#we behave when a nun or priest is around

[rosered-schneeweisschens-sis]

@writing-prompt-s

as a girl who went to a catholic school, I would love this.

My parents sent me away to a very strict all-girls catholic school and a virus spread through the school that turned all the girls into massive werewolves and they started mauling all the teachers.

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart    Chapter 13

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Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: The Love Of A Son

Notes: Dragging myself through the last two chapters of this fic in the meantime. I guess the stress of daily life is getting to me. I’m sorry. Also, I think this is where the larger chapters start.

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +120K

Chapter:  13 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

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The axe narrowly missed the fool who had sneaked up on you.

They had stumbled back before it could cut through their chest.

Their voice was familiar “Bloody hell! Watch out with that thing!”

Your attacks stopped “Green Knight?”

He kept a distance now, weary of the axe in the hands of a spooked woman “Perhaps I shouldn’t have approached you like this. But do you always start swinging weapons? You’ll kill someone.”

Awkwardly you put the axe back were you found it and saw him look relieved “Sorry. I am just trying to be alert.”

He blurted out “That you are.” then pointed at the horse “Found him in the possession of a known thief. He was rather eager to part with this steed after he learned who the horse belonged to.”

You kept quiet, waiting to see if he knew who was in the barn.

The knight made no secret of it “A Fey scout saw two nuns and a boy drag the Weeping Monk onto a wagon in the woods. It’s bound to draw attention.”

In retrospect, that would pull anyone’s attention…

You wondered why he was there “We found them injured, the Trinity Guard tried to kill them. I thought you had been captured… why are you here?”

Gawain explained “I am here for the boy, Percival. And to help your Monk.”

It come out a little defensive “He’s not my Monk.”

The knight would not hear it and casually stated “Yes, he is. They are in the barn aren’t they?”

When he turned to walk to the barn door, you blocked his path and demanded to know “Why would you help him?”

He knew who you were talking about “All Fey are brothers, even the lost ones. I know what he is, y/n, and so do you.”

Was it so obvious that you knew Lancelot so well?

Gawain continued to walk to the barn, you followed in his tracks.

Quickly you informed him “He was badly wounded. Percival has bruises.”

He gestured for you to enter first, already planning ahead “After you.”

You quietly opened the barn door and walked in, only to be whisked away.

The knight was not surprised in the slightest and kept a safe distance while peeking around the corner to see the Ash Man cover your mouth and hold you away from danger, the sword ready in his hand “I come bearing no ill will against you, Brother.”

The sarcasm dripped from Lancelot “You have only come to return my horse?”

The last time he had seen this man, the knight could not even walk anymore. his skin had been burned and marked by Brother Salt, one of those marks resided in his neck and had become nothing more than a strange scar.

As if something rested beneath the scar now.

Gawain dryly answered “I recognized the horse from when you had me draped over it after stabbing me. I decided to return it, you’re welcome.”

You pried the hand from your mouth “He’s here to help. He knows Percival.”

The knight confirmed it “She’s right. I’ve come to take Percival home to his people.”

Lancelot released you but took a defensive stance towards Gawain “The boy is not going anywhere!”

The boy was still sleeping, he would not hand over the child to just anyone.

It did not frighten Gawain in the slightest “It is only a matter of time before they find the two of you, Ash Man. I have heard of the slaughter in the paladin camp. That was you was it not?”

He gave an arrogant nod, then the threat followed “They tried to stop me from keeping Percival safe, learn from their mistake.”

The knight sighed “If you would listen to me for a moment, you would learn that I wish to take the both of you with me. It will be safer where I am heading and as I have told you days ago, we need people who can fight. I meant what I said, those were not just the words of a dying man.”

You shared a look with Lancelot and found yourself moving closer against his side.

Gawain noticed and tried to reason with you as well “He belongs with his people now.”

It broke your heart to hear it. But it was true… only with the Fey would he find answers to everything that still haunted him.

Lancelot remained vigilante “How could I trust you? I do not even know how you survived, the last thing I heard was that you were dying and being taken to Uther’s camp.”

Gawain looked down at the ground “My dear friend saved my life with the power of The Hidden. The ‘witch’ you were ordered to hunt, our Fey queen, sacrificed her life for our people. Father Carden spend weeks hunting down a girl who was braver then all the Red Paladins combined. Percival was her friend too, if that boy is able to trust you then I owe it to the boy to offer you a chance to start anew.”

The Wolf Blood Witch was dead? It was the first he had heard of it.

You made Lancelot lower the sword “This is your chance, Lancelot.”

His attention snapped to you “I cannot just leave you-”

You did not let him protest further “You have to. It is too dangerous to remain here. It is as you said, they will be searching for you. I need you to be safe.” your sight glided to Gawain “I trust the Green Knight. He also came to help the little Fey girl, Neia, remember?”

The knight chimed in “Neia is doing well, she is not as frightful as she first was.”

It pleased you to hear it and you hoped Lancelot would take this opportunity “See. Lancelot, you said you would help Percival get back to the Fey. Like this, the two of you could remain together.”

He had a choice now…a chance to be with his kind, you had to let him take it.

Gawain began to believe it was not the lack of trust that was stopping the Ash Man from tagging along “Now that Father Carden is dead and you’re away, the paladins are disorganized. Now is the time to travel before too many of the Trinity Guards show up. Come with me, Ash Man. You’ll be able to stay alongside the boy, I swear it.”

Lancelot’s expression changed completely “What?”

You couldn’t believe it either “Did you just say that my uncle is dead?”

The knight had thought the news would have reached you by now “I am sorry. He did not survive the attack on Uther’s camp.”

You had not know your uncle well enough to mourn, but Lancelot had.

The sword was lowered and he moved past Gawain to walk out and towards Goliath.

You feared he would ride off to somewhere, which would be unwise in his condition, instead he stopped right beside the horse.

He took hold of the reins and faced away from the direction you and the knight were in.

You pointed to where the boy was sleeping “Percival is sleeping over there, feel free to wake him and speak to him. I need to speak to Lancelot alone for a moment.”

Gawain understood, he was no stranger to the stories of the Weeping Monk spending his whole life protecting the priest.

  When you neared him, it was clear he had gone to the loyal steed for comfort.

The outlines of the marks beneath his closed eyes were glowing red, tears traced their path down his cheek. The magic in him reached the surface by the suffering the news had caused in him.

You didn’t know what to say…

So, you went to stand right next to him, your arm touching his, your hand went to rest on his shoulder.

Everything he felt was conflicting inside, sorrow and rage combined their power and tore him down. All these years, everything had been to earn the love of a father and salvation. And now he would never have either.

Father had forced his hand and pushed him past any limit, he had raised him into a weapon.

And still, to know that he would never have Father’s recognition pained him greatly.

In the end, nothing he had done mattered.

The only thing left was the blood of the Feys, of his kind, on his hands.

And here he was, mourning the man who had made him into what he was.

A traitor to the Church and to his people.

His mouth opened to speak, he couldn’t bring out what he wished to say “I…”

It was heartbreaking to see “Breath.”

He took the advice and took a couple of shallow breaths “I do not want to become him.”

He was tired of walking the path forced on him, it had numbed all he was.

To survive…the expectations had suffocated the hope and faith out of him.

And he was ashamed of it, even now.

Your voice was quiet “You won’t.”

His tone was almost a snarl “Then why can I not hate him?”

After every insult, every threat and every hit…

It wasn’t personal, he was mourning “You were taught not to.”

Finally, his eyes opened and sought yours.

Taught…

To obey.

To serve.

To kill.

Deep down, he knew it was true “Is that what you believe?”

Did he fear you questioned if his sorrow was real?

You never let go off his shoulder “He raised you. You were just a child. What we say to children influences them, words of love or hatred, no matter how little. I believe you loved him, even after everything he has done to you.”

He turned and caught your hand as it moved from his shoulder.

You could see him calm himself, but his eyes betrayed him still.

With both hands, he held on to yours “I need to know the truth about the Fey, about what I am. I will only learn if I search for the answers myself.”

No more scriptures, no more lies or inaccuracies. He needed to know the truth.

He prepared himself to say it “You were right.” eyes locked on yours “I owe it to the Fey. I shall go with the Green Knight.”

Hearing it made you proud and sad at the same time, proud that he was allowing himself to grow and sad that it meant you would be seperated again.

It must have been visible on your face, because he softly brushed his knuckles down your cheek.

Staying here for much longer would endanger you and Sister Anne, he prayed you could forgive him “I am sorry.”

Even though your voice broke, you still managed a small smile “I understand. All I want is for you to find your happiness.”

He frowned, then firmly spoke “I have.” and lightly cupped your cheek “I hope it will still be here when I return for it.”

It had sounded like a request…

This time the smile was genuine “Fear not, the mark will still be there when you do.”

It brought him some peace of mind to know that you would not break the bond.

Goliath brought out a noise and bumped his nose into the side of Lancelot’s head, clearly done with his rider’s shenanigans.

It was needed to pull him back to the matters at hand, he took hold of the halter and scolded “Patience, Goliath.”

The look you shared was bittersweet, this was a goodbye.

Again…

He read your eyes and assured “When it is safer, I will return for you. I swear it.”

There was no doubt in your mind about it “I know.”

Such trust in him…

You saw his gaze drop from your eyes and land on your lips.

He seemed to snap himself out of the trance and signaled for you to walk beside him while he leaded the horse to the barn door.

Lancelot saw how Percival was awake and very happy to see the Green Knight alive “Green Knight?”

Gawain turned to look at the Ash Man “Have you decided?”

He gave a nod and went to put the aketon on and take his cloak “I will join you along with Percival.”

Percival was pleased to hear it and came to hand you the cloak back “So, we are all going together?”

Gawain had to explain it to the boy “I am sorry, Percival. Y/n won’t be able to come along. It would not be safe for her. As Father Carden’s niece, the Church will have their eyes on her whereabouts. Once some time has passed, it will be safer for her to join us.”

You would draw attention and there was a high possibility that the Fey would not be happy to have you around, Lancelot alone would already be faced with discontent.

It halted the boy “But-”

Lancelot felt the storm coming “No ‘but’.” he turned to you “May we take the basket with us?”

You went to grab it for them and handed it to Percival “If you give me a moment, I can go and see if I can find more food in the abbey’s kitchen.”

He wanted to refuse the offer, but it was Gawain who considered it wise.

Food was difficult to come by for the Fey.

The knight spoke up “If you could, that would be great.”

  You headed out of the barn and made the short walk to the abbey.

The only thing you truly worried about was that the Abbess would be drinking her nightly ‘tea’ again.

It was nerve-wracking to open the door that led directly into the kitchen. All was dark, no candlelight to be seen.

Good.

You took another basket and began to fill it with what you could find and what wouldn’t be caught missing easily.

A loaf of bread, some more cheese and berries. A tomato,a carrot and two apples…

Then you sneaked to your room and went through some of your finished knitted items, grabbing the scarf you had finished last week.

Somewhere between the search for items, tears had fled from your eyes at the impending second separation.

You tried to hold yourself together and even wondered if he could feel your sorrow through the mark that linked you to him, as you had felt his pain and sorrow through it.

With the basket filled, you sneaked out of the abbey again.

While passing Goliath, you broke the carrot into smaller pieces and fed it to him.

As you were doing that, the three of them walked out of the barn.

They were leaving already…

You had to keep your focus on Goliath or risked crying in front of them.

Gawain gestured to the horse while speaking to Lancelot “You should ride. I will walk.”

Lancelot looked at Percival, curious whether the boy would choose to ride or walk “And you?”

The boy thought for a second, then shrugged his shoulders “I’ll walk for a while.”

You moved passed them and into the barn, correctly assuming he’d forget something important.

They were all looking when you walked out again and towards Lancelot “You forgot the ointment. Use it everyday until your wounds feel better.”

The bowl was handed to him and he stored it into Goliath’s saddle bag, hoping it would not spill.

You took the moment to say your farewells to Percival, lifting a finger under his cheek while doing so “Such a brave and handsome young lad you are. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

Both Gawain and Lancelot were amused by how the boy started to resemble the tomato in the basket you had brought.

You took the scarf from the basket and placed it neatly around Percival’s neck “This will keep you a little warmer.”

Percival quietly uttered “Thank you.”

Gawain spoke under his breath to Lancelot “I never saw him so quiet before.”

Ah, so it was indeed uncommon.

Your gaze traveled to Lancelot, who came closer upon noticing it.

His eyes flowed over your face slow like a river’s stream “I won’t get into too much trouble.”

The jest was returned “You’re just saying that in the hopes that I’ll call you handsome and brave too.”

He hummed and failed to fight off that boyish smile.

You gestured to him “Be careful. And don’t tear those stitches open.”

He was well aware of the curious looks aimed at him by Percival and the knight, it is why he moved closer to you so little and hoped you would understand the intention and request behind it.

That small step closer had you curious until realization hit, he would not ask… not when others were near and not in words.

And it was not necessary, you would always oblige the unspoken request.

When you closed the distance and pulled him into an embrace, you could’ve sworn he let out a relieved sigh. And perhaps you were being a little demanding by hugging him so tightly, yet no complaints came.

You felt him bring a hand to your back and lightly grabbing hold.

Percival looked up at the display, sensing that something was…odd.

Gawain already suspected what that ‘oddness’ was, he cleared his throat and watched the two of you break apart “We should be heading out.”

The last thing Lancelot did before mounting Goliath was give your arm a comforting squeeze.

The Green Knight made a slight bow before heading off with them into the woods.

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  After sneaking yourself back into the abbey and to your room, you couldn’t fall asleep.

How long would it be before you would see him again?

Would they be safe? Would the food be enough until they reached the place Gawain had in mind?

It kept you wide awake through the rest of the night. In the morning you went to Anne’s room to tell her they were gone, you left out the part where Gawain had come to find them, it was best for her not to know too many details on something that could get her into trouble for knowing them.

She was cutting the carrots beside you in the kitchen that noon, while you washed and cut the tomatoes, her voice a hushed whisper “I can’t believe the Monk is walking again. Do you think some Feys have the ability to heal faster than normal?”

You looked around to see if someone was listening in “I don’t know. I never thought of it.”

But now that she mentioned it…

She tempered her own curiosity “I shouldn’t be asking. If the Abbess knew I have helped Fey-kind, she would probably hand me over to the paladins for judgment.”

You understood the concern “I am sorry for dragging you into this. I know you have taken great risks when you decided to help me.”

She wouldn’t hear it “I would not feel good if I turned my back on someone who needed help. You didn’t drag me into anything.”

You handed her the tomatoes that were finished “Well, you certainly earned yourself another pair of socks.”

Anne was not opposed to it “Make sure they fit.”

The witty remark was deserved, you really needed to practice knitting socks more “Alright, alright, I’ll do my best.”

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  Later that day, the Abbess had summoned you to talk.

Of course you feared someone might have seen something and told her. But the Abbess’ reason to speak to you privately was to inform you of your uncle’s passing.

Fear turned to relief, until you realized that relief was not what the Abbess would be expecting.

You felt a little guilty for having to pretend to feel sad at the news, you weren’t happy, but your short time with the man had not given you many reasons to miss him.

The Abbess was kind enough to relieve you of your duties for the day.

You had went to your room and began knitting, perhaps it was silly, but you hoped to make some things for when you would see them again. Especially for Percival, some warm socks and maybe even a hat if that would be possible.

Anne had found you a small book on knitting that held some descriptions on how to make some items. It was a clever gift considering the sizing mistake you had made before.

You would need to get more yarn at the market soon, it was almost all used up.

To delay that, you took apart some things you had made that were flawed to make the new items.

It was half a miracle that you were able to finish a pair of socks, and after bringing them to Anne you found out they were the right size this time.

Evening came and you had finished half a scarf when your eyes grew heavy. After putting the needles and yarn aside, you laid down to rest.

With the promise of his return, sleep came rather quick.

Only for it to be taken away so rudely when you were awoken the next morning by people nearly kicking your door in.

The Abbess tried to calm and reason with those who had come to collect you while poor Anne stood frozen in fear.

Masks of gold hid the faces of the armed force that dragged you from the room.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88  @fxrchxldws  @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake    @crystallizedtime  @moonlightaura03  @angrygardendeer  @have-aheart   @5am-cigarette @arcanenature  @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream @coloursforyourportrait @koressecretidentity @nike90 @n1ghtlux @rachlovesactors @luckyzipperscissorsbat @morena-doing-stuff  @the-fangirl-diaries @gipsydanger17 @heavenly1927  @phantasmalbeiing  @labyrinthonmymind  @asarcastic-thiamstan  @rainyv-skies​

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

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[themysticsoffering]

HILDEGARD, FEMINISM, AND THE CHURCH

I'm reading The 35 Doctors of the Church by Christopher Rengers, OFM Cap., and Dr. Matthew E. Bunson, KHS.

It's that "but never during Mass" tag that gets me. (See attached photos.)

The Roman Catholic author/editor of this book wants to make a definitive statement about a decided position on "the place" of women in the Church.

Except during the celebration of the Mass, Hildegard preached to everyone!

Reading between the lines, what the author says is that between the men of her day and Hildegard, there was no difference in ability, knowledge, insight or qualifications when it came to teaching. Hildy was equal to any man.

The only thing Hildegard lacked was permission (and a penis, frankly)!

The fact that she never preached at Mass but only teaching and preaching where/when the men willed her to go means that she was never to be seen as an authority figure but as an agent of the authority.

Hildegard didn't question the teachings of the Church. She didn't seek to rival those in power.

She certainly equaled the intellect, insight, and virtue of the men around her, perhaps she surpassed it.

Hildegard had little reason to be horrified about anything. She certainly wasn't timid!

It's not about the supremacy of Christ or cooperation in ministry as parts of the body working together as the whole,

the position of the Roman Catholic Church today continues to be in lock step with submission to what the hierarchy considers to be a well-ordered power.

Now the United States,In the absence of a priest, the nuns can preach and women who are parish administrators can give instruction to the faithful.

This says that there aren't enough men to go around. You are not worthy to have any determination if you sense a call to ordained ministry, but you can serve the purposes of those of us at the top who remain.

Tantamount to misogyny, the Roman Catholic Church continues a rather worldly stance on women holding authority.

The Church's exclusion is totally incongruent with the scope or vision of the Gospel and with the historic life of Christ or the present life of Christ in his mystical body, the Christian people.

In such views and practices, the Church behaves more like an institution and less like the healing, reconciling, redemptive, and exultant Church. it is called to be Christ in the WHOLE world, for the WHOLE world, not just a man's world.

Christ changed people. He pushed back against powers that be and intentionally shook the structure of the society he knew.

The world has changed because understanding has changed. Understanding changes because we have more knowledge than we had previously.

Is the Roman Catholic Church not to change as the world has grown? Is our understanding in conjunction with Christian faith something that should be relegated to a remote past, to older forms of understanding and practice?

Is Christ to be excluded from the growth and knowledge we operate in?

Is Christ just some teacher who died in 33 A D or is He our risen Lord alive in us today? What is our faith?

Does this church revere some idol with Christ's face or does it embody a risen, living Christ?

[amicidomenicani]

Question Good morning, Father Angelo, I hope you are fine. I have a question, and this time it's about my inner life. Until now I had never confided to anyone the story that I am going to humbly entrust to you. It is about my inner life. I started praying for priests in 2016. In practice, it was the year in which yet another story of sexual abuse had shocked the church and the world, especially the United States. I began to pray for the priests to thank Christ for the graces and the mercy he gave me. By praying for priests my spiritual life has progressively changed. I felt like Christ was acting and was more and more present in my life. I began to feel his presence more and more, and He began to provide for both my spiritual and material needs, and to guide my life along safe paths. It almost seemed that He, in his communication and in guiding me with his love, was addressing me directly. At first, I doubted it was true, but every time I delved through study and research, I realized that what I received in prayer was correct and real. Why does this happen, Father Angelo? Why did Christ suddenly start acting in my inner life? Over time my prayer for the priests increased: I started praying for my own priests, bishops, cardinals, to the point where I started praying for the Holy Father, Pope Francis. Like a small plant that turns into a big tree. And I didn't stop there. My prayers have extended to those who themselves pray and intercede, as nuns and sisters. And each time Christ responds with His providence. I ask for your opinion on this, dear father, and for advice on how to behave. Thank you very much. P.S. Since I came across this website, every time I pray for priests you are included too. Answer of the priest Dear friend, 1. I believe that there has been a positive turning point in your spiritual life precisely because of a particularly precious good work, which is the prayer done for priests. 2. Although conferred a particular sanctity by reason of the character imprinted on their soul in the day of their priestly ordination, they are not exempt from the temptations of the evil one. When St. Thomas wonders why Jesus Christ let himself be tempted, he replies that he did it “that we might be warned, so that none, however holy, may think himself safe or free from temptation. Wherefore also He wished to be tempted after His baptism, because, as Hilary says (On Matthew, 3): «The temptations of the devil assail those principally who are sanctified, for he desires, above all, to overcome the holy». Hence also it is written (Sir 2:1): «Son, when you come to the service of God, stand in justice and in fear, and prepare your soul for temptation»” (S. Th., III, 41, 1). 3. Your prayer communicates immense strength in the world. Alexis Carrell, a Nobel laureate in medicine who converted in Lourdes after a resounding miracle, said that "prayer is the most powerful form of energy we can arouse". After yet another scandal at the hands of priests, the Lord aroused in you the desire to pray for them. Indeed, it was the Lord who aroused this desire in you, “for God is the one who, for his good purpose, works in you both to desire and to work” (Phil 2:13). By reciprocating, it is as if you had opened the door to the Lord, who has entered even more into your life. St. Therese of the Child Jesus was right in saying that a well returned grace is followed by many others. 4. The temptations to which priests are exposed are of various kinds. I will just point out one: inurement to what they do. Accustomed to being in the Church and going around the altar, they may lose awareness of the greatness of their mission. I am writing to you on 23 September 2022, memorial of St. Padre Pio of Pietrelcina. Here is the advice he gave to one of his spiritual daughters: “Enter the church in silence and with great respect, considering and deeming you unworthy to appear before the Majesty of the Lord”.

The priest enters it all the time for a thousand reasons. And here he takes the risk of not thinking at all that he is standing before the Majesty of the Lord. Padre Pio also wrote to the same person: "When you leave church, have a collected and calm attitude: at first greet Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, ask him for forgiveness for the shortcomings committed in his divine presence and do not part with Him unless you have first obtained the paternal blessing”. Because of the constant coming and going, the priest is tempted not to think at all about the preciousness of that moment both for himself and for the faithful entrusted to him. If, on the contrary, the priest was aware of it, his life would be a continuous blessing: from the Lord to him, and from the priest to his faithful. 5. In a letter sent to his spiritual director, he wrote: “Pietrelcina, April 7, 1913. My dear father, I was still in bed on Friday morning when Jesus appeared to me. He was all battered and disfigured. He showed me a great multitude of regular and secular priests, among whom were several ecclesiastical dignitaries. Some were celebrating, while others were donning or taking off the sacred vestments. It was very painful for me to see Jesus in such distress, so I asked him why he was suffering so much. I did not receive any answer. Nevertheless, his gaze turned again on those priests; but soon after, as if horrified and weary of looking, he withdrew his gaze. And when he raised his eyes and looked at me, to my great horror I noted two tears coursing down his cheeks. He went away from that crowd of priests with an expression of great disgust on his face and cried out: «Butchers! ». Then turning to me he said: «My child, do not think that my agony lasted three hours, no. On account of the souls that I have benefited most, I will be in agony until the end of the world. During the time of my agony, my child, nobody should sleep. My soul goes searching for some drops of human compassion but alas, I am left alone beneath the weight of indifference. The ingratitude and the sleep of my ministers makes my agony all the more grievous. Alas, how little they correspond to my love! What afflicts me most is that they add contempt and disbelief to their indifference. Many times I have been on the verge of thunder against them, had I not been held back by the Angels and by the souls who love me. Write to your (spiritual) father and tell him what you have seen and heard from me this morning. Tell him to show your letter to the Provincial Father…»”. 6. This dramatic vision of Padre Pio leads to reflection. Therefore, continue to pray a lot for priests so that they are aware of their vocation and of the most holy realities of which they are ministers. In proportion to this prayer, the Lord will bless you more and more. Thank you very much for particularly including me in this prayer. I wish you well, I too bless you and gladly reciprocate a special remembrance in prayer. Father Angelo Translated by Chiara P.

[randomshyperson]

LEFT BEHIND - WANDA MAXIMOFF X READER - #02 "R.I.P to My Youth"

Summary: The one where you lived in the apartment under the Maximoff family in Sokovia, or, your journey as a Sokovian civilian to Avenger.

A/N: So, chapter two is here. Honestly, this story is a mess in my head haha but somehow people are enjoying so i'm sharing. Good reading!

Dictionary for this chapter: dvornyaga - mutt || chuma - plague/brat || Prostite, mem - sorry, ma'm || Vor - thief || printsessa - princess || skuchnyy - annoying ||

Series Warnings: (+16) Violence, fighting, cursing, civil war environments, abuse of power, assault, torture, underage kissing, psychological torture, substance use, mention of assault/fighting of children, smut, kissing, teasing, insinuation of sexual and moral harassment, verbal offenses. Chapter warnings: Underage kissing, violence.

Words: 3.268 K

All Works Masterlist || Read on AO3 || Part One || Series Masterlist

//-//

Chapter Two - R.I.P to My Youth

Sokovia, 7 years ago.

You ducked quickly when you noticed the punch coming toward you.

"Stand still, dvornyaga!" Said the teenager trying to hold you by the shoulders, but you slipped out of his hands, dodging under his arms and starting to run.

The boy rushed to catch up with you, but you were smaller, and fit into places he couldn't get into. Rolling into a crevice in one of the abandoned factories, you laughed as the boy and his friends shouted angrily at you, unable to follow.

Your joy died the second you turned the corner. The nursemaid from the orphanage waiting for you with her arms folded.

"Running away from chores again, chuma?" The woman asked angrily. You ducked your head, walking over to her. As soon as you reached her, she pinned your ear between her fingers, causing you to grumble in pain as you were dragged into the building.

"Prostite, mem." You tried to apologize, but the woman would not listen, and then pushed you inside.

"No dinner for you." She informed you by throwing a broom into your hands. "Get upstairs and go clean the roofs now!

You climbed onto the rooftops with a grimace, softly cursing all the sisters as witches.

When you arrived, you noticed that there were already other orphans there.

"Good afternoon, Vor." Pietro greeted wryly. You approached him to help him carry one of the tiles.

"Stop calling me that." You retorted, but Pietro just laughed, thanking you for your help afterwards. "Why are you here?"

"I broke Nikolai's nose." He told you, and you looked at him reproachfully.

"And you let them catch you?" You asked. "You used to be smarter than that."

