#(also also yes i used to smoke and yes i've quit and yes it's awful for your health)

[somethingblu3]

The Discovery Of Love (Chapter 1) | Quinten Quist

Read on Ao3 here

18+ minors dni.

Masterlist | The Discovery Of Love Masterlist

Fandom: The Discovery Of Heaven, De ontdekking van de hemel

Summary:

When Onno discovers you and Quinten childhood best friends are Soulmates he's over the moon Max not so much. Max is terrified at the thought of his possible son being in a relationship with his best friend's daughter while he's in denial that you and Quinten have been seeing each other for months. You both try and keep it under wraps but you both know it's only a matter of time before someone finds out the truth.

TW: secret Relationship, Virgin Quinten, the birds and the bees Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Healing, Healing Soulmates, Canon Divergence,Alternate Universe,POV Second Person, Forbidden Love possible incest

Pairing: Quinten Quist x Female Reader, Quinten Quist x Afab Reader

Word Count: 2,801 (Finally wrote something over 1K! for once)

Graphic Credit: @keep-it-light

Note:

Lightly edited. To be clear i've aged Quintin up to 19 years old. Max's daughter is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns. Also I hope the formatting is alright tumblr's sucks.

Onno Quist figured that at one point in his life he would have to tell his young and innocent virgin son about sex but today would not be that day. Quinten seemed far more interested in architecture than girls that was until he finally noticed you Max’s daughter. At first Onno was taken aback by his growing attraction but as he observed his son it seemed like a match made in heaven in Onno’s eyes at least. Max seemed totally against the idea when Onno brought it up one winter evening over dinner. As he spoke and dug into his turkey Onno’s eyes were fixated on Quintin and you outside in the snow Quinten with his nose stuck in a book of course and you were showering for bugs to add to your collection butterflies especially seemed to be of your most recent hyper-fixation.

It was sweet watching you two bond even if Quinten did seem vaguely disinterested at first that was until he finally looked up from a page in his book bookmarked between two fingers and watched in awe as you bent over to collect a wounded butterfly and shove it into a clear jar.

Onno grunted at the sight. What kind of partnership would you two be, he wondered. Obviously, it's less complicated than his own with Ada. Max was intelligent of course funny and affectionate, and he had been Onno’s best friend for decades, but Onno did find it odd that he knew nothing of the Mother.

“So she just abandoned a baby on your doorstep?” Too interrupts what must have been Max’s hundredth argument on why you and Quinten being together would be a terrible idea.

“Yes, that’s right. Just a name tag I hardly remember the women a one night stand” He recounts.“And so, how did you know she was yours?” Onno inquired. Max paused as he cleansed his pallet with a sip of wine.

“She was a virgin. Part of the deal was that I would make her night the most memorable of all, so in return, she would heal my Emphysema.” Onno nods. “Seems like a fair deal. You really need to quit the smoking though why don’t you give those patches a try? I think they even make gum now.”

“Gum? Have you ever seen a guy my age chewing gum?” Max scoffs. Onno drops the subject these days Max was careless about his health he had gained some weight and he was getting weaker even you had started to notice. You and Quinten were always out running around in the garden either chasing after the dogs of each other.

“Their not”“I never said they were.”“You're reading too much into it like you always do.”“Nonsense” Onno frowned as he rested his chin on his hand “Look at them! Don’t they remind you of someone?” Onno hums as he raises his brow subtly.“I have no idea who you are talking about”, Max rebuttalsOnno rolls his eyes.

“You and Ada, of course,” Onno coos. “You were head over heels in love with her, practically drooling over her when you first laid eyes on her in that bookshop”, Onno remarks. “Was not?” Max says defensively, “Why deny it? Onno probes

“Does it matter if they’re soulmates or not?”Onno scoffs “When did Max Delius loose interest in daughter’s soulmate?” Onno scoffed; he couldn’t believe it. What was the big deal? Before they had met Ada in that bookshop, all they used to pound over was Soulmates, other than science and philosophy.“Since her Soulmate was Quinten Quist”, Max snaps. He knew it. He bloody knew It.

“You thought he wasn’t.”

“I was wrong.”

“When did you discover?” Onno asks curiously, his complete focus on Max and Max alone.“Last Summer. Quinten spent most of his days in the lawn chair reading he had a nasty sunburn didn’t you notice? He was red like a chilli pepper, and then she touched him, and he was back to his normal pale self. Not only that there was a time when Quinten burned himself with a hot glue gun when he was trying to make a replica of a building she touched his finger, and it healed in a matter of minutes no burning sensation” Max recounted.

“Those could just be a matter of coincidences”, Onno suggested. “Just like us.”“No not like that” Max says shaking his head.“There was another incident one that I hadn’t told you about” max says he pauses as if he’s trying to collect himself. “Which incident?”

“We went out to the lake one hot evening teaching Quinten how to sail, if you remember. Well one night he fell into the water. We were both horrified we though something terrible had happened to him he could have died or he could have experienced head trauma. Luckily, I managed to swim in and save him. When I rescued him onto a nearby dock, she kissed him, and he was perfectly fine.

“You never told me” Onno.Max shrugs lightly. “I didn’t want to worry you about everything going on with Ada; besides, Quinten was fine. She healed him, kissed him, and he woke up; his bruises faded away, and his concussion was gone”, Max explained.“She kissed him?” Onno asks, taken aback, his eyes wide“Yes. She was attempting CPR,” clarified Max“And after the kiss, what happened?”“We went home. They didn’t say anything to each other. Quinten stormed off to his room; he was in such a state,” Max recounted“He was angry? About the kiss?”“He broke one of his plane models on purpose.”

Onno’s eyes flickered back to the two of you in the garden. Quinten’s eyes hadn’t returned to his book yet his lapis lazuli eyes where completely transfixed on you as you show him the little creature you had just added to your collection for once he seemed actually interested in the insect as you shovel it into the palm of his hands. Quinten never liked dirt, but Onno figured he would make an acceptation for you.

“He must have forgiven her then” Onno observes himMax turns in his chair as he watches the two of you giggling.

“Yes he must have” He obverses. You were getting to close for Max’s liking he couldn’t have you two together certainly not as soulmates you were both already best friends, inseparable since birth. Now that you were both adults, it would be merely impossible to keep the two of you apart. It would be only a matter of time before you two begin to act on your feelings and become intimate; it was a topic that made Max feel sick to his stomach the thought of his daughter being with his best friend’s son in that way, just like he was with Ada.

He could remember It like It was yesterday being so young and in love tangled in each other he had never seen such an obvious pairing than to two.

“You’ve had the talk with him, I presume?”Onno looks up perplexed he’s already devouring the pudding the table was still completely covered in food you and Quinten had barely touched your supper.“About Soulmates? Yes, he’s always known they exist. I’ve never shied away from that.”

“No, not Soulmates. Sex. I would prefer it for your son not to knock up my daughter, especially as she has just turned eighteen. Her mother would have a heart attack.”

“And you wouldn’t.”

“You know what I mean,” Max says as he sucks on his bottom lip. “When are you going to tell him?” Max probes, “Tonight. That is my plan if things go accordingly.”Max hums.

“I’m sure it’ll go down well. Remember the time you told him Pluto was a planet?”“He was devastated and didn’t talk to me for weeks”, Onno reflects.

“And how do you think he’ll react to learning that babies don’t come from Stalks?” Max inquires Onno groans he had high hopes before but Max’s comments were enough to diminish his attempts.

“Alright then I think we best be going” Max announces as he gets up. You and Quentin must have been out there for hours you must have been freezing cold Onno pulled Max by the wrist of his suit.“Huh?” Max murmurs

“Wait” Onno instructs him firmly his eyes still on you and Quinten in the garden.

As you take the butterfly back from his hands, Quinten jerks his hand away immediately. He kisses his finger as if he had been bitten but still seems to be in pain. You then murmur a few words to him barely audible through the glass door he then seemingly stretches out his finger, and you kiss it.“There's your proof right there”, Onno comments.“I knew they were I just didn't want to admit it to you” Max reveals. “The thought of them..”

“Is it just because he's my son?” Onno asks, “No, not just because of that...”

“Then why?” Onno prods. Max sighs as if he's trying to compose himself, but then he catches his wristwatch in the corner of his eye.“It's getting late; thank you for having us.”

“Why won't you answer my question?”

“It's not important” Max shrugs Onno doesn't by it something's off.“Would you like the rest of the food wrapped up then?” Onno asks as he stares down at the full table; he can hear you giggling from outside as Max opens the door.

“That would be nice” He comments his eyes still transfixed on his daughter.“My Ladybug it's time for us to go” Max announces he's clearly caught you and Quintin of guard sharing a moment as you stare into his bright sparkling Lapis lazuli eyes.“But Father” You groan can I stay for a few more hours? I want to see Quintin's train set.” Max rolls his eyes “No” he says firmly. “You have your exams next week to prepare for.”

“Aw fine” You groan as you shove the jar into your satchel Onno grins.“Did you catch a good one?” Onno asks “A Saddleback”, You announce joyfully “I'm sure Quentin will be researching it later” Onno comments “Not after the thing bit me.”

 “It wasn't a spine it was a bite and It only did that because you almost crushed it with your big hands!” That comment earns you a smack from Quentin. You hiss and Max glares at him “Enough we'll be going” Max says as he takes the tin foiled wrapped food from Onno and they walk down the hallway.“Goodnight,” Onno says as he closes the door

“Good luck”, Max whispers“I'll need more than that”, Onno remarks as he reaches for the bottle of wine.*******“What did you want to talk to me about, Father?” Quinten approaches him with a book in his hand about the history of butterflies. Perfect, Onno thinks.“I wanted to talk to you about something important” Onno starts Quentin doesn't look up from him as he sits at the table; he is completely immersed in the book's pages.“Is it about Mother?” He asks, “No”, Onno replies.

“It's about something more serious.” This finally makes him look up and push the book away from him.

“Alright then, what is it about? Quinten wonders.“You know how we've always told you that stalks deliver babies?” “Yes”,Quinten confirms.“Well, that's not entirely the case.”“So you lied to me?” Inquires Quinten“I wouldn't say lied more bent the truth.”

“Why?” Quinten asks his Father curiously Onno takes a breath wishing he had taken a sip of the wine instead but it was too early he had to man up and get this over with.“Quinten. As you know, a man falls in love a woman sometimes they are soulmates sometimes they are not when they are though they can heal each other's wounds, emotional or physical.”

“I already know this, Father” Quinten buts in“I know but let me get to the point” Onno stresses “When they fall in love they might decide to have a baby but the stalk doesn't deliver it the stalk doesn't exist so get that story out of your mind. To have a baby, the couple they procreate...As in, they have sex.”

“Sex?” Quinten repeats, “Sex, yes.”

“And what's that?” Onno sighs yet he reists the wine “It's a partnership between two people someotimes to produce a child sometimes just to have fun and produce hormones” Onno tries to explain in a way Quinten would understand.

“And why are you telling me about this, Father?” Quinten asks him, seemingly not phased yet.

“Well, I've noticed how close you and Max's daughter have been getting recently, and I wondered if you were both...intimate.” “Why would you want to know that?” Asks Quinten

“Well if you were I would like to know that you where both beeing safe. If not, you could risk her getting pregnant, and Max wouldn't be too happy about that,” Onno remarks.

“But aren't babies a blessing?” Quinten questions. “They are, but not everyone wants one or can have one, and I thought I would make sure that if you two were together, that you were both safe.”“Well, we're not”, Quinten announces. “Good”

“But we're soulmates, aren't we? You saw the way that butterfly bit me...spited me,” Quinten recounts “I did...Max told me about the sailing incident:” Onno reveals“He did?” Quinten asks defeatedly 

“Why were you angry? You would be lucky to have that girl as your soulmate she seems like the perfect match she's intelligent, curious quirky and wise like you” Onno observes.“You would think” Quinten sighs “But I guess...i was scared I didn't want to ruin anything between us as friends” He reveals.

“Oh well, that is very respectable, Quint”

“Please don't call me that, Daddy. I'm not five years old anymore”, Quinten groans.“Oh well, very well. I'm just glad that you and her are just friends.

*******

“Oh fuck!” You pant as Quinten thrusts himself deeper into you. He had to keep you quiet. The palm of his hand was wrapped around your mouth as he rutted inside you in The Greenhouse.“We can't let them hear us”, Quinten reminds “Slow down!” You reprehend him. Since you had become intimate over the past few months, Quinten was like a wild animal in a heat and seemed to show no signs of slowing down.

You didn't mind of course, it was a nice distraction and a nice stress relief but it would be nice for you two to spend time together without the sex for once no matter how mind blowing it truly was.

You groaned as you came down from your orgasm and you prayed it was your last your legs were shaky as you held onto one of the plant pots for your life. Quinten held your waist firmly and you felt a mix of your and his cum dripping between your legs luckily the aroma was easily hidden by the musk of the plants. Quinten buries his lips into the back of your head. Seemingly satisfied, you watch his reflection in the window's glass.

“You told him we weren't seeing each other, right?” You ask “Of course” Quinten replies as he steps away and helps you get dressed picking your torn skirt from the floor.

“Do you think he bought it?” You ask him curiously Quinten had to be smart about this Onno Quist was a very smart man much like Quinten.“I think so,” He recalls.

“Although I don't think this tear in your skirt is going to help much” He comments and a grin spreads across his lips.“I hate you”, You murmur rolling your eyes.

“That's not what you were crying out a few moments ago.”You hit him just like he did on Christmas. You watch him as he leans closer, parting his lips and pushing your hair behind your ear.

“We probably shouldn't see each other for a while just so they don't catch on. Why don't we stage a fight?” He asks, cupping your cheek. Lost in his Lapis lazuli eyes, you didn't have much room to think this through.“Okay,” You tell him. He was about to lean in and kiss you, but then there was a knock on the greenhouse door.

“Darling,” Max calls. “You should be studying.”“Alright fine Father” You reply. You give Quinten a small nod as you leave, but he feels Max's eyes on him. You both had to sell this fight you couldn't risk his Father and Max finding out you where sleeping with each other behind their backs may as well have fun with it Quinten thought as he watched you leave.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

YES! BPP! YES! I KNEW YOU'D SHARE MY EXCITEMENT!!!! I don't know anyone in real life who is an army and shares my love for BTS' music and story, so it's so awesome to see a fellow enthusiast gush over such a stellar magnificent artist!!! Yoongi looks so in the zone on the stage. Like he can finally breathe again, like he has found himself again, like he is finding the meaning of his life over and over again. He looks so at home. It's mind boggling how at ease he is in front of 15k(?) ppl?? +

*

Ask 2: His command of the stage, much less the audience and his music, is impeccable. "Electric" is definitely the word for it. I mean how does he look more relaxed here than his variety/advertisement gigs!? The word natural comes to my mind but I know that's not quite it. It's like how gravity works, like how water flows. He just is. With his music. And I'm just in awe watching him, and thankful. Every time I look at them perform their music, my worry kinda vanishes and it's unbelievably addicting. +

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Ask 3: Sorry! I thought I was done but I wasn't!!! Did you know that this is the VERY FIRST MINIMINI LIVE TOGETHER EVER!?!?@! Like what?!? But you know what that's ok cuz they were hilarious and lovely and made me so happy! lol Don't worry tannies, I'm confused about barking thingy, too. haha. Also did you see the crowd control wristband and the arena lightning colors (prudential was awful tho, UBS ftw!!)?? It has to be intentional, right? Along with that rainbow cake, everything is just chef's kiss

*

Ask 4: BPP, pretty pretty please can you try to describe Yoongi's music? What does he sound like to you?

***

Hi Anon(s),

Yoongi's music sounds like nothing I've heard anywhere else. Nobody, past or present, sounds like Yoongi.

