#I hope there's no copyright strike or whatsoever

[neo-zone]

There are total three major possession scenes of Bong-gil in the movie, but this one, this one creeped me out the most. Shout out to Lee Do-hyun's top tier level of acting

[quillyfied]

Hellaverse Theories: Hazbin Hotel S1E1

Welcome to Quilly’s Hellaverse Theories, where I overthink the entire Hellaverse and probably get a lot wrong because I am still a brand-new fan and don’t have a lot of past context outside of the shows themselves! Tbh I'm not sure that I'm too interested in getting bogged down in a lot of information that isn't useful to analyzing the shows as they are now, but a few of you lovelies said you'd like to hear my thoughts, so let's get started! (I attempted to have this in a bulleted list but I think Tumblr counts a bulleted list as a single text block and...wow they do not like it when you exceed that text block character limit and buddies I EXCEEDED IT.)

Okay, starting with Hazbin Hotel s1e1:

The first thing that immediately strikes me is Charlie’s story: it’s an immediate tip-off that the background information we’re receiving is not the entire story, but a watered-down child’s story version putting Charlie right at the center (no moral judgement, she’s the main character and allowed to be the main character about it). There are many hints later on from Lucifer and Sera that Charlie (and Emily, but I’ll talk more about her when I get to her episode) doesn’t know the whole story, but right from the get-go we the audience should know that this isn’t all the information. It’s all the RELEVANT information, told from a certain point of view, and it’s valuable worldbuilding and background-setting, but it isn’t all the lore. Why would it be? We can’t handle the lore. This is the first two minutes at most.

Forty-seven seconds in, we’re set up with a simple and familiar dichotomy: there is a Heaven, and it worships Good and shuns Evil. Cool. Familiar narrative territory, what with pervasive cultural Christianity. My first theory that I’d bet real money on: that’s Roo, the dark shadowy figure representing evil. She’s never mentioned by name in Hazbin Hotel (though she has been in Helluva Boss, once during the first episode in a blink-and-you-miss-it exchange where Martha is waxing eloquent about sacrificing IMP to Satan and hoping her offering will continue to grow the Root of Evil).

I came across her name in passing on a tumblr post, and when I looked her up, I was delighted to learn that we know next to nothing about her whatsoever. Since Hazbin Hotel is the show with the large cosmic stakes, she’s probably going to pop up in HH first, if she ever does in HB. And assuming HH and HB are still allowed to be part of the same universe, what with copyright law being what it is and my complete lack of knowledge about what happens when an indie studio makes one show on their own and partners with a major streaming service for the other.

The appearance of the two figures representing Good and Evil, whoever they are (if anyone), is also super important for setting up the basic dichotomy to be challenged: if there is a Root of Evil, there must be a powerful force of Good to oppose it. And it clearly isn’t the angels. They’re introduced as subservient to it, but not embodying it. It’s fascinating too that God is never mentioned in either show except as an expletive; if God is Good, then maybe the figure representing Good is also God, but that’s more an errant thought, since in familiar Christian mythology, Satan is supposed to be the ultimate evil, and that is clearly not his position in the Hellaverse. Same goes for Lucifer.

These embodied higher concepts might even be eldritch in the sense that they are too big and unknowable for the rest of the cast, though if this is Roo we’re seeing, she has some very interesting visual similarities to Eve.

(Just want to point out too that Good has its eyes closed, while Evil has its eyes open; now it just makes me wonder if Good is something more fragile and childlike, something to be protected, and I think a later episode will support this hypothesis, but more when I get there.)

Also Hell being Lucifer’s attempt at creating his own universe and it’s a CIRCUS. IT IS A CIRCUS. HE MADE A CIRCUS. A *CIRCUS*. The recurring circus motifs in the Hellaverse are fascinating, but I am wondering if there’s a deeper metaphor in there or if Viv just really likes the aesthetics.

Also I just realized that it’s an instrumental version of “More Than Anything” that’s playing during Lucifer and Lilith finding each other and then giving Eve the apple and I want to curl up in a ball.

Okay, here: Evil finding its way into Earth uses a very specific sort of motif. Almost…tree-like. Or perhaps even…root-like??? And I am so desperate to know the mechanics of this: how was Roo kept out from the angels’ pet project universe? If God isn’t here or at least isn’t important, who put the Tree of Knowledge there? Evil finding a door in through Knowledge—and thus Free Will—is one thing, but Evil’s introduction to Heaven’s perfect universe and THAT being what creates Hell feels…incomplete. We don’t have all the information, for a variety of very frustrating Watsonian and Doylist reasons that infuriate me.

We don’t know where the Sins came from, because Hell as it exists in HH and as it exists in HB are two very different Hells, despite being possibly the same. HH Hell is finite, cramped, and small, meant more to be as one side of a two-sided cosmic conflict. HB Hell is vast, colorful, and complex, a stage on which to play out character arcs and explore the environment. HH Hell isn’t the Pride Ring; it’s just Hell. There’s no need to mention any mechanic about sinners being unable to leave Pride, because it’s such basic knowledge that even acknowledging the rest of Hell doesn’t make sense, since sinners can’t visit it anyway. It’s as out of reach to them as Earth and Heaven.

But the seven-ring structure of Hell still shows up in the background of Hazbin Hotel, although whether that’s an easter egg for devoted Hellaverse fans or a real element of the world remains to be seen. And the Doylist reason for this outside of copyright whosiwhatsit is very simple: Charlie’s categorically insane plan to redeem sinners makes less sense when the option to figure out how to let sinners expand into the rest of a sprawling Hell is just as impossible but probably more sensible, since it doesn’t require provoking a proven genocidal tormentor (Heaven).

(Okay not to say that the other denizens of Hell would be any more welcoming and less genocidal but there’s a possibility of maybe working it out easier…though the first beings on the chopping block to make room if sinners start flooding other rings are imps and hellhounds, who are already on the bottom rungs of Hellish society and truly cannot survive outside of Hell or have a shot at redemption to relocate to Heaven, since they presumably don’t have souls that can undergo such a change. Though. Y’know. Soul as a mechanic versus soul as a metaphor are two very different things.)

(Also, y’know how Lucifer is called the King of Hell in HH but because of term differences across the Hellaverse shows, we really have no idea if he’s the King of All of Hell or just the King of Pride? Though either way, it’s my fervent belief that Lucifer himself can’t leave Pride either. Being forced to watch the sinners destroy themselves is his eternal punishment. He’s powerful, but I’m not sure it’s just crippling depression keeping him locked in his ducky room.)

Anyway it’s been thirty minutes of typing and I’m still less than two minutes into the first episode. Let’s crack on.

Okay, here: Lucifer has clearly been a broken person since the start of Hell and its apparent purpose. Hell was called the pit that he and Lilith created—but did they create it, or did their actions allow it to manifest? There’s a difference. But the cracks in their partnership are already starting to show from Lucifer’s despondency and Lilith stepping up and thriving in this new environment. And again, will talk more about this later, but the nature of Lilith and Adam’s afterlives are incredibly unique for what we know about the mechanics of Heaven and Hell in HH, and I for one am incredibly desperate to get more details on them, if we ever will.

Another detail we don’t know: when the Exterminations began to happen. Again, Charlie is our only source of information on any of this background knowledge; in a later episode, she says they just had a meeting and Lucifer agreed to them.

Later in this first episode, Lute makes sure Charlie knows that the Hellborn are spared from Exterminations only by Lucifer’s will (the implication being that if the Exorcists had their way, they’d be killing everything in sight, but that bit of clemency is significant; was Charlie born by the time the Exterminations began? Were Lucifer and Lilith trying for kids? Does Lilith count as Hellborn? Because thanks to Helluva Boss, we know that there are both imp and Ars Goetia presences in Pride, but they’re native species which Lucifer would likely have no reason to care about, if he’s even truly aware of them outside of his own bubble of self-loathing and simultaneous dislike of sinners).

Lilith is supposedly this influential and powerful Queen of Hell whose songs and powers are single-handedly making Hell a force to be reckoned with; where was she during these talks? If she’s so involved with Hell, why does no one mention her? Charlie is the only one who ever talks about her, and then only with Vaggie. Alastor was gone for seven years and his return caused ripples (because he purposely causes them, not because his presence is so powerful on its own); how long has Lilith been pulling away from Hell for people to know Charlie by name and refer to her as Lucifer’s daughter, but never as Lilith’s (except by Adam)?

If Lilith and Lucifer split up because Lucifer gave up and was unable to care about anything outside of his family, why is it still Lucifer who’s mentioned attending meetings with Heaven, or throwing the responsibility to Charlie? Where the unholy hell is Lilith and the evidence of her influence outside of some background fliers of her concerts and Charlie’s own memories, is what I’m saying.

What I’m also saying: Heaven’s fear of a Hellish uprising may not have been as unfounded as Charlie might think, because she sweeps over that little detail constantly and in a later episode it becomes a significant talking point for a certain character and I’ll get more into it later. But the bones of it now: YEAH Lilith was absolutely planning an uprising against Heaven and that’s why she wasn’t allowed to the Extermination meetings. Lucifer allowing them was him cleaning up her mess (in a kinda cowardly way, but he protects his own and then gets out of dodge. He doesn’t care about sinners or Hell. He cares about Charlie and Lilith. If they’re safe, he’s done his job. And to be fair, Heaven has shown itself more than ready and willing to destroy Hell entirely, though why they haven’t yet may be just as obvious as why Hell hasn’t truly risen up to overthrow Heaven: the toll on both sides would be too great. Carmilla Carmine being a fallen angel isn’t a theory I subscribe to but I do have to admit, her insight into the nature of violence and war and the devastation it wreaks does make me lean towards it a little).

I do note the sadness that this story version of Sera shows at allowing the Exterminations; it holds up with what we see of her later, her stated hesitance over the idea and how she clearly doesn’t like it but still sees it as necessary and therefore won’t be swayed into stopping it. What an interesting and complex character.

Other reasons Lilith wasn’t mentioned at the Extermination meeting and thus why I have decided she maybe wasn’t there: I can’t imagine her not going absolutely feral at Adam leading the Exterminations and thus trying to claw his eyes and balls out. There is textual evidence to disprove this, at least somewhat. But this here is a headcanon and I’ll stick to it because it makes me giggle.

So very interesting to study the colors of this little story, too. Lilith as Queen is fully red. Lucifer is most often shown in paler colors (the exception being when he and Lilith are cast down to Hell, though interestingly, he’s dripping as they fall, and Lilith isn’t). When Charlie finally shows up in the story, she is shown a lot like Evil and Eve, a dark silhouette with something bright and red illuminating her—but then turns bright white.

Even without his influence much in her upbringing, somehow or another, Charlie is Lucifer’s daughter, more like him than like Lilith. (We know Charlie sugarcoats like crazy and is an optimist to the point of destruction. Charlie loves her mother. Charlie knows her mother cared about Hell, fights for sinners to not be slaughtered yearly because she was taught by her mother that Hell was worth caring about. And yet. Look where Lilith is this entire time. For seven years. Food for thought.)

I really wish it was easier to tell Hellborn from sinners before they bleed. I had some theories about sinners not having horns, or at least not commonly having horns, but. Y’know. Background characters constantly making my life difficult.

Okay another thing that I want clarified in-text so badly: do sinners regenerate? There’s evidence to support it, but it’s never said in the show whether or not angelic steel is the ONLY thing that can kill sinners for good, just that it does. I’m aware of fanon regarding people who die in Hell being Voided (though according to the wiki, Viv has said that Hellborn who die become part of the fabric of Hell, which is why it looks weirdly organic, so the existence of a Void or even as Angel says in the pilot a double-Hell (turbo-hell lolol I only want it to exist for the memes) seems…unlikely), but what with Sir Pentious being redeemed…idk that I buy that sinners who double-die just cease to exist. It feels dissatisfying, or like there’s a piece missing somewhere.

Additional question: what happens to angels who die in Hell?? Do they become part of the scenery like Hellborn, do they cease to exist like sinners might, do they regenerate up in Heaven? WHAT HAPPENS?

It only took me an hour and a half to get to just watch the episode as normal after the opening. This is fine.

I like the idea of Heaven being structured similarly to Hell; Adam referring to a “Virtue” chick and the existence of C.H.E.R.U.B. and Cherub Towne in HB lends itself more to this duality of Heaven and Hell in a way that tingles my symmetry brain. Though. As HH states quite clearly. That duality is a lie. Nothing is ever that neat and tidy.

I cannot BELIEVE Angel called Vaggie by her full name and I neither really caught it nor truly believed it the first time around.

Ooh here we go, laying the groundwork for my many Alastor and Overlord mechanic theories. In the pilot, which might no longer be canon but is still an important piece of background, Alastor is called a deal-maker. It’s shown more in the show that he isn’t the only one who does that—in fact, it seems to become an Overlord, you have to be in possession of many soul contracts, enough that a group of them in a room together owns millions—but Alastor is pretty much the only one shown MAKING deals. Deals are discussed often and seem like a pretty reliable mechanic for “make a thing happen or make it more complicated,” but the only deals we ever see being made are done by Alastor. From my understanding, Overlords don’t own just souls, but territory; Alastor seems to be an exception.

It seems to me that it would be in-character for him to go for quality over quantity, and for his territory to be radio itself—and thus the hearing range of anybody within the sound of his voice. He displays talents that seem unique to him, not to Overlords in general, and I have some theories, but as the pieces come, I’ll put them together. The first piece is this: Alastor likes making deals. He makes deals for seemingly inconsequential things, favors for favors (though HB fans reading that in Stolas’ voice can giggle with me over imagining Alastor’s reaction to it). It's almost like he doesn’t know how to interact with people if it isn’t an exchange or a power move of some kind. That makes for a fascinating character to watch in action, because regardless of if cannibal serial killer is still part of his fabric now, it does make his gray morality compelling as he seems to grow fond of the group in some ways.

His villain heel-turn is inevitable, but I’m excited for it rather than dreading it.

Does Vaggie even have a soul to leverage? Her knowing Spanish seems to indicate she was human at one point, but it’s unclear if the Exorcists are Heavenborn with a rigid uniform (because Lute and Vaggie have a lot of physical similarities outside of the literal uniform) or. Like. Recruited from existing winner populations. With an obvious bias because Adam is a pig but you can’t argue with the results of a badass female army.

Okay, Lute’s wording is so interesting though—Daddy gave you and your Hellborn kind a pardon from an Exorcist’s blade. A pardon? A PARDON? Lucifer GAVE Hellborn demons a PARDON?? Because I find it hard to believe that that wouldn’t be something Lucifer would have to argue for if Heaven truly found Hell a threat. And it makes me wonder what he traded in exchange for that protection. But that wording. As if Lucifer granted the exception on a whim like a merciful lord. As if the Extermination was his idea and he could just make exceptions for people like it was his right…

OH SHIT WAS THE EXTERMINATION HIS IDEA??

Could it be possible that Lucifer and Lilith’s partnership fell apart because Lucifer betrayed Hell to Heaven?

Listen that seems far-fetched but I’m losing my mind a little bit right now because I can SEE IT. I can see it being a last-ditch effort to try and protect his family from the perceived threat of the sinners and the looming threat of Heaven, only for it to blow up in his face and it to not just end his marriage but crush Lilith’s spirit along with it.

Though if the Exterminations have only been going on for a few decades…if we take past backstory as canon for a moment and Charlie is around 200 years old, and her parents split when she was young (maybe pre-teen? I can’t remember if some of the family portraits I’ve seen online were in the background of the show and I just missed them or if they’re fanart)…I dunno, the timeline feels wonky to me. I WISH we knew how long the Exterminations have been going on, it is MADDENING that we don’t know that.

Also interesting to know that Adam has basically been functioning with little to no supervision. I wonder if Sera even knows an Exorcist died, or that they can be killed, before the attack on the Hotel?

The Exterminations can’t have been happening for so long that no other demon ever killed an angel. Carmilla Carmine seems like she’s been running her own show for a while, and while angelic steel isn’t common (and she’s right, demons who can afford it wouldn’t exactly be itching to try it out against Exorcists when they could be well-hidden and out of harm’s way instead), but demons are also audacious little upstarts (see Alastor). Given a long enough time frame, SOMEONE would have had to try it out. The Exterminations happening for just a few decades seems more and more likely the longer I think on it, but until we get a definitive timeline…ugh. Gonna have to wait.

And that was just episode 1! Oh no!! On to episode 2, which is probably going to get into more Alastor theories but WAY more about the mechanics of Overlords and also Charlie as the perfect picture of the Princess of Pride, bc hoo boy girlie you are working off of some ASSUMPTIONS.

[dearweirdme]

That crazy jikooker anon is doing too much honestly.

"you don't know if they spend time together off cam" well, we kinda do know that Jikook haven't seen each other a lot since JK had no idea about Jimin's schedules, promotions etc. I'd say a boyfriend who sees him on the regular would know.

Jikookers excuse in that case is "Jimin was busy, he didn't have time, he was preparing his album for almost a year". Nor Jimin's neither even busier at the time Hobi's schedule stood in the way of them going to a football match a year ago. I remember fandom went crazy "omg they know each other" style cause it was first interaction since ch2 started. Jimin had no problem flying early to the US to watch Hobipalooza, he had no problem going to Yoongi's show in the US despite his busy schedule there.

Also, apparently Jungkook was also very busy preparing for his album, he just didn't talk about it. So the "busy" excuse kinda doesn't work here.

On Fallon show Jimmy asked Jimin if he talks to other members Jimin's answer "We keep in touch", then Jimmy asked with who in particular and Jimin's immediate answer with no hesitation was "With J-hope", then he added "with Suga" and only then as if he decided to correct the answer he added "everyone". Now I'm sure they all talk to each other but this clearly shows who he actually kept in contact with the most. And it's quite visible.

White day this, white day that. Just like JK wasn't alone with Tae, he wasn't alone with Jimin. They went with four other people there once (despite all the fanfiction stories jikookers create). If they wanted a romantic day they would've spend it alone together not with four other people in the random restaurant where they could be (and were) easily spotted by other people.

All of the Jimin mentions in JK's live were either due to him reading something about Jimin in the comments or because Jimin was actively promoting and there was content.

Tae only had Jinnys kitchen. No music whatsoever since 2021. And there are so many reasons why JK would not react to it or watch it live. First, JK's physical 100 welive happened before Jinnys even aired. So by the time first episode came out he probably knew that it gonna be copyright striked and was probably warned not to do that again. Second, to us fans it's a rare opportunity to watch Tae in a show, to see him somewhere in general, but it's obviously not like that for JK, he sees him all the time and probably knew what was happening there anyway. Third, it may just not be the format he enjoys. Like, would I watch it without Tae in it? No, I'm not really a fan of shows like this. And finally, who says he didn't watch it? We don't know. Just like anon says "they could have went out and just didn't tell us". JK could've watched the show and not say a thing. We do know however that prior to welive he didn't watch that episode of Lee Mujins Service with Jimin.

Hi anon!

Not liking the "crazy" mention much, but I do agree with your general point of view. I do think we've more reason to think Tae and Jk meet on a regular base than Jimin and Jk. I also see the lack of personal knowledge and in footage of Jk and Jimin together (Hobi's enlistment bomb and Jk visiting Jimin's practice) I got the sense they hadn't seen each other much. That doesn't mean they're not close, they're just not closer than Tae and Jk.

Aside from the Taennie stuff, Taekookers have had a better few months. Jikookers haven't had as much to go on, and the footage they did get wasn't satisfactory. Many are actually concerned (maybe not the correct wording) that Jk and Jimin have had issues. So tat's probably why by they are so elated about the Taennie stuff and Jk watching Jimin content. But the thing is... they're making it some kind of competition. Like their ship is real because ours isn't. And that is just so weird to me. Even if Taennie were real (yeah no) I still wouldn't think Jk and Jimin are a couple. I'm so sure about that.

Days like White day and valentines day mean very little to me personally. In my society it's really more something teenagers or newly in love people do. Maybe it's more a thing In SK, but if that is the case then them going out with friends is definitely not a romantic thing to do. It's grasping, because it isn't logical. Their reasoning only makes sense if you think Jk and Jimin want to hint to fandom about them being together, but that then goes against Jimin wanting to be private. So yeah no.

[resowrites]

That Which Remains - Chapter Five

Summary: Lt. Ne-Lahn has joined the Enterprise as an OR, an Officer capable of working in multiple sections of the ship. However Ne-Lahn is from the planet Valaar, a mysterious world whose position near Klingon space means the Federation are eager to establish diplomatic relations. Captain Pike has been tasked with gathering information on Ne-Lahn and Valaar, but what will he and the Enterprise discover upon being drawn further into the mystery?

Characters: Captain Christopher Pike, Strange New Worlds crew, OC!Ne-Lahn

Warnings: Occasional adult/dark themes, occasional threat of violence/danger, technical/space jargon, angsty, eventual LGBTQ+ themes including homophobia, sparse on fluff, lightly beta’d.

WC: 2795

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! No copyright infringement intended, gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Chapter Five:

Lt. Ne-Lahn took a running jump before bearing down hard with a cross strike. Number One anticipated such a move and swiftly blocked her. The smacking of their staffs rang out across the gymnasium though fortunately, they were the only two in there. 

"You're already improving greatly Una..." Lt. Ne-Lahn stopped for a moment and wiped her brow.

"Well, I have a great teacher..." Number One smiled at the Lieutenant in a way that made her knees weak. But she had to stay on guard. The practice of Shenakaan was no laughing matter. Similar to Bōjutsu, it was a martial art involving long staffs. Valaarians held the sport in high regard and received training from a young age. Number One was an avid sportswoman and upon offering to work out with Lt. Ne-Lahn while the ship was held up at Starbase Twelve for repairs, the Lieutenant instead decided to teach her the most beloved sport of her people.

After a particularly challenging round, Number one thought she'd managed to gain the upper hand when Lt. Ne-Lahn briskly swept her off her feet and hard onto her back. The Lieutenant stared open mouthed for several moments before quickly throwing her staff aside and dashing to Una's collapsed form.

"Una... are you ok? I'm sorry... I suppose I got carried away." The Lieutenant smiled shyly and offered her hand. Una grabbed onto her and was pulled to her feet.

"Well, that'll teach me to take on an opponent with five times the strength and speed." She grinned at the Lieutenant, revelling in her sheepishness.

"Actually I was going easy on you... normally a battle of Shenakaan is to the death." It was the Lieutenant who smiled mischievously now and Number One could only look on disgruntled.

"You mean you were going easy on me? Didn't I tell you to give it all you've got Ne-Lahn? Although maybe I'm better off... these old bones can only bend so far..." She rubbed her aching elbow that had slammed particularly hard onto the floor. The Lieutenant was confused.

"Are you considered old Una? On Valaar you would be in your prime..." Number One threw her head back and laughed.

"And here I am wasting my time on Starbase Twelve... come on, let's get cleaned up and head to the bar." The Lieutenant followed her back to the changing rooms.

"So, speaking of prime womanhood... are you seeing anyone?" The Lieutenant was taken aback by her question as she hurriedly removed her Sinfan, the traditional dress worn by female Shenakaan fighters. 

"Uh... no, I'm not." Several moments passed uneasily.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to pry, I just wondered what it must be like for you. Tell me, are you lonely? Having to leave a whole planet behind can't have been easy..." Again the Lieutenant was surprised at how personal her questions were. Though she took it as a sign they were growing closer, and she had no issue with that whatsoever.

"Sometimes being me is... burdensome. Though I now consider Starfleet my home." Number One smiled as she lifted up her top and rubbed down her neck and shoulders. The Lieutenant quickly turned around, wanting to give the senior officer her privacy. Though she couldn't help but notice her broad shoulders and long, slender arms...

"Well, I'm glad to hear it. You know we need more people like you, especially after your heroics in Phaser Control. We're a lot alike you know... both strong women having to juggle the line between commanding and being ourselves. I'm here if you ever wanna talk ok?" The Lieutenant blushed hard and didn't know how to respond. One thing was for certain... she was glad she'd been assigned to the Bridge for her first week on the Enterprise.

Captain's Log: Stardate 1483.5, We are now on layover at Starbase Twelve, awaiting repairs of our Phaser Control room and most of deck five. I've ordered shore leave for the rest of the crew though hopefully, we'll be able to leave in a few days. Lt. Ne-Lahn continues to surprise me with both her bravery and dedication to the service. I'm hoping this not only bodes well for the Lieutenant but our mission on Valaar as well.

"So... not even a week out of the gate and you're already in need of repairs. Not the best omen Chris..." Commodore Locke smiled as he slid a glass of Aldeberan whiskey towards the Captain. He winced at the choice of words, though Commodore Locke had no idea of the vision the Klingons had shown him.

"Better that than the death of two crew members... I'm telling you Richard, this new Lieutenant of mine is full of surprises..." He took a large swig of the whiskey, it being hard to come by and kept mostly in private stashes. 

"Ah, the Valaarian... how's that going? I heard from Robert just how desperate Starfleet is to get them onside. Things seem to be getting pretty dicey in that quadrant... a supply ship disappeared there only a few days ago..." The Commodore looked down into his glass darkly, much like the Captain, he too hated mysteries.

"...To be honest I'm not sure. So far she's been difficult to puzzle out. She doesn't seem to care about mixing with the crew but she was just as quick to put her life on the line to save two of our technicians. I don't know if she's genuine or just trying to get on our good side. Una seems to have taken to her though..." The Commodore shook his head and laughed.

