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mybukz · 7 months

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"Writer’s Postcards" by Dipika Mukherjee: Review by Lawrence Pettener

Dipika Mukherjee is a globe-trotting poet, sociolinguist, writer, editor and educator who often travels alone. Her family and friends are scattered worldwide: Malaysia, Chicago and Delhi to name but a few.

To offset our dizziness with Mukherjee’s continual world tour, we are brought into the subjective world of a poet early on, with the disarming assertion that the cicak (gecko)’s “thik thik thik” sound is repeating ‘truth’ in Bengali. She goes on to say, “What we do is so inexplicable to the more pragmatic.”

One clear thing Mukherjee does here is to stand for the oppressed, detailing migrant workers’ poetry. She is told first hand of Tibetans escaping Chinese repression:

“…trying to avoid the splitting ice and the strong currents… they took turns to piggyback the young ones, but inevitably… some were lost in these passes, while the sick had to be abandoned.”

She relays the message: “One person blows up a building and the media has pictures everywhere, but our youth are burning themselves and no one cares.” While Dipika sometimes backs up her political punches with literary references—on self-censorship, she quotes Jane Austen—she certainly remedies whatever ‘harmlessness’ an earlier reviewer accused her editing of.

We also get into specific details; ghungroos are bells, but they could be creatures or a vehicle from a Dr. Seuss novel. True to form, the author credits the translator of every work cited. Far from simply being nice, it’s all part of Dipika’s revolt against historical erasure, as she puts it.

Mukherjee deploys declamatory one-line paragraphs as little jabs of truth or summation, occasional fresh claims that could easily belong in the preceding or following paragraph. She uses them sparingly enough not to clobber us over the head with them, as in advertising copy, interspersing them with longer paragraphs.

Penguin have never been strong on proofreading since the early eighties, to put it politely. Here, the Hindu deity Dasarath is spelled Dasarth, and the sacred plant tulsi starts with upper- and lower-case ‘T’ randomly.

As with Mukherjee’s recent poetry collection, Dialects from Distant Harbors, these nuanced pieces bring to mind BBC Radio 4’s From Our Own Correspondent; the pleasurable, subjective pieces balancing the hard reportage. Mukherjee honours local efforts and enactors such as Malaysia’s preeminent creative writing host (Readings at Seksan) and teacher Sharon Bakar.

As most of these pieces are not about herself—though some of the strongest, most connecting passages here relate to the deaths of her brother and her father—if Mukherjee occupies one clear role, it has to be that of representative or champion of others.

Interview

Lawrence Pettener: Dipika, you wear so many hats and do so many things: lecturing, judging competitions, editing, panels, your own writing. How do you stay on top of it all?

Dipika Mukherjee: Nowadays, I think everybody’s being tested for various inability-to-stay-focused issues to put it euphemistically. I think I may actually have some ADD (sic) as well, because what I find is that I actually work best when I’m working on more than one project, ‘cause I tend to get bored very easily. So let’s say I’m writing a novel and it’s going well, but then, you know, you hit a bump as one always does and then I have maybe an academic project which is very cut and dried, and I don’t have to expend my imagination; so I find that if I switch my brain to something more cut and dried that just needs to get done, then I come back to the imaginative project feeling rejuvenated. But if I keep hammering away at my, you know, “Come on Muse, where are you?!”, it’s just so tedious for the process and for me of course.   So then very often I have at least two projects on; and sometimes a poem pops into my head because of something that happens. I secretly write from a point of rage! (Laughs.) So let’s say I read something in the newspaper, or I see something happening out in the street, and something overtakes everything else that I’m doing, and I feel I need to get a poem out, or maybe a short piece of fiction that addresses the immediacy of what I’m feeling.

LP: Maybe you’re one of these people who, like me, might have fifty to a hundred Internet tabs open at once?

DM: Yes, I’m a little compulsive about that! I try not to have more than about twenty-two open!

LP: I should follow that.

DM: I know, it’s like throwing stuff out of my cupboard and not letting that overwhelm, because I do tend to be a little bit of a going-down-the-rabbit-hole person, so if something else is interesting and shiny, and gleaming, I just rush to it. But as I’m getting older I’ve learned to control that. I use the Pomodoro Technique, do you know that?

LP: Yes but I’ve forgotten.

DM: OK. You can find timers online, and you write for twenty-five minutes and then you take a break for either five or fifteen. And what helped with my writing, when it’s not going well, is if I know I only have to sit down for twenty-five minutes, and after that I’m free to go and make myself a coffee, I really do sit down. And then what happens is that in twenty-five minutes I may be at a point where something is taking off; so I make myself some coffee and come right back.   Whereas I think that if I sit in front of just a blank sheet of paper and think, I have to get Chapter Four done, it’s so intimidating. Twenty-five minutes isn’t, because you can sit there and shake your leg – watch this (shakes leg; laughter).  LP: Yes, I tell my students the best way to write a poetry collection is to flit between five or ten pieces simultaneously. They feed into each other; it shows which ones don’t fit into the collection.

DM: Absolutely. I have not actually ever tried that, but I think I might. The other thing I find when I’m teaching writing is that students are often very concerned about having spent a lot of time writing something they’ll never publish or never use and which they feel is like a bunch of rubbish. I actually have a folder for unused writing, or writing in progress, is what I title it. I often cannibalise from that folder, because sometimes when you’re kind of lost for ideas, you go back to a piece of writing and once it’s been marinating for however long, it doesn’t look that bad, and you can still see the bones of it, the ones you can use. And you don’t have to use it as it is, but it’s a wonderful jumping-off point, you know? And I think anything that frees you from a blank page is a good thing, because a blank page almost universally for writers is a very daunting thing.

LP: It could be the opposite of a rabbit hole in a way. What would be the opposite of a rabbit-hole though? Serous question.  DM: Yeah, for me I think it would be sort of just being mind-blocked, and not having your mind going anywhere. Thankfully again, because of the way I think my mind is, it doesn’t happen too often. But again, you have what the Buddhists call the monkey mind, right? Then also, you’re really not doing yourself any favours, and ultimately you get to a point where you’re so frustrated and discombobulated that it goes nowhere.

So I try to in a way structure my time into bits where I have to let go after a certain time. That’s my Pomodoro Technique. It has helped me because as a person I’m naturally not inclined to stop worrying something until it’s done to death, whereas now if I know that, OK, I’ve got it in a schedule, twenty-five minutes, and I have X, Y, Z things to get done, I will move on instead of wasting the whole day.

LP: How often do you manage to read others’ poetry yourself?

DM: Sometimes when I’m writing my own poetry, or editing it, I find it very useful to read people that I absolutely adore. Naomi Shihab Nye is a favourite, because she writes political poetry with great heart; I like Mary Oliver. I like Billy Collins, you know all these people who write with a great deal of heart. I think that kind of helps me put my own poems into perspective, because as I said I do often start from a point of rage, and that rage overcomes any poetic beauty.

