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youarejesting · 3 years

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Kisaeng (BTS)

[Masterlist]

Beta: @bluewhale52, @janetfraiserdeservedbetter Genre: historical, drama, adventure, comedy, feel good, slice of life (if you lived in the 1654), spy’s (espionage). Rating: Teen and up Summary: Mulan disguised as a soldier, went to war to spare her father and save china. The bangtan boys disguised as concubines, went to an all womens home and saved a small village. Words: 12154 Announcement: This is part of a reverse trope project with castle bangtan. I am happy to have made this and for everyone who helped support along the way.

Winters End 1654 Hanseong,

Today my mentor Bang Si-Hyuk taught me the history of the Qing invasion and the passing over of the Ming to Qing era. We discussed the Qing Calendar and the offerings of princesses made to King Dorgon. Bang-seodang (teacher) told me I was a child for not understanding that there was a place for everyone. Men would fight in the wars and women would stay home and bear children. He is telling me this as news has spread that we are going to war and it is only a matter of time before they call for us. But when I think of my family and my sister, I want to protect them. I don’t want to fight in the war even if it is for my country. Leaving will only put my family at risk.

Kim Namjoon.

Namjoon placed down his brush and wiped his palm of ink that sometimes smudged. With a deep sigh, Namjoon got ready collecting his satchel, and headed to the town. Namjoon arrived at the small well-frequented building. The building held all the information of the residents in town and was also a place for people to send letters. That’s where he spent most of his days reading and writing correspondence for the villagers.

He had received the earliest message about the impending war. There was only so much he could do to protect his family and he feared the coming announcement of deployment. Every available man was to go, leaving the women and children to fend for themselves. The women would have to tend the farm and care for the younglings which would only work if they stuck together.

The problem lay with the men who would be allowed to stay behind due to business, like the butchers and the barmen and anyone who would swindle or pay their way out of deployment. These men were shady and wouldn’t hesitate to exploit and hurt the women left behind unprotected.

Namjoon was in the middle of writing another love letter for one of the many present flower boys (beautiful men) within the town. Today’s letter was to someone Namjoon had written to on many occasions and yet never had the pleasure of meeting in person.

My dearest Kim Seokjin,

There is no one who can compare to your beauty. A man such as yourself would be ever so popular and have gardens of beautiful flowers for you to pick. But there is a part of me who wishes that I may be the sweet flower that you might choose. That I could be the one to make you smile. The one who can make a long day feel like it was nothing when you come home.

“How does that sound, Miss Ahn?” Namjoon looked up, his expression deadpanned. He never expected his tutor to teach him the importance of reading, writing, history, poetry and Confucius’ philosophy, only to waste it on love letters from pining women addressed to the same two young men every week.

Part of him felt sorry for the two men, but another part of him felt jealous that these two men had the entire pick of women from the town, and he was stuck with his lessons. The constant “Scholars life is one without women” Bang-seodang (teacher) preached whenever he noticed Namjoon’s eyes wander from his books out the window at the young ladies giggling.

Namjoon finished with the letters and handed them over to Hoseok, the delivery man whom he only ever saw in passing; the man was so energetic and gangly. He had an odd tone of voice but it always sounded chipper.

Namjoon had only the briefest of moments with the young man. “Here for the mail,” Hoseok called, and the letters were placed on the counter along with two coins for his hard work and he took the money and letters and headed on his way.

Hoseok took a stack of perfume scented letters from his bag and rolled his eyes. Seokjin was a popular young man, only to be outdone in recent years by Taehyung.

The things Hoseok had to go through to deliver the mail was honestly scary in itself. He found it best never to stand around too long; best to simply hand over the mail and leave.

He had a few regular customers he enjoyed spending a short time conversing with. Today he was delivering mail to the Noble Kim household. He walked in, nodding to the servants, and promptly followed the steward.

“It seems the young master has mail once more,” The steward called and Hoseok was beckoned inside. He bowed low and shuffled quickly and quietly across the room where the Kim family were having breakfast.

Hoseok knelt down and began taking out multiple letters addressed to the second son. “Father I don’t want to go to war,” Seokjin protested adamantly, slamming his rice bowl down onto the table.

“It is the way things are, how they’ve always been.”

“Why don’t they send a few girls, why do they get to sit around at home? It isn’t fair”

Hoseok had heard about the possibility of war from the postal office. Any messages to and from the city passed through himself which left him privy to important and secret information. He did feel a tad nervous for his sister and mother. He wanted to stay home to protect them, but only a few men with jobs important to the community got to stay behind, men who provided essential services like the postman. The problem was that only one could stay behind and unfortunately, it would not be Hoseok to represent the post but the old man who ran the office.

Hoseok wished he could just dress as a woman and stay behind but that was a crazy idea; men who did that were either shunned as cowards or killed. He handed over the stack of letters and moved on his way, bowing again before backing out of the room, leaving Seokjin with his hands full of letters of adoration and sickly sweet perfume.

Letters again; they each began talking about the war wishing he came back safe as if he had already left and had resigned to his fate. Those words dwelled in Seokjin’s head more and more and made him feel ill and bitter. He tried not to crease his forehead. He didn't look good when he was angry.

If only he could be a girl and laze around without a care. He would play and frolic in the gardens and he would have an easy life.

Seokjin read each letter slowly and sighed. Of course, he was handsome, and these women had their way with words. Every day, the letters became more profound and he could feel his ego rising.

Seokjin sighed once more, a growing habit for the day as he got dressed. He looked fit for a Nobleman, his hair tied in a top knot manggeon (mesh headband that stops baby hairs sticking out) preventing any hair from falling in his face. He then wore his gat (hat) with fine jade bead gatkeun (beads that hang from their hat).

He thought he looked quite smart and with his small pouch of coins around his neck, wandered from the estate. His father had ordered swords, readying for the war to come and had sent Seokjin to pick them up from the blacksmith.

Seokjin held his hands together behind his back and casually strolled through the streets, trying to keep his composure. He nodded at a group of giggling girls but his smile fell soon after he passed them. They were so lucky, they weren’t taking up arms to fight for their families. No, the women had it easy.

Amidst his fuming, he accidentally made eye contact with an old drunk man who looked him up and down and smiled crassly. Seokjin shivered in disgust. Part of him wondered if he could pass as a woman; he had a pretty enough face and perfectly plump lips.

He didn’t have much time to think as he arrived at the blacksmiths. He walked into the room and saw a shirtless young man, smithing. Beside him, an older man, presumably the man’s father, was shoveling coal into the fire.

“Jungkook, we have a customer,” the older of the two smiled at Seokjin before resuming his work.

Jungkook dropped his things and grabbed a towel, drying his chest of sweat. He headed to the wooden table by the entrance, draping his Hanbok over his chest and thin waist to appear more decent in front of the handsome nobleman.

“Good morning, Sir, what can I do for you today?” He smiled a particularly wholesome little smile, teeth a little big but endearing.

“I am here to pick up the order of swords my father ordered?” The nobleman smiled.

“Your name sir?” Jungkook sat at the desk and opened the ledger. Though Jungkook wasn’t a nobleman with extensive education, he still knew how to read and write basic words associated with smithing.

“Kim.”

“Kim, Kim, Kim...gardening tools.... no, aha the swords! Yes, sir, that will be 100 mun a piece sir.”

“I should have enough here,” he smiled, placing down a pouch that made a heavy ‘clink’ sound as it hit the wood.

Jungkook emptied the pouch and counted the coins with expertise, then handed back the change and the silk floral pouch it came in. He fetched the swords and carried them over; they were expertly made by him and his father.

“Thank you,” Jungkook smiled and began explaining in detail the care and features they added to the handcrafted metal weapon. “Three foot long single-edged, weighted and balanced”

Guiding the customer out, Jungkook handed over the two swords and held the door open for the handsome young man to crab walk from the smith’s shop. He looked completely out of place holding such dangerous weapons, and he pitied the young man. He was the son of a nobleman and would definitely be expected to set an example.

Jungkook had on many occasions sparred with his father and was able to hold his own in a sword or unarmed fight. He wondered if his father would be okay alone. He would be exempted due to his job and physical condition, but he was getting older, would he be able to work on his own without getting hurt or sick?

Scooping up the bag of tools, Jungkook told his father to take a break and that he would deliver the tools and bring back some fresh fruit from the Kim farm. He poured his father a glass of tea then left.

As Jungkook traveled through the crowd to reach the fields across town, he passed the small bar. Inside, he could hear the raucous of unsavory street merchants discussing how they were going to bribe their way out of deployment. They had plans to pay the royal officials and take over the town when all the men had left. It seemed that all they wanted to do was cause havoc to all the families and businesses, and blackmail them into paying a safety fee.

He pressed on, trying not to think about his father being exploited or worse, given his current state. While musing, he arrived at the small farmhouse on the edge of town and was greeted by a handsome young man.

“Hello, Can you hold this?” The young man smiled, handing over a large rope. Placing down the bag of tools, Jungkook gladly held the rope tightly in his palms.

Taehyung raced to the other end of the rope and secured it in both hands, he looked up with a grin before shouting, “Okay pull!”

The young man who had arrived at the farm was confused but he pulled the rope nonetheless. Taehyung pulled back and the two were suddenly in a heated tug of war.

Taehyung giggled and the young man seemed to give it his all. It was a battle of strength and the farmer’s son wasn’t particularly muscular as he very much neglected most of his farming duties for foolish games so it was only fair that the young delivery man bested him.

“Good game, you are pretty strong for someone so young,” Taehyung patted the Younger man's head before scooping up the rope.

“Isn’t this a child’s game?” Jungkook eyed the rope draped over the older man’s shoulders.

“Sometimes it helps pass the time to act a little childish, and it made you smile so you thought it was fun too right?”

“I enjoyed it, thank you for the game, I am here to deliver tools for your family.” He said now looking more serious.

“Ah yes you must be the blacksmith, you look like a blacksmith. All work, no fun.” Taehyung tapped the younger man’s nose before turning with a flourish, humming as he went, beckoning the smith to follow.

“I have to work to take care of my father,” He pouted, Taehyung enjoyed the boy's childish nature, the two could definitely get up to some mischief.

“My name is Taehyung,” He smiled, gesturing to the large box in the shed and removing a small pouch of coins from his satchel.

“Jungkook,” He sighed, placing the tools down and gratefully accepting the money.

“What are you going to spend it on, sweets?”

“Uh, it's for my father's medicine,” Jungkook laughed, making Taehyung feel a little sorry for the kid, he was so young and yet working so hard already.

Taehyung with his unwavering curiosity decided to tail the boy once they parted, not trying to be discreet, just walking a few paces behind and whenever the boy turned, Taehyung gave him a smile and wave. Lost in thought for a moment, Taehyung didn’t take notice of the boy in front of him until they were colliding, fumbling with the empty porcelain soju bottles.

As Jimin fell, he pulled each bottle to his chest and held them; though the impact was quite jarring, the bottles were safe. Jimin lived with his grandparents and they ran a business selling rice wine which was popular but didn’t make them a lot of money. They couldn’t afford to replace any new bottles.

It was his job to deliver the full bottles to the bar and bring back the empty ones. If any bottles were broken, the bar would pay for replacements. That was the rule, but if they were broken during delivery, the money came out of his family’s pocket.

“I am sorry,” the man who had run into him was polite and gentle, helping Jimin to his feet and dusting him off, “Let me help you carry some of those, I promise I will look where I am going.”

“Thank you for the offer, you can carry this half” He offloaded a few from his arms.

“I am Taehyung by the way, who are you?”

“Oh, I am Jimin,” he smiled, thankful for the help. The two journeyed through the vendors until they arrived at Jimin’s family business, “Gran, I have a friend who helped me,” Jimin called.

“Oh let me see him! Oh he is quite the looker, Jimin, if only you were a girl, what is the use of you being so pretty if you can’t lure in handsome young men,” she joked playfully, this was their running joke that Jimin was so pretty.

“I can lure in handsome men just fine, see if I was a girl I would have too many suitors. I wouldn’t be able to pick,” Jimin laughed.

“If you were a girl then you wouldn’t have to go to war.” Jimin’s heart sank knowing his grandmother really didn’t want to see him leave.

“That would be one way to get out of the army,” Taehyung laughed and Jimin’s grandmother handed him a plate of rice cakes. The two boys wolfed them down happily, bonding over their love of sweets and games.

Taehyung left and Jimin was getting ready to close up shop; he lifted a large porcelain vase of Soju and carried it over to the butchers. The butchers were not the nicest of people; they were affiliated with the outlaws, the ones Jimin heard talking about taking over the city when the men left for war.

“Yah!” Yoongi called, seeing the graceful form of Jimin from the top floor of the liquor store. “Jiminie.”

“Hey Yoongi, I am here to trade.” Jimin smiled up at him and he nodded, coming down.

“Alright, dad’s got your meat pack ready, it's all freshly cut.” Yoongi handed over the basket.

“Have you been preparing for deployment?” Jimin asked him, it seemed the secret war was not so secret as it was all everyone was talking about. The boy always meant well, this innocent question asked by anyone else would not have ended so well.

“I am not going, Jimin, my dad has bribed the officials trying to get as many men as possible to stay behind so that they can take over the town. there isn’t much resistance when the only people left are the elderly, the women, and the children.”

“You should think about staying too, maybe I can convince my father not to threaten your family and their shop.”

“I can’t; it’s punishable by death if you try to avoid your duty.” Jimin sighed, “Gran thinks I should just dress up as a lady and stay behind and protect my family.”

“You could definitely get by as a lady, you would just have to work on a few things,” Yoongi hummed looking him up and down. He eyed Jimin up and down wondering if Jimin could really do it, lie to the officials, and say he was a girl.

He would have to stay in the Kisaeng house; he couldn’t stay with his grandparents, because if he was found out they would all be killed. Perhaps Yoongi was thinking too far into this, but he really did like Jimin. He was the only person who knew who he was and yet still wanted to be his friend.

“Maybe that might be an option, I don’t know how my grandparents will do on their own being so old; the shop barely makes enough money for food as it is.”

“Look, if you can’t stay, I could try my best but it’s alcohol, and you know these men love to drink,” Yoongi said honestly, “they will probably go through all the supplies in a week and everyone else will struggle.”

Yoongi sighed, watching the boy leave looking rather forlorn; perhaps he shouldn’t have told him.

Spring 1654 Hanseong,

Today, I, Kim Namjoon, have done something stupid. I dressed as a girl but it seems like I wasn’t the only one. Five other idiotic bamboo shoots have no clue what they are doing. Stepping foot into the kisaeng house was taboo, only women and eunuchs were allowed entrance. But the officials have been bought out by the corrupt street merchants, the kind who plan to take whatever women and land they see fit. We are all honestly praying for a miracle, that no one will find out we are men, some are better at hiding it than others. We will see.

Kim Namjoon

Namjoon was rudely awoken by the call of war. He guessed today was the day. He dressed slowly, in no hurry to give his life away. Departing his room with little thoughts of breakfast, Namjoon heard the soft sniffles from his sister who was mournfully packing. There was not enough room for all the beautiful dresses so she had left many behind.

He wanted nothing more than to stay, if only to protect his sister in their own home and let her keep her luxuries of dresses and books.

Namjoon knew women were not allowed to read or write but he made time every day teaching his younger sister or letting her sit in on lessons when father was away working in the palace.

Namjoon hugged his sister, trying to comfort her as well as to calm his nerves. “Do you need me to walk you home, I can carry your bag?” He said trying so hard to prolong the moment.

“No brother it is okay,” she paused. “You are going to come back, you're smarter than any of the men out there. You’ll return, I know it.”

She scooped up her bag and left the house, waving from the front gate. Namjoon was sure he wouldn’t get away with his plan. But he packed a few of his sister’s bigger dresses, hoping they would cover him entirely. He grabbed a subtle pink chima (skirt) and sky blue jeogori (jacket), looking at the two items, they honestly looked complicated but he knew logically which items went where.

Namjoon did his best stripping from his masculine clothes and getting to work. He wrapped his chest and followed the order he believed for the under skirts and silks. Once fitted, he was exhausted; wrestling fabric wasn’t easy. He didn’t want to be late or leave room for doubt, so he settled for a simple braid.

He followed behind his younger sister, by a few yards, trying to mimic her walk and mannerisms, hoping that he could pass as a girl. He ducked past some officials keeping his head low until he saw the beautiful residence. A collection of young girls were already lining up with their belongings.

As fathers and brothers were going to war, some children were left without parents. This meant the children were rehomed into other families. The young women old enough were left in the kisaeng house (home for courtesan), where girls were taught how to be wives before they were sent to the matchmakers.

Hoseok had secretly been stealing his sister's clothes, trying to perfect her style of makeup. The two had such similar feminine features, the only difference was Hoseok’s athletic body. It wasn’t hard for him to slowly get the hang of her makeup and hair routines. Honestly, Hoseok thought he had a real knack for braiding hair.

He tried to round out his lean build with some makeshift breasts, but he couldn’t get them the same size; that and they had a tendency to slip. He had his chest wrap on but it was too loose around his chest and the fact he didn’t have boobs made the whole thing shift and the rice pouches he had slipped right out.

He deemed himself ready, heading out towards the kisaeng house with his coin purse on his hip. Lining up, he couldn’t help but blanch at the poor excuse of a woman standing in front of him.

Her hair was not at all perfect like his, but he seemed similarly dressed. Hoseok looked down at his own green jeogori and red chima, for a brief moment he wondered what the young girl was going through. Her family must be torn apart by the war; without a second thought, he tapped the tall woman on the shoulder, only to be greeted by Namjoon, who he recognized from their brief encounters at the postal office.

Almost revealing their identity, Hoseok covered his mouth. As the officials passed by, the two disguised men bowed politely behind their fans. The stuffing in Hoseok’s chest wrap slipped to his waist making his chest obviously lopsided. Namjoon’s face contorted in an attempt to keep his composure.

Hoseok’s laugh came out uncharacteristically deep but he remembered why he was laughing, he was trying to appear feminine. Turning his body away, he faced Namjoon, “Let me fix your hair, sweetie, you must have been upset having to see your brother leave.”

“Ah thank you,” Namjoon said with a sweet soft voice. The two turned away from the officials so that Hoseok could fix his breast dilemma and also tame Namjoon’s hair before the two of them were found out as fakes. After doing a beautiful updo where Hoseok added one of his spare combs for decoration, he turned Namjoon to face him in order to add a little makeup from his floral coin purse.

Seokjin felt betrayed by his family; his father lied about the three of them going to war. It seemed as a Nobleman he was exempt, and as his older brother was the firstborn he was also exempt in order to carry on the family name.

Seokjin however was the spare son. This meant he was expendable. He was begrudgingly on his way to the front gate of town ready to hand over his ID and his life to some stupid war when he heard the uncharacteristic masculine giggles from the line of young women waiting to spend their days pouring tea and strolling through town while he trekked the countryside and fought for his life and theirs.

He followed the sound, eyes catching on two rather tall figures, and it didn’t take long to recognize Hoseok’s face. He couldn’t forget the face of his mailman and he had to admit it was a bit of a feat that he and the rather tall looking young man were both trying to pass as young women. Seokjin looked down at the sword on his waist and contemplated seriously about joining the two.

He caught sight of a beautiful silk chima in a brilliant dusty rose color, he leaned over the counter, “Excuse me, ma’am, I would like to buy this beautiful set for my sister before I leave.” He exchanged some of his coins making sure he had enough for what he had planned. He threw in a veil as well, not to cover his beautiful face but to offer to the taller man he saw with Hoseok, whose jawline was just a little too masculine.

Seokjin got dressed behind the postal office; he stepped out once more making sure to cut in line in front of Hoseok. Seokjin offered the tall man ahead of him the pretty lace veil which matched his outfit. “For your jawline, it is too prominent you must appear more dainty,” Seokjin muttered with a swish of his skirt. He was thankful he hadn’t fallen on his face with how much fabric encircled him.

The tall man took the offered fabric wrapping it around his face only to have Seokjin swat his hands away, “You are hopeless.”

“Ah Namjoon, this is Seokjin,” Hoseok gestured between the two.

The boys spent a few moments brainstorming new names and identities, in order to really get into character.

It didn’t take long for the three to reach the front of the line; they had taken to preening each other, trying to help one another appear more feminine. Seokjin almost anticipated Namsoon’s refusal but when he wasn’t pushed out, it was Seokjin’s turn. Stepping inside, he was met by a woman dressed in a brilliant dark grey chima and orange Jeogori. Her eyes had a sharp glint. The smirk on her face was prominent as she brushed her small fingers across her chin. “What brings you to my home, young lady?”

Jungkook was camping a few paces into the tree line behind the blacksmiths. He hoped he could look after his father and not get caught for staying home. He saw the officials handing out exemption passes and he knew he couldn’t leave. Not when the enemy had such large numbers behind them.

Jungkook went hunting, he didn’t want to bother his father by being an extra burden on their small supply of food. Catching something significant for dinner, Jungkook did his best to prepare the meat and then cooked it over a small fire.

The shadows crawled across the ground as the sun bowed behind the hills. Jungkook wondered if life could be this easy without wars and evil, if there could be harmony and peace one day.

Jungkook heard a commotion in town and frowned, going to the edge of the forest to listen. “The King has heard people have paid their way out of deployment, anyone caught will be sentenced to death. Come forward now and you will be spared and sent off with your fellow men.” The man read from the scroll, looking about the village. “We will now commence inspecting every household”

A few men stepped forward, walking to the front gate and signing their deployment. A few retreated and were cut down by the bite of the swords from the royal guards. There was running coming from his left and a small figure spoke quickly; “Run, the guards are coming”

Jungkook followed after the thin figure and the two stopped at the nearest window and climbed in. They were caught by a young woman dressed regally in orange, grey, and gold, “Good evening, can I help you?”

“Uh… we um?” Jungkook was embarrassed.

“I will happily help two young ladies such as yourself, but, you will have to dress quickly if you wish to make dinner”

Ladies? Dress for dinner? Jungkook was confused, the sound of the royal guard growing louder as they searched for any men hiding from their duties. He looked up at the woman catching her eye, she smirked knowingly.

“You wouldn’t want the guards catching you underdressed now would you?” He realized then that she was offering them refuge.

The two nodded, taking the clothes thrown in their direction, rushing to dress. The woman helped tie their jeogori before leading them out to the Sigdang (dining hall). She led them to a table filled with some other strange looking ladies, some of which Jungkook could have sworn were in disguise as well. Was that Taehyung?

Taehyung smiled seeing the two new additions to their group. He recognized the blacksmith anywhere and smiled trying to get the young man’s attention. Giggling when he did just that, Taehyung hadn’t spoken with Jungkook for long the day they met but he knew those wide curious eyes. They looked just as confused when Taehyung handed him a rope that afternoon by his family's farmhouse.

The woman was in on it, when Jimin and Taehyung came up with the idea, they didn’t expect Jimin’s Gran to not only hear their plan but also support it. She went out of her way to speak with the woman known as Hojang (head of house).

The bargain was to take in the two gentlemen who would protect the women and to provide free wine for the building next door. Kisaeng was a place where women could stay and learn all the things a woman should know before marriage.

Next door, however, was the tea house, at least during the day. At night it was filled with men, mostly guards and officials who would drink and dabble with opioids in the company of fine young women.

These women were not forced to be there, but those who chose to be would leave with their coin purses filled. Some of the money was used to fund the house, and the rest was pocket money they could spend on new silks and anything else they desired.

Taehyung learned quite a lot about this during the days leading up to the deployment. The Hojang held such a big presence; she moved with grace and did business with the best.

Jimin’s Gran had painstakingly obtained the silk and hand made clothes tailored to her grandson’s and Taehyung’s bodies. She also taught them how to sit, stand, walk and dress like a lady. The two were doing rather well but the hojang scrutinized every little detail that they should work on in her home.

Taehyung could see she expected nothing less than perfection from her girls and she wouldn’t make an exception for them. She would make proper ladies out of them if it took everything she had, and perhaps a little more.

Gran had always taught Jimin things that she loved herself. Jimin remembered dancing with his gran every afternoon, when he was young, the two would hold beautiful fans and perform. Jimin would do anything to make his gran happy.

The Hojang picked up on this early, pleased with his form but it didn’t last long when he opened his mouth. Though his voice was sweet, the words and drawl were masculine and crass.

Jimin was surprised when Taehyung and himself were joined by more young men in dresses. He didn’t think anyone else would have the guts or the stupidity to join the house. He tried to fight the smirk that stretched across his face when he saw the three young men sitting across the table.

The Hojang had laid out the rules that they had to obey while living in her house: they were not to touch any of the women, they were to share a room by themselves, they were to only refer to themselves as their female alter egos, and they were to act like graceful ladies at all times.

Jimin greeted the newcomers. “My name is Park Jimin” He smiled sweetly. He was glad his name was widely used by both girls and boys or he would have to remember something else.

“Namsoon,” the tallest smiled, holding out a large hand to shake but immediately retracted it with a small shy smile. ‘Definitely a boy.’ Jimin thought.

“Seojin,” the broad shoulders were giving Jimin mixed thoughts. However, no matter if they were a female or male, Jimin knew this person was beautiful.

“Hye-Seong,” a cute voice said, surprising Jimin. The voice was a little nasally but it belonged to a man none-the-less. The group turned to the two newcomers dressed in beautiful silks and ribbons, their hair braided down their backs.

“Yoonji” A familiar deep drawl spoke, making Jimin drop his chopsticks looking over at him shocked. Jimin looked Yoongi over, seeing that the young man actually made a rather beautiful woman, he almost felt himself blush.

“My name is uh… Jeong-suk” Jimin found it almost laughable.‘Jeongsuk’s build was almost unbearably muscular in the outfit, it wasn’t fitted to him at all. He looked like he was an overloaded dumpling the way the fabric worked over-time to conceal him.

“Hi, My name is Taeyeon, it is nice to meet everyone” Jimin laughed at how deep Taehyung’s voice sounded before he lifted the pitch.

Yoongi couldn’t believe his father talked him into staying only to have it backfire. Yoongi thought finally he would be able to get away from his father and the immoral activities he orchestrated.

Now he was pretending to be a woman, this was probably the biggest disrespect he could have ever felt. He almost wanted to walk out onto the streets and hand himself in. He would take death over the humiliation.

“Alright ladies everyone at your table will be sleeping in your quarters, the token on your table is the room color you will be staying in,” Hojang clapped her hands. Yoongi looked at the token on the table and Jimin lifted it for all the occupants to see the Yellow wooden piece “I would like you all to bathe and get to bed as quickly as you can, as we have lessons tomorrow. And I will not have any giggling or you will be eating bean soup for the whole week.”

The girls obeyed the Hojang’s instruction and started filling out. Yoongi watched in amusement at the kid he had met in the forest leaning away practically in fear of the women passing by.

“I would like the yellow table to please stay behind.” The Hojang announced.

Yoongi sighed, wondering what this woman had to say to him and his new friends. Once the room was empty, the Hojang addressed them.

“I am happy to house you all, but you will follow my rules and I will teach you what you need to know. I will have you getting men to empty their pockets and you won’t have to do anything more than throwing them a coy smile.” Humming, the Hojang looked at them all over, eyes settling on Yoongi’s making him feel vulnerable.

“I can see who has good intentions, and I can see who thinks that women have it easy. I will show you what it means to be a woman, the struggles you will face.” She gestured the group to stand. Yoongi struggled, trying to get up as he was stepping on his skirt. He really tried to correct himself, but it was too late the fabric under his foot tore. The Hojang sent a disappointed and disapproving glare.

“Miss Namsoon, your sister is here, I have warned her to not refer to you as her brother nor Namjoon. I have told her if anyone finds out you are men, you will be killed. Your room is secluded across the courtyard and has its own private hot spring. So please bathe there and nowhere else. If I find out you are perving on my girls, I will turn you into eunuchs.”

Yoongi swallowed audibly. He felt respect for this woman. But he was also scared of her.

Summer 1654 Hanseong,

The past three moon cycles have been particularly painful. I have seen so much and started to really appreciate what women have to go through, if only from the first lesson that left us all so exhausted. The list of expectations of a woman before she could even be considered for marriage is frightful. The Hojang confiscated my books and ceased my ability to speak freely. My mentor explained Confucius’ teachings on how important it is to speak your mind and be true to yourself. But the first lesson from Hojang was not the same. I am proud to say I have grown, I now truly see how important words are.

Kim Namjoon

The day began with cleaning their sleeping quarters and heading to the sigdang, where they were to cook their own meals as was expected of wives (unless of course, they were wives of noblemen who had servants). Namjoon looked at the ingredients rather unsurely, he had no idea what one was supposed to do with them.

He was a smart guy, he knew what everything was and how it ended up together, but the process in between wasn’t something he was familiar with. He saw Jimin take the rice and begin washing it without instruction. Jimin explained his family worked with rice for their business, making rice wine and that his gran was particularly fond of rice cakes.

“Why do you wash the rice?” Seo-jin curiously asked, Namjoon turned and watched the younger man work confidently with the ingredients.

“To make it fluffy,” he smiled, “you have to wash the rice to get the frothy stuff off the top of the water.”

The Hojang had invited a wholesome old woman for the cooking class; her small plump figure held such a firecracker personality. She spoke so lively and made the whole lesson amusing.

“Now chop them into half-moons,” the woman smiled. “Be careful of your fingers, curl your hand into almost a fist and hold the knife against the back of your knuckles to prevent slipping and losing a finger.” Namjoon was trying to follow the instruction, but he heard an exasperated sigh from Yoonji.

“Stop, let me.” It was impressive how Yoonji’s hands moved so quickly and precisely while cutting the vegetables.

Namjoon knew at this moment cooking wasn’t for him but judging by the wonder in Seojin’s eyes, it resonated more with him. Taking his notebook out, Namjoon thought it best to write down the instructions the woman was giving on cooking so that he might be able to learn and practice.

The Hojang had other plans, taking the book from his hands and leaning down. “Ladies shouldn’t burden themselves with reading and writing,” her words were bitter through the clenched teeth of a forced smile. She clearly didn’t believe what she was saying as she herself could read and write.

Namjoon realized that this was a privilege only for the king, the nobleman, the officials, and scholars. Namjoon realized that he had yet to meet a female scholar.

The house had been given some free time from the grueling lessons. Honestly, if Hoseok had to pour tea again and have the Hojang smack his elbows with the thin bamboo stick whenever they stuck out too far, he would rip his hair out. On top of that, it was frustrating not to be able to speak out and stand up for himself without getting another sharp tap across his hand.

The boys had all sat in the room that night discussing how the Hojang was abusing them for her own pleasure. “It has to be to get back at us for being male and suppressing her.”

The chance to be free was something important to Hoseok. He was a mailman for a reason, and that reason was to move when and where he wanted to, never be tied down and confined to one place.

Being held up in the kisaeng house was making Hoseok restless, so during this free time, there was nothing that could stop him from racing out from the cage he was supposed to call home. Taking to the streets, it was market day and vendors and merchants were in the town square selling anything and everything he could think of and more. With his coin purse on his hip, he began walking with a practiced giggle.

He almost resented the persona he was to live with, enforced by the hojang. Perhaps it was just because he was thinking of the woman, but Hoseok could swear he felt her gaze. Looking over his shoulder there she was standing on the front porch, parasol in hand, staring directly at him, as if to mentally remind him of the damned curfew.

Could that woman relax at all? Could she just learn to chill and have some fun for once? Hoseok huffed; some fun would probably make her less cranky, but he couldn’t see her acting nicer, that in itself was a scary thought.

Hoseok went past his home and saw both his sister and mother outside playing with the children they took in after he had left. He smiled; they looked happy and healthy and that was reassuring. ‘Perhaps I was worried for nothing.’

As he was heading back, he started wondering if he should have gone to war and defended his country. He shook his head; it was too late now, he had to accept his fate no matter how grueling it got.

Scuffing his feet on the way back to the town square, a sly smile creeping across his face at the thought of the scolding he would receive for doing something unladylike, like walking ungracefully.

“I have to get back, the Hojang will be expecting me.” A small feminine voice spoke, so timid and laced with fear. Hoseok looked down the small lane to see some of the young ladies from the kisaeng house cornered by a much larger group of royal guards.

Hoseok paused, looking on wondering if they were trying what he thought they would do. He didn’t have to wait long to confirm that yes, in fact, they were. He stepped closer. “Ladies, we all have to head home now. We can’t keep the Hojang waiting,” Hoseok said a little cutely.

“We are just talking, come join us,” one of the guards said. “The more the merrier.”

Hoseok was guided over, he would have smacked away the guard’s hand on his lower back but it would reveal his identity.

He tried to squirm from the older man’s grasp. He smelt like alcohol. Amongst the women was Seojin, standing there looking concerned as he was eyed by the plethora of strong men.

Seokjin looked at Hye-Seong, he didn’t know why but he was tense. On a regular day, he was always unbothered, he was taught that as a nobleman there should be nothing he feared, not even death.

Why did he feel so vulnerable? This was so unlike him. It was like he couldn’t say or do anything as one of the men pointed out how ‘cute’ he was while sliding his hand down Seokjin’s back.

He felt a sense of dread, he honestly had never felt so scared in his life. Scared of what these men might do to him, what they might do when they found out. He was spared from any horrors he could think of when he heard a familiar voice, one that he usually cowered under.

There she was, the hojang. She slowly closed her parasol and fastened it shut with a ribbon, before looking at the girls. “Head back home and you can start the dinner preparations early,” she smiled reassuringly.

Hye-Seong gestured for the girls to go and Seokjin took a moment trying to muster the courage to leave. “Seojin, head back.” A soft hand landed on his broad shoulder, the Hojang was smaller than him and Seokjin had no idea how strong she was but she looked at him and he knew nothing could hurt him.

Walking away he looked back and felt a swell of admiration for the woman who didn’t bow in front of the palace officials. They stepped forward and he felt scared once more, she did in fact look smaller in front of them despite never faltering.

