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incendir · 7 years

Text

i will follow you to the end

a second son and a beta shouldn’t have ambitions, but woohyun does.

he is sent to the academy and sectioned off to become a soldier because, as a second son, the only way he can earn a position in court is to rise through the ranks of the military. he is marked off as nothing special at all, and placed into a training squadron with another second son, and a weak first son.

howon is the middle child of his family, but he is an alpha. sungyeol, by the headmaster and teachers, is considered weak, but he is still the firstborn alpha of his family. both of them have the advantages and justifications woohyun doesn’t, but he doesn’t quite seem to see all of this through the same eyes as everyone else does when they shake their heads and sigh at him.

each son who has a father or brother in the court is sent to the headmaster’s office one by one to be spoken to individually. howon leaves the door open for woohyun on his way out, the alpha still running searching eyes up and down woohyun - they’ve only spent a night in their new dormitories together, and neither alpha has spoken much to woohyun yet, both settling for thoroughly judging him every time they see him.

he’s perfectly fine with this for now - no one is sent to the academy to socialize after all.

the headmaster greets woohyun warmly, asking about his older brother’s studies and how his father fares in court. woohyun answers every question cheerily, filling the conversation with jests that don’t encroach on any seniority, and the headmaster is roaring with laughter throughout in minutes.

“i know you are a hard worker,” the headmaster says most probably in what he believes is a reassuring tone, as woohyun stands and bows, preparing to leave. “you will easily finish your training and we will certainly grant you a good, secure post somewhere in one of the nearby towns - perhaps a magistrate position will suit you.”

woohyun smiles peacefully. “of course.”

ii.

each squadron of soldiers-in-training is assigned a lieutenant trainer. all students receive their academic training from the literati the court sends, but the physical training as well as discipline is given out by each respective squadron trainers. the initial way the system is described had had woohyun believing that there would be some level of objectivity to it at all when, in fact, there was absolutely none.

the trainers are, essentially, minders. they are quite literally nursemaids but rather than a gentle reproach every time one of them steps out of line, they either receive lashes, are sent to their dormitories without meals, some combination of both, or are assigned to some form of cleaning duty for the next month. however, just as there are a broad spectrum of nursemaids due simply to how each person does such a subjective job so differently, the range of trainers and their training methods spans anywhere from the strictness of an actual military general to a mild schoolteacher.

every trainer is only a lieutenant but kim sunggyu might as well already be a general of the king’s entire army as far as woohyun, howon, and sungyeol are concerned.

all three of them are sent to their classes forbidden from all meals on the first day for being a minute late to the meeting point. woohyun is sore from head to toe the entire first week, not even from any of the actual physical training but from all the punishments he is given for not wearing his robes correctly, for replying without addressing sunggyu correctly, for not properly memorizing field rules, for misquoting a poet, and everything in between.

sunggyu’s strictness becomes widely known throughout the students in a matter of a month, and if woohyun, howon, and sungyeol were not close before, the growing frustration and unfairness they felt from both sunggyu and the pitying gazes of their classmates for having the misfortune of being assigned the most intolerant trainer brought them together like brothers.

two nights before the first round of examinations, their discontent finally explodes into outrage, set off by sunggyu slapping sungyeol’s head with the side of his trainer’s stick because sungyeol fumbled around the pronunciation of an old proverb. sunggyu has been testing them for practice in the common area of the dormitory late into the night for the past two weeks - they are only allowed to sleep when all three of them can run through the sets sunggyu has chosen for that night, meaning that the candles are always burned out by the time they are finally let into their bedrooms.

howon yanks the stick out of sunggyu’s hand and throws it to the floor at the same time that woohyun says, low and angry, “what right does a merchant’s son have to raise his hand against a war hero’s firstborn?”

there is an infinitesimal moment where shock covers sunggyu’s face, most probably at the fact that they know - rumors, after all, have a way of bearing some semblance to the truth, and woohyun’s ears are open to everything even though none of the other students usually care to share gossip with their squadron. that moment is gone in less than a second, however, and then sunggyu’s expression is simply as controlled and steady as it was before.

woohyun is ready for any coming punishment - for whatever sunggyu has to say. he doesn’t expect for the next movement in the room to be sungyeol slamming past him and howon towards the doors that lead outside into the courtyard. “i don’t need either of you defending me,” is all sungyeol says when he tears his shoulder out of howon’s grasp, and runs out.

woohyun doesn’t know how long he and howon stare after their friend, but the silence is interrupted by sunggyu’s footsteps as he suddenly brushes in between woohyun and howon, walking out as well after sungyeol.

iii.

woohyun places first in the examinations in every subject. howon places second. sungyeol, disbelieving until woohyun and howon steer him to the rankings written on the scroll hanging from the wall itself, places third.

sungyeol tells them then, on the way back to the dormitories as all students are given their first personal day upon the release of the results, sunggyu had followed after him that night - he’d apologized for hitting sungyeol, but he hadn’t apologized for berating him over his habitual mispronunciation. he had sat with sungyeol in the courtyard through the night until sungyeol had finally recited the proverbs without a single twist of his tongue.

