”

With a groan she looked at him. “What?”

“Less of the attitude.” Frank looked at her. “I asked if you were going to ride?”

“Oh, erm…” She hesitated and Fliss chuckled.

“She wants to stay here and spend some time with you.” She smiled as Frank looked at her, then to Mary.

“Wow, me over Monty, I’m flattered.” He smirked. Mary rolled her eyes.

“Don’t get used to it, it’s only because I’ve not seen you properly this week to hang out.”

Frank snorted before he sighed. “I know, I’m sorry. It won’t be forever.”

“It’s fine.” Mary shrugged, her eyes back on the TV. “Not like I’m neglected, is it?”

“Good to know you feel that way.” Frank nodded seriously, before he caught Fliss’ eye and she gave him a wink.

He placed Alex down on the play mat in front of the TV and within seconds the baby had flipped himself over and pushed up onto his hands, rocking back a little onto his knees, emitting more excited noises.

“Mary, I’m just gonna grab a drink.” Frank looked at the Alex, before he turned to Mary. “Keep your eye on your brother will you?”

“Sure.” She shrugged, her attention now completely on the baby as she dropped onto the floor and shuffled over to him, talking to him as she did so.

Frank watched for a moment, giving a silent groan as Alex flopped gently down face first onto the mat.

“Oopsie!”  Mary grinned, and Frank braced himself for the dramatic screams, but they never came as this time, Alex managed to right himself and roll back over onto his back, giving Mary an excited grin and a loud shriek as Mary waggled one of the toys from the baby gym over the top of him.

Satisfied they were okay, Frank headed into the kitchen where Fliss was busy finishing off the lunches for the next morning, dropping a kiss to her cheek as he reached into the fridge, grabbing a beer.

 “You wanna do bedtime as you’ve not had chance this week?” Fliss asked, nodding to Alex’s bottle where it stood in the jug of boiling water.

“He’s my son, course I wanna.” Frank frowned as he looked at her, flipping the top off his beer. “You know, it’s not like I’ve been working late on purpose, Fliss.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Fliss narrowed her eyes at him as he took a long pull of his drink. “And you know it. So less of the shitty tone, thank you!”

“Sorry, Honey.” Frank sighed, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Just, well, I didn’t think Mary would have bothered as much as she had.”

“She’s fine.” Fliss shook her head. “And she isn’t bothered as such, she just wants to get you to herself for a little while. I mean, let’s face it, how often does she get chance to do that now?”

“True.” Frank nodded. “Maybe I should take her out on Saturday somewhere, just the two of us. Would you mind?”

“No, course not.” She shook her head. “I can take Alex down to the beach with Bonnie. You can always join us later on.”

“Yeah.” Frank nodded. “Sounds good.”

“And tonight, why don’t you spend a bit of time in the pool before she showers?” Fliss suggested, as she slid her hands up round his neck. “Then maybe when I get back, me and you could-“

But whatever filthy water-based shenanigans she was about to suggest, Frank never found out, as at that moment Mary let out a yell.

“Oh my God! Alex is crawling, quick!”

In a flash the parents rushed over to where Mary was sat at one side of the play-mat, waving Alex’s huge stuffed elephant at him, as he unsteadily made his way over to her, one hand and knee moving at a time.

“Frank, quick!” Fliss nudged him as she dropped to her knees behind Alex, her hands settling either side of his little body, getting ready to catch him if she needed to.  

“I got it…” Frank muttered, as he crouched next to Mary, his phone out. “Alex, buddy, you reckon you can make it all this way to Daddy, huh?”

Another few little movements later, Fliss’ sharp eyes saw the baby’s arms beginning to wobble and, just as they gave way she grabbed him and pulled him backwards, swinging him up and pressing her to his chest, smothering his face in kisses.

“My clever little man!” She beamed as Alex laughed, grabbing at her hair as she kissed him. “Oh my baby, you’re getting so big!”

Alex clearly decided that his crawling efforts were done for the day as he made no attempt try again as Fliss held him in position on the mat. With a shrug, she gently placed him on his back where he began to grab once more at the toys hanging over him.

“Obviously had enough excitement for one night.” Frank chuckled as he reached over and tickled the baby’s belly, drawing a gaggle of laughter from him.

“I’m so glad we all got to see it.” Fliss beamed round at them both and Mary nodded enthusiastically. “Right…” She rose to her feet. “I’m going to go ride and finish off. I’ll be back in an hour, hour and a half.”

Once she was gone, Frank turned to Mary. “Fancy playing in the pool for a bit before bed?”

“Errr, yeah!”

“Okay, well give me half an hour or so to get him down and then we’ll head out. I wanna see if you can master a back flip this time instead of a front one.”

***** Alex went down, as usual, with minimum fuss and once Frank was happy he was settled he changed into his swim shorts and headed downstairs. Grabbing the baby monitor screen from the side in the kitchen, he and Mary headed out to the pool, Mary wasting no time in cannon-balling straight in. Not one to shy down from a challenge, when Mary told him to beat her splash, he did just that. The two of them enjoyed a fun filled forty minutes or so, racing one another (Frank let Mary win a few, but not all) play fighting, diving and generally larking around as the sun dipped behind the eye-line of the fence and the lights in the pool kicked in, reflecting against the bright blue tiles which lined it.

Frank climbed out of the pool to check the time on his phone, and realising it was now almost eight, he told Mary it was time to get out. She protested, but he shot her a no-nonsense stare and with a loud groan about how unfair life was, she climbed out and Frank wrapped her in a towel before giving her a drink of water and then packing her off upstairs for a shower, promising her she could read in bed before lights off at nine.

He showered himself, pulling on a pair of sweats and a well-worn light blue T-Shirt, and by the time he had finished and headed across the landing to tuck Mary in, she was already out for the count. With a smile, he placed her book down on her night stand, gently kissed her head and then flicked off the lamp before he moved to the next room to check on Alex. He was also fast asleep.

He headed back downstairs, grabbed another beer and settled in front of the TV, giving a snort as he glanced at the time. It was now ten past nine. So much for Fliss being just an hour. No doubt she’d ended up chatting to one of the clients about something, as usual, which had delayed her locking up. Firing her a good humoured, sarcastic text about how he should grow a mane, tail and two extra legs so he could get a look in, he tossed the phone down onto the coffee table, frowning as it instantly began to light up. It was Fliss.

 “Hey, Honey, I was only joking, take as-“

“Frank, there’s something wrong with Heidi.” She cut him off, her voice cracking. “She’s got colic and it’s bad. I called the Vet and he’s on his way but she won’t get up. I can’t get her on her feet to try and walk her round she’s just…”

Frank took a deep breath, his stomach falling as he digested her words. He wasn’t clued up on a lot of horse lingo or issues, but he knew colic was fatal to some horses, depending on the severity. And even without the fact that Fliss was clearly concerned, he knew that with Heidi being as old as she was this wasn’t good.

“How long is the Vet going to be?” he asked.

“They said about half an hour, he’s on his way but as it’s night it’s an emergency call so he’s coming from home.” She took a deep breath. “Frank, I’m gonna lose her.”

“Look, you don’t know that for sure.” He placated her gently as he stood up from the sofa. “Listen, let me grab the kids and we’ll come over.”

“Frank, they’re sleeping.” She began to protest, “And Mary will be so upset to see Heidi like this, and if the vet has to put her to sleep then…”

“Then she’ll be mad as hell she didn’t get to say goodbye.” Frank reasoned as he made his way into the hallway. “I don’t want you over there on your own, sweetheart. Not if…”

There was a pause. “I don’t want to do it on my own either.” She whispered and he took a deep breath as he headed up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.

“And you don’t hafta.” He replied. “Give me five minutes. Do you need anything else?”

“No, I got everything here.”

“Okay.” He nodded, pausing outside Mary’s bedroom. “We’ll be with you in five.”

She sniffed. “Thank you.”

Frank stuck his phone in the pocket of his sweats before he opened Mary’s door and headed over to her bed. Standing on the bottom rung of the ladder of the cabin he gently leaned over. She was led, facing away from him, face snuggled into her pillow as Fred lay by her side. He raised his head questioningly at Frank as he softly brushed Mary’s hair off her cheek, pressing a kiss to her face.

“Stack, hey…come on, wake up.” Mary gave a groan as she pulled her covers up further, her eyes still closed. Frank spoke a little louder, his hand softly shaking her shoulder. “Mary, sweetheart, I need you to wake up, come on.”

She stirred a little, before she rolled onto her back, blinking sleepily at him before she frowned.

“Frank, it’s still dark!” She glared at him and he bit back the smirk at the fact she’d reverted to Frank, not Dad. Something she always did when she felt he was being a jerk.

“I know you haven’t been asleep long, but Fliss is at the yard and we need to go be with her. Heidi isn’t well, the vet is on his way.”

At that she sat up, all tiredness evaporating from her system. “What’s wrong with her?”

“It’s colic, Sweetie.” Frank answered gently. “But Fliss is on her own, so I need you to get dressed whilst I grab Alex, okay?”

“Okay.” She nodded, and Frank smiled softly before he turned and headed over to the nursery which was quiet bar the soft sounds of Alex’s little baby snores. In the stream of light that illuminated the room from the landing, he could see his son sleeping, halfway down the crib, head tilted to the side, the pair of them meticulous in the way they set him down at night. He crossed the room and gently picked Alex up out of the crib, the baby giving a little sigh as he did so but other-wise remaining asleep. He grabbed a little fleece blanket and as he made his way back out into the hallway, Mary appeared in her jeans and a red t-shirt.  

“Why don’t you bring your laptop or something, just in case we’re there for a while and you get bored?” Frank asked. “You can sit in the office with Alex.”

“It’s downstairs.” She answered. “I’ll go grab it.”

They headed down stairs and Frank settled Alex in his stroller which was by the kitchen door as Mary grabbed her stuff. Frank slipped his feet into his sneakers as Mary stuffed on her boots and he wandered into the laundry room and found a warm top for them each.

“Frank it’s like almost summer outside.” Mary looked at him, “It’s hot!”

“I’m well aware of the climate, thanks.” He looked at her, stashing the hooded tops and cardigan on the underneath space of the stroller, before he made sure that Alex’s little blanket was set around his legs. “But it might get a little breezy if we’re there later.”

Truth be told he had no idea why he was taking them, other than the fact it felt like something he should do even though it was still in the low 70s at night. He was a little lost, this was something he’d never dealt with before, and there was a sick feeling in his stomach that it wasn’t going to end well. But, there was no point worrying about it until they knew what they were dealing with. He had to be strong, be calm. Taking a deep breath he looked at Mary and nodded. “Get the door, Stack.”

By the time they had reached the Yard, Fliss had managed to coax Heidi to her feet. As Frank and Mary walked round the side of the barn Fliss was heading to the paddock, Heidi trudging behind her.

“Hey.” Frank looked at her, and she gave him a tight smile, not stopping.

“I’m sorry, but if I stop she’ll…” She began to explain but Frank waved her away.

“Do what you gotta do.” He watched as she cast a look over her shoulder. “I’ll settle these two in the office and then I’ll be out.”

After doing just that, instructing Mary to keep an eye on Alex and promising her he would come get her once they knew what was going on, he wandered back to the paddock and without a word simply took Fliss' hand in his as she continued walking Heidi. Frank could hear the horse was making grunting noises and every so often tried to stop and kick at her stomach, but Fliss kept walking, her face set. She didn’t say much, making a little small talk, but Frank simply stayed by her side as every so often they changed direction.

“Where the hell is this vet?” Fliss gave an exasperated sigh and looked around, almost as if she expected to see him.

“It’s not been that long yet, Sweetheart.” Frank soothed her.

“Well it feels like forever.”

Frank kissed her head as they continued walking and about five minutes later a dark blue Hyundai pulled up the drive and Fliss let out a sigh of relief as she saw it was Scott, their usual vet and not some random on-call one. She led Heidi onto the main area of the yard, the horse rapidly becoming even more agitated. Fliss gently ran her hand down her neck, as she turned to Scott and gave him a quick low down and he nodded, patting Heidi.

“Okay old girl, let’s see what’s going on…” Scott hooked the stethoscope into his ears and moved to listen to her belly, taking a deep breath as he looked at Fliss. “Yeah, there’s absolutely no gut noise at all. It’s definitely colic, but you know that already…” he unhooked the ear pieces, leaving the item hanging around his neck before he moved to her head and examined her nose to get a look at the mucas membrane colour, then did a quick check on her gums which Frank noticed were pale instead of the usual pink.

“She’s in shock.” Fliss sniffed a little, noticing the change in colour and Scott wrinkled his nose.

“Not uncommon if she’s in a bit of pain.” He stood back. “Okay, I’m going to give her an anti-spasmodic and some pain relief which should help, and a mild sedative so I can do an internal examination.”

 “Yeah, whatever you need to do.” Fliss nodded as Scott turned to head back to his car to prep what he needed.

“Internal examination?” Frank looked at Fliss, “Like, is he…” He mimed fisting something and despite herself, Fliss let out a snort of laughter.

“That’s exactly what he’s gonna do.” She shook her head as she gently stroked Heidi’s face, the mare giving another grunt and huff as she butted Fliss out of the way a little. “Still a sassbag, eh girl?”

“Like her mom.” Frank looked at Fliss and she shrugged, turning over her shoulder as the vet approached, two large syringes in his hand.

“Look, can you call my mum and dad?” Fliss looked at Frank. “I don’t think…well, Dad especially is going to want to be here if…”

“Sure.” Frank nodded and turned away, obligingly.

He wandered back into the office, Bill who answered the phone instantly asked him what was going on and when he explained he simply stated they would be there as soon as they could be and hung up.

“Is she going to be okay?” Mary asked, as Frank checked on Alex where he was still sleeping in his stroller.

“I honestly don’t know Stack, but as soon as I do I’ll tell you okay?”

“Okay.”

“You’re doing a good job in here, watching him.”

“Don’t patronise me, Dad.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s asleep, and I’m reading. Not like it’s hard.”

Frank blinked, before he gave a little scoff and turned to head back onto the yard.

The Vet was just finishing giving Heidi the first jab and he gently rubbed the horse’s neck and then nodded to Fliss.

“Okay so that’s the pain relief and anti-spasmodic administered. Take her back in the paddock and give her another couple of minutes’ walk round whilst it kicks in.”

Fliss nodded and led the horse away, waving off Frank’s offer to come with her, Thor trotting behind.

“What’s the chances, Scott?” Frank turned to the man and he pulled a face.

“It’s hard to say.” He sighed. “If she was younger I’d be optimistic but with horses that age, well everything like this can be a risk. If this doesn’t work then I’ll know more after I’ve done an internal.”

To their despair it didn’t work, and if anything after another minute of walking around Heidi had gotten even worse and her bright, chestnut coat was now damp with sweat, her chest area and parts of her chest covered in a thin sheen of white foam.

“Scott, she’s in agony.” Fliss sniffed as Frank curled an arm round her.

“The sedative will help more with the pain.” Scott assured Fliss, pulling out the second needle which he administered into the horses neck. “Atta girl. We’ll give that a minute to work.”

As Scott snapped on a pair of rubber gloves, Frank and Fliss both turned to look as they heard another car heading up the gravel driveway onto the yard. Verity and Bill appeared shortly after, exchanging a look before Bill headed straight to Heidi, giving her a soft stroke on the nose before Verity did the same.

“You okay, Titch?” Bill asked, dropping a kiss to her head and she swallowed.

“Not really.” Her eyes flicked to Scott as he moved behind Heidi whose head was now slumped down, resting on Fliss’ shoulder as the sedative had kicked in. No one spoke for a moment, before they all heard a heavy sigh from Scott as he pulled his arm back and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Fliss.” He sighed, and immediately her face crumpled and she took a deep breath.

“Don’t say it, please.” She begged, her chest tightening painfully as her voice cracked.

“Her gut’s twisted. The only option is surgery, but given her age and the stress that would put on her heart…”

He trailed off as Fliss shook her head, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. “I’m not putting her through that.” She whispered, “It’s not fair. She’s too old.”

“In that case then, well, you know what I’m gonna say.” Scott dropped his head as Frank softly placed his hands between Fliss shoulder blades as she nodded and took a deep breath “I really am so sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.” Fliss shook her head, sniffing loudly. “I don’t want her in pain longer than she needs to be. Can we…can we get on with it, please?”

The Vet nodded. “I won’t be able to arrange for her body to be collected until the morning.” He looked at Fliss who took a shuddering breath, more tears rolling down her face. “So errr, where do you want to….”

“Why don’t you use the barn at the back?” Bill cut in gently. “I can move the tractor out for the night. There’s enough room for her to go down peacefully and she can stay in there until someone can collect her.”

“Yeah, it’s clean in there and a soft landing for when…” Fliss took a deep breath before she began to cry as she pressed her face into her beloved horse’s neck, her shoulders shaking as Frank gently rubbed at her back.

“The kids are in the office.” He turned to Bill and Verity, “Mary’s gonna…”

“We’ll sort it.” Verity assured him. “I’ll take Alex back to the house.” She turned to Fliss and gave her arm a gently squeeze before she gently scratched at Heidi’s wither, her head bowing as she walked away.

