#shes in touch with the fam rarely but she is

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Because the week wasn't sad enough, there had to be a new Lenny interview that broke my heart a lot more. 🥺😭🥲

[beenbaanbuun]

has yeosang nipped their lamb-dove? he's bitten hongjoong officially. has he bitten anyone else? i feel like if he did the reader would be like ur just a puppyyyyyyyyyy. and defend sangie to the matz like he just accidentally bit them its fine hes teething. all the excuses. i bet there would suddenly be chew toys for him too if so (and theyd be so clearly from the reader - all pastel and cute vs the monochrome of the matz!fam)

the biting was bad in the beginning especially. if either hongjoong or seonghwa got too close to him, he’d lunge for them and sink his teeth into whatever skin they had available. it was rare that he’d make them bleed since the bites were more of a warning than anything. it was only ever when they deigned to touch him that he bit hard enough to hurt. of course, over time as he learned the rules of the house a little better, the biting got less and less. hongjoong no longer had to pin him by the scruff of the neck for doing something so utterly disrespectful as smashing a priceless vase for the soul purpose of rebelling, and seonghwa’s regular hair ruffles just became something yeosang could live with.

but darling was somehow special. the fact that he knew he would be dead if he dared to hurt her had no real part in it, because he never felt the urge to hurt her. sure, when she pounced on his and used him as her personal teddy bear it pissed him off, but he never bit her. and all those hours that she spent sat next to him, fiddling with his fluffy tail really, really annoyed him, but again, biting was never an option. instead he’d pin her, flipping her over onto her back and holding her wrists above her head, all while growling threats that he did not intend to keep.

“fucking touch me again and i’ll rip your throat out, brat. damn what your precious ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’ do to me in return.”

but then she just… giggles in his face and it stumps him. she’s not supposed to find his threats funny. she’s supposed to cower in fear, crying and begging for mercy. the fact that she’s looking at him like he’s the most precious creature in the world has him entirely stumped.

maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to hurt her, though. she doesn’t see him as a threat. she doesn’t flinch back from him when he turns his head too quick, and she doesn’t cower away from him like he’s some sort of dangerous animal. maybe he doesn’t want to be violent with her because she doesn’t treat him like he should be. over time, that treatment stops from seonghwa too, the flinching comes to a halt and so yeosang stops biting him too. with hongjoong, it never really ends, but as the both of them get closer, it just becomes part of their dynamic, something the two of them treat as a game.

the chew toys are definitely something that darling would do as a practical joke, same as hongjoong buying him dog treats and seonghwa threatening him with the spray bottle in his greenhouse if he ever steps out of line. yeosang doesn’t find it funny when she presents him with bone shaped object, just raising a brow at her as she struggles to stifle her giggles with her hand. he takes them anyway, just because he knows it’ll make her happy (damn his soft heart) and hides them away under his bed. no one has to know that sometimes he pulls one of the ugly pastel things out and chews on it like one might chew on the end of a pen. it’s a completely normal behaviour, he tells himself as he stashes the toys under his bed once he’s finished with them. the fact that he doesn’t want anyone to know is not because it’s weird or that he’s ashamed of it… definitely not…

[alipeeps]

Episode 40 (aka Hold me, I am not ready for this!! 😭)

Gods I think I love Xue Li almost as much as Xiao Heng.

And that dude loves her a LOT.

LOOK at how he looks at her. LOOK!!

"Kill Xiao Heng and we'll live happily ever after"... dude, you have completely lost touch of reality. How can you believe for even a fraction of a second that she'd do that, that she'd choose you over him? She just told you a moment ago that she'd rather die with him that be with you.

YES XUE LI!!! Put the next one through his eye please!

Actually no, don't kill him. Let him live and suffer and regret.

"Killing you would dirty my hands." You tell him girl. He's nothing. He's not worth the blood on your hands.

I reckon 75% chance he's gonna throw himself off the battlements anyway. Coward.

Ahahahaaaa he's standing on the edge! Am I right? Am I?

CALLED IT!! 😂😂

Last thing he saw was her walking away. Love that for him.

Ooooh she's gonna cut her own throat on the sword....

Shiiit where's that tumblr image of apollo's dodgeball? I'm getting too good at this.

There goes your last leverage, shithead.

Aaaaand there goes your ability to breathe anything other than blood.

Yeah baby, get your revenge.

Ey up, the wind machine's back.

Hahahaa fucking hell grandpa Xiao making Xiao Heng serve him drinks on the excuse that he was injured saving Xue Li?! I'm pretty sure Xiao Heng was actually *more* injured - he took at least 3 sword slashes in the battle with Lord Cheng!

Okay but now I am really intruiged/worried cos the rebellion is over and there's like 30-odd minutes (and the much giffed scene of Xiao Heng in his armour with the pendant in his teeth) left to go so... wtf is gonna happen now?

Oooh Xiao Heng's going north to protect the border...

Bros 4eva!

Daddy Xue's back? For reals?

"She's got a husband now, how can she go back with us?" 😂

Awww and she's got daddy's approval for this one too! 😁

What do you think she means, Su Guogong, you dumbass? You gotta make that place fit for a wife! 😁

Hahaha Xiao Heng has bluescreened again!

It's kinda disturbing how rare it is in a cdrama for the main couple to get together, both survive and get to happily marry. HOWEVER... there's still 20 minutes and that scene to go!! 😭😭

Also am i the only one that keeps getting very nervous about the combination of wind machine, billowing drapes, and naked flame candles... 😬

Is she gonna admit to pappa Jiang that she's not Jiang Li? I'm pretty sure he already knows...

Yeeeeeah that's a nice lie Xue Li but it's a lie nonetheless. She did suffer and she was in pain. But okay...

I want this to be between you and me - and all the servants that just overheard our conversation.

Shit I thought for a second there he'd stroked out and died on the spot! 😂

This feels like she's saying goodbye to the Jiang family for good. She's married into the Xiao family now and the Jiang family are leaving the capital... and she's not really related to them, she's got no real reason to see them again...

Shijie is just too goddamn good and precious.

Ooft one thing that bugs me about the subs in this is that they don't properly translate titles/honorifics, they translate everything to the person's name. So the significance of her calling him ge is entirely lost to anyone who doesn't understand at least a little bit of Chinese.

(Also they do this with single syllable names which is even more egregious. They translate didi as Zhao, they don't even have the fucking courtesy to make it A-Zhao)

Awww I am sad that the haircombing scene was just her imagination... and I'm also worried that it's some kind of portent... 😭

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO THEY KILLED LU JI!!!! 😭😭😭😭

I don't deserve this. After 40 episodes i do not deserve this how could you do this to me

Okay but Wen Ji I feel you fam I really do but Xiao Heng needs help!!

YOU BASTARDS!!

WHYYYYYYYYY??!! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO THIS TO ME?!! Why could they not just have a happy ending? What plot purpose does this even serve at this point?

Oh thank fuck I genuinely thought it was gonna end with it implying he was about to die on the battlefield.

I am dead. RIP me.

This was a fucking RIDE and I LOVED IT.

(Apart from them killing Lu Ji and Wen Ji for no reason 😭😭😭)

[rebouks]

I wanna ask about the super sexy accountant 👀 What do we know about Darien’s bio family? Does he have siblings or keep in touch with any of his fam? Does he miss his criminal family at all? Or is he happy to be free of them? Is there any one in the criminal family (besides Wyatt) that he liked being around more than others? What does he think of Brynn, nu Wyatt, and Bryatt? What are his hobbies or free time activities? Will we see more of him in the future? Inquiring minds - it’s me, I’m the inquiring mind- want to know!

Who doesn't want to know about the hot accountant?! Look at him, full of secrets.. 👀

Dairen's the only child of two not wealthy parents, but his stepfather was pretty wealthy (none of Darien's own wealth comes from him tho, 'cause ew..) his mom remarried when he was pretty young, so he has a stepbrother and a half-sister but he doesn't speak to any of them and his dad died a while ago.. I bet you can guess whose idea going to boarding school was? 🙈

I don't really think he misses Artie n' co. but I think he still feels a bit lost, he hasn't really moved on or done anything exciting since it all went to shit. He misses feeling like he belonged more than anything, a little bit like Bruno, whom he got on pretty well with btw.. especially when Wyatt wasn't around 😅 he kinda liked Kaden too, but mostly because he was resourceful and sensible, tho he was still rather wary of him! He was never keen on Kian, and I still love his backchat to him in this scene because it pretty much defines their relationship, even though we rarely saw em together lmaooo..

Hmmmm.. what does he think of "new" Wyatt? He's not really sure tbh, he only got to spend like a day with him! He could tell smth had shifted but he didn't really get a chance to pick it apart, I'm sure he wonders what changed, and how! I reckon he quite likes Brynn, though he definitely thinks she's a bit daft, then again, he thinks a lot of people are 😆 overall, he's a bit like ????? abt the whole thing lmao

What does he do for fun!? WORK! Duh.. but I guess he kinda likes cooking sometimes, and if he ever feels burnt out (which is super rare) he likes to binge watch TV series in the dark and eat a fuck tonne of sweeties 😌 I can see his faves being shit like The Wire, or mindfucky films like Tenet! Honestly, he doesn't have many hobbies or many friends, he's spent his entire life with his nose in his laptop, which he likes.. but I still think he's a bit lonely/directionless these days...

We'll definitely see more of him in the future though, so who knows what'll change?!

[thepaintedlady00]

Nightshade

Chapter 13 | Chapter 15

Chapter 14: Umami

An update!!! 🥳🥳🥳 Sorry for the long wait y'all. I am back! So hopefully the updates will get back to normal now. Thank you all for being patient 🥰 I hope you enjoy the chapter!

TW: More Jennifer horribleness, mentions of cancer and minor suicidal thoughts/implications, spicy dreams and very inappropriate thoughts, some wholesome Harrow fam content, Jake boxing 🥵, Lena being a bit of a tease, as always language, mentions of alcohol and drugs, the idiots are idioting, phone sex? Lena vs. Jennifer, Ozzy vs. Jennifer aka protective dad Oz, memories of blood and violence, Lena receives some unwanted attention, straight-up violence (mentions of knives & lots of punching) My editing site is on the fritz and I sped edited this so please take any mistakes with a grain of salt!

Moments of true freedom - from life and even from one's own thoughts - were rare, especially in this city. The noise and the strong smells and the bright lights all demanded immediate attention and, at times, made settling impossible. That was why walking through the old gym, surrounded by the steady sounds of fists striking the sandbags and Patrick's loud voice practically shouting encouragement at those he worked with, was peaceful. That, above all familial ties, was why The Ring was special.

Boxing had always been a passion for Peter. There was a time when he'd practically lived and breathed it. He'd been so strong then, so agile in and out of the ring. So how was it he now stood, panting in front of the lightest punching bag they had? Cancer. Right, he thought, forcing his thin, sore body to take a stance in front of the bag and punch. Just one more. He'd tell himself, though one often turned into ten which then turned into too many.

Patrick watched him; no matter what part of the gym he was in or what task he was doing, Peter could feel his brother's eyes. It both made him feel comfortable and irritated. He was the big brother. It was his job to be watching them, but he couldn't even do that. The image of Lena's worn down, fearful expression she'd shown him a few days ago after her encounter with Jennifer flashed in his mind. He ground his teeth together, punching as hard as he could. She didn't deserve to feel that way, not after what she lived through, and he'd sworn… He'd promised to protect her. Peter believed himself in many things, but now chief among those was one word. One damning title he knew he'd never be rid of. Liar.