Seokjin and Hoseok waited behind the Hojang, the two floundering on whether to go for help or to stand in her place. Suddenly, three figures barged past Seokjin with determination. Jimin, Yoonji, and Jeong-suk were all shoulders and fists stepping in front of the Hojang.

“Ya, you have a problem?” Jimin’s voice was sweet and yet laced heavy with warning. It took the men by surprise as Jimin moved like he was dancing but ended up driving one of the men’s faces into the ground. Still, with his sweet expression, he said with a sense of finality, “We will be going home now.”

It took a long time for Jungkook to get used to having people around his age constantly in his presence. He never had any big brother figures, it was just him and his father and they mostly worked in the shop. Of course, Jungkook’s father taught him many important life lessons, and he was thankful for them.

There was just something that grew in Jungkook like he had been locked up in his mind when he was working in the blacksmiths. It took a long time but eventually, Jungkook felt his shell break, and all his thoughts and feelings could be let out and expressed.

Nurtured by the open and honest environment in the kisaeng, he found himself no longer hiding away from the women, but instead connecting with them. Jungkook always took laundry duty for his sleeping quarter; he loved the smell of the clean fabrics and he also enjoyed the time with the women by the stream.

One would start singing to pass the time and the others would join in, they each made songs and they would sing it a few times until it felt right. Of course, Jungkook had his favorites and he would sing them as he strolled around the enclosed gardens.

Just one day, if I can be with you, Just one day, if I can hold your hands, Just one day, if I can be with you Just one day, just one day If only we can be together

For some, it was easy to adjust to the new way of life, for Taehyung it was not, with an abundance of energy he tried his best to expel it all. At first, he found a ball, and he and Jimin went outside to kick it around but were scolded by the Hojang who said “Women shouldn’t be seen doing anything masculine,” and apparently that included running around, playing sports, or just anything Taehyung deemed fun.

It wasn’t for lack of trying; Taehyung would find a new activity and a new area in the house or in the inner courtyard. He would barely set up or have a few moments of fun before he heard the voice that haunted him even in his dreams.

“Taeyeon, follow me,” Taehyung sighed, dropping the small ball he had been kicking between him and some of the young girls, perhaps he was a bit of a bad influence. He walked slowly after the Hojang. Mentally cursing her and stepping quickly in an effort to step on the back of her skirt so she would trip but she was too quick.

She led him into a small room he hadn’t seen before and he got nervous; was he being punished for disobeying the rules? He eyed the bamboo cane in her hand while she moved about the room and made up two desks. She placed a sweet flower arrangement on one and a stiff parchment pinned to a board on the other.

“Sit and watch, and then I will let you have a go. I promise you will have fun.” She explained how to grind the dyes and how to mix them perfectly before she began painting the flowers within the vase.

Taehyung was fascinated by the way the picture came to life, although there was a moment of confusion and doubt before it all came together. She spoke slowly, describing her technique. “You will develop your own technique that will feel right to you. Feel free to come here often and practice, let out your energy.”

“I can?” He seemed excited.

“A lady can do dainty activities, ones that are seen as beautiful and feminine.” She said softly.

“Why do you have so many rules?” He blurted out and winced, ready for a scolding but only felt a soft pat on his head.

“They aren’t my rules, no man will marry these ladies if they don’t meet these basic standards. Ask any man who they want to marry; they want someone who cooks and cleans, who doesn’t speak too much and is beautiful and feminine.” She sighed, “I would teach them how to read and write, but they are not expected to. I would teach them to fight and protect themselves but then they will not be seen as desirable young flowers, they would have too many thorns.”

Taehyung nodded slowly, and following the Hojang’s directions, began setting up his paints and parchment. He was allowed to paint whatever he wished. When he was done he frowned. “It doesn’t look nice.”

“What do you mean? Look at the depth you created here, you have such a good style, Taeyeon. Keep drawing until you grow comfortable and like what you have painted, but I will keep this one. Your first painting is precious.” She began to leave, “Don’t stay up too long, you have more lessons tomorrow.”

“Miss Hojang, I have a question?” Taehyung's voice was soft and curious as he turned away from the canvas. “If you could do anything that you ever wanted, what would it be?”

“Goodnight Taehyung,” she gave a small chuckle, smiling for the first time since Taehyung met her, and his opinion changed at that moment. She wasn’t as evil as he first thought.

It wasn’t long until Taehyung had told the whole group about the hojang; how she was actually a really considerate woman, who had nothing but good intentions for the girls she was protecting.

The boys talked about how the expectations were so unfair, that the girls should learn how to protect themselves and they should be educated. “I wish I could just teach them how to defend themselves,” Jimin hummed. “I learned from a young age how to fight, I could definitely show them some things.”

“I could teach them how to read and write, you could teach them how to fight,” The idea sparked inside Namsoon, they headed off to the hojang to present the idea, who agreed to their proposal.

Jimin led the class through the stretches thanking the girls for their cooperation, he had been teaching for two months and the girls were getting rather good. They really loved these new classes, they were so unlike what they were used to. It was hard for Jimin to teach his class in a dress but he made it work. Jimin had never felt prouder when he heard of stories of the ladies in the tea house defending themselves and others against rowdy patrons.

He also helped Hye-Seong with his dance practice, it seemed he really liked the class. Hyeseong mentioned to Jimin after their first dance class how he had never felt freer in his life, and after a few more, Hyeseong was moving his body freely to the music.

Jimin loved the idea that his friends enjoyed things that could be considered feminine, just like the things he liked. Maybe he wasn’t odd for liking dancing if his friends enjoyed art and simple house chores and cooking.

Yoongi had snuck out to speak with his father not because he particularly cared for the man, but he just knew his father would be angry if he didn’t report to him. He was climbing over the fence when he heard a cough behind him. “Yoonji where are you going?” Jeongsuk asked in a tiny voice.

“I have to see my father,” he spoke softly, trying not to wake anyone else up, “You should go back to bed.”

“I will come with you,” Jeongsuk smiled, climbing over the fence with Yoongi who sighed. The two walked along the dirt road until they arrived at the butchers.

“Wait here, Jeongsuk,” Yoongi spoke seriously, and quietly gestured to the spot just outside the lights of the street lamps. “I will be back.”

“My name is Jungkook,” He grabbed the sleeve of Yoongi’s jeogori before he pulled it off and helped him change into his masculine clothes and tied his hair up. “I know we aren’t supposed to tell each other our names but I need to say it, I need to feel like me for a little bit.”

“Yoongi,” he patted the younger boy's head, “Stay here Jungkook.”

He walked inside, nervous to see his father, and to hear what he would say. Meeting his father’s gaze across the room of laughing drunk men, his father stood up looking as harsh as always. “Where did you run off to?”

“The officials came, they were killing everyone, I just went off for a bit until they lost me.”

“Where have you been, you look awfully clean.” A slur drew Yoongi’s eyes from his father. Yoongi knew he would have to answer truthfully or he would be found out and beaten.

“I was hiding at the Kisaeng house,” he sighed.

“At the kisaeng house?” his father said. “What, are you pretending to be a girl?”

“Yes, I am,” he said, ears a little pink, and perhaps he should have just taken the beating.

“No son of mine is dressing as a woman!” His father shooed Yoongi, his hand pointing to the door. “Get out, I didn’t raise you to become a whore.”

“I only used it as a place to hide, I am back now.” Yoongi sighed nonchalantly, trying to get his father to calm down.

“If you don’t get out, I will kick your ass,” his father said, taking long strides until he was towering over his son. “I didn’t raise you for twenty-six years only to have you acting like some delicate flower. You always looked too much like your mother.” He raised his hand to hit Yoongi. Without flinching or shying away Yoongi waited for impact but it never came. A hand had clasped around his father's wrist.

“Hey, let’s just go back,” Jungkook said, letting go of the butcher’s hand then towing a struggling Yoongi behind him.

“Let me go,” Yoongi hissed as they were walking back to the house. “He was right, I am a disgrace, why am I prancing around in dresses when I am a man?”

“NO!” Jungkook grabbed the older man, thankful that he was stronger. “If there is one thing I have learned about my stay here, it is that women aren’t weak, they aren’t to be looked down on.”

“Good for you, I don’t need this disrespect.”

“Why do you care so much about what your father and those bad men think, you know they are scum. You aren’t, Yoongi. You left and you are a good person,” Jungkook protested.

“Did you not see what was on the tables?” Jungkook said. “Land deeds, they are strong-arming women and children from their homes, taking ownership of land that isn’t theirs. We must use what we have to our advantage.”

“What do we have, dancing and the ability to pour drinks for men.”

“I don’t know but if we don’t do something, your father and those men will only make things worse, you have nowhere else to go.”

How Jungkook got Yoongi to come back with him he would never know but he was thankful he did. As the two climbed over the wall to the kisaeng house, they were unaware of a pair of eyes watching them.

Summers End 1654 Hanseong,

Things have gotten worse. The officials have suspected someone in the kisaeng house is a man, it won’t be long before they send someone to investigate. We are trying to figure out how we can hide them and their extra appendages, but the situation doesn’t seem very hopeful. If things keep going the way they are, the town will become slaves to the merchants and no woman or child will be safe from their wrath.

Yeong-hui (Hojang of the Kisaeng house)

There was an abrupt knock at the door, startling the Hojang. She sat up and began dressing, as a woman should never be seen underdressed, then she opened the door. The steward bowed low before relaying a message. “There are officials at the front gate, asking to enter the premise.”

Yeong-hui didn’t waste any time. Tying her hair as she walked, looking regal as always, she stopped at the front gate and signaled for the doors to be opened.

“Miss Yeong-hui, we have heard multiple rumors that the Kisaeng house is harboring a fugitive from war—” one of the officials started.

“I will stop you right there,” Yeong-hui interrupted. “You have the right to search the property only when my girls have woken and dressed appropriately. It is perverse for you to even insinuate that I would allow you to enter while they are sleeping. You shall be allowed entry in when the sunlight reaches the Jing (gong) in the town center.”

Yeong-hui gestured behind them to the Jing and the man went to argue.

“No exceptions. Cooperate, or when you find there is no fugitive within these walls that you have barged into for nothing more than a story,” she eyed their Baji (lower part of a man’s hanbok), “well then I guess I could use a few more eunuch’s to help with chores now, don’t I?”

The men squirmed and the man leading the search party faltered.

“I would also like to see the confirmation letter from the king as I want proof you are allowed to step foot into my home,” Yeong-Hui added.

“Fine, we will get permission from the King. We will return at the specified time and nothing will stop us searching the premise and the ‘girls’ within the walls,” the leader of the search squad huffed before steering his men away from the front gate.

Yeong-hui headed inside, waking the young women early. She raced to the secluded sleeping quarters where the boys were staying. She saw them all sleeping haphazardly and smiled fondly.

She saw Taehyung wrapped around Namjoon, he was upside down on the older boy's futon hugging his calves, his face pressed between the scholar's ankles. Jungkook had his torso draped over Hoseok’s legs and his foot dangerously close to Seokjin’s face. Jimin’s head was on the eldest’s wide shoulders and even though Yoongi was the first away his pale thin arm stretched across the futon and was sweetly held in Jimin’s grasp.

They had all grown so much and had learned important life lessons that she was happy to be a part of their growth.

Without a moment longer, she woke the boys with a clap and a call. “Ladies, it is time to get up, the officials are sending a search party to find any man hidden within the kisaeng house.” She said, and what happened next was like a flash of lightning before the deep rumble of thunder. The boys jolted out of their beds, then a barrage of young girls burst through the doors, clutching bags of makeup, hair accessories, and armsful of fabric.

“You have to get up and get ready, the officials are coming!” Some of the ladies shouted, helping the men get dressed without batting an eyelash, ignoring the fact that they were all practically shirtless. Yeong-hui smiled softly, it seemed she had underestimated the ladies, how they had found out about the boys, and even took care of them.

It was pleasant to see them all coming together. If only they could change the way men and women interacted, if only they could show women were more intelligent and stronger than they were perceived to be.

The Kisaeng house started breakfast early. Yeong-hui explained that she would have the girls present themselves to the officials one by one and each of the boys would be placed randomly in between the girls. It would draw too much attention if the odd-looking ladies were to meet the officials one after another.

The officials came and started their interrogation. After the first group of girls was individually interviewed and scrutinized, Seokjin headed inside. If anyone could pass, it would be him. The Hojang smiled, sitting on a magnificent seat at the head of the table while the officials were off to the side, on less elaborate cushions.

“This is the beautiful Seojin, she has become the best cook in the house,” Yeong-hui smiled, and the officials blushed when Seojin blew them a kiss after taking a seat gracefully.

“Alright, next” the official stuttered after receiving a wink. Seokjin had passed.

After the next group of girls, Jimin walked into the room. As his long elegant legs strode in, there was a presence around him that made all the officials tense. He moved with allure and as he sat in perfect posture, the sleeve of his Jeogori slipped revealing a dainty shoulder and sensual clavicle.

The officials were sweating profusely, shifting in their seats. “This is Jimin, she is a dancer would you like to see?” The Hojang gestured for Jimin to begin, and Jimin started moving slowly with a delicate wave of the fan.

The officials were quick to decide and Jimin raced off smiling coyly. Another group passed and this time Hoseok came in, acting cute and charming the men. Yoongi’s turn then came, and his small frame and soft features helped him pass. When it came to Taehyung, he gave the officials his powerful gaze and devilishly said, “I can show you that I am a woman, if you want,” while playing with the hem of his skirt.

Yeong-hui was almost in stitches; something about the way these boys shamelessly flirted for their freedom had her choking back her laughter. Namjoon stepped in wearing a soft veil. “Miss Namsoon is quite a shy girl but she loves when some of the visitors to the tea house read to her.”

“Men such as yourselves would be ever so popular and have gardens of beautiful flowers for you to pick. But there is a part of me who wishes that I may be the sweet flower that you might choose.” Namjoon giggled slightly making the men nervous with such forward words “That I could be the one to make you smile. The one who can make a long day feel like it was nothing when you come home.”

Last was Jungkook who sang a song he had made to the group of men and talked about making friends whilst doing the laundry. Jungkook was allowed to leave and the men finished their search of the property before leaving, albeit a little flustered and a little sheepish for their antics earlier that morning.

The house was lively for the young women who had sensed the weight of the interviews and therefore felt the celebratory relief. Yeong-hui allowed the boys to run around and play freely; they and a few young women began kicking a ball around the inner courtyard.

As the group dwindled, Yoongi was left sitting on the porch, his head tilted back, eyes shut enjoying the breeze. Yeong-hui grabbed a bottle of the Park family's best soju and two ceramic glasses, then moved across the hand-polished wooden floor before sitting down, legs dangling over the edge beside Yoongi.

“You care for a drink?” Yeong-hui smiled softly waving the bottle in her hand. Yoongi nodded, moving to take the bottle as he was younger, but she began pouring for him. She poured elegantly and effortlessly, making no mistake as if she was demonstrating in front of the class.

Yoongi thanked her politely and the two began drinking in silence. It didn’t take long for Yoongi to spill all his troubles, expressing his struggles from the beginning.

“I can’t touch him, I will have to leave the town, my father won’t allow me to stay. He has a pile of land deeds so even if I found a place somewhere, he likely owns it.” Yoongi downed the next glass. “I could show him how good women are, that they aren’t delicate flowers, that they can plot and scheme and m I could probably steal the land deeds right from under his nose.”

“Well, why don’t we do just that?” Yeong-hui smiled, and the two began plotting an elaborate coup to retrieve the land deeds. Yeong-hui walked slowly, leading Yoongi back to his quarters but when they got close, they could hear Seokjin’s voice shouting.

“I knew it! I knew those words sounded familiar! You have been reading my letters?” Seokjin said “...have gardens of beautiful flowers for you to pick. But there is a part of me who wishes that I may be the sweet flower that you might choose.”

Hoseok was cackling and pointed out, “he didn’t read them, he is the one who wrote them!”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asked, his voice almost dying down.

“The women in town would pay me to write love letters addressed to you,” Namjoon said cautiously, and the group laughed.

Autumn Chuseok (Harvest festival) 1654 Hanseong,

It took a lot of planning and preparation but everyone was willing and ready to do their job. Tonight was the Chuseok festival; the tea house was open and the ladies of the kisaeng walked the streets dressed elaborately, inviting men inside to drink at a fee.

Usually, each young woman would bring in men who looked like they were of noble status. They were advised to stay clear of any man wearing the bandit emblem. Tonight, however, it was encouraged. The unsavory men were led inside and shown all the respects of a nobleman if not more. The women were working undercover and they weren’t going to let the operation down.

Within the tea house were Seokjin, Yoongi, and Jungkook. While working, Yoongi was explaining who was who, and soon they had their targets. The boys split up, getting to work trying to impress the merchants, and having them each pay more and more money for some alcohol.

Yoongi as Yoonji was making quick work of his targets, whispering filthy things in their ears and having them drink until they were inebriated. Then he took their coin pouches and moved on to the next unsuspecting victim, who was also a member of his father’s gang.

Across town, Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok, accompanied by a handful of the kisaeng, headed to Yoongi’s father's home. Jimin was quick to move up the side of the building, slipping upstairs while the men were drinking boisterously downstairs. Jimin was light-footed and found the small box hidden just as Yoongi had described.

He took the box, it was heavy with deeds, gold, and more, and as he moved to escape, he bumped his foot on the side of the table.

“Did you hear that?”

Jimin froze.

“Good evening would you men be interested in going to the kisaeng tea house? We have many delicious festival snacks for you to try?” Taehyung said playfully and the men blushed to see a group of women poking their heads into the butcher’s home.

The men looked flustered and eventually refused to say they had to stay and take care of the place. Jimin was able to escape and the group graciously began heading back to the kisaeng house.

They were almost back safe within the kisaeng walls when they heard a shout.

“Hey!” The group froze, Jimin hiding with the box in the middle of the group. “You dropped this” The man smiled, blushing profusely having to talk to a stunning Taehyung.

Taehyung took his handkerchief and smiled, “thank you.” The group continued on their way, hurrying inside the house where they met Namjoon, working hard over a desk.

In the days leading to the coup, Namjoon and Yeong-hui had taken a census of families within the village. They found that the gang had been procuring land for many years before the war.

Namjoon, with the newly acquired land deeds from Yoongi’s father’s house, was now dividing land and profits, ensuring each family would have a home and land to live on.

The next morning, the members of the gang were regretful of their night and were in foul moods. Yoongi’s father marched to the kisaeng house and began pounding his fists on the doors, demanding to enter the premises.

Yeong-hui signaled the doors to be opened, and the man entered, alone. He stepped forward, looking at the group of women dressed in baji and holding weapons. The man spotted Yoongi standing on the far end of the inner courtyard.

Yeong-hui walked through the group of women until she stood in front of Yoongi who was dressed as a woman and was not at all ashamed. “You stole from me, you little rat?” Yoongi nodded. His father’s face was bright red, “I will kill you!”

The women moved with a loud cry and the man faltered, releasing a mocking laugh. “You think you can hurt me?”

“Yes, I believe we can,” Jimin smiled, standing in front of the women, just in case the man was an unexpected fighter. He was a street merchant after all and they weren’t known for fighting fair. However, it seemed the women were holding their own, as they started knocking the man to the ground.

Spring 1655 Hanseong,

With the power restored, the people are thriving, the women are stronger than ever. The land is now divided, ensuring there are better harvests and more trade among the vendors. I have been working to teach the girls in the kisaeng how to read and write, training them to be scholars. Seokjin and I are planning to present the young women in front of the king, as well-educated scholars.

Seokjin has been around a lot. Having perfected his cooking skills, he happily teaches the women his favorite dishes. Something about being free and independent and able to make his food makes the man happy. He likes how free he feels, admitting he originally thought it was the women who were free to do whatever they wanted but he was wrong.

Yoongi has found he has a real talent for playing some of the instruments, and he and Jungkook spend their days making songs. Hoseok and Jimin enjoy dancing and are some of the best dancers, and Jimin also spends his time teaching the young ladies how to defend themselves. Jungkook has made light-weight weapons for the women who find themselves in the ways of fighting.

Taehyung teaches Art and keeps things in the kisaeng house light with sports and games. It wasn’t long before a new age began, the age of female growth.

Let’s just say when the fathers, brothers, and husbands return home from war they will be in for quite a shock, as every family now owns the land and the land deeds are under the women’s names. The women are all stronger, smarter, and happier.

Every day the Hojang fights to liberate her girls more and more, we help however we can even if we have to dress up as women to do it. As for the Hojang, Miss Yeong-hui, whose name means eternal play, she has changed her name to Jester. She is now working on a project to use some of the young women trained to fight for future espionage.

Kim Namjoon

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spellnbone · 3 years

Photo

Contrary to what some people think at first sight of his description, Edgar is not someone who rejects emotions. He might be driven by a mind that craves logic, but his heart is a loyal one and contributes to his decisions greatly. Following positive nihilistic philosophies, he knows the importance of love, of loving, and of living in the moment freely. This being said, while he does enjoy a night full of quick-lived romance, he is mainly a terrible serial monogamist.

Age Fourteen - Ainsley

He was in year four when the kids around him began trying things out. Drinking, flirting, kissing. Removed from everyone as he was at that time, he saw no reason to participate, but when he heard that Amelia too had played such games at a recent party, he grew jealous. The two were still in a process of detaching themselves from the other and the idea to be so purposefully excluded from her adventures lit an angry little fire inside of him.

So he stomped up to one of his (very few) friends, Ainsley, who was herself reading a book in a corner at a Ravenclaw party, and prepared a whole speech about why logically it’s of fundamental use to try some of those games yourself, for the sake of both philosophical and physiological development, and then -- never got a single word out. Instead he just pressed a kiss to her mouth.

“Thank you.” “You’re welcome.”

And they never spoke of it again.

Age Fifteen - Tsi / Fabian

It was in a similar line of thinking that Tsi, a Slytherin, chose Edgar to be her boyfriend. They’d been transfig partners for almost three months, working on a project together, and eventually she decided he’d be good for snogging. Seeing how Amelia, too, just had gotten a boyfriend, Edgar wasn’t very hesitant to agree. He thought it rather agreeable that Tsi didn’t care about his opinions or wishes and just told him what to do, when and how, as it at least alleviated any form of awkwardness -- and taught him a lot.

She broke up with him when the Summer holidays came, with the words: “You’re probably gay anyway.” He was a little upset as to how one could possibly come to such a conclusion, and then spent the Summer drunk and making out with Fabian.

Age Seventeen and Eighteen - Wandering Philosophers

After graduation, Dell invited Edgar to join his little group of Wandering Philosophers. If one has ever seen one of those Summer of Love hippie bus drug montages, one can image what this year abroad was like for Edgar. It was perhaps 1971 and not 1967 but that did not stop the excess of free love and free drugs.

By the end of the year, Edgar had made more experiences than his mind cared to remember, had massively changed his opinions on friendship and other people, and had -- somehow managed to find a steady girlfriend?

Age Nineteen - Janis

Said steady girlfriend came with him back to Hastings. It’s not entirely clear what came first, her or the end of Edgar’s travels, but either way, the moment he’d spoken his first I Love You, he knew he wanted her to come to England with him. As he worked for the West Sussexian Wizarding Paper, they rented a small apartment by the sea, and he was the happiest one could be.

She was not. The American Witch often hinted at him how small the world had become, how the routines felt so terribly familiar, how there was no newness anymore -- and he thought she meant it in a positive way. It turned out, she didn’t. When Edgar stumbled upon Ainsley one day, she suggested he’d join the Daily Prophet in London, and when he told this to Janis, her cry of relief was great.

“Yes, please, Edgar, go!” she said, and in between words of reassurance that she did love him, that she just hated the small town life, she was already packing her own bags.

Age Twenty to Twenty-Two - Lucienne

It took a while for Edgar to recover from Janis basically fleeing from him, but it was all the easier now that he’d moved to London and was close to Amelia. The two had barely been in contact since graduation, and while he’d done nothing but smoke weed and discuss heatedly if Camus or Sartre were superior, she’d worked herself up to the top of the Ministry of Magic. He couldn’t be prouder. But as he waited for their very different lifestyles to clash, they only grew closer and closer again.

This process was brusquely interrupted when Edgar met Lucienne. She was an actress from one of the underground Wizarding Theatres he wrote about regularly, and (as he’d written in one of his reviews) she needn’t no spotlight to make her shine. She was a bright firework herself, wherever she went, people turned heads, and Edgar never fully understood what she saw in him, why she picked him.

But it mustn’t have been pity, for she was the one to suggest he move in with her. The fact that their greatest obsession was also their common interest helped. While Edgar joined the Order and had his mind growing clouded with the dangers of this war, Lucienne always managed to remind him of the world’s beauty as well. They could rehearse, discuss and analyse plays for hours and hours without it ever growing boring, and while the city outside grew dark, at least inside their apartment Lucienne’s light illuminated everything brightly.

Age Twenty Three - London

It was in the Fall of his twenty-second year that Edgar witnessed the first death of someone close in the Order. Some even said he’d been the cause for it. It changed something in him. After the funeral he saw Caradoc cry for the first time. Had the two hated each other up until that point, something connected them over the grave of their friend. Edgar brought him home, not to Lucienne, but to Amelia. They told her about the Order and about their loss, and till this day, Edgar is not sure why he chose Amelia to comfort them. Perhaps if he hadn’t, if he’d brought Caradoc to Lucienne (who was, after all, an anti-bloodpurism activist) everything would’ve been different now.

But as it were, he stayed with Amelia for days, perhaps weeks, incapable to face Lucienne again, until, about a month later, she sent him his things. No letter, nothing attached. Just a clear sign: they were over.

This was the only time that he and Amelia shared a flat, and along with the truth of his political endeavours, this truly sealed their relationship with wax. Ever since having been sorted into two different houses at Hogwarts, they’d slowly but surely grown apart, but now it was as though they were in Mexico all over again. They cooked together, went out together, slept together -- that is in the same bed, of course. Sometimes they brought home someone from a pub, but it was never until they fully reached the bedroom that it became apparent for who that person was meant for. Amelia? Edgar? Neither? Both? Either way, the moment the person was gone the next day (or same night -- after all, the Bones twins were quite good at being hostile to unwanted people) they were clinging together again.

It was during this time that Edgar remembered why he’d changed his writing hand from left to right, once upon a time: it was to hold Amelia’s at all times.

Age Twenty-Three to Twenty-Five - Genevieve

(Un)fortunately, there were still moments they had to spend apart, namely at work. And it was during work (visiting a Muggle play on Drury Lane) that Edgar met Genevieve. She was different from anyone he’d ever met. She was of royal blood and knew her manners, spoke of luxuries and her own charities with ease, while at the same time showing no sign of vanity or arrogance. She loved theatre and due to being a Muggle, knew nothing about the war that was slowly but surely devouring Edgar’s mind.

Edgar realised quickly that if he wanted to keep up with her, he needed to leave Amelia. And so it came that only after about three months of dating, Genevieve bought them an apartment and they moved in together. He was enamored by her every move, every word, every sight. He was incapable of reviewing any plays but romances, began writing terrible poetry himself and -- neglected everyone but her. Had Amelia been the center point of his life only half a year ago, he now barely remembered to reply to her letters, and was the war still raging, he struggled to see its somber colours through his pink glasses.

So it came, that when it turned out that Genevieve was no Muggle at all, but a Muggleborn who’d chosen to live amongst Muggles, something changed. On the one hand, he loved her even more, now capable to show her the House of Bones and introduce her to his family, on the other hand he knew what this meant. And indeed, it didn’t take long until her family was attacked by Death Eaters. The family had once upon a time been closely connected with a family from the Sacred 28, but after the Statue of Secrecy had been established, the ties had been cut. However this didn’t change the fact that the family knew of the Wizarding World, being reminded of it ever so often whenever a new magical child was born.

“My family is in danger and I don’t know what to do.” “Have you heard of the Order of the Phoenix?”

It was the first time Edgar told someone about the Order, other than Amelia. But while Genevieve thought he’d now ask her to join the fight (she was eager to), he told her about this pilot project of theirs, about taking in refugees and helping them to flee.

“You want me to leave?” He wanted to say no, because never had he loved someone as earnestly and deeply as her, but he said “Yes,” and she was too noble and dignified to fight. After all, it really was the smartest decision.

Age Twenty-Six - Tsi

Yes, Tsi from Year Five. What happened in between Genevieve and the heartbreak she caused and Tsi, should be of no mystery anymore: Amelia. They didn’t officially live together this time as she had her own boyfriend, but they still very much spent every waking moment together. Eventually the boyfriend left. Neither of them really acknowledged it. What mattered was that Amelia forgave Edgar for leaving her so suddenly, and he promised to never to it again.

About four months later, Tsi found Edgar. She had barely changed. She was still a fierce and stubborn Slytherin, hungry for power and control, and all too earnest about her urges and desires. So Edgar, still nursing his heartbreak, was willing to submit himself to her demands once more. She was so different from Genevieve it was easy to forget her in Tsi’s commands and willful ideas.

It ended abruptly when Edgar learnt she agreed with Voldemort’s ideas.

Age Twenty-Seven - London Again

Once again heartbroken, Edgar found himself with Amelia again as well. But this time she made him promise to never hurt her again properly.

“No one must come between us again.” “No one will, I promise.”

Amelia was by now an affiliate of the Order and because Edgar was almost certain that the Other Side knew his face and name, he didn’t want to put Amelia in danger by living with her. So he got his own apartment, a little thing in Muggle China Town, and on the nights he doesn’t spend with Amelia or working, he does bring people home. He cannot stand sleeping alone anymore, the silence causing his thoughts to spiral terribly.

So it doesn’t really matter who that warm body is, he’s content as long as he can nestle up to it at night. Sometimes it’s a good friend, drunk, like Fabian, who needs a place to crash, and sometimes it’s a stranger, who Edgar makes sure not to learn anything about, out of fear to fall in love again.

#{ it’s rotten work }#m:amelia #m:ainsley #m:fabian #m:caradoc #intro #npc: tsi #npc: gen #npc: lucienne #npc: janis #i mean i say npc but if anyone wants to play one of edgars ex gfs.............#{ wisdom begins in wonder }#also i THINK i did a pretty good job at incorporating timeline and headcanons we discussed but uhhhhh #if i fucked up lemme know and i fix

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djarinbarnes · 4 years

Text

Promise? II

Author: Dina

Word Count: 3118

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: angst, funeral... childbirth.

masterpost

December 1943

The memorial and burial of Bucky and his comrades was beautiful. You were allowed to see his casket before the service, and you had cherished every moment. You told him about everything that had happened, how the little one inside your womb had started kicking when you talked about him, and how it would nudge against your hand as you held it while you cried.

You had brought along a small teddy, holding it closely to your belly as the pastor said his words for the fallen soldiers. Tears slid down your cheeks as you watched the ceremony. Some of the widows were motioned to say their goodbyes. You felt your heart sink deeper into the darkness as you were approached by an elderly woman, her smile apologetic.

“It’s time to say goodbye, darling.” she said, and you broke down. Hearing the nickname from her lips plunged deep into your heart, the realization that you would never hear Bucky call you that again clouding your mind. You sobbed in agony, hands squeezing the teddy bear tighter. You weren’t ready to say goodbye. You never would be.

You approached his casket slowly, clutching the teddy, feeling a swift nudge against your ribs. You inhaled deeply, finding some comfort in the life growing inside you. You laid your hand on the white surface, sliding your hand over the soft curve. You leaned down, your lips resting on the cold exterior, channeling all your love into the top. Your forehead came to rest just over where your lips had laid.

“I love you, Bucky. We love you.” you whispered as your tears fell softly on the white exterior. You kissed the surface again, leaving your lips lingering for just a short while. Images of Bucky flooded the back of your eyelids.

Bucky admiring his favorite painting at the Met. Bucky kissing the back of your hand. Bucky tagging you along through Central Park, showing you his favorite spot. Bucky leaning in to kiss you softly, your first. Bucky in the soft glow of the sunset. Bucky on top of you, making love to you. Bucky. Bucky. Bucky.

You brought the soft plush to your lips and exhaled through your nose, mind clouded with Bucky. You placed the teddy bear on top of the casket, along with another kiss. You pulled away as the tears kept streaming down your face, hands coming up to embrace your growing bump. You winced as a shot rang through the graveyard, followed by another. In honor of our fallen soldiers.

“(Y/n) Barnes?” you whipped around when a male voice spoke up behind you.

“Yes?” you managed to croak out.

“I’m Sergeant Roone.” he told you, laying a hand on your arm. “I fought alongside your husband. He was a brave man.” he stilled for a moment. You embraced him tightly, tearing up yet again.

“I’m so sorry Sergeant. It must have been awful for you, out there. What you had to see..” You bit back another sob as he held you out at an arm's length.

“My sweet girl, nothing compares to the loss you’re feeling.” he motioned to your stomach and you nodded. You felt his hand on the side of your stomach, and you sighed. “He was always talking about you. I wish you could have seen him when he read your letters. His face always lit up, when the mail came.“ you sobbed as you felt your heart flutter in your chest. “I was lucky enough that I got to travel with the… fallen.. out of there. I don’t know what else would’ve happened if I hadn’t,” you laid your hand over his and mustered a smile at him.

“Sergeant Roone, thank you for your service.” you told him with a grateful squeeze on top of his hand. “Do you know if Bucky got my last letters?” you asked, wanting to know if he died knowing.

“I do not, unfortunately. But that was the reason I approached you. We managed to salvage your letters from the site. And one on your husband when we found him. We figured he was writing when he fell before the enemy.” He pulled out a stack of letters, handing them over to you. You felt your heart halt, and skip a beat.

“Oh my god.” you whispered, feeling a sting in your heart. Here they were. The letters. Your letters. His last letter? You felt the tears well up in your eyes as you embraced Bucky’s comrade in another hug. “You don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you so much Sergeant.”