"Shut up." He grumbled humorously, waiting for you to finish sweeping the area you were in to return the tile to its place. "And what did you do this time? Are you going to tell me that Madame Pavlova caught you robbing the church again?"

You laughed, finishing sweeping and going back to helping Pietro lift another tile.

"Church money is for the poor." You retort. "I'm poor, how can I steal what's mine?"

"Keep this up and you'll be in jail as soon as you get out of here." A voice spoke behind you, startling you a little.

"You're so nosy aren't you, Wanda?" You teased the girl, and she grimaced at you before looking at her brother.

"What are you doing up here?" Pietro asked before Wanda could speak again. The girl crossed her arms, watching you guys work.

"I brought food for you two. But with this hostility, I think I'll stay downstairs."

You and Pietro exchanged giggles.

"Sorry, Wanda." You asked in unison, making the girl smile. She looked around to check if there were no priests, or nuns, or orphans staring at you from the window pane below before taking some bagels and bread from a wrapper inside her blouse pocket.

"Is there any possibility that you will stop stealing and behave yourselves?" Wanda asked slightly irritated, and you exchanged a look with Pietro.

"Unlikely." You replied, making him laugh. Wanda looked at you reproachfully. "Don't make that face, printsessa. This is stealing too.”

"Don't call me that." Wanda complained between teeth. But you smiled, because you noticed the slight reddening of her cheeks. "And I wouldn't have to steal if you two would stop causing trouble."

"Or maybe you could let us starve next time." Pietro retorted wryly, and ended up getting slapped on the shoulder by his sister, making you laugh. "Sorry, that was stupid."

"You two are so ungrateful." She grumbled turning to leave. You and Pietro exchanged a look, worried that Wanda was angry. But she gave you two one last look before turning away. "Tomorrow, wake up early. I want to show something."

Wanda went down the roof next, and you exchanged a smile with Pietro before turning back to work.

//-//

Wanda poked you in the ribs and you turned your head quickly. You, she and Pietro were ducking behind a car, breaking curfew, and probably some passing law, since you were in an abandoned building.

"They arrived last week." Wanda said to the two of you, looking in the direction of the back door of the building. There were three men in suits talking in the doorway, and casually looking around to see if they were alone. "They stay there all day."

"What's suspicious about that?" Pietro asked.

"Do you guys remember those kids who disappeared last week?" Wanda asked and waited for you and Pietro to confirm before continuing. "I found the orphanage uniform in the dumpster from the building. What if they are picking up the orphans?"

"You said they speak german, right?" You retorted with a question. When Wanda confirmed, you made a thoughtful face. "What if they are Nazi doctors? They could be trying that supremacist shit again."

"I think we should leave." Pietro said next. "Before they see us here."

"Yeah, come on." Wanda agreed before taking one last look at the door meters away from you, the men were entering. Neither you or Pietro notice that one of them looked directly at the girl before closing the door.

//-//

Pietro advanced against you with his fists raised, but you ducked and shoved him in the ribs.

"Well done, Vor!" He spoke contentedly, sounding surprised. He took two more steps toward you, but you dodged, and threw your arms against his waist. You both laughed as you both fell back onto the grass. Pietro rolled you on the ground to get on top. "You can't let them knock you down, little one."

"I'm the one who knocked you down, asshole." You retort humorously, trying to get up. But Pietro is heavy on you.

"I'm letting you win, obviously." The boy says with a smile. You hate that Pietro has grown so big as to win in fights, but at least he helps you learn to fight with the kids on the street. Which was funny, since Wanda always told you to run.

"Oh, really?" You hit back and then raise your knee hard, hitting him in the balls. Pietro lets out an exclamation of pain and falls beside you to the floor, whimpering. You feel bad at the same moment. "Shit, I'm sorry, Piet." You ask, but let out a giggle, watching him gasp in pain.

"What are you two doing here?" A voice suddenly asked, and you looked forward to find the high school monitor looking at you two reproachfully.

"Shit." You grumbled already hurrying to get up and lift Pietro quickly, who seemed to fight the pain to follow you.

"Maximoff! I should know." The woman spoke annoyed, hurrying to cross the railing. You and Pietro were skipping calculus class in the usually empty area behind the gym. But before she finished crossing, you and Pietro were already running away, laughing at the curses the woman yelled at you, and something about detention for a month.

By the time you stopped running, you were in the city, in the alleyways of suburban Sokovia.

Pietro punched you under the shoulder the moment you stopped, and when you grumbled he said it was for the kick.

"Are you hungry?" You asked as you massaged the spot of the punch.

"Yes." He replied looking around. Some people looked curiously at you two, probably because you came to the scene running, but you ignored it.

"I'll get us some food." You let him know and then you are already walking away to the fair area a few meters ahead. Pietro rolls his eyes at the smug expression you cast at him before you put the cap of your jacket over your head.

//-//

"What have you two gotten yourselves into?" Wanda asked angrily, throwing her backpack on top of the torn armchair. You and Pietro took your eyes off the card game to look at her.

The little crib you set up in one of Sokovia's condemned buildings was cold and damp, but it was the closest thing to a home where no one cursed, or order any of you to clean and do any tasks, so it was your favorite place.

Usually the three of you would run away from the orphanage and school as much as possible to stay around here, but then Wanda started actually studying and you and Pietro didn't.

"Sorry, Wands, calculus isn't really our thing." You grumbled to the girl. Wanda approached you with her arms crossed.

"But athletics it is, I believe." She retorted. "If you keep skipping class, you'll get kicked off the team. The guidance counselor told me to warn you two, and she talked for half an hour, so thanks for that." Wanda grumbled ironically, and you kicked Pietro lightly to get him to stop laughing.

You reached out for the paper package you left in the corner of one of the armchairs.

"Maybe this will improve your mood, printsessa." You said as you handed the item to Wanda. She looked tired, and grimaced, grudgingly thanking you. She smiled weakly when she realized it was food. "I saved some bread for you too."

"You two need to stop stealing." She warned, but took a bite of her food. You shrugged, and returned your attention to the game.

"If we had enough food, I wouldn't need to steal anything." You retorted, and Pietro murmured in agreement, while Wanda frowned slightly.

"You could get some work, too." Wanda argues and you laugh, rolling your eyes.

"We've had this conversation a million times, printsessa."

"Stop calling me that." She asks annoyed.

You rolled your eyes again, and made a move. Pietro sighed slightly, since he was losing.

"I can call you skuchnyy, if you prefer." You retort humorously, and Wanda slaps you on the arm, making you and Pietro laugh.

"If you keep stealing, you'll end up in jail! Or worse, killed." She then adds, and you exchange a look with Pietro.

"Only if we get caught." The boy says and you hold back a laugh, seeing Wanda's disapproving look.

She lets out an impatient exclamation, and starts eating in silence. You focus on the game again, knowing that this discussion would happen again. Wanda would always complain that you were stealing, out of pure concern, and you and Pietro would continue to ignore it, out of necessity.

//-//

Sokovia, 6 years ago.

Gasping and out of breath, you kept running.

"I'm going to win." You heard Pietro shout excitedly beside you, running as fast as you.

"Shut up." You shouted back, but Pietro actually reached the finish line first. You laughed, though, trying to normalize your breathing as you sat on the ground.

Coach walked over to the two of you next, past the small crowd of students who were watching the race celebrating Pietro's victory.

"That was excellent, Maximoff." Congratulated the coach with a handshake. Pietro smiled embarrassed, and you laughed at his face.

"Come on, I'll buy you lunch to celebrate." You told the boy as soon as you stood up, and the coach had left. Pietro threw his arm around you, and you pushed him away. "Get off, you're sweaty."

He laughed, and you parted your ways in the locker room. After taking a shower, you found Pietro already wearing his regular clothes instead of his athletic clothes, but he was not alone. There was a man in a suit talking to him.

As you approached, the man looked at you and waved his hat before turning and leaving.

"What was that?" You asked curiously, but Pietro had a grim expression on his face. "Piete, are you okay?"

"Yeah." He says looking away from yours to the paper in your hands. He puts it away in his pocket before you can read it. "I need to talk to Wanda. Rain check on our lunch later."

"Okay." You mumble confusedly, watching Pietro walk away quickly.

//-//

"Pay attention, no one must see you. Go in quietly, place the packages, and leave without being seen." Warned the man in front of you. You swallowed dryly, but nodded in agreement.

You exchanged a glance with Pietro and Wanda before turning to enter through the small gap in the railing, one of the new commercial buildings on the other side.

Now that you were older, the protest groups accepted you at the marches. You and the twins had been participating for a few months now, and they were usually peaceful walks. But then one of the leaders learned that you could fit in small places, and here you were, sneaking into one of the new buildings that took the place of one of the apartment complexes, looking for the exact spot to place the packages that the group handed you.

Even though you were nervous, you made it. And it was only when you were outside that you heard an explosion much bigger than you expected.

When you saw one of the security guards with a bloody head, shouting in Sokovian for the vandals to be stopped while the rest of the protesters shouted and held up their placards, everything seemed to get a little muffled for you, and you could only focus on the powder marks on your fingers. Stumbling away, you ran.

//-//

Sokovia, 5 years ago.

"You two have lost your minds!" You exclaim in surprise and irritation, taking yourself off the wooden bench you were sitting on. Pietro and Wanda look at you with confusion.

"I told you she wouldn't understand." Pietro grumbles and you look at him with indignation.

"Really?" You retort. "Of course I don't understand, Pietro! You've both gone crazy for good!"

"Keep your voice down!" Pietro retorted angrily, getting up as he looked around. No lights had come on downstairs, so no one from the orphanage was awake. "We're doing this for Sokovia."

"Tell me how offering yourself as an experiment for German Nazis helps Sokovia?" You retorted angrily and Pietro sighed impatiently. "I can't believe you two are actually thinking of doing this."

"What do you think will happen next week when we turn eighteen, heh?" Pietro asked aggressively, and you clenched your jaw. "We'll be kicked out of the orphanage, and we'll be on the street. If we didn't have food before, imagine after that!"

"I can get us food!" You exclaim with tear-filled eyes, but Wanda gives a dry laugh.

"You're not going with us." Wanda retorts and you look at her wide-eyed. "You're going to stay here, where you have a roof and a meal, and we're not going to waste the opportunity to change things in Sokovia."

You looked at them incredulously.

"I can't believe you are going to die for your ambition."

Pietro crossed his arms, looking at you seriously. You looked at Wanda, but she looked away to the floor. Shaking your head, you ran your hands through your hair.

"We are doing this for our country." Pietro stated seriously. You disagreed with your head, feeling your throat close up from emotion. But you did not cry. "Some of us are willing to risk whatever it takes."

You give a dry laugh at the provocation. Pietro was only saying that because you stopped participating in the rallies, ever since the protests got more violent and your colleagues started damaging property, stealing, and there were even rumors of fighting that ended in killing.

"Yeah, Piete, you're right." You retorted upset. "You and Wanda want to die in a cell with needles in your arms, lying that this is for Sokovia and not to get revenge for your parents. But don't expect me to stay and watch."

You accuse bitterly before turning and walking off the roof, your tears flowing as you reach the floor below, but you don't stop walking.

//-//

"What are you doing here?" You asked as soon as you raised your head, your gaze shifting from the vegetables at your feet to the girl in front of you. It had been a few days since you had argued with the Maximoffs, and you hadn't spoken to any of them since.

"I came to say goodbye." Wanda said simply, and you rolled your eyes, getting up from the ground and shaking some of the dirt on your fingers.

"When are you two leaving?"

"Now."

Ignoring the feeling that has formed in your stomach, you just grumble in agreement, turning your back on Wanda, because you don't want her to see you cry.

"And what's this now?" You retort as you sit on the edge of the roof, looking out over the city. "Did you come to tell me that you guys are going to remember me or some sentimental shit?"

Wanda laughs softly, and you hear her footsteps approaching, until she is sitting next to you.

"Well, we've been friends for eight years, I thought I should say goodbye." She says looking forward. You want to swallow the urge to cry, because you don't want them to go. But there is nothing you can do.

"Okay, Wanda. Goodbye then." You retort bitterly, looking down at your hands.

"I wanted to give you something before I go." Wanda adds softly, and you turn your head to her to ask what it is, but as soon as you do, Wanda breaks the distance, her lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss.

You sigh in surprise, and Wanda pulls away.

"S-sorry." She says breathlessly. "I shouldn't..."

But you kiss her again. Properly this time. She is grateful that you hold her around the waist, because then she doesn't fall off the roof when she completely melts from the touch of your tongues together.

You pull away to take a breath, leaving your foreheads together. The urge to tell her not to go anywhere is stuck on the tip of your tongue, and before you can let the words escape, someone is clearing their throat behind you.

"I can't believe you kissed my sister." Pietro complains in a mixed tone of teasing and annoyance. But there is no anger in his gaze. You and Wanda move away embarrassed. "We have to go."

Wanda nods in agreement, and looks at you one last time before standing up, walking over to Pietro.

The boy nods to you before leaving. And when the roof is empty, you let the tears stream down your face.

//-//

As soon as the twins left, you joined the protests again. It kept you distracted now that you were alone. And since you hated so much free time without your friends, you ignored the way that you now always ended up with bruised hands and sore throats after every march.

You got some of your fellow protesters to help you keep an eye on the building that Wanda and Pietro were staying in, and when they stopped coming out of there, you knew something was wrong.

Two weeks without hearing about the twins, you could no longer sleep from worry. You imagined that whatever those men were doing to them would take time. But you also didn't expect that your friends would disappear.

So here you were, sneaking around the abandoned floors to find some clue to where the hell they were. You knew you shouldn't be here. It was their choice, and they knew the consequences. But you kept walking.

Hearing a metal noise, you felt your heart race and quickly hid behind a wall. But no other sound came, so you thought it was safe to move.

Another noise, and a sharp pain in your neck a second later. And then you blacked out.

//-//-//-//

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[sassy-cass-16]

catholicism as an institution beats the lesson of "damned if you do, damned if you don't" into the heads of children from before they're old enough to comprehend it

I was a little kid going to a daycare run by Carmelite nuns, and we were taught how to pray using words none of us could understand. They had us repeat the prayers over and over again, and if we made mistakes because we were four and using words like temptation and wickedness and of course we were saying them wrong, we had to keep saying the line until we got it right. But if one of us didn't want to pray (because we were four and four-year-olds are easily distracted and don't want to spend ten minutes stumbling over the word trespasses while a nun gives them the stink-eye), we were essentially told that we were insulting God. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

I got a little older and went to that daycare until I was twelve, and for that entire time, I saw the same thing over and over again: kids who were punished for either eating too much, or not eating enough. If you only ate half your plate, you were told that you were ungrateful, because children in Africa were starving, and one day when you went to preach the word of the Lord to them, you'd understand. If you were still hungry after three or four servings, you were taught the definition of gluttony and told to leave food for the other kids. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

Catholic school religion class is its own beast, but something I was told by my religion teacher always stuck out to me as a prime example of this: the definition of a mortal sin, as defined by the church, is a willing, grave act that defies God. By this definition, apostasy is the ultimate mortal sin, because it involves essentially giving God the finger by depriving him of your worship. And the undercurrent throughout the whole course was that the way to achieve true happiness and real fulfillment was to act in line with God's will (as defined by priests because the Magisterium means the church is always right, except when it isn't). So when I asked how your average Catholic is meant to treat the average ex-Catholic, I got this response:

"Just treat them like an ordinary person. Be polite, be respectful. If they engage you on the subject of religion, you can obviously bring up your view, but an apostate is just a person and deserves to be treated with human dignity."

Basically, this man was teaching teenagers that apostates are ultimately unhappy and unfulfilled, because they aren't falling in line with God's will. But you shouldn't say that to them, because that wouldn't be polite.

As an apostate in that class, about a year and a half after I had come to terms with the fact that I can't support or believe in the Catholic Church anymore, I was told that if I said anything about being an ex-Catholic, at least my teacher and a few of my classmates would believe I'm unhappy and unfulfilled and that I committed the ultimate mortal sin. But if I didn't say anything, I still had the knowledge in my head that the people around me were being taught that I have done something under the same label as murder.

Finally admitting to myself that the institution that raised me (that the people who took care of me and taught me how to write, read, behave, grow, express myself, live) had actively been harming me was not fucking easy. I spent so long ignoring massive red flags because I was a kid who wanted to be loved, and because God does not love those who do not love him back, I thought pretending would at least give me that. But it was torture if I kept pretending, kept my mouth shut and fell in line, and it would be torture if I admitted it.

I was damned if I did, and damned if I didn't.

And damn, if it isn't surprising that I have an anxiety disorder after growing up in an institution which told me no matter what I do, it's always the wrong choice.

[glitterytidalwavedragon]

Not Normal Standards of Affection (Sebastian Relationship Headcannon Part 2)

Hi all! here is the second part of my little head cannon! I hope everyone is doing well and is excited for upcoming holiday. Food is wonderful. So! Back on track, here is the second Victorian Reader, this time a commoner. I hope you all enjoy!

It was at a party when you met him. You were new to the Midford household, a new servant to watch over the small Lady and young Lion. Elizabeth had taken a liking the most to your personality, so she made you follow along (well it was your job) and cooed at how lovely she had made you look. You were a little grateful for this when your eyes landed on him. How beautiful this man was should have been a crime. 

Sebastian knew right away how you felt, lust was something he was use to feeling when humans were around him. 

The butler also expected you to be just like the maid or as useless as the cook. Either unable to keep yourself in control or so flustered you ruined everything. 

Yet, you were competent when put to work, he should have known as he had experienced Lady Midfords strict requirements towards servants. 

When Elizabeth ordered you to help, Sebastian welcomed the change, sure, you were no Agni, but you at least could preform your duties. 

After days, weeks, and months of visiting, the demon was surprised when one day you showed no signs of lust. 

Then, out of the blue, for the first time in his existence, something odd happened. 

You rang on the wire asking when his next day off was, you had mentioned it would be fun to see a show, or go out for drinks, even gamble if that was his thing. 

When he asked, your response was simple, pure, and kind. “It’s what friends do.”

Angi had called him a friend, yet you were making more efforts to ensure a close friendship with the demon. How curious. 

Ciel nearly fell over when he asked for an evening. Sebastian explained his curiosity about you and Ciel raised an eyebrow. 

The Earl allowed it, but he would be following with the other servants... not that he would tell Sebastian that. 

Once both of you were ‘off’ Sebastian was amused to find that you, who worked for the Midfords were devilish. 

You reasoned that Sebastian, being head butler to the earl, had to be so tight on rules due to his position and therefore on his day off, should let loose.

It started with pranks being pulled on the yard. Followed by causing trouble at a local church. 

You somehow brought the priest into frightful tears as you explained all your ‘sins’ and nearly seduced a nun until you told her that easy women were not your flavor. 

Sebastian had found, what could be described as a bosom-buddy, for you both made trouble all around London before going to the bar. 

When drinking got involved, both of you provoked a fight between strangers and watched merrily as you both enjoyed the scene. 

Sebastian went back to the manor feeling rather relaxed and relieved. 

When Ciel asked about the night, having lost track of the pair, Sebastian gave the little Earl the most disturbingly happy jagged tooth smile he only saw the day he made the contract. The earl wasn’t sure he liked the friendship. 

This continued for months, and each time, the both of you got closer and committed more fiendish crimes which caused others to take the downfall. 

When Ciel saw the hassle the Yard was having, the Earl was there for shopping reasons with Lizzy, he wanted to get involved. 

So when that night, when Sebastian confessed to being part of the mischief, Ciel demanded an end to the friendship. 

Sebastian of course listened to his master. 

When you suddenly appeared at the servants door, and wore the standard uniform for the Phantomhives, Ciel was confused. 

Sebastian just smiled with you and explained in private that it was costumery for servants to have their partner live with them and work in the same household. 

When the Earl stated he hadn’t followed orders, Sebastian just smiled. 

“Ah, my Lord. You ask for me to end the friendship, I have. We are now romantically involved and considered a couple. Friendship doesn’t include the behaviors we have recently displayed.” 

Outsmarted, the Earl gave strict, specific orders on how both of you would behave. 

Agreeing, you and Sebastian continued your mischievous  behaviors, all whilst keeping to the Earl’s strict rules. 

I really enjoyed writing this one! I think it fits, kind of, to one of the possibilities in which Sebastian could experience a relationship. The man does enjoy and is curious about human behavior. So having one so freely want to do nothing but break rules and have fun would probably make the Demon excited to see just how many rules could be broken. 

I hoped you all enjoy!

[kimvvantae]

everlasting • jjk

➜ being able to love the same person forever is a blessing given from the heavens. to you, however, eternity has become a curse. 

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader

genre: angst • reincarnation au

warnings: a slight, non-explicit insinuation of sex. subtle mentions of violence. probably historical inaccuracy. also, suffering. lots of suffering, actually.

word count: 18k

rating: pg-13

anon requested: a jungguk fic where him and the reader never work out in any life time like they’ll be “maybe we’ll be together in the next life time” yk I don’t know if I’m making sense 🥺 but then in the last one they end up being together.

➜  this is part of the 1st anniversary event. check out masterlist in bio for more of my works!

× 1401 ×

"You look absolutely lovely!" your mother chirps happily, clapping her hands together. "The most beautiful bride I've ever seen!"

All of the maids agree, making comments on the dress you wear. Some of them are kneeled down around you, making adjustments on the dress and veil. You look at your reflection, holding the delicate fabric with care. You can't disagree with them; indeed, the dress is beautiful. 

"Put a smile on this face, darling." Your mother continues, coming closer to where you stand. She caresses your cheek affectionately. "It is your wedding day!" 

You look at your mother. She smiles widely. If someone that doesn't know her looked at this situation, they'd think she's a caring mother.

But you do know her.

You know the expertly crafted smile that adorns her lips.

You know that there is no happiness at all reflected on her eyes - only the coldness and superiority you're already used to.

You see that what she said was actually a warning. At least pretend to be happy. Don't you disrespect your fiance.

That's all she cares about: appearances. Reputation. Wealth and power. Even though this is the woman that brought you to life, you can't help but wonder if she has ever cared for you at least once.

You say nothing and look back at your reflection.

"May you all leave me alone?" You ask in a low and dead tone. It doesn't even sound like you.

The maids promptly move out of the room without muttering a word, bowing respectfully before leaving. Your mother, however, doesn't move.

"I said may you all leave me alone?" You repeat, your voice louder and harder. Now that you're alone with her, the façade fades and she finally shows her true self: dead eyes, an expression that somehow always conveys aggressiveness. She opens her mouth to say something that will probably hurt your feelings, but you don't let her even start the sentence. You had enough of her. "You already got what you wanted, mother. At least leave me by myself in my last moments of freedom."

The woman glares at you for a moment, then nods. You see the faint shadow of a smirk on her lips. She's enjoying this. She likes to see that you finally bent to her will after all these years - and she doesn't care that this is killing you inside. "Very well." she says, at least once keeping any snarky comment to herself. After giving one last look at you - and in this quick moment you notice that no, she actually does not think you're the most beautiful bride she has ever seen - and finally leaves the room.

You stand in front of the mirror, all alone.

If you could, you would have cried. But you don't have enough strength to cry anymore. The tears seem to have dried out; you feel empty and cold on the inside. The beautiful (and uncomfortable) attire you wear now does not match your blank expression. 

In a few minutes, you'll be attending your own wedding… but deep down, it feels like a funeral.

You feel powerless. You see how gullible you were. Why did you even think you could avoid your fate anyway? There has never been an option to you; there has never been how to escape. You were foolish. You dreamed too high. You should have figured that dreams never take anyone anywhere. 

You asked your mother to enjoy your last moments of freedom by yourself, but… you were never really free. The shackles of destiny have chained you ever since you were born. 

There is no escape.

"You look beautiful, Highness." 

You freeze. The sad, quiet voice floats to your ears, the voice that belongs to the person you love the most-

"Jungkook," you whisper.

You see his reflection in the mirror. He stands by the door, perfect posture as always, hands behind his back. His blank expression might be mistaken by apathy, but you know these dark eyes far too well. You've seen them from up close multiple times, you've stared at them for seemingly endless hours - eyes that used to look back at you with nothing but gentleness and affection, now hold a type of sadness and grief you have never seen before.

"Your father asked me to accompany you," he continues on his usual formal tone. He's visibly trying so hard not to break…

You turn around and face him. The tears that seemed to have dried out come back, welling up your eyes. "I'm sorry." It's all you can say in a weak, small voice. You feel sorry in a way that hurts your chest as if you've been stabbed right in the heart. The sadness in his eyes… this is enough to make you want to die. "I-I tried everything…"

"There's nothing to apologize for, Y/N." Jungkook says with a soft voice - the tone he'd use whenever you were finally alone and away from any suspicious ears, when you could love each other in the silence of the night, your secret being kept by the stars above. The smallest of smiles adorns his lips, but there's no happiness reflected in it. "We knew this would happen someday. We were never meant to be."

His words almost feels like physical pain. You step closer and put your hands over his chest, desperate. "But I love you!" You whisper, your voice breaking as tears start to fall. 

Jungkook lifts his hand and touches your cheek gently, wiping your tears with his thumb. You mean it with the bottom of your heart. You love Jungkook. You love him with every fiber of your being. You silently curse the Universe for making you walk this path, for making you be born a princess and making Jungkook be a knight. No one would never let you be together the way you want to. No one around you even believes in love.

"I love you too," he whispers back. "And I always will." 

A small smile once again appears on his lips. The smile he usually shows when he wants to comfort you. 

This time, though, nothing in the world will be able to comfort your bleeding heart.

"Maybe… maybe we'll meet in our next life. A life when we'll be in different circumstances." Even though Jungkook himself says these words, you see that it's just a sad hope - because right now, there's no way out. All that exists is pain and a dark future ahead of you, married with a prince you have never seen, a man you don't love and never will.

Still, you and Jungkook hold onto this hope - this last shared dream - tightly.

"Maybe we'll be together in our next life." He says as a single tear trickles down his cheek.

× 1642 ×

Life in the convent is good.

Ever since you decided to willingly dedicate your life to God, you see nothing but light and happiness. All of the nuns became your family. Every day, you pray for the Lord, plead that He will forgive your sins, read the Holy Scriptures. You feed the animals, take care of the plantation. You help your sisters on the kitchen; later on, you'd usually distribute food for the poor and unfortunate. 

The routine is repetitive, but familiar and enjoyable. You love your sisters. You love to help people. You love to serve the Lord. This is the life He chose for you.

You are blessed.

But…

Recently, there is a feeling that has been distracting you from your life of serving.

Not a feeling… a person.

You have prayed for endless nights, pleading for God to forgive you, pleading for Virgin Mary's help and guidance. You should eradicate this feeling. You must have no distractions on your life of serving and humility; you must not betray the trust that the Lord has on you…

But every time you hear his suave voice, every time you see him entering the convent, your heart still beats fast. 