But if I were to make a rough approximation, I'd say his sound is something close to if Hans Zimmer, Jimi Hendrix, Pop Smoke, and Andre 3000 had a four-way, with Eminem directing and filming the whole affair. The product of whatever that is, is kinda close to Yoongi's core soundscape. In my opinion. Yoongi too, more than any other member, loves infusing Korean texture, sounds, and proverbs, into his music and it’s something I really can’t get enough of. In terms of lyrical focus, he's similar to Kendrick Lamar, Lupe Fiasco, and Tablo. Also, from the way Yoongi makes music, you can tell that he plays musical instruments. Yoongi's songs are some of the most fun to play on guitar or keyboard/piano. If any of my followers play guitar, I'd like y'all to actually let me know if you've tried playing Amygdala, and tell me how you felt playing it. (You can DM me if you like.) The music Yoongi makes is angst, it's unapologetically emo, and I'm an emo girl who refuses to outgrow this phase. He makes music for people like me. People who want to scream "burn it!" on the disgusting beat he crafted from scratch. Yoongi makes music for carpenters, sluts, philosophers, queers, parents, rebels, misfits, for anybody who finds themselves caring too much about the world around them, and those who sometimes struggle to know themselves.

I'm just going to stop here because I can't do this. Writing about him is hard.

Let's just talk about how hot he is instead. :)

(Even his scars are pretty)

*

(…he deadass looks like that. In real life.)

*

(Yoongi’s vocal inflections fuck me up. By the way. He reveals what he is, every time he uses his tone to make his point. He reveals just how insane he is every time he does that. It drives me mad.)

*

(He likes to be tied and spanked fyi. He’s recently taken to pouting a lot too. And now barking apparently gets him excited. Any way you look at it, he’s trouble.)

*

(Yoongi is so beautiful.)

*

(Pretty)

*

(Cute)

*

Anon in ask 3, Yoonmin’s live was the cutest, sweetest, most wholesome and queer interaction I’d seen from the tannies in a good while. I love what they have. Jikook is jikook, but I mean, I actually bias Yoongi. Seeing how he is with Jimin, how he’s always been with Jimin, is impossible for me to ignore. It’s one reason I started paying attention to Jimin in the first place. Anyway, everything about their conversation - the way Yoongi introduced him, the Tony Montana sneak, their mutual barking, the smiles, jokes and stares, the cutting sarcasm and bickering rallies - I’d missed seeing that and I’m glad they shared that moment with us.

I’m really hoping Yoongi is able to keep his health up the whole tour. He goes all out 100% every time he’s on stage, and that would put a strain on even the most fit person alive. His shoulder surgery was ~3 years ago yeah, but he likely still does physical therapy, and excessive use during the tour could strain it again. My hope is for him to be healthy the whole time. And ARMYs who always show up for BTS, being there to be the energy he needs. He deserves all the support he gets.

[emotionalsupportbastardmen]

Round one of the Bastard Man (affectionate) championshionships is complete!

Let's take a moment to appreciate everyone who got knocked out in round one, and everything I like about them.

Mammon (Obey Me)

Mammon the love of my life Mammon. </3 Yes he's a demon, yes he's the avatar of greed, yes he's "the scummy brother", but with a heart of gold, deep down inside. Very deep down. Plus he's funny and secretly sensitive and he likes to cuddle. <3 I'm honestly shocked he got knocked out in round one, I always thought he was quite a tumblr darling.

Hercule Flambeau (Father Brown)

Everyone loves a gentleman thief, don't they? Especially one with a homoerotic relationship with his narrative foil? A master of disguise? A secret sadboy with a tragic backstory? A man who broke out of prison? World's sluttiest absent father? When will your man ever.

Inspector Mallory (Father Brown)

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA. He's such a funny character. Little angry northern bastard man. He's awful, and should be easy to hate, but he just suffers so often and suffers so beautifully, you can't help but root for him to win, just once. And he loves his kids! A short king and a DILF.

James E. Negatus (Yonderland)

Listen. Listen. I could never love anyone like I love Negatus. He occupies a special and unique part of my heart just for him. He's babygirl. He's daddy. He's cringefail. He's badass. He's gender. He's really really kinky. I cannot understate this, this is the fetish fuel show and it's like 70% his fault. He's on a mission to kill the hero but he's also sort of in love with her. I'm never not going to go feral for that. He has a tragic backstory and a softness for small children and small animals. He's canonically committed multiple warcrimes, several murders, and also demon-genocide. He's done nothing wrong ever in his life <3

Louis Fairhead (Casualty)

My sweet prince when will he return from war? It's been so long since the show ever even so much as acknowledged him. He wasn't even at his own father's wedding to a woman Louis was practically part-raised by. I think he's fallen into a crack in space and time. Anyway I love Louis. I don't even think he's a bad guy. He's had the most traumatic life imaginable. His mother died in a car accident while he was in the car. He got kidnapped once. One time he nearly got blown up. This was all before he was ten. Then as a teenager he became a drug addict. And as a young adult he had a heroin overdose. I think he's within his rights to be an angry and emotionally distant man. I would defend him to the death. I just want him to be safe and happy and healthy. Feel like pure shit just want him back.

Aristide Valentin (the Father Brown books)

First of all Aristide Valentin did nothing wrong so jot that down. YES he committed murder. But he murdered a Catholic pro-guillotine billionaire so it barely counts. He also stole human remains but this is tumblr, we're used to that. He's a skilled swordsman with a vast sword collection which is just the sexiest thing imaginable. YES he's rude to everyone but you don't UNDERSTAND, he's a genius surrounded by idiots, he gets frustrated. Also he's Parisian, they're just like that I think, he can't help it. Honestly his only real crime is smoking while on the underground platform at Liverpool Street station. That's unforgivable.

Barclay Beg-Chetwynde (BBC Ghosts)

Honestly one of the funniest characters in the show, I don't even care. Every episode he's in is a delight. Every single line delivery is so deliciously bastardly. And he makes a brilliant foil to my two favourite characters, Julian and Alison. He's great.

B.Z. (Santa Claus The Movie)

I love this movie. I love this movie a lot. I've watched it at least twice a year every year since I was a toddler. Often more. I could quote the whole film by heart. And my guy B.Z. is by far the most quotable character. Highlight of the whole film. Every single line of his lives rent free in my head. He has beef with Santa Claus for literally no good reason. He chained up a child for even less good reason. He invented Christmas 2. He exited the movie by eating too many magic flying lollypops and floating away into the stratosphere. Utterly unhinged from first scene to last. Literally no-one could ever compare.

Kerr Avon (Blakes 7)

Ah, Avon. I was obsessed with him as an edgy teen. I think in many ways he is the edgy teen appeal character of his genre. He's like the Shadow the Hedgehog of dystopian sci-fi. I mean this as a sincere complement. And he's once again by far the most quotable character in the show. I feel like that's a very important factor for a good bastard man. Quotability.

I won't say I could fix him, because I don't think anyone could. But I wish someone could.

Cat (Red Dwarf)

My sweet underappreciated boy. In many shows he would be the beloved bastard man. It's not his fault he shares a show with Arnold Rimmer, and you simply can't outdo the do-er.

But everything he does, he does it in ~ style ~

Randal Graves (Clerks)

This character means such a lot to me. He's the worst, of course. He sucks. You wouldn't want to know someone like that in real life. But that's part of what's so tragic about him. He's already resigned himself to the fact he's an unlikeable asshole loser, and has long since given up even trying to make new friends, and now he's a deeply lonely weirdo trapped in a toxic co-dependant relationship with the only real friend he has, who he's simultaneously obsessed with and sort of in love with (no homo) (maybe homo) and would die for, but also treats terribly. He's just such a sad odd man. I think about him often.

Ray Carling (Life on Mars/Ashes to Ashes)

Ray my best friend Ray. Yes okay so he's wildly homophobic and misogynistic, but like. Underneath that he's a very sweet and compassionate man, I promise. He's just trapped under the crushing weight of insecurity and self-loathing and societal expectations of masculinity. His backstory is heartbreaking. Absolutely devastating. I won't go into details because spoilers but Jesus Christ. He's the world's number one most single man, being the only one left not paired up out of the seven main characters across both shows, which hardly seems fair. He deserves a nice love interest I think. Give him a nice girlfriend, or lean into the "Ray is suffering from internalised homophobia" implications that Ashes to Ashes leant into occasionally and give him a nice boyfriend if you want, I don't care which, just give him someone.

Mentally I am holding his hand and buying him a pint right now.

Julian Cantley (literally one single episode of Heartbeat)

Choo choo, all aboard the brainrot express. Get in loser we're forming deep emotional attachments to characters with like 20 minutes total screentime. Anyway I'm obsessed with him right now. It's disrupting my drive to create content for characters with actual fanbases because I just keep thinking about Brooding Spy Man Whomst Only I Care About instead. He's just so quiet and angry and brooding. I have so many headcanons for him. I've even headcanoned what his entire flat back in London looks like. Send help.

Ryan Reeves (The Dumping Ground)

Ah he's just a baby. Just a little guy. Who could stay mad at him. Yes the way he'd learn his lesson only to go back to being evil again 2 episodes later got frustrating, but like. He loves his sister and he rescued Harry and Finn. He's not all bad. Apart from when he's being a teenage supervillain lurking in the shadows for no reason. But it's all because he's SAD, you don't UNDERSTAND,

Michael Doyle (Grange Hill)

Look. He stopped being racist after he turned like 13, okay? He just became a petty criminal and politically corrupt instead. And his dad sucks, his dad says worse stuff than Mickey ever did, he was clearly just parroting his dad when he was wee. And there's something so sad and lonely about him. The way he always tries to join in with the group only get pushed out because everyone finds him unbelievably awful. The way he so wants to be Alan's friend. The way he only has the two friends he's got because he pays them to be his friend. Poor little guy. I have to believe he got it together eventually. I have to believe him and Justin were pals by the time they went to sixth form together. I have to.

Ralph Passmore (Tucker's Luck)

It's Mr Passmore! He means such a lot to me. I'm so happy they started portraying him sympathetically in series 2 because honestly? His rage is so justified. He's unemployed and he's already been cast aside as unemployable. His family have already given him up as a lost cause. His only friend and ally in his family is his younger sister, who ends up leaving home to get away from how verbally abusive their parents are. He drinks to cope and joins a gang for the companionship. He finally gets a job after years of unemployment but finds out it's exploiting vulnerable fellow working class people in his community so he angrily and aggressively quits, after befriending and supporting an old lady. What a king.

[kimhargreeves]

Wisteria-Quifrey x Reader (Witch Hat Atelier)

Summary: You are a witch without the need of an atelier. You arrive at a small shop meeting a young girl known as Coco and reunite with Quifrey the witch, someone who was once dear to you.

(This is chapter 1 to a Witch Hat Atelier book I am doing on my Wattpad by the same name as the title. It is an oc x Quifrey, unlike here I did it Reader instead of an oc because we need more Quifrey content.)

Is an Athlete always an Athlete even from birth? What about Astronauts? or Pop stars? You can't know what you're going to be until you grow up, right? So what what about witches, Is it the same for them?

You simply can't become just a witch, many years of training goes into it and hard work. I have been a witch for many years and was one of the best at it, met many friends and rivals along the way but continued my way to explore and help people in need.

Magic is everywhere if if regular people can't see it…

"Will you be needing three sheets of each of these colors, Miss?"

I was interrupted by my thoughts when the lady in charge of this small business came back with rolls of cloth, black and lilac colors.

I smiled through my scarf which I had kept so my face can remain hidden and nodded my head. "Yes, and on second though can I also get a few of the measurements but for a silver color sheet?"

"Right on it ma'm." The older woman smiled and quickly came back with the other colored sheet and began to take the measurements and carefully began to cut it down.

My brown eyes stared down at the woman easily doing her work, though our concentration on it was interrupted when we heard something land near her home.

Three women from what appears to be very high class entered the shop along with some kids. Thing is I hadn't sensed someone else in here with us…

"Mom! Mom! Look outside!" I heard the voice of a girl coming from upstairs. "Mom, where are you?" The voice of the girl was now clear when she arrived.

She seemed familiar. The girl was of short stature compared to me, pale skin and pale lime colored hair.

"Whoa there." Said a gentle voice coming from a man..but that man…

The girl quickly stepped out and apologized looking up at him, "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't realize you were there."

Neither did I…I glanced back and my eyes widened a bit when I saw him. Quifrey the witch. The tall white haired man smiled down at the girl.

"That's all right. It's my fault for standing by the door. Seems I've come at a busy time." I heard him say. I adjusted my scarf and remained silent.

The royalty looking women remained ecstatic at the many cloths, embroidery and laces. "Bringing the carriage here was a good idea after all."

I heard the girl gasp in excitement as she held her hands together in awe. "They're the ones who came here on the pegasus carriage!" The girl looked to her side at the man.

"Hm? Oh, no I'm not with them…you can stop looking at me like that."

The owner of the small shop was busy attending the rich clients first, i don't blame her if she wants their money. "Coco! Can you give me a hand?" The woman's said staring at her daughter with her hand full.

"And you, sir? What can we help you with?"

"I need a length of smoke colored cloth, but I can come back if you're busy."

"I can cut that for you." The girl known as Coco said."

"Coco knows her stuff." Her mother replied

"Is that so?"

"She's one of the best. But, dear can you help with our other client first. Poor thing has been waiting for her final cuts." Her mother said referring to me.

"Right on it!" The girl said running close to my side and beginning to take measurements again. "Mom, but when I'm done can I go see the carriage?" The girl insisted until her mother agreed.

Coco eagerly began to measure and cut away at the clothes. I shivered when I hadn't realized that Quifrey was now standing close to me. Why did he standing so close?!

"Quite the concentration and steady hands, too. A perfect cut. I had no idea this village was home to such an artisan. This is real magic." He said when Coco rolled up my now thinly cut materials.

"Whoa, whoa! You've got it all wrong! Magic's all sparkly and mysterious and wonderful and.. beautiful and precios." The girl hid her face embarrassed.

I noticed Quifrey smile at the girl. "It would appear you are quite fond of magic. Might I inquire as to why?" He asked.

Coco began to tell her fascination about magic. When she was a girl, her mother took her to a festival at the castle, there she met s mysterious figure her offered to sell her a book about magic.

I furrowed my eyebrows together. A mysterious man?? Maybe he is…

"And ever since then I've just liked watching it, I guess. I couldn't stop hoping that I might be a witch."

I noticed Quifrey not deeply concentrated and looking back at Coco. If you don't mind perhaps you could tell me more as-"

A loud loud was heard from the outside. Everyone ran to the window to see the carriage outside broken. We watched Coco was the first to run outside along with the three ladies who came from the carriage.

"Seems like it needs a lot of work." I heard Quifrey tell me when it was just the two of us remaining inside of the home. He smiled turning to look at me, "It's been a while Amelia."

I stared at him wide eyed and my expression softened a bit when I continued to look at him. So he knew it was me all along. Damn it. I reached to lower my scarf and was now fully face to face with him.

"Certainly it has." I spoke coldly but saw him still smiling. "I may need some assistance in this. Want to join me?" He asked offering his hand which I declined.

"No thanks. I have work to do and I'm already late." I took my cloths and placed some extra money on the table.

I began to walk outside and stopped to glance back at Quifrey. "It was..nice seeing you again." I said glaring at him a bit and I began to leave.

As I continued to walk away I heard everyone behind me running to the carriage and talking about who would be able to fix it. Quifrey will for certain make a nice job at it. I huffed at myself and began to walk away with no where in mind.

I had set camp near the woods, it was getting hard trying to find some sleep. Seeing Quifrey again has been playing with my mind, thing's didn't end well for us, it's the reason why I quickly left the shop since I didn't know exactly what to say to him.

He's been running through my mind but not only him, the little girl known as Coco said about a mysterious man in a mask. I think it might be the same person Quifrey mentioned many months ago before I left.

Sitting back up I stared up at the sky then back at the path I had come from. I furrowed my eyebrows and sensed how tense the air had become, it was too quiet despite the wind blowing.

I waved my hand out and placed the fire out. I grabbed my belongings and began to run back to where I was earlier. I wasn't far away from it so I ran quickly when I noticed some part of the roof missing, I ran closer and saw Coco's mother outside but frozen.

What the hell happened here?

"What did you draw, Coco?! What kind of magic did you draw?!!"

I looked up at the sky and saw Quifrey holding Coco. I jumped up in the air and easily made it up to Quifrey's side.

