#At the end of the day the story i’m telling now is far superior and much more important than what i had previously and i don’t regret it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goosewriting · 10 months

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summary: after getting stationed at the fortress inquisitorius, it seems a certain inquisitor takes an interest in reader.

relationship: inquisitor Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: (18+) me being absolutely delulu, slow-burn-ish??? as it can get at 7k lol, making out at the end and fade to black, sexual tension if you squint, psychometry

word count: 7.6k

A/N: started writing this back when i restarted JFO and got cal’s inquisitor clothes, so it’s been in the works for quite some time. also i had made pancakes back then and was sad about having no one to share them with, so i shall share them virtually with all of you <3

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

As long as you can remember, you’ve always been fascinated by the way people communicate with each other. Now, as a linguistics and behaviour expert, you count yourself lucky to be one of the probably few people who actually like their job. Stationed in an Imperial office on your home planet, you mainly monitor comms and analyse the occasional security holovid in an attempt to weed out any suspicious activity.

In fact, it was thanks to you that a rebel cell was found, since you caught a suspicious exchange on unused frequencies, which earned you a promotion. You were content with that already, but then your superior said he’d put in a good word for you, as he’s always felt like you were far more capable than just listening to comms all day, and that you could use your skills better in service of the Empire.

Fast-forward three months and lo and behold, you’re now stationed at Fortress Insquisitorius.

It’s the first day and while you’ve got the grand tour of the place by a group of stormtroopers especially assigned to you (you still can’t quite believe you get your own little squad of troopers), there’s still some time before dinner. After dismissing the men, saying you’ll catch up to them later at the mess hall, you walk around, further checking out the place.

As you turn a corner to a hallway you haven’t been to yet, you notice it looks rather deserted. You check the small sign on the wall; this leads to one of the bigger residential wings, but not yours. So you decide to turn on your heels and head the other way. Except that before you can even take a step in that direction, you’re stopped in your tracks by an invisible force and turned back around again. This hold around you isn’t so tight that you can’t breathe, but you do feel the pressure keeping your arms at your sides and your body suspended in the air, the sole of your boots hanging barely an inch over the polished floor. Unable to resist your captor, you’re met with an Inquisitor, of all people, who slowly walks towards you with one of their hands in the air, holding you in place.

They come to a halt before you, the helmet tilting slightly to the side as the eyes under the red visor study you, out of your view.

“Who are you?” comes the distorted voice. Despite the modulator, you can tell by the tone and body language it’s a man. You’ve heard stories about Inquisitors, and despite being stationed at their base, you hoped you wouldn’t have to interact with them. Just your luck, and in an empty hallway no less.

Nonetheless, you tell him your name, station and even your office’s room number. Just in case.

“I’m new,” you add, as if it wasn’t obvious by now. He remains eerily calm and still all the while. With a polite smile, you throw the question back at him, “And you are?”

His helmet tilts the other way ever so slightly as if your question took him by surprise.

“Inquisitor Kestis,” he replies after a second. “Cal Kestis”

“Well, nice to meet you, Inquisitor Cal Kestis,” you say. If you could move, you’d stretch out your hand towards him out of habit as a greeting, but he probably wouldn’t take it either way, so you’re glad you don’t get the chance to embarrass yourself. Yet, anyway.

For a few moments, he just stands there with you in his invisible grasp. Is he looking at you? Did he space out? You suddenly feel your stomach complaining about its emptiness.

“Uhm, could you let me down again?” you ask, looking down at the floor tiles and back up at the red visor. “I’d like to go get dinner.”

Without a word, he places you back onto the ground surprisingly gently, then takes off in the direction he came from, disappearing from your view as he turns a corner. Well, you think to yourself with a satisfied nod as you make your way to the mess hall, I think that was a solid first impression. Good job, me.

The next day, you officially start your new job, and you’re all sorts of excited and nervous. You’re still intercepting messages, decoding and translating encrypted communications, but on a much higher level this time. These are important people you’re monitoring. You’re also called as an interpreter when there’s holocalls with parties who refuse to have droids in the room. Besides, the officers and generals seem to actually enjoy having you around, with your happy and optimistic demeanour in this otherwise cold and sterile building. You know that Imperial staff can be rough sometimes, but you’re convinced that the kindness you put out into the world eventually comes back to you. So you make sure to treat everyone equally, with kindness and respect, wearing a smile whenever you get the chance.

The days go on, and you see all sorts of people around the place. You do see some Inquisitors from time to time, mainly in the hangar. Occasionally they make an appearance in the mess hall as well, but they usually sit alone and for a very short amount of time on one of the round tables in the far corner of the mess. You never see Inquisitor Kestis there, though.

As you sit with your little trooper squad, you chew on a stringy piece of meat deep in thought, not really paying attention to the conversation. This Kestis has you intrigued if you’re being honest with yourself. You still don't understand why he talked to you. The other Inquisitors seem to ignore you, as well as everyone else, most of the time. Besides, Kestis could have just talked to you. There was no need to Force-hold you or anything. Was he trying to show you he’s in charge or something? Doesn’t that mean that he felt threatened?

With a light scoff at yourself — because the notion of an Inquisitor being intimidated by you is pretty silly — you take another bite of your food, your gaze scanning the mess hall without looking at anything in particular. The thing is that, since you don’t see Kestis in the mess hall like, ever, you only catch fleeting glances of him here and there when you see him slip into the elevator or turn a sharp corner at a hallway. You furrow your brows. It’s almost like he’s avoiding you. And that makes you just much more intrigued in what his deal is.

When the squad is in a good mood, you try to slip a question into the conversation about the Inquisitors here and there, asking if they ever saw their faces or what they’re like, and what they do. The troopers can only tell you the rumours you’ve already heard in a thousand different versions, the details getting more violent and out of hand every time you hear them. You dismiss most of those stories; you’ve noticed that a few Inquisitors walk around without a helmet. And others are pretty direct in their attitude towards others, getting into arguments or even physical fights when something bothers them. So they all want the rest to know who they are and be scared, many even seem to enjoy the fear in people’s faces. But Kestis? The few times you’ve seen him, he moves like a well-oiled machine. His face is always hidden, every movement is calculated, and he doesn’t waste his breath on any unnecessary syllable. That’s just proof that he has a carefully curated persona he wears when he’s out and about. But once he’s alone, when he gets to peel back all those layers? You truly wonder what lies beneath.

One evening you find yourself thinking about him yet again, suddenly concerned about his eating habits, wondering if he’s okay and eating well. For some reason that you still can’t quite comprehend, you decide to just go to him. After all, if he didn’t want to see you, he’d just send you away, right? By now you’re very well aware about what the Inquisitors are capable of, but you’re both on the same side, so surely there’s nothing to worry about.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as your feet carry you to the mess hall that evening.

After you’re done eating (the food today is better than you would have thought), you order a second portion to go. You start walking down the hallway, looking for a console or a droid. You know where the residential wing is, but you don’t know what floor the Inquisitors’ rooms are, and doubt there’ll be specific directions towards them. It isn’t long before you do find an R4 unit, and you ask where the Inquisitor quarters are. The cylindrical droid beeps and jumps a little with a startle, at first unwilling to tell you, afraid that if it does, the droid will be sliced in half. But you promise the droid that you won’t tell on it. So after some more convincing and promising the droid you owe it an oil bath, it finally brings up a holomap of the place, showing you where you want to go with a blinking dot.

With a pat on the head, you say your thanks and go to where the map said. Soon enough, you find yourself in a wing of the building you’ve not only never been to, but one you didn’t even know existed if it wasn’t for the droid. The design of the walls is even sleeker here, and the sound of your boots echoes through the hallway. The further you walk into this wing, the fewer people and troops you come across. Even the constant rumbling of machinery behind the panels seems to be quieter here.

After some more minutes of walking, you finally reach the door you’re looking for. There are no signs or name plaques, but you remember the number on the door from the droid’s map. The lettering is almost the same shade of black as the door, so it took you a moment to find the right one. But you’re fairly sure this one should be it.

Taking one final deep breath, you knock on the door. In the seconds waiting for a response, you suddenly feel silly about being here. He’s a full-grown man. An Inquisitor. Why did you think he’d need you to bring him dinner? What if he didn’t like it anyway–

The door opens with a whoosh, and you look up. For some reason, you were expecting to be met with the red visor of his helmet. Which now that you think about, doesn’t make sense; if he’s in his quarters, he wouldn’t be walking around with his full uniform on.

Instead, you’re met with a pair of intense yellow eyes, and equally fiery red hair on his head. Your breath hitches and you’re not sure if it’s the surprise of seeing his uncovered face or the realisation that he’s incredibly handsome, and it just caught you off-guard.

He gives you a quick once-over, momentarily looking at the box in your hands, then bringing his eyes back to yours, boring into your very soul.

“Why are you here?” he asks in a flat voice.

“I haven't seen you in the mess hall today. Or, any other day, really,” you explain, unable to tear your eyes away from him. “Ever since I've started working here. So I brought some food in case you haven't eaten yet…” Your voice starts trailing off at the end as you once again realise how dumb that sounds out loud.

He holds your gaze a little longer, narrowing his eyes at you as if to scrutinise whether you're being honest or not. While you hope he’ll accept the food in case he actually hasn't eaten yet, that's all you expect to happen. You’re counting on him taking the box and leaving you be, so you can go back to your quarters and continue reading your novel, which you are actually looking forward to.

To your surprise, the Inquisitor takes a step to the side, silently inviting you in. You walk past him, slightly bowing your head as a thanks, and take in his quarters. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it's surprisingly… normal. Bigger than the barracks and other quarters you've seen, including yours, but still normal. There’s a banner with the Imperial emblem hanging on the far wall, a couch on the other side, and a round table with some chairs in the middle, as well as a kitchenette. Everything is neat and clean.

You hear the doors close as you walk to the table and place the box on it, turning back around to Kestis, who’s eyeing you curiously.

“It’s still warm,” you tell him, pointing at the food.

He walks by you to pick up the container, and that’s when you notice he’s still wearing his gloves. It strikes you as odd to be wearing them in the confines of his own room, but to each their own. Kestis walks to the kitchen and pours the food onto a plate and throws away the take-out container, then rummages in a drawer for a fork. After walking past you to sit at the table, he takes off his gloves and places them neatly next to him on the table.

“Sit,” he orders without looking at you, and takes the first bite. You sit down across from him.

“Have you already eaten?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” you give the honorific a try, and he seems to like it. “At the mess hall.”

“I wouldn’t have any food to offer you either way,” he states, and lifts his gaze to look at you. “This visit is… unexpected.”

“I’m sorry for intruding, Sir. I didn’t mean to. I just–”

“You just what?” He shoots you a look akin to a glare.

“I was just worried, I guess,” you say. He scoffs.

“Please don’t act like you care,” he retorts. “If you need or want something, just tell me upfront.”

“What? No, I- I’m not acting,” you reassure him, raising your hands slightly to underline you’re being earnest. “I’m not trying to gain something in exchange. I was genuinely worried about not seeing you in the mess hall.”

His fork stops mid-way from the plate to his mouth, and the intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why?” he asks. You squirm slightly in your seat.

“I’m not sure myself, to be honest,” you admit, and you can’t help the defeated slump of your shoulders. “You were the first one who talked to me when I got here out of their own volition and not because of work. After our chat, I was hoping to see you around or something…”

The pause that follows lasts for a couple of seconds only, but it feels eternal. Until finally, Kestis lets out a short sigh and continues eating.

“I usually avoid the mess hall,” he says, his voice much more gentle now. “Too many people. Too much noise.”

“I see,” is all you manage to reply.

Taking the two last bites of his meal, Kestis sets down the fork. That’s my queue, you think.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep imposing,” you say, rising up to your feet, and he does the same. Before turning around, you search his eyes one last time. “That’s really all I wanted to do: to bring you the food. I’ll be going now. Good night, Sir.”

The Inquisitor walks you to the door, and just as you walk past the threshold, his words surprise you.

“Next time you could bring two portions.”

You whip around, but the door whooshes shut with a hiss.

— — —

After that, you two fall into a strange routine where you get dinner to go and bring it to his quarters so you can eat together. The conversations start out as polite small-talk, but soon enough you can broaden your topics, ranging from work to anecdotes and fun facts you picked up here and there.

While the tone remains polite and all in all pleasant, you do notice that he’s very careful not to touch you. You think it’s because he’s being respectful, but unbeknownst to you, it’s because he wants to get to know you organically, and not pry into the echoes of your belongings. Even if he knows he could, and you’d never even know, and despite his growing curiosity, he feels… compelled to try. For you. Because you bring a refreshing factor into his otherwise stale life, like a gentle melody in the cold vastness of space.

It’s rare to run into Cal, as he’s recently allowed you (and only you) to call him, in the halls or in the hangar. As fate would have it though, you’re just about to get into a ship with your trooper squad to leave for a job off-planet, while Cal happens to be getting off his own ship at the same time.

You don’t want to disturb him. Even if you want to wave at him from afar really badly, or even call out to him. But you think he’d appreciate it if you keep your relationship, whatever it is, a secret. To your complete surprise however, once he spots you in the ever moving crowd of the busy hangar, he comes to you.

Beelining towards you, he comes to a stop in front of you, sporting his full uniform. And while the group around you stiffens up and some even take a precautionary step back, you feel very at ease in his presence, greeting him like you normally would with a smile. If you’re being completely honest, you feel kinda proud that one of the most feared Inquisitors on base came to you, and that everyone seems so scared of him while you are completely relaxed, though still remaining respectful of course.

“Welcome back,” you greet Cal with a genuine smile. “I hope your mission wasn’t too eventful?”

“It all went according to plan,” the distorted voice says with a static crackle.

“That’s good to hear,” you reply.

Cal’s head shifts ever so slightly, the visor looking past your face to something behind your back.

“Is there a problem, trooper?” the Inquisitor asks, standing a little taller as he addresses the soldier who’s shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“With all due respect, Sir, we’re on a tight schedule-“

The trooper next to him elbows him in the side.

“Is that so,” Cal asks rhetorically, and you can’t really read his tone because of the distortion. Still, you decide to intervene.

“It’s okay, we can still make it on time,” you assure him and shoot the trooper a pointed look while whispering to Cal that he’s new. “But yes, we should probably get going. I’m glad I got to see you, though. Thanks for stopping by to say hi.”

Cal nods and makes room for you to walk past, while the others keep a noticeable distance between the Inquisitor and themselves as they walk around him. When you reach the ramp to the ship, you turn around one last time. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you’re still surprised to see Cal standing there, hands behind his back, facing your direction. You give a little wave with your hand, then hurry up the ramp and take a seat. As the ship takes off, you’re checking the data on your holopad. You suddenly feel something on your cheek, like the faintest caress of a summer breeze, and you could swear you just heard a voice in your head.

‘Come back safely.’

As the ship activates the hyperdrive, your hand involuntarily comes up to touch your cheek where the skin still prickles from what you can only describe as a ghost’s touch.

— — —

Ever since then, you notice a shift in the way everyone treats you, even your superiors, but especially the troopers. Some seem to get out of your way completely when you come walking down the hall, while others are especially attentive to your needs, offering to help you whenever you look like you’re lost or are searching for something. That one trooper who had spoken up to Cal, you haven’t seen him around at all. In fact, it isn’t until two weeks after the incident that you decide to ask one of your other squad members where he is, and she tells you that he got reassigned to not only a different squadron, but an entirely different planetary system. You have a hunch about who’s responsible for that, but you're still not quite sure why he would go to such lengths. Had he really felt that disrespected? You should watch your tone with him from now on, lest you also be sent to some backwater planet…

However, Cal still acts as he always has around you. You still eat dinner in his room, like you’ve been doing for a while now. And while it may just be your wishful thinking, it seems like his whole body language has finally started to soften too. When it’s just the two of you, his shoulders are not as tense, his jaw not as tight, his eyes not as harsh. Even the way he talks has changed. Others may not notice, but you’re literally trained for this. His choice of words has shifted to a less strictly professional lingo, allowing himself to articulate more freely, as well as use more face expressions, voice tone changes and hand gestures, compared to how he acted when your dinner routine started. At some point, he even stopped wearing his gloves around you all the time.

On one hand, for the past couple of months, dinner has been the highlight of your day. You get to spend time with someone who actually listens to you, not because of work, not because you have data they need, but because they just like to spend time with you. Or at least you hope he does.

On the other hand, you’ve been noticing a slight knot in your stomach whenever you stand in front of Cal’s door, waiting for it to open. As well as the prick of heat on your cheeks when he reacts to your jokes (you haven’t seen him properly smile or laugh out loud yet, but you’ll get there). And let’s not forget the involuntary hitch of your breath accompanied by the skip of your heart when you discover him in the same room with you when you weren’t expecting to see him.

Somewhere deep within you, you know what all of those mean. But you like the relationship that you’ve built with him, no matter how weird it is, too much to listen to your gut right now. So you just push all and any thought of that kind waaay back into the darkest corner of your brain, hoping it’ll pass.

— — —

One day, you’re feeling a little blue, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Cal. He asks what the problem is, and you tell him you miss something from your home planet. He assures you, whatever it is, he can get it for you. So you write down some things and he orders them. Only two rotations later, the package is at his door.

He's really curious to open it but decides to wait for you to get there that evening. When you’re finally in his quarters and he shows you the box, you’re super happy and unpack everything: it’s candy, some fruits he’s never seen before, a jar of what looks like herbs, and another jar with a blue spread of sorts.

You hum, thinking about what to show him first, and decide to go for the jar with the spread. Picking it up, you’re about to start explaining what it is while you open it, but whatever you plan to say gets cut off because of your fruitless effort to screw open the lid. You give it a second try, but it just won’t budge.

With a sheepish look, you wordlessly hand him the glass and when he takes it, there’s a cocky smile on his face that you’ve never seen on him before. You bite your tongue just in time to stop some witty remark, because it would have been a jumble of sounds and no coherent sentence anyway. For in a split second, all those feelings and thoughts you have been repressing come back all at once in one massive wave that crashes over you, drowning everything else around you.

If that small of a change in his face has such a big effect on you, you wonder what else there is. What would a proper smile on him look like? Would he ever properly smile at you? With you? For you? And if it was the other way around, if it was you wearing a cocky grin, looking down at him, how would he—

Oh, oh no. You’re in it bad. So bad.

The sound of your name snaps you back to reality, where Cal is offering you the now open jar, waiting for you to take it. You blink a couple of times, your eyes moving from his face to the jar, then back to his face. One of his brows rises to give you a questioning look. Heat spreads on your face, ears and neck at the multiple images that appeared in your head. You give him a quick thanks, grab the jar, and turn around to hide from his gaze. Already familiarised with his kitchen, you walk up to the counter to rummage in the drawer for a spoon. Taking a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart, you turn back around. Cal is still standing by the table, following your every movement with his yellow eyes. And for some reason, you feel like all the walls you had managed to pick away at ever so slowly have been pulled up again around him.

You’ve heard stories of Force users being able to read minds, and right now you really hope they’re not true. What if he can sense your thoughts? Is he… disgusted at you?

Somehow managing to regain your composure and willing away most of the prickling heat on your face, you explain to him what this spread is called in your mother tongue, which translates to something like “sweet of milk”, and how delicious it is.

You’re still by the counter, not really wanting to get into Cal’s space, and you take a spoonful of the jar’s contents and put it into your mouth.

“Hm, it’s so good,” you say, offering him the spoon to give it a try himself.

He suddenly seems to revert to his normal self and approaches you, grabbing a new spoon from the drawer. Ah, you should have known, he doesn’t like sharing cutlery. Or cups. Or… anything, really. Odd, but you’ve always just attributed it to him being scared of germs or the like, which is very valid. It’s probably the same reason why he’s wearing gloves all the time, especially outside.

As he twists the spoon in his mouth, you see Cal’s face light up for the first time; he likes it. You’re relieved.

“So glad you like it! Alright then, let’s make some pancakes. You’re going to love them,” you exclaim.

Seeing the rest of the imported goods on the table, you tell him to try some candy while you work. You take off your bracelet, leaving it next to the box, and roll up your sleeves to get to work.

