#they will continue to work towards this goal no matter how many years or even decades it takes

[justacynicalromantic]

May 10, 2024

"Admittedly, there's a risk in any course we follow other than this, but every lesson of history tells us that the greater risk lies in appeasement, and this is the specter our well-meaning liberal friends refuse to face.

And it gives no choice between peace and war, only between fight or surrender. If we continue to accommodate, continue to back and retreat, eventually we have to face the final demand, the ultimatum. And what then ?"

(c) Ronald Reagan, 1964.

[cameronspecial]

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 2)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Cocaine Hangover and Attending Sobriety Resources

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Rafe wakes up the next day remembering his mistakes and realizes he needs to change.

Masterlist

The massive headache he has from the cocaine he did last night makes him question why he does it in the first place. Jaw pain is not unusual for him thanks to the substance, but it still doesn’t mean it can’t hurt. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and it helps him clearly see the sweat stain on his pillow. The deep breath he takes brings clarity to last night's events; panic starts to weave through his mind. Y/N is never going to forgive him for going to her house while high and saying what he said. The fury she held is definitely not one he want to meet in court, especially since he built a case against himself. This stress needs to leave him and he knows one substance that would help him relax. It’s the same thing he turns to every time he argues with his dad. He sniffles in an attempt to bring moisture back to his nose, but it doesn’t work. His hand shakes as he tries to open the ziplock bag filled with the white substance. 

And then he thinks about those small blue eyes that match his eyes. The excitement in her voice as she saw her mother. The way her beautiful hair blew in the wind as she ran around the counter. It stops his fingers from going any further. If he keeps turning toward drugs, he will never get to see her again. She’ll never get to know that he is her daddy and that he cares for her even if she doesn’t him. She’ll never get to tell him about her favourite TV shows or food. He wonders if she needs a night light to go to sleep and how many stories she likes to read before bedtime. He doesn’t even know his own daughter’s name. 

He needs to change because he wants to find all that stuff out. He told Y/N that he would’ve changed if he knew about their daughter and he is going to prove that he truly meant it. The first thing he needs to do is get a therapist and get clean. That’s his new goal. All he wants as of now is to be the best father he can be to the little girl. 

——

“I’m Rafe and I am an addict.” The other members of the meeting all retort with the typical anonymous meeting greeting. He didn’t think he had a problem, but his therapist begged to differ. She says that if he really wants to be in his daughter’s life, he has to show Y/N that drugs aren’t more important than their daughter. “I started using it when I was in my senior year of high school,” he starts to explain. “Most parents say they don’t have a favourite when their kids ask, but my dad was different. It was always clear to me that my younger sister was his favourite. No matter what I did, Sarah was the perfect one and I was the worthless one. Coke was the only thing that made his tiny voice in my head stop.��� The group gives him sympathetic nods. They wait for him to continue, “I think that’s all I’m going to share for today. That’s all I need to get off of my chest right now.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Diana thanks. The meeting goes on and Rafe listens intently to the others’ stories. Listening to their journeys, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the signs of his own addiction before. The clacking of chairs folding finds his ears as he helps clean up. He doesn’t hear Diana’s footsteps as she approaches him, “So what made you decide to get sober if you don’t mind me asking?” He looks at her and finishes putting the chair he is holding away. “No, I don’t mind. Um… I recently found out that I have a daughter. I didn’t react so great when I found out that she was kept a secret from me, so I realized I needed to get better for her.” 

“It’s good that you realized you needed help. What’s your little girl’s name?”

“I actually don’t know. I was too high to ask. Another reason why I need to get sober is so I can get to know her.” 

“I see. Well, if you need a sponsor, I would be more than happy to help. I’ve been sober for three years. I know how difficult it can be to try to change.”

“That would be great. I’ve been sober for a day and I’m already struggling with it a little bit.” 

They exchange numbers before Rafe goes on his way to his next meeting of the day. 

——

Anger management right after a narcotics anonymous meeting may not have been the best idea on Rafe’s part. He really did want to get better, but with therapy, he has been doing a lot of talking about his feelings and it is exhausting to him. “And what do you think your anger triggers are, Rafe?” Corey asks, leaning forward in his chair. Rafe feels irritation fill him, “If I knew, then why would I be in anger management?” The look Corey gives him makes Rafe feel like he is receiving a warning from a parent. 

He cowers a little under the look. “Okay, I’m sorry for being snippy. But I’m hoping that I can figure this out. I want to figure out what makes me angry and how I can express that anger in a healthy manner,” he reasons. Corey agrees with his statement, “That’s exactly why I am here to help. Why don’t we talk about times you were angry?”

“The last time I was angry was when I found out that someone I slept with five years ago had my baby and didn’t tell me for five years.” 

“Right and were you more angry about the lie or the fact that you had a kid?”

“I am more upset by the lying. I told myself that I would be a better parent to my child and she didn’t give me a chance to do that.”

Rafe feels nervous with Corey’s eyes on him; today is the most he has been vulnerable since the night he met Y/N. “That is very angering. Now, how do you think you could’ve managed your anger?” Corey pushes, moving one leg over the other. Rafe takes a second to think, “I should not have gotten high that day. Instead, I should’ve opened communications with her. She tried to talk to me before I ran off, but I didn’t give her a chance.” “That’s right, Rafe. This is a very good start for your first session,” Corey applauds. 

——

The blast of music can be heard from outside the front door. Rafe has to laugh at the off-key and incorrect lyrics that are sung about five seconds too late. His daughter might look like his twin, but she seems to have inherited her mother’s musical abilities. He pauses as his fist lifts to knock on the door. The two girls in the house have their own lives. They already know how they fit into each other’s lives and he could off-balance their equilibrium by worming himself into it. He can’t mess up being a father if he isn’t in her life. But then he also couldn’t be a great father if he just left without trying to make things right with Y/N. 

He shakes off his anxiety and knocks on the door. The singing stops and the music dims. He can hear her footsteps approaching the door. Vanilla. It seems to haunt him whenever he is around her. He is glad fear doesn’t flash through her eyes when she sees him. He wouldn’t be able to handle knowing he caused her to feel that way. 

Her hair falls over her shoulder as she looks over at their daughter behind her. “Stella. Why don’t you go play in your room, Baby?” Y/N suggests, blocking Rafe from the little girl’s sight. Stella shoots up from the couch, “Okay, Mommy.” Her little running legs slowly down at the calling out from her mother to walk. With Stella out of earshot, Y/N finally gives him her full attention. “So her name is Stella. It means star, doesn’t it?” he thinks out loud. She slowly nods her head, “Yeah, I thought of it when I was stargazing while I was pregnant. Plus, my grandmother’s name was Luna so I thought it was a good homage to her. Rafe, I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want to see you again unless you were suing me.” His hand moves his watch face back and forward on his wrist. He doesn’t want to look her in the eyes. 

“It’s a beautiful name. And you did make it clear. I want to apologize first. I shouldn’t have shown up to your house high. I probably scared you and Stella, which I never meant to do. 

“Apologizing won’t fix the fact that you came over high while my daughter was in the room.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But seeing our little girl, Y/N. I never thought that I could feel so much love for a person I didn’t know before. It made me realize that I need to change. So I started going to NA, anger management and therapy. I want to be mentally healthy. For Stella.” 

He can see the way she is processing his words and it gives him hope that he has a chance. “Rafe, I’m glad you are trying to get better. I really am, but I don’t know if I can trust you. You haven’t shown me that you are responsible enough to be Stella’s father,” Y/N explains and she doesn’t want to admit that the sad look on his face causes her some pain. He finally has the courage to look at her, “I understand. I wouldn’t trust me either. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance to show you that I am serious about being there for her. I’m hoping that if I stay sober for a month, you might consider letting me meet Stella as her father.” The silence that comes from Y/N absolutely kills Rafe and he feels like time is dragging on. “Okay. Stay sober for a month and Stella can meet you. But I want to meet you every week to get to know you more to make sure you are someone who can be around her,” she offers.

Rafe’s smile fixes the pain she felt before. He throws his arms around her to give her a hug, “Thank you so much, Buttercup! Can you do dinner tomorrow night?” That nickname. God, she didn’t think she could feel this many butterflies in her stomach at a simple name. She remembers why they are having this conversation and removes herself from his arms. “Dinner feels too romantic. How about lunch?” she counters. He gives her a thumbs up as he walks backwards toward his truck, “I can do lunch, great. I’ll pick you up at twelve. See you tomorrow.” 

He gets in his car and starts it. As he does so, he feels a pang shoot through his heart. She didn’t like the idea of going on a date with him, which tomorrow wasn’t going to be. He doesn’t know why he feels that way about it. He shakes off the feeling and focuses on the road.

——

Given that they are here because of Rafe, he offered to pay for lunch. They had decided on a small cafe near her house. “Were you able to find a babysitter? I can pay them for you if you need,” he states, playing with the food on his plate. She shakes her head at his offer, “My brother is watching her, so you don’t need to pay anybody. I certainly don’t need you paying for anything else either. I’ve been able to provide for her just fine so far.” “Right, right. I’m not saying that you can’t take care of her. I just want to make up for not being there for the first few years of her life,” he clears up. She takes a bite out of her sandwich, “You don’t need to make up for not being there. I knew where to find you and it was my choice not to tell you.” 

“Right…So you have a brother?” 

“I do. I have two actually. An older one and a younger one. How about you? You have a sister, if I remember correctly.”

His heart flutters at the fact that she remembers him talking about Sarah. He looks up to see that her attention is fully on him, “Yeah. I have two younger ones. Sarah and Wheezie.” “Wheezie. That’s an interesting name,” Y/N tries to pretend it isn’t strange. Rafe chuckles at the look on her face, “It’s a nickname, Buttercup. Don’t worry.” “Of course, I’m glad your parents had enough reason not to make that her legal name,” she jokes. Her beautiful smile that Rafe loves has returned, “Me too.” “How are you feeling about being sober so far? Any withdrawal symptoms?” she worries. He feels a twitch in his hand at the mention of his sobriety, “I’m not going to lie. It’s hard. I’m always tired, I’m more hungry than normal and I feel an unpleasant itch throughout my whole body. Not to mention the need for the drug is driving me crazy. But then I think about Stella and remember what I am doing this for.” 

The corner of her lips turns upwards at the thought of Stella helping Rafe stay strong. He must truly feel a love for Stella if she is helping anchor him during these trying times. “That’s good,” she says. “Button, I know I said I didn’t want to see you again, but if you ever feel the need to talk to someone, you can come to me. I know that addictions can be hard to overcome and I can see you really are trying. I want to help so Stella can meet her father.” The genuine care in her voice brings tears to his eyes. He barely knows her, yet she has shown more belief in Rafe’s abilities than Ward has in the twenty-six years that Rafe has been his son. Plus, using the nickname she gave him all those years ago must be a good sign that they are on the right track. “Thank you, Buttercup. It really means a lot to me that I have your support.” 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii

[jenctrl]

alien✧˖*°

"in the future, they would barely call it a full conversation, however, they had to start somewhere; in other words, that time Y/n and Hanni interacted for the first time"

warning; part of the 4221!Y/n series, the parts don't have to be read in order!

It could be cliché, it could be something unique, it could be nothing or maybe a mix of something. From what Y/n could remember, she had been called special, but that speciality had never served her anything, but agony until she realised what was so special about standing out. 

Y/n stood out, but she was never seen, she never felt seen or understood. Could have been many things, a lot of parts of her life probably played an important factor, but what was the most important was what she could do with what she had in the moment to build towards her goals. 

It was a gift and a curse, to never be seen, but to be able to see. 

If no one could help her, the least she could do was help everyone else to be seen and reach their dreams.

What was Y/n’s biggest dream? She tended to be so busy with helping everyone that she forgot about it. 

“You look like you need to cry–” Y/n stopped as she reached for another box, glancing at Yohan who was swaying back and forth in his seat. Over the past years she’s lived in Seoul, South Korea after coming from Japan, she found two people who became family. She valued them, nothing brought her more joy than the deep connection she had with her two bandmates.

They were her roots, they had started together, basking on the streets and hadn’t stopped even during the monsoon season. No matter how hard it had gotten they stuck together in the pouring rain. They had a dream, Yohan and Eunki had a dream, one that continued to spark Y/n’s dream. She’d give up everything for them, for a lot of people close to her, hard work paid off in the long run no matter the struggles. 

“I just need something to distract myself with,” Y/n hummed, giving a nod, her eyes glued to the two baby pink boxes filled with donuts. There were probably a dozen too many for them and their crew, but Y/n always ordered too much. “I always get nervous before we get on.” The girl was aware, but she also knew that the guy had a hard time as he tended to doubt himself. 

She wouldn’t be afraid to claim that she could read people well and just knew people. 

She picked up both boxes before walking over to Yohan and crouching down in front of him. The guy ran a hand through his blonde hair, brushing it out of his eyes before meeting Y/n’s eyes. “Or you could let out your emotions.” The girl suggested, willing to listen to the guy whenever he needed someone to listen to him. 

“You could also take the donuts,” Y/n added as the two boxes with a dozen of donuts in each rested on her lap as she stood crouched. She opened the box and they both looked down at them, the sweet scent of chocolate and strawberries filled their proximity. 

“Later?” Yohan questioned, seeing that the green room was quite busy and they could talk on their way back from Music Bank. “Anytime you want. Will you hand these out to the staff?” The girl asked, looking up at the guy with a tilt of her head, the stars hanging from the pastel crochet beanie’s cat ears dangled with the movement. 

Yohan blew hair away from his face as he reached into the box and grabbed a donut, taking it between his lips before grabbing the box and standing up together with Y/n. 

“I will find Eunki,” she informed, knowing that the guy tended to be out and about, talking with others and possibly forgetting the time. He gave her a nod and Y/n walked towards the ajar door of their green room.

She pushed it open with her back, stepping out and closing it with her heel, the box of donuts in hand. It was quiet, most groups were busy getting ready or performing, but someone would always mingle around. 

Y/n huffed, letting out a cough at the impact, gripping the box harder to not drop it. She wouldn’t say that she was a friend to all, Y/n would say that she only had a handful of people she would call friends. It wasn’t because she didn’t want friends, it was just hard to let anyone in and simple meaningless friendships never satisfied her. 

However, she was content with the few friends she had as she had created a deep and meaningful bond with them and that was far better than lousy friendships in quantity. 

“Hi, baby.” 

“I almost dropped my donuts.” 

“So that sweet scent wasn’t you?” Y/n laughed at the words and stepped out of the tight embrace before turning around to face Karina. She hummed, the latter's hand coming up to the stars hanging from the crocheted cat ears. 

“Think it’s your aura spreading that scent and not me or the donuts.” The band member mumbled before she poked at the corner of her lip with her tongue as she opened the box while the older girl toyed with the star. 

“Cheesy, I like it when you are though–” Karina let go of the star and Y/n shook her head to get the star out of her face after it got in the way. The Aespa leader reached for a chocolate-covered one. “You know that my members will come running the second I walk back into our green room.” 

Y/n smiled, looking down at the slightly shorter girl, she scrunched her nose with a shake of her head, “I don’t mind, I’m not finishing them all on my own either way.” 

“They will do that for you.” It made the latter chuckle and with minimum struggle let go of the box with one hand to show a thumbs up before they bid each other goodbye.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

It wasn’t long before she ran into other people. 

“Yunjin, you guys are six, that’s seven.” 

“I need one for the walk back. Oh, I also would love it if we could meet up again soon, I wanna hang out…I also need some help.” 

Y/n was swarming with work, she had been feeling a little under the weather lately. Not in a serious way, not how she would describe it. She had been a bit uninspired lately and her company expected a new EP to be ready in a few months. It would become serious at some point, but she was too busy worrying about the people around her. 

She could focus on herself after.

She hummed at that, looking over Yunjin whose hands were occupied with donuts that laid on the lid they had ripped off. Y/n wouldn’t want Yunjin to feel like she didn’t want to hang out with her or think that she had done something for her to deny it even if she would explain the situation. What if Yunjin would get her doubts about it?

“Anytime, just text me whenever you wanna hang out.” 

“You should text me some time too, you know?” Y/n rolled her eyes at the sassy comment, giving Yunjin’s boot a light kick. 

“I don’t wanna steal you away from–”

“Uhm! I am not up for any teasing, I get laughed at by my members enough–look, you have some new company, Komatsu!” Yunjin stuck her tongue out, making Y/n do the same before she walked off, making the latter turn around to be faced by three girls.

“Please tell me there’s something left,” Ningning exclaimed, sounding exhausted.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

By the time everyone around her scattered away, she was left with one donut and no Eunki in sight. Y/n sighed at the outcome of things, looking at the now single donut in the box that had the lid ripped off earlier. 