"Quifrey! Coco! What happened?!" I ask concerned when I saw the girl crying in his arms.

Quifrey turned to look at me surprised still seemed very angry, an expression it was rare for me to see him. Coco turned to look at us and seemed confused by all of this.

"I..I don't know! I just traced one of the patterns in the book and.."

"Is the book still inside?" I ask her. Coco nods once and looked down, not realizing her mom was now a statue.

"Mommy!" Coco cried and tried to wipe her tears.

I placed my hand on the girls back trying to calm her down. "Don't be so harsh on her, she just lost her mother." I whispered at the male witch.

He stared down at the girl concerned still holding her from falling down.

"That's why we keep things in secret, to prevent things like this from happening. The conjuring ink..the patterns for the casting seals. That's all it takes work those anyone can use magic. Hiding that truth is that one great rule of witches..and those who find out must have their memories erased."

In an instant Coco kicked Quifrey's face and trying to get him away from her. "C-Calm down! Quit twisting around!"

"If you make me forget then what'll happen to my mom?!" She continued to cry.

"If you could tell me what kind of seal you drew, I might be able to reverse it,but without that knowledge…oww!"

"Coco!" I spoke trying to get the young girl to calm herself down.

The girl continued to try and get herself off of the witch. "If you're asking about the picture book, I've read it many times, I know it by heart!"

Quifrey took hold of her which made Coco remains still and look at me and Quifrey. "You could identify the book if you saw it again, yes? If I found another copy and show you the shape.."

"The same one I drew. Could you Dave my mother?"

"There may yet be hope for her, Coco." I reassure her.

"Mister Quifrey please! Please don't take my memories! I swear I'll find the book again, I'll do anything to save her!" Coco said not hugging the male witch tight.

Quifrey and I remained silent, he turned to glance at me and I knew what he had in mind now.

"Can you honor the secret?"

"Yes, I promise!"

"And do you have the will to study?"

"S-Study?" Coco seemed confused by his words.

Quifrey nodded his head. "If you are to retain the truth you have learned then you choose to stand alongside us. That is your only option."

I sighed but smiled a bit and watched as Quifrey held Coco up. "Coco..From now on you will be a witch."

[amostimprobabledream]

Writer Tag!

Thanks so much @blindmagdalena! How many works do you have on AO3? As of right now, 67. What's your total AO3 word count?

No idea lol.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? A Lungful of Smoke Quid Pro Quo The Trees Stood Witness The Beast You've Made of Me the beast you've made of me

I feel like three of these should be discounted because I wrote them in like 2017 - the Hawks one was literally when he was first introduced and we didn't even know his civilian name then.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do, though not every comment - usually if they're just like "Part Two!" or "More plz!" I tend not to reply to those. I tend to worry about looking like I'm purposefully boosting my comment number by replying to them all.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Definitely "as the stars explode".

What’s the fic you've written with the happiest ending? I'm not sure, most of my fics are smut oneshots so I guess hitting the big O is a happy ending. "The Gift" was a pretty happy ending for Grimmjow and Reader.

Do you write crossovers? Not usually but that doesn't necessarily mean I never will.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Yes. Once I got a particularly stupid one about some girl getting salty that I spoiled a character's death - a character that had only appeared in the manga, so as an anime-only watcher she shouldn't have even been reading about him since she shouldn't know who he is if she hadn't already seen some spoilers.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I think it's pretty much all I write lol. I'm trying to branch out a bit but I worry people feel cheated with no sexy payoff.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? I have, though this was back in like 2015 of a fandom I'm not naming out of embarrassment, and they reposted it to ff.net. Luckily I don't think Reader Inserts are permitted there so I'm assuming it got deleted anyway.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a couple of times! Mostly into Russian.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, though my Peaky Blinders OC fic is based off an RP I was doing with my friend, so some of it was partly written by her, which I'm repurposing with her permission. <3

What's your all-time favorite ship? I tend to not get too involved with shipping because I like ships that are more unusual and get tired of the same super-popular pairing getting shoved down my neck. That being said, I am forever salty Peaky Blinders set up Tommy/May in Season 2 and then inexplicably just sorta dropped it because May's actress got preggers. (I want them to finally get together for the movie so badly but I'm not holding out much hope.)

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? I like to think once my hyperfixation kicks in I'll go back to some fics I've ditched but I find multichapter stories difficult to commit to. I do want to continue with my Demon!Dabi story and that Dazai one I wrote one chapter of and then ditched. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm fairly good at dialogue and I try to put unique twists on concepts I've seen done before. I personally also enjoy the personalities I give to my Readers, I'm a bit picky with Readers in Reader Inserts (I hate it when they're either super passive and meek or aggressive af for no reason).

What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I have a bad tendency to skip a lot of exposition because I want to jump to dialogue. I also sometimes worry my writing is too beige prose-y and I should take my time a bit more. Also I am awful at finishing multichapter fics because I get distracted so easily. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I guess it depends on how it's used? I quite like it when people write characters with accents, I think it adds a nice flavour to stories. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Fruits Basket and Naruto lol. What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to I have a bunch of like, half-started Billy Butcher x Reader concepts but he's such a hard character to write for. I think it's because I don't get to discuss him nearly as much as Homelander. What's your favorite fic you've written? I'm personally pretty fond of "I'm neon phosporescent" for Dabi being a kinky bastard and "stardust in my eyes" as my first foray into The Boys.

No pressure tags: @librarianqueen @inkyveins @honeydazai-main and anyone else who wants to participate!

[karuvapatta]

I've had a long day so this part is shorter. But there's a cliffhanger!! :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

***

He didn’t take any cigarettes. Why didn’t he take cigarettes? Ostensibly, it’s because he’s been trying to quit, and because it’s an awful habit, and because smoking has been rightfully banned in most public spaces – which are all valid, yes, but, counterpoint: Jon really needs a cigarette right now.

No such luck. He can see two people smoking, but given who the gala is for and Jon’s own rotten luck, they are probably in service of a Fear Entity that would love to swallow Jon whole. So he hides in the shadows instead, his back pressed against the walls of the Institute, and takes some comfort in the fact that the Archives are nearby. Just a short walk down the main hall, a staircase, and a corridor, with the familiar door at the end. And there’s the cot in the old storage room, a kettle, five different types of tea, fresh milk in the fridge, biscuits, a few apples, bread and ham and cheese… it is a little sad that the small kitchen in the break room is stocked better than the one in Jon’s apartment, but this is his life now.

The only reason he isn’t down there right now is that it’s the first place Elias would look for him. If he even needed to look.

He could hide in the tunnels. He would, if he had a torch, some supplies, and a comfier pair of shoes. Or, really, a reason to go for such extreme measures.

…besides, if Elias tried to look for him and couldn’t see him anywhere, wouldn’t he figure out that Jon is somewhere that’s hidden from the Eye, and since the tunnels are nearby and relatively safe, that’s where he must have gone?

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters, because Jon hasn’t done anything to warrant Elias hunting him down. He just—turned around and fled the room. Just like that. Shame it wasn’t at the stroke of midnight, and Jon had no glass slippers to leave behind. Alas, it’s only 9:34 and Jon’s shoes are the most generic brand available, and they pinch a little anyway.

So it’s not a perfect metaphor. Jon was never great at those. The fact remains that it’s a chilly evening, he is shivering slightly, sitting on the steps of the Institute, and aching for a smoke. He is also alone. Not in any supernatural way, but if he stays here any longer, he isn’t sure the fog won’t come creeping back for him.

He fishes the phone out of his pocket, and considers his options for a few minutes, before he cracks and calls Martin.

“Jon?”

“Erm. Hi,” Jon says. His mind is blank; he should have thought of something to say. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No, not at all. Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Martin. The concern in his voice is so apparent, and it sets around Jon’s shoulders like a warm blanket. It’s wonderful; Jon wonders if he will ever come to deserve it.

“Everything’s fine,” Jon says. He feels slightly guilty for making Martin worry in the first place, so he hurries to add: “The gala was rather uneventful. I think I’m going to head home.”

“Oh!” There are some noises on Martin’s end of the line; he can recognize familiar voices. “We are actually at a pub right now? With Tim and Sasha. Would you like to join us?”

He says it all in a rush. He’s expecting Jon to decline; Jon has never accepted their invitation in the past. It might have been a sense of propriety, some rules about fraternizing with one’s subordinates. But he knows that’s not the whole truth.

“I’d like that,” Jon says. “If, erm, Tim and Sasha don’t mind?”

There’s laughter on the other end; are they laughing at him? They must be. Good lord, why is he always so awkward…

“They don’t,” Martin says. “Come on, I’ll text you the address.”

***

It’s a quaint little place, not far from the Institute. A coincidence? Or is it part of the binding, that they cannot stray too far from it even on a Friday night? Either way, all three of them look reasonably relaxed, sharing a cramped booth and finishing off a round of drinks.

“Looking good, boss,” Sasha grins at him. Jon would assume she’s being sarcastic but there’s no malice to her tone; he still fiddles with the sleeve of his suit jacket, aware that he is horribly overdressed for such an informal setting.

“I should have changed,” he says. “But it was already pretty late…”

“No! I mean, uh,” Martin clears his throat nervously. “You do look really nice.”

“Smooth, man,” Tim mutters.

He smiles at Jon, but there’s something uncomfortably guarded in his expression. Jon aches for a time when things were simpler between the two of them.

“So! Tell as bout the gala,” Sasha says, sipping something bright and colourful through a straw. Jon perches down on a seat opposite her, next to Martin, who is shuffling around awkwardly to make more space, and whose face is now almost entirely red.

“Like I said,” Jon says. “Uneventful.”

“Really?” Tim asks. “No black candles, no ritual sacrifice?”

“You make it sound like we’re in a cult.”

“We are in a cult.”

“Do we have to talk about this now?” Martin asks.

“No. I suppose not.”

An awkward silence descends upon the table. Jon fidgets with his hands, and the others drink, each scanning around for a safe topic of conversation.

They don’t find it right away. But it unspools gradually, through books and music and movies. Jon buys a round of drinks for everyone – he is their boss, after all, it seems customary – and Tim smiles a little more favourably at him after that.

It is nice, in a very mundane way. But Jon appreciates the mundanity of it all the more for how rare it’s been. They drink, and chat, and everything’s going perfectly well until Tim pulls out his phone to check his messages, and goes incredibly, unnaturally still.

“Tim?” Sasha asks. “You okay?”

Tim looks up. Stares at Jon. Then he looks down again.

“More or less, yeah,” he says. “So, Jon. About that gala…”

[dashawfrostart]

This Week In "Time & Again" #3: Gettin' Technical... Again?! And A Little Cynical

Hello again! I must admit... My weekly blog posting schedule has slightly shifted - first, because I posted the Halloween poster a.k.a. The First Teaser a bit later due to the creepy holiday itself, and second - because a bunch of life stuff is happening (yup, don't underestimate me, I do have a life outside artworks! 🤣). Usually everything has been fairly straightforward and gradual in my life, but there's a bit of certain activity going on in it right now, more than usual. And potentially also non-artistic side projects in my life. Because of that, I didn't get a chance to draw as much as I anticipated to during this week (already last week?! wowie!!!.. time flies, indeed!). But nevertheless, I tried my very best to go ahead with "Time & Again", for this is a project of the greatest importance to me. Slower or faster it's reaching its "well done" state - it doesn't matter. As you know, I'm not big on time limits 😁 At this point of time, the product is still very undercooked, so I'll be cooking it until done (even though I absolutely can't stand it when the packages say "cook until done"... because would you PLEASE be more vague?🤣).

To my surprise, I do not have an awful lot to say today. One might even say I'm ruining the format, for the previous posts I made had quite a (relatively) high word count. That said though - and some people close to me know this very well - every time I say I don't have much to say I end up writing twice or thrice as normal. Which leads us to conclusion that, perhaps, I actually do have things to say?!.. Either way, I'm sure you're not yet tired of me rumbling on and on about strange things that only some people - primarily digital artists - understand... Namely my habits of work. I am sure quite methodical in the way I draw, perhaps oddly. So I'll continue being technical for a while, until I run out of techy topics to talk about. And when I do... then I'll just spam more pictures 😁

However... A small demonstration of progress would be good for a wee little "teaser" of sorts:

(Note the layer names. I often make typos when I rename the layers - and I just don't bother and leave them as is, because it doesn't really matter. Pains me as a languages and grammar nerd, of course, but also entertains me a bit 🤣 Also, the cigarette smoke has been drawn on a separate layer as well, and it humorously states how I feel about this particular habit of this charming dirtymouth individual. Eeeew, Lothar. Not cool.) I do not always do that, but sometimes I start off drawing the outlines of the characters' bodies and end up "wrapping" clothes around them afterwards, like on the screenshots above. I think the reason why I completed the work on Chapter 3 so unbelievably fast last year was due to the fact that on majority of the frames Lothar appeared topless... Because I've noticed that when the characters don't have much clothes on them, it takes significantly less time to draw them. But of course!.. In this case you don't have to draw every single fold and wrinkle on shirts and skirts, extra seams on jeans, or additional stylish detail on any piece of garment that looks far too plain without it... Drawing characters naked - or half-naked - sure saves an artist a TREMENDOUS amount of time and effort. ... I suspect this is also the reason why in a lot of modern comics and mangas - and animated shows, too - the artists tend to include a lot of nudity in their projects... Why yes, isn't it obvious?! Because who, pray tell, wants to spend extra hours drawing all the clothes anyway?! Come on, clothes are overrated! I'm sure of it now.

... That was plenty enough of cynicism and sarcasm for a single post, I guess. Alas! I'm rumbling, again! That was not planned by me! So let's move on to the main part of this post now! Finally, on to the techy stuff, as promised! Yum! 🤤

First of all, I would like to mention a very important change in the way I work on my graphic novel now. One fine day, not long ago, I have discovered something... that turned my digital artist's world upside down. And the name of the phenomena that shattered my whole life was... Krita's weighted smoothing for the brush. (ok, ok... that sounded very exaggerated and pompous. But oh well!)

The screenshot on the left shows the brush settings I used all the time prior to Chapter 5. I used amazing Krita's Stabilizer smoothing, because I found it quite useful back in the day as I only started to use my Huion graphic monitor. I was so fascinated with it... It truly felt magical after a few years of using "a blind", screenless Wacom drawing tablet (which I will never ever go back to, for, to be honest, I have no idea how I was able to draw anything 🤣... tried using it a couple years ago just to see the difference, and I ended up exclaiming, "How in the ❤❤❤❤ do you even draw on this thing?!", and I set it aside for good... to collect real thicc layers of dust on the shelf 🤣). The right screenshot depicts the current settings I use for the weighted smoothing. Those are the Krita defaults.

An unskilled eye would probably not even notice any remarkable difference between the two as they watch somebody drawing in real time - or if they compare my older works versus the very latest ones. I must admit, the difference is sure very subtle. But to me, there's enough of a difference in how it FEELS when I'm drawing. The lines turn out better overall, somehow it makes me feel as if I'm drawing on paper rather than on a slippery screen. I could say, to me weighted smoothing imitates pencil drawing on paper very well. Which ultimately means... it's easier to draw in general. Thus, the digital artworks look more like my regular artworks on paper. It makes me happy that I can just be me when I'm drawing on both paper and on the graphic monitor. Back in the day, I was very worried about how switching to digital format was gonna impact my peculiar art style. Turns out it hardly does. ... Not that drawing on a graphic monitor has ever been challenging to me, for I learnt pretty fast, and yet, at times something felt a little off. So right now, I ponder, there's gonna be much less "off" and much more "awesome". Which is indeed lovely.

Now I question myself on why I've never used this brush smoothing before, for I truly think it would've made the process of work much faster and the final result a tad nicer. This proves that one needs a perspective, a few types of materials to compare before springing to any sort of conclusions. Seems like back in the day weighted smoothing simply didn't get enough attention and any sufficient "test drive" from me. But I am very happy I discovered this wonderful thing now. And I'm gonna stick to it - quite possibly forever from now on, as I will keep working on the rest of "Time & Again" chapters as well as everything else including random little arts with the other characters that I love to sporadically work on every so often, and the pieces for my online greeting cards store, and such.

