#and yet these last few years hes been so hated because of various reasons.

[anartisticalniche]

Okay quick question

does anyone have like- that one character that you like, but the community and/or the creators made you kinda hate the fact that you liked them in the first place?

Because thats how I feel about this guy

[heliads]

there's things i want to say to you

No one on this earth can get under your skin quite like Lando Norris. It would take something insane for you to be able to move past that. Maybe realizing that Lando's crazy for you would do the trick.

masterlistT

You have one mission for this particular race weekend, one mission alone, and that is to not mess up. On the track, off the track. Don’t fuck it up. This isn’t unusual by any means– flying around corners and down straights at such tumultuous speeds typically means you aren’t angling to make any mistakes anyway, but this weekend in particular needs to be perfect.

Everyone’s on edge right now, not just you. This is the time of year when contracts start expiring, when what had seemed like a decent season might end up being your last. It’s all on the wire, and at last it’s occurring to you, and everyone else for that matter, that their entire career is up to whatever they do on the track.

You’ve already sat down with your PR manager several times to discuss how you should handle this weekend, as well as the next few weekends until you can get a contract renewal locked in. You have no reason to doubt your current team, you’ve been delivering the results as asked, but there’s always the small voice in the back of your head wondering if you haven’t been picking up on the warning signs. You’ve heard of drivers getting blindsided before. Why couldn’t it happen to you?

So yes, although you’ve been just fine since your last contract signing, drivers have been let go for smaller offenses. That’s why you need to be damn near perfect this weekend. If you get through this latest race with no mistakes and some good points, you’ll be just fine. Once you’ve signed to your team again, you can relax. Up until that time, though, your behavior needs to be as proper as you can make it.

You’ve been managing such a task pretty well this whole weekend. Thursday you were nervous but in control all throughout the interviews, Friday landed you some good practices, and you did well enough in Saturday’s qualifying that you have nothing to lose sleep over yet, at least. You just need to get through today, and then luck will be on your side even more than before.

The race will start in less than an hour; you’re wandering the grid in the throngs of other drivers and team principles and spectators. At some point soon, you’ll have to head over to listen to the usual bungling of the host country’s national anthem, but until then, you’re putting on a good face. Your PR manager is flashing you discreet thumbs up whenever you see her. Life is good.

You weave around the various cars, not so close that you’ll be accused of spying but just close enough that you could, you know, if you wanted to. No one minds getting a better idea of their opponents’ sidepod designs anyway. Above all else, you keep an eye out for camera crews; Martin Brundle’s here somewhere, interviewing some poor sap, and you’d like to keep out of his way lest he turn to questioning you instead. The guy’s got a knack for getting under anyone’s skin, you don’t much feel like an interrogation today.

In fact, you can see him right now, eagerly thrusting his microphone towards some hapless driver. You see the papaya cap first, then hear the grating voice, and– well, maybe you’ll drift a little closer than before, because watching Lando Norris get picked to pieces by Martin won’t be the worst start to your race morning after all.

In single-seater racing, everyone is your enemy. At the end of the day, it’s you versus all nineteen other drivers on the grid. This means that you should have no particular arch rival, but if you were going to hate someone more than anyone else like that, it would be Lando by a long shot.

He’s just infuriating, that’s all. It’s like racing with a kid, he never learned to grow up, and every time you have to talk to him, you walk away wishing you could throttle him. Lando annoys you to death, and worst of all, he’s quite aware of it and proud of it, too. Usually, you go out of your way to avoid being near him, but you can make out the displeased look on his face from here, and if Martin Brundle is tearing him to shreds, well, you’d like to hear that more than anything.

You casually adjust course so you’ll be passing behind Lando. It looks like nothing at all, just you trying to navigate the packed grid, but you can hear every word of the conversation happening between Martin and Lando now.

You can’t help but smile as you hear Martin questioning Lando.  “McLaren hasn’t had as good of a weekend so far as they’d like, I think,” Martin is saying, “What’s your strategy to turn that bit of bad luck around?”

Lando’s grin is frozen on his face like plastic. “Uh, we’ll definitely be gunning for whoever’s in front of us with everything we’ve got. Best strategy is to just go for it.”

Martin nods. You’re close enough now that you’re about to walk straight behind Lando, close enough that you swear Martin sees you just before he asks, “Anyone in particular that you’ll be going for?”

“Yeah,” Lando says, scratching his head absentmindedly, “Y/N L/N.”

Perfect timing. The cameraman quickly pans his camera between Lando’s deliverance of this answer to you, right over his shoulder like a devil. The worst part is that you genuinely don’t even think Lando knew you were there or planned it like that. He just likes throwing you under the bus for fun.

Martin chuckles– this must be the best thing for him all morning, really, drama like this gets him talked about like nothing else– and addresses his next question to you. “So, Y/N, what do you think about that?”

Lando turns around, evidently startled, but you just plaster on a smile. “He can try his best, but I won’t be letting anyone through today,” you tell Martin, and leave as soon as you can.

You can sense the cameras following you no matter how far away you go. Damn. And, as you walk further towards a group of your race engineers, you remember the most important part of your PR manager’s advice for this weekend:  avoiding trouble, not just putting on a good face. That hasn’t worked out so well for you now. You do very well in that race, but what the Internet focuses on the most in the days to come isn’t your result but endless gifs of your irritated face in the background of Lando’s interview when he says he’ll be targeting you.

It’s not the greatest, to say the least. So much for playing it cool before a contract is signed. Oh, PR’s going to have a holiday over this one. You’d almost be surprised with the speed at which they suggest a media activity to wipe the slate clean, except for the fact that they’ve probably been counting on you messing something up this weekend so they had to have backup plans. Always nice to be trusted, isn’t it?

The event actually isn’t that bad. They’ve gotten a good amount of you together for some manner of charity work/awareness raising/well intentioned propaganda nonsense. They love putting F1 drivers together on a program outside race week, like it’s some kind of proof they can point to when the press conferences seem more awkward than usual. See, they hang out all the time! Of course they like each other!

(They do not like each other. Not at all. Some do, but. Most are not some. You are not some.) 

Today, drivers will be in pairs, volunteering with children so motorsport can accrue a younger fanbase. Normally, you love events like this, the kids get so excited to talk to an actual live Formula One driver as if they’re typically just in display cases or something. Things will go wrong, fun times will be had, and your PR manager will ease off for a day or two provided that you do a good job. Not the worst thing in the world.

Usually, the organizers of such image-boosting nonsense at least try to put friends together. Quick camera cuts and a good deal of B-roll can only do so much to cover up the missed jokes, the cruel laughs. You’re with your teammate more often than not, a unified front, or else with one of the drivers you’re closer to. It’s easier that way. The smiles come more quickly.

That’s what you expect when you show up. Instead, you glance at the email telling you the place and the name and the time, and you see that you’ll be stationed with– no, no please– Lando. Lando Norris. Lando, the one boy you can’t stand more than anyone.

They know that. Of course they do. It is physically impossible to avoid that fact. As if you haven’t seen the YouTube compilations of terrible moments between the two of you, the Instagram posts with the hateful stares, the TikToks with captivating audios of every time you’ve slighted each other in the paddock or during interviews. You’re a bitch, he’s an ass, and neither of you get to be the good one coming out of those fights, but more often than not, it’s him.

There’s nothing you can do about it now. Causing a kerfuffle will only turn the organizers against you, and you refuse to show weakness in the face of British children, drivers or otherwise, so you keep your smile fake and your mouth shut. This is a good cause. You can hold your tongue for a few hours. The kids will, at least, appreciate it. Hopefully.

Lando’s already at your assigned station when you get there. He’s spinning aimlessly in one of the chairs they’ve given him, and you have to fight to hide your laugh at his rotation speed.

“Trying to train for G-Force, are you? I’m almost impressed with your dedication to the sport, Norris.”

Lando looks up with a start when you speak, and he hurriedly puts his feet down to stop his frenzied spinning. “You’re impressed with me? Glad to hear it.”

You roll your eyes, taking a seat on the chair next to him. “Oh, always. Do you know who put the two of us together on this activity? I want to have words with them.”

Lando snorts. “Not me, definitely. Whoever it is, they’re probably in witness protection at the moment. You look like you’re going to murder someone.”

“It might be you,” you tell him.

He groans. “Come off it. What have I even done to you? Can we not go without fighting for, like, five minutes?”

You scoff. “You’re the one who went after me on live television not three days ago.”

“Oh, you mean the interview with Brundle? That was so not my fault. He tries to trick you into going after other drivers, you know that.” Lando argues.

You arch a brow. “So he specifically tricked you into naming me as your first target? I didn’t know he operated at that level of mental warfare.”

Lando has the grace to look somewhat ashamed. “No. Uh. That may have been me.”

Thankfully, you’re interrupted by one of the event organizers coming in to tell you that the kids are arriving shortly. They pour in soon enough, about dozen children all thrilled to death about the fact that they actually get to talk to you and Lando. You’re soon distracted by the flood of questions directed towards you, ranging from kids wanting to know which drivers you’re best friends with to what superhero is your favorite.

You answer each question with equal solemnity, and before long you’re laughing with ease. You’re meant to be doing crafts and questions, so you help the kids make plastic beaded bracelets while you talk about the different colors of the flags and tyres. All in a day’s work.

Surprisingly, the fact that you have to do all of this with Lando right there beside you isn’t the worst thing in the world. He seems content to just watch you have fun with the kids with this weird, quiet smile on his face, and when everyone’s making their crafts, he’s bent over a project of his own, one that he refuses to let you so much as peek at.

At last, Lando straightens up and presents the finished product with a flourish. “It’s for you,” he says proudly, “Consider it a peace offering.”

You stare at it. He’s made a bracelet for you, complete with the same brightly colored beads that the other kids are using. Except, in the center, he’s spelled out a message—

You frown at him, confused. “This just says ‘driver.’”

“You are one,” Lando points out helpfully. 

There is a fight to not roll your eyes, and you are on the losing side. “Incredible.”

“I also made it in your team colors,” he says. He’s smiling at it. At you. Fondly.

It’s not an expression you usually associate with him, but you’re smiling too, aren’t you? You can’t seem to stop. It’s just— you’re here with him, and instead of fighting, he’s gone to the trouble of making you this. Your colors, your message. Fuck. 

You slip it onto your wrist before you can stop yourself. “Thank you.”

Lando’s grin broadens. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

You let out a frustrated huff. “You’ve ruined the moment. Stop having an agenda.”

“You’re still smiling despite my agenda,” Lando mentions. 

He’s unreal. It’s not as bad as before, though. Not that you’d tell him that much. 

Just in case he actually has ruined the brief moment of peace, Lando raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, then,” he says, “I’ll be better. Name one thing I can do to make this easier on you and I’ll get it done in a heartbeat.”

He’s expecting you to tell him there’s nothing he can do to improve himself in your eyes. It’ll make him seem like the bigger person and he’ll have the upper hand, then. Instead, you tilt your head to the side, considering him, and then at last point your finger at the offense on his chin.

“Shave the half-beard,” you say, “Please. It’s an eyesore.”

“Will that get you to stop complaining?” He asks, mouth twisting up in an amused grin. 

“Nothing can,” you argue back, “I thought you knew that.”

If anything, Lando only seems more pleased by your response. “I’m starting to learn.”

He’s stubbornly unwilling to argue with you. It would be infuriating, but for some reason, it still makes you smile thinking about it hours after you get back home, rubbing your thumb over the beads on the bracelet he strung for you. 

And, when you see him at the paddock for the next race, he’s fucking clean shaven. Not a whisper of a beard in sight. He spots you looking and winks. What the hell. 

It makes no sense. None at all. He doesn’t say a thing about it, and if he won’t, then you can’t either, because you’re not entirely sure that this isn’t just all in your head. Maybe he felt like shaving anyway. Maybe a girlfriend put him up to it or something. This prompts a frantic research session, and after perusing many F1 WAGs Instagram accounts, you’re certain that Lando isn’t dating anyone at the moment. This isn’t important information, of course. You’re just, you know, curious.

You keep the bracelet on. Tucked under a sleeve, always, no one needs to know and least of all Lando, but it stays on. You’re not entirely sure why. Luxury brands have offered you diamonds, but Lando made this for you, and for some reason, that makes it far more valuable in your opinion than anything else. It’s silly, but it’s yours. That’s all.

No one has picked up on the war waging in your head. Your PR manager mentioned once that she was glad you and Lando weren’t actively fighting anymore, and it took you a few moments before you realized she was right. Not only have you stopped sniping at each other in interviews, but a couple races now, he’s actually approached you in the paddock to talk, and what’s more, you’ve let him.

It’s stupid, and unreasonable, and definitely not something you should be devoting so much of your life to thinking about, but now that the seed has been planted in your head, it’s kind of impossible to ignore. Lando gets you water on hot weekends. He helps you avoid Martin Brundle when the commentator is out doing his grid walks. You seek him out to talk through race results. You laugh at each other’s misfortune, but it doesn’t sting like it did before.

He’s insufferable. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s the first time you’ve admitted as much to yourself. You have a feeling that it won’t be the last. There is much more to you, to him, than just the fighting, so much more that you want to explore and express and linger over, but—

But Lando doesn’t want that, does he? Lando is a spoiled brat, a young Prince Charming who is very used to getting what he wants and not at all acquainted with people contradicting that. It’s why the two of you clashed for the first time. If he had wanted you in any sense of the word other than as an enemy, he would have done something about it at the start.

Even now, the two of you have been drunk in clubs before, have walked back to hotels alone in the middle of the night. If Lando wanted something from you, something more, he could have taken it. He hasn’t, so the awful truth you must admit to yourself if this:  he doesn’t want it at all. He’s studiously neutral, but nothing more than that.

It’s starting to gnaw away at you. Lando isn’t the only one who likes getting what he wants. Now that you’ve stopped hating each other, he’s closer to you than he ever has been, but yet it still isn’t enough. You can stand right next to him, can even lean against his shoulder, but it all means nothing.