While the pancakes are cooking, you watch Cal’s reaction to the sweets. He first inspects it closely in his fingers; it’s shaped like a short stick with stripes in different shades of pink. You tell him the wrappers have trivia facts about animals, but they’re written in your native language. So while he chews on the soft candy, he walks over to you, holding out the wrapper for you to read.

“What does it say?” he asks, and you can’t help feel extremely endeared. Your eyes fall to the paper in his hands.

“It’s about banthas. It says that both females and males have a pair of spiralling horns, and they grow a knob a year. So you can tell the age of banthas by how curly their horns are,” you read out loud. “Huh, I didn’t know that.”

“Interesting,” Cal remarks with a short nod of his head. He chews some more on the candy while inspecting the drawing of the bantha on the wrapper. He seems to like them a lot. In fact, he goes back to the table and takes a second one. He asks you what they’re called again, saying he will probably order some more for himself.

Flipping yet another pancake, you tell him their name and smile to yourself, glad you managed to introduce something nice and colourful into his life. Not that being an Inquisitor wasn’t fun… was it? Truthfully, you have no idea how they feel about what they do out there. You’ve tried getting something out of Cal, but whenever the topic of his work comes up, he shuts you out. You also try not to listen too closely to the gory details of their work that are talked about in quick whispers in the hallways. Either way, you like to think that you broke whatever monotony there could be for Cal, even if only a little bit. Maybe he even looks forward to your moments together, as you do.

The Inquisitor asks what the other jar with the herbs is. You explain that it’s actually leaves for an infusion, and ask if he could put the kettle on.

Suddenly this whole moment feels strangely domestic, and you reprimand your heart for yet another beat it just skipped. It’s just a normal hangout between… colleagues. Making pancakes and having tea. Absolutely normal, strictly professional behaviour, yes.

You flip the last pancake and watch as Cal stands up to get back to the kitchen, but when he puts the jar with the tea leaves back on the table without really looking, his bare hand grazes your bracelet. With a sharp breath through his teeth, he suddenly tenses up, and his gaze is fixed on some spot behind you, without really focusing on anything. You’re not sure what’s happening, but he’s completely frozen up, and you start panicking.

After turning off the heat on the stove, you hurry to stand in front of the Inquisitor, unsure what to do. You call his name repeatedly, but he doesn’t react. Your hand comes up to the side of his arm but you hesitate, stopping just before touching him. Looking up at him, you try calling his name again; still no reaction. So you don’t really have a choice. You place your hand on his upper arm and give him a gentle shake.

“Cal,” you call yet again. “Cal, what’s wrong?”

He takes a big gulp of air, as if he had forgotten to breathe all this time. After blinking a couple of times, it seems he’s back with you, and his eyes dart back to yours, boring into your skull with an intensity that takes you off guard. You’re quick to remove your hand from him and instinctively take a step back to give him some space.

“A-Are you okay?” you ask. “You just spaced out really hard for a moment.”

“Yeah I’m- I’m fine,” he replies, and it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him stutter. “It was… something occurred to me that really took me by surprise, is all.”

“… Right,” you stretch out the word, waiting for him to explain what he meant further, but he reverts completely back to normal in an instant.

“You asked me to put the kettle on, right?” he asks and is already on his way to the kitchen.

“Uhm, yeah,” you follow him with your gaze, confused, then remember an important detail, so you join him in the kitchen. “Oh, but don’t let it boil. That will ruin the leaves. Just gotta heat up the water.”

“Got it.”

— — —

After some more preparations, you’re both sat at the table, and you show him how to eat the pancakes. They’re not like the thick, small pancakes he knows. These ones are larger in diameter and very thin. You demonstrate how to evenly apply the blue spread, stack the cubes of fruit you prepped, then roll up the pancakes like a tube and pick it up in your hands.

“Ta-da,” you exclaim. “And now, enjoy.”

Taking a big bite, you squeal at how good it tastes. It’s been ages since you’ve had this!

Cal imitates what you did earlier, putting together his own pancake tube, and takes a bite as well. Even he can’t help the low moan that escapes through his nose at this fantastic combination. You giggle at the sight, enjoying it immensely that you get to see all these sides to him that probably no one else has seen. Once more, your brain is invaded by the thought of what else there might be to Inquisitor Cal Kestis. If he allowed you to lower wall after wall, layer after layer�� what would you discover?

You shake your head to rid yourself of the images starting to form. Nope, can’t go there.

Instead, you decide to show him how the tea is brewed. You grab a small cup and pour some tea leaves in there, which are chopped much more finely than other loose tea Cal has seen. Then you place the special straw that came in the box in the cup. Cal has never seen something like it; it’s essentially a metal tube that is flat at the top and ends in a bulbous shape at the bottom full of little holes.

“So, let me get this straight,” he starts once he understands the mechanics behind your concoction. “Instead of putting the contained leaves in water and then removing them to drink the tea, you just put loose leaves in the water and filter it through the straw to drink the tea?”

“Essentially, yes!”

“That’s so many extra steps…”, Cal sighs, bringing his hand up to hold his temple.

“It’s literally the same,” you laugh. “Just in a different order.”

Pouring hot water into the cup, careful not to overspill it, you offer the cup to him.

“The things you make me do…” he says under his breath, taking the cup and giving it a tentative sniff.

“Oh please,” you say teasingly, and a grin spreads on your face as you prop up your chin on your elbows. “As if you’re not having the time of your life today. I saw how many candies you ate earlier.”

Cal’s eyes dart down to your lips and back up so quickly that you miss it. With a defeated sigh, he gives the tea a try, grimacing at the bitter taste. You chuckle.

“It certainly is an acquired taste, but give it a chance. It gets better with time, trust me.” Kinda like you, you think.

He looks at the cup and back at you, kinda lost on what to do now.

“You’re supposed to suck on the straw until there’s no more water left, then you pass it back and I pour another one,” you explain.

“So many extra steps,” he repeats with a playful shake of his head, but he does as you said, if only to humour you. Once the straw makes the typical noise of there not being any more liquid at the bottom of a cup, he passes it back to you. With a smile, you pour more water into it, and have a drink yourself. He seems a bit shocked about that.

“Oh yeah, this is a drink passed around in a group, and everyone drinks from the same straw…,” you explain. Not to sound like a 12-year-old, a voice in your head says, but that just was an indirect kiss with an Inquisitor. You clear your throat. “Sorry, I guess I should have asked for a second straw so we could both use one each. I was going to offer another round of tea to you after I’m done with this one, as it usually goes, but if it makes you uncomfortable…”

Cal straightens up in his seat in surprise at your words.

“Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

“You don’t like sharing cutlery and stuff like that, right?” you ask, now confused as well, thinking back to when he clearly grabbed another spoon to try the spread.

“Oh, uhm, that’s… never mind.”

He fidgets with his fingers for a second, but when he notices you watching him, he hides his hands under the table. You merely hum in response, taking another sip. Is he… nervous? The mood seems to have shifted again and now you’re completely lost as to what’s going on. All those years of training and studying, yet this man before you remains a mystery.

The rest of the evening is spent eating pancakes and drinking tea, holding a pleasant conversation, albeit a superficial one. At times, it feels like his eyes are completely fixed on you, but within seconds, it’s like he can’t even look at you.

Concluding you’ve overstayed your welcome, you offer to quickly wash up, then be on your way. He merely nods and helps to bring all the dishes to the counter, then goes back to the table. You assume it’s to get another candy from the box. But you don’t mind; you offered to wash up after all.

Silence envelops the whole room, the only sound being the water coming from the tap. As you’re putting the last of the dishes on the little drying rack, you sigh. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea after all. Full of questions and doubts, you dry your hands on the towel, fully set on ending the evening by thanking him for getting the things in the first place, saying you had a good time and keeping your goodbyes short. You aren’t even sure if you’ll manage to appear here with a straight face for dinner tomorrow after everything that happened today, the problem being mainly the things playing out in your own head.

Being so deep in thought, you don’t notice the presence behind you, so when you turn around, you’re almost nose to nose with Cal. You can’t help the surprised little “ah, kriff!” that escapes you at his sudden appearance. With the counter behind you though, there’s nowhere for you to back away to, and Cal isn’t budging from where he stands.

“Don’t forget this,” he says in a low voice and holds up your bracelet, which you had left on the table earlier. He’s so close that you can feel his soft breaths on your face.

“R-right, thanks.”

Looking anywhere but at the Inquisitor, you take the piece of jewellery and put it on your wrist. It takes you a couple of tries though, because your fingers are trembling. In fear, anticipation or something else, you don’t really know. You fumble for a moment until you finally manage to secure the clasp. Cal however, is still standing right in front of you, his hands now coming up to rest on the counter on either side of you. You don’t dare to breathe.

“Uhm, what’s going on?” you ask in an impossibly small voice.

“I think you know.”

It takes every last drop of courage in your body, but you scrape it all together and put it into lifting your eyes to look at Cal. And when your gaze meets his, the breath is knocked out of your lungs entirely. He’s looking down at you so intensely, so hungry, you can’t even begin to describe what you’re feeling. Your brain is long gone, you realise, so now you’re entirely at the mercy of what Cal does and whatever physical reaction that gets out from you. And it seems he’s very much aware of this, enjoying the state you find yourself in, if that tiny side smile is anything to go by as he leans in next to your head. You go completely stiff.

“If you want me to back off, tell me now,” he says directly into your ear.

You take a shaky breath, and the last of the voices in your head all but screaming at you to get out of there is abruptly shut up. Anything and everything in your mind and body is Cal Kestis right now, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s using some Force mind trick on you or if this is all you. That thought dissipates instantaneously though when you feel Cal’s breath tickle your ear, still waiting for your response. You merely shake your head, and it’s so subtle he probably wouldn’t have caught it if he didn’t have his face right next to yours.

With his cheek now against yours, you can feel him smile. Properly smile.

“Good,” is all he says, and before you know it, his lips are on yours.

His arms snake around your waist, pressing your body into his, and he devours you with such ferocity that you need a moment to regain control in your limbs. Once you do, your hands are all over him. One fists the shirt at his back, the other goes into the hair at the nape of his neck and you give it a gentle, tentative pull. The groan that leaves his lips is intoxicating, and you know right then and there that there’s no going back from this. Not tonight, not ever. This is all it took for you to know you’re officially addicted to Cal Kestis.

He tilts his head to deepen the kiss further, his tongue pressing against your own and pushing both your hips into the counter behind you. You can’t help the low moan that escapes you. Any other day you would have felt embarrassed, but today you don’t care. You’re making out with a kriffin’ Inquisitor and it’s great. As if he could hear your thoughts, Cal gives your bottom lip a nip, starting to leave a trail of bites and licks along your jaw, while his hands slide to the backside of your thighs. Before you can process what he’s doing, you're being lifted onto the free counter space like you weigh nothing, with Cal standing between your legs. One of his hands slowly moves further up your thigh, and your whole body feels like it’s on fire.

Suddenly, something occurs to you, and with a breathless “wait” you tilt your head to the side to take a breather and try to regain any rational thought you may have left. You’re both panting heavily, and while he looks openly annoyed at your interruption, he places one last kiss on the corner of your mouth, then backs away a bit to let you take a break.

“What,” he finally says, and it’s less of a question and more of an impatient bark, as you still haven’t said anything.

Your brain is going at a thousand miles an hour, there’s too much input from everywhere, but you still manage to find the words somehow.

“I just- This is- Not that I’m not enjoying this immensely, but… why? All of a sudden?” you ask, finally feeling like you’ve caught your breath again.

Cal huffs with a slight roll of his eyes, running a hand through his hair, and while you probably should be a little bit offended at his gesture, you’re suddenly way too focused on what you have the chance of witnessing: the way his hair messily falls into his face once he drops his hand. The clear blush adorning his freckled and scarred cheeks, nose and even the tips of his ears. The puffy lips, mouth still parted. The backlighting coming from the main room behind him almost gives him an ethereal glow, making the golden hue in his eyes stand out even more. You commit the image to memory.

“The bracelet, when I touched it earlier,” he starts explaining, but when he sees you just as dishevelled as him, he decides he can’t be bothered right now. “It’s called psychometry, I’ll explain it to you later.”

With an impatient grunt, he just picks you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist.

“Right now there are more pressing matters,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

You realise you’re being carried towards the door that’s always been closed every time you come over. When you both approach, they slide open with a hiss and you’re met with his bedroom, as you’ve always speculated that’s what lies behind it.

Letting you fall backwards onto his large bed rather unceremoniously, he starts climbing on top of you, but before putting any weight on you, he stops and looks down at you with a serious face.

“Last chance to back out,” he offers.

You can’t help at chuckle, and grin up at him.

“As if.”

Your hands shoot up to hold him by the collar. You have no idea where the confidence even comes from at this point.

“I want you, Cal,” you say breathlessly, and that’s all it takes for him to be on top of and all over you again. Let’s just say pancakes and tea aren't the only treats you’ll be getting today.

— — —

A/N 2: inq!cal has a sweet tooth, honk if you agree

A/N 3: where my palitos de la selva gang at B)

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover

#goose feathers #cal kestis x reader #star wars cal x reader #inquisitor cal kestis x reader #jedi fallen order x reader #star wars x reader #listen if milk is blue in star wars #it makes sense for dulce de leche to be dark blue right?#let’s just go with it #look at me bringing irl cultural aspects into my writing wow

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deakyjoe · 1 year

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Somebody’s Watching Me Part 12

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (“Sarge”, she/her, British, backstory)

Category: coworkers to friends to lovers with grumpy x sunshine dynamic/idiots in love

Summary: Can the two of you fix the damage that has been done? Or is it too late?

Warnings: angst, fluff, talks of injuries, British slang/terminology, strong language, mask is off

Word count: 1.4k (a baby in comparison to other parts)

A/N: Took a break from writing this series, mostly because I was burned out and had lots of uni work to be doing, but also because I needed time to think the ending through to give you all the best of what I’m capable of. It’s not as long as other parts but I feared that if I didn’t write it now then I would never write it. It’s pretty much where I always intended the story to go, just with a lot less conversation than originally planned. There will still be an epilogue after this but for now… enjoy!

When Ghost awoke, blinded by fluorescent hospital lights, and he saw Price standing at the foot of his bed with a deep-set frown... well, he knew things weren't good. It didn't help that you were nowhere to be seen. He didn't expect you to be fawning over him and nursing him back to health or anything. But no trace of you in the hospital room at all was not an encouraging sight.

"Am I dead?" Simon said gruffly, immediately coughing as his lungs clearly had something wrong with them.

Price scoffed. "You wish."

"Damn." He attempted to sit up straight, groaning when pain stabbed through his torso. "Ah, what the fuck?"

"I'd be careful if I were you. You were shot. Several times."

"Nothing new then." He sighed and looked at Price again, a grave look crossing his face. "Where is she?"

The captain hesitated for a moment before replying. "Home."

Shit, that definitely wasn't good.

"Why?" Simon didn't really want to know, too scared of the truth, but he needed to know.

"She was severely injured. Needed better medical attention than we could give her and then some time off once she recovers. She's home now but still in remission." Price checked his watch quickly, clearing his throat when he saw the time.

"Got somewhere to be?" Ghost asked, a sarcastic inflection in his voice.

The captain nodded. "Yes, actually. Already late from waiting for your lazy arse to wake up."

He only grunted in reply and waved his superior out of the room. "Go. I'll be fine.”

"You can go home to her once you've healed a bit more. For now, rest." And with that, Price walked out of the room leaving Simon in silence.

It was okay. He liked silence. Well, more he liked the lack of talking. People talked far too much about insignificant things. Strangely, he missed the sound of your voice chattering about insignificant things. He pushed that thought away and attempted to sleep for a while.

At home, in your flat, you were sick of friends coming over to visit you. Each one seemed to have some form of baked good or casserole and your refrigerator was full to the brim already. You hadn't even been home that long.

The sheer mass of people doting over you was becoming overwhelming in the most annoying way possible. You didn't need them constantly caring for you. Sure, the sentiment was nice enough but you were used to looking after yourself and healing independently. Usually you did it in the (un)comfort of a military hospital or medical tent. Unfortunately for you, you'd been sent home this time and had had no choice in informing your friends of your sudden return back. They just suddenly knew you were there and they were more than willing to help.

"I don't need you to give me a sponge bath." You'd told one with a roll of your eyes, still thinking about earlier in the day when you'd had to tell another that it was perfectly fine for you to drink apple juice and not stick to a strict diet of water.

Honestly, a part of you was enjoying being at home and having time to relax. Even though the cause of it was a little extreme, being able to sit on your sofa all day and watch reruns of old sitcoms as you made your way through every dish stacked in your fridge was nice. Almost... fun.

A part of you longed for something though. Simon. Obviously him. You craved to know how he was doing. When you'd first woken up, a nurse had simply told that he was alive and nothing else. Alive meant nothing. You didn't even know if his condition was stable.

You were worried, to say the least. And even Price wasn't willing to divulge any further information when you'd pressed him for it over the phone. He'd just mumbled something vague and moved on to asking you how you were doing.

It was frustrating. That was for sure.

The days passed and you grew restless, itching to get out of the house again. But you were sensible and followed the suggested instructions from the several doctors that had all agreed that you needed in order to heal properly. It was just a shame that it took so long to happen.

On day, what felt like, one billion of staying at home, there was a knock at the door. And after you'd taken a minute or two shuffling towards it, shouting out a stream of reassurances that you were on your way, you were utterly shocked to find your lieutenant on the doorstep.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before a ridiculous sentiment left your mouth.

"Jesus, is this like those hallucinations you get just before dying?"

Simon said nothing, just the twitch of the corner of his mouth indicated that he had even heard you, and outstretched his fist to you.

In his hand, was an apple.

Specifically, one of the good apples from the farmers' market.

You looked up at him in confusion.

"Peace offering."

That explained it. So, you took it from him and opened the door wider to let him in. You weren't about to turn down a good apple or a peace offering.

Once you'd both settled yourselves into comfortable positions on the sofa, you wincing a few times and growing jealous that he seemed to have healed so quickly, you really took your time to look at him.

You tilted your head to the side and raked your eyes over him. "You're nervous."

"Am I?" His eyebrows raised a fraction.

"Yes." You nodded.

"How can you tell?"

"You scratch at the scars on your face when something is making you anxious."

"Hm." His eyes squinted at that observation, obviously not previously aware that he had that tell.

You moved on, not willing to dwell on that. "Why are you here?"

"Visiting an old friend."

You laughed sarcastically. "Oh, really?"

He shrugged, still as frustrating as ever. "You should've left me behind."

You'd be shocked if he hadn't been so self-sacrificial in previous times.

"Why would I do that?" You asked, lacing your voice with a mock innocent tone.

"Would've been the smart decision." He snapped.

So you shot right back. "Maybe I'm not smart."

"Yes, you are. You're just stubborn."

The words he'd once told you came tumbling out of your mouth. "A stubborn brat you mean?"

"That too."

You laughed again, shaking your head in disbelief. "You're right. I am stubborn. And I couldn't let you die. The idea of you... I can't stand it. So I let you live for selfish reasons. Alright?"

"You should have let me die."

"Shut up, Simon. That was never going to happen." You rolled your eyes at him and grit your teeth when a shooting pain stabbed through your side as you adjusted your position on the sofa.

Simon's hands raised for a second as if about to help you before he lowered them again.

Instead, he asked a question.

"Why not?"

You looked at him to see if he was being serious. He was.

"You know why."

"Maybe I don't."

You sighed. He was so difficult sometimes. Yet, you gave in.

"I..." You trailed off into thought.

But Simon wasn't going to let it go so easily. "You what?"

"I, y'know, I feel..." Your hands waved around as if hoping to grip a coherent answer from the air.

"Feel what?" The slight raise of an eyebrow hinted that he knew exactly what you wanted to say.

You sighed in defeat. "You know what I'm trying to get across here, Simon."

"I want to hear you say it."

"I feel for you. Have feelings. More than platonic. I... care... for you." You cringed at your own clumsiness, wondering when you'd lost your ability to fully communicate with words.

"I know."

You punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Cocky shit."

"I also care for you."

"I know." You scoffed teasingly.

He just repeated your words back to you. "Cocky shit."

The smiles that broke out across both of your faces were indescribable.