... Like I already mentioned in the beginning of this post, as I write - I might get seriously carried away. And I see this post keeps growing bigger and bigger in size, again, so I should better wrap it up and save a little more exciting information for the next post (that I will hopefully try to schedule properly in order to restore more or less consistent posting timeframe, for now it's aaaaaall over the place!.. no promises tho).

I'm afraid, no animated gifs today. But for a nice goodbye, I'll drop a little "teaser" picture - a very rough sketch for some other "Time & Again" artwork that I'm going to finish up shortly (hopefully).

You will most likely see the end result of this particular artistic torment as a layout element on my social pages.

And for now - doooooodly doot doot! - I wave goodbye and leave the online world for a while to keep working on my obsession... and to eat some peanut butter, too, of course. See ya next time! 👋

[septembersghost]

I can't believe you're talking about NPH and David 😭 I used to follow them too not because of HIMYM which I've never even watched but because this thing they used to do on Halloween where they'd dress up with their kids and I thought it was cute. Until the Winehouse thing and those pics that came out of NPH literally dragging his poor son down the street because the kid didn't want to move (he was like 3-4?). But yes I remember David talking about his depression and drug addiction and alcoholism. I thought the same thing you brought up, as an addict himself he should have more common sense. And he's a chef so he was involved of course. I read those blinds too and I took them with a grain of salt but then on IG someone who worked at a recent photoshoot they had (they said this before it came out) mentioned that it was miserable to see them because they clearly don't get along and NPH is mean and David is "a mess", was drunk and kept annoying everyone chain-smoking with his kids present. And then a few days later the photoshoot came out :/ the user was an stylist. I feel for him but also... Amy didn't deserve that. And he only apologized this year because he had another show coming out. Which flopped I think.

unpredictable topics coming at us fast here lately! (which is fine, i don't mind!)

i used to see the family photos with their children at halloween every year just through social media osmosis and they were so adorable. those pics that came out of NPH literally dragging his poor son down the street because the kid didn't want to move wtffff? i missed this too. 😞

blinds can def be dicey, so a grain of salt is warranted, and i don't always particularly like the culture around them because rumors easily turn to mean-spirited lies turn to deranged conspiracies, BUT, of course, sometimes things turn out to be sadly true from them too. that's awful and upsetting, at the very least their kids shouldn't be in that environment, and they're old enough now that situations like that can really affect them. i feel for david in those struggles too, and for both of them if they're having problems in their marriage or anything else, but they need to take stock and responsibility for their children's sake if that's going on.

amy absolutely did not deserve any of that and tbh there's no remorse that quite makes up for it, because what dearth of humanity causes you to do something like that in the first place? it looked like he apologized because the photo got dragged up again (imagine what that must've been like for amy's family...i just read this interview with her brother), and i think you're right that he had a series of some sort this year too.

anyway this is how i learn that nph is going to be in the 60th anniversary doctor who special? help

[vermillioncrown]

This might be easier, remember the college au you wrote a little of? What if everyone there woke up with past memories?

not really easier but i appreciate the sentiment. have this whole thing of nonsense as a reward.

(transmigrators are on their third lives, reverse transmigrators are on their second lives.)

(we're just gonna stick with the canon characters i've already written in the college au)

(wangxian ot3 shippers, eat your heart out)

=

the dreamnightmare was so fantastic so disturbing that sy wakes late and nearly ends up missing his bus. he barely makes it, rushing towards the pre-lecture meeting spot where zyx should have a warm latte waiting for him.

he finds her lying on the dirt (as usual). she's dressed in her gremlin uniform, worn when she pulls an all-nighter (as usual). she... has a cigarette burning away between her lips (unusual).

"bad night?" sy tentatively asks.

"something i dreamt i was a butterfly, something something, am i a butterfly," zyx mumbles, thousand yard stare up into the canopy of the trees.

okay, then - a Strange Dream. his dream was fucking weird, but zyx's dreams were Cinematic Weird. Inception Weird. sometimes, he wishes she'd just ghostwrite for sqh with that imagination of hers.

zyx is usually down to talk about them. today, however, she doesn't start rambling about the details even as he waits patiently.

finally, sy plucks the cigarette from her mouth and stomps it out. "'now i do not know whether i was then a man dreaming i was a butterfly; or whether i am now a butterfly, dreaming i am a man'," he corrects. "zhuangzi."

"persona," she weakly insists.

"you banana-weeb-trash," sy rolls his eyes, "c'mon. we'll be late for lecture"

she becomes more present as they walk towards the lecture hall. whatever; if she wants to say something she'll eventually say it. sy needs to quickly drink his coffee and put it out of his mind. it's not like he'll let his own weird trashy isekai nightmare get in the way of respectfully interacting with his peers.

=

sy reaches class and immediately, disrespectfully stares. stares at lbh, a junior that is always early, always sits behind sy's seat, and always seems to have a smile on his face. it's a smile today, too, but one that seems too focused on his person.

sy feels his face start to heat up. he flashes a quick smile and turns to look elsewhere. his eyes (disrespectfully) lands on his other junior lqg. disrespectful, because he can't look away from how his (pretty) classmate stares at him. intently, with turbulent thoughts behind his face.

"shen -"

"- you!" and abruptly, lbh and lqg start punching each other in the lecture hall

what the fuck.

zyx stops walking and leans on his arm. "uh. huh... i was kidding when i said they were probably part of some fight club," zyx gives the duo a dispassionate look. "i love being right."

=

by the time her controls lecture rolls around, zyx is too fucking Done to give a shit about any dreams, no matter how mind-bendy and weird. did dream-zyx help her solve the homework? no? then she's not welcome in the real world.

(actually, zyx realizes and crosses out an erroneous line of work, that mistake seems so obvious now -)

"- hey! yunxun!"

she looks up. it's wei fucking wuxian, hovering over her desk with that shit-eating smile. fuck him, she's had nastier dreams with uglier people - 'you're not special wwx!'

"can i... help you?"

his smile turns awkward.

"well..., um, you know - since we're in this class and mechatronics together, i was wondering if you want to study with me?"

every word out of wwx makes her feel like she's being held hostage. study what? he's basically top of the class - does he want a complimentary blowjob or something?

"do you need tutoring money?" she tries deflecting as a joke. zyx is aware it comes off meaner than she wanted it to, but - she can already see how studying together will go. wwx, non-stop talking and solving everything. her, lead-tongued and in tears when she gets home.

"you want me to tutor you?" wwx perks up, before freezing and laughing awkwardly, "i mean, i don't think you need tutoring, but -"

"- i don't need tutoring," she deadpans.

fuck. all of their classmates are just... staring now. zyx resolutely turns back to her homework and notes, willing wwx to just go away.

he does not. unfortunately for her, he decides on one last attempt to annoy her and succeeds.

"hair like snow, your parting is a beautiful sorrow, who is moved by my incense -" he starts whisper-singing, hands braced on her desk and leaning in.

'fuck! nhs's karaoke invitation last week was a fucking mistake!!'

zyx slams her notebook shut and stands up. shorter than him by nearly a head, that doesn't stop her from glaring up and baring her teeth. "if you wanted to embarrass me, you could have just stuck with grades."

fuck it, she's not in the mood for learning anything. zyx grabs her bag and shoves her notebook in, barely remembering to toss her homework onto the lectern before stomping out of the room.

=

zyx's time smashing her list of angsty emo song covers on the piano comes to an abrupt end with a knock. she turns, dreading and knowing whatwho she'll find.

the indomitable lan wangjihot violin asshole glares at her through the window pane of the practice room door.

'fuck, man - don't you have class?! go to school!' zyx is completely aware that she's a huge hypocrite.

it's like god knows she had disrespectful dreams of her classmates, and is now punishing her. so rude - dreams are dreams, life is life.

she can't delay opening the door any longer. zyx finishes packing up and walks over to yet another mortifying social interaction.

"... hi? um. room's free, if you..." her voice fades as she elicits no response, facial or verbal.

finally, his glare changes. "zhu yunxun."

her fucking heart drops straight into hell the moment he says her name. he knows her name?!?! he remembers her?!!?!?

worse - a hot violin asshole doppelganger pops into the doorframe, smiling like the good twin to the original's evil.

(okay, she knows he's not evil, but he's kinda not... he's evil because she doesn't like how he makes her feel, okay?)

"wangji, is this the acquaintance that you wanted for your accompaniment?"

"mhm."

"hi, i'm lan xichen, wangji's brother - it's nice to meet you," smile-y (but no less evil) violin doppelganger holds out a hand. "you're not a music major, right? i haven't seen you around."

"hi, uh. zhu yunxun." zyx thanks the fucking merciful goddess that she is trained to autopilot crush hands in a handshake - can't compete with the sweaty engineering boys otherwise (never mind that she's basically a sweaty engineering boy). "i'm in the engineering department."

"you play as an extra-curricular, then?"

'no, i don't play at all! i don't know how to play!' all she has is five years of her uncle teaching her random shit. she can't say that for fear of her life, with frowny hot violin asshole glaring down at her and smile-y hot violin(?) asshole just... expecting down at her.

("what's a recital?" she remembers asking in class, when questioned about her piano lessons. holy fuck. time travel and go put her past self out of her misery, please.)

"Ah... hahah yeah, it's all just for fun... hey, sorry - i'm actually running late for a group meeting" she quickly darts between the two brothers, waving behind her as she runs down the hall. "nice meeting you!" she yells back.

=

sqh has been missing for a week. sy and zyx have noted it, but aren't too concerned (he texted a cryptic emoji missive, which they interpreted as 'mostly ok', which, okay). he gets in writing benders and squirrels away often enough. it's only by the 10th day mark that they need to drag sqh to air out in the sun.

besides, the two of them have other concerns.

"you're looking crustier than usual," sy says as his warm and polite greeting towards a dear friend.

"dude, fuck you." zyx takes an obnoxious slurp of her iced coffee. "i don't wanna hear it from sir gucci eyebags"

they both look rather worse for the wear. sy knows what he's dealing with - a strange feeling of being hunted. watched. the odd moods of some of his classmates. lqg's stares ('can he read minds? fuck, man - it's not gay if it's in a dream!'). constant lbh encounters, seeing him play frisbee on the quad and ripping off his shirt ('how the fuck did he know the shape of him??' he can't help but look downwards, like the call of the void, and - NO -).

but zyx? she's been working weirder hours than usual. and hasn't wanted to indulge in her typical hangouts or habits. "did you fail a project? a midterm?" skipping the gym (probably for her own good, sy thinks, looking at her husk-like countenance).

"no!" defensive, but likely not a lie from her expression. "... people are just... being annoying. i literally have to sneak into the comp lab at midnight to get anything done. dance practice location also needs to change - so a lot of running ragged scouting and asking for permission"

sy nods along, thumbing through forums on his phone. "this week has been a special kind of shit." he feels agitated, unable to focus on what would normally be an enjoyable distraction.

"for real -"

she freezes.

"what?" sy turns to her, but a second later zyx shoves her drink and laptop bag into his arms and fucking sprints away.

"oh, come on! your laptop weighs, like, a million pounds!"

two guys, one in the lead, rush past sy and give chase.

"what the fuck."

=

=

wwx wakes. the whir of his ceiling fan cuts through the fog of his dream. was it a dream? a full life, friends and family, love and war, suffering and pain, eventual happiness -

of course it's a dream. ha, why else would his acoustics lecture find its way into a perfectly fantastic xianxia -

wait.

he spends the next two hours on a wikipedia binge. more than thirty tabs open, all four corners of the screen filled with different windows. taylor series expansion, sure. controllability and observability, fine.

stability modes of aircraft? ... it makes sense, but wwx doesn't remember learning it. and yet... the equations of motion and the stability derivatives - they aren't - they're familiar.

calculus of variations - he was hoping to take that course next semester after he overheard zyx gush about it to her friend. the principles don't make complete sense, not at the moment. but the equations, the fundamentals... he knows them. his dream told him.

wwx knows he's brilliant by all standards, but this is beyond believable.

the third hour is spent humming different tunes into his phone. he knows them, but the dream-addled part of him needs to confirm, because what if - just what if -

fa ru xue, by jay chou.

try me, by foxwedding (this one took a while, without lyrics, the melody obscured by loud ocean waves, liberties taken with a guqin arrangement, but undoubtedly it was this song).

the other ones, he scours the internet.

and finds nothing.

in a daze, he grabs his flute out of its case and plays.

=

lwj wakes. it isn't unusual to get up before dawn. he hears the mourning doves coo outside, but today, his heartbeat is faster than their calm, morning cadence.

dreams were odd, and lwj's were vivid and seared into his memory. the emotional weight behind this particular one was overwhelmingly heavy. he feels each exhale, trying to steady himself, come out of him like a barely-contained sob.

eventually, the day must be met. lwj gets ready and heads to campus.

aural lessons, he suffers through. advanced theory feels stifling - he barely tolerates what the professor lectures.

for his general education course in art history, wwx's presence feels less provoking and more calming today.

"lan wangji!" his former dormmate calls out. "look, i drew you!"

it's meant to be a teasing doodle, one with wwx escaping lwj's strictness by burying him under a pile of textbooks. doodle lwj triggers the avalanche via tripwire.

lwj from a week ago would have burned with indignance at being teased, secret pleasure from wwx's attention, embarrassment from having his unruly feelings exposed, frustration at the lack of ability to comport himself as he desires.

lwj today feels nothing but mirth and fondness. it's like something untangled the messy knot of sentiment inside him, making it clear and obvious. there is no conflict, nothing to feel frustrated over.

"do i survive?"

wwx blinks. "uh - haha, lan-er-gege you're so strong, a few books can't bring you down!"

=

evening orchestra rehearsal comes. breaktime is lax, with the conductor too busy arguing the music director about the piece for this year. it seems that likely, the music director will have the final say and their lineup will change, so no one is eager to commit to something that's temporary.

wwx continues to sound out the half-remember melodies from his dreams. one of them, he hears the oboist hum along as he walks by (that was lwj's brother, wasn't it?) but it was so fleeting, wwx thinks he imagined it.

that one was harder to remember. he switches to the other melody. it elates him to figure out the development, everything slotting into place, that he is joined by strings on his second repeat and doesn't notice until he's halfway through.

wwx looks up and sees lwj slowly lowering his violin. before he can say anything, the conductor barks at everyone to return to their seats and resume rehearsal.

=

for lwj, coming to terms with the state of matters is not turbulent. there are midweek dinners at his uncle's residence, the man being a collector of fine traditional instruments. lwj has never learned anything besides the violin, unlike his brother - no amount of cajoling or demand was able to turn him from single-minded focus.

is it a surprise that touching the guqin on display felt like homecoming, even as the strings catch strangely on his violinist calluses? his left hand taps with confidence, right hand plucks, and a clear harmonic rings out.

=

is it a dream? is it not a dream?

wwx idly marks up his notes as he waits for the lecture hall to fill. a head of pink hair catches his attention.

it has to be a dream, he decides, watching zyx slouch her way towards her preferred seat. a dream with his prickly classmate in a prominent role, differing in every way but their names -

and wwx finds himself automatically moving to sit behind her as usual.

as usual. and it is - he can almost see the ghost of dream-zyx superimposed over this zyx, scrawling away at their notes. the same expression of pensive concentration.

he finds himself leaning over her desk, words spilling from his mouth. and when she gives him the look of dismissal, the memory in his brain desperately claws its way out, demanding he keep her from turning away -

well. blunt, cutting, and needing the last word. bravery when pushed. determined, demanding on oneself, proud. clever.

like two pitches slowly matching frequency, the dissonance in his mind dissipates.

=

it hurts. the echo of the same rejection happening, even dampened through an entire lifespan - the sting of it feels sharp and real.

it is her. a zyx less burdened with propriety, responsibility, able to run as she pleases and act unrestrained... and she runs from him.

"i... didn't say anything offensive, did i, wangji?" lxc asks tentatively.

he didn't. the same cycle of kindness, slowly leaking out until all lwj can see is her back. he remembers when they were children. he remembers when they were in freshman year. quiet discussions in the library. different teas, until she found by some hidden criteria the one to continue sharing with him.

somehow, in some manner, zyx has again found something lacking about him. in their first life, this old hurt was packed away, bygones as bygones.

who has overturned the cupboard of past lives, indeed.