The next five minutes passed in a blur for Fliss, and somehow she found herself in the barn at the back, as she led Heidi in, the mare following her faithfully.

“Do you want another couple of minutes?” Scott asked kindly.

“Just one, for us all to say goodbye.” Fliss nodded, as she stroked down Heidi’s nose, the tears pouring down her face. She turned to Mary who was stood with Frank, her eyes wet and Frank picked her up, carrying her over as the family crowded round.

“Goodbye, Heidi.” Mary sniffed, pressing a kiss to her nose as Frank gently gave the horse a scratch on the neck. “Frank says we all end up in the same place eventually, so we’ll see you again.”

At that Fliss let out a loud sob and clamped her hand over her face as she broke down. Bill wiped at his eyes as he dropped his arm round his daughter.

“Do you remember when we went to see her before we bought her?” He asked and Fliss let out a choked laugh. “She was in that field, and she came straight over, but so did that big black horse…”

“And she kicked it.” Fliss laughed. “Then she bit Steve. That’s why I picked her.”

At that Frank let out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, he held a grudge about that, still does.” Bill smiled softly. “God, you had some moments with her. Falls, disagreements, battles of wills, but you got there in the end.”

“She’s been amazing.” Fliss smiled, pressing her nose to Heidi’s. “Turned herself inside out to please me. The best horse I could ever have had.”

Bill smiled, before he reached up and stroked Heidi’s face. “Night, old girl.”

At that he stepped back a little, the three of them plus the vet giving Fliss a moment alone with her old faithful.

“Dad’s right.” She smiled, her hand stoking Heidi’s nose, “You were an asshole for the first four months but, I knew you’d be special, I just had to get your trust. You gave me everything, baby girl, and I’ll never forget you. I’m gonna miss you so much. Your stupid temper tantrums if I don’t pay you enough attention, the fact you rule the pastures…” the tears poured freely down Fliss’ face as she took a shuddering breath, pressing her head to Heidi’s, taking a deep breath. “Sleep well.”

At that she turned to Scott and nodded, and he stepped forward.

“Okay, you’ve seen this before, right?”

“Yeah.” Fliss nodded, “But Mary hasn’t so…”

“Right, so, Mary, I’m gonna give her the first shot and that’s gonna knock her out pretty much, she’s likely to rock back and sit down like a dog before she flops sideways so, be prepared okay.”

“Kay…” Mary spoke in a quiet voice from where she stood in front of Frank. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders and bent down.

“You sure you wanna watch this?”

Mary nodded. “Yeah. Heidi doesn’t know what’s going on. She should have her family here.”

Frank smiled, pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stood up, his hands remaining where they were as Bill gently strode forward and grabbed Thor’s collar, removing him from the barn and out of the way.

Within seconds of Scott administering the first injection, Heidi did just as Scott said. Fliss gently pushed back with the lead rope, guiding Heidi back and the horse fell onto her haunches before flopping sideways, her head landing heavily on the straw bales that Bill had positioned to cushion her blow.

With a loud sob Fliss dropped to her knees and cradled the horse’s head in her lap as Scott then bent over to give her the last injection.

“So now she’s just basically gonna fall asleep and never wake up.” He looked at Mary who nodded, giving a loud sniff as she reached up to grab Franks hand.

“You okay?” He asked and she nodded, wiping at her face with her other hand. Bill moved, dropping a large hand to the back of the small girl’s head as Fliss gently stroked Heidi’s face as the animal’s eyes closed.

With a final, laboured breath, the animal’s chest grew still and Scott bent over.

“She’s gone.” He looked at Fliss, who gave another loud sob, bending over to press her face into the side of Heidi’s cheek.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t fix you.” She cried, her voice broken. “I’m so sorry.”

Frank was surprised to find his own eyes misting up, and as Mary turned to him, pressing her face into his T’shirt just above the waistband of his sweats, he glanced up at Bill who had tears trickling down his cheeks. He nodded to Frank who gently looked down at Mary, who stepped back and moved towards Bill as he opened his arms, allowing Frank to move into the barn.

“Hey, Lissy…come here.” He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms round his girl who turned and pressed into him, her body wracked as she almost screamed out her sobs.

*****

It was pushing midnight before they made their way back to the house. Fliss had broken down once more as Frank and Bill had pulled the huge barn doors shut where Heidi’s body lay, covered by a tarp, ready for collection in the morning. The Vet had been nothing short of fantastic, as sympathetic and understanding as he could and for that Frank had thanked him profoundly as he’d been packing his kit up.  Without a word said between any of them, they walked down the little pathway and through the gate that connected into the gardens of the house and walked slowly across the gravel driveway. Fliss was walking a little ahead of them, every so often Frank would notice her hand falling to Thor’s head, almost as if she was checking her faithful dog was still with them as well.

She opened the back door which led into the mudroom and walked in, kicking off her boots and then headed into the family room where Verity was sat watching TV. She stood up immediately, took one look at Fliss and then she held her arms out.

“Mum…” Fliss choked and Verity swallowed, her own face creasing into sadness as Fliss stepped into the comfort of her mum’s arms, sniffing slightly.

“Oh, Sweetheart.” Verity pressed a kiss to her daughters head. “I know this is no consolation but she had the best life ever with you, she was so loved and looked after.”

Tearing his eyes away from Fliss, who continued to sniff softly as her mum held her, Frank gently turned to Mary who had tugged on his sleeve.

“You okay?” He asked, his hand gently cupping under her cheek and she shook her head.

“I’m just sad.”

“I know.” He agreed. “You will be for a while, and there’s nothing anyone can say or do that’s gonna make it better, but if you wanna talk about it…”

“No, I think I just wanna go to bed.” She shrugged slightly. “And give Fred a hug.”

“Alright.” He nodded. “You go up, I’ll come tuck you in, in a second.”

She nodded and then walked towards Fliss, hesitating a little, before she continued and gently reached up to lay her hand on Fliss’s elbow. Fliss broke away from her mum and turned to look at Mary, wiping her eyes. Mary blinked and Fliss gave her a soft smile, crouching down to give her a hug, kissing her head.

“I love you, Mom.” Mary’s voice cracked and Fliss pressed her face harder into her hair, pulling her even closer, before she pulled back a little bit and smiled.

“I love you too. And I’m proud of you. You were so brave then.”

Fliss straightened up as Mary walked from the room after bidding everyone a goodnight, before she turned to Frank who was watching her carefully, knowing from the way her face was crumpling that her emotions were about to boil over completely. “Frankie…she…” Fliss stuttered, her chest heaving as Frank stepped forward quickly. “She just…”

“I know…” He wrapped his arms round her and pulled her close as she began to sob, her face pressed into his t-shirt. He stood, his large arms holding her against him, one hand gently resting on the back of her neck, his thumb gently arching over the skin at the back of her ear as he slowly rocked her to-and-fro on the spot, pressing a kiss to her head.

“I’ll make us some tea.” Verity swallowed, and Frank looked at her gratefully as she passed, Bill following, the man gently squeezing Fliss’ shoulder. The room was silent apart from the clinking of mugs as Verity gathered the items she needed to make them all a drink, and Thor’s soft little whines of concern, the dog eventually sticking his head in between Frank and Fliss, nudging Fliss’s thigh with his nose, his noises of distress becoming more and more high pitched. Fliss looked down, Frank’s arm curling over her shoulder as she reached down and scratched behind his ear, before the dog stood on his hind legs, his large paws reaching Fliss’ shoulders as she stooped towards him as he gently licked the tears from her face, his noises dying down a little. Frank watched the animal, a warm feeling in his chest. He’d never seen him react in this way before. He knew from tales Fliss had told him that he’d often comforted her before once her shit bag ex had given her a battering, and he’d seen the dog seek her out when she was upset or worried, but never in such an overt way like this.

“I know you’re not keen on the idea.” Fliss sniffed, looking at Frank and he turned his eyes from the dog to her. “But, can he sleep on the end of the bed, just for tonight?”

Frank looked at her, then back to the dog. Having never had pets as a kid, the bond between a human and an animal was never something he’d really given a second thought to, that is until Mary had found Fred. But since meeting Fliss, seeing the way she was with Thor and her horses, seeing how Mary was with Monty, he’d started to really comprehend that the ties went beyond a simple love. They were bonds, bonds that transcended species, bonds that snaked their way around your heart and latched on with barbs and having one of those bonds wrenched away was not only excruciating but it was devastating.

In simple terms, it was like losing a member of your family, and that Frank could relate to. It was a physical pain, a searing knife which twisted in your heart every time you thought about the person you’d lost.

The lump in Frank’s throat grew even larger as he reached out and scratched Thor behind the ear, the dog turning to him and licking the underside of his forearm, his bushy tail wagging against Frank’s leg.

“I think we can make an exception for one night.” He smiled, looking at Fliss before he pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

*****

Frank was glad their bed was a kingsize. Whilst he never minded particularly that Thor would lounge on the bed with them before they were going to sleep, or in the mornings when they got up, having the big animal on there all night could have been a problem, but as it stood, the dog was perfectly happy to curl up round the peak in the covers which Fliss’ feet made, and she pointed out to Frank that he’d probably hop off and get on his basket at some point during the night.

“He used to do that, anyway.” She shrugged. “When I was in the annex that is. Asshole never let him on the bed. If he was ever away for a few days and I let him or Loki up, I used to have to change the bedding so he wouldn’t find out. One day I forgot and…well, you can figure the rest.”

“Shhhh.” Frank kissed her neck softly as he pulled her closer, her back pressing into his chest wrapping his arms around her. “Try and get some sleep, Sweetheart. It’s late.”

“Thank you.” She whispered.

“What for?”

“Just being you.” She let out a deep breath and turned her head so she could look at him.

“Well, that is one thing I’m pretty good at.” He quipped and Fliss gave a soft chuckle before she took a deep breath.

“I know you’re busy at the shop, but is there any chance you could start late tomorrow?” She asked him softly. “I don’t wanna be on my own when they come to take her.”

“I’m not going in tomorrow.” Frank shook his head. “And Mary’s not going to school. We’ve had a late and upsetting night so I think we should all take it easy, spend some family time together. I thought maybe we could go for a drive, head down to Bay Vista Park.” He suggested. “There’s plenty of shade to sit in. We can take a picnic, climb some trees, me and Mary can have a game of Ultimate Frisbee, perhaps a swim. Hey, we might even spot some manatees.”

“Sounds great.” Fliss agreed, turning her head back round and laying down on the pillow. It was silent for a while, and Frank thought she’d drifted off to sleep until he felt her take a shuddering breath and her shoulders began to shake.

“Hey, come on.” Frank pulled her closer, pressing another kiss to her neck and she turned in his arms, pressing her face into his chest.

“I can’t believe she’s gone.” Fliss sniffed, as Frank’s hand ran up and down her back.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I wish there was something I could do to make this better.”

“This is helping, a little.” She spluttered and Frank gave a soft chuckle, kissing her head again.

“Then you can stay like this all night.” He replied, closing his eyes as he simply held her close.

Eventually, Frank felt Fliss’ breathing grow even, and even though he couldn’t see in the dark of their room he knew she was asleep.

“Night, Baby.” He whispered, kissing her forehead and at that he heard Thor give out a little huff as the dog hopped down off the bed, his basket creaking before there was a soft thud indicating he’d bedded down there.

And, as Frank drifted off, he couldn’t help smile at just how the faithful dog had waited until he knew his precious human was asleep before he left her side. 

***** Chapter 22

Dedicated to  my gorgeous, wonderful, bad tempered but oh-so-loyal and loving chestnut mare, Sandybrook Hideaway. Keep waiting on that rainbow bridge until I find you again.

[wordupcomics]

Where are the rest of the villains in this AU? :0

So I've actually answered this question before, and was just gonna link you to the post....but I can't seem to find it so....guess I'll be answering this again...(I honestly wouldn't care if there weren't enough villains to fill a college campus 🤦‍♀️)

So a lot of this is repeated from the last post, wherever it is now 😂 but I believe I expanded on several of these villains too.

First let's cover all the villains as a whole. They are all no longer villains! Tobey went good at around 14 and ended up unintentionally inspired a lot of villains to slowly do the same. The last few villains gave up crime when WordGirl retired because they didn't feel like crime would be the same without WordGirl coming to stop them. A few years after Tobey went good, when several villains had already gone good, Two Brains and Tobey teamed up to create the Anti-Villain Association (AVA), which was intended to be a place where former villains and criminals could talk out their issues with other former villains so that they wouldn't turn back to crime. It's still running to this day and they meet once a week at Two Brains's old lair. They don't just keep it to their meetings, they also have fun functions and activities. For the most part the city doesn't think twice about the AVA, but you know there are always those people who don't trust others, and these types of people are convinced the AVA is simply a cover up, that all the former villains are still villains and are gathering to plan a teamed take over of the city or world. The AVA generally ignores these people. Many of each villains' respective weapons were destroyed after going good, but some weapons still remain for different reasons. Some weapons are nice to have for an emergency (Two Brains has rays that don't hurt people, just trap their feet with spray cheese, a nice thing to keep around in the event of a burglary), some weapons have uses in every day life (when making dozens of sandwiches at once, Chuck's condiment ray comes in handy), some felt it was wrong to destroy them for no reason if they weren't hurting anyone or anything (Tobey's robots who weren't destroyed by WordGirl are happily living in a very large cabin DEEP in the woods, Tobey didn't feel right about destroying them, they are practically sentient!) and some the villains felt were too dangerous to destroy (Mr. Big had more advanced mind control tech that he and Leslie were worried would send out a mind control signal if destroyed, rather than take the risk, they simply locked them up under high security.)

Now let's get into each AVA member (well I mean i guarantee I'll forget people, but I'm gonna try and if I missed a specific former villian you want to know about let me know):

Two Brains- The Steven brain was especially inspired by Tobey's actions, and wanted to be a good guy again. However he knew keeping the mouse brain at bay would be a challenge, and knew his only chance of being good was to find a legal way of getting his cheese fix. So Two Brains started making his own cheese. He even made a cheese aging ray to speed up the process. He ended up being able to make more cheese than he could eat, and turned it into a business. Because he doesn't have to spend actual time on the aging part, he can sell quality cheese for a cheap price, and it's a very successful business. I don't have a company name for his cheese business, but the slogan is "Evilly Delicious!"  His henchmen joined his efforts and still help with the cheese factory. One henchmen, the one with no name, had a daughter (also unnamed because I think I'm funny XD) that Two Brains always considered to be a granddaughter to him. She is aware of her family's past actions and is fine with it. She sometimes will help in the cheese factory but generally prefers not to. Two Brains still co-runs the AVA with Tobey.

Chuck and Butcher- Since they went good around the same time and did the same thing, I'm just doing them together. Chuck went for his dream of running his own sandwich shop, which started as a food truck and now is a restaurant, and Butcher partnered with him and helped him. Chuck makes the sandwiches and figures out the recipes, and Butcher helps and supplies the meat. They buy their cheese from Two Brains. Chuck has a better, albeit not perfect relationship with his mom and brother. Chuck also at one point made T shirts to sell in the sandwich shop...the only people who bought any were the other members of the AVA, and that was only to be supportive. The only people who ever actually wear the T shirts are Butcher and Whammer, and again, it's really only to be supportive and it's not very often they get worn. Butcher got married, had a son, and later had a divorce. The marriage was fine, and the divorce was civil, and he's really good friends with his ex-wife and her new husband. His son's name is Kale and he has powers similar to his dad, except dealing with vegetables. Butcher and Kale don't have the best relationship, and this is really on Kale's part. Kale's very prideful and shuts out help when it's offered to him, even if he needs it (which is often) and Butcher's instinct is always to help his son. Kale has a son of his own who he had at a younger age, and who's mother is currently out of the picture. The son's name is Baker, he's 8 and like his father and grandfather (and great grandfather!) has food related powers, his relating specifically to bread (bread, not pastries! Though Baker does like baking pastries!). Baker loves his grandpa and loves spending time with him. While Kale may shut his dad out when he needs help, it's nothing that would ever make Kale keep Baker away from Butcher.

Granny May- Oh yeah, she's still alive. TBH she's probably the oldest person in the city lol. She simply retired crime upon her family's request. She currently is living in an assisted living facility and is still going strong! She's in a scooter now, but still carries a cane with her for no other reason than to whack people of her own volition.

Mr. Big- Big really struggled with going good, despite wanting to. eventually he figured out his problem was greed and wanting money, so he went in the complete opposite direction and became a minimalist hippie. He currently lives in a trailer park, still has a collection of soft bunny toys and uses a walker now. He and Leslie are good friends.

Leslie- When Big went all hippie, he gave his business to Leslie. She, practically overnight, turned it around into a very successful, but also very sustainable and ethical business. Essentially it's Amazon if they had a heart 🙃

Whammer- Whammer loves his job as a professional demolisher! You need an unsafe building torn down? Call Whammer and he'll wham it down! Remodeling your kitchen and need it gutted first? Call Whammer, he'll be happy to wham your kitchen! Snow covering the ground and need the roads cleared? Call Whammer with caution cause he might accidentally pile all the snow against the buildings, trapping everyone inside, but damn those roads sure will be whammed clear!

