#dentists deserve respect bro

[simptasia]

what is it with those people who think dentists aren't doctors? medical doctors? they're manipulating teeth with metal. that's surgery. and really fucking impressive. they're doctors. surgeons!

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 6: It Wasn't All Just a Dream…?

Wait. What if it wasn’t all a dream? What will Florante do now?

You can also find more chapters of my original fiction here. Please enjoy.

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Back in Fatima High School's science laboratory…

The Biology teacher of Florante Galang and Isaiah Pascual—the soft-spoken Miss Isabelle Del Mundo, known by the faculty by her nickname "Belle" a la the protagonist of Disney's "Beauty and the Beast"—looked over their shoulders to glance at their laboratory work.

After staring intently to check their answers, Ms. Belle Del Mundo said to Florante, "Mr. Galang, don't you think Mr. Pascual should get a chance at looking into the microscope?"

The two former best friends exchanged glances. Pascual was the first to speak.

"We're just about to finish up, Ms. Del Mundo," he said to the soft-spoken teacher before taking the last slide and putting it onto the microscope so he could peer at it.

"Well," she said after a moment of deliberation, "then go ahead, boys. Remember, this is a cooperative exercise between lab partners, okay?" She then walked away.

After she left, Florante began doodling on his notebook.

"Florante," said Isaiah in an almost whiny manner. "I don't know what I'm looking at. Help."

With a sigh, Florante whispered, "The last two we haven't found are prometaphase and telaphase. Telaphase is easy because it's the cell splitting into two. If it's not split into two, it's probably prometaphase."

"How do you spell that, bro?"

"Come on, man."

The two exchanged glances again.

"I'm just kidding, Florante."

"Haha. Funny stuff. Can you spell it or not?"

"Yeah, of course. It's something like 'Pro' as in 'Pro-wrestling', 'Meta' as in 'Metal', and then P-H-A-S-E for 'Phase', right?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"The slide I got is probably the pro-something one, by the way. The cell hasn't split."

"Gotcha," said Florante as he took the slide out to label it. "The last one's probably telaphase but look at it just in case."

"Yep, it's a split cell," Isaiah confirmed after changing microscope slides. "You saved my bacon, bro. Thanks," he added.

Florante harrumphed. "I saved the both of us. You're not going to drag my grade down with you."

And, just as Galang was about to wave off how Pascual talked about his fever dream as his imagination running wild, his imagination apparently chose that moment to run wild again.

"You remember killing me, don't you?" said the pokerfaced Pascual in a deadpan monotone. "You blew my head off. You did all sorts of nasty things to our classmates too."

Isaiah sounded like something out of a horror story. Thusly, Florante resisted the urge to scream, his blood running cold once again.

Was Galang going mad? This wasn't happening, was it? Or was he in a dream again? He hadn't gone off the deep end yet, had he?

He should check out his dream journal when he got home, just in case. It helped him differentiate when something was a dream and wasn't.

It was his sole tether to sanity and objective reality at this point.

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

Who keeps dream journals of their nonsensical dreams as though they have any bearing with reality? Florante does, but his is a special case.

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in Section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 6: It Wasn't All Just a Dream…?

***

Sometimes, Florante Galang wondered if he got bullied because he deserved it.

Nine times out of ten, he'd say no. Like that one dentist who didn't recommend this or that brand of toothpaste even though nine others did.

No one deserved to be bullied the way he got bullied. However, one of those ten times he might reconsider that maybe he got what was coming to him because he did something wrong.

His feeling of inadequacy and insecurity haunted him. Maybe he had it coming. Maybe he was asking for it.

Maybe nines times out of ten, he had a brief moment of self-awareness. He got bullied because he committed the grave sin of social ineptitude.

Maybe he just needed to fit in with his classmates better. Maybe, even though they were mean to him, they were mostly excellent to one another, so there must've been something wrong with him instead.

Maybe he should be the one to adjust to them instead of the other way around.

Was he victim-blaming himself? Maybe. Or maybe he was a narcissist manipulating others to his will only to face karma from his bad behavior.

Maybe a large portion of his life leading up to this moment was a series of huge mistakes of which he learned nothing.

Maybe he should emulate their behavior except for the part where they were being jerks to him.  

Or maybe he should be a jerk to other weirdoes while imitating the manly behavior exhibited by the jocks and tough guys in his class. Find someone weaker than him to pick on so he wouldn't be the one picked on by everyone.

Maybe he simply needed to fit in with his bullies and coexist with them in the social food chain. Maybe he merely needed to grow up like his asshole classmates, who themselves were already having hookups, parties, and girlfriends.

Meanwhile, like a child, he couldn't even hold a romantic conversation with a girl his age, with him stuck in the Friend Zone for all of the girls he was actually in good terms with. Or worse.

He might even have the E.Q. (emotional quotient) of a child too, or at least that was what his mother and teachers kept telling him. Arrested development, if you would.

Outside the Dead Kids, he simply couldn't find a clique to belong with in Fatima School and its roughly 800 high school students, specifically the 200 or so students in the same year.  

He rationalized that he couldn't relate to people his age. Despite what his mother suggested, he was friendlier towards people who were older than him, like college-aged students, teachers, or other grownups.

However, even then he wasn't really all that close to anyone in school. Perhaps the truth of the matter was that he couldn't relate to people period and he was a gigantic weirdo, dork, or wimp.

A wimpy kid with no friends.

Anyway, at least he had an okay I.Q. (intelligence quotient). He sometimes made it to the Top 10 of the class. Sometimes. Bottom three of ten, usually. So at least he wasn't completely pathetic academically.

He was back to his usual ritual of barely eating lunch and finding ways and places to hide himself inside the school every recess and lunch break so he wouldn't look like (more of) a total loser to his peers.

He'd end up eating alone outside the cafeteria, near the boiler room, or under the mango trees with the circular concrete seats surrounding them time and time again. Or reading in the library until his hunger passed.

He was skin and bones practically. The wimpiest of kids. Certain sporty girls in the varsity team could probably outdo him in athletics, he was so pathetic.

So it was probably this insecurity that led him to dream the dreams he dreamt. He had also called them nightmares because it involved him murdering his bullies.

However, if it were proverbial rather than literal murder—like him imagining their murder to let off some steam from their bullying without ever daring to murder them for real—he'd understand how these dreams could be considered as the power fantasies of the powerless.

Like parents tempted to kill their misbehaving children without really meaning it.

Or maybe his being a terrible person who deserved all the bullying he ever got was just the dose of self-awareness he needed.

Maybe he should stop being so dependent on what other people thought. As long as he followed his own moral compass, they had no business dictating how he lived his life!

If he left them alone then they should leave him alone too. Right?

As long as he didn't hurt anyone else—so again, he crossed his fingers that his dream murders were nothing more than dreams—he didn't need anyone's approval.

***

As the class returned from the lab to the classroom to further discuss cell mitosis or whatever, Pascual played catch-up with Galang, walking beside him and asking him how he'd been doing.

Or more like Isaiah talked and Florante half-listened, waiting for the other shoe to drop in regards to them sharing memories of something that only happened in his, well, their dreams.

Maybe Florante misheard him the first time? And the second time? He didn't know. Isaiah didn't press the matter.

He merely asked him for the time instead, wishing to change the subject. "What time is it?"

"Let me see. It's skin thirty," Pascual said with a straight face while pointing to his bare wrist.

It took Florante a minute to get it.

"Oh."

They then both shared a hearty laugh, with Florante laughing in spite of himself. A cathartic laugh from all the stress he felt.

Dammit, Galang kind of missed this. He missed talking to his former best friend like this.

Too bad their friendship went south in the end.

Pascual then told Florante about the rumors he heard about him. How Florante had ended up joining the infamous Dead Kids of Fatima High.

How he finally got his bullies to let up with their bullying by listing their names and sending them to his teacher. A teacher that actually did something after catching Florante's bullies in the act.

How he started wooing(!?) their classmate Jennifer Tolentino.

"I wasn't wooing anyone, don't be weird," Florante told Pascual off. "I just want to be better friends with her, that's all."

Or be friends again at all. They were supposed to be friends when they first met during the first day of school, but they then drifted apart. Kind of like the situation between Pascual and him, to be honest.

Florante avoided eye contact with Isaiah all this time out of embarrassment of being told loads of gossip, rumors, and half-truths about himself.

At the same time, he had to also avoid getting caught stealing glances at Jenny from time to time as she walked on ahead of them alongside Laura Reyes.

Her bespectacled face was such a distraction that he tried not to look at her as much as possible, only to end up staring back at Pascual and his nonsense.

It didn't help that Laura was there too. They still had an awkward air about them when they were near one another.

He didn't know where to look. The floor, perhaps? Or how about the ceiling?

There he was again, falling in love with another girl who gave him an ounce of attention. Or kissed him in his dreams.

On second thought, yeah. He was dreaming, wasn't he?

Once they were back in the classroom, Florante returned to his seat and tried to listen to the rest of Ms. Del Mundo's lecture, who used an overhead projector to project transparencies onto the blackboard with the windows and shades closed.

He couldn't manage his thoughts. Was he hearing things with Pascual? Did he really say what he thought he heard him say?

***

For a change, as the bell rung and Biology class ended, Pascual continued talking to Galang. Usually, no one bothered to do so in their class.

As of late, before she went absent for a week, it had been Jenny who talked to him, but only sometimes.  

"Jenny seems friendlier to you now than before," was the icebreaker Isaiah went with. "You even had lunch with her and your gang."

'Humph. My gang, huh?' Florante thought, with Pascual avoiding calling them by their infamous name of "Dead Kids".

To Isaiah, Galang went with, "Yeah, I guess," while also wondering aloud, "I wonder why she was absent for so long."

"There's been a cold bug spreading. Must've been the change in weather."

"Yeah, that must be it."

Florante frowned, though it felt more to him like the petulant pout of a child. He looked away while resisting the urge to stick his tongue out childishly at Isaiah for good measure.

He couldn't focus on his former best friend's chatter as they grabbed their bags with their P.E. (Physical Education) uniforms and proceeded to have P.E. class at the gymnasium.  

Mixed-gender volleyball at the gym didn't catch much of Florante's attention either. He ended up playing with Pascual and his friends though, which was a relief for him.

Usually, their P.E. teacher had to force one of the multiple cliques or groups in Section St. Francis to include Florante with them. Or he ended up with the rest of the social outcasts who couldn't find a group to team up with.

He was always left out whenever the gym coach instructs the class to group themselves into four or five people.

After doing warm-up exercises and partner drills, they had a simultaneous mini-tournament of sorts. Multiple five-member teams ended up doing a set of games until the end of P.E. period.

Florante ended up in a team composed of four guys—two of them Isaiah and Florante himself—and one girl up against a team of three guys and two girls.

Naturally, Florante Galang sucked at P.E. in general and volleyball in particular.

Most of his volleyball returns resulted in shots that went outside the court, so his teammates covered his position so he wouldn't bungle more shots.

However, strangely enough, both Isaiah and even Jenny (who played against another team at an adjacent court) cheered him on, leading him to surprise himself by serving the volleyball decently, even scoring an ace or two.

Sure, their team lost in the end, but at least the unathletic Florante was able to somewhat contribute when normally he couldn't.

Well then. The day ended up better than he expected!

***

Inside the boys' locker room, while the class either changed back to their regular uniforms or just gathered their belongings to head out of the school for dismissal time, Pascual continued talking to Florante, making him self-conscious.