You came home that evening feeling defeated. You had the letters he had sent you tucked away in a box under your bed. When a day rolled around where you missed him too much, you would read them over and over again. And you read them many times. The loss of the love of your life was unbearing, and you missed him so much your heart stung in your chest.

Today was one of those days. You quietly found the box under your bed, softly caressing your hard bump. It was February soon, and the symbol of your love would soon be born into this world. The nearing of the date was almost painful, and with every day passing, you felt the dreading grow larger. You didn’t want to do this without your Bucky by your side.

You had moved into Bucky’s apartment shortly before he shipped out, your mother coming to visit you almost every day. You shuffled to your couch, settling down softly against the back of it, wincing at the discomfort. You pulled out the first letter and slid it out of the envelope, already tearing up by looking at the neat handwriting that belonged to your late husband.

May 27th 1943

My dearest, darling (y/n).

I know that I left barely a week ago, but I already miss you so dearly.

Some of our chaps received their marching orders tonight and tomorrow they’re going to the Dr.s’ to be examined for the front. Some of them expect to leave for England on Saturday.

I know you were distraught when I left that morning, and I deeply wish I could’ve stayed with you, held you and loved you forever. I will love you forever though, but for now, I will love you from a distance. That morning I couldn’t make out what was up, whether you didn’t want to say something that someone might’ve heard or if you felt like something was up with me?

I know you wanted to say something but couldn’t bring yourself to it, but please don’t ever keep anything from me, my love. What pains you, pains me.

Now my love, I must sleep. It’s a warm night tonight, and all I can think of is the warmth you fill my heart with.

Goodnight for now.

I love you.

Your Bucky.

A sob left your lips as you read over the last two lines again and again.

I love you.

Your Bucky.

I love you.

Your Bucky.

You packed away the first letter and found the next one. It slid out of the envelope easily, and you sniffled.

June 8th 1943

Dear, lovely (y/n).

What have you been doing today? I suppose you’ve read your favorite book, or listened to your favorite Billie Holiday record. I miss you so much.

As you probably have heard, we’re in England now. It’s nice here so far. Almost doesn’t feel like war. One of the chaps has just come in the room feeling a little better than good, if you know what that means, and is trying to get into bed. It is just the sort of thing to make one think and wonder how men came make such fools of themselves … I guess it is up to me to go over and take his clothes off now.

It’s strange, how different lives are. How different we want them to turn out. In all likelihood, I imagine a grand day, and I imagine ending up with my little doll and a kiss that I can feel now. Have I not much to be thankful for? Am I not lucky? And should not my life show this good fortune (if I may call it so) in many ways? There are some questions for you to help me in solving. I often ponder over them and can only see one course ahead.

But where am I taking you? Away off into philosophy, I suppose you would call it. I’d like to call it Life. The grand, the noble, the fascinating problem of living. Sometimes, you know, I think that I could be happy, yes truly happy, away off far from the bother of human uproar, hidden away in some place of grandeur alone with you.

You have pictured it to me and I can see it, but, no darling, that would not be true happiness. I’m sure we would both tire of it in a very short while. It would be gorgeous and lovely for a time, but I think there would be a longing for a something that was not there.

I like sometimes to think of a different scene, perhaps something like this: a room filled with books and all the necessities of a library and you, I and our child reading Alice in Wonderland together. We are all tired, for it is after a strenuous day, and oh how we are enjoying it and are happy as happy can be.

I know this is longer than what you’re used to, but I’ve just missed you so much lately and all this writing is letting me unravel my thoughts to you. I’ve almost forgotten what you like me to say, what you want me to say and what I want to say myself.

One thing I do remember though, is that I love you.

Your Bucky.

You smiled at the thought of the two of you reading Alice in Wonderland again. You had read it aloud to him during the winter, and he had stared lovingly at your lips with every word that fell from them. You put the letter back into the envelope and pulled out the next one. You took a deep breath and wiped your cheeks.

July 1st 1943

My dear, sweet (y/n).

First and most important, I suppose that you have heard the news. This time I think that it is sure and that we will be on the frontline some time this side of Sunday. That is about all I can think of at present. It does not seem possible, after so many disappointments that we are really going. The boys seem to be going crazy; by tomorrow there will be no holding them. There is to be a parade of every man in the battery then and the news will come to us officially.

My, it’s so long since I have seen you and so long since I promised to write you and again so long since talking with you that it is hard to find much to write about. Writing is at its heart but a very poor apology for speech and when I think that it will be but a short time till I can tell you all the news.

Your Bucky.

You sniffled yet again, wiping your nose on your handkerchief. You picked up the next letter.

July 7th 1943

My darling (y/n).

We’re at the frontlines by now. I wish I could muster writing you more letters, but it always seems like there is never the time. I promise you, I will write to you soon.

I love you so much, my dear.

Your Bucky.

You sighed before putting it back into the envelope. You found the small package of letters, setting it on the table in front of you. You undid the string holding the letters together, removing the dog tags bound along with them. You looked through them, grasping the two last ones. You looked at your handwriting on the front of the last envelope, then turning it over slowly. It had been opened. He died knowing. You felt the tears well up in your eyes, putting the envelope down.

For the first time, you looked at Bucky’s last letter. You felt the acid burning your throat as you took in the dried red splatters on the folded piece of paper, and you slammed it down on the table before running to the kitchenette and emptying the contents of your stomach into your trash bin. You felt your cheeks wet with tears again, crying silently while hunched over in an uncomfortable position.

You rose and washed your hands, dreading the walk back to the table where you knew the blood-splattered letter was resting. You wiped the tears off your cheeks before softly padding over the floor, picking the letter up and unfolding it. Another sob tore through you, just seeing his handwriting.

August 16th 1943

My dearest, sweetest (y/n)

My dearest little treasure. I just could not help crying as I read what you had written and the tears rolled down my cheeks as I thanked God for having given me such a little treasure as you are. Two treasures, now.

Dearest, if I should lose you I dare not think what I should do! I love you so much and want you with all my heart and soul just for myself (and sprout, of course). I could be happy anywhere with you. Now more than ever. The seed inside of you is growing, and you are carrying our love inside of you.

My dearest (y/n), how much you have helped me so far. I used to think that perhaps it was not the right thing for me to “fall in love” when there was so much ahead of me. But as time went on, and I knew you better, those feelings gradually left me. You grew more and more into the woman I had imagined, more and more I watched your faith and admired your goodness for I can find no other word to express it; you had emerged in a simplicity and a purity, which was hard for me to realize.

Why all this? Well it was no temptation to you to have me holding you in my arms; you were innocent, you cured me with a pure and unsullied love. To have me with you was satisfying in itself. I never in my life have as tempted as with you. I think it was because I loved you from the start. I can still feel that there is more in love than many think.

It has taken me some time to pen all this; I could not talk to you in the same way. I would simply stumble over the words and not manage to say anything at all.

Now dearest, I think I will have to leave this for a while. Oh! I do pray that we will both be proud to be united again in health and strength and to work along our journey together. I cannot wait until you are in my arms again, along with our love brought into the world by you.

I love you so much my dear. And sprout as well. So much.

Your Bucky.

You clutched the letter tightly against your chest, crying until your throat couldn’t muster any more sounds. Your eyes itched terribly from the constant wetness, and as you looked up, you realized it was night. You had no recollection of how long you had been seated with the letter, simply crying.

As you laid back in bed that night, you pulled your legs up underneath you as you cradled your bump. You glanced over to the folded up American flag on your dresser, silver dog tags gleaming in the moonlight streaming through the window.

“Daddy loves you, sprout.” you whispered as you stroked the soft skin of your belly. “He loves you so much.” your body gave in to the exhaustion, falling into a sleepless slumber.

February 1944

January had been the slowest of the slowest. Every move you made was a painful waddle, every thought you thought was Bucky. He was everywhere. You sighed as you tried getting comfortable in the nest of pillows you had built, one between your legs and another under your head. The baby had limited it’s movements as January came to an end, and you were starting to get worried. You groaned in pain as you felt another contraction, the discomfort subsiding too slowly for your liking.

“Mom,” you managed to whimper, and she hurried to where you laid, stroking your forehead slowly.

“Shh, honey, it’s alright.” she managed to get your focus on her as your ragged breath strained your throat. “Breathe with me,” she guided your breathing to a steady, regular breathing as she held your hand. “That’s it, baby girl, good job.”

You smiled at her weakly, eyebrows furrowing together in a tight knot. You let out a muffled, pained groan as another contraction washed through you, and you felt the pressure moving downwards.

“Mom, it’s happening. Is the midwife going to be here soon?” you looked at her, eyes full of fear as you gripped her hand tightly. She nodded and wiped your forehead with a damp cloth.

“Relax honey, she’ll make it. There’s nothing to be scared of. I’m right here.” your mother assured you as you heard a faint knock on the door before it opened, revealing your midwife and a doctor. You relaxed against the bed as her presence calmed you down. Oh thank god.

“Mrs. Barnes, how are you feeling? Are the contractions bearable?” she asked as she laid out a few layers of cloth on the bed before helping you move around into her desired position. You barely nodded before she lifted your loose nightgown and checked in between your legs.

“You’re having a baby soon, Mrs. Barnes. I can see the head already!” she smiled as she took your hand, stroking it softly. You smiled at her weakly, the doctor moving in between your legs to help you give birth. “When you feel the urge, you need to push, Mrs. Barnes!” the midwife told you as you tightened your hand around hers and your mothers, pushing as if your life depended on it. You focused on where the silver dog tags swung from. Where you were gripping your mother’s hand. He was there. You felt it.

You suddenly felt empty. A searing cry tore through the small apartment, letting you know you succeeded.

“Congratulations Mrs. Barnes. It’s a boy!”

#Bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #marvel smut #avengers smut #sebastian stan imagine

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pants-jones · 3 years

Text

Bioshock

The title of this is simple because Bioshock is a game I almost forgot that I played, but as soon as I remembered it a truckload of Bioshock stuff came flowing into my mind, and I decided to write about it here so I can finally seal all the stuff about these games in my brain vault forever. The Bioshock series consists of three games, Bioshock, Bioshock 2, and Bioshock Infinite. Around when Infinite came out, I heard a lotta talk about how amazing it was, but I was like 10 at the time so I never got to play it until it was free on PsPlus a couple months ago, along with the other two. The first two Bioshock games are fairly simple, in story and in gameplay. But Bioshock Infinite took the entirely new level that thinking about it now, almost a year after playing it, still blows me away. I feel like Bioshock doesn’t get the recognition it deserves, the way that games like Portal and Half Life do. But when I say that Bioshock blew my expectations out of the water (that is a pun) is a huge understatement.

So first, let’s start with the first Bioshock. This game came out in 2007, and it really shows with very dated mechanics. The game feels old, and for me that made it way more difficult than it needed to be. Bioshock 2 on the other hand, came out in 2010, and while the story isn’t nearly as good, it’s definitely way more streamlined. I could definitely see myself going back and playing it again. Let’s start with the first game.

Bioshock

Bioshock starts with you on a plane, examining a letter, when the plane suddenly crashes in the middle of the ocean. You’re the only survivor, and the closest thing you can see besides the burning plane parts, is this strange lighthouse.

This lighthouse is made of stone, and it’s tall and menacing but you enter since you have no other option. The door closes behind you and the first thing you see is this.

As you go down the stairs behind it, you enter a pod with the door open, and pull the lever inside. The pod takes you deep, deep underwater, while playing you a small video from a projector. This is 1960, so it’s very old styled. This is the first time you hear the voice of Andrew Ryan, while he tells you his philosophy and why he hates the world as it is. His initial speech is the rule he will live by for the entirety of the game. He hates government, and religion, because as he says in the speech, they all believe “a man isn’t entitled to the sweat of his brow”. I’m probably phrasing it poorly, but he means the mans hard work. You then get the first view of his creation- Rapture, the city on the bottom of the ocean.

When the pod lands, you are met with the main enemy of this game- Splicers. I think this goes without saying but Rapture has some pretty advanced technology. They’ve learned to manipulate peoples DNA to extreme levels, giving them pyrokinesis and other things. These abilities are distributed in really cool looking bottles and are called Plasmids. There are many different types of Plasmids, but you’ll start with lighting in the beginning of the game

Splicers are the results of splicing your genes way too much; they’re like crackheads, but instead of cocaine they was gene splicing. Their faces are usually cutup and they’re usually absolutely insane. But after escaping the first one you meet, you get in contact with a man named Atlas. He tells you he wants to get the hell out of Rapture, and that Andrew Ryan is the reason it’s gone to shit. He tells you that he needs to get his wife and child out with him, but when you get so close to rescuing them, Ryan bombs the submarine they were going to escape on.

Throughout your gameplay you will hear about the way Rapture used to be, before it was a warzone. You would hear about the power struggle between Ryan and someone named Fontaine, and you will learn about how Ryan killed his mistress who was pregnant with his child. This game is full of information explaining how things went down before your arrival. Unfortunately, I’m not the best with this kind of exposition. This is a personal thing but I always mess up the story when it comes to this form of story telling.

Now I’m gonna try my best to explain something a bit weird. If you’ve ever seen anything bioshock, you probably know about their mascot, the Big Daddy.

This right here is a Big Daddy. They’re not robots, more like giant brainwashed people in bit suits. Their voices are altered so they sound deep and menacing, and they’re by far the strongest enemy in the game. They’re made to protect the Little Sisters- the little girl next to the Big Daddy. Little Sisters are practically little blood suckers, they can sense where a dead body with some Atom (the substance they use in plasmids) and call them Angels. They’re children turned into indestructible mosnters that are just there to get Atom. They always travel together. You can kill the Big Daddy and either free the sister, or take the Atom from her body which would kill her. There’s a limited amount of Big Daddies and the game marks how many are left in each section. Obviously killing or saving these girls changes the ending you get. You team up with some german(i think) doctor that pretty much sees these girls as her daughters to stop Ryan and Fontaine, who wants to use them for more Atom.

The rest of the story is a bit fuzzy for me, so I’m just gonna briefly explain it here. Fontaine wasn’t a good guy, and he faked his own death and turned out to be Atlas. He and a doctor (whos name I don’t remember but she was important) pretty much took you and wiped your memory, brainwashing you so that you’d always listen to the trigger ‘would you kindly.” This twist was the biggest mind fuck, because you realize that Atlas (now Fontaine) would say those words all the time. They planted fake memories of a family in your mind and sent you to the surface, and even the letter you were examining in the start had the trigger in it. You kill Andrew Ryan before this (forgot to mention it), and you move on to get rid of this brainwashing and kill Fontaine. And to fight you Fontaine fills himself with Plasmids and Atom and obviously this doesn’t work because video games. You end the game, saving all the little sisters and bringing them to the surface, and live out your life sort of as a father figure for them. Or if you didn't save them, you just bring a bunch of splicers with you, but I don’t think this is a canon ending. This game is a solid 6/10 for me, only because of how dated it is.

Bioshock 2

Bioshock 2′s story is pretty much the same but with a twist this time- You get to play as a Big Daddy. Unfortunately this games story felt a bit too much like the first one so I don’t remember anything big about it. You play as a Big Daddy looking for his Little Sister. The game starts with a cutscene, showing you protecting her from splicers until you get murdered by Raptures new dictator- Sofia Lamb. She takes your Little Sister and turns her into a normal girl again, raising her up to be Eleanor Lamb. You revive yourself years later (i don’t remember how) and go off to find her. The biggest difference between Andrew Ryan and Sofia Lamb is that the splicers seem to worship her. But at the same time Sofia uses Eleanor as some sorta messiah figure, so they could be worshipping her I don’t know. In this game you get to go through newer parts of Rapture, and even get to see the new variant of Big Daddy- Big Sisters. These aren’t like Big Daddies and I’m not even sure what their purpose is, but they’re just as difficult to fight against. I’m pretty sure they’re supposed to steal Little Sisters from their male counterparts and bring them to Lamb. Towards the end of the game, I’m pretty sure Lamb ends up destroying Rapture, and you escape with Eleanor, a bunch of Little Sisters, and depending on your ending you also save Sofia from drowning. This game was a 7/10, because the gameplay was much better but the story was sorta lackluster. I’m not even sure if this game is canon in the story.

Bioshock Infinite

Bioshock Infinite is the most different out of the three. I get the feeling that the devs got sick of the underwater aesthetic, so they said fuck it lets make a city in the sky.

This is Columbia. A city in the sky. It’s the literal opposite of Rapture. It’s bright, it’s colorful, and it’s gorgeous. This was my favorite setting in the whole series. Plasmids are now Vigors, and it takes place in 1912 (I know, surprising). This games story is extremely complex, so if I get lost explaining it I’ll link a video explaining it clearly. In this game you play as Booker Dewitt.

Booker Dewitt is a former member of the Pinkerton National Detective Agency, scarred from the events of the Battle of Wounded Knee. When his debts from gambling start climbing too high, he is sent to Columbia to rescue a young woman named Elizabeth, who’s been trapped there since childhood. She’s kept in a giant statue protected by the Songbird, a giant bird with similar looks to the Big Daddies of Rapture.

(This is Elizabeth btw. We never see Booker’s face except for some official art.)

All of Columbia is run by one man, Zachary Hale Comstock, He’s revered as some “Prophet”, and he seems to know everything about Booker. He’s turned the people of Columbia into a sort of cult reminiscent of the KKK, based on Christianity and white power. Which makes him and all the enemies very easy to hate. Which is good.

This cult is opposed by the Vox Poppuli, led by Daisy Fitzroy. She was originally the housemaid of Comstock’s home, but she fled when she was accused of murdering Comstock’s wife. She took her never ending hatred of Comstock and formed the Vox, a symbol of hatred for all of Columbia and men like Comstock.

The story begins in July 1912, when Booker is taken to a lighthouse off the coast of Maine by two very odd twins, Robert and Rosalind Lutece (they are important later), being told “bring the girl and wipe away the debt.” This lighthouse is very reminiscent of the old stone lighthouse from previous games. But this lighthouse doubles as a rocket silo, and Dewitt is sent to Columbia from here.

The first thing that I personally noticed is Booker’s disdain for religion, because when he’s forced to be baptized to enter Columbia he’s extremely uncomfortable. Soon he’s chased down by the authorities, since all of Columbia has been told by Comstock that any man with a scar on his hand in the shape AD is the devil, just like the scar on Booker’s left hand.

After evading a lot of cops, we finally meet Elizabeth. She’s never really known anyone besides Comstock and the Songbird, and she’s missing a pinky. Besides that, she has a strange ability to create these tears in space time. The first time we see this is when she creates one to 1980′s Paris, a place she's always been desperate to go to. So they make a deal- She leaves Columbia with him and he takes her to Paris.

After multiple shenanigans, Elizabeth ends up taking Booker and herself to a reality where Booker was the martyr of the Vox Populi. Booker sacrificed himself for Daisy here, and this started an all out war between the two factions. Fitzroy believes that the Booker we play as is either an imposter, or a ghost, and she sets her forces on him. With Bookers help, Elizabeth kills Daisy, and they try to escape via airship before Songbird forces them to crash.

At this point they learn a few things about Comstock; Comstock had the Luteces build a siphon device into the tower Elizabeth lived in to inhibit her powers, and he killed his wife and then the Luteces to hide the truth. Plus, Elizabeth is actually Comstocks adopted daughter.

Elizabeth is kidnapped by Songbird. When Booker pursues, he needs to cross a bridge that happens to have a cloud passing through it. In the brief moment that clouds pass over the bridge, it goes from a bright sunset to a cold, windy dark snowstorm. You fight through an old building filled with Comstock’s men, and learn that Elizabeth has already been tortured and corrupted by Comstock. She believes you left her there to die. And then, you learn that Comstock’s been dead for years now. Then you finally meet Elizabeth, she shows you that you’ve been brought to 1984, and that she is using Columbia to attack New York.

In that cloud over the bridge, you were running for what felt like a short time, but was really 72 years. Elizabeth sends you back, because she still doesn’t view you as an enemy, and she tells you how to save herself from Comstock, by controlling the Songbird.

After freeing young Elizabeth, the pair assault Comstock’s airship, where Comstock and Booker argue about Booker’s knowledge of Elizabeth’s missing pinkie. This ends in Booker slamming the back of Comstock’s skull onto a baptismal font, right before drowning and killing him. They move on from the conversation, they use the Songbird to destroy the tower Elizabeth was held captive in, therefore destroying the siphon on her powers.

Songbird turns on them again, but with the siphon gone, Elizabeth uses her powers to transport herself, Booker, and even Songbird to Rapture. Booker and Elizabeth are inside, where they watch Songbird sink and die, being crushed by water pressure.

At this point Elizabeth understands everything about her powers, and understands everything about whatever mystery there is left to this story. She takes Booker up the stone lighthouse, the very same one we saw in Bioshock 1, and basically explains multiverse theory to him. She explains that there are an infinite amount of lighthouses just like this.

At this point, she knows Bookers history. She knows the truth, but Booker’s so traumatized that his brain legitimately erased the memory. The rest of this is about Booker’s past, and how this all began.

Booker was there for Wounded Knee. It traumatized him, made him resent himself, so some day he went to repent, to be baptized. But Booker couldn’t go through with it. he gained a massive debt, and in 1893, Robert Lutece approached Booker on behalf of Comstock, requesting that he “bring us the girl and wipe away the debt”, referring to Booker’s daughter, Anna Dewitt (hence, the AD on Booker’s hand.) Booker reluctantly agreed to hand off his daughter to wipe away his debt, but when he changed his mind, he chased Robert and Comstock down. Comstock tries escaping through a portal (the same portal Elizabeth can make btw) and the two struggle for the baby. Eventually, the portal closes, and Comstock snatches her away while the closing portal leaves her severed pinky in Booker’s hands.

She explains that the Lutece’s have tried to recruit many Booker’s to stop Comstock, but all versions of Comstock will live on unless they try to stop his birth. So she takes Booker back to the baptism- but from another perspective. Booker changing his mind last minute at his own baptism sparked to life a universe where Booker went through with it, and was reborn from that moment onwards as Zachary Hale Comstock. After overusing the Lutece’s multiverse machine, he became sterile, and stole Anna to provide a biological heir for Columbia.

We cut back to Elizabeth and Booker at the baptism pond, where multiple versions of her are appearing in front of him. The only way to stop Comstock is to kill Booker, so he allows them to drown him. And one by one, all the versions of Elizabeth disappear.

This is the canon ending for the game. There are some more things in DLC, like Elizabeth going to Rapture to tie some loose ends connected to Comstock and Ryan’s abuse of the Little Sister’s. And it’s confirmed that Rapture scientists got the idea for Big Daddies from Songbird, and Columbia’s scientists came up with vigors from Rapture’s plasmids. The writers went as far to explain how everything in Rapture or Columbia came to fruition, and connected them all.

I’ve never gotten such an “It all makes sense now feeling” than when playing this game. They didn’t even have to connect it to the first two games but they did and they made it work way too well. Bioshock Infinite is the best out of the three, and thanks to this review I’ve finally gotten all that stuff out of my mind. This game is a 9/10 for me. I’d definitely play it again.

#Bioshock #Bioshock Infinite #Gaming #review

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laughing-with-god · 5 years

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Pen Pal 1.5

Summary- As a lonely person, the idea of exchanging letters with someone apart from society was actually quite appealing to you. In a random act of charity and desperation, you sign up for a pen pal and get paired up with an inmate named Jungkook. The letters were meant to help him cope with prison life, but little did anyone know it was actually driving him more mad.

Warnings- Yandere/Prisoner Jungkook x Reader. Mature themes. Mention of mental disorder.

Words; 5.4k

“Have you ever felt so connected to someone that you didn’t understand why they were inside another skin and inhabiting a different body than you?”

He supposed that he should’ve been more displeased with where he landed himself.

A cage of a jail cell that was six by eight feet and enclosed with brick walls that were so old, the paint was chipping off more and more each day. The only entrance and exit being the harsh bars of the metal doors where a police officer could always be seen patrolling the passage ways, eyeing inmates with a judgmental glare as if he knew each and every one of their stories and how they were menaces to society.

But if Jungkook was being true to himself, he couldn’t find any need to relate to his fellow prisoners fantasies of being in the outside world once again.

He had no desire to integrate back into society.

He hated the world for a long time.

He hated how obnoxious and fake people were in the modern era. He hated how capitalistic and money hungry the economy was. He hated how surface level and crude the general community was.

From the time he was born, his peers would only approach him because they had hopes of being friends with the son of a rich power-broker.

They would smile to his face and claimed to like him, but behind his back they would complain about how ‘boring and weird’ he was.

Indeed, as a youngster Jungkook had been very introverted.

He loved drawing, and this caused looks of confusion as most boys his age would enjoy a game of football or soccer more than doodling. The only reason he got invites to playdates or birthday parties was due to his family’s social status. He was quick to catch on when his ‘friends’ would always push to go to his house, to play with his toys and to drop the Jeon name when bragging to other people about the ‘friendship’.

However as Jungkook got older, the less he cared about such trivial matters. As an insecure little boy, it bruised him quite a bit. But as an older teen, he accepted it as a harsh reality. No one liked him for him, yet it wasn’t as tragic as it sounded. Because, he didn’t accept them for who they were either. The world and Jungkook had a mutual understanding for each other. He despised them for it used him.

So when he went and got himself locked up, he really didn’t have that much remorse for what he would miss of the outside world. The criminal psychologist said he had a problem with feelings in general; having a low emotional capacity for settings or situations but a heightened one for certain people in his life. But Jungkook paid this analysis no mind. After all, how many different settings, situations or people can he encounter while serving a life-time sentence at one of the most highly guarded prisons in the country?

He did what he had done, and he was at peace with everything concerning the matter.

When other inmates would rant about how they missed very basic things of life; non-cafeteria food, going to parks, having your own home and schedule, Jungkook didn’t care for the sentiment at all. In fact, he thought they were weak to not even be able to handle prison. Really, how bad was it? You got a bed to sleep on, a toilet to shit in and was fed three time a day. With the way these fuckers ranted, you would’ve thought they were world war soldiers talking about home life whilst serving in the trenches. Pathetic, really.

One day, Jungkook walked into his cell after a decent work out only to spot a pristine and angelic white envelope on his bed (more like a slab of metal with a cheap blanket on top but what did you expect of a cell?). This caused Jungkook to quirk a brow at the odd sight, he was pretty particular with boundaries and it annoyed him to see his roommate not respect his space.

“Joon, I told you not to leave shit in my area.” Jungkook motonously commented to his cell mate that was currently on the top bunk, book in hand. This caused the older to peek from his spot above and glance down at the lower bunk.

“Uh...that’s not mine. Plus it has your name on it and everything, bro.”

Jungkook sighed and pressed his tongue against his cheek in an angry tick that he had adopted years ago. He really just wanted to head to the showers and he couldn’t imagine who would be writing to him. His family having disowned him for his crimes and everyone else having forgotten him or shunning his existence like he had the plague. Not that he was too disappointed with these developments, he could spend the rest of his days without a word from anyone from the outside and he would still die content.

With a huff, he snatched the envelope and opened it with very little grace.

‘Dear Mr. or Miss. Prisoner…..’

Jungkook’s doe eyes skimmed passed the delicate but noticeably rushed handwriting, soaking in the words with hesitance at such unexpected vulnerability from an utter stranger. It wasn’t a long letter (Jungkook was finished reading it after 30 seconds or so) but he plopped himself on his bed to re-read the letter when he was done, showers somehow forgotten.

Said person who wrote to him managed to sound very weak and tired through diction alone. However, this moment of weakness from the stranger was somehow not at all judged by Jungkook. This revelation startled the prisoner himself, given that he had always made it a habit to look down on those whom lacked the mental strength that he did. A fucked up social darwinism philosophy that was only heightened by being around meager sheep while he was a full on ruthless psycho. But why? Why did he feel pity this time instead of the usual disgust whenever someone was so bare and raw to him?

The answer was simple.

He related to you.

He felt as though you had put it best into words exactly what he felt when he was living out there in the public. The world was scary and he didn’t blame you for being paranoid or locking yourself up. He could practically feel your fear from where he was; locked in a tiny cell and miles upon miles away from civilization. He got the sense that you were different, like him. Most people he had encountered in his lifetime have always been okay with how the world was, not acknowledging the sinister characteristics that came along with it. Authenticity was oozing from your writing as you did way more than just acknowledge the bad; you did your best to stay away from it all together. In a weird way, Jungkook found this cute. You were like a frightened child that hid under your bed to avoid the evil babysitter, escaping was your pure and innocent plan of action. Which was different from Jungkook’s more violent actions….but he concluded he liked the contrast between you two. While you decided to take it out on yourself and starve yourself from stimulation just to keep away from the barbaric world, Jungkook took it upon himself to make everyone else pay.

“It it that stupid Pen Pal program?”

Jungkook glanced up from the paper to see his cellmate hang his head from the bed above, watching Jungkook with questioning orbs. Jungkook just scoffed at the upside down face and nodded.

“I just threw my letter away. I heard they put all of us in that program because it’s a tax-write off for them. It’s bullshit.” Namjoon told the younger.

Jungkook didn’t supply the other with an answer. Instead he carefully folded the letter and placed it smoothly under his pillow. Then, he headed out to the showers while thoughts of what to write back to you filled his mind.

‘Dear Y/n,

Well I would feel rather….accepting.

I think you must be a very wise person to keep yourself far from the wretched claws of society…..’

Jungkook tapped the capped pen against his chin, looking over his writing for any errors or mishaps before he signed off entirely.

His letter was more in response to yours, after all you hadn’t given him that much to reply back to. But still, some communication was better than none at all. Jungkook wanted to let you know that he understood your fears. Hell, he even shared them with you. He hoped that you believed him when he told you that he also harbored disdain for your enemy. And he also wanted to learn more about such a like-minded individual. Surely, you both had to have other similarities too, right?

He added the request for an image of you toward the end of his letter, just out of sheer curiosity for his long-lost twin. He didn’t care what you looked like but he wanted to scratch the itch of placing a face with the writing, knowing the urge to know would never go away until he saw your face.

Other prisoners watched shocked as they witnessed Jungkook make his way to the mail room to drop off a letter to be sent off, knowing that he never made contact with the outside world.

Jungkook found himself pacing his cell in an anxious manner, arms crossed and brows furrowed. His stomach was tied into knots and his palms were clammy, hinting at one of the first times that he’s ever been nervous.

He really was hoping for a response from you.

He knew that it was very childish and sad to be so giddy for a letter, but he couldn’t help but get excited at the prospect of another note. It was refreshing to be able to talk to someone who wasn’t a felon. Someone who wasn’t there in person yet still reached out to connect with a corrupt scanderal such as himself.

Which is why when the usual mail carrier came down the cells, cart in hand with envelopes, pictures, money and presents for inmates, Jungkook found himself holding his breath and wishing for the first time ever that the carrier would stop at his cell.

He had never been on the receiving end of such transactions, he had no one on the outside to look out for him. But the faceless recluse that had reached out to him in a cry for companionship had fogged his mind, leaving hims restless and jittery.

Could it be that he found a genuine friend?

One that didn’t use him for his reputation (unlike his former childhood friends) and accepted him as the fuck up he was.

“Letter for a Jeon Jungkook?” The middle-aged man paused in front of the barren cell, sticking a pristine white envelope through the metal bars. It was almost comical the joy that bursted through his chest and the way he leaped to attrive the holy piece of material. As if it glowed bright in the grim and grey limbo that he was stuck in.

Not being able to withhold the anticipation, Jungkook quickly took the letter to his bunk and carefully slit it open.

‘Dear Jungkook,

Words cannot express how thankful I am that you answered my pathetic call for help…’

The writing was noticeably neater than the first letter. Jungkook noted with a smile how much longer this one was prior to the last. The inmate forced himself to pore over every detail at a slower pace, not wanting to accidently skim past any vital information yet also wishing to savor the ritual.

You seemed very blindly kind to someone who was a wretched crook. In fact, you claimed to be very grateful to hear from little old him. The feeling was utterly foreign, the idea that someone was out there that genuinely wanted his friendship, someone who genuinely wanted to know his most bland personal preferences, who was practically pleading for his written company. It made him feel wanted. After some thought he decided that he quite liked the new feeling. Even at his worst; locked up for a lifetime sentence, you went out of your way to kill his loneliness. He almost giggled when you told him of the disorder that the world had labelled you with, it was awfully funny to him that you both were called mentally unstable. You two now had that in common as well. He felt a sudden stab in the gut when you mentioned your sister. He guessed if he had to identify the emotion it would be closest to sympathy or guilt. He supposed he felt...bad for your loss. Jungkook smiled widely.

Yes! That’s it! He felt bad for you!

God if the psychologist who said he had no emotions could see him now...

Towards the end of your writing, you mentioned not being a ‘looker’. As if the paper itself burned him, Jungkook dropped the object with great haste to dig through the envelope. You had sent the picture! He almost forgot that he even asked for such thing.

And there it was, a small 4x6 printed image of a lovely face smiling shyly at the camera.

Your face was small and round, skin serene and creamy with its (porcelain/olive/honey/amber/cinnamon) hued pores that was the canvas for your darling features. Your nose was benevolent and perched regally as well as perfectly centered amidst the sculpture that was your appearance. The bridge of the blessed feature dipped discreetly and softly, complimenting the luminous orbs that were vividly painted with a the crispest shade of (color) that he’s ever had the pleasure of witnessing. The enchanting irises were artistically framed by magnetizing dark eyelashes that were as long as they were seductive. Somehow he just knew that the colors supplied by whatever commercial printer didn’t do the color-pads of your eyes justice, imagining the shiver that will go down his spine when he could be bare to them in their full and unfiltered glory. They held a humane gentleness but still….a simmering witt was also bubbling under the surface. Overhead the eyes were carefully groomed eyebrows that were neat and shapely, one was elegantly arched in a expression of somber joy.