the lieutenant isn’t there when they return from the mess hall after lunch. woohyun doesn’t know about howon and sungyeol, but the beta hadn’t expected their trainer to be there today. the students are given a personal day, and thus, so are the trainers, and while a few trainers who are close with their squadrons are taking them out into the town, sunggyu clearly would prefer to have the personal day tending to his own affairs.

woohyun is about to suggest they go into town themselves and find some sweets stalls to put out of business when howon narrows his eyes towards the table in the common area, crossing over to it. woohyun himself hadn’t even noticed, but there is a small scroll and a sizable tied sack sitting there that hadn’t been there when they’d left this morning.

howon opens the scroll, eyes moving back and forth as he reads it quickly. his expression morphs from confusion to something that woohyun would call almost pinched and apologetic. “what is it?” sungyeol asks.

howon hands it over to sungyeol, and woohyun hooks his chin on sungyeol’s shoulder, reading along with him.

the trainers receive the results before they are made public. thus, i discovered last night the fruits of your perseverance. it isn’t much, but these are tokens of my pride for your accomplishments. enjoy today and tonight, and i will see you in the morning.

howon opens the sack and within it are three parcels wrapped in silk and tied with a thick piece of thread. there is a blue one, a violet one, and a green one. howon snatches the violet one immediately and both sungyeol and woohyun roll their eyes as they take the blue and the green respectively each.

woohyun unties the thread and lets the silk fall into his other hand.

they are daggers.

beautifully crafted, sharp and sturdy yet lightweight, woohyun observes as he unsheathes his.

“well,” woohyun says with a smile that feels strange on his face, “who else feels rather terrible?”

“oh, absolutely,” howon says briskly.

“the tutor my father himself hired from the king’s court was not able to teach me so well,” sungyeol says quietly, staring at the weapon in his hands.

they stand there, unsure of what to do - not truly feeling like celebrating anymore - for some time, until woohyun has had enough of wishing he could change some things that had happened and announces that they are going to get fat off of sweets and meat tonight.

they end up spending the entire night eating and playing games out in the town, joining other groups of students enjoying themselves. woohyun knows he isn’t the only one hoping that they would run into sunggyu at some point during the evening, but they never see him regardless of how small the town is. they don’t return until the sky is no longer pitch black, but rather beginning to turn into a dark blue.

naturally - all three of them are late to the usual meeting point at the large tree in front of the dormitory.

when sunggyu points to the ground with his stick, all of them prostrate themselves without a noise of complaint. woohyun actually feels the corners of his mouth tugging upward, and when he meets howon and sungyeol’s gazes, they too, for smile back at him. “no breakfast, lunch, dinner, or supper,” sunggyu says, the surface tone of his voice as flat as always, but underneath, there’s something almost like warmth - almost affection - and woohyun can hear the returning fondness in his, howon, and sungyeol’s own voices when they reply.

“yes, sir.”

iv.

woohyun is the smartest student in the entire class, and he is second only to howon in regards to their physical training. his family is important, but there are many more families of higher status with their sons in woohyun’s class, and he knows that the teachers and those sons are not happy with how well woohyun is doing and how far he is upstaging all of them. moreover, nearly all of these sons are alphas, and some of them are even in the same position as sungyeol - they are firstborns from military families and woohyun is succeeding against them as a beta.

sunggyu asks him to stay behind in the common area one night after the trainer is done revising their material with them for the evening. this is the first time woohyun has been alone with the lieutenant. he watches sunggyu close some of the books on the table, shuffling closer with his knees against the cushion. he’s only struck now, strangely, with the realization that sunggyu can’t be all that much older than woohyun is.

“the headmaster is not quite aware because he is a progressive man, so the teachers know he would not care either way,” sunggyu begins slowly, and woohyun instantly knows what this is about when their gazes meet. “they have spoken to me, however, about how you are scoring much higher than - than the sons of certain families who have large expectations and names.”

“i will make an educated guess then that they have told you, as my trainer, to ask that i lessen my accomplishments for my desperate peers and their parents?” woohyun raises his eyebrows with an almost bitter smile.

“they have,” sunggyu responds simply, expression indecipherable.

woohyun looks back at sunggyu levelly. “you, they, the timing of my birth, what i was born as - i will not restrain my capabilities for anyone or anything.”

sunggyu’s gaze doesn’t change. “did i ask you to?”

woohyun stares, feeling his eyes widen, his mouth open slightly as sunggyu smiles. he wonders if, that night that sunggyu had gone after sungyeol, if sunggyu had smiled then because woohyun surely knows that he has never seen the lieutenant smile in front of all three of them together. he wonders if howon has ever seen sunggyu smile.

the trainer’s eyes disappear completely when his cheeks are pushed up by the pink curls of his mouth, teeth flashing. “what right does a merchant’s son, who bested every literati and aristocrat’s son in his own time at the academy, have to scold a nobleman’s second-born for doing the same?”

the only words that woohyun manages to say to that are, “were you first in your class?”

sunggyu’s smile widens into a grin. “of course.”

