#patron saints of London
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Part of a pilgrim badge from the shrine of St Thomas Becket at Canterbury Cathedral. This badge depicts part of the scene of Thomas Becket returning from exile in France and refers to his journey from Sandwich to Canterbury on horseback. All that remains of this badge is Becket’s dappled horse and the lower part of Becket’s body. Becket’s cloak hangs in folds across the saddle and his right leg is stretched out straight ahead. He wears pointed shoes.
Thomas Becket was born in London in 1118. He became a royal official and a great friend of King Henry II. He was made Archbishop of Canterbury in 1162. He argued with King Henry II, and fled to France in 1164. Thomas Becket returned to Canterbury in 1170 and was killed in the cathedral by four knights who thought this would please the king. People were outraged at the murder of an archbishop on holy ground and Becket was made a saint. He became one of the patron saints of London. Many Londoners travelled to Canterbury to pray at the shrine there and bought badges and ampullae (small bottles for holy water) as souvenirs of their pilgrimage.
Late Medieval; late 14th century
#St Thomas Becket#Late Medieval#late 14th century#pilgrim badge#patron saints of London#patron saint#museum of london
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Dragon
In this panel, Saint Margaret is being swallowed by a dragon and then miraculously bursting out of its stomach. This story led to Margaret becoming the patron saint of childbirth
by Margarito d'Arezzo
#found#art#london#byzantine#Byzantine art#dragons#dragon#saint Margaret#patron saint#patron saint of childbirth#Margarito d'Arezzo#Tuscan art#Tuscany#religious art#christian art#icons
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You broke the heads of Leviathan in pieces, and gave him as food to the people inhabiting the wilderness.
#fallen london#fallen london oc#failbetter games#myart#elleryhart#he's a monster hunter#the caption is Psalms 74:14 which is the one from the text#alternate title is Patron Saint of Underdogs#if you saw this a couple of minutes ago no you didn't i fucked a couple of layer orders before export#cw: gore#gore
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A Picture’s Worth || jjk (I)
Pairings: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Ex-Art Thief!Reader, Ex-Assassin!Reader, Ex-Gang member!Reader, Gang member!Jungkook, Assassin!Jungkook, Hitman!Jungkook, Thief!Jungkook Genre: Strangers to lovers, gang AU, mafia AU, Fluff, Angst, Smut Word Count: 23.2k+ Summary: After pulling off the largest art heist of her career, Y/N has put that life behind her. However, after 4 years out of the business, she comes home to find a stranger in her house. Warnings: violence, blood, gang activity, mafia activity, mentions of death, actual death, crime, robberies, pickpocketing, graphic depictions of injuries, guns, knives, mentions of past torture, body branding (not too graphic), major character(s) injured, STRONG LANGUAGE, Gang tattoos, Abuse (not JK and Reader), JK is a bit of a himbo, but only with his friends, he’s actually quite scary, I’m not a gang member or anything so I could be wrong about that stuff, I tried my best, eventual smut, mutual pining, kissing (let me know if I missing anything) Author’s Note:Things were getting out of hand, so I made the executive decision to split this into two parts. This one is establishing plot so no smut (yet). Thanks so much for reading. She’s a big girl.
Listen to the Playlist || cross posted to ao3: here
Five years ago
There comes a point in a child’s life that they begin to ponder over what they will become. Some girls I knew dreamt of becoming lawyers, doctors, or astronauts. I remember there being a time when I had thought of more than the mountains I had lived in, possibly moving to California and starting my life over after I was finished with school. I had even played with the idea of owning a salon. I hoped that I would be pretty when I grew up with bright red hair just like Ariel. It was strange looking back on that time and how little had truly changed.
While I had, in some ways, deviated from the life my family had wanted for me, I was still lurking in the shadows and biding my time. Instead of hiring me for hits, the players I worked for enjoyed the finer things in life. Patrons of the arts if you will. Staring up at the Rembrandt painting, it was not a wonder as to why.
Looking over my shoulder, I was relieved to see Hoseok in position. Locking eyes momentarily, I gave him a small, polite smile and returned to the painting in front of me. To the security cameras, we were simply two strangers who had a small moment in time. I knew that we were trying to use signals as much as we could without looking suspicious. A smile normally meant that I was confident I could pull this off. Hoseok’s returning nod was his way of saying he was happy with his own assessments.
The heist would take a few more weeks to plan out. Our buyer wanted 18 different art pieces from this museum, something that was doable with our team, as well as 38 pieces of jewelry. Taehyung and Jimin would be in charge of the operation. Walking away from the Rambrandt, I looked over other pieces with the same intensity to not raise suspicions. While the cameras here were not of great quality, they could still see us and that alone was enough to bother me.
Stealing has always come naturally to me. Second nature. When I was young I pickpocketed, the artform far more refined now that I was much older, and my parents enjoyed how sneaky I could be when I wanted to be. We never stayed anywhere for too long, the last place I had seen them was Aspen six years ago, but my favorite years were London. The Underground was a perfect place to pickpocket. In a day I could swipe over 100 items and no one would be the wiser.
My tastes changed as I grew. There was a time when I hated the idea of being a criminal like my parents were. I disdain violence at the best of times, but there were very few ways of getting out unscathed. It was when I managed to steal jewels from a heavily secured store that I caught the eyes of The Saints. Hoseok was impressed by my attention to detail and offered me a way to get out of my family home. I was sixteen and impulsive. A little over ten years later I was still standing here, pickpocketing the wealthy and giving it to those just as fortunate. It had stopped bothering me years ago, the guilt, but there was always a piece of me that longed for those far away dreams of cutting hair. It almost made me laugh just thinking about it.
“It’s a beautiful painting, isn’t it?” A soft voice asked, suddenly beside me.
Turning, I was confronted with a familiar face. Yoongi hardly changed, his set lips and keen eyes unwavering. There was a long, jagged scar that ran down his forehead, over his eye, and down his cheek. He got the scar when he was still in the Irish Mob back in Boston. He was an earner with those boys and they gave him hell about leaving. Still, he had managed to walk away only to join a different side of organized crime.
“Yes, but not really to my taste,” I joked.
I had never been the biggest fan of abstract work. I liked it a great deal more than landscapes, it was at least interesting to look at, but the lack of effort had bothered me. It would never take off anyway. No one liked over priced paint splatters. Yoongi hummed.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
Taking the cue, I stood as he walked off and began counting back from 500 in my head. Everyone would be heading back to the command now. Everything had been squared away for now. Taking one more passing glance at the Rembrandt, I sighed. Hopefully, when this is all done, I could walk away.
With my head held high, I slowly drifted toward the exit. Taking the time to look over art was another great way to cover my tracks. In order to stay a nobody, I had to be a nobody, and only a nobody would stop to look at a still-life of a bowl of fruit. I never did understand why these things were popular. Then, finally, after five more minutes of “ooo”ing an “ahh”ing at pieces I’ve seen every week for the last month, I was out of the door.
Three years ago
Blinking, I stood motionless as I stared at the cracks in the little apartment’s ceilings. It had been a difficult find, something so cheap in San Diego was a steal even if it was only 300 square feet. Smiling, I threw my duffel bag of belongings onto the futon I had brought earlier that day. Finally, things were going to start looking up.
I had flown in from Kansas the week prior and had made the most of cheap motel rooms until I scored this place. I had always loved California and finally I had made it home. Looking around, I found I was not as upset by the lack of space or functioning stove. In fact, it had been the lightest I had felt in a very long time. Only second to when I graduated from Aveda last fall.
Deciding to pick up what little boxes I had with me, I broke them down and tore them into strips that were easily thrown away. I was lucky the place had come with a small, countertop fridge and microwave. The only sink was in the bathroom, a room that was floor-to-ceiling covered in tile with a toilet, small sink, and a shower head. I would have to wear flip flops just in case. The landlord had recommended using a bucket since the hot water only lasted for about 10 minutes.
I did not have much. I had gotten into the habit of packing light and living even lighter, but I was determined to try this differently. I’ve gotten what I have always wanted and I was going to let anyone, or anything, take it away from me. Going to my duffel bag, I began packing out my folded clothes and organizing them into different piles before putting them away. I had bought a tall, skinny wardrobe at the same GoodWill I had gotten the futon from.
Calling out to my phone, I asked Siri to play some music and got to work. I hated silence. Using the small drawers on the left side, I stuffed my underwear and pajamas on that side of the wardrobe. The right side was meant to hang nice things on, but I did not own nice things anymore. Instead hung were two pairs of jeans, a few dresses, and some shirts. I only owned black now. It was the dress code for every salon I had ever worked at- including the newest one. My shoes went on the shelves above the drawers and I made a mental note to buy a better pair of sneakers. I wanted to get outside more often.
Putting away the rest of my things was just as quick. My makeup was stored away on the desk that was attached to the wall beside the fridge. It was meant to be a dining area, but I doubted I would ever have company over to make use of it. My few skincare products were safely stored away in the bathroom mirror, and my kit was under my bed for safe keeping. I was suddenly acutely aware of just how sad everything truly was.
“Well,” I mumbled to myself. “Hopefully I can get enough clientele to get out of this shithole.”
At least, I thought to myself, at least I was free.
With that in mind, I grabbed my keys and headed out into the city. It had been hours since I last stopped for anything and I would have no luck here for the night. Slipping into the hallway, I realized that I was happy. For the first time in a while I felt unadulterated. Things were going to be fine.
Two years ago
Clutching the pizza box with one hand and balancing it on my hip, I cradle my phone with my shoulder as I open the door to my building.
“The earliest I’ll be available is Thursday,” I said, my voice sickeningly sweet.
The customer, Jules, cheerfully asked if I had any availability on Sunday instead. Rolling my eyes, I reminded her that the salon was closed on both Sunday and Monday. This would be the third time I had to repeat myself.
“What about Saturday?” She asked, still as clueless as she had been since I had picked up.
“I’m free from 2pm until 3pm, but if you want a haircut and balayage I will need longer than an hour.”
“How long do you need?” Finally, I heard a hint of frustration slipping through her otherwise cheery voice.
“If you want the full layered balayage it can take up to three hours for hair as long as yours is. It can be shorter if you just want a partial- between 45 minutes to an hour and a half.”
Huffing up the stairs, I struggled to open the door to my floor and used my foot to keep it open while I awkwardly hobbled. Rolling my eyes, I wanted to pull my hair out. This would be the fourth time now.
“I can put you in Thursday morning from 8am until noon. I can also do Friday from 5pm until 8pm. I’m not available again until the following Wednesday.”
Jules hummed, unable to stay silent I found. We had been on the phone for twenty five minutes and I was beginning to get a migraine. She was sweet, and I appreciated her never ending patience, but I was not blessed with the same superpower. I had never been known for my temperament or politeness. I only had patience when money was involved. Shoving my door open with my shoulder, I willed those thoughts away. That was the last thing I needed to think about right now.
Jules was going to make me go rob a fucking bank at this rate. Banks weren’t even my thing. That brought a smile to my face and I put the pizza down on the single counter I had in the kitchen.
“I guess Thursday will work then. I was just hoping to get it done before my birthday.”
Pausing, I sighed heavily. Wonderful. She was a guilt tripper. Little shit.
“What day is your birthday?” I asked.
“Oh! It’s Tuesday. My girls and I are going to the Cheesecake Factory to celebrate.”
And despite my better judgment, I opened my calendar and began looking at my schedule on Tuesday. Knowing I had taken the bait hook, line, and sinker, I just went right out with it.
“We can try something if you’re open to it.”
“Sure, what’s up?” Jules asked, voice perking up.
“I can give you a partial balayage Tuesday and then you can come back Thursday to finish the rest if you want to after seeing the results.”
Jules squealed and began talking very quickly, her excitement palpable. I cringed away from the speaker of my phone.
“That would be Ah-mazing! What time on Tuesday could you see me?”
“I had a cancellation first thing in the morning. I’m free from 8am until 9:45. We’ll get as much as we can during that time.”
“Oh! I can definitely make that. Can we do the haircut on Tuesday instead of Thursday?”
Biting my tongue, I had to stop the smart ass comment I wanted to make from coming out. She was obviously very young or had little experience going to a salon. Still, it’s common sense that we would cut first. I’m not wasting products like that.
“That’s what I was thinking, too,” I settled on.
“Thanks so much, Y/N! See you Tuesday!”
“See you then, Jules. Before you go, can I get some information from you so I can put you down properly?”
After getting her full name, phone number, and email address, I let her go and logged into the salon’s appointment system to add her in. Our receptionist had quit two months ago and we were having a hard time finding a replacement. I tried to tell Tony he needed to raise the pay but he was not budging. Right now we were all stuck keeping track of everything ourselves.
The pizza was not very hot anymore but was warm enough to not be too bothersome. Happy to have some extra money coming in, I went to the fridge and grabbed a soda from it. I bought a small cart to put my microwave on. The mini fridge just happened to fit perfectly below it. The small Keurig I bought myself for Black Friday was right beside the microwave. A snug fit but it worked. Taking a bite of the pizza, I leaned against the counter and groaned.
I was so happy to be home.
Home. It was a word I was still hesitant to say. It was hard to believe things were permanent even after all this time. Some nights I stared up at the ceiling and waited for a knock on my door. Even if Hoseok promised emergencies only it was difficult to know what the guys would consider an emergency. That world was so far removed from this new reality of mine that I feared I was losing my edge. Would I even be able to help them anymore?
With doubt and a recurring nightmare, I fell asleep and dreamt of casinos and Rembrandt.
One year later
Sweeping up the floor, I glanced around the room to find myself alone.
“Great,” I huffed. “I’m going to have to talk to Tony about this bullshit.”
It had been the third time the new hire, Sasha, had left without helping with cleanup. First he snuck out of the back when he was helping Tiesha, and the last two times had been with me. While we tried to keep the boss out of the personal issues we had at the shop, I was not about to let some 19-year-old walk around like he’s above it all. Angrily, I kept sweeping and hoped that the bastard got stuck in the worst traffic getting back on the I-5.
Walking over to Andrea’s station, I rolled my eyes. She always forgot to put her combs in the sterilizing solution. Making quick work of that, I went around checking everyone’s stations to be sure it was all in order. Even Sasha’s. His desk was immaculately cleaned and I gritted my teeth harder. Seems like he’s one of those people. Feeling petty, I skipped sweeping under his vanity and kept going. Not like it made much of a difference anyway. Maybe I should steal his wallet tomorrow and help him look for it.
Fucking idiot.
No, I scolded myself. I am not that person anymore. I would definitely not go back to that lifestyle for Alexander Ivanov. Reminding myself that he was just a spoiled little brat, I continued sweeping hoping it would calm me down long enough to clear my head. If I let any of those ideas foster that would be bad. I’d have every valuable item that boy owned by lunch.
Suddenly the front desk phone began to ring and I chose to ignore it. It was five minutes after closing time and I did not feel like dealing with anyone else today. Sasha had pissed me off enough. I did not want some snotty customer adding to it. The ringing stopped and I was satisfied that they simply left a voicemail.
Turning to go back to the staff room to gather the Swiffer, I was stopped in my tracks by the phone. A part of me wanted to answer it now. It had to be the same person. Still, I was off the clock and that was not a part of my job description. Destiny would handle it in the morning. The ringing stopped. I started walking. It started up again.
Peeved but resigned, I walked to the front desk and checked the number flashing on the screen. It was from out of state. Figures. Usually clients who wanted to come in on vacation called without realizing the time zone difference. Forcing a smile to my face, I picked up.
“Mane Street, this is Y/N speaking. How can I help you?”
“Ten minutes.” The line died.
I knew that voice from anywhere. Shaking, I placed the phone back on its modem and took a second to gather myself. Whatever the emergency was, I only had ten minutes to finish cleaning and get outside. Knowing Hoseok, he would be waiting for me near my car. Better yet, he’d already be in the passenger seat.
Scrambling, I began to mop the floors and Windex the mirrors. I refused to let this unexpected visit stop me from performing my job. I was happy Sasha had left. I probably looked like I’d seen a ghost. You have definitely heard one, my subconscious screamed.
I was locked up eight minutes later. I had been keeping count in my head just as I always had before. It was unsettling just how quickly I had transformed back into the person I had once been. Who was I fooling? I’ve been covering her up with scissors, a shitty studio apartment, and take out. That did not change the overseas accounts, fake names, and stolen jewelry I’ve kept. That doesn’t change the stolen art hanging on my walls.
Rounding the back of the store, I was not surprised to see my vehicle was the only one still there. Squinting, I could see the silhouette of a person’s head in the passenger side. The street light just in front of the pickup was facing the front, their side profile obscured by the light, but I would recognize Hoseok anywhere. He was hard but soft, jagged but gentle, and most importantly, his face was oval with a pointed chin. Anxiety bubbling in my stomach, I put on a brave face and marched forward. I would be right on time.
Hoseok did not say a word as I slid into the driver’s seat or when I closed the door. Not waiting for him to make a demand, I started the engine and turned on the AC. It was stuffy. Hoseok continued to look straight while I buckled my seatbelt and put the truck in reverse.
“Don’t go home,” He finally said.
Dread filled my stomach but I did as he said. Instead of turning left, I went right and headed for the little diner I enjoyed getting a late dinner at. It was the best place for steak and eggs. I was not sure if Hoseok would be hungry but I did not care. We never really thought about those things before.
“I’m glad to see you’re doing what you like,” He spoke again, his voice still gentle. “You look very nice, too. Like the new hair.”
I was always unnerved by this side of Hoseok. He was typically a very loud, energetic, and passionate man. Soft spoken and Hoseok had never gone together. Then again, it had been almost five years since I had seen him. A lot could change within that time. That, or whatever he was going to tell me would require softness. I hoped it was just a personality change from getting older.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m glad to see you’re healthy.”
Finally, he cracked a smile. “Hadn’t realized you thought about me at all.”
I scoffed, “Of course I think about you. I think about all of you very often.”
This seemed to throw him for a loop. It was weird to speak so openly about my feelings. We had always gone about life with coldness. Being sharp and intense was the only way to survive out there. If anyone saw you as weak or vulnerable then you were finished. That was why Yoongi usually acted as a middle man. He was the hardest, coldest, most impenetrable wall there ever was. Just looking into his eyes you could see that. Shivering, I recalled the time he killed a man with a set of chopsticks while we were in Korea.
“We think about you, too,” Hoseok said, sounding far away.
Turning into the diner’s parking lot, I turned off the engine and got out. Hoseok followed closely behind me and I asked him if he wanted anything.
“I hear the steak and eggs are nice,” He commented, eyes downcasted.
“Is Taehyung keeping tabs on me?” I sneered, anxiety turning into anger.
Taehyung was the tech guy when he wasn’t stealing jewels. He was also a royal pain in the ass who never knew when to cool it. He had been the most upset when he heard that I was leaving the crew and I would not put it past him. Taehyung was just that kind of guy. The gesture was kind, I was certain of that, and came from a place of love. Still, I had asked to be left alone. It seemed like no one really accepted that.
“I tried to stop it but it’s impossible to keep track of everything he does,” Hoseok admitted. “After a while we just accepted the fact that he wouldn’t give it up. He is trying to check in less and less, though. He’s just worried someone will come around and we won’t know about it.”
“And that’s how you knew where I worked?”
Holding the door open, Hoseok thanked me before going inside. Doris smiled at me when I walked inside. She was an elderly woman who liked to help me with my Sudoku puzzles on Sunday mornings. Eyeing Hoseok curiously, I waved at her before finding an open booth. I normally sat at the bar but I did not want prying eyes. Doris would not go away if we sat there and Hoseok was obviously wanting privacy.
“Hey sugar,” Dixie, a waitress from Alabama, greeted us.
She put down two menus and asked us what we wanted to drink. Hoseok ordered a coffee while I got a glass of chocolate milk. The man looked me up and down, amusement coloring every one of his features. I waved him off and looked at the menu. If he ordered steak and eggs I would order something else. Hoseok was a big fan of sharing food even if we both had our own portions.
Hoseok, like many of the guys from the crew, was South Korean. He was born in Gwangju, a city in the southern part of the country, and moved to the US with his friend Namjoon during university. Namjoon went on to become a campaign manager in New York City while Hoseok became an associate of the Gambino family after killing a few guys. Over time the two went their separate ways, but Hoseok always spoke fondly of him. Last he heard, Namjoon had moved to Seoul and was working at the Blue House.
“You all figured out what you want?” Dixie asked, reappearing with our drinks.
Hoseok ordered the steak and eggs while I got their “Rising Roadhouse'' meal. It came with waffles and I knew that would make Hoseok happy. When we were alone again, Hoseok sighed.
“It’s Jimin,” He said.
Bracing myself, I leaned in closer so we could speak quietly. The diner was almost empty at this time of night and I was nervous. This was shit no one needed to hear about. Hoseok got closer to me.
“What’s going on?” I demanded, whispering harshly.
“He’s gotten into some shit with Winter Hill again. Yoongi bailed him out but things are going to shit. They want us to get some things for them to make up for it. We weren’t sure where to go, and Georgie was very specific.”