Amazing Rope Guy- ARG got decent at rope tricks and is now an entertainer. He will certainly not be considered for America's Got Talent but if you want to entertain children at a birthday party and are on a budget, he's your guy! Becky and Tobey used to call him for every one of Theo's birthday parties (to support him) until Theo politely requested they stop. Now he's being hired for Julie's parties.

Lady Redundant Woman- over the years she moved up in her copier place, and eventually had done every position there. Now knowing how to do every position required in a copier store, she opened her own store and her copies are the employees. It's perfect because no matter what, she always has the EXACT right amount of workers, and technically she's the only one working so she can keep all the money for herself or her business (corrupt business people, don't get any ideas!). Dave visits her often and is so proud of her. She hates this. But she sure does love her copy store!

Ms. Question- She got hired onto the police force as a professional interrogator. As you can imagine, she's VERY good at her job. She doesn't even use her powers most of the time. That being said, if it was a severe crime like a murder and the person just wasn't talking or she had reason to believe they were lying or withholding details, she would be happy to use her powers, but most of the time she refuses to use her powers on others.

Learnerer- Is a detective! He watches suspects and learns their habits and can easily detect clues that will tell him exactly who it was if it was someone he's observed. He works with Ms. Question often and they're actually a pretty good team. How's that for a team up?

Victoria Best- When her and her brother were teenagers, they were taken away from their parents and put into a foster family. At first neither of them were happy for obvious reasons, they were just taken away from their parents and home. However, while Victor stayed loyal to his parents' wishes and refused to believe that they should have been taken away, Victoria soon began to see their parents for who they really were, and her own past actions for what they really were. She joined the AVA and made an effort to change, encouraging her brother to let go of their parents' control. She currently has no contact with her biological parents, and sees her foster parents regularly. She has one daughter who she loves deeply and always encourages her to just have fun with things. Try everything and fail with pride. Victoria's daughter sees Victoria's foster parents as grandparents. Victoria visits her brother somewhat regularly for small talk, sometimes she'll try to convince him to join the AVA, but she's learned to not push it. She really just sees him to stay in touch, her daughter has never meant Victor, and while Victoria would love for her daughter and brother to meet, she refuses to let them until Victor starts making an effort to be better. She still has hope her brother will come to his senses one day. Victoria runs a daycare, and did so because she wanted to be able to catch warning signs of poor parenting early in life so the children don't have to suffer in a bad household for as long as she had to.

Eileen- Inspired by, I think it was one of those "The Time I..." commercials Disney Channel used to do, Eileen learned that many people don't have the resources to have as nice birthdays as she does. She felt bad and started donating things to charities so people could have as wonderful of birthdays she always wanted to have every damn day. She currently runs her own charity, and if someone seems just a little too greedy, Eileen goes all hulk on them and turns into the Birthday Girl. People usually listen after that.

Hal- Hal sells his old blueprints for weapons to the cops so they can get a lead, and might even work undercover at times to sell current villains crappy weapons that allow them to get caught.

Coach- Instead of coaching new villains on how to be villains, Coach coaches newcomers to the AVA on the basics of staying good when you just want to commit a crime.

Seymour- Started  a Youtube series called "Can You Spot the Scam?" where he exposes scams around the city and gives advice on how to spot them and avoid them. What he's learned from this is: people are not very good at spotting scams.

Inviso-Bill and Big Left Hand Guy- Married. They got married before going good and before WordGirl retired. AVA members and current villains and WordGirl were all invited to the wedding. They spent a little bit of time as a married criminal duo before retiring. They still don't really know what they should do with themselves as good guys, they both sort of hop from job to job. But they are happy none the less!

Rhyme and Reason- Retired after WordGirl did, just didn't feel right to continue crime without her. They are in a QPR and like Inviso-Bill and BLHG don't really know what to do with themselves, but are happy just to have each other and the AVA

Okay I'm probably missing people, so again if your curious about someone in particular that I missed, let me know!

[obsidian-aurora]

Why I feel so sad for Xiao Zhan for winning the Weibo King award again in 2021

Right now you might see a lot of people spreading the fact that Xiao Zhan won Weibo King again with joy and happiness.  I can only personally feel sadness and regret.  Because when I look back at the year 2020, and what Xiao Zhan went through, Weibo had a big part to play in that story.  They took advantage of his pain to make money and profit from it.  They did little to stop what was happening because to them it was traffic.

His fans who left the 85 million votes for him for Weibo King probably weren’t thinking about what Weibo means to Xiao Zhan.  They weren’t thinking about how Xiao Zhan disengaged from the platform completely, moving his small interactions over to Oasis and Douyin to escape the toxicity inherent in the conversations taking place on Weibo.  All that they were thinking was “We want to show him how much we love him!”

Well you know what I think is love?  Listening to your own idol’s words.

Let’s take a small journey back through 2020 and listen to Xiao Zhan’s own words on what he wanted his fans to do this year.

I won’t rehash 227 itself - if you want my take on that event, then I’ll write another blog post about that, it being almost a year I’m probably finally reaching a point where I can discuss it rationally without bursting into tears remembering my own personal experience with it.  But rather, let’s take a look at what happened after 227.

On March 1, Xiao Zhan studio issued their first official statement.  What did they say?

Recently, we have noticed some controversies about Xiao Zhan fans, occupying some social public resources, and also causing trouble to everyone. We deeply regret and apologize for the impact of this incident. We are very grateful to all fans for their support and love to Xiao Zhan. At the same time, we also sincerely call on all love to be positive, and hope that everyone can chase stars rationally. While doing a good job of self-protection during the epidemic, we will work together in a more positive way and support things that bring positive energy to society.

On April 24, Xiao Zhan said something and his studio reposted.

@X玖少年团肖战DAYTOY What’s past is past, I’ll remember it by heart.  Thank you for all the criticism with good intensions, I’m working hard to improve.   

Xiao Zhan Studio April 25th 00:03 #肖战新歌光点# The light spot moves towards love. Please listen, @X玖少年团小战DAYTOY 's voice. ♥

And again, Xiao Zhan studio.

Xiao Zhan Studio April 25th at 14:27 Thank you for your love and support for Mr. Xiao Zhan and his works. In this studio, as always, I solemnly appeal to everyone to continue to take care of their study, work and life at the same time, and to distinguish the truth and not blindly follow in the thousands of voices. Thank you for your wise support. Every love, no matter how big or small, is a meaningful point of light, gathered together to form the most beautiful light.

When He Jiong was attacked, Xiao Zhan jumped in to say:

@X玖少年团肖战DAYTOY Sorry to disturb everyone, don't hurt others!

Xiao Zhan Studio April 27, 15:04 Please stop slandering and spreading rumors!

He gave his first interview after 227 on May 6.  He expanded upon the statement he made on April 24 when he said he was working hard to improve. He spoke about the controversy, the responsibility he feels as a public figure, and his desire not to control his fans but to guide them to do positive works like participate in charity that improves society.  He felt like as an artist, his role was to continue to improve his acting and his singing.  

“As for the people who love and support me, I hope they won’t do some extreme things, or hurt other people, or even hurt themselves.  I hope that they can protect and love themselves, and live their lives well.  Live their lives well.”  “And if it’s possible, outside of school and work, we can do things together to help others and contribute to society in a meaningful way.”  “I think charity is a part of an ordinary person’s social responsibility.”

Again in May, following a controversy when a teacher recorded her classroom cheering him on, Xiao Zhan was forced to make statements encouraging his fans to live their lives well.

@X玖少年团肖战DAYTOY Please listen to me carefully again! I hope everyone puts their studies, work, and life in front of star chasing. Study hard and work hard. Do your responsibilities and obligations, and abide by professional standards and industry bottom lines. I don't need help.

Xiao Zhan Studio May 10 at 23:26 I hope everyone puts their work and life first 🙏

Xiao Zhan Studio May 11 at 21:14 Starting from us, we hope that each of us can do things that are beneficial to society and be positive.

A school is a temple of knowledge, a place for preaching and teaching, not a fan factory for celebrities. Children's education is related to the future of the country, and the development of youth values is related to the hope of the nation, and it must not become a tool for chasing stars.

Furthermore, over the course of this time period Xiao Zhan Studio met with the organizers of his official fan organization and they rebranded the Fanclub to Xiao Zhan Film and Television Support Club to emphasize their goal to focus on his works and his works only.  They released a statement with their intent and called on all members to do the following:

Xiao Zhan Studio May 15 20:01 If you see the good, you will move, and if you have, you will change. Start with me and work hard together. 1. Do not support business and works with behaviors beyond our own economic capacity. 2. No more activities such as ranking, controlling and appraising and cheering. 3. Accept all well-intentioned criticism and don't maliciously attack others. 4. Continue to actively participate in public welfare advocacy. 5. Focus on Xiao Zhan's work such as film and music.

Take particular note here of the specific call out not to participate in activities such as ranking (like the Weibo King votes).

In July, when his own fans were accused of cyber bullying others again, Xiao Zhan studio released a statement saying that they would defend any victim of cyber bullying, even someone bullied by his own fans.

Xiao Zhan Studio June 30 at 21:42 No matter who is responsible for his words and deeds, we support all those who are suffering from cyber violence or personal attacks on the Internet, and bravely take up legal weapons to protect themselves. Regardless of who’s a fan, taking legal measures is a legitimate behavior 

@易胜华律师 Recently, some netizens posted on Weibo that they had suffered online violence for publicly publishing criticisms against Mr. Xiao Zhan. Entrusted by Mr. Xiao Zhan, we issued the following lawyer's statement: We welcome all kind criticisms and reminders, and resolutely oppose and resist all cyber violence. No matter who the cyber violence is directed at, it is an illegal act and should bear corresponding legal responsibilities. We are willing to provide legal assistance to the above-mentioned parties who have been violated by online violence, and we are also willing to provide assistance within our capacity for their rights protection operations. Yi Shenghua Lawyer Wang Xiaoyan Lawyer June 30, 2020

In July, Xiao Zhan and Xiao Zhan Studio met up with representatives from Weibo to discuss the cyber bullying that he had been subjected to this year.  But was this at Weibo’s own desire to clean up their platform?  No.  This whole time Weibo was profiting from every hot search that drove more traffic to their platform.  It was the Cyberspace Administration of China that DIRECTED Weibo to clean up their mess.

Over the years we have seen Weibo ban accounts from time to time that are so blatant with their cyber attacks that they have no other choice.  But often they will wait until stars pursue legal action before doing so.  And they will only release the real-world IDs of users when under a police investigation pursuant to a lawsuit.  I’m not suggesting the platform should start doxxing its own users, but rather ban all malicious and slanderous behaviour from the outset.  Right now under Chinese law anyone with over 30,000 fans who says slander against another can be pursued by the law.  Weibo should act before it needs to come to that.

Chinese Star News did an interesting video on Fanquan culture and the ways in which Weibo profits from it.  If you haven’t seen it yet, it’s worth a watch.

Ever since the summer, Xiao Zhan has been very careful and direct in all his public interactions.  Most of his events were pre-recorded.  Only at the end of the year did he start doing live events again, and when he was surrounded by friends he was okay, but as we could see from the recent iQiyi event when he is without friends around him he still struggles.

April 12 - Hymn of the Red Plum Blossom (pre-recorded)

May 6 - Interview with China News Service (pre-recorded)

May 9 - Bamboo in the Stone (pre-recorded)

May 10 - Mother's Day live stream (live) (unannounced) (no fan interactions)

June 11 - Xiao Zhan goes to do agricultural charity activity (pre-recorded)

June 15 - Xiao Zhan releases summer cocktail video (pre-recorded)

Aug 17 - Xiao Zhan RoseOnly live stream (pre-recorded)

October 19 - Xiao Zhan at Shanghai Reading Film and Television event (pre-recorded)

October 25 - Xiao Zhan sang Brightest Star in the Night Skies (pre-recorded)

Dec 20 - Xiao Zhan attends Tencent Awards (live) with friends around him

Dec 31 - Xiao Zhan attends New Year party (live) with friends around him

Jan 15 2021 - Xiao Zhan attends iQiyi Scream Night (no friends) (does not look happy/comfortable)

It must have been SO hard for Xiao Zhan to continue to work behind the scenes in 2020, recording his new show Ace Troops, attending some events in secret, shooting some advertisements that he wasn’t sure would be able to make it to the air - and some events that got leaked and then had his portion cut out.  It must have been so, so hard.

So to me, the least that we can do as fans is to listen to what Xiao Zhan has asked of us.  And over and over again he said that all he wanted from his fans was for us to live our lives well.  To not do extreme things.  He wants things to go smoothly.  He wants to take his time, to choose his events carefully, and come back at his own pace.

So what do his fans do?  They massively vote for him to win the Weibo King award.  This has put him in an impossible position.  

Either he needs to decline the award, and face criticism from everyone about being arrogant in a year that he should be grateful.  Or he has to suck it up and show up to an award hosted by a platform that did little to nothing to help him when he was in pain, and instead in fact profited from his pain.  

He will have to put a smile on his face and say thank you for recognizing that I was a high traffic star last year, even when the majority of his traffic was due to cyber attacks.

Why would his fans put him in this impossible position?  Back when this award was first announced, his own major fan club leaders requested fans not to vote for Weibo King.  If you wanted to vote for anything, then you should vote for his acting role in The Wolf, because that was about his professional work - not for Weibo King, which is literally like an award for Prom King.  It’s a popularity award, nothing more.

Will Weibo King help him to come back faster?  No.  Will it make industry leaders want to sign him on for more TV and film works?  No.  Speaking from experience working in the industry for many years, the only thing that industry professionals care about is ratings on the shows that are produced.  And Xiao Zhan cannot rely on his fans alone for ratings.  If his ratings are going to continue to increase, then he needs to attract the respect of a wider audience.  And if that wider audience is already of the impression that Xiao Zhan is a loose canon because his fans are out of control, this massive over-rating of Weibo King only reinforces that belief.

Just look at this graph.

Xiao Zhan fans are posting it with pride, saying look how well we did!  Xiao Zhan trounced the competition!  But the reality is that all other stars’ fan groups had also instructed their fans not to vote for this award, because they all see it for what it is - a popularity contest that can hurt more than it can help.  Xiao Zhan winning by such a large margin only shows how little his fans listen to him.

Now instead of Xiao Zhan deciding for himself when and where to come back, what events he wishes to attend, he’s going to have to make an appearance at this awards show and slap a smile on his face and say thank you.  

Thank you Weibo, for profiting off my pain.

It makes me sick.

If you voted for Xiao Zhan in this award, take a moment to think about Xiao Zhan’s words for your future behaviour. 

Live your lives well

Don’t do extreme things

Don’t spread rumours

Accept criticism and don’t attack others

Don’t protect me

If you can, do charity and help others

If you are following your own idol’s wishes, then I salute you.  You are the type of fan Xiao Zhan will cherish.

[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/

[overdrivels]

TWtaH Notes

I’m finally free. It took three years and nearly 150k words, but I’m finally done. I can’t believe it. 

It started off as a simple idea and a simple premise: a chef!reader who, while knife sharpening, catches Hanzo’s attention. It then evolved into a full-fledged fic with a plot and plot twists. Originally, it was supposed to be around 10 chapters long, but then it grew out of control over the years as I tried to figure out how to end what I started. 

In addition to being a redemption fic, this was also an information dump fic. Since this is the very first slowburn I have ever finished and I have the feeling I won’t have much opportunity to do the same ever again--I don’t think any other fandom would give me the ability to showcase all these tidbits like Overwatch does--I literally threw as much knowledge as I could reasonably incorporate as possible.

About plot changes:

Most of the original plot points survived the writing process, some minor ones didn’t for plot related reasons, so this surprisingly went better than I thought it would. 

There was supposed to be another scene where Chef faced off against Reaper in chapter 20 or so, but upon reassessing Reaper’s character, I decided he wouldn’t do that, especially not against civilians or put himself in harm’s way just to say something to Chef. He wouldn’t even say anything to his family in the comics, what makes anyone think he’d do anything to someone he had even less of a personal relationship with?

There were supposed to be more scenes about Chef’s fencing, but I couldn’t fit it in and it ended up being a one-trick pony plot device. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, but that’s how it turned out. There was supposed to be a scene where Chef fights back against Talon during their infiltration of the Watchpoint.

There were points where Hanzo himself talked his way out of situations and forced me to change the plot. In the kitchen when he first meets Chef face-to-face, he wasn’t supposed to get the chef to forgive him which is the biggest plot deviation I’ve had and it forced me to reconsider large sections of the story. Honestly, I think it’s for the better though because I was really at a loss as to how to progress the original plot under those conditions.

I also wanted to emphasize that when Chef left, there was increased tension between the members. There was little commonality joining them all together except for the fact they all needed to eat. In order for some parties to work, you have to have your support characters, and in that case, it’d be Chef. But I seem to have bumbled through that bit and made it less impactful so if I ever got a chance to rewrite this, I’d probably stress this bit more.

Symmetra was supposed to have a much bigger role in this, somehow she fell to the wayside with that one plot change in the kitchen I mentioned before. On the flipside, Ana and McCree got a way bigger role than expected. 