"Well surely that comes as no surprise, you know Una as well as I do, she likes the enemy tough and her friends even tougher. If it helps at all, we have another Valaarian currently in our midst. Ensign Ve-Nahr, he's waiting to be collected by one of the medical couriers. I can arrange for him to meet with you if you'd like?" The Captain lept at the chance. It may be his only chance to gather more intel before their mission to Valaar began in earnest.

"Send him my way, I need all the help I can get in that area... so what about this missing supply ship, is that likely to be added to our duty roster?" The Captain smiled knowingly, he knew Starfleet wasn't above piling on the pressure when it was already sky high.

"No... we've sent the Constellation on ahead to search for it. Too bad you missed Matt, he was looking forward to giving you a tour..." Both men chuckled at the thought, Matt Decker was a joker by nature, and though he took his commitment to Starfleet seriously, he also wasn't above poking fun at the service either.

"What else have you heard from that quadrant? I must admit I feel a little uneasy going in there blind..." The Captain grew serious as he considered the weight of the mission ahead of them. He'd had a bad feeling about it from the start and although Lt. Ne-Lahn had helped to allay some of those fears, his own experience was signalling a red alert whenever the mission came up in conversation.

"Much the same as before... strange energy signatures, abnormally quiet subspace comms, and now the missing ship... I don't know Chris, it could mean everything and it could mean nothing. One thing I can be sure of is that we must get the Valaarians onside before things start getting ugly." The Captain nodded vigorously.

"Amen to that."

Later that day.

"Come..." Captain Pike turned from the viewing screen to see Lt. Spock and an unknown gentleman of huge proportions. At nearly seven feet tall, he towered above Lt. Spock and indeed nearly brushed the ceiling of the briefing room. His flowing black hair trailed past his waist and the two stripes on his cheeks, though thicker and brighter in colour than Lt. Ne-Lahn's, showed that he was unmistakeably a Valaarian. 

"Ensign Ve-Nahr, thank you for agreeing to meet me. You too Spock... please be seated." The Captain's two guests sat across the long, angular table with their hands held in front of them. Even seated, the male Valaarian was still a hulking, if highly attractive figure. He could understand now why Commodore Locke had said the Cadet was proving a major distraction amongst his female staff. As Lt. Ne-Lahn was similarly attractive, the Captain wondered if this was a primary trait amongst their people and if so... what additional evolutionary purpose might it have served?

"So... I understand your mission is mainly medical but I wondered if you'd be able to assist me with mine. The Enterprise has been tasked with establishing diplomatic relations with Valaar and although I already have a Valaarian crew member who I hope will assist me once we get underway..." Ensign Ve-Nahr arched his black eyebrow. "There are still some gaps in my knowledge that I'd like filled." The Captain could see the Ensign swallow anxiously. "First of all, I'd like to know the exact nature of your telepathic powers, is it possible for Valaarians to communicate across great distances?" The Captain had been made aware of Dr. M'Benga's concerns after Lt. Ne-Lahn was held in sickbay.

"Captain... as I'm sure you already know, Valaarians do not normally share much information about our homeworld. However as my citizenship is now revoked, I will endeavour to answer as many of your questions as I can." The Captain and Lt. Spock looked at each other in surprise. Why was it Ensign Ve-Nahr was far more amenable to questioning than their own Lieutenant? "In regards to telepathy, while we do not communicate conversationally over large distances, we do have the ability to leave messages of sorts." The Captain considered this for a few moments.

"So... you're telling me you can act as an answering machine across space?" The Ensign struggled for a moment to decipher his meaning but eventually nodded in agreement.

"Ok... and about this banishment once you've gone off-world... can you tell me why this is the case?" The Ensign sighed and twiddled his thumbs.

"Valaar is extremely insular Captain and determined to hold onto its traditions. It considers joining the interstellar community a threat to such ideals. Normally Valaarians choose to leave so that they can explore more diverse careers and life paths. Other times they face expulsion due to breaching our many rules and codes of conduct." The Captain was now intrigued.

"Are we talking minor infractions or activities more along the lines of insurrection?" Lt. Spock also leaned in closer, determined to see whether the Ensign did indeed hold the missing pieces to the puzzle they'd all struggled to complete since Lt. Ne-Lahn's arrival on the Enterprise.

"You are correct Captain... the transgressions are usually severe though even circulating anti-government information and/or propaganda is sufficient for expulsion. Other examples include a refusal to carry out one's familial or spousal duties, such as refusing an arranged marriage or committing adultery. Any illegal activity, even the more minor varieties such as gambling, black market trading, and so on is also cause for revocation. Then there are the more controversial offences that are especially unpopular with younger citizens..." The Ensign trailed off, unsure of whether he should continue.

"Such as?" But the Captain was determined to get the full picture. Especially if it gave him a greater understanding of his new Lieutenant.

"Well... all citizens must worship Lenfahr, our creator God and saviour. Lenfahr is responsible for most of our ethical values and way of life. For example, homosexuality and transgenderism are forbidden by Lenfahr, as are expressions of individualism such as tattoos, piercings, and even different hairstyles. Women have no right to a life outside of their Denshik - or husband - and children. A man is also bound by his duty to his family, including providing a certain level of financial security. In essence, sir, Valaarians have little choice but to follow the paths set out for them by their parents and other conventional practices. It's extremely stifling and has led to greater numbers of our youth wishing to abandon Valaar altogether." The Ensign looked down solemnly. The Captain decided against asking what had led to him personally leaving his family, and all that he held dear, behind for good.

"And how is the government responding to this growing dissent?" The look on the Ensign's face grew sadder.

"Please understand Captain, I have not returned to Valaar since entering Starfleet. I know not what the current administrations are doing to control the population. When I left, the prisons and correction centres were mostly full and though some protested and even rioted against the increase in curfews and other crackdowns, the majority of the populace felt powerless to act. Although our world is mineral rich, we're neither opportunistic nor combative. All Valaarians are interested in is maintaining their way of life for as long as possible." The Captain hesitated at asking his next question, but he had little choice given Lt. Ne-Lahn's reluctance to give him any information.

"Cadet Ve-Nahr, this is very difficult for me to ask but are you aware of Lt. Ne-Lahn's involvement in any anti-establishment movement? If she's persona non-grata I need to know sooner rather than later..." The Ensign bit his lower lip, thereby exposing a particularly sharp set of fangs. The Captain hadn't noticed their teeth before now.

"All I know of Lt. Ne-Lahn is that she's from an important family in the South... I do not know what led to her expulsion, there were whispers of course..." The Captain leaned over closer in his chair.

"What kind of whispers Ensign?" But he just shook his head, causing the hair neatly tucked behind his ears to spill forth.

"It's likely just rumours sir... I'm not aware of her being a dissident of any kind. Her expulsion most likely came from her desire to join Starfleet... as did mine." The Captain smiled sadly, humbled by the fact that for many of their fellow crew members, joining Starfleet was amongst the biggest sacrifices of their lives.

'Well I thank you for your dedication Ensign... and I hope in time Valaar sees reason in joining the intergalactic community. Just one more question before I let you go... are you aware of the current goings on in the Beta Quadrant? We've been picking up unusual readings for some time. Have you or your family been in contact with each other and know what's going on?" He was aware he had no right to put such a question to the Ensign, but the more answers he had going forwards, the easier - and safer - their mission would be. 

"No sir, my family has disowned me and I suspect much is the same for Lt. Ne-Lahn... you know, I tried to communicate with her earlier in the mess hall. That is, my mind attempted to reach hers, but she rebuffed my contact and reprimanded me on her way out. It was impertinent on my part, I'm of a lower caste and not permitted to speak to high born female Valaarians in such a casual setting. Though I got the impression her reticence was more to do with a desire to disassociate herself from Valaar than to behave snobbishly." The Captain thanked Ensign Ve-Nahr for his insight and let him return to his shore leave.

"Now... if only Mr. Ve-Nahr could have been assigned to us instead..." Lt. Spock looked at the Captain confused, unsure of whether he was being facetious or not. "Well, at least we've had some of the gaps filled in... though I'm not feeling very confident Spock. Lt. Ne-Lahn still remains a mystery. You reported to me that it appeared she was receiving psychic contact of some kind during our morning briefing. Well, Dr. M’Benga told me something similar happened during her time in sickbay. There’s something going on Spock and it’s making me all the more curious as to how she got expelled... you'd think they'd have a great need of someone like her in an official setting." Lt. Spock agreed with his assessment.

"That may be so Captain but as you heard the Ensign, despite the high regard female Valaarians are held in, most are not permitted to roles outside of their caste and families. Are you forgetting I also mind melded with the Lieutenant? She did not give the impression of someone who wishes to court unrest." The Captain had every reason to trust Spock's judgement, and Una was also a good judge of character. But the Ensign himself had said there were rumours regarding the Lieutenant's departure and in time that could prove problematic to their mission. 

A/N: Hi guys, as a huge Star Trek fan and a lover of the new Strange New World series, it’s my pleasure to present this new ten part story. Any feedback is appreciated and Chapter 4 will be out next Friday at 6pm EST - so I hope you’ll continue to stick around and enjoy more to come!

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

[dailybayonetta]

what are your thoughts on gifmakers having a ko-fi? do you feel like it's profiting off of someone else's work? (whether it be movies, shows, animes, video games, etc) a mutual of mine is considering creating one but is afraid of the potential blowback. what do you think?

I mean, technically, people do this all the time, like, look at youtube essays and all that with their patreons, artist selling prints of a fanart, it isnt illegal to monetize your content even if it's a property based - unless you got copyright striked or DMCAed from a start, or you originally know the owners of said property copyright anything they see (look at most anime owners or Nintendo who's very strict with fan games and all that, or Genshin devs who require for you to fill what you do and how you do and where u sell it). Fair use does exists after all and gifs, I as much I know, do fairlu fall under that category. To the point that to promote stuff nowadays with gimmick accounts on twitter, that do make gifs for people to use and make gifs with official watermarks and etc, even though that’s what tumblr usually does but for free or hence it might even be just stolen content but people still like to speak as if this site is dead

And, I still think that kind of way (patreon/ko-fi/donations) of profiting IS miles better than what tumblr tried to do with it's subscrtiption posts and else. Like of all sites there it shouldn't be a thing, it's this one (hell, it's not even working properly 80% of the time). Not only tumblr is probably not going to protect you on your fair use, but overall the way your work isn't secured is like... whatever. At worst you'd probably got deleted and be done with it.

Honestly, back in the day (flash to stuff before 2017, as i got into making this blog) I would probably say that people trying to profit off gifs is silly or that it's not going to happen, but simply because I was giffing for fun and my works were usually pretty simple.

But once I started doing more complicated stuff and trying running dedicated blogs and being part of networks, I released how much of the time it takes put the actual sets on the consistent basis (along with answering to people, because I felt like talking too), hell, even on weekly basis it's was time consuming, you know? Finding good footage (or recording as i did to make it crisp as possible, or if it's shows for example getting somewhere bluray/DVD version, or taking time to restore old stuff so it would look GOOD), writing subtitles with no mistakes, making sure that gifs didn't scaled past 4MB (ah, old times), hoping that gifs would appear in the tag, or making something specific that barely few people would reblog but you still would make that because u just want and many more things people while giffing, despite staff constant efforts of making their tagging system and site worse. 

Like, I’d still probably wouldn’t do it, but I can totally get behind and see why people would open ko-fi or take donations, like it’s still just like the art posting, or video editing and different kinds of work and considering that users of this site like to ignore reblog button, always did, but in recent history even more, I can’t even be upset in any way and kind of sympathise with people who would probably open a patreon and ko-fi or something. 

Answering your question - I would probably say it would only backfire if your mutual is doing Disney shows/content or something (which I also doubt), do seen plently of people doing it and so far no big problems whatsoever. 

And just like I said, considering twitter is just a bunch of tumblr stolen content (the amoung of times I’ve seen gifs from my blog being reposted there, as if it’s original post or something, with no appreciation whatsoever or recongising mutuals gifs because i remember their URLs and twitter doesn’t even bother) and not mention that people just straigh up screenshot your gifs and post it to instagram (I’ve even been asked by someone if they are allowed to do so), I think people sure can be allowed to get something in return. For sure. 

[talkfastromance4]

The Click-- Calum Hood (soulmate!au)

It’s here! I’ve never written soulmate stuff before so this is probably really different from what you’ve normally read, and it’s different from what I normally write but this really has a part of my heart in it.  Inspired by Lang Leav’s wonderful works (the poems up above) and some weird instances I’ve been having.

Word count: 5.6k

Warnings: none, no smut whatsoever (I know who am I?)

Son inspiration: Then I saw You by Tatiana Manois and Surrender by Natalie Taylor

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. *copyright is listed at bottom*

• • • •

Two strangers both alike in mind have a book propped open with words inked in of love and heartbreak and other musings. They are alike because they mark their favorite poems by dog ears and highlights with little scrawls of their own thoughts scratched into the margins.

Late night for her, early morning for him as they’re on two different sides of the country, it’s not just miles that separate them, but the day and night. The moon comforts her and is her light as she reads of a love shared between two poets. The sun is his friend and a warm embrace as he delves deeper and deeper into the pages of the same love but tinged with an air of sophisticated provocativeness.

While on their Spotify playlists, the same artists and songs are shared between the two. Music and lyrics, words, and prose, two hearts longing for the same thing. 

A love to be written about, a love to be shared, an adventurous love that is unique because it is their own. In both their minds, that kind of love doesn’t seem tangible. To be added to their likeness, they’re both the only single ones amongst their friends and have been for a while. 

Calum showered his friends in love, giving his friends small gifts and helping in any way that he could. He was always down for a good time, sharing laughs and making memories. Rose was the same, she enjoyed being with her friends and family. 

In the daylight they appeared fine and well put together but going home to an empty house in a lonely bed is where they felt the weight of their ache. Sometimes it kept them both up, reading their poetry books or writing their own. His were songs while hers were just words but the premise was the same, dreaming of love. 

She received an opportunity of a lifetime to go to school for her writing. A quiet dream she’d held safe in the privacy of her own mind. It was thrilling yet terrifying moving to a whole new city, the city of angels. Her best friend stayed with her for a week helping her adjust in her new albeit small studio apartment.

It was a steal that was right above a coffee bookshop, a place where she’d also received a job. When she wouldn’t be in school, she’d be working to help pay for rent. While she unpacked and decorated her place, she kept pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. 

When her classes started, she was up by 4 a.m. because of her nerves and her excitement, it bundled up inside her. She ran through her schedule three times, checked her bag that she had the right textbooks and her small laptop.

She read her favorite poems until it was time for her first class. The owner of the shop already had her coffee made to her liking with a cranberry orange muffin already in a bag. 

“Thanks Teresa,” she smiles, taking the goodies.

“Have a great first day! Do you want a picture with your bag?�� Teresa is a kind, thirty-something year old woman. She’s living her dream owning a coffee bookshop and has the kindest smile. 

“I’m okay, don’t need a reminder I’m starting with kids fresh outta high school.”

“You’re not that much older, twenty-five is still young, Rose,” Teresa smiles. “Enjoy it.”

“Thank you,” she smiles then waves with her pinky. 

Her first day of classes is just how she thought they’d be, the awkward introductions that she rehearsed in her head before speaking, going through the itinerary for the semester and then reading a few chapters and taking some notes. Rose loved every minute of it. 

During lunch and her breaks, she reread through each itinerary again and bookmarks the pages in her textbook she’ll be needing. In between that, she reads her poetry book and jots down a few of her own thoughts. 

Then, the day is done and she starts her four hour shift at the bookshop that would last until closing time at 9:30. Rose quickly discovered that this would be a very easy job because it didn’t get a rush of people for dinner. 

Some other students she passed on campus would stop in with a friend and share a cup of coffee or tea. By 7:30 there were only a couple of people scattered about the shop, books, or tablets in front of them as the soft indie music played throughout. 

Rose gathers her books into her bag behind the counter before she moves to the bookshelf wall to restock the books left on the small wooden tables. She finds herself humming along to a song she knows when there’s a commotion outside.

The other guests inside turn to look as well through the windows framed in the purple and blue twilight shade to see a couple. They’re the source of the noise as both their voices rise over the other and when he throws his arms in the air that’s when Rose turns back to her task.

Clearly whatever was happening outside was a private moment and Rose couldn’t help but smile at the irony of the saying ‘outside looking in’ while she’s inside but was just looking into their outside debacle. Her mind always thinks of outlandish things like that, she calls it her circle thinking because she can run with the same thought over and over. 

It doesn’t make sense to others, but it does to her.

After a few moments, she glanced outside, and the couple was gone. The streetlights had flickered on and she could see stars poking through the darkened sky. She hopes she’ll see the moon upstairs. 

After the last guest leaves, she locks the door and sweeps up the shop, wipes down tables and locks the cash drawer in the small vault in the back. She checks that the back door is locked after tossing the garbage out quickly and runs upstairs to her studio apartment. She makes a cup of hot cocoa before bed and reads and writes into her favorite poetry book, her journal next to her. 

The hot cocoa made her sleepy and she fell fast asleep with her book atop her chest. She dreamed of someone that held a powerful connection with her, he understood her and made her smile. By morning, the dream slipped away with the stars and she started her new routine over again. 

***

Calum’s fingers tap impatiently on the laminate surface of the table as he sat through this meeting. It was mundane but necessary that he be here because the band had decided to take a year off. The world is still in recovery from the pandemic and they agreed collectively to hold off on anything until there was some decent footing again. 

He’s been in a bit of a mood since he and Zoe fought a few weeks ago after having dinner. They weren’t exclusive, only seeing each other on occasion and that night she brought up soulmates. She was almost nagging at him that he wasn’t hers and that they were wasting their time when he reminded her, she was the one to call him. 

He hasn’t heard from her since. 

His mind wandered throughout, thinking of ways he can occupy the next 365 days when he wasn’t writing music. Music is his life; it’s always been a constant and has pulled him through some tough situations and has uplifted him in joyous ones. On the TV stuck to the wall there was a news report scanning at the bottom that the university not too far from his home has the highest enrollment rate.

That piques his interest. He reads the closed caption below the broadcaster as it says open enrollment has become the new norm, welcoming students from all ages to attend. This information strikes a chord within Calum and he’s found what he wants to do with his year off. 

When the meeting had finally finished, Calum decided to head over to the university and see if he could still enroll. The semester started only a few weeks ago but with this new window of free time, he’s sure he could catch up. 

Enrolling turned out to be easy. He had a meeting with a counselor to discuss what his intentions were and if there was any specific study he wanted to get into. He selected creative writing and psychology, bought his books, got his schedule and he was officially a college student. 

The night before his first class, Calum is restless. He tosses. He turns. He stares out the window of his room, the moon winking at him through the small opening of the curtain. Duke is snoring softly to his left and Calum’s mind is racing. 

Thoughts tumble over one another, scenarios flash across his mind and then he hears a random melody in his head that sounds too familiar and it helps him drift off to sleep. 

***

Calum is racing to get to his first class, he didn’t wake up to his alarm until thirty minutes after the intended time and he blamed it all on a dream. A dream that felt so real he thought the woman in his subconscious was still speaking to him in his ear. 

He threw on the first article of clothing his fingers touched, gargled with mouthwash, and shoved a beanie on his head. Regrettably, he didn’t have time to stop for coffee and he hoped there would be some sold on campus somewhere. 

Calum just got settled into his seat at the back of the lecture when the Professor stood at the front and began to speak. Thankfully, Calum retrieved notes from the three weeks he missed and read them all weekend, so he picked up easily with what the Professor is talking about. 

He smiles to himself, maybe he is cut out for school. 

Calum is surprised how drained he feels after his first day. His head is swimming with new knowledge and he’s anxious to get home and get to work. On his walk back to the parking structure where his car is parked, he sees the coffee bookshop he and Zoe fought in front of almost a month ago. 

The sign above the bay window reads ‘CBS’ and in smaller print below that it reads ‘coffee bookshop’ and he smiles at the simple cleverness. He remembers Ashton has gone in there a few times and said the coffee is great. Calum makes a promise to himself that he’ll stop there tomorrow morning before class to grab a cup.

His night is spent reading over the homework and answering a few of the discussion questions while Duke sat in his lap. Calum tried writing down the lyrics of the song he heard this morning, but he couldn’t distinguish what they were. To wind down, he had his favorite Michael Faudet book propped on his stomach as he read through each page.

He reads through his own writing; his words transport him to that point in time when the words flowed out of him effortlessly. One poem resonates in his mind as he reads about love being compared to that of a rose and the lilting melody from this morning trickled into his ears again and he instantly relaxed. His mind quieted and his eyelids felt heavy as he replayed the same simple notes over and over. 

A beautiful melody without any words.

The loud vibration of his phone woke him up before the actual song did, but he leapt out of bed immediately. The promise of a hot cup of coffee egged him on to take a shower and dress in something nicer than a wrinkled band shirt he had on yesterday. 

Traffic wasn’t that bad, and he parked his car on the first level of the structure and he still had forty-five minutes until his first class. Today is shaping up to be the start of a good one and just as he locks his phone so he can open the door of the CBS, he collides with a body. 

Books go flying. His phone clutters to the ground and he panics at the fatality that could be evident in the million cracks of his screen. Rushed ‘sorry’s’ are exchanged between him and the stranger as they scramble to gather their things. Their bodies twist away from each other as he shoves his books and pens back into his bag. 

When he stands to apologize again, she’s already bustling away, her red scarf blowing behind her in the morning breeze. He sighs then heads inside to examine his phone, but he looks back again to try and get a glimpse of her face. She’s already gone. While they were scrambling to get their belongings, he noted how the smell of coconuts, vanilla, and something else he couldn’t put his finger on, invaded his nostrils. It made him think of the ocean.

He examines his phone to find there isn’t a scratch on it and when he unlocks it there’s a picture of the poem he read last night. Roses. The girl he bumped into smelled of roses. 

***

Rose is having an off day. Her alarm didn’t even go off and she put in a generous amount of dry shampoo in her hair but resulted in putting on a hat. She didn’t even have time to get her coffee and muffin from Teresa for she rushed out the front door and collided with some guy. 

Without her coffee it was hard for her to focus and when she got called on in class, she had to ask the professor to repeat the question because she didn’t hear it. Then her laptop crashed, and she couldn’t work on an assignment that’s due by Friday. 

By the time she made it to CBS, she didn’t want to work her shift. Customers were being needy and rude and all she wanted to do was take a hot shower and read. After eating a quick microwave dinner, Rose took a hot shower then turned on her favorite playlist titled ‘Blue’ for moments like this. 

She opens her bag to grab her poetry book, ‘The Universe of Us’ but finds its exact counterpart of Lang Leav; Michael Faudet’s book ‘Cult of Two’ lays on her table. 

Did she put that in her bag by mistake? 

It was a rough morning so it is possible, but she could have sworn she grabbed the book from her bedside table. Sighing, Rose takes the book to place it back on her shelf then becomes more confused when she sees the same book in her hands, perched snugly on the shelf with her other poetry books. 

Rose knows she only has one copy, so where did this one come from and where is her book? She tosses the white paperback onto her bed and empties her whole bag, checking each book twice. How could she have lost it? It’s always buried safely in the bottom of her bag and she didn’t take it out all day except--

Rose gasps. This morning when she was leaving the shop she bumped into a guy and all their belongings went flying. She must have grabbed his book by mistake, and he grabbed hers. Panic sets in, she’s written down some of her innermost thoughts in that book, personal things.

Now this random stranger has her soul in his hands, and she might never see him again. With angry tears in her eyes she crawls into bed while Lewis Capaldi’s voice thrums around her walls. Needing comfort, she opens the strangers’ book then snaps it shut just as fast because there’s handwriting on the pages. 

Just like hers.

***

Calum is reading about the red string of fate. After that run in with the girl outside CBS a month ago, he read through her book and became transfixed with those words she wrote down. He knows he shouldn’t have read her thoughts, but once he started, he couldn’t stop. Clearly the poetry captivated her, but her words captivated him.

The red string of fate is a Japanese legend meant to tie soulmates together by their pinkies. No matter the circumstance, the time or place, the two will always find each other. It may stretch and it may tangle but it will never break. He’s never heard of it before now, but he’s become obsessed with the idea of it. 

Every morning he’s stopped by CBS to see if he’ll run into her again so he can return her book, but he’s never seen her. His classes are going well and he’s learning so much, his creativity is overflowing. Much of that is because of this girl’s book. 

Its spine is overly creased from endless love of reading, some words are highlighted and circled. Pages are dog eared on what he assumes are her favorite poems. Calum smiled the first time he paged through it all because he’s written in his book as well. He wonders if she’s read any of his musings yet. 

“Bro, I haven’t seen you without that book. Where’s yours?” Ashton asks while they’re out for lunch. 

“Um, I lost it actually. I bumped into this girl outside the CBS and our things scattered everywhere. We switched books,” Calum explains flipping the pages. “She writes it in like I do.”

“You read it? Mate,” Ashton sighs exasperatedly, “that’s an invasion of privacy.”

“I know, I know! But I can’t get enough of it. She’s smart and passionate in what she writes. I wish I got a better look at her when I bumped into her so I could return it.”

“There’s no name inside?”

“Nope. She could be in one of my classes for all I know,” Calum sighs then picks away at the corner of the cover. “What was it like when you and Ruby found each other?”

Ruby is Ashton’s soulmate and they’ve been together for almost two years now. Calum remembers the change in Ashton when she came into his life, he was lighter. 

“I heard her voice in my head.”

“What did she say?”

Ashton smiles, “My name.”

“Then how did you find her?”

“I don’t know, it’s hard to explain,” Ashton’s brows crease. “It was only a few days after I heard her voice that I knew her name. It came to me out of the blue. Do you remember anything about her?”