=

"lan zhan."

lwj stops. wwx is standing at the bus stop, moonlight overhead. the two of them stayed late tonight, voluntold by the conductor to clean up for being distracted all rehearsal.

how could lwj be anything but distracted? he knows. he knows. wei ying is right there, in the same room. laughing the same way, same clever fingers on his flute, identical vivacious behavior.

"wei ying."

silence, before wwx breaks into the biggest grin possible to contain on his face. "lan-er-gege!" he sprints and leaps at lwj.

what is thousands of dollars, extrinsic in value, compared to lifespans of love? lwj drops his violin case and catches wwx in his arms.

=

"lan-er-gege, when did you know?"

"rehearsal. the 13th."

"wait. how???"

"figure it out yourself."

=

"i found her," lwj admits. it comes out like a shameful confession.

wwx huffs in amusement. "she doesn't like you much, either, huh?" he stretches in his seat. "you know, lan zhan..."

"... if she really hated you, hated me, there's nothing stopping this zyx from kicking us in the nuts."

lwj can't help but let out a small mirthful sigh. "i suppose."

"if she's the same, and she is - zyx has always been a stubborn mule that needs prodding and convincing."

=

they spend more time together, after that. but as if to make up for the sudden fill of lwj in his life, zyx seems to slip away like a ghost. if not for the fact that she answered the professor calling out names to return exams, wwx would have thought he made her up.

and of course, lwj's stubborn, stalwart faith that she is here.

it is pure chance that they see her walking down the quad path with one of her friends. the two are casual and close, reminding wwx of other-zyx and their relationship with that peacock.

this zyx lets exhaustion show on her face. lets herself be sloppy. feels safe, secure, and free enough to let her inner self show. objectively, it's not as beautiful and gilded as the comportment in that dream-like life.

it's something that wwx of both lives hunted for with persistence.

and it is habit of both lives - when zyx runs, wwx is riled into pursuit. how can he resist, when she keeps making such incredulous and hilarious expressions?

wwx starts running on instinct. "lan zhan! chase!" he doesn't have to look behind to know that lwj follows.

=

=

'fuck fuck fuck i shouldn't have quit track!!' zyx lambasts herself as she runs down the school arboretum path. fuck ticks, she's saving her life here - zyx cuts across the bushes to the other side of the grounds.

sigh. wow. okay, maybe she shouldn't have run because who would have thought those two would start chasing like velociraptors?? fuck, have some composure, assholes!

two figures leap out and tackle her into the river just as she started to catch her breath.

"- fUCK!"

[whysojiminimnida]

We all know the kpop industry treats it's idols poorly . Yes, that's a broad brush statement, but we could back it up with receipts if pressed. Fans are led to believe the idols live celibate, single lives with no relationships outside of their team or family. In order to keep that trope alive, any idol who tries to have a normal love life, is often fired. Here's proof: https://www.newsweek.com/hyuna-dawn-fans-convinced-couple-confirm-engagement-kpop-1675835

I wonder if BigHit would do the same to one of BTS. A good many fans assume at least some of the members have romances / significant others, but trying to hide that must be quite a strain on the boys. And, imo, being that s.o. would be stressful, knowing that if you are found out, you would have a massive target on your back.

Hiya @towardtheblue!

I'm slow but I do get to things, I promise. And OMG Cube Entertainment was SO DUMB when they fired HyunA in October of 2018. Like, what did they think was gonna happen, she and Dawn would break up and fade into obscurity?

Also they fired HER and not HIM which: fuck those people. Dawn felt the same way and left Cube a month later, after which they just Gangnam-styled right over to P Nation, Psy's label. They're still working, still popular, and now we have this...

OKAY THAT IS DARLING AND

They are apparently engaged, if not one but two matching rings and at least one matching tattoo I've seen are anything to go by. And good for them. In the West we think we're maybe a bit better about letting people live. We've been taught and expect that famous people have relationships which do not involve us (unless you're One Direction, that was super weird and I think STILL IS for some insane Larry shippers, I never skated on that side of the insanity rink so IDK). We seem to be handling Heterosexual Jikook okay now that they've been outed AGAINST THEIR WILL though. So IDK, maybe we don't handle things all that well over here either.

If Zendaya is the Jungkook in that household then Jimin is the real Spider-Man, I'm just saying.

BUT I DIGRESS. You were talking about BTS and BigHit. Who, to our knowledge and based on things they have said, do not have a no-dating clause in their contract. Fact is, we don't know exactly what IS in their contracts, all of which were renewed in 2018 with various lawyers for individuals and the company in attendance. We have ideas based on things the members have said.

No drunken social media or VLives (LOL), no smoking/vaping on camera, no traveling without letting someone know type stuff. I know that some groups have a no PUBLIC dating clause with BigHit. But we don't know for sure what BTS agreed to do or what Bang PD asked for where that's concerned. THIS LINK IS NOT A LEGIT INFORMATION SOURCE. It is badly written speculation, and that is the most we actually have other than the words of the guys or Bang PD themselves. All media about the contract terms reads about like this:

The ONLY reason I posted this is to show that we DO NOT have the terms of their contracts. They have not been made public. We're not even sure whether they extend through 2026 or are over in 2024.

Now K-pop history tells us that the Big Three do fire idols for breach of contract. I'm not even sure BTS IS fireable at this point in their careers. Seriously what is Bang PD gonna do, force them to disband? AW HELL NO that is not happening to the biggest band in the world.

BUT. What we also know is that the fandom simply CANNOT HANDLE IT when any of the members, especially the maknae line, BREATHE in someone's direction.

(Yes yes we still hate Koreaboo but you led me here so here we go)

Edits, edits everywhere

We've seen the hate that Nain got because Jungkook dared to like a dance video and tell her so. We've all been made forcibly aware of the "BTS IS STR8"agenda. We have seen TKKers and the lies, mistranslations and outright bullying that goes on in that segment of the fandom despite what the members themselves have OPENLY SAID. I honestly think it will be after military service or exemption and possibly after disbandment before any BTS member comes out with any romantic relationship, regardless of who it's with. And I don't blame them.

[kharmii]

Reposting Art Work

If you see your artwork here, and you are unhappy about it, shoot me a message and I'll delete the post. If you have complaints in general, plz read my MESSAGE TO FAN ARTISTS. Also, because I rant about this too much, MESSAGE TO ABO ENTHUSIASTS AND TRANS PEOPLE. Also, READ BEFORE SENDING ANOTHER TIRED ASK ABOUT 'YOU H8 TRANS PEOPLE BUT BROTHERS WHO FUCK AND SHEEEIT...'

****AGAIN, B4 U SEND ANON HATE, EXPLAIN TO ME WHY IT'S SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE FOR VILE, DISGUSTING FURRY FETISHESTS TO HAVE 'PROSHIPPERS DNI' ON THEIR PROFILES, AND YET I'M CALLED THE HYPOCRITE?

RE: BLANKSHIPPING

Blankshipping is shipping Subway Bosses Ingo and Emmet (or Nobori and Kudari in Japanese). Yes, they are mirror twin brothers, and yes, they have intimate relations in some of the stuff I post here. No, I don't believe incest is okay irl, but yes, I think it's hot for two brothers with theater mask muppet faces who dress in flashy conductor uniforms to submas furiously bang. Don't send me rude asks saying 'Don't support incest, bro' because I'm unrepentant, don't gaf about anything, and I cannot be reasoned with on this issue. Do send asks if you are into blankshipping and want someone to validate your life choices. I mostly post cute stuff like the art below:

UPDATE: Yes, I do my own shiddy artwork sometimes, and yes I wrote a whole-ass book. I'm slow af with artwork because I (draw like Yosemite Sam in Hare Trigger) have attention to detail and don't just crank out stupid MS Paint quality herm furry inflation foot fetish bullshit fit for FA (on that note, my favorite antis are the furries who ruin every bit of shit by making it two-dick werewolf knotting fat pron, yet be like EEWWWW TWINCEST!). I can fit that in between posting other people's shit. If you don't like it, save us all some time and rude comments and block me now. I give zero fucks about Tumblr etiquette and am heavily into posting comments and gifs because human interaction is not offensive to me. Why do I do what I do? *Directs you to the following*

Side note: If you like everything else I post here except blankshipping, there's a way to filter out certain tags you don't like. I had a falling out with other blankshippers because I'm trying to not get too weird with it. I like to post a little twincest the way other people might like to smoke a little marijuana. It might not be a life choice that will earn me a lot of respect, but smoking pot doesn't have to be the gateway into losing my teeth smoking meth or prostituting myself for crack. In the same way, posting Subway Boss buggery doesn't have to lead to me getting into necrophilia, beastiality, incest baby m-preg or whatever other weird shit I've seen on the blankshipping tag. The antis might not quite sympathize with me; they'd say, "What did you expect shipping incest?" -To which I'd reply, "..But I'm not...but...........aw godammit!!"

Art credit to: @sonicrrrrrrow and みやじま@miyamiya0302 Twitter.

[kurtskrow]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗞𝗦

⠀ ⠀ ⠀> Tap for better quality

⠀ ⠀ ⠀> Episode: Hope Falls

- Like I promised in my last post. I’d say why I have a love hate relationship with this episode. So yeah.

Another thing I love about this episode is that we get to learn more about Frank, and we get to see that Scott does indeed have a heart, and that he does learn from his mistakes. For those who don't know, at the beginning of the show. Scott is supposed to be seen as a stone cold stoner who just likes getting high, and has no heart. But past episode 3, we get to learn Scott does have a heart. This episode, Hope Falls, shows us that he does have a heart, and feels bad.

When Scott learns about Franks son, and that Franks son overdosed and died. When Frank says. "I never got to say goodbye." You can see how hurt Scott is. He looks down at the ground, speechless, he feels some sort of guilt, then looks back at Frank to listen to him.

This episode shows you that even though the Cliff Hangers are fucked in the head, they still have a moral compass, they still have pride, and honor. Even though they've seen and experienced things a child should never go through, they still have some sort of direction. Even Scott, the most fucked up (mentally) he still has something, he still has his moral compass. That is something I admire.

This episode shows you that even though the Cliff Hangers are fucked in the head, they still have a moral compass, they still have pride, and honor. Even though they've seen and experienced things a child should never go through, they still have some sort of direction. Even Scott, the most fucked up (mentally) he still has something, he still has his moral compass. That is something I admire.

This episode shows you that even though the Cliff Hangers are fucked in the head, they still have a moral compass, they still have pride, and honor. Even though they've seen and experienced things a child should never go through, they still have some sort of direction. Even Scott, the most fucked up (mentally) he still has something, he still has his moral compass. That is something I admire.

We learn that everyone in Horizon at one point has problems. Even the teachers and counselors have problems. Frank, the head master, the principle, even he has problems. He couldn't save his son, and he has some sort of guilt because his son, Tommy I believe, couldn't be saved.

We learn that everyone in Horizon at one point has problems. Even the teachers and counselors have problems. Frank, the head master, the principle, even he has problems. He couldn't save his son, and he has some sort of guilt because his son, Tommy I believe, couldn't be saved.

Another thing I love about this episode. This may sound fucked up. But I love how there is this kid who OD's, and tries to off himself by overdosing. I absolutely LOVE this. Not because he tried to off himself, but rather because of how real it is. Often times when kids are sent off to a ranch, such as Horizon, so they can get better. Instead of wanting to get better, they try to off themselves. This is the most real part of Higher Ground. The fact that kids will always try to off themselves.

This kid doesn't wanna be at Horizon, not to mention he hates his home, his life, and most importantly, himself. Due to this, he tries to off himself at the ranch. A ranch where nobody knows him, a ranch he knows damn well where nobody will miss him, so he tries to off himself.

I like that, it's so realistic, I just- man, I love it so much. Not to mention the kid looks like a Chinese knock-off of Scott.

Another part I liked was when Scott at the end apologizes to the kids mother, he clearly doesn't know what to say. But, you can tell he does feel bad for her, so he apologizes to her. It's a little detail of Scott that I like. Shows you, he does have a good heart deep down.

Also the way Scott rejects Shelby is just chefs kiss.

I love how Scott chops wood at the wood station. Later in the season it’s basically established that chopping wood is something Scott just does. The guy is always chopping wood. In episode 8- it’s like 5AM, and this boy is over here finding some wood to chop. It’s great. He just owns the wood station and I love it.

Now for the stuff I didn't like:

SHELBY. I hate Shelby in this episode. I like her most of the times cause she does a great job at being a special bitchy bitch. But my GOD was she incomprehensible. She tries so hard to hook up with Scott to the point where it is just unbearable to watch.

Now I'm not a smart man myself but believe me when I say, I understand what "no, I don't wanna hook up with you." means. And for some reason, Shelby doesn't understand what, "you're a skank." means.

The most memorable thing about Shelby in this episode, is her purposefully provoking Scott because he tells her, "I quit smoking." Shelby gets pissed at Scott, because he says, "I quit smoking." And it is BEYOND retarded. She literally goes up to his face and is like. "Oh yeah? Well when I lived in the streets you took what you could."

As someone who raised in a ghetto ass area. Yes, in the streets or the hood, you would take whatever you could get, but, you had the opportunity to say no. Nobody forced me to do meth, heroin, cocaine, none of that shit when I was in California. They would offer it yeah, but they wouldn't force it upon me. When I would reject, they'd leave me alone, they wouldn't pressure me for shit. So the fact that Shelby says this, is so stupid to me, because if you say no, TRUST ME, they will leave you alone. Trainspotting is a great movie that displays this. None of the drug addicts force their non-druggie friend to do drugs. In fact, it was all his choice to do drugs. Which is exactly what happens 8 times out of 10.

People always act like most drug dealers will pressure you into taking drugs, or smoking, when the reality is, they won't. They really won't. You say no, to your druggie friends, or to a drug dealer, they will leave you alone. You know how I know this? Because every time I rejected an offer to do some sort of drug, they would leave me alone right after. So Shelby saying this, IS STUPID beyond belief.

Another thing I hate, is how Shelby doesn't understand the words, "No." because she borderline harasses Scott from episode 1-9. She never leaves him alone. She's always like. "Scott, I want your dick."

Scott goes. "Uh... no thanks."

Shelby proceeds to get mad. And it's so stupid. Yes, Scott said no, too bad. He doesn't want you, move on. BUT SHE DOESN'T. She doesn't move on, she continues and continues and continues, even though he says no multiple times. Scott even acknowledges that Shelby is no good for him, he basically tells her. "You're no good for me, Juliette is better, she's loyal, she loves me, and I love her." But Shelby pursues him, she still tries to make him cheat on Juliette.

I hate this so much. He said no. HE LITERALLY TELLS HER NO, and for some reason, she STILL tries to get him to cheat on Juliette. I hate it so much. But Scott, our loyal boyo, rejects her every time.

And so, Shelby, tries her best to make Scott doubt Juliette. What sucks is that she succeeds because she says. "Auggie was all up in Juliette's pants." This works, and Scott starts doubting his relationship with Juliette and it sucks ass, because, she was also loyal to Scott and was very healthy for him, but whatever I guess. I don't fuckin know.

Another thing I hate about this episode is Isaac's mother. Her acting is just deplorable. It's atrocious, it is genuinely hard to watch her acting. It's awful. It is downright awful. It is hard to watch, it really is. I'm not kidding. So, that is one thing I despise about this episode.

The other thing I hate, is I DON'T KNOW IF SCOTT IS DATING JULIETTE. This is the one fucking problem with Juliette and Scott. It is never established when these two officially started going out. Yes, in Episode 2, Juliette gently pecks Scott's lips, and it makes him shy, and that's it. That's literally it. You don't ACTUALLY know that's when they started going out, but that's when it's established they had a thing for each other.

Shelby talks about how Scott only has Juliette but- you're still confused if they're dating or not. You're always left assuming. "Are these two dating? Or are they actually friends with benefits?" I've watched this show 37 times now, and I STILL for the life of me, do not know when Scott and Juliette started dating. And this episode, doesn't help in the slightest.

