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foreverromanticising · 7 days ago

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for a long time - ln4

three: kingston - faye webster

lando norris x fem!oc with hints of charles leclerc x fem!oc, but not for long, he's just a flirt | 4.3k words | notes: as always, i recommend u listen to the song as u read and pls as always chat to me, comment, anything u want, im dying out here not knowing what anybody thinks | prev chapter.

Summer 2022 - Monaco.

It had been a long time coming; Phoebe finally going to Monaco. She had watched Lando from afar as he made the move over from England; she spent many hours on Facetime to the boy, helping him make lists of what he would need to fill his new apartment with, offering her advice on colour schemes and what houseplants he should have, where he should keep them around his home. Despite her words of advice, the apartment still looked like it was brand new.

The walls were white with the corners of the room stuffed with cardboard boxes, his kitchen gleamed like it hadn’t ever had a home cooked meal anywhere near it, and all he had to decorate his shelves with were champagne bottles and trophies.

And a framed photo of himself and Phoebe, of course.

They were young, with their smiles lighter and Lando’s hair shorter than the length he had grown to prefer. Her head rested upon his shoulder, eyes looking upwards at his face whilst he was focussed on the barrel of the camera. It was something new, something shiny, that Phoebe had saved up multiple months’ worth of wages for him when he finally signed that Formula One contract.

She knew he would soon have everything money could buy, really he already had everything he could ever want, but she wanted something that could be his. Something that could capture the memories he would make across the world, away from her, that they could look back on together. When they took the photo, he was only just learning how to use it, how to hold it comfortably, but that wouldn’t stop him.

They were sat on a patch of grass in one of the fields near their childhood homes, wrapped up in scarves and wooly hats for there was no stopping the bitter British cold in early January and their bodies pressed tight to each other, huddled for warmth.

Lando printed the photo and kept it in a frame for safekeeping, so he could take it with him on his travels. He hadn’t ever told Phoebe, he didn’t see the need to; he didn’t bring the photo when she joined him at races so it simply never came up between them. The photo frame had gone from country to country, residing on the bedside table of whatever hotel room he found himself in, and soon it found its home on the barren bookshelf in his Monegasque apartment.

“I see you really considered my decorating advice.” Phoebe hadn’t followed up on however Lando had decorated his apartment after the first few weeks of him living there, simply assuming he had silently listened to her words. However, one quick look around his living room when she stepped in the door was enough to tell her he had only nodded along to her words to keep her quiet.

“I’m too busy for all that.” Lando huffed as he settled down both of their suitcases by the front door, watching as Phoebe slotted in perfectly to his home as she glided throughout the room.

“I gave you so many lists to follow, made it so easy for you,” Her eyes wandered, taking in how plain the front room was. “Everything’s so white, I can’t believe it.”

“Thinking about all the colour’s stressed me out, I dunno what goes with what so I just left it,” He shrugged her words off for he hadn’t ever paid much attention to how simple his home was. “It doesn’t phase me, I’ll get ‘round to it one day.”

“I feel like I’m in a hospital.” She stopped moving around the room once she felt his hands graze around her back, fingertips slipping under the strap of the tote bag slung on her shoulder as he took it into his hands.

“Yeah, alright, you’ve mentioned.” Lando rolled his eyes in an attempt to be dramatic for he knew where Phoebe was coming from; she had spent hours trying to help him curate a comfortable, new home to live in and he hadn’t done much to listen to her besides buy the couch cushions that she had sent him the link for.

“You need some fairy lights.” Phoebe grinned as she spun around, taking in the open kitchen and the expansive windows. She could only imagine what the view would be like when the sun would set and the shimmering lights of the city would come to life.

He ignored her incessant comments about his apartment and instead tangled his fingers with hers, tugging her along behind him as he offered a whistle stop tour of his new home. The kitchen and the living room could have been taken out of a property magazine, advertising apartments in Monaco, for all Phoebe cared and alongside those rooms, Lando had his bedroom and two other spare rooms.

His bedroom was exactly as Phoebe had pictured it: plain. The same white theme that flowed throughout the rest of his home had seeped into his bedroom besides his black bedsheets. There were no posters or artwork decorating his walls unlike his childhood bedroom that she had grown accustomed to seeing. There wasn’t much else to his bedroom besides an absurd pile of clothes that stretched from wall to wall of his room, covering the wooden floorboards.

Lando hardly allowed any time in his bedroom, shutting the door and ushering Phoebe out of the room and into his gaming room instead. Being organised was never a big thing for Lando, he was tidy enough and that was all that mattered to him. He wasn’t home enough to care about the state of his bedroom but he wasn’t particularly proud of showing it to Phoebe. Sure, he could’ve tidied for her but he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“You clearly don’t have many girls around.” Phoebe hummed as her fingers danced over Lando’s keyboard in front of his streaming set up with her back to him, entirely unable to see how comically large his eyes bulged to after her words.

“Girls? Me- what’d you mean girls?” Lando sputtered out his words though he tried to maintain his composure without letting Phoebe see how shocked he had been over her question.

“The state of your room, Lan,” She laughed and spun around to face him, leaning back on his desk. “I can’t imagine many being pleased about being brought back to that.”

“I don’t bring back any girls, I dunno what you’re on about.” His words weren’t exactly a lie, not at all, he truly had never brought any girls back home to his apartment - rather, he was withholding the truth from Phoebe. He kept that side of his life private, away from her; he didn’t have any desire to have her knowing about his entirely fleeting flings with girls.

“Hm, that’s not what Charles told me,” She watched as he stepped closer to her, her breath hitching when he moved to stand between her legs with a gentle nudge of his own to make space for him.

“Yeah, they don’t come back here- security and all that shit, wouldn’t be smart.” Lando caught her eyes with his own, catching the curiosity brewing within her eyes for this was new territory for the pair. They would chat for hours on end about their dating lives, about random dates they had been asked on and regrettably went on, but he hadn’t ever dared to discuss any sort of hookups with her. The late nights spent with a girl he hardly new, tangled between sheets and bare limbs were nothing that Lando wanted to shout from the rooftops about. And if Phoebe never asked, he wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. “And why’re you discussing my sex life with Charles? Of all people? Please, could’ve just come to the source itself, I’m right here.”

“Well, Charles was just telling word spreads fast in Monaco,” She stood still whilst Lando moved in closer towards her body, with hardly an inch of space left between them though not one of them blinked an eyelid at the lack of space for this was their norm; they liked to be close. “It’s a small city, y’know, and you’re starting to become known as the local playboy.”

“What can I say? Ladies love me, I can’t help it.” He winked at her as he spoke, which simply resulted in a gentle shove to his shoulder to push him out of the way as she walked out of the room whilst he quickly turned on his heel to follow after her.

“Don’t be gross,” Phoebe scrunched her nose in disgust, opting out of hearing about her best friend’s sex life. “Show me where I’ll be staying, now we’ve covered you’ve got no girls coming ‘round here any time soon.”

His hand stretched around her body, opening up the door behind her to the guest room and guided her into the space. He waited in the doorway, watching as she took in the room around her, with a knowing smile on his lips. After a few quiet moments passed, Phoebe spun back around to face Lando with a grin stretching from ear to ear. In that moment, Lando was eternally grateful for technology and the app on his phone that allowed him to switch on the fairy lights before he had even entered the room for nothing could compare to the utter joy that radiated off of his girl.

“You put up fairy lights?” Phoebe could only hold Lando’s eye contact for a brief moment before she looked back to the fairy lights that twinkled across the ceiling of his guest bedroom, covering each inch of the ceiling as they hung from wall to wall.

“Figured you’d be spending a lot of time here, wanted to make you feel at home,” Despite his lack of decorating throughout the rest of his apartment, Lando had made a point of stringing fairy lights for Phoebe as his priority. After that, he had almost forgotten he had an entire apartment to decorate for that didn’t particularly matter to him anymore. “Monaco can be your little home away from home, if you want it to be.”

Wordlessly, Phoebe moved to wrap her arms around his body, knocking him back a step or two with the utter force their bodies collided at. Her arms wrapped around his waist as he snaked his arm behind her head, keeping her close to his chest. It was more than enough of a thank you for him.

“I’ll take it you like them, then, yeah?” He mumbled into her hairline, to which she simply nodded in response to. The sound of nothing but a gentle sniffle could be heard from her, muffled by Lando’s chest, but there nonetheless. “It’s just some fairy lights, Pheebs, I didn’t hang the stars in here.”

“These are better.” She looked up at him with teary eyes as he simply beamed a smile back down at her.

“C’mon, enough crying over some lights, we’ve spent too long in here,” He gently swiped his thumb below her waterline, dabbing away at the tears that rested there. “Let’s grab somethin’ for lunch, whatever you’re wanting.”

“Don’t do this.” Phoebe groaned as she thought of how picking their lunch would go, the same back-and-forth continuous bickering until they found somewhere. Although, Lando simply laughed and hauled her out of the front door, into one of his Mclarens, with the promise of good food and even better tour of the city than she could imagine.

Despite the brand new city, their routine felt as though they were back in England. They had driven around Monaco whilst the sun set behind them, casting an orange glow across the city that bounced off of buildings and cars alike. Lando had a plethora of Monegasque restaurants, nightclubs, patisseries, boutiques, and bars that he intended to show Phoebe, at some point. Throughout his time in Monaco, he had started a mental list of places that reminded him of Phoebe, that he planned to show her one day.

But, perhaps, their first day together in the city wasn’t the day for Lando to drive to the other side of the city for a bakery he had found hidden between the hills. He would find the time for that eventually but for now he popped into a pizzeria a few streets away from his apartment, leaving Phoebe sat in his Mclaren as she waited for him.

The boy driving flashy cars was nothing new, she would hardly bat an eyelid when he spun the car keys around his fingertips and let the car doors open upwards rather than outwards. She had come to associate the feeling of a car coming to life below her with Lando, the adrenaline that came with a car shooting through the backroads was a feeling Lando had given her. But she had never experienced this in Monaco; a city where everybody revelled in the same glitz and glamour so Lando’s cars where nothing new. But, Lando was something new to Monaco.

Maybe, he wasn’t new to the city, not exactly. He had lived there for a year, and had visited the city for years beyond that. But, he didn’t spend a lot of time in the city, instead he was constantly travelling or opting to fly back to England, so when he was spotted in the city - as Charles had stated - the word would spread fast.

At first, Phoebe hadn’t noticed the way people would stop to snap a quick photo of the car for it was only one person, then two, and then three. She offered a small smile to everyone who would stop and duck down to peer into the window to see just who was in Lando Norris’ passenger seat.

“Didn’t know you were so popular.” Phoebe noted once Lando climbed back into the driver’s seat and passed the two pizza boxes over to her lap with a cheeky grin on his face after he had worked his way through a small crowd to reach the car.

“Yeah, fuck, I didn’t even think about this.” Lando triple checked the street before pulling out into the road, fearing another fan would pop out of nowhere as he drove. He hadn’t thought twice about simply parking on the side of the road with Phoebe in the passenger seat, hadn’t thought twice about the conversations it would spark or the excitement that would buzz from people that walked by to notice the car was Lando’s, of all the people it could’ve been. “Sorry, I didn’t think people cared that much.”

“It’s alright, just funny ’s all.” She shook her head to rid Lando of his apologies and worries for it hadn’t bothered her all too much, not enough to bother worrying Lando over.

Usually, Lando would lean towards driving the long way home if he was with Phoebe but he wanted nothing more than to lock the door of his apartment and hole away with her beside him. He would be lying if he said he had obeyed every rule of the roads as he drove home; running through a stop sign if it was clear, and maybe just slipping gently over the speed limit as he drove.

It was worth it - his dance with reckless driving - to see Phoebe completely at home, at peace, in his home. A sight he had spent months in his empty flat dreaming of, picturing her beside him.

They sat on the floor of his living room, between his couch and coffee table, with their pizzas littered across the tables in front of them and a film that Lando had let Phoebe pick playing absentmindedly in the background. She was clad in one of his Quadrant hoodies and sweatshorts, content as she listened to him ramble on about some new game he was waiting to release, desperate to get his hands on it and play with Max.

Her phone pinged, once then twice and then a third time, which disturbed the peace Lando had so carefully crafted ever since he had locked his front door behind them. She let her eyes wander over to her phone screen, for what was meant to be a quick glance, but she couldn’t help look closer once she caught the text messages displayed on her screen.

Unknown number.

Hi Phoebe, Charles here.

I hope you don’t mind, I managed to find your number

Are you still up for that tour?

Phoebe.

i don’t mind at all, just wondering how you found my number

“Who’s that?” Lando spoke through a mouthful of pizza once he noticed how Phoebe’s attention had drifted.

“Oh, it’s just Charles.” She shrugged and turned her phone to face down on the table, though it kept pinging nonetheless so there was hardly a second that passed before she picked it back up again.

Charles.

I have my ways.

So, that tour?

Phoebe.

Sounds very fun! We’ll have to organise something soon

Charles.

Look outside your balcony, chérie.

“What’s he wanting?” Lando fought the urge to scoff upon hearing Charles’ name, his curiosity peaking.