It’s infuriating. It makes you act up, act out. Your shared friends on the grid invite you out to some gala, and you go because you know Lando will be there, and you leave early because you want him to follow you out. He does, and you two argue the whole way back, because if you can’t have him as you want, maybe you should push him away. It’ll certainly make things easier.

The two of you are squabbling in the back of the taxi about something unnecessary. Probably something he said and you escalated, if not the other way around. At last, you can’t take the weight of his disapproval anymore, and you ask the driver to let you out. It’s close enough to your hotel that you can walk, anyway. Lando can stay in the car and go back to his place. Problem solved.

It is, at least, until he chases you out of the car as well. He’s saying something about how you need to get back in the car, something about an approaching storm. You look up at the darkening sky and realize what he’s talking about. You had half thought that the distant thunder had been in your own head instead of across the city, but storm clouds are descending upon you now.

Lando shakes his head exasperatedly, hurrying you towards the door of the hotel. It really isn’t that far, but he still threatens to carry you there at least twice. His temper only grows more taut when he starts seeing lightning in the distance. It isn’t even raining here yet, but he doesn’t relax until you’re both through the door and out of harm’s way.

You, on the other hand, only freeze up when the roof is at last over your head. It occurs to you, not three steps into the shelter of the lobby, that your wrist is bare. Underneath your jacket, you reach over to scratch absentmindedly just beneath your other palm, but instead of hitting plastic beads, they touch only blank skin. You freeze in place, gaze swinging wildly to your forearm, but it’s true, the bracelet is gone. You don’t remember it coming off, but it’s gone now.

A frantic search of your pockets reveals nothing; as if they’re deep enough to hold anything, anyway, least of all this all-important thing. The bracelet was on your wrist when you left the cab, so it must have been lost while you were outside. It wouldn’t have been that long ago now. You could still find it.

Lando groans in irritation when you immediately make for the doors once more. “Y/N, come on–”

You’re ignoring him, though. Lando’s going to think the worst of you anyway, and you want your bracelet more than you want his incensed remarks about how it’s such a bad idea to stay out in this weather. The storm is hurriedly dawning upon you, and the trees lining the walkways shake as if with fright or chill, but that doesn’t stop you from retracing your steps, silently praying that you’ll find the one thing you cannot bear to lose. You can buy an awful lot back, misplacing jackets or other jewelry isn’t that big of a deal, but that bracelet– well, Lando only made one of those, and it was yours.

You didn’t walk that far when you were out here, all things considered, so you’re able to pinpoint the possible bracelet locations quickly. Either here, behind the flowering tree, or there, along the stone walkway—

Lando has followed you out, raising his arm over his face to protect from the spattering of raindrops now starting to fall from the sky. “Y/N, come on, I’m serious, we have to go in.”

You hold up a finger, still looking only at the ground. “Just give me a second.”

Lando heaves another tremendous sigh. “What are you even doing?”

“Trying to find something I lost.” You have to raise your voice to be heard over a clap of thunder which, although isn’t necessarily nearby, still makes Lando flinch as if the ominous sound came from overhead. 

“It isn’t worth it,” he says, “we can find it later, I promise. Just get inside, will you?”

“No!” You shout back.

Lando casts a frantic look up at the approaching storm, then rushes over to stand in front of you, blocking you from moving any further. “Y/N, please. What could possibly be important enough to stay out here? You’re going to get struck by lightning.”

You try to escape past him, but Lando stays firm, refusing to budge until you tell him what the matter is. At last, you give in. “Fine. It’s your bracelet, the one you made me. You made it for me, I’m not losing it. You may not like me, not like– Not like I like you, but at least I can have that. That’s what I want.”

Lando’s face goes blank. Whatever he was expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. The naked surprise in his expression makes your stomach twist with shame, and you turn away, headed back to your search once more. Lando was caught off guard by your answer, so he isn’t able to stop you.

You hurry away from him. You don’t know what he’s thinking, or, hell, why he even made you the bracelet in the first place. Maybe it was for a specific reason, but it was probably just supposed to be a joke, something to be used against you, but you kept it anyway. You kept it, and you treasured it like gold.

You run further into the storm, away from him. The rain starts to fall even more than before. Maybe it’s okay, though. If the storm carries you away, if it drowns you in the flood, at least you won’t have to face him again. You look from side to side, searching for any pocket of plastic colors, but nothing, nothing.

Nothing, and then Lando’s voice, faint because of the storm, but still there somehow. Still there, despite everything you’ve said to him.

“I wanted you,” he calls back, shouting to be heard over the ever quickening wind. “I wanted you, but you hated me, and I thought it was better if we were enemies than nothing. At last then I could still talk to you.”

You feel as if you’ve been struck by lightning. The shock of it freezes you in place, even as the rain pounds down in sheets around you, chilling you through skin to bone and blood. It is only now, once your frenzy has been replaced by sheer immobilizing surprise, that you stand still long enough to spot the bracelet at last, tucked inside the cup of a stone on the walkway.

You reach out to pick it up, but your hand meets someone else’s before your fingers can close around the beads. When you look up, it’s him, it’s Lando, just as soaked from the rain as you, but here. Still here. Still here, for you.

He slides the bracelet over your wrist, then leans closer, just enough that you can feel the reverberations of his whispered hurry as he whispers it to you before urging you back towards the hotel once more. He’s pulled off his jacket and holds it above the two of you to protect from the wind and rain. It forces you to run so close to him that you can feel the heat radiating between the slim space from his ribs to yours. 

You feel it still, even after you make it past the threshold of the hotel and stand there, shivering, just behind the glass doors. You can see the storm wild outside– so crazy to think that you’d just been out there, with the wind tearing at the trees and the rain so devastating– but in here, it’s calm, completely still.

Lando remains just a breath away, slowly lowering his dripping jacket away from your head. “It’s you,” he repeats, “It’s always been you.”

After all of that, all of those revelations and discoveries, he still has it in himself to surprise you. The kiss is unexpected, but not unwelcome, and warms you head to toe despite the cold of the rain still pressed deep within your bones. It’s welcoming, inviting, and it tells you that despite everything, every fight, every reason not to stay– it will only get better from here.

f1 taglist: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

[ichorai]

the wolf and the beast ; toji fushiguro.

part of the A SONG OF CURSES AND CROWNS collection!

pairing ; assassin!toji fushiguro x stark!f!reader

synopsis ; nobody told him that his target had a direwolf.

words ; 3.3k

themes ; fantasy, asoiaf au, assassin au, prisoner au, enemies-to-???

warnings / includes ; mentions of murder, descriptions of injury/blood, classism, foul language, toji hates your wolf, toji stealing from a whorehouse LMAO

main masterlist.

Lannisters paid good money for their dirty work to be done by someone other than them. Toji was more than happy to comply once he heard the price for your head was enough to last him a few years, maybe even more if he stopped betting on jousting events. He asked no questions, and didn’t bother dwelling on the reason why they wanted you dead. Though, if he had to guess, it might have been because you were the most eligible noble lady to be married off to the king (a white-haired cunt, Toji liked to call him). Being Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms was clearly a position the Lannisters were hungry to get their claws on. 

Toji didn’t really care. He was just happy to get the gold.

It was supposed to be a simple, easy task. After all, you lived in a cushy castle, draped in expensive furs and coats, eating the softest of breads and drinking the sweetest of nectars. The spoiled brats were always the easiest to take out. 

Getting into Winterfell went smoother than he’d expected. A few miles down the road leading to the castle, he’d killed two men driving a horse-led cart full of wine barrels—meant to be delivered right to Winterfell. 

And so he got through the South gate with ease. The guards interrogated about the wine, and Toji prattled on about the aging process of the alcohol, the special concoction of grapes and infused spices, the sweetness of the reds, the tartness of the gold wines, and whatnot. None of it was really true, of course. Toji just spoke out of his ass, pulled out product papers he found in the satchels of the men he killed, and smiled charmingly when the guard waved his hand to let him pass.

A gangly, young stableboy with red hair and blue eyes escorted him to cellars, where the wine barrels would be stored. And, after asking the little boy, Toji realized, to his utter delight, the Great Keep was just above him. 

Up the cobblestone staircase he went, far louder than a mouse, but Toji moved quick enough for it not to matter. 

There was one problem, however. He hadn’t taken into account the possibility of you not being in your chambers. Which, you clearly weren’t. The entire Keep was silent and vacant, save for a few handmaidens he spotted collecting soiled laundry. He made sure to keep out of their sight.

And so, Toji settled for waiting in the largest chamber—which he assumed was yours, being the Warden of the North and all. He glanced around, inspecting all the trinkets laid about on your desk: silver jewelry, shoddy wooden carvings of wolves, and, interestingly, various scabbarded daggers. He pocketed what looked to be of some value. He inspected some more, lazed around on your large bed, and rifled through the many furs and fine garments in your closet. Many of the dresses he held up to his chest spanned only half the width of his broad shoulders, much to his amusement.

Hours later, once footsteps echoed down the hall, Toji sprang up from the polished wooden chair (he totally hadn’t fallen asleep) and hid behind the door. 

You strode in, covered in dirt, snow, and dried blood. There were leaves clinging to your hair. It seemed that you’d just gotten back from a hunting party. You had yet to spot the tall, burly man in your chambers, your back still to him as you began to shirk off your boots.

That was when Toji moved. 

Curved blades in hand, Toji surged forward and aimed to stab you right through your heart—

You turned around just in time to see your direwolf lunge at the figure, her sharp teeth sinking into Toji’s shoulder. The man let out a startled cry of pain, the weight of the wolf sending him careening down to the ground, his head cracking against one of the posts of your bed. Stars danced about his vision as pain shot down from nearly every part of his body.

Its teeth tore through the musculature of his bicep and collar, its claws tearing through his tunic and the skin of his abdomen with each swipe. Toji landed a poorly aimed strike to the direwolf’s midriff, but she merely grew more aggressive in her ministrations. 

Nobody had told him you had a fucking direwolf.

If he’d known, he would’ve reconsidered taking the job. He still would have agreed, in the end, the gold was too much to turn down, but it would’ve been good information to know beforehand. 

Curse the Lannisters. Curse their gold. Curse you and your stupid pet—

“Down, Reika,” you ordered, which had the accursed beast backing away from him with snarling, bared teeth, dripping with what he assumed was his blood. “Good girl.”

Toji made a strangled noise of pain as he attempted to sit up.

“It’s been a long day,” you stiffly told him, eyes narrowed as you knelt down and pressed one of the daggers from your desk—now unsheathed—right over his jugular. The cold metal kissed his skin and he immediately stopped moving. He could see his weapon scattered an arm’s length behind you. There was no way he could possibly reach it without you slitting his throat first. “Hunting party gone wrong. I wanted nothing more than to come home and take a long, hot bath. And what do I have to deal with? A sad attempt at an assassination, and my carpets covered in your blood.”

Toji scowled, but said nothing in return. 

“Guards,” you said, strangely calm for someone who had nearly (if not for your wretched, overgrown dog) been assassinated. “Take him to the dungeons.”

As Toji was dragged away, leaving a dripping trail of blood in his wake, he caught a glimpse of you kneeling by your wolf, your hand shaking with adrenalized fear you hadn’t dared show in front of him. He was glad he was able to see it—just a glimpse of weakness was more than enough ammunition for him.

The dungeons were cold and dreary. Much like the rest of the North, Toji bitterly thought. It was hard to see as well, for the sparse few torches hanging on the walls only barely lit the walkway. 

He could hear everything, though. Dripping of water in the distance. A raven cawing outside. The torch’s flame whispering greed to the air. Footsteps growing louder—

Toji sat up against the wall when a figure stepped in front of the wrought metal bars, dark with decades of use and age. 

“Food,” came your voice. “I don’t usually do this, you know.”

The man, your prisoner, lazily tilted his head up from his position on the ground to look at you, his gaze dropping down to your hands where one carried a bowl of braised meat and the other held a chalice of wine. The chalice alone was probably worth more than anything he’d ever owned in his life.

“Bring food to a man? I can tell,” Toji dryly responded.

Your expression remained unchanged. “Bring food to a prisoner.”

It was then that Toji noticed a pair of glowing eyes by your legs, the beast’s tale curling over the back of your knees. The maester might have bound him up nice and clean (though not without pursed lips of obvious disapproval), but his wounded shoulder still throbbed with terrible pains. 

“You brought your dog,” he observed.

“Wolf,” you corrected. “Her name is Reika.”

“Wretched thing,” Toji half-heartedly snarled.

The beast snarled back at him. Its eyes, amber and sharp, only grew brighter with agitation.

You decided to ignore his comment. “Do you want to tell me what you were doing in my chambers?”

There was clear disdain in your features, from what little Toji could see of it anyway, but he could also pick up on the evident curiosity there—it wasn’t every day you had to deal with a Southern commoner.

“Won’t make much of a difference now, would it?” he drawled, kicking his feet out so he could rest his elbows over propped-up knees.

“Your choice of words could very likely spark up a war between houses,” you said. It was said as a jest, though you knew it was a large possibility. 

“Would be no fun to start a war if I’m not there to partake,” came his reply. His stomach cinched as he inhaled sharply, the warm smell of peppered venison wafting through his cell. “You came here to give me food and yet you’re still clutching onto it like a babe with its mother’s teat.”

“You have a foul mouth,” you said, now slightly amused. Who knew the Warden of the North had a sense of humor? “Tell me who sent you. Then comes the food.”

Toji glowered some more. For a minute, he considered what you’d do if he simply refused to say anything. But his tummy grumbled, and his resolve dissipated into mist.

“The Lannisters paid me a pretty sum to have you dead,” he said. 

To his interest, you didn’t seem a single bit surprised. “Ah. Yes, I suspected so. Jenna Lannister was particularly prickly to me last we met.”

“Are you going to give me the food or what?” Toji barked, words heavy with irritation. He really couldn't care less about your snooty endeavors.

