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alarawriting · 4 years ago

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52 Project #42: Lineage

The air outside Jiangpao International Airport was hot and humid. Karula had always found her home too cold except in midsummer, so it felt good to her, the hot air against her skin making her finally feel almost warm enough. Taxi drivers called out to her urgently, aggressively marketing their services.

“Lady! I can take you to Jiangpao, very cheaply! I have the best rates of anyone here!”

“Younger sister, I’ve got a luxury car! I can take you to Jiangpao in the greatest comfort! You want to hire me!”

“My car’s the fastest, lady!”

One of the taxi drivers – a young man, maybe her own age, maybe even younger – with a mop of unruly black hair, slightly overlong for Senchai men’s fashion, came over to her and gestured at her large, heavy suitcase. “Elder sister, can I take your bag? All these drivers yelling at you probably don’t realize you want some peace and quiet after your long flight.”

Karula smiled. “I’m not going to Jiangpao, though. I’m headed to Nandijao.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I can take you there, sure,” he said. “My rates are very good.”

“Well, you’re the only one who decided not to yell at me from your car, so sure. Take my bag.”

“Your Senchai’sho is very good,” he said as he loaded the suitcase in the trunk of his taxi. “I can barely tell you have an accent. Where are you from?”

“Foirais,” Karula said, “but both my mother and father came from here.”

“Ah. I think everyone seeing a woman who looks Senchai’in, dressed in Southern clothing and too young to be a business executive, probably assumed you were from the South; that’s why they were yelling. But most of them probably thought you were one of the Given-Away Girls, not your mother.”

“Is that what you’re calling them over here?” She dug the disused seat belt out of the crevice of the taxi’s seat. “Given-Away Girls?”

“Well, they were given away,” the taxi driver said apologetically. “It’s not a slur or anything like that.”

He pulled out of the taxi roundabout and gently followed the flow of traffic toward the highway. “So what brings you to Senchai?”

“I’m researching my past, and I’m an anthropology student doing graduate work on Senchai’a folklore,” she said. “So I’ll be going to the Great Library.”

“Oh!” The taxi driver glanced back at her, sounding genuinely impressed. “You got your approval papers? They don’t usually let foreigners into the Great Library.”

“Of course.” She’d hardly have flown all the way from Foirais if she didn’t have all her permits in order to do what she’d come to do. “My cousin is a physics professor at Nandijao University, so she pulled some strings.”

“But you said you were researching your past?”

“My mother’s heritage,” Karula said. “My father—” was a philosophy student at the University who became a dissident, and had to flee to Foirais to stay out of prison—“grew up in Nandijao. But my mother was, as you say, a Given-Away Girl, so we don’t have any idea who her relatives are. All we know is what town she was born in.”

“Well, if it’s a small town and you know her birthdate, the records at the Great Library might help you narrow it down, but I don’t envy you. It’s got to be like looking for a single worm in an entire barrel of rice.”

It would be. The Given-Away Girls – she’d never heard the term before, but it seemed so perfect, she wondered why not – had birth certificates that showed their actual town of birth and birth date, but their parents’ names had been replaced by their adoptive parents. Girls had traditionally been seen as a burden in Senchai – parents had to raise a dowry for them, and then the girls ended up caring for their in-laws once they were elderly, not their own parents. When demographics in the wealthy nations of the South, like Foirais, had shifted so that there were far fewer children available for adoption, parents in Senchai had learned that if they gave away their daughters at birth, they would receive large sums of money.

Fueled by the promise of riches and the desire to send their daughters to a place where girls were valuable enough that adoptive parents would pay large sums to have a daughter, a place where their girls might grow up to be wealthy and secure, many, many parents gave up their daughters for adoption… to the point where the female population dropped low enough that the government of Senchai outlawed dowry, and made such adoptions require permits that were rarely given. But by the time the government took action, over a hundred thousand daughters of Senchai had been adopted out to other nations, the history of the families they came from lost to them forever.

With a father who had family back in Senchai, Karula Lefaire – her mother’s name, which was traditional in Foirais for women – had more resources to research the issue than most of the Given-Away Girls or their children did. And she also had more reason to.

“It’ll be difficult, but I’ll enjoy the challenge,” Karula said. “And it gives me a good excuse to do research for my thesis.”

***

From Jiangpao International Airport, it was an hour and a half to her cousin Ren Seiri’s house. Small talk with the taxi driver passed some of the time, but Karula was very relieved when she arrived. She was by nature too solitary to truly enjoy being locked in a small metal box with another person for an hour unless they were a good friend.

Ren Seiri greeted her at the door. “Younger cousin! Come in, come in! I’ll have my son take your bag—”

“Don’t trouble him, I can carry it. I’m stronger than I look.”

“Nonsense, you’re a guest and you’re family from a long way away. Jai! Come help our cousin with her bag!”

Jai, who more or less bounced into the room, turned out to be around 14, taller than Karula but skinnier, and she was herself a thin woman. “Elder cousin, no, don’t burden your son! I can carry it!”

“No, no, elder cousin!” Jai said. “I’ve been lifting weights! Look!” He grunted as he lifted the suitcase over his head. It had wheels, but plainly he didn’t want to use them on the lacquered bamboo floor.

“Oh, well, that is impressive,” Karula said.

“Let me show you to your room, and then you must come have some tea. Perhaps some sweet bean buns. Or some real food. I have barbeque pork rolls and cold eel dumplings.” Seiri’s doctorate and professorship apparently didn’t stop her from behaving exactly like any stereotypical Senchai’in mother.

Ren Seiri was the daughter of Karula’s father’s significantly older brother. She was not quite twice Karula’s age, but she was plainly getting there. She was wearing a dress of Southern styling, but beautiful silk dyed in a very Senchai’a pattern, and elegant soft house slippers. Karula replaced her own shoes with house slippers before following Seiri and her son.

She finally got some time to herself by insisting she needed a shower and a change of clothes. It was an excuse, but a good one. Most people would, in fact, need a shower and change of clothes after so much time in the Senchai’a heat. Karula, unlike most people, hadn’t sweated into her clothes at all, and she found the air conditioning oppressive enough that she turned it off in her bedroom and then opened all the windows, letting the heat in. She ran her shower as hot as she could stand it, and pinned her long hair up while it was still fairly wet because the wet hair was chilly on her neck. The traditional Senchai’a gown and robe she dressed in were silk, but heavy enough to keep the heat in… not generally something a Senchai’in, or in fact anybody, would wear in high summer, but it would keep the bugs off, and it looked lighter and cooler than it was.

After her shower, her cousin insisted on feeding her tea, hot pork buns, cold eel dumplings, and pastries full of warm bean custard, plainly purchased fresh at a bakery less than an hour ago. Seiri had probably ordered them while Karula was in the shower. Karula didn’t eat the dumplings. Seiri said that it made sense that a woman raised in Foirais wouldn’t have a taste for eel, and Karula didn’t correct her.

Then Seiri bustled around the kitchen, making dinner, continuing to bring Karula cups of tea and prattle on about family members Karula had obviously never met, telling stories about Karula’s father’s childhood that she’d heard from her own grandparents. Karula appreciated the hospitality but this was driving her insane. This was much too much social interaction, but she couldn’t politely extricate herself from it. She eventually managed to turn the conversation to teaching Jai some Foiraisse and telling him about the city she grew up in.

Dinner was Seiri, Jai, Seiri’s husband Shaon, Seiri’s sister Leirin, and Leirin’s boyfriend, who was apparently only allowed to see Leirin when Leirin was at Seiri’s house because their parents disapproved of him and it would be absolutely scandalous for her to be alone with her boyfriend without being chaperoned by family. Seiri assured Karula that she would be meeting her grandparents tomorrow, but they had to travel from Jiangpao. She said this in a slightly derisive tone, not the mockery of a person looking down on a lower status person, but the mockery of a person who believes someone of the same status is putting on airs. So apparently living in Jiangpao was considered higher status, at least for well-to-do people, than living in a college town, and Seiri disapproved of this. Then they all spent the entire meal continuing to tell Karula all about the lives of people she’d never met.

Afterward Seiri showed Karula the photo album. She was very interested in the pictures her father had sent back to his family of himself, his wife and daughter; Karula had almost no pictures of her mother as an adult, as everything her parents had owned when her mother had been alive had burned in the fire. It was astonishing how much her mother had looked like her. They could be twins, if they hadn’t been a generation apart. But then Seiri insisted on showing her all the other pictures, of the cousins, and the cousins’ cousins, and the great-grandparents, and everyone’s in-laws, and by the time she was done with just one photo album Karula’s eyes were glazed over and she had to plead exhaustion in order to escape to her room.

Karula’s long-lost family were so friendly, so welcoming. Such nice people.

She was so looking forward to spending tomorrow in the Great Library’s archive, not talking to anyone at all.

***

Senchai was famous – or perhaps infamous – for its bureaucracy and record-keeping. The country had started keeping detailed records of its citizens on papyrus, nearly three thousand years ago, when the country had only been the city of Jiangpao and the immediate province around it. Twenty-four hundred years ago, the empire had expanded to the point where local provinces were storing all of their own records. Emperor Nan had decreed that every record should have two copies made, and the second copy should be stored in an archive in the newly founded city of Nandijao, “Nan’s Treasure”.

Since then, through dynasties, foreign occupations, and revolutions, through the expansion and contraction of Senchai as wars moved the borders this way and that, every citizen of Senchai had had all of their important records – birth, marriage, any certificates they’d earned for the right to practice certain professions like medicine or accounting, and death – stored as copies in the Archives. The Great Library of Nandijao had grown up around the Archives, and the University of Nandijao, Senchai’s greatest and most nationally renowned university, had been founded there for proximity to the Great Library.

A famous story was told of conquerors who’d come in and tried to burn the Archives, who had been driven back by librarians, professors, and students from the University, wielding nothing but sticks and their own belts with rocks or heavy bars of soap tied to the end. This story was held in some skepticism by many scholars, since the only records of the incident were held in the Archives, and the librarians were no more immune than anyone else to self-aggrandizing stories. On the other hand, it was also true that, had it happened, it wasn’t likely that records about it would have gone anywhere but the Archives. It was, after all, where copies of all records in the nation ended up; it sent records nowhere itself.

There was currently a major project underway to digitize the Archives. The digitization had gotten back only two hundred fifty years so far, but that was probably far enough for Karula’s needs. Probably. So she didn’t spend any time sifting through papers centuries old; she spent the day scrolling through digitized documents. It was still as quiet and undisturbed as she’d hoped. If only she could do this outside where it was warm, rather than in the air conditioning, it would be ideal.

It was lengthy work. There was a difference between a record of birth and a birth certificate. The record of birth stated that a certain mother had given live birth within a certain week, and the gender of the baby, but the father’s name and the child’s name were not recorded. It was done for the census, not to track the lives of citizens. The birth certificates were amended on adoption, and if the original certificate still existed in the Archives anywhere, it was probably in a file cabinet for inactive documents, older documents that had revised versions. So there was no record of Karula’s mother, specifically, but there were records of all the women who had given birth in the city of Chofu, in that week. Unfortunately, Chofu, while nowhere near the size of Jiangpao or even Nandijao, was still large enough to support thirty-one births of girls in the week of Karula’s mother’s birthday. And Chofu, being a port town, had been a major destination for pregnant women who planned to sell any daughter they might have to pale-skinned Southerners. Ten of the women who were recorded as giving birth that week did not appear on any birth certificates, and ten of the birth certificates were girls with Southerner names for parents.

This meant Karula had to trace back the family histories and origin provinces of ten women, any of whom might have been her grandmother. And then track back their families, though thankfully that went back to before the era of Given-Away Girls. And then compare to records of birth to make sure no daughters were adopted out to other families, because the fact that they’d have names in Senchai’sho would make it non-obvious that an adoption had happened. And then cross correlate that to whatever news had made it on paper to the Archives… because news was not a governmental record and there was no guarantee a newspaper would have been sent to the Archives in the first place.

She’d spend the first half of her days doing her genealogical research in the Archives, and the other half in the Library proper, reading folklore accounts, particularly the stories told in various regions. During the Revolution at the beginning of the century, the new leadership of Senchai had decided that folklore was ancient superstition that needed to be discarded as Senchai entered the New Century, but fortunately that had only lasted until the original dictator had died. The new government had decided instead that folklore was part of the rich cultural history of Senchai and should definitely be preserved, and they’d even sent people around to record the stories the locals would tell, and then take them back to the Library. It had been a spasm of nationalism that had resulted in Senchai joining in on the wrong side of a terrible war, but the effect, the attempt to preserve Senchai’s ancient culture, had continued onward even after the war.

After her work, she’d go walking in Nandijao. Senchai was the first place she’d ever been where everyone looked like her. In Foirais, where most of the citizens were pale people with round eyes and a wild variety of hair colors, Karula had had very few people she could look to who were similar to her. Here in Senchai, her accent made her an outsider, but she at least looked like the folks here. Mostly. There was the fact that they all had black or brown eyes, and hers were only brown at a distance; when she looked closely in a mirror, they appeared a tawny amber. But since she hadn’t run around looking deep into most people’s eyes here in Senchai, she assumed it was a normal variation.

It was a little bit sad that no matter where she went, she was an outsider. In Foirais, her eyes and skin marked her as “not Foiraise” to many of her fellow citizens even though she’d grown up there. In Senchai, she looked like the people, but the moment she opened her mouth, she revealed herself as foreign. So she tried to get by in talking as little as possible. It felt better, somehow, to be thought of a mute or selectively non-verbal Senchai’in than a foreigner. She explored the city, bought food, newspapers, occasionally tiny memorabilia – nothing large enough that it wouldn’t fit in her suitcase.

And then she’d go to her aunt’s house and spend the evening having to listen to her cousin and her husband talk, endlessly. At one point she’d gotten her cousin onto the topic of physics, in desperation. Cousin Seiri had been happy to talk about her own research, but then had drifted into the topic of her own doctorate, and then her college days, and then she’d monopolized the conversation talking about her youth for an hour. Finally, Karula had taken to cultivating a relationship with Jai, in self defense. He let her get a word in edgewise sometimes, and Cousin Seiri wouldn’t interrupt Karula and tell her about people she had never met and never would.

He was a good kid. Karula had always had a soft spot for kids. He liked playing football – the challenge of never using your hands, the excitement of making your body into the thing to hit the ball with rather than a stick or the parts of your body designed to hit things with – and he enjoyed making and flying kites. His father, also a physics professor, had taught him about aerodynamics when he was young, and they used to make kites together. He was also willing to talk for long periods of time about his favorite comic books, and science fiction, and he thought her researches into folklore were cool. Especially the part about creatures who appeared in many, many different countries’ legends. Dragons, phoenixes, the qilin and its resemblance to Southern unicorns, the different types of undead around the world.

She tried to pull her own weight by helping around the house – sweeping, washing dishes, cleaning the kitchen counter. At first Seiri insisted that she shouldn’t do any such thing, because she was a guest, but Karula had responded by pointing out that she was family, and she wanted to feel like family. After that, Seiri let her do chores… as long as they didn’t involve going near the burner on the stove.

The first time she’d done that, and the only, had been when she’d tried to put on hot water for tea. At home in Foirais, she’d had an electric stove, and in her dorm at university, there had been no stove at all – you used the cafeteria, or you heated food in a microwave. Cousin Seiri’s stove had a gas range. Karula had turned on the burner… and then stared, mesmerized, at the flames, the tea kettle still in her hand. Slowly she’d reached toward the flame with her free hand.

Seiri had seen her do it and pulled her away as she was about to touch the beautiful flame. “Oh, no, no! You can’t be doing things with fire!” She’d put the kettle on the burner herself and then pulled Karula away from the stove entirely by both hands, walking backwards, pulling Karula toward the family dining table. “I’m so sorry. After what happened to your mother…! I didn’t even think! Of course you shouldn’t have to do anything with fire!”

That night Karula dreamed. In real life, Father had held her, both of them screaming, begging for Mother to stop, as Mother had run back into their burning house, and Karula had struggled in Father’s arms to follow her, to pull her back. In the dream, Father wasn’t even there, and Karula ran through the burning hallways, opening doors into rooms her house had not actually had, looking for Mother. And then she’d found her, wreathed in fire, her eyes golden and glowing… and Karula had walked toward the fire, intent on immolating herself as well.

She didn’t normally remember her dreams, but she woke the moment she touched the flame, shaken, tears on her face.

***

After twenty-three days of running into the dead end of “there are no records of this at the Archives”, Karula decided to go to Chofu for herself.

“You make sure to get a good hotel,” Cousin Seiri insisted. “If I were you I’d get a Southern-style hotel. I know there’s a Hillain and a Morenta in Chofu, and they get good reviews.”

“I can stay in a Southern-style hotel anywhere near home,” Karula said. “I’m looking for something Senchai’a, but nice. Do you know any?”

“Oh, of course! But the truth is, Chofu’s just a small town in comparison to Nandijao, so I don’t know how many options you’ll have.”

The truth was, Cousin Seiri had never been to Chofu and needed time to contact her network of friends and family to find out what was good there. Karula trusted Cousin Seiri’s network better than she trusted official reviews, so she waited, and eventually booked a room in a Chofu inn called the Soaring Fish. It was a traditional inn, so a dinner buffet was served nightly, large platters of fried rice and stir-fried meats in various sauces, and the guests were expected to take whatever portions they wanted. Karula, arriving on a late train, was grateful. It was the first time she had stayed at a traditional Senchai’a inn; she’d stayed in many Southern-style hotels with restaurants attached, and in many of them the hotel served breakfast, but she’d never before been somewhere that the hotel itself served dinner. She was always happy to warm up with a hot meal.

The next day she went to Chofu’s Children’s Peace and Health Center… a euphemism for the place where parents could abandon children, no questions asked. Since the revolution Senchai had been torn between the modern ways they wanted to adopt and the traditional mores most of the country held. In past times, the traditions demanded total obedience from children to their parents, but nowadays children had rights, and parents had obligations to them. It was also a tradition for parents in dire poverty to sell their daughters as servants, but nowadays that meant the sex trade, so it was extremely illegal. The society’s safety valve was the Children’s Peace and Health Center, where runaways would be sheltered, and children even as old as adolescents could be dropped off by parents.

Orphans were sent there as well. Some of those were adopted out quickly; the Children’s Peace and Health Centers mediated almost all the adoptions in Senchai. Those who weren’t ended up in orphanages, but the Peace and Health Center that had brought them in would continue to look for adoptive or foster parents for them.

Karula had visited the center in Nandijao; it was elaborately hidden. A shrubbery maze, a basement level of tunnels, and a network of walkways above formed a labyrinth with many, many exits – at a park for children, at an office building for doctors, at a shopping center… and the Children’s Peace and Health Center. This ensured that it was almost impossible to tell whether a given person with a child was taking the child to the Center, or to a doctor’s appointment, or a play date.

Chofu wasn’t nearly so wealthy a city, nor nearly as invested in appearances. The Children’s Peace and Health Center was simply there, on a street near one of the bus stops. It was a Southern-style rectangular blocky building, built back when Senchai perceived the South as more medically advanced and progressive. Thus it was out of place, and very ugly. On her way to the front door, Karula passed a strange version of a revolving door. It was only half a person’s height, and instead of being a glass door, it was a crib and an opaque partition. Experimentally, Karula pushed the empty crib slightly, noting where it would enter the building.

It was at this Center that her mother had been presented to her future parents, had been adopted and taken away from her homeland. Had her biological grandmother laid her mother down in that crib and spun it to push her baby into the Center, to be taken by employees, never to be seen by Karula’s grandmother anymore?

Inside, it looked just like a Southern-style medical office, with a receptionist behind a clear partition. “Hello!” the receptionist said. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to research my mother’s history.”

“Oh, well, you must understand that we keep very little information on birth parents.”

“That’s all right,” Karula said. “I’ll take what I can get. How would I look her up?”

“Do you have the names of your open-hearted grandparents?”

Karula blinked. “Open-hearted?”

“Oh, we don’t like to use the term ‘adoptive parent’ here. It sounds like they’re lesser than birth parents somehow. Anyone who’d take a child into their heart and adopt them is open-hearted and generous, so we call them ‘open-hearted parents’.”

Ah. A euphemism. “I do. My mother’s mother was Charlée Lefaire, and her husband was Gantoise Lefaire.”

“And your name is?”

“Karula Lefaire.”

The receptionist’s eyebrow went up. “Your mother didn’t marry?”

“In Foirais, children take the mother’s family name, not the father’s.”

“Oh! Of course! Pardon me for prying, I’ve never met anyone from Foirais before. Most of the Given-Away Girls or their families come from Anacrisia or Southland.”

“Well, I’ve never been to Senchai before, so now we’re matched.” Karula smiled at her. “Do you have any record of either of my open-hearted grandparents?”

The receptionist typed, her long lacquered nails clacking against her keyboard. “Yes. Charlée Lefaire, and there’s Gantoise Lefaire. Oh, interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

“Your mother would have been Jirène Lefaire?”

“Yes. Do you have any record of her birth name?”

“No, we don’t keep that. But she was adopted at 16 months, not infancy. And this says she entered the center only two weeks before her adoption. So she wasn’t an infant surrender.” More clacking. “I might be able to get some more detail. Prospective parents like to know if there was any family history of violence or drug abuse or anything like that which they might need to know about their new child.”

Karula suspected that children with problems like that in their past were probably the last to be adopted. Or second last, after disabled children. “So what kind of information would be kept?”

“It’ll tell me if she was a legal surrender – meaning, she was taken away from incompetent birth parents for legal reasons – or… oh. Oh, that’s different. I don’t see that often.”

“What are you seeing?”

“She was surrendered by the fire department. That only happens if the child is rescued from a fire and the parents are dead or can’t be found, usually. Fire department personnel do general rescues, so it could have been a flood or an earthquake…”

“No,” Karula said. “Fire does sound likely.”

“Did she have burn scars?”

“Nothing like that, but she had a… strange relationship with fire.” She didn’t want to talk about that. “The birth date on her birth certificate is 13 Sanwa. Is that the birth date you have also?”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

“But you don’t have her birth name?”

“No. As I said, we don’t keep that.”

What she’d said was that information wasn’t kept on the birth parents, but Karula said nothing. “Do you have her adoption date?”

“22 Ren.”

“That gives me a lot to go on. Thanks.”

***

The Archives back in Nandijao didn’t have perfect records of newspapers… but the Library itself kept copies of newspapers going back sixty years, all the way back to the Revolution. Karula’s mother would have been 45 now, and Chofu was a large enough city that newspapers would probably be kept from it.

On 4 Ren that year, a house fire claimed the lives of Bai Ji-Wen, 25 years old, and her husband, Bai Sanli, 30. They were survived by their infant child, who wasn’t named, but Karula could guess. Named after her mother, perhaps, Ji-Wen, or maybe Ji-Len. “Songbird”, and if it had changed to Ji-Len, “Little Bird.” Ji-Wen or Ji-Len becoming the Foiraise name Jirène made perfect sense.

Bai Sanli, born 30 years earlier, had married Tenra Ji-Wen when he was 26, whereupon she’d taken his family name. Tenra Ji-Wen, who’d have been 21 at the time, had been born in a fishing town thirty kilometers up the coast from Chofu, called Bangji. That was Karula’s next destination.

“Where are you going to stay?” Cousin Seiri was, in Karula’s opinion, overly worried about this. “That’s so far away! You’ll be out in the middle of nowhere!”

“It’s all right,” Karula reassured her. “I’m good at finding my own way.”

“But you’ll be a young woman all alone! Don’t you know what can happen to young women in the forest when nobody’s around?”

“I’ll be fine, Elder Cousin,” Karula said. “I’ll call and let you know how I’m doing.”

“But will they even have service out there?”

Karula raised an eyebrow. “Elder Cousin… the entire country was wired for land lines a generation ago. If I have no cell signal, I’ll just call from one of those.”