Underneath your nose was a pair of nectarous ruby red (or flowery pink) lips that looked perfectly cushioning to any lucky man who would have the chance to collide theirs with yours. Your pristine and snow-white teeth were barely poking out, show casting your shyness even when plastering on a friendly smile. It’s as if you were unable to let yourself be one-hundred percent bare even in something as basic as a grin. He wondered what kind of mellifluous sound would erupt from such a devine cavern. Your (color) hair was sadly put up, unable to flow freely in the still-frame image. Even though he had very little to study, he still knew that he would want to (straight hair; run his hands through your silken strands) (curly hair; bounce the fluid swirls of your playful mane). An odd urge to inhale the scent of your shampoo was what Jungkook felt next.

Lost in his own self-induced trance, he didn’t realize that he had been staring for so long until he felt a shadow loom over his figure.

It was his cellmate and suddenly the infatuated man became all too aware of his slightly ajar mouth and his widened eyes that were stuck on the flimsy printed picture that was tightly held in his grasp (as if terrified that someone would steal the chef d'oeuvre...in an abode of criminals, this fear was somewhat relevant). Quickly, he masked his expression to that of usual indifference.

“You’ve been sitting there staring for like eleven minutes. You good?”

He just nodded, not a fan of frivolous speech or furthering conversation with people he cared none for. Still, the fucker persisted.

“You sure? Your girl didn’t send you something naughty or something, right?” This was said in a matter of humor, an attempt to relieve the dark aura that Jungkook seemed to exude in every social interaction. However, the serious face that Jungkook had on gave the other the impression that he had hit the mark precisely. Joon’s jaw dropped and an eager grin formed at the corners of his lips.

“Really?! No way! Can I see?” The over-sized goon attempted to stride forward, hands already out-reached to grasp at the first smut he would’ve seen in a long time. Out of primal instinct to keep what was his away from the snubby hands of others, Jungkook pulled back. But the fool had enlarged limbs and this meant his lengthy arms were very capable of plucking the picture off of Jungkook’s safe grip.

Greedy, Namjoon ran his eyes over the photo. His grin slowly slid off as he realised that it was indeed nothing sexual. Nonetheless, his eyes lingered far longer than Jungkook cared for….before promptly returning the image to it’s rightful owner, whose jaw was clenched and teeth now grinding at the recent events.

“Who is she?”

“My pen-pal.” Jungkook promptly answered whilst hiding both the letter and photo under his pillow before placing his head on it, staring up at the bunk above him.

“Damn, if I’d know that I could’ve gotten someone like that….” A brief pause as Joon climbed up his bed as well. “I definitely wouldn’t have thrown mine away.”

Jungkook felt the familiar agitation hit him, tongue pressing against his cheek and he wondered if it was too late to request a cell change.

The lights went out and ponderings of what to write back filled Jungkook’s mind along with the bewitching photo that was just directly under his head…

Opting not to go to breakfast, Jungkook stayed within his cell.

He elaborately printed his response back to you.

‘Dear Y/n,

I thought you were a very smart person but obviously not…’

The inmate was sure to make you aware of how breathtaking you were, but also very careful in tip-toeing around just how gorgeous you were to him. He could have written a dozen novels about your exquisite appearance alone, but obviously he was unable to do such thing. He didn’t want you to think he was a creep and halt all communication with him. In an effort to get closer to you, Jungkook added some sentiment in regards to your loss, adding an anecdote about his mother for dramatic effect.

Now, it was time to fulfill your wish to see him as he had seen you.

He had no problem with such request. Not that he ever paid attention to such pointless gossip, but he had always heard whispers of how handsome he was. Jungkook didn’t consider himself to be a little Fabio on any scale, but he knew he wasn’t hard on the eyes of the opposite sex. The trouble was, how exactly would he be able to send a photo?

After a year in prison, you get to learn that there are two ways you can survive in such element. You either adapt or you crumble.

The fittest of the inmates learned real quick how to make prison into their home. Some men have been here so long that they grew connections and were able to bring some things from the outside world in.

Jungkook made plans to visit one the older inmates, knowing that he could trade a candybar for a favor of sneaking a photo out to you. For now, he folded his letter and placed it in the envelope, awaiting his picture before being shipped off to the mailroom.

‘Dear Jungkook,

…..I guess you’re not the worst face I’ve seen….’

Jungkook smiled as he fondly traced the words that you have written onto the paper only days prior. He imagined your endearing face scrunching up into a thoughtful expression as you scribbled your response back to him. You were funny and he couldn’t deny the sense of pride he felt when you admitted to his attractiveness. In the past, he never gave a fuck if people thought he was the next Ryan Gosling or the ugliest mug they’ve ever seen. But he felt a weird sense of relief behold him when you said that you indeed thought he was good-looking. He didn’t want to imagine what he might’ve felt if you called him ugly or stopped talking to him after seeing his face.

But that was not the best aspect to be seen within your writing.

The best thing that caused his chest to erupt in a warm and fuzzy feeling was when you agreed that you also felt a connection between you two. That you found him to be ‘marvelous company’ and you enjoyed his letters. This just confirmed his suspicion that you were somehow tied together. That you two were meant to stumble upon each other in the most unconventional way. Jungkook was sure of it, that you two have defied the odds that cruel reality set against you ‘mentally unstable’ pair and found peace along with understanding within each other.

Jungkook didn’t know how to describe you. Surely a ‘pal’ wasn’t it.

You were like another half of him.

Like you both have fallen from the same star and were unfortunate to fall on this damned earth. Surrounded by the bizzare ‘humans’ and called odd for not being one of their species. Jungkook decided then and there that you two were mates.

And yes, Jungkook meant it in the primal and borderline barbaric ways that animals did. He would prove his worthiness as a male specimen, he would shelter and feed you, he would breed and produce offspring with you. Regular people would look at this plan and consider it cave-man like, but he thought it was considerably more romantic this way. Animals mated for life and were not afraid to get murderous when someone threatened this sacred bond. What was so wrong with such animalistic viewpoint? Humans were the worst type of creature and he was not at all interested in their fake way of obtaining a lover. And he got the sense that you weren’t either. Dates, chocolates, flowers? How is it that those things were put on a pedestal as a grand show of affection but having a genuine connection with a person was not? Jungkook couldn’t strain his brain to understand such mindset.

This all left the forefront of his mind when he read to the last parts of your letter. Eyebrows going up in surprise at the ‘P.S’ adage that was never before seen from you. His smile slipped off his face when he saw what you wished.

You wanted to know how he landed himself in prison.

Now….that was a touchy subject.

He really didn’t want to scare you away.

You were too understanding, too alike to him for Jungkook to ever want you to run away. He knew that no matter how much he could try, his crimes were inexcusable. Even the holiest of saints would hinder their forgiveness.

Jungkook came to the conclusion that it would be best to tell a white lie until he had more of a connection with you to reveal the truth.

Sure, he was utterly enthralled by you but he didn’t know how deep your affections lied with him. He just needed more time to spin a perspective to fill your ear with, he needed to get his claws deep within you, he needed you to be as dependent on him as he was with you. Jungkook decided to create a fake story to keep you close to him.

Jungkook smirked and grabbed a pen and paper for the next letter.

‘Dear Jk,

My day to day is also lifeless, I’m afraid…’

It was lunch time and Jungkook sat alone in his usual corner of the table, mystery meat forgotten in favor of absorbing the new letter that you had produced for his addiction.

The first paragraph had the psycho inmate smiling as he pictured you in your tiny apartment, dressed in comfy clothes doing the most mundane things. He liked to spend his free time just imagining what your comfy ‘nest’ was like, picturing your tiny frame skipping around it. You sitting on a sofa, bundled up in blankets and one of his oversized sweaters, book in hand and steaming hot cup of hot chocolate in the other. You in the kitchen, humming some tune in your dulcet voice as you attempted to make him a home cooked meal, frowning when you realized that you had not followed a certain step correctly like the cook book said. You laughing at the movie that played on the television screen while you both reach into the popcorn bowl at the same time. What Jungkook wouldn’t give to live in the little nest with you. To occupy the same cocoon that you created.

He often found himself fantasizing about being the brave one for you.

The one who would go to the outside world on your behalf. He would get you groceries, get a 9 to 5 to pay the bills, go out at 3 am to get you lady products or any random craving. Wouldn’t that be nice? It would be similar to a caregiver role. Him taking care of you so you just had to stay your pretty self at home, keeping it warm and pillowy for his return. You would be so thankful for his willingness to go out into your worst fear for the sake of your happiness.

But then, as the letter continued, Jungkook’s mood soured.

Your mother had violated your space and made you feel awful.

Jungkook felt rage in that moment.

He never held so much hatred for someone he had never met before.

He instantly knew that he didn’t like your mother.

A piercing sensation thundered upon his chest. The cursed image of your sweet face covered in tears fogged his mind’s eye.

God helped anyone who fucked with you.

Jungkook folded the letter and put it in his pocket, shoveling some tasteless cafeteria food to distract him the familiar hellish itch that screamed at him from underneath his skin.

Later that day, Jungkook responded with a letter of his own.

He attached the drawings that he had mentioned to you, somewhat bashful that for the past weeks all he had been able to draw was you. But he brushed the feelings off and focused on another task; getting you to start calling.

He would often see inmates taking up phone booths, talking and laughing with loved ones from the outside for a couple minutes at a time. Jungkook wanted that for you two. He wanted to hear the blessed voice that he knew you had, and he wanted you to become familiar with his as well. After all, you would be hearing it a lot in your lifetime.

‘My Dearest Y/n,

I’m sure you must’ve gotten busy, why else haven’t you written in a week?’

Jungkook was slowly becoming irritated at the lack of mail he has been receiving. It had been five days since you had responded and Jungkook felt anxious at your sudden silence. You were a sweetheart and would never abandon him. You weren’t like those other wretched people, right? No! You couldn’t be.

Jungkook shook his head and mentally cursed himself for even thinking that for a moment.

You must have gotten busy.

Maybe your mom didn’t give up on pestering you.

‘My Dearest Y/n,

Where have you gone? You haven’t forgotten about me have you?’

Jungkook couldn’t bear the silence. He was slowly growing restless. He needed the stimulation that was your communication. Without it, he had no new material to fill his mind. No new scenarios to daydream about. NOTHING to get him through the day in the colorless cell that began to taunt him. He attempted to distract himself with the picture of you as well as your

former letters that now had tear stains because of his new habit of crying over them, knowing they might be the last he ever gets from you.

‘Y/n,

This isn’t funny anymore….’

Jungkook was not only uneased, but now he was worried. Thoughts of what could’ve possibly caused your silence now haunted his mind at night when he attempted to get what little rest he could. Time was only worsening his growing paranoia each day that he didn’t receive a letter.

He knew you lived alone and had very little outside communication with anyone. The main ones being him and your mother. Jungkook could only assume that your mother and you would be taking a break due to your mother’s mental breakdown. And that left him. Stuck in a penitentiary with no way to reach you. He nearly punched the brick wall of his cell when he came to the realization that something could’ve happened to you and no one would’ve known. If you didn’t answer this letter, he didn’t know what he’d do.

‘Dear Jungkook (or should I say Easter Bunny?)

I know what you did.

I know that you lied to me.

I know you’re a murderer.

Friends don’t lie to each other, Jungkook.

I think it’s best if we find different Pen Pals.

All my best wishes, Y/n.

The letter fell to the ground as Jungkook stared in shock at the absurdly short and cold answer he got from you.

He underestimated you.

You found out.

Jungkook felt his temper flare as well as his breathing.

He’d be damned to let you go.

You were soulmates….couldn’t you see that?

Jungkook never thought he’d have to rely on this but he had no choice.

In the cell block, there were some people whom have been there for 30 years, and other for 30 days. Prison 101 is to not fuck with the guys who had time under their belts. It was best to respect them and acknowledge that they have connections. But respect was the last thing on his mind as he stormed into the tiny cell room of an old geezer whose been committing crimes since before Jungkook was even born.

The older man was used to people coming to his cell, usually asking about how to get hands on a cell phone or how to get the precious kitchen duty to sneak food. Over time, the man humored many childish inmates with some insider tricks. Almost everyone had talked to him at some point, but Jungkook was one of the very few whom did not approach him seeking an easier ride. Thus, he was shocked to see the young and deadly figure swoop into the area, eyes dead and jaw clenched.

“You’re going to do something for me.” Jungkook said this monotonously while maintaining eye contact. The older man couldn’t ignore the shivers that went down his spine but he still acted calm, knowing you couldn’t show weaknesses to the younger and violent inmates.

“Is that so?” The older quirked a brow at Jungkook though the rusty mirror and went back to shaving his face. The younger was behind him and just tilted his head and stepped forward, still staring at the man through the reflection of the glass.

“You are going to sneak me out of this joint.”

This caused the older to laugh, not believing his ears at such a ludicrous request.

Jungkook came up behind the older, mouth close to his ear and eyes lifeless and inky as they held the older’s through the mirror.

“Listen here you senile fuck, I know that you know who I am and what I did. It’s your best interest to listen to what I tell you. Would you like to hear a secret?” The petrified and frozen man nodded, not having the balls to disobey or look away. “I never told the jury that I didn’t murder those people on my own….I had a partner. A partner who is still out there and would surely take care of your pretty little daughter I hear you talking on the phone to.”

Jungkook smiled as the man grimly agreed to do whatever he wished.

Now, he just had to inform you of his upcoming arrival.

‘My Dearest Y/n,

I see you found out about the nickname the hideous press gave me.

Well….this type of revelation is best talked over in person.

I’ll see you soon.’

Author’s note; so....both JK and Y/n have mental problems, just to clarify. Also, this wasn’t part two bc I think of this as just the other half of part one. There will still be a part two and three. Please let me know what you thought bc a full inbox makes for a happy writer. It’s challenging to write for a Y/n character bc the point is for you guys to identify with her in the story and I wanted you guys to feel like you truly are her so when I did the part where Jk becomes very obsessed with the pic, I wanted to add details but obvi not everyone has the same characteristics so I added diff options...pls let me know what you thought of this.

#yandere bts #bts yandere #yandere jungkook #jeon jungkook #BTS jungkook #jungkook #kim namjoon #namjoon #yandere kpop #bts #bangtan boys #love #pen pal #kpop #my writing #yandere

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textingkpop · 5 years

Text

Roommate Needed

A/N: This took me months to start and finish...my bad….it's been over a year since this was started (started in February 2018)…that should mean it’s really good right?…probably not…the ending is probably crap... Expect a lot of cliches and a lot of weirdness. Italics are thoughts, Y/N= Your Name, R/N=Roommate's Name, Y/M=Your Major, Phoenix is one of my OCs that I use constantly as supporting characters, Rina, Danny, Chris and Mrs. Peters are random names…sorry if one of them is your name…

Pairing(s): Mark (GOT7 x Reader)

Genre(s): Roommate AU, Fluff, Angst?

Warning(s): Language, Fighting…kinda, Stalker/stalking

Word Count: 10,000+

I am definitely going to the housing office tomorrow and filing a complaint. You think to yourself as you carry your backpack and some personal necessities for the night out into the lounge. Your roommate had kicked you out of your shared dorm room for the third time this week and it is only Wednesday. Just because she wants to fuck her boyfriend does not mean that I should have to leave the room I pay for. Does her boyfriend not have a room of his own?

You throw your bag on the table in the lounge of your dorm, surprisingly no one is in there. If only I could find a cheap apartment then I could move out of this hellhole. You wander over to the bulletin board, staring blankly at the random flyers pinned to the surface. You are about to go make a bed on the couch when a plain white flyer with bold letters stands out to you:

ROOMMATE NEEDED

PREFERABLY ANOTHER COLLEGE STUDENT

WILLING TO NEGOTIATE RENT SPLITTING,

NOT JUST 50/50

IF INTERESTED PLEASE CALL:

MARK TUAN @ XXX-XXX-XXXX

You pull the flyer off the board, Mark Tuan…wasn't he in my Philosophy of Religion course last semester? You shrug and pull out your phone, dialing the number.

~ AT THE SAME TIME, IN AN APARTMENT COMPLEX NEAR CAMPUS~

"Mark, I hate to tell you but these flyers suck." Phoenix said as he looked at the flyers on the coffee table. "Shut up, Phoenix. I was too lazy to try harder on them, I mean it's not like I wanted to move…again." Phoenix laughs and starts to unpack the box in front of him. "At least this place was able to move you in quickly. Otherwise, you would have been stuck at your old place." Mark hums and heads towards the door, "I'm going to grab the last few boxes. If my phone rings answer it and be cool, it might be someone answering the flyers I put up in the dorms." Mark walks out the door, but as it closes Phoenix yells, "No one will answer this garbage!"

Phoenix continues to unpack the boxes around him when Mark's phone rings. He picks it up and answers in his best secretary voice, "Mark Tuan's phone, this is Phoenix. How may I help you?"

~Back to Y/N~

Your eyes widen in shock, "Phoenix? What the hell?"

"Y/N? Is that you? What are you calling Mark for?"

"I saw his flyer about needing a roommate and I have had enough of R/N, figured it wouldn't hurt to talk about it."

"Dude, I literally just told him no one would answer his dumb flyer. Of course one of my best friends would just to spite me." Phoenix says exasperatedly.

"Of course, Phoenix. I live to make you look dumb. So is Mark there or what?"

"He's getting more boxes from the moving truck. How about I send you the address and you head over here, it'll be better than just sitting in the dorm lounge all night. Mark promised to buy me pizza for helping him move." Phoenix said excitedly into the phone and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Sure, send me the address and I'll head your way."

"Awesome, see you in a bit. BYYYYEEEE!" You pull the phone away from your ear as he screams into the phone. You shake your head and start to gather your stuff, your phone chimes and you see the Phoenix sent the address from Mark's phone. You grab your stuff and head out of the dorm to what hopefully will be your new place.

~BACK AT MARK'S APARTMENT~

"BYYYYEEE!" Mark walks back into the apartment to see Phoenix yelling into his phone.

"Who was that?" Phoenix looks over and holds up one finger to signal that he needed a minute. He types something into Mark's phone then turns to him with a smile.

"That, my dear friend, was the first person interested in being your roommate." Mark's eyes go wide and Phoenix laughs. "Chill, dude. I know her, we're best friends. She is sick of her roommate at the dorm always kicking her out so they can fuck their boyfriend. She saw your flyer and is currently on her way here." Mark nods before looking at Phoenix in panic.

"Dude, what the fuck? This place is a mess. How could you invite someone over when it looks like this?" Phoenix looks around the room, it's cluttered but not messy.

"You literally moved in today, there is no way she'll be upset since you just moved in." Mark groans and slumps onto the makeshift couch, which is just a broken futon pushed against a wall.

"Can we at least try to make it look better before…what's her name?" Phoenix looks up and smiles, "Y/N Y/L/N." Mark nods, the name sounding familiar to him, "Right, Y/N. Let's clean up some before Y/N gets here." Phoenix nods and they start rushing to unpack and break down as many boxes as possible. They are making good progress when they hear a knock at the door. Phoenix jumps up and looks through the peephole. He smiles back at Mark and opens the door wide.

~Y/N's/Narrator P.O.V.~

"Y/N!!!" The door opens to reveal Phoenix and he instantly pulls you in for a hug. You scrunch up your nose as his sweaty body touches you.

"Ew. Dude, you stink." You shove him away and you hear a laugh from inside the apartment, looking up you see Mark Tuan laughing cutely from amongst a pile of boxes. Damn, I forgot how cute he was. Mark makes his way over to you and he use the edge of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face, giving you a nice view of what's underneath that shirt. OMG he is not just cute but sexy! Kill me now.

Once Mark reaches you, he holds out his hand, "Hey, I'm Mark, you're Y/N, right? Did we have a class together last semester? You look familiar." You take his hand and shake it while nodding, "Yeah, I think it was Philosophy of Religion with Dr. Maloney, right?" Mark nods, "That's right! He was insane."

Phoenix is just staring at the two of you, seeing as your hands are still clasped together. He fakes a cough, which causes you and Mark to jump a little. "Anyway, Mark, you said that you'd pay me in pizza so get to ordering. Be sure to get enough for Y/N!" He calls as he makes his way into the apartment. You and Mark just stare at each other, then you both chuckle.

"Come on in. I'll order the pizza then we can talk about you possibly moving in here." Mark steps aside to let you and closes the door. You walk into the apartment, only to be stopped by a mess of boxes.

"You just moved in?" You turn to Mark and he nods. "Yeah, sorry about the mess, I kinda had to move in a hurry." Mark says as he scratches the back of his neck. You nod and start to make your way to the living room.

You walk into the living room to see Phoenix stretched out on the futon. You walk over and kick his feet to make him move over. He groans but moves his legs anyway, giving you enough room to sit down. Mark walks over with his phone in hand.

"Okay, what kind of pizza do we want?" He looks up at you and Phoenix. "Anything is fine with me, but if we want to just be simple I would say cheese or pepperoni." Phoenix tells him and you nod in agreement. Mark gives you a thumbs up and goes back to typing on his phone. After a few minutes, he puts his phone away.

"Alright, pizza should be here in about 30 minutes. While we wait, let's get to know each other." Mark says as he sits on a the floor. "All I know about you, Y/N, is that you are a college student who has a roommate who likes to kick you out of your shared room so she can fuck her boyfriend and that you are somehow friends with this weirdo." Mark points at Phoenix who lets out an indigent 'hey' at the term. You and Mark laugh as Phoenix glares at the both of you.

"Well I am Y/N and I met Phoenix when we were like 13. Him and his brothers had just transferred to my school. I was nice and invited them to sit with me and my friends at lunch, I've been stuck with them ever since." Phoenix lets out another shout as you recount how your friendship began. You laugh and Mark nods.

"I can see that. They are very clingy and needy." You and Mark share a small smile as Phoenix pouts in the corner. "They are good friends though, I mean Phoenix helped me move." You nod, thinking about all the times the guys have helped you.

"Why did you move? Were you just tired of your old place or were you like evicted or something?" You ask out of pure curiosity. Mark looks at Phoenix and you can tell they are having a silent conversation.

"Something like that…" Mark begins. "Dude, just tell Y/N the truth. If she is going to live here then she needs to know." You stare at Phoenix wide-eyed after his sudden outburst. Mark sighs and nods.

"I had to move because a girl I met at a party and hung out with a few times is stalking me and she keeps breaking into my place." Mark tells you without looking up. What the heck? Why doesn't he get like a restraining order or something?

"So, you are being stalked by your ex?" Mark looks up at you and shakes his head. "No! No no no no no! We never dated or even hung out alone, she was a friend of a couple friends so we had the same friend group." You nod.

"So somehow she got this idea that you guys were more than just acquaintances?" Mark nods and takes a deep breath. "I barely even spoke to her. I have no idea why she would think we were more than that." You just shake your head at the whole story.

"Did you ever think it get a restraining order against her or something? I mean, she is obviously crazy." Mark nods and pulls his backpack over to him. "Yeah, this time around I did. She should have been served the order today." You nod and then it struck you, did he say this time? "Mark, how many times have you had to move because of her?"

Mark shyly looks at the floor and scratches the back of his head. "Uh, this is the third time in six months. I thought she would get the hint after all of our mutual friends stopped hanging out with her and I kept moving, but she hasn't so I was forced to do it." Mark pulls out the papers and hands them to you. You skim through them, mainly catching her name, Rina, before handing the papers back to Mark. "You are too nice of a person. I would have filed those a while ago." Mark shrugs and puts the papers away.

"You're right, but I didn't want this to hurt her in the future if it was just a crush." "Mark, just a crush is flirting and doodling their name on your notebook, not stalking them and breaking into their home." You berate him and Mark laughs, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Mark goes to say something else when there is a knock at the door. Mark gets up and answers the door, soon returning with the pizzas, "I got one cheese and one pepperoni. So let's eat up."

After eating, you help unpack the last of the boxes and get the apartment looking more liveable. You finish setting up the coffee table and you look around the living room, Mark and Phoenix are currently trying to set up the t.v. and gaming system. "Y/N, can you come here for a second?" Mark asks from underneath the entertainment center. "Sure." You walk over and see that he is trying to get a wire hooked into the t.v. but can't reach. "Can you take this cord and plug it into the port?" You hum in agreement and take the cord, plugging it into the port. All at once the t.v. emits this ear piercing sound that has you all panicking, Mark even jumped and hit his head on the entertainment center. Phoenix gets the sound to stop and you all sit back and admire your work.

"So, Y/N, do you think you can handle living with Mark?" Phoenix asks. You hum quietly and then nod. "Yeah, he's not so bad and I just really want out of that dorm." Mark looks at you with wide eyes. "Wait, seriously? Even after learning about Rina?" You nod and laugh. "I mean you have the restraining order and I'm not scared of some crazy chick, I grew up with Phoenix and his brothers so I think I'll be okay." Mark smiles and pulls you into a hug. You hesitantly hug him back. "Thank you, Y/N! I promise I won't let her anywhere near you." You just laugh and agree.

Phoenix leaves, but you stayed with Mark seeing as you will already be living together. "Okay, so you can sleep in my bed and I'll sleep on the 'couch'." Mark says making air quotes around couch. You immediately shake your head in protest. "No no no. I am not taking your bed." Mark shakes his head and laughs, "Well I am not letting you sleep on this broken futon that I call a couch. I bet you have class tomorrow and I don't want your back to hurt so just use my bed." You shake your head again, "I bet you have class tomorrow too, so what's the difference between my back hurting and yours?" Mark looks at you for a second before sighing, "Fine, I guess we could just share my bed for the night." You hesitate but nod anyway. Mark notices your hesitation and immediately starts to panic. "Nothing will happen! We can like lay pillows or something in between us so we don't touch!" You laugh and Mark stops talking, his face is now beet red.

"Well, we are probably going to have to work something out because I just realized that I don't have a bed to bring here. I'll have to call my parents to see if they can loan me some money to buy at least a mattress." You tell him and he just sighs while letting out a small chuckle. "I have an extra bed in storage, I used to live with a friend but when they moved out they just left the bed. You could use that if you wanted and it would save you some money. I promise it's clean, I had both beds professionally cleaned and then they wrapped up the extra and put it in storage." You are shocked by Mark's words but nod nonetheless. "That sounds great!" Mark smiles and nods, "I can call some of my friends and we can get the bed moved sometime tomorrow or the next day. I can even see if some of them can help you move out of your dorm." You nod and then realize you never worked out the sleeping arrangement for the night.

"So, are we sharing your bed tonight and possibly tomorrow night?" Mark nods and makes his way down the hall. "I think I have some sweats and a hoodie you could wear tomorrow, that way you can just shower here and head to class." You blush at his words. Am I really going to wear some guys clothes to class?! Mark hands you a couple pairs of pants and a hoodie, "You should try them on now, so we can avoid the hassle in the morning." You nod and head into the bathroom. You quickly try on the clothes, realizing that they are pleasantly big and they smell like Mark. Why does he smell so good? What are people going to think if they realize that I am wearing some guys clothes that are obviously too big for me? Mark knocking on the bathroom door breaks you out of your thoughts, "Are you okay in there? Do the clothes not fit?" You quickly pull your shirt over your head and open the door. "I'm fine just spaced out, I'm getting tired. The clothes fit fine. Thank you again, Mark." Mark just smiles and nods, "No problem. Let's go to bed it is pretty late." You both make your way to the bed and Mark starts making a barrier using extra pillows and blankets. You both climb into bed and you drift off to sleep, surrounded by Mark's scent.

You wake up to your alarm going off, as you reach to turn it off you are stopped by an arm around your waist. You look and see that Mark's makeshift barrier has been demolished and you are both tangled together. You blush and try to remove yourself from Mark's hold. In the midst of your struggling Mark wakes up, "Morning…...oh shit! My bad!" Mark pulls away from you like you had burned him and starts to apologize. You cannot control your laughter at this point and soon you have tears running down your face. Mark stops panicking and watches as you lay on your back laughing.

~Mark's P.O.V.~

I wake up to someone moving next to me. "Morning." I say sluggishly, only then did I realize that I literally have my legs tangled with Y/N's and my arm is around her waist. "Oh shit! My bad!" I say as I let go of her. I start to throw out apologies, I feel really bad. I hope I didn't make her uncomfortable. My thoughts and apologies are interrupted by Y/N's laughter. She is laughing so hard that there are tears streaming down her face. She is laying on her back and laughing so hard, and yet, I cannot help but think how gorgeous she looks. Woah, stop that Mark! You just met her yesterday, well officially anyway. She is going to be your roommate, you cannot mess this up by getting feelings for her.

"Alright, calm down. You and I both need showers, we have class soon." As I finish talking, Y/N jumps out of bed and runs into the bathroom. I shake my head and go to the kitchen to start some coffee and breakfast.

Y/N comes out of the bathroom 15 minutes later looking fresh and clean. I hand her a plate of food and a mug, "There is hot water in the boiler and I have coffee and tea." Y/N nods and fixes her drink. We eat in silence and then I take my shower.

After showering, Y/N and I walk to campus together. "Text me your schedule and I'll pick you up from your last class." Y/N nods and starts typing on their phone. "I'm going to head over to housing since I don't have any classes until later. Hopefully they don't fight me on moving out of the dorm, I mean I have already paid for housing this semester." Y/N says, finishing typing and I feel my phone go off. I nod and pull out my phone, noting that they only have two classes today and their last class is in the same building as mine, but it lets out 25 minutes after mine.

"Cool, our last classes are in the same building and they end around the same time, I'll pick you up out front. Text me if housing gives you any grief and I'll see if there is anything I can do to help. Maybe I can get some of my friends to help move your stuff tonight, I think most of them are free." Y/N smiles and nods, "Okay, but don't force them to help if they don't want or have time to." I laugh and nod, waving my hand dismissively as I head towards my class. "I'll see you later!" I call over my shoulder and Y/N just laughs.

~Y/N's P.O.V.~

I make my way over to campus housing and see that there is no one at the front desk. I stand there for a minute without seeing anyone, so I head down the hallway trying to find anyone who can help me. I come to an open door and see a man typing on his computer, looking at the nameplate next to the door I see that his name is Jinyoung Park, the housing director. I gently knock on his door, "Excuse me." He quickly turns around and gives me a warm smile.

"Hi, what's up?" He gestures for me to have a seat and I quietly enter his office. "My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I want to request to be moved from the dorms. I found an apartment with a friend off campus." Mr. Park nods and pulls up my dorm information on the computer.

"You live with R/N? Is there any kind of problem or are you just sick of dorm life?" I laugh and nod, "A bit of both actually. R/N keeps kicking me out of the dorm to sleep with her boyfriend and I am tired of crashing in the lounge or someone else's room." Mr. Park nods and starts to type on his computer.

"I'm going to contact your resident direct and resident advisor to let them know what has been taking place. You can move out whenever you're ready, all I need for you to do is sign these documents and return your keys once you finish moving out." I look at Mr. Park in shock. That was surprisingly easy. I sign the papers he gives me and he stands up to walk me out.

When we reach the front he looks around for the secretary only to find her missing. He sighs and shakes his head, "No wonder you just wandered into my office there is no one here to help!" I laugh and he holds out his hand for me to shake, I take his hand and smile, "Thank you so much for your help Mr. Park." He just smiles, "Call me Jinyoung." I nod and give him one last smile before leaving.

~Time Skip~

I walk out of my last class to find Mark playing on his phone while girls are gawking at him. Seriously girls? You're just going to stand there and stare like that? I walk over and nudge Mark's foot, he looks up at me and smiles while standing up. "Hey, how was class?" He asks as he takes my backpack from my shoulder, I start to protest but he just takes off running in the direction of the dorms. "Mark! Get back here with my stuff!" I start to chase after him and out of the corner of my eye I see the girls standing there wide-eyed with their mouths hanging open.

Mark slows down and I am able to catch up to him, but he still refuses to give me my backpack. We reach the dorm and Mark is forced to give me my bag so I can retrieve my keys. We are making our way to my room, when we are stopped by one of my neighbors, "I wouldn't go in there. R/N and her boyfriend just got here." I shrug, "Too bad, I need to get my stuff so I can move out." They look at me in shock, "You're moving out?! Where are you going to live?" I gesture towards Mark and they look him up and down. "When did you get a boyfriend and a hot one at that?" I am about to correct them, but Mark speaks before me. "We've been dating for a while now, I figured since R/N keeps kicking her out and she usually end up at my place anyway, why not just move in." My neighbor nods and smiles, "Well good for you, Y/N. Now you better hurry before things get too sexual in your room." I nod and rush down the hall. I reach my door and bang on it loudly a few times. R/N opens the door obviously disheveled, "Uh, Y/N what are you doing here?" I just stare at them like 'wtf?', "I live here remember?" I say as I shove passed her into the room. She grabs my arm and pulls me back, "My boyfriend is here, so can you like leave?" I pull my arm from her grasp and shake my head. "Nope. I am allowed to be in my dorm room whenever I want. If you don't like it then leave." R/N glares at me and then her boyfriend decides to throw in his opinion, "We always come here once classes are over, why is it such a problem today?" I turn and look at him, "It has always been a problem. Today just happens to be the day I would like to be in my own room." I walk over to my bed and start to pull out my suitcase and storage boxes.

"What are you doing, Y/N?" R/N curiously asks and I just stare at her for a second before answering. "I'm getting my stuff out so I can pack." I start putting the things that I can reach into one of the boxes. "You're moving out?" I just nod and continue packing. "Where are you going to live?" I point to Mark, who has just been standing in the doorway watching the encounter. He waves awkwardly at R/N and her boyfriend. They just stare at him for a second before R/N speaks again, "What the hell, Y/N? You can't just move out." I stand and face them, "Actually, I can. I went to the housing director and told him everything. He has already contacted the resident director and advisor. So, yeah, I can just move out." R/N stares at me for a second before exploding, "You told them everything?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! I'm going to get into so much trouble and it is all your fault!" I stare at them wide-eyed and open my mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Mark.