“I don’t want the throne,” you went on, much to his chagrin. Though, you did lower yourself to his same position and slipped your wrists through the bars to place down the bowl and chalice. “Not the Iron one, at least. The burden is heavy… and the North is enough for me. Marrying the king means I’d have to sire heirs, and I have no interest in doing so. Winterfell is not short of Starks—my brother and his lady wife have had enough little children for our name to carry on the family legacy for centuries.”

Toji could have easily grabbed at your wrists and slammed your head bloody into the bars. Your stinking mutt made him pause, however, and you pulled away before he could make a move. 

Besides, he was hungry.

Toji tore at the meat like a rabid animal. It fell apart in a deliciously tender manner. Hot soup dribbled down his palms, which he ravenously licked away. You didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, you took a seat opposite his cell and watched him with clear fascination.

“How’d you get that scar?”

Toji chewed at a particularly large chunk of meat and swallowed it with little effort. “Not everyone grows up in a lavish castle eating pastries and meats and sucking squire cock.”

It took you a moment to respond, but when you did, your words were calm and flat. “I’ve brought you meat. If it is pastries and squire cock you require, you need only ask. Give you a taste of a lordly life.”

Now you really must have been japing. Mocking him, even. Toji didn’t find you all that funny. 

“Why are you here?” he gruffed around another mouthful after taking a long swig of wine. “Are friends hard to come by in the North? Or is it just you?”

That seemed to strike a nerve. You sucked at your teeth. 

“I saw you,” he pressed. “As your guards dragged me away. I saw you looking scared. Cowering by your wolf because I nearly got you. If that beast hadn’t been there, you would have been long dead. It would suit you.” Toji’s eyes gave you an intrusive onceover, despite all the layers you were wearing. “You’d make a lovely corpse.”

“Only a fool fights back fear,” you shot back, though it was quite obvious that your confidence had taken a blow. “Fear keeps us alive.”

Toji made a humming noise into the bowl that he picked up to slurp at the last remaining drops of soup. 

“More,” he demanded once he pulled his face away, tongue laving over his lips to catch what had smeared over his mouth. The portion you had given him was ridiculously small.

Perhaps that was a calculated choice. Toji only realized that when you spared him a cold little smile. 

“Hey!” he growled out when you pushed yourself back onto your feet. “I’m fucking starving here!”

Silent as a wraith, you strode out of the dungeons with Reika padding along beside you.

Much time passed. Each night (Toji assumed it was night, he could hardly tell since there were no windows anyway), you would come down with a bit of food and drink. You would sit and talk with him about the most mundane of things, the most asinine of topics, and the most boring of subjects. Toji yawned and yawned so you would take the hint, but you ignored him each time.

He was beginning to think you truly didn’t have any friends up there. Other than your stinky mutt, of course.

There was even one time where you had opened the grating. From what he heard, Starks were quite religious folk—slobbering all over their bloody trees and old gods. He’d told you he wanted to see the Godswood as he himself was devout (he, of course, was nowhere near devout and hadn't prayed a single day in his life), and you, with softened eyes, reluctantly agreed on the condition that he remained shackled and quiet. 

He killed a guard that night trying to escape. You struck him with a terribly strong blow to the back of his head, and your damned wolf sunk its teeth into his shin. The maester was none too happy to see him again. No milk of the poppy was administered, so he suffered through the pain. It was all worth it, though. He was outside of the dungeons for a grand total of two seconds, and the air had never tasted so clear and so sweet. 

You were angry at him for quite a while but still found it in you to visit nearly every day, which Toji found highly amusing. Then you grew soft on him again (which took many moons), and Toji oft wondered if you usually pardoned prisoners this quickly. 

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Toji asked on the seventh moon of him being your prisoner. Of course, he had asked this question multiple times before, but your answer seemed to always vary.

You may be of value. You do not deserve death. The gods smile at mercy. Reika likes you. 

Those were all reasons you’d given him before. Though Toji had a very hard time believing the last one.

You regarded him with knitted brows. “If I’m being honest… I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

Toji drew his head back in surprise. Then, an arrogant, flirtatious smile flitted over his scarred mouth. It was the same smile he used to use on whores in the Street of Silk so they would take him to their seducing chambers—he could never understand how the drawers and shelves of whorehouses seemed to always have an abundance of loose coppers and silvers. 

“But—” You began to continue but Toji quickly cut you off.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said, lifting a hand up. You frowned. “You’ve fallen in love with me. And you’re thinking that if the circumstances were different, we’d be pawing at each other’s bodies like there was no tomorrow. And you worry that your people wouldn’t approve. You needn’t worry about such matters—I’m sure Northern folk would regard me as your equal if you let me out of the cell and force me into marriage. That would make me their liege lord, wouldn’t it?”

An indignant look settled over your features, your skin flushed as if you’d downed a heady drink.

“Are you mad? Of course I’m not in love with you, you imbecile,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “Besides—I’m not looking to marry anyone. And if I was, you’d be the very last on my list, thank you very much.”

Toji didn’t even have the gall to look embarrassed at his bold assumption.

“I had to try, didn’t I?” He gave you that lazy smirk once more. “Being Lord of Winterfell sounds like a cushy life. Cushier than this one, at least.”

“Well…” You toyed with a frayed thread on your robes. “I can offer you a life cushier than prison.”

Toji snorted. “I’m not going to be a glorified stableboy or a squire. I’d much rather sit here and have you bring me food than the other way around.”

“I considered sending you to the Night’s Watch,” you admitted with a ponderous look. “There are plenty of men like you there—I’m sure they would welcome another good fighter.” Toji didn’t have time to snark about how you’d complimented him before you were already speaking again. “But then I realized that you might still be of use to me.”

“I’m a good bed warmer,” offered Toji. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laid on a plush bed. Not since yours, at least. He thought about your bed often. Usually without you in it. The times he did imagine you there, your wolf always came in and ruined his entire lovely daydream.

You spared him an unamused look. “I want you to be my spy. Ears and eyes for me down South. Particularly in the West, where the lands crawl with Lannister cock-sucking houses. I need to know what they plan so I can be five steps ahead.”

A moment of silence passed by. Toji’s upper lip curled into a sneer.

“No,” he began to protest. “Why in the seven hells would I—”

“I’ll pay you with enough gold to sink you to the bottom of the ocean. And once you have tired of gold, I’ll fill you with as much venison stew as your heart desires. And once you get sick of that, I will find you a Northern castle and grant you the title of a lord for your services. You’ll live the rest of your days comfortably. Granted you do as I tell you, of course.”

That made Toji pause and consider your offer.

“Why me?” he finally asked. He drew nearer to the bars, nearer to you. 

“You’re a Southerner, aren’t you? You know the lands better than any of my loyal Northmen. You’d… fit in.”

Toji wanted to laugh. He wasn’t ever very good at fitting in.

“How do you know I wouldn’t just lie to you and ally myself with the Lannisters?”

“Because,” you huffed, nose wrinkling. “You think they’re all cunts. You’ve said it yourself plenty of times. And—I’m not foolish enough to have you as my sole plant. If you lie, I’ll know. And I’ll have Reika hunt you down… and she won’t be held back this time.”

She was holding back the previous times? Toji distantly thought with a scowl. 

“What do you say?”

“It’s a far journey down South. You’ll miss me.” Toji’s cheek pressed up against the uneven metal bars. They were so cold it felt as if they were burning right through his flesh. 

“I’ll find another prisoner to entertain,” you replied, eyes glimmering. Another jape. You didn’t deny his words, however.

A moment of considerable silence passed. Toji bowed his head ever so slightly. The first time he’d ever done so to you.

“I’m in, Wolf.” It didn’t pass his notice how your eyes lit up, how your back stood a little straighter, how your fingers curled excitedly into the fabric of your riding cloak. You didn’t even seem to mind the nickname he’d given you. “When do I start?”

[ysmtttty]

Red Ferrari

Chapter 3

Azris AU, where Azriel is a mechanic and has his own service station. One day, Eris comes there because something is wrong with his car. AO3 Chapter 2 Chapter 4

Eris thought that the next morning wouldn't be as terrible. Yes, he had left a lot of paperwork for today to avoid distractions last night, and yes, he already regretted it because the amount of work seemed unreal. And the whole morning felt worse than a hangover, which he didn't even have today.

Maybe life hated him. How else could he explain the calls he had been receiving on his phone for the past two hours from people he would be more than happy to erase from his life forever, and for some reason, two of them had the surname Vanserra.

Then the terrible morning continued with an annoying client who wouldn't stop trying to use all his connections to ensure Eris was his lawyer in court, despite Eris having said three times that he had no interest in the case.

How ironic that this case was a divorce, where the client was trying to do everything possible to leave his wife with absolutely no money, leaving her and the kids with nothing. Eris had defended many dubious people throughout his career. When you're young and trying to break into a very competitive work environment, you don't get to choose your cases. Over the past seven years, he had earned the title of the devil's advocate in certain high society circles precisely because he defended, and defended perfectly, many dubious people.

However, this particular case disgusted him. Maybe because of its irony, as he was going through the same thing right now. Fortunately, he had no kids who would undeservedly be caught in this mess. In general, helping some offended jerk keep his yacht and penthouse, leaving the kids homeless, was not something Eris intended to do.

He ran a hand through his already tousled hair, leaning his elbows on the wooden desk, which was chaotic with various documents. Some of them were work, but most were property division contract options. You'd think, being a savvy lawyer, he would have thought of a prenuptial agreement before the wedding, but everything changes when the wedding is arranged, meaning they weren't supposed to divorce at all.

Yet here he was, ignoring calls from his ex-wife, who was actively trying to take as much money as possible.

His grim mood was interrupted by the timely entrance, as always without knocking, of Lucien, carrying two paper cups of coffee, one of which he handed to Eris.

“Tell me,” he said, settling into the comfortable armchair by the panoramic window. A few years ago, during renovations, Lucien had insisted on helping choose the furniture. It turned out he had only helped choose the armchair, on which he often sat whenever he felt like barging in his brother’s office.

“About what?” Eris asked tiredly, rubbing his eyes, which were already sore from looking at countless documents and contracts.

“How did your date go last night, of course! Do you expect to just leave your younger brother in the dark and get away with a simple 'fine' over the phone?”

Eris rolled his eyes. His younger brother had too much free time. Way too much.

“It went well, I suppose,” he said, taking a sip of coffee – good coffee from his favorite café nearby. Well, maybe Lucien wasn't as annoying with his unceremonious habit of barging into his office like it was his home and gossiping.

“And more details?”

Eris sighed. He didn't know how to explain what last night was. Freedom? Something completely new, incomprehensible, simultaneously attractive and frightening. Azriel seemed like pleasant company. Despite the rudeness and habit of taking everything defensively, he was easy to talk to. Very easy.

So much so that at some point in the evening, Eris found himself not thinking before saying something. In a frightening way. He always thought ahead. Eris was used to calculating everything down to the smallest detail, every phrase, every word, used to planning strategies and strictly following them, ruthlessly eliminating any possible risks that could undermine that strategy.

However, yesterday was different. Maybe he was just desperate – tired of the daily routine, in which he earned a living by saying the right word. Tired of expecting a knife in the back from every acquaintance in his circles, because with the number of enemies he had made over the years, it was quite expected. Tired of the need to be a bastard because he was in a world of bastards.

Azriel was different. With Azriel, Eris didn't feel the need to be someone; he just was… Eris. A strange feeling considering that in recent years he had been absolutely certain of who he was – the devil's advocate who ruined reputations, lives, careers, who knew every loophole in the law, who built his business and would protect it fiercely. But yesterday he felt different.

Azriel was genuine, as much as it was possible. A stark contrast to those Eris dealt with regularly. Maybe it was this sincerity that made him be… more open too? He wasn't sure. But with Azriel, he felt he could open up and not get a knife in the back. It was a breath of fresh air, after which he desperately didn't want to return to the suffocating reality. Didn't want to, to the point of pain and hysteria.

Eris was somewhat irritated by how Azriel unknowingly made him feel. Maybe this date was a huge mistake that he would regret in the future, but Eris didn't want to think or worry about it. If it was a mistake, he wanted to make it. He didn't care. His future self would deal with the consequences, and his future self clearly wouldn't thank him, but he was already tired of worrying about that version of himself, building countless strategies and plans.

"We walked around the car showroom, looked at cars, and later had a drink together, nothing more," Eris shrugged, answering Lucien's question about the details. Lucien rolled his eyes at his dry tone.

"And you didn't talk after that?" Lucien continued to ask.

"No," he shook his head. "He didn't text, and I don't want to impose."

Lucien eyed him. "Weren't you visiting his workshop all week?"

Eris rolled his eyes again, finishing his coffee and tossing the cup into the trash under his desk.

"And I got my date, now if he's interested in continuing this, he will reach out," he said. Eris Vanserra wasn't desperate for love. He already made his move, now it was Azriel’s turn.

"Do you think he'll brush you off?" Lucien asked, without a hint of mockery. Eris even wanted to hit him on the head for looking so sympathetic at that moment. Eris didn't need sympathy.

"I think Azriel is a big boy who can make adult decisions without my interference," Eris replied, gathering the documents on his desk into a pile. "And I also think I should be busy with work, not gossiping about dates with you as if we were schoolgirls."

"Come on, no court case will be as interesting as my brother suddenly getting interested in relationships."

"I'm not interested in relationships," Eris lied. I'm interested in a specific person, his mind said.

"Yeah, because convincing someone to go on a date with you for a week clearly shows your 'lack of interest,'" Lucien snorted.

"I already regret telling you about this."

"Alright, alright, no mentions of your love affairs. We can talk about mine," Lucien grinned widely. Eris couldn't hold back a chuckle at the sight of his younger brother being so happy, it was almost disgusting. Love-struck fools, what could you do? "Friday, seven in the evening, remember?"

"Yeah, to help you book a table at Sapphire because you so nobly helped me find a car showroom for my date yesterday," Eris rolled his eyes. "And, of course, to drive you there because your unemployed ass can't afford a car."

"I am not unemployed," Lucien frowned, clearly offended by this comment. "I'm balancing courses and working at the bar. And yes, Eris, that still counts as a job."

