#on silvester then the whole day

[godofthestupid]

Happy New Year everybody!

hope everyone had a wonderful time and let's see what this new year will bring us (⌒▽⌒)☆

I personally spent it drawing just for the drawing to be kind of shit lol I will be redoing it and take proper care to make it look good instead of the trash it turned out to be

My personal goals for this year aren't really different from last year(which I managed to fulfill!) ,I want to improve my art skills,maybe start making a simple game(I already have an idea for it),actually start working out(have also been doing this but I want to do it every day instead of every other day),go to the doctor to sort out the pretty obvious allergies I seem to have,get a job I actually like that also pays well and become more extroverted ∑d(°∀°d)

[imshymorph]

Finally, it’s here (i’m so sorry) Part 3 of Death!Ghost and Life!Reader. You can read Part 1 and Part 2 here.

Just like any other time, the both of you slip into quiet silence. Admiring the world around you, the one you both contribute to keep balanced and prospering.

“Would you mind me asking a question in return?” You ask, fingers plucking small silvester flowers to braid them together. You barely turn to face him after your question before going back to the braiding.

- - - - -

“No, go ahead.” He says, moving one arm up to rest his head on it, his other hand feeling the soil under him, not minding the way some of the dirt clings to the fabric of his glove.

You hesitate for a moment, not sure how to word your thoughts properly. You end up laying back like he is, looking up at the birds flying around and the small wispy clouds that add a pop of white to the blue sky. It’s then that you manage to ask, “Do you ever feel like you got the short end of the stick?”

He’s surprised at your question, he’s not sure what he was expecting you to ask, but it definitely wasn’t that. It really isn’t something he thinks much about, mainly because it holds at least a slight bit of truth to it.

“Maybe not the short end.” He murmurs after a bit, “Both sides are equally important. And it’s been like this since pretty much the beginning of time.” he says, turning his head to look at you.

You nod lightly, mirroring his movement to look at him as well. “It has… It doesn’t take away the fact that you’re the one dealing with it.” you say softly.

“Well, you deal with it too.” He says with a light shrug, “you have to see your creations being taken away. Know that they will at some point while creating them.”

You hesitate for a second before nodding lightly, “That’s true. But it’s different.” As you try to string your thoughts together, you turn to your side, now fully facing him as your head rests against your folded arm. “There has to be a balance, and like you said, I'm aware it’s going to happen from the beginning. The parts have to end so the whole can be continued. But you have the task of ending it, not just the knowledge that it’ll happen.”

“Hmm, it’s how it works, isn’t it? We complement each other, keep it balanced.” He says, and you know he's avoiding the implicit question you’re trying to make.

You look at him, study him. Noticing the stark difference between the both of you. The way he always had to keep hidden, not only with the mask but the robes that covered all of his body, the cape with a hood he always wore. While you were free to feel, free to be, he had to keep to himself.

You let the silence build between the both of you for a moment before you finally give in, asking him what you’ve really wanted to know this whole time. “I know, but do you feel bad for having to take them?” you whisper, feeling like if you were to ask any louder the whole world would stand still.

He hesitates for a few seconds, his eyes drifting anywhere but you before he lets out a deep sight. “Yes, it hurts… I try to be comforting, but not everyone can manage the fear they get.” he murmurs, blinking a couple times before looking at you. The angle of his face making the warm sunshine hit his skin, making his soft curls look like honey. “But it has to be done. At the end of the day, I'm the embodiment of the end.”

You nod lightly, laying on your back once more as you look up to the passing clouds, “I wish we could change positions from time to time. Share the weight.” you whisper, not even sure if he could hear you.

If he does, he doesn’t say anything. Neither does he when you gently grab his hand and move it closer to you, slipping the braided flowers over it and around his wrist. Both of you ignoring how the few leaves that reach under his sleeve and touch his skin wilt.

[mpsansy]

Can't believe I'm opening my mouth to this, but I have thought about the trio's personal lives. Nothing too grand, but hear me out. This might be goofy cause I’m talking about love life hehe.

Okay, here we go.

_ _ _

Out of the trio, Franklin is the one who gets married. And to a beautiful woman who had the voice that could shake the world. Surely shaked Franklin's as the two met while preforming in Italy. She was an opera singer so that would explain the booming voice she possessed. If I am to speak honestly, Franklin could genuinely go on an on about her and how confident & tough she was. Or how she had these pearly white smile, or even how dark her hair was. Just…. Yeah. He really liked her very much.

Needless to say, the man admired her. And her feelings were mutual with him. Such a fun man to be around with. And his voice coming oh so close to her own. A pair of lovebirds they were.

*

Aside from him. Silvester wasn't involved in the whole love scene. Not that he didn't like it, rather he was so wrapped up in his career in insects and the environment that he didn't give it a second thought. However that didn't stop two ladies that were enamored by him.

The first lady was quite tall compared to him. Dressed nice, but admittedly her hair was a bit all over the place due to running her family's shop. She seemed tired because of it as well, so often enough he'd find her drinking a cup of tea or coffee. Tea was for a nice wake up call, and coffee was for "dear god, just let me get through the day".

That said, her face would light up when seeing him come by. Always so fascinated with his observations and studies that he'd be happy to share with her when she wasn't so busy. She, too, was very knowledgeable about most topics involving the environment, but many people weren’t interested in her speaking about such things. He was though, so he gave her time to speak about it.

Opposite to the first lady here, at least appearance wise, is the other. Now she was one who dressed beautifully. Hair fixed nicely, wore a large hat that practically hid her from the sun, and a dark colored dress fitting her skinny frame. And that pale completion? Looked almost like porcelain.

Many times people tried to attract the woman, but it ultimately failed because, simply, she didn't want them around her. But who would be the one that frequently caught her eyes? Silvester. Much like the first woman, she was interested in his talks. So if she so much as caught him on the street or in a shop drinking? She’d come over and help herself with having a conversation with him.

So here he’d have two ladies sitting side by side, peering into his journals as he continued to ramble like there was no tomorrow.

(These two ladies loved a nerdy little man)

...

To be fair, I really wanted to talk about these two and their relationships. Cause these have been thoughts that have been circling my brain. It’s dumb, but why not be a little goofy with it!? I just wanna have fun and talk about them just as much as I do with Casper.

[sunny-mercya]

The Cruel King

01. Trigger

Nordic 5 x Male Reader

Fandom -> Hetalia

Masterlist | Next

»Älskling,«

Berwalds voice was gruff as always—deep and rough like old firewood—throughout the years it had become to age like this.

Normally Berwald didn't need to wake you up and if they had to, Tino would be the one who does it—though Tino was currently busy downstairs, trying to tame the Dane and having everything in a civil matter—and if Berwald had reasons to wake you, it would be during the times you would get sick.

»Älskling,« Berwald tried again, shaking your shoulder slightly—trying to get a reaction of stirring from you. No avail, you wouldn't bug. You probably were already awake, just opted to make it seem as if you were still sleeping.

Berwald heaved out a sigh, sitting down on the edge of your—their—bed. Running his calloused hand over your shoulder, arm and back. Hoping if he could easy you a bit, you were more willing to get up.

»Älskling, he isn't gonna hurt you anymore. I promise and if he might try, the others and I will be here to keep you safe.« he had leaned down, sure that he will get some minimal backache from it, whispering the promise into your ear.

It had been only the second day since the Dane—Matthias—had been stayed over in their home—the whole family does during Christmas, which is a absolute first after all these years of not—and it already had started a downhill in your mood.

You turned only slightly towards Berwald, looking at him with bleary puffy red eyes. With a slight intake of motion you gestured to Berwald to lay down next to you, which he—with slight hesitation of not wanting to get too cozy when work had to be done—does as you asked.

For a long time of by passing seconds which turns into minutes—and then perhaps into a hour or two—you starred at Berwald, playing with his fingers, leaving a silence between you two.

»It's only till after Silvester«

»I–I can't–can't go down there, where—where Mat–mat–mat–where he is. I just can't Ber, it's too much–too much to bear.«

You clenched your eyes shut, memories of the past flooding your mind, bringing another wave of trembling havoc.

Berwald fingers wandering towards your cheek, caressing over them.

»I know älskling, I know. But you have to get up at one point or you will make Tino into a worried mother-hen.«

With that being said, Berwald got off the bed and in one swift motion scooped you up in his arms and carry you downstairs into the livingroom.

~~~

Tino, while cooking todays lunch, cast every so often—when he could leave the stove and the dish preparing alone for every two minutes— a worried glance into the livingroom towards you.

You, who sats apathetic on the Sofa—watching with no interest some show on the tv and listen to Peters—who plays with his Legos—happily chatter. Emil, who sat next to you, occasionally shows you something in the book he reads.

It was good that it was just them in the house for now. Because if Matthias would be here—which he is not as Berwald took him out to get more firewood—the entire mood would drop into a 360° degree angle of downhill.

Still Tino felt like as if it had been a bad idea to celebrate Christmas, after all these decades of years and centuries—after their separations of independence—together as a family.

Too soon it was perhaps as the mental scars of abuse, neglect and tyranny you had endured hadn't healed.

»Tino, relax. If you run like a worried mother-hen you will make yourself stressed out.« said Lukas, sipping his fifth cup of coffee.

»I know I know, just, have you seen [Name]? I'm worried it will end into another decaying episode of lasting Depression. It took us years to have him as of now, happy, lively.«

»Tino, I know. I was there too. Still, getting yourself worked up, will cause him just as much stress as yourself.«

Tino sighed in defeat, nodding at Lukas and returning his attention fully back to the cooking. Lukas was right, worrying would just make it worse, he needs to stay calm—having a level headed mind.

Lukas downed the rest of his coffee, standing up from the chair and going towards the counters—about to prepare his next and last cup for the next few hours.

»We all know how Matthias was back then and we also know that he has changed to someone better. It just, [Name] has stayed too long, too loyal with him during his wrath time that it will take more than just a few hundred years to grant him a forgiveness.«

Tino hummed, giving no reply to what Lukas had said as he was right. Though his mind wanders back to the rough times in the past and when [Name] came to them and asked for sanctuary.

~~~

Lunch had been uneventful, embossed with unnerving silence and still apathetic behaviour—you barely touched the food, only having about three bite before pushing the plate away and toying with the napkin—from your side and excitedly loud chatter from Matthias.

It had been afterwards that you started, in a way they didn't thought would happen again, react again.

Matthias had said something in Danish to you, something innocently mundane with a cheeky smile of his—thought he could bring you to talk, wanting to hear your voice—your cheerful chatter—after so long again.

In a flash you turned around to him. Body going rigid into a lock. Wide eyed you starred at him—at Matthias—and then as if you were in a sort of trance, on autopilot, you bowed down and replying in old danish back to him.

They all, especially Matthias, were perplexed at your action. Watching how you took Emil by his hands and taking him upstairs—coming back down seconds after, walking into the livingroom and taking a whole box of Peters toy with you to whichever room you had taken Emil.