"Actually, it's your own fault. In my opinion, you're lucky Y/N has waited this long to say something. I would have reported you after you kicked me out almost every other night." R/N’s boyfriend was not happy at Mark's opinion and he made his way over to him, but before he could reach him, the resident director and my resident advisor, Danny, walked in.

"Hello, all. We could here your shouting down the hall. R/N, you and your boyfriend please come with us. Y/N continue packing, if you need any help please call one of us." I nod and they all walk out of the room, leaving Mark and I alone.

"So, is there anything I can do to help?" Marks asks suddenly. I look over and see that he is fighting to not laugh. I start laughing and soon he is laughing too. I nod and gesture to my desk and books, "You can start putting those in this box and I'll start packing my clothes." Mark gives me a mock salute and gets to work.

Once I had finished packing all my clothes and Mark has finished packing my desk away, we both sit on my bed and look at my belongings. "You don't really have much do you?" Mark asks and I just shake my head. "Didn't see a point in bringing a bunch of stuff to a tiny dorm room." Mark nods and we both jump when his phone starts ringing loudly.

"Hey, Jackson." I look at Mark as he talks. He is so handsome. Wait, no, stop that Y/N! He is being nice because he needs someone to help with rent and he is just generally a nice guy. He probably doesn't even find you attractive.

"You guys are outside? Okay, um, give us like 10 minutes we only have a few more things to pack before we can head out." I can't make out the reply, but Mark is nodding, before he realizes they can't see him.

"Yup, they only have a couple boxes and a suitcase. So it shouldn't be too hard to move it all. So we'll be down in a bit. Bye." Mark and I jump off the bed and start to take the bedding off and shove it into a bag. Mark is doing a check of the closet and dresser to make sure I haven't left anything. I check behind the desk and under the bed to make sure nothing is left behind, knowing full well that if I did leave something I would never get it back.

Mark and I finish our check of the room when a knock sounds from the door. I open it to find Danny standing on the other side with a cart. "Hey, R/N and her boyfriend have been taken to the housing office to discuss disciplinary actions for what they have done. We thought it might be helpful if you had a cart to get everything at least to your car." I smile and thank them, then Mark speaks up. "My friends are waiting downstairs, so it will literally just help us get down there so they can grab it." Danny nods and then smiles, "It's good see that you have such a caring boyfriend, Y/N. How did you guys meet?" I look at Mark and he smiles, "We meet through some mutual friends and I thought she was really sweet and I could not stop thinking about her." Mark smiled at me and then Danny started cooing. "Okay, I think we should get this stuff loaded so we don't keep the guys waiting." I say quickly while placing one of the boxes on the cart. Mark laughs and starts to help load the cart.

We were making our way to the entrance of the dorm when a thought hit me, "What do I do with my keys? The housing director told me to bring them to the office but if R/N and her boyfriend are there I definitely do not want to go." Danny nods, "I'll take them and then call the housing director to see what he wants me to do. I agree with you though, you don't want to be anywhere near them right now." I nod and we walk outside to see four guys chasing each other while two others are watching them with disappointed looks. The two not chasing each other turn around when they here the door open. They see Mark and start to make their way over to us.

"Wow, Mark you weren't joking, she really doesn’t have much." An intimidating guy says. The guy next to him nods, "You're right, but she lives in a tiny dorm room so why would she need that much?" They both nod and Mark just sighs.

"Yah! Jackson, Youngjae, BamBam, Yugyeom! Stop being stupid and come help!" The intimidating guy yells, causing the four guys to stop and run over to us. Almost immediately they start grabbing boxes off the cart and walking in the direction of the apartment.

"Well, I guess you're all set, Y/N. I just need your keys and you are good to go." Danny says as he watches the guys carry my stuff away. I pull my keys out and remove the dorm keys, handing them to Danny. "Thanks for your help, Danny." Danny smiles and nods, "It was no problem, honestly you should have came to us as soon as R/N kicked you out of your room, but it's over now so whatever." I smile and laugh, "I would have but I didn't want to make an enemy that early in the semester." Danny laughs and nods, "I hope this new place is better for you." I nod and Mark wraps an arm around me, "It will be." Mark says while smiling down at me. I feel myself blush and Danny laughs, "Well you two better go catch up to your friends, bye Y/N!"

Mark and I wave to Danny then we quickly see how far away the guys are and we quickly jog to catch up to them.

"So Mark, are you going to introduce us?" The intimidating guy asked with a smirk. Mark shoves him lightly but introduces me anyway.

"This is Y/N. She saw my flyer in the dorm and called because her roommate kept kicking her out to fuck their boyfriend. She is friends with Phoenix and his brothers, have been since they were teens." The guys nodded and Mark started to introduce them, "This is Jaebum or JB, Jinyoung, Jackson, Youngjae, BamBam, and Yugyeom." I smile at them as we walk up to the apartment complex. So JB is the intimidating guy, Jinyoung was the guy standing with JB when Jackson, Youngjae, BamBam and Yugyeom were chasing each other outside of the dorm.

We get into the elevator and head to our floor. "BamBam is a unique name, is there a story behind your name?" BamBam and the guys laugh. "I am Thai and we get an official name for government documents and then a nickname that everyone calls us, my nickname is BamBam."

"That's pretty cool." I tell him with a smile. We reach the floor and Mark unlocks the door. The guys start carrying the boxes inside, only to realize they haven't been to Mark's new apartment yet.

"Where's the second bedroom?" Jackson asks while adjusting his hold on the box. Mark points down the hallway, "Down the hall, second door on the left." The guys nod and take the boxes to the room.

"I can't believe I moved out of my dorm and into an apartment with someone who I didn't officially meet until yesterday." I say in shock as I sit on the couch. Mark laughs and sits next to me while placing an arm over my shoulder. The guys come back and they all start to 'ooh' at us. Mark just flicks them off and pulls me closer. "You guys are just jealous because I have a gorgeous roommate and you losers are stuck with each other." The guys shout in response and Mark just laughs. He just called me gorgeous! Does he realize what he just said? I look at Mark in shock and he winks at me. Oh, so he's a flirt now.

We all hang out for a couple of hours before the guys need to head out, promising to help move the bed in tomorrow since they don’t have many classes. After they leave, Mark and I are sitting on the couch in silence.

"Thank you for everything, Mark." I say quietly and Mark just looks at me and smiles. "I haven’t done that much, I just helped you out of an annoying situation so that you can help me afford rent." Mark and I laugh, but I shake my head. "You’ve done more than a normal person would have, I mean you got your friends to help me move and you are even letting me use a bed, plus you are not making me pay a full 50% of the rent like I should." Mark just shrugs and puts an arm around my shoulder.

We sit like that for a while when suddenly I start to yawn. Mark laughs and stands up from the couch, trying to pull me with him. "Just leave me here, I’m too tired to move." I whine as Mark pulls on my arm. "No Y/N, you’re back will kill you in the morning if I leave you here." I continue to whine for a few more minutes before Mark gives up and leans down to pick me up. "Mark, no stop it." He ignores me and literally carries me to his bedroom, I can feel my face burning as he places me down on the bed. I quickly roll over onto my stomach to hide my face. Mark laughs and jumps on the bed next to me, "Why are you hiding your face? Wait, are you blushing? Why are you blushing?" Mark pokes at my side and I wiggle to get away from his fingers. I wiggled too far and before I can catch myself I am falling off the bed. I hit the floor with a soft thud and Mark quickly jumps up and rushes to my side.

"Are you okay? Did you hit your head or anything?" I shake my head and start to laugh. Mark looks at me for a second before starting to laugh too. He helps me stand and I sit on the edge of the bed. "You know, you carried me in here but my clothes are in my room." Mark stops to think for a second before he turns to me. "Well, do you want me to carry you to your room?" He asks as he moves towards me. I quickly jump away and move across the bed away from him. "Nope, I’m good." Mark laughs and moves to the door, "Well let me show you your room since we never looked at it last night." I get off the bed and we walk to my room.

When get to the room and it is empty aside from the boxes from my dorm. Mark walks to the closet and opens it. "So the closet has built in shelves and drawers, so you don’t have to worry about needing a dresser or chest of drawers. You can use the bathroom in the hall since the on-suite is in my room, unless you want to switch rooms cause we can do that too." Mark looks at me and I shake my head. "No, Mark. I will not take your bedroom." Mark just laughs, "Y/N, I moved in yesterday so it’s not like I’m attached to the room. Honestly, I should have moved my stuff in here when you agree to move in. So let’s move your stuff to the other room and then you can help me move my stuff in here." I opened my mouth to protest but Mark just shushes me and starts grabbing boxes. "Come on. It’s not too late and we should be able to move my stuff pretty quick since it’s mostly on hangers." I nod and grab a box and follow Mark to his, I mean, my room. "I’ll start moving my stuff and you can grab the rest of your stuff. When the guys help move the bed tomorrow we can just leave this one in here because I think this was my roommates and not mine, it’s not broken in as well." Mark laughs and I move to grab the rest of the boxes.

After moving everything and getting all of my stuff put away, Mark is looking at my sad excuse of a wardrobe. "Y/N, you have like no clothes." I shoot him a glare and he laughs. "Sorry, I only brought the essentials and I don’t really need more than clothes to wear to class or work since I don’t really go out much." Mark nods and I can see that he wants to say something. "Just say whatever you’re thinking Mark." Mark looks at me and sighs. "I was going to ask why you don’t go out much. I mean, your a pretty girl and you have a great personality, it just doesn’t make sense to me why no guy has snatched you up yet." I blush before answering. "Guys don’t like girls like me. They want girls who like parties, not girls who like books." Mark moves to sit next to me. "Sorry if it feels like I’m prying. I just don’t understand guys sometimes, there are great girls out there and they go for the ones who are easy to get into bed." I laugh and rest my head on his shoulder, "Thanks, Mark." Mark laughs and wraps an arm around me. "You’ve already thanked me." I laugh and we stand up to get ready for bed.

The next day the guys help Mark move the bed into his room and when I get back from class the guys are literally piled around the living room. I guess this is something I’ll have to get used to. I take my bag to my room and change into my comfy clothes. I go back out into the living room and move to sit on the floor next to Yugyeom, when I am pulled into someone’s lap. I turn around and see Jackson holding me close, I look at him strangely and he laughs. I look around and notice that Mark isn’t there. "Where is Mark?" JB looks up from his phone and smiles, "He went to grab some food from a place down the street. He should be back soon." I nod and we settle into a quiet conversation about classes. A few minutes later there is a bang at the door, Jinyoung gets up and answers it. The door opens to show Mark struggling with a lot of bags of food. I quickly jump off of Jackson’s lap and take some the bags from Mark. He barely acknowledges me as he is glaring at Jackson. Why is he glaring at Jackson? Could he be jealous? No way. I ignore it and head to the kitchen to unpack the bags.

~Mark’s P.O.V.~

I get back to the apartment, with help from some neighbors to get into the building, but I have no hands to open the door and the neighbor who let me in is watching from the end of the hall, so I kick at it once and hope one of the guys will answer. Luckily, they do and the neighbor who let me in nods and heads to their apartment. The door opens and I see that Jinyoung was the one who had opened the door, I step into the apartment, only to find Jackson with Y/N on his lap. Y/N quickly jumps up to help me with the bags and I ignore her in favor of glaring at Jackson. What game is he playing? Y/N isn’t his type so he has to be up to something. I move towards the kitchen and find Y/N unpacking the bags she took from my arms. "Hey, how was class?" I ask her and she looks up, taking more bags from my arms before answering. "Boring. How about you?" I hum and help her unpack the bags. "Not too bad, got out early and was able to go to the gym for a bit before these guys came over to help get that bed for my room. How long have you been home? I’m trying to learn your schedule." Great lie, idiot. "I got home like 15 minutes ago, I think. I hadn’t even noticed you weren’t here until Jackson forced me into his lap when I tried to sit on the floor." Y/N laughs and I nod. "I should have warned you that I had left and they would be here. Let’s print our schedules out so we can keep track of when each other should be home." Y/N nods and we call the guys in to eat.

After the guys left, Y/N and I sit in the living room finishing homework. The silence should be awkward, but it’s not. I look over at Y/N and I can’t help but be enthralled by her. She is so pretty, but I can’t fall for her. It might make her uncomfortable and I don’t want that.

Y/N looks up and catches me staring, "What?" I quickly shake my head, "Uh, do you know anything about economics? I can’t figure out this problem." Y/N immediately shake her head. "Not at all, my best friend’s fiancé did my economics homework for me. He tried to teach me but it made not sense so he just did my weekly assignments for me the night before it was due." Y/N laughs and I smile at her. She gets up and stretches, "Well, I’m gonna head to bed. Will I see you in the morning?" I nod and smile, "Yup and I’ll pick you up after class so you don’t have to walk home alone." Y/N shakes her head, "You are really playing up this girlfriend thing. How are you going to get a girlfriend if you are treating me like your girlfriend?” I just laugh and shrug, "Who cares? A lot of girls don’t care for a real relationship anyway." Y/N shakes her head and with a final goodbye she walks down the hall and I hear the door close. I sit on the couch for a few more minutes before I head to my room and go to bed.

~Time Skip 2 Months Later~

~Y/N’s P.O.V.~

I have been living with Mark for about 2 months now and it has been great. I have gained some new friends and I haven’t been kicked out of my own place. Mark and I have a great system, we walk to campus and home together when our classes end at similar times, we cook together and we hangout on the weekends. To someone on the outside, it probably looks like a loving relationship and for some weird reason Mark is okay with that.

Today is an unusual day, both of my classes got cancelled so I decided to spend the day cleaning the apartment. It’s not like the apartment is a mess, Mark and I keep it tidy, but the floors need to be swept and mopped, the surfaces need to be washed or dusted, and bathrooms definitely need to be scrubbed. I start by treating the bathrooms with cleaner and then start mopping and sweeping. After a few hours, I have everything clean and I am about to start cooking when there is a knock a the door. I move to answer it, only to realize I am only wearing a sports bra and a pair of short shorts. I grab the first thing I can find, which happens to be Mark’s favorite button up, I run to the door and open it quickly. I open it to reveal a girl about my age, "Hi, can I help you?" She looks me up and down for a second before answering, "I was looking for Mark, is he here?" Something in my mind clicks and I low-key start to panic, but I know I have to stay calm. "He’s in class right now, he won’t be back until later. I’m his girlfriend, is there any way I can help you?" She looks at me wide eyed before answering, "You’re Mark’s girlfriend?" I nod and I can see that she is getting upset. "How long have you guys been together?" She looks at me and I try to stay calm. "3 months or so? We’ve been friends for a while. What did you say your name was? How do you know Mark?" She starts to fidget before something like clicks in her mind. When she looks at me it is like she is a different person. "Listen, Mark belongs with me. So why don’t you do him a favor and just leave? I won’t ask nicely again and if I have to ask again it won’t be pretty." I look at her wide eyed as she threatens me so openly. I could shut the door in her face and call the cops but I don’t know if I would be able to shut the door fast enough. I look at her and she has this smirk on her face. I decide that I have to stand up for myself and Mark. "You listen to me. I will not leave Mark and I will not be threatened. Now I recommend you leave my place and if you ever come near me or Mark again I will call the cops, because unlike Mark, I do not care about your future and I will have you locked up. Leave now."

She looks at me in shock for a second before her personality switches again. She starts to laugh and suddenly she lunges for me. She grabs my hair and pulls me into the hall, I scream and hope that one of my neighbors hear. She tries to punch me but I am able to grab her arms to keep her away from me. I hear a door down the hall open and I see Mrs. Peters look out with her son, Chris, behind her. Mrs. Peters realizes what’s happening and Chris comes running to my aid as Mrs. Peters calls the police. Chris is able to pull her off of me as more neighbors come out to investigate. One of my neighbors helps Chris hold Rina in place as other rush to me, I have a gash on my forehead from hitting something during our struggle. A few minutes later the cops show up and put Rina in handcuffs and take her to their car.

When Mark shows up the police are talking to my neighbors and the paramedics are checking on me. He comes rushing down the hall but the cops stop him. "That’s my girlfriend, what happened?" After hearing his words they let him through and he rushes to my side where a paramedic is looking at my head. "What happened?" Mark asks quickly and a police officer comes over. "Ms. Y/L/N, can you tell us what happened?" I nod, "I was about to start cooking dinner when she knocked on the door. She asked for Mark and I instantly knew she was the girl that has been stalking him. I tell her that I am his girlfriend and that he won’t be home until later, when she suddenly goes crazy telling me that she belongs with Mark and that I need to leave him or it won’t be pretty for me. I tell her that I will not leave Mark and that she needs to leave and if I see her again I will call the cops. Then she goes crazy again and attacked me, Mrs. Peters and Chris came out and he pulled her off me and then some other neighbors come out to help. They helped put pressure on my head and then you all showed up. Oh no, Mark this is your favorite shirt! It probably has blood on it!" Mark laughs and shakes his head. "It’s okay, I have two of those shirts so it’s cool. I’m just glad you’re okay, I mean you’re hurt because of me." I shake my head and I am about to answer when the paramedic interrupts, "Miss, we are going to need to take you to the hospital to get this gash taken care of, your boyfriend is free to come along but we should get that looked at by a doctor." I nod again and look at Mark, "Mark can you run inside and get my bag? I’m going to need my insurance card and stuff, oh and can you grab me some sweatpants? I really don’t want to be wearing short shorts when we have to come home." Mark nods and goes to the apartment, soon coming out with my bag and a pair of his sweatpants.

~Narrator P.O.V.~

You get into the ambulance and they take you the emergency room where you are lucky to not need stitches, only a little glue and tape. Mark stays by your side the entire time, apologizing whenever the nurse or doctor leaves. It was honestly getting on your nerves. Mark apologizes again and you snap, "Mark, if you apologize one more time I will have them remove you. This is not your fault, I could have went into the apartment and shut the door, but I chose to challenge her. Look at it this way, she’s in jail and she will be for a long time, I mean she came right to your door knowing damn well that you have a restraining order and then she threatened and attacked me. This is not your fault." Mark nods and he takes your hand. With sad eyes, he looks at it and takes in the scratches and bruises forming. You interlace your fingers and Mark looks up at you, you can see the tears in his eyes. With your other hand you wipe the tear that has escaped and Mark nuzzles into your hand.

"Mark, why are you so upset? I mean she didn’t hurt me that much and she won’t bother you again. So why are you crying?" Mark looks at you and smiles, pulling your intertwined hands to his mouth and placing a kiss on your knuckles. "How can I not be upset when someone I love gets hurt?"

~Y/N’s P.O.V.~

LOVE?! Did he just say he loves me?

"Love? Mark what are you saying?" Mark looks at me and laughs, "Come on, Y/N. You’re smart, you know what I mean." I cannot believe what I am hearing and I stare at Mark with wide eyes. Do I like Mark? Yes. How long have I had feelings for him? Probably since I woke up with his arms around me that first day. This cannot be real.

I apparently said that last thought out loud because Mark laughs. "This is real, babe. You didn’t hit your head that hard." I look at Mark and he smiles at me. "I like you, Mark. A lot." Mark gives me a huge smile and leans over to place a kiss of my forehead, carefully avoiding my wound. We sit in the room for another 15 minutes before a nurse comes in telling us that we are free to go once the doctor finishes recording the visit. I turn to Mark, "How are we getting home? We both got here in the ambulance." Mark laughs, "I texted the boys while we were in the ambulance. They got here a few minutes ago, they’ll take us home." I nod and the nurse comes in with the discharge papers. I pull on Mark’s sweats and we head out to the waiting room. The boys rush to my side and they each gently pull me into a hug before we head back to the apartment. JB and Jinyoung stopped and picked up pizza for everyone since I wasn’t able to cook.

When we get to the apartment, there are notes stuck to the door from our neighbors and ever some flowers sitting outside. Wow they work fast. We get the notes off the door and take the flowers inside, where I have to tell the story all over again for the boys and they praise me for being brave. They also cheer at the fact that I didn’t need stitches. After a few hours of hanging out, the boys decide to go home, leaving Mark and I in silence. Mark and I are sitting on opposite sides of the couch, but he feels too far away, so I gently move to his side and wrap myself around him. Mark laughs and puts his arm around me, pulling me closer. We sit like that for a few minutes before I feel myself drifting in and out of sleep. Mark seems to notice because he gently gets up and pulls me with him, "Come on, let’s get you to bed." I quietly follow him, he leads me to my room and helps me into bed. He goes to walk out and I grab his wrist and whine. "Stay with me." Mark laughs and turns around, "Let me go get changed and I’ll be right back. Okay?" I nod and he places a kiss to my cheek before going to change. I decide that I should probably change too, I get up and pull off my sports bra. I am standing in my closet debating on what to wear when I here Mark coming back. I grab a big t-shirt and a pair of night shorts. I grab his shirt that I took off and moved to the bathroom to try and get the blood out. Mark comes into the room seeing me in the bathroom. He knocks on the door and I look at him. "What are you doing? I thought we were going to bed?" I nod and continue to pull out the peroxide. "I want to try to get this blood out before it sets in even more." Mark laughs and walks to stand behind you. "I told you not to worry about it, I have two of these shirts. Come to bed." I shake my head and continue rinsing the blood out of the shirt. "I know you have two but just think how cute we’d look if we were matching. Plus, it’s already almost out. See?" I hold up the shirt, showing him that the blood was almost completely gone. Mark stares at the shirt wide eyed. "How the heck? How do you know how to do that?" I look at Mark with a raised eyebrow. "Do I really need to explain how I know how to remove blood from clothes?" Mark flushes red and shakes his head. “Nope.” I laugh and finish cleaning the shirt before taking it and throwing it into the washer.

I get back to the room to find Mark laying in bed, I smile and join him. He pulls me close and I nuzzle into his chest. “I’m so happy that it’s the weekend. I would have needed to take a mental health day from classes. I can only imagine what it’s going to be like explaining this on Monday.” I say pointing at my forehead. Mark laughs and kisses the top of my head. “Just tell them that you fought a bear and won or that you take martial arts classes and had to use what you have learned to save a child.” I look at Mark like he is crazy and he just laughs. I shake my head and nuzzle into his chest. “Thank you, Mark.” Mark looks down at me and smiles. “What are you thanking me for now?” I shrug and hold him tight. “I don’t know, everything I guess. I mean you helped me move out of my dorm, gave me a wonderful place to live, you have helped me with classwork, helped me make new friends, and you have cared for me.” Mark laughs and pulls me up so that we are face to face. “I should be thanking you. You have helped me by moving in here, you help cook, clean, and you help me with the guys and homework. Oh, and how can I forget that you have shown me how important a single person can be to me. I mean, ever since you moved in have felt like I need to protect and care for you and I didn’t want anyone else to touch you. Do you remember the second day we lived here? When the guys helped move the bed in? Jackson had pulled you into his lap and I was so mad. I knew he was up to something because you aren’t his type, at all. I think he could sense that I had feelings for you. I was ready to punch him for touching you.” Mark laughs as he recounts the day. “I always told myself that I couldn’t fall for you because I was afraid to make you uncomfortable and that you would leave. I know that was dumb, but I just didn’t want to lose you. I sound crazy, don’t I?” Mark asks and I shake my head. “No, just passionate.” We both laughed and I felt myself slowly drifting to sleep, just as my thoughts became fuzzy, I hear Mark whisper, “I love you, Y/N.” I smile to myself and nuzzle deeper into his chest, happy to be in the arms of someone as amazing as Mark and knowing that this is just the beginning of a great relationship.

#got7 #got7 mark #got7 imagine #got7 fic #got7 fanfic #mark tuan #mark tuan imagine #mark tuan x reader

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killjoy-loveit · 5 years

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In the Clouds

A/N: I would like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction and isn’t to be taken as a true portrayal of reality. This is slightly angsty towards the end, but for the most part it’s fluff.

Excerpt: The way a final love differentiates is that it starts out like any love hereafter the third, but instead of watching it fall apart because of poor sculpting, you keep working on it. It’s like a beautiful dance, twirling on and on until you reach the clouds and refuse to come down.

Word Count: 1,134

Genre: Fluff & Angst

Being in love for the first time is magical. Something that cannot be forgotten. It’s influential in ways that might not be easily seen. A first love is sweet, kind, almost innocent in the way you express yourself. Second loves are similar in a sense of the sweet nature they live in, but it disregards previous innocence. The third forgoes both the sweetness and innocence, instead indulging in an intense passion that threatens to burn you from the inside. Any love hereafter is a combination of the first three. Until you get to the final love- the one that lasts.

A final love is different than the others in how it presents itself. It has that perfect combination of sweetness and passion, with an added element of dedication. Dedication is the crucial part to this mix, though you’d get nowhere without the other pieces. The way a final love differentiates is that it starts out like any love hereafter the third, but instead of watching it fall apart because of poor sculpting, you keep working on it. It’s like a beautiful dance, twirling on and on until you reach the clouds and refuse to come down.

Long since had you surpassed the third love, slowly treading towards that fateful day to meeting your final love. Little did you know it would happen sooner than you expected. You knew the day you met that your life would never be the same. This is it, you had thought to yourself. He was standing there, his hair dark as night, large glasses covering his eyes, in an oversized shirt half-tucked into skinny jeans. You felt he had a calming aura, one mixed with sophistication and charm, the kind that instantly leaves someone feeling at ease.

Introducing yourself had gone smoothly, and you learned he was a fashion design major at the same university you went to. Consequently you started internally kicking yourself for not noticing him previously because it wasn’t a large campus. But the conversation had taken off and soon a study session was planned once it was found out you two had a shared class, albeit in two different time slots, but it was still the same class. It was a beginning philosophy course, one that had come highly recommended to you by a close friend, and it helped fulfill one of your humanities credits.

That study session became a regular thing, and it was the one part of your week you looked forward to the most. Each time you met and there was a concept you were having trouble grasping, he would always give a gentle smile before explaining it in a different way. Then there were the times where you both had become more comfortable with each other, where you started to invite each other out with groups of friends. You came to find that he was witty, such comments coming out when you least expected them, which tended to make you burst into laughter.

It was simple, the moment you became more than friends. He was walking you back to your dorm late at night, after having spent the past few hours watching the sun fade as you talked about the wonders of the world. It was when you’d reached your door that he’d finally broken the peaceful silence encompassing the two of you.

“Sometimes I think I see the universe in your eyes.”

Such a simple sentence, and yet it made your heart race. Your eyes drifted up to meet his as you turned to face him.

“Sometimes I think you exist on a different plane than the rest of us.”

His hand slowly reached out and cupped your cheek, eyes searching as his face neared yours, you nodded softly, letting him know that this was okay. Seeing this, all hesitancy was swept aside and his lips met yours in a gentle kiss. And just like this, everything began anew. It was similar to how it had been before, the only difference was almost nonstop communication and small displays of physical affection.

A code was developed between the two of you, one that easily alerted you of the other’s situation. It was quite random, sometimes a code could be a single letter, or it could vary between fruits, colors, or long words you both thought were ridiculous. The longer the code word, the more serious the situation, and the reverse held true. Thus, when one day you had to send out the word ‘absquatulate’, he knew that something of grave importance had happened. It didn’t take him long to reach your new apartment, where he found you curled in a ball on your couch.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you rocked back and forth, holding your knees tight to your chest. No words were spoken as he came to your side, wrapping his arms around you, hands smoothing down your back intermittently. You stayed this way for the better part of two hours, just trying to calm down enough for the tears to stop. Eventually the tears dried on your cheeks and your breathing calmed. Softly, so softly he thought he hadn’t heard you right, you told him why you sent the word ‘absquatulate’. His eyes went wide as he asked you to repeat yourself.

“He’s dead, Minghao. My dad is dead.”

With those words spoken, you buried your face into his chest as a fresh wave of tears sprung from your eyes. Throughout the next few weeks he never left your side. He made sure you were taking care of yourself, forcing you to eat and get out of bed when all you wanted to do was lie down and stare at the wall. You didn’t make it easy on him either, your emotions being heightened to the point that you snapped easily and then began crying mere moments later. But he never let up, he was always there for you, ready to catch you when you fell.

Time passed, as it always does, and with his help you found yourself beginning to heal. Months went by until you were starting to act almost like you had prior to your father’s death. Things were slowly returning to normal. Well, a new normal that is, one slightly resembling the old, just missing something. The code even managed to sneak its way back into your everyday life, and thankfully no word surpassed five letters.

At the end of the day you could say that your love had been built slowly and steadily. Brick by brick, creating a steady foundation to allow it to grow unrestricted, until it reached the sky. It had developed in such a way that you could safely say this love of yours had made it’s residence in the clouds- where dreams came true and creativity ran unbounded.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen minghao #svt minghao #seventeen the8 #svt the8 #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #svt angst #seventeen angst

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flydotnet · 5 years

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Hidden Guardians of Humanity

VRAINS Rarepair Weeks 2018 - Day 7: Other YGO series crossover/Other Fandom AU

Summary: Six teenagers regularly save the world from the misanthropic virus-like AI XANA on a virtual world. This is their story through one of these missions against humanity's greatest danger yet.

Fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS/Code Lyoko Ships: Hireshipping (Ema/Akira), Entrustshipping (Takeru/Kiku), Zinniashipping (Miyu/Aoi)

Wordcount: 3.8K words

Notes: "On ira, on saura, sauver notre existence, Se donner une chance de tout dépasser. On ira, on saura, sauver notre existence, Afin de faire, Un monde sans danger !"

I was stumbled at first with what to do for today. All the crossover ideas I had weren't very good... until I thought about Code Lyoko and how it was a perfect fit with VRAINS. A virtual world? Check. Keeping stuff secret from other people? Check. A recurring theme of AIs? Check. I rediscovered CL this year by watching the episodes now all up on YT (I think that's only for the original French dub, though). It's been a big part of my childhood and I surprised myself to like it even more as an adult. It was pretty messed up if you think about it: a bunch of teenagers ranging from 13 to 15 saving the world in secret on a daily basis while risking their lives to do so? That's dark for a kid's show dude. The series wasn't hiding it anyway: I can't count the exact number of ways XANA (a big bad virus-like AI) tried to kill the protagonists in. Anyway.

I changed a few settings. Kadic is supposed to be a middle school (collège), but since it's supposed to be a high school too (funny enough, the school it's based on, the Lycée Lakanal, is where I set a part of my original work), well why not. It fitted much better with the VRAINS cast too. I also took some liberties with the original 2003 run of the show to provide more modern technology like smartphones.

This story is, in short, a love letter to Code Lyoko and to my VRAINS OTPs. I may have forgotten to put the romance into that fic though.

PS. The quote in the beginning is the chorus to the Code Lyoko opening, "Un Monde Sans Danger" (A World Without Dangers). That song has been burnt into my soul ever since I was a kid.

Event hosted by @vrainsrarepairweeks

AO3 version available here.

It was yet another day of class at Kadic High School, Boulogne-Billancourt, Hauts-de-Seine. Nothing out of the ordinary, for once: boring Physics lessons, typical teenage drama, rumours going through the school about teachers and students alike. In that, it made no difference to any other day before it and any other day that would come after it. However, the routine was only a façade in this school near Paris.

Very few knew about the shortcut in the heater room of the dormitory or the one in the school’s park leading the abandoned factory nearby, resting in an island in the Seine. Most people would have just assumed that place was, well, abandoned and empty. The fact was that: that was wrong. That fact was proven untrue by the presence of a bunch of teenagers going there to save the world on a daily basis.

However, today was a tranquil day in class of rumours and drama. There was always Naoki Shima spreading some kind of rumour on his idol, an e-sport player named Playmaker, which was mostly talked about by fangirls of him around the campus. Meanwhile, a little group of six students was gathering in their usual spot: near the coffee machine, on a bench, waiting for bell never to ring the beginning of classes.

They had formed this little group of friends of theirs in unlikely circumstances. It all started when Ema, from the twelfth-grade class majoring in computer sciences, discovered a way to access the abandoned factory in the river easily after a boring day of school. She apparently had to drag with her Akira, her classmate and a friend since middle school, there. Afterwards, they accidentally dragged with them Aoi, Akira’s younger sister in tenth grade, when she followed them to the factory on one day and stuck with them ever since. With Aoi came her own classmates Takeru and Kiku, who followed suit after they themselves found out about the factory by being friendly to the otherwise isolated Aoi.

“Hey, guys,” Takeru opened the conversation as he looked at the other students in the courtyard. “It’s been a while since XANA last attacked… You think he’s going to come back soon?”

“I hope not,” Kiku replied with the most honesty in the world. “He almost killed sent everyone to space last time… We were lucky you were competing in the martial arts tournament that time, Takeru!”

“XANA will always come back until the Supercomputer isn’t turned off, I’m afraid,” Akira stated as he came back with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Then that means you need to find the program to materialize Miyu soon!” Ema enthusiastically added as she thanked Akira for the cup of coffee. “It’s on me next time.”

“I’m doing what I can, but it’s going to take longer than expected. Last night was a fluke again,” he sighed as he rubbed his eyes with the hand not busy holding a cup. The yawn would be for another day.

“It’s fine, big brother,” Aoi simply said as she looked at him with a tiny smile. “You’re already doing your best, and Miyu has told us that before.”

“Your sister is right, Akira, don’t overexert yourself for that! I don’t want to recover your unconscious body on the floor of your room again and almost get scolded by Jim again for sneaking into the boys’ dorm for that!”

Takeru and Kiku simply giggled at the anecdote despite how many times Ema had already told them about it.

During Maths class, as usual, Ema was on her phone during yet another boring lecture from the teacher. There had to be someone watching over Lyoko when nobody could be at the factory in case an activated tower, XANA’s gateway to their world and all the potential damage that would always bring with it, showed up in the virtual world. That was a nice way to spend time: instead of sitting through a painfully tedious session of mathematics, she could just chat with Miyu and whoever else was online. It was funnier to be there and occasionally see Akira stare at her to be serious during a class for once.