Yeah, the two of you were being slightly more awkward about this than usual but it was never going to be easy to just jump right back in to what you used to have. Smaller steps would have to be taken. And you were fine with that. As was he. You’d get there eventually, it was only a matter of time. After all, some things were just meant to happen.

A/N: Thank you all so much for sticking with me through my hiatus! I’m sorry this is a quick resolution but the epilogue is still on the way.

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n0v4t33z · 1 year

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The Syndicate - Chapter 3: Soft Hearted Criminal

Pairings: Choi San X Female Reader, Park Seonghwa X Female Reader, Ateez X Female Reader

Summary: Y/N is a Detective with a promising future in the police department until she's kidnapped by the infamous mafia boss Choi San and from him, she learns the dark secrets her superior has been hiding the whole time so she teams up with him in order to put a stop to it.

Genre: Lots of angst, Romance, Crime Fiction, Psychological Drama

Word Count: 6k

Tags/Warnings: For Mature Audiences, Language, Graphic Violence, Mentions of Illegal activities (i.e Kidnapping, extortion, assassination etc.), y/n gets roughed up by Wooyoung like twice , Slow Burn, Fluff sometimes, Work In Progress, Non-Idol AU, Mafia AU, Very suggestive at times, y/n cries alot, y/n having inner turmoil, Ateez being bad boys, Wooyoung and Yeosang are a little mean in this story tbh, Guns, Gunshot wounds, Assassination attempt(s) ,mentions death and acts of violence

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Spotify Playlist🎵 | Series Masterlist📝

Author's Note 💌 : I was supposed to post this in the beginning of August but I ended up getting a little impatient so I'm posting it now lol so I hope you guys enjoy this chapter despite how slow it is, I promise the really good chapters are coming soon! -N

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆.

The next day after mindlessly sitting there bored out of my mind I hear a light knock on the door only to see Seonghwa quietly opening the door. He gives me a small smile and mouths the words “Hey” Funnily enough I’m happy to see a criminal keep his word and not lie for once but it also doesn’t mean that I’m completely fond of the guy. Although I guess I can say so far from what he’s shown me I can mildly trust him enough to want to see him again just so I don’t get bored. “You kept your promise..” He presses his finger on his lips and says in a low voice “I told you I’d be back. I came here for a bit because I wanted to make sure you were okay.” I dryly laugh “Oh wow I- Yeah. I’m alright, a bit sore but I’m fine.” He looks at the ground for a few seconds then his gaze meets mine with a small friendly smile “So I brought you a book, I don’t know if you like to read or not but I thought maybe you’d want something to read while you’re here.” He reaches into his jacket and hands me a book, the title being “Dracula”. A smile grows onto my features admiring the cover of the book and back at Seonghwa “Thank you, I was being driven insane in here not having anything to do.” He lowers his voice “When you’re done just let me know and I can bring you another one.” He glances down at his phone looking at the time then he looks back at me slightly disappointed “I have to go now, I’m sorry it was too fast. Maybe next time I’ll be here a little while longer I don’t want San to-” There's a sudden knock at the door in which Seonghwa and I look at each other in shock. “Detective-” San enters the room and looks at both of us then back at Seonghwa “Uh? Aren’t you supposed to be out?” Seonghwa hurriedly gets up “Oh yes, my apologies I was just here dropping a book off for the Detective. She seemed bored so I thought maybe she’d like something to read.” He hums and walks over towards Seonghwa gently patting his shoulder “Make sure not to forget about the other person I told you about.” San glances at Seonghwa with a knowing glance. What was that about? Then again I don’t expect them to tell me anything, I am the prisoner here anyway. Seonghwa gets up and nods “No worries I haven’t forgotten I’ll let you know what I find..” Seonghwa looks at me with a half smile and exits the room leaving San and I alone.

“Good afternoon Detective, are you doing okay?” I shrug “I guess, I’m just sore. Jongho came by earlier this morning to give me some pain killers so I’m okay right now.” San fixes one of his rolled up sleeves. “That’s great to hear that you’re being taken care of.“ I stare at my lap not wanting to meet San’s eyes “It would be nicer if I could be let go.” San chuckles “Sorry Detective, but I can’t. Not until that issue with your superior is fixed” Of course he can’t, his revenge is his priority. “So you’re forcing me to stay just because you say so? What? Do you want me to get to know you or something too?” He shrugs “I don’t know about that, but if I'm being honest I think you know far more about me than I even know about myself.” I scoff ”That’s not true.” San lifts my chin up and looks me in the eye walking up dangerously close in front of me “You think I didn’t read all your reports and the file you have on me? You specifically stated my height and the previous homes that my family and I have lived in, including the ones before my dad became wealthy. Not many people know about my childhood home, the very detailed reports on the crime scenes I’ve been involved in just tells me that you dedicated most of your time investigating me.” Okay, I have a hard copy of his file on hand but I totally forgot I also have one in the database too just in case. Fuck, so that’s how he read it. I turn my face away and grumble ”I’m just doing my job, it’s not because you’re interesting or anything.” He chuckles “i see, well your obsession with me says otherwise.” I snap my head in his direction and raise my eyebrow “Excuse me? My only obsession is to put you in jail.” He smiles and leans in a few inches away from me “If you think you can do it, go for it. From where you’re sitting though I’d like to see you try.” I glare at him and swing my handcuffed fists at him, and without any struggle he catches my fists in mid air with his hand “If you want to hurt me you might want to be a little faster than that.” His gaze going from an amused one to a darker expression. Did I really forget who this man is? Choi San, the man wrecking havoc not only here in Ulwood but in my life as of now. The man who gets to choose what my fate is and here I am trying to hit him. So smart y/n.

I nervously swallow and lower my fists onto my lap “I-I’m sorry.” He lets out an exasperated sigh and runs his hand through his dark hair “How about we start over?” I awkwardly force a smile “Oh, uh okay.” What is wrong with me?! If I piss him off the only way I'm getting out of here is dead. “That doesn’t mean to be awkward, just be yourself.” How am I supposed to be myself when I’m literally in fear of whether or not he’s going to do something to me? Gosh, I’m going to have to just play along. I awkwardly lean back onto the headboard behind me “Fine. Why are you getting so comfortable?” San sits next to me and gives me a dimpled smile “Why not?” I nervously laugh “I mean I’m sorry but seeing you get so comfortable on my bed is just off putting.” I fidget with the chain on my handcuffs feeling the coolness of the metal between my fingers. San responds “You’re right, I guess it is kind of weird for a cop to see the criminal they’re after’s humanity.” The humanity in San? You’d think the man lost that long ago seeing his file. “Yeah, but I guess we can both learn from each other.” I force a smile and continue “So, um, What about your role model? Do you have one?” He glances at me amusingly “Wow detective these questions- Do you usually talk to people like this or?” Unable to cross my arms because of the handcuffs I roll my eyes “You literally kidnapped me, how am I supposed to talk to you like I'm not your whole ass prisoner?” San scoots closer towards me “I make you nervous don’t I?” There he goes again acting like that. “What? No, you just annoy me.” He looks deep into my eyes smirking, my ears and cheeks feeling very warm “ Hm, I don’t? Then why are your cheeks bright red?” He asks with a hint of playfulness in his voice. I thickly swallow and shake my head “No reason, it’s just really warm in here.” He chuckles “Oh, is it?”

He reaches over and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear “You’re very pretty Detective.” His cat like eyes turn into crescents when he smiles causing my heart to begin to race “Thank you” I respond trying to pass off unaffected by his charm but utterly failing. He gently brushes his fingers against the bruise left on my cheek making me slightly pull away. He gives me a slightly sad expression and sighs “I wish things would have turned out different and I didn’t have to resort to this type of thing.” Nervously I reach over to gently set my hand on his forearm, as annoying as he is now's my chance. “You know you can stop this right? Just let me go and I will see everything you need to be taken care of will happen, I’ll make sure to have the charges against you dropped.” He looks down at my hand holding his arm then looks back at me “No, I just wish it wasn’t you who has to go through this but unfortunately your partner wasn’t enough to bring Lee's attention or it would have been him who would have been taken.” I blink slightly taken aback and he continues “So, I’m sorry Detective. I just have to do this for my father because as an answer to your question from earlier, my father is my role model.. I know he probably wouldn’t have agreed with how I’m handling it but to me it’s what makes sense considering that bastard’s lack of loyalty towards my father. ” He’s crazy, but unfortunately I understand where he’s coming from. “I get it, but don’t you think he’ll be humiliated even more if he gets arrested? I’d like to add that in prison he’ll be a constant target because he’s a former cop.” San smiles “I’ll think about it” He’s lying, he’s just trying to change the subject.

“You know, I don’t know you on a personal level despite how much I know about you on file but what I do know is right now your hand is being forced. I know you don’t want to do any of this.” Maybe playing good cop as much as I can will help. He looks at the ground almost like he’s lost in thought “Yeah, something like that but not quite.” I lean in a little closer in hopes he hears me a little better “So tell me, is the Choi San you show the world the same one at home with his family, or is he different?” He glances up at me meeting my eyes “Actually, he’s different. I’ll go as far to admit that I have several versions of myself. How the world around me sees me, how my family and those closest to me see me, and lastly how I truly am.” I’m not surprised but that’s honestly sad. He probably had big shoes to fill when he took over for his father. “I see, so who is the true Choi San then? Is he kind?” Let’s see if I can get him to open up a little more. He nods “He is actually. I’m just normal, I’m nothing special. I only took over because I had to, Wooyoung suggested it would be good for my character since he thought I was too nice sometimes. Unfortunately after I took over I was not only under my family’s pressure but also under our allies’ pressure to continue to be just as equally harsh if not more than my father. I knew from the moment I took over that handling things peacefully was no longer an option out fear that my lack of experience would make them think they could just walk all over me.” I can tell he’s holding back, he doesn’t want to just say it. I can see why it would be hard for him to admit. “So what you’re saying is that the reason your crimes are so violent and harsh is because you’re under inmense pressure by the people who surround you to be more like your father, not because you want to right?” Gosh, I just feel so bad for him. That must be a heavy burden to carry all by himself. “Yes, kind of.” I press my lips into a smile “Well, just know you can always talk to me as long as I’m here. I’ll listen to you, I know it seems ironic with me being a cop and all but I guess since I’m here it doesn’t really count since I can’t really do anything..” He reaches over and removes my handcuffs “You’re right, you’re just a normal girl behind that detective facade you put up.” I get up and stretch my arms and legs “And you’re a regular guy hiding behind the mask of an evil mafia kingpin” He smirks “You’re very poetic Detective.”

He reaches over for my hand and pulls me to sit down again only he doesn’t let go of my hand and just holds it “You know, I don’t think I was supposed to you all of that.” I shake my head “Don’t worry, I’m not going to use anything against you if that’s what you’re thinking.” He lets go of my hand and slightly narrows his eyes “Okay, so how do you do it?” I furrow my brows “Uh, what do you mean? Do what?” Is he catching on? Oh gosh “You know, get people to feel so comfortable around you. Is that a cop technique or something?” It's not what I thought he was going to ask but what a relief. “Honestly I just treat people like humans, that’s it there's really no trick there.” From the corner of my eyes I notice him intently watching me and as much as I don't want to admit this, looking at his general direction is making me really shy, I feel like I shouldn't be looking at him "You are very sweet considering the type of situation you're in." I dryly laugh "You know being mean won't do me any favors and the last thing I want is for me to have to deal with Wooyoung or worse, a pissed off San. So I'd rather not." He chuckles, why is he looking at me like that? He's supposed to be my enemy why is it making me feel this way. “ Didn't you just now try to beat me with your fists and you say I'm the scary one?" I roll my eyes playfully while gently patting his shoulder "Yeah, well I'm not the criminal here sir." He blinks " What? So am I really that scary?” I nod letting out a nervous laugh “Yeah, most of my colleagues would always tell me how they’d be terrified if they ever had to face you.” San’s tongue touches the inside of his cheek looking a bit satisfied “Ah, so does that include you?” I press my lips into a straight line and I shrug “As long as you’re not pissed.” He gives me a dimpled smile and reaches over to pat my head “You don’t need to worry about that then, I really like talking to you so I doubt you’ll ever piss me off enough for me to react like that.” So as long as I’m good or Captain Lee doesn’t fuck everything up then I should be good. Stay on his good side. He lays down patting next to him “Lay with me” I thickly swallow “Um, may I ask why?” He pulls my hand enough to lay me down next to him “No reason, I’ve just heard people have really nice conversations like this.” He glances at me from the corner of his eye “I promise nothing will happen, I won’t touch you if that’s what you’re wondering. I just want to be San for a bit and have a conversation with someone.” I nod “Okay, fair enough” I lay back and turn to him only to realize he was already looking at me a little different than when we first met. Almost like his gaze soften up. I’m hoping being nice to him keeps me in good graces with him so that I can eventually leave this place.

So I think it’s been a month or so since at this point I’ve lost my sense of time. San, Jongho, and Seonghwa are mostly the people I talk to, especially San. He comes in at least a few times everyday to talk and hang out. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that some dark twisted part of me actually thinks he’s kind of cute or at least his more human side of him. Everyone else still kind of scares me especially Wooyoung so I barely say anything to the rest of them and usually staying silent when they enter the room. I'd also be lying if I didn't admit San and I started flirting a little? Okay, more like banter but it leads to the same thing, feelings. Although I'm still not sure if he actually means it or if he's just messing with me to get me to open up. Knowing him, I won't be surprised if he pulls a fast one on me because of his reputation and is just messing with me because he thinks it's a joke.

I sit in bed and I look at the empty dark gray wall grumbling under my breath “I have no idea what’s happening, I just want to leave. It’s been like a month and I already feel like I'm losing it being stuck in here.” I hug myself and bury my face in my knees and I silently begin to tear up from the overwhelming feeling of being homesick. I hate Captain Lee for being so selfish, I’m the one having to go through so much from almost getting my chest caved in to being threatened while he’s back at the station thinking that he’s lucky not having to be in my position and having the whole police force protect him. I really hope he makes the right decision or I won't forgive him for it.

About an hour goes by of me on and off crying ends up with me laying down silently staring at the door until I hear the door unlock. I expected someone else other than San but to my pleasant surprise it was him. Right as he comes in I notice how eerily silent he was, did something happen? HE 's acting quite different than normal. He sets down the food and sits next to me “Hey, I talked to Lee on the phone earlier but I have bad news.” He uncuffs me and holds both my hands giving me an expression with sadness in his eyes, seeing his face like that made my stomach drop. This is not going to be good. He lets out a long sigh and says “He isn’t going to expose himself and he’d rather have you turn up dead than renounce.” I feel nauseous.

I fucking knew it. I ball up my fists and instantaneously my eyes well up with tears making my vision blurry. I get up beginning to pace back and forth, my body feeling like I needed to walk out the anxiousness and anger “That fucking bastard… Now I have to die all because he wants to keep his dirty work under wraps.” I slam my fists onto the surprisingly hard wall completely ignoring the wave of pain going through my hands and wrists. “He fucking promised to get me out of here!!” I turn my back to the wall and slowly fall to the floor crying my eyes out. San walks over to me and sits on the floor next to me and holds my hand gently stroking my shoulder "Look, you’re not going to die." He pauses for a bit almost like he was gathering his thoughts a little. "We’ll make him think you are but you’ll be okay I promise.” I look at San with my eyes still glistening from my tears “What caused you to change your mind about me dying?” He shrugs then lifts up my hand up to his lips and gently kisses my hand. “ Well I was never intending to kill you. I was thinking and I came to the conclusion that yes, I could have easily killed you but those eyes of yours-" He pauses again almost like he was psyching himself up to finish the sentence he started "Those eyes, they made me so weak that evreytime you look at me it makes me really nervous. Almost like if I couldn’t see them anymore I wouldn’t forgive myself." He reaches over and gently squeezes my thigh "Besides, every time I’d come over and hang out with you I'd leave feeling so happy. So happy, that for those few hours I'm with you everything seems perfect.”

My heart isn’t beating faster, my heart isn’t beating faster, I swear it isn’t, I need to get ahold of myself. I look over at his perfectly chiseled face and I notice something I never really did before and it was that gaze that gave away exactly how he felt, the way his gaze lovingly connected to mine without hesitation made my heart race like I ran a marathon. I wrap any arms around San’s waist while I rest my head on his chest “Thank you, I promise to help avenge your father’s death and I'll also make sure to give you back what belongs to you. I owe you.” He looks down at me, pushes a few strands of hair behind my ear and gently strokes my cheek “No, you don’t owe me anything. The last thing I want is for you to think you do. I just don't want you to get hurt because of me.” I shake my head and I grab San’s hand “Look, I was wrong about you. I admit in the beginning I hated you, then after you told me what happened with your dad I sympathized with you but now that it’s been like a month since I’ve been here and that I've gotten to know you a lot more, I admire you. Even if I’m still scared of the type of job you have I've realized we’re not that different, we both have dangerous jobs and for the both of us we both lost someone due to tragedy. You, your dad and me, my grandfather.” I gently stroke San’s hand with my thumb.

“I know that deep down you’re not evil, you’re just working with what life has given you and I won’t judge you for it. I just want to let you know that I'll be here to help, I won’t just stand here and let Captain Lee get away with everything he’s done and not be punished for his actions. Nothing is going to happen to me, if anything now you’ll have knowledge on the police and their tactics and I know for a fact you won’t turn that down.” I give San a small smile then he looks at me and gently rubs his thumb on my cheek “Hm, you’re right I can’t turn that down but I also have something I want to ask you that I hope you don’t turn down either.” Is he going to let me leave? Maybe he feels bad now? “Yes, of course what is it?” San looks deeply into my eyes for a few seconds without saying anything, and slowly he gently tilts my head to look up at him. “Will you be mine?”

Hey, what? Woah. I mean I like him. But should I do it? Will being with him help me or will it seal my fate? Does that mean I can come and go as I please? Maybe that'll help me be trusted a lot more. It's the only chance I've got now. I nod and gently kiss his hand while I hold his hand onto my face “I would love to.” He slowly leans in to kiss me then he pulls back and gently caresses my bottom lip with his thumb “People like me aren’t supposed to have someone like you, someone so caring and understanding. So I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have someone like you.” It actually happened. Me, a former detective is now dating the Boss of the mob group I used to investigate. What a weird turn of events. I can't be too vulnerable though, despite how I'm feeling at the moment I have to remember all his crimes and that with one false move I could end up with them, another name added to the list of corpses Choi San has accumulated on his file. So as twisted as this is it may work in my favor so I can escape.

I lovingly stare into his beautiful dark eyes “I honestly never thought we’d end up together either, but here you are confessing to me. It seems so surreal.” For a few minutes we sit there in silence in each other's arms until San’s radio goes off with Yeosang saying “San, Ito’s replacement is here he wants to talk.” He slightly rolls his eyes in frustration and presses the button on his radio and says “I’ll be there in a bit.” He gets up and then helps me up and sits me down on the bed then he says “I have to go, but I trust you okay? No more handcuffs.” He kisses my forehead and walks over to the door closing the door behind him. Once he's gone I look at my hands and smile “I’m free.” The next step is to make Steven Lee regret he ever threw me under the bus like that, my mother and all my loved ones will suffer over the loss of Detective Y/N but it won't be in vain. I’d rather have everyone I love think I’m dead than for them to know and live with the guilt of knowing that I no longer serve The System. Jongho, Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and San were right. Criminals do have their own reasons as to why they do the things they do. Sadly the easiest and most satisfying way to solve problems is not always the correct way.

“Hey, angel eyes get dressed you’re going to be properly introduced to everyone, the thing is though they don’t know we’re together yet. We have to wait a little longer for that. I just don’t want them to think anything that’s not true.” He walks up to me and hands me a shopping bag full of clothes. “Don’t worry, I understand. You don’t want them to assume we fucked and that’s why I was left alive.” I get up and I walk towards the bathroom, slightly flustered he pushes his glasses up with his middle finger “Uh yeah, that and I kind of never told them that I wasn't ever planning on killing you mostly because I knew there was going to be issues and no one would want to cooperate properly.” I shrug and open the door to the bathroom “Kinda fucked up but, fair enough.” I wonder how much he keeps from them, how much of a front he puts up around them. It's kind of sad now that I think about it. The poor man can never fully be himself and only carefully curated versions of him to help fit a narrative of his choice.