“He’s outside apparently.” Phoebe whipped her head around to the balcony doors before walking over - perhaps running, but she wasn’t proud of that, of the excitement that coursed through her veins.

“‘Course he is.” Lando muttered as he got up to follow Phoebe outside, desperate to see what was about to happen.

True to his words, Charles was leant up against his Ferrari Daytona in the street below Lando’s apartment. He offered a wave of his fingers once Phoebe leaned over the railing to look down at him, his car still to be heard revving below him.

“That tour, huh?” Charles raised his voice so he could be heard from the few floors up that Phoebe and Lando stood, watching the grin on Phoebe’s face grow.

“Give me two minutes.” Phoebe shouted back down before she scurried off back into the guest room.

Her room mirrored Lando’s after those two minutes that she promised Charles, two minutes that were more similar to ten. She kept the same hoodie on but she swapped around different pairs of sweatpants and jeans, trying to grasp the correct atmosphere before ultimately deciding on jeans. She swiped a brush through her hair before tumbling back out of the room and into Lando as he stood outside the door, waiting on her.

“My colleague? C’mon.” Lando laughed as Phoebe shoved his shoulder to shut him up, though she knew he would have something to say at some point.

“Don’t say it like that.” She groaned as she peered out of one his windows, daring to sneak another glance at Charles without him noticing.

“Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” He spoke before she would slip out of the door away from him. There was nothing he could do to stop her, nor would he ever want to, but it didn’t mean he was pleased about the prospects of Charles and Phoebe. “ Y’know, don’t be daft.”

“Nothing to be daft about, he’s just taking me ‘round Monaco.” Though, Phoebe didn’t particularly need a tour around the city after the few hours she spent with Lando but she was in no position to decline Charles’ offer.

“Yeah, that’s what you think- he’s Charles.” Lando hovered at the front door, noting the quiet differences in Phoebe’s appearance as she had changed out of pyjamas in a quick few minutes.

“He’s not gonna shag me in his ferrari, Lando, please be serious.” Phoebe rolled her eyes and laughed as she knew what Lando was insinuating though he wouldn’t say it.

“You don’t know that.” He knew that she was right, and that he was simply be dramatic.

“I do.” She hummed and slipped behind him, though she stayed in the doorway for a moment in front of him, waiting to see if he had anything else to say - offering him a moment to redeem himself.

“Have fun, yeah?” His hand covered hers on the door handle, keeping her for another moment, before she nodded and was out of his eyesight in a second.

She tried to catch her train of thoughts in the elevator down to Charles, wondering how he had managed to come across her phone number and her exact location. But, she couldn’t deny the nerves that built in her stomach and threatened to rise as butterflies.

“Thought you were leaving me stranded here.” Charles spoke once Phoebe stepped out of the foyer doors of the apartment complex, still leaning against his car with a smirk on his lips.

“Well, I was pretty much ready for bed,” Phoebe stepped towards him as he leant down to open the passenger door for her, offering a hand to help her step into the car. “You don’t give much warning.”

“Figured you’d appreciate the surprise,” Charles rounded the car in a second before sliding into the driver’s seat beside her, though he took back his words when he caught the glare she sent his way. “Maybe not, but it’s fun, no?”

“Hm, I could say scary, or stalker-ish, maybe,” She relaxed in Charles’ passenger seat, her nerves almost bubbling away with how easily the conversation flowed with him - as though they had known each other for what was barely a few days. “Still don’t know how you ended up with my number.”

“Chérie, I told you I had my ways,” Charles let his eyes flicker over to Phoebe, noting the way her hands were wringing around one another in her lap. “It was Carlos, though, he’ll kill me if he finds out you know it was him.”

“Carlos doesn’t even have my number,” Phoebe watched as Charles seamlessly switched between the gears, moving to take her hand between his and resting it on her lap. “I should be worried.”

“But you’re not?” Charles ran his thumb along her hand, only reluctantly letting go of her hand when he had to use two hands to drive.

“No, I don’t think so.” She shook her head and felt his hand squeeze hers as he pulled the car into a parking space atop one of the hills in the city, a lookout spot over the city.

“It’s the best way to see the city, up here and away from everybody else,” He turned to look at her for he had seen the view more times than he could count. “You still think New York is better?”

“I’m biased, Charles, what can I say?” She tore her eyes away from the city to focus on him, green eyes twinkling against the lights. “I’m liking Monaco, but New York is special- it’s different.”

“What’s your favourite part of Monaco, so far?” Charles leaned closer to her, unable to help the way he drifted towards her as his hand moves to settle on her thigh, a warm and heavy touch against the material of her jeans.

“I like the people here.” She could feel her breath getting caught in her throat once she noticed how handsome Charles appeared to be when he was awfully close to her. His soft, green eyes peering through fluttering lashes to look at her; he spurred an emotion within her that she couldn’t quite describe, too nervous to name the feeling.

A smile tugged on his pretty face, a smile so gentle Phoebe could practically hear it radiating off of him. His hand moved from her thigh to slide over her cheek, holding her face close to his as she leaned into his firm grip. He leant closer to her, closing whatever was left of the gas between them, sealing her lips with his. He shifted in his seat, desperate to have her closer, as he truly kissed her blind. Her hands reached for something, anything to ground herself with, and she settled on the collar of his sweatshirt to pull him infinitely closer. Charles pulled away first, reluctantly so, and Phoebe catches him smiling and staring at her once again when she finally opened her eyes.

“You have a staring problem.” Phoebe muttered, her eyes diverting from his as she felt all of a sudden shy under his watch but she revelled in the feeling of his touch nonetheless as his hand rested upon her cheek, stroking along her cheekbone gently.

“Only when it comes to you, amour.” He tutted at her words, using his grip to tilt her head back up to face him before leaning forward to clumsily press his lips back against hers, struggling to do so efficiently as he fought a smile on his face.

It was a clash of teeth and over-confidence as his hands roamed down her body, greedy as they roved across her shoulders and neck. He pulls back again but stays close, his forehead resting against hers as their breaths mixed through parted lips and heaving breathing. She giggled, breathlessly, unable to fathom what had happened in the last hour all together.

“I should take you home before..” He kissed the corner of her mouth ardently before properly pulling away for a final time and switching the engine back on. “I want to take you out properly, a nice dinner and drinks, and maybe a walk along the marina, before anything else- yeah?”

“Sounds perfect, Charles.” She leaned across the console of the car once he started driving, a final kiss pressed to his cheek. She watched the blush rise on his cheeks as they drove away from the lookout, his hand in hers as a weight to pull her back down to earth and remind her she wasn’t trapped in a dream.

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koolkat9 · 9 months ago

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Rare Pair Week 2024 - Day 4

@hetalia-rarepairweek

Prompt: Secret Relationships || Love Songs and Letters

Rating: T

Pairing: Canmano (plus one line about Ameliet)

Word Count: 614

Read on AO3

Not so Needed Secret

He was probably just being silly. After all, Alfred was easygoing enough. And considering how he looked at Tolys, he wouldn’t find it weird that Matthew was eyeing his other houseworker. But Lovino asked for him to keep it under wraps for the time being.

It was late at night. Matthew was unpacking his things in Alfred’s guest room. He was visiting for the next two weeks like he did every other month. His packing was interrupted however by a knock at his door.

“Come in,” Matthew called, not stopping.

“Mateo?”

Matthew turned around to find Lovino in the doorway. A wide smile spread across Matthew's face.

“Do you um…need help unpacking?” Lovino asked, cheeks growing red, eyes drifting to the side.

“Did Alfred put you up to this?”

“No…”

Matthew beamed. “Then okay! Not that I have much left to do.”

Lovino shuffled into the room and began folding the leftover clothes and putting them into the dresser. “You should just leave enough clothes and such here, that way you can travel lighter” he muttered.

Matthew shrugged. “I don’t want to leave more laundry for you two.”

“It would only be washed after you came over.” Lovino’s cheeks reddened, eyeing off to the side again. “And for you…I-I wouldn’t mind it.”

Matthew suppressed a squeal, not wanting to scare Lovino off from being flirty. Instead, Matthew pulled him by the waist and spun him around until they were chest to chest. Well…not exactly given how tall Matthew was. He pressed a kiss to Lovino’s forehead.

“Mattie,” Lovino shrieked, “Alfred could walk in any minute.”

Matthew only laughed, shaking his head. “As if. It’s late and he’s–”

The door burst open, a loud voice ringing through the room. “Hey Mattie! I was just about to head to bed and wanted to check–”

Alfred stared at the two lovers wide-eyed and silent.

Lovino gripped onto Matthew, pressing closer to him. Matthew squeezed him tighter, eyeing Alfred, heart thumping between his ears.

Seconds seemed to stretch beyond time. Alfred with an unreadable look stared into their souls.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Alfred cheered, wrapping his arms around both of them. “Maaaattie, I thought we told each other everything?”

“Uh w-well I…” Matthew stammered.

“It was my request,” Lovino cut in. “I…I didn’t want you getting up in our business.”

“No fair,” Alfred whined. But he let them go. “Well, I’ll leave you two be. But don’t stay up too late. Especially you Lovi. You still need to cook breakfast tomorrow. And I want it to be extra good for my bro here.”

Alfred threw them both a wink and laughed as he exited.

Lovino was bright red when Matthew finally looked back at his lover. Matthew smirked, leaning down. “Well, it has been a while–”

He shoved Matthew’s face away. “You’re as bad as your brother,” he hissed.

“Awww come on! I was only teasing. I’m too wiped for something like that anyway.”

Lovino just grumbled to himself in Italian as he shoved the now empty suitcase into the closet.

“Do I still get cuddles?” Matthew pouted, coming up behind Lovino and wrapping his arms around his waist.

“I don’t know if you deserve it,” Lovino huffed.

“Please.”

Lovino bit his lip, closing his eyes. He would not fall for the puppy-eye card that Matthew surely just pulled. Matthew pulled him closer, so close he could feel breath on his neck. Soft but cool lips left a trail of kisses. It felt nice against his flushed skin.

“Fine,” Lovino finally sighed. “You’re lucky I’ve missed you.”

He turned around and pulled Matthew down by the collar, pressing their lips together in a proper kiss.

#hetalia #hws #hws canada #hws romano #hws america #canmano #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #my writing #hetalia rarepairweek #rarepair week 2024

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simmerdowndee · 11 months ago

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windenburg years episode six: the baby shower

Theo is helping me pack for the baby shower. This is the first time I’ll be away from him since we got back together. It’s only for a few days, but it feels weird not traveling with him.

Dakota: Theo, it won’t shut.

Theo: Here, try moving this.

Dakota: Why is this so damn complicated.

Theo: Probably because you pack like you’re going to be gone for a month and not 3 days…

Dakota: I packed lighter than normal this time…

Theo: You have enough outfits in here to supply a runway babe.

Dakota: Fine, I’ll take some out.

After about 15 mins of picking and choosing what to leave behind, I can finally close my suitcase.

Dakota: UGH, its shut.

Theo: -

Dakota: Babe?

Theo: Huh? Oh, you’re done. I thought I’d play my game while I wait for you.

Dakota: It wasn’t that long.

Theo: I’ve been able to complete 7 levels….

Dakota: Whatever, help me get it against the wall.

Theo grabs my suitcase while I look around to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

Dakota: Babe, this is the first time we’ve been apart since we got back together.

Dakota: Ugh, I didn’t wanna go without you.

Theo: Its three days….

Dakota: Are you going to miss me?! What are you going to do for three days without me….?

Theo: (Mumbles) have peace….

Dakota: What? I didn’t hear you.

Theo: Yes, I will miss you babe.

Dakota: You better.

Theo: I am going to spend most of the time working and getting stuff done around the house.

Dakota: We have to facetime every night before bed.

Theo: Of course.

Theo: Baby, you will be fine for the weekend. Have fun back home with your family for a while.

Dakota: You’re my family too…

Theo: I will be right here waiting for you to get back.

I leave in the morning, so I should spend as much time with Theo before I go to bed. I am excited to see my mom and dad back home

#my sims #sims 4 #simblr #the sims 4 #the sims #thesims4 #simblog #ts4 simblr #sims 4 gameplay #windenburgyears

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cozycheeto · 5 months ago

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Saved in drafts

Ima quickly scribble & spill. I’ll come back to this and hash it out later:

- Japan is on a whole other level of respect & efficiency & cleanliness.

- traveling always always opens up my mindset and reminds me I live in a bubble

- kindness and connection is supreme

- traveling with my mom as I get older reminds me that she is is also older so POVs are definitely a lot different. it’s bittersweet ❤️

- food here is incredible and also relatively cheap. we had a fancy omakase dinner that literally I could do every week since it was cost friendly

- Japan has made me wanna try different looks and outfits but still cozy

- I love my boyfriend. And can’t wait to travel with him. This trip with my mom I took care of most things and felt like I was the caretaker so I can’t wait until i have someone who can help me and I can turn off my brain

- walking and eating good, healthy meals is so easy to find here. I swear I would be so much lighter and be more in my element here

- the transit here is soooo easy to do like also cost effective to get around

- I bought an insane amount of gifts that I can’t wait to give away to my fam & friends hehehoho

- baths every night with Himalayan salt and scrubbing my body with their wash towel is a game changer

- At stores when you try on clothes, don’t wear your shoes in the changing rooms!