The introvert felt tired from all that talking—well, half-listening and barely answering—he did for so long. His social "health bar" was spent.

To explain, introverts tended to shy away from social gatherings because being in such situations took a toll on their energy. They could only take so much before becoming anxious or nervous wrecks.

Even though Pascual and Florante were having mostly one-on-one (or rather, one-sided) conversations instead of a more open social encounter with multiple people, Pascual's sudden over-friendliness after they'd acted like strangers for so long had depleted Florante's tolerance for the social situation.

"…Oh, I remember that one time, in the grade school playground, you were playing alone, pretending to be Rambo or something, tying an imaginary bandanna on your forehead…!"

"All right, ALL RIGHT! That's enough," said Florante, who now focused his full attention on his ex-friend Pascual. "I get the picture."

By the way, his bullies had caught him playing alone as a high school kid, since he spent his grade school in Makati.

"Sorry," apologized Isaiah. "You're not going to zap my brain to mush again like before, are you?"

This jolted Florante awake from any more random thoughts. He hoped the earlier declarations from Pascual was just his imagination, but no such luck.

He'd been actually delaying any potential confrontation as long as he could.

Galang's eyebrows knit together in concentration for the first time the whole day, like he had just suddenly noticed that the things happening around him didn't make sense because he was merely dreaming.

Like someone between the verge of sleepiness and wakefulness.

He then exhaled, mumbled, "Susmaryosep," under his breath, and said, "No. I only have those powers when I'm dreaming, not in real life."

The daydreaming asthmatic didn't want to look like a fool and attempt to shoot nonexistent laser bullets at one of his bullies, thank you very much.

Isaiah gave him a quizzical look. "You can totally shoot your power beams or whatever right now."

Florante scoffed at the idea. "No, I can't. That's not how this works. I need to be dreaming in order for me to use those powers. Because none of it is real."

Pascual raised an eyebrow at that. "You sure about that?"

Galang also raised an eyebrow in kind. "What do you mean?"

So Isaiah clarified. "You don't need to dream to use your powers."

What. Now hold on a minute there! "No, I can't. That wasn't real. That was just a dream," Florante dismissed the very notion until something else occurred to him.

"Hey, Pascual. How'd you know what happened in my dreams?"

Although Isaiah had been talking up a storm since Biology class, Florante just now noticed his ex-friend's hands gripping the edge of the bench they sat on in the locker with immense tension.

Like a squashed bed spring ready to uncoil.

Had Isaiah been acting this nervous around him this entire time, unbeknownst to him? Was he talking nonstop to help calm his nerves?

Why was he so afraid of him…? Oh. Right. The murders.

No, please. Not this again. Not him questioning whether his dream happened or not again! Anything but that!

"Florante Galang," Isaiah Pascual said. "That wasn't a dream. You really did kill us all."

No. NO. That couldn't be. No, no, no. Shut up, Pascual.

Pascual continued. "Was that how you were able to cope with what happened? You waved off everything as a dream? You avoided accountability that way?"

"NO! What happened was a dream!" exclaimed Florante.

"You always had the power. To destroy. To kill. It's as plain as the nose on your face," said Isaiah.

"But you can't see the nose on your face unless you look in a mirror," said Galang.

"Then let me be that mirror to your face. Let me prove it wasn't a dream," said Pascual.

Florante productively released his anger, malice, and frustrations in that dream because he was powerless in real life! Also, who had superpowers in real life? How absurd!

"Just because you were somehow able to reset everything back to the way things were doesn't mean you've completely undone what you did."

"SHUT UP!"

It was then that Florante noticed how Isaiah hadn't taken off his P.E. uniform yet even as the introvert immediately took those clothes off and changed into his school uniform.

"We remember everything. I remember everything you've done. And what a monster you were back then."

No no no nonono. Florante was not the monster Mammon accused him of! None of it was real! This wasn't real either! He was dreaming again, wasn't he?

His fever dream was supposed to be catharsis so he could successfully avoid committing a murder in real life! Or at least wish-fulfillment because he was never a violent or particularly powerful person either!

The bullies in his life had always silenced him but the one time he struck back and silenced them instead, he was the bad guy?

How was that fair? He was solely responsible for losing control? They could do whatever they wanted with him but he couldn't to them in turn?

Before the asthmatic could let out a wheezy exhale, Isaiah disappeared from view.

Then the whole world became a blur.

***

The drizzle had become mist by the time they ended up suddenly in the streets, leaving a trail of devastation behind them.

It took a minute before a bleeding Florante Galang realized that Isaiah Pascual had just pushed him from the gym lockers all the way through the soccer field, right past part of the high school building, to the back of the school wall, right into open traffic, with one hand to his chest.

They busted through wall, brick, concrete, and plaster like a bulldozer through Styrofoam.

It all happened within a second. Or a fraction of a second. Before Galang's eyes could even blink or his mind could register what had happened.

Wait. So Pascual was actually an angel too? Or maybe even a demon? An Ophanim or a Minion? Like the spaghetti monster or the maelstrom man?

The impact should've caved Florante's chest in. Not to mention broke and dislocated his bones in 30 different places.

He might've even ended up like roadkill too, if not for his Ophanim halo that served as his shield.

Thankfully, a combination of light energy and gale winds formed a protective vacuum cocoon around Galang's body that kept him safe from harm. His own halo effect, if you would.

Isaiah just looked at the (mostly) untouched Florante, his palm outstretched, his jaw agape, before he gave him a sheepish grin. "Hehehe. Didn't expect that, did you?"

"You have superpowers too?"

"Yep. See? And so do you… AH! Please don't blow my brains out!"

Isaiah flinched or perhaps even overreacted at Florante stepping towards him, with him unleashing a flurry of punches.

"I wasn't! OW! Stop punching me!" One of the fists hit Florante's nose before he could summon his light wind dome again to block the rest of the blows.

Something else then dawned to Florante as he surveyed how far they went out. "You… you almost killed me!" He considered taking a swing at his former friend, but settled with attempting to catch him.

However, Isaiah disappeared the instant Galang tried grabbing his arm. Like a fly disappearing before the fly swatter could hit it.

By instinct, Florante jumped back into the sidewalk as a car beeped at him.

He then looked around. Several onlookers began gathering around the scene of devastation, particularly near what was left of what was once a wall and a planter's box.

Isaiah ran away and Florante was about to chase him when he felt something coming at him from behind. 'What…?'

Instead of multiple supersonic punches, Galang got hit by a single spine-tingling punch that actually blew away his halo shield and rattled him to the bones.

Then it hit him again. And again.

"…Catch me if you can, Slowpoke!"

Multiple Pascuals kept appearing and disappearing, punching his weakening halo shield with supersonic punches that came at Florante stronger and faster by the second.

What was this? In spite of his panic, Florante figured what Isaiah did. He ran in a tight circle at supersonic speeds and incrementally increased the momentum of his punch until it reached an irresistible power at an unstoppable level.

Sneaky bastard.

Pascual ran at the supersonic speed of a racecar going through a racetrack, crashing through Galang's halo shield bit by bit.

The more time passed, the faster the momentous punch got and the harder it was for Florante's halo aura to resist it. Isaiah might actually break through his hallowed field. What was he supposed to do now?

"…Lightning BOLT!"

Florante thusly summoned lightning from the drizzling overcast skies just as the infinite mass punch shattered his halo vacuum field, which electrocuted Pascual while energized Galang.

This jolted and froze Pascual, but his forward momentum remained, which prompted Florante to finally dodge one of the continuous punches.

The resulting blockbuster explosion blasted both of them thirty or so feet clear into the gray heavens.

***

The next thing Florante knew, he'd landed on the roof(?!) of the Fatima High School Building.

What the hell.

He looked around him to see where he was. He felt a tingling sensation travel across his extremities. His acrophobia (fear of heights) had acted up again.

Or maybe that was the millions of volts of electricity he'd just absorbed before making the electrocuted Isaiah miss, resulting in a blast from his massive punch that jettisoned them from the streets of Mandaluyong to the rooftops of Fatima High.

It was times like this that convinced him that the time when he jumped from rooftop to rooftop in order to experiment upon using his powers was just a dream. An acrophobic would never do anything as crazy as that for real. Also, he had superpowers. Of course it was all a crazy dream.

He looked around to make sure he was indeed where he was. That was when he noticed the still figure of Isaiah Pascual beside him.

Huh. He survived the fall too, huh?

"Dammit, you weren't this powerful before," was what Florante thought Pascual murmured under his breath.

'Before…?' thought Florante. What did he mean by that?

However, as Galang braced himself for another assault, he realized Pascual's stiff body still hadn't recovered from the electrocution.

Also, because they were on the roof deck of the building, his former best friend has less running room for his supersonic punch.

Most importantly, Florante still had enough energy left from absorbing the millions of volts of electricity from the lightning strike. Perhaps 1.21 gigawatts of power. Perhaps even more than that.

A billion joules of electricity. Enough to power dozens of homes for a day. Or 10 million light bulbs at the same time. Maybe even a flux capacitor on a time-traveling DeLorean.

Should he do it? Should he test out whether this was a dream or not?

Should he hit him with his five-fingered Light Array bullets, which was now practically his finishing move? Or he could use both hands and fire all ten shots?

Nah. That was overkill. Instead, he elected to focus his accumulated power on one closed fist, cocked his arm back, and then shouted, "Thunder BOLT…!"

It made sense. Even though the high school building had a narrow roof deck, Isaiah could still dodge. So Florante might as well shoot his thread-thin concentrated laser that cut through the air and produced a powerful "thunder" or "sonic boom" shockwaves with a wider destructive area.

However, he hesitated at the last minute when he heard Pascual ask, "Thunder Bolt? So what's different between that and the Lightning Bolt you shot earlier?"

Florante couldn't help himself. It had been his pet peeve ever since he saw "Thunder Bolt" and "Lightning Bolt" used interchangeably in anime, manga, action games, and RPGs.

"…Well, obviously, a Lightning Bolt is the bolt of electricity. The thunder comes after the lightning bolt, correct? It's the rumbling sound from the shockwaves of a sonic boom. So to me Thunder Bolt is basically just a sonic boom."

"Oh, I see. I never thought of it that way."

The two then just stared at each other for a hot minute, with Galang allowing the rivulets of electric might fade away as he relaxed his shoulders and stopped cocking back his fist.

Pascual himself relaxed as well, the paralyzing effects of Florante's electric shocks finally wearing off.

***

The two former best friends sat down on the roof deck overlooking Fatima High while the rest of the world stood still.

The damage they'd wrought on the rooms, walls, and streets earlier slowly but surely disappeared, as though they didn't even touch anything.

Curious. Then again, this only affirmed Florante's stance that his supernatural actions originated from dreams. Perhaps extra-lucid dreams than normal, but dreams nonetheless.

Florante sat beside Pascual, with both doing the "Indian sit" or "Indian style" sitting position with their legs crossed underneath them, which was often linked to stereotypical portrayals of Native Americans.

It was also believed to be rooted on a meditation or yoga pose from India known as the "Lotus Position".

They shared a hearty laugh, with Isaiah stating, "Of course only you can come up with something as nerdy as making a Thunder Bolt be different from  a Lightning Bolt!"

Meanwhile, Florante himself protested, "You're the one to speak! You were the one who gave me the idea!"

Pascual blinked three times then tilted his head to the side. "I did? I don't remember."