I breathed through my nose. Jimin was my closest friend during my time with the crew. We thought the most alike, worked the best, and trusted one another. However, we were also hot heads. I had worked on myself tremendously over the years, but Jimin had the worst kind of anger. Talking out the mouth. And to talk to somebody in Winter Hill the way I assumed he had? Jimin was asking to lose a finger. That’s if he hadn’t already. Looking at Hoseok, he seemed to know what question I had on my mind.
“Yoongi made him cut the first joint off. I told him to write an apology letter in blood. I also sent the boss the piece in a medicine jar. Just to be sure.”
Grimacing, I rubbed my forehead. I had almost forgotten the way they do things in the mafia. The letter in blood, however, seemed more of a New York thing. I’d have to get clarification on that later. Leaning back in my chair, I shook my head.
“Unbelievable,” I mumbled absentmindedly.
On one hand, I was very angry that either of them would humiliate Jimin like that. On the other hand, I knew that the boy had put them in a very, very fucked up spot. Either they make amends and punish him or they lose the entire East Coast. If Boston doesn’t want anything to do with them, New York will become weary as well. Even if Hoseok was a Red Pull at one time, he is still an outsider. He was still just an associate.
“What is he looking for?” I finally asked, leaning back in.
“Jewelry. Said they wanted something ‘your old girl’ would like. Said you’d know what to do.”
I smirked. Georgie Boy had always been impressed with my taste. Still, I was not sure about getting involved with all of this. In order to do so would mean helping them stake out a place and I was not going there. I had made my peace. Still, I could not help the part of me that felt excited. I squashed it like a bug.
“I’m not helping you with anything,” I said.
“I’m not asking you to,” He replied. “Just tell us if you’ve seen anything noteworthy lately.”
Dixie came back with our food and I used it as a distraction. I needed time to think. Hoseok and I ate off of one another and I continued to sit and ponder over the new things I had seen at the museum in town. I had gone many times, I had always tried to desensitize myself to the feeling I got when I walked in, but each time I looked around. I knew where every single camera was, I knew how to get into the back, and I was familiar enough with the security system to work around it. Every detail of a heist had already formed in my head that I refused to act on. Just as I knew every museum all the way up to Orange County. There were quite a few jewelers that had caught my eye as well. Still, I knew my answer after a few minutes of silence.
“His daughter’s birthday is soon, isn’t it?” I clarified, making sure my memory serves me well.
“In a few weeks,” Hoseok nodded.
“There’s a pair of earrings at Beverly Hills Jewelers,” I started. “They’re 2 carat, T.W, diamonds. They’re heart shaped. Halo. They’re beautiful.”
“Price?”
“I believe $15,000. They have some nice tennis chains as well that could match.”
He hummed, “I don’t know if it’ll be enough.”
I nodded, “I’ll include a personalized letter as well as a ring from my own collection if that helps.”
Hoseok smiled brightly at me. I knew that had pleased him. Georgie Boy would also be happy. His little girl gets some nice gifts and he gets to wave his dick around like the narcissist is is. In my head, I was already trying to remember the layout of the store. I had only gone inside twice when I took a trip to Beverly Hills. I was having a rough day and I wanted to get back in my element for a while. Scoping out places was always a relaxing thing for me to do. I ended up buying a necklace while I was there so they wouldn’t become suspicious of me. Still, I would have to see it again and show the guys what I was talking about so they could do the hit. That place was heavily secured.
“Thanks, Y/N,” Hoseok said, pushing the last piece of steak closer to me.
Grinning at him I replied, “It was an emergency.”
And then I popped the steak in my mouth and savored the taste. Just for now I would have a little bit of chaos. It would just be Hoseok and I, so that made the guilt lessen. At least this wasn’t something I would have to actually perform. Still, I thought to myself, I was incredibly bored without the little bit of chaos I had before.
Present
Laughing, I cut another piece of brown hair off. Jules stared at me, her hands covering her mouth, while she shook. She was a regular now, always got the same treatment, but when she called about her appointment last week she asked for a bob. Well, giving it to her, it was difficult to imagine just how upset she would become.
Her mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer and she wanted to show her that she was standing with her. The chemo had made chunks fall out and her mother decided to buzz her head. I had been the person to do that and give her a pamphlet of local stores she could go to and buy nice wigs. Jules, however, had called me late and said she wanted to donate her own hair for her mom. Tony had recently registered the salon with Locks of Love and trained us all in it. Sasha had been the most excited about the prospect. His mother had died from cancer when he was in highschool.
Jules’s hair was thick, dark brown, and wavy. Everything about it was perfect and she was a dream to work with. She always took things in stride and tipped well. Today, I was worried if she would ever come back.
Her hair was long enough that we could keep it at her shoulders. She had always kept it past her butt, just barely grazing her upper thighs, and took pride in it. I was still planning to give her plenty of highlights and a blowout- on the house. I had nothing but love for the girl and I knew how difficult this would be for her. Glancing at Tiesha, she smiled.
“Girl, what are you crying for?” She joked, parting another section of her client’s hair.
I recognized her but was not sure of her name. She always came in for installations or silk presses. Tiesha was always happy to see her, at the very least, so I knew she was a nice enough person.
“I don’t know,” Jules whined back, sniffling and rubbing her reddening eyes.
“Now, you are too damn pretty to be looking like that,” She replied, braiding back another section. “Make an appointment with momma and I’ll hook you up.”
I scoffed, “I can do extensions, too.”
“Oh, I know. But you’re most definitely a colorist. Julie, baby, Ty will take good care of you, okay?”
“Your mom will be very happy,” Sasha chimed in, his Russian accent thick.
Jules nodded, “Yeah, she will.”
I smiled to myself. That was the best motivator to get through this. I kept as much length as I could and I was still going to try to make her feel pretty with the new style. She had said her friends were excited but her boyfriend was conflicted. He loved her hair. That made me frown. Who the fuck says that to their girlfriend? Especially one who’s doing it for their sick mother.
“I’ve never gone this short before,” Jules said, her composure coming back. “It’s scary.”
“Don’t worry,” Sasha soothed, cleaning up from his last client. “You’ve got the best in the house. Y/N’ll take care of you.”
I winked at the boy. Sasha had grown on me considerably since he was first hired. I had not gone to Tony about his skipping after all, instead I cornered him at work and told him if he ever ditched me again I would get him fired. We were rocky after that but I knew his respect for me had gone up. A friendship blossomed when he confessed he was clueless about doing color. Sasha was an amazing stylist and his precion was otherworldly, but Destiny was right to never give him color clients. I spent a few nights helping him practice on some mannequin heads and he followed me around like a puppy. He had even agreed to clean up alone for two nights while I was in Beverly Hills helping Hoseok scope out the place. We were thick as thieves after that.
“I know that,” Jules cracked a smile. “She always takes care of me.”
“I’m flattered,” I finally said. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plans for you.”
Her smile grew. Jules had been very excited about free coloring. I had told her I was giving myself free reign, and I wondered if she thought I was going to go manic pixie on her. Hopefully some lowlights and babylights would suffice. We had never gone darker before and I thought it would suit the new cut well.
Cutting in her layers, I was happy with how it looked. Her hair framed her face nicely and she would still have enough length to play around with it if she wanted. Jules was a fan of those half-up, half-down looks. Using my comb, I ran through her hair and cut. So far, she had not looked back at the mirror. She seemed nervous too.
“Do you want me to cut your bangs blunt or keep them split?” I asked.
Jules perked up, “Oh! I was actually thinking about trying a new bang style.”
I nodded, “Do you have a picture?”
She opened her gallery and pulled it up. I smiled to myself. Jameela Jamil really did pull off the schoolgirl bangs.
“So in between?” I walked around so she was facing me.
“Do you think it’ll look nice?” She asked, chewing her bottom lip.
I studied her face for a moment.
“You’ll look great, but it might take some time to get used to. They’re a bit more maintenance than blunt or curtain.”
She smiled, “I figured that.”
Working quietly, I began to trim her bangs into the correct shape. They will look their best after I finish styling the rest of her hair. Jules loved it when I straightened her hair after our visits. She never had the patience for it at home and it made her feel special when she got it done here. I would have to let her know that her bangs will look pretty if she curled the longer side pieces to blend them in with her natural waves. With the cutting done, it was time to start the lowlights.
“When is your next appointment?” I asked Sasha.
He was sitting in his chair and texting someone on his phone. He glanced at me before getting back to his screen.
“About twenty minutes. He’s new.”
“Oh, a man?” Tiesha dramatically emphasized the man part. It was not often that men booked with us. Sasha had gone to barber school and did amazing work, but for some reason the idea of going to a salon bothered most men. “He from out of town?”
“I think so,” The Russian nodded. “He definitely sounded foreign. I couldn’t tell where from. Maybe Asia?”
I froze for a moment. I took a breath. There was absolutely no way that any of them would do that. Then I thought of Taehyung. Absolutely not, I scolded myself. That boy feared me more than anybody else. I would ring him by his neck and then let Yoongi know about it. Besides, I said emergencies only. They would have scheduled with me if they were trying to talk. Walking back to my chair, I placed the dye and bleach down on the metal tray next to me. Opening one of the drawers at my desk, I grabbed some latex gloves and foil.
Getting started was simple. Getting the brown, I began painting sections of her hair and foiling them. The foil was not really necessary, but I always got nervous that the parts I did not want colored would get touched. Lowlights were more sparsely added, and unlike highlights, never layers. Making my way around her head, I was excited to see if she would like it. I only went a shade darker than her natural color, so the color contrast was not extremely stark. The highlights were the most important part of the look.
Foiling the last piece of hair, I took the bowl to the sink near the back as well as the brush I was using. Tossing them in and removing my gloves, I heard the bell chime and Sasha’s customer service voice begin. No one could beat Tiesha’s, that woman had client relationships like no one I had ever met. They adored her.
“Come sit and we can get started,” Sasha seemed more excited than usual.
I guessed the guy wanted something a bit different from his normal caseload.
“Alright,” I sighed, clapping my hands. “Let's get this bleach started.”
Walking back into the main room, I paid no mind to the customer sitting in Sasha’s chair. Jules was FaceTiming with someone and I grinned when I recognized her mom’s voice. She seemed very cheery today.
“Oh, I love that length on you,” Martha gushed, her accent only picking up on certain words.
“Gracias, mami,” Jules beamed. “Do you think Carlos will like it?”
Martha waved her hands around animatedly when she talked. I had learned that from the many times she came to the salon with Jules. Now, she was shaking them violently.
“Who cares?”
I laughed and got to work on her highlights.
“I said the same thing,” I chimed.
The three of us talked as I worked. Martha always enjoyed asking me about the craziest customer of the week, and I usually indulge her. This week it had been a very convoluted, pastel rainbow color job. She wanted the top half white and the bottom portion colored. She booked out my entire day, gave me hell about every insignificant detail, and then left a $2 tip. Sasha got to hear me rant and rave about it when we were cleaning that night.
“She’s never allowed in my chair again,” I finished, setting a timer for everything.
The lowlights had been sitting for twenty minutes while the babylights would need about 15 in order to develop the way I want them to. Thinking, I was certain the lowlights would be fine going two minutes over the usual time. They would be hardly noticeable regardless.
“You’ve had worse,” Sasha pointed out.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “But those women tip well. I don’t care how rude you are- money is money. That chick is a pain in the ass without the benefits.”
“She has nothing on Kimberly,” Tiesha joked.
I groaned, “God, don’t even put that name into the universe. She’s due back soon.”
Sasha laughed. “She does pay very well. Don’t blame you.”
“Who’s Kimberly?” Jules asked.
I gave Tiesha a look before answering her.
“She’s a regular. Tony was her go-to guy, but he’s only in twice a week and it doesn’t line up with her schedule. He sent her over to me. Let’s just say she takes picky to a new level.”
Jules snickered, “What does she like to get?”
“Usually a platinum blonde, layered cut. On paper it’s not the most difficult thing in the world, but she makes it much more complicated than it needs to be.”
“Complicated?” Tiesha exclaimed. “That woman is super rude, always late, and acts like she knows everything. I’d tell that bitch to kick rocks.”
Her client laughed out loud.
“That might be true,” I reasoned, checking the foils. “But, she always tips well and shouts me out on her socials. So, can I really complain? Besides, I’m used to her.”
Checking the foils again, I was happy with the color they were and decided to take the foils off early. Stopping my timer, I asked Jules to walk over to the rinsing station. I was happy this was my last client. Sweeping up the hair, I left it in the dustpan until I was ready to begin the tedious task of preparing it for donation. Putting on a new pair of gloves, I willed this day to be over already.
I knew something was off when a new motorcycle was parked out front. Briefly checking the plates, I was even more weary when they were from Jersey. I knew far too many people in that corner of the US. Still, I told myself that it could be anybody. Perhaps one of my new neighbors was from Hobokan. That was highly unlikely, though. Eyeing the red leather jacket hanging from one of the handles, I only knew one person who owned something like that. I guess I will be seeing Jimin tonight. The thought bothered me far more than I thought it would.
Taking my time going up the stairs, I considered calling Hoseok and demanding to know why Park was sniffing around my apartment. I knew I should have moved out, should have tried something new, but the thought of leaving the only home I ever knew bothered me. Using the time climbing to my advantage, I slowly steeled myself. Jimin could smell weakness from a mile away. He was also one person who could convince me to do bad things.
The excitement that ran through me at the idea sickened me.
Starting at the 4 on the door, I braced myself. When I walked into that hallway all traces of the new me had to disappear. There can be no laughter, no crying, and no open hostility. I would have to be a blank slate. With one small breath, I pulled the door and went into the hall.
There wasn’t a body in sight, but I knew better than to go off of that. Jimin could get into my apartment with relative ease. No one would notice either. Everyone else that lived was too busy making ends meet to pay attention to the stranger sneaking into my house.
Taking my keys out of my purse, I unlocked the door and walked inside. I could smell him. It was, however, not Jimin. Jimin only wore Orange Blossom by Jo Malone. Whoever this was smelled like baby powder and flowers. My guard completely up now, I continued further into the studio and kicked the door closed behind me. Whoever it was, I knew had been standing behind the door. The smell was not as potent as it had been before.
Going into the kitchen, I shrugged my coat off before throwing it behind me. I heard it hit something and it was a blur after that. I quickly snatched a kitchen knife from the drying rack and threw myself to the ground. The man grabbed my hands. Kicking his inner thigh, I rolled from underneath him and shot up. He threw his arms up.
“Stop!”
Ignoring him, I threw the knife. The man reacted quickly, catching the blade in between his hands before throwing it down on the floor. While he was distracted, I slid on the floor and grabbed the pistol from under my bed. Pointing it at the man, he rolled his eyes dramatically.
“What are you going to do? Shoot me?”
Without saying anything, I aimed for his left shoulder and fired. The silencer muzzled the shot, though the pop was still nasty. It worked better with a pillow added to the equation. I doubted any of my neighbors would notice the sound, however. The man shouted, stumbled back, and leaned against the fridge.
“You shot me,” He exclaimed, shocked.
“Who the fuck are you?” I barked, aimed for his other shoulder.
“You wait to ask me after you-”
I shot again. He gritted his teeth and sank to the floor. The wounds were leaking blood but I tried to not let it bother me. This guy broke into my house. This time, I aimed for his right knee.
“Who are you?” I asked again.
“Jungkook,” The man, Jungkook, answered. “I’m with The Saints.”
Lowering the barrel of the gun, I stared at him for a second. He was with my crew? Since when?
“Who sent you?” I asked, aiming at his chest now.
If he was going to get found out, he might be more inclined to lunge before I could call anyone.
“Yoongi.”
Slowly, I reached into my back pocket and got my phone. I was relieved the screen hadn’t cracked during the outfall. Slowly, keeping my eyes on Jungkook, I started typing in the number I knew by heart. If he was lucky, Yoongi would pick up. If not, then we weren’t moving until someone did. After the second ring, a rough voice greeted me.
“August.”
Training my gun on his head, I spoke.
“There’s someone claiming they know you in my apartment.”
After a few seconds, Yoongi’s voice was hard when he replied.
“Who is it?”
“Says his name is Jungkook,” I replied evenly.
I was fully prepared to pull the trigger. Jungkook stared the barrel down without fear. I only hoped he would go down quickly and quietly.
Yoongi sighed harshly, “Fucking Jimin.”
Gripping the handle tightly, I placed my finger on the trigger. I only needed the okay now.
“He’s fine,” Yoongi was annoyed. “I sent Jimin but I guess he got the kid to go instead.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, I put the gun down. Jungkook visibly relaxed then and moaned in pain. Raising a hand, he cradled his left shoulder and hissed in pain.
“Fucked him up,” I admitted. “He was in my apartment when I got home.”
Yoongi hummed, “Take care of him. He’ll let you know what’s going on. We have a problem.”
He hung up before I could respond.
I hated when he did that. I had no idea who Jungkook was, or what he was here to tell me, but we were on the same team. And I just shot him. Twice. Putting the gun back in its original spot, I reached a little further behind it and retrieved my first aid kit. Jungkook sagged in relief.
“Sorry,” I apologized, helping him take his shirt off. “Didn’t realize you were with us.”
Jungkook hissed when I applied alcohol to the wounds. It would take me a while to get his patched up, but I was capable of doing it. Years of friendship with The Saints would do that to you. Looking at Jungkook, I was taken aback by how attractive he was.
All of the Saints were good looking, but this guy had an aura about him. His hair was wild, pitch black, and down to his shoulders. His skin was gently tanned with small moles dotted sporadically across his body. What caught my attention the most was the shiny, silver lip ring he donned. That was an oddity in our world.
“My fault, shouldn’t have broken in without a warning,” He replied.
“I saw the bike outside and thought you were Jimin.”
He hummed then winced. I knew those bullets did not feel nice. Taking my time and trying to be gentle, I used a pair of tweezers to get them out. Jungkook bit his lip so hard he drew blood.
“Yeah,” He breathed out. “Let me borrow it for the ride.”
“Park,” We both knew what I meant by that.
For the next hour we sat in silence. He let me work and I listened to every sharp intake of breath, groan, and moan. I felt guilty about everything, but I also had a certain level of apathy. The guy was nobody to me. Not really. Same crew doesn’t mean we’re friends. Still, if they sent him here then that meant they trusted him enough to come. That told me a lot about him.
After I placed gauze over the stitches, Jungkook finally spoke again.
“Jin hyung said you were harmless,” He chuckled. “I’ll let him know he’s wrong.”
Ignoring his comment, I went to find him something to wear. I doubted he would be able to fit any of my things. He was huge, a tall man with big arms, but I could make something work. Grabbing a loose fitting dress, I threw it to him.
“I don’t have anything for a man, so that will have to do.”
He nodded and put the dress on without complaint.
“I’ll pick up something for you later,” I continued. “Did you come alone?”
Jungkook shook his head, “Hyung’s around. He was going to come but an old friend called so he sent me.”
“Kai?” I wondered, already knowing the answer.
Jimin and Kai were good friends. They had known one another since they were kids and got involved in crime together. I’d only met the guy in passing the few times he had visited Boston, but I was not very familiar with him. I knew he was a drug runner on the west coast but that was where my knowledge stopped.
“Yeah, said they had business or something.”
I hummed, “Would you like to lay down for a moment?”
Jungkook was very obviously in pain. He tried to deny it for a minute but ultimately took my offer. Going to the fridge, I pulled out a can of Ginger Ale and gave it to him. He accepted it readily.
“Sorry about the gun,” I offered, sitting on the floor. “Jin’s right. I’m usually pretty harmless. I didn’t even own a gun until I left The Saints.”
Jungkook shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. You weren’t expecting company.”
Opening my own drink, I eyed him. He was far too calm. My guess was this was not his first time being shot. Trying to find other wounds was pointless, however, he was too clothed. I hadn’t even thought to check when I was helping him earlier.
“Why’d you come inside anyway?” I asked.
Jungkook grinned ruefully.
“Hyung said he’d call you.”
That pulled a laugh out of me. Park probably forgot about it. For someone as dangerous as he was, he could be irresponsible. I remember when we were scoping a jewelry store together a few years back, Jimin had completely forgotten where the cameras were by the time we left. I had to go back myself a few days later to make sure his guesses were right. We had never let him live it down. Yoongi did not think it was very funny.
“Typical,” I said.
“Yeah.”
Jungkook’s eyes slipped closed. He was so completely at ease in my presence it was unnerving. Taking a sip of my drink, I looked at him in bewilderment. He was so much like Taehyung, trusting and easy going. It was difficult to imagine what role he played in the crew. He could have taken my place but I doubted he was as good. He had come here, hid behind my door, and then ambushed me. Then he was surprised when I acted like he was an enemy. Chuckling, I put my drink down. Yeah, just like Taehyung.
“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes still closed.
Wiping the smile off my face, I replied. “Just thinking.”
We did not talk again. I was sure Jungkook had dozed off, but he kept waking back up again. Getting up, I began looking for some pain medicine to no avail. I had not needed to put myself to sleep in a long time. Grabbing my keys from the floor, I told Jungkook I was heading out for a bit. I got no response. Patting myself down, I knew I did not have my phone and picked it up from beside the bed. Jungkook was lightly snoring.
Slipping from the room, I locked up and went downstairs. Typing in the last number I had for Jimin, I was not surprised that it was no longer in service. He changed phones like you change clothes. Deciding to call Taehyung, I went to my contacts to find him. He was the only person I saved.
“Hello?” His voice was deep and hoarse.
Glancing at the time, I realized it was much later than I thought.
“Sorry about the time,” I replied. “It’s Mouse.”
I heard shuffling on the other side. Taehyung had gotten himself a girlfriend, Jennie, and I was almost positive she was relatively clueless about his life. The last time I talked to Hoseok, he had said she thought he was a tech guy who was helping a start up. He must have been with her now if his silence was anything to go by.
“Sorry,” He said, voice low. “I’m not alone.”
“I just need Park’s number and you can get back to bed.”
Saying the numbers slowly, I typed them into my keypad as I made my way through the dark streets.
“Thanks,” I stopped walking once I got to the gas station around the corner. “Get some sleep.”
“It was good to hear your voice,” He replied, more awake than he had been. “I’ll be seeing you.”
“Night, V.”
“Night, Mouse.”
Hanging up, I stuffed my phone into my back pocket and walked into the store. It was deserted except for the cashier. Giving me a stiff nod, I ignored the man before going to the back of the store and getting some bottled water. I never trusted the tap in the building. Afterwards, I got a bottle of Nyquil and Advil before going to the register.
“Let me get a pack of Marlboro Black Menthols,” I told the cashier.
Taking out my phone, I took my ID from the attached wallet as well as my debit card. The man held the pack of cigarettes and took my ID. Briefly looking it over, he scanned the barcode before scanning the cigarettes. Handing the ID back to me, he began scanning my other items before bagging them.
“Your total is $26.87.”
Nodding, I inserted my card and typed my pin. Putting my card back into the small wallet, I put my phone into my pocket and took the bag.
“Have a good night,” I said.
“You too,” He replied.
Leaving the store, I opened up my keypad and pressed the call button. Jimin picked up after four rings.
“Hello?” He answered, voice brightly and bubbly.
He always answered unknown numbers like that just in case. Jimin always prioritized having the upper hand over anything else. Anyone looking for Park would never connect him to the voice on the other side. I, however, was familiar enough with him to see through the facade.
“You got your boy hit,” I said, cutting right to the chase. “I had to give him a dress and Nyquil after popping two in him.”
Jimin laughed loudly, his fake voice gone. This was why we were friends. Our senses of humor were far too warped due to our upbringings. In another world we would have been enemies belonging to different clans, but I liked this timeline far more. Park was a great guy when you looked past the insecurities, anger issues, and tendency to seek violence.
“Jungkook’s wearing a dress?” He exclaimed, still laughing. “God, you have to take a picture for me.”
I rolled my eyes, “Explain why he’s here. I would ask him but I stepped out to get some medicine for him.”
Jimin’s laughter abruptly cut off. That feeling of dread returned. If Park was getting serious then that meant whatever the situation was must be more than I thought it would be. I was expecting them to need me to help them with a heist, but I was getting the feeling it might be more than that. Jimin sighed.
“I can’t get into specifics right now, but you need to get the fuck out of California.”
Going up the stairs of my complex, I paused.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re not safe here anymore.”
Growing angry, I shouted. “Enough with the cryptic messages, Park!”
Continuing to go up, I kept looking around every corner I went to. This was the worst fucking timing I could have had. Things were finally going well for me, I had friends and a job that I actually liked, and I had to give it all up again. Tears filling my eyes, I shoved open my door and slammed it behind me.
“I told you I can’t get into specifics, but there’s a reason I’m with Kai right now. You and Jungkook need to get out of that apartment as soon as possible. I don’t care where you go but you need to leave.”
Jungkook sprung up when I kicked the edge of my bed. Pointing to my phone, I mouth ‘Jimin.’ Getting on my knees, I pulled out my duffle bag from underneath the bed and threw it at the other man. He looked at me when he stood up. I noticed the way he winced and held up the bag in my hand.
“Copy,” Was all I replied.
“Get to Boston. Don’t take the truck.”
“Give me something to work with,” I demanded, taking the Advil out of the bag and tossing it to Jungkook. “I can’t be blind.”
“Cмерть не за горами.”
My entire world stopped spinning. I could hear my heart beating, feel my lungs pushing the air out of my body, while my eyes were frozen. Every single inch of my skin shivered, goosebumps springing up, and I broke out into a cold sweat. This was no heist.
Hanging up on Jimin, I went to the window above my bed and opened it. Throwing the phone as far as I could, I turned to find Jungkook waiting for instructions. Staring at him, I decided to take a leap of faith.
“Ты один из нас?” I asked.
Jungkook raised an eyebrow at me. “What?”
Gritting my teeth, I snatched the duffle from him. Jungkook continued waiting for me to tell him what to do. I pointed to my bathroom.
“Take everything from the mirror cabinet and put it in the bag. After that, grab what you can from the wardrobe and stuff it. Only take one pair of shoes and a pair of heels. That’s all I’ll need.”
He got to work quickly. Going back to the bed, I took out my gun and the spare ammo I kept locked up at the very back corner. Placing the ammo in the duffle, I took my first aid kit from the kitchen floor and tossed it in as well.
“Do you have a gun?” I asked Jungkook.
“Yeah,” He replied. “It’s in the jacket downstairs. I thought you would feel more comfortable if I wasn’t armed.”
Packing my small makeup collection, I felt myself shutting down. Bad girls don’t have feelings, and I was fucking heartless. Yes, I told myself, heartless. It was harder to pretend now than it had been, I was rusty and in desperate need of a distraction. The thought of finding my old family in the shadows was always frightening, but the thought of them looking for me was far more unsettling.
“Done,” Jungkook announced.
Realizing I had zoned out, I quickly put my makeup in the duffle bag and closed it. I had no time to dwell or be afraid. Heartless, Mouse, Heartless. I hated that name. Shaking my head, I pulled myself together enough to sling the duffle over my shoulder. Jungkook went to take it but I held my hand up.
“You’re not carrying this with your injuries. Just take that bag and this-” I handed him my gun. “I don’t know how quick you are but it’s probably better than me. I’m rusty.”
He nodded and we made our way down the stairs. Thinking, I began to categorize the cars that were in the parking lot and on the street. My truck was near the front but the streets were shrouded in light at this time. Jungkook’s bike was also out front. The back had security cameras but was pitch black at this time. I decided the front was the risk I was more willing to take and went through the hallway door on the first floor. Passing the doors, I paid no mind to Jungkook. He was capable and stayed in step with me effortlessly.
We would drive for a few hours, probably stopping at a diner so I could get another car, and keep going until we hit Arizona or New Mexico. I had not decided yet. Going out the front doors, I waved Jungkook away while I walked down the street. He went to get his jacket but left the bike behind. He was back beside me in a few seconds.
Crossing the street, I had my eyes on a Honda Accord parked on the curb. It was definitely a ‘97 model. I could start her up in a heartbeat. Unzipping one of the side pockets of my bag, I pulled out a switchblade and zipped it back up. Going to the driver’s side, Jungkook stayed at my back while I tried the handle. To my surprise, it opened. Stepping to the side, I gently tapped Jungkook’s back. Turning, he quickly shoved the gun into the backseat as I opened the door. After seeing that the coast was clear, I motioned for him to go around the car while I popped the truck. He said it was fine.
Nodding at him, I got into the car. Kicking the steering wheel, I heard the column lock break before swapping the ECUs. Taking my knife, I ripped off the lower center cover. Getting back out of the car, I opened the backseat and threw my duffle inside. Putting my knife back in its pocket, I opened the long side pocket along the front and pulled out my old screwdriver. This was far from the first jacking I had done.
Getting back into the car, I began to pry the steel cover away. Asking Jungkook for a light, I waited while he pulled out his phone from the pocket of the red jacket. He was lucky no one had taken it. With the flashlight on, I turned the switch from off, past run, to start. The car came to life instantaneously. Waving the light away, I threw the screwdriver into the center console and placed the car in drive. Finally closing the driver’s side door, I peeled off into the night.
The radio came to life and Amy Winehouse sang loudly as I got onto the I-5.
“Til’ the chips were down
Know you were a gambling man.
Love is a losing hand.”
Jungkook was very quiet. I had just followed exit sounds and continued to drive toward Arizona. It was the least exciting state, and the people who lived there were far too judgemental outside of Phoenix, but it was the best way to get to the airport. That airport was far too big and strangely laid out that I knew we would be difficult to pick out in a crowd. Glazing over at Jungkook, he was holding the pack of cigarettes I had bought earlier.
“They’re for Jimin,” I suddenly said, switching lanes. “They were his favorite last time I saw him.”
“I think he’s smoking Camels now,” Jungkook replied.
“Can’t win them all.”
Sighing, I relaxed a bit more in my seat. So far, we have not been followed. Then again, I could be missing something. Tracking was not a strong suit of mine, and in my experience, the Russians were very, very evasive when they wanted to be. Still, I allowed myself a moment to breathe.
“How do you know the boys in Brighton?” Jungkook asked, voice quiet and soft.
I thought about it for a moment. It was a rather long story, but knowing that we were familiar with the same people made it feel easier. Deciding to probe him for information first, I formed a plan in my head on how to go about this conversation.
“Have you ever heard of the person called Pыбка?” I asked, my American accent showing through. It had been a very, very long time since I had spoken Russian, and even then it had always been a second language that I learned from my time with the Shulaya.
“Ivan’s girl, right? The one who was murdered a few years back? What about her?”
Sparing him a quick glance, I spoke.
“Do I look dead to you?”
Jimin and I had known one another longer than anyone else in The Saints. He had been the last person to join the crew, and was deep within the Shulaya before he went to Jersey to join Hoseok’s team. I would never forget the look on his face the first time he saw me, or the fact that it took him all of ten minutes to get fully committed to keeping me safe. Everyone called me Mouse. Jin had come up with it after joking about me being able to live in someone’s attic and they would never know. It caught on and it was the only name anyone on the streets knew about. The ‘Little Fish’ of Shulaya long forgotten after the first two years of hiding. However, it seemed like my face had been seen by somebody and Ivan was not happy about my disappearing act.
“Holy shit,” Jungkook said in awe. “We’re so fucked.”
I laughed, “Have some faith. Ivan is scary, but he’s also impulsive. I know him better than most and trust me- he doesn’t know how to keep his cool. Between Boston and NYC, I doubt he’ll get very far into their territory without raising hell.”
Jungkook made a strange noise.
“I’d be far more afraid of Yoongi than any of those Wiseguys.”
Scoffing, I saw the exit I needed to take in order to pull up at the last Holiday Inn before the long stretch of nothing at all. Jungkook seemed to see where my mind was going and began to look out of the window. After briefly going over what food options we had, we landed on Taco Bell.
Ordering our food was simple enough. Jungkook was a huge tomato hater and was very upset to find that his Crunch Wrap had been ‘ruined.’ The motel seemed to have a few quests and I hoped we could get a room. Jungkook offered to pay. The frontdesk lady was kind and found us a room within 5 minutes.
Using the elevator, I asked Jungkook if he still had the ‘thing’ with him. He nodded but said no more. It was probably better that way. Throwing my duffle bag onto my bed, I realized that Jungkook was still wearing a dress with the pants he had come inside in.
Digging through my bag, I found a pair of sweatpants that would fit him well enough as well as an oversized nightshirt I rarely ever wore. I usually slept naked. Tonight, I will try to make my partner feel comfortable.
Throwing the clothes on his bed, Jungkook perked up a bit and seemed to be fine with their sizes. I wondered if he had been wearing more uncomfortable clothes at one time and shook my head. He had walked into this motel wearing that. Yes, Y/N, he has definitely been far more uncomfortable than tightly sweats.
“You can take the bathroom first,” I pointed to the door. “You need it more than I do.”
Jungkook nodded, “Would you mind helping me get out of this thing? It still hurts to move my arms around too much.
Looking at him, I pinned him with an unimpressed look. We were not having one of those moments. Still looking at Jungkook, I unzipped the pouching with my switchblade in it and pulled the knife out. Walking to Jungkook, I quickly worked on the right side of the fabric. The left side was even quicker. Gently lifting his arm just enough to see his armpit, I cut the short sleeve from the bottom, following up with the top, and up the high neckline. Repeating it on the other side, the blood-soaked garment pooling to the floor.
Jungkook seemed frozen. Looking at his face, his eyes were wide and staring at the blade in my hand. Thinking he might be uncomfortable with me standing so close to him with a weapon, I walked back to my bed.
“If you need help getting the shirt on, just let me know.”
“Thanks,” Jungkook replied.
Picking up the spare clothes, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The water was on a few seconds later. Fully alone in the room, I looked around and decided to throw out the dress. With the torn up dress safely put away in my duffle, I tried to figure out what to do while I waited.
Taking Jungkook’s phone off of his bed (he used a flip phone just like Yoongi did on the job), I quickly found my way to the contacts. Hovering over Jimin’s number, I paused. Not thinking about it for too long, I pressed it and placed my phone to my ear. He answered quickly.
“Where are you?” Jimin asked, voice very low.
“Are you safe to talk?” I replied, voice just as low.
I could hear the way Jimin rolled his eyes, a small groan leaving his lips.
“I’m fine,” His voice was still soft. “I’m at a casino right now. Did you steal his phone?”
My blood ran cold. Most of our guys loved gambling, but Jimin had always thought it was a dumb pastime. I knew Ivan had been trying to expand the Russian influence in Los Angeles, and I hoped that he knew what he was doing. Jimin tended to run into situations without contemplating everything. Instead of grilling him, I decided to ease his worries.
“We’re safe. Heading east.” I looked around the room distractedly. “And no. I’m using it while he’s taking a shower.”
Jimin sighed in relief, “Kook is a good guy. He’ll keep you safe long enough to make it back to Boston. I’ll be on my way back in a few hours.”
It was better to keep things vague. Just like I had not said where we were headed, Jimin’s answer could mean anything. I heard Jungkook cry out but he was quiet soon after. I hoped the work I had done was keeping. I had told him to keep the stitches covered.
“See you soon,” I forced a smile on my face. “I got you a pack of cigarettes.”
Jimin laughed, though it sounded more forced than normal.
“Stay safe. I have to go.”
I hung up without another word. If he had to go then he had to go. The shower was still running and I was bored again. Looking at the door, I was tempted to walk around for a while. I had a feeling I would get myself into trouble if I did, but I was curious to see if I could get some extra clothes for Jungkook. Possibly a set of car keys, too. Looking at the bathroom door, I figured he was going to be there for a while.
“Fuck it,” I said under my breath.
Getting my room key, I slipped out of the room quietly.
The hallway was deserted, not a body in sight, but I had a feeling I could get something if I looked hard enough. Going to the elevator, I spotted a young couple laughing. Slowing my walk, I was happy to see that they were getting on the elevator.
Angling my body, I was practically jumping up and down when my eye caught on their room key. This would be too easy. The elevator chimed signaling someone was getting off. Quickly moving my body, I relied on their clinginess to sneak into the corridor without a problem. A group of people pooled out of the elevator and I drifted into their numbers.
The couple stood to the side and waited for us to pass. Using my foot, I tripped a young woman in front of me. She stumbled while I placed myself in a position to trip over her. The both of us dropped. The woman fell into the man. Falling, I shuffled closer to the man’s hand while the woman began apologizing profusely.
Quickly snatching the card from him, I slipped it into my pocket while I stood up. Adjusting my clothes, I quickly apologized as well. The couple waved the both of us off, seemingly unbothered, before getting on the elevator. Nodding to the woman, I turned toward the way the couple had come from. Looking at the keycard, I made my way toward the door with the number on it. I was lucky the woman and I had similar hair styles, but I was aware of Holiday Inn well enough to say that most of their cameras did not work.
Glancing up at the camera in the middle of the hallway, I was positive it was not working. Typically there would be a small, red dot that showed it was recording. Today, it was off. Letting myself in, I knew I had to be quick and clean.
Tonight I would only get clothes. Car keys were something I would have to snatch in the morning over breakfast. Someone would notice their keys missing in the middle of the night. Locating a large, black suitcase on the floor by the foot of the bed, I pulled it up onto the bed and unzipped it.
Carefully sifting through the clothes, I only pulled out enough for two outfits before gently placing everything back smoothly. They would probably be a bit big on Jungkook, but I doubted he would mind very much. I swore he was wearing a belt, but I had not been paying enough attention to know for sure.
Going to the pockets of the bag, I was happy to find a container of hair pomade and hoped it might make Jungkook happy. He would be able to do his hair if he wanted. Grabbing a pack of hair bands and a pair of boxers, I was ready to leave. Going into the dresser, I pulled out the complimentary bag they gave every guest, I shoved the clothes in it before leaving the room. With the keycard in my hand, I dropped it in the spot the couple had been before making my way back to my own room.
Jungkook was sitting on his bed drying his hair when I came in. He was wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt I had given him. I was glad he was able to get it on alone, but I felt bad I had not been here to help him. Holding up the bag, I tossed it his way.
“The first robbery I’ve done in four years,” I shook my head. “You should feel special.”
Jungkook opened the bag and grinned at me. His hair went just past his shoulders when it was wet, his fluffy curls weighed down by the water. Sifting through the bag, he seemed the happiest about the hair ties.
Getting my own clothes, I let him know I was going to take a shower. Getting under the hot water was a healing experience, and for the first time today I let a few tears slip out.
I was terrified, frustrated, but mostly- pissed.
Twelve years ago
Hands bound, I let my body relax. Ivan’s eyes were blazing, his anger palpable, but I refused to look away. He would never think I was weak again. Walking closer, the Russian yanked me up roughly, one of the straps of my sundress breaking.
“What the fuck did you do?” He seethed, his accent thick and almost incoherent through gritted teeth. “You always ruin everything you touch.”
Slowly, and with great care, I pooled spit into my mouth. With a quick gurgle, I spit in Ivan’s eye. My rebellion had angered just as much as it had excited Ivan. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible, his hands burning my skin. Slamming me down, Ivan roared in anger before delivering a swift kick to my stomach.
Gasping, I tried my hardest to keep the vomit down. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I wished I was with Alexei. He would never have treated me like this. As if the thought had transferred over to the man beside me, he kicked me again.
“Alexei is dead, Лох,” He shouted. “You’re mine now.”
With another swift kick, I cried out. Then, without warning my stomach twisted. Another kick. Finally, I threw up all over the concrete floor beneath me.
For now. I was yours for now.
Present
With a new set of car keys in my hand, I walked into the parking lot. Jungkook was on the phone, but quickly hung up when he saw me approaching. Raising an eyebrow at him, I waved him over and we began walking together. Clicking the unlock button, I smiled when I saw the yellow Porsche. The two of us placed our things inside without a care in the world and drove off quickly after.
I had found the targets for today the night before while walking around the hotel late last night. It was a young woman and her mother. The two of them had been a whirlwind and gave the staff hell. Unable to sleep, my head headaches from exhaustion, and their bickering only pissed me off more. Unfortunately for them, they had made a big show of their money and decided to brag about their car.
It took a few minutes to switch out license plates and even less time to steal her car keys this morning during breakfast. They were staying for another day and had not planned on leaving the hotel at all. Jungkook laughed once we were a safe distance away.
“I’m still in shock at that woman’s entitlement,” He shook his head. “Did you see the way she flipped out when they ran out of bacon before her ‘precious angel’ could get any?”
Chuckling, I kept my attention on the road.
“Her attitude was the only reason I swiped this thing. I would never get into something so obvious.”
“It was as easy as stealing candy from a baby.”
Feeling confident from the jacking, I decided to play along.
“Do you steal from babies often?”
Jungkook giggled cutely, “I’ve cut down to twice a year.”
“Oh?”
“Halloween-” He counted with one finger, and lifted another, “-and Easter.”
“Easter?” My eyebrows pulled in as I laughed incredulously.
Jungkook grinned lazily.
“Stockings are so last year.”
It was becoming increasingly more difficult to think of him as a member of the mafia. While my age had made others test my abilities far more often than the others I never believed anyone doubted who I was. There was a look in your eye, this coldness, that separated you from the rest. I could pick out a killer in a line up- we were one in the same. However, Jungkook was impossible to get a read on. His boyish charms and good looks were not uncommon, but the innocence in his smile and the brightness that remained in his eyes were unsettling. Everything about him was unnerving. He was disarming and that alone was frightening.
Realizing the car had become quiet, I turned the radio on. It was a habit of mine. I did not like the silence. I hated it. Some trashy pop song blasted but I did not care. Jungkook did and began to look for something he liked more.
“What do you like?” He asked, pressing the screen to change the stations.
“Pick whatever,” I replied, flipping off the guy who cut me off.
Arizona was the worst state I had ever been to. The drive was not as awful as Texas, nothing will ever beat the twelve hours of hell to still be in that damned state, but it was not much better. Outside of Phoenix the towns were not as grand. Tucson gave her a run for her money, but never came close to the busy city. Driving through the desert, I asked Jungkook to pull up the directions to the airport. I no longer knew my way.
“How did you meet the guys?” I asked, eyes on the road.
Jungkook picked a pop station and leaned back in his seat.
“Through Jimin,” He replied. “They needed help dealing with someone. I had just left New York and we ran into each other in Vegas. I liked everyone so I decided to join.”
Raising an eyebrow, I quickly turned my head so he could see my expression.
“Ivan let you leave?”
“I wasn’t a member,” Jungkook mumbled. “Just an acquaintance. I was for hire.”
That was not what I had expected. Jungkook did not seem like a killer, but I had been proven wrong many times. When I lived with my parents I had met many assassins I would have never guessed who they were just looking at them. Even talking with them it was impossible to detect. Looking at the man, I found it hard to believe that we were from the same background. While I had ran from that life, Jungkook ran toward it with open arms. In fact, he seemed to pay it little mind.
“What family are you from?” I asked. “My family was under The Table.”
Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up.
“You’re from the Underground?”
I nodded, “I never really wanted that life. I’m a much better thief anyway.”
Jungkook rubbed his bottom lip. I forced myself to focus on the road. Even if we were the only people out here, I did not want to risk anything. I had stolen the car and the plate and getting stuck out here would be hell.
“I’m with Sacarii.”
The Sacarii was the sister organization to The Table. While my family had mostly dealt with members of gangs and high profile families, members of the Sacarii were the people who went after other assassins. Stealing another look at Jungkook, I looked at the tattoos on his arm and tried to find his symbol. All of us got one, mine was a tiger on my right side, but the ink was too difficult to look at while driving.
“I have a tiger lily,” Jungkook said, noticing my assessment. “I have a few of them, actually.”
Lilies are from Japan, but I knew Jungkook was Korean. His name alone gave him away. Waving my hand, I asked him to explain when he got it.
“My family moved to Japan when I was fifteen. I had my first kill there so we decided that I would get something to represent that. The prayer hands on my back were done by the organization after the ordainment.”
Ordainments were very common. It was the process an assassin went through to become an official member of their organization. Their families were no longer defined by blood but the common experiences each one shared. The Table and the Sacarii were one big family, but oftentimes we did not get along with one another. Civil at best and competition at worst. Prayer hands with a rosary were the tattoos everyone got. It was large, covering the entire center of the back, with the family oath written above and below it.
“I never got mine,” I admitted. “I ran off before my ceremony. That’s when I met Alexei.”
“How old were you?”
Smiling sadly, I replied. “Thirteen.”
“Oh,” He said. “I didn’t know they got people that young.”
“Well, he saw me kill someone and wanted to keep me. I doubt you knew him- he died a few years ago.”
Jungkook nodded, “Yeah. What was he like?”
Laughing, I spotted a gas station and decided to stop. We were at half a tank, but I wanted to be safe. Jungkook took out his wallet and handed me a twenty.
“He was a better man than his brother,” I answered, taking the money. “He knew how to stay calm and respect other people. Alexei always kept good relationships with the other families. Ivan is an idiot who can’t handle criticisms of any kind.”
“He’s that awful? I mean, I only know him through brief meetings.”
“I’d rather be dead than serve him again,” I opened my door. “But you already know that.”
Settling in my seat, I glanced over at Jungkook. He looked tired and I let him know it was fine to sleep. He nodded and slipped his eyes closed shortly after. Taking my new phone out of my pocket, I decided to make a quick phone call before we took off. Jungkook and I had picked up a flip phone from Walmart on our way to the airport. It was more secure than any smartphone. Dialing the number, I waited.
“Hello?” Hoseok picked up.
“I’m landing in Massachusetts,” I replied, knowing he was aware of the situation by now. It had been a day and a half. “Pick me up at our spot.”
“Jin will be there.”
“Copy.”
Hoseok sighed heavily, “Is the kid okay? Heard you shook him up.”
Glancing at Jungkook, I was shocked he was snoring.
“He’s fine,” I replied. “He’s definitely in pain, and tries to keep his movement to a minimum, but hides it from me. Attempts to, I should say. I took care of him as best I could but Agust should get his hands on his ASAP.”
Hoseok hummed and I knew he was nodding. He was a very animated, lively person and could not sit still for long. He got into a fist fight with a Russian who took offense to his hand movements.
“See you when I see you.”
“Three o’clock,” I said before hanging up.
Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I finally buckled my seat. Shaking Jungkook awake, I told him to put his belt on. He grinned at me lazily before doing it. He fell asleep again quickly.
Happy to have a window seat, I watched as we began to take off. It had been a while since I was on a plane. The last time was when I was running to California as quickly as I could. Kansas had been nice when I had first left The Saints, but it quickly became suffocating. The silence and mundane town life made my skin crawl. California had seemed like it would be better, more fun, but it had become just as mundane after a while.
I had always gotten bored easily. It was why I enjoyed pickpocketing. As a kid, my little hands and unassuming looks had made it easy. I never planned on getting good at it. At the time it felt less damning in comparison to what the people in my life wanted me to do.
There was a time when I was happy killing, pleasing my family had always felt good, but that faded when my teenage years approached. Running away to New York was a quick, impulsive decision I had made when I was afraid of my future. Staring at the clear, blue sky, I scoffed.
I had run away from one hell into another. I went from that one into another. The Saints were my family, but I would be lying if I said I felt they were any different from what I had always done. Kansas had been my first attempt at normalcy, and San Diego had been me living in that world.
And I loved it, in my own way. It was nice to have a routine. It felt good to have friends, even if they were the most surface level friendships I could allow myself to have, and I owned my own things. I had earned what I had.
Now I was flying back to a place I was not sure I belonged anymore. I felt two halves of myself fighting one another. One half wanted to run again, to disappear, and get as far away from this place as possible. Then there was the other side of me, the twisted, dark, nasty side of myself that was reveling in all of this. My excitement was hard for me to figure out, and I began to doubt myself.
Had I ever really wanted this life? Has it all been a dream? A fantasy of a perfectly serene, normal, and legal lifestyle I had never known? Finding a cloud, I rubbed my temples and sighed.
I doubted I would ever have an answer to that question.
Five years ago
Standing around the table, all of us went over the plan again. They were doing construction on the roof, so that would be the quickest, and easiest, point of entrance. I would go first while Hoseok and Jin dressed as police officers to take out the security guards in the back. Taehyung would take care of the cameras before this. Yoongi would follow behind me along with Jimin. I would lead the team after we had taken over the museum.
Looking over at Jimin, he was already looking at me. Everyone knew that this would be my last mission, and he had taken it the worst. We hardly spoke and he actively ignored me. I was surprised he was acknowledging me at all. Breaking eye contact, I went back to explaining the pieces we would be taking.
“Don was very specific about these three pieces,” I said, pointing to the Rembrandt and two pieces of jewelry. “These are our high payouts. Get these first. After that we can make quick work of the rest.”
“Who did you say the others were going to?” Yoongi asked.
“The rest are split up between some vendors I know,” I replied. “Freddie Newman, Diane Pollack, and Dwayne Smith. The jewels are for Georgie Boy, Archie, and two others. Park’s handling that.”
“This is a big job,” Hoseok mumbled. “Will the six of us be able to get it done?”
I nodded easily.
“Yes, we’ll have all the time in the world once those guards are taken care of. I’m planning on this being an hour- two at most.”
Looking back at Jimin, I was happy to see he was grinning at me. We would be fine. Deciding we had gone over everything, I walked away from the table.
“We’ll leave at midnight.”
“Copy,” Jimin replied.
Smiling to myself, I left the room and went to the kitchen to find something to eat.
Getting off the plane, I kept Jungkook close as we made our way to baggage claim. Being on the East Coast again was uncomfortable. I knew this airport like the back of my hand, knew every nook and cranny of these streets, but I still felt out of place. I was even more unsettled knowing there were people looking for me.
Standing by the conveyor belt, we waited for my duffle bag to come out. Jungkook looked around, his scouting looking natural, and I kept my eyes on the bags. It came out a few minutes later, and I slung it over my shoulder. Jungkook wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him.
“They’re here,” He whispered, a soft smile on his face. Lips brushing the top of my head, he started walking and kept me close. “They don’t know me, so we’ll be fine.”
Forcing a smile on my face, I wrapped my arm around his waist. My heartbeat quickened, and I found myself enjoying the way his body pressed into mine. Allowing myself a small glance around us, I saw two familiar faces near the escalators. Dimitri and Anton. As we neared the escalators, I knew they would notice me unless I acted very differently than what they remembered.
Deciding to commit to our charade, I lifted my head up towards Jungkook. Kissing his cheek, I was able to hide my face from the two men. Jungkook stepped onto the elevator first. Turning him to face me, I grabbed his face and pressed our lips together. He was soft, gentle, and tasted like the licorice he’d gotten on the plane. He wrapped his arms around my waist and melted into the kiss. Pulling away, head pressed against his, I looked at the steps.
“We’re almost at the top,” I mumbled.
Jungkook nodded and slowly moved away from me. Angling his body towards the front, he kept an arm firmly around my waist as we got to the top. Sparing a single glance behind me, the two men were none the wiser. Smirking, I ran my hand up and down Jungkook’s back in silent praise.
Walking further and further away from the others, Jungkook’s arm did not move. I stayed close to his side, happy to have someone to lean on. It made sense now. Jimin sent him because he was less known to the others. Ivan would know him, and the people closest to him, but someone like Anton would be blindsided by his presence. They were expecting one of my boys. Stepping into the sun, the two of us were quick to hail down a taxi and slip inside.
“We’re running a bit late,” I announced, buckling in. “Can you take us to the Hood Milk Bottle?”
“No problem,” The cab driver replied.
It was barely a 10 minute drive, but airport traffic made it feel like forever. Jungkook and I did not talk. Our closeness from earlier was officially stopped, and I felt silly for missing his warmth. Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I grew shy. Just moments ago, his arms were wrapped around me. Catching sight of the tiger lily on his elbow, I had to quickly look back out of the window.
God, he was fucking hot.
Pulling out my phone, I found a new message on it.
Unknown: Eating a lobster roll outside
Rolling my eyes, I replied.
Y/N: Of course you are. Two minutes.
Unknown: Lunch on me
Flipping the phone closed, I shoved it back in my back pocket. Looking out of the window, I did feel nostalgic. It had been such a long time and yet things stayed the same. There were a few new shops where old ones used to be, but the places I remembered the most fondly were still around. The mixed feelings I had were beginning to weigh down on me.
Pulling up, I smiled. Hood was such an iconic, fun place. Looking back at Jungkook, I was touched to see him paying the cabby. Saying goodbye, the two of us got out of the car. The duffle had been in my lap. Jungkook stared up at the giant milk bottle in awe.
“Jin said he'll buy us lunch.”
Jungkook smirked, “What do you recommend?”
Walking toward the snack stand, I shrugged my shoulders.
“I’m getting a lobster roll, but if you’re not into that, the soft serve is great.”
Walking around the side, I saw Jin sitting on one of the picnic benches eating. I was more surprised to see he was still enjoying his food than the purple hair. Jimin must have convinced him to do that. Whistling, I smirked at Jin and waved.
Jin was the oldest out of all of us, and spoke the least amount of English, but we were close. Standing, he offered me a hug which I happily accepted. Clearing my throat, I began speaking in Korean.
“You look nice,” I ruffled his hair. “This color looks really good on you.”
“Thanks,” He shoved my hand away. “Lobster roll? Thought you might have missed the New England taste.”
Nodded, I turned to Jungkook.
“What do you want?” I asked in English.
He shook his head at me, “Chocolate ice cream.”
When he spoke Korean, his voice was much deeper. Grinning at him, I looked back at Jin.
“One lobster roll and one chocolate soft serve.”
Going to order our food, Jin told us to sit and wait. Jungkook sat down next to me, his elbow on the table with his head resting on his fist. I was unsure of what to make of the look on his face. He seemed so… fond of me. No one had ever really looked at me like that before. I was used to anger, annoyance, or fear, but fondness was uncharted territory. The closest person I could think of had been Alexi, but even then he had always looked at me as a child. Jungkook did not.
“I didn’t know you spoke Korean,” He said, speaking the language.
“I know a lot of languages,” I replied. “I’m mostly fluent in English and Russian. My Korean is good, but I’m not fluent by any stretch of the imagination. I speak a decent amount of Spanish as well.”
“That’s so cool. Mine are Korean, Japanese, and English.”
Jin was back with our food.
“Eat it in the car,” He said, “Everyone is waiting for us.”
“Is Park back in town?” Jungkook asked.
Jin shook his head, “Not yet. We haven’t heard from since yesterday.”
I knew we would talk more once we were out of the public eye. There was only so much we could say out here. Taking my roll, I followed Jin. Jungkook ate his ice cream happily, his eyes sparkling with joy. It was my turn to smile fondly.
Pulling into a small driveway, I was confused. I did not recognize the house. Painted a calming sky blue with black shutters, a well-groomed lawn, and a small flower garden, it was unassuming and plain. Looking over at Jungkook, he seemed happy to be here.
“Where are we?” I asked.
Jungkook smiled at me, “Yoongi’s.”
Taken aback, I froze. That had been the last person I had thought of. The last time I had seen everyone, Yoongi and Hoseok were living in a shitty condo in South End. While I was confused, and even unsettled, by the changes I was also pleased. It felt good to see Yoongi living more civilly. I wondered what had changed.
Hopping out of the Jeep, I met up with Jin and Jungkook at the hood before following behind them. The house was pristine and the small cul de sac was quiet. Eyes bulging out of my head, I fought back the urge to laugh out loud at the sight of a bird feeder on the edge of the lawn.
Standing on the small porch, the three of us huddled close together. Jungkook gently moved my body in front of his, successfully shielding my body from the street. Leaning back slightly, I brushed my back against his chest quickly before straightening my back. I was beginning to lean into my growing attraction, but knew better than to take it any further than small touches. The airport had been for survival- nothing more.
Jin knocked, the rhythm the only familiar thing about this place, before the door swung open. On the other side, a woman peered out at us. Her hair was short, wildly frizzy with unkempt curls, and bright red. Her eyes were brown and skin alabaster. The green dress she wore looked nice on her full figure. She smiled brightly at Jin, saying hello with joy. Her voice had hints of an accent but it was too faint for me to pick up.
“It’s nice to see you Johanna,” Jin greeted, kissing the woman’s cheek before gesturing towards me. “Johanna, Mouse. Mouse, Johanna.”
The red head gave me a polite smile before offering her hand.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mouse.”
“Y/N,” I corrected, glaring at Jin. “Y/N is fine outside of business.”
“This is business though, isn’t it?” Johanna tilted her head at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. I decided right away that I liked her. “Come in. Hello Kookie.”
“Hey Jo,” The man replied.
Stepping inside, I looked around. The inside was just as perfect as the outside. Brightly colored walls with pops of color scattered around, mostly in the art hanging on the walls, with plants everywhere. It smelled like apple cinnamon and Pinesol. The hardwood floors were loud as we walked along them. The size of the living room was bigger than my entire apartment. Catching sight of a collage of photos, I looked over them the best I could as I walked.
All of them were nice photos, family photos, but one caught my eye. Yoongi was smiling, a rare sight, and his eyes were shining brightly. He was on the beach, arms wrapped around Johanna tenderly, while she had a large bouquet of flowers in her hand. She wore a white dress that hit her just at the ankle, a long, thin veil clipped onto the back of her head. The Saints were there along with a few people I did not recognize. Belatedly, I realized that I was looking at a wedding picture. A wedding I had missed. A wedding I had never been invited to. A wedding I had never even knew. Eyes glued to the photo, I cause a glimpse of Jungkook in a far-off corner, almost completely cut out, but he had been there.
I knew my hurt feelings were unjustified. I had been the one who told them to leave me out of their affairs. I had said emergencies only. Still, I found myself growing increasingly alienated. I truly had no place here anymore. The only purpose I had ever served was monetary gain. The friendships I had built along the way were as fickle as the ones I had in New York.
Arguing with myself, I struggled to stay present. As we walked deeper into the house, the need to run presented itself all over again. Everything I had known was gone. Everyone was different. Everything was different. Sparing a glance over at Jungkook, a seed of resentment began to grow in my chest.
No one had ever referred to me as affectionately as they had Jungkook. No one had ever seemed endeared by my failures. Hell, none of these guys even acknowledged my feelings half the time. Staring at the back of Johanna’s head, I found that I didn't really like her that much anymore. She was loved. I was tolerated.
Still, I told myself that they had come for me. They had wanted to keep me safe. And yet, the insecurities that had always lived in my head reared their ugly head and reminded me that it was for their own good. I was useful. As long as I would be of use to them, then I would be protected. It would never be the same reasons they would fight for Johanna. They would fight for her because they wanted to keep her safe.
I could feel eyes on me, but I ignored them. I did not want comfort from Jungkook. I just wanted to get this over with so I could go back to San Diego. Even if they were surface level, those friendships were still more loving than whatever the fuck I had here. I hated Boston. I hated New York. I hated the entire East Coast.
“Y/N?” Johanna called out, looking back at me with concern. “Are you alright?”
Nodding, I replied.
“I’m fine. Just lost in my head.”
I hated the edge my voice had taken on. I hated just how much I had to control myself around these people. I wanted to scream, shout, cry; whatever. I just wanted to feel myself lose control for a little while. The woman did not believe me but offered me a smile regardless.
“I asked if you would like a drink.”
“Water’s fine,” I replied.
Jin seemed suspicious of me but said nothing at all. He had always known I liked my space. Still, I could tell he was worried. I knew my thoughts were out of line, I knew that I was over thinking and attempting to overcompensate, but it was impossible to stop it from happening. The downward spiral was difficult to manage.
Suddenly, an arm was wrapped around my shoulder. Jumping, I whipped my head around to see Jungkook smiling at me. It was a goofy smile, one that he pulled when he was feeling playful, before he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“What happens when you get water on a table?” He asked.
Taken aback, I opened and closed my mouth several times.
“What?”
“It becomes a pool table.”
Mouth agape, I blinked in disbelief before shoving him away. I let out a small laugh and shook my head at him. Where in the world had that come from?
Seokjin was laughing, hands clapping, and praising the younger man for the joke. Jin was a big fan of dad jokes and enjoyed making them up whenever he could. Typically, you would have to know enough Korean for them to make sense, but they never failed to get a few chuckles out of me. The ridiculousness of the jokes coupled with the corny delivery was always funny. Johanna placed a glass in front of me smiling fondly at Jungkook.
“He’s a mess,” She said, looking at me in faux exasperation. “I don’t know how you survived the trip here. He talks too much.”
Shaking my head, I took a large sip of the water.
“It’s better than the awkward silence Yoongi brings along.”
She laughed, knocking her head back.
“Touche,” She giggled. “He is a bit intense sometimes.”
“You’ve been in Boston for an hour and you’re already turning my wife against me.”
The voice had come from behind me. Spinning around dumbly, I was face-to-face with Yoongi. The scar on his face was just as prominent as it had always been, taking up his entire left cheek into forehead, but his eyes seemed lighter than I remembered. He was skinnier than the last time I saw him, too. He was wearing a simple black shirt with a pair of jeans. He seemed completely at ease.
“Hey kid,” He greeted Jungkook with a grin. “Heard Mouse got you good.”
Jungkook flushed, ducking his head while rubbing his neck.
“Oh?” Jin chimed, his voice mocking. “The great Sacarii taken down by a little mouse?”
Rolling my eyes, I sighed heavily.
“He didn’t even try anything,” I admitted. “I was the aggressive one.”
“He was just an idiot,” Jin teased.
Yoongi tsked, “Park was the bigger idiot of the two. He’s going to give me an aneurysm.”
“You’re too hard on him,” Johanna gently scolded. “You know Jimin has a roundabout way of being right.”
Jungkook laughed, “A broken clock’s right twice a day.”
A silence fell over our group. It felt unnatural to be standing in a nice kitchen talking over mundane topics with everyone. It was a long ways away from the roach infested alleyways and closed off apartment complexes. I lived with Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung when I was in Boston. Our small one bedroom was always cluttered, overcrowded, and was the main spot for our meetups. The conference room had been stuffed between two twin-sized mattresses with a large, round table in the middle of it all. I slept on the pull-out sofa in the front.
“I guess we should talk,” Yoongi said, looking me up and down.
“I guess so,” I replied.
Walking over to him, I realized that no one else was following. Looking back at the other three, they simply looked back. Sighing, I let it go. Being alone with Yoongi was not an unwelcome thing, but it had always made me feel like I was in trouble. Laughing at myself, I followed the man out of the kitchen and into the dining room. This time I was the one who was in trouble.
Walking out of the dining room, we were now in a small reading room with a staircase. A green, stand-up piano was tucked away between tall bookshelves and more plants. Following Yoongi upstairs, I refrained from looking too closely at things. The house was much bigger than it looked. Walking past a few doors, we stopped before Yoongi opened one.
Gesturing me to follow, I smiled at the sight of the old table. It was far too large, held six chairs, and was cheaply made. Someone had refurbished it and I wondered if it had been Johanna. She seemed to like everything to be nice and neat. It was an aesthetically pleasing layout, but this room was all Yoongi. The dark colored walls and furniture were in stark contrast to the otherwise white house. Taking a seat at the table, I pulled out the chair directly across from him.
There was a line up of photos scattered on the desk along with a few letters. I recognized two of the women but the others were unfamiliar to me. Looking around, I scowled when I saw a picture of Ivan. I would be lying if I said he was physically unattractive. Ivan had always had this air around him and coupled with his angular features and blue eyes it was no wonder why women chased him. I knew him, however, and the slope of his cheekbones and the perfectly groomed dirty-blonde hair did nothing but repulse me. He looked everything like his brother. He looked nothing like his brother.
Picking the photo up, I looked closely. It was candid. Someone had been hiding when they took it since the man seemed to be unaware of the camera. He was smoking a cigarette and behind him was a beach. Trying to figure out where he could be was hard, but it was nowhere near New York. It was too sunny, the waves too high, and I could see a surfer in the background.
“Johanna took that,” Yoongi suddenly said. “We were in California. It’s where we got married.”
Mind racing, I kept looking at the picture. Ivan had been close to me. Very close, in fact. Trying to figure out how I could have been traced, I thought of Kimberly and winced. It would take no time at all to figure out if it really was me. He could just send some random into the salon after seeing a post. I looked different but I was still me. He could have scouted out the place for months without me being any wiser. Closing my eyes, I dropped the photo.
“He’s known where you are for a while,” He continued. “He had asked Jungkook to take care of you a few weeks ago, but the kid refused. He knew your face. Ivan’s been trying to figure out the best plan of getting to you without pissing us off.”
“So he thought forcing me back to New York was the best option?” I spat.
Yoongi nodded, “In his mind, you’d be under his claim again so we’d have no authority. Either he’s crazy or stupid.”
“Both,” I replied. “Always both.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Eyes searching the pictures for more signs, I grew angry.
“Why are you only just now telling me?” I demanded, picking apart each detail of the photographs. “I should have known from the very beginning.”
“I thought so, too,” Yoongi defended. “It was Jimin telling us to cool it. He thought he could get it under control since he’s known Ivan for so long. It didn’t work out and Jimin was kicked out of the family.”
“What?” I shouted.
Ivan was losing his damn mind. Jimin was the closest thing to Alexi those boy had after Ivan took over. They loved him, I loved him, and to watch him get kicked out over me would have been a massive blow to Ivan’s credibility. Loyalty was gone from New York it seemed, and it would only be a matter of time before Ivan came to the same conclusion. They don’t make them like Jimin anymore. He was only trying to keep the peace. Thinking of my friend, I willed back my tears. He had wanted me to stay in California. He didn’t want me to come back.
“They’re not doing well,” Yoongi admitted. “Georgie Boy and I talked and he’s with us regardless. The Italians haven’t been appreciating Ivan’s ways either. Hoseok spoke with the Gambinos and they said they’ll light up the Russians if they get into their territory again.”
“Again?”
Yoongi smiled without humor.
“Ivan’s boys were selling in the Gambino’s turf. Didn’t end well for them. They aren’t going to tolerate that shit again, and the other families are on the lookout as well. Have to say, the boy has lost his fucking mind.”
Going over the information, I felt more confident than I had before. Ivan was hoping to get me back into his arms first. Then he’d kill me. Or keep me. It was impossible to know for sure. Either way, he had a rude awakening if he thought my boys were going to let it happen without consequences. Thinking back to my thoughts when I first came inside, I reminded myself that we were connected. I meant more to them than property. They weren’t Ivan.
They weren’t Alexei either.
Shoving that thought down, I refocused on the photo of Ivan. He looked worse than I had last seen him. His age was beginning to show, and I sneered at the sight of the family tattoo. I had been claimed by many groups in my life. The tiger for my family, the slope-edged star on my collar bone for Alexei, the clerk on my ribs for my skill with a blade, and St. Anthony for The Saints. Ivan’s name had been cut into my skin by the man himself after I killed a rival without permission. The scars were faded now, but I never liked to show my stomach anymore. You could still see the carving and I would always know they were there.
Eyes zeroing in on Ivan’s calf, I saw red as I caught sight of the dagger entwined by a snake. It was in the same spot as mine. They all represented something.
The star was commonplace for all Russians while my clerk was far more specialized. I got it after I helped Alexei take care of a snitch. I hated thinking about that night, but it earned me my stripes. I got my dagger a few months later. The dagger was rare, only given out to a leader of a “suit” of thieves. Alexi had promoted me, and I controlled my own section of New York alongside him. Ivan did not deserve that tattoo even if he was the boss.
“Can I ask you something?” Yoongi said.
I nodded.
“Why would he want you back so badly? He hates you.”
I smiled ruefully, looking up from the picture.
“I’m Alexei’s girl and he finds great pleasure in keeping me around just to spite him. Even if he’s dead, it’ll never be enough. Breaking me down was always the goal.”
“Were you and Alexei…”
Yoongi did not need to finish the sentence. It was a fair question and one that everyone asked at some point. The Saints never liked picking into my past too much. They knew it had been rough, they knew what Ivan and I’s relationship was like, so they put it to rest. Yoongi had seen my stomach once, said he was going to kill him one day, and never brought it up again. Latching onto the memory, I further reinforced that they cared for me. This was not a dangerous place. These are my friends.
“No, Alexei would never. I was only 13 when we met. He was 19. We were like siblings more than anything. More than he and Ivan ever were.”
“Ivan was jealous?” I nodded. “Typical.”
“He’s the one who killed him, you know,” I leaned back in the chair. “I was there that night. That’s why Ivan hates me. I know too much.”
Yoongi shook his head in disbelief. It was a completely different world than he was used to. The Irish took care of their own. While it may have involved violence and punishments being handed out from time to time, there had always been unwavering loyalty to one another. For Hoseok it was the same. Snitches were snitches but you always had people you knew were on your corner. When Ivan saw an in he took it, even if it meant killing his older brother, and everyone suffered for it. I had not said anything out of the code of ethics we built, but that never stopped word from spreading. Everyone knew Ivan killed Alexei but no one could prove it.
Yoongi sucked his teeth, “They know you came home. Jimin let us know about that. He and Kai have been all over this shit.”
I hummed, “They had a couple guys at the airport. Jungkook and I got past them easily, though.”
Yoongi looked at me strangely now. It was in between concern and pride, but I figured it was the closest thing to friendly I would get from him. It was not his fault his face looked the way it did. Wanting to lighten the mood, I decided to ask him about his wife.
“So, who’s Johanna?”
Yoongi actually cracked a smile.
“She’s a nuclear engineer. Works at BU and moved to America seven years ago.”
“How’d that even happen?”
Yoongi shrugged, “I don’t even know. We met at a restaurant Georgie took me to. She was there with some friends. We bumped into one another and she gave me her number. I didn’t call but we ran into each other again at a bar. Stuck like glue ever since.”
Gently smiling I replied, “Sounds nice. I’m glad you found someone.”
Yoongi looked down bashfully. He was like an entirely new person now. Yoongi had never been one to show emotions outside of anger and annoyance. Even with us he had been a hardass. It was strange but nice at the same time. I liked it more than the robot I was used to.
“She’s a good person,” He whispered, suddenly serious. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have left her alone. She deserves better than a life of crime and being entangled in my bullshit.”
I understood where he was coming from.
“You could always leave. Runaway to Iceland and never look back.”
Yoongi grinned, “I thought about it but I don’t have any skills outside of this. What would I do? Unlike you, some of us have never thought past our horizons. Besides, I have other people to think about.”
I also understood that as well. I had been afraid of change for a long time, and I had known I wanted it for a while. I was unsure how long they had known one another, or had been together, but Yoongi had always said he’d die in Boston. I doubted he thought that way now.
“It’s okay to be selfish,” I mumbled. “Things haven’t been easy and there were times when I missed the craziness, but I can say it’s an experience everyone should have. I love both of my lives, but I’d be lying if I said I’d choose this over California.”
Yoongi nodded in thought. We would drop this conversation and likely never pick it back up again, so I knew I should say my peace now. Whatever he decided to do would ultimately be on his shoulders, but I thought it would be okay to push him to follow his heart’s desires. I was a dreamer and I hoped the others would find a dream to hold onto as well.
Walking downstairs, I was tired. The traveling had finally caught up to me and I wanted to get some rest while I could. Walking into the kitchen, the three of them were still talking. Johanna had started to cook something. It smelled nice but my stomach churned at the thought of food. Making my presence known, I yawned loudly and stretched my arms above my head.
“Sleepy?” Jungkook asked, completely at ease.
He looked right at home here. Briefly I wondered if he stayed here often enough for that to be the case. Yoongi hated other people in his space, but he had changed since I last saw him. Jungkook, however, did not seem like someone who would like living with other people. He was mostly quiet, sweet, but standoffish at times. Jin grinned at me.
“Sorry to say I’m full,” The older man took a sip from a glass. I could not tell what it was and did not care to know. I rubbed my eyes dramatically and yawned again. “Jimin and I are rooming together. I doubt you want to take the sofa. Let’s just say I’ve been taking advantage of his absence.”
“I’ll take what I can get at this point,” I replied with another yawn. Shaking my head, I groaned. “God, I hate it when that happens.”
“Jungkook can keep you,” Johanna offered. “I’d let you stay here but my niece is spending the weekend. I don’t want to put her in a bad position.”
I knew what she meant. I would not want to put a child in the middle of this bullshit either. Looking over at Jungkook, I raised my eyebrow in silent questioning. He nodded back at me with a grin. I smiled back at him.
“We should go while we have daylight,” Jungkook said, a pair of keys in his hands.
I had no idea where they had come from.
“I can wait,” I protested. “You should eat first.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes.
“I’ll be fine. You haven’t slept since yesterday.”
“Y/N!” Jin scolded.
I non committedly waved him off. Scrunching my face up at Jin, I mumbled something close to ‘leave me alone,’ but I was doubtful it came out properly. Fighting to keep my eyes open, I leaned into Jungkook’s side as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Guiding me away from the kitchen, I knew I heard Jin make a comment about how close we were.
“You’re just jealous she likes me more than you,” Jungkook snapped back.
“Does not,” Jin replied, childishly whining.
Johanna laughed and I could hear Yoongi coming down the stairs. Jungkook lead me back into the reading room and turned left. Going down two steps we were in front of a door.
“Be safe!” Johanna called out.
“Always, noona,” Jungkook replied.
Leading me to the room, I realized we were in a garage. I was again surprised. There were two cars, both of them very nice and sleek, surrounded by expensive tools and equipment. Back in the day, I would have swiped everything in this room and stole one of the cars. Now, I was being led toward the black Marcedes on the farthest side of the room.
“This one’s mine,” Jungkook said, attempting to fill the space.
“First one we haven’t stolen,” I joked.
Sliding into the passenger seat, I melted into the seat before Jungkook was in the vehicle. Opening the glovebox, I moved my legs out of the way as the man dug around the compartment. Finally he pulled a smartphone out and quickly turned it on. A few minutes later, the garage door was opening and we were pulling out of the large driveway. We passed Jin’s Jeep on the way out and Jungkook could not help but make a snide comment about the ugly car. I felt comfortable enough to try and fall asleep.
“You know,” Jungkook announced, making my eyes snap open. “You’re the coolest person I’ve ever worked with.”
I chuckled, my drowsiness making it difficult to focus.
“Thanks. You’re not that bad.”
“I’ve been useless for the entire trip,” Jungkook argued. “You stole the cars, got me clothes, made sure we were able to get flights without getting into some shit for it, and you always tried to make me feel more comfortable.”
Snorting, I looked over at the man.
“I shot you.”
Jungkook burst out laughing.
“I broke into your house.”
“Eye for an eye,” I offered, laughing.
Jungkook spared me a look in order to flash one of his blinding smiles. I noticed now that his front teeth were slightly bigger than they should be.
“Really,” Jungkook was serious again. “I feel bad for being dead weight. I’ll make it up to you, though. I’m not really known for stealing cars or running off into the night, but I know how to kill someone.”
Looking at me again, Jungkook’s boyish smile and light eyes were on. In their place were hard lines, a slightly down-turned pout, and a coldness that surrounded him I was unaccustomed to. While earnest, his expression felt wrong. Jungkook was sunshine and this felt like an eclipse.
“No one is going to touch you. I’ll cut their fucking hands off finger-by-finger if need be to get my point across.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked, confused.
We did not know one another. Hell, I shot this fucking guy. And yet here he was devoting his life to keeping me safe. It was crazy. Then again, this life was like that. Putting myself in Jungkook’s shoes, I thought about it the other way around. Would I kill for him?
“Because you’re my friend,” He answered without hesitation. “You’re my friend and I would like to get to know you better.”
Yes, I thought, I would kill for this kid.
Humming, I decided against saying anything else. I was far too tired for this conversation. Letting my body win, I closed my eyes and leaned against the car window. I fell asleep quickly, but I found no peace. Ivan’s face flashed through my mind, his eyes alight with anger, and my blood was all over his hands. My screams echoed in the background. He placed his knife against my skin again and drew a “V” right next to the “I.”
Eleven years ago
Standing beside Hoseok, I stared up at the apartment complex wearily. It was small, bricked, and disgusting. I could smell trash and smoke everywhere and people were yelling. I did not like it here. Not at all.
Looking over at the older boy, I made sure to show him my discontent. I could admit that South End was nicer than my old place in Brooklyn, but only for the quieter atmosphere. Everything else was just as nasty. Hoseok shoved me forward and scolded me for acting like a “freak.”
“People are going to know you’re new,” Hoseok complained. “Then I’m going to have to break their fucking head open for stepping out of line. Then Yoongi is going to dislike you. So, just fucking walk and keep your head down.”
Anger flaring, I stopped. Hoseok bumped into my back. Groaning loudly, he went to yell at me again. Scowling, I elbowed him in the stomach harshly. When he groaned and grabbed his stomach, I turned around and punched him in the face. While he barely moved, eating the hit easily, it seemed to get the message across.
“Don’t talk to me like that, bitch,” I seethed. “You’re not my dad.”
Waiting for Hoseok to hit me back, I stood there with my fists balled up. He looked at me intensely, his hands still clutching his stomach. His eyes went from my face to the small patch of exposed skin on my stomach. Knowing exactly what he was looking at, I pulled down the too-short shirt and yelled at him again to hit me.
Instead of violence, Hoseok simply took up straight. Breathing through his nostrils, he seemed to be calming himself down. I could see the start of a blackeye forming where I had hit him. My regret began eating away at me instantly, but I refused to back down. He deserved that hit. He needed to know I was not going to be his little plaything.
Hoseok just continued to walk, telling me to follow, and I could tell he was trying to be nicer this time around. Confused and more uneasy than before, I kept my hands ready for a fight. I was not sure when this nice-guy act would stop.
Being shaken awake, I realized we were at Jungkook’s. Glancing at the time, I was shocked we had driven almost two hours. We were parked in a small lot with a large brick building to the right. Jungkook turned the car off and got out. Quickly following him, I wondered where we were.
It was a nice place. They looked like townhomes and I could smell someone barbecuing. Jungkook looked back at me, a few paces ahead, and continued to walk around to the front. Every house had large bushes in the front yards. Hydrangeas grew vibrantly along the walkway with spaces to make way for the entryway to homes. Jungkook turned and I followed.
The front was identical to the others. The only difference I could see was Jungkook’s ‘no shoes’ sign right out front. Rubbing my eyes, I continued to wake up and get the crust off of my skin.
“It’s small,” Jungkook suddenly said, “But it’s nice.”
“Where are we?” I asked, stepping into the house and kicking off my shoes.
“Chatham,” He replied, shrugging his jacket off. “It’s out of the way but I like the beach.”
The first thing I noticed was the large, beige sectional in the living room. On the wall was a large television above a faux fireplace. The entire house smelled like wood polish and oranges. I liked the carpeted floors and was pleasantly surprised by how clean everything was. There were no photos or personalized art hanging on the walls, but I guessed Jungkook never really liked those sorts of things. He was personable but in the moment. Jimin was a photo monster.
Thinking of my friend, I hoped he was alright. It was unlike him to go full radio silent. At the very least he would have called and checked in. Perhaps he had and no one bothered to tell me. Catching a glimpse of myself in the large, gold framed mirror hanging above the dining table, I flinched.
I looked just as bad as I had begun to feel. I was tired, my eyes puffy, and I was embarrassed by the drool dried at the corner of my lip. My shoulder was stiff and uncomfortable from sleeping in the car and my clothes looked a mess. Jungkook had my duffle bag on his shoulder and I belatedly realized I have never even thought to grab it. I had not even brought it inside.
“Thank you,” I said.
Jungkook smiled at me.
“It’s no problem. The room’s not being used anyway.”
“No,” I shook my head and walked up to him. Carefully taking the bag, I slug it over my shoulder with a knowing look. “Thanks for grabbing my shit. And for the room. I appreciate it.”
Jungkook scratched the back of his neck and turned red. He was not good with compliments no matter how much he seemed to enjoy them.
“Friends, right?”
I nodded, “Yeah.”
Walking past him, I distracted myself from my racing heart by figuring out where his washing machine was.
After taking a shower, I tip-toed my way back to the room Jungkook had given me. I had been on edge since I got here. He was kind, caring, and attentive. I had never really seen someone show all three at the same time, and never toward me. My friends and I were subtle types, so to have someone so open and honest with their feelings was a hard pill to swallow. In California it was safe, in California it was expected, in California it was sacred; in Boston it was nerve wracking.
I could never be sure of how genuine Jungkook really was. When I was in his presence, it was easy to say that he was just that simple. Once I got alone it took all of me not to sneak out of a window and run. Hoseok had always said I needed to work on trusting people, so I would try.
I knew my behavior was only heightened by my attraction to him. Attractive people were the worst. Liking Jungkook would not do any favors for either one of us. I would get swallowed up by the life I so desperately wanted to leave, and Jungkook would be stuck in an awkward situation with the rest of the crew if it came to the light. No one would win and the outcome would be the same if I said anything or not. I was leaving Boston as soon as the situation was handled.
Luck was not on my side. As I turned the corner to reach the door of my bedroom, Jungkook was coming up the stairs. Carrying two cups, he flashed me a small smile and walked the rest of the way up. I froze in my spot. Caught red handed, I tried to play off my unsuccessful sneaking and took the cup with a smile. Jungkook did not seem to buy it but looked more amused than anything.
“What’s this?” I asked, smelling it.
“Cocoa,” He replied. “It’s not winter but still chilly.”
I nodded and took a generous sip. It was warm and silky. Humming in satisfaction, I took another sip and licked my top lip. Cocoa was one of my favorite things when I was a child. It was one of the few fond memories I had. Jungkook looked happy.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked. “To get your mind off things?”
It was funny that he thought Ivan was what had been plaguing my mind. I may not be a very violent person now, but there was a time I was ruthless. The Russians did not scare me as much as they once had either. My initial response had been mostly shock, anger, and most of all, frustration. I had not been scared in a very long time. I doubted I ever would be.
“Sure,” I said, keeping my thoughts out of the conversation. What Jungkook did not know will not hurt him. He was only trying to help. “I’m not picky.”
Going down the stairs, I felt the same nervous butterflies growing in my stomach again. We were going to be closer than I would like to be. I was afraid of what that might do to the both of us. I did not know where Jungkook’s head was, but I was not foolish enough to believe that I was immune to any advances. The ball would stay in his court. I had enough self control to let that be a rule.
Sitting on the couch, I curled up on the end and waited. Netflix was already pulled up and waiting. Jungkook sat two cushions away. Picking up the remote from the coffee table, he began scrolling as we talked about possible movies to watch. We ended up on a random Jason Statham film. I watched mindlessly since every one of his movies were practically the same.
“Are you hungry?” Jungkook asked me fifteen minutes in, clearly bored and disinterested in the action sequence. I could not blame him. There was no way anyone could use a gun like that in real life, and I was becoming annoyed by the plot armor. “I have ramen.”
I nodded, “That’s fine.”
Moving to stand up, Jungkook waved me off and went to the kitchen himself. Not arguing, I got more comfortable and zoned out once more. It was hard not to feel the pull towards him. All I kept thinking about was the way his lips felt at the airport. Refocusing on the movie, I rolled my eyes at the bomb scene. There was no way in hell you were getting up and walking away from something that big.
Of course, Jason Statham had done just that.
Jungkook came back a few minutes later, two large cups of ramen in hand, and sat down at the sofa. We ate in silence, neither one of us interrupting the bad movie again. When I went up to bed I could only think about how his hands would feel on me.
Taglist: @ippid @jkslaugh97 @destructive-memories @ash07128 @heartjiminie @adventures-in-bookland @canyon-lwt
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What it meant to "do geology" in Hutton's time was to apply lessons of textual hermeneutics usually reserved for scripture [...] to the landscape. Geology was itself textual. Rocks were marks made by invisible processes that could be deciphered. Doing geology was a kind of reading, then, which existed in a dialectical relationship with writing. In The Theory of the Earth from 1788, Hutton wrote a new history of the earth as a [...] system [...]. Only a few kilometers away from Hutton’s unconformity [the geological site at Isle of Arran in Scotland that inspired his writing], [...] stands the remains of the Shell bitumen refinery [closed since 1986] as it sinks into the Atlantic Ocean. [...] As Hutton thought, being in a place is a hermeneutic practice. [...] [T]he Shell refinery at Ardrossan is a ruin of that machine, one whose great material derangements have defined the world since Hutton. [...]