- random but I actually feel better in my skin here. no false lashes or heavy contour. and I took this heart but a worker told me she liked my eyes on a day I didn’t wear any makeup. really makes me think I should try not as strong makeup looks and enhance certain features

- a week is not long enough for a Japan trip maybe for Tokyo but I def would extend to 2 weeks and go to Kyoto and places not in the city

- you honestly don’t need to bring much if you’re traveling to Japan. they have all the things you can buy here. Just bring small amount of clothes and under garments but fill your suitcase with goodies to bring home

- If you buy tax-free goodies, you can’t open the bag until you get home so be mindful of that when shopping

- Technology and updates are happening fast here. Before you go, check out as many product reviews of whatever you’re into so like beauty, skincare, tech, or anything like hygiene, ceramics, ANYTHING!

- Download translator app, Google maps, suica app to use the train and currency exchange app

- Don’t assume people speak English. Learn some common Japanese phrases !!! I’d rather be embarrassed and try than assuming locals know what I’m saying. And if all else fails, just use the translator app or hand gestures. Lots of sumimasen and gomennasai and arigatou gozaimasu.

#journal #loveyours #gratitude log #godisgood #travel diaries

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fingfamily-blog-blog · 2 years ago

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Finished with Classes

It's Monday morning, May 15th. I finished my school work over the weekend, and now time is all I have. They only gave me one class this semester, so I took in final papers on the last day, and read them casually over the course of three days. Then entered the grades on an excel sheet, and sent it off to my closest colleague, Ibu Yusnita. While we have been mostly separate this semester (whereas I was her shadow last semester) we're getting along as well as ever. Perhaps she can see the end as I can, and it pleases her as much as it pleases me. I took pictures with my essay writing class. I gave some of them departing gifts - books which I didn't want to bring back to America. They were appreciative, and it was hard, as always, to say good bye. But I just push on through. I'm not making promises to them or anything. And the chances of any of them coming to America are essentially nil, so there's no pretending in that regard. You just have to accept that it's goodbye forever. I do have some minor school things, like an essay writing contest to judge. And there's likely to be a dinner or two to say farewell to all those colleagues who kept me at arm's length for the whole year. As with much else, I'm ambivalent about having a farewell dinner, but one must keep up appearances. And if I can have a smaller dinner with Ibu Renzi and Ibu Yusnita, that will be nice. Still, none of these relationships will continue. This year has been a professional dead end. But, as mentioned in previous posts, the personal side has been far more positive. The travel has bolstered me immensely, and in the next 69 days, I will spend 49 of them on the road, living out of a suitcase. This will create its own issues, mainly with maintaining exercise and diet, but I am so looking forward to this flurry of travel. First I'll visit the eastern-most part of Java, Jember, Ijen and Banyuwangi. Then 9 days in Lombok, scuba-diving and hiking a bit too. Then my last days in Malang, followed by a week in Bali (yeah!!!), just over a week in Melbourne, Australia (where my younger son will be stationed for the next year), and then two weeks in Seoul, and South Korea (where I'll meet my wife before we return to Maryland). Such a schedule is rare in anyone's life. It will be especially nice to share the last weeks with my people. I'm not used to being alone, but I'm not sorry that it's been that way this year. I can be alone if I have to be. I also seem to have been hired again by the University of Maryland. That is some relief, knowing that I have income and insurance again. I anticipate also applying for a work in Seoul, aiming at this point for April of 2024, but that's not guaranteed. Maybe it'll be great being home and I'll just settle in there, find myself a rock and roll band, and carry on in domestic bliss. Recreational marijuana will be legal when I return! In the meantime, I have details to attend to in preparation for departure. I've already started packing. I'm going to ship some things home, so I can have a lighter suitcase, fillable with more gifts and clothes etc. Slow and steady, and someday this will all be over.

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interstellargatorskinboots1812 · 4 years ago

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Tapped Into Your Mind & Soul Chapter 5

WARNINGS: It’s an Alfie fic, so obviously SWEARING.

As always, i am a complete comment whore so PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE drop me a line to let me know what you think of the story so far.

All Things are Subject to Decay and Change

Alfie's red Bentley barges it's way through London- a city of vibrant smog which is helping Arabella feel at ease. There is plenty of beauty to her in the soot-hazed stone of the passing buildings and even the Londoners who hunch by with sour faces and their misery reflected in the colour of the sky.

She is glad of the car's padded seats which absorb each of his sharp turns and brutal stops.

'It's like a circus round here', she comments with optimism, pushing her head further out of the window. Miles upon miles littered with curiosities - street artists providing depictions of escape on the cold pavement, costermongers shouting their trade and yards of train advertisements pasted onto lampposts in every colour. Alluring as the sound of jazz and the sight of the Charleston might be, London shrouds itself in so much more potential for her than flappers and frivolity. His irked voice snaps her from her thoughts.

'It's fuckin' 'orrible, too many animals in this circus'.

His knuckles are white from his grip on the wheel, intense focus directed to the trams and wagons weaving ahead of them. The car agitates over the metal tramlines, as a brown Hovis truck cuts in front of the car, coercing Alfie to slam on the breaks.

'Oh fucking hell!'. His tone is booming as he reaches into his pocket , pulling out a pistol to aim at the offending driver. Arabella's mouth slowly drops open, capturing his arm and pulling the gun under the dashboard, obscuring it from view. With narrow eyes she quickly looks around to scan the area.

'Have you lost your mind, Alfie?'

'Treacle, these idiots, they only understand one language.'

'Well, lets not have you arrested on my first night in London, eh?'

A small grunt emits from his throat. He yanks his hand easily from her grip and stashes his gun back into his coat pocket.

'Suit yourself,' he grumbles. The car has been overtook now on more than one occasion, another headache to add to his list. Still, best not to piss her off on her first night and so he turns his eyes back to the road ahead and daydreams of shooting the bollocks off the Hovis driver.

Twisting an unstrung strand of hair repetitively around her finger, she can't help but think about where they are going. It's going to be her new home for the foreseeable future and given the volatile looking environment of his work place, Arabella isn't holding out hope.

Moments later, the noise level begins to filter away as if they have turned down a road that is miles from any civilisation. Thriving with colourful flora within well tended gardens, regency era town houses stand majestically at three stories and with the fanciest of facades. A short and stoutly older woman canters down the pavement, before turning right into one of the houses and desperately trying to manipulate two heavy shopping bags in order to open her gate. Alfie slows the car down to a stop and beeps his horn, making the poor woman almost jump to the moon, she briskly turns around.

'Oh, vey Alfie! Are you trying to bring me closer to God?' Alfie opens the car door and takes the bags from her hands, opening her cast iron gate with ease.

'What did I tell you Mrs Goldman, mhm? No lifting and carrying these heavy bags, eh? Ishmael can take you to the market and bring you back.'

'Ah Alfie that poor lad does everything, I don't need him helping me as well. I ask God not for a lighter burden but for broader shoulders'. She simpers at him with a twinkle behind her brown eyes that Arabella did not observe before the lady spoke with Alfie.

'Worryin' about you yeh, will be the death of me! Now, tell me that landlord of yours 'as sorted that broken light fixture?'

'He's getting round to it'.

'So, that'll be a no then?' Alfie furrows his brow, making it crease with line after line and tilts his head to the side. 'You need me to have a word with him?'

Mrs Goldman chuckles earnestly before pinching his cheek between her thumb and forefinger.

'Don't be a Schmuck Alfie, the last time you did that my rent went up to pay for his hospital bill. Now, who is this beauty you're sharing your car with hmm?'' Looking around Alfie's broad shoulders, her gaze falls on Arabella who feels rather sheepish under her matriarch stare. Sighing, he pinches the tension from the bridge of his nose. The last thing he needs is for Mrs Goldman to start shooting her mouth off at her knitting circle and have the whole of the Jewish community gossiping before he has had time to formulate how he can position Arabella into his life.

'It should be fuckin' noted right, that nothing gets past you'.

Catching Alfie unawares, she uses her now free hand to provide a sharp whack to the back of his head, making his eyes scrunch. Arabella's eyebrows curve upwards as she swallows down the urge to laugh.

'This is Arabella Shelby, the sister of one of my close business associates. She's going to be staying with me until she gets settled in London'.

So, that's how he plans to play this. Arabella exits the car.

'Nice to meet you Mrs. . . erm...'

'Goldman, dear'. She shakes Arabella's hand, her light touch and weak grip showing just how delicate she is. Alfie was right, she shouldn't have been carrying those bags.

'Please accept my apologies for Mr Solomons lack of manners, I assure you dear, he does possess them somewhere'. She sends her a wink.

'I'll let you know when the search party I've sent out, actually find them.'

This tickles the grey haired lady who stomps her foot letting out a huge guffaw and patting Arabella on the arm.

'I like her Alfie, she is sharp of tongue as well as looks'. She flashes him a knowing smile, one that makes him shift from foot to foot. Much as he likes Mrs Goldman, he can muster no interest in her insinuating words.

'Right, well as much as I'd like to stand here as if i'm fuckin' not and be insulted, we have to get going. Miss Shelby here 'as 'ad a rather eventful day so, goodbye Mrs Goldman'.

She throws a harried glance at Alfie before returning a polite smile at Arabella.

'Now my dear, just you remember that I am but five doors down and that makes us neighbours. Should this Mazik get to you, just pop on to my door and i'll make sure you're always greeted with a cup of tea and a listening ear.'

Alfie knew that her words served only to aggravate him. He places a hand on Arabella's arm to lead her back to the car and curses his poor decision making for stopping here in the first place.

'Lovely to meet you Mrs Goldman, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of one another'. Alfie's gentle push to the car, turns into a shove.

'I'm sure we will my dear, and it's Nelly to you.'

Alfie watches to make sure Mrs Goldman enters her house safely.

'Sister of a close business associate? Dread to think how you'll introduce me to people when I'm your wife.'

'Arabella, that woman has a mouth wider than the Thames, best to give her as little detail as possible and save her choking on gossip'.

Crossing her arm over her waist and tucking it in at her elbow, she turns toward her window. With a roll of his eyes, he starts up the car. They don't have to travel far before the vehicle is once again stationary. Straightening up in her seat, she observes the building in front of her. All of the houses on the street were identical in their architecture, stressed in uniformity – this one however, was built with a desire for individuality.

'There ya go, look. Home, sweet-fucking-home'. He walks around the car to help her out. She is mesmerised by the grand blossom tree that pushes the house into almost obscurity due to it's size, looming over the black front door. Pale pink pieces that have been wooed from the tree by the spring winds, gather under her feet, a reminder of life's fickleness. Concealing herself behind Alfie, her cautious spirit holds an inner negotiation with her resilience as they walk up a black and white tiled pathway. Inside the warmth of the house engulfs them both along with a nauseating charcoal smell. Her foot suddenly slides on something slippy on the marble floor. Bending down she picks up a folded piece of paper that is lay in the doorway. Alfie's name is written on it in the scrawled handwriting.

'Alright now, let's have a look and see if your suitcase has been dropped off... what's that?'

'You tell me, it's got your name on it.'

The blithe and animated Alfie Solomons she is getting to know is barely recognisable now as an ashen and turbulent man stands across from her, a wrathful look in his blue-green eyes. Frantically he grapples the paper from her hands and faces away from her to peek at the contents.

'Must be something awfully important'. She says, standing on tiptoes to see over his shoulders. The note buckles into pieces as he folds it in his fist, harshly.

'Who's asking you?' his quick-tempered reply takes her by surprise and she narrows her eyes at him, making him clear his throat.

'It's a betting tip if you must know. As an occasional bookmaker, I do need to keep a sharp eye out for the fastest horses'.

He stashes the note into his deep pocket. They both stand facing one another, Alfie towering over her by a good few inches. Neither of them speaking, just eyes setting fire to the other pair. The door at the end of the hall bursts open and commotion on four paws comes bounding excitedly towards his owner.

'Oh, 'ere he is look, the behemoth with a wagging tale. Ello mate, did you miss me?' Placing his hand onto his right hip, Alfie slowly bends down to fuss and stroke the solid bulk of his bull mastiff.

His incensed constitution replaced with playful humour by his four-legged friend. As if sensing the presence of a stranger, his dog bolts into an alert position and begins to bark anxiously and warningly at Arabella. Alfie prepares himself to calm down his probably panicked fiancé. He's not expecting the hand that comes to his elbow, pushing him aside as she crouches in front of the slobbering beast, offering her hand to smell.

'Hello, you. I've heard so much about you, don't you know?' She strokes her hand roughly over the top of the dog's head, which he immediately cocks and begins to excitedly wag his tail. 'See, your gruff and tough owner here is a huge softy when it comes to you, he doesn't shut up about you'. Alfie watches on as she undauntedly makes a fuss, not caring about the amount of froth being drooled onto what looks like an expensive, if not gaudy, coat.

'Well, his name is Cyril and he's supposed to be an all powerful and protective breed, but I will acknowledge that it appears I was fuckin' lied to about that'. He crinkles his forehead as he watches Cyril gracelessly roll onto his back so Arabella can rub at his belly.

