#10 year old nyquil would be proud

[auroras-blend]

Road Trip

Bonus Chapter from Leo's POV where he takes Vittoria on a 10-hour car ride to Rome for a vacation. Basically, he's stuck in a car with an eight-year-old for 10+ hours.

Leonardo Borghese was a patient man and prided himself on his ability to stay calm in tense situations. He wore a mask that most artists could only dream of modeling, but his facade was quickly crumbling in the second hour of the ten-hour car ride. “Are we there yet?” asked Vittoria for the sixth time in the last hour.

“No, not yet principessa. Not for a while,” he groaned, looking at the car’s clock, “Eight more hours.”

He had promised to take her to Rome, his birthplace, months ago and now he, unfortunately, had to make good on that promise. Vittoria had seemed tired when she entered the car at four in the morning (she hadn't even had a panic attack), which is why he had forgone giving her Nyquil, but apparently, she had a burst of energy ten minutes into their ride. Apparently, the panic attack had been delayed and she spent the first hour crying and praying, before finally settling down into a conversation. Every single car ride. Whoever killed Giuseppe and traumatized his daughter would pay dearly, especially considering getting her to church was always a two-hour-long affair if he added in the time for trying to get her into the car.

The past two hours had been hell for him and he had eight more to go. Eight was optimistic given his daughter’s small bladder.

Leonardo Borghese didn’t like being in a small shared space with a prattling person. His cellmate hadn’t been as aggravating as Franco, and dear God he’d say it, Franco wasn't as aggravating as Vittoria was right now. “Why don’t you try and go to sleep?”

“I’m not tired!” she said brightly, before rapidly firing a line of questions at him, “How far is Rome? Do we still get to see gladiators fight? What about the lions? Will they have lions?”

“Far enough,” he breathed, “No, we won’t see gladiators fight and there are no lions.”

“They should have lions,” she quipped, “Did you know they had women, gladiators? I don’t think I’d like to be a gladiator, because I don’t like blood. Minerva was a war goddess and she was smart. I read about her in my book, but she’s not my favorite. Do you know who my favorite is Papa?”

Oh, God. “Who is it Vittoria?” he asked, trying to keep a smile in his voice.

“Venus and Diana. I like Venus cause she's the goddess of love and beauty. I play Venus a lot because I’m pretty. Did you know the planet’s named after her?” she asked, not giving him a chance to reply, “And then there’s Diana because she’s the goddess of the moon. She doesn’t date icky boys and turns them into deers! I’d like to do that!”

How am I going to do this for another nine hours? “Who’s your favorite Roman god, Papa? I bet I can guess! Is it Jupiter? Because he’s the king! Did you know a planet is named after him too? It's the biggest one! You're really big, Papa! Did you know I know all the names of the planets now because I remember the Roman gods and goddesses? Sg.na Sagesse taught me a song. I’ll show you!”

This is hell. Vittoria began singing along to the tune, Michael Finnegan: “There are nine planets around the sun, let me name them one by one…”

Can I mute her? “There’s Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars, they have super pretty stars!”

Leonardo was gritting his teeth and focusing on the road. She’ll fall asleep eventually. “Then there’s Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune but wait one moment we’re not done with this tune!”

Why can’t we be done? “Stop right there, please don’t go, make some room for Pluto! There are nine planets around the sun, now you can name them one by one!”

Leonardo gave a fake gasp. “That’s incredible principessa! You’re such a smart girl,” he praised as he watched a proud blush rise to her cheeks.

“Really?”

“Of course! I could never memorize that song like you can,” he said, unknowingly damning himself.

Vittoria gasped. “Oh Papa, don’t say that! You can! I can teach you!”

Shit. “Oh, it’s okay principessa,” he tried to quickly say before she began singing the song again.

***

He considered himself a saint for not snapping at her. Vittoria had sung the planet song close to thirty times before he finally got the hang of it, or at least until she passed out. He knew the song now. There are nine planets around the sun, let me name them one by one… Those damn lyrics were stuck in his head and he couldn't even drown it out with the radio unless he wanted to risk waking Vittoria. Leonardo looked at the clock...seven hours to go...make some room for Pluto...Leonardo sighed at the long road ahead.