There was one last place she could check and it was the usual stairs where everyone would film their challenges. Her strides were languid yet long as she hummed a melody under her breath, hoping that somewhere along the way something would spark her world and she would have something to work with. That one of these melodies would find a muse. 

She rounded the corner, but with doubt because it was filled with silence. 

Y/n sucked air through her teeth, it was almost empty aside from one other person who was sitting on the stairs with their face buried in their palms while tapping their feet in rhythm. There was no reason for the frontwoman to waste time and continue looking for someone who didn’t want to be found.

The younger girl looked up at her and Y/n smiled, “hey.” Her greeting seemed to silence the girl sitting on the stairs. Y/n stopped in front of her and tilted her head in confusion, maybe she didn’t recognise her as she looked rather shocked. They had never spoken to each other despite seeing each other around at the company and music shows and whatnot. 

It was odd, it made Y/n frown in thought. She had talked to almost everyone in the company and become extra close with a handful of people. Despite preferring solitude most of the time, she was quite social. 

The girl stood up, giving a small bow, making Y/n do the same. 

“Oh, hi…I just–” Y/n watched the girl who stumbled over her words, she observed her, watching her body language and facial expressions, learning this new person in front of her. She smiled and Hanni stopped talking, pursing her lips and Y/n could tell that the girl probably thought that was the better option than talking without a point. Not that she minded it.

“No need to stand,” She reassured the girl whose cheeks were growing flushed, Hanni nodded and sat back down in a clumsy manner. It let the latter walk closer before carefully taking a seat beside her, releasing a long sigh. Y/n let the box rest atop her lap and leaned back against her elbows on the step behind her. 

“Did you…need anything?”

“I’m sorry for intruding, I wouldn’t, but to be honest this is the only silent place for some odd reason,” Y/n explained. She could tell that much; Hanni was here for some peace, but Y/n needed the same thing. The usually loud spot was now empty and just what they both were looking for. She stared ahead as she got a hum from the girl beside her. They could be silent together, hopefully. 

However, considering the girl was from the same label, she could ask one last time. 

“Actually,” she started and pushed herself up to sit straight and looked at Hanni, the girl looked away. Y/n hadn’t noticed that the girl had been keeping her eyes on her until now. “You know who Eunki is, part of my band…I’ve been looking for him.” 

This time Hanni looked back at her, her eyes scanning Y/n with curiosity and confusion, however, she still answered the question as her eyes at last met Y/n’s. “He’s recording a challenge with Minji and Hyein.” 

“Is it fine if I wait for him here?” She got a nod in return, the girl looked away and Y/n pursed her lips before humming. 

Before she could avert her gaze, Hanni looked back at her, the action caused them both to halt for a second as neither expected eye contact again. The younger gave a half smile, doing a small once over Y/n who waited, seeing that there was something on the girl’s mind.

“You don’t look like a band member,” she pointed out.

There was a certain preconception about their band, and Y/n was aware of it. A rock band had to have a deeper motive, didn’t it? In the public's eye. They have been accused of trying to become a cult-like band with a following of the same type. Not all esoterism had to be bad, Y/n related to her band though; she was just as misunderstood, but it wasn’t something she minded most of the time. 

The negative people who didn’t matter to her wouldn’t get in the way of her or their hard work. She never expected everyone to understand them. 

Aside from that, Y/n’s clothing style differed from her members as they most of the time didn’t have stylists, but wore whatever they wanted on stage. 

This was one of those days. She liked the loose jeans that she had drawn on, the pink bar buckle belt, the white baby tee with doodle-like art on it and the crocheted beanie together with the charms attached to her belt loops. 

She couldn’t tell which one Hanni was referring to. 

“I like to view myself as more than just a band member,” Y/n replied, there was more to her than the surface, but how did she reveal that to someone? It was difficult, especially when she was occupied with everyone else and forgot what was beneath her surface from being so focused on making sure everyone else was achieving their dreams and doing well. 

Her eyes curiously gazed at Hanni, somewhat feeling entranced by the girl who was a bit more awkward than she would have expected her to be. She could see the little regret wash over the girl who failed to mask the way she cringed at her choice of words with a deeper flush on her face now.

“I’m sorry.” She apologised with an awkward smile, her eyes falling to the little space between them. 

Y/n tilted her head, feeling the weight of the beanie whose stars dangled. Her fingers tapped the box with the donut she had been planning to eat, knowing that everything else had been devoured with no trace left behind. 

“No, I’m sorry.” The band member said as she released a small breath, deciding to follow Hanni’s gaze that was on the stairs they were sitting on. She usually didn’t have much trouble with connecting with people, but Hanni was oddly shy even if she usually managed to make people comfortable around her. 

Why was she so awkward and shy; she had no clue.

“Why?”

“It didn’t come out the way I wanted it to, don’t worry about it,” Y/n replied and looked up at the same time as Hanni did, making her smile with a breathless chuckle. The latter diverted her gaze that kept travelling back and forth, between Y/n and any object in sight. 

Y/n kept observing Hanni though, reading her body language; the way she tugged on her sleeves, her feet gently tapping the floor; restless to say the least, nervous. 

She smiled wider when Hanni took a deep breath and looked in front of her, clasping her hands together with pursed lips. “I think I misunderstood you.” It wasn’t the first time someone misunderstood Y/n by her words or by the person that she was or by the thoughts that she carried with so much passion. 

Y/n hummed and looked down at the single donut left; food always lightened up the mood. The frontwoman turned slightly as she lifted the box from her lap: it grabbed Hanni’s attention as she looked at her, blinking her eyes a few times. 

“Do you like chocolate-covered donuts?” She questioned and they both gazed at the one donut. 

Hanni shrugged as her hand came up to her nape, scratching it.

“Here, you can have it.” The older girl offered and the girl beside her looked up, squinting her eyes slightly. 

“What about you?” 

Y/n stopped for a second, she was mostly used to giving, worrying about everyone around her and helping in whatever way she could and rarely did she hear anyone ask ‘what about you’. People probably didn’t do it because they were so used to her being there for them and maybe after a while there was no need for a thank you or question about how she was doing. 

It wasn’t like she often thought of it either, until it hit right to the core, seeing no one appreciate her efforts. 

“I already had one earlier and we have more in the green room.” She shared an innocent lie, offering Hanni a gentle smile. The younger girl reached for it and suddenly Y/n felt a little palpitation of nervousness, somewhat flustered because of the simple question. 

“Thank you,” Hanni timidly thanked her and Y/n gave her a nod of affirmation, the sounds of footsteps made her stand up and she could hear Eunki talking to who she assumed was Hanni’s member. 

She stepped aside, creating some more space between herself and Hanni who also got up. Y/n halted, thinking it over before she turned the box to the side where the order sticker was. The sound of the box tearing startled the girl beside her who looked at the band member with wide and questioning eyes. 

“That’s my manager's number, if you would like to hang out sometime, text his number and I will send my number to you.” Y/n offered, holding out the torn-off piece of the baby pink box. 

Hanni took it and Y/n stepped down the two steps, coming face to face with the shorter girl who was on the steps; donut and paper in hand. 

“It was nice talking to you, I hope we can get to know each other better, Hanni,” Y/n said with a small bow, the ears and stars hanging from them falling forward before coming back, making the girl scramble from her frozen state to reciprocate the gesture. When Hanni looked up, Y/n bowed again, making the girl follow suit.

She glanced one last time at the Newjeans member, “make sure to eat it ‘cause it’s melting, I will see you around.” She bid one last goodbye smiling with a glance at the piece of paper in Hanni’s hand with the number before she walked away and got the guy.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

“Guess what.” Hanni prompted after she had jumped down the stairs and met Minji halfway who had come to get her. Minji frowned, looking over at the flustered girl with confusion, wondering where she got the donut from. 

“No,” Minji deadpanned and Hanni gave her a dirty look. 

“Just guess what, man.” She said with a click of her tongue while they started their walk back to the green room. The girl took the advice, deciding to eat the pastry before it could have the chance to start melting. 

The leader heaved a sigh and let out a lazy, “I don’t know, you realised that you can’t hide your lack of brain cells with a wig.” It made Minji chuckle at what she said to the girl. 

“Only you laugh at your jokes, and no.” 

“Then I don’t know.” The latter replied with a shrug.

Hanni had a smug look on her face as she licked the corner of her lips. “I talked to Y/n,” the smugness on her face was just as present in her voice and it made Minji stop, Hanni following suit as they looked at each other. The older girl stared at Hanni for a few seconds who took another bite of the donut.

“Did you talk to her or did she talk to you while you stared at her like a fool? As far as I remember you’ve been,” Minji raised her hands, doing air quotes as she spoke, “trying to talk to her since they debuted–over a year ago–but each time you’ve chickened out or come up with some lame excuse.” 

The smugness on Hanni’s face disappeared and her hand dropped to the side. Could anyone blame her? She couldn’t help but freeze up while her brain tried to comprehend the situation all while trying to listen to what Y/n was saying to her. It was the whole reason why she blurted out nonsense at some point: she was trying to make conversation but her mind was short-circuiting. 

She remembers the first time she saw the girl before 4221’s debut and there hadn’t been a word about a new group debuting, everyone was surprised when it was a band that debuted. 

Anyway, Hanni had stayed curious about the mysterious girl she had seen walk by a few times before learning who she was when their first EP dropped with music videos, followed by interviews, reality shows and whatnot. 

Ever since Hanni decided to listen to their debut EP–on the same day it dropped–she had grown even more curious about the abstruse band and maybe slightly infatuated by the even more alien frontwoman. Everyone was drawn to mysteries and Y/n was one. 

Hanni had stayed watching her with a desire to approach her, talk to her, befriend her and get to know her, but she was nonetheless a coward. How could she walk up to Y/n when the frontwoman was friends with everyone at the label and always busy with someone? Not only that but aside from having an infatuation with her mystery, their band's concept, music, lyrics and more, she had a small crush on the undeniably pretty yet somewhat odd girl. 

She admired from afar; Y/n was like an alien that accidentally got put in a band and now stayed on Earth and Hanni wanted to hear more about it. It was safe to say that she was somewhat of a fan. 

It wasn’t something she had kept to herself either as her members made fun of her for it. 

 “Well, you didn’t have to go that far you know?” Hanni said with a frown, her lips forming a faint pout while she bitterly stared at Minji who rolled her eyes.

“Okay, but which one is it?”

“Maybe the second, but!” The girl started as they continued with their walk back. She lifted the torn-off piece of box that had the number, waving it in front of Minji. “Bro, she gave me her number–well, her managers, but she would send hers after I text.” Hanni still couldn’t believe it, she had heard that Y/n was friendly, but she hadn’t expected this outcome.

“And what are you going to do? Go out with her and continue staring?”

“Could you be supportive for once and stop roasting me?”

“Fine, but you always fumble,” that was one thing Hanni refused to do with Y/n even if today was a bad start. However, it couldn’t be that bad if they had somewhat of a conversation and she got a number without even asking for it. 

“Says you.” 

“I don’t fumble any women.” Minji proudly stated and Hanni scoffed. 

“That’s because you can’t fumble something you don’t get,” she bit back as they approached their door, already hearing the rest of their group members from the inside.

“Okay, bro.” The leader dismissed with a sour tone as she opened the door, Hanni following after her as she looked down at the number with a giddy feeling on the inside. 

"She even knows my name."

[ahummingbirdwitch]

Fantasize (Cypher x F!Reader) Part 2

Summary: Part 2 to Fantasize. Read part 1 here

Pairing: Cypher x F!Reader

Word Count: 2,675

Warnings: male masturbation, sexual fantasy, hand job, blow job, p in v sex

Notes: Cypher’s turn ;)

After last night, I think I’m in love with you

(I think I’m in love with you)

Woke up and I can’t get you out of my head

(I’ve tried, I’ve tried)

~~~

Returning to work like normal had proven more of a challenge than Cypher had thought.

That night he’d watched you in your room, he’d hardly slept a wink, waiting for what felt like hours for his erection to go down. He’d thought about finishing himself off, just to relieve himself of the torment, but he’d refused. As desperately as he’d tried to think of anything else, the only thing on his mind had been you. You and your face drawn in pleasure, writhing under the covers as you cried his name…

He’d forced himself to go straight to bed, unwilling to let that memory linger. He couldn’t use you in that way. It was wrong. It was selfish. So he’d resigned himself to a restless night, certain that in the morning, it would feel as though nothing had ever happened.

But, despite his efforts, he could not seem to forget. And in the coming weeks, his turmoil would only worsen.

Cypher had been sure his feelings towards you would not change; he would continue working with you as always—as coworkers and friends, and nothing more. But the moment he’d entered the break room that morning and spotted your face among the others, he’d felt a jolt in his chest. He’d written it off as just surprise—he hadn’t seen you since the previous day, after all—but that sensation had returned later on, when he’d passed by you in the hall. A fluttering feeling in his heart—not unlike the kind he’d felt when he’d first started dating Nora.

It wasn’t a crush. It couldn’t be a crush. He was a grown man—he was too old for crushes. If anything, he was coming down with a sickness. That had to be it.

Unfortunately for him, his symptoms persisted for the rest of the week, and the next week after. He was strangely jumpy around you, his concentration thrown off. He found himself more distracted during missions, his aim far less precise than it usually was, to the irritation of some of his teammates. If you had noticed, you didn’t mention it, but that wasn’t the point. He was off his game. There was something wrong with him, and it wasn’t good.

Cypher had joined the protocol for two reasons, and two only: to gather as much intel as possible, and to protect himself and his identity for as long as he could. In all the years he’d been with Valorant, he had not once strayed from those goals, nor let anything stand in his way, even with all the obstacles he’d faced. He knew everything —nothing ever caught him off-guard.

But for some inexplicable reason, this had.

At this point, he knew you had feelings for him. You were infatuated with him, at the very least. But why? He had never been particularly kind to you. He had been friendly, yes. Helpful, certainly. He’d cracked a few jokes with you here and there. But what had he really done to make you feel this way? Why would you think of him when you were pleasuring yourself? None of it made any sense, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since that night.

He couldn’t understand how he could have had such an effect on you—and in turn, how you could have such an effect on him. This wasn’t normal. He was always so focused, never losing sight of the task at hand, never letting anything distract him. And yet you’d found a way to worm inside his brain, burrowing down deep and making a home for yourself. He could only think of you, and no matter what he did to occupy himself, nothing was ever enough to drive away the thought of you. It was madness.

He had to do something about it.

~~~

Cypher returned to his room late that night, weary and eager to unwind.

He began to rid himself of his many layers, removing his hat first and then his coat, which he hung up on its rack. Once he had stripped down to his underwear, he considered taking a shower. It was so late, but the idea was tantalizing. His whole body was sore, and in all honesty, he didn’t smell pleasant. Wearing so much clothing all day long had its downsides.

Heading into his bathroom, he took off his boxers and started the water for the shower, stepping in when he was sure it was hot enough. As he let the water seep into his hair, he could feel his mind starting to wander.

You’d been assigned to his team for the most recent mission. Recently, Cypher had been finding ways to avoid you, hoping to keep his mind clear as much as he could when he wasn’t working, but when teams were assigned, he had no say in who he could or could not work with, and trying to get out of working with you would have looked suspicious anyway. The mission had not gone nearly as smoothly as it could have; he’d missed a target he’d been aiming at by a hair, then almost botched the entrance during the infiltration of the site. All because you’d been right there with him, and he’d been too aware of your presence.

You. You, with your bright eyes and smile that could light up a room. You, with a sweet voice and an even sweeter laugh. You, who always listened to him so intently, never interrupting. You, who were naive, but somehow also wise. Optimistic in a way he hadn’t been in a very long time, and maybe never would be again.

Cypher leaned against the shower wall, lost in thought. The memory of you in your bed, touching yourself to him, was beginning to replay in his mind. He remembered it so vividly; how you’d thrown back your head and screwed your eyes shut, back arching as you chased the pleasure your hand brought you. How you’d opened your mouth wide and whined his name—his real name—like you needed him more than anything.

He couldn’t take this anymore. Why couldn’t he have just kept your mic off? If you’d stayed muted, he never would have heard you cry out for him. He would never know you had feelings for him, even if now, they seemed almost obvious to him. He would have stayed ignorant, and experienced none of this torture—these feelings and sensations that always seemed to bog him down. It had been so much easier before, when you were just another coworker, another person who couldn’t affect him. He wished he could make all this go away, force his heart and body to stop feeling so much.