Usually, men are not allowed inside the convent. But he is not just any man. The young priest started to come two years ago to lead the mass, and ever since, you started developing this wrong feeling. You started to look at him far too much. You saw his kindness, you admired his wisdom. Soon, you realized that you were hoping for his arrivals. You and him barely even talked, but when you did, it always felt as if you were swept off your feet.

This is wrong.

You swore to live a life of abnegation. You shouldn't crave for anyone's company except God's. But every night, before you closed your eyes, his face came to your mind. You felt happy at any opportunity to talk to him; sometimes, you'd watch him from afar as he talked to the mother superior, your heart fluttering every time he'd smile.

This is unforgivable.

But you can't help it.

That's why one day in the early morning, so early that almost all of the sisters are still asleep, you walk alone to the chapel.

You know he is here; that's why your heart starts beating faster. Quietly, you enter the small booth and kneel down, put your hands together and lower your head respectfully.

"Bless me, priest, for I have sinned." you start timidly.

You hear him saying a prayer, what makes a shiver run down your spine. You can't see him, and he can't see you - and you're grateful for it. You wouldn't be able to look at him for too long.

After he finishes, it's your time to confess. It's hard to do so. You intertwine your own fingers and gulp.

"I… I am behaving inappropriately, priest." Your voice is fragile. Hesitant.

"What makes you think this, sister?" He asks.

You gulp yet again. "I… I developed feelings for someone. I know it's wrong. I have been asking for God's help, I have been trying to forget it… but this feeling won't go away."

The priest stays silent for a moment. Does he know you're talking about him? No, that's impossible…

"You've taken the first step, sister." He says in a reassuring way. "You have been doing your best to avoid these feelings. God for sure will listen to you and help you. He knows you're trying."

You nod, even though you know he can't see it. You should stop it right here. You should thank him and leave.

But you can't.

That's why you keep talking.

"But, priest… deep down, I don't think that my feelings are impure. I… I don't have any carnal feelings for him. I admire him and I crave for his company. I just wish to talk to him and… and to hear him. I just want to be with him."

The priest falls in deep silence.

He's the only man you ever keep in touch with. He knows that you're talking about him.

When you hear him calling your name softly, your eyes widen.

"I understand how you feel." He whispers, and suddenly, it feels as if he is confessing, not you. Your heart beats so fast that you're scared it may stop; your palms start sweating. What does he mean…? "I really do. But… both of us chose this life. We can't go back on our word."

You almost gasp. The priest not only understands - he feels the same. You can't even control your own emotions right now; you feel euphoria, confusion, excitement, and-

And sadness.

Because you know that you shouldn't be feeling what you feel. This is forbidden for you - and the priest is right. You chose it. You decided to live this life.

You can't go back on your word.

"I understand." You say quietly, unable to hide the sadness and guilt in your voice.

He doesn't say anything for a long moment. You can't help but feel the tears trickling down your cheeks. This hurts. It hurts more than you ever thought it would.

"Maybe…" the priest whispers, so quiet that you can barely hear. "Maybe if we had another life… this would be possible."

You nod sadly.

Maybe in another life… 

In a life that you wouldn't be you and him wouldn't be him.

× 1803 ×

"He's looking at you," your younger sister says, giggling.

Your eyes widen and you immediately pass your hand through your hair discreetly, trying to look less like a scarecrow. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, he is. He has been staring for quite a long time." She confirms, still smirking in a knowing way.

You gulp and try to focus on your current task again - which is wash the clothes, kneeled next to the flowing river. Your own clothes are barely dirty rags, your hair is probably a mess. You look nothing like a respectable lady.

What is he doing here anyway?

You shake your head. "I don't care," you lie to yourself, scrubbing the white sheet against a rock with more strength than you should. "He is an odd man. An odd man that does odd things."

"You like him."

"I don't!" You gasp when you realize that, perhaps, you said this way too loud. "I don't." You repeat with a controlled voice this time. "He is our boss. We shouldn't even think anything like this about him."

"Why not? He's handsome!" She exclaims. "He's the most handsome man in the entire town! Besides, he stares at you way too much."

"Stop it." You warn your annoying younger sister. "You know very well that people like him and people like us don't get involved."

People like Jeon Jungkook are rich. They can afford the most expensive types of fabric, the most gracious and strong horses, the most exotic types of tea. The Jeon family owns the small town you live in. His father is part of the government - which means he is the law itself. Everybody respects the Jeons… well, everybody fear the Jeons. 

Meanwhile, people like you work for people like him. You and your family live in a small house inside the Jeon's enormous farm; you, your siblings and your mother work as maids and cooks, while your father and your brothers take care of the animals. All of your clothes are reused and you have never tasted anything other than cheap tea. You don't ride any pure race horse because Master Jeon doesn't like the idea of his unworthy servants touching any of his awarded animals.

Yes, people like you and him definitely don't get involved.

That's why you are mad at yourself. You shouldn't feel nervous whenever Jungkook is around. Sure, he is handsome… maybe way too handsome for his own good. But he is nothing but a petty rich boy. He's exactly the type of man you should avoid.

"You're getting quite old, aren't you, sister?" The annoying girl continues, side eyeing you maliciously. "You should be searching for a husband already. Otherwise, soon no man will want you."

You don't say anything for a few seconds, still scrubbing that sheet as if the poor piece of fabric had cursed you. Your sister is somehow right. Most of your friends are already married - some of them are pregnant. You know you should hurry and start a family. It's not as if you want to be single forever.

But… you also don't want to marry any man. As foolish as it sounds, you're still waiting for someone to love.

Your mother says that you dream too much. You should stop reading those books and come back to reality, she said. You will not be young and beautiful forever. You should give Seokjin a chance. He is a good man, has a decent job and already showed interest in you.

Most of your friends told you the same.

But you heart does not flutter when you see Seokjin.

At least not the way it does when…

Stop.

You shake your head vehemently. "You should stop talking and start working," you say, throwing another wet sheet on the girl aggressively. She gasps and complains a "hey!"

You take the soap bar and start washing another sheet, still shaking your head as if to free yourself from these thoughts. 

But you can't help but lift your gaze for a quick moment.

Jungkook is standing there, caressing his horse's head. His eyes are not on the animal, but on you instead. He's way too far, so you can't see the details of his face, but he clearly has a small smile on his lips.

A smirk.

He didn't possibly hear your conversation with your sister, right? That's impossible. He's too far.

The young man shakes his head slightly and finally starts to guide the horse away by the reins, heading to the stables.

It takes a long time for your heart to beat at a normal pace again.

You wonder how is it possible that such a small family can dirty so many clothes.

The Jeon family isn't that big, but every week you're gifted with a ton of clothes to wash. And they're not just any clothes: Mrs. Jeon already made very clear that all of their clothes are made of the finest and richest types of fabric, and because of this, you had to be extremely careful when washing them. She also likes to point out how a single dress of hers or of her daughter is far more expensive than you'll ever be able to pay. This is enough of a warning for you to not damage them (even though sometimes you really want to). 

Washing the clothes isn't an easy task: you have to carry all of them in a basket to the river, and the process of scrubbing them against the rock is tiring and may take several hours. Many times, you're forced to sit under the scorching sun. After this, you have to carry them back, put them to dry on the sun, and then iron them to perfection - what, again, isn't an easy task; the iron is heavy and it is quite dangerous to use. The scar on your hand is a painful reminder of this. You have to repeat this process every week, just because your dear bosses can't wear the same dress twice - which doesn't even make sense. You have exactly three dresses, some skirts and some shirts. Even though your job gets you dirty all the time, you do your best to stay clean as much as possible.

If those bitches had to wash their clothes themselves, I'm sure they wouldn't wear so many.

Today, though, you're having more work than usual. None of your sisters or your mom could help you (usually, this is too tough to be done by one person); the Jeons will be holding a birthday party for their son, which means they were too busy cleaning the gigantic house to help you. You got up earlier than usual and came to the river, knowing that the sooner you'd start, the sooner you'd finish.

You completely lost sight of time, too focused on washing all the items from the basket. You have to stop from time to time to let your arms rest. You're sure that, soon, your biceps will be more muscular than your older brother's. You exhale heavily and wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand; at least, this is the last skirt.

That's when you hear a soft cough somewhere near.

You turn your head and gasp.

He is standing there. Way closer than the usual.

You immediately avoid his gaze.

"Mr. Jeon," you say. "You scared me."

"I apologize." Jungkook says, smiling. It's annoying how he always has this smile on his lips. It's annoying how he always looks handsome, it doesn't matter what he's wearing.

It's annoying how your heart starts beating faster and you feel a heat creeping on your neck.

"Did you need something, sir?" You ask, grabbing the skirt you've been scrubbing for the past few minutes. You try your hardest to pretend you're not affected by his presence. "Unfortunately, I can't help you now, but I'm sure that my mother and my sisters can."

"No, I don't need anything," he says, shaking his hands dismissively. "I'm just watching you." He tilts his head. "It seems like a tiring work."

You try your hardest not to roll your eyes. You bet, idiot. "It sure is a tiring work, sir."

"Oh, there's no need to call me 'sir'. You can call me Jungkook." His voice sounds annoyingly lighthearted.

"I can't. It would be inappropriate, sir." You reply, focusing your gaze on your hands as you pass more soap on the skirt, trying not to think about how he's annoyingly close. 

"Why?" He asks as if he doesn't already know why.

"You're my boss, sir. That's why I call you sir, sir." 

This time, you weren't able to hide the aggressiveness in your voice.

Jungkook frowns. At least he realized how his presence is unwanted… and he looks confused. As if he had never met a woman that didn't fawn over him.

Well… he probably didn't. 

You start to scrub the skirt again, completely ignoring his existence. With the corner of your eye, you can see Jungkook shifting uncomfortably. He's definitely not used to be ignored.

You have to learn one thing or two, rich boy.

After rinsing and wringing the skirt tightly, you sigh in relief. At least this is done. You put it back on the basket and get up, ready to walk back to where the clotheslines are.

"Oh, wait," you hear Jungkook exclaiming. Your heart almost stops beating when he rushes to your side. "This looks heavy. Let me help you."

"No!" You blink, realizing that perhaps you were a little too rude. "I mean- this is not necessary, sir. I can carry it by myself."

"I can't see a lady carrying so much weight and do nothing. Please, let me help."

You hate that smile. God, you hate it.

When he extends his arms, ready to grab the basket from your hands, you step away and look at him with worry and seriousness on your features.

"Sir, please. If your mother sees you helping me, she will not like it."

Jungkook stares at you with confusion.

Are you stupid?, you feel the urge to ask. Doesn't he know his own mother?

"She won't do anything, Y/N." Your eyes widen. You didn't know that Jungkook knew your name. "I can deal with her. Now, please, let me carry this. I just want to be polite."

You stare at him for a few seconds. Well, at least it seems that he really wants to help. You sigh, giving in, and nod. "Very well," you say.

He smiles again. He really has a mesmerizing smile.

When Jungkook takes the basket, he frowns and looks surprised. "This is heavier than I expected."

You asked for it!

You start walking side by side in an uncomfortable silence. You're sure that Jungkook thought you'd be happy or pleased, and he looks confused that you're clearly not. You don't want to be close to him. You don't want to see him smiling and trying to be polite. You don't want to feel your stomach twirling in excitement just because he's close or because he knows your name.

"Do you carry all this by yourself every time?" Jungkook asks at some point.

"I usually have my sisters' help. Sometimes we carry three or four baskets."

Jungkook lifts his eyebrows. Surprised? Can you tell your mother and sister to stop being dirty pigs that give us so much work, then?

Silence reigns above you again. It's painful. This farm is enormous, so it'll take some minutes of walking to arrive there. You don't think you'll be able to bear this.

"Actually," Jungkook starts all of sudden, sounding quiet and… hesitant. "I want to invite you to my birthday party tomorrow. I'd be really glad if you came."

He looks at you and smiles timidly.

This time, you can't hold back a huff.

Jungkook looks confused again.

"Are you serious?" You also forget to be polite.

"Of course I'm serious."

You smirk, but there's no hint of happiness on your smile. Your eyes look so mad that Jungkook is taken aback.

"Thank you for the invitation, sir," you say as you take the basket from his hands forcefully. "but servants are not allowed to attend parties."

You walk away at a fast pace. Jungkook at least has the decency to not follow you.

What is he thinking?!

His mother would kill you if she saw you there. You have no dress for such occasion; you'd be a joke. Imagine, you - a servant in a party where only the high society of this town would attend!

It's so ridiculous that you get mad.

You know what Jungkook wanted with this. You may be a dreamer, but you're not stupid. Men like him are used to seduce poor girls just for fun; they fool them, make them think that they love them, make them think that they're princes and that they came to give those girls a better life. But it all ends when they have enough of them or when they find a rich girl to marry. It's not as if he had any type of true interest in you. 

You're angry and sad.

People like you and people like Jungkook are not meant to be.

Two weeks have passed by when you meet him again.

As usual, you're kneeled down by the river, scrubbing a sheet against the surface of the rock. Since today there are less clothes to wash than the usual, you decided to come by yourself. As it always seems to happen, you got too immersed in your task to pay attention to your surroundings. This time, though, you have a reason to be so inattentive.

Your friends told you that Seokjin is planning to propose to you.

Seokjin is a good man. It seems that he genuinely cares about you. He's also very good-looking and polite. Any other woman would be happy to marry him.

But you don't want to marry someone just because of their looks.

At the same time, if you don't get married soon, you'll get a bad reputation.

What to do? You have no idea. Perhaps you should forget your own dreams and start listening to your mother…

"Good afternoon."

You gasp, startled, and the soap bar almost slips from your hands.

It's Jungkook again.

"Why must you always be so sneaky, sir?" You say, putting your hand over your chest.

Jungkook doesn't say anything - he just looks at you and the clothes instead, eyebrows furrowed. Were you really so inattentive or is Jungkook this silent?

He then pushes the sleeves of his shirt and kneels down by your side.

You widen your eyes as you see him taking one sheet from the basket.

"W-What are you doing?" You're frozen in place.

"I'm helping." He takes the soap bar from your hands. When his fingers touches yours, you shiver.

"Sir- there's no need-"

"I want to."

"What if someone sees you?!" 

Jungkook looks around. "There's nobody here. I doubt that someone will come."

You stare at him, jaw dropped, as Jungkook passes soap on the sheet. You notice he's trying to imitate your movements - except he's being much more aggressive.

You come back to your senses. "No. Stop!"

You put your hand over his, making him stop.

Your eyes meet.

You feel goosebumps.

"I-If you keep scrubbing like this, you'll end up ripping it off," you stutter, taking your hand off of his. "Don't put so much strength. Be more gentle."

Jungkook nods. You watch, too shocked to say anything, as he does what you said.

Silence falls over you two - but it's not an uncomfortable silence this time. You still can't tell exactly what's happening. For a while, you two just keep scrubbing clothes, the sound of the flowing river reigning.

Until you can't hold back a giggle.

"What?" He immediately asks. You shake your head, avoiding his gaze.

"I never thought I'd see a man washing clothes, sir." You admit. "It's quite interesting."

Jungkook shrugs. "I just didn't want to see you doing all this by yourself." He has to stop for a moment and take a deep breath - way sooner than you usually do. "This is more tiring than I thought it would be."

You giggle again. "Now, imagine doing this more than once per week, sir."

He frowns his eyebrows. After more scrubbing, he lifts the sheet with both hands and looks at you. Your stomach jumps in a funny way. His eyes are big and round in an innocent expression. "Is it clean now?"

"Not even close." 

Jungkook exhales and tilts his head in an adorable way. Why everything he does makes your heart flutter like this? 

"Let's work more, then." He says, taking the soap bar again.

You don't know why he is even trying.

But you can't say you're not enjoying it.

"What do you mean, you don't need help?" Your sister asks, completely confused.

You avoid her gaze and take the basket on your hands absently. "I can do this by myself today. Besides, you were a little sick, weren't you? You should rest."

"And since when do you care?"

"I always cared." You glare at her, offended. "I'm leaving now before you make me change my mind." 

Before she can say anything else, you walk out of the house carrying the heavy basket.

Of course I'm doing this because I care, you think, frowning. Of course. She had a fever. She has to rest today.

Of course I'm not doing this because I hope that Jungkook will show up again.

Of course not.

A strange heat reaches your neck.

You still don't know why the Jeon insisted on helping you. Any man would feel ashamed to do this type of work. Yet, Jungkook stayed with you until both of you finished washing all the items in the basket. 

He did not complain. He did not make any type of bad comment about you.

In fact, he didn't even try to court you. He just… talked to you.

This, itself, is already surprising.

You're used to being treated like nothing by people on his level. Rich people think that poor people aren't even people in the first place. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time a rich man tried to get under your skirt. Jungkook, however, was respectful all the time. He didn't treat you as if you were a brainless peasant. You talked about many things. Being around him didn’t feel overwhelming… it was comfortable.

You know you shouldn’t be craving for his company, but you do. After that day, every week you see yourself finding an excuse to go to the river alone, hoping that he will come - and he actually comes to help you. Jungkook learned how to wash clothes properly really fast. Every time he comes, you finish all the work pretty quickly, what disappoints you deep down, because you want more opportunities to spend time with him.

If back then you just felt attracted by Jungkook’s appearance… well, now you’re starting to feel something more.

Even though there’s a voice in your mind yelling that this won’t end up well.

You arrive at the usual spot by the river and place the basket on the floor, getting ready to  work. Unconsciously, you keep looking at your surroundings, hoping that his figure will peek in the horizon at any time. You already feel your heart beating rapidly with nervousness. He might not want to come today. He might have things to do. Why would he even want to come anyway? This is ridiculous-

“Searching for me, Y/N?” You scream, completely startled, when a voice says right by your side.

Jungkook laughs joyfully, satisfied with your reaction. You glare at him. “What’s your problem, sir?”

“It’s not my fault if you get scared so easily.” He shrugs, faking an innocent expression. He sits by your side and crosses his legs. Something you noticed recently is that Jungkook doesn’t exactly act like a gentleman - he walks around barefoot, laughs loudly, sits with crossed legs like he’s doing right now, and the stranger of all: helps a woman washing clothes. He definitely doesn’t act like all the other man you know. You always knew he was an odd man, but day after day it gets more surprising. “Did you miss me?”

“Certainly not.” you roll your eyes. “I was hoping that you wouldn’t come to bother me.”

What a liar.

“Sure.” Jungkook side eyes you suspiciously. “I can leave if you want… but then, I won’t give you the present I brought with me.”

“What?” you look at him, feeling your heart race. Did he bring you a present…?

“As I said, I’m won’t give you the present… unless you ask me to stay.” He says in a childish manner, a teasing glint in his eyes. He starts to get up as if to leave.

“Wait.” You call. Your pride screams in pain. Jungkook stops midway and waits for you to say something. You roll your eyes again (your eyes tend to roll a lot when he’s around). “Stay, please.”

He grins widely and sits down again, reaching for something in a bag behind him. “Since you told me you were tired of reading the same books, I thought you’d like this.”

Jungkook hands you a book happily.

Your breath almost gets caught on your throat.

“Sir, I… I can’t accept this,” you say, although you want to take the book.

“Why not?” He looks confused.

“B-Because… well… where did you take this book from?”

“From the library in my house.”

“What if they notice that one book is missing? What if someone caughts me with it?” You say, already feeling the fear underneath your skin.

“Did you see the size of that library? Do you know how many books are there?” he lifts his eyebrows. Yes, you know the Jeon’s gigantic library. You’ve dreamed of having a library like this many times. There are hundreds of books in it. “They will never notice that one book is missing. Besides, no one reads anything in that house. My mother just keeps the library for fashion.” Jungkook then takes your hand with his own - what makes a warmth spread through your body - and puts the book over it, the most beautiful smile on his lips. “There’s nothing to worry about, Y/N. Please, accept it.”

You stare at the book.  A strange sensation fills up your heart.

Jungkook remembered your conversation and paid attention to what you said. You are, indeed, tired of reading the same three books you own over and over again - books are expensive, your family can’t waste any money with anything other than food. Besides… most people usually don’t approve your liking for books. Your mother herself has already said that you shouldn’t even have learned how to read; she says that a woman must only know how to cook, how to clean and how to respect her husband. 

It’s the first time someone takes your interests seriously. This is the most thoughtful present you have ever received.

You can’t hold back a smile.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” you confess in a shy whisper. “Thank you so much, Jungkook.”

He gasps.

“You said my name.” He smiles widely. “It’s the first time you say my name.”

You feel your cheeks heating up. “D-Don’t get used to it.”

Jungkook laughs again, and this time, you laugh as well.

This strange sensation in your heart seems to be overflowing.

This won’t end up well.

“Do you know how to ride a horse?”

You frown, eyes focused on the shirt between your hands. “Not really, sir.”

“Would you like to learn?”

You stop and stare at him.

There’s that glint in Jungkook’s eyes - the glint that says he’s planning something.

“I confess I would like to, but I don’t have time. Nor permission.” You say, looking at the shirt again.

“Why? Your brothers ride the horses.” Again, it seems that Jungkook doesn’t know his own family.

“My brothers and my father are farmers. They need to ride the horses to take care of the herd.”

“Alright. But you want to learn, don’t you?”

You stop again and look at him suspiciously.

“What do you mean, sir?”

He smiles in a playful way, almost like a child. “I just thought that you would want to take a break from all the work.”

“Sir, I can’t take breaks.” You exclaim. Jungkook doesn’t understand that you can’t do whatever you want. “I have to work. What if someone caughts me?”

“You’ll be with me.”

“And? I’m sure nobody would do anything to you, but I’d certainly get punished.” After so long, you feel intimate enough to be a little rude to him. “You’ve already been very kind to me, giving me all those books. That’s enough, sir. I’m thankful.”

“But reading books isn’t nearly as fun as riding a horse.” His stubbornness can be annoying at times. “Come on, Y/N. Just once!”

“No. My family will notice that I’m taking too long to finish.”

“We almost finished way sooner than usual. Nobody will notice.”

“Sir-”

“Please?”

You freeze when he takes both of your hands in his.

Your heartbeat increases, your eyes widen. Jungkook doesn’t touch you so often - he is very polite - but when he does, your body reacts immediately. Being close to him can be a torture sometimes. He is good, intelligent, funny… and extremely handsome. You look forward to meeting him every week. At times, you’re way slower than usual, just to spend more time with him. 

Your feelings for him have grown quickly like fire spreading in the woods.

This won’t end up well, the voice insists to whisper on your ears angrily.

Jungkook has his big pleading eyes staring at you. 

This won’t end up well. This won’t end up well. This won’t end up well. This won’t end up-

“Alright,” you sigh, giving in. Jungkook giggles excitedly. “But just today! And not for too long.”

Jungkook helps you to get up and guides you to his horse: a beautiful all-brown animal, tall and strong. This horse is probably healthier than me, you think. Master Jeon values his awarded horses a lot… more than his own family.

"Come. He's a very calm animal. He won't hurt you." Jungkook encourages, offering his hand for you to take. You look around, worried that someone might be watching. You're glad that this farm is so incredibly big and that your usual spot by the river is so far from the plantations, the main house and the stables where everyone usually stays.

At the same time, sheer excitement bubbles inside of you.

You take Jungkook's hand.

He helps you to sit on the horse's back. "Stay calm," Jungkook advises. "He can feel if you're nervous or not."

"I'm not nervous," you state, holding the reins the way you've always seen your brothers doing. 

He keeps giving you instructions before guiding the horse slowly for a while. The animal is very obedient; it follows Jungkook's commands without complaining. 

"Do you think you can guide it by yourself now?" He asks. You nod confidently.

"Yes."

Jungkook steps away.

He can't hide his utter shock when he sees you riding the animal as if you were born doing so.

The horse obeys you easily as you guide him around. Soon, you feel brave enough to ride faster. The speed, the wind on your face and hair, the excitement of doing something you shouldn't - all of this makes you laugh at the top of your lungs.

Perhaps Jungkook was right when he said that riding horses is funnier than reading books…

"I have to admit, I'm impressed," he says when you stop by his side again. "You didn't even need help."

"Well, I've been watching my father doing this my whole life." You shrug. 

"But why did you stop?"

"Because this is enough for today." You say even though it disappoints you. "I don't want to put myself in danger. Can you help me…?"

Jungkook lifts his arms, ready to pick you up. You put your hand on his shoulders.

You lose balance and almost fall. Jungkook catches your body in time.

You freeze.

His hands are firmly placed on each side of your waist; your hands are on his chest. You're way too close.

Your faces, millimeters apart.

Dangerously close.

He's so close that you can feel his breath. So close that you can see every little detail on his face. So close that you feel your whole body heat up. So close that you can feel his heart beat rapidly under your palm.

So close that, if you simply leaned your head forward, your lips would touch.

And you really, really want to.

But you step back. 

"Hm… thank you." You avoid his gaze, embarrassed. You've never been this close to a man before… and Jungkook's not just any man. He's the man that makes your heart beat fast and the man that understands and respects you and the man that doesn't underestimate you. He's the man who you can talk to, who you can laugh with, who always manages to brighten your day.

He is the right man.

But, at the same time, he is the wrong man.

That's why you step back. That's why you walk away with your head lowered.

Because it doesn't matter how much you want it - you and him will never end up well.

This week, Jungkook brought two horses.

You got surprised and excited, but pretended to be angry. I said that I'd do it once, sir!

But here you are - riding by his side.

Jungkook let you ride the same brown horse again, since the animal might be more familiarized with you. You completely lost sight of time, too entertained in the feeling of freedom that riding a horse can provide.

You're also lost in Jungkook's beauty.

He looks astonishing: his strong arms, his veiny hands holding the reins with ease. The way his soft hair bounces and waves with the wind. His confident posture. 

You had to stop looking - otherwise you'd fall from the horse.

You're so entertained that you don't care when the sky becomes dark with heavy storm clouds. 

"Sir, it's raining!" You scream so he can hear. Not that you needed to say anything: thunder echoes around you, and the first heavy drops starts falling from the sky. You're worried. Everybody knows that being in an open field under a storm is never a good idea.

"It's too late to try to go back to the house," Jungkook says. "We need coverage!"

Without saying anything else, you follow him down the hill at a fast pace, the heavy rain whipping your faces and bodies. You realize where Jungkook is heading to: the warehouse. You manage to put yourselves and the horses inside of the empty building.

Your heart beats fast with adrenaline. Jungkook laughs, looking at his damp clothes. You're not better than him. Usually, you'd be angry with this situation… but now, all you can do is laugh as well.

"We should pay more attention next time," you say. Your clothes and hair are dripping.

"But it was fun, wasn't it?" Jungkook asks. You shrug and smile. The noise of the wind and the water hitting against the warehouse's ceiling violently is unsettling and loud.