“you wouldn’t have been were we in the same year,” woohyun then blurts out before he can stop himself. he blinks, and sunggyu blinks back.

sunggyu is no longer grinning, not quite a smile that his mouth is twisted into now. woohyun doesn’t know exactly how to describe the expression on the lieutenant’s face, but his tone when he next speaks makes woohyun’s heart beat hard and loud in his chest. “they give the scrolls that you wrote your examinations on to your trainers,” sunggyu says, and then there is a smile on his face - a small, almost smug smile. “you placed first in your class, but you missed one question.”

the lieutenant stands up, gathering the books into his arms. “i missed none,” sunggyu’s voice is almost sweet, as he turns to walk to his bedroom. “sleep well, soldier.”

to say the least, woohyun’s ability to scent is nearly nonexistent. he is only able to tell sungyeol and howon are alphas because howon’s scent is incredibly potent and after enough time with sungyeol, his scent also catches onto woohyun. for the most part, however, woohyun is a beta and he doesn’t have much need for scenting so he doesn’t honestly care to try and improve a better sense of it. he had always pushed marriage to the back of his mind because his parents have another, older son anyway.

marriage is still nowhere near the forefront of his mind currently, but scenting - suddenly - is.

howon finds it nothing short of absurd and hilarious. “our dear lieutenant kim is an alpha, first of all,” he says a little too loudly for woohyun’s liking, but since the mess hall is generally loud and chaotic, woohyun supposes no one but the two alphas and himself can hear the conversation anyway.

sungyeol finds woohyun’s sudden intentions mildly amusing and fairly pathetic, and makes no attempt to hide this at all. he does his best, in fact, to project it. “find yourself a nice beta or a pretty omega across the lake and stop endangering your manhood.”

“my manhood?” woohyun snorts.

“you will find yourself a little lighter between the legs if you so much as suggest that you have intent towards him,” howon says, face mockingly solemn.

woohyun raises an eyebrow. “if i have bested you in every examination we have had,” he directs at them, “wouldn’t you have more faith in my abilities to pursue even the most unresponsive of targets?”

sungyeol laughs. “maybe you would be suited for him,” he says, almost rolling his eyes, “speaking of courting as if you are preparing a battle plan.”

“before you begin drafting your strategies, friend,” howon says, around a sip of tea, “you should consider that he could already be promised even if he has yet to be mated.”

woohyun leans back on his cushion, taking his legs out from beneath the table and raising his knee so he can rest his arm upon it leisurely. “i think,” he smiles, “you will all be rather astonished at how fondly our dear lieutenant already thinks of me.”

howon and sungyeol exchange unimpressed glances.

vi.

by the beginning of their second year at the academy, they are all deemed physically honed enough to begin officially learning swordfighting and archery. nearly all of them had at some point had lessons previously in their homes whether by their fathers or brothers or uncles, but learning how to use these weapons with intent to kill and defend rather than simply for sport is vastly different.

woohyun’s father was away for most of his childhood at court, too tired to engage in play-fighting with him whenever he came home late into the night. woohyun’s only brother could only roughhouse and teach him how to use weapons for the few years they had together before he was shipped off to the academy fairly early on to begin studies for his court appointment. not only is howon naturally more inclined than woohyun to excelling in physical fitness, but he also has two brothers to fight with and a father who has always stressed a man’s place is on the battlefield rather than behind books.

while howon has as much prowess in his education as he does on the fields, it doesn’t sit well with woohyun that howon is so much better than him even though woohyun maintains his place over howon in their examination rankings time after time.

he’s had quite enough of literally swallowing bits of dirt and mud whenever he finds himself face down with the tip of howon’s wooden sword poking into the back of his neck every time they are paired together - which is every time they have sparring sessions because no one else is up to snuff with woohyun and howon, so woohyun is always partnered with howon and even though woohyun is second physically in their class, he always loses because his opponent is always howon.

woohyun decides to kill two birds with one stone.

“lieutenant,” he says, one night, after he has made sure that sungyeol and howon are sound asleep and snoring in their beds. woohyun stands in the doorway of sunggyu’s room. the trainer is in white robes, dark hair over his shoulders, kneeling at the desk in the center of his room. his brush moves slowly and steadily over the scroll spread out in front of him, candles burning strongly in the corners of the room.

“i do not recall hearing you knock nor do i remember opening my door,” sunggyu says without looking up. he continues writing. “but do come in.”

woohyun steps in, closing the sliding doors behind him, and kneeling on the cushion opposite sunggyu’s at the table. one glance at the scroll tells woohyun that sunggyu is writing up the weekly report that is due from every trainer for each of his assigned students. sunggyu seems to be noting down howon’s archery results for the week. “i have a request,” woohyun says pleasantly.

sunggyu places the brush back into the ink and raises his eyes almost warily up to woohyun’s gaze. “what?”

woohyun grins. “your tone reflects your rather insulting expectations of me.”

“your expression reflects that my expectations will be correct,” sunggyu snorts. “well?”

“would you teach me how to fight?” woohyun asks, looking straight on into sunggyu’s eyes. he lets the grin fade from his face, expression even and hoping that, as sunggyu’s own gaze searches woohyun’s face, the trainer realizes woohyun’s sincerity.

sunggyu’s eyes narrow. “your teachers exist for that purpose.”