Whereas getting back and latching on to somebody who writes lyrically, about things that are important, kind of centres me as well; it doesn’t all have to be vomiting stress. It can be beauty, even within the stress.

LP: I was discussing your poetry with somebody who said, from what I’d shown them of your stuff, that perhaps you didn’t take on social issues enough.

DM: I think I do take on social issues wherever I can. I was listening to this lecture by Gitanjali Shree, who has just won the Booker Prize for Tomb of Sand. She said very eloquently – far more eloquently than I’ll be able to tell you right now – is that there is a kind of a global movement now, because the world is just such a shithole place rally, I mean every country has so many problems; there is such a burden now on writers to lead the protest. But it��s not our job, it’s never our job to be in protest lands, and leading protests with little soundbites about what we feel.

What we like to do is go off and do the writing that sometimes addresses these issues, but I do not feel like I have to address every issue in Malaysia. I do not have to address the traffic jams, and the racial inequities, and the school system. I mean, I would go mad!

So I think I’ll pick and choose, and because I have such a strong allegiance to three countries, I will write about the anti-Muslim sentiments in India, which I’ve done in this book in a few poems; I’ll write about the Trump presidency and the marginalisation of any non-white people in America, which I have also done here; and I’ve addressed Malaysian problems in various books, including my debut novel, which was never published here because of that; because it starts off with a chapter on a model being blown up in the fields of Shah Alam (greater Kuala Lumpur area). Any Malaysian knows that politically that’s very, very controversial.

That’s Ode to Broken Things, and it’s related to the death of a model who was the mistress of the powers that be. It’s available here. I did have a Malaysian publisher but he pulled out about four months before the publication. And by that time it had already gone into print in other parts of the world, but he wrote a very – ‘kesian’ is the only word that comes to mind – a very sad email saying that he can’t publish it here because it will pretty certainly get banned, and he will lose his job and it will affect the livelihood of everyone who works for that company.

I have a little bit of an advantage in that I don’t live here but then it will affect my ability to come back. So I also don’t want to rock the boat too much.

LP: This recalls Preeta Samarasan’s latest novel, The Tale of the Dreamer’s Son.

DM: I was supposed to be moderating the launch of her book, and obviously because of my own book tour, which took me to many countries, I fell a little behind and I couldn’t read it. But I love Preeta’s work; I loved Evening is the Whole Day. At the time when she wrote that, it was very close to Arundhati Roy’s God of Small Things in terms of the lyricism and the sentences feeding into each other in very ripe and visual ways. I think that that kind of style seems to have gone out of favour right now. I think that people very often do not like to read what they consider a little bit overdone style; but I absolutely adore Preeta’s work and the reason is also that I find it so fearless in terms of what she says.

You know, Preeta and I see Malaysia through very different windows, because I continue to come back here and I continue to interact with a lot of writing people. I have mentors who are writers and published collections and short fiction with them. And so I have a much more optimistic view, whereas I think Preeta sometimes, can come across as pessimism, certainly.

I absolutely love the fact that we have her, in Malaysia, as a voice with such a strong conscience.

LP: Who can you see as a mentor? I imagine you get some of that from literary interactions.

DM: Right. I love literary festivals because of that, because one of the things it makes really clear is that the people who are truly great writers are not the divas, and I was telling this story to someone else just a few days ago:

My first novel, called Thunder Demons at that time, and the title was changed to Ode to Broken Things, was longlisted for the Man Asia literary prize. In that long list, there was also Su Tong, a Chinese writer. I don’t know if you know Su Tong’s work, but he’s a highly respected Chinese writer, he wrote this book called Wave the Red Lantern, which was made into a Hollywood movie. I have been reading Su Tong since my late teens, and then read his novel Rice when I was about nineteen, and I was just totally in love with it. His style is very Zola-esque, very dark, but it’s beautiful.

So anyway, I was in this long list with many people. Soo Tong was also on it, and he had been one of the people I had worshipped as a writer. I was at Shanghai Literary Festival, and Su Tong was one of the main guys talking at that, so I went up to him and said “I’m delighted to meet you, and I’ve been reading you” blah blah, and he turned to his interpreter, who said, This is your fan, and she says she’s also on the Man Asian long list with you. He looked a little puzzled, and then he asked the interpreter to ask me what my book was. And so I said it was Thunder Demons. I saw his name on the list and I knew I would lose to someone so worthy, it would not be a loss.  So he turned around and he takes my hand like this, and he said, in English, Miss D, you should have won! And I start to laugh, his interpreter starts to laugh, because he’s saying this in English, and with such heartfelt, You should have won! That’s the kind of interactions I have with people who are really writers.  The other person who I felt was a really good mentor was Amitav Ghosh. I met him at various places; the last one being Northwestern University, where I was teaching, and he came in in one day. He has written this amazing book that talks about climate change, and true fiction as well as non-fiction. And he’s this amazing towering person in the literary world, but he has always been very open to just talking about literature on a level that is very accessible. He doesn’t just say, Oh, this is a book that I wrote; he will also ask, What are you writing. He’s wonderful; people should all be like that.

LP: Are you in any writers’ group, or somewhere that you can get feedback?

DM: Yes. Thank you for asking this, because I do think that writers’ groups are important. You have to be a bit smart about them of course, because there’s always a danger of you writing only to the group. That is never a good thing. What I do is, I have different types of writers’ groups, so for a long time I had an Asian American writers’ group, in Chicago, so I would be able to write whatever I wanted without a glossary, because they would just get it. And then I also have a women’s writing group that is about four of us, all working on longer pieces; and nobody else is Asian there. So then sometimes I can check out whether it translates.

It’s good to have more than one group because it reminds you that even if one group tends to go in a certain way, that opinion is not universal; there’s another group that would take things completely differently. So yes it’s important to have writers’ groups and it’s important to have a variety of them, and not just have an echo chamber that gives you what you want to hear.

LP: With that, I imagine that your being on the move so much helps to keep that sense of who you’re writing for rooted in the generality.

DM: Yeah, I don’t really have a reader in mind, it’s not like my sister-in-law’s my ideal reader or anything like that. I try to not patronise my audience, because I’ve felt patronised so many times, especially by Indian authors writing in English, when their gaze is very much the Western, often male gaze; so I tend to just think of you now, an educated, global person. Of course it’s impossible to do on my own because I’m so close to my own writing that I don’t see the defects; which is why having a writers’ group tells me that this makes no sense, or a character is just not believable.

LP: And then what really should be written about because it’s so unbelievable, is just that: unbelievable.

DM: Yep. You know, when I wrote Shambhala Junction, I had a really good agent in London, and she was shopping it around. The good thing about having a power agent is that you get a response back quite quickly, so she came back to me with a publisher who had read it, and she said that she could not read Shambhala Junction as the mother of young girls, and she did not feel that any father would sell a child, or rather abandon their child. Now if you’ve grown up in any part of Asia, you know that that happens all the time. So again, there is obviously a dissonance between what I see as possible in the world and maybe a London agent is able to show.