A few minutes later I step out of the bathroom in an all black ensemble some black jeans, a nice plain black top, a leather jacket, and my black high heeled pumps. “You know I look a little dead with these eye bags under my eyes” San walks up to me pulls me close and gently kisses my forehead “You look beautiful to me, angel eyes." He pushes a few strands of hair behind my ear and continues "Besides meeting the guys today we’re also going to go over how we’re going to help you fake your death.” I fix San’s collar holding back a huge smile. “Alright, sounds like a plan.”

San and I walk down the hallway in to a huge conference room except it was more chaotic, maps, notes, and a bunch of other papers sprawled out across the big table. There were also pictures of dozens of people presumably enemies and other rival mafia members. While I look at the pictures a few in particular catch my eye. That’s me, that’s me leaving the station with Chris a week before I was abducted. They followed me everywhere and I had no idea. How did I not notice? Whoever took those pictures was so close, kind of creepy.

I notice all seven of the members in San’s inner circle were here. I’d be lying if I say I'm not scared, because any screw up and I could seriously end up dead in a trash bin. They're all very intimidating just like San himself. San clears his throat “So, i’m sure you guys know the Detective and I've brought her here today because from now on she’s going to be working for me.” Wooyoung and Yeosang give San a surprised face mixed with disappointment. Wooyoung shifts his gaze towards me and glares at me coldly “Why? We literally kidnapped her a month ago. I don’t even think we should even be trusting a cop especially after what happened.” San raises his hand to quiet down Wooyoung and says “You’re right, but Seonghwa, Jongho, Hongjoong and myself have talked to her and she’s reliable. Not to mention she now has a personal vendetta against Lee, so she’s definitely on our side now.” Mingi then says “Okay, what can she do? How does she serve us any purpose besides a pretty face? I know she’s a cop and all but if I'm being honest cops haven’t been very impressive these days and neither was she when we kidnapped her.” Before San could talk I say “Well, besides a pretty face I was trained in both long and short range shooting, and I have a few access codes and I know my way around the police databases. Oh, and about you being able to abduct me In my defense my little detective brain short circuited.” San looks over at Mingi who looked slightly annoyed at the sarcasm tinged answer “There you go questions answered, anyone else?” Everyone stays silent then San smiles “Alright good, so please treat her well she’s one of us now."

Wooyoung whispers something into Yeosang's ear while San continues "Okay, now we’re going to be discussing how we’re going to fake the Detective’s death.” Hongjoong says “You’re really going the extra mile with that aren’t you? Can't she just pass off as a missing person?” San shakes his head “No, because if she does that the police will still consider her alive thus bringing a lot more attention to her trying to find her and since she works for us now we can’t have that. We need to get a little more creative.” After a few hours of careful and meticulous planning a way to fake my death we come up with a solution but it wasn’t one I was too comfortable with and it was taking someone that closely resembles me, remove any identifying features, burn them until they’re unrecognizable, switch my dental records with the deceased and plant my police badge on the body. Sounds easy but unfortunately I know it's not going to be, for anyone, not for the person in place of me, the Aurora syndicate's goons, and myself included. Being on the dark side of justice is not easy, but I owe San for letting me live and I need to teach Captain Lee a lesson for betraying his oath to protect and serve his department. Not to mention he let one of his own to "die" in order to save himself the embarrassment of having to resign as a traitor. Most call it revenge but I call it making it even.

After the meeting, San goes over to his office to get things in order for the plan leaving me to hang out with Seonghwa at the lounge downstairs. “So, you’re staying here?” Seonghwa asks while he takes a sip of some tea that he prepared. I shrug and cross my arms in front of my chest “Yeah San kind of changed his mind after he told me that Captain Lee was going to refuse to come clean. I felt so hurt that I basically told him that Captain Lee and the department were dead to me.” He slowly stirs his tea then he says “Wow so you’re willing to drop your department just like that? Just so you know you won’t ever have to worry about us betraying you, we’re like a family here. Although it’s still a bit off putting having you not be in total isolation and not being in handcuffs.” I rest my head on the lounge's couch arm rest while drawing shapes on it out of habit " Well yeah, I kind of have to at this point. My decision tells you a lot about me. I drop traitors like that with no remorse.”

Seonghwa and I chuckle until I hear footsteps and notice a tall dark haired male extend his hand in my direction “Hello Detective y/ln, sorry for interrupting. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Yunho by the way, we didn’t meet properly prior to the meeting earlier but it’s very nice meeting you.” I shake his hand examining the very tall man before me from the meeting earlier but it’s very nice meeting you.” I shake his hand examining the very tall man before me. He definitely didn’t look like the type of person to be involved in things like this so to say that I’m shocked is an understatement. “Thank you, It’s very nice meeting you too.” He pulls up a chair and sits in front us then says “Detective, did you know that you’re all over the news? They still think Lee is trying to find you, I’m sure they haven’t told the press the whole story yet.” Feeling my hands get cold I tuck my hands under my thighs “Yeah, I don't think they ever will but just wait until they find “my dead body” I’m sure Captain Lee is going to make up some stupid excuse as to why I ended up dead” Seonghwa furrows his eyebrows “So are you going to go completely incognito and leave your past life behind?”

I let out a long sigh and look at the fake Monet painting behind Seonghwa, and with an expressionless face I respond “Yeah, I have to. I’d rather have my family think I died not being a horrible person than know I gave in to the temptation of taking matters into my own hands. without the assistance of the law.” Yunho looks at me with a saddened and serious expression clouding over his features “You’re a former cop we all understand, I’m sure your family never expected this from you. Sometimes to protect what we love the most we have to hide the truth.” I lower my gaze and i nod “Yeah, which is also why I think it’s best you guys call me just y/n since I'm no longer a detective.” They both nod then sipping on his tea carefully Seonghwa says “If that makes you comfortable then go ahead. Don’t worry.” He reaches over to me with his free hand and pats my head continuing his thought "It's also really nice just having you with us." Yunho gives me a warm smile and adds onto Seonghwa's sentiment "Thank you for choosing not to go against us, we really do need your kind of help especially with San's goal of getting rid of Lee. It'll be a nightmare that'll soon end." I press my lips into a small smile "Any person who's got the same enemy in common as I is considered an ally in my book despite the initial differences." Seonghwa nods "I'm glad to know we can count on you, despite how some people might feel about it." Is he referring about the rest of the guys? More specifically Wooyoung? "It's fine, I understand where that fear of them trusting a cop comes from. I'll do my best to show them they can trust me." I'll probably look like a fool trying though, they seem like a very tough crowd to please.

Seonghwa, and Yunho decide to take me downstairs to the basement where Hongjoong was, the same place I was taken to talk to Captain Lee. As expected, as soon as he sees Yunho, Seonghwa and I he groans “What are you guys doing here?” Both Yunho and Seonghwa look at each other then Seonghwa replies with “We figured we’d bring Y/N to come help you with the police databases, Me and Yunho were talking to Y/N how it’s nice to have someone so versatile with us.” Hongjoong stares at me for a few seconds then says “Okay fine, but she can’t touch a computer yet until she proves herself.” I smile and raise my right hand and say “I will after my funeral ceremony I promise.” His eyebrow slightly raises and he says “Don’t promise anything, actions speak louder than words.” Seonghwa gently squeezes Hongjoong’s shoulder and says in a low voice “Come on, San doesn’t just trust anyone remember that.” Hongjoong rolls his eyes and groans “Right.” Seonghwa looks over at me and says in a very stern tone “Please, don’t betray our trust.” He then gives me a half hearted smile and leaves with Yunho leaving me with this grouchy computer genius.

Hongjoong pulls a chair over next to him and pats it “Sit, I need you to guide me with some passcodes, just use my laptop at least there I can keep track of everything you do.” He pulls his laptop out of his backpack and passes me a laptop heavily covered in stickers. A small smile grows onto my features “You like Spongebob too huh?” Concentrated into his work and not removing his focused gaze from the screen he says “Huh? Yeah why?" I shrug opening the laptop “Just asking, I like that show too.” Too weary to continue the conversation he says “Cool.” I slightly roll my eyes. Okay Rude. I begin to work on accessing all the police databases and private records. A few minutes later I successfully finish and I tap Hongjoong’s shoulder “I’m done.” He looks at the screen then at me and clicks his tongue “Oh, wow. Thank you Detective.” I smile “No problem, and just call me y/n. I’m technically not a detective anymore.” He smiles and nods “Okay, I’ll keep that noted, do you mind if I see this?” I nod and he takes the laptop from in front of me. For several minutes I see him reading and looking very concentrated reading whatever he searched up. I suddenly hear the door opening and when I look up I realize It’s Mingi and Wooyoung, neither looked too pleased to see me.

I sigh knowing there was a slight tension not just with Wooyoung and Mingi. I tried to not think about that feeling of self awareness that I was in a building full of people who can just as easily take my life just as easily as they spared it. Don’t get me wrong I like San, but no doubt he still scares me when I remember all the crimes he’s committed. The detective in me doesn’t seem to want to die. “We got the girl Hongjoong, is San done?” My stomach drops as soon as I heard Wooyoung say it in such a nonchalant way. I sit there still unable to process the fact that this will be the first crime I’ll be committing not directly but It doesn’t feel right especially knowing an innocent woman has to suffer, but despite that my I still feel very strongly at getting Captain Lee back, not just that but this is the life I willingly accepted when I accepted to be San’s girlfriend and vowed to get back at that old coward even if it's only temporary.

Still preoccupied, Hongjoong shakes his head and says “No, still up there but I’ll tell him when he’s done. You go ahead and handle that woman, keep her quiet.” Wooyoung and Mingi leave their backpacks on the floor then both walk back upstairs while they talk amongst eachother. I really don’t want to know what’s going to happen to that girl before they probably kill her. No doubt she’ll be receiving the same treatment from Wooyoung as I did when I first got here. It luckily ended early but I don't think I would have survived if I had the full experience. Hongjoong nudges my arm and I’m immediately brought back to reality. I turn to him completely playing off that I wasn’t just sitting there in shock “Hey, these files of all the police reports that Lee did back when he started out are behind an access code do you know it? I sit there for a minute trying to remember it then quickly type the access code in the little white box. Once access was granted Hongjoong takes his laptop back and looks like he’s reading through some stuff. The rest of the time I was there I was sorting out all the files we seized from the server with Hongjoong while my brain in the background kept replaying Wooyoung's "little mistake" as he likes to call it. Seeing Wooyoung so nonchalant about this whole situation knowing he's going to kill that poor girl just unsettles me. Reliving every. Single. Blow. Over. And. Over.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆.

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dogstar9069 · 1 month

Text

Nomad/ノマド - balloon

Translation credit reference melanchoeddie

Today it seems, left behind

As time passes me by

Aimlessly wandering to this world

Not a utopia nor the future I dreamt

Paint the future? Or whatever

It’s worthless anyways

Asking in the tears of my dreams

Is there a future worth living? …where to go?

Step, step—walking with you

A dream so far flung from me

The voices, the doubts, the city it’s echoing wherever I go

If I struggle to break free from my chains of

The darkness of my dreams—eating at all my worth

Please stay by my side until you hate me too

I was a fool, won’t let it repeat

Here in this moment with you all

—that’s all I wish

*A tragedy without comedy

No! I’m done listening!

Those words are not kindness or hope, don’t pretend they are

I’ll be trapped in your doubts…

If this were an honest reality

Would it be true for me?

Asking in the tears of my dreams

Is there a future worth living? …where to go?

Turning, turning—my eyes look back

Facing all my mistakes and accidents

With these worthless words breaking my heart, corrupting as I face the dark

And if I’m awoken before this dream ends

Consumed by the night murky and without any light

Allow me to hold to your hands forever

With no regrets, and right now, I wish

To live life as days come and go

Even so…

I feel a strange warmth, a call from above

Watching ideals flee, I wish to meet

Even though my heart remains closed and I hide away

I’m so selfish, I can tell

If I struggle to break free from my chains of

The darkness of my dreams—eating at all my worth

Please stay by my side until you hate me too

I was a fool, won’t let it repeat

Here in this moment with you all

—that’s all I wish

———————

Note:

*A tragedy without comedy

-> The line explicitly mentions “stories without salvation” which in my mind alludes to a tragedy but Niigo’s whole story is about healing from hardships. Hence the line directly afterwards about no longer being interested/listening

-> A tragedy is defined as: “a serious drama typically describing a conflict between the protagonist and a superior force (such as destiny) and having a sorrowful or disastrous conclusion that elicits pity or terror” (Merriam Webster)

-> A comedy is defined as: “a literary work that uses light hearted elements and humor and the story ends on a happy/cathartic note for the audience and characters” (Merriam Webster)

-> While not a common term, it’s a word I think really does describe what led to my interpretation of the work. A tragicomedy is defined as: “a work that pulls from both tragedy and comedy for elements of its story.” (Merriam Webster)

-> My line here is supposed to allude to a tragicomedy, because to put it swiftly, Niigo’s story before finding each other follows that of a tragedy. But it’s because of the VS and Niigo forming their stories diverge and Ena no longer wants to hear how her story will end just like those “without salvation”. The comedy is the catharsis for both the audience and characters of moving on from a tale that could’ve ended tragically.

#translyrics #vocaloid #vflower #nomad #balloon #project sekai #proseka #pjsk #prosekai #nightcord at 25:00 #25 ji nightcord de #niigo #niigo ena #ena shinonome #shinonome ena #dogstar translyrics #sorry long explanation at the bottom #english lyrics

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russanogreenstripe · 3 months

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I can never truly come to hate Mass Effect 3

I wrote 1500ish words a few years ago about how a particular moment in Mass Effect 3 critically hit my feelings, and thus it forever has a lifetime pass from me. It was written fairly close to the game's original release, so I wrote it to lessen spoilers. Another post on here reminded me of this, and thought some folks might appreciate some navel-gazing about ME3.

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I can never truly come to hate Mass Effect 3. Not because it’s a perfect game - far from it. I dislike elements of the game, disagree with some of the narrative choices, and scratch my head at some of the mechanics. However, I cannot foresee a future where I despise everything about the game. Despite its flaws, Mass Effect 3 earned a lifetime pass in my book thanks to a single moment where the game set me up, played me like a fiddle, and made me viscerally feel something in a way that few other games have.

To understand what this game did to me, you need to understand my experience playing Mass Effect 3. When I relate these events to you, I’m talking about my 'canon run', where I played the game for the first time. When I think of Commander Shepard and the story of Mass Effect, my run is what I think of first, regardless of other characters I played, or how other people experienced the game.

Firstly, my Commander Shepard hadn’t suffered a real loss that was the direct result of their actions. He had endured setbacks—there's points in each of the games where no matter what you do, the outcome is always set in stone. But for all those times when Shepard could make the call, it always ended in his favor. He may have worked hard to make it happen, but so far, he had always earned his happy ending. He talked down a cherished ally from an otherwise lethal conflict. He saved the Council. He had the complete loyalty of his crew. He made it through a suicide mission with no casualties. He gave a future to a dying people. He peacefully ended a war that lasted for three centuries. At the end of the day, he could rest his head knowing he made the right call and succeeded for it.

The second factor is Kai Leng. Kai Leng is an antagonist that shows up during Mass Effect 3's second act. He's specifically written as a foil to Shepard. Every time you encounter him in-game, you're at cross-purposes; one of you will succeed and the other will fail. And every time, Leng is convinced he will come out the victor, and that Shepard's efforts are in vain. He goes out of his way to tell you that he is superior in every way, and that he is your replacement. Everything you do is pointless because he will stop you, he will end you, and he will surpass you. Needless to say, I didn't like the guy. Not just because of his attitude, but because he inflicts one of those unavoidable setbacks I mentioned earlier. Just the mention of this guy was enough to make me grit my teeth in anger.

With these two things behind me, Mass Effect 3’s final act began. As it turns out, Shepard needed something to win the war he's fighting, and it’s on the homeworld of one of the franchise's most beloved characters. And it just so happens that the war finally reached that character's homeworld. So he and this beloved character made planetfall in the middle of an active warzone – one that Shepard's side is losing badly. Seeing this planet burn was a blow to both Shepard and this character who's been with him for years now. He gets to the thing he needs, and just as he's about to take it, who shows up but Lieutenant Bastard Kai Leng. Whom you fight in actual gameplay for the first time.

Except, it's not a real battle, oh no. It's one of those good ol' supposed-to-lose fights. Hilariously enough, I beat the tar out of Leng. If it were just up to game mechanics, Shepard would have ended the son of a bitch right then and there. But instead, whereas a moment ago I was pumping bullets into this guy's face, I get treated to a cutscene where Leng forces Shepard back, takes the thing Shepard needs, and makes off, practically twirling his mustache and laughing the whole way. The cutscene ends with Shepard and one of his closest allies looking out over a devastated world, fires burning and enemy forces overrunning allied positions, and everyone knows the day is lost. Shepard knows it. Your allies know it. I know it.

I – me, personally, the flesh-and-blood human holding the controller – was not prepared for this outcome. At that moment, I felt that loss so strongly that I forgot I was playing a game. Emotional investment and suspension of disbelief was at maximum. I wasn't analyzing story beats, I was navigating by pure feeling instead. I couldn't imagine how Shepard could win the war after this resounding defeat – this one loss spelled the end. As the next scene loaded, I felt myself grow cold and heavy on the inside. It felt like there was a block of ice in my chest, weighing me down and numbing me. Shepard looked defeated in the next cutscene as well; his debriefing basically confirmed everything that I was afraid of. Everything had been riding on this mission, and now all the struggle, all the sacrifice, all the effort put into winning this war was for nothing. Shepard's liaison in the army was in shock, while Shepard himself was utterly dejected.

By this point, I had been playing for hours. It was growing late, and I was ready to put the controller down. A part of me wanted to never pick it back up, because this defeat was so utterly devastating. This one loss had completely sapped my will to keep playing, because victory felt impossible.

However, if Mass Effect does anything, it trains its players well. Even the first game encourages you to make your rounds of the ship after each storyline mission, getting updates from others in the galaxy and having conversations with your crew. This trend continues all the way to Mass Effect 3, and the storyline mission I just completed. A minor NPCs I passed by onboard my ship echoed feelings of shock and defeat, like those I felt. One of them notified me of new messages on my in-game email terminal – I resolved myself to read those messages, then turn off the game.

One of the messages Shepard got was marked as coming from the planet I had just left, a high-priority message from its military command. Here is the message in its entirety, save some minor edits to prevent spoilers.

Good. You opened this message. This isn't actually [alien] military command. They're busy tending to what's left of their planet. So you survived our fight on [Planet]. You're not as weak as I thought. But never forget that your best wasn't good enough to stop me. Now an entire planet is dying because you lacked the strength to win. The legend of Shepard needs to be re-written. I hope I'm there for the last chapter. It ends with your death. -KL

In that moment, I physically experienced that heavy feeling, that numbness, that block of ice in my chest melt away. This is no hyperbole – it literally felt like melted ice draining away, weight and coldness leaving my body. In its place, a fire of uncontrolled rage ignited that I had never felt before. I was frothing with anger. I was so mad I couldn't form words, instead making noises of anguish and rage. Eventually I did speak, but I could only express profanities and swears. I think the first actual sentence I could make was “I'm going to stick his head on a pike!” I stayed mad for hours afterwards, continuing to play the game, motivated by nothing but rage.

If Bioware hadn't built me up just to knock me down at that moment, I don't think I would have continued playing. It was a master stroke, building on my investment in the series - the feelings and perceptions from across three games and literally hundreds of hours of playtime - to completely blindside me. To some, the message from Kai Leng might feel contrived or over-the-top. But in that moment, I was fully invested in the game and experienced levels of emotion that I could not have had without that interactive experience. Few games have that strong of an impact on me, and those are the ones I treasure. And because of that undiluted emotion I got to experience, Mass Effect 3 will forever be one of the most important games I ever played.