***

They had made six pit stops in the last two hours because Vittoria had the smallest bladder. At the sixth stop, they decided to get lunch where he ordered a light meal but allowed her to order a pizza with a glass of milk, even though she begged for a soda. There was no way he’d make that mistake. Vittoria was incredibly chatty with the waitresses, telling them that they were going to Rome and everything they’d see. She could give Franco a run for his money.

“But all the Roman gods are there! Did you know that, Papa? I want to go to the Pantseon first. That’s my very favorite place!” she squealed.

As exhausted and annoyed as he was, he did smile at her excitement. He had been worried that his eight-year-old would be bored out of her mind and would throw an embarrassing tantrum at the museum, but she wasn’t. She’s an academic, just like her father. “Pantheon,” he corrected.

“Oh right! Anyway…” she continued.

Leonardo let himself enjoy the moment and memories he was making with his daughter. He knew she probably didn’t get to go on any road trips when she lived with her mother, and seeing her excited about her first-ever vacation was endearing. Especially when he was the one giving her her first-ever vacation because he had missed so many firsts. She stole those precious moments from me, he thought hatefully. But he had the rest of their lives to be the only one who gave her those special memories.

He had wanted this, a perfect daughter to spoil and who would worship the ground he walked on, but when he had wished for it he hadn’t imagined that he’d be raising her alone. A proper family vacation would have been with a wife and a car full of children, though now that he was in a car with just one child for the past several hours, he was content to keep the number down for the time being. It was a lot of work just caring for her by himself, not that he was incapable, mind you, but he took great joy in being called a “selfless single father” by those around him. Leonardo knew full well that if he were a woman, the words used to describe him would be derogatory.

He could tell the stigma that Vittoria carried around with her when she was raised in the States haunted her. The names she had been called, people refusing to play with her...he truly was, in his mind, the best thing to ever happen to her. He told himself he was acting in her best interest when he took her to Italy to live with him, after all, it's my right, and that he gave her everything she ever wanted and needed. She seemed far better off now than she did then, well with a sprinkle of a few traumatic events, but details, details.

“Are you happy, then?” he asked.

She nodded as her cheeks puffed out with a large bite of pizza. “Slow down,” he said when he saw her trying to swallow quickly so she could speak again.

He didn’t want her to choke. “But then we have to go to our garden and art museum!”

Vittoria was convinced that Villa Borghese and the Borghese Gallery and Museum were their family’s museum and that it only made sense because they were both artists. He let her entertain that notion. Leonardo, contrary to his nature, let his daughter lead the conversation, mainly because he didn't have the energy to contribute. Another three to four hours seemed impossible, but there was still enough daylight for them to use, and they had to check-in at five o’clock. “I can’t wait to be in Rome! We have to take super lots of pictures!” she grinned.

“We’ll take plenty of pictures,” he smiled back.

“You were born there, right Papa?”

“Yes, I was born in Rome,” he smiled.

“I wish I was born in Rome. I was born in stupid Idaho,” she frowned, “That’s a state.”

Idaho, in his opinion, was an ordinary state with unremarkable people. Not fit for Vittoria. When he had visited Rome a while ago, he had changed her birthplace to Rome to better suit her. She wasn’t an ordinary child. “Did you not like Idaho?” he asked, already knowing her answer.

“No. It was boring and the people were mean. I had to do a report on it and people like us because we grow potatoes, but that’s it,” her frown was set for a moment before she broke out into a smile, “My report was the bestest! I always make my first letters capitals and add periods. I’m the only second-grader who remembers!”

“Of course you are. I bet you were the best writer in your class,” he praised.

He had seen her writing samples, and even when she wrote an argumentative piece about throwing Charles to the tigers, her work was still fairly impressive. Writing seemed to be one of her strengths, which was reassuring given that math and reading were not. “I was! I always got gold stars! Mr. Morgan never gave them to Rodney, because he’s a bad writer!” she said the last part with a smug look on her face that she inherited from her father.

Leonardo had begun to notice the striking similarities they shared in their mannerisms and expressions. The way she slipped on her “happy mask” as she called it and the way she forced her eyes to soften when she wanted sympathy over a pointless tantrum. Vittoria was learning to play the game he had set, practiced, and perfected. She’ll never win, but it’s sweet to see her try.