One of the biggest plot changes was Hanzo hating peppers. Originally he was supposed to hate onions but I thought there was way too much onion in Japanese cuisine to omit them, so I thought of something that would seem more ‘childish’.

To be fair, I also don’t really like peppers all that much either. But I sure as hell love onions.

The proposal with the miso soup at the end, the plot twist where the chefs are the real treasure, and some other minor details have been there since the beginning of the idea’s conception. Things like Reaper trading Overwatch’s life for the tamale, the name of the restaurant, and Hanzo’s fight with Genji only came after the fic was being written. 

Real life:

Covid really took its toll on me since a lot of this fic revolved around food, tasting it, experiencing it, making it, etc. I lost a good portion of my taste and smell, and it’s not back 100% even months later, so a lot of what I begin to describe after a certain point is just based on memory. If a pre-pandemic world, I would have been running around the city, sampling foods and writing down my impressions, but with things as they were, it didn’t pan out that way.

I tried to stuff as many of my favorite foods (and not so favorite foods) here as much as possible. There were a lot of foods I omitted because there’s only so much I could fit in here. A companion compilation fic of the Overwatch characters eating their favorite foods or just eating food in general made by Chef sounds really appealing right now.

May, June, and July made me really want to expand the story and include things in the fic that would turn it ‘problematic’ or at least morally ambiguous. If I did that, this fic would never be finished. 

Characterization and development:

Junkrat and Roadhog are much more docile in this story than I would have headcanoned them simply because food security is life-changing. I really liked the idea of Roadhog using his farming skills and being less homicidal with the right environment. They both know food is sacred. 

Argus 20 is in reference to Argus Panoptes, the all-seeing many eyed giant from greek mythology. The 20 comes from “hindsight is 20-20” (but now 2020 has a very different connotation and I’m thinking it’s pretty fitting). The reason for this is because she oversaw a lot of what was happening especially in the front of house. It’s not mentioned in the story, but she oversaw things like purchasing the restaurant, setting up the dummy accounts, organizing and obfuscating the donations, etc.

In case there was any confusion, ‘Tanuja Deshmukh Singh’ is Asim’s deadname. When he left Overwatch and became Asim Singh, his family disowned him. He was then free to live as himself, but he never discarded his last name because he still wanted to be connected to his family in some vague way no matter how much they disliked or denied his existence.

Head Chef Richard has been in jail. His backstory is basically after firing his staff to protect them from the fall out, he basically told the press he fired them for insubordination and took the fall for the kitchens and got quietly arrested. He was sent to the same prison that Chef would end up at. He’s not a very honest man, I don’t think, but he’s a character who was molded by the story and its needs rather than being a pre-established OC. 

I kind of wanted to write the fic in a way where Argus and Asim weren’t bad guys but people who were forced to make difficult decisions because of the position they were put in by Chef and by Talon. Cause, you know, sometimes you do things to hurt people without realizing it.

I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to push another ship in the background. If you see hints of different pairings here and there, you may be seeing it right because I kept flip-flopping between chapters as to whether I wanted to or not, and if I decided I did, I kept changing the pairings.

Hanzo. Where do I even start with this guy? I had a really tough time trying to stick to one interpretation of his character. I kept reading other fics and going, “Yeah. Yeah! I want that!” But then it just became a huge mish-mash of characterizations until I wasn’t sure who he was anymore. But I clung onto the thought of “he’s the first son of an Asian household dealing with his spoiled brother” to help get me through it. It reminds me of that tweet that goes, “You think you can hurt me? I’m the eldest daughter in an asian family.” It was so relatable. Channeling eldest sibling in asian family vibes. 

Chef. It was so hard. It was so damn hard writing a faceless character for so many words. I can usually do it in a one-shot because I can get away with not mentioning stuff, but in a slowburn?? It’s so difficult. Multiple times I had to stop myself or revise things because there were characters talking about Chef and I didn’t want to make the dialogue unnatural by saying ‘chef’ ‘chef’ over and over again. There were other moments like Soldier carrying Chef out of the Cellar and I was like: “What if the reader is taller than Soldier?!” It was a struggle. The other struggle was characterization. There were so many in-story stressful moments that I wanted Chef to start crying at but the timing of it was so frequent that I had to nix most of them or risk making Chef unrelatable. 

lol i’ve made several pseudo-cameos in the story because I’m shameless. 

Miscellaneous:

Man, my style changed so many times throughout the story. At some point I ended up writing outlines made solely of dialogue and wrote the story around it. It was oddly distressing when I realized my words wouldn’t come out like they used to.  

This fic has seen me through a ridiculous amount of crap. I kind of wished I kept a journal or something because these past three years have been nuts. 

After this, I’ll probably retire from writing Overwatch and then go into my usual writing hibernation that spans about 4 years before I reemerge with an unquenchable thirst for something stupid. 

In my nearly 20 years of writing fanfic, this is the first slowburn I’ve ever completed. To be fair, the last time I even tried was like...over 10 years ago when mediaminer was still a thing and didn’t ban CYOAs.

This was also the longest single fic I’ve ever written. I have wirtten 200k in a year before but never for any single thing.

God, this was hard. I partially did it to prove that you don’t need to use placeholders like ‘Y/N’ and stuff like that and it was possible to write a slowburn with gender neutral stuff, but I had to cheat a bit. But it’s done. 

I’ve worked in the restaurant business for a few years but not as a chef. It wasn’t even high-end either. I wanted to talk about the work conditions because it’s pretty tough in the kitchens and the amount of drugs and vices people turn to and the conditions in which people come to work is nuts. 

I wanted to cover a lot of controversial topics to see if I could but it just didn’t fit in the story. I wanted to tap into things like social justice, racism, prejudices, political landscapes, and so on. Even within Overwatch, I’d imagine there’s a lot of tensions stemming from just basic ideologies. I wanted to see if I could write about both (or more) sides of challenging arguments and still remove the author’s opinions from the story, but I’d imagine that’ll bring its own complications. Last thing I wanted was to start a fight in the comments or something.

I almost made the crew travel to Asia with implications of a changed geo-political sphere from today. Like...the status of Taiwan would’ve been interesting to touch upon, but I didn’t feel like I had the knowledge to expand on it enough.

Almost every waking of my life, I have thought or worked on this fic. During meetings, during conferences, during client calls, while I’m on public transportation, in different countries. I don’t know what to do with myself now.

Anyway, if you have any questions or anything or just want to shout at me, inbox is open.. For now I’m just going to lament over the fact that Genshin Impact gives me motion sickness and I can’t play despite working so hard to roll Mona.

[materialwoman]

outline  :    tammy’s  marriage  wasn’t  awful.    she  simply  came  to  realize  it  wasn’t  the  best  for  her,    and  after  a  few  years  of  leaving  herself  aside  in  the  name  of  her  family,  she  got  tired  of  being  the  only  one  giving  up  a  career  and  a  life  as  an  individual.  tasting  crime  again  was  the  very  turning  point  that  made  her  realize  she  could  still  be  as  happy  as  she  used  to  be,    and  just...  wasn’t  being.    even  though  nick  is  not  happy  about  the  divorce  idea,  it’s  an  ultimately  agreed  upon  choice.    they’re  on  good  terms.

                  now  ,  allow  me  to  ramble . . . 

 i  have  a  serious  desire  to  actually  expand  on  tammy’s  marriage  itself,    how  it  evolved  and  fell  apart  and  precisely  how  tammy  perceived  those  things,    but  getting  into  it  here  would  kind  of  steal  the  divorce’s  thunder.  what  needs  to  be  noted  is  just  that,    although  tamasin  would  not  consider  her  marriage  bad,    she  was  unhappy.    she  lived  for  her  kids,    with  second-hand  cons  filling  the  gaps  of  the  excruciating  suburban  mom  schedule,    and  that  was  about  it.    in  the  last  months  of  her  marriage,    her  relationship  with  nick  was  really  deteriorated  and  even  though  she  didn’t  properly  give  those  thoughts  much  importance  or  even  considered  what  to  do  should  she  ever  decide  to  put  them  in  practice,    she  did  think  about  getting  a  divorce.

it’s  late  july,    2018,    and  things  have  drastically  changed.    she’s  fresh  out  of  a  huge  con,    and  having  just  tasted  that  part  of  her  life  she’s  been  long  missing,    it’s  hard  to  adapt  to  the  suburban  lifestyle  again.    a  family,    for  sure    --    but  tammy  knows,    she’s  known  for  some  time,    that  she’s  not  fit  for  the  suburban  life.    she  was  made  for  the  big  city,    and  all  of  the  glamorous  stress  that  came  with  the  package.    she’s  waiting  for  a  reply  regarding  the  vogue  position  she’s  been  referred  to  and  has  been  secretly  taking  a  look  at  apartments  in  new  york  city  should  she  need  one  of  those  in  the  near  future.    she’s  been  demanding  that  nick  spends  more  time  at  home,    too,    as  she  arranges  some  of  the  contacts  and  references  for  that  job  she  wants  so  much.  he’s  given  little  room  for  thinking  ——

he  barely  even  knew  her,    that  much  she  realized.    how  long  had  they  known  each  other,    only  for  nicholas  to  not  even  discern  how  much  that  meant  to  her?    a  job  like  that,    the  position  she’s  been  dreaming  of  ever  since  she’s  laid  eyes  on  a  vogue  issue?    his  words  were  the  confirmation  :    through  his  eyes,    tamasin  was  the  one  to  blame  for  ever  wanting  more.    but  he  didn’t  know  two  thirds  of  who  she  really  was;    she  always  wanted  more.

tammy  makes  it  clear  she’s  unhappy  with  their  situation;    no  matter  how  mindless,    there  was  no  way  nicholas  didn’t  realize.    one  night,    she  tells  him  she  doesn’t  want  to  be  like  that  anymore.    tells  him  she’s  done  living  in  the  suburbs,    and  knows  she  could  be  a  better  mother  to  their  children  if  she  was  able  to  be  something  besides  their  mother.    she  needs  to  do  things  for  herself,    and  if  he  wasn’t  willing  to  be  the  man  besides  that  woman,    she’d  do  it  on  her  own.

his  mistake  was  not  taking  her  seriously  enough.    when  he  sees  it,    tamasin  gets  the  call  welcoming  her  into  the  staff  of  vogue  online,    and  she’s  perfectly  familiar  with  the  knowledge  that  their  marriage  has  come  to  an  end.    she  tells  him  for  sure;    she  wants  a  divorce,    and  he  can  see  the  kids  as  much  as  he  wants,    as  long  as  he  really  makes  a  time  out  of  his  very  busy  work  schedule  to  actually  care  for  them.

he  wasn’t  happy,    but  there  wasn’t  anything  he  could  do  to  change  her  mind.    there  was  something  instantly  different  about  her:    much  more  confident  and  hopeful  of  the  upcoming  chapters  of  her  life.    it’s  a  tammy  much  more  ambitious  than  the  one  she  knew,    and  tamasin  can’t  help  but  enjoy  it,    savouring  the  return  of  a  dearly  missed  self.    she  was  too  full  of  life  to  be  only  half  loved.    it  was  time  she  took  over  control  of  her  life  again.

they  split  everything  they  owned  together  and  share  custody  of  the  kids.    tammy  doesn’t  particularly  like  the  idea  of  not  seeing  them  religiously,    every  day,    but  it’s  only  fair  with  nick  and  fairly  accomodates  both  of  their  work  schedules.    for  a  short  while,    tammy  moves  into  the  “sister’s  apartment”,    where  she  used  to  live  with  olivia  and  louisa,    only  until  she’s  found  a  proper  house  for  herself,    the  kids  and  the  dogs  in  the  city.    

tammy  was  never  one  to  scream  to  his  face  and  fight,    only  argue  at  certain  things,    only  say  the  things  she  had  to  say  in  the  calmest  way    --    which  she  learned  was  the  easiest  way  to  get  someone  to  really  listen.    those  were  the  moments  when  he’d  always  end  up  hurt,    because  she  said  things  that  were  truths  he  mostly  refused  to  face.    she  has  no  resentment  from  the  years  they  were  married,    knowing  it  was  her  choice  to  move  in  there  and  kind  of  “retire”  from  everything  for  a  while    --    but  she  does  think  nick  could  have  done  a  better  job  at  being  a  husband.    she  definitely  blasted      madonna’s  sorry     in  the  car  on  her  way  to  the  city  after  she  had  that  big  final  talk  to  him.    no  regrets  about  that ,   either.

[heclingmuzik]

TIMELINE OF PAST AND CURRENT EVENTS

Some dates are inaccurate from the posted date and some don’t have dates, BUT I’ll be changing dates around just to fit her story a bit better and hopefully make sure things are more easier to understand. If I’ve forgotten to add any importantance between your muse and mine, please shoot me an IM!

-----

Arrived in Isola on January 24th, 2021. 

Upon arrival these are things that Ismael has gone through

On her first day arriving, Spirale was covered in sheets of snow with diamond creatures and diamond anything that would block the way. 

She was rescued by someone from those diamond yetis!

She found out that you can actually break diamond with diamond, and also FOUND KYRIE!

On January 26th, 2021

Curious about the hole, she decides to revisit it. 

This is where she meets the unpleasantries of the shadowy figure. She never got his name, BUT that shadowy figure looking thing is the cause of her first death. He pushed her into the hole.  to this day, no one knows. To this day, Kyrie does not know that Ismael has a tiny fear of heights now. 

{CAN’T FIND DATE} Was hired to work at Lovelyloaves by Mizi

On February 21st, 2021 she joined Big Dipper Talent!

Ismael has met and befriended plenty of people!

On April 1st, 2021

Game time? It’s weird and Ismael still doesn’t entirely understand what was going on, but it was fun. On her birthday, as part of the game, Ismael and Kyrie went diving....from the sky. Certainly a big step in that little fear of her’s!

She got a present afterwards! She hasn’t taken them off since!

She met someone shortly after. Nero. 

He’s looking for a way out, and despite hearing that it is impossible he seems extremely hellbent in returning home. Says he’s got someone waiting for him. Someone waiting for him shares the same name as her friend Kyrie. WHAT are the odds, huh! She has been searching for answers since to help aid him in this quest.

On April 6-20, 2021

On her way in search for parts for Nero, she decides to expand her searching by going to Yesteryear, attempt at Mistwood, and going through Fibonacci’s Shadier sides. 

 April 6 - In Yesteryear, she didn’t find anything, but instead met a man with a strange looking bird. Is it a crow or a raven? She still doesn’t know, but she’s beginning to think the bird is....pretty cool. 

April 10 - In Mistwood she didn’t even go in to check it out. This place will have to wait until she’s either with someone who can get them out in a pinch or just...when she feels she’s ready. Badou says there’s Deatheater? Deadeaters? Whatever the fuck. She’s not about to be eaten by no eatereaters. 

April 18 (Afternoon close to Eveningish) - Ismael tells Nero she wants to fight alongside him when he brings up that he might actually have to change his plan a bit. Says he’ll have to face the Stars first in order to prevent being brought back here. He won’t let her fight and that upsets her. They have a small argument about it. She’ll have to check up on him. Make sure he got home safe and make sure he’s okay. 

April 18 (Nighttime) - Ismael miscalculated the time and got overly cocky. If that’s what you can call it. She got stuck in the crowd and was rescued by a rather tall and scary man. He showed kindness, despite her screaming and lashing out because of fear. Same man decided to show her who he truly is by taking her to some building. 

IN an attempt to save the three men that were unlucky enough to meet Yamazaki in the same building for some shady business???? Ismael may have failed and may have actually been the result in them dying. 

During the time she is captured and held captive, forced to watch whatever unfolds before her eyes with Yamazaki and these poor unfortunate men, Nero sends in a text about finding someone who is willing to make his arm. She’s unable to get to the message until 2 days after in the evening. 

On April 21st, 2021

She finally steps out of her lone house to finally go grocery shopping that she’s been trying to avoid for the past couple of days since she got back from that night. A lot of stuff that she’d suppose to get done neglected.

In her attempt to be quick, in and out of grocery store, she meets Grimm. Someone she’s spent a lot of time with talking about music, playing, and listening.  .....If Grimm can see that something is wrong.... She’s really going to have to avoid seeing everyone else. 

On April 24th, 2021

It’s proving difficult to be at the house, let alone just the ward entirely. She used to actually enjoy being in Fibonnaci. Some of the people there are nice, but...Well, now she just wants out. No where is technically safe, but man, she really wants out of Fibonacci.

She’s been crashing at....one of the Branches. Yesteryear is one of them. She’s beenn sleeping outside in her makeshift camp for a little over two days. She will stop by her home to get more supplies and the things she needs, but only then. 

She’s more than likely going to check with the Stars. See if they will let her move houses.

She wants to ask the stars to move her, but again, the thought of ‘nowhere is really safe’ lingers at the back of her mind. She can move anywhere in the Wards or branches if that’s the case, but....HE will be there....Even if he isn’t. 

On April 27th, 2021

Ismael finally gaining the courage after talking to Dune, decides to text Grimm and Nero.