"You totally did! That's why I made it a point to use a different kind of attack when doing a Thunder Bolt and Lightning Bolt!" said a grinning, nostalgic Galang. "You once brought the topic up to me."

"Maaan, I can't believe you've grown this strong already," said a wistful Isaiah while scratching his cheek. "I guess I should've expected it. You were among the first to awaken, weren't you?"

"…I guess? What do you mean by awaken, though?" Florante asked.

"Just what like it sounds like," Pascual said. "It's when you awaken your powers."

Oh right. It wasn't just him who awakened. There was also Gerry Jacinto. And Laura Reyes. And now, Isaiah Pascual. They all "awakened" to having their own superpowers along with Florante.

"Hey, Pascual," Florante called out, "you're an angel too, aren't you?"

"…Angel?" Isaiah repeated.

"That's what Jenny Tolentino called us," Galang continued, brushing his damp hair bangs back and heaving a heavy, asthmatic wheeze. "Angels. Demons. Either or."

"Demons, huh?" Pascual rubbed his shoulder. "Yeah, I guess you can call her that. Maybe even a monster."

"…Her?"

Pascual hesitated from revealing anything more. "Sooo how does Jenny know about all this?"

Florante replied, "She's one of us. She's also an angel."

Pascual smirked. "Isn't that just your crush on her talking?"

"What? No," Florante denied, but he has second thoughts. So far, everything tracked. Jenny confirmed they were angels then they fought against multiple demons.

She was telling him the truth, right? She must've told them the truth. He trusted her.

"I meant she has powers like ours and she awakened her powers long before we have, so I gave her the benefit of the doubt," said Florante.

Why shouldn't he trust the girl whose (alleged) back story of being much older than she looked, he found out for himself, without her prompting? He already did the background check himself!

A second later, he asked, "Wait, she hasn't talked to you about it?"

"No, it's the first time I've even learned she even has powers like us," said Pascual.

"That's strange," said Florante. "So you didn't know we're angels and demons?"

"Not a clue," said Pascual. "For all I know, we've become like the X-Men or something. Mutants who've awakened our superpowers, you know?"

"That also makes sense," said a wistful Galang. "We might be the next evolution of man. Deities. Or gods. Or heroes."

"Or villains. Or demons. Or monsters…" Isaiah trailed off.

"What happened?" Florante asked, sensing Pascual's foul mood. "Is something wrong?"

"I-It's nothing," Isaiah said, but then exhaled and shrugged. "It's about Regina…"

"Regina Mariano?" Florante repeated, remembering the girl as the one who said he had fetal alcohol syndrome.

He also remembered blasting her until she turned to ash in his fever dream.

"What happened to her?"

***

By the time Florante and Isaiah left the rooftop (via the staircase), everything went back to normal.

No hole in the wall. No broken glass windows. No interrupted traffic outside of the school. It was if they'd never fought.

Another reset or "Ctrl + Z" had happened, which made Galang presume that his fever dream was one of those resets. Nevertheless, he had to face facts.

He unfortunately did kill his classmates, but something occurred to "undo" the event, making it fade away like a dream. Was this the power of angels in action again?

Regardless, Isaiah gave Florante the lowdown on what happened to Regina. She had awakened her powers like Isaiah, Jennifer, and Florante did.

Long story short, Regina transformed into a mindless Ophanim or perhaps even a Minion. Like the crawling chaos or the spaghetti monster from before, she ended up becoming an out of control monster that Isaiah couldn't stop.

Come to think of it, Florante left out that little detail of him visiting Jenny's apartment in his dreams after seeing her name-alike in a yearbook at the library.

However, because of recent events, he had an inkling suspicion that his visit to the Tolentino abode actually happened. Like how his brief battle with Isaiah actually happened before their collective lucid fantasy disappeared right in their very eyes.  

God dammit all to hell. So he really did kill his classmates. He really did kill Laura.

He felt terrified and confused, but mostly ashamed by the fact.

A wave of guilt washed over him. What he thought was him releasing pent-up stress harmlessly was actually him harming his bullies as revenge. Like a school shooter run amok.

If everything hadn't reset back to normal with everyone still living and their school left in one piece, he'd be no better than the bullies he so hated.

No, he'd be worse than them. He'd be a murderer.

He turned what was supposed to be an eye for an eye revenge plot and instead took an arm and a leg as payment for his social humiliation.

Never mind, "An eye for an eye makes the world go blind". The term, "An eye for an eye" was created with people like him in mind: Vengeance seekers who went overboard with their revenge.

He didn't know what to feel.

On one hand, he felt horrified, guilty, and ashamed after realizing he had hurt his classmates for real.

On the other hand, shamed as he was to admit it, he felt a measure of Schadenfreude or catharsis for mostly, um, unleashing his frustrations on his tormentors back to them.

However, he wanted to crawl under a rock and die over the realization that he really did kill his former crush, Laura Reyes, as collateral damage for his mad killing spree. Ditto his teacher who merely got in his way.

They didn't deserve to die like his bullies. However, did even his bullies deserve death over humiliating him in school? Why couldn't he simply humiliate them in return? An eye for an eye?

Sure, everything went back to normal and everyone ended up alive, but he still felt dirty realizing he really did all those things. He wasn't so innocent after all.

No wonder Jenny kept acting so guarded and awkward around him. On top of him stalking her. Damn, he needed to have more self-awareness!

The more he thought about things, the more he realized he was screwed.

What he originally thought was harmless stress relief was now considered something beyond the pale. He felt like someone pulled the rug from under him.

What if he had no reset button? What if they stayed dead? He would have ruined their lives, the lives of their loved ones, and his own life forever.

He didn't mean to. He just wanted them to leave him alone. Even if they didn't end up friends or acquaintances in the end, just let him be. Let bygones be bygones, dammit.

***

The next day…

That breakfast, Florante ate his sandwich and drank his orange juice in a hurry.

For once, he felt somewhat excited to go to school. Not because he was some nerd looking forward to tests and quizzes or something.

He certainly didn't go there to meet up with any friends save for his Dead Kids acquaintances. No, if he was being honest with himself, he knew his eagerness to get to school was to see Jennifer Tolentino again.

No, no. Well, yes. He did want to see his crush again.

But aside from that, he was looking forward to using his powers for good instead of evil.

For once, he would used his dream abilities to help a (former) best friend in need save his new girl friend (not girlfriend, a friend who was a girl, Isaiah insisted) from herself.

If anything, this was his way of alleviating his guilt and shame over actually killing his classmates for real. He owed it to all the bullies he killed, even though they didn't stay dead.

Hmmm.

So if memory (of his vague dreams) served him correct, the angels who'd been chosen as candidates for the position of Archangel Gabriel was Florante, Isaiah, Regina, Gerry, and  Laura.

Maybe also Mark Zuniga? No, no. Mark only stabbed Florante. Gerry was the one who awakened his own powers, followed by Laura. In his "fever dream" that wasn't really a dream.

***

Back at Fatima High…

Regina Mariano appeared normal enough when she got to school. However, as Isaiah Pascual would explain later, she'd actually gotten mixed up with a "bad crowd".

If Florante could hazard a guess, she must've ended up being manipulated by another full-fledged demon avatar like Mammon.

They all attended classes like usual, with Isaiah giving Florante looks here and there to remind him of their plans to, uh, "save" Regina after school.

From how Isaiah described her transformation, her Ophanim/Minion form or biblically accurate angel/demon body was reminiscent of a geometric polygon. Or pyramids glued together at the bottom.

An object instead of an organism. An abstraction instead of something living.

Isaiah admitted he was no match against her and her growing power, but he thought that maybe with Florante's power and help, they could beat the sense back into his estranged girl friend.

Galang then told Pascual about how Ophanims were actually awakened with the purpose of becoming avatars of famous angels or demons like Gabriel or Raphael.

However, it hadn't quite sunk in that Isaiah, Regina, and Florante were bound to fight for the position of Gabriel's avatar sooner or later.

Florante wasn't too clear on how this avatar business worked himself. He made a mental footnote on asking Jennifer more about it later.

Oh right. Jenny. Should Florante end up facing off against her too? She was already the Raphael avatar, so it should be okay.

However, he ended up breaking his promise to her to forget about this angel and demon business.

He felt at times that Jenny acted too guarded around him. Even hostile at times. Seeing that he had every intention of breaking his promise to her, maybe her behavior was warranted.

No. He had to do this favor to Isaiah. To make it up for what he did to his bullies.

He'd apologize to Jenny later. For now, he had to concentrate on Isaiah's friend Regina.

Sure, Regina wasn't the most pleasant of classmates to Florante himself, but he really wanted to make up for the sins he committed that haven't actually been erased.

Some of his bullies actually remembered him killing them. Remembered his past sins.

His sins that actually happened and were real, despite them disappearing from reality like forgotten dreams.

***

After dismissal time…

It rained particularly hard that afternoon, such that it took every ounce of the clumsy Florante's concentration to make it out of school without slipping on a puddle or getting the hem of his pants wet from wayward splashes.

He even managed to cling to the nearby chain-link fence of the school's entrance and exit to save himself from falling.

He shook his head, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. As amazing as he and Pascual probably looked earlier with their superhuman feats, he looked downright pathetic without his powers and with his actual clumsiness.

If he were a girl, perhaps he'd look more endearing instead of pathetic, like a cute klutz. As it was, he felt less of a man for being an uncoordinated goof with not a single athletic bone in his body.

It was times like this that made him doubt (perhaps hope) that his imagined sins or dark fantasies against his classmates remained as such.

Not that hoping for their misfortune subconsciously was any better, but at least it didn't really happen.

Anyway, Regina Mariano had been hanging out with these shady people after dismissal time and her friend circle—of which Isaiah was a part of—was getting worried about it.

Appropriately enough, she seemed like the poster child for an after-school special on wayward kids who hang out with the wrong crowd.

As typical of such specials, Regina was your average tomboyish girl next door who wore a ponytail haircut and sported a dyed brunette hair that stood out from her tan skin.

Regardless, Pascual insisted that her meetings with these questionable and suspicious persons had something to do with both him and her awakening their angelic powers.

So what was Regina's deal? Pascual alleged she got into contact with some talent agency and they were going to make her into a star. However, they instead awakened her angel self and turned her into an outright monster with their schemes.

Pascual attempted to save her, with the stress of her awakening also triggering his own angelic transformation, but she proved too powerful for him.

As her guy best friend, Isaiah followed her to their talent offices, feeling that something was afoot. From what Florante could surmise, Regina was a bit of a naïve country bumpkin and the agency was taking advantage of her and various other talents.

That was news to Florante, who only knew Regina for her mean girl antics with him whenever they came across each other.

Then things got weird from there.

For his part, Galang could only wonder if his other encounters with Ophanims or Minions involved such schemes.

The spaghetti monster seemed to fly out of nowhere at the school parking lot. Meanwhile, the indefinable shadow man was someone he and Jenny detected along with Mammon in the middle of Makati.

Jeez. Florante could only shake his head.

That American(?) white guy in a formal attire was Mammon? The infamous demon Mammon? Or at least an avatar of his. Wild. And Florante himself was supposed to be the avatar of the world-famous Archangel Gabriel to boot.

Or he would become Gabriel's avatar once he went past being an Ophanim and evolved into a Cherubim then a Seraphim.

Regardless, Florante skipped his school service ride home to (again) commute elsewhere, this time with Isaiah, to Ortigas on Isaiah's dime.

They considered using their powers to get there, but they decided against it to conserve their energy and use their powers on saving Regina instead.