“She had on this red scarf and smelled like a rose.” Calum suddenly felt a wave of dizziness swim in his head and he held onto his temples.

“You okay?” Ashton reaches over as if to help but he’s not sure what’s happening to his friend. 

“Woah, that was weird, I got super dizzy,” Calum says blinking a few times until he can see straight again. He removes his fingers from his temples and Ashton is giving him a funny look. “What?”

“What did she smell like again?” he leans forward.

“A rose, why--fuck!” the wave of dizziness crashes into him again and it’s like his brain is spinning in his head. When his vision returns Ashton is smiling gleefully. “Glad to see you enjoy my pain.”

“Don’t you see?! You got vertigo as soon as you said rose. That must be her name.”

“Really? Is that what happened when you said Ruby’s name?”

“Yeah basically, but it wasn’t this strong. She must be close,” Ashton looks around him as if she’ll appear out of thin air. “I suggest going to CBS morning and night, she’s gotta be there at some point.”

***

Rose is flicking through the pages of the new poetry book she acquired. Curiosity killed the cat and she just had to dig her claws between the pages because she’s sure he’s already done the same or will soon enough. 

Some of his thoughts left her breathless and with an odd familiar feeling at the way it’s structured. Some of his sentences seem more like lyrics that she’s heard before but can never find the tune that goes with it.

She hadn’t been feeling well this morning, nausea and dizziness made her skip her classes and she laid in bed all day. It would come and go throughout the day and right before bed she drew herself a bubble bath with some candles. The flickering light created the perfect ambience while she read Faudet’s words and the mysterious stranger. 

Where her notes are written in paragraphs or stanzas, his are scattered about the page. Sometimes she has to turn the book to read it upside down. The curse words make her laugh and sometimes there’s a fun little drawing. 

It isn’t until she reaches the last few pages and she’s reading about a blue angel and knocking back a shot when she stumbles on a name that is not the author. It’s a name she’s heard before, a name she’s known of and has seen floating around her social media.

“Calum Hood,” she mumbles, and she instantly becomes dizzy again. It happens so fast it startles her, and she nearly drops the book into the bubbles. Somehow in her bewilderment she managed to let it flop onto the bathroom floor. 

The bathwater and bubbles slosh over the sides as she reaches for the book again. Did she read that right? Her fingers leave dark, pudgy circles on the pages as she goes to that page again. 

“Calum,” she breathes, and the room spins again causing her to drop the book once more. “Okay, okay, okay, okay. . .”

Rose gets out of the bath quickly, letting the water drain noisily as she dries off and puts on her pajamas. The spinning has stopped, and she sits cross legged in the middle of her bed, the poetry book open to the poem and her phone opened to Instagram and Twitter.

She’s been an avid fan for quite a few years now and to think if he was the one, she bumped into? With her thumbs hovering over the keyboard she closes her eyes trying to remember anything about him from that morning. 

All she can remember is the rush to gather her things and his soft husky voice as he said sorry. She didn’t look at him once and it’s very possible she bumped into Calum Hood. Her mind racing, she texts every one of her friends that have already found their soulmates asking what and how it happened. 

She needs answers because how odd is it that she’s felt dizzy and nauseous all day then sees his name, says it, and gets dizzy all over again? Is that what’s supposed to happen? Does this mean he’s been saying her name all this time as well? 

Her friends' responses were pretty much the same. In each instance they heard his or her voice in their head say their name. Why hadn’t she heard his voice? Could he hear hers? Rose unlocks her phone and searches his name, turns out he’s gone back to school. The same school she’s attending but it doesn’t say what he’s studying, which is good because it must be annoying having everyone know what’s going on in your life. 

Rose falls back onto her pillows burrowing under the covers and shuts off the light. 

“Please let me go to school tomorrow, Calum,” she huffs then turns over to hug her pillow. 

She swears she hears a ghostly laugh in her ear before sleep consumes her. 

***

“I bite back.”

Calum still hears the soft voice from his dream, he can still feel the soft brush of her lips against his ear as she said those words. He’s staring up at the ceiling replaying the dream of sitting next to a girl. In his subconscious it felt like he already knew her, and they carried a conversation well. He doesn’t remember exactly what he was saying but he can hear those three words as if she were laying right next to him. 

He greets Duke with quick kisses before letting him outside and Calum washes his face, brushes his teeth, and gets dressed. After he brings Duke in, Calum gathers his bags making sure The Universe of Us is right at the top. 

He’s been going to CBS early each morning so he can sit and try to watch for the girl he bumped into. He has one cup of coffee and reads through her pages until it’s time to go for class. A few times he thought he recognized her, but the girl in question always turned out to be just a fan and wanted a quick chat and photo. 

They never smelled like roses, so he knew it wasn’t her.

After his final sip of coffee, he flips to a page with the title ‘The One’ and he immediately goes to the girl’s handwritten words. 

‘And I want you to be the one for me. The one who brings out my storm but also calms the waves. I want you to be my perfect counterpart. Is my red string frayed?���

Calum smiles at the last sentence. He wishes he could tell her that no, it isn’t frayed and he’s trying his damndest to find her. He gathers his things and heads out the door because his first class is starting in fifteen minutes.

Just as he walked out the door, if he would have waited one more minute, Rose came by his table and cleaned up his dishes to help Teresa out before she went on her way to class. 

“How are you feeling today Rose?” Teresa asks, taking the dirty dishes from her. 

“A little better,” Rose shrugs, “I can’t miss two days. Are you sure it’s alright I can switch my shift from tonight to tomorrow?”

“Of course. You need to catch up on what you missed, Colbie will cover for you. Take it easy, you still look a little pale,” Teresa frowns. 

“I’ll be fine, but thank you,” Rose smiles then waves. “I’ll see you later.”

***

The day runs as normal for them both. Calum has felt this growing energy within him as if something is about to happen, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. He’s been looking at every woman he passes waiting to see if there’s a connection or a siren that will go off as if to say “that’s her! That’s her!” but he comes up short. 

Rose still feels a little queasy throughout the day and she’s distracted because all she wants to do is read Calum’s poetry book to try and find another connection. 

When the school day is over, she sets up her workspace at her favorite table by the bookshelf in a large, plush chair. Her own latte sits next to her while she quickly does her homework and opens the book. From the corner of her eye a tall figure sits in the chair on the other side of the table. She pays it no mind until there’s a loud crash.

The stranger knocked her cup to the floor, and it shattered, white foam and coffee filling up the grooves in the tile. 

“Shit, I’m sorry--”

“It’s okay,” she says automatically. 

They both reach for the largest fragment of broken cup; their pinkies touch and Rose feels something click inside her. Her skin is hot where he touches her, and with her heart pounding like a thousand horses running, she looks up. 

He knew who she was before he looked into her eyes, when they came in such proximity, he smelled the roses and the coconut and the vanilla. When their pinkies touched, he felt a spark shoot up his veins, that’s the siren he’s been waiting for and when he looked into her eyes? Everything clicked into place.

“Rose?”

“Calum?”

They both laugh nervously, their pinkies still touching. Rose feels her cheeks warm and Calum can’t stop smiling at her. After their small moment, they clean up the mess of the broken cup and sit back in their respective chairs. 

“I think this is yours,” she holds out his book that she was currently reading. 

“And I believe--” he pulls out her book from his bag holding it up “--this is yours.”

Having it in her possession again makes it feel like a lost limb has been returned home. Calum flips through his own book noticing the wrinkled pages. He knows she read it and he’s so glad she’s the one who did. He watches her rifle through the pages, soft fingers tracing over words that have been printed and words she’s inked in herself. 

“You’re a wonderful writer,” he comments, and her eyes flash up to him.

“You are too, but you’re a musician so that’s no surprise,” she giggles, and Calum loves the sound. 

Talking comes easily between Calum and Rose, but how could it not when they’re soulmates? As the night gets longer and the shop is about to close, Rose invites him up for some tea and he gladly accepts. 

While she’s setting up the kettle, he examines her bookshelf, some books he’s read, and others grab his attention that he wants to ask her about. Soft music fills the room and he smiles because this is on one of his playlists as well.

“How do you like your tea?” she asks, and Calum moves back to the kitchen area. 

“Little bit of milk and honey and some sugar,” he smiles, watching her add the ingredients.

Their fingers brush again when he accepts the cup from her, another spark ignites but it starts a different type of warmth. Calum becomes very aware of both their actions. He’s aware of how close she sits next to him on the couch, he’s aware of the way she licks her lips and how badly he wants to kiss them. 

“So, this is . . . a little crazy, right?” she laughs awkwardly, her finger circling the rim of the mug. “How did you find me? Did you hear my voice? Because I didn’t hear yours.”

“What did you experience then?” he asks, setting his mug on the small table in front of them. 

“I was home for a whole day because I just felt really dizzy and nauseous, then when I was taking a bath and reading your book, I saw your name, said it out loud and had another dizzy spell. I think I dreamed of you, too. . .” her brows furrowed in confusion.

Calum tries not to let her small tidbit of information that she was in the bath when she said his name get to him, but he knows exactly what she’s talking about. He was at home playing with Duke when he felt another wave of dizziness hit, it came upon him so fast that he practically fell onto the couch. It felt different then when he said her name, it was stronger. 

“I’m sorry, when I discovered your name, I kept saying it,” he admits fiddling with one of his rings. 

“How’d you find out my name?” 

“I was talking with my friend, Ashton and I told him about the day we collided and how you smelled like a rose. You know what’s funny? When we said each other’s name downstairs I didn’t feel dizzy, did you?”

“No, I didn’t,” she shakes her head then looks at him, “what does that mean?”

“I--” he stops short when the song shifts, and he gasps. “I’ve had this melody stuck in my head for weeks, is this you singing?”

“Absolutely not,” Rose laughs and rises from the couch to turn it up on her phone. “It calms me down, so I play it a lot. What was--oh!”

She spun around and Calum was standing right in front of her. She didn’t realize how tall he is until right now and the scent of his cologne and laundry detergent reminds her of a home she’s come back to. 

“I have an idea as to why we didn’t hear each other’s voices,” he says, stepping even closer. 

“What’s that?” Rose licks her lips.

“We feel things, and instead of vocalizing them, we write them down or listen to it in music,” he tucks her hair behind her ear. “Even the books we read the authors are in love.”

Rose chuckles at that. “Yeah, what are the odds they’re our favorites?”

“Pretty high, since we were made for each other,” he smiles. His fingers tickle her cheek as he tilts her head up, her eyes are shining, and the smell of roses invades his senses. He inches his mouth closer to hers, “I’m ready to surrender to this, Rose.”

She nods and closes the small space between their lips and it’s as if everything stops. The only thing she can feel are his soft, warm lips on hers, the calluses of his fingers on her cheek and the way his other hand wraps around her waist. He pulls her close and she grabs hold of his shirt, kissing him is like a breath of fresh air. 

He pulls her even closer, chest against chest and she gasps at the movement but welcomes his tongue excitedly. They kiss feverishly, as if this is the only time they have. But they have many more days and many more moments to make memories of. 

They’re breathing heavily when they break the kiss, she feels him smile against her lips and gives her two soft pecks. 

“Calum?”

“Hmm?” his thumb strokes her cheek affectionately.

“You made my world stop spinning.”

• • • •

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

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[gukyi]

for you, anything | ksj

summary: in the popular online multiplayer game, kingdom, you are the top-ranked knight with money, fame, and power. in real life, you’re a graphic design geek who’s got a very unsubtle crush on her gorgeous coworker, kim seokjin. but when you’re suddenly dethroned from the first place spot in your game, you and your kingdom character embark on a journey to reclaim your title, and learn on the way that things are not always as they seem. 

{friends to lovers!au, enemies to lovers!au}

pairing: kim seokjin x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, fantasy word count: 21k warnings: alcohol mention, brief and non-graphic descriptions of violence, this is basically two fics in one so you get double the fun and double the word count!! a/n: once again, a massive, massive thank you to @aurawatercolor for commissioning me!! you can find her on twitter as well under @btspresso_!! she’s the genius behind this enemies to lovers and friends to lovers seokjin fic wrapped up into a nice package just in time for the holidays!! you ever seen a fic with e2l and f2l together? that’s right, i didn’t think so. enjoy!!!

check out the post-script drabble here!

♚ HERE ♚

“Oh, shit!”

From twelve feet away comes the sound of these three things in this order: fingers furiously mashing keyboard keys, wheels of an office chair swiveling angrily on the linoleum floor, and a war cry. All of which could either belong to a video game world championships in a big-city stadium or your simple, office of two-floors in a more-than-one-hundred-stories skyscraper based in graphic design and media for small start-up companies. 

“I can’t tell if Photoshop crashed again or if you’re playing that weird online multiplayer game again,” Yoongi grumbles from across the way, where he’s gnawing on a Clif bar in one hand as he mindlessly taps his mouse with the other. 

“Please,” Jimin says, carelessly waving a hand. “Don’t act like I haven’t caught you watching My Hero Academia multiple times this year while we were supposed to be doing work, you absolute piece of toast. But if you must know, I was in fact playing Kingdom.”

“I’m going to tell Namjoon,” Yoongi says with zero emphasis, because everybody knows that Namjoon’s got dirt on everybody in the office anyway (including Yoongi) and that if you try to expose somebody else to him, he’ll expose you back. It’s colleague culture. 

“And what’s Namjoon gonna do? He already knows you carry a flash drive of illegally-downloaded animes with you wherever you go,” Jimin retorts casually. He’s not wrong, and you can confirm that Yoongi indeed carts around a USB drive in the shape of a pineapple that has 64GB of anime. 

“What do I know?”

Namjoon comes trotting into view from the corridor that leads to the gender-neutral bathrooms with glasses hanging from the collar of his sweater vest, a clipboard with nothing attached to it in his right hand, and a steaming cup of jasmine tea (he hates coffee and declares this publicly at least three times a day) in his left. 

“You know that Yoongi—”

“Has been doing his work the whole time you were in the bathroom so you don’t need to worry about him,” Yoongi interrupts quickly. 

Namjoon shoots both Jimin and Yoongi a suspicious glare, but moves on. He’s got enough blackmail on the both of them to bury them into the next calendar year, but he’s wise, and he only uses it when absolutely necessary. “Just doing checkups on you guys before Boss Man calls me back into his office and gives me a pile of over one hundred hours of work I’m supposed to do in a forty-hour work week.” It’s been obvious from the moment you were hired that Namjoon does the most work out of anybody in this office, including your boss, and gets very, very little from it. 

“You don’t even have any paper attached to your clipboard,” Taehyung points out rather unhelpfully, from where he’s been drawing hearts on the cheeks of the Surprised Pikachu meme he’s taped up on the wall his desk is pushed up against. 

Namjoon looks down at his clipboard like it just spit mad fire at him, furrows his brows, and lets out a sigh equivalent to three years worth of pent-up aggression. “Shit.”

Jimin cackles from his computer. 

“Whatever, I’m still going to do checkups.” Namjoon takes the pen from behind his ear and writes himself a note, presumably to get paper for his clipboard later. “Jimin, you’re still working on that website layout for the art critic and photographer. Yoongi’s on coding for that search engine that we all know is never taking off but is still paying us. Taehyung’s on marketing because he’s got the most charming voice and Hoseok and Jungkook are on media production for the indie movie company. Y/N and Seokjin, you guys are on clientele and coding. Everybody good before I go get more paper?”

“Yes, Tiny but Large Boss Man,” Jimin says, and it’s enough of a confirmation to send Namjoon scurrying down the corridor again in search of paper as everyone else returns to their prior business. 

“Y/N?”

You turn around from the font website you’ve been browsing for about half an hour to find Seokjin standing behind you, an earpiece in his ear and that charming smile on his face. It’s the same smile he gave you on your first day on the job when he was introducing himself, same smile he gives when he meets clients in person, same smile he gives Namjoon whenever the man is about to have a breakdown. It’s a friendly, personable-but-universal kind of smile. The kind models need. The kind that Seokjin has mastered. 

“Hey, Seokjin,” you say, only just then coming to realize that Seokjin is much closer to you than his voice originally implied. You’ve rotated 180 degrees in your office chair and he is hardly a foot away from where your feet are. It’s a lot. Seokjin is always a lot. In the best sort of way. “Is anything the matter?”

“No, just wanted to check in and see how the project was going for that one guy that wanted a nice advertisement to put on Angie’s List,” Seokjin says, leaning down to look at what you’ve been doing. 

“Oh, well I’ve been browsing this font website for ages and I still can’t find a nice one for the sub-heading. All of these are too flashy or difficult to read,” you say, beginning to scroll as you and Seokjin both look for one that you like. 

“Hmm, I see what you mean,” his voice sounds like honey and if you had any less dignity you’d let the chills send shivers down your spine. Luckily, you know how to maintain your composure in an office setting. And you also know that Yoongi and Jungkook would never let you hear the end of it, ever. “Oh, how about that one?”

“This one? Rose Quartz?” You ask, pointing to it. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin says. “It has a nice flair that matches with the font for the business name, but it’s still easy to read. It would probably look really nice with a crisp shadow behind it, don’t you think?”

“Maybe you’re onto something,” you say, clicking to read the fair use and copyright. 

“Couldn’t have done it without all the hard work you’ve put into this,” Seokjin says, standing up and shooting you another one of his famous smiles. “You’re the best partner anybody in this tiny media production and design company could ask for.”

He leaves without bidding you farewell, but it’s enough to have you staring blankly at your computer, contemplating existence itself. Sometimes, a little part of you wonders if Seokjin only treats you like this and none of your other coworkers, but then you immediately remember that Seokjin is naturally charming and that he probably speaks to newborn babies in the same way.

Yoongi wheels over to your desk from where his is, smirk lacing his features as he chews on another, different-colored Clif bar. 

“Ever heard of a personal bubble?” You ask snarkily, because you already know why he’s over here, and so does he.

“Why aren’t you asking the same question to Seokjin, hmm?” Yoongi taunts. He’s know about your dumb crush on your coworker (of all people, your coworker! A fellow employee!) for months now. He isn’t being any more helpful whatsoever. 

“Go watch your pirated anime,” you grunt out, too overwhelmed with the way Seokjin smiles at you to really give Yoongi your full attention. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Sure, but I’m not Seokjin,” Yoongi says. Then he wheels away and you’re left staring at the Rose Quartz font, whose sample text reads: This was meant to be. 

At least Namjoon doesn’t know.

It’s midnight on a Tuesday, and you’re just about to turn off the lamp on your bedside table and get some well deserved weekday-night shut eye when your phone begins to blare, a disgustingly ugly picture of Jungkook’s face appearing on the screen.

You stare at your phone like it’s personally offending you (which, if Jungkook’s face is anything to go by, it definitely is) before you turn off your ringer and close your eyes. Jungkook can wait. Very seldom is he at the top of your list of priorities.

Barely five seconds after you’ve put your head on your pillow, your phone begins to vibrate, this time even angrier than the last. Aggravated and a little concerned—because Jungkook never, ever calls twice—you pick up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Something crazy just happened!”

“I hope so, otherwise you wouldn’t be calling me at midnight on a work night,” you grumble into the phone, monotonous voice a stark contrast to Jungkook’s easily excitable one.

“Have you been on Kingdom recently?!” Jungkook asks, and you practically see his eyes bulging out of his head in front of you. One of your youngest coworkers, it’s moments like these that remind you why he bears a striking resemblance to a university student—up late playing video games even on a work night—despite having a couple years in the workforce under his belt. He keeps telling you that he wants to go back to school and get a Masters in something, but he isn’t sure what yet. 

“No,” you tell him like it’s obvious, because it is. You typically begin to wind down your night around ten, which means that anything that’s happened on Kingdom in the past two hours you are thoroughly unaware of. “Can’t this wait? Kingdom’s fun and all, but I really do need to sleep.”

“But Y/N,” Jungkook says with a whine, insisting that you stay on the line, “someone beat you! You’re rank two, now.”

If Jungkook’s loud voice and jumpy attitude didn’t wake you before, you’re certainly wide awake now.

“What?” You ask, shocked. “Just now?”

“Yeah, like fifteen minutes ago! I don’t know what happened,” Jungkook says sadly, lost. “I was dueling with another knight when the horns and banners appeared on the screen and said there was a new top player. You’ve been dethroned!” He cries out like it’s him who’s lost their place. 

You’re fumbling out of bed, making a beeline for your desktop computer across your bedroom. Normally, you’d be ashamed about how high-school you’re behaving around a video game, but you’ve invested an embarrassing amount of time and energy into Kingdom, and you’ll be damned if you think someone else can outdo you. 

As you’re logging onto the game, Jungkook continues to wail into the phone. “I don’t even know who this person is, I feel like I’ve never seen them before! I mean, they must be really good since they practically appeared out of nowhere, but still! I’m a decent player so we must have crossed paths. Maybe I just don’t remember…”

Sure enough, the moment you open your screen the horns blare and the banners appear, congratulating a different player on achieving the top rank. You watch helplessly as the celebration fades on your computer before the leaderboard appears in the top left corner, your name a sad second place. 

“Who’s JK0901?” You shout into the phone, earning an exasperated sigh from Jungkook on the other end. You scowl at the name that’s knocked you off your pedestal, before narrowing your eyes to look at it more closely. “JK? Is that you, Jungkook? Are you just calling me to make fun of me for beating me? Don’t disrespect your elders, Jungkook.”

Jungkook gasps like he’s been accused of murder. For people that take Kingdom as seriously as you and Jungkook, it may as well be. “No! What the heck, Y/N, you know that my username is KookieMonster97, for God’s sake. Accusing me of being the best, how could you?”

“You should have just taken the compliment,” you frown into the phone, “Now all the girls are gonna know you aren’t, in fact, the number one Kingdom player.”

“Fuck, you’re right,” Jungkook mutters. “But it’s not me, I swear. You would have received a very different phone call from me if it was. In fact, I probably wouldn’t have even told you and then ruined your day in the office tomorrow. So it’s not me.”

“I can’t tell if I’d be more or less angry if it was you,” you admit.

“Why, because I’d finally have something to hold over your head other than my unwavering youth?” Jungkook taunts. Definitely still a university student at heart. 

“No, because it means I’d have to hear the entire office praise you for a day, and I’d rather permanently pop my eardrums,” you tell him informatively. Jungkook has enough of a head. You actively try to not do anything to enlarge it unless he wholeheartedly deserves it. 

“I love our coworker chats, you know,” Jungkook says. “Whoever this person is though, I bet they’re receiving bucketloads of praise for knocking you off the top spot. You’ve had it for like, three months now, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” you tell him through gritted teeth. “I’ve put my blood, sweat, and tears into this game and look how it’s repaying me,” you grumble, staring down the Kingdom home screen. 

“JK0901 probably did a ritual sacrifice to beat you,” Jungkook supplies unhelpfully. 

You sigh. Whoever they are, they proved that they are just as good at Kingdom as you are, a veteran player with an embarrassing several years of experience under your belt. In fact, they proved that they’re better than you. 

♚ THERE ♚

It’s cloudy today, which means that more of the market stalls are out on the main street. You pass by them on your way to the castle, vendors calling out to you with promises of apples, jewelry, and perfumes. 

You’ve got money to burn and your responsibilities can wait a couple of minutes, so you indulge one of the stalls and purchase a couple of apples. One should give you a bit of energy now, and the rest can be roasted later for a better meal. 

“Miss Y/N, off to the palace?” The vendor asks. From how much you frequent this part of the kingdom, every artisan, farmer, and merchant alike knows your name. That, and the fact that you’ve amassed quite a group of followers from your daily knightly escapades. 

“Of course,” you respond happily, paying the merchant with a couple of silver coins and then some, just as a thanks. The extra money helps the farmers raise the quality of their crops and allows them to earn more for their efforts. It also boosts your standing amongst the townsfolk. “His Majesty requested my presence for further instructions on fortification, most likely. But I’m just honored to be recognized.”

“As you should!” The man responds dutifully. “You are our best knight, after all.”

“Please, you flatter me. When the work day is done, go home and feed your children well, alright?” You ask, giving a firm nod to the merchant before you’re on your way. As you stroll down the stone-paved path, other vendors call out to you, hoping that you, too, will indulge in their finest clothes and trinkets on your way to the castle. 

Maybe another day. 

You take a hearty bite of the apple as you head towards the palace, a satisfying crunch ringing through your ears as the townsfolk nod and bow to you. It’s easy to figure out that you’re the top-ranked knight in the kingdom, with badges of honor pinned to your torso, ink black armor clinging tightly to your body, and red sashes tied around the black ones on your wrist, signifying approval from the highest ranking military official in the kingdom: the king himself. 

The guards at the palace gates step aside as you nod to each other, bowing courteously. You repeat this process several more times as you slowly proceed towards the throne room, where the King (and maybe the Queen) are likely to be waiting for you. They had increased their security at every door frame after an attempted assassination several months ago, which you (with the help of other high-ranking knights and castle officials) discovered was a plot orchestrated by Their Majesty’s second-most-trusted advisor. 

Finally, you reach the golden arches that signify that you’ve arrived at the most expensive room in the entire palace (save for Her Majesty’s bathroom, which, though you have never been inside, is rumored to have a golden bathtub and sacred water from the River Blancheur, over two thousand miles away. But you cannot confirm nor deny.), threatening red doors slowly creaking open as the King and Queen come into view. 

They’re sitting on their thrones, as per usual, but they aren’t the only ones in the room like they normally are. Instead, there’s another knight, as equally decked out as you, standing before them, arms crossed behind their back. 