Bio:

Lawrence Pettener is a poet and freelance editor living in Subang Jaya, Malaysia. His reviews and interviews have appeared in Juliet Art Magazine (Italy), Asian Review of Books and The Culture Review. He recently co-edited ‘Salleh Ben Joned: Truth, Beauty, Amok and Belonging’ (Maya Press, Malaysia), and a collection of poems on Malaysian food is due out this year. He’s editing another book for somebody right this minute.

#travel #non-fiction

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vaingloury · 1 year

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Even more disparate thoughts on Fabula Ultima

Belated write-up: I finally got the chance to bring this game to the table last month...

...for all of one session.

That’s one more session than most of the indie ttrpgs I own. Still, I bought a physical copy of the rules and I’m a bit disappointed to see it become yet another art book in my collection.

This post isn’t really a review or a judgement of the game’s quality, just some thoughts on why my group bounced off this game after one session and why it might not work for other tables like mine. This also isn’t in response to it winning the Ennie, I just couldn’t find the energy to write this sooner.

Praise first: The art’s great. I know not every project can afford consistent, original art but Fabula’s illustrations do a lot of the heavy lifting (not to say the written material isn’t also solid) in getting you interested in the game and imagining all kinds of characters you might want to portray. The game avoids stock dungeon fantasy classes with unique classes that don’t feel gimmicky for the sake of avoiding dungeon fantasy classes. Class abilities interact with each other, prompting teamwork. I really like the identity/theme/origin section of the character sheet because I’ve been in one too many games where the players want deep character drama but put the work of planting the seeds for that drama on the GM instead of themselves.

But now the criticisms.

This is not a game for the simulationists. Maybe that was obvious to others from the marketing blurbs, but I saw “J(T)RPG” and got excited thinking about how my character’s pockets were going to be overflowing with Mana Potion x99 in preparation for all the boss lairs we were going to be raiding only to be met with a Schrödinger’s inventory system (if you need an item, you just have it (within reason) except for HP/MP potions, which you can only hold a single digit number of) and a GM section on dungeon crawling that can be summed up as “Yeah, maybe don’t?”

My experience with video jrpgs is pretty synonymous with dungeons, random encounters*, and Mana Potion x99s, so not having those things makes me feel naked here. This is going to be a boon to groups who beg for bags of holding in D&D and find playing anything that’s not “the main story” in ttrpgs to be tedious. I get that Fabula wants a more cinematic experience, with the minutiae of adventuring relegated to happening “off-screen”, but without bean-counting to slow things down between set-pieces (Fabula cut the detailed overland travel rules in its conversion from Ryuutama, if you want travel scenes, just freeform rp it baby) I’m left underwhelmed with the remaining two game modes: combat and cutscene.

(*As a side note, Fabula does have random encounters. However, enemies matched to the party’s level can hit fairly hard, thus more than one encounter a travel day would be brutal in a mismatched tone kind of way. From this, I can assume that encounters are supposed to be few and scripted, keeping in line with the aforementioned cinematic experience. GMs experienced with multiple games will notice this but I’m curious about groups coming directly from video games or D&D. Tangentially, Fabula has an Appendix N, listing several games that are heavy on the dungeon/ multiple random encounter/ resource management trifecta. In hindsight, it finally dawned on me that Fabula doesn’t really simulate jrpgs, rather it simulates media inspired by jrpgs.)

This is also not a game for those of us who don’t run games in the small theatre company sort of way, that is to say your games don’t have a route scripted out in advance like three-night play or a television miniseries, where you gotta hit all the plot beats in sequence. When I said cutscene earlier, I meant it literally. The game wants the GM to interlude the narrative with visions of the campaign’s BBEG getting closer to their goal, enemies do that thing from video games where they can escape a fight you were winning because plot armour (which I find funny rather than frustrating, although that leads me to my actual frustration:). This all assumes that the GM has a grand, linear story to tell. Like the random vs scripted encounter thing, this isn’t addressed explicitly from what I can find in the rules. It’s just assumed you’re running this game because that’s your GM style (it is not my GM style). Lightning round of a few more things my group didn’t like:

Economy: I’m not sure how (much) to distribute money in this game. Because Fabula prefers that you didn’t dungeon crawl, you’re not finding money in chests. Turn in twenty bear asses maybe? Do you even need much money (if you’re not playing a Tinker)? Goods and services are dirt cheap, and most things don’t actually have to be bought. Rare weapons can just be dropped by enemies...

The Starter Scenario Boss: I’m willing to concede that I maybe just ran it wrong but the party didn’t stand a chance despite me nerfing the boss duo’s HP and damage. Also combat ranges aren’t a thing in this game, which I think contributed to the difficulty: the enemy can freely use close range attacks on targets they aren’t standing next to (again, “just freeform it”; they somehow run one football field in a few seconds...).

You Can’t Die: Again, I think this is going to be a boon for a certain type of group but mine felt like the risks weren’t real if you can’t die. I’ve already seen the defence of “just use a different consequence that isn’t death” but our characters found themselves in situations where things wouldn’t make sense if they didn’t die without the help of insane levels of deus ex machina.

I’m usually in the “play another game” camp but rather than trying to tailor Fabula to what I find fun, it’d be easier to just take the theme and bond mechanics from this game and graft them onto Pathfinder 2 or something.

#fabula ultima #ttrpg #b

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notbellabutcassandra · 3 years

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Dollhouse: Modern Cottagecore

#my posts #ts4dollhouse #ts4 dollhouse #my edits #she's my tester sim but i cannot ever remember her name #The plant details were so hard and tedious #i wanna live here #thinking about putting the cottagecore sim in this but this is marta's room...you'll meet her soon #when i finally start playing my lil project #nbbc projects

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mercy-burning · 4 years

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Something Different

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer go on their first date. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- female receiving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex- creampie) Warnings: Sex, language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 5.9k

NOTE: This was my favorite part to write so far! I hope you all love it as much as I do! I have a little epilogue planned next, and I’m not sure when it’ll be up, but I’ve really loved seeing how much you enjoyed this series! Thank you for reading! 🥰

***

Y/N had never felt as much like a teenage girl as she did that Friday night. She stood in front of her floor-length mirror, smoothing out her dress and contemplating whether or not she should change. For the seventh time. And she'd been on dates before, but this time was different. Usually she barely knew the guys she'd gone on first dates with, but she'd already slept with this guy. On more than one occasion. And every time she did, she felt herself fall deeper and deeper under his spell. She wasn't sure if he knew the full effect of what he was doing to her, always taking up space in every crack and crevice of her thoughts until she felt like she couldn't breathe.