***

The duo sneaked (snuck?) around the conference hall leading to an amphitheater where a seeming talent show took place. Some were on stage singing and dancing. Others served as the audience.

On the front row were some well-dressed judges, including a drop-dead gorgeous Caucasian lady who had the looks of a Hollywood actress.

She had blonde hair complimented by her blue eyes. She also wore a flashy blue gown and shoes that matched her dress yet seemingly decorated a closed heart.

At the back of the stage were various contestants with numbered sashes, among them was Regina herself.

What was all this now? A talent show? Star Search? Tanghalan ng Kampeon (Contest of Champions)?

Or perhaps it was a beauty pageant like Miss Universe or Binibining Pilipinas (Miss Philippines)? No, there were dudes there too.

'What are they planning?' Florante wondered. The setup seemed far too elaborate just to awaken the angel (or demon) within Regina. What was this supposed to accomplish?

Using Pascual's teleportation-like speed, they both got passed through the security guards and ended up at the back of the conference room's audience, with all of them none the wiser.

It was actually pretty packed in there. Standing room only. So Isaiah and Galang stood and observed what was happening.

In front of them was an ordinary talent show. They witnessed acts like an amazing male singer who sung a Whitney Houston song while sounding nearly exactly like Whitney with his impressive falsetto or female "head voice" range.

A minute later, there was a group of break dancers on stage. From there, a long-haired musician with an electric guitar did a three-minute guitar solo. Afterwards, another singer, a girl who was classically trained in opera, sung an operatic version of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody".

They even featured drag shows with male cross-dressers who could pass for women.

The pair of classmates stood there, mesmerized by the amount of talent before them. Applauding along with the rest of the audience.

Then it happened. Just like with Mammon's Minion, both Florante and Pascual felt the presence of their fellow angel. Or demon. Celestial being, perhaps.

The curtains parted and then they saw Regina arrive on stage. It was apparently her turn to sing in the talent show. However, instead of singing, she instead began to transform.

They then heard a high-pitched screech, like metal crunching on metal, that became fast and painfully loud.

Startled, Florante looked around him. He saw several things at the same time.

Nothing moved in slow motion the way it did in movies. Rather, his brain felt like it worked overtime due to an adrenalin rush, allowing him to absorb multiple scenes and have them register in his brain at once.

Maybe it wasn't the same case with the speedster beside him who stared at what happened before him with dilated eyes and an unhinged jaw. Florante couldn't tell.

Regina obviously stood out from the sea of faces staring back at her since she was at center stage in this talent show and all, with them wearing the same faces of horror that Pascual did. That Florante probably did as well.

The contestants of the talent show then glowed, as though they themselves had a halo of aura like angels would.

The tendrils of this bright energy got sucked into Regina's body, who herself begun singing a Regine Velasquez song that Florante couldn't quite place.

He also idly wondered if Regina was named after Regine, a famous Filipina singer.

Florante feared that the violently winding soundwaves from Regina's song would converge into a climactic ante, like rapids to a huge waterfall, but then it became a calm lake  that only produced ripples.

Just the purest song.

The fainter variegated spirit energy from the audience swirled along with the more vibrant multicolored auras of the contestants, all converging together into Regina's aura.

This made everyone act lethargic, with the seated viewers slumping down on their seats and the standing contestants plus stage crew crumpling down on the floor in a dead faint.

All of them did so except the two angels at the back—Regina's classmates—and the judges near the front of the stage. Particularly the pretty woman who looked like a Tinsel Town goddess.

"…Pascual?" Regina said, waking from her reverie and breathing into her microphone.

Her eyebrows then furrowed as she squinted and focused them on the person beside Pascual. "Wait. Is that… Florante Galang? Why is he with you, Isaiah?"

"Ay palaka! (Frogdammit!) She caught on to us! The jig is up!" exclaimed Pascual, which only pissed Florante off.

"Susmaryosep, Pascual! What's the plan now?" complained Galang. "You do have a plan just in case she noticed us, don't you?"

"I didn't think things through! Sue me!" said Isaiah. "Just… help me rescue her, okay?! Use your powers or something!"

The Hollywood beauty took a cursory look at the two high school students in uniform and then asked Regina, "Friends of yours?"

Regina stared back and forth between the svelte woman and her classmates then nodded, "They're my classmates, Miss Spelvin," she said aloud, through the microphone.

"Please. Call me Georgia," Georgia Spelvin do declared.

It was then that Florante realized that Miss Spelvin didn't open her mouth when speaking. Like with Mammon, she communicated telepathically. On a frequency only fellow angels and demons could listen to.

Daring to be brave and remembering his former best friend's request to save Regina from the influence of literal demons, Galang shot a Thunderbolt at Georgia instead of his other bully classmate.

The spellbinding Spelvin swatted the Thunderbolt away, which created an ear-splitting sonic boom that made the whole place rumble.

For his part, Florante had already covered his ears, but soon Pascual and even Regina followed suit and did the same.

The three then bore witness to Spelvin changing form from a beautiful blue-eyed blonde in a blue dress to a sultry red-skinned demoness with bat wings, fingernail claws, the wild hair of a harridan, and a black dress seemingly made of the darkest starless night.

An improvement from Mammon's squat gremlin form that Florante and Jenny got exposed to back in Guadalupe Church for sure, but still! Her true form was a She-Devil?

Georgia Spelvin's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Now who told you that's my true form, li'l boy?"

"Wait, you and Jenny fought another demon like her?" asked Isaiah, startling Galang. This telepathic communication between fellow angels and demons was more trouble than it was worth!

As Spelvin strode towards Regina, the two judges beside her turned to dust, which made the hairs at the back of Florante's neck stand on end while beside him, Isaiah turned blue in horror.

Georgia then told Regina telepathically without regard to the two angels who'd overhear, "Now's your chance to use the power you've absorbed from everyone in this talent show to take control of your Minion form."

And soon both Galang and Pascual saw clear as day the literal talent flow like neon tendrils of spiritual energy from the unconscious contestants to Spelvin's hand into a floating sphere of energy. Like an aurora borealis.

The demons had weaponized their passion and used it to their abusive advantage. How devilish of them to do so, but that was to be expected.

Quite a bit of the metaphysical ball of talent then got transferred unto Regina in the form of a seeming solar flare.

Then, like a ghost, the demonic Spelvin vanished and faded into existence.  

From there, Regina opened her mouth, resisted the urge to transform into her geometric self, and sung a song to end the world.

***

Dammit.

Why did it feel like the world was always at stake when Florante dealt with an awakening angel? Or demon?

Regina sang a lyricless hymn of the damned that warped their perception of reality. The sound waves from the song kept Florante's attempts at shooting her down with projectiles from hitting her. They kept missing or dissipating around her.

Meanwhile, on Isaiah's part, he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to hurt his friend and classmate. He certainly didn't wish to use that momentum-filled punch on her.

However, she might become even more powerful now than she was when she went berserk with her first awakening.

So Mr. Pascual bravely ran away.

…What?

Regina took a break from her singing that rendered every energy projectile Florante shot at her into harmless heat and light. "What are you doing even here, you fetal alcohol syndrome baby?"  

"AH! You called me that again! Even after I told the teacher on you for bullying me!" exclaimed Florante, who doubled his efforts by shooting Lightning Bolts at himself and storing enough power inside his body to resist Regina's repellant sound waves.

"You're such a li'l snitch, you dork," Regina said with a roll of her eyes. "You're a wimp and a coward to boot. Shame on you."

She then started humming at a specific frequency that resonated with the rest of the building.

Florante considered asking her if she remembered him killing her in his fever dream, but he pushed such thoughts away before they could fully form into words in his head, fearing she'd overhear him telepathically.

The sound waves from her voice came at a shorter-wave vibrato, almost like a bird's trill, which echoed across the amphitheater then transmitted unto the rest of the structure, making its very foundations shake and dance to the beat of her wordless song.

And so the room and the building started to rumble and shake from the droning hum of Regina's powerful singing pipes.

Soon, all the glass panes and mirrors nearby broke or went on the verge of shattering. Deep faults and hairline cracks appeared from the windows to the plaster walls while the floor below them and the ceiling above them trembled like scared children.

Florante hesitated, with him second-guessing himself now that he realized his past dreams weren't dreams and he and everyone else could die for real if the whole building were to collapse upon them.

However, just in the nick of time, Pascual returned, blasting through the wall from behind Miss Mariano instead and pushing—not punching or striking—her forward.

It took the next second for Florante to realize Pascual might've probably run the entire block or even globe and back to produce enough kinetic energy to penetrate through Regina's melodic defenses with supersonic might.

Regardless, that momentous push did the trick. It stopped the building from crumbling to dust just in time.

However, to Pascual's horror, he went overboard and built up enough momentum to push Mariano away with the strength of a freight train.

"AAHH…! Pascual…!?"

"Oh no! GINA…! I'm SORRY!"

For a split-second, the sonic siren changed into the geometric object Isaiah described from before. She was hard to miss, with her occupying most of the amphitheater.

She probably shifted into that form for self-preservation's sake. Otherwise, she would've turned into a messy red stain of blood and guts on the ceiling and walls.  

Florante couldn't believe what he just saw. He also couldn't react in time before the geometric fallen angel did a banshee shriek that blew him away and shattered his eardrums.

"AUGH!" Galang cried out, and when he gnashed his teeth in pain, he felt the enamel on them crack as well, thus worsening his agony.

The supersonic screech of her Minion self lacked the controlled nuance of her human form's song for sure.

However, for Pascual's part, he couldn't be happier. He grinned and exhaled in relief. "Oh, thank goodness, Gina! You're not dea… URK?!"

Regina Mariano finally shifted back to her human form, her hands throttling Isaiah by his neck. "You almost killed me, you jerk!"

"Wait (cough), I-I didn't mean to…!" Isaiah choked out.

"Whatever. I'm going to control this power and become queen of this world. Just you wait and see," she said, dropping Pascual to the floor before she picked up the microphone and began singing again, her heel firmly stepping on Isaiah's face.

A half-conscious Florante thought, "Rule the world…?"

Huh. Why didn't he think of doing that when he first got his powers?

He was too shortsighted with this angel and demon avatar thing that he didn't realize the full implication of his gifts. He'd rather pettily get back at his bullies than aim at something higher. Like world domination.

But to be honest, why would he want to conquer the world? What good would that do? So he'd become President of Earth? A clueless teenager like him should have that responsibility?

Meanwhile, the compromised position Pascual had with him getting stepped on by Regina also made Galang's cheeks warm up.

Mariano kept Isaiah pinned down to the ground by stepping on his face, huh? Florante wished it were him instead.

He shook his head to wave off such sordid thoughts. He needed to set his priorities straight.

Galang attempted to get up and move, but the ground started shaking again. The building creaked and swayed, like a house of cards about to topple over.

What was he supposed to do now? Her singing served as her shield against 100 percent of Florante's myriad of projectiles. His own halo shield couldn't block off Regina's sound waves either. He was a sitting duck.

Also, if he didn't feel like killing the crawling chaos Minion from before, that went double or even triple for his classmate. Not that he could at this rate, but he definitely didn't want to.

Whatever rage he felt for his bullies back in his fever dream had faded away, replaced with shame and embarrassment after he realized he killed them for real back then.

He could only helplessly stare as the ceiling plaster cracked and buckled while bits of dust, rock shards, and debris fell on the unconscious contestants and audience.