The Shell Transport and Trading Company [now the well-known global oil company] was created in the Netherlands East Indies in 1897. The company’s first oil wells and refineries were in east Borneo [...]. The oil was taken by puncturing wells into subterranean deposits of a Bornean or Sumatran landscape, and then transported into an ever-expanding global network of oil depots at ports [...] at Singapore, then Chennai, and through the Suez Canal and into the Mediterranean. [...] The oil in these networks were Bornean and Sumatran landscapes on the move. Combustion engines burnt those landscapes. Machinery was lubricated by them. They illuminated the night as candlelight. [...] The Dutch East Indies was the new land of untapped promise in that multi-polar world of capitalist competition. British and Dutch colonial prospectors scoured the forests, rivers, and coasts of Borneo [...]. Marcus Samuel, the British founder of the Shell Transport and Trading Company, as his biographer [...] put it, was “mesmerized by oil, and by the vision of commanding oil all along the line from production to distribution, from the bowels of the earth to the laps of the Orient.” [...]
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Shell emerged from a Victorian era fascination with shells.
In the 1830s, Marcus Samuel Sr. created a seashell import business in Houndsditch, London. The shells were used for decorating the covers of curio boxes. Sometimes, the boxes also contained miniature sculptures, also made from shells, of food and foliage, hybridizing oceanic and terrestrial life forms. Wealthy shell enthusiasts would sometimes apply shells to grottos attached to their houses. As British merchant vessels expanded into east Asia after the dissolution of the East India Company’s monopoly on trade in 1833, and the establishment of ports at Singapore and Hong Kong in 1824 and 1842, the import of exotic shells expanded.
Seashells from east Asia represented the oceanic expanse of British imperialism and a way to bring distant places near, not only the horizontal networks of the empire but also its oceanic depths.
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The fashion for shells was also about telling new histories. The presence of shells, the pecten, or scallop, was a familiar bivalve icon in cultures on the northern edge of the Mediterranean. Aphrodite, for example, was said to have emerged from a scallop shell. Minerva was associated with scallops. Niches in public buildings and fountains in the Roman empire often contained scallop motifs. St. James, the patron saint of Spain, was represented by a scallop shell [...]. The pecten motif circulated throughout medieval European coats of arms, even in Britain. In 1898, when the Gallery of Palaeontology, Comparative Anatomy, and Anthropology was opened in Paris’s Museum of Natural History - only two years after the first test well was drilled in Borneo at the Black Spot - the building’s architect, Ferdinand Dutert, ornamented the entrance with pecten shell reliefs. In effect, Dutert designed the building so that one entered through scallop shells and into the galleries where George Cuvier’s vision of the evolution of life forms was displayed [...]. But it was also a symbol for the transition between an aquatic form of life and terrestrial animals. Perhaps it is apposite that the scallop is structured by a hinge which allows its two valves to rotate. [...] Pectens also thrive in the between space of shallow coastal waters that connects land with the depths of the ocean. [...] They flourish in architectural imagery, in the mind, and as the logo of one of the largest ever fossil fuel companies. [...]
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In the 1890s, Marcus Samuel Jr. transitioned from his father’s business selling imported seashells to petroleum.
When he adopted the name Shell Transport and Trading Company in 1897, Samuel would likely have known that the natural history of bivalves was entwined with the natural history of fossil fuels. Bivalves underwent an impressive period of diversification in the Carboniferous period, a period that was first named by William Conybeare and William Phillips in 1822 to identify coal bearing strata. In other words, the same period in earth’s history that produced the Black Spot that Samuel’s engineers were seeking to extract from Dayak land was also the period that produced the pecten shells that he named his company after. Even the black fossilized leaves that miners regularly encountered in coal seams sometimes contained fossilized bivalve shells.
The Shell logo was a materialized cosmology, or [...] a cosmogram.
Cosmograms are objects that attempt to represent the order of the cosmos; they are snapshots of what is. The pecten’s effectiveness as a cosmogram was its pivot, to hinge, between spaces and times: it brought the deep history of the earth into the present; the Black Spot with Mediterranean imaginaries of the bivalve; the subterranean space of liquid oil with the surface. The history of the earth was made legible as an energetic, even a pyrotechnical force. The pecten represented fire, illumination, and certainly, power. [...] If coal required tunnelling, smashing, and breaking the ground, petroleum was piped liquid that streamed through a drilled hole. [...] In 1899, Samuel presented a paper to the Society of Arts in which he outlined his vision of “liquid fuel.” [...] Ardrossan is a ruin of that fantasy of a free flowing fossil fuel world. [...] At Ardrossan, that liquid cosmology is disintegrating.
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All text above by: Adam Bobbette. "Shells and Shell". e-flux Architecture (Accumulation series). November 2023. At: e-flux dot com slash architecture/accumulation/553455/shells-and-shell/ [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticisms purposes.]
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Movie Musical Divas Tournament: Round 4
Angela Lansbury (1925-2022): Em in The Harvey Girls (1946) | Eglantine Price in Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971) | Ruth in Pirates of Penzance (1983) | Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd (1982) | London Speciality in Till the Clouds Roll By (1946) | Mrs. Claus in Mrs. Santa Claus (1996)
"The patron saint of girls and young women labeled character actors at a young age, there are few people in the history of cinema who can claim a career as long and iconic as Angela Lansbury’s. Despite near constant sidelining and regularly being cast to play characters decades older than her, she managed to create a resume full of iconic characters and performances. In addition, she used her star power to advocate for AIDS research while it was still a taboo subject, as well as create roles for older actors to help them stay afloat." - anonymous
Eartha Kitt (1927-2008): New Faces (1954, Miss Kitt) | St Louis Blues (1958, Gogo Germaine)
"YES! Even though she faced bewildering amounts of Hollywood racism, the winner of the Hot & Vintage Movie Women Tournament DID manage to do a couple of movie musicals: New Faces, a fluffy backstage-hijinks thing in which she plays her classic chanteuse persona and is even addressed as "Miss Kitt", and St Louis Blues, a musical biopic in which she sings alongside a bunch of other jazz greats. Neither of the films is considered a masterpiece, but Eartha is as scorchingly hot as always, and demonstrates that she could have become a legend in movie musicals if the roles had been there for her. In short, vote for Eartha Kitt because (1) she has JUST ENOUGH credits to count as a movie musical diva, (2) think of all the other Eartha Kitt movie musicals we COULD have had if not for racism, and (3) she's Eartha Kitt, certifiably the hottest old movie woman. Please and thank you." - anonymous
This is Round 4 of the Movie Musical Divas tournament. Additional polls in this round may be found by searching #mmround4, or by clicking the link below. Add your propaganda and support by reblogging this post.
ADDITIONAL PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT: ALL POLLS HERE
Angela Lansbury:
"Because of Sondheim's continued insistance on making his musicals as accessibly viewable as possible, we have the glorious Sweeney Todd proshot that captures Angela Lansbury's career-defining performance as Mrs. Lovett. Many have followed. None of have baked a better pie." - anonymous
"Angela Lansbury lost the Emmy eighteen times. Don't let her lose again. She deserves this as one of our most beloved gay icons. She is happiness personified and the world is dimmer without her." - anonymous
youtube
Photos submitted by: @mygreatadventurehasbegun, @funnygirlthatbelle | Video submitted by: anonymous
Eartha Kitt:
youtube
Photos and video submitted by: anonymous
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The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in October 2024
01/10 As Court Member of the Fishmongers’ Company, visited a Food Technology Class at Bingley Grammar School. 🐟🏫
As President of the UK Fashion and Textile Association, visited SIL Group’s Fibre Processing Mill at Ladywell Mills in Bradford. 🧵🧣
Visited Viking Arms Limited in Harrogate. ⚔️🏹🗡️
02/10 Visited Blackburn Meadows Bio-Mass Power Plant in Tinsley, Sheffield. 🍃🔋
Visited Sheffield Forgemasters. 🔥⚒️
Visited Loadhog at the Hog Works. 🚛🚚
Opened the University of Sheffield’s Gene Therapy Innovation and Manufacturing Centre. 🧬
03/10 As President of Carers Trust, attended the Short Breaks Wales Conference at Sophia Gardens Cricket Ground in Cardiff. 🦽🏴
As Colonel of The Blues and Royals (Royal Horse Guards and 1st Dragoons), attended the Annual Dinner at the Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park Hotel in Knightsbridge, London. 💂🍽️
04/10 As Vice Patron of the British Horse Society attended the Changing Lives Through Horses Forum at Saddlers' Hall in London. 🐎
08/10 As President of the Royal Yachting Association, opened Warsash Sailing Club’s renovated Clubhouse. ⛵️🍾
As Patron of Catch22, visited the Orion Centre in Havant, Hampshire. 🫂
Sir Tim represented Princess Anne at the Memorial Service for Mrs Julia Rausing (Philanthropist) which was held in St James’s Church in London. ⛪️
09/10 Attended the Annual National Service for Seafarers in St. Paul's Cathedral. ⛪️⚓️
10/10 As Patron of the Royal College of Emergency Medicine, attended the Annual Scientific Conference at the Glasshouse International Centre for Music in Gateshead. 💊
As Patron of the Butler Trust, visited North Tyneside Youth Justice System in North Shields. 🔗
Opened a renovated manufacturing facility in North Shields. 🏢
11/10 As Admiral of the Sea Cadet Corps, Marine Society and Sea Cadets, opened Midlands Boat Station in Birmingham. 🫡⛵️
As Chancellor of Harper Adams University, opened the Digital Learning Hub at the Quad in Telford. 🖥️💻🎮
As Patron of YSS Limited, visited the Criminal Justice Service at the Shropshire Golf Centre in Telford. 👩⚖️
14/10 As Guardian of Give Them A Sporting Chance and the Chaffinch Trust, held Management Board and Team Meetings at Gatcombe Park. 💼
15/10 With Sir Tim as Royal Patron of the Motor Neurone Disease Association, attended the “Countdown to Cure” Reception at the Royal College of Nursing in London. 💊
With Sir Tim As Patron of the Remembrance Trust, attended a Dinner at the Beefsteak Club in London. 🌹
16/10 As Royal Patron of the Security Institute, attended the Annual Conference at the Royal Society of Medicine. 🚨🔒
As Master of the Corporation of Trinity House, attended a Civic Luncheon at Trinity House. 🍽️
As Royal Patron of WISE, attended the Annual Conference at IET London: Savoy Place. 🧩
17/10 As Patron of the Cathedral Church of Saint German Peel Development Appeal attended a Thanksgiving Service in St German’s Cathedral, Peel, Isle of Man. 🇮🇲⛪️
Visited the Manx National Heritage “All at Sea” Exhibition at the House of Manannan in Peel, Isle of Man. 🇮🇲 🌊
As Grand Master of the Royal Victorian Order, attended Evensong and a Reception at The King’s Chapel of the Savoy in London. ⛪️🍾
As President of the Royal Society for the encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce, attended a Reception to mark the 250th Anniversary of RSA House. 🎂
Unofficial Sir Tim, as Chair of the Board of Trustees of the Science Museum Group, attended the launch of the Manchester Science Festival at the Science and Industry Museum in Manchester. 🧪🧬🔭
18/10 On behalf of The King, held an Investiture at Buckingham Palace. 🎖️
Attended a performance by the Spanish Riding School of Vienna at OVO Arena in Wembley. 🇦🇹🇪🇸🐎
19/10 With Sir Tim Attended British Champions Day at Ascot Racecourse. 🏆🐎
22/10 As Master of the Corporation of Trinity House, chaired the Quarterly Meeting of the Court and attended a Luncheon at Trinity House. 💼
As Patron of UK Coaching, held a Reception at Buckingham Palace to celebrate Olympic and Paralympic Coaching. 🇬🇧🏅
23/10 Attended a Bicentenary Commemorative Service to recognise the Scottish Fire and Rescue Service in St Giles’ Cathedral, Edinburgh. 🚒🧯👨🚒
As Royal Patron of Leuchie Forever Fund, held a Benefactors’ Dinner at the Palace of Holyroodhouse. 🍽️
24/10 Re-opened the Rowan Glen Factory at Palnure, near Newton Stewart. 🍶
As Patron of the Royal College of Occupational Therapists, opened the new wing at West Cumberland Hospital in Whitehaven. 🏥
With Sir Tim As Patron of the Royal Navy and Royal Marines Charity, attended the Trafalgar Night Dinner at the Old Royal Naval College in Greenwich. ⚓️🫡🍽️
25/10 Opened the British Standards Institution International Electrotechnical Commission Annual Meeting at the Edinburgh International Conference Centre. 🏴🔋
28/10 Attended the Prison Advice and Care Trust’s 125th Anniversary National Volunteer Awards at St John’s Church in London. 🏆
29/10 On behalf of The King, held morning and afternoon investitures at Windsor Castle.🎖️
31/10 Visited the Robotic Surgery Unit at Musgrove Park Hospital in Taunton. 🤖🏥
Attended a Reception for the Pride of Somerset Youth Awards winners at Bridgwater and Taunton College. 🏆
Was installed as Chancellor of Health Sciences University before launching the University in Bournemouth. 🎓
As Patron of Save the Children UK, attended the Autumn in the City Dinner at the Savoy in London. 🍽️
Total official engagements for Anne in September: 58
2024 total so far: 371
Total official engagements accompanied/represented by Tim in September: 5
2024 total so far: 91
FYl - due to certain royal family members being off ill/in recovery I won't be posting everyone's engagement counts out of respect, I am continuing to count them and release the totals at the end of the year.
#it’s that time of the month again kids#princess anne#princess royal#tim laurence#timothy laurence#court circular#october 2024#aimees unofficial engagement count 2024
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Sherlock & Co - Mailbag Episode 4 Transcript
00:00-00:29 *Intro Music*
00:28 John: Hello there, Mister Flatmate.
00:31 Sherlock (Resigned): What is it and why have you got your laptop?
00:34 John: It’s that time! My fine fellow-
00:34 Sherlock: For goodness sake. *sounds of him moving on furniture*
00:36 John: Oi, where you going?
00:38 Sherlock: I’m getting my cushion.
00:39 John: Your cushion?
00:40 Sherlock: Yes. Here. This one.
00:42 John: That- that’s Mariana’s.
00:45 Sherlock: Ah, it’s mine.
00:46 John: I know it’s her’s. I bought it for her for Christmas.
00:50 Sherlock: Are you sure?
00:51 John: Yes, because you don’t support Real Sociedad and she does.
00:56 Sherlock: *pause* I could.
00:57 John: Yeah, you could, but you don’t. Ok- *gibbers* It doesn’t matter. Just sit on the bloody cushion. Fine. Qs! And indeed As! Here we go. Uh, ahem, mm, just a disclaimer here, to the patrons. Um. I’m old. Uh, I’m thirty-four. If-if I see a question in the Discord, I-I just ask it. Uh, if it’s in the wrong order or i-if I’ve missed some out. It’s-it’s probably just me not seeing it. So, y’know. Right-o! Uh-Ooo! Off to a flyer here! Milque asks, “Favorite tube line?”
01:29 Sherlock: Victoria.
01:30 Yeah, Victoria. Yeah, yeah. Generally, most Londoners will give that answer. Umm, y’know clean trains, not too many stops, and some big stations on there. Y’know King’s Cross, Euston, Oxford Circus, um Victoria, obviously. Um, some other lines worth mention: Bakerloo brings a certain vibe. B-bit of a sort of kooky, deranged, but pleasant elderly uncle that doesn’t wash kind of vibe. Uh, central line is possibly the most hated, ah, especially during the summer. Um, Piccadilly gets a lot of people headed to Heathrow, so it comes with a lot of baggage. Hah! Literally clambering over suitcases on that one. The Elizabeth line is amazing, but seems to be closed or delayed most of the time. Um, so thanks for listening to TubeCast!
02:20 John: Heh, right. Next question! SaraHawke722 asks, “How do you both know Stamford?” Stamo! The Stamster! I think therefore I Stam. Heh, uh, I-I added those bits. They didn’t say that. Uh, right. Sherlock you go first.
02:36 Sherlock: I met him at St. Bart’s.
02:39 John: That’s uh Saint Bartholemew’s Hospital in London
02:42 Sherlock: I know.
02:43 John: Yes, I know, I’m just telling the listener.
02:45 Sherlock: *pause* Right… I met him at St. Bart’s. There was a study on skin grafting that he was undertaking. I initially made a number of enquiries about the study, he then hired me to work with him on it. Then after that he wanted me on other projects that I didn’t find that interesting, but *with emphasis* he did let me use the lab.
03:03 John: Great, uh ok, um, I met Stamo in Freshes week at University. Um, the University of London. W-which is kind of affiliated with UCL and King’s College London.
03:15 Sherlock: By kind of affiliated, you mean it’s for their underachieving undergrads.
03:19 John: Uh, sorry mate, what University did you go to, exactly? *silence* Yeah, right, thought so. Uh, by the way, um, few of our American listeners have mentioned that you and Victor went to college together. College in the UK is sixteen to eighteen, generally speaking. Um, but, sorry Sherlock, posh lads will sometimes call boarding school a ‘college’. Uhh, I d-I don’t know why. They also call their private boarding schools ‘public schools’. So, yeah, I know. Weird lot. Uh, anyway, yeah, met Stamo at University of London in Freshes week, we both liked football. He’s a Villa fan, Aston Villa that is. We, we kinda were, uh, both out of our depth a little bit with medical degree life, so y’know maybe stuck together. Which. Which was stupid really as you should probably attach yourself to some smartarse, but hey! Y’know! Live and learn! Uh, he started to do well at Uni. Um, he went on to y’know big-big private practice and cosmetic surgery for the most part. And I got shot at for a living, so. Yeah. Listen in school, kids. Listen in school. Uh, WeirdScience asks “Do you believe in ghosts?”
04:32 Sherlock: No. Do you?
04:33 John: Uh, no. No, no. Joff asks “Sorry to be intrusive doctor, but did you suffer any hearing loss during your army days?” Pardon? *wheezing laugh* Ha, uhh no. No, seriously, I did. Um, I burst an ear drum, twice, um, actually, in Afghanistan. I-in my right ear. Uh, thought it was fine, but then after Ukraine when I was getting a full body M.O.T. as it were, there were signs of hearing loss. Um, yeah, but I’ve been lucky I think. I hope it doesn’t get worse as I’ve built my career in audio now. So. Yeah-yeah, but uh a little. A little bit. Um, JellyBaby says, “Dogs or Cats, podboys?”
05:18 Sherlock: I prefer vermin.
05:19 John: Hm. I uh prefer dogs, through and through. Yeah. Um, y’know I like a cat, but they don’t get me. Dogs get me. Ain’t that right, Arch? Heh. Uh, don’t know where he is actually. He’s probably downstairs with Mariana. Catonk asks, “What’s your favorite musical?” We-well it won’t be ‘Cats’! Hahaha! Ahh, Sherlock, your favorite musical?
05:43 Sherlock: What’s the one with the man?
05:46 John: The. The one with the man. Um. Right. You’ve just described the entirety of art and media there.
05:54 Sherlock: He has a piano and he lives in a cave.
05:57 John: Piano in a cave?
05:59 Sherlock: There’s a girl he loves. He-he-he’s got half a face.
06:01 John: Ohh! Phantom of the Opera.
06:04 Sherlock: Yes! I thought that one was okay.
06:07: Great. Yeah, no, it’s a good’un, it’s a good’un. Good answer, I like Phantom. I like Les Mis. I know that’s a boring answer, but some incredible songs in that. Uhhh, yeah. Question via email here from Sartori, “Did you feel bad for Violet Caruthers, because I did.” Um, well yeah, I did. Um. She, uh- I-I-I don’t know how to put it, really-
06:34 Sherlock (interjecting): Had given up control of her life.
06:36 John: Yeah, it was- I don’t know- confidence shot to shit? Th-th-the truest sort of victim I think I’ve ever seen, really. She just, uh, she couldn’t grasp the wheel on her own life. Like Sherlock says. Was that why you were reluctant on that case, Sherlock?
06:55 Sherlock: Very much so. Men had muscled in and filled the gaps she had created from her own insecurity. I didn’t wish to be yet another imposing presence.
07:05 John: But we were.
07:07 Sherlock: We were. And what good did it do?
07:10 John: Saved a bloke’s life?
07:11 Sherlock: Mm, we didn’t pull the trigger but we may as well have. And we set the process in motion.
07:18 John: Welllll… right. Yeah. Okay, didn’t think this q and a session would get so deep. Um. But, yeah, t-that, uh… Welcome to True Crime! *awkward huff laugh* Yeah, we don’t always run off or cycle off into the sunset. Um. Yeah. Uh, okay. Mush-Pit asks, “How many languages do you know?”