"I love to see you smile."

You freeze.

What…?

Jungkook is looking at you with a sweet smile on his lips. His eyes, however, are clouded with something you've never seen before. It's enough to make your stomach twirl and a shiver run underneath your skin.

He steps closer.

This won't end up well.

This time, though, you don't back away.

You stand firm, gaze locked with his, as Jungkook puts a strand of wet hair behind your ear.

All you can hear is the beating of your heart. All you can see is his face.

This won't end up well.

Jungkook analyzes your features carefully, almost as if he's searching for something.

"I know this might sound strange," he says, his voice almost disappearing between the loud noises of the storm. "But sometimes, when I look at you, I… I feel that I already know you."

"But you know me." You whisper back.

"No. I mean… I mean that it feels like I've known you for a long time. More time than I can remember…"

It confuses you.

But, at the same time, it makes sense.

Being with Jungkook feels… familiar. Almost like a distant childhood memory. Something you can't picture or explain. You just know that it's there; it exists.

Your feelings for him.

This familiarity is still there when Jungkook closes the distance and kisses you; when your lips move slowly, in synchronicity, with raw passion. It feels new but familiar when his hands touch your body and when you feel his warm skin under his clothes. Even though it's the first time, the weight of his body over yours seems familiar. The way your members entangle, your fingers gripping his hair, his lips on your neck, the heat, the sweat, the pleasure.

It feels familiar.

It feels like home. 

And it feels bittersweet. 

Because, deep down… the voice that says that this won't end up well is still echoing.

Something tells you that you should believe it.

"Sister, are you alright?" 

You hold your stomach with one hand and wipe your mouth with the back of the other hand. The horrible taste of vomit washes your mouth.

"Y-Yes. It was probably something I ate-"

More vomit erupts through your lips. Your sister puts her hand on your back and pats it gently. 

"But if it was something you ate, then all of us should be feeling sick as well." She says. "You must be sick. We should call the doctor. I'll tell mom-"

You hold her hand tightly.

"Don't tell mom." You say firmly. "I'm alright."

Your sister frowns, confused. "But, Y/N, you've been feeling unwell for some days. What if it's something serious? What if…"

She blinks rapidly.

"What if…?"

You see the moment her astute eyes gleam with realization.

"Sister… are you…?"

"Am I what?" You ask in a defensive manner - trying to hide your fear.

Her jaw is dropped, eyes widened.

"How could you?!" She half whispers, half screams. You watch as a mix of feelings surface on her eyes; anger, betrayal, confusion, worry. "You're not married yet! What will people say about you when they notice-?!"

"Notice what?!" You don't want to hear the words. If she says it, it'll become real. It can't be real.

"I saw you with him. I saw you with Jungkook."

Freezing fear creeps on you.

"I followed you some days ago and saw you together. Do you think I wouldn't notice that something was wrong? You've been insisting to wash the clothes by yourself for months. Everyone knows you hate to do this!"

You don't know what to say. 

You feel stupid. Desperate. Scared.

You don't even notice when the tears start streaming down your cheeks.

"I don't know what to do." You whisper weakly.

Your sister shakes her head. "Did he propose to you, at least? You must marry him now. It's the only way to regain your honor."

You shake your head. "I… I'll talk to him. I must talk to him today."

The girl swipes her hand over her face as she starts to feel desperate for you. "Why did you let him do this to you, Y/N…?"

"You don't understand." You're quick to say. "We love each other. We… we'll figure out what to do. We'll find a way out."

You know you're just saying this to calm yourself down. You have no idea if you'll figure out what to do. You don't even know what Jungkook's reaction will be when he finds out…

That's the only thing in your mind as you wait for him, leaning under a tree. Your fingers are shaking, your breathing is short and rapid. What if Jungkook abandons me? What will I do? My parents will never forgive me. No one will help me at the town. They'll be ashamed of me and they'll hate me.

You should have figured that this would happen. After all these nights when you sneaked out of your house to meet him…  The tears start falling again, followed by quiet sobs. You destroyed your life. A dishonored woman. A prostitute…

"Y/N, what's wrong?!"

You see Jungkook running to you, worry covering his features the moment he realizes you're crying. He holds your face with both hands. "What happened? Did someone hurt you? Something happened with your family?"

The uncontrollable sobs won't let you speak. Instead, you just let yourself cry as Jungkook hugs you tightly, even though he doesn't understand what's happening.

It takes a long time for you to calm down.

"J-Jungkook…" you step away from him. Your eyes are glued to the floor. You're not brave enough to look at him and see his reaction.

"Yes, darling? What happened?" He asks, voice full of worry and care.

You gulp.

He has to know.

"I-I'm pregnant." 

Silence.

The silence lasts for so long that you think he didn't hear.

You finally have the courage to look up at him…

And you see Jungkook's eyes welled up with tears, the most beautiful smile adorning his lips.

"Pregnant?" He whispers weakly as the first tear trickles down his cheek. "You're pregnant?"

"...yes."

"Am I going to be a father?" 

"Yes."

Jungkook laughs and engulfs you in a hug.

From all the reactions you thought of, this is the one you were least expecting - but that's the one you were secretly hoping for the most. Jungkook hugs you tightly, kisses the top of your head, your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, whispering "I love you"s in between. You're so astonished that you have no reaction at all.

"You made me the happiest man in the world today, Y/N," he grins widely and sniffs. "I'll be a father! You're carrying our child!"

"Are you really happy?" You ask timidly, almost suspicious.

"Why wouldn't I be?! I love you." He holds your face and kisses your lips sweetly. "I love you. God, I love you."

You feel overwhelmed by his words. A smile finally appears on your lips.

"What will we do, Jungkook?" Your voice still sounds weak. "We should get married…"

This is the moment his smile faces away.

His features change in an instant - from utter joy, to deep concern. He frowns and blinks, licks his lips.

"We need to do something." He agrees.

"You must talk to my parents-"

"We need to run away from here."

You gasp.

"Run away? Why?" You ask, confused. "If we get married as soon as possible, people won't notice-"

"No. We need to leave the town. We need to disappear." The hurry and worry in his voice makes you uneasy.

"Jungkook, I have a family. I can't leave them behind."

"Darling, you don't understand," he cups your cheeks again. "My father, he's- he's dangerous. He would never accept our marriage. I don't know what he might do to you if he finds out…"

You've heard rumors before. People feared Master Jeon at the town, it was common knowledge. You've heard people saying how he could be ruthless when he wanted. But you never thought he would do anything worse than some threatening.

However, Jungkook is his son. He knows Master Jeon better than you do. If his son looks so frightened of what his own father might do…

Fear makes your body temperature decrease.

"I will protect your family." Jungkook continues. "I'll make sure that nothing bad happens to them and I'll find a way to take them out of here. But, first, we need to leave. As soon as possible."

Jungkook places his hand over your stomach in a reassuring way.

"I will never let anyone hurt you. I will protect you and our child."

The confidence in which he says this makes your heart feel warm. 

You trust him.

The small inn is nearly empty, but it doesn't make you any less nervous. Your heart is tight with insecurity and worry. You did everything Jungkook said: you left the house in the middle of the night, you didn't tell anything to your family (what was so painful that made you cry all the way out of the farm), you just brought a small case with a few clothes (not that you own many anyway). He asked you to wait here while he prepares everything. You plan to disappear tonight.

You put your hand on your belly and caress it; it's still hard to believe that there's someone growing inside of you, that in a few months you'll have a baby in your arms. The idea is terrifying… and reassuring. This child is the proof of your love. You love each other - and this love is so great that you couldn't keep it to yourselves only; this child is the result. It doesn't matter that you're not married yet or that life will definitely be more difficult from now on. You already love this child.

A small smile adorns your lips as the image of a baby boy with Jungkook's big eyes appears in your mind.

Everything will be alright. We have each other.

But you can't fight the insecurity and the growing anxiety.

You desperately want this to work out. You want to spend the rest of your life with Jungkook… but that pessimistic voice still echoes in your head, even though you've been trying to shut it. Almost as if… almost as if you've already faced a great disappointment in the past.

This feeling doesn't make sense. You would have remembered such suffering.

As time goes by, you start to get even more impatient and nervous. Your heart feels tight in a way you never felt before. What if something went wrong? Why is Jungkook taking so long?

That's when you hear the door cracking open behind you.

You immediately get up and smile, relief lifting the invisible weight from your shoulders. "Jungkook, I thought-"

When you turn around, the smile on your lips dies.

You're paralyzed.

Unconsciously, you take one step back.

"M-Master Jeon." You whisper weakly.

The man stares at you in a way that makes you feel small.

He enters the room and closes the door behind him. You take another step back.

He analyzes you from head to toe. His eyes are as cold as ice, as sharp as blades and as judging as the eyes of an executor. You feel impossibly cold. Your throat is dry. There's an acrid taste in your tongue.

This man always scared you. He barely even interacted with you in all the years that you and your family worked for him, but in the few times he did, it was always unpleasant. He treated your father badly, but this was nothing out of the extraordinary; his wife was equally awful to you, your mother and sisters. You always thought he was just another rich and arrogant man like many others you've met.

Tonight, however, you see in those eyes something you've never noticed and you've never seen in anyone.

He isn't just an arrogant man.

He represents real danger.

Master Jeon smirks. 

You instinctively put your hands on your stomach. Master Jeon follows the action with his eyes and tilts his head.

"I can't tell if you were smart or naive," the man starts. His voice makes your bones feel frozen. "I can't blame you for wanting a better life, kid. I guess that's all people like you dream of. But you choose the wrong person to take advantage of."

Your breathing is difficult. "W-What do you mean?"

"Don't play stupid with me, girl." He warns. "This situation is really bothersome. See, I let you and your family live in my property, let you eat my food and drink my water… and that's how you act with me? Try to trick my son? That's very low of you."

Your face contorts in disgust when you realize what he means. "You think I seduced Jungkook?! You're wrong! We love each other!"

"Don't make me laugh, kid." Master Jeon shakes his head as if he's reprimanding a little stubborn child. "Love you? Hah! You're a nobody." His eyes, once again, analyze you from head to toe. "I can't blame Jungkook for falling to your charms, though. It would be such a waste if he simply ignored you."

The disgust deepens. The way he talks about you makes you feel dirty. 

"But you see, kid, I'm not an evil man." He sarcastically says. "I don't like the idea of hurting women, a pregnant woman on top of that. I'm a good christian. And because of that, I'll give you a chance of ending this uncomfortable situation."

"I don't want to hear it," you say, although you felt your whole body shivering when he talked about hurting women. "You can't buy me. You can't separate me and Jungkook."

Master Jeon laughs darkly.

"Oh, darling. I can." Another shiver runs down your spine. "I want you to disappear forever. There's a carriage out there waiting for you. You'll never see my son again. Like this, you can give birth to your child peacefully and live your life as if you've never met him."

"No!" The anger overwhelms the fear and you end up screaming. "Jungkook is the father! You can't separate a father from his child!"

Master Jeon laughs as if you just told the funniest joke he ever heard. "Oh, you think you're so important, don't you? This child is a nobody, just like you. Jungkook made a mistake. He's a young man! Men make mistakes like this all the time. We're imperfect beings, after all. Don't you think that just because you're pregnant he has any responsibility over your child."

You're so shocked that you don't know what to say; your sight seems painted in red with pure anger. 

"You can't control me. You can't control us." Your fists tighten. "I won't leave."

Master Jeon's jaw clenches.

When he speaks again, his voice is dangerously low. 

"I said that I don't like the idea of hurting you… but what about your family, huh?"

You feel the world crumbling under your feet.

"W-What…?"

"Your family… a bunch of hungry rats. You've never really done a good job, in my opinion. Maybe it's time to get rid of all of them?"

Your hands start shaking.

"W-What do you m-mean…?"

"Do you know where my men are right now, kid?" A glint of satisfaction crosses Master Jeon's eyes when he sees your panic. "They're surrounding your small house. One order… and they'll burn it down. Your parents and your siblings are fast asleep right now, huh? I wonder how long will it take until they notice the fire…"

"No!"

Out of your wildest instincts, you throw yourself over him, fists tight, trying to hurt him everywhere you can touch. It's useless, though, for Master Jeon is overwhelmingly stronger than you and manages to grip your wrists in an instant.

"See how easily I can destroy your life?" He hisses. "Nobody would even notice that you and your family disappeared. That's because you're nothing, Y/N. You don't exist. This child doesn't exist. I won't let my son waste more time with you." Tears are rolling down your cheeks at this point. You've never been so scared in your life. "The only way to protect your family is to leave. So, what do you choose, huh?"

You look at Master Jeon right in the eye.

You know he isn't lying. You know this isn't the first time he kills someone - and he doesn't even feel guilty about it.

He just doesn't care.

You think of your family. They can't be punished because of your actions.

More than that… you think of your child. Their life depends on yours. You can't be imprudent anymore. 

You think of Jungkook.

It hurts so much that it feels as if you've been physically impalled. But, weakly and hesitantly, you nod.

"... I'll leave."

Master Jeon smiles, satisfied, and lets go of your wrists. "Good girl."

You don't have any strength to walk as Master Jeon's men take you to the carriage. The tears fall nonstop, you can't choke the sobs. You didn't even say goodbye to your family. They would never know what happened to you; you think of how painful it will be to your parents, searching for their daughter, never knowing if she's alive or not…

Jungkook will think you ran away from him. He'll never meet his own child. He'll never take them in his arms. 

You will never be in his arms once again.

You hug your own body, feeling empty and cold.

Why is the Universe so cruel to you? Why did it make you and Jungkook be part of completely different worlds? 

Why can't it let you be together?

You almost feel as if there are invisible shackles chaining your wrists tightly.

Only if you were not you, and he was not him… if you had different lives…

Quietly, you swear to yourself… if there is another life, then I'll go after Jungkook.

I will never give up on him.

I will never rest until we can finally be together.

× 1914 × 

"Sir," Jungkook starts, nervousness very evident in his posture and voice. "I love your daughter."

You nervously watch your father's reaction. He doesn't move, watching Jungkook very carefully. You fiddle with your fingers nervously. Your mother caresses your back, trying to calm you down at least a little.

"I promise I will take care of her, protect her and respect her until my last days." At the same time you feel touched, you also want to laugh. Jungkook is speaking in such a serious voice - he usually doesn't talk like this. It's endearing and makes your heart feel warm. "I will never hurt her or let her down. I ask you to approve our union, sir." He coughs and shifts. "Hmm… Please."

You try your hardest not to laugh, and so does your mother. God, he's adorable.

Your father still stares at Jungkook very seriously (threateningly) for long seconds. Long. Long. Seconds.

Jungkook is trying his best not to gulp.

"I know you since you were a kid, Jungkook. I know you very well." He gets up from the couch. "That's why I can't…"

Jungkook holds his breath.

So do you.

Your father finally breaks a smile.

"That's why I can't say no. You have my blessing."

Jungkook sighs in relief.

You get up in a jump and hug him, letting an excited scream slash the air. The atmosphere in the room immediately becomes light-hearted. 

"You didn't need to scare him so much, darling," your mother reprimands, although she has a smile on her lips. "We all knew you'd say yes."

"I had to put some pressure on him." Your father smiles widely and shakes Jungkook's hand. "I'm glad that you'll be part of our family, son." He then pushes Jungkook closer and his smile disappears. "But if you ever make my daughter cry, I will kill you."

"Darling!" Your mother exclaims.

You laugh and intertwine your fingers with his.

Jungkook and you are childhood friends - and you're in love with him ever since you can remember. He is not only your lover, but also your best friend. This is the moment you've been waiting for a long time; in a strange way, you always knew it would be him. It almost feels as if you've been perfectly crafted for each other. 

Your and Jungkook's families are very close. The village you live in is thriving and pacific. You're excited to tell your friends the good news; honestly, it seems that entire village knew it would happen someday.

Life is good.

And it is about to be even better now.

Nothing can put you and Jungkook apart.

You're walking down the street towards the grocery store in the morning when you notice a strange commotion.

The central square is more crowded than usual. There's an uncommon heavy tension hovering in the air; people talk to each other with worried expressions. Even Jungkook is standing outside of the grocery store, discussing with a neighbor. A frown shadows his features.

"Good morning." You greet the men. "What's happening?"

"Didn't you read the journal today?" Jungkook asks. His expression worries you even more.

He hands you the newspaper. 

The headline is written in bold, capital letters.

"War?" You mutter. It feels as if your inner temperature immediately decreases. "B-But… why?"

"Those important men," the old man who Jungkook was talking to scoffs. "They want to fight between themselves and end up involving everyone else!"

"B-But this is big." you mutter as your eyes quickly read down the page. Now you understand why everyone seemed so tense. "How many countries are involved…?"

"It seems that the troops are already marching." Another man says.

You just notice that your fingers were shaking when Jungkook holds your hand in a reassuring way.

You look at each other.

"This sounds horrible, Jungkook." 

"I know." He nods. "But I doubt that it will last too long. Besides, we're more than safe. This village is so far from anywhere important. We won't even notice anything."

You nod as well, staring at his reassuring eyes.

Of course, the news that a war started are bad. But Jungkook is right. There's no way you'll be involved in this. It's not as if it will be able to prevent your wedding.

It's not as if it can put you and Jungkook apart.

The living room of your house is dead silent.

The place is full of people: your family, neighbors, everyone sat on the couch, chairs or on the floor. The windows are opened, and there are even more neighbors peeking from them, trying to listen to the radio. Since your family is one of the few that possesses this device, you father made sure to invite everyone to listen to the news.

Every word spoken by the radio host seems to be striking through you. 

"Jesus Christ," your mother whispers. She holds the small crucifix close to her chest.

Hundreds. Thousands of dead soldiers, from many nationalities. Not only that: civilian cities have been bombarded as well. The number of dead is so great that the authorities have trouble counting them.

Something heavy and dark called grief hovers above your heads.

You grip Jungkook's hand even tighter. 

Your village is safe…

Right?

You sit quietly at the back of the grocery store and watch Jungkook finally close the doors at night. He looks tense and worried - like everyone else is.

"Look at these shelves. Almost empty." He sighs heavily, putting his hands on each side of his waist. "There's barely any merchandise; they don't sell us anything anymore. They give all the food to feed the soldiers in the battlefield."

"I think they need it more than we do." You say in all honesty.

"Well, yes, but soon we won't have any food."

Jungkook pushes a chair and sits in front of you. Your knees touch, you hold each other's hands. He looks so tired and drained. The war is starting to affect everyone: this grocery store is the only one in the village, and since the food is becoming so scarce, everyone suffers. 

"Jungkook…" you call quietly. He lifts his gaze to look at you. "I was thinking… maybe we should postpone our wedding."

"Why?" He frowns.

"Well… things are so difficult." You shrug sadly. "Besides, I don't think there's any atmosphere for weddings right now."

"Hey!" Jungkook leans closer and puts his hand on your cheek affectionately. "Don't say that. Of course, we won't be able to offer a big party like we imagined, but it doesn't matter, right? We can't let this bother us. We've been dreaming of this moment for years."

You sigh. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." He smiles. You love his smile. You love the way his eyes smile as well every time his lips do. "The situation doesn't matter… as long as we're together."

You can't help but smile, too.

"As long as we're together."

In one week, you’ll finally get married.

But you’re far from feeling happy.

There’s barely any food in the village. Past week, soldiers inspected every house and took the animals with themselves; they just let one chicken per family, and considering that many families didn’t even have animals in the first place, many of them are starting to face famine. Luckily, all the villagers are very united, so everyone made sure to share their food stock.

When you saw those soldiers arriving in the cars, you body paralyzed in sheer panic. Up until now, the war didn’t really seem real. You heard the news on the radio, on the journal, you knew that thousands of soldiers and civilians were dying. When food started to become scarce, it was bothersome, but it still felt too far. When those men wearing uniforms came, though, reality hit you all at once. 

The soldiers weren’t very polite. They entered the houses and took the animals without many explanations - what, of course, angered some people.

“Sir, you can’t take our animals like this!” one of your neighbors complained. When he spoke up, everyone on the main square went dead silent. “We have families, children! If you take our animals, we won’t have anything to eat!”

One of the soldiers - the one with the highest ranking, apparently - approached the man at heavy steps. His eyes reflected some type of anger and impassivity you’ve never seen before.

The eyes of someone who saw too much.

“Your compatriots are dying at this exact moment in the trenches.” His hard voice echoed around the square. “They’re agonizing, being dismembered, being taken away from their families. Offering your animals without complaints is the least thing you can do to minimize their pain. There is a war happening right now, sir. There are more important things to care about other than your family.”

No one dared to say anything else after this.

You feel that you already lost some kilos you shouldn’t have lost. Your dresses and skirts seem larger than they were supposed to be. You try not to complain about it, though; the kids needed to eat more than you, after all, especially now that winter is coming. The temperature at night already feels too cold.

The main square used to be a bright and happy place, even at night, when villagers liked to take late night walks. These days, though, people don’t have the courage to walk at night anymore. It seems that, ever since the war started, the colors of the world are fading away slowly. Everything seems… grey.

“They’re saying that this is the war to end all wars.” Jungkook says quietly. Since the square is empty, you two can have some privacy. Yet, it feels lonely. “But at what cost?”

You sigh heavily. The journals and radio are constantly spreading speeches full of patriotism, trying to make people support the war, but you can’t agree with any of them. Civilian villages like yours and the many others around the country have nothing to do with this war, nor the poor soldiers sent to fight. No one cares about patriotism or honor when a dead body is all that lasted from a loved one.

“But it could be worse,” you say. Small clouds of steam are formed at each breathing. “At least our village isn’t near the front. I can’t even imagine how much these people are suffering.”

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with yours. His cheeks are hollower and he has purple bags under his eyes; he also lost weight. You don’t like to see him like this. “When we planned our wedding months ago, this is not how I expected it to be.”

“Neither did I.” you admit sadly. This feeling of grief seems to be hovering above the village - and the world - all the time; no one feels excited about your wedding. “Are you sure we should still get married, Jungkook? Shouldn’t we wait a little bit more?”

“We can’t give up now that we’re so close.” He always finds the strength to smile when you need him the most. “I… I feel sorry that our wedding won’t be what we expected. I wish we could get married at better times, too. But… we’ll be together. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”

You can’t help but smile and nod.

Yet, something tells you that Jungkook doesn’t want to postpone your wedding because of some darker reason. A reason you don’t really want to consider.

Jungkook puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, pressing his lips on your temple. “I love you.” he whispers.

“I love you, too.”

In this world full of violence and uncertainty, at least one thing is certain: your love for each other.

That’s when you hear the sound.

It’s far. So far that, for a while, you simply ignore it.

But it becomes louder.

“A thunder?” you wonder, frowning. You and Jungkook look up at the sky at the same time; the clouds don’t look like storm ones. 

The sound repeats.

Both of you sit straight and look at each other. It doesn’t sound like a thunder anymore. 

Some villagers come out of their houses or look through the windows. Just like you, they stare at the sky in confusion.

Jungkook stands up and stares at north, eyes widened. 

You look at the same direction.

Far away, the dark sky lights up - but not in the way that it does when a lightning slashes the air. The light has a reddish color to it. It doesn’t fade away so fast.

The floor trembles under your feet.

“Y/N,” Jungkook calls. His voice sounds quiet, almost too shocked, and worried. “Go home. Now.”

You hear the villagers gasping and getting into their houses again as realization hits them as well.

Bombs.

In the next morning, your village is crowded with soldiers.

None of you were able to sleep at night. The unstoppable sound of the bombs and planes didn’t let you blink an eye. The sounds still seemed to be considerably far, but they were enough to make the floor shake and your worst nightmares become reality.

When the sounds finally stopped, a deep silence reigned.

Some hours after, early in the morning, the sound of cars took place. Cars, carriages and male voices.

Many voices.

Your father didn’t let you and your mother leave the house. You two had to sit there and wait for seemingly endless hours to know what was happening. The nervousness seemed to be eating you up alive.

Finally, your father came back. You and your mother get up at the same time, anxious.

“What’s happening?” you ask in a hurried tone.

You father passes his hand on his head. He looks shocked, worried and scared - all at once.

“A village some kilometers away from here was bombarded last night.” He announces. Your mother gasps and puts her hand over her chest. You just stare at him, frozen in place.

“A-And what are the soldiers doing here?”

His gaze rests in you.

You don’t like that gaze.

“Y/N, they… they…”

“They what?” fear starts to take control. You notice your father holds a folded piece of paper. “What is this?”

You forcefully take the paper from his hands and open it.

“They are spreading this around the village,” your father’s voice sounds somehow guilty.

You can’t move.

“What’s happening, darling?” your mother asks.

No.

“They came to recruit all the young and healthy men to fight in the war.”

Your fingers are shaking. Your eyes are already full of tears.

Jungkook.

You run out of the house, ignoring your parents screaming at you, asking you to stop.

You don’t care that it’s too cold and you’re not wearing appropriate clothes. You don’t care that the city is completely full of soldiers and some of them yell inappropriate comments about you as you run by. You don’t care about the way your neighbors look at you.

They can’t take Jungkook. They can’t.

When you reach the main square, though, your heart drops.

All the young men are standing in lines. The youngest is probably only fourteen years old; the boy cries quietly, trying to choke his own sobs. 

“Don’t take my son away from me!” a woman screams, being held back by other villagers. “He’s just a boy! Please!”

“Shut up, woman!” a soldier screams back at her in a threatening way. 

More people are crying quietly. The sight almost looks like a funeral.

Then, you find him.

He’s already standing there, jaw clenched, fists tight, eyes glued on his feet.

“Jungkook!”

He lifts his gaze.

You see the worry. The anger. The fear. Jungkook has never looked so scared in his life. 

And this is what breaks you.

You try to run to him, but a soldier holds you back. Jungkook looks at you, helpless, as you struggle in a desperate attempt to fight the soldier. Your sight is blurred due to the tears.

“No! You can’t take him! You can’t take him! Jungkook!”

That’s why he didn’t want to postpone the wedding.

He knew that this could happen anytime.

“Stop it, bitch!” the soldier yells and pushes you violently. Your shoulder hits the hard ground and you groan in pain.

“Don’t touch her!”

A commotion starts when Jungkook throws himself over the soldier and punches his face. The young boys don’t know what to do; the villagers can just watch in shock; other soldiers move quickly. Three of them are necessary to take Jungkook away from the soldier. You scream, desperate, when they start to punch and kick him. 

Jungkook lays on the floor, nose bleeding, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“It seems that you already want to start your days in the military with a punishment!” a soldier yells mockingly and spits on him. “This one won’t last a day in the front.”

The front?!

You try to get up, but suddenly feel too weak to do so. Instead, you grab the boot of a soldier nearby. The man looks down at you.