Lukas pursed his lips, crossing his arms and tilting his head a bit as he glanced with narrowed eyes at Matthias. Scoffing just slightly under his breath. He had a hunch to what just happen—why you begun to act like this—so out of character and at the same time it wasn't—and it wasn't even Matthias fault, but it was—not with what he had said today, but with his actions he had done in the past.

»Huh, I've never seen my Skat act like this.« mused Matthias out, genuinely confused. He shrugged it off albeit, grin returning to his lips and saying something along the lines of; c'mon Peter let's go and build some snowmans

Whilst Lukas begun to walk upstairs, it was now Berwalds turn to glare with a narrowing gaze at the Dane.

»Ber, don't.« whispered Tino to his Husband, placing a hand on his arm. Starting now a fight, wouldn't be a great idea.

~~~

»What you're doing there [Nickname]?« Lukas leaned against the doorframe, having found you and Emil rather quickly.

»Keeping watch over our little Emil like the good Servant I am. The great King is not supposed to be distributed during the time of after lunch.« as you told Lukas, you had switched from old danish to norwegian and into your own native tongue—Schurlisch—in a spawn of seconds.

Lukas was rather glad that they all had decided to learn each other's language.

You started to whisper reassuring words to Emil. Giving him a comforting smile—of the kind he remembers when Emil had been little and when Matthias had one after another, too many, drunken nights which were more than often filled with manic, anger and bloodshed—taking another Wooden toy and showed it to him.

Unfortunately his guess had been right. Matthias causal use of „Skat“ had triggered your mind back into the old past. You had lost your grip on reality—thinking you are Matthias spouse, but also Servant and assistant, again.

A sad sight to witness, though who could and would blame you? It wasn't your fault that you were scarred, brand-marked even, by the past and actions of someone you once loved.

Lukas debated with himself, weighing out the pros and cons, if he was about to play along or trying to pull you out of this reality stupor.

»You want me to join in?«

»Are you finish with your today's duties?«

»Indeed I am, Vennen«

«Then suit yourself, mei freunor«

For now, just for today, Lukas mused in thoughts as he sits down across from you and Emil, he would play along.

[mint-ty]

I've seen many takes on real people shipping on various platforms and recently it feels like it has intensified (for example tiktok shouting that Silvester and Nemo can't be shipped bcs one of them have a gf), so here's ✨️my personal list✨️ of reasons

why RPF is fine:

Celebrities have personal and public life, they also have personal and public image. Public image is what has been given to public and policing it would be like policing weather. Very important to separate that real person and this perceived person is two different things. It's okay to take inspiration from what has been willingly given out on stage or social media. (In addition, everything is out-of-character because none of us know these people personally, it's 100% up to imagination at this point)

Lgbtq+, trans and female (gn) audiences will make everything gay. Why it has to be gay/lesbian? Because cis straight fantasy doesn't remove real live experiences of being a lesser person in a straight male dominated world. It's not fun at all. I want fantasy to be there for me so I can escape and to forget. Hetero romance always been pushed down our throats with "how you should look/act/be/perform" - no thank you.

Why sexual? It allows to explore sexuality without being present and without any real risks (for example I'm attracted to men, but my real life experiences with men have been highly unpleasant and unsatisfactory). It's about safety. And contrary to traditional adult movies it doesn't reduce characters to a mostly unwilling object. The whole point is to show that personality and sexuality go together and sexual feelings are okay to experience in whatever form you imagine it. It's simply not possible to write fanfics degrading like regular porn, because it's about characters and their feelings - main things that are removed in porn.

I could go more into detail, but in summary if you like a real person - you will think about that person. And how you think - it's 100% up to you. And what you create - 100% up to you. If it makes you move with your day and forget personal crap - everything helps. (Key word "helps". If whatever rpf is making someone upset - that's deeper personal issues that should be privately analized without attacking others who don't feel the same.)

Circling back to 'celebrities have two lives: private and public one' - they don't need their public image in their privacy aka don't show them rpf, they'll find it themselves if they want to. No one's problem if they know or don't know.

[anastpaul]

Dedication of the Basilicas of Peter and Paul and Memorials of the Saints - 18 November

Dedication of the Basilicas of Peter and Paul and Memorials of the Saints – 18 November

Dedication of the Basilicas of Peter and Paul:From the twelfth century the Dedications of the Vatican Basilica of St Peter and the Basilica of St Paul on the Via Ostiense, have been celebrated on this day, as the anniversary of their dedication by St Pope Silvester and St Pope Siricius in the fourth century. In more recent times, this feast has been extended to the whole Roman Rite. As the…

[wa-royal-tea]

Myshuno Museum To Exhibit Royal Weddings Dresses and Tiaras

After several years of waiting, Myshuno Museum finally launches an exhibition where dresses worn by the royals on their wedding day are to be exhibited in a show room for everyone in the country to see up close. The royal family generously agreed to lent the museum the dresses that they have worn with the condition that the said dresses are to be put in a temperature and climate controlled room.

The royal family attended the launch together as a whole and everyone was excited to see the group walking around the showroom and looking at their wedding dresses. Each one of them seemed immersed in their viewings as they walked back down the memory lane with their spouses. 

Most of the dresses shown in the exhibition has been seen before as these dresses were from the then-Crown Princess Arisa’s wedding to Lord Anthony Silvester and the current Crown Princess’ wedding to her husband. We also get to see the dress that the late Princess Irene wore on her private wedding to Prince Emery. The Prince looked like he was lost in thought when he was looking at his wedding portrait as well as the wedding dress of his late wife.

The exhibition will be open to the public for a month and visitors will be charged with §12 per entry. All of the money collected from the exhibition will be donated to the charities across the country.

Previous | Beginning | Next

[broken-mirrors-binding-magic]

Song Fic: Stressed Out

Song: Stressed Out by Twenty One Pilots Characters: Silvester Lehmann and Wyn Sweeney Ships: N/A

“Your majesty, please excuse the intrusion, but I must insist on you joining me in the war room.”

Wyn slowly stood from the dining table, glancing at his wife and daughter, “Enjoy the meal without me. Don’t wait up. You know how these impromptu meetings can be.”

Within seconds he was marching down the hall, following the lead of his trusty right hand in silence. Wyn wasn’t always a fan of silence, but he learned quickly as a teen that Silvester found comfort in it.

As the door to the war room closed behind them, Silvester finally turned to Wyn, “They’ve officially declared war, Wyn.”

Wyn scoffed, sitting in his chair at the head of the table, “You haven’t called me by my name in so long Sylvie. You must be worried…”

Silvester poured the two men drinks before sitting in his seat beside Wyn, “I’m worried we can’t keep this up for as long as we used to, my friend.”

Wyn smiled softly at the drink in his hands, “Cocoa, just like when we were kids… Where did you find this?”

Silvester chuckled, “Of course that would be your focus. It seems good Queen Runa had a whole storeroom full of the stuff. Valerie came across it while helping your wife prepare for the ball.”

Wyn laughed, gently knocking his cup against Silvester’s, “Hiding something like this does sound like my mother.”

Silvester nodded, “She did enjoy hiding most things. What did she add on to the castle, five secret rooms?”

Wyn smirked, “Rooms, tunnels, who knows how much. We’re still finding them to this day. If we hadn’t lost the maps she drew we’d know.”

“Who knows, maybe they’ll turn up eventually.”

“So Sylvie, that’s enough reminiscing, why are you so worried?”

Silvester rolled a scroll out before them, “It seems there have been alliances made under our noses. This isn’t just a conflict between us and them, they’ve gathered forces. They even reached out to the Landvik in hopes of having them turn on us. We can’t handle this kind of attack, especially with our numbers dying off from disease.”

Wyn sighed, sipping his drink, “Guess we need to dust off the armor, just like the old days.”

[sinceileftyoublog]

Billie Marten Interview: Quiet Confidence

Photo by Katie Silvester

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“Where are you calling from?” I asked Billie Marten during our Zoom last month.

“East London,” she replied, “Like everyone else,” simultaneously rolling her eyes at and embracing the scene in which she’s found herself embedded.

The 22-year-old’s wry sense of humor, observations, and self-awareness complement the earnestness she’s shown on her three LPs, especially last month’s terrific Flora Fauna (IMPERIAL/Fiction Records). Though the rawer aesthetic of the record was influenced by a spontaneous, drunken purchase of a bass guitar, and many of the album’s instrumentals were fleshed out in the studio with producer Rich Cooper, Marten both dug deep within her psyche and branched out to the world around her to tackle the album’s themes of self-care and empathy. Opener “Garden of Eden” doesn’t waste any time, its drums rumbling and guitars scraping as Marten compares caring for people to tending to plants. It’s a sentiment that hits even harder after a year-plus of lockdown-induced isolation, when for many of us keeping our pets and plants alive was the only thing we felt like we could control. Throughout the record, Marten’s honest about her relationship with herself, relatable in her alternating between endurance and self-doubt. “Trying hard to teach myself a lesson / Give my body patience to bree free,” she sings on the hip hop-influenced “Heaven”; even if a partner or folks in the world around her think they’re already self-actualized, Marten’s looking out for her own mental health. On the flipside, a chaotically fuzzy stomp like “Ruin” has Marten declaring that treating others like she treats herself would be bullying: “Got a war with my body / Never win, never lose,” she sings desperately. 

Flora Fauna is much more than a collection of the good days and the bad days, though. Marten communes with all sorts of living things, from street pigeons to gardens. And perhaps the most consequential song on the album is “Human Replacement”, a song about women not being able to walk alone at night, inspired by a seemingly increasing rash of violent attacks on women in the UK over the past few years. In its juxtaposition of infectious groove and essential, in-your-face subject matter, it reminds me of U.S. Girls’ weighty “Incidental Boogie”. For Marten, putting herself in others’ shoes, in a sense, allows her to become something else. On minimal closer “Aquarium”, over strummed acoustic guitar, she sings, “Do you wanna go to the aquarium? / I feel I lately wanna drown / Sit down, stare out, shut up, and swim around.” She’s able to nurture an environment by immersing herself in it, like how dirt finds its way on her face and between her teeth on the album’s cover.

Marten’s getting ready to get back out there, with some festival dates in the summer and a UK tour in July. For now, she’s relishing reflection and admissions. Towards the end of our interview, in which she had her camera on but I didn’t, she told me, “I like that your camera’s not on. It feels like I’m in a confession booth.” Flora Fauna’s got to be the greenest confession booth in the world.

Since I Left You: How did you approach the order of the tracks on Flora Fauna?

Billie Marten: I definitely wanted it to follow the classic storyline writing/curve. “Garden of Eden” starts off with the plant, everything’s open, and you really get the main feel of the album there, and “Creature of Mine” is twisting you up to this darker, punchier world, and “Human Replacement” is very in-your-face. “Liquid Love” would be the plot twist. Then, eventually, we float down to the second side of the album and get back into that acoustic-y world slightly more, but it’s definitely still different from the first two albums. Laid bare with nothing but an acoustic...on the last song of the album. I love that it’s quite a loud beginning but very quiet ending, which is what a lot of album campaigns end up being. You’re selling this thing you’ve made for two years, and it’s all, “Look at me, here I am, here’s what I’ve been doing, here’s how much better I am.” That air of improvement has to be there. But in the end, it is what it is. Take it or leave it. I’m not a naturally outgoing, competitive person, so I quite like finishing it with an air of quiet confidence rather than being brash and loud.