As he looked down, though, he was reminded of the fact that he couldn’t simply do that. He groaned, realizing how hard he’d become at the thought of you. Even when you were nowhere near him, you had power over him. It wasn’t right. He was the one with the power; he alone knew everyone’s secrets, including yours. What did you know about him? Nothing. No one did.

And yet… how could he blame you for any of this?

You were just a young woman, a new agent to the protocol. He knew your family, your history, your hometown. He knew the kind of person you were. You were sincere; you had no ulterior motive, no reason to want to get under his skin. You’d always been honest with him, even when you didn’t have to be. That night, you’d been alone in your own private room, with no way of knowing if anyone was watching or listening. You couldn’t have known he would learn about it. You’d done it for yourself… because you wanted to.

You were just… a girl with a crush.

Cypher glanced at his hand, then at his painfully erect cock. There was no point wracking his brain about this any longer. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and he needed some relief.

Taking himself in his hand, he closed his eyes and conjured up an image.

He was sitting in a chair, someone on their knees between his legs. No face. Just someone to please him.

He sighed, relaxing as he began to stroke his shaft.

The faceless person shifted closer. Hands wrapped around his cock, lightly gripping the base.

Cypher copied the motion.

They leaned in, impishly licking the head of his cock, wetting it with their saliva.

He released a soft breath, stroking a bit harder.

Warm lips latched onto the head to suck, letting saliva drip down his shaft. Suddenly, opening their mouth wider, they took all of him in at once.

He inhaled sharply.

Taking him deep in their throat, they sucked and licked his twitching cock, moaning around him. Unable to help himself, he looked down, eager to watch the performance.

You were staring up at him, mouth full of him.

Cypher’s hips stuttered, and he nearly let go of his cock. No. No. Not you. You weren’t supposed to be here. He had to stop this.

He shook his head, rewinding the vision.

He refused to look down this time, focusing solely on the feeling of that warm, wet mouth and fat tongue. He thrust slowly, needing to be deeper, deeper. He hit something—the back of a throat, most likely—and the moan around his cock sent a shock through him like electricity.

It was your voice. Your moan.

A pained noise escaped him. No. He was losing control.

Cypher looked down, helpless not to meet your gaze. You peered up at him from under thick eyelashes, your pretty lips stretched around his cock. You took him deeper into your mouth, tasting him, savoring him.

He moaned, stroking himself harder. Fuck. This wasn’t good. He wasn’t supposed to be seeing your face. But how could he possibly stop?

You licked his shaft, then sucked him feverishly, giving extra attention to his head. He bucked his hips, reaching to grab your hair. Once he’d taken hold, he pulled, and you moaned around him again.

Cypher groaned low. This was so good. Too good.

You grazed him lightly with your teeth, gagging just a little as you tried to take him in all the way once more.

He pumped himself even harder, thrusting with each motion. He knew he shouldn’t enjoy this. He knew this was wrong, but he had to keep going.

You let go of him for just a second, dragging your tongue up his length.

His body jerked. More, more.

“Cypher, please,” you murmured, your lips pressed to the side of his cock. “I need you. Please.”

Cypher grunted. Oh, your voice would be the death of him.

He tightened his grip on your hair. “You need me?” he asked softly. “How badly?”

You licked him again, making him shudder. “I need you right now,” you begged. “Amir.”

He shivered, a surge of heat rushing straight down to his core. Oh, fuck. There was no going back now.

In an instant, everything shifted. He had you pinned down underneath him, both of you naked with eyes locked. You gazed up at him, your cheeks flushed and lips parted. You were so lovely.

Without saying a word, Cypher inched forward, lifting your thighs as he coaxed them to wrap around him. Then, his arms on either side of your head, he pushed into you.

You whined loudly as you took him inside, your slick walls contracting around his cock.

Cypher’s breath hitched as he worked himself. He wondered how tight you were, how wet you would be if he ever got inside you. Would you take him with ease, like this? Or would he have to open you up some more?

He moaned out, soaking in the warmth of your cunt as he drove himself deeper. You whimpered when he bottomed out, tightening on his length, and that only spurred him on. He thrust faster, harder.

Cypher moved as though he were fucking you, bucking his hips with each firm stroke.

“Amir,” you cried out, clawing at his back. “S-So good. So good—please.”

“Shhhh.” He bent down, speaking close to your ear. “Be patient, dear.”

You responded by clamping down on him, forcing a strangled cry from him.

Cypher panted. This was too much; he was so close now. Just a few more sweet words from you, and he’d be done for.

“Please,” you whined. Your hands had moved from his back to his hair, grasping and pulling on his curls. “Amir.”

“Sweet girl,” he breathed. He dropped down to his elbows to kiss your exposed chest. He found your nipple and sucked, relishing the high moan you made when he did so.

Just a little more.

Cypher kissed your jaw, rolling his hips into you. “Do you want to cum?” he murmured.

“Yes,” you gasped. “Please—please.”

What he would give to hear you beg for him like this.

You dug your nails into his scalp, bringing his head down lower. You kissed his nose, his cheek, his neck, no mask to keep his face hidden from you.

Cypher faltered, your name escaping his mouth in a whisper.

You found his ear and took it between your teeth, tugging.

He said your name again, louder this time. So close, so close, so close…

You arched your back, tightening around him and moaning right into his ear. “I love you—I love you, please cum for me—”

Cypher gasped harshly. Shit—it was happening. It was happening now.

His cock pulsed violently in his hand, and then he was suddenly cumming, hot pale seed shooting out from the head. It spilled onto the floor of the shower, swirling for a moment before vanishing down the drain.

Cypher caught his breath, one hand soothing his cock through his climax with the other on the wall to support himself. His heart was pounding fiercely, so hard he could feel it ringing in his ears. He couldn’t remember the last time an orgasm had overwhelmed him this much. He was trembling, and unimaginably hot, even without the steaming water raining down on him.

He exhaled as his heart rate calmed, leaning heavily against the wall. How long had he been in here? He hadn’t even done a thing to actually wash himself. Blinking, and pushing his hair out of his eyes, he did his best to break free of his haze, wiping the last traces of cum from his cock before setting to work cleaning the rest of his body.

Some time later, when he’d finished, Cypher stepped carefully out of the shower and prepared for bed. After dressing himself for the night, he took a seat at his desk. No matter how tired he was, he could not go to sleep without one final surveillance.

Everyone appeared to be in their proper place; even those missing from their rooms were accounted for, either away on an established mission or relaxing in the break room. He searched for the agents from his own team—all in their own rooms, already asleep.

Including you.

You were tucked under your covers, turned away from the camera. Just as Cypher felt a twinge of disappointment, you suddenly shifted onto your other side, revealing your face to him, and his heart skipped a beat. You were holding your favorite teddy bear in your arms, so tightly it could have been your baby, and the corner of his mouth curled up at the sight.

He was too tired, too numb from the last hour to really think about any of this. About what he had done in the shower, and what it had meant. For him. For you. For Nora. The past. The future.

All he knew was that he wanted you, and it couldn’t be denied any longer.

(Part 3 coming soon!!)

[guess-that-ship]

S11 Round 2

Of Stars and Steel

cw: spoilers

A is a sad man at rock bottom, a shadow of his former self, severely depressed and lost in life until he finds hope upon meeting B. B is hesitant to help him at first, but he gives in, seeing A's determination, and the two of them start to travel together. B agrees to teach A what he knows, and they form an alliance based on different, but still compatible goals.

During the months they spend traveling together across the country, they brave many trials together. Their motivations change, and they are now working towards a common end. Having had nobody but each other for company for months, they're more than traveling companions now. They grow to genuinely care for each other. They cook for each other. They crack jokes. A is always appreciative of B's gags, no matter how corny or overly complicated they may be.

They've become perfectly in sync in battle. They bleed together and cry together. Eventually, they begin to prioritize each other's safety even over their original goals, their reasons for traveling together in the first place. They put each other over all else in the world.

B is killed by a powerful enemy that the pair face together, leaving A in shock. In A's moment of weakness, the enemy tries to propose a deal for him. He claims that he can use his power to reunite B with A. Overcome with grief, A seriously considers it. He wants to believe him. He wants to believe that he can strike up the deal with their enemy, and that he will uphold it and return his friend to him unharmed. He breaks down, imploring the enemy to give him a reason to trust him, believe what he's saying. He needs it to be true.

Happy Apple

The Apple was corroded over the years by her Tree, losing her luster. She continues to fake a shiny skin to avoid anyone seeing her true core, but the Happiest is the one person who sees through this facade. Initially terrified, the Happiest then decides to try and make the Apple glow for real, trying and failing over and over again. During one of their interactions, the Happiest realizes that despite the fear she sometimes feels around the Apple, she truly enjoys speaking with her.

The Happiest is part of a group whose goal it is to make everyone smile, but the Apple is singled out in the Happiest's eyes. During one performance, the Apple happened to be in the audience. This caused a spark of motivation in the Happiest's performance that even caught the rest of her group-mates off guard. Later, the Happiest meets the Apple's friends and learns the truth about the Apple, which only motivates her more to somehow help.

Meanwhile, the Apple has been mostly oblivious to the Happiest's antics, but isn't unappreciative of the failed efforts to make her glow for real. At one point, she is even able to speak genuinely with the Apple, asking to forgo formalities between them. While it is unlikely that the Happiest will be the one to return the Apple's luster, that hasn't stopped them from meeting with each other and getting closer to each other more and more.

[oh-there-she-goes]

Batman #145 (preview)

It infuriates me how Zdarsky kept having his Joker refer to Zur en Arrh as the real you or the true Batman. I understand there are many ways to write a character such as Joker, but to have him regard the OG Batman, who in part made him, as a second best to Zur, whom he had only met twice in his entire career, is so...jarring.

I sure damn hope Zdarsky was still cooking and intentionally having Joker spouting nonsense to mess with Batman here because God forbid if Joker was truly being sincere, it would taint all the history between him and Batman in the past decades, turning their dynamics lukewarm if not deploringly lackluster.

And why would Joker care to break the like of Zur in the first place? As formidable as he may, what's so sacred about Zur that needs defiling?

His swift execution of justice? Disproportionate uses of violence? Or his unadulterated brutality? Were these the qualities that left the Joker so enamoured?

One may say it's only natural that Joker would want to unleash his chaos upon Zur, who thinks himself a personification of control and order. But even considering his extreme measures, Zur has never stood against Joker at his core in the ways that Batman has.

In a world where nothing matters, Batman swoops in and fights him by trying to give meaning to everything. And he saves Joker, too, because he believes all lives are worth saving. And that's why Joker is determined to break him. He needs Batman to be wrong.

But what about Zur? Zur is just another man in power. He's dangerously competent, but he upholds no sanctimonious codes. They fight because they have different goals, but there's nothing inherently personal. Joker would not mourn the loss of Zur, and Zur would never feel the weight of guilt from refusing to let his monster bleed to death.

Then again, it might simply be my fault that I lack media literacy. Perhaps it has been Zdarsky's intention all along that Joker was lying. Maybe Joker elevating Zur to such esteem was just a part of his plan to push Bruce to ascension?

On a not-so-unrelated note, as there are many references to Scott Snyder's work in this run, I can't help chewing on how Zdarsky and Snyder differ in their interpretations of Joker.

While Snyder's Joker made it clear that he only cared about Batman and not Bruce, he had never wished for Batman to forgo his humanity.

The most Joker demanded of Batman was to get rid of the family that burdened him (which, funnily enough, Zur agreed). But his resentment stemmed from loneliness and jealousy.

In his heart of hearts, Joker knew they could continue their dance because Batman let it be so, hence the belief that his feelings towards Batman were reciprocated.

Joker even came to admit at one point that he no longer wanted to see Batman broken. What he wanted was for neither of them to win.

The Batman Who Laughs #4 (2019)

And unless something akin to 'Last Knight on Earth' happened, I see this as their dynamic in later years until either (or both) of them perished (which is unlikely to be soon as they both refused to let the other die).

Therefore, this Joker would never want Zur to enter the picture as it had been shown time and time again that when met with the more brutal, more...radical Batman(s), he always chose to side with the Batman who stayed humane.

Like when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, Joker is in love with Batman who refuses to change.

Batman: Last Knight on Earth #3 (2019)

The True Batman, for him, was the Batman who could withstand any test Joker and the world threw at him and remained the same.

Well..., who would like to keep dancing with a man who wouldn't dive from the top of the building after you anyway?

Still, I want so bad to be wrong about Zdarsky. I hope he has plans for them more than he lets on. (T w T)

[rainbowywitch]

Hey, can you read my message and take a moment?🇵🇸🇵🇸 I really need help saving my family from war. I want to live in peace and security like everyone else. I want to be able to sleep without fear that even a small donation can save my family. Please help me

https://gofund.me/b4d9068c

Vetted by . @el-shab-hussein @90-ghost @nabulsi

Please share/reblog our voice, donate to save our lives Believe me, every contribution, no matter how small, helps to survive 🙏

Are you waiting us to die so that you can feel or do what needs to do ?! 😔

To whoever is reading this…. Hello, my name is Jehad Abuhamda. I’m an American/ Palestinian who is seeking for your support in helping me get my close relatives out into safety. My relatives consist of a family of five. Ahmed Abuhamda ( father) Fatin Abuhamda (Mother) Sama Abuhamda (6 years old) Loai Abuhamda (3 years old) Yousef Abuhamda (7 months old) Since the attack on the 7th of October, and the start of Israeli reprisals, their daily lives have gradually fallen apart. Their whole area was targeted and by the grace of god, they were able to live for another day. They lost everything. All around them, tens of thousands of people have died. They have managed to go to Deir Al-balah, which is the supposed safe zone yet it is also under bombing. But like all the survivors of this war, they are facing incredible amounts of hardship like lack of care, diseases, shortage of food, and most of all continuous bombing. From what my Relatives are writing to, it's clear the situation is deteriorating. Like you, I feel angry, sad, and so powerless. My relative lived a hard life after having is right hand amputated from the remnants of Israeli explosives in a previous war. Despite that, it did not hinder him from working in order to provide for his family. But now that he has lost his home, and with the worsening living conditions, He has decided that it is best to leave for the sake of his children. The reason we are wanting to raise $50,000, is due to the price of passage into Egypt. 1 adult costs $5,000 1 child costs $2,500 As I said before they are a family of 5, two adults and three children. The remain money will be for them to restart their life. From renting an apartment to cloths, food, schooling hopefully when they are able to register, appliances and basic furniture, website taxes and exchange rates. I very well understand that this is a large amount money, but together we can make it happen. My relative is an electrician/ cable technician with many years of experience. He is very resilient will hopefully be a will hopefully be able to find a job easily in his new environment. Every share on the social networks, every donation will count, even the smallest. Thank you for reading, and please share to all your friends. UPDATE 7/24/24 I want to thank each and every one who, so kindly donated towards my goal to help my close relatives evacuate the Gaza Strip. I will be doing updates on their situation with photos of them, and hopefully relocating to a safe country once they are able too. The situation in Gaza is very hard right now since the I*sraelis have complete desecrated the Rafa border crossing. The only way for them to hopefully leave, is by the war ending. I pray for all the family’s who have Been persecuted by this war. And to you, and your family’s who have so generously donated.

[b1acksh33p999]

Soul development + Predictive astrology:

NN rules the themes and direction of your soul’s development and growth. When using predicative astrology to see where you are currently developing- it’s best to track how your natal NN aspects via transit, everyone will experience these aspects at least once in their lifetime; how we respond, and develop during these transits will directly manifest our future lives.

Once a year

Transit Sun conjunct Natal NN: this transit happens approximately once a year, and lasts about one month. Energetic effects of this aspect can prove to be a time where things happen which feel karmic or out of our control. When transit Sun exemplifies the energy of your natal NN, this pushes forth the messages from the subconscious about what exactly needs to change in order to reach inner fulfillment. This much conscious, internalized self awareness can cause transformations to be pushed into your daily life in order to align you with opportunities to learn the lessons meant for you to face at that time.

Before the first Saturn return this can prove to be times of pivotal personality shifts, and building blocks to emotional development, and style of communication. This is also a time where one can feel consequences of isolation if they actively choose to be avoidant of the required behavioral changes necessary to further healthy development.

After your first Saturn return- this will become a period in the year where you may feel universal tests to prove your alignment with the higher self, or even times where you are on the receiving end of gifts, surprises, or karmic situations involving new tests of growth. Annually this will be a checkpoint time frame- checking in that you’ve maintained growth and changes made during first Saturn return, while also open to opportunities for further soul development.

As you approach your second Saturn return this will become a heightened period of possible success and fulfillment- this will display as a major shift in one’s desired to “finish what they started,” or play catch up on any lost desires, dreams, or lost goals; this is why many people will decide to buy into luxury, leave toxic relationships, move locations, change careers, or anything that would otherwise be known as “out of character” for their typical behavior, and choice’s.