They were about to serve as more collateral damage from the awakening of yet another (fallen) angel. Just like Laura Reyes.

According to Pascual, the people who died when he first tried stopping Regina's rampage the first time she awoke remained dead.

They didn't revert back to normal like with what happened when Jenny and Florante defeated the spaghetti monster and the living maelstrom.

Where was Florante's great power and creativity in using them when saving lives? Was he only useful against helpless people, like his powerless bullies before some of them discovered they too had powers?

He was so helpless against Regina that he might as well turn into an Ophanim himself to battle her full force. He didn't remember his monstrous gyroscopic and multi-eyed form having ears, after all. Just endless revolving eyes on fire.

"Wait, you have an monster form too?!" said Isaiah without thinking after hearing Florante's thoughts, as though forgetting (or not believing) Florante claiming they were angels with alternate, monstrous "true" forms.

Oh, right. Angels and demons could sense and communicate telepathically with one another. Florante should keep his thoughts to himself. Isaiah accidentally overheard his thoughts again.

Hold on a minute. He could project his thoughts to those two, couldn't he?

He got it all wrong. He had his priorities straight from the start!

So he stared and focused on his classmates while making his concrete thoughts known to them even as he, a socially awkward teenager, would normally have trouble expressing himself.

The two seemed unaware of how they looked, what with Regina stepping on Isaiah but hesitating to hurt him or finish him off while Isaiah himself didn't seem to mind it one bit.

Also, from the angle where Pascual lay, he could totally look up from under Regina's dress.

The two received the message loud and clear.

Regina screamed and covered herself up while an apologetic Isaiah reassured it wasn't what it looked like.

Mariano did a swift stomp at Isaiah's head that would've squashed it like a watermelon had he not stood up in time. "Manyakis ka! (You pervert!)" she exclaimed. "You're both perverts!"

"You really are a snitch, Florante!" shouted Pascual at his former best friend while backpedaling deftly across multiple unconscious contestants and audience members.

For that fraction of a second though, Regina left herself wide open. So Florante shot her full of light bullets to force her to change into her Ophanim/Minion form.

"LIGHT ARRAY!"

All ten of Florante's energy projectiles hit their target, with each going off like the electromagnetic pulse version of blockbuster bombs.

It wasn't the most honorable tactic, but it worked.

Also, Galang had the presence of mind to envelop himself in his electric wind halo sphere and push Regina backwards from the stadium through several walls up until they were outside the building to save the unconscious people inside the amphitheater from harm.

"Ah! Florante, you bastard…!" the backpedaling Pascual, uh, forward-pedaled towards the pair. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm saving everyone before… AH!"

Then, from outside the venue, right in the middle of Ortigas, Regina Mariano began to change and shift forms herself. Like with the flying spaghetti monster, Regina's true angel/demon form towered over Florante and Isaiah like a gigantic geometric monument.

A floating blue pyramid that might as well be an alien ship. Or a tinted Star Destroyer from Star Wars.

'Now what?' thought Florante, which only made Pascual scream at him harder. 'Oh right. You can still hear me, huh?'

"Now it's you who hasn't thought things through!?" Isaiah screeched. He then saw images from Galang's memory flash before his eyes.

Of Florante killing both him and Regina.

She actually forced him to act because she was about to kill all those people back in the amphitheater herself.

With misty eyes and a sniffle, Florante said, "I don't want to kill her again, Pascual. Or hurt her any further."

***

To Be Continued…

The first incarnation of "Fantasy of Evolution" in my mind back in the early 2000s  involved Gabriel De Angeles (currently Florante Galang) ending up seeing his best friend J.D. (reminiscent of Isaiah Pascual) dying because of the War of Angels and Demons.

Also, yes. The Ophanim/Minion form of Regina Mariano is reminiscent of Ramiel the Geometric Angel from Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Fascinating how stories and creations change as you yourself develop into a person and as an author, huh?

Farewell, Abdiel

[gizkasparadise]

cdrama rec/review: go ahead

KDRAMA AND CDRAMA MASTER LIST OF REVIEWS

Series: go ahead Episodes: 40 Genres: family, healing/melodrama, slice of life, romance Spoilers in the Rec: for the first 20% ish/set-up If You Like, You’ll Like: reply 1988, le coup de foudre, find yourself (same production company/main male actor), rain or shine/just between lovers, found family stories, meet again stories

Rank: 10/10** (see Drawbacks section)

PREMISE

widower hai chao and his 6 year old daughter jian jian live happily above his noodle restaurant despite the recent, tragic death of his wife. one day, dysfunction junction a married couple (he ping, a police officer, and chen ting, a real piece of work) move into the same building with their 7 year old son, ling xiao. immediately, jian jian attaches herself to ling xiao, who is unexpectedly grim for a small child. 

because ling xiao’s family is less-than-healthily grieving the loss of their youngest child, ling xiao’s sister who died in a terrible accident. The Apartment of Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms eventually implodes, ending with chen ting abandoning her husband and son. he ping, suddenly a single father, and hai chao come to a friendly partnership that is clearly alluding to gay marriage where they co-raise both of their kids--hai chao as the primary caregiver, and he ping supporting them financially through his job as a policeman.

meanwhile, the neighborhood busybody is dead-set on getting hia chao remarried. eventually she introduces him to a divorced single mother, he mei, and her son zi qiu, who is ling xiao’s age. they sort of start to date, but it culminates in he mei skipping town and leaving zi qiu behind. hai chao, man with a heart of gold, informally adopts him and zi qiu becomes jianjian’s foster brother.

from there, the trio grow up happily and become inseparable. but once zi qiu and ling xiao graduate high school, the bullshit parade their respective childhood skeletons reappear in their lives. circumstances lead to the boys moving overseas, leaving jianjian and their fathers behind. 

they reunite after 9 years, when the boys return to a home where they hope to pick things back up from where they left off. things are more complicated than that, as jianjian finds herself in a new life and surrounded by new people. 

MAIN CHARACTERS

li jian jian

hai chao’s daughter and the only girl in the family. she attended the required short-hair-low-grades training program required of all cdrama youth female leads. super positive and outgoing, as well as the youngest of the three pseudo-siblings, jian jian grows up spoiled and over protected by her father and brothers, and as a result is completely devastated once her family falls apart. it’s so sad.

after the time skip, she’s an on-the-verge successful artist who makes woodcarvings, and exudes big art bro energy. inhales sugar like it’s nobody’s business. she inherited her father’s disease called caring too much, and it’s incurable!! 

ling xiao

the eldest brother and resident fun police. ling xiao comes from a seriously toxic home that finally seems to improve once his mother leaves. but then she comes back. fucking great. introverted to the point of being withdrawn to anyone but his chosen family, ling xiao’s had to carry a lot of emotional weight that takes a larger and larger toll on him as the series progresses. please get this boy some therapy. 

becomes a dentist because jian jian needs one. wears a lot of monochromatic outfits with low necklines because heavy angst but make it fashion. has been in love with jian jian since high school and is still carrying that torch 9 years later.

he zi qiu  

the middle child who grows up in hai chao and jian jian’s home, and is her foster brother in all but paperwork. hotheaded, zi qiu and jian jian basically share two brain cells that ling xiao routinely takes from them for safekeeping. he spoils jian jian, sneaking her snacks and junk food and wants to become a pastry chef so he can open a sweet shop for her!!

my favorite character. just wants to be wanted 8( him and hai chao’s relationship is my favorite dynamic in the series. will sob while driving a pink moped. is too proud to beg

li hai chao (left) and ling he ping (right)

the greatest (hai chao) and okayest (he ping) dads in the world! noodle dad/hai chao has never done anything wrong in his life, ever, and we know this and we love him. he ping isn’t a bad person, but demonstrates pretty classic absentee parenting/isn’t as emotionally present in his son’s life as hai chao. hai chao is the heart of the family, and would do anything for his kids 8( 

SOME SUPPORT CHARACTERS 

tang can (left) and qiu ming yue (right)

jian jian’s #GirlGang and roommates. they, like literally everyone in this drama, have some severe mom issue hang-ups. tang can (left) is a former child actress who is struggling with her lack of success as an adult and gives well-meaning but absolutely terrible advice on the regular. 

ming yue (right) is jian jian’s best friend since childhood and as an adult is trying to break free from her mother’s controlling nature--she’s also had a thing for ling xiao for the last 9 years. raises fish for symbolism purposes.

chen ting

ling xiao’s mom and certified garbage human. unable to cope with the death of her daughter that was her fault lbr, she abandons her family and disappears for ten years. she forces her way back into ling xiao’s life when he turns 18, where it’s revealed that she’s remarried and ling xiao has a younger half-sister chengzi (”little orange”). shit goes down, and soon ling xiao is forced to move back to singapore to serve as primary caregiver to both his mother who abandoned him and the half sister he barely knows. 

emotionally abusive and basically hits every single square on the toxic parent bingo card. i just. i just hate her. even typing this out is making me mad.

he mei

zi qiu’s mother. after a few dates with hai chao, she ends up ditching her kid and disappearing for unknown reasons. is a slightly better parent than chen ting but that’s like saying some poison kills you slower. the show tries to bring us around on her but it didnt work for me. 

SOME OTHERS

zhuang bei, zi qiu’s best friend growing up who i would like a lot less if he wasn’t played by the same actor who played my beloved dachuan

zheng shuran, jian jian’s first boyfriend and fellow artist who’s got a weird thing for women’s waists and pretentious artists’ statements

du juan, jian jian’s friend who co-owns their woodworking studio. has absolute trash taste in men

chengzi, ling xiao’s half-sister who can be a brat but dear god does she need to be protected/saved 

**DRAWBACKS

so this is a weird one for me. what i didn’t like i really didn’t like, but what i loved i really loved. ultimately, the factors/uniqueness of this show and the loveability of the main characters outweighed the negatives and it’s one of my favorite dramas.

THAT SAID. i got some #thoughts on this one. 

first, there are literally no positive mother figures in this show. not a damn one. they are all negligent or controlling at best or down right abusive at worst. no woman over 30 is portrayed positively and that’s a big No from me. 

the last 10 eps have some pacing issues and focus on the wrong people. spending the remaining episodes focused on one of the most universally hated characters vs. the main family was a bad move 

the show tried to redeem or make us sympathize with characters that were, to me, completely irredeemable. one case is worse than the other, but both of them were terrible people that deserved to be cut out of the main family’s lives.  

REASONS TO WATCH

the main family. the characters are so wonderful and nuanced, and their dynamics with one another were amazing. you’ll fall in love with hai chao aka noodle dad and the trio. they go through so many trials but they still stick together and it’s ultimately a healing drama and i loved it very much.

the central romance was less in focus, but the pining is enough to make jane austen emerge from the grave. i loved the leads together, and while LOL ling xiao’s attachment to jian jian was not always healthy, they supported each other and it made me smile. i love me a tortured pining dude.

#Acting. everyone played their parts to perfection. the child actors in particular were so well-cast (esp baby zi qiu)

the soundtrack lmao. you watch the opening credits and know you’ll need to buckle up

idk it’s a very unique show, and i haven’t seen one like it. reply 1988 comes close, but it doesn’t tackle the same issues and it was all just very real and earnest. 

Final Thoughts.

GOODNIGHT, GOOODBYYYYYE MY CHILDREEEEEEEN

[jamesbucksiclebarnes]

Rating: Mature - Language, Mentions of Violence.

Chapter List: [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7] | [8] | [9] | [10] | [11]

[AO3 Link] | [Fic Page]

SERIES SUMMARY:

“Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn’t make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But because of what she was now.”

Having found herself serving as the right-hand to the Governor for too long, Synnove le Jacques does her best to make things right with the people of the Prison. Stuck beside her partner in crime, her irritatingly obnoxious and hideously problematic best friend, Merle, she does her best to fight back against the monster she has let the Governor become.

CHAPTER TITLE: Battle is the Want of All Man.

Hershel and Andrea’s voices cut in and out, partially obscuring the Governor’s words. But I’d heard enough.

“I don’t want your prison,” he had said. “That doesn’t sound safe at all. I mean, you lost your wife, another man… What good would that do me? Best you stay where I can keep my one good eye on you. I want Michonne. And I want my girl back. Turn them over and this all goes away.”

I clenched my teeth so hard it was a miracle they didn’t shatter into a million pieces. My girl? Since when was I “his” girl? If I hadn’t been sitting on the car bonnet next to Daryl at that moment, I probably would have launched into attack mode right then and there. Thankfully, his body was between me and the door. It gave me enough pause to think logically.

“You’ve obviously got big plans,” Rick remarked. “Like you’re the guy who’s gonna lick this thing. Bring us back from the brink. So why waste your time with a two-bit vendetta? On this one girl who decided to think for herself? Why risk it all? You could have a statue of yourself in the town square, Governor.” Rick’s low chuckle almost set the hairs on my arms upright. “Killing Michonne, obsessing over Jacques, it’s all sort of beneath you, don’t you think?”

“You could save your son,” was the Governor’s reply. “Save your daughter. Everyone you know. It’s your choice.”

The gap between the Governor’s statement and Rick’s response was almost enough to give me a fucking aneurysm.

“If I give you Michonne… If I hand over Jacques… How do I know you’ll keep your word that you’ll stop?”

He wouldn’t.

Something inside me had to believe that Rick already knew that. Even after only a few days around the man, I knew he wasn’t an idiot. You didn’t get as far as their group had with a leader that didn’t have at least an ounce of common sense.

I didn’t hear the response. Martinez said something to Sean right as the Governor’s voice filtered out through the metal door, obscuring my ability to distinguish the words. A curse escaped me, barely loud enough for even Daryl to hear.

When the Governor pulled open the door, everyone was suddenly at full attention. Daryl and I straightened from our slouched positions by the bonnet of the car, watching him as he walked past us with barely a glance in my direction. He was making a point of ignoring me, of pretending he didn’t care I was standing on the other side of this. I knew better and watched him until the very moment he climbed into their car and slammed the door shut.

Rick emerged a moment later, hand on his belt as he walked purposefully toward our own car. His face was all hard lines, eyes focused straight ahead. Not a word was exchanged between any of us as we climbed into our respective vehicles.

I shot Martinez one last, lingering look, hoping he’d see sense before things got out of hand. He gave me a small, sad smile as they pulled away from the edge of the road.

The drive back to the prison was uneventful. Rick didn’t say a word and neither did Hershel. I began to wonder whether this esteemed leader would be truthful about their exchange, if he would inform everyone that the Governor had put their lives upon the heads of Michonne and I. Was he considering it? He couldn’t truly believe the Governor would leave the prison be after all this. I refused to accept he was that stupid.

The people of Woodbury had known Philip, had trusted him. His manipulation of them was understandable. Many of them had yet to see his dark side. Rick knew only the worst of him, and I had to believe he would make his decisions accordingly.

When we arrived back at the prison, Carol and Maggie were there to open the gate. Daryl’s bike drove in first, followed closely by us. Once we had all climbed from the car, Rick called for us all to get inside.

I spotted Merle by one of the cells lining the corridor. He stood beside Michonne and straightened his back when he saw us entering the cellblock.

Rick walked down the corridor a fraction further than the rest of us, reaching into one of the open cells to retrieve a hunting rifle. He turned back to face us, looking between the gathered faces of his people with a pensive expression.

“So, I met this Governor,” he announced, sounding almost amused by the title as it rolled off his tongue. “Sat with him for quite a while.”

Merle cocked his head to the side. “Just the two of you?”

Rick nodded.

The older Dixon glanced toward me, cocking a brow. I shook my head with a deep frown, which made him scoff. He pushed off from the cell door he had been leaning on and walked across the opening before Rick, looking to his brother as he passed. “Should’ve gone when we had the chance, bro.”

He came to a stop beside me. We both looked up to Rick as he stood a step up on the staircase behind him.

“He wants the prison,” he announced.

I nodded, smiling slightly, glad he had seen through the Governor’s bullshit.

“He wants us gone… Dead. He wants us for what we did to Woodbury.”

Everyone seemed unsettled by this, shuffling in their places on the concrete floor.

“We’re going to war,” Rick said with finality, looking at each of us in turn before stepping down from the staircase and walking out of the cellblock.

The silence was almost palpable. Daryl stepped forward and looked to Merle, who looked down at me, as if questioning whether we were going to stay and fight. I gave him a tight nod, which he returned to his brother.

I was in this fight whether I was with them or not. The Governor would not allow me to live either here or there in peace. He’d want me gone, removed from the equation, so he could sleep fitfully at night. But he was fooling himself if he thought it would be that easy.

If it was war he wanted, a war he was going to get.

#

To say things were tense after that would be an understatement.

Merle, Michonne, and I continued to press Rick about the possibility of attacking first, to which his response had remained the same over the past day and a half. “It’s too risky,” he’d say. “There’s another way.”

Yeah, I’d think to myself. And that “way” involved handing Michonne and I over to a man who wants to shoot us in the face.

I kept that to myself. Hadn’t even told Michonne. It had been a difficult decision, whether to tell or not, but I’d come to the conclusion it was best that only one of us remained on edge. Ignorance enabled Michonne to more genuinely attempt to fit in here, to make friends of the people huddled in the cellblock. I couldn’t. Not when my attempts were spurred by that minuscule sense of doubt in the back of my mind, the thought that Rick couldn’t send me away if his people liked me. When they came up to me, I remained nothing but pleasant, but I was guarded. I didn’t want a tainted beginning to a friendship. These people deserved better than my unintentional manipulations.

Still, it was like I couldn’t help myself. Beth had been first, mostly because of the baby. In case you couldn’t tell quite yet, I had a soft spot for kids. Always have.

Merle had begun to frustrate me quite early in the day. He’d begun ripping into the mattresses throughout the cellblock, no doubt looking for some kind of hidden stash. At first, he’d asked me to literally be his “sniffer dog” and, once I’d refused, he’d given an indignant “who needs ya” before tearing into the damn things like the unrestrained idiot he was. I’d left him there, both unable and not in the mood to try and talk sense into him.

I walked out to the fenced-in section of the courtyard, intent on getting some fresh air, when I spotted Beth, sitting crossed legged on the concrete ground. In front of her was a box, and from the inside of that box, I could hear the senseless cooing sounds of little baby Judith. I hadn’t been game enough to approach her whilst Rick was around, unsure of how he’d react to my proximity to his baby girl, but Rick was nowhere to be seen – at least as far as I could tell – so I began a cautious approach. Carol was nearby, sitting on the steps leading up into another section of the cellblock. She watched me approach Beth with a narrowed, suspicious gaze.

“Hey,” I said softly, announcing my presence to Beth, who had been too enraptured by the book in her lap to notice my approach.

Her eyes, wide and blue, lifted from the pages and fixed on me curiously. Thin, blonde eyebrows pulled down slightly. “Hi. You’re Jack, right?”

“Jacques,” I responded with a little chuckle. “Like, the uh, detective in Pink Panther.”

She blinked up at me, tilting her head the slightest bit as her thin lips pulled down at the corners.

How old was she? Did she not know Pink Panther? Was I old? My God. Twenty-four wasn’t old, right? Right?

I gave her a gentle shake of my head, slowly lowering myself down into a crouch beside her. “No? What about the, um… the shrimp guy from the dentist’s tank in Finding Nemo?”

That made her eyes widen in understanding, her mouth partially opening in an “O” shape before she clucked lightly.

“That’s just my last name, though,” I added, glancing down into the box at Judith. “Le Jacques.”

Her little baby cheeks were so round, so pink. Those eyes, light green in colour, were wide and alert, as if she were listening in on every word. She looked at me for a brief moment and I smiled down at her, which made her face break out into one of those pure baby-grins as she threw her arms about in excitement.

Jesus fuck, I would die for this child.

“What’s your first name?” Beth asked me, leaning in slightly to draw my gaze from Judith.

I glanced at her, still grinning. “Synnove.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Sin-oh-vey.” I shrugged haplessly. “It’s a Norse name. My mum, she was heavy into the whole “my ancestors were Vikings” thing.”

Beth chuckled, nodding. “Oh. It’s pretty.”

I snorted, though gave her a thankful smile as I lowered myself down out of my crouch and into a sitting position. The top of the box cut off my view of the baby inside, but I got a decent look at the side of the cardboard, where someone had written “Lil Ass Kicker” in black marker. I felt my brows scrunch as I looked at it in surprise, coughing out a laugh. Adorable.

“A baby doesn’t get to choose their own name,” I remarked, gesturing to the scrawled black letters on Judith’s box. “If I’d had a choice, I might have picked that.”

Beth laughed. It was a light sound, pure and full of heart, kind of like her singing voice. Had this been a hundred years ago, I didn’t doubt she would be the exact kind of girl that one of my kind would attempt to draw into the shadows, to lure into a ring of mushrooms deep in the silent forest. Thankfully, my kind didn’t do that as often these days, too wound up with their own bullshit to worry about the humans of their neighbouring world.

“Daryl gave it to her,” Beth informed me after a moment.

That made my brows rise slightly as a smile pulled at one side of my mouth. Of course, he had. Why was I not even remotely surprised?

Beth’s own smile began to fade after a moment as she lifted herself partially out of her crossed-legged position to look down at the baby. She reached in with a thin arm, rearranging the blankets within the box with a pursed lipped frown. “Her momma died giving birth to her,” she said softly. “Carl had to – you know. That was before we knew ‘bout Woodbury. One of the prisoners that survived here, he opened the gate and let the walkers in. We all got separated. That was when it happened.”

I gave her a sad look, nodding along with her story as she sunk back down beside me. It had been a cruel world even before the dead had begun to rise. Now, it was almost as if the universe or whatever sicko God was watching over us, purposefully put everyone in the worst position possible just to watch them squirm.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “Sounds like you guys have had a run of bad luck lately.”

Beth bowed her head slightly, blue eyes focusing on her hands where they fidgeted in her lap. “It’s been rough. But we’ll get through. We always do.”

I smiled slightly at that. “I don’t doubt it.”

She glanced up at me, her sad look slowly fading into a smile. It was small and didn’t entirely reach her tired eyes, but it was nice to see, nonetheless.

Everything settled back into silence after that. Carol, who had been partway through cleaning the rifle now resting across her lap, had watched our entire exchange with a keen eye. I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to use that rifle on me if I’d made even the slightest of moves indicating I meant Beth or Judith harm. Something about that woman struck me as… I don’t know. Capable? Alert?

No. I knew what it was.

She was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. So well hidden beneath that wool that even I had stumbled and stuttered before figuring out what she truly was. It was impressive, honestly. Those keen eyes were the only thing that betrayed her. The way they always seemed to be watching, to be turning those little cogs inside her mind, constantly alert. The tell glow of a wolfs eyes in the darkness.