“P-Please,” you whisper. The sobs won’t let you speak properly. “Don’t take him away from me.”

The man stares at you in silence. However, his gaze over you is different from the other soldiers; he looks tired, sad and compassionate. Although he probably has no authorization, he helps you to get up with care.

“I’m sorry.” is all that he can say before walking away.

Panic grows stronger when two soldiers take Jungkook from the floor rather roughly and start dragging him away. 

All the other young men start to march as well, following the orders. Mothers and fathers around you cry harder. Their sons yell their farewells and promises to stay safe.

But you refuse to say goodbye.

“Jungkook! Jungkook!” again, you try to run to him, but a different person holds you back this time: your father. Your voice cracks. You can’t stop crying.

He looks at you behind his shoulder; the soldiers won’t stop dragging him. The fact that the glint of happiness you know so well can’t be seen in his eyes kills you.

The fact that, once again, Jungkook tries to smile in a reassuring way even though he’s bleeding and crying kills you even more.

“I love you,” he says, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’ll always love you. I’ll always come back to you.”

He disappears inside one of the cars.

You scream until your throat hurts. You cry until your chest aches and your sight is unclear. Your parents don’t let you run after the car as the troops leave the village, taking all the young and healthy men with them.

Taking the love of your life with them.

And you couldn’t even touch him one last time.

× 1915 ×

You don’t look at yourself in the mirror anymore.

You know that you’re way too thin, way too drained out of any life that still lasted inside of you. Long gone is the happy girl you used to be. She is dead.

It seems that happiness itself disappeared from this world.

Many villagers died during the year due to famine, diseases, or the severe winter. Soldiers came to the village to take as many clothes they could find - the army needed fabric to make more uniforms. It seems that the sun doesn’t shine as much as it used to. The sky isn’t as blue. Birds don’t chirp anymore.

You don’t even feel too shocked anymore when you hear the terrifying sirens and the sound of bombers from far and you’re all forced to hide in the few deep enough basements in the village.

The only thing you do is wonder where he is.

You didn’t receive any letter. Any report. Nothing. But you know he is alive, because no one came to your house bringing a folded flag and a medal as they always do to honor a fallen soldier.

Many of the boys that were forcefully dragged into the war have fallen.

But Jungkook hasn’t. This is what brings you hope. This is why you sit close to the radio day and night in the hopes to hear any news, any hint of his whereabouts. For weeks, the radio is silent, meaning that something broke the connection. But it always starts working again.

He will come back. 

You managed to hide your wedding dress from the soldiers. It’s still inside the wardrobe, untouched.

× 1916 ×

One morning, someone knocks on your front door.

You dreamed of this moment multiple times. The moment when Jungkook would come back, safe and sound, wearing a uniform. He would smile and hug you. His body and soul might be hurt, but you’re sure that you could help him get over whatever horrors he witnessed. 

You could face anything together. 

But you already know it isn’t him before you open the door. 

Instead, another soldier stands in front of you.

He carries a perfectly folded flag in his arms.

In this moment, something inside of you dies.

You lost sight of time.

An hour might have passed by. A day, a week. You have no idea. You cried yourself asleep so many times that it made difficult to know.

The flag doesn’t smell like him. It doesn’t represent him. Still, you hug it close to your chest as if it was him. The fabric is humid with your endless tears. 

Why is the Universe so cruel?

Why couldn’t it simply wait one week? 

Why did you have to be born in a world full of violence, full of death?

You don’t understand why the chains of fate chose to punish you of all people. You just wanted to be with the love of your life. That’s all you ever wanted.

Now, he’s gone. You’ll never see him, touch him, hear his voice. Whenever you think of how he possibly died, more and more tears come. The person you loved the most in the world, the kindest man you’ve ever met - lonely, cold, hungry and hurt in a filthy trench.

The last reminiscent of his existence is the letter laying beside you - the letter you weren’t brave enough to read.

You remembered the soldier that came to bring you the flag: he was the same man from two years ago that helped you to get up. With an amputated leg, he was too injured to keep fighting and was sent back home. But he insisted on coming himself to your village.

“My name is Jimin,” he explained quietly. He looked sad, his eyes were devoid of any bright feeling. “I fought alongside Jungkook in the same troop. He saved my life. He… He was a good man.” Jimin reached for something in the pocket of his shirt: a letter. “He asked me that if he didn’t make it, I should give you this.” The young soldier had to fight back his own tears. “He… he really loved you, ma’am. I hope this can give you some comfort.”

You stare at the dirty folded paper. 

Nothing in this world will ever comfort you.

Yet, with trembling fingers, you unfold the paper and start to read it.

Tears immediately begin falling.

It’s undeniably his calligraphy; by the way some letters are retorted, you can see that he wrote it hurriedly. The paper somehow smells like mud and his fingerprints are all over it.

Once again, you start crying.

This pain will never go away.

Dear Y/N,

I apologize that we couldn’t have the party we always dreamed of. In the moments the pain becomes too great, I like to imagine you wearing your wedding dress. I regret not stealing a glance at it. I should have ignored the tradition that says that seeing the bride wearing the wedding dress before the wedding day brings bad luck.

I don’t want you to suffer imagining what I went through or the things I saw. I beg you to remember us in our best moments, for this is the way I will always remember you. Your smile, your eyes, your hair; no one can ever take these memories away from me, and for this I am grateful.

I wish we could have stayed together. I apologize that I couldn’t keep my promise of being with you until my last days. I truly apologize, Y/N. I hope that your father won’t be mad at me. But I’m a man of my word; and, if there is the slightest chance of us being together again, if by chance there is a next life, I swear I will search for you and keep my promise. Not even this war, heaven or hell, not even death will make us part. 

We will be together. I swear.

Please know that I left this world in peace - because the last thing I saw when I closed my eyes was you.

Forever yours,

Jungkook

× 2017 ×

“Shit!” you exclaim when you check your phone and see the hour.

Oh, no. You can’t be late for Mr. Hwang’s class again. The man apparently already hates you for existing, you can’t give him even more chances to hate you. 

You’re not the most punctual person, and you don’t even have a proper excuse this time. You just sat at the mall’s food court to eat your Big Mac peacefully and boom - one hour has passed. It’s not really your fault that Percy Jackson and The Last Olympian is such a good book. You hesitated for a long time to start reading this series, but now that you gave it a chance, you can’t stop reading - especially not now that Percy is about to drown in the Styx River. 

Can this be considered a good excuse? Maybe Mr. Hwang is a Percy Jackson fan. Who knows.

Your roommate likes to call you The Goddess of Procrastination. You can’t even be mad at her. She’s right.

You sigh and throw the book inside of your bag. If you run fast enough, you’ll manage to make it into the class just ten minutes late. Still better than the last time that you arrived five minutes before the class ended. No one has ever looked at you with so much hatred in this life other than Mr. Hwang in that moment.

But, as you’re about to get up and leave, you hear a phone buzzing.

And it isn’t yours.

You frown, noticing for the first time that a phone lays on the empty chair in front of you. Checking the screen, you see that there’s an incoming call. The name Jimin is written on the screen.

You think of simply ignoring it. It’s none of your business. But something - curiosity, maybe - makes you take the phone and answer the call.

“Hello?” you say, hesitant.

“Oh, thanks Goodness,” a male voice sighs in relief from the other side of the line. For some reason, you feel goosebumps. “Hm, hi. I think you found my phone.”

“Yeah, I think so.” 

“Where did you find it?”

“Hm… at the food court. Here in the mall near the subway station.”

You hear another male voice through the line saying “I told you that you forgot it there, idiot.”

“Shut up, Jimin.” the man scolds and coughs. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m not very far from the mall right now. Could you please wait a little bit so I can pick up my phone with you?”

You bite your bottom lip nervously. You’re way too late for Mr. Hwang’s class. You can’t waste any more time.

Yet… almost as if an invisible force makes you stand in place, you nod (even though he can’t see it). “Alright. But please, be fast.”

“Okay! I’ll be fast! Please, stay exactly where you are. I’ll be there in five minutes!”

He hangs up the phone.

You sit on the chair again, hopeless, and place his phone over the table, so he can see it clearly when he comes. Your leg shakes impatiently as you look around, trying to figure out who the owner is.

You stare at your bag.

One or two more pages won’t hurt.

You take the book again and open where you stopped. This is a tense moment of the story. I mean, you know that Percy won’t die. That’s the beginning of the book after all. But still, the tension is so great that you feel yourself at the edge of your seat. It’s also kind of embarrassing that you don’t know what’s about to happen since this book was released almost ten years ago. Your roommate likes to annoy you, saying that you like to read books for children, but if she had any idea of how good-

“Hm, excuse me.”

You lift your gaze from the book.

There’s a young man standing beside you. He has pitch black hair, fair skin, and honestly the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen. He wears a grey oversized hoodie, black pants and sneakers.

And, for a moment, the world around you seems to stop.

You don’t know exactly why you feel that you can’t breath.

You stare at each other for an embarrassingly long moment before you come back to your senses. You cough and stand up in a jump.

“I-I guess you’re the owner?” you say in an awkward manner. The man blinks and nods; he also seems a bit out of place.

“Y-Yeah!” he smiles. Your heart jumps. He takes the phone. “Thank you so much for waiting. I was going desperate already.”

“It’s alright.” you shrug. “I lose things all the time, too.” 

“I hope I didn’t make you late for anything.”

“No! You didn’t.” He did. “It's totally fine.”

You stand in front of each other awkwardly.

There’s something… strange about this man. You can’t tell what. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s extremely good-looking. But for some reason, your heart is beating fast, your stomach is doing flips and you can't look away from him.

"Alright." He coughs. "I'll… I'll get going. Thank you again."

"You're welcome."

You wave at each other and walk away in opposite directions.

You have to exhale heavily. What the hell was that?! Your heart won't stop beating fast. The whole situation was so strange. He also looked somehow-

"Hey! Wait!"

You feel a hand touching your shoulder. You turn around.

It's him again.

He has a small smile on his lips. He analyzes your face with a frown in a puzzled expression.

"Don't we know each other already?" He asks. "I… I have the feeling that we have met somewhere."

You're ready to say no, but as you analyze his features back, you feel a shiver.

You're sure you've never met him in your life.

Yet, at the same time… he looks familiar. Like the memory of a dream. A dream with horses running freely in an open field. A dream with a choir of nuns singing praises in a great church. A dream with stars, with whispered confessions, the sounds of a storm. A river flowing quietly. The smell of soap. The taste of salty tears, a letter marked with mud. Swords and crowns. A white wedding dress.

You feel dizzy.

"I… I don't know." Your mind is confused. "I don't remember very well."

He nods. His smile becomes timid.

"Maybe we could get to know each other?" He offers. "As a way of thanking you for taking care of my phone. We could get some coffee, maybe? Or soda. Or a beer. Or whatever you like."

You remember that there is still a class to attend.

But Mr. Hwang can wait.

"Coffee sounds nice," you say, smiling back at him.

His own smile widens. It's adorable how his eyes are also smiling. "Great! So… what's your name?"

"It's Y/N."

He repeats your name quietly, almost as if tasting it in his tongue. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. My name is Jungkook."

× 2020 ×

Jungkook falls silent when he finally understands what you're saying.

It's painful to see his frown deepening, the confusion disappearing and being replaced by subtle sadness.

You weren't ready for this.

But it has to be done.

"So… you're leaving." He repeats quietly. You nod.

"Yes." It's a shame that you can't even look at his eyes. "You know how this job offer is important to me. I… I couldn’t say no.”

He opens a small smile. This is what hurts the most. “I know. I’m proud of you, Y/N. I know how much you fought for this job.” His smile fades away as he reaches for your hand. “But… I can’t say that being away from you makes me happy.”

“I’m not happy about this either,” you admit. You want Jungkook to understand how much this is being difficult. How much it’s being painful. 

“So… how long will you be away?” 

You inhale heavily. 

“I don’t know.”

Jungkook seems frozen in place. 

“You… don’t know?” he repeats quietly. Almost as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

The pain becomes stronger.

“The plans are for me to stay indefinitely.”

This is when Jungkook finally realizes why you look so sad. 

He leans on the chair and passes his hand on his hair. You see the color draining from his face. Oh no. As stupid as it seems, you don’t want him to suffer… but you knew he would suffer anyway. 

“Are you telling me that you’re leaving the country indefinitely?” That look in his eyes… “But Y/N… what about us?”

“We can travel and see each other.”

“None of us have the money to keep traveling around like this.” Jungkook points the obvious. Sure, you expect to have a better salary with this job, but things won’t be easy during the first months. 

“We can make it. We’ll figure out what to do.” your own words sound empty, barely a desperate attempt to avoid the obvious.

“How, Y/N? You’re going to the other side of the world and you might never come back.”

You blink rapidly to try to dissipate the tears. “B-But… I don’t want to leave you.”

“You are leaving me.” This sentence felt like a dagger being buried in your heart. Jungkook exhales heavily, trying to calm himself down. He gulps and closes his eyes for a moment.

When he opens them again, he smiles in a reassuring way. Even though he’s hurt, he still tries to console you. This is what breaks you the most. You never understood why he has this habit. You’re so used to it already…

Jungkook reaches for your hand again. “Y/N, I want you to know that I’m truly happy for you. I know how this job is important. You’re going after your dreams. And I… I don’t want to stand in your way.”

“No! You’re not in my way.” You grab his other hand, feeling your heart clench at every minute.

“But I don’t want to trap you here if that’s not what you want for your life.” 

“Jungkook!” You call out. This is not how you want things to end - not that you want it to end at all. “We’ve been together for three years. I am with you because I want to. You’re not trapping me.”

He blinks rapidly again. You notice that he’s trying to fight back the tears, just like you. “But I don’t think this relationship will work like this.”

You can’t say anything. 

He’s right. You know it. You chose to accept the job offer and leave the country. You knew that neither of you would be able to stay away from each other like this.

“What do you mean…?” you whisper, asking the obvious.

“I mean that we should end now.” You want to say no. But again - you know he’s right. You also don’t want to trap him in a relationship when you’ll be away for most of the time. 

You can’t hold back the tears anymore.

“I’m sorry.” you whisper weakly.

“Don’t apologize. We all make our choices, don’t we?” He’s still smiling, but you see no hint of happiness in his eyes. He looks down and presses his lips tightly. “Maybe… maybe in our next life, we’ll be together.”

You don’t know why he said that so suddenly. 

But, for some reason, it hits you deep. So deep that you’re left speechless.

Jungkook gets up. “I really wish you’ll be happy, Y/N.”

For a moment, it seems that he wants to say something more. But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns around and walks away.

He’s glad that you can’t see his tears.

He’s also glad that he didn’t have enough time to show you the ring he bought yesterday.

Although the airport is busy, you feel lonely and cold on the inside.

You’ve been staring at nothing for a long time now, sitting alone in the corner. You said your goodbyes to your friends and family; all of them wished you luck and said you made the best decision of your life. Building a good career and being financially successful is all that matters in this world, after all.

But you can’t feel happy.

You tried to convince yourself that changes are difficult. Moving to a different country with a different culture and habits is never an easy task. It will take some time to adapt your mindset to it. You also can't ignore the fact that you’re leaving everyone you know behind; you’ll have to make new friends. All of this is hard. It’s normal to feel a little bit sad.

The thing is - you’re not feeling just a little bit sad.

You actually feel that there’s a deep hole inside your chest.

The image of Jungkook’s sad smile does not left your mind all these days. He looked so devastated, so disappointed… yet still tried to encourage you. He thought that he was being a burden in your life; this is what hurts you the most. Jungkook was never a burden. Ever since you met him that day at the mall, it seems that your life has brighter colors and happiest days. Jungkook understands you like no other person ever did. You two have such a deep connection that you can tell what each other are feeling or thinking even if you don’t say anything. It feels that you’ve known him your entire life, even though you met him only three years ago.

There are times when you have strange dreams with him. They are blurry and hard to remember when you wake up, but sometimes, you see him and yourself in situations you’ve never lived before. It gets even stranger when you remember that you and him were wearing old clothing from centuries ago.

When you told your roommate about your dreams - they started barely a week after you first met him - she laughed at said jokingly:

“Maybe you guys met in a past life.”

You know she wasn’t serious. You’ve never been one to believe in things like reincarnation, and you also didn’t think much of it. But the idea of meeting him in the past - the single fact that you may have existed before - was… unsettling.

Especially because you also had many nightmares with him.

Nightmares in which he was taken away from you, and you could do nothing but cry.

Whenever you had one of those nightmares, although you couldn’t remember them clearly, the bad feeling lingered with you during the whole day. This feeling only vanished when you saw him in front of you. He is here. We are together.

Not anymore.

This is being hard to deal with.

You always dreamed with this job. Actually, living abroad was one of the main objectives in your life. This job opportunity is everything you ever wanted. You shouldn’t be feeling sad like this, not now that you achieved your biggest dream.

Soon, when you settle down and start experiencing the life you always wanted, the sadness will fade away. You had a beautiful however short story with Jungkook. You’ll only carry good memories of him. Having a good and healthy relationship to remember is more than most people have, right?

There’s no reason to feel so bad.

You lift your head when you hear the speakers calling all the passengers for your flight. You get up, straighten your clothes and take the tickets. 

The time has come.

You walk to the boarding area, pushing your suitcases with you. This is the beginning of your new life. The new you. 

Each step feels heavy.

Your breathing and your heartbeat echoes on your ears. You can’t really focus in anything around. 

You’re leaving Jungkook.

But Jungkook himself said that you should do what you wanted. He supported your decision. 

You’re leaving Jungkook.

You dream of this career ever since you were a teenager. That’s why you worked so hard up to this day. This is your reward. Many people your age would kill to have this opportunity.

But you’re leaving Jungkook.

You can’t go back now. You have signed your contract. They are waiting for you at-

I will never give up on him.

You stop on your tracks.

I will never rest until we can finally be together.

Time seems to have slowed down.

Why… why did you hear this voice in your head? 

It sounded distant… like one of those blurry dreams. 

You shake your head and start walking again, but slower this time. Your palms are sweaty for some reason. 

It feels as if an invisible force is pulling you back. Something deep within you - something you can’t remember and can’t comprehend - echoes like an alarm. Something you should be aware of, but you can’t figure out what it is, it doesn’t matter how much you try.

A strong feeling of grief. An emptiness. Almost like crying for endless days and nights until you had no tears left to cry. A sadness so deeply rooted that no one would be able to rip out.

A feeling you are familiar with.

Meeting Jungkook was a miracle. Of all the people in this immense world, you came across the one that matches you the most. Many people live their entire lives without meeting someone like this.

And you’re leaving him.

A thought that doesn’t make much sense whispers in your head… nobody, no circumstance, nothing is forbidding your love. Nothing can separate you. For the first time, the Universe isn’t being cruel to you.

The only thing pulling you apart from each other is… yourself.

It’s your choice.

“Ma’am?” you hear a male voice saying. Your sight focuses, and you see the airport security guard looking at you awkwardly, waiting for you to show him your ticket and passport. “Is everything okay?”

The bridge that leads to the plane is right in front of you.

The bridge to your new life.

Not even this war, heaven or hell, not even death will make us part. 

We will be together. I swear.

“I can’t.” you whisper. The security guard frowns.

“Excuse me?”

“I-I can’t.” Adrenaline starts to boil your blood. “I need to leave. I need to go back.”

The other passengers look at you with confusion as you walk away from the line. Then you’re running. The suitcases shake with your violent and ungainly run, but you couldn’t care less. You need to leave this airport. You need to meet him. The taxi driver looks scared when you yell, asking for his help to shove the carriers inside of his car. Still, you don’t care about how crazy you look or how people are looking at you.

All you can think of is Jungkook’s galaxy eyes looking at you as if you meant the world to him. 

He is your world.

You can’t leave your world behind.

You’re sweating and your hands are shaking and you can’t control your breathing when you finally stop in front of his apartment and knock on the door unceremoniously.

Nervousness and adrenaline creeps on your skin; you’re aware that your hair is probably a mess. You don’t know how he will react. You didn’t think of calling him before coming; that’s just how crazy you are.

The door cracks open and you hold your breath.

Jungkook’s eyes widen when he sees you. He’s wearing sleeping clothing and he’s got bed hair, which should mean he was sleeping, but the bags underneath his eyes tells you the opposite. He looks bad - similar to when he would spend entire nights awake studying for finals, only worse.

It looks like he can’t breath, too.

“Y/N,” the way he says your name makes your heart jump. “W-What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving today…” he looks behind you and notices the suitcases, what makes him frown in confusion.

“Yes.” you nod. “I was supposed to leave today.”

“Supposed?” He is so confused. “Did something happen?”

“Yes.” You sigh deeply before speaking. Your blood feels boiling hot; your stomach twirls and jumps. “I went to the airport. I said goodbye to everyone. I was ready to leave.”

Jungkook just watches you in silence. You see when, slowly, his eyes start to light up again as you speak; they light up with… hope.

“B-But then, I stopped and thought that I would never see you again. And… and I don’t think I can take it.” I can’t take it once again, a voice whispers in your mind. “You said that you wish I’d be happy, but I can’t be happy if I’m not with you.”

The tears start trickling down your cheeks. This time, though, they’re tears of joy.

“I love you, Jungkook. And I’m not waiting for another lifetime to be with you.”

Jungkook engulfs you in a tight hug.

You hug him back just as tight; he kisses the top of your head multiple times and you hear him sniffling. Everything feels right and at place. Being with him is the right thing, regardless of what anyone can think.

From far, you have the slight impression that you hear something… the sound of steel chains breaking apart. Your wrists suddenly feel weightless. Almost as if an invisible force finally lets you go.

Free.

Jungkook leans away but still keeps you close; his eyes and nose are reddish and his face is wet with tears. He has the smile you’ve learned to love. You wipe his tears away. He looks gorgeous, as he always was.

“Hm… I bought you something.” He says sheepishly and puts his hand in his back pocket. “I don’t know if you will like it. I also don’t know if it’s the right time… we’re too young, but… that’s just how I feel about you.”

You have to cover your mouth with your hand when Jungkook takes a beautiful ring in his fingers.

“I-I don’t know if you want this too, but I want to give it to you anyway…”

“Of course I want it!”

Jungkook almost falls back when you throw yourself over him again, tightly embracing your arms around his neck. He laughs and lifts you up, and you lock your legs around his waist. 

He takes you inside the apartment. None of you remember about your suitcases outside.

“I am so happy,” Jungkook whispers between the kisses; you feel the happiness radiating from him like a bright light. You only know each other for three years, but it feels as if you’ve been waiting for this moment forever.

Nothing else matters in this moment. Right now, you belong to each other. 

You always did.

Nothing in the Universe can change this fact - not even the past, the present, and the future.

“I love you.” Jungkook says, looking deep inside your teary eyes.

“And I always will.”

[everlastingdreams]

Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart   Chapter 22

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: Fire And Gold.

Notes: Again, a short one, sorry. 

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. Smut. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter:  22 / lol Gonna keep the chapter count a secret until the end.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

No.

You refused to let fear kill you before the flames would.

Everyone around you was in a state of panic and the smoke was thickening fast, time was running out.

Escaping by roof would only end up in arrows striking all down, the only way was further down “Father Samael! Does this church have a cellar? Is there a hatch to the outside there?”

The priest wasn’t sure of it “I…there is a cellar were we stock flour and wine. But whether there is a hatch…”

There was a spark of hope in you “We need to head down there, if we stay here the fire will lock us in! If we are lucky, the cellar will protect us.”

Father Samael feared for the worst “The smoke…”

It was a valid concern, but the options were slim “Still better than burning alive, Father.”

On that, all could agree.

“Follow me.” The priest said and repeated it so the others would hear it too.

Sister Mary was holding the frightened young nun by the arm, no one there was not shaking from fear at the dire situation.

You followed the priest through the church, he avoided choosing paths with fire as much as possible.

On the last pathway, all came to a halt, fire had engulfed the place completely.

“The cellar is that way…” The hope left Father Samael’s voice.

Even from a distance, the heat of the flames was too much to bear and you had run out of ideas

A glass bottle filled with oil and a burning cloth to seal it off flew behind the frightened group and shattered upon impact with the wall.

It was like an explosion of fire that set aflame the wooden floor it touched.

Now stuck between two ruthless fires, the fear settled into your bones completely.

Some were crying, some were praying and some were frozen in shock.

Was this how it had been in the abbey?

And now you would meet the same end, it was a bitter realization.

The heat from the fire forced all to huddle together near the wall to try and avoid the inevitable.

You took the hand of a girl who looked to be in absolute shock and hoped to bring some solace to her fear and to yours.

When the flames got closer and the smoke filled your lungs, you shut your eyes and hoped it would be quick…

  But then, a nun exclaimed “Heaven…look!”

Your eyes opened, the flames were acting odd.

They got closer and then suddenly abruptly withdrew, as if they tried to fight a force that held them back.

The flames struggled and fought to burn everything in sight.

The battle knew it’s victor when the fire’s color transformed into a bright green that overpowered the flames they were born from.

It could not be…

The mark on your arm responded to them, it ached to be closer to the flames.

Carefully you stepped to the green fire, to the shock of those seeing it happen.

You raised your hand and held your palm near the flames, it felt as if a warm wave of air tickled against it.

Suddenly your hand was grasped and you were pulled forward.

You had not planned to step into the flames, so being pulled into them send you into a panic “No!”

You pushed back, trying to break free. The thick smoke and bright flames an unearthly strange combination that caused terrible vision.

It was the hushing voice and the feeling of being in an embrace that calmed you down.

“I have you. You’re safe.” Lancelot was shaking as much as you were.

His words a comfort for both you and him.

When trying to see his facial features, all you saw were the ashen markings glowing a green that matched the fire “You’re doing this…”

He released you from his embrace and took hold of your hand “Yes.”

History was repeating itself, they were trying to burn what held his heart.

This time, after the druid dream, he knew what had to be done.

Red spear called out to him from behind “Hurry up, Ash Man! Tell them to get over here so we can get the fuck out off here!”

He arched a brow in the direction of the voice “She is right.” then called out to the nuns and priest “The fire is safe to pass! Follow us and stay near!”

Without another warning you were pulled through the Fey Fire by him, the odd sensation of the flames against you made you hold on to his arm as he guided the way.

The nuns and priest had formed a chain, holding hands so no one would get lost in the smoke or fire, and followed the two of you.

Red Spear and him had broken open the cellar door to enter the church upon arriving, it proved convenient now.

“Down the stairs! Hurry up! Fall and get left behind.” Red Spear commanded the group.

The raider’s captain had a strangely effective way to motivate a group to keep going.

Once in the cellar, Red Spear pushed the cellar doors up and open that had been long hidden from sight by weeds overgrowing it.

They had almost overlooked it if they had not actually stepped on it and felt it move when they were on their way to sneak into the church.

