#a divorce or whatever and being like oh the world is so meaningless...

[cuubism]

Obviously it just means you should write a Shadowhunters x Sandman crossover fic ;)

perhaps 😆 perhaps

while i've read a few that i enjoyed i'm not sure i could ever actually write one simply because... sandman is a much more mature story, imo. don't get me wrong, people in sh fandom have written fics with a more mature tone and approach than what's in canon (i'd even venture to say most fics are more mature than canon (tho that's biased as it's based on what i've chosen to read), something about the show seems to have attracted writers who want to dissect it down to its bones and reassemble something more adult from the pieces, or delve into the more serious ideas the show touches on but doesn't fully explore). and the show is aged up and somewhat darker than the books, i think. but the story itself is inherently YA and has that in its bones, and sandman does not.

which is not a ding against shadowhunters at all, YA is great and stories aimed at young adults are great. YA gets a lot of flack but only because it's become somewhat repetitive as big publishers try to capitalize on a few big and original hits by replicating with similar stories. there's nothing inherently wrong with stories meant as a sort of middle ground between children's stories and adult stories, and nothing wrong with people of all ages enjoying YA. (of course, even children's stories can be quite serious and dark, especially classic fairy tales and such, categories are nebulous, and so on, but hopefully you get what i mean). it's just coming from a different place, and intent? i think? than sandman and that makes them hard for me to merge.

sandman is... well, i still need to get around to reading the comics, and from what i have heard the show's approach thus far is somewhat gentler. but it's still... a darker story, a more serious story, and a story that is very much not coming from a YA perspective. as i said, more mature, more complex. there's a tonal clash when i think about mixing them, for all that there IS a lot of overlap in character tropes, genre, and the elements of the story world between sandman and shadowhunters -- which is probably why a lot of sh people were drawn in. but yeah i could feel myself slipping out of sh fandom even before getting pulled into sandman for exactly this reason -- as my tastes have matured shadowhunters was just not fulfilling my interests anymore, so the moment my brain encountered something that was it latched on 😆 new enrichment in the enclosure, the creature got tired of playing with treat balls and needed a puzzle game instead.

that's more of an answer than you were probably wanting

[wndaswife]

hi!! idk if the requests are open but i was thinking of a taylor x reader story where they’re married with a little girl around the same time as the movie but taylor has been too obsessed with her social media/influencer life and that caused a crisis in their relationship. you could include a divorce/breakup too with a happy ending btw

-🎈

taylor sloane & fem!reader

tags: angst, hopeful ending

summary: Everything bursts one evening after months of unease and passive aggressive tension between you and your wife.

“Celeste’s parent-teacher night thing is tomorrow,” you say from the washroom as you rub your moisturiser into your face. “If you’re still gonna be out with Ingrid and Harley before it starts, just get dropped off at her school and we can meet there.”

There’s no response from Taylor for a few moments and you look into the bedroom at her, anticipating a response. She’s sitting at the edge of the bed in a skimpy pink nightgown. The light from her phone screen is cast onto her face as she types a quick caption for her Instagram post.

She tips her head up slightly and finally responds asking, “What time is it at again?”

You press the tip of your tongue into your cheek in annoyance and repress a roll of your eyes. “We talked about you going three days ago,” you answer. Irritation was implied in your response but Taylor doesn’t pick up on it.

She lays back across the bed, her legs hanging off of the edge. “Yeah, but whatever, I just forgot,” she says.

You place your hands on the sink counter and lean forward, looking at your wife scornfully. “It’s at eight. Will Celeste and I have the pleasure of seeing you there, Taylor?” you inquire bitterly, tipping your head to the side.

“If Nick doesn’t get shit-faced drunk,” she says with a lighthearted scoff. 

Now feeling your irritation bubble up into something unmanageable, you snap, “Taylor, are you fucking kidding?”

She looks up from her phone and sits up with a bewildered expression. “What?” she answers incredulously. “You want me to just fuck off and leave my brother at some bar? You know how he gets.”

You turn off the washroom light and step into the bedroom. “That’s not the fucking point! We made a deal. We talked about you coming tomorrow,” you snap, your hands emphasising your anger. Taylor drops her hands and her phone lays in her laps. She regards you with a scrutinising expression. “I told you about it a month ago and asked you three days ago to make sure you could still go,” you say.

She shrugs and exhales humorlessly through her nose. “Okay, well, my plans changed. Why does it matter? You’re going, aren’t you?”

“Oh my god,” you scoff and straighten to run your hands through your hair. “How can you possibly not be understanding this? Taylor. We made a deal. You made a promise. You said you would go. You don’t just get to leave your wife and your daughter to do some stupid meaningless shit with other people.”

Taylor curses under her breath and rolls her eyes. “So, what? Give up what’s important to me just to do whatever you want me to?”

“You cancel on Celeste and I all the time. You care about promotional events and parties and your social standing that means jackshit in the real world more than just being home with us. With me,” you say. You inhale a shaky breath and you hope Taylor can’t hear it. “It feels like… we’re just not the most important thing to you anymore. I mean… are we?”

“Okay, okay, fine,” she concedes out of exerted pressure and some feeling of obligation. “I’ll be home before eight so we can go together with Celeste. Okay? Does that make you happy?”

You don’t respond and Taylor takes this as your understanding. She puts her phone on the nightstand and pushes the blankets to the side to get in. She looks up at you expectantly. “Okay, get in. Come on. Stop being annoying,” she urges. She pulls the blankets on your side of the bed back and gestures for you to come lay down.

“Taylor…” you exhale and rub your forehead with the tips of your fingers. “I think we need to take a break.”

“Wh…” She laughs, a twinge of nerves peeking through the way her eyebrows furrowed. “What? A break?” She straightens in bed.

You just look away and run a hand through your hair, standing in the weight of your words. It was the truth — you wanted a break, wanted to stop trying to get Taylor to care about things and people she didn't care about as much as you wished she did.

She climbs out of bed and walks towards you. “You… You can’t just take a break from your wife, Y/N,” she says as if trying to rationalise your resolve away. 

“I need time,” you answer. “I’ll just… stay at Dan’s for a while. I don’t want to keep trying to make you prioritise us more than ‘what’s important to you.’”

“So you’re just going to… to leave? Celeste? And me?” she asks. You can’t tell if you only imagined the way her voice trembled slightly when she spoke or if she sincerely was concerned.

“I won’t leave. I’m still going to see the both of you, but I just need space, and I think you need it too. I don’t want to push you into doing anything. And I’m tired of forcing you.”

Taylor looks at you for a few silent seconds, her stare solemn and perhaps even remorseful. She knows she’s been treating you unfairly. She knows she’s been a bitch. She looks down at the floor and swallows. “Okay,” she says finally and you know for sure this time that her voice is trembling. “But tonight… you’ll stay?” She looks up at you.

You meet her eyes and nod. She manages a smile and hesitantly lifts her hand before taking yours into hers. The both of you get into bed and you lay beside each other in the bedroom that was now devoid of light apart from the dim moonlight outside shrouded by the curtains and overhead clouds.

Through the dark of the bedroom, Taylor’s eyes are pinned on yours, her body buried in blankets. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” she utters quietly. “I know I’ve been absent. And terrible to you. I don’t mean to. I just don’t pay attention. I get caught up and only realise when it’s too late. Or when you tell me.”

You turn your head, looking away from the ceiling and towards your wife. “I know. It’s just hard.” She inhales and turns her face towards the pillow, ashamed. You move onto your side and wrap an arm around her torso, pulling her against your chest. She rounds her hand to your back and curls her body against you. “The break will be good for us. If we try, things can get better. We’ll work at it, okay?” you tell her.

Taylor sniffles then nods. You cradle the back of her neck and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Okay,” she says. “And then I’ll have you back.”

[knyplotrewrite]

Red Light District (a criticism post ig)

This is a sort of collection of my thought processes while coming up with RLD for my rewrite. Canon RLD is just... oh boy.

CW: discussions of misogyny, prostitution, abuse, just a lot, proceed with caution!

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I want to sorta begin with my initial complaints regarding the canon version of RLD, specifically with its exploration of Yoshiwara. Here is a neat funky list of my complaints to keep this short and simple:

Very shallow exploration of the treatment of courtesans in brothels

Basically no discussion of exploitation of young girls sold into servitude

No discussion of the view on women in general by Japanese society during this time period

Refusal in openly talking about sex

All of these promoting the idea of red light districts being “ooh fun places” and not flawed institutions deserving of criticism

There’s also the crossdressing thing which is just wtf and could have been completely avoided by the way (look up Taikomochi, the KMBK trio literally could have been sent in as these guys or musicians but nope), but that’s a small problem compared to the bigger issue of Gotouge reducing the red light district to pretty colors and just another setting for an epic battle.

It completely divorces this from the actual history of brothels being kinda shitty places in general (not just in the poor brothels that Gyutaro and Daki grew up in). I get that this is a shounen manga/anime and talking about sex or whatever was probably looked down on by publishers, but it really makes me wonder why the hell they’d choose an area for an arc that is primarily known for offering sexual services and not talk about the main thing that they serve... it doesn’t make sense, right?

I don’t work for Gotouge or Shounen Jump so I’m not going to make any assumptions, just put the possibility out there as one of my main theories it ended up so shallow in the first place. You can’t exactly talk about how girls and courtesans in these brothels are treated as objects of desire and nothing else but not talk about the sexual aspect. It kinda falls apart. Anything Daki or Gyutaro says about being beautiful in a world where that paints your worth would have been made infinitely more stronger if the characters could actually talk about sex, too, so rip to that bit of potential.

(Also can I mention there is not a single moment where two characters openly share a kiss in the manga? I find that baffling to be honest.)

Even in the anime, they didn’t fix the really shallow/practically nonexistent discussions about sexual exploitation and misogyny in brothels, and both the anime and manga really just focused on how Daki was a bully to the servants and courtesans. Like... okay. Sure, you can have characters being abusive in brothels, but that’s the only conflict in the arc prior to the battle.

I don’t know man, the only good thing canon RLD has going for it is the battle part of the arc. Any set up or themes or messages in the stuff before it is honest to god, absolutely meaningless.

[philsbrownquiff]

the dangers of premarital divorce

guess what I wrote something!!!

words: 1702

summary: A reflection on all the years that Dan's commitment issues have motivated him in various ways, and how realizing he accidentally is planning on spending 20 more years with Phil is maybe a bit scary.

It had started years ago really, back in Manchester. They had always talked about the future, but never too far into it. But, like it is with all young loves, he had the idea of forever in the back of his head. He would sit with Phil watching anime, eating dinner quietly, laughing while playing video games, and he would think, "This could be my life. This could be how it is every day."

And of course he didn't really share these thoughts at first. They were almost too intimate to verbalize. They were intimidating. They were meant for late at night when he was by himself thinking about life at 3 AM. That was the only time he could really entertain them for any amount of time. They were filled with laughter and loving embraces and all of the things he had come to associate with spending the day with Phil. And it was good. He had never met anyone like Phil, and he intended to hold on as long as Phil would let him. And that was how it would inevitably end: Phil wouldn't let him. That's how it always was in his head. He was just holding onto the coattails of life, undeserving, and would therefore eventually be left in the dust as soon as he let up his grip.

The first time he realized that he might not actually need to be clinging on so tightly was when Phil had asked him to move in with him. It was so casual. They were laying together in bed one night with Dan's head perched on Phil's shoulder, his body tucked safely into the crook of his arm.

"Would you want to move in with me next year?" He had said, suddenly in the quiet.

Dan froze. Fucking of course he would want to move in. That was his ideal life, actually. But he was suddenly overcome with emotion that he wasn't able to process, and so he just froze for a few seconds, willing his brain to catch up. After what he is sure was an entire lifetime, he sputtered out a "y-yes, I would actually." He could feel Phil relax, even though he hadn't really been able to tell he was tense in the first place. Dan glanced up and saw the somewhat relieved and very much in love grin on Phil's face. It was a reminder that maybe Phil was clinging on tightly as well.

This was the first real time that Dan had realized maybe Phil wanted forever just as much as him. Which, in turn, would cause another problem for his undeserving and overthinking brain: who gave them the authority to decide. Up until now, it had been Phil that was deciding if they would stay together. It was Phil that would decide if Dan could continue to exist with him, because he so obviously wanted it. So if Phil was deciding that yes, he wanted to be with Dan for at least another year, that meant something else was going to stop them. He just had to figure out what it was.

The thing he decided would stop them was the world at large. Homophobia. Tabloids. Their fans. All of it would eventually combine and become too much. They would fall apart at the seams that Dan had tried so hard to re-enforce. It wouldn't be enough. One day, Phil would get tired of hiding or Dan would get so fed up with all of it that he would lash out in a way they wouldn't be able to recover from. And eventually, he thought it was happening. He had so fully convinced himself that this was inevitable, that he basically welcomed it in. One too many testy comments, one too many shut doors, a walk alone without his phone. Maybe it would be better this way. He could just grit his teeth and it would be over. He'd be on his own, just how the universe had destined him.

But that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted Phil. He wanted the security and comfort of being loved, of holding Phil in the night when he was anxious. He loved it, he loved Phil. He loved the home they had built and the career they shared. So he snapped out of it. He forced himself to fight for it, to fight the world and its odds in order to get to be with him and to keep the things he loved. And he did. He built an empire, tours, books, merch, and, while they were at it, started building a house.

And during all of that, he was aware of the pressures and he was aware of what he wanted. He was accomplishing a lot. Honestly, he didn't think about if he would get to keep it that much. He was otherwise occupied with defending this life he had made. So, when he realized that maybe he could stop fighting about it, he was a bit relieved. He could finally relax.

Idle minds do the work of the devil. Suddenly, he had time to think. They were out, they were building a house. He was writing a book. He wasn't impacted as much by his fans these days. All of his worries about what would break them up had turned out to be untrue (if this was because they were baseless or because he worked so hard to keep them from doing so, he could never be sure). But, that old seedling of thought that had haunted him for the last decade was still lying dormant in his mind: he didn't deserve this.

And that now had time to fester. It grew in his mind, this time without any reason. The future, something he could never be certain about, was suddenly his enemy. Dan had changed so much and in so many ways in his life, why couldn't it happen again? Phil could wake up one day and decide that he actually wanted to leave and there would be nothing he could do about it. Dan could wake up one day and realize he was straight, or that he hated Phil, or one of them could do something unforgiveable and nasty and harmful and they would have a bitter end where he would have a bad aftertaste any time he thought of the entirety of his twenties. He couldn't control the future. Any day, there could be another global pandemic (even though this still had not ended them) that throws them completely off kilter. It hadn't happened yet. But any day, it could.

Which is why when his friends started asking him when they were getting married, he told them to calm down. It's only been ten years of steady companionship and love. It's just a mortgage. Oh god, they had a mortgage. He started to get the same feeling he got when Phil had asked him to move in all those years ago. Phil wanted to spend thirty years with him now? Ten plus a 20 year contract. He started to recall the joint bank account conversations, the first time Phil had asked him if he wanted to be the emergency contact, the fact that they went to the same accountant and financial advisor, all of these things that meant forever. Oh god, why weren't they married at this point. They were already almost there except that one piece of paper. He had already signed himself up for something they didn't deserve and he would eventually change his mind about…right?

"I'm confused, Dan," Phil had chuckled out. "Are you saying you want to get married? Is this your way of proposing?"

"No, I mean, no, I just," he stuttered. What did he want? He wanted to keep things the way they were. He wants this life. He just knows he can't have it. His therapist would yell at him about this and he knew it. Deep breath. "I am just scared that I can't control the future. What if you decide to do something wild or what if I decide to do something wild. Then what? There would already be so much paperwork if we broke up, and then adding in a divorce? It seems ridiculous."

"Ah, so you want a premarital divorce instead…?" Phil trailed off, looking at him with those shining, mischievous eyes that Dan loved so dearly.

"God, fuck off, Phil. No! I'm just saying." He didn't need to elaborate. Phil was just taking the piss, he knew what he meant. He always does when it comes to things like this. That's what happens when you're together for this many years.

They were quiet for a moment while Phil got over his own joke. "Dan, we don't have to get married if you don't want to. If the label is freaking you out, then just forget it." They were quiet again. Phil stared at him. "You know, as far as I have been concerned, we could've eloped years ago. I would've done it. There's no guaranteeing the future, but that gives me more reason to make myself happy today. It could be gone. We could both die in a fiery explosion. And if that's the case, I certainly wouldn't mind being married to you until the very end."

Phil was right. Dan knew that. He was basically spitting his own advice back out at him. If life was meaningless and unpredictable, he may as well do whatever he wanted in the present. And he wanted to be with Phil. But he also knew that it was just a piece of paper. And that if he was going to get married, it would be the best damn party anyone's ever been to, so eloping is off the table. He supposed, maybe, he could just trust himself to make the right decision about forever. He had already made a 10+20 year decision on accident, and that was damn close to the marriage certificate.

But he wasn't about to admit defeat to logic. Not in front of Phil and god and everyone. So he didn't. He just sighed a long sigh with about 50 emotions embedded in it. "That's gay, Lester."

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 12: The Mirror]

A/N: Hi y’all!! Please enjoy, this is a long one. We’re getting into the exciting stuff now, so I’ll be putting all my creative energy into BYCNL and will hopefully finish up the series within the next month. Thank you so much for your love and support! Each and every reblog/message/comment makes me smile and means the absolute world to me! 💜

Chapter summary: John gets a rap sheet, Roger gets defensive, Y/N gets suspicious, News Of The World gets a headline.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, drugs, babies, drama, angst.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @stardust-killer-queen​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

You’re not late. You’re never late.

And at first that’s okay, it’s more than okay, it’s a relief; because it was too soon to have a baby anyway, less than a year into a supposedly meaningless marriage, a marriage you and Roger never even speak of, a marriage that might have never happened at all—might only exist as a particularly vivid and pleasant dream—if it wasn’t for your freshly-minted British citizenship. At first you greeted each dark, fruitless stain of blood with a casual ruefulness—oh well, one more month of freedom, you would think, smiling a little, worrying not very much at all—content to let that milestone trophy of womanhood, of life, lay undusted and unclaimed in the cluttered pit of your mental oak trunk with a tarnished gold latch shaped like a lion’s jaw.

After four months, you start to notice things. You notice the way Chrissie’s twins have small willow-green eyes that turn down in the corners, just like Brian does; you notice how John’s children have his downy hair and that innate sort of reticence that some people mistake for banality; you notice all those pretty, anonymous young women pushing strollers through the blossoming summer foliage of Hyde Park. You notice the way Roger grins and waves at babies when you see them in airports or hotel lobbies, dazzles them like he dazzles very nearly everybody, like he still dazzles you. You notice a longing buried in your bones that you hadn’t known existed.

After six months, you are no longer casually rueful. You start ignoring the calendar, as if not noticing you’re due could stop the bleeding from coming at all, like how you’re not supposed to stare at the clock if you want time to pass faster. You start watching what you’re eating, trying to get more sleep, opening all the windows when Roger smokes as he flips through fashion and music magazines with crafty little snickers, flashing those pointy canine teeth you once assumed your children would have.

And now, after nine months—as the world hurtles towards the conclusion of the brisk October of 1977—you have begun to worry; because maybe this thing, this thing that everyone accepts as a guaranteed feature of the all-inclusive package of the human experience, isn’t something you get to have at all. Roger doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask you about it. He is as he always is: sunlight and joy and heat and raw kinetic energy. But sometimes Roger’s huge blue eyes—those eyes you fell in love with, those eyes that convinced you to follow Queen to London, to stardom, to thunderous stadiums all over the world—go vacant as he gazes out into the horizon, as the sun sets over the garden of the Surrey house, as his face is lit up in gold and amber and celestial fury like the wildfire his soul is made of.

And you’ve begun to worry about him, too.

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings from the nightstand. The shrill clanging, like hail on glass, makes you wince beneath the tangle of blankets. Your hand fumbles out into cool night air, which pours in from the open bedroom window.

Where’s Roger?

Then you remember his hushed voice, his bleached hair tickling your cheek, his lips pressed to your temple: Hey baby. I gotta go jam with some people. Grab a drink or two. You sleep, I’ll be back by morning.

Sure, okay, fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. One of those infinite casualties of fame.

You haul the phone to your ear. “Hello...?”

“Hello darling, are you busy?”

“Well, it’s 2:39 a.m., Fred. So not very.”

“Perfect. I need you to go post bail for John.”

You wrench yourself upright, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. “What?!”

“He was drunk driving and backed into a cop car, pure genius. I’m rather indisposed myself at the moment, and of course Veronica can’t know. And you’re so good with him, dear.”

Your feet have already swung off the bed and onto the plush white carpet. You wonder what Freddie is ‘indisposed’ with; there are so many possibilities these days. “And you know about this...because...?”

“He used his phone call on me, darling. I don’t think he wanted to bother you. I suspect he’s a bit mortified.”

“Yeah, well, he should be.” You sigh and start pawing through the safe in the bedroom closet, the spiraled phone cord pulled taunt. Hundred-pound notes shuffle weightlessly between your fingers. You remember when Queen had no money at all, when you and Roger shared a pitiful—dodgy, you amend—one-bedroom flat, when you had to assemble each bouquet and tie each ribbon for John’s wedding by hand; and you’re shocked by the nostalgia that hits you in the gut like brass knuckles. “Sure, I’ll go get him. Just tell me where he is and how much he’ll owe me.”