Anger had never fueled him before, he'd never needed it to, but now that seemed to be the only thing he had left. The only thing the damn leukemia hadn't stripped him of. Peter missed his hair and his muscle and the way he could eat and drink whatever he wanted without worrying about throwing it all up immediately after. He missed the days when he'd dance with his father in the ring and get to listen to the older man's stories. He missed the peace that boxing had once brought him.

"The Harrow's got their demons, boy," his father always said. "Demons you ain't been touched by. It's bout the only thing I'll give the Glovers credit for."

Lena had always been haunted by Dad's fabled Harrow Demons. She'd been brash and angry and hurt for years after she'd come to live with them permanently. Peter remembered those days so clearly. Patrick and Lena fought until they were both bloody and bruised - Pat, the wary stray dog that saw Lena's trauma and anger as a threat to the life he'd somehow stumbled into, and Lena, the stray cat that saw Patrick's size and temper and was incapable of separating him from the others that had abused her - Ozzy and Dad arguing over what to do about the fighting and drugs and discontent. Boxing was the one thing that took all their noise and chaos and demons and turned it into something better.

Better was when his sister didn't flinch at his every move, and Patrick stopped sneaking food from the table to hoard in that hideous old backpack full of essentials he kept under his bed for years. Better was Dad and Ozzy sharing long looks as they all sat around the table at Nana's eating dinner together. It was watching his siblings playfully bicker as they turned on Ghostbusters - Dad's favorite movie - before they passed out on the floor of their tiny living room. He closed his eyes, clinging to the faint feeling of warmth the memories brought him as he imagined his Dad's warm embrace as he and Ozzy smashed him between them on the old couch.

Passion, love, warmth. That's what he should have felt as his fists hit their target, but it wasn't. The comforting warmth turned cold as a bitter, frustrated, and angry shout escaped his throat, and he nearly fell to the floor. Patrick was at his side in an instant, his brother's coarse hands settling onto his shoulder, discreetly holding him steady. "Easy there, hot shot. Don't wanna break the bag or any bones."

Peter knew his words were teasing, but the tight cold anger that squeezed his throat didn't seem to care. He shrugged off Patrick's hands and glared at him. "I'm fine."

"Pete," his brother started.

"Fuck off, Patrick." He didn't sound like himself but rather some hollow shell of what he used to be. 

Thank god Patrick knew when to leave well enough alone. "Holler if you need me, big brother," he patted his shoulder with no look of pity or anger at Peter's harshness but rather a soft smile. "I'll be here."

He'd never admit it to those closest to him, but Peter was afraid. Leukemia wasn't a simple thing. It was a death sentence for so many, and part of him couldn't help but scoff at the idea that he would be any different. Nestled comfortably beside that dark thought was another, equally ugly. Maybe death would be better. 

Catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, he felt the disconnect cut through him like he was made of butter. The face staring back wasn't him. It was too old, too thin, and too… Dead to be him. He remembered what his face was supposed to look like - full cheeks and a wide smile, shaggy brown hair, and life inside his eyes. Peter didn't know the person that stared back at him. Had the cancer taken that too? Had it taken all he was as well as all he could have been?

Behind him, someone cleared their throat, and Peter bit the inside of his cheek. "I said I'm fine, Pat. Just leave it."

"That's hardly a tone a son should have with his mother." Everything inside him stilled. He didn't want to look, didn't want to face the woman that had hurt him more than the cancer ever could. After the initial shock, his father's stubbornness and Ozzy's pride filled his lungs, forcing him to turn and glare at the old wrinkled face of Jennifer Glover.

She looked different than he remembered, though his memory of her was limited to his early childhood, where her skin had been smooth, and her blonde hair hadn't been speckled with strands of gray. It was the smile that made him angry again. Soft and smug, condescending even when coming to grovel. "It's a good thing I'm not your son then, isn't it?"

"Come now, darling." She dared a step forward and extended her hand to his cheek. For a moment, it almost looked like she was hurt, seeing him so sickly. For a moment, Peter could have fooled himself into believing she cared. "You look so-"

He brushed her hand off him. "I don't need you to tell me how sick I look."

"Older. I was going to say you looked so much older than I imagined." Jennifer chuckled, shaking her head. "I was sorry to hear about your diagnosis."

"Sorry?" He spat. "Spare me the pity and just tell me what you want."

She recoiled slightly with a disappointed hum. "I want to spend time with my son."

Peter laughed then, bitter and cold. "Ahh, of course. I'm only worth your time when I'm dying, right?"

"There's no need to be cruel, Peter." Jennifer sighed. "I'm trying to show you I care."

"Too little too late." He sucked in a hot breath, putting a fire in his lungs. "You could have reached out years ago… You could have never left, but you did. What was it you said that day?" The look on her face told him she remembered, but the way she pulled her lips tightly together told him she wasn't going to admit it.

She knelt down and took his hands in hers, smiling at him while Dad held onto Lena as if his life depended on it. "Your sister and I are going away."

"Will you be back soon?" He asked the child-like innocence in his voice hopeful.

"No." His mother fixed his hair with a look of disinterest.

His brows knit together. "Can I come to visit you?"

She sighed. "Lena and I will be very busy, and we likely won't be in one place long enough for visits."

"I'm not going to see you again?" He asked. "But… You're my mom." His eyes drifted to Lena. "She's my sister. We're a family."

"You have too much of your father in you," was her bitter reply. "He is your family. Lena is mine."

Peter felt his heart shatter at her words. "I don't understand."

Jennifer squeezed his hands and stood. "Goodbye, Peter."

He could only stand in shock and watch her glare at Dad as he whispered to Lena. "I promise I'll see you again, slugger."

She practically ripped Lena away and shoved the small child into the back of the cab, turning over her shoulder. "Remember my promise, Jack."

Dad shook his head and spit on the sidewalk. "Remember mine too, Jen."

"I had too much of my father in me." Peter laughed. "That was your reasoning for leaving me behind and never even bothering to visit or call."

She pursed her lips to cover up her disdain. "I made mistakes-"

"Abusing my sister wasn't a mistake." He ground his teeth together. "And abandoning me sure as hell wasn't one either."

Jennifer opened her mouth to speak again but was overshadowed by the booming voice of his brother as he returned from the back room. "Oi! We don't have a sign or nothing but no neglectful wannabe mothers allowed in the gym!"

Disgust filled her features instantly as she looked at the copper head of hair that shoved beside her. "And here I thought Jack showed some sense and got rid of you before dying."

"The old man was sensible enough." Patrick grinned. "He died with everything you ever wanted."

"Leave me and my son to our conversation, you worthless stray."

"I'm not your son." Peter straightened his back and stepped between the two of them. "Get out, Jennifer. My brother and I have a gym to run."

To his surprise, she didn't argue as she turned and made her way to the door, pausing to look back at him. "I was wrong, you know. Lena turned out to be just like your father, but you…" She smiled. "You're mine, Peter."

Patrick was quick to scoff and flip her off as she left the building. "What a bitch." He looked at Peter with a sigh. "You alright?"

"Yeah," he replied, shaking off the question. "I'm fine."

"What's it we always tell Lena?" Patrick asked. "It's okay not to be okay."

"That's different."

"No, it isn't."

"Lena has lived through some of the worst things in this world-"

Pat nodded along for a moment before interrupting. "So have you. Leukemia isn't a walk in the park, Pete. It's taken a toll on ya and I… We all want you to know it's okay if you're not fine."

Peter could feel the sting of tears building in his eyes as Jennifer's words burrowed into his mind and Patrick's genuine heartfelt concern swirled around him. All of it was warring. Anger and peace. Jennifer's calculus manipulation and Patrick's warm support. He didn't know what to feel, so he settled, exhaling a long breath. "I know. I'm… Sorry, I've been so short with you lately."

"Don't apologize," Pat insisted. "God knows I've been a real dick to you sometimes."

Laughing at the truth of his words, Peter set a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Thanks for putting up with me."

Patrick smiled. "That's what family does. Now stop worrying, big brother, and give me ten more solid punches."

For the first time in weeks, he felt the anger shift, turning into the passion he once held in abundance. With each new punch, Peter slowly accepted the fact that things had changed, he had changed, and that was okay. Sure, he didn't look or feel like himself, but with time that wouldn't last forever. He was angry and bitter, but he'd earned that right, and emotions like that didn't last long when smothered by the love and support of a family. And Peter had one hell of a family.

*

Sweat glistened on her skin as the warm morning light poured in through his window. Her red hair clung to her as she moved on top of him, face soft and twisted in pleasure. Jake couldn’t stop touching her, his palms taking hold of her thighs, squeezing the soft flesh and helping her bounce on his dick. His scalp burned at the pressure of her long fingers digging into his hair, pulling at him until their lips touched.

Kissing her was like kissing an open flame. It consumed him entirely, making his face burn with heat and desire and everything in between. Lena made him feel alive, a thing he’d never really thought he lacked until her. The sensations of her hips rising and falling atop him were hazy and undefined, he didn’t really feel it if he focused on it, but he hardly needed to feel anything when he could hear the lewd noises she made.

“Jake,” she breathed his name, desperate and wanton, a sound that sent shivers down his spine and made his hands grab her harder.

“Don’t stop,” he urged her, forcing her back down onto his aching cock. Beneath his palms, he could feel her shaking, and it only made him want to ruin her more. 

A whine echoed from her throat as she threw her head back. “I can’t…”

“Come on, princess,” he replied, kissing her neck. “Just one more. Just give me one more.”

“Jake.”

His teeth wrapped around her throat, sucking an angry mark there as she dragged her nails down his back and arched into him. Lathering the red area with his tongue for a moment, he smiled against her. “Scream my name as loud as you need to. It’s just you and me.”

She laughed, a sound that, while not even remotely sexual, made his dick pulse and his control over his own orgasm waver. “God, your ego is unbelievable.”

“Stop acting like you don’t love it.” Jake moved a hand from her thigh to pull her chin down. “You like my ego.”

With a soft hum, she pulled her fingers up his neck, stroking his cheeks before she settled on cupping his jaw. Her hips slowed against his into long and languid strokes that made him shudder and her breath hitch. “I just like you.”

Flashes of that night walking to her apartment after the movie flooded his mind. Her eyes were darker as he looked into them, mirroring the night she’d spoken the words to him. “I don’t want to lose this.” The admission was one he wanted to say then… one he’d wanted to promise wasn’t even a possibility but just couldn’t bring himself to. Jake had a habit of fucking up every good thing he found, and this… Lena was something special. He couldn’t live with himself if he fucked this up.

Her soft, genuine smile made his heart stutter. “You won’t.” Goosebumps flared along his skin, and her smile turned smug. “Now, fuck me. If you think can handle it, pretty boy.”

With a smirk, his hand slid down her back, pushing her down even further on him, earning a sharp gasp and a shuddering breath. “I don’t think I’m the one that needs to worry about handling it.”

“I…” she gasped as he began to move his hips up into her. “I… Can… fuck-” Her eyes closed tightly, brows knitting together as he quickened the pace. “Do… this… all… day…”

His eyes glued to her chest as her breasts bounced with the quick movements. “That’s good 'cause I’ve got no intentions of stopping. Not when you look this good while I’m fucking you.”

Jake could feel her tighten around him. He could feel her body grow stiff as she reached her peak. “Jake!”

“JAKE!” Another voice practically shouted in his ear as pressure slammed atop his chest and shook him until his eyes shot open. Simone shook her head at him and sighed. “It’s a wonder you manage to show up to work at all.”

“Simone…” he shook his head, wiping the sleep from his eyes and quickly trying to rid himself of the disappointment of Lena’s absence. "What are you doing here?"