“We hope that you can wear these honors proudly and do your duties with pride,” the King says regally, deep, thick voice echoing throughout the room. 

“I will stop at nothing to ensure this kingdom’s greatness,” the knight says back, just as formal. The knight gives a long bow, red sashes around their wrist dangling towards the ground. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were being replaced. But of course, that’s not the case. 

“Oh, Y/N,” the Queen says happily, noticing your waiting right in front of the closed doors to the throne room. “Prudent, as always.”

“I aspire to please,” you say with a bow. The King gives you a warm smile, one you’re willing to bet that this other knight isn’t often on the receiving end of. 

“Your timing is impeccable,” the King says, ushering for you to come forward. You do so, taking calculated steps along the red carpet, woven nearly two centuries ago and maintained ever since. “We were just congratulating Sir JK on his recent accomplishments in the Black Forest.”

“Of course,” you say with a nod, refusing to turn to your left so you can stare down this Sir JK for yourself. “The military made groundbreaking strides for our kingdom there.”

“You are the first person to know this, other than him, of course, but we’ve decided to appoint him as the Head of the Royal Knights of the Kingdom of Kalar,” the King says proudly. 

It takes everything in your willpower not to let your mouth drop open. You blink rapidly, making sure that you aren’t in a daze nor still asleep. Sure enough, you’re wide awake and your ears and eyes seem to be working perfectly. The knight next to you is taking over the highest position a knight can hold in your kingdom, one that even you haven’t been given. 

You’ve been replaced. 

“What an incredible honor,” you say, body stiff. You can practically feel the ego of the knight next to you radiating off of him. It makes your nerves twitch. 

“I think so as well,” the King says proudly. He has, luckily, not picked up on your sudden mood change. “So, I’ve called you here to appoint you as his second-in-command.”

You bow graciously at his words, ensuring that, despite your bitter attitude, you are still thankful for this opportunity. Mostly. You are mostly thankful for this opportunity. 

“I’m honored and grateful, Your Majesties,” you say, head facing the carpet. “I would rather die than let down my kingdom.”

“You two are to work together closely,” the Queen advises, words that make your ears bleed. Oh, wonderful, now you have to work hand-in-hand with the person that stole your favor with the royal household right from underneath your feet? You can think of nothing more enjoyable. “Your cooperation alone will ensure the utmost safety and security of this kingdom.”

“We shall do better than our best,” the knight beside you says. His words make your eyes roll back into your head, but you’ve been a bigger brownnoser in your past. You can forgive that, even if the man next to you radiates an energy you’d rather not surround yourself with. 

“I’m pleased to hear it. Your training and work together begins now, so do not hesitate to get to know each other.”

You and him take one baited breath each before turning to each other. You both bow out of obligatory respect, which satisfies the King and Queen well enough. And as you come up, you catch a glimpse of each other’s eyes. His are dark, rounded pupils. They’re hiding something. 

You’re determined to figure out what it is. 

“Call me J,” the knight says the moment you’ve stepped foot outside of the palace. The setting sun shines dimly on the main road, and many of the vendors are beginning to pack up their belongings in order to head home. 

“Okay, J,” you say suspiciously. Everything about him unsettles you slightly. Perhaps it’s the fact that behind the armor and the mask and the badges, he’s extremely good-looking. Or maybe it’s the fact that he swiped the top-ranking knight position right from your fingertips. It must be that. “It’s baffling to me that we haven’t met yet. If you’ve been in such high favor with the King and Queen, then I must have seen you somewhere.” You wonder if he can hear the bitterness lacing your features. You sure hope that he can. 

“I guess our paths just never crossed,” J says, taking a bite out of a peach he just purchased from a farmer’s daughter, who was watching over the stall as her father haggled with another vendor. You watched as he winked to the girl as she gave him two peaches for the price of one. “I’m more on the ground than you are, am I not? You spend much of your time strategizing in the castle.”

“You don’t know what I do,” you huff out. He finishes the peach and wraps up the pip in a piece of cloth from his pocket before tucking it away. There is no place to dispose of it on the main street anyway. 

“Don’t I?” J says with a sly grin, one that makes you want to kick him in the shin and push him into the grass. “Everyone knows what you do, Y/N. You were the King and Queen’s favorite.”

The way he uses the past tense doesn’t go unnoticed by you. 

“But, as it seems, being on the battlefield outweighs directing it from above,” J says. He keeps his eyes off of you and his head held high while your gaze focuses in on him out of pure fury, just another way to hold his newfound superiority over your head. Five minutes next to him and he already seems to know how to push every single one of your buttons. 

“So it seems,” you say bitterly. 

“You and I really must get along, Y/N,” J says casually as you begin to stray from the hustle of the main street. Neither of you seem to have a particularly clear destination in mind, only a path that must be taken for the sake of the greater good. It’s only the prospect that if you do well enough, you’ll impress the King and Queen and regain your favor with them that’s keeping you from socking J in the face and dashing off, taking his second peach with you. “We’ll be spending lots of time together.”

“Doesn’t that sound like the bee’s knees,” you mutter to yourself. For the greater good. 

“Should it not?” J asks innocently. It makes you want to wipe that smirk right off of his face, that knowing tone in his voice. “I certainly don’t have a problem with you, Y/N. Do you happen to have one with me?”

He asks it because he knows that whatever you say will incriminate you. He knows that if you say no, you’re a goddamn liar, and that if you say yes, you’re weak. Weak because you’re admitting that you can’t handle spending time with him even though you have to. Weak because you’re showing him that he has power over you. 

“No, of course not,” you say, plastering the fakest smile on your face. Two can play at this game. “In fact, would it be alright if I had that other peach? I’m absolutely starving.” You can be civil. If he can, at least.

“Sure thing,” J says, unwrapping the peach from the woven napkin the farmer’s daughter gave him.

You reach out to take it from him, but in the blink of an eye his hand dangles it over your head, too far out of reach for you to grab without losing all of your dignity in the process. 

“What do we say, Y/N?” He asks sweetly, like a parent disciplining their child. God, everything he does absolutely aggravates you. 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. Perhaps you aren’t on the front lines as often as he is, but you sure know how to fight. Maybe now is a good time to remind him that you received the same training he did. 

“Please?” You ask, just as saccharine. 

“As you request, Y/N,” J says with a bow, finally handing it over. 

If this is what the next several months have in store for you, you wonder if maybe sinking down to a lower ranking might be worth it after all, especially if it means you’ll never have to see him and his bouncy hair and dark eyes again. 

You take a bite into the peach. It’s sour. 

Just your luck. 

♚ HERE ♚

When you walk into work the next day, a hush falls over the room. 

It’s not even as if the entire office has been quiet so far this workday, not as if the clock struck nine o’clock and everyone decided to start a competition to see who could shut up for the longest amount of time. 

(For the record, if anyone were to win that competition, it would be Yoongi, who usually only speaks either 1) when spoken to or 2) to let someone know when they’re being dumb via insult. The first person to lose would be Namjoon, because his job description is to boss people around. And he’s awfully good at it.)

The elevator door dinged on the twenty-third floor and you could hear Hoseok’s loud gasps and Jungkook’s cackled laugh even through the glass door that separates your office from the rest of the companies that take up residence in this particular city skyscraper. And then, as your loafers tapped on the hard linoleum floor and the glass door creaked open, the entire office fell silent. 

Quickly, you wonder if you’ve forgotten someone's birthday or if anybody’s due for a celebration of some sort. But nobody’s come to mind and the lights aren’t off, which means that this isn’t the kind of sudden silence that precedes a surprise party. 

This is the kind of sudden silence that makes everybody go, “Oh shit.”

It feels like you’re walking on eggshells as you make your way over to your desk. You’re a couple minutes late due to oversleeping (for reasons that start with J and end with -ungkook) so everybody’s already here, and the office should be as boisterous and rowdy as always. And yet, something’s different. 

You’re left entirely in the dark in concern with what the reasoning is, so you just decide that you’d rather not be the one to break the tense quiet that’s befallen your office and settle down, logging into your work desktop and checking today’s assignments on Slack. 

Five minutes pass and you can’t help but think that, of the many, many days you’ve spent in this office with these people, this has got to be the most awkward by an overwhelmingly long shot. Not even the time Namjoon showed up with his hair dyed purple and traces of a sharpie drawing with a certain phallic design on his cheek was more awkward than this. 

It seems that even Namjoon’s picked up on the vibe of your workspace today, walking in and out without a word. He wheels in a portable whiteboard from one of your meeting rooms and writes down everybody’s assignments on the board in his handwriting, which makes his O’s look like D’s. 

Ten minutes in and this is the quietest your office has ever been in the history of mankind, probably. You’re almost convinced that genuinely no one will speak to each other until five o’clock, when Jimin’s end-of-work alarm goes off and you all pack up and go home, and that today’s workday is an exercise in meditation and peace, two things that are seldom available in your usual office environment. 

And then, out of nowhere, 

“Oh my God, I can’t take it anymore,” Hoseok says loudly, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize he had been holding. It’s highly unlikely that Hoseok spent the past ten minutes holding his breath because he wasn’t allowed to talk under your office’s societal norm of silence, but you honestly can’t put it past him. Speaking is essentially the equivalent of breathing to him. “I’ve been wanting to bother Jimin for not responding to my email from yesterday for the past five minutes. I don’t even know why we’re doing this, it’s clear that Y/N doesn’t care at all about what happened.”

“What don’t I care about?” You blurt out, equally as curious as everyone else also seems to release their baited breaths. 

Hoseok and Jimin immediately begin to argue about appropriate email-response time between coworkers and Yoongi rolls a couple of feet over from his own desk to enlighten you. 

“Jungkook told everyone that you had been docked from your top rank in Kingdom, and the whole office seems to have taken it very seriously,” Yoongi mutters into your ear, making you scrunch up your nose in exasperation. Is he kidding? 

“That’s why everyone was so quiet? Because they didn’t want to bring it up?” 

“I guess so, but I was just quiet because it was nice to have the whole office shut up for a few minutes in the morning,” Yoongi says with a shrug before wheeling back to his own desk, where an anime you vaguely recognize as Haikyuu!! is playing on his monitor. 

Immediately, you whip around to meet eyes with Jungkook, who looks like he’s been expecting your furious glare all morning. He smiles guiltily and can offer you literally nothing other than a mouthed sorry because you two are in a workplace environment where shouting is, generally, socially unacceptable. 

Despite your standing on the game, it’s easy to argue and even easier to prove that your coworkers care much more about Kingdom than you do. The loading screen of the castle in Monet’s art style is Hoseok’s desktop background. Jungkook has a little sword decoration next to his computer, and a couple of his pens are official Kingdom merch that you’re pretty sure he purchased from Hot Topic. Taehyung and Jimin play during their lunch break, the only time in the workday where shouting is socially acceptable, and the both of them came to last year’s Halloween party dressed as knights. Even Namjoon’s in on the game, though he rarely has time to play and usually has no idea what everyone else is referencing when they talk about Kingdom. 

Contrastingly, you enjoy the game but very seldom do you actually broadcast that affection in public. You need to have at least some semblance of personal dignity in this absolute free-for-all of a place of employment. 

So really, it’s no wonder that all of your coworkers acted like it was the end of the world when you got knocked from first place. To them, that would be like having a winning lottery ticket only to drop it onto train tracks and watch as the public transportation system has a field day with it. 

“We’re really sorry, Y/N,” Taehyung says as he comes over and hands you a Tootsie Roll from the stash he keeps in one of his desk drawers for bad days. Apparently, this is a bad day. “Jungkook told us and we didn’t want to put salt in the wound.”

Even if their methodology was weird and slightly unsettling, the sentiment was there. “Thanks guys,” you tell Taehyung with a smile, “but I think you guys took it harder than I did.”

“Of course we did!” Jungkook says with a cry. He is objectively the most torn up out of the lot of you. “We had the top player in Kingdom in our very office, and now what! You were famous, Y/N! Whoever that bozo is who took your place is gonna feel the wrath of Jeon Jungkook and company.”

“Who’s feeling the wrath of Jeon Jungkook and company?” Seokjin asks as he strolls into the office, even later than you. To be fair, it’s looking like he’s got a box of a dozen Dunkin’ Donuts, which is enough for anyone to forgive him, even your hard headed boss. “Is it Jimin? Did he steal your Post-Its again? I saw he had a new pack.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen for barely a second before they narrow in on Jimin, who is already skirting away to find Namjoon so he can use him as a human shield. Jimin has quite the history of taking Jungkook’s office supplies only for a second and then failing to return it. 

“No, but I’m gonna deal with him later,” Jungkook says, fishing through his office supplies on the hunt for his Post-it notes, which may or may not be currently in his possession. “We were just talking about how Y/N got knocked from the top spot in Kingdom by some asshat none of us have ever heard of, and now he’s going to feel the wrath. Of us. Specifically me, but also us.”

“What wrath?” Taehyung jokes. “You’re fresh out of college. You’re practically as intimidating as a baby bunny.”

Jungkook growls just for emphasis, and it only proves Taehyung’s point more. He’s always had a baby face.  

“Well, I brought doughnuts to cheer everyone up,” Seokjin says, opening the box to reveal a dozen doughnuts of varying kinds that is likely to be finished within the next thirty seconds. 

“Oh my God, Kim Seokjin, I love you,” Hoseok says before immediately taking one and a half and bouncing off. 

“Save the pink-frosted one for me, will you? It’s my favorite,” Seokjin requests. He’s not even monitoring the box, too busy putting all his stuff away and getting settled at his desk. He’s basically asking to be robbed. 

“Aw, I wanted that one,” you joke sadly, already going for the chocolate-frosted one with rainbow sprinkles. The box is nearly three-fourths empty. Even Namjoon’s materialized out of nowhere to take the glazed one to eat while he completes the next fifty-four things on his to-do list. 

“Then let’s split it,” Seokjin says without missing a beat. Your heart does the exact opposite. 

“Jimin, you wanna split one with me?” Taehyung asks. 

“Ew, gross, no way, I want a whole one to myself,” Jimin immediately rejects. 

“I’ll go and grab it,” Seokjin says, standing up to nab the doughnut for some evil being (by the name of Jimin) takes it for himself. He plucks it from the box and takes two napkins, too, walking over to your desk as he splits the doughnut in half. 

“For you,” he says casually, like it isn’t making your heart beat out of your chest. 

“Thank you, kind sir,” you say jokingly, taking the doughnut and placing it on the napkin he hands to you. 

“Tell me about this Kingdom thing? You got knocked from first place?” Seokjin asks, making conversation as he lingers by your desk. It’s obvious that nobody’s going to be getting any work done. 

“Yeah, but it’s really nothing special. Everyone was making a huge deal out of it, which you should be very glad you missed, because the first ten minutes of this workday were absolutely silent and it was awful in every way that something can be awful,” you tell him. 

Seokjin laughs, and it warms you from the inside out. “Then I’m glad that I came late,” he says with a chuckle. “I couldn’t imagine a day where Jimin and Taehyung were silent for more than two minutes.”

“I lived through it,” you say, smiling. “Anyway, everyone seems to have gotten over the fact that I’m no longer the top-ranked Kingdom player. I’m kind of down about it myself, just because I worked really hard, but whoever it is that took over, I’m glad for them. I mean, it’s just a game.”

“That it is,” Seokjin says. “How about a toast to your Kingdom-playing skills, and to whoever it is that beat you.”

“Cheers,” you say, holding out your half of the doughnut. 

“Cheers,” Seokjin echoes. 

The two of you clink doughnuts, and they squish together awkwardly. 

“You should bring doughnuts more often,” You muse.

“If it means we don’t have to work and can just talk like this, then I will,” Seokjin says as he takes a bite, already heading back over to his own desk. He waves goodbye with a smile, and only then do you finally indulge. 

Sweet. As always. 

♚ THERE ♚

When you were moved to the Military Tactics Unit, the King and Queen pulled you out of military training in favor of you spending more time working on strategies for the Kingdom’s armies rather than sparring with fellow Knights. It was a wise move on the part of Their Royal Highnesses, who feared losing you to a rebel group or warring kingdom, and you didn’t mind not having to engage in the physicality of training with those that would be spending more time on the battlefield. 

And at the time, you saw it as a much-needed break from hand-to-hand combat training for years on end when you hadn’t set foot on the front lines in months. But now, that decision has decided to come back and bite you where it hurts. 

Because as second-in-command to the Head of the Knights, you (and J, both luckily and unluckily) are tasked with the important duty of supervising the military training of the new recruits. This spells doom in various ways, some of which include (and are not limited to):

Having to spend more time with J. 

Having to spend more time with J without letting all of the recruits know you both vastly dislike each other. 

Having to spend more time with J in a scenario in which there is constant hand-to-hand combat. 

Having to spend more time with J without being able to make up an excuse about needing to attend to urgent military business in order to leave. 

Having to spend more time with J. 

Attempting to remember how to spar.

So, in essence, you’re screwed. 

This is the mindset with which you walk into your very first training session in over six months, a few minutes late, of course. Recently you’ve been attempting to calculate the maximum amount of time you can spend either being tardy or leaving early from events that involve J without you facing any repercussions. So far it’s been working out well. 

When you walk in the door, before you can greet any of the recruits or even offer J a slightly sarcastic wave, he says, “Look who’s finally shown up,” loud enough for all of the recruits to turn to look as you stroll in tardy. 

“I got held up by a vendor on the main road, my apologies,” you lie like a liar. It’s obvious that J does not believe you whatsoever, but it satisfies the recruits, who return to their business as usual. 

“Well, you’re just in time for warm-up,” J says, false positivity radiating throughout every single word. 

You walk up to where he stands at the front of the room, wearing much less of his official armor than he normally is. Right now, he stands in front of you in a plain tan cotton shirt and training pants, similar to the rest of the recruits. It’s really quite jarring, to see him dressed so differently from what he usually wears—dark armor and scarlet red sashes. It makes him seem… almost softer. 

“Thought you might have bailed on me,” J mutters into your ear as the recruits begin to stretch. 

“Have a little more faith in me, for God’s sake,” you grumble in return. You may not like him, but you aren’t about to abandon your responsibilities just because of a little bit of distaste. 

“Do you wanna take warm-up, or should I?” He offers, motioning to the recruits. They all look so nervous, so desperate to prove themselves on the first day of training. It reminds you of yourself, like you’re looking into a mirror and a time machine all at once. 

“You’re the boss,” you say, unabashedly letting the bitterness seep through your tone. “You choose.”

Unsurprisingly, J decides to let you handle the warm-up session, something that is just a precursor to the main event and therefore, not as important. He takes a couple of steps back and follows your instructions as you go through stretches and basic movements in combat, allowing all of the recruits to get a feel for what knighthood is really like in the Kingdom of Kalar. Warm-up was always your least favorite part during training, so boring in comparison to the sparring and hand-to-hand combat that you would engage in soon after. Sure, it was necessary, but when you were a wide-eyed, overeager trainee, you were willing to risk a pulled muscle if it meant you could beat someone up sooner. 

With this in mind, you wrap up the session in a fairly timely manner, letting the recruits do their own stretching after everything absolutely necessary has been covered. It also means that you can sit back and let J do most of the heavy lifting, which, while you’re bitter about him getting all of the attention, is better than having to do it yourself based solely upon memory. You remember combat well enough to handle yourself in the battlefield, but the technicalities of training have completely slipped your memory by now. 

J and everything else about him may leave a sour taste in your mouth, but you have to admit that he’s a good teacher and an even better morale booster. This must come from his experience out in the field, on the front lines, where raising his troops’ spirits came as a necessary quality to develop when times were tough. 

He speaks slowly, explains everything in enough detail to cover all of the bases without losing attention, and frequently opens up the floor for questions. And as per usual, the recruits already begin to cling to him like vines, desperate to soak up every ounce of knowledge that he doles out. 

J doesn’t need the ego boost, that’s for certain. 

“Now that I’ve gone through everything, I believe that the best way to learn how to spar is just to start doing it, even if you haven’t the slightest clue what you’re doing. Despite what you may think about me, experience is the best teacher,” he says with a smile, earning a laugh from the crowd. 

You roll your eyes. 

“Um, sir?” A timid recruit raises her hand, her body curled in on herself. You take one look at her, and know that she’ll come out of her shell soon enough. 

“Yes, a question?” J asks. 

“Would you mind giving a demonstration? Just so we can watch. So we, well, don’t injure ourselves or each other while we’re sparring.”

A demonstration? You blink, having awoken from the trance you had placed yourself in one J stepped up to take over the training session. Doesn’t a demonstration mean… well, you and him?

J seems to come to this realization at the same time that you do, and grins wildly, giddy. He knows exactly how much you’ll hate doing this, which is all the more reason to say yes. “Of course, we’d be happy to. Y/N?”

You hold in the sigh you’ve been wanting to let out for about five minutes now, taking a deep exhale as you turn to face J. You’ve been in close proximity to him before, but you are about to get a whole lot closer. 

“If you say so,” you say with a shrug, trying to keep this as lighthearted and casual as possible. Though, both of those things are likely to be tossed out the window now that you’re about to spar with your worst enemy. 

J grabs a mat from the side of the room to lay down on the floor in front of you, and the two of you step onto it. Instantly, you’re transported back to when you were still in training, bouncing up and down on your feet with your fists raised in front of you, ready to take on the next recruit. You had always been quite good at sparring, back then. 

Now is a completely different story. 

“Are you ready?” J asks as you face each other in front of a crowd of recruits, all of whom are watching you with hawk-like intensity. 

“Guess I can’t say ‘no’, can I?” You joke, though if J offers you a way out of this, you’d gladly take it, shame and dignity be damned. 

“Well then, do your worst.”

He’s an open target. You’ve never been given an opportunity to sock him in the face before now, and you’d absolutely love to take it, but this is a sparring session, not a revenge session. That can be saved for a later date. Instead, you bounce on your feet like a nervous, excitable recruit, and aim for his neck. 

He easily dodges, but you expected that, and counter his attack with your leg. It goes back and forth like this, as your muscle memory kicks in and you remember exactly what sparring was like back in your training sessions. For a few seconds in the middle of it, you genuinely think you and him are on a pretty level playing field. 

And then—

One punch gone wrong and he’s got you lifted up off of the ground and onto his back, having grabbed your wrist at the perfect time to hoist you over his shoulder. You gasp in shock, body not necessarily remembering this part, and then—

He slams the both of you down onto the mat, your back hitting the cushion with a thud as the breathe gets knocked from your lungs. You definitely haven’t done this part in a while. 

You know the recruits are all watching you intently, but you refuse to lose like this, even if this is normally the part where the person pinned underneath the other one surrenders. With both of your arms and all of your force, you attempt to shove J off of you by using your elbow to punch him in the chest. If you go down (which you most certainly will), you will go down with a fight. 

He sees your move coming from a mile away, and immediately pins both of your arms above your head with a simple swish of his hand. The other one is holding up his body by your head as you both stare at each other, breathing heavily. His leg sits in between both of yours, resting up against your thigh, and his head hovers a very dangerous less-than-three inches away from your own. If a particularly near-sighted person were to stumble upon the both of you, you’d be absolutely screwed. 

The both of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a second, the wind knocked out of you. You never quite realized what his face looks like up close. His cheeks are bright red. But it’s a second too long because the recruits have gone silent, refusing to applaud or do anything else to signal that the sparring match is over. 

And then, it feels like a million years pass as J slowly removes himself from on top of your body, standing up and dusting his hands off before leaning down and offering his hand to help you up. Too floored and absolutely speechless to reject his extended palm like you normally would, you grab onto his hand and let him hoist you up, unable to speak. 

“How was that for a demonstration?” J asks the recruits, who are all blinking like they’ve just witnessed something far too shocking for their liking. 

Another trainee, a boisterous young man who walked into today’s session with his energy fully up and his eyes on the prize, raises his hand. “Could you show us again?”

You and J take one look at each other. 

No. Way. 

♚ HERE ♚

Because your office is both tightly knit and also uncannily resembles a cast of grown adults playing various high school stereotypes in a Hallmark movie, every year you do Office Superlatives. Office superlatives are basically an excuse for everyone to come up with a way to insult each other 1) while getting paid to do so and 2) without facing any repercussions whatsoever. 

For three years in a row, your office has designated you as “Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Really Important”, a superlative that came about because on your very first day, you spilled your coffee on the one and only Kim Namjoon, who you then mistook as your boss, and thus ensued the most embarrassing one minute and thirteen seconds of your entire life in front of a bunch of colleagues you would have to see every weekday for the foreseeable future. 

Thankfully, you haven’t spilled your coffee on anyone important since then, even if you do regularly knock over your pencil cup and send every pastel-colored highlighter flying across the hardwood floor. It became such a frequent occurrence that, for April Fool’s Day last year, Taehyung and Jimin taped every single thing on your desk to your desk to see how long it would take you to notice. 

(It took you over three weeks, but that’s besides the point.)

“I know that the saying is ‘the customer is always right’, but this client I’m working with right now is literally wrong,” Taehyung says with a sigh. He collapses back in his office chair, mindlessly playing with the fur of the stuffed Pomeranian dog he keeps on his desk, staring down the email on his desktop. “Like, I’m not Squarespace or Wix. Either you pay me to design your website entirely, or you do it yourself. I’m not a drag-and-drop of a person, and I don’t get paid to be consulted on every font choice.”

“Didn’t you write on your resume that you can identify every standard Microsoft font without being told the name?” Yoongi asks with a frown from across the office. He’s making the most of his gigantic desktop computer, and has a tab open with One Punch Man right next to a Photoshop logo design he’s working on. 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I want to do it,” Taehyung says with a frown. “I need someone who knows how to let people down easily.”