SILY: "Garden of Eden” almost has its own quiet confidence. It starts like you’re already in the middle of a conversation.

BM: I definitely wanted it to be immediate, like you’re dropped into my life without any warning. Have you seen Soul?

SILY: Yes.

BM: What did you think?

SILY: I thought it was very good. What about you?

BM: I loved it, and I thought it was the best philosophical education you could have in two hours. It made me think of it that way, because he drops to the real world. I wanted that feeling here.

SILY: I read an interview you did that had the title “We really are just plants,” and I was thinking that while reading about the record before it came out and eventually listening to it. Was it important for you to start the record with a song that compared us to something that’s also living but we don’t always think about as living?

BM: Absolutely. Well said. We’re actually really easy to take care of. That’s why I wanted to simplify it down in the melting pot. Take away emotion from it. In the end, we just need water and light and a bit of space, but not too much, to survive. I was very aware of that whole concept. Especially in London, it’s, “Look how much I’ve grown or will be growing in the future,” not, “How’s everyone else doing? How’s your soil?”

SILY: On “Liquid Love”, you sing about “wanting to wake up as a human every morning.” Does that song point to an eternal optimism?

BM: That was very much an affirmation type line for me. That line about waking up every morning was about how glad I was able to do that, because not everyone gets to do that for a long time. The song’s a love/hate relationship with drinking, which I was doing quite a lot of in the first few years of music. I get hangovers really badly. It doesn’t take me a lot to be completely out of action for the entire next day. That line was about just waking up and feeling proper and normal as a human, because I’ve spent a lot of days not being able to function, and it was really getting to me. We rely on our conscience to remind us to take care of ourselves all the time.

SILY: Is your relationship with drinking now different?

BM: It’s definitely a lot better, and I’m a much happier person. I don’t use it the same. I don’t need it in my life; I just enjoy it. 80% of us probably have the same struggle with it. It’s something you can control, and something that takes us out of real life entirely. It takes up your attention for hours and hours at a time. It’s an incredible mask for genuine problems. With music, it’s around a lot of the time. Some people just can’t function without it. I have big realizations all the time. My body’s telling me to stop doing it and stop smoking as well. I keep getting tonsillitis every month. I think it’s its way of saying to chill out.

SILY: The theme of being able to control certain things seems to pervade the record. It relates to nature, too. On the album closer, your garden seems to represent a balance, a place where you can influence nature but not control it.

BM: I have a really strong urge to protect an environment. I use the word cradle a lot. It’s important that humans can do that with other ones. I wanted that side of confidence I’ve developed but to let people know it’s okay to be and remain vulnerable. I think those are some of the best sides of people. If I think of my friends, I don’t think of them as who they are when they know they’re being watched. I tend to think of what they’ve been through, their low points, who they are when they’re being honest. “Aquarium” is very much that sort of confessional poem.

SILY: There are other natural entities in song titles on here that symbolize something, like “Walnut” and “Pigeon”. I think I read the latter is a yoga pose?

BM: No. I was literally referring to the one-legged pigeons that hang around London that are all gammy and rough and ready and tough characters.

SILY: The pigeon is really smart and historically used for a lot but we think of them as rats.

BM: They’re complete vermin.

SILY: It’s almost like the way we treat nature and/our ourselves.

BM: Exactly. There’s such a different between a rural pigeon and a capital city pigeon. They’re almost completely different species. It’s funny. I’m getting a lot of misconstrued things coming out of this record, people saying I’ve left London, I’ve found spirituality, the pigeon thing. All of these things just aren’t true.

SILY: That’s sometimes a good thing. Of course there’s a line where someone says something completely wrong and claims it to be true, but do you like in general for people to be able to interpret your lyrics the way they want to?

BM: Yes. I’ve had a lot of experience [with the former], especially because we’re doing these things on Zoom, and then you read the written piece and it’s so different from how the conversation went. It’s an interesting social experiment. But I love when people take images and phrases and meanings for themselves and make them their own. It’s a great sign someone’s getting something from your music even when it’s not happening in your head.

SILY: On “Creature of Mine”, that post-apocalyptic, “this is our last chance” type vibe--Is that a scenario you often entertain, and how do you feel about it?

BM: I’m a sucker for diving deep into rumination in a very large, existential plane. Thinking just spirals until it gets bigger and bigger and you get to a point where you’re completely irrelevant. Like watching Cosmos or David Attenborough. [It puts] your existence into a tiny hole. I think sometimes that’s really positive because it helps me understand when I’m nervous for a performance or gig, it’s good to put yourself in perspective. However, it sometimes makes you not want to do things because they’re ultimately not important. It’s a fine balance with that style of thinking. It’s automatic for me. It’s my constant thought train.

SILY: Are there other places on the album, even if not in the same context, where you refer to that spiraling thought process?

BM: I think “Ruin” is especially difficult in that I was noting down my thought process, and that’s what the verses are. I don’t know why I do it, but it makes me feel good. I needed to do that to get it out of me and understand how ridiculous that thought train is. The chorus tries to put this analogy of [wasting] time being a crime. That’s what I was doing: I was wasting a lot of time thinking about it, so every time I sing it, it’s a weird slipstream universe type thing.

SILY: I asked the question hoping you would say “Ruin”. When you sing, “Got a war with my body / Never win, never lose,” it reminded me of that thought process. It goes in a circle. It’s not a linear thing.

BM: There’s no point in putting an element of battle into it. There’s no opponent. It’s just you. You could try and find opponents with other people, but that doesn’t usually work out either. This whole album is fleshing out these huge subjects I ultimately have no control over. Putting my two cents in and leaving it at that, making these musical, experimental creations. 

SILY: “Human Replacement” seems to be one where the juxtaposition between the instrumentation and subject matter is sort of contrasting. It’s this funky strut, but the song’s about women feeling and being unsafe alone at night on the streets. Were you conscious of that contrast making that song?

BM: Me and my producer [Cooper], that was the first song we did together in this album, so it needed to come out very immediate. I just had that [sings melody], and he sat on the kit just trying it out. I had no idea what I wanted to talk about. I was going into this Queens of the Stone Age, grungy, late-night mood. I didn’t have the narrative because what they sing about wasn’t relevant to me. I was looking outside and hearing all the sirens and hearing about what was happening in the news every day, and it was a subject that needed to happen. I wouldn’t say I’m in any way a political writer, but it is a massive problem. It’s a shame that narrative came out of me. The subject matter had to match the severity of the song. I couldn’t really talk about my own feelings in that song. It had to be a bigger subject.

SILY: Are songs like those more or less difficult to perform live?

BM: I don’t know. I worried about playing that one live because it’s so serious. My between-song chat is very much not serious. It’s my personality, which is who I am when I’m not performing. So I was worried I wouldn’t give it the air time it needs. Then again, most people don’t even listen to lyrics. They just like the way a song feels. It’s important to entertain those people as well. It can’t be all doom and gloom. I would say it’s harder than talking about myself, which I’ve been doing since I was 12.

SILY: How was playing your gig?

BM: It was at Banquet [Records], a record store in South London. I thought we were gonna be in the actual shop, me and my long-term collaborator and bandmate and TM Jason. He just makes a bit of [drum] kit, and I’m on acoustic. It turned out to be in this proper venue in this theater. It was a gig. I’m really glad we got pushed into that environment. Anything else would have been a lot more daunting.

SILY: Was it your first time playing many of these songs?

BM: Yes. There are still ones I have no idea how to play. I need to figure that out quite soon. [laughs]

SILY: Are you looking forward to touring?

BM: Yes. Massively. I really needed this break to make me realize that because I think gigs can be really hard for people. I definitely find that. There have been certain moments where I wish I wasn’t going on stage. Now it’s just like we have been given this gift again of living normally. It would be incredibly inappropriate to feel otherwise.

SILY: What else is next for you?

BM: Definitely writing. I want to start recording again. I can do it now since we’ll be so busy. It’s shaping up into a completely different soundscape again, which is interesting. You’re always going.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading lately that’s caught your attention?

BM: This band called Coco. I don’t even know how I found them. They’ve got no information about them whatsoever. I think they’re American. They have 3 songs on Spotify. They’re very very good. To be honest, I’m not very good at watching things at the moment. I watched Nomadland and loved that. Mostly it will always be The Simpsons. To be honest, I’ve been too busy recently. I’ve been looking forward to June. Wait, we are in June! It’s the 2nd day of June. Well, I’m looking forward to this month, where I can do more domestic things again and stop talking about myself. [laughs]

[deceptive-jo]

Thanks for reblogging my Iplier Ego moodboard post! 🤗 I saw your list of ships at the top of your blog and I was wondering if you could create either a quick drabble and/or a moodboard for Dark x Janus (if your still taking requests lol)? For some reason, I'm getting 'slow dancing in the moonlight' vibes from those two... Thank you in advance and I hope you have a great day! 😋

1. Well, they do look great!

2. Requests are open until I say otherwise so you're good! Moodboard; it got a bit longer than a drabble, I hope that's okay :)

Words: 584

Warnings: none

They first met at a gala. Janus couldn't remember which but he assumed it was silvester. He had been standing at the side the whole evening, drinking wine and watching the other pairs dance. None of the others had come, not with him anyway. But that didn't seem to matter as his eyes caught onto the entity standing across the room. Of course he knew Darkiplier - who didn't? - but Janus hadn't actually imagined him to be so...breathtaking. Almost as in trance he stared at the Ego, who suddenly lifted his head and looked him right in the eyes. Slowly he began making his way over to Janus, fixing his flawless cuffs, but never breaking eye contact. "Mr Sanders", he greeted him in his deep voice. "Darkiplier", Janus just nodded. On secound thought, he really didn't want anything to do with this entity. Why was that? "It is nice to finally see you here." "It's so nice to be here, too", that was a lie. Janus still didn't know why he had come. "Lets dance", the offered hand nearly caught Janus off guard but he pulled himself together in the last moment. "No, unfortunately I can't dance", another lie. He and Virgil had learned to dance right before prom. "I wasn't asking", Dark's tone was slowly loosing its smoothness. "Neither was I", the answer was short and daring but Janus knew that behind it laid fear. Of what he couldn't tell.

This evening they parted ways without speaking again.