The blonde moved around his small apartment, picking clothes up off the ground and throwing away any stray garbage she found. "I thought I'd surprise you with breakfast, but your place is a disaster. Guess we'll have to just go out."

"What time is it?" He asked, vision still blurry.

"Eight-thirty." 

That made him jump out of bed. "Fuck!"

Simone gave him a curious look as he began throwing clothes on. With a laugh, she asked, "Are you late for something?"

"I'm about to be," Jake offered freely.

Her face fell into disbelief. "What would you have to do this early? You never get up before ten."

He froze, throat going dry as he weighed his options. Lying wasn't a habit Jake ever really had when it came to Simone, but telling her the truth would practically be inviting a fight. Was there a safe middle ground to telling her that he'd been spending every morning at The Ring, boxing with Lena's brothers? Both brothers often spoke about running the business; that could be enough. 

Moving once again, he shrugged. "I've been taking a few morning business classes."

"Business classes?" She questioned with narrow eyes. "When did this start?"

Practically two months ago. "Only a few weeks ago."

Simone didn't bother hiding her displeased look as she crossed her arms. "This isn't another of your hair-brained bar plans with Scott, is it?"

Jake knew what Simone thought about his desire to open his own place. She'd told him more times than he could count once she found out his plans with Scott. But, despite all the times he'd heard her call his dream stupid, it still stung. "No. That's…" He was going to tell her it was dead, done, over, but then he remembered the meeting he agreed to think about attending. Was it really over? "That's behind me."

"Good." She sighed. "Now, I suppose, what I don't understand is why you're wasting time with business classes."

"You're the one always telling me I need to apply myself more."

"I meant applying yourself at the job you already have, Jake. Not some… Random useless class."

With another nod, he shrugged on his jacket. "Yeah, well, I'll probably drop it. I'm not exactly good at all that business stuff."

If Simone had bothered to look at his bookshelf, she'd see through his lie. Multiple books on business sat on his shelves, another thing to remind him of his supposed forgotten venture with Scott. Instead, she just smiled. "So, breakfast?"

"Not today," he answered, heading toward the door. "I'm gonna give it one last shot. Maybe today I'll finally start getting it."

"Unlikely," she replied, following him out with a flat tone of mild annoyance and disappointment. "We both know you have a hard time paying attention while you're hung over."

Jake didn't bother telling her he wasn't hung over. Simone wouldn't have believed him anyway. On the sidewalk, she pulled him into a tight hug, an intimate gesture that once filled him with elation but now just felt… less. He smiled at her. “I won’t be late today, I promise.”

Simone pursed her lips. “We’ll see.”

He hurried to The Ring, where Dom stood outside smoking next to his bike. The drug dealer nodded to Jake, a simple gesture that was somehow filled with more respect than he’d expected. Patrick turned and sent him a glare the second he walked in the doors. “You’re late.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist Pat,” Jake replied sarcastically, shrugging his jacket off and heading toward the locker room with Patrick following close behind. “I…” Had an intense sex dream about your little sister. “I slept through my alarm.”

The redhead scoffed, standing in the doorway of the locker room, reaching up to tap the set of old gloves, his father's gloves, that hung over the door. “Well, sleepy, meet me in the ring if you think you can handle it.” If you think can handle it, pretty boy. Jake swallowed hard. “If not, we can reschedule for tomorrow.”

“I'm wide awake,” he replied hoarsely, pulling the gym tank top over his head and shoving everything else into the locker he’d been frequenting for the past two months. Jake sat on a small bench, quietly greeting the other gym goers that frequented the morning hours. Usually, he'd spend his time clearing his mind as he wrapped his hands, but today that proved difficult. He just couldn't shake that dream. Couldn't shake how real it felt or how badly he wanted it.

Loud purring at his feet pulled him from those thoughts as the hairless cat from the alley, the one he'd been seeing almost every morning, pounced on the bench beside him. The thin slits of its rich brown eyes widened as it stared up at him, gently kneading the side of his leg as it purred. Jake smiled, lifting a hand to scratch behind its large ears just where the little thing seemed to enjoy it. "Hey there," he greeted, chuckling as the cat sprained across his lap. "Can't sit around today, little guy. I've got to get in some practice before work."

The cat looked displeased by his answer and let out an angry hiss when he stood up, placing the cat back on the ground. "Relax, Hemingway. I'll let you sit on the couch with me while I smoke later."

Hemingway, a name Jake gave to the fickle creature because of the proud way it stood, as well as its rich brown eyes that reminded him of the old book that sat on Lena's bookshelf by the well-known author, rubbed against his leg and walked out through the locker room door as another person entered. Jake followed him out, watching as the cat stalked the gym, head high and chest puffed out as if he towered over everything and everyone. The attitude was another contributor to his famous namesake.

Patrick was waiting for him in the larger ring while Peter appeared to be occupying the small one with a sandbag in one of the corners. With an impatient wave, the larger man ushered him into the ring with a smile as he looked over Jake’s wraps. “You’re getting better at that. Which is good, considering I’m gonna beat your ass today.”

“You know, I’m starting to question your teaching methods,” Jake replied with a smirk.

A bellowing laugh echoed through the whole gym as Patrick laughed, tossing him a pair of gloves. “Get your gloves on, Jerky Jake, and say it to me again.”

He groaned at how quickly the stupid name Lena had given him spread through the gym. Everyone was calling him Jerky Jake, even people he’d never sparred with before. It was like the restaurant. No, Jake thought admiring the close community of people helping one another out with wrappings or sharing their music and equipment. It’s better than the restaurant.

People actually gave a shit here. They put their all into the sport and they were damn nice when newcomers joined without any clue what they were doing. Jake couldn’t count the number of times Patrick had stepped away and some stranger had offered advice on his footing or position. The Ring was like a giant family one that wasn’t riddled with toxic gossip and pay gaps and a manager like Howard. The Ring was Lena, her stubborn determination and her strategic mind, and her powerful body. It was alive and, just like she did, it made him feel alive too. Getting to punch people helped too.

Jake danced around the ring with Patrick for a while before the back door swung open and Lena’s soft voice sent a chill up his spine. He turned to look, earning a swift punch to the gut as Patrick exploited the distraction. “Ow,” Jake complained, glaring at his instructor.

“Never take your eyes off your opponent,” Patrick chastised with a smile. “Even for pretty girls.”

Rolling his eyes he turned back to watch Lena bend over and adorn Hemingway with attention. She scratched beneath his chin and whispered to him with a wide smile. Fucking beautiful. Too beautiful. Everyone greeted her as she walked deeper into the space, but she didn’t notice him until Patrick yelled for her to grab him water. When she turned back, water bottle in hand, their eyes locked and his dream came rushing back like a dam bursting. Fuck.

Her head tilted to the side as she smirked at him, smug and sexy and distracting. She tossed Patrick his bottle and stepped up on the side of the ring, resting her arms along the ropes. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early let alone in a ring with my brother.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he countered. “What are you doin’ here so early?”

“I decided to get in a good workout before work.”

Patrick chuckled. “Lord knows you’ve got some anger to burn off.”

Lena flipped him off, never once taking her eyes off him. “Well, how’s Jerky Jake doing?”

“He’s got some power in him, a bit slow and clumsy with his footing still.”

She clicked her tongue. “Sounds like you’ve got some work to do.”

“Maybe you can help me later.”

“Oh you’re not ready to go toe to toe with Leanin’ Lena,” Patrick replied laughing harder. “She’d kill you.”

Her wink sent his heart into pathetic stutters and he watched her leave, eyes instantly focusing on her hips and her thighs, remembering how they’d felt to hold in his dream. Patrick’s fist collided with his shoulder. “OW!”

“Focus!” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You can stare at my sister later.”

For a few minutes, Jake was able to focus and land a few solid hits on the more experienced boxer, but then Lena emerged from the locker room in a skin-tight crop top and shorts that made her thighs look even more amazing than they already did. As she worked out at a personal punching bag he found his eyes wandering to her, taking hits every time they did because Patrick refused to allow him even one minute of distraction. Eventually, they switched to some workout machine to help him work on his stamina while Lena moved into the ring with one of the other regulars. 

It’d been a while since he saw her fight, and while this wasn’t nearly as brutal it was just as distracting. Her skin was glossed with sweat, her whole body was alive and flexed and her eyes were focused on her opponent. It was in moments like this that made Jake fully realize just how powerful and strong she physically was. A goddess of fire and passion encased in mortal flesh. Her emerald eyes flashed to his, those lips quirking up into a smile as she easily dodged a hit from her opponent. God fucking damn it. 

*

After my workout was over and Jake had been released from Patrick’s teachings we met up at the front counter, both grabbing a bottle of water before we opened our mouths to speak. Whisky jumped in between us, nearly spilling my water all over the counter to hop into Jake’s arms. “Chill out Hemingway.”

"Hemingway?" I asked with a laugh, reaching over to scratch beneath his chin. "This is Whisky."

"Whisky?" Jake chuckled, lifting the cat to examine it. "Nah, Hemingway fits better."

I tilted my head and arched my brow. "Since when did you become the authority on stray cat names?"

"Since you think this clearly distinguished cat's name should be Whisky."

Rolling my eyes, I asked, "Why Hemingway?"

Jake shrugged, readjusting the cat. "It's a classic."

I pulled one of the cat treats out from behind the counter and smirked when Whisky leaped out of Jake's arms to try and snatch it from me. "He's too feisty to be some old author. He's clearly a Whisky."

We both watched the cat devour the small treat, purring between us. “You wanna walk with me to work today?”

“No biker escort?” Jake asked, looking out the front windows.

“No,” I replied. “Things have calmed down since the whole rock incident so hopefully that will be over soon.”

He nodded. “I’ll make sure to keep the walk entertaining for you, princess.”

I rolled my eyes and headed toward the stairs to the apartment. “See you in a minute Jerky Jake.”

*

Work was oddly normal. Simone and Olive kept to themselves, keeping whatever hushed whispers about how amazing my mother was quiet as I worked beside them. Jake’s gaze, however, seemed more heated than usual. He watched me as I waited on the tables with this look of pure lust smoldering in his blue eyes. His watching me had become a normal thing, but this… this made me blush on the spot.

After the shift had ended and everyone was out of the locker room I tried to return Jake’s jacket by quickly shoving it in his locker while he was standing there. With a chuckle, he pulled it out. “Seriously?”

I shoved it back in, pressing my chest further into his back. “Oh come on just let this one be easy!”

“Fine,” he replied. “Just this once because you asked so nicely.”

“Thank you!” I replied pressing a kiss to his neck. “See you tomorrow?”

He turned, looking disappointed and surprised that I wasn’t planning on heading to the bar. “Not going out tonight?”

I shrugged. “I kind of promised Ryker and the bikers that have been standing outside my house dinner. Raincheck though?”

“Raincheck,” he said quietly with a shake of his head. “See you tomorrow.”

*

The city lights cast a thin ray, a halo of bright colors, through my new window. I kept my distance, opting to keep the darker curtains drawn as Dom had told me, but the little I could see of the city outside made me want to forego caution. Leaning against the counter, I watched the lights silently, trying to keep the feelings of being trapped at bay. I wasn't trapped here. Here was home, one of the places I specifically kept to keep from ever feeling that way again.

My phone buzzing against the counter made me jump with a far too startled sound. Jake's now familiar number flashed along my screen as I flipped it open with a smile. "It's a bit late for friendly conversation." I over-exaggerated a gasp. "Is this a booty call?"

I could practically feel him roll his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, you know, just sitting around in lingerie thinking about you," I teased.