“you know that howon is first in our class in both archery and swordfighting,” woohyun says, “and i am second, but the disparity between my results and his are great. i am always partnered with him, but i haven’t won once.” understanding passes over sunggyu’s face. “i just want to win against him - so that i am not only a beta who can never win against an alpha.”

the lieutenant looks down at the drying ink and smooth paper on the table between them. his eyebrows furrow and relax, eyes focused on some invisible point on the paper. the passage of sunggyu’s thoughts is almost visible as woohyun watches him, the silent coating them somehow not uncomfortable in the least. “i am also not so strong - physically,” sunggyu says slowly. “neither archery nor swordfighting are areas that i excel in. however - i can teach you how to read howon’s - how to read anyone’s - style and technique. i can teach you how to predict so that you needn’t be stronger nor a better fighter than him.”

woohyun doesn’t know how long they truly hold each other’s gazes for - it could have been seconds or hours, but it feels only as if one single moment has passed. “thank you,” woohyun says, inclining his head slightly.

“i hope you are still as grateful once we begin,” sunggyu almost smiles as woohyun stands to leave.

vii.

woohyun can’t quite say he has been to hell or any other punishable form of afterlife, but he thinks that he would be duly prepared to do so after experiencing lieutenant kim sunggyu’s idea of private lessons. they always begin once howon and sungyeol are asleep, mostly because woohyun has told sunggyu that he doesn’t want either of them to know, but also because sunggyu isn’t finished with his own duties until that time of night.

the very first night, woohyun landed sunggyu flat on his ass in the dirt, and then each of the four nights following that, woohyun was the one who found himself pummeled to the ground in the silence of the courtyard behind the dormitory. sunggyu sent woohyun to bed each night with no explanation after the session until the fifth night, after the first two rounds where woohyun, once again, loses absolutely as he usually does to howon.

“did you just let me win that first time?” woohyun asks, dusting off the back of his robes and trying not to show any of the complete pain and soreness ringing through his joints.

“no,” sunggyu says shortly, offering a hand to pull the beta up. “i must lose before i win.”

“i don’t quite recall that proverb,” woohyun smiles at sunggyu’s withering gaze.

“it isn’t a proverb, you literal dimwit,” sunggyu says smoothly with no amount of love lost. “when you can, losing is the best way to analyze your opponent’s style of movement, attack, and defense. naturally, you cannot lose first in a real battle - “

“ - that is called death - “

“- but since you won’t be in any danger of dying on the practice fields, you can lose to howon one more time, and from there, you can practice this strategy of prediction enough that once matters become life or death, you shouldn’t need to lose even once to know your opponent’s style. you wouldn’t have time, anyway.”

sunggyu makes the technique seem easy and ideal enough in theory, but the reality of it is far more difficult and grueling. woohyun has already lost a number of times to sunggyu, but it doesn’t make him any more savvy to anticipating what sunggyu will do next - where he’ll strike next, where he’ll defend. this is probably made more severe by the fact that sunggyu’s style, as far as woohyun can grasp, is unpredictable by its very nature.

when woohyun is properly bruised up and worn down, sunggyu sends him to bed without so much as a glance back. he leaves woohyun with the assignment of losing to howon tomorrow at practice, but observing every time he allows howon to take a hit towards him and every time howon defends against one of woohyun’s own blows. “if you do as i’ve instructed correctly, if you’ve paid my words due attention tonight,” sunggyu says, already walking away from woohyun, “tomorrow will be the last time you lose to him.”

viii.

on a bright, sunny day, woohyun digs his knee into howon’s stomach, the point of the beta’s wooden sword poised above the space between the alpha’s eyes, ready to deal the killing blow had this been a true fight. two days before woohyun had lost to howon - once attempting to use sunggyu’s technique, and the second time finally able to use sunggyu’s technique. woohyun hasn’t slept for the past two nights, practicing on the straw and wooden dummies in the dormitory courtyards to practice what he had observed and analyzed.

woohyun knows, however, that his victory is also due to the fact that howon is fairly straightforward. woohyun has been fending him off fairly well anyway even without having any idea of how to truly analyze someone’s technique, but the finishing blow was only manageable because woohyun now knows not to pay attention to the tip of howon’s sword, but his eyes - his expressions, the way he inhales infinitesimally just before he is about to put strength into a strike, the way his throat constricts and his eyes dart when he is about to block an attack.

each pair of partners has an instructor watching their sparring to prevent injuries, foul play, and to call the fight once the victor is clear. when woohyun pins howon into the dirt, however, their instructor for today rushes forward but his mouth opens in complete silence, almost gaping in the same way that howon gapes up at woohyun.

“sir?” woohyun grins over at the instructor, who seems to jerk back into himself before slicing his hand down through the air and shouting the call to end the match as well as woohyun’s name as the winner. everyone’s heads suddenly turn, all matches freezing as woohyun feels dozens of pairs of eyes glued onto him. he removes himself from howon, grasping his friend’s hand and pulling him up along with him.

“what sort of secret witchcraft has our dear lieutenant been teaching you?” howon says, almost disgruntled as they make their way up to the main building while the other matches finish up.

“if i told you,” woohyun says coolly, “it would no longer be a secret.”

howon punches him in the arm, hard enough to hurt, but not so painful that woohyun doesn’t simply laugh to infuriate howon further.

ix.

when they return that day, howon steps right up to sunggyu and promptly demands, “what sort of trainer conspires with one of his trainees against another? what sort of twisted favoritism - “

“a trainer can hardly refuse when one of his trainees requests additional training from him - it shows determination and a desire for success - traits that should be rewarded,” sunggyu says smoothly, booting howon on through the doors with his shoulder against the alpha’s. when they reach the common room, there are bottles and bottles of liquor laid out on the table, along with food to go with the alcohol.

“did the spirits extract your soul and replace it with one kinder, one more benevolent and human - “ sungyeol begins, whirling around to glance at the lieutenant.

“there are no lessons tomorrow and this week of physical training is always the roughest,” sunggyu’s tone is suddenly almost slightly awkward, even though he’s smiling in that sheepish way, eyes curved and small teeth held together with his lips curling upward hesitantly. woohyun notices he’s edging to the side, dressed in his robes rather than his uniform, and beginning to make what is clearly an exit to his own room.

“you aren’t drinking with us?” woohyun asks.

howon and sungyeol also haven’t made any moves to sit either, blinking at sunggyu instead almost anticipatorily. the lieutenant blinks back, once at the alphas, and then at woohyun. “i’m not particularly partial to alcohol,” he says almost dismissively, hands waving for them to sit and start. “or - rather - my body isn’t,” he adds like an afterthought, and woohyun watches as howon and sungyeol look at the trainer almost quizzically, as if now realizing, the way woohyun had realized during their first few sessions together, that sunggyu wasn’t so much older than them - that in some number of years, he wouldn’t be their trainer anymore, he might one day be alongside them at court.

“you should drink with us,” howon says. sunggyu stares, and sungyeol takes that opportunity to step behind sunggyu and steer him by the shoulders to the table. woohyun helps shove sunggyu down onto one of the cushions, even as the lieutenant bats at them, frowning.

“fifteen laps for manhandling a lieutenant,” sunggyu mutters, as howon settles beside him, and woohyun and sungyeol flop down opposite.

“i can drink to that,” howon grins.

sunggyu raises his eyebrows. “good - i’ll gather more enjoyment out of it then,” he says, holding out his bowl for sungyeol to fill it.

when the lieutenant had claimed that his tolerance for liquor was alarmingly low - for a man of the military and for an alpha - they found that there were no untruths in those statements. not even an entire bottle was finished before sunggyu began speaking a little louder than he already normally did anyway, far more cheerful - followed by some additionally loud singing that no one requested but that sungyeol encouraged eagerly with plenty of cheering and applause - followed by sunggyu flopping onto his back and using one of the extra cushions as a pillow.

“i’ll take him to bed,” woohyun announces once sunggyu’s breathing gains a bit of an edge to it - not quite softly snoring, but nearly there. the beta barely manages to wobble onto his own feet.

“i’ll bet you will,” howon says suggestively, and sungyeol sniggers around the rim of his next bowl.

woohyun gives them an amused look, as he carefully slings sunggyu’s arm around his neck and lifts the lieutenant to his feet. he’s glad that sunggyu isn’t as completely unconscious as he seems - there is still strength in his legs even though he leans nearly the entirety of his weight onto woohyun. as he guides sunggyu out of the common area, where howon and sungyeol are going on attempting to drink each other to death without pause, and into the lieutenant’s bedroom, it’s then that woohyun finally knows what sunggyu’s scent is.

it hits him, fills his nose, when sunggyu’s head lolls close on woohyun’s shoulder, hair brushing woohyun’s cheek. the beta swallows dryly, reaching back with his foot to hook on the sliding door so he can shut it despite his hands being preoccupied. he needs his hands, however, to light any candles in the room, and since that isn’t an option, he settles for whatever moonlight filters through the windows.

woohyun gently lies sunggyu down on the mattress, which has thankfully already been rolled out. he watches sunggyu’s eyes flutter open as his head hits the pillow. their gazes meet, but woohyun doesn’t know if sunggyu is truly awake or simply drifting in the gray area between reality and dreams.

the alpha’s scent is so different from what woohyun normally associates as an alpha’s scent. howon and sungyeol smell typically like alphas - a scent that woohyun knows with his mind should make him want to submit and respect and beware as a beta, but woohyun’s body doesn’t seem to recognize it. he knows he isn’t typical himself in that regard.

sunggyu’s scent doesn’t have that edge that alpha scents have to woohyun - that initial acidic burn when it enters his nose and fills his lungs. sunggyu simply smells steady - he smells strong and light, intense and soft, like the forest after it has just rained, like a garden early in the morning.

sunggyu smells like someone woohyun would want to follow for the rest of his life.

“woohyun,” sunggyu whispers, eyes opening a sliver more. one of the alpha’s hands reaches up slightly, fingertips clinging to the collar of woohyun’s robes.

he thinks he would give anything to be able to lean down and press their lips together - right now, in the darkness, right here on sunggyu’s bed in sunggyu’s room.

he would give anything.

woohyun slowly, as softly as he can, extricates sunggyu’s fingers from his clothes, pressing his lips to those instead of sunggyu’s mouth. “sleep well, sir,” he murmurs. sunggyu’s eyes follow him for a moment longer as he stands before fluttering shut with a sigh.

the beta doesn’t know how long he stands there, watching him sleep. he’s glad that howon and sungyeol are far too intoxicated to realize how long woohyun must have been gone from the room. he’s even gladder that sungyeol already has a bowl filled and ready for him when he retakes his seat.

#fic #unfinished #wg #tsau

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saetorimedia · 6 years

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Highly popular with Chinese families and business groups, this 198-room hotel showcases the country’s public bathing culture in its extreme. More than 70 public pools congregate in an immense, outdoor hot spring zone, each with a different theme, from the TCM pond to the Turkish Doctor Fish pond to the sizzling Volcano pond.

While city hopping around Shanghai, we decided to take a day or two off and enjoy it in some hot springs as soon as we found out there’s an entire part based around hot springs. We spend a couple of hours finding the right one, some of them are super luxurious and in that case also very expensive. But we found EA Springs, they offer a wide variety of baths for a fair price.

What are hot springs? A hot spring is a spring produced by the emergence of geothermally heated groundwater that rises from the Earth’s crust. While some of these springs contain water that is a safe temperature for bathing, others are so hot that immersion can result in injury or death. However Hot springs are a very regularly visited sight in Asia, the warmth of the water of different degrees is supposed to be good for you health and your skin. There are different types of hot springs, man made baths like EA spring or natural pools as you have them in Iceland.

汤山温泉度假区 Tangshan Hot Spring

Tangshan Hot Spring is the No. 1 of the China Four Major Spas. It is the only hot spring that has obtained double certification from European & Japanese hot spring water quality. Tangshan got its name because of the hot spring. It was regarded as the “Holy Spring” by the emperor of the Southern Dynasty since more than 1500 years ago and was well-received by the officials and literati.

Easpring Tangshan Adress: No. 8 Wenquan Road, Tangshan Town, Jiangning District 江宁区汤山街道温泉路8号; +86 25 51190666; Price: Nightly rate from RMB 580 (US$93.2) plus 15 percent, RMB 100 ($16) per person to enter the hot springs zone for hotel guests, RMB 218 ($35) for outside guests; official website http://nj.ea-spring.com

We booked the room online at booking.com as we always do with any trip we go on. We booked a room in the hotel but when we arrived we were upgraded for the same price of to a small almost private hut on the grounds with our own private pool. As we were visiting the springs in the fall (oktober) it was fairly quiet in the entire hotel. We noticed right away that the springs and the hotel are separate but you pay less for the visit when you stay in the hotel. We already got our moneys worth with our own hot pool in the backyard. We got shown around the room, it had shutter doors which gave it a really chinese feel. The Aji (cleaning lady) showed us in but after we came back to agree to the upgrade the first very well stocked mini fridge was now completely empty. But we still got some complimentary drinks! The small shop in the hotel had only some chips, soft drinks and instant lamian to buy.. and a lot of swim suits of course. But we bought some chips and soda’s since we’d been carrying around our own bottles since they’re super cheap at the chinese carrefour.

Our room

the bathroom and exit to the garden

the small garden

the bath in the garde

Please be aware when you visit this hotel, bring your own food and drinks unless you’re okay with eating Chinese dinner and breakfast or want a snack or alcoholic beverage while in your room!

When we were settled we filled our pool, which was impressive as it pumped really hard and filled up the deep tub in about 5 minutes with scorching hot water. There really is nothing better than sitting outside, looking at the sky and the vegetation around you while sitting in a hot bath, with a cold drink and good company. Just this made me relax beyond believe. We must have sat in it (on and off) for about three hours. (With the sounds of a couple a couple of doors over getting some loving on……..) We let them know however that we could hear the entire thing and it got quiet!

in the bath

during dinner

Afterwards we went to get a bite to eat, people around us we’re in their bathrobes and with wet hair and it just felt really good and relaxed. We picked a hot pot type situation with some vegetables supposedly being cauliflower, however when it came instead of cauliflower it was cabbage. We added the cold meat we ordered separately and ate until we were full. We came back to our room after checking our messages in the lobby, Wifi isn’t working in the hut rooms. Then we sat in the pool for 2 or 3 more hours after refilling it with hot steaming water. We hit the beds after and slept until the sun came up, the beds were comfortable and you could hear birds and the wind around you since we hadn’t fully closed the windows as the weather was good outside.

When the morning came we got ready and had some food to eat, the typical Chinese breakfast. fried rice, meat, pork buns, sweet buns, rice porridge, eggs and more. But after 2 weeks we were really used to it and ate a lot, took some yoghurt cups for later and soon enough got our 24h tickets to the springs and when we went in we were blown away, granted it ended up being two rainy days.

EA springs has around 50 pools and then the 30 private spring pool huts. Every pool has a different temperature and different herbs or ‘flavours’. We got to sit in red wine and coconut milk. They also have a turkish dr fish pool. Which was scary at first because as soon as you step into it what looks like 100s of fish come swimming towards you and start nibbling on your skin. But by the time I was used to the nipping feeling I sat there for almost an hour being eaten alive.

They have 1 large Leisure pool and a couple of mud, salt or heated sand ‘baths’ but you pay extra for these. The staff brings you warm tea every 10 or 20 minutes and you can buy some food. Foods like hot bath boiled eggs and peanuts. When you’re done with the bath they have roman style warm marble floors you can lay on to dry off and they have a relaxing room where you can buy a few more snacks while relaxing in amazing chairs. If you do you have to change into a snazzy silk outfit.

Opinion 8/10 I give this hotel and it’s facilities a 8 out of 10 because, as we were there during a down season, there weren’t many people around. We could take our time and relax completely. The staff besides not speaking english is absolutely friendly and help out with everything. However, there is not much to do around the hotel, no shops or restaurants or even people. There are supposed to be some caves but we had no idea how to find them by foot. Though if you want a relaxed day or two give this hotel a shot. Enjoy any of the 50 baths and if you can upgrade to the private pool hut so you can enjoy the water until the middle of the night.

Would you like to take a relaxing day in China while you travel the country? There is no better place to relax than a hot spring. I visited EA Spring in Nanjing while we were there and highly recommend it! #China #Nanjing #hotsprings Highly popular with Chinese families and business groups, this 198-room hotel showcases the country’s public bathing culture in its extreme.

#easpring #easpring tangshan #hot springs #nanjing #purple mountain #shanghai #tangshan mountain

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kristablogs · 7 years

Text

I Found My Voice As A Writer In Justin Timberlake Fan Fiction

Simone Noronha for BuzzFeed News

At 13 years old, there was one thing I knew for sure: If ever I were to meet Justin Timberlake, it would have to be under the pretense that I wasn’t a fan.

Trust, I’d given it a lot of thought. Imagining all of the possible ways I could end up in the same room as JT was at the top of my list of favorite pastimes, right next to listening to NSYNC. I knew the most likely way to meet him would be in the capacity of a fan, maybe at a meet-and-greet or by winning backstage passes, but I also understood that if I wanted Justin to take me seriously — and that was key, if we were going to fall in love — I couldn’t come across as some embarrassing, giddy, fawning fan. Which, of course, I was.

So I spent hours imagining our possible love stories — as I was falling asleep, when I was daydreaming in class, wherever. These were PG-rated rom-coms, starring future me and (somehow) 1998-era Justin Timberlake. The scenarios were convoluted; they had dialogue; I knew what I’d be wearing and exactly how I’d win him over. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was creating fanfic — more than a decade before I knew there was such a thing.

I fell hard for NSYNC, and Justin, in 1998, right around when the “Tearin’ Up My Heart” video came out. Before that, I’d been dismissive of boy bands. I was raised primarily on rap and R&B, my parents hailing from what my dad called, to my great embarrassment, the “Boogie-Down Bronx.” So I knew what good music was, and this pretty-boy stuff was not it. But then TRL became a thing, and these boys were unavoidable. And then I saw the video. More specifically, I saw Justin’s arm in a tank top, bent over his glossy blond curls and pouting lips — just so.

I am not hyperbolizing when I say something deep within me shifted in that moment. I’d had celebrity crushes before, but I was mostly too embarrassed to even admit them to myself. (In a fill-in-the-blank journal from when I was 8, I’d crossed out an “I have a crush on ____” prompt and substituted in tiny letters above it, “I sort of think the Fresh Prince is cute.”) Those were the fleeting interests of an amateur; this crush — this passion — settled into my core. As a chubby, bespectacled middle schooler who had heavy bangs long past the time everyone else had grown them out, I was scared of people in general and terrified especially of boys. But man, those biceps sure seemed like they’d be fun to touch.

Part of loving a famous icon is the acute agony of knowing he is unreachable.

Within months, I was all in. I owned approximately 40 pieces of NSYNC merchandise: multiple posters, pins, one giant pencil, a journal, a folder, pens, stickers, patches, every magazine with the band on the cover, lip balm, their official book, textbook covers, dolls, shirts, and, of course, CDs. I recorded (on actual VHS tapes!) every music video and MTV appearance, as well as their HBO special, and I watched a random segment from those tapes with a bowl of cereal every morning before school. I went to two concerts and cried both times. I read every bit of trivia. I memorized Justin’s birthday (Jan. 31) and favorite movie (The Usual Suspects). And when MTV linked up with Star Wars for a trivia sweepstakes, the prize for which involved a one-on-five date with the boys, I saw The Phantom Menace in theaters four times to try to answer their list of questions. I didn’t win.

People who’ve never experienced this specific brand of boy-idol love might be baffled by the fact that it often brings millions of girls to tears. What they don’t understand is that part of loving a famous icon is the acute agony of knowing he is unreachable. I loved Justin Timberlake so much, just like millions of other girls in the world, and not only would I never be with him, but I’d never be able to appreciate a real relationship, because I’d know the person I ended up with would not be the man I loved the most. [Quick note to say hi to my boyfriend, whom — I want to be clear — I love much more than I love Justin Timberlake.] I felt this massive injustice as a true, powerful, physical pain. The only way I was able to mitigate it was to distract myself with stories that placed me and JT in a universe where we could be together.

By the time I was fully under siege by NSYNC obsession, I’d begun writing, and abandoned, three novels. I loved reading, I wrote in my journal every day, and I knew I wanted to be a writer when I grew up — either that or a singer (still on the fence, to be honest). But when I tried to write fiction, I hated what came out. I’d suddenly lose any imagination I had. The dialogue didn’t make sense. Nothing sounded as real or natural as the stuff I was reading. I didn’t know how people got ideas, and, if they were lucky enough to come up with one, how they didn’t get bored with it.

But love stories about me and JT? Those came easy.

One of my favorites: I’m 18, finally, and super hot (finally). NSYNC is still touring because they will never ever break up, and they’re holding a contest (a singing contest), and the winner gets to sing a song with them onstage. I’m not planning on trying out, but I go with a friend who is. When we get to the audition room, after my friend sings well but not too well, Justin (who is, obviously, judging) asks what I’ll be singing. And I say, Oh me? No, no, I’m just here for support, I couldn’t possibly.

And then my friend says, She actually has a great voice.

And Justin smiles wryly, and I’m like, Well, if you insist, though I’m hardly prepared!

Justin, the rest of the boys, and my friend needle me until finally I close my eyes and just go for it, belting (usually, though, this detail changed from time to time) some vintage Mariah Carey. I nail it, a cappella, and everyone — especially Justin — is blown away. And then I win, and then we fall in love.

In these imagined futures, Justin played an important role, but the real star was future me.

Or: I bring my younger cousin to a concert, and we wait outside afterward because she wants to meet the guys. When they come by to say hello (because of course they do) I kind of smirk and shrug and say, I’m sorry to bother you guys — she’s just such a fan. And Justin, who is floored by the fact that this cool (and hot, so frickin’ hot) chick isn’t remotely impressed by him, says, And you’re not? And I say something so chill, like, Pop music isn’t really my speed. And then he asks if I want to hang out. And then we fall in love.

The fantasies were many and varied and provided a vital, immersive respite from the life I was actually living — one consisting mainly of wondering what made the popular kids popular, how people mustered the courage to speak up in large groups, and why I’d gotten stuck with a body all plump and wrong, so unlike all the others I saw on TV. In these imagined futures, Justin played an important role, but the real star was future me. And she was everything I needed to believe I’d become — attractive, witty, and, above all, bold. If I could trust that self was waiting for me, those in-between years seemed a little more manageable.

There is a name for what I was doing, though I didn’t know it at the time. I was creating fanfiction — those amateur, fan-written, oft mocked stories featuring characters created by other writers (or real pop stars) as well as first- or second-person narration, which have found vibrant communities on websites like Tumblr and Wattpad. But I kept mine to myself. The stories I actually wrote down, and eventually showed to other people, never starred dreamy pop idols. It didn’t seem like something a "Real Writer" would do, as if “good” writing and joy were mutually exclusive. But I now find kinship among those who contribute to these platforms. To say fanfiction stories are nothing but personalized soft porn for horny girls (which, to be very clear, is an important part of what they are, and which I’m 100% for) is to greatly underestimate their power.

That fanfiction has real commercial power is now well-acknowledged; Fifty Shades of Grey, originally written as Twilight fanfic, is probably the most mainstream, but Anna Todd also turned her One Direction fanfic After into a six-figure book deal and a wildly successful trilogy. Then there are the “retellings,” i.e. fanfic approved by the literati: Gregory Maguire’s Wicked, the series and musical about Frank L. Baum’s Oz witches, or Jean Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea, an imagined prequel to Jane Eyre. Which is to say, writers pull inspiration from all manner of sources; sometimes the result is a love story that asserts the validity of a young woman’s (often dismissed) desire. Sometimes it is a channel through which a burgeoning writer can deliver and refine her talent.

My stories, like those of many fanfic writers, were as much about building a narrative as they were about enacting a fantasy.

My stories, like those of many fanfic writers, were as much about building a narrative as they were about enacting a fantasy. I can remember how problems of character motivation seemed so much less abstract when they were considered through the lens of an imagined, but possible, future — Justin Timberlake was a real (if mythic) person, and structuring the narrative became a sort of problem-solving. What could a person like me do to meet a person like him? I struggled to figure out what an 8-year-old would do if she found a secret portal to a fantasy world (my second abandoned novel), but I loved putting myself in conversation with my ultimate crush and asking, What next? What next?

There is a simple, dizzying joy in writing (or reading!) a story in which you and your dream crush are the stars, but also intrinsic to that setup is the understanding that you — the writer, the reader — deserve the star treatment you’re receiving. If this is something you don’t believe (and certainly, when I was imagining my own love stories, I didn’t believe it), it can be comfort enough to pretend you do, to indulge the notion that you might be good enough to be the protagonist of your own story for long enough that it no longer feels that far-fetched.

I didn’t meet Justin Timberlake (and haven't yet). But I did grow into my confidence and my voice — a voice which I know was honed by the stories I told myself. Without those stories, there would be no writing career, no novel, no unrepentant gushing over the things (and people) who drive my creativity. There’s probably a lot more of 13-year-old Arianna in me now than 13-year-old Arianna would have wanted. But, at 30, I can see she was always cooler than she believed, anyway. I like to think, had Justin met me then, he would have at least been kind of charmed. ●

Arianna Rebolini is author of the novel Public Relations with Katie Heaney. She was formerly a deputy editorial director at BuzzFeed. You can follow her @AriannaRebolini or check out her writing here.

Learn more about Public Relations here.

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