“Jimin?” Hoseok pipes up unhelpfully, earning an eraser to the face from Jimin, who is notorious for going on a bunch of first dates and very, very seldom going on a second one. You don’t even think that for the entire time you’ve known him, he’s ever gone a third date with someone. Ever. 

“Do not make fun of my lifestyle choices!” Jimin shouts out defensively. “I just like meeting new people.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok says like a white girl in a Disney Channel Original Movie, “and then never meeting them again.”

“That’s where you’re mistaken,” Jimin tells him pointedly, already beginning to stand up from his office chair to attempt to further convince him that serial-first-dating isn’t all that bad. “Two weeks ago, I saw this guy that I had gone on a date with last year and he told me that his friend was starting up a small pet barbershop business and needed help with the graphic design for his company. Now I’m designing this guy’s logo and backsplash for his wall.” He says matter-of-factly. 

Hoseok frowns. “So, what I’m hearing is that you saw a guy you had gone on a date with last year, and what you got out of it, was more work.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something else, but he flounders. Hoseok cackles to himself, shaking his head because Jimin’s just proved his point further. 

“I’ll ask Seokjin,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “He could tell me that I’ve lost my job and that I’m getting evicted from my apartment and I would thank him.”

Amen. 

“Hey, where is Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, spinning around in his office chair for the most efficient way to scan the entire office in search of the man. “He was just here watching One Punch Man with Yoongi.”

“I didn’t even notice he had gotten up,” Yoongi says, turning to the empty spot next to him where Seokjin once was. 

“I’ll go look for him, I need to grab something from the printer, anyway,” you volunteer, pushing your chair back, standing up, and avoiding the gazes of anybody in the office who happens to have knowledge of your not-so-secret secret crush. This means that you are staring down at the lines of the wooden planks in the floor as you walk over to the back hallway, because every single person in the room currently has at least… well… some insight. 

“He’s all yours, Y/N,” Taehyung wolf whistles, making you roll your eyes as you head down the hallway.  

Too busy counting the planks that make up the hardwood floor and hoping that you’ll maybe be able to identify Seokjin by the shoes he’s wearing rather than anything else, you don’t look at where you’re going as you make a beeline for the printing room. That is, you make a beeline for the printing room until you crash right into an unsuspecting colleague. 

“Oh, shit!” Said colleague cries out.

Oh God. 

You look up to find Seokjin standing in front of you, a nearly-empty cup of low-grade office coffee in his hand, and a growing brown stain on his pale blue dress shirt. One look on the floor and there’s a puddle of coffee gathered at your feet, wet splotches on your flats and his loafers. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide and apologetic as he immediately searches for some place to put down his coffee to avoid any more casualties. He looks right at you, making you want to curl in on yourself, before his eyes train down to your torso.

Only then do you realize he’s not shamelessly staring at your chest, but rather at the massive brown stain on the front of your blouse, quickly seeping into the fabric, the scalding temperature of the coffee having gone right over your head the moment you realized who exactly it was that you crashed into. 

“Uh…” you stammer, brain crashing as everything that’s just happened in the past thirty seconds catches up to you all at once. 

“Oh my God, I’m such a mess,” Seokjin says, fumbling awkwardly as he finally finds a trash can to toss his sad lump of a coffee cup into.

No you’re not, you want to tell him, but the words don’t come out and you’re left standing there, looking sort of like you blame him for everything, when in reality, you just have no idea how to function in front of him. 

“Coffee stains,” Seokjin says, hands fishing through his seemingly bottomless pants pockets (he could probably fit an entire Nintendo Switch and its dock in there) until he pulls out this measly little thing that vaguely resembles your orange highlighter. “Here, I have a Tide To-Go pen.”

Before you can tell him that you can just deal with the stain and wash it in the privacy of your own home where you don’t look like a bumbling idiot, he grabs your hand and pulls you into the gender neutral bathroom nearby, locking the door as the light flickers on. 

“Here, do you need help?” Seokjin asks, holding out his Tide To-Go pen as he wets a paper towel made of entirely recycled materials and begins fruitlessly dabbing at his shirt. 

“I’m alright, really,” you insist, staring into the mirror and trying desperately to avoid the fact that Seokjin’s shirt becomes transparent when it’s wet. Maybe quitting your job and moving to another city doesn’t sound unappealing after all. “I can just get it out with OxiClean at my apartment, Seokjin, seriously.”

“Are you sure? That’s what the Tide To-Go pen is for,” Seokjin says, holding it out towards you again as a final attempt to get you to use it. 

“No offense, Seokjin, but I don’t know if the Tide To-Go pen is even going to make a dent in the stain on my shirt,” you chuckle, the only thing you can think of to get him to stop offering the thing to you. The Tide To-Go pen is meant for when you accidentally get a bit of ketchup onto your jeans as you move the french fry from your plate to your mouth. Not when you’ve got a giant coffee stain on the front of your shirt. 

“God, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Seokjin says, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt to try and get a better grip on the fabric as he relentlessly scrubs at it. God help you. He may as well take the whole thing off at this point—though you really, really hope that he doesn’t. “I’m such a klutz.”

“No, it’s my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you tell him. You still know that you passed by 107 wooden planks before you crashed into him, because that is what you do when you don’t want to look anyone in the eye. 

“Seriously, though, I had the cup of coffee. I feel really bad, I could pay to get it dry cleaned for you?” He offers, eyes wide and in search of some way to make it up to you. 

“No, no, that’s not necessary. I’m can handle a stain, Seokjin. I’m an adult. I live in my own apartment and everything,” you say firmly, refusing to accept anything else from him. God, if he paid for your dry-cleaning, you’d never be able to live that down. “Maybe I’ll finally stop being voted Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Important,” you joke, trying to make light of the fact that you’re standing in the tiny gender-neutral bathroom together, Seokjin’s practically got half of his transparent dress shirt unbuttoned, and you both have massive and very conspicuous brown stains on your tops. All wonderful, wonderful things. 

At this point, Seokjin stares down at his shirt and, quite frankly, just gives up, smoothing out his shirt as best as he can and tossing the poor, now-coffee-colored paper towel away. 

“I suppose it’s high time we give you a break for always knocking over that pencil cup of yours,” Seokjin jokes back as he opens the door, motioning for you to leave first. 

“We should invest in some Velcro for it,” you suggest, making Seokjin chuckle as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Uh… what the fuck?” 

The two of you are stopped in your tracks by a particularly suspicious Taehyung, who just witnessed the two of you walk out of the same bathroom with both of your clothes fairly askew. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” you immediately tell him, eyes wide. Count on him to get the wrong idea. 

“Okay,” Taehyung says, eyes narrowed. “Sure.”

“Taehyung, come on, I spilled coffee on the both of us,” Seokjin attempts, but Taehyung is absolutely not having it. 

“That’s what they all say,” he says cryptically, nodding as he heads to the printer room with his eyes still narrowed. He glares at the both of you until he rounds the corner, out of sight, and by then your cheeks have heated up so badly you think you might actually start sweating.

“Now the whole office is going to think we’re dating,” you say, somewhat jokingly but also somewhat seriously. There’s no way Taehyung’s going to be able to keep his mouth shut for any longer than the next five minutes. 

Seokjin laughs, looking at you and shrugging. “There are worse things, right?”

Are there?

♚ THERE ♚

“Oh, Y/N!”

You inhale. 

Of all of the places in the Kingdom that J has not yet infiltrated and ruined for you, the small cafe on the edge of the kingdom borders has to have been the last one. You discovered it while you were on night watch as a baby knight, a task given to those too dedicated to the job to release but not yet prepared enough to fight on the front lines. It’s a quiet place, open more hours of the day than closed, owned by an old lady with no other family to take care of the business. You’ve already promised her that after she passes, you will immediately begin funding the cafe yourself, too much money on your hands and not enough wonderful places like this to spend it on.

When days are loud and hectic, when the King and Queen and all of their military advisors are stressed and have been snapping at you all day, this is where you come. The old lady keeps her door open especially for you (at least that’s what she tells you), always with a steaming cup of jasmine tea and a wise old story to tell you. Sometimes, you’ll get to tell a story back, and you exchange words of wisdom from a knight at the highest ranking in the kingdom and an elder with many years of experience in the kingdom behind her. She always tells you, “keep your eyes wide and your heart open, because things can only enter it if you’re looking out for them.”

You’ve held those words close to your soul ever since the first time you heard them. 

But when your eyes are wide and staring down a certain knight in the kingdom who seems to have stumbled upon your one sacred place, you’re a little bothered, to say the least.

You exhale.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you say sourly, the scalding tea burning your tongue as you take a sip. 

“I’ve never seen this place before,” J admits helplessly, already bowing to the old lady who runs the place. He introduces himself handsomely, and much like everyone else bewitched by his good looks and unrealistically charismatic personality, she immediately warms up to him. 

“I wish it could stay that way,” you mumble to yourself, far too quiet for anyone except you and your tea to hear. “It’s far away,” you say to him as the lady ushers him to the seat next to yours, already promising him tea on the house. You sigh. “Wouldn’t expect you to go hunting for a nice tea place when there are so many wonderful places in the city.”

“I guess it’s nice to branch out,” J says with a shrug. “I have to say that I don’t really go out to cafes all that often. Too busy.”

“You know I understand how that goes,” you tell him honestly. For once, it’s something you can actually relate to. “But I think that it’s important to take a break from our duties and just relax. We don’t have much time to do that, you know.”

The lady brings over tea, and J insists he pay her for it despite her insistence for him not to. She shuffles off into the back before he can even get out some coins.

“Tell me, where can I leave this? I feel terrible not paying,” J asks you. It catches you off guard, really, mostly because he seems to be the kind of person who walks around the center square winking at every vendor in the hopes of receiving free merchandise. 

“Oh,” you say, embarrassingly speechless. “Well, I suppose I could take it and give it to her. If we left rather soon then we could simply leave it on the counter for her to find. It’s likely that she won’t come back out for a while, since I have company.”

“Am I your company, Y/N?” J asks, almost teasingly. It makes you want to chuck your cup of jasmine tea into his face. 

“Don’t think too much of it,” you advise him, a warning to tell him to knock it off. “We’re just here together.”

“Lucky us,” J says, holding up his cup of tea for a toast. You indulge him (begrudgingly so), letting your glasses clink together as you both finish a much needed warm drink on a chilly afternoon. 

Too soon, the respite of the cafe is broken by a knock at the door. You both turn to find a messenger waiting patiently outside the cafe, motioning for J to come and speak to him. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” J says, scooting back his chair and heading over, shutting the door behind him. 

The moment the door closes, the old lady reappears from the back of the room, collecting your finished cups as you both listen intently to the murmuring outside. 

“That young man mentioned that the two of you spend lots of time together,” the muses, cleaning the cups with a wet rag. She’s got a knowing look in her eye, like she’s picked up on something the both of you seem to have overlooked. 

“We’re both knights,” you correct. It’s important to you that she knows that you don’t spend time together out of personal preference. It’s merely obligation. “So we see each other quite often.”

“I’ve never seen him around before,” she says pointedly, “but he seems to know quite a lot about you.”

“Oh, not really,” you insist. How could he? You’ve barely known him a month. Still, it’s clear that the lady doesn’t believe you. 

“As you say,” she says, skeptical. 

You’re about to open your mouth and reject her notions further, but then the door opens up again, and J looks terribly apologetic as he walks inside, joining your side. “We’ve been called in.”

As per usual, the Kingdom appears with impeccable timing to ruin the rest of your afternoon. It has a striking tendency to do that. 

“For what?” You ask, exasperated. J doesn’t look much happier. 

“Criminal hearings,” J says, and the words make you you toss your head back and sigh. 

Criminal hearings and its many, many procedures are quite possibly your least favorite part of being a top-ranked royal knight. With your knowledge of the ins and outs of the military and the kingdom’s inner workings, as well as with you being an advisor to the generals and the King and Queen, you are often obligated to attend these, just in case there is a desperate need for the technicalities of military crimes that no one else can provide. It is, admittedly, extremely boring, since you can’t really offer any sort of insight or opinion on the actual criminal and their crime at hand. 

“Fine,” you say, suddenly much less energized than you were approximately thirty seconds ago. “I suppose that we’ll have to be on our way.”

“Ma’am,” J says, attracting the attention of the old lady behind the counter. He holds out some coins, palm facing up. “Please accept this from me. I couldn’t leave without paying you for your wonderful tea and service.”

“Oh, pish posh,” the lady says with a shake of her hand. “Any friend of Y/N’s is well-deserving of some tea. You both work very hard. You should take any opportunity that presents itself to relax, and enjoy being young.”

“Please,” J insists, placing the coins in her hand, “a token of my gratitude. We shall return soon, right Y/N?” He gives your shoulder a nudge, making you look up at him. Return? You’d be blessed if J forgot about this place entirely, though you know that he’s bound to come back soon. 

Perhaps there are worse things than losing your favorite cafe to him. Perhaps, you can simply learn to enjoy his company, instead. 

“Of course, how could I resist?” You say, waving goodbye to the lady at the counter. “We really must be going, but I shall see you soon.”

“Take care of yourselves, the both of you!” She sees you off with a smile and a wink directed right at you for a cause you aren’t too keen on picking up. Old ladies are always so vague. 

When you walk outside, you’re surprised to find yourselves alone. “Where’s the messenger guard?” You ask, looking around to see if he’s found a tree to take respite from the sun under. 

J laughs, warm and hearty. “I sent him off, told him we would be able to make it ourselves.”

“Oh, alright,” you say with a shrug, already beginning to trudge the familiar path towards the castle. 

You take six steps before realizing that J is neither next to you nor following you, still standing on the porch of the cafe as the sun makes his hair glimmer a dark caramel in the light. 

“Aren’t you coming?” You turn around to ask, an eyebrow raised as you tap your foot on the cobblestone road. 

“Have you ever skipped a criminal hearing before, Y/N?” J asks, and the very notion of bailing makes your eyes go wide. 

“Skipped?” You clarify. 

“That’s what I said,” J confirms. 

“No…” You trail off, feeling more and more like the try hard you once were while training, wide-eyed and eager to prove yourself. Standing in front of him, rocking back and forth on your toes and twiddling your fingers as he steps off of the porch, taking long strides to reach you, makes you feel so nervous. With every step he takes closer to you, your heart begins to beat faster, faster, faster. 

“Well,” J says, reaching out his hand to take hold of your own. “Would you like to start?”

When you were stationed on the Kingdom’s borders, you thought you had explored every nook and cranny of Kala. You had wandered through forests, across rivers, and into small edge villages with goods you had never even heard of before. You thought you had seen it all. 

Clearly, you were mistaken. 

J pulls you off of the cobblestone path and immediately takes you into the woods that surround the cafe, weaving past trees and ferns and grass alike. This time of year, the forest is ripe with greenery, right when summer is coming to an end but the leaves have yet to begin to fade to brown. Even without landmarks or a path to guide him, J seems to know exactly where the two of you are going, like he’s taken this road a million times before. And still, you had never seen him before this. 

It’s a wonder that the two of you missed each other for so long. 

“Where are we going, J?” You ask, laughing as the exhilaration of skipping your duties in favor of a fun day in the forest begins to flow through your veins. You’ve never done this before. 

“Just wait, you’ll see,” he says cryptically, taking you down a large hill. You must be out of the Kingdom borders by now, with how far you’ve been going, and yet, no one had ever thought to place guards in this area. 

Five more minutes of travelling and you’re near convinced that J is about to take you to some cave in the floor of the forest and murder you, when he tugs you up a hill to reveal—

It’s a clearing with grass so green you’d almost think it was enchanted. The leaves of the trees whisper to each other, voices flowing with the wind that breezes by each and every one, saying hello to the branches as they rustle. Tall grass and ferns grow on the edge of the forest, disguising the clearing to anyone who wouldn’t bother to keep looking, make their way through the overgrowth and into the oasis. 

Never in a million years would you have been able to find this place on your own. 

“What do you think?” J asks excitedly as he pulls you into the middle of the clearing, where the leaves of the trees have left an opening for the sun to shine through, a halo in the middle of the forest. 

“I—I’m speechless,” you say, eyes wandering from every piece of bark to every blade of grass. You’ve always loved your Kingdom and its beauty, from the extravagant castle to the little shacks on the border, but this is more than that. This isn’t just beauty—it’s magic. “How did you find this place?”

“Strayed from the pack during military training outside,” he says guiltily. Clearly, skipping out on responsibilities has become a habit of J’s. 

“Unbelievable,” you say, fingers tracing along the wildflowers growing close to the forest floor. You take a seat in the middle of it all, letting the sun stream through the leaves as the flowers open their petals at your touch. It’s as if every single living thing has been enchanted—like none of this could exist naturally. 

“Do you like it?” J asks, taking a seat on the stone next to you. He reaches down to run his fingers through the grass, letting the soft dirt gather on his skin. 

“I don’t think I have the words,” you tell him. You thought you had found a hidden respite from the hustle and bustle, but he has found not just a respite. He’s found a home. “Why would you show me this place?”

“What do you mean?” J asks. He finds a small yellow flower, a buttercup, and plucks it from the ground, twirling it between his fingers.

“I mean, why would you bring me here? Wouldn’t you want to keep this place all for yourself?” You inquire, curious. Certainly, that’s what you would do. 

J pauses for a moment, staring down at the buttercup in his hands. Wordlessly, he hands it to you, watches as your fingers touch his own, taking the buttercup from him. You twirl it between your fingers, and wonder what all of this means. 

“No,” he eventually answers. “Because a place like this deserves to be shared with the people that deserve to see it.”

♚ HERE ♚

[You have 5 unread messages]

Jungkook (5:53PM): Is it still acceptable to talk about Kingdom at company dinners? Jungkook (5:53PM): Is the ban that Yoongi instated last company dinner still going? Do you think he’ll be mad if I talk about how I just got a bunch of gold from solving the mystery of the time capsule?

Yoongi (5:55PM): If I have to sit through another company dinner where everyone is talking about Kingdom and nobody is talking about anime or my dog Holly I will lose it

Taehyung (5:57PM): You’re coming, right? You mentioned having a thing that ended pretty late this evening so you weren’t sure you’d make it

Seokjin (6:03PM): Excited to see you tonight! Promise I won’t spill anything on you tonight haha

Your office’s annual company dinner is the one and only opportunity you, as employees, get per year to talk about whatever you like in front of your colleagues, all while getting a meal paid for by your wonderfully unassuming, hardheaded boss. It is both a celebration of camaraderie and, of course, being employed, and a chance for your personal group to talk about Kingdom for two hours straight without repercussions. 

Needless to say, many of you are looking forward to it. 

To Jungkook (6:07PM): Yes, but only if we get to talk about how I’m still the best at the game out of everyone To Jungkook (6:07PM): Also, don’t forget to talk to Yoongi about My Hero Academia I know that you secretly love it

To Yoongi (6:08PM): Bring earplugs? Or maybe a manga book to get the conversation going?

To Taehyung (6:08PM): Yeah, I’ll be there To Taehyung (6:08PM): Probably be late though To Taehyung (6:09PM): Save me a seat!

To Seokjin (6:10PM): Not sure if I can promise the same thing! Fingers crossed we make it out tonight unscathed by scalding hot liquids

The company dinner starts at 6:30, which means that it really starts at 7:00 by the time everyone arrives, but even still, you’ll probably be late because you are actually doing last-minute laundry, and not attending a special event like you had told Taehyung. Sue you. Your clothes were dirty. 

Standing in the middle of your apartment wearing the slouchiest clothes you own, you wonder if it’s even worth going when you know that you will probably 1) be late and 2) have to endure two hours worth of Kingdom talk and other things that leave you thoroughly embarrassed, like your nonexistent love life. 

You’ve never skipped out on a company dinner before, but then again, never have all of your colleagues been so on top of you about your very insignificant, not at all soul-crushing, extremely minimal, super unimportant, tiny little infatuation with a certain coworker, so there’s that to consider. 

Not to mention the fact that your entire office genuinely believes that the two of you hooked up in the gender neutral bathroom during the middle of the workday, which is a circumstance so improbable you have no idea how Taehyung managed to convince everybody that that was actually what happened. It’s not as if your coworkers didn’t see the ridiculous brown stains on the front of your and Seokjin’s shirts, or didn’t smell the office coffee stench all over the both of you. 

So, for once in your life, you are genuinely considering just staying at home, finishing your laundry, and eating the frozen veggie burritos you bought from Costco two weeks ago. It sounds very tempting.

This thought is immediately combated by the fact that you usually have some of the most fun during the year at this company dinner, and a free meal at a nice, upscale restaurant is something that you would normally never pass up. But then again, Seokjin will be there and he will be dressed very nicely, and the rest of your coworkers will also be there, and they will be relentless. 

Jungkook (6:33PM): Tae said you’d be late but please come soon! We can’t talk about Kingdom without the best player present!!!! Jungkook (6:33PM): Oh no Namjoon sees me with my phone

And out of every possible text you could have received that night, that one is the one that convinces you to pull out the same dress you’ve worn to the company dinner (it’s not as if anyone else will remember) every other year, tug it on, and head out. Your Costco veggie burritos will have to wait for another stay-at-home night. 

You arrive fashionably late as always, walking into the restaurant and just asking for directions to where the “big group of loud office workers” is, a term easily identifiable by the scrambled hostess with fifteen different tables to seat all at once. She points you to the back room, where you can already hear Hoseok’s laughter from outside in the main dining area. 

“You guys are loud,” you say in lieu of a greeting, everyone letting out cries of “Y/N!” and “You made it!” as you look around for the last empty seat. 

“Here, saved you a spot right next to me,” Seokjin volunteers helpfully, motioning to the empty velvet chair next to him. In the seat next to that sits Taehyung, who is grinning guiltily, like he didn’t just dupe you into thinking he had saved you a seat next to him and someone else other than the person you were hoping not to embarrass yourself in front of. 

“Thinking of me when I’m not even here, how thoughtful,” you say, walking over and sending a glare Taehyung’s way as you take your seat, the glass at the top right corner of your placemat already filled. 

“How could we forget about you?” Seokjin reasons, and he says it so casually but it makes your heart flutter all the same. 

When Seokjin’s finally started talking to Hoseok and Jimin on his other side, the two of them attempting to explain the inner workings of Kingdom to him (to little avail, as per usual), you round on Taehyung, who is every bit the best wingman and the worst friend in the entire world. 

“How could you do this to me?” You hiss at him, trying not to attract the attention of the man sitting on the opposite side of you. 

“I said I had saved you a seat!” Taehyung says defensively, clearly enjoying himself way too much. 

“This was not what I had in mind,” you tell him pointedly. 

“Obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t have hidden it from you,” Taehyung says. He motions to Seokjin, who’s laughing at something that Jimin’s just said, eyes crinkled into half moons as the waiter places the cocktail he’s ordered down in front of him. “You know, it’s not so bad having a crush on him, right?”

“He is our coworker and way out of my league, of course it is,” you remind Taehyung. 

Taehyung shrugs you off with a wave of his hand. “Give yourself some credit, Y/N. You’re hot. Embrace it.”

“I will not, thank you very much. This conversation makes me want to hurl,” you say as normally as possible, blinking to show your discomfort to Taehyung. 

“You need to stop being so afraid of what might actually come out of this,” Taehyung says, a reassuring hand on your arm. “You never know what might happen.”

“What’s definitely going to happen is that I’m going to feel too cold from the vent above my head, and we’re going to switch seats,” you say. You immediately make to stand up, but Taehyung grabs onto your wrist and looks up at you like a child begging for candy in a supermarket. 

“Please, Y/N? Just give it a try, and if you hate it by the time the entree comes around, we can switch. Alright?” He asks, a simple compromise to get you to sit back down. 

You sigh. You suppose it wouldn’t hurt to shoot your shot, no matter how terrible your aim is. 

“I didn’t order any soup, so hopefully we can last through this dinner without ruining more of our clothes,” Seokjin says, an icebreaker to ease the obvious tension between the two of you. He breaks down your walls so easily, carves out a path in the side of it to waltz right through. 

“I don’t know,” you say sarcastically,” you better finish that cocktail soon or we might both be in big trouble.”

Seokjin chuckles, warm and full, and takes another sip of the fruity drink for good measure. “Don’t know how you keep getting crowned Most Likely to Spill Coffee on Someone Important when I’m here, a walking coffee volcano.”

“When the superlatives roll around, I’ll petition the court and see if we can crown you instead,” you promise. 

“I’m honored. I’ll cherish that title for as long as I live,” Seokjin jokes, bowing to you just for good measure. “This is nice, you know.”

“What is?” You ask, peering down at the large group menu. Everything looks awfully delicious and awfully expensive, so you just go for a classic pasta dish and hope that Taehyung orders something different, so you can try each other’s. 

“Sitting next to you,” Seokjin says like it’s obvious, making you blink at your menu like it’s just offended your entire family ancestry. “I don’t think we’ve ever been paired up like this at a company dinner.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?” You ask hopefully. 

“It’s nice,” Seokjin says. “I feel like we don’t get to talk very much at work.”

“You said you’d bring more doughnuts,” you remind him. Seokjin has held up on his promise, actually, and since the first round of doughnuts, he’s brought on two more occasions to brighten up everybody’s day. 

“I think I need a better excuse than doughnuts,” Seokjin says to himself. “I can’t keep going to Dunkin’ right before work, pretty soon all of the workers will know me by name and that is a level that I’m not sure I’d like to reach yet.”