Instead, this episode makes you assume that they started going out in the episode prior, but in the episode prior, they weren't really talking, so in this episode, you are assuming they are a thing, but you still don't know beCAUSE, IT ISN'T. FUCKING. ESTABLISHED.

Yes, Scott did fight Auggie because Auggie kissed Juliette. But if you loved a girl, and some other fuck came in, and kissed the girl you loved, you would be pissed and tell them fuck off cause you want that girl and you don't want competition.

You know when they break up but you don't know when they officially started dating, and it sucks ass cheeks.

My rating for this episode: 8/10.

8 because the plot is good. But, 1.5 is taken away due to Shelby, and the other .5 is because of all the other stuff. That's it, bye.

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Four - Peril

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, drug use, Tig being Tig. The usual SOA shit. Sorry Donna..

She always saw the beauty in darkness. The lugubrious belle that came alongside the moon and stars and whatever else lurked amidst the murk of nighttime.

Isla was cliche in that sense.

She was cliche in the sense that she adored watching the sun set, swallowed by the mountains and high-rise buildings as the evening fell and Charming was painted black.

And maybe it was mostly melancholic because of the horrors that swathed that small town, but it was still beautiful nonetheless.

She still liked to bask in the scenery, to discern the marvel of her home, from the highest point she could access. And, sometimes, she liked to take somebody along with her so she wasn't completely alone.

"Why'd you still come up here?" Ope asked, pulling himself onto the roof as she sat with her back to the wall--puffing on a cigarette.

"Because it's quiet." She was content, comfortable with her response. "And whenever I'm looking for Jax, or Gem, or my dad--or they're looking for me--this is where we're almost always found. Just people watching, or reminiscing, or having a few minutes to ourselves away from the chaos downstairs."

It wasn't an unknown safe space--Gemma had told her that JT and Clay would climb up there during the earliest days of the club--but it was special.

Jax, Opie, and Isla spent time up there as kids, too. Because they were bastards and were always running from their fathers--and den mother--and the roof of the clubhouse was their go-to.

She never really got out of that habit. She'd spend hours up there if she could, just watching as Charming bustled beneath her. And she liked that it was separate to the garage, but everyone knew where to find her if they needed her.

"It clears your head, being up here." She added. "I have got so much shit going on right now--between work, and my personal life--but coming up here is like a refreshment, I guess."

Opie understood what she meant because he was also seeking comfort in the night. Riding through dusk, spending time alone on his bike as he cruised the streets of his quaint town, relishing in the darkness because it was strangely comforting to him.

He liked to be alone. His thoughts were brutal and they seared his brain left and fucking right, but he liked his own company.

"Wish I thought about comin' up here when I was released from holding." The man chuckled, balancing a cigarette between his lips. "Stahl grilled the fuck outta me."

"She did?"

"Yeah. She really fuckin' did." He added, grunting as smoke blew from his nostrils. "Did she get you? I know she got Gemma."

"Nope, she didn't. I don't know why, though. She interrogated everyone else. Starting to feel a little left out."

Opie chuckled, smiling a bit. "Be glad. It's obvious that she's used to getting what she wants."

"And did you give it to her?"

"Fuck no." Isla smiled. Proud. "She can cross-examine me all she fuckin' wants—I'll never sell the club out."

"They know that, Ope."

"I know." Half confidently, he nodded. "Just—Stahl made me second guess it all, y'know?"

Nobody in Charming--aside from the PD--knew where that despicable bitch came from, and nobody cared to ask.

What they did know, though, was that she had her heart set on making that town a living fucking hell as she strived to eradicate the Sons of Anarchy by getting to its members.

She'd grilled everyone she could've. She cornered Gemma when she was out running errands, leaving the grocery store with a sour taste in her mouth when Teller told her where to fucking shove it.

Same went for Jax, and Clay, and Chibs, and Tig, and...Well, all of them told her to get fucked, actually.

None of them caved. None of them wanted to sell the club out because there was no reason to.

Well, there was a reason to, but no desire to.

There'd been murders. Three, to be specific. And one of them just happened to be a police officer--which was quite unlucky, but it wasn't awful.

They hated cops.

What they hated more, however, was the idea of getting caught by them. And Clay was. Somehow, anyway.

Piney's old "friend"--Nate Meineke--needed quality, albeit illegal, guns with no traceability to attack the convoy that was transporting one of his friends from point A to point B. And it went as swimmingly as possible...

Until June Stahl was put on the case and found that idiot's phone at the scene after dropping it mid-ambush.

Clay just happened to be the last person he had called. Which then caused the investigation to point toward Charming.

They all knew the Sons were guilty of supplying those weapons. Who else would it have been? They were known for running illegal firearms without batch numbers from a quaint Californian town whose name didn't quite fit its image.

It was blatant, though nobody gave it up.

But Stahl tried her damndest to get answers. And when she didn't, she targeted the member that she saw to be the most vulnerable--after a hit went wrong and he failed to cover his tracks--and Opie just happened to be that guy.

She questioned him for hours. She practically held the man captive in that little cell until he caved. But he didn't--and he wasn't going to, either.

He was loyal. That's one of the reasons why Jax wanted to patch him back in.

"Yeah, I know." Isla got to her feet when she heard Tig yelling for her downstairs. "But you're the strongest guy I know, Ope. I don't think Stahl, of all people, is gonna get to you."

He shrugged her off, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the gravelly ground of the roof.

Opie had changed. Not much, and it wasn't very apparent, but he'd changed. Chino had changed him, she thought.

He was still dedicated to his club, still in love with the reaper and the responsibility that came with the patch--but Opie Winston lacked that flicker of enthusiasm now.

"How does your dad feel about you being back at the table?"

"Said he's proud of me."

He was a man of very, very few words. But the tone that he took--the sheer relief twined into contentment--spoke a greater volume.

Piney would always support his son, feel a sense of gratification from his involvement in the club. And, of course, Ope felt grateful to be back--but it was different now.

He'd served time for his club. Donna consistently argued that they sold him out and that he was fucking stupid for running back into the arms of SAMCRO.

But it was his brotherhood. The Sons of Anarchy were his family--his lifeline. He was nothing if not blessed to be patched back in.

"And I guess that wife of yours isn't too happy about it?"

"How'd you reach that conclusion?"

"Well," she ignored that Tig was waiting for her, standing directly in front of him. "If she was genuinely thrilled about you being back here, she'd have been coming to Gemma's dinners, and spending more time at the clubhouse with us. But she isn't, and I'm starting to realize that she probably hates me now."

His head shook. "She doesn't hate you. It's just...It's just raw. Weird being back, I think."

"She didn't even have to leave. She knows that."

Donna did know that. But there was always something about Gemma. About the way she let things slide so often, how she felt that she had Clay so pussy whipped that he'd be at her every beck and call--but, really, that was redundant. Because Gemma let him get away with fucking murder.

Literally.

"Is she gonna be there tonight?

"Of course. She wouldn't miss Jax's son coming home." He got up, reaching for her hands. "Sorry that she's been so distant with you, Isla. But she's just been stressed out--money worries and the kids and stuff, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know."

Donna wasn't traditionally a worrier. But five years worth of finances, being a single mom, and fretting over her husband potentially not making it out of prison alive, just did that to a woman.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so." Grateful for her offering, though recognizing how damn stubborn his wife was, he conceded. "Thanks, though."

"Anytime. And if you change your mind, or need me, you know where I am--"

"Isla!"

"He is getting on my last fucking nerve today." She groaned, flipping Tig off as she looked over the ledge. "I'm coming! Give me a minute!"

"I've given you plenty of minutes! Just get your ass down here!"

"Just go," Ope chuckled, leaning down to peck her cheek. "We can have this talk another time."

Isla turned back to him, frowning. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Go 'n talk to him--I'll see you tonight."

He was such a nice guy. So considerate, kind.

She loved him a lot.

The flouncy sundress rose to the middle of her thighs as she sauntered through the clubhouse, hearing Trager talking--rather conspicuously, though slightly muffled--to somebody on his cell.

"C'mon, Tiggy. Why'd you yell at me?"

He waved his hand to shut her up, gesturing for the blonde to follow him out of the clubhouse and toward his bike.

"Yeah, cool. K, brother--see 'ya later. Bye." He hung up and slid the phone into the pocket of his cut, swiveling to face Isla with a smile. "You ready?"

"For what?"

"The party?" Tig told her, watching confusion sweep over her face. "I'm taking you over 'cuz you want a drink and don't wanna drive home after? And that you're probably gonna end up heading home with Juice, or something--"

"Juice?"

"It always happens," he shrugged, pointing at the helmet he set out for her at the back of his bike. "We all head out, you get too drunk, you take a liking to Juicy, and you try to ride his dick."

"What?" Isla got herself situated behind him as he got on first, her arms wound around his waist. "That was one time. I've only slept with him once, and I told you it'd never happen again."

"And why is that?"

Her cheeks flushed red, the engine revving sending vibrations through her entire frame.

"Because he was too gentle." Tig's foot collided with the kickstand.

"And the little Catholic girl likes it rough."

She felt the solid gold crucifix burning a hole into her chest.

"Yes. I like it rough." He groaned, leaning into her. She swatted at his chest over his shoulder, laughing heartily. "Just take me to see the baby, dickhead."

The bike sped out of the lot and Isla was loving the thrill of being on two wheels. She'd always liked being stuck to the back of somebody's Harley--but she'd never own one herself.

Isla was like Gemma. She felt stable enough riding with somebody, but riding alone--being in control of the motorcycle--was fucking terrifying.

Jax and Opie had encouraged her to take a ride at one point, but it didn't end very well, and Chibs spent the best part of two hours trying to stitch his daughter back up whilst Gemma castigated the two imbeciles who thought it was even reminiscent of a good idea.

Weaving through traffic gracefully, freely, was appealing to her, however. But she wouldn't be caught dead--alone--on a fucking bike.

Plus, she quite enjoyed being taken places. Escorted by a member of the club. It was safe.

The wind whirred and whipped around them, and she wished she didn't make the effort with her hair tonight. It was ruined, tousled to within an inch of its life, and she dreaded the thought of having to brush the knots out in Jax's bathroom.

Still, commuting via Harley was a hell of a lot quicker and had a few more benefits than commuting via car.

But the looks that they got were piercing. Horrible. Mainly from Hale stationed beside his squad car, watching as Isla and Tig raced down the freeway.

"He likes you." He spoke over the roaring engine when he hit the first stop light all night. "He hates that you've never given him a chance--"

"He's a cop, and I'm the outlaw's daughter. I've been raised to hate his kind."

Tig nodded his approval, setting off once again when the light switched to green and all opposing traffic stood still.

At one strange point in time, David Hale had his sights set on Isla Telford. He was in love with her. Completely besotted.

And she never gave him a second glance because, for one, she wasn't interested. He hated that she was so close to Jax and Opie, but not him, and he wished that she'd push herself away from the bad guys to grow closer to the heroic law-enforcer.

But he was a control freak above everything else, and Isla was just a free-spirit. She was loyal to her friends and family but she didn't want to get tied down, and she didn't want to become friendly with a fucking cop.

The only cop she liked was crooked. And Unser was in a similar spot to her--a little too affiliated with SAMCRO, but not completely doted on. Though, they were both strangely essential fixtures, and Clay would've been lost without them.

"Juice is here." Tig taunted as he helped her off the bike, holding her hand when she stumbled over herself a little. "Try to keep those panties on."

"Can't make any promises, Tiger." Her growl was seductive, though he knew that she was fucking with him.

She'd given up rebuking his claims, instead feeding into them because, with Trager, she couldn't seem to win. He was sleazy, and she loved that back and forth.

What she loved more, though, was that he was comfortable. He was a strange man, and nobody really understood just where he came from, but Isla liked that she could make jokes of any kind around him. He was easy to get along with. Easy to love.

And, man, did she love Alex Trager.

"If you do fuck him, though, would you make a video?"

Isla stepped into Jax's front room, turning on her heels. "Who said that we haven't already got one?"

She chuckled and wandered into the party, leaving Tig with a few convoluted thoughts and even more raunchy questions.

"Fuck. Gemma taught her well." He grumbled under his breath, reaching for the beer in Half-Sack's hand.

He slumped on the couch, motioning for his usual lay to sit in his lap as he watched Juice fawn over his little blonde friend making conversation with some other random woman already.

"Yeah, totally..." she agreed with whatever the girl was saying, but her eyes were glued on Tara. Just floating around the party.

She felt bad that the doctor was alone. Despite all that she thought of her, being out of ones depth in such an intimidating setting wasn't very nice. And Isla was an empath.

"D'ya think anyone 'round here has any nail glue?"

"Gemma might." She smiled, pointing toward the kitchen.

Grateful that she managed to shake that one off, Isla weaved through the small conclave and sat beside Tara, offering a friendly face during a time of such discomfiture.

Her heart was aching, the sheer nervousness was palpable, and she knew that Tara felt the same way too.

But Isla just sucked it up. Because she wanted to talk to her, and had to be the one to initiate it.

"Thanks for coming." Her smile was wide, genuine.

She offered a beer to the brunette, hoping that she'd take it.

"Thanks for asking me here." Tara accepted it, glad that Isla remembered she wasn't particularly a wine girl like herself.

Christ. This is awkward.

"Trust me, you were the first person I asked to come tonight."

"How so?"

"Well," a little bit more comfortably, she faced her completely, "you've literally nursed Abel back to health. You've been there every step of the way. You've been the best surgeon. And, as much as I hate to say it, you helped Wendy so much, Tara. I'm really thankful for all that you've done for this family."

"It's my job." She tried to brush the comments off, but her heart definitely fluttered at the praise.

Isla never changed. She was still the sweetest soul, she thought.

"I know, but you've had it rough with this lot--with Gemma, I mean."

"She isn't anything I can't handle." Confidently, she asserted.

"I know, and I'm glad that you're able to stand your ground." Reluctant, a hand landed against Tara's palm.

She jolted a little bit, but softened into the embrace.

It was comfy, warm. Prosperous, perhaps, because it meant something. Tara not jerking away and leaving once Isla offered a friendly embrace, was promising.

They spoke about the baby for a little while, and shared a few laughs at Tig's expense. It was strange, really. To be talking to her ex-best friend was strange, but she'd missed it.

Donna joined the mix, too, and it was starting to feel like old times. Isla recognized that they'd never slip back into that routine, the dedication to one another that they'd known when they were kids--but it was nice.

The conversation stuttered and it wasn't able to flow as freely as what she might've liked, but it was a start.

To know that she had something resembling an acquaintanceship with two women she admired, was nice.

And Jax introducing his baby to his brand new home, to his extended family that were already so fucking dedicated to him, was just the most wonderful thing ever.

"What about a beer?" Clay joked, holding the bottle close to Abel. Jax laughed, though he shook his hand away. "What? Grandpa can't give him his first beer?"

"No, he can't."

"I'll take it, though. If you're offerin'." Chibs grabbed the Budweiser and twisted the cap with the leather grip of his glove.

He gestured to Isla, tipping it toward her. "Want some?"

"No, you're alright." She went back to her wine, smiling at that little bundle of happiness in Jax's arms, wondering how the hell he'd gotten to be in this position now.

But it was because of Tara. Her commitment, her talent, and sheer want to help that angel through the roughest patch that a baby could have possibly been thrust into.

How Gemma could still loathe that girl--after everything she did--was beyond her completely.

Tara was the unlikeliest hero in Abel's story.

"Why is it that every time I see you, your highlights get more chunky?" Gemma smiled at the comment, turning to see her favorite girl, flaunting the most beautiful smile.

She handed Isla the bottle of whatever wine Chibs could get this evening, unable to quit beaming at the thought of her grandson finally being at home. Where he belonged.

"I told you I'd do them for you, Gem."

"I know," she nodded, playing with a few strands of hair, "I was gonna ask you, but you've been a little distant this week--didn't wanna add to your workload, baby."

"That's super considerate of you. Are you alright?" Isla teased, holding a hand to Gemma's forehead.

She slapped it away with a laugh. "Fuck you. I'm always considerate."