In addition to landlines and electricity, the government a generation ago had made certain there were train lines all over Senchai, so Karula didn’t have too much difficulty getting to Bangji. Once she got there, there was exactly one taxi at the train station, and the very bored taxi driver seemed very surprised to see her. “Oh! You’re a visitor!”

“I guess you don’t get many in Bangji?”

“I come out here every day and wait at the train station,” the old man said. “I’m supposed to be retired, but who can live off the government stipend? So I drive my taxi. But only two or three times a week am I needed, and usually it’s university students coming home to visit. Who are you here to see?”

“I’m a researcher from Foirais,” Karula said. “I’m here to collect stories from people. Is there anywhere I can stay?”

“Well, the Wangs run a bed and breakfast, but I don’t know if their room is available. I haven’t picked anyone up at the train station, though, so… probably.”

***

Mrs. Wang was also elderly, a small woman whose white hair was collected in a traditional Senchai’a bun. Karula had wondered how Bangji could support even one bed and breakfast, if they had so few visitors. Presumably the Wangs were also on retirement stipend. Strictly speaking, retirees on the stipend weren’t supposed to work; in theory, the government could reduce their stipend by the amount they made from side jobs. In practice, the government might possibly care about people in a retirement community, or in some areas of big cities where a lot of government ministers lived, but no one was ever going to come to Bangji and find out that old people had side businesses.

“Mr. Jo tells me you’re looking for a place to stay?” Mrs. Wang had come out to speak to the taxi driver, and then went around to the passenger side to talk to Karula. “I do have a room if you’d like!”

“That would be wonderful,” Karula said.

The room turned out to be small but very clean, decorated with rustic wooden sculptures of sea dragons, turtles whose shells glittered with stars, and giant fish-birds. This was perfect. It was legends of creatures like that that had brought Karula to Senchai, and out here to Bangji. A mandala made of sea shells decorated the wall above the bed, which was a mattress on the floor, covered in sheets in the traditional dark blues and purples of the squid ink the locals harvested and sold for textile pigment. A feather-filled silk comforter in a paler blue color was folded at the foot of the bed. The walls were thin bamboo, but solid enough for her purposes. There was one long, low piece of furniture with drawers running alongside one wall.

“This is beautiful. I would be pleased to rent from you.”

Mrs. Wang nodded. “We make our own breakfast at 6 am, but if you come down to the kitchen before 9 am, I’ll make you something. Typically our breakfast is rice porridge with smoked fish and fried dough twists, but if there’s something specific you want, I could make you anything. I used to be a cook at a local restaurant, before I retired.”

“Whatever you’re making for yourself is fine, as long as it’s hot. I can come down early.” Karula usually woke at sunrise, or just before it, the imminent appearance of the sun filling her with restless energy.

“Early is best,” Mrs. Wang agreed. “Our daughter sleeps late, and it’s best not to be at breakfast at the same time she is. So much energy!” She smiled.

“I don’t mind children, or their energy, but if you prefer that I avoid your daughter—”

“No, no! If she approaches you, feel free to be Elder Sister or Auntie, as you please. There aren’t a lot of children in Bangji… not anymore, anyway.”

“Because most of the town has become venerable, I imagine?”

“That, yes, but… well, there have been some tragedies. Several children have disappeared. The police weren’t able to find any common factor, and every home here’s been searched thoroughly, and there are no strangers in Bangji most of the time. So we think perhaps they were taken by wild animals, but no one’s found animal spoor, either.”

“That’s terrible!”

“We try to watch over Lai-Mei all the time, but she’s so young and energetic, and she behaves as if there’s no danger at all. We try to tell her, but she doesn’t always listen.”

“Well, if I run into her, I will surely try to caution her. Perhaps I can use my youth and energy to counter hers, and keep her safe.”

***

Mr. Wang was equally friendly and equally garrulous, talking to Karula about his garden, which was indeed beautiful.

“In my younger days I traveled all over Senchai,” he said. “I gathered up plants from all sorts of places. Back then we didn’t really think about things like invasive species.” He smiled wryly. “Nowadays I try to grow local plants only, but some of these are just too beautiful to do without even if they came from halfway across the country. Like these.” He showed her flowers with purple and pink bells. Another had clusters of tiny orange and red flowers making patterns that looked like larger flowers.

“You’ve lived here a long time,” Karula said. “I’m trying to track down my mother’s family. Do you remember anything about a family named Tenra?”

“Tenra? Can’t say I do. Mrs. Wang might know, though. As I said, I traveled, but she’s lived here her whole life.”

***

Karula spent the day gathering stories from people about legends in the area. People in Bangji were full of such stories, and they all claimed that this had really happened, to a friend of a friend. Stories of dragons who almost managed to barbeque the friend of a friend. Stories of the great bird-fish surfacing less than an hour’s sail away from the shore. Qilin in the forest at the base of the mountain to the west of Bangji. Malevolent demons. Witches who had certainly cast baleful spells and hexes on innocent people, oh, around 30 years ago.

She asked several people about the Tenra family. No one remembered them. This seemed strange to Karula; Tenra Ji-Wen had married at the age of 21, 50 years ago. Had she had no family by then? Had her family been transplants from somewhere else? Had they moved on? Surely one of the elderly residents of Bangji would remember. But none did.

When she returned to the Wangs’ bed and breakfast, she almost tripped over a little girl, perhaps 9 or so. “Well, hello.”

The girl looked her up and down, an almost insolent expression on her face. “Where did you come from?”

“Foirais, but my mother was born in Chofu, and her mother was born in Bangji, according to the records. Are you Wang Lai-Mei?”

“That isn’t a real person,” the girl said. “I’m Lun Lai-Mei.”

A child old enough to keep her original family name when she was adopted was probably one of the Thrown-Away Girls, a darker and sadder term for the abandoned girls who were surrendered to the Children’s Center as toddlers or older. “Ah. Well, Lun Lai-Mei, I’m Karula Lefaire.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Lai-Mei said. “I’ll just call you Elder Sister anyway.”

“Yes, but it’s polite to share my name with you, since you shared yours. I’m staying with your parents while I research my family.”

“I figured that. You definitely aren’t from Senchai, so why would you be here unless you’re a guest?”

“My accent makes it that obvious?”

“I could just look at your face, Elder Sister. You don’t look Senchai’in.”

Karula blinked. Both her parents were Senchai’in born in Senchai; how could she look anything else? “Why not?”

Lai-Mei smiled. “You’re too tall.”

Karula was a little on the tall side for a Senchai’in woman, but not to the point where she stood out. “I’ve met many Senchai’in women who are taller than me.”

“Well, it’s something,” Lai-Mei said. “I don’t know what.”

Lai-Mei herself didn’t quite look fully Senchai’in. She was beautiful, tiny for her apparent age, long straight hair pinned up with hairpins in the back that had seashells on them. In all respects but one she was the perfect picture of a Senchai’in girl… but her eyes were bright, vivid green. Perhaps her mother had had an affair with a foreigner, and that was why she’d been given away. Or perhaps it was a natural variation. Karula hadn’t met any Senchai’in with eye colors other than black or brown, aside from herself… and her own eye color was subtle enough that neither Cousin Seiri, nor Jai, nor anyone else who’d seen her up close in good lighting had remarked on it. But there were a billion people in Senchai, and many distinct ethnic groups, so perhaps green eyes was a rare but known phenomenon. Like red-haired people in Foirais.

“Lai-Mei!” Mrs. Wang called from the door. “Don’t bother the honored guest!”

“She’s not bothering me!” Karula called back. To Lai-Mei she said, “I might see you tomorrow if I’m not too tired when I come home.”

“This isn’t home for you, though, Elder Sister,” Lai-Mei said.

“This is my current base of operations, and that’s good enough.”

By Senchai’a standards, the child was extremely rude, but Karula found it a refreshing change, actually. All the children she’d met so far had had mostly perfect manners – Seiri might think Jai’s desire to monopolize a conversation talking about his interests was a flaw, but Karula, here to learn from Senchai’in people, didn’t see it that way. Lai-Mei was blunt. By Foiraise standards, she was actually fairly normal. Children were children all around the world, after all.

***

Elderly Mrs. Jin, 98 years old, was mentioned in a discussion in town of who might remember the Tenra family. So Karula went to her house. It was in better repair than she expected for a 98-year-old woman, and Karula could see why; two shirtless young men were working on the property, one clipping the hedges and one repairing a shutter.

“Is Mrs. Jin home?” she asked one of them.

The young man laughed. “Grandmother never goes anywhere anymore. What you want to ask is, is Mrs. Jin awake, and the answer is, probably not but she loves visitors, so go in and wake her up if you like.”

Inside, a middle-aged woman was pureeing rice and some sort of vegetable in a blender. “Hello! Are you here to see Grandmother?”

The term was a generic one of respect for the elderly, but Karula thought perhaps this woman was really Mrs. Jin’s granddaughter. “I’m doing some research to track down my mother’s family,” she said, “and Mrs. Jin was referred to me as someone who might remember my grandmother here as a child.”

“Oh, she loves it when people want to ask her about the past! Let me go see if she wants to wake up to see you.”

She ducked behind a sliding bamboo partition, and was gone for a couple of minutes. When she returned she said, “Come this way. Grandmother would be happy to talk with you!”

The old woman was reclining on a couch that was absolutely drowning in pillows. “This is the guest, Grandmother!” the woman yelled. “She’s staying at the Wangs’ bed and breakfast!”

“Glad to see they’ve got some custom,” Mrs. Jin said in a surprisingly strong voice for such an old woman. She was very small, with gray hair cropped in a modern short haircut, and Karula would have guessed her to be in her 70’s or 80’s. Then again, Karula had hardly met enough nonagenarians to have any idea how to tell a 90-something from a younger but still elderly person. “Come close, girl, and sit down on these floor pillows. Neither my eyesight nor my hearing’s the best anymore.”

“We keep trying to get her to go to the doctor to be fitted for hearing aids,” the middle-aged woman said.

“And I keep saying no! Because at my age, why should I travel? If the doctor wants my money, he should come here.”

“The national health ministry would pay the doctor, not you,” the woman sighed.

Karula took the offered seat, right in front of the old woman. “My mother was a Given-Away girl, but I managed to track down the identity of her mother. A woman named Tenra Ji-Wen was born here… maybe around 70 years ago?”

“Oh. Oh, I remember that. The Tenra family. Such a shame what happened to them.”

“What happened to them?”

“The father was in logging, if I remember right. Cut down trees, bring them to the city to sell to the middlemen who make logs into wood for carpenters. There’s a lot of forest around here, but in those days there was almost nothing else; you could barely get to Bangji except by water. There was a road, but it was packed dirt and full of ruts from the carts. Well, you know how it is. Every time it rained the whole thing turned into mud and we were trapped here.” Mrs. Jin nodded slightly to herself, her eyes – focused and bright a moment ago, unfocusing. Karula wondered if she was falling asleep, but it seemed she was just collecting her thoughts.

“I think it was… 40 years ago they paved the road? They were having a revolution, outside of Bangji, but it never came here. They came from the government to tell us how to run our lives, and we smiled and nodded and did just what we pleased as soon as they were gone. Found out later, they’d never returned! Bandits or wild animals or something. They disappeared without a trace. We didn’t learn until two or three groups from the government came through and then left. They were all vanishing. So the soldiers came, you know, because they thought we were killing these people, but we told them our protector spirit must be getting overly aggressive, and we hadn’t known it was killing. We laid down a lovely large tuna at the shrine and prayed for the protector not to kill the government workers anymore, and that did the trick. Soldiers were still suspicious, though. They quartered here for a few years, but eventually they realized, Bangji may hold to a lot of the old ways, but a lot of the newfangled stuff they wanted to bring in? We were already doing it.”

This was fascinating but had nothing to do with the Tenra family that Karula could see. For a moment impatience warred with her scholar’s curiosity. The scholar won. “Your protector spirit? Can you tell me about that?”

“No one who has ill intent toward Bangji can come here, and anyone who develops ill intent while they’re here, they never leave. The government people wanted to take away everyone’s land and make it the property of the state and then give it back to us to work on it. Well, that’s just stupid. We already live as a community; everyone takes care of everyone else. You know, everyone in the town calls me Grandmother and they all come by to take care of me, feed me, help me to the bathroom… I can’t walk on my own anymore. It bothered me at first, that everyone came, because I always used to do for myself. I took care of my kids and all their friends, and all my grandkids, and all their friends, and I was the one who did for people, and it was hard to get my head around being the one they were doing for, but you know what? I thought about it, and I earned it. I worked hard to take care of all those kids and now they all take care of me, and that’s the way life’s supposed to be, right?”

“What is the protector spirit?” Karula asked again.

Mrs. Jin cackled. “A dragon, of course! A sea dragon, what else would a fishing town have? We’re not large enough for the fish-bird to honor us with its presence, nor holy enough for qilins, but there’s so many dragons. The sea is full of them. The land too.” Her eyes went unfocused again. “It’s the land dragons you have to watch out for. So many of them died in the purges out there. So many. The children don’t even know who they are.”

“What’s the difference between a land dragon and a sea dragon?”

“Well, what do you think? One lives on the earth and one lives in the water! Land dragons have earth and fire and air in their souls. A lot of them breathe fire like the Southern ones. Sea dragons have water and air, no fire or earth, but they’re more magical.”

“And what is the protector spirit?”

Mrs. Jin went unfocused again. “I wish I knew anymore, young lady. Back in those days the protector was definitely a sea dragon, but the soldiers… I worry about the soldiers. For a while it was gone. Then it came back, but I’ve never seen it, so I don’t know if it’s the same one. I don’t know if the price is worth paying anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t the price be worth paying?”

Mrs. Jin shrugged. “You didn’t come here to listen to me ramble about everything and anything, though. You said Tenra Ji-Wen?”

“Yes.”

“I could tell,” Mrs. Jin nodded. “You look exactly like her. Exactly. We weren’t close; I didn’t have kids yet when she was born. She must have left, what, maybe she was seventeen? eighteen? How old are you, granddaughter?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Close enough. I knew her but we were out of sync; she was too young to be my playmate and too old to be my kids’ friend. But we all knew her. So hard she worked, since she was so small. She couldn’t even go to school. Someone had to take care of her father. She cooked and cleaned for him.”

“Wait, what happened to her mother?”

“Oh, I didn’t say? Such a tragedy, she burned. Whole house went up in flames when Ji-Wen was little. 2, 3? Something like that. The father was out, he was a logger. I mentioned that, right?”

Karula held herself very still, showing nothing of her reaction on her face. “You certainly did, Grandmother.”

“It was a miracle. Something preserved that little girl. They found her in the ashes, crying. Her mother must have gotten her into a cellar or something so the fire wouldn’t get her.”

“She didn’t have any siblings?”

“No, she was her mother’s first, and her poor mother never lived long enough to have another. The father didn’t even remarry until she was, I don’t know, 14 or 15? And the stepmother was respectful to the daughter, of course, we wouldn’t have stood for it otherwise, but Ji-Wen wanted to get away anyway. I think she probably wanted to get away the whole time, but she needed to take care of her father. So she left, a few years later. We never saw her again. Whatever did happen to her?”

“I’m not sure,” Karula lied. “I need to do some more research. I believe she’s dead, but the details…?” She shrugged. “It’ll come together from my research, eventually. Do you know where her mother came from? The one who died?”

“No. Sad to say I wasn’t the gossip back then that I became! Oh, I cared so much about what the kids my own age were doing, but nothing about the old people. That’s the problem with humans, you know. The young ones don’t think the old ones are people.”

“I certainly think older people are people,” Karula said, startled.

“I don’t exactly mean that. Like… we’re just here. We have our own lives, but the kids don’t care. Whereas we care about the kids, because we remember being them, but they don’t remember us unless they can remember past lives!” She chuckled. “You’re different, though. Most people who come to me with a question, they don’t have any patience for how my mind wanders. It’s been doing that since my 50’s, you know. Amazing when you think about it, I’ve been old for almost as long as I was young. If you count 50 as old. Most of the 50 year olds don’t, but the young ones like you do.”

“Your stories are fascinating. But I’m a student of folklore, and to a lesser extent history, and it amazes me to talk to someone as venerable as you, Grandmother. To be alive from before the revolution! The things you must have seen… Is there anyone coming to you to write down these stories?”

“Write them down?”

“Someone should, if no one is. Would you mind if scholars from Nandijao came here to write down the story of your life? You could tell them anything you’d like. Grandmother, you are living history and we should all learn from you.” Karula stood up. “I must go now, if there’s nothing you’d like me to do for you, but I would love to come back soon.”

“Yes, you do that! I’ll have Izhen make you tea. We still do it the old way, you know. I’ve got one of those new-fangled gas stoves for heating water, but we do it in the fireplace, just like when I was a girl.” She gestured at the fireplace, which, thankfully, was dark at the moment.

Karula bowed hastily, dragging her eyes away. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll be back!”

Her hands didn’t shake until she was back in her room, safe from anyone’s eyes. The Wangs’ house also had a fireplace. But they hadn’t lit it since she’d arrived. It was summertime; they didn’t need to.

Karula had planned to take this trip on summer break because it made the most sense with her schedule. She was beginning to realize there was another reason why it had been a very good idea to do it now, as well.

***

No one but Mrs. Jin even remembered the Tenra family… which made sense, if they’d kept to themselves after tragedy struck. Mrs. Jin would have been a young woman when it had happened, but most of the town elderly were in their 70’s or 80’s; they’d have been children. It didn’t seem that there was anyone as old as Mrs. Jin, or even close.

If she wanted more detail on Ji-Wen’s mother and father—particularly mother – she’d have to go back to the Archives. But she wasn’t lying to flatter the old woman; Mrs. Jin’s stories were a national treasure and should be preserved at all cost. She wanted to stay here and listen to more of them. And she wanted to know more about this protector spirit. Would she be able to find independent corroboration in the death records of the government agents disappearing? That too was a question for the Archives, but to ask it, Karula needed more of the details.

***

Mrs. Wang wasn’t originally from Bangji, and Mr. Wang waxed garrulous about all the things he’d seen in his travels, but wasn’t nearly as talkative about anything local. It took conversing with six retired people before she found someone who could give her more information about the protector spirit.

Mr. Sho was in his 70’s, but still quite vigorous. “It’s all the fish!” he boasted. “Here in Bangji, we eat nothing but fish, and it keeps us healthy and strong!”

“I can see that,” Karula said. “I’m surprised no one but Mrs. Wang seems to be in their 90’s. All of you retired people seem so healthy!”

“Good health is a treasure,” Mr. Sho agreed. “But we do our duty. Jin Tai-Lee is the town grandmother, you know. We all love her.”

“Yes, she seems so.”

“So we don’t let her go to the temple. Better we go, before our health starts to fail us.”

Karula blinked. When had they gotten onto the subject of attending the temple? “Which temple?”

“There’s only one,” Mr. Sho said. “The shrine of the protector spirit. Where we sacrifice part of what we catch. Large fish, when we bring them in. Many fish, when we can’t get a big one. One time we gave a bucket of crabs!” He laughed.

“And the elder people in the village do this?”

Mr. Sho nodded. “Sometimes the protector doesn’t like the offering. Well, gods and spirits and demons, they all must get bored with the same food every day.”

“What happens if the protector doesn’t like the offering?”

Mr. Sho leaned forward, his expression very serious. “It’s absolutely vital to do, you know. No one comes to Bangji anymore. There used to be bandits and pirates, and the protector spirit would save us. Then there were people from the government, who wanted us to live the way they were trying to force the rest of the country. But nowadays there’s nobody. We drive trucks full of fish down the road, now it’s paved, and we drive on back. No one for the spirit to protect us from.”

“So without anyone for the spirit to protect you from, I guess you’re afraid it’ll be angry and bored if you don’t give it good offerings?”

“If it doesn’t like the offering… it would be very bad for it to come back to the village to find one it prefers,” Mr. Sho said somberly. “So we old people bring it, and that way, if it doesn’t like the offering we provided, well…”

“Wait. Are you telling me the protector spirit – the protector spirit takes elderly people as a sacrifice?”

Mr. Sho nodded. Karula couldn’t see any sign on his face or in his voice that he was joking.

“Is there a specific time it’s done? Would it be safe for me to go up to the shrine, or would the spirit assume I’m a sacrifice?”

“Nobody knows anymore,” Mr. Sho said, sadly. “We do what we can, but the spirit… well, we don’t speak ill of it. It might be listening.”

“It’s not protecting you?”

“We don’t know if it is or not,” Mr. Sho said. “All we know is what we have lost.”

***

“I’m probably going to return to the Archives for a while,” Karula said, as Mrs. Wang served dinner. It was a bed-and-breakfast, not a bed-and-breakfast-and-dinner, but Mrs. Wang was treating Karula more like an actual houseguest than a paying guest. “But I’ll be back.”

“I wanted you to play with me!” Lai-Mei said angrily. “You’ve only been here a few days!”

Karula smiled indulgently. “Maybe I could find time to play with you tomorrow. My train won’t leave until afternoon.”

“Lai-Mei, this is a guest. Behave yourself!” Mrs. Wang scolded.

“It’s all right,” Karula said.

“There aren’t any children around here for her to play with,” Mr. Wang said apologetically.

Karula remembered Mrs. Wang telling her that there weren’t many children here because some of them had disappeared, possibly taken by wild animals. She’d wondered, then, why the police hadn’t been called, why there hadn’t been extensive searches. Yes, this was far out into the countryside, but how could anyone do nothing when children were disappearing?

But Mr. Sho had implied, very strongly, that the protector spirit needed to be appeased with the lives of the elderly citizens who brought the sacrifices, from time to time. And that if they didn’t, the spirit would come to the village to find something to take.

Modern Senchai’a scholarship followed the same line as the South. There was no such thing as spirits. Nothing supernatural in the world. No dragons, no fish-birds, no qilin. Everything could be explained as fossils that ancient people had found and speculated on, or mistakes humans had made long in the past that had been carried forward in legend. Karula hadn’t truly expected to find any evidence that any of the stories she collected had any reality to them.

And yet… it didn’t surprise her. Somehow. She considered it a genuinely reasonable theory that a protector spirit turned malevolent might have taken children – to eat? What did the protector spirit do with the sacrifices? – because it wasn’t pleased with the quality of what had been provided to it.

Was she being too credulous? Probably. Was this most likely the nonsense of peasants without any modern education? That could well be. But what if it was real?

She needed to see the death certificates. She needed to see how many children had been born here, and how many had died. She needed to return to the Archives.

But first, she wanted to see the shrine.

***

The sun had just come up the next morning when, fortified with one of Mrs. Wang’s hot breakfasts, Karula headed for the cliff where the shrine to the protector was.

Bangji was a tiny bump of a peninsula, bounded on one side by the start of the Mingshen Mountains and on the other side by thick forest, which climbed up the mountains to the extent that it could. The shrine looked out over the cliffside that faced the ocean, looking toward the east and the sunrise. There was a winding path up the side of the cliff, with steps.

It took her an hour to make it all the way up. She was young and healthy, her legs strong; she wondered how long it took elderly people to get up here, carrying a big fish. How did they get a tuna up these steps? A large tuna would need two people to carry it at the best of times. She tried to imagine two old men, trying to tandem-carry a gigantic slippery fish, up a mountainside staircase that took a young healthy person an hour. Then she imagined that those two old men knew that if their protector spirit didn’t like the tuna, they themselves might be eaten.

After all that, the shrine itself was an anticlimax. Throughout most of Senchai, temples were large, elaborate things, or at least as large and elaborate as poverty-stricken locals had been able to build. During the revolution many of them had been destroyed, but when the new leadership came in after the revolutionary leader had died, their push to restore Senchai’s lost traditions in the name of nationalism had gotten most of those rebuilt with modern materials and architecture. They were also, generally, shrines to ancestors. The spirit worship thing was more like you’d find in Niyong, to the east. Which was not that shocking; much of Senchai’s eastern coast had a lot of Niyong’s culture, customs and food intermixed with their own. And with Bangji being relatively isolated from the mainland, it was even more likely.