He chuckled. "That's quite a pretty picture. But seriously, what are you doing?"

"I just finished cleaning up after my hungry biker guests." I glanced back at the now clean dishes stacked away on my shelves. "You just get home?"

"No," he replied with a deep sigh. "I've been home for a while."

Making my way to my bedroom, I tossed the unfolded laundry into an open chair and plopped down onto my clean poofy blanket. "You sound so thrilled about it."

He scoffed. "I'd much rather be anywhere else right now."

My brows furrowed. "Not a fan of your apartment?"

"Not a fan of an empty bed," he replied with that signature flirtatious tone.

"Mmm," I hummed with a grin. "Well, I'm sure you know plenty of women that'd be willing to come entertain you."

"Yet I called the singular one that won't." Jake scoffed. "Kind of pathetic, right?"

Warmth blazed in my chest at the admission I knew held more depth than Jake would ever admit. "I think it's sweet."

He made a gagging noise. "Sweet is a word people use to describe Will."

"And you can't share a description word with Will?"

"Fuck no."

"Whatever you say, sweetie."

"I'll hang up on you."

"You called me," I reminded.

With another sigh, I could make out vague sounds on his end as he seemingly tried to settle into one spot. "I did."

There was a quiet pause between us as I enthusiastically asked, "You okay, tough guy?"

The sound of his laugh was almost bitter as he replied, "It's nothing I can't handle."

"What's up?"

"Lena-”

"Oh, come on, don't make me get annoying."

Jake contemplated his response. "I'm just going through a bit of a… Sensitive phase."

"Did something happen?" I asked, suddenly worried he'd been going through some kind of emotional turmoil and I'd not noticed.

"No… It's… It's more of a physical problem." He sighed, deep and almost pained. "If you catch my meaning."

"Ahh," I bit back a chuckle. "I really did a number on you, didn't I?"

"You did," he admitted. "What are you wearing?"

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously?"

"Oh, come on. You're the one making things so hard for me with those fuckin eyes and that pretty smile and…" He groaned. "That body."

Heat rose to my cheeks, a chill rushing through my body at the sound of his voice cracking. "Should I give you some privacy?"

He laughed, a sound that shouldn't have made me want more but did. "I was thinking you could lend me a hand, actually. You know, help a friend out?"

"Most friends don't help each other get off."

"Come on," he whispered. "Please?"

My eyes fluttered shut, and I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth. Fuck… "Fine, but only because you sound so sweet when you ask nicely."

Jake ignored my response almost completely. "What are you wearing?"

"How do you want to play this?" I pondered, toying with my simple T-shirt. "You want the truth, or should I just bullshit you til you come?"

"The truth," he replied.

"It's nothing as scandalous as you're hoping for," I warned him.

"Everything's scandalous when it comes to you." Jake let out a long breath before he added, “Come on, paint me a picture, princess.”

I laid back, head resting in a cradle of pillows. “I’m wearing a T-shirt probably a few sizes too big and the ugliest underwear I own.”

Jake chuckled. “How ugly?”

“Beige with a hole on the left asscheek.” When he didn’t answer, I kept talking. “The T-shirt isn’t anything special either, just black with some abstract orange logo for a sports team, I think.”

“How low does it hang on you?”

“Mid-thigh,” I answered with a smirk. “Quinn cut a pretty deep V into the neckline, though. So now my tits fall out every time I bend over or lay down.” There was that groan I wanted. His breath sounded like static over the phone as he practically panted. “You alright, Sweetie?” I teased.

Jake moaned and answered with a breathless, absolutely wrecked voice, “Just keep talking.”

This was too much fun. “And what would you like me to talk about, Jake?”

“Anything.”

“Taxes?” I asked, voice silky and sultry. “Or I could talk about how to make one of Scott's favorite dishes.”

He sighed. “Do you have to be so annoying about this?”

Giggling I nodded to myself. “Absolutely.”

“God,” he groaned again, the faint sound of him desperately working his, assumingly, aching cock echoed through the phone, sending a wave of heated pleasure down my spine.

“You sound pretty,” I whispered.

“Come over then,” he taunted, sounding far more wrecked than I think he thought he would.

With a hum, I actually considered it. I wanted nothing more than to grab my coat and take a cab to his apartment so he could rip my stupid shirt in half and fuck me. Eventually, I sighed. “Raincheck?”

Jake sounded far more frustrated than he should have as he replied, “You’re worse than Sasha.”

“Goodnight, Jake,” I said with a smirk. “Try not to dream of me too much.”

“Wait!” Click.

He was going to be pissed about that tomorrow.

*

As expected Jake was even more moody than usual when I arrived at work. It was a more lighthearted kind of moody, with little looks and discrete middle fingers throughout family meal, but it was worth it when I restocked the bar and asked, “So, how’d it feel jerking off to the thought of my voice?”

He stumbled over his words as he spoke to the guest in front of him, turned to grab a bottle of whatever they’d ordered, and whispered, “Why don’t you come over and watch? Find out for yourself just how it was.”

The night descended into Hell from there when my mother and Olive came into the restaurant and demanded a table. Howard, the loyal lapdog, bumped the guests at table ten and found them a seat. Lucky for me I was able to hide in the kitchen, but even then my mother found ways to let me know she wasn’t going anywhere. Like sending back food, five times.

Heather set the plate down with a sigh. "I've got a refire on ten."

"Again?" Scott tossed his utensils down and examined the dish with curious eyes. "What'd she say was wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Heather replied tentatively. "She just said she wanted it redone."

I threw down my own cooking tools and grabbed the plate. "Fuck this."

The kitchen door swung open as I charged through, holding the plate of food she'd sent back. My mother sat at table ten with a smile as she lazily swirled the wine in her glass, watching me approach. I didn’t care about the other guests or about anything but finally teaching her a lesson as I threw the plate onto the table. “Eat it or fucking starve.”

“That’s hardly the way an employee should talk to a customer.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not just a customer then, isn’t it?”

Mother smiled wider as Howard approached. “Oh, how far the quality of this establishment has fallen.”

His hands came to grasp my shoulders. “My apologies, Ms. Glover. Lena ple-”

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” I shook his hands off, turning to glare at him as I walked away.

Jake nodded to me from the bar, a smile on his face as he proudly regarded my actions. For a moment, the anger burned softer, more manageable as everyone else, Nicky, Sasha and Ari, and Heather, quietly cheered me on as I slipped back into the kitchen. Service went well after that. No more plates being sent back or requests for eight different wines to taste, just normal everyday service. While it felt nice being able to breathe again, I knew it wasn’t over.

The locker room was rowdy as everyone complained about my mother's behavior, each in their own way trying to show me it didn’t matter to them that they wouldn’t hold it against me. Jake was the only one that was quiet as he stood next to his locker and waited for me. Sasha eyed the two of us. “Do I need to stay as well? Or are you two going to keep your filthy hands to yourselves?”

He smirked at the Russian. “Hard to tell.”

“Go ahead, Sasha,” I replied with a laugh. “I’m not really in a handsy mood tonight.”

With narrow eyes, he pointed at both of us. “I’m watching you two.”

Once he was gone, Jake shook his head. “He’s more determined than I expected.”

“Oh?” I teased. “Was him literally butting into our little makeout session not enough proof for you?”

“He’s always like that.”

“Fair point.”

Once I was fully dressed to go, he nodded to the stairs. “You hanging out for a bit, or are we sneaking out the back?”

With a deep sigh, I started for the stairs. “Sadly, I think I’ll have to stay so my mother will actually leave everyone else alone.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I’ll make your drink extra strong.”

“My hero,” I replied with a smile.

As expected, my mother sat at the bar waiting for me with a blank expression. Once I took the seat next to her, it was quiet, horrifyingly so. Jake kept his promise and slid me my usual drink with an extra shot, and as I drank, my mother sighed. "This isn't you.”

"What would you know about me?" I asked coldly.

“I raised you to be better than some… drunk,” she replied. "And above that, I am your mother."

I chuckled. "That means less than you think it does, and it certainly doesn't mean you know me."

She sighed. "How many times do we have to do this, Lena?"

"What was the book I always read when we spent our summers in Cape Cod?" I asked. "What's my favorite book?"

Mother's face drained of the thin mask, shifting into annoyance at my question, and further beneath that, hidden so deep inside her that even she wouldn't see it was a hint of realization. The reality that she was wrong. "This is ridiculous."

"You think you know me? Then answer me," I demanded. "What book did I read over and over and over again until the pages started falling out?" My mother rolled her eyes. "Too hard? I'll ask something easier then. What's my favorite color?"

"This hardly proves any-"

"When's my birthday?" I continued. She didn't answer, couldn't answer. "You can't answer a single question about me, and yet you have the fucking audacity to stand here and pretend that you know me at all." I shook my head and scoffed. "You're not my mother."

Clapping echoed from the front door as Ozzy entered. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, darling.”

“Oswald,” Mother sneered, turning to look at him as he made his way to my side. “How lovely to see you.”

“Jen. It’s always so unfortunate when we cross paths.”

Her smile was tense. “I see you haven’t lost your juvenile sense of humor.”

"Never. Now, my daughter and I will be going," Ozzy replied, gently pulling me away from my mother.

"She is my daughter Oswald." Her hand snapped out and took hold of my wrist. "I am the one that birthed her and gave her every advantage!"

Ozzy placed himself between us, staring my mother down with rage swimming in his eyes. "You were the one that almost let that monster kill her. Hell, you almost killed her yourself a few times. You will never be anything more than an old, sad, washed-up ballerina Jen."

"How dare-"

"Jack might not be here to fulfill his promise, but I sure as hell am. Now, take your hands off my daughter and fuck off."

They stared each other down for a long moment before she finally loosened her grip on me. When my arm was free, her eyes met mine. "When you finally come to your senses, you know where to find me."

I shook my head, forcing the hurt down beneath my anger. "I don't think that's something I'm capable of. After all, I am my father's daughter."

Ozzy wrapped an arm around my shoulder, carefully leading me away toward the door. He raised his hand, waving back at the crowd of my coworkers. "Goodbye, Jen. We look forward to reading your name in the obituary!"

We walked in the cool city air, arm in arm, for a long time before I spoke. “Thanks for coming.”

“I would never leave you to suffer that woman alone,” Oz replied, bumping my shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Surprisingly, yeah, I am.” I sighed. “It felt kind of good to confront her.”

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “Just like your father would be.”

The thought was one that brought me some comfort, that my dad would have stood over my shoulder and encouraged me to lay into her deeper. Maybe he was… “How did he ever deal with her?”

Ozzy’s wide smile changed then, suddenly sad and in pain. “She wasn’t always a shrew, you know. When your dad brought her into the bar for the first time, she was actually quite lovely.”

“She was?”

“Of course. How’d you think we ended up with you two?”

“What changed?”

He considered the question before he shook his head. “She got tired of keeping up the act. By that time, the damage had been done.”

I held onto him tighter. “It all worked out in the end. I mean, as well as it could have.”

“That it did, my girl,” Ozzy said softly. “That it did.”

*

Back at the bar and significantly more drunk the group unwound from the long night, and everyone slowly began to shed the weight of my mother’s visit. Everyone but Peter. He drank his water, staring off into empty space until Patrick or I would grab his attention again, but I knew the weight of whatever words she’d managed to have with him carried. He left early, heading upstairs with the simple excuse of being tired. I was worried about him, after everything he had going on my mother should have been the least of it.