“Don’t feel bad,” you tell him, a hand instinctively coming to rest on his shoulder as comfort. “Some of the Costco employees recognize me even when I’m wearing my sunglasses inside.”

“You wear your sunglasses inside Costco?” Seokjin asks with a laugh. 

“Sometimes I just forget to take them off when I walk from my car into the store!” You say defensively. “It’s really bright in there, sue me.”

“No, no, I think it’s cute,” Seokjin assures you. “Maybe being recognized by the Dunkin’ employees won’t be that bad. At least they probably wouldn’t know who I was if I had my sunglasses on.”

“I’m being attacked, I’m pretty sure,” you say pointedly. 

“Only affectionately. You’re still ridiculously endearing.” Seokjin says with a chuckle, smiling at you as Jungkook calls your name to tell him something about Kingdom that he’s forgotten. But even as Seokjin gets tugged into another conversation and you get pulled into your own, your brain can’t help but replay the sound of his voice in your head, over and over. 

You’re still ridiculously endearing.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Jimin asks over a mouthful of complimentary bread with olive oil. “Did you ever figure out who knocked Y/N from the top spot in Kingdom?”

“No,” Jungkook cries out, suddenly thirsty for justice. “It makes me so mad that I don’t know who they are, especially since they’re getting all the in-game brand deals and Y/N gets nothing,” he says pointedly as he motions to you, clearly exasperated for a cause that wasn’t even his to begin with. 

“Jungkook, it’s not a big deal, it’s just a game,” you remind him, the table too wide to reach over and pat his hand comfortingly. “I still get a lot of things in second place.”

“What’s Jungkook talking about?” Seokjin asks, motioning to where Jungkook seems to be on a rampage as Jimin and Namjoon listen in. 

“Oh, Kingdom, like always,” you say fondly. “He’s determined to figure out the name of the person who dethroned me.”

“Is that so?” Seokjin asks with a laugh. “He’s got his work cut out for him. How many people play Kingdom?”

“Hundreds of thousands, probably,” you say. “Maybe millions.”

“Millions of people, and somehow we ended up with the second-best player in the game right at this table,” Seokjin says with a grin. “We should be honored.”

“It’s just a game,” you remind him, even though the sentiment is awfully sweet. “I think I much prefer the real world, don’t you?”

Seokjin smiles at you as the waiter comes around to offer him another cocktail. 

“Another one, sir?”

Seokjin looks down at the cocktail, then at your unstained clothes, and he shakes his head, laughing to himself. “No, I’m alright, thank you.” The waiter nods, taking his empty glass and moving onto another coworker. He looks at you, and his eyes are swimming in stars. “I think that I do, too.”

Dinner ends with Hoseok and Jungkook gobbling down everybody’s leftovers, your boss paying the bill without even glancing at the check, and you laughing alongside Seokjin, who keeps your end of the table entertained with fantastic stories about his past job at a luxury department store and less-than-fantastic dad jokes that he prides himself for coming up with on the spot. 

Taehyung had nudged you when the entrees had come around, motioning to the vent above your head, but you hadn’t even noticed the cold. 

“Ugh,” Jimin says with a groan as the group of you head outside once everyone is finished, the chilly night air hitting your skin as you open the door. “I hate that we could only schedule this for a Wednesday, because it means we have to come into work again tomorrow.”

“When else are we supposed to schedule it for?” Yoongi asks with a frown. “Did you even look at the When2Meet? Nobody had any free time for the rest of the month.”

“Well, if everyone’s cleared their schedules just for this dinner, anyone want to keep the celebration going at my apartment? I just bought a box of wine from Trader Joe’s,” Jimin asks. 

“On a Wednesday?” Yoongi says, nose scrunched up in disapproval. 

“Yeah, when else would you drink boxed Trader Joe’s wine?” Jimin responds like it’s obvious. 

Everyone begins to either disperse back to their cars or get Jimin’s address so they can get wine drunk on a Wednesday like you’re supposed to, leaving you and Seokjin out of the crowd. 

“Are you heading over to Jimin’s?” He asks you as you begin to walk towards your cars, taking a step every five seconds as you watch Jimin tell everybody his exact address, loudly and slowly enough for any burglars and axe-wielding murderers within a three-mile radius to also hear him. 

“No, I think I’ll just head home for the night,” you say, checking the time on your phone. It’s nearly ten, already. Where did the time go?

“Ah, then I guess I will, too,” Seokjin says. “Oh, here’s my car.”

“You parked close,” you comment. 

“I thought that I’d be late because I arrived at 6:45, but I was the second one here,” Seokjin tells you, making you laugh. 

“Sounds like our office, doesn’t it?”

“I guess. We’ll have to do this again sometime just to see how late everyone shows up,” Seokjin says. 

“Promise I’ll be early next time,” you say. 

“Next time, then?” Seokjin asks, already opening his car door and beginning to step inside. You stand on the sidewalk in front of him, watching as he pulls the door shut and waves to you through the windshield. A next time sounds awfully nice. 

“Next time.”

♚ THERE ♚

The King and Queen never do find out about your truancy, though you have to admit, you were never really worried about that in the first place. Not when J was grinning as he told you he had sent the messenger guard off, laughing as he dragged you through the forest, smiling as he twirled a buttercup between his fingers. He had done it before and he’ll do it again, and look where that’s gotten him. 

Maybe you could learn a thing or two from him. 

Still, despite your high ranks, the two of you can’t avoid your responsibilities forever. Eventually, you will always have to report back to the castle, get a new assignment, and start the cycle all over again. 

“At least they’re letting us go together,” J reasons as the two of you nod to the knights standing guard at the border of the kingdom, by the main forest that leads directly to a kingdom with whom your relationship isn’t all that strong. No wars have broken out between your two lands in years, but never has stability been one-hundred percent earned, which means that both kingdoms must be on high alert. You never know when a rebel group will attempt to invade the land. 

“Like I’d want to spend any more time with you,” you joke, giving J a nudge in the side as you stroll along the forest edge. In the middle of the day with the sun high above your heads, neither of you are particularly worried about being attacked. It would be foolish for an enemy group to do so, especially at a time when the kingdom’s guards are the most awake. 

“Am I really such awful company?” J asks, and he’s smiling but he asks in such a way, it’s almost as if he means it. The two of you have never been on the best of terms, but you’ve found yourself growing out of the competition-fueled rage you once always found yourself in whenever you were near him. No longer is regaining your first place your most important priority. Rather, it’s doing your job and doing it correctly, upholding the duties that the kingdom has entrusted you with, regardless of who’s by your side. 

(Though, even if you’d never admit it, J makes quite good company, most of the time.)

“No,” you insist, a hand reaching out to rub comfortingly at his forearm. “You aren’t.”

“You think so?” J says with a laugh, almost bitter. “I must say, you’ve never been that fond of me.”

“You may have charmed your way into the rest of the kingdom’s hearts, but I needed some convincing,” you remind him, reminiscent of how he would tease you constantly, dangle his promotion right above your head like a trophy you’d never be able to reach. 

“Did I do a good job, then?” J asks, hands in his pockets. It’s a quiet day, today. Even the birds have begun to murmur. 

“You did quite alright,” you say, nudging him. “Though I must say, I absolutely hate how all of the vendor’s daughters fawn all over you and give you free items like fruit, and jewelry. I’m never given that treatment.”

“You just don’t have my naturally charming, handsome, soft looks,” J says, posing in front of you as the two of you walk. The obnoxiousness of it all makes you almost want to chuck the apple you’re about to eat right at his face. 

“What do you mean? I can be charming,” you say with a pout. You pretend to flip your hair, just for emphasis. 

“You and I are different types of charming,” J says casually. “You’re strong. You speak loudly and clearly and you don’t ever flounder. You always know exactly what you want, and know the best way to get it. You aren’t afraid of anything, and are always willing to take on any challenge that comes your way. It’s… it’s different.”

And even if he thinks you never flounder, never stumble over your words or stutter, for once, you can’t think of anything to say. You’re walking along the forest’s edge with a knight you had convinced yourself that you would never befriend, and he’s just told you all of these wonderful things about yourself you never would have known he’d thought otherwise. 

J’s right. It is different. This is different. And you can hardly remember when it started to be like this. Only one day, it was just like this, and it never stopped. 

“Do you really think all of those things about me?” You ask, staring down at your boots as you walk along the dirt path, kicking small pebbles as you go. They go flying off into the grass, never to be seen again. But sometimes, you come across one you had kicked a few steps back, and you try again, earnestly hoping to see how far it will go with you by its side. 

“I mean, well…” J says, stumbling. “I don’t just think those things about you, you know? They’re facts, aren’t they? Those are things that, well, I suppose, everyone would think about you. Right?”

“You know what I think?” You ask, looking up at him. His dark hair shimmers in the light, like reflects of gold have been sprinkled amongst the ink black. “We are different types of charming. You’re charismatic and friendly, always willing to listen. You accept things graciously and are always grateful for what you receive. You pay people back whatever they’ve given you, even if it’s not the same item, even if it’s just the thought that counts. You always want to do better, and then you do. You work hard for each thing you get, and you never take it for granted.”

J grins down at you. “But you don’t actually think that, do you?”

“Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “Just facts.”

“Just facts,” he echoes. 

When did talking to him become so easy? When did it all start coming to you naturally?

“Did you ever hate me?” He asks you, curious. He knows, he must, that that’s not the case anymore. 

“No,” you admit, perhaps more to yourself than to him. “I think that I just hated that you were better than me. But… like you said, it’s different now. Now, I don’t care if you’re better than me. That sort of competition makes me a better soldier. You make me a better soldier.”

“Really?” J wonders, genuine. His eyes are wide in surprise, shocked at such a candid admission coming from you. To be honest, you’re surprised with yourself, as well. “I had no idea.”

“Keep it up, then. You know—”

A taut string let go. 

The wind stopping in its tracks. 

And an arrow headed right for your heart. 

“Oh my God!” You shout quickly, unable to do much except alert the man next to you that the two of you are in imminent danger. 

Before you can even blink, close your eyes and wait for the tip to pierce your heart, J is pushing you out of the way, sending you flying to the forest floor and he pulls his bow from his back, sending a steel arrow flying in the direction of the woods. You both wait there, only a second but it’s a second too long, until you hear a thud on the ground, a final breath, and then—

Silence. 

The moment you’re both positive the assailant is dead, J turns to you, eyes wide. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m alright,” you assure him, telling him (and yourself) over and over as he pulls you up from the ground. Your heart is racing and you can’t quite seem to catch your breath, but you’re alive and so is he, and that’s all that matters. “Are you?”

“Yes,” he immediately says. “As long as you are.”

You look behind him to find an arrow stuck in a tree, but what alarms you more is the sight of blood on the tip. Immediately, you turn back to J, only to find the side of his arm covered in blood, bleeding right through his armor.

“Oh my God, J, you’re hurt,” you cry out, fumbling for something to stop the flow.

“I’m alright, Y/N, really,” he insists, placing a hand on top of your own, rubbing the back of it with his thumb for good measure. “It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.”

“We have to take you back to the kingdom,” you push, already beginning to head back towards the gate. 

“I’ve suffered worse injuries, Y/N, seriously,” he tells you, hoping to ease the pit of worry in your stomach. “I’m a top-ranked knight who prefers the battlefield over anything else. I’ve broken bones, gotten stabbed, and nearly died. This? It’s nothing. Really. Please, don’t worry.”

“We still have to get you back to the Kingdom and patch you up,” you insist firmly. “Even if you say you’re alright.”

“Whatever you say, Miss Y/N.” J goes with you obligingly, lets you walk him back to the kingdom gates. 

You urge him into the local medical practitioner, sit him down on the bench and watch as the doctor bandages his wound, reminds him not to engage in any strenuous activity while it’s healing. He sits patiently, glaring at you slightly and rolling his eyes any time the doctor speaks, which is fairly frequently. It’s clear only one of you wants to be here right now, and it’s the one of you without a scratch on your body. 

When the doctor leaves to tend to another patient, you get up from where you’re seated and sit down next to him on the bench, resting your head on his shoulder. 

Working for the Kingdom makes you stronger. Sitting in the cafe makes you think. But being with him, standing by his side, it makes you wonder. It makes your heart race and your mind clear. It makes you feel safe. 

“I think you saved my life,” you whisper softly, clutching onto him like a lifeline, like if you let go, one of you will drown. 

But that’s not the case. Neither of you will let go. Not without the other. Never without the other. 

“Really?” He asks. He already knows the answer. 

“No, I know you did,” you tell him. Things are different now, but maybe they’ve always been like this. You just never noticed. “Because in a heartbeat, I would do the same for you.”

♚ HERE ♚

“I have not seen Seokjin all day,” Jimin comments loudly one day, making everyone immediately turn to Seokjins’ desk, which looks practically untouched. His computer is asleep, his chair is pushed in, and his desktop is empty. The only thing that suggests that the man is even here in the first place is the messenger bag resting against the desk drawers, though it doesn’t look like it’s even been opened today. 

“Probably too busy avoiding you,” Yoongi deadpans, earning a “zing!” from Hoseok that makes you feel even more like you’re standing in the middle of a high school movie made by people who don’t know what high school is like. 

“Is he even in today?” 

“He is,” you pipe up. “His bag is here.”

“Of course you would know!” Taehyung teases, and he earns a highlighter to the face for his trouble. 

“He’s probably just trying to get his work done in a place that doesn’t consist of screaming and constant insults being hurled across the room,” Jimin says with a sigh, turning back to his work. It’s a fair statement, especially when the environment in your office is most often distracting, loud, and not at all an ideal work environment. It’s an absolute wonder that any of you manage to get your work done while you’re here. 

“Y/N, wanna go hunt him down?” Taehyung suggests, sending a wink your way as your eyes widen. 

“No, absolutely not, no way. I will not be tricked by you again,” you say, very reminiscent of the last time you went to go look for Seokjin and ended up with a coffee-stained shirt and a group of coworkers who thinks the two of you hooked up that one time. 

“If you say so…” Taehyung says, voice trailing off as he turns back to his work. 

But for once in your life, Seokjin’s absence is more noticeable than ever. He’s become a fixture in your everyday office life, always stopping by your desk with a second cup of low-grade office coffee for you (with a lid, of course), sending you emails complaining about Jimin and Hoseok when they’re being loud, asking you for help on every one of his difficult font decisions for logo designs, drafting emails to clients with you. It’s a sort of closeness that you never really had before—sure, you worked together and often got paired up for projects, but it’s different now. Like you jumped ship on being just colleagues but instead of drowning, you began to float.

Five more minutes pass and you pretty much resign yourself to getting back to your work, knowing that Seokjin’s probably just grabbed his laptop and found a place where he can work in peace and quiet without Hoseok’s shrill voice interrupting his thoughts. You’ll have to ask him what place he’s discovered. 

When there are four minutes left in the workweek and you are finally beginning to close out of the fifteen thousand tabs open on your Google Chrome window, the door busts open. 

It doesn’t actually bust open, so much as Seokjin comes flying through it and it slowly goes to rest on the padded door frame like it’s been designed to. His tie is loose around his neck like he’s been tugging on it all afternoon, his laptop is clenched carefully between his arm and his torso, and he’s got a flurry of papers freeballing it in a stack in his hands. 

“Oh my God, what tornado did you come from?” Jimin asks as Seokjin rushes over to his desk, cramming everything into his tiny messenger bag that definitely isn’t meant to fit a laptop and a stack of papers that thick. 

“Sehun just dumped an entire project on me that’s due on Sunday at noon with no warning, and now I have to pull together fragments of a crumbling magazine label before their final review on Sunday afternoon,” he says, terribly out of breath. He’s scrambling to gather his belongings, crashing into anything within a two-foot radius of him. 

“Dude, what the heck? I’m gonna tell Namjoon to kick Sehun’s ass,” Hoseok says with a frown, nose scrunched up. “Do you need help?”

“No, no, I’m alright, I can do it,” Seokjin insists, rubbing a hand through his hair as he leaves before the clock has even struck five. 

“Are you sure? You look like you want to jump out of the window,” Hoseok asks again, just for clarification. He’s not wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Seokjin become so stressed in such a short period of time before. “At least let one of us help you get settled back into your apartment.”

To your right, Taehyung whispers into Jungkook’s ear, who then does this sort of weird hand movement to Hoseok, who nods understandingly. It looks suspiciously like they just plotted someone’s murder. 

“I can’t,” Jungkook says with an obnoxiously fake yawn, suddenly speaking much slower than usual, “I’m deadbeat tired.”

“Me neither,” Taehyung says, coughing in the way people do when they just want to get out of something. “I think I’m coming down with something.”

You whip your head around as everyone besides Yoongi comes up with an absolutely bullshit excuse not to accompany Seokjin to his apartment—Jimin says he has a date right after work and Hoseok says he needs to feed his puppy before he gets too hungry, leaving only you and a Yoongi that hasn’t been listening to the conversation whatsoever to vie for the spot. 

“Yoongi?” You ask, somewhat desperate not to be the one to accompany Seokjin to his apartment. You turn to your head to glare at Taehyung, who shamelessly coughs again when he meets your eyes, smiling guiltily. 

“Huh?” He asks, turning around. 

“Fine, you know what? I can come with,” you say with a sigh, already grabbing your belongings as Taehyung and Jungkook high-five next to you. 

“Oh, really? You’re a lifesaver, Y/N, you know that?” Seokjin says, and even when he’s stressed it’s like the weight has been lifted off of his shoulders once you volunteer, and you suppose that there are worse things that can happen than accompanying Seokjin to his apartment for ten minutes. 

Seokjin gives you the address of his place so that you can drive to it yourself, the both of you pulling into the parking garage underneath his apartment complex at the same time, waving to each other from adjacent parking spaces. 

“I really, really appreciate this, Y/N,” Seokjin says with a smile as he brings you into his apartment complex, nodding a friendly hello to the security officer in the lobby. “I know that it’s a Friday night and everything as well. You’d probably want to be doing something else.”

“Ah, yes, you know me, I frequent all of the clubs and bars in this city,” you say sarcastically as you walk into the elevator. Seokjin hits the button for the seventh floor and laughs. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. It was a dick move of Sehun to drop this on you when it’s due in, like, thirty-six hours.”

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin says, exasperated as he leans back against the steel walls of the elevator. “I thought I would just get to go home this Friday night, pull up Netflix, and have a one-man movie night, but now I have to spend the next thirty-six hours doing this.”

“Well, you know all of us are just looking out for you, wanted to make sure you didn’t injure yourself from stress before you got back to your apartment,” you say as the elevator door dings. Seokjin leads you down the hallway to his door, sticking his key in and jiggling it until the door pops open. 

Admittedly, you have never been in Seokjin’s apartment, but you it was like you had already painted a picture of it in your head from his personality traits alone. You thought it would be fairly minimalistic, clean and neat, not too many flashy colors or kitschy items but things like photographs and magnets to make it feel like an office and more like a home. Pictured it as a sort of very simple, modern home, like the ones that celebrities live in because they can afford to keep their belongings clean all the time, because Seokjin looks exactly like a celebrity, gorgeous and put-together. 

Instead, Seokjin’s apartment is almost a hodgepodge of everything he could think to find to decorate, a stack of photobooks on his coffee table, slouchy leather couches wrinkled from wear, various kitchen supplies splayed all over his countertops. It’s the kind of place you can imagine him being in, existing in. You can see him standing behind his kitchen island with all of the ingredients and supplies for this wonderful dish he’s making littered across the counters. You can see him curled up on the couch, leaning against the corner of it to find that perfect spot, watching television. 

There’s a difference between owning a place, and living in it. Living in it makes it feels like a home, like it’s real, and not just for show. 

“Wow, your place is—”

“It’s really messy right now, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests,” Seokjin says, letting his messenger bag plop down on the ground as he scrambles to make his living space nicer for you. 

“No, I was going to say it’s lovely,” you tell him. “It feels exactly like you.”

“Does it?” Seokjin asks genuinely, a soft smile lacing his features. “Well then, thank you.”

You wait around in his apartment awkwardly, not really sure if stepping past the front of his couch is socially acceptable since you’re just “visiting” and he hasn’t officially invited you inside yet. The main objective of accompanying him to his apartment has already been accomplished: you made sure he got home safely and that he can do his work in peace. Finished. But even still, you’re hanging around, wondering when he’s going to kick you out for being a weird, unknown fixture in his home. 

“Um, would you like to stay for dinner? I made soup last night and I have way too much for me to eat on my own,” he offers, opening up his fridge and taking out an enormous pot. It clinks as it hits his countertop, the metal sound echoing throughout his apartment. 

“No, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you say, taking this as your cue to remove yourself from the situation before you do anything else to make an absolute fool of yourself. 

“I insist, please,” Seokjin says, stopping you in your tracks. “I may have a whole project to finish by Sunday, but we should at least spend this Friday night together, right?”

You look down at your shoes before looking up at him, meeting his eyes from where he stands behind his counter island. 

“Then I will,” you say, removing your flats and padding over to where he stands, coming to a stop on the other side of the counter island. “But only if you let me help you with the project, too. It was asshole-y of Sehun to dump it all on you. At least let me handle some of the graphic aspects.”

“Y/N,” Seokjin says, reaching his hand out over the counter, “you have a deal.”

This deal mainly consists of you eating some of Seokjin’s homemade soup on his couches, your laptops on his coffee table and that ridiculously thick stack of papers spread out amongst you. Seokjin already has a fair bit of information about the project at hand, but he still has absolutely zero progress since he received the assignment four minutes before the end of the workweek. 

“So, basically, what we have to do is re-organize the magazine’s overall design and aesthetic before their final review on Sunday, because if they don’t appeal to the publisher, they’re getting tanked,” Seokjin says, paging through the papers in search of a sketch. 

“So we’re their last hope,” you summarize. 

Seokjin nods. “We’re their last hope.”

“Great,” you say, not at all enthused. “No pressure at all.”

“I know. I’m so relaxed right now,” Seokjin says, clearly not relaxed. 

“You know what’s making me relaxed? This soup,” you say, finishing the last of what’s in your bowl. “It’s delicious. I didn’t know you cooked.”

“It’s just a hobby of mine,” Seokjin says with a shrug. “I picked it up when I moved to college and didn’t know how to make anything except toast.”

“You’re a very fast learner, then,” you say. “I’d pay you to make all of my meals, honestly.”

“Would you like more? I have a ton, so we can eat it all if you’d like,” he asks, already standing up and reaching his hand out for your bowl. 

You hand it over, shaking your head as he makes his way back to his little kitchen, ladling more soup into both of your bowls. “You’re too nice, Seokjin. Seriously. How am I supposed to pay back this kindness?”

Seokjin lets out a warm chuckle as he warms up your next serving in the microwave. “Believe me, Y/N, volunteering to take on this project with me with a due date in less than thirty-six hours is more than enough. You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

“No,” you tell him. “I want to. You deserve someone who’s willing to help you with big things like this. You shouldn’t have to deal with it all on your own.”

Seokjin grins as he returns, handing you your bowl of soup as you get back to work. “I don’t deserve you, Y/N.”

What was supposed to be a couple of hours spent grinding out a project over a shared pot of soup turns into a night’s worth of work, scribbles on paper and the redoing of the same logo fifteen different times on your computer’s much slower, less-updated version of Photoshop. The application crashes on three different occasions, causing you to nearly slam it into the wall, but you just try to look on the bright side. Find the silver lining. Of which there are none. 

Seokjin doesn’t seem to be faring any better than you are. You’ve never seen the man under such pressure before, not in the office and certainly not while you’re out of the office. He’s tugged on a crewneck sweater over his dress shirt and paces around his apartment in bright pink slippers, brainstorming aloud as you bounce ideas off of each other in a panic. 

“What if we rebranded them?” Seokjin suggests wildly. When you turn to look at the digital clock underneath his television, it says 11:17PM. You’re surprised he hasn’t collapsed underneath the pile of work he’s got on his plate. 

“What do you mean? Do we even have the authorization to rebrand them?” You ask, pulling up a new tab on magazine marketing techniques. 

“The project description says requests for anything that will keep them afloat,” Seokjin says. He immediately opens an old photobook, buried underneath your laptops, sketches, and papers, flipping through before he sits down right next to you on his slouchy leather couch. “What if we gave them more of a minimalist kind of style? They’re trying to jump off of this super quirky, very basic Urban Outfitters kind of aesthetic, but I think it makes the magazine too young, you know?” Seokjin suggests. “We could do something more grown-up, attract their market audience.”

“Are we allowed to do that?” You ask, thoroughly interested. Maybe Seokjin’s onto something. 

“Who says we can’t?” Seokjin responds, and it’s good enough for you to hop on board. 

Sitting in his apartment like this, brainstorming different ideas and collaborating on logo designs, magazine layout, and website design together, you are more productive than you’ve been in a very, very long time. Even as the night stretches on into the early hours of the morning, as you watch the clock turn from 1:00AM to 2:00AM to 3:00AM, the two of you are wide awake, the only things illuminating his apartment being a floor lamp by his television and the blue light of your laptop screens. 

“It’s…” Seokjin yawns when it’s nearly four in the morning, pen slipping from his fingers, “so late.”

“I know,” you say back, feeling your eyelids beginning to sink. “I’m surprised we’ve even stayed up this long.”

“Haven’t been up this late since college,” Seokjin says, smiling hazily at past memories. “Always had code to finish for my class the next morning.”

“At least we get to sleep in now,” you joke. Even if you still have to finish putting together a brand new image for this magazine that’s about to go under, tomorrow is still a Saturday. 

“Thank God,” Seokjin says, resting his head on the back of the couch cushion, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I feel like we did a lot tonight.”

“We were very productive,” you agree.