But Karula had never seen any evidence that Niyong’s spirits were real, let alone that they’d travel to Senchai for worship.

An actual Niyong shrine would generally be made of wood. Bangji’s was made of stone instead; there was plenty of easily accessible stone nearby, as the cliff face was a plateau, with another cliff a short distance inland, on top of it. It was a simple rectangular building with terra cotta tiles for a roof and white and gray stones mortared together for its walls. Inside, a candle burned in front of a tapestry showing Bangji, from the perspective of the shrine on the cliff, so the individual buildings were embroidered too small to make out much detail about them. There was no representation of the protector spirit itself anywhere, but there were some smashed pieces of terra cotta that might have once been statues.

Outside, facing the ocean, there was a very large stone circle with a very small stone wall ringed around it, and a pedestal about twice as high as the tiny wall in its center. Stains on the pedestal and a slightly fishy smell suggested that here was the place they sacrificed to their protector.

There was no evidence of a real protector spirit here. There was no evidence of human blood, but there was probably a lot more fish sacrificed than people, so that proved little. None of it told Karula anything except that Bangji had borrowed some customs from Niyong, which was hardly a surprise.

Two-thirds of the way down the steps, she was met by Lai-Mei. “Elder Sister! I thought you’d gone back to Nandijao and forgotten your promise!” the little girl said indignantly.

There was either a protector spirit, a wild animal, or an evil human being taking children from the town and killing or kidnapping them. Karula felt cold. Had the Wangs never told Lai-Mei the danger, or was she just that headstrong and self-confident? “Why aren’t you home? Don’t you know it’s dangerous out here?”

“I wanted to find you. I was afraid you left.”

“I told you I wasn’t leaving until afternoon, and it’s dangerous out here. Lai-Mei, the reason you don’t have playmates your own age is that children have died. Or vanished. It’s not safe for you.”

“But it’s safe for you?”

“I haven’t heard of young adults disappearing.”

“It happens sometimes,” Lai-Mei said vaguely. “But we can be careful. I want to play a game of hide and seek with you!”

“I was going to go back to the house and change clothes. I’ve been up the mountain and I’m all sweaty.”

“What’s the point to that? If you play with me you’ll just get sweaty again, right?”

The child had a fair point. “…all right. But why don’t we go down to the base of the cliff? I don’t feel like this is a safe place for hide-and-seek.”

“Okay!” Lai-Mei began skipping down the stairs. Even with longer legs, Karula had to rush to keep up. She smiled indulgently. She could see where the Wangs’ complaint about Lai-Mei’s energy levels came from.

The base of the staircase was an area Karula had explored fairly extensively since coming to Bangji, though obviously she couldn’t know it as well as a child who’d lived here for years. Lai-Mei turned and looked up at her as Karula stepped off the stairs. "Now let’s play Hide-and-Seek," she said, a bright smile on her face. "And if I find you and catch you, I'll turn into a dragon and eat you up."

Karula grinned. Children's sense of the fantastic always delighted her. "And after you eat me up, then I'll chase you?"

She laughed. "You won't be doing anything. You'll be eaten."

"Oh, of course," Karula said, still smiling. "All right, I'll go and hide, and you count to a hundred."

"To ten."

"Oh, no, it has to be a hundred. I'm a stranger to this area-- you need to give me time to find a good hiding spot." Karula took games very seriously, and had no intention of losing to Lai-Mei. She thought it was wrong, in general, to throw competitions to make kids feel better; adults who deliberately lost to children gave them an inflated sense of their own ability. And in some senses, her mother’s death by fire when she was a young child had aged her, made her too burdened to easily make friends with the carefree innocents most children were. She had missed out on a lot of this kind of simple play when she’d been a child herself. Maybe she was enough of a child to want to win the game for its own sake.

"That's fair. To a hundred, then." Her smile showed tiny white teeth.

Lai-Mei covered her face with her hands to count. Karula ran through the woods. She could think of several places she’d found in her explorations that would make good hiding places.

It was a forest. At the base of a cliff. There were plenty of large rocks jutting out of the ground, and plenty of tree coverage and brush. Karula found a spot behind one of the large rocks, where a scrubby bush had grown because a tree couldn’t take root near such a large rock. She was able to climb over the rock and carefully lower herself into the spot where the bush met the rock, shoving parts of it out of the way. Lai-Mei would be too short to see that the top had been disturbed, and from the front of the bush, there’d be no disturbance visible.

She was alone with her breathing for all of two minutes. Then a shriek split the air. “Found you!”

Karula looked up, expecting to congratulate the girl on her expert finding skills.

Lai-Mei was standing on the rock… looming. There was no other way to describe it. Like a tiny nine-year-old girl suddenly had enormous invisible mass, ready to reach down and crush. And her pupils had turned to slits, like a cat’s.

"I see you," Lai-Mei caroled. "And now I'm going to eat you up."

It made no sense why Karula suddenly felt fear. This was still a nine year old girl. Lai-Mei’s smile was full of sharp teeth now, tearing carnivore teeth, and her pupils were slits, but she was a child. Still, Karula rolled herself sideways along the rock to get out of the brush, and started running as soon as she was out.

Lai-Mei leapt down from the rock, over the bush, which should not have been possible for a child her age, and landed. Karula knew this, not because she was watching – her eyes were focused in front because she was running – but because she heard the thump of the child’s landing, a short distance behind her, and no sound of rustling branches or leaves. She glanced behind herself, once, very quickly. Lai-Mei was there, grinning hugely now, her mouth all teeth, and her skin had started to take on the mottled pattern of scales.

Karula kept running.

Around trees, rocks, bushes. Through all kinds of cover. Dodging this way and that. And behind her, Lai-Mei never faltered, never stumbled. She laughed, the high-pitched laugh of a little girl playing a fun game, as she chased after Karula, and the sound of the laughter was never cut off by heavy breathing. This was easy for her. Fun. She was playing cat and mouse, dragging out the game.

“Do the Wangs know?” Karula screamed back over her shoulder when Lai-Mei was entirely too close.

That sobered the girl slightly. She stopped shrieking and giggling. “No, they don’t, and I don’t want them to. They’re my parents! I’m here to keep them safe.” Then she giggled again. “I get really hungry, though…”

Karula was rapidly running out of breath herself. She used her adult height to grab a tree branch that was too tall for Lai-Mei – too tall for herself, really, but amazing how high a person can jump when their life depends on it – and pulled herself, with arm strength and then support from her legs walking up the tree, onto the branch. Lai-Mei looked up at her. “Do you think that’s going to stop me?” she giggled.

“I want to know why,” Karula said. “Why me?”

“You’re an outsider. I can’t eat any more children. People with children are moving out of the town. They’ve been here, their families, for hundreds of years and they’re running away because of me. I have to protect Bangji, and that means I can’t have people just running away and moving out. If they keep doing that there won’t be a town.”

“Have you considered maybe eating the fish they bring you?”

Lai-Mei made a face. “I ate fish. I ate a lot of fish. Fish is boring all the time! And the old people who bring it are crunchy, like I burned them. They don’t taste burnt, but they haven’t got any more juice in them than if I did. I want prey who’ll run away from me and get their blood pumping, and I don’t want it to be anyone who lives in Bangji. That means you.”

“You’re not the original protector spirit, are you. What happened to it?” The longer she could keep the girl talking, the more of her breath and strength she could get back. Also, the scholar in her wanted to know, even if she was about to die.

Lai-Mei shrugged. “Dunno. Probably got killed in the revolution or the purges or something. A lot of dragons died that way. My parents probably did too. I didn’t even know I was a dragon until I came here and went to school and then I saw pictures.”

“You’re a fire-breather? So, a land dragon?”

“I don’t know. I just told you, all I know about dragons is what I’ve read! It’s not like anyone ever came along to take me to dragon school or something.”

Dragons taking human form. The massive upheavals of the revolution, and the rebellions, the counter-revolutions, the purges. A quarter century or more of violence. Things in Senchai were peaceful now, but hadn’t been as little as ten years ago. Nandijao and Jiangpao had been peaceful enough, civilized, calm, but her father had had to flee or else he’d have been taken in the night like his friends were, and out in the countryside, government officials had still been bringing down soldiers on the heads of small towns like Bangji, because they weren’t “modernizing” fast enough. Maybe they still were.

Karula thought of a dragon in human form killed by gunfire, or a bomb, a level of violence that even a fantastic, magical creature had never evolved to deal with. She thought of an egg left behind, of a baby born able to shapeshift, and humans taking in a wandering child. Senchai’a dragons were supposed to be ancient and wise, but how would you ever get to be ancient and wise if you were young, and untaught by any of your own kind? “Why do you have a last name, then?”

Lai-Mei giggled. “Haven’t you figured it out?” She traced a character in the air with her finger. “Lun!” And the character she traced, the word she spoke, was the word they’d both just been using. Dragon.

“The Children’s Center taught me how to read and write when I was very little, and I learned to hide myself. I could only eat the other children if it was safe to. I wanted to go someplace where there would be more to eat, so I ran away and I found the Wangs, and Bangji. I found that they feed dragons here, as long as the dragon protects them. So I told them my name was Lun Lai-Mei. But I never told them the characters.” She sketched her true name in the air. Dragon Pursue Fierce.

“You have the order wrong,” Karula said. “You should have been Lun Mei-Lai. ‘The fierce dragon is coming?’ The way you have it, it sounds like ‘the dragon pursues ferocity’.”

“I’m going to kill and eat you, and you’re correcting my grammar? I was three! Or four, I don’t remember exactly.”

She changed, unfolding from a girl-child to a small dragon. A land dragon, with the serpentine body of a Senchai’a dragon, and wings, and nostrils that snorted puffs of sulfur. She was no bigger than a minivan and no longer than a hearse, and her head was just slightly larger than an adult’s proportions would be, but she was definitely a dragon.

"You see, Elder Sister?" she laughed. "I've caught you now, and become a dragon. And now I'll eat you up."

I’m going to die here, Karula thought. She could jump out of the tree and keep running, but she had no advantages against Lai-Mei anymore; the dragon was bigger than her, and could fly, and her serpentine body could probably twist through the trees. There was no way she was going to get out of this one.

Not like this. Not without… not without the fire.

It had started when she was a teenager. A candle, a gas burner, a fireplace… any fire mesmerized her, and she’d had intrusive thoughts about self-immolation. Like her mother, who’d run back into their burning home. As she’d gotten older it had only gotten worse. Her food had to be hot, but she couldn’t cook it herself if there was a flame involved, or she’d put her hand in it, try to immolate herself. She’d come here hoping to find out why, if there was a connection of some kind between the things she felt and the way her mother had died… and she’d found evidence that her grandmother and her great-grandmother had died the same way.

She’d wanted to find something to save herself. But if she was going to die anyway… she wanted to taste the fire.

“Are you sure you’re a dragon there?” Karula taunted her. “You look to me more like a big dog.”

“…What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me.” Karula grinned, as insolently as she could manage. “You call yourself a dragon? Maybe a lion.”

Lai-Mei lunged at her with a shriek, but Karula dropped to the ground, dodging the large mouth. “Oh, yes, use your teeth!” she yelled mockingly. “Dragons are supposed to be ancient and wise, not brute beasts! But sure, you’re totally a dragon!”

“Nothing you say will matter when I tear you apart!” Lai-Mei growled.

“Oh, but you’ll remember it. You want to think of yourself as a big strong dragon because you managed to terrorize some children and some superstitious old people, but I know the truth! If you were a dragon, you’d be able to flame me to death, but you haven’t even tried! You don’t even have any flame!”

“I’ll show you flame!” Lai-Mei snarled, and breathed a blast at Karula.

Karula screamed.

It burned, it was agony, but it was a cleansing agony, like the feeling of ripping off a scab or drenching a cut in rubbing alcohol, times a thousand. It was agony, but it felt right, it felt like she had been waiting for this all her life. She fell backward into light so blinding and red it was the same as darkness, as her flesh charred away. But her scream never stopped, growing higher in pitch and harsher, more tinny, and wings unfolded from somewhere as their prison of human flesh burned away, and her scream was the shriek of a giant bird. And her eyes opened.

Lai-Mei slithered backward a few steps and reared her head back, startled. “What—”

And Karula knew, now.

The memories of her mother, her grandmother, her great-grandmother, ancestor after ancestor going back thousands of years. Give birth to an egg and set yourself aflame so the baby bird will carry all your memories, all that you are. Learn to take human form. Branch out, have more children. Boys who will carry the trait into the human population, so there will be more of your kind, eventually, more lineages. Girls who will become you as soon as they die in fire.

Karula was the Phoenix, and had always been, as her mother before her, and her mother’s mother, and backward to the dawn of time. And the Phoenix didn’t die in the flames. The flames burned and purified, took away the human shell if the Phoenix was born in one. The ancients had had it wrong. There was more than one Phoenix and there had been for thousands of years, but within a single lineage, the daughters all carried the memories of the mothers and all the ancestors backward through time.

She spread her wings and shrieked again.

Lai-Mei screamed. "What-- what are you? You-- you were human--!!"

"No more human than you, little dragon," Karula called to her, with a voice that was the song of a bird. "I am the Phoenix. I was your guest, and you tried to kill me."

She rose into the air, wings flapping, and then dove at the dragon with a predatory screech. Lai-Mei breathed another blast of fire at Karula, but the flames that seared her strengthened her, so soon after her rebirth. She raked at the dragon’s eyes with her talons.

Screaming, Lai-Mei took wing herself, flying like an awkward chick. She wasn’t used to flight, not combat flight, not against an equal opponent. Karula was smaller than the dragon, but not by much; the part of her that was still Karula the human scholar wondered how she could possibly be flying at the size she was, and how Lai-Mei could possibly be flying, when both of them were far too large for their wingspans. The part of her that was the immortal Phoenix knew that the physics of the human world didn’t apply here. Karula flew ahead of her, almost effortlessly, still mocking her. She had never flown before, but she was the Phoenix and had flown a thousand thousand times, and in that she had far more experience than the nine-year-old dragon.

Though Lai-Mei ripped at Karula and blasted flame, the bird’s greater knowledge of flight made her more maneuverable. She dodged each time, easily, taunting the dragon-child with challenges that were fierce bird cries. Karula’s beak and talons were less deadly-- she scored the dragon many times, drawing blood, but there was no hope of defeating her that way. Instead, she maddened the child, so that when Karula winged away from her, Lai-Mei followed, coming after her as the name she’d chosen suggested.

Karula flew and flew, and Lai-Mei followed and followed, always to the east. They closed with each other more than once, Lai-Mei’s teeth closing on fiery feathers, Karula’s talons slicing a leathery wing – but Karula would always break free, climb and head east, and Lai-Mei followed in her rage. And thenthey were over the deep ocean.

Karula climbed steeply, straight toward the sun. As the sunbird, the Phoenix, the bird of fire, she could look straight into the sun without penalty. It was not the same for the dragon. Land dragons were creatures of caves and mountains, with no more resistance to the light of the sun than a human would have. Lai-Mei tried to pursue upward, but was blinded. She leveled off, looking around herself for the phoenix, glancing upward sometimes… but never far enough upward. It wasn’t noon yet, but it was close enough that aiming straight at the sun brought Karula almost directly to the top of the sky.

She dove then, landing hard at the scruff of the dragon’s neck, and dug in with her talons, pinching off the nerves to the wings and paralyzing them, as her weight drove them both downward. Lai-Mei screamed and struggled, her wings beating feebly and erratically. The pressure points to fully paralyze her wings weren’t accessible to a phoenix’s talons, but near-paralysis and weakness would do the job as well. She twisted her serpentine body and tried to bite Karula, but the bird was in exactly the position that the dragon couldn’t reach her from, and Karula’s enormous wings drove both of them down toward the ocean.

When Lai-Mei hit the ocean, she sizzled and steamed. The sea dragon who’d been Bangji’s protector spirit, long before Lai-Mei’s birth, would have thrived in the ocean… but that dragon wouldn’t have breathed fire. And wouldn’t have eaten the children in the town she was supposedly protecting.

Karula took care not to touch the water herself as she submerged the thrashing baby dragon, and with the power of her wings she held her there, Lai-Mei’s head thrust down by the bite of Karula’s talons in just the right places, until her struggles weakened.

She turned into a human girl again, causing Karula to reflexively let go of her as the feeling of thick scale under her talons changed to soft human flesh. Lai-Mei bobbed to the surface, gasping, and looked up at Karula pleadingly through the waves. "I'll be good!" she wheezed, struggling to stay afloat and to get enough air. "Please, let me go, Karula! I'll never hurt anyone ever again!"

Karula hesitated. Could the little dragon truly be blamed for knowing nothing of what it meant to be a dragon, of having the morality of a beast, when she had lost her dragon parents and mentors before she even hatched? And it would break the Wangs’ heart when Lai-Mei never returned.

As it had broken the hearts of the parents of Bangji when their own children had never come home.

There was no blame here. No moral culpability. Lai-Mei had become a monster. It didn’t matter whose fault it was that she had done so. It was tragic how the dragons had failed her, how the people of Senchai and their violence had failed the dragons. But she had eaten human flesh. The human Karula Lefaire might have wanted to take pity on a little girl… but the Phoenix knew that, to protect the dragons and the phoenixes, all the wild magical creatures of the world, and to protect the humans as well, a magical beast who’d eaten human flesh couldn’t be allowed to live.

She landed on the child, letting her weight push the girl underwater. Lai-Mei thrashed and struggled, and tried to pull Karula down into the water with her, where her own magic would fizzle and be extinguished. But Karula had wings, and they were stronger than anything a human child’s strength could bring to bear.

In the water, a human could live longer than a land dragon, whose fire was part of their life force. But humans couldn’t breathe water either. Karula held Lai-Mei under until she stopped moving and air stopped bubbling out of her mouth.

The “protector” of Bangji was dead. She had never been an adequate protector – the price she’d taken from the village for her protection had been far, far too high. But the village expected a protector, and in a nation where bureaucratic zeal was fond of stomping out dissidence, variance, and any deviance from the One True Approved Way, a tiny village that held to the old ways in so many things was in danger, without a protector.

Karula climbed toward the sun again, and then banked, turning toward the village. Someday perhaps she would be human again; someday she might bear a daughter to be the Phoenix after her. And having already undergone her transformation and mastered her relationship with fire, she wouldn’t be compelled to immolate herself before the daughter was old enough to understand. She’d be able to teach her child before once again becoming the bird of fire. Someday. Perhaps.

But right now, there was a village whose only protection from a harsh central government that demanded obedience and order… was floating dead in the waves, with the marks of Karula’s talons in her flesh. And that meant Karula had an obligation.

She swept over the town, once, her fiery wings making a contrail in the air as she passed. The villagers looked up at her in amazement. And then she turned, and climbed again, and landed at the shrine.

On the land she could hunt for herself, but she could not dive into the sea to catch fish. There were no large wild animals around here, and people needed their goats and pigs to survive. She would not take from humans what they needed to live any more than she would take their lives.

But she hoped they would bring the next offering soon. She was hungry. And she hoped it would be hot.

***

Sorry, apparently 11 am on Monday is the new best time for posting my 52 Project fics? Still gonna try to get the next one out by Friday, though.

#52 project #fantasy #china but not really

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honeypirate · 4 years ago

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jan 6 2017

I’m posting this bc I thought it was cute. I don’t remember writing it but I want to post it so I can keep it forever. Hasn’t been edited for three years.

Spencer and original character fic

Opposites Attract

Chapter one

Jane walked into the elevator and pressed the floor’s button.

“You can do this. You deserve this job. No one else wants this job more than you. This is your dream. This has been your dream your entire life. You have been to school for practically nine years preparing yourself for this. An undergrad in philosophy, a master’s degree in psychology with a minor in sociology, and you got your doctorate in forensic psychology. You are ready. You are prepared. You can do this.” Jane smiles as the elevator doors open. She steps out onto the floor of what seemed to be a very busy office. ‘So this is the BAU’ Jane thought to herself. A tall, dark, and extremely handsome man approached you. “Hi” the man looked you over obviously checking you out. “I’m Agent Derek Morgan. Can I help you?” he reaches his hand out, you take it and firmly shake it “Hi, my name is Jane August Mills. I have a meeting with –“ you were cut off “Miss Mills. In here” you looked up at the man who was walking back into his office across the room. You looked at Derek and he winked at you. “just relax Jane. He’s a lot softer than you would think.” She smiled and laughed nervously as she made her way across the office all eyes watching. Before she entered she swallowed and regained as much of her composure as she could. “Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner, thank you for meeting with me” she said as she stepped into his office. He was looking at a file, “shut the door” He said without looking up. Jane knew it was her file. She closed the door and sat down in the chair across from him. “Why do you want to work for the FBI?” the question caught her a little off guard. She didn’t know why. She prepared for this. He didn’t look up as she answered the question. “as you probably know, my sister was murdered by a serial killer fifteen years ago. She was kidnapped when she was ten. I barely even knew her.” He nods and finally looks up at you. Jane meets his gaze, trying to look professional. “after that, I had a hard time. The guy was never caught and he is now presumed dead. Because of that time in my life I decided that I never watched another family to feel the way mine did, I dedicated myself to become the person who could fight for these families. To help them find the closure I never had. I want to make a positive difference in this country and I believe that I am prepared to do so.” She said the last sentence with conviction. She knew she was ready, “well, Miss Mills, I believe that you are qualified on paper, but I won’t be sure until I see you in the field. We have a case that just came in and if you can start now, we will reassess your qualifications at the end of the case.” Agent Hotchner says, his facial expression never changing. “Absolutely. Thank you for the opportunity. I hope to prove to you that I can do this.” He stands up and shakes Jane’s hand. “Follow me”

Agent Hotchner leads Jane into a large room with a table and a projector, the seats around the table were almost all full. She looks around at everyone, Derek winks and smiles at her, his eyes saying something like ‘I knew it’. Her eyes found a man, a boy really, with a mop of curls on his head and a quizzical brow. She couldn’t figure him out. “Everyone, this is Jane Mills. By the end of this case she very well may be joining our team.” Hotchner says and then turns to Jane “Have a seat” He says and she nods, walking over to the empty seat next to Derek and across from the man boy.

“It is wonderful to meet you! I am Penelope Garcia! This is Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, whom I say you already met this morning, David Rossi, and our boy genius, Spencer Reid”. Jane smiles, “It’s my pleasure to meet you all.” “What do we have Garcia?” Hotchner says. She felt eyes on her. As Garcia lunches into the case she flicks her gaze across the table at the boy genius, he was staring into her eyes and she felt herself blush. He shakes his head slightly and looks down as Jane turns her attention to Garcia.

“On to the icky news.” Garcia clicks the remote and a picture flashes on screen “Jasmine Holliday, 32, a teacher in long island, was murdered while on vacation in Florida last week. She is the fifth woman to be found in the area within the month. All of the victims were from different areas on vacation in the area. All victims were hung and then after they were dead their ankles were cut and they were bled dry.”

“were their signs of sexual assault?” Spencer speaks up, his voice gave Jane butterflies for some weird reason, she shakes it off. “None.” Derek scoots his chair closer and shares his file with Jane. She smiles at him her thanks.

Jane speaks up, “so this unsub, abducts women on vacation between the ages of 20 and 35, and then murders them to drain them of blood. What is he doing with their blood?”

“That is what we are going to find out. Morgan, take jane back to her apartment to get her a go bag. Wheels up in 45” Hotchner responds and then stands and leaves the room, everyone else following.

“I need to grab something back at my place, mind if I come along?” Spencer asks “Of course, but be quick. Come on jane lets go. You can tell us all about yourself on the ride.” Derek winks at her again and she feels her cheeks get warm. “I don’t know how much I can tell in the short amount of time it takes to get to my apartment. I live just around the corner” Jane laughs and follows them out. “Down the block on the left?” Spencer asks and she nods “I live there as well. I must has seen you there before. That’s why you look so familiar.” “Wow. What a small world” jane comments as she gets in the back of the SUV Derek led them to.