Quinn and Prue were determined to help me unwind with drinks and an abundance of shitty jokes and games. It helped, in a way only they could pull off. The night was slowly turning around as I hopped in to help get drinks to the tables and my friends carried on having fun together. I leaned over a table, grabbing the now empty glasses, when an unfamiliar body slid behind me. “How’s it goin, baby girl?”

The nickname made my blood run cold. It wasn’t him. I told myself over and over again that it wasn’t Tony, but there was always that lingering doubt that plagued me until I turned around. The rich asshole that had dined at the restaurant and that had tried to force himself on me in Tony’s penthouse stood too close to me, smiling down at me with leering eyes. I shook my head and tried to shove past him. “Fuck off.”

His hand grabbed my arm. “Not this time. I want that kiss you robbed me of.”

“Let go.” My voice carried, and in my peripheral, I saw Dom rise to his feet.

With a frustrated sigh, the man pulled something from his pocket. A metallic sound echoed in my ears as I pulled on my arm, stilling only when the familiar chill of steel on my neck made me freeze. "I said, not this time bitch."

I had no idea what came over me as I tore my arm from his grasp and moved quickly, the blade just barely cutting the side of my neck as he reached trying to regain his hold on me. As I stumbled to the floor Dom's solid body moved, punching the man in the face once. Twice.

Everything around me slowed as I pressed my fingers to the blood that now trailed down my neck. The sting of the cut had faded, but memories of the all too familiar sensation replayed in my mind longer as I watched Dom’s fists beat down on the face of my attacker. The sound of bones breaking brought a wave of nausea to my gut, and for a moment, reality seemed to shift. For a moment, I wasn’t on the floor of Ozzy’s but back in the penthouse, watching Tony beat down anyone foolish enough to question him.

My ears started to ring, filling with static. I knew, realistically, that only a minute or two had passed, but it felt longer. My eyes focused on the blood that now flew off Dom’s fists as I brought my hands up to cover my ears, attempting to drown out the voice Dom never used anymore… The voice that reminded me too much of Tony. Jake pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered and dropped down to the ground beside me so quickly that I couldn’t control the way I flinched.

His mouth moved with words I couldn’t hear as his eyes fixed on my neck, on the blood that now soaked into my top. He quickly reached up and grabbed a rag from the table and pressed it to the cut, only then turning his eyes to the bloody sight in front of us. The static began to fade from my ears, slowly bringing the noise back. Ozzy’s voice bellowed from behind the bar. “Dominic! That’s enough!”

Patrick shoved through the crowd, followed by a few of the bikers. “Oi! Come on, Dom. Not here, man.”

Dom couldn’t hear them, or he simply chose not to, as his fists kept bearing down through multiple hands, trying to pull him back. With a shaking voice, I called out, weak and half-spoken, “Dom…” His movements stopped, and his head turned dark… violent consumed eyes met mine. The hardened mask he wore, the mask of some brutal drug dealer, fell as he saw how scared I was… how scared I was of him. “Please.”

He stood then, towering over me with shaking, bloody hands. Jake shifted, putting himself between me and the drug dealer, an action I didn't think even he realized he'd done. Dom regarded him with a far-off look before he turned, brushing past Patrick and Ozzy and heading toward the door. The bikes followed, two of them picking up the now unconscious asshole and carrying him out. Ozzy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry for the mess. The bars closing now."

"You heard the man!" Patrick reinforced. "Get the fuck out!"

Ozzy turned and carefully reached toward Jake and me. “Keep pressure on the cut, son. Pat and I will get her up.”

Patrick appeared on the opposite side of me, making himself look as small as he could as he reached toward me with a grin. “Just breathe. We’ve got ya, little sister.”

With the help of the two older men, Jake was able to keep a steady hold on the rag pressed to my neck as they helped me to my feet and led me to the back office in Ozzy’s comfortable chair. Jake knelt in front of me, eyes glued to the side of my neck where the blood had begun soaking through the rag. Ozzy’s large hand settled on his shoulder, and with the kind smile he was known for, he said, “Breathe, lad.”

“Ya did good,” Patrick complimented. “Any other idiot woulda freaked out.”

Ozzy placed a hand over Jake’s. “I’ve gotta see how deep the cut is.” Without a word, Jake slowly let go, but his eyes never left me as Ozzy pulled the rag back and breathed out a sigh of relief. “It’s just a little knick. Nothin' a bit of gauze and a bandage won’t fix.”

Patrick held his fingers to my pulse point and held my hand. “She seems to have calmed down a bit. Can ya hear me, sis?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I can hear you.”

“That’s good,” Ozzy replied, cupping my cheek. “How's the pain?”

“It doesn’t hurt.” Not compared to the other one.

Sensing the unspoken words, Patrick sighed. “I’ll go get Pete. He’ll wanna know what’s goin' on.”

“Keep him as calm as you can.”

After Patrick was gone, Jake settled into the spot he vacated, hands trembling at his sides as he scanned the new area, unsure of where to look or what to do. I carefully brushed my fingers against his and smiled up at him. “You don’t have to stay. Ozzy’s good at patching me up.”

He considered my words for a minute, finally focusing on my eyes before he shook his head. “I’ll stay. Somebody’s gotta hold your hand.”

As his fingers wrapped around mine, I laughed, soft and weak and entirely too vulnerable. “I appreciate it, tough guy.”

Ozzy quietly bandaged the cut on my neck, though I caught his smirking glances at Jake as he held my hand and made small talk. It was only once Peter came rushing into the bar that Jake said goodnight and excused himself to make way for my very worried older brother. It took some convincing, but eventually, my little family had calmed down. Ozzy closed the bar down while Prue and Quinn fussed over me for a while before they, too, filtered out. Patrick and Peter led me out of the alleyway, pausing tensely as they came face to face with Dom. 

They both waited for me to tell them how to react. “You two head upstairs.”

“You sure?” Peter asked, glancing back at me.

I nodded. “I’ll be right up.”

We both stood, waiting until my brothers were out of earshot before Dom cleared his throat and sighed. “I ain’t gonna apologize for beatin' the fucker. But I’m sorry about making you relive that shit. I… I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“It… It’s okay.” I shrugged. “It wasn’t as bad this time.”

Dom knew what I was referring to, an old incident in a drug den I used to frequent. I could hardly look at him after that, and it took months to get back to where we were. “I don’t ever want you to be scared of me again.” I could see tears building in his eyes. “I would never hurt you, Lena.”

I stepped forward, carefully reaching out to grab his hands. “I know. Will you stay tonight? Just in case?”

“Of course,” he replied, slowly pulling me into a hug.

Upstairs my brothers had gotten everything ready for a sleepover in my room. Dom settled on the couch, insisting on being in the main area by the door while my brothers and I cuddled together in my bed. Any other instance of an attack like that would have shaken me to my core… would have made it impossible for me to even talk for days after. Tonight had been scary, too familiar, but ultimately different. I wasn’t afraid like I had been in the past. I wasn’t panicked and flighty. I knew I was safe. And with that knowledge nestled in my mind, I easily drifted off to sleep.

Maybe I was getting better. And maybe I liked the idea of no longer living my life in fear.

[gaminedyke]

fam new episode thoughts under cut (spoilers)

i don't. Care about ed. go back to margo

my girl. yes. ohh my god she's part of the conversation again even though she's not really. she's got a voice.

also i Know someone's gonna write a fic about the earpiece. huge day for old woman yuri enjoyers

JHHFDKGHJ margo being like. wondering whether to interrupt and then. "i said 35 years actually" reminds me of season one margo <3

loving this aleida and margo dynamic even through the earpiece. they are so similar

why is this a comedy now

YES THEY WORK TOGETHER. this is like when she said she's only work with sergei. speaking of, i miss him. bring back that old man

OH SHOOOOOT THEY'RE MEETING. aleida please do not kill her

where is she. what happened

oh. ohh. the hug i am not well. them :( tv show please don't make me cry. MARGO'S FACE. HER SMILE. HELP MEEEEE

something something margo and physical touch anyway i'm bouncing off the WALLS

this is a damn good episode of television. they are both so messed up

single one good thing that ed has said. rare ed baldwin w. unionize

what do i even do after that. staring at the walls hellooooo insane episode

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

OKAY BABE HERE ARE SOME UNHINGED ASKS. Starling. Tell me about it. Is there a scene that shines like the starling's wing?

THIS FIC IS MY BABY. this is my "Steph goes through some stuff and takes on a new mantle outside of anyone else's legacy including her own" fic. this is my darling (hah — starling? darling? hehe) my beloved it touches on Steph's relationships with every other member of the fam and one of my favorite things is Steph and Damian, so —

Steph didn't do sleepovers much as a kid. Most of her school friends lived in the same poor area she did and they often had shitty family situations and so- sleepovers, or getting together at people's homes, wasn't really a thing. The few times Stephanie had spent the night at someone else's place, though, she found that she was usually the first person awake.

She's not a tremendous night owl, is the thing — oh, she handles nightlife just fine, working through the night as Spoiler-Robin-Batgirl, but in her own free time? She prefers getting up early to staying up late, the opposite of both Tim and Cass. So even when she stays up late into the night, like last night sleeping over with Cass, she tends to get up early.

Which is why she's now alone in the kitchen at the Manor, hunting around for something to snack on while she tries to define herself in a visual way — aka, Pinterest boarding for new costume and/or identity ideas. Her dad is dead, so Spoiler is a thing of the past. Robin was... never meant to last, not for her. And the Batgirl mantle has never sat right on her shoulders. It's a question of what she wants to convey, visually speaking, as much as it is a question of who she is. She pulls a box of trail mix bars from a cabinet and picks through to find a yogurt-dipped one before retreating to a sitting room at the outside edge of the house.

There's sunlight here, streaming in brightly through the tall filigreed windows onto plush velvet seating and soft cream colored carpet that her feet sink into almost like sand. Steph sits down in one of the chairs and pulls the tablet from underneath her arm, tapping in her security code before pausing to open her granola bar. She loses herself in the unusually mindful scroll for a while, idly enjoying the quiet stillness of the huge house before anyone else is up. If mornings here are like this, she thinks she might need to stay over more.

She lifts her head from the thumbnails of violet fabrics and combat boots to stare out one of the windows. It looks out on the garden, filled with light and growth. This room must not be used as much as others, because there's a thin layer of constantly-moving dust in the air, shimmering in the clear beams of morning light.

There's a sound of movement at the entrance to the room and Steph jolts from her reverie to see Damian standing there, arms crossed over a Nightwing-themed t-shirt and cardigan she's pretty sure was stolen from Tim's closet. "'Morning, little bat," she greets cheerfully. Usually, Dami moves silently, even on the creakiest of floors; he must either have meant to alert her to his presence, or else is far more at ease than normal.

"I didn't realize anyone else was awake yet," Damian says, confirming the latter of Steph's suspicions. "Good morning, Stephanie." He looks quizzically at her, then at the tablet in her lap. "What are you working on?"

Steph gestures him over. "Trying to figure out where I'm going next. I can't go back to Batgirl," she says. "I need to try something new." A fresh start, she thinks, and if anyone can understand that, it's Damian. It shows on his face, too, the childish enthusiasm he so rarely shows lighting up in his eyes as he glances over her screen, scattered ideas and plans laid out across it.

"Yes, I knew you were exploring new options in your vigilante career," he says, then fixes her with an intense, almost excited look that makes her want a camera, because Damian looks his age and she thinks it's precious. "Do you know European starlings?" He asks.

"Can't say I know any personally, no," Steph says, probably too deadpan considering that Damian is an animal-loving little nerd who might actually have made friends with the birds in question. "But yeah, the crazy little guys that fly in huge flocks. They're everywhere."