She tells them what happened that night with Yamazaki. She’s not ready to talk to Kyrie about the event and isn’t quite sure when she will be ready. 

Currently she is crashing at Grimm’s. Occasionally will crash at Nero’s, because she doesn’t want to just burden the one. Sometimes, she’ll be outside, in one of the branches. Sometimes she’ll tell the two where she’s going and other times she will not.

Kyrie remains to be in the dark about the whole situation, as through text, Ismael can pretend that everything IS fine to a perfect T. 

On April 30th, 2021

She hits V up in hopes that he and his friend would be available to help her with a task. She’s been working on her archery skill and decided that in order to work on the small fear of heights, she’d pick up parkouring. Makes sense, right? Let’s see how this all goes.

On May 1, 2021

Ismael was once again debating on if she should venture into Mistwood or not. Only this time, instead of it being Badou to stop her in her tracks, it is none other than V. Where did he even come from? And will she ever actually check the woods out?

Don’t remember exact date

Ismael’s purchase of her Bow and fire elemental fragmentation were delivered to her. She’s been practicing more often. She also received her hoverboard as well.

On  May 2nd, 2021

Ismael has once again come across Yamazaki. This time nothing happened and weirdly enough, it...was as if he was trying to help her get rid of that fear? Too bad he’s extremely unpredictable and what’s done is done. Though, she can’t deny that she hopes that ONE day she can actually look at him without fearing. That one day she can say his name without the memories of what happened...Or even if the memories are still there, she’s able to hold her ground and stay strong. 

Until then, she’s practicing. She’s working on bettering herself, strengthen herself both mentally, emotionally, and physically. 

She is getting a little better. Still nightmares plague her during the night, but she’s able to talk about what happened. May not be in full details, but it’s enough to understand ‘ah, so that’s what Ismael went through.’ 

Trying to face her fears is a lot harder than she thought. BUT she’s working on it. She’s hoping that even through fear she will be brave. 

And every day, Ismael is reminded that she does have people here who cares for her and her them. It just makes these little horrible moments just a tad bit more bearable. She has so many people to thank!

And yes, this very same day she’s made her way into the woods. It may have been because she wasn’t thinking where she was running until it was too late. Whoops. Here, she’s met Mew. The pink cat that Nero helped. 

On May 4th, 2021

Ismael decides to ask Nero a favor. She asks him if he would be okay in going to that building where she had been held captive and check for those bodies that she had left behind. 

Nero ended up sent to the hospital when an unexpected turn of event led him and another guy there. 

She feels guilt and blames herself for Nero’s injuries. 

At the hospital on the same day while waiting for Nero, she meets Yamazaki again. 

On May 8th, 2021

Ismael takes Nero’s words to heart from before when he got injured. When they were at the park he had said something along the lines of not holding something from someone. That being honest was more better. She decides to tell Kyrie of the things that she had suffered through. 

Ismael is significantly getting better at not just archery, but handling things that has been happening in her life. The nightmares are still there. Sometime she catches herself in tears when she wakes, or a yelp in the middle of her sleep. Still, Ismael is doing her best!

On June 4th, 2021

There was an art museum that Ismael decided to attend to. Upon seeing a portrait, she finds out from Kyrie that the art is Yaira. 

That very same day, everything in the museum comes to life and starts attacking people, including there being monsters added onto the chaos. 

Ismael does not make it through. She ends up being injured fairly badly and passes away from said injury by the very hands of Yaira (an evil portrait.)

In the moment of her passing, she gets to meet Yaira (The good portrait that Kyrie made.)

On July 10th, 2021

Ismael undergoes a extremely life-changing situation. The stars manages to throw Ismael back into her world but reverse time with Ismael’s memories of Isola intact and was told that she’d remember bits and pieces and the more she continued onward the more memories she’d remember.

With the option to leave at any time, Ismael continued through her memory to the end and found out that Yaira was her sister all along. 

Currently Ismael suffers from guilt, anger, self-hate, and so much more. She hasn’t been taking care of herself but still continues on with music, training,  and her faith....If only to try and push through. 

On July 21st

Ismael decides to contact Kyrie after a few days of just sending them texts to ask them about Yaira. She has a lot of questions and hopes that Kyrie can help her with them. She’s not entirely sure how she’s going to take any information if it turns out that Kyrie knew something and kept it from her. 

MORE TO BE ADDED

will be updated accordingly!

[punkscowardschampions]

Dash & Lux

Dash: ☀️🧙🏽‍♀️🎶🥁🎸🪕🧚🏿‍♂️🌿🌼🧚🔮💃💫🔥🕺🏻🌳💗🍯🍻

Lux: That is almost exactly what the inside of my head looks like right now!!!

Lux: Is mind-reading a power that is bestowed upon you believers this eve?! 🤔😲

Dash: Right on

Dash: it’s one of many, trust

Lux: I’m ever sadder I can only be an observer now

Lux: Telepathy would be the most useful!

Dash: you gotta open your 👀 at least twice

Lux: I can 👀 at it, all of it in its splendour, just not participate

Dash: Bummer! What’s got you backing off? You don’t look like no wallflower chick to me

Lux: I got the dress code 🌻🌻🌻

Lux: Sunflowers are so strong-looking for flowers, don’t you think?

Lux: Not dainty and delicate

Lux: Well, I’m a Christian and technically this is a Pagan ritual so it’s a big 🚫🚫

Lux: I am finding it super interesting though

Dash: they don’t look strong, they are, babe 🌻🌻🌻 cleaned up Chernobyl, it’s far out what they can do

Dash: its roots, yeah, but we’re not all pagans here & we all still find something to celebrate, you could do St John the Baptist’s birthday as a christian, bonfires were big for that too

Lux: Whaaaaaaaaaat????! TELL ME MORE

Dash: about 🌻🌻🌻 or 🎂🔥🎇🎆?

Lux: 🌻🌻🌻 birthdays are contentious too

Dash: Helianthus annuus, from the Greek helios, meaning ☀️ they can remove poisonous chemicals & metals from the ground, water or air

Dash: they spread rapidly & can stabilize if not totally clear a field in 3 years, it’s 🤯

Lux: I wish I’d gone to school

Lux: Do you know any more fascinating things?

Lux: That sounds like magic

Dash: the world’s full of magic, but it wasn’t school that taught me to recognize it

Lux: Share the secret, kind sir

Dash: you’ve got the 🔑 & this here’s your kingdom, all you have to do is hang out & stay hip to what you 👀👂👃👅

Dash: 🧠➡️⬅️⬆️⬇️↗️↘️↙️↖️↪️↩️⤴️⤵️

Lux: I’ve 👅 so many wondrous tastes today

Lux: I feel full in so many senses of the word

Lux: How long have you been a member of the kingdom, stranger?

Dash: quest accepted to lay that feeling on you in every sense, then it’ll be a rad celebration

Dash: I’ve been here since I could walk, everywhere else is too big a drag to keep me

Lux: Oh, that’s so kind!

Lux: Everyone is so open and willing to teach me things

Lux: For instance, quick, when’s your birthday, wolf boy

Dash: it’s that kinda space 🦊

Dash: 20th of January 🎂 got me on the cusp ♑♒

Lux: Twins!

Lux: My birthday, which I’ve never celebrated before, is the 20th of March 😱

Lux: Someone, I’m not sure who, was just telling me about the Celtic tree signs

Lux: ‘If you were born in the month of the birch, you probably have a fresh and unusual outlook on life. People born under this Celtic tree astrology sign tend to be highly driven and are always full of zeal and ambition. They always want more and try to reach new horizons and expand their knowledge. Some of the characteristics attributed to the Birch sign are tolerance, toughness, and leadership. The Birch signs can brighten a room with their smile and quickly charm other people’

Lux: Yay or nay 🐺

Dash: you charmed so far or nah? [obviously smiling at her wherever she is as well like heyyy]

Lux: [definition of this emoji 🤭]

Dash: What’s your celtic tree sign?

Lux: ‘Those born under the Alder sign are natural pathfinders. They have the ability to move people and quickly gain followers to their cause. The Alders have a way with words, mingle easily and people love to be around them. They possess a mystic charisma, confidence and strong self-faith. Other character traits are: a good focus on goals and ideas, can’t tolerate fluff and waste.’

Lux: I am unsure but flattered 😊😊😊

Dash: I dig it

Dash: they let you know if we’re compatible? Your ♓♈ cusp makes you mad desirable to all signs

Lux: You need to see who here was born 15th April to 12th May or 2nd September to 29th September

Lux: But it says I’m compatible with you, so how does that work?! 😣

Lux: There’s so much I have to get my head ‘round

Dash: You’re gonna be 🥰💖 for me while I’m 🔍 for a 🐈 or 🐤 born on those dates?

Lux: Hey, that’s way less nice!

Lux: but I can also be looking for people born 13th May to 9th June AND 10th June to 7th July so 😋

Dash: those signs are full of it, trying to make me look uncool but don’t sweat it, I’d never cut you that low, like

Lux: If it’s not in the 💫s I can still say I’m pleased to meet you today as friends, Mowgli

Dash: Look up

Dash: if you don’t see a 🌠 I can show you a 🐺🌟 & 🦊🌟 chasing each other across the sky

Lux: [obviously literally does]

Lux: That’s very Disney 🏰✨

Dash: is that allowed?

Lux: I watched some at a friend’s house one time

Dash: & how was it?

Lux: 😭 but romantic

Dash: Anyone told you the oak king story yet?

Lux: Okay, thank Goodness

Lux: this lady with the dreads and the big back tattoo tried to tell me but I couldn’t understand her 🙊

Lux: Redeem your gentlemanly reputation and save both of us the embarrassment

Lux: Her accent was wild! 🤯

Dash: did her version start with Fadó, fadó?

Dash: wouldn’t be a wild guess

Lux: I won’t credit you with any telepathic skills this time, then

Lux: also I’d need to 👂 it again to confirm fully but yes, I think so

Dash: [send her an utterly unnecessary voice memo]

Lux: It sounds more intriguing when you say it

Dash: [obviously gotta tell her the full story in an irish voice memo purely for the #flex and the flirt cos you know damn well you’re gonna have to translate it, boy]

Lux: 🤩

Lux: Did you learn that here too?

Lux: I’ve lived so many different places and yet I only know the one language

Dash: My ma started it but when the establishment took over it was a bad scene & turned me off for time, last few years here it felt groovy again having that connection & I refound the 💚☘️

Lux: It’s really cool

Lux: it sounds old, or like elvish or something else not real

Dash: it’s a trip, you’ve gotta get someone to teach you while your fly by lasts

Lux: Oh, I live here 😊

Lux: I room with Nora, do you know her?

Dash: Beats me, what’s her deal?

Lux: Her and her brother Finley have been here for a while, but not forever like you

Lux: but there are a lot of people here so I’m not surprised you’re not sure 😅

Dash: not a clue but loads of people are too rattled to wanna get involved, could be her vibe

Dash: or she just ain’t outta sight like you

Lux: She’s totally involved, she secured like all of the sunflowers for today

Lux: well, me and Amber helped but she was definitely the most enthusiastic

Dash: 🌻👑! I do know her, but her in with Amber & instant karma means she’s not gonna mess around with me

Lux: Ooh, what did you do

Dash: jack, Amber’s hassling me cos I’m not trying to be her old man, she gets super rash & things get heavy with 0 slack

Lux: Hmm I shouldn’t have asked 🤐🙉

Dash: ask her why she’s making a move on my older bro now if not to try & lay a trip on me, babe’s lost it

Lux: Whaaaaaaa

Lux: You have a brother?!

Lux: Is he invisible?

Dash: I wish

Lux: Which one is he, point him out

Dash: [points in the direction of their house lol]

Lux: [a face of understanding like oh okay]

Lux: How does Amber know him then?

Dash: from stalking me

Lux: I don’t think she would do that

Lux: She must’ve just bumped into him or something

Dash: at my house, yeah

Lux: It’s cool, it’s not really my business

Dash: open 👀 like I said

Lux: 📖

Dash: that too 🧠💗🤲

Lux: I can agree with that sentiment

Dash: we’re groovy then

Lux: Of course 😊

Lux: enjoy your evening

Dash: back at you, golden girl ☀️🎇👸🏼

Lux: I like your outfit too

Lux: it’s very ☀️🧙🏽‍♀️🎶🥁🎸🪕🧚🏿‍♂️🌿🌼🧚🔮💃💫🔥🕺🏻🌳💗🍯🍻

Dash: [comes over and ties a chain of flowers around her wrist like it’s a friendship bracelet energy]

Lux: [clearly delighted with this]

Dash: [ask her if she wants to dance even though you know damn well she’s only observing because kind of boy you are]

Lux: [so rude lowkey when she’s struggling so hard with what she does and doesn’t believe now, we’re in enough of a dilemma without your help but there we go; thus we will go dance with you because we do want to and we can make arguments that that isn’t joining in with the rituals of it all]

Dash: [he’s lucky Amber is busy because she would fight him, but instead enjoy your dance you two]

Lux: [the audacity of your lies about her, we were so awkward like 😬 anyway, we will have a nice dance though]

Dash: [such a dickhead he can only be humbled by fire, full offense Nora because we’re ignoring you hen cos you’re clearly wise to his bs]

Lux: [there’s clearly a growing group of gals who are unimpressed by your nonsense and that will be interesting to navigate]

Dash: [Definitely, but yeah probably do slip away like a snek before any of those gals do kick your ass]

Lux: 🎃👠🐁🌠🕛

Dash: A 📘 for the 🔥

Lux: 🤔?

Dash: it’s a drag, all that heavy shit with her fam is a bummer, she gets to split but only til 🕛 that’s some 🌠

Lux: Yeah, it’s enough to get help though and then she gets saved

Dash: nah, to get shafted, she don’t get to dance with anyone else there, it’s a scam

Lux: 😅 who else does she need, she’s got the prince, silly!

Dash: someone who recognizes her next day?

Lux: Touche 😏

Lux: Being a 🤴 is a lot of work

Dash: What 🤴 told you that?

Lux: Where to begin

Lux: I’ve known several who would say as much and the 👸s would never disagree

Dash: Fadó, fadó, fadó a bhí ann…

Dash: but I’d shut it down from the beginning, they gotta be shining you on

Lux: I’m going to have to have translate open constantly, I see 😰

Lux: but very noble

Dash: I try, like you & your ☘️ it’s chill we’ve all got your back

Lux: It would be way worse if it was the only language any of you spoke

Lux: thank goodness 😅

Lux: there’s lots more that’s more pertinent for me to get a grip on

Dash: 🧝🧝🏻‍♀️🧝🏽🧝🏾‍♀️

Dash: we’ve got you on the rest too, like, goes without saying

Lux: Most everyone has been super welcoming

Dash: how long have you lived here?

Lux: Not long enough that that’s insulting 😋

Lux: but gosh, a couple of weeks? Must be

Dash: nah I meant cos I don't wanna explain to you what sorta place this is like you're fresh through the door if you've had loads of time to find your own way

Lux: Oh no, I’m a total n00b

Lux: Hazel got me here but I’ve kinda just been left to it since

Lux: Anything you wanna tell me would be appreciated

Dash: did Amber or Nora give you the tour?

Lux: Amber’s been super busy and Nora likes to stay in our room mostly

Dash: not super welcoming

Dash: but it’s no sweat, I’ll show you round, we’ll have a blast

Lux: they’ve both got their own stuff going on, I don’t expect them to drop it for me

Lux: but that would still be cool, thank you!

Dash: say when

Dash: it’ll be as electric under the ☀️ as the 🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌙

Lux: I can 👀 in the dark

Lux: You choose

Lux: find me when you’ve stopped having the MOST fun?

Dash: 🐺🐾🦊

Dash: Meet me in the orchard at midnight, ditching your shoes before

Dash: there’s an 🍏🌳🍎 you can 👀 the whole farm from the top of

Lux: And you’ll remember what I look like?

Dash: you look unreal

Dash: unforgettable

Lux: I got creative with the arts and crafts 🌟⚡️☀️

Lux: I’ve always made my own clothes

Lux: well, I made them for my sisters before

Lux: looking unforgettable was not the end goal there though

Lux: that was for secret

Dash: my nan would be hip to you, she used to make her own clothes, for her girl & her sister too when they wanted, it’s still a vibe for her

Lux: I will make her something then

Lux: what’s her style?

Dash: indescribable

Dash: I’ll show you pics

Lux: Awkward if your nan is cuter than you

Dash: at our age she totally was

Lux: Awh, you’re so sweet

Lux: I have nothing nice to say about my meemaw

Dash: keep it for mine when you meet her

Lux: You’re gonna introduce me to your nan? 😊

Dash: right on, she’ll wanna put whatever you make on for you to 👀 & it’s only a few fields over

Lux: 🏞 it’s a crazy beautiful spot to live, that’s for sure

Lux: so you live with her?

Dash: Yeah, my ma grew up there & when my parents called it quits she wanted to move back

Lux: You’re close-knit

Lux: that’s special

Dash: closer than I am to my da

Lux: Does that upset you?