Red Spear was the first out and offered a hand to help the others up and out as well.

Lancelot stayed until all others and you were out of the church.

He did not know the limits to his power when it came to distance and would not take a risk.

Once outside, almost everyone was coughing from the smoke and shaken by the horrific ordeal.

You watched the church burn, the Fey Fire began to overpower the flames and the mystical green cloaked the church in it’s glow until the green flames extinguished themselves and spared what was left.

The bystanders witnessing it were speechless.

And you felt Lancelot stand right beside you, arm touching yours “Fey Fire…”

The burning light in his ashen markings was dimming, the magic he was born with eased itself back into it’s slumber “Are you hurt?”

You were no longer shaking from fear, the adrenaline had mixed with admiration for the one who had saved you.

The spark in your eyes accompanied the breathless answer “No.”

That sure caught his attention, especially when he could see the lovestruck look on your face.

You looked around “The guards-”

He responded “Dealt with.”

Those guards outside had been the perfect practice. Once he realized that even the fire on the burning arrows could be transformed and abide his will, they were taken off-guard by the green flames setting them alight.

This is what Yeva had tried to show him in the dream that connected him to his deceased family. This was why.

This is how he would protect the Fey.

“Where are Gawain and Arthur? Are they safe?” You asked, worried about their lives.

He leaned closer to whisper “Catching us an Abbot.”

Wicklow had made one mistake.

By letting his spitefulness cloud his judgment, he had left half of his guards behind at the church of Helgenstone to enact his wrath.

It had left him more vulnerable then he had thought.

You protested “But his guards-”

He put that worry to rest “Half of them are dead. The others will be soon, if they are not already.”

The confidence he had in the others was strong “We should go find them and make sure.”

Lancelot nodded in agreement.

Red Spear was being embraced by a couple of nuns who ignored her objections to it, it was likely due to shock that they did not see the danger that came with touching the raider’s captain.

It was you who went over to help her while he stayed behind and watched with amusement.

It was the priest that came to thank him in the meantime. He had seen the man before once and the priest remembered him, like most did, because of his appearance.

You made your way past the group of thankful nuns and locked your arm around Red Spear’s “We have to go, Sisters. Our work is not done yet.”

Sister Mary said “Be careful, Sister Pym.”

It earned you an odd look from both Red Spear and Lancelot.

Now it was Red Spear that was pulling you away by the sleeve of your tunic.

You quickly acknowledged Sister Mary before you could be dragged off too far for her to hear “I will. Thank you, Sister Mary!”

Lancelot whistled for Goliath, Llamrai’s reins had been tied to Goliath’s because there was no chance that the mare would come when called on her own.

Unlike yours, Red Spear’s horse came running to her when she called out for it.

“Up you go, Sister Pym.” Lancelot handed you Llamrai’s reins.

You took of the veil and tossed it against his chest, he even caught it by reflex too with a smile that could charm all “Twit.”

After mounting Llamrai, you noticed that the satchel with your clothing was attached to the saddle and your cloak laid in front of it. It would be nice to change into them again as soon as you got the chance.

  The three of you rode fast, it was beginning to get dark outside.

It wasn’t far or long until you ran into an abandoned carriage and horses that stood around grazing as they waited for their missing riders.

A carriage that clearly belonged to a member of the Church, crosses were embellished on the wood.

Lancelot recognized it “Wicklow’s carriage, we dismount here and follow the tracks.”

“What tracks?” Red Spear questioned out loud.

He dismounted Goliath “The ones I will find of them. Come.”

You pressed your lips together to prevent a smile when seeing the captain roll her eyes at his confidence.

She walked over to Llamrai and pulled your sword from where it sat safely at the side of the saddle, then handed it to you “Keep it close.”

Grateful for the reminder, you took your sword to carry it, there could be trouble up ahead.

Lancelot drew his sword when the scent of blood reached his nostrils.

Too much blood loss for one to have survived.

A little further ahead, you discovered the bodies of two Trinity Guards.

Red Spear glanced over them “One struck by arrow. Another by blade.”

Two different kinds of weapon and attacked at the same time.

The Ash Man stated “Gawain and Arthur. The Abbot will have tried to flee alone if his guards were on the losing side. He is the kind of man to sacrifice others to survive. They will not be far, come on.”

You went to walk a little closer beside him, Red Spear was right behind you.

It felt like she truly had your back, something you didn’t really expect.

“I still have the knife.” You spoke to her.

She knew you weren’t just holding on to it for it’s usefulness, but also because it had been a gift from her that you valued “Good.”

Lancelot arched a brow, curious about the fact that the raider’s captain was not as harsh with you as she often was with others.

Perhaps it had been the compliment you had given her the second you had met her…

He jested “And you still have the sword.”

The one he had given you.

You quipped back “Don’t worry, Ash Man. I value both.”

Red Spear kept her voice low in case enemies were near “The knife is sharper than the sword.”

He looked back over his shoulder at the captain and bit his tongue.

His eyes squinted at you, then focused on the path ahead until he came to a sudden halt again “I can smell more blood from up ahead.”

There was no doubt in his mind that it came from multiple casualties nearby.

The sound of whistling halted all, it had come from nearby.

“That was Arthur.” Red Spear was able to tell.

Together you walked to where the whistle had come from.

And soon, Arthur called out “Over here!”

You hurried over and saw Gawain who was just finished tying together Wicklow’s hands.

“Took you long enough.” Arthur’s sarcasm was strong.

Lancelot matched it with ease “We were occupied by trying not to burn alive.”

The Ash Man saw the corpses of the guards who had been accompanying the Abbot.

As the Abbot fled with three of them, the others were dealt with before Arthur and Gawain caught up with the coward. If the Abbot had not been selfish and kept his guards in group instead, Arthur and Gawain would not have been able to fight them all.

Neither Arthur or Gawain had come out if this fight unscathed, the Manblood had a bloody nose and the knight a cut near his neck.

Their skill was admirable, together they had taken down more than six of those bastards.

One of them was still alive and received Lancelot’s boot to the face when trying to get up from the ground.

He would have left it at that, but Red Spear planted her spear into the heart of the guard.

Wicklow was furious “How dare you?! Unhand me!”

Without any form of warning, the Abbot received the pommel of the Ash Man’s sword against the nose.

The sound of bones breaking made you flinch.

Yuck.

For Lancelot it was easy to do what had to be done “You will answer our questions. The more you lie, the more you bleed. Understood?”

The Abbot glared up at him “I do not take orders from Father Carden’s former bloodhound!”

The result of Wicklow’s defiance was a hard smack to the back of the head by Gawain.

“I’d do as told if I were you. You have angered a lot of us.” The knight warned.

You stepped forward, ignoring Lancelot’s signal against it “The abbey, the Helgenstone church, that was your doing.”

Wicklow send you a look of utter hatred and disgust “I am cleansing these lands of the Fey and their influence. That includes all those who aided them or would aid them, such as yourself.”

That had been an unmistakable threat.

Not even Arthur or Gawain could have stopped the rapid response it got from Lancelot who punched the Abbot across the face for it.

Then he took a couple of steps away to calm himself down.

Wicklow landed on his knees on the ground, blood seeped from his busted lip.

You looked at Lancelot, he made eye-contact briefly and nodded.

It was time to face the monster who had caused such horrors “You had everyone at the abbey murdered because they defied your orders, their bodies buried in the garden…”

There was not an ounce of guilt in Wicklow “Traitors to the Church have no place in God’s garden. I am certain your uncle taught you that too.”

It was clear that he was trying to get under your skin, threatening you and reminding you who your kin was.

It made you snarl at him “I never believed in his lessons.”

The arrogance was dripping from him “I can see that. You even let his Weeping Monk defile your skin. I hoped to have burned you with the rest of them at the abbey.”

From the corner of your eyes, you saw Lancelot get closer.

Stepping in front of him is what stopped him from sinking his sword into the Abbot.

Your hand was on his arm “Lancelot, be calm. Don’t let him get into your head.”

The Ash Man’s fury was evident, he clasped a hand around the one you held your sword in “Let me kill him. Or do you wish to do so yourself?”

At those words, the Abbot did have a fearful expression.

Blue eyes bore into yours, they tried to read behind the veil of bravery you had now.

You had never killed anyone and he knew it.

Then you looked at Wicklow, as long as he lived, he would hunt down those who had defied him.

Percival was not safe.

Lancelot was not safe.

And neither were you.

Wicklow held a grudge that no mercy would spare anyone from.

No bargain could be made with someone who could not be trusted.

It was a necessary evil to end his life “You’ll never stop, not unless someone else stops you. I will not let you hurt anyone else ever again.”

He could feel your hand tremble when you moved away from him.

Lancelot caught your arm and moved you closer again “You do not have to do it. Say the word and it will be done.”

You shook your head “He killed my friend and wanted you and Percival dead. I wanted vengeance, I chose this path.”

The sword felt heavy in your hand when stepping towards the Abbot.

Was this not what you had wanted? To avenge the deaths of Anne and those who had suffered under his tyranny.

The more your hand trembled, the firmer your grip on the sword became.

Where Lancelot let you make the decision for yourself, Gawain stepped in and came over to stop you.

The knight spoke his wisdom “It is never too late to choose a different path. Just like our Ashen friend, you can stop when you want to.”

It made you halt, there was no judgment in his tone. And when you looked at the others, you realized that none of them seemed angry for your hesitation now.

Arthur reassured you “It’s alright, y/n.”

“I’ll do it.” Red Spear would jump at the opportunity.

Gawain rubbed a hand along your arm “Let one of us handle it.”

Lancelot stepped forward “I will do it…” you were about to refuse again until he cupped your cheek, it was a plea from him “Let me.”

Wicklow witnessed the doubt and used it to bargain for his life “She will not kill me because she is still off the Church, she cannot deny her heritage just as you cannot. Let me free, y/n, your path can lead to salvation if you choose it.”

You had nothing to prove to your friends, but the Church was mistaken if they thought you would ever be a part of their tyranny again.

You moved past Gawain and Lancelot, breaking free from their wish to protect you from the burden that taking a life would bring.

Your sword rose, ready to strike.

And then, all went dark.

   Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten @the-great-adventures-of-me @linkpk88  @fxrchxldws  @elenaoftheturks @slytherlight @beananacake    @crystallizedtime  @moonlightaura03  @angrygardendeer  @have-aheart   @5am-cigarette @arcanenature  @thewinterskywalker @notyourwildestdream @coloursforyourportrait @koressecretidentity @nike90​ @n1ghtlux​ @rachlovesactors​ @luckyzipperscissorsbat​ @morena-doing-stuff​  @the-fangirl-diaries​ @gipsydanger17​ @heavenly1927​  @phantasmalbeiing  @labyrinthonmymind  @asarcastic-thiamstan  @rainyv-skies​

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[omgyouatetheprincess]

Janus’ Playlist

AHH JANUS' PLAYLIST LETS GOO

Not that anyone asked for my opinions

Okay so I'd like to start by saying that Thomas, Joan and Talyn did an amazing job on this playlist because every song fits Janus so perfectly.

Here are some of my thoughts on the songs and some interpretations I came up with or found on the internet.

Trigger Warnings - abortion. Mocking of religion.

Black Hole Sun - okay at first I was like 'wow this is really smooth and nice and the vocals are so sweet.' Then I heard the lyrics. "In disguises no one knows,

Hides the face, lies the snake". It's such a Deceit song and I imagine him dancing to it (with or without a partner).

Black Hole Sun by Scott Bradlee's Postmodern Jukebox, Haley Reinhart

It Seemed That Better Way - holy heck, can I point out that this song is such a bop? Leonard Cohen has such a soothing voice and it reminds me of Patrick Page (aha Hadestown) and if Janus wasn't played by Thomas, I could imagine this as his voice. The song is about not knowing what the truth is and what to believe, and has religious meanings which could be countering Patton and his Catholic beliefs.

It Seemed The Better Way by Leonard Cohen

Anywhere - I feel like Patton would hate this because the first line is "It's a beautiful world if you've been lied to by parents and priests". Anywhere describes how the world isn't a beautiful as it may seem, and that people lie to make you see it.

Anywhere by The Scarring Party

Talking At The Same Time - it is immediately dark and that everything seems fake and a... Lie. A lot of Deceit's songs are about the truth or that everything is a lie and I have to give massive kudos to Thomas, Joan and Talyn because they did an excellent job portraying Janus through his music taste. The song describes how everyone talks at the same time, and what I interpret that as is that everyone says the same thing over and over. It's hard to explain so I'll let you make your own interpretations of it.

Talking At The Same Time by Tom Waits

all the good girls go to hell - I'm not going to lie (ha) but I don't like Billie Eyelash, but I'll see past the artist. My first thought when I saw the song without hearing it is that it's a good choice and Janus probably loves Billie Eilish. Spotify has meanings of songs so I'm going to go off there: "This song is in the perspective of the Devil / no matter how good you are, desperate measures will eventually break you / turn you into bad." I feel like Deceit would sing this around the house. This song is twisting Christian symbolism and the lyrics can be interpreted as Eilish praising people who go to hell as it's better than being morally good. (Also, just switch Peter with Patton)

all the bad girls go to hell by Billie Eilish

Denial - KDJIEKAKSNDENIAL? In Putting Others First, Janus is referred to as Denial and now this song? Everyone start clapping for Thomas and his team. Anyway, the song discusses themes of conflict within a relationship, and the denial and insecurity of being in a relationship near it’s end (source: Genius). Also, Roceit vibes?

Denial by The Vaccines

Trust In Me - first of all, heck yeah! I predicted this song to be on his playlist because it's a slimy snake song from Disney? Hello this is Thomas? I think it's a great song and Johansson's voice is angelic. Kaa is manipulating and hypnotizing Mowgli, and if Deceit could do the same you can bet your bottom dollar he would sing this. We love our not-evil snake boi.

Trust In Me by Scarlett Johansson

Razzle Dazzle - Janus singing this with Roman? Yes please? Okay so I get that this is a villian song, and I love that, but imagine Deceit in a shiny sequenced dress? I also haven't seen Chicago yet so I'm going off what I've heard - this song describes how it is too easy to put on a show and make the audience happy. Basically, acting is just professional lying. The line "Though you are stiffer than a girder they'll let you get away with murder" is so clever (no spoilers but he had it coming)

Razzle Dazzle by Richard Gere

[SLIGHT HADESTOWN SPOILERS]

When The Chips Are Down - I hecking love Hadestown so you can bet I squealed when I saw this song. This song is sung by the fates, who are portrayed at untrustworthy. The title of this song is derived from the idiom “when the chips are down”, meaning “when a very serious and difficult situation arises”. Eurydice is in potentially one of the most serious and difficult situations she could be in: her life is at stake. After Hades invites Eurydice to come with him to Hadestown, the Fates appear and encourage her to consider his offer. They tell her that she should look after herself now that she is starving and the “chips are down”. (Source: Genius). In my own words, the fates are convincing (or manipulating if you will) a poor helpless girl to put herself first and save herself. It also mentions how if you be good to get into heaven,you get a knife in the back.

Go listen to Hadestown, it's an incredible soundtrack.

When The Chips Are Down by Anaïs Mitchell, The Haden Triplets

[TW! Abortion]

Mandy Goes to Med School - okay so this song is about abortion, so we'll have to go off context. Mandy (or Amanda Palmer) has to pay for Medical School by giving abortions in an alleyway with a coat hanger, so I interpret this as having to do shady stuff to get what you want. I think him and Remus would enjoy this song together. I'd also like to note that Logan had a song by Amanda Palmer in his playlist... That isn't relevant but I wanted to note that.

Mandy Goes to Med School by The Dresden Dolls

I Put A Spell On You - 50SOG vibes? I really like this song, it has a nice rhythm and the lyrics are so creepy. This gives me vibes of Deceit cornering/pining another side/love interest because if our baby boy wants to be happy, he should. This is similar to Trust In Me because it talks about enchanting someone to get what you want. "I don't care if you don't want me, I'm yours right now." Chills. Janus singing this song would complete my life.

Also the singer calls the love interest daddy but we ain't shaming

I Put A Spell On You by Nina Simone

Evil Night Together - well the title has evil in it so... Perfect for our Evil Snake Boi. This song gives me huge Demus/Receit vibes because it's basically like "let's go on a date in the creepiest place."

What if we drank a drink in the torture chambers... Haha jk ...unless 🥺

Evil Night Together by Jill Tracy

Don't Tell Mama - another musical song? Roman would be impressed. This song is about an English singer, who's mother thinks she's in a convent (a nun), when really she's in a German s3x club. You can really tell why it would be so bad if her secret got out.

Don't Tell Mama by John Kander, Joel Grey, Jill Hawarth, Cabaret Ensemble, Harold Hastings

You're A Cad - definition of a cad: a man who behaves dishonourably, especially towards a woman... This song has a nice beat and gives me TikTok vibes, but it also gives me Moceit vibes (I say vibes too much) because the singer is saying "you're a villain, a cad, a rascal... But I'm like a fish on a hook for you and I still want you." Also, she has a sweet tooth?

You're A Cad by the bird and the bee

As Far As I Can See - all aboard the angst train, CHOO-CHOO "As far as I can see, nobody loves me. As far as I can tell, nobody loves you either" this song gives me such Roceit vibes because the meaning is pretty simple: if nobody loves Janus, then he'll take everyone down with him. I knew there would be that one song that tries to make me cry for our poor baby.

As Far As I Can See by Phantogram

Criminal - first of all, the cover is beautiful. Apple describes the song as “a description of feeling bad for getting something so easily by using your sexuality.” She also told in an interview: "One of my friends said to me, “Oh yeah, of course you aren’t writing.” So I was like, “The next time you see me, I’m gonna have a new song.” I wrote “Criminal” in 45 minutes when everyone else went to lunch because I had to have a hit. I can force myself to do the work, but only if someone is right up behind me." Which is the level of pettiness I see in Deceit and I am here for it. The context of the song is seduction and manipulation, so Janus using his sexuality to manipulate the other Sides is a cursed thought.

Criminal by Fiona Apple

Change - if any of them listened to Lana Del Rey, I sort of expected it to be Virgil. Change shows how Del Rey has matured, and I feel like it also portrays Janus' ability to adapt. "Change is a powerful thing... I'll be able to be honest..." Does this mean he's trying to change? Will we get more character development? LIGHT SIDE JANUS?

Change by Lana Del Rey

Devil In The Details - this song is about trusting the wrong person and taking advantage of something. "I am the first one I deceive if I can make myself believe the rest is easy.". More angst, yay.

Devil In The Details by Bright Eyes

Come Little Children - if you had a My Little Pony phase, you probably know this song. Come Little Children, also known as "Sarah's Theme" and "Garden of Magic," is a song sung by Sarah Sanderson in the film, Hocus Pocus to hypnotize children to lure them. Manipulation: a common theme.

Come Little Children by Erutan

Into The Unknown - I was really shocked to see this song until I realized, no, it wasn't the same iconic theme from Frozen 2. This short song is from Over The Garden Wall, a show Thomas watches but I have not. "If dreams can't come true, then why not pretend?" The show plays heavily on the battle between dreams and reality (source: Genius). The way I see this, Janus is convincing the Light Sides to do something, or specifically Roman to make his dreams come true through selfish means.

Into The Unknown by The Blasting Company

This playlist is one of the best because every song had me saying “Janus would so sing this". If you have any thoughts, feel free to comment!

As always, take it easy guys gals and non-binary pals peace out

[richmond-rex]

What do you think Henry VII remembers, if anything, of his other uncle Henry VI?

This is such an interesting question and something that I myself have been wondering, so thank you for providing me with the opportunity to expand my thoughts on here 🌹

We know that Henry VII only ever saw his uncle King Henry VI once during his life, when he was 13 years old. However, I’d argue King Henry must have caused quite a great impression on him, and considering Henry Tudor was old enough at that time, also a profoundly lasting one. So far young Henry Earl of Richmond had been living as a ward of his uncle Jasper’s enemies, the Herberts. By 1470 his old guardian, William Herbert, had been executed, and then, as the Earl of Warwick changed sides and brought about Henry VI’s readeption, Henry Tudor was returned to his uncle Jasper who took him to London to meet King Henry VI. That Jasper felt like acquainting his nephew with his brother denotes a special degree of closeness and advocates for his idea of family, in my opinion.

According to André, Henry VII’s court poet and self-styled regius historiographus, on 27 October 1470 Henry VI held ‘a splendid feast with the nobles and best men of the kingdom’ to commemorate his return to the throne. As the king was washing his hands, young Richmond was brought to his presence, and according to André, ‘the king prophesied that someday the boy would undertake the governance of the kingdom and would have all things under his own power.’ Polydore Vergil, a historian that began his service under Henry VII in 1506, wrote in his Three Books that in that 1470 meeting ‘the king... is reported to have said:’

“This truly, this is he unto whom both we and our adversaries must yield and give over the dominion.”

It seems not even Vergil lends much credence to this tale as expressed by his choice of words: reported to have said. As expected, this myth has largely been viewed as Tudor propaganda and indeed the episode has been immortalised in Shakespeare’s Henry VI part III. In the play, King Henry VI meets a toddler Henry Richmond (then escorted by Somerset), calls him ‘England’s hope’, and says Richmond was ‘Likely in time to bless a regal throne’. Given that King Henry VI had his own son Prince Edward as his heir at the time, it seems unlikely he would ever have said such a thing. However, if anything remotely close to that happened, then I agree with Leanda de Lisle in saying that it must have been King Henry VI taking Henry Tudor to be his own son Edward, who thanks to his imprisonment in the Tower he had not seen for five years (and would not ever see again). It’s absurdly sad to think King Henry VI would confound his nephew with his son but arguably also not out of the realm of possibility. We don’t know if Henry Tudor saw his uncle King Henry again, but it’s also not unlikely that he, his mother and uncle Jasper stayed at court for the feast of All Hallows’ (1 November) and All Souls’ Day (2 November).

If King Henry VI ever made such prophecy, wittingly or not, then it must have greatly impacted on Henry Tudor. Henry VII believed to have been chosen by God to, against all odds, become king of England. He once wrote about ‘the crown which it has pleased God to give us with the victory over our enemy at our first field’. Henry Tudor was reported to be very pious—he made pilgrimages to the shrine of St Thomas Becket at Canterbury every Easter, as well as frequent pilgrimages to the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham and donations to the shrine of St Vincent Ferrer in Brittany. He also founded the cult of the Breton saint St Armel in England and boosted the teachings of St Francis by his patronage of the Franciscan order. He especially favoured the Observants (the Franciscans, also known as the Greyfriars), granting them annuities for the establishment of monasteries in England and abroad. It seems he also favoured staying at religious houses when travelling or going on progress around the kingdom.

Most importantly, Henry VII held a singular devotion to the Virgin Mary and his adoption of the red rose as his personal symbol—aside from dynastic reasons—had everything to do with the religious connotations of that flower. Henry VII could have associated himself with his uncle Henry VI by adopting his antelope badge, for example, but instead, he chose the five-petal flower associated with the Virgin Mary and the Passion of Christ. The Franciscans were noted for their devotion to the Passion, and Henry VII had come in contact with the Observants during his exile in Brittany. The rose had five petals like the five wounds of Christ—St Bernard of Clairvaux once stated: “As many wounds as there are on the Saviour’s body, so many roses are there! Look at His feet and His hands; do you not see roses?” 

Forgive me for still going on a tangent about it, but Henry VII’s personal devotion to the Virgin Mary and the doctrine of her Immaculate Conception is exemplified in his Book of Hours, where a miniature shows a figure representing the king kneeling at a prayer desk before a vision of the Virgin as a baby held by her mother, St Anne (or, alternatively, The Virgin and the Child Jesus). His devotion to the Virgin was also highlighted in his rebuilding of the Lady Chapel (now Henry VII’s Chapel) at Westminster Abbey which I will return to in a moment.

I’m not sure but I think it was Vergil who reported Henry VII as having said that religion was his ‘continual refuge’ during exile. His piety has been largely attributed to the influence of his mother Margaret Beaufort, herself also a very pious woman. But given how many years—and formative years those were—they spent apart, I imagine that Henry must have looked up to someone closer to him at the time, namely his uncle Jasper Tudor. We know that after the death of Catherine of Valois Jasper and his brother Edmund were raised by nuns at Barking Abbey, and that then at some point they joined King Henry VI’s court. According to John Blacman, Henry VI’s biographer and chaplain writing in 1485:

[…] and like pains did [Henry VI] apply in the case of his half-brothers, the Lords Jasper and Edmund, in their boyhood and youth; providing for them most strict and safe guardianship, putting them under the care of virtuous and worthy priests, both for teaching and for right living and conversation, lest the untamed practices of youth should grow rank if they lacked any to prune them.

Blacman also claimed that the king personally protected his half-brothers from sexual temptation by keeping ‘careful watch through hidden windows of his chamber’ (yes, I know). Like his uncle King Henry VI, Henry VII would also set a court that ‘maintained the highest standards of sexual behaviour’. Indeed, Retha Warnicke made an extensive compilation of scandals during the first two Tudor reigns and not a single case of sexual misconduct was found to have taken place during Henry VII’s time, marking his court as a decidedly different one than Edward IV’s had been.

Going back to Henry VI’s supposed prophecy, his words surely must have acquired a great weight in Henry Tudor’s mind by 1483 when he made his bid to the English throne. By that time King Henry VI had become a popular saint in England and even though Edward IV had tried to have him modestly—and somewhat obscurely—buried in Chertsey Abbey, Surrey, people had started to flock to his grave. A peasant claimed that Henry VI helped him when he had a bean trapped in his ear, which only popped out after he prayed to the king. Painted images of King Henry VI began showing up in churches around the country, like this one at Barton in Norfolk:

One of King Henry VI’s most ardent devotees was Henry Tudor’s mother Margaret Beaufort (Jasper’s feelings towards the cult are unknown) who had met her kinsman when she was about nine years old. When King Henry VI allegedly offered her the option of remaining married to Suffolk’s son or be remarried to his brother Edmund, Margaret says St Nicholas came to her in a dream dressed as a bishop, telling her to choose Edmund. Again, if this story is true or not, we may never know, but Margaret told that to her confessor John (bishop, then saint) Fisher—why would a famously pious woman such as Margaret Beaufort lie to her own confessor, thus committing a sin? It might be that the events took a mystical turn in Margaret’s imagination as a young girl, but that she associated divine intervention to hers and her son’s fate, and likewise to King Henry VI’s proposal, is clear.