He only didn’t ask her to stop on the spot because she otherwise could refuse to lend him their philosophy lessons whenever he’d simply stop understanding most of it. The confusing words and concepts didn’t work very well with his arithmetic brain. It was a fine compromise, though.

Right when she was about to point out something funny Aoi had said in the chatroom with Miyu, she heard a strange buzzing sound. The neon over their hands started flickering ever so slightly, before the infection spread to the entire ceiling of the classroom.

“You know what this means?” she asked Akira in a whisper.

“A XANA attack. Did Miyu tell you about an activated tower?”

Her eyes immediately darted to the screen, only for a message to confirm their fears. Akira didn’t add anything more.

“Then what excuse do we throw?” she asked again, eyeing the little app she had on her phone she had freshly finished programming in her spare time (or whatever was left of it these days).

Before she could ask anything, the bell rang. Their eyes bolted in different directions, checking for two different parameters: hers to the teacher, his to the hour on his phone. The former didn’t have a watch, the second didn’t match the time class ended at. As everyone was packing their things together to change classrooms, another ring resonated through the corridors: the fire alarm.

“Okay, it’s definitely a XANA attack”, Akira stated the obvious. “Warn everyone to meet together at the factory before we can get spotted by teachers or monitors.”

“Roger that.”

It always took some time to reach the factory and gather everyone. That was why they had this habit of only meeting in the main computer room instead of in front of the factory, giving them more time to fight against whatever XANA had to throw at them on Lyoko. Akira and Ema had arrived first and launched themselves in the elevator to the main rooms before getting joined by Aoi shortly thereafter.

“Takeru and Kiku will be a bit late,” she told them, “I think they had class on a higher floor and had more troubles exiting the school.”

Moments after, the three had taken their respective spots: Akira at the main computer, Ema and Aoi in the cylindrical scans on the floor under the computer room. He had never been a man of actions and was the only one with a real knowledge of how to use the technical beast that was the Supercomputer. Meanwhile, Ema had always loved the thrill of action: fighting creatures on Lyoko was good way for her to exhort her thirst for a way to break away from the real world, even if it was just for a few minutes. Aoi was calmer, but still followed through when she learnt this could help both her brother and the friend she had found in Miyu.

“Are you ready to get virtualized?” he asked them as they set foot in the room, footsteps resonating on the iron floor.

“Of course!” Ema replied with thrill in her voice.

“I am,” Aoi responded more seriously.

“Then let’s get on with it.”

Four scanners presented themselves to the two girls. Each climbing in one, the virtualization process didn’t take more than thirty seconds anymore. They were used to it: getting transferred inside a virtual world wasn’t painful, at best it was dizzying the first few times. Soon enough, Aoi and Ema found themselves in a forest-like environment, all changed up to battle attire. It wasn’t just for show: if Aoi had wings, it was because she could use them to fly. Ema, who hadn’t design herself in her subconscious mind to get those, was kind of envious.

“Miyu should be nearby waiting for backup,” Akira’s voice arrived from the sky of Lyoko’s Forest territory. “Be careful to monsters, XANA has been waiting for us.”

“As usual,” Ema sighed, amused. “Let’s do this, Aoi.”

As they ran to their destination, a tower with a red halo, a girl with long pink hair in pigtails and blue eyes joined them. Aoi’s eyes started to shimmer as soon as they noticed her coming towards them, changing her sprinting direction to directly meet up with their friend. They had a habit of hugging each other as soon as they saw each other too. They had gotten more and more physical when meeting up in Lyoko, to the point of holding each other’s hands nowadays when seeing the others. Ema was certain that, would Miyu know about love like any other girl (despite being a sentient AI that was, frankly, more human than some actual humans she knew), they would already be dating. She remembered overhearing Aoi train herself to declare her love to her friend in her dorm room, after all.

“I’m glad to know you’re alright, Miyu!” Aoi told her as they went back to reaching the tower.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Aoi, Ema! XANA has sent three Bloks who are guarding the tower, we need to be careful!”

Turning her eyes away from the two friends, Ema noticed one of the Bloks shooting at them.

“Out of the way!!”

Pushing Aoi and Miyu out of the line of fire from the creature sent to them, she took a direct hit to the shoulder from a laser beam, falling to the ground. Trying to shoot back with her own laser arrows at the creature, she was at least relieved to see Aoi and Miyu had made it behind a tree to find a way to shelter themselves from the incoming attacks.

“Ema!!” Aoi’s scream was accompanied by the mirror of Miyu’s mirror reflecting the hit the older girl was about to take, which would have certainly devirtualized her. The Blok took the hit right in its eye, exploding shortly after.

The commotion from this encounter passed, the three girls hid behind the very same tree. There were mock Bloks in the area, almost twice as much as they had first expected. As she watched from behind their little hiding spot, Ema could only notice this would be harder than expected with Miyu virtually unable to fight for herself and herself having taken a hit already.

“That was such a close call!” Miyu sighed in relief. “We really need to be more careful…”

She was holding onto Aoi’s hand as she said so, her sceptre in her other hand. Nobody knew where that weapon came from, really, but they had brushed it off as a mere way to self-defend against XANA’s monsters who, as it turned out, mostly used laser beams with long ranges to attempt ending her own life.

“Let’s be more careful until Takeru and Kiku can get here,” Aoi decided, with the two others nodding in agreement.

“Sorry we’re late…!” Takeru said as he entered the main computer room, breathless.

Akira immediately turned around, his one-ear headphone-microphone still on, a smirk drawing on his face. Backup was finally here.

“Jim tried to prevent us from reaching the factory when we tried to go through the heater room shortcut,” Kiku further explained.

“I see. Ema and Aoi required backup, there’s apparently too many monsters for them to deal with.

She glanced at her childhood friend whose back was against the wall, still not recovering his breath.

“Are you okay, Takeru?” she asked with concern all over her tone, hands on her chest.

“I… I’ll be fine… Let’s get to the scanners quickly, I’m sure Aoi, Ema and Miyu need our help…”

Even if nobody added anything, Akira turning back to the monitor to make sure this wasn’t a burning failure yet, Kiku remained worried. As the elevator went down another floor, she couldn’t get her eyes off Takeru and how flimsy his breathing was. He had never had a pristine health record, and that despite how good he was at martial arts, which made it so she was always concerned in some degree for his condition.

When the doors opened to reveal the scanner room, she handed her friend her help. He gave her a slight smile, a quiet way to tell her not to worry, as they climbed into their own cylinders to get virtualized. There was no time to lose and no time to get concerned for Takeru when there was a tower to deactivate and XANA going on a rampage to make everyone deaf by the end of the day through abusing ringing systems, ringtones and speakers.

The two soon enough ended in the Forest territory of Lyoko, with instructions given by Akira to join back the others. Running on their legs, the virtualization keeping them away from whatever feeling of physical fatigue they’d have felt from that, they soon noticed the group of monsters blocking the way and their friends behind a big tree.

“Oh, looks like XANA did already send a party,” Takeru noticed. “Let’s be sneaky and see if we can end them without Miyu being targeted by them.”

“Agreed.”

“Takeru! Kiku!”

Miyu seemed ecstatic to see them arrive, screaming their names in joy. Only then did she put her hand on her month, remembering XANA’s monsters could hear them. It was easy to make a diversion, but that was it.

“Akira!” Ema yelled to the sky to get their control tower’s attention. “How much enemies are they?”

No response.

“Oh God, that’s bad,” she then spoke to herself. “He must have been knocked away from the main panel.”

“Something happened to my brother?” Aoi panicked immediately thereafter, before clutching Miyu’s hand to keep her calm.

“It may have,” Kiku added as she joined them. “One of us needs to go check.”

They stared at each other, before Ema decided to take the head of things.

“Okay, I’ve got a plan. Aoi, you stay with Miyu to make sure she arrives to the tower in one piece! I’m going with Takeru to face them directly, while Kiku shoots them from the back. I’ve already taken a hit and Takeru has a powerful long-range weapon. Everyone’s good with that?”

“Roger!” Everyone replied in unison as they split in groups.

Ema had in her mind the secret hope of being devirtualized immediately. Takeru had less health point than she did, but she had already taken a hit and was the only one with any knowledge of the Supercomputer outside of Akira who seemed to spend a huge chunk of his nights on it. It was a perfect match for who had to go back to the real world to check on their friends.

She could see Kiku in her white kimono-like robe, braid flowing through the air as she ran and ran, in the corner of her eye running behind Bloks to stab them with her spear in their top eye, jumping on them, braid going up and down, causing their own self-destruction. She was clearly always going for those targeting Takeru, in a nice touch. The boy was himself with her throwing fire at the enemies, either to blind them or critically damage them.

In the corner of her other, Miyu and Aoi ran with their fingers intertwined, the latter with her own weapon out, ready to jump into action if needed. It was a safer solution for them than for Aoi to hold Miyu as she flew over the battlefield just in case she’d get shot in the wings: would that happen, they’d both take considerable fall damage and risk getting devirtualized. The possibility meaning the death of Miyu if it took place, they preferred to stay safe and go a bit slower. Good stuff there.

Because she wasn’t paying all her attention to monsters, Ema quickly found herself to be devirtualized by a second hit in the chest, making her virtual body shatter in pixels before she could resurface in the factory.

Exiting the scanner after getting forcefully devirtualized wasn’t the best feeling in the world, but Ema had no time for dizziness. She ran as fast as possible to the elevator and rushed her hands over the panel to go to the upper floor. They weren’t strangers to XANA using towers to gain access to the real world. In fact, they were even used to Akira getting attacked as to hinder the progress of those on Lyoko. The question was: what had it done to her friend while she was away in the virtual world?

As soon as the door opened, she realized two things: XANA had used a severed electric cable to do its deed, and Akira was unconscious the floor because of it. Her first thought was to rush to his side, to check if he was doing fine. A hand on his wrist, another on his forehead, and her eyes half-focused on the severed cable which now looked as inert as it should be, she let out a sigh of relief when she heard his pulse.

“You scared us again, you idiot,” she muttered under her breath. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to keep an eye on an important mission.”

She gently half-sat Akira against a nearby wall and jumped into the chair facing the screens monitoring everything. Embracing the control tower nature of it all, she picked the headphone and put it on her ear.

“Anyone, you’re receiving me? It’s Ema!”

Everyone or so replied positively.

“Lemme see…” Her eyes deciphered as much information as they possibly could on the monitors. “Takeru, you’re down to 20HP, be careful! One hit and you’re sent back home! Kiku, there should be a Blok behind you! Aoi, Miyu, you’re near the tower, you may be able to fly there…”

She interrupted herself when she saw the cable rise back to life, just as she heard everyone call out for Takeru’s voice. Getting down to her feet, taking a fighting stance, she hoped to be able to fight it back enough to have the time for the boy to reach her room. She knew how to activate the Return to the Past to fix all the damage the buildings around the school must have taken from the excessive sound, if the fact she was able to hear some low-quality rap music from the underground rooms of a factory was any indication, but Takeru didn’t.

Avoiding getting tripped by jumping over the cable’s feet, she was relieved to hear Takeru running towards her. He looked a bit out of breath from running so quickly in so little time, but he took his own fighting stance.

“Ema, get to the computer! I’m sure the others need you there!”

Nodding to him as to confirm his decisions, she jumped back into the chair to see the information: Kiku was close to devritualization with a mere ten HP remaining while Miyu was just about to enter the tower. Trying her hardest to ignore how one-sided Takeru’s fight against the cable was becoming in favour of XANA, she focused on the screens. The boy’s pained scream when his back slammed against the wall didn’t help. Before she could entirely redirect her focus, Kiku had been defeated by a last laser beam.

“Aoi, be careful, Kiku just got eliminated!”

“We know,” the brown-haired girl replied from the other side of the screen. “Miyu is entering the tower now, I’ll try to keep back the last enemies until she can deactivate it!”

“Good, but please make it quick, Akira got stunned and Takeru may be injured from fighting a cable. I’m afraid I’ll be the next, not going to lie there.”

Kiku soon joined the scene, judging from the elevator’s doors opening again and her little steps rushing to Takeru’s side.

“Ki… Kiku…” His weakened voice tried to warn his friend. “Don’t… Come here…”

Without a word, avoiding getting knocked back by the giant cable, she kneeled next to him, her gaze soon fixated on her friend rather than the incoming danger.

“Are you alright, Takeru?!”

“I… I think I’ve broken something against it… But it’s gonna be fine, don’t worry… I’m sure Miyu is about to deactivate the tower…” He gave a timid but warm smile to her.

She gently held him against her, a half-felt one on her lips…

“It’s going to be fine. It’s always going to be fine.”

Judging from Takeru’s weak grip, she knew his hand had been broken in his fight against the machine.

Entering the tower, Miyu made her way as fast as possible to the little panel presented in every tower. As soon as she put her hand on it, the system automatically recognized her, greeting her with the ever same and cold protocol.

MIYU

CODE: LYOKO

The entire tower progressively turned empty as it deactivated. From this little virtual pseudo-cocoon, she could only hope as she looked down everything was fine outside.

Soon enough, the familiar energy wave of the Return to the Past resonated through the virtual world, making her smile as she thought that, once again, everything would be fine and that they had all saved the day.

They were back in the same Maths class, which was still boring, still not interesting. A side effect of using the Return to the Past, obviously. At least, she could safely say that

“Hey, do you remember what happened to you before you got unconscious earlier?” she asked trying to hide her concern.

“I got electricized by a cable, that’s all I can remember. It doesn’t matter much anyway, the Return to the Past cancels every injury we could have sustained.”

“Well, that’s fortunate for Takeru, he broke his hand when fighting the cable.”

Akira suddenly looked very pensive, before having a sort of epiphany flashing on his face.

“That makes me think… I should teach you how to use the Supercomputer, Ema, in case this ever happens again,” he whispered to her.

“I’m not against it. I already know how to use it, as you can see, but you could show me your… special tricks.”

The slight innuendo was enough to make him redden in a moment and look to the side.

“D-don’t phrase it like that…”

She grinned at his embarrassment. He was way too easy to tease, but it was always so much fun.

“Oh, by the way,” she added, “your sister is probably going to get a girlfriend soon, and she won’t even be material unless you come up with your program.”

“E… Excuse me?!”

“Miyu. She’s in love with Miyu and vice-versa. It’s just that you’re never here to see them flirt with each other knowingly or not.”

“Oh. That makes sense, when you precise it that way.”

“I know.”

Now, if she had the same modesty as Aoi, maybe she would have the guts to tell him about her ever-growing crush on him…

#vrains #vrainsrarepairweeks #hireshipping #entrustshipping #zinniashipping #my writing

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mauimakes-blog · 5 years

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“Frankenstein” Book Report

Author: Marry Shelley

Date Submitted: March 16,2019

PLOT

ROBERT’S VOICE:

In the beginning there was a man named Robert Walton, he was an explorer or an adventurer, he always send letters to his sister, named Margaret Saville. Robert was off to an adventure far north of London, hired a ship with steadfast and bold spirited sailors for the voyage and kept sending letters to her sister on what happened that week and so on. Until months later, Robert sent a letter to her sister a letter about something strange happened that week, it said to have encountered a giant man, about 7-8 feet tall, riding a sleigh dragged by wolves and it vanished but later on they saw a man also riding a sleigh with wolves and he said, “before I come aboard, will you please tell me where you were headed? ” it was only when I replied we were on a voyage to the North Pole, and he agreed to come aboard. And after he felt comfortable in his cabin, he woke up days later and we asked him what was he looking for in the breeze of snow outside, and he said, “I was after someone who ran away from me” and we said, “was it a giant man raiding the same sleigh of yours” and said yes. And then he wanted to go outside to continue for the search but then I persuaded him to stay in his cabin where he is comfortable because he can’t withstand the breezing air outside, and I promised for someone to watch for him and tell him if we ever encounter again that mysterious man in a sleigh. Yesterday the stranger said to me, “You must have guessed, Captain Walton, that I have suffered great miss fortune. I had decided before to let the memories of these evil die with me but I have changed my mind. I see that you seek knowledge and wisdom, as I once did, but I hoped that the fulfillment of your ambition will not be snake to sting you, as mine has been. Prepare yourself to hear my strange tale.” And I could still recall as nearly as possible what he told me:

VICTOR’S VOICE:

My name is Victor Frankenstein, I came from Geneva. My father was a high ranking government official and my mother is a daughter from a well-to-do merchant. I was born in Naples and we moved to Italy, in many years I was their only child. When I was five, I and my mother saw a poor cottage. In it lived a peasant with his wife, who is struggling to raise five children, but one of the five children was a different one, she was a thin, blue-eyed girl unlike the others who is dark-eyed and hardy. And the couple said that it was a daughter of a wealthy man who has died and was laid to their arms. And then my mother adopted her from her guardians with my father’s permission, and so Elizabeth Lavenza became a part of the family. The next day I promised her to be as mine-to protect, love, and cherish. We called each other cousins.

Elizabeth and I were brought up together, our differences stitched us together. While Elizabeth was calm and focused, I was passionate and hungry for knowledge. While she is satisfied with thing’s magnificent appearance, I found happiness studying the causes of it. When my brother, Ernest, was born, we moved back to Geneva. At school I had a friend named Henry Clerval. Our interests were different, he is interested with the study of morality and virtue, I was in the study of metaphysics, the study of the physical secrets of the world. When I was thirteen, we went on a vacation to Thenon, and we went to an inn where I discovered a book on the works of Corelius Agrippa, I read it and was fascinated and when I told my father about it he said, “Don’t waste you time with such nonsense” but I didn’t agree. When we went home I bought more books of Agippa, and ran into the books of Paracelus and Albertus Magnus. Their wild ideas thrilled me and got me join to the search of the philosopher’s stone and the elixir of life; and imagined how glorious it would be for a man to discover how to get rid man of disease and allow him to live forever.

My mother died of scarlet fever when I was seventeen and her last words were that she hoped I and Elizabeth would marry. At that time I was studying at the University of Ingolstadt and I promised to my sweet Elizabeth to write her everyday as possible. And there I met my professors, and the first was Mr. Krempe, a natural philosophy professor, I mentioned the names of the three alchemists I studied and he said,” did you really spend your time reading through that nonsense?” he told me to stop reading ancient theories and read new ones. He wrote a list of books to study, that’s why I didn’t like Mr. Krempe that much. And there I met Mr. Waldman, a chemistry professor, which I like the most. He disagreed that the theories that I studied were to be true but then he said,” without those ancient theories there wouldn’t be the chemistry there is today. He said that if I wanted to be a man of science I must not only study about chemistry but also every branch of natural philosophy, like mathematics and then he showed me instruments I needed for it.

On that day on, I studied chemistry and philosophy. And what had me the interest was the human body. From what source did life originate? But first you must study death before life. I spent days and nights trying to see human body parts decay as worms come out, examining bones and rotting corpses in vaults and charnels. I tested my laboratory until I discovered what the cause of life was. After I discovered what power I encountered then I decided I must make a human being, I wanted it to be a giant about 8 foot tall. Then I gathered all the materials, bones and body parts in slaughter houses and took me seasons of months but paid no attention to anything but my gruesome task. I grew very weak, thin, and pale and neglected to write for my family and friends, the only thing in mind was my creation.

As I was asleep I was woken up by something and then I looked around I saw a monster gazing at me while grinning, it had green skin, yellowish and black lips which adds horror contrast to it. And then I rushed to the door slammed it close ran down downstairs and slept until it was morning but still I wouldn’t dare to look around until someone knock my door and opened it, it was my friend Clerval. And I was so happy to see his face and invited me to breakfast but I still have to get something upstairs but the monster was gone. I gone back downstairs and was jumping with joy and screamed “his gone, his gone…” again and again insanely and I fainted and was believed that I am sick from a nervous fever. Then I read Elizabeth’s letter to cheer me up. And months later my sickness was gone and Clerval asked me about the creature and I told everything. Then when I was relived I went back to school now studying language with Clerval as I now hate chemistry. As spring passed I we decided to have one last tour around Ingolstadt to breathe the air to relax my sickness and to appreciate once more the nature around me.

When I returned to college in a Sunday afternoon, there was a letter waiting for me from father saying that my son William and my brother was found dead. After I read the letter I quickly gone to the place where my son and my brother died and then saw a giant man crouching near a tree and quickly realized it was the monster I created. I would have attacked but he escaped as he saw me.

When day came, I was thinking of telling the authorities about the monster but I was thinking, “Who would believe of such madness besides me” so I decided to stay silent. At five in the morning, I went home and entered. It was my brother, Ernest, who I saw first and welcomed me home and said that my father is growing sadder and sadder each and every day but my dearest Elizabeth is the one who needs comfort the most, she blames herself for the murder of our son. And Ernest told me that the murderer was captured and I said, “No, that’s impossible” and he said that it was Justine. And then we entered to court for the crime that isn’t true, and when no one believed that she was innocent she was sentenced to death. And I became in such misery and blame for myself for creating that monster. And I thought of changing place and in the next morning I went horseback riding going to trough mountains and valleys, rivers and creeks, cabins in between trees of forests until I almost forgot the happenings from months before. It was two months before Justine is to be sentenced death. And I thought of climbing mount Blanc and stayed in a cabin on top it.

In the morning , I spent the time riding through valleys and mountains with a new mule for it was too rough to ride on a horse. As I was riding I saw a figure of a man and quickly figured it as the monster and I was right, it was the wretch I made, as I he dashes through the cracks of ice with a stunning superhuman speed. And a he was coming towards me I yelled, “Come at me you giant wretch and I will kill you!” and he said “No I mean no harm” and I said that we will never find peace with each other for you killed my family and and I won’t stop hunting you until one of us dies!” but he said that he is experiencing such misery and wanted to tell me his story and we went to his cabin and he told me his story beside the fire.

THE MONSTER’S VOICE:

The memories of the beginning of my life were vague and confused. I learned how to move, smell, hear, and taste at the same time. So I had the freedom to walk. So I was near a forest from Ingolstadt to drink water from the creek and after that I grabbed a coat of yours to warm me up when it is cold and hid outside through the snow and rain. After many days of searching for a place, I saw a village filled with beautiful houses with delicious food, and that made me hungry. And while I was grabbing fruits from trees the villagers saw me and would run away but some poke me with sticks and throw stones at me. And so I found a house and hid outside of it. There was a child inside learning with his sister, as saw through a hole to peek. And so, I also learned their language from days of learning but they discovered where I hid and tried to kill me but I was not to attack for they blessed me the power to speak. And so I saw a child hiding in a farm and I captured him and he told me that I should be scared for his father was a government official with the name of Victor Frankenstein” and when heard the name Frankenstein I threaten him to kill him and so I did.

FRANKENSTEIN’S VOICE:

As he finished telling me his story he commanded me to make another one like him but a female. But I neglected it but he threatens to kill all my family and love ones, so I ended up doing it. But I failed to because of lacking materials so he went rouge and would kill every person he sees and I followed him and ended up here in the North Pole and saw you.

ROBERT’S VOICE:

Would you believe it Margaret this man had a totally miserable life and this creature he has created is real and is on the hunt on victor. And later on victor was fallen sick and we called on the ship nurse and had a bad news that told that victor is going to die soon. And he called me and whispered to my ear saying that his life is going to end and my enemy’s is not, so would you promise me to kill him you would have my complete honor. And hours later he died and heard the people outside screaming that the monster is here and went inside to see victor but he found him dead and was in full blame of himself and killed himself.

MORAL

When Victor Frankenstein abandons his creation, the monster is forced to figure out for itself what his purpose is in the world and why he was brought into it.

Mary Shelley's Frankenstein holds many themes still applicable to today's society

"When I reflected on his crimes and malice, my hatred and revenge burst all bounds of moderation. I would have made a pilgrimage to the highest peak of the Andes, could I when there have precipitated him to their base"

Revenge...

Themes Such as..

Frankenstein

Nobody, not even the man who created it, could get past the horrific appearance of the Creature and realize what a thoughtful and emotional being it was. Too fearful of the outside image to care about what the monster was on the inside.

From this I learned that no matter how wrong and unfair the situation is, seeking revenge will only lead to negative consequences and regret.

This served as an important reminder to never make opinions of others be based solely on their physical appearance and to show compassion and acceptance to everyone.

Hollywood's Influence

Through this I learned the importance of having communication and relationships with others and how terrible life would be if you were forced to go through it alone.

-The Creature

Nature

Lessons Learned

His time in the mountains provided him with an escape from his troubles and a release from his inner turmoil.

Although Victor went against it with his creation...

But after ignoring the previous description and realizing how truly horrific the creature would've appeared as well as the complexity of its actions and thoughts, I gained a new appreciation for the Monster Mary Shelley created.

Frankenstein

The Danger of Going Against Nature

The novel serves as a warning to not tamper with the balance of nature. Victor's ambitious and unnatural creation of life from death upset that balance and was a sure cause of the chaos that arose from it.

“How dangerous is the acquirement of knowledge and how much happier that man is who believes his native town to be the world, than he who aspires to be greater than his nature will allow.”

Fueled entirely by emotion, Victor and his Creature create a cycle of destruction and devastation only hurting themselves and the situation further. While in the moment it may have seemed like the right move to kill the people Victor loved, by the end of the novel the Creature was ashamed of his actions.

The Dangerous Quest for Knowledge

By Mary Shelley

"I was dependent on none and related to none. The path of my departure was free, and there was none to lament my annihilation. My person was hideous and my stature gigantic. What did this mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my destination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to solve them."

"'All men hate the wretched; how then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me"

Shallowness of Society...

Without a guiding figure to look up to or true human interaction, the creature is forced to ask itself questions about his existence that many people may wonder for themselves.

The lessons taught by the actions of the characters in the novel are lessons that everyone can learn from.

Life and the Meaning of Existence

The Desire for Companionship...

Throughout the story, you begin to understand the creatures desperate pleas for a companion because we all seek to make connections and relationships with others.

"I am alone and miserable: man will not associate with me; but one as deformed and horrible as myself would not deny herself to me. My companion must be of the same species and have the same defects. This being you must create.”

CHARACTERS

* Victor Frankenstein, when he was just a child he was interested in science, his specific study was chemistry and natural philosophy. He was so into science that he would spend more time with it than with family and friends. So when he dug down deeper he discovered the power on how to make life. So he decided to try and make a human being then later on when he finishes to, he realized that he made a monster. He was so furious and he would kill everything he loved, and when one of the family died he was so mad that he tried to kill the monster himself but so he died in the end full of regrets.

* The Monster, he has a very important role in this story, he is the one building-up the climax. He is thought to be rough and furious by most for he has a giant and monstrous body. He was just confused at the beginning of his life but was so unlucky to have such body. He was so mad at his creator, Victor Frankenstein, that he would kill everyone he loved. He blames his creator for him being that way and commanded to make a female mnster like him for companion but after that, Victor died and cried for this was his fault then he killed himself after seeing Victor’s dead body.

* Robert William was the first character to be introduced along with his sister sending each other a letter. And when he went to an adventure he saw victor trying to capture the monster but he let him stay in his ship for comfort. And Robert William was like the story teller of the story by sending a letter to his sister Margaret. And when Robert let Victor stay Victor told his story about his unsuccessful life. And while he was to listen the monster was there but victor already died and would avenge victor but he hadn’t kill the monster but it killed it’s self.

* Henry Clerval was the childhood friend of victor’s until they were adults. Henry would help victor if victor is in need while they were in college when his family is not here. Henry was like a brother to victor, he would risk his life trying to save him. He was with victor when he had down times and would cheer him up. He was a supporting character of this story, supporting the main characters.

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seraphinnas-blog · 6 years

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⟡⌜⇴ ABIGAIL SPENCER ⌠ 36 & she/her ⌡: have you seen SERAPHINA SELWYN ? SHE is an ESTATE MANAGER & WIZARD ART TEACHER who’s apparently also A DEATH EATER. When you see her walking around, be careful, because while she can be DUTIFUL and ARDENT, I heard she can also be pretty SADISTIC and DOGMATIC. ( cami & 18 & she/her & gmt )

↠ boi, get ready for a far too long wild ride as i try to do my best to attempt to write an evil character

THE SELWYNS:

↠ inter lutum duro mundus. i will stay clean in the mud. this sentence will greet you in every gate into a property of the old and noble selwyn family, and you can find it in the marble stones around the houses, in the ancient wooden framing of portraits, in the archives, filled with letters to loved ones with the gentle reminder that the selwyns will rise above any perils. it’s a message of comfort that even seraphina sometimes writes in such tempestuous times to her relatives.

↠ the selwyns are the symbol of old money. and i do mean old. their records, with some alterations to the spelling of the family name, go back centuries, but some books claim them to be amongst those taught personally by hogwarts’ founders. the selwyns are very meticulous about history, especially THEIR history, what they can hide in it, what they can boast about, and how to keep careful records of everything. their archives are precious for wizard historians, and can often be found as references in books.

↠ the selwyns are also, or even, above all, symbols of tradition. while they’ve always kept building newer better houses, they’ve protected their oldest estates, and use some of them as museums of wizard history, just like we’d visit old castles and palaces. they turn good profit from all their estates, in which many find work, especially but not limited to house elves, and all sorts of countryside things you can imagine create money? they do it. farming, honey, wood, cattle, wine, cheese, horse and the raising of other more magical animals. the selwyns have quite the empire in the united kingdom and even some spots abroad.

↠ one specific tradition that has kept the family very relevant has always been the annual hunting celebration. started in the 1740s, it has evolved and changed but kept some traditional aspects: only purebloods are invited; it happens at the selwyn country house in north yorkshire (the first major estate of the family to survive till today); it’s a must-go october event, pouring rain or not, with large feasts set outside and inside; children run around with pretend wands and sticks, playing hunter; those old enough ( read: about seven or so and allowed by the parents ) leave into the woods with bloodhounds and return with all sorts of death. deer; gnomes; bore; doxys; nifflers; ducks; red caps; even misbehaved house elves; killed, skinned, and (most of them anyway) cooked in the same event.

↠ the selwyns are just so deeply embedded in wizard traditions and wizard history, even with very very very few of them ever having ministry related jobs. in fact, seraphina can only trace a few more distant cousins working at the ministry in the last 50 years, and there’s only ever been one selwyn minister in all british history. that is because their estates, their museums, the art pieces they collect in them and all the products of their country side holdings already provide all the power and money they could need. their parties, be it for hunting or not, are monumental events. everything they hold is a powerful part of the tourism industry in magical britain and everything they produce fills half the pantries of purebloods in the nation. the selwyns are simply a fundamental part of wizarding britain.

CHILDHOOD

↠ it was this simple: alma and octavio selwyn couldn’t have any biological children. after years of trying, it became obvious that there was some sort of problem. for a few generations, the once rather fruitful selwyns were having smaller and smaller batches of children, and many less important branches of the family were dying out - alma always blamed it on the classical pureblood inbreeding from both families.

↠ this is the part where i make shit up about wizard society and we run with it. adoption is very real in pureblood society, some cases fully hidden, others an open thing, but no one really properly talks about it. especially not when it comes to such an important and well respected family. it wouldn’t be the first time the selwyns or other wizards would have adopted a baby. it’s just tabu because in most cases, it’s not possible to fully confirm if the child is, in fact, a pureblood. the selwyns were assured by the orphanage for magical children in vancouver that the little girl, less than three years old, was a pureblood. their meticulous research lead to the same vague conclusion, but it was pointless, really. after all, the couple was in love with her big brown eyes from the moment they saw her in a photograph. “i just knew you were my daughter,” explained her mother once, in the rare occasion that the whole ordeal was mentioned. one change of name ( hannah, she’s been told, but it’s forbidden now ) and all of a sudden she was the long awaited HEIR to the fast aging couple. they were head over heels with the little girl and soon, despite the hints of controversy, so was most of pureblood society.

↠ there are questions in her mind that she’s yet to have the courage to ask. especially those concerning the legitimacy of her blood status. she’s the heiress of the selwyn throne, there is no space for doubts and self reflection in that. seraphina was always told to not show weakness, for others could taste it in the air and come in with wands raised. what could be weaker than doubting yourself?

↠ despite the occasional transgressions ( she remembers the way her mother slapped a cousin who dared to question her princess’ very pure blood, how the relatives from zurich were not allowed to visit anymore ) seraphina grew up rather sheltered and happy. in a family that highly values education and tradition, she was tutored by many, including some of her father’s old tutors, learning many languages, types of art, magical theory and, above all, the legacy of the selwyns and how to manage it in the future. she also learned all the fine skills of a high ranking lady, being sent for short periods of time to those small wizard finishing schools abroad - that all changed when her hogwarts letter came.

↠ suddenly, she wasn’t sharing her environment with other rich, powerful and mostly pure blooded little heirs. but she would stay clean in the mud. sorted into ravenclaw, it was an easy fit ( curious, competitive, a hub of knowledge, in everything for herself no matter how many backs she must stab ) but even her generation was too liberal. too many mudbloods complaining about being beaten by other students. too many blood traitors around her. seraphina was never the overly violent type ( despite having throw some jinxes at some people occasionally, and some other minor actions ), but her real accomplishments were the ↠ she started many groups and clubs while at hogwarts, in defense of a return to tradition, to the good old society in which muggle borns were ostracised, werewolves done away with eugenics, all the things that even in her time could be considered somewhat radical. and she got some following. the headmaster kept shutting them down, calling the groups hateful, and she’d calmly reply that they were simply trying to spread out some important philosophies. that didn’t stop complaints from flooding in, especially from concerned parents.

↠ seraphina, or sera for the close ones, didn’t need high grades. she had been groomed to run the many family businesses, starting with small sections when she was still at hogwarts and in the future to inherit it all, but she CRAVED learning, especially the sort of learning that could feed her views. she was very interested in history of magic and magical theory, and after some time caring for the family business, she returned to hogwarts. not quite full term ( damn binns taking up the position of teacher of history of magic ) but as the professor for one extracurricular - art. or rather, wizard art.