John is slumped on the floor of the jail cell, alone and sweated and miserable. His hair is in complete disarray. He peers up at you through the iron bars with red, swollen, unfocused eyes.

“Hey,” you say quietly, smiling although you know you shouldn’t be.

He covers his face with both hands and moans. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Too late. Freddie asked me to come get you, he was drunk or high or in the middle of an orgy or something. You are the worst drunk driver in the world, just so you’re aware. You are obviously not cut out for a life of crime.”

“So I’ve gathered.” He swipes at the strands of hair stuck to his forehead with the back of his hand, bites his lower lip, shakes his head with that thousand-yard stare that says: How the fuck did I get here?

You drop down to your knees to meet him at his level. The concrete floor is filthy, spotted with grime and dust and crushed insects and smears of what might be blood. “What’s going on, John?” you ask gently.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he murmurs. “It’s okay when we’re on tour. When we’re on tour I’m preoccupied and exhausted and too high on the rush to think about it too much. I’m numb. Mostly. But then I come home and it’s...” He glowers, balls his hands into fists, beats them clumsily against his thighs. “It’s this relentless fucking cycle of feeling dissatisfied and guilty and inadequate. A disappointment of a husband. A failure of a father. And it’s inescapable.”

“Well, the constant pregnancy situation probably doesn’t help.” Veronica is expecting their third child in February.

He waves a hand dismissively, rolls his eyes. “It’s part of the thing. The ‘being a good husband’ thing. I can’t fix that. Birth control is a sin or whatever. Jesus is too busy pissing himself over that to care about starving kids in the Soviet Union, I guess.”

“That’s a cheerful prospect.”

“Sorry.”

“No, please, by all means. Throw off all your baggage, I can take it.”

Now he smirks, just faintly. “That’s what we’ve always done for each other, right?”

“We’ll be back on tour in a few weeks, John.” And that was true; the News Of The World Tour was scheduled to begin on November 11th in Portland, Maine. The band would spend the 12th in Boston and join your parents for dinner at the Queen Anne-style house at the intersection of Apple and Arcadia that you grew up in.

He whispers forlornly: “I can’t run from this forever.”

“You might have to. I’d love to know what Slavic Jesus has to say about divorce.”

John coughs out a surprised laugh. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Come on. I posted your bail. I won’t tell Roger if you won’t. You can put the extra five thousand pounds in your ‘fake my own death and go live on a tropical island’ fund instead of paying us back.” You’re not serious, and John knows that; he would never abandon his children, even if they weren’t old enough to really remember him yet. But it has the desired effect, which of course is lifting the mood, making John divulge that rare and beautiful smile.

“I’m a wreck. I can’t go home like this. It’d be worse than not coming home at all.”

“I’m happy to offer you one of our five superfluous bedrooms.”

“Okay,” John sighs, clutching the bars of his jail cell and dragging himself to his feet. “I’m so sorry. I owe you for this, I really do.”

“No,” you reply, grinning. “Just find a way to send me the coordinates so I can visit you on your secret tropical island once in a while.”

You drive John home to the Surrey house, get him set up in the spare bedroom with the blue-grey wallpaper and blankets patterned with seahorses, give him a stack of Roger’s clean clothes, lay out fresh towels and a tray of water and cookies—biscuits, you reprimand yourself—for him. He’s mostly sober now, which makes you feel somewhat better; still, you are aware that you hate the thought of leaving him alone, even if he’s only a few walls away.

“Thank you,” he says as you stand in the doorway, his face meditative, his hands in the pockets of his leather coat.

“Of course.”

“You’re a good friend. The best, actually.”

“You’re a good man. You don’t always know it, but you are.”

John just stares at you with an expression you can’t read. Like the ocean: always mysterious, always profound. “Goodnight,” he says after a while.

“Goodnight, John.”

As you pull the bedroom door shut, you hear erratic thumps coming up the staircase. Roger stumbles into the upstairs hallway, singing under his breath and drumming the air with invisible drumsticks, and holds out his arms when he sees you. He’s wearing his dark green suit, an unraveling tie, one sparkling pink Converse, his prescription sunglasses tangled in his hair and forgotten. His eyes are effervescent, flighty, almost manic.

“Hey, love of my life!” he cries, comically loud. “What are you doing up?!”

“Shhhhh! Your bassist partied a little too hard and needed a place to crash that wasn’t overrun with kids. He’s in the blue room.”

“Deaks? Deaks is sleeping over?!” Roger exclaims, beaming. “All my favorite people are here!”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t bother him. He’s pretty messed up, he needs the rest. I’ll make everyone pancakes in the morning or something. Come over here, let’s get you—” But the words die in your throat as you try to tug off Roger’s suit jacket. Fine white powder sheds off the emerald velvet fabric and onto your palm. You blink at it, at the residue like crushed aspirin, like the salt they scatter on Boston roads the night before a snowfall. “What is this?”

He rips his sleeve away, conjures up a smile to throw you off the trail. To dazzle his way out of this. “Nothing.” But he knows. And he knows you know too.

“You were...snorting coke...?”

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that...” He tries to embrace you; you shove him back.

“Roger, no, this is...this is...” You shake your head, shrugging off the shock, searching for the words. You’re confused, you’re exhausted, your mind is whirling. “We’re home, Roger,” you plead, like it means something.

Has he done this before? When? How often? With who?

You should know the answers. It’s not a good sign that you don’t.

“So?” Now he’s indignant.

“So it’s not like being on tour, you’re supposed to take it easy at home, you’re supposed to be, I don’t know, relaxed and recovering and, and, and content...”

You’re not supposed to have an excuse to do all those things that destroy people.

He laughs bitterly. “What, ‘happy at home’?! When has that ever been me?”

“Rog, please, I’m not saying you can’t work all the time or drink or smoke, I’m not even saying you can’t get wasted, I’m just drawing the line at cocaine and I don’t think that’s a terribly despotic place to draw a line.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I must have missed it, when did you become too moralistic for drugs?”

“Acid is different than coke and you know it. Acid doesn’t kill people.”

He glares at you, savage, almost hateful. “You don’t get to put me in a cage.”

“I’m not being controlling or self-righteous, I’m being concerned—”

“You’re being a fucking cop, that’s what you’re being,” Roger snaps.

“What do you want me to say?! I’m a registered nurse, Roger, I’m a medical professional, it’s literally my job to keep you alive—”

“No, it’s your job to make sure we can record and tour and I need it, I can’t play without it, don’t you get that?! I fucking need it!”

Instantly, John is between you, still fully dressed and sweating Manhattans out of his pores and seething. He’s taller than Roger; surely you must have noticed that before. But if you had, you’ve since forgotten. “Roger,” he threatens in a low, unyielding voice. “Go to bed.”

Roger recoils, disoriented, then opens his mouth to protest.

“Go!” John roars, pointing towards the main bedroom. He wants to say more, you can tell, he has rage burning in him like dragonfire; and if it had been Brian or even Freddie, John would have said it. But this is Roger. And you can’t remember a time John has ever raised his voice to Roger before now.

Roger can’t wrap his brain around it either, particularly in his present condition. His eyelids flutter a few times, then he scoffs—a dismissive, derisive sound, a sound that says I don’t know what to do with this information—and staggers away. He slams the bedroom door behind him as he disappears inside.

You collapse against the nearest wall and hiss in ragged breaths through your teeth, your eyes wet and stinging, your hands trembling as you press your knuckles to your lips.

“I-I-I’m so sorry about that,” you whisper, avoiding John’s eyes.

He’s going to say something, something harsh and terrible but true. He’s finally going to tell me how stupid I was for ever thinking this could work, just like Chrissie and Freddie and Brian. He’s going to tell me I deserve it.

Instead, John offers only this, his words flat and hollow: “Yeah. I’m sorry everyone is disappointing you tonight.”

And then he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning—early afternoon, really—Roger doesn’t remember; or at least he feigns convincingly that he doesn’t. He props his feet up on the kitchen table and shovels down six pancakes and theatrically relays to you all the scandalous celebrity gossip in the News Of The World magazine with his prescription sunglasses perched bookishly on his nose. He asks you three times if you’re alright, trying to read the hesitance in your eyes, to unearth all those questions that are taking up a permanent residence there. You smile and nod, sip your tea, watch the sharp autumn sunshine as it streams in through the windows and bathes Roger in luminescence that seems so benignly interminable in the light of day. And when you peer into the bedroom with seahorse-patterned blankets and walls the color of cold rain, John has vanished; but the air is heavy with the scent of a litany of cigarettes and there’s a handwritten note left on one pillow.

Thanks for everything. Hang tough, as the Yanks say. An island getaway awaits you.

~ World’s Worst Drunk Driver

At 3 p.m., John calls and asks if the Taylors would be interested in an outing to the park while he gives Veronica a few hours alone to catch up on housework without the kids. His tone is light, casual, harmless; but you suspect he’s checking in on you.

“Of course we’re interested!” Roger says, snatching his ostentatious fur coat off the back of his chair. “Baby, love of my life, go get some cash from the safe so we can buy the kids ice cream.”

Incidentally, there’s not much cash left in the safe; but you find a ten-pound note in your wallet for the ice cream man and make a mental note to run to the bank on Monday.

Hyde Park in October isn’t so different than Boston. The leaves above are a kaleidoscope of sunstone and rubies and jasper and jade, crisping and curling around their serrated edges, drifting listlessly onto pavement paths to be crushed beneath rushing feet; the roots of the trees are centuries deep. Chrissie is walking laps around the pond as she pushes the twins’ stroller; Evelyn is a fairly good sleeper, but Theodore—Teddy to his closest confidants, of which you are one—is an anxious baby and prone to whining. He’s definitely Brian’s son, you often find yourself thinking with an affectionate smirk. John’s ten-month-old daughter Anna is nestled in your arms in a semi-conscious state, having thoroughly exhausted herself by painting her face with chocolate ice cream and thereafter enduring an impromptu bath and wardrobe change in a public restroom.

Laszlo, two years old and with a mop of auburn curls, trots by the edge of the pond as Roger grips his tiny hand, periodically crouches down beside him, grins hugely and points out swans and fish darting through the dark rippling water. Laszlo shrieks with laughter and tries to steal Roger’s sunglasses, which glint in the sunlight like black mirrors.

“So your kid’s a convict too,” you say to John.

“Gotta train them when they’re still small and good for shimmying through dog doors and such.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Extremely hungover, but I’m trying not to show it.”

“You’re doing a good job, I wouldn’t have known.”

“Excellent. I don’t think Veronica noticed. She was very curious about how I ended up in a pair of Roger’s skintight leopard-print pants, though.”

You chuckle, glimpsing down at Anna, rocking her a little as her eyes flitter open and then close again. You and John are on opposite ends of a wooden park bench, your ankles crossed and resting in his lap, your hair rustling in the breeze. John peers over at you periodically, studies you like an ancient statue of Aphrodite or Perseus under a spotlight in an echoing museum, then resumes his sketching. Your smile dies as you watch Roger giggle with Laszlo, lift him high into the cool autumn air, trumpet mock airplane noises in that high, raspy voice.

“Come on,” John prompts, nudging your boots. “I’ll take the baggage if you’ll let me.”

No, I think I’ll keep this one to myself. But you don’t. “It’s my fault,” you say softly. It’s my fault we can’t have children.

John lifts his pencil from the page, his greyish eyes gentle. “You don’t know that.”

“Statistically, it is most likely my fault.”

“It hasn’t been that long, has it? Definitely less than a year. Sometimes these things take time.”

“They didn’t for you and Veronica.”

“Yes, well...” John frowns uneasily. “That’s not always such a blessing.”

“How helpful. You should write newspaper columns for depressed housewives. ‘Don’t worry about that infertility dear, you could have it worse, you could have a life sentence with someone you can’t fucking stand.’”

That was unkind, you think, immediately regretting it. That might have been too far.

But John doesn’t seem offended. His pencil flies over the paper as he glances over at you again. “Is that all? Please continue. I’m riveted to learn more about my alternative career path.”

“No, I think I’m done.”

“Okay. What’s your favorite flower?”

You consider that. “Roger always gets me carnations or roses...and I like them, don’t get me wrong...but I don’t know if I��d call either of those my favorite.”

“It’s not that deep a question, Miss Nightingale.”

“I’ll defer to the artist’s expertise. Surprise me.”

“I’m no artist,” John warns, but he returns to his sketching nonetheless. “I’m really sorry about last night, by the way. I was being stupid and dramatic and immature and self-pitying. ‘Midway on our life's journey, I found myself in dark woods, the right road lost,’ etcetera etcetera.”

You’re no great connoisseur of Italian literature, but you recognize those famous opening lines of the Inferno. “Can I ask you something?”

“Please do.”

“What is this fascination you have with Dante?”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles pensively with his eyes cast out over the pond. “I like that his story has a happy ending. That someone can start in hell and sweat out all their sins in purgatory and end up among the stars.”

You raise your eyebrows, taken back, impressed. “That’s awfully poetic.”

“It’s strange, probably,” John says, scrutinizing his drawing.

“No, really. I love it.”

“Yeah?” He’s doubtful, but he’ll allow himself to believe you if you insist.

“Yeah. And no more drunk driving or other acts of self-destruction, okay? Queen would crumble without you, John. And so would I.”

In reply, he rips the page out of his notebook and hands it over. The image is of you: so infinitely more lovely and at peace than you feel, eyes wise and contented and reflecting halos of sunlight, John’s daughter dozing in your arms.

Tucked behind your ear, etched in graphite shadows, is a calla lily.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Darling, what do I look like?” Freddie bats his eyelashes flirtatiously.

“A raccoon.”

His face screws into a grimace. “I’m supposed to be a cat.”

“Yes, I’m cognizant of that. But you look like a raccoon. Which is why people keep assuming you’re a raccoon, which is why you’re asking me now if you look like one.”

“Bloody hell,” he groans, puffs on a cigarette, fluffs his hair irritably, slurps a drink that is fizzy and sapphire blue.

“The problem is that you went with black and white. You should have dressed as a calico or something. Or a grey cat, oh, I love the chubby grey ones!”

“I’m a musician, darling, not a fucking zoologist.” He exhales a ring of smoke and meanders away.

Queen, the band’s associates, and various music industry figures are all milling around the night-draped mansion. It’s half a Halloween celebration and half a launch party for News Of The World, an album named for the tabloid that Roger both loathes and yet refuses to stop having delivered to the Surrey house. He can’t stand the thought of not being clued into the latest gossip, trends, fashion, awards, of missing any piece of what stardom has to offer. In the spirit of Halloween, Roger is dressed as a tiger, his sleeveless sequined shirt striped with orange and black. You are a veterinarian (not so far a cry from a nurse that you can’t repurpose your old uniform), John a shark (he’s taped a cardboard triangle to his back like a fin), Veronica a sea turtle in a teal dress and with a shell painted over her sizable baby bump, Brian and Chrissie both bright green aliens with antennae bobbing from their headbands. Mary is here as well—outfitted (quite appropriately) like an Enlightenment-era queen—but so is Freddie’s new boyfriend, a shy man named Anthony who is young and handsome and compliant and dressed as a mouse. Mary beams dutifully whenever Freddie is speaking to her, but her expression clouds over when he turns away. She no longer has a gold ring gleaming on her wedding finger, although she did gain an athletic blond date whom she seems largely indifferent to.

As Roger wanders through the crowd shaking hands and howling at jokes, you sip champagne by the snack table and devour an obscene amount of crab puffs. John and Veronica are chatting—unenthusiastically, from what you can tell—nearby with lamb kabobs in their grasps. John passes you a smirk every once in a while, an I’m so over this party and I know you are too smirk of commiseration, and nurses a Manhattan. Chrissie nibbles on disks of cucumber and baby carrots and not much else, which is very unlike her.

“You alright?” you ask worriedly. “You aren’t sick, are you? These crab puff things are incredible, I can’t stop eating them. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve had three dinners so far tonight, I’ve become a monster.”

Chrissie’s lips are a tight, humorless line. “I’m perfectly healthy, I’m just a cow.”

“Chris, honey, don’t!” You pat her shoulder reassuringly with one hand, pop another crab puff into your mouth with the other. “You’re gorgeous, and most women’s bodies change once they have babies, it’s natural!”

“Yeah, well most women aren’t married to men with infinite opportunities to upgrade.”

“Chrissie, no,” you murmur, pained; but you aren’t sure what else to say. She’s not wrong. I wish she was, but she isn’t. And she already knows that.

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac is playing from the reverberating stereo, Stevie Nicks’ sensuous, nasally voice climbing through air choked with strangers and cigarette smoke.

“Now here you go again

You say you want your freedom

Well, who am I to keep you down?”

Brian bids farewell to some record company executive he was talking to across the room and slips out onto the back porch of the house, and after a moment Chrissie follows him. You resist the temptation to eavesdrop until you can clearly hear their voices, raised and combative, through the sliding glass door. You glance to John, apprehensive.

You better go out there, he mouths, and so you do.

“Thunder only happens when it's rainin'

Players only love you when they're playin'

Say women, they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know...”

Under cold October stars, Chrissie has trapped her horrified-looking husband, backed him into a fountain of a dolphin spewing an endless stream of water from its snout. “Did you think I wouldn’t listen to your own fucking album, Brian?!” She shrieks. “Who is she, huh? Who the fuck is she?!”

You grip her arm and try to lead her away. “Chrissie, babe, not here—”

“It’s Late, Brian? Yeah, it’s real fucking late in your life to still be chasing whores over in America while I’m building your family here, isn’t it?!”

“Love, please, it’s not true,” Brian attempts anemically, reaching for her.

“It is!” Chrissie rages. “It is and it always has been and I was too busy being some blind stupid idiot who loved you to see it!”

She breaks down in tears and you shove Brian away, shoo him back inside. You pitch him a fierce glare as he leaves, retreating like a kicked dog. There’s nothing you can do to fix this, you coward. Because everything she’s saying is true. Chrissie clings to you like a life raft, sobbing into your shoulder, asking what she did wrong.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her, over and over again; because that’s all there is to say.

Eventually Chrissie quiets, goes still and resigned and numb, and you help her fix her makeup and lead her back inside. You stand with her beside the snack table and swear not to leave her side until the party’s over, until the men are done celebrating yet another triumph that will take them further and further from home. Brian is nowhere to be found.

“That goddamn broodmare,” Chrissie hisses, gulping straight vodka, staring venomously at Veronica.

“Why do you hate her so much? I mean she can be dull, yeah. She’s sanctimonious and naïve and dresses like a freaking Mennonite. But she’s not horrible or anything.” And her life isn’t so perfect either.

“It’s not obvious?” Chrissie asks, her voice like a blade.

“No...?”

Chrissie’s eyes are scorching, although you’re not the person she’s furious with. You just happen to be standing in the path of the storm. “Because she’s the only one of us who’s never going to have to find out what this feels like.”

Oh, I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.

You try to spot Roger in the teeming room. He’s over by a crackling fireplace, telling stories with dramatic sweeps of his hands, bleeding charisma like sweat, and none of that is unusual at all. One of the people he’s talking to is Dominique Beyrand, and that’s not so unusual either; Richard Branson ends up at a lot of industry events, and Dom trails him around like a shadow, nodding politely and contributing little chirps of conversation in that posh French accent.

But here’s the strange part; here’s the part you’ve never seen before.

When Roger flashes that dazzling smile of his, Dominique smiles back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, you’re steeping in a sweltering bubble bath as the phone rings downstairs. You ignore it at first, because the hot water is unraveling all the tension in your muscles and the lurking shadows in your mind, and also because the calendar is hanging right beside the phone in the kitchen and you’re quite committed to ignoring it this morning. But the phone rings again, and again, and you’re aware that it could be something serious; Roger is working on some non-Queen collaboration at a studio in downtown London, and something could have happened to him.

Especially considering his recreational preferences lately.

You scramble out of the tub, pull on a robe that sticks uncomfortably to your dripping skin, leave a path of bathwater footprints down the hallway and steps—slipping twice and clinging to the banister for dear life—before finally careening into the kitchen to snatch the phone off the wall.

“Hello?” you gasp, winded.

It’s not Roger, nor someone calling to inform you that Roger has overdosed or disappeared or vaulted down a staircase or been hit by a bus. It’s Chrissie.

“Have you seen the News Of The World yet?” she demands.

“Ummm, the album...?” Of course I’ve listened to the album. About a million times. You have a particular affinity for Spread Your Wings.

“No, not the album,” she snaps impatiently, although she kindly leaves out the you idiot addition that her tone implicates. “The magazine. Have you seen it today?”

“I was mid-bubble bath and almost broke my neck sprinting for the phone. So no.”

“Good. Don’t read a word. Don’t talk to anyone. I’m coming over. I’m gonna grab John and come right over.”

“Chris, what—?”

“Do not touch that fucking magazine!” she screams, and hangs up.

Naturally, you don’t listen.

You go to the main door of the Surrey mansion and open it. Sure enough, the new issue of News Of The World is waiting on the porch for you. You pluck it up with damp hands; the whirlpools of your fingerprints stick to the parchment.