He yawns. “We work well together, don’t you think?”

“Hmm?” You ask, leaning over to move your computer from your lap to the coffee table, exchanging it for a sketchpad to keep brainstorming. 

“I think,” Seokjin begins, and it must be just the sleepy haze his brain has entered rather than anything else that could spur him to express this, that makes him say, “that you and I make a perfect pair.”

You sit up straight at this, looking over at Seokjin as the pencil in between your fingers falls onto the sketchpad before rolling onto the floor. It looks like he’s fallen asleep, exhaustion finally overcoming him as all of the work he’s done catches up to him. In the dead of night, the only sound in the room is his soft breathing, chest rising and falling slowly as his mind begins to wander. You watch him, eyelids heavy, and think that he couldn’t have possibly thought that. No way would he say such a thing to you if he was perfectly cognizant, wide awake. After all, you’re the one with a crush on him, not the other way around. 

You lean back, pondering why a man like Seokjin would ever invite you into his home, offer you soup, and shower you with subtle compliments that couldn’t just be friends being friends, and before you know it, your eyes fall shut. 

It is nearly one in the afternoon by the time you wake up, the sunlight streaming in from the side of his apartment. It forces you to finally open your eyes, groaning as your blurry vision begins to clear. 

That is when you register these four things in this order:

This is Seokjin’s apartment.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, in which you worked on a project with him last night.

This is Seokjin’s apartment, and you fell asleep on his couch. 

This is Seokjin’s apartment, and he thinks that you’d make the perfect pair. 

You hear a clink from across the room, and turn to find Seokjin, still wearing the same thing he was wearing last night, standing in his kitchen, pouring two glasses of orange juice. 

“Morning,” Seokjin says. He pauses, then corrects himself. “Afternoon, actually.” He walks over to you, handing you a glass of orange juice as you rub your eyes, waking yourself up.

“How long have you been up?” You ask him, too tired to thank him out loud for the glass of orange juice. 

“About an hour,” he says, checking the time. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked so peaceful.”

“I feel awful, I didn’t mean to intrude on your apartment for, like, an entire night,” you say, rubbing your forehead as you try to smooth out your hair, make yourself look less like you fell asleep at four in the morning in your gorgeous crush’s apartment. 

“No, it’s alright, really,” Seokjin insists. “It was nice having company, for once. And I think we got a lot done.”

“I still feel bad, I didn’t mean to stay so long,” you say, looking around for your belongings as you try to gather your bearings. 

“It’s fine,” Seokjin reassures you, sitting down on the couch next to you as he begins to clean up the absolute mess of the coffee table. “But your phone has been ringing nonstop, so someone must have missed you.”

You fumble around for your phone before finding it having slid in between the couch cushions, pulling it up to see three missed calls from Taehyung and two missed calls from Jungkook, as well as a slew of texts from the both of them. 

“Oh, it’s just Taehyung and Jungkook,” you say with a shrug, deciding that now is not the time to bring them into the conversation. A quick scan of the texts gives you a rough summary of what you would have heard if you had answered their calls instead. 

Taehyung (9:35AM): Y/N Taehyung (9:35AM): HELLO Taehyung (9:35AM): ARE YOU ALIVE??? Taehyung (9:36AM): YOU NEVER SLEEP THIS LATE ARE YOU OKAY??? Taehyung (10:03AM): I WENT BY YOUR APARTMENT AND YOU DIDN’T ANSWER IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT Taehyung (10:04AM): TEXT ME 1 IF EVERYTHING IS OKAY AND 2 IF EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY Taehyung (10:05AM): LAST TIME I SAW YOU YOU WERE GOING HOME WITH SEOKJIN DID HE MURDER YOU??????? Taehyung (10:18AM): oh Taehyung (10:18AM): oh wait Taehyung (10:19AM): OHHHHHHHHH Taehyung (10:20AM): ;)

Jungkook (12:18PM): Kingdom just started a new event! Get online with me and let’s crush this thing pleaseeeee

“Just want me to play Kingdom with them,” you say, ignoring Taehyung’s text messages and pretending like they don’t exist.

“You really like that game, don’t you?” Seokjin asks. 

“Oh, they like it more than I do, really, I just try and keep the obsession to a minimum,” you say casually. 

“But they always talk about how good you are,” Seokjin adds. “You’re ranked second, aren’t you? That’s a big accomplishment.”

“Yeah, but it’s not that exciting. I mean, it’s just a game,” you shrug it off. 

“But you like it, which means that’s important,” Seokjin says. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of the things you like. They matter to you.”

“You think so?” You ask, smiling at him. 

“I know so. Tell me about Kingdom,” he urges, nudging your side. “Please? I’d love to know.”

And for once, you don’t just shrug it off and brand it as a game you play occasionally. You let yourself love that game, for all it’s done for you and your friends (even if you aren’t the best anymore) and your happiness, and you tell Seokjin about it. About how you started playing it when you were bored one day during work and saw a forum on it. How you got the rest of the office hooked on it as well, even if they were much more obnoxious about it than you are. How you go home after a long day of work and log on, letting yourself relax as you weave your way through the rankings and quests, finding solace in the familiarity of it all. You tell him why you love it, and why you probably won’t stop playing it for a long time, no matter what becomes of your ranking. 

“It was nice being ranked first, but I actually don’t mind whoever it is that’s taken over,” you tell Seokjin honestly. “Jungkook wants to hunt them down, but I think that, whoever they are, they deserve that spot. You know, I used to hate them because the top-ranked player gets all of the best rewards, but our characters have recently started to spend so much time together that I feel like they’d probably have fallen in love by now.” You chuckle to yourself. If life were a movie, everything would always work out perfectly.

“You do?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, of course,” you say. “They spend so much time together. Who wouldn’t, right?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Seokjin says, smiling. “I also have something to tell you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t tell me you’re obsessed with anime, please. That is where I draw the line.”

“Don’t shame us,” Seokjin says, a hand on his heart like he’s been personally offended. Your eyes widen. “I’m kidding,” he says, laughing as you exhale, relieved. “I actually play Kingdom, too. I just wanted to ask you about it.”

“Seriously? All this time and you just pretended like you had no idea what it was?” you say in disbelief. He’s been hiding this from you for how long? God, the rest of your office is going to have a field day with this information. 

“I just wanted you to tell me about it,” Seokjin admits sheepishly. 

You shake your head. “You could have talked to me about other stuff, you know.”

“I know, but you never talked about Kingdom and I could always see how much you loved it. It was nice, listening to you tell me about it,” he says. 

“I’ve been betrayed,” you say dramatically, opening up your laptop to pull up the game. “What’s your ID? We can add each other.”

This is where Seokjin goes silent. “Actually, I think you might already know who I am. I’m above you in the rankings.”

Your mouth drops open. 

“You’re JK0901? Are you kidding me?” You ask, absolutely floored. All this time and you had no idea that Kim Seokjin was a Kingdom expert. “What does JK stand for? I was convinced it was Jungkook and he was just lying to my face, but in reality, it was you who was lying to me!”

Seokjin lets out a chuckle. “Jin Kim. I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out earlier.”

“I can’t believe this,” you say, practically speechless. “How long have you been playing?” 

“Not that long,” Seokjin shrugs. “I picked it up because I wanted to impress a girl I liked.”

“Really? All this effort for a girl you like?” You ask, still in disbelief. You suck up the way your heart is sinking at the thought of him liking another person, but then you remember that it wasn’t like you had ever made a move on him anyway. Smiling, you ask, “Will you at least humor me and tell me who it is?”

Then, Seokjin looks you dead in the eye, and says, “You.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he wraps a hand around your torso and pulls you into him, pressing his lips firmly on yours as you gasp into his mouth, body tensing up before you melt into his touch. 

It’s a quick kiss, nothing too crazy, but it overwhelms you nonetheless, leaves you gasping for air like you’ve been underwater this whole time and have finally surfaced. When you part, you look up into his eyes only to find that they’ve turned into crescents. He’s grinning down at you like he’s finally gotten it right. 

“You did all of that for me?” You ask. “How did you even know?”

Seokjin looks particularly guilty. “You’re not necessarily… that discreet, Y/N.”

You close your eyes, the heat already flaring in your cheeks. “Oh God, you knew?”

“It was fairly easy to figure out,” Seokjin admits. “But the good news is: I felt the same way. So, no harm done.”

“I’m so embarrassed,” you say, curling into his chest so you don’t have to look him in the eye. 

“You’re incredible, Y/N, you know that?” He asks, pulling you away from him just so he can get a better look at you. He’s standing in front of you, looking at you like this is what he’s been waiting for. Like all this time, he’s been waiting for you. “I’d do it all over again if it meant I could end up with you.”

“You would?” You ask, pulling him in for another kiss. There’s plenty more where those came from, but you’re already feeling greedy. Why wouldn’t you? If life was a movie, then wouldn’t this be the happy ending? 

“In a heartbeat.”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

↳ check out the post-script drabble here!

[straightfacedstrangeness]

Okay, these are not expert/Hardcore Nerd opinions, but I’m so used to being surrounded by Star Wars and keep being surprised that other people aren’t, so...Some Kind Of Star Wars viewing guide for people who aren’t into Star Wars

STARting point:

Basically, if you like robots, aliens, and big space battles (and/or are a special effects or sci-fi design nerd), you’ll probably enjoy Star Wars.  If you don’t...the writing and acting quality varies from version to version, and between different movies in the same trilogy.  Star Wars is more a thing to enjoy because it’s fun, not to appreciate as high art (unless, again, you’re a nerd for special effects or design).

The original movie, aka Episode 4: A New Hope, is the best starting point because it sets up the central characters and conflict, is a lot of fun, and if nothing else you’ll get like 60% of the Star Wars references people make.

Episode 1: The Phantom Menace is also a lot of fun and could be watched as a standalone, but the plot can be hard to follow, and the other Prequel movies (Eps 2 & 3) are best viewed through the lens of “how does this inform the events of the Original Trilogy” since they’re kind of awkward, confusing, and depressing without that context.  Only start with 1: The Phantom Menace if you have some nostalgia for it.

Episode 7: The Force Awakens is also a lot of fun and has the added bonus of a more diverse cast, but it and its sequels heavily build on and reference the events of the Original Trilogy.  The basic plotline of “evil fascists VS people trying to stop them” is probably easy enough to follow, though, so you can probably start here if you’re okay with getting some Original Trilogy spoilers, but you’ll most likely want to watch The Original Trilogy before watching 8 or 9.

Rogue One and Solo take place before The Original Trilogy and can probably be viewed first if you like the cast or concept of either (Rogue One: “here are the people on the ground doing the hard work that sets up the other heroes’ victories,” Solo: “it’s a heist movie IN SPACE!”), but they’re fairly dark by comparison and some of the big reveals or other details might make more sense with the context of seeing the Original Trilogy first.

The Mandalorian takes place on the fringes of the Star Wars universe and barely references any events or characters from the rest of the franchise (and even then, neither the audience nor the main character are expected to know who or what they are), so you can start here if you don’t mind minor spoilers for who won the (Original Trilogy) war.

The Original Trilogy (4, 5 & 6, 1970s-80s)

Lots of fun, heavily referenced in pop culture, great designs and cool puppetry and other practical special effects.  These are the movies with Mark Hamill as Luke, Carrie Fisher as Leia, and Harrison Ford as Han Solo.  All of them are great and bring a lot of charisma and humanity to their performances.  4: A New Hope is the really iconic one and is mostly a fun adventure through space.  A lot of people love 5: The Empire Strikes Back because it’s darker and hate 6: The Return Of The Jedi because it’s sillier, but honestly, it comes down to personal preference.

Once you’ve seen The Original Trilogy, you can freely watch either of the other movie Trilogies.  Just watching 4 is enough to let you skip over to the standalone movies or the TV show The Mandalorian.

The Prequel Trilogy (1, 2 & 3, 1990s-2000s)

These are the movies with Ewan McGregor as young Obi-Wan, Hayden Christensen as Anakin, and Natalie Portman as Padmé.  A lot of people shit on these for being “bad movies,” and yes the acting is often flat, the plots can be hard to follow (Original Trilogy is a simpler “bad government VS good rebels,” Prequel Trilogy has a lot of political manipulation and nuance but doesn’t explain it much), and a lot of it is watching people making decisions that you know from the Original Trilogy are going to turn out badly.  But I unironically love them, and they have really amazing design and special effect work (the CGI of course looks dated now, but it’s still phenomenal), and a lot of fun moments.  1: The Phantom Menace is another fun adventure through space, but with a lot of awkwardly racist alien caricatures who are thankfully played down or removed from the other movies.  2: Attack Of The Clones is a space adventure with an unfortunately uncomfortable romantic subplot, and 3: Revenge Of The Sith is relentlessly dark but I like the emotional drama of it.  Again, either you’ll think they’re fun or you won’t.

Like I said above, these are best watched after having seen the Original Trilogy, to inform the backstory and characters’ actions, VS being watched as standalone movies.

The Sequel Trilogy (7, 8 & 9, 2010s)

These are the movies with Daisy Ridley as Rey, John Boyega as Finn, Oscar Isaac as Poe, and Adam Driver as Kylo Ren.  Like with the Original Trilogy, all of them are great and bring a lot of fun and depth to their characters, and also 7: The Force Awakens is a fun space adventure, and people are divisive over 8 and 9, 8: The Last Jedi being darker and 9: The Rise Of Skywalker being lighter...but with the added meta-drama that 9 spends the entire time trying to undo or contradict things that happened in 8 (and an extra level of meta-grossness in that 9 seems to bow to things that Toxic White Guy fans hated about 8, like removing a major WOC character).  I personally prefer 8 because it’s a neat subversion on a lot of accepted lore and concepts from the Star Wars franchise and was disappointed in 9 as a result.  But once again it comes down to a matter of taste, and at the end of the day the main thing about Star Wars is fun dialogue and cool sci-fi stuff.

These should be watched after The Original Trilogy because they heavily build on and reference the events of it, though 7: The Force Awakens is a reasonable “First Star Wars movie” if this is the version you’re most interested in...just with inherent spoilers for The Original Trilogy.

Standalone Movies (Rogue One & Solo, 2010s)

Rogue One takes place immediately before The Original Trilogy but is darker and more of a heavy action-drama about people making difficult choices, with a good, largely-POC cast.  Solo also takes place before The Original Trilogy, though I feel it has some clunky writing (a droid character who’s reasonably upset about the literal enslavement of her own kind is treated as delusional and comic relief??) and also gets pretty dark with lots of character deaths, but it has the fun of being a heist movie with a conscience.

Like I said above, these can prrrrobably be watched without Original Trilogy context, but at least Rogue One is probably more rewarding if you’ve already seen 4: A New Hope.

The Mandalorian (TV show, 2020s)

This is the show with “armor guy and Baby Yoda” X’D  It’s basically a Western about a guy drifting from town to town across space and helping people with their problems...which mostly involve fighting and killing people.  As always, amazing designs and special effects, and I find the writing consistently compelling.  There are a lot of bonuses if you recognize a character, character design, or prop design from another Star Wars media, but since you don’t need to know them in order to understand the episode you’re watching, you may not even realize they’re references (which is the BEST way to do a reference).

This takes place immediately after The Original Trilogy, but you can watch this first if you don’t mind knowing who wins the war.  Though there are a few worldbuilding details (like being able to recognize the evil Empire’s uniforms or ships) that are probably a bit less confusing or a bit more rewarding if you've at least seen 4: A New Hope.

Other Media

I haven’t seen/read/etc much of any Star Wars except what’s listed above, so I can’t really offer any advice here.  But the CGI TV show The Clone Wars probably relies on you knowing the plot of Prequel Trilogy eps 1 and 2 (since it takes place between 2 and 3)...and if you’re jumping into some other Star Wars media and you can’t understand what’s going on, look at its copyright date and check what movies came out before it did, to gauge what you’d need to watch for context.  But all the movies only rely on knowledge of other movies, the other media are about fleshing out other aspects of the universe or things that happened between/before/after the movies.

Otherwise all I can say is that the Star Wars: Droids cartoon from 1985 is delightful and the few eps I’ve watched don’t require any Star Wars knowledge whatsoever.  (It’s long out-of-print but some kind soul put it on YouTube.)

[fake-f1-news]

Reasons to Watch F1

So you want to get into F1, but need some convincing, eh? What, you don’t give a shit about motorsport whatsoever, and there’s no way I can change your mind? Well let me change your mind, and tell you why you should watch the sport that pretends to be the pinnacle of motorsport.

Puns

No, I’m not talking about overused “Haas” pun. “Oh, it Haas to be great”. Yeah, you’re funny, using the same pun that millions of people have made hundreds of times before! What about the other teams and drivers, many of whom have punny names, that get overlooked? Renault: I have Renault idea how to make that one work, but it Magnussense to give up. Lotus hope I can figure it out, before pushing the Button, allowing Dan yell Ricciardo to go Max Gas all race, proving he’s a Force India to be reckoned with... I could go on, but I think I’ve made my Racing Point.

Raikkonen

Bwoah, need I say anymore? Drives for Alfbwoah Bwoahmeo (RIP Sauber 1993-2018), and has scored 100% of their points so far in 2019. You’ll forget he has a teammate.

Ferrari are the quickest team

No, genuinely. Watch them dominate the weeken- what do you mean Mercedes have got 1-2 again?! I don’t buy that. It’s just the sort of real news that throws the sport into disrepute.

Valtteri It’s James Meme

Although team orders are absolutely disgusting, Valtteri being forced to let Lewis through in Russia 2018 led to a new meme, and one we must cherish. An example of the meme can be found by clicking on this very sentence. Unavailable on YouTube due to copyright strike by Sky Sports.

Beyond the Grid

Good interviews with important figures in the sport. They’ve had Jacques Villeneuve on, but not Stirling Moss, though, so quality is questionable. Muting volume when Tom Clarkson speaks recommended.

Lando Norris

Despite most drivers taking part in Formula 1′s 1000th race in China, Lando confirmed in a tweet that he had unlocked the secrets to time travel, already taking part in the sport’s 5000th race, 4000 races (or roughly 200 years) in the future. The car he used in F1′s 5000th race looked remarkably similar to a 2019 McLaren, however. Clearly the future people have decided that current designs are superior to any other (for some reason), and have adopted these as their preferred exterior car appearance.

Azerbaijan

With the exclusion of the 2005 US Grand Prix, the 2019 Azerbaijan Grand Prix will now be recognized as the official 1000th F1 race (nothing to do with the Chinese borefest of last week). With Azerbaijan often offering brilliant races,  (unlike a certain Monaco circuit), and either Stroll or Perez getting a podium in all 3 races thus far, what better time to watch F1 than now? Might be the only race all season that a midfield team gets on the podium.

Drive to Survive

The recent documentary about F1, in which the two quickest teams (Mercedes & Ferrari) are absent. Worth watching, if only to see the interactions between Red Bull team principal Christian Horner and Renault managing director Cyril Abiteboul in episode 4. The awkwardness is like watching an episode of The Office (UK version). More of these.

Toro Rosso

Yes, that’s correct. Red Bull got around the owning two teams business by naming their slower team Red Bull, but in Italian. So... Red Bull and (imagine this in an Italian accent) Red Bull. Or, according to their Wikipedia page, “Red Bull Red Bull Honda”. And you thought “Racing Point” was an uncreative name!

Bernd Maylander

With the F1 field having finished behind the safety car 8 times, 7 times behind himself, Bernd Maylander has the unfortunate record of “Most 1st place finishes without winning a race”. Hopefully this bad luck will change for the safety car driver soon.

Murray Walker

He may not commentate on F1 anymore, but watching F1 races from 1948-2001 is well worth it, if only to hear his commentary. 1979-1993 recommended, due to James Hunt commentating with him. Highlights include the race where David pulled across in front of Coulthard, and “1 light, 2 lights, 3 lights, 4 lights, 5 laps.”

[youarenotthewalrus]

this article is dumb, i shouldn’t be hate-reading and you shouldn’t either but here we are so let’s do this:

We begin with a description of a platformer doing something clever and metatextual at the end. Followed by;

What this means is that the game stands in stark contrast to an industry whose products, historically speaking, rely on hijacking the reptile brains of hormone-crazed teenaged boys. In short, the history of videogames is the history of the glorification of violence.

Ah yes, who can forget such bloodthirsty products of the military-industrial complex as Pong, Tetris, Pacman or Zork?

We can debate what constitutes the first videogame, and whether it’s fair to attribute the invention of videogames to the military,

Given the contentiousness of that assertion, I should certainly hope so!

but what’s undeniable is that military engineers—ever ready to coopt, conspire with, or commission innovation from the private sector (e.g., the splitting of the atom, the invention of I.Q.)—more or less immediately recognized that videogames could be employed as a cheap substitute for teaching soldiers how to do everything from fly a plane to take out a sniper.

Kinda reductive to reduce the history of video games to FPSes in general and America’s Army in particular, doncha think?

Anyway, then we get some more waffle about how first-person shooters video games are training us to kill, before we get to the real question: given that this platformer he just finished playing did something a little artsy, can video games be art even despite the fact that were originally works of military propaganda intended to inure potential military recruits to violence? And more importantly, given that this guy seems to think the history of video games began with first person shooters, is he really qualified to answer this question?

Then we get some pointless side chatter over the claim that games are good for your brain, followed by the charge that games are addictive--despite the explicit comparison made to gambling (at “your local Native American casino,” no less), there is no discussion of lootboxes or microtransactions whatsoever, suggesting the author is not aware of specific steps which are taken to make games addictive and is just invoking vague notions of all games being addictive. None of this ever comes up again, and we promptly move back to talking about the actual game.

More specifically, Inside is what’s known as a “2D side-scroller”—meaning that you observe your figure mostly in profile in the center of your screen while a background landscape scrolling right-to-left gives the illusion of left-to-right forward motion.

Somehow, the use of the term “2D side-scroller” in quotes does not make me feel that this fellow is sufficiently familiar with video games to assess whether or not they can be art, as does the fact that he reckons that the platformer he is playing hearkens back to a 1981 shoot-em-up he remembers from his teens, which makes his apparent conviction that video games originated as first person shooters all the more baffling.

And while the world of videogames has already become a “spectator sport,” I’m unaware of any instance of the record of a videogame player’s performance becoming intellectual property, as it has in the world of chess, and in a whole array of sports. True, gamers go “professional” by attracting followers on the internet and earning ad revenue, but their play itself is not copyrighted. Games might wind up in museums (worldwide, there are at least seventeen museums dedicated to videogames), but bracketed moments of the play of particular games have not yet become value-able as art.

I invite the author to start selling unauthorized DVDs of clips from popular Twitch streamers and gaming YouTubers and see how long their lawyers allow him to entertain the notion that Let’s Plays do not constitute intellectual property.

the 2D side-scroller and its pitbull of a cousin, the first-person shooter,

???

The rest of the section is pretty unremarkable, so we move onto him complaining about lousy movie critique, then lousy video game critique, then explaining the concept of Easter eggs, then video game puzzles:

The puzzles of Limbo and Inside are more ambitious than the puzzles of most games in that their solutions often require the player to wait, or to exhibit what in psychology and education circles is known as divergent thought—for example, a corpse is a corpse, but it is also potentially a deadweight that can be used to spring a boobytrap.

Making the player wait or use an unusual object as a weight doesn’t strike me as particularly devilishly clever.

Then we get this jewel of a paragraph:

Nevertheless, puzzles themselves stand as an obstacle blocking the path of videogames’ journey from game to art. For while I might willingly suspend my disbelief long enough to accept that a boy has been tasked with jogging exhaustedly through a factory that churns out invincible blob creatures, I will find that willingness strained when I am also confronted with confounding puzzles placed in my path for no good reason. Videogames, in other words, ignore the basic tenets of internal consistency—in order to keep playing, you must suspend your disbelief, and then suspend it again, and again, and again, which means that in order to play and enjoy videogames you must also suspend the kind of critical judgment that is normally associated with art.

You heard it here, folks, accepting weird gameplay conceits means you can’t critically analyze a game.

Similarly, Easter eggs appeal only on the level of geek fetish—which is more or less the opposite of critical appreciation—and it is for this reason that I won’t address the puzzles and Easter eggs in Inside, even though they eventually lead to what some have concluded is the game’s “hidden meaning.” And this is the problem of videogames in a nutshell, because meaning in work of art is no more hidden from its beholder than the summit of a mountain is hidden from the mountain climber.

Sounds to me more like the problem is that he’s ignoring what the game itself is telling him about its plot and themes because it’s doing it in a way he finds aesthetically displeasing. I don’t know much about critical analysis but I feel like that’s not really how you should be doing it.

We then get a description of the plots of Limbo and Inside, including a decent bit of analysis marred by a bit of “murder simulator”-ism.

This is worth noting because prior to this moment the violence the boy has inflicted, either in Limbo or Inside, has been indirect—really an act of self-defense—but now the game is threatening to creep back into the usual videogame mode of affectless murder. You are given a choice: slip backward toward the wantonly horrific likes of Grand Theft Auto (1997) and Postal 2 (2003) [3] , or pause a moment and then continue on in a macabre but not morally bankrupt pursuit narrative. In this way, the player is implicated in a wryly disjointed bit of commentary on the history of gaming itself.

I mean this entirely sincerely: someone should get this guy a copy of Undertale. I think he’d enjoy it, if he could get past the idea of having to accept JRPG conventions.