"Get lost already," Eris waved his hand, shooing his younger brother away.

After Lucien left, Eris received a new client. The client talked about scammers and how he needed protection from "false" accusations. Half of the precious time was spent making him confess that the accusations were anything but false. Eris didn't even try to be polite, speaking directly and bluntly.

Later, the client offered him double the fee just to get Eris to agree to defend him in court. And in the current situation, Eris, with all his arrogance, didn't particularly want to turn down double fees.

As soon as he was alone in the office to sort out the papers and devise a strategy for the client's upcoming hearing, his phone rang. For just a second, Eris hoped it was Azriel. After that second, his gaze fell on the already hateful name, and he suppressed a flash of anger, reminding himself that if he threw his phone at the wall now, he would have to spend time buying a new one and transferring the data.

"Mor," he said, picking up the phone.

"Hello, Eris," came a voice, too cheerful for a call between ex-spouses. "I was starting to worry that you were ignoring me. Which I strongly advise against."

And here they were. Mutual threats, passive aggression, mind games. Eris closed his eyes and tried to count to ten mentally but stopped at five because he knew Mor was impatient and would say something else soon.

"Did you want something?" he asked in a calm voice. Despite the fatigue and anger, he wasn't stupid enough to show her any of it. If Eris survived his father's house all his childhood, he would survive the divorce.

"My lawyer has prepared all the documents you requested and is asking where to send them," Mor said innocently.

"Then explain why you're the one calling me, not him?" Eris asked, raising an eyebrow, still maintaining a neutral tone.

"Maybe I missed your voice," Mor replied, and Eris wanted to jump out the window. Because she hadn't missed him at all, and they were far from loving spouses. "Or maybe this morning, your father's man paid me a visit, informing me that he is aware of our divorce and is very much against it."

"I'll handle it, don't worry your pretty little head about grown-up complicated things," Eris scoffed. "Have your lawyer send the papers to my work email, I think you should have it. Your answer to my offer is still no?"

"Correct. And your answer to my offer?"

"Have a good day, Mor," Eris hung up. The phone didn't fly into the wall, but it did land on the desk with a loud thud.

Like hell he would agree to Mor's proposal to give her more than half of the property, considering that she hadn't worked a single day in the past four years and spent all her time going to bars and clubs with her friends, occasionally spending thousands of dollars on shopping. Eris frankly didn't care what she did. He didn't care that she spent the money he earned, because...

He didn't know why. Maybe he just felt sorry for Mor back then. Sorry that she ended up trapped in this marriage just like he did, with no way to escape this hell. Sorry that she had to leave all her career ambitions in Europe because her father, being the bastard he was, managed to drag her back home only to send her straight to the altar.

Maybe Eris hoped that they understood each other. That after so many years, after they had gone through the phase of throwing sharp words and objects at each other, and through the phase of ignoring each other, they had become something like... good acquaintances. Friends, if saying really boldly.

Eris could easily admit that he wasn't a good husband. Hell, he didn't care who lived in his house and spent money on yet another Louis Vuitton bag, because for him, only his work mattered. But in the past year, he thought that he and Mor understood each other.

That was a mistake he was still paying for.

Because being too candid with the wrong person can come back to bite you in the ass in the future. And here he was, living in that very future, sorting through lawyer's papers and preparing for their first court trial next week.

When Mor's lawyer sent him the papers, Eris noticed additional attachments in the email. Damn her. The viper had resorted to blackmail. Real blackmail.

They had been exchanging words for the past month, trying to discuss their divorce and all the details civilly. Initially, they were even meeting each other halfway, but at some point, greed took over, and they started exchanging threats.

However, those were just words, and Eris prayed that it would stay that way, because aside from the problems with Mor, he also had to deal with his own father and father-in-law, both of whom hated him for this divorce. But Mor was not as magnanimous as he had hoped, and to prove her point, she sent him evidence.

Reminding himself that he was a lawyer and could figure something out, Eris took a deep breath, pretending he was in control of the situation. That he had some semblance of control in this hell. That he wasn't on the verge of losing everything he had worked for over the past seven years just because he wanted freedom.

By Friday, nothing had changed. Eris had nearly finished the case with his client, leaving the court hearing for the following week; he hadn't received a single message from Azriel, which was expected but still left an unpleasant feeling in his chest; he had ignored five calls from his father, three calls from Mor, and one call from Mor's father. The number of people who would gladly kill him in a dark alley was growing alarmingly, but by the end of the week, Eris felt too exhausted to care.

As he had promised Lucien—forgetting about this was difficult since his younger brother reminded him of the promise every two hours, checking if Eris had forgotten—he picked him up to take him to the restaurant.

Sapphire was quite an expensive place, the prices weren't astronomical, but they were still high. Nevertheless, the place was worth it, especially the live performances.

Maybe Eris didn't know everything about this place because the way Lucien talked excitedly about it was hard to understand. Inside, there were a suspiciously large number of fresh flowers, unique bouquet combinations on the tables, in beautiful vases around the perimeter, and even in hanging pots on the walls.

While Lucien talked to the restaurant's host about his table reservation, Eris looked around. His gaze fell on the entrance door, through which Elain, whom he had already saw once or twice, soon walked in, dressed in a soft pink dress and looking very fitting for the restaurant's atmosphere. She waved at him, and Eris responded with a nod and a small smile.

However, right behind her, another person walked into the restaurant. And it was Azriel. Azriel, dressed in a simple shirt with oil stains in some places, loose jeans, and looking nothing like Nesta Archeron, who was supposed to give Elain a ride here.

Fuck.

The universe either hated Eris intensely or had a very weird way with pranks. Eris didn't even have time to hide his surprise when Azriel looked up and met his gaze. tag list: @sizzlingstarlightsky @isnotwhatyourethinking @molcat07 @chairofchaos

[minggukieology]

Happy FACE era and happy Jikook days to all!

I promise I'll write a few in depth reflections on the latest Jikook interactions and also will address 편지 in another post but I just wanted to get a few things off my chest so I wanted to post this first. (Sorry, this post will mostly include my reflections and no profound analysis so if you're not interested in my ramblings, you can skip this one)

*inserts these pics to catch your attention lol*

I guess I'll start off by this: I did make the conscious decision to lay off the petiness a few months ago though I can't help but think these few days (even weeks) happened for the sake of all the hateful trolls who have been making rounds even on here revelling in the fact both Jimin and Jungkook were mostly off-grid and Kook spotted having a social life, which somehow automatically discounted any possibility of him keeping in touch with/seeing anyone else for some reason.... but anyways... for the sake of keeping my karma clean let's move on.

Being an ARMY with a special fondness for 3J and Jikook I have to say my life is pretty easy, I just lay back and enjoy as their appearances happen and let things unfold without having to get angry or hateful. Mostly because my love for them doesn't hinge upon a never-ending need for validation for what has been a constant for the past 10+ years. And I hope by communicating and trying to explain more closely to you how especially Jimin and Jungkook interact, trying to help you bridge the language gap, I really hope you feel this sense of calmness as well. There is never anything to question, to fuss or argue about. (Not to stray too much off topic, but rest assured I deeply value and appreciate each and one of your replies and messages, despite the fact I am notoriously bad at replying to them 🫣)

Watching Jimin and Jungkook interact always feels like home, like you have been granted an insight into a familiar scene, with people that are so close they can't help but joke around or poke at each other yet at the same time can't hold back on their appreciation and softness for each other. (If you need a visual representation just take any moment Jimin talks about/with Jungkook and automatically gets all giggly and soft and Jungkook's last live where you could see the little goofball laughing at ex. the teasing scenes but at the same time couldn't hold back his starry eyed expression 🥹)

I have to admit though, I myself got proven wrong when I confidently posted about how they are both missing ARMY based on the Weverse interactions and then proceeded watching Jungkook turn on a live barely interacting with the comments (even remarking on the fact he isn't checking them yet people keep writing lol) just to watch over 1hr of Jimin content and admit to have been staying on top of all his promo releases...To then read Jimin's reply in which he left no room for debate. 국민 정말 미안해ㅠㅠㅠ

So what have we learned over the past few days?

Jimin and Jungkook are fine, in fact better than fine, and not seeing them in public proves absolutely jack sh*t (reverting back to a bit of my pettiness here)

Jungkook was involved with the album more than we could have ever imagined. (can't wait to talk more about 편지, I have to say not many songs have ever touched me as much as this one, for various reasons...)

Jungkook visited Jimin's rehearsal (and was really interested in watching him record for a music show too 🥺) and was also for that reason so confidently announcing that something "amazing beyond words" was coming before the teaser for Set me free pt. 2 dropped

As expected Jimin's latest schedules are recording/company-home-eat-sleep and repeat so he has barely any time left and Jungkook misses him a lot :(

Jungkook is as supportive and admiring of his hyung as ever- his words not mine (still a huge Serendipity stan though 🤭)

And once again highlighting: their communication feels very warm, friendly and familiar, there is no sign of them not knowing about each other or being distant

This was all I just had to write down before my head started spinning, I will be back with more of my nerdy language analysis posts, thanks for reading if you decided to! 😊

[crusherthedoctor]

7 + 18

7. what character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Hate is vastly overstating it, as my thoughts on her are more conflicted than anything (tl;dr: like her conceptually, not so much in execution more often than not beyond SA1, and not counting games with little dialogue like the Advance trilogy or Superstars), but over the last few years, Amy fans have been annoying me quite a lot with their penchant for heavily downplaying and in some cases outright retconning the feats of other characters - usually Tails or Knuckles - in an insecure bid to prop her up. There's also their insistence on demanding for her inclusion in absolutely everything, even when there might be little thought out placement for her, like the movies. In fairness, I understand not wanting her to be left out of stuff, yet I don't see Rouge fans or Cream fans acting this way, or at least nowhere near as often.

As of the Year of SA2 Wanking, Shadow is in a similar spot, albeit for different reasons. Due to the vicious cycle of his overwhelming fanbase VS the preferential treatment he often receives as a result of it, which once again tends to come at the cost of other characters, not to mention how often his famous backstory is used to frame him as the only character in the games with any depth or characterization, and SEGA themselves caring a lot more intimately about Shadow's portrayal than any other character in the games, including Sonic and Eggman despite them being the main protagonist and antagonist respectively... it's hard to not glare a little bit in his general direction.

On the much more bitter side that veers into legitimate dislike for the actual character in their entirety, you have the Freedom Fighters. I remained fairly neutral on them for a long time, but I began to grow very sour on them upon realising how many dick moments they had over their lifespan. Combine that with fans hyping them up to ridiculous levels as being light years ahead of the entire game cast in terms of writing and legacy, as well as the infamous Rally4Sally push, and various characters being morphed into little more than dispensable Sally clones because the Archie crew can't move on from its cancellation, and well...

As you can see from all these examples, I try my best to never let my thoughts on a character be dictated solely because of their loudest fans' obnoxious behaviour. There's usually something else there that said behaviour merely amplifies. Also note that when I say ___ fans, I don't mean literally all of them.

18. it’s absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on…

The characters as they actually are, rather than what certain adaptations and indistinguishable big-name fans claim they are.

[houseofbrat]

I've seen you mention a few times that William will be a failure as king.

Do you think it's mainly because of his ego? I've been watching him for a while. I adore Catherine for various reasons but never really cared that much for him as he seems arrogant and egotistical. Similar to his brother in many ways, but willing to stand by the Crown.

I'm not wholly impressed by earthshot for various reasons, and I'm definitely not impressed with his new pledge to end homelessness. Jumping the gun, making promises that in my opinion, are impossible to keep. Is this saviour mentality why he will unsuccessful?

I'm firmly in the " do the job you have (bread and butter engagements) don't try to be King of the World and make "meaningful impact" - these words smack of egotism to me. Did we ever see the late Queen using words like that? Absolutely not. Just quietly doing her duty and making uniting the country she loved.

Thanks for your thoughts.

(this ask is from 27 June 2023)

I think it'll end up being for a variety of reasons.

First, let's consider this quote about Diana from Kitty Kelley's 1997 book, The Royals, page 457:

Diana publicly reinforced her image as the mother of a future King by talking to Richard Kay about her firstborn son. She bragged that at thirteen he was "taller than his father…and so very different." She belittled Charles by building up William: the son is "decisive"; the son has "sense and sensibility"; the son takes "people for what they are, not who they are." The son is handsome, "not burdened" with stick-out ears. "Tell him he's good looking," wrote Richard Kay after visiting with Diana, "and Wills says he can't be because that would make him vain."

Again, that quote is from 1997. The "positive" image that so many Will & Kate Cultists and Charles-hating Diana stans have is straight from Diana's pr games thirty years ago. Most of the perception of William going to be a "great" king comes straight from the drivel Diana connived to get published in the UK tabs in her hate campaign against Charles.

Yes, William certainly is arrogant and egotistical. Notice how he never bows to The King in public, except during the actual coronation ceremony last year. You see Kate curtseying to The King and Queen in public, but not William. He is petulant, just like his brother. (And sorry Wales stans but keep showing your lack of age when you don't realize that Charles bowed to his parents in public all the time until the last seven to ten years, when he started being treated as a pseudo king because he had been heir-to-the-throne for so damn long.)

Consider now that William has completed more than a year of time as the heir to the throne. Yet, in 2023, he could barely best The Duke of Gloucester in engagement numbers. The Duke of Gloucester is older than King Charles and currently 32nd in the line of succession.

William is hardly more prepared now for being the monarch than he was a year ago. (He has less than eight years to become prepared.) It is plainly obvious to me--and probably a few other people--that he is straight-up avoiding increasing his workload. He is not going to be prepared to be monarch. He has not done enough diplomatic tours. He has not done enough engagements for causes that are not "close" to his heart.

Basically, when it gets down to it, he is setting himself up for failure because he refuses to prepare for the job. When he suddenly becomes king sooner than he would like, he won't be prepared. With his stubborn nature, he's unlikely to seek guidance from anyone within the royal family because he believes himself to be their superior in all things. He inherited his mother's ego and her ability to create her own misfortunes. Serious misfortunes.