Back in the plane Jane was seated in the back next to Spencer, he was reading a book about psychology? Sociology? Jane wasn’t pang attention. This was her first time flying and she was nervous. She tried to pay attention to Hatch bunt to be honest she couldn’t keep up. She heard something about jasmine Holliday being abducted at a gas station, just like the other girls, but as the plane started to take off she closed her eyes. “this is your first time flying” it was a statement, not a question. An observance by Spencer. She released the breath she was holding and nodded. “it’s kind of obvious huh?” Jane didn’t even look at him. She felt him turn his body towards her. “you’re safe, Jane.” He whispers and lightly grabbed her hand. She opened her eyes and when they met his she was immediately calm and relaxed. “thank you Spencer” she whisper back and he started to rub circles on her hand with his thumb. He didn’t let go until they landed, you noticed that Morgan kept staring at your hands with the weirdest look.

“Jane, Spencer, and Morgan, go talk to the boyfriend of Jasmine, JJ and Prentiss go to the dump site, and Rossi and I will go see the families of the other victims when they come to the police station.”

“do you mind if we look around?” Jane asked Jasmine’s boyfriend, Jimmy, who just nodded. Spencer seemed to have this covered so Jane and Morgan took a look around the house, eventually making it back to the bedroom. “he doesn’t do that, you know.” Morgan said once they were alone “doesn’t do want?” Jane asked him “ he doesn’t touch people. He doesn’t like germs.” Morgan said while going through the bedside table. Janes hand still tingled where Spencer was touching her. Her heart beat an little faster and her face flushed. “oh?” she said, barely a whisper. She just met this man boy and he had such a hold on her heart already. She pushed down her feelings, being experienced in the field of unrequited feelings she has learned to keep her feelings to herself. Morgan was about to say something but stopped when spencer came into the room. “you guys find anything?” he asks and Morgan tells him that you hadn’t. there was nothing left to do here and Spencer decided to fill you in with what he found out at the police station with everyone else.

She knew that she didn’t know him very well, but she felt compelled to approach him. She felt this pull in her ribs that was connected to him. She had to speak to him, she couldn’t take him looking so miserable and gloomy. “You make a difference you know, one person at a time” he looked up into her eyes and nods. Jane pulls him into a hug, she knew he wasn’t big on personal contact but she couldn’t help herself. Spencer was hesitant but he eventually relaxed and gave into it. They stood together for a while, it felt comfortable

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #Spencer Reid imagine #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff

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limjaeseven · 5 years ago

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MINE

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

AU: Yandere

Genre: Angst, Smut

Word Count: 8,569

Warnings: Masturbation, unprotected sex, stalking, minor and major character death, obsessive behaviour, mentions of murder, kidnapping

Note: This fic has been written with a changing perspective i.e. the point of view changes between y/n and Jungkook with every paragraph.

[a/n]: Happy Valentine's Day to the lovely @btsracket. I'm so sorry for the delay but I really hope you enjoy it. This fic was a lot of fun to write and I tried experimenting with a new style so I hope you like it :)

Jungkook was in love with you. There was no better way to explain the feelings he felt towards you. You were his entire world. All he could think about was you. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, make love to you and tell you how perfect you were. He wanted to do it all and more but there was a catch. He had never actually met you.

You were the third year literature student who loved English and philosophy. Everyone knew you for one, your unique fashion sense, because you refused to wear anything that wasn't black and two, your no nonsense attitude. No one would dare to cross you. You were a friendly and cheerful person in general but had a bad side that everyone was absolutely terrified of.

Jeon Jungkook on the other hand was a first year architecture student who was also known for two things, one, his model gorgeous looks and two, his mysterious personality. He never spoke in class and didn't bother interacting with his fellow classmates. Camera in hand, he was just seen roaming around campus clicking photos.

You were walking around campus one day when you saw a flyer asking seniors to apply for a programme to help juniors with subjects in which they were failing. You yourself had a tough time with some topics and it was your senior and best friend Jaebum, who had helped you. Checking the flyer to figure out where to sign up, you headed for the main office. Once there, you spoke to one of your professors who was there, telling him you wanted to help out and he noted your name down, telling you he'd get back to you.

Jungkook had been failing his philosophy class. He knew very well that the only reason he took the class was in hopes of meeting you but his dreams crumbled when his teacher was changed at the last minute, meaning you weren't in his class. Jungkook hated philosophy. He just wanted to pass class and maintain his GPA. So when his teacher recommended him to join the tutoring programme to get some help, he agreed, albeit reluctantly.

It had been a week since you had signed up and your philosophy professor finally called you in, telling you that your partner had been picked. You hoped you got a decent person because you weren't used to tutoring. You packed your bag after your English professor left the class, heading straight for your philosophy professor's office. When you entered, there was what looked like a first year student sitting across from your professor.

Jungkook was walking towards the cafeteria to get some food when he met his philosophy professor. She told him that someone had been found to tutor him and he was told to head to the office of the other philosophy professor. The teacher greeted the young man and asked him to sit. After about five minutes of discussing Jungkook's prospects of passing the class, the door opened. He turned around in shock to see you standing there in all your glory.

"Yes y/n, come in. Meet Jungkook, he's a first year student that needed some help with philosophy. I was hoping you could help him out with the subject? He is on the verge of failing but he has a lot of potential and I really think you'd be the perfect person to guide him" Your professor said.

You nodded at him, extending your hand to greet Jungkook. "Hello Jungkook, I'm y/n and it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm looking forward to helping you out" You said with a smile. He gave you a firm handshake before pulling his hand back and the professor excused you both.

Jungkook could not believe his luck. After taking philosophy and not ending up in the same class as you, fate and brought you two together and made you his tutor. You looked even more beautiful up close, he noted as he introduced himself to you. He chatted with you about why he couldn't understand the subject and suggested that you two should meet up twice a week for the tutoring sessions.

You couldn't help but stare at Jungkook as he spoke to you. The man was absolutely gorgeous to the point where it was unfair to be that good looking. When he recommended to meet twice a week, you told him you were free on Wednesdays and Saturdays and the timing of five pm to seven pm fit your schedule the best.

Jungkook didn't actually care what time to said that you were free, he was willing to change and or drop anything and everything for you. Fortunately your schedule matched up with his pretty well so he instantly agreed to your proposal. He decided to be a little brave and asked for you number and you handed him your phone, telling him to save his number on your phone first and you then gave him a missed call so that he could save your number.

But before he could do anything, you grabbed his phone and saved your number as "y/n (philosophy queen ;)" and clicked a quick sefie and saved the image. You also took your phone and snapped a photo of Jungkook and saved it as a part of his contact in your phone. You gave him your address and told him to come to your place on the subsequent Saturday at five before bidding him adieu.

Jungkook spend the entire evening that day, staring at the selfie you had clicked. He couldn't believe what was happening. You spoke to him, shook his hand, laughed at his jokes and promised to help him out. He had dreamed of days like this but never had he expected it to actually happen. He couldn't wait for Saturday to finally get to be with you, alone.

You went back that day, satisfied by the fact that you were doing something good for one of your juniors. Jungkook was a really good looking guy but you saw him mostly as just a fellow student and junior. And besides, you had a huge crush on the college's bad boy Min Yoongi. He was in the same year as you, doing a music production degree. He was just your type. You had spoken to him a couple of times during random parties and flirted around a bit but nothing more than that.

Saturday rolled around and Jungkook stood in front of his closet for what felt like an eternity trying to figure out what to wear. He settle on a pair of black ripped jeans and a plain black shirt tucked in along with a pair of black high tops. He quickly styled his hair and left his house, worried that he would get late. He got to your apartment and rang the bell, waiting for you to ring the bell.

"Hey, come in. How did you know my address though? I only gave you my building name" You questioned. You purposely didn't give Jungkook you room number so that he would have to call you to ask you what your address was, giving you a heads-up that he was arriving. "I met my friend downstairs who lives in the same building and asked him if he knew your address and he did" Jungkook explained. Satisfied with his answer, you led him to your bedroom where you usually studied.

Jungkook cursed in his head as he followed you to your room. He should have been more careful. Having been in love with you for a while, he had accumulated a lot of information about you, some through legal and some through not so legal ways. He knew your address really well cause he came by every now and then and would hang around under your building to see you go in and out of it. Once he was brave enough to go up the lift to your floor and pressed his ear against your door and heard your deep bold voice singing some random song. He was unimaginably enamoured by you in every possible way.

You both sat down and spent the next two hours studying. You noticed Jungkook steal a couple of glances but you thought nothing of it and let it be. Jungkook didn't have a great understanding of the subject, you noted. The first session with him was spend by you trying to understand what he knew and didn't know so that you could help him out better. Whenever he got an answer right or said something cute, you smiled at him which cause his adorable bunny smile to pop out which you couldn't help but admire.

You were truly the most beautiful woman Jungkook had ever seen. The way you spoke to the way you smiled and encouraged him when he got something right made him feel butterflies in his stomach. He loved absolutely everything about you. The moment you said that his time was up, he couldn't help but frown a bit. Time had flown by with you next to him. "Hey there is a party at my fraternity house today, do you want to come?" Jungkook offered before he could even could process what he was saying.

"Wait, you're in BTS?" You asked. Beta Theta Sigma, more commonly known as BTS was the most famous fraternity on your campus. Only few were selected to be part of the fraternity. It had a core body of seven members know as the Seven. "Yeah. I'm in the Seven" You're haw dropped at the statement. You had never expected someone so quiet and introverted as Jungkook to be in the Seven.

"I was already planning to go" You told him. He nodded and left the room to let you change. He fished out the mini cameras he had purchased off of eBay and placed them all over your house before connecting them to his phone and checking if the feed was okay. The thing with you was, the more he got to know about you, the more he wanted to know. He had fantasied of seeing you touching yourself and now that was about to become a reality thanks to the cameras he installed.

You quickly threw on a simple outfit made up of a black cropped t-shirt and black tights along with a pair of black converse highs and normal make up. You saw Jungkook sitting on the couch and called out for him. You noticed him turn around and take a moment to admire your simple yet sexy look and led you out the door. You both walked to his frat house making small talk on the way. As you both walked in, people stared at you and you couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable.

Jungkook couldn't believe that you had agreed to come to the party with him. What he loved even more was that you both looked like you were wearing matching outfits and it just made him think about how it would be if you both were dating. He knew your favourite colour was black and that also happened to be Jungkook's favourite colour. People would call it a coincidence but he called it fate. He wanted to introduce you to his six best friends. Only one of them knew that Jungkook liked someone but didn't know who it was.

Jungkook completely ignored everyone at the party and took you to a room inside the frat house. Inside, there were six men lounging on couches and chatting. "Hey Kook, you actually came! Who's this? I've never seen you get a girl to one of our parties" One of the guys said. He was tall and we'll built with a beautiful face. He wore an all pink outfit which would have looked hideous on anyone else but he pulled it off like he was a runway model.

"Hyung this is y/n, y/n this is Jin hyung" He introduced. Jungkook just wanted to spend some time with you but all the boys were intrigued about who you were so they asked you to join them. Jungkook landed up with you next to him in the couch with Yoongi on your other side. The couch was small and Jungkook was already not happy about the lack of space between you and Yoongi. "Hey, y/n! It's been a while since we met, how are you?" Yoongi asked you.

"I'm great, Yoongi. I have been so busy with studies and helping Jungkook out that I haven't had the time to drop by your studio like you'd asked me to" You confessed. Yoongi had once told you to come by his studio and listen to some of his stuff when you both had met at a party. You would be lying if you said you weren't unnecessarily excited when he gave you the offer. Jumping around you room like a 4 year old, your best friend had to come in and calm you down. Yoongi was the perfect match for you. You both had similar personalities, a shared love for music and even liked the same food.

"Wait you know Yoongi hyung?" Jungkook asked you. He was already not happy about how close you two were sitting but on top of that, you knew Yoongi and he offered you to come to his studio. Jungkook was pretty much steaming. He could see the look in your eyes. He recognised it because it's similar to the look he saw in his mind when he looked at the mirror and thought of you. He couldn't imagine you liking Yoongi. You wouldn't do that to him, right?

"That's fine, kitten. Drop by whenever you get time. Can I get you a drink?" Yoongi asked. "Yes please" You replied and Yoongi tapped your thigh twice before getting up. Out of the seven guys, you only knew Jungkook, Yoongi and Jimin, who was a year junior to you. The rest of them introduced themselves to you as Jin, Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung. You smiled at them and engaged in small talk till Yoongi returned with two glasses in his hand, one for you and one for himself. Sitting back down next to you, he spread one arm over the back of the couch behind you.

Jungkook saw Yoongi's arm slowly inching towards your shoulder but before he could say anything, it was resting on you. You leaned into him a little bit as you sipped your drink and Jungkook was beyond mad. He couldn't imagine his own hyung doing this to him. He wanted to be the only one who was allowed to touch you. You were his after all. The way you giggled at Jin's jokes and pouted when Yoongi called you out for having a low standard for jokes made Jungkook unimaginably jealous. "You wanna dance?" Yoongi asked.

You took a moment to process what Yoongi was saying. He not only got you a drink and placed his arm around your shoulder, he also asked you to dance with him. Min Yoongi asked you to dance with him. You were absolutely losing your mind but you still accepted his hand as he pulled you out of the room towards the dance floor. Nervous excitement coursed through your body as he smirked at you. The both you danced to a couple of fast dance songs before the slow, sexy music started playing. You were genuinely having the time of your life.

Jungkook on the other hand was not-so-subtley sulking alone on the couch. Taehyung, Jungkook's best friend noticed this and got up from his seat to sit bedside the younger boy. "What's up, Kook?" He asked. Jungkook just turned away as pulled his phone out, ignoring Taehyung. The older boy sat there and thought for a moment why Jungkook was upset when it clicked. "Was that the girl you like?" Taehyung asked.

As the atmosphere of the room got more steamy, Yoongi started inching closer towards you till your back was pressed up against his chest and you both slowly swayed along to the beat. You took his hands and placed them on your hips, giving him permission to touch you. Yoongi may have looked like a total bad boy on the outside but he was actually a gentleman on the inside. Your heart melted as he kept his hands firmly at your hip, exactly where you had placed them, so as to not make you feel uncomfortable.

"What are you talking about, hyung?" Jungkook asked. He didn't want to admit that he was jealous of Yoongi. "You know what I'm talking about. You're jealous, aren't you?" Taehyung teased. Annoyed, Jungkook stormed out of the room, only to see you pressed up to Yoongi. Your head was tipped back onto his shoulder and his arms were on your hips. Jungkook seethed as you grinded against the older man. Jungkook just stood there, staring at how your body moved to the beat and wished it was him and not Yoongi you were dancing with.

"It's getting late, Yoongi. It's time I head back" You told him. He pouted but nodded and walked with you till the front door. "I'll come with you. It's quite late, it's not safe to walk all the way alone" Yoongi said and before you could rebut him, he grabbed his jacked and held your hand, guiding you outside the frat house. You both shared random stories as you walked back to your place. Yoongi was a perfect mix of bad boy and gentleman that made you fall harder for him. You were standing outside your apartment when he asked you for your number and you happily gave it to him along with a chaste kiss on his cheek before he bid you farewell.

Jungkook saw you whisper something in Yoongi's ear and walk out of the frat house and he followed you. He did his best to stay hidden and trailed behind you two. He felt so jealous that he wanted to hurt his hyung for not only hurting Jungkook but also for having the audacity to touch you. You belonged to him and no one else. You were his and only his. He could feel a sense of sadistic pleasure creep up his body as he thought about torturing Yoongi for what he did to you. His determination to hurt the older boy especially skyrocketed when he saw you giving him your number and kissing him on the cheek.

You opened the door, got inside, slammed it shut and leaned against the door, your hands on your chest. Heart beating crazily, you thought about the events of the night and blushed. You quickly walked to bed and layed there for a while. Thoughts of Yoongi circled your head. His fuckboy vibe, his gentlemanly attitude, his gummy smile and those dark eyes. The slickness in your panties was becoming more obvious as you thought about Yoongi. Though it was a bit embarrassing, you pulled your pants off and circled the tips of your fingers around your clit from over the fabric.

Jungkook followed Yoongi back to the frat house and headed straight for his room. The younger could not even think about having to look at the olders face because all he could think about is you kissing his hyung. Jungkook opened his laptop on his table to see you, lying in bed. Your pants were on the floor as you used your fingers to tease your slit. Pretty moans left your lips as your underwear dampened. Jungkook could feel his own pants tightening up as he watched you.

You discarded the useless fabric from between your legs and started pleasuring yourself properly. Two of your fingers entered your pussy as you thought about running your hands down Yoongi's toned chest. You popped two fingers from your other hand into your mouth and sucked on them, imagining them to be Yoongi's cock.

Jungkook watched raptly as you sucked harshly on your fingers, imagining that it was you sucking him off. He unzipped his pants and kicked both his jeans and his boxers off. He was already hard and leaking precum. Wrapping his fingers around his length, he stroked in time with the fingers in your pussy. The only thing he wanted was for you to moan his name. He imagined you sitting between his legs with your lips wrapped around his cock.

You pulled your fingers out of your mouth and teased your nipples. Breathy moans left your lips as you drew closer to your climax. The thought of Yoongi's deep, raspy voice commanding you to cum had you falling over the edge with a broken moan of his name. A light blush coated your cheeks as your came down from your high and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

Jungkook was on the very edge when he heard you moan Yoongi's name. The younger seethed with rage as he quickened his pace and came all over himself. He cursed under his breath because it was not him you were thinking about as you got yourself off. You didn't love him the way he loved you. Jungkook loved his hyung but if he got in between him and his love, he would not spare the man. Jungkook slammed the laptop shut and cleaned up before heading to bed.

It was early evening on the following Wednesday when you were out for lunch with Yoongi. The two of you had gotten rather close after the party and he asked you out. Your phone started buzzing and you checked to see the called ID. It was Jungkook so you picked up the call. "Noona where are you?" Jungkook asked. You felt like you were forgetting something. "I'm outside, Jungkook. What happened?" You asked.

Jungkook was quite agitated that you weren't at home. "Noona I'm waiting outside your apartment. We were supposed to meet at five" He reminded you. "I'm so sorry, Jungkook, it completely slipped my mind. I'll be there in five minutes" You said before hanging up. Jungkook tapped his foot impatiently as he wondered what you were doing that you forgot about him.

"I'm sorry, Yoongi. I've got to go. I was supposed to help Jungkook out today but it completely slipped my mind" You apologised to your date. "It's totally fine, y/n. I'll text you, we can go out sometime else" He said before leading you out of the restaurant and driving you back to your apartment. You thanked him for dropping you before you got out of the car. He returned you his signature gummy smile before driving away.

Jungkook heard the lift open and turned around to see you walking towards him. "Sorry, Jungkook. I was out for lunch and it completely slipped my mind that we were supposed to meet today" You said while unlocking the door. Jungkook eyed your outfit as he walked behind you. He had never seen you wearing a dress before but the knee length full sleeve sweater dress suited your general aesthetic well.

You had actually never enjoyed wearing dresses much but after Yoongi asked you out you decided to go shopping and stumbled across your current outfit. Even though it was different from your general style, you thought that Yoongi would like and so you bought it. He ended up complementing you, saying that he really liked how the dress looked on you.

Jungkook too loved the way the dress subtly accentuated your beautiful body. It made you look even more perfect in his eyes. The only thing that he didn't like thinking about was that you wore it for someone else. He hoped it wasn't a guy and the you were out with a friend and just wanted to try something new. He couldn't concentrate on what you were teaching because he kept wondering if you had worn the dress for a guy.

You had finished teaching Jungkook a chapter when you got a text from Yoongi. He sent you a cute selfie letting you know that he had finally reached home. His hair was still wet from the shower and his white t shirt hugged his lean body sinfully. You quickly snapped a picture of yourself and sent it to him. You noticed Jungkook curiously looking towards your phone and you turned the screen off and placed it on the table.

"That's it for today, Jungkook. I'll see you on Saturday!" You said. Jungkook wasn't happy about the fact that his time with you was over but he still picked up his stuff and got up. Throwing on his shoes he got ready to leave and opened the door. "That dress looks really nice on you" He said softly, making you blush at the unexpected compliment.

"Thank you, Jungkook" You mumbled before ushering him out of your apartment. Picking up your phone, you saw a text from Yoongi. "I'm under your building, can I come up?" The text said and was accompanied by a selfie of him pouting. "The door is open" You replied and ran to fix your hair. Quickly changing into some comfortable clothes, you opened the door when the bell rang.

Walking back towards his frat house, he heard someone call his name. "Hey hyung" Jungkook said to Yoongi. He asked his hyung where he was headed. "I'm going to y/n's place. Thank you for bringing her to the party. She's a really nice person and I hope things work out between us" He said, smiling. Jungkook bid his friend adieu and waited for a few minutes before walking back to your apartment building. There was a small park in the complex where he found a place to sit and pulled out his laptop. He opened the camera feed of your house.

"Come in" Yoongi stepped inside and took off his shoes and sat down on the couch. You grabbed two bottles of beer and handed him one before settling down on the couch next to him. Leaning back against the soft cushions, you let Yoongi pick a movie for the both of you to watch.

Jungkook sat back on the bench, making himself as comfortable as he could because he knew it was going to be a while before he could get up. He kept an eye on the fees as you cuddled into Yoongi's side, his arm around you. Jungkook really wished he could saw off the elder's hand as he watched it tighten.

You were only half paying attention to the movie as the other half of you was hyperaware of the gorgeous man sitting next to you. He smelled of citrus and lavender, two of your most favourite scents. Your heart did little summersaults as he tightened his arm around you. Yoongi turned to look as you and before you knew it, he was inching closer and closer to you.

Jungkook watched the scene unfold as Yoongi pressed his lips against your and pulled out his phone quickly to call Namjoon. He knew that his friend was the only person who could help him right now. "Hyung, can you do me a favour? Call Yoongi hyung and tell him to go to your studio quickly. I'll explain everything soon. Just tell him your composition submission got preponed or something"

Yoongi was pushing your shoulder down onto the couch to straddle you when his phone rang. He ignored it at first but later have you an apologetic look and picked up the phone. "What is it? Wait really? Okay I'll be there in two hours. The submission is in an hour and a half? I'll come now, wait up for me"

"Got cockblocked by Namjoon and the professor. I have an urgent submission in an hour and Namjoon needs my help. I promise we'll continue this later, okay?" Jungkook smiled as he saw Yoongi hurry out of your house, overlooking the peck he gave you on your lips as he left. Jungkook pulled his hood up and hid behind the bench as he saw Yoongi hurry by.

You touched yourself to the thought of Yoongi touching you for the second time that night. The way his rough hands layed gently across your skin, as if you were made of glass and the lust filled look in his eyes had you coming in no time.

Jungkook for the second time jerked off to you touching yourself and moaning Yoongi's name. He was angry and jealous and it just made him want you more. He wanted to break you till you knew nothing but his name. He wanted to see you mutter his name like a prayer as you came over and over again.

A few weeks later you finally were able to have sex with Yoongi without getting interrupted. It started with Yoongi sneaking into your English class and placing his hand on your thigh as you tried to pay attention to your professor and ended up with you pressed against the door of the washroom, Yoongi balls deep inside you. His lips captured yours to keep you from moaning too loudly.

While all of this was going down, Jungkook was hanging out with Seokjin and Hoseok, waiting around before he could leave to go to your place. He tapped his feet nervously, a weird feeling creeping up his spine, as if something bad was about to happen.

Yoongi was absolutely mind blowing even in the cramped space of the washroom. He fucked you to oblivion as you fell apart in his arms. When you told him that you were a virgin, he made sure you were okay with your first time being in such a setting and took extra care to be gentle with you. You fell for him more and more with every second you spent with him. You whispered 'God, I like you so much' as you came and Yoongi whispered 'I like you a lot too' back.