The next time they saw each other, he was a she. Dark appeared behind her, turning a cocktail glass in her hand. "Dark?" She nodded, "Janice. You look lovely tonight." "So do you", that one was true. The way the slim skirt hugged the Ego's body was quite exquisite. Said Ego let her eyes drift around the ballroom. "Lets dance", the dry requests was answered with a quiet chuckle. Janice knew why she would decline (not that she wanted to). "I'm afraid my list is already full", the partner list she pulled out was fake, Dark could find out as such, but it would work for now. "Well, then I still wish you a nice evening." Janice watched as the woman disappeared in the crowd. Her "likewise" remained unheard.

The third time Janus visited a gala he actually danced. But not with Dark, for they were nowhere to be seen. It wasn't until Janus stepped out onto the balcony that he saw them leaning against the railing. They truly looked stunning in that white suit, that nearly blended in with the snow. Dark didn't react when Janus set down his glass and began studying them; the way the moon light reflected in their eyes, how their hair nearly covered one side of their face completely...they were still as stunning and beautiful. And he wouldn't run away from that beauty this time! "I haven't seen you dance yet", the Side remarked. "It's too loud inside." Okay, that was it... "Exactly. Lets dance." Dark looked at the extended hand, trying not to let his confusion show. Still, slowly he took it, while his other hand came to rest on Janus' shoulder. And then they began to dance.

It was just a slow waltz, but dancing it here, out on the balcony, with the moonlight shining down on them...they couldn't have asked for anything else. Once the song ended they stayed like this, embracing each other in the cold. They didn't really talk any more. But they danced and that was enough for now.

[rkivepacks]

TITLE: can i call you that in this lifetime?  (umarekawari] Pairing: taekook/kookv/vkook (Kim Taehyung & Jeon Jeongguk) Rating: PG13 Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Reincarnation au,  Word Count: 6,630 Trigger Warning/s: Swearing, Major Character Death but Reincarnated, Mentions of drugs

Disclaimer: This work is solely from the idea of the author. Should there be similarities with the works of other respected artists are purely unintentional. This also do not reflect on the real lives of the artists portrayed in this work. Comments, suggestions and any other concerns are accepted in my inbox. Thank you! 

Summary: “Whatever, you just admitted your dog looks like literal shit but with fur.”“That dog was you, asshole.”— the au where they promised to meet each other in all lifetimes but then jeongguk was reincarnated as a fucking dog

mimoto.

Taehyung closed the journal where he writes his letter to Jeongguk, keeps them inside his bag, before putting his attention on his phone who has been ringing with the notifications coming in in succession. The world they lived in was not as blessed. You only have one love of your life given to you whom you will spend all your lifetimes with. Sometimes, you remember them, at some you don’t. In some, you won’t even get to remember them – their face, their voice, memories of being with them in their past life.

Lifetimes wherein they could remember each other, where they always seem to find each other, always have a special place in their hearts. Lifetimes wherein they did not see each other or recognize each other always seem to haunt them, reminding them they can’t be happy in all lifetimes.

Taehyung remembers that one life time where Taehyung always knew ever since he can remember that he has to find Jeongguk. Needs to. Knew that Jeongguk is out there somewhere, waiting for him, or looking for him, no matter the circumstance. The said circumstance composed of the two meeting when the Philadelphia Police Department got a hold of a different man named Taehyung Kim, one that is innocent and in fact does not have a possession of illegal drugs. It just happened that Jeongguk was the detective who worked on the notorious drug lord that goes with the same name of Taehyung Kim, but the team who conducted was tipped with the wrong information, and somehow the group was led to a Taehyung Kim who lived downtown two blocks down the police station, working for a production company.

Taehyung was in the process of sorting out his luggage for his work-related trip to Northern Europe tomorrow in the afternoon when a knock rings around his rather quiet apartment. He drops the pairs of socks he was sorting out in his bed and ruffles his hair, a habit he has long picked up.

“Taehyung Kim?” A man adorned in police uniform greets Taehyung on the other side of the door, accompanied by another one with the same outfit.

“Speaking. Is there something wrong?” He calms himself down. Taehyung has a habit of getting nervous around police and hearing sirens. He figures it was something he had developed from the past lifetimes.

“We need you to come to the precinct, sir. The chief and detective will further explain it for you.” The unnamed officer replies.

Taehyung has taken political classes in university. He knows his rights. He might have almost failed the class but he learned something. “Do you have an arrest warrant?” He eyes the folded paper tucked inside the palm of the other officer, who handed him what must be the arrest warrant.

Taehyung scans the paper for the important information that must be indicated in the arrest warrant for it to be valid. Taehyung deems it necessary to follow the officers to the police mobile that will escort him to the precinct.

“You already searched my apartment and myself for drugs and you did not see any. You did not have to bring me here.” He huffs as he was led to a room. Taehyung was sure this was a plot conducted by the police of the state to pin any people that they can. He has read the news before. He also thinks he watched too many movies.

“Please wait here until we get the chief and the defective down here. I also got Officer Bae to call your lawyer.” The officer inside the room with him informed him.

He hears faint foot steps outside the room, making him think that it was probably the chief and the said defective. Is this how life ends? He thinks. I haven’t seen Jeongguk yet.

“Is that the notorious Taehyung Kim?” A voice shot him out of his violent thoughts that includes him being killed.

“No I’m not.” He snaps, crossing his arms. “Although I get told I’m notorious for my looks so-“ He explains.

“Is Taehyung Kim there?” A voice cuts him out of his monologue.

“As I have said, not the one you’re trying to look for.” He rolls his eyes then searched for the man who called his name. His eyes land on the man stood in a black shirt and a black bomber jacket draped on top. In fact, the man is wearing all black, and all-

Jeongguk. His Jeongguk was standing in front of him, in the precinct. Inside the interrogation room.

“Right in front of you, Chief Lee, Detective Jeon.” One officer breaks silence.

“I will handle the interrogations.” Jeongguk turns to the chief, who then nodded and walked out of the room, together with the officer who was with Taehyung minutes ago.

Jeongguk waited for the tell-tale sound of the door locking. He knew they did not have much privacy, considering Chief Lee and Officer Yoo were staying on the other side of the room overhearing the whole interrogation, through the one-way mirror and the microphones installed in the room.

“You- you deal drugs?” Jeongguk asks, mouth agape and stuttering once they are out of ear-shot.

“What the fuck? No! I already told you! Listen- I have a flight to catch tomorrow you can’t detain me especially if I did not do anything.” He explains, his eyes have rolled too many times.

“How have you been?” Jeongguk asks once he was seated.

“I’m good, I guess, minus the fact that I was brought here on false accusations.” Taehyung rests his arms on the desk, and stares at Jeongguk. He remembers the last life time when the boy’s hair was a lighter shade of brown, but he supposes being borderline blonde would not be appropriate for a detective.

“You’re really not dealing drugs are you?” Jeongguk asks. He figures they were given the wrong information, buying the notorious group they have been trying to catch more time for all the illegal shit they have been doing.

“You know me, Jeongguk.” Taehyung’s reply hides much more than what its surface would imply. Jeongguk knows his Taehyung. Knows he haven’t even seen drugs up close. Minus the make shift ones they use in filming sets.

“Detective, there’s something you need to see.” A knock on a door signals the man who informed Jeongguk who gives Taehyung a knowing look and a pat on his arm before fleeting the room.

Taehyung sits back, head hanging back on the chair, and blows out the air. He curses the universe for plotting this lifetime for them. Seriously, can’t we meet at a supermarket or some simple shit? Taehyung grumbles.

He wishes for a retake on those lifetimes where he met Jeongguk at an early age living only two blocks away. That lifetime, Taehyung knew he needed to get a notebook or something that locks to protect his letters to Jeongguk from his sister who has naturally a kick for checking out things around the house that peaks her interest.

He also could not and would not forget the time they met at a very odd circumstance involving a table, heels and a very drunk Taehyung on his birthday, who was given a fucking stripper to grind on his lap. Who knew the stripper was a friend of a friend, one of the choreographers in the university dance team, clad in leather jacket and harness, looking like a walking bdsm.

Jeongguk never got to see the end of Taehyung throwing casual comments about that day or the suggestions that followed the main event, Jeongguk grinding on Taehyung wearing nothing but his pants and a choker, of a private show.

A door opening snatches Taehyung from the road he’s travelling that would get dirtier if he had not heard the door. Soon after Jeongguk returns to the room with the Chief. Jeongguk has a pissed expression on his features that Taehyung has always been familiar with. Jeongguk has a lot of patience in his body, even more so than Taehyung, so whatever has been biting his ass must have taken a toll on him.

“Taehyung. They have another Taehyung Kim in custody.” Jeongguk informs him.

“Taehyung Kim, born as William Blue Silvester, hiding under the pseudonym of the same name as yours, has been caught just in time before he leaves for a sanctuary he owns off the Mediterranean.” The Chief supplies information, dropping a folder containing probably the basic information of the said criminal in front of Taehyung. He looks at Jeongguk for more words but one look from the man says everything is well.

After another few minutes of apologies from the chief and Jeongguk himself, Taehyung, who was allowed to leave the establishment as he wished to do so, and Jeongguk was left to stand outside the room he was just in hours ago. The two watches Chief Lee and Officer Yoo turn a corner and left the two in privacy.

‘I’ve been waiting for you.” Jeongguk remarks.

“So you have not been looking for me?” Taehyung jokes, not meaning anything behind it. Jeongguk laughs, throwing his head back. Once he has composed himself he pulls Taehyung by his arm and wraps one around him, keeping him close. Taehyung relaxes under the calming breathing pattern he feels from Jeongguk, resting his chin on the other’s shoulder.

“Got my notebook?” Jeongguk asked above whisper, still hugging Taehyung close to him.

Taehyung hums, “Got a lot of catching up and reading to do, officer-“

“Detective.” Jeongguk corrects which Taehyung ignores as he pulled back.

“Also, pay for the pens I bought for it.” He tuts.

“You smell different in this lifetime.” He comments.

“Yeah. I learned I don’t have a sensitive nose nowadays so I took advantage. I can handle stronger scents.” Taehyung smiles, remembering the whole lifetime he spent with Jeongguk who can’t last a day without being too sensitive with dust and anything that his nose catches a whim of. They kept a whole 9-pack facial tissues around the house for the sake of his colds.

Jeongguk gently pulls him back to get a good look at Taehyung, who has been staring at him too closely. “Will I see you more often now?” Jeongguk asks, hopeful.

“I leave tomorrow for a work. I’ll come back after two weeks. We can meet then.” Taehyung replies.

“I see.” Jeongguk nodded, his features dimmed. “Give me your number.” He commands.

“Did you not have my whole profile and whole life filed in one of your cabinets?” Taehyung jokes.

“I don’t want to lose a job, so.” Jeongguk answers back, shrugging at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Jeongguk offers the latter a ride home. He learned that Taehyung is two years older than him in this lifetime, he still likes black bean noodles, and his new job that lets him travel approximately thirty times a year. Taehyung learns that Jeongguk’s family in his new life includes a father who was also a detective in his days, which inspired Jeongguk to follow his father’s footsteps, earning a degree and a well-deserved position in his current post.

