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megalodont · 4 years

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Mdzs Women Appreciation Week, Day 6: Qin Su and/or Yu Ziyuan

Read it here or on ao3!

It was Qin Su’s first trip to Lanling as an official representation of their sect, and she had spent the entire evening hiding her trembling hands in her wide sleeves. Her father, a good friend of Jin-zongzhu, came to Koi Tower often, but she had not attended since she was a young girl. She was sixteen now, however, and her father had decided it was time for her to accompany him. Her mother had argued that she wasn’t ready—a sentiment Qin Su privately agreed with—but in the end their father had won out, and Qin Su had been dressed in extravagant new robes and brought to Lanling. Koi Tower was a hundred times more formal and a thousand times more opulent than the small court at Laoling where she had grown up, and she felt rural and awkward surrounded by the elegant men and women of the Lanling Jin Sect.

Her father had drifted a short distance away to speak with an old friend, and Qin Su stood by herself awkwardly, her heart fluttering in her chest as though the gentry swirling around her were fierce corpses.

Qin Su nodded deferentially whenever someone passed by close enough for it to be polite, and would then second guess whether that had been the correct move every time. People eyed her, lingering on her robes, and Qin Su fought a blush at the lack of gold embroidery that seemed so ubiquitous here.

She was so hyper aware of everyone that it was easy for her to note when they began looking towards the entrance and whispering.

“Here by herself again,” a nearby man murmured to his companion.

“Well of course, everyone knows…” Qin Su did not manage to hear what ‘everyone knew’ before they drifted away, but soon more whispers reached her.

“...heard she killed forty of them all by herself...”

“...Jin-furen’s best friend…”

“...terrifying…”

“...amazing…”

“...horrible woman…”

Despite herself, Qin Su stretched up on her toes to see who they were all talking about, feeling some of the pressure of people’s stares as they all looked towards the dias.

Yu Ziyuan strode through the gawking crowd as though they were stalks of wheat bending out of her way, their whispering only the wind moving through the field as she brushed past unconcerned. She was as regal as an empress in her sumptuous purple robes, Zidian proudly displayed on her finger, but there crackled a certain feral energy around her, like a sleeping leopard. Her face remained severe as she greeted Jin-furen, but it was as if there was no one else in the room except her friend.

“Excuse me for saying so, guniang, but you seem lonely standing here all by yourself. Did you come with someone?” Qin Su startled like a deer and spun to find a finely-dressed young man, perhaps ten years older, smiling down at her. His eyes had been resting somewhere lower than her face, and when she turned they flicked up to meet hers unwaveringly.

“Oh, um, yes, I came with my father,” she answered hesitatingly, indicating Qin Cangye, and then startled when she realised she hadn’t bowed. Quickly she swept low, but the man caught her arms in an overly-familiar gesture.

“Oh no, no need for that, guniang. I’m sure we’re going to be too close for such formalities soon. My name is Jin Licuo, I’m a senior disciple here.”

“Qin Su, of Laoling Qin,” she offered.

“That sounds familiar,” he said, leaning into her space. “Aren’t you the daughter of Qin-zongzhu? I heard you would be gracing us with your presence today.” He closed the considerable distance between their heights still further. She smiled uncomfortably at him.

“Yes,” she agreed when the silence stretched too long. She chanced a glance at her father, but he had been engaged by Jin-zongzhu himself and could not rescue her.

“You’re not betrothed to anyone yet, are you?” He asked.

“I’m not,” she said trying to make her voice sound repressive without being rude. She avoided eye contact, but it only made him lean closer.

“So if someone wanted to court you, they could?”

Qin Su swallowed, her hands clenching in her sleeves. “They would—they would have to ask my father.”

“Your father the sect leader,” he said, his voice both hungry and performatively nervous. “It’s a lot to ask of a man that he gets a sect leader’s permission to court a pretty girl. Maybe we could start without that and ask him if things got serious, hmm?”

“Um, I don’t think—” Could Qin Su tell him how inappropriate that was? Or was this normal here? She bit the inside of her cheek and tasted copper. “I—”

“I see that pig is raising his disciples to be just as licentious as he is,” came an assertive voice. Qin Su turned to blink up at Yu Ziyuan’s cruel and beautiful face.

“Yu-furen,” Jin Licuo said with a deep bow, not a trace of his oily charm in the obeisant movement.

“Z-Zi Zhizhu,” Qin Su stuttered, awed by the power of the woman’s presence.

“If you can’t tell when a woman doesn’t appreciate your advances then you must be as observant as a rock. Is this the quality of disciple the Jin sect has? If you can’t see what’s in front of your face you’ll be eaten by corpses soon enough.” Though her words were certainly harsh it was her caustic tone which made the Jin disciple twitch, the sound well suited to a battlefield commander.

“I—Qin-guniang and I were merely talking, Yu-furen—”

“Don’t give me that,” she snapped. “I am not a fool, and you are not a genius. If it was not the fault of your poor training then I have to assume you are simply a bullheaded philanderer like your sect head!” Qin Su gasped aloud at Yu Ziyuan’s audacity. Rumours were one thing, but to say it so publicly? How did she dare? Qin Su felt the congregation's stares keenly but the woman did not seem to care, laying into the young man as she saw fit. “If you can’t keep your hands off visiting women I shudder to think how you act with the disciples and serving girls here. Perhaps I should have Lusi watch you. I’m sure her punishment for improper behaviour would be harsh enough to satisfy me,” she threatened, naming the Jin sect leader’s wife..

Jin Licuo flinched at that. “Of—of course, Yu-furen, I would welcome her direction in my conduct.”

“Hmph.” Yu Ziyuan injected enough venom into that syllable to befit her title. Then she turned to Qin Su, making the girl tremble under the weight of her regard. Jin Licuo slunk off, correctly interpreting this dismissal, and Qin Su almost wanted to call him back to take Yu Ziyuan’s terrible focus off her.

“Are you the Qin girl?” She asked, expression severe but tone almost neutral.

“Yes, Zi Zhizhu,” Qin Su said, her voice faded and thready. She rallied. “I am Qin Su of Laoling Qin.”

“Hmph. Can you fight?”

Qin Su flinched. “N-no, Zi Zhizhu. I don’t have any aptitude for it, I’m afraid.” She fought the urge to sink into the gilded tile.

“And what do you do, if you do not cultivate?”

“I...I help my mother and father with sect affairs. Correspondence, economical matters, that… type of thing...” Qin Su trailed off, feeling pathetic under the eye of this warrior queen.

Yu Ziyuan eyed her critically. “So you focus on politics. You spend your time keeping things running instead of haring off to whack things with a sword. You do the important work few else could manage and leave the grunt work to the grunts.”

Qin Su blinked. “I… Yu-furen?”

“Well?” She snapped. “Is that accurate?”

“In… a manner of speaking? It is much too generous a way of describing—”

“No.” Yu Ziyuan’s voice cracked like her whip. “It is not too generous. Do not efface yourself, girl, for others will do that enough for you. Describe yourself as generously as you must to counterbalance their mutterings. Believe what you say, and only what you say. Don’t let upstart little peacocks like that,” she gestured sharply in the direction of the departed Jin Licuo, “walk all over you. You only have as much value as you give yourself, you hear? So straighten up.” The woman chucked Qin Su none-too-gently under the chin, forcing her to stand tall and proud. For a brief second Qin Su recalled she was a mother. “Qin Cangye!” She demanded, strident. Qin Su saw her father startle and turn towards them. “Did you forget your daughter in your haste to lick Jin boots?” The man stiffened in reflexive shock at the woman’s disrespect, but as soon as his eyes fell on Qin Su his face softened in concern. He glanced back at the group of men gathered around him with a hint of shame and began to make his way over. “Not,” Yu Ziyuan said to Qin Su, more quietly than she had anything thus far, “that you need him. You only need one person, Qin Su.” Qin Su blinked up at her, a huge, terrifying feeling opening up in her chest. “And who is it?” She demanded after a moment of silence in which she seemed to have expected a response.

Qin Su smiled at her, Yu Ziyuan’s lightning crackling through her mind. “Myself.”

#qin su #yu ziyuan #mdzs #the untamed #mdzswomen #mdzs fic #paris writes

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bangtaninink · 5 years

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closer by ravyn lenae, taehyung, sugar daddy au 🥵

Here’s the song!

You stare down at your phone, too distracted by your most recent text from Taehyung to focus on the rest of the lecture. Thursday is the day after tomorrow, and you have absolutely no idea what you need to be doing to get ready for it.

“Don’t forget, next week is the due date for your midterm papers, everyone,” Professor Kang announces, organising his notes. “Tomorrow will be your last chance to grovel for an extension.”

The laughter in the theatre brings you back to reality, coming to just as Professor Kang dismisses the class.

“What’d he say?” you ask Jinah next to you, packing up your stuff.

“He just reminded us that our paper’s due next week. Weren’t you listening?” Jinah replies, eyebrows furrowed.

“Nope.”

“Typical.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “It’s a wonder how you’re one of the best students when you hardly ever pay attention. Meanwhile, I’m here, going to every damn lecture, and still struggling to pass everything. I’m stealing your notes later.”

“Sure, whatever.”

“You going to work now?”

“Yeah,” you reply, sighing. “Eunseok better not be there again, or I swear to God, I’m quitting.”

“I’ll be praying for you,” Jinah says, laughing. “Alright. I gotta go. See you at home.”

〰️

“Your change comes to 10,000 Won,” you say, handing money back to the customer. “Who was ne–”

Taehyung smiles at you as he steps up to the counter, hands tucked comfortably into the pockets of his slacks.

“Hello…” He leans forward slightly, making a show of looking down at your name badge. “_____.” You press your lips together, holding back laughter.

“Hi,” you say. “What can I get for you?”

“Mmm, I’ll have a mocha frappuccino, with extra whipped cream.” Taehyung looks over his shoulder at the man standing behind him, looking off to the side, earpiece curling around the shell of his right ear. “You want anything, Jeongguk?”

“Oh. Uh. Sure,” Jeongguk says. “I’ll have an Americano, iced, with an extra shot, thank you, _____.”

“A mocha frappuccino and an Americano,” you repeat. “Would you like anything else today… sir?”

You feel smug, watching Taehyung’s eyebrow twitch, almost laughing at the expression on Jeongguk’s face as he overhears.

“That’ll be all, thank you,” Taehyung replies, reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a thin leather wallet. He looks down at the display in front of the register, pulling out a single, crisp fifty-thousand Won note. “Keep the change, angel.”

He sends you a wink before he walks over to a table with Jeongguk following right behind, eyes undoubtedly turning his way as people stare, wondering why the sole heir of Bangtan Enterprises is getting his coffee at a cafe that is no where near Gangnam.

Lazy steps signal Yoongi stepping out of the back room to join you at the counter, default straight face slowly turning into slight annoyance.

“What’s happening?” he asks.

“Kim Taehyung is here, boss man,” Hoseok says, singsongy.

“What? Why?”

“Who knows? Who cares? He’s at our cafe.”

“What’d he order?”

“Uhh…” Hoseok looks over your shoulder, slinging a tea towel over his shoulder. “A mocha frappuccino with extra whipped cream, and an iced Americano with an extra shot of coffee. Three guesses which drink is for who?”

“Whichever one of you is making his drinks, make sure it’s good. We don’t need to be roasted and dragged through the mud during his next press conference,” Yoongi says, already shuffling back to return to the back office.

“Hey, Yoongi?” you ask; he hums in response. “He paid with a fifty-thousand Won bill and told me to keep the change. Just so you know.”

“Wh– that’s like forty-thousand Won,” Hoseok says, gawking at the money in your hand.

“He’s not gonna take it back, I don’t think.”

“Um.” Yoongi looks down at the money, scratching his head as he is, for once, taken aback. “What… are we supposed to try and give it back?”

“I mean,” you say. “We can try, but I don’t think he’ll take it.”

“Yeah, and besides: what’s forty-thousand Won to one of the richest guys in the country?” Hoseok says, grinning.

“Just–” Yoongi sighs, glancing down once more at the money, then back up to you and Hoseok. “Make his drinks. Don’t keep him waiting.”

You shrug, saying, “you’re the boss.”

“And bring them out to him, _____.”

“Wh–”

“What, you’re gonna make the Kim Taehyung collect his drinks? Like… like some sort of pleb?” Hoseok says, eyes wide. “You’re insane. I told you college was rotting your brain, girl.”

You snort and walk to the other end of the counter, getting to work on making Taehyung’s drinks.

You’re in the middle of extracting shots of coffee when the door to the cafe opens, and a loud group of people walk in, with very little care for the rest of the patrons around.

Of course one of them has to be Eunseok.

Hoseok busily takes the group’s orders while you finish up on Taehyung’s drinks, dreading the moment you have to take them to his table when you notice Eunseok and the rest of his friends sit themselves down on tables between the counter and Taehyung, leaving you with no choice but to walk past them.

“All done?” Hoseok asks, coming over to you to get to work on the next batch of orders.

“Yeah,” you say. “Hey, Seok. How would you like to be the one to deliver Kim Taehyung’s drinks to him personally?”

“Nope,” Yoongi interrupts; you and Hoseok flinch.

“What th– I thought you went to the back!”

“I figured I should probably stay here and make sure you guys don’t mess up a billionaire’s coffee. Anyway. You take the drinks out, _____.”

“Why me?”

“You’re the prettiest face in this cafe right now. We need to make a good impression.”

“Uh, one: I’m offended, but two: I agree,” Hoseok says. “Knowing me, I’m gonna choke and trip on air. It’s probably for the best that you do it.”

You sigh quietly, but reach for a tray to carry the drinks over on.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Yoongi says, hand on your arm to stop you. You watch, confused when he walks over to the cake display case, taking a slice of the strawberry shortcake and the chocolate cake, placing it down onto the tray too.

“Uh, I don’t think he’ll–” you start.

“_____. He could drive this cafe to the ground with one bad word. Our jobs depend on this.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll go. Jeez.”

You snort and shake your head, laughing as you walk away from the counter. The laughter dies down, however, when you remember what – or rather, who – you’ll need to pass to get to Taehyung, and you steel yourself, avoiding eye contact.

Despite your best efforts, you don’t make it through without a hiccup.

Fortunately for you, you catch the way Eunseok sticks his foot out in an attempt to trip you with a full tray. You still trip, but by some grace of God, you manage to not spill anything. You don’t realise you’d been holding in a breath until you’re standing upright again, feeling your heart pounding as Eunseok and his friends laugh loudly.

As usual, Taehyung doesn’t miss a thing.

“Jeez. Watch where you’re going, you klutz,” Eunseok cries as you continue to walk over to Taehyung’s table. “You could’ve spilled drinks all over Kim Taehyung.” His laughter stops immediately as he realises what he’d just said. “K-Kim Taehyung?”

“You alright?” Taehyung asks quietly, eyebrows furrowed as you set down his and Jeongguk’s drinks.

“Hmm? Yeah, no I’m good. It’s just Eunseok,” you reply, shrugging and feigning nonchalance.

“Just Eunseok,” Jeongguk replies. “That sounds sus. Want me to beat him up?”

“No, Jeongguk. It’s fine.” You chuckle softly. “Don’t ruin your suit. I actually really like this one.”

“See? I was right. All black is the way to go, sir. Even _____ agrees.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem to let go of what happened, and you notice this, quick to step and block his view as he tries to glance over at Eunseok’s table.

“Don’t,” you say. “You’re gonna do something crazy. I can see it in your eyes. Just leave it. He’s just an idiot who’s been tackled in rugby too many times. He’s got three braincells left – tops.” Jeongguk snorts, almost choking on a sip of coffee. “Just enjoy your coffee and free cake.”

“Dibs on the chocolate one,” Jeongguk says, already pulling the plate closer to himself.

Taehyung is quiet, before exhaling through his nose with restrained frustration and looking up at you.

“Alright,” he says. “If you say so. Thank you, petal.”

“Call out if you need anything else.”

〰️

“Who the fuck is that?” Yoongi asks quietly, clearly having seen everything, judging by the scowl on his face.

“Just some idiot that’s been trying to make my life a living hell since freshman year. No biggie,” you say, shrugging and putting the tray down on the counter.

“‘No bigg–’? _____, he just tried to trip you!”

“Yeah, so?”

“So?” Hoseok cries, slamming down a plastic cup on the bench. “_____.”

“Guys. Just leave him. There are bigger problems in the world than an idiot with a 2.1 GPA.”

Yoongi sighs.

“Fine. How was Mr. Kim?” he asks.

“He was alright. He didn’t bite my head off, if that’s what you were expecting. I didn’t melt into a puddle in the awesome of his presence either.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t,” Hoseok says with a nod, impressed.

“He’s a human being, Seok. Not an alien,” you reply, laughing.

“Eh. Could’ve fooled me.”

〰️

“Hi. Excuse me.”

Eunseok turns with a confused sound, scowl etched on his features, until he realises the person who has called for his attention is Taehyung. He starts to cough, coffee trickling down his throat the wrong way.

“H-hi. Hello. Yes. Kim Taehyung, sir,” he says, clearing his throat. The girl beside him nudges his side as a violent reminder, and Eunseok stands, bowing his head.

“What’s your name?” Taehyung asks, taking a loud sip of his drink.

“L-Lee Eunseok!”

“Eunseok, huh? Are you a student at the university near here too?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“What’s your major?”

“Ah, I’m… kind of between majors right now. Just tryin’ to find the right one for me, ya know?” (Jeongguk snorts, turning to look out the window to not make his distaste obvious.) “But I’m the soccer of the captain team! I-I mean… captain of the soccer team.”

“I-I’m on the soccer team too, sir!” one of Eunseok’s friends pitches in, leaning forward for Taehyung to see.

“I see,” Taehyung says, rolling his cup around in his hand. “And the girl who served me my coffee?”

“Who, _____?” Eunseok scoffs. “She’s just some nerd who spends all her time getting on lecturers’ ‘good sides’ and volunteers at some stupid animal shelter. Hardly worth your time or attention, sir.”

“Is that right?”

“She’s, like, top of the class or somethin’,” one of the girls at the table says, rolling her eyes. “And she’s on scholarship or whatever. What a snooze.”

“I take it you guys aren’t fans of hers,” Taehyung says, eyebrow arched.

“Well, yeah. She ratted out Eunseok oppa for cheating on his mid term paper and final exam in sophomore year. But, like… he only cheated because if he didn’t pass his classes, he wasn’t gonna be let onto the team anymore. He barely made it on that year.”

Taehyung sees Jeongguk press his fist to his lips, disguising more laughter as a restrained cough. Taehyung agrees wholeheartedly with his bodyguard, but remains calm.

“Hey, uh, Mister Kim Taehyung, sir,” Eunseok says. “What brings you out here anyway?”

“Hmm? Oh. Just… passing through. I don’t get to visit this side of Seoul very often, and I had some time to kill,” Taehyung replies with a small shrug. “Anyway. We should get going, I think. I should get back to work.”

“No, yeah, of course! Right!” Taehyung thinks Eunseok’s head could fall off with how much he’s nodding. “I-It was really nice to meet you, sir.”

Jeongguk is the first to stand, adjusting his suit jacket before stepping aside to let Taehyung walk ahead of him.

Taehyung gives the table a nod and a smile, before approaching to counter.

Hoseok, manning the counter, freezes, eyes wide.

“Hello. Hoseok, was it? I’d like to ask, if I can: were you the one who made our coffee today?” Taehyung asks.

“Uh… it was mostly _____, but I’ll take some credit if you’d like,” Hoseok replies, laughing.

“Seok, don’t forget to refill the paper cups as w–” Yoongi stops, mid sentence, noticing Taehyung at the counter.

“Hi there. You are…?” Taehyung says, head tilting slightly.

“U-um… Min Yoongi. I’m the manager here. Sir.”

“Ah, the manager! Well then, thank you for the hospitality. I’m sure I speak on my and Jeongguk’s behalf when I say that the coffee was great. I’ll be sure to recommend this cafe to my friends if they ever happen to pass by this part of town.”

“Oh my g– wow. Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.”

“Of course. Is… _____ still here? Hoseok here mentioned that she was the one who made our coffees. I’d like to extend my compliments if I could,” Taehyung says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter.

“Yes, no, of course! Give me a second.” Taehyung watches as Yoongi pokes his head into the back room, yelling out your name. “Hi. Yeah. She’s just here.”

“What?” you ask, clipboard in hand, stepping out to approach the counter and resting against it. “Oh, hey. Were you after something else?”

“No, we’re on our way out, and Jeongguk and I just want to say thank you for the coffee. It was lovely, _____.”

“Oh, no problem. Stop by anytime you’d like. We’ll be here.”

“Agreed,” Hoseok says, nodding.

“Noted.”

Taehyung straightens up, hands still flat on the counter, and you look down to watch his fingers tap against the laminated wood. When you glance up, he has a pensive look on his face, but he doesn’t give you a second to question it before he’s leaning forward, gingerly cradling your chin on his finger and thumb as he kisses you.

You hear gasps, camera shutters going off on phones, people coughing as they choke on sips of coffee and bites of cake, and Hoseok dropping plastic cups behind you.

When he pulls away, he’s smiling, and you roll your eyes and laugh.

“What happened to ‘lowkey’, huh?” you ask, arching a brow.

Taehyung shrugs as he leans back, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks, saying, “changed my mind.” You lock eyes with Jeongguk over Taehyung’s shoulder; he laughs quietly, shaking his head. “Also. You didn’t reply to my text.”

“Wh– I was in a lecture!”

“Ugh. Studying.”

“I’m sorry. Who was the one who cancelled a dinner date because I, quote, ‘needed to finish the term paper, even if it’s not contributing to your final grade’?”

“Oof. She got you there,” Jeongguk says.

“You’re not helping,” Taehyung says, sighing. “Are you okay for Thursday though?”

“Hmm.” You turn around to look at Yoongi, whose eyes resemble marbles. “Am I rostered on for Thursday, Yoongs? Yoongs? Yoongi.”

“Huh? What? What’s up?”

“Am I working on Thursday?” you ask.

“You… uh… um… I… n-no?”

You turn back to Taehyung, shrugging and saying, “guess I’m free for Thursday.”

“Perfect,” Taehyung replies with a grin. “Should I come back and pick you up after your shift today? I’m free after seven.”

“Nah. I’m alright. I have to study tonight.”

“Right. Of course. Well, we should let you guys get back to work then. Call me when you get home so I know your alive, angel.”

“Will do. Have fun with work,” you say. “Bye, Jeongguk!”

“See you later, _____,” Jeongguk says, smiling as he waves.

“Thank you again, Yoongi, Hoseok,” Taehyung says, nodding his head with a smile. “I’m sure I’ll see you guys again soon. Let’s go, Guk.”

“After you.”

Jeongguk steps aside again to let Taehyung walk first, and Taehyung turns on his heels to start walking, only to stop mid-stride. You watch him turn to face the rest of the tables in the cafe with a smile.

“Eunseok.” Your eyes grow wide. Fuck. “Hope everything goes well with your studying, champ. Try not to cheat in the future though. That’s not very cool. Enjoy the rest of your evening, everyone!”

Jeongguk doesn’t even try to hold back his laughter as he holds the door open for Taehyung.

#kim taehyung #v #bts #bangtan #sugar daddy!au #r #anon #the vibe of this song is A+#not sure if this matches it tho oops

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mysticscanlations · 6 years

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That Summer Chapter 139 Summary!

this chapter made me really happy so WE GOING ✈️✈️MANY SCREENSHOTS

Jumi recalls the last time she saw YW, which was on the academy rooftop after they'd both bombed the mock exam. He'd given her a chocolate milk and established a truce, saying they needed to study hard and be successful so that HB's not the only one going to a good college LOL.

YW and Jumi go to a convenience store, buying cup ramen and little snacks. YW feels bad that Jumi's asking for such cheap stuff, but still pays for everything anyways. Cue mini shots of literally every girl within visual distance gawking at YW's beauty. Same.

YW: I was going to buy you something more delicious. -Stay sitting, I'll go pay for this.

YW says that Jumi's gotten a lot prettier, even though she'd always been pretty. Jumi's all like “what who me??” and—after catching another pair of girls staring at YW through the window—notes that YW hasn't changed at all. But internally, Jumi says that after 8 months, it seemed like YW's changed a little. She thinks he looks a lot better, AND GOD BLESS FOR THAT.

AND Y'ALL OUR BOY GOT INTO SEOUL UNIVERSITY'S MEDICAL SCHOOL!!!! YOU HEAR THAT!?!? SEOUL UNIVERSITY'S LITERALLY THE MOST PRESTIGIOUS UNIVERSITY IN SOUTH KOREA CAN I GET AN AMEN!!!!!1!!11

YW says that since he had to repeat a year, he had to study twice as hard to make up for the lost time. Jumi respects that, saying that if that had been her, she would've been satisfied just by getting in and played around LMAO what a mood.

YW didn't get a full scholarship, but he got recommended through an academy teacher to get a teaching position. He's concerned since it seems like the students don't seem to be concentrating lately, and Jumi's wondering if their concentration is the main issue LOOL I love her so much.

YW: Kids, you need to be looking at your book.

After he got into SU, YW went to find his old friends. Shoutout to his character development I shed a tear. Si Won is quaking. When YW went to the pharmacy, CR recognized him at first glance and YW didn't BAHAHA. I feel you, YW, I wouldn't recognize CR either.

CR: Huh? Box: Recognized him Box: After he found out he got accepted into university, he went to go find his friends Box: Didn't recognize him

CR and HK were both really salty that YW went MIA on him so suddenly, and wouldn't accept his apologies no matter what. They all drank that night, and it was also the first time YW got black-out drunk omfg lol. They woke up at CR's house the next morning, and ate ramen for breakfast to treat their hangover. While they ate, YW told them everything about the troubles he was going through at home.

He tells Jumi that his mom got surgery last year, since she wouldn't know. His mom's currently in rehab, and CR/HK came to visit. Jumi asks if his mom's okay now, but YW simply says they've overcome a huge crisis. The surgery thankfully doesn't have big repercussions, but they never know when she might have another recurrence, so they gotta stay on their toes. But he's still relieved that they managed to get through it.

He says that he felt like he'd been stuck in a long tunnel for so long, and only realized how deep and dark it was once he got out. He doesn't want to go back there again, and wants to work hard at living. YOU GO BOY, I'M PROUD OF YOU.

Jumi found it ironic how YW, who was so popular and adored at the academy, was going through such a deep and dark tunnel.

And thank the lord YW finally got a phone again (the latest model too, dang) and asks Jumi to exchange numbers. Jumi agrees, pulling out her phone, and YW notices the stickers on the back of her phone... :'( He gives a little smile, and then...

Jumi: Of course. -Tell me your number too!

ST: Heh

Both of them simultaneously ask how HB's doing. RIP RIP RIP RIP.

They're both shocked, YW especially. He was positive that HB and Jumi were still dating, but Jumi says that HB cut off contact with her ever since the CSAT ended. She doesn't know why he'd do such a thing, and asks if YW has any idea.

YW: I was certain that you two were still dating well—

YW honestly doesn't, apologizing since he thought they were still happily going out. He—like Jumi—had heard that HB had gone to America, but he hasn't contacted HB and HB hasn't contacted him :(

Jumi's kinda sad at that, saying that she thought that maybe HB going MIA had to do with YW, but it doesn't matter anymore. Since 6 months have already passed, she says she's going forget him and see someone else now.

YW still looks thrown off, wondering what the hell HB's doing, and Jumi asks if anything came to mind. YW doesn't answer, looking pretty troubled T__T I’m pretty sure this guy knows he had something to do with this LORD why always got so much drama :(

After some time, YW and Jumi part ways, since YW has an assignment to turn in and has to return to the hospital. Jumi's fine with it, and YW says they should meet up again.

As Jumi walks away, she notes again how amazing of a person YW is. They both started at the same place, but YW seems like he's already found his wings and flown far away. While it felt like she was still tied down by the events of last summer, YW's already changed and those memories have become simple memoirs to him. She's discouraged by that, thinking that maybe they shouldn't have met up at all. NO TO THAT CHILD, I LOVE YOU TWO INTERACTING.

It's another morning, and Jumi's off to get lunch with OS and SH. Jumi's basically third-wheeling, thinking those two should date already while they bicker over food.

Jumi: Just date, already. Right ST: Pollack hates you, too. Left ST: Wow, how childish.

Suddenly, her phone rings with a message. It's YW, asking where she is. And then there he is, in all his beauty, calling to Jumi from in front of her school gates (surrounded by girls smh).

YW: Jumi!

Jumi's flabbergasted, wondering why the heck he's here while he happily high-fives her. He came to see her, and asks her to go somewhere with him. GOD I KNOW MORE DRAMA IS COMING BUT I'M SO HAPPY YW AND JUMI ARE BEING ALL BUDDY BUDDY AGAIN I LOVE THEIR FRIENDSHIP. WE JUST NEED HB BACK NOW THANKS AUTHOR-NIM.

Jumi: W, why are you in front of my school...?! ST: Extremely Flustered YW: To see you, of course! Are you between classes right now?

#mysticscanlations #that summer #that summer webtoon

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kurtty-drabbles · 5 years

Text

SU/Lovecraft( Egypt)

N/A: Oh, boy ever since I saw the PPG episode where they blatantly reference Nyarty, I thought, NOPE, I need to do a drabble with this idea somehow.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling

Elisabeth Braddock saw far too much to not question anything the X-men request by this point, so, when Ororo and Kitty asked, in a private meeting, for a trip to Egypt and Wakanda(that is no longer a secret) the woman didn´t question much, however, as Ororo is explaining the hostile situation between Wakanda and Atlantis Betsy´s eyes travel to Kitty´s cleavage not in a leery sense, but her shirt is covered with buttons and one of them are opening letting the woman see a glimpse of the birthmark and the woman can´t help feeling a bit of discomfort by the birthmark. It is ugly, extremely ugly.

"Betsy!" Ororo screams noticing Betsy´s face and where her eyes are and have white eyes looking at the Braddock in disappointment.

"I´m sorry, I shouldn´t be looking" Betsy tries to explain as she averts her eyes away from Kitty, who in turn, does not seem to care much.

"Is fine, is ok." she sighs " I got this odd birthmark and many got uncomfortable around it, I can´t explain how I got it, but I got it and I don´t mind, but don´t need to gawk at me, is just a birthmark like any other"

"Of course," Betsy said feeling her skin crawl and only subside when Kitty closed all the buttons. The plan is to Ororo go to Wakanda and talk with the leaders as well a representant of Atlantis is there waiting for her and Kitty can´t help by admiring this woman that is so important to the point that two nations cease temporarily their feud to hear her talk.

"Kitten, promise you´ll be careful," Ororo asked once they are arriving in their destination and the woman nods "whatever you may see there it won´t be pretty"

"I know, but, we need more information about him"

________________________________

Ororo arrives in Wakanda, the welcome party was less than ideal as the bodyguard of the king look at her in a mix of distrust and admiration. Namor and T´Challa share different opinions on the mutant named Storm as she asked for an alliance with both countries to defeat a bigger threat.

Shure, the princess, and wearing her black panther uniform, has one emotion at seeing Ororo Monroe again.

"You dare to show your face here? You betray us for your precious X-men and now talk about an alliance" Shuri speaks and half of the council shares her sentiment "and do you really think we would form an alliance with our enemies to fight one of your problems?"

"Shuri, what I did in the past does not matter a moment, the earth is in danger and last time I check Wakanda is part of EARTH as much Atlantis is, this fight of you can wait for another day, this situation cannot," Ororo stated in a regal way and many are deliberating about this.

"What is the name of this foe that even the X-men have a problem with?" Namor asked once again shirtless.

"We don´t dare to say his name, but here we call him the black pharaoh" the name is well known for everyone even Shuri who let go of her grudges against Storm to talk with her brother, now, the situation has changed.

___________________________________

Kitty walks into the city of Cairo and looking for a cult that workship the crawling god is not as much of a daunting task as she thought it would be. The crawling god of chaos may have several different names, but, in the end, it is easy to spot his cult.

However, the cult in itself was not what Kitty was expecting, instead of a scary dungeon with dead bodies, she is in the conference room 222, and instead of death talk and maniacal laughter, all she is listening is a power point presentation with a smiling woman.

(Lovecraft is wrong as Nyarty´s cult is really diverse)

Kitty Pryde is one of the new members and is getting feed up to the power point presentation as the woman(the leader of the taking care of new members and is a true Egyptian woman, named Chione, with dark skin and her assistant is a British woman, named Amy, with a white skin, if Kitty had any humour at the moment, she would laugh at how Lovecraft was wrong)

"Any questions? Amy please, give them the flyers to the new members" Chione suggested and the British woman happily obliges giving the flyers to Kitty and to Jenna, a woman with Aussie accent and with red hair along with green eyes. that likes to mention her travels. Kitty is ignoring the other woman as she raises her hand.

"Yes, Miss Pryde?" Chione asked looking at more papers and Kitty can´t understand his cult.

"Where is the big boss?" the question break the mood as Chione and Amy stop smiling, Kitty is not looking at Jenna, as the woman answer in unison.

"No one can see him nor speak his name, the crawling god appears to the ones that truly deserve it and your fame or money or beauty or much less money will impress the crawling god of chaos" the women answer together and Kitty has to admit that was pretty creepy.

"Do you all know that the big boss wants to destroy the earth?" Kitty asked deadpan.

"Our God will save us if we prove our worth," they said and Kitty shakes her head making more question about his origin and any potential weakness none of those questions makes Kitty gain any favour from the women.

"The Black Pharaoh has no weakness. He is the chaos itself" the women said" the ones who know him more, are in the higher part of the cult and not even us are in there"

"So...you never talk with them?"

"We have lucid dreams, courtesy of him, but, never where graced by his presence" the women have a somewhat sad expression and Kitty narrow her eyes to them and them look at Jenna who is writing on the paper.

"What if I told you he is right here?" Kitty asked and the women look as if Kitty insulted them as her eyes travel to Jenna who stops writing and looks at her with a creepy smile on her face as she starts to laugh at the situation.

"Aww, Katzchen, you really came here to see me?" Jenna said as, with a snap of her fingers, Kitty and Jenna are on the hellish dimension, like the red hair giggles madly. "that´s new, usually people never notice until is too long, how peculiar"

"I can see your face," Kitty said and this makes Jenna stops smiling as she looks at Kitty´s doe eyes narrowing his eyes(she, his mask is a female now) and a dark blue tentacle wrapped Kitty´s waist.

" You can see my face?" Jenna asked as now with her eyes crimson and golden. "Come with me, little human"

"And your cult?" Kitty asked.

"They are not important, not worthy enough, but you...you are." the Jenna smiles maniacally.

"Why?" Kitty said with her crystal blue eyes appearing as her hands have the same glow.

"Because you are the last thing of ...Zaorva" his tentacle touch, oh so gently, her hand, looking at the palm of her hand with a soft expression that Kitty remember from her dream(dream? that was real, but, it is hard to explain what is real and fantasy sometimes) as the tentacle seems to reverence Kitty´s palms with a longing gaze.

"Zaorva?" Kitty asked.

"She dies before marking you, it is because of her that you got this power and her shield," Jenna said.

"But...I never meet this Zaorva, this power is mine and mine alone" Kitty said shaking her head. The mask is now cracking as the human skin is turning yellow. Kitty starts to struggle among the tentacles and one of her buttons are opened and Jenna saw the birthmark and his eyes are locked on the birthmark.

"Hey!" Kitty said as the tentacle let her go.

"That mark....why you have it? Who are you?"

"The birthmark is a birthmark, you are intelligent to know what this means, also, I´m the human who will defend this planet against you" Kitty has the shield ready and for her surprise, Jenna just walk away as she is now on Cairo, on her small hotel room.

#su/lovecraft au #kurt wagner #lovecraft kurt #kitty pryde #ultimate au #ororo is the boss #kurt´s cult is a funny one #and a creepy too #ok her birthmark is a bit creepy but in a way it is based on mine #is not creepy per say but it is on my knee and i don´t mind so i can see kitty not minding the birthmark

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centeris2 · 6 years

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A Kiliel story set in modern day Alaska. Whether on land or at the bottom of the ocean, the sea always calls us home.

Read the first chapter here: Chapter 1: Whoever thought this was a good idea was terribly foolish

Normally when Kili lost a bet it meant he had to do something ridiculous like eat a raw fish head or work on deck in a tutu and tiara. Normally when his friends talked him into doing something incredibly stupid it involved lots of alcohol and possibly weapons. One time it involved trying to race to the top of the fishing boat while eating a raw fish head with only the left side of their bodies. No one won that competition, or that time they decided they were going to decorate Christmas trees in the middle of an empty parking lot near the docks and then tried to Molotov cocktail them. Turned out it was really hard to light trees on fire when it was the middle of an Alaskan blizzard.

Granted these were all very dumb and dangerous things none of them came close to actually dying. Well, working in the fishing and crabbing industries could be quite dangerous and had killed people before, but he had never been trapped to drown under hundreds of feet of water. This was the situation he now found himself in with some of his friends and an adventurous team of scientists who wanted to explore the bottom of the ocean.

Kili had spent his life on the water, joining his uncle with his brother at a young age to learn the art of fishing in Alaskan waters. When his mother made him and Fili stay home from a trip out to sea he learned other practical skills on land; family friends in the neighboring Alaskan region were more than willing to teach metal and wood working to them and the mechanical things they learned made Fili and Kili both well equipped to handle engine troubles on the massive ships they worked on. While it was their ambition to one day have their own ships, for now the brothers were perfectly happy sailing with their uncle, Thorin. Decades at sea made him an expert fisherman, and while Fili and Kili were still young and inexperienced, he knew that one day his nephews would be worthy and capable of inheriting his prized crabbing vessel: The Lonely Mountain. Nicknamed “The King’s Jewel” by other experienced captains, she held a long history of successful runs that made all the crewmembers quite rich at the end of every season.

But Fili would carry on the Durinson family name without him Kili thought to himself as he leaned his head against the metal wall of the submarine his was in. He heard large creatures moving around the ship he was trapped in, odd clicks and calls that didn’t sound like anything he knew.

He was here because of two of his friends, Bran and Collin, who had met a couple of marine biologists at a bar and after a few drinks had agreed to join them. Or maybe they were marine geologists. Geographers? Something damned that involved going to the bottom of the ocean looking for things they shouldn’t be looking for. Something about a shipwreck or something that would make them all rich and famous that sounded appealing at one point, but no longer.

Kili looked out the small window and saw nothing in the darkness of the ocean depths except for odd glowing lights. The lights flashed and moved in the water, pale bioluminescent light that was attached to whatever sea monster was trying to kill them. They had lost propulsion and power over 20 minutes ago and had been sinking ever since. Whatever was out there continued to hit the sub and sometimes there were terrible grating sounds like something running claws over the outside of their tiny pocket of air and warmth.

“You owe me a grand.” Kili didn’t look at Collin, watching the lights that were probably his doom out in the water. Bran snorted and Kili heard a punch behind him.

“I bet that we would find something, and we found something!” Bran protested, not interested in losing a thousand dollars.

“Something found us,” Kili said softly before he turned ever so slightly to look at his friends in the emergency lighting.

“I think we all lost,” he said after meeting their gazes in the red glow. With that solemn statement he looked back out the window. At first they had fought, tried to get free of what they thought was a pod of whales that appeared from nowhere. But then the slamming started; whales don’t start ramming into submarines for fun. Sharks don’t either, but whatever was out there had slammed into them until they began spinning and damaged their engines. It was a miracle that whatever it was hadn’t punctured the hull and drowned them all immediately, but it was pulling them down deeper where the pressure would surely kill them. He had already tried to fix the power and the engines but the damage was outside; there was nothing he could do from inside this sinking tin can.

The lights outside were multiple creatures, he could tell that much from how they moved independently of each other. Whatever they were, they were long and slender with dots of light going down their bodies. Or maybe it was lighted tentacles of some hell spawn squid. Kili put his hand up to the glass, looking at his death, and gave a sigh.

And then he yelped in surprise when he saw a face on the other side of the glass.

“The fuck?” Collin asked, looking.

“Didn’t you see? It was a face, there was a person out there!” Kili exclaimed as he pushed his face up to the window to see better. But the face was gone.

“Oh great, sirens are going to kill us? Should I plug my ears?” Bran scoffed, his normal humor somehow intact. Maybe he was just imagining things, but he thought he had seen the face move to the right…

“Where are you going?” Collin called to Kili as he moved down to the next porthole.

“The sea witch cast her spell, and he’s in love with her!” Bran declared. Kili said nothing, staring out the next window into the swirling lights and darkness.

“Actually, Bran, I… have something to tell you…” Collin said sheepishly. Kili gave them a glance, wondering what had come up, but Collin nodded toward an empty room and Bran followed him while asking what was up.

When Kili looked back out the window there was a hand on it. This time he didn’t shout, instead staring in curious wonder at the five-digit hand. It was webbed and looked like it was covered in hard scales and it had long spikes for finger nails. But it still looked like a human hand. That couldn’t possibly be right.

Kili reached out and touched the glass, his hand matching the one on the outside, and was startled when the face reappeared.

It looked human, the red from the light within the submarine casted it in a hellish glow, a woman’s face with thick hair swirling around her. There were lights on her face, little dots of light that lined her bone structure.

It tilted its head to the side, looking at him, its large eyes staring right at him as though he were a bug in a jar to gawk at. Although perhaps, to it, that’s exactly what he was. But he was doing his share of staring right back, mesmerized by the face on the other side of the glass. Something startled her and made her swim away, and whatever that something was hit the side of the submarine with enough force to spin it again, causing Kili to slam back into the wall behind him.

He passed out on the floor, spinning with the submarine as it flipped in the water.

---

Coughing. Coughing and gasping for breath and terrible pain in his head and salt in his mouth and he was alive.

Holy shit.

He was alive.

Kili’s eyes shot open as he rolled over, coughing and feeling dizzy and trying to see in the darkness. What was below him was water and rock, smooth stone with a few inches of water rippled over it. In the water appeared to be bits of light, and as his eyes adjusted he looked around the cave he was in. It was covered in some sort of bioluminescent algae. There appeared to be no way out, the lights formed a uniform dome around him, but he felt too sick to stand up and try to figure out how much space there was. His eyes continued to adjust to the point where he could see his hands, albeit not very well, but when he tried to get up it resulted in making the headache even worse.

He didn’t know how long he was in the strange cave alone, but after what felt like hours he managed to sit up so he was no longer lying down in the cold water. He sat in the water, shivering and numb. Why was he alive? How had he gotten here? Were the others still alive? The pounding in his head was something for him to focus on so he wouldn’t worry about how numb he was; it was something to keep awake and alive. He was in pain but as long as his head still hurt then he was still alive. And still being alive meant being able to escape and survive. Somehow.

The water rippled and he felt something disturb the water to his left. He felt sluggish as he turned his head, knowing that he was well on his way to having a serious case of hypothermia. In the water were lights; it was one of the things that had been circling them. But now he was able to properly see it as it swam toward him.

The thing was long, maybe even ten or twelve feet long, with what he thought was a dark grey color to its scales. But the tendrils, or maybe it was hair, he could guess were a dark red color. The tail it had was vertical, indicating that it wasn’t a mammal but a fish of some sort. A fish with human like arms and hands and face, right, because that made sense.

Clearly he was still really drunk and he was going to wake up and this would all be over soon.

He recognized the face was the one he had seen before, but it no longer looked like a face from hell as the light on it was no longer red. Its face was pale, practically white, and definitely looked like a woman’s face. Except for the fact that it glowed with bioluminescent light. It looked up at him from just beneath the surface of the water, watching him inquisitively. It made the last swish of its tail and extended its arms, pulling itself out of the water and onto the barely submerged rock next to him. But it didn’t touch him, instead getting extremely close to him, as though it wanted to be touching him but couldn’t do it. It opened its mouth, revealing pointed teeth, and clicked at him. If Kili had to venture a guess it was trying to say something, but all he could do was shiver and rub his arms with his hands to try to keep warm. It crawled around him, circling him when he said nothing to it, and then became transfixed on the air coming out of his mouth in condensed puffs. It gently extended one of its hands to try to touch the breath as it came out of his mouth and pulled back its hand when it felt the heat but could not touch it. It tilted its head to the side again, looking at his face, and clicked again. When Kili remained silent it rolled off the rock and into the water, disappearing from sight.

What surprised Kili was when the same creature appeared again, this time with something in its arms. It offered a mass of… something to him, looking at him expectantly.

“Don’t… understand.” Kili managed to say through chattering teeth and a foggy mind. It seemed startled that Kili was able to make sound, perhaps it had thought that the shivering and his clattering teeth were his way of talking. But it seemed to get the idea as it dropped the load next to Kili, pulling itself up around him again.

“Hey-! What-?“ Kili managed, trying to move away from the thing as it tried to put whatever it was on him. The creature just curled tighter around him so there was nowhere to go, and began to cover him in what felt like thickly woven seaweed. It was cold, clammy, slimy, and made him shiver even more.

“Stop … freezing…” Kili tried to say as he started to lose his vision and awareness. For a few moments he felt himself going completely numb and was only vaguely aware that something was rubbing his arms, legs, chest, back, and head.

When Kili opened his eyes again he was looking up at the face of the creature, he felt the now warmed seaweed blanket wrapped around him and the fish’s body coiled tight around him like an eel. He didn’t feel as cold anymore and he realized that the hands he had felt earlier weren’t his friends trying to wake him up from being passed out, it was the thing trying to keep him warm. Why would it do that?

“Thanks.” He managed, not sure if he should move or if he was now the thing’s favorite toy. It tilted its head, perhaps pleased that he was now once more conscious, and uncurled from him and jumped back into the water.

“Wait!” but of course he was calling to ripples, the thing was already gone.

It only left him alone for a few minutes, however, before it returned with a fish in its mouth. Its arms held it propped up on the ledge of the rock, but it extended its neck and dropped the dead fish in front of Kili. It looked pointedly down at the fish and then back up to him.

“I can’t eat that,” in response the thing picked up the fish and took a bite of it before offering it back to Kili, this time holding it in its hand. Kili shook his head.

“I can’t eat that,” he said again, slower, as though that would make it understand. It dropped the fish and grabbed for the blanket it had given him, making Kili jerk back in fear.

“No! I need this!” Kili shouted, but the things claws already had its nails in the seaweed and it tore a small section free. It then took a bite of the seaweed before it offered it to Kili, apparently unfazed by Kili’s alarm and violent jerking. Kili sighed, realizing this thing was going to keep bringing him things to eat until he did so. Bracing himself he took the strip of seaweed from its offered hand and took a bite. While it was slimy and salty it was also warm, and even though he wanted to gag he was also freezing and hungry. It seemed satisfied that he was eating based on its long tail flexing out of the water.

“Thank you,” Kili said after he had choked down the seaweed. It blinked at him, staring at his lips as he said it. Then it extended a hand, touching his lips and throat, its hands getting tangled in his beard.

“Uhh…” Kili glanced around but it looked up at his eyes and then back at his lips as if waiting for something.

“What do you want?” Kili asked. It splashed its tail and got up out of the water, curling around him and facing him all the while looking at his lips.

“Can you stop?” when Kili tried to back away its hand followed and Kili watched when it raised its other hand to its own mouth and throat. It clicked again.

“Can you speak?” he asked it. Its tail flicked, slapping the water.

“Kkkhee,” it said, or tried to say.

“You can speak?”

“Seeeehhkkee? Keeeh?” at its second attempt it got angry, jumping back into the water. It swam around the rock he was on a few times, making more sounds that he could not understand through the water. It finally stopped in front of him, keeping its neck in the water but its face out and looking at him. He noticed its hand was still on its throat.

“Do you have a name?” Kili asked, not expecting it to be able to say anything.

“Aaaaym?”

“A name. Nnn. Name,” he said slower, leaning down and emphasizing how he was pronouncing the word. It started at his mouth, watching the way his tongue moved.

“Naaame.”

“Yes! Name. My name is Kili. Kili,” he said his name the second time slowly, pointing to himself.

“Keeeleee?” it questioned, trying to understand him. He nodded and smiled before he pointed at himself again.

“Yes. Kili.”

“Kili,” it said, pointing at him. At that Kili pointed at the creature and wondered if it would understand.

“Tarrr-“ it began before it stopped and slapped the water with its tail.

“Taarrrel,” it hissed and splashed, trying to say its name to him so that he could understand. After several more attempts and laps around him clicking to itself it finally managed to say:

“Tauriel.”

“Tauriel?” Kili said slowly. It splashed the water, rose up out of it, and pointed to itself. It seemed pleased that it had been able to convey its name. Then it sank back into the water to the level it knew it could communicate with him. It seemed to be dissatisfied trying to speak with its gills out of the water but he couldn’t understand it when it was completely underwater. But it smiled up at him, or at least tried to. It looked like it was baring his teeth at him. The attempt made him laugh and smile again. It tilted its head at the sound and tried to smile again. The second attempt at smiling was much better.

“So mermaids are real?” Kili asked. It tilted its head and its smile faded as it grew confused. But Kili didn’t expect it to answer him anyway.

“Never thought you were real, and now I get to meet one before I die,” he looked up at the ceiling of the cave, dotted with light.

“Reminds me of stars,” he began to ramble, and Tauriel pulled itself up next to him and looked at the ceiling.

“It will be summer soon, you wouldn’t be able to see the stars for a while because of the midnight sun. Mom always liked that Fili and I wouldn’t be able to sneak out of the house in the dark of night since there was no night,” at that thought he reached into a pocket and pulled out the stone his mother had given him as promise he had made to return home. Tauriel looked with interest at the rock but didn’t touch it.

“My mother gave me this, she thought it would protect me, bring me home when I went out to sea. Looks like I won’t be going home…”

“Home?” Tauriel said the word slowly.

“Where I live, on the surface,” he pointed up but didn’t know how to explain it to the mermaid.

“Tauriel,” he said, sticking his hand into the water and motioning toward it.

“Tauriel’s home,” he said for emphasis before he lifted his hand out of the water and pointed up.

“Kili’s home,” it followed his hand motions and seemed to understand.

“My home is up there, on land, on the surface. But I can’t go home. It’s impossible,” he said, his gaze upward.

“Wait- STOP! NO-“ Kili screamed as he was suddenly drug under by Tauriel. The water was freezing and knocked the air right out of him. Its arm was strong around his chest but he thrashed and kicked it away. He broke through the surface and scrambled up on the rock, freezing cold once again.

“Kili! Home!” Tauriel called to him, pointing down into the water and then motioning upwards. Apparently it had tried to take him out of the hole it was using to enter this cave. Kili shook his head as the intense shivering returned.

“I can’t go that way! I’ll drown! I’ll die!” he shouted back to it as he coughed up water he had inhaled. Tauriel seemed upset by his distress and quickly pulled itself next to him and covered him in the seaweed once more. Kili did not lose conscious as Tauriel made quick work rubbing heat back into him and the seaweed blanket. That did not keep his breath from becoming labored as the headache got worse and he did not fight when Tauriel curled its body around him. This time he was able to feel its heart beating through its green gray chest, and he realized he could feel something under the mat of red hair. Was Tauriel a female? Why would a fish have breasts? But then Tauriel was humming, emitting a low pulse and a repeating series of clicks. Was that a siren song? Whatever it was, the sound accompanied by the warmth Tauriel had rubbed into him was making him drowsy. As much as he tried he couldn’t help but fall asleep in the mermaid’s arms, lulled to sleep by the humming in its chest.

#tauriel #kili #kiliel #the hobbit #fanfiction #my writing #my work #also in progress will hopefully update it soon

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nancydhooper · 6 years

Text

Kenneth Eng Is On The Other Side of Viral Now

Kenneth Eng is on the other side of viral now, where it's hard to see him.

11 years ago, in 2007, it was easy to see him. He achieved a brief burst of viral infamy for writing a column titled "Why I Hate Blacks," inexplicably published by the now-defunct AsianWeek. He had every quality we require for online notoriety: he did something we feel good about hating, his response to criticism was unrepentant and odd (he defended his column and declared himself an "Asian Supremacist"), and a little digging into his background revealed things we could easily mock, like his authorship of really awful science fiction:

[The Darkaeon] slashes the Universe with a blade of dark flame.

UNIVERSE: AAAAHHH!!

He experienced — and perhaps enjoyed — widespread condemnation and ridicule in blogs and forums, and on sites like Wired and Gawker. A few months later, he enjoyed a short resurgence of infamy when he was arrested for bizarre threats, making the pages of the New York Post and the Village Voice. Then, like a uninspired meme, he slipped from our consciousness, making room for the next freak-of-the-week and the next and the next after that.

Where do people like Kenneth Eng come from, and where do they go after their virality pops like a soap bubble? Surely they differ. But Kenneth Eng came from mental illness, to which he returned. How many other people we gawk at are like him?

The cover of Kenneth Eng's book.

Kenneth Eng's journey to fame and back takes on a very different tone when you start at the beginning rather than in the middle.

Eng is schizophrenic. This is how his lawyer described it in 2008, seeking a probationary sentence on federal threat charges:

Mr. Eng suffers from schizophrenia, a severe, lifelong disorder. He takes an anti-psychotic, with strong side-effects. Yet, with a somewhat grim prognosis for a lifelong affliction, the report notes Mr. Eng is making fair progress on treatment goals. The fact that he is making progress bodes well for him.

Counsel has noted a remarkable softening of Mr. Eng’s affect since he entered the treatment environment. Conversations with him are rather pleasant.

His severe mental illness was well-known years before his brush with modern fame. In 2003, he enraged and terrified fellow students, professors, and administrators at NYU, where he studied film. We know this because he attached much of the NYU email correspondence to his 2014 pro se federal civil rights complaint against everyone he could remember from NYU ten years before. Eng's version of events is not particularly exculpatory: he claims he was mistreated for refusing to work with "Negroes," for using racial epithets, and for proclaiming that he worships Hitler. He also claims to be the victim of anti-Asian racism, but his complaint is full of patently paranoid, bizarre conclusions, and hints at how terrifying he could be to others:

For the past 3769 days, I have wondered about what it would feel like to exact my revenge on this cowardly woman. I will never recover from the damage she and her ethnic group have inflicted on me, and the pain I feel every day because of cravens like her.

The NYU emails he attaches suggest what it was like for the people around him. "I want to go on record that keeping Kenneth could have serious repercussions," wrote one administrator. "It is my belief that Kenneth poses a real threat to the [NYU] community and has the capacity to harm or kill someone," said another. One professor told of getting an insulting, threatening call at home from Eng; another told of two students "so terrified" that they locked the classroom door after Eng left after a heated dispute. This was not always the case: one professor found him "intelligent, creative, talented, and fun to have as part of our class." But expressions of concern soon outweighed these positive reports. Eng was erratic, confrontational, sometimes incoherent, floridly racist, threatening, and generally a nightmare to those around him.

In 2004, after a confrontation in a NYU counseling session, the NYPD detained him and transported him to Bellevue Hospital, forcibly medicated him, and confined him for two weeks. We know this because in 2006 he convinced attorneys to file a civil rights lawsuit on his behalf against New York authorities. Eng dropped the suit based on an undisclosed settlement in 2007. That is the last time, as far as I can tell, that lawyers sued on his behalf; his many subsequent lawsuits are all pro se. But it was not the only time he was confined at Bellevue; he was committed again in 2009. He complains of that confinement in a 2014 pro se civil rights complaint replete with assertions that he was mistreated because he is Asian, because of his racial views, and because he was confined with African-Americans.

A wired article on Eng, typical of the tone of coverage of him.

We all knew perfectly well in 2007 that Kenneth Eng was crazy. But we pointed and laughed anyway.

I knew. I had no excuse not to know. Looking back at forum comments (it was before the time of this now-venerable blog), I see that I referred to him as crazy. That did not leaven my ridicule.