And that was what made this date different from all the rest. She knew Spencer. She liked Spencer. And she was almost positive that after this date she would be, at the very least, a little bit in love with Spencer.

At that thought, Y/N felt her heart swell in her chest, suddenly invested in the act of making him feel the same way, if he wasn't already.

So she reverted back to her original outfit choice, something she at first thought was too sexy for a first date, but ultimately was the boldest and best option. It was satin and deep violet in color, the fabric clinging to her body in every best way possible. It landed mid-thigh and the neckline was low enough to show just the right amount of cleavage without it being too overwhelming. Her father would have told her it looked more like a dish towel than a dress, and that fact alone was enough to convince Y/N that it was just perfect. It did have thin straps though, and it was freezing as hell at night, so she added a black cardigan that added just the right amount of elegance and warmth to the look.

She paired the whole look together with black pumps and threw her hair up in a loose clip, made for easy taking-down if the night ended as well as she hoped.

Just as she was applying the last of her makeup—simple black eyeliner and mascara, complimented with tinted cherry lip balm rather than lipstick—there was a knock on the door.

"Just a second!" she called out, rushing to spritz on some vanilla perfume and give herself a final onceover in the mirror. With a final deep breath, she switched off the lights and made her way to the door, silently praying that she wouldn't fall on her face.

"Hey, pretty gi— oh..."

The second she saw Spencer in the doorway, Y/N felt her insides swarm with butterflies. The way he took her in, completely captured by her presence as his eyes couldn't decide where to linger longest utterly wrecked her.

And he looked... God, if he wasn't the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. And of course she'd seen him in some rather beautiful positions prior to right then, but his hungry eyes, practically claiming her as his own as they raked her figure accompanied by the outfit he wore and the way his hair perfectly framed his face in soft waves... It felt like she was bathing in sunlight.

He wore a white undershirt and navy suit jacket, the tie the same color only accented with red stripes, and black dress pants. If she had to describe it, she would have said he looked like he came right of the page of a magazine, and even that wasn't generous enough. She knew she should say something to break the silence that had fallen between them, but she couldn't even remember her own name.

Thankfully Spencer seemed to get a hold of himself before she did, saying, "You look... amazing. A-and that's not even the right word, I... Wow."

Y/N felt her cheeks grow hot, playing with the hem of her cardigan. "Thanks, you... You look great, too. Um, let me go grab my purse, I'll be right back."

"Wait, before you do..."

She hadn't even noticed his hand was behind his back until he brought it out, bringing with it a small gathering of flowers. Lavenders. "You brought me lavenders?" she inquired, taking them with a smile. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

Spencer seemed to rock on his feet nervously. "They're generally known for their relaxation properties, and, you know, I figured since we always seem to end up talking about de-stressing, they seemed fitting."

Y/N laughed, her face growing warmer. "That's perfect, I love them. I'm gonna go find a vase for these real quick."

As she rummaged through her cabinets for something even remotely resembling a vase, she settled on a tall mason jar she had in the back, filling it with water and placing the flowers inside, letting it perch on the kitchen counter. When she turned around she found that Spencer had made his way inside, the door closed behind him. "Unfortunately they won't last very long without soil, water, and sunlight, but if they dry up you could always use them for decorations. I noticed you have lots of dried plants in your apartment."

With a smile, she grabbed her purse off the coat rack in the living room. "Oh. Yeah, I guess I do. I've always loved pressing flowers and stuff. My mom and I used to do it all the time when I was younger, and I guess it stuck."

"That's really nice. It's definitely better than the clutter of my apartment," he says with a laugh as they both make their way to the door.

"Oh, I don't know. I like your clutter, it's rather charming."

He laughed as he opened the door and stepped aside so she could walk through. "You've only been to my apartment once, and we were a bit... occupied for you to notice, so how would you know?"

They paused in the hallway as she closed the door and looked up at him, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. She grabbed the end of his tie and tugged it a little, turning it over in her fingers as she stared at him. "Trust me, Spencer, it's hard to believe that anything about you isn't charming."

It was his turn to blush, his smirk transforming into a shy smile. She let go of his tie and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together before leading him down the hallway.

***

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were surprised," Y/N said once the waiter left to grab their drinks.

"Oh, I-I guess I just... I don't know why, it's just that I didn't... expect you to be a white wine person, that's all."

"You can tell what kind of wine I like?" she laughed.

Spencer returned it, brushing some of the hair from his face. "Well, I guess not, since I pegged you wrong..."

She shrugged. "You don't have to be embarrassed about that, I wouldn't expect you to have known."

"Oh, I'm not embarrassed, it's just that usually I'm better at reading people, that's all."

"Is that right?" Y/N mused, leaning forward a little. She smiled at him. "How come?"

Spencer swallowed before answering. "Well, my job... I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, so my team and I study human behavior to catch killers."

Holy shit, that's so hot, she thought, silently hoping she didn't say that out loud. "Wow, so... you're a total badass, then. I gotta say, G-man, that's impressive."

He blushed under the dim light of the restaurant lights. He'd picked out this nice Italian place not too far from their apartment. Y/N had always wanted to go because she loved Italian food, but it was always too expensive and she never really had the time. When Spencer had suggested it, she practically begged him not to, insisting that she didn't want to make him spend so much money on her. In turn he told her, "I don't mind, you're worth spending a little money on," and that was that. Still she felt a little guilty, but he didn't seem to mind one bit. Not to mention the place was absolutely beautiful, easily one of the nicest places she'd ever been to. So if he was willing to do all this just to spend some time with her, then Y/N figured it was a good sign.

"What about you, what exactly is it that you do?"

Y/N shrugged a little. "Oh, well it's no fancy badass government job, but I work at a music store downtown. I just got promoted, so I'm an associate manager."

"Oh, that's great! What kind of music do you like?"

The way he genuinely looked so interested in what she had to say made her heart swell. She cleared her throat before answering. "My parents raised me on Classic Rock, so my brain is pretty much just made up of Queen lyrics, but... I listen to a little of everything. There isn't much I don't like, really, save for maybe hardcore metal. Though, some of it I've heard is okay."

Spencer laughed a little. "That's nice. I don't really listen to a variety of things, mostly classical, but... I don't know, maybe you could... introduce me to some of your favorites? Broaden my horizons?"

He almost sounded shy asking, but that only made the sentiment more endearing. Y/N smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. "Anytime, G-man."

The waiter came back with the wine then, and they got to ordering. Y/N ordered a lemon chicken piccata while Spencer settled on pasta alla norma. Of course they had a side of breadsticks and they each got a small tomato soup to sip on while they waited.

They continued to chat about their favorite things, anywhere from as general as their favorite books and movies to as random as their favorite flowers and candle scents. It was nice getting to know these tiny details. And normally this type of small talk was awkwardly necessary and devastatingly tedious, but with Spencer it felt effortless. She liked telling him about her favorite things, no matter how small they were, and just the same she liked listening to him. The way he spoke, his eyes lighting up as he talked about what made him happy made Y/N warm, feeling once again that night like she was bathing in sunlight.