[hiyokuma]

Bittersweet Goodbyes | sakuma rei.

angst

reblogs are appreciated ♡

rei sakuma x gn!reader - pov you are one of the students at the Yumenosaki sister schools abroad and well.. takes place around the time he decides to stay at Yumenosaki High.. whoopsies

"I see.. well your things will be ready to collect by the weekend" you spoke whilst standing up from your seat.

you slowly put your brown jacket on as you watched Rei go from looking down at his hands to looking out of the window.

and as your eyes followed his red ones you so badly wished that it would rain, that it would snow, that there would be a thunderstorm anything but the bright sunny weather, anything but the reminder of all the moments that were spent together under that bright sun, the times where Rei would drag you to the fields, to simply have u sit on the plain grass and let him lay his head on your lap, all the times where you were unable to say no to him due to his pretty face being so much prettier close up, so much prettier with that bright grin of his;

how are you supposed to deal with the sun holding your first few memories, your first few kisses shared, your first "I love you" spoken, and now even your last goodbyes are being witnessed by the exact same sun? it's rather cruel, rather unfair.

but there's a reason why this goodbye is so bittersweet, because you love him, you love him so much you waited and waited for him to come back whenever he'd go back to his home country, and this time? you waited day and night, hoping for anything to come through, a message, a call, anything. anything would've sufficed, yet no words came during those months, so when all of a sudden he called you telling you he's back in town you assumed the best, you assumed he's finally back to be with you, to finally hold you tight.

but none of that happened because by the time you reached the cafè, the boy sitting infront of you had a gloomy expression all over his usual glowy face and he apologised over and over again, and that's what made this goodbye so bitter,

you love him, he loves you,

but in life, love will never be enough,

change is inevitable, whether its a personality change or a permanant school change,

goodbyes will always come, you knew this, he knew it, this goodbye is so sweet, due to how full of love it is, letting him go because you love him, him letting you stay and move on because he loves you.

love is a damned curse, because in this world everything is balanced, the more you love, the more you hurt, the more you laugh, the more you cry,

and god knows how bad this hurts, how much worse it hurt when Rei told you about how much he hated living here, how much he hated doing his job of fixing up the sister school you go to, and how you realised that you never noticed his suffering before he left to go back to Yumenosaki? it all hurt so badly, each word he spoke was followed along with an apology and you wish to hug him, to hold him, just for one last time, to kiss him and tell him that it's okay, that you'll find a way to figure this out; together, but you can't do it, you can't lie to the boy who is pouring his heart out, you can't hold him, you can't reassure him because you no longer know what the future holds, you imagined him going back to finish his studies was the only time you and him wouldn't be together, you always imagined you'd forever and always live together, after all the plan was for you to move back to Japan with him as he’d continue his idol activities there,

you always thought that watching him come home was something that you'd see everyday, cooking with him, cleaning with him, decorating the house for christmas and various other events;

you assumed that is something you'd witness everyday, every season, every year and that's always been your only wish, whenever a shooting star was seen during your stargazing dates, whenever you had to blow your birthday candles with him always next to you. you only ever wished for one thing and that was to stay with Rei forever, and yet it wasn't written in your cards, even though you love him to the point he never once questioned your love, even though he loves you to the point you happily waited months for him, you have to let him go, even if the love you hold for each other is so strong, you have to let each other go, to grow, because every bird has to leave the nest sooner or later, even if the nest was made by the bird, it has to leave it behind, no matter how much love was given and received in that nest, no matter what, 

to grow, you must let go.

and you understand that, but your tears do not,

and he understands it, but his tears do not.

and so as you walk out of the cafè you can't help but run to your car and sob.

you know this is the right choice, you trust Rei to make the right choice but that doesn't make the goodbye any less bitter, it doesn't make your heart bleed any less, you can't blame him for this being over and you can't blame yourself either, the only thing you can do is curse the universe for not writing you a happily ever after, a happily ever after that you both very much deserve.

but the universe instead chose to write a bittersweet goodbye,

bitter because he's no longer with you, you can no longer see him, hold him or kiss nor reassure him

sweet because you know how well he'll grow, how relieved he'll be once he drops all of his duties, how healthy he’ll be once he stops going from country to country every other week.

and honestly? maybe that does soothe your heartbreak more than you'd like to admit.

[bellamyroselia]

Stars somehow aligned and I managed write something Kid Icarus related; it's a sequel to these two ficlets because I lack originality.

...

There were many words Dark Pit would’ve never used to describe himself, one amongst them being ‘dreamer’. And it wasn’t just in a philosophical sense - besides him seeing himself as more of a realist, he rarely had any dreams while he was sleeping. He rarely dreamed and in those few times he did, he simply ended up recounting past events in his head. In general he dreamed of events that had happened to him specifically, but on occasion he got to see things in his dreams that he had never experienced. Those few times gave him an unique window to the past, Pit’s past in particular.

In a way, it made perfect sense for him to dream of these events - as Dark Pit wasn’t an unique product of love but rather a mirror image turned flesh without a real history before early teenage years, any memories he had of a past prior to his creation were those that Pit had actually experienced and lived through.

That didn’t mean he had to like it.

Dark Pit disliked being reminded of how he had no unique memories of his mother holding him, of his father helping him to take his first steps or of playdates with other children of his age. He hated the fact that every memory of moments like those he could sometimes glimpse at his dreams were Pit’s first and foremost, and only by technicality his as well. As grim as it sounded, one of the few things that brought Dark Pit solace was that Pit didn’t seem to remember their his mother either.

When Dark Pit had dreamed of the golden-haired man the first time, he thought that he may have seen his image somewhere before. Perhaps in a marble statue that lacked colors or in a mosaic which was devoid of details so he couldn’t be completely sure, but the man in his dream had felt both grand and important. Yet despite all that grandeur and importance, the man had devoted so much his time to take care of this one unassuming child. One would think someone so notable would have better things to do in their lives, but apparently Pit truly did matter that much to the man. So much so that even when he was battle-ready and donning the fanciest armor one could wear, he had first come to the young angel, hugged the toddler as if he was the most precious thing in his life and called himself lucky to have Pit in his life.

(Would anyone call themselves lucky to have me in their lives? Dark Pit wondered.)

He had to find out who the man he was dreaming of was.

For the weeks that followed, Dark Pit had hardly focused on anything else but in his mission. He had been so absorbed on his quest that he had took it upon himself to learn five new different alphabets in hopes of finding new clues of the mysterious man’s identity. The process had been long and painstaking, and lot of it had been for naught at the end - two of the alphabets turned out to be no longer in use, third one was in the verge of extinction and the fourth one was the alphabet of foreigners and therefore useless to him, but the last of them proved useful to him in his research. As Dark Pit skimmed through various texts, his originally hazy vision of the man became much clearer and his suspicions of his identity were starting to rise. Towards the end of his research he had actually wanted to just steal the Lightning Chariot and go directly to the Queen of all gods herself, but he knew better than to do that. The Queen would never listen to him without solid evidence to back his words, and currently all of it existed just in the heads of two angels and maybe one goddess. No, what he needed to do now was to go to Pit and finally set the records straight. If Dark Pit was having dreams like this, surely the other angel must’ve had them as well and for whatever reason was keeping them a secret. And that simply couldn’t be tolerated any longer.

…

Pit was by himself in the temple outskirts, lost in daydreams and in the verge of dozing off when his pleasant time was all the sudden interrupted by someone loudly slamming a door. Shocked, he quickly rose up to look who had caused all that commotion and was surprised to find Dark Pit there; even when he was at his surliest, the other angel tended not to slam doors in this kind of manner. And now he seemed surlier than ever, even to the point of Pit being taken aback by the other angel’s displeased expression. 

“Pittoo, what’s wrong?” Pit asked, concern clear in his voice. Just what had happened for Dark Pit to be in such a foul mood today?

“Don’t play coy with me, you know exactly what’s wrong”, Dark Pit spat right back to him, clearly not caring of Pit’s attempts to be polite. “Who is he?”

“Who?” Pit responded to Dark Pit’s question with a question of his own, confused by what the other angel meant.

“You know exactly who I’m talking of! Golden hair, tall as all get out, wings as mighty as those of an eagle, fancy armor. You know who he is, don’t you?”

A lump rose to Pit’s throat. Dark Pit already knew of the dreams he had been having? Of course he knows, Pit resonated with himself, My childhood is technically his childhood as well. If one of us remembers something from it, the other isn’t far behind. There really was no point of hiding anything anymore and there was much that Pit wanted to tell, but at the end only one word found its way out of his mouth.

“Dad”, was all Pit was able to say, but it was enough to make Dark Pit flinch and then back off a little. All he said was what he thought of as truth, so why had the the angel reacted in such a way?

“Dad?” he repeated Pit’s words, oddly unsure of himself. “Is it true? Are you certain?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure of that he is. Who else besides our dad would do anything–”

“Oh, so now he’s OUR dad?”

Pit flinched upon hearing Dark Pit’s words. Only now did he seem to understand how badly he had screwed up by keeping everything under wraps; it wasn’t just about who his father was to him anymore, it was about what he meant to people around him. He had had a life long before Pit was a part of it, and the people who knew his father continued exist long after his disappearance.

“Dark Pit, please listen”, Pit started, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier and it was stupid of me to think that you wouldn’t also know… At first I didn’t even know myself who he was and when I became sure of that it really was dad I wasn’t sure if the time was right, Lady Palutena may think–”

Dark Pit didn’t even give him time to finish his sentence as he grabbed Pit’s wrist, fire burning in his red eyes.

“Lady Palutena this, Lady Palutena that, what of OUR feelings? What of OUR dad? Are you really just letting him rot somewhere while dealing with HER endless list of petty problems first?” he now snarled at Pit, his sense of judgment blurred by the pent up vexation.

“But if Medusa’s attack somehow affected him–”

“No way it could’ve done anything to him!” Dark Pit once again interrupted him, “You really think they would’ve ever allowed an angel to wear that fancy armor? Good grief with you Pit, think for yourself for once! Clearly dad wasn’t all that lucky to have you if you’re just standing here doing nothing to help him!”

That last sentence especially hit a nerve, and in a fit of frustration Pit pulled his hand away from the other angel’s grasp. Just like that time long ago when Palutena had told him that his father wasn’t returning, Pit was starting to become misty-eyed but this time he didn’t let the tears fall. Dark Pit, who at this point had calmed down a bit, seemed to realize how hurtful his words had been and took couple steps back with a remorseful look on his face.

“Don’t put words into dad’s mouth”, was all Pit managed to say back at the other angel. He had come far from that helpless toddler who had cried on Palutena’s arms, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t bothered of what had happened to his father. Of course he wished to find out the truth and finally get some closure but as there always seemed to be new threats lurking just around the corner, timing never felt right.

“Dad wore that armor because he was fighting for a cause. Lady Palutena too was shocked when he didn’t return…”

“Who cares of Palutena’s opinion”, Dark Pit huffed, a hint of bitterness remaining in his voice. Wishing for the calm before storm to be finally over, he grabbed Pit’s hand once again and started to lead the other angel towards the main building of the temple.

“Wait Pittoo, where are we going?” Pit asked.

“To set things straight with Palutena”, Dark Pit replied. “What, would you like us to go to the Queen herself instead?”

Pit blinked slowly when he heard the other angel mention the Queen. There were few things he knew of the Queen, and one of them was that she rarely if ever had time for people other than her family and servants. To hear Dark Pit talk of her in such bold manner was surprising - did he really think that the Queen would ever give a time of day to them?

“But what does the Queen have to do with any of this?” Pit wondered, not understanding why the other angel had even bothered to bring her up.

“Do you think that a mother could ever forget her child’s eyes?” Dark Pit answered to his question with a one of his own. “Do you think she would still recognize them even if another person bore them?”

Whatever fight was still left in Pit fizzled out in an instant as he heard those words, and so did all the questions that he had wanted ask just moment prior. Only one thing was certain now, and it was that Lady Palutena would have lot to explain.

[egg-emperor]

It's so insane to me that there was ever even a suggestion that Eggman would stop being a villain after Frontiers. Like no sane person would ever come to that conclusion after playing that game, there is literally zero material to even suggest that. And yet it was just crazy take after crazy take, people saying "time skip" this and "Eggman will be softened by Sage's presence" that and it's like bitch where? I don't even know what to attribute it too beyond the usual, these people just hate Sonic

I knooow, I still feel like a dumbass myself for not properly getting it for a while just because of what a mass majority of the fandom was saying based on leaks and jumping to the wildest conclusions. With so many stating it like absolute fact, I didn't even consider it not being the case and it killed all my interest and hype, ruined my first experience with the game, and made me not even bother to pay attention and analyze to make sense of it the first playthrough. But to my defense I literally wasn't mentally okay for a multitude of reasons that year then that destroyed the last straw of my sanity and rational thinking at the time so lol

But hey I've learned to avoid and ignore the entire fandom's opinions until I've experienced it myself and actually thought about it carefully and analyzed it properly to make sure they never have a say or influence in my perception of it ever again and things have gotten so much better! And yeah it was crazy how eye opening a few explanations and a second playthrough of the game was for me, when I actually paid attention and didn't believe that all the desires and wishful thinking that the fandom projected onto it were genuinely true. There were no hints to Eggman's character massively changing and being ruined whatsoever.

How the tables have turned that I'm now obsessed with and thinking about and analyzing it constantly and want to help people understand it. I now wish more people would realize how great Eggman's portrayal in it was but not for all the reasons those that claim to like it are saying because those reasons don't actually exist. XD It's so much better when you realize that the game is actually what I want out of Eggman (for him to just be who he's always been) and to no longer entertain people's made up ideas about it over the facts by acting like it's true because it's not. There's so much fun to be had and things to like for what it really is.