Dash: I don’t let it upset my equilibrium, he’s uptight, that’s his problem not mine

Lux: I understand

Lux: I don’t agree with my dad on a lot of things

Lux: it’s still sad though

Dash: I got killer people round me, a 2nd family here accepting me for who I am, it ain’t cool he don’t, but they give me what I need

Lux: I’m happy for you

Lux: Seriously

Lux: again, that’s special, you should be really grateful

Dash: I am, believe me

Dash: you’re gonna scope out how special it is here now I’m in charge of showing you everything

Lux: I’d love to see your 🌍 how you see it

Lux: Kinda sounds like everything I need, honestly

Dash: you can, easily when we’re sharing a branch

Lux: 🧚‍♀️ you’re dainty, I trust you won’t let me fall

Dash: I’ll let you fall into something good though, new heights

Lux: Will it hurt?

Dash: no way

Lux: You aren’t pranking me, are you?

Dash: there’s no plastic on me, I’m being real with you

Lux: If you’re gonna try and jump me out in the orchard I’ll have to show you crazy and I really can’t afford to lose this place okay

Lux: so if I believe you right now and you were lying, it’ll be worse than it would’ve been, you feel me?

Dash: Hurting you isn’t my action, I’m about a gentler touch than that

Lux: and I’m not a bully, that’s not my vibe so that’s the warning out of the way

Dash: avenging 👼 I get it

Lux: My costume has you fooled, I think

Dash: Wait, so you’re pranking me?

Lux: No, I swear! 😅

Lux: I don’t feel like I’ve been anywhere near as nice to you as you have to me though

Dash: but you did dance with me & that was choice

Lux: I wanted to

Dash: me too, I wasn’t asking just to be nice

Lux: even though you’re very nice

Lux: I believe that

Dash: I think we’re getting somewhere

Lux: You understand why I’d find a boy like you being interested in me dubious at first, right

Dash: Nah, but I’m listening

Lux: Well it’s embarrassing to say

Dash: alright, listen, I think you’re the most

Dash: I’m embarrassed I’ve not met you before tonight

Lux: There are so many people to meet

Lux: and you’re like the 🤴 of this place, huh

Lux: you have to dance with all the ugly stepsisters too

Dash: if Amber said write that to bait me I’m shutting up

Lux: I think Amber left 🤔

Lux: And who’s calling her ugly, even if you guys have beef, like no way

Dash: & Nora’s gotta be back in your room cos that’s her bag, yeah?

Dash: so where are you?

Lux: I’m in the middle of [one hippie activity] and [another]

Dash: [go find her and dance with her again obvs, we can be bolder about if some of the haters are gone and it’s later so he’s clearly a bit more drunk/high by now too]

Lux: [the way you’re probably sober like how lmao, not saying you always are or will be ‘cos no but gotta have our wits about us ‘cos witchery is afoot; but yeah we all know it can shamelessly way more of a Thing™]

Dash: [at least Amber was too until her row with the bae even if she wasn’t the most present in other ways, so it wasn’t just you gal, but yeah, dispel any remaining fears she may have that you’re not into this please boy with this moment]

Lux: [we know you got your own going on, it’s good, this drama has to happen whether you like it or not babe sorryyyy, when you’re then even more into it because it’s like HELLO IS THIS ALLOWED, so new and fresh to get to remotely be this brazen]

Dash: [shouldn’t LOVE that for you but I do, we should probably let y’all go on your tour then because we’re both in a mood and there’s nobody to separate you]

Lux: [probably, but I will insist on making you wait ‘til midnight regardless]

Dash: [it is a fat mood and I did pick that time deliberately so yeah, dance the night away first hens]

Lux: [sure it’s probably near that time anyways]

Dash: [yeah absolutely]

Lux: [we can skip to the after in this if you like?]

Dash: [are we thinking am like did y’all fall asleep together or?]

Lux: [Hmm, do we go with the Cinderella and have her bounce or do we go against it and not, because then she would think he wasn’t a dick later]

Dash: [even though he’s a dick I still want all the cute I can grab with my smol hands]

Lux: [it’s not like you can’t be like I just fell asleep it’s nbd with it so yeah okay

Dash: [I also like the camber parallel of it all so]

Lux: [true true, we can do it, then you can just have breakfast as a group because duh, was it sunday or monday today?]

Dash: [I think it’s sunday aka Cosmo is having his 2nd date with Ruby tonight and then Camber breakfast dates start monday]

Lux: [okay then you will have to think of a creative way to ditch her then boy hohaha]

Dash: [at least he can just go home because Amber only stayed to angrily eat some fruit and Cosmo had a busy day ahead because I doubt the shower situation at this commune is thriving, water probably runs out always]

Lux: [what a poser lmaooo]

Dash: [and very rude not to invite her when she probably wants to shower or bathe too]

Lux: [we literally got gems stuck to our face but pop off]

Dash: [we know you’re not because your mother is there and sick of your behaviour but yes, it wouldn’t kill you to let her boy]

Lux: [no offence but run him over, anyway, some time later]

Lux: are you ⬇️🍄?

Dash: 🛹⚡️

Lux: aha, cool

Lux: good thing you didn’t invite me I’d end up 🤕 for sure

Dash: I didn’t stop you falling out of a tree last night to have you fall off a board later in the AM

Lux: Hey, you make it sound like I was 🤏 close! 😆

Dash: nah, your balance is sound

Lux: I don’t recall you stepping on my toes, either

Dash: don’t wanna have to start the day off doubting your 🍒 recall, that’d be a bad scene

Lux: I was totally sober thank you 😅

Dash: easy to claim the magic’s all you when I ain’t met you before but I’m a believer

Lux: Wait, was that a compliment or a diss?

Lux: Maybe I’m contact-wasted

Dash: contact with Nora would get you more sober, there’s a diss

Lux: Awh, don’t be mean!

Lux: She’s been really nice

Dash: chill out, I’m only playing

Lux: Hmm 😏

Lux: anyway, what are you doing later?

Dash: I said I’d hang with Yara

Lux: Oh cool, who’s that?

Dash: I’ll introduce you after

Lux: after what?

Dash: we’re done messing around

Lux: wow, alrighty then

Dash: you’ll like her, she’s a trip

Lux: I’m not totally sure she’d want you to 💬 that

Lux: or I’ll know what to 💬 now

Dash: it’s no biggie

Lux: idk, this is not the way I was raised

Lux: you say it’s not but idk, you know

Dash: you don’t have to meet her

Lux: Yeah

Dash: I think she’s rad but you gotta make up your own mind

Lux: It’s not about her

Dash: nah, you, I understand where you’re coming from, it’s a new world

Lux: Right, it seems really icky to me that you’d tell me any of this

Lux: it’s not about how rad she could be

Dash: Come on, Lux, I’m keeping this honest

Lux: I guess

Lux: Why do you need to tell me though, I don’t get it, for real?

Dash: I like you, I don’t want it to get twisted

Dash: 📖

Lux: Okay, I appreciate the sentiment then

Dash: I’ll come find you later, on my own

Lux: That’s okay

Lux: I’ve got lots of chores to catch up on

Dash: they’ll be done faster if I help you

Lux: I can’t stop you

Lux: the place is a mess after last night and the more people who pitch in the better

Dash: I don’t get why you’d wanna stop me

Lux: I don’t really wanna hang out now, not today anyway

Dash: I can’t believe you’re being like this

Lux: Being like what?

Dash: Amber

Lux: I’m not

Lux: you can’t hang out now, I can’t hang out later, how is it any different?

Dash: the way I’m travelling through today is a straight line, yours is all over the place

Lux: Good for you?

Lux: It doesn’t matter either way though

Dash: doing a u turn on me does matter

Lux: It does?

Lux: because last night you thought I was rad, so obviously this morning I wanted to hang out with you again, so I think it’s my turn to do the 180, if you think about it

Dash: I still think you are, last night was unreal & we can be again, I’m just asking you to take 5 cos I can’t split on Yara after making plans time ago

Lux: That’s fine, it’s not fine to be mad at me ‘cos I ask you to take 5 too

Lux: that makes it make no sense

Dash: I’m not mad at you, I’m trying to make sense of why you’re mad at me

Lux: I’m not mad at you, I’m upset

Lux: You only need to ask

Dash: idk I didn’t think this would go down how it is

Lux: Me either, I guess

Dash: you for real want space?

Lux: I don’t know

Lux: Can I get back to you on that?

Dash: yeah

Lux: I wanted to see you again

Lux: I thought you’d want to see me too

Dash: I do, you read me right last night, why are you gonna start disbelieving yourself today?

Lux: You want to see Yara more

Dash: I wanna see her too

Lux: Okay, have fun then

Dash: we cool?

Lux: I don’t know

Dash: idk what's turned you different, you were laying it on me like you got it, how I'm

like royalty & everyone wants a piece of my time

Lux: Oh my Gosh

Lux: I wasn’t being serious and I didn’t think you were

Lux: do you honestly think that, like what?

Dash: It's a touch plastic saying I'm like 👑 but still close to how it is

Lux: Um, you don’t even live here

Lux: you have a whole house and family

Dash: I'm here with my chosen family as much as I can be

Lux: Yeah, but what do you

actually do for this place, or anyone here?

Lux: The audacity to act like it’s your kingdom, that’s laughable and gross all at once

Dash: back off babe, I do whatever they need me to do

Lux: Babe-ing me right now isn’t a good look

Lux: manual labour at best makes you help, not visiting royalty

Lux: are you crazy, like, who do you think you are, seriously I’m so curious

Dash: Who are you? Thinking you can lay this trip on me about what I can & can't do

Lux: I’m not telling you you can or can’t do anything

Lux: I asked you not to call me babe, which is basic politeness

Dash: nah, you're telling me I don't belong to this place

Dash: questioning how I do like

it's up to you

Lux: I said you don’t live here, and you don’t

Lux: and I’ve never seen you contribute, maybe you were super busy before I got here, then I’ll apologize for that

Dash: you're doing a census, yeah? Hold up [everyone currently who doesn't live her like the petty prince he is]

Dash: I've got family here, they all keep me busy

Lux: Cool? Thanks for telling me who else is a tourist ???

Lux: You’re just being defensive, there’s no need if you’re secure in that and your place here

Dash: quit trying to rattle me

Lux: I’m truly not

Lux: but no, we’re not cool now

Dash: I made it known from the top where I live

Lux: Where you live isn’t the issue

Dash: what's your issue? I'm loved & welcomed here, that's all I said

Lux: That’s nice

Lux: I don’t really want to discuss my issue with you, with you, right now, if that’s okay

Dash: later then

Lux: See you around, Dash

Dash: I can't believe you think I'm a flake, this has me totally unglued, you know

Lux: I don’t feel great about it either

Dash: how can I make you feel less bummed out?

Dash: your tour was the most far out I've ever given

Lux: I don’t think you can, it’s done now

Lux: I just need some time to change what I thought this was, or was gonna be, in my head

Lux: but thanks, for offering

Dash: take your time to 👀 what we can be & how you wanna evolve

Lux: Maybe we can be friends later on

Dash: I’d dig it

Lux: I liked talking to you last night

Dash: I felt more connected to you than I usually do

Lux: I don’t think you’re an awful person, FYI

Lux: I just think you could’ve been clearer, and accept that you hurt me without getting way defensive, you know?

Lux: I can accept you didn’t mean to

Dash: I thought I was being clear

Lux: Yeah, I know

Lux: I’m from a very different background and place, it just didn’t translate well, clearly

Dash: yeah

Lux: but I thought I’d put that across well enough that you got that too

Dash: I do get you, but I can’t 180 myself to fit

Lux: No, I’m not asking you to fit my understanding, it’s fine you don’t

Dash: What are you asking?

Lux: Nothing, honestly, I’m trying to explain why I’m upset

Lux: Just like you can’t 180, I can’t change how I see and feel about it immediately, even if some of the ways I were raised are outdated or potentially bad, you know

Lux: You don’t need to do anything

Lux: From my perspective, it felt like a 180 and hurtful to tell me about hooking up with someone else the morning after

Lux: I know how you think and operate is totally different, but that’s it

Dash: but I wanna do something, to help you

Lux: You are nice…

Lux: I don’t know though, what would help?

Dash: I meant what I said last night about showing you this place, making it feel more like a home, how it is for me

Lux: Maybe you could come back and help with the chores

Lux: I shouldn’t have said you NEVER help out, I’ve not been here long enough to make that observation

Dash: maybe it looks like I don’t, cos with family you take liberties sometimes, that kid who’s naughty at home & don’t say shit at school, comfortable to play up

Lux: I have 8 brothers, I understand 😅

Dash: you can have that too, should

Lux: I did, as much as any of us did

Lux: I was a boy, remember

Dash: with 0 limits though, people trying to control & change what you do is for outside of here, I don’t have to think in my dad’s 🟥🟧🟨🟩🟦🟪⬛️⬜️🟫 way or do what my ma reckons is righteous

Lux: Sounds idyllic, Dash

Dash: it is

Lux: You have to understand my experience of people doing exactly what they want means someone is being exploited or abused for that person’s privilege

Lux: my parents had their utopia at the price of the things we wanted, needed

Dash: that’s why you need this new experience

Lux: Okay

Lux: I do want new experiences

Dash: the farm has the magic to grant you whatever you’re here for, no wish is the wrong size

Lux: You really seem to believe it so I will try too 😊

Dash: I’m about to 🛹⚡️ back if you wanna clean the opposite end or hide from me in the 🍏🌳🍎

Lux: That’s cool

Lux: but thanks for the warning 💗

Dash: don’t let how out of this world you look distract me then

Lux: I so don’t so that won’t be an issue 😌

Dash: It's an accident, huh? I feel you, it must be my fault I can’t look away

Lux: You’re way too smooth for your own good

Lux: but I wouldn’t say that’s a fault, necessarily 🤭

Dash: Hey, I didn’t manifest you into being, even if last night did feel like it had to be cosmically devined somehow

Lux: I felt it too

Lux: no one has ever

Lux: not like that anyway

Dash: you’re like a song I can’t get out of my head, I don’t want it to turn sad

Dash: I’m sorry I got you unglued too

Lux: It’s a lot more complicated than just you

Lux: it’s a whole thing

Dash: You’re gonna find people to share how heavy it is

Lux: 🤞

Dash: they’ll carry you through & even if it’s Amber I won’t let it bug me

Lux: I’m sure that’s a misunderstanding

Lux: I could talk to her? Subtly, of course

Dash: yeah, her misunderstanding me, you’ve got your reasons, she’s not new to any of this

Dash: her problem is she thinks she’s the most & everyone else should think she’s choice no matter what

Lux: Do you think she likes your brother?

Dash: no way, unless she’s got a football obsession now too

Lux: 🧲 maybe

Dash: idk

Lux: Me either

Lux: it just seems a bit crazy otherwise

Dash: he’s as uptight as my da, she’s never gonna get nowhere trying to mess around with him, whatever she’s doing it for

Lux: She won’t have any problem finding someone new

Lux: you said he’s older, right?

Dash: not loads, but he’s gonna be done with school in a sec

Lux: I see

Lux: so you’re the 👶

Dash: til my dad’s new lady puts her demands in

Dash: how many sisters you got to go with your 8 bros?

Lux: you don’t like her at all, huh

Lux: and 5, so they had a tough job being outnumbered

Dash: you heard of a WAG? That’s her whole deal

Dash: whoa, so you had a full time secret sewing job

Lux: yes, we lived in England for a while, that’s how I ended up here

Lux: like a Kardashian, I can see you not having a lot to bond over

Lux: exactly 😂

Dash: you gotta teach me, my nan would be jazzed

Lux: I’d love to!

Lux: there’s a surplus of old clothes to practice on

Dash: still a chore, we get to skip cleaning, yeah?

Lux: Mending isn’t as fun as creating but you’ve got to start somewhere so, I think so 😊

Dash: 😁

Dash: we’ll have a blast cos I gotta start somewhere on earning your forgiveness too

Lux: You’re sweet, Dash

Dash: I’m being for real

Lux: I know you are

Lux: I don’t know what to say though because I’m awkward 😳

Dash: it’s a hands on kinda task & you already know what you’re doing with it, it’ll be me feeling 😳

Lux: No flirting, only crafting

Dash: 🧷📏🧵✂️🧶📍✨

Lux: That’s a very impressive emoji selection

Dash: missing 😍💞🥰💓😘💘 but it’s chill

Lux: Idiot 😏

Dash: 💟 is the compromise

Lux: Okay, that’s adorable

Lux: allowed 🤭

Dash: [show up and take her hand to lead her off to sew, we know you weren’t far away bitch]

Lux: [the way you just melt when he shows, oh gal]

Dash: [I’m upset about it]

Lux: [we know you really like him, for better and worse rn]

Dash: [thank god he does actually like you and it’s not a straight up Drew and Ro situation happening]

Lux: [we can only do that ‘cos they both lowkey suck so we aren’t sad lmao]

Dash: [I like this gal too much to be that evil]

Lux: [it’s drama enough without it being entirely one-sided like no lol]

Dash: [I hope some sewing does take place amidst the blatant flirting because learn a useful skill for once in your life dickhead]

Lux: [we aren’t gonna just roll over immediately ‘cos actually did upset us so you will have to]

Dash: [yay]

Lux: [so that’s probably the vibe for today ‘cos yeah we absolutely won’t even though it’s clear we still like you like that too, so you’ll just have to hang out platonically]

Dash: [it’s gotta be the vibe for a while, sucks to suck boy, but obviously hang out until that girl comes to find you because you clearly do also wanna hang out with her platonically it’s not just like that vine where he breaks the skateboard]

Lux: [a quality vine]

Dash: [do we wanna leave this here?]