He indulged her with ice cream before they headed back out into the car and onto the road for another few hours of hell. And it was hell. He had created a car ride bag for her, which he praised himself for making, that he had filled with crayons, paper, coloring books, storybooks, a blanket, and snacks that wouldn’t leave crumbs. He swore by it, finding solutions for the “I’m hungry” and “I’m bored” complaints that he insisted other parents adopt as if they hadn’t already thought of that before, because even though he called it a “car ride bag”, it was most certainly a “dad bag” that was a staple of fatherhood.

Leonardo thought it was one of the greatest things he had ever thought of, but he quickly regretted it when Vittoria pulled something out that he hadn’t even known she’d snuck in. She always claimed it helped her calm down. His shoulders tensed when he heard the tune of the London Bridge begin to play. “Is that your music box?” he asked, not bothering to turn around.

“Mm-hm,” she hummed before she began to sing quietly under her breath.

I’m going to kill Signora Bianchi. He looked at her through the rear-view mirror and saw her begin to color in her coloring book of a Greek garden, a pleasant smile on her face as she whispered the lyrics. It was only a few ear grating moments before the tune ended and even fewer moments in between her cranking it up again. Why am I being punished? “Principessa, I’m going to turn on the radio,” he said, reaching for the knob.

“You can’t!”

“Why not?” he sighed with irritation.

“This is my artist music!”

Of course, it is, he thought dryly. “Vittoria-,”

“I promise only for this page!” she swore, “Cross my heart!”

It was his fault. He refused to admit it, but it was his fault for believing her words and letting her play the song. Vittoria was a child who took her sweet old time with her art, so it was hours (twenty minutes) until she was finished with her masterpiece. “And done!”

“Thank Christ,” he muttered under his breath, “I’m turning on the radio now, okay?”

Anything to drown out that godforsaken tune in my head. And for a while, he was blessed with just the music as Vittoria fell into a post-lunch nap. Thank you, God. It seemed the Lord was shining on him because they were less than five minutes out without any problems. We’ll make it there and- “Papa, I feel sick,” Vittoria croaked.

No. His eyes met the small figure behind the rear-view mirror. She was hunched over, clutching her belly, and her face had gone ashy. He had to stop himself from insensitively saying, don’t throw up in the car! The hotel was right in front of them, all we have to do is make it. “Just hold on, a few moments and-,” as he made a sharp turn into the parking lot, the jolt caused her to unleash whatever was in her stomach.

The sound of her hurling was as sickening as the smell of pizza, milk, and ice cream that had been poorly dissolved by her stomach acid which also made an appearance. The sight of it nearly made him throw up, but he was better than that. He had finished parking by the time she had finished expelling her lunch from her stomach. Leonardo gave a shaky sigh as he heard Vittoria start to cry, apologizing furiously. He got out of the car and stretched his legs outside as he hurried over to her door, not taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air. “I’m-I’m sorry, Papa!”

He quickly unbuckled her from her seat belt and pulled her out of the car and settled her on his hip. He wasn’t his father, he wasn’t cruel enough to think that she could’ve controlled it, and he certainly wouldn’t punish her by making her eat it. His chest tightened just a fraction of a second remembering what he was put through, before focusing on the moment he was in. She’s just my fragile little girl. She can't help it. He knew that now, of all times, was an important reminder for her to know that he was the better parent. The one who is her favorite and who loves her most. “I know, I know you didn’t mean it,” he whispered as he felt her head.

A little warm, but she probably just got car sick. He forced his eyes to assess the damage, which was very little considering she aimed incredibly well into the bag. “Oh thank God,” he sighed before frowning.

Of course, that music box is left untouched. Of course, it is! With the exception of a few specks on the leather that could easily be wiped off and the smell that could easily be remedied by airing the car out, there was no damage whatsoever. He had been terrified that she had thrown up on the carpet that he just had cleaned. The mess was quickly taken care of and the bag was thrown out because they could just buy newer and better items later. The check-in process was swift and he wasted no time getting her into the hotel room and washing her off before putting her back in bed. Vittoria was moaning and groaning against the pillows as if she were a Victorian woman on her deathbed. He didn't know whether to roll his eyes or smile. She’s incredibly dramatic. “Thank you,” she said softly, her eyes vulnerable and wide, “For taking care of me.”

“It’s what fathers do,” he said, having her sip a cool glass of water to soothe her burning throat.

“I had fun,” she smiled.

He climbed into the bed next to her and let her lean against him, “You did?”