Jungkook as usual arrived in time to your apartment. The door opened and there you were, dressed in a turtle neck and sweatpants. Jungkook noticed your outfit change but put it off as you changing to get comfortable.

You were really hot in your turtleneck but you didn't want to take it off because Yoongi had decided to cover your entire neck with hickeys. You didn't have enough time to cover it with concealer so you had the wonderful idea of wearing a thick woollen sweater in moderate weather. You kept fiddling with the neck of the sweater as you taught Jungkook.

Jungkook noticed that you were uncomfortable and when he glanced at your hand playing with the neck of the sweater, he noticed a small purple mark on your skin. He was taken aback for a moment. It couldn't be a hickey, could it? His eyes must have been playing tricks on him, he thought.

You were fed up of the heat and decided to roll your collar down. It was just you and Jungkook in the room. It was a little scandalous but you were willing to endure the judging but not the heat. As expected, Jungkook's neck immediately were glued to your neck as soon as you moved the fabric away.

Jungkook struggled to hold in a gasp as he saw you roll down the fabric of your sweater to see your neck decorated with countless blue and purple hickeys. He tried his best to ignore it but he could feel his blood boiling. He knew that it was most probably Yoongi who marked you but he hoped it was someone else because he knew he wouldn't be able to control himself in front of his hyung if it was indeed he who was responsible for the marks on your neck.

You were a little uncomfortable because of the blatant staring but you ignored it. Soon you were done with what you had planned on teaching for the day and Jungkook left. You changed out of the sweater and took a shower, changing into a tank top and shorts. Your shoulders were also covered in marks and you groaned thinking about how much concealer you'd have to waste to cover them up. You couldn't help smile though as you thought about how amazing Yoongi made you feel.

Jungkook reached his frat house to see Yoongi grabbing his keys to leave. He was dressed smarter than usual. Yoongi was a man who walked around in track pants and t shirts all day so seeing him in jeans and a leather jacket was new. He smiled at Jungkook before rushing out of the house.

You called Yoongi home not long after Jungkook left. You hadn't planned on doing much, maybe watching a movie or something but Yoongi seemed to have other plans. He insisted he wanted to show you what true pleasure was you just couldn't refuse him. What started with just kissing on the couch soon led to both of you undressing in your bedroom.

"Wanna go out for a drink?" Seokjin asked and Jungkook agreed. He didn't like going out often but he really needed a drink. Hoseok accompanied them and they went to a local club that they often visited. Jungkook wasn't in the mood to get wasted but he did drink more than usual. His friends on the other hand got really drunk and Jungkook had to calm them both down and call a taxi to get them back home.

While the sex in the morning was rushed, Yoongi took his sweet time with you at home. He ate you out properly, his tounge playing with your clit as he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of your body. By the time he actually started fucking you, your body had gone boneless. It was slow and sweet, as Yoongi focused on your pleasure instead of his own. He made you feel things you didn't know could be felt.

Jungkook finally got both of his friends to sleep and headed to his bedroom. He opened his laptop and heard moaning noises coming from it. Thinking it was some porn website he forgot to close, he realised his browser wasn't open. What was open though, was the camera feed from your house. Panic rising in Jungkook's system, he opened the application to see Yoongi over you, making love to you and he saw red.

You both cuddled in bed afterwards with Yoongi's body pressed against yours, his hand playing with your hair. He had helped you clean up which ended up with you two showering together. Though you didn't have sex in there, it felt oddly intimate and you really enjoyed it He hummed a random song, lulling you to sleep.

Papers flew around and things were thrown here and there as Jungkook tried to control his anger. He had to get rid of Yoongi. That was the only way this was going to work. That was the only way Jungkook was going to have you to himself, just like he wanted. Putting in his shoes, he rushed out of the house to buy a couple of things. Yoongi needed to go, as soon as possible.

The next few days went well especially between you and Yoongi. He would crash often at your place and finally asked you out properly. You both went on a few dates and did silly things together. You could feel yourself falling for him, fast. You had a class with Jungkook about a week after Yoongi first slept with you. It went normally, though Jungkook was a bit more quite than usual.

During the class at your place, Jungkook looked for a single opportunity to grab your phone and that came when you went to grab a snack from the kitchen. He quickly sent a text to Yoongi from it, asking him to come over to your place at three the next day. He replied with a simple 'okay' and Jungkook quickly deleted both the original text and Yoongi's reply just before you walked back into the room.

The next day, you were busy with classes and decided to call Yoongi over in the evening to relieve some stress. You were just about to text him when Jungkook approached you, asking you for some help with his philosophy work. By the time you both were done, it was 2:45 and you apologised to Jungkook and left because you had a class at three.

Yoongi got to your place at three to see the door locked and something at the doorstep. He kneeled down to see a small boquet of flowers and a note. The note read 'I'm sorry. I love you. Don't look for me'. Yoongi was about to pull his phone out to call you when he felt someone place a cloth against his mouth. He struggled to get out of the person's grip but before he could do anything, everything went black.

When you got back home, you saw a boquet of your favourite flowers and a note waiting at your doorstep. You read through the note as a tear slipped down your cheek. You realised which flowers they were. 'Forget-me-nots' they were called. You had told Yoongi once that you loved those flowers. You tried to call him but his phone was switched off. You were disturbed by the note and ran to Yoongi's frat house to find out what was going on.

When Yoongi regained consciousness, he realised he was tied to a chair. Looking at his surroundings he saw the walls of the room he was in, covered with photos. There were hundreds of them. They all looked to be photos of the same person. His eyes were a little unfocused from whatever knocked him out but when he looked at the pictures more carefully, he realised who they were of and his eyes widened.

"We haven't seen Yoongi since the morning. He left for classes as usual. I'll try calling him" Hoseok told you as you arrived at Yoongi's frat house. Everyone except for Jungkook and Yoongi were there and they all tried to contact Yoongi but to no avail. Namjoon decided to contact Jungkook if he had heard anything about the whereabouts of their friend.

"I saw Yoongi hyung last this morning before I left the house. Is he okay?" Jungkook enquired. Namjoon told the boy about the note that Yoongi had left. If only Namjoon could see the smirk on Jungkook's face as he spoke to him over the phone. The younger male promised to let everyone know if he met Yoongi and cut the call.

"This is really unlike Yoongi hyung. He wouldn't do something like this. Something's wrong" Jimin commented and you nodded. Something about the note that Yoongi left you out you off. You stared at it for what felt like an eternity before Taehyung said that they all should look around town for Yoongi. Stuffing the note into your pocket, you joined the rest of the boys and left the house.

"Y/n" Yoongi whispered as is hit him that the photos were of you. There were so many of them. Ones with you at the local café, at the park, in class, in your house. There were even photos of you changing. Yoongi noticed a pattern spray painted on with red paint over some of the photos. He leaned back a little in his chair to get a better view of the pattern. His jaw dropped as he realised that it wasn't a pattern. It was instead the words "you're mine".

The worry really set in when you guys looked all around the town and found not a single trace of Yoongi. Some of his classmates told you that he had headed off campus after class. Namjoon advised you to go back home and get some sleep because it was getting late. Reluctantly you agreed and went back to your apartment. You asked the guard under your building if he had seen Yoongi and he said that he had seen him come in at about three but he had left for break after that and didn't see him leave.

"She's pretty, isn't she" Yoongi turns his head around to see a man walking into the room. He stands behind Yoongi and places hand on his shoulder. Due to how close the man was standing, Yoongi couldn't identify him but the voice sounded familiar. Yoongi muttered "Fuck you" and the man chuckled. The day was full of surprises for Yoongi as he realised why the voice sounded familiar.

You paced up and down your bedroom trying to figure out where Yoongi could be. You had contacted his parents and they told you that he hadn't mentioned that he would be coming home and promised to let you know if he did come to Daegu. You sat down on your table and pulled the note out of your pocket. Something about the note was wrong but you just couldn't tell what it was. You were about to give up when you noticed the open notebook on your desk.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi said, his voice full of shock. "Took you long enough to figure out" Jungkook stepped in front of the man and smirked at Yoongi's dumbfounded expression. "What is all of this?" Yoongi asked and Jungkook dipped his hand inside his pocket, pulling out a small hunting knife. It had a serrated edge meant for tearing through things instead of slicing. Jungkook leaned forward and traced the knife along Yoongi's forehead.

The notebook in front of you was your philosophy book that you used to explain Jungkook concepts. You also wrote test questions in the book for him to answer. As you read one of the answers Jungkook had written, it clicked. You immediately called up Namjoon and told him that you had figured out who took Yoongi and quickly sprinted to the frat house.

"You see, the y/n that you've been 'dating' I'd actually my little babygirl. I've been waiting for months to get to her and when I just about did, you had to get in the middle and make her fall in love with you. You even fucked her, didn't you? She was meant to be mine. Mine to take and mine to have. I was supposed to be the one to deflower her and worship her body but you got to her first. It doesn't matter though. I'll make sure she doesn't remember your touch on her skin. She'll only know my name and nothing else. I should just take her away to a place with no one else but the two of us. I could treat her like the queen she is" Jungkook said, putting more pressure on the knife.

"The handwriting, it's not Yoongi's, it's Jungkook's" Seokjin gasped as the rest of them looked at you in disbelief. You showed them the picture you had clicked. It had the note next to the answer he had written in your book and the handwriting was exactly the same. "But why would Kookie do anything to Yoongi? When we called him he told us he hasn't met Yoongi" Hoseok said and you nodded. Something was missing and you ran to Jungkook's room to investigate.

"You're a sick bastard" Yoongi gritted, making Jungkook chuckle. "Well I would have just straight up killed you but looking at your attitude, it seems like it'd be more fun to torture you for touching what's mine" Yoongi looked confused. "But why her? You hadn't even met her before the tutoring started" Jungkook's eyes went blank for a moment. He stepped back from Yoongi and turned towards the wall covered in your photos before leaning his head against it.

Jungkook's bedroom looked like an average college student's room. You saw his laptop lying on his table and picked it up. The boys entered the room as you tried to unlock the pc. "Do anyone know what the password could be?" You asked them. You had tried all different combinations and had only one try left. Either the computer would unlock or it would lock permanently till it was professionally unlocked. "I know this may sound weird, but try your name" You looked at him with a confused expression but still followed what he said, typing your name into the password bar and held your breath as you hit enter.

"You remember Jisoo?" Yoongi nodded. The Seven of Beta Theta Sigma had gone to high school together. Kim Jisoo was a girl in Yoongi's grade. She was also Yoongi's exgirlfriend. She had disappeared out of nowhere one day and the whole acity searched for her but she was never found. That was until one day her body was mysteriously found at the banks of the local river. She was brutally murdered with knife marks all over her face. The word "MINE" was carved into her forehead. "Well you see.." Jungkook paused.

You didn't know whether to be happy or worried about the fact that the laptop unlocked. You saw an app open and checked it. It took like a camera feed of some sort. The place that the cameras were recording looked familiar. "Is that your house?" Jimin asked. You knew that a lot of people from the college lived in your building and it was very much possible that the boys knew what the apartments looked like. You nodded as you looked through the rest of his computer to find a folder full of photos. "Guys, you should take a look at this" Namjoon's voice sounded slightly scared as he looked you in the eyes.

"Jisoo had been my first crush. I thought he was the most beautiful human to ever exist. I wanted her to be my girlfriend. But unfortunately, she fell for you. I tried everything I could to get her to like me but she was madly in love with you. I did the only thing I thought was a viable option and kidnapped her. I held her here, in this very room for months. She was mine and only mine. That all changed the day she tried to escape. I just couldn't imagine her running back to you, away from me and so I held he down and carved the word "MINE" into her forehead so that she wouldn't leave me. But she still tried to run so I stabbed her. I tried to keep her from going and ended up killing her. I disposed her body off carefully so that no one would know I did it" Yoongi couldn't believe the words he was hearing.

You put the laptop down and grabbed the camera that Namjoon was holding. It was full of photos of you. Some of them were taken even before you had met him. Hoseok called your name and you turned back to the laptop to see the photos in the folder. They were all of you, some of them even showed you to be half naked. You were scared both for yourself and Yoongi. You just couldn't process what was going on. "Guys I think I know where he is" Taehyung said out of nowhere.

"Once I killed Jisoo, I felt alone. That's when I first saw y/n. She was even more beautiful that Jisoo, something I never thought was possible. But just like last time, you got in the middle and made her fall in love with you. The best thing to do now is to get rid of and then take her. Keep her here, with me, forever. She'll be mine and only mine" Jungkook said. What the raven haired man hadn't noticed was that which Jungkook was busy talking about Jisoo and you, Yoongi had successfully untied his hands from behind the chair.

"Jungkook took me to his old house once. You can't call it a house, it's more like a dingy basement. It's where he had grown up. Being an orphan, he had found the basement to be his safe space which he called home. I found the place really creepy so I never went there again but I know where it is" Taehyung explained as he drove to this mysterious place. You were squashed in the back of the car between Hoseok, Seokjin and Jimin. Namjoon sat in the front while Taehyung drove. You could feel your heart racing. Even though you'd only know Yoongi for a short period of time you realised you had actually fallen for him.

"You're not going to lay a finger on her" Yoongi gritted which made Jungkook turn around. Yoong kicked the younger man between his legs and successfully disarmed him, grabbing the knife for himself. Jungkook was fast though and he kicked Yoongi hard in the shin which made him fall and drop the knife. Jungkook was about to pick up the knife when Yoongi kicked it far away. "So you want to do this the hard way?" Jungkook hissed as he pulled a gun out of his pocket.

You were running towards the basement with the boys behind you when you saw Jungkook pointing his gun at Yoongi. "NO!" You screamed as Jungkook's attention shifted to you. Unfortunately had did too as he pulled the trigger. It was Yoongi who screamed this time. The boys tackled Jungkook as Yoongi held you in his arms. You were losing blood from the shot in your stomach. He rushed you to the car and sped to the hospital while Jimin called the police.

Jungkook was taken away by the cops shortly after. He was charged with kidnapping, attempted murder, voluntary manslaughter and stalking amongst other things. He was tried and found guilty, sentenced to 20 years in prison. The last thing he said before being taken away was "I'll be back for y/n".

You opened your eyes and saw only white. You wondered if you were in heaven but quickly came to your senses. Yoongi next to you noticed you stir and called the doctor. "The wound could have been fatal but you were lucky" He said before letting you know that you could leave in a few days. Yoongi spent those days with you by your side. He explained everything that happened. You struggled to believe everything he told you but the news coverage of it was enough to convince you.

Things were going alright till one day, a week after the incident with Jungkook when you and Yoongi were watching the news together. "Jeon Jungkook who was found guilty of kidnapping, voluntary manslaughter and stalking was found brutally murdered in his cell last night. This was apparently a result of a scuffle between him and Kin Donghyun, father of Kim Jisoo who had been falsely charge for the murder of his daughter. He was to be released since in a few days as the real culprit had been caught, that real culprit being Jeon Jungkook" The news anchor reported.

Yoongi tightened his grip on your arm as you dropped the boquet in your hand. You really wish you could rename the flower's name to 'forget-mes' instead of 'forget-me-nots' because you really didn't want to remember Jungkook. You stared at the grave for a few more minutes before you took a deep breath and walked away. Yoongi held the door open for you as you stepped in, taking one last look at the cemetery before Yoongi drove back home, moving on from it all, forever.

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the-velveteen-victorian · 4 years ago

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Elle can you explain what goth is? Google is really inconsistent and I’m having such a difficult time understanding it. When did you find out you were goth?

Definitely! This is a long response just so you are prepared. =) Goth is a music-based subculture. You are correct… Google is not a good resource for discovering what goth is. Unfortunately, a lot of “goth” guide books aren’t either (I know one of them features a lot of emo bands?). First off, let’s just get out of the way what goth is not. Goth is not emo or metal. Avenged Sevenfold, My Chemical Romance, and Pantera are not goth. Goth is not white supremacy. Yes, those of us with naturally pale skin sometimes strive to keep our skin tones light, but goth is a home to people of all skin/hair/eye colors. Anyone who says you can only be a pale, white person is disgusting. Goth is not associated with any religion, philosophy, political inclination, or specific belief system. There are Christian, Hindu, Atheist, New Age, Shinto, Muslim, Republican, Democrat, Green Party, pineapple on pizza, no pineapple on pizza goths. You get my point. =)

Wearing goth fashion does not make someone goth, no matter how great the outfit may be. I (and most goths, elder and younger) define goth as someone who has an intense interest and passion for goth music. That’s it. Sure, most of us will gravitate toward darker aesthetics and like to wear the fashion when we can, but it is absolutely NOT a requirement. That is what google gets so wrong. One of the goth ladies I know spends 80% of her time in scrubs. She loves her job as a nurse practitioner and she has to have a more conservative look while she is working. She can’t wear the fashion more often than a couple times a month. She listens to goth music every day and is super knowledgeable about it. Is she goth? Yes. Conversely, I know a lot of teenagers who are trying to figure out who they are (which is TOTALLY FINE). They actually do a really great job of diy-ing goth looks, but they do not listen to goth music at all. Most of them listen to metal, emo, or country music. Do I consider them goth? No. But I do not judge them for it. Music is about what speaks to you and goth is in no way superior to any other musical taste.

With the rise of “pastel goth” and fashion trends on tumblr/social media, I think a lot of people get misled. This is why it is so important to have some level of contact with the actual goth community. Covid showed us that it is possible to do this online! We can attend online goth nights, get the set lists and analyze goth club music trends from our homes, and have zoom dance sessions! I really love the flexibility and versatility that the pandemic revealed to the goth community… because a lot of goths don’t live in cities with a big goth scene.

How did I discover I was goth? By beautiful accident. =) I was 15, and I struggled to have any level of autonomy or self-expression at all. I grew up in a conservative family (Christian/religious) cult. That rabbit hole runs deep and is a separate story for another time. The point is that I had very limited contact with the outside world apart from my private school, church, and Christian-group violin lessons. However! I received a nano ipod from an extended family member for Christmas one year. I copied a bunch of CD’s from Christian acquaintances at my church and filled the ipod up with the generic contemporary Christian and overstimulating broadway musicals endemic to the culture around me… it was all I had. Then, one day I discovered a goth band. I had no idea they were a goth band. I was obsessed with their sound. I can’t remember which platform I found them on, but I remember I did not have a video with it… so I’m thinking I was on the itunes store. I had chills and for the first time every something felt “right” in the music world for me.

Goth music begets more goth music… Itunes recommended other bands like the one I had found. I only had the money to buy a few albums over the course of a year, but I would retitle the songs and albums as Christian or Disney compilations so that my parents would never suspect what I was listening to (they regularly went through my ipod to make sure I wasn’t listening to anything worldly). One day, I was listening to some of my goth music with another confirmed atheist at my private Christian school and he was like, “OMG I had no idea you were a goth!” I was super confused and was all like, “No, I’m not. I don’t even know what that is…” This guy was a metalhead, but he had a ton of goth friends and he gave me my first thorough education on everything goth. I was 15 at the time, and it was not until nearly 4 years later that I would escape my family and truly come to integrate in the goth community.

Long story short, I started out with the music with no clue about the fashion. I think I was very fortunate in that because it gave me time to develop my musical preferences and tastes without feeling pressured to fit into a tiny little box. Later, when I was free, I did develop a goth wardrobe and (of course) decorated my house in a dark romantic/Victorian style…. But I never felt like those things were vital to who I was as a goth. I’m really thankful for that.

Please understand, that I do not want to erase the incredible goth fashion magicians out there or diminish the hard work someone may put into their personal look or aesthetic. The goth aesthetic is the heartbeat behind the unparalleled, transcendent feeling I have in a goth club or just in my own bedroom. It definitely adds to the experience. All I am saying is that those things alone do not a goth make. I also grew up obsessed with (gothic) Victorian literature... it took me awhile to put 2 and 2 together for that one too lol.

My controversial opinion here is that I do believe that some level of gatekeeping is necessary to keeping goth alive today. Unfortunately, it is an endangered species as subcultures go… this is not because there are not any goths. It is because the mainstream has appropriated it and defined it as fashion ONLY, which then confuses people who go to the surface level of the internet to get answers… which then creates a whole following that erases what goth truly is.

However, I need to explain that when most people refer to gatekeeping, they are talking about bullying. I am defining gatekeeping as providing a definition for the heart of the goth movement and sticking to it. Bullying is never acceptable. Ever. The example I employ a lot utilizes musical genre as an example. Let’s say you put on a Carnifex t-shirt and wear it a lot. But…. You don’t listen to metal because it just is not your sound. You don’t talk to other people about metal music, seek out the aesthetic, have more than 2 songs on your phone with metal music, or (want) to attend metal events. Are you a metalhead? No, of course not. But are you inferior to metalheads because you choose to listen to classical and hip-hop music? No, of course not. Another example: Let’s say you don’t like coffee. You don’t regularly drink it, read about it, or have an interest in it. Are you a coffee enthusiast? No, of course not. Are you inferior to those who do drink coffee? No, of course not. But it would be ridiculous to feel pressured to fit the mold of a coffee enthusiast, right?

It is never wrong to define what something is and to stick to your guns on it as long as you do not cross over into elitist territory, thinking you are better than everyone else. That is the point I want to get across here. Goth fashion does own my heart, but I also sometimes dress in dark academia, cottagecore, dark mori, and even in 80’s retrofuturistic styles when the mood strikes me. It does not change my involvement in the goth community or erase my love for goth music.

Lastly, a question I get a lot (and I have addressed this in previous posts) is, “I am obsessed with goth music… I have a wide knowledge base that I have spent great amounts of time developing and it is my life… but I also like Lil Peep, Lady Gaga, ‘gothic’ metal, and Lana Del Rey. Am I still goth?” The answer is YES. Of course you are! Loving goth music and being obsessed doesn’t mean you can’t like other things. Anyone in the goth community who tells you have to ONLY listen to goth music is full of crap. Eighty percent of my ipod is goth music… I am lucky to have thousands of songs. (And by the way, if you cannot afford a lot of goth music, you are not less goth than the rest of us. Listening for free is just as valid.) The other twenty percent is classical and synthwave/cybersynth/retrowave/darkly inclined/spacewave/video game sountrack/cyberpunk-inspired stuff. Am I any less of a goth for also being obsessed with the retrowave community or for listening to bands that are darkly inclined but not quite goth? No, of course not. Also, you can be darkly inclined without being goth, and that is just as beautiful. =) My husband is darkly inclined and likes some goth music, but he is more involved in the horror community. He is no less valid and freaking awesome than I am.

I hope this makes sense! This is a subject I feel passionate about. Just to recap, the pillars of fashion, gothic literature, and general aesthetics are valid in the goth scene and contribute greatly to the structural integrity of the whole. However, the soul of goth is in the music. I have hearing loss myself and have a couple of friends who are completely deaf who also agree that the music is the soul of goth. The way they engage is by reading the lyrics and even going to goth clubs when they can to dance and feel the beat. =) I think that is beautiful and so amazing. Hearing disabilities do not disqualify you from the goth scene- anyone who says they do is garbage.

Here are a couple of videos explaining a bit about what goth music actually is. Let me know if you would like more resources! Angela Benedict did a video where she answered the question, “Can you be goth and not like the music?” Her answer is also no. She is a great youtuber to watch because she was there for the 90’s goth scene! It is so fun to hear her stories and learn about the elder goth generations. <3

Goth music is not just goth rock… there are SOOOOO many subgenres under the massive umbrella that is goth. It is a big universe to explore. =) If you would like a list of some of my favorite goth bands AND goth adjacent bands, then I can do a separate post for that- just ask! Thank you for tolerating my info-dumping. =) <3

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tKDo_j0O-hA&t=116s – Accumortis on goth music

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BGj3CuAeW1w – Angela Benedict on goth music

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zg3HwuFlGeU&t=587s – Angela Benedict on defining goth

#whatisgoth #gothmusic #angelabenedict #accumortis #gothfashion

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xbaepsae · 5 years ago

Text

private tutor | part three (m)

“’We can take a break, if you want.’ ‘Are you sure?’ he asks, double meaning in his words and heat begins to pool in your body. ‘Yeah, I think I need time to process the information, you know?’ you say. ‘Besides, I think I’ll learn better with more of a…hands on kind of approach.’”