Lux: [I think we can]

[rpgmgames]

July’s Featured Game: Melon Journey 2

DEVELOPER(S): Froach Club ENGINE: RPG Maker 2003 GENRE: Story-exploration SUMMARY: Melon Journey 2 is a story-exploration game about revisiting a town full of adorable animals with eccentric personalities. Yet under its cute and nostalgic surface lies a dark tale of crime and corruption... Play as Honeydew, an employee of a huge melon factory, and travel to Hog Town where melons are illegal. While searching for a missing friend, you'll have to explore the town and its surrounding areas, and speak with suspicious characters in dangerous situations to uncover the truth.

Download the demo from the discord server here!

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! We're Froach Club! (Mario - @markeryjane, Karolina - @minipete, & Simon - @carpetbones) Our CEO is rude little roach who goes by the name of Froach. We've all been making games together and separately for a quite a while now and we're currently working on our magnum opus... To see our other games check out froachclub.itch.io & carpetbones.itch.io

What is your project about? What inspired you to create this game initially? *Froach Club: Melon Journey 2 is a story of crime and political corruption in a town where melons are outlawed. It's a sequel to our (Mario & Karolina) very first game we ever made back in 2012. Back then we had no idea what we were doing and were pretty awful at using RPG Maker 2003, so we had the idea to do kind of a remaster of the game. We accidentally expanded it so much though that it became a huge, fully-formed sequel.

How long have you been working on your project? *FC: Almost 2 years now.

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *FC: Columbo, The Big Sleep, Chulip, Hamtaro Ham Ham Heartbreak, Kino's Journey, Twin Peaks, and Shenmue!

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *FC: This is our first real large-scale project, spanning multiple years of development, so staying organized was a huge challenge. At first we would just work on whatever we felt like, jumping from one part of the game to another. But once Simon became more involved in the project, he taught us his amazing organization skills and we learned how to use to-do lists efficiently and and keep our files straight. And now that we have, things go much more smoothly.

Have any aspects of your project changed over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *FC: We started with a really bare-bones story, and as we built up the world by adding more characters, side-quests, and subplots to the main storyline, the game’s scope began to grow. The world of Melon Journey 2 is now much more detailed and immersive than we originally imagined.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *FC: Back in 2012, when Melon Journey 1 came out, we were just a two person team (Mario and Karolina). We continued making games together for a few years until we started calling ourselves Froach Club and added our 3rd member, Simon. We worked together on u1f439 (https://carpetbones.itch.io/u1f439) and Fish Fly Fever (https://froachclub.itch.io/fish-fly-fever) and now Melon Journey 2!

What is the best part of developing a game? *Mario: Making the music, when a scene comes together and the music fits the tone perfectly it's really satisfying. Karolina: Coming up with crazy ideas in the beginning and thinking of all the possibilities! Simon: Creating any form of a dense or rich world for people to interact with or experience.

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *FC: Back when we started out, we played a lot of RPG Maker games on rpgmaker.net and it was a big source of inspiration because it helped us feel like our ideas were doable without any previous knowledge of programming or game making. Yume Nikki in particular gave us a lot of ideas on how to make the most out of RPG Maker 2003, like hacking together menus out of pictures, and creating complex animations using multiple charsets.

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *Mario: Bailey is my self-insert character kinda. Karolina: Lily. She has really strict Russian parents (who are actually based on mine) and she has a hard time finding a place where she feels like she truly belongs. She goes through a lot but never truly stops caring about what she believes in. Simon: I actually am Ham Ghost Jr.

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *FC: At some point the project kind of outgrew RPGMaker 2003 and we really regretted using it, but we've come to appreciate the limitations and they've helped to shape the game in some ways so we regret it less now, especially since discovering easyRPG which we're using to port the game!

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *FC: We like to joke about making Melon Journey 3D, but who knows, it might actually happen one day! We are leaving the ending of MJ2 a little bit open ended~

What do you most look forward to upon/after the release of a project? *Mario: Being able to start a new project. Usually by the end of one project the only thing motivating me is getting it out of the way so we can start on the next thing. Karolina: Seeing if people enjoy our game! I dream about people making fanart and silly deep lore videos. That would seriously make everything 100% worth it. Simon: I cannot wait to get started on a new (maybe even bigger) project!

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *FC: All three of us have an intense fear of something going horribly wrong on the day of the release. That's honestly the scariest part of making a game - saying that you're officially finished with it.

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *FC: Try your best to get your game done and limit the scope! Even if it's not perfect or exactly like how you imagined it, the experience and growth you get from releasing a game is the most important thing.

Question from last month's featured dev @midnighttrain-project: What do you value most in a game? (story, gameplay, art,...) Is that an important aspect of your game? *Mario: I think the interplay of the elements of a game is more important than what the individual parts are like on their own. Like, a simple animation can be transformed by adding a really good sound effect to it, so it's hard to separate elements or say that I value one more than the other. Karolina: I value the story most in games. Even when the art or gameplay is great, if there are glaring plot holes I always spend too much time focusing on them and get pulled out of the experience. That's why we spent so much time making a super well thought-out world and characters for MJ2! Simon: I really enjoy gameplay over most parts of any game, especially if the gameplay is well designed and interesting.

We mods would like to thank Froach Club for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Melon Journey 2 if you haven’t already! See you next month! 

- Mods Gold & Platinum

[beneaththetangles]

A Ryvius Advent

Advent, the time of year in which Christians commemorate Christmas by looking forward to it in anticipation, as well as to Christ’s return, is upon us. We hope that we can help you participate and get into the “Christmas spirit” through our blog as we do our traditional Christmas posts. Consider signing up for our newsletter as we gear up for the season, and following along here on the blog as well with posts like today’s, which kicks off the season is a most appropriate way.

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Infinite Ryvius (Mugen no Ryvius), Goro Taniguchi´s Lord of the Flies meets Lost in Space, is without doubt one of my favorite shows. Yet, I must warn you: It is not an easy one to watch. Its slow burn starts with the focus on the people-pleaser protagonist, Kouji Aiba—a guy who finds it uncool to hang out with anyone who has known him for a long time, his estranged brother Yuki, and their bossy childhood friend Aoi. But soon it expands its scope to perhaps twenty or so very interesting youngsters aboard the Liebe Delta, a starship academy for future space cadets, left without adults after a strange accident (or is it?), and through them, encompasses an entire teen society which grows, fights, suffers, and evolves with every episode, always waiting for rescue.

That is the starting point of a journey that will take its protagonists through hard decisions about survival and violence, war, lies, fears and betrayal, the collapse of social norms, emotional and mental breakdown, and repeated moral failure in what I found to be a very atypical, honest story full of quasi Eva-like angst and misfortune.

What’s worse is that you do not even have a Gendo to blame here, either for how frustratingly Kouji acts nor for anything else. There are adults and dangers outside, but they are not the focus. Instead, it’s on the kids. From the kindhearted teen hero to the bright model student, from the Vulcanian-like brainy to the loud representative, from the weak-willed fat boy to the “bad girl,” from the silent gang leader to the space princess (sort of), they are as flawed as they are relatable, and truly dangerous to each other in their own ways. And the consequences of their sins and errors are not small, not here. What follows has been aptly described as an ascent/descent into hell.

Why watch it, then? Why suffer? For one, its characters are (in my view) fascinating, and their occasional ugliness, and that of the situation, is how we gradually come to see something genuine and hopeful about them. They may start as archetypes, but they suffer, evolve, interact, struggle, and surprise me, for better and for worse. No matter how minor their roles, they all have something to say, and quite frequently they are things I hadn’t heard before from characters like these. The story does not whitewash their flaws, but neither does it give up on them when they fail (and boy, do they fail). The comparison with The Lord of the Flies may be the first thing that comes to mind, but if you go along, you will receive, one after another, signs that things may go differently here. It is not only the primal they confront, but also the supernatural; not only the evil in them, but the good. And I have come to understand enough about myself to know that I´m pretty much like Hikki Hachiman: I thirst to know the human heart, of others and mine, and I often find hope in it.

More than that, Mugen no Ryvius is a show firmly interested in what is good and evil, right and wrong, just and unjust, much like Bokurano or Serial Experiments Lain. It takes its premise seriously, and it makes every effort to show us that everyone is connected. This principle is personified in the character of the Girl in Pink, the soul of the starship, an observer who wanders around learning about its inhabitants, sometimes talking with them, sometimes helping them, sometimes unveiling what is beneath the surface, she herself connected to the deeper mysteries of the ship. And, as I have loved reading about the evolution of fictional societies and regimes since I first read Plato´s terrific (in both senses of the word) Republic in Philosophy class, the self-contained nature of the community which is described, the elegant way in which everything is presented and the 26 episodes that give us plenty of time to know everything about everyone make this a very enjoyable story, even if sometimes you have to just endure it.

There is even more. Ryvius is not only a psychological thriller or a social experiment. It is a tale of discernment and heroism, but not only that either. Much as in Taniguchi´s Planetes, its themes and symbology go all the way to the philosophical and the spiritual, in this case with the salvation of all humanity literally at stake. The characters are largely unaware of this larger plot—they are busy enough as it is—except for some weird encounters they experience here and there, but we get to see it through the Girl in Pink. The story has something to say about who we are to each other, and about sacrifice, sin and delusion, and also about the meaning of hope and love in this fallen world. Thus, it connects with the themes of Advent, the time when we remember the long wait for Christ during the long ages of Israel, the longing of the human heart for Him in the reign of sin, the promises of the prophets and the difficult and specific, strange, miraculous yet discreet circumstances in which the fulfillment of that hope was prepared when the time came.

But, God being the Lord of the Living, this period is not only one of remembrance. It is also the time when we try to better dispose our hearts so that His coming here and now can touch us more deeply. It’s becoming a challenging, tiring Advent for me, both professionally and personally, so these days I am fasting a bit, trying to bring to mind the hope of Christmas and of the future and meditating on the readings of Isaiah and John the Baptist, Joseph, and Mary. Because Advent is also the time when we look to the future from the hardships of this world and renew our hope that He will come back, that rescue is coming. That there is a second, hidden story in my life too, and it encompasses and explains the one I see. It is something of a funny coincidence that the hardest part of the Ryvius story comes also at December, a December in space.

I think that is as far as I can go speaking only in general, so spoilers ahead. Ryvius is full of twists and turns, so you have been warned.

Episode 23 is probably the show at is bleakest. Just an episode or two before, the violence, the egoism, the anarchy, the malevolence, the ill will, the disorder and the laziness have reached its peak, and a friend has been scarred. The sins of the little society—unbeknownst to them, a literally chosen people, because the Ryvius is the only hope for humanity to escape the Second Solar Flare, and no crew has ever been able to make it react—are just too many, and they are punished. It is the logical consequence, and even I was hoping for it. Our heroes experience a mutual emotional breakdown, unable to comfort each other. And hurt and bitter, the courageous and kind Ikumi turns into a tyrant by threats and sheer force, threatening to destroy entire sections of the starship if he is not immediately given unconditional obedience. Like the Leviathan of Hobbes, he demands absolute power to prevent the kids to becoming wolves for each other. With Yuki and the rest of the mecha aces on his side, those aboard are forced to comply.

His first decision is to reinstate the gang of Airs Blue, that other interesting tyrant, back from prison as the police force, a role than they clearly enjoy. Shortly after, order is restored, but in such a way the ship starts to feel like an occupied country. Violence is not as overt as it was, but it is there. And maybe all that would be at least an improvement on the previous anarchy, were not that his main advisor is the ultimate schemer of the Zwei group, Heiger, who has been given free hands to engage in his social engineering projects and protect this Pax Romana until the number of violent incidents is zero.

Shortly after, people are sorted by ability and separated (well, either that, or if Heiger thinks you a subversive element, sent straight to Class F, which includes pretty much every important character who is not part of the regime). Juli Bahana, the voice of empathy and reason, is expelled from the bridge for objecting (more specifically, for objecting without providing a feasible alternative), and sent to Class F. So is her ever-jealous friend Ran, who has undermined her in every way she could. His crime is violently protesting that the little kid aboard, Pat, has been sent to Class F too (well, says Heiger, naturally, he is not useful by any objective standard). Fina S. Shinozaki, the beautiful pagan priestess/cult leader who preaches the false Gospel of making yourself a new you of your own design, is leading the course of the ship, which now points toward her planet.

When all the new residents of Class F are in their area, a new surprise comes. Unbeknownst to Ikumi, Heiger, who is losing it a bit, blocks the area and switches the lights off. They are left without food or a way out. In his reasoning, these people are not useful, the lowest of the low, and everything that is given to them is a waste. Many of them, conscious of their crimes or their lack of ability, even recognize it is only natural that they would end up at Class F. So there they are, our most pathetic characters, in the darkness. Jealous Ran, indecisive Juli, feeble and treacherous Charlie (sorry, I mean Good Turtleland the Third), femme fatale Criff, bratty Nicks, people-pleaser Kouji, messy and bossy Aoi, loud Lucson, spoiled Pat, the lazy couple who stole points, even the creepy psycho who “protects” Charlotte—all there.

When someone lights a lantern, and it turns out that Lucson was stealing food, so he decides to share it, not without boasting about his “keen foresight.” The last, the not useful, the dispossessed, the guilty thus share the little they have, and sit around the light. Somehow, a curious joy starts to permeate them, and someone asks out of the blue, “It is almost Christmas, isn’t it?”

What it is is December 13rd, the birthday of the youngest member of the crew, Pat Campbell. His father and mother figure are beside him. Lucson may be an incompetent, a liar, and a vain leader, but he has taken good care of Pat, to the point of showing that he is willing to take a beating in his place, and has tried to set example for him in his own clumsy way. Juli may be indecisive and her renouncing as captain of the ship may have played a part in the present state of things, but she has cared for the kid from the first moment. The Girl of Pink is attracted towards that light they share, not towards the bridge, and it´s no wonder. The bleakness of Ryvius disappears for a couple of minutes, and there is a warm light instead. This is the moment in which she speaks to Kouji and stops being an observer, providing hope, a way out. Literally, there is a path.

The darkness will strike twice again in this very episode and the hardest part of this journey of purification is still ahead, but we have seen a glimpse of where it leads. As viewers, we can have hope. Kouji still has to carry his own Cross, his own Gethsemane, and beyond. Aoi will share it all with him. We will still suffer before we reach the end. But for now, there is light. There is a sign of something beyond the madness the Ryvius has fallen into, something that reaches these broken sinners suffering the consequences of their own errors and makes them one, even so.

While darkness and poverty have united Class F, the powerful, the strong and the wise in the terms of the ship are not so lucky. Ikumi cannot participate in the feast. After all, he is locked in his palace—the officials bedroom—with his own thoughts, increasing his own power, worried, navigating his inner traumas, working to stop even the littlest of crimes aboard while the tyrannical system he has created causes others he does not detect. He wants his Pax Romana no matter the means, and even if he is not mistaken about what is right, he is wrong about placing all hope in his own hands, and about the darkness of his own heart. Like Herod (though younger, more desperate and driven by fear and trauma), he may resort even to murder. Neither can Kozue, who has made the conscious decision to play into Ikumi´s trauma to have someone who will provide her affection, and literally shut the door to everything and everyone else.

Neither can Yuki, our punk Pharisee, who never loses an opportunity to point how weak-willed, despicable, low and inauthentic his elder brother is, usually with a punch or two to show him.  Even if he is Kouji´s younger brother, he is no doubt like the older brother of the parable, only substituting obedience to the father to doing what he pleases without external influence. He also wants acknowledgement for his achievements. Nor Heiger, who is busy with the census of his new empire, sending every member of the Ryvius community to the place where he belongs to, in his opinion, and worshiping efficiency like he always wanted to. Heiger´s terrified reaction to the unknown, in the form of the Lovecraftian/Ghiblian space beasts, shows us how self-enclosed in the works of his own hands he is at this point of the story: His own cleverness has blinded him to this hope.

But if Ikumi is traumatized, Heiger is a materialist, and Yuki is just doing what he feels vaguely good about, someone is searching for a spiritual meaning in the circumstances. And the meaning she finds is evil. That is Fina S, Shinozaki, the young cult leader/priestess of Mother Arne, a pagan deity who considers letting your past behind and rebuilding yourself from zero as the first moral imperative, adapts to every situation quickly and cleverly, considers Ikumi to be a war god, and believes the Universe will help you if you desire things strongly enough. Behind the bizarre elements of this space cult (you know, those pesky Uranians), there is a very familiar philosophy: Be the center of everything, project a perfect illusion, become powerful no matter the situation, delete from your life those people and parts of yourself you don´t like, always be determined, and get what you want.