It seems Richard III tried to control King Henry VI’s ever-growing cult by moving Henry VI’s body from Chertsey Abbey to St George’s Chapel at Windsor, a place where visitors wouldn’t have easy access to the king. Nevertheless, when Henry VII came to the throne he wholeheartedly encouraged pilgrimages to the place. Henry VII launched an official campaign to have his uncle canonised, with several petitions to popes Innocent VIII, Alexander VI and Julius II. Henry also ordered the compilation of a book of miracles worked by his uncle, and a biography of Henry VI was published in 1500 claiming that Henry VI had been ever pious and chaste during his life, towards his queen never behaving ‘unseemly ... but with all conjugal honesty and gravity’. Henry VII planned to have the body of King Henry VI re-interred at the heart of the new Lady Chapel he was planning at Westminster Abbey. 

However much Henry VII enjoyed good relations with the papacy, especially Pope Innocent VIII, his campaign to have his uncle King Henry VI canonised never came into fruition. Henry VII decided for him and his wife to be buried at his new Lady Chapel instead, next to the tomb of his grandmother Queen Catherine of Valois. In his will, he stated his wish for his body to be buried:

“in the Chapell where our said graunt Dame laye buried, the which Chapell we have begoune to buylde of newe, in the honour of our blessed Lady.”

That doesn’t mean Henry VII set aside the memory of his uncle King Henry VI. He employed the same man that was overseeing the construction of the Lady Chapel at Westminster, Reginald Bray, to continue the rebuilding of St George’s Chapel at Windsor set in motion by his predecessor Edward IV (it came to be informally known as the Bray Chapel). The modest thirteenth-century chapel of Edward the Confessor was expanded into a vast cathedral-like chapel where, importantly, Henry VI’s body was placed alongside a famous relic, the fragment of the True Cross (a reliquary known as the Cross of Gneth) and the bones of John Schorne (revered for curing gout and toothache).

We may argue that Henry VII’s campaign to have King Henry VI’s canonised was fundamentally political (much like Richard II’s campaign for Edward II) as many historians have done. King Henry VI as a saint, combined with his supposed prophecy, would successfully contribute to the image of Henry VII’s reign as one chosen by God. When we put Henry VII’s religious devotion into perspective, though, his efforts to have ‘the glorious King Henry’ canonised take another dimension—in fact, there’s no doubt that in Henry VII’s eyes God had intervened in his favour. Henry VII’s will also stated his wish for an image of himself to be placed in St Edward’s chapel at Westminster, depicting him returning to God and the Virgin Mary the circlet with which he had been crowned at the Battle of Bosworth.

This is me purely speculating, but I think that even though Henry VII only came in contact with King Henry VI once in his life, his half-uncle might have exercised a great influence on him through his uncle Jasper. Jasper seemed to have been genuinely attached to his brother Henry on a personal level as well as devoted to his political cause. If Henry VI’s saintly qualities had been enough to impress Margaret Beaufort, it is very likely that they might have impressed young Henry of Richmond as well.

[blogmusicismydrugxo]

EVERYTHING WRONG WITH WARRIOR NUN (2020)

Welp, I know what you’re thinking now: Noon disappears for 2 months and then comes back just to bash on something that isn’t even a kdrama?? Well, I mean you are right. I haven’t had the time or will to write kdrama reviews in a couple of months, and I haven’t watched that many kdramas either recently. But then, pretty much just for shits and giggles, I watched this show and it spited me enough to want to write about it, so I’m just going along with it. I am in no way, shape or form a cinematographer, or writer, nor do I generally know much about film making, so take what I’m saying here with a grain of salt. These are just my observations and opinions, you are entitled to your own.

An important concept in fillm and tv is suspension of disbelief. While as a viewer, we are aware that the things on screen are not real, we pretend that the characters are real people who are experiencing those things. Therefore, a show must set up a framework that makes sense to the viewers, in which they can place all of the story. In general, that means that everything on screen must follow the rules of logic and common sense, unless the story explicitly diverts from that. A story about magic does not adhere to our common sense, but if the writers give us a set of rules to logically explain how magic works in this universe, we can suspend our disbelief. It’s important that the explanation is logical, and that the story does not break it’s own rules. This is one of the things Warrior Nun fails to do.

Warrior Nun breaks the rules of common logic on multiple occasions, in big ways and small, without offering the viewer an explanation that would help us accept this deviation from our world. Obvious SPOILER ALERT.

(Dead) bodies don’t work this way

- Ava has been paralysed for most of her life. We know she had her accident when she was 8, and that Sister Frances murdered her because she was about to “age out of the system”. We can then assume she is 17 or 18, which means she’s spent about 10 years being spoon fed and cared for. There is absolutely no way Ava just stands up and goes about her life when she receives the Halo. While the resurrection by the Halo and the apparent healing skills it gives her may account for the fact she seems to even have muscle mass left in her arms and legs, she hasn’t used any of those muscles for a decade. Have you ever seen those videos of people who were paralysed learning to do stuff again like walk or even hold objects? Other than losing the muscle they need to do those things, they also lost the motor skills to do them. Ava shouldn’t know how to walk, or even hold a spoon to feed herself, much less run or dance or fight (we’ll come back to the fighting later)

- TW // death and dead bodies: In one of the early episodes, a Tarask searches Shannon’s corpse because it’s looking for the Halo (that is now in Ava’s body). We can assume that at least 24h has passed since Shannon died, because the priest has already cleaned up her body and it’s night time again. The Tarask uses its claw to turn the body around and then slashes open Shannon’s back to check if she’s still bearing the Halo. There’s two things wrong here. First of all, Shannon’s body would not flop around the way it is shown in the show. Rigor mortis, or the stiffening of the limbs and other parts of a corpse, starts setting in a couple of hours after death and is complete after around 12 hours. If anything, her body should be behaving like a massive plank or brick, and not gently and delicately turn over with little force. Secondly, and I don’t know why I even have to say this but here we are, dead bodies don’t bleed. In a later shot, we see Shannon’s back is covered in blood where the monster cut her open, but how is that even logically possible when there is nothing pushing the blood through her body?

- Another illogical aspect of this show is Ava’s fighting. She can’t have spent more than a few days training with the nuns (she effortlessly finds JC and friends again, who act like she wasn’t gone for too long), so it’s ridiculous how she suddenly has the ability to fight monsters and demons and even other nuns. At some points she seems to not know what she’s doing at all (for example when she swings her sword at the Tarask attacking Lilith), and then mere days later she’s battling an angel/demon as if she’s on equal footing with him. Even if the Halo has given her muscles, it can’t have given her fighting skills because she constantly gets bested at the start of the season. The show has to make a choice: either she’s completely helpless and a klutz, which would endear her to the viewers more, or she’s a super skilled fighter, which would make more sense for the plot but also makes her less accessible and more Mary Sue-like. 

OTHER SMALLER AND LARGER THINGS THAT BOTHERED ME:

- The internal monologue was soooo annoying. This stuff works well in books, but not in a show like this. Ava seems to be a pretty expressive person, but her inner monologue is so boring and monotonous. I get they wanted her to be snarky and sarcastic, but it just sounded like she was desinterested. Big nope

- Can this girl just stop running away for 2 minutes? It got pretty annoying after like the third time.

- The whole love storyline with JC was a big let down as well. I loved the awkward flirting at first, it totally made sense for Ava to be unsure and a bit stupid when this is the first guy she’s met after years in forced isolation. But then she suddenly kisses him in a cupboard while they’re hiding and they immediately have sex? Not only does that not really fit her character, it’s just unnecessary for the plot. Oh, and then the next episode they drop him and he’s never seen again even though Ava genuinely seemed to like him. Justice for JC, Netflix. He deserved better. 

 - The whole angel/demon in a wall plot for the last couple of episodes didn’t make much sense to me and, to be honest, by that point I didn’t have the motivation left to even try to understand it. 

- The acting in general was stilted and unnatural. I can forgive Alba Baptista in some ways because she’s not a native English speaker (I assume), but the writing really didn’t help. I feel like the writers of the show thought their viewers were stupid and tried to explain every single detail in the show through characters’ dialogue. Big tip: if you want to have exposition, don’t do it through characters who supposedly already know the information and have no use for saying it explicitly. 

- When did we decide Jilian Salvius was a good guy and not the bad guy? Made no sense at all. And I won’t even start about her son. Confusion all over. 

SOME REDEEMING QUALITIES

While it was an absolute train wreck of a show, I did enjoy some aspects of it. Here’s a short list in no particular order. 

- The setting. Absolutely loved the Andalusian background and the juxtaposition between the ancient architecture of Southern Spain and the Vatican with the high-tech lab. 

- The whole catholicism thing was present but not overbearing. I am a pretty convinced anti-clerical atheist, but the religious aspects of the show didn’t bother me. The use of religious language was appropriate but not condescending. 

- I loved the use of foreign languages in the show. Father Vincent is Spanish so of course he speaks Spanish with the Spanish art collector. The cardinal and mother superion naturally talk in Italian, Ava grew up in a Spanish orphanage so of course she learned some Spanish, Camila speaks English with Father Vincent because another nun is present but does throw in a couple of words in Spanish when that makes most sense. So often these type of shows force every character to speak in English even when it makes no sense. (One thing though: why is it Orfanato St. Michael’s? Why not San Miguel?)

- Beatrice. Just everything about her. Give me more.

[capriswritingnartshenanigans]

Snapshot #2: The Storm (Negan/Carrie -F!OC)

Negan/F!OC, Carrie. SFW. 3,502 words. Warnings: Typical Negan language.

Links:

AO3

Snapshot #1: First Time

Carrie is leaving to help the Kingdom move to Hilltop as the harsh winter has finally done their home in. On return, she hears about what happened between Judith and Negan, and quickly goes to see if they are okay. Includes spoilers for Episode 16 of Season 9, "The Storm".

I pace uneasily as I prepare for the trip to the Kingdom to help them move to the Hilltop safely. With their pipelines only worsening with the impending winter and then finally busting, it was decided they needed to take shelter in another community for the time being. And, I wanted to help. However, that also means I have to leave Negan, and leave him in the hands of the others, namely Gabriel. 

I shiver as I exit out into the chilling air, snow crunching under my feet, my steps quick as I hurry to the said man’s prison. It’ll be weird not coming to sit with him every day, like I had for the last, what, four and half, maybe even five years now? I mean, I go on runs sometimes or I go help when and where I can with the other communities, but it’s been a long time since then. I’d taken over constant guard duty, which involved caring for Negan daily and keeping him company. Even if that’s currently possibly in jeopardy with the last time me leaving him in Gabriel’s hands resulted in Gabriel accidentally giving him an escape. My lips thin at the memory of the talking-to Michonne had given me once I got back. I’d never seen her so angry. 

I shake that thought off as I find the prison’s main door open due to Gabriel already being inside. I try to ignore the eager but also nervous fluttering in my stomach and chest at the thought of seeing Negan. Then the thought of having to say good-bye, even if it’s only for a little while hits, twisting those flutters into something else. As I go down the flight of stairs and approach where Gabriel stands, I hear Negan immediately start up, and it takes all my will not to grin at both that and the droll expression Gabriel is shooting him. “Oh, ho, ho! Gabe, looky here, my boss lady’s done fuckin’ showed up for duty! She’s standin’ attention as we fuckin’ speak, just like I would be if the shitty ass cold wasn’t freezing my nuts off.” 

And, no matter how hard I fight it, I still look over at him, finding a wide grin on his lips and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. My stomach goes wild when my gaze meets his and I find the usual warmth there waiting for me. “Yes, hi, Negan. I see you’re up early. Whatever could have caused that, I wonder?”

“The goddamn cold, fuck. It’s colder than a frosty ass head-nun’s vagina up in here.” It takes all my will to not snort and burst into laughter and I very quickly retract my gaze to Gabriel, who looks completely unamused while my shoulders shake violently at my repressed laughter. 

“U-Uh-huh, I s-see,” I stutter out, trying so hard to keep it together. “Well, uh, Gabriel, you mind giving out fellow inmate here another few covers? To, y’know, keep off the head-nun’s frosting of his cell.” The priest rolls his eyes and deeply exhales from his nose.

“I guess so. The group isn’t leaving yet, stay with him while I go get them, Carrie,” he requests as he quickly leaves, shaking his bald head. I purse my lips, look at the ground for a moment, then turn to Negan again. He’s steadily making his way to the bars, a long smile that shows off his dimples on his face. I approach them too, degloving my hands and wrapping them around the bars. I wince at the bite the cold has given the metal. As he closes in, he gently lays his hands over mine, and brings our heads next to one another, our noses practically touching. 

“Hi,” I reply softly, staring into his hazel eyes. 

“Hi. So, you have to leave today huh?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but I can hear the disappointment and unhappiness he tried to hide. He doesn’t want me to go.

“Yeah. There’s a big storm that’s moving in, and we can’t afford to let the Kingdom get caught in it as is. Hopefully, I’ll be back in a few days, four or five at most.” He seems to deflate further, his smile wavering. 

“Be careful, yeah? Don’t make me have to engineer another fucking escape to come lookin’ for your ass or else you’ll be coming home with some marks on it,” he says warningly, playfully. I grin at such a suggestion. 

“Why, Negan, it almost sounds like you’re saying you’ll spank me.” His smile becomes stronger, turning into a smirk. His voice drops an octave, which sends electricity skittering all through my body. 

“Oh, Miss Grimes, it almost sounds like you might be into such a thing,” he teases back, his eyes twinkling. I can feel a slight blush working up in my face. 

“Mmm, I guess you’ll just have to find out, huh big guy?” I look away for a moment, before taking a more serious tone. “Negan.” His playfulness drops with mine. 

“Yeah?” 

“Please, try to behave. Don’t give anyone a reason to do something stupid with so many of us not here,” I plead quietly, my voice earnest. When he starts to lean away, chewing the inside of his lip, I add, “Not all of them are as nice as me and Gabriel and none of them surely will enjoy your sense of humor for long.” He snorts offendedly. 

“What, you sayin’ I have a shit sense of humor now? Gonna say good-bye, be a good little fucker, and then say that?” 

“I adore you and your sense of humor,” I answer, knowing my look has to be teasing the hell out of him, “but you also have a tendency to antagonize anyone not me or Judith when you’re left alone with them. So, I’m asking you to just play nice until I get back. Please.” His eyes hood slightly and his thumbs begin running circles over mine as a soft chuckle rumbles out of his chest.

“You adore me?” He lightly tongues the inside of his lip. “Well, I gotta say, that’s real fucking cute and sweet of you.” I roll my eyes.

“If you haven’t figured that out by now, mister, then I do think we need to find a CAT scan for you,” I answer a little under my breath, but I know he hears me. One of his hands lift off of mine to stroke my cheek, then tuck a strand that fell from my ponytail behind my ear. 

“Yeah, I don’t know many people who’d sit ‘n argue for, shit, two or three hours just to get a man another table, chair, and candles.” As returning crunching steps filter down to us both, Negan retracts his hands with hesitation, letting me step back from the bars. 

“No, I did that because it’s a basic human right. Same for the showers.” Just then, Gabriel comes down with two more comforters. “Gabriel, if the storm gets bad-” 

“Don’t leave him down here?”

“Yes. Please do what you have to to see he isn’t left here. It’s not right. And if I find out otherwise… Rick’s rage will be nothing compared to what mine will be like,” I promise the priest. 

“I know. I agree,” he answers as he hands the comforters through the bars to Negan. “The group is ready now. You should go join them.” I look to Negan, whose expression causes my heart to squeeze painfully. 

“Please remember what I said,” I murmur, wanting to touch him. God, what I wouldn’t give to hug him right now. Before I leave. You never know if you get to come back. 

“I will,” he answers in a raspy, low tone, his voice sounding thick. 

“Promise?” He nods. I feel my lips press into a line as my heart fights to stay, while my brain knows I need to go. The climb up the stairs feels like the longest staircase I’ve ever had to climb.

~~Four days later, returning to Alexandria~~

“God, when we get home, I’m sitting in front of a heater or a fireplace until I feel cooked,” I grumble from atop my horse, shivering. The storm may be over, but the cold has done nothing more than settle in further. Shadow nickers in agreement, though I’m not sure how she plans to find something like that to be in front of, too. I lightly pat her neck.

“Aghhh, if I have to hear you complain about the cold anymore until we’re home, I will personally see to it you sit outside on the cold ass concrete,” Michonne answers, rolling her eyes playfully. I throw her a filthy look. 

“Them’s fightin’ words, Michonne,” I warn sternly. She chuckles, shaking her head, sending her dreads shifting around her head. 

“We’ll tie her to one o’ the church pillars,” Daryl chimes in, carefully keeping his face from my view. “Won’t have to listen to her ass sit and whine about the concrete.” I shoot him a withering glare and flip him off, which he returns with a low laugh. 

“Like to see you try, Daryl. You forget I’m good with a tranq gun.” Everyone laughs at that, though some roll their eyes or shake their heads. He snorts and it sounds like he mutters, "Bet," under his breath.  

As the gates come into view, I can see two guards in attendance, Kyle and Laura. Then, I can somewhat hear them shouting, something like, “They’re here! Open the gates!” Which is exactly what they do as we approach, heaving snow out of our path as the carriage comes closer to the entrance. Rosita is waiting there, as is a few other residents whose names don’t form in my mind. As those of us on single horses climb off, a few of said unnamed residents come up and take them while Daryl, Rosita, and I round the carriage to get the excess weapons and supplies out to put away. 

I grunt as I heave up a stack of spears and poles and some more wire. “Heavy ass shit.” 

“Best be glad we don’t have you on building rotation or we’d never hear you shut your complainin',” Daryl says with a grunt of his own as he grabs a couple of big boxes. 

“Shut up, Dixon, before your bike has an accident,” I grumble as we head to the store houses, Rosita follows with some stacks of fabric and excess grain from Hilltop. 

“You touch her, you won’t have hands left to keep your prisoner in line.” 

“Oh, who’s gonna take em? You? I can run faster and you have more weak areas pal,” I point out with a dip of my head towards his lower half. He lets out a disgusted noise. 

“Oh, you gonna fight dirty then? Cheap shot.”

“Says the man who prefers headlocks.” We split up as I head to the armory and he heads to the food cabinet. “Don’t trip over anything, Daryl! Hate to think of what that pickle vinegar will do to your vest.” 

“Yeah, hope you do trip over somethin’ and save me a headache later.” We both laugh as we head into different buildings, cut off from each other. Scott’s currently in the armory, checking supplies from the looks of him with a clipboard in hand. 

"More spears?" 

"And gardening stuffs for when planting times come around again," I reply, shifting my arms so he can grab the spears. After he does, I head to the second room back from the armory where all the gardening supplies are placed. While setting everything down, Scott strikes up a conversation.

“You guys just got back, like, now right?”

“Yep.” 

“So you don’t know what happened?”

“No?” I reply, a little harsher than I mean to due to throwing poles up on a high shelf. “Nah, haven’t heard a thing, man. I came here straight away.”

“Well, we were moving to Aaron’s house because the other fireplace just about blew up (since only like two places has fireplaces and shit was freezing), and Dog had been loose earlier, so when he started barking Judith tore after him!” 

“She what?!” I nearly yell, causing several rows of chicken wire to fall down as the row I was adding crashes into them.

“Yeah! And Negan went running like a bat out of hell after her! She’s alright and he is mostly, but he did fuck his knee up- hey! Hey, where are you going?!” I barely pay Scott’s yells any mind as I haul ass out of the building and on to the medical ward. He had best be here or there will be hell to pay, I promise silently as I nearly bust the door down. I turn to see Michonne exiting out of one of the single rooms on the left. She gives me a concerned look. 

“Is something wrong?”

“I just- I heard what happened- where’s Negan?” I speak so fast my lungs hurt in an effort to give my words air they need. She nods to the room behind her as she nears me. 

“He’s in there; he’s alright, but he has to rest his knee for a few days-”

“And Judith?”

“Fine,” Siddiq answers before she can as he rounds from the main room. “She’ll be just fine. A little cold burn, but that’s it.” I nod, relieved, but… I still want to see Negan. 

“I’m going to speak to Negan, make sure everything went well with Gabriel.” Michonne gives me a knowing look, one I pointedly ignore as I enter his room and close the door behind me. I hear his intake of breath, and I turn to him. He’s on a bed with his usual long-sleeved button-up, trousers, and a white t-shirt, with one knee bent and propped up with a pillow. He gives you one of his little grins, the ones with just a touch of wickedness. I can see spots of cold burn on his face, especially his cheeks. 

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m right at his side, cupping his face with one hand while the other strokes his buzzcut hair and the back of his neck. “Well, shit-”

“Thank you.” He stops when I speak, his grin fading a little. “Thank you for saving her. Are you okay? What happened?” He leans into my touch, his eyes closing for a moment as I stroke his brow. 

“I’ll be fine, darlin’. She went after the dog, right into the goddamn storm. I went after her.”

“Only you?” He nods. I feel my lower lip tremble, so I try to stiffen it. And, with one last stroke down his neck, I climb right into his lap, my thighs straddling his on either side, my pelvis hovering over his. A cocky look starts to work its way onto his face and I can see he’s preparing to say something that definitely expresses his interest in such a position, but before he can, I wrap my arms around his shoulders, only pausing to shrug off my militial jacket into his lap. I pull myself tightly to him. 

It seems the action surprised him, as he goes silent for a moment other than a soft stutter in his breath, before one of his hands makes its way under my hair to my undercut while the other splays over my lower back, pressing me into his chest. His face buries into the side of my neck, and I cup the back of his head as he does so. I’ve hugged him a very scant few times over the years as we became closer, mostly when one of us really needed it, or when the lack of touch outside of our hands became too much. Always trying to be careful, so I wouldn’t be forced off of watching him. 

I rub in between his shoulders, working at the tension there, while at the same time lightly pressing my lips right above his ear. We stay like that for a few minutes, before he slowly pulls back, looking in my eyes. His are more green today, beautiful tealish green, with brown only being visible around the edges of his irises. I let my hand drift from his head to stroke his jaw as his moves from my hair to stroke my face. His eyes drop to my lips, then slowly wander back up. He’s asking for permission. I tilt my head, letting my lips open slightly, and I do the same motion with my eyes. He slowly leans in, till his lips are a hair from mine, keeping eye contact even with our eyes hooded.

And when I let mine slide close, his lips press against mine, sweetly, gently. His are a little chapped, and I imagine mine are too, from the damned cold. His hands cup my face, their warmth soaking into my still chilled skin and the calluses scraping in a way that sends a shiver through me. After a few moments, he pulls back, but only slightly, his lips still brushing mine. “Fuck, I was wondering what that’d be like.”

“So was I.” I sound as breathless as I feel, and without thinking about it, I press my lips back to his, pulling his face gently to mine. We share multiples of these softer kisses, always drawing back together near immediately after parting, before they start to deepen and last longer. His lips taste like the fruity pain reliever Siddiq has in his medicine cabinet, and God, they feel amazing against mine.

But, eventually, we do fully part, our breaths a little shaken and mixing between us. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes, one I remember vividly during our talks of everything happening, losing his control on everything, his wife. I give him a small smile, before hugging him again, pressing my cheek gently to his as to not irritate it. “Why, Ms. Grimes, I do think you are sweet on lil’ ol’ me.”

“Mmmmm, why, Negan, you reckon?” I reply with a sarcastic falsetto to his teasing, enjoying being able to feel his low laughter rumble into my chest. “And ‘lil’ nothing, you are about half a foot taller than me, mister.” I pull back, pursing my lips to the side as he gives me a big grin, but not his usual one; this one is more goofy, more playful. It makes my heart feel funny. 

“Shit, I guess I am a blind motherfucker after all, you been hittin’ on me this entire time?” he teases, his tongue tip messing with his lower lip. I try hard not to focus on it and instead roll my eyes as I climb off of him. He goes to protest, his hands lingering on my arms, then slide down to my hands when I’m on my feet. “Wait, where you goin’? You just got here.” 

“I am not going anywhere, but you need rest and no pressure on that knee, as it wouldn’t be propped up if it wasn’t needing rest.” I grab a chair and haul it to right beside his bedside, then take one of his hands. “I am your guard, after all. Gotta keep you safe.” I wink at him, unconsciously drawing my lip between my teeth.

“Uh huh. And that’s why you needed to climb into my lap, make my dick hard enough to hammer in a fuckin’ nail, and then have the balls to be all soft ‘n sweet.” He shakes his head in fake exasperation, trying to not show how his lips are fighting to smile. “Goddamn, I ain’t got a guard, I got a master fuckin’ torturer with my name at the top of her ‘make it as painful as you fuckin’ can, maybe even nostril slitting if necessary’ list. My luck is both higher than a stoner with a weed forest and shittier than a stall with fifteen horses.” 

All I can do is laugh so hard I wheeze at his commentary. I had not been expecting his little speech, and God, I laugh so hard my lungs and chest ache. From what I can see through the tears in my eyes and my squinting, he’s more than happy at my reaction as over the buzz in my ears I can hear a laugh from him too. “Negan- I- what-” 

“Yeah, got your master-fucking-plan down, didn’t I? Figured you all out.” 

“Oh yeah, buddy, you got it,” I let out a few remaining guffaws, raising my hands in the air. “Got me all figured out, I admit to my crimes.”

“You are a lucky ass that I got room in my cell for someone else,” he says with a sigh and a shake of his head.

“Oh? Where am I sleeping in there? Your cot isn’t big enough for two.” He gives me a wicked grin.

“I make a mean fuckin’ mattress in every  sense, if you catch my meanin’, darlin’.” 

“Negan!”  

[princess-of-france]

I’m interested in your take on Angelo & Isabella w/ personality parallels (also just your opinion on Angelo especially tbh because I feel like I under-analyzed him when I read the play bc I was just. Well, found him scary :P) because obviously w/ your production you’re pretty deep in and I don’t see a lot of MFM content

Oof, this is a loaded question.

I’m happy to answer it, but I think I should make a disclaimer that—as you point out—my opinions of Angelo are skewed by my experiences as an actor inside a specific production. I’m also not an English scholar; I’m a theater artist. My lit crit skills are dodgy at best (as @lizbennett2013 knows all too well), and I don’t believe there is a single way to interpret any character in drama, especially when you’re dealing with heightened text. All I can do is give my honest appraisal of Angelo as I have encountered him dramaturgically through cutting our script, rehearsing Isabella, and seeing his iterations in other productions. 

So! Angelo and Isabella. Two sides of the same coin. I really think they are.

Let’s get the obvious stuff out of the way first: Angelo is scary. He just is. His sexually motivated exploitation of authority continues to be one of the most transcendent aspects of this ever-timely play. However you stage it, however you trim the text, whatever charismatic actor you slot into the role, Angelo is a capital-T-Terror and there’s no getting around it. Coercive, manipulative, hypocritical, ruthless, misogynistic, fraudulent, and cruel, he basically spends the entirety of MEASURE FOR MEASURE committing crimes and then soliloquizing about how painful it all is for his bargain-price conscience. You’ll never hear me say he doesn’t deserve his reputation as one of the most reprehensible tyrants in all of Shakespeare. 