He had received absolutely no enjoyment in that car ride whatsoever and thought for all intents and purposes that it was a failure. “Uh-huh, except throwing up. I didn't like that,” she gave a weak laugh, “But I had fun with you.”

It occurred to him that he hadn’t snapped at her when he was annoyed, let her talk about things she was interested in, and do things that she enjoyed. Her mother was an irritable and unstable woman who probably would have already yelled at her ten minutes (he was being gracious with that number) into the drive, before breaking down herself. Who would’ve been furious at Vittoria for throwing up in the car and who would cause her to break down into uncontrollable sobs. Leonardo felt overwhelmingly smug that she had a great time with him and that he was the one who made her smile. “I had fun with you too,” he grinned.

Vittoria snuggled against him before falling fast asleep. She’s such a good sleeper. Vittoria’s breathing became soft and suddenly his breaths started to match hers, as his exhaustion caught up to him and lured him into a deep slumber. He had suffered, but she had smiled. And he had made her smile, and in his mind, that was all that mattered.

[boyinjeans]

Hi yes I’m dying right now can I get a Tedgens fic where Henry can? Not? Sleep? And goes to grab coffee so he can work where surprise surprise he finds Ted, angst/fluff ensues, your pick. Bonus points if nightmares are included.

yeah! sorry i just saw this, i’ve been busy lol. also trans!henry bc i’m projecting and i’m sad today lol

also tw/ d*ke and tr*nny used :/ uh fuck chad lmao

HENRY

It’s been years since I’ve gotten consistently decent sleep. Every now and again I can catch a wink or two, but most nights I survive off of coffee and maybe four hours of sleep. I know it’s unhealthy, but I can stop at any time. It’s just anxiety and probably ADHD, not insomnia or anything serious.

Emma’s been getting on my ass about sleeping lately because I’ve been quite... distant in class. I decided I would humor her and go to sleep at a decent time, but honestly I don’t think it’ll do much good for me. When I do sleep long enough to dream, I have nightmares. Sleeping just isn’t something I need to do. Not really anyways.

Regardless, here I am, lying in bed, trying to sleep. It’s about three am, and I’m still awake. Maybe I do have insomnia. So I take some NyQuil and lie down again, much more comfortable than before, and I find myself drifting off in no time.

Only I wake up again. In my college dorm. For a moment I’m very confused because I look down at myself at see a binder and my pre-T body. I inhale sharply thinking that it was all a dream, I’m not a professor, I haven’t transitioned fully, I don’t have friends or happiness or anything. I’m back in college and completely closeted to everyone except... Greg. And Steve. And Stu. And Mark. And Leighton. But not Chad.

I remember that I was planning to come out to him today. So I get out of bed and get dressed—he really thinks I’m just a tomboy, living in the boys’ dorms and dressing like a guy and acting like one. God is he clueless—and make my way to him dorm.

He answers the door shirtless and scans me up and down, a cute little smirk on his face. I see Mark and Leighton in the corner of the room, playing some board game, and they both give me a thumbs up. I smile and exhale. I can do this.

“Hey, Chad, can we talk?”

“Uh-oh, that sounds scary.” He laughs.

“No, not scary. Just important. Let’s go inside.”

We sit on the bed and I feel a rock settle in my stomach. This is Chad, I think. He loves me. He won’t react badly. I mean, it’s 2008, the world is a little more accepting now.

“What’s up Hayley?”

“Actually,” I gulp. I watch as Mark and Leighton discreetly leave the room. I wish they wouldn’t go. “My name is Henry.”

“What? Like a dude?” He laughs a bit. “C’mon, Hayley, that’s d*key.”

“No, it’s not. Because I’m not a girl, Chad. The guys already know and—“

“And they didn’t tell me?” Chad yells and stands up. “This all makes sense now. You’re a fucking tranny. God am I a dumbass. Get the fuck out of my room.”

“Chad, babe—“ I stand, but he slaps me and I fall to the bed.

“You know you’re just a confused little girl right? I never should have gotten mixed up with a freshman. I should’ve fucking known.” He grabs my arm and throws me towards the door. I land on my arm and hear a sickening crack. “Get the fuck out.”

“I—“

“Out!” Chad barrels towards me, but before he reaches me, I shoot up in bed, heaving and sweating, tears running down my face.