It was instead just a really cool exploration of his already existing characteristics that he's always had and how they affect and play a part in writing him in situations he's never been in before, further developing those aspects further without changing a single thing about him at all. Proving he can be deep, complex, and require some real thought and analysis to understand despite his simplicity as a character in terms of personality and motives. It actually just proves you don't need to change anything about him to explore interesting themes and that he has tons of potential the way he is. It's actually great how there's so much to analyze and think about.

A whole lot of the fan speculation and theories about this game directly contradict the actual events of the game, actions of the characters, and even the writer commentary. And with each piece of official media that has been releasing since, it's been proving it more and more in various blatantly obvious and undeniable ways. And in Eggman's case I realize I shouldn't have even been surprised since most of the people that were so adamant that he was changing drastically into someone else literally don't like him being evil and a villain and admitted that, so there is absolutely truth to that. They let personal bias and desires affect how they saw it.

I'm really happy that in the end the game canon really just further solidified his already existing characteristics and explored the scope of them in a fun new way and only proved that they can stand the test of all new experiences he has lol. It really just showcased all the things I love about him in a different way besides his usual active villainy and then went right back to that after it was done in all official media since and it has me looking forward to the future of his character with many more interesting things to analyze and think about and classic entertaining villainy to enjoy 🥰💜

[ruinedheart]

it's too early to even exist ( isn't it always too early, to yuki? well —— yes, of course it was, that wasn't the point !! ) let alone be awake, but awake is what yuki finds himself, utterly against his will, and it's simply instinct at this point that draws him towards where his heartstrings lead : to the kitchen, but more importantly, to momo. he feels bleary—eyed and deeply lethargic, wading through chest—high water as he takes the sun into his arms / as he drops his forehead onto his shoulder and breathes in the familiar scent of home. ❝ mmmm, ❞ which could, quite literally, be anything between morning and momo or even i'm tired. // from yuki, to momo ❤

there is a tranquility that comes with the early hours of the morning, a serene stillness that settles as the world begins to wake. it's the reason why momo preferred his runs happen when the sun was barely peeking over the horizon / when the streets were barren and privacy was a concept he could pretend to still have. after all, even a social butterfly like momo needed the occasional moment of solitude, even if he'd never outright admit it to anyone! every step along the route back home is an opportunity to rearrange and organize previous worries / to realign and stabilize for the ensuing chaos that’ll come once they step through the agency’s front door. he continues to carry that peace back through complex doors and up empty elevator rides and into small hallways until the front door closes behind him and momo is finally home.

there is a tranquility within these walls that’s not so different from the tranquility outside. there is an unnatural quiet to his movements as shoes are taken off, bag is placed down. momo was hardly one for unchoreographed grace, but lithe are his movements as he settles within the kitchen ( because it wouldn’t be fair if only momo got to enjoy these morning hours, would it? and he knew best how much yuki treasured these last few moments of sleep! ) and momo would swear that he had been quiet in his actions, that this was actually the quietest he’s ever prepared breakfast —— only to be met with the rhythmic stepping of approaching feet. braced for the incoming impact of a still sleep - lulled yuki, he can’t help but instinctively tilt his head to get a better view of that awful bedhead and bleary eyes.

❛ good morning, yuki. you’re up early.. did you miss me that much? ❜ translating yuki's various mmmm's and hmm's had become a special talent picked up from all the years spent together. no doubt yuki appreciates it too, that there's no need to spend more energy in further explanation to ensure momo understood — and he'd hardly want to trouble him! another hmm is his reply and that one, momo will take to mean ‘of course, i always miss you’ because it felt the most yuki - like answer for the moment. laughter still leaves him regardless of the proper meaning, disruptive to the tranquility around them the way a sudden melody might be.

breakfast isn’t abandoned but simply put aside in favor of turning around to properly face his partner ( his partner! his partner... his partner, wrapped in their sheets to avoid the cold air of their apartment. his partner, stubborn and selfish and selfless, who worked hard to create magic between every strung note, who hated early mornings and physical exercise and still chose to engage with them because they were things momo enjoyed. his partner, who had unconventional ways of expressing affection but they were treasured memories to momo all the same. his partner, who loves him. his partner! ) with a smile as bright as a sunbeam. was it even possible to love someone so much? could a heart truly fit such expansive feelings, so profound that there was no possible end within sight? surely, such bliss shouldn’t be so easily attainable — and yet, as momo reaches up to cradle the entirety of his world, he finds it completely manageable. 

when momo asks permission for a kiss, he knew instantly what yuki’s mmmm meant. and when the distance between them closes, it tastes like warmth and love and hope.

[inamanicpixiedream]

2023

I've answered these questions on various platforms for over ten years now, I think? That's wild. There's better questions out there but tradition is tradition.

1. What did you do this year that you’d never done before?

Put on a mother-fucking Fringe show. Bought a Lego advent calendar. Got divorced lol.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions?

I don't really make them any more, but I feel like I set out what I wanted to do.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Yeah, a few of my good friends from work.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No.

5. What cities/states/countries did you visit?

My partner finally moved here from Brisbane, but I did a couple of final trips there and we went back for a wedding. I did a whirlwind trip to Melbourne and while it was fun I found out I am not the kind of person who thrives on flying somewhere for less than 24 hours.

6. What would you like to have next year that you lacked this year?

Money. God, I hate this is the answer, but my rent got super jacked up and my partner hasn't found a job here yet and everything is find but it's tight as fuck and I hate working so goddamn hard and feeling like I have nothing to show for it.

7. What date(s) from this year will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

February my show was performed. April my partner moved here. Two of the biggest days of my life honestly.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

The show was huge. I wrote and performed something I had written, with my own financial backing and organisation and steam, and it's something I have always wanted to do. And I just did it. I then started making more and more moves to make this my life, like asking to go part-time at work and starting my podcast again and putting together a Patreon.

9. What was your biggest failure?

I actually can't think of anything which is kind of wild. After leaving my husband last year I really grabbed a hold of my agency in my life. It's been pretty incredible.

10. What other hardships did you face?

I had a lot to grieve and process about the separation and I am very thankful to my therapist for all the work she did there.

My current relationship is wonderful but being two adults coming together is going to have more baggage and things to work through. It's so absolutely worth it.

11. Did you suffer illness or injury?

In July I was diagnosed with polycystic-ovary syndrome, which is yet another nail in the coffin of my ever being able to have children.

Along with that came a further investigation into my blood sugar and I was told I had pre-diabetes. This scared the shit out of me, cause I was really fucking close. I was also terrified about doing the work to try and reverse it, because I didn't want to get back into disordered eating territory. But I had incredible help from a dietician and I read really tempered, reasonable information, and I managed to make small, sustainable changes and turn that entire shit around. Within six months my levels were completely back to normal and all my other negative health markers were reversed. Honestly, this was another huge achievement.

12. What was the best thing you bought?

I just bought a new guitar that has become a huge joy in my life. I also got into beading when I went to see the Eras tour movie to make bracelets and I've kept it up and I absolutely love it as a hobby. Otherwise, I didn't really make a lot of big purchases. Contributing financially to helping my boyfriend move was pretty great to get him here.

13. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

I am often resisting the urge to come on here and write a very gushy post about my boyfriend, but god he is great. I wrote last year that I highly recommend falling in love in your thirties. My mum commented at Christmas that it's clear how happy he makes me, but it's beyond happy - he makes me calm. Even when things are hard and messy he is such a solid presence in my life, and he is so, so bloody nice to me, and I keep waiting for it to stop feeling like a crush and exciting every time I see him but it's been almost two years and that just has never gone away. He is so ridiculously supportive of me and has worked so hard on himself and I'm so proud of him.

14. Whose behaviour made you appalled?

No names, but a few people at work made me feel like I was banging my head against the wall.

Also, fuck everyone who has been supporting Israel's attack on Palestine.

15. Where did most of your money go?

Rent and household expenses is the very boring but realistic answer.

16. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

My show. My boyfriend finally moving here. Seeing Barbie.

17. What song will always remind you of this year?

I was so terrible at listening to new music this year. The songs that were written for my show, I guess. I listened to Peach Prc and Tessa Violet a lot, but I don't know if those songs will remind me of the year. Maybe Kitchen Song.

18. Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. Happier or sadder? Happier, happier, happier!

ii. Thinner or fatter? No comment!

iii. Richer or poorer? Poorer. But I have complete control of my finances and can still cover everything and then some. Have to remind myself I'll be okay.

19. What do you wish you’d done more of? Reading! This is something I have to work on.

20. What do you wish you’d done less of? Last year I said sleeping, which is very funny to me. Mindless scrolling is the answer this year for sure.

21. How did you spend Christmas? My extended family did out potluck on the Saturday before which was lovely, and my boyfriend was nervous cause he hadn't met half of them before, and he'd never been to a big Christmas before, but it was really great. My granny is pretty far gone with her Alzheimer's though which was a cloud that hung over everything

My boyfriend's mum then flew down on Christmas Eve, and we had lunch on the day with just us and our mums, cause we're both only children of single parents, and I was a bit concerned it'd be awkward, but it wasn't, it was really nice. We cooked an amazing meal together and both our mums bought the dogs presents. and we watched Fantasia and it was great.

22. Did you fall in love this year? 

I did not know it was possible to be in love the way we are. I sold myself short for years. It feels like a waste of time, but god, I cannot believe how lucky I am to have it now.

This is what I wrote last year, at the end of a much more extended answer, since 2022 was pretty big for us. But this is still absolutely true, and I can't get over it still.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? I don’t think so.

24. What was your favorite show? God, I didn't watch much that was new, but we rewatched 30 Rock because my boyfriend had never seen it and that was great.

25. What was the best book you read? The Bookbinder of Jericho by Pip Williams. Little Weirds by Jenny Slate. What You Are Looking for is in the Library by Michiko Aoyama.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery of the year? I went to see Stop Making Sense and it got me very into The Talking Heads. Loved finding corook's music as well.

27. What was your favorite film? 

Films that came out this year - Barbie, Oppenheimer, Across the Spiderverse,

 Films I watched for the first time - Amadeus, Stop Making Sense, Best In Show, The Great Escape, Glass Onion.

I also went to a cinema event where we marathoned all five Twilight movies in a row, and that ruled.

28. What was your favorite meal?

We've been doing a roast chicken every Sunday together which has been great.

It's what we did on Christmas too and I made a kickass pavlova. Think that's definitely been the best meal of the year.

29. What did you want and get?

For my partner to move here.

30. What did you want and not get?

To win the fucking lottery.

31. What did you do on your birthday and how old did you turn?

I turned 35. I had a work event that night so did nothing special. That was fine.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Said it before, but having more financial stability and freedom sure would be nice.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept of the year?

Comfortable. Embracing my body. Showing my tattoos. As sustainable as possible.

Wrote this last year. Stand by it.

34. What kept you sane?

My dogs. My friends. My boyfriend. Writing. Podcasts. Taylor Swift's music. Going to the movies.

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you admire the most?

Caroline Klidonas is an actor I follow on TikTok whose work I just adore. I also love Pip Williams' writing so much, especially after seeing the play of A Dictionary of Lost Words.

36. What political issue stirred you the most? The genocide in Gaza.

37. Who did you miss? Sometimes I miss the family I lost in the divorce.

But mostly not.

38. Who was the best new person you met?

I honestly don't feel like I've met many new people? Which is weird.

39. What valuable life lesson did you learn this year?

Go after what you want.

40. What is a quote or song lyric that sums up your year?

On the way home I wrote a poem You say, "What a mind" This happens all the time

'Cause they said the end is coming Everyone's up to something I find myself running home to your sweet nothings Outside, they're push and shoving You're in the kitchen humming All that you ever wanted from me was nothing

- Sweet Nothing, Taylor Swift

We live in hope--that life will get better, and more importantly that it will go on, that love will survive even though we will not. As Emily Dickinson put it, hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all. And we are here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here. Sing it with me, wherever you are. Think of those across the broad and roaring seas, and sing with me. You won’t be more offtune than I am. We’re here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here. We’re here because we’re here because we’re here because we’re here.

- The Anthropocene Reviewed, John Green

[hellishvxbes]

My minds been on a my first love a lot in the past few months and it’s been on overdrive now.

I was thinking about the beauty of emotional intimacy. Being so lucky to get to see inside someone’s heart, especially when they are so heavily guarded.

I met him when I was 17, and while I lived in a very abusive environment, I hadn’t been broken yet. I still held a very childish view on the world and really, all I wanted was to be the light that kept people from getting too lost in the dark. Because I know what that is like.

It was a strange situation, when we met we bickered a lot, he saw me as loud and annoying and well, that hasn’t changed lol. But I thought I would be the last person to like someone like that, and him liking me like that. Yet, despite our differences, we flowed kind of perfectly.

It was one of those relationships where everyone else kind of knew that you both liked each other. Belonged. In the end our friends were the ones who basically pushed us in a room to finally come out with it.

Next Thursday would be an anniversary if we were still together. And I know ppl think it’s weird to keep up with your exes but he.. never felt like an ex. There is a connection we have that just surpassed all that. And I’ve kept every message we ever sent, and it’s actually crazy reading back and how much we flirted and teased and talk. Even in the recent ones from last year we just never seemed to ever grow from that. He lives on the other side of the world. It was easier in high school to stay up until 6am talking to each other, but with adult life both working and too tired really keep up with most things.

But even then, we’d go years without talking and then suddenly pick it up right where we left off.

And we’ve had the talk, about our breakup and the way we both thought we were fools. How we thought that the other wasn’t going to want to see or talk to them anymore. That rush of relief I still feel it in my chest when we both made it clear we didn’t want to ever stop being in each others life.

He’s not perfect no one is, and I find myself missing him more cuz he is very rarely online and believe me the rational part of my brain is like ‘girl let it go it’s impossible ‘ but it’s my heart knows.

I think back to everyone I’ve been with since then. How relationships didn’t work out for various reasons, but deep down me knowing they weren’t him either. When I think about again, how intimate it is for someone to see inside your heart. How many times I laid mine bare for people who couldn’t give two shits. Because they were selfish, because they only cared about themselves. How they hurt me when all I wanted to do was love them. There are things I’ve done in those relationship I am not always proud of, but I was always genuine in the way I love people. And I’ll never let anyone tell me any different, the kind of love i give is what made you stay, you were the one who needed me to tell you how great you were when you hated yourself.

Now I’m the guarded one. I’ve got much thicker skin now, I don’t trust, I’m skeptical of everything now. I’m much more closed off then I’ve ever been. I have learned to start putting up strong boundaries, and for the longest time I’ve mourned who I used to be. Because it hurts like hell when you care the way I do and you have to force it down. You have to retract that hand that wants to reach out and take someone’s hand to tell them they aren’t alone.

I thought I lost that girl but when I talk to him, I see glimpses of her. And it’s something I want to protect with all of my heart. And it’s probably silly. I’m a Pisces so I’m over romanticize. I daydream. I get all up in my head, and maybe that’s what all this.. but why does he crowed every aspect of my head. Why when I write scenes of love he becomes the center of my muse. Why the fewest words from him are enough to remind me why I’m gonna be okay despite everything fighting against me. Why have those feelings never died out? It’s been 12 years and I still can’t shake it. And idk why I’m rambling about it now it’s just going over and over in my brain trying to think logically, trying to fight the way my heart is telling me that what I’m feeling is real.

[fortleegospel]

Gospel News

Dear friends and members of Fort Lee Gospel Church,

Recently there has been plenty of speculation about what to make of the New Jersey earthquake, the solar eclipse, and various other weather events. Rather than focusing on the end of the world, my theme today is that God has made an amazing world which has been on full display in recent days. In the language of Psalms and Romans:

1 The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

2 Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they reveal knowledge.

3 They have no speech, they use no words;

no sound is heard from them.

4 Yet their voice goes out into all the earth,

their words to the ends of the world.

In the heavens God has pitched a tent for the sun.

5 It is like a bridegroom coming out of his chamber,

like a champion rejoicing to run his course.

6 It rises at one end of the heavens

and makes its circuit to the other;

nothing is deprived of its warmth. (Ps. 19:1-6)

20 For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse. (Rom. 1:20)

I have enjoyed nature – God’s creation in the past few days. Monday’s partial eclipse was beautiful to behold as it speaks to the precision of God’s design of the world that the earth, moon, and the sun can align from time to time. Yesterday was as nice a spring day as possible, with warm temperatures along with spring flowers and budding trees. Even last week’s minor earthquake reminds us that nature has a certain mystery that even scientists did not see coming.

On a side note, if that was the biggest earthquake in New Jersey in 250 years, we live in a very safe part of the world. I have come to look for good reasons to say nice things about our state. New Jersey is the Rodney Dangerfield of states – ‘we get no respect.’ Now back to my point.

But some may protest that all these strange events speak to the possibility of Jesus coming back soon.

Let me respond by saying that we all need to be ready for the imminent return of Jesus. He could come at any time. We are to be ready for whenever Jesus comes, or we go to meet Him. None of us can guarantee that we will live to see next month. We prepare by knowing Jesus as Savior and striving to live a holy life. Let me briefly explore what Jesus says about end times and His coming:

4 Jesus answered: “Watch out that no one deceives you. 5 For many will come in my name, claiming, ‘I am the Messiah,’ and will deceive many. 6 You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come. 7 Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be famines and earthquakes in various places. 8 All these are the beginning of birth pains.

9 “Then you will be handed over to be persecuted and put to death, and you will be hated by all nations because of me. 10 At that time many will turn away from the faith and will betray and hate each other, 11 and many false prophets will appear and deceive many people. 12 Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold, 13 but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved. 14 And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come. (Matt 24:4-14)

Here is a summary of the ‘signs’ of Jesus’ coming:

· Spiritual deception

· Wars

· Famines

· Earthquakes

· Persecution of Christians

· People leaving the church

· Spiritual deception (again)

· Gospel preached to the whole world

In the 1970s I was a teen who heard many sermons about the signs of the times. Jesus was coming back soon because of a shortage of gas, chaotic world events, and natural disasters. Now, 50 years later I see some of these ‘signs’ similar and some increasing. In the 1970s many Christians were imprisoned and killed for their faith in Russia and in China. Persecution has shifted to some new places, but it is easier to serve Jesus in Russia and China today.

Wars and national conflict continue to be an issue. I am concerned for the war in Gaza and praying for a peaceful solution. While the news continues to tell us about Ukraine and Gaza, the truth is that the 20th Century was one of the bloodiest Centuries in human history. Nations against nations seem to be fairly consistent over the past 50 years.

There is good news regarding the last ‘sign’ – the gospel being preached in the whole world. More and more unreached people groups now have access to hear about Jesus.

It seems like famines are less today than in the past and earthquakes seem to happen in a similar fashion.

My concern on the list of signs is growing spiritual deception and people leaving the faith. Generally, American church attendance is down since before the pandemic. Spiritual deception has shifted over the past 50 years. It used to be that false teachers were connected to fringe groups we often called cults. Those groups still exist and still misrepresent Jesus and salvation.

The uniqueness of our time is that many Christians are being led away from historic faith by conspiracy theories and misinformation. Some of that misinformation has even tied together the earthquake and the eclipse.

What can we do to avoid deception?

The text gives us the answer, “but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved.” (Matt 24:13) Standing firm implies that we are not moved by new truths or deeper knowledge. Standing firm implies that we keep our focus on Jesus and God’s Word. Standing firm implies that we hold onto historic faith and practice even when it is not popular.

Jesus is coming back! It may be soon, or we may live out our lives like previous generations. Either way, I trust you are ready. Stand firm!

-Pastor Rick

Weekly Announcements

Sunday worship services at 11:00 AM continue to be livestreamed on our Fort Lee Gospel Facebook page, YouTube channel, and our website, www.fortleegospel.org. We meet in the building where we include a time of worship after the online portion of the service.

The Tuesday Men’s Lunch and study meets at the church at 12:30 PM.

The Tuesday Bible Study meets at 7:00 PM weekly. We are studying the book of Romans.

The 6:00 AM Prayer Meeting on Wednesdays and Saturdays is at the church with an option to connect on Google Meet.

The Women’s Spring Social is on April 20th from 3:00 – 5:00 PM. This is a time for fellowship, worship, hearing God’s Word, sharing, and building community. Bring light refreshments to share.

Connect info for Tuesday Bible Studies and Morning Prayer is:

Meeting URL :

https://meet.google.com/suk-xpsf-nwh

For dial in: Phone: +1 567-351-1104 PIN: 469 349 929#

[subtletruamadumping]

A Pitch Black Room, A Velvet Ribbon, A Secret Box

______________________________________________________________

This was my first year doing NaNoWriMo. It started as a writing prompt (the title is literally just the prompt) and it's a collection of short stories from many different peoples' perspectives linked by various objects. I won this year but never looked back at it. In fact, I am kind of embarrassed by it but I try to remind myself I was literally a child. Instead of being broken up into chapters, it's broken into characters.

Written in November 2016

______________________________________________________________

Part 1, Arthur

Fagan had brought the box home that day. He had taken it to his room, pitch black because of the lack of light bulbs. Arthur Tyler, his father, had given him a flashlight to see by when he needed to. He wasn’t going to spend more money than was necessary on the ungrateful, little wretch that wandered around his house. He had also noticed the box, but he hadn’t cared enough to comment on it. He had thought he had been so sneaky, carrying it in his backpack up the stairs. Seriously, though, did he expect his dad wouldn’t question a large, square bulge in his backpack? Mrs. White hadn’t called in a few days, so he had gone back to ignoring Fagan. He wondered if other parents had ever had a kid that was so useless, stupid, weak, and annoying. The kid whimpered more than any dog Arthur had even known. He whimpered more than the most cowardly dog in a thunderstorm. He couldn’t believe he had gotten stuck with him. The woman he had loved, Fagan’s mother, had left him only a year after he was born. Now, everything that reminded Arthur of her sparked hatred in his heart. Fagan was an unfortunate part of that.

Financially ruined by the sudden break up of the marriage, Arthur was forced to move back in with his own parents. Thus, he had become the family embarrassment. He was the only one who hadn’t had a successful marriage and the only one who couldn’t support himself and a child. His siblings mocked him and his parents pitied him. He hadn’t spoken to any of them since the day he had moved out again.

Fagan hadn’t been old enough to understand, but it didn’t matter. If he hadn’t had a kid that he had to take care of when the marriage broke up, he wouldn’t have been so bad off. Another things that was suddenly blamed on Fagan: the break up of the marriage, living with his parents, his fall from grace, being broke and anything else Arthur could think of. Fagan wasn’t even four, yet. Arthur began to blame absolutely all of his problems on Fagan. It was his stupid kid’s fault he had lost his last job. It was also his fault that no new job would hire him. It was Fagan’s fault that the car’s tire had gone flat for no reason. It was Fagan’s fault Arthur couldn’t get remarried. It was Fagan’s fault Arthur’s life was in shambles. What other possible explanation was there?

And now, the brat was always causing trouble in school. He just had to do more annoying things and always be in trouble. Like the incident with the stupid box that was now upstairs in his room. Arthur couldn’t believe he had been burdened with something as awful as this. Not to mention Fagan was the most ungrateful kid in the entire universe. All he ever did was whine and cry about things. Kids were useless. He didn’t understand why anyone had them.

Arthur grunted as he reached for the remote. He hated this channel. Why was the remote so far away? Fagan had probably moved it. He was probably trying to get him back for being yelled at. Arthur made a note to tan his hide the next chance he got. Maybe, some day, some sense would be knocked into that head of his. Maybe, he’d stop being so irritating and just do as he was told. Maybe he’d run away, like he usually did, but never come back.

Arthur gave a mirthless laugh as he finally managed to secure the remote. That would probably be the best thing that could happen to him. If Fagan suddenly disappeared, he wouldn’t have to waste so much money on the pathetic imp. He wouldn’t have to buy food for two. He wouldn’t have to listen to teacher complain. He wouldn’t have to discipline an annoying brat. He could probably find a woman that would marry him. His life would be so much better. To bad it wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

Arthur flicked through the channels until he got to his favorite game show. He liked to watch people make a fool of themselves on public television. It was a small victory he could have against the cruelness of the world. He might have a terrible life, but at least the world didn’t think that he was stupid. Of course, Arthur imagined himself as the most brilliant person in the world. He just knew that, if he had been in any of these people’s positions, he would win every time. Sure, he didn’t always know the answer, but he knew enough to be able to make out with plenty of money. How does one even get to be on a game show, anyway? You probably can’t have a dumb kid. Fagan would probably just ruin it.

As if on command, he heard a soft step behind him. Fagan. Great.

“What do you want?” He snapped without turning around. Fagan had probably jumped, because he heard the quick intake of breath that the kid made whenever he was surprised. There was silence, but Arthur didn’t hear him walk away. He turned to see the brat standing in the hallway, staring at him.

“I said, what do you want?” He snapped louder.

“I was just going to get something to eat.” Fagan said quietly, looking down at his feet.

“Didn’t you eat just a while ago?”

“No.”

“Then, what were you doing downstairs?”

“I was coming home from school.”

“Well, why didn’t you eat then so you didn’t have to bother me now?”

“You’re just watching T.V.”

“Are you back sassing me?”

“No.”

“I’m pretty sure you were back sassing me just now.”

“I wasn’t!” He said quickly “I’m sorry, dad.”

“Get some food and get out of my sight.” Arthur grunted. Fagan scampered into the kitchen and Arthur turned his attention back to the T.V. He could hear Fagan rummaging around, but tried to ignore it. Maybe he would eat something that was expired and die. He couldn’t get in trouble for that, could he? It wasn’t like he had fed the kid gross food. The imp had eaten it himself. It says on the package when you aren’t allowed to eat it anymore. It wasn’t his fault the kid was such an idiot he would eat rotten food. Nothing could be done about it. And then, Arthur would be free again.

Of course, Arthur would never straight up murder Fagan. He didn’t want to spend time in jail. Which was the reason Fagan wasn’t allowed to talk about his dad at school. Arthur was well aware that there were people out there who didn’t believe in hitting their kids for discipline. Though he disagreed with them (obviously), he wasn’t planning on going to jail over it. And Fagan was so dumb he couldn’t figure out that anything was wrong. That was one good thing about him. He never told anyone, no matter how much Arthur “disciplined” him. He was probably too scared to do anything about it. He knew what a butt-load of trouble he’d be in if Arthur ever found out that he’d been whimpering and whining to anyone. He had been around long enough to know what was and what was not acceptable to Arthur. Every now and then, he’s slip up and he’d need a reminder. Arthur thoroughly enjoyed dishing out these random lessons to Fagan, but they were few and far between and only when he did or said something to make Arthur angry. Other than those times, though, Fagan knew how to behave to get out of his “lesson”.

Arthur heard dished clink in the sink and water running as Fagan washed his dishes. Apparently, he wasn’t in the mood for a beating. Go figure. Arthur listened as the dishes were put away and Fagan scurried back to his room. He didn’t stop by the living room this time. Arthur was glad for it. He didn’t want to have to waste any more energy than he had to, tonight. He’d had an exhausting day of searching the internet for jobs in the area. Specifically easy jobs that paid a lot. They were rarer than you’d think. He thought he’d reward himself with complete relaxation tonight. This meant watching T.V. until he fell dead asleep on the couch and was awakened by Fagan leaving for school in the morning. He leaned back lazily and threw the remote to the other side of the couch.

Not surprisingly, he didn’t think about Fagan at all for the rest of the program. But Fagan thought about him. He sat in his pitch black room, looking at the secret box. Unbeknownst to his dad, he had snuck a few bills out of his wallet while he was having his evening meal. His dad probably wouldn't notice. It wasn't like he went out often. It wasn't like he got off the couch often, either. Fagan quickly counted the money again. He held his breath as the total grew and grew, bringing him closer and closer to his goal. His hands froze in midair after he had dropped another dollar in. He finally had enough. Enough to get away. And a little to spare. Fagan's heart stopped. He sat there, in the dark, his mind and body frozen. What to do, now. He slowly came back down to earth and dropped the rest of the money back into the box.