That's what he was. The human embodiment of pure sunlight.

As they ate they talked a little bit about their childhoods. Spencer mentioned how it was mostly just him and his mother, and he almost seemed a little sad when he talked about it. She wanted to let him keep going, but at some point she realized that he was getting a little emotional and uncomfortable, so she made a point to respectfully change the subject, in turn telling some embarrassing childhood stories of her own. For one thing, she loved telling anyone about how she angrily chucked a remote at her brother when they were kids and gave him a permanent scar on his forehead, but ultimately she loved seeing Spencer smile, and she knew that the story would do the trick. It always did.

"Why did you do it?" he laughed after swallowing a bite of his food.

Y/N shrugged with a smile. "He was bugging me about wanting to watch something else, and it just annoyed me so badly that I decided I had enough. I should have been sorry, too, especially after being yelled at, but I really thought he deserved it. And now when people ask why he has this big-ass scar on his forehead, he has to tell them that his big sister chucked a remote at his head. It embarrasses him and it amuses me, so..."

Spencer laughed a little harder, setting his fork down and folding his hands together. "Sounds... like an interesting childhood."

"Yeah, that's putting it mildly. My brother and I did a lot of roughhousing, which would make more sense if he was the older one, but what are you gonna do?"

"So... What, you put him in headlocks and pinned him to the ground like a wrestler all the time?" he asked with an amused laugh.

"Yeah, something like that," she laughed right back.

"Well, I hope he hasn't sustained too much injury permanently over the years... Maybe one day I can ask him about it."

The thought of Spencer meeting her family gave her more butterflies, and it became evident that he was feeling the same way, because he blushed almost immediately after he said it.

"You two would probably get along really well, actually. He loves true crime and stuff, so I'm sure he'd love to talk to you about your job if that's not too forward. Plus, he reads more than I do, so I'm sure you'd find something else in common there."

"Yeah, that sounds great. I like him already."

She smiled, her heart still beating exponentially fast. A small part of her wondered if maybe talk of meeting family members was going too far for a first date, and on any other first date it would've been. But Spencer seemed to be genuinely entertaining the idea of meeting and discussing some of his life with her brother, and that was what flipped the switch. She was starting to feel it. She was starting to fall in love with him.

***

When the two of them got in the car, Spencer turned on the radio before they started their journey home— a Classic Rock station. Y/N smiled, immediately recognizing the melody to, coincidentally enough, her favorite Queen song, Who Wants To Live Forever. She told him as much.

He turned the volume up and started driving, listening to her sing along softly. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him turning his head every once in a while, obviously sneaking a glance at her enjoying her favorite music. The thought sent a bloom of warmth through her chest as the song faded out and started playing Photograph by Def Leppard. Spencer turned the radio down just a little and nodded, turning down the street.

"I like it. I can see why it would be your favorite."

"This is another one of my favorites, too," she replied with a gentle nod towards the radio, giving him a smile. "A lot of these songs probably will be, though, I've practically been spoon-fed Classic Rock radio since I was a baby."

Then she noticed where they were. A street she didn't recognize. "Where are we going?" she asked, looking around.

"Oh. I-I know I only really promised to take you out for dinner, but there's somewhere else I wanted to show you... If that's alright?"

"It's more than alright," she reassured, placing a hand on his arm and wondering where he planned to take her.

He took her hand in his and continued down the road, the radio shuffling through more songs that Y/N recognized and sang along to. At one point she made a point of dramatically serenading Spencer with Love Song by Tesla, air guitar-ing and everything.

Soon enough they were out where she couldn't see any buildings and only a few streetlights. Y/N hummed softly along to the radio, holding Spencer's hand once again as he pulled the car over down a random road and under this large tree. In front of them she could clearly see the sun setting over the skyline, illuminating everything around them in a soft orange glow.

"It's beautiful out here," she mused as Spencer turned off the car, the radio with it.

"Yeah, I, uh... I was in a particularly stressful point in my life a few years ago, and one day I just drove aimlessly. I don't normally drive at all, but I needed something new, something different to do that I could focus on, and I just ended up here. It's one of my favorite places."

She looked over at him and smiled, running her thumb over his hand. "I find that some of the best things in life happen when you try something different."

His eyes softened as she spoke, squeezing her hand and leaning his head against the seat. "You're right. That's... actually how I got you, know know."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Mhm... Yeah, I didn't even want to confront you about hearing what happened that night because I thought it would be too awkward, but... I don't know, I guess there was just something that felt right about the whole thing, like... like it was an opportunity to get to know someone new. And I couldn't stop thinking about knocking on your door and getting to know everything about this woman who likes to invade other people's privacy." He laughed as he said that last part, obviously teasing her about the whole thing, and she laughed with him.

"Well, then I guess that means I don't have to be embarrassed about that anymore," Y/N noted. "I felt absolutely awful about it, you know."

"Oh, I know. You were practically the color of a tomato when I gave you that Advil."

They laughed together as the sun sunk lower in the sky, and as the air between them grew silent, they just stared at each other, smiling. Even as the sun was leaving, Y/N could still feel its warmth radiating in the form of Spencer's presence.

***

They walked up to her door hand in hand, laughing about a joke she'd told him when Y/N realized the night was potentially over. The thought silenced her laughter, and suddenly she was nervous, like she hadn't already considered that the night would eventually have to end somewhere.

"I... I had a really great time tonight, Spencer, thank you. "

He smiled shyly in that way of his that made her just as shy. It was sickeningly cliché, she thought, feeling this way about a man she'd only just started to get to know, but she welcomed those feelings nonetheless. He was so obviously infatuated with her in a way she hadn't felt before, and it made her nervous because she didn't know how to react. All she could do was welcome and embrace his adoring glares and little touches and compliments, and hope that he knew in turn just how much she appreciated and adored him all the same.

His free hand reached out and cupped her cheek, to which she happily leaned into. "I did, too," he said softly, barely above a whisper. "We should do it again some time."

She smiled against his hand, and she didn't realize it then, but they were closer than they had been all night, toe to toe. "We should."

The world stopped for all of two seconds before he leaned down to kiss her. But something embarrassingly stopped her from letting it happen, pulling her face away just a little. "Wait. My breath probably smells like breadsticks."

Hardly the most romantic thing to say, and she regretted it the second it left her mouth.

Spencer only shrugged, smiling amusedly. "Who doesn't like breadsticks?"

That made her laugh. Hard. And she was still laughing as she pulled him closer and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

When he kissed her back, it was head-dizzyingly sweet, his hands softly brushing over her cheeks as she melted into him. Every time his lips parted, he came back stronger, pressing his lips and tongue to hers with slow, methodical precision.

She could have died right there.