Once aligned with the path of the NN and balanced properly- this will become a period of blessings, joy, and fulfillment; although it’s a sad reality that many people struggle with matters of the NN because these matters have been constantly pushed upon the placement holder over their lifetime, when their comfort zone naturally aligns more with the traits, and methods help in the opposing sign.

This is why balance is the most desired skill to hone in order to achieve the humbled, self awareness required to see through the correct perspective that would align you with the easiest route to learn what your soul is meant to develop.

Transit Moon conjunct natal NN: this happens approximately once a month for 3 days- this can be accounted for times in the month you may notice old wounded emotions or situations resurfacing; insecurities, old trauma being triggered through daily encounters, weird dreams, feeling more tired then usual, or dealing with turbulent emotional situations, or circumstances.

As you find the correct balance of your needs, and present circumstances then continually put work towards goals found within the midpoint; this transit will feel more comfortable, and introspective instead of invasive.

Transit Mercury conjunct natal NN: this happens approximately once a year in all 12 signs, (not accounting for Mercury Retrogrades that happen typically 3-4 times a year/ in different signs/ dependent on the year); once it lands into a sign, it will stay in transit for about 2-3 weeks. When Mercury is conjunct natal NN in transit this can result in communication mishaps, issues, or trials; core memories made towards building one’s connection with communication style; balancing between internal thoughts, and vocalized expression.

Those who have a comfortable form of creative expression, or art can facilitate the focal spike during this transition to create legendary pieces, break into an industry, or align their focus back onto their craft in order to feel the muse effect of this aspect. If this transit ever happens to cross harmonious aspects to Moon, Venus, Jupiter, or Neptune this will heighten its emotive effects while pushing the aspect holder to embrace growth.

If Mercury conjunct NN happens with a harmonious aspect to Pluto- transformation will be embraced by the aspect holder, even if they were resistant when the transit began; if there is a hard aspect to Pluto during this transit that may prove to display as personalized avoidance, or resistance to change necessary for further soul development, and growth.

It’s important to note that these aspects all predict the natural energy present in our energetic field, and how that may cause your natural frequency to be affected. This is NOT something that is meant to make the decision of an outcome for you, instead it’s about instructing you on what to expect so you know how to properly perceive these changes and get ahead of any possible mishaps. Just because something is hard doesn’t mean it’s not possible, in fact, it’s the things you work hard to achieve and maintain that you will never lose. A secret to the universe is the knowing that what you put your energy into will continue to expand.

Transit Venus conjunct NN: this happens approximately every 1-1.5 years depending on retrogrades every other year. When natal NN is critical to transit Venus- this is a window of time allotted for that person to reevaluate, readdress, and redesign your values, priorities, relationship, and role within your family dynamic to fit the needs of your higher self.

If the person being affected by the transit is stuck in self loathing, pity, martyrdom, reckless behavior; or outdated relationships and priorities this can display in chaotic, highly volatile situations that can cause adverse emotional effects, causing the person to feel set back or excluded from their surroundings.

More on Venus Return’s:

Once you reach your first Venus return after birth, (approximately 8 years after birth), the unique characteristics of the one’s creative endeavors, personality, interests, and perspective on life develop further and are easily distinguished as attributes of an individual.

This is a time when children will find interests, and hobbies that are unlike the direct influence of parents; while marking the beginning of that individuals values, passions, love style, and the first trial with the relationship with self.

Until the first Venus return after one’s first Saturn Return, the personal definitions of love, values, family values, passions continues to develop through the process of trial and error. This can seem turbulent, or unstable; however, it’s just a part of growing up.

In astrology it’s explained that many children are more connected to their south node during childhood, only to connect with their NN as they age; which is almost like the universal grand designs way of allotting time for the joy of exploring the world and yourself during childhood.

Once in a lifetime, or more!

Transit Mars conjunct NN: (takes approximately 2 years to cycle 12 signs)[1-2 months per sign]

-This is a time when energy level, and ambitions increase which causes opportunities for alignment to fall directly into the persons lap. This can display as increased motivation, making big changes or shifts to realign with higher purpose, and normally an increase in wealth, and success. This can also be a time of increased efforts into physical appearance, or transformations; however if the person can manage these changes after the transit ends will determine true growth.

Transit Jupiter conjunct NN: (takes approximately 12 years to cycle)[1 year per sign]

⁃ this is a period of time that will allow your talents to shine while also showing the aspect holder exactly what stands in their way of success. This is a fruitful, and abundant time, yet can be viewed as emotionally and financially turbulent when viewed in hindsight.

⁃ What is shown now is what strengths you have that others desire; at the same time that you are shown the worst in human connection in order to grow thicker skin so they will be able to thrive in any environment going forward.

⁃ The most important lesson to take from this transit is to connect with the areas, and skills that make you special, while understanding your baseline priority of protecting your space, and energy from those who only want to leech from you.

Transit Saturn conjunct NN: (take’s approximately 30 years to cycle)[2.5 per sign]

Transit Chiron conjunct NN: (50 years approximately to cycle) [1.5-8 years] <— retrogrades can account for extreme differences in Chiron cycles.

Only some will have these/advanced development

Transit Uranus conjunct NN: (takes approximately 84 years to cycle)[7 years per sign]

Transit Neptune conjunct NN: (approximately 165 years to cycle)[14 years per sign]

Transit Pluto conjunct NN: (approximately 248 years to cycle) [14-30 years/per sign]

More on this to come! To be continued…

[divaofmads]

King Baldwin IV | Childhood Love

Part I

~Inspired by history

WARNING: I am an amateur for all these and apologize for any mistakes I made as English is not my native language.

🌹🌹🌹

It was the year 1171. Manuel I was trying to return the Byzantine Empire to its former glory. For this, he had to organize expeditions and be the leader of the emperors mentioned in the Eastern Roman Empire. However, it was difficult to act alone. He had suffered many losses during his invasions. Although the future he envisioned in his mind and the steps taken towards this future were working perfectly in his imagination, the foreign policy he followed should have been much more active and ambitious.

Moreover, the Muslims were getting stronger and getting closer to the Eastern Roman Empire. If this continued, it was only a matter of time before they would capture the Holy Land. The king of Jerusalem, Amalric, was able to protect his lands with the strategic planning he followed, but what about his heir?

All these ideas led Manuel to set his sights on Egypt. By uniting with the Kingdom of Jerusalem, they could lead a joint invasion of Fatimid Egypt, or at least weaken their power. Thus, Manuel took the first step towards political rapprochement by sending an envoy to Amalric, the King of Jerusalem at the time.

The Latin King was happy with his alliances. Although he knew that Manuel was not qualified to rule, he wanted to make the Holy Land impassable by adding Byzantine soldiers to his army. This required more than a political alliance.

Amalric knew that the Byzantine King had a daughter who had just turned nine, only a year younger than his son Baldwin, and that their union would be the most logical step towards continuing the Byzantine and Latin lineage.

Even though she was a little girl, Maria was more than just that. She was the princess who carried the blood of the Komnenos Dynasty. The responsibilities that were hidden like a sneaky snake behind her luxurious, rich and fairytale-like life had already begun to inject their poison into the little princess's childish soul to celebrate the arrival of the right time. While the sons of noble lineage were trained to ascend to the throne and rule their country, the most ruthless duty fell to the girls. To ensure peace between enemies or alliances, to act as a bridge. Noble girls did not have the innate right to marry the man they loved.

Empress Bertha had also been forced into one of these marriages. Although she had a good marriage with Manuel, she was afraid that her lack of choice would affect her, that she would suffer the effects of the golden collar that her noble lineage had put on her. This was the reason for her tension at dinner. Maria could not understand her mother's sudden reprimands: You don't hold your fork properly, you don't chew your food twenty times, don't get your clothes dirty, why isn't your hair in a braid?

It was obvious to everyone that the queen was not only projecting her anger onto her daughter, but also onto the servants.

The aristocratic families, lords and leading merchants of Constantinople were at the table. Emperor Manuel had asked them to come to his table to give him the good news. After dessert, he stood up and made a toast.

"My dear friends. You did not leave us alone in this beautiful night, I raise my glass to you first," he said and after he raised the glass to his lips, the other people at the table took a sip of their wine. When the Emperor spoke again, Maria was watching her father in surprise.

"As you know, the alliance we have established with the Kingdom of Jerusalem has been going on for years. However, we must protect our lands from the Muslims, prevent their advancement, and strengthen our ties with King Amalric against possible future Turkish threats. When the political strategies of the Latins and the wealth of our empire come together, we will have no obstacles to achieve our goals." The Emperor raised his glass to his daughter and showed how much he trusted her with his gaze, placing an unbearable burden on the little princess' shoulders.

"My dear daughter, the engagement of Princess Maria and the Latin prince Baldwin IV will establish insurmountable bonds between the two Empires and will finally be officially crowned."

Just this morning, the princess who had just left needlepoint class and was playing with her dolls was going to be engaged to Baldwin IV as the future Queen of Jerusalem. It sounded far away. The little girl looked at her mother. Two drops of tears flowed from her eyes and followed their paths down her cheeks and dropped onto the plate in front of her. Promise, engagement, marriage... Bertha was talking about all of them to her daughter. She had promised herself that she would marry the man she loved when the time was right. Even though she was young, Maria realized her mother's shame at not keeping her promise to her. The intensive training she had received since she had reached the age of awareness had turned her into an intelligent princess. She was much smarter than her peers and had a great ability to interpret events. She was also aware that no one would oppose the engagement. This was her fate. The ultimate end of princesses. She had no choice but to appear happy to her mother. She did not want to see her disappointed. She gripped Bertha's hand on the table tightly. The Empress looked at her daughter to understand what she had done and saw the happy expression in her eyes.

"I will be the queen of the Holy Land, won't I, mother?"

Emperor Manuel proudly answered your question that you asked with happiness.

"You will go down in history as the most talked about Empress of Rome and the Latin people." He raised his glass one last time and raised his voice. "Long live our princess!"

Constantinople was the Jerusalem of Eastern Europe. The Hagia Sophia church was the Masjid al-Aqsa of Christianity; the temple where Jesus would come to worship after being resurrected. The dress of the Virgin Mary from the Notre Dame Cathedral, the cross and nails on which Jesus was crucified, presented by the King of Jerusalem during the reign of Justinian, were reminders of his sanctity to the entire Christian world. Therefore, the Hagia Sophia church was deemed appropriate for the engagement ceremony. Of course, when the time came, the place where the relations between the two empires would be formalized was the land of Jerusalem.

That's why an invitation was sent to the land of Jerusalem as soon as possible with various gifts. A treasure chest with fabrics decorated with roses, jewelry, wines that were at least two centuries old...

Maria had begun to see changes in her life after the night her father had given her the news that he was getting married. She had never felt the benefits of her age anyway. However, now the number of lessons had increased, she had to attend banquets, and every evening she had to work on the next day's to-do list.

Maria became increasingly afraid of this marriage. When all her toys were distributed to the poor, her rag doll, which she could hide in a crack in the wall, was now her friend. Whenever she was alone in her room, she would talk to her and play games in her mind.

When her nanny knocked on the door, she would run to the crack and hide it behind the dusty stones of the wall. That's why the baby's white dress soon turned gray. Her dreams about the prince darkened as she saw the color of the dress. In her dreams, the man she would marry turned into a bloodthirsty monster. A monument of arrogance, the whites of his eyes painted red. Now she would wake up crying from her sleep at night. Her nanny would wait by her side, trying to comfort her.

The night she had another of these nightmares, she leaned her head on her nanny's chest and squeezed her arms in fear.

"Nanny, nanny; do I really have to marry the prince? I don't even know him."

"Oh, Maria! You must put this childishness aside at once. Lord Alexios' daughter took her child in her arms at the age of sixteen. Lord Romanos' daughter had just become a young girl on her first night of marriage; she was fifteen. Now you too must prepare for womanhood; stop behaving like a little child."

"They're coming tomorrow, aren't they?" she asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.

The nurse stroked the princess's hair. "They will be here tomorrow. Now rest," she said, and getting up, she laid Maria on the bed and covered her.

There was a normal bustle in the palace. The servants were running, the chefs were preparing the meals from scratch, and Lady Bertha was personally taking care of the palace decorations.

The person who was really affected by this bustle was Maria. While the servants were washing her in a tub full of water with rose petals in it, her nanny and a few seamstresses were trying to decide on her outfit.

While she was getting cleaned up nicely and putting on her clothes, there were noises coming from outside. It was too late. Little Maria was not ready. While they were putting a white silk scarf that was big enough to cover half of her hair on top of the bun they had made from braids, the nanny went to the window, pulling on the skirts of her dress.

"Jesus! Lady Bertha will ruin me."

She looked around then. Then he stopped in front of the maid who was holding the pillow with the crown in her hand and shouted.

"You are not here to be fools! God knows if I had the chance I would have chased you out of the palace long ago!" She took the crown in her hand and looked at it hopelessly. Still, the fire in her eyes did not fade. "I said the crown with the emerald stone."

Maria's awareness of the necessity made her surrender herself completely to what was to come, but she did not want to wear a crown, nor did she want to go down and curtsey to the prince she did not want to marry.

The welcoming ceremony was already over when the princess was ready. Bertha immediately went into her room and scolded first the servants, then the nurse.

"A bunch of idiots who don't take their jobs seriously!" She stormed out of the room and turned to look at her daughter. "Don't come downstairs now. I told them she was feeling a little unwell. She'll come down when it's time for the feast. If you can manage it, that is!"

The banquet table had everything the King of Jerusalem would love. Fresh venison was cooked over a wood fire, mixed with special sauces. Deer farming was not common in Constantinople, so it was brought from far away and placed in the middle on three sides of the U-shaped tables. The fish of the city famous for its sea were not forgotten, of course, they were caught in various ways and flavored with rich recipes. The wines were brought from the palace cellar, selected and served according to the King's taste.

Emperor Manuel watched Amalric's pleasure, so he didn't say much. Bertha was bothered by the queen's attitude towards Baldwin. She acted as if the prince didn't exist, and when Bertha brought up the subject, Queen Maria was quite insincere. She implied, though not directly, that her own children would make much better rulers.

"Baldwin is a very emotional boy. The Latin Kingdom did not survive on emotionalism. Amalric never gave the Muslims and Jews of Jerusalem a chance. He gave them what they deserved, not when it was necessary, but ruthlessly before it was necessary." He looked at his stepson with disdain and smiled falsely. "When Amalric leaves the holy land to Baldwin, it will be a matter of time for the Arabics to win."

Empress Bertha was so irritated by the woman's ambition that for a moment she did not know how to respond. She looked at Baldwin sadly. She could hear the conversation between his and his half-siblings, and the boy's mature demeanor for his age contradicted Queen Maria's.

"I have no doubt that he will make my daughter Maria happy. He is a clever boy and will be a king loyal to the Latin Kingdom," she said.

Meanwhile, Amalric asked about the princess. It had been a long time since she arrived and the future Latin Queen had still not arrived. Of course, he knew that the disrespect was unintentional, but he was not happy with the situation.

The emperor became angry. If he had no concern for strengthening the bond between them, his reaction to her threatening words would have been severe. However, now he saw fit to show his anger to his wife. He shouted and showed his authority. He ordered the princess to come immediately. At this moment, the door of the hall opened and the servant entered and introduced Maria.

Baldwin was suddenly distracted by a conversation with his siblings. Although he was only ten years old, he already had many criteria in mind for his future wife.

When Maria entered with her nanny, Baldwin couldn't believe his eyes. Her cherry lips shining on her skin as white as snow, her cheeks as warm as the land she was born in, her golden hair that the goddess Freya would envy when she saw it... The first thing that came to his mind was, "Is this a fairy?"

When Maria glanced around the room, looking for her future husband, she saw the boy staring at her intently. It had to be Baldwin. What should she think? He was a beautiful boy, she couldn't deny that, but would they get along?

The only couple who didn’t speak during the feast as the conversation deepened was the prince and the princess. Although they didn’t seem to like each other, they were both just shy. Maria followed Baldwin’s movements as he plucked a grape from the table in front of him and put it in his mouth, and when the little prince’s gaze turned to her, she turned her head in displeasure. A lady shouldn’t appear interested in marriage. That would symbolize her simplicity. But the Empress was not pleased with this coldness, and she knew exactly what would attract attention.

“I hope his majesty likes jousting,” she said, raising her voice.

"Of course," the king replied and continued. "The jousting in this city is done on horses, much more brutal. It's exciting."

"I hope one day my daughter and your son will duel each other. I'm sure it will be much more exciting," he said and sipped his wine.