He would have to wait until the giant pig on the couch was asleep. If he was awake, he would surely hear the door, or a creaky board, and ask where Fagan was going. He had an uncanny sense to know whenever Fagan was lying. He would make sure he didn’t get outside and might even find the box. He’d really be in trouble, then. Fagan winced at the thought and quickly shut the lid to the box. He looked up at the window that was in his room. It faced the other house that was practically on top of his, keeping any light from the street or moon from shining in. Fagan always imagined being able to simply crawl out of the window, like he had been able to do in the abandoned house. However, his dad had given him the room with the highest window. It was a few feet over Fagan’s head. He had tried, but his dad hadn’t let him bring a chair into his room. His bed was just a mattress on the floor, so it didn’t help much. There was no way to reach the window. Not for Fagan. He had to go out the front door.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. He had done it before. He had been able to get out the front door without waking his dad up before. This time, though, was the most important. This time was all or nothing. He knew what he was doing. His life depended on this (and, sadly, that wasn’t too far from the truth). He had to get it right. Once he was outside, the brute couldn’t catch him. Once he was out the door, he was free. He laid down on his mattress and waited.

~*~

Arthur had fallen asleep to the lull of the T.V. a few hours ago. It was amazing how tired sitting on a computer all day could make you. Well, he had been forced to yell at Fagan. This must have been what had drained him. It was such a responsibility to take care of a bratling child. People should really pay more respect to him, it was such a hard job. Maybe he should put that on his resume.

He stirred slightly, briefly awakening when there was a soft creak from somewhere within the house. The house was old. He was used to creaks. However, this creak sounded less like the wind and more like a human footstep. He grunted sleepily and rubbed his nose noisily. The creak instantly stopped. Yup, that was definitely a human tred. Fagan was up. Was it morning already? Arthur rubbed his eyes and yawned. He heard hurried footsteps. He finally opened his eyes and stretched, then blinked in confusion. It was still dark outside. What was Fagan doing up? It wasn’t time for school yet. He heard the footsteps heading for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He called, getting off the couch with great effort. Instead of an answer, he heard Fagan break into a run. Arthur growled angrily and followed him. In the short corridors of the house, he could catch the kid. Outside, however, when he’d have to show a little endurance and run for an extended period of time, he simply couldn’t compete. He turned a corner and saw Fagan at the door, trying to unlock it.

“FAGAN!!” Arthur roared, then began to rush at him. Fagan frantically pushed and pulled the key until the lock unlatched. He threw open the door and flew outside, secret box in hand. Arthur stopped at the door, panting.

“GET BACK HERE, FAGAN!!” He yelled at the figure sprinting down the street “IF YOU DON’T TURN AROUND AND COME BACK RIGHT NOW, I’LL MAKE SURE YOU NEVER RUN AGAIN!!” Fagan, however, ignored him and kept running away, turning down an alleyway and disappearing from sight. To say the least, Arthur was seething.

~*~

Of course, Arthur hadn’t called the police about his kid running away. He had known what he was doing wasn’t exactly legal. Besides, he knew Fagan would come back. He had nowhere else to go. He didn’t know any of his relatives. His teacher despised him. He had no friends. He would have to come back if he wanted food or a place to sleep. Arthur sat in Fagan’s pitch black room, waiting for him. He wasn’t going to let him get away this time. He’d make sure Fagan knew exactly how he felt about the situation. The kid would definitely be having a hospital visit. When he finally came home.

Though it had been a few days, Arthur just knew that he’d be back sometime soon. He didn’t have a place to go. He’d have to come right back here and apologize. He’s have to make it up to Arthur. The teacher had been calling, but Arthur just ignored it. What was he supposed to say? “Oh, yeah. He decided to run away because he doesn’t like that I beat him regularly. But don’t worry, he’ll be coming back anytime, now.” Arthur just waited in the pitch black room.

Fagan was bound to come back. It was impossible for a kid to stay out in the streets for long. Besides, it was dangerous out there. He’s get hurt if he didn’t come home. Fagan didn’t know what Arthur knew about the world. About how it might look nice on the outside, but it’s terrible on the inside. Fagan would probably be kidnapped and brutally murdered. He’d get scared and come home. That’s what was bound to happen. Arthur waited for him. He waited for the sound of the front door opening.

He waited for a long time. In fact, he was about to give up, but he heard a soft sound outside the house. Arthur listened carefully. It was definitely a person outside. Climbing the side of the house. Fagan was home. Coming through the window. Arthur put on his disapproving look and crossed his arms. He’d make the kid wish he’s never even had the idea of running away. And thinking to sneak back into the house through the window! He saw a shadowy figure, black against the pitch black of the room. He heard gentle scraping as the window was opened. He watched the figure begin to enter the house.

“And just where have you been?” Arthur asked sharply, knowing he was completely invisible in the room. The figure suddenly stood straight. It was at least six feet tall. That was not Fagan. Arthur began to sweat.

“Who are you?” He asked, bewildered. He saw movement in front of him and turned to run. The last thing he heard was a gunshot.

~*~

Mrs. White was soon informed that Fagan would not be coming back to school. A robber had infiltrated the Tyler house. Unfortunately, Arthur Tyler’s body had been found in the pitch black room, also speculated to be the intruder’s entrance. The house had been ransacked and there was absolutely no sign of Fagan. It was unsure about whether he had been in the house at the time of the break-in, but no one had seen him in quite a while. It was possible he had been kidnapped by the same robber who had searched and failed to find valuables in the house. 

However, the police did have an eyewitness who claims to have seen the robber's face. She came outside when she heard the gunshot in her neighbors house and saw the man exiting the building. She says it was a man named Ralph Winterton. The owner of a nearby restaurant. Mrs. White was informed to keep an eye out for this criminal and to be extra careful when the children when outside for recess.

The hunt for Ralph Winterton began in the pitch black room, but didn’t end there. A day later and a block away trying to buy cigarettes, the killer was found. Fagan never was.

[bravewolfvesperia]

Funny he would hear Flynn say that. He was confusing? Sure, he'd changed - he knew he did - how could he not have? After everything that happened to the Lower Quarter, and after how hard Flynn tried to get help only to fail until he happened to meet Alexei who just happened to dislike the noble who was going after their home, of course he'd changed. They were on their own to help the Lower Quarter. Nobody else but their own would do it for them.

Plain and simple, Yuri did still hate the knights. That was why he had to be there. At least if someone like him was on the inside, he could prevent things from getting too insane. The problem was, they'd been moved from the capital. They were stationed away from home. That wouldn't stop Yuri from wanting to protect the citizens here, and bless them, they were so much like the residents of the Lower Quarter; he just knew it meant that, while he and Flynn were gone, the Lower Quarter was still at the knights' mercy.

So yes, Yuri had changed. He had gotten impatient and annoyed. He had lost the ability to properly express himself when everyone he expressed himself to was gone or not here. Only Flynn was with him, and if this had been a few years ago, that would have been perfect. Nothing but. Flynn had changed in the last few years though, and Yuri didn't know how to get through to him anymore.

"I still hate the knights. Just not these ones." He'd always hated the knights. At least, the ones in the capitol were mostly terrible. There were a few good ones, but... for the most part it was almost like all the good ones were here.

Unfortunately he didn't know how to tell Flynn about the whole "not following orders" bit. He did follow orders if he deemed them just and correct in solidarity. If he had to choose between orders and saving a life though... why would he choose his orders? Why were the knights even allowed to prioritize something over protecting lives? That was what they were there for. Yuri was, perhaps, only still here because Niren shared that view.

But Yuri had, perhaps unintentionally, been taught that sometimes doing the morally or legally "wrong" thing was what it took to save lives. What would have happened to the Lower Quarter if everyone just played nice? The poison would be gone, everyone would be healed... and then the nobles would act again. Attack again. If they had gone as far as attempted murder on more than one occasion, both directly and indirectly, they would have just done it again. Yuri himself had almost done something about it at that time because he'd been fed up.

"You're right. I could get killed. I could have gotten killed by the nobility back home, too, that's so immune to the law or any punishment against them for harming the Lower Quarter, if Jareth hadn't literally saved our lives with his literal dying breaths." He paused, sucking in a shaky breath meant to prevent him from lashing out. It wasn't Flynn he would have been lashing out at, but a situation that was long concluded and buried with those that had died that day.

"I could die being polite and docile in the capitol, or I could die disobeying orders and save lives. I'm not telling you to understand. I'm just telling you that's... the reason for it. I'm not looking to die, but... I can't live like that either." That was just... what his family did. What Flynn's family... didn't. Their families were just... too opposite. Of course they would end up this way. Flynn had been brought up in a more stable social environment. Yuri had been brought up fighting for their lives just to survive. Orders and legality didn't really matter anymore when it was go against the law or die by starvation.

It didn't account for why Yuri was so whiny these days, and part of him knew it was a reaction to not knowing what to do. Nobody needed him anymore like they used to. Nobody believed he could be a knight. That was what he wanted and yet... not just various people around him, but Hanks and Flynn both just looked at him like he was crazy for wanting to be a knight. Despite... despite that Flynn had believed in him so strongly when they signed their names. Despite that Flynn had been the one to insist they make that vow.

If Yuri died, he... didn't want to die like his brother had. Being tricked by the goddamn nobility. By people who exploited their need and honest desire to give their home a better life. They had taken a teenage boy's dreams and hopes and used them against all of them.

And Jareth wasn't here to tell him if that was the right choice or not, but Yuri knew why Jareth wasn't here.

"You're right that I want it to make it to the top... but I don't want to play by their rules along the way and just watch people I know suffer and die until then. If following orders means I'm just being used as someone else's tool and not allowed to have my own will, I can't do that. I can't watch any more people die like that."

Maybe the rest of it was just a need for attention. Disobeying orders wasn't the only thing he did. He was careless and apathetic now. He couldn't change who he was at his core or the way he spoke - he just couldn't - but the rest... it was like the more people doubted him, the more he acted out. And he... couldn't stop. Being a knight was all he had left but he couldn't stop.

"I want to protect people... and make the world a better place at the same time... but what good does it do me to sacrifice who I am just to do that? My will? My words? My personality? That's like... saying people like me can't change anything unless they give up who they are. How is that fair?" He paused, sighing heavily, dropping his head into his hands for a second before raising his head again. "That was rhetorically not directed at you."

Continued from here - @bravewolfvesperia

Truthfully, the odds had been stacked against them since they joined the knights. Not many people joined the knights from the Lower Quarter and it was usually for good reason. Nobody wanted them. As far as anyone else was concerned, they were less than trash who didn’t deserve to stand on equal terms with those of middle or noble status. After all, a noble who had the same rank as either of them would likely pitch the biggest of fits about having to breathe the same air as them much less share a rank. 

When Flynn joined the knights, he went in with that in mind. He had to be perfect. No mistakes, no slip ups, no excuse for anyone to try and beat him down into the dirt where they believed he belonged. It was what he had to do in order to ascend the ranks and change this rotten system from within so no one had to die simply because the nobles willed it. No one like his mother, like Jareth, like all the men, women, children that died simply because they were in the way. 

And then Yuri joined, with the dream of protecting the Lower Quarter and Flynn– for that moment– felt proud. Happy even. Yuri had always been like that. Always striving forward, doing what he could, just to protect the ones he loved. It was admirable, even. And, in a way, it was less lonely. Flynn was almost ecstatic to know that even through the toughest of moments, Yuri would be there, right next to him. As they’ve always been before Flynn had moved away.

But… sometimes it seemed like Yuri didn’t truly understand just how dangerous it was for him to act so casually. So rashly. He questioned orders, he acted too familiar with his superiors, he disregarded orders– For good reasons usually but the fact remained that he was disobeying orders and if they had a captain that was less merciful, Yuri would have been kicked out long ago. 

Flynn truly wanted Yuri to stay but he was simply showing the entire force that people from the Lower Quarter were uncontrollable savages. Flynn… didn’t think that of Yuri but he knew the nobles and others would quickly latch onto that had they seen how Yuri acted sometimes. It was nerve wracking and sometimes Flynn wondered if Yuri was actually serious about protecting the Lower Quarter. If so, wouldn’t he take care in how he acted and how he spoke?

Flynn quietly moved over to the other as he sat on the edge of his bed. He didn’t make any move to touch him or ask him to turn around and instead, sat on the other end of the bed, back to back with the other. Hearing that Yuri was slowly losing interest in trying to talk with him… it… hurt. It hurt a lot. And maybe there was some self-loathing part of him that agreed. Yuri really shouldn’t care to talk to him. Yuri wasn’t the biggest fan of the knights but Flynn had the blood of one. Perhaps that was why Flynn was so surprised to see Yuri here?

Flynn opened his mouth to speak but now he was terrified. He was already bad at speaking to begin with. He put his emotions into his words but sometimes, they came out more rude and accusing more than anything. 

 “You… confuse me.” Flynn finally settled on, wringing his hands together. “You hated the knights growing up, didn’t you? But you joined them anyway. And it was to protect others. That part at least seemed in character for you. But… you talk back against orders you don’t like, you run into battle without thinking it through, you act overly casual with our superiors… Captain Niren might be alright with it but most other Captains wouldn’t be.”

He had been too hard on the other, he probably had a point about that. But Yuri was so damned stubborn at times. As if Flynn had room to talk though. “I don’t want to criticize you, Yuri, but… this? What we’ve both set out to do here? We won’t get anywhere if we don't make our way to the top. And this is not me giving any of those ‘stupid insults’ or anything like that. ” 

Because it could be seen as such, Flynn knew that much. That was the scariest part. The idea that Yuri would stop giving him the time of day. “I’m trying to tell you that this isn’t… something we can just act so casual with. Our superiors may disapprove. Or… Or worse, if you keep running into danger without thinking carefully for a moment, you could be killed, Yuri!”

And the idea of having to carry Yuri’s lifeless body back to their base, the idea of losing yet another person to something like this was horrifying.