"Sure you are. That's why Wendy is here, right?"

"No," her head shook, "she's here 'cuz this is her house. If I had it my way, she'd be out on her ass faster than what you could even say 'crank whore.'"

Isla wiped at her lips with the back of her hand, tipping her head toward the blonde in the living room.

"I thought you made sure she was gonna be here tonight?" Confused, she quizzed.

She was under the impression that Wendy was starting to grow on her. After she'd tried to kill her, of course.

"I did," Gem confirmed. "But only because I knew it'd be awkward between her and Tara."

Amazed, or maybe fucking horrified, Isla simply glared at her.

It should've been obvious to her--plain as day--that Gemma Teller doing a good thing was simply a bullshit facade, built in order to take away from the fact she wanted to do an inherently bad thing.

But Isla liked to see the good in people, so it wasn't. And that really was one of her mot fatal flaws.

"She thanked me for letting her stay, too."

"And what'd you say to her?" Almost as if she didn't want to know the answer, she asked.

Black nails danced along the rim of her wine glass as she leaned against the counter, watching everybody enjoy themselves as they bitched and moaned.

"That she's lucky to be alive."

"Jesus, Gem," her head shook disparagingly, disappointed perhaps.

But being surprised that the woman made a threatening comment toward Wendy, was just as stupid as being surprised at Tig for fucking another hooker during his free time.

"You've gotta keep her close, ma. She's the mother of your grandson, the woman your son did love at one point."

Ma. The word rolled off her tongue unintentionally most of the time, but she didn't hate it.

Gemma was the mother figure in her life--hell, she was the mother figure in a few of the Sons' lives--and it didn't feel weird using that around her. It was affectionate. She adored it.

"Jax never loved her," matter of fact, she retorted. "They got drunk together. They smoked dope together. They didn't love one another--"

"They got married." Isla reminded her. "They have a kid together. They have a lot of history."

"Just because they have history, doesn't mean they love one another. You've got history with him."

Her chuckle was throaty, almost a full-on splutter. "We have not got that same history--we're friends, Gem, you know that's different."

She supposed the blonde was right.

There was hell of a contrast between friends for life and friends with benefits--and Gemma knew that. She just didn't like that Jax gravitated toward Wendy when he'd always had Isla right there in front of him.

Though, she was more than aware that the pair didn't look at each other that way--she still lauded the thought of the two together.

"I still hate her."

"I know," Isla laughed at Gemma's irritability, sipping on her wine, enjoying the sight of everybody having a damn good time.

"She's checking into rehab, too."

"Really? Where?"

"Some place in Oakland, I think." Gemma added, smiling at Clay when he wandered over to the pair. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"You think she's gonna stick to it?"

"Couldn't tell 'ya." He answered for his wife, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Isla's cheek. "She's determined though, I'll give her that."

"Yeah?" His nod was optimistic--strange for Clay Morrow. "Well, I'm glad she's working on herself, anyway. She's got potential."

"You hate her."

"I know." She didn't refute the assertion. "But I'm still happy for her."

At least somebody is.

She wasn't lying. Wendy was a good girl, a woman tortured for no good reason. And she felt for her, she really did.

It'd been a shock, finding out that she was pregnant. But it wasn't like they weren't expecting it--what with the rate she and Jax were going at it.

From the start, Isla and Gemma were worried. She was notorious for her crank habit and the girls thought she was going to kill herself before she had the chance to see her son into the world.

And that almost happened, didn't it?

The doctors at St. Thomas were fucking miracle workers--Isla was on pins and needles waiting for a call to say that Wendy and Abel were okay.

But she tried not to dwell on that, now. They were both as healthy and Abel was as happy as he could've been, so Isla was content. She wasn't pleased, but she was comfortable with the way that things were going.

Tara, however.

"No!" She yelled, backing out of the nursery. "No, fuck you, Jax."

Juice stumbled backward when she nudged him out of the way, pulling her purse from the kitchen counter.

Isla and Gemma couldn't not stare.

"Tara, c'mon!" Jax called after her, but it was too late.

The front door had been slammed shut and the party came to a complete standstill. A thickening tension was shrouding the group, and things were only just starting to simmer.

"What was that all about?" The blonde asked Juice, leaning against the island.

She didn't want to prove Tig to be right but, after a few glasses of wine, Juan Carlos Ortiz was starting to pique her interests.

He swallowed thickly, watching Clay leave the room. "He said something about Wendy--wanting to keep whatever it is that he and Tara have going on the down low so it doesn't set her off, or something."

Makes sense.

"He has a point. She's doing really well lately." He continued. "Jax would hate to stunt her progress by shoving his relationship with Tara in her face."

Isla was rattled.

Jax hadn't talked to her in days, and she wasn't aware that so much had changed. She wasn't aware that he had established a relationship with Tara Knowles.

Again.

You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another.

She was too irritated to reside in that same room as Gemma, now. Knowing the conversation she'd initiate the second that Juice left was too fucking much. So she left first, instead.

The living room was almost empty. Just Clay, Bobby, Tig, and Chibs sat around the couches as Donna, the kids, and Ope were preparing to set off.

Everything was annoying her, now. She hadn't made the effort with Donna all night, but she was pissed that she hadn't started to say goodbye to her yet.

Isla was so fucking irritated that she didn't even want to talk to Tig, or her father. So she didn't.

"Where're you going, petal?" Chibs asked, hindering her plan to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the night. He knew that she'd crack a smile at the nickname.

"I was just wandering. Not really sure what to do with myself."

"Come sit down," he gestured to the space between himself and Tig, and wound an arm around her when she met the leather. "I've missed 'ya."

"Tonight? Or just in general."

"In general. It's been a few days, love."

"I know, I'm sorry." Her head rested against his Sgt. At Arms patch, and she sighed. "Work has been so fucking busy and I feel like I haven't gotten a moment to myself this week."

Isla only worked a part-time gig at some shitty salon just on the outskirts of Charming--edging into Stockton--but she hated her job.

She hated driving into the city every morning and evening, wasting a fuck ton of her paycheck on gas when, really, there was no point.

She hated her cunt boss.

Hated her cunt clients.

She hated that nobody really spoke to her because of who her father was. And when they did speak to her, it was almost like they were scared. Of Isla.

Gemma had always promised her that there was a space at the auto shop for her had she needed it, but she couldn't think of anything worse than having to answer to Gemma and Clay every single day.

Well, more than what she already was, anyway.

"Who'd 'a thought that being a hairdresser was so demanding?"

"Me, apparently." She joked, watching Tig get up and leave the room.

It'd turned somber. A little too bleak for her liking, but she guessed that everyone felt a bit awkward after Tara stamped out and Jax sat on his porch. Alone. With a bottle of whiskey.

She hated the hold that woman had over him sometimes. The way he was so fucking devoted to Tara Knowles that she could literally slap him, scream in his face, and ruin his son's homecoming party--and he would still pine for her.

She'd never understand that.

And she didn't understand how such a lively bunch of individuals had mellowed out over the course of two hours, either.

The party had disappeared. Dissipated into nothing and the atmosphere she once lauded was completely dead in the water.

It was fucking grim, and she couldn't wait to head home.

"Can I come with you tonight?"

"Why'd you even ask? Y'know you're welcome to come home with your old man whenever you want." Chibs told her a little bit stern, though it was essentially full of love.

She just smiled up at him, a bit buzzed. But she was having a good-ish time and who was he to chastise her for drinking a little too much tonight?

"Wanna head off now?"

"Yeah--lemme just say 'bye' to Gemma."

"Alright, I'll be out front. Don't forget your purse." He reminded, knowing she was too ditsy for her own good.

Chibs helped her to her feet, letting go of her hand only to part ways for a few moments.

Her mood was perking up, now. The prospect of being able to spend a few hours with her dad after a long fucking day, was just the best.

And she'd really missed him. Missed the time they once had an abundance of. Missed the evenings that they'd spend talking, drinking, watching movies, doing the generic father daughter activities.

They hadn't had that for a while, and it was truly a blessing that it was within reach tonight.

Well. It was within reach for all of five minutes.

"Oh my God--" Gemma's cell slipped from between black nails and bounced across the table. Saturated hues were locked on Isla, and her head shook.

"What?"

"There's--there's been an accident." She managed to muster out. "Or, maybe a drive-by, I don't know, but Donna--"

"Donna?" Piney's attention was snatched at the mention of his daughter-in-law. He stood up. "What about her?"

Isla knew the answer. She knew what Gemma was going to say because it was just the usual now, wasn't it?

Being affiliated with SAMCRO just did that to somebody. Man, woman, child. They didn't fucking care.

"She's--Piney, she's dead."

[playinonaloop]

Chapter 4: Save us

Warning throughout the series: (mentions of) smut, violence, drugs, alcohol, guns, maffia stuff, ya know!

Story masterlist

A warm wind blew onto Daniels ‘s face as he ran out into the garden. He blew out air through his nose while he crouched down. To torture you was one thing, but to kill you? Daniel knew that only would bring death and destruction to his family. His body became hot as the world started to spin around him. Daniel’s heart started to race, blood pounding in his ears. He sat down and tried to grab the small stones of the gravel path beneath him.

Thoughts were spinning through his head; his mother had really gone mad. She was really planning to kill you, for something as simple as money. Daniel knew that there was more to it than just money. He knew his family was tied up into something bigger than he could ever imagine. Why did you get left behind? Was this a way to get underneath the skin of his parents? Why didn’t they leave Joey? Were you something your family thought of as less, just as his family did?

Everybody in the Ricciardo family knew that his sister, Michelle, was going to be the next one to lead the family. Her being older, and perhaps more twisted, aided to that. She fitted right into the way his family portrayed themselves. Daniel didn’t use drugs like they did, he didn’t drink alcohol. He didn’t enjoy torturing like they did. In every aspect he was different than them. Joe, his dad, was in many ways like him but, because he married Grace, he changed to her liking. And with that, Joe didn’t hold her back in the things she did.

Daniels ‘s breath slowed down again as he got a grip of the stones beneath him. He threw them away from him as he took deep breaths to calm down again. After a short moment, he stood up and turned around to take a look at the house. His brown eyes scanned the house, taking it in. The big windows, balconies with lounge sets on them. A curtain that blew out of a window. Daniel walked back a bit to see the enormous roof with some small towers on top of it. He knew that it wasn’t normal to live in such a mansion. With that thought on his mind, he walked back inside.

--

Soft whimpers left your mouth as the pain became unbearable. The sun was now high up in the sky which meant that Daniels ‘s visit had been a few hours ago. You hadn’t had food or something to drink in a while now, in combination with being tortured it made you feel awful. The smell of dried blood was starting to make your head spin. As you looked down you saw that your jeans were drenched in blood. This made you close your eyes shortly; you knew you had lost a lot of blood.

When you opened your eyes, you knew you had slipped out of consciousness for a bit. The sun was starting to set. It marked the end of day four, making it almost five days since you saw your family. God, you hated this situation. A frustrated groan left your mouth as you thought about the last moments before you went on this stupid mission. Eating breakfast with your parents and Joey, giving your dog Katy a last cuddle before leaving. Tears started to well up in your eyes. You knew that you were going to die here if your family didn’t show up tomorrow. As a family you had mutually decided that, if there wasn’t an option to save one of them within the first five days of being kidnapped or left behind, you didn’t get saved. It took too much risk to come and save someone who might actually be dead due to starvation, torture or even murder. Yes, it was a very hard choice to accept. But it had to be done, to save the family.

The door behind you opened. It made you sit up, hoping someone came to bring you something to eat and drink. You realized that it wasn't a food delivery by the way the person moved through the room. Another set of footsteps joined.

"We're giving you another chance to 'fess up"

Michelle her voice cut through the air, a shiver running up your spine as Grace walked towards the windows. You quickly saw the gun she was carrying. It made you realize this could end in two different ways. You could either tell them or die. A smile played your mouth as another idea popped up in your mind.

"Okay"

"Okay?"

It made Michelle walk towards you, Grace turned around with a frown on her face.

"Yeah, I'm dying either way"

Grace scoffed and smiled. She let go of the gun.

"Clever girl..."

You told them this big story, how your parents decided they would legalize weed as they grew it on the farm back north of Queensland. To what degree they went to flood the now legal market. How they profited of it, making them become wealthier than they had ever been. You told them in detail where the farm was, Michelle left the room to send an investigator up there. Grace just stared at you. In dismay.

“I can’t believe you would betray your family like that.”

“Well, they left me here to die. Didn’t they?”

Hatred fueled your eyes, and they believed your story.

“I’ll make sure they get your regards”

Grace left. You took a deep breath in, shaking your fear out of you. The farm you talked about was an empty shell. Your family didn’t use it, as it used to be an old family home. It was completely empty. A giggle left your mouth, it was all a lie. The Ricciardo’s weren’t going to win in any way. You were going to die anyway, now or in 80 years.

You looked out of the window, staring into the abyss as a few hours passed by. It turned completely dark outside. The door behind you opened but you were too tired to respond.

It was Daniel that sat in front of you. A knife in his hands. You knew it was time. A tear slipped out of your eye, making you nudge your shoulder to your cheek. He didn't look at you.

"So ironic that you are the one to..." You scoffed softly.

Daniel looked up at you. Your eyes met and it was electrifying. Now that he was sitting here in front of you, you had time to take him in. Thinking that he would be the last thing you would see because you weren't sure if there was anything like an afterlife, your eyes slid over his head. You could see how messy his curls were, almost identical to how they were this morning. A number of curls had slumped to the side, as if they were too heavy to hold. You would always remember his sun-tanned head, that's how he used to look. The wrinkles around his eyes that no doubt came from laughing all the time. The beard that made him look older than he was. You looked further down. A muscular body, dressed in a simple black t-shirt and shorts. Daniel didn't wear socks, also something he never did. You now saw the rose on his hand, you recognized it from somewhere.

"How long do you have that rose?"

"I don't know, since 2018 I think, why?"

"No, it's nothing, thought I recognized it"

"Oh"

The silence came back, and it became unbearable.

"If you aren't going to kill me, just do it"

He stood up, playing with the knife. Daniel looked back and forth between you and the door. It made you want to cry, because he made your ending so much longer than it needed to be. That also made you angry. You could feel death lingering over you, his hands were playing with the knife as if it was a lego block, something as innocent as that.

“Can’t you see how fucked up this is?”

“Well how am I supposed to go on then?!” You looked up at him, despair in your eyes. This was the moment that would break or make your or his family.

Drawing blood from his hands as he twists the knife in his hands and looked away at the closed door.

You were starting to get annoyed with him. He was prolonging your life for what?

"Daniel, look at me damn it!"

He finally looked at you. Really looked at you. His eyes weren't blank anymore. Instead, you saw something you didn't recognize.

"I remember swimming with you and your brother, you know. Almost every summer behind the cliffs where we used to ride to from your house."

You raised an eyebrow as he started talking about something from the past. He continued.

"I remember playing hide and seek while our parents had meetings together. I recall sitting with you on the swing."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"A few years ago, I had the most wonderful night. It was a night out with friends. After a few drinks I decided to get on the dance floor. The club played the greatest hits but also a few from the past. While dancing, I saw the prettiest girl. High heels, a sleeveless dress, just up to my liking. Long legs, long hair and smelled like freshly cut watermelon with a hint of smoke but it didn't overwhelm me. "

You knew where this was going. Daniel was now face to face with you, close. Now you recognized the smell, sweet like a candy shop but also the saltiness from the sea.

"We danced for quite a bit, my hands roaming her body freely. Kissing her neck. She grabbed my hand, where I had a rose. A rose just like this one."

He shows you his hand. Not too close to your face to make sure he didn't cut you with the knife he held.

"It was a fake tattoo at the time, you know, some a temporary tattoo that you stick on with a wet cloth."

Daniel smiled as he bent down.

"My friend whispered to me that I was dancing with the devil."

A chuckle left his mouth. He sat on the floor in front of you.

"I was dancing with you, he had seen your face and made me leave. Again I was disturbed in being who I wanted to be. I wanted to be carefree, to live without the responsibility of being a member of the fucking maffia!"