The king could not hide his surprise. He frowned, thinking he had misunderstood.

"Is what I heard true? Does this naive princess know how to use a spear?"

Manuel looked at his daughter with pride. "She is still in the training phase, but she is quite talented. If she is going to be a queen who will make a name for herself in the future, she must be good at everything."

Queen Maria looked at him with a look of disdain. Yet she did not lose her hypocritical smile. "I suppose you take the Turks and Norse as an example."

"Of course. You will take the good aspects of your enemies as an example, so that they will have less leverage against you."

That day, the two betrothed hardly spoke because of the princess's secretive attitude. The prince began to think that he was not loved by his future wife. Until he started playing in the garden. While Baldwin and his brothers were playing in the garden, Maria preferred to stay with the two queens. While they were sitting in the palace garden overlooking the Bosphorus and having an evening tea, the voices of the children reached her ears. She heard how cruel the real children of Queen Maria, whom she deemed worthy of the kingdom, were. When she turned her head and looked at them, they would unknowingly use violence on Baldwin, and then call him a spoilsport so that the little boy would not complain. Even though Baldwin knew how bad they were, he had to get along well. Because Amalric adored his wife and therefore her children.

Maria could not stand it any longer and took the first step to defend her husband. She called out to her nanny, leaned in to her ear and said that she wanted to play with the children. Although her outfit was not suitable for playing with wooden swords, she allowed it in order to escape the princess's insistence.

"Okay, but I'll keep an eye on you, my lady. If you take the slightest hit, I'll bring you to me." The princess raised her eyebrows in a knowing manner. She looked proud. "Agreed," she said and got up from the chair and walked towards the children. In the meantime, the three brothers were arguing with each other. They were claiming that Baldwin cheated, even though he had won the sword race again and again.

Maria suddenly spoke up. "Why don't we do this duel as a group. Two on two."

Theo spoke up without waiting for his siblings. "You're a girl. Why don't you go have dessert and chat with our mothers like a lady?"

Maria replied with a smug air, her tone unmoved. "Is that another way of saying you're scared?"

Theo remained silent. He had nothing to say to Maria, for every word would be returned as a positive answer to the question he had asked.

Maria addressed Baldwin's tutor. William of Tyre was Baldwin's tutor and was always by his side; like a nanny.

"I want a wooden sword!" Then she looked at the three brothers and said, "William will be the referee and swear that the race will be fair."

Of course, her partner was Baldwin. Theo and Niko had taken their places, waiting for William's signal to start. Niko was looking at the princess with hostility. But he didn't know how good the princess was at observation. He had noticed every evil she did while fighting Baldwin.

When the duel began, Maria was swinging her sword with calm but rapid movements. Only when Niko would treat her badly would she defend herself harshly and quickly, taking the little devil by surprise. William of Tyre was one of those who did not like the queen's children, of course. It was a great pleasure to see Maria defeat him. The little brat had started to whine because of the wood that had hit his arm.

Baldwin laughed. "Niko, will you stop that? It doesn't suit you at all."

The moment Maria returned Baldwin's smile, they got closer.

Meanwhile, the two ladies watching them did not agree. Bertha was saying proud sentences about her daughter, and was constantly defending that she was the right wife for Baldwin. But the one who was not happy with this situation was the queen. The fact that her child was defeated by a little girl had stimulated her ambitious side, causing her to finish her glass of wine in one go.

The prince seemed to be inspired by Maria to defeat Theo. Now he had someone else besides William who loved and supported him. Your presence gave him confidence.

The defeat of her second son drove Queen Maria mad and she did not forget to scold William while shouting at the children to go to bed.

The prince and the princess had just found the perfect time to get to know each other, but it was not possible again. But the Empress called Maria and Baldwin to her side as if to oppose the cruel lady of the Latin Kingdom.

"Theo and Niko should listen to their mother, but you have much to talk about. Why don't you take a walk in the garden?"

The queen was angry, but necessity pressed her not to show her true face. She spoke through clenched teeth. The smile on her face was so forced that her facial muscles trembled.

"I almost thought you were against me, Lady Bertha."

"Of course not. It would be impertinent of me to interfere with your own children, but when I consider the blood relationship and the engagement ceremony of the two children, I conclude that my say in Baldwin's case is superior. I am sure you will understand."

The queen smiled and nodded with her uncomprehending personality. Her soul was too filled with arrogance to respond to the empress. Yet if you could hear the voice inside you, you would hear the shrill, mad woman's voice screaming.

Baldwin nodded to his mother-in-law. “Thank you, your majesty. I would like to inform you that your daughter is safe with me.”

Bertha smiled and returned the prince's respectful gesture with a slight bow of her head.

"What doubt is there?"

Baldwin pulled his fiancé by the hand. The two children began to run. They ran and ran until they were out of sight... Finally they came out onto a stone path surrounded by stunted trees. The path ended at the seaside, and it seemed they would have enough time to get to know each other on the path that stretched that far.

The princess avoided being the first to speak. In fact, she followed the rules in this period when neither palace etiquette nor men were given priority. But she was no longer sure of her feelings. Every question she would ask the prince was a step towards getting to know the man she loved. But would the prince be attached to her with the same feelings, she was not sure.

Things were not going so normally for Baldwin either. The reason for his silence could be that the princess did not like him or that he could not speak out of respect. Still, as a man, he had to have the first say.

"Tell me, princess? Are you afraid?"

Maria paused. "I think you can call your fiancé by her name."

The boy stuttered excitedly. "Of course I am, I'm just respectfully..."

Maria cut him off. She seemed pleased that Baldwin was excited around her. She smiled and continued walking. "No, I'm not afraid." She continued walking ahead. Baldwin increased his speed as he got closer to her so that she wouldn't see him smile.

"So when I think of Theo and Niko, you're different from them. That's good."

Baldwin got used to Maria as he was alone with her. He was no longer timid to keep up with her steps. He stopped the princess suddenly by grabbing her arm.

"You know, I was very scared. The first meeting of a couple is very important and determines how they will spend the rest of their lives. My fear was the moment I first saw you..."

Maria was about to hear things from the prince that a nine-year-old child would be ashamed to hear. So she interrupted him with a mocking look. "In which book did you read these words?"

Baldwin could not hide his surprise. He answered, avoiding her eyes. "Actually, it is not a quote from the book, William warned me when I came here."

Maria grinned happily this time. "I guess William likes to talk complicated with you."

While the prince looked at his fiancée with pride, Maria seemed lost in his proud gaze. No matter how quickly the harsh lessons he had been exposed to in his noble life had made him grow up, at the end of the day, she was still a nine-year-old child. Although her mind was well-developed for fancy speech, it would take her a long time to learn how to hide her emotions.

Maria sighed as she looked at the child's glowing skin. "You are so beautiful."

Baldwin was surprised to be the recipient of one of those compliments given to girls. Shouldn't he have thought of it?

"I don't understand, my lady."

Maria, confident, forgetting that she was breaking God's prohibitions, approached Baldwin and put her hand on his cheek and caressed it. Then her hair. As if she were playing with a rag doll.

"I've never seen a boy as beautiful as you. You really do remind me of the Greek gods I've seen in books."

Baldwin took a step back, away from his fiancée. He lowered his gaze and frowned.

"No, my lady. You deserve the compliment. Forgive me for not telling you in time."

Maria was as open and honest as ever.

"I don't care if you compliment me or not. I know you like me but what I said about you is true. You are beautiful."

Baldwin wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed or uncomfortable with the reversal of their roles. Still, he was flattered to be admired so much by his fiancée. The eyes that had looked at him with such admiration had last been his mother’s, and now his future wife’s. How could he ever forget the passion hidden in those eyes that had managed to fit every lake and forest in the world?

“Forgive me for interrupting, my prince, but we must return to the palace now.”

The two betrothed were embracing each other when William suddenly appeared behind them. He was happy that the prince had met such innocent love. That was why their childhood love was sacred to him.

The two children separated but did not let go of their hands as they turned to William. Baldwin held his princess's hand tightly. The night was long and they did not want to spend hours apart from each other.

Baldwin began. "The Empress has given us permission to be alone, Will."

"I understand, your majesty, but that was an hour ago." Then he looked meaningfully at Maria. "It is by your mother, Lady Bertha's order."

The little girl bowed her head helplessly and approved. Baldwin did not let go of his fiancée's hand. "Don't worry, my princess, when we get married, we will never be apart." Baldwin held Maria's hand tightly neither when he went to the queen nor when he entered the palace. But when the time came for them to leave and they went to their rooms, neither of the two children knew that it would be their first and last happy moment.

🌹🌹🌹

Maria stood in the middle of the apse with her fiancé Baldwin, listening to the priest's words from the Bible. Everything was perfect, and miraculous. Their people looked at them with envy. After all, even if they were not heirs, they were upper class people and had to marry men or women they did not want in order to make a deal or have better conditions. Everyone Maria and Baldwin had chanced to see in church was unhappy in some way or had cheated on their spouses, but the prince had held his future wife's hand tightly and promised to be by her side before presenting her with the priestly decorations brought personally from the Pantagrator monastery.

Maria knew how upset the Empress was. She was against political unions. She wanted to believe that her daughter truly loved the prince, but her logic believed that the happiness in Maria's eyes was just a mask she had developed for what she had to do. Yet her only daughter had acquired the most sacred feeling God had ever created at such a young age; what a great honor and a proud opportunity!

The princess raised her head towards the Empress's lodge and looked at her mother. She was aware of the embarrassment she was trying to hide behind her despotic gaze, and she was mature enough to smile confidently so that she would not feel guilty. Although Bertha did not respond to her daughter, she was pleased with her happiness.

At that very moment, little Maria noticed movement on the ceiling and turned her eyes to the seraph fresco. She was looking directly into the princess’s eyes from between her wings; the expressionless face she remembered had been replaced by sadness, and she could have sworn to swear by the two tears that were flowing from her eyes. Of course, it was impossible to hide her surprise at the sight she saw. Moreover, the princess’s reaction had attracted everyone’s attention, and a few curious people had fixed their eyes on the ceiling. They wondered what had affected the princess so much. Or would the sacred temple that Justinian had given to Jesus collapse again?

The priest had to nudge the princess with his words: the dynasty rings would be worn.

The priest presented them with the rings placed on the purple pillow. Baldwin reached for the ring first. The emerald stones, which were the companions on both sides of the diamond, were placed on the gold ring. The details were carved with Nordic shapes. However, when Baldwin put the ring on the beautiful princess, the drops of blood that hit the stones splashed and stained her finger red. The princess first pulled her hand away harshly and then looked back up at the frescoes on the cathedral ceiling. Everyone was surprised, unlike the priest. Because he had also witnessed what the princess saw when she looked at the ceiling. The ceiling was cracking insidiously, blood was gushing out from between the cracks, staining the temple. However, the guests were not aware of what was happening. Even Baldwin, despite being face to face with the princess, did not see or notice anything. He was only saying her name.

"MARIA, are you okay? Maria?"

The half dome almost collapsed on their heads. As the cracks widened, the blood flowing increased in intensity. The blood branching from the stained glass windows prevented sunlight from entering the church. The priest grabbed Maria by the arm and started pulling her away. It was as if red rain was falling on the cathedral. The nobles' expensively woven dresses, their bearskin furs, their crowns decorated with jewels could not be seen because of the blood. Despite this, everyone was calm, continuing to look at the apse. As if they were enchanted, as if everyone had entered a vegetative state.

While Maria was screaming and trying to run towards Baldwin to get him out of this pool of blood, the priest had already taken her to the second narthex. The little princess was struggling and begging the priest to let her go. The priest said that he could not do this, otherwise she would be one of those who drowned in blood.

The priest had finally managed to get out of Jesus' house with the princess. Now they were watching the nobles drowning in blood from afar. The two Houses were dying in agony along with their other nobles. There was not a single drop of blood leaking out. You were wondering what was going on inside, and you were crying out the prince’s name.

The priest tried to calm you down, but as the level of the red liquid seen through the windows increased, your ravings turned into pleas. The priest was begging you to be quiet. It was too late now. For the entire kingdom, for Baldwin.

“Maria! Maria! Maria!”

When she looked up at the sky, she could swear that the sun was practically calling her. Was it a divine call?

"Maria, please wake up, your majesty!"

When she opened her eyes, her heart was beating rapidly. It was hard to breathe as her chest rose and fell violently. She looked around with astonished eyes, straightened up, took the glass her nanny had handed her and drank a few sips of water. One of the maids was trying to clean the drops of sweat running down the girl's neck with a wet cloth.

The nurse asked, "What were you seeing, princess? I called out to you for minutes, but your moans did not stop."

Maria was still in the grip of what she had seen and was having difficulty regulating her breathing. The candles burning in the room, the high ceiling; none of them relieved the feeling of being trapped in a tiny box.

"I must speak to the father."

The nurse stammered. "For a nightmare? That doesn't make much sense. We must not occupy His Holiness unnecessarily."

The little princess stared at the woman and repeated her words harshly. The nanny, not knowing what to do, snatched the glass from the girl's hand and bowed respectfully to her, saying that they could go to the palace priest tomorrow morning after breakfast.

"Not the palace priest! We will go to Hagia Sophia. I am telling you this is important, are you really that stupid!"

This was the first time the nanny had seen the princess behave so disrespectfully. But this did not calm her anger. She clenched her teeth. How dare she criticize her intelligence? What she really wanted was to grab the princess by the arm, shake her, demand an explanation, and then beat her; unless she wanted to die in the dungeons with her skin flayed by the Pope right after doing so. Now all she did was to bow her head, holding the glass in her hand in front of her, and assure her that she would fulfill her request.

In the morning, the Latin Kingdom and the Byzantine Empire took their places at the breakfast table. The food did not only include products grown on the Empire's lands. Sugared almonds, cherries and citrons brought from overseas were another way of showing the guests how rich the table was.

The emperor and the king could not help but talk about their strategies even at the breakfast table. There were political implications and metaphors behind every word they used to describe how happy the entire Empire was about their children's engagements.

The two women, overwhelmed by their husbands' passion for work, had turned the conversation completely to the day they would officially become a family. The Empress turned to her daughter at one point and expressed her displeasure that the food on her plate had still not been eaten. Of course, Baldwin, who was standing right in front of her, could see that Maria was behaving differently.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to go to church after breakfast."

Bertha looked at her daughter.

"what's this all about?"

Maria didn't want to talk about the dream she had. When she glanced at her father, she knew that he seemed to be interested in state affairs. She knew very well how obsessed the emperor was with dreams. He would definitely jump on her and make things worse.

"I just want to do a prayer of gratitude for my engagement."

"No way, you have a geography lesson after breakfast. After that, you will personally announce your engagement as the future king and queen. When you return to the palace, you must attend the banquet."

Maria pressed her lips together. She had no answer to say. The to-do list her mother had given her was endless. Besides, that day was her laziest day. No one but Baldwin had noticed her discomfort at not being able to go to church. She would use her intelligence to save her only love from the situation.

"I thought God's word ruled in Byzantine lands, your majesty."

Manuel stopped talking suddenly and looked at the little boy with a frown. He caught the attention of everyone at the table by banging the rings he wore on his five fingers, each set with a precious stone, on the arm of the chair. Baldwin's accusation was very bold. The tension between the two kingdoms was at its peak now. When Amalric tried to silence his son, the emperor interlaced his fingers at chest level without taking his elbows off the arm of the chair.

He looked very calm. This was an attitude that would never suit the emperor. Everyone knew very well how ruthless he could be.

"Tell me Baldwin, why did you say that?"

Baldwin, unlike the others at the table, was very relaxed.

"I apologize if I was misunderstood, your majesty, I just wanted to express that worshipping the god is much more important than lessons. She is trying to raise the princess in the best way possible, to make her like you, but this should not be a reason to delay her worshipping in Hagia Sophia. I am sure you think the same way I do.

The Latin king was still nervous. Queen Maria was pleased with Baldwin's impudent attitude. She could trick her beloved husband and get him the worst punishment. A good start to discredit his son in his father's eyes.

But the emperor answered the prince with a faint smile on his lips.

"Your apology is a part of your humility, a symbol of your lion-heartedness in defending what you know to be right. Very good Baldwin."

Then he glared at his wife.

"And my dear wife, I do not want to believe the idea that I have not attained the reason of a ten-year-old child."

Then he turned to his daughter.

"What is it that makes you want to go to church so badly?"

The princess lowered her eyes in embarrassment.

"Your Majesty, all I want is to go to church and give thanks. If you will allow me."

"Get ready after breakfast," the emperor ordered.