Damian nods, ignoring her joke. He reaches for her tablet, pauses to look to her for permission. "Be my guest," she says, scooting over in the huge chair. "Come on, plenty of space. Your artistic eye might help," she adds, watching him quietly preen as he moves to sit beside her.

Dami taps at the search bar on the screen, pulling up a series of pictures showing small birds that look like they've been painted by someone practicing their pointillism. "European starlings are known for flying in murmurations," he explains, "But even on their own they're quite striking." He turns the screen toward her, zooms in on the picture of a bird, seemingly-gold-tipped feathers fluffed out to show a film of shimmering jewel tone colors lighting up the black plumage. It looks, primarily, purple, with holographic blues and greens swirled in.

Steph stares at the picture, then at Damian. "That's a real bird," she says doubtfully. "Not computer generated or retouched?"

Damian nods sagely. "Look," he says, scrolling past countless more pictures of birds with the same color scheme, understated-yet-bright jewel tones, tipped with lighter spots at the edges. Steph can feel her face lighting up as she considers the possibilities of shimmering through the night.

"Dami," she says, grinning, "You might be a genius."

"Well, of course," he says haughtily in reply, but falters. "I could... draft some suit designs, if you like," he offers, a touch tentative.

Steph ruffles his hair. "I would love that."

[3milesup]

oh gosh, i just saw the first two episodes of succession and wtf, it's so well done, it totally sucked me in... a bunch of disgusting, hollow macchiavellians that have trauma written all over their punchably arrogant faces?! yeeah, i live for that... no, seriously, i am very intrigued. by roman whose zero-fucks-given attitude speaks to my soul in a somber tone because it yells poor coping and inner void, by shiv because when smart women get manipulative, they can outmanipulate anyone and she is damn smart, and by kendall just so fucking eager to prove himself but i- as for now- can't really see the CEO material; yes he's got a plotting mind, a modernising vision, and is ruthless to an extent but he looks too... insecure underneath it (then again, i've seen next to nothing of the show but he gives me a strong vibe of a little boy lost in a big world, he wants to play with the adults so bad but sorry hun, you're not quite there yet, watch and learn...), and by greg who might be a hirsch but he totally is a roy because he has no moral compass whatsoever and i feel like he's going to fit in with his fam...

oh. so many feelings about this. plus the opening credits?!!? mesmerising, to say the least. the theme has such a wistful touch of nostalgia, it struck me as an amusement-park-like tune before i even knew they had anything to do at all with the parks.. maybe it is just me, that it reminds me of something i don't even remember, related to circus or lunaparks.. but it definitely gives off the vibe of lost childhood, lost innocence, i could write an essay only about the intro but this has gotten annoyingly long already so i better cut off the gushing and actually watch the show to have something of substance to say... just wanted to share the excitement^^ because i rarely see something that clutches at my very heart like this on so many levels...

[neonhairspray]

It's rare for me to wake up & feel content, almost happy (not being dramatic, just stating the facts). This morning tho was one of the pleasant ones, making me feel all soft and smiley inside.

It was all because of a dream that I (once again) do not remember very well, but it made an impact on me. I was with a group of people that called themselves "a fam", but they were not related by blood and I think they were just a tight circle of colleagues. We walked outside, looking at those old seaside town houses that you would often find here in European countries. I remeber some girls being in that group, we chatted & they were just really nice to be around. I also know Mark and Arnas was there (welcome to my dreams, guys! lol) & Tom (a. k. a. Aegon) as well. We actually joked with him a lot & he was so fun! However, there was another person whose presence was so warm and welcoming... yes, it was Ewan. I don't remember talking with him that much, but he was always in my orbit. It felt like he was quietly observing me, not in a creepy way of course. Also whenever we'd come close to each other we'd share subtle touches like resting hands on mine/his back, caressing hands, exchanging shy smiles.

In fact that's what I remember the most: both of us being a bit shy & yet not being able to stay away from each other for a long time. The group then came back to one of those houses & evening sun was shining nicely from big windows. I remeber talking with the girls again & seeing Tom talking to Ewan in the corner of a room (that was joined with a small kitchen). Somehow I venture towards Ewan while Tom excused himself and we talked a bit, both him and me blushing a bit. He then somehow grew bolder and said something like "I hope you are free this Firday, because I'd love to go to see that new play with you.." to which I blushed even more whereas his boldness evaporated just as fast. I actually couldn't believe that he's asking me out, that maybe he likes me. So I smiled and said" Yes, of course". His smile was so sweet, I just... He gifted me one of those lovely smiles I've only seen in sone gifs and my heart was melting at the sight. He said he'd come and pick me up and softly caressed my cheek.

Last thing I remember is Tom silently telling him "You did it, mate! Told you she likes you, you shouldn't have worried that much"

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Don’t Let Her Pass You By

Taking a break from finishing my Rhaenicent fic to write this missing scene, as I wanted an interaction between Yaz and Ace before the Doctor woke up.

Rated: G Relationships: Thasmin-focused, Ace & Seven’s platonic bond touched upon, and Yaz chats with another queer companion (screw you, Chibnall). Lots of pining, might do a follow up where something actually happens, I just felt a need to write this conversation first.

“It don’t look much like Sydney to me!” Tegan huffs after opening the doors.

Yaz squints at the controls; “No, I’m certain I got it right, we should be right in the centre of-.”

“Croyden.” Kate confirms.

Ah. Right. She must have been a few inches off with the location dial. 

“Close enough?” She says, sheepishly, feeling the glaring eyes of the former air hostess on her.

Tegan shakes her head; “I can tell exactly who taught you to fly this thing. It’s quicker getting a fourteen hour flight home than it is hoping the TARDIS will get you where you wanna go.”

“Lay off, will ya. It’s better than any of us could have done.” Ace, at least, jumps to her defense.

Thank you, Yaz says with her eyes alone and a sly smile. It’s not easy having to aim for one little dot in the Universe at the right time. She indulged herself in a moment of pride; she hadn’t managed to materialize them on one of Saturn’s rings or the edge of a black hole. And the year was right, they hardly needed to arrive at the same time the Luftwaffe happened to be flying overhead, not with everything they’d just been through.

She glances over to where the Doctor lays, far too silent for her, even in sleep. Yaz had seen...had shared too many moments watching her friend slumber to know how regular she snored, what she was likely to mumble, nonsense about fish fingers and custard or looking for the daisiest daisy. Yaz loved to watch, loved to lay beside her in those rare moments of intimacy where the Doctor beckoned her close for company, in the small hours between adventures. She could listen to that bizarre alien babbling for hours until sleep finally took her as well.

The Doctor hasn’t let out so much as a murmur since she fell unconscious, surrounded by her ‘extended fam’, as she’d called them.

The same fam who were now making their departures. Kate Stewart is the first to depart, giving a respectul nod - a soldier’s nod - to both Yaz and the sleeping Time Lord. Graham and Tegan linger for a moment, pulled back with concern heavy on their faces, before Yaz assures them that the Doctor will be fine. And that she’ll stay with her...Come what may.

“Coming, Ace?” Tegan asks the woman in the crazy jacket with the bat.

Ace looks from the Doctor to Yaz, then to her Aussie friend; “Gimmie ten minutes?”

The others nod and leave, after another goodbye hug between Graham and Yaz, along with a request to send her love along to Ryan, and a kick up the arse for not being here. Kate has one more glance of bewilderment around the TARDIS before she makes her way through the doors.

Yaz watches as Ace goes to sit beside the Doctor’s head, the brovado having seemed to soften. Regret? Grief? She wants to ask, she wants to know what it was that this woman and the Doctor...Her Doctor had...And why it ended. Why it had to end. But that’s not her business, no more than what she has with her Doctor is with anyone elses...

We used to be you.

Tegan had been so angry. Would Yaz be the same, when it was time for her to leave? Would she not see the Doctor again until she was decades older and she...or he or they...were with someone new? Someone who took Yaz’s place in her hearts?

“I think that blast did more than knock you on your backside this time, Professor.” Ace whispers.

Yaz agrees, though she doesn’t say as much. This time? 

“Why d’you call her ‘Professor’?” Damn it, Yaz, she immediately chastises herself for prying.

But Ace just smirks; “Because he told me not to.”

Yaz laughs. Fair enough; that was all she needed to let her know what kind of bond those two had. 

“You’re well lucky. You got the prettiest Doctor. You know it too, don’t ya.” Ace gives her a wink; “I mean, not that I’ve seen a lot of the others, but just compared to mine. Feels so weird looking at them now...Do you think she’ll go back to being a bloke?”

The shy giddiness that had begun to swell inside of her at Ace seeming to notice what the others probably hadn’t is suddenly beaten down with that final question. Heat rises in her neck, fingers clench against the console.

“No. Not yet, anyway, she’s not gonna change...”

“Yaz. C’mon-.” Ace tilts her head, as if she’s talking to a small kid. It only makes things worse. Yaz is tempted to hit the controls and transport them to that black hole just to shut her up.

“I’ve seen her live through worse, all right!” She protests, blinking back the salt water; “We’ve both been through worse and...If she’s sick or hurt then I’ll take her some place, or maybe Kate has people at UNIT who can...”

Without having heard her cross the room, Ace touches her arm.

“Cor, you really love her, don’t you?” She says, “I mean I could see you fancied the pants off each other but...”

Yaz sniffs, “We’re not...It’s complicated.”

“With the Doctor, I wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

A tinkling noise echoes from the centre of the console, as if the TARDIS were chuckling along with the conversation. Yaz thinks of all the times she’d heard the Doctor call her ship by pet names, ‘dear’ and ‘sweetheart’, as if it were as much a love interest than Yaz could ever be. 

“Have you told her? How you really feel?” Ace asks.

Yaz thinks back to their moment on the beach. Everything and nothing being confessed, then swept away with the thrashing waves.

“We’ve...talked...Nothing really came off it. She doesn’t really do feelings, not my Doctor anyway.”

“Mine could be crap like that too. Great at manipulating them when he needed though...” Ace folds her arms, leaning against the console. She frowns at the Doctor for a moment before continuing; “I got so angry with him. I said...horrible, horrible things before I left...And all the time I just kept wishing he would beg me to stay. That he would do more than just apologise and explain himself, make it seem like it was all for the ‘greater good’...I wanted him to care how much I was hurt...And maybe he was but I knew he’d still be the same old Doctor and what I wanted was...I dunno, a dad. A best friend. Cool teacher. Weird uncle. Just...the family I never had, that I could trust. Then I realised it was just him. The Doctor is the Doctor and...I missed him so much, Yaz...”

She doesn’t know what to say as the older woman lays her heart out in the open. Could she say that she knows the Doctor missed her too? She would like to hope that was true, but then it’s not like she had ever heard the Doctor speak of others who had travelled with her before her, Ryan and Graham. Not more than just passing references to how dangerous travelling with her could be.

“I know why he didn’t ask me to stay...He wanted me to go my own way. It was my time. I guess they’ve been through enough of us to know when it’s time for it to end...But I still remember the look on his face. He never cried, my Doctor, but...I could see his hearts breaking. And I hated myself for leaving it like that.” Ace confesses; “...Whatever still needs to be said...or more...between the two of you...I think you’d best do it soon. Don’t do the whole thirty years of being a moody cow like I did.”

“Oh c’mon, from what I’ve heard, you’re like the CEO of this amazing charity that’s saved homeless kids around the world! I’d call that doing more than just being a moody cow.” Yaz can at least give her that, she’d heard of A Charitable Earth even as a teenager. She hadn’t expected its founder to be...well, a walking 80s time capsule.