[tutor!namjoon x reader]

genre: college!au, smut, humor, fluff-ish

word count: 5.1k

a/n: and here it is! the final, thrilling part to this series. thank you to everyone who has been super patient with me. i love and appreciate all of you <3 xoxo

part one / part two / part three

You don’t see Namjoon again for a few days.

It’s not that you’re avoiding the guy, he did give you one of the best orgasms of your life after all, but you just haven’t had the opportunity to meet with him again. After the last study session, both of your schedules haven’t matched up. When you’re in class, he’s free. When you’re free, he’s too busy reading those damn philosophy books.

The two of you exchanged phone numbers—or rather, you coerced Yoongi into giving you Namjoon’s phone number with the promise of free Starbucks for the rest of the semester because the poor boy was out of money in his school account—but every text about possible study sessions has been in vain.

So, the little pink bullet vibrator in your bedside table has been relieving much of your end-of-semester stress instead. It also doesn’t help that you can’t stop thinking about your tutor either. You can’t get the image of when he was staring at you while giving you head out of your mind, and it’s been driving you absolutely crazy.

You told Ara about what happened in his bedroom after the game, and your roommate was shocked at how fast it all happened. “So, it’s that kind of payment.”

Were you some kind of prostitute now? You voiced this mild concern to Ara before she assured you that you weren’t a hoe now just because your tutor gave you oral in return for a study session. If anything, you should’ve given him head as payment. “I know—and I would have if not for your interfering phone call.”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t show up on time,” Ara said. “But on the real, is he really hot?”

Hot doesn’t do Kim Namjoon justice. There are no right or perfect words to describe him. You don’t know what it is about him, but everything concerning him just oozes sexuality. He knows all of the right words to make you bend to his will, as well as fiery looks that make you melt underneath his ministrations. And his mouth—that amazing, fantastic mouth—is magical. Your body becomes excited at just the thought of it.

It’s about a few days later when you get a text from him asking if you'll be free Friday afternoon. Lucky for him, the only class you have that day is chemistry, ironically enough, and you let him know this fact. Namjoon replies instantly, telling you that he’ll see you after that class.

Since meeting with Namjoon, you’ve been paying more attention in chemistry class. Things were starting to make sense—kind of, sort of—and you have an inkling feeling that you might pass. Also, in all honesty, you just really want to impress him with the new concepts you're learning. But trying to impress someone like him seems impossible.

When Friday rolls around, you cannot contain the excitement you feel. You sit in chemistry and take the most detailed notes you’ve ever taken, feeling determined to show how much you’ve improved since the first study session. Once your professor finishes her lecture, you leave class with a skip in your step and pull out your phone to send a quick text asking what time you should meet. As your typing away on your phone, not really paying attention to where you’re walking, you end up running into someone.

“Oops—I’m—” you look up, only to be met with the amused expression of your tutor. “Oh my god, Namjoon—I’m so sorry—”

Goodness, you are such a klutz. You were so focused on sending him a text, so excited to see him again, that you completely disregarded everything else. You realize that he has his arms on your shoulders, steadying you. Suddenly, embarrassment floods your body at the fact that you literally ran into him.

Shaking your head to collect yourself, you can’t help but notice that once again, Namjoon is dressed like he is some runway model—not a college student. Today, he’s wearing a plain black dress shirt tucked into lighter wash jeans. You don’t know how long you stare at him, but he coughs once, and you meet his eyes. That’s when you realize that he decided to forgo the glasses today. “You should watch where you’re going.”

“I was just about to send you a text,” you point to your phone. “I didn’t expect to run into you.”

“I actually sent you one too.”

Looking back at your phone, your message still in the text box, you scroll down and realize that Namjoon did send you a text just seconds ago.

12:49 PM | Namjoon: Hey. I’ll meet you outside your class today.

You look back at him, “Well, why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“My one o’clock got canceled, and I got out of my noon class a little early,” he says with a shrug. “Besides, I haven’t been in the science building since freshman year.”

“Okay, mister philosophy major.”

“Are you free to study?”

Nodding, you swallow the lump in your throat as you remember what happened during the last study session. “Definitely. I even took good notes today in class.”

He smirks. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Give me credit for trying,” you pout, walking away from him. Namjoon catches up to you in no time, arms slightly brushing against yours as he walks beside you down the hall. You become overly aware of how fast your heart starts beating and mentally curse yourself for reacting like a total noob.

“Isn’t that something you should’ve been doing all semester?”

You give him a look, but he merely laughs as you both walk out into the sun. You lead Namjoon to your dorm, walking past stares from the student body. As the two of you walk, you make small talk with him—clearly more interaction than what you guys did last time. He talks to you about his philosophy classes, which you don’t really get, but you appreciate his passion for it. “Honestly, I don’t really like philosophy.”

“Not many people do,” he says. “But I think people like Plato and Socrates were fascinating.”

“Is philosophy on the list of graduation requirements?”

Namjoon looks down at you. “I believe at least one class is.”

You groan at the thought of sitting through an entire semester of lectures about the mind and theories. “Great.”

“I could always tutor you, again,” he says, eyes still on you.

Your body hums at the thought of spending more time with Namjoon. Immediately, you want to jump and say that you want nothing more than to continue future tutoring sessions; but you decide to tease him a little. “Hmm…we’ll see. If I pass chemistry, then maybe. Like, I don’t want to waste my time if my grade doesn’t change you know?”

“Is this a challenge?” he asks with a smirk. “I already told you that I’m confident you’ll get at least a C. Why? Doubting my skills? Did I not make you cum hard enough last time?”

He says the last bit so quietly you almost don’t catch it. The two of you are still in public, which means anyone can hear the conversation you both are having, so you’re shocked that he’s being quite bold right now. Even though you don’t want to, you redden at the mention of last time because he’s right—he did make you cum really hard—so you definitely are not doubting the sexual prowess that is Kim Namjoon.

Before you can answer him, you’ve already reached your building. Rummaging through your backpack for your ID card, you swipe the metal lock on the door and open it up. You walk inside first and tell Namjoon that your room is on the second floor.

“Also, there’s no elevator in this building,” you sigh. “At least, no working elevator—the one we did have has been broken since labor day weekend.”

“Oh?” he laughs a little, following you up the stairs.

“Yeah, I think there were too many people on the elevator at one time, so it got stuck and maintenance hasn’t bothered to fix it. But at least I only have to climb one flight of stairs—I feel bad for the people on the floors above me. I don’t even want to think about the chaos that will be having to pack for winter break.”

Making it to your room, the first door on the left, you notice that Namjoon is awfully close to you and it sends little jolts of electricity up your spine.

“Cute,” he suddenly says, and you turn to ask him what. “The decorative names are a nice touch.”

You smile, looking at yours and Ara’s name that are creatively pieced on the door of the room. “Thanks—it was actually Ara’s idea though. She’s very into this kind of stuff. You know, doing the whole college experience.”

Slipping your key into the lock, you open the room and sigh in relief when you remember that you cleaned the night before. Ara was shocked that you were cleaning, not that you’re extremely messy or anything but you do have a tendency to leave empty water bottles around the room. However, when you mentioned that Namjoon was coming over to help you study, Ara would not stop shut up about it.

“Make sure to use protection, okay?” she said to you and you almost tackled her on the spot. “Also, make sure he discards the condom—I don’t want that shit to get on the carpet. I’ve heard that it’s hard to take cum off the carpet.”

Thankfully, Ara has a packed schedule on Friday afternoons, so she will not be here to disturb your study session. You invite Namjoon to walk inside first as you lock the door.

“Well,” you start, “welcome to my humble abode.”

“Your room is bigger than I thought it would be,” he comments.

“Why? Did you think it was going to be the size of a closet?” you snort. “This room accommodates two people, so it has to be decently sized.”

When you and Ara first moved in, you two tried to set up the room as practical as possible. You both decided to forgo the whole bunk bed situation because neither of you wanted to fight for the bottom bunk, so your beds sit parallel to each other with both bedside tables in-between. At the foot of your beds are desks, and by the door stands a sink and your closets.

You put your bag down on your bed and pull Ara’s desk chair from her side of the room. Setting it next to your chair, you sit down and beckon Namjoon to follow. You pull out your notes and textbook, handing them over to your tutor to look over.

“Are those the notes you took earlier?”

You nod once. “Yeah.”

Namjoon examines your notes, flipping back and forth over the pages you wrote today. “Did you understand everything the professor said?”

“Surprisingly, I did,” you say. “I’ve been able to soak up more information this past week than I have almost all semester.”

“That’s good,” he says with a nod and opens your textbook up. “Did you want to start from what you learned today, or where we left off last time?”

You tell him that you want the latter and Namjoon picks up seamlessly. With pen and paper in hand, you jot down everything that he says and ask questions when you don’t understand what he’s explaining. When he gets to the chapter about stoichiometry, you admit that you never understood what the heck this was. You even make Namjoon balance a simple hydrogen and oxygen equation five times because you really don’t get it. But, to your relief, you learn that Namjoon is surprisingly patient with you.

“Can you explain that again?” you ask with a sheepish smile, watching Namjoon write the current example you two are working on again.

“Okay, so the problem asks how many grams of nitrogen are needed to produce the 38.5 g of NH2 produced in the equation: 1 N2(g) + 3 H2(g) = 2 NH2(g)?”

You watch as he writes down the goal mass and then solves the problem using mass-mass stoichiometry. Through each step, he explains slowly what he is doing and why he is doing what he is doing. By the time he comes out with the answer, you feel a little lightbulb flicker in your head. He then asks if you feel comfortable solving the problem yourself, which you honestly don’t but what’s new, and you reply with an I guess so.

Without letting you see his work, Namjoon helps you start solving the problem before forcing you to do it all by yourself. After a few painstaking minutes, you show your answer and the smile he has lets you know that you’re not a complete failure. “So, I got it correct?”

“Yeah—just make sure you put the unit of measurement in your answer, as well as the atomic letters of the chemical,” he says, and you immediately add them to your answer.

“Thank you for being so patient,” you tell him. “I’m sorry that I’m so fucking slow.”

He only shakes his head, “I’ve tutored worse—trust me.”

Namjoon continues through different lessons and before you both realize it, nearly all of the afternoon has passed by and you’re starting to get hungry. Not hungry-hungry, but hungry enough that you know your stomach will probably start making noise. You will your stomach to not growl, but your body betrays you and the sounds coming from your stomach fill the room. Almost instantly, you wrap your arms around your abdomen and you feel your face flush. “Sorry.”

Glancing down at the watch on his wrist, Namjoon checks the time. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how long we’ve been studying. I also didn’t even think about whether or not you’ve even had lunch.”

“I’m okay,” you brush him away, knowing you can hold out until dinner. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, but not for food.”

Your lips part in silent surprise. Oh. Slowly, your eyes meet his and you see that same dark look; this sends your body into a frenzy. Without even touching you, Namjoon has you under his spell and you honestly never want to be released from it. “We can take a break, if you want.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, double meaning in his words and heat begins to pool in your body.

“Yeah, I think I need time to process the information, you know?” you say. “Besides, I think I’ll learn better with more of a…hands on kind of approach.”

Humor laces Namjoon’s dark eyes and you swear that you’ve never seen anything sexier. “The next part of your payment?”

You’re so ready for this—anything and everything. You’ve been ready for a while now. “Of course.”

“Okay,” his voice is gentle. Namjoon brings a hand to cup your face, thumb running over your jawline before settling on your lips. He parts your mouth and you begin to suck on his finger. “Get down on your knees for me, baby girl.”

Your arousal skyrockets as you stand up and push your chair back. Falling to your knees, Namjoon’s hand never leaves your face. Looking up at him, you feel his hand moving to tangle in your hair. Suddenly, he pulls you in for a kiss, his tongue dancing with your own. You’re already getting drunk of a kiss, so imagining what's to come has your core aching.

As his lips move against your own, your fingers slide up his thighs and you can feel his muscle flexing underneath. He feels so strong underneath your hands and you can’t wait to see if he crumbles beneath you. Fingers find the belt holding his jeans together, and you begin to loosen the buckle. After, you begin to unbutton his jeans. Namjoon’s lips release yours when you lower his zipper. Shoving his jeans and boxers down in one smooth motion, your eyes take in his already half-hard member.

Namjoon surprises you when he brings a hand to his cock, holding it erect. “Suck my cock, baby girl.”

Your hand goes to replace his when he stops you. “What?”

“No hands,” he says, voice deep with lust, “put them behind you.”

A jolt of electricity goes up your spine and you almost let out a moan. Oh my god. You do as he says, fingers lacing together behind your back, and lower your head towards his groin. The first thing you do is extend your tongue out to lick the tip. A small smile stretches across your lips when Namjoon visibly shudders.

Then, your mouth envelops the entire head—sucking gently and tongue swirling around it. As you suck, you take more of him into your mouth. You have never been one to particularly enjoy giving head; you’ll do it without question, but it usually doesn’t do anything for you. However, you’re enjoying yourself; you want to please Namjoon and make him feel good.

Through your focused attention to his member, you can make out the few choked praises and curses that leave Namjoon’s lips. You moan appreciatively as you take him deeper into your throat. You release him for a moment to catch your breath before giving some attention to his shaft and balls. By this point, his cock as grown increasingly hard and you wonder for a brief moment if he’s going to fit inside of you.

Size has never been an issue for you; then again, you’re pretty sure he’s got the biggest package you’ve seen in real life.

“Fuck, y/n,” Namjoon moans, beginning to thrust his hips once you’ve taken all of him back into your mouth. You can feel your eyes begin to sting from the force of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and your gag reflex kicks in.

Even though you’re beginning to choke, he doesn’t stop slamming his cock down your throat. In fact, he tightens the grip on your hair and speeds up his thrusting. After a few hard thrusts, he releases you. Gasping for air, you can feel saliva dribble down your chin.

Wiping your face, you glance up at Namjoon. “Was that…?”

“Wow,” he breathes, “your mouth is fucking amazing.”

Pride beams inside of you and Namjoon takes this opportunity to crash his lips onto yours. He lifts you off the floor and helps you take your clothes off. As you strip, you also help him shed whatever clothes he is wearing as well. After the two of you are completely naked, you take in Namjoon’s bare body and just groan. How could one man be so damn perfect?

“Like what you see?”

You roll your eyes playfully, “No.”

He kisses you again and you become putty in his hands. Namjoon’s lips leave yours for a moment before reaching back down towards his jeans. Pulling out his wallet, you watch as he takes out a little foil packet. He tears the edge and rolls the condom onto his cock before sitting back down. “Sit on my cock.”

Usually, you’d bite back if someone ordered you around; but with Namjoon, you’ll do anything he says. But before you can straddle his lap, he brings his hand up to cup your mound. “Namjoon—”

He begins to rub your clit and you fall over, bracing yourself onto his shoulders. You moan into his neck as he slips a finger inside of you. And then another. With nails digging into his back, you grind your hips into his thrusting. Just as you’ve started building up momentum, he pulls his fingers out.

You curse, which only causes him to laugh. Unable to help yourself, you kiss him again—you really like kissing him, you realize. Wasting no more time, you hover over his lap and position yourself over him. Slowly, you sink lower. Just as your about to slip him inside of you, Namjoon stops you for a minute. Looking into his eyes, you find yourself getting lost in them. He kisses you again and begins to rub his head along your clit and down toward your slit.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your jaw.

“Namjoon,” you choke on a cry. “I—”

“Do you want my cock inside of you?” he asks, continuing to tease you.

Your hands tighten around his neck, “Yes.”

“What was that?”

“Yes,” you repeat, another moan releasing from your lips.

His tip swirls around your clit again. “What?”

“Oh my god, Namjoon. Yes! Put your cock inside of me—oh.”

Your head tilts back and eyes roll as you feel him push inside of you. Unadulterated moans leave your lips as he slowly stretches you. Quickly, you realize that you were right—he is big, and you feel so full you can hardly handle it. You sink lower until you’re buried to the hilt, and it feels so good you might just explode. “I just…I just need a minute.”

Breathing into the crook of Namjoon’s neck, you allow your body to get adjusted before you begin to move your hips. As you ride him, you can feel your high approaching quickly and it doesn’t help that Namjoon has decided to tease you by pinching your nipples and sucking the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You feel so good on my cock, baby girl,” he practically coos into your ears and your hips slam faster; harder. “Fuck yourself onto me—just like that.”

Who knew you’d be such a praise kink hoe? You’re living for the sweet nothings coming from his lips.

He continues to pinch and pull at your nipples and just when you think you can’t take anymore, you feel his fingers right at your clit and that’s all it takes to push you over the edge. You scream his name, entire body convulsing in orgasm. Throughout this, Namjoon fucks himself into you still—helping you ride the high out.

“Oh my god,” you say once you catch your breath. “That was—”

“Who said we were done?” His voice causes you to raise your eyes towards him. “We’ve only just begun.”

Your mouth parts, core tightening with desire as he lifts you up and over to your bed. Still inside you, he lays your body down and begins peppering kisses all over your skin. Suddenly, you feel him pull out; you’re about to protest until you feel his hot breath caressing your thighs. Pushing your legs apart, he presses more kisses along the inside before his mouth begins to suck on your lips.

“Namjoon,” you moan his name, legs shaking at his ministrations.

There’s just something so erotic about him eating you out post-penetration—the thought sends your head spinning. Without much, you feel your insides tightening again; you’re going to cum again and your body is so ready for the toe-curling sensation. But it stops when Namjoon releases his hold on you. “You think you deserve to cum again?”

You lift yourself up on your forearms, breathing heavily as you stare at the man before you. Is he being serious right now? “What?”

“I don’t know if you’ve earned another orgasm yet,” he says, a smirk growing along his lips. “I mean, I haven’t cum yet…so why do you deserve more than one?”

“I…I…” you struggle to speak. Hell, you can’t even think right now.

But Namjoon doesn’t stop tormenting you. You watch as his hand returns to your cunt, fingers moving slowly along your wetness. A moan leaves your lips, and it only seems to make his smirk wider. “Tell me why, y/n?”

Your head falls back a bit when you feel that tightness building again. As his fingers continue to move, your hips match their rhythm. “I’m so…close.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod feverishly. “Oh god…yeah.”

“You want to cum again?” he asks.

As Namjoon’s fingers move along your slit, rubbing delicious circles around your swollen clit, your hips move feverishly to match his pace. Clutching the bedsheets in-between your hands, you cry as your high comes. But as your body shakes, you feel him enter you again.

He fucks you hard—cock buried deep inside of you—and it feels so fucking good you swear you might actually pass out. Namjoon thrusts relentlessly, and another wave of pleasure crash over you as he hits your g-spot repeatedly. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you feel completely spent. How many times have you come undone today?

You’re pretty sure that you can’t manage another orgasm, you’re already feeling sensitivity-overload; so instead, you wrap your legs around his waist and dig your heels into his back. “I want you to cum.”

“Yeah?” he asks, hair in a sweaty mess on top of you. God, he looks so good.

You nod. “Yeah…where do you want to cum? I’ll let you choose.”

Namjoon grunts at your words, hips picking up their pace. “Can I cum on your tits?”

Your body shakes at his request, and all you can do is nod. He continues to thrust a few more times, hips moving a little sloppier each with each thrust, before he pulls out and removes his condom. Strings of milky white hit your chest as he mutters fuck over and over again, painting your breast; however, the real sight to behold is Namjoon and the way his eyes are shut in pure ecstasy.

Sitting up, you pull him closer and mold your lips against his. As you both kiss in post-coital bliss, you realize that you can get used to this.

***

a few weeks later...

Namjoon paces up and down the empty hallway.

His loafers echo in the closed space, while outside there is a totally different picture. Mother nature has decided to be lovely as usual and snow—the first of the season. Although the snow is nice and all, he can’t but feel nervous as his eyes continuously return to the same wooden door; the door that leads to you. Well, to your chemistry class specifically. You’re in there taking your chemistry final right now, and it’s nearing the end of the three-hour exam session.

Shouldn’t you be done already? For the last hour, Namjoon has watched as other students have filed out of the room with their exams in hand. As each individual walked out, he searched for your face in vain. And as the minutes continue to tick by, Namjoon grows more worried.

He doesn’t doubt your preparedness—you two have done more than enough studying. Namjoon licks his lower lip at the memory of every study session you’ve both had, since they’ve all ended with the both of you in each other’s beds. Although the sex has gotten better and better every time, that isn't the only good thing that's happened. In the last few weeks, he has actually taught you a lot about chemistry too.

“What if I forget everything?” you asked yesterday, the both of you tucked in his bed.

Namjoon laughed, “You won’t forget.”

“I can’t even remember what mass is, and that is supposed to be the basic of all basic information.”

“It’s property of a physical body and a measure of its resistance to acceleration when a net force is applied, y/n.”

When he first met you, he said something about guaranteeing that you’d make a C on the final, but he was quite positive that you’d actually do better than that. You were able to soak up a semester’s worth of chemistry in a few weeks; if that isn’t impressive, Namjoon doesn’t know what is. And this is coming from someone who aces all of their finals.

From what he can remember about the chemistry final is that it’s about one hundred questions, and it's all multiple choice. There are different versions of the final, but all of the questions are the same—just in a different order to prevent cheating. And since the test is multiple choice, students get their scores immediately after. You both practiced more than enough old final questions, and you did well on all of them, so he was confident in your skills.

Now, he doesn't know what to think.

Just as Namjoon is about to worry himself sick, the door creaks open and you walk out. Immediately, you make eye contact with him and offer a small smile. He quickly scans your face and assumes the worst. “Oh god, did you not pass?”

“Sorry I took so long,” you avoid his question as you walk closer to him, “those one hundred questions took everything out of me.”

“Y/n, what did you get on the final?” Namjoon takes your face in his hands, searching your eyes for an answer. “Baby, I swear I really thought I prepared you well. I’m so s—”

Suddenly, you laugh. You laugh so hard your entire body shakes. Namjoon looks at you like you’ve grown another head. He asks you what’s wrong, but you can’t even answer. “You’re so funny, Joon.”

“Why are you laughing?”

You smile. “I’m laughing because you’re getting so worked up over nothing.”

“Nothing?” he asks, incredulously. “I’m worried that you didn’t pass. That’s not nothing.”

“You don’t have to worry.”

Namjoon frowns for a moment and you unfold your exam and reveal the front page to him. He blinks a few times to make sure the red letter is actually there. Slowly, a smile builds on his face and he lifts you off the ground. You laugh into his shoulder as he spins you around in circles.

As your feet meet the ground again, the smile can’t be wiped off your face. “I can’t believe I actually got a one hundred!”

“Did the professor think you cheated or something?” Namjoon jokes and you almost punch his shoulder.

“No, I just explained that you tutored me. That was all she needed to know.”

“I guess we both win, huh?”

“Win?” you ask, confused as to what he’s talking about.

Namjoon nods. “Yeah—you got the grade, and got my payments.”

You mock laugh, “Ha. Ha. I think you've gotten one too many payments from me, don’t you think?”

He takes that chance to pull your body close, so that you have to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. Namjoon looks down at you with a smirk, enjoying the way you squirm in his hold. Over the last few weeks, you’ve gotten a lot more confident in his presence and he loved it. However, he still enjoys messing with your anyway. “I think you enjoyed giving me all those payments.”

“Who said?”

“Your body,” he smiles.

“My body tends to betray my mind,” you say, fighting your own smile.

Namjoon’s hands move from your waist to cup your ass. Your eyebrows raise at his action, but you don’t object and that’s all the confirmation he needs to lean down for a kiss.