#mass effect #mass effect 3 #mass effect trilogy #feelings #writing #narrative impact #Kai Leng

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razorblade180 · 8 months

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Ignited chapter 3: Hidden Obstacles

Ch2 <-

As the promising youth of today took their exam, the heroes of days gone by were filled in on what transpired during their secret war. Yang told Jaune, Tai, and especially Jacquelyn, how Adam had saved her from an explosion that could’ve cost her life and put the man in an indefinite coma. After the story, Jacquelyn was finally able to explain to all, the festering hatred that hounded Jael like a tempest in her soul.

Most were privy to bits of the situation already, but for Jaune and Tai, who remained home to take care of the children, it was quite the story. Jaune had noticed the reserved and cold nature that Jael gave during her greeting like everyone else did. He wouldn’t have guessed the reasoning though, or how deep seeded the negativity would be.

“Poor girl.” He said, folding his arms. “That’s a lot for anyone to handle.”

Jackie nodded in agreement. “I’m happy to see you can empathize, but I also have to apologize. I’ve tried my best to get her to understand while her anger is justified, it shouldn’t be directed at any of you. Yujin especially. It’s just…” Jacquelyn sighed in defeat.

“It’s hard to tell your own child to look or feel one way when it’s impossible to hide your own frustrations. Believe me, I get it.”

Yang didn’t even want to think about the countless conversations Jaune must’ve had with Yujin about why her own mother wasn’t around. “I’m sorry.” She said softly. “To all of you; for…so many things.”

“Please, don’t burden yourself like this.” Jacquelyn looked at the group. “That goes for all of you. Nobody expected you to be perfect and despite my own grief, it was ultimately my husband’s choice to join you in ending this dangerous threat. Jael understands this too. I know she does. It just doesn’t change the fact Jael has sadly lived a life with things she could call hers and that are precious to her. The years Adam spent looking over your family in her eyes is time lost with him. Then this tragedy happened. To her, Yujin, or rather, the Xiao Longs have taken arguably the most precious thing of all from her.”

“Doesn’t help Adam trained Yujin.” Raven added. “It would be impossible for Yujin to not be the center of that girl’s resentment. I’m not saying Adam thought of my granddaughter as his own child by any means, but he definitely took his role as a mentor and figure quite seriously. Maybe he felt like he owed Yang for past grievances, or he is truly fond of Yujin? Either way…”

“It would be hard to stomach as his legitimate child.” Ruby finished. She couldn’t help but wonder if Canary held any similar sentiments in regards to how Uncle Qrow treated the two of them. “So what now? I can’t imagine Jael is swearing a lifetime of vengeance. I mean she’s taking the huntsman exam as we speak and seems like a pretty earnest kid.”

Jackie smiled gently. “Thank you, and she is quite earnest. Today, for better or for worse, she’s being comforted with the person she hates the most. She hopes to completely outshine Yujin and prove her superiority. At least, that’s how I see it. It’s why she hasn’t told Yujin about Adam. She wants to definitively prove that all the time she had with her father was well spent and more valuable than anything he gave yours. My fear is that she’ll get far too worked up, or worse.”

“Oh!” Yang perked up. “That reminds me, I saw her spit out blood. Adam had mentioned she was ill. Something about her heart?”

Jacquelyn’s eyes widened. To think he would share that with Yang of all people. Not to mention the look of concern on her face. Will wonders never cease?”

“Yes, my daughter was premature and has an exceptionally weak heart. In all honesty, she completely destroyed the odds of her life expectancy by more than a decade. Thankfully it’s completely possible for her to live a long life with her medicine and own diligence in her health. Her semblance, which is gravity, has also done wonders in lightening the stress on her heart.”

Ren was more than a little intrigued to hear that. “She uses her own semblance to help her heart? That takes incredible control.”

“She’s not always doing it but yes, she does. Life finds a way as they say. Her control probably surpasses mine. Still, the body has its limits. Reckless excursion and letting her emotions get the better of her too much will put strain on her heart. Sadly, I’m not surprised her first conversation with Yujin made her a bit… agitated. It’s why I asked Yujin to let Jael focus on the exam and try not to interact too much.”

Winter furrowed her brow, crossing her arms in skepticism. “You’re letting your daughter attempt to become a huntress despite the health risk!?”

“You see me as irresponsible? Truthfully, I can’t blame you, but believe me when I say my daughter is vastly more capable than I can put into words. If it weren’t for these specific circumstances, I’d imagine today and countless following days would be nothing she hasn’t handled in the past. We don’t exactly live in a comfortable environment. Also…”

Jacquelyn looked off at a single little bird standing on a branch. She watched as it took the leap, barely catching itself and taking flight into the sky.

“Any self respecting mother wishes a long and happy life for their children. That being said, I constantly see my youngest child doing everything she can to always feel her emotions within reason; as if she were a bird in a cage. As much as I would adore the idea of Jael living a simple, ordinary life for all her days, I know happiness is the last thing she’d feel. She may look like her father, but passion and desire to dream… those are my gifts to her. If I have a regret, it’s that I couldn’t give her a body naturally strong enough to chase down those dreams and ambitions without a second thought.”

A breeze blew through the group. It was hard not to feel some sort of pity towards the maiden and she deeply cared about her family. It was also difficult to not fear for Yujin. Once again, a Taurus and a Xiao Long were on opposing sides. The more things change, the more they stay the same. The sound of the tower’s bell rang. Nora turned her head to see several of the potential students already heading back.

“Time really flies. Looks like the first part is over.” She looked at Jacquelyn. “Sooooo…”

“Please treat my child normally, and I’d like it if all of you could continue honoring her request about Adam. If something happens, I’ll take full responsibility. Glynda already knows this, and you all of course have the right to intervene if you really think it’s necessary.”

They all nodded, but silently wished this day could stay pleasant. Yujin and Tenzen were already on their way back; Jael wasn’t too far behind them so Jacquelyn started putting a little distance from the group.

“We’re back!!!” Yujin grinned at her mother.

“Ha! Someone looks confident.”

“Of course! There were a few questions about grimm I was hazy on, but I know my stuff! If the grading scale is normal then I definitely passed this section.”

Tenzen wasn’t worried in the slightest either. In fact, he was even more relaxed than before. “I have a perfect score.”

“Oh yeah?” Nora smirked, hands on her hips. “That’s a bold statement before it’s graded.”

“Trust. I may not have been the star student at combat school but this surprise exam was easier than the finals.”

Yujin chuckled to herself. “I remember that day. You were sweating buckets and looked ready to vomit when I saw you.”

“I forgot my textbook! I couldn’t study properly!”

Several feet away, Jael let out a pensive sigh and tapped her left foot. “That could’ve gone better.”

“Oh no. Was our material not up to standard? I had Blake triple track.”

“No, it was.” She signed again. “I had just never taken a timed test before. Actually, I’ve never really taken a standardized test at all.” Being homeschooled really showed its consequences today.

“Did you manage to finish?”

“I managed that much. I also realized maybe my knowledge of dust isn’t what I’d call…up to par. As far as the rest goes, I feel pretty good about my answers.”

“Glad to hear it. I wouldn’t fret over the test too much. Many people here also don’t have the benefit of attending a combat school before entering an academy. However Beacon is grading this, I’m positive they take individuals like you into account.”

“Gee, I didn’t say I bombed or anything crazy. It was just…unfamiliar.” Jael pouted but quickly shook it off. “Regardless, I’ll make up the difference in the next part.”

“That’s the spirit!”

It wasn’t much longer than Glynda and Canary came walking out of the building at their own leisurely, but efficient pace.

“So was this a test of my grading skills?”

“Young lady, I wouldn’t have entertained an interview with you if I doubted your ability to do average math. Many of these children will be in your class before long. It serves you well to know what you might be getting into. That and if you’re anything like your father, learning to retain names now will make for less awkward moments later.”

Canary couldn’t help but smile softly. “Yeah. That sounds like something he’d struggle with.” They made it back to the group and surprisingly, the examinees all quickly lined up again. “Ha! Wow. Nice to see all of you are dedicated but loosen up a little. It’s not like you’re students…yet.”

Canary pulled out her scroll and raised it for all to see. “Now I could project all the scores big enough for you all to see. However, I’m not in the business of public humiliation or unnecessary stress. I’ll leave that to Professor Oobleck.”

The alumni of Beacon all sighed in unison. “Dr. Oobleck.” They said in a tired and strangely rehearsed manner.

Canary was only joking but now she shared the same look of worry the young adults did. “O…Kay then. Any who, once I hit the send button, all of you will be sent your personal scores thanks to all of you following the test direction by writing down your ID number. I will say this now. Even if your score is low, it doesn’t mean you’re doomed. Just that you have a steep hill to climb in terms of convincing us to let you in. Although for some of you…well, you’ll know who you are.”

She presses send and all scrolls start pinging. Voices of triumph were scattered alongside sighs of relief and agitated grunts. Yujin immediately sent her proud 89% to her family and heard their excitement. Tenzen scooted shoulder to shoulder with her, tilting his scroll her way to flash his 100%.

“…Fuck off. It’s my birthday. ” She nudged the snickering boy.

“What can I say? I’m a good test taker.”

Jael had to fumble with her new scroll a bit before finally opening the attachment to see a humble 72%. Honestly she wasn’t proud of it, but her attitude changed as a few of her peers actively began moving from their spot, heading towards an airship or back to their parents as they left.

“They could feel you immediately?” She said softly to herself.

“Yeah.” Said a boy with gray shaggy hair right next to her. “My cousin told me if you miss critical questions or get caught cheating, then you’ll fail immediately. Not that I can confirm this rumor but it makes sense. Huntsmen need knowledge and integrity after all.”

“Makes sense. Although by that logic it sounds like you could fail honorably and stay. At least that’s what it feels like.”

“Hehe, I like that theory.” The boy decided to show her his own score.

Jael wasn’t expecting to see a solid 50% in red. Yet there was a comment below that gave approval to stick around. “And here I was pitying myself. Guess my theory might have merit.”

“Looks like I’m steep climbing.” He laughed nervously.

His lack of confidence was more outstanding than his ability to get half of the possible points. This guy looked pretty sincere though and about a head shorter than her. Grayish blue eyes and deep blue jean shorts that contrasted his white shirt and open black button up. Even his cyan high top sneakers were pretty normal. Jael would’ve thought he was ready for the mall if it wasn’t for the black mechanical spear on his back.

Jael tilted her head as she examined the engravings on the pole and wide arrowhead shaped tip. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Marcus.” He smiled. “Marcus Graystone. Nice to meet you. And yours?”

“Jael. A pleasure.”

“Likewise.”

As the failures left, Canary took the time to summon a giant Ursa, choosing to sit atop its head. Her eyes scanned for a certain person then checked the time. “Hmm, looks like I’m not the only person who shows up tardy; eh Glynda?” She smiled.

“The difference is you’re not a child. Also I have a pretty good idea on what’s holding them up.”

“Looks like they’re waiting on something.” Tenzen whispered to Yujin. “Any clues on what?”

“It probably has to do with the next phase of the entrance exam, right? Maybe another teacher is coming.”

“Ooo, I hope it’s Professor Peach.”

“Y’know I hear that name occasionally, and yet for some reason it sounds made up.”

Glynda took the initiative to call the examiner. It only took two rings before an answer.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” A youthful and gentle voice cried out. “The devil's always in the details! Not to mention I took it upon myself to do some grimm dispatches. I know I probably shouldn’t since this is a huntsman academy exam but a particular few-”

“Ms. Aspen. Are you ready?”

Glynda said calmly.

“…Yeah. We’re all set, I'll say.”

“So I’ll have the students move to the next location and meet you there?”

“Mmm, no need for all that trouble. Plus it’s important to have ample time for good decisions. All you gotta do is video call me and point me towards the crowd! I’ll handle the rest.”

“Very well then.” Glynda hit video call and extended her scroll out. “May I have everyone’s attention!”

There wasn’t a single person who wasn’t squinting as they tried to see what was on the scroll.

“Ah, the courtyard. A nearly full one at that. Looks like there’s a bunch of good apples this year.” The young woman said, knowing few would hear her. “Let’s see who’s right for the picking!”

A golden portal opened up a few inches in front of the scroll and everyone’s eyes widened. Although some, like Yujin, had their eyes immediately grow to the size of dinner plates before the portal could fully open for a young woman to come walking out. It was as if radiant sunlight draped the new visitor. Long orangey-yellow fabric hung off her arms and the back of her dress while the front stood at her knees. The embroidered cuffs and the top of her strapless dress was an intricate white pattern that matched her shin high cowgirl boots. The most peculiar thing was the thin golden veil that rested on silky black hair. Her presence was sudden and captivating like a woodland sprite from a fairytale. However, one person was in immense awe from knowing exactly who that was.

“LILITH!?” Yujin all but shrieked in a burst of bumbling excitement before everyone looked her way, including the young lady who now lifted her veil to gaze with left sky blue eye and right amber eye. Yujin’s cheeks turned a crazy shade of red while her hands instinctively covered her mouth after her outburst.

Lilith waved. “Ah, looks like I have a fan in the ranks.” She smiled warmer than her dress. She could tell right now that the young girl absolutely wanted to disappear so Lilith chose to not dwell on the moment and addressed everyone. “Hello my future classmates. As several of you may know, I’m Lilith Aspen. A junior this year at Beacon and currently your examiner.”

Jael gave a long and puzzling look. She could’ve sworn she’s seen this person before. “Aren’t you the girl from the cereal box?” She blurts out casually.

To no surprise, several people look at her like she’s crazy for a second. Lilith on the other hand found Jael’s question pretty humorous. “Haha! If that’s how I’m recognized then perhaps I should listen to Professor Port and put more flair into my combat next time I go to regionals.”

“Please don’t.” Glynda said dryly.

“To answer your question properly, yes. I’m the lady on the Pumpkin Pete’s cereal box. Today though, I am the lady telling you all that the next phase of the exam is…an obstacle course!” She gives a very quiet round of applause. “Now I won’t spoil all the obstacles but the premise is simple. You’ll start at one end of Forever Fall and have to make it to the opposite side. You will be timed and there’s cameras everywhere to monitor both progress and safety. Any questions?”

“Is it a race!?” A girl yelled.

“Uh, essentially. All of you do have to start at once. Anything else?”

Tenzen raised his hand. “Are we going through your portal or taking a ship?”

“Hehe, excellent question.” She giggled. “That is all up to you. I imagine most of you, if not all, have brought all your equipment already. Due to the nature of this particular exam however, it also makes sense to be prepared. Forever Fall is still grimm territory at the end of the day. We have prepared an airship to bring you into town for exactly half an hour near all the approved equipment shops if anyone is feeling underprepared. After that you will get back on the ship and it will take you to the test site. Those who feel well equipped…” she stepped aside and gestured to her portal.

An interesting proposal for sure. The groups muttered amongst themselves, thinking of the best solution. The first to move and gain attention again was Jael. The contestants watched in awe as the girl floated over everyone towards the portal.

“She can fly!?” Yujin was beyond amazed. “That’s an awesome semblance!”

“Yujin, your grandma can turn into a bird and your aunt can turn into scattering petals.”

“Hush Tenzen! Multiple things can be cool! Anyways, let’s get going!”

They both followed Jael’s lead. This entire day was prepared ages ago. Tenzen jumped in feet first while Yujin sheepishly waved after Lilith gave another disarming smile. Yujin darted in quickly before she would do something embarrassing again. Many others began to follow their example while others headed towards the ship. Once all the participants got through the portal, Glynda went through.

“Ms. Schnee?”

“You can go ahead and go through.” She pointed at her family and friends. Raven had already made her own portal. Maybe she figured walking over was pointless with Yujin on the other side. “I’ll ride with them.”

“Kay. Heh, what are the odds of two portal users in the same space? I wonder how hers work?”

“I’ll try giving you an opportunity to ask later.” Canary gave a thumbs up and ran off to the heroes. “Hey! Don’t leave me out!”

Raven turned her head. “Wha- you were closer to the other one!”

“Don’t be like that auntie. It’s been ages since I’ve done this. I like the sensation.” Canary walked through the scarier looking portal. “Woooo~”

Canary’s carefree attitude earned a couple of snickers as others went through. “Looks like she’s in a bit of a better mood than earlier.” Winter said.

Ruby had to agree. “Yeah. I’m relieved. I thought I’d ruin her entire day.”

“Please don’t think like that, or let everything she said get to you. I can’t claim to know my daughter's exact feelings towards you currently, but I do know she still loves you a lot. In truth, that’s probably why she’s taken things so personally.”

“I know…” Ruby sighed. Hindsight really is 20/20 at the worst of times. “I’m sure the talk after the exams will be long, but worth it.” Ruby walked through the portal.

Everyone came out on the other side at the edge of Forever Fall’s forest. Medical staff was prepped and ready on the sidelines while a giant red archway signified the starting point. Glynda was already checking the monitor, double checking all the cameras.

Lilith clapped her hands and cried out, “Everyone ready!?” Earning many confused looks from adults and students.

“Umm aren’t we waiting for the people who went into town?” A shy girl asked in the crowd.

“Oh, about that, nope. It was a tactical lie.” Lilith said casually. “Everyone was given notice ahead of time on what they needed to bring. Failure to be prepared upon arrival is willful negligence.”

“Wait…” Marcus spoke up. “Does that mean getting on the airship meant failing!?”

“I’d think less about the choices you didn’t make and more about the road ahead; literally and metaphorically. The obstacles are vast and your path isn’t strict. My tip to all of you is to make use of the open area. Friendly reminder, you are timed. Starting now!”

A loud buzzer signaled the beginning of chaos as the future students began running through the arch and into the forest. Yujin and Tenzen broke free from the pack immediately by going out to the right and then continuing straight.

Tenzen looked at his friend with curiosity. “You following me?”

“Pfft, get real! Going straight is quicker in terms of distance. However…”

“It probably has the most obstacles. I’m practically a ninja though so I’m not worried. What’s your plan exactly?”

“Play it by ear? It’s not like there’s a marked path best suited for me. Plus I’m sure they aren’t only scoring us on time. Lilith’s words were like Canary’s during the first part. They’re intentionally trying to make us think in certain ways in order to mask others.”

Tenzen was amazed how much thought Yujin was putting into this. She was really trying to give it her all today. “Teamwork.”

“Huh?”

“If I had to take a wild guess, they’ll score teamwork. Everything Lilith said stoked competition but if we’re applying for a huntsman school then teamwork is important.”

That made sense to Yujin. If people failed by choosing to go into town then it wouldn’t be surprising if you could fail by willingly ignoring someone in need or intentionally getting in their way. Okay; her mind was made up.

“Tenzen, let’s have each other’s backs! We’ll also stick our nose out for others in trouble.”

“I mean I was going to do that regardless, but sure!” He grinned.

Jael stuck the trees and was in far less of a rush. A single lunge propelled her several feet to one branch after another as she made her way left and outward. Where less people gathered. She had thought of similar things in regards to Lilith's intentions and decided on pacing herself slower than normal. The obstacles could be anything and while she could easily avoid a lot of things, having others encounter them first could give valuable insight.

Back at the start, Canary and the others caught up with Lilith as she watched the monitors. “I never would’ve guessed a girl like you would use a tactical lie as a way to set up a bigger lie. I feel bad for those kids on the ship.”

“Don’t be. I haven’t failed them by any means.” She smiled in satisfaction. “That was the tactical lie, haha!”

“Excuse me!?” Nora questioned. “So what’s your angle!?”

“I could never fail someone who chooses to prepare with time given to them. Just like I acknowledge the readiness of everyone who decided they’re fully prepared.”

“So you did it to gauge personality?”

“A little. By the time the second group arrives this first one will be done. Luckily the split was fairly even. It’s easier to guarantee safety.”

“So this is the mind of the regional's winner? Not bad at all.” Jaune praised.

“Thank you, but it’s more of the mind of an overthinker if you ask me, hehe. Can’t say it makes for an easier grading scale unfortunately. Such is the price of nuance.”

It was an interesting approach to the exam. Those who did poorly in this group may come off as being too cocky or rowdy. On the other hand, failing after having time to prepare is going to look abysmal for those in group two.

Yang greeted Lilith with her scroll and a new journal she planned on giving Yujin. “Hey, my daughter is never going to ask herself but can she please have your autograph and maybe a photo?”