Maria looked at Baldwin from below and smiled coquettishly in thanks. Baldwin, however, continued to focus on the plate in front of him, without losing his haughty gaze.

When the princess and her servant arrived at the church, the priest was surprised. He had never been here before except on special occasions. Although he was sitting in his office working on state matters, he left his work unfinished. He went down the stairs and approached the princess standing in front of the apse. He was aware of the strangeness in her attitude. Maria was looking at the stained glass windows, the windows where she had witnessed blood choking people. She continued to look until the priest spoke.

"My princess, welcome."

When the princess turned to the priest, she felt uneasy as if her nightmare had come true.

"What brought you here?"

Maria swallowed. "I had a dream, Father Antonio. I wouldn't have come if I didn't think it was a dream worth listening to, but I think it's worth it."

The priest was aware of the fear and despair on the girl's face. He put his hand on her back and guided her to the pews in the nave.

"Come, my child, let's sit down and talk."

In fact, the priest was prejudiced against the girl at first. A little child could have been affected by a terrible dream. What she was going to listen to now could be complete nonsense. But at the end of the day, she was the princess and she had to listen.

Although the priest's face was so gentle when Maria started telling her dream, what she heard later in the dream frightened her. While blood was bad in itself, the fact that there were people drowning in it, and moreover, inside Hagia Sophia...

The priest asked, trying to control his excitement. "Were you among those who drowned in the palace?"

Maria answered, "No," and was about to continue her dream when the priest stopped her.

"No, my child, you don't need to continue because what you saw is just your fears." Even though he didn't want to lie, it wasn't right to tell a little girl what had happened. He had to talk to the emperor directly.

He continued, stuttering as if he knew he was lying. "Now return to your palace, my child. It's normal for you to be worried about the future because of your engagement ceremony, but there's nothing to fear."

Antonio accompanied Maria to the first narthex. No matter how comfortable she seemed, she now knew that the two kingdoms had heavy penances to pay. Moreover, this was much closer to home for the Latin Kingdom. Very soon, problems would arise in the holy lands, and she would be dragged into an impossible path.

Thank God, all these negativities would strengthen the little princess, and her suffering would grow her.

But what really frightened her was the fact that the third Crusade could resurrect.

[ignoblepalm]

The JOJOLands theory: the true riches we found along the way

Introduction

Since I started using this app I figured I should share this theory I came up with on Discord.

Basically, this theory is the assumption that the message of this part will be that true riches are the friendships we made along the way (or something like that). And to achieve that, the main characters will be teaming up with most (if not every) enemy they face along their journey, as Jodio makes his way towards his goal of becoming rich.

I know it sounds like a joke, and it is, but it's not something too far off from what Araki could write, and as new chapters come out I'm slowly leaning towards believing in this theory unironically.

So, why did I think that in the first place? Beyond the obvious joke that I've been making since chapter 1 released last year, we've already seen a few signs that the Jodio Gang (that's the official name btw) will be expanded as the story goes on. This started all the way back in chapter 1, when Jodio (through the narration) explains that just the original three participants of the heist would not be enough to deal with whatever danger they were about to face, or rather, they wouldn't be able to no matter how many people they had with them.

While this phrase is very vague and we still haven't seen the full scope of what he was refering to, I have always interpreted this line as a sign that the team would be growing in the future, in preparation for a fight they aren't aware they can't win. Still, it's very easy to interpret this otherwise, but it's not like we haven't seen it happen already.

This Charming Ally

Something I certainly didn't see coming when chapter 11 came out was that Paco would be suggesting that the gang allow Charmingman to tag along. And even more surprising was the fact that the next chapter starts with them integrating him into the group. Friendship is beautiful!

In this world where mechanisms rule, having valuable connections is an important way to move up in life, and what better way to find those connections than by sharing a common goal? Charmingman gets recruited by the gang because of his knowledge of the lava rock and of Howler's activities, which also tie into his personal goal of finding out what happened to his brother.

To achieve that, they went after the land scriptures owned by Howler in order to gain access to the land and find the origin of the lava rock, but at the point we're at right now, we're not actually too far off from that happening, or at least is seems so. They have already transfered the land ownership, and John Howler's fortune is already slipping from his fingers, so really, how far can they be from reaching Charmingman's goal? And will he continue to be a part of the group after they find out what happened to Mauka?

I know for sure he's not intending to stick around for too long.

While he is working for Meryl Mei Q in their current heist to get the land ownerships from Howler, Charming has already expressed his lack of faith in Jodio's goal of becoming rich. Unless he changes his mind later down the road, I don't find it unlikely that he will be leaving the group for one reason or another after their current mission.

But why would Araki do that? Why introduce another character into the main group just to dump him like Fugo later in the story?

The idea came to me while thinking about Anne, from Stardust Crusaders. Y'know, the little girl who follows the crusaders around for a while, starting at the Dark Blue Moon fight? I was thinking about how interesting it would be to have a story where the cast is made up of characters that join the group for a while before leaving it some time later. And that's when it clicked to me, that maybe, Araki could actually pull that off in The Jojolands.

Given the progression of the story and its structure, it could be very interesting for Araki to explore a group of characters which is constantly changing to adapt to every mission they're assigned to do, every new member bringing a new speciality to the table that could be useful for the next situation. That way, he could make it so every enemy joins the main group without making it bloated, as they would leave whenever they reach one of their goals, or perhaps for some other unexpected reasons.

There's not much concrete evidence for that ever happening beyond what I already mentioned, but there is one more case that could indicate this theory might become true.

Lulu & Bobby Jean

At first glance, it's probably hard to imagine any reasons for any of these two to join the main gang, especially since we know they were hired directly by Howler, but the last chapter has given us some insight into their relationship that changed the way I percieved the two:

This scene tells me that Lulu has lost her trust for Bobby Jean, after not only having her fiial love for him rejected but also his weird talk of beating his own children, which I'm sure she hasn't taken lightly. I'm not sure if it's just me, but it almost feels to me as if Araki is trying to paint her in a more sympathetic light. Why so? You probably already guessed.

From there, I don't think it's too much of a reach to say Lulu could be the next one to join the Jodio Gang. She knows that Howler is after the lava rock, so she could be the one to warn that to the group, and maybe even give them some more insight into what Howler's been up to. We also know she's a needy child, so maybe she has something to win from helping the gang achieve their goals.

Maybe I'm just crazy, but I feel like the position she's in could be very convenient for the gang, and if she does end up joining them, I think we'll be close enough to saying we have a pattern going on.

Conclusion

At this point you've probably pieced together what this all has to do with the message of "the real riches were the friendships we made along the way": by teaming up with others on his way to his goal Jodio slowly realizes that the reason he was unsure of his ability to find his own happiness was because he had never before tried to share precious moments with others. By understanding that he is finally able to become happy with all the friendships and connections he made, leading to his ascension to a higher plane or something idfk honestly this all just one big joke. I'm sorry.

It's definitely too early to come up with any theory as big as this one, but I just thought this joke of a theory was worth sharing enough after the last chapter. I'm not expecting this theory to come true, and I know it's corny as hell, but if it does come true it'll be hella funny.

Thanks for reading I guess. I hope you find the idea equally as funny and interesting as I do. Can't wait to see what Araki will end up actually doing.

[sophaeros]

the strokes for hmv, oct-nov 2003 / issue 134

The Strokes' second album is filled with even more firm conviction and determination than their debut, which attracted attention and became a hot topic all over the world. I want you to listen to this sound and this melody as soon as possible. You will feel their conviction.

Unwavering. The Strokes' latest and second album, "Room on Fire," is firmly imprinted with the unwavering way that The Strokes are. In other words, it is a work that clearly shows that The Strokes' perspective on what expression is has not wavered since their debut. The strength of their conviction is striking, and my trust in this band is only increasing. In addition, the song development has become more innovative, yet they have not lost the naturalness that makes them easy to listen to as "good songs." No matter how many times I listen to it, I never get bored and it gets me excited. Every sound is surprising, and I grow to love the fact that these sounds, these melodies, and the lyrics were created. It's so lovely that I can't even find anything to compare it to.

After listening to this new work, I want you to listen to the debut album again. What should become clear is that their debut album had neither the hype nor the nostalgic perspective that has often been used to criticize them. Tell that to those who call them revivalists. The seriousness of these five members, who continue to experiment with how to express the spontaneous worldview of a song in a performance without excess or deficiency, is what led to the overwhelming melodies, sound textures, and overall image of that debut album. And on this second album, that aspect has been further refined. "I think that no matter what kind of band you are, you should never lose your objectivity towards yourself. You always have to keep in mind what is wrong and what is right. When you tour, you see all those different things. And when you tour, you often rediscover songs in that sense. The more you practice, the closer you communicate with the band, and the more you understand how to communicate. We capture those different aspects on tape when we record. All the different moments we've experienced up until now were all used in the recording." (Fab Moretti: Ds) 

Saying this, Fab shows a friendly smile. After touring, every day passes, and what you gained and the gaps you didn't gain are all reflected in the sound. In recent years, rock has forgotten that "expression" is a reflection of the way you live. However, they have a strong will to change themselves, which bands who are eager to pursue intentional "change" have overlooked. They rely on what comes from within themselves and spin their sounds. The result is this wonderful latest work. The Strokes' appearance was not a revival of rock. Rather, I think they were instrumental in spreading the self-sacrificing seriousness of "rock expression" to people of all ages and genders. "Our goal is always to make the song sound as comfortable as possible when it reaches our ears. We have never compromised on that point since our debut. Even painters don't think about how they want to be received when they use certain colors or paint certain pictures, they just paint as they like. It's the same thing." (Fab)

It is clearer than ever that this band is not "Julian and friends," but that the five members' personalities and keen sensibilities for sound interact to create a thrilling sound. Listen to the guitars of Albert and Nick, the bass of Nikolai, and the drums of Fab separately. It is a masterpiece that is both lovable and dignified, so much so that you want to scoop up every little bit of what each person is trying to do and embrace them.

Text by Nami Imozawa

[littlemetalbiter]

"Johnny ruined Randall", yes, in the sense that he definitely took advantage of Randall's desire to be one of the 'cool kids'.

But at a certain point, Randall was just as responsible for the places and positions where he ended up in life.

Going back to his college days, Randall was so concerned with being accepted by those in power among the student body that even though he had formed a promising friendship with someone who was genuinely nice and treated him well, the moment that he was offered popularity, it took very little else for Randall to decide to ditch Mike for Johnny's group.

Which implies (imo) that there was, inherently, already something in Randall's personality that had some propensity to value fame over friendship once he had such an opportunity more or less handed to him.

I think Johnny got a sense of how impressionable Randall was (for lack of a better term) and decided that it would be easy enough to bolster ROR's ranks with a unique skill on their side (i.e. Randall's power of very impressive camouflage). And, as an added bonus, this took something valuable away from the 'loser side' that he so very much wanted to see not only falling behind but failing as hard as possible.

Who's to say that, if it wasn't Johnny & ROR, something or someone else down the road very well may have drawn Randall away from Mike anyway?

Though, to make matters worse, Randall also proved to have a very spiteful quality beneath his initial friendly demeanor. He singled out Sulley out of OK because Sulley was the one he was facing up against, one on one, at the time that he was made a fool of not only to ROR but to the entire spectating student body. That spite then fuels him, not only through college, but through all of his life thus far.

It's a weakness, though, in a sense. Randall is very clever and capable and he could be doing anything with his life... yet he apparently is ultimately only interested in devoting his time and energy towards sabotaging Sulley in whatever way he can.

And if he was such good friends with Johnny and cared so much for him for so many years... why did he just bail and disappear rather than continue to stick with Johnny when things went south?

It's because Johnny couldn't help Randall get what he wanted anymore.

Their friendship was always founded on how much one could use the other to their own selfish benefit and thus it never really had a solid foundation to stand on in the first place.

Johnny was very good at creating an air of warmth and welcomeness to those he wanted to use for his own benefit, but that would quickly turn cold the moment he no longer found them sufficiently useful. And if Randall couldn't methodically manipulate someone into being on his side, then he could often scare/intimidate them into it.

Even back in college, Johnny seemingly loses much respect and any fondness he had for Randall the moment that Randall has one fuck up that sets Johnny back. Not long after this, Randall is no longer seen with ROR and Johnny is unhesitatingly offering his spot to the next most useful student on campus.

They weren't best friends. They never really cared much for each other below the surface. Each had an admiration for the qualities in the other which promised to help them further their own goals. But a good friendship is not founded, first and foremost, on how far someone can help you get ahead in life.

Even if they had ended up bonding while working together, there were always cracks that were inevitable to grow between them because the foundation of their friendship was still so insincere.

[thedreamlessnights]

Liability - pt. 1

Astarion x NB!Tav

Synopsis: Two hundred years after being sentenced to prison by a corrupt magistrate, Arden is abducted by a nautiloid and subjected to a tadpole insertion. Little do they know, that very magistrate is on the same ship - and shares their uncomfortable affliction.

Warnings and tags: Brief mentions of violence and death. This fic follows the events of Baldur’s Gate 3, so there will be spoilers. Enemies to Lovers, Barbarian!Tav, Drow!Tav, Multi-Chapter, Upcoming NSFW.

Word Count: 2k

It all starts with burning sand and a mouthful of salt water. 

Arden hasn’t seen the beach before, but the taste of it on their tongue is not a welcome one. It’s rancid. Raw. Stinging at the cut on the inside of their cheek. Long after they’ve spit it out, it lingers. 

Everything does. 

The throbbing of their head, the persistent squirming of that thing behind their eye. Even the grit of sand won’t seem to come off of them. It’s like every terrible sensation has been taken in and amplified by ten. 

Everything aches as they move, stumbling to their feet, taking in the sights around them. The flaming remains of the ship. The deep, clear water. The distant greenery.

Well, Arden thinks, giving a bitter, half-smile that no one is around to see. At least I’ve learned something new about myself. 

They give one last glance toward the shore then set off, a mantra echoing through their thoughts.

I fucking hate the beach.

If things were different, joining with a worshipper of Shar would be insanity. 

Shadowheart may act as though it’s private information, but her loyalties are as clear as day. A follower of darkness. A pawn for the lady of loss. The presence of Shar is like a shadow that never fades - a wound that never heals - and Arden knows it. 

Still, they’ve never been in less of a place to discriminate. The two of them have tadpoles in their brains, after all. They know each other from the ship. Shadowheart seems to trust them after being freed from that horrific pod. 

Given the circumstances, this is the best either of them can manage, and Arden is certainly not about to complain.

So here they are. Wandering through the landscape together, a quiet but implicit trust placed between them. A common goal, intertwining their fates. 

Are there more? Arden finds themself thinking. Are there more like us?

If the number of pods on the ship was any indicator, then there must be. The gith might be out there somewhere. Others, too. How many souls are wandering about, counting down the time until they’ll be changed into monsters? 

Arden doesn’t even want to know. The further they get from this place, the better, but the circumstances aren’t making it easy. It’s blazing hot, and the headache that’s been there for hours is only getting worse. 

Splitting. Throbbing.

It’s the reason they nearly miss the disembodied arm coming out of the rock, waving around in the midst of swirling purple light as if that’s a perfectly normal thing to do.

“Hello?” a voice says, accompanying the arm. “A hand? Anyone?”

It’s likely not a good idea to touch a random hand in a magical rock, but, with the day they’re having, Arden is long past that. They let out a sigh and reach out, taking hold of the hand and giving a sharp pull. 

It doesn’t work. 

For one, their palms are embarrassingly sweaty, and the voice on the other side isn’t exactly helping. Then there’s the matter that whoever is in there is almost… held back. As if he’s being continually sucked in while they’re trying to get him out.

“Harder! Come on, put your back into it!” the voice calls. 

Arden has half a mind to let him go and walk away, but they don’t. Instead, they grit their teeth, tighten their grip, and yank. The arm loosens but still doesn’t give.

“Ow!” the voice says. “Careful!”

“Here,” comes Shadowheart’s voice, somewhere behind Arden. “I’ll help.” She steps closer, grabs onto their arm, and nods.

“On three,” Arden says. “One, two…”

Three. 

The two of them give a heave, and the next thing Arden knows, they’re on their back in the dirt, and their ribs are being crushed by whoever was in that rock.

“Hells,” they mutter, squirming, lungs increasingly aching for air. “Get off!”

The weight above them shifts, then lessens. “Ah - apologies,” the man says, quickly getting to his feet. “As is likely obvious, that didn’t go as expected.”

He offers them a hand up, and they take it. Their ribs only ache a little now, but they scowl at him all the same. 

The man simply smiles in response, taking in a breath as he briefly surveys the surroundings. “Gale of Waterdeep,” he finally greets, holding out a hand again. 