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #bangtan bookclub #bts smut #namjoon smut #bts fic #namjoon fic #rm fic #bts humor #smut #humor #fluff #rm #namjoon #private tutor #xbaepsae

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sasorikigai · 5 years ago

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My muse in a relationships || @ephemeralkryonics || accepting (Part 1)

🤗Are they physically affectionate?

Physical touch for Hanzo is immensely important; not only is it a fundamental human necessity, but the need for affection in him is unique in the sense that even he may be perceived as “a loner,” maintaining the ability to ignore relationships with others unless the necessary ones as a Grandmaster and being a parental substitute for Takeda Takahashi, there is still a sense of emptiness that exists when he is isolated from human interaction.

For him, affection is more than just an emotion, it can be considered by him as a most important requirement in healthy relationships. Affection is an ebb and flow between two people, where each individual is giving and receiving a certain amount of contact and interaction at all times. Whether it is through a hug, kiss or a cuddle, affection is the way he shows Kuai Liang how important he is in Hanzo’s world.

Physical intimacy between them not only strengthens the bond between them and fosters closeness, it serves as a major binder that helps them iron out the differences between them. Physical intimacy builds a stronger connection between two people by mitigating any existing negativity. Through exercising it, it would only enhance trust and a stronger sense of companionship between them.

🎶Do they have a type?

Hanzo seems to be gravitated towards emotionally strong people who he could lean against; resilient and insistent on their own, capable to meet his fire, but also being able to understand and extend compassion and perception. Emotions become the most visceral and primal external stimuli which he could exert without having the blueprint of him crumble and blur around the edges. As he is known to be volatile, impulsive and follows his heart more than his brain, it’s better than following the visceral manifestation of violence which he used to be subjugated under Scorpion’s fiery, demonic spirit.

As I associate Kuai as a rose; for Hanzo needs that type of significant other who can balance him out. I always headcanon that Harumi’s personality would have been very similar to that of Kuai Liang’s; quiet, altruistic, emotionally strong and stable, very chill, strong-willed and a very good moral and emotional pillar for hanzo. If Hanzo Hasashi was (and still is) the most ferocious and talented Shirai Ryu warrior in all their history, Harumi would have went down as the strong matriarch of the clan, who encompassed the clan with open arms, offering words of wisdom and advice and being a good listener. She would have served a pivotal supportive role in the clan.

😡What are their deal breakers?

His two most primordial facets include discipline and loyalty, so if someone is dubious in their morality, a perpetual liar who is distrustful and disloyal to him in any manner, there would be no forgiverance.

Because Hanzo is such a traditionalist and heavily influenced by Confucius’ teachings, its philosophy including;

Ren, the virtue of benevolence, charity, and humanity;

Yi, of honesty and uprightness;

Zhi, knowledge;

Xin, the virtue of faithfulness and integrity;

Li, correct behavior, or propriety, good manners, politeness, ceremony, worship.

Those who cannot follow the doctrines which he had been taught - he is a proper, respectfully behaviored warrior - are not worthy of pursuing any relationships with him at any cost. Kuai Liang encompasses all of this, and considers him not only a respectable warrior, but a friend, a life companion, a lover and a soulmate.

↕️Are they sub, dom or switch?

Hanzo is predominantly flexible (despite wanting to exercise control and much prefers being dominant) when it comes to lovemaking, but as his masculinity allows, he will expect to be in a dominant position even when he’s seemingly not. Intimate sex to him transcends the concept of sex, and it has to be significant in that both partners have to be emotionally connected and pushed together by the fate’s hand, one touch that fit, as old, idealized feelings would be relearned to his new body. For love to him isn’t something that is forged nor created, but has always been (taken away by deception and manipulation of Quan Chi). With Kuai Liang, he will expect himself to be in a dominant position simply because he’s more experienced one out of the two.

⏰How long do their relationships tend to last?

Until the end of his living breath. For Hanzo, love binds all romantic relationships and that bond is unbreakable. Without love, he would not exist; for love makes all hard hearts gentle. Love itself grants him a sense of reassurance, self-esteem, and love for himself. Love enhances the lives of both partners in the relationship when he is in love, his emotions are at an ultimate high. It creates a bond that is not easily broken and it lasts for his lifetime.

💍Would they ever get married?

He was married once to Harumi and he considers her as a soulmate. Although Hanzo is still mending his bleeding, septic wounds, he also has come to realization that miring in the past had been stunting his growth and development, as years and years have been spent with gnawing grief, resentment and melancholy. The desiderium, a deep longing to experience will always be there, but it’s being married (having himself absolutely devoted to responsibilities and duties that come with his marriage) that anchors his heart and settles his mind.

🏷️Do they give their partners cute nicknames?

Hanzo is mostly a traditionalist who is proper and formal, so he would often use things like ‘beloved,’ and ‘love.’ Or he would opt to use Japanese and call Kuai “運命の人 (man of destiny; soulmate),” “あなた (you, in terns of romantic/sexual love),” or “ハンサム (handsome).”

💋Are they more sensual or sexual?

He is essentially a sensualist, meaning he will utilize all the blazing, burnt, burning trails of his hands to trail along his significant other’s skin, roaming to paint his color upon his lover’s body. He’s vanilla when it comes to sex; there is a lot of eye contact, gentle caresses wanting sufficient time to explore his lover’s body. Essentially, it is a sacred act that chases away his negative emotions melt away. It anchors him, reminds him that he deserves happiness. He deserves a second chance at love, despite him always struggling with underlying guilt. He will be at his most vulnerable, with all the raw, unfiltered emotions spilling out as he reaches the climax.

In essentiality, sex is feeling the sequence of his heart beating through his lover’s lips, as they create beautiful rhythm together. It becomes this peculiar thing of dualism and dichotomy, where it’s all he wants and other times it’s what he needs the least. He wants it with all of his heart, yet his gnawing guilt and limerence towards Harumi will always be there no matter what. And he’s an absolute pessimistic optimist and believes not many will love him, because of all his underlying emotions and all the pain-riddled dourness and appears indifferent and nonchalant. Even with his hardened exterior, he’s so vulnerable and soft inside. He knows of its cruelty and indescribable beauty - and all of its otherworldly, seamless perfection of stealing each other’s breaths and letting him wrecked in cornucopia of sensations. And he wants the sharp angles or his personality and beautiful lines of his body and mind to become completely abstract as he floats in the seventh heaven, as he savors it, engrave it in his memory and write songs about it as notes imprint on his lover’s skin, with everything light and good in the world, despite him not living in it.

📖What is their favorite outside of the bedroom activity to do with their partner?

It would be either sparring or spending time in the hot springs to relax. Hanzo can harbor a lot of stress within, most of which he does not get to release beyond fighting or taking a moment in nature to relax and calm down. He also likes to delve into his artistic endeavors, preferring to paint his partner in sumi-e, writing poetry, practicing caligraphy or reading.

🛏What is their favorite bedroom activity to do with their partner?

I always imagine them being more sensual than sexual, so they would strip down naked, let their roaming hands and lips become the quenching rain that water their acrid, parched dry skin down with gossamer pitter-patters of peppered kisses and exploratory caresses that repeatedly map the coordinates of their musculature, all the imperfections and scars and all, along with the exquisite peaks and valleys of their chiseled form shining aureate under the beaming moonlight.

Their sensual, intimate, and carnal exploration could last for hours at times, The ebb and flow of time when they are entangled like this brims them with exquisite joy, exhilarating bliss and contentment, without their emotional abysmal void gnawing their unconscious, as both of them suffer from severe and lucid nightmares.

Alight brighter than the sun under Hanzo’s furnace warmth and Kuai’s misty vapor that saturate their aureate forms, through their vigorous carnal exposition of impassioned desire, gentleness and tenderness, they remind themselves that they are not alone - they are highly introverted beings who thrive in solitude and loneliness, but desire to be emotionally connected to a person, so much so that each other’s presence alone calms and numbs their pain - as the cruelty and violence of their daily lives become offset by the exploration of body, mind and soul.

💚Are they prone to jealousy?

While Hanzo has his own streaks of insecurity and paranoia, he is confident and holds himself in a high regard, and also does his significant partner. Because of his lack of jealousy, his instincts are signaling that he is in a relationship with someone who he will be fully able to trust. He can appear concerned and worried, but he will never exhibit it openly. He has high sense of self-worth, and don't feel envious of Kuai’s circumstances or relationships. For comparison is the thief of joy and Hanzo is well aware that if he is constantly stacking up his life against someone else's, chances are he will find something to nitpick. Instead, he prefers to just plainly fixate on the positives - in his life and in the lives of others that naturally involves both of them as Grandmasters and Protectors of the Earthrealm sworn to protect it until their last breath.

😘Does their demeanor change when in a relationship?

In general, people are very much affected by those around them, and not just behaviorally. A growing body of scientific evidence suggests that people’s self-concepts actually change when they’re a relationship and Hanzo is no different from the normalcy of how people act. Because their relationship is healthy; they have mutual respect towards one another and are highly intelligent, sympathetic people in their hearts. Because deep down, they are kind, responsible and emotionally resilient, so they are going to only substantially improve their chances of maintaining a stable and satisfying marriage.

#✗ obsessive cathartic (headcanon)#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ again and always (scorpion x sub-zero)#ephemeralkryonics

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blxe-skys-of-coxrage · 5 years ago

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[So funny thing is Dima shares the same astrological sign as me. I was curious to see what it says about Sagittarius men. And I was not disappointed. I’ll put the deets under a cut. Fair warning it talks about the whole nine miles including bedroom stuff.]

Sagittarius man in love

When a Sagittarius man falls in love, it is nothing new. His Sun is in a sign ruled by Jupiter and this makes him prone to fall in love quickly, acting like a conqueror that has to win the hearts of many. In general, it is good to keep this man on a distance for a while, until his intentions become clear and his emotions stable. Even though he will enjoy spontaneity and romances that start on a whim, he will have the chance to deepen his feelings only when he has something to fight for. He belongs to the Fire element after all, and it is always important for him to be active and challenged in his passion, on his way to win someone’s heart.

Sagittarius man sexuality

Sex with a Sagittarius man is usually fun. He doesn’t suffer from the typical lack of confidence and, as in everything in life he wants to have a good time in his sexual relations. He can be quite promiscuous and change a lot of sexual partners, but this can make him an excellent lover who understands how to satisfy his partner. As a man ruled by Jupiter, he likes everything in abundance, sex too. Still, this nature ruled by Jupiter speaks of a believer. If he puts his faith in one true love, chances are he will last in his relationships, sometimes only out of conviction. If he does, this will give him enough emotional depth to be someone’s true love.

Sagittarius man in relationships

He is simply not stable. It might be offensive to say that a Sagittarius man is unreliable, but this is the closest to the truth when it comes to his relationships. He might be perfectly reliable on a daily basis, but who’s to say how his feelings will develop tomorrow or in just a couple of hours? Sagittarius is a mutable sign, and the element of Fire gives this man enough speed in his changes that he seems hard to contain. Still, when he finds himself in a relationship with a partner who can follow his pace, there is a great chance he will become committed, faithful and unusually stable. The most important thing he needs to find in his relationship is purpose and a sense of a meaningful future.

Can you trust your Sagittarius man

In general, this is a man who doesn’t lie very well. This is why he will rarely choose to do so, even when he is unfaithful or falls in love with someone else. We can say that he can be trusted when it comes to things he says, but he cannot really be trusted when it comes to the stability of his emotional affection. He is also a man who will easily give in to all sorts of delusions and idealism, and this can make him untrustworthy, not because he lies to you, but because he lies to himself and sees the world through pink goggles.

Dating Sagittarius men

Dating a Sagittarius man can be incredibly fun. His big smile will make it impossible for you to say “no” to any of his new ideas and activities he suggests. His sometimes ridiculous faith in lucky outcomes might make him choose extreme or even dangerous activities, and he needs a partner crazy enough to follow, but still smart enough to stop him when needed. This doesn’t mean he needs control, but more of a rational mind to help him make the right choices. Dates with him will never be boring, and although he will want to go to the movies and have a nice dinner, simple things like these won’t satisfy his need for adventure. If his finances allow, it is very probable that already on your second date you might end up with him in a jet plane to a distant destination.

Understanding Sagittarius men

Sagittarius men are often misconstrued to be superficial and childish. Whoever wishes to form a quality relationship with this man needs to understand that the sign of Sagittarius is a continuance of Scorpio while preceding Capricorn, so there can really be nothing superficial about it. This is the man in search for truth and he won’t rest until he finds it. This doesn’t just mean he seeks honesty in his partners, but his own honest inner feelings. Most often he doesn’t even know why he doesn’t want to remain in the same relationship, or why he needs that much change and adventure. This doesn’t stop anyone around him to understand that this is because of his search for that one, true direction. He wants to find the place of absolute synthesis and truth, and only when he finds it with one person, will he remain faithful and committed to them.

Sagittarius Man Likes and Dislikes

He is unreliable, childish, easily loses focus and he can sometimes be pushy, with the need to impose his opinions and convictions on others. On the other hand, he is optimistic, full of faith in a better future and filled with energy to create anything he thinks of, or help those around him when in need.

How to choose a gift for your Sagittarius Man

There is nothing easier than buying a plane ticket for your Sagittarius man. To any destination. He will be satisfied with the bus ticket too, but if he gets a chance to fly, his gratitude will multiply greatly. He likes things big and colorful, even when you see him only in black, beige and grey. You can always choose a book of jokes, funny things children say, philosophy and the search for truth. He will value a useless present if it is absurd enough, so go with a traffic sign for his apartment or something similar he thinks he’d never get.

#[blue birb of paradise ~ ooc]#[IC ~ The King of Blue Lions ~ Dimitri]#headcanons #long post tw

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theadmiringbog · 5 years ago

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The aggregation of marginal gains

The philosophy of searching for a tiny margin of improvement in everything you do.

Brailsford said, “The whole principle came from the idea that if you broke down everything you could think of that goes into riding a bike, and then improve it by 1 percent, you will get a significant increase when you put them all together.”

1% BETTER EVERY DAY

1% worse every day for one year. 0.99365 = 00.03

1% better every day for one year. 1.01365 = 37.78

FIGURE 1: The effects of small habits compound over time. For example, if you can get just 1 percent better each day, you’ll end up with results that are nearly 37 times better after one year.

Habits are the compound interest of self-improvement. The same way that money multiplies through compound interest, the effects of your habits multiply as you repeat them.

They seem to make little difference on any given day and yet the impact they deliver over the months and years can be enormous.

That said, it doesn’t matter how successful or unsuccessful you are right now. What matters is whether your habits are putting you on the path toward success. You should be far more concerned with your current trajectory than with your current results.

There are three layers of behavior change:

a change in your outcomes,

a change in your processes, or

a change in your identity.

The first layer is changing your outcomes. This level is concerned with changing your results: losing weight, publishing a book, winning a championship. Most of the goals you set are associated with this level of change. The second layer is changing your process. This level is concerned with changing your habits and systems: implementing a new routine at the gym, decluttering your desk for better workflow, developing a meditation practice. Most of the habits you build are associated with this level. The third and deepest layer is changing your identity. This level is concerned with changing your beliefs: your worldview, your self-image, your judgments about yourself and others. Most of the beliefs, assumptions, and biases you hold are associated with this level.

With outcome-based habits, the focus is on what you want to achieve. With identity-based habits, the focus is on who you wish to become.

Imagine two people resisting a cigarette. When offered a smoke, the first person says, “No thanks. I’m trying to quit.” It sounds like a reasonable response, but this person still believes they are a smoker who is trying to be something else. They are hoping their behavior will change while carrying around the same beliefs. The second person declines by saying, “No thanks. I’m not a smoker.” It’s a small difference, but this statement signals a shift in identity. Smoking was part of their former life, not their current one. They no longer identify as someone who smokes.

Behind every system of actions are a system of beliefs. The system of a democracy is founded on beliefs like freedom, majority rule, and social equality. The system of a dictatorship has a very different set of beliefs like absolute authority and strict obedience.

The goal is not to learn an instrument, the goal is to become a musician.

Many people walk through life in a cognitive slumber, blindly following the norms attached to their identity. “I’m terrible with directions.” “I’m not a morning person.” “I’m bad at remembering people’s names.” “I’m always late.” “I’m not good with technology.” “I’m horrible at math.” . . . and a thousand other variations. When you have repeated a story to yourself for years, it is easy to slide into these mental grooves and accept them as a fact. In time, you begin to resist certain actions because “that’s not who I am.” There is internal pressure to maintain your self-image and behave in a way that is consistent with your beliefs. You find whatever way you can to avoid contradicting yourself.

THE TWO-STEP PROCESS TO CHANGING YOUR IDENTITY

Decide the type of person you want to be.

Prove it to yourself with small wins.

There are three levels of change: outcome change, process change, and identity change.

The most effective way to change your habits is to focus not on what you want to achieve, but on who you wish to become.

Your identity emerges out of your habits.

Every action is a vote for the type of person you wish to become.

Becoming the best version of yourself requires you to continuously edit your beliefs, and to upgrade and expand your identity.

The real reason habits matter is not because they can get you better results (although they can do that), but because they can change your beliefs about yourself.

When the levers are in the right positions, creating good habits is effortless. When they are in the wrong positions, it is nearly impossible.

How to Create a Good Habit

The 1st law (Cue): Make it obvious.

The 2nd law (Craving): Make it attractive.

The 3rd law (Response): Make it easy.

The 4th law (Reward): Make it satisfying.

We can invert these laws to learn how to break a bad habit.

How to Break a Bad Habit

Inversion of the 1st law (Cue): Make it invisible.

Inversion of the 2nd law (Craving): Make it unattractive.

Inversion of the 3rd law (Response): Make it difficult.

Inversion of the 4th law (Reward): Make it unsatisfying.

A habit is a behavior that has been repeated enough times to become automatic.

The ultimate purpose of habits is to solve the problems of life with as little energy and effort as possible.

Any habit can be broken down into a feedback loop that involves four steps: cue, craving, response, and reward.

The Four Laws of Behavior Change are a simple set of rules we can use to build better habits. They are (1) make it obvious, (2) make it attractive, (3) make it easy, and (4) make it satisfying.

Once you have a full list, look at each behavior, and ask yourself, “Is this a good habit, a bad habit, or a neutral habit?” If it is a good habit, write “+” next to it. If it is a bad habit, write “–”. If it is a neutral habit, write “=”.

The process of behavior change always starts with awareness. You need to be aware of your habits before you can change them.

“During the next week, I will partake in at least 20 minutes of vigorous exercise on [DAY] at [TIME] in [PLACE].”

Researchers refer to this as an implementation intention, which is a plan you make beforehand about when and where to act. That is, how you intend to implement a particular habit.

The simple way to apply this strategy to your habits is to fill out this sentence: I will [BEHAVIOR] at [TIME] in [LOCATION]. Meditation. I will meditate for one minute at 7 a.m. in my kitchen. Studying. I will study Spanish for twenty minutes at 6 p.m. in my bedroom. Exercise. I will exercise for one hour at 5 p.m. in my local gym.

Habit stacking is a special form of an implementation intention. Rather than pairing your new habit with a particular time and location, you pair it with a current habit. This method, which was created by BJ Fogg as part of his Tiny Habits program, can be used to design an obvious cue for nearly any habit.* The habit stacking formula is: “After [CURRENT HABIT], I will [NEW HABIT].”

Motivation Is Overrated; Environment Often Matters More

When scientists analyze people who appear to have tremendous self-control, it turns out those individuals aren’t all that different from those who are struggling. Instead, “disciplined” people are better at structuring their lives in a way that does not require heroic willpower and self-control. In other words, they spend less time in tempting situations.

HOW TO CREATE A GOOD HABIT

The 1st Law: Make It Obvious

1.1: Fill out the Habits Scorecard. Write down your current habits to become aware of them.

1.2: Use implementation intentions: “I will [BEHAVIOR] at [TIME] in [LOCATION].”

1.3: Use habit stacking: “After [CURRENT HABIT], I will [NEW HABIT].”

1.4: Design your environment. Make the cues of good habits obvious and visible.

You can download a printable version of this habits cheat sheet at: atomichabits.com/cheatsheet

It is the anticipation of a reward��not the fulfillment of it—that gets us to take action. The greater the anticipation, the greater the dopamine spike. Temptation bundling is one way to make your habits more attractive. The strategy is to pair an action you want to do with an action you need to do.

We desire to fit in and belong to the tribe. We tend to imitate the habits of three social groups: the close (family and friends), the many (the tribe), and the powerful (those with status and prestige).

One of the most effective things you can do to build better habits is to join a culture where (1) your desired behavior is the normal behavior and (2) you already have something in common with the group.

Focus on taking action, not being in motion.

The amount of time you have been performing a habit is not as important as the number of times you have performed it.

It is human nature to follow the Law of Least Effort, which states that when deciding between two similar options, people will naturally gravitate toward the option that requires the least amount of work.

The moment you decide between starting your homework or grabbing the video game controller. These choices are a fork in the road.

DECISIVE MOMENTS

FIGURE 14: The difference between a good day and a bad day is often a few productive and healthy choices made at decisive moments.

The Two-Minute Rule states,

“When you start a new habit, it should take less than two minutes to do.”

Sometimes success is less about making good habits easy and more about making bad habits hard. This is an inversion of the 3rd Law of Behavior Change: make it difficult.

A commitment device is a choice you make in the present that controls your actions in the future. It is a way to lock in future behavior, bind you to good habits, and restrict you from bad ones. When Victor Hugo shut his clothes away so he could focus on writing, he was creating a commitment device.

The Cardinal Rule of Behavior Change: What is immediately rewarded is repeated. What is immediately punished is avoided. To get a habit to stick you need to feel immediately successful—even if it’s in a small way. The first three laws of behavior change—make it obvious, make it attractive, and make it easy—increase the odds that a behavior will be performed this time. The fourth law of behavior change—make it satisfying—increases the odds that a behavior will be repeated next time.

Dyrsmid began each morning with two jars on his desk. One was filled with 120 paper clips. The other was empty. As soon as he settled in each day, he would make a sales call. Immediately after, he would move one paper clip from the full jar to the empty jar and the process would begin again. “Every morning I would start with 120 paper clips in one jar and I would keep dialing the phone until I had moved them all to the second jar,” he told me.

I like to refer to this technique as the Paper Clip Strategy and, over the years, I’ve heard from readers who have employed it in a variety of ways. One woman shifted a hairpin from one container to another whenever she wrote a page of her book. Another man moved a marble from one bin to the next after each set of push-ups.

Benjamin Franklin. Beginning at age twenty, Franklin carried a small booklet everywhere he went and used it to track thirteen personal virtues. This list included goals like “Lose no time. Be always employed in something useful” and “Avoid trifling conversation.” At the end of each day, Franklin would open his booklet and record his progress.

What can we do to make tracking easier? First, whenever possible, measurement should be automated.

The habit stacking + habit tracking formula is: After [CURRENT HABIT], I will [TRACK MY HABIT]. After I hang up the phone from a sales call, I will move one paper clip over. After I finish each set at the gym, I will record it in my workout journal. After I put my plate in the dishwasher, I will write down what I ate.

HOW TO RECOVER QUICKLY WHEN YOUR HABITS BREAK DOWN

Whenever this happens to me, I try to remind myself of a simple rule:

never miss twice.

Genes cannot be easily changed, which means they provide a powerful advantage in favorable circumstances and a serious disadvantage in unfavorable circumstances. Habits are easier when they align with your natural abilities. Choose the habits that best suit you. Play a game that favors your strengths. If you can’t find a game that favors you, create one.

The Goldilocks Rule states that humans experience peak motivation when working on tasks that are right on the edge of their current abilities. Not too hard. Not too easy. Just right.

THE GOLDILOCKS RULE

FIGURE 15: Maximum motivation occurs when facing a challenge of just

“At some point it comes down to who can handle the boredom of training every day, doing the same lifts over and over and over.”

Habits + Deliberate Practice = Mastery

Each habit unlocks the next level of performance. It’s an endless cycle.