But eventually they pulled apart, and she looked up at him with as much gratefulness as she could provide. "Look, I... I know it's not typically customary to sleep over on the first date, but... What about trying something different?"

Spencer grinned at her, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. "Lead the way, pretty girl."

She couldn't hide her blush as she reached over and opened the door, pulling him into the apartment with her.

The door closed behind him, and Spencer kissed her again, this time using one of his hands to press her to him, resting promptly on her lower back. Their kisses were just as slow and sweet as they had been in the hall, though there was a slightest shift in the atmosphere, bringing forth a newfound passion behind each of their movements.

His tongue traced over her bottom lip before he took it between his teeth and tilted his head to the other side, pulling her even closer to him than she thought could be possible. They both stumbled around the living room as they kicked off their shoes. Y/N got significantly shorter after removing her heels, so Spencer bent down and lifted her off the ground, setting her on the back of the couch. Her dress had ridden up to the tops of her thighs so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She slid her cardigan off at the same time he slid off his jacket, their lips still adjoined. Once they were removed, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck again, and he brought his arms under her ass as he lifted her off the couch

She expected the journey to her bedroom to be rocky, stumbling into furniture and walls and tripping, but was glad to be proven wrong when suddenly she was swiftly seated on her bed, Spencer standing between her legs.

He pulled away from her for all of two seconds before kneeling and pressing kisses to the insides of her right leg, starting at her ankle and trailing all the way up past her knee and eventually to her thigh. His hands reached up to grip the bed as he looked up at her and pressed kisses to her other thigh. Hoping to give him more access, she used her hands to pull her dress up even higher, scooting out from under her butt and bunching up at her hips as she spread her legs a little wider.

He smiled against her inner thigh, running one of his hands over the other. "Patience, pretty girl. I want to take my time with you tonight."

The way he said it made her shiver, and her head leaned back as she leaned back on her hands, feeling Spencer continue his exploration. His mouth travelled from thigh to thigh, doing just about everything he could think of—kissing, licking, biting... One of her hands found themselves in his hair as she sighed out, "Please, Spencer..."

For a moment she thought he wouldn't give it to her, if only because she wasn't specific enough and that had become part of their sexual routine, but this time he granted her what she wanted, one of his hands reaching up and ghosting along her clit through the fabric of her panties.

She instinctually rutted her hips forward at the contact, which made him laugh softly, and before too long, he hooked his finger in the waistband of her underwear, sliding up her dress just a little so he could reach. She lifted herself off the bed so he could bring them out from under her, and he slowly, very slowly, slid them down her legs. His lips travelled up her leg again, taking the same care and curiosity as he had before, each second burning impatiently through Y/N's body as she took it all in.

Right as his nose brushed over her clit, he pulled away, leaving her cold and desperate. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, running a hand through his hair and silently pleading to do something.

He smiled and stood up, pressing a kiss to her neck before whispering in her ear, "Will you ride my face for me, baby?"

"Oh, God, yes," she breathed before she could think, and he laughed, his breath sending goosebumps down the right side of her body.

Spencer got up on the bed and leaned back, his head resting on the pillows as Y/N straddled him, hiking her dress up over her hips and stroking the hair from his face before hovering over it. Before she could do anything, his hands wrapped up over her thighs and pulled her down to him, not wasting any time getting to work.

The initial contact jolted her awake, and she cried out, reaching forward and grabbing the top of the headboard as she ground down on him. His tongue plunged deep into her while his nose pressed against her clit, and the more she moved, the more his tongue drew patterns, wanting to taste every inch of her until she was shaking around him. And that's exactly what happened. His tongue came up to flick and swirl over her clit, and right when he wrapped his lips around it and started softly sucking, she cried out. "I'm gonna— ohh..."

He hummed into her, encouraging her to finish, and she did, clenching her thighs around his head as he shook it back and forth, lapping up every last drop of her arousal until her thighs lost their grip. She lifted up off of him, but he brought her back down to run his tongue through her pussy a few more long, meaningful times. He finally let go of her legs, and she kneeled beside him, catching her breath.

Looking down at him she noticed how wonderstruck he was, running his tongue along his lips to still taste her, his eyes searching hers hungrily before she leaned down and kissed him. The taste of herself on his mouth made her groan, and he reached up to pull the clip from her hair. It tumbled down in a curtain around them before he tossed the clip aside and ran his hands through it, gathering it all to one side and pulling her closer to him.

As he kissed her, she brought her hand to his chest, working at his tie and struggling to get it off. He laughed against her mouth and sat up to do it for her, breaking their kiss apart. Has he undid the tie and the first few buttons of his shirt, Y/N reached back to grab the zipper of her dress, but Spencer stopped her.

"Wait. Can I?"

She nodded, turning around.

"Stand up for me," he told her.

Y/N got off the bed and felt Spencer behind her, his hands brushing her hair out of the way and slowly zipping her dress down, pressing kisses down each inch of skin that exposed in its wake, all the way to her lower back. His hands slid up her back and pushed the straps off her shoulders, then tugged the dress down to watch it fall on the floor, leaving her completely bare.

He kissed her neck and ran his hands up and down her body, eventually reaching around to cup her breasts. She sighed at his touch, leaning back against him as he rolled her nipples in between his fingers. Her hands reached back to wrap around his back and pull him flush against her, the unmistakable feeling of his hardening dick through his pants pressing against her bare ass.

"I love how soft your skin is, pretty girl," he murmured into her neck, sliding his lips down to her shoulder and biting down. She sucked in a breath, her hands removing themselves from his back and placing themselves over his own, feeling the veins strain as they kneaded her breasts. His tongue traced over where he bit down before he kissed the same spot, then he worked his mouth back up her neck and reached her jawline. She turned her head, meeting his lips and pressing herself further into him, whining at every single sensation coursing through her veins.

Eventually she'd had enough and turned fully around, breaking apart from him just to come back. She faced him and wrapped her arms around his neck once more. He leaned in to kiss her again, but she stopped him, pulling her head back and using one of her hands to grip the hair at the nape of his neck. "Tonight's your lucky night, you know..."

At her teasing tone, Spencer laughed, his eyes searching hers before giving in. "Why's that?"

She used the hand that wasn't in his hair to slide over his shoulder and down his chest, drawing patterns across the bare skin he'd left exposed after undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. Then she smiled, bringing herself closer and gripping the collar. "Because I'm on birth control now..." She leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against his, feeling them just barely as she whispered, recalling what he'd told her a few weeks ago. "You still wanna fill up this slutty little pussy? Make me yours?"

He didn't give a second thought. Before she was aware of what was happening, Spencer had his lips crashed against hers and his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her forward so that the tent in his pants pressed right up into her bare crotch. She gasped against his mouth and reached down to take the rest of his shirt all the way off, and he let her.