This is why I don’t sleep.

I check the time—4:52—and figure I can go to the coffee shop. They open in 8 minutes anyways. Emma should be working. It’ll be nice to see her.

It’s strange. I never have nightmares about the Apotheosis or the accident or familial deaths. It’s always about Chad. Sometimes he inches his way into my mind, so slowly that I barely notice, and before I know it, I’m missing him. No, not him, I’m missing the feeling of happiness he gave me. The happiness was always fleeting though, especially as he would always say things that put me down. Made me feel like shit.

I try not to think about him now.

When I get to Beanie’s, it’s 5:12 and I’m shaking like a small, annoying dog. I probably look manic, and honestly I feel as if I am. I’m just glad I’m not dreaming anymore, or maybe I am, because my nightmare felt terribly real.

I order quickly from Emma, but she notices something is wrong. She grabs my hand and calls me Henry—she knows it grounds me—and I try to meet her eyes but I can’t.

“I couldn’t sleep, Emma. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. I’ll see you in class,” I try to turn around but her grip on my hand is tight.

“Henry. Stay here. I know you don’t have class until 10. I’ll be here. Just sit on your laptop and try to calm down. Coffee’s on the house today.” I open my mouth to protest but she beats me to it. “No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Fine,” I grumble. That’s something I like about myself. My voice. Like velvetine, Ted once told me.

“Henry?” Speak of the devil. “I haven’t seen you since—“

“The Apotheosis?” I deadpan. Ted takes a seat across from me, and as much as I hate to admit it, he calms me down. He’s not like Chad. Not at all. Chad was sweet and sour and transphobic. Ted is an asshole with a secret soft side, a sex addiction, and an open mind.

“I’ve missed you,” he says honestly.

“You could have visited.”

“Well, I just, yknow—“

“Was over it?” I say bitterly.

Ted kind of left me high and dry. Once we were saved, we had to move out of Hatchetfield until it was clear. Most of us moved back, save Bill and his family. Charlotte moved too, to god knows where. Emma is finishing up college here, and then she and Paul are starting a pot farm in Colorado. I’m proud of her.

After we moved back, Ted just kind of dropped me. And I still don’t know why. Sure, we were never “official”—it always felt childish to label our relationship seeing as we were both middle aged men—but we sure as hell weren’t just a fling. Or maybe we were, and I was getting mixed signals. I never got over it, I just tried to forget it. I never go where he tends to go, and I never want to sleep in my old room because the sheets still smell like him.

Another reason I can’t sleep much.

“No, no no no no, I just—I-I don’t know.” Ted doesn’t stutter. “I don’t know, Henry. I was—“

“Why are you here so early? I always come here around this time to—“ avoid you. “—get a head start and you’re never here.”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me either.”

It’s quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry.” He’s earnest.

“Okay.” I’m not.

Ted’s gaze holds mine for awhile before I have to look away. I know I’m blushing because he’s smirking to himself thinking that he’s still got me wrapped around his finger. And he does. It’s bullshit. Maybe it’s because I’m so isolated and I’m just clinging to him out of touch deprivation and loneliness, but part of me feels like I would be clinging to him regardless. I’m not clingy, either.

“I was scared, okay?” He sighs. I don’t say anything, prompting him to continue. Scared of what, dumbass? I’m a walking fortress of safety. “Weirdly enough I didn’t want to lose you, so I pushed you away. I was afraid what we had was a heat of the moment thing. Like, we’re going to die! Might as well hook up with this dude. I’ve since realized how idiotic I am. But I never said anything because... you’re kind of hard to track down, yknow? And I thought showing up to your house would be too much and calling or texting would be too little, so...” he huffs. “Here we are. By chance.”

I’m not sure what he wants me to say. I’m angry at him for pulling a me and isolating himself, but I also empathize because I understand where he’s coming from. What a dumbass, though, honestly. I clung to him like a fucking koala every night and he didn’t realize how much I liked him.

“I thought the cuddling and forehead kisses kind of made it obvious it was more than a Doomsday Hookup to me,” I mumble.

“Oh.” He smiles a bit. “I’m glad—I’m glad you—I—shit. Do you wanna come over? Not to fuck, I just... I miss holding you,” he says quietly. “I really miss you Henry.”

I grab his hand. “Don’t run away again.”

“I won’t.”