MASTERING ONE HABIT MASTERING A FIELD

FIGURE 16: The process of mastery requires that you progressively layer improvements

As an example, let’s say that Magic Johnson—the Lakers star player at the time—had 11 points, 8 rebounds, 12 assists, 2 steals, and 5 turnovers in a game. Magic also got credit for an “unsung hero” deed by diving after a loose ball (+1). Finally, he played a total of 33 minutes in this imaginary game. The positive numbers (11 + 8 + 12 + 2 + 1) add up to 34. Then, we subtract the 5 turnovers (34–5) to get 29. Finally, we divide 29 by 33 minutes played. 29/33 = 0.879 Magic’s CBE number here would be 879.

“Riley trumpeted the top performers in the league in bold lettering on the blackboard each week and measured them against the corresponding players on his own roster. Solid, reliable players generally rated a score in the 600s, while elite players scored at least 800. Magic Johnson, who submitted 138 triple-doubles in his career, often scored over 1,000.” The Lakers also emphasized year-over-year progress by making historical comparisons of CBE data. Riley said, “We stacked the month of November 1986, next to November 1985, and showed the players whether they were doing better or worse than at the same point last season. Then we showed them how their performance figures for December 1986, stacked up against November’s.” The Lakers rolled out CBE in October 1986. Eight months later, they were NBA champions.

And sometimes, you won’t feel like sticking with it and you’ll need to make it satisfying. Behaviors are effortless here. Behaviors are difficult here. Obvious Invisible Attractive Unattractive Easy Hard Satisfying Unsatisfying You want to push your good habits toward the left side of the spectrum by making them obvious, attractive, easy, and satisfying. Meanwhile, you want

Awareness comes before desire.

Happiness is simply the absence of desire.

Peace occurs when you don’t turn your observations into problems.

With a big enough why you can overcome any how.

Being curious is better than being smart.

#Atomic Habits #books

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favefandomimagines · 6 years ago

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The Show Must Go On (r.t.)

(I can’t remember what happens word for word so bear with me lol i tried my best & i changed some stuff to fit the plot of the imagine & i’m well aware that Roger’s first daughter wasn’t born until ‘86 buuuut i altered reality just a bit)

When you and Roger got married and had your daughter, he completely changed. He was still the over confident drummer you fell in love with, but he grew up in a sense. He didn’t think about other girls, didn’t look at other girls. Just performed with the band and came home to you.

You were rather close with the other members of the band. You’ve been around since the beginning and they were your family. You were closest with Freddie, knowing that he was there to listen when you needed to rant about Roger. And he absolutely adored your daughter. You didn’t bring her around to the studio or to concerts much, because she was still young, but you brought her by Freddie’s house often.

When Freddie was having an old fashioned rager, you obviously had to go. Not just because it was Freddie but because you and Roger hadn’t been out together in what felt like years.

Walking into the house, the music was loud, there were people you had never seen before and it was a complete circus. Just how Freddie liked it.

You and Roger were sitting with Brian, John and their wives, feeling a bit too old for the party scene now.

“Does anyone else feel very out of place?” You asked them. “I felt out of place the minute I stepped through that door.” John answered. “Maybe we should head out.” Roger suggested. You all nodded your heads and began to stand up. “Where are you going?” Freddie asked appearing in front of the group. “We’re leaving, Fred. It’s getting late.” Roger answered. Brian and John were the first to leave before Freddie stopped you and Roger.

You couldn’t really hear much over the music, but you heard a couple of words that were enough to make your heart sink. “Should I tell Y/N what you think being loyal is?” Freddie said to your husband. “Shut it, Fred.” Roger snapped before taking your hand and weaving your way through the crowd and out the door.

You were quiet the entire ride home. Not really wanting to believe what Freddie said, but why would he lie? You entered the house and dropped your purse on the table next to the door.

“Y/N,” Roger started. You held up your hand, signaling him to stop talking. “What was Fred talking about, Roger?” You asked. “He was drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying.” He answered. “Did you cheat on me?” You questioned.

The silence in the room was deafening. “Answer the question.” You added. Again, silence. Roger didn’t know what to say. He was in a lose-lose situation. If he told you the truth you’d say you didn’t believe him and if he didn’t say anything, you’d think he was unfaithful to you.

You closed your eyes to get rid of the tears that were pooling in your eyes. “We’re staying at Mary’s tonight.” You announced walking up the stairs. “We?” Roger asked. “You’re not taking her. She’ll know something is wrong.” He added. “Because something is wrong, Roger. Her father cheated on her mother with a fucking groupie.” You snapped walking to their bedroom.

You began to wake her up gently, leaning down to the level of the bed. “Hey, baby. We’re going to go stay at Aunt Mary’s tonight.” You whispered. “Why?” She asked in her small voice. “Daddy isn’t feeling too well. We’re going to Aunt Mary’s to let him rest.” You lied, knowing she’ll believe it.

You grabbed her a small bag with a change of clothes, as Roger watched helplessly from the doorway. “Are you ready to go, love?” You asked her. She nodded her head, still sleepy. “Say goodbye to daddy.” You instructed her.

She walked lazily over to Roger as he bent down to her height. “Bye daddy. I hope you feel better.” She told him as she wrapped her small arms around his neck.

How could he betray you and give up the life he seemed so excited to have. “Bye, darling. I’ll get better soon and you’ll be back here tomorrow.” He said to her.

You hid the tears that were falling from your eyes, trying not to let your daughter see. You were trying to keep a strong facade but you were breaking inside. You only hoped you would find out the truth.

You walked your daughter out to the car and put her in her car seat before walking back to the front door where Roger stood.

“Why would you do this? I’ve done nothing but love you unconditionally. I disobeyed my parents when they told me not to marry you. I did everything for you and you go and destroy our marriage.” You cried. “I would never cheat on you, Y/N. You have to believe me.” Roger replied, equally as upset as you.

You shook your head before you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before walking to your car and driving away.

You got your daughter out of the car and walked up to the front door of Mary’s house. You knocked a few times, with your daughter in your arms when the light in the foyer turned on.

The door opened and Mary was a bit chocked to see you standing there. “Y/N? What are you doing here? Is everything alright?” She asked ushering you to come inside.

“Let me set her down first and i’ll tell you everything.” You whispered to Mary. She led you to her guest room so you can set down your daughter so she could sleep comfortably.

Once you did so, you and Mary sat on her living room couch and you broke down.

“He cheated. Roger cheated on me and Freddie had to be the one to tell me.” You cried. “Y/N, i’m so sorry. Did Roger tell you he did it?” Mary asked. “No, but why wouldn’t he defend himself?” You questioned.

Mary soothed you before the sound of the phone made you jump slightly. Mary stood up slowly and walked to go pick up the phone.

“Mary, it’s Roger. I need to talk Y/N.” She beard his voice say on the other end. She could tell he was hurting. “Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Roger.” She said before you stood up and stood next to her to hear what he was saying. “Then can you tell her something for me?” He asked. “Of course.” Mary said.

You heard him take a deep breath before he spoke again. “Tell her that I didn’t cheat on her. I would never do that to her, she’s the love of my life. She has been since the first time we met in that stupid intro to philosophy course at University. I have been faithful to her since I grew a pair and told her I loved her for the first time,” He started before he paused. “Tell her, I’ll be at the studio tomorrow all day. If she believes me, tell her to come with Y/D/N. Brian really wants to see her.” Roger finished.

“I’ll tell her.” Mary said before she hung up the phone. She looked over at you and could see your were a mess. She hugged you and soothed you until you cried so much you could barely keep your eyes open.

You walked up to the guest room and saw your daughter peacefully sleeping on one side. You carefully got into the bed, hoping not to wake her up. Soon after, you drifted off to sleep.

••

Roger and the rest of the band were in the studio, trying to record a new song. Roger was fuming just being in the same room as Freddie because of what happened at the party.

“Rog, we gotta get started.” Brian told him. Roger looked at the clock and knew that if you were coming, you would have been there by now.

He sighed before nodding his head and walking to sit behind his drum kit. He picked up his sticks, the sticks he’s had since they recorded Night at the Opera and looked at the initials carved in the side.

Your initials were on the right stick and his were on the left. He used it as a reminder of the only person who’s ever been able to keep him sane.

They began to play the song, to see how they would sound and if they needed to record a second time.

You entered the studio but stood behind the class since they were recording. Your daughter was a ball excitement, ready to see her three uncles and her father. You could see just how upset Roger really was. If he did it, would he have been as upset as he was? It only proved to you that he was telling the truth and Freddie was just upset when he said those things.

The song ended, and you walked towards the door to enter the studio. Y/D/N ran through the door. “Uncle Brian!” She yelled running to the guitarist. “My darling Y/D/N! How are you?” He asked scooping her up. “Daddy was sick last night so we had a slumber party at Aunt Mary’s.” She told the man. You stepped through the door and Roger almost dropped his drum sticks.

Brian, John and Freddie looked between you and Roger, knowing something must have happened between the two of you.

“Y/N.” Roger said. Freddie walked over to you and you gave him a smile before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I apologize for what I said last night, darling. It simply wasn’t true.” He told you. “I know, Fred. It’s okay.” You said.

“We’re going to let you two talk. Y/D/N, let’s go play outside.” John said to her. “Yay!” She cheered before the three men exited the room.

You and Roger looked at each other, him being completely surprised that you showed up.

“I heard what you told Mary.” You finally said. “I believe you, Rog. But how do I know you won’t actually do it. I’ve seen the girls who follow you and the band around and they can be pretty persuasive. I was one of those girls.” You added.

Roger walked up to you and took your hands in his. “You are the only woman I’ve ever had eyes for. And it will stay that way. Until death do us part and all.” He told you. “I love you.” You said. “I love you too, Y/N.” He said before his hands moved from yours up to your waist, pulling you closer to him before he kissed you like he hasn’t done it for months.

“How about we try for baby number two?” He asked with a smirk as you parted. “Your daughter is outside. We’re not doing that here.” You laughed. “Well, then let’s go see one of the greatest things that’s ever happened to me.” He said wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “And what’s the other thing?” You asked. “Why love that spot is for you.” He answered.

You looked up at him, with such admiration that you didn’t even notice he left your side to go to your daughter. You always loved watching him with her and it always reminded you of why you loved him so much.

“Mommy, come play with us!” Y/D/N called. You smiled at her before walking to join her and your husband.

And in that moment, everything was okay. You had your daughter, you had great friends and were married to the only man you’ve ever loved.

(shit ending i’m sorry 😂)

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #imagines #queen

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wellkepteden · 6 years ago

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Prompt 01: Questionnaire

(content warning for: suicide mention and uhhh brain washing? kind of? idk how to warn for that, and some mild like.... referenced medical gore idk)

01. Tell us about your character’s name. Was it given to them or chosen? Does it hold any special meaning? If your character has aliases or nicknames, how did they get them and what do they mean?

“What do you want to be called?”

“I don’t understand the question, sir.”

“Well, I can’t just keep calling you Sixteen.”

“Technically my full designation is PM-16-21A.”

“That’s not a name, you need a name, kid. What do you want to be called?”

The Keeper wasn’t really a man that cared for names, so he never bothered naming his charge either. It wasn’t until Eden reached the cybernetics expert, Sargo Hemmel, that she received a name. It was a long discussion, but ultimately she begged off deciding on a personal name for long enough that he gave up and named her after a dancer he’d known in his youth.

As for surname, Eden had a stronger opinion. It’s really just a pun on the fact that she was partially raised by the Keeper. She thinks she was very well kept. Hemmel tried to convince her to pick a more common name, but she does have her stubborn moments.

02. What is your character’s relationship to their homeworld? Do they hold fond memories of it, or do they hate it? Are they still here, and if not, do they miss it?

Eden didn’t get to see the outside very much while she was on Dromund Kaas. She remembers frequently listening to the rain, but even before she was stolen she was kept carefully away from public view. Now, it’s just a place that’s too dangerous to ever return to. A wistful dream that was never really a reality.

03. Describe your character’s relationship with those who raised them. Was it positive? Negative? Neutral? What sorts of ideologies were they raised with, and do they still stand by them now?

Even without the extra mental programming, Eden is a pretty naturally friendly person. She got along well with the scientists that watched over her in her first few years, and she absolutely adored the Keeper no matter how hard he could be to read and reach. Even though she was almost an adult by the time she reached him, she always considered Hemmel to be just as much of a parental figure, too. Luckily, she’s allowed to keep in contact with him even if the others are now far out of reach.

Growing up, the message was hammered into her that she should never trust anyone and that the world was a harsh place where you could never relax your guard. It never really took. Somehow, Eden remains a font of optimism almost no matter what happens. Just about everyone that helped raise her is convinced it’s going to get her killed someday (if they don’t think it already has).

04. What is your character’s relationship with the Force? Is your character Force-sensitive? Whether or not they are, do they believe in it? Do they lean more towards the dark or the light or are they somewhere in between?

Eden is force sensitive!! Not extremely, but enough that had circumstances been different she probably would have been picked up by either of the large force sensitive organizations. Hilariously, though, despite her own sensitivity to it she’s still not completely convinced it actually exists. She has a hard time with things that she can’t quantify in a way she’s comfortable with, and the implications of the force’s existence and so on make her Very uncomfortable so she tries not to think about it.

For the most part she only really uses it to convince people to help her, or to grab things that are out of reach. She doesn’t do much fighting, and was never really trained, so that’s about the extent of her abilities.

If she was trained more, though, she would definitely lean towards the light side. Not necessarily because of any inherent goodness, but because she’s not near as in touch with her more unpleasant emotions as she would need to be to harness the dark.

05. What three word would you use to describe your character? What three words would your character use to describe themself? What three words would someone close to them use?

me: bubbly, absent, brittle

eden: tall, pale, blonde

hemmel: never shuts up

06. Describe your character’s aesthetic. Do they tend towards fashion or function? Do they like to accessorize? How does this extend into their own personal spaces, such as their home or their workspace?

Eden tends towards whatever is going to help her complete her current job. That pretty much always comes first. Outside of that, though, she does very much like dressing up in things that make her feel good, and will often spend paychecks on nicer clothing. Textures tend to be more important to her than looks, but feeling like she looks good is important too.

Since others are rarely welcome on her ship it’s become one big cozy nest though, honestly. She likes to keep trophies and anything, really, that catches her eye. It’s important to her that she gets to do Whatever she wants with her space, after having grown up without a real space to call her own.

07. What are your character’s vices? Guilty pleasures? Bad habits? Weak spots?

A love for all things luxurious has followed Eden since her first time inside a rich person’s living space. Not that she ever wants to go as wild as so many of them do, but she does have a serious weak spot for the finer things in life. One of the quickest ways to her heart is well crafted gifts, whether they’re food or clothes or something else.

Outside of that, she has a particular fondness for cybernetic modification and loves to be filled with the latest tech. (in more ways than one ;D o god what did i just say)

Also there is her habit of sleeping with... Just..... A Lot of the people she works with. And the people she doesn’t work with. She doesn’t consider any of that a bad habit, though, so I’m not sure it belongs in this section.

08. Tell us about your character’s relationship with food. What are their favorites? Do they enjoy cooking? Are they adventurous? Will they eat absolutely anything or are they hard to please?

Growing up, food was for nourishment exclusively. So, of course, now that she’s on her own she’s abandoned that philosophy completely. Good food, it turns out, is delicious and makes her feel good and Eden is happy to indulge whenever she can. That being said, she doesn’t have all that much experience cooking because she would much rather let others do it for her, BUT she has helped others out a good few times and she loves working in tandem with people in the kitchen.

Also, she’s unlikely to try something new unless someone has specifically recommended it. Getting her to eat something she dislikes is very difficult, and she would much rather avoid doing it to herself.

09. How does your character feel about engaging in relationships—romantic and / or sexual—with others? What is their history like? Do they fall in love easily? Are they constantly in and out of relationships?

Eden loves easily and lightly, and her attitudes about romance and sex are basically identical. Both are very fun! She loves people, and she loves affection, and for her sex is not much more serious than dancing (though she’s never pushy about it, either). Commitment is never on the table, though. From the start of any given encounter, it’s very clearly stated that Eden is probably going to be moving on in days or weeks, off to the next planet and the next job.

She does have a few off and on partners that she falls into familiar patterns with when they occupy the same space, but even those fall much more into a friends with benefits area than anything more serious. If asked, Eden will say very dismissively that she’s loved many times, and it’s true that she comes to love and adore people very easily, but she’s never related to the poems and songs about romance. She’s never really missed someone when they were away from her, or had her heart ache for them. Frankly, she thinks it sounds unpleasant.

10. What is your character’s pain tolerance like? Can they hold their own in a fight, despite injury? If someone hurts them with the aim of gaining information, how much can they take before they cave?

Don’t hurt Eden !! She hates it and will do anything in her power to avoid it. She’s not even particularly into spanking in the bedroom.

Poor Hemmel has to like fully knock her out every time she comes in for an upgrade, too, cause she’s very.... Reactive. Horrible at staying still.

That said, lying and disobeying direct orders already literally physically hurt her so someone wouldn’t need to torture her much to get information out of her. Although, on the other hand, she’s also physically incapable of sharing certain information. Regardless, in the event of an emergency she has several kill switches set up that she can activate to remove herself as a liability if it becomes clear that she’s not going to escape.

11. What is your character’s weapon of choice? Are they more skilled as a melee fighter or do they have more skill with ranged weapons? What’s their fighting style like? What sort of training do they have behind them?

No weapons!! If Eden is in a fight then she’s already failed, no weapons! She keeps a knife on her but it’s a utility tool not for fighting. The Keeper and Hemmel both tried to teach her to fight so she has Some training in blaster handling and etc, but she mostly refuses to even entertain the idea. If there’s any chance of avoiding a fight she’ll take it, every time.

12. Does your character have any words or catchphrases that they say frequently? Tell us about how they picked them up.

When on autopilot she tends towards Very Polite, so between that and her time spent with Hemmel I’m sure she has a number of stock phrases. I just don’t know what they are yet, so I’ll get back to you on that.

Outside of that, though, she does have kind of a particular way of speaking about her. Often, when speaking to someone she'll have an air about her like she’s sharing a very special secret with them, or a joke that no one else gets to be on. A hushed, amused tone comes to her most naturally.

EDIT: i forgot sometimes in the middle of a conversation she’ll get a strong urge to drop in a “For the good of the Empire” but usually she manages to resist...... it’s just muscle memory honestly

13. Tell us about a negative experience your character has had with either the Jedi or the Sith, and how this has affected their standing. Whether currently aligned or unaligned with either faction, if forced to choose, how would they side?

Eden was raised on horror stories about the Sith-- though he worked with them, in his private moments the Keeper was not very fond. Perhaps because he worked alongside so many. However, out in her daily life Eden hasn’t had the opportunity to meet all that many Sith or Jedi individuals, and so remains largely neutral on the subject.

That being said... You can’t miss the destruction that a Sith leaves behind, and that is something she’s witnessed on any number of occasions. So, between the Sith and their horror, and the Jedi who she views as similar to any other authority figure, if forced to choose she would lean towards the Jedi. At least, as far as she knows, they kill people less.

14. How would your character react to seeing a relative or friend on the opposing side of a battle or mission?

If a friend is on the opposite end of a mission, then either Eden is currently working a con with them, or she has royally screwed up. Regardless, it’s not as though she’s going to be any more willing to fight them than she is anyone else.

15. Describe a memory that your character finds embarrassing.

Shame doesn’t actually come all that easily to Eden-- she’s not self conscious about many things. However, there were a couple of moments in which she deeply regretted not doing more research ahead of time. Though he taught her many things, there were ways in which the Keeper neglected her education, and Hemmel didn’t necessarily know that she had those gaps.

What I’m saying is she had Absolutely no idea what she was doing the first time she had sex and was very much trying to learn on the fly, which is a terrible idea and resulted in a very embarrassed and giggly end to the evening.

16. What goals does your character hold for themself and what steps have they taken towards achieving them? How far are they willing to go to reach them? What is their be-all and end-all?

Though she would say that survival and fun are her only goals, Eden is also fervently searching for a way to undo what the Empire did to her head. Cybernetics have proved unhelpful in that area, and it’s difficult to find any experts that don’t have pre-existing Imperial connections. At the moment, her search has stalled and she’s trying very hard not to think about it, but she would do almost anything to de-program herself, barring hurting someone she cared about.

17. What is the one thing your character would change about their life if they were given the chance? What other lives could they have lived as a result?

Honestly, Eden doesn’t much regret the way she was born or the way she was raised, at least not in any way that she would admit to herself. But she does sometimes dream of a universe in which her head and her actions were entirely her own.

18. Living in such a high-conflict time, how does your character feel about doing what they must to survive? Will they hurt or kill others—either directly or indirectly—to protect themself and / or those close to them? If so, do they regret it when all is said and done?

This is an area in which Eden is Highly Conflicted! Honestly, fighting is a very bottom of the list Last Resort for her, and in 99.9% of situations she’s convinced that there are alternatives and that she’ll find them. Usually, she’s right. A good stealth field can solve a lot of problems.

19. What is the biggest problem your character is currently dealing with?

Well! Her head isn’t entirely her own! But that’s more of an ongoing issue. Right now she’s low key wrestling with the morality of continuing to stay aggressively neutral as the galactic fighting seems to be only getting worse instead of better. This may be something she solves by going Robin Hood sometime in the near future, but that’s still hugely up for debate.

20. Give us 3+ headcanons of any length or subject matter.

1. Programming: As referenced multiple times in the questions above, before she was stolen away the Imperials did manage to fuck around with Eden’s brain a fair amount. It’s mildly experimental tech, but so far largely successful. Unfortunately, they didn’t finish in Eden’s case which actually leaves her in considerably more danger than she would be otherwise. To avoid doing damage (psychological or physical), they were moving slowly with the Watcher kids, implementing broad ideas at first and then refining them once they had really settled in.

Eden never got to the refining stage, so she’s left with broad strokes programming like “no lying, no hurting others, no disobeying a direct order, no sharing government secrets”. Had she managed to keep going for another few years, these things would’ve been refined in scope to things like “no lying to a superior officer, no hurting others unless threatened,” and so on. But, it is what it is.

Violating any of these rules, as it is, leaves her with a blinding headache that is very rarely worth it. Luckily, her Keeper was careful to teach her ways of talking and thinking around some of the programming, as like many things of this nature it can be finicky and there are loopholes to be found.

2. Seams: Eden has very many scars, all of them thin and almost invisible, which she affectionately refers to as her ‘seams’. They’re almost exclusively surgery related, long thin lines down her torso and along her limbs where skin was peeled back to allow for cybernetic enhancements. They’re faint enough that it’s uncommon for anyone to notice them unless they’re in bed together, as her doctor does very subtle work.

3. Enhancements: Speaking of the reasons for the seams, though-- having partially grown up with Hemmel, Eden is fully stocked up on high tech enhancements. There’s very little of her body that remains completely untouched, and she does have a fondness for experimental tech which has led to mild short outs in the past. Every few months she returns to Hemmel for a check up and maybe an upgrade, so her list of capabilities is ever-changing.

Some of the things that she’s had for a very long time and will probably always keep, however, include: False eyes to allow for enhanced vision and a useful HUD, several stealth systems that range from masking body heat and vital signs to cloaking her entirely, enhanced hearing and sensors in her fingertips that allow her to collect very specific information, and a few types of ‘kill switches’ as she calls them that can either knock her out or kill her completely should the situation call for it (none of these are able to be activated by anyone but her and maybe Hemmel). None of her tech is dangerous to anyone but herself.

bonus. Give us a list of any length telling us why our “fave is problematic.”

i’m not convinced that she is !!

sure she steals a lot but is that really that bad?

maybe she’s accidentally broken a few hearts but that’s not rly her fault is it?

so what if she has just decided she’s friends with a good number of people without asking for their input??

who cares if her ship is a mess and she might not be able to fight to protect the ones she loves!!

#sidereal prompt 01 #2 #3 #4 #5 #prompt #musing

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