Her hands fumbled with the buttons, severely close to just giving up and ripping the shirt apart but she got there in the end, sliding the fabric off his shoulders and tossing it God-knows-where as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She trailed her hands softly down his chest and stomach, making him shiver, and she relished in the feeling of his lean figure tensing under her touch. She scratched her nails along the lower part of his stomach before touching his belt, and then he stopped her, grabbing her wrists.

"Sit on the edge of the bed," he commanded softly against her lips.

Y/N pulled away reluctantly, immediately missing his bodily warmth before doing as she was told and perching herself patiently at the edge of the bed.

Spencer got off his knees, climbed out of bed, and stood on the floor, coming over to her and placing himself between her legs once more. Only this time, he towered over her rather than kneeled. His hands unbuckled his belt while his eyes bore into hers, the anticipation of what was to come as high strung as it had ever been.

He pulled his pants and underwear down in one swift motion, and right a he kicked them to the side, Y/N reached out, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer. One of his hands gripped his hard cock while the other found purchase in her hair, brushing it behind her shoulders and resting at the base of her neck as he leaned down and pushed her back onto the bed. She scooted back just far enough for Spencer to kneel on the edge of the bed, her legs instinctually wrapping around his waist once more as he kissed her.

Her hands brushed the hair from his face and stayed weaved there, whimpering with anticipation as he ran the tip of his cock along her pussy, just as slowly as he'd done everything else so far. He broke their kiss apart and pushed the tip in, not going any farther than that. "I told you, pretty girl, I'm taking my time with you tonight. I want this to last."

As his forehead rested against hers, she barely caught a glimpse of his eyes before he pushed all the way in and squeezed his eyes shut. Y/N sighed and massaged his scalp, completely aware of every inch of him as he held himself inside her. He pressed just about the sweetest kiss to her lips before setting a slow pace that gradually became faster with every passing minute. She was still a little sensitive from when he'd eaten her out, but that only added to the feeling.

"Fuck, you're perfect," Spencer breathed, pulling his head just far enough away from her so he could look her in the eyes. "You're so goddamn perfect, Y/N..."

She slid her hands down his back as he picked up his pace inside her, gasping when he hit her g-spot. "Speak for yourself," she breathed.

When she started to feel herself getting closer, Spencer seemed to notice, because he slowed his pace again and ran sloppy, passionate kisses along her jaw and neck, and she reveled in the feeling. He was all around her, consuming every fiber of her being, and she could bask in it forever if he'd let her.

"Spencer," she breathed, her hands reaching down to grip his ass as he hit inside her deeper. "Fuck... You're so good to me..."

In turn he cradled her face and kissed her deeply, moving his tongue against hers in tandem with his hips' ministrations. Her fingernails bore deeper into his skin, and it wasn't long before she started to feel an orgasm surfacing. He rested his forehead against hers again, biting her bottom lip softly as he pulled away to speak. "Almost there, pretty girl. "

Y/N removed her hands from him and brought them up to bring her face to hers again, sighing into his mouth when they reconnected. And then he grabbed her wrists softly, pinning them above her head and sliding his hands up her forearms until his fingers laced together with hers, squeezing and pushing them both closer to the edge.

"Cum for me, baby," he mumbled against her lips, and within a matter of seconds, she did. Her legs tightened around him and her ankles hooked round his waist, just above the top of his ass to keep him tightly inside her while he found his own release. "Fuck," he sighed, giving three more hard thrusts forward. He held himself inside her while he came, the warmth spreading through her being just about the best thing she'd ever felt. It was the cherry on top, the last puzzle piece falling into place, and she kissed him once more while he finished, feeling him groan in her mouth.

The two of them stayed like that, their hands still laced together and legs still tangled, and even when their lips pulled apart, their foreheads rested together while their breathing slowed.

"Have I already told you how perfect you are?" Spencer breathed, nuzzling his nose against hers.

Y/N laughed a little, nuzzling him right back. "You may have mentioned it."

"Well, it's true. Everything about you is just so..."

"Perfect?" she offered.

He laughed, kissing her once more on the lips before slowly pulling out of her and unlacing their fingers. "Yes. Perfect... But as much as I love laying here with you, UTIs are not perfect, so I'm gonna get you cleaned up. Come on."

She sat up with a grunt, not wanting to get up so soon but she knew he was right. So she let him lead her to the bathroom as quickly as they can, his cum slowly sliding down her thighs when they got there. Spencer turned on the light and closed the bathroom door, a small smile on his face as he got on his knees to help.

"I can grab some toilet pa— holy shit..." Y/N was cut off when he dragged his tongue up the inside of her leg, scooping up his mess and making his way to her pussy where he cleaned out the rest of it. She was still sensitive, so he went as gently as he could, making soft, gentle swipes of his tongue until it was mostly gone, at least not dripping down her legs anymore.

When he stood up to meet her face, she felt stunned, absolutely enraptured by everything about the man in front of her. "So, does that mean I'm officially yours now?" she asked with small laugh.

He gave her that bashful smile again, and it made her feel even better, basking in the familiarity of his boldness of sexual acts followed by instant shy demeanor. "Only if you'll have me."

Y/N grabbed his face and kissed him before looking him dead in the eye and saying, "I hope I'll always have you, G-man."

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Text

Tedious Joys

- Chapter 1/8 - Ao3 link -

By the time Lao Nie wrote to Lan Qiren under personal cover to ask for his assistance, they hadn’t spoken in nearly seven years.

Oh, they’d spoken – it was rather impossible to avoid speaking, acting sect leader to sect leader. They attended the same discussion conferences, and of course the Lan and Nie sects were close allies, insofar as the Great Sects were anything to each other; their alliance, martial and moral, tended to balance out the riches and clever tricks brought to bear by the Jin and Jiang sects, and of course the Wen sect was large and powerful enough that it didn’t need or want any allies that it couldn’t subject to its dominion. An alliance meant constant contact, checking in, and ideally would call for a good relationship between the leaders of the two sects, which they had once had.

They had once been very close, even.

Lan Qiren had idolized Lao Nie from a young age, admiring his fierceness and his passion for life, his ruthless logic and his practicality and his thoughtful sense of judgment, all the more admirable given that he was from a sect known for being a bunch of hotheads. When Lan Qiren’s older brother – older by nearly ten years, with a middle brother that had died before Lan Qiren’s birth and several miscarriages in between as his parents struggled to provide the sect with the requisite spare – had continuously tried to leave his irritating younger sibling at home when going on night-hunts, Lao Nie had cheerfully interjected himself more than once, volunteering that he would be happy to take him along, and at that point Lan Qiren’s brother, who admired the older man nearly as much as Lan Qiren did, would generally yield, even if he grumbled about it.

Unlike Qingheng-jun, who ought to have been more considerate for his own family, Lao Nie had never minded having to slow down the pace of his hunts in order to accommodate a sickly child, a pedantic one that needed to understand things thoroughly before he was comfortable trying something new. He had often allowed Qingheng-jun to rush ahead and win glory that ought in all fairness to have been his, something Lan Qiren only discovered when he reviewed his history in retrospect.