'Well I think he's just perfect., i'm sure we'll get on like a house on fire.

'Let's see if you're still saying that when he's all over you at five in the morning because he wants to go out for a piss'.

Arabella looks up at him and shakes her head. 'I can see Cyril here holds all the power in this house'.

'Oh yeh? An how do you work that out?'

She pushes herself up to standing and offers him a condescending smile. 'Because Alfie, power lies in loyalty and I can see how dyed-in-the-wool you are with him'.

'That so? Well, lets see where my loyalty gets him tomorrow when Edna sees these muddy paw prints on her mopped floor'.

'Edna?'

He scratches Cyril behind his ears as he steps closer to her.

'My maid. Lovely woman she is, reminds me of me Mother. You'll meet her tomorrow. Now, do you wanna see your new home?'

****************************************

Arabella piano-plays her fingertips on the dark walnut dressing table, listening to the rain outside as it pelts the windows and drips from the alien roof. She could float half way to heaven as she kicks off her slippers and the plush carpet hugs at her swollen feet. Alfie has spent some of the evening showing her around his impressive home. A big house, one she dreamed of owning as a child with it's polished wooden floors and graceful bannisters. Nothing like her Small Heath dwellings. Is it possible she is beginning to get homesick for a place she isn't even sure exists? One with love and where her soul is understood. However, when he had shown her the fully plumbed copper bath tub, she was ready to say 'i- do' post haste.

Alfie is steadfast becoming a curious paradox – his abode is a beautiful palace, gleaming with a spotless silence. It's king, all the same is harsh and unpredictable with a flare of intelligence and good looks. Although she is hasten to admit it, he intrigues her.

Until Tommy sorts the delivery of the rest of her things, all of her is compacted into the small suitcase that she pulls from the bed to put away She puts on her nightie, a soft cream silk slip – although well worn, still immaculate. After an argument with Alfie regarding sleeping arrangements, they finally agreed that they should be adult enough to share a bed to make their relationship more realistic to his house staff. Standing in front of the floor length, mirror she watches as his mother's locket swings off her neck like a stranger. She pats the soft garment over her stomach - full from a delicious stew his maid had prepared, which she enjoyed alone. Alfie has secreted himself in his downstairs office and she has not seen sight nor sound of him all night..

The sound of smashing glass makes her jump, she can hear the thundering voice of Alfie barking out words she can't make out. Whatever the furore is, it's emanating from the upstairs landing. She quickly steps out of the room and sees the bathroom door ajar. Inside Alfie is desperately trying to wrestle Cyril inside a large fluffy towel. The floor around him is immersed in water and Alfie's shirt is saturated.

'Cyril, keep-the-fuck-still'. His fractious tone echoes off the bathroom tiles as he battles against his dog.

'Alfie, do you need some help?'

'No we've got this under control, ain't we boy'. As Cyril succumbs to submission, allowing his master to begin to towel dry his fur, Alfie looks up to acknowledge Arabella, his eyes immediately give her a once over and he feels the inside of his throat dry up as he spots her legs. Cyril takes advantage of his master's distraction and bounds his way out of the towel, bouncing his head off the copper bath in the process, before galloping his way to Arabella.

'Cyril! Ya daft, mad cunt! Get back 'ere now!' Taking not a ounce of notice, Cyril jumps frenziedly onto Arabella, wet paws pushing away at her.

'Get off 'er now ya demented lad! CYRIL! Fuck sake!'

Uncontrollable barks bite their way back at Alfie who is now tugging at his dog's paws, trying to gain purchase to pull him off her, flattened and trapped as she is against the wall.

'Fuckin' hell Cyril, what are you playing at, get off. . . stop trying to wrestle . . .CYRIL! I'm warning y. . . '

'SIT!' Her voice is loud and stern as she points to the floor with a free hand. Cyril obeys and sits down, Arabella following him to the ground, untwisting the towel from around Alfie's fisted hands and slowly patting down Cyril's blubbery body. The dog sits calmly, with his head held up majestically as if he is content in being obedient for her.

'Right fuckin' turncoat ya are Cyril. Get one whiff of a woman and you forget about me, eh?' He folds his arms and leans against the door frame, watching as Arabella softly finishes drying.

'It's all in the tone, Alfie. You have to be stern not erratic'. She stands up smugly in front of him.

'S'at so?' He looks her up and down once more, only this time he notices just how wet Cyril has made her and he swallows hard. The light fabric of her night dress is now translucent and he can make out the shape of her ample breasts and the enticing colouring of her nipples. The quick glance he gets before looking away is like a blow to his chest. Her body is certainly holding his interest but he knows he can't take any more of her in. He does not want to look at all, but this was unavoidable.

Clearing his throat and picking up the towel from Cyril, he gestures to her chest.

'You might need this, to erm cover . . . ' She looks down and immediately covers her chest with her arms, taking the towel from him to dry off.

'I'm sorry about Cyril, he can be a right lunatic when he wants to be.'

'They're just tits, Alfie', she says as she notices how he has turned his body away from her.

'No, they're not just tits- they're yours and it's not up to my maniacal dog to expose them because he can't keep bloody still'. He moves past her into the bedroom and reappearing a few seconds later.

'You can wear this if you like, whilst you dry that off. I promise it's clean'. He hands her one of his white shirts which she gladly accepts.

'You're nothing like I thought you would be, Alfie'.

'Yeh?' He moves closer to her. 'That's because, right, true power lies in the unexpected'. They both stare at the other, as if taking notes, before he breaks the chain and walks away toward the staircase.

'Cyril, come on', he pats his leg and Cyril follows, leaving her flustered on the landing. Was it possible that Solomons possessed a more human side that contradicts his reputation? She turns away from the stairs and hurries into the bathroom to change. Closing the door, she notices Alfie's black wool coat hanging from the hook. The coat he placed his secretive letter in earlier. An uneasy feeling washes over her, she always respects privacy, to her far too many people can't live in silence for fear of missing applause from an audience who don't even care. She has to see what has him so vexed though - if she wants to be ahead of him and her brother then she has to do some necessary digging. Before she can talk herself out of it, she plunges her hand into his pocket and pulls out the piece of paper. As she turns it over she can see that this is not the same note. This is a pink betting slip- after further rummaging, she realises he has moved the note elsewhere.

'Fuck' she says, annoyed. One final glance and she sees what looks like a phone number on the back.. She leaves the bathroom in a hurry, her hand concealing the slip.

TAG LIST: @clintbartoris @gameofpot @doomwhathouwilt @lokigirlszendaya @inkinterrupted @misselsbells06 @sunshineyourethebesttime

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theimpossiblescheme · 4 years ago

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30 for Fujiko?

There was a room off the Atlantis Club in Tokyo that not a single window could see into--only a tiny vent that filtered in the noise from the main floor. Usually it was reserved for shady underworld dealings and the occasional drunken hookup once the blood had been mopped away. But just as often it was a hiding place for people who couldn’t bear to be seen by anyone.

Fujiko went there to disappear more than she cared to admit. Sometimes it was after a heist went to hell. Sometimes she’d just gotten into a fight so bitter she needed a few weeks to lick her wounds and regain her voice. Sometimes she just felt... wrong, like her own skin had grown sticky and heavy and all she wanted to do was peel it off inch by bloody inch. On those days, she would drop a blank check on the bar, slip through a discreet side door and jam it shut behind her so no one could follow, and curl up in one of the chairs, pulling her coat over herself like a blanket. She would stay like that for days on end, barely touching her suitcase--Fujiko didn’t usually travel light, but she’d only had the presence of mind to throw together a few things before just going. All she had the energy to do was listen to the muffled music from the bandstand outside and try not to dwell on anything else.

Signore Baroni had been cleverer than she gave him credit for. Her latest mark must have been tailing Zenigata, he saw through her innocent disguise so quickly. He was also a lot rougher than she’d expected... so many bruises on her back, and she hadn’t even gotten a single diamond out of it. Fujiko slept on her side for a week and a half afterward, even after rolling onto the floor and remembering the airplane pillow and blanket she’d packed. But at least here, she knew she could sleep soundly for a while, with the anonymity that even the nicest hotel didn’t offer. Hotels still required a name and face, and right now Fujiko didn’t want either. Here in the dark, amidst the chaos of the city nightlife, nobody asked questions. The only human interaction she had was through late-night notes from the hostess attached to bottles of wine or boxes of leftover food from the kitchens, two-word missives in curly handwriting on a piece of cardstock: “They’re gone.” Telling her it was safe to use the phone or the restroom or even to just stretch her legs. Nobody would see her.

They were a small comfort to her, silly as it sounded. She never kept the cards, but she had the handwriting practically memorized. And just down the hallway, the bandstand’s moody jazz was as good as a lullaby when her eyelids grew too heavy.

When the fog had cleared, her wounds healed and her mind sharp once again, Fujiko would throw away every bottle and box and erase every trace of her presence before venturing out to freshen up. The last thing out of her suitcase was always a new set of clothes--something she hadn’t worn in quite some time--and a new hair dye kit. The Fujiko Mine that stepped out of that restroom was a brand new creature, free of old burdens, completely separate from the tired old thing that had first slumped through the doors. And as she emerged, there was a new spring in her step and ring in her voice, every dull edge sharpened and dangerous once again.

Baroni had a thing for cute blondes, so her hair was a dark blood red this time, and the demure curls were straightened until they lay sleek and shiny across her back. Already feeling lighter without so much mousse and hairspray, Fujiko practically glided up to the bar, setting her suitcase down beside her and rapping her knuckles around the side. “Just a mojito--nothing too fancy.”

The barkeep nodded and went to work; doors didn’t open for another hour, so he had no one else to wait on. By then, Fujiko would be gone, but it felt rude not to give some kind of goodbye. Entering from a nearby back office door, Ginko Hoshikage--club hostess and partner in crime going back many years--took the seat beside her, the smoke from her long cigarette trailing delicately after her. She’d also changed her hair, going from seafoam green to an almost periwinkle shade. “Already tired of wine, are we?” she asked with a smile.

Fujiko shrugged. “I just figured I needed something a bit lighter. Besides, I need to leave something in your cellars after almost two weeks, don’t I?”

“Oh, believe me, you barely left a dent.” Drawing an envelope out of one pocket, Ginko passed it over to Fujiko. “This came for you this morning, by the way.”

She barely had to look at it to know who it was from--she’d shut off her phone for a while, but handwritten letters were always more romantic. Sure enough, there was a summons from Lupin, his own handwriting an excited scrawl as he waxed poetic about a recently discovered Goya piece being displayed in the Prado in Madrid. Why not? Madrid was lovely this time of year, and a new Goya piece might sell for a tidy billion if she played her cards right. Poor Lupin... she’d still be able to make it worth his while. Much as she’d never say it out loud, she really had missed him.

“So I suppose you’ll be leaving us after all?” Ginko’s manner was nonchalant, but she still eyed her old partner closely as the barkeep arrived with their respective drinks.

“Mmm... maybe I’ll stay and finish up here first.” Playfully tipping the rim of Ginko’s rose spritz towards her, Fujiko grinned--actually grinned, and it came so naturally after two weeks’ isolation, she could have cried with relief--when Ginko pulled her glass away and swatted at her hand. An old friend’s cheerful scolding in her ear, a lover’s letter in her hand, a splash of sake washing away the cobwebs... and from the unobstructed window across the room, the sun warming her back, all pain forgotten.

The world was making sense again.

#asked and answered #the-golden-ghost #lupin iii #Ginko is such a cool character even if she only showed up once (twice if you count a blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameo in Part 5)#and I wanted to include her as one of the souls Fujiko gravitates towards. :)

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you-can-call-me-wanda · 5 years ago

Text

Saying Goodbye

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x Reader (Requested)

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy! This is my first ever Guns N Roses imagine!

“Hey (Y/N), you coming to the party?”

You looked up from what you were doing to meet the gaze of your coworker, Chase. He stood across from you, wrapping up cables and sorting them before putting them away. He looked at you expectantly.

“Is there a party tonight?” you asked him. As a roadie, you weren’t commonly invited to parties. Sure, the road crew hung out after shows quite often, but those weren’t official hang outs really.

Chase chuckled. “Yeah, everyone’s headed over to some bar after we finish packing up the gear,” he said.

“Who’s everyone?” you asked.

“Everyone,” Chase said. He looked around and lowered his voice dramatically. “I think even Axl is gonna be there.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, thinking about whether you felt up to go out tonight. The party sounded intriguing, but you still had quite a bit of work to do before you’d be able to leave. It was rare that the members of Guns N Roses would be attending the same “party” as the rest of the crew. They were rising to fame, you were not. However, it wasn’t like you knew any of them very well, so it really didn’t matter too much that they were going to be joining everybody at the bar. Not to mention the fact that you were pretty shy and large social gatherings intimidated you greatly.

“I think I’ll probably just skip it,” you decided after thinking it through. “I’m pretty beat from the past couple of shows.” Guns N Roses had just played three nights in a row and you were tired from the constant rigging and unrigging of lights.

“Aw,” Chase said with a frown. “Well, if you change your mind, feel free to find me.” He finished packing up his box of cables and made his way down the hall, presumably to the buses outside.