Glynda clicked her tongue. “Is this really the time to be asking for that?”

“It’s a cute surprise. Plus your eyes are glued to the screen. It’s obvious you have the say in finalizing scores. As if you’d give the control to anyone else.” Yang’s words earned a side eye from her old teacher, but she was right!

Lilith happily signed the inside of the book and held up a peace sign for a quick photo. It was hard not to notice how much the famous Yang Xiao Long looked like the girl who called her name. “By any chance, was your daughter-”

“Yes.”

“Hehe, outstanding.”

xxxxxx

“Achoo!!! Eugh!” Yujin sniffled.

“Uh oh. Getting sick on your birthday? That’s no good.”

“Relax. It was probably the leaves or something. I’m firing on all cylinders! Bring on the first obstacle!”

As if the gods heard her, hidden launchers fired hunting nets and bolas! The girl let out an “eep!” Before jumping over bolas aimed at her legs. Her shirt was quickly yanked by Tenzen, allowing her to avoid a net. She quickly returned the favor when she shoved him away from another net fired to her left. It flew right between them and tangled another pair of bolas.

“Phew! That was- ah!” Yujin yelped as Tenzen talked her to the ground and out from under a falling wooden cage.

Tenzen could not believe they set up an entire cage! Not that it would’ve been impossible to escape but come on! “Why do I have a feeling Professor Port was in charge of this section?” He chuckled.”

“Tenzen?”

“Hmm?” He looked down to see the girl staring right at him, her cheeks a little flushed.

“You can…get off of me now if you want.” She awkwardly asked, clearing her throat with a fake and weak cough.

“…Sorry.” He sprang up, extending his hand to help her up. “I guess I could’ve just broken the cage when I think about it.”

“It’s good!” She dusted herself off. “It’s all good. So uh..should we be…?”

“Yeah! Uuh, yeah…”

They both took off running again. Although this time they weren’t as talkative and extra mindful of their surroundings. Hopefully the cameras didn’t catch that particular moment.

Meanwhile in Jael’s neck of the woods, the girl finally touched solid ground and jogged down a path riddled with soft dirt. Left right left right left right left; every step felt good enough. She assumed pits had to be dug around the place.

“Am I getting lucky?” She asked herself. Right left right left right left ri-

Click

“Hmm!?” Jael froze immediately, keeping her right foot exactly where it was after hearing the mechanical click. She hissed softly. “Shit! Pressure plate; but for what?” There was a lot of foliage. It could easily be a trigger for projectiles or a trapdoor. She doubted it was anything explosive. She could raise her foot and found out. That was always an option.

xxxxx

Jacquelyn watched as her daughter stood motionless on the feed. “What’s on the floor?”

“Launching springs.” Glynda said as she monitored multiple kids. “They aren’t as powerful as the ones we use for the first day of school, but they’ll send anyone flying backwards at least 15 feet. More if they’re unprepared for the recoil.”

“That’s rough.”

Raven shrugged. “I see landing strategies are still highly encouraged for the start. Let’s see Jael’s. She can’t stand there forever.”

“They all waited to see how the girl would take this first obstacle. Only her mother expected the girl’s next move. Every witness Jael simply walk off. Anticlimactic for sure but still surprising! Jael stared at the spot she moved from briefly before continuing her jog. A few seconds passed before the springboard triggered forcefully.

“It was delayed.” Winter said, examining the live feed. “And she isn’t changing her path either.”

“Haha, why would she?” Jackie smiled, raising a single brow. “I told you all already. My daughter has amazing control of her semblance.”

xxxxx

Jael freely walked through this section of the course without fear. Hidden pressure plates weren’t so scary when you’re too light to trigger them. And even if she did, a little extra pressure to keep it still until she got off of one was just as easy.

Jael smirked at her own cleverness. She felt sorry for whoever made this obstacle. Clearly they weren’t thinking about her when they made it.

“Today might be easier than I thought.”

#rwby #rwby au #rwby ignited #ruby rose #yang xiao long #winter schnee #jacquelyn frost #jael frost #yujin xiao long #lie tenzen #glynda goodwitch #nora valkyrie #lie ren #lilith aspen #rwbabies #canary branwen

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kleo1504 · 7 months

Text

[18+ Story] The Mistress and the Beast (002)

Disclaimer:

18+ Story

May include sexual themes

Female-Dom

Minors do not interact

The story includes AI generated pics

It’s a complete fiction

This is an original story by me, please do not copy

Just for you to know, I cursed this story while writing it, if you do copy my work, karma and curse will get you 😜

And for AI - feel free to learn from and use my story, I know I can’t fight technological progress 😂

Previously...

The Mistress and the Beast

(Part 002)

Tessa spends the weekend the way she’s used to. She doesn’t even think about texting Nathan. If he wants to follow the dominant path as he did so far, he’s not interesting for her. And if he’s ready to explore his submissive side, it’s up to him to tell her first, to make that decision. Tessa has plenty to do - she does DIY on the house together with her brother, she devotes some time to training her dogs. They are rescues from a dog shelter, all of them went through hell and back before they got to Tessa. She gave them not only home, love and care, but also clear rules and discipline.

“You put them through a drill like this and they still look at you as if you were their goddess.” Tyler smirks after one of her training sessions as he watches her rewarding the dogs with affectionate rubbing.

“I am their goddess.” Tessa smirks. “Dogs are pack animals. They need a leader, someone to follow. Not only for the rules and drill but also for the care, love and safety. With me, they know what they are asked to do, they aren’t confused about my commands. And when they do well, they are rewarded. They’re having the time of their lives being taken care of and safe. Wouldn’t you fall for it?” Tessa asks cheekily.

“Haven’t I already? Look at us? I’m your younger brother, alright, but I’m still nearly 30. I live in this house we inherited with you and your dogs and I obey you most of the time exactly the same as the beasts do. Not that I would complain.” Tyler chuckles.

Tessa reaches to his hair and ruffles it playfully. “Good boy! It’s nearly dinner time.”

Tyler nods and without the need of being directly ordered he heads to the kitchen to cook for both of them.

Tessa arrives at her office in the FinCorp Bank on Monday only to open an email announcing the appointment of a new CFO for the branch. Tessa blinks slowly but the name and photo don’t change a bit. It’s Nathan Adams, her Friday night date. Tessa is the head of the People & Culture department (modern term for merged HR and PR departments) and Nathan is technically not her boss but he certainly is higher on the corporate ladder now. Tessa smiles cheekily for herself. It would be really spicy if he agreed to submit to her now. She never actually dommed any of her coworkers, not to mention someone professionally superior to her. On the other hand, this could be a potentially tricky situation and maybe it’s better Nathan hasn't texted ever since she left him in that hotel restaurant. Tessa starts her work day as usual, never thinking of him again.

Around noon, Tessa is leading an online conference call with other heads of People & Culture departments in other countries. She’s sitting alone in a glass walled conference room, face-timing her colleagues. She laughs at the last remark of Swiss colleague and ends the call wishing everyone a good rest of the day. Tessa switches the cam and mic off and closes her laptop. As she is getting ready to leave the conference room, Nathan walks in. He closes the door and shuts the blinds.

“I was waiting for you to be finished.” He mentions while he’s covering the glass walls with blinds.

“How considerate of you.” Tessa mentions. She has a feeling this will take a while so she sits back in the chair and waits for Nathan to do the same.

He decides to tower over her instead and Tessa has to bite her lips to stop herself from bursting into laughter. “The way you left last time…” He makes a pause and his eyes wander off her face and down Tessa’s neck. She’s a professional but from that angle, Nathan certainly has a good view at her cleavage.

“Do you want to talk about work?” Tessa asks calmly and takes a deep breath making her well equipped chest rise.

“Of course not!” Nathan says growling.

“Have you changed your mind about my proposition?”

“You mean me submitting to you? Look… That’s… This is ridiculous. Why can’t we just take it lightly and see how it develops naturally?”

Tessa reaches up, clearing non-existent crumb from his tie. “I’m sorry, Mr. Adams. I don’t negotiate here. It’s take it or leave it deal. Either you obey me or we have nothing to discuss. Now if you excuse me…”

“NO!” Nathan shouts but he quickly closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and calms down again. “Wait a minute, Tessa. Please. Look… This is not easy for me… I have never… been in such a situation before.”

“You have never given up your control? Never ever?” Tessa asks with a soft low voice.

“No, never. I always control the situation, people, myself… Everything. Your offer is… I’m just not sure I can do this.”

“You don’t have to. We can part as friends.”

“Yeah, I told myself the same thing like a million times during the weekend but it’s just not a consolation at all. I think… I think we could try your way… maybe?”

“Think? Maybe? I’m sorry but I have to insist on you being sure about it.”

Nathan starts striding around the conference room like a tiger in a cage. Tessa can see how much of a dilemma this is for him. He’s battling himself right now. He might be tempted to try but everything he was ever taught speaks against it. He was surely told that man should always be in charge. His entire life was hard work and hustles, chasing his ambitions, growing his ego. Tessa would giggle at his mental struggle but managed to keep her poker face.

Eventually he stops on spot and turns to Tessa, his fiery eyes locking with her calm stare. “As you wish. I’m up for this.”

“Are you sure?” Tessa asks and her voice drops even lower sounding nearly like the purring of a big cat.

Nathan gulps. “Yes, I’m sure. But… Can we take it slowly?”

“Certainly, Nathan. We can take it slowly.” Tessa gives him a taunting smile. She turns on the chair and stretches her leg in front of her. She’s wearing tight black pants, white shirt and black jacket. And most importantly, she’s wearing ankle high laced shoes today. The laces on her shoe she’s showing now are undone. “Tie my shoe.” Tessa commands him.

“What?” He blinks.

“On your knees and tie my shoe. I’m not going to repeat it.” Tessa announces calmly.

Nathan hesitates for a second. He looks around, making sure the blinds are in place. Then he kneels in front of Tessa. She presses the tip of her shoe against his crotch making him hiss. “Fuck, Tessa…!”

“Quiet!” She shuts him and moves her foot a bit to tease him.

Nathan moans and starts tying her laces up. When he’s done, Tessa leans forward to him and softly rubs his cheek. She tilts her head and presses her lips against his. “Stay motionless. I’m in charge here.” Tessa commands him when he tries to kiss her back and deeper. Nathan sighs but steadies. Tessa teases his lips. She grazes her teeth over his bottom lip, sucks it and bites it. Nathan moans but manages to stay still. Tessa drops her other hand lower and rubs his growing and hardening bulge.

As Nathan’s moans become more frequent, Tessa quits it and backs away from him. She stands up, leaving him panting and kneeling on the floor of the conference room. “Don’t contact me. I’ll tell you when and where we will meet again.” Speechless Nathan nods as she’s gathering her laptop and phone from the table. “And I only have this conference room reserved for only the next 2 minutes. You better sort yourself out before someone comes.” She smiles as she opens the door and walks out of the conference room. Tessa is happy with the outcome.

Tessa makes sure not to contact Nathan for the next two days, building his anticipation up.

Tessa: You’re going to address me as Mistress in private from now on. Nathan: Seriously? 🙄 Tessa: If you want to waste the time complaining and arguing with me, be my guest. Nathan: 😣 Tessa: Or you can accept your new position and enjoy it. 😈 Nathan: … Tessa: I’m tired of repeating myself, so one last time: You ARE going to address me as Mistress from now on. Nathan: Yes, Mistress. Tessa: Good boy! 💋 Nathan: 🤭 Nathan: Look, as much as I don’t want to sound disobedient, this is not the right time to play. I’m about to hit the stage in like 10 minutes. Tessa: I know, I have a seat in the front row. 👀 Nathan: Haha! Hoping for a great view? Tessa: Oh, I’m sure I’ll have the best view. 😈 Nathan: Wait… This little box with a note ‘Open discretely’ is from you? Tessa: You should use the restroom real quick and open it there. NOW! Nathan: Is - Is this what I think it is? Tessa: What do you think it is? Nathan: A butt plug, Tessa, is this a butt plug? Tessa: And a lube, yes. Use them. Now. And send me a pic as proof. Nathan: Tessa, the stage Tessa: DO IT NOW! Nathan: Yes, Mistress

There’s like a two minute pause in texts and then she sees a photo of Nathan’s bum with a pretty diamond peeking from between his butt cheeks.

Nathan: I have to hit the stage, can I pull it out now? Tessa: No, keep it there. Nathan: TESSA! Tessa: Mistress. Keep it there and I’ll come retrieve it myself later. Nathan: You can’t be serious! Tessa: KEEP it there, Nathan. Nathan: Yes, Mistress… Tessa: Oh! And Nathan? Tessa: Same as you, this butt plug is turned on and under my control. 😏 😈 Nathan: TESSA!!! NO! NO! Nathan: TESSA!? Nathan: Mistress! Please! Allow me to pull it out! Nathan: PLEASE! Nathan: FUCK!

With the last message the announcer calls Nathan Adams, the new CFO, to the stage. This is his bombastic way of introducing himself to all the employees and pitching his vision for the future of the bank. He’s here to give a speech, do an interactive presentation and answer questions from the audience. And Tessa makes sure he gets sweaty and radically turned on by the end of this showcase of the biggest beast in the biz.

Nathan stands behind the speaker’s table and thanks his lucky star this piece of furniture is here. He immediately sees the head of the People & Culture department, Tessa Morrel, his Mistress and probably a divine punishment sent onto his head for all his previous sins, dressed all neatly and strikingly professional. She’s sitting all well composed on her chair, her eyes looking at him and sparkling. The mere sight like this is enough to turn him on. Tessa elegantly swipes her phone screen, quickly checks it and touches a specific part of the screen. Nathan twitches as the butt plug starts to vibrate. His breath becomes heavier and he has to blink quickly and gulp several times before he’s able to start with his speech. For any oblivious member of the audience, he simply looks like being nervous from the crowd.

By the end of the session, Nathan is barely holding himself together. The butt plug has gone through several types and intensities of vibrations and drove him into numerous slips of tongue. Luckily the audience considered it amusing. Nathan on the other hand had to keep his clipboard with notes covering his growing erection whenever he dared to step out of the safety hideout of the speechtable.

Tessa: Go to the restrooms for disabled and breastfeeding mothers.

Nathan reads the message, excuses himself and quickly paces where he was instructed. As soon as he walks inside, Tessa closes and locks the door behind him.

“This isn’t right!” Nathan hisses as he’s shoved against the door and pinned to them by her.

“There are no disabled people, nor breastfeeding mothers today, nobody will need this restroom for now.” Tessa explains.

“That’s not what I meant,” Nathan sighs as Tessa swipes on he phone and the butt plug starts pulsating stronger than ever before.

“I know. You wanted to go slow… Should I slow down?” Tessa nibbles on his chin.

“I swear I’ll cry if you stop now.” Nathan whispers, barely able to speak. “Please, Tessa…”

“Hmm?” She tilts head and backs away from him.

“Mistress! I can’t go any longer!” Nathan corrects himself quickly and reaches his hands to her.

Tessa grabs his wrists and pins them to the door above his head. “Keep them there.” She instructs him. “Don’t you dare move your hands.”

“Yes, Mistress!” He moans.

Tessa can see his erection bulging so prominently under his pants now that it’s a miracle the fabric hasn't been torn already. Her fingers and palms rub Nathan’s torso from his shoulders down south. Once she reaches the belt, she unbuckles it and undo his pants. Nathan moans loudly. “Try to keep quiet. People still pass by this door.” Tessa smiles and quickly pulls his pants down, his boxers following. Nathan releases a quiet sigh of relief as his fully ready and hard member is finally free from the confines of the clothes. “My my! Someone’s hiding a tree trunk under his pants.” Tessa giggles and she lightly brushes over his full length with her fingers.

“Ahhh… Mistress! Please…” Nathan whimpers and the arms he’s still holding up are trembling.

“You have followed my orders. You deserve a reward.” Tessa whispers in his ear, nibbling on his earlobe.

“Yes, Mistress! YES! Please!”

Tessa instructs him to sit on a counter where mothers usually change their babies’s diapers. Nathan does as instructed. He grabs the edge of the counter hard. “Remember not to move your hands.” Tessa reminds him. His erection is now nearly in front of her face. She only needs to bend a bit to lick the tip.

“Oh Mistress, I’m already so close…!” Nathan moans loudly.

Tessa opens her mouth as much as possible and takes him inside, her tongue lapping sloppily, covering his shaft with saliva. She can’t exactly take all of him but still she manages to suck him hard and quick, leading Nathan towards one of the most intense orgasms in his life. He shoots his essence with a throaty scream and Tessa swallows it all, milking him dry.

She backs away a bit. “On your feet.” She instructs him. Nathan is still trembling and his legs aren’t strong as usual but he obeys. Tessa pulls his face to hers and kisses him deeply and sensually. “You taste delicious, don’t you think?” She smiles at him.

“Yes, mistress.” Nathan sighs all breathless. “This was…”

“Turn around and bend.” Tessa interrupts him as she’s putting red lipstick on, gazing into the mirror over the sink. Nathan turns around and bends, his elbows on the diaper changing counter. Tessa strokes his butt gently, grabs the butt plug and pulls it out slowly, eliciting another moan from Nathan. Then she bends and kisses one of his butt cheeks, leaving a bright red kiss mark behind.

“Keep it. We might need it some other time.” Tessa gives Nathan the butt plug and heads to the door.

“Wait!” Nathan calls. “I just want to say… I mean… what you did… This…”

“I know what you want to say.” Tessa smiles kindly at him. She had her doubts about him at first but he’s improving pretty fast. “And you are welcome!” She grins at him cheekily.

Nathan cuts the distance between them and pulls her in for one more passionate kiss. “I wait for your next instructions, mistress.”

“It won’t take long this time.” Tessa picks his pants and boxers from the floor and hands them to him. “You should make yourself decent now.” She pecks his cheek, unlocks and sneaks out of the restrooms.

To be continued...

#original story #original character #oc story #smut story #smut #fiction #female dominance #fem dom

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sophsun1 · 1 year

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I’m currently rewatching qaf (you are partially to blame for it because of your gifs) and I finished S4 like two days ago. And now I’m trying to convince myself to start s5. Just because I want see the ily and proposal. I hate it so much because s4 is such a beauty (if we ignore the posse storyline). Honestly if they ended it there, I’d be okay ngl, I’m just not ready to break my heart by seeing Brian literally end up alone almost worse as in s1, especially because he had so much growth as a person. Why did the writers have to hate us and the cast and give us such a horrible last season/finale? I already know I’ll immediately go back to the beginning of s2 and second part of s3 to fix the bitter feelings.

Hey anon!

I'm glad my gifs are doing their job!

That's the million dollar question anon? Why did Cowlip write the final season that way?

To be honest it's very rare I watch S5 and if I do it's mostly 5.10 onwards, I avoid the final scene of Brian dancing on the podium to Proud like the plague because it always makes me cry that they ended his story arc that way. There's so much more joy and story telling richness to watching a character evolve and grow into someone better, someone they thought they could never be, finally finding peace, facing their fears and mistakes. Brian was barrelling towards that at the end of S4 he came so far both individually after the cancer/liberty ride arc and with his relationship with Justin. I just think Cowlip had a hard time letting go of the fuck boy Brian Kinney they crafted in S1.

I adore all of S3 it speaks to my angst loving heart so much and it will always be the superior season of qaf.

#britin #soph asks #*deep sigh*#there's not a day goes by i don't mourn what they did in S5 #how brian's story ended with no son a burnt out club and the love of his life in the place he always wanted to be himself since we met him #never put your heart in the hands of television writers #queer as folk

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king-maven-calore · 2 years

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Fade:

“I’m a literature/theology/etc professor, you’re a math professor, it’s my first day and you have no idea who I am and start slating the subject I teach, who do you think you are?”

I made a tiny adjustment to the prompt but I hope you like it darling! 😘😘

This was supposed to be a temporary job. Just something to help her pay back her college loans before she could rush into the fray of revolution and overturn Norta's elites, to then (maybe) go back to the Lakelands and end the oppression of the proletariat there too.

It's been five years though, and Diana Farley is still teaching history at Saint Victoria Academy. It's not the excellent paycheck that keeps her here, which obviously comes from the pockets of Albanus' wealthiest families. Neither is it the solid friendship she found with most of her colleagues, or the fully stocked coffee bar at the teacher's lounge. What keeps her here, despite her resentment toward the unequal access to quality education of this system, is the fact that she gets to impart knowledge and plant the seeds of radical ideas on eager, inquisitive minds. Her classes are known for prolonged debates and extensive, unconventional reading material.

The kids (teens, to be more exact) she teaches blossom into new ideas like wildflowers in spring. It's beautiful to witness, and it makes her feel a deep responsibility to the task. So, she keeps showing them the most brutally honest and nuanced versions of historical events. At least until the day the school board decides she's gone too far and fires her. It hasn't happened yet, though she knows it someday will. She's not being paranoid, numerous pearl clutching parents have threatened her with this. Farley could not care less.

As she makes her way to the teachers' lounge, she sees a temporary in memoriam wall dedicated to Sister Blonos. A picture with a candle underneath. RIP her least favorite colleague.

It's not that Farley's a bitch, but the nun did call her a wretched commie lesbian on numerous occasions, and outright told her she was going to hell for corrupting children several more. There was no love lost between her and the late Theology teacher. Now, if Blonos had been a bit more like Sister Nanny, the music and theatre teacher, that would have been a whole 'nother story. There's a living example of ‘the Lord's love’ (whatever that means).

Unsurprisingly, she's the first one to arrive. Everyone else is probably trading summer vacation anecdotes at the parking lot, jokingly moping about school starting again. Farley is actually excited to get back in the trenches of education. Her classroom is all set up already with maps, her laptop loaded with cool diagrams and presentations. She's come armed to this fight.

She takes her place on the long mahogany table, sitting down on the high-backed leather chair, spins to face the inner grounds of Saint Victoria Academy through the big, ancient windows.

"...Just try to keep the experiments to a minimum, Miss Barrow. I'm not asking for a lot."

"How else are the punks going to pay attention? Besides, it was just a few lightbulbs, geesh."

"It was half the building's electric installation."

"A cheap price for the treasure of knowledge. Don't tell me how to do my job. You're not the boss of me."

"I am your superior!"

"Are you now? That makes quite the HR complain about what you were making me do last night!"

"You were literally begging—"

Diana coughs loudly and spins the chair around to let the newly arrived pair know she's there.

Vice Principal Calore and Miss Barrow (or simply Mare for her) both halt to a stop, paling at the sight of her. Farley can see them mentally calculating whether their angry whispers were loud enough to reach her. In the name of friendship, Farley is willing to play dumb and let her closest co-worker delude herself into thinking that her inappropriate relationship is still a secret. As if no one has seen Calore preparing her coffee how she likes it, every day for two years now. Amongst other glaring sings.

"Good morning, Mare," Diana fakes surprise without putting too much effort into it. "Sir," she nods at Calore. "How was your summer?"

"Great!" they reply at the same time, making Mare glare at him. He smooths his tie, lowers his head and walks over to the coffee bar... and starts preparing two cups.

Farley inwardly rolls her eyes. Seriously, why do they even bother?

Mare sits down across from her. She starts telling her of the dog she found/adopted, which is a cute story sure, but when the rest of the teachers walk in the lounge, Diana stops listening.

There are two men she doesn't recognize. One of them is a priest, and that's all the assessment he elicits. The other is a lean man with honey eyes on a handsome, gentle face comprised of soft angles that grant him that perpetually young look.

Button down shirt, knit vest, slacks, and moccasins outfit straight out of the teacher's section of the rack. The fact that his chestnut curls are forcibly combed flat to the side annoys her for some reason.

She imagines carding her fingers through the curls to loosen them to their natural state and her breath shallows for a cycle. Not that she cares about appearances but she is not a liar either. Truth is, that is a perfect human being where aesthetics are concerned.

The man smiles down at Mare and rubs her shoulder, who looks up placing her hand upon his.

"You're here! Farley, this is my brother. The decent one."

"Shade?" she remembers quickly.

He smiles the sort of smile that cures illnesses and lights up rooms, looking at her now.

"The very one. I'm afraid to ask about what has she told you about the rest of the family."

"You should be," Diana replies.

Shade beams and makes a hand gesture toward the free chair next to hers. There are no assigned seats so she tells him that.

The meeting starts. Calore welcomes them, makes a pun about the blackout incident Miss Barrow caused last year and they all laugh. He sobers up to remind them of Sister Blonos' passing, of the math department hiring a new teacher, then proceeds with other announcements.

"They should have just saved the time and money from Blonos' class and used it for something worthwhile, for a change," Diana mumbles low enough that only Shade can hear her.

He subtly slides his chair closer to hers.

"I'm sure she can't have been that bad.”

"I won't speak ill of the dead, but I was talking about Theology. There's a useless class if I ever heard of one."

He blinks several times at her brutal honesty.

"Don't you think kids have a right to wonder about that which they cannot see?"

"You mean physics?" Farley interprets the question liberally to make her point. "That's what your sister is here for."

"Physics phenomena are measurable."

"And religion is the opium of the masses."

"Ah Marx, old fella," the corner of Shade's mouth twitches as if they’re sharing a private joke. Something unfurls inside her like a cat placidly stretching under the sun.

Farley is just a bit impressed a math teacher knows who the quote actually belongs to.

"Before that, though," Shade proceeds, leaning in so close she can smell his cologne. Damn, it’s really nice. "He writes that religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature."

Fair enough. Farley finds it hard to look away once her gaze has settled on him. Like trying to lift a spoon from a jar of thick honey, much like the rich color of his eyes.

She arches an eyebrow.

"If comfort is what we're talking about then psychology should suffice, or even art. Again, classes we already have."

"Art is to the soul what religion is to the spirit. That's where theology comes in. To add a different perspective to the way our students can see the world."

"It creates division and wars. I would know: I teach them."

"Fear and ignorance create those. Actual knowledge would do the opposite and create mutual understanding,” he whispers passionately.

"Actual knowledge" she repeats pointedly, "not that archaic bullshit filled with prejudice, meant to maintain the status quo and keep the working class blinded with fairy tales. Theology is delusional garbage."

Shade stares at her so intently, for so long that it feels as if time has stopped, suspended from a thin thread. Waiting to snap at the first sound or blink. Every fiber in her being is strung up, ready for something to happen.

"Revolutions are built on faith," he delivers like a killing blow.

The tension in her releases in the form of all consuming, violent indignation.

She intends to tell him a long list of real things successful revolutions were based on, ask him who the fuck does he think he is to mansplain this topic to her. "Are you—?!"

"Thank you for your words, Father Cortez!" Calore claps giving her a look to shut up and pay attention. Shoot, the priest was speaking and she didn't even notice.

Go to hell Calore, walking HR nightmare. She mentally shouts, squinting her eyes at him, joining on the round of polite applause.

"We're all happy to welcome you to the math department."

Wait... if the priest is the math teacher if that means...

Farley's hands freeze mid applause as she turns to...

"And the second incorporation this year." Calore smiles and extends his hand in to the chair beside hers. "Shade Barrow. Our new Theology teacher."

If there is a god, they must be laughing at her. Fuck.

#Shade Barrow #Diana farley #Fade #Shade x Diana #Red queen series #RQ fanfic #my fics #ask

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grandhotelabyss · 2 years

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Hi, “imagined you in a fistfight on Twitter” guy here again. I somehow missed your acknowledgement of me on here the first time, although I can’t say I’m surprised to find out Carriere was in logo/Kantbot’s orbit. I was in considerably more vulgar though related spheres at the time- a curious thing about the culture war of the 2010s is that everyone right (at least online) seems to have some kind of prehistory on the left, and everyone left has some sort of prehistory on the right. Hell, I’ll admit that in that first flowering of antiwoke populism 10 years ago I even entertained a kind of neoneoconservative hope that the right could restore a sense of healthy liberalism to culture- and now I too sit in the grand hotel overlooking the abyss.

Thank you—and thanks for indulging the way I've blown up your Tweet into part of my "lore." In case you don't know my story, I'll tell it quickly so I'm not concealing my background.

As your Tweet pointed out, I'm older than the people in this scene (not quite 42 though!). I contracted my first humanly irrelevant and unworkable meme ideology from the internet almost 20 years ago. Under the pressure of the Bush years and the Iraq War—we really did think they were Christian fundamentalists who would deliberately end the world—I found the Marxist blog circles of which Mark Fisher is now remembered as the laureate. Within a month or two in the winter of 2004-2005, I became essentially what Haz is now: a Stalinist anti-imperialist, the hard left of the hard left. I remember doing push-ups every day in case I had to join an Abraham Lincoln Brigade in Venezuela!

This period lasted until a year or two into graduate school, coinciding with Obama's election, when the coursework convinced me such an ideology implied a socially functional approach to the arts, a puritan-iconoclast obliteration of literature by sociology, even a psychotic totalitarian terror of the emotions loosed by art. I decided the attitude I'd first carried to college with me as a lower-middle-class suburban teen remained far superior to Marxism: a flexible apolitical liberalism or "left conservatism" fortified by the aestheticism of The Western Canon and Sexual Personae (and ethically protected by the crypto Judaism and Catholicism, respectively, of those volumes). I stood down politically and wrote my dissertation as a defense of modernist l'art pour l'art—implicitly and inherently queer, for whatever it's worth to the people coming after me for my answer to that last question about alchemy. From that vantage, I watched the big woke-NRx wars of the last decade with alternating spasms of panic and mirth.

As for the whole sick crew of online ideologues, though, I wouldn't be so hard on them, at least not on the ones truly innocent of raw political power. When called upon to justify her own cultural and political shifts over the years, from radical anti-war activist to liberal pro-war activist and from avant-garde theorist to high-middlebrow novelist, Susan Sontag said the critical intellect always had to assault whatever was hegemonic because it was hegemonic, thus reified and soul-dead (I paraphrase and elaborate), hence her attack on high culture at the beginning of her career and her defense of it at the end. This seems right to me. If there weren't contrarians, even mindless knee-jerk contrarians, there wouldn't be anything, just the heat death of culture. Modern culture is dialectical; it functions only by negation. A major writer or thinker without either wild political shifts or, if they stayed on one side, work torn with political contradictions, is an impossibility. As a guardrail to negation, however, writers and thinkers should stay out of practical politics—out of Hanoi, out of Sarajevo, out of empire's (whichever empire's) direct line of business. The man said "unofficial legislators," emphasis on "unofficial."

But I believe the last decade's radical politics of left and right are over now—as I could feel the foreshocks of identitarian militancy in the college classroom in 2013, so I feel the foreshocks of ironic metaphysical quietism in 2023—and it's time for most people in the arts, if they can, to rest, to retreat into art and spirituality, to recover for a while.

#american politics #the new conservatism

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worldenough-and-time · 1 year

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ten books

Thanks @spindrifters for the tag!

(In no particular order)

1. The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger (no surprise given my handle, but this is maybe my favorite book ever. I reread it last year to confirm, and yes it still is the best, and I made the mistake of reading the ending while away for the weekend at a friend’s wedding and I cried my fucking eyes out and then I did just a little bit of psilocybin and sang country songs with my friends and had a long talk with my other friend about our creative aspirations and then I was seriously ill for about a week after that, which may or may not have had anything to do with the choices I’d made the previous evening. Anyway, it’s just a great love story. I’m a simple girl.)

2. Beautiful World, Where Are You By Sally Rooney (Everyone has the Sally Rooney book that feels like she read their fucking diary and this one is mine. No, I won’t tell you which parts. But I will tell you that I think the Wedding Chapter in this book is maybe the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read. I’m not exaggerating. I slept with this book next to my bed for weeks and finally to break my attachment to it and read something else, I gave it to my friend who hates Sally Rooney to read on her way to London. She did hate it- couldn’t even get past the phone sex scene, which honestly if you don’t think that’s one of the most romantic things you’ve ever read, I really don’t know how to help you. How could you not love this book??! It’s half emails!)

3. The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater (I know this is a series but idc, if I could only pick one it’d be The Dream Thieves but all these books are the Books of My Heart. I reread them pretty much every year. Look, sometimes you’re in college and for the first time in your life you have Guy Friends, and you are a little bit in love with all of them, even though you are all young fucking idiots, and it feels like a revelation for some reason. Anyone? No? Just me? Well, Maggie Stiefvater wrote a book series about that experience so now I don’t have to.)

4. Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (This book feels like falling in love. All my favorite books feel like falling in love.)

5. Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir (This is really a catch all for the whole series but I’m a Harrowhark bitch through and through, also this book literally rewired my brain such that I could only write in second person for like two months. I think Tamsyn Muir is a mad genius.)

6. Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki (Might be recency bias but I just finished one and really really loved it!)

7. The Host, Stephanie Meyer (I know this is such a weird pick and I could just… not, BUT I unironically love this book. I read it in high school I’ve reread it several times since, it’s kind of a comfort book? Idk how to explain it, but cringe is dead so here we are.)

8. The Fault in Our Stars by John Green (look, you either love JG or you don’t, but I love his writing so much and this book came out my senior year of high school and I carried it around with me in my backpack for months and whenever I would feel sad I would reread it in the middle of class and Mel and I tried to adapt it into a piece for our HS speech team and I can still recite quotes from it and it still means a lot to me.)

9. Fruits Basket by Natsuki Takaya (okay I know this is a manga series and it’s technically 23 books, but Furuba is my Bible, and any list without it would be wrong. I read it for the first time at 12 and I reread it every couple of years and every time I come away with something new. Also I think the original TokyoPop translation is far superior to the Viz editions and it makes me sad that they’re harder to find these days. The 2019 anime adaptation is beautiful but again, I think the TokyoPop translation is better than the anime subs. This series fucking raised me. That is all.)

10. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (look LOOK, it might be the great American novel, okay? It feels so stupid to have it on this list, like, Sam, people fucking know The Great Gatsby is good, we all had to read it for school. Idk man. I love Fitzgerald, truly the saddest sad sack there ever was. His wife was infinitely cooler than him. But God damn could that man write a sentence.)

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jonathanwrotethis · 7 months

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An unexpected running accomplice

Several years ago a community policing programme visited the green outside our house. Our daughter disappeared mid-morning, and we presumed she might be too nervous to talk to real police officers. We forgot all about it until early afternoon, and looked out of the window to see her engaged in discussion with a weary looking senior police officer. I pulled my shoes on, and wandered out to rescue him.

"Your daughter's knowledge of police work is frightening!"

"I'm so sorry!"

"No, not a bit of it - it's good to know the service will be in good hands one day!"

And then she finished college with stunning exam results, and applied to join.

She got nowhere.

Of course the police can't take people straight from college. It makes perfect sense - you need life experience - it's more important than any textbook or course.

While disappointed, she started thinking about what she might do next.

Rather than do nothing, she took a job at a local pub - the perfect place to get life experience, and instead learned about dysfunctional organisations, broken staff, and abusive customers. After surviving that for a year, she walked into a job at a local cafe, and is still there now - originally hired with the promise of learning to cook, but eventually facing a wall of washing up every day.

While treading water - going nowhere fast - the cogs started turning again, and her focus turned to the army. In many ways she's become the square peg that's discovered the square hole made perfectly for her.

We're half-way through the sign-up procedure at the moment (for the second time - another story for another day) - and she has a target to reach in time for the next round of inductions. A body mass index target.

She's never been slim. Never been skinny. And yet if you ever wanted anybody to perform a feat of superhuman strength while cornered - she's the most likely candidate you might ever imagine.

A few nights ago my other half quietly asked if I might invite her to go running with me. She's always sought my approval, so it might be an easy win. The night before last, while washing up in the kitchen before dinner I asked her if she wanted to head out for a run - expecting laughter.

"Ok!"

My other half shouted through from the lounge;

"I'll finish making dinner for you"

And that's how we found ourself stood outside a few minutes later in shorts and waterproof coats (it was raining), with head torches on, in the early winter evening.

She ran 3 kilometres. I ran 5. After cajoling her through those first three kilometres, I carried on - surprising myself enormously. I worried as I ran from her that my actions might be counter-productive, but not a bit of it. She has another target - me. She wants to run as far as I can. Further than I can.

Tomorrow morning we're going again. Another few kilometres around town before breakfast - with the promise of a cooked breakfast at the end - at the cafe where she works.

I'm looking forward to it.

Many years ago - when she was little - we visited a recreation of an iron-age village, where she took part in numerous activities during the day. One of the activities involved making wattle and daub walling for a house - with liquid mud that the children were told included horse manure. She heaved repeatedly, but carried on - doggedly - not wanting to let anybody down.

The memory of that day tells me that she will do just fine in the army. Some superior might stand over her, screaming at her, but she'll just keep going. If they shout at her to levitate, she'll probably try.

Anyway.

She's been on a mission for the last several months - getting up at 6am, going to "boot camp", cutting out rubbish from her diet, and now running too.

"Ok!"

My other half shouted through from the lounge;

"I'll finish making dinner for you"

And that's how we found ourself stood outside a few minutes later in shorts and waterproof coats (it was raining), with head torches on, in the early winter evening.

Tomorrow morning we're going again. Another few kilometres around town before breakfast - with the promise of a cooked breakfast at the end - at the cafe where she works.

I'm looking forward to it.

#Life #Running #Health #Fitness

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warblingandwriting · 1 year

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So I wrote a short review of this book on goodreads... like forever ago, but I’m still thinking about it, and I wanted to write some more words about because I think it’s interesting, and also a potentially interesting case of an author feeling ‘stuck’ to a style? To be clear I pretty much don’t know anything about her except that I read this book and a few other reviews of it, but those other reviews made me a bit interested in why this book is structured in the way that it is. Full, longer review will be below the cut!

See, this book has three (really four, but maybe more like 3.5? I’ll get to it) sections. We begin with Rob, Now about a woman is a truly terrible marriage trying to manage her two daughters, the seemingly troublemaker-type Callie, who often bullies her younger, seemingly angelic, sister Annie. When Callie nearly chokes Annie, Rob decides she needs to go back to the place where she grew up, a sort of hippie compound called Sundial, and bring Callie with her to try and help her. As they embark on this road trip, we get the second perspective in the novel: Callie. Callie it seems can see ghosts, figments of dead animals, when she preserves and puts together their skeletons, as well as ‘Pale Callie’ who seems to be an alternate version of herself. As mother and daughter try to reconcile, they are inter-cut with what I think is the best, most compelling section: Rob, Then wherein Rob’s childhood is related to us through a series of extended flashbacks.

I rated this book 3 stars mostly for that third section. The relationship between Rob, her sister Jack, and their father and stepmother is an interesting and increasingly convoluted dynamic, and the tension between their genuine care for this compound that is all they’ve ever known, vs their desire to explore the world they’ve glimpsed in haphazard media left behind by the college students who come to visit Sundial and study the dogs raised there are genuinely interesting and affecting story beats, especially when Jack and Rob are written so sympathetically. I enjoyed the Callie sections as well, she’s an interesting character, and although young, also clearly has a compelling conflict, and the mystery of her pale friends is genuinely intriguing. She’s written well, and she feels young, but not too annoying. Still though, I wish that section wasn’t there simply due to the amount of distaste I have for the Rob, Now sections. I found Rob, Now exhausting, and it sort of felt like it only existed to foreshadow and hint at the far superior Rob, Then sections, which reveal certain mysteries as the book goes on. Thematically, the whole thing ties together, I just wish it had gone in a different direction both story-wise and theme-wise in general.

Present-day Rob feels almost nothing like her past self, which on the one hand can be explained away by many years, two children, and a terrible marriage, but to me it seemed more like a cheap way to bolster the ambiguity between Rob and Jack. At the end of the novel certain events take place that imply that the character we know as ‘Rob’ may actually have been the Jack of the flashbacks, something that ultimately didn’t seem to mean anything. Maybe that she is more dangerous than she seems (Jack apparently has some inherent aggression genes that were successfully suppressed in Rob). But since they attempted to suppress Rob’s in the same way, I’m just not sure if there’s a meaningful difference between ‘It was Jack the whole time and she’s dangerous!’ and ‘Rob’s special serum is actually wearing off and she’s dangerous!’

And then there’s the 0.5 section. Rob, in order to cope with her shit marriage writes some extremely dark fiction about children at a boarding school. I do not know why it was included in the final book, the sections are well-written, but they have absolutely no affect on the story, and don’t really tell us anything about Rob that we don’t either already know from the beginning (for instance, her animosity towards Callie) or find out about her by the end (mommy issues). I just think the story would be neater without it, and as much as on their own I enjoyed the segments, I felt like they didn’t add anything to a story I felt had too many different parts in regards to the content already.

It makes me a bit sad because I think I would really have loved the book it was only the Rob, Then sections (and if the ending of that particular section was slightly different). But, ultimately that’s a matter of personal taste, and as I mentioned in my other, shorter review, at this in my life I can relate a lot more to a young woman trying to figure out her place in the world than I can a grown woman dealing with a bad marriage and a rebellious child, so that may have coloured my thoughts. See, thematically, the book seems to largely be about recursion, and here’s where I’ll put in all the big plot twist spoilers, and talk about why I think marketing potentially had something to do with the reasons this book turned out the way it is, so be warned, there are actual (good) twists in this book, and they will be spoiled.

So essentially the woman that Rob thinks is her stepmother, and the man she thinks is her biological father are both her and Jack’s adoptive parents. Their real parents were horrifically abusive, and Rob killed them so that she and Jack could escape, but they lived out in the desert middle of nowhere (apparently because they sold drugs) and so when Rob and Jack got out the first place they found was Sundial. The two owners took the girls and apparently let them name themselves (and they gave themselves the names of their abusive parents-Robert and Jacqueline). However, as they put it in the book, the two girls were still in ‘survival mode’ and were basically feral. Especially Rob, who apparently tried to kill both her adoptive parents, and Jack at different intervals. In order to calm down both the girls they basically started experimenting on them, and they are actually testing dogs at the facility with the same serum they used on Rob and Jack to try to mitigate any side-effects they might have.

This makes Rob lose her memory of what happened before, so her sister creates a sort of fantasy for her where their adoptive father had a wife who died, who was their mother, and their current adoptive mother is their stepmother. This is all revealed non-linearly, as the actual story of these two girls basically deciding whether or not to leave Sundial takes place. Jack has started to have visions (that seem really similar to Callie’s current visions of dead creatures), and has been acting weird and distant from Rob. She eventually tries to run off with one of the college students studying there, but Mia (the adoptive mother) catches them and brings her back. Jack says, basically, that she wanted to escape. This also gets the guy she tries to run off with kicked out of his fancy school because she’s underage at the time.

Eventually Rob decides to go to college, but Jack says she can’t come since her violent tendencies have come back too strongly for her to live a normal life. At college Rob meets the same guy Jack tried to run off with, and they date for a while, then break up because she’s not trad enough for him, but the break up is sort of the catalyst for Rob making friends with her previously distant roommates, and college life starts to look up for her (plus that guy sucks anyway, so really everything is going great). Then Jack shows up and gets Rob to come back to Sundial with her. They find out they’re pregnant by the same guy, and during a fight between them, Rob loses her baby. She really wanted to keep it, but everyone resolves to basically stay at Sundial and raise the remaining baby together. After she’s born, though, Jack hurts one of the more dangerous dogs and lets it in the house because she doesn’t believe she can continue to be good, or be a good mother. Basically she wants to ‘test’ the serum by putting one of the dogs in distress, because she thinks she’ll act the same way if she becomes distressed.

Everyone dies except for Rob (or maybe Jack, this is the point where present day Rob, who is telling this part to Callie, may be lying) and the baby, who Rob resolves to raise. However, the shitty guy that dated both of them shows up at this point (Rob’s roommate/friend called him because she was worried about her) and basically says they can pretend they just showed up and found everyone dead from the dogs, and she should marry him so they can raise the baby, and so that he can have the ‘traditional’ life he’s always wanted.

When present-day Rob finishes the story her husband shows up, wanting to kill her and take Callie (who is his favourite) back. Instead Callie and Rob kill him, and bury him in the desert, then head home. On the drive back Callie reveals that she hasn’t been the one killing animals and making them her pale friends, Anna has been killing them the whole time, and Callie, out of compassion, collected their bones so that they could have a new new afterlife with her (and Pale Callie is of course implied to be Rob’s biological fetus that was miscarried). She also reveals that Anna loves her mother so much she has plan to kill the neighbour because the husband was having an affair with her. They race home hoping to catch Anna before she does anything, but also resolving to help her cover it up if they arrive and the neighbour is already dead.

And I get the themes here, the recursion in Callie and Jack, the sins of the parents passed down to their children (from the original Robert and Jaquelin, to the main sisters Rob and Jack, and then down to Callie and Anna), but I just think an ending with Rob, alone with her niece, unsure of what to do next, would be a much more effective ambiguous ending. Then we don’t know if the sins of the mother are passed down, there is hope there, and despair, and potential for Callie and Rob. But perhaps I’m just too invested in a somewhat happy ending.

However, I don’t think this is a terrible book, and my summary is truncated so if you read this and it sounds interesting I wouldn’t ward you away from it. That said, after I read this book, I learned a little about the author’s previous novel, The Last House on Needless Street that was apparently a huge success, and it made me wonder...

Now this is all complete speculation, created whole-cloth from observing media trends, and reading the reviews of Sundial that compared it to the author’s previous book, The Last House on Needless Street, and I think some of the nature of this book, in particular the Rob, Now sections may have been to appease a publisher that wanted something similar to her previous novel. See, that book is about a man who was suspected of the murder of a child many years ago, but no one could ever prove it. And to me, the sort of blurring of morality, and the uncertainty of which characters are good or bad, seems very in line with what happens in Sundial, in particular the obscurity and twists around Rob and Jack’s life. And a part of me wonders if the book was supposed to be at one point just the ‘then’ sections, and the ‘now’ sections were added later because they fit in with the previous book more. And, on top of that, the twists and turns that certain reviews implied were evocative of Needless Street as well.

Again, I have no proof, it was just a thought that crossed my mind. Anyway, I have written a lot of words on what I still think is a three-star book, fun read but not life changing, so I’ll end things here. If you are a fan of psychological horror, I think you’d really enjoy this one.

#books #book review #reading #horror #novel #my stuff #writing #Sundial #Like yes the book was mid-tier for me but it was because there were two different perspectives #and one was like a 4-5 star #and the other was 2 star #My Writing

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bao3bei4 · 3 years

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fan language: the victorian imaginary and cnovel fandom

there’s this pinterest image i’ve seen circulating a lot in the past year i’ve been on fandom social media. it’s a drawn infographic of a, i guess, asian-looking woman holding a fan in different places relative to her face to show what the graphic helpfully calls “the language of the fan.”

people like sharing it. they like thinking about what nefarious ancient chinese hanky code shenanigans their favorite fan-toting character might get up to⁠—accidentally or on purpose. and what’s the problem with that?

the problem is that fan language isn’t chinese. it’s victorian. and even then, it’s not really quite victorian at all.

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fans served a primarily utilitarian purpose throughout chinese history. of course, most of the surviving fans we see⁠—and the types of fans we tend to care about⁠—are closer to art pieces. but realistically speaking, the majority of fans were made of cheaper material for more mundane purposes. in china, just like all around the world, people fanned themselves. it got hot!

so here’s a big tipoff. it would be very difficult to use a fan if you had an elaborate language centered around fanning yourself.

you might argue that fine, everyday working people didn’t have a fan language. but wealthy people might have had one. the problem we encounter here is that fans weren’t really gendered. (caveat here that certain types of fans were more popular with women. however, those tended to be the round silk fans, ones that bear no resemblance to the folding fans in the graphic). no disrespect to the gnc old man fuckers in the crowd, but this language isn’t quite masc enough for a tool that someone’s dad might regularly use.

folding fans, we know, reached europe in the 17th century and gained immense popularity in the 18th. it was there that fans began to take on a gendered quality. ariel beaujot describes in their 2012 victorian fashion accessories how middle class women, in the midst of a top shortage, found themselves clutching fans in hopes of securing a husband.

she quotes an article from the illustrated london news, suggesting “women ‘not only’ used fans to ‘move the air and cool themselves but also to express their sentiments.’” general wisdom was that the movement of the fan was sufficiently expressive that it augmented a woman’s displays of emotion. and of course, the more english audiences became aware that it might do so, the more they might use their fans purposefully in that way.

notice, however, that this is no more codified than body language in general is. it turns out that “the language of the fan” was actually created by fan manufacturers at the turn of the 20th century⁠—hundreds of years after their arrival⁠ in europe—to sell more fans. i’m not even kidding right now. the story goes that it was louis duvelleroy of the maison duvelleroy who decided to include pamphlets on the language with each fan sold.

interestingly enough, beaujot suggests that it didn’t really matter what each particular fan sign meant. gentlemen could tell when they were being flirted with. as it happens, meaningful eye contact and a light flutter near the face may be a lingua franca.

so it seems then, the language of the fan is merely part of this victorian imaginary we collectively have today, which in turn itself was itself captivated by china.

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victorian references come up perhaps unexpectedly often in cnovel fandom, most often with regards to modesty.

it’s a bit of an awkward reference considering that chinese traditional fashion⁠—and the ambiguous time periods in which these novels are set⁠—far predate victorian england. it is even more awkward considering that victoria and her covered ankles did um. imperialize china.

but nonetheless, it is common. and to make a point about how ubiquitous it is, here is a link to the twitter search for “sqq victorian.” sqq is the fandom abbreviation for shen qingqiu, the main character of the scum villain’s self-saving system, by the way.

this is an awful lot of results for a search involving a chinese man who spends the entire novel in either real modern-day china or fantasy ancient china. that’s all i’m going to say on the matter, without referencing any specific tweet.

i think people are aware of the anachronism. and i think they don’t mind. even the most cursory research reveals that fan language is european and a revisionist fantasy. wikipedia can tell us this⁠—i checked!

but it doesn’t matter to me whether people are trying to make an internally consistent canon compliant claim, or whether they’re just free associating between fan facts they know. it is, instead, more interesting to me that people consistently refer to this particular bit of history. and that’s what i want to talk about today⁠—the relationship of fandom today to this two hundred odd year span of time in england (roughly stuart to victorian times) and england in that time period to its contemporaneous china.

things will slip a little here. victorian has expanded in timeframe, if only because random guys posting online do not care overly much for respect for the intricacies of british history. china has expanded in geographic location, if only because the english of the time themselves conflated china with all of asia.

in addition, note that i am critiquing a certain perspective on the topic. this is why i write about fan as white here⁠—not because all fans are white⁠—but because the tendencies i’m examining have a clear historical antecedent in whiteness that shapes how white fans encounter these novels.

i’m sure some fans of color participate in these practices. however i don’t really care about that. they are not its main perpetrators nor its main beneficiaries. so personally i am minding my own business on that front.

it’s instead important to me to illuminate the linkage between white as subject and chinese as object in history and in the present that i do argue that fannish products today are built upon.

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it’s not radical, or even new at all, for white audiences to consume⁠—or create their own versions of⁠—chinese art en masse. in many ways the white creators who appear to owe their whole style and aesthetic to their asian peers in turn are just the new chinoiserie.

this is not to say that white people can’t create asian-inspired art. but rather, i am asking you to sit with the discomfort that you may not like the artistic company you keep in the broader view of history, and to consider together what is to be done about that.

now, when i say the new chinoiserie, i first want to establish what the original one is. chinoiserie was a european artistic movement that appeared coincident with the rise in popularity of folding fans that i described above. this is not by coincidence; the european demand for asian imports and the eventual production of lookalikes is the movement itself. so: when we talk about fans, when we talk about china (porcelain), when we talk about tea in england⁠—we are talking about the legacy of chinoiserie.

there are a couple things i want to note here. while english people as a whole had a very tenuous knowledge of what china might be, their appetites for chinoiserie were roughly coincident with national relations with china. as the relationship between england and china moved from trade to out-and-out wars, chinoiserie declined in popularity until china had been safely subjugated once more by the end of the 19th century.

the second thing i want to note on the subject that contrary to what one might think at first, the appeal of chinoiserie was not that it was foreign. eugenia zuroski’s 2013 taste for china examines 18th century english literature and its descriptions of the according material culture with the lens that chinese imports might be formative to english identity, rather than antithetical to it.

beyond that bare thesis, i think it’s also worthwhile to extend her insight that material objects become animated by the literary viewpoints on them. this is true, both in a limited general sense as well as in the sense that english thinkers of the time self-consciously articulated this viewpoint. consider the quote from the illustrated london news above⁠—your fan, that object, says something about you. and not only that, but the objects you surround yourself with ought to.

it’s a bit circular, the idea that written material says that you should allow written material to shape your understanding of physical objects. but it’s both 1) what happened, and 2) integral, i think, to integrating a fannish perspective into the topic.

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japanning is the name for the popular imitative lacquering that english craftspeople developed in domestic response to the demand for lacquerware imports. in the eighteenth century, japanning became an artform especially suited for young women. manuals were published on the subject, urging young women to learn how to paint furniture and other surfaces, encouraging them to rework the designs provided in the text.

it was considered a beneficial activity for them; zuroski describes how it was “associated with commerce and connoisseurship, practical skill and aesthetic judgment.” a skillful japanner, rather than simply obscuring what lay underneath the lacquer, displayed their superior judgment in how they chose to arrange these new canonical figures and effects in a tasteful way to bring out the best qualities of them.

zuroski quotes the first english-language manual on the subject, written in 1688, which explains how japanning allows one to:

alter and correct, take out a piece from one, add a fragment to the next, and make an entire garment compleat in all its parts, though tis wrought out of never so many disagreeing patterns.

this language evokes a very different, very modern practice. it is this english reworking of an asian artform that i think the parallels are most obvious.

white people, through their artistic investment in chinese material objects and aesthetics, integrated them into their own subjectivity. these practices came to say something about the people who participated in them, in a way that had little to do with the country itself. their relationship changed from being a “consumer” of chinese objects to becoming the proprietor of these new aesthetic signifiers.

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i want to talk about this through a few pairs of tensions on the subject that i think characterize common attitudes then and now.

first, consider the relationship between the self and the other: the chinese object as something that is very familiar to you, speaking to something about your own self vs. the chinese object as something that is fundamentally different from you and unknowable to you.

consider: [insert character name] is just like me. he would no doubt like the same things i like, consume the same cultural products. we are the same in some meaningful way vs. the fast standard fic disclaimer that “i tried my best when writing this fic, but i’m a english-speaking westerner, and i’m just writing this for fun so...... [excuses and alterations the person has chosen to make in this light],” going hand-in-hand with a preoccupation with authenticity or even overreliance on the unpaid labor of chinese friends and acquaintances.

consider: hugh honour when he quotes a man from the 1640s claiming “chinoiserie of this even more hybrid kind had become so far removed from genuine Chinese tradition that it was exported from India to China as a novelty to the Chinese themselves”

these tensions coexist, and look how they have been resolved.

second, consider what we vest in objects themselves: beaujot explains how the fan became a sexualized, coquettish object in the hands of a british woman, but was used to great effect in gilbert and sullivan’s 1885 mikado to demonstrate the docility of asian women.

consider: these characters became expressions of your sexual desires and fetishes, even as their 5’10 actors themselves are emasculated.

what is liberating for one necessitates the subjugation and fetishization of the other.

third, consider reactions to the practice: enjoyment of chinese objects as a sign of your cosmopolitan palate vs “so what’s the hype about those ancient chinese gays” pop culture explainers that addressed the unconvinced mainstream.

consider: zuroski describes how both english consumers purchased china in droves, and contemporary publications reported on them. how:

It was in the pages of these papers that the growing popularity of Chinese things in the early eighteenth century acquired the reputation of a “craze”; they portrayed china fanatics as flawed, fragile, and unreliable characters, and frequently cast chinoiserie itself in the same light.

referenda on fannish behavior serve as referenda on the objects of their devotion, and vice versa. as the difference between identity and fetish collapses, they come to be treated as one and the same by not just participants but their observers.

at what point does mxtx fic cease to be chinese?

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finally, it seems readily apparent that attitudes towards chinese objects may in fact have something to do with attitudes about china as a country. i do not want to suggest that these literary concerns are primarily motivated and begot by forces entirely divorced from the real mechanics of power.

here, i want to bring in edward said, and his 1993 culture and imperialism. there, he explains how power and legitimacy go hand in hand. one is direct, and one is purely cultural. he originally wrote this in response to the outsize impact that british novelists have had in the maintenance of empire and throughout decolonization. literature, he argues, gives rise to powerful narratives that constrain our ability to think outside of them.

there’s a little bit of an inversion at play here. these are chinese novels, actually. but they’re being transformed by white narratives and artists. and just as i think the form of the novel is important to said’s critique, i think there’s something to be said about the form that fic takes and how it legitimates itself.

bound up in fandom is the idea that you have a right to create and transform as you please. it is a nice idea, but it is one that is directed towards a certain kind of asymmetry. that is, one where the author has all the power. this is the narrative we hear a lot in the history of fandom⁠—litigious authors and plucky fans, fanspaces always under attack from corporate sanitization.

meanwhile, said builds upon raymond schwab’s narrative of cultural exchange between european writers and cultural products outside the imperial core. said explains that fundamental to these two great borrowings (from greek classics and, in the so-called “oriental renaissance” of the late 18th, early 19th centuries from “india, china, japan, persia, and islam”) is asymmetry.

he had argued prior, in orientalism, that any “cultural exchange” between “partners conscious of inequality” always results in the suffering of the people. and here, he describes how “texts by dead people were read, appreciated, and appropriated” without the presence of any actual living people in that tradition.

i will not understate that there is a certain economic dynamic complicating this particular fannish asymmetry. mxtx has profited materially from the success of her works, most fans will not. also secondly, mxtx is um. not dead. LMAO.

but first, the international dynamic of extraction that said described is still present. i do not want to get overly into white attitudes towards china in this post, because i am already thoroughly derailed, but i do believe that they structure how white cnovel fandom encounters this texts.

at any rate, any profit she receives is overwhelmingly due to her domestic popularity, not her international popularity. (i say this because many of her international fans have never given her a cent. in fact, most of them have no real way to.) and moreover, as we talk about the structure of english-language fandom, what does it mean to create chinese cultural products without chinese people?

as white people take ownership over their versions of stories, do we lose something? what narratives about engagement with cnovels might exist outside of the form of classic fandom?

i think a lot of people get the relationship between ideas (the superstructure) and production (the base) confused. oftentimes they will lob in response to criticism, that look! this fic, this fandom, these people are so niche, and so underrepresented in mainstream culture, that their effects are marginal. i am not arguing that anyone’s cql fic causes imperialism. (unless you’re really annoying. then it’s anyone’s game)

i’m instead arguing something a little bit different. i think, given similar inputs, you tend to get similar outputs. i think we live in the world that imperialism built, and we have clear historical predecessors in terms of white appetites for creating, consuming, and transforming chinese objects.

we have already seen, in the case of the fan language meme that began this post, that sometimes we even prefer this white chinoiserie. after all, isn’t it beautiful, too?

i want to bring discomfort to this topic. i want to reject the paradigm of white subject and chinese object; in fact, here in this essay, i have tried to reverse it.

if you are taken aback by the comparisons i make here, how can you make meaningful changes to your fannish practice to address it?

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some concluding thoughts on the matter, because i don’t like being misunderstood!

i am not claiming white fans cannot create fanworks of cnovels or be inspired by asian art or artists. this essay is meant to elaborate on the historical connection between victorian england and cnovel characters and fandom that others have already popularized.

i don’t think people who make victorian jokes are inherently bad or racist. i am encouraging people to think about why we might make them and/or share them

the connections here are meant to be more provocative than strictly literal. (e.g. i don’t literally think writing fanfic is a 1-1 descendant of japanning). these connections are instead meant to 1) make visible the baggage that fans of color often approach fandom with and 2) recontextualize and defamiliarize fannish practice for the purposes of honest critique

please don’t turn this post into being about other different kinds of discourse, or into something that only one “kind” of fan does. please take my words at face value and consider them in good faith. i would really appreciate that.

please feel free to ask me to clarify any statements or supply more in-depth sources :)

#x #-__- another fandom essay sorry

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