Lao Nie hadn’t minded how clumsy Lan Qiren was, or how picky he was, refusing to eat even common foods if the texture didn’t appeal to him; he had only laughed at his excessive formality, the harshness of his tone, his tendency to repeat himself or to become caught on little details. He’d indulged him, wasting copious amounts of his time listening to Lan Qiren talk enthusiastically about the Lan sect rules, which he’d fallen in love with at an early age and, when young, rarely missed the chance to bring into any given conversation no matter how irrelevant.

He’d always been very kind to him.

If you had asked Lan Qiren ten years ago, he would have confidently asserted that Lao Nie was one of his dearest friends.

And yet – it had been Lan Qiren, who was short on friends, and not Lao Nie, who had many, that had cut off their relationship. Lan Qiren hadn’t truly spoken to Lao Nie in seven years, limiting their conversations to the subject of sect business and keeping their meetings as short as could be allowed by etiquette, ignoring the way Lao Nie looked at him with sadness and regret in his eyes. Even when Lan Qiren’s anger had finally died down from a raging flame to a simmering anger he suspected would never leave him entirely, he had thought to himself that it was too late, that the fire had burnt everything out, that there were only ashes left behind.

And yet – on the seventh year, apparently apropos of nothing, Lao Nie wrote to him, requesting his presence.

As a friend, he wrote. Come as a friend, or not at all. I have no use for a sect leader.

Lan Qiren struggled with the request, which did not obey any of the unwritten rules he had forced himself to learn on top of the many that were written. He did not know if he was still enough of a friend to Lao Nie to answer such a request.

He did not know himself whether he would go until the moment that he went.

Lao Nie met him at the gateway to the Unclean Realm, relief written in every line of him.

“Thank you,” he said, and Lan Qiren shifted uncomfortably from side to side.

“I didn’t even do anything yet,” he said stiffly, instinctively reaching up to stroke his beard. It was a more acceptable social tic than others that he had been discouraged from employing; losing access to it, however temporarily, had been one of the reasons he had been so upset with Cangse Sanren when she’d shaved it off while he was asleep. She’d tracked him down later to apologize when she’d realized how badly he’d taken it, serious for perhaps the only time he’d known her, and they’d ended up as something almost like friends out of the whole debacle. He hadn’t heard from her in years, either, but that was no breach; it was only that she was busy with her husband and the little child she had once shoved into his arms with that deep, echoing laugh of hers. “Don’t thank me until I’ve determined if I can do anything for you, or will.”

Lao Nie nodded and showed him inside, leading him to his private chambers rather than the sect leader’s study. This suggested that the issue was private, although Lan Qiren supposed he’d already known that, based on the letter.

They sat in silence while Lao Nie personally served the tea, his brow still creased in concern, and Lan Qiren stared at him – too intently, as always – and wondered what private issue could have caused such an upset, and moreover what he could possibly need Lan Qiren for. Lao Nie was a private man, in the custom of his clan and sect; Lan Qiren didn’t know his birthdate or even his age, only the approximates, and many of the details of his life escaped him. It made it difficult to guess what the matter might be, if it were personal and not political.

Although…

“My condolences regarding your second wife,” he said, watching, and Lao Nie jerked his head in a tight nod, acknowledging the loss. Lao Nie’s first wife had been a mysterious figure, appearing and disappearing as suddenly as an unexpected burst of rain on a sunny day – the stories in Qinghe enthusiastically claimed she was a goddess that descended from the heavens to dally with moral race, who’d ended up marrying Lao Nie to legitimize the child he’d unexpectedly planted in her belly, only to be summoned back to the heavens on important duties, although of course it was commonly understood that she was more than likely just some powerful rogue cultivator who had decided after a short interval that being married was not for her. Lan Qiren had never met her, although he had had the fortune to meet Lao Nie’s second wife, who had been much more down-to-earth, an innkeeper’s daughter.

(Lan Qiren had rather liked her the few times they’d met. She was a little self-absorbed, in a harmless sort of way. She liked beautiful things and good food and talking about them, and was happy to carry on entire conversations while he responded only with nods and grunts; to his relief, she had never expected anything more from him. She was very beautiful herself, both delicate and seductive with her fox’s face and long and narrow eyes; some cruel people spread rumors that she was a demon or a yao in disguise, sent to wreak havoc through the seduction of men. She had never tried anything like that on Lan Qiren, unless her attempt at seduction consistent of sharing a plate of snacks and occupying him enough to prevent him from having to listen to the more boring parts of the social parts of certain discussion conference meetings. At any rate, he’d been truly saddened to hear that she had died.)

Still, Lao Nie had not yet begun to speak.

That meant that the problem was not in relation to that aspect of his life, which in all honesty was a relief. Lan Qiren could not imagine a world in which Lao Nie confided his marital problems in a prematurely old bachelor like him.

Perhaps…

“Your sons?” he asked, and this time Lao Nie flinched, so he’d guessed right. “Ah. The younger one?”

The younger one would be about A-Zhan’s age, surely, or even younger. Little more than a toddler, not yet quite old enough to be taken away from the mother – or nurse, in the case of Lao Nie’s second son – and they were so terribly fragile at that age…

“No,” Lao Nie said, and sighed, a long exhale. “Forgive me, it’s a difficult subject. A-Sang is fine. The issue is with A-Jue.”

Nie Mingjue would now be around eight or nine years old, Lan Qiren thought, or perhaps even older – it was so hard to tell with these secretive Nie, and he only knew enough to make the guess at all because of their former friendship. Most sects were only vaguely aware that there were heirs to the Nie sect, and had certainly never seen hide nor hair of Nie Mingjue, during discussion conferences or otherwise.

He’d been a toddler the last time Lan Qiren had seen him, young and energetic, running around anywhere, but he had something of his father’s kindness – he’d actually listened to Lan Qiren telling him about rules that didn’t apply to him, and even proudly repeated some of them back to his father, much to Lan Qiren’s embarrassment – without having yet grown into his father’s occasional callous ruthlessness.

Perhaps it made a certain amount of sense that Lao Nie would ask for help with his children. Since his life plans had been irrevocably altered, Lan Qiren had taken over teaching at the Cloud Recesses, and to his surprise, was apparently making something of a name for himself.

It hadn’t been intentional: he’d been desperate for something to do with himself that wasn’t just for the sect, so much of his time consumed by the business of sect leadership, and he’d always planned to become a teacher eventually, although he’d always assumed it would be much later in life. He’d volunteered to teach, only to look at the small handful of obedient, well-trained Lan sect disciples that he would be in charge of instructing and quickly realized that such ‘teaching’ wouldn’t occupy his time at all.

Accordingly, he had demanded that the sect elders allow him to accept disciