#but joshua is disconcerting! Always has been!

[randomszzz]

Something something, Joshua rewards his proxies for displaying the virtues he himself does not (will not? can not?)

Joshua in a new day: No telling what will happen to Shibuya.  That’s their problem, not mine.  Neo: I’m so grateful Rindo shouldered the responsibility to save Shibuya AND Neku I’m gonna yeet Shoka into the RG.

Neku in twewy: unable to shoot his partner Joshua: BANG!

[fallinnflower]

will you be there?

hoshi x reader (apocalypse!au, established relationship, drama, fluff)

wc: 4.9k

a/n: this was originally written for my best friend’s birthday a few years back, and she’s given me permission to post it here while i’m in a bit of a slump with new writing. it has been edited/polished before posting!

You scarcely remember how it all started, where the end of the world began. The road’s beginning seems so far from you now, and you might think you had dreamed the world before were it not for the hand that holds yours as you scope out the farmhouse nestled in the valley’s swell. 

The image is like a painting, you think, except that the silence enveloping you both leaves you rattled rather than at ease. The end of the world does that, you think, as Soonyoung squeezes your hand gently, shouldering his way carefully into the house. Your free hand rests habitually on the blade tucked against your hip (really just a glorified kitchen knife, but better than nothing), and the hardwood floors exhale dust as you step silently across them. 

For the first time in hours (probably, but what is time when the sun has been hazed out by clouds in this part of the country for the past several days as you’ve wandered?) the two of you cease touching, sparing glances before you move to comb through the house. His eyes sparkle the way you recall the night sky, and you allow that thought to steel your resolve as you pick through the kitchen, the cupboards creaking as you open them. 

In one, you find an assortment of cans, and choose to grab two just in case you find a reason not to stay in this place any longer. 

You find no signs of danger or disturbance within the house — no other raiders have come through, and the house must have been left in a hurry. It still looks lived-in, and that is the disconcerting part; a breathing relic. In the dining room there is a fireplace, and on the mantle are color photographs behind unmarred glass, a tablecloth still draped over the four-seater table. The chairs are pushed in; beside the mantle, on a hook, hangs a dog’s leash and a set of car keys. 

Vehicles stopped working an eternity ago, but you can vividly remember your first date with Soonyoung, when he was too nervous to stand close to you on the bus until it became overcrowded and rattled on the road, and you could feel his heart beating quicker and quicker—

You can’t be sure if it is the dust or something else choking you up, and so you move back towards the front door. 

Soonyoung deems the other half of the house clear, and mentions that he saw a well out in the yard. If there’s water, he mentions, you might both be able to manage some sort of bath. You tell him about the food and the fireplace, and he smiles,

“Dinner and a bath, then.” Even with the dust streaking his face, he’s still the most stunning boy you’ve ever seen. 

His fingertips graze your cheek, and you smile in return. 

There are two battery-powered flashlights in the house, one in the kitchen and one in the master bedroom. While most of the linens have been eaten through by moths, the winter supply had been safe in a trunk with mothballs, and the towels you both deem suitable to your needs. You take trips to the well to fill the bottles you carry in your bags, and the large bowl you had found in the lowest cabinet. Soonyoung starts a fire while you measure out water for the bag of rice you had found in the cupboards. 

It’s the closest the two of you have gotten to domesticity since you fled your city apartment, determined to get off the grid like everyone else, stuffing a backpack with food and some clothes and running. You’re loath to admit it, but you find yourself looking back a lot. 

Soonyoung is heating the extra water over the fire, humming as he watches for steam. Beside him sits a bottle of shampoo and one of conditioner, along with a small, yellow bar of soap. A smile curls up the edges of his lips, and you thank whatever deity is watching over you for letting you keep him, if nothing else. 

You wash his hair first when the water is hot enough, gently combing through it. The water turns the color of dirt as you card your fingers through. He keeps his eyes shut, a contented noise rising from the base of his throat as you massage his scalp, and you can’t keep yourself from smiling. Even when the world has been turned upside down, your Soonyoung is just the same.

You rinse out his hair in the backyard with a bucket, and trim his bangs with scissors you found in a kitchen drawer. He shakes his head like a dog, and you break the stillness of the valley with your laughter. 

Soonyoung compliments your cooking; he grins his cheeky grin and you pinch one of his cheeks. He’s thinner now than he was, paler with the dust washed away, and you know he’s scraped some of the rice onto your plate when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You aren’t stupid, but you can’t bring yourself to argue; you’ve done the same for him.

You let your hand linger on his cheek, running your thumb along the line of his cheekbone, and he leans in to press his forehead to yours. 

“I love you,” he says, softly, like a secret, your noses brushing. You smile, close your eyes because you feel the tears stinging there,

“I love you, too.”

Even before you started dating Soonyoung, you knew he was going to be an important person in your life. Call it a hunch, call it Fate — the moment you met him, you just knew. 

It didn’t take you long to fall in love with him, though; after Joshua introduced the two of you, you realized he was just one of those rare, lovable people that drew others to him. He had a natural presence, as Jihoon had put it, and you were a moth to his flame. 

Your study sessions turned into study dates turned into just dates, and three months in he accidentally said he loved you before hanging up over FaceTime and turned the brightest red you’d ever seen him. 

(He still blushes when he says he loves you, tips of his ears turning pink, and it’s one of the things that makes you look to the past rather than the future.)

At night you lie down on the bed in the master bedroom after shaking out the sheets and checking the mattress. Soonyoung lets you use him as a pillow, and you follow his heartbeat like a lullaby as he runs his fingers through your freshly washed hair. 

You hear him humming and you think about the past, detached, catching fragments of your memories as they pass by—

Stars. Dancing. He always loved to dance, but not as much after Jihoon disappeared. Everyone went off the grid so quickly. You wonder who’s left; sometimes it feels like just the two of you, wandering alone. 

You wonder if anyone has made it to Joshua’s house, the safe one by the beach where rumor had it some people could be safe from the end of the world for just a bit longer. 

You wonder if Joshua is alive. 

Soonyoung continues humming. You curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt and bury your face in his shoulder. Some questions are better left unanswered.

The rumble of thunder startles you awake, the walls of the house faintly trembling with the force of it. It takes you a moment to adjust before you realize just what is happening.

Soonyoung stirs awake before you can even think to rouse him.

“It’s raining,” you whisper, and you watch as the excitement spreads slowly across his face, first widening his eyes and then curving them into crescents as he smiles. A flash of lightning makes his eyes spark, followed closely by another rumble of thunder that rattles the windows. Soonyoung laughs, the sound soft and yet so overpowering that you can’t help but follow suit. His fingers bunch up in your shirt and pull you closer by the small of your back, laughing breathlessly against the crown of your head.

“Soonyoung,” you say, voice just a little louder than before, and he hums in response. “Sing for me?” He hesitates, but in the end, he breathes out his reply slowly,

“Alright.” Soonyoung’s eyes slip closed as the storm picks up outside, the rain slanting towards the windows, and you tuck your head against his shoulder as he clears his throat. His voice is soft — it’s been so long since he’s sung for any reason — and he sings a song you remember Jihoon composing what seems like a lifetime ago. You watch his face carefully, the way his eyes stay closed as he concentrates, the way he shuts them tighter as his voice begins to tremble—

He gets through the first chorus before his voice finally warbles to a halt, his breaths shaking past his lips. You pull him closer to you, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair as he takes deep gulps of air. 

He doesn’t cry, because crying is for when people are dead, and neither of you wants to admit that Jihoon (or Seungcheol or Joshua or Minghao or—) is possibly gone. 

The rain drowns out the sound of his shaky breaths until it lulls you both to sleep. 

For the first time in a long, long time, you wake up before Soonyoung, your head resting on the pillow beside his. The sunlight washes over his face through the dusty windows, his lips slightly parted. They look a little chapped, you notice, and it sends a small pang through your heart; he’s still beautiful, but he’s not the same Soonyoung he used to be, the bangs you cut for him choppy and sticking out in all directions, his cheeks no longer as rounded out, dark bags under his eyes. You swallow thickly, reaching out to smooth down his hair, still thick and soft despite it all, standing out in stark contrast against the pale yellow sheets.

Soonyoung’s nose twitches slightly as the tips of his hair tickle his face, lips quirking up on one side into something almost like a smile in his sleep. It strikes you, then, hard and heavy in your chest, that you love Soonyoung more than anything in this godforsaken world; you’ve chosen to live with him, knowing full well you will more than likely die with him, too. 

You don’t regret it, even as the heaviness settles into your chest, feeling almost slightly like sobs trapped in your throat.

Soonyoung opens his eyes before you can dwell too long on that feeling, and they sparkle like stars even as he blinks tiredly at you. You smile, but it feels a little shaky, and run your hand through his hair again,

“Good morning.” A beat, and then, “I love you.” The drowsiness on his face is replaced by a smile so bright it brings tears to your eyes. His eyes still squint in the same 10:10 lines when his cheeks bunch up beneath them, and you feel the familiar warmth spreading through your chest. 

You used to talk about what your calling might have been in terms of occupation, but now you think it’s always been Soonyoung that was waiting for you at the end of the road. 

The two of you are slow to get up that morning, making the bed and packing away more clean linens in your packs. With the light spilling in through the grimy windows, it’s clear to see just how dilapidated the house is; both yours and Soonyoung’s footprints are visible in the dust and dirt coating the floors. You take a second sweep of the house, finding a few utensils in the kitchen that you had missed the night before, along with some dish soap. You can’t remember the last time you and Soonyoung had regular access to soap like this, but the family that had lived here seemed to have bought some things ahead of time. You imagine it’s because they lived so far from the nearest town.

There are gardening hats hanging by the back door, and you offer one to Soonyoung and take the other for yourself. When the two of you step out into the sunlight, packs filled and straw hats perched atop your heads, you can’t help but smile at the image of him beside you, his eyes squinted against the sky as he picks out the direction you need to go. 

“That way,” he says. “We should reach a city in a few hours.”

“Okay,” you reply, because there isn’t really anything else to be done but agree with him. After all, with the world gone the way it is, you’ve found yourself putting as much trust as possible in Soonyoung. (Which, in all honesty, isn’t so different from how it was before the apocalypse started.) The two of you walk through what used to be the house’s backyard, with remnants of an old garden still visible, stakes jutting up out of the ground. You can’t help but think this must once have been a nice place to live. 

The two of you follow the parallel lines of dirt and sand through the grass, walking on until you find the road.

Soonyoung was right, you reach the city within a matter of hours; the sun hasn’t even set by the time you find yourselves passing old stoplights more frequently. You watch them sway with the breeze, not a single bird perched on the wires, and wonder when things got this bad. The two of you stick close to one another, peering into windows and cautiously toeing open doors. 

“We should just stay here for the night,” he says, and you nod. A nagging part of you knows that Soonyoung isn’t quite ready to reach your destination, isn’t ready to see which of your friends have survived and which have been consumed by the desolate world which now consumes you. To be honest, you aren’t sure you’re ready, either, but how could anyone be?

The two of you find an apartment above a coffee shop just by chance, and while Soonyoung moves forward to scout the bathroom and bedroom you find yourself standing alone in the small living room, staring at the dusty couch with tears stinging your eyes. It’s really more of a glorified studio apartment than anything, and it reminds you so acutely and painfully of the apartment you had just recently gotten with Soonyoung, and how the two of you spent ages trying to find a cheap couch to fill your barren living room; dishes and silverware and bedding, all those stupid decorative pillows neither of you needed but bought for the hell of it and put in an apartment you’ll never get to really live in or likely see again—

Soonyoung returns to the living room to find you exactly where he left you, face in your hands and openly sobbing for the first time since you both started running for the coastline. He doesn’t say a word, just pulls you into his arms and presses his cheek against your hair, squeezing comfortingly at the fabric of your sweatshirt. You cling to Soonyoung as though he’s a life preserver, and you feel his shoulders tremble as he redoubles his grip on you.

“I love you,” he whispers, as though his voice will break if he raises it even slightly. 

You open your mouth to reply, but you only cry harder. He presses a kiss to your hair, and you both stand like that until you finally relax enough to scout through the rest of the rooms. Neither of you bring it up, but it’s all you can think about all through the evening, watching the shadows lengthen along the walls and floors. You wonder how many people have ransacked your apartment by now.

You fall asleep clinging to Soonyoung as tightly as possible. He’s the only thing you have left.

In the morning, you manage to make a little bit of coffee for the both of you with some old, yet somehow fresh, coffee grounds from downstairs. It’s bitter, and there are bits of coffee floating around in the cup, but Soonyoung smiles at you as if you’ve given him a valuable gift. 

He spreads a nice, glossy map across the coffee table in the living room, and shows you the route you’ll be taking to the coast using a red permanent marker. 

“I found this in one of the kitchen drawers,” he explains, looking up at you with a small smile still playing at the corners of his lips. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “We’ll be at Joshua’s tomorrow at the latest.” 