[nyquiloid]

THE (IN)COMPLETE ACCURSED SAGA OF FRANK KNOWBODIE & FRIENDS LORE (2021) ft. childhoodfriends both beloved and [REDACTED] AKA my surface pen broke so now you have to listen to me talk about cursed creations from 10 years ago (sheesh)

I was at the tender age of 7 (probably), my elementary school class was lined up in the hallway for a bathroom break. A teacher asked who was still left in the bathroom, and many children responded “Nobody”. There, at that moment, a (less than) brilliant idea formed in my head, I would create a personification of Nobody. I was already familiar with imaginary friends, so this was not new for me. A friend caught on and the name Frank Nobody was coined, then later it was altered to Frank Knowbodie. At the time it was an innocent creation, a mere childhood skit, it had no idea what I had started, but it was too late, the fire was ignited and there was no turning back. 

The first year or so of Frank’s creation were slow, an imaginary friend to laugh and joke about occasionally, but as I grew older, the layers would pile. 

SECTION A: A Homeland and its inhabitants

Frank’s story begins in a territory called “No Mexico” in a city called “Knowwhere”. No Mexico is located between the border of New Mexico and Arizona, and is only visible to the citizens and certain people who just happen to be allowed to see it (and subsequently all of its citizens and creatures). As No Mexico is not widely visible, neither are its citizens and creatures, again only certain people are born with the ability to see them. 

Frank and his family were all born and raised in No Mexico, on a Ranch/Farm. They were one of the largest producers of Moosicorn Milk. I Don't want to have to explain what moosicorns are. Theres really not much else there, they lived on a Moosicorn ranch.

When Frank was around 9 years old (presumably) his parents moved to our city in Florida. The reason why was never explicitly stated or explained, and to this day I still don't know ( and IM the motherfucker that created this).

SECTION B: Frank’s Personality & Physical Traits

Frank was a dweeby kid who was prone to getting violently bullied by both my friends and I AND the other kids in my class no shit. 

Frank was slightly shy, but one you got to know him he was energetic and in some people’s words “annoying”, but it didn’t stop him from his hobbies/interests. He liked climbing trees, and he liked animals. He would frequently get injured via both of these things. 

He was a tall and lanky kid, (canonically he’s a few years older than us), he had a farmer’s tan and dark brown hair ( in my mind he was always Mexican, but my [REDACTED] Co-contributor at the time imagined him as white, but IM the one who created him so I get to say what he is and he’s CANONICALLY MEXICAN)

His favorite color was a sort of faded periwinkle blue. He also had a liking to rainbow/holographic colored things because that was the color of  moosicorn milk, and it reminded him of home. 

SECTION C: His Family

Frank had four sisters and one (or two?) brother (allegedly? I don't remember most of them) 

He had an older sister (name forgotten/unknown) She was married with a daughter (names unknown) aka Frank’s niece. 

His other older sister was named Carrie (I think??) At the time of creation she was attending a local Highschool. 

His third older sister (name also forgotten) Who was four (?) years older than us, and attended our PK-8 school. 

His fourth sister was a year younger than us and three years younger than frank. (I think her name was Molly or Maria, but I might be wrong) she was the most prominent sibling. She was more charismatic than Frank, and was allegedly popular in her grade, she was almost the polar opposite of Frank. She had a cat named Luna. 

He had a baby brother who was named John. Not much there.

I think there was mentions of an older brother in between Carrie and the oldest, but most likely only mentioned once. 

His parents were named Bob and Melinda (?) and they were, (allegedly) very rich via less-than-legal activity. Maybe this is why they moved to Florida?

SECTION D: His Pets 

Frank Knowbodie had a beloved childhood pet “dog” named Porky. 

Porky was a rather chubby looking thing brown with black spots, and had a fucked up face, making him look like a strange pig. 

Frank would bring Porky to school, which he could do only because the teachers couldn’t see him or his dog.  One day, Porky got through a fence at school and was flattened by a car, RIP. Fortunately, before Porky’s death, a neighbor of the Knowbodie’s had an equally pig like dog, which had puppies with Porky. this family allowed Frank to claim one of the pup’s which he named Piggy. 

Frank’s family also had several cats that they took in. Most belonged to Molly(?). The names were Stella, Luna, Orion, Starry, and Sunny. As you can see there was a theme. 