Sadly, video game still aren’t art because he can list a bunch of movies that had vaguely similar elements:

From there, it’s not hard to find antecedents for Inside in both literature and film—it’s a little bit Soylent Green, a little bit Logan’s Run, a little bit The Island of Dr. Moreau, and more than a little bit Frankenstein. The imagery starts to seem familiar, too, with milieus lifted from E.T., Alien, and The Poseidon Adventure. But all this allusive flotsam becomes a bit of a disappointment, as eventually you become hard pressed to find anything in Inside that you haven’t seen inside something else.

Ezra Pound demanded that artists “make it new,” and Marcel Proust insisted that a writer is someone who invents a voice as unique as his or her fingerprint, but Inside isn’t even really trying to tell a story that hasn’t been told before. That’s a problem. Art cannot be made up wholly of references to other art. Star Wars, for example, does not come close to art because at its core it is nothing more than a pre-fab mash-up of archetypes mail-ordered from the IKEA superstore of Joseph Campbell.

I mean... why can’t art be composed solely of references to other art? Why can the whole not be more than the sum of its parts? If I take a picture of the Mona Lisa and photoshop a photo of a can of soup over her head, the resulting work is distinct from either of the originals, even though I provided no original content except the idea of sticking the two together.

Put another way, Inside could only have been designed by someone who hasn’t read Roland Barthes’s “The Death of the Author,” and hasn’t read Walter Benjamin’s “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” and hasn’t read T.S. Eliot’s “Tradition and the Individual Talent”—someone who hasn’t, in other words, engaged theoretically with what art is. And that, in turn, leads to the simple conclusion that on the level of its plot Inside is not trying to do what art does.

Good god this guy is snobbish.

Second, there’s still the meta-twist to consider: perhaps Inside is a game with both a text and a subtext. And perhaps a subtext can help the videogame industry evolve beyond the hyperviolence that is its womb and its crutch.

“Hyperviolent” is not exactly how I would describe Breakout or Super Mario Bros. Anyway, he then ponders the potential meaning of the evil scientists at the end of the game being stand-ins for the developers, and comes to the conclusion that...

The problem of games today is that their creators have not imagined any purpose for them greater than fun. There are exceptions to this, of course, but for the most part games equate escape with distraction—to be distracted is to be entertained, and it is good to be entertained.

Unlike the rest of popular media, of course.

The obligation of art, as Henry James described it, is to be interesting, and if you’re paying attention, that is to say, if you’re trying for more than distraction, then Inside begins to be interesting with its name, which stands in stark contrast to games like Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare and Grand Theft Auto: Vice City.

I too enjoy criticizing games for being superficial based on their titles.

Then we get some final analysis, a quote from a Raymond Carver short story I read in high school and remember mostly as something my friends in English class found homoerotic subtext in, and the claim that the goal of art is a feeling of transcendental bliss:

The much remarked-upon narrator of Raymond Carver’s classic short story, “Cathedral,” experiences such a moment as the story climaxes with a blind man helping him draw a church. “My eyes were still closed,” the narrator says. “I was in my house. I knew that. But I didn’t feel like I was inside anything.”

At its most ambitious, Inside aspires to a similar feeling. Escape in art that is not transcendence is cheap, and if you can climb beyond the foolish puzzles and the Easter eggs and the hidden meanings, you can feel, for a moment, that you are not alone on your sofa with your phone, playing a game; rather, you are somewhere else—somewhere grassy, bathed in warmth by a ray of sunlight falling from above.

And that’s nice and all but it feels like he didn’t really lead up to it.

Anyway, I spent way too much time picking through this but here we go. Final rating: 2/10, the next time you want to know if video games are art yet ask someone who actually plays them.

[rissagomes]

A Warrior’s Vow

Genre: Fantasy/Humor

Short Story -Complete

Rating : PG 13.

Wygar has lived through many things, but this latest was the worst of them all. He had lost his family, his friends, became trapped into this alternative realm who was seriously not the best one for his usually sunny disposition (because he was not grumpy, darn it) and now he had lost the last thing that he had left - his little human pet. Now, alone in a very threatening world, Wygar must decide whether he has had enough or if he still has a last quest on him.

Copyright © 2019 by Priscila Gomes Bandeira writing as Rissa Gomes. All rights reserved. This short story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 Chapter 1

"Look at this!"

"Aw, he's so cute!"

Wygar Von Greire, the third son from the honorable Von Greire family, scowled at the two humans who were making cooing sounds at him. Cooing sounds! As if he was an infant or some sort of baby animal! His scowl deepened when one of the humans dared to lower itself on the ground and pick him up with its hands.

"Do you have it?" the infant female who held him in its hands asked, and the other one smiled.

"Yes! Yes, I do! Here." Wygar barely had enough time to breathe before one of the females showed the other a pot and, with care, proceeded to slip the two of them slid him into it.

Wygar sighed. It was the third time he had been met with just such a situation since he woke up on that pile of straw, exactly three hours ago. What was it with the human race that they found it that honorable beings such as himself were collectible? Still, a great being such as himself wouldn't find the situation troublesome – maybe annoying, or even irritating at the worst - if he hadn't much worse things to worry about.

So he once again swallowed the desire to explain to those humans that no, he was not 'cute'. What he was was a legendary warrior from the great Ascardia, the land of gods. He was a lugyeri, and an adult one at that, mind you, a being of legends that was temporarily gracing their realm with his imponent presence.

These humans should have been amazed, honored to have been one of the few to be in the presence of a warrior of the lugyeri; they should be bowing, revering him as their better, their superior. They should not be putting him inside a pot made of glass, nor carrying him away from his temporary home and definitely not thinking that he was cute.

Because he was not.

So, the humans were a tad bigger - ok, a lot bigger. The first time he'd seen a human, eons ago, he had been a tad intimidated. After all, it was hard not to be intimidated by beings that were triple, even quadruple your size.

But he hadn't faltered - a warrior of the lugyeri race did not falter, no. They often faced death with a smile on their face, following the brave God of Air and Storms' commands and fighting until either victory or oblivion.

Now, after spending quite some time with his pet human - a tiny female named Nephelle - he found that he no longer thought of them as being threatening.

Well, maybe his pet was a little more threatening. He felt a little pride when he thought of it, as he had mentored his pet into growing both as a magic user and as a fighter. Of course, it was never going to be as good as he was - it was human, after all, even if it did earn a few perks from the Gods, it would always be just a human.

And it didn't even have the advantages that most humans had - while it was bigger than him, it was still tiny close to most humans - which was why he called it his tiny pet.

Nephelle found it funny for some reason - he could remember his pet laughing at him the day he gifted it with an explanation, the silly human. It should have felt honored to have been graced with his presence alone, never mind an explanation - and she dared to laugh at him!

Well, for some reason he didn't feel as offended as he ought to have been... Probably because he felt a certain kinship to it, as Nephelle - much like himself - had soon found itself locked away from its world. No family, no friends, no nothing.

Its laughter felt a bit like a gift itself... Not that he liked his pet. No. It was just...

Yeah, he understood his little pet.

So, maybe that was why he had decided to adopt Nephelle. He admired the way that it never complained of loneliness, even though anyone could easily see it on the way it talked to plants, carved animals, curtains and... well, nothing sometimes. Even he had never resorted to that...

But then again a warrior of the lugyeri race never felt loneliness. It was a weakness that they did not have. Though a proud race, the lugyeri were not afraid to admit their weaknesses – 'the one who resists owning to their faults is owned by them', Wygar remembered Master Kyan, his favorite, saying. During his long life, he had been called many things but never stupid nor coward... Even if it had definitely been stupidity that had led him on this path he threaded right now, on more ways than one.

What had prompted him to interfere, he wondered, even as he glared at the human girls who dared to carry him - him! Of all people! A noble, honored warrior of the Von Greire lineage! He couldn't bear to think of what his antecessors were thinking of him, they must be turning on their graves. He knew his limits - he was barely an inch tall, on a world of giants. Even the little flying things people called birds seemed to be out for him, only giving up - sometimes - when they learned that he, as well, was a master of flight.

He could use air magic - which was proving to be bloody frustrating. Sure, he could whip a tornado or cause a storm, but to what purpose? He would surely be carried away to yet another place or another time.

And he would still be alone.

Not that he cared. A warrior of the lugyeri race was never lonely, not ever. And if he ventured closer to every human village and city - even after being captured in a glass made prison by a couple of particularly nasty humans - well, it wasn't because he was looking for his missing pet.

He didn't care for it at all.

He wasn't missing the sound of her voice as it chattered at nothing at all or the little house that it had built for him. Nor the little chair it had carved, or the little bites of a thing it called cookies that it left for him to find.

He didn't miss it at all. He was used to having little or even nothing, so this wasn't something new.

With a sigh, he stared around himself. The little females were carrying him around a path filled with flowers and there were some blueish lights hanging from the trees. It would be rather pretty and he would have admired the human's ability to make something already beautiful even more striking... if the little females were shaking the glass with every cheery step they gave. He could probably slip away from this place and dodge the humans - for all they were tall, their brains didn't always seem to grow with their sizes, it was almost laughingly easy to slip away through their big fingers and hide away in the grass.

Still, after this long of a hunt, he couldn't help but feel deflated. Yet another village, yet another human, yet no pet.

Where was his pet?

His belly rumbled and he sighed. He knew he was hungry, but had no will to try to leave his glass prison... not yet. Yes, he was a great warrior of the lugyeri race, but he was no longer a youngster. Were him at home, he would have quite a bunch of kids and grandkids to surround him, all begging for tales of his many adventures.

Unbidden, came the images to his head. His little pet loved hearing the stories of his adventures, particularly the ones that involved his lovely Lariah. How was she now, that he had been gone for so many years? Had she married again? Had she beheaded their children in their sleep when she married again, as the custom demanded?

Or had she remained alone to raise their six babies?

She would be able to do either, he knew. Lariah was a force to be reckoned and he wouldn't be surprised to discover that not only had she raised their babies but that she had also been looking for a way to bring him back home.

It wouldn't surprise him if she succeeded.

He watched as the girls reached a place - a place he guessed was their home, as they walked into it with no fear. Laughingly, they ran inside so fast that he couldn't quite take note of his surroundings. Soon, however, they opened a door and arrived at a place he guessed was their bedroom, because it looked a lot like the one his pet tended to call. Their giggles became even louder as they dropped him onto a bed and rushed towards a dresser to revolve inside it, seeming to search for something.

Taking a deep breath, he dropped to the floor. Soon, he promised himself, soon he would venture out and grab some food. He would go to whatever stood for a resting spot for travelers, listen to the music, to the voices, and hope to discover something. A whisper of a name, a voice, maybe even a physical description of someone like it.

Like his pet.

Not that he was missing it, mind you.

After everything that had happened to him, Nephelle had listened to him. It had given him freedom and also, in a way, a home. A place to come back to, that he knew was safe, warm, and that had plenty of food.

Nephelle had kept him safe for so long, he felt like he owed his pet a little something.

Not that he needed Nephelle's help, mind you. He had been completely able to chug along, as he had just been, proving to any who might have doubted him. He was perfectly able to survive without any help.

But Nephelle might not have been. He didn't remember much from that awful night, but he remembered having seen it, he remembered it had been badly wounded... dying.

It smiled at him - a peaceful, accepting smile. He would never forget that sight: he had seen it far too often from his comrades during battles. It was the peace that came with knowing that you had died for something that was right, that was fair. You died for your cause.

He remembered thinking that it was wrong. His pet was a happy little thing, it was rare the moments he caught her staring at nothing, her eyes filling with tears. And when it was sure there wasn't anybody around, it cried.

Of course, he had been around - his little pet was just a human, after all. It didn't have his perception of the ambient, honed by his intense training and the sheer wonder that was being of the lugyeri race. He had been blessed with many gifts, the one of hiding unnoticed and being able to detect another's presence was just one of them.

But he couldn't lie and tell that he didn't feel a bit of pride at witnessing the tears of a warrior - he might even have shed one or two of his own, not that he would ever admit it out loud. It hit him then that he respected Nephelle, one warrior to another.

The fact that she was of an inferior race didn't diminish her feats, quite the opposite, really. And if Nephelle was able to impress him, a great warrior of the Von Greire lineage, she would be able to do great feats indeed.

Determined, he had tried to yell at her. To shout at his pet, telling it to hang on, to keep fighting... but it felt as if the whole world was crumbling around him. The world was melting into nothingness, and he was falling... His last memory of his pet was of her smiling at him, that peaceful, sad little smile of acceptance of its fate.

But it wasn't dead.

He was very sure of it, his little pet wasn't dead. Wygar had to find it so he could see if it was alright, if it needed food, if it had found shelter.

It wasn't dead.

It didn't matter to him that Nephelle was badly wounded, or that they had tumbled into Philtria, the human continent. It didn't matter that he couldn't even calculate how far they had fallen - until he found his pet's body sprawled somewhere, he refused to believe it.

He was going to find his human pet.

But not because he missed it or, the gods forbid, because he was attached to his human pet. It was just a pet, and like he had adopted one he could easily adopt another clueless human.

Still, it wasn't the honorable thing to do - and his pet deserved this. It had been a good pet.

And he was an honorable warrior of the lugyeri race.

He still remembered clearly his mother telling him, with pride in her voice, of all the things she was expecting of him. She would want him to take care of the human pet. So that's what he was going to do.

And to do it, the first thing he had to do was to leave his little haven of glass.

Suddenly bursting with determination, he got to his feet and started to plan for a way of leaving the pot. He could maybe summon a great wind, but chances were that he would be hurt by a shard of the broken glass; if he made it a soft breeze, however...

Breezes were easier to control - not that he had a hard time controlling even the strongest hurricanes, mind you, but as a man grew older he often learned the uses of subtlety and grace.

He had started to prepare a soft breeze when one of the girls slipped its hand inside the pot and grinned even as it surrounded him.

"Look, he's so cute!"

"He's going to look adorable in this!"

It was with a mix of panic and despair that he noticed that, beside him on the bed's surface, carefully displaced, were quite a couple of different clothes. Some were even dresses! When would a warrior such as himself actually lower himself to wearing dresses? What would Lariah say if she ever heard about this?

In a fit of panic, he bit the finger of the girl who was holding him - and inching closer to the dress, the disrespectful little thing - and dashed past her towards what he expected to be the exit.

It wasn't.

Unfortunately, for all of his good plans and smart thinking, he had forgotten a detail – the giant humans would need an equally giant house. Not all of them would be like his gentle pet and create adaptations for the honorable beings of the lugyeri race.

Thanking his lucky stars that the girls didn't have any pets - not that he was scared of them, he was more than able to get rid of them if need be, of course – but it would take time he didn't have. He had just finished crossing the long corridor as the girls started after him, yelling for their parents to catch their 'pet'.

How dare they, name such a dignified being as himself, a pet? If anything, they would have been the pets, had he decided to keep them.

However, as he already had a pet and had no wish for another, Wygar summoned a burst of wind to help him run faster and slide through the crack between the door and the ground. It was with a huge breath of relief that he found himself once again able to explore freely this land of giants.

Philtria. Who would have guessed?

He took a deep breath, suddenly recognizing the mouthwatering scents of a pork roast, accompanied by mashed potatoes and... he'd guess it was red wine. Making a decision, he summoned a stronger air current and allowed it to guide his body towards the scents.

Humans were quite predictable, really. They tended to gather in places where there was plenty of food and drink, and when they gathered they enjoyed talk – not that different from his race, really, though where the great lugyeri would share tales of their battles and adventures, the humans tended to enjoy talking about each other.

Especially if said other wasn't present.

He surely would discover many things in such a gathering, and information was the first step in any successful quest. Surely a human would have noticed his little, wounded pet.

Glancing at the sky, Wygar, the third son of the proud Von Greire line, did something he hadn't done in so long, he had almost forgotten about its existence entirely. He made a warrior vow, hoping the currents of air would carry the noise to Nephelle's ears.

"I'll find you pet. This I do vow."

Continues...

[almighty-god-saved-me-blog]

Seeing My True Colors Clearly | The Church of Almighty God

Seeing My True Colors Clearly | The Church of Almighty God

Xiaoxiao    Xuzhou City, Jiangsu Province

Due to the needs of the church’s work, I was reallocated to another place to fulfill my duty. At the time, the gospel work at that place was at a low ebb, and the situation of brothers and sisters was generally not good. But because I was touched by the Holy Spirit, I still took on everything that was entrusted with full confidence. After accepting the entrustment, I felt full of responsibility, full of enlightenment, and even thought I had quite a bit of resolve. I believed I was capable and could perform this job well. In reality, at the time I had no knowledge whatsoever of the work of the Holy Spirit or my own nature. I was living completely in self-satisfaction and self-admiration.

Right when I was brimming with self-pride, I met a brother at a host family who was in charge of the work. He asked me about the situation regarding my work, and I answered his questions one by one while thinking: He will surely admire my work abilities and my unique insights. But never did I expect that after listening to my responses, he not only did not nod in appreciation, he said that my work was inadequate, that personnel has not really been mobilized properly, that I haven’t achieved any results, and so forth. Watching his dissatisfied expression and listening to his assessment of my work, my heart suddenly felt cold. I thought: “He says my work is inadequate? If I haven’t achieved any results, then to what extent will I have to go for it to count as achieving results? It should be good enough that I haven’t resented this rotten task and was willing to take it on, and yet he says I haven’t done a good job.” I was very defiant in my heart and felt so wronged that tears nearly started falling. Those defiant, dissatisfied and rebellious things inside me shot straight to the surface: My caliber can only achieve this much; I’ve done my best anyway, so if I’m inadequate then they might as well find someone else…. My heart was feeling extremely uncomfortable and I was at a loss, unsure of what to make of it, and so I was unable to hear a word he said after that. In those few days, my situation went from brimming with self-pride to feeling depressed and disheartened, from being very pleased with myself to having a stomach full of grievances. A sense of loss engulfed me. … Amid the darkness, I remembered God’s words: “Peter sought to live out the image of one who loves God, to be someone who obeyed God, to be someone who accepted dealing and pruning …” (“Success or Failure Depends on the Path That Man Walks” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). What about me? All someone did was criticize me a little, say my work was not good enough, and I felt upset and wanted to quit my job. Is this a person who is willing to accept dealing and pruning? Is this seeking to love God like Peter? Isn’t what I have revealed what God resents? Not wanting others to say I didn’t do good enough and only wanting to receive the praise and recognition of others—isn’t that the basest of pursuits? In that moment, I had a ray of light in my heart, so I opened up The Word Appears in the Flesh and saw such a passage: “It would be best for you to devote more effort on the truth of knowing the self. Why have you not found favor with God? Why is your disposition abominable to Him? Why are your words loathsome to Him? You praise yourselves for your little loyalty and want reward for your small sacrifice; you look down upon others when you show a bit obedience, and become contemptuous of God upon performing some petty work. … A humanity such as yours is really offensive to speak of or hear. What is praiseworthy of your words and actions? … Do you not find this laughable? Surely you know that you believe in God, yet you cannot be compatible with God. Surely you know that you are unworthy, yet you remain boastful. Do you not feel that your sense has become such that you no longer have self-control? How can you with such sense be fit for association with God? Now are you not afraid for yourselves? Your disposition has already become such that you cannot be compatible with God. Is your faith not preposterous? Is your faith not absurd? How will you deal with your future? How will you choose the path to travel down?” (“Those Incompatible With Christ Are Surely Opponents of God” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). God’s words shot through my essence like a sharp sword, rendering me speechless. I was deeply ashamed and overcome with embarrassment. My reasons and my inner struggles vanished like smoke in thin air. In that instant, I experienced the power and authority of God’s word deep in my heart. Through the revelations of God’s word, I finally got to know myself: In the fulfillment of my duty I did not constantly strive for perfection to achieve the best results in order to satisfy God, but was instead content with the status quo and felt very pleased with myself. God says, “… man will ever be as infants before God.” Yet, I not only failed to recognize that my own situation would be resented by God, I even felt wronged when someone criticized me. I really was ignorant and unreasonable! I was always looking for praise for doing a little work, and as soon as it wasn’t received, all my energy would be gone; I sulked petulantly when my efforts were questioned instead of appreciated. At that moment, I saw my face of hypocrisy. I saw that the fulfillment of my duty came with demands and transactions and was full of impurities. It was not for satisfying God or repaying His love, but for ulterior motives.

In the past, when I saw God’s word expose the baseness of man’s humanity, it never used to shine through in my heart and I suspected that God’s word was exaggerating. It was only through God making it manifest that I had an awakening: To be able to fulfill my duty today is God’s great exaltation and His great love. Yet I did not cherish it or treasure it, and instead I pursued things that had no value and no meaning—being praised by people, celebrated by people, noticed by people, and to have standing in people’s hearts. What meaning do these things have? God says man lives not only by relying on food, but also the words expressed through Christ. But what was my life reliant on? I lived by relying on people’s attitude toward me and how they saw me, and I often worried about personal gains and losses because of such things. A few words of recognition or praise or a few words of comfort or consideration would make my energy multiply; a few words of criticism or a negative facial expression would make me disheartened and lose the power and direction of my pursuits. Then why do I ultimately believe in God? Could it be just for the sake of people’s approval? As God’s words revealed, what I cared about was not the truth, not the principles of being human, and not God’s painstaking work, but what my flesh loves, things that have absolutely no benefit to my life. Can another’s enthusiasm toward me prove that God praises me? If I cannot be compatible with God, then aren’t my pursuits still in vain? Thank God for enlightening me! From my own revelations I then thought of Christ’s being, of how Christ came to work on earth to save mankind. But what is mankind’s attitude toward God? He is holy and honorable, the glorious God Himself, but who really treasures God, who lets Him have a place in their hearts, and who truly gives glory to God? Apart from rebellion and resistance, all man presents is blasphemy and rejection, and yet Christ never makes a fuss with mankind or treats people in accordance with their transgressions. He silently endures their devastation and oppression, without ever resisting, but does anyone ever express praise from their heart for Christ’s humility, His kindness or His generosity? By comparison, I saw more and more of my own narrow-mindedness, how I fussed over things, how I always hoped to be praised by people or be valued by them, and other selfish, despicable and shameless behaviors. Even with such lowly character, I still saw myself to be as precious as gold. No wonder God says human sense has reached the point where it has become difficult for mankind to control. God’s words have utterly convinced me. At this time, a kind of longing and attachment for Christ—the Master of all things—generated spontaneously in the depths of my heart. I couldn’t help myself from praying to God: “Oh God! Your disposition, essence, and goodness makes me endlessly envious. Who can compare to You? What You have expressed and revealed among us and everything You have shown to us are all manifestations of Your beauty, Your virtuousness, Your righteousness and majesty. Oh God! You have opened up my heart and made me ashamed of myself, making me bow my face to the ground. You know deeply of my pride, my vanity. If not for Your wonderful orchestrations and arrangements, if not for the brother You sent to deal with me, I would have forgotten who I am long ago. Stealing Your glory yet feeling proud of myself—I really knew no shame! Oh God! Thanks to Your revelations and protection, I managed to see my true self clearly and discover Your loveliness. Oh God! I no longer want to be negative, and I no longer want to live for those lowly things. My only wish is, through Your chastisement and judgment, Your strikes and discipline, to know You, to seek You, and moreover through Your dealing and pruning to fulfill my duty so I can repay You!”

Recommendation: Where Does Eastern Lightning Come From?          Copyright © 2018 the Church of Almighty God All rights reserved

[rondeleeuw]

Muslim Terror Attacks

Well, I think it's safe to declare that we're all appalled by the terrorist attack in Manchester. Once again people got killed because of some delusional idiot who's been promised an afterlife with virgins in paradise. Who's apparently thinking he's not selfishly taking a whole lot of innocent people with him in his desire for this so-called divine reward, but who's most likely utterly convinced he's doing good; perhaps avenging the death of those he deemed innocent. This time it weren't just 'people', it were also children and teenagers for fuck sake! These attacks, organised by terrorist groups or performed by lone wolves, are the new form of warfare. It's a guerilla warfare, not aimed at warriors or soldiers on the battlefield. No, these attacks are specifically aimed at the common folks, to cause panic and collective fear among them. This approach turns out to be rather successful. It's fairly cheap to send a hopeless and deranged individual into a crowd with an explosive device in his backpack. There's no need for an expensive training or costly combat equipment; all it costs is: indoctrination. The investment is minimal and the yield is huge. The yield isn't the number of dead bodies, the yield is the psychological effect afterwards on the survivors and the general public. We're all frightened, simply because we know that another attack will happen eventually, but there are two questions that pop up in everybody's mind thinking of the next attack: when? and where? These terrorists don't look like the insane cold-blooded murderers that they are. They do not stick out; that would, of course, counteract their plans. However, there's one horrible consequence to this new form of warfare. It's called: polarisation. No one should be surprised that right-winged sentiments gained popularity over the last decade. People are afraid of the invisible threat that potentially might lurk from a short distance waiting to strike. It's my firm conviction that no-one's left unaffected by this very uncomfortable threat and the resulting fear. This is also why I do understand so well that many people want to eliminate possible dangerous radicalised individuals. Of course, this results in blatant discrimination and thus also harms those people who have no ill intentions whatsoever; leading into a vicious circle which can only make matters worse. Today I'm thoroughly disappointed with myself because I temporarily felt an intense hatred for all muslims, sensing an even stronger apathy for religion than I usually feel. I'm very afraid that this polarisation can only grow bigger and will eventually cause a serious barbarous civil war resulting in massive blood baths due to ethnic cleansing. I'm worried that such a horrific fate will be a reality one day and that we can't escape this smouldering conflict; irrespective the well-intended attempts to avoid it. I hope so badly, that I'm wrong on this.

Copyright © 2017 Ron de Leeuw