The other woman shrugs; “Yeah...m’pretty cool after all. And I’ve got my own life, my own adventures, gorgeous girlfriend of my own...See? There is life beyond the Doctor.”

“I know...But I want my life with her. I want it to be forever.”

It hits her then. The truth of it, as she looks over at where the Doctor remains still, head on the pillow Yaz had grabbed from her own room. What will happen to her bedroom in the TARDIS after she’s gone? Does the Doctor keep them all locked away, sealed up as sacred shrines? Or do they get recycled and reused for the next one? Is it worth leaving anything here as a memento? The crushing sadness comes down in force again as she finds she’s already preparing herself, mentally, to leave. To leave her...

Ace’s fingers wrap around her wrist, giving a comforting squeeze.

“I’ve been there, love. Part of me would still go away with her in a heartbeat if she asked...And I dunno, maybe I’m talking complete tosh, and maybe she’ll be fine and...You and her can have another hundred years of travelling together...But you know it will happen, eventually. If you don’t leave first then she’ll...”

“Change.” She can’t say ‘die’. She won’t.

Ace takes a breath; “I remember the day word got to me...about a police box turning up in the middle of New York...and a man in strange clothes being shot down in the middle of some random gang war...I thought ‘nah, that couldn’t be him. Not my professor, he’d be prepared for something like that’...But he hadn’t. Stupid git. Then I had something else to be angry for...’Cause I would’ve protected him...”

“You’d have taken on a bunch of armed street kids...with a bat?”

“I’ve taken on Daleks with this thing, I could easily beat down a few jumped up yobs.” She brags with a grin; “I know I’d have saved him...Just like you saved yours...That felt good to watch...I’m glad she’s got you, Yaz. For however long that is.”

As long as can be. Until the stars burn out and time falls apart at the seams. She’ll live in the delusion that such a thing could be possible, until the Doctor wakes. If she wakes. Perhaps Yaz will remain here for years, keeping watch over Sleeping Beauty, only with a far more dull and depressing end to this fairy tale. 

Ace squeezes her hand again before pulling away.

“I better go join the others before Tegan starts shouting for me. Mouth on legs, that one.” She walks over to the Doctor and kneels beside her.

Yaz watches, silently, as Ace runs her hand over the Doctor’s hair, smiling at her.

“Better not be another thirty years before I see you again...Pretty sod.” Her voice cracks. She places a kiss on the Doctor’s forehead, quick and soft, a surprising show of tenderness.

Ace stands, looks back to Yaz.

“You come find me if you need me.” She nods; “Laters.”

Yaz smiles, her stomach clenching; “Laters...And thanks...”

The older woman walks with the swagger of a headstrong teenager as she takes her bat and her heavy rucksack, and walks out through the doors, leaving Yaz alone with her Doctor. 

Just the two of them again, as it had been in that brief period between leaving Graham and Ryan and meeting Dan. The two of them and the whole Universe laid at their feet. It had felt like they had explored a trillion galaxies and yet barely moved from where they had dematerialised. She knew she was a different person to the fresh young cop the Doctor had almost landed on in that train all those years ago (for starters, she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a police badge again). But she felt as though she had only just began to sprout into who she truly was.

The Doctor had been her source of her light, her oxygen, her water and nourishment for all this time. Just the thought of growing on, without her, made her want to fall to her knees. 

A tiny moan, weak as a hurt kitten, is what strengthens her.

“Y’...az...”

Yaz rushes to the Doctor’s side as she finally makes some noise, twitching and frowning. Eyes still clenched shut.

“I’m here. I’m here.” She cradles her hand in both of hers, clutching it to her chest; “Doctor, I’m here...You’re safe...We’re all safe, in the TARDIS...We’re home...”

Earth or the ship, it didn’t matter. They were together.

The distress on the Doctor’s face doesn’t fade away. But her fingers hold on tight to Yaz’s.

“F-face...Face is wet...” She murmurs, and it’s then that Yaz notices a droplet of water left on her cheek. Is it a tear of her own, or Ace’s? 

The Doctor turns her head; “...D-don’t cry...While there’s life, there’s...Pockets. Gotta have p-pockets.”

A choked up giggle leaves Yaz, and she hugs the Doctor’s hand to her. 

“Sure, Doctor. Whatever you say.” Daft, mad, brilliant Doctor.

Mixed emotions twitch on the Time Lord’s face, mind trapped in a fevered haze as her body tried to recover from that catastrophic blast. There were no visible wounds, nothing external, nothing that could be fixed by human hands...It’s whatever was going on beneath the surface terrified Yaz.

She remembers the weight of her in her arms as she’d carried her off that imploding base, how the centuries-year-old being had still clung to her, a simple human woman from Sheffield, as if everything depended on her. The person who, most of the time, shone magnificently, like the brightest star in the galaxy that the Doctor had taken her to see go supernova for her birthday.

The Doctor had clung to her the same way she reaches out for her now, afraid and hurt, seeming so small now the monsters have been defeated.

“Please...Please don’t go yet...Not yet, Yaz...My Yaz...” The Doctor whimpers, trembling slightly.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Yaz promises, reaching to stroke her hair, “Just sleep...I’ve got you.”

If Ace was certain she could defend her Doctor against a barrage of bullets with a bat, then she could promise to punch out the Master and anyone else who dared threaten them again.

The Doctor leans into her touch, lips curving into the smallest of serene smiles, before she drifts back off, silent and still once more. Yaz looks at her forehead, thinking of where Ace had kissed her. A kiss goodbye.

Whatever still needs to be said...or more...between the two of you.

She decides then, she won’t do twenty or more years of regret. Whatever happens, whatever comes next, as soon as the Doctor wakes...

No more running.

[arthoure]

I guess with twitter falling apart, the logical step is to move back to tumblr, but I struggle with what to even post! 

Twitter is kind of the LinkedIn of game dev, for casual networking and commiserating about the seven hells of the industry, so it made sense for me to be there to make my little jokes and yell about unions. It’s also more mobile-friendly, so I could post cat pics and be on my way without a fuss. And I always used Tumblr more for fandom meta stuff, which isn’t something I really do anymore because being a narrative designer kind of changes how you engage with fandom and meta -- it starts to feel like your day job instead of your fun hobby, at least in some senses, or it uses the same type of brain energy and at the end of work you’re depleted. And it’s weird to be able to see the seams of games, and have a sense of where their budgeting and schedules and tech restraints were, in a way that completely changes your idea of what “good” is or what something “accomplished” and doesn’t always line up with the ideas of other players. It’s not a good or a bad thing, just different. I read books differently now than I used to, too. (Part of this is also about growing older and developing new neural pathways. Weird shit.) It’s interesting to think about how fandom got me into game dev (literally; the first writing sample that got me hired was fe13 fanfic with the names changed -- but also very directly through the support of the friends who read my writing for years ((often making it better with our discussions)) and encouraged me to apply and etc.) and yet game dev is kind of what keeps me from being in fandom (at least deeply). 

So I kind of had two different networks -- the twitter one of friends plus game dev peers, and the tumblr one of friends plus fandom peers, the latter of whom followed me basically for meta/fanfic/the stuff I reblogged. But friends also keep in touch on discord or other messengers, so I often wonder, what do I even post for, and why? All I really want to post about is my life, but that’s not even really a safe thing to do, and also, why do I want to, besides being a little human who likes to leave her little proofs that she was here? Like, would it be interesting to anyone here to know that I work in AAA now and the fam and I are moving to Germany soon? That’s cool news for me, but I can’t say much of anything about my work (and even the things I am allowed to say are dangerous, lmao. Telling the internet who you work for and on what game title always makes you a target. Target is doubled for every underrepresented identity that you have. But that was a LITTLE different for me in my curated twitter bubble because again, it’s more like LinkedIn on the gamedev side, and I have a small audience so my info doesn’t leave my bubble; my bubble is also small on Tumblr but feels more unfamiliar after I’ve been inactive for so long.). AAA can carry a lot more weight in the industry but it really shouldn’t (what some other VOW writers said is true: God works hard, AAA devs work harder, but mobile romance devs work hardest of all) and tbh I don’t give a shit about commercial game size--I chose this company’s offer because its team was really special (severely anti-crunch, pro-labor rights, inclusive, brilliantly skilled in storytelling and technical design and other things I want to learn from them, kind and warm). But some of you might be happy to know that I’ll finally get real health insurance and sick days and vacation time and I can’t just be randomly laid off at any time (something European game devs enjoy that US devs often do not), and it’s a huge weight off my shoulders, because you might remember how I had to struggle with that for several years. Always so much to say but so much fear around saying it. Rare to find the points where you can view your life as Back Then and Right Now in such concrete terms. Is that worth documenting?

TL;DR I want to use social media for personal things and chatting with friends but The Internet at large makes it difficult to do that. I am of course far from the only one who feels this way. That’s just the update on me while I ponder what else to contribute to this blog! I do owe you some cat pics at least.

[navree]

I'm glad that other people noticed that Aegon is repulsed from physical interactions. And this the reason why i will never shut up about how much i hate the SA plotline that they have given to his character. I mean it's really clashes with his established characterization, and it's does make his character inconsistent.

but if I'm going to be honest i will not be mad if they actually have given him a mentality that would align with such behaviour. It will not make his character inconsistent. Book tyrion is one of my faves but let's all be honest here , book!tyrion is extremely misgonystic and an incel literally. So it didn't surprise me when he start raping sex workers in essos , thinking of raping his sister before killing her ... If the showrunners have given Aegon a similar personality/mentality to tyrion then it would make the SA plotline align with his character and nobody would be really shocked.

Very grateful that people actually agree with me that Aegon's got issues with touch and physical intimacy (if homeboy is getting blackout drunk before he can try having sex, then that's a problem that's literally self medicating) and that it wasn't just me going completely ham and talking out of my ass.

That kind of mentality that we see with Tyrion is the kind that, I think, works well in book form, but not in show form. Tyrion's misogyny, as I mentioned in an answer about my thoughts on House Lannister, can genuinely be hard for me to read, and part of the reason why some of the stuff he does and says was toned down as much as it was for the show, in spite of the problems it caused for the character, is that it would likely be harder to watch (I still don't think they should have done it, but the excuse for it isn't something completely unreasonable, just not good). And when you don't have the benefit that comes from books, narration and the character's internal voice and the time to expand on why someone feels that way, and all you can go on is what's done and said in front of you, it'd be a lot less excusable for an audience. Especially when that's how you're introducing a character, without the benefit of seeing the other facets of who they're like first.

It's also important to remember that a lot of Tyrion's issues that have made his misogyny become so outwardly expressive are borne of the fact that he is societally disadvantaged due to being a dwarf and the ableism that's followed him all his life. And while Aegon has his problems, he feels unloved and alone and is a deeply wounded person, emotionally, who needs to use substances to cope with living his life, he's got a lot of advantages and privileges in Westeros, the able bodied eldest son of the literal king. So having a Tyrion-esque mentality might not have been able to be sold quite as well.

I think what they should have done was find a middle ground, have Aegon be a drunkard who doesn't take things seriously and is irreverent and a bit of a jerk to people, but also acknowledge that a lot of that comes from the fact that he's in very real pain (and also touch repulsed), and he does still love his fam and rarely intentionally seeks to cause any serious harm, like how he was a bit of a shit to Aemond as kids, but he clearly didn't mean for it to escalate to the point where Aemond got injured, and when push came to shove immediately backed Aemond up on the Strong bastards thing. And if you wanna show how Alicent relates to a rape victim, just have Dyana's assailant be a Hightower guard, or a minor noble at court that we see Alicent berate, someone who would be in the position to do something like that but could still be yelled at by Alicent, and we'd still get that moment between women to see what she's like as both a woman and a queen.