Villainous as Fina is, I cannot but feel compassion for her, as she is farther away from hope than the rest, and suffers without it. When hurt, she tries to kill the same person whose love she longs for: she wants to prevent him from applying her own philosophy to her and letting her in his past. When heartbroken, she tries to force her smile like a mask. When her acts get her scarred, she wonders if she is not as virtuous as she should be. The philosophy of becoming your own creator not only destroy you, but also tells you that it´s your fault, for not wanting to be free and happy strongly enough. So I truly pity her, and this broken age of ours, too. In a silent alliance with the Girl in Pink, Kouji will risk everything to confront all four, like John the Baptist, and call them to repent.

So at this time of the year, we should also prepare for what is to come—the fights as well as the rescue, the present as well as the future. The joy of the feast and the time of waiting. In the midst of our daily struggles and sufferings, of the problems of the world, we may take a step back to reflect and pray, try to hear the call, think about the meaning of what is happening, share the little we have, remove the obstacles, acknowledge who we are, repent. Take perspective on the things of the world. Give others the comfort and hope they need. Be brave. And help those who are not useful for us, even those who have hurt us, for we are connected, aboard the same ship. And those far from Class F, locked anywhere, need Christmas too, and dearly: Their hearts thirst just like ours.

And miraculously, there is a path.

=====

Mugen no Ryvius can be acquired at Amazon.

[wh-wh-whu]

Whumpmas in July 2021 Day 1 - (Re-)Introduce yourself and/or your creations!

Hi! I don’t think I ever made an actual intro post so I’m using this chance!

I am C, 25, and I have been into whump ever since I can remember (though I only learned this word much more recently, and even then I thought it was only about sickfics and stuff for a long time but that’s a story for another day). English is not my first language but I have been reading stuff in English online for over 10 years, and writing for almost as long (though not well, back then) so it’s a language I’m very comfortable using for my writing hobby (it’s even more comfortable than my mother language when it’s spicy stuff).

This blog is probably not older than a few months. I have written and published mildly whumpy stuff for fandoms I’m in before but I felt the need for content that is focused on the tropes rather than on particular characters, and on the way I found some very talented writers and their amazing OC stories. Unfortunately I can’t follow from here as this is a side blog to my fandom account and having a “messy” dash is a nightmare for me, but I check the whump main tag and the blogs of my fav creators + the people on my notes almost daily.

My masterlist is pinned, if anyone is interested. I usually write for a single fandom at a time, so now that I am dividing my time between my main fandom and whumpy stuff, I am still figuring out how to post often in both (how do you multifandom guys do it???), and it doesn’t help that this is a busy year. So my masterlist is currently short, but I hope to expand it soon.

Under the cut I rant about my works that I post here and talk a bit about my fav whump tropes

I am into slavery whump and dehumanization and this sort of thing. I’m not particularly into the “pet aesthetic” part of pet whump but I don’t mind, it and pet whump has a lot of Good Stuff so it’s probably what I have the most of in my reblogs. The part I am the most into is the whumpee having their whole life in someone else’s hand (be it a whumper or caretaker), and being unable to seek help because the whole thing is legal and socially accepted. I’m a big fan of non human whumpees (aliens, robots, clones, fantasy creatures, etc) as long as they look human, like, I want them to mostly look like a regular person but have the added angst bonus of not being one. I think the only whumpee species that is not fully humanoid that I actively search for is merpeople (all because one day I stumbled upon this art and got obsessed with the concept - I have a whole verse based on it that I hope to write soon).

As for my creations, when I was very young I would come up with whumpy scenarios but they were always random, with unrelated original characters I didn’t care much about. One day I got tired of having to come up with world rules every time, and so I made up a verse with well defined rules that I could use for all my scenarios from then on. As time passed, this verse evolved and I grew attached, I started making characters and plots and changing the rules to fit in with my new tastes. I actually started writing this story back in high school (and showed it to people, rip me) and got stuck when I realized making it more whumpy and making the characters be decent people were conflicting goals. I am currently focusing on making it whumpy and posting snippets of it on tumblr since now I know there are people who are into this stuff like I am, bless you guys (both my stories “Ni and Jay and Jane” and “Joy and Henry” come from it, focusing on different characters)

My other story that I post here is focused on my OC Violet, which I made in high school when I was learning to deal with my teen angst. She started as a self insert, but then I made it whumpy and sci fi and gave her self healing abilities and a creepy evil doctor to torture her so I guess it doesn’t even count as self insert anymore. I have three short chapters written of it that I am currently rewriting and translating, but I have a bunch of ideas, old and new, to try.

I also have in my future plans the mer verse I mentioned earlier, other characters from my big whumpy verse that I would like to write about, and a couple of fics from back when I read catboy AUs in fandoms I’m not in anymore that I want to rewrite and make whumpier. I’m basically dumping here a lot of old stuff that I see in a new light since I learned what whump is and that never reached its full potential back then because I thought no one would want to read a story only about a character suffering lol

[shamelessselfpromotingsite]

Free Read I hope you love my short story below.  If so, please review it on my twitter account or here. @lindeenen.  Enjoy THIRTEEN By Linda Deenen Thirteen claps, fingers fully extended, not to fast, not too slow, followed by thirteen emphatic blinks. This is how I start every new activity. It’s not lost on me how ridiculous I appear to anyone forced to watch this senseless ritual.  Hell, I don’t want to watch this senseless ritual, let alone perform it, but I’m powerless to stop.  Two years ago, after the death of my husband, the clapping started.  Thirteen, no more no less.   Yes, of course, I saw my doctor. (My boss politely insisted.) Doc assured me it was a traumatic stress disorder manifested from my grief and said I should give it time.   Time didn’t help. Instead of getting rid of the clapping, my routine expanded to include thirteen comically precise blinks, performed immediately post clap. This new affliction didn’t garner as much sympathy,as you might think. People around me, now suspecting it was an attention getting tactic, were becoming annoyed. My physician soon recommended I speak to a psychiatrist to help resolve the internal conflict I was having.  Personally, I think she was incapable of sitting through one more appointment with me and passed me on for another to bear. Thirteen claps and thirteen blinks.  The psychiatrist found it fascinating. The specific number and precise aspect of my affliction were things he hadn’t encountered before, but was certain we could figure out together.   “Do you feel uneasy if you don’t clap thirteen times exactly?” he asks me, inquisitive eyes boring into mine.  “Have you tried twelve times to see if that would work as well?”   A lock of dark hair breaks away from the carefully coiffed style and slides attractively over his arched eyebrow. His lips are pursed, expression concerned, his head nodding encouragingly as I explain I’m unaware of when the clapping will start or stop. He appears less sympathetic when I reveal that the act leaves me no more or less satisfied than I’d been before. Neither did it relieve stress nor create euphoria. His jaw drops with outright disbelief, when I mention that the episodes occur even while I’m sleeping and actually wake me up. “Most, uh, no, that’s not right.” He struggles “Really, I have to say all of the syndromes I’ve treated over the years were initiated by the patient.  They might be in denial and blame something else, but ultimately, with my help, they realize they’ve created these behaviors to counteract a buildup of anxiety within them. “   He shifts his bulk uncomfortably in the massive black leather chair and feigns interest in a small squeak from the cushion. I assume he’s searching for the correct words to tell me I’m crazy. Not a surprise really, I suspected as much and would actually be happy with a confirmation. “Ahem” Having given up on the inscrutable creak, he clears his throat and pontificates.  “The subconscious mind is quite capable of bringing things to the surface when we aren’t paying attention, for example,” he gestures sideways, “sleeping.   Thoughts, memories, that kind of thing, but initiating gross motor movements, like clapping, shouldn’t happen.” He lowers his chin and peers at me from under his bushy eyebrows. I smile and shrug.   “You’re likely waking up anyway when you start the clapping routine.” The corners of his mouth turn up as he intertwines his fingers and rests them on his plentiful paunch certain the mystery is solved. “Do you understand?” I understand. He thinks I’m either faking or exaggerating. Been there, heard that. I smile and shrug. He glances at his watch, probably hoping my session is finished.  It isn’t, there’s still an hour left.  He emits a loud sigh. “I won’t be able to help you if you aren’t open with me and since you either can’t or won’t discuss your feelings, I think we should try hypnotherapy.”  He stands up smoothing out the wrinkles in his tan linen pants. “Why don’t we move to the couch so you can lie down.” I knew I shouldn’t be flip, but given his pompous attitude, I can’t help myself.  As soon as the clapping and blinking stops… I smile and shrug. He rubs roughly at his scalp as if something there is bothering him. Mission accomplished, I stand up and move to the couch. When the clapping and blinking allows, I close my eyes and focus on his voice directing me to relax. I’m just acknowledging that the tone and cadence of his voice might actually put me to sleep, when I hear him insisting that I open my eyes. When I do, he’s standing above me, forcefully snapping his fingers and calling my name. I want to sit up in response to his emphatic request, but I’m unable to comply.  None of my muscles respond, not even to clap or blink.   I’m not unsympathetic to his distress at my not obeying his demands, but this is something I haven’t experienced before… inertia. My life has changed dramatically in the two years since my husband’s death, and not for the better. I lost my job for spending too much time performing a ritual that not only disrupted my performance but that of all those around me. Worse than the job was the loss of my constant companion, my beloved Australian Sheppard, Kitty, who stood by my side at the funeral home and the gravesite, giving me support.   Yeah, that one sucked, but my clapping and blinking was eating up so much of my time, I had none left to take him on walks or even feed him.   Grab his bowl – blinking – get the leash – clapping – put on a shoe, blinking, etc., you get the picture, and It’s not like I just left him on a street corner or something. Hmm… well I guess I kind of did. I gave him to the homeless guy who had installed himself at the off ramp near my home.  It seemed like a win – win to me.  Kitty would get walked back and forth all day and the homeless guy would attract more sympathy because he had another mouth to feed. My point being, it seemed to the doctors and even to me, that at least some of these events should have caused me stress, but, not so.  Except for the clapping and blinking, I’m having the time of my life.  Of course, I am using the life word loosely, because the here and now is where I am.   Sleeping, I don’t dream, awake, I have no memories or regrets and I don’t waste any time looking forward.   Emerging from my self-indulgent reverie, I notice the psychiatrist is red in the face and has given up snapping. Maybe his fingers cramped? But he still, obviously wants me to get my ass off his couch. I give it a try and, surprise, surprise, the clapping starts, only this time, it’s not thirteen precise claps, it’s a frantic slapping of limp palm flesh against limp palm flesh, in a flurry of unstoppable blows.  What the hell, this is fantastic.  I can hardly wait for the blinking to start. The psychiatrist, apparently unwilling to wait for the astonishing show my blinking will make, grabs my hands, which immediately puts a stop to the clapping.   I wait. I wait.   Nope, no blinking starts.  A shiver of disappointment at having been denied this heretofore unseen spectacle, rushes through me.  Seriously, what is wrong with me? I’ve obviously given up control to the seriously stricken psychiatrist, because he has raised me up from his couch, taking time for a quick glance to make sure I haven’t soiled his lounge, and moved me forward to my previous perch by his desk. Suprisingly,  he doesn’t reclaim his position of authority upon his leather throne, but maintains his unwelcome hold on my appendages and kneels before me like a peasant in supplication. I want to look away but for the first time in recent memory, I have a shaky, queasy feeling I assume is the one called, anxiety.  Fearful now, my heart beats fit to burst, and I desperately try to pry my fingers out of his sweaty grip. “Don’t panic,” his warm breath flutters on my cheek and he moves his hands on top of mine, pressing them heavily into my thighs.   I’m positive if he releases them,  thirteen claps will appear, but he doesn’t give them a chance.  As if reading my thoughts, he presses harder into my legs. “I can see you’re feeling uneasy, but I would like you to do something for me” his insipid, half smile looks hopeful. Not likely, my inside voice quips, but focusing is getting tough. Another time, I might have enjoyed the wobbliness of feeling semi drunk but now, I am concerned. Uneasy? I’ll see your uneasy and raise you one hysteria. Heat is streaking up my limbs, threatening to vaporize me. I have a primal urge to flee.  I order my legs to stand, but not one neuron makes an effort to perform this feat and I remain a prisoner in my body. “Can you  picture your husband, before he became ill. While his body was being ravaged by cancer, you had many conversations with him about his impending death and how much he wanted you to survive.”  I could feel the hair on the back of my head moving softly back and forth.  Was he patting me? I really need to leave. Even the years of clapping, blinking, clapping, blinking, did not distress me llike this, in this moment, I’m terrified.  I don’t know why, but I can definitely identify this emotion as terror.  What’s happening? Dully, I understand that while I have been focusing on my terror and need to get out of here, a sticky, heavy haze has oozed in my right ear and is blanketing my thoughts.   Nope, not happening, no friggin way. I’m in control and I ‘m going to leave. I see now, I made a huge mistake coming here today and as I am apologizing to the doctor for taking up his valuable time (huge effort expended vocalizing that lie by the way), he interrupts me. “Julie, you know this body is not yours” he proclaims loudly as he stands, hands on hips, legs spread defiantly. “What the #**k?  I don’t have to sit here and listen to these ravings.” Well, ultimately I do, because nothing works yet, no feet, no legs and definitely no arms or I’d clock him up the side of his head - no hollow apology to follow. “Julianna, now is the time to assert yourself.”  He looks remarkably like a tent gospel healer ,raising his arms over his head while making this proclamation.  I wonder stupidly if my smiling might help him out. He seems pretty upset. “If you don’t at least try, you’ll remain a prisoner of this pseudo-personality for the rest of your life.” I’m having trouble figuring out who the heck he’s talking to, or about, since my focus is still slipping.  I don’t like being called Julianna. My name is Julie. Why’s he not calling me Julie? “Your husband showered you with his love and trusted you to recover.  You’ve let him down.”  The doc is sitting on the side of his desk now accenting his points by pounding on the dark wood. I’m furious. “Stop it.  Stop talking to me!  We’re happy the way we….” What? What did I say?  We?  We who? “No, I misspoke, I meant I. I’m happy the way I am.” But still he continues. “Under hypnosis, I met the real Julianna. I know you want to be free.  You told me that when Tom died, it felt safer to let Julie take over, and I understand that impulse.”  His voice feels cool, like a summers rain, soothing, but dangerous, as if concealing a shaft of lightening, waiting to strike. I just know this train isn’t stopping any time soon.  The doctor adjusts his tie, tugs on the gold tip of his belt, confident, and gaining momentum. “Julianna, you didn’t just hide, you disappeared and when you wanted to come back, it was too late.  Julie was too strong.  She has no interest in your life and does whatever amuses her day to day. “ “One day you managed to push through enough to make your hands clap.  Thirteen times. One for each year you and Tom were married.  But no one paid attention and focused on the other signs Julie was exhibiting.  They couldn’t know clapping was just the tip of the iceberg.  You got a little stronger when Julie’s boss forced her to see a doctor and you were able to move your eyelids as well.”   He slides down to a squat in front of me and I see him touch my knee, but I don’t feel it. Funny. “You’d have won this battle eventually Julianna, but it might have taken years.  Now, with hypnotherapy, I’ve seen you and I won’t let that happen.  The time is now, Julianna, now, please.” I’m using all accessible effort to keep my sluggish attention on the shrink because I deem him to be the immediate threat. Wrong! All this time, covertly, I’m being pressed gently, but steadily out of the light and into a dim corridor of interminable length. My heart rate quickens but then I realize, it doesn’t feel that bad, being in the cool dark, and for a second or 2,  I’m seduced into relaxing the emotional control I’ve maintained for two years. With my eyes closed, I see a crack has appeared in my wall. I know I need to shore it up but a friendly soft breeze floats across my cerebellum and feels amazing. I succumb and allow myself to be beguiled and soothed. When the sensation ends, a deep sigh escapes my lips and I try to raise myself to my former level of attention.  It’s not there! I try again, squinting my face with effort, but I can make nothing work. Within that brief respite, I allowed myself to be conveyed.  Now you’d think I would have an answer to “Conveyed where?” but I don’t.  I’ve no sense of what or where I am, except for the certainty that I’m in a confinement.  Am I doing this? I whisper to myself. I attempt to sense the edges of my inky cubby; it feels the size of a postage stamp. A tiny stamp hidden away in the corner of some museum, never to be found.  Sounds are all dampened and dull, as if the energy has been sucked out of them. Adrenaline floods my system in fear of my invisible shackles; it pumps and beats looking for a way to escape my body. I can scarcely make out the form of the psychiatrist now.  He appears to still be talking. No surprise there, I reassure myself as I impotently battle to maintain control. With no limbs available to me, my battleground is the grey matter nestled in my skull.   With sticky toes, I climb one wiggly hill after the other, moving forward to the front, where I used to live.  Each footfall squishes deeper, preventing me from gaining ground. I rest, trying to sense the doctor. I find him, an indistinct presence, very close. But now, I discern he’s got a smile on his face, and he’s holding someone’s hand, saying “Welcome back Julianna.” My vision goes black, I want to reach up to see if my eyes have been gouged out, but my hands are stuck in the viscous guck separating the lobes. The effort is too much. It’s all too much and as I allow my cheek to finally rest on the neural tissue and dendrites that surround me, I hardly notice as I disappear.