You just sighed as you continued to work at dismantling some stupid light for travel.

You found yourself meandering through the hotel after you finally finished up your work for the night. It seemed like everyone else had gone over to the bar already, so you were on your own for the night though you didn’t mind too much. You figured you’d head outside for a breath of fresh air and maybe a quick smoke before going to bed early.

As you made your way through the lobby though, you quite literally bumped into someone.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you said, gasping as your body collided with another. You looked up and were slightly mortified to see none other than Izzy Stradlin standing in front of you.

“It’s okay,” he said, giving you an awkward smile. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“Neither was I,” you confessed, returning the smile.

You both stood there for an uncomfortable moment filled with silence.

“Um, your name’s (Y/N), right?” Izzy asked, reaching up to scratch the back of his head.

“Yeah,” you answered, surprised that he knew who you were. “And you’re Izzy,” you added, kicking yourself after saying so. Obviously, he was Izzy. He was part of Guns N Roses for fucks sake!

Izzy laughed a little at that. “Yeah. You’re not out with the rest of the crew tonight?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Nah,” you replied. “Not really my scene.”

“Me neither,” Izzy surprised you by saying. “I’m not a huge party kind of guy.”

“Really?” you couldn’t help but ask. You had assumed Izzy went out with the band all the time.

He shrugged. “It’s not so fun when everyone knows who you are.”

“Oh,” you answered, not really sure what to say. “Well, I’m just going out for a smoke,” you said, beginning to move past him.

“You mind if I join you?” he asked. Truth be told, he had just come back inside from a smoke outside, but you didn’t need to know that. He found you interesting and wanted to stay in your company for a little bit longer.

You surprised yourself by nodding. “Okay,” you said.

The two of you made your way outside and to the side of the hotel building. There, you stood, leaned against the brick wall. Izzy lit yours and his cigarette with his lighter and the two of you smoked together in the quiet darkness.

After some time had passed and both of your cigarettes were down to the filter, Izzy spoke again.

“This is nice,” he mumbled, stamping out the cigarette but on the pavement. “It’s nice to have some quiet, y’know?”

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah, don’t get too much of that on this tour,” you said.

“Tell me about it,” Izzy responded. “I think you and I are the only people who know how to stop talking.”

You blushed slightly at his comment. This was your first time ever talking to Izzy and he was already grouping you and him together as the quiet ones.

“Well,” you said, gathering up some courage, “if you ever need some quiet company, just come and find me.”

That’s exactly what Izzy did.

In the following weeks, you and Izzy became fast friends. He would find you during the day, setting up for the show, and promptly drag you away from your work to go grab lunch with him. After his concerts, you would rush to finish packing up so you could go back to the tour bus or the hotel and find Izzy.

You and he were often left to do your own thing. So, while the rest of the band or crew would go clubbing or bar hopping, you and Izzy would go sightseeing or out for a meal. The tour took you all across the United States and the two of you spent your shared free time exploring all the new sights and attractions each city brought.

Of course, your favorite part of all this was getting to spend time with Izzy. He was quickly becoming one of your best friends and sometimes you would even catch yourself thinking of him as something more.

The feelings were requited. Izzy felt like he had found his other half in you. Someone who was more laidback and quieter like him, but also someone he felt he could talk to for hours on end.

The North American leg of the tour was quickly drawing to an end though and both of you were nervous for what the future had in store for your relationship. While you would like nothing more than to continue travelling with Guns N Roses as part of their crew, your contract would be ending with this part of the tour. You would be headed back home to your normal life and Izzy would be going to Europe.

Being a roadie had been a bit of a last-minute decision. You’d been in need for a paycheck and a friend of yours had known a guy who was able to get you this gig. It was kind of amazing actually that you were able to be part of such a big tour, but they had been pretty desperate for another set of hands that could start right away so you were hired. In your mind, this had always been a temporary position. You always knew you would return home and work towards finding a career that was more stable and didn’t take you so far from home for so long.

Izzy knew of your plans too. You had told him weeks ago, but knowing you were going to be leaving him ahead of time did nothing to ease the pain of knowing that he would be without you once again.

So, neither of you said anything about your feelings and instead chose to pretend like the end wasn’t coming.

It was at the airport where everything finally came out.

You weren’t even needed there but Izzy had insisted you come with him for a last goodbye. During the drive over, he slipped his hand into yours and gave it a tight squeeze. No words needed to be spoken for you to understand what he was trying to say. You squeezed his hand in return and rested your head on his shoulder. Out of the corner of your eyes, you watched the world quickly pass by through the window. You found yourself wishing time would just slow down.

When you got to the airport, most of the crew was tasked with unloading all the equipment and taking it to where it needed to be checked in. You made your way inside with Izzy and the rest of the band though, your job already over.

Izzy was still holding your hand as you walked in. He slowed his pace, letting the rest of his band pass the two of you by, so you and he could have a moment alone to say your goodbyes.

“You could come with us,” Izzy proposed, knowing entirely that you would reject the idea.

“Izzy,” you sighed, tears welling up in your eyes, “My whole life is here. My family, my friends- all of that is here.” You blinked your eyes shut tightly, trying to stop the tears from falling.

Izzy reached up to gently wipe away a stray tear that had managed to cascade down your cheek. He continued to cradle your cheek after drying your face.

“I know,” he said. His voice with tight with emotion.

You forced a smile onto your face. “Guns N Roses is going places, Izzy. You’re going to be flying all around the world, touring, and recording albums, and constantly moving. We’d be living in different worlds.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” he said softly. “I get it. Can you just promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?” you asked.

“Promise me you’ll always remember that I love you,” he said.

You pulled him into a passionate kiss the second the words left his mouth. Waves of emotion wracked through your body as your lips met his. It would have been the perfect kiss if you hadn’t known it would be your last shared with him.

“I promise,” you whispered, pulling away from him.

Izzy just nodded, not trusting himself to say much more without breaking down. He planted a small kiss to your forehead before taking a step back from you and picking up his suitcase.

“I guess this is goodbye,” he said, his own eyes now watery.

“I guess so,” you agreed. “Goodbye Izzy.”

“Goodbye (Y/N).”

All you could do was watch as Izzy turned away from you and made his way over to the rest of the band and the crew members that would be accompanying them on the next leg of their tour. Upon his arrival, Axl threw an arm around Izzy’s shoulders and threw a glance back at you. You paid him no mind though, too focused on Izzy’s retreating figure. You stood frozen in place as you watched them make their way together over to the terminal and eventually out of sight.

When he was gone, you tentatively raised your hand to your lips, remembering how his lips had felt against yours and heartbroken that you would never know the sensation again.

#izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin imagine #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses imagine #wanda writes

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thesewordsareallihavetogive · 5 years ago

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I Used To Call You Home - Isaac Lahey x Reader

(gif source)

Summary: Isaac comes back from France after two years after leaving without saying a word. (Requested by anon: Could I have a teen wolf Isaac Lacey imagine where he comes back from France? It’s angsty but has a happy ending)

Word Count: 2660

Warnings: angst, fluff, cursing (what else is new)

a/n: hi! sorry this took so long, thanks for sending in the request anon! if i’m being completely honest i kinda like the title more than i like the actual fic (oops). but hopefully you like it and i did it justice! as always, please message me if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

masterlist

It was the last day of y/n’s first semester of college. It had gone by in a blur, really. The pack, y/n included, had still been recovering from everything that had happened with the hunters back in Beacon Hills, so to say her mind was elsewhere at the beginning of the semester was an understatement. She had finished all of her finals the day before so technically she could have already gone back to Beacon Hills, but given that her family all but disowned her when they found out she hung around with the “freaks�� of the town, she wasn’t exactly eager to go home. When Scott’s mom found out that y/n was planning on staying on campus for the break she graciously invited the y/h/c to stay with them for the holidays. While y/n was looking forward to spending time with her found family, she found that now, with her classes over and almost a month of nothing ahead of her, she had more time to think about things than she’d like.

Despite her efforts, her thoughts always wandered back to him. The one that got away. If one could even call it that, technically they were never together. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less - in fact, maybe it made it hurt more - when he left without so much as a goodbye. y/n was packing up the last of her clothes for the break when her phone rang. When she saw the name, she could’ve sworn that her heart dropped through the floor.

Isaac.

She almost didn’t answer. She would’ve been smart not to, considering all the pain he caused her. But something inside her - the part that still loved him with every fiber of her being - told her to pick up the phone. The line was silent for a moment before she worked up the courage to say something.

“Hello?” y/n began timidly. Another beat of silence passed and she wondered if he’d called her by mistake. Or worse, as a joke. She heard him clear his throat and she let out a silent gasp as he answered.

“Hi… I’m… I’m at the airport, could you come pick me up?” Isaac said shyly. y/n could’ve been knocked over with a feather in her state of shock. He’s here. He’s in California. He’s home. On his end of the line, Isaac was almost sure that she’d hung up on him based on the lengthy silence that followed after he spoke. Though she couldn’t see him y/n knew that he was scratching the back of his neck, the way he always did when he was unsure or nervous. Before she could give herself a chance to be bitter, to be sad and resentful, to leave him hanging just like he did to her, she said yes. She was almost as shocked by her answer as Isaac was.

“Okay… um, yeah, I’ll be there soon. Give me like 45 minutes?” she stumbled over her words as she pressed her phone between her ear and shoulder while rushing around her room to pack the last things she’d need while back in Beacon Hills.

“Great, no rush. I can’t wait to see you, y/n,” Isaac smiled warmly before hanging up the phone. y/n stood still in the middle of her room, surrounded by sweaters and leggings with her mouth wide open. I can’t wait to see you, she repeated in her head.

“Fuck me,” she murmured under her breath as she shoved the last few items in her bag. “So much for moving on,” she muttered to herself, shutting and locking her door behind her as she left.

The drive to the airport from y/n’s college campus really wasn’t too far, much to her dismay. Sure, she was eager to see Isaac, but she was definitely not looking forward to confronting the feelings she’d been avoiding for years. As she pulled off the interstate she had to remind herself that they’d been friends since they were in middle school. They knew each other like the back of their hands. Well, they used to know each other anyways. She reminded herself that he always had her back and she always had his. Until of course, he left. No matter what she thought about, it always seemed to come back to that. He left home. He left the pack. He left her. There were some days it made her so angry that she could cry - so she did - but today it was more of a low simmer with the potential to burst at any moment.

The moment y/n pulled up to the terminal it all seemed to fade away. The hurt, the anger, the sadness, gone. Just like that. It didn’t take long after she parked to find him in the crowd. Her blue-eyed, six-foot-two scarf-wearing best friend stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd of shorter travelers. Her breath hitched in her throat when they locked eyes through the window. As far as she was concerned, the rest of the world ceased to exist in that moment because all she could see was Isaac striding towards her car with multiple bags in hand. She snapped out of her daze and nearly tripped over her feet as she rounded the car to greet him and help him with his things.

Before she could say anything Isaac haphazardly dropped his bags on the ground, the safety of his belongings be damned, and wrapped his arms around her in a tight bear hug. A million scenarios had gone through y/n’s mind on the ride over but this was not one of them. Isaac buried his face deeper into her neck as y/n finally came out of her state of shock and returned the hug.

“I missed you so much,” he whispered quietly. His breath was warm, much warmer than the uncharacteristically frigid December night, and it sent a warm tingle down her spine. I missed you so much. God, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She was convinced it had to be a joke, this whole thing was playing out as if she hadn’t spent an entire year putting the pieces he’d left her in back together. The worst part was that she knew him leaving had nothing to do with her. He had never meant to hurt her and she knew it would kill him if he knew how badly he did. But, she decided, that was a conversation for when she wasn’t dangerously close to getting a parking ticket for being in the terminal pick-up for too long.

“I missed you too,” y/n replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Isaac was instantly able to tell something was bothering her.

“Hey,” he said with a concerned smile on his face. “What’s the matter?” He genuinely cared, y/n could tell that much. She would’ve felt bad lying to him if she knew she’d get away with it, but she knew he’d be able to tell the moment the words left her lips.

“I’m fine,” she replied with her lips pressed into a thin line and an expression that Isaac couldn’t quite read. He knew something was up, but he also knew y/n. The last thing she would want is to talk about whatever was bothering her in public, so he squeezed her arm gently before effortlessly picking up all three of his suitcases simultaneously to load them in the back of her car. They were quiet for the first few minutes of the drive and a silent understanding passed between them. A lot has changed. The silence remained until Isaac glanced away from the yellow street lights reflecting off the pavement to look at y/n. She’d grown a lot in the time since he’d last seen her; her hair was darker, the bags under her eyes had faded to a lighter color and her skin was clearer. He was almost too wrapped up in rememorizing her features that he didn’t see a small tear slip down her cheek, followed by another, this one larger and faster. Almost.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” he asked, worry etched all over his face as he gently placed a hand on her arm. If she was being completely honest, y/n hadn’t even realized she’d let the tears slip out until he said something. She glanced in the rear view mirror before quickly rubbing her face with the sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt.

“What? Nothing. I’m fine,” she managed to say without her voice cracking. A small sniffle escaped but she never looked away from the road. At first Isaac was patient, he really tried to be anyway. He realized that after nearly two years of radio silence he didn’t have much of a right to come back and act like nothing had changed. But every being - supernatural or not - has their limits, so when y/n lied about her feelings for at least the second time that night, Isaac got tired of being patient.

“Pull over,” he ordered gently, looking at her expectantly and drumming his fingers on his thigh.

“What? No, I wanna get back ho- to Beacon Hills by a decent time,” she answered, only tearing her eyes away from the highway momentarily to try to read his face. He didn’t miss the way that she avoided calling Beacon Hills ‘home’ and that spurred him on even more.

“y/n, pull over, Please,” Isaac pleaded. y/n, who was really not in the mood to unpack her feelings this late at night, almost said no again. When she took in the soft look in his eyes though, she melted. Just like old times. She pulled off at the next exit and parked in the nearest well-lit area. The place was so quiet that it reminded her of a ghost town. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of the pack’s encounter with the ghost riders. Boy, did they have a lot to catch him up on. They sat in silence again for a moment as y/n was nervously wringing her hands together in her lap while Isaac studied her face.

“What’s bothering you? Seriously? Do you know how much it kills me when you’re hurting?” he asked sincerely. y/n let out a small chuckle at that. If only he knew. She thought about deflecting again but she knew that would accomplish nothing and he’d keep them there until the early hours of the morning if she didn’t tell him what was on her mind.

“Why didn’t you say anything,” y/n murmured in a small voice. A beat of silence passed before she continued again. “I know why you left, I get that. I know you were hurting after Allison died. Hell, we all were,” y/n took long pauses every now and then and Isaac gave her all the time she needed. “I… fuck, Isaac, I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell you this,” her voice getting louder and gaining momentum with each word. Here goes nothing.

“I- I loved you, okay? I loved you and you just left without a single goodbye. I was stuck picking up the pieces of myself for almost a year and loving someone who was gone. I lost my best friend,” she rushed out before she lost the courage to say it all. “I still love you,” she whispered quietly. y/n refused to look towards her used-to-be best friend after her confession. She started to regret the words the minute she was enveloped in the silence that followed. Loved. Love. I still love you. The words rolled around in Isaac’s mind for a few moments. When they’d finally registered he lunged towards her, narrowly missing the center console as he gently grabbed her face and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. y/n honestly thought that he was going to get out of the car and walk back to Beacon Hills after her admission, so when he kissed her like he’d been waiting to for years she let out a surprised gasp and sat frozen for a moment. When she finally snapped out of her daze she returned the kiss with a newfound fervor as she threaded her fingers through his brown locks.

The pair only broke apart when their lungs were screaming for air, and by then the car windows had managed to fog up a little. y/n smiled sheepishly at Isaac, who wore a grin big enough to crack his face in two. She looked down to her lap shyly as she chuckled.

“So…” she trailed off, a little bit lost for words.

“So…” Isaac mimicked, a playful look in his eyes as a smirk danced across his face. y/n rolled her eyes and playfully slapped his arm.

“Be nice to me, I could’ve let your ass freeze outside the airport,” she retorted, followed by a very mature display of sticking her tongue out at him.

“Oh, I think I was very nice to you,” Isaac wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. y/n groaned but nonetheless smiled at his boyish nature. The two years apart hadn’t harmed his sense of humor and y/n was grateful for that, maybe just as grateful as she was to have him back home. A few short but sweet kisses were exchanged before y/n drove back towards the highway. It wasn’t until they were nearing the exit leading to Beacon Hills that y/n realized she didn’t know where she was taking Isaac.

“Hey, umm, where are you staying?” she asked as she flicked on her blinker before merging into the right lane. Isaac looked at her like she’d grown two heads.

“With you, to Scott’s place,” he answered, confusion written all over his face. y/n’s jaw dropped and she tried her hardest to keep from swerving off the road.

“So they knew you were coming! And they conveniently forgot to tell me! And you conveniently needed me to pick you up from the airport! What the hell?!” she ranted. Truly, y/n was far too giddy from their earlier kiss to be angry with her friends, but the little plot they had orchestrated definitely had her brainstorming ways to get back at them. Even though Isaac was unaware that the pack had kept y/n in the dark, he found her outburst a bit amusing. During the remainder of the drive to the McCall house they alternated between playful bickering and laughing at each other’s stories from the past two years.

When y/n and Isaac pulled into the driveway they sat there for a moment, basking in the warm feeling of each other's presence. The air between them was quiet for a moment before Isaac broke the silence.

“You know, there’s something I meant to say earlier,” he began as he slowly leaned toward her.

“And what would that be?” y/n asked playfully as her eyes danced around his face.

“I love you too,” he murmured sweetly before pressing his lips against hers. Joy swelled in y/n’s chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in closer. After they pulled away y/n nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Scott, Stiles, and Lydia standing only a few feet away from the front of her car. Both of the boys wore knowing smirks and Lydia was swatting Stiles’s arm.

“I knew it! I knew it!” the red head squealed. Isaac chuckled as y/n’s cheeks began to burn bright red. She buried her face in his chest and he rested his chin atop her head, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair.

“I think this might have been part of their plan, too,” he whispered with a smirk.

a/n: if you saw me using italics 534988 times in this post, no u didn’t ❤

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#isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey fanfic #isaac lahey fanfiction #isaac lahey x y/n #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf imagine #isaac x reader #isaac x y/n #isaac fanfiction #isaac fanfic #isaac lahey

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wireddless · 4 years ago

Text

Codeine Scene (Five H. x Reader) [2]

Codeine Scene Masterlist

Authors Note: Here this is! The rest of the story is in the works and hopefully will be finished in the next few weeks. I only expect this to be about 12-20 chapters long, depending on how much my friend and I edit this. This chapter mentions what it’s like to experience ADHD, as it’s not common within the writing community. I myself have struggled all my life with it, and only wish for it to be more represented in the writing community 💕

Summary: After getting settled into the Academy, Five and the Reader make a quick journey for some groceries. Things don’t go according to plan.

Warnings: Drug use (Marijuana), descriptions of mental disorder (ADHD), Mild gore (not terrible, you’ll know when you get there.)

Word Count: 2432

(Y/n)’s head rested on Klaus’s meditation floor pillow, the rest of her body on a pile of miscellaneous blankets from the linen closet. The high was really setting in, she was now feeling it in her body. Not half an hour after getting settled into the academy, Klaus offered to smoke (Y/n) out. And by god he did.

(Y/n) never had stuff this good before, and certainly not out of a rose petal joint. She could expect something as extra as a rose petal joint from Klaus, but she didn’t. It was really fucking pretty though, she’d admit. Klaus was sitting against the reading pillow at the foot of his bed, laughing with (Y/n) about something said in The Twilight Zone that sounded outrageous when out of context.

Mixed with the smoke of lavender incense, the remaining smoke from the weed lingered, allowing them to get higher without needing to smoke more. (Y/n) had taken an interest in how spiritual Klaus was. She herself was agnostic, but found Klaus’s overall method very tantalizing.

A record played in the background, on a suitcase turntable Klaus bought from a department store like two years ago. The Moody Blues, if (Y/n) recalled correctly. The song was slow, and physically felt good. Like laying down, but in the air. Of course she was also extremely high.

The song was reaching one of its many peaks, and (Y/n) swore she could feel the electric guitar supporting the vocals. Klaus filled his pipe with another bowl of weed and took a long, deep hit, before passing it to (Y/n).

“Mine already?” She gasped. The mere sight of the pipe being handed to her sent a euphoric feeling down her body. She sat up and took the pipe and grabbed a lighter from a bowl of them to her right. Inhaling, she held the flame over the bowl. The smoke felt terrible, but she held it in as long as she could. (Y/n) let out a long exhale, clouding up the room even more. She could feel someone at the door.

“The house reeks of weed, just to let you know.” Five spoke, leaning on the doorframe. His harsh words earned a chuckle from Klaus.

“It always does, stop trying to make (Y/n) feel bad.” Klaus took the bowl back from (Y/n) and took another hit. She ignored Five, and let the music in the background hold her attention. The song was called Nights in White Satin. She’s heard it before, but never appreciated it.

“Klaus where do you get your vinyls? I haven’t found a Moody Blues album anywhere I’ve looked.”

“Oh, I just snag them from Luther’s room.” He started. “After he and Allison finally figured their shit out and fucked, they moved in together just outside The City. They didn’t have enough room for his entire collection, so he took a box of them and left the rest. It’s really convenient if you ask me.”

“Seems like it.” (Y/n) hummed. She looked over at Five again and stared for a second. “You’ve time traveled right?”

Five tilted his head like a confused dog. “Yeah, why?”

(Y/n) spoke again, “Have you seen, firsthand, how large a dinosaur's cock is?” Before Five could even begin to think of a reply, Klaus sat up and chimed in.

“You know, that’s a really interesting question.” He complimented (Y/n)’s thought process. “Five, how large is a dinosaur’s dick?”

“I have never seen a dinosaur‘s Penis!” Five spoke, flustered.

(Y/n) hummed in response, amused. “Why do you think there aren’t like, fossils of dinosaur dicks? Like did scientists think it was inappropriate?”

“Because it’s made of muscle and tissue, those don’t fossilize, bone does.” Five groaned. Klaus and (Y/n) snort, their bodies scrunching up in laughter.

“Bone.” Klaus said in a pause between his giggles. Hearing the word makes both of them laugh even harder.

“I live with children.” Five muttered and walked away.

Klaus and (Y/n) continued to giggle like little children who stole their preschool teachers keys.

The reek of weed slowly started to fade. Five definitely had a contact high, but he didn’t mind too much, as he was still beyond functional. In a quick blip, he found himself in the kitchen, looking to make himself a quick snack. Upon opening the cabinet, he found no bread.

“Damn it.” He released an angered sigh, holding back the urge to kick a hole in the cabinet. The air around him constricted, and in a blue flash, he was back in Klaus’s room.

“Holy shit!” Klaus almost jumped out of his skin when Five blipped in front of him, and (Y/n) sat up quickly, not expecting him either.

“We’re out of bread.” Five spoke immediately, not even waiting for the two in the room to adjust to his presence. “I’m headed to the store, do either of you want to come?”

“Oooh I can’t.“ Klaus frowned. “My stomach hurts. But (Y/n) can go!” He looked over at (Y/n). “You can go right?” She nodded, not minding Klaus speaking for her.

“Yeah, it’s a little stuffy in here.” She lifted each hand up and down, keeping the heels of them on her leg. Five looked down at her and scoffed.

“Well come on then.” He walked out of the room, not waiting for her to get up. (Y/n) scrambled up and followed after him.

“See you in a bit, Klaus!” Her voice carried through the hallway as her feet hit each stair quickly. Five was a fast walker, she noticed, not taking any time to wait for her. Asshole.

Five’s car was in the alleyway next to the house, hidden from the peering eye of those walking along the street. (Y/n) grabbed the passenger door handle, and as she was about to open it, Five spoke.

“You might want to get in the back seat.” His voice became muffled as he plopped into the driver’s seat.

“What why-“ Before she could finish she caught sight of the tons of disposable coffee cups. “Ah.” She shut the door and got into the back instead. She awkwardly tapped her foot as Five put his car into gear and pulled out into the street.

The drive to the market was quiet, except for the putter of the engine, and gentle taps of the rain landing on the roof. Five found a parking spot rather quickly, it being a cool weekend and all.

“Just stay in the car, I’ll be right out.” Five grabbed his keys and slipped out of the car and walked through the parking lot to the market. With no music to focus on, (Y/n) tapped her foot quietly, trying to ignore the slight panic caused by the lack of stimulation.

The rain only slightly calmed her, but it hardly did anything. Her hands came together and the snapping sound of her knuckles cracking filled the car momentarily, before falling silent. Her eyes darted around, looking at the soaked ground, then at the gray sky, then to the cars driving by on the freeway.

(Y/n)’s ADHD had gone untreated for years. When her parents passed and she was placed in her aunt and uncle’s custody, they took her off all medications. She had become quite used to the inability to wear certain fabrics, the anxiety caused by lack of or overstimulation, always moving some part of her body, or the dirty looks she was given when she overspoke when trying to make friends.

The sound of the door opening quickly shot her out of her thoughts. She was about to greet the person getting in, when she realized that it wasn’t Five.

“Shit shit shit shit!” He spoke under his breath, clearly panicked. (Y/n) was completely still, except for her hand, slowly creeping to the big silver wrench next to her. She was losing time as he quickly attempted to pull the panel off of the area next to the ignition.

Her fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the wrench, and she quickly pulled it towards her, trying to stay as quiet as possible. She inhaled as deeply and as quietly as she could, before speaking.

“Hey asshole!” The man in the driver seat jumped, not expecting someone to be in the back seat. He turned and looked at her before reaching in his pocket to attempt to grab something. (Y/n) lunged forward, attempting to hit him with the wrench, missing him as he fell back against the door, his hands whipping out a gun of some sort. Fuck.

She was lodged between the front and back seat, not able to move back in her panic. She was close to tears, but could hold them back. Her hands slowly raised, showing she wasn’t going to hit him.

“Ok, n-now put the wrench down.” His gun was still pointed at her. She slowly lowered her hand with the wrench in it, earning his trust. But now was the time to think fast. Before she let go she aggressively grabbed the barrel of the gun and pushed it up, giving her an opening to swing the wrench at his face.

A sickening crack and the loud scream of the man filled the car as she broke his nose. She wasn’t done though. She ripped the gun out of his hand, tossing it in the backseat before grabbing this man's head by the hair and slamming him into the steering wheel. A series of small honks from the car echoed in the nearly empty parking lot until she was done. Her hands were covered in the blood from his nose, a slight splatter on her shirt as well.

“Oh my god.” He was unconscious. (Y/n) managed to slip back into the backseat, no longer fearing for her life. She quickly stepped out and ran around the car to the driver's seat. “Oh my god.” She opened it and pulled the man's head back, resting it on the seats headrest. She had never really done anything like this before, so she was beyond skittish. Her heart and mind felt like they were going a million miles an hour, and she barely had a clue of what to do. “Oh my god what do I do?”

It took a moment before common sense truly hit her and she checked for breathing and pulse. Her first two fingers could pick up a heartbeat, a rather strong one as well. Her fingers moved to his Cupid’s bow, checking his breathing. She concluded that he was just knocked out, but she was still panicking.

“Hey!” Five’s voice made her jump. She quickly peered over the car and saw Five walking towards her with a few bags. “I thought I told you to stay in the car.”

“I know but something happened!” Five walked around the front and she stepped to the side, revealing the unconscious man below her. Fives eyes widened, surprised to say the least.

“Now the question is; what happened?” Five looked at the man, and then her once again.

“I-I was in the back of the car like you told me and this guy just got in and he tried to steal the car!” Her hand was shaking frantically. “He tried to-“ the word took a moment to process, her fingers showing that she was searching for the word. “Hotwire the car! He didn’t even see me and tried to rip the steering column cover off to get to the wires and everything!” (Y/n)’s voice shook. She was about to cry.

“Ok, ok, that’s a start. What did you do?” Five looked to her for more answers as he leaned down to check the man's vitals for himself.

“I grabbed the-the wrench and I tried to hit him with it but I missed and he pulled a gun out on me.” (Y/n)’s body slumped on the car, needing any support she could get as the adrenaline left her system.

“I don’t see a gun.” Five looked all over the man, not finding the weapon, before his gaze landed on it in the back seat. “Oh, go on.” He stood up and leaned on the vehicle as well. The grocery bags, now forgotten by his feet.

“So I made him think I was putting the wrench down, and then I grabbed the gun and threw it in the back seat, and- and then I hit him in the nose with the wrench and it got his blood all over me,” She gestured to her messed up shirt. “And then I,” her voice broke, the weight of what just happened now settling on her. “I started hitting his head on the steering wheel, and- and I couldn’t stop.” She was full on panicking now.

“Well you got the job done.” Five looked down at him again. “I think you broke his nose.”

“Oh my god I did?” She started panicking more now.

“Yeah, yeah but it’s fine, you didn’t kill him.” Five attempted to comfort her without pulling her into an embrace. He was awfully bad at it though. “Let’s just get him out of the car and go home.”

“We can’t just leave him here!” (Y/n) glanced down at him. “That’s fucked up!” Five scoffed and replied.

“Trying to steal a car is fucked up. He’ll be fine.” Five scooped his arms under the man and effortlessly pulled him out of the seat, dropping him on the ground next to the car, before grabbing the groceries and getting in himself. The groceries landed on the passenger seat with a plop before Five stuck his head out. “Get in the car.”

“Fine.” (Y/n) took one last glimpse at the man she assaulted before getting in, slamming her door shut in unison with Five.

“You got blood on the steering wheel.” Five sighed and wiped it off with a tissue from the box he kept in the center console. As Five pulled the car back out onto the freeway, he spoke. “I didn’t know you had that in you, back there.” His Mazda came to the set speed, giving him the opportunity to glance at (Y/n) through his rearview.

“I didn’t either.” (Y/n)’s voice was quiet, and shaky still. Brow furrowed, he spoke again.

“Well, you did a good job.” He chuckled, knowing she’d be fine. “Klaus would be proud. Now let’s get you home so you can get cleaned up.”

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alarawriting · 4 years ago

Text

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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koolkat9 · 4 years ago

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HWS Germany Ship Week 2021: Day 5

Prompt: End of a Long Day

Paring: GerEng

Word Count: 1281

Winding Down

It had been a long day, but that was a given with any meeting day. Nothing ever got done at best and at worst, multiple fights broke out. What was the point of meetings nowadays? Arthur had joked many times in the past Afonso that it was more like a daycare for nations than a professional meeting, but in recent times that was becoming less of a joke. And poor Ludwig worked tirelessly to try to get something out of it, only to lose his temper at everyone’s immaturity and adjourn the meeting, barely having covered the topics that needed to be discussed.

This particular meeting had taken an even worse toll on the German. He had already been working himself to the bone with paperwork and other tasks for his boss on top of prepping for the meeting. And of course, the other nations did not make Ludwig’s job as host any easier and he ended up cutting the meeting short because he had barely any energy to keep everyone in check. In the aftermath of it all, Arthur was left with an exhausted and miserable lover.

They walked hand-in-hand down the hallway that seemed to go on for miles, Arthur watching for their room number. As soon as they found it and got inside, Ludwig beelined it to the bed, collapse onto it. Letting out a light chuckle, Arthur made his way over to the sink, filling up the room’s kettle with water to make some tea for himself and Ludwig. He joined his partner in bed, two styrofoam cups in hand. Without a word, Ludwig heaved himself up, settled into Arthur’s side, and took his cup. “Danke,” he murmured, taking his first sip.

Arthur gave him a smile, his hand moving to Ludwig’s hair to comb through it. “You’re welcome, love.” They drank their tea in silence, content just to be laying together with the worries of the day behind them. Arthur continued to run his fingers through Ludwig’s hair, messing up the meticulously gelled back. His hand eventually traveled lower, reaching the German’s neck finding the area incredibly stiff and knotted. “Oh darling you’re so tense,” Arthur exclaimed, “Maybe you should take a bath or something.”

Ludwig only shook his head, hiding his face in Arthur’s side. “I’ll be fine,” he mumbled.

“Okay...But after we finish up here I propose we go on holiday out of the country. You desperately need one. Maybe Italy or something.” As he spoke, he began massaging Ludwig’s neck almost absentmindedly, his tea now off to the side. “See the Colosseum, have some quality wine-”

“Leave it to you to think about the alcohol,” Ludwig laughed lowly.

“Hey!” Arthur gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. Go sightseeing, eat gelato, we could even visit Feliciano. Or we could always go to Japan even. Get off the continent.” Arthur went on, listing off all the possible destinations and things they could do, making Ludwig’s smile grow with each one.

“On your stomach,” Arthur demanded about halfway through. Although he didn’t want Arthur fretting over him, he found himself complying, not having the energy to argue (plus, his back was a little achy). His hands trailed across the German’s back, noting areas of the most tension, then getting to work on those areas. As he worked, Arthur resumed their previous conversation “Then there is Australia, but that’s a bit far don’t you think? Maybe Canada would be better and I’m sure Matthew and Al wouldn’t mind us borrowing their cottage for a week.”

“The one we went to last summer?” Ludwig asked though it broke out into a pleased hum as Arthur dug his fingers deeper into his shoulders.

“Yes.”

“Mmm. I think that one sounds the nicest.”

“Then it’s decided. I’ll talk to Matthew about it tomorrow.” With that sorted out, Arthur could now focus solely on massaging, kneading into the skin until the muscles below loosened. As Arthur continued to work, Ludwig let out pleased noises while allowing his body to melt into the mattress. Arthur may have denied the fact, but he was skilled with his hands. By the time Arthur was finished, Ludwig felt much lighter and more relaxed, it was just what he needed.

“Now with that out of the way, how about some dinner?” the Englishman offered, leaning back on the headboard.

“Can we eat in?”

“Of course love.” Arthur reached over to the nightstand, grabbing hold of a room service menu, and placed it in between them so they could look over it. Ludwig sat up to get a better look. Once they had picked out what they wanted, Arthur dialed the number while Ludwig settled down into the pillows once more.

“I know it’s early, but maybe we should change into our pajamas,” Arthur suggested, going over to his suitcase and pulling out his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. While over there, he got some pajamas for Ludwig as well and laid them out on the bed before changing into his own.

Ludwig begrudgingly sat up once more, his eyes lingering on his lover as he slipped the t-shirt on. The shirt itself was quite familiar. “Is that my shirt?”

Arthur turned back to him, a sheepish grin on his face. “M-Maybe.”

Ludwig rolled his eyes, though there was a smile on his face. Although he was tired and hated putting PJs on this early, he followed Arthur’s suggestion.

Dressed in their PJs and the food on its way, they propped up the pillows and leaned back, and flipped through the movies they could rent. In the end, they picked Labyrinth. Actually, it was more like Arthur got this longing look in his eyes, hesitating for a minute before moving on.

“If you want to watch it, you can watch it,” Ludwig said with a chuckle.

Arthur turned to his boyfriend, brows furrowing. “But this is for you. Are you sure?”

“Ja. Right now I don’t really care.”

With a kiss on the forehead and a soft ‘okay’ Arthur flipped back to the movie and selected it. Not long after there was a knock at the door, signaling the arrival of their dinner.

Arthur ended up paying for both dinner and movie despite Ludwig’s protests. “Consider it a gift from me to you for all the shit you put up with,” Arthur had said as he set out the food on their table. Ludwig couldn’t help but feel giddy at the reasoning, any argument soon fell away, and instead, he took a seat at the table with a 'thank you.'

They ate in comfortable silence, making small talk occasionally such as asking how the meal was. Arthur had spoiled them, getting each of them a cheesecake for dessert. Not necessarily Ludwig’s first choice, but cheesecake was good and this particular one was delicious.

Bellies full, the two lovers returned to the bed and hit play on the film they had set up prior. They took a similar position as when they first got here, Ludwig nestled into Arthur’s side with Arthur combing his hand through the other man’s hair (and they wouldn’t have it any other way).

“Have you seen this one before?” Ludwig asked, his voice tired.

“Yes. I mainly like it because of David Bowie.”

Ludwig shook his head, laughing softly to himself. “You and David Bowie.”

“Shhh, it's starting.”

Not even fifteen minutes in, Ludwig was fast asleep, arms wrapped around Arthur’s waist as if he was a teddy bear. A warm smile spread across the Brit’s face as he leaned down to place a goodnight kiss on his lover’s head before returning to his movie.

#germanyshipevent2021 #hws #hetalia #gereng #engger #geruk #hws england #hws germany #fluff #end of a long day #massages #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction

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alpacaparkaseok · 5 years ago

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7 Secrets <pt. 4>

GENRE: Soulmate!au BTS!

WARNINGS: none

WORD COUNT: 3274

Part 4 woohoo! I just really love these girls and their friendships with each other. I kind of wanted to spotlight some of their friendships/back story a bit more in this chapter, just to round out the story a bit more. I swear we’re getting to the good stuff. Also, has anybody else noticed that the word count is steadily increasing? Lol you don’t mind, right? Anyways, thanks so so so much for all the love the story has received so far, I was seriously not expecting anybody to even see it haha. So thank you, it means so much! I’ll probably have part 5 up really soon! Enjoy!

By the time morning rolls around, I feel like I’ve been hit by a train. A quick glance at my phone tells me what I need to know: it’s nearly 10:30. I wince at the time, it’s a rare occurrence when I sleep in for this long. However, judging from my jet-lag and my eyes that are still a little red and puffy from my emotional breakdown last night, I’ll let this one slide. Heaven knows I needed some extra rest.

I stretch and put on one of the hoodies I left behind in my closet from last year, glaring at my suitcases that still need to be unpacked. I’ll add that to the to-do list for today.

Brushing my teeth, I inspect myself in the mirror. I already feel lighter, more at ease. It was a good thing to open up last night. All of my worries haven’t been put to rest, but I feel less overwhelmed. Happier, too. Happier than I’ve felt in a while.

As I descend the stairs to the main level I can hear the mixture of voices, Ichika’s voice piercing through the others as she talks about running out of her favorite cereal.

“Wow,” I mumble as I finally enter the kitchen and dining area. “I think this is the first time everybody else is up before me.”

“Did we wake you up?” Seohyun looks guilty, but I shake my head no.

“Just woke up, actually. I can’t believe I slept for so long. Where’s Soon?” I notice that there is one missing.

“In here!” I follow the sound of her voice, leading me to the living room where she sits underneath some blankets on the couch. The TV is on, and I scowl as my heart kicks into high gear.

It must be the boys’ latest interview, I haven’t seen this one yet. I curl up next to Soon silently, and she resumes her focused attention on the TV. While Kyun-soon may not be as outward in her devotion to the boys, Jin in particular, she is always the first to watch the latest interviews and performances. That is, when we don’t watch them together.

“Which one is this?” I whisper, careful to not distract her too much. Her eyes glisten, and I turn to see Jin giggling in the background.

“iHeart radio,” she whispers back.