07:47 Sherlock: Many.
07:48 John: Great.Uh, why?
07:50 Sherlock: When I was young, I often fooled myself into thinking perhaps it was my grasp of language that was the reason that I didn’t quite fit in. So, I decided to try a number of other languages to see if they worked as a better and more effective means of communication. I wondered whether the nuance and subtle signals of the English language were what was holding me back from social environments. So, I attempted other languages.
08:14 John: Right, and how did that go?
08:15 Sherlock: It’s the same. It would appear it’s nothing to do with language.
08:20 John: Yeah, I’m inclined to agree with you there. I’m rubbish with languages. Ha, it never sticks for some reason. Um, hole in my brain I think. Mariana is also a dab hand at the old languages. She cracked open a bit of Russian the other day. I nearly ducked for cover! * laughs at his own joke* Uh, *clears through* RangerPip asks, “Have you seen any of the fan content Sherlock?”
08:42 Sherlock: Yes, because you keep showing me. And sticking things on the fridge.
08:46 John: Uh, yeah because they’re cool. They’re really good mate! Just-just you wait until I show you the presentation.
08:52 Sherlock: The what?
08:53 John: Nothing. Right question via email from Unbelted, “Does the fingerprint in your logo make an ‘S’ and is that deliberate?” Yes, um is the answer to that. My idea, thanks. Uh, Jones asks, “What’s our spice tolerance?” So, um, right. Okay, yeah. I can go really spicy for Indian. Uh, I can hit the searing temperatures of the Madras and the Vindaloo no problem. Lot of Brits can actually. But I tell you what, Indonesian and Thai spicing I feel. Geez, whew, that is-is a whole different realm of spice. Um…phew. S-sherlock?
09:32 Sherlock: I like the sensation.
09:35 John. Yep, uh. Anything else to add?
09:39 Sherlock: It depends on my emotional connection to the food.
09:42 John: Of course, of course. Well, a-a-as mentioned in Gloria Scott, Sherlock will only eat certain foods if he’s in the right mood. The mood for food, heh. Uh, right-o. Few general questions asking how pancake day went. Uh, yep. No dramas. Went well. Went ‘flipping’ great. Eh? Hehe. Uh, yeah, uh oo! Questions and comments. A lot from North American Podpals, uh, about me describing a woman as ‘tasty’. Um. So, ‘tasty’ is a Carol Watson word. Uh. T-t-the sort she would use for young, handsome men that she flirts with when she can. Um, don’t know what the American equivalent would be? Um? Yeah, you know, what’s a lame word used to describe someone as good looking? Y’know what would an elderly woman use basically…get in touch! Right, another question here. Uh, by the way, when I started this whole question and answer thing, Goalhanger and I thought this would be a great way to field questions about cases. Um. Y’know about the people we meet, about the nature of the crimes we’ve dealt with, uh to fill in possible knowledge gaps, and impart little gems of information that expose the murky nature of crime. Um. Which takes us to this question from Saphhster, “John, what are your thoughts on ranch dressing?” *long pause* I mean, yeah. I like it. I like it, it’s good stuff. Um, Sherlock is nodding. Uh, it’s audio mate. Great. Thanks for your contribution. Uh, Tonky asks, “Does Sherlock have any tattoos?” Apart from my face on his bum. Heh, that’s a joke. That’s a joke, don’t write in. Sherlock, tattoos?
11:26 Sherlock: A spiral on my hip.
11:28 John: What?! Alright, well let’s see! Get it out. *sound of clothes being moved/removed* Oh, well that’s rubbish.
11:34 Sherlock: I know.
11:35 John: Why’d you get that done?
11:36 Sherlock: I-it’s scarring from falling out of bed. I had it filled in because it looked like a spiral.
11:42 John: Okay. Sarah Hawke again with a question, “What is your advice about dealing with a noisy flatmate? Would love both your takes on this lol. I’m at Uni and have a noisy and slightly annoying flatmate. Somehow I’ve agreed to live with them next year as well.” Um, okay Sara Hawke, w-
12:03 Sherlock (cutting John off): Try to tune them out as best you can. Bring in other elements to distract you from their noisiness.
12:09 John (cutting Sherlock off): Sorry, what are you doing?
12:10 Sherlock: Answering wonky-blonk’s question.
12:12 John: It’s not ‘Wonky-Blonk’, it’s Sarah Hawke. Who’s Wonky-Blonk?
12:15 Sherlock: They’re all called that.
12:17 John: Look, I live with a noisy flatmate, alright, it’s clearly directed at me.
12:20 Sherlock: They said both of us.
12:21 John: Yeah, but they added a ‘lol’, okay. That means they recognize the irony of you being asked.
12:26 Sherlock: Why?
12:27 John: Because you initiate a fucking marching band at three am every night. Ssssake. Uh, yeah, Sarah Hawke, I would say get some earbuds. Play music. Uh, white noise is good. Um, oh, I l-looked into this. You can get quite cool soundproofing panels on Amazon. Um, they don’t look awful and they do kind of work. Sometimes. Uh, yeah, right, anyway. That’s it. Thanks for the ‘Qs’, hope you liked the ‘As’ and we will see you soon. He’s wav-He’s waving. It’s. It’s audio m- For god’s sake-
13:00-13:30 *Outro Music Plays*
#sherlock & co#sherlock and co#sherlock holmes#john watson#sherlock and john#transcript#transcripts#goalhanger podcasts#my transcript
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Like a lot of us, Carlo Acutis spent an ungodly amount of his life staring at screens. Born in London in 1991, he grew up an only child in a newly connected world. He wore sweatshirts and Nike trainers. He played Halo and taught himself to code. But that’s where the similarities end—because next year, Acutis will officially be named a saint.
As well as the internet, Acutis revered another institution: the Catholic Church. From a young age, he was acutely interested in Eucharistic miracles—extraordinary events which, according to Catholics, see consecrated bread or wine suddenly become the actual body or blood of Christ. “To always be united to Jesus: This is my life plan,” he told his mother after his First Communion.
In 2004, Acutis started to research Eucharistic miracles from around the world, developing a website to document them. His aim was to connect with other young Catholics. “He was personally convinced that the scientific evidence would help people … come back to Mass,” says Courtney Mares, author of Blessed Carlo Acutis: A Saint in Sneakers and Rome correspondent for the Catholic News Agency.
The online archive was unveiled in October 2006, a simple build with cursive text and religious imagery. But just a few days after it launched, Acutis fell ill. He was diagnosed with leukemia, with little chance of recovery. “Death has become the passage towards life,” he told his mother, before falling into a coma, suffering a brain hemorrhage, and passing away. He was just 15.
His spirit lived on. The website he’d built helped introduce Eucharistic miracles to a mass audience across the globe and was translated into 17 languages. A physical exhibition linked to Acutis’ work has toured internationally, being shown in thousands of parishes worldwide. It’s still touring now. Acutis is revered not just for his use of technology, but also his dedication to living virtuously. “I think that prayer was truly the great secret of his saintly life,” Mares says. But the website was key to creating a halo effect, heightening his reputation as a blessed figure.
In 2012, the Archdiocese of Milan—where Acutis’ family had moved when he was a child—started a cause for canonization, paving the way for sainthood. Unbeknown to most secular folk, saints are still made regularly; Pope Francis has recognized a record 912 since 2013. But becoming one, as the cliché goes, requires patience. The original petitioner appoints a postulator to collect evidence of the candidate’s sacred work (the “devil’s advocate” used to be a real antithesis to this occupation, arguing against sainthood).
“The process of identifying someone as a saint is long and careful and quite bureaucratic,” says Tim Hutchings, associate professor of religious ethics at the University of Nottingham. “It starts when some Catholics decide that they really think someone should be a saint. They start a campaign to prove to their local bishop that this person lived an incredibly holy life, or died for their faith.”
After being named a "Servant of God" in 2013, Acutis reached the second rung on the ladder to sainthood when he was venerated by Pope Francis in 2018. His body was exhumed and brought to a tomb in Assisi where he still lies today, dressed in his trademark '90s teenager garb. “It’s a beautiful thing that for the first time in history you can see a saint dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt. That’s a great message,” Father Carlos Acácio Gonçalves Ferreira, the shrine’s rector, said at the time. A Franciscan monk based at the tomb, noted that “many young people” were visiting.
Next, Acutis and his followers needed a literal miracle—one he had performed himself. “It has to be something which can't be scientifically explained, so proving this is difficult. For example, this might require doctors to confirm that they can't explain how a healing has occurred,” Hutchings says. In 2013 a woman in Brazil claimed that praying to Acutis had helped heal her son’s pancreatic defect. In 2020 Pope Francis authenticated the miracle and Acutis was beatified, culminating in a ceremony celebrating his virtuous life. “According to Google Trends, more people were searching for information about Carlo Acutis than about the Pope,” Mares notes.
Then, in May 2024, a second miracle was recognized, involving the healing of a 21-year-old girl from Costa Rica injured in a bike accident. In 2022, her mother had knelt at Acutis' grave and prayed for his help. Her daughter then miraculously resumed breathing without support and made a full recovery. The Pope approved Acutis’ canonization in July—with an official ceremony set for 2025.
It’s rare for a saint to be so young and unheard of, and still reach this lofty status so soon after their death. “It is remarkable that Carlo Acutis will be canonized so close to the date that he was born. For context, of the 912 saints canonized by Pope Francis, the next most recent birth date was in 1926,” Mares says. It makes him the first ever millennial saint and, as some Catholics have put it, “God’s influencer” and the “patron saint of the internet.”
Meanwhile, the cult of Carlos Acutis is continuing to spread across the world. Relics, including a piece of the sheet that shrouded his corpse, a fragment of one of his sweatshirts, and his actual heart, have toured internationally, recently coming to the UK for the New Dawn Catholic Pilgrimage. Online, you can buy Carlo Acutis figurines, rosary beads, posters, and commemorative keychains. In North Lanarkshire, Scotland, a life-size statue of Acutis has been erected at Carfin Grotto, and there’s a stained-glass window in Wiltshire to attract young churchgoers.
There's even a comic book telling his story, and a VR experience offering players a chance to step into Acutis’ sneakers. And, for Catholics who are unable to pay their respects in person, his tomb can be visited (and donated to) virtually through an always-on livestream.
The Church doesn’t pick saints—campaigns start with the Catholic community—but Acutis’ popularity meshes with its desire for a young role model. It also highlights the Church’s embrace of tech. “The Pope has been making an annual lecture about communications technology for 58 years,” says Hutchings. “It absolutely makes sense for Catholics to look for a saint of the internet who represents the godly and faithful use of technology.”
There is, of course, still a stigma surrounding the internet’s potential for blasphemous behavior. “The Pope has warned that today’s digital age constantly tempts young people to ‘self-absorption, isolation, and empty pleasure,’” Mares says. And some devout Catholics are still struggling with temptation. “With technology changing at such a rapid pace today, many Christians are still grappling with how best to live out their faith in the world of laptops, cell phones, and social media,” Mares says.
But the Pope also called the internet a “gift from God” in 2014, and he recognizes its potential for spreading the word of Christ—it just depends on how it is applied. And in the case of Acutis, tech was used in a pious way. “Acutis used the new technology in exactly the way that the Church wants to see it used: to promote commitment to Catholic teaching, virtuous living, and devotion to the rituals of the local church,” Hutchings explains. The Church will hope that the relatable “saint in sneakers” who watched cartoons and surfed the web will resonate with a community looking for an idol.
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Philippa Gregory and Lazy Research: the Issue With Pop History as Exemplified by the Misinformation Surrounding Geneviève d'Eon in the Book Normal Women
If you frequent bookstores or libraries you might have seen Philippa Gregory's new book Normal Women in the best sellers or most wanted displays. The fact that Geneviève d'Eon, a trans woman, is included in a woman's history book is marvelous. D'Eon has been denied her place in woman's history for far too long. So what's the problem? Well Philippa Gregory's lazy research is the problem.
For full transparency I have to admit I didn't read the whole book. And honestly based on what I did read I probably wont read it because the short section I did read left a lot to be desired. While the section on d'Eon is short Gregory sure can pack a fair bit of misinformation into 7 paragraphs.
The most glaring error is d'Eon's name. Gregory claims her name was Lia however this is simply not true. D'Eon's full name was Charlotte-Geneviève-Louise-Auguste-André-Timothée d’Eon de Beaumont, or Geneviève d'Eon for short. When d'Eon transitioned she changed her first name to Charlotte, but she actually went by her middle name Geneviève, which was one of her baptismal names. The name Geneviève had both personal and religious significance for d'Eon having been given to her by her godmother. She talks about this in the draft of her autobiography:
I did undertake to make a novena to my patron saint, Geneviève, in the hope of gaining insight, since the name Geneviève was given to me at baptism by my godmother, the sister of my father and of my uncle.
(The Maiden of Tonnerre, p9)
She also mentions her name when writing about the joy of being able to live openly as a woman:
At present I am living in profound peace; and my joy is so great that I praise God in three languages so that a greater number of people may partake of the happiness of the angels in this life while awaiting the crown of ordinary martyrs, Nunc Genofeva d'Eon est nomen meum; quam suave et dulce est laetitia mea! [My name is now Geneviève d’Eon; how delightful and how sweet is my joy!]
(The Maiden of Tonnerre, p87)
[Ticket for Geneviève d'Eon's fencing display at Mrs. Bateman's house in Soho, c. 1793, via The British Museum]
The only evidence that suggests d'Eon may have used the name Lia is from a flirtatious letter written by her then boss the Marquis de l'Hôpital during her mission in Russia. L'Hôpital, who was 30 years her senior, calls d'Eon "ma chère Lia" and "ma belle de Beaumont". In other letters l'Hôpital often complains about d'Eon's lack of sexual activity, often making comments about her penis. It's unclear how d'Eon felt about the name Lia or the multiple sexual remarks made by her boss. (see Mémoires sur la Chevalière d'Éon by Frédéric Gaillardet, p16, 77, 80, 94, 99 & 110 for the l'Hôpital letters)
Gregory isn't just confused about d'Eon's name, she also mixes up details of d'Eon's life claiming that d'Eon dressed as a woman during her mission to spy on England in preparation for an French invasion, stating that d'Eon "moved in London society as Lia de Beaumont." I've never seen any strong evidence that d'Eon was dressing in woman's clothes for this mission and Gregory doesn't provide any evidence of this either. Certainly d'Eon claimed to have dressed in women's clothes during her mission in Russia but not England. (see The Maiden of Tonnerre for d'Eon's claims that she adopted a female alias in Russia)
Gregory also claims:
In August 1777, Lia de Beaumont chose a male identity and wore a grenadier's uniform to volunteer for military service in the American War of Independence, but was prevented from joining the conflict
While d'Eon did attempt to rejoin the French army in 1778 & 1779 she did not "chose a male identity". D'Eon asked to be able to rejoin the army as a woman. In February 1779 d'Eon published an open letter to "several Great Ladies at Court" hoping for support in rejoining the army:
Foreseeing that there will be less fighting on land this year than last, I earnestly entreat you to use your influence with the ministers, in favour of my petition (as stated in the enclosed copy of my letter to the Comte de Maurepas) to serve as a volunteer in the fleet of the Comte d'Orvilliers. Your name, Madame, is one to which military glory is familiar, and, as a woman, you must love the glory of our sex. I have striven to sustain that throughout the late war with Germany, and in negotiating at European courts during the last twenty-five years. There is nothing left for me to do but to fight at sea in the Royal Navy. I hope to acquit myself in such a way that you will not regret having fostered the good intention of one who has the honour to be, with profoundest respect, faithfully yours. La Chevalière d'Eon.
(Originally published in Correspondance Littéraire, Philosophique et Critique, translation by Alfred Rieu in D'Eon de Beaumont, His Life and Times, p233)
Nowhere in this letter does d'Eon claim to be a man. In fact she writes "as a woman, you must love the glory of our sex" (emphasis mine) and signs it in the feminine "La Chevalière d'Eon."
Gregory also includes the following quote from Madame Campan's book Memoirs Of The Court Of Marie Antoinette:
He was made to resume the costume of that sex to which in France everything is pardoned. The desire to see his native land once more determined him to submit to the condition, but he revenged himself by combining the long train of his gown and the three deep ruffles on his sleeves with the attitude and conversation of a grenadier, which made him very disagreeable company.
I have to ask why Gregory felt this needed to be included? Why is Campan's speculation on d'Eon's gender given more weight than any of d'Eon's own writings on gender? Shouldn't we prioritise what d'Eon said about herself over the speculation of an acquaintance of hers?
Why not include this quote:
I would prefer to keep my male clothes, because they open all the doors to fortune, glory, and courage. Dresses close all those doors for me. Dresses only give me room to cry about the misery and servitude of women, and you know that I am crazy about liberty. But nature has come to oppose me, and to make me feel the need for women’s clothes, so that I can sleep, eat, and study in peace. I am constantly in fear of some sickness or accident that will, despite myself, allow my sex to be discovered …. Nature makes a good friend but a bad enemy. If you chase it through the door, it just blows back in through the window.
(Monsieur D'Eon Is a Woman by Gary Kates p71)
Or this one:
If certain modern philosophers do not approve of my conversion, it is because they do not believe in God, the law, or the King. God forgave me, the living law vindicated me, and the legal systems in England and France awarded me full rights to wear a dress. Louis XV and Louis XVI were my patrons, the Queen who is the daughter of the Caesars had me dressed in her court by Mademoiselle Bertin; the very woman who dresses the Queen did not turn up her nose at dressing Mademoiselle d'Eon grandly.
(The Maiden of Tonnerre, p134)
Or maybe this one:
Having been a decent man, a zealous citizen and a brave soldier all my life, I triumph in being a woman and in being able to be cited for ever amongst those many woman who have proved that the qualities and virtues of which men are so proud have not been denied to those of my sex.
(La Vie militaire, politique et privée de Melle d’Eon (1779): Biography and the Art of Manipulation by Anne-Marie Mercier-Faivre)
Gregory isn't alone in the choice to highlight Campan's speculation over d'Eon's own words, Wikipedia also does this, which makes me wonder if she originally got this quote from d'Eon's Wikipedia page. Perhaps Gregory doesn't know what d'Eon wrote about gender because she hasn't read anything d'Eon wrote about gender.
It's clear that Philippa Gregory's research on d'Eon was frankly lazy and nothing exemplifies this as much as her thinking d'Eon's name was Lia. But why does Philippa Gregory think d'Eon's name is Lia when primary source evidence clearly shows otherwise? Well it's certainly a common myth that d'Eon used the name Lia de Beaumont as a alias while working as a spy in Russia. The assumption was originally made by Frédéric Gaillardet in his largely fictitious book Memoires du Chevalier d'Eon. Gaillardet assumes that d'Eon used the name Lia de Beaumont because of the letter from the Marquis de l'Hôpital in which he calls her "ma chère Lia" and "ma belle de Beaumont". Whether or not d'Eon even did have a female alias while working as a spy in Russia is a controversial point amongst historians. However even if we assume she did use the name Lia as an alias its still not really her name.
I don't think I've seen a single historian claim d'Eon's name was actually Lia but I have seen many people on social media claim this was her name. The logic seems to be that if d'Eon used Lia de Beaumont as an alias that it was probably her preferred name. With most secondary sources on d'Eon using her deadname and never identifying d'Eon by either her first name Charlotte or preferred name Geneviève the issue gets confused. Lia seems like the preferable choice of name to people who don't want to deadname d'Eon but also aren't aware of any other feminine name she went by.
But why does Philippa Gregory think d'Eon's name is Lia? Surely Gregory isn't getting her information from social media? Right? But none of her cited sources identify Lia as d'Eon's name. In fact one of her cited sources, D'Eon Returns to France: Gender and Power in 1777 by Gary Kates, is one of the few secondary sources that does mention that d'Eon's name was Charlotte. Is Gregory even reading her own sources?
This issue isn't unique to Philippa Gregory it's a common issue in pop history. If you want to cover a broad topic that will appeal to a wide audience, like 900 years of women's history, you almost certainly are not going to study every aspect in significant detail. Can we really expect Philippa Gregory to do in-depth research into one individual she only talks about for 7 paragraphs? Of course not. So the research gets lazy.
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"The memory of [Emma of Normandy] was of a generous patron. At Ely an inventory made in 1134 listed her gifts of precious textiles to the church. They included an altar frontal worked in gold and silver with an image of Christ in majesty, seven cloths with gold worked fringes (orfrey) and one of rich purple fabric, perhaps shot silk taffeta (purpura), adorned all round with orfrey work and precious stones, a purpura pall for each saint and each altar, and four woollen dorsals. The twelfth-century Ely monks also recalled a blood red altar cloth with a gold border a foot wide, and the magnificent purpura one worked with orfrey and adorned in a chequer pattern with gold and gems which she made for them, as well as the gold and gem-worked silk cloths for each saint,’ and, richest of all, the cloth she gave to cover the tomb of St Æthelthryth. The twelfth-century Abingdon Chronicler told of the gold and silver shrine she and Cnut had given to the church. It bore an inscription recording the two hundred and ten mancuses of gold and twenty-two pounds of silver which had gone into its construction. At Winchester they remembered her striving with Bishop Ælfwine to adorn the church of St Swithun, a contest which she won.” Canterbury tradition recorded the cup of gold worth 13 marks, two altar cloths, two copes with gold tassels, and a golden ornamented text which Emma had given.