When Carol caught my scrutinising gaze, she straightened her back, her grip on the rifle slipping down slightly as if intent on pulling up and pointing it at me.

I gave her a slow, knowing grin before averting my gaze, pushing myself back up, out of my sitting position. The sound of my booted feet against the concrete was barely noticeable as I made my way back toward the cellblock door. I’d had half a thought to check in on Merle, make sure he hadn’t destroyed every mattress in the cellblock, when I felt my feet come to a sudden halt.

Voices. I could hear them coming from somewhere to my right, down near the end of the cellblock where the brick wall met the beginning of the fence. They were hushed and barely discernible, but I could tell they belonged to Rick, Hershel, and Daryl. With a glance behind me at the two women to make sure neither of them were watching, I began to slink down toward the sounds of conversation. Using the shadows cast by the tall brick building, I remained partially hidden as I approached the yard where Rick, Hershel, and Daryl stood. Silent, tightly pressed against the wall before the corner, I remained out of sight as I listened in to their voices.

“It’s the only way,” Rick was saying, his voice hushed despite the fact no one other than my nosy ass was nearby to listen in. “No one else knows.”

Daryl looked perplexedly back at the man, pursing his lips slightly in thought. His grip on the strap of his crossbow was tight, as if he were using it for a sense of comfort. “You gonna tell ‘em?” he asked.

“Not till after,” Rick responded.

It didn’t take a genius to understand what they were referring to. Rick was planning to hand Michonne and I over after all. I felt a deep sense of anger rise within me, setting my chest alight. My hands curled into fists against the brickwork of the cellblock wall and I had to take a deep breath in order to restrain myself from marching out there. How the hell could he be so stupid? Did he honestly think this was the “only way”? That the Governor wouldn’t kill us and then immediately turn on them? Where was his common sense? His police-y instincts? Why was I the only one thinking rationally here?

“We have to do it today,” Rick continued, glancing between Daryl and Hershel with a steely-eyed resolve. “It has to be quiet.”

Daryl was partially pacing back and forth, looking out to the forest beyond the gate before returning his gaze to Rick. He chewed his bottom lip indecisively for a moment before asking, “You got a plan?”

My upper lip curled up into a snarl. Seriously? Not even Little Dixon was on my side here?

“We tell them both we need to talk,” Rick answered evenly. “Away from the others.”

Daryl shook his head. “Jacques ain’t gonna fall for that. She’s clued in, man.”

Rick’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing at Daryl as his lips pulled tautly down at the corners. “Did you tell her?”

“No,” he answered, sounding a little offended Rick would even ask. “She knows how the douchebag operates. Probably already guessed he’d asked you to hand her over.”

That made Rick pause, a hand lifting up to rub at the scruff along his jaw. He looked to be in deep thought for a moment before meeting Daryl’s gaze with an intensive look. “Would Merle do it? Get her alone? If it were the only way we’d let him stay, would he do it?”

Daryl blinked at him in surprise. It took him a long moment to answer and I wondered exactly what was going through his mind at that moment. The question looked like it disturbed him. “Naw,” he answered plainly. “He ain’t ever been like this with no one. No way he’d give her up to the Governor.”

Rick let out a frustrated sigh, turning on the spot to look out through the fence. “Alright. One at a time, then. Michonne first. Merle will help with her, at least.”

Daryl nodded slightly, though I could see the conflict in his gaze. He didn’t like this. In fact, I was pretty sure he hated it. The idea of giving someone up to save his own life looked as if it made him almost physically ill. He took a series of deep breaths, stepping closer to Rick with a sad look. “This ain’t us, man.”

“No,” Hershel agreed. “It isn’t.”

Rick turned so he could look at the both of them, at such an angle that he was almost directly facing me. I didn’t panic, remaining as still as I could, knowing the distance between us would make it difficult to discern my body through the shadows of the building. It helped that I was wearing all black, of course.

“We do this, we avoid a fight,” he said, sounding as if he actually believed it. “No one else dies.”

That part, he said directly to Daryl. The younger Dixon still looked troubled, as if he wished someone else would say something, give them another option, but he nodded after a moment, realizing that second choice wasn’t going to come.

“Okay,” he breathed. “I’ll talk to Merle.”

“No,” Rick said quickly. “I’ll do it.”

Daryl blinked. “I’ll go with you.”

Rick shook his head. “No. Just me.”

As Rick turned to walk away, back toward the front of the cellblock, I watched Daryl’s face contort into a troubled frown. He and Hershel shared a look, after which the old man shook his head and turned to follow Rick. That left Daryl alone, standing by himself in the empty yard, staring out through the gaps in the wire fence at the forest. Once I was sure Hershel was far enough away that he wouldn’t spot me in his peripherals, I stepped out of the shadows and silently approached the younger Dixon.

One hand lifted to grip the fence, as if he needed it to keep himself steady, the other hand still tightly holding the strap of his crossbow.

He had no idea I was there. Not until I spoke.

“It’s not going to work.”

Daryl almost jumped out of his skin, spinning around so fast one of the arrows on the end of his crossbow caught in the fence. Once he realised it was just me, he let out a huff of air through his nose and looked over his shoulder, prying the arrow free with an irritated yank and stepping away from the fence with a scowl. “Get you a bell or somethin’. Jesus.”

I smirked, amused despite the situation, but it faded quickly as I repeated my initial remark. “It won’t work.”

“What won’t?” he asked, though I could tell by the way he was looking at me through narrowed eyes that he already knew what I was talking about. That I’d been listening.

“Handing Michonne over to the Governor isn’t going to placate him,” I said, matter-of-factly. “Neither of us will.”

Daryl didn’t answer. His gaze dropped to the ground by his booted feet as he chewed the inside of his lower lip.

“He won’t even kill her,” I continued. “You know that, right? Not straight away. He doesn’t function like that. Revenge isn’t a bullet to the head with him. It’s more than that – it’s just as psychological as it is physical. He’ll torture her. Probably take out an eye. Maybe both, just to make a point.”

Daryl swallowed. I watched his Adam’s apple move up and down as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them, only to continue staring at the ground.

“Me? Fuck knows what he’ll do. I have an inkling it’ll involve a set of pliers. Don’t know why – just a feeling.” Whether it would be pliers, a hammer, or a knife, I knew he wouldn’t just put me on my knees and execute me. He needed to hurt me. To hurt Michonne. He needed to make us feel the pain we’d inflicted upon him, righteous or not. It was more than just a simple case of clearing the field. He needed to win. Needed to be on top. To have himself placed on a pedestal for the people of Woodbury that believed he had defeated the enemy, despite the fact, somewhere in that rotted skull of his, he knew we were an enemy he had created.

“I’m sorry,” Daryl breathed after a moment, still not meeting my eye.

I smiled softly, despite myself. He looked like a scolded child. It made my heart ache in my chest. “Don’t stress it,” I responded, waving a hand dismissively. “Rick’s just trying to minimize the bloodshed. I don’t blame him. Or you.”

That made him look up. His brow was furrowed, the muscles in his neck tensed with his deep, troubled frown. Despite the fact he said nothing, I could tell there was some sense of relief inside him. As if my acknowledgement of the lack of blame I regarded him with had set his mind somewhat at ease.

“If this is what you all think is best,” I said softly, looking out to the forest with a small frown. “I’ll go. I won’t fight it. I’ll tell Merle not to, either, and he won’t. But you and Rick both need to understand that this will not amount to anything. The only thing you’ll accomplish here is the removal of two competent fighters from the board. Two that are standing on your side.”

Daryl breathed heavily through his nose, the skin on his forehead wrinkled as he looked back at me with a sad, helpless frown. He swallowed again before nodding, chewing the inside of his lower lip before turning to make his way up the path Rick had disappeared down.

God. How had it come to this so fast? I needed to find Merle. Convince him not to help. To at least attempt to talk some sense into Rick. Lord knew, he wouldn’t do it on his own inclination. That was the way he was. Obeying the orders, doing the dirty jobs with little question. That was how I used to be, too. How had I become the one looking at things from the outside?

[larryland]

by Jenny Hansell

Is there anything sturdier and more resilient than a Gilbert & Sullivan operetta?  There are occasional professional productions of Pirates of Penzance or HMS Pinafore at opera houses and regional theaters, but I’d bet that it’s local amateur companies that have kept the operettas alive for 130 years and counting.

Why so evergreen? G&S shows offer plentiful opportunities for amateur ensembles to sing complex and lovely music, and the lead roles give the best singers in the community a chance to shine, while leaving room for the character actor with limited singing range or two left feet.  Every G&S production I’ve seen (or performed in, with the late lamented Light Opera Company of Salisbury, CT) has a large chorus of simpering maids played by women from their teens through their 80s, and assorted pirates, policeman or “gentlemen of Japan” played by men who may struggle to hit the high notes of their younger days, or remember which order their feet should grapevine, but are as courtly or dastardly as the moment requires. The simple plots, the witty lyrics, the tradition of updating them with current references, and above all the gorgeous music, so much fun to sing and to listen to, has kept the G&S repertory going in communities around the world, with the traditions passed on like folk tales.

The Gondoliers is less well known than the “big three” of Pirates, Pinafore and Mikado, but with its gorgeous score and perfectly silly plot, it deserves to be seen, and the Valley Light Opera is currently mounting a very entertaining production at the Academy of Music in Northampton. With a cast of thousands (not really, but it’s big) and a full orchestra, this community production fills the stage with color.

The plot concerns two penniless but handsome young brothers, gondoliers Marco and Giuseppe. They decide to choose brides from among the assembled village ladies, who fan themselves and faint at the prospect. It turns out that one of them is the heir to the throne in Barataria, but since nobody knows which, they must leave their brides behind and assume the duties of the monarchy together. They are Republicans, however, of the 19th century sort, which means they don’t believe in hierarchies: they help out with the menial duties of the kingdom while treating the Lord High Footman and Lord High Drummer Boy with outsized respect.

Not much else happens until the identity of the true king is revealed: various amusing characters enter, sing a song to explain who they are, and leave again.

Among those are the down-on-their-luck Duke and Duchess of Plaza-Toro, who support themselves by endorsing dubious products, and their daughter Casilda, who was married at birth to the now-incognito prince.  She, however, is secretly in love with Luiz, the one-man ‘suite’ serving her family.

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As the Duke, Jonathan Klate stands out for his authoritative voice and comic timing.  Kathy Blaisdell is a classic G&S mezzo-soprano, carrying off her songs with verve. Elaine Crane as Casilda has a sweet soprano and is very believable as she puzzles over her fate.  Brad Amidon, as Luiz, isn’t the strongest singer but is a terrific comic actor, and plays an 11th-hour twist to the hilt.

The strongest voices on the stage belong to the four young lovers: George Eisenhauer and Christopher Marcus play Marco and Giuseppe as a goofy Mutt-and-Jeff pair.  As Gianetta, Libby Maxey has a glorious operatic voice, though her words are mostly incomprehensible. Luckily there are supertitles projected in the theater (which synced up with what was on stage about 50% of the time.)  Kimaya Diggs was a warm and charming Tessa.

The orchestra, ably led by conductor Aldo Fabrizi, gave some extra bad-guy music to Don Alhambra,  the Grand Inquisitor who stole away the young prince to begin with, and is played with understated menace by Matthew Roehrig.