On the front page is a photo of Roger, but he’s not alone. He’s scowling at the paparazzo snapping the picture, his face lit up by the flash, painfully and unmistakably stunning. He’s in some sort of alley or side entrance to a restaurant or club. He’s somewhere he’s trying not to be seen, which anyone could tell you is remarkable for Roger Taylor. Beside him is a woman you recognize; and although she’s looking down and trying to hide behind her shock of lustrous black hair, you can see her lips are smiling.

The headline reads: “Queen Drummer Spends Royally on London Love Nest for French Mistress.”

[solecize]

                         01. “THE FIRST RACE”

summary: the city of seoul has been poisoned with the violence of greed and gang warfare. this takes a toll on your father, the police chief, and you start assisting him in the office for your year off. unfortunately, this means you have to deal with the new hothead detective, nakamoto yuta, who gives your father hell and even more so to the shadows with a need for speed that only come out at the ungodly hours of the night. the line between good and bad become blurred amidst the adrenaline rush of it all. you learn more about seoul’s underground and encounter these ghostwriters living in the luster of lights and overdrive —all while getting caught up in a cruel plot beyond the world of street racing. pairing: reader/? featuring: t7s line + yuta warnings: foul language

maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins or the unknown to come, but your entire life flashed before your very eyes. it tasted like the sea salt waters of your mother's town and the bitter liquid that you've been stinging your throat with all night,—hell, week—long. you saw ruby blood oil paints slathered across a canvas, kissing the touches of ivory underneath. the rumbling anxiety pooling at the bottom of your stomach didn’t like it when mark drove into the not-so-friendly part of the city. you especially didn’t like it when he pulled off to a side road that was barely even a road, barren of streetlights and seemingly leading into a tunnel of darkness. the infinite, screaming lights of seoul disappeared and in exchange came the rustling crickets of the dim outskirts. then, the deep song of car engines sputtering filled your ears—wait, no. that wasn't in your head. it was happening.

“i told you trust me.” a devilish grin spread across mark's face, the same one he wore in your elementary school memories.

the narrow street once occupied with nothing, just in the blink of an eye, teemed with cars from both sides. it was mobbed with cars, even. glowing paints gleamed in the moonlight, countless with obnoxious paint jobs and designs and decals that wore out your eye. clusters of individuals clung onto and around the area, some showcasing whatever they had under their car hoods or their interiors. a crowd, even, all lost in the glister of the night and their vehicles to the assorted beats coming from too many radios to hear even one song.

your lips parted in at the sight. when mark asked if you “wanted to check out something cool,” this was not what you expected.

after all, this was mark lee. mark, who once literally saved a cat stuck in a tree. mark, who you trusted enough to pet sit your elderly cats. mark, your childhood best friend who was the typical boy next door with a heart of gold. 

“it’s pretty cool, right?” mark’s eyes were clouded with pure bliss, as he looked out to the surroundings.

when you caught him leaving the bar early that night, which he had never done while out with your group of friends, you thought he was leaving to go home or something. following him out to catch a ride, you figured you had nothing to lose when he asked you if you wanted to see “something real sick.” probably a new food spot, knowing him. you obliged and got into his car, as he raved on about this surprise he was going to show you.

mark said, “welcome to tonight’s run. now, this,” he parked into what seemed like the last empty spot, “is freakin’ awesome.”

“what the hell is this?” though you were still tipsy, the shock of the view around you sobered your sense up like a sponge. 

“i just said, tonight’s run.” he gave you a ‘duh’ look and pushed his car door open. “way better than the usual bar hopping we’ve been doing!”

you scowled and followed suit, despite a stiffness to your muscles when realizing that you’d have to enter this environment. “hey, i happen to like my mindless bar hopping. it distracts me from my—”

“—meaningless, dead-end life, yeah, come on now.” mark helped you out of his pickup truck by extending a hand and closing the door behind you.

looking around, you weren’t sure if you were really seeing what was in front of you. then, several cars, a blaze of rainbows, zoomed right past you by just a few feet. you yelped, whipping your head to watch them go faster than you’d ever seen a car go. just in a matter of half a second, they became specks in your line of vision. meanwhile, others whooped and cheered along at the sight.

“i. . .didn’t realize you were into this kind of thing.” you weren’t sure what to say, still completely boggled at what was happening. 

upon seeing him, several individuals started greeting him and shaking hands with mark. mark clearly had a place in this scene. you did not, by the way some people were giving you an odd side glance for being at his side. 

mark crossed his arm, chuckling. “with all due respect, we haven’t talked in years. i mean, i missed you, that’s why i reached out to you when i found out you moved back to seoul last month,” he assured, “but, this shit? it’s been like my other life for as long as i can remember, dude.”

you forced a smile, trying to understand. he was right. you’d only just moved back to seoul not that long ago after years away with your mother in a different country. it’d been that way since the divorce, until things got strained between the two of you and you decided it would be best to move back to the city to be near your aging, stressed father. 

he said. “just stay for a bit. numb your brain with something that isn’t alcohol,” mark was joking, but you still rolled your eyes at him. 

“oh, stop, you make me sound like a party animal.”

“we’ve been going out to bars every day since you started helping your dad in his office,” mark retorted. “it’ll be fine, picasso.”

that was his nickname for you, a fine arts major back in college, and normally you hated them, but you let this one slide once. 

you attempted to reason. “because my life sucks.”

“yeah, whatever, it’s just because you’re like every other university grad that can’t find a job,” mark shrugged. “and i know you’re trying to shed the good girl thing by partying every night, but—”

he was partly right. you never really wanted to move back to seoul and maybe you were trying to show off to your dad that you were no longer “his little girl” anymore or whatever. however, considering you were still stuck having to help him at work, it wasn’t going as planned.

scrunching your nose at him, “excuse me—”

then, someone called mark’s name. a lanky shadow sporting sunny yellow air force 1s and a matching bandanna tied around his head approached the two of you. the smallest of his movements were smooth and slick, as he if was floating on air and he owned this sky. 

“hey, ten,” mark grinned and gave a quick hug to the other male. 

looking up close, the male was quite handsome. there was a certain glow about him that was rare in people and you couldn’t seem to look away. clad in black leather and gold jewelry all over, you were sure that you’d be terrified of him and his good looks if it weren’t for the bright, calming smile that adorned his lips.

‘ten’ didn’t even notice your presence, much less acknowledge it. “you ready? it’s gonna be a big one.”

“of course,” he scoffed in response, then his eyes darted towards you. “oh, by the way, i want you to meet—”

but, ten’s attention was already whisked away to the next crowd, making a beeline for whatever else called for it. everything seemed to gravitate towards him. what a character.

mark scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly. “sorry about ten, he’s a ball of energy. doesn’t stay in one place for too long.”

“it’s fine,” you shook your head and begun to look around more. “um, so what am i supposed to do here?”

mark smiled as if he was waiting for you to ask. "promise me to stay right here,” he pointed to the pavement beneath your feet, “like, this exact spot and don’t move.” eyebrows raised with his hands in the air, he was dead serious.

you blinked. “what?”

before you could process the request, mark was already scurrying away. you tried calling his name, but he either ignored you or couldn’t hear your yells over the booming music in the atmosphere. 

it was no longer fear that you felt, but more so, confusion. looking around, this was clearly not a place for you. there were few females, but the only ones around were barely wearing clothes and seemed to only serve as arm candy to be strung along by racers. racers was the correct term, right? people going out of their way to gather and watch cars drive by didn’t appeal to you at all. you weren’t even sure how they could do all of this without the police catching them right away. 

the confusion slowly turned into intrigue when the same foreign song of roaring car engines returned from the near distance. the buzz grew louder and in a flash, rose gold glowed before your very eyes first. then came the rest of the ridiculously bright cars, though by a sizable distance. 

they all halted right after crossing the distinct white line drawn onto the ground and emerged from the first car was a man who was instantly welcomed by cheers. he couldn’t have been that much older than you, a clean mop of silver resting on his head and wearing plain, loose fit clothing. despite looking the most mundane out of all the other racers, his car was easily the most expensive looking at first glance. 

“taeyong, you the man!” someone yelled from the crowd, which initiated a chant.

the last person to exit their car was a six foot something tower, beefy in every aspect, and had a multicoloured sleeve etched into his right arm. he marched right over to taeyong, a fury in every step he took. the crowd parted like the red sea for the goon.

“hey, jo,” taeyong greeted casually, a boredom behind his eyes. 

then, the unexpected happened. the big, burly monster began to shake. if you squinted hard enough, you could see the tears forming at his eyes. the people surrounding them began to laugh at the sight. you wanted to, on the account of just how ridiculous it looked, but you felt a tug at your heartstrings for the guy.

jo tried reaching out for taeyong’s hand, which he brushed off. “please, taeyong! sir, i’ll do anything!” he wailed. “please! just let me keep my car—”

“you shouldn’t have wagered a pink slip then, dumbass.” he sighed, ramming his shoulder when he walked past jo. 

right behind him was a woman with cropped, strawberry blonde hair and cat-eye sunglasses perched low upon her nose. she sipped on a bottle of amber liquid in one hand and immediately snatched jo’s car keys out of his grasp with her other. the woman dangled them in the air, mockingly, and the crowd whooped in response. 

“miyeon, take it back to the garage.” taeyong asked her.

she rolled her eyes. “no shit.” and walked away right after, hopping into the car that jo was once in.

watching this from the sidelines, you were in awe of what you just witnessed. the whole ordeal seemed to happen so quickly for something as serious as losing your car.

meanwhile, taeyong finished collecting rolls of bills from the other untriumphant racers, he began making his way through the crowd and you realized he was coming in your direction, you thought about moving, but you remember what mark asked of you and you weren’t really sure of where else to go.

his eyes flickered up and met yours for the briefest of moments. then, as if something clicked in his mind, taeyong gazed back at you. the intensity created a stiffness in your joints and you couldn’t move. 

behind him, the crowd dispersed back to their former places, making room on the road again. they swarmed the sidewalk, creating clumps around you. however, despite being lost in the other faces, taeyong continued to stare at you.

“hi.” you managed to choke the word out, unsure of you should have said anything, but the atmosphere began to grow too weird for your taste.

taeyong’s expression hovered and the ferocity faded slightly with the introduction of a small smile. “sor-sorry, i was trying to figure out if i’ve ever seen you before.” the stammer threw you off guard, watching him tug at a earring dangling from his left ear. “i know basically everyone who regularly shows up to a run.”

“yeah, i figured from everyone chanting your name that you’re pretty well known,” you responded and felt the corners of your lips quirk up.

“did you enjoy the show, then?” he cocked an eyebrow.

honestly, you weren’t sure what to make of the entire thing. “the race or that last part?” you still felt bad about the other guy losing his car, but it must be a common occurrence in this kind of scene.

meanwhile, people began to turn down their car stereos, quieting the surroundings. someone yelled something about “5 minutes until we’re in the clear”  and you could feel some sort of anticipating wafting in the air, something you never felt before.

taeyong chuckled softly. "so, it’s your first time here, then?” he asked. “just guessing, but you didn’t plan to come here, tonight, did you?” he gestured to your outfit, a plain turtleneck and jeans. it was a far cry from everyone else’s attire, showing off their expensive fashion brands and chains. 

you snorted. “no. my friend brought me here after we had a few drinks and this was the last thing i expected.”

“a friend?” taeyong said, but he tore his eyes away to the road, where a new line of cars began creeping up to the line. “oh, looks like the last race of the night’s about to start. i was gonna leave, but this one looks like it’s gonna be a good one.” he glances at the lavish, rose gold watch on his wrist. 

then, you saw him, you didn’t recognize him at first, lounging in the driver’s seat of a baby blue vintage vassalo convertible, but upon further inspection, it was definitely mark. the car was certainly not the plain suv that the two of you arrived in, a beauty queen of a vehicle and unlike what you’ve ever seen before. he was the second last one to pull up to the line and he scanned the crowd, immediately finding your eyes. mark waved wildly with a grin and although you found it ridiculous, you waved back.

“oh, you came here with mark, of course.” taeyong leaned against a flickering streetlight. “he floats a lot, can be seen everywhere with all types of people.”

“yeah, he’s always been that way,” you shrugged, “i never really thought that this whole scene was a thing, so i was really surprised when he took me here.”

the sound of an engine chorus punctured your eardrums in the blink of an eye, loud and unforgiving. someone walked right in front of the cars, just in between two, and his arm rose in the arm. the excited chatter grew all around you.

“GO!” yelled the man, slicing his arm through the air and just like that, all of the cars surged by. whizzing by in the matter of a second, you could barely catch your breath before realizing that they were all gone.

a new voice emerged from nearby. “the job’s done, boss. jaehyun just came back with it.”

it was a man about the same age as taeyong, tugging on his arm and attempting to speak discreetly. however, you close enough to the two of them to be able to hear their conversation. taeyong simply nodded in silence and they continued watched the race from a far distance.

“who’s this?” the mystery man inquired, noticing your presence. he was cute at first glance with naturally innocent eyes, but the tone playing on his tongue was too intimidating to stick to such a mood.

taeyong said, “mark brought her here. uh,” he smiled apologetically, “sorry, we didn’t even exchange names.” you gave it to him and nodding, he opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the other.

“welcome to seoul’s racing scene! i’m doyoung,” doyoung’s vibe completely shifted, as he enthusiastically shook your hand, which you did not offer. “and this is taeyong, but you already knew that by now.” at that, he rolled his eyes, but you heard no such denial of the statement.

then, before you knew it, you could taste the gas in the air and the sweet melody of a car’s buzz returned. to your shock, it was a whirl of baby blue that crossed the finish line first. curiously, the last car that finished was surrounded by a cloud of smoke, creating an ugly barricade around its pretty matte red paint. it had floundered its way back, barely moving in a straight line, and a clear dent was evident on the rear end of the car.

mark jumped out of his car with one of the biggest smiles ever painted across his lips. taeyong and doyoung moved forward to congratulate him, as you trailed behind and still unsure of yourself. they both gave mark a fist bump and you wanted to go in for a hug, but the celebration was cut short by the deafening slam of a car door, followed by a fist to mark’s hood.

“what. the. fuck. was. that.”

a six foot tower appeared out of the banged up car, steam coming out of his ears and red in his eyes. you all jumped at the noise and you especially shriveled up in fear upon noticing this new person. you saw the way a flicker of worry shone in mark’s eye, but he tried to compose himself and didn’t let it show.

“the hell you talkin’ about, johnny?” mark shot back, getting right up in the other man’s face and attempting to size him up. 

it honestly looked a little funny, but you snapped out of it quickly.

johnny rammed his finger into mark’s chest, poking it and looking at him dead in the eye. the spectators began to back up, some due to safety concerns and others taking out their phones to record. that’s when you realized that you of all people should get the hell away. you would be dead if you were caught in the frame.

he growled. “you son of a bitch, you fuckin’ cheated out there!” johnny spat and at this, doyoung stepped forward.

doyoung said, “woah, woah, woah!” he attempted to gently come in between them. “can we all just calm down for a second?”

as if there was no one around but him and mark, johnny grabbed the shorter male by the collar. “admit it!”

an army marched through your chest. what the hell was happening? your hand hovered over your phone in your back pocket, in case things were to escalate.

mark was barely able to shove johnny away. “get your fucking hands off me!” he sent pleading eyes to doyoung, who then tried to whisper reason into johnny.

while johnny was briefly distracted, mark zipped towards you and tugged at your sleeve. “you have to go.”

“what?”

“seriously, this is not gonna end well and i don’t want you here when it does,” he grimaces. “this wasn’t supposed to happen when i brought you here, i’m so sorry—”

you scrunched your eyebrows together. “mark!”

“—taeyong, shit, can you do me a favour and take her home? i’ll owe you one, i swear to god.” mark ignored you and turned to the white haired male to just met.

taeyong said, “don’t worry about it, brother.” the answer came instantly and a nod of appreciation was exchanged by the two of them.

turning to you, mark pat your head. “i’m sorry again, i can’t drive you home tonight. go with taeyong, you’ll be safe with him.”

a shock of nostalgia overcame your senses, as you recalled the times when mark would give you his umbrella when you didn’t have one, as the two of you walked home from school. there was also the time when he taught you how to roller blade and helped you back up every time you fell. he was always that friend in your life and remembering these moment settled a feeling of comfort in your skin.

“okay.” that was all taeyong needed to grab you by the hand and lead you through the swamp of people. 

some glanced at the two of you oddly, but you tried your best to keep your head down. after seeing the amount of phones recording, there was no way you were going to let yourself be seen any further than you may have already been. shouting developed from where you left mark, but you tried to not look back.

“taeyong, where the hell are you going?” someone said and the two of you halted momentarily. “i thought you wanted to see the—”

“i’ll just meet you back at the garage, jaehyun.” taeyong responded. 

the man cocked an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. he was sitting on the hood of a car with the ten guy that you saw earlier, seemingly watching the situation from a distance. they both looked at you with questioning eyes, but taeyong already began walking away.

you came across the same gorgeous rose gold car that taeyong drove in the earlier race, still sparkling underneath the dingy streetlight. he came forward and opened the door for you.

“um, thanks,” you mumbled, as you got into the passenger seat of the car, which you now recognized to be a hirose model, the same kind your dad drove.

the inside of the car smelled brand new and you easily settled into the leather seat, a clean white hue. though, the car’s control system at the front, was unusual. it was clearly modified, with dozens of switches and controls that definitely did not come with a car. even the steering wheel was adorned with a few buttons, all labelled by different letters. 

taeyong appeared at the other side, jumping into the driver’s seat with ease.

“you like her?” it took you a second you process that he was referring to his car.

you snorted. “you’re one of those people?”

he rammed his key in and the engine purred to life, beginning to gracefully pull out of the parking spot with speed. “what are you talking about?”

“one of those people who refer to their cars as a ‘her?’“ you replied. you found it a little humourous, sure, but you also needed to break the silence.

taeyong chuckled. “yes, is it that weird?”

eventually, the loud music and clusters of people began to fade away, until the two of you were back on the narrow, dark road that mark took you to. the road felt different and a calm spread over you this time. 

“is it part of the whole ‘street racer’ thing?” you asked.

he shook his head. “nah, probably just a me thing.” taeyong leaned forward slightly and tapped on the custom screen positioned where a radio should’ve been. with a few more clicks, soft lo-fi music filled the car. 

for the next while, it was all you heard. the two of you sat in silence, strangely enough, until you were no longer on the outskirts of the city. the stupid city lights came into sight once again, as did other traffic. the ride was definitely faster than before, most likely attributed to your lack of a drunken state and fear.

you pulled out you phone from your back pocket and gaped at the time shown on the screen. “holy fuck, it’s five in the morning?” 

“is it?” taeyong tapped again at the monitor in front of you and 5:14 AM shone bright in red.

time flew by like it was nothing. it seemed like you were just putting on the finishing touches to your hair at eight o’clock earlier that evening. you’d met up with mark and your friends around that time and after that, everything faded into one. 

you groaned, leaning your head back in agony when you realized what awaited you in just a few hours. taeyong noticed this and chuckled.

“let me guess, early morning shift?”

scoffing, you replied. “and i’m not even getting paid for it. fuck.” the fact that you had to trudge back to the station for nine sharp felt like a slap to the face. 

taeyong said, “what? don’t bother showing up then.” the car came to a red light and he turned to you and looked at you—like, really looked at you. there wasn’t a hint of fatigue in his eyes and you were amazed. 

“i’m just helping my dad out,” you shrugged. 

the conversation should’ve flown after that, but you heard the unmistakable wail. just a few cars back. the sirens cried and the bright lights stung your tired eyes. at the realization, your stomach dropped seven feet beneath the ground. you felt as though something was crawling up your spine and the back of your arms and legs. this had to be a joke.

looking at his mirrors, taeyong cursed. “are you kidding me?”

you still couldn’t move. this was likely your end. your breath grew sharp and a sweat broke out on your palms. 

he turned to you, though eyes kept darting back to the red light. “will you trust me?”

“what?”

“i said, will you trust me! we’re running out of time here!” you saw the way his eyes softened right after, as if he didn’t mean to yell, but adrenaline coasted through his entire body.

you had no choice. “OKAY, OKAY!” you hollered back, not knowing what was going to happen next.

in one motion, taeyong sent the car flying through the air with a ridiculous turn. that was the last thing you remembered when you woke up that morning at ten thirty. sunlight streamed through your translucent curtains, biting at your still closed eyes. your head was pounding louder than any speaker you encountered the night before, completely overtaking your ears and you let out a painful cry. 

burying yourself back underneath your thick sheets, the pounding still continued. what the fuck happened? you were still in your clothes from last night, evident by the atrocious smell coming from your sweater and the uncomfortable denim fabric clinging to your sweaty skin. you must’ve come home drunk or something, but how?

slowly, fragments appeared before your eyes. you heard the hum of a car engine. you remembered the face of a white haired man. the strongest one was of a police siren, bringing your ears to the verge of blood. 

without emerging from the covers, your single hand shot up from underneath, feeling around your bedside table for your phone. you had to text mark about this crazy dream. however, when you instead picked up the keys for a hirose X9, a car that definitely did not belong to you, you choked at the revelation that the crazy street racing dream you had was in fact, not a dream.

[pinkbutterfly84]

Scorpion Season 3

I have read several posts that Toby is really irritating in this season I have never seen it before but will be keeping an eye out. Interested to see how Happy explains herself and how Toby reacts....