Eventually everyone wanders in after hearing the boys’ voices drifting in from the living room. Ichika munches loudly on some toast before nearly choking on it when Taehyung comments on something.

“Ugh,” she groans as we laugh at her. Nobody can blame her, it’s happened to the best of us. “That boy is going to be the death of me.”

I try my best to focus on all of the boys, but I can’t help it if my eyes keep drifting back to Namjoon. He sits in the front as per usual, Jimin on his right. He has a pleasant smile on his face, and not for the first time do I wonder what goes on in his head during these interviews. If he thinks that the interviewers questions are as dumb as I do.

A single camera is in the living room. There’s one other in the entire house, in the kitchen. They automatically turn on at certain times of day, the schedule is hanging up on the fridge. I’m rarely in the living room as is, much less when I know the camera is on. A quick glance confirms my suspicions; there’s a little red light on the camera. It’s filming us. Try as I might, I still can’t help but react when Namjoon offers his adorable dimpled smile at the end, thanking the interviewer and ARMY for the interview.

“Thanks for having us!” Namjoon’s voice echoes through the apartment. “We love you ARMY! We can’t wait to see you soon!” He blows a kiss to the camera, then immediately gets embarrassed after.

I get embarrassed too, the red in my cheeks all too noticeable.

“Aw, look at Beth! She’s embarrassed!” Himari pokes my side, and I tug at Soon’s blanket in order to hide my face.

“So cute!” Seohyun giggles from where she stands behind the couch. “You two are just alike. Oh my gosh you’re going to be so awkward around each other, aren’t you.”

I glare up at her, Seohyun chuckling lightly even as her eyes remained glued to the screen. “I’m not embarrassed…”

Aera laughs wickedly. “Not embarrassed? Beth, I’m sorry, but as cool and calm as you try to be, we all know what your weakness is.”

We laugh together, even as the interview ends and something else comes up on the television. It’s mere background noise as I try to deal with the sudden flood of emptiness that overtakes me. No, not today, I tell myself. I feel happy today.

“What’s the plan for today, boss?” Himari asks, taunting me with the nickname I usually use for her.

I yawn, stretching against Soon who doesn’t seem to mind. No doubt her mind is elsewhere at the moment.

“Well, I’ve got an editorial meeting this afternoon for Webtoon,” I sigh, rolling my neck. “Then I’m free for the rest of the day after that. What are you guys going to be up to?”

Everyone goes about talking about their plans. All of us have some form of work, Minsuh and Seohyun are attending university too. I plan on jumping back into school for my master’s soon, but I just can’t decide where to go yet. It would be fun going to school with them, though. It’s hard to decide when I’m constantly traveling, I’ll probably have to settle for online classes.

Minsuh and Seohyun excuse themselves to go to class together, promising to be back before I get back from my meeting. I smile at Seohyun’s backpack, an assortment of pins adorning it. The centerpiece, of course, is a “Trivia: Seesaw” pin.

Kyung-soon yawns, easing herself off the couch. “I’ve got a couple of clients today, so I’ll be out until later. But I bet I’ll be back before you, too. Your meetings last forever.”

I grunt in agreement. They do last forever. Long enough for Soon to show two different clients houses and still finish before me.

“Where are the houses that you’re showing?” Soon is a respected realtor in Seoul, and it’s no secret that she loves her job. She can make any house a home, in my opinion. She certainly has a knack for making people feel at home, myself included. She’s one of the reasons I survived those first few months after I found out about my soulmate.

“Not that far, you know that one night market you got lost in for hours and Himari and I had to come pick you up?” Himari chuckles at the memory even as I wince at the embarrassing moment.

“Yup,” I mumble. “It’s close to there?”

“No,” Soon gives me an evil smile. “I just wanted to embarrass you again.”

I launch myself off the couch after Kyung-soon, caught between yelling and laughing. She’s smart, locking herself in the nearest bathroom where I can’t get to her.

When I return to the living room Aera, Ichika, and Himari are wiping the tears off their faces as they laugh at me.

“That really was embarrassing,” Himari says. “How long were you lost again?”

“Oh, shut up.”

↔

The rest of the morning passes with no further incidents, although I do go about cursing at my luggage as each suitcase seems to have no end in sight. I typically stay for roughly six months at a time here, which is what I’ve planned for. That should put me here over Christmas this year, returning at the tail-end of January. Just in time for tax-season in the states.

It would be a real pity if I missed that, now wouldn’t it? Himari and Ichika sneak into my room to observe the damage, wincing as I tell them that I still have one bag left to go.

“We’ll be back in a bit, but if we aren’t back in time for your meeting, good luck!” Ichika gives me a thumbs up before heading back downstairs. Himari lingers for a moment, assessing the piles of clothes I’m currently trapped between.

“Having fun?”

I give a dry laugh. “You have no idea. Ready for your lesson?” Himari and Ichika work together, tutoring kids in Japanese. They tend to spend the majority of their time here every year, and over the past three years they’ve created quite the reputation. Apparently the two of them are a dynamic duo.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Himari replies. She’s hesitating, that much I can tell. We may have only known each other for three years, but we know each other inside and out. Outlandish circumstances tend to lead to strong bonds.

“What are you wanting to say?”

She laughs at my intuition. “Ah, right. That. It’s just,” she fidgets in my doorway. “Are you doing ok? I saw you and Kyung-soon up on the balcony last night, it looked like you were having quite the conversation.”

I sigh, a little surprised that I didn’t notice when the others came back. I must have been in my own little world last night.

“I’m...better now. I was just overwhelmed, and Soon was able to wring some emotions out of me.”

Himari nods, the concern in her face fading. “Good, I’m glad. You know, Beth, you can talk to me if you need to. I was getting worried over the last little while, it’s been hard not seeing you and having to guess about your emotional state. If you need anything, I’m here.”

I stop folding a shirt, laying it aside as I rise and make my way to Himari. She meets me halfway, enveloping me in a tight hug. Neither one of us talk about our emotions very often, rarely do I feel the need to. But the fact that she’s so willing to listen makes me thank my lucky stars for friends like Himari.

“Thanks, Himi. I’m so lucky to have you, truly.”

“Oh, I know.”

With that Himari leaves me to my unpacking frenzy, leaving me alone in the house with Aera. It doesn’t take long until she’s knocking on my door, her room just down the hall from my own.

“Need any help?”

“Please.”

With the two of us working together we finish much sooner than I had anticipated. Aera makes me laugh, stating that she thought I should have brought more clothes.

“What do you mean more clothes? I’m pretty sure these are all of the clothes I own.”

Aera looks at me in feigned shock. “Are you kidding me? It’s high time I take you shopping. What time is it?”

We check the clock and notice that I only have a couple of hours left before I have to leave for my meeting. Not nearly enough time to go shopping. Especially not in the huge city of Seoul. Instead we settle on my bed, the two of us staring wistfully at my photo of Jeju Island.

“We should go back,” Aera mumbles from beside me. I hum in agreement. “That was such a great weekend.”

“That weekend was the weirdest weekend of my life.” I laugh as Aera smacks my shoulder. “What? It was! Within literally one week I found out I had a soulmate, he was famous and one of my role models in life, and that I had these six other girls in the same situation and I was shipped off to an island for a weekend to ‘bond’ with them. Don’t tell me that’s not weird.”

Aera nods beside me, eyes sparkling as she recalls that weekend. “Yeah, it was weird I guess. I don’t know, I was just so happy that I had six new best friends who would always be linked to me since our soulmates are inextricably linked with each other. I had thought for so long that I would be all alone on this crazy journey. I guess I was just so happy that I wasn’t alone anymore that I didn’t think about the weirdness of it all.”

I forgot about that. Aera was the first soulmate BigHit found. She’s from downtown Seoul, certainly the closest to our boys. Apparently Mr. Bang found her almost six months before he found me. He hadn’t informed her when he found the others, preferring to not get her hopes up until all of us were found and agreed to the terms of agreement he set us.

When I think about those six months Aera went through all alone, not able to tell another soul that she was impossibly linked with Park Jimin, I can’t help but admire her even more for her quiet strength.

“That must have been horrible, not being able to talk to anybody about it.”

Aera only nods, eyes still glued to the photo. “I’m not going to lie, it was. I thought I was going insane most of the time.” She laughs drily at the memory, and I scoot closer to her. “Do you remember what it was like meeting each other? For a second I thought that Mr. Bang had messed up and that we were soulmates!” She shoots me a fond smile.

“You can say that again.”

“Why would I say it again?”

We look at each other blankly before I burst out into laughter. “Oh, sorry! It’s a phrase in English. I guess it doesn’t translate over very well, does it?” We both giggle, the moment seeming so calm. “It’s true, though. What you said. We all just...clicked. It makes me wonder.”

The moment I walked through the doors of the house we were staying at and met my six best friends, the world became a much brighter place. I had arrived later in the day due to meetings, and I had been so nervous. I was cursing myself the whole ride over, calling myself an idiot for agreeing to Mr. Bang’s idea of “bonding” with my soul sisters. It seemed like a ridiculous idea, but the thought of having other people to lean on and talk to was too tempting to pass up.

The second I met the others, I could feel the warmth and love our friendship would bring. It was like, for a split second, I experienced all the emotions we would go through together. The heart-wrenching tears, the nights filled with laughter and silly antics, the worry and adoration for each other. Above all else, I felt the pillar of support that promised to be a constant throughout our friendship.

It was, in a word, overwhelming. Which I’ve noticed has become a common theme over the past few years. Overwhelming, yet exhilarating.

“Wonder about how it will be to meet Namjoon?”

I nod, laughing at how even the mention of my soulmate seems to have me melting. It can be inconvenient at times, especially when I’m in a meeting and somebody brings up the band. It’s pretty hard to play it cool, so instead I’ve learned to just excuse myself to the bathroom whenever that happens. Can’t have anybody thinking that I’ve got a schoolgirl crush on BTS.

“Well, look at it this way.” Aera rolls off of my bed, stretching like a cat. “I’m probably just going to pass out. No questions asked. The second I lock eyes with Park Jimin, I’m going to pass out cold.” I let out a startled laugh as Aera feigns seriousness. “So, as long as you don’t pass out, you should be good. I’ll take up all the embarrassment, there won’t even be enough left for you. Which is good, I think. Because if it was that intense just meeting you guys, and we’re not even directly connected, then I can only imagine how intense it’s going to be with those weirdos.”

With that little speech, Aera flicks a strand of long brown hair over her shoulder and marches out of my room, leaving me dumbstruck.

“Um, Aera?” I call after her, heading toward the bathroom to finally get ready for my meeting.

“Yeah?”

“I really hope I get that on video.”

“What, me passing out in front of Jimin?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh-ho, you’ll regret it if you do. Better watch it, little girl.”

↔

It’s been so long since I’ve been in Seoul that I decide to leave nearly an hour early for my meeting, taking the option of the bus over car. Aera didn’t mind, she was leaving anyways. She was off to a high-end boutique she had just pitched some designs to. She was obviously nervous, but I had no doubt the boutique would gladly welcome her ideas. Aera was an up and coming designer, she had even recently designed a dress that was worn overseas at a film premier.

I was on the bus for just shy of an hour as it made its way across Seoul. I didn’t mind one bit, it allowed me some extra time to simply reconnect with the city and map it out in my head. It was something I often did, in order to prevent future mishaps...like getting lost at a certain night market for hours on end.

I was so lost in my mental map-making that I almost didn’t notice the bus’s approach to the Webtoon office building. Scrambling off the bus, I made my way to my first meeting.

Everything went pretty much according to schedule. I was able to review the panels that my illustrators had prepared for the upcoming season of my book-converted-toon “Young Rising”.

It was all too easy to dive into the work that awaited me there, happy to back among my friend and editor. He was the same prestigious editor who had been there that day Mr. Bang came to visit me. I have no idea what Mr. Bang told him, but my editor never asked me any questions about it.

Apparently it was so nice to be back that I didn’t even notice the time until the sun had set. I glared at the clock on the wall in the drawing room, claiming that it was already well after 9 pm. Add a bus ride onto that, and I won’t be home until nearly 11. I pulled out my phone to text the girls only to find a flurry of texts already waiting for me.

7:32 Himari loml: Don’t tell me you’ve decided to go back to the states already, you just barely unpacked.

8:01 Himari loml: Wow, did you miss work that much? More than me?

8:17 Aera 💛: Are you staying late tonight? Let me know.

9:08 Kyung-soon☺️: I swear if you’re lost at another night market, I’m not coming to get you.

9:28 Kyung-soon☺️: I’M KIDDING I SWEAR TELL ME IF YOU’RE LOST I’LL COME GET YOU

9:32 Ichi: Beth I drew you a picture while I was in class, come home so I can give it to you.

9:38 Himari loml: Ok

9:38 Himari loml: We’ve got a situation here

9:39 Himari loml: Seriously, come home ASAP

9:41 Himari loml: Minsuh is on her way to the office rn. Let me know when you get this.

What started out making me roll my eyes suddenly comes to a halt as I keep scrolling through my notifications. It’s only when I return Himari’s text, letting her know that I’m fine, that I notice the missed call from 9:35.

Missed call: Bang PD 😟

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