His hand drove the knife into the wooden floor. It cracked. You tried to shuffle your chair backwards, afraid he would drive the knife in your leg next. Daniel looked up at you.

"My parents do not find me important enough to take me with them in most of the family meetings. They take Michelle. But in the last few days I've realized something. It's okay that they don't. Because I do not want to be like them."

Daniel pulled the knife out of the floor.

"I. Want. Out!"

He spoke through gritted teeth, moving the knife towards your leg.

"So, this is the plan. I will act like I killed you but obviously will not kill you. Then I will wrap the blanket, that's laying by the door, around you and I will carry you to the car. I'll go back inside to tell my parents that I am going to dispose of your body. I'll show them a picture of you in the blanket. In my car I have two fake passports, because we need to talk."

Daniel cut all the ropes around your feet, body and wrists. You were speechless to say the least. He walked to get the blanket and grabbed another bottle of something.

"Can you lay on top of it, I've got some fake blood I will put on your chest and onto the knife and then some on the blanket so it will be realistic."

You just looked at him, rubbing your wrists. The wounds on your stomach hurt.

"Why are you saving me?"

"Because, I reckon, you want out too. Now lay down, we don't have much time"

Daniel put a hand on your shoulder and softly pushed you towards the blanket. You sat and laid down carefully. He put some fake blood on your chest and on the knife. A little pool of blood was quickly created, but it was mixed with your own. Some of the cuts on your stomach opened, making you groan.

"Okay, okay, eyes closed; just a second."

He took the photo and put it in his back pocket.

"So just lay there for a minute. I've got some medical stuff to help you with the.. duh.."

Daniel looked visibly distressed.

"You don't have to talk about it"

Your voice was soft, making him look at you instead of the cuts. He grabbed Betadine and some bandages.

"It might hurt"

"Just do it, the proces of making them hurt even worse"

He looked hurt at the way you snapped at him.

"Sorry"

"No, it's okay"

Daniel gave you his hand before he put the Betadine on. You squeezed it hard, making you clench your jaws as he cleaned it a bit. He then bandaged it.

"I'm now going to wrap you up and carry you to the car"

Before you knew you were in the trunk of the car. It was dark, cold and to be quite frank; scary. You laid there for a bit, refueling yourself with small bites of the sandwich Daniel made and drinking a bit of water. The car started to drive away, making you grip the flooring of the trunk to hold on. You rest your head against the bag that laid in the trunk too. After a while, you slipped into a nap.

"Hey, you still with me?"

You opened your eyes and met Daniel who was very close to your face. It made you shuffle backwards. "Sorry, I'm just glad you're awake. Shall I help you get out?" "Yes, uh, please." Daniel grabbed your hands and helped you up. He briefly shielded your head as you came up and nearly hit the edge of the trunk. "I brought you some clothes to put on, because what you're wearing now can't be called clothes anymore." He handed you a bag and then walked away to the lookout point where we were parked. You looked around briefly before opening the bag. The bag was full of clothes, short-sleeved shirts, long-sleeved shirts, sweaters, jeans, sweatpants. You name it or it was in there. The cold had now crept into your bones, so you opted for layers. A short-sleeved shirt with a sweater over it. Jeans with a sweater over it. Daniel had even thought of clean underwear.

"You can turn around now, I'm dressed."

Daniel turned back to you and took you in.

His face showed signs of complete horror. "I'm so sorry." A tear rolled down his cheek. He collapsed, causing you to walk right up to him. He cried. Tears also slowly streamed down your cheeks. He put his arms around you. You cried together. After a while the tears were gone.

"What now?" "I need to let my parents know that I'm fine and that I'm free." "And after that?" "After that we'll see what we're going to do"

He smiled at you, it made you smile back. You were free, you were safe. Daniel saved you and himself in the proces.

"Can I suggest one thing we can do?"

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Can I kiss you?"

His voice was soft and nervous. Daniel kept smiling a little, with a little blush on his cheeks.

"Yeah"

"Yeah?"

You nodded.

"Okay"

Daniel stepped closer to you, the space between you now almost non existent. His hot breath fanned over your face. He looked down at you, scanning your eyes again. You took in that rich smell of cologne that he wore. It was as if the night at the club continued. But then in silent. His eyes looked into yours. They seemed lighter in color in the moonlight. The dark ring around his iris was a great contrast to the amber color inside. His pupils were large because of the lack of light in the area. Daniel surprised you by letting his lips gently touch yours. His hand found its place on your cheek, he gently rubbed it with his thumb. He tasted fresh, almost like he just brushed his teeth. It made you realized he had a mint before. Daniel had planned everything which made you giggle against his lips.

[monscastle]

"you're still eating out of y/n's hands you know."

he choked, the only thought in his mind being 'no wonder this tastes familiar.'

pairing ; lee felix x gn! reader

for ; @writearctic 's chronicles!!

genre ; angst & fluff

warnings ; mild cursing, smoking

words ; 1.6k

author's note ; not today! just enjoy and feel free to give feedback!! sorry for any mistakes!! 

"hey, let's go eat." chan smiled while pressing up against the other australian.

felix hummed, not really listening as he gripped the remote in his hands and flickered the buttons with his thumbs. "where?"

"uh, that one restaurant that's like, thirty minutes away from here-"

felix glanced a glare at chan before turning back to the screen of the tv. "any reason?"

"they have a special." chan then proceeded to put he flyer in front of felix's line of sight, making the younger grunt.

felix paused his game, sighing and glaring at his friend. "alright, fine. but you're paying." 

chan grinned, "fine by me. get dressed and look decent, don't pull a jisung." 

"...i'm right here." 

______

"hello! table for three?" the host asked as soon as they walked inside. 

chan nodded, following the host with his two friends. as soon as they sat down they were handed menu's. 

"would you like to order drinks right now or when you order your food?" 

felix scanned the options, not seeing the special that chan had mentioned. he was gonna question the older until said man asked the host about it. 

"uh, i saw that y'all have a special on a flyer…" 

"oh! yes we do! we got the word out this morning, that's why it's still not on the menu. the special lasts until next friday. would you like to order that?"

"do you guys want it?" chan turned to them. 

"what's the special?" jisung rose a brow. 

the host smiled, "fettuccine alfredo pasta." 

felix hummed, thinking about it. "yeah i'd like that."

"me too." 

chan nodded, turning to the host who took out a notepad and pen. although she wasn't a waiter, she could take down orders and hand them over to the cooks. 

"great. any drinks?" she asked while tapping her notepad with the tip of the pen.

jisung nodded, "peach tea for me." 

"i'll take lemonade." 

"sprite if you have that." 

she nodded and scribbled it down before repeating their order to make sure she didn't make any mistakes. once everything was confirmed and settled,  she excused herself to order their assigned waiter to fetch their drinks. 

jisung followed her trail until she opened the kitchen doors, noticing something- more like someone, for a split second. 

"well, while we wait, let's catch up." chan sighed while staring at his friends.

"on what?" jisung asked while turning to him. 

the older thought for a second before shrugging, "i don't know, what have you guys been up to lately?"

felix propped his elbow on the table,  resting his chin on his palm. "nothing, i'm enjoying my break to the fullest."

"by being locked up and playing video games?" chan rose a brow, obviously disappointed. 

"at least he's doing something, i've been sleeping most of the time." 

"he only gets up when he needs to pee or eat." felix chuckled. 

chan frowned, "that explains a lot…" 

"anyway, what about you? changbin-hyung told me someone had the hots for you and vice versa." 

the older sputtered, "th-that's not true. and maybe it's just a new friend." 

jisung and felix rose a brow, sharing a glance before sighing. they had the habit of being synchronized without wanting to, which many found scary and or amusing. 

"you're bad at lying, you know that?" jisung chuckled, glancing at the kitchen doors that opened as a waiter came out with a tray with drinks. he smirked at his confirmation,  it's been a while since he's been this entertained. 

chan blushed, avoiding eye contact. "i know…" 

felix laughed, jisung was known for reading others. changbin was known for it too, and it was always funny when someone got exposed or confronted. 

the waiter walked up to them, placing down their drinks. "your food is ready and i'll bring it right now, i'm sorry the sudden delay in your drinks, we had a minor...issue." 

"no it's fine! thank you!" chan smiled as he took his drink and sipped from it. 

jisung stared at the kitchen doors, once they were opened he tried to find the familiar face, and he smirked to himself when he saw it. he wasn't going to say anything yet, he liked waiting it out. 

"so, who is it?" felix jabbed at chan, wanting answers.

"i- you don't know him, he's not in your major." chan nibbled at the straw. 

"and? i still wanna know." 

"it's probably someone older than him, maybe by a year? let me guess, he's also studying music production? and you met him in the cafeteria." jisung smiled when chan choked. 

felix stared at his roomate in awe, "holy fuck." 

chan gasped, staring at jisung with wide eyes. "you scare me. you're hanging out with minho aren't you?" 

"sure." 

"what do you mean sure-" 

felix grinned, "so he's right?" 

"...yeah… i'm amazed you even guessed the gender…" chan pouted, gnawing at the straw again. 

"thank you, i try." jisung sipped from his drink as the waiter returned with their food. once the waiter left he spoke again, "what's his name?" 

"why are you asking?" 

"cus it's about time you had a love life." felix rolled his eyes,  "you barely get sleep, and now you have the hots for someone? you need to go out and live a little. " 

chan scoffed, the tips of his ears still red. "yeah, look who's talking. you're probably staying inside the dorms and not going out cus you're still upset about the y/n situation." 

jisung gaped, amazed chan could strike like that. "not wrong-" 

felix growled, "y/n has nothing to do with how i'm spending my break. we broke up, that's it. nothing more nothing less to it. no hard feelings." he frowned and stuffed his mouth with some pasta, the taste making him pause and ponder.

jisung stared at the young australian, "you're still eating out of y/n's hands you know." 

and he choked, the only thought in his mind being  'no wonder this tastes familiar.' 

chan gave felix's back a few pats, " jisung stop joking around." 

said male frowned, "i'm not. y/n's in the kitchen, pretty sure y/n is the one who cooked the food." 

felix heaved, "it...does taste familiar…

"and to think you were over y/n.." 

"i am!" 

"are not, but we'll talk about this later. chan, you never told me the guys name-" 

"yah! i'm not telling." 

________ 

"you're not going back with us?" jisung asked as they exited the restaurant.  

the fact y/n was one of the chefs was forgotten once they went back to chan's possible love life topic. felix didn't really think anything of it until they got up to leave. 

"no i wanna check out that store. i'll go back on the bus." felix waved them off. 

chan frowned, "sure, ok… call if you need anything." 

"will do." 

jisung rolled his eyes, following chan to the older's car for the ride home. felix walked inside the store that was across the restaurant they had eaten at, he looked around, heart racing. 

he saw a small penguin plushie, smiling at it's fluffiness once he grabbed it. he made sure he had money before going to the register, paying and walking out. just as he did, he glanced at the restaurant and saw you. 

you stood there, lighting up a cigarette. when you glanced at him, you froze, both of you did. 

felix gripped the bag in his hand. it's been a month since the two of you broke up, quite a small amount of time considering everything. 

the reason the two of you ended things was no mystery to eithers friend group. you had suddenly gotten distant, claiming to focus on exams, which wasn't a lie. felix grew upset with the absence of you, and whenever he tried to reach out, you sounded uninterested.  

and it wasn't that you weren't,  you were just going through things. felix took it the wrong way, and the tip of the iceberg was when he saw you all touchy with someone else at a party you had said you wouldn't attend. 

instead of facing you, he played fire with fire. 

"hi…" your voice was soft, and you stared across from you, not wanting to face him. 

"hi." felix now stood next to you, staring across the street as well. 

there was a silence, and felix then glanced at the puff of smoke you let out. he was questioning himself, maybe he should go and wait for the last bus. maybe he should have gone back home with his friends. maybe-

"i'm sorry." 

felix snapped his head towards you, staring at you like a lost puppy. you were still facing across the street, cigarette in hand. 

"i'm sorry i didn't face you like i should have. i'm sorry i didn't talk things through with you… i really have no justifications for anything i did. maybe i was just confused, we were both just trying to pass our classes..you were just trying to make our relationship work… and i...i… " 

"you gave up." felix finished your sentence, now staring at the bag in his hands. 

you finally turned to look at him, "no... i got bored of trying. i got bored of us. of you."

each word made felix stagger, and you took a second to grab his hand, holding it gently. he blushed, staring down at your hand on his. 

"but i didn't want to let go of you." 

he swallowed, "then why did you…" 

"that's…a good question." you let go of his hand, and he was quick to take it again. 

"i'm sorry too. i think...we lacked communication." 

you smiled a bit, taking the cigarette in your mouth again.  "obviously...”

felix squeezed you hand, “do you think...we could try again?”

“you don’t hate me?”

he shook his head, “we were both at fault, do you hate me?”

“no....”

“so...wanna start from zero?”

you sighed, the puff of smoke intoxicating his nostrils. you didn’t pick up on smoking until after the two of you broke up, “yeah...i’d like that.”

“me too...and...jisung said you cooked our food, that true?”

“felix, i have no idea who comes into the restaurant. i just do my job.” you laughed softly, shaking your head, “but i’m the only cook today, so yeah, i guess i did. you enjoy it?”

he nodded, “i always enjoyed your food, still do.”

you tugged at his hand, “want a ride home?”

“yeah...”

[novoplata]

Of BJ Penn and Roy Dean.

Back in my BJJ days, I used to have a teammate (can't recall his name) who would only come train once or twice a month. When he did, he'd always reek of alcohol and tobacco and anyone could tell that he could be in much better shape if only he tried.

This guy, however, would never miss taking part in local tournaments, which were so few and far in between those days (circa 2011-2013). Surprisingly, despite his seemingly lack of preparation and questionable fitness, he would always smoke the competition and would always end up on the podium -- which would later be a subject of everyone's awe and amazement post-comp.

When it comes to me being competitive, my former teammate and coach said it best: "You're actually quite good, but in competitions you suck". Ouch. But it's so true.

Over this last decade as an off-again-on-again recreational athlete, I've had different coaches trying to get me to compete. I'd tell them over again that I suck at competing and no matter how good I am in a training setting, you will never see that translated on the competition floor. Exhibit A, yesterday when I couldn't even push jerk 50kg, which I would consider a weight that I can roll out of bed and push overhead at any given day. I guess everyone has their own 'athletic handicap' and this is mine.

I've had this discussion with another friend years ago who said that athletes (in the martial arts' context) are probably divided between two ends of the spectrum: the BJ Penns and the Roy Deans. The BJ Penns are the ones who always train less than you do, sometimes lead questionable lifestyles, have crappy diet, and still smoke you in competitions. These people are the great athletes -- prodigies if you may -- whom we'd often idolise.

The Roy Deans are the ones who'd approach athletic pursuits in a more cerebral way. Like Roy Dean, whose competitive resume is not well-known, these athletes would rather be technicians of the sport who enjoy learning about what works and what doesn't, instead of what would increase their chances of winning in a competitive setting.

Compared to the BJs, the Roys would probably make better coaches. As I've learned from experience, better athletes don't necessarily make better coaches.

I've been team Roy Dean all my life. Now two weeks into my strength cycle, I'm amazed by how much more nimble and pain-free my knees have felt, even with reasonably heavy squat sessions thrice a week.

My main reason for going on a strength cycle of course is to fix the root cause of my knee pain: weak glutes and overall posterior chain, which puts more pressure on my knees. As my posterior chain gets stronger, I experience lesser knee and lower back pain too. It's only week 1 and I'm already feeling (and seeing) all the benefits.

Then of course, I would like to be able to power clean heavier loads, which requires a heavier squat, and also get a better-looking booty on my inverted-triangle body shape.

Am I doing it to outsquat someone else? Hell no. Everyone's bodies and athletic abilities are different. There's probably a girl somewhere in this world who only weighs 100lbs, doesn't train as much and yet still can squat twice as heavy as me. Yes, it's really unfair but there's nothing I can do about that. I can only focus on me.

So yeah, in a world of athletes who strive to become champions. I'll choose to be on the sideline instead -- laser-focused on just being a better me today than yesterday.