[vio1315]

Oh right 

I keep meaning to do a life update

Because long time followers remember when I posted a lot of personal struggles on here and I like never follow up on that stuff

And have since stopped posting personal stories as often whoops

Honestly I don’t remember everything I left as a loose thread that could be ‘is she okay’ so basically:

>Yes I am okay

>Most the stuff I was having trouble with happened like 5+ years ago now

>I am still pretty shut in, but I have a good job and I do go out once a week technically

>Much more mentally stable, I don’t really get the sort of empty feelings I used to anymore

>Every day I am unsure if I am like 🤖 to other people, or if I live normally. But I have unworked a lot of the emotional repression stuff I was doing subconsciously, and have gained a capacity for the ‘feeling of love’ (since love isn’t really a feeling, but you know the feeling I mean). Idk if I never experienced it before, but if I did it was Extremely rare compared to now. I certainly had devotion, but idk

It’s like ‘oh my prayers were answered on this topic again :0 ‘

I think I am pretty content generally, but I still don’t have happy feelings or fun feelings that often on my own, but this is super normal for me and doesn’t bother me the way the ‘void feelings’ did. It just vibing

>I did get a few extra sensory issues, probably from being shut in, but nothing that makes it any harder to go out. I should go out more still, but not many ideas of where to go for now

>I lost touch with the rest of my rl friends more or less (ﾟ⊿ﾟ) I went through a big thing of making myself not burn bridges and then like 4 months later they stopped contacting me anyways. I haven’t really felt any issue about it so have been leaving it be, but I guess I’ll crack that case back open if it ever starts to feel like a big thing that needs to be done

>My family is doing pretty well : ) 

>Story stuuffffff. I went through about a year of work to make my to do list better, so now I can focus on writing, sort of. And hopefully I can finish my script for TTF in good time now after the Big Delay of relaying the foundation and needing to get life in order. It will take a Long time because I insist on doing all 10 arcs before starting to draw it, so like... I still am mostly gonna be quiet on the topic for awhile

>Life plans? Nope, never. I still live very in the present, so I will just continue my job till I get fired probably and try my best to keep using my free time well. Or start

>Nobody wonders about this but I swear to you, vitamins/supplements make me sick every time I take them. Like literally sick. Like with germs and things. How????? How???? They had nothing in common between the three diff supplements, but each time I started I would get sick for like 2 weeks or a month ??? But I will keep trying to see if this is actually happening because ??? How ????

>Oh yeah, I am trying to get my health better and actually gained much weight 🥳 maybe someday exercise too, but I wanna tighten daily schedule first

>I am looking at some other mental disorders where I think ‘do I have that???’ But just for the sake of communication. I still don’t really need medication to manage the strange stuff. Coping mechanisms generally work pretty good for me, and learning to weed out bad ones and so on. I haven’t felt ANXIOUS in a bit now, and idk maybe not as often. I know I was like a year or two ago, but it goes down every year overall.

Lots of things that used to make me anxious just don’t so much anymore

That’s everything I can really think of right now

Life is basically good overall for me. 

Health is good for me, though I still need to work on actually doing things to be good to my body.

Socializing is pretty good in the forms I do it, but I still need to go out more to prevent my brain from getting weird about ‘sounds and feelings I can’t control’ and all

Fam : ) 

Everything is chill actually. I basically vent here less now just because I have more opportunity to vent directly to people when there’s a need to wjdnejd but I don’t think anything major comes up that often

But also my emotional memory is really low hwjdnwjd like I know for a fact a year or two ago there was a month where I was super unwell and stressed, but legit idk what that felt like, I just know it happened

So maybe the frequency Could be similar, but I wouldn’t know it 🤔 but certainly less major events happen, and that’s good with me

Just an update cuz I realize it’s easy to vent and all, but when things resolve, it’s less interesting to talk about, so you leave people hanging unintentionally, since posting directly on here barely feels like talking to anyone anyways, super easy to let that go

I am not a private person honestly, so hope this doesn’t seem weird to anyone widjsjdn

[the-good-projxct]

Feb 28th, 2024

10:11 pm. I am upstairs in Karen. Listening to Mapa’s Mother Africa. This song is fire. 

I am obsessed. I found it to post on my stories and it's just…chef’s kiss. It’s an instrumental btw. I had such a nice, wholesome, chill and vibey day. Like this is what I hoped for when I said I was coming home to lounge and chill. I was up mad early today, 7am I was up and at it. I video chatted with Zaneta, called Munene, and texted with my mom. I posted on IG. I went downstairs around noon and ate some rice with pili pili. I had some tea. Then I went and got my book and my agenda. I organized my agenda because I hadn’t touched it since a few days before I left PEI. I sat with the elders Karimi and Moka wa Mwiti. We chatted, vibed, and laughed. I played with baby Jason Mwenda. It started raining heavily which made the day get cooler, so we bundled up and went inside. Amirah and Chanel called me to catch up but also because weuh. Being Black in America is a wild box to be in. Like anyone and everyone is tryna stake their claim on Blackness without actually experiencing Blackness. I am so glad I am away from alladat. My phone battery died so I left my phone upstairs and the power went out. I got a blanket and laid on the couch and everyone was in the living room with a fire going. We just chilled like that for hours. It was sooooo nice. We were joking, laughing, jabs, history, present, dreams and just relationship building via time. I had such a lovely time just being with my people. I kept thinking that this is what I wanted. This is what I hoped for. And here I am. At supper time, we had cowpeas. It was pretty Good. With cabbage and potatoes. I didn’t know that cow peas make me bloated so my belly is pretty swollen and sore right now. It is what it is. SweSwe came home a bit later than I expected and when she got here I was upstairs in the shower. I went down with a shiny oiled up face to say hi to her and we had a laugh at how freshly showered I looked. She was upset today, I felt sad for her. Like she is quite old and experiencing really unusual behavior from her own family. I would say most people around her are leeches, just waiting for what they can take, rarely offering her something. Anyway, she was stranded at the physio clinic today and the people responsible to get her home were not answering the phone. I dunno fam, if I had a car and could drive, I would take her and wait right there in the clinic. I did it in Canada. But all these “family” members are blood family but they just leech off of her dawg. And it breaks my heart because she deserves better. At the end of the day, many of the ones leeching are her own children and grandchildren so I cannot get involved. All I want from her and for her is time with me. And I want this really cool photo of her that hangs in the hallways. That is all I ever want. The rest is time. Just time to be together. On this journey of sobriety and seeking Gøod. I know God and the Universe are with me and for me so I will never lack. I can and will continue to build myself up, I don’t need to leech off of an 86 year old woman. All in all, I really enjoyed today. I am going to finish this daily writing then do my meditation and talk to Munene for a little bit. I am learning to let go and let God.  I struggle with romantic love. Platonic and familial I am so confident in. Romantic, I have trust issues dawg. But we healing. So here, I trust & dive in.  I deserve all the Love. Love is Gøod. Life is Gøod. Ase. Ase.

[nirikeehan]

For Thalia! 🎶🤍🤔

HI FAM THANKS

Questions here

🎶 MUSICAL NOTES — what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

Thalia loves romantic ballads, like in the medieval sense – epic tales of knights and dragons and heroes and all that. Maybe also some love stories. Forbidden love is a favorite trope of hers. 👀

I think she also enjoys song tavern rounds and sea shanties, though the really raunchy ones make her blush. Right, Samson

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

THE BLEEDING HEART. Yeah, we know she's notorious for loving red flags. But what does that really mean? Is it really that bad? I think it's that she has compassion for the downtrodden and people who aren't making optimal choices in life. Does this open her up to being taken advantage of? Absolutely. But is it universally a bad thing that she does it, or is it that she's surrounded by jaded cynics who don't want to trust anyone as far as they can throw them? (Looking at you, Pravin.)

She's kind of an entitled snob. That aristocratic upbringing hasn't gone anywhere. She expects servants to come clean up after her and draw her a bath, etc. While she has empathy for people in lower rungs of society, she rarely challenges herself to think of reorganizing social orders unless it directly benefits her (getting rid of the Mage Circles, for instance). I don't think she believes in democracy either, just that common folk should be ruled fairly by a benevolent overlord — namely, her!

Her religious trauma manifests in super annoying ways. I'm actually writing about this right now in It's Never Sunny in Barovia. She is grappling with the fact that those around her are people of faith but her hangups about it make her kind of obnoxious and may actually hinder her. For instance, she her refusal to meet a priest on his own terms might have cost her crucial information about what precautions could be taken against undead creatures like vampires.

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

She bites her lip when unsure a lot.

When she's thinking about past trauma at the Circle, she will often subconscious touch her tattoo, even though she can't feel it.

She likes being able to style her own hair; the elaborate braids are mostly done on her own. She got into this habit in the Circle where she was no longer provided a servant to help her dress, but still wanted to look like a proper lady.

She prefers trousers to dresses, which is wild, I know, since I am feral about art of her in dresses.

[clochanamarc]

aisling gets a birthday smooch from jill along with a personalized recipe book with the front reading "Aisling's recipes" on the front and her initials on the spine so she can write down all her amazing recipes in case she wants to pass them down at one point. jami has gotten - don't ask her where or how - them matching bangles that function much like these rings. when opened/unfolded, it allows them to communicate with each other no matter where in the universe the other might be so they can stay connected when one of them is out and about. also a big fat hug from her. harley has updated some of the electronics around the house and offers to install an AI in case that's something her and the fam would want. he also brought self-made cake, having used some advice she'd given him a while ago. sav helped set up the party for aisling and WILL keep everyone in line and clean up the house afterwards. as gift, she brought a couple of rare houseplants to add to aisling's collection. all of them wish her the happiest of birthdays <3333

it was aisling's birthday yesterday!! (but i fell asleep so i'm gonna be answering these for a WHILE!) ( ACCEPTING! )

aisling immediately adores the recipe book. the kiss is dangerously close to beating it, but she can kiss and be kissed by jill for the rest of their lives. the recipe book is stunning, and perhaps her more profound joy is that she's able to read the words on the front. each day, she continues the lessons, focusing on food and cookery terms, until she's able to write her very first recipe into the book in careful, painstakingly even block capitals: the recipe for perfect fluffy scrambled eggs.

she knows better than to ask jami questions like "how". so rather than waste her time, she attaches one of the bangles to her wrist, gives the girl a big kiss on the top of her head, and fixes up a very sweet birthday cake breakfast sundae for the both of them. it isn't until a week later, when the bracelet begins to shiver on her wrist, that aisling removes it and learns the true function. it's definitely the best gift one can get when they have a daughter/friend flying around the universe!

the malfunctioning toaster and the volatile airfryer are updated to glorious new heights. any fears of scorching a round of french toast are erased, and while she's initially refusing the offer of an AI, eli and advik spend the best part of the day begging her to reconsider. she compromises. but only if the AI is a nice one. she still harbors some caution in the aftermath of the ultron incident. her delight over the upgraded electronics is immense, though! and to say nothing of how proud and touched she is over the cake that they divide and eat with great elation.

the plants are enough to make victor declare a vow of allegiance to sav. aisling feels similarly, and you best believe that the plants and the party are celebrated and praised with great enthusiasm! decked out in her bracelet from jami, and harley's cake taking center stage on the food table, and jill's recipe book is displayed with great pride on the bookshelf, where many guests admire it and request numerous recipes for aisling to transcribe. at the end of the night, aisling gives sav a huge hug, and nate walks her home, because that internal gentleman is emerging a lot more since he met her.