THE GREAT WIZARD WAR

↠ in the same year seraphina graduated from hogwarts, she was approached by voldemort. her views were so interesting and strong, and her family lineage so powerful that voldemort took it upon branding her with the dark mark and keeping her in his close circle almost immediately. her techniques are curiously vicious, and she truly approaches missions like fox hunting, loves letting some targets lose in forests and running after them. brings in dogs and other animals to scare them off. is very methodical and very cruel without a care - after all, they are an infestation. they are stealing places that belong to the truly worthy of magic, the purebloods such as her. they are ruining what’s meant to be a sacred and secret gift and destroying the great society wizards once were. how can she not be cruel to such sub-human kinds?

↠ that’s why she does what she does. she believes, with her whole heart, that she’s restoring the world by ridding it of all those impurities. and she’s so hellbent in her beliefs, so dogmatic.

↠ the selwyns have been associated with dark wizards before, but rarely ones this important, as they always feared they’d try to overrule them, overthrow the mighty family. their houses, however, were always safe harbours for dark wizards and those running from aurors - it is rumoured that grindelwald hid with the selwyns for quite some time as he organised his army. but seraphina always wanted to do something more, to leave her particular mark in the long family trees, especially given the little voice in her head that told her she did not belong there.

↠ not being a selwyn makes her want to be the most remarkable selwyn that has ever been.

↠ while she definitely had her hands full with high society living, being one of the managers of her family empire. and a devoted death eater, seraphina craved more. as such, at the age of 22, she earned the position of wizard art professor.

↠ she’s been teaching ever since ( despite the suspicions everyone, including staff, has about her off duty activities ), taking some time off and returning again, never fully committed as her responsibilities to the selwyn name are far more relevant. her knowledge of wizard art history, given how many pieces her family owns, secured the position for her, and she does genuinely enjoy having something to call her own, not just a family thing. it’s HER classroom. she also investigates the blood status of each of her students and after strings of terrible marks and rudeness to muggleborns, tells them she believes they’d find a better fit at the muggle art classes. her agenda is VERY much pushed in the classroom.

↠ while she does have a passion and skill with art, let’s be real. she mostly just teaches wizard art history and interpretation. field trips to one of the selwyn owned museums? every term. field trips to unseen works of art stored in off-public sites at a selwyn property? every term.

↠ her love for history is a bit twisted because while she does adore archives and all that stuff, she mostly just picks and chooses what goes along with her rhetoric. history revisionist? very much. go buy ‘the witch hunt for grindelwald’, ‘squibs and the charges of witchcraft against their own families - the horror of the spanish inquisition (1560-1710)’ and ‘tales from the resistance: interviews to death eaters active in the 1970s’. more books to come, definitely. all just as controversial.

↠ her second biggest passion, after history, is hunting. she was brought on the annual hunts ever since she was just a little kid and she grew a love for the rush of searching for something she wanted and getting it, even with blood on her gloves.

↠ the war has been dragging on, with some low points for the death eaters but more, especially lately, for their enemies. she’s been an unshakable supporter of the cause ever since the second she joined, having spilled much blood for it, her own and others’. does part of her wish it could finally end? ye. she wants to get on with her life properly without having to rush to missions all the time. but it can’t end until their goals are fulfilled and merlin, they’re still so far from it. so, dutiful as she is, seraphina doesn’t whisper a word, but she’s tired. they all are. if only she could lower her guard once more, just for one day, for one peaceful moment in which the world is right and all she and her partners have suffered and even died for can be real.

↠ she just wants some goddamned peace and quiet but also, she’d miss human hunting. because remember, awful person.

↠ has killed muggles who have somehow wandered into or near selwyn grounds despite all the spells around it. has thrown them to the dogs.

↠ currently mostly lives in one of the smallest estates, a country house in wales, just because it was always her favourite. her parents, both still alive, live in other estates, always moving around, and the three ( along with a few cousins, especially in the abroad businesses ) work together a lot but it’s very obvious that sera is very much in charge of most things. her parents are old, tired, and more than ready to let their very well prepared jewel do as she pleases.

↠ can often be found reading or writing. especially letters. sends the LONGEST letters with a meticulous elegant handwriting. the selwyn family seal is always in them as is the family motto.

↠ still tries to start shit with hate groups !! still founds them, supports them, is very open about her beliefs and about her support of the death eaters ( even if she never tells anyone she’s one ). sends letters to the ministry to ask for social measures considered by many archaic and purist. writes op-eds. also, buy her books !! they’re full of ideology, history revisionism and currently on sale in your local bookstore.

↠ that’s the thing, you can’t quiet seraphina. her name means fiery and for good reason - she’s calm and collected and beyond well educated, but if she explodes, her rage is a wildfire. and when she feels something, she feels is so damn much. and can’t really cope with most of those feelings so she just hides away where there’s some pretty art or where she can hold an animal’s corpse.

↠ what is emotional stability? what is healthy coping? what is feeling anything but the very extreme?

↠ always wears robes. expensive, custom made, gold thread and that sort of shit in it, but always wizard robes, even if they’re just over a beautiful outfit. looks very traditional and very regal at all times.

↠ also wears gloves very often. good for not staining her hands, and also because has a bit of a thing with germes.

↠ the mental image of her grinning has me so confused because she is DEEPLY passionate about things and people and life, but she can as easily be grinning while looking at a 16th century painting, at a lover, or at the tortured pleading nearly-dead body of a muggle.

↠ she’s a terrible person. fight her.

character parallells: ramsay bolton ( game of thrones ), serena waterford ( handmaid’s tale ), the argents ( teen wolf ), katherine pierce ( the vampire diaries ), jessica huang ( fresh off the boat ), lucy preston ( timeless ), jessica pearson ( suits), arya stark ( game of thrones ), veronica lodge ( riverdale ), cristina yang ( grey’s anatomy ), idk pals i’m bad at this bit

pinterest board ; timeline ; stats

#tragicum:intro #blood tw #death tw #animal cruelty tw #!!!#it's wayu too damn long

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vacationcalendar · 3 years

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8/13/21

Today’s creative project, an private letter (it could have been an open letter, but who the hell is reading this besides myself and maybe the person receiving it) to Voyboy. He’s been in a rough place mentally/emotionally. He’s had some deaths in his family which is never easy, and his attempt to de-platform a twitch streamer with a known history of sexual abuse has earned him undue (and as is sadly routine, SEVERE) ire from fans of said streamer.

It’s so weird, there’s obviously people who are like, “I’m not getting involved. I don’t care enough to inform myself well enough to have an opinion.” And those people are also split into camps that either approve or disapprove of “rocking the boat” as it were. Some people think this level of calling-out is too incendiary for the offense. Some people find the subject uncomfortable and wish it would go away, with the unfortunate default to that view being an acquiescence of justice for the accused.

And some people are also hung up on the justice part in particular. This entire affair is being conducted in the infamous “Court of Public Opinion.” A forum that has been dragged out MUCH more frequently in this modern age than in history. That fact alone upsets people. Hell, it’s bothered me in the past. I see the Court of Public Opinion make a ruling, and I think, “I didn’t elect this Judge, I did not approve this jury, there is no precedent here!”

It does feel like things are moving fast. They are. Dan Harmon said in an interview earlier this month, “Progress isn’t a scalpel, it’s an avalanche.” And he welcomed it. We should be welcoming progress. Even if it’s messy. Some might say “especially if it’s messy!” I don’t know who is saying that, but I feel in my gut someone on twitter would say that and get 80.3k likes. I know my Twitter.

I digress. Some people are of the view that they can’t be the judge. Leave it up to the real judges and let me just do whatever it was that I was going to do, please. So when Voyboy does all this work to put a spotlight on this problem, people see him handing them a pitchfork and come help him kill The Beast. And some people balk at that. Some people shy away, and just stay inside (this is mostly me, I’ll admit. The inside people go, “I didn’t watch that guy anyway, this is all fine with me! Now please leave me alone”). And some say, “Hey man, I’m opposed to violence, and by the way, the Beast is a really chill guy if you ever got to know him. In fact, people like you who are so quick to hand out pitchforks to make yourself look like some noble saint are actually pieces of shit!” And then a bunch of that guy’s friend go “Yeah, he is a piece of shit!” because that’s how bullying works. And then the bullies spend all day trapped in their miserable bodies, stuck in their miserable lives. And they go on Twitch and watch their friend stream to them, and their friend makes them feel wanted for once in their shit existence. And then later they’re on twitter and see Voyboy say something about how your friend’s an abusive monster and needs to see justice, and you KNOW that it’s all bullshit, and Voyboy just trying to get points with his girlfriend or something, he doesn’t care at all. What an asshole. Fuck him. Fuck this loser. I should reply to him, since it’s the easiest thing in the world for anyone to do. And generally people don’t follow people they hate like this, so that would limit this extremely toxic interaction, but Voyboy is followed by all the LoL streamers, so people that follow league generally hear from all the content creator’s in the community. And maybe they’re streamer friend mentioned that Voyboy was a fake ass cuck or whatever on stream and told his followers to go check out the shit he was spewing.

So Voyboy says grooming is unacceptable and disgusting, sexting teens is deplorable. And we as a modern community don’t need to hear him beat a rap sheet like that in court to act, because we as a community have the power to shape it how we see fit. And under that tweet is 100 replies saying that he’s a piece of shit and should die.

And then the uninformed masses see that and go, “why is Voyboy a piece of shit?? What am I missing?” And then they see Voyboy tweet something like “this is really hard, these guys are out to get me but I won’t back down.” And if you’re like me you think, “Oh I’ve never supported this kind of drama in my life. This is boring at best and uncomfortable at worst. Let’s all stop (aka bail)!” And then Voyboy goes “I won’t!” And then everyone level-headed and sane goes “boo, I’m bored, knock this off!” And everyone that is now LIVING for this bullying. I mean, what a payout. You bully this dude every day and he feeds you attention every time? This rules! So the detractors get WORSE and the supporters settle down. And Voyboy has now learned the harsh truth of social justice. It just beats you down. Everyone’s in this game for themselves; the moment you set aside your own interest to help someone else out, you are instantly and forever outnumbered. And the whole time you’re just like, “what the fuck is so hard about this? I am proposing an objectively good idea that would make everyone happier! I only even started trying to say something because I knew I was right! This is like getting fired for hitting a home run!”

I’m learning, and I should say digesting maybe, more about power this year than I have in a long time. It’s the answer to a lot of equations that don’t add up under my current philosophies. Like if everything I think is true, then was does X Y and Z still happen? Why do I feel like ____? The answer is something to do with power. And I’m starting to figure out what that is. Ha, I think part of me is a little ashamed it’s taking this long, I guess. Like, I’M learning it, but it’s been learnt. I’m catching up. But that’s ok. That’s literally all I’m doing. Catching up. Keeping up. I’m not even trying to do something once I’m caught up. I just don’t think there’s any other place to be. Well, I mean, I would truly hate to write something that got read that was just plain not-caught-up. Something that would make a reader go, “hey, doesn’t he know better?” I SHOULD. That’s literally the goal.

Anyways, I’ve lost my train of thought, and need a bathroom break. Here’s the letter I sent to Voyboy, to try and help him through all this. Talk to you tomorrow love ;) : Hey Voy I hope you are doing better, and I hope you get a chance to read this. I started League of Legends back in Season 1 when I was in college. I remember the first time I heard of you, you were one the few people ahead of HotshotGG in the rankings, and I remember thinking, "what the hell, how did this kid get so lucky?!" lol. Then I got to see you play with RS, and mostly thought you were lucky again to be getting carried by Scarra 🤣 I'm sorry! By the time you joined CLG I finally caught wise. You became one of my all-time favorite players on the scene. Your Olaf looked like a cheat code, I swear to god. I love League of Legends so much, and back in college I spent almost every waking minute thinking about it. It was one of my great passions. And at that time I was struggling to find anything else I was truly passionate about. I got depressed in college, and by that point I had realized my goal of being an engineer wasn't something I actually cared about. So I dropped out. I was in a truly dark place. I felt like life had left me behind and that I was worthless. I still had League, but League couldn't give me what I needed. I have this distinct memory from one of my last games in Season 4 where some Ranked Soloqueue bs was making my blood boil out of my body. I literally had to stand up and walk around outside after the game. I was pissed, but I knew the real reason was because I just wasn't good enough. That was the moment I realized I was never going to get to walk the path of Voyboy or Doublelift, I was not going to be one of the great ones that League would pick up and give them an opportunity to do something great. I would need to find something of my own.

After that League stopped being as fun for me. I knew I had to do something else with my life and League was only holding me back. All my friends I knew through League started to feel less like my friends. So I quit. After almost 4 years nonstop. And the years after that only looked worse. I was still depressed, still struggling desperately to find my way, and now the thing that brought me the most joy in the world was long gone from my life.

Five years went by and over that time I moved, got a real job, and somehow became a real adult. Life was still hard work, but I was now ready for it. I bought myself a real gaming computer after using crummy laptops my entire life. And once I realized I could finally see LoL at something other than the lowest graphics setting, I decided to download it again. I don't need to tell you that coming back 5 years away made League feel like a completely new game. I might as well have been playing Dota for all I knew. And I felt terrible. I felt like the person that used to play this game was dead; I had no memory left in my fingers. "Well, it was worth a shot," I said.

And then I found your videos on youtube. "Hey I know him!" After just two games, it all came rushing back to me. Your games, your stream reignited my love for League of Legends. And now I'm healthier. Now I can play for a bit and return to a life I that I care equally about. I learned how to love League AND love myself; and the entire time, you were there. The Kid, with his million-watt smile, raising the bar.

I can't say I see the exact same circumstances with what you've been going through lately. I just know what that cloud can feel like. And maybe it's similar, feeling like League and the other parts of your life are at odds with each other right now. And the further away the game gets, the more you see the cracks appear. Hateful kids and useless trolls come to this game not for the experience, but to talk crap and feed their ego. It's so sad that our society still needs to work so hard to treat sexual abuse with the weight that it deserves. But I think because of that, it only highlights that you're doing work that's worth doing.

I don't know what you're planning on doing next, but no matter what it is, I'll support you. I don't know what it's worth, but you're genuinely one of my favorite people. You're worthy of love, you're worthy of happiness. You've worked hard, you've put your heart into making League of Legends a community something to be proud of. I've seen it time and time again. And it won't be for nothing, I swear.

Cya nerd, be well. Thanks

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idiotgangleader · 6 years

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Novice (Altair x Reader Part 1)

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed

Pairing: Altair/Reader

Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Violence/Torture/Blood

Word Count: 1,711

Synopsis: Reader is a new recruit to the Brotherhood and is assigned Altair as a mentor.

The ache in your lungs and the blood in your nose caused your breaths to come out in raspy spurts. Bright lights shined in your eyes as you hung limply with nothing but your chained wrists and the cold stone wall at your back holding you up. The awkward position made your already labored breathing difficult and put even more pressure on your aching ribs. You had lost hope, no one would find you now. And even if they did, you would long be dead. Not that you deserved it. You had defied a direct order from a superior and got yourself captured. Any attempt at a rescue would mean endangering the Brotherhood. The most you could hope for was that your Templar captives were done with their torture and beatings and had left you for dead. But even if they did not, the next session would surely do you in. No, it would not be much longer now. Your thoughts wandered back to everything that had lead up to your demise. And everything that would never be as of now... Just a few months ago you were inducted into the order as a novice assassin following a few weeks on the streets fleeing an arranged marriage to someone who was almost three times your age. It wasn't until later that you discovered that he was a Templar associate and that your marriage to him sealed a contract regarding your family's land that would provide them with a substantial source of income. He was a cruel man, and you originally intended on taking your own life. But after one of his temper flaring nights of alcohol and bruises, as soon as he fell asleep you decided the proper way to end your marriage was by a letter opener to his neck. You had been on the run ever since. After a week or so of starving, you began hearing rumors about an organization that trained people to master the art of killing. Thinking that you might very well die a beggar on these streets if you carried on the way you were, you figured this organization may be your only chance at survival. You had stumbled upon the steps of Masyaf with a starving belly and ragged robes and were immediately brought before Al Mualim. At first he was not impressed with your emaciated and ragged appearance. It wasn't until you threw your dead husband's ring at his feet that he reluctantly agreed to take you. And was very he glad he did. After a few days of recovering, you were sent to train with the other novices. That's when your talent started to shine. After a few weeks, none of the other rookies could beat you in the fighting pit. And your skill at scaling buildings caught the attention of even the higher ups. It wasn't long before you were called once again before Al Mualim. Only this time, you were to be assigned a mentor. "(Y/N), your quick progress is commendable. But you still have yet to prove your knowledge and allegiance to not only the Brotherhood, but to the Creed as well. That is why from now on you will study under Altair. He himself can tell you personally the importance of the Creed and how it needs to be followed to the absolute. Isn't that right, Altair?" spoke the Master. You could have sworn you heard the younger assassin let out a growl at these words but you blew it off as just being your imagination. Yet you couldn't help but wonder if there was a story behind those words. In any case, you wouldn’t dare ask. You couldn’t name a specific reason why, but this stoic assassin absolutely terrified you. This said man, looked at you and sighed. Obviously not pleased as to having been assigned an apprentice. "As you see fit," was all he said. Ever since then you were trained by the quiet assassin. You would awake in the early hours of the morning and scale the buildings of Masyaf. You would memorize page after page of books on philosophy and the history of the Brotherhood. You would practice your swordsmanship for hours on end. Yet, nothing you ever did seemed good enough for him. Whenever you made progress, he would just push you harder and point out the smallest of things you did wrong. It came to the point where you were convinced that your presence repulsed him. In a way,you could not bring yourself to blame him. If you were in his place, you were sure you would not be that thrilled about having to babysit a novice. Still, you trained harder and harder. And you made it your goal to prove yourself to the shrewd man. That's when you were overjoyed when the master told you that you would be joining Altair on a mission to Acre. This was your chance! You could finally prove to him that you weren't just some useless novice. And then maybe just maybe, he would actually look at you with respect and not repulsion. You arrived in Acre a few days ago and met with the Rafiq, Hamid. And it was during your time in Acre that you and Altair learned about a hospital run by the Templars that was being used for nefarious purposes. But by the orders of the Rafiq, you were ordered to investigate further before you pursued your target. Altair told you that you and him would continue the investigation in the morning and ordered you to rest. So you did, eager to continue the mission in the morning. However, when you woke that morning in the bureau, your mentor was nowhere to be found. You got up and searched the Bureau, in complete disbelief that he would leave without you. Temper running high you went to Hamid’s desk and asked if he had seen the moody assassin. “He left a few hours ago to follow a lead on a civilian that may have been recently captured by the Templars. He left specific instructions for you.” He answered plainly. “And they are?” you asked, feeling your heart race with anticipation. “You are to remain here at the Bureau until further notice.” He answered without looking at you. You felt your heart sink. “Are you kidding me?!” I yelled. He looked at me with a hint of disapproval. “Are you questioning the orders of your superior, novice?” he asked. Immediately I swallowed my anger and looked to the hard floor. Outbursts like that were going to get me nowhere. “No brother, I apologize.” I said quietly. “Good. Now, if we are done discussing this, there are clothes in the back room that could use a good rinse of water.” He said. You wanted to say something back to him but you kept your restraint. If word got back to Al Mualim that you were showing disobedience on your first mission. Things would surely not end well for you. “Yes, Rafiq.” You said as you walked back to the room. It wasn’t fair! This was your very first mission; your first chance to prove yourself. And you were being left behind like some child. He hated you; that had to be it. He didn’t think you could handle the assassin life. That’s why he always treated you like dirt. You were nothing more than a burden to him. Something he had to deal with because the Master ordered it and nothing more. As you sulked your gaze slowly drifted to the sky through the open roof. Then it hit you. Nothing is true…Everything is permitted… Maybe this was it. This was your test. In order to complete the mission, you had to defy an order. And you weren’t really defying an order. You were keeping to the Creed. The hospital wasn’t that far away. You could slip away, scope out the perimeter for any weak spots and return to the Bureau before anyone even noticed. You wouldn’t go so far as to pursue the target. No, master had ordered you are not to pursue until we had Hamid’s permission. You would just investigate and then return to the Bureau and nothing else. Or so you thought... Your little “investigation” is what got you into this mess. You were not expecting one of the guards to spot you hidden in the crowd outside the courtyard. Immediately the alarm was sounded and reinforcements were called. You were so very badly outnumbered, yet you still managed to kill several of them before being knocked to the ground. Right before one of the guards was about to finish you off, your mission’s target. The evil templar doctor of the hospital gave the order to bring you inside. And here you were. They beat you for hours. Place hot iron on your skin, and force fed you strange concoctions that made every inch of your skin shriek in agony. They wanted you to tell them about the Brotherhood; where the Bureau was, and the locations of other bureaus in the region. You fought with every ounce of will you had, to not spill their secrets. And by the will of God you had so far succeeded. But now your body was paying the price, the price for your foolish actions. You just hoped that Altair could finish the mission regardless of your recklessness. Just then, you heard the sound of fighting. You blew it off as the sound of another patient trying to escape, so you kept your eyes closed. Not having any strength left to keep them open. Then you heard more guards being called and the sounds got louder. But you still did not open your eyes. If one of the guards saw you were still alive, the beatings would start all over again. Minutes passed. And suddenly everything went silent. Not even the sounds of the patients screams reached your ears. And you thought you must be dead, the final sleep consuming you. But then you heard footsteps, gradually getting louder until it sounded as if they were right in front of you. You didn’t dare move, until you felt the gentle touch of a leather clad hand on your cheek. “(Y/N)…(Y/N), open your eyes...”

AN: So this is a fic that I wrote two years ago that I just stumbled upon yesterday. I edited it some so that it wasn’t as horrible as it originally was but let me know what you guys think. I currently have another chapter of this already written out so once I edit that it will be posted as well.

#fanfiction #tw violence #tw torture #tw blood mention #altair x reader #assassin's creed #may turn smutty later #who am i kidding i know it will

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breakingmllc · 3 years

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God Knew My Heart Needed Love So He Sent Me My Boston Vintage T-Shirt

Roma genoa domenica 28 maggio 2017 l ultima volta in cui potrò indossare la maglia della roma è impossibile esprimere in poche parole tutto quello che questi colori hanno rappresentato rappresentano e rappresenteranno per me sempre sento solo che il mio amore per il calcio non passa è una passione la mia passione è talmente profonda che non posso pensare di smettere di alimentarla mai da lunedì sono pronto a God Knew My Heart Needed Love So He Sent Me My Boston Vintage T-Shirt ripartire sono pronto per una nuova sfida. Want my jordan iv’s donate over at stockx before the end of the weekend for a chance to win them all proceeds go to hurricane relief donate now stockx com hurricane. Let s debate what urban city in america has produced real legends in all genres sports music and movies los angeles atl nyc chicago detroit let s debate

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Premium Trending This Summer Season will Presents Who Love:

Hello miss camila you do not know me obviously but not surprising since I am small time compared to the position you have attained in life and society it is not likely that we would ever meet not probable that you will even respond to this all I have is aspirations and my hope that you see something enough in me to know that I am worth your time I will do my best to show you in short manner that this is the truth I cannot promise anything but what I believe and anything else is an assumption on what I would hope you know or think which is unknown to me so it is something found to be less desirable I was getting a God Knew My Heart Needed Love So He Sent Me My Boston Vintage T-Shirt tattoo yesterday finished it today actually the reason this is mentionable is because the guys in there were talking about ladies after this very attractive and happy little asian lady got a tattoo she quickly became the talk of the place even the ladies that were there were happy to help this lady because of how she carried herself and the grace she posed so as they were talking about their interests and different girls they had been with or what they saw as being attractive or how it was so cool that such a pretty lady wanted a tattoo and more things it started coming to a point where the conversation shifted to a more masculine intent and the guys were talking about things better left un repeated here it was mentioned that someone wanted something certain they desired it and in the mix they were breaking down how they sought after something and it made me think of you because they were all talking about things like how they could not have this or needed that or other more unmentionable things so I showed one of them a picture of you because from everything I have seen of you in my time spent watching videos with you being what I think is yourself at your best I realized that I needed to meet people who were intelligent and who knew how to value things I cannot accurately say that I know something about you from the short views I have had into who and what you are but I have a slightly educated guess now about some of these things and what I can see in you and your being is something that is beyond the regular person exceptional I understand that it is not likely I will get a response or that I might even be noticed I am only reaching out to see what might happen because when I showed your picture to that guy we talked a little about how gorgeous you are and then he mentioned that I should write you a letter I thought about it a bit and decided that the only way to know if I was worth your time and notice was to make an attempt so I am starting here this is the best I can do for this moment I will try this a few times and if nothing happens I will look towards writing you a letter which will look kind of funny because my handwriting sucks go figure I write well but my presentation is terrible looks like a gradeschooler wrote it no joke I had the idea of sending it to your record label if I could find it and understand also that it is not likely to reach you but it is still possible there is a lot to share with you and I can promise that from my perspective I know that you will not ever be disappointed in taking the time to respond to me if you ever come across this or anything else and actually read it my intention is to make an impact to help fix the balance that has been off kilter for a long time since the dawn of this species as far as mainstream history will teach you I am an equal rights producer of philosophy and perspective a revolutionary and a rainbow warrior you can look up the rainbow warrior if you are interested and revolutionary is a title I choose because I like it and my efforts span beyond the physical realm this is a unified effort and I believe that a large part of it is introducing exception to the feminine bringing ladies to their place of righteous entitlement this species has been sick for a long time look at the world of the human race mankind has been hurting for long enough to leave us in a position of self that is in poor nature women around the world have been hurting for a long time and it has not ceased only grown in confusion and need this is where I believe that our sisters need a way to understand what is happening to them this is where consciousness comes into play which I will describe later if there is a chance and you decide that I am interesting enough or worthy of your awesome attention my revolution is made to fit this world outside of the species we are a part of and beyond the third dimension as well call it the spirit realm or the energetic planes higher vibrating dimensions synchronicity is a revealed part of my life now and it is regular I would like to show as many as are willing and able what this means and how to pay attention to it exactly there is so much love and compassion that this world needs the life upon this planet and all of those who exist beyond it are crying for the salvation of this species since we exist by my belief and experience in multiple planes of existence under the energies of creation itself I see a sickness that has spread into all of the rest of reality bringing the feminine back to where you rightfully belong as creators of life worthy of every respect is what you deserve and more as an individual and as a collective this is where you shine the most because of your successes and your ability to reach the mass of ladies who are more likely hurting and not able to know why my truth is not everyone’s truth it is my perspective and what my experiences have taught me and that is the best I can hope for if you parallel these expressions then we are kindred in this but I have no hopes of ever brainwashing you or converting you to something you do not consciously choose for yourself I bring my everything to show you consciousness my form of it but no less I will literally give everything I can and am able to for you to know that I am legitimate within myself and genuine in every word I have had rough times as have many but I have overcome them and reached to the stars beyond them even but that is a talk for later times I want to show you a life that shines in a way to set trends people never knew existed and those same trends will be the undoing of abuse in this world as they take hold and come to fruition this may not be as doable in my life time and I know this but I am doing what I can to show the world that our future deserves better than what we have now and with that that they have every entitlement also called a right to a future that is less in servitude and more in harmony and love this centers on you as a lady assuming the position you have earned through all of time as a creator of life you are called upon now and always as what will save this world and all life beyond it from the torments of a masculine world I will show you exactly what I mean through time as you venture with me I will do my best to reveal to you exactly what I see in other higher frequency realms of reality and how that ties into your beauty as one who creates life with your very essence along with your ability to grow and nurture a spirit and consciousness inside of you simply because you are able to because it is a gift from creation itself because you are the goddess that the bible ignores not to be worshipped but to be revered to be honored and to be appreciated along with being heard and many other things it is your duty to yourself to know everything you are not my place to tell you anything unless you wish to hear it but that does not stop me from giving you what I can to provide a true first impression I am here to bring you the truth as best as I am able to you decide if it is the truth for you or not I have no intention of forcing anything on anyone but there is so much adverse control in this life that I know I must make a statement to combat the airwaves of dissonance even if I am not looking for conflict this species is going down hard right now and we are taking all life with us upon the planet at least but it can be a lot worse if we survive in this state I am asking for your time and enough trust to give me the chance to connect with you to share myself with you and for me to enjoy your blatant spirit of intelligence and beauty in this life along with what you offer in the spirit realm I understand if you think I am crazy or something I get it if you judge me poorly this information is not for everyone and to be honest I am pretty far past the curve that everyone is beginning to round not to sound full of myself this is what my experience has taught me I am ready to be proven wrong your time and energy is what I seek after and if that turns into something that can help us prosper in so many ways then we will know there is no way I would ever abuse your trust or look to advertise your connectivity with myself not unless you were looking to do that yourself if you chance it and connect with me truly I can truly say within myself that you will never be let down maybe a little sometimes but that is what expression and understanding is for compassion and empathy and love for life along with forgiveness and intent I will introduce what I believe is consciousness to you and anyone who will listen and I seriously adore when people ask questions but so much more love it when you provide your own input both are essential I am an awesome talker but I am an exceptional listener as well if you ask me multiple questions I will answer each one to the best of my ability and will always give you the most honest answer I can provide no matter what it is about anything always my name has a bit of bad energy attached to it but when you understand my story better you will know that love does crazy things to people and I am a true lover I wish to bring light to the darkness love to the world and truth to the children to all forms of life give me the chance and this is what will happen you will never meet another like me we are all unique but this is something different which will be known throughout time it is my sincere hope that this reaches you at the least so that you can know your life and those of everyone around you is loved and someone is looking out to help improve the quality of existence even if people are not aware that there is pain in all the ways you are needed I am as well but that may or may not be in your presence of any sort love that is my life my name is pearce lane leckenby I want to show you the kingdom of zion from my heart the surviving bastion of hope in times when people have lost faith in themselves and eachother I bring you true revolution evolution and a break from absolution it must be time to shut up now not sure if you will enjoy this or not but this is a portion of my all there is so much more I could write books on this if I had it in me to do so and I am not sure what it would take to do that but it is possible this is the best way I express myself talking to people peace be upon you harmony be within you and love be all of you I am what I am that I am not a character from a book but a life with a story my hope is that you find it worth your time thank you for reading and sticking through with this if you make it this far if anyone else reading this decides that I might be worth your time you can always add me or if you want to be around me to talk and learn you can always join my group it needs help so I must get back to it after a long time away this is my group I will talk to you about pretty much anything always send me a message anything your time in not ill spent this is my revolution this is my life this is the way and I will show you the truth forever and always. What s my 2019 anthem level up and earn up sponsored check out the first of many ways I plan to crush goals with chase alwaysearning. Honored to have fernando belasteguin the best padel tennis player in the world by my side on my zenter court at padel zenter See Other related products: Wine In A World Full Of Princesses Be A Witch Poster

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daebakinc · 7 years

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Mercy

Please have mercy on me. Take it easy on my heart. Even though you don’t mean to hurt me, you keep tearing me apart.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC Genre: College AU, angst, romance, Summary: After a homework mix-up, you agree to tutor Jungkook in math in exchange for him tutoring you in dance. In more ways than one, you get much more than you bargained for. Parts: 1, 2, 3 A/N: This was originally going to be a oneshot, but it kind of became a monster, so there’ll be at least 1 more part. Maybe 2…. Also, there is some swearing but I tried to keep it to a minimum.

Cats can’t dance. But if they did, they would dance like Jeon Jungkook. Fluid and virile and beguiling. Amid the other advanced dance class members, he shines like a star of his own.

You don’t mean to be spying on him. Technically, you aren’t anyway. Waiting in the freezing locker room after changing is not appealing. So, you’re waiting in the hall outside the studio. The door is a single pane of wide glass that gives an almost unobstructed view of floor full of dancers.

You secretly envy all the students inside. They can transform music into movement and make it look as naturally as breathing. Having that kind of intuition for beauty must be such an incredible gift. Jungkook received said gift ten-fold from the few glimpses of him you’ve seen.

Your university’s program has an impeccable reputation. Freshmen rarely get into the higher dance classes. However, even with your untrained eye, you applaud the department head for making an exception. Rumor has it Jungkook may be getting a solo piece in the spring art symposium. You can’t help but wonder if he’ll be the choreographer and what kind of music would best suit his abilities.

“Wishing you were in there?” Namjoon comes to stand beside you. Yoongi is just over his shoulder. They almost look like twins in their all black outfits, but you suppose that happens sometimes with best friends.

You snort. “No way. I’d look like a goose trying to do Swan Lake.” You turn to rest your back fully against the wall to better look at your friends. Even though you’re all different majors, your designated places in the back of the dance classroom made you bond quickly.

“Come on, you’re not that bad.” Namjoon smiles and joins you on the wall to nudge your shoulder with his. With his lanky frame, you would’ve thought he’d be graceful, but somehow the poor kid almost broke the ballet bar in the first week of class. Still, he’s improved a lot since then.

“Definitely not as bad as we were to start,” Yoongi drawls. He leans back and slides down the opposite wall. Although Yoongi can seem lazy, you’ve learned he’s anything but. And as much as he complains about dancing, he’s quite good. Putting his rolled hoodie behind his head, he sighs. “I’m going to have to set three alarms next time to get my butt out of the studio to register for classes for next semester so I don’t get stuck with a gen ed class like this.”

“The first aid classes were gone like that,” Namjoon laments with a snap of his fingers. “I was so focused on getting my psych and philosophy classes that I left this physical education credit to the last minute. First month of the semester is over at least.”

“You’re both exaggerating. You’re really good. I’m the one who’s going to fall on my face for our exam. I got a ‘C’ on that first performance test. A ‘C’. This’ll be my lowest grade since I failed that test in middle school,” you sigh.

“You failed a test?” Namjoon’s mouth falls open. One of your strongest bonding points with him is your drive for high grades. “You? What subject?”

“Not important,” Yoongi interrupts. He shoots you a teasing half smile. “You’ll ace it if you make it a comedy act.”

You roll your eyes. “Not helping, Yoongi.”