He’s handsome, which isn’t something Arden ought to be noticing in times like this. Long brown hair, grey streaks, dark eyes. 

A bad idea, they think.

Which, unfortunately, has never stopped them before.

“Arden.” They quickly shake his hand, and he has the decency to avoid grimacing at the sweat on their palm. If only it wasn’t so bloody hot out.

“Arden,” he says, his smile widening. “Pleased to meet you. Thank you, by the way. For a moment there, I thought that place might be the end of me.” 

He pauses, and something flickers in his eyes for a moment. “Say - but I know you, don’t I? You were on the nautiloid as well.”

Arden thinks, for a moment, back to the horror of the ship. The pods, and the terrified faces trapped inside of them. The fear. The smell of rot and blood in the air. There had been so many of them, and it had all gone by so quickly…

“I was there,” they manage to reply, grimacing. “Shadowheart, too. We both received the, er, insertion.”

Gale frowns. “As did I. A rather unwelcome procedure, if I may say so. I take it you know what this ‘insertion’ will do to us, left untreated?”

Arden huffs. “That it’ll turn us into mind flayers, you mean? We’re aware. We were looking for a healer before we found you.”

“Were you?” Gale asks. “A strong course of action, and… perhaps the only one, in our case.” He hesitates. “What would you say to us working together? We could lend each other a hand again, so to speak.” 

Arden shares a glance with Shadowheart, fighting the urge to chew on the inside of their cheek. Shadowheart simply raises her brows, looking neither opposed nor in favor of Gale’s proposition.

“Alright,” Arden answers, shifting from one foot to the other. “I don’t see why not. If I’m honest, we need all the allies we can get.”

“Excellent,” Gale says. “You won’t regret it, if I can help it. Shall we proceed?”

And just like that, they’ve become a group of three.

Arden is just thinking that the day might turn out alright when everything falls apart.

Gale is a chatterbox, but his words are a welcome distraction from the horrific spiral of their thoughts. Shadowheart’s snark has them smiling, and even the sun’s brutality has let up.

They’ve all agreed to end one another should one of them begin to turn, but it’s clear none of them want to resort to that if they can avoid it. Who would? 

Aside from the occasional squirming, the tadpole is silent. Arden isn’t sure whether or not that’s a good sign, but they don’t feel like a monster. Not yet, at least.

And then Arden sees him.

It doesn’t come together at first - the sight of him. It’s like a word out of reach on their tongue, a riddle they can’t quite solve. Their strained mind can’t put the picture together, even though all of the pieces lay at their feet.

White hair. Pale skin. Something is off, not quite right. Something is familiar, but it’s not what it was. He looks them in the eye without a hint of recognition and waves them closer. 

“Hurry,” he says, his voice pressing, almost frantic. He looks out toward the nearby field, then points into the distance. “There, in the grass. I’ve got one of those brain things cornered. You can kill it, can’t you?”

And it finally clicks. 

His face. His voice.

It can’t be, they think, dizzy with something that’s somewhere between blinding fury and complete elation. The man responsible for the life they’ve lived for the last two hundred years is standing right in front of them. For a moment, they’re searching for his name, and then - it’s there.

Astarion.

“Well?” he asks impatiently. “Can you kill it or not?”

There’s a beat of stunned silence. Then they lunge at him.

Everything becomes oh so loud in the chaos, the blissfully rageful animal that Arden has become. Ears ringing, their heart pounding in their chest, the impact as the two of them hit the ground. The scrape of the dirt against their knees. They manage to get in one good punch to his face, and he yelps.

“Gods damn it!” he exclaims, fighting to get a dagger out of its sheath on his belt.

“Arden!” someone is yelling. “Arden, what in the hells are you doing?”

There’s a swift, sharp tug - a yank around their waist that knocks the wind straight out of them. Then they’re on their knees in the dirt, and a mace is at their throat.

“I don’t want to use this,” Shadowheart says, her voice trembling with something that might be anger. “But I will. If you’re turning.”

Arden finds themself trembling, bleeding and furious, barely able to think. “I…” 

Their voice breaks, and they ball their hands into fists, sucking in a breath to calm themself. How the hells are they meant to explain? 

“Gods,” Astarion hisses, stumbling to his feet, smoothing out his wrinkled clothes. “What in the hells is wrong with you?”

If Gale and Shadowheart didn’t look two seconds away from killing them, Arden would attack him again. “I’m not turning,” they insist as calmly as they can, keeping their gaze on Shadowheart. “I swear.”

For a moment, Shadowheart just studies them, internally debating. Then, finally, she lowers the mace. 

“Tell me,” Astarion snipes, stepping a little closer. “Do you always do that to people in need?

His words are too much. Too ironic. Arden stares up at him, fuming, digging their fingers into the dirt so they don’t do something stupid. “And how do you treat people in need, Astarion Ancunín?” 

Their words take him off guard. His eyes widen and he steps back, his gaze turning analytical as he looks them over.

“I… Do we know each other?” 

They grit their teeth. “Yes. We do.”

But his face is blank. As they stare at him, they swear they can see fear in his eyes, but... nothing else. No recognition.

Gods. His eyes. 

Arden is absolutely, positively certain that they’d been blue before. Blue. But they’re a dark, glimmering red now. If they didn’t know better, they’d say he was a vampire. But he’s in the sun. If he’s truly a vampire, he’d be burnt to a crisp now.

“Really?” he asks. “My deepest apologies, but it seems I’ve, erm… forgotten?” 

They stare at him in sheer disbelief. Gods. He doesn’t even remember?

“Forgotten?” they ask sharply. “Interesting. And here I was, wondering how you’d managed to live with yourself after what you’d done. Do you forget everyone you’ve hurt, Astarion?” 

Something flashes in his eyes. “Tell me who you are,” he spits.

Arden pushes to their feet, shaking, towering over him. “You were the magistrate for my case. Ten years in prison. I was innocent, but you didn’t care. Don’t you remember?”

They’re looking for their words to spark more anxiety in him, but - rather strangely - they seem to do the exact opposite of that. All of the tension bleeds out of his face, and he lets out a small, surprised laugh.

“Gods,” he says, relief palpable in his voice. “You’re angry over that?” 

Arden doesn’t have any time to feel rage. Their tadpole squirms in their brain with a vicious intensity and a sharp, blinding pain, buckling them over.

Something flashes through their vision. Something that does not belong to them, forced unwillingly into their mind. Dark, familiar streets of the Lower City, but their limbs are not their own. Their actions, even their thoughts, all belong to the man in front of them.

There, he’s thinking. If I could just-

And then the memory is gone.

In the aftermath of the fading image, Arden suddenly feels as though they’ve lost something they’ll never quite get back. They stare at Astarion: similarly wide-eyed, two fingers pressed to his temple - and suddenly understand.

He has the tadpole, too.

[alexandriaisburning]

+002: The Problem with “Good Game Design”

Addendums, Archives and Appendecies is extra, off topic writing in addition to the regular CANON FIRE entries. You can support more writing like this on Patreon.

In games we have a tendency to try and solve everything, to get the optimal, most ideal solution. Sometimes that transfers to how we approach criticism too. There’s an idea that game design is an art that can be perfected, an art that we can test and measure until we’ve achieved perfection. 

A million game design essays and industry post-mortems will have you believe that every year we are getting closer to the platonic ideal of the medium. That we make continued progress towards the unspoken agreement of what games should look like. 

This is where we get what I call “prescriptive game criticism”. 

Prescriptive game criticism goes in with a predisposed set of ideas for what makes a good game. It looks to fit the object of critique into its framework, rather than fit the framework to the object. It overlooks the context and application of why certain choices were made, and the context they were made in. 

A prescriptive approach might take the design choices of a successful game, and turn them into lessons to be applied in making other games, or hold them as a standard to judge other games by. It might observe the way one game builds a world makes it successful, despite its simple combat, and see the depth of another game’s combat system, and so naturally combining both would make the ultimate game. Right?

There’s nothing inherently wrong with this sort of theorycrafting, and it’s easy to see why it’s so popular. It’s entertaining, and often even useful, and it gives us a sense that we’re coming to a greater understanding of a medium we love. But often this rigid approach turns into a rulebook of good and bad design, a checklist you use to judge work on terms you’ve already decided on before you started, removed from context and content. 

These approaches often unknowingly replicate underlying ideologies. Even a simple statement like “games should award skillful play” dismisses a huge swathe of games and can reinforce flawed ideas of meritocracy. Look at the way that people consider skill at videogames to be a prerequisite for having opinions on them. Or the way the fighting game community will often tell you to settle arguments in a first to three, as if your skill means more to your legitimacy than the content of the argument. 

If that still feels like a reach, let’s take a look at the concept of “flow”, which is often used as a measurement for positive engagement and game balance:

As defined by psychologist Mikhail Csikzentmihalyi, flow is a state in which people are so involved in an activity that nothing else seems to matter, achieved when the goals are clear, and there is balance between the difficulty of the task and the skills of the person doing them. 

It sounds like game design 101, right? In fact, you’ll find Csikzentmihalyi’s work cited all across game design essays and post-mortems, with many words written on how to induce this state through game design. Jenova Chen, designer and founder of thatgamecompany, even named a game after Flow, and designed an accompanying system to dynamically adjust difficulty, directly citing Csikzentmihalyi’s principles. 

Chen specifically draws from the argument Csikszentmihalyi makes in Flow: The Psychology of the Optimal Experience, his most cited work. But for such a frequently invoked argument, the rest of the book presents a disturbing picture. 

Csikzentmihalyi presents flow with the framing of a self-help book, as a positive force that can enrich all points of life, as almost a moral good. Among the examples he uses to prove his argument range from the obvious--chess, listening to classical music, playing sports--to the absolutely bizarre--like parenting, factory labor, or even homelessness. No exaggeration.

So if inducing a flow state is a measure of good design, does this mean society is well designed? Wealth inequality?

Incredibly, Csikszentmihalyi seems to believe so! As the book continues he veers into an argument that we should dispense with moral relativism and embrace absolute judgements of which societies are best, with Western society of course being the model, thanks to its meritocratic structure allowing the most opportunity to achieve flow states, and therefore happiness. Even those on the bottom rung can achieve flow here, and those who can’t are simply broken and shouldn’t be factored into the equation. 

Again, this is no exaggeration. If anything, I left out a lot of other examples that I found more distasteful. 

It’s not as if these underlying ideas haven’t made it into people’s work either. The psychological work done on flow has been used to create exploitative games, and to gamify labor and education to replace real satisfaction with a drip feed of short term rewards, and arguably even influences our interactions with social media. 

I say this not because I believe everyone using the term “flow” is cosigning some conservative cultural clash, but to illustrate the assumptions that go unchallenged when we adopt a framework without consideration. 

“Good design” sometimes doesn’t look much different than exploitation, and many effective works directly clash with traditional ideas of what a good game looks like. Descriptors like “depth” or “immersion” frequently exclude more feminine modes of play, like dress up or socialization games, which can be rewarding in other ways. Or shut out games that intentionally introduce friction to make it intentionally unpleasant to engage with. 

I think fondly about Fatale, the most dreadful, boring 40 minutes I’ve ever spent with a game. It’s nothing but slow movement between points, observing tableaus and reading Oscar Wilde quotes. And yet, years later I still remember it, and the powerful impression it left on me. 

Had I been given more freedom to explore the environments and set my own pacing, the whole thing would have fallen apart. The lack of agency, the dreadful atmosphere of the aftermath, IS the point. Fatale strains against our expectations and desires, and it's that friction that gives it thematic weight. Or makes it a total waste of time for you. 

Once you begin to break down the assumptions that we’ve made about “good game design”, it kind of breaks the idea that there’s an objective measure for the quality of a game. Which means we have to accept that something that works for us, might not land at all for others, and vice versa.

So if we throw away those prescriptive ideas of what a good game looks like, what’s the alternative?

For me, I like to approach games with what I call a “descriptive” lens to criticism. To be clear, I don’t want to present yet another dichotomy, between the good and bad games crit. Rather, a descriptive approach is one that I think of as widening the angle from a narrow viewpoint to capture a work’s context, intentions, and even our own personalities and worldview. 

It requires us to take a look at what a work is doing, why it makes certain decisions and decide if it achieves them within its context and constraints. Or if we even agree with those choices. There are many games I would have enjoyed more if they were designed differently, but that doesn’t mean they’ve fundamentally failed because of it. 

To move this out of the realm of the abstract, let’s return to one of those games traditionally excluded from ideas of good game design. Girl’s Fashion Shoot is one of those “games for girls” that are often outright dismissed in conversation. This one in particular lacked a recognizable brand, and was published by a small, niche publisher, and its existence unrecognized by most people. Curious, I played it myself, and I found an interesting cultural connection to a real Japanese teen fashion magazine--hastily scrubbed out of its English release--and found myself challenged by my personal lack of knowledge of fashion styles and movements. It had me thinking about the way I presented myself both physically and digitally. 

Structurally and mechanically, the game presented next to no challenge, handing you the tools to success immediately, pushing you forward only with the promise of access to more items you could use to express yourself. Yet it still compelled me, and gave me plenty to chew on emotionally and intellectually. 

Working within a descriptive mode means opening ourselves to moments like this, putting aside the ideas we project onto games about what they should be, and looking at what they have on offer, whether they present it with a clear or compromised vision. Ask yourself, what is this work attempting, and are the choices it makes on its journey successful? Look at how it frames itself, what it chooses to include and exclude in its aesthetic presentation. What does it give you control over, and where does it take it away? What worldview does it present, intentionally or not? And how does that collide with our own?

Art can inspire a spectrum of thoughts and emotions, often joyous, but often miserable, terrifying and painful. Chasing a singular idea of “good game design”, one that centers fun, flow states, or mechanical complexity and reward, can rob us of the catharsis of something that challenges us in other ways, that pushes back on us. Sometimes the work of criticism means not only looking at the piece in front of you, but the reflection of ourselves presented within it. 

If videogames are truly an interactive art, we need to accept that not only can we influence it, that it can influence us. We need to accept that games are a conversation between us and the work that people have labored to put in front of us. And that means not only speaking about the work, but listening to what it has to say to us. 

[crescentbea02]

"Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me" pt. 1 (Timeskip!Oikawa x fem! reader)

Tropes: second chance romance, long distance, friends to lovers, right person wrong time, ex-relationship,

Summary: In which Oikawa Tooru finds himself forecefully reviving memories in a flight for Japan, in hopes to reecounter with the one person that has him on a chokehold even after six years apart.

Part 1: here

ハイキュー

Some say that time heals all wounds. That the hands of the clock smooth the skin, that spread peace over our body, the peace of passing time. Saying goodbye to our phases, living in peace with what we once were, with what we once had.

Oikawa was a firm believer in that. He was a strong person, he had always been a strong person. A person too strong for this world, who seemed to take whatever trick the universe played on him. He didn't think anything else was going to make him collapse to the ground other than his ambitions. Or rather the lack of them.

His ambitions, his goals, his dreams were always in the first place for him. That was why so many girls had already dumped him for it. For being in a constant competition between them and the great love of his life, volleyball.

Oikawa always wanted more, he always wanted to go higher. He was a wild horse without dominance. A current of a winter wind. He was never satisfied. He always wanted more and more. And if for that he had to be alone, without serious commitments to any person, no matter how much he liked her, he would do it.

That was what he thought until he met Y/N.

“Tooru” a voice sounded.

An empty suitcase on top of his bed was enough to make his heart sink. The boy, now twenty-five, turned towards the doorway of his room. A small smile painted his face when he saw Emma, ​​his current girlfriend, in his doorway.

She looked at the mess of clothes, sneakers and towels on top of the player's bed with a mischievous smile.

“What is going on?” she asked, walking into the room with a raised eyebrow.

What wasn't going on would be easier to answer.

Over the years, Oikawa has shaped itself on its own terms. He continued to fight, to work, until he ended up where he was now. An Olympic champion, playing for the Argentine national team, with so many trophies that not even the shelf could fit. It was what he deserved, after so many years of being spurned, if there was one thing he deserved was that. Now he had Emma, ​​a beautiful model he had met at a company conference, in his life. The two were fine, there were no arguments or dramas, no crying, no passion.

But how unfair was the world, he still was not satisfied.

“I look so good in so many clothes that I can’t seem to decide which ones to take” he gave her one of his playful smiles, those smiles that everyone complained about how annoying they were.

Every piece of clothing strewn across the bed seemed to be a reason why his heart was squeezing with every minute that brought him closer to the moment he would land in Japan. Argentina was his home now, but part of his heart would always be buried in Japanese soil. Mainly because of all her favorite people who lived there. But he hadn't visited him for a couple of years, and the times he did go it was just for a few days to spend time with his family. Oikawa had games to win, training to do, in Argentina.