Canterbury was not the only church to which Emma gave books. She sent an English psalter to her brother Robert, Archbishop of Rouen. She and Cnut have been associated with a lively production of de luxe manuscripts in the third decade of the eleventh century, most of which were intended as gifts for English and foreign churches or individuals. Gifts of manuscripts linked Emma and Cnut with such English churches as York, Canterbury, London, New Minster and Bury, and with cross- Channel recipients in Germany, Scandinavia and France. Peterborough, with its strong ties to queens in general and Emma in particular, was a major centre of this production. Wulfstan of Worcester remembered how a skilled scribe and painter of manuscripts who had taught him there as a boy gave Emma and Cnut a psalter, which eventually ended up in Germany. Ervenius was the scribe who taught Wulfstan. He is the same Earnwig who followed Emma’s close associate Ælfsige as abbot of Peterborough.
Emma was an acquirer of relics, and her acquisitions were almost invariably followed by their distribution. When the bishop of Benevento visited England in Cnut’s reign, Emma bought from him the body of St Bartholomew, which he happened to have with him; she gave most of it to Christ Church Canterbury, though retaining the arm for herself. Whilst staying in Rouen after the death of Æthelred she bought the body of St Ouen, which she again split on her return to England, this time keeping the head for herself and giving the body to Canterbury. New Minster was thus particularly favoured by her gift of the head of St Valentinus. A queen’s gifts were much sought after, and sometimes the process of giving was shortcircuited. Emma kept the head of St Ouen; after her disgrace, her goldsmith purloined it from her reliquary and gave it to Malmesbury where his brother was a monk.
Sherborne attracted her largesse in a more standard way. According to Goscelin writing c. 1100, she and Cnut came to visit St Wulfsige’s shrine at Sherborne. There the king pointed out to her the poor state of the church; the poverty of the angelic citizen Wulfsige was an accusation of them, weighed down as they were by gold and jewelled ornament.” It was up to her to repair it. She gave twenty pounds’ worth of silver for the repair of the roof. Sherborne is a rare instance of Emma as a patron of buildings. She may have contributed more than general support and intercession to the development of Bury and St Benet Holme.’ But according to the surviving sources her most generous building patronage was far away in western France where the rebuilding of St Hilaire at Poitiers was in ‘large part paid for by the queen of the English'.
The patronage of both Emma and [her daughter-in-law Edith also included] land. Emma gave Newington to Christ Church, acquiring it from Cnut after Ælfric forfeited it; she bequeathed land at Kirby to Bury, and together with Harthacnut gave land to Ramsey for the soul of Cnut. Edith was remembered as a benefactor of Wells, granting Milverton and Mark to bishop Giso. Emma almost certainly made gifts of land to the Old Minster, Winchester, where she and Cnut were buried: her son Edward confirmed her grant of the urban property of Godebegot in Winchester to the Old Minster, and after 1066 the Old Minster claimed that she had left them land at Hayling Island in reversion, after the death of her servant Wulfweard the White."
-Pauline Stafford, Queen Emma and Queen Edith: Queenship and Women's Power in Eleventh-Century England
#Emma of Normandy#11th century#anglo-saxons#historicwomendaily#my post#cnut the great#I *love* Emma of Normandy I can't believe I forgot about all these posts about her in my drafts 🤡#women in history
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Is Jonathan turning into a vampire?
I saw someone say that Jonathan's reactions to Dracula in the Piccadilly confrontation make him seem less human, and that has gotten me thinking about the 'Jonathan is turning into a vampire like Mina' theory I've seen others discuss.
Now, I have to pay attention to Dracula Daily/ Re: Dracula going forward because my husband has my copy of the book so I can't dig around for evidence later in the book right now, but here is what I have noticed from entries in the timeline thus far:
Personally, even though it's not explicitly stated, I think Jonathan was bitten on Dracula's final night in the castle. It's his blood that revives Dracula's youth, and I think that is why he reacts violently to seeing the blood dripping from Dracula's mouth.
We also know from Van Helsing that anyone bitten by a vampire will become one. What complicates this is Dracula's blood exchange with Mina, if biting her is enough to turn her then why have her drink his blood? I theorize that having a victim drink his blood allows him to have a connection with or influence on them that he otherwise would not. He seems unaware that Lucy is dead when he gloats about the group's women belonging to him, and as there is no evidence that Lucy received his blood then it would make sense that he doesn't have that connection with her and thus, would be unaware of her true death. Going by this logic, If Jonathan is turning into a vampire then it seems unlikely that he received the Count's blood as he doesn't seem to have any mental link to Dracula either. I have seen the argument that Dracula did have a mental connection with Jonathan that was broken when he began to target Lucy instead, as Dracula Daily made it clear that Jonathan's 'brain fever' broke on the day that Lucy sleepwalked (slept-walked?) to Dracula.
Jonathan is likely Anglican, and says that his religion finds crucifixes and the like 'idolatrous', meaning that it's unlikely he would commonly come into contact with religious items in his day-to-day life. When he was in the convent/hospital he was delirious and in bad physical condition, it's possible that-like Mina with the wafer- he was reacting negatively due to his latent vampirism. Perhaps the early, prolonged exposure to religion suppressed his vampirism, and it fades away as he gets away from it. It could explain his slow recovery in England.
(It is also interesting to note that, while in the convent, Jonathan is being cared for by Sister Agatha. As a recovering Catholic I unfortunately retained some of my religious knowledge, and Nuns take on new names when they take their vows. Usually they take the name of a biblical figure that inspires them; in Sister Agatha's case it would be Saint Agatha who is, amongst other things, the patron saint of rape victims. Vampire bites have a loooooong history of being an allegory for sexual penetration and, with Mina's attack later in the novel being a clear reference to sexual assault, it seems likely to me that this was a subtle nod by Bram Stoker that Jonathan was bitten. Unfortunately it would likely have been censored if he had been more blatant given Victorian censorship laws.)
With this in mind, it's likely that seeing Dracula in London 'unlocked' his suppressed vampirism, and could explain him passing out. Though, admittedly, he does have a history of fainting when confronted with horrific things.
Going back to Jonathan's connection to sacred items, we never see him come into contact with any directly. When the group is entering Carfax Jonathan is handed two vampire deterrents, a wreath of garlic flowers and an envelope with a bit of communion wafer in it. Jonathan makes a point to mention that the garlic is withered however; I have to wonder why it was specifically called out as withered. Could that lower it's efficacy? As for the eucharist, well, it's in an envelope. The Count, a full vampire, reacts badly to it when the envelope is brandished at him. However, Mina, not yet fully turned into a vampire, seems to only be negatively affected when it touches her skin directly.
Another piece of evidence that I find interesting is Jonathan's hair color change. Listening to Re: Dracula made me realize that we have another character whose hair changed color; Lucy after her death. Vampire Lucy is described with dark hair, whereas in life her hair was compared to sunshine (meaning she was most likely blonde). Now we have Jonathan, whose hair was described as dark brown by Seward, turning white. The Characters write it off as shock despite the sudden change (shock/stress would have caused it to grey over time, realistically speaking), but it is interesting to note the link to vampire Lucy.
Jonathan's quick responses to Dracula's presence in the Piccadilly house are also notable. You could argue that it's the daytime so the Count is not as fast as he would be otherwise, but Seward points out that he, Arthur and Quincey are all experienced hunters and yet Jonathan, who Seward described as a 'quiet, business-like gentleman' when he met him 5 days earlier, is the first person to react. Jonathan goes so far as to climb out of the window to follow Dracula when he retreats.
It is entirely possible that Jonathan is in denial of having been bitten; he says himself while in the castle that 'I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul.' He would likely have been bitten on the neck, a place he can not see without a mirror, and Dracula makes a point to destroy the only mirror Jonathan had. Jonathan specifically notes that there are no other mirrors in the castle, either. Thus, if he was bitten but reluctant to admit it, he would have had no way to see if he had a wound and it would further justify his reaction to finding Dracula bloated with blood in his tomb. Denial is a hell of a drug. If he can not confess it to himself, it seems unlikely that he would tell anyone else, especially after his illness that affected his perception of reality.
As I said, I don't currently have access to my copy of the book to check the future dates so I will look for more evidence as we get the daily releases, but I think there is pretty strong evidence that Jonathan is in the process of turning and doesn't realize it.
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STRANGERS TO LOVERS FIC REC, Part II: Below you will find more fics that have Harry and Louis barely knowing one another before intimacy. (Part I)
📖 Let Your Heart Be Light by @cyantific (77k)
Louis Tomlinson, a self-proclaimed holiday-hater, loses his job two weeks before Christmas. Broke and desperate to see his family back home in England, he takes the only job left at the mall as one of Santa’s helpers. Harry is an unconventional mall Santa, the youngest one they’ve had in years, but with as much holiday spirit as any other seasoned Saint Nick. He’s determined to un-Grinch the new guy in Santa’s Village if it takes until Christmas, then he finds out the devastating reason Louis has lost his Christmas cheer. Will Harry be just the thing Louis needs to help him get his sparkle back?
Featuring Liam as the manager at Santa's Village, Niall as an easy-going Irish elf and Harry's best friend, grumpy Grinch Louis and his best friend Zayn and one matchmaking Mrs. Claus.
📖 where the tide takes you, i will follow by @pinkcords (53k)
There’s no way around his departure, their inevitable fate. Harry will leave and he will return to London and when he sits in his new flat, wherever it might be, he will think of this summer and the warmth the sun brought him and the way it felt to be loved. He will compare all his future relationships to Louis and when they fall short, he will be disappointed. Harry knows this.
Or, Louis lives in Gloucester and Harry tries to find a way to stay.
📖 You're The Christmas Wonder, That Makes Me A Believer by @lousluv91 (44k)
There were two things that every person in Louis Tomlinson's life knew for sure.
First, he was a perfectionist. A hard-working person, a caretaker who took his responsibilities seriously and often appeared to be kind of intimidating. Though those he trusted also knew his very soft and loving side.
The other thing they all knew was that Louis hated Christmas.
or the one where Louis is a grinch and Harry teaches him to love Christmas. Maybe Louis falls in love with more than just the holidays.
📖 Purring In My Lap (The Kitty Fic) by @yoursolosong (40k)
Louis and Harry are two strangers who find an abandoned kitten at the same time and argue over who's going to keep it. Begrudgingly, they decide to co- parent because they're both stubborn and don't trust the other to take proper care of the kitty.
📖 now you're in my life (I can't get you off my mind) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (32k)
In reality, it’s a little different. Because as much as Harry loves the concept of dating, the reality sucks.
📖 Ding-Dong! Daybreak by @thinlinez (28k)
All it took was a flat bike tire, confusing usernames, pumpkin flavored biscuits, a chaotically supportive dog and food deliveries at daybreak for Omega Louis to fall hard.
📖 Sweet as Honey by @teamlouis2023 (21k)
Louis has always been shit at cooking. When he discovers Sweet as Honey on Instagram, owned by chef Harry Styles, he intends to mock him by recreating his recipes with his awful skills, posting photos on his own Instagram account, Nailed It. It's all fun until Harry asks to meet him.
📖 I Just Want To Start a Flame in your Heart by @peachbootylouis (21k)
Harry’s impending album release meant promo season was in full swing. While at an industry party with his manager, a harp player catches his eye and Harry is instantly bewitched.
📖 Checking Them Out?: How To Use Your Library Science Degree To Get an Alpha by @insightfulinsomniac (20k)
When a flirty, attractive alpha patron checks out an entire shelf of literature on omega behavior and omega rights, Harry can’t help but wonder why the man is so interested — is he a really attentive partner, or is he just a creep?
It doesn’t help that this alpha visits weekly to exchange his books… and that he smells absolutely divine.
Whether he likes it or not, Harry has a crush.
📖 lucky me, lucky you by @sun-lt (17k)
He wants to let Louis have that—have him, on his knees, easy and good and willing—badly.
📖 Be Mine? by @softfonds (11k)
Getting dumped the week before Valentine's Day wasn't in Harry's plans, and neither was being dragged to a concert to forget about it. But a sign Zayn brings manages to turn his night around in more ways than he hoped for.
📖 i need something, so tell me something new by @alwaysxlarrie (10k)
Louis goes on vacation to New York City to enjoy the good weather and good food - he even has a list of restaurants he wants to eat at. Much to his delight, his first restaurant stop includes a gorgeous curly boy and his nosy but supportive best friend. Maybe he'll get more than what he came here for.
📖 Wait by the Light of the Moon by @jaerie (5k)
Being a single parent of a newborn was not in Harry's plan. He can barely keep himself together doing everything on his own. He can't explain why he finds comfort in his neighbour next door, but apparently it's mutual.
📖 Get Nesting & Soft Knots by @pocketsunshineharry (5k)
AU where Omega Louis who runs a nesting materials Youtube channel meets Alpha Harry who knits his own blankets
📖 Perfect, For Now by @parmahamlarrie (4k)
Moving to a new city is always hard, being away from home, finding your new community - none of it is easy. Dealing with all of this while being touch deprived is even more difficult.
That is where omega Harry Styles finds himself a few months into his move to Brighton.
Then a mysterious alpha's scent enters his life, and he finds that he can't stay away.
📖 Unplant by @hellolovers13 (4k)
Louis should've looked where he was going, then he wouldn't have to desperately try to save a little flower now.
📖 She is Beauty, We are World Class by @exquisitelycloseted (3k)
A 70's London AU where Louis loses himself, and Harry finds him before he gets lost.
📖 Netflix Original by @allwaswell16 (1k)
Harry's hot neighbor overhears that he doesn't have Netflix.
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Movie Musical Divas Tournament: Round 3
Ann Miller (1923-2004): Claire Huddesen in On the Town (1949) | Beverly Ross in Reveille with Beverly (1943) | Lois Lane/Bianca in Kiss Me Kate (1953) | Nadine Hale in Easter Parade (1948)
"Often overlooked, relegated to the side, brought in just to showcase her ridiculous fast tapping, Ann Miller was a toe-tapping diva from a very early age and kept going till late in her life. There are many things claimed about Ann Miller(her age, how fast she could actually tap, her actual name) but the truth remains that she was a star and a diva that gifted the movie musicals with so much talent." - @tabbyofwisdom
Angela Lansbury (1925-2022): Em in The Harvey Girls (1946) | Eglantine Price in Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971) | Ruth in Pirates of Penzance (1983) | Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd (1982) | London Speciality in Till the Clouds Roll By (1946) | Mrs. Claus in Mrs. Santa Claus (1996)
"The patron saint of girls and young women labeled character actors at a young age, there are few people in the history of cinema who can claim a career as long and iconic as Angela Lansbury’s. Despite near constant sidelining and regularly being cast to play characters decades older than her, she managed to create a resume full of iconic characters and performances. In addition, she used her star power to advocate for AIDS research while it was still a taboo subject, as well as create roles for older actors to help them stay afloat." - anonymous
This is Round 3 of the Movie Musical Divas tournament. Additional polls in this round may be found by searching #mmround3, or by clicking the link below. Add your propaganda and support by reblogging this post.
ADDITIONAL PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT: ALL POLLS HERE
Ann Miller:
"her LEGS man hER LEGSSSS. please pit her against cyd charisse so we can have a leg-off" - anonymous
"Nothing can recreate being eleven, bi but not knowing it, and watching Kiss Me, Kate for the first time. I didn't know if I wanted Ann Miller or wanted to be Ann Miller, and honestly, that's still the case." - anonymous
youtube
Photos and video submitted by: @tabbyofwisdom | Photo submitted by: @funnygirlthatbelle
Angela Lansbury:
"Because of Sondheim's continued insistance on making his musicals as accessibly viewable as possible, we have the glorious Sweeney Todd proshot that captures Angela Lansbury's career-defining performance as Mrs. Lovett. Many have followed. None of have baked a better pie." - anonymous
"Angela Lansbury lost the Emmy eighteen times. Don't let her lose again. She deserves this as one of our most beloved gay icons. She is happiness personified and the world is dimmer without her." - anonymous
youtube
Photos submitted by: @mygreatadventurehasbegun, @funnygirlthatbelle | Video submitted by: anonymous
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The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in July 2024
09/07 On behalf of Princess Anne, as Royal Fellow of the Royal Academy of Engineering, Sir Tim represented HRH at the Annual Awards Dinner at the Peninsula London and awarded winners with the Princess Royal Silver Medal. 🥈
~ Return to duties after injury ~
12/07 As President of the Riding for the Disabled Association, attended the National Championships at Hartpury University Equine Centre. 🐎🎖️
17/07 As Colonel-in-Chief of the Intelligence Corps, visited 4 Military Intelligence Battalion at Bulford Barracks in Salisbury. 🕵️♀️
Unofficial Sir Tim Attended the State Opening of Parliament. 👩⚖️
19/07 Opened Worcestershire Acute Hospitals NHS Trust’s new Emergency Department at Worcestershire Royal Hospital. 🏥
As Patron of the Three Counties Agricultural Society, opened Kildare Hall at the Three Counties Showground in Malvern. 🚜🌾
22/07 Unofficial Departed from Heathrow Airport for France and arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport for the Paris Olympic Games. 🥇
23/07 As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and Chairman of the International Olympic Committee Members Election Commission, attended day one of the International Olympic Committee Session at the Palais des Congrès de Paris. 💼🇫🇷
24/07 The Princess Royal, As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and Chairman of the International Olympic Committee Members Election Commission, attended day two of the International Olympic Committee Session at the Palais des Congrès de Paris. 💼🇫🇷
As President of the British Olympic Association, attended a Reception in the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, to welcome Team GB to the XXXIII Paris Olympic Games. 🇬🇧🇫🇷
25/07 As President of the British Olympic Association, visited the Team GB Preparation Camp. 🇬🇧
As Member of the International Olympic Committee, attended the International Olympic Committee President’s Reception and Dinner at the Musée du Louvre, Paris. 🍽️🍾
26/07 As Patron of the Eric Liddell 100, visited the Scots Kirk Paris Presbyterian Protestant Church in Paris. ⛪️🇫🇷
With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, attended a screening of the Opening Ceremony of the 2024 Paris Olympic Games at Team GB House. 📺🇫🇷🇬🇧
27/07 With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, attended the XXXIII Olympic Games in Paris, France. 🏉
With Sir Tim As Member, International Olympic Committee, attended a World Rugby Executive Board Celebration of Rugby Sevens Reception at Stade de France, Paris. 🍾 🏉
28/07 With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, visited the Team GB Performance Lodge, in Clichy, France. 🇬🇧
With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, attended the XXXIII Olympic Games in Paris, France. 🏇🏼🏊♂️
29/07 With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, attended the XXXIII Olympic Games in Paris, France. 🏇🏼
30/07 With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, attended the XXXIII Olympic Games in Paris, France. 🏒
With Sir Tim As President of the British Olympic Association, visited the Team GB House. 🇫🇷🏠
31/07 With Sir Tim As Member of the International Olympic Committee, and President of the British Olympic Association, attended the XXXIII Olympic Games in Paris, France. 🚣
With Sir Tim As President of the British Olympic Association, visited the Olympic Village, Pleyel, Bords de Seine in Saint-Denis. 🏠🇫🇷
Total official engagements for Anne in July: 18
2024 total so far: 174
Total official engagements accompanied by/represented by Tim in July: 9
2024 total so far: 79
FYI - due to certain royal family members being off ill/in recovery I won't be posting everyone's engagement counts out of respect, I am continuing to count them and release the totals at the end of the year.
#aimees unofficial engagement count 2024#july 2024#princess anne#princess royal#tim laurence#timothy laurence#court circular#operation working royal tim 🫡
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Saint George and the Dragon
Artist: Gustave Moreau (French, 1826–1898)
Medium: OIl on Canvas
Date: 1889-1890
Collection: National Gallery, Central London
Description
Saint George was a Christian soldier in the Roman army. He was of Cappadocian Greek descent and served in the Praetorian Guard for emperor Diocletian. He was sentenced to death for not renouncing his Christian faith, and after his death, he was venerated as a saint and megalomartyr. He has been particularly revered as a military saint since the Crusades, and is honored by Christians, Druze, and some Muslims as a martyr of monotheism.
Saint George is remembered in hagiography as one of the Fourteen Holy Helpers and one of the most famous military saints. He is honored through the legend of Saint George and the Dragon. His memorial, Saint George‘s Day, is celebrated annually on the 23rd of April. Nations such as England, Ukraine, Ethiopia, and Georgia, along with Catalonia and Aragon in Spain and Moscow in Russia, have all claimed George to be their patron saint. He is also the patron of several regions, cities, universities, professions, and organizations. The Church–Mosque of Saint George in Lod (Lydda), Israel, is said to contain his remains.
#saint george#dragon#soldier#roman army#symbolism#gustave moreau#french painter#oil on canvas#horse#landscape#19th century painting#queen#legend#catholicism
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