As with any G&S production, the script was updated with plentiful and very amusing current references, from Bernie bros to pussy hats, Kardashians and #MeToo, to rhyming Ivanka and Sri Lanka, with a little Macarena thrown in. I was waiting for a tie-in with the two brother gondoliers to Don Jr and Eric but sadly it never came.  As someone who always slightly chafed at playing the giggling girl year after year, I particularly appreciated when Tessa’s line, “those two poor Monarchs haven’t got any one to mend their stockings or sew on their buttons or patch their clothes” was interrupted by a chorister adding “or build their buildings or run for office!”  Happily, the script doctors didn’t overload the production with too many such interludes.

The minor roles and ensemble are filled with Pioneer Valley residents, including a paleontologist, a pastor, a dentist, a massage therapist, a climate activist, several teachers and a passel of delightful middle-schoolers who cartwheel, ride mini-gondolas mounted on scooters, and add even more life to the village scenes.  The ensemble as a whole particularly shone on the opening number, List and Learn, and the lively dance interlude, the Cachucha.

The orchestra, almost without exception, played beautifully, though occasionally were much louder than the ensemble, at least where I was sitting near the front. Friends in the middle of the house reported they had no trouble hearing the singers over the instruments.

Seeing this production reminded me that my grandfather, whom I never met, was said to have played Ko-Ko in a community production of the Mikado decades before I was born. I did some strategic Googling and sure enough, found a notice about the production, mentioning him, in the Detroit Free Press from 1935.   May Gilbert & Sullivan be passed down for another 130 years, at least!

Valley Light Opera presents The Gondoliers, music by Sir Arthur Sullivan, lyrics by Sir W.S. Gilbert, directed by Michael O. Budnick. Music Director, Aldo Fabrizi, at the Academy of Music Theatre, 274 Main St, Northampton, MA, November 2-11, 2018. Choreographers: Susan Edwards Dresser & Nicole Newell; Lighting Designer: Mike Freedman; Costume Designer: Laura Green; Props: Kevin Cox; Stage Manager: Achaetey Kabal; Technical Director: Steve Morgan; Set Designer: Steve Riddle.

Cast: Gianetta: Libby Maxey; Tessa: Kimaya Diggs; Fiametta: Donna Griffin; Vittoria: Heather Williams; Giulia: Nicole Newell; Marco Palmieri: George Eisenhauer; Giuseppe Palmieri: Christopher Marcus; Antonio: Robin Parsons; Francesco: Steven Williams; Giorgio: Jeff Erb; Annibale: Ted Fijal; The Duke of Plaza-Toro: Jonathan Klate; The Duchess of Plaza-Toro: Kathy Blaisdell; Casilda: Elaine Crane; Luiz: Brad Amidon; Don Alhambra del Bolero: Matt Roehrig; Inez: Lucy Robinson.  Featured Dancers: Anju Diggs, Kimaya Diggs, Eli Dresser, Ripley Dresser, Donna Griffin, Sophie Kawall, Libby Maxey, Nicole Newell, Talia Sadiq, Heather Williams. Cameos: Young Marco: Eli Dresser, Amory Maxey (alternate); Young Giuseppe: Henry Maxey; Young Gianetta: Ripley Dresser, Sophie Kawall (alternate): Young Tessa: Talia Sadiq. Ensemble: Katherine Benfer, McKenna Cambo, Anju Diggs, Eli Dresser, Ripley Dresser, Anan Eisenstein-Bond, Gary Felder, Gordon Freed (Baptisto Palmieri), Deborah Jacobson, Sophie Kawall, Nina Levin-Pollard (Party Leader), ELysse Link, Amory Maxey, Henry Maxey, Marc McMenamin, David Mix Barrington (The King), Paul Peelle, Amanda Seymour, William Tobey.

The production goes up at the Academy of Music in Northampton November 2, 3, 9 and 10 at 7:30 with matinees November 4 and 11 at 2:00PM. Tickets are available at the Academy of Music box office or at aom.ticketfly.com. The Gondoliers is presented with the generous media sponsorship of New England Public Radio, 88.5 FM and The NEPR News Network.

REVIEW: Valley Light Opera Presents “The Gondoliers” by Jenny Hansell Is there anything sturdier and more resilient than a Gilbert & Sullivan operetta?  There are occasional professional productions of…

[gabriellakirtonblog]

Why Personal Training Is So Much Harder for Female Fitness Pros

Years ago, I had this client. Let’s call her Sara.

As I do with all my clients, and you do with yours, I used my time and energy to develop a plan to help her get results.

Then one day she told me I was wrong. Actually, she told me her husband said I was wrong. My nutrition advice was off base, he’d told her. And he would know. He’d been a bodybuilder once. Thirty years ago.

Inside my head, a little voice was saying, “Um, pardon me?” Out loud, I stammered something about nutrition research having come a long way since then. “Well, okay,” she said. But I could tell she wasn’t convinced.

Over the following weeks, she ignored much of my advice as her husband continued to pick it apart. And guess who she blamed when she didn’t get results. No, not him.

I finally spoke up. “If we’re going to keep training together,” I told her, “you absolutely cannot listen to your husband.”

I explained that ethically, I couldn’t keep taking her money if she was going to disregard my advice. What’s more, her lack of results reflected poorly on me.

I still remember her bewildered look. But after a few moments of paralyzed silence, she agreed. She started following my advice and lost 10 pounds in four weeks.

I wish I could say this was a one-off, but it wasn’t. Over the years — especially early in my career — I’ve dealt with skepticism from both male and female clients.

Fact is, while women have made great strides in the fitness industry, in many ways it’s still a man’s world. And many women trainers feel we must work twice as hard to be taken half as seriously.

I see this in gyms all the time: men “correcting” women’s form (the fitness version of mansplaining), or holding a captive audience while spouting “bro science.” Meanwhile, the women don’t project nearly that level of confidence, even though they should.

As a trainer for 10 years and founder of the Female Trainer Society, I help women grow their fitness businesses. That means finding ways to overcome this challenge, including the following seven steps.

1. Believe in Yourself

Thankfully I haven’t had to deal with this in a long time. Yes, I’m more experienced now. But I’m more confident too. As a result, my clients are more confident in me.

Confidence is key, and it’s something many of us struggle with. I’ve heard unqualified men deliver poor fitness advice with such gusto that it sounds credible. I’ve also heard well-qualified women hedge their good advice, welcoming skepticism.

If you sound like you’re doubting yourself, your clients won’t believe you.

And I get it. Negative thoughts happen. What’s helped me is realizing that those negative thoughts are just that — thoughts. Too often people identify with their thoughts and accept them as truth. But you are not your thoughts. In fact, you can change them.

Try to replace negative thoughts with positive ones (“I am the expert”), or just blow right past them. Swallow those “ums” and “uhs” and “maybes.” Speak boldly.

READ ALSO: “Five Ways to Deal with a Client Who Challenges You”

2. Act Fast

Looking back, I wish I had spoken up to Sara sooner. Instead, I let the problem slide for weeks, and when she failed to see results she blamed me.

She wasn’t wrong. As a trainer, I take 100 percent responsibility for my clients — if they don’t see results, it’s my fault, not theirs.

If you go to the dentist to have a cavity filled and a week later your tooth is in pain, are you to blame? Heck no! The dentist screwed up. That error is on them.

Back then, I didn’t understand this as clearly as I do now. I ignored red flags for too long and wasted both our time.

Speaking up isn’t easy, and despite your instinct, your brain will come up with a million excuses to keep your mouth shut. Entrepreneur Mel Robbins has suggested that if you don’t act on a goal within five seconds, your brain will kill it.

So don’t wait. Remember that speaking up is your responsibility. Your client may not like what she hears at first. But she’ll like it much less a month from now, when she finds out you allowed the problem to persist.

READ ALSO: “Your Client Stopped Getting Good Results. Now What?”

3. Speak from a Place of Care

Women can have a hard time being assertive. That’s partly because assertive women are too often seen as aggressive or hostile. Many of us wrestle with that. We don’t want to be seen as bossy, but we do want to be respected.

Luckily, I have a solution: Pretend your client is your grandmother. This is how I talk to all my clients. It helps me stay calm, patient, and polite.

If Grandma questions your advice, you don’t respond in anger. You calmly explain how and why it’s going to benefit her in terms she understands. You tell her you care about her and want her to achieve her goals.

This helps me strike an empathetic yet professional tone. It’s the difference between trying to get your way and trying to get results for your client. One turns people off; the other gets them to listen.

You might say something like,

“I’m asking you to do things differently from what you’ve done in the past. Let’s just try this for two weeks, and if it doesn’t work we can talk about how to change it.”

Remind your client that you want the best for her. Speak from a place of care and appreciation, and your client will respect that.

4. Mention the Money

No one wants to be ripped off. When you point out that your client is wasting money by ignoring your advice, you’ll get her attention.

Acknowledge that while your advice may contradict what she’s tried in the past, those strategies haven’t worked. That’s why she hired you.

Say something like,

“You’re paying me for a service. You deserve results, and this is how you’re going to get them.”

Most clients will appreciate the honesty. You’re basically telling them you’re not interested in just taking their money. You want to help them see results.

5. Don’t Be Afraid to Lose a Client

Maybe you fear you’ll upset your client and she’ll leave you. That rarely happens, in my experience. But even if it does, trust me, it’s for the best.

I once had a client who refused to follow her program and complained on social media that she wasn’t seeing results. I told her, “I don’t think you’re ready to make this change. I’m going to discontinue your contract. And when you’re ready, you can come back.”

I invest a lot of time and mental energy in my clients. When one of them isn’t cooperating, that’s wasted effort I could be spending on someone else.

Sure, you may take a hit of a couple hundred bucks. But don’t think of it as losing a client. Think of it as making space for a great new client, someone who’s worth the investment you make in her success.

READ ALSO: “Five Lessons from 10 Years of Personal Training”

6. Go Ahead and Brag 

When Sara finally started following my advice and seeing results, you better believe I didn’t let that slide by unnoticed.

I like to keep it playful by saying something like, “I don’t want to say I told you so, but I told you so.” Generally, people react with a laugh and “I know, I know.”

But it’s important to acknowledge accomplishments, and that’s something else women aren’t always great at doing for fear of appearing boastful.

Women are socialized to stay small, to not take up space. But if you look at the women who are dominating the market, they’re the ones who are taking up the space. They’re saying, “Move over! Let me in!” They’re standing up for themselves and not afraid to make waves.

So I say, don’t shy away from your accomplishments. Highlight them!

7. Help a Sister Out

To all the male trainers out there, if you see a female colleague being disrespected, here’s your script: Walk up and say, “Hey, she really knows her stuff. You should listen to her.”

This is why testimonials work. When real people speak up and show they trust you, it establishes credibility. It’s an easy way for you to help out a colleague, and a subtle move toward greater gender equality in fitness. That’s good for everyone.

Want to Ignite Your Personal Training Career?

Ready to take control of your career? Looking to improve your business mindset, client engagement style, and self-promotion techniques? You’ll find all that and more in Ignite the Fire by Jonathan Goodman, a book that gives you a clear road map to building your career from the bottom up, helping you grow your clientele, your status, and your income.

In this book, you’ll learn how to:

Build your confidence to tackle the job head-on and come out on top (p. 16)

Find, market to, and sell your ideal client while seamlessly dealing with objections (p. 64)

Create amazing workouts for beginners (p. 124)

Deal with the 10 most common difficult client types (p. 160)

Develop multiple income streams without compromising your reputation (p. 202)

–> Don’t delay. Buy your copy of Ignite today!

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