3.01 - Toby dealing with it in a typical genius way practically looking for her husband

Poor Toby he looks so hurt when Happy walks through the door

For him to say he doesn't trust her must of really hurt Happy. I still dont get why she cant tell him what's going on he looks in so much pain. The only time I dont like Happys actions.

We heard Happy tell Toby she loves him for the first time, presume it has been said behind closed doors but nice to hear she does love him

Walter knows who Happy is married too! Has he kept it a secret all this time thats gonna really hurt Toby's feelings.

Toby is still on point with his behavioural skills

I know that they are dealing with a lot but Happy really needs to be more understanding of Toby and tolerant of his questions she must know what he is like and how he wont stop until he finds the truth

Toby telling Happy he is hurt and angry and she offers no source of comfort I think she finds it easy to switch from work Happy to home Happy and now she is completely focused on work

She says Toby has her heart and soul which is romantic but I'm sure that is not what Toby is feeling - Happy still has some work to do with herself but she has come so far and Toby really should remember that

Toby says he is resinding his proposal but Happy doesn't want that Toby us lashing out in anger Happy looks so hurt

Happy is retreating into her hard shell - maybe she is expecting Toby to break up with her or she feels guilty either way she is acting slightly like the beginning of season 1

Can I just point out Toby may of hit the bottle understandably but he didnt gamble even in his darkest moment his promise to Happy still means something and he didnt want to hurt or disappoint her

Favourite quote- 1. I am married 2. I didn't delete anything 3 I dont like t you 4. I'm in love with you

Favourite scene- it's not a favourite scene because it's so heart breaking but Happy and Toby talking for the first time

3.02 continuation from last episode

Happy still snapping at Toby it may be the next episode but still the after he found out

Toby maybe upset but he still worries for Happy when she is in the pipe with Paige

Favourite quote- you pretend you dont love Paige and I will pretend Happys not married to some yaho

You think the fish are farting away from the submarine

Favourite scene- the end scene Happy telling Toby they will be a family if two and eating there tea together there is hope

3.03 - not much quintis to evaluate...... Toby is meditating not sure how productive it is

The question is how much are Toby and Happy hanging out, outside of the garage. He may be avoiding hounding her about it but has he forgiven her enough to spend time with her

I like Walter and Toby's relationship they both respect each and what they do

It's quite noticable in this episode how far apart Happy and Tiby are usually they work together, stand together even after the failed date now contact is limited

Favourite quote- some world class behaviourist like me would say this will drive you crazy

Favourite scene- my favourite scene is not because of the story but its Toby in his denim shirt looking beautiful ❤🔥❤

3.05 - oh no Collins a short cameo I hope!

Toby must be desperate to ask Collins for help just shows the extremes he will go to, to find the answers. Surly Happy should have told him by now. It shows just how much Toby loves Happy to stay with her with this huge secret between them

The U Dog need I say more........

Still a lot of distance between quintis and Happy berating Toby for talking to Collins when she is the one keeping the secret

Side note- this is a really important episode showing the true struggles of Autism something which many families deal with and not enough attention is made of it is written and played perfectly by all the writers and cast. Well done 👏👏👏

Happy showing a glimpse into her childhood is heartbreaking and gives an insight to why she can be closed off

I cant imagine how hurt Toby must be when he finds out it is his best friend Walter who Happy is married too. Why did Walter keep it a secret he could of told Toby years ago, whenvtgey guest got together or now, makes you understand why Walter was so against the relationship

Happy drops a bombshells........ I'm pregnant

What I would of loved to see is Toby and Happy conversation straight after the bombshell what did Toby say???

I hope she wasnt to marry Toby because she loves him not just because she is pregnant

Favourite quote- frustraters riddle solvers incorporated, you riddle I fiddle

Favourite scene- Toby finding out Walter is the husband

3.06 - glad got to see the meaningless wedding proves it was just for a green card

Toby is showing signs of jealousy and is obviously keen for them to get a divorce

Happy is being very hostile towards Toby I can however imagine Toby is being very full on with pregnancy and is probably worried about being a mother due to her childhood

Walter is being slightly selfish he should be doing whatever he can to make it up to Toby

Toby is being an arse in this episode I think he still has hostility built up in him and cant air his frustrations with Happy as he is over worried about her so takes it out on everyone else

I switch from being annoyed with Toby to feeling sorry for him in this episode

Happy wearing Toby's clothes gives me all sorts of feels!

Happys face is very Happy when she hears Toby's voice over the comms

Happy and Walter having to live together...... and Toby wanting to be with Happy so stays on the floor. This shows Happys love for Toby as she is willing to do something which makes her so uncomfortable and Toby is there to support her. I like to think that she isnt used to bring vulnerable with anyone else so lezbs towards toby in the night holding his hand or moving to the floor as she isnt used to sharing a bed with anyone but him

Favourite quote- who was your caseworker mr magoo

Perhaps I should wax my chest incase the milk comes

Favourite scene- Paige giving Toby advice first time you get to see a friendship between these two

Happy has always been a strong independent women I think having someone sharing her burdens is taking her some getting used to I hope she can learn to share her burdens with Toby

3.07 - l love this episode mostly because Toby looks fine in the overalls and slightly tanned!

Poor Happy she looks so uncomfortable the things she does for love

Happy looking after Ralph is funny she gets an insight of what its like to raise a child

I always like to see Toby in his medical element its when his character really shines

Toby phoning Happy because he knows she needs his support he does his best anticipating her needs

Toby made a rocking chair for Happy so sweet man of many talents

Favourite quote- maybe you could save that costume for the homeymoon

Favourite scene- Happy and Toby talking on the rocking chair both admitting their fears to each other is good progress

3.07 - this episode is funny at the beginning and ends on one of the most emotional scenes I've ever watched

Poor Ralph trying to get a sensible answer from geniuses

This episode touches on a couple of important issues 1. The importance of voting and the implications of voter fraud 2. Pregnancy loss

Happy and Toby seem more of kilter this episode working and talking together and back to shared looks

Is this the first compliment Happy has given Toby

Toby negotiating with the Chinese is a great scene only Toby could do this!

I watch the Happy Toby scene several times- hearing Happys voice crack is heart breaking she had come to terms with the pregnancy and wanted a family so bad

Toby looks destroyed between Happy's pain and his own he tries to comfort her with words but in the end its the action of still wanting to marry her even without the baby which shows her she can lean on him at this difficult time

I would like to think after this they leave and spend some quality time together comforting each other

I love how Toby finally understands and loves Happy enough to give her space and not force physical contact on her because it's not how she deals with lsin even though it's the one thing he needs and I love how Happy eventually learns into to Toby for comfort and provides him with what he needs even though it doesn't come naturally

Favourite quote- I screamed into that crap pile for 20 minutes

Speaking of the fetus I can't wait to meet us when is your overdue pre natal check up

Favourite scene- the end scene with Happy and Toby so superbly acted by Eddie and Jadyn you can feel the emotion and end with Happy finally agreeing to marrying Toby

3.08 -

As Toby and Happy stayed back at the garage I would like to of seen a bit more conversation over the false pregnancy it seems to have been glossed over when in real life this can effect couples for longer then a day or 2

Love how Happy wants to get married straight away she feels the need to secure her family

Toby wants a big wedding

Happy shows real anxiety thinking Toby is having second thoughts but Toby just wants to show of his 'babe' of a wife

Another way Happy shows her love for Toby by agreeing to a big wedding the one thing that makes her really uncomfortable

Favourite quote- my baby's got a heart of gold

Whats the scoop kitten

You're a softie - be glad I am because that is why your getting a bug wedding - really- if that grumpy can smile at his wedding maybe this grump can too

Favourite scene- each quintis scene they may only be short scenes but they really show there love for each other in their own unique ways

3.09 - the next few episodes lack quintis scenes many rumours why this is I think Toby and Happy are dealing with a lot out of work so use work times a chance to get some space and thinking time

Although they are not in many scenes the ones they are in show they are comfortable in their relationship

Favourite quote- Walter if my Turkey is not cooked in time your goose will be

Sweetheart you have some explaining to do

Grandmas a jail bird

Favourite scene- Toby getting pelted by golf balls is always funny

3.10- not much quintis in this. I have come to the conclusion this means that are settled into a relationship and comfortable with each other they simple exist together

Toby agreeing that he knows what it's like not to be a great guy with no direction before meeting a special women. I think the playboy life was a bit much and Happy obviously disagreed to. I hope she liked hearing Toby admit how she had changed him for the better

Favourite quote- I smell a rat a ripe raw rat

Favourite scene- no favourite scene but a nice episode I like that Ralph teaches veronica a valuable lesson

3.11 love this Christmas episode send favorite next to the one in season 2

Toby's jumper is horrific

I love that Toby is trying to make perfect Quintis memories for Happy trying to erase the memories of the past

Happy must really love toby dressing up in order to get Toby's present plus she knows him well enough to know she couldn't make him something without him knowing

Toby and his costume fetish poor Happy the things she must have to wear to get Toby's motor running

Love Toby and Happy snuggled up together I think Happy is trying to keep Toby Happy

Toby showing his immature side by pointing out Tim was photo shopped out of the picture

Happy is like a sister to Sly I like their relationship

Toby looks so happy that Happy loves her gift if a little hurt by her lack of thanks but her gift more then makes up for it

I would like to think they have there own Quintus Christmas at home after

Favourite quote- ok you heard my lady let's home alone their arses

I'm a pissed off ex navy seal and even I'm scared of her

Favourite scene- Happy and Toby exchanging gifts

3.12 - fantastic episode the team working well together

Toby is amazing in this episode what a doctor!

Ahhh Happy loves having Cabe around he is like a surrogate dad

Now Happy is with Toby her jokes and sarcasm are flowing

Toby is always confident to tell Happy how he feels or how hot she looks no matter who is with them

Everyone has faith in Toby no jokes today

Quintis work so well together with Toby there Happy can overcome her fear of blood. Toby needs Happy and he knows how hard it is for her to deal with blood. There he is with his soft voice he uses just with her

I would of liked to have seen Happy tell Toby how amazing he did

Toby looks like he has had a rough day looked like he was going to throw up at one point, it must be very hard and emotional to work on your friend/father figure. I hope he manages to unload and Happy provides support to him when they get home

Favourite quote- winner winner fermented fish dinner

Isn't that the cutie who's hot for your bootie

Sly I'm wearing Cabe on me like a sock puppet sterile went along time ago

You kiss me with that mouth

Hey, I'm really proud of you

So many great funny quotes in a tense episode

Favourite scene- any scene where Toby is being a doc he really is amazing

3.13 - this episode shows the light hearted quintis its nice to see them back to normal

Walter and his conch is a recipe for disaster

The thought of them both up all night discussing wedding venues is too much I love to imagine at home Quintis

Happy is particularly touching in this episode hold Toby's hand and she is the one instigating looking at the winery as a wedding venue

Toby is pissed how funny 🍷🍷

Cute quintis kiss Happy pulling Toby towards her

They work completely in sync with each other

Walter using his 197 IQ to override everyone's opinions

Happy actually chooses a wedding venue then Toby admits he is in debt love he expects Happy to overreact yet..... she is also in debt doesn't blow up at Toby such growth

They are both just desperate to get married dont care where. Happy has really developed emotionally she is not afraid of bring with Toby now and is actively wanting her family

Favourite quote- my opponent is a dork I win

Why dont we roam around the grounds there could be a sweet spot to tie the knot

You drive I'm pickled

Favourite scene- quintis at the winery and quintis talking wedding venues

3.14 - I think ive said this for the last few episodes but I love how easy their relationship is at the moment gentle banter, loving looks and advice they are in a great place

Love that even before they were together they had their own secret projects likd the Waltercon something they had just between the 2 of them

Both Toby and Happy know and are open about Happy bring able to deal with Walter emotionally or not as the case may be

Favourite quote- you will be the first politician taken down by a never had sex tape

I dont have time to babysit that emotional stunted genius

Favourite scene- Happy and Toby showing paige the Waltercon

3 15 - perfect Toby episode funny Toby moments plus heartfelt Quintis moments

Toby fulfilling a childhood fantasy of being a pirate I think he had to he fo grown up as a child with his parents that he never got the chance to play smart being a pirate

Toby getting bored is funny shows how a genius mind needs to be kept active

Toby being the hero is very rarely seen, seeing him jump to rescue Toby is great to see even with a cheese knife in his mouth

Happy has grown and is now more comfortable in airing her concerns and fears with Toby.

She loves him so much that she fears that he will get bored with her Toby needs to reassure her how much she means to him everyone else knows his love for her but her past still makes her worry

Favourite quote- you are the treasure I've been searching for my whole life

Toby hold onto your frilly hat I see something coming into view

Favourite scene- Happy showing her fears that Toby will get bored with her

3.16 - this episode shows just because quintis arnt together doesn't mean they dont have each others backs.

The emotion Happy shows in this episode just goes to show the depth of Jadyns acting ability she really nails these scenes

Toby looks good in any type of hat 🧢

Toby knows Happy needs a bit of space before ge goes too her so her comforts Cabe before going to provide Happy with the comfort and support she needs

Favourite quote- that is not a coat hook it is a coat rook

Love bug we'll check in with you later, Paige it's time to carbo load

Look what I learned from my main squeeze

Favourite scene- Happy watching her dad go to prison such raw emotion

3.17 - so much about this episode I love one of the best quintis episodes so far

Happy is now so comfortable in her relationship that she openly displays affection by resting her feet on Toby may not seem like a big deal for for Happy this is huge

Toby makes a great surrogate uncle always providing Ralph with great advice even when it's hard to hear

Toby is so worried about Happy and feeling helpless as he cant be there with her

Another superb acting job by Jadyn the emotion she puts in is heart wrenching

Happys biggest fear is Toby rejecting her I love that Toby got to realise this and it proves how much she does love him and she admits she is perfect for Toby

God that speech from Toby melts me everytime his soft voice his love for Happy is probably my favourite scene of all seasons so far

Happy sees Toby in front of her he is her security and what age needs

Favourite quote- my biggest regret in life is that we didnt meet when we were 8 cause I would have fallen in love with you from that moment, the truth is you've never been alone my love for you has always been there it just took a while for our paths to cross so I could share it with you and underneath all those neuro toxins in your head you know I'm right. You have nothing to be scared of ever

Favourite scene- Toby talking Happy out of her hallucination

3.18 - now Happy has a family and lover she is branching he friendship circle even if it is online

Toby is very concerned when Hsppy goes off on her own

My question is who does Hsppy call Walter or Toby - I like to think its Toby hes always the one she turns too

Toby knows this is something Happy needs to manage so he supports her without taking control

l love how Happy calls on Toby everytime she is worried about Ava and how Toby calls Happy out for her lack of friends

Favourite quote- do you know how long it's been since I slept, I need my jammies

You must be Walter, Happy said you were a wackadoodle

Favourite scene- opening scene especially when Happy throws the wrench

3.20 - a great quintis episode which is funny yet shows their love for each other

Seeing them in therapy is a great step and the fact Happy initiated it shows how much Toby means to her and in Toby's eyes she can do no wrong

Watching Tobh attract the monkey always makes me giggle how Eddie Kaye Thomas did this without falling apart is beyond me. Always great acting whether funny or serious

Although Happy is perceived as slightly mean in this episode if you think of all the other episodes she is never this mean and he loves it anyway her sarcasm and his immaturity are part of what attracts them to each other

Toby in his denim shirt 🔥🔥

Favourite quote- she's my spicy Asian noodle

Wow nobody looks good in that hat

The hat and I are one

Whats Toby talking about - a pile of crap - doesn't he always

Favourite scene- Happy and Toby in therapy

3.21 - nice to see Happy involved in wedding prep even if its begrudgingly

Happy and Toby working in sync together show that he helps Happy with mechanical projects in the garage and in the field. Happy never would of allowed anyone to help her mechanical so she now must trust Toby

Happy struggles knowing his to deal with a girl friend like Paige she obviously hasn't had any before Paige giving her a valuable lesson in friendship

Poor Toby having to electrocut Happy even with her permission, knowing you are causing pain to the person you love cant be easy

He looks so concerned for Happy when he pulls them off the rope

Hsppy doesn't want to let Toby down I love how she looks at him with pure love

Favourite quote- get ready for Sly heartbreak in 3 2 1

Man they sound like they've been married for years

You cant get rid of me that easily Quinn

Favourite scene- Paige and Happy talking in the ambulance it truly shows Happys trud feelings and worries about the wedding but solidifies her feelings are strong for Toby

3.22 - I don do wonder how much they pay Eddie kaye thomas as he always has to do things that make him look stupid

Happy Quinn is at a spa a sight no one would ever have predicted

Oh Walter where is your romance

Even though Happy tells Toby and Walter to shut it over the Astriod / Meteor debate she continues to call it a meteor showing her alliance with Toby

Favourite quote - Walter weddings are about love and magic and hope.

Well I would love to hope they buck the trend, but the best approach is preparation and magic is nonsense.

Why does Superfun guy have a helicopter when he can fly?

Its for when he gets tired

Favourite scene- Quintis at the Spa - completely out of character yet they seem so at ease

3.23 - quintis on batchelor parties this I would love too see

Happy struggling to adjust to Toby moving in with her. You don't see Quintis disagreeing often to reassuring to see it does happen as with every norms couple

Happy worrying about Toby is always great to see as its usually the other way round

Happy doesn't deny having sexy dreams about Toby!

Happy and Toby are willing to do what they can to make there relationship work counselling, making room for each others things

Favourite quote- she's hotter then a street corner Rolex

I kissed paige on the rocket - you should of kissed her on the mouth

Maybe you had a sexy dream - gross - there's nothing gross about them there perfectly normally Happy has them about me all the time ' gross

Favourite scene- Happy giving Toby the framed picture all these scenes over this half of the season shows how much she loves him in her own unique way

3.24 - this episode ❤❤❤❤❤

When I first watched it I was confused as the episode went on why are they working on their wedding day but as I rewatched it I realised how completely Quintis the episode is a perfect nod to an amazingly unique relationship

Toby couldn't comprehend Happy looking at Ryan Gosling only the suit

Happy getting bolshy at Walter with the fear he will screw up her wedding day for all her hard shell exterior she wants the perfect wedding

Happy not keen on flowery wedding vows Toby knows this and Happy knows Toby is the one for words

They are both devested thecweddingvis seemingly cancelled

Best thing Paige has done in all the episodes impromptu wedding!

Both Toby and Happy stay true to themselves Happy in a simple dress understated hair and make up and black boots! Toby in his American Pie tux and converse trainers

Tobya face when Happy walks down the alse stunned, in love, in awe that one look says it all every girl dreams of finding someone to look at them the way Toby looks at Happy

At crunch time all Toby can say is I love you he is actually speechless

Happys vows are beautiful honest and very Happy they blow Toby away

Does anyone else notice its Happy who is leading the way very quick to say I Do and goes to kiss Toby as soon as they are pronounced husband and wife

I love Eddie kaye thomas dance moves

The only thing I dont like about this episode is the writers chose this episode to put Paige and Walter together

Happy has secrets..........

Favourite quote- happy saw Ryan duckling wearing a tux like that in a movie poster

Its Gosling and she lingered, she likes the threads

You ever think she lingered on Gosling

No

Favourite scene- wedding vows don't need to say anymore

3.25 / 3 26- highly tense episode love seeing Quintis transition to husband and wife

2nd time we actually hear the words I Love You from Happy

Loving Toby's medical abilities in this episode

Happy has more secrets not as big as being married to Walter but she needs to start opening up to Toby

Poor Toby learning lots of new facts about the love if his life

Working together as a great team as always Toby has obviously been watching Happy work as he is getting better at engineering work. Happy thinking like a doc as well

Its nice to see Toby can be annoyed with Happy its usually the other way round

Love Happy speech she doesnt show her love often but when she does its honest and real. Her marriage to Toby means a lot to her and she realises that her past has lead her to her future

Favourite quote- please remain in your seats until the captain turns off the crap your pants sign

Who's Jake Gylinhall is he related to that Gilligan fellow

Oh so my physic needs some fine tuning, it's not Gylinhall enough for you

Sorry about that we were just looking to grab a couple of coconuts - me too

Favourite scene- Happy telling Toby outfit all the things she's been or will ever be, being his wife is her favourite

Happy and Toby having some private time and Ralph and Cabe catching them

[chikkampli]

That one crappy 7 page angsty Saiouma fic NOBODY asked for (vague mentions of suic*de i guess???)

It was just another day.

  Another day in which the unstoppable Supreme Leader of Evil™ was bawling his eyes out.

  Kokichi didn't know why he was crying, he just was. Who am I kidding, of course he knew why he was crying, but this wasn't a common occurrence. The small, purple-haired male knew his mental stability was slowly deteriorating and falling away into nothing, but he still kept up his act of being the unbreakable and strong leader. Nobody understood that he just *had* to keep up this facade; it was the only thing keeping him from feeling even more emotionally vulnerable than he already felt. He hates it, he hates everything and everybody. He hates his parents, he hates his classmates, everybody.

  He hated how they let him suffer. He hated how they never asked if he was okay. He hated how nobody cared. He hated that he was treated like he didn't matter. He hated that everybody hated him, so he had to act like the actual villain. Kokichi knew nothing was his fault, he tried telling himself that every single day. His inner voice chanting things like It's not your fault. They're just messed up people. You're a good person. It's not your fault. But now...he just felt like he was lying to himself. He made them hate him. The Supreme Leader of Evil™, Kokichi Oma, made everybody hate him. Why? Because he sucked.

  He was weak and frail, too kind for his own good. He was taken advantage of. And that's why people hated him in the past. Now, he's become stronger. Stronger in a sense of hiding your true feelings behind fake confidence, malice, and lies. Now that's why people hated him now. He is no good, messed up, stupid, unworthy of forgiveness, and a liar. That was the part people hated about him so, so much.

  His lies. He lied so much that it made people assault him multiple times before, but he always got back at them with his petty nature, often succeeding. People hated how he always got his way, no matter what. And his way was what most people call "bad". That his way was the worst way humanly possible.

  Kokichi sniffled, “...This...this is what you wanted right? For people to hate you? Stop being a baby and man up. You chose to be this way, you chose to be the villain. You made this decision on your own. Don't go crying over how you're all sad and lonely and unloved. You are a nuisance,  and you will always be a nuisance. You stupid, low-life liar.”

   His tone gradually became more and more angry each letter he spit out, “You're so stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! Continue how you are! Nobody will ever love you and nobody will ever help you. You're happiest this way,” his voice was wavering, “Y-You're happiest this way. Nobody...Nobody will ever mistreat you ever again. You're so smart. The greatest!” 

   Kokichi chuckled a bit, until he started laughing as loudly as he could. “AHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHA AAAAAAA! NEE-HEEHEE...HEE...Hee...hee...heh…” The boy started breaking down into tears again, shaking uncontrollably. He couldn't help it. Today was the worst.

  “Try to catch me if you can, Harumaki-chan!! Maki-Roll! Harukawa-san!! Maki-chan! Nee-heehee!” Kokichi ran as fast as he could around the school, hiding in every place possible. His small frame was handy after all, being 5 '1 AND 19 (almost 20) had its perks. Why was he running from the female assassin, you may ask? Well the answer was simple.

   He stole her promise ring. Only because they had a rivalry going on. Definitely not because he was jealous of Maki Harukawa finding a person she loved and not him (Spoiler alert: he was jealous because of that!). He spotted the boys’ locker room, clearly having a chance to hide and rest before moving on, he ran inside. He stopped running once he entered the boy's locker room. He tried to take in as much air as he could quietly and started to regulate his breathing. He looked around. ‘Hm...it's empty in here. That's weird.’ Kokichi held back a chuckle as he decided to hide in one of the lockers. Yes, he was that small. Once he was fully inside and in a comfortable position, he covered his mouth with his left hand, breathing quietly through his nose, and used his right hand to fish for the ring in his pocket. The moment he set his hands on it, he felt around in his other pocket for his phone. He hadn't had a good look at it since he basically stole it and got caught by the one and only Maki Harukawa. He turned on his phone and shined the brightness onto the ring, it was gorgeous in every single possible way a ring could be. It was a golden ring, with leaves and vines engraved on it, leading up to the gem. It was a crimson-colored gem, Kokichi assumed it was a ruby, he wasn't good with jewels at all. The ruby complimented the whole entire ring, making it 10000× more beautiful. On the perimeter of the ring were white, clear gems. Kokichi assumed that they were diamonds.

   On the inside was a sentence. The engraved words said, “Forever mine, Kaito Momota”. Kokichi almost felt bad. Almost. This was a very pretty ring. ‘For a very ugly girl.’ Kokichi snickered at his butthole-eyness. It was very classic, but it never gets old. He looked down at the ring and decided that he should return it to Maki as soon as possible. He always returned the things he stole from his classmates, but this one was urgent. He had return it ASAP. He didn't know why he felt like he had to, maybe it was because he felt a bit of compassion for his arch nemesis. Or maybe because he felt he was stealing a symbol of love. Kokichi didn't know. He smiled, Kaito really loved her. Even though Kaito was always at his neck for things he did, Maki and Kaito made a cute couple. Kokichi would've felt horrible if something like this happened to one of his real-life OTPs. Kokichi sighed contently and exited the locker.

   Once he got out, he stretched his petite body. He was sure he hadn't been in there for long, but his limbs were kind of stiff. But the thing is, he was there for a long time. He just lost track of time. He walked out of the locker room, only to see a raging Kaito sprinting towards him. ‘Well shit.’ Once Kaito caught up to him, he slapped the Kokichi. 

   Kokichi stumbled back a few steps and looked up at the male, hand touching where he slapped him. The smaller boy started grinning. “Well...that was different from your usual punch. What's the hold up, Momo-kun? Kaito? Hero?”

   Kaito clenched his teeth, “You know what I want. So give it to me. Now!” 

   This was unusual for Kaito. He would usually be more reckless and loud, but this time...the rage was quietly emitting off of him. The negative energy present, even in a 50-mile radius. Kokichi felt nervous, but he didn't show it. The purple-haired fetus put on a bored expression, “Geez, fine, here's the stupid ring.” He flung it at his chest, the gem reflecting the sun beautifully. Man, Kokichi was *super* jealous. “What does it matter anyway? You guys are probably gonna get divorced or whatnot, so why promise something that might not happen? Hey, where's Maki anyway? I'm surprised she isn't here,” he gasped dramatically, “Is she scared of me? O-Omigod. Score-!”

   “Shut up.” Kaito stared at Kokichi, his purple eyes glowing. Like Maki's, but Maki's is way more intense. “You have no idea what you've done, do you even know how important that ring is to the both of us? No, you don't. Why? Because you don't have anybody to love, and nobody to love you back. Isn't that right, Kokichi?”

   Kokichi's bored expression didn't falter. Moments later, it turned into a huge grin. He was so good at acting like nothing phased him at all. “Aw, Kaito! Your words are pathetic! A Supreme Leader of Evil™ doesn't need or want anybody to love them, or anybody to love! Oh my GOD, you're so dumb! Look,” he chuckled, “you already have the ring. Go back to your little Harumaki or whatever. You're wasting my precious time!” he stomped his right foot onto the ground, smirking smugly as he looked Kaito in the eyes. “Read my lips. I. Don't. Care.”

   Kaito exhaled deeply, trying to not beat the other boy until he's dead. “...I'll see you later, Kokichi.” He walked off leaving a grinning Kokichi alone.

   Once Kokichi was sure Kaito left, and more importantly, that he was alone, he sighed sadly. His grin turned into a frown, and his once confident pose turned into an insecure slouch. No, he was not going to cry right now, not today, not ever. Crying is for the weak, you can’t cry! Kokichi Oma, the Supreme Leader of Evil™, cannot cry! The people who look up to your evil cannot see this act of weakness. It’s pathetic, and a supreme leader is not pathetic! Kokichi Oma is not pathetic! Kokichi told himself this for the remainder of the day, before he came home from school. Those words that came out of Kaito’s mouth really hurt him. He had never expected someone like...like Kaito to tell him that he was basically unloveable. It only further proved to him that his entire existence was a mistake. It should be erased. Nobody needs someone like himself in this world. He only causes problems and...and he doesn’t deserve love. He doesn’t deserve life. He is just a waste of space. A waste of life. His life is meaningless. He only brings despair and all those negative feelings into the world, so why should he exist? Why should people like him exist?

   Kokichi Oma deserves to die.

·                    ·

·                    ·

·                    ·

·                    ·

   Kokichi took several deep, shaky breaths, trying to calm himself. He didn’t need nor want to be in this emotional state so he tried breathing exercises. It didn’t work, he relapsed into, once again, ugly sobbing. 

   “Why…? Why? Why am I like this?! What did I do to deserve this? Maybe it’ll just be better if I just die.”

   Little did he know, a certain navy blue-haired male was listening on the other side of the wall, devastated at the state his neighbor was in. Their apartment walls were thin, and Shuichi Saihara was Kokichi Oma’s next-door neighbor. Shuichi was just enjoying his evening tea and reading one of his new mystery novels he picked up at the bookstore, when he heard quiet sobs from the wall. He ears were immediately fixated on the sobs, but he didn't know if he should comfort the boy next door or not, so he kept quiet and tried to focus on his novel, but he couldn’t. The sobbing had gotten louder and louder, and even sentences started coming out. Shuichi felt very uncomfortable. Then it stopped for a few moments, shaky breaths and little hiccups resounding in his bedroom. After those moments, Kokichi started to cry even louder than before. ‘I can’t just leave him alone…he’s obviously hurting! I have to help him in any way I possibly can! Maybe talking through the wall might help...since his sobs are so prominent…’

   Shuichi bookmarked the page he was on and scooted over to the wall the sobs were most prominent. He was a little reluctant to speak, he didn't know how to comfort the other person. Once he had fully prepared himself, he spoke. “Hello? Do you need somebody to talk to?”  Shuichi spoke like he was doing a school or work presentation. 

   The sobbing abruptly stopped, the person’s breathing was still uneven and little hiccups could be heard. Shuichi fidgeted. Was this a bad idea? Probably. Some people get nervous and anxious around new people. It was quiet for a moment until a weak, hoarse voice called out.

   “Am I going crazy? Oh god, no. I don’t want a voice inside my head! Not now, not ever! Go away, you stupid voice!”

   The vulnerability and harshness of the voice startled Shuichi for a second, then he spoke up. “I’m not a voice inside your head, I’m your neighbor. My name’s Shuichi Saihara. I want to help you. I heard you...crying on the other side of the wall. Today was horrible, wasn’t it?”

   Kokichi stayed quiet for a moment. He was caught! Oh, the embarrassment he has to deal with later! But for now, he didn’t care. He wanted and needed anything to make him feel better. 

“Kokichi Oma. My name is Kokichi Oma.”

   Shuichi recognized that name. It was the name of the person Maki and Kaito hated so much. They said he had no sympathy, no true emotions, and that he couldn’t genuinely cry. That Kokichi Oma was heartless. Shuichi never believed that, and he definitely doesn’t believe that now. This Kokichi Oma was crying. Sobbing. 

   “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kokichi. So...let’s start with the basics. What happened today that made you feel the way you feel right now?”

   Kokichi shifted into a more comfortable position, and leaned a bit closer to the wall. His bed wasn't touching the wall, so it would've been impossible to touch it without falling over. “Well, I deserve to feel this way. I took my arch nemesis’s promise ring. I know, a pretty shitty move if you ask me. Well anybody, really. I knew it was a shitty move. I have to be the villain after all. Don’t pretend you didn’t know what I said to myself before you butted in, I know you heard it. These walls are so hopelessly thin,” Kokichi frowned at the thought. Somebody just had to hear him sobbing his little heart out. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. “Anyway...I do a lot of unnecessary things. Like stealing, teasing, just to make people hate me. So I stole her promise ring. Then her boyfriend found me, I guess he already knew I took it so he got scarily mad and ordered me to give it back to him. I did, but I threw it at his chest. Classic Kokichi move. I basically told him that they were probably gonna get divorced or break up anyway so it wouldn’t matter in the long run,” Kokichi yawned, all this crying made him kind of sleepy. “He got mad and then told me that basically nobody loves me. And he couldn’t be any more right then. I, being me, told him that he was stupid for thinking that was an insult because I don’t need anybody to love or anybody to love me. But his words stuck with me. It made me think about my whole life from beginning to end. How I was abused, to the bullies at school, to my parents, even the rest of my family. Nobody has ever shown me genuine love and genuine patience. Even now they don’t. I put up this front so I couldn’t be hurt anymore...but everything hurts so much. I can’t take it anymore, Shuichi. I can’t!”

   “It's okay, Kokichi. Cry it out, I know you're holding your sobs. Everything will be fine within time, it's okay to cry. It's okay to feel vulnerable at times. It's okay. Let it all out,” Shuichi said in the most melodic and comforting tone he could muster, hoping and praying it would help the other male in the slightest.

   It was silent for a moment, before he heard soft whimpers. Soft whimpers turned into crying, crying turned into sobbing, and sobbing turned into ugly sobbing. Shuichi swore he could feel the other boy's body shaking and fidgeting. He could feel it.

   “I...I just don't know if I can k-keep on d-doing this, S-Shuichi. I've been lying a-and p-pranking and doing this and that for a-a-all these years and just look at me! I'm not e-even an o-o-ounce stronger than I was before. I'm j-just as w-weak, but now I can hide it better. Nothing changed.”

   Shuichi just listened to the other male. The broken sobs escaping Kokichi's mouth almost made him cry, but he had to stay strong. Kokichi seemed like the person who didn't want their feelings affecting themselves and others, so he'd just have to cry later.

   Kokichi continued, “I'm just the same. They were right. I have no place in this world. I'm not worthy of anything,” he got quiet, his shaky breaths the only thing Shuichi could hear.

   “No, that's wrong! I may not know you that well, but I know damn well that you do have a place in this world, and you ARE worthy of things! You are worth more than you think you do. I can't really say anything about your personality, because I don't know much,” Shuichi voice softened, “but I know you're a very good person deep down. You're just troubled, is all. All you need is a loving environment. And that environment can start with me. I, Shuichi Saihara, will become your friend.”

   The lilac-eyed male went silent. This stranger, he barely knows...wants to be his friend? Does he know what he's getting into? Being friends...with a liar like him. Can this stranger become any stupider? “...I don't think you want that…”

   “I want it, I'm sure of it.”

   “Plenty of people didn't want me in the first place. Why you?”

   “Because I know you're a good person.”

   “I'm not that great. I'm a nuisance.”

   “No you're not. You are very great.”

   “You barely even know me.”

   “So?”

   “So? You have no idea what I'm like normally.”

    “But I know who you are on the inside, and that beats everything.”

   “That's stupid.”

   “No it's not.”

   The two bickered on for a while, before Kokichi finally gave in. “Fine. Don't regret it.”

   Shuichi smiled, “I won't.”

[pseftisincertus]

Jigsaw by Daniel Sloss

"Just because you can find meaning in the art, doesn't necessarily mean that was the meaning the artist necessarily intended to be there.

Take into consideration that you might just be a pretentious fucking cunt, okay? But I understand though when I say, like, life is meaningless.

I do not mean that your life is meaningless.

Your life can have a thousand different meanings or even just one.

I'd recommend��more than one in case you got it wrong.

But to have this core value, this core belief, this core meaning to your life and have it forever is a stupid way to live and really challenging, especially if it's a belief that you picked when you were young.

You have to remember, when you're young, your brain is so maleable, but so Just stubborn, that it takes things on for the rest of your life, and you're not even aware it's there.

It's your subconscious, and I say this from experience.

When I was seven years old, my dad said something to me that to this day is the reason I will die alone.

Very happily, I may add.

But I was seven years old, I didn't know what life was.

I didn't know what existence was, how the fuck would I know? So I thought I'd ask my dad 'cause he can fix a computer, so he must know.

So I was like, "Dad, what do we all do? What's the meaning of life? Why are we all here? What the fuck?" And my dad loves his kids, so he wants to explain to his son in a way that he'll understand, but unfortunately, his son's a fuckhead.

So he has to explain it in a way that a fuckhead will understand, and he accidentally did it perfectly, and it's stuck with me since then.

This is what he said, right? I'm seven years old.

He goes, "All right, buddy. Just imagine that your life, my life. Everyone else's individual life. Imagine all of our lives are like our own individual jigsaw puzzles. As we're going through life, we're just slowly piecing it together, bit by bit, based on experiences and lessons that we've learned, until we get the best picture, but the thing is everyone has also lost the box for their jigsaw. So none of us know what the image we're trying to make is, we're just confidently fucking guessing. So the best way to do a jigsaw, when you don't have the image to work off, is to start from the outside, the sides and the four corners.

Family.

Friends.

Hobbies/interests.

Job.

Now obviously, as you go through life, some of these bits are subject to change.

Sometimes you'll make new friends, and you'll lose contact with old so you gotta move this corner around a bit.

Sometimes you'll get a job.

That means you can't have a certain hobbies.

You gotta decide then, "Do I want more me time or do I want more work time?" You gotta move the stuff around.

Sometimes you'll have a family member that dies, and they'll leave a big hole in your life.

In that moment you'll have to find a way to fill that void, otherwise you'll be incomplete forever.

"Now, that made perfect sense to me, because I was seven years old.

I fucking loved jigsaws.

So I was like, "All right, okay.

So once you've got the stuff on the outside, what's the main bit of the image? What we are all working towards?" And he goes, "Well, that's the partner piece.

You and this perfect person who you've never met before to come out of nowhere, fit your life perfectly, complete you and make you whole for the first time in your life, much like your mother did for me.

" Seven.

Seven years old.

I wish you just said, "Ice cream!" And we could have fucked off.

And even though what he said sounds sweet and whatever, what it manifested in my seven-year-old brain was this, "If you are not with someone, you are broken.

If you are not with someone, you are incomplete.

If you are not with someone, you are not whole.

" And that's not just something my dad made me feel, that's something that we as a society have made every single child born in the last 40 years feel.

Every Disney princess has a prince, every prince has a princess, every television show or movie always has a character in it that doesn't want to be in a relationship.

They're happy with who they are.

But then by the end of the series, guess what.

They were wrong! They were wrong for wanting to be alone, what a fucking idiot.

Everyone needs someone, yeah.

They were just a toasty little marshmallow, weren't they? It's all to do with love.

Divorce, an entirely common thing that there is nothing wrong with.

When you're growing up and your friends' parents get divorced, you're told to not talk about it or mention it to them because it's taboo, and it is taboo is because every relationship on the outside is perfect, because none of us are willing to admit that none of us know what the fuck we're doing.

And when you raise children in that world, where everything points towards love and everything's perfect on the outside, when you've raised them for 18 fucking years, when we become an adult for the first time in our late teens and our early 20s, we're so terrified.

We're so trying to be an adult that some of us will take the wrong person, the wrong jigsaw piece and just fucking jam them into our jigsaws anyway, denying that they clearly don't fit.

Oh, we'll move pieces out the way, I don't need this hobby, I don't need this opinion.

Mom who? The bitch with the tits.

What's she done for me recently? I'm gonna force this fucking person into our lives because we'd much rather have something than nothing.

Then five years later, you're stood looking at a jigsaw you don't recognize, being like, "Ah! There's a fucking cunt in the middle of this.

" Maybe you do meet the perfect person.

Maybe you meet them, you go out.

They make you laugh.

You make them laugh.

They've got a stupid laugh, but you fucking love it.

They like what you like.

They like your idiosyncrasies.

It's great.

It's perfect.

Oh, my God, they've completed you.

For three months.

Every relationship is perfect for three months.

And here's why.

'Cause after three months, that's when you realize that nobody else is a jigsaw piece.

Everyone else on this planet is as deep and as complex and individual as you are, which means they too have spent the last 20 or so years of their life working on their own jigsaw puzzle, in the same way that you've been working on yours.

You can't suddenly expect them to give up everything they've come to achieve to suddenly fit into yours in the same way that you'd be pissed off if they asked you to sacrifice everything you've done, suddenly come fit into theirs, but now, because you like each other and because you're interested in each other, now you have to make a jigsaw together.

And we all know how fucking annoying that is.

But you do it 'cause you're in love and you're interested, and maybe for the first couple years, it's great.

It's like, "Oh, my God, you love this bit of me.

I love this bit of you.

Oh, my God, we got the same thing, yeah!" But time does not equal success.

You can spend five or more years with someone, and only then, after all the fun you had, be looking at the jigsaw and realize you're both working towards very different images.

Only then realize that you want different things.

And in that moment, you have a very, very difficult question to ask yourself.

One.

Do I admit the last five years of my life have been a waste? 

Two.

Do I waste the rest of my life? 55% of marriages end in divorce.

99.

0% of relationships that started before they are 30 end.

If those were the stats for surgery, none of us would fucking risk it.

But because it's love and we're stupid, we just lie on the operating table like, "Maybe this time I won't die inside.

" My generation has become so obsessed with starting the rest of their lives that they're willing to give up the one they are currently living.

We have romanticized the idea of romance, and it is cancerous.

People are more in love with the idea of love than the person they are with.

[actionjaxkol]

Crystal #?? - Interview with Jaxkol

“Alright, Interview... whatever number this is. Trixie Spinwhistle with the Gift of Gob --”

“Wait -- wait so how does this work?”

“I ask you questions and you answer ‘em, babe. S’not rocket surgery.”

“Oh. So what is --”

“Don’t hurt yourself, kid, save the brainpower for the answers.”

BASICS

► Name ➔   “Jaxkol Dawnsedge. Previously Shadowriot. Previously-Previously Shadowfel” ► Are you single ➔ “Nope! Some beautiful weirdo had a terrible lapse in judgement that I am not letting them weasel out of.” ► Are you happy ➔   “I actually don’t remember being this happy before. It’s... nice.” ► Are you angry ➔  “Weirdly, I get angry easier than I used to. Only when people are treating others unfairly though.” ► Are your parents still married ➔   “As far as I know. They’re Nobles, ‘divorce’ isn’t a thing they do. I think my mom has a consort though.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “Silvermoon City” ► Hair Color ➔ “White blond naturally, the illusion makes it grey-black.” ► Eye Color ➔ “Green naturally, blue with illusion. Sometimes I wonder what color they’d be if they didn’t glow. I’m kinda jealous of humans and dwarves and stuff, their eyes can be all different colors.” “Focus, kid.” ► Birthday ➔ “May nineteenth.” ► Mood ➔ “Restless, anxious, eager but shy. Lonely, but the temporary type. At odds with myself” ► Gender ➔ “I’m a guy, but I’m also an elf and on the small side, so I get mistaken for a girl like, once an month. Not as much in Stormwind though, but it’s happened. It’s amusing.” ► Summer or winter ➔ “I dunno. Living on the streets, both suck, but it was easier to cool down than it was to warm up when you’re skinny. I have a home now, so I’m curious to see what winters are like. ...and now I’m thinking of Pryn as a snow bunny. Yeah I definitely want to see Winter.” ► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Afternoons. That’s when everyone is starting to wind down and relax. But lately I’ve had to get up super early for Argent training and watching the sun rise over the harbor is just... spiritual or somethin’.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “I keep... trying to tell myself ‘no’, that I’m being stupid but... yes. I absolutely am.” ► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “So, it kinda works opposite for me. If I fancy someone right off the bat, it’s gonna end bad. If my first thought is like ‘who the fuck do you think you are?’ then we’ll probably be friends forever. Or mortal enemies. Like, Noah and I fought when we first met, but we were friends until.... Anyhow. Jiang and I hit it off immediately, but fucker was married. I hated Vyn when we first met, but... I trust him with my life now, he’s my brother. Totegar I was smitten with from the start and he.. Yeah. Let’s not talk about him. I didn’t know what to make of Pryn at first, I thought she was my exact opposite and that we’d be at odds but she’s my best friend. Oh shit, and Izzy! I was fucking scared shitless of him when we met and now he’s my baby brother!” “Yes or no would’a sufficed, kid.” ► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “Totegar was afraid to come to terms with being gay, so he kinda settled for me. I was safe and harmless and non-threatening. When he figured out that sleeping with another guy wouldn’t bring about the next Cataclysm, he dropped me like a bad habit and went after someone better. Like. The very next morning. ...It’s whatever.” ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔  “I wanna say ‘no’ but, I mean, maybe? I know I really hurt Jiang’s wife, Yue, when I told her but... I didn’t know so I couldn’t stop it. I might have broken Red’s heart by telling him no. Over and over and over again. And probably a few more times to come...” ► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “I’m not afraid to throw myself body and (what’s left of my) soul into things, but I’m terrified that I’m going to let people down...” ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Yeah! I used to be really afraid of contact, anytime anyone touched me it was ya know. Never for good stuff. Vyn started making a point to hug and touch me just in a friendly way. And then I get to the Keg and people aren’t afraid to hug me and it’s.. Nice.” “Man, you are a talker...” “Sorry...” “Nah, this is good.” ► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “I don’t... think so? I’m just amazed I have not-secret admirers.” ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “Yeah... a lot. Like... daily. Wait is that not normal?” “...No, kid.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “Love. I mean, I think you need some lust in a relationship, but you need that love first. Otherwise it’s just... meaningless.” ► Cats or Dogs ➔ “So my sister Jaelys used to have a cat, and she loved that damn thing. In Silvermoon, cats are everywhere, right? But this one used to like, ride on her shoulder and sleep in her lap while she studied. She even got it this pretty collar and like... we didn’t have spending money so I don’t know how she got it. Anyhow, my brother I guess didn’t like it as much, cuz when he was rising into the Fel arts, he used the cat for a ritual. I’ve never seen my sister cry, but... I did see something die in her eyes when he brought her the little body...” “...Kid?” “...Hmm? Oh! ...Dogs. I like dogs.” ► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “I get... really attached to people fast. Like, if I’m going to get close to someone at all, I’m in for everything. So... probably a few best friends. But I’m friends with everyone until they give me a reason not to be! Hey, like a dog I guess!” ► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “It’s hard to say. I really like going out and getting that energy out, but being alone with someone special, just... watching them do those little, meaningless, private things that make up their secret world... It’s so beautiful I never want to leave it.” ► Day or night ➔ “Day is hot and involves a lot of running. Night.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Growing up it never crossed my mind to disobey. If had to leave the apartment for any reason, I got permission from either Mother, or Father or failing that one of my two eldest siblings. Jaelys and I always had to have escorts. When I was living with Vyn for a while, I’d sneak out if... my brain started eating itself, I guess. He always found me though. So. Yes?” ► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Yeah my feet and I don’t always communicate correctly. I’ve tripped over my own shadow.” ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Yes... But it’s this weird, beautiful pain. I like being close to her because when she’s not there, I can’t believe that I have someone so amazing in my life. If I told her that she’s just call me stupid and whack me with her tail though.” ► Wanted to disappear ➔ “...yes... I have disappeared a few times. I can’t... seem to make it stick though. I guess for the best.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “I like a smile that takes up the entire face. I mean the kind that makes the eyes bright like the stars. I like it when the mouth and the eyes agree with eachother. Izzy has an amazing smile that just lights up everything. Vyn’s is strong, protective, kinda like Ash’s. Jiira’s has secrets. Pryn’s has light that like... changes colors. Vali’s is hard and cold, but there’s fire beneath it. Drex’s is mischief. Kae is fire, white hot or smouldering embers, rarely anything in between. Aida... Aida is made of chocolate and cheesecake and -- oh shit chocolate cheesecake that’s a great idea.” “What about mine?” “...Sharp. Your smile is a blade and your eyes cut through people...” ► Shorter or Taller ➔ “I got a thing for people bigger than me. Which I guess isn’t hard.” ► Intelligence or Attraction ➔  “Humor. I’m not smart, so everyone is more intelligent than me. And I don’t.. really get attracted to people’s outside the same way other people do I guess. I don’t go ‘DAMN that dude has a nice ass, I must pursue him’ it’s more like... ‘your personality is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, I need to see every angle of it, good or bad’. Fuck, I would probably fall for a blighted murlock if we got along well enough.” ► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “I’ve done the hookup thing, it doesn’t... it just... makes that void worse. Like drinking saltwater.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ “No.” “...what that’s it? Kid you’ve rambled on ‘cat versus dog’ and that’s all I get?” “I... failed. I’ll pay for it when my luck runs out, but.. No. Three sisters, two brothers, and my parents - no we don’t get along.” ► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “I really don’t think so, but I’ve been told otherwise. I think everyone goes through their awful shit, just cuz mine is more colorfully explosive, doesn’t mean it’s any more messed up than anyone elses’.” ► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “Not before the Incident, and after that, I didn’t exactly have a home to run away from. I ran away from Vyn when I was supposed to be staying with him and got overwhelmed, but I don’t think that’s the same thing.” ► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “Yeah.” “...is that all you’re gonna say on that?” “Yeah.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “What?? No that’s fucked up. We might not get along, but I don’t hate anyone.” ► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “I mean, some are better or closer than others, but I think everyone is exactly how they need to be.” ► Who is your best friend ➔ “Ah shit, hard question. I don’t have just one ‘best’ friend, they’re all amazing in their own ways. Sera is pretty awesome, I love Izzy. Kae is amazing and strong and I envy her. Pryn knows me probably better than Vyn at this point. Aida is adorable...I can’t... really answer this. Though now I’m curious if I’m anyone’s best friend.” ► Who knows everything about you ➔ “Pryn or Vynlluthein.”

(Art by @attractive-zombies Big ole stack of art here. )

Tagging: @attractive-zombies @wests-wow-gang @rouilleandcompany @lemmeaxeyousomething

[java-induced-daymares]

I feel like you get a different perspective when you were the 'mistake'. The 'oh my God she's only fifteen', baby. My mom was the preacher's daughter, and very eighties. I'm the preacher's granddaughter, and extremely nineties. My mom is more like my sister-friend, while my five year junior sister tells everyone I practically raised her. I just feel responsible for everyone. For everything. I was the tester baby. The starter grandchild. Everything I did wrong, it was the worst, most unexpected thing. I paved the way for all the shrugs and acceptance every sibling and other grandkid had doled out practically for free. And got slammed with all the guilt and the shunning.

To be fair I was quite rebellious. I smoked, drank, experimented with drugs. Skipped class, and barely passed high school despite aceing every test and final they threw at me. Scored a solid 29 on the ACT, didn't even study. In fact, I left half the math portion blank. I hate math. I frustrated my parents to wits end. I had all the potential, none of the ambition. I wanted to smoke pot, write whatever popped in my head and just make enough money to get by. So in idealistic youth I flipped the bird to college tuition debt in favor of entering the work force.

Somehow along the line I ended up thirty years old as a entry level temp at a factory. The disappointing burnout my parents painted me to be. My mom once threatened to paint that word on my bedroom wall, to call me out so to speak. She wasn't impressed when I encouraged her to. Between mom and me, it's all emotions. I know her as well as best friends do. Like...all of it. Sex life. Financial strife. The works. It's sort of like you don't realize your mom discussing your dad's porn addiction with you when your thirteen is out of line until you grow up. And meet her meth head boyfriend at age twenty four.

He threatens to rape and kill you both but good old mom won't kick him out because she loves him. Not when he starts stealing everything in sight to sell for drugs. Not when he kidnaps her for a few days over Thanksgiving and meths out in a paranoid freakout keeping her in the hotel and not letting her leave. Or when he choked her until she was unconscious. Or raped her so loud you could hear her scream but she denied it and her screams are so frequent that you're learning to tune them out and that disturbs you on every level. Not even when he hits you, right in front of her, the first time and she yells at you for fighting back. Or when she chases your little sister into another state to live with a internet boyfriend who no one but she has met because Ducky fears living in that house more than living with strangers.

My sister was only nineteen. The week before she left my mom called her a selfish bitch for not supporting her relationship. I stood between them, outraged, explaining to my mother that she shouldn't call her child a bitch for being scared. When the meth head finally leaves, having drained a cool 20k from my mom's retirement fund in meth and tools and a Harley ect... my mom claims all these memories are a blur. In her world she is the ultimate victim, and she even blames me for standing by and letting it all happen. My brother, who showed up two months before I finally convinced my mother to get the eviction notice she needed to get the meth head out, gets all the credit for his absence.

He showed up, did meth and herione with the boyfriend and ignored my mom. She still ran to my room, daily, begging and pleading for me and my fiances protection. Some days we would wake up to her huddled by our bed, crying silently, because my fiance was the only thing this asshole feared. Because Heinzy certainly didn't stand by when she or I was threatened or hit. But he wasn't always there. And his probation kept him from throwing a first punch.

Still, my brother, who dodged all the previous months of abuse by disowning her for cheating on her husband with this guy. My brother was living in South Dakota, and calling her a bitch and a whore until he needed a bail out and suddenly he's Mama's little boy again. He gets the title of hero. Savior. Showing up last second and fucking everything up, and being loved for it. That's my brothers modis operandi. And he can't even spell those words.

People flinch when I call my mom a crazy bitch. Glad for them, in their Hallmark homes. Judging me. I still love the woman to death. Would kill for her. Suffered untold horrors just to keep her safe. Yet I can't help but feel this loyalty is a bit one sided. All things considered. And besides. Bitches be crazy.

My dad is her polar opposite. I get my cynical, mean sense of humor from him. I call him a passive aggressive teddy bear. And I feel two sides of my dad. First there's the guy that worked twenty two hours a day to support his family. No, that's not a exaggeration. And shit jobs too. Barely making it, piss on you, fast food, menial shit. It's hard not to respect that. Plus he's never touched or condoned so much as a cigarette or more than two beers that I've ever seen. Getting the shit beat out of you by a druggie alcoholic does that to you. Once, Grandpa "Buddy" even used a horse whip to beat him. Him and grandma talked about the two years they did speed at a Chili's dinner.

But they're rich as hell. Or they were. So it didn't matter. Still doesn't, as far as their putrid minds are concerned. Buy I'm off topic. His evil as fuck adoptive parents aside... My dad's not too bad. He taught me to write DOS code when I was six. How to write a household budget in Microsoft Excel when I was twelve. How to set up a wireless network for a entire office when I was sixteen. Basically he prepared me for the real world. And all it's shitty points. And probably saved me some pain for the effort.

For example, dad tip 101: Don't lend out money and expect or need it back. Only lend what you can afford and be surprised if it's ever repaid. Good tip. Seriously. When I flunked classes and needed summer school, he made me get a job and pay it back. I hated him for it. But after I worked off over a grand in summer school debt at a Chinese hole in the wall restaurant with no working AC, I understood what a dollar was worth. Hence no slavery bond. I mean, as you call them, student loans. Been there. Done that.

But then there's the other side of him. The side that never really wanted kids. The side that accused me of knowing my mom cheated when I actually didn't. My next door neighbor, a herione addict who tagged along on my mom's Easter visit to my brother did. He was there as she stopped, both on the way to and the way from, to fuck the meth head. He didn't tell me. I woke up to my sister alone in the living room crying. Because she had never seen my dad cry before. Neither have I. The only time in known history and I missed it. Poor Ducky, she saw it all.

Sometimes I wish I could erase it all. The Divorce. It happened when I was twenty four, and I thought my parents had fallen into the age old 'i hate you but I'll be with you forever trap'. The fact that they both remarried a year after divorce proves I was either naively hopeful or utterly delusional. Considering the fact that I knew they made each other utterly miserable I have to side with the latter. I just wanted to believe they loved each other in secret. Hell, thanks to my mom I knew they fucked three times a week. I thought that meant something.

Maybe that's why I think sex is pretty meaningless and too important all at once. First off. I won't fuck anyone unless I really want to. Second off. I've only fucked one guy. It wasn't intentional, the one guy thing, it's just the first guy who earned my trust was the first guy I let have me and I fell in love and ten years later he's still never betrayed me. Ever. And he makes me feel like a kid. And we fight. And I hate him sometimes but we never go to bed angry. And I have no kids. I won't be my mother. I don't want her mistakes. I'm creating my own whole new ones. It's both my privledge and my goal to defy everyone's expectations of me, even to my own detriment.

Everyone thinks I aimed low. He even says stupid stuff like how he thinks I'll leave him for someone else. Sometimes. And maybe my mom helped that paranoia along. You see, pre meth head boyfriend divorce, I was pretty found of telling people my mom and I were best friends and so alike. Post fallout, those words came back to haunt me in a big way. I supported her when EVERYONE turned away. Her father. My siblings. They all said she deserved the meth head. They didn't get it. If I left her alone he was going to kill her. Literally. And they turned on me for 'supporting her behavior'.

Go fuck yourselves. I couldn't speak to you all in the moment, and afterward everyone wanted to brush this shit under the rug. But damn it. It fucking scared me. Excuse the fuck out of me for panicking. I was twenty four, sure, a adult by all measures and standards. People don't pity adults. My dad taught me that. Figure shit out and handle it. So I did. And I took zero credit. Letting my mom crown my brother king of all the land, her savior. So in the end I was nothing.

And I didn't say shit. Let my extended family think what they liked. Not in that exact intention. In my head I was like, this.famiky situation is so fucked and so nasty I couldn't bear to tell them. And that left me awkwardly over formal in responses. I should have guessed no one else in my family was that shy. They told all...of their bullshit. And I know that sounds so one sided.

If I were you, I wouldn't trust my perspective on the matter either. After all, perception is defined by experience, and my experience is sure to lead me to be self serving and exploitative. I don't pretend otherwise. This is simply how it felt to me. As I received notices from my pastor grandfather telling me I was living in sin because I hadn't married or gone to church regularly. First off. YOUR only daughter had three kids out of wedlock by three different men. Totally beating the odds here. Thanks. Secondly, and yes I said this, bet your ass I did, I have only had sex with one guy and I promised God he was the one. Law is not religion. All a wedding is, technically, is a profession of exclusivity with your partner before God. I did that. Proved it for ten years. Living in sin? How so? By what biblical standard? Handfasting was a accepted marriage ceremony, Heinzy and I have declared devotion before each other and all else hands held before. It counts. So what is I don't have the legal document? Judge not least ye be judged and all that.

As for church. Ah the constructrial artifice of faith devoid of all passion. Going to church with my grandparents is different. There's something about my grandpa being a pastor, people instantly recognize it and respond to it. I have never, not once, stood in church with my grandpa and not had ten people know someone he knew from congregation or teaching job (he was a private school teacher and even principal too). He doesn't get what it's like, poor as fuck, to show up for service and be mocked by so called Christians. How I disdain their fake pandering. I love God. His houses are often beautiful, the scent of fresh wood and the art of stained glass. But the people inside are ugly and don't reflect Him at all. They just want to puff up their own self worth and indulgence and I hate them for it. But maybe that's just Illinois Lutherans for you.

They ruined church for me. Haven't been since I was in my twenties and I turned thirty two whole weeks ago.

[jonathantaylorthomas]

Taylor Swift's New Album 'Reputation': Everything We Know, Everything We Want

The Old Taylor can’t come to the phone? Long live the New Taylor. Reputation is one of this fall’s most tightly guarded secrets; Taylor Swift’s sixth album is her first in three years, her longest vacation ever. So far, each Swift LP has been a major musical departure. But this time, she isn’t letting any secrets slip, declining interviews and, somehow, avoiding paparazzi detection wherever she may be. All we have to go on is a quote from a source close to the project who tells Rolling Stone, “Reputation is lyrically sharper and more emotionally complex than 1989. This music has and will continue to speak for itself.”

So what do we know about Reputation? We know it has 15 songs; “…Ready For It?” will be the first track and “Look What You Made Me Do” will be the sixth. We know it drops on November 10th, which happens to be Richard Burton’s birthday. (What if that makes Reputation the Burton to Taylor’s Taylor? What if she is about to marry herself and embrace her muse as her soulmate?) It’s one day before the nine-year anniversary of Fearless, which came out in 2008 on November 11th, whereas she usually prefers to pounce in late October, as she did with Speak Now, Red and 1989. So here’s a rundown of all the clues to the burning mysteries around Reputation – what we know for sure, what we wonder, what we want, what we hope.

The sound. The first two singles are moody electro-pop: the Hot Topic quasi-goth blare of “Look What You Made Me Do” (produced by Jack Antonoff) and the hip-hop island breeze of “…Ready for It?” (produced by Max Martin, Shellback and Ali Payami). “Look What You Made Me Do” is Sal-Tay in supervillain mode; “…Ready for It?” is sultrier and far superior. Neither sounds like any of her previous work. But drastic swerves are what Swift does. All five of her previous LPs have developed a sound she could have milked for years – but she’s never made the same record twice, even when that’s what everybody wanted, from her record company to her fans.

Last time the world was hoping for Red II: Fifty Shades Redder, Red III: Revenge of the Scarf or Red IV: Maple Latte Massacre, but instead she made 1989, an album as far from Red as Speak Now was from Fearless. Nobody sane would have advised her, “You know what you should do next? Make an album that sounds nothing like Red, but exactly like Erasure or the Pet Shop Boys.” Yet Swift followed her own muse and turned out to be right – when it comes to high-risk moves that pay off, she’s gone five for five. So whatever she tries on Reputation, it won’t be what she did last time.

The romance. The line that jumps out from “…Ready For It?” is “He could be my jailer / Burton to this Taylor.” Not her usual kind of love story. Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor got married and divorced twice, which by 1970s standards made them the ultimate glamour couple – even Sonny and Cher only got to break up once. Their boozy jet-set affair lasted a total of (hmmm) 13 years, despite the fact that they basically loathed each other. Burton was fond of referring to Liz as “MGM’s Little Miss Mammary,” while she called him “the Frank Sinatra of Shakespeare.” By the time Liz was Swift’s age, she was on Husband Four; Burton was Five (and Six). So Liz and Dick weren’t exactly Romeo and Juliet – their Shakespearean duet was a 1967 film adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew. Fans have speculated the song is her ode to her beau of the past year, British actor Joe Alwyn – currently filming Mary Queen of Scots, where he plays the lover of Queen Elizabeth. Burton once got an Oscar nomination playing her father, King Henry VIII.

The playlist. Her Spotify playlist “Songs Taylor Loves” is loaded with sad weepy ballads – the side of her music missing from the two new singles. It’s also full of younger artists – from pals like Selena Gomez and Ed Sheeran to country upstarts like Maren Morris and Brett Young to indie brooders like the National and Bon Iver. But none of the legendary names Swift usually loves to invoke – the girl named after James Taylor isn’t bumping “Fire and Rain” these days. Is the playlist representative of her new music? Or is she digging these tearful ballads because she’s no longer writing them?

The cover. She’s wearing black lipstick, clearly a sign that Old Taylor is dead, given her affection for the red-lip classic thing. She gazes blearily through newspaper headlines spelling her name – math experts have counted her name on the cover 899 times. The cover’s weirdest detail: the Richard Hell-like torn sweatshirt, stitched up to create five triangular peaks, one for each previous album.

The magazines. The exclusive Target edition comes with two different 72-page magazines full of Swift’s poetry, watercolor paintings, handwritten lyrics and fashion photography. (Oh, pop stars – always secretly fantasizing about being editors of print magazines.) Judging from the cover of Reputation magazine, the typographical sensibility evokes the famously experimental (and often illegible) 1990s music mag Ray Gun.

The snakes. She’s teased the album with serpentine imagery – want to buy a $60 Gold Snake Ring? Either she’s a budding herpetologist or she’s reviving her Kimye feud. You remember – from last summer, before Kanye’s 5150 or his rock-bottom moment ass-kissing the new President. But it’s safe to surmise the feud factor will be the least intriguing aspect of Reputation, since her celebrity conflicts have been fruitless musically for all the artists involved. “Look What You Made Me Do” is much stronger than Katy Perry’s “Swish Swish” or Kanye’s “Famous,” but that’s hardly an achievement given how those remarkably wretched gaffes sandbagged the albums they were intended to launch. All evidence indicates that we’re in a post-beef era where nobody cares about pop-star feuds, since we’ve got more pressing problems. Swift sending Cardi B flowers to congratulate her on “Bodak Yellow” hitting Number One – even though it replaced “Look What You Made Me Do” – is much more in step with the 2017 zeitgeist than snake emojis, which are so last year. And you have to love how Cardi B made sure to document the flowers on Instagram, to thwart any would-be Cardor truthers.

The Drake factor. Be on guard for Drizzy content. Last year, while the rumor mill was full of reports of them hanging out and possibly working together, the two did linked Apple Music ads, one with Taylor lip-synching the Drake/Future collabo “Jumpman” and the other with Drake doing “Bad Blood.” Since Aubrey Graham is the only pop star on earth who can approach Tay’s feelings-per-minute ratio, the mind reels at how they might sound together – let’s just say they could go from zero to 100 real quick.

The shirt. The “Look What You Made Me Do” video ends with an attention-grabbing shot of Swift in a “Junior Jewels” t-shirt decorated with her friends’ names. Squadologists plotzed at the roll call, from Patrick Stewart (he’s on it twice? Make it so!) to Abigail (the “Fifteen” bestie whose wedding had Swift as a bridesmaid last month). Who’s lurking on the back of the shirt? And who’s a blank space? The most high-profile absence was Karlie Kloss, currently seen in a new Cole Haan ad campaign with well-that-escalated-quickly pal Christy Turlington. (In Elle a few weeks ago, K.K. gushed, “I am surrounded by extraordinary women – from my mom and sisters to role models like Christy Turlington, Melinda Gates, and Sheryl Sandberg, and many more.”) Will Reputation offer a state-of-the-squad update?

The exes. Just because Swift seems to be in a functional relationship, is that any reason she should keep a dignified silence about her Long List of Ex-Lovers? Dignified silence is not this lady’s style. Between Tom Hiddleston and Calvin Harris, she has some real content opportunities. In the new video, Zombie Tay digs a grave marked “Nils Sjoberg,” her ghostwriting pen name; there’s also an empty engagement-ring box. Perhaps she’s mocking Harris for both his career and love life, given that Nils Sjoberg is an anagram for “Jobless Ring”? Or maybe she’s accusing him of swiping her work, since it’s also an anagram for “Robs Jingles”? Or maybe – just maybe – anagrams are meaningless and dumb coincidences?

The tour. One thing Swift has made clear over the years – she’s not into looking back. In the spirit of Madonna or Bowie, when she tours, she focuses on the new songs, not the hits of yesteryear. It was a shocker when she left “All Too Well” off most stops of the 1989 tour, just as she left “Enchanted” and “Long Live” off the Red tour. But given the choice between reprising the oldies or showing off her new songs, she’ll go new every time. And that goes for her albums as well – she’s never been an artist who repeats herself. Don’t expect her to start now. “Honey, I rise up from the dead, I do it all the time”? Bring on the New Tay-stament.

[ts1989fanatic]

Taylor Swift's New Album 'Reputation': Everything We Know, Everything We Want

Predictions, wishful thinking based off electropop lead singles, possible hints about feuds, ex-boyfriends, squad members, where Cardi B, Drake fit in

The Old Taylor can't come to the phone? Long live the New Taylor. Reputation is one of this fall's most tightly guarded secrets; Taylor Swift's sixth album is her first in three years, her longest vacation ever. So far, each Swift LP has been a major musical departure. But this time, she isn't letting any secrets slip, declining interviews and, somehow, avoiding paparazzi detection wherever she may be. All we have to go on is a quote from a source close to the project who tells Rolling Stone, "Reputation is lyrically sharper and more emotionally complex than 1989. This music has and will continue to speak for itself."

From teenage country tracks to synth-pop anthems and little-known covers, a comprehensive assessment and celebration of Swift's one-of-a-kind songbook

So what do we know about Reputation? We know it has 15 songs; "…Ready For It?" will be the first track and "Look What You Made Me Do" will be the sixth. We know it drops on November 10th, which happens to be Richard Burton's birthday. (What if that makes Reputation the Burton to Taylor's Taylor? What if she is about to marry herself and embrace her muse as her soulmate?) It's one day before the nine-year anniversary of Fearless, which came out in 2008 on November 11th, whereas she usually prefers to pounce in late October, as she did with Speak Now, Red and 1989. So here's a rundown of all the clues to the burning mysteries around Reputation – what we know for sure, what we wonder, what we want, what we hope.

The sound. The first two singles are moody electro-pop: the Hot Topic quasi-goth blare of "Look What You Made Me Do" (produced by Jack Antonoff) and the hip-hop island breeze of "…Ready for It?" (produced by Max Martin, Shellback and Ali Payami). "Look What You Made Me Do" is Sal-Tay in supervillain mode; "…Ready for It?" is sultrier and far superior. Neither sounds like any of her previous work. But drastic swerves are what Swift does. All five of her previous LPs have developed a sound she could have milked for years – but she's never made the same record twice, even when that's what everybody wanted, from her record company to her fans.

Last time the world was hoping for Red II: Fifty Shades Redder, Red III: Revenge of the Scarf or Red IV: Maple Latte Massacre, but instead she made 1989, an album as far from Red as Speak Now was from Fearless. Nobody sane would have advised her, "You know what you should do next? Make an album that sounds nothing like Red, but exactly like Erasure or the Pet Shop Boys." Yet Swift followed her own muse and turned out to be right – when it comes to high-risk moves that pay off, she's gone five for five. So whatever she tries on Reputation, it won't be what she did last time.

The romance. The line that jumps out from "…Ready For It?" is "He could be my jailer / Burton to this Taylor." Not her usual kind of love story. Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor got married and divorced twice, which by 1970s standards made them the ultimate glamour couple – even Sonny and Cher only got to break up once. Their boozy jet-set affair lasted a total of (hmmm) 13 years, despite the fact that they basically loathed each other. Burton was fond of referring to Liz as "MGM's Little Miss Mammary," while she called him "the Frank Sinatra of Shakespeare." By the time Liz was Swift's age, she was on Husband Four; Burton was Five (and Six). So Liz and Dick weren't exactly Romeo and Juliet – their Shakespearean duet was a 1967 film adaptation of The Taming of the Shrew. Fans have speculated the song is her ode to her beau of the past year, British actor Joe Alwyn – currently filming Mary Queen of Scots, where he plays the lover of Queen Elizabeth. Burton once got an Oscar nomination playing her father, King Henry VIII.

The playlist. Her Spotify playlist "Songs Taylor Loves" is loaded with sad weepy ballads – the side of her music missing from the two new singles. It's also full of younger artists – from pals like Selena Gomez and Ed Sheeran to country upstarts like Maren Morris and Brett Young to indie brooders like the National and Bon Iver. But none of the legendary names Swift usually loves to invoke – the girl named after James Taylor isn't bumping "Fire and Rain" these days. Is the playlist representative of her new music? Or is she digging these tearful ballads because she's no longer writing them?

The cover. She's wearing black lipstick, clearly a sign that Old Taylor is dead, given her affection for the red-lip classic thing. She gazes blearily through newspaper headlines spelling her name – math experts have counted her name on the cover 899 times. The cover's weirdest detail: the Richard Hell-like torn sweatshirt, stitched up to create five triangular peaks, one for each previous album

The magazines. The exclusive Target edition comes with two different 72-page magazines full of Swift's poetry, watercolor paintings, handwritten lyrics and fashion photography. (Oh, pop stars – always secretly fantasizing about being editors of print magazines.) Judging from the cover of Reputation magazine, the typographical sensibility evokes the famously experimental (and often illegible) 1990s music mag Ray Gun.

The snakes. She's teased the album with serpentine imagery – want to buy a $60 Gold Snake Ring? Either she's a budding herpetologist or she's reviving her Kimye feud. You remember – from last summer, before Kanye's 5150 or his rock-bottom moment ass-kissing the new President. But it's safe to surmise the feud factor will be the least intriguing aspect of Reputation, since her celebrity conflicts have been fruitless musically for all the artists involved. "Look What You Made Me Do" is much stronger than Katy Perry's "Swish Swish" or Kanye's "Famous," but that's hardly an achievement given how those remarkably wretched gaffes sandbagged the albums they were intended to launch. All evidence indicates that we're in a post-beef era where nobody cares about pop-star feuds, since we've got more pressing problems. Swift sending Cardi B flowers to congratulate her on "Bodak Yellow" hitting Number One – even though it replaced "Look What You Made Me Do" – is much more in step with the 2017 zeitgeist than snake emojis, which are so last year. And you have to love how Cardi B made sure to document the flowers on Instagram, to thwart any would-be Cardor truthers.

The Drake factor. Be on guard for Drizzy content. Last year, while the rumor mill was full of reports of them hanging out and possibly working together, the two did linked Apple Music ads, one with Taylor lip-synching the Drake/Future collabo "Jumpman" and the other with Drake doing "Bad Blood." Since Aubrey Graham is the only pop star on earth who can approach Tay's feelings-per-minute ratio, the mind reels at how they might sound together – let's just say they could go from zero to 100 real quick.

The shirt. The "Look What You Made Me Do" video ends with an attention-grabbing shot of Swift in a "Junior Jewels" t-shirt decorated with her friends' names. Squadologists plotzed at the roll call, from Patrick Stewart (he's on it twice? Make it so!) to Abigail (the "Fifteen" bestie whose wedding had Swift as a bridesmaid last month). Who's lurking on the back of the shirt? And who's a blank space? The most high-profile absence was Karlie Kloss, currently seen in a new Cole Haan ad campaign with well-that-escalated-quickly pal Christy Turlington. (In Elle a few weeks ago, K.K. gushed, "I am surrounded by extraordinary women – from my mom and sisters to role models like Christy Turlington, Melinda Gates, and Sheryl Sandberg, and many more.") Will Reputation offer a state-of-the-squad update?

The exes. Just because Swift seems to be in a functional relationship, is that any reason she should keep a dignified silence about her Long List of Ex-Lovers? Dignified silence is not this lady's style. Between Tom Hiddleston and Calvin Harris, she has some real content opportunities. In the new video, Zombie Tay digs a grave marked "Nils Sjoberg," her ghostwriting pen name; there's also an empty engagement-ring box. Perhaps she's mocking Harris for both his career and love life, given that Nils Sjoberg is an anagram for "Jobless Ring"? Or maybe she's accusing him of swiping her work, since it's also an anagram for "Robs Jingles"? Or maybe – just maybe – anagrams are meaningless and dumb coincidences?

The tour. One thing Swift has made clear over the years – she's not into looking back. In the spirit of Madonna or Bowie, when she tours, she focuses on the new songs, not the hits of yesteryear. It was a shocker when she left "All Too Well" off most stops of the 1989 tour, just as she left "Enchanted" and "Long Live" off the Red tour. But given the choice between reprising the oldies or showing off her new songs, she'll go new every time. And that goes for her albums as well – she's never been an artist who repeats herself. Don't expect her to start now. "Honey, I rise up from the dead, I do it all the time"? Bring on the New Tay-stament.

[lubdubsworld]

losing to You (taekook mpreg)

Chapter 4

"Is it Jimin?" Jung Kook said flatly, staring at his father as he poured him a glass of scotch. His father made a noise of impatience.

"Does it matter?" He said with a raised eyebrow and Jung Kook felt his heckles rise.

"Of course it fucking matters... Jimin is my brother, I can't just-"

"Can't just what? Taehyung is not in love with Jimin. Jimin is engaged to marry someone else. You're marrying a beautiful , young man who will no doubt be good for you. What the hell is the problem here?" He growled.

"The problem is that it's ..." Jung Kook stopped, unable to put into words how disturbing it was to think of Taehyung and jimin together  like  that.

" He's not the father."  The older man said suddenly and gave him a look.

"What?"

"You heard me. He's not the father.  I said that in front of Eunha because i wanted her out of your life. And I'm glad it fucking worked."

Jung Kook couldn't breathe.

"You're so fucking unbelievable!" He whispered, betrayal coursing through him in waves.

"You're just like your brother! i warned Namjoon about that boy and he wouldn't listen to sense. Now look at you... I've told you about Eunha, time and again. She's a damned good actress and she's playing you like a fucking fiddle. Her father is my business rival and there's no way she has good intentions for you!"

"You are such an egoist! Why the fuck do you think that  everything  revolves around you and your fucking company!"

"Stop swearing so much you little brat or I'm going to lock the Bugatti up in my garage."

"What the hell?" Jungkook felt himself swell in disbelief. What did his car have to do with anything??!

"That's right! i'll lock it up and you can take the fucking subway to work! Maybe that will bring down your sense of entitlement a notch! Jesus fucking Christ, why can't you just listen to me for one fucking second??"

"Just so you know... I'm going to marry Eunha. Someday! Even Taehyung knows it and I know he'll be a reasonable human being unlike you and your paranoia!" Jung Kook shouted.

His father smiled.

"You're welcome to try. Taehyung isn't an idiot either. He doesn't give a rat's ass about you or your love life. If i tell him he has to lie about the baby's parentage to Eunha, he's going to do it. And I will. I'll tell him that if he tells her the truth, I'll kick him out of the house. That he'll have no way to support his kid brothers or the baby. What do you think he'll do then? " He smirked.

Jung Kook stared at him in disbelief.

"Why do you hate me this much?" He whispered.

"You mean, why do i  care  about you this much? Because you're my son! My flesh and blood and I love you more than anything else in the world. I'm not going to let you make the worst mistake of your life. The only reason I picked you to marry Taehyung is because i know he's good for you. He'll give you the happiness you need and I'm going to trust you to take that chance and actually love him . "

Jung kook swallowed.

"I won't love him. Never. I will never fall in love with him.  " He said viciously.

His father laughed.

"You talk like you have a choice in the matter. But here's the thing... Whether Jimin is the father or not, the child is going to be Taehyung's. And Taehyung is going to be yours. "

And that was exactly what scared Jung Kook the most.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you know who's the father of your baby?" Jung Kook said softly, watching Taehyung as he slowly pulled on the satin ribbon that held together the beautiful velvet box. Taehyung hesitated, just for a second before slowly raising his head. He looked breathtaking and once again, Jung kook felt his breath catch. Taehyung was beautiful at first glance but the more time you spent with him, the more his beauty sunk into you.

And the way he looked at Jung Kook sometimes.

Holy hell.

It made him feel like every nerve in his body had been scrapped raw, that glance. The warmth, the vulnerability. The way his eyes just begged for understanding and compassion. The way they just called out to every good thing in Jung kook. The way it made him want to gather the other into his arms and protect him with his life. And that right there was a red flag. Jung kook wasn't the sort to protect men like Taehyung. He was more likely to destroy him with his careless words and actions.

"I... I know him by sight. But I don't know who he is." Taehyung said eventually, still staring at Jung Kook  with a very soft look in his face. Jung Kook hesitated, the words hovering on the tip of his tongue.

Is it my brother? Did you really sleep with Jimin...

But in the end he decided against it, his gaze shifting to the sloping curve of Taehyung's belly , the soft white hand resting on the fabric of his sweater. He didn't want to hurt Taehyung. Not for Eunha. not for anyone else.

"I understand. I won't ask you about it again..." Jung Kook said, honestly and the relief in Taehyung's face made him feel a little nervous. But he tamped down on the feeling of unease. Instead, he grabbed the small velvet box out of Taehyung's hand.

"I bought this for you. Try it on and if it doesn't fit we can get it alterred." He said with a smile, holding it out. Taehyung flushed a little ,  carefully holding the base with gentle fingers before  popping the lid open. Jung kook watched him closely, warmth flooding his chest when he saw the way his eyes went wide with surprise, lips parting in pleasure as he stared down at the custom made ring.

It was made of ornate white gold, the entire ring embossed to perfection and inscribed with beautiful , flowing cursive.

"mo shíorghrá ...  What does that mean ? " Taehyung said softly.

Jung Kook hesitated.

"It means ... my eternal love. It's nothing personal.."he said hastily, " my parents have the same saying in their ring and I just... I've always wanted that on my wedding ring as well." He said softly.

Taehyung smiled softly and slowly shut the box, grabbing the satin ribbon from the bed and tying it back on. Jung Kook stared, confused as he knotted the bow to perfection before handing it back to him.

"This isn't mine. It belongs to Eunha. " He said gently.

And Jung kook felt such a sense of guilt that he nearly choked.

"Taehyung, that's not..."

"Besides, there's something i want to show you.." Taehyung said briskly , gripping the edge of the chair as he tried to rise up. Jung kook reached out instinctively, lightly holding him and helping him up . Taehyung flushed again and Jung Kook caught the scent of wild strawberries and camellias , the sweet scent cloying his senses pleasantly.

Jung kook watched as Taehyung moved to the closet and slowly opened it. He looked around for a second before spotting whatever it was on the top shelf. Jung Kook watched as he went on tip toes, both arms extended up as he tried to reach for the bag on the top of the shelf. The gesture made his sweater ride up, revealing the curve of his stomach and Jung Kook stared helplessly at the expanse of tanned skin, smooth even to just look at and he felt his mouth go dry.

"Can I help... you shouldn't be straining-"

"Got it. " Taehyung grunted a little, lightly pulling the bag down and then moving to the bed. He slowly opened the bag and pulled out a small knapsack, tied together with string. Jung Kook watched as he tugged on the string and let the bag fall open, before slipping a hand in and pulling out a worn out  jewel case. He pulled on the zipper, and then frowned when the metal got stuck a bit . Jung kook watched, a smile tugging on his lips as the tip of his tongue poked out in a pout as he struggled with the zip.

"Here, let me..." He said gently. reaching out and taking the box away. He gave it a little strong tug and the box fell open. Jung Kook stared at the contents. A pair of chipped pearl earrings and then a pair of rings that looked a little worn out but beautiful. Simple gold bands with a single white diamond in the center.

"My parents' wedding rings. I would like to use these." Taehyung said softly and Jung Kook felt his heart began to pound.

"Taehyung , I don't think..."

"I won't be getting married again.." Taehyung's voice shook as he stared at Jung kook. "I mean... after you. After we divorce. I won't be meeting anyone else and-"

"why would you even say that? You're fucking beautiful for heaven's sake." Jung Kook said impatiently.

A rather helpless smile made it's way into Taehyung's face, bitter and ironic.

"I know. I know , i am. And trust me, sometimes I deeply wish I wasn't. " He took a deep breath and then smiled again. " But i want to wear these rings for my wedding. "

Jung Kook sighed and slowly pulled them out of the box before slipping them into his pocket. " Okay. I'll put them in the ring box then."

"Thank you, Jung Kook." Taehyung smiled, softly and Jung Kook swallowed.

~~~~~~~~~~

"You look beautiful, Mrs. Jeon." Taehyung said with a  smile, watching  as she carefully arranged the string of pearls around her neck. Mrs. Jeon smiled before carefully opening another jewel box and showing him the pretty white-gold bracelet . It had two little charms, a sun and a moon . The sun had TH inscribed on it and the moon had JK inscribed on it. Taehyung felt his throat go dry. It was so very beautiful.

"i bought this for Jung kook. Do you like it?" She smiled wide. Taehyung hesitated, lightly scratching the back of his neck .

"I'm ot sure if he's the sort to wear bracelets around the place. " He said, feeling a little apologetic. Mrs. Jeon laughed.

"Oh, I'm sure he won't. If I were to give it to him. But I want you to give it to him." She smiled.

"Me?" Taehyung stared wide-eyed at the older woman.

"Jung kook really is the moon, Taehyung. He's helpless on his own. All his life, he's been very lonely and that's the reason his light doesn't shine out the way it's supposed to. But you... You're the sun that he needs. With you in his life, he can be as happy as he's meant to be. All these years, I've watched him drink and dance and waste away his youth in meaningless pursuits but... I want that to change. i want him to find something substantial and steady. Something worth dying for. Something worth  living  for. I think.. I believe , that you and your baby could be that salvation that he needs. Will you promise me that you won't leave my son?" She whispered.

Taehyung felt like an iron fist had closed over his heart. He thought of jung kook with his handsome smile and the way his words and actions made him want to melt into a puddle of goo. The way his scent still clung to him, like his own personal brand of drug, intoxicating him and making him feel helplessly drawn to the other.

"If one of us leaves, it won't be me..." He whispered and he knew it was true.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, Jung kook was in a foul mood. The venue for the wedding had been confirmed but the wedding planners had ordered the wrong measurement for the drapes. He spent the entire morning having words with the company , furious. They had their dress fittings in the afternoon and to make matters worse, Taehyung went crazy during the morning buffet, repeatedly ignoring Jung Kook's pleas to not eat too many blue berry muffins. Byt the time it was two and the limousine was waiting to pick them up, he had spent two whole hours just puking his guts out while Jung Kook rubbed his back in soothing circles.

"I fucking told you to lay off on the sugar... Why do you not listen to a word , I say?" He growled out, while tears slipped out of Taehyung's eyes as he washed his face and wiped it with a towel.

"I'm sorry... " He sobbed and Jung kook merely sighed in defeat.

"Why are you even crying now? And who are you apologizing to anyway? You should be apologizing to your poor body. The kind of crap you put it through! Do you even know you're fucking pregnant... Why would you eat seven blueberry muffins in one sittings?!  Seven!"

Taehyung bit his lips, eyes swollen from the tears and face washed out pale . His fingers trembled because Jung Kook looked very scary when he was angry. And he was supposed to ask him to let him visit Yoongi and Hoseok and the twins today. How could he now, with Jung Kook in such a foul mood?

"There's a reason, pregnant people are asked to watch their diet... Too much sugar is obviously going to make you dizzy and..."

Jung Kook showed no signs of stopping his angry rant in the near future and Taehyung sank deeper into the limousine, wanting to just disappear into the leather seats. They had barely driven to the gates when he suddenly remembered his water bottle. His cravings made him partial to mint flavored vitamin water and anything else made him nauseous.

"I forgot my water bottle..." He whispered nervously and Jung Kook stopped mid-rant, turning around to glare at him.

"Your what?"

"My water bottle." Taehyung swallowed at the annoyance in Jung Kook's glance , fingers knotting together below his belly as he tried not to burst into tears again.

Jung Kook sighed.

"Are you three years old, Taehyung? Do i have to be your husband as well as your babysitter?" He groaned. " Driver, stop the damn car."

It was another ten minutes before Jung Kook returned, the pale blue water bottle in his hand , sweating profusely from running up and down the driveway. He climbed into the seat and Taehyung felt guilt cloud his senses as he took the bottle from him. Jung Kook was panting lightly, his white shirt almost see-thorugh from sweat , some of it clinging to his forehead and soaking strands of his ebony hair. Taehyung reached out without thinking, hands slipping into the sleeve of his own sweater , using the fabric to wipe at Jung kook's brow gently.

Jung Kook went completely still, while Taehyung leaned closer, palm resting right on Jung kook's thighs as he wiped away the sweat. Jung Kook turned slowly and Taehyung went cross eyed , suddenly nose to nose with the other man.

"Are you trying to prove that you're not a child?" Jung Kook whispered and Taehyung flushed scrambling back in panic. Jung Kook chuckled and shook his head.

But the laughter was shortlived.

At the dressing room of the wedding boutique, Taehyung realized that all the binge eating had another more horrifying side effect.

"Wait, you can't fit into your suit?"

The designer looked affronted, before grabbing the measuring tape and tossing his arms around Taehyung while Jung Kook frowned fircely .

He measured Taejhyung's belly and clucked his fingers. Taehyung felt his mouth close up in humiliation and hurt. He could feel the sobs choking his lungs, begging to just burst out along with his tears. He wished he was anywhere but there.

But Jung Kook had seen his distress and Taehyung watched as the taller male slowly stood up, flexing his shoulders, eyes fixed in a death stare as he slowly walked over to the oblivious designer.

"You've grown two inches since the last month! Are you serious? is that even normal!! Are you not aware, Taehyung ssi that this dress is-" The man squawked as Jung Kook grabbed him by the collar, shoving him so hard he went and hit the opposite wall.

"Did you just call my baby, fat?" Jung Kook whispered and the man squeaked. Taehyung stared, wide-eyed and stunned at the drama.

"Ani... No... i mean.. Jung Kook ssi... the suit..."

"I don't fucking care about the fucking suit... That's my husband you just called fat. You do realize, i can fucking burn this entire store and your sorry existence to the ground with just one phonecall, right?"

"Jung Kook.. stop.." Taehyung begged, grabbing his arm urgently and Jung Kook slowly let go of the man.

"Also... What kind of a fucking idiotic designer are you? You want my pregnant husband in a fucking suit?? What if he fucking suffocates in this shit?" He kicked out the Gucci box and Taehyung flinched.

"Jung Kook..."

"Tae, come here..." Jung Kook grabbed his wrist, lightly pulling him to the inner aisle. He found the manager and said very swiftly.

"I need to find comfortable , stretchable pants for my husband. "

"Uh.. Sure... Color and make, sir?"

An hour later, Taehyung stood in front of the mirror, stunned speechless.

His outfit was absolutely gorgeous.

It was full white, the pants a mix of slacks and jeans, snow while and creamy with a glinting platinum chain around his waist, that hung low across his thighs on one side. The little accesory looked super cute. He wore a super soft white shirt , silky and heavenly on his skin, topped by a creamy off white sweater in the fluffiest Cashmere fabric. The sweater had stonework detailing around his neckline and Taehyung thought that along with his blonde hair, he looked very, very angelic.

"You're so beautiful, it's unreal." Jung Kook said suddenly, appearing out of the dressing room.

Taehyung was glad he was standing close to the mirror. He grabbe dthe frame in shock because,

Holy cow.

Jung Kook looked like every one of Taehyung's wet dreams combined, hair slicked back, body fitted into a perfectly tailored black tuc, with a light grey satin shirt and a black tie. He was still a little sweaty and Taehyung stared at the slight sheen to his ivory neck, stretched out and looking way too inviting. He fixed his sleeves and lightly adjusted the waist band of his slacks and Taehyung couldn't help stare at his crotch, the tight fitting fabric leaving nothing to the imagination and Taehyung had the unholy urge to just drop to his knees right there and-

"You're drooling." Jung Kook frowned.

"I... whu.. uhuw.. What?" Taehyung shook his head and swiped at his mouth. Sure enough a bit of saliva had leaked out.

"Are you okay?" Jung Kook frowned.

"Uh.. yeah. Sure.. I'm fine." Taehyung muttered.

Oh, God, he was screwed.

AUTHOR’S NOTE : BITCH HAVE YOU SEEN JUNGKOOK IN A SUIT...TAE I RELATE TO YOU 100%.... COMMENTS ARE LOVE... WHY ISN’T ANYONE COMMENTING THOUGH? DO YOU NOT LIKE THIS STORY? *SAD FACE*

[guerrillamamamedicine]

(via Happiness Is Not Enough | Mark Manson)

Emotions are the result of your mind comparing your external environment to your expectations.

The same way you feel hot and cold when you walk outside (you step into the air, your skin moderates the temperature relative to your body temperature and then sends a signal to your brain saying, “it’s hot” or “it’s cold”), your emotions do the same for complex psychological phenomena.

So you step outside, your body sends your brain the signal “it’s cold” and you run inside and get a coat. Similarly, if you come home from work and catch your husband blowing the mailman, your body sends the emotional signal to your brain which says, “What the actual fuck?” and then you divorce his ass and enjoy a massive settlement and lots of ice cream on the couch.

Emotions are designed to create strong incentives for us to take action and do somethingto get rid of conflict between our expectations and our environment, either by changing our environment or changing our expectations.

So for instance, say you’re talking with a co-worker and you find out that bitch Betty took credit for your awesome idea and got a raise as a result.

Chances are you’re going to feel some strong emotions like anger, jealousy, and betrayal, among others. Chances are you’re going to take some sort of action to let that bitch Betty (and/or your boss) know what you think. Shit’s going to get real in cubicle-ville because this injustice cannot stand, man.

That anger and pain you feel is also likely to make you take a long, hard look at your workplace and your career. They’ll also probably make you a lot more vigilant in the future by virtue of the fact that you don’t want to feel like this again, so you’ll do more to make sure your work gets noticed in the future. It might have been a painful experience, but your emotions provoked you to deal with the situation and will help again you in the future.

And that’s what makes our emotions so powerful and so useful. It doesn’t matter if they make us feel good or bad as long as they motivate us to take appropriate action and deal with whatever comes our way.

But the thing is, our emotions won’t help us deal with the shitty things life throws at us if they don’t match up well with the situation we find ourselves in. If I’m bored when I should be scared, or overjoyed when I should be raging pissed, then how the hell are my emotions going to help me do anything to help me cope with life, let alone survive?

This is the problem with the feel-good-all-the-time-no-matter-what strategy of life. And this is why Jon ended up being such a fucking mess. Instead of engaging the right emotions in the right situations, he was trying to wallpaper over everything with a bunch of bright, sunshiney bullshit.

HOW DIVERSIFYING YOUR EMOTIONS MAKES YOU A MORE RESILIENT PERSON

There’s a concept in psychology called “emotional diversity.” Emotional diversity is just what it sounds like: experiencing a variety of emotions. And it turns out that people who experience a wide variety of both positive and negative emotions are a lot better off, both mentally and physically, than people who only experience a few emotions regularly, good or bad.

Just like a more diverse stock portfolio is more resilient to large swings in stock values, the more diverse your emotional life is, the more resilient you are to the large swings in experience that life gives you. If you’re comfortable with anger, you’ll be able to call it up at the appropriate moments and use it. If you’re comfortable with joy or guilt or grief, you’ll be able to use those when you need to as well.

A diverse emotional life isn’t just made up of a few “good” and “bad” emotions. You can also have lots of emotional subcategories, like amusement, joy, contentment, gratefulness, pride, love, hope, and anger, sadness, guilt, contempt, anxiety, disgust, embarrassment, and on and on.

Researchers think that people who experience a wider range of these types of specific subcategories of emotions are more resilient in the face of adversity because they’re better at identifying what triggers those emotions. And thus, if you know exactly what’s making you feel the way you feel, it’s a whole lot easier to react appropriately to it.

People who practice a wide range of emotions are self-aware enough to know what triggers these emotions and then act accordingly. This makes them feel more in control of their lives, a huge factor in determining happiness and general well-being.

More variety in emotional experience also gives you a greater appreciation for just how transient emotions are. When you only allow yourself to feel one or two emotions all the time, you start to feel as though they are permanent (or should be permanent). The world always sucks. Life is always great. You always feel guilty because you’re a horrible person. You’re always proud because you’re narcissistic and jerk off to your own high school yearbook pictures.

When you’re stuck in these one-emotion-defines-the-world mentalities, you forget that emotions are transient superficial things that don’t necessarily mean anything.

Emotional diversity shows us that emotions come and go. If you feel angry now, that’s fine, you won’t in a few hours. If you’re happy now, that’s great, enjoy it, because the next struggle is around the corner. If you feel guilty or sad, then that’s okay too, things will look up some time in the near future.

The question is then how do we begin to diversify our emotional lives?

BECOMING AN EMOTIONAL NINJA

The first step in achieving greater emotional diversity: simple self-awareness. Noticing and accepting what you feel when you feel it.

This sounds so simple as to be stupid. But what you’ll likely find is that if you’ve denied a certain emotion in yourself for long enough, you’ll actually stop realizing when you’re feeling it.

I’ve talked before about identifying and unfusing from your emotions as one way to become more self-aware and to understand your emotions better. This is the next step. Learning to identify the emotion and then separating your decision-making from the emotion.

It’s the difference between wanting to punch that fucker in the face, and actually doing it. Doing it is unacceptable. Feeling like you want to is a natural human reaction (sometimes).

Once you unfuse your emotions from your decisions, it often causes you to experience greater depth and complexity in your emotions. For example, you might feel depressed at some point, but if you unfuse from your depression and examine it more closely, you might find that you’re also angry about the thing that’s making you depressed. Now we’re getting somewhere.

Instead of just being a depressed schlub on the couch and resigning to the fact that life is meaningless—and oh, what’s the point anyway?—that anger can motivate you to do something about your situation, to not withdraw from life but rather to engage with it.

This is what being an emotionally well-adjusted person is all about. Not being happy or having some bubbling feeling of contentment all the time. It’s about recognizing the layers of feeling going on inside you and utilizing them in ways that are helpful. Anger can lead to action. Sadness can lead to acceptance. Guilt can lead to change. Excitement can lead to motivation.

Life is not about controlling our emotions. That’s impossible. Emotions come and they go whether we want them to or not.

[anonymoususername123]

Dating in Toronto

In this world of hookup culture we are forgetting who we are.

It’s December of 2019. The year is coming to an end, in fact the decade is coming to an end. In my generation of millennials I think we’re called, ( I’m 32 ), we either have been involved or know someone that’s been involved in the hookup culture that is currently taking over the world.

Gone are the days of loyalty, trust, commitment, and love.

(Edit: Actually that’s not true. It’s been pointed out to me by some friends, and I already knew this too, that there ARE some people in committed, loving, trusting, healthy relationships. I mean romantic ones. Because I have all of the above mentioned things going on with friend relationships. I have just yet to find it in a ROMANTIC way.... I’d like to say I have SOME hope though... anyways read on to get why I’m so jaded)

Although I know the older and last generations have had their share of breakups and divorces, cheating and scandals, side chicks, alimony, and child support.

These tragedies aren’t new.

What is new and still continuing and evolving is the ever present hookup culture.

You can download an app or two, or three, four, fuck there’s so many who can even keep count.

The point is you can download an app, set your preference, and boom by 11pm that night you’re fucking someone you just met, on an app, literally hours before.

You don’t know them and they don’t know you. You go for coffee, but it’s not really coffee. It’s them picking you up, grabbing a hot chocolate at 10:30pm at night, and going for a drive in their car ( this has happened to me many a times). You then realize ah shit I fucked up, I’m stuck in a strangers car, who is now chain smoking for whatever reason, and then you go park in a deserted parking lot, to sit and get to know each other and make small talk.

Now I know most of you are thinking no way, this can’t be real, who stoops to that level of getting a Tim Hortons hot chocolate between 10:30-11pm at night with a total stranger to then go sit in their car and hope to God they don’t murder you.

But this is real life.

I’ve used Tinder, POF, OkCupid. I downloaded Bumble & Hinge and deleted immediately. I also think I tried something called “Happn” which I also deleted.

I’ve made an account on Seeking Arrangements just for the hell of it ( fuck I really hope I deleted my account oh man). I’ve joined Match for its like one month gig. I’ve joined Christian Mingle YEARS ago only to talk to some horny Italian guy that clearly was on the right site ( insert my VERY DISTINCT sarcasm please.)

It’s interesting because

You lose yourself in it all.

Somewhere someway somehow you allow people into your life you never in a million years think you would. You say and do shit you never thought you would.

You tolerate the weirdest and strangest shit.

Not once but at least.... four times I’ve been picked up by a guy in his car just to drive around, go park, talk, and then they wanna have sex.

I was once, no twice, master manipulated into having sex with a guy I suspect was married, in his van. It was scary. Horrifying. Terrifying. I went against my gut instinct. I went against my vibes. I’ve put myself in quite dangerous and scary situations.

I’ve let men into my life, into my body, I absolutely should never in my life have done so.

I can’t blame my daddy issues, my daddy issues are maybe the root of my issues with men. But my behaviour is something I have to own up to. My patterns, my habits, my inability to catch the players and walk away, block, delete, sooner than meeting up with them, that is on me.

So here I am now just reflecting back on this decade. In this decade I started it off dating someone that was toxic, unwell, borderline abusive. It never starts that way, and then next thing you know I ended up in a psych ward cause I tried to kill myself. The psychiatrist then tells you that one day the memories will fade away until they’re all gone. And it’s true. And he was one of the best psychiatrists I’ve ever met. And I cried when I heard he’s taking a sabbatical to work on something else. All the while knowing this is life. I’m sick. I’ll get better. And this was years ago.

And I slowly get better after that.

But I start using the dating apps. I’m single and vulnerable. I’m a social work student. I’m doing my placement, I’m going through school. I start working at a movie theatre.

My attachment issues, my mental health issues, my DADDY ISSUES, I don’t wanna deal with them. I know I have to. Maybe they’ll go away.

I had previously gotten clean, off drugs and alcohol. So I keep going to meetings.. NA meetings.. at one point I get a sponsor I start step work, I give up, not because I didn’t want to work on my recovery... I just stop using that sponsor. No hard feelings.

Fast forward to now. December 2019. For the last seven years of being single I’ve fucked countless guys... I’ve gone on some weird ass dates and some OK dates. I’ve tried to be non judgemental... I’ve been judgemental... people are... fucked lol.

I fucked a Ryan Gosling lookalike.

A guy I went to high school with.

Many other guys who shall remain nameless. Security guards, guys from NA, guys I met online. Boys boys boys boys.

I’ve gotten attached. I’ve cried, obsessed, blocked and unblocked so many times I have driven myself absolutely insane.

I was taken advantage of. In a van. I blocked that guy by the way... fairly sure he’s a predator... like I said.. some scary scary shit!

I’ve been reckless, not safe enough.

I’ve invited guys over. I’ve had one night stands. I’ve probably broken hearts, I’ve had my heart broken.

Then I meet a couple guys over the last year. One stood out. He was SO good looking in my eyes.. but SO unwell. I dropped every standard known to mankind and hooked up with him. He was F U C K E D up. We eventually end things.. stop talking or seeing each other. In Feb 2019 we randomly see each other ( after having first met each other in March/April 2018) on the subway, he comes over, we fuck. I never hear from him again. I see him on the subway platform a couple weeks later holding hands with a girl. We spot each other. I’m almost near the end of the platform. So he moves to the left, towards more of the centre. The train comes and we all get on. I’m fuming. Raging. I start voicenoting my friends, yelling loudly so he can hear me.. he’s further down the train than where I am. “THIS FUCKING GUY, I JUST FUCKED HIM AND HERE HE IS WITH A NEW GIRL, HOLDING HER HAND, THIS IS MADNESS”.

People are staring. I look crazy. We get off at the same stop. During the train ride They FOR SURE could hear me but they had their heads down, they’re talking, holding hands, ignoring the crazy bitch yelling into her phone about some guy she fucked that has the AUDCITY to board her train with a new girlfriend. Once we all get off, they’re up ahead of me and I eventually lose them. I call my mom and I’m SCREAMING into the phone. But.. who even cares? All that anger, rage & resentment, for what? We weren’t close. Or dating. I was nothing to him. When all I want is to be something to someone.

Basically... I’m sick of this shit. Sick of being nothing to no one. Just a sexual object, most likely a side chick, no trust or respect.

Some have taken me on proper dates.

Dinner. Movies.

Dinner.

Coffee shop.

But the mass majority have been flimsy, stupid, regrettable, one night stands that require more work on my part- I have laundry I end up having to do the next day... mixed with trying to wash all the shame and guilt off of me from my poor choices from the previous night.

It’s like we’ve become transactions with each other.

Some guy I just fucked last night was all “Oh no, I REALLY wanna get to know you, you’re one of the hottest girls on POF right now”

Buddy you don’t wanna get to know me you want to get to know my vagina. PUSSY. You wanna say HIIIIIIIII and REALLY get to know not me as a person but me as my VAGINA.

And it’s like SERIOUSLY?

Why can’t we be straightforward. Why do we lie.. to ourselves.. and each other.. it’s like I’ve convinced myself I’m either not worthy of love and respect or I’ve just given up on it as if it doesn’t exist anymore.

Siblings that are older.. all divorced or about to be. A couple still together. But one pair fights and fights and fights.

Is that love? Is that respect? Is that what a relationship is now? Still?

We can order food, products, and people to our door within a matter of minutes but at what cost?

You’re not paying me for sex but should you be?

I’ve often thought maybe I should dabble in being an escort. I’d get paid. And have sex. Because what’s the difference in what I’m doing besides absolutely nothing except that I’m not getting paid and sex workers are.

I’m having meaningless, pointless, regrettable sex that is oftentimes worth the orgasm but not the emotional turmoil I put myself through after.

I’ve definitely used sex the way I once upon a time used drugs and alcohol. I HATE admiting I’m a sex addict. I don’t crave it.. I don’t NEED it. But I do it anyways. When I’m sad, depressed, stressed. I want sex. I don’t want the guy or the drama or stress or relationship. I wanna exert my feminine power and fuck you til we both orgasm.

But... it doesn’t always work out that way. I may use guys for sex.. but they use me right back lol.

I have to delete the memories from my head and keep moving forward.

I met a guy this summer. At a Tim Hortons. There were vibes lol.

I could tell he was a player, manipulative. We exchanged numbers. To this day ( six months later ) we still chat. He left the city for months and is now back.

He’s put me down, about my faith & beliefs, my career, and just me as a person. He’s pissed me off and I’ve told him off. I’ve blocked and unblocked him so many times over the last few months, even without seeing him in person, only to unblock and message him again. He’s rude, narcissistic, a fucking prick. He doesn’t think, honestly, of literally anyone else except him and his daughter. He makes excuses and has stories for days. He’s been so rude to me so many times and yet I STILLLL wanna talk to him. I STILL want him to like me, want me, date me. Treat me nicer than he’s treated me.. actually talk to me with respect. Not lead me on leave me on read for hours at end to just come back around when he feels like it.

But, here I am, entertaining this fucking douche bag because I’m bored, lonely, depressed.

My dad just died. A month and a half ago. I know, you’re probably thinking Jesus, this girls life is DRAMA! It is. I’ll end this blog post here, for now, and finish all the rest of my stories later.

With my Dad passing its opened me up again. Made me a bit a softer. More self aware. More in tune with my emotions and what the fuck I want, what the fuck I’m doing. Everyone’s always told me how to act and what to do my whole Life, or at least that’s how it’s felt ( even though it’s not exactly true).

These experiences shape you, mould you, change you from the inside out.

I’ll get rid of all these fuckboys.

Everyone says oh just wait, the right person will come along. But will they? Will they really? Where’s the stats and proof and logistics of it? I mean sure I live in a big huge city so I will definitely meet SOMEONE one day but how? Where? Why are we told to just have blind faith this will happen.

Whoever made up that saying and these expressions and thought pattern is a fucking moron. We date and fuck who we either meet in person or meet online. There’s really no in between. But meeting people in person.. who, what, where, when, and how?

I’ll get back to you guys on all the rest of my wild life and stories and thoughts.

Blessings to all for now,

Anonymous Dater in Toronto