There was also the fact that the Knowbodies brought some of their prize moosicorn’s with them, though I'm not sure if you could call that a pet?

SECTION E: CULTURAL IMPACT 1 “Just beginning”

When Frank was 12 and we were 10, he was growing in popularity. He was a strange inconceivable entity to most, a concept at best. To my friends and I, he was very real. 

We would do our best to convince everyone that he was really there standing next to us. Eventually a surprising large amount of classmates caught on, albeit to bully/tease the ever-loving hell out of him, but at least they acknowledged him. This grew to the point that our beloved 5th grade teacher let us put a nametag for Frank on an empty desk in the back. Things were just beginning. 

SECTION F: Sara 

Originally I was going to save this section for an entirely different post but hey while we’re at it. 

Sara’s lore reached even further than Frank’s. I would typically say Sara originated when I was 6 years old, but the reality is even further back. 

At the age of 4, an illiterate child, I used to draw little “comics” about a spy named Sara and her partner Flower. So at the age of 6, Sara, ex-child spy, became my imaginary friend. Sara was eccentric and hyper. She enjoyed sewing as many pockets on to her clothes as possible. When she got older, she dyed her hair so much, people didn’t know what the original color was (it was dark brown). 

Eventually I “brought her back” when Frank began to pick up steam. Sara was mad jealous of Frank, because he was stealing my attention as a friend. She would lash out to him at first, but over time, she began to like him. She eventually apologized for her previous actions and became one of his closest friends. 

Frank allegedly had a little bit of a crush on Sara, but it would be revealed later that Sara was not even into boys. 

So there, Sara No-name, ex-child spy lesbian who enjoyed sewing and committing crimes. To be honest I don't have much of an emotional connection to Sara as I do with Frank, even if she existed long before. 

(I am also going to mention another “imaginary” character named Crystal, she was the imaginary friend of one of my longtime best friends. I don't know her backstory and don’t really have the authority to mention much else besides the fact that she was another frequent character of our made up plot)

SECTION G: The comics “ a snippet” 

This part will have an entirely different post dedicated to it, there are as many layers to the lore of the comics are there are to Frank’s story. I will try to be as brief as possible. 

At the ages of 9 to11, I started to draw little mini comics on Index cards. They would be about little caricatures of my friends and I, and other little characters we made up. The line between these comic stories and reality often blurred when we were playing around. Frank was never explicitly depicted in the comics, but only because (by technical terms) he was unable to be perceived by most. Drawing him would give away a bit of the mystery and fun of it. Unfortunately any mention of him in the comics is lost to time, as most of the physical comic cards were destroyed or lost in the incident of 2018. 

There were hundreds of these little cards, and he was included (by mention or crudely drawn shapes to allude to his form) in roughly 10 of them maybe?

SECTION H: CULTURAL IMPACT 2

I was 11-12, at the peak of Frank Knowbodie fame and impact, I was very active online. Forums, blogs, YouTube, you name it. It was time to make Frank Knowbodie an internet persona. 

Tumblr account, a Roblox account, multiple emails, A twitter, a YouTube channel, A Google Plus (RIP) were all created and dedicated to Frank. Most of these are now defunct, save for maybe the Roblox and emails. 

I remember I would post on these accounts playing as Frank. If you used to follow my original tumblr you might remember a few of my posts. I remember going on Omegle and trying to get people to follow the Frank Knowbodie accounts and understand the stories. Most of these attempts fell through unfortunately (or fortunately) and the content is lost to time. 

Section I: The Disney World Incident

There were so many different little skits and situations we placed Frank & his companions in, I couldn't possible list them all, so I will mention one of the most prominent.

In 6th grade, [REDACTED] asked a beloved friend and I to Disney world for a birthday gift, which we agreed and happily went along, with Frank trailing along as usual. 

Then... the incident. We were on splash mountain and forgot Frank on the ride. The thing was, he couldn’t ask to get out, as no one could see him. He was stuck on in infinite loop on the ride, for One Whole Year. He ate popcorn and snacks that others (that could see him) threw at him. That was the extent of it, and eventually he made his was off, and entered 7th grade with us. 

Section J: 7th grade, and Carter “a snippet”

7th grade is seen as a turning point for me and all of my friends at the time. My personal friend group turned from a trio to a quintet (kind of) to a duo and sometimes a trio again. Middle school drama caused a lot of divides, both willing and unwillingly, some of my friends and I grew apart in the years following 6th grade. But not to get too ahead of myself. 

[REDACTED] and I changed a great deal in the summer following 6th grade. I still lugged around my giant sketchbook with loads of comics and doodles when we returned in August. She on the other hand was... different, it was probably for the best, as her “true self” was revealed more and more. What does this have to do with Frank? Well she was the largest contributor to his story behind me, she started to reject our “childish” skits and games. It broke my heart a little, because I loved my stories, and I (we) were still 12, I didn’t want to grow up and stop making that kind of stuff. 

I remember one conversation, when another classmate mentioned/asked Frank, and she seemed very embarrassed and judgmental, as she nervously laughed and quickly made an impromptu joking story along the lines of “Oh, haha yeah he got expelled!” or something. She brushed it off so she wouldn’t have to face her past embarrassments while giving me a sideways glace. She was too good for it then, there was no creative fire to her story, she had a tone of voice, and look on her face that reminded me of all of my older cousins who judged and cringed at me for acting like a kid. 

So... Carter... Well in 7th grade, another beloved friend of mine had a faulty iPad. When she would tap or try to interact with it, it would let out a terrifying high-pitched shrill. So being an edgy little fuck, and also a 12 year old who loved storytelling, my friends and I called this phenomenon “Carter”. Carter was a tech-demon, who inhabited (mostly modern) technology and haunted people via the internet. 

Originally Carter’s appearance was a grey-skinned demon, with red eyes and “glitchy” wings. A pretty basic appearance for any preteen OC design. 

Later though, my older sister helped me tweak his design, he was primarily blue themed, no wings, but he had a tail with a more sci-fi ‘vibe’. 

Carter’s backstory changed over the years, but the general consensus was that  he died via some sort of technology/internet related incident in the late 90s-early 2000s . He was stuck between the human and demon world, cursed to roam eternity alone, and not visible to humans. He would go on to spook people through their devices for sport, until he traveled to my friend’s iPad, and met Frank& Friends. Frank & his family/friends are able to see him, because of some ancient deal between demons and the ancestors of the No Mexico citizens (It’s a stretch I KNOW, but all of this is pretty far fetched, and again, I was 12). Carter becomes close friends with Frank, and was very appreciative of him because he is the first person in years to show him kindness. At the time, I was a spiteful closeted kid, and I knew making Frank canonically have a crush on Carter would piss off [REDACTED], as I had suspicions that she was homophobic. (Spoiler, she was very subtlety homophobic in 8th grade and later in highschool it was kind of confirmed that she was) 

At the time I was first dipping into what would later develop into my current drawing style, and I loved to draw Carter and Frank. 

However, these drawings, and Carter’s creation, was a silent signal to the closing of Frank’s story, and my childhood as I knew it. 

SECTION K: The End of An Era, and the Impact of One Beloved Childhood Character. 

After 7th grade, my life got increasingly complicated. Friends moved on, I started to create new stories, my old comics collected dust under my bed, and Frank became a sweet memory of happier times. 

I had to move on (reluctantly), and “face reality” according to most people around me. Years past, I started highschool, and forced myself to grow up, giving up my “childish tendencies”. I doodled Frank maybe twice since I was 12, but never really looked back until now. I think at first Frank was a joke of course, but as I developed his story, he was more of a projection of my complex 11 year old thoughts and feelings. 

There was a time at 14 where I avoided mentioning him, I became what I hated, I was just like [REDACTED], I hated my younger self for acting like a kid and doing what made me happy. I threw away mass amounts of comics and trinkets I made, I was terrified of being seen as a awkward kid. I regret it now, I know know I was a young kid who was hurting so deeply from growing up, who was so scared of it. It was such a silly thing too, to hate myself for something so simple. 

I owe so much to Frank in a way. Him and his story paved a way for me today, to make my current stories and characters, more complex of course, but I still owe it all. I don't deny myself anymore, he taught me over the years that I don’t have to hide my true self, from [REDACTED] or anyone else.  As I enter senior year soon, I am so grateful for my past and the fun I has while it lasted. Its like that one stupid saying, although it’s a joke, there is a funny little truth to it. “Don’t kill the part of you that is cringe, kill the part of you that cringes.”