But.

Of the three defining qualities I see in Angelo—ideological dogmatism, rhetorical prowess, and professional pride—there’s not one of them that is not blisteringly prominent in his antagonist, Isabella. Despite the fact that she’s a Catholic republican (“Butt out of people’s lives, Big Government; God will judge us when we die!”) and he’s a Puritan[ical] bureaucrat (“My job is to regulate people’s lives because purgatory is a myth!”), they have far more in common, cognitively, than not. Understand: I’m not saying that Angelo is not a piece of shit for how he behaves throughout course of the play. Nor am I implying that Isabella is somehow culpable for his masturbatory exercise of power over her. My girl has flaws, but she’s unquestionably the hero of M4M. What I’m trying to articulate is that Angelo and Isabella were born with the same psychological toolkit, which they elect to apply towards radically different purposes. (Think Parseltongue and “It is our choices that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities…”) This shared intellectual arsenal is what makes their pair of scenes in Act Two so iconic. We basically get to watch them play out Newton’s Third Law in real time: for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction… As far as rhetoric goes, neither Isabella nor Angelo can overwhelm the other. For every argument she makes in favor of mercy, he punctures it with legalism. For every judicial explication he provides, she dissolves it with morality. One minute, we’re nodding our heads along with Angelo as he explains why Christian values should have no place in a court of law; the next, we’re on our feet cheering for Isabella to convince him to factor human integrity into his role as a public servant. I can’t read 2.2 as anything other than the blueprint for every screenplay Aaron Sorkin ever wrote. It is the ultimate courtroom drama.

Just look at the play’s opening act. Angelo’s hasty promotion aside, both he and Isabella begin the story at the lowest rung of their respective vocational ladders: he’s a would-be Chief Justice, she’s a would-be Prioress. Deputy/nun. Politics/religion. Different spheres/same ambition. And, in like true zealots, both Angelo and Isabella express their commitment to their new duties in terms of self-flagellation:

“You may not so extenuate his offenseFor I have had such faults, but rather tell me,When I that censure him do so offend,Let mine own judgment pattern out my deathAnd nothing come in partial.”        (Angelo, II.i.29-33)

“And have you nuns no farther privileges?[…] I speak not as desiring more,But rather wishing a more strict restraintUpon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare.”        (Isabella, I.iv.1, 3-5)

It’s also worth mentioning that our first introduction to these characters features them scurrying along in the wake of an authority figure they respect. 

Act 1, Scene 1: Angelo wants to know the extent to which he can wield his law degree at the pleasure of the Duke of Vienna (the Duke himself!). 

Act 1, Scene 4: Isabella wants to know the extent to which she can practice self-denial for the glory of God and the approval of Mother Superior. 

They are both drawn to gravitas, to figures who represent order and authority. They are also drawn to discipline. He’s a non-drinking, non-smoking Precision. She’s a gluttony-abhorring Bride of Christ. Let the rest of the world eat cake. They will be eating their sins and purifying their souls, thank you very much.

At the risk of descending into the flaming pits of cliché, I’ll also touch on those three qualities I mentioned earlier, because who says the TPE (Three Paragraph Essay) is dead? 

First up: ideological dogmatism.

[Side note: I may be a crappy historian, but I do recognize there’s a historical paradigm at play in this text. Vienna needs to be a Catholic city and Angelo’s Protestantism needs to be allusive because Shakespeare presumably valued all his limbs and didn’t relish the idea of rotting in a Cheapside prison. If he’d lived in a “free press” kind of sociocultural context, he might have endowed his religious figures with a bit more Opinion. I digress.]

In the M4M-centered episode of Isaac Butler’s phenomenal podcast, “Lend Me Your Ears,” he interviews JohnPaul Spiro (Assistant Director of the School of Liberal Arts, Villanova University), who does a wonderfully unfussy job of summing up the Angelo/Isabella ideology parallel:

“In much the same way as our era is filled with political zealots—as well as, to a certain degree, religious zealots—what you’ll find when you look closer is there’s a small number of very loud people who are dominating the discourse. And a lot of people are in the middle and would rather not have to take sides. Claudio, he seems to be monogamous, he seems to want to just live a very simple life, he’s not really concerned with theological things. And when pressed on theological things, his point is: ‘I don’t really know. No one really knows what happen when you die, so I’m scared.’”

Because religious extremism lies at the heart of the rhetorical warfare between Angelo and Isabella, I think there’s a misconception that M4M is a Play About Religion. But the ONLY characters who canonically go to the mat about the finer points of theology are…wait for it…Angelo and Isabella. This is an early modern text brimming with religious figures (Sister Francisca, Friar Thomas, Friar Peter, even the phony Friar Lodowick), but not a single one of them gets on the pulpit about ANYTHING in the course of the entire play. Sister Francisca’s role consists of bemusedly listening to her youthful novitiate describe her desire for stricter prohibitions at the cloister. Friar Thomas, a sycophantic priest whose parish coffers are probably lined with Vincentio’s gold, spends his one onstage scene nodding his head sympathetically as the Duke over-explains why he is disguising himself as a monk. Friar Peter, the poor Jesuit roped into delivering the Duke’s messages, forgoes moralizing and instead uses his limited dialogue to try to help two disenfranchised women receive justice for their abuse. And Friar Lodowick, of course, is nothing but an alias for a cowardly sociopath who wants to run the world without being held accountable for his mistakes. Nothing evangelical about any of that.

But Angelo and Isabella? They can’t shut up about religion. 

Isabella wants Angelo to temper his punitive Weltanschauung with morality, ideology, Platonic ideals, metaphysics…in short, all of the intangibles that can’t be used as evidence in a court of law. 

“Why, all the souls that were were forfeit onceAnd He that might the vantage best have tookFound out the remedy. How would you be,If He, which is the top of judgment, shouldBut judge you as you are? O, think on thatAnd mercy then will breathe within your lips,Like man new made.”        (Isabella, II.ii.97-103)

Angelo, in turn, wants Isabella to recognize the futility of Catholicism as a proper tool for creating heaven on earth because Catholicism permits withdrawal from the world and the abdication of earthly responsibility (cf: nunnery). Instead, he argues, what God actually needs is for people to actively toil in their communities to criminalize, punish, and eradicate sin. 

“I show [pity] most of all when I show justice,For then I pity those I do not know,Which a dismissed offense would after gall,And do him right that—answering one foul wrong—Lives not to act another.”        (Angelo, II.ii.128-132)

They take up the two sides of a theological debate that predates Christianity: ethics vs. justice. And that conflict is itself inextricably tied to the timeless political debate of non-intervention vs. regulation. And the thing is: even when Angelo and Isabella realize the irreconcilability of their respective schools of thought, they KEEP ARGUING ABOUT IT because extremism is just that: extreme. Angelo and Isabella may be major players in M4M, but they represent the radical minority of their world. They are the “small group of very loud people” and literally everyone is a moderate next to them. Ideology, not desire, is the bedrock of their personhood. When confronted with a person of an uncompromisingly polar viewpoint, they behave as if it might be possible to change the viewpoint of that person because the alternative is to admit defeat. To tragic effect, they hold their ideals more sacred than human life. For Angelo, that ideal is the law (i.e. integrity of action). For Isabella, it’s chastity (i.e. integrity of the soul). They are dogmatic in their beliefs, inflexible in their opinions, and inalienably convinced of their own “rightness.” They are austere, incisive, independent, articulate, and sharp. They are disgusted by the depravity of the world around them and determined to transcend it. What differentiates them is the content of their convictions, but they rate the value of that conviction equally.

So, yes, M4M is a play acutely interested in how religion shapes the law and human behavior. But I would argue that it is really only about one thing: power.

Which brings me to rhetoric.

Angelo and Isabella are lawyers. Both of them. High-powered, quick-thinking, weakness-sniffing, self-righteous litigators. Sure, Isabella may not have the paperwork to prove it; she was conceived by an Englishman in the early 17th century. But much in the same way that it’s obvious to everyone with eyes that would-be nun Maria [von Trapp] is a born music teacher from the first scene of The Sound of Music, so is it evident from Isabella’s first moments onstage that she is a born lawyer. She was, quite simply, born to argue.

Consider her first scene onstage: in the nunnery, with Lucio and Francisca. Unlike the audience, Isabella doesn’t have empirical evidence of Lucio’s amorality and notorious womanizing. She doesn’t need it. She can smell it on him. And in six short lines, she wipes the mosaic-laced marble floor of the cathedral with his ass:

LUCIOCan you so stead meAs bring me to the sight of Isabella,A novice of this place and the fair sisterTo her unhappy brother, Claudio?

ISABELLAWhy her “unhappy brother”? Let me ask,The rather for I now must make you knowI am that Isabella, and his sister.

LUCIOGentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you.Not to be weary with you, he’s in prison.

ISABELLAWoe me, for what?

LUCIOFor that which, if myself might be his judge,He should receive his punishment in thanks:He hath got his friend with child.

ISABELLASir, make me not your story.

LUCIO‘Tis true.I would not, though ‘tis my familiar sinWith maids to seem the lapwing and to jest,Tongue far from heart, play with all virgins so.I hold you as a thing enskied and sainted,By your renouncement an immortal spiritAnd to be talked with in sincerityAs with a saint.

ISABELLAYou do blaspheme the good in mocking me.

        (I.iv.18-40)

I’m not going to venture down the English professor’s rabbit hole of rhetorical devices and syntactical analysis—partly because there are thousands of scholars who have already done it better than I ever could (check out Claire McEachern and Julie Felise Dubiner!) and partly because I’ve been blathering for too long in general. But sufficed to say that three hallmarks of a good lawyer are as follows: 

The ability to seize and repurpose the language of one’s opponent (“Why her ‘unhappy brother?’”)

The ability to spot and sidestep landmines (“Sir, make me not your story.”)

The ability to redirect conversation (“You do blaspheme.”)

By that metric alone, Isabella’s performance here is worthy of the Harvard Law Review. 

And then, of course, two scenes later, she meets her match. 

A dear friend of mine, who is a first-year at Georgetown Law and basically the smartest person I’ve ever met, once told me: “The best and worst thing that can happen to a good lawyer is to meet another good lawyer with different ideas.” I do apologize for invoking Sorkin twice in one essay, but honestly: “The President likes smart people who disagree with him” (Leo, The West Wing, 2x05). It is a truth universally acknowledged that however infuriating it is for a highly intelligent person to debate with an equally intelligent person who disagrees with everything they stand for, it can also be unbelievably stimulating and monumentally entertaining to watch. (Hello, 50 million seasons of Law & Order.)

I’m now two weeks deep into rehearsals for M4M and I still get gobsmacked, daily, by the sheer majesty of Angelo’s and Isabella’s rhetoric. Theirs goes so far beyond the mental agility of anyone else in this play, or even—dare I say it—in Shakespeare’s canon. They are beyond intelligent. They are freaky genius kids with the kind of sanctimonious stubbornness that would be obnoxious if it weren’t so damn compelling. Between the two of them, between their two infamous scenes, they pull out every rhetorical trick in the book and play approximately seventeen unique rounds of intellectual checkers. (I say checkers because chess is too slow for them. If you want chilly brinksmanship, check out the Roman plays. Angelo and Isabella have agendas and professional pride on the line. Time is of the essence.)

ISABELLAI do think that you might pardon him,And neither heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.

ANGELOI will not do it.

ISABELLABut can you, if you would?

ANGELOLook, what I cannot, that I will not do.

ISABELLABut might you do it, and do the world no wrongIf so your heart were touched with that remorseAs mine is to him?

ANGELOHe’s sentenced. ‘Tis too late.

ISABELLA“Too late”? Why, no. I, that do speak a word,Might call it back again.

        (II.ii.67-78 [italics are mine])

Things get even more complicated when they start moving into those same theoretical marshes I described earlier:

“If he had been as you, and you as he,You would have slipped like him, but he like youWould not have been so stern.”        (Isabella, II.ii.84-86)

“The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.Those many had not dared to do that evilIf the first that did th’ edict infringeHad answered for his deed. Now ‘tis awake…”        (Angelo, II.ii.117-120)

ENOUGH WITH THE METAPHORS ALREADY. CLAUDIO IS ON DEATH ROW.

And even when they finally, finally get to the point, they remain at an impasse:

ISABELLAYet show some pity.

ANGELOI show it most when I show justice.

        (II.ii.127-128)

Which causes Isabella essentially to lose all sense of self-awareness and control because goddam it, never once in her entire life has she met a person she couldn’t out-argue, who the fuck does this deputy think he is, this was supposed to be a simple mission and she’s been standing in this room for ten minutes and he’s still siTTING THERE SMILING AT HER WHAT THE F—

“So you must be the first that gives this sentence,And he that suffers. O, it is excellentTo have a giant’s strength, but it is tyrannousTo use it like a giant[…]Could great men thunderAs Jove himself does, Jove would never be quiet,For every pelting, petty officerWould use his heaven for thunder,Nothing but thunder. Merciful heaven,Thou rather with thy sharp and sulfurous boltSplits the un-wedgeable and gnarlèd oakThan the soft myrtle. But man, proud man,Dressed in a little brief authority,Most ignorant of what he’s most assured,His glassy essence like an angry apePlays such fantastic tricks before high heavenAs makes the angels weep, who with our spleensWould all themselves laugh mortal.”        (Isabella, II.ii.134-152)

Which causes ANGELO to lose all self-awareness and control because goddam it, never once in his entire life has he met a person he couldn’t out-argue, who the fuck does this nun think she is, this was supposed to be a simple smackdown and she’s been standing in this room for ten minutes and he’s still waiting for her to admit defeat and oh God oh no oh no oh no why can’t he look away from her face, what the fuck is happening what the F—

ANGELOWHY DO YOU PUT THESE SAYINGS UPON ME?

ISABELLABecause authority, though it err like others,Hath yet a kind of medicine in itselfThat skins the vice o’ th’ top. Go to your bosom,Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth knowThat’s like my brother’s fault. If it confessA natural guiltiness such as is his,Let it not sound a thought upon your tongueAgainst my brother’s life.

ANGELO, asideShe speaks and ‘tis such senseThat my sense breeds with it.

        (II.ii.163-173)

Finally, Angelo gets her to leave and faces the music. My tremendous co-actor, Jude Van der Voorde, always slays this soliloquy.

“What’s this, what’s this? Is this her fault or mine?The tempter or the tempted, who sins most, ha?Not she; nor doth she tempt, but it is IThat, lying by the violet in the sun,Do as the carrion does, not as the flower,Corrupt with virtuous season.”        (Angelo, II.iv.199-204)

[Non sequitur: Jude is the kind of actor actors dream of acting with. He’s always got at least one trick up his sleeve, so my Isabella is constantly second-guessing herself around him. And he does the “sleazy wunderkind act” with a panache rivaling BJ Novak’s in Season 4 of The Office. He’s also one of the funniest people I’ve ever met. Kids, don’t be Method. Make friends with your fellow actors. Leave the emotions onstage and go get a midnight pizza. You will be so much happier.]

With regards to the M4M narrative, we all know what happens next, although it takes an agonizing 175 lines of text in 2.4 before Shakespeare levels off and gives us the canonical threat:

“Redeem thy brotherBy yielding up thy body to my will,Or else he must not only die the death,But thy unkindness shall his death draw outTo lingering sufferance. Answer me tomorrowOr by the affection that now guides me mostI’ll prove a tyrant to him. As for you:Say what you can, my false o’erweighs your true.”        (Angelo, II.iv.177-184)

What precedes this is the kind of tension-groaning, hair-splitting, goosebump-raising rhetorical tarantella that television writers today spend their entire careers trying to emulate. Isabella plays the fool for as long as she possibly can…

ANGELONay, but hear me.Your sense pursues not mine. Either you are ignorantOr seem so, crafty, and that’s not good.

ISABELLALet me be ignorant, and in nothing goodBut graciously to know I am no better.

        (II.iv.79-83)

…but eventually Angelo forces her hand and she has to deflect his onslaught with the sleek diplomacy of a kidnapping victim.

ISABELLABetter it were a brother died at onceThan that a sister, by redeeming him,Should die forever.

ANGELOWere not you then as cruel as the sentenceThat you have slandered so?

ISABELLAIgnomy in ransom and free pardonAre of two houses. Lawful mercyIs nothing kin to foul redemption.

ANGELOYou seemed of late to make the law a tyrant,And rather proved the sliding of your brotherA merriment than a vice.

ISABELLAO, pardon me, my lord. It oft falls out,To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean.I something do excuse the thing I hateFor his advantage that I dearly love.

        (II.iv.114-128)

Remember when I said that Angelo and Isabella are alike in that they are inalienably convinced of their own “rightness”? That still holds true. But now Angelo, without warning, has moved beyond the conceits of debate and is taking Isabella’s rhetorical arguments from 2.2 at literal face value in order to trip her up. He’s brought ideology crashing down to earth and introduced their physical relationship into the conversation…again, without warning and very much without her consent. And she has to figure out a way to back-peddle on her words without yielding defeat of the argument. It is nigh impossible. And I bring it up because guess who gets trapped in the exact same situation three short acts later?

LUCIOCome, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir! Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal, you must be hooded, must you? Show your knave’s visage, with a pox to you! Show your sheep-biting face, and be hanged an hour! Will ‘t not off?

        (LUCIO pulls off the friar’s hood and reveals the DUKE.)

DUKEThou art the first knave that e’er made’st a duke.—First, Provost, let me bail these gentle three.—Sneak not away, sir, for the friar and youMust have a word anon.—Lay hold on him.

LUCIOThis may prove worse than hanging.

DUKEWhat you have spoke I pardon. Sit you down.We’ll borrow place of him.       (to Angelo)Sir, by your leave.Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudenceThat yet can do thee office? If thou hast,Rely upon it till my tale be heardAnd hold no longer out.

ANGELOO my dread lord,I should be guiltier than my guiltinessTo think I can be undiscernible,When I perceive your Grace, like power divine,Hath looked upon my passes.         (V.i.395-421)

Game, set, match.

As for ego… Do I really need to talk about professional pride? I don’t think so. It’s Angelo and Isabella. Pride leaks out of every virtually every line they speak in this play. Pride in their conviction, pride in their moral righteousness, pride in their intellect, pride in their ability to judge the world with clarity (or whatever). Angelo actually admits it out loud to us in perhaps his most famous soliloquy, because the little fucker has a lot more Catholic guilt about lusting after a novitiate nun than his Protestant heart would like to admit:

“The state whereon I studiedIs, like a good thing being often read,Grown sere and tedious. Yea, my gravity,Wherein—let no man hear me—I take pride,Could I with boot change for an idle plumeWhich the air beats for vain.”        (Angelo, II.iv.7-15)

And even though Isabella could easily be the poster child for Christian piety, she’s so damn proud of her own humility that she occasionally threatens to void it altogether. 

ANGELOWhat would you do?

ISABELLAAs much for my poor brother as myself.That is, were I under the terms of death,Th’ impression of keen whips I’d wear as rubiesAnd strip myself to death as to a bedThat longing have been sick for, ere I’d yieldMy body up to shame.

        (II.iv.107-111)

Look at me, Angelo. Look at this body. It’s mine. Mine and God’s. I see what you’re doing, I know where you’re trying to go. And it is never. going. to happen.

Two weeks into rehearsal and I’m still not sure I’m convincing in my delivery of these lines. I’ve watched every filmed production of M4M I can get my hands on, and it’s no help. I just don’t know what to make of this. Scholars disagree virulently about these lines, but also…scholars aren’t actors, you know? I find myself questioning everything every time I get to this passage. Is Isabella actually a virgin? I’m not sure. Chastity and virginity aren’t actually the same thing and Isabella, for all her idealism, is more worldly than many of her ingenue brethren. One thing is for sure: she’s flushed with self-righteousness when she speaks these words. Angelo may be a haughty son of a bitch, but so is she, so is she, so is she.

Ugh, these characters. I love them so much. I hate Angelo, I do. I also love him. And God help me I love Isabella. They’re dumpster fires of human conviction and I’m so grateful to Shakespeare for giving us their story and for understanding four hundred fucking years ago, that this, THIS is the pinnacle of hell in the female experience: “Who would believe thee, Isabel?”

#MeToo

Thank you, Will. Thank you.

I feel like I should apologize for the length of this reply, but I’ve had so much freaking fun that I also don’t feel apologetic. Thank you for this amazing question! Hope you’re doing well! xx Claire

Tagging @malvoliowithin @measureformeasure @harry-leroy @suits-of-woe

[andrea-lyn]

malex prompt: they run into one of Michaels former foster parents. one of the not-nice ones.

“Babe,” Michael mumbles, head bent down to scratch items off their shopping list, “can you grab some tortillas? I’m pretty sure we’re out and I wanted to make some enchiladas this week.”There’s no response from Alex.Michael frowns, glancing up from where he’s been gnawing on the pen, seeing where Alex’s attention has fixed. It’s like someone’s hit a light switch. Instantly, his mood drops when he sees the O’Reilly’s down the aisle. Even though it’s been over fifteen years since he’d been under their religious fanatic roof, they’ve barely changed.That crucifix still rests large and looming against a string on her neck. He still looks like it would kill him to smile. “Hey,” Michael speaks up, roughly, knowing that this won’t end well. They shouldn’t have come to this side of town to grocery shop, but Michael had insisted since they had the brands he liked. He hadn’t counted on the fact that it was also the shop closest to their ranch. After he had told Alex everything about his past, Alex had quickly gone to work creating the database of information on Michael’s past. “Names,” had been his curt demand at the time. It’s why there are folders in a filing cabinet in their study of all of Michael’s shitty foster parents. The ones in Albuquerque and Santa Fe, they run little risk of running into, but there’s always been a chance that they’d run into the O’Reilly family. Michael feels sick, the way he always had when he’d get home and find a priest or a nun sitting on the couch, waiting for him so they could talk about how he was possessed by the devil and they had to cleanse him of his sins. “Alex,” Michael pleads, quietly. “Let’s get out of here.”“No,” Alex replies firmly. Michael’s reaching for him in order to try and get him to stop whatever he’s planning to do. Normally, Michael is all about a fight, but brawling with his old, shitty foster parents in a grocery store is the kind of thing that gets you arrested and Michael really doesn’t want to deal with that today.Unfortunately, Alex has other priorities.“Babe, please...”It’s no use.Alex slides out of Michael’s grip, leaving the grocery cart with him and heading after them to follow them down the aisles, stalking behind them like a predator deciding when to make his move. Michael, full of fear that’s been beat into him, stays even further away. He might be a grown man and he might have worse wounds, but that doesn’t mean he wants to give these two a chance to reopen any of the old ones.“Hey!” he hears Alex snap. “Mr. and Mrs. O’Reilly.”“Yes, dear?” she replies, sounding sweet as apple pie. She’d always been sweet, right up until the door closed and she got so disappointed about the fact that she had to punish him for the demons living inside of him, which gave him powers at night and sinful lustful feelings for other boys during the day.From where Michael has hidden, he can lean forward and see what’s happening while hiding behind a giant display of condiments. He’s safe, thanks to the ketchup, to see the bitter smile Alex gives, the one where he looks like he’s about to spit acid.“I wanted to come and talk to you,” Alex says. “You fostered a child, about fifteen years ago,” he goes on.“We fostered many children,” Mr. O’Reilly replies, flat and without affect.“I kind of hope that you didn’t foster them the way you did Michael,” Alex keeps going. Michael can see the way they rear back, just slightly, and he knows that it hadn’t been all the kids who got the treatment he did. Most of the other kids knew how to learn their lesson and shut up and behave.Michael had always been too stubborn for that. “You should be ashamed of yourselves,” Alex is hissing, trying to keep his voice down like he gives a shit about decorum. Michael keeps holding himself back from joining in, because he’s not entirely sure what he’ll do it he gets up close and personal with these particular demons from his childhood.He thinks he might scream or shout, but he also thinks it’s every bit as likely that he’d break down, so it’s for the best that he stays out of the way. Still, as he holds onto the shelf and listens to Alex, he has to keep himself from getting involved.“He was a kid!” Alex snaps. “An innocent child and you thought he had a demon in him. You should have helped him, not hurt him like that. When I have kids, I pray that I’m nothing like you, that I’ll give them unconditional love, no matter if they’re different.”Wait.When?When he has kids?Michael finds himself blinking in shock, not sure that he thought they were at the point in their relationship where trips to group homes were on the weekend plans, but apparently Alex has been getting ahead of him. He can see the O’Reillys’ blathering and trying to explain, but Alex is clearly done with them.“You’re only lucky that I don’t have the evidence to turn you in,” is his icy reply. He leans over and grabs a can of tuna in his palm, giving them both a careful look, like he’s appraising him.“I hope you aren’t repeating old tricks. I’d hate to find something,” he says in parting, and walks confidently away from them, almost bumping right into Michael when he rounds the corner, blinking at him with surprise to find him there. “Michael, shit, I almost ran you over. Are you okay? Did you hear that?”He should thank Alex for being a sexy badass, he should tell him that they need to get out of there, and he should go pick up some more booze for when he inevitably tries to drink this whole experience away. Instead, he asks: “When you have kids?”Alex blushes, slightly, and shrugs as he puts the tuna in the cart. “I know we haven’t exactly talked about it, but I always figured that one day, you and I would be foster parents. If anyone knows what those kids actually deserve in a home when it comes to love and affection, it’s us, right?”He’s absolutely not wrong. It’s just not something that Michael had ever considered.Michael slides his palm over Alex’s neck and drifts forward until they’re swaying in the grocery store, their foreheads pressed together. Every few seconds, Michael leans in for a kiss, not caring about any disgusted snorts or scoffs he hears from Roswell’s finest around them. The only person in the world that matters -- the bravest, the strongest, the kindest -- is in his arms. “Thank you,” he murmurs, because he’s been waiting to say that since Alex first stormed over to defend Michael. “Thank you for having hope in our future, for wanting to defend my past.”“You should just be glad it wasn’t the meth heads,” Alex mumbles into the next kiss, eyes half-shut and his lips warm, “because them? I do have evidence against and I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get one set of your shitty foster parents behind bars where they belong.”“Well,” Michael quips. “We could always take a road trip.”The laugh he earns from Alex is sweet and warm and when they check out, the O’Reillys are long gone. Even if they were still there, it wouldn’t have mattered, because Alex would have made Michael feel safe and secure. He’s not thirteen anymore and they can’t control him. They won’t ever get to control him like that again. He’s made sure of that.“Come on.” Michael encourages, hefting up the bags. “Let’s get the grill going and you can tell me all about these foster kids you’ve been thinking about.”Maybe that’s the lesson in all of us. Maybe it’s not about Michael’s past at all or reliving those awful days, but taking them and learning how to make the lives of other kids better in the future. With Alex at his side? There’s no doubt they’ll be able to do it.