“Okay, detective. Show me your new self when I get back.” Taehyung says, bobbing his head up and down absent-mindedly.

“That can be possible.” Jeongguk turns his whole upper body if the space in the front seat allows the two of them. “Tae.” He whispers, the older, looking expectantly at him. “Call me tomorrow before you leave.” He says, resting his arm on the other’s shoulders, arms almost wrapped around him. Before he can stop himself he plants a kiss on the older’s temple, too softly, Taehyung might not feel it (he did. His heart beat that picked up tells him so).

“You’ve been alive many times and you never learned how to ask nicely. Good bye, officer.” Taehyung calls out as he walks out of the car, not noticing Jeongguk was a beat faster than him and is walking behind him to his front door.

“Detective.” Jeongguk corrects.

“Same thing. You all detained me. I will have you know I memorized the bill of rights.” Taehyung replies from his door.

“Is that so? Quit your job, then, apply for the vacant position in our department.” Jeongguk chuckles.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I might pay more visit to your work when I get back.” He taps the code for his door, waiting for the beeping sound to signal that it’s unlocked. “Good night, officer.” He leans up slightly to plant a kiss on the corner of the younger’s mouth, not caring to wait for his response as he lets the door close behind him when he got inside.

“Detective.” Jeongguk corrects for the second or third time that night to no one in particular, facing the door that already signaled that it was locked again for the night.

That night Taehyung opens the journal he maintained that lifetime that he keeps for Jeongguk, a tradition. His first one was acquired when Jeongguk got him one that almost resembles a unicorn, with sequins designed to change between two colours when you run your fingers through them. The journal serves as the records to keep the other updated before they see each other again in each lifetime.

[unknown] 11:49 PM Call me tomorrow. - jeongguk

Officer Jeon 11:50 PM Please call me tomorrow.

Officer Jeon 11:51 PM Can I call you tomorrow?

Taehyung read the texts he received in succession, as he picked up from where he was disturbed from his activity and finished packing his luggage and other important things that needed to be in his hand carry for tomorrow. He made sure his bed is free from any other things he might forget before sitting down, already changed into pyjamas, and reads the text messages. He reads each of them, picturing the younger typing away on his phone, contemplating his words.

Taehyung 12:04 AM Hard bargain. I’ll try tho

Taehyung 12:05 AM Good night, Officer Jeon.

He rests his phone on under his pillow, with the part of the phone where the speaker should be out and would be strategically placed near his ear for his alarm for the next day. He does not get to read the other’s reply, and Jeongguk figures out the event for the night took a toll on him.

As promised, the two right after Taehyung got back from his work trip. The younger had been waiting outside his apartment, in his casual clothes. He was way past an hour earlier than Taehyung but the older did not need to know that.

Beat from his flight and his two-week long work overseas, the two decided to have their late lunch delivered and just stay in for the first hang out of the century (read: lifetime). The first thing that Jeongguk asks for his for his contact name in the older’s phone to be changed.

“What’s your passcode?” Jeongguk was in the middle of guessing the older’s password to change his contact name himself, but all the possible 4-pin code the older could have used failed to unlock his phone.

“You don’t know my passcode. You’re gonna have my phone-“ He almost snatches his phone from the younger’s grip when he saw what was displayed on his screen. “-disabled. See, fucking brat.” He huffs, snatching his phone anyway, although it’s useless now that his phone was disabled for five minutes. Jeongguk continues to laugh from his seat, watching the older unpack his clean clothes from his luggage.

“You got another person’s birthday as your passcode? You’ve changed, hyung.” He chides.

“Yeah, that’s why you wouldn’t know.” He bites back. Jeongguk also would not know that his password was 1978. His favorite meeting with the younger was in the gloomy day of January 9, 1978 when they met at a court room, intent on opposing the other, as their clients were having a feud over properties of a deceased relative. He knew he left the court room with a settled case and a new person in his mind. It was one of the lifetimes they have gone through together that was peaceful. They were happy. They left that life happy and content with each other.

“Ah, hyung, I want my journal now.” Jeongguk sits up from the bed where he was laying down beside Taehyung’s clean clothes.

“Award-winning authors don’t give free books that they worked hard for, Guk.” He teases, eyes not leaving his task.

“You would not know that, hyung, they do. Especially to their loved ones.” Jeongguk feigns, almost feeling like he was offended.

“And you’re saying is you are one of my loved ones.” Taehyung states, dreading the younger’s answer.

“Your only love, hyung.” Jeongguk says almost patronizing.

Mood: Giddy, Content, Betrayed (explanation attached below)

Dear Detective,

We met today. I do not appreciate being dragged out of my apartment in the middle of packing shit and detained just because your officers thought I would have the energy to trade drugs/ Also, who the fuck thinks Taehyung Kim was a good name to use as a drug lord? I have so much to ask you. I noticed the scar on your arm. You did not have that the last time I saw you.

I’m also wondering if it is against your work conduct if we use your cuffs for personal purposes? By the time you read this entry we probably have already used it. But it’s ok, not everyone is a good citizen.

fuck the police, your taehyung

“Fuck the police, hyung? Really?” Jeongguk reads, not wanting to believe what he just read. He only read some portions, that being the first page, one from the middle and the latest one, the one Taehyung wrote the night of chaos where they met in the interrogation room.

“You’re kink shaming me and I don’t like it.” Taehyung looks at him.

“Whatever hyung, I’m gonna read this when I get home. Who knows what kind of kink you developed when you were alone.” Jeongguk shifts so he can lay on his side, facing Taehyung.

“Says the one who has a kink for being called an officer. You probably fuck your one night stands with your costume still on.” Taehyung huffs.

“That whole sentence is just so wrong in many ways.” Jeongguk changes position again, almost ready to pound on Taehyung after his next offense. “First of all, I do not have an officer kink. Second, this is not a fucking costume. I don’t even have a police officer uniform. I’m a detective.” He huffs.

“But you did not deny fucking someone wearing a costume like one.” Taehyung replies after a beat of silence. Jeongguk stands from the bed, throwing Taehyung’s neatly folded clothes at him, Taehyung whining a ‘hey, fuck you’ at him.

faster than you could say the word bye.

Taehyung did not remember falling asleep to a vivid dream of the last time he and Jeongguk went to see the fireworks show near the amusement park in their past lifetime. He knows he suffered from motion sickness after Jeongguk dared him to go three times on the 360 degrees Vikings. In his defense, the younger promised him head if he did (he did). It seems like he only dreams of his past lifetimes with Jeongguk.

The two do not always win.

The universe has a unique way of telling them that the two of them are lucky enough that they get so each other in their next lifetimes. The universe tells them that humans get to be alone too. They were reminded that they have happiness not given off by the other. They have lives lived separately, sometimes because they were both strangers to each other. Sometimes the universe allows them to spend a lifetime with a person that is not Taehyung or Jeongguk.

Taehyung hates most of them.

The universe, according Taehyung and Jeongguk’s experiences, was a big stage, and they were the leads. The universe seems like it planned for the two to meet, and deems it necessary that that was enough.

One lifetime Taehyung remembered was the one where Taehyung was a nurse at the Asan Medical Center. He has not seen Jeongguk in this lifetime yet, and he hopes he sees him soon. He remembered the talk they had in one lifetime where Jeongguk told him how fun It would be to see the older work in a hospital. Taehyung was assigned to the Brain Trauma wing of the hospital. Taehyung works with Doctor Kim, who refers to as Seokjin when they are not dressed in operating gowns, and their uniforms and only a table full of kimchi, ramyeon and soju separates them and not an operating table, battling for the life of an individual wishing to live comfortable for an extended period of time.

He has been asked to do the rounds before Doctor Kim comes for his operation that evening and the hospital has been relatively quiet and peaceful at this time of the year, compared to last month of every year where more accidents happen and the hospital tends to be busy. He comes back to the nurse station just in time Doctor Kim was getting his coat on him and checking up on some files with the nurse stationed at the desk.

Taehyung believes he has already covered three rounds for other nurses in favor of assisting other Doctors. The hospital does not suffer from staff shortage, but Taehyung believes they need more hand or some nurses and other staff in the hospital should learn how to do their own job despite the circumstance.

“Taehyung, how is Ms. Moon doing?” Seokjin asks, going over the papers brought out for him.

“They should be fine and be good enough to not be cranky at everyone. They keep changing nurses to help them. Remind me to never let myself be called to the VIP ward.” He rants, scratching the back of his head involuntarily.

“Yeah, not the only one who complained. I’ll request for you to be assigned to this wing soon.” Seokjin laughs quietly.

The alarms from the emergency room and Taehyung’s beeper simultaneously alarmed him and Doctor Kim of a patient immediately in need of assistance coming in to the emergency room. The two runs without further ado, some nurses working for the trauma wing already getting a hold of the record of the said patient who Taehyung can see was bathed in his own blood and he wonders just how harsh the accident have been.

“His heart rate is not stable. The witnesses said he fell unconscious after his opponent landed a few harsh hits on his head.” One nurse informs, passing off the information gathered by the ambulance team who responded to the patient. Doctor Kim worked fast as he suggested for a fast x-ray and a CT scan for the patient.

“Get the operating room ready real fast I need to get to his brain immediately.” Doctor Kim chides, talking fast, trying to one up the fact that he might not be able to save the patient from the internal bleeding that is currently invading the young man. Taehyung quickly does as he was told, contacting the radiology and department to inform them of a patient in need of immediate assistance.

Taehyung could not clearly see the young man’s face, thanks to the harsh beating he took and a mouth guard recovered from him that Taehyung assumes that he is some sort of a professional fighter. Taehyung feels an uneasy fit in his stomach that he attempts to attribute to seeing another poor soul fight for his life unconsciously.

One nurse was gently but hurriedly, cleaning off the blood from the patient’s face, that almost dried as the time passed, as Doctor Kim gets a good look on the vitals of the patient. Right now he makes out a jet black color of hair matted with blood that ran down from a laceration.

Taehyung continues to aid Dr. Kim, informing him of the other specialists awaiting the patient and the operating room. Taehyung scrubs in to assist in the bloody and dragging operation of the patient. He assumes the uneasy feeling at the pit of his stomach and the patient lying helplessly that everything will be okay in the end. Things will be alright.

Things could not surpass the word ‘alright’ or any word that gives someone the comfort and assurance of a positive outcome. Things after the operation did not go quite well for the patient. The whole process was a success to some extent. The patient is alive.

But the patient is brain dead.

Dr. Kim blames himself for not being fast enough to get to his brain. The doctor takes off the scrub adorning him as he made his way out of the operating room, about to inform the people waiting for the fate of the patient with a heavy heart. Taehyung pushes down the lump in his throat and the tears that was threatening to spill out of the corner of his eyes as he assists the recovery team with the patient.