You smile in what you hope is a reassuring manner, reaching out to squeeze Soonyoung’s hand and hoping that’s enough; there’s nothing you can say to assuage his fears, and so the two of you merely get on with your morning in the usual way, and set out before the sun is too high above the horizon. 

The seasons are changing, and it makes you realize just how long you’ve been on this journey already. It had still been the heat of summer when you last saw other scavengers; the beginning of said season when you had last driven a car, or seen a working electric light. There’s no explanation for what happened (and it’s likely to stay that way, with no means of researching the event or spreading such information), though you aren’t sure you’d be comfortable with one. In some ways, the conspiracies that had been flung around in the early days of the outages are enough to leave you tired of searching for answers you won’t get.

The two of you hold hands on your walk, and you can feel the slight chill that lingers in his fingers, a sign of autumn approaching. The trees look deader the longer you walk on, and you wonder how you’ll manage to survive the winter (if you get that far).

You stop yourself there, picking the pace up slightly. If Soonyoung notices the sudden, slight change in your demeanor, he does nothing to stop it; merely matches pace with you, so you won’t be alone.

Neither of you say a word, as is typical, conserving your energy, but he squeezes your hand just a little to let you know he’s beside you still.

Before the grid shut off, Soonyoung had been a dance instructor and choreographer. He loved his job. He had a stage name he’d given himself when he was just barely a man: Hoshi. The Japanese word for star, like the ones that shine in his eyes when he smiles. You’ve associated the two ever since, Soonyoung and stars go hand in hand. Jihoon used to say he was born to be on the stage, he called it destiny. Written in the stars.

You’ve never agreed so wholeheartedly.

At your next stop, you find an actual apartment building and climb all the way to the first floor, kicking in doors and salvaging whatever you possibly can. Very few items of any use have been left behind, but you find a battery-powered CD player in one of the bedrooms and opt to take it with you, along with a small case of CDs you find. Soonyoung meets you in the hallways with an old tote bag full of cans and two bags of rice, then smiles somewhat mischievously at you. It reminds you of the Soonyoung before, flighty in the best way, when he says,

“Did you know this building has rooftop access?”

Lying atop one of the first blankets you had ever stolen, back when you still felt guilty every time you took a belonging from an abandoned home, dishes from dinner scraped clean beside you, you and Soonyoung watch the sky turn from violet to black. Old ballads play through the somewhat grainy speakers of your new possession, and you tuck yourself against your boyfriend’s side. Soonyoung’s hair smells like the sunlight that had been beating down on you both all through the day, and you can’t help but to run your fingers through it every now and again as you stare up at the stars that glitter so brightly in the sky.

Under other circumstances, the lack of light pollution would have seemed like a breath of fresh air, and yet…

So much has changed, and so quickly. Even Soonyoung, a constant at your side, is different than he was; you can’t remember the last time you saw him dancing, saw his cheeks rounded out with laughter he couldn’t contain. Calling him your boyfriend feels too impermanent now— he’s your life partner. Of this you’re certain.

The song changes to one you can remember hearing over the radio back when you and Soonyoung first started dating, and you take his hand and drag him up off the blanket.

“Let’s dance,” you say, and you swear you see the stars darken in contrast to the light that suddenly emanates from his eyes as he pulls you close to him. What you do couldn’t be considered dancing in any academic sense, merely swaying to the music and occasionally spinning until you fall into each other’s shoulders with laughter spilling softly past your lips, but it’s the lightest either of you have felt since the start of summer. You take his broad, unabashed smile as a sign that the times are changing for the better.

He smiles at you for a long moment before pulling you against his chest once more, his lips close to your ear. The two of you still way gently to the rhythm of the song, and you let your eyes slip closed, resting against his chest.

“I’m so happy I know you,” he says, softly, and you bite the inside of your lip to keep back the sudden tension you feel in your jaw, the tightening of your chest. Tomorrow, you will reach the coast, and everything will change again— though for better or worse, you can’t tell.

So you tighten your hold and squeeze your eyes shut, savoring the moment.

“Me, too.”

When the next morning dawns, you can see the differences in Soonyoung. He moves a bit more hesitantly, though you’re sure it’s far from a conscious decision, fueled by the anxiety that comes with the knowledge that later today, you’ll find out just how many of his friends you can confirm to be alive. It’s a daunting thought, that this whole journey is about to come to an end; there will be a place for you sleep, semi-permanently, and a house with other people to surround you—

You rest a hand on his shoulder when you notice him staring blankly into his bag, nearly finished packing, and when he looks at you his face bears a troubled smile. He takes your hand in his, presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, and returns to his packing with a soft, resigned sort of expression on his face. It would be so easy, you think, to tell him everything is going to be okay, but it feels too wrong to lie to him like that when neither of you know what’s going to happen even in the same minute. All you can do is take his hand as the two of you embark on the final leg of your journey, the sun beating down on your shoulders and the wind carrying just the slightest chill.

Soonyoung halts slightly when he catches the scent of salt in the air; when sand begins to appear in the crack of the roads you wander down; when you can no longer deny how close you’ve come to the end of the road. You don’t have a back-up plan if nobody is waiting for you, and your hunts for provisions have been conducted with the focus of getting you to the coast and won’t last you for too long beyond that, especially if you don’t have a plan. 

You pull him to a gentle stop when you realize you’re both overwhelmed by your own thoughts, and scrape together a lunch of dehydrated fruit. It had been a rare find, but you hope it will lift both of your spirits to have something sweet and familiar. It’s the best you can offer. Soonyoung seems to know what you’re trying to do, because he smiles when you press the food into his palm.

“We’ll figure it out,” you say, and he sighs when he’s finished chewing. He drops his head to rest it on your shoulder, and you reach up to brush his bangs aside.

“I know.” His voice sounds as though he’s carrying the weight of the world. You hope he’ll let you help shoulder the burden. It’s with that thought in mind that the two of you continue on your way, the map your only source of guidance. 

Neither of you have been to Joshua’s beach house since a spring break that seems like a very, very long time ago, and memorable mostly because Hansol did one too many jello shots and fell off the diving board into the pool trying to show off. On that trip, you had both been cuddled up in the backseat while Jihoon snapped at Mingyu after he made his third wrong turn. Together you have little more than hazy memories of the house’s location, and so you’re forced to rely on the directions Joshua had given you when this plan was first hatched and the maps you’ve picked up along the way. 

Many of the houses you pass along the way showcase lawns littered with broken, summer-themed decorations; flags and plastic lawn ornaments that no longer serve any practical use and have been tossed around by storms. The windows have been knocked out, leaving drapes that flutter past the broken glass and wave in surrender to those that pass.

You wonder if anyone has tried to raid Joshua’s house while he’s been in it, if any of the houses that seem slightly less damaged are also being lived in while people do their best to survive. It’s hard to imagine that you and Soonyoung may be in a similar position soon.

When you’re close enough to hear the sea, Soonyoung stops and trades his map for the small scrap of paper where you had hurriedly written down Joshua’s directions. In them he had given landmarks, though how many of those have survived it’s difficult to say; you and Soonyoung navigate the streets slowly, the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon. The only sounds are the scuffing of your shoes on the sandy asphalt and the lonely calls of gulls in the distance. 

A shock of pale blue to your right catches your eye, and you glance down at the paper in Soonyoung’s hand before tugging at his sleeve.

“That’s one of the landmarks, isn’t it? The big blue house over there?” You point first to the line on the note, then direct your boyfriend’s gaze to the house. He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“You’re a genius,” he coos, and there’s more energy in his steps now as you follow him. According to Joshua, if the two of you continue down the street that starts at the blue house, you’ll find his at the end, which is the only thing you really remember about that spring break; Joshua’s house at the end of a little culdesac, a tiny white number to cap the street off.

And you know the house the second you see it, even if the windows are sealed shut and there’s no music pouring out of the door as you approach; you recognize the car in the driveway, although now it’s covered in sand and grime; you recognize the mailbox with the little birds painted on it, the half-porch to the side, the gated backyard that you know houses a pool (or what remains of it).

Soonyoung stops at the end of the driveway, staring up into the house as though the windows were the eyes of a great beast, and you take his face in your hands and force him to look down at you. You’re sure his heart is pounding just as loud and fierce as yours, a heavy weight of anxiety taking root in your stomach at the same moment that hope bubbles up in your chest. Everything is about to change; you can feel it when the wind whistles through your hair.

“No matter what happens,” you say, pressing your forehead to his and watching as his eyes flutter shut, as he takes a deep and calming breath. “I’m with you.” He almost smiles as those words leave your lips, and you step away, reaching out for his hand.

It is Soonyoung who knocks, keeping you positioned just slightly behind him for fear of who may be inside, and for a long moment it seems as though nobody will answer. Your heart throbs in your chest, your hands shaking as you press your palm against the grip on your blade—

“Hoshi?” Someone on the other side of the door asks, softly. You see Soonyoung’s shoulders tremble.

“It’s me,” he says. The door slowly opens, and there stands Joshua, thinner and more disheveled than you remember him but still sporting that wonderful, cat-like smile. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees the both of you, and opens the door all the way, stepping aside,

“Welcome home.”

[yngysb]

Keep You Safe (Spin-off) // Seungcheol

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: Keep You Safe was a story about Seungcheol, a VIP whom you were tasked to protect as his secret bodyguard. But what if it was the other way around? You, the most normal out of normals, never thought that you would be of interest to anything or anyone so it was quite a shock to find out that you were being targeted and that you had a secret bodyguard.

A/N: WAIT SHOOT THERE WAS A MISTAKE. TAKE TWO!

🌻🌻

"No! Don't download the app!" your mom exclaimed, grabbing her phone from your hands.

"Mom. I told you countless times already—"

"They can gather information easily through these things," she said, cancelling the download. "I told you. We’re being watched. We have to be careful."

You closed your eyes and sighed. It's one of those moments again. Just when will your mom believe you that downloading a social media app is (to some extent) harmless?

You watched her in silence as she tapped on multiple things on her phone screen, the keypad sounds ‘tacking’ being the only thing you can both hear. She's been complaining about her Facebook account getting logged out again and again from her browser since yesterday not that it was the first time it ever happened.

"Mom," you laughed, "we're nobodies. No one's interested in us. We don't have anything that anyone would want to steal or whatever. We're not important people! Can't you just let me download the app for you? Then you won't have to worry about getting logged out all the time." But your mom merely pursed her lips and silently tapped on her phone, ignoring you.

"Fine," you said, resigning to your bag and preparing to leave. "See you after class." You were nearly out of the door when she called out again.

"Honey?"

You looked back. Your mom, phone and Facebook worries now forgotten, had eyes of unease reaching out to you as they always did whenever you left the house.

Her small frame projected the years she spent working inside and outside the home for as long as you can remember. Her eyes were sunken and seem to have seen so much of the world. Her hair was lined with gray and white though not fully. Her skin, though still beautiful, showed that she wasn't as young as she used to be. You can't help but wonder again: after all those years of hardship—working in an environment that demanded her time and health, going through loss and through life without a partner—just how much strength did she had in her to raise you, her far-from-perfect child, and care for you alone to this day?

You couldn't help but smile in admiration towards the hero of your life in front of you, forgetting the worries that she has been trying to make clear time and time again. "Yeah?"

She returned your smile softly but not without the same small pool of unease that formed every time she gave you those eyes. "Be safe."

🌻

"Morning sunshine!" A familiar voice called out from the jungle of a hall you were in and you turned to see your best friend weaving his way through the students behind you.

It was Monday morning. Somehow, the college board of directors thought it would be nice to have the most delightful day of the week packed with classes. No wonder your best friend took some time to catch up to you.

"Hey, Josh."

Joshua, now walking right next to you, peeked to take a look at your face. "Huh. The sun has a cloud in front of her today. You okay?"

"Well, they did say it's going to rain today," you said, avoiding the rushing students coming your way. "I'm...fine."

"Is it that thing again?"

You shrugged. "Mom...she's at it again with the whole security thing and being watched by who knows what. And the eyes. The way she looks at me every time I go out just bothers me. It's as if I'm never coming back, you know? I know it's nothing but I can't help but get worried. Josh," you turned to him, not wanting the words to spill, "do you think...maybe...maybe..."

"—you're actually a secret royalty living a fake life and now those people looking for you have found you?" he finished with a small grin.

"What kind of—no, dumbass," you said, hitting him on the shoulder as he laughed. "And if there's any royalty in this school, it's you, you know?"

"Am not."

"Then am I lying Mr. Hong Jisoo who has a bigass family-owned chain of cafes and restaurants all over the state, which, may I remind, Mr. Hong Jisoo hasn't accompanied me to as of yet as payment for leaving me behind and partnering up with other people for our project in Management class?"

"I told you already, they grabbed me first before I can grab you!" he laughed. "And remind me again later this week, okay? Promise. You can eat whatever you want."

"See? Royalty." You smiled in triumph as you arrived at the small auditorium.

But as you sat on your usual seat at the back, a couple of rows away from his, the taste of small victory wore off and your worries started coming in again.

You watched as he sat on the seat next to you, a thing he always does before class. "What if the stress is getting to her?" you started again. "She's been working nonstop, Josh. My whole life, she's been working job after job. I have no idea how she's never gotten sick before but what if..."

You didn't have the courage to say the words but in reality, they have been swimming in and out of your mind for a while now. Sure, she's never gotten sick before but you know firsthand how the mind can be a dangerous battlefield.

Joshua sighed and reached out, patting the top of your head gently. "Just try to be there for her, I guess. Listen to her and, I don't know, just be patient, maybe?" he said with a soft smile.

That's what you liked about your best friend. Though he was your age, there's this older brother side to him that you can't help but be thankful for especially with the garden of anxieties growing in you for the past years. He was like a gardener that helped pull out the weeds for you or with you or at least helped you live with them for a while.

"Uh..."

Your attention was brought to a guy in a blue cap, a classmate, standing behind Joshua. It was your seatmate, a handsome guy who, 40% of the time, was either painfully awkward or painfully talkative with his silent commentaries about class. The remaining 60% would be him trying not to fall asleep. Seungcheol, as you found out after asking him out of concern, was a working student.

Joshua immediately stood up. "Morning, man."

"Morning," Seungcheol replied to him before turning to you. "Morning."

"Morning."

You both watched Seungcheol as he settled in his seat and put his cap away in his backpack before rummaging for whatever it was. His eyes...were his dark circles always that noticeable?

"Well," Joshua said, bringing your attention back to him, "let's talk about it later?" He patted your head a few more times before going back to his seat just as the professor arrived.

You tried not to think too much about what was happening and instead tried to focus on your enthusiastic professor dancing around the board with his Xs and Ys. It was a good distraction too or else your worries would've eaten you away, not to mention you would have nothing to answer for your future tests. That and you would've noticed your seatmate stealing glances at you with unrest painfully obvious in his eyes.

🌻

Was it a good thing or a bad thing? You weren't sure. But having a discussion about your worries with Joshua after class would have to wait.

"Sorry."

"I know, I know. Your world needs a superhero and you have to go. Can't I really go with you, though?" you asked bargaining for the second time. "I could just go and eat chicken while you're in your meeting. That way your debt would be gone before you know it."

"What and you get to eat alone? Without me? I need my healing time too, you know?"

"Healing time?" you said with a laugh. "I guess you can call it that."

It was nearly 5 in the afternoon and the longest day of your week is finally coming to an end with every step you took away from the school.

"But hey, you own the thing," you continued, now nearing the edge of the campus. "You can eat chicken and have your healing time anytime you want."

"I can't, okay? It's not exactly healing if you're eating alone. Besides," he turned back to you with the car behind waiting for him, "you need a friend," he smiled. "Or else, you'll binge eat and whine about how your pants won't fit anymore afterward."

"You're such a babysitter. D’you know that?" you asked, rolling your eyes at him.

"Aren't you grateful?" he laughed before going in. "Chat me up, okay? See ya!"

You forced a small smile and waved as he closed the door, watching the car drive away in silence. It’ll be a few days before you share a class and a schedule with him again. Once more, you were left to your thoughts.

Or so you thought.

The way home was supposed to be a short one but for some ridiculous reason, you had to make it otherwise.

It started a couple of days ago. Almost every day on your way home, there would be this chilly feeling of you being followed. You tried to chase the thought away thinking that it's the worries and your current 'mom problem' getting to you.

You shook your head. Now you're just getting worried about your worries getting you worried.

But the feeling just won't go away today. Usually, you would only look behind and see other commuters walking past you, maybe even catching a bus ready to leave from the bus stop, and the feeling would stop. Nothing else would happen after but today was definitely different.

You tried to stick to open spaces, even going to shops and pretending to do something there but even when you didn't see anyone, it was still disconcerting. It was like having another shadow, apart from yours, but not seeing where it is. And this time, it felt awfully near.

You tried not to hurry, even humming a song to mask your growing fear as you went down the steps to the subway but inside, your chest was pounding and you were about ready to scream in case anything happened.

You turned to the right and dreaded what was before you. You've always hated this part of the tunnel. Only a handful of people used it at this hour and it doesn't help that there was a long way to go until you get to a place with more people.

You took a deep breath and pulled out your umbrella from your bag.

Well, if anyone tries anything, I could at least smack them in the face with this.

With your heart beating fast and your umbrella tightly in your hand, you walked through the tunnel and silently prayed for everything to just be your mind playing tricks on you. It would've helped except that there were sounds of footsteps behind you that was not too near yet not far too.

It was off rhythm, you thought, as if trying not to be too obvious.

You heard the man (you assumed it was a man) cough, even talking to someone, maybe on his phone. But as you neared another corner, the footsteps tuned unhesitant and that made you all the more hurry.

Your feet weighed like bricks that you were dragging in front of the other. Chills kept running down your spine and you can tell, sweat was starting to form on your forehead.

Just a little more, you cried inside, willing yourself to make the corner in safety.

A presence hovered by your shoulder,

"Excuse—"

"Hey—ow!"

You caught your scream in your throat just in time for you to realize who you just hit.

"What was that for?" the guy asked, rubbing his left arm. "I told you to wait for me, didn't I?" he asked, not minding the look of disbelief now splashed on your features.

"Seungcheol?"

"I know my jacket is soft but it still hurts, you know?" he said, still rubbing his arm. But then he looked to his right, just a few feet behind you, adjusted his cap and smiled. It was the same smile he had earlier but even you, who has only exchanged greetings and short comments with him, knew: that wasn’t his normal smile. "May I help you?"

You looked back to who he was talking to and behind you was a man—just as you thought—with a phone in his hand and a look of surprise on his face.

"I—Sorry. I—" he said, his hands animatedly trying to convey whatever he was trying to say. "Is this Exit 3?" he finally asks after a short moment of silence.

"This is Exit 4," Seungcheol replied with the smile still on his lips. "You should’ve taken the left from the stairs if you wanted to go to Exit 3," he said, pointing to the end of the tunnel where you came from. He continued to stand there with his smile.

What's happening? you wanted to ask but you just noticed how heavy your breathing was at the moment.

"Ah. Yes," the man looked around, a few seconds passing by before he finally turns and walks away.

"Now," Seungcheol started, once the man was out of sight. He turned to you with the same smile still on his face. "Why did you leave without me, princess?"

🌻

"Seungcheol."

A smile. "Wait."

"Seungcheol."

A head shake. "Not yet."

"Choi Seungcheol."

He flinched but not without smiling afterwards. "Yes, princess?"

You crumpled your right hand into a fist while looking down at your left hand held captive by the guy walking next to you. "What. the hell. is this?"

Seungcheol continued to make his way through the crowd with you in tow. Since the tunnel incident, he's had your hand tightly in his. In the subway. Out of the subway. And now in the street. With your legs that almost turned to jelly and your heart trying to keep up with what just happened, it was, at first, a help. But almost half an hour has passed since then and all that he was doing was dragging you along.

"And stop calling me princess. It's weird."

"It's uh...just put up with it for a little longer, okay?"

"Seungcheol."

"Please?" he asked again, his eyes still busy scanning the way. "Just pretend we’re close friends and don’t mention anything about what happened. Just until I'm sure you're safe."

You opened your mouth once more to reply but nothing came out. Did he know?

With that in thought, you allowed him to pull you along a little further in twists and turns until you finally convinced him that your legs were on fine and that you were safe in your own street, now just a little ways from your house.

"Thank you," you breathed, exhaustion now catching up.

"Don't sweat it. It—"

You were waiting for him to finish but when you turned to look at him, he just smiled at you, his dimple showing from his cheek.

"How'd you know?"

"Huh?"

"My house." You stopped right in front of your front yard and nodded towards your humble little place of dwelling.

"I-uh-didn't?" he answered, his eyes shifting from you to your house behind you. "I was just walking along, tryin' to feel if we were in the right direction or not," he explained with a small laugh.

"Sketchy but whatever. Thanks again. We don't really talk but you really helped me today. A lot. Sorry for hitting you too."

Seungcheol shrugged as he placed his hands inside his pockets. "It's fine." He bit his lower lip and the look of concern was back in his face. He bounced on his feet before nodding towards your house. “You should go in.”

Just then, the screen door opened and you heard what would be your mother walking towards you. "Honey? What is this?"

"Mom. I—"

"Seungcheol?"

“A man—” You blinked. You took a second to think if you heard her right. "You know him?" you asked, watching your mom stare at your classmate.

Again. It's those eyes again.

Seungcheol stepped forward. "I—"

"A man? She wasn't harmed, was she? What happened?"

"Mom, what are you—Seungcheol's a friend from school. He helped me today—"

"Did they approach her? Seungcheol, did they try to get near her?"

Your eyes switched from your mom with her hand now tightly holding your arm and to Seungcheol who looked weirdly defeated. "Mom. What are you talking about?"

"I'm sorry," Seungcheol finally answered, briefly glancing at you before looking straight to your mother. "One of them got too near her in the subway. I had to step in. I'm afraid I may have just confirmed their speculations."

You watched the color from your mom's face get drained and you could just feel her grip losing strength. "Mom," you said, your hand quickly supporting her by the shoulder. "What is going on?"

You turned to Seungcheol who was just looking at you in silence. "Can either of you please tell me what the hell is going on?" The heart in your chest pounded and you found yourself unable to speak any more.

"I'm sorry," Seungcheol finally said, bringing you back to your senses. "I'm sorry you're now in this kind of situation. You shouldn't be. But there’s no turning back now."

"What situation? Turning back from what? Seungcheol. What's happening? And who...are you?"

Maybe it was the desperation in your voice or the unknown tears that were starting to form but his hand that was about to reach for your hand withdrew immediately. Seungcheol looked crestfallen.

Your heart still hasn't calmed down and you doubt that the answer to your question will help it to be. Nonetheless, you had to know.

Seungcheol took a deep breath and looked you straight in the eye. "I'm your bodyguard, y/n and I'm here to keep you safe."

[thesinglesjukebox]

HAIM - SUMMER GIRL

[7.92]

We think it’s fly when these girls stop by for the summer...

Nellie Gayle: I'm not exactly the least biased observer when it comes to Haim's music. I owe a good portion of my close friendships and my longterm relationship to the Twitter fandom they cultivated around the time of their first release, when I was a tiny baby in college. But, still, I think my respect and affection for them doesn't disqualify me from having a valuable opinion on them. In this case, I can especially appreciate "Summer Girl" as the rare Haim song celebrating longevity and long distance in all of its pangs and nuanced happy moments. Written for Danielle Haim's partner during a serious illness, Summer Girl is a painfully sweet momento of that moment when we realize exactly what we are to other people and walk toward that version of ourselves. There's an easy breezy quality to the song that's underpinned by the fear and trauma that can visit a relationship. To be a summer girl, here, is less about wilding out for yourself in global warming record highs (still an admirable pastime), and more about how we can find strength by viewing our own selves -- malleable, fragile, messy -- as the strength and release someone else needs. This shift in perspective creates love for both ourselves, and the vessels of care and affection in our lives *collective 'awwwww'* [10]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: Lou Reed knew how to make these sparse, simple songs that felt content with life despite knowing its many shortcomings. "Summer Girl" feels imbued with that same gritty hope, not least because its "Walk on the Wild Side" influence is patently obvious. The backstory of this song -- that it was written for Danielle Haim's partner Ariel Rechtshaid after he was diagnosed with testicular cancer -- makes this feel all the more heartfelt. But really, it's there in the music itself. This is the sort of song that feels like the product of a jam session between friends, where repetition and marginal changes in dynamics are a reflection of lazy summer days and a desire to just do something with the people you care about. Danielle Haim grounds the song with her vocals, but it's the music -- ever-loping and easy-going -- that signals the message here that everything will be all right. I'm reminded of Pavement's "Gold Soundz," specifically the notion of a mutual emptiness. What Malkmus spoke of was a romanticized ennui, but any emptiness I sense here is of a different sort: a willingness to empty oneself completely, to be filled with nothing but the love of another. [7]

Katie Gill: Thankfully, the four minute long showcase for a saxophone riff features a REALLY GOOD saxophone riff. [6]

Michael Hong: Haim may have described "Summer Girl" as an attempt to emulate "Walk on the Wild Side" by Lou Reed, but its aesthetics also seemed to be partially informed by Danielle's recent stints across Vampire Weekend's Father of the Bride, especially, the jazzy-vibes of "Sunflower" and "Flower Moon." And similar to Vampire Weekend, Haim have a strength for distilling decades of influences to make their music sound simply like the present. On the surface, "Summer Girl" sounds exactly like a summer breeze, but it's deceptively chill. The burden of forced positivity leads to a sadness and the feeling that the group is holding back that creep into the track's breezy atmosphere. That sadness and restraint should be worrying; however, Danielle's reassuring vocals flip any anxiety into peace, and everything else disappears in the meditative way she repeats the line "I'm your summer girl." [7]

Ashley Bardhan: I love how soft Danielle's vocals are and how the saxophone peeks out from behind it, like the twinkling of an ice cream truck on a sticky July night. I feel the heavy summer breeze passing when she says "You walk beside me, not behind me/Feel my unconditional love." It's a whispered command breaking into love and heat, opening the grey clouds to see the "angels coming now." As the song ends, amidst steely drums and saxophone swelling, you reached the beach in your favorite town. [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Songs about summer love take place at the beach, on bright sunny days, end at parties; they are flirtatious, playful, even dangerous; they sound like the rush of falling in love at an irresponsible pace, but being too young and dumb to give a care about the eventual season's change. To be sure, these songs are great, but "Summer Girl" is so arresting and gorgeous precisely because of its subversion of this formula. It begins after the thrill of the chase has already subsided, and focuses instead on the emotional intimacy and complexity that percolates afterwards. When Haim whisper, "I can see it in your face/I'm relief/I'm your summer girl," it's the portrait of romance so intoxicating that pillow talk doesn't require talking at all in order to understand connection -- no matter how brief. The meandering saxophone soundtracks this all sublimely, tinged with bittersweetness as if to ruminate on the nature of love that, by definition, has an expiration date. I know I'm young and supposed to be at some club hooking up to whatever song of the summer dominates the airwaves, but this year, all I want to do is lay in an open field gazing at stars, surrounded by nothing but the sound of crickets chirping, the crackle of bonfire, and this song playing in the background as I fall asleep in a stranger's arms. [9]

Josh Buck: An unexpected and disarmingly smooth four minute swerve that makes a compelling case for Haim's longevity. [8]

Alfred Soto: A minute before the "doo-doo" hook I knew the drum pattern and sax were drenched in "Walk on the Wild Side," and it fits: Danielle Haim on a casual stroll across Hamptons dunes, cheering herself up with the musical memories competing in her head. [7]

Kayla Beardslee: An absolutely perfect summer song, "Summer Girl" would work best when played on a lazy August weekend, sitting on a screened-in porch or sprawling on a wooden dock, watching the sun slowly dip below the horizon and turn the sky pink and orange -- but I'm listening to it at a dining table on a Tuesday afternoon, and it still sounds wonderful. Danielle Haim is restrained, voice gliding smoothly over the bass with a contentment that matches the lyrics, but her emotions break through on the stellar bridge, where she describes her memories of earthquake drills and tears behind dark sunglasses. These images, which in a vacuum would seem sinister, are instead imbued with a surprising nostalgia, and the best lines in the song follow moments later. Danielle sings, "Walk beside me/Not behind me/Feel my unconditional love," and you can feel a lifetime's worth of emotions -- infatuation, frustration, longing, respect, happiness -- wrapped up in those ten seconds. And behind it all are the joyful bursts of saxophone, echoing like they're coming from just around the next street corner: the instrument, like the song as a whole, blissful, content, and yet always in motion. [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Summer in Southern California is, perhaps counter-intuitively, a dreary time. As a kid in the vast suburbs below Los Angeles, summer was mainly characterized by the absence of things -- of the structure of the school day, of the friends you picked up (gone away to various sleepaway camps), of the will to do anything that would risk your leaving the cool darkness of your room. The weather the rest of the year was good enough to be summer, and so the season itself became a sort of filler period, a tone-setter lost in the tone. "Summer Girl" is a song that captures the feeling of an endless Southern Californian summer perfectly, its lazy backbeat and drifting saxophones rattling around in my ears until the track's disparate parts melt together. For a band that's tended towards studio perfection even in their jammiest moments (c.f. "Little of Your Love"), the move towards chill is almost disconcerting. But afternoons spent waiting out the sun deserve soundtracks as much as any of the more kinetic times of summer, and "Summer Girl" fits that bill better than anything I've heard in a while. [8]

Kylo Nocom: "Summer Girl" hearkens back to weird memories of hazy 6th grade school buses playing Kendrick Lamar on the radio and 9th grade memories of looping Radiohead by myself thinking about all of the memories I was going to make in high school. It obviously doesn't resemble the former two artists at all past any invented superficial resemblances (well, the outro does resemble "Separator" a little...) but it captures something specific that I haven't felt in a long, long time. Much of this is like one long blur of looped familiarity, but the bridge is a sweet moment of lucidity quickly whipped into yet another river of pure daydreaming music. Summer's been rough on me; it's my last summer before graduating and I'm still so confused by what I want to do. This, in all of its reassuring and affirming glory, is a pleasant reminder that I've got all the time I need. [9]

Vikram Joseph: "Summer Girl" derives much of its power from the pull and tension between the crisis of health and love that inspired the song (hinted at when they sing about "the tears behind your dark sunglasses") and their determination to present the season as an airy, carefree thing nonetheless. The minimal, pastel tones of the production are impossibly classy -- there are shades of Broken Social Scene at their most light-handed here, and a saxophone part that suspends the song a few feet off the ground, like a balloon perpetually on the verge of carrying the whole thing off into the stratosphere. [8]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[royaltyjunk]

Maybe the Man Never Returned [T, FE8 Week Fic]

Summary:

“Maybe it is all for naught.” Only Lyon, resting in the heavens, hears his words. Written for FE8 Week on Tumblr.

Author’s Ideas: *flashes a thumbs up*

I love FE8 and Knoll

The themes for this fic are “return/disappear”, and why not do both?

I will never stop making all the FE8 royals/the people who like them suffer, so yes, this is part of “Wishing Until My Heart Goes Cold” (my FE8 series find it on AO3)

Well, I mean, the AO3 link is up there-ish, and here’s the FF.net link.

Disclaimer: Man do I love FE8 and I love Knoll but no I don’t own it

He returns to Grado after the war, led by one man and riding with another.

The wind batters at his face, knocking his hood off of his head for the millionth time. Knoll doesn’t bother trying to put it up again. As they approach the ruined Grado Keep, the winds will only get stronger.

“…Tired?” Duessel inquires.

“No. Not quite,” Knoll responds.

“Good,” Duessel says, and they fall into a terse silence again. Genarog growls softly from the sky, and Cormag reaches forward, scratching at his wyvern’s neck mechanically.

“Hush, Genarog,” Cormag’s voice drifts down from the sky, and the wyvern lets out a cry akin to a whimper.

Knoll doesn’t say anything, simply staring ahead.

“How are you, Cormag?” Duessel calls from behind Knoll.

“Well, I suppose,” Cormag replies, dipping down from the sky.

“I see. We’ll stop for the night when the sun sets.”

“Will you be standing watch tonight, General Duessel?” Knoll asks.

“Yes,” Duessel responds. “You two seem rather tired. I would rather be tired than drag the two of you past the point of exhaustion.”

“Thank you, General,” Knoll breathes, and he really means it. He knows that he does not have the best physical constitution, that he gets weared down easily. He cannot speak for Cormag, but judging by the wrinkles and the stress behind his brown eyes, the skies have worn the youthful wyvern rider down as well. Knoll clenches his fist, his hands hidden by his long robes.

Neither of them speak again until the sun sets along the horizon, sending stripes of yellow, orange, pink and the tiniest hint of purple across the sky. The wearied warhorse Knoll and Duessel are riding on clops to a slow stop, and Genarog lands beside it.

Duessel dismounts from the warhorse, and Knoll slips off of the mount. Cormag unsaddles Genarog, sighing as he dumps the leather saddle on the ground, tangled in straps of leather and buckles of metal. With an aggravated look on his face, Cormag opens one of his bags, pulling out a folded tent cloth. Knoll sighs, reaching for a bag along Duessel’s horse.

The purple-haired man pulls out the wooden stakes, and Cormag accepts them, along with the small hammer Knoll hands him.

Slowly, the two men set up the large tent, and Duessel returns from the forest. Knoll starts a fire, and they roast the game the old general has hunted. Duessel takes the roasted deer and goes to stand guard, and Cormag and Knoll are left sitting around the fire. As though they share a mind, the two men stand. Knoll puts out the fire, and they slip into the tent.

Knoll falls back onto his makeshift bed on the grassy floor, sighing as he holds his hand out in front of him.

There’s a gentle scraping sound on the other side of the tent, and Knoll forces himself to concentrate, slowly conjuring a wisp of dark magic from his hand. It flickers and wavers before settling against his palm.

“…What will happen to Grado?” Cormag asks suddenly, setting down his knife and the wood figurine in his hands.

“I don’t know,” Knoll murmurs, closing his hand to extinguish the dark flame in his palm. “I truly… don’t know.” He glances over, looking at the wood shavings scattering Cormag’s blanket, and Knoll blinks. “I never knew you were skilled at wood carving.”

Cormag dusts the wood shavings onto the floor beside him, scooping them up and throwing them out of his tent. He sighs, pulling his blankets over himself and staring up at the ceiling of the tent.

“Yes. Glen and I… we used to…”

Knoll doesn’t say anything when Cormag swears and turns on his side, his back facing Knoll, and chokes back a few sobs.

“…Sorry,” Cormag whispers. “I just… it’s only now hit me.”

“What has?” Knoll asks cautiously.

“I was so focused on revenge… I never even mourned my brother’s death once.” Cormag snorts, but there’s a bitter tinge to the sound. Knoll just turns onto his side, staring at the other side of the tent.

“Knoll.”

There’s a voice echoing through the air. It’s not Cormag’s.

“Knoll.”

It’s something so familiar, so warm and comforting that it’s disconcerting.

The sky rumbles, the earth crumbles, the towns and cities collapse into the fields that open up to reveal the blood of the earth - lava that spills over the disintegrating earth, devouring crops and destroying the civilization that had once been called Grado and corroding away at the prince who disappears beneath the world Knoll had once known.

Then he’s staring at the ceiling of their tent, sweat drenching his face, his blankets twisted at the end of his makeshift bed, and he realizes it’s all just a dream; a dream that seemed too real to not be true.

Knoll rests the back of his hand against his forehead. Cormag snores away on the other side of the tent. His skin is sticky with sweat, and he closes his eyes.

“Maybe it is all for naught.”

Only Lyon, resting in the heavens, hears his words.

~ / . / . / ~

He returns to his hometown when the Great Calamity strikes, sent off by Duessel and Cormag who go to their own homes.

Knoll borrows a horse from the stables of Grado Keep and offers his companions a farewell, galloping away over the splintered earth and the crumbling ground until he breaks into the forest surrounding his village, and the woods begin to look familiar.

He breathes heavily, sighing as he dismounts the horse and ties it to a nearby tree stump. Knoll runs a hand through his hair, staring at the destroyed village just feet away.

“Knoll?”

He glances to the side, his fingers tangled in his hair. A young lady stands beside him.

“It’s you, isn’t it? Knoll…”

“Elizabeth,” he whispers. “You’re still here?”

“Of course,” she replies softly. “Knoll-”

“I’m sorry. I… I didn’t come home to see you. I-”

“You found someone else, didn’t you?”

The words make Knoll freeze, and he blinks slowly, looking at the ground beside Elizabeth’s feet. “Yes. But… I don’t think I will ever find anyone like them again. And so…”

“Oh, Knoll… I don’t blame you, Knoll… I… Won’t you stop by? When you’re free, of course.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on you, but I can come by to help you. It is times like these… that I came to help.”

Knoll shares a smile with his childhood friend, tugs on his hood, and then turns and walks down the dirt road that winds through the torn down village, along the stone roads that wind through the destroyed market, all the way up to a tiny house along the edge of the village that’s been devastated.

There are two people standing beside the rubble, surveying it with dismayed eyes, as if it were their first time viewing such wreckage. Knoll approaches them, gravel crunching loudly beneath his feet. They turn, and there’s a moment of tense silence between all of them.

“Knoll?” The woman inquires cautiously. The man shifts uncomfortably.

“Mother. Father.”

“Knoll…” his mother says shakily, then wipes her eyes. “You’re alive… my son is alive…”

“I am,” he croaks, then coughs.

His mother walks forward with a sense of urgency in her steps, pulling him into a passionate hug.

“Thank the gods… I was so worried. After everything that happened…”

“I…” Knoll looks away ashamedly. “I’m sorry. I worried you.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

So he doesn’t care about anything, just wrapping his arms around her mother and hugging her tight.

“Knoll,” his father murmurs when he lets go of his mother, and he glances at his father.

“Father…” he curls his hand into a loose fist, glancing at his palm. “…What will we do now?”

“We can only rebuild our village from the ground up,” his father replies, scratching the back of his head.

Knoll’s mother purses her lips.

“I’m sorry, Knoll. You come back to… this.”

“It’s okay, Mother. I came to help you. If we need to rebuild this village from the ground up… then I will help.”

“Knoll…” his mother murmurs, and the dark mage turns to his father.

“Father? What do you want me to do?”

His father sighs, turning to face his son. In his right hand is a bottle of ale.

“Right now… why don’t we have a drink?”

Knoll raises an eyebrow at his father. “Do we… truly have time for such an act?”

“Please, Knoll. It is a time for drinking, either of celebration or loss.”

Knoll doesn’t say anything, simply accepting the bottle from his father. Knoll just stares at the bottle of ale, his eyes on his reflection in the glass.

“I’ve never been much of a drinker,” Knoll remarks softly.

“What was that, my boy?”

“…Nothing,” Knoll looks away.

“How was your life at the castle?” Before Knoll can respond, his father jumps in with another question, a completely unashamed tone in his voice. “What of your friend, the prince?”

“…He was a good friend,” Knoll whispers, and then takes his first and last sip of ale.

~ / . / . / ~

He disappears from his home when his parents begin to skirt around him, when they stare at him strangely and don’t come to his aid when he accidentally wounds himself.

He knows why they do. There’s a hidden fear they hold of their son. It might have always been there, it might not have, but he knows it appeared the day he told them of his work during the War of Stones.

It’s not a fear of his works. It’s not a fear of his power. It’s a fear of him. That he could snap his fingers and drain their life from them in an instance of seconds. That their son has become a monster - no longer the sweet boy they raised.

So he leaves. There’s news of King Joshua and Queen Natasha in eastern Grado, and he has nowhere else to go.

Even from miles away, he can see the flames that rise over the horizon from the city that’s being rebuilt from candles and torches. The light radiates from the ruins, and in response he cloaks himself in darkness, slipping past the drunken soldiers and cheering villagers until he stands at the doorway of Joshua and Natasha’s house.

Slowly, he raises a darkened fist and knocks gently. There’s a gentle murmuring inside the house, and then the door opens. It’s Natasha, with long golden hair and a veil on her head, and she seems like she hasn’t aged a day. She blinks.

“Is someone there?”

Then Knoll remembers he’s covered in darkness, and shakes off the shadows that cling to him. Natasha covers her mouth with her hand, a look of terror in her eyes that transforms into warmth, and then joy, overwhelming joy.

“Master Knoll?”

He nods slightly, looking into her eyes. She smiles widely, ushering him into the living room before rushing to her bedroom. “Joshua!”

The red-haired man grumbles in the background, and Natasha scoffs. When he walks into the living room, a smile grows across his face.

“Master Knoll?”

Knoll shifts on his feet uncomfortably before murmuring, “I am just… Knoll now.”

The Jehannan king laughs before pulling him into an affectionate hug.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Joshua remarks as he pulls away, and Knoll gives him a small smile.

“Yes… It has been a while since we last saw each other.”

“I had been wondering how you were doing,” Natasha murmurs, gently squeezing his hand as she presses her cheek against his. “It does me good to know that you are still well.”

“Thank you… how ought I address you, now that you are a queen?”

Natasha smiles softly. “Sister Natasha is fine. You need not treat me differently simply because I have risen in status.” She pauses, then speaks up again. “Would you like to speak with me? In private?”

“If you could spare the time… yes,” Knoll says hesitantly. Natasha nods.

“Please, have a seat in the dining room. It’s down the hall. Joshua…” Natasha glances over at her husband, and he takes a step closer. Knoll takes that as a sign to depart, and leaves the room. His ears catch their words slightly, a lover’s quarrel, but he blocks them out as quickly as he can.

Their voices echo through his ears, gentle words that hold no intonation of love in them. He wishes so badly that they didn’t remind him of his own love, how it had ended in his world.

“Knoll?” Natasha asks, and he starts, turning. There’s a worried look in her eyes, and she tilts her head. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. My apologies. I just… your lord husband and you…”

“Joshua and I… yes.” Natasha looks away with a despondent veil over her brown eyes, but shakes her head. “Perhaps not now. Would you like tea? I had been brewing tea when you came. I thought you might like some.”

Knoll nods, and Natasha takes a teapot from above the fire crackling in the fireplace, placing the teapot on the table. She sets out two teacups, pouring them both tea.

“…Are you feeling alright?” Knoll questions.

“I wish I could say yes,” the queen of Jehanna mutters. “If… If I could tell you, I would.”

“I’m sorry,” Knoll tightens his hands around his teacup. “…I wish I could have realized back then.”

“Realized?”

“…Prince Lyon,” Knoll murmurs, and something lights up in Natasha’s eyes, something close to realization and awe.

“I see. So you always-”

“Yes,” Knoll breathes. “And I wish I could have realized so much sooner. Perhaps… I would have believed in faith then.”

Natasha takes a small sip of her tea, sighing. “I wish I could have believed in that power of knowledge you hold.”

He blinks. “Sister Natasha?”

“It’s like you told me many years ago, Knoll. I believe in the power of faith. You believe in the power of knowledge. Light and dark magic are opposites. Perhaps we were both mistaken in our beliefs?”

Knoll glances up at Natasha, a veiled but curious look in his eyes.

“I used to think that faith was the most powerful weapon I had… yet now, I stand in doubt of that.”

“…I see.” Knoll touches his hand to the strands of his hair falling in front of his face. “Thank you, Natasha,” he whispers. The queen of Jehanna smiles.

“Thank you, Knoll. For coming to see me. Would you care to join Joshua and I for dinner?”

~ / . / . / ~

He disappears from the records of history entirely, his soul unseen by any man ever again.

He spends the rest of his years in an abandoned house along the edge of the great Grado River. It’s a weary old house, but anything would work fine for a man who’s lost his purpose in life.

Knoll flips through the tome in front of him, nearly used up.

Gleipnir, one of the Sacred Twins of Grado. He felt the tome was so old, it might dissolve at any touch.

His fingers graze the parchment and his eyes follow the ancient language spilled across the pages. His heart throbs, and he sighs.

It’s been happening a lot, recently. His soul has begun to feel drained - has begun to feel sorrowful and strange. Knoll already knows what’s happening.

He’s giving up his soul. To pursue the power of knowledge he had promised that he’d follow, he was giving up his soul. The one thing Knoll couldn’t understand was why it was all happening so suddenly. He’d expected a slow burn, something different than what he was experiencing.

He takes a deep breath, planting his hand on the cover of the book. He ignores the spine of the inside of the book where the remnants of multiple torn pages remain, simply gripping his fingers taut around the parchment.

Then he realizes, in the foggiest depths of his cluttered mind.

It was Gleipnir. It had always been Gleipnir. From the first spell to the nineteenth, it had always been there.

And now he was going to pay for it.

His heart beats rapidly, his blood pounds loudly in his ears. There’s no turning back.

He tears out the last page of Gleipnir, his hand trembling, and the world crushes him, slamming him to his table. He lets out a shaky breath, watching the parchment in his hand become consumed with the dark magic that blooms from his hands, his fingers, his own power.

Knoll closes his eyes, and the last thing he feels is his hair brushing against the arch of his eyebrows and the gentle touch of Lyon’s fingers against his forehead.

~ / . / . / ~

The knell rings for him, a fitting action for a man by the name of “Knoll”.

The former general ringing the knell stops pulling on the rope slowly when he sees the teal-haired man riding to the church in the distance.

Eventually, the sound of horseshoes hitting the ground grows louder, and the old man can’t help but flinch every time he hears them. The man inside the sanctuary doesn’t react.

“Duessel?” Ephraim’s voice drifts inside the church’s sanctuary from outside, and Duessel pushes the door open. The young king’s face brightens, and he pulls Duessel into a hug. “It does me good to see you still alive, Duessel.”

“Thank you, King Ephraim.”

“I came as quickly as I could. What’s happened?”

Duessel blinks, and his face twists with pain. “It… It is Knoll. Come inside. I think you will understand the circumstances much better if you see…” Duessel cuts himself off and pulls open the door to the church.

Ephraim steps into the sanctuary, looking around with awe. “How beautiful…” The stained glass windows paint the pictures of the Five Heroes, and picture the events of the recent War of Stones. Sunlight falls through the windows, filtered with color and the reflection of glass.

“King Ephraim,” Duessel calls from the altar. Ephraim turns his head, and his eyes grow wide. His feet take him closer to his former mentor, until he is standing right in front of him.

Standing there beside Duessel is Knoll, and not a statue or a ghost. It’s Knoll.

Except it’s not Knoll. His eyes are a shadowy black, his face covered with a dreary expression and his arms hanging limply by his side.

Ephraim doesn’t say anything. He knows the fate that has befallen Knoll all too well.

“So he’s finally gone,” Ephraim whispers.

“Yes,” Duessel agrees softly. “When we found him, his house had been destroyed in a blaze of black magic. His soul has been corrupted in his quest for knowledge. There is no Knoll in this world anymore, save for the empty body beside me.”

“What will… he,” Ephraim gestures vaguely at the sentient body of Knoll, “do?”

“He will do nothing unless we force him to. He will stay here and wither away, until the body is ready to join the master.”

“I see.”

“I will leave him in the care of the clergy. They know of his situation, and have promised to take care of him.”

“That's… very kind of them,” Ephraim comments, his gaze drifting over to Knoll’s shell of a body. Knoll blinks rapidly for a second, and Ephraim opens his mouth, about to say something, before stopping himself.

“King Ephraim?” Duessel questions.

“I… Apologies. I have come to realize that Knoll often blinked rapidly whenever he wished to speak, and I was about to ask him what he wished to say.”

Duessel shakes his head, an understanding look on his face. “Do not worry, King Ephraim. I have found myself doing similar actions. I suppose… we will never realize how well we know someone until they are gone.”

“Yes…” Ephraim murmurs, his hand clenching into a fist.

Duessel watches on sadly as the king walks forward, approaching the soulless body at the front of the altar of the church.

“Knoll…” Ephraim whispers, laying a gentle hand on Knoll’s shoulder. His skin is cold beneath his thin shaman’s robes, and Ephraim’s fingers tense up, tightening around Knoll’s shoulder. His nails dig into the other man’s skin.

The sentient body doesn’t react, simply staring ahead blankly. Ephraim lets his hand fall to his side, turning his head to look at Duessel.

“Duessel… I’m sorry. I cannot stay here any longer.”

“No need to apologize, King Ephraim. Thank you… for coming to see Knoll. Or, what is left of him.”

Ephraim purses his lips, nodding. Slowly, he walks away, his footsteps echoing through the church sanctuary. He pushes open the doors with gentle hands, something so not… Ephraim. A soft wind blows through the church, kicking at Ephraim’s cape and ruffling Knoll’s robes. The king of Renais looks over his shoulder, a bitter look on his face.

“My apologies, Duessel… Knoll…”

“It was an honor to see you again,” the elderly man bows, so very unlike the general he had once been. His graying hair slips from its combed back state, and he sighs. “I am getting old… Perhaps it is time I retired, eh, Knoll?”

Silence greets his humorous words, and Duessel curses gently under his breath.

“It’s going to be hard… getting used to seeing someone as passionate as you… like this.” Duessel’s face falls, looking away. “I’m sorry, Knoll. I think… Prince Lyon will welcome your presence,” Duessel murmurs, glancing at the body in shaman robes.

For a moment, the soul of the man once named Knoll returns to his body, and his eyes brighten, his lips pulling up into a small smile. But as quick as it returned, it disappears, until all that’s left is the shell of the man who once loved Lyon.

[dumbbelle]

✄  If You Love Me Let Me Go [Pt. 1] [Pt.2]  Request: ✔  (Anon) || Masterlist

“Josh, this is amazing!” You slap your best friend’s arm lightly, your other hand holding the headphone closer to your ear, attempting to take full advantage of your listening experience. 

It was different from what you expected, that was for sure. You heard none of the saturated guitar tones backed with the percussive rollercoaster that you’ve come to expect – or even the J-pop inspired melodies and rock motifs that might’ve arose from Joshua’s late-night anime viewings. 

“The hook is genius – and dare I say it, but a little bit nostalgic too?” Your eyebrows scrunch together as you try to identify what it is about the song that rings so familiar. 

Joshua settles back into his swivel chair and tilts his head knowingly, a mischievous eyebrow quirking up. “Glad you caught on to it.” His broad smile clues you in on something more, and you refocus your attention to the song, enjoying the challenge. You close your eyes in an attempt to further visualize the song, and that’s when you belatedly realize why the tune sounds so familiar. Childhood memories of 90s-sitcom-marathons flashes through your mind, and you vividly recall curling next to Joshua on your living room couch as you lazily flipped through the channels (”Y/N, just pick one and be satisfied,” he would whine; in return, you would only change the channel once more). 

Your dramatized gasp is enough to tell Joshua that you figured it out. “You didn’t.” You are out of your seat in a moment, and Joshua expertly detaches your headphones as to not stretch out the cord. “What, did you rewatch all 5 seasons of Saved by the Bell just to gain inspiration?” you continue teasingly, although the tiniest bit of awe is recognizable in your tone. He shrugs, all of a sudden looking abashed. 

“And what if I did?” The defensive lilt of his voice matched with his pouty expression has you staring at him, eyes narrowed as to gauge the honesty of his claim. He cracks immediately, his pout morphing into a grin. “I’m kidding– but you know I probably would if I had any time,” he continues wistfully, and your bright expression falters, suddenly reminded of the tremendous amount of pressure Joshua is under. It was common knowledge that the expectations for Seventeen heightened with every comeback. You squeeze his shoulder sympathetically. 

“You’ve been so busy preparing for the new album. Have you at least been eating all your meals?” Joshua’s smile is more like a grimace, and you scowl at his response. “Joshua Hon–”

Joshua shushes you with a finger to your lips before you can properly start to nag at him. “Have some faith in me, I’ll be fine.” His soft tenor is ever so persuasive but your scowl refuses to budge, nearly parental concern your most powerful counterattack. It only starts to melt away when you feel the boy envelope you in a hug, tugging you down to his lap. His swivel chair rolls back under the additional pressure, hitting his desk, but Joshua pays no heed as he lowers his lips to whisper into your ear. “But thank you for caring.” It’s that soft tenor again that has your resolve breaking, and you find yourself only grunting a “whatever, Hong” into his chest. 

It’s peacefully silent for scarcely a moment before Joshua decides to ruin it.

“It would have been your first-year-anniversary with Jeonghan today.”

It’s silent again, but this time without the peace. A tense aura surrounds you both as Joshua scrambles to think of a way to salvage the situation, thinking he might’ve gone too far. Before he can start to ramble about the newest innovative café opening, he hears a soft murmur against his chest. 

“Thank goodness I caught him making out with that girl, huh? Otherwise, I’d probably be spending my week’s salary on the fool.” Your laugh sounds neither biting nor bitter, just melancholy, and Joshua doesn’t know if that’s a million times better or a million times worse. 

“Is that why you were so salty over text earlier?” Joshua feels accomplished as he hears your muffled giggle, even if you only slap his chest, lacking a proper riposte. He fakes a yelp of pain. “What ever did I do to deserve your constant abuse?” You pull away only so he can physically see you roll your eyes, but he is quick to bury you back against his chest. “Nuh-uh, today you’re here to be smothered with my affection,” he says, readjusting his hold on you so that you’re both a little more comfortable. 

“I thought I was here to listen to your song,” you huff, although relaxing into the cuddle as you simply accept your position. There was no use pulling away; Joshua had always been stronger than he looked.

He hums. “That too, but I would also consider it part of my grand master plan to coddle you with affection. You’re my main inspiration after all.” You can feel him brace himself for perhaps another surprised slap but instead you’re the one to surprise him by letting out a groan. 

“You freaking liar, I know you really love those 90s sitcoms.” Joshua’s scandalized, clearly about to protest when the two of you are interrupted by the opening of a door. 

“Shua, vocal team is going out for brunch.... Ah, sorry for intruding,” Jeonghan averts his eyes from the two of you as if catching you both in a compromising position. You freeze stiff, and Joshua gently untangles the both of you, skillfully trying to lower the tension for everybody in the room. Nothing is said as Jeonghan slowly turns his head back around to meet your eyes. Your peripheral vision allows you to see the calendar by Joshua’s door. It’s taunting, a blatant reminder of what the day could’ve been for you both  – what the day should’ve been for you both. It hurts. 

You’re the first to look away.

“You guys can just go ahead without me,” Joshua, always first to diffuse the situation, offers simply. You notice that soft tenor holds a slightly harsher tone – one not mean but firm. Jeonghan gets the message loud and clear, quietly closing the door once again and bidding the both of you goodbye with a rigid smile. Joshua can’t help but pair it with your own melancholy tone from earlier. He looks back to you, and witnesses your pained expression that glances longingly at the door. 

“He looks tired, Josh,” you try to sound nonchalant but there’s no mistaking the guilt in your voice.  

“We all are, y/n,” Joshua looks for a way to distract you, reaching out to gently brush his hand against your arm. You take a step backwards.

It’s unfair, you’re aware, but you can’t help the slight anger from bubbling up inside of you, erupting out in the form of a hot accusation. “You said you’d take care of him.” And you’re confused because you don’t think you should care, but you really really do and it hurts to see Jeonghan with heavy bags under his eyes and a delayed stutter to his step. “You promised me,” you continue, boring your eyes into Joshua’s. 

“I’ve tried, y/n. Believe me, I’ve tried.” You hate the fact that you can tell he is telling the truth, and the sentence is enough to shut you up, though your shoulders fail to relax. Joshua still has the decency to look ashamed, glancing over to the pair of headphones resting on his desk. “He was the one, really,” he’s purposely vague with his hesitant words, you can tell, speaking as if he knows he shouldn’t. 

“The one?” All the statement does is ignite the curiosity within you, a flame that you’re eager to extinguish as you fix Joshua with a hard stare, urging him to continue. He stares at his feet.

“The one to suggest the whole 90s theme. He knew you used to love those shows, told me you would talk about them all the time. Even helped with some parts. Said I should make the song about you,” Joshua circles a spot on the ground with his foot as he rushes out the story. “Told me not to say anything,” Joshua finally looks up to be met with the sight of your teary eyes. He reaches out a hand and brushes the tears away with a thumb. You hold your hand over his, leaning into his touch for comfort. Joshua’s chuckle echoes hollow in your ears. 

“Believe me, I’ve tried.” 

You eventually leave the dorm after about an hour more of conversation and cuddles. You’re feeling significantly better than you first did after the encounter, though you definitely felt bad for ruining what should’ve been a happy experienced as Joshua took another step in his musical career. You promise to make it up to him, and start to ponder the list of possible gifts as you search for your shoes amongst a messy pile of others discarded by the boys as they filtered in and out of the dorm. You honestly didn’t know how they did it, and you’ve only managed to uncover one of your shoes from the rubble of footwear when you feel a tap on your shoulder. 

“Looking for this?” 

You spin around only to be met with those eyes from earlier, Jeonghan holding your other shoe out for you in a wooden manner. You receive it just as ham-handedly, although speculative of any hidden motives. He’s not supposed to be here right now? “Thanks.” Why is he here? “Um, aren’t you supposed to be at that brunch?” You sound more choppy than intended, and Jeonghan flinches at your tone. You can’t bring yourself to apologize, so you only wait for a reply. 

“I really wanted to talk to you,” he says hopefully, and you wonder how weird it would be if you made a mad dash for the door. Joshua could always just visit you instead... 

“S-sure,” your mouth betrays your thoughts, but you can’t help but smile slightly at the way Jeonghan beams, surprised. He was obviously not expecting a positive response, and he appears disconcerted as he looks around for a way to continue. He finally gestures towards the door. 

“Shall we take a walk?” He outstretches a hand and you stare at it blankly – purposefully – before walking ahead. He blinks, processing the move for a second before laughing lightly and shoving the hand into the pocket of his sweater. “Should’ve expected that.”

“No!” 

“Yes!” 

“You’re kidding me, Seungkwan could never escape that alive. Besides, Joshua would have told me,” you maintain, yet Jeonghan only bobs his head enthusiastically. 

“I’m 100% serious – and the only reason I know about it is because I caught him in the act. Jihoon’s still looking for those headphones.” Unlike the delicate tonality of Joshua, Jeonghan sustains an animated voice. One perfect for storytelling and gossip, like now. “I promised my silence for his devotion.” It’s statements like these that Jeonghan remembered would always get you to laugh heartily, and your reaction does not disappoint. He can see the crinkles at the corners of your eyes as you throw your head back and let out a bout of uncontrolled laughter. Perchance he goggles for an instant too long because you sober up once you notice his eyes trained on you, though it doesn’t look to be out of spite. 

Jeonghan can work with that. Jeonghan can work with you not hating him completely. “You’re so pretty when you laugh,” he comments airily, trying to keep any signs of flirtation out of his voice. He’s not trying to scare you away, he’s just trying to be nice. However, he still can’t stop himself from feeling proud when he notices the way you look down, clearly embarrassed. You knew it too, that Jeonghan always got a kick out of making you flustered. And maybe you loved it enough to never stop him.  And then, Jeonghan takes a deep breath.

“I just wish I realized that sooner, you know?”

Just like that, the elephant in the room is lifted, taking with it a gargantuan load off of Jeonghan’s shoulders. He continues striding straight ahead, hands buried in his pockets as he waits for you to tell him what he’s been expecting – that you thought he was stupid to let everything he had crumble to pieces; or that if he really appreciated you, then he wouldn’t have cheated in the first place. All confirmations of what he already knew, but things he needed to hear nevertheless.

You say none of the above. “Me too.” It’s simple... Too simple. Jeonghan wishes he could make you say more, almost asks you to even. But then you reach out and give his hand a squeeze, lingering in your grasp before you merely pull away. “But sometimes we’ve got to forgive ourselves, and move on.” Move on from me, so I can move on from you. Jeonghan’s always been good at lying straight through his teeth, so he smiles and reaches out to return your light squeeze.

“Yeah, okay.”

If you love someone, let them go.

If they return, they were always yours.

If they don’t, they never were. 

– Kahlil Gibran

Three weeks later, Joshua comes home to the dorm with a blissful smile that says far too much. He confesses bashfully that he asked you out on a date and that you said yes. Jeonghan listens to the congratulatory commotion in the living room from his bed, pretending to be asleep. He closes his eyes. He’s happy for you.

For the first time in months, Jeonghan gets a full night’s rest. 

[immedtech]

Can an open-source AI take on Amazon and Google?

It's only been a few years since Amazon unveiled the Alexa-powered Echo, but since then, smart speakers have become a major consumer-electronics category. Key to its success is the notion of the always-on virtual assistant, which other companies like Apple and Google have adopted as well. In fact, not only has Google made Assistant the driving force behind its Android smartphones, it has launched its own line of Echo rivals.

But underneath all of this technology is the potential risk to your privacy. In just the past few months, news reports have uncovered a series of alarming revelations that companies like Amazon, Google and even Apple have been listening in on conversations without permission. The data that they collect are also often stored indefinitely unless you explicitly delete it or turn off the recording ability. The companies have since responded that the listening of information only occurs to a small percentage of its customers and that the data are anonymized. While that may be true, it's disconcerting that none of this is transparent, and that the customer is rarely in complete control of their data.

An easy way to avoid this, of course, is to not partake in this technology at all. But a company based in Lawrence, Kansas, is working on an alternative solution: a virtual assistant aimed at preserving privacy and that's also open source. It's called Mycroft, and though you may not have heard of it, the company's been around since 2015.

"At the time, the only real voice technology that was in broad production was Siri," said Mycroft CEO and founder Joshua Montgomery to Engadget. Amazon had announced Alexa in November of 2014, but it was still in private beta when the idea for Mycroft came about. "We thought, you know, hey, this is the type of technology that could be really groundbreaking in the future. And scarcely a year later [in 2016], Amazon launched their Super Bowl ad with Alec Baldwin, and then Google got in on the game, and suddenly it's the fastest-growing segment of the technology market."

Montgomery is an aerospace engineer and USAF veteran with more than a passing interest in technology. In 2005, he started a small internet service provider based out of Lawrence called Wicked Broadband, which ended up being one of the few small ISPs in the country offering gigabit fiber, way before Google got on board. At the same time, he and a group of friends wanted a space to build fun things. For example, back in 2005, he collaborated on something called the Fox Blocker, a device that, when screwed into your TV, would block Fox News from showing up (Engadget wrote about it back in 2005). "It was a lot of fun," he laughed.

With the money and free time that Wicked afforded him, he helped create the Lawrence Center for Entrepreneurship, a co-working space that doubled as a place for makers, complete with laser cutters and 3D printers. "And you know, working there, we wanted to do something that was super-creative," said Montgomery. "One of the ways we thought would be really cool would be to add voice. I wanted to make a place like Iron Man's lab, with Jarvis."

Thus, the idea for Mycroft was born. The team even came up with a smart speaker reference device called the Mark I and put it on Kickstarter in August of 2015, just three months after Amazon debuted the very first Echo to the public. It funded, but it really was mostly intended for developers and makers like themselves.

And then the aforementioned Amazon ad happened. "We were just kind of buoyed along by the wave." It helped add legitimacy to their idea, but it was also incredibly daunting.

The Mark II showing recipe conversions

"When I originally went out and started talking to people to raise money, the feedback was that nobody's ever going to want one of these," Montgomery said. "They were saying, 'It seems a little crazy, and it's always listening, which is super-creepy.' And then Amazon did their ad and overnight, the reaction changed. It became 'Oh, Amazon's in that space, you're never going to have enough momentum to conquer it.'" The problems in fundraising went from selling a crazy product that nobody wanted to selling a non-crazy product that was going to get overwhelmed by the behemoth that is Amazon.

Still, Mycroft survived and has raised about $5 million from investors and the community. That's a far cry from the billions that Amazon and Google make, of course, but for a small seven-person team based in Kansas, that's enough to keep the project going.

Just like Alexa and Google's Assistant, Montgomery describes Mycroft as a platform. Even though the company has made the aforementioned Mark I speaker, around 90 percent of Mycroft's user base use it on their own devices, be it a Raspberry Pi or their own desktops or laptops. As of this writing, Montgomery says there are around 34,000 Mycroft users.

On top of that, there are several companies that have chosen to work with Mycroft because they didn't want to be beholden to Amazon or Google. Mycroft has received investment from Jaguar Land Rover, for example, and has implemented the Mycroft platform in an F-Type sports car as a test. A tiny personal robot from Spain called the Q.bo One uses Mycroft, and Chatterbox, a voice AI designed to teach children to code, also uses Mycroft as its platform. Montgomery says he's received a lot of attention from players in the hospitality industry, such as cruise ships and hotels, because there's a strong incentive to preserve the privacy of guests.

The Q.bo One is an open-source robot that uses Mycroft AI

"At the end of the day, our goal is the same as Google and Amazon, and it's to provide a voice experience so natural that you can't tell you're talking to a computer," he said. "The difference is that we're building an open platform, and we want to make it available to everyone as opposed to locking it up in a vault somewhere and then charging for access. And we're aiming at preserving privacy."

One way Mycroft protects users' privacy is ensuring that all of the data submitted is entirely opt-in. "Around 15 percent of our community contributes their data to improve the technology. For the remaining 85 percent, we don't keep that data at all. It just disappears." Mycroft also offers the right to be forgotten, which means that even if you did submit your data in the past, you can choose to delete all of it. "There is absolutely no danger of somebody listening in to your private conversations if you don't want it to happen," he said.

The privacy aspect of these technologies is a bigger issue than most people realize, Montgomery said. "The path that we're setting ourselves on, in terms of being willing to give up all privacy to these companies in exchange for, you know, being able to get the weather on-demand or set a timer is really alarming."

"The level of integration that voice assistants will eventually have on our day-to-day lives is going to be equivalent to the level of integration that smartphones have on our lives today. And so giving these companies access to everything we say and everything we do and allowing them to take that and manipulate us and monetize us is something really scary."

An updated design of the Mycroft Mark II.

Of course, as such a small company, Mycroft has run into problems along the way that are probably relatively minor for companies like Amazon and Google. For example, with its work with Jaguar, it learned that it needed to support 40 languages instead of just English. It had to collaborate with Mozilla and the larger open-source community for internationalization efforts, which unfortunately takes a lot of time.

"For companies like Amazon and Google, they're able to acquire pillar technologies as complete companies that were already in business for decades," Montgomery said. "For us, we have to build it from the ground up."

Another issue is that in order to build machine-learning, you have to have a bunch of data, and with only a 15 percent contribution from the community, that, again, takes a lot of time. Yet, Montgomery said that Precise, its wake-word spotter -- the tech used to detect voice -- is on par with Amazon and Google.

That's not to say it's perfect. "Just like technologies from those companies, the data set is biased toward white men because it's white guys that contributed all the data," he said. That's even more so with the Mycroft community, as Google and Amazon by default have larger and therefore more diverse user bases to cull from. "We're actively seeking to diversify the data set and make it better for everybody." More recently, Mycroft has been working to build a local machine-learning tool that allows people to directly train their wake word on-device itself, which should help with the potential issue of the device not recognizing different voices.

As of right now and for the foreseeable future, Montgomery said that Mycroft will be focused on getting the best user experience possible, especially on core functions like alarms, timers and getting the news and weather. It's also concentrating its efforts on the production of the second-gen of its smart speaker, the Mark II, to Kickstarter backers. But while the Mark II is a much more consumer-friendly version of the hardware, Montgomery admits that the Mycroft platform is not quite consumer-ready just yet.

Still, he's optimistic that they can get it done. "Using our approach and to be financially successful is important. We're continuing to build trust with the community, and when more of those people contribute data, we can continue to improve."

- Repost from: engadget Post

[marjaystuff]

Elise Cooper Interviews Karen Rose

With Into The Dark, Karen Rose has outdone herself, which is hard to do. This story is a great read for the holiday season: full of intense scenes of suspense, a sprinkle of romance, and great characters the readers will fall in love with.  The core of the story is finding acceptance, trust, and love while struggling to avoid extreme danger.  But an added bonus is how Rose delves into subjects such as living with the handicap of deafness, being HIV positive, and child abuse.

The story opens with a bang as teenager Michael Rowland is being chased by his stepfather, while carrying his younger brother Joshua. Michael knows that Joshua is going to face a fate worse than death after seeing his stepfather drug the younger boy. From his hiding place, he sees a man murder his stepfather. Not knowing what to do, yet having a sense of safety, hoping that the danger has passed with the stepfather’s death, Michael and Joshua return to their home.

Everything appears back to normal as Michael realizes that his drugged-out mother will not be able to pick up his brother from soccer practice. As he shows up, the soccer coach Diesel Kennedy realizes Michael is bleeding from his head. Knowing something is dreadfully wrong, he convinces Michael to accompany him to the clinic where Dr. Dani Novak works. Once she examines the boy, it’s obvious he’s been abused and is deaf.

Because of the abuse, both Michael and Joshua have to be put in a foster home.  Dani is an emergency foster parent for deaf children and decides to take both these boys into her home.  She knows she can help Michael because she is deaf in one ear and has learned sign language. She and coach Diesel decide to work together to protect Michael and Joshua from their mother and the killer who wants to eliminate all witnesses. Besides trying to keep the children safe, Dani and Diesel also are dancing around their feelings for each other, attempting to overcome the emotional baggage. Their support group of friends and family come together to help in both cases.

After reading this novel, people will wish this heartbreaking and emotional story never ends. The protagonists are complex and caring with good hearts who teach each other how to trust again. The mystery is intense and will keep readers guessing until the very end.

Elise Cooper: How did you get the idea for this novel?

Karen Rose: This story had been building in my head for quite a long time, since the second book in the series where Diesel walks into the clinic where Dani is working.  In writing their story, I knew it had to be around deafness.  I would say this book has organically grown over several books.  Remember in another book, Dani is stabbed and Diesel is there to rush her to the hospital.

EC: Dani and her brothers Deacon and Greg have Waardenburg Syndrome. Please explain what it is?

KR:  I also have it.  I didn’t realize I was subconsciously writing about it with Deacon’s character until it was on the pages with his white hair and unusual eyes, a blue and brown eye. I am deaf in one ear and my daughter is completely deaf.  It is a genetic condition that primarily causes deafness and lack of pigmentation.  

EC: Are the character’s other senses heightened?

KR:  On TV, viewers see where a character does not have a certain sense and the others are heightened.  I think it is more that people with the loss learn to become more aware of their surrounding environment.  For instance, if I am in a big crowd, I become more aware because of my hearing loss in one ear.  It can be very disconcerting.

EC: How would you describe Diesel?

KR: A gentle giant with a lot of tattoos. I would describe him as a big Mr. Clean.  He is caring, protective, and an honest-book.  He even got a tattoo with the Star of David for his mother who converted to Judaism.

The first hero I ever wrote where a male suffered abuse as a child was Diesel.  

EC:  How would you describe Dani?

KR:  Someone who is very guarded and is willing to always help others, but not herself.  In the beginning of the book, she does not like herself very much.  Dani projects calmness and serenity because she never yells in anger, but instead internalizes and fumes. She blames herself for a lot of things that went on in her life.  Overall, she is kind, caring, and patient.

EC: Why did you make Dani HIV positive?

KR:  In the book Did You Miss Me readers were introduced to Dani’s brother Deacon. He says to someone, ‘you need to get yourself tested because the same thing happened to my sister who trusted the wrong person.’ I decided to make Dani HIV positive to allow me to explore many of the misconceptions.  Since I plotted out Dani’s story years ago, the treatment was different then.  Now, the treatment and prognosis are easier to control where the levels are undetectable.  I hope I shed some light on it.  

EC:  You handled the abuse scenes without putting in the grossness?

KR: I want the drama in the book to be the aftermath.  I like to take a page out of the old movies where the body is shown without blood and viewers see the reaction of the on-lookers.  Many times, these scenes are scarier and people get a lot more emotionally involved. I showed how Michael feels embarrassed, fearful, humiliated, and scared.  Probably because society tells men who were abused, they are somehow less of a man.  This is why I wrote the scene where Diesel tells Michael how it happened to him also.

EC:  Why the X-Men reference?

KR: I have Dani with dark hair and white streaks as well as deaf in one ear. I was born with that white streak that Dani has.  In one scene in this book she says to Diesel, ‘where were you when I was a child and was made fun of all the time.’ I was made fun of to the point I wanted to be invisible. No one wants to be different as a child.  I thought how the X-Men can put a positive spin on it.  Joshua, the younger brother, sees Dani’s white streak and is immediately reminded of the X-Men character, Rogue. I even gave Dani’s dog Hawkeye a super-hero name.

EC:  The dogs play an important role in this book?

KR:  This is a running tongue in cheek since I wrote an earlier book where this killer never leaves any witnesses.  A woman comes out of the store carrying dog food and I had killed her.  My editor would not let her be murdered.  I spent days trying to figure out how she could be shot in the head and then live. A friend who is a trauma surgeon told me that a person shot execution style with their head tilt at a certain angle could survive.  The bullet will not penetrate the skull.  This is what I did to Dolores, who readers would recognize as running the animal shelter.  Now everyone gets a dog from her.

EC:  How would you describe the relationship?

KR: At first, they were tragically apart. Dani’s fear is holding her back.  Once she realizes it this helps her to make the final step.  

EC:  The bad guy is a “Dexter” type character?

KR: I realized that some readers will cheer him because he kills pedophiles.  The antagonist, Cade, does not have a line he will not cross.  He justifies to himself that if he kills off all the witnesses who are innocent, he can continue protecting people.  But in reality, he just likes to kill people.

EC:  So, you make chocolate and Star-Trek references?

KR: I love chocolate and needed a lot to write this book.  Regarding Star-Trek, my husband is a Trekkie and goes to all the conventions.

EC:  What about the American Girl dolls reference?

KR:  There is a story behind it. Some time ago we lost everything including our house.  We dug ourselves out after ten years.  At that time, I found out my oldest daughter always wanted an American Girl doll, but said nothing because we had no money.  When she was 18 or 20, we went to the store in New York. The doll she always wanted was discontinued but I bought her another one, and we even went to the café.  They brought this high-chair that connects to the table for the doll and there was a tea set for the adults and the dolls.  That year, for Christmas, I found the discontinued doll on eBay.  Now my daughter has 8 to 10 dolls.  American Girl is very considerate of everyone since there are dolls with a blue and brown eye, and others with braces on their legs.

EC: Can you give a heads up about your next book?

KR: The next book will be out in August 2020 and will be the second book in the Sacramento series.  It will continue the cult arc and the threat it poses to Mercy.

When I finish the Sacramento series there will be another book in this series, the Cincinnati series.

THANK YOU!!

[winstonhcomedy]

How’d Winston Do This Weekend? 11/2-11/3

What a wild and wacky weekend of wonderful comedy!!! We had a twofer on Friday in Petersburg, and then a bit of a road trip for a shit show at Smith Mt. Lake on Saturday!!!

I love a twofer. Two sets in one night. It’s especially rare when the show isn’t in a huge city. The fact that Petersburg had two shows on Friday is kind of ridiculous, but I am definitely not complaining.

The first was the Off The Rip Improv Showcase at Plaza Mexico Bar and Grill run/hosted by my buddy Mu Cuzzo. I think it was Mu’s first time running a show like this which is pretty neat. I hit him up before the show and asked for a spot. He put me on and let me go first so I could make my second show.

I get there early and get to hang with Mu, his dope girlfriend Paula, and Bryan Williams. I knew Paula before I knew Mu. She used to come out and support a bunch of comedy shows. She’s a pretty dope artist as well. She is a poet, a writer, she makes jewelry, and there’s probably a lot more I’m missing as well. She’s a good influence on Mu, and supportive af. I always enjoy talking to her!

Mu is in a super good mood, because his mom is coming to watch him perform for the first time. This is a super dope moment to watch. When his mother gets there Mu hands her a bouquet of flowers (it’s her birthday) and gives her a huge hug. Shit like this gets me teary eyed. Small stuff like that really touches me in a crazy kind of way.

Mu’s mother is a pretty strong, and awesome woman. Mu told me she’s on city council and when city council tried to knock down city worker’s pay by 10% she told them to take all of her pay. This is a bad ass move. It show’s she gives af about the community, which is rare as hell nowadays.

Had to talk to Bryan about staying in his lane. Bryan is a good dude who means well, but he sometimes gets involved in some stuff on fb he really shouldn’t. I think arguing about stuff on FB is super annoying and pointless (even though I’ve done it.) I just advised him it’d be best to mind his own business and keep his head down and just write/tell jokes. He’s so new he doesn’t need the reputation of a White Knight or argumentative dude on FB. It was about some personal stuff going on in the comedy scene rn so I don’t want to go into it, but it was a good talk.