“I’m kidding. If we’re good, so are you.”

“Uh-huh.”

The door opens, putting a stop to your banter. You shift closer to Namjoon as students flow out. Jungkook is one of the last to exit, flicking damp bangs from his forehead. His plain white t-shirt sticks to his chest, leaving too little to the imagination. Sweat adds an extra sheen to his glowing tan skin. Sweaty men should not be this attractive. It’s just not fair.

When Jungkook sees Yoongi, a bright smile fills his face. “Hi! Oh, thanks.” He gratefully catches the water bottle Yoongi tosses him, pausing as his hand closes around the cap. “Don’t you need this?”

Yoongi waves his hand. “I always bring two. That one’s all yours, kid.”

“Nice to see you too, Jungkook.” Namjoon chuckles.

Before Jungkook can turn around and see your blushing face, you duck inside the classroom.

After class, you trudge up the long hill to the campus mailroom. The incline makes your legs hurt, but you’re desperately hoping the care package your best friend sent will be waiting. Chocolate and tea and a new face mask she now swears by. All the pampering an over-worked college girl needs.

When you open your mailbox, your anticipation instantly deflates. No package notice slip waits, only a bundle of unattractive looking papers. Closing your box, you flip through them. Various fliers and party notices go right into the convenient recycling bin. The last is a stapled packet of paper you recognize as your math test. It was only a mid- chapter review. You know you did well on it so you’re not really concerned with your grade.

Your hand tilts to drop it in along with the other content, but as the paper shifts, the first number of the grade catches your eye.

“What?” you screech.

Even if the mailroom wasn’t abandoned as it is at this hour, you wouldn’t care. You tear the paper open and stare at the first page. The big ‘F’ glares back you in accusatory red marker. The number grade below it only confirms the letter.

“This has to be a mistake,” you mutter, heart pounding and hands suddenly clammy. Sure, you barely studied, but this was simple stuff. You’d gotten check pluses on all your homework assignments for the chapter. Your eyes scan the page, jumping to the name when you notice the work isn’t in your handwriting.

Jeon Jungkook.

You freeze. The golden boy is bad… at math? Although you’ve never talked to him yourself, all you ever hear is how perfect Jungkook is. Everything he does seems designed for an article in the alum magazines, tailored to rake in the big buck donations. To say such a person doesn’t intimidate you a little would be lying, but here is a chink in his armor.

You snap the test back in half, embarrassed. You need to get this back to him as soon as possible. He obviously needs the review and you would personally be mortified if someone else saw a grade like this. A quick look in the student database gets you his dorm building and room number. Turns out he lives in your building, only three floors down.

Bass thumps through Jungkook’s door. Pokémon cutouts and fliers for some underground club plaster the surface, almost obscuring the smiley faces with Jungkook and his roommates’ names on them. You knock once, then harder when there’s no answer.

A tall boy with a bandanna headband opens the door. Even though you’ve never seen him in your life, he greets you with a wide grin. A requirement for this floor must be to be way more handsome than the average human. “Hi.”

His easy smile gives you a hit of courage. “Hi. Is, um, Jungkook here?”

“Yeah. Jungkook! There’s a cute girl here for you.” He winks and disappears back into the room, leaving you trying not to wrinkle the test in your nervous hands.

“A girl? Nice try, Tae. Why-” Jungkook stops short when he sees you standing there. He looks young and soft in another white shirt and faded black sweatpants. “Hi… I-I know you from somewhere, don’t I?”

“Kind of.” You smile. New people make you unsettled, but it’s something you’re attempting to work on. “I sit two rows in front of you in our math class and my Beginning Modern class on Tuesdays and Thursdays is right after your class. We’ve never talked though. I’m-”

“Wait, I know your name. You’re the one who always says 'present’ when the professor calls role,” When he says it correctly, you’re caught off guard. With such a big class, you didn’t expect him to remember your name, let alone a detail like that.

“Yes, that’s me. Old habits die hard.”

“Cool. So… what’s up?”

“Well,” you hold out the folded paper, “The professor accidentally put your review in my box. Mine’s 213.”

“Mine’s 231. Easy mistake to make, I guess. Thanks for bringing it.” Jungkook takes the test from you and sneaks a look at it.

His smile falls the second he sees the grade. His fingers crinkle the paper as his grip tightens. Frustration flares in his eyes, but degenerates into unhappy resignation in a blink.

The frown on his face is so piteous you can’t help making an impulsive offer. “Would you like me to tutor you?”

Jungkook’s face snaps up to yours, eyes wide. “Tutor me?”

“I’m really sorry; I thought it was mine so I saw your grade. I’m not the best in our class, but I still have an ‘A’ so I could tutor you to give you some extra help.”

He runs a hand through his hair, disturbing the beanie on his head. Though he looks tempted, clearly his pride is in play. “I don’t have any money to pay you…”

Another idea pops to life in your head. “We could do an exchange then, if you want. I tutor you in math, you tutor me in dance? I barely passed our midterm. It’s a win-win, right?”

“Take the deal already so we don’t have to listen to you moan and groan about your homework all the time,” a voice yells.

“I don’t complain; that’s you over your Chemistry, Hoseok!” Jungkook shouts over his shoulder. Turning back to you, a shyer version of his smile returns. “I appreciate the offer a lot, but I usually practice until late. That’s why I can’t use the school tutors.”

“I work late too at the cafe by the library every day except weekends.” You shrug. “I could meet you in whichever studio you use after work. You don’t have to agree-”

Jungkook jumps in, “Please. You saw my grade. I’d be really dumb not to say 'yes.’ I’ll make it work… I guess I should give you my number so I can let you know which studio I end up using.”

“Sure.” Digging out your phone, you hand it to him. In a matter of seconds, his phone dings and he hands yours back. You try not to notice the veins prominently etched under his skin.

“What time do you get off?” he asks.

“11 or 11:30, depending on how busy we are in the last hour.”

“I could probably finish or fit in a break around there. Do you want to start tomorrow or…?”

“Tomorrow’s fine. I’ll text you when I get off.”

“Sounds good. Really, thanks for this. You’re probably saving my butt this semester.”

“No problem.” Out of habit, you extend your hand before you can help yourself.

Jungkook looks down at it uncertainly but gives it a quick shake before you can retract it. His hand is warm and softer than you expected.

You quickly drop it and blurt out, “I’ve got other homework so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Me too. Have a good night.”

“You too. Bye.” You wave awkwardly and take off before you can embarrass yourself more.

Wednesdays are one of your busiest days. That means you don’t have time to think about your meeting with Jungkook until you’re turning off the light at 11:15. It’s a ten-minute walk across campus to the gym complex. Admittedly, you’re a little nervous. It usually takes you awhile to warm up to people, especially boys.

But Jungkook seems as shy as you normally are and he looked so disappointed with his grade, your caretaker side took over. But who knows if you’ll actually make a good tutor or if you’ll confuse him more. To avoid becoming a shaking mess, you stick in your earbuds and turn up the volume to an unhealthy level.

Just as you get to the gym door, you see someone moving towards it, key in hand. You run, your hand slamming on the door.

“Sorry, we’re closing-” The man looks up and you recognize Jungkook’s roommate who answered the door. He smiles just as brightly as before. “Oh, it’s you. You here to meet Jungkook?”

“Yeah. But you just said the gym’s closed.”

“Ah, not for you.” He pushes the door open and ushers you in. “Jungkook’s got special permission to practice as long as he wants. He knows how to get out once I lock up. He’s down on the ground floor, second studio on the right. Should be the only one with lights on.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Have fun, you crazy kids. Don’t do anything I’d do,” he calls after you as you head down the stairs.

The small studio is empty and quiet when you arrive. The green lights of the stereo are still blinking, but no Jungkook. When you step further into the room and look around, you see a torn piece of notebook paper with your name on it folded around the bar.

Grabbing a quick shower. Be back soon. -Jungkook

Shrugging, you notice a bookbag sitting on top of a pile of mats in the corner. A phone rests propped up against that. You settle yourself beside it and pull out your materials. Your textbook, the homework you already started, extra pencils, your calculator, and a copy of your notes you made for Jungkook. His writing on the note may be neat, but his notes could be a different matter entirely.

Jungkook walks back through the door. He jumps when he sees you, his eyes widening, but he recovers quickly. Another white shirt clings to the damp skin on his arms, but his basketball shorts hang loose around his legs. “Hey. I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

“No, I just got here a few minutes ago,” you assure him. “How’re you?” “Good, good. You?”

“Tired. I thought we could do math first and dance later? My feet could use a rest, sorry.”

“No, no. That’s fine.” He hurries over and leans down to rummage through his bookbag. You can smell his soap, sharp and fresh and sexy. “Can we go over the review? I still didn’t get half the problems even when the professor went over them.”

“Of course.”

His phone buzzes. Without meaning to, you look over in time to see the text: “Good luck with your pretty tutor 😉.”

Jungkook snatches the phone and stuffs it into his pocket. His ears are red and he ducks his head further into his bag. “Sorry. Taehyung just-… Sorry. He just likes teasing me.”

You look down at your lap and shuffle your papers to find your packet and hide your own pink cheeks. “He’s your roommate who works here?”

“Yeah. Got it.” Jungkook drops his bag on the floor so he can take its place beside you and open his book to the chapter. Glancing between the page and his paper, his eyes get bigger with a mixture of revulsion and utter confusion. He tries to smile when he turns to you and says, “So… polynomial functions…”

“Yeah. Exciting stuff.” You smile back to try to put him at ease in case he doesn’t catch the sarcasm. “Which problem do you want to start with?”

“Number three?”

“Okay. So, we have to sketch the graph for f(x) = x3- x2 – 9x + 9. Can I see what you did?”

He shifts his book so you can see as you move closer. Your shoulder brushes his. Jungkook tenses so you casually lean forward so you’re not touching anymore. A quick sniff proves you only smell like work. Maybe he doesn’t like coffee. His paper quickly distracts you from wondering though.

To say it is a mess would be generous. Frustrated pink from an eraser streaks under crammed calculations and scrubbed out mistakes. You can barely make out the final work. At least you know whatever problem Jungkook has isn’t from lack of trying.

“Why don’t we start fresh?” You tear out two pieces of paper and hand one to him. He murmurs his thanks as you balance your book on your knee closest to him. You write larger than normal so he can follow more easily. “We have our equation, so what’s our next step?”

“We have to factor it to find the zeros,” Jungkook sounds confident, but the unsure peek he gives you shows otherwise.

“Right.” Again, you smile to encourage him. “To do that, we need to group the terms. For this problem, that means essentially splitting it into x3- x2 and - 9x + 9. From there, we can factor out x2 from x3- x2, so we get x2 (x-1). Still with me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then we move on to the second part of the equation. What common factors does it have?

“Nine, so we’d get 9(x+1).”

“But what about the negative sign in front of 9x?”

Jungkook’s head jerks up from his work. His teeth marks are embedded in his pencil’s eraser like an anxious rabbit’s. “What negative sign?”

Pointing at his paper, you explain, “It’s from the original function. The subtraction sign in x3- x2 – 9x + 9 doesn’t just go away when we split the function to factor it. It goes with the 9 as a negative sign so when we factor, we should get -9(x-1). Otherwise, when we tried to reverse it, we’d get x3- x2 + 9x + 9. Always carry over the math sign. I think that’s what messed you up here. That and your end behaviors are reversed.”

“But isn’t it when the degree is odd, the graph rises to the left, and when the leading coefficient positive, the graph falls to the right?”

You shake your head and twirl a finger. “The opposite: odd degree means the left falls and positive coefficient means the right rises.”

Jungkook sighs but erases his answer and adds a note to the side.

“Wait.” Offering him your copied notes, you explain, “I made these for you. I take pretty good notes so… Anyway, I made a little chart there to show how the coefficients and degrees work. It’s easier for me to memorize them like that.”

“Cool. Thanks.” He looks between your notes and his paper, his lower lip protruding in a barely discernable pout. With another sigh, he quietly says, “You must think I’m really stupid, not getting this simple stuff. If she actually let us use our calculators for this part, I’d be set, but without it, I’m screwed.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” you reply earnestly. “A lot of people think you have to be good at math to be smart, but not everyone’s brains are wired that way. Sometimes it takes more work to understand math, especially higher math like this. It’s nothing to be ashamed of to not to get it the first few times.”

“You think so?” Jungkook asks, his shoulders straightening with hope.

“Yeah. Like one of my friends can order breakfast in four languages, but ask her to explain the chemistry that makes the meal and she’s silent. And you, you’re brilliant when you dance.”

“Thanks.” His face breaks into a wide, genuine smile. It’s so mesmerizing you almost miss when he asks, “When have you seen me dance though?”

“Sometimes I get out of my previous class early since it’s a lab so I get to catch the end of your class. I’ve seen you during some of the floor exercises,” you admit sheepishly.

“You were the one standing with Namjoon yesterday after class, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. We’re back buddies.” Before you can get more off track, you ask, “So, are we good with this one or do you want to go through it again?”

Jungkook looks between your paper and his. “I think I’m okay. We can move on. Number five?”

A pile of paper grows on the floor as you work through the rest of the pre-test. True to your earlier statement, Jungkook proves he’s not stupid. He asks lots of questions, his eyes flitting between your work, his own, and your notes. He just needs some individual attention. And maybe a bit more practice. At least you have another week before the test to help him.

When you finish the last question, the two of you stretch, your arms accidentally hitting each other. You both laugh and you twist the other way while Jungkook picks up his phone.

“Shit. It’s late.” Jungkook turns the screen so you can see it’s already past 12:30. A guilty frown is on his lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it’d take that long. Do you have to go to bed soon?”

Waving away his concern, you reply, “Nah. I’m usually up until one or two anyway, but if you need to practice more, you don’t need to bother with me tonight. We do have math tomorrow slash this morning.”

“But that wouldn’t be fair. You just spent an hour helping me.”

“Really, Jungkook. It’s okay.” You start putting things away in your bag. He’s probably just saying that to be polite. “We can do it another night. Plus, you’ve already showered. If we dance, you might get sweaty again.”

“It won’t hurt to take another one later.” He stands up, shaking out his legs. “We can do a short session so we can both get some sleep. We can make up the other thirty minutes another day. Deal?”

The expectant look he gives you has you staring back. If you were completely honest, you had only mentioned him tutoring you in return as an out for his pride. When you suggested it, you expected this to go the same way most of your relationships do. You give without reservation. They take without consideration. End of story.

It doesn’t bother you anymore. You think of it as putting out good karma and hope it will come back around some day. Jungkook’s unexpected readiness to return the favor is… well, unexpected.

“Hey, you awake?”

“Spotting,” you blurt out, still floundering in your thoughts. Focusing, you repeat, “Spotting. I can’t spot to save my life. I always fall or go off course when I turn.” Trying to cover your over-long pause, you add, “Sorry, there’re just so many elements I haven’t mastered yet that I couldn’t decide what I wanted to work on first.”

“You’re fine. Umm… okay, why don’t you try showing me what you do so I can watch?”

“Okay.” You gesture to your jeans. “Do you think it’ll be okay in these? Professor Duncan gave us a lecture that lasted half the period when someone showed up in jeans.”

Jungkook shrugs. “They are restrictive but since we’re not dancing long- Wait, hang on. I think I have a spare pair of pants in here.” He opens the cabinet beneath the stereo and rummages around, finally pulling out a pair of black sweatpants with a grin like he won the lottery. Tossing them at you, he says “You may have to roll up the legs, but these should work.”

“Do you live here?” you joke.

“Kinda. If I’m not sleeping or in class or the dining hall, I’m usually here. Well, sometimes I’m in my room for homework or-”

“Or what?” you ask when he doesn’t continue and just looks embarrassed.

“Nothing.”

“Okay.” You shove what other things he could be doing in his room away. If he’s like any other college boy, it could be as innocent as seeing how many kernels of popcorn he can fit in his mouth. Or it could be the very opposite of innocent. You move towards the door before your mind can go there. “I’ll be right back.” Your words prove prophetic as you return in less than a minute. “Um, Jungkook.”

He jumps, having been turned around to fiddle with the stereo. “Yeah?”

“The locker rooms are all locked. Would you mind if I-…”

“Oh.” Jungkook’s eyes get bigger and you catch him scanning your body before he realizes he’s doing it. He quickly shifts his eyes to the ground. “Oh. Right. I- I’ll- I’ll just go out in the hall. So you can change.” He escapes out the door like a ghost.

For the second time tonight, you’re staring. Even after just an hour with him, you can tell Jungkook’s got everything a person could want: cute bunny smile, more artistic talent than you could drum up in a lifetime, good manners. Yet the instant he remembers you’re of the opposite sex, he turns into a blushing kid. It’s as endearing as it is baffling.

You rush to change into his sweatpants, almost stumbling, and strip to the tank top you wear under your work shirt. “It’s safe,” you call as soon as the pants are secure around your waist.

Jungkook’s ears are still a little red when he comes back into the room. It calls attention to multiple piercings rimming the cartilage that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Do you want to work with music on or not?” he asks, one hand already on the stereo.

You hurriedly nod. “I like it.” You’ll be self-conscious enough having him totally focused on you. The music will give you something else to think about.

“Cool. Tell me if you want something else. I’ve got my iPod.”

The song that comes out the speakers is familiar and one of your favorites. “This is good. I like Charlie Puth.”

He grins back at you “Me too.”

Letting out a breath, you ask, “So, should I just… start?”

“Try five turns. Don’t try to go fast.”

You move to the center of the room and determinedly fix your sight on your reflection’s eyes. You ignore the broader, taller reflection that is Jungkook. It takes a few beats to position your feet correctly. With another deep breath, you bend your knees and push off.

After your fifth turn, you want to just sink into the ground. Although you try your best, you still wobble in the middle of each spin. Your head snaps around either too fast or too slow, losing your spot in the process.

“Just say it. I’m awful,” you sigh. You don’t bother turning around to look at Jungkook.

“No. I’ve seen worse.” He comes beside you and smiles when you meet his gaze in the mirror. “I had a friend back in elementary school who busted his nose on the mirror because he wanted to spin as fast as a Power Ranger. Blood everywhere, tons of little kids screaming.”

You burst out laughing, forgetting your humiliation. “Really?”

“Yeah. He quit the next week.”

“Poor kid.”

“At least you didn’t do that.” In a more serious tone, he adds, “You need to keep your back straighter. You tilt when you turn so that’s throwing you off balance. Wait, not like that.” Jungkook’s hands reach towards your shoulders, but stop just before they touch you. He looks at you in the mirror and asks uncertainly, “Is it alright if I touch you?”

Thankfully your face is already red from embarrassment so the tint of your bashfulness at his question is hidden. “Yes.”

Jungkook gently presses down on your shoulders, forcing them to relax. Simultaneously, he lifts your chin a little. “Lengthen your neck. Keep your chin, eyes, and shoulders level. They need to be strong to keep you from tilting but not tense or your next move won’t be as fluid.”

“Okay.”

“And let’s not try not spinning.”

“But that’s the entire point of spotting.”

“We’ll work back up to that. Just try small steps. It’s like the slower version of a turn. Once you master that, turning will get easier.”

“You’re the boss.”

As you adjust your feet again, Jungkook snaps his fingers. “Hang on, this might help.” He digs in his bag again and produces a small sheet of plastic. Peeling off a sticker, he slaps the Bulbasaur in the middle of the mirror and grins at his genius. “Use this as your spot.”

“Gotta catch ‘em all,” you giggle.

Jungkook is a strict but never harsh instructor, making you repeat a single turn a dozen times until your body is exactly positioned. Sometimes he tells you what adjustments to make, but other times he makes them himself, always asking permission. By the time one o’clock rolls around, you can make three out of five turns without looking like a drunken top. You’re still not turning fast, but it’s definitely an improvement and more than you expected to achieve.

“You did good,” Jungkook praises when you both start gathering up your things. “Thanks,” you reply, giving him a belated high-five. “I think you’ll be ready for the test next week with a few more sessions too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s just a matter of getting your rules straight.”

“Thanks.” He pauses when you take out your water bottle and take a swig. “Um, is all that supposed to be there?”

Chuckling, you nod. “It’s just cucumber and lemon slices. They give it a little extra something. Want to try?”

Jungkook waves his hand when you offer the bottle. “I’m good. Thanks though. By the way…”

“Hm?”

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” he asks. His eyes are on his shoes as he continues, “I know there’re those blue light stands, but… it’s still kind of dangerous since it’s so late.”

You busy yourself with getting into your bookbag straps so he can’t see how touched you are at his offer. “Actually, we live in the same building. I’m a few floors up from you.”

“Oh. I guess that works out then.”

Jungkook turns out the light behind you as you leave the studio. Neither of you speak as you climb the stairs out of the building and start across campus. You build up your courage to start asking him questions about his other classes about two minutes in. A safe topic. He gives short answers at first, but in the time it takes to reach your dorm, you’re laughing and griping about different professors like old friends instead of new ones.

“Seriously though, who in their right mind wants to be thinking about math at the ungodly hour of eight am? Even if that’s your job,” Jungkook complains as you reach his floor. “You make your own schedule. Why not noon when everyone’s brain is awake?” “Professor Irwin’s a bit odd,” you agree. “Well, here’s where I leave you. Same drill tomorrow night?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. Good night, Jungkook.”

“Night.”

Jungkook waves and disappears into the hall, leaving you alone on the stairwell. You feel a smile on your lips as you continue on the stairs to your own room. Friends aren’t something you make easily, but you think you’re already on your way to being good ones with Jungkook. It shoots a warm feeling inside your heart and for the first time, you actually look forward to math class. The last line of ‘Casablanca’ comes to mind: “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

#jungkook #bts #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #kpop scenarios #jeon jungkook #bangtan boys #bts jungkook #jungkook college au

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mesdea · 7 years

Text

The Philosophy of Lost Chances Chapter 3

It had seemed an eon since he had graced the massive refectory inside the temple walls. It was a great room in which all Jedi took their meals while assigned at the temple, but it was also so much more. It was an avenue where masters, padawans, and initiates mixed, there were no boundaries within these walls, and rank was just a word. He had almost forgotten how much he had missed interacting with his fellow Jedi, but it was still painful to observe those around him. They appeared to move with life, without effort, they were able to enjoy their meals, their friendships and their padawans.

Qui-Gon sat and viewed a small table, filled with senior padawans, their carefree banter interrupted by a passing master that offered them greetings. There was a Mon Calamari girl, a Dressellian whom seem to be inhaling food from everyone and a young man whom reminded him much of young Kenobi from earlier. They seemed the same age and were probably crechemates with the young man that was too cemented in his thoughts, even now. Regarding his plate once more, Qui-Gon begun to pick at the cold bland food, he felt he was intruding on their lives from the shadows as he watched their bi-play.

After his encounter with Padawan Kenobi he had made it to the meditation gardens, but had no success in finding his center. If he was honest with himself, it had been years since he had achieved that peace within the force. He was now sitting with a half-eaten meal, alone in his misery as everyone seemed to shun his presence. Even his old friend, Mace, had looked on him with something close to disgust just moments ago. How could he blame him? It’s not like he had returned any of the letters he had received over the years. Why should he show interest now that he was back at the temple?

Just as the master was about to forgo what was left of his dinner, he heard a small cough across the table. “I do hope you planned on eating more than that, Master Jinn?” He looked up to see the sparking eyes of Obi-Wan Kenobi once again. Eyes that seemed to be full of care and understanding, even though they did not know each other in the least, it was something that set his nerves on edge and urged him to feel once more.

“I was not very hungry, but I appreciate your concern, Padawan Kenobi.” It was a curt response, but he wanted this padawan to just leave him be. Was it wrong for a master of his age to just stand and disappear? No, it would not do for him to shun the young man in front of the entire hall; he would at least act like he deserved the title of master.

“Please call me Obi-Wan.” The soft voice seemed to speak to him as if he was a frightened animal. It was a soothing voice, which was low and even in hopes of not scaring away its prey.

Qui-Gon paused for a moment looking up from his discarded food and gazed at the young man before him. His bronzed, reddish hair was spiked in the ridiculous cut of a padawan and his braid rested over the left shoulder. The braid, a symbol of his time with a master, Master Windu not him, not his padawan, the words seemed to burn into his mind. There were many beads wound into the braid, marks of honor and accomplishments, finished off with a bright purple glass bead. It was a symbol of his devotion to his master, the color of Mace Windu’s lightsaber.

Obi-Wan seemed to let the moment continue on, the silence between the two a bit awkward as he stood before the master’s table, hoping for an invitation. He remembered his master’s words when they entered the hall and was eager to befriend such a lost soul, but he also knew that there was a reason his master was adamant about guarding his heart. The man before him was utterly broken and drowning in the past. He looked around for a moment and watched all the padawans and Masters around the room continue on with their conversations, but none seemed to pay attention to the man before him. How could they not feel the force around him, how could they not see the lifeline that reached out to them for a safe harbor?

Qui-Gon saw the young man looking about and figured he was desperately looking for a way out of the situation before him. “It was good to see you again, Obi-Wan, but I must go.”

“You didn’t finish your meal!” Obi-Wan was pulled from his thoughts.

Qui-Gon stood up and pushed his chair in, gathering the food try into his large hands. “I am old enough to take care of myself, Padawan.” The words were a bit icy, but Qui-Gon didn’t need to be coddled.

Obi-Wan bowed his head, chastised at the response. “I’m sorry Master Jinn, it wasn’t my place. I just…”

Qui-Gon quickly cut him off, the sullen face breaking his icy demeanor once more, “It’s ok Obi-Wan, I’m just tired. I’ve been gone from the temple a long while and I am just not used to interacting much.” The confession startled him, but he just nodded. It was time to back off, the force prodded him.

“It will get better, even if it feels foreign to you now.” Obi-Wan bowed slightly to the roughened master and headed over to the table with the Dressellian and company. They immediately started screaming the young man’s name, standing to give him gentle hugs. He seemed to be a welcome addition to their jovial banter as he handed over half his plate to the Dressellian. “Reeft, I will just give this to now and save us both the trouble.”

“Obi-Wan, we missed you so much.” Bant Eerin, the young Mon Calamari smiled.

“I missed you too, my old friend. I trust you’ve kept Reeft and Garen out of trouble while I was gone?”

“Hey, we don’t need a babysitter Obi-Wan!” They both spoke in tandem.

Qui-Gon watched them interact with each other so easily and stood silent for a moment. He longed for that same feeling of belonging and he once had it with Mace, Tahl and Micha. He could have it again if he just simply reached out, but he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to have that happiness. Qui-Gon pulled himself from those emotions and emptied his tray. “You didn’t eat, Mastah.” The small boy before him looked up showing off a brilliant smile.

“My young Quint, I promise I am quite full.”

“I ate all mah food, Master Antma say that if we don’t eat we won’t get big and strong.” Quint’s tiny hands were trying to push his empty tray on the counter to be washed. Qui-Gon reached out to help him, raising the young boy just a bit off the ground.

“Well that is very true, but I don’t think I need to get any bigger, do you?” The master set the youngling back down and gently ran his hands through the mop of hair. “It was good to see you again, Quint, make sure you tell Master Antma that you finished all your food, perhaps you will get frozen pallies for dessert.”

His cerulean eyes sparkled with delight as he ran off towards the creche master, speaking of frozen desserts.

“Well I will be damned; Master Jinn’s heart isn’t the frozen mass that we believed it to be. There is still a sliver of the man we once called friend.” Qui-Gon turned at the voice, the even steady melodic voice of his old friend, Tahl. She looked just as she had years before, beautiful and stoic. She stared at him, as if determining her course of action.

Years before she had been on a mission to Melida/Daan and was almost blinded, but the assignment of both Windu and Kenobi had seen her transported back to the temple quickly, saving both her life and her eye sight. As they stood before each other, she looked almost the same. The frown on her face lifting to a smile. “It is about time you returned, Qui.” Her voice softened just a bit.

“I’m not a monster; I can still manage to not scare small children and animals.” Qui-Gon started to step forward to leave.

“You’ve never been a monster, Qui, except to yourself.” She tried to pull his arm to hers, but he stiffened at the touch and pulled away.

“I’m sorry Tahl, I was just returning to my quarters. I’m still exhausted from my last mission.” He looked one last time to the table of laughing padawans and took a deep breath.

“That’s ok Qui, You can continue to hide for now, but sooner or later you will have to let us in. Tea, tomorrow?” Tahl once again moved forward and wrapped her arms around the stiff body. Her embrace was warm and comforting as it had been since they were little ones. He found his body contouring slightly around her as he heard someone clearing their throat behind him.

“Jinn.” Tahl let go and shook her head. ‘Don’t scare him away, Mace’ went through her head as she let go of her old friend.

“Windu.” Qui-Gon bit back, wondering when they had switched to such formal greetings, but how could he blame him. Mace had often sent communications after Xan…no, he would not think of that name now, he wouldn’t bring that darkness into his life right now. Mace had sent many letters, only to receive silence in return, especially after he had taken a padawan, THE padawan that Yoda declared meant for him.

“I can assume you aren’t here because you wish to be. How long did the troll say you would be in temple?” Mace tried his best to not scream at the man before him.

“I honestly don’t know, Mace. I’m here until I get another assignment, which could be in an hour or a month. It’s in the hands of the force and the council.” The need to run from the hall was tugging at his emotions. He felt his breath starting to quicken, along with his heart. He wouldn’t do this here; he wouldn’t do this in front of the masses and his old friends.

“I...I’m sorry but there is somewhere I must be. It was good to see you both.” He offered, wanting to escape the situation before it overwhelmed him. Tahl and Mace watched the slouched master flee from the room, as if the sith themselves had descended on the temple.

“You could have been more welcoming.” She spoke softly.

“Why should I? He is the one that chose to be alone. He is the one that never wrote, never visited all in the name of some penance. I took Obi-Wan as my padawan and I was suddenly a pariah that was off limits.” Windu started to burn with anger as the words raged on. “We loved him as if a brother, Tahl! He turned on us, when he should have turned to us.”

She allowed him to continue on, knowing that it was not anger but sorrow that made her friend’s words burn. “He’s here now. Perhaps he just needs a shoulder to lean on; perhaps he just needs someone to kick his ass?” No one really knew how to help Qui-Gon, but she ached to see the man he used to be.

“He might, but he isn’t going to hurt my Padawan!” His voice raised and flinched as he saw Obi-Wan look up from his friends and give him a puzzled look.

“I see.”

“No you don’t, Obi-Wan is determined to befriend him.” Mace whispered.

“I do see. You love Obi-Wan. You want to protect him, even though he’s almost a Knight. I look at Bant the same way, but you can’t control what is to come, Mace. You were right to claim him when he was younger, Qui-Gon might have grown to love him, but at what cost to that young man’s spirit?”

“I saw it all, Tahl. I saw a broken old man, alone and still agonizing over acceptance by the one man that meant the most to him, his master. I won’t see him that lonely old man, Tahl. I can’t.” Mace hung his head and rubbed his temples once more, the headache he had earlier exploding behind his eyes.

“One ripple, one decision made can forever alter the universe around us, Mace. Your taking of Obi-Wan may have already altered any future that brings about that sad old man. Would it really hurt to allow Obi-Wan to try, someone needs to get through to Qui before it’s too late. Would you have our friend fall to the darkside?” Her voice was lower as she said out loud what they all thought.

“Who’s to say he hasn’t already? I don’t want to risk his open heart, Tahl.”

“That is not your place any more, Mace. He’s of age, no longer a child and let’s face it, will do what the force wills of him, even if that means ignoring your great wisdom.” Laying her hand gently on his shoulder, she started to walk away, turning just slightly to offer one last word. “We all need a life line, perhaps Obi-Wan can be his. If he fails, he will always have you to mend his broken heart. Who does Qui-Gon have Mace?”

Tahl turned back to the doors and walked out, leaving the question unanswered. She knew that Mace would do the right thing, if he hated the outcome. He was a good man, a good master and a better friend, even if he had to be reminded of the latter.

As the walls started to narrow, his heart started to beat faster. Not now, not here. He had to make it back to his quarters; he had to keep his composure just a bit longer. Qui-Gon stalked down the hall, his hood around his features, hoping it would keep those around him from speaking. He was almost there, his door just within reach as his veins seem to turn to ice. Run, his body spoke, run and get away. Run away from the fear that only seemed to follow faster as the minutes continued on. His shaky hand ran over the reader as the doors opened.

Qui-Gon collapsed on his knees as the door closed behind him. His body was shaking with the effort to breathe as his heart seemed to thump from his very chest. Breathe, he told himself. Breathe and be still. Placing his hand on his chest, he tried to pull from the force to calm him soul. He had been having panic attacks for the last year, usually in times of great stress, but times he was alone. He had never felt so helpless and alone than he did at this moment.

His breath hitched as he seemed to be over the worse of the attack. “Reach out for help you should.” He heard the words of his master as he lowered himself to the floor into a fetal position. What happened to the strong man he had become, what happened to the master that he should be. He was now just a puddle of nerves and anxiousness that couldn’t be trusted around people he once called friends.

“Sleep.” He heard the words whispered, but from where he had no idea. It sounded like the best advice ever. When was the last time he had truly slept? Last week, last month…Last year, no, it had been the night before he had left for Telos and his entire life had changed in an instant.

“Sleep.” Yes, he thought, sleep. Maybe he wouldn’t wake up, the thoughts jostled him and he lurched back to his feet. Where had that thought come from, he had never actively sought death. He had never wanted to leave his life.

“What life?” The darkness of the room seemed to speak to him. Perhaps the shadows were right, no. No, he was just tired, he just needed rest. He just needed to make it to his bed. Discarding his robe, Qui-Gon struggled to the bedroom, where he crawled into the bed, clothes and all, wrapping his body around the large pillow. Sleep, just sleep. The last vision in his head before the darkness enclosed was sparking blue-grey eyes, those eyes that would haunt him even in sleep.

#Qui Gon Jinn #obi wan kenobi #tahl #mace windu #QuiObi

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