He did another rounds for the midnight shift, forcing himself to take his mind off a certain private room that seems to have it out for him, calling him and urging him to just drop everything and go there. His rounds ended with a final stop at the station, greeted by another nurse working the night shift.

“Taehyung, you’re way past over your shift already.” Nurse Kang, a close friend who he worked with for a year now, grabs him out of his internal monologue, ever so gently with her gentle voice.

“I just have another patient I need to check. Pass me the records for the patient in room 507?” He gives a tight lip smile, receiving the records for the brain dead patient from the afternoon. He turns the corner and locates the private room, knocks and enters to see an unmoving patient from the center of the room, multiple wires holding on to keep him as stable as they can get him.

He stands on the right side of the hospital bed, watches the rise of the chest of the patient before checking his vitals. He makes sure to keep them in mind and a mental note to keep an eye on the patient. He checks on the bandages that were also wrapped on the poor man’s ribs, having his fractured from an aggressive attack from his opponent.

Taehyung releases a heavy sigh that would be deemed as out of stress or annoyance if this patient would just be awake at this moment and not be in the waiting room for dead people, technically, with his current state.

“Jungkookie, was it a good fight?” He whispers, as if speaking loud would suddenly wake the patient up and startle him. If only.

“Did you last for how many rounds?” He adds. “I’m working in a hospital now. Did you plan for me to work in a hospital just so I can help stitch your ass back and see your brain? Sounds just like you.” He looks down on the Jungkook’s limp hand from his side and holds it gently, without lifting it up. Just gently caressing the back of his hands.

“I’m not going to fool myself and think that you will move your fingers while I’m here and suddenly be awake. I’m sure you know your chance of being alive after your operation is 70/30. I’m happy you were sent to this hospital. I can’t stay too long here. I’ll be back for you in the morning.” He stands up, wiping the tears that made their way past his lids, tucking Jungkook better under the blankets, making sure all is well, as they can be.

The next morning greets Taehyung with a sun high in the sky and the darkness of the night in his heart. He cried. He cried, called Jimin for an emergency, who understood and rushed home from his work at the local boulangerie downtown that he owns with Yoongi. He cried, wrapped inside Jimin’s arms that cannot seem to guard him from the pain.

Because he can’t. Especially if the pain comes from the inside.

He doesn’t get better. But at some point he got stable enough to tell Jimin a part of the whole story, at least from this lifetime alone, but he briefly explains things from the last and the other ones. The ones where they met at a better circumstance and ones kind of similar to this one. He had Jimin call off work for him, and tell his Seokjin hyung to talk to him some time after today. Jimin does not understand the whole thing. But he tells Taehyung he knows. Just from the tears that escaped him, leaving him, trailing behind the man who caused them to fall.

That night he assures Jimin that he can be left alone, who put up a gentle argument with Yoongi siding with him. The two won, insisting that they at least wait for him to be asleep and deep into it enough to not be awake in the middle of the night, breaking down and alone.

He does wake up at some point near four in the morning, the journal he kept for Jungkook lay atop of the comforter covering his thighs, pen in hand.

Mood: [unknown] My Jungkook,

Can I call you that in this lifetime? It seems like I failed to do so. In the thirty-two hours that I have met you. Can I claim you? I would like to believe so. We promised we always have each other. Always for each other. Even if the universe won’t allow us. I’m yours.

I visited you in your room and told you that I’ll see you in the morning. I guess it’s too painful to hold on and wait for me. I understand. I have many questions for the two of us. Do you think if I became a doctor instead I would have saved you? In my defense, the last time you did not specify if you wanted me to be a doctor or a nurse. You should have been more specific. I could have been a security guard at some point.

I’m trying to convince myself that it’s okay. We can’t be happy in all lifetimes. I believe I’ll meet you in another life anyway. Like we always do.

See you soon, Taehyung

kensaku.

There have been times wherein the universe is on their side. But having sides does not provide luck for the two. Jeongguk and Taehyung remembered the lifetime wherein technically, they did not see each other. Jeongguk claims they did, though. Up to this day, Taehyung still gets livid every time he was reminded of all his efforts. Jeongguk calms him down saying;

“Hyung, it shows how much you miss me and love me, isn’t that great?” Which earns Jeongguk a smack to the back of his head, quite painful. Taehyung does not appreciate working up a sweat in that lifetime.

Taehyung slams the journal on the counter top in favor of fetching himself a glass of milk from the fridge, letting the journal smack against the thick wooded material and the pen to bounce off the top and roll to the side. He downs half of the milk before settling down on the table, opening the journal to where he bookmarked it with the pen, although it was no help since he decided to slam it and let the pen loose its place between the sheets.

Mood: Bored, Livid, Impatient, Alone.

Jeongguk,

where the fuck are you? I haven’t seen even an inch of your hair or a gross particle that came from the sole of your foot in this lifetime. It has been twenty-three years. Twenty-three years of waiting for you. My family in this lifetime were nice people. I remembered you and our promise to each other when I was ten years old. The next year, I said it was okay, it has only been ten years, you were probably just eight years old at that time. But now I assumed you were twenty-one, you can now walk and find me if you wish. Sometimes the thought that you got tired of looking for me in the lifetimes we can remember each other and waiting for me in the lifetimes we can’t.

I’ll wait for you in all lifetimes and love you in all of them, Taehyung

RE: Mood: Bored, Livid, Impatient, Alone.

I’m {THIS} close to putting up a sign just to find you. I think it will go like this:

Lost other half: JEON JEONGGUK Return to: KIM TAEHYUNG REWARD: negotiable

Jimin said he’d help me design the posters and he’d even use your favorite color for it. I told him about you already since you annoy me I might combust if I keep them all to myself. He even said he’d have Namjoon hyung beat you up when you finally show up. After introductions, of course. At least get on first name basis.

fucking tired of your shit, Taehyung

“Is that your fourth journal? That’s tragic, Taehyung” Yoongi extends his neck from where he’s on the sofa, to Taehyung’s place on the floor, in favor of using the table to write on, beside Yoongi’s disgusting feet propped up on it (Taehyung’s words).

“These journals only got eighty sheets per pad.” He bites back, slapping Yoongi’s toes away from the edge of the journal.

“That’s three hundred and counting notes for Jungkook. Calm the fuck down.” Yoongi explains, almost pouting.

“Shut up math daddy.” Taehyung grumbles and closes the journal, making sure to make it look like he’s done with writing and Yoongi’s bullshit.

“Taehyungie, I’ve come bearing gifts for your majesty, great king, ruler of Armageddon, Lord Farquaad, Daughter of Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazon, The God K-“ Jimin opens the unlocked door to the house, with his infamous line that they have had arguments over before because,

“They came from different scripts. You cannot be Lord Farquaad and recite Wonder Woman at the same time, Jimin.” That day Jimin shrieked out a loud “I do what I fucking want.” That made the neighbor check up on them, with Jimin screaming bloody murder.

A Vietnamese take out, a round of beer cans later, the four people in the apartment, with Namjoon arriving hours later with crumpled shirt and a stain Taehyung did not want to know much about, Jimin was able to do a rough photoshop of a wanted poster for Taehyung’s soulmate minus a picture that would really help them identify the man.

Jimin rant on and on about how Taehyung is really being selfish with not giving a photo of the certain man they were looking for. “I’m just saying, honestly, the odds of sixty Jeon Jeongguk can show up at this door once we post this outside. None of them would be your soulmate because his bitch ass of other half claims that no photo is in his possession.” He explains, complete with gestures and booming voice.

“He would not appreciate having his face plastered all over the city like that. I know him.” He explains exasperatedly. “Plus, you wouldn’t get the photos we kept both in soft and printed ones and our polaroid print outs are nudes. Not exactly appropriate to be plastered around the state.” He adds, fishing off the last pieces of fish crackers from the paper bag. Yoongi makes a face that screams disgust and Namjoon gives a knowing look and Jimin throws the tablet pen, almost missing his forehead.

“I thought I was going to fucking die as an old man, Jeongguk, that alone was terrible. But none of it would top the fucking stress you gave me looking for you.” Taehyung grumbles. Hoseok watches from his seat the banter between the two. He was pretty sure they had it before, already.

The movie they were watching was still playing, but the volume was being turned down little by little until it was borderline on mute, save for the occasional bass that hits the walls. They were having an unplanned movie night, since Jeongguk just got back from a work teambuilding for the weekend and everyone in the group chat got the word that Taehyung and Jin were having a planned stay in.

Jin was currently in the kitchen with Hoseok, preparing for another round of bottles of soju for everyone and the cup noodles left in the apartment.

The argument, one they have had before, started when Jeongguk started poking on Taehyung and played the ‘remember’ card. The others have been informed on what goes on between the two, including the whole context which they were having an argument over at the moment. The argument escalated when Jeongguk became specific and took jabs at Taehyung. In his defense, his flirting mechanism with his boyfriend was quite different than what usual couples do.

No, he was borderline bringing up a past that annoys the fuck out of Taehyung. Jeongguk knows it gets him frustrated and admittedly embarrassed (although Taehyung would not admit that). Now the two were still pressed up against each other, bickering with the occasional smacks and light slaps for each other.

“It’s not my fault I was fucking reincarnated as a dog, hyung. And don’t think I have forgiven you for naming me Yeontan.” Jeongguk huffs.

“Yeontan is cute, mind you.”

“Do I look like someone who deserved to be named Yeontan?”

“As if Gureum was a good ass name, Jeongguk, really, good job!” And wow, Taehyung really has it out for Jeongguk’s dog back in 2003.

“Gureum suits my fucking dog.”

“I called you Yeontan because Yeontan was brown and you look like fucking shit.” Taehyung slaps him with a pillow before standing up to barge into the kitchen where Hoseok took refuge in, away from the couple and into Seokjin’s comfort.

“Whatever, you just admitted your dog looks like shit but with fur.” Jeongguk speaks, pouting, making his words almost a murmur to himself.

“That dog was you, asshole.” Taehyung shouts from the kitchen, having heard Jeongguk.

Jeongguk whips his head towards the kitchen, muting the movie once and for all to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend’s ranting to the people who escaped the chaotic living room in hopes of not hearing the infamous story for the tenth time.

That night, trapped between the walls of their bedroom, Jeongguk coaxes Taehyung, begging for forgiveness that Taehyung refuses to give just yet. He was basking in the love and affection Jeongguk was giving him just for the older to give him attention. He already used different tricks. He made promises and he also resorted to using other stories from the past.

“Hyung, hyung.” He taps the older, who refused to face him in his sleep, opting to sleep on his other side that Jeongguk knows be uncomfortable enough and Taehyung would wake up with a sore right side.

“I’m sleeping.” Taehyung’s reply was short.

“No you’re not. Listen, for what it’s worth, we still met.”

“Shut the fuck up, Jeongguk.”

“The thing is you looked for me. I love you.” He kissed the older on the cheeks, since the older refused to turn. He thinks staying up all night and beg for forgiveness while the older is already in deep sleep would do him no good. Staying up won’t grant him immediate forgiveness.