The room itself is pretty big and spacious. There is a weird divider in the middle of the room. The DJ is set up on one side, and the comics perform on the other. There is a pretty good crowd there, but because the room is so big it doesn’t feel super intimate. Also there's a table of about 11 people behind us that you have to turn around to see. It’s an odd setup, but it works.

Mu went up first and did a good job getting the room ready for comedy. Since the microphone was wireless and he knew a lot of the audience he walked out into them a little bit and did his thing. He got his mom involved a bit, and warmed up the room nicely.

I go up first and have a pretty solid set. I only did crowd work. It did not have the vibe of a crowd that would be into my material. I only did about 5 minutes since I was a guest, but I got his mom involved and his cousin. I had some pretty good lines, and got some big laughs. 

All in all I’m glad I went to the show. I’d give my set a B-. After the set I hopped in my car and drove straight to Wabi Sabi.

Wabi Sabi is one of my favorite comedy rooms. It is usually hosted/run by Jason Klingman. Tonight Kenny Wingle was hosting since Jason was at the Brian Wilson concert in Richmond. 

This is a room set up for comedy. It is in a basement, has low ceilings, tight seating, brick wall backdrop, separated from rest of the restaurant, and usually has a good crowd. This is not an easy room by any means, but they do reward funny. You have to be willing to work for your laughs. They like jokes and crowd work. 

I’ve had some of the best sets of my life at Wabi and I honestly think it’s a room that has made me into the comic I am now. I’m not afraid of any room, and it really helped me build my confidence while doing material or crowd work. 

When I got to the show Alex Castagne was on stage and he had a hot one. The room was full, and he was slaughtering. Alex is a funny dude, and a good friend. A real fine jew of a boy.

 He gets off and Joshua Horsford goes up. Joshua has been in and out of the comedy scene for a long time. He started well before me, but he also writes/acts so there are times where he is absent from the scene for months. He had a pretty good set and Kenny went back up and did some crowd work in-between him and the next comic.

Next up is Patrick Nowaczyk one of the members of Rich Girls comedy. A comedy troupe that isn’t really doing anything anymore but was full of some of my favorite comics when I started. Pat started out super strong. He was really killing up top, but then he got into some of his longer jokes and they either didn't get them or just didn’t have the attention span for them (which sucks because he did two of my favorite bits he does). 

He gets off stage and since it is late about two tables get up to leave. Which is always disconcerting as a comic who is going last on a show. 

Bryan showed up to hang out after his set at Mu’s show. When he got there he asked for a guest spot. Kenny came up and asked if it was ok if he went in front of me.  I didn’t give a shit. Bryan’s five minutes aren’t going to affect me. 

Bryan goes up and really does not have a good set. He caught them when he got on stage, but after that he really let their lack of laughs get to him and he got more and more timid. He just had no confidence and they just weren’t his crowd. After his set about half of the remaining tables leave. 

Kenny goes back up and does a little more crowd work to get the crowd back and excited again. Luckily the tables that were left were great audience members. 

I go up and just go right into crowd work. They are vibing with me and my energy right away. I do about 25 minutes and I can honestly say I did one joke in the middle (and it worked).

The audience members left were amazing. I had one of the best sets I’ve had in a while. I was jumping back and forth between two large tables of guests, calling back to crowd work, and really getting weird and intimate.

Talked about sex with a mom/dad in front of her daughter who was celebrating her birthday. Talked to another lady about how much she loved to be choked. I had a lot of lines I can’t even remember, but it was a super fun and hot set.

I’d give it an A- and maybe even bump it up to an A. 

It was so much fun, and really glad I was booked on this show. After the show I hung with the guys a bit, and then Klingman showed up. We talked about the Brian Wilson show, and I asked to be on next month’s Wabi show (it is the 9th year anniversary and I didn’t want to miss it.) Afterwards I headed home.

Saturday was a fun day. I got to wake up late, and hang out with my niece which is one of my favorite things to do. I also knew I had a good hang on the horizon because I was driving to Lynchburg to meet up with my dude Jake Snyder and ride with him and Paige Campbell to the comedy competition at Heath’s Waterfront Grill at Smith Mtn. Lake. 

Once I get to Jake’s we got and grab a bit to eat at Wendy’s next to his house. Someone asks him how tall he is (6′7) and they then reply with, “that ain’t too bad”. I don’t even begin to know wtf that even means. 

Paige gets to his apartment and then we hit the road. We are jamming to older metal on the radio, and it legit feels like we are comics in the 80s. Three dudes crammed into a car, driving into the middle of nowhere for some dogshit show and a chance at $250. 

We have done this show before, and it actually wasn’t bad. I had a super hot set and won some money. They had us on a real stage, and it was pretty packed out. Definitely more fun that it had any right to be.

This time we show up. The sound system is shit, there is no stage (they have moved us to the corner), very little audience, and the energy is weak af in the room. We all know it is going to suck.

The good thing is there are definitely some folks I love to hang with here. Johnny Camacho (Roanoke comic), Kristinia Montouri (Roanoke comic), Colby Knight (lynchburg/charlottesville guy), Zach Webb (lynchburg comic), and a few others idk at all. 

The host Phil Hogan goes first and he just gobbles dick for like 15 minutes. Like it is brutal. Barely any laughs at all, and really isn’t vibing with the crowd. After him he brings up a comic Ron Hebert who also bombs. The next comic is Melissa Douty. I have never seen her before, but her reputation precedes her. She is a local headliner/touring comic. Super likeable and a good joke writer. She has what I consider the best set of the night. 

I go up next and in my opinion bomb. I got some good pops, and about 3/4 of my jokes work. I try to engage the crowd, but they aren’t having it at all. I also keep stepping out of the light because it is poorly placed and bright af (I get points deducted because of this). 

The best part was in the middle of a setup to one of my jokes that needs people to pay attention a man who has to be 80 rolls in on his mechanical wheelchair. He is making what I can only describe as a comical amount of noise. He is knocking his wheelchair into tables, and the hostess is talking so loud asking him where he is going to sit. The whole time I am just on stage delivering a joke people don’t want to hear just trying my best not to yell at this old dude. HE WHEELS ALL THE WAY TO THE FRONT!!! On the inside I am dying laughing. It felt like it was out of a tv show.

I’d give my set a C-. I just didn’t have it that night.

Melissa Douty comes over and we both compliment each others sets. I definitely respect her as a comic. Super funny lady check her out. 

Everybody else goes up and honestly it feels like everybody is bombing. Paige and Jake didn’t do great but also the crowd was shit. Johnny Camacho goes up and does a German Psychic character (that I enjoy) and gets a few good laughs. Lastly a 16 year old kid goes up with a notebook and he does ok. Not bad for a first set ever, and he had a few good ideas.

They are adding up the scores at the end of the show while the host goes back up and plays guitar for an obscene amount of time. We are hanging out in the back and 16 year old is one cocky dude. You can tell he thinks he is a comedic genius. He is trying to bust balls, and be goofy. He asks me if my legs are ok because my jeans are too tight (brilliant roast). A little later he says he’s a bit sleepy because he did a bunch of heroin, so I responded with, “yea and after your set I just wish you had Od’d.” He heard me, but he didn’t respond. He also quit busting balls after that. He did have some funny shit so I hope he continues to go out and work on new stuff. His parents were there, so it was cool to see them support his dream.

They announced Johnny Camacho as the winner. Which blew me away. Not because he isn’t funny, but just because Mellissa Douty got more laughs than all of the other comics combined. I’m happy for Johnny because at least a hack didn’t win, but I felt bad for Melissa because for that room she kind of freaking crushed.

We head back and stop at Sheetz to grab some food. We park back at Jake’s place and start doing our favorite street jokes. Then we all go our separate ways. I head home and start playing tf out of Red Dead Redemption 2! Which is how I spent the rest of my weekend.

WHAT AN AMAZING TIME BAYBEES AND LAYDEES!!! I love you a lot and will catch up with you soon. Keep on trucking everybody! xoxoxo LOVE YOU!!!

[omcik-blog]

New Post has been published on OmCik

New Post has been published on http://omcik.com/credit-suisse-under-fire-as-clients-hunted-for-tax-evasion-reuters/

Credit Suisse under fire as clients hunted for tax evasion | Reuters

By Toby Sterling and Joshua Franklin | AMSTERDAM/ZURICH

AMSTERDAM/ZURICH Swiss bank Credit Suisse (CSGN.S) has been dragged into yet more tax evasion and money laundering investigations, after a tip-off to Dutch prosecutors about tens of thousands of suspect accounts triggered raids in five countries.

Coordinated raids began on Thursday in the Netherlands, Britain, Germany, France and Australia, the Dutch office for financial crimes prosecution (FIOD) said on Friday, with two arrests confirmed so far.

The Dutch are “investigating dozens of people who are suspected of tax fraud and money laundering”, the prosecutors said, adding that suspects had deposited money in a Swiss bank without disclosing that to authorities.

British tax authorities said they had opened a criminal investigation into suspected tax evasion and money laundering by “a global financial institution” and would be focusing initially on “senior employees”, along with an unspecified number of customers.

Prosecutors in the German city of Cologne said they were also working with the Dutch. “We have launched an investigation against clients of a bank,” a spokesman said.

None of the authorities disclosed the name of the bank involved. However, Credit Suisse, Switzerland’s second-biggest bank, said local authorities had visited its offices in Amsterdam, London and Paris “concerning client tax matters” and it was cooperating.

It said later it had launched an internal probe. “The investigation will be executed by compliance, it will not be executed by the business,” Iqbal Khan, who is responsible for Credit Suisse’s private banking operations outside Switzerland and Asia Pacific, told Reuters.

“If any individuals are implicated or have violated against these processes or procedures or policies that are in place then we will identify that very quickly.”

The Dutch FIOD seized administrative records as well as the contents of bank accounts, real estate, jewelry, a luxury car, expensive paintings and a gold bar from houses in four Dutch towns and cities. The FIOD tweeted a photo of some of the seized assets. [tinyurl.com/llkjhrz]

The people arrested, one in The Hague and one in the town of Hoofddorp, were not identified.

The actions angered Switzerland’s Office of the Attorney General, which said it was “disconcerted” by the way Dutch authorities had handled the matter and would demand an explanation.

Dutch prosecutors responded that Swiss authorities had been left out of the investigation because none of the suspects were Swiss — they were just linked to secret Swiss bank accounts.

“If the Swiss authorities wish to receive information on the investigation, we, the other countries involved and Eurojust, are always willing to discuss (that) with them,” the FIOD said in a statement.

Eurojust, the European Union agency that coordinates cross-border prosecutions, said the investigation had begun in 2016, and representatives from the countries involved — Switzerland not among them — had held three preparatory meetings to share information before Thursday’s raids.

Prosecutors “analyzed a huge amount of data,” Eurojust said, looking for “individuals and groups suspected of tax fraud and money laundering.”

The investigation uncovered “undeclared assets hidden within offshore accounts and policies…(worth) millions of euros.”

Credit Suisse shares fell 1.2 percent, underperforming the wider European banking sector index .SX7P which rose 0.1 percent on Friday.

OLD WOUNDS

For Zurich-based Credit Suisse, the case reopens the thorny issue of tax evasion which has dogged Swiss banks for years as wealthy individuals around the world have used the country’s strict bank secrecy laws to hide cash from the taxman.

Credit Suisse has paid more than 2 billion Swiss francs ($2 billion) since 2011 in the United States, Germany and Italy to settle allegations it helped clients dodge taxes. It has pushed clients in Europe, Latin America and Asia to participate in government programs facilitating the declaration of untaxed assets.

The bank said in December this process had been completed for Europe.

Switzerland is also among the countries that have signed up to a global initiative led by the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development. Under the OECD’s Automatic Exchange of Information, banks pass on information to local tax agencies, which then share it with foreign counterparts.

Switzerland began collecting data at the start of the year and will exchange information from 2018.

The Dutch FIOD said the coordinated raids were prompted by a tip-off about 55,000 suspect accounts, and it had passed information to the other countries about the accounts.

Spokeswoman Wietske Vissers said the investigation would “continue for days and weeks” across the various countries. The Netherlands is investing 3,800 Dutch leads. French authorities said they had 25 agents working on the case.

Credit Suisse’s Khan said the 55,000 was “not a number that I can reconcile because as of today, in International Wealth Management in Europe, the total number of accounts is lower than 55,000”.

Australia’s minister for revenue and financial services, Kelly O’Dwyer, said the country’s financial crime investigator was looking at 340 Australians linked to Swiss bank accounts, which she said were only identified by number.

“The fact that these accounts are unnamed,” O’Dwyer said, “means that by their very nature they are likely to have been established to hide the identity of the owner.”

(Additional reporting by Swati Pandey, Michael Holden and Oliver Hirt; Editing by Mark Trevelyan and Andrew Roche)