Imagine his surprise when his national team coach announced a supposed season in a foreign country for one of the players. All eyes were on Oikawa, and he quickly felt his heart drop when he realized that they would be spending some time in Japan to train for the 2021 Olympics. some time in the country, even if it was a thank you gift for Oikawa's effort.

Such news led Oikawa to immediately call Iwaizumi, who pretended to be extremely irritated with the fact that, very possibly, he had to put up with his friend in all his training sessions, teasing his players and upsetting everyone. The thing Oikawa knew how to do best in addition to his services. But he knew that Iwaizumi would be happy to see him. He always was, despite trying to hide it.

This ended up causing Iwaizumi to send him some high school photographs that he had found in the bedroom of his old house.

And one of them was the same one he kept in his bedside table drawer. Another reason why the various relationships he had in Argentina did not last long.

A picture of him and his high school girlfriend. Y/N L/N. What for many was seen as a puppy love, for Oikawa it had been much more than that. It had been proof of how his ambitions would always trump the person he was with. Even if he loved that person even more than he loved himself.

It looked like she haunted him. From the moment he left on that plane, she had never left his mind. No matter how hard he tried to get her to leave.

“Let me help you choose” Emma smiled, with her sweet smile that lit up an entire room. He approached the bed full of clothes and began to choose the clothes that Oikawa liked the most, and that best suited him “Look, these ones will look good with you in Japan. Don’t forget it’s cooler there” she held a sweater and struck him with her playful eyes.

Oikawa laughed.

“I just wish I could take everything” he said, in a nervous tone “Japan is my home, but Argentina slowly also became it.” he took one of his favorite jeans and fold them along with Emma “I’m afraid it will be those situations when you feel like nowhere feels at home anymore.”

“It won’t be” Emma answered, on her usual serene, mature and understanding voice "Some people don't even have one home. Be grateful that you belong to two places at the same time. If you don’t have one, you always have the other”

That wasn't really what worried him. After all, Oikawa had always believed that his home is what he made it.

What worried him was the deliberate choice he was going to make, which was to talk to someone who had been his home after six years of not even saying a word to her. But even so, he still felt her inside him.

And it was his fault, no one else's.

When the fateful day of the trip arrived, Oikawa didn't know if he loved or hated airplanes.He always loved space. He loved anything that did not have limits. But he hated feeling helpless. At any moment the plane could crash, and he wasn't going to be able to do anything about it.

With his head leaning against the window, he looked up at the starry night sky. That sky that reminded him so much of his youth. He thought about what would happen when he saw his friends again. He knew nothing ever changed, but it still made him a little nervous to imagine awkward silences and not the chaotic energy that used to happen whenever they met.

And he kept thinking of Y/N.

In his innocent nineteen-year-old mind, in a faraway country, building his future alone, after breaking up with his girlfriend of two years. With the one person who made him question his love of volleyball.

Oikawa chose his dreams over her, and he knew Y/N would never blame him for it. She didn't blame him so much that, even after that, she insisted that they remain friends.

At the time Oikawa thought she had been selfish. If Y/N could perfectly live her life in Japan, talking to him every day, just like a friend, which he no longer could remember what it was like, he couldn't. The distance, the time apart, only made him love her even more. He saw her everywhere he went. As soon as he saw a (y/h/c) hair his heart filled with hope that maybe it was she, in a sudden impulse of passion, who had come to visit him.

But it wasn't her.

It was never her.

A year went by, and Oikawa couldn't look at any woman he met without thinking about Y/N, how much he wanted her to be with him. How much he should be talking to her on the phone, that she must already be worried because he hadn't said anything in some weeks. Then, they always found that photograph in the drawer. And then they left the house, unintentionally hurt by him.

He thought that time would heal the wounds, that the hands of the clock would soften his skin, that they would spread peace over his body, the peace of passing time. Saying goodbye to his phases, living in peace with what he once was, with what he once had.

Because of this, Oikawa decided to give Y/N a break. And pretend that she didn't exist, or that she never existed. Maybe if he pretended she didn't exist, he would eventually forget about her existence. A decision that now, at twenty five years old, made him want to bang his head on the wall with the stupidity of his thinking.

But, after all, he was only twenty years old. And what does a person know at twenty?

“Good evening, would you like some snacks, sir?” one of the hostesses asked.

Oikawa slowly returned to real life. He took his brown eyes from the window and faced the hostess with a smile.

“Some milk bread, please”

ハイキュー

some silly idea I thought of. i crave for second chance romance. pt 1 of maybe 3 parts. i hope you liked it <33

[delicatemusickingdom]

Book 1 Part 2 Chapter 1.2

Chapter 1.2

A month passed, then half a year, then a year. 

Norein’s lessons continued. Though her students kept changing, there was never a shortage of them. Though rudimentary, being able to read and write gave the residents of the lower quarter a certain sense of pride and self-confidence. There were many of those who were originally uninterested but were influenced by the change they saw in the people around them and joined her classes. 

The plaza’s lectures have become a usual part of the residents’ daily life in the lower quarter. 

“See you tomorrow, Teacher Norein!”

There was no one who didn’t know her name, not even the children. Before that, they had only known her as the golden-haired mother, or ‘Flynn’s mother’ at best, but now they were familiar enough with her to address her as such. ‘Teacher Norein’. Whether they were in class or not, be they children or adults, they all called her that. Even if she was still prone to falling ill, she was their teacher. She had come to be recognised as such. 

Flynn was Flynn, and he played and worked together with the other children. No one called him ‘the blond guy’, much less the ‘newcomer’. To the younger children he was Big Bro Flynn, a gentle and dependable existence. 

He looked happy. His previous trademark passive stubbornness had vanished, replaced by a cheerfulness that befitted his golden hair. Everyone thought that was his true nature, and it looked to be true. 

Both Norein and Flynn treated the residents as their neighbours and friends. They were able to do that. Similarly, the residents treated them as one of their own. After a year, the mother and son had finally become part of the lower quarter. They were no longer foreign strangers. Though occasionally they would reveal their difference in values and practices, people only saw it as one of their quirks. 

Though Flynn could get easily along with anyone no matter who they were, his attitude towards Yuri remained the same. He never stopped fighting with Yuri — not just about their sword, but also over even the most trivial of matters. Yet, for some reason, it had never led to the point where they would truly sever their relationship with each other. No matter how much they swore or cursed at each other, the next day they would act as if nothing had happened and do things with each other again. There were times when they stood shoulder-to-shoulder without exchanging a single word. It was as if they shared a common secret that bound them together, and though the people around them often puzzled over it, for the two of them it just felt natural to be that way. 

After a year of practice, Yuri had somehow managed to reach a certain level of mastery in reading and writing. He still struggled with difficult words, but if it was a book whose contents were simple enough, he could read it without issue. It was a decent result considering he was still a child, but he wasn’t satisfied with it. 

The training manual in Flynn’s possession. Yuri’s goal was to be able to read it with ease. If he asked Flynn, there wouldn’t be anything he wouldn’t be able to understand, but if possible, he wanted to read it on his own, without needing any help. Because it was all so he could surpass Flynn. 

In any case, Yuri and Flynn both learned and worked hard together. Especially regarding their sword skills — by being good rivals for each other, they had made rapid progress despite not having a master to teach them. 

There were some among the adults who didn’t like the idea of such young children swinging around a real sword, even if it was for learning purposes, but Jiri and Hanks didn’t make any particular effort to stop them. 

“Because it seems like they’re thinking about it in their own way.” 

Jiri would say that to anyone who went out of their way to inform her, without even glancing their way. 

“In which case, no matter what happens, they’ll end up learning something out of it.” 

In this way the sight of the black-haired and golden-haired boys swinging their swords ceased to attract any special attention, and became a part of everyday life. 

Jareth and the others didn’t share the passion of the two boys. They didn’t have any swords they could swing around in the first place, and they had learnt to have a little bit of caution in their own way. What remained the same was their tendency to run to Yuri whenever anything happened. Except instead of just Yuri, they now had Flynn as an option too. 

Although they felt like they had improved thanks to their training, neither Yuri nor Flynn dared to actually put it to the test. They didn’t have a particular desire to show off, let alone travel to the ‘outside’ to test their skills. 

They still remembered the day of the ‘River Escapade’. The scolding voice that had rained down upon them in the evening glow of the sunset still echoed clearly in their memories. That voice was both a question, and a warning. Although they didn’t have a clear reason for it, the two of them couldn’t bring themselves to defy that voice. 

So while they were itching to try out their sword on something, they had yet to find a use for it. 

****

“The ‘Dark Wings’ made an appearance again.”

“Them again? I did think we haven’t heard about them in a while.” 

“I wonder if those on the ‘other side of the wall’ are making a huge fuss about it.” 

Hearing the ramblings of the adults as he passed by, Yuri lifted his head.

The topic had already moved on to something else, and the person who had mentioned it didn’t pay it any heed. However, a certain scene started to take shape in Yuri’s mind. It was over a year ago, on a moonlit night. A mysterious shadow, standing on the pitch-black rooftops, with the moon and the light of the barrier rings at their back. 

Even though he had never really been able to remember anything before, the image was incredibly fresh in his mind. 

The thief, the ‘Dark Wings’.

From the children to the adults, there was hardly anyone in the lower quarter who didn’t know that name. It was most likely the same on the ‘other side of the wall’. 

Their identity — obviously — and even their gender were unknown, but this mysterious person had a reputation as an exclusively chivalrous thief. It was said that they would sneak into impregnable and heavily guarded mansions, rob them of all their wealth, and use some mysterious means to deliver them to the poor. 

Yuri had no idea exactly how the riches would be delivered, and he had not heard of anyone actually receiving such charity. In the first place, accepting such stolen goods — especially items that clearly belonged to nobles or things that obviously looked like precious treasures — was practically the same as inviting the knights to bring you in for questioning. 

But the person really existed. Yuri had seen with his own eyes how the knights’ faces had paled, and how they had chased after the figure. So perhaps not all rumours were lies. 

In any case, the ‘Dark Wings’ only targeted the nobles and the rich. Seeing the disgusting people from the ‘other side of the wall’ in a panic, and the normally arrogant knights being thrown into confusion because of this person — felt refreshing. Regardless of who the ‘Dark Wings’ truly were, Yuri had a good impression of them. Most of the people in the lower quarter felt the same way. 

But if the person was not a complete fantasy, then there was bound to be a good deal of repercussions. It happened on the same day Yuri had overheard the rumour of the reappearance of the ‘Dark Wings’. 

****

The commotion came in the form of the Imperial Knights. The knights marched into the lower quarter with weapons in hand and armour clanking noisily. When they reached the plaza, they divided into groups of two or three and started interrogating the residents at random, and broke into their houses as well. Apparently they thought that there was a possibility that the thief in question was hiding in the vicinity. 

Doors were broken down and furniture were overturned. But the residents didn’t raise a single protest, and quietly endured it. They knew that was the best way to weather this storm. Even Jiri remained silent, only watching with fire in her eyes as her dishes were swept from her cupboard and smashed onto the floor. 

The children were hidden behind the adults. Most of them did it out of fear of the knights’ violence, but a large number of them were half-forced to do so to prevent them from doing anything stupid for the sake of trying to act smart. They had been gathered at the plaza, surrounded by a ring of adults and told to stay still. 

Yuri was one of them. At that moment, he was standing behind Hanks, who stood still and imposingly like an impenetrable wall, staring at the doorway through which the knights had disappeared into with a piercing gaze. 

That was not ‘My Home’, where Yuri and the other children lived. It was the house of another lower quarter resident. Though right now, the other knights were most likely raiding ‘My Home’. The scene right in front of him wasn’t something that only happened to one particular house, but to all other houses as well. 

He couldn’t see Flynn, but he had to be at home by his mother’s side. 

Occasionally they would be able to hear sounds of what was happening inside; sounds of something falling to the ground, or at times, sounds of something shattering into pieces. Each time the adults and children would stiffen, but no one dared to speak, and they stood still and continued to wait patiently. 

This was not the first time something like this had happened. Though it wasn’t a common occurrence, it was beyond a doubt a disaster in their eyes. And as Yuri and the other children matured, their resentment only grew stronger. 

“But man, this house really is filthy. How can you even live in a place like this?” 

“Yeah. In a place like this, it’s a waste of time no matter how long we search. Let’s go on to the next one. I want to finish this quickly and head back.” 

The knights came out, brushing the dust off their armour. When he heard their words, Yuri unconsciously took a step forward.  

“Ya better not.” 

A quiet but clear voice stopped him in his tracks. It was Hanks. He was staring straight ahead without looking back, but his words were clearly aimed at Yuri. 

“Listen well. Those knights are only a small portion of a much larger power at play.” 

Hank’s voice sounded like a prayer echoing from a faraway world. Meanwhile, the knights entered the neighbouring house and started doing the same things they had done to the previous house. 

“Sure, if things go well, we might be able to defeat those guys. It’s most likely possible. But once we do that, the next time it will be those people with an even larger power that will be our enemies. And they’re definitely more than we can handle.” 

But — but. Yuri gritted his teeth. Do we have to put up with this forever? This humiliation? 

“We have nowhere else to live but here, so we have to endure it as much as we can, and convince ourselves this is nothing.” 

The last part sounded like he was talking to himself. It was the tone of his voice. Was Hanks suppressing his own anger even as he tried to soothe Yuri and the others? As he tried to sneak a peek at the elderly man’s face, Yuri was suddenly aware of the gazes on him. The other children, who had sensed his threatening aura, were staring at him anxiously. 

Their eyes were filled with fear — fear of more chaos, and more violence. 

Without a sound, Yuri clicked his tongue. Relaxing his body, he dropped to the ground and sat down. The knights came out. They discussed the same things as before, and went into another house. 

Everyone in the plaza watched silently, as if they had all been turned into stone statues. Silently, they all raised their voices, but they never reached the knights’ ears. 

Yuri also cried out, with a silent voice. To the knights, to the people on the ‘other side of the wall’, and to ‘those with an even larger power’. 

I won’t forget. He vowed as he gnashed his teeth. I will never forget. I will never think this is ‘normal’. My anger will never cease to exist. 

****

After going around and wrecking places for a while, the Imperial Knights withdrew. Without giving any explanation to the residents, they reassembled, did a roll call, gave orders, and left in a march that was even more disorder than when they first arrived. 

They left behind the houses that were in disarray, and the residents that had to deal with the aftermath. 

He didn’t know if the knights were seriously searching for the thief or any clues that could lead them to catch the thief, or they were just doing it superficially just to show their superiors they were following orders. Or maybe they were just blowing off steam. This was because not all houses were subject to such thorough inspection, and the criteria for it was exceedingly vague even to an outsider. Of course, for the residents whose houses had been wrecked both inside and outside, there wasn’t such a big difference. 

In any case the knights had been motivated to come here because of the aforementioned ‘Dark Wings’. After this incident, Yuri was put in a dilemma, torn between thinking that the lower quarter had suffered because of that thief, thinking that it was the fault of the knights who had actually performed the deed in violence, and his original sympathy towards the ‘Dark Wings’. Facts and reason clashed with emotions within him such as desire, leaving him unsure as to how to reconcile them. 

The adults’ reactions were varied, with some, like Hanks, seeing it as only a pretext for the knights’ raid, while others openly criticised the ‘Dark Wings’. 

“I don’t like it either.” 

Flynn also said clearly. 

“Of course, I don’t think the Imperial Knights’ method of doing things is right. But that doesn’t mean we should excuse the wrongdoings of thieves, either.” 

Even though Yuri was confused and had his doubts, he couldn’t help but speak up when faced with Flynn’s rebuttal. 

“The ‘Dark Wings’ are stealing to give to the poor. In that case wouldn’t they be our ally?” 

“And because of that my house is now in a mess. I’m sure everyone else’s houses are the same.” 

“It was the knights who wrecked them, not the ‘Dark Wings’.” 

“And that did that because the ‘Dark Wings’ did something. Besides, a thief is a thief. It’s natural for a criminal to be hunted down.” 

“You…!” 

After that, their usual quarrel and break up ensued. But as the scars left behind by the knights were still fresh and on display, it was difficult for Yuri to refute any further. 

“Who exactly is the ‘Dark Wings’...?”

In the end, Yuri knew little beyond the rumours. Although he had seen the real person with his own eyes, it didn’t mean anything special. 

Is there any way to confirm it? How? I want to meet them again. And then, I’ll ask them directly. 

That idea naturally took shape in his mind. Yuri decided he would wait for an opportunity to do so. 

But, with that being said, he had no idea what he wanted to ask them. 

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