Taehyung was being really ruthless, in Jeongguk’s opinion. It was when he was on the brink of falling asleep, his mind already hazy and body heavy, he hears his Taehyung speak.

“Fucking brat, I love you.” Taehyung huffs, before shifting to lay on his stomach, head turned towards Jeongguk.

[end] see other works here

[skgway]

1824 Aug., Sat. 28

6 3/4

3 20/60

From 8 10/60 to 9 10/60 took a stroll along Coventry Street, Halfhide and Co., No. 7. Will cut me a seal with a motto e.g. a violet under a hedge with the motto il faut me chercher, for a guinea. Cutting my arms would be 3 guineas – 

Then strolled along the Haymarket Jermyn Street., Regent Street to the end of Pall-Mall, thro’ St. James Square home – Sauntering leisurely turning up and down to look about me – Breakfast at 9 1/2 – went out at 10 10/60 – 

Mr. Webb went with me to shew me the Jews’ synagogue (Danemark Court, Exeter Street Strand) – Went thro’ Leicester Square – 1/4 hour at the synagogue – Much disappointed – A dirty shabby place, yet they say, quite as good as that in Duke’s place near Houndsditch – But it seems, their grand place, where the tabernacle is, is in the minories – the Jew do not like to admit strangers – Cordingley met us just come out of the chapel (I had sent her at 9 to Mr. Truefitt to take a lesson in hair dressing) – 

Went to the sitting magistrate Hatton garden – Only 2 magistrates there this morning (got there at about 11), the one Mr. Flower, the other (the most gentlemanly) who behaved to me so like a gentleman yesterday – 5 40/60 p.m. Interrupted here by dinner – 

Mr. Webb soon brought up a roast leg of mutton and a newspaper asking me if I would like to look at it – I casually answered yes! He said there was business at Hatton Garden in it – He had never thought of its getting into the papers, and now it would be in them all – ‘Ah!’ said I, ‘the thought and fear of it just struck me last night – I am very sorry for it’ – It was the Times newspaper of today – 

The whole thing very fairly put in – At the moment I felt mortified and annoyed at the idea of what a quiz it would be against me – Mr. Webbe saw this, which was probably more than he expected – I soon, however, grew reconciled as I always do, and told Mr. Webb when he came in again I could not help laughing at the thing, and did not know before that I was like a foreigner – “a lady whose habiliments and address bespoke her of foreign extraction” – 

Told Mr. Webbe, if my uncle saw, it would a laugh against me forever – The truth was, I thought first of the Saltmarshes and that it would be in everybody's mouth at Halifax – 

But to return to my this morning’s visit in Hatton garden – I walked in to the magistrates room – It seems, by the newspaper, Mr. Rogers was the 3rd magistrate yesterday and Mr. Laing the gentlemanly man to whom I felt most obliged – 

I bowed and told him I had brought Mr. Webb – Mr. Laing appeared to smile, just said if I would give my name and address the permission should be granted – I asked if my name would not be sufficient. On his answering, ‘No!’ They were obliged to be particular whom they admitted – only to admit ladies and gents – Immediately wrote Miss Lister Shibden Hall Yorkshire, and Mr. Laing desired a clerk to write an order for me and my servant Elizabeth Wilkes Cordingley and Mr. Webb to see the tread-mill and the interior – I bowed, said I was much obliged the the gents, and retired – 

The order procured us instant admittance, the utmost civility, and a sight of the whole interior – I asked the matron (a very nice woman who shewed the womens’ apartments, if she often shewed them – She said yes! But it required a particular order from the magistrates – And that this order (by which we were admitted), must have been a very particular one – 

A most gratifying sight to see the prison so clean, and healthy, and orderly, and altogether in such excellent discipline – About 250 men and women and children – The men and women have 1 1/4 lb. bread a day, a pot (would hold a quart, I think at least) of gruel a day, and 6 oz. of meat every other day, and on the intermediate days, soup made of what the meat (beef, I understood) was boiled thickened with oatmeal and vegetables – 

The women far worse to manage then the men – The matron would have less trouble with 500 men than 10 women – The young women (in their teens) the worst – And the man told us, the boys were much worse than the men – He thought there was more vice among them then any set of people – 

8 20/60. I have just had Mr. Webb who came with the Courier newspaper (a little different from the Times, not less civil to me) and begged to say, he thought perhaps I had best write something in reply – Had best write a handsome letter to the editor of which paper I chose (I preferred the Courier) – I shall think of this a few minutes – 

Began to write some – Buckley came with my pelisse – It does not fit at all – A great deal too large – Then the person from Waller’s brought my stays – Luckily, these do very well – At last, at 10 1/2 sat down and finished (altered the whole style of what I had written before) the following:

 “To the editor of the Courier – 

Sir – I have this moment read in your paper of today, the account of my applying yesterday to the magistrates of Hatton Garden for permission to see the treadmill at Cold Bath-Fields prison – I am surprised and sorry to find myself so unexpectedly intruded on the valuable space of your paper, having been perfectly thoughtless that so unimportant a circumstance could have been deemed worthy of notice; but since the matter has been made public, I feel desired that my motive should be divested of the “scientific” nature to which it has been attributed, and reduced to the simple wish of examining for myself the merits or demerits of the tread-mill. 

I beg to express my thanks to the magistrates for their order of admission, which procured me not only access to the whole interior of the building, but the most obliging civility and attention from the matron and other attendants, on whom the apparent health and civil manners of the prisoners, and the perfect neatness and cleanliness of all the rooms, reflect the highest credit – 

I cannot help feeling persuaded from the case with which all the prisoners, male and female, seemed to perform the exercise of the tread-mill, as well as from the short trial I myself made of it, that the labor is not so excessive as it has been represented, nor by any means so great as that daily undergone by a large portion of the lower classes of society – 

If this determination never to condemn even in my own mind (for I presume not beyond this) any institution sanctioned by the proper authorities of my country, till I have taken all the pains in my power to procure the best possible information on the subject, – 

If such a determination, tho’ however in the present case too hastily or ignorantly pursued, can at all excuse the singularity and perhaps informality of my application to the magistrates, I shall be much obliged to you to insert this letter in your next paper, and am Sir, your honourable servant A. Lister”–

Sent for Mr. Webbe – read him the above – He thought nothing could be better and was for my sending it – But I had determined to let the matter rest, and merely wrote this, that he might not think I could not do it – 

Told him I should not like the notoriety of the thing – Should bring John Bull upon myself, etc. etc. and should be absent into the bargain, etc. and Mr. Webbe finished by agreeing I was right, tho’ I plainly saw he would have liked the notice into which I should probably bring myself – 

I told [him] I could bring myself into notice any time, but it would not suit me now. John Bull would sift out everything. And my uncle, tho of an old family and good fortune, did not live in that style, would bear me out at present as I should wish – 

But to return once more to the morning – After leaving the prison Mr. Webbe walked with us in search of South Crescent (Alfred Place Tottenham Court road) – It seemed a pretty long walk thro’ Brandenburgh, n! Mecklenburgh Squares, and thro’ an abundance of new streets –

Knocked at home 3 in the crescent – Asked for a wrong person, merely to find out that Mr. James Vallance lived there – A dirty woman servant came to the door – A simple house, like all the rest in the crescent – 4 stories high including the cellar kitchens – But I think the V– [Vallance]’s must be a vulgarish set – 

Returned by the Soho bazar – Mr. Webbe shewed us all over it – Got home at 2 – Thanked Mr. W– [Webb] for his civility – The poor man had spoken most handsomely of his wife, and seemed to like to talk of her – He seems impressed with a considerable of my talents, and importance, physical strength, walking, riding, etc. etc. 

Asked him about the expense of living in London – or of having lodgings or being at an hotel – He thought I could keep myself a maid and 2 men at an hotel very handsomely for 3 guineas a day, and a couple of horses would cost me a guinea a week each at livery – 

My cloth boots pinched me – Changed them and went out again directly – Took Cordingley to shew her the Burlington Arcade and Western Exchange bazar – Then sent her home – 

Sauntered slowly along myself to 166 Strand, and bought (at Dobson’s) a self-pointing pencil – Did npot much like the manners of the man, but found his pencil 3 /. [shillings] cheaper than in the Exeter change [Exeter Exchange], where I bought a small mariner’s compass in a brass case 4 /. [shillings] – 

Then sauntered all along Regent Street and Portland Place, and Park Crescent across the new road a little way into the Park – The entrance paris style portico and steeple of all souls church at the far end of Regent Street very beautiful – The circle not quite finished – Regent Street and the tout ensemble Portland Place, etc. magnificent – 

Met with a seal cutter No. 260 who would cut a fancy seal (a violet and il faut me chercher) for about 12 /. [shillings], ladies’ arms 1 1/2 guineas, gentlemans 2 guineas, without a motto, and 2 1/2 with one – Silvester No. 27 Strand would charge 18 /. [shillings] for the fancy seal, 2 guineas for a lady’s arms, and 2 1/2 for a gentlemans – Cheaper than Halfhide – 

Got home at 5 20/60 – Washing my hands, etc. Dinner at 5 40/60 – The occupations of the evening are given out of their place – Above – Very fine day – E [one dot, treating venereal complaint] O [no dots, marking discharge]. 

Settl[ed my accounts (sent Cordingley to bed at 11) and went to my room at 12 40/60. Then packed, which took me till 2 3/4 –

[More About Coldbath Fields Prison]

In the Mount Pleasant area of Clerkenwell, London the prison was originally run by magistrates and housed prisoners on short sentences of up to two years, and also served as a debtor's prison. It took its name from Cold Bath Spring, a medicinal spring discovered in 1697. The prison housed men, women and children until 1850, when the women and children moved to Tothill Fields Bridewell, leaving only male offenders over the age of 17. Despite its aspirations to be more humanitarian, it became notorious for its strict regime of silence and its use of the treadmill.

"Prisoners Working At The Tread-wheel, And Others Exercising, In The 3rd Yard Of The Vagrants' Prison, Coldbath Fields" from "The criminal prisons of London, and scenes of prison life (1864) by Henry Mayhew & John Binny.

Another image from “The criminal prisons of London, and scenes of prison life” (1864) by Henry Mayhew & John Binny. The main felons block is on the left, the vagrants block was the "half cartwheel" bottom left, the misdemeanants block centre right. More details are on the accompanying plan File:coldbath-fields-plan-mayhew-p283.jpg

Extract from London Courier and Evening Gazette, Saturday 28 August 1824, shared by Moira Macdonald with The Real Anne Lister blog.

[murobrown]

I was tagged by @dangerous-lithium-animals , thank you a lot Jessi :) ♥ 

What was the last thing you read?  It was this swedish book called “Rit”. It was for my reading class and it was pretty nice, more like a collection of novels. Some of them were so weird and hard to understand but most of them were interesting 

Favorite movie? Submarine, Boyhood, Magnolia...first three that I thought about, there are many many more. And Once Upon A Time In Hollywood immediately become my favorite 

Favorite book? Burnt Child by Stig Dagerman

Dream Date? No idea, I never been on one. I imagine something chilled and not too fancy. Maybe just taking a walk and grabbing some food or drink. Cinema can be nice too

Do you have a crush? Yes, on every single boy I have ever seen ♥ 

What are your hobbies? Music, movies, cooking, cleaning

What is your favorite time of day? I am not sure if I have one. It depends on my mood and on actual day. Sometimes I like mornings sometimes evenings and sometimes late night. 

If you could look like anything, what would you look like? I would like to be little bit taller and very much skinnier. Change a lot of things about my face, give myself normal hair....I just want to look nothing like I look rn

Are you romantic? I don’t know, I never had an opportunity to discover those things about myself. I don’t even know what should I imagine under “romantic”....

What’s your favorite type of weather? Chilly weather but I also like sunny spring days. And I love snow too! 

What do you like talking about? Depends on the person and situation but most of the time it’s music, movies, shared memories, emotions...I love deep conversations with right person 

What are your turn ons? Confidence, kind heart, good taste in music (musicians overall, doesn’t matter if you play guitar or trombone...I’m in love), being nice to animals

Turn offs? Aggressivity, arrogance, spitting on the ground, beards 

If you got a tattoo what would it be and where would you get it? I’ve been wanting a tattoo for so long!!! I told myself that I get one once I get my bachelor’s degree. I’d like to get something small related to my cat. Somewhere on my hand, like wrist

Do you have any pets?  Yes :) A cat named Muro

Dream job?  My current job = working at cat café :)))

Dream place to live? I don’t know. I wouldn’t mind living in my hometown my whole life. Anything else sounds too unrealistic. But dream place would be somewhere in England for sure!

Dream vacation? Manchester or Liverpool, anywhere in Scandinavia, I’d love to go to Vienna once again

Do you have any piercings? Do earrings count? Otherwise none and I don’t feel the need to get anything else 

If you had kids what would you name them? I don’t ever want to have kids. But I like Oliver or Silvester for boy and Stella for girl 

What are your best traits? My taste in music 

Worsts traits? I am very ugly and fat, very quiet and shy, I think too much, I am very very LAZY, I am awkward, I can be very annoying, I am too emotional and I am scared of everything 24/7

What’s your worst fear? Being called mean or unkind, any confrontation with other people but also sharks, snakes, sea, heights, fire, darkness and DOCTORS

What do you want to eat right now? Hmmm just finished my breakfast so I am not that hungry but I’d always go for pizza

What’s your best vacation you’ve ever been on? I was on vacation only once really. It was like 8 years ago in Croatia, it was pretty nice, but one week was too much for me 

Favorite city?  My hometown Martin :) 

Favorite social media platform? I don’t really have any other social medias besides Tumblr (I don’t count Facebook)...but Reddit is fun too!

Favorite article of clothing? My blue and white Adidas Spezials 

Do you play sports? No not really, only sometimes badminton or football in the summer with friends or family. Nothing professional

Favorite meal of the day? Lunch? Sometimes dinner...sometimes breakfast. It depends what I’m cooking hah

What are you excited for? I don’t know...nothing really

Not excited for? Waking up and living this life every single day

When was the last time you cried? Last night hahaha 

Dream House? I don’t want house. I want apartment. It would have kitchen joined togehter with living room. I want a brick wall black leather sofa and big vinyl collection with stereo in my living room. Then I want black and white bathroom with huge shower. And I want balcony

What’s something you hate about the world? Myslef ♥ And other bad people

What’s something you love about the world? Animals, most of people I know, all the good music, all the nice nature, all the art that is out there

What scents do you like? Green tea, lavender, sandalwood

What kind of sleeper are you? I don’t know. Normal I guess? It depends...sometimes it takes me three hours to fall asleep sometimes three minutes. But I am not that much of a heavy sleeper 

Are you a cat or dog person? If this means introverted or extroverted then I’m introverted. But I love cats and dogs equally ♥ 

How long would you survive in the zombie apocalypse? Not a single day on my own. If I’d had someone to protect me I’d survive little bit longer but they would kill me because I’d be useless and annoying haha 

Are you trusting? Yes most of the time, but it depends on the preson. I need to know you before I can really trust you

What fictional character do you identify with? I really don’t know...

What labels do you usually get? Small/short, kind, positive and my classmate called me weird yesterday

What song would be your life anthem? Girl In A Dirty Shirt - Oasis

What issues are you dealing with right now? Trying not to kill myslef and dealing with this person who had feelings for me but I am not able to have those feelings for him back so I feel like the biggest asshole in the world

How can someone win you over? It’s not too hard, just be nice. I am not complicated at all

What’s something about you people don’t know? I don’t know if there’s anything I want to share like this haha. If people don’t know it I probably like it that way...But I was born one month earlier when I was a kid. I was really tiny and nearly died and they had to put me in the incubator for some time to keep me alive. My mum loves to remind me this hah 

I am sorry that this is SO long haha!  I am not tagging anyone, but anyone can feel free to do this :) 

[iknowyoubutyoudontknow]

Silvester with them

Request: How is Silvester/New year with Assassin's/Templars?

Info: Request OPEN

Note: I hope all ya' had a great Christmas and a happy new year, I know I said to a few of you to update on Wednesday but my grandfather fell ill, so my mother want to visit him =n= gomene.

Thanks for the request, lad/lass!

Altaïr:

He isn't a man of celebrities, but since you practically begged to celebrate new year with him he eventually gave in. The first time Altaïr watches firework explode was kinda scary for him because you hadn't told him how loud it was, thought his face was absolutely worth it. So in the end it was a little cat and mouse game, you being the mouse and him being the cat, with firecrackers..

Connor:

Connor was absolutely terrified, you had to assure him that (if you do it right) no one is going to get harmed. Still he wasn't a big fan of it, especially when he saw that the most people don't collect their rubbish in the next few days and what it does to the nature. You have come to the compromise that you are allowed to celebrate with fireworks and firecrackers but you have to collect your rubbish the next day.

Edward:

You didn't really need to say anything to convince him to celebrate with you, just the word "fire" got him. Edward was so exited, if it weren't for your sleep he would be the whole night outside and celebrated, he acted like a child that need a supervisor. And you felt like you couldn't took your eyes off him without fearing that he injures himself or burns the house down. Short, Silvester was like taking care of a moody child with him.

Ezio:

The Italian doesn't really understood the concept, still he celebrated with you, just to see how your eyes shine in the sparkling, colourful, light. Both of you didn't need to say much this day, this day was for you, just for you. You two didn't plan anything or invited friends over, the whole day was just how it would come, to calm down and relax. Well, you two mostly cuddle in the evening and watch the fireworks, with little kisses and a lot of affection.

Evie:

Your wife didn't really wanted to celebrate, so you didn't. For once both of you just wanted to be with the other one, without having something to do. So this was one of the rare days where Evie shows her overly affectionate side, a lovely day for two little love birds, as you put it. Both of you practically shower each other in affection, like a couple should do, and forgot the stress of work.

Haytham:

A men of tradition you celebrated. A little walk in the park or just some sitting outside are definitely going to happen, you could say Haytham is quite a little charmeur. His whole attention lays upon you, a whole day, it was like you were a enchanted rose and the young Eagle was caught in your spell. Starting fireworks in the middle of the night and watching them explode as he holds you in his arms with his head on your (own/shoulder).

Jacob:

Actually HE was the one who asked you to celebrate with him, even to go shopping for firecrackers. Jacobs eyes sparkled all the way, like a little child that got their favorite sweets. All in one you were a little scared to give him a lighter, you knew that he liked to mess around with almost everything. So, before you even let him alone with things that can explode, you gave him a little rant what he can do and what not, like every year.

Shay:

Shay didn't really like to celebrate.. Normal, so you both often go out for a few drinks, that normally makes your whole day because you need to watch over a drunken Irish men. It actually surprised you that he's scared of exploding firework when he's drunk, still it's kinda cute in your eyes. Not just that, but you also had new fact to annoy and tease him with, so why would you want to change it?

[bored-but-hopeful]

12/17/19

This will be the third silvester in a row that I will be spending alone at home.

I actually had plans with friends but in the end it didn’t work out like always. Idk I feel kind of lonely. I used to love this time of the year because my whole family would be together pretty much every other day

But now I can’t wait for this to be over. Everyone seems so happy to be with their families and it makes me sick of jealousy

[horpyna]

the song is called "Щедрик(Shchedryk)" which comes from the word "щедрий", "generous" in ukrainian. It is a song from the canlendar cycle. It is not about Jesus's birth because it's a song for a completely different purpose. Ukrainians would walk from home to home and sing this songs called "щедрівки (shchedryvkas)" to wish luck, wealth, good harvests and prosperity to the owners. This process (or a ritual if you will) is called "щедрування(shchedruvannya)".

The original song very much goes about a swallow, that wishes more money and goods to the owners of the household, pointing out the fine lambs that were born in their flock.

The song is now associated with Christmas across the world, but shchdryvkas (thus Shchedryk) are usually sung for New Year, in the evening of the December 31 (January 12 old style). This evening is called "Щедрий вечір(Shchedryi vechir)" – literally translated as "the Generouse evening", or Silvester. It's festive and theatrical.

Shchedruvannya live looks like this:

For Christmas, there is a different kind of the calendar cycle songs – "колядки(kolyadkas)". Those are explicitly about Jesus's birth, Mother Mary, Three Kings and The Beacon. The name itself originetes from the pagan fest "Коляда(Kolyada)", which celebrated the birth of the God of the New Sun. The Goddess Kolyada would give birth to the New Sun, after the Old Sun ends it's cycle on the day of Winter Solstice. Kolyadkas would essentially praise the Goddess and her newborn son. After the Christianisation, kolyadkas morphed to praise mother Mary and Jesus Christ, but the name remained unchanged.

Kolyadkas are also sung for households by local youth, "колядники(the kolyadnyks)". The kolyadnyks would go from home to home and sing kolyadkas in exchange for sweets, backed goods, money or other items. The whole process is called "колядування (kolyaduvannya)". They are dressed festivly, carrying a gloving beacon and small verteps (nativity scene).

Kolyadkas are sung in the evening of the December 24 (January 6 old style). This evening is called "Святвечір(Svyatvechir)" or "Святий вечір (Svyatyi vechir)", which is translated literally as the Saint Evening, or Christmas Eve.

(Though they ask for goods during "щедрування(shchedruvannya)" as well. Sometimes this request are directly in the lyrics or the shchedryvkas. Ukrainians have this joke "Turn off the lights, the kolyadnyks/shchedruvalnyks are coming!")

Here is how it looks nowadays.

Shchedryk itself is a folk sond, arranged by the ukrainian composer Mykola Leontovych. Thus the music of the Carol of the Bells is also his. It is an important piece of ukrainian art, as Leontovych himself was murdered in cold blood by the undercover NKVD agent in the wave of repressions against the ukrainian artistic intelligentsia. He pretended to be a passerby who needed a shelter, and Leontovych let him in to stay overnight. NKVD agent shot him in his sleep. All his compositions were destroyed. The fact that Shchedryk survived is a miracle. People began to acknowledge Leontovych as the original author of the music only in the recent years.

In the US Shchedryk was adapted as an English Christmas carol, "Carol of the Bells", by american composer Peter J. Wilhousky, in 1936. But earlier the original Shchedryk was performed abroad by Alexander Koshetz's Ukrainian National Chorus.

Here is Schchedryk's literal translation to English:

And here are the kolyadkas, unfortunately in ukrainian only:

Only good thing about Christmas time is I get to hear carol of the bells all the time but the bad part is I have to act normal like that song doesn’t go hard as fuck