Eng, who was clearly not successfully treated by Bellevue, somehow won a columnist position with AsianWeek. This is consistent with the accounts of many who said he could be brilliant, articulate, and dedicated. He wrote his loathsome and bigoted column, and the paper made the inexcusable decision to publish it. Spectacle followed. Eng doubled down again and again, affirming his racism and proclaiming himself an "Asian supremacist." Journalists and bloggers gleefully dug up his science fiction and his imperious communications promoting it.

The coverage does not age well in light of what we know about Eng's schizophrenia. We knew that he was crazy, but only envisioned him as crazy in an entertaining way. "Deep Inside Kenneth Eng's Brain With His Unfinished Screenplay," teased Wired, promising an "obscure literary treat," and mocking his writing at length. The same author collected what she called "gossip" from NYU and confessed herself "fascinated" with Eng's "bizarre career," concluding "Yup, Eng truly is 'God.' Too bad he gets called names when he leaves the house once a month. Now you too can read his work." Eng later harassed the author, who penned a follow-up telling him he should "chill out." Gawker called him a "wacky Asian racist" in a column detailing his second arrest for bizarre threats. Gawker — which had a Kenneth Eng tag — maintained that tone throughout 2007. "Remember Kenneth Eng of 'Why I Hate Blacks' fame? He sure hopes you do" chortled Gawker when Eng gave an interview saying he thought and hoped he had inspired the massacre at Virginia Tech.

Fox News invited Eng on television to explain himself. The resulting interview is, in retrospect, sick and excruciating.

A few months later, Eng hit the news again when Village Voice published an interview in which he celebrated the Virginia Tech massacre and, decrying racism against Asians, proclaimed he would have done the same thing at NYU if he could have afforded a gun. The Village Voice's tone is no longer quite so jolly, but still strikes me as oddly detached. Eng got more publicity when he was arrested, prosecuted, and sentenced to therapy for threatening a neighboring family with a hammer. This news did not notably change the tone of coverage of Eng. Angry Asian Man (which, as a parent of Asian-American kids, I find to be an indispensable source of information about Asian-American struggles with racism, culture, and advocacy) reported on Eng's new legal troubles rather lightly, referring to him as "everyone's favorite "Asian Supremacist'" "the dragon master," and "krazy-ass Kenny."

But someone was genuinely concerned about Eng's deterioration — his family, and oddly, the federal criminal justice system.

The caption to the federal criminal complaint against Eng.

"Kenneth Eng Threatened A 'White Pussy' With Violence," the Village Voice leered when federal officials took him into custody after his state conviction. The feds — through the United States Attorney's Office for the Southern District of New York — prosecuted Eng for an incident years before during his troubles at NYU. The affidavit in support of the federal criminal complaint tells the tale: in 2004 Eng got into a confrontation with another student at NYU who objected to Eng derisively calling another classmate a "Negro," Eng spat in the classmate's face and called him a "white pussy," and in 2005 Eng called the classmate and jeered at him "remember me? I'm the one who spit at you." This call formed the basis of a felony charge of threats through interstate communication.

Two things are clear from the complaint. First, the feds were deeply concerned about Eng. The phone call is an extremely marginal basis for a charge, as they would soon see. And the complaint has information about Eng's Virginia Tech rant, even though that happened years after the charged offense. In looking at the record, it's clear that the feds, Eng's parents, Eng's lawyers, Eng's doctors, and an extremely cooperative federal court were using the prosecution as an instrument to compel Eng to submit to ongoing treatment. Eng's parents had the resources to post a $500,000 bail in one of his state cases and to hire a series of lawyers and psychiatrists, and the government's resources, of course, are formidable. The record reveals six years of everyone involved going to extraordinary lengths to make Eng get treatment, to deal with his relapses and outbursts, and to help him.

But it was not enough.

The first problem, oddly, was legal. Eng fairly rapidly agreed to plead guilty to the charge in exchange for five years probation. But the court, after very thoughtful analysis, rejected the plea, finding that it lacked a factual basis because the mocking call was not a "true threat" and therefore not a violation of the statute. True threats, as Popehat readers know, are threats that are intended, and reasonably interpreted, to be expressions of genuine intent to do harm. Here, Eng called his victim and made fun of him for having previously spit on him. The judge decided, not unreasonably, that nothing about that was a threat of future harm.

At this point, in a standard scenario, the government would have appealed the determination or the defense would have tried to convince the government or the court to dismiss the charges. This was not a standard scenario. Eng eventually agreed to plead guilty to a misdemeanor charge of interfering with someone's right to education through intimidation. The goal remained the same — his family, his lawyers, his doctors, and the government wanted him to get a sentence of probation with mandatory treatment. When the probation office recommended jail time, the government argued vociferously against it, supported by Eng's own lawyer's bleak assessment of his illness. Let me assure you as a federal criminal defense attorney that this is not a typical course of events.

Eng got his probation and his mandatory treatment. But the next five years were fraught with the sort of repeated problems we should expect with an intractable mental illness. Eng fell in and out of treatment, he was repeatedly cited for probation violations. He was arrested and prosecuted by New York authorities for harassment and stalking, which led to more federal probation violations. The attorneys, doctors, and the judge made extraordinary efforts to avoid prolonged incarceration and to continue treatment — the judge held multiple hearings with physician testimony.

Everyone did everything they could.

It was not enough. In wealthiest country in the history of the world, a country with the power of an angry god, with weight of doting affluent parents and lawyers and doctors and an utterly out-of-character criminal justice system, it was not enough. This is, perhaps, the most grim part of the story, grimmer even than our indifference and casual cruelty. If Kenneth Eng can't be helped successfully, what's the hope for the millions out there in worse circumstances, some of them potentially violent? Kenneth Eng didn't slip through the cracks. He got support that, if you described it in a story, I would dismiss as fanciful. What about people without those resources and without that support?

Kenneth Eng's federal probation ended in 2013. We can trace his life for a while thereafter through his campaign of federal lawsuits. He filed two dozen, all pro se, in 2013 and 2014 in federal court in New York. He sued people for posting his books online, and he sued people for using ideas he claimed he invented, like space dragons or the character name "Terrordactyl" and the concept of a sentient universe. It would be easy to laugh at them, as we often laugh at crazy lawsuits, as we laughed at his bizarre racist rants. You'd need a heart of stone not to laugh at Eng v. Philosoraptor. He did, in fact, get a little coverage of these intellectual property suits. There was no coverage of his other suits — the ones claiming racial discrimination, the ones claiming he was discriminated against because he was a racist, the ones engaging in virulent racism and using racial epithets, the ones relitigating his treatment at NYU and Bellevue and Rikers. His vexatious litigation reveals bits of his out-of-court life in 2014. The suits describe his unsuccessful efforts to maintain work in the face of his inability to interact with others, his public confrontations, his repeated brushes with law enforcement, his subsistence on disability and unemployment payments. The quality of his filings steadily degraded, varying from meritless but coherent and neatly typed copyright claims to enraged, barely legible scrawls incorporating racial epithets into the case captions. Courts dismissed all of the suits, usually by refusing to let him file them without filing fees.

When I was a prosecutor, we used to get lawsuits and motions from prisoners. They stank of cigarette smoke, a stink that penetrated the plain manila envelopes containing them. Eng's lawsuits stink of untreated madness. I might ordinarily mock them. I've mocked ones like them before. It's harder after reading about who he was, who he is.

Towards the end of 2014, with the last of his lawsuits dismissed, Kenneth Eng dropped from sight. I can't find more references to him. I do not have the heart to go beyond the web and research whether he is confined, whether he continues to relapse without notice, whether he's even alive. Maybe he's even better. Maybe.

Why are we the way we are? Is Kenneth Eng a schizophrenic whose illness finds expression through florid racism? Or is he a racist asshole who is also schizophrenic? It makes little difference to the people he abused or threatened or assaulted, the people terrified that he would go on a violent spree, or the people repulsed to see the seemingly mainstream AsianWeek publish his racist screed. It is right and fit that we should support those people and acknowledge how they felt, whatever Eng's motives were. It is appropriate to protect them. But how should we treat Kenneth Eng? Not, I think, with carefree laughter.

Kenneth Eng is on the other side of viral now, and it's hard to see him there. But we can still see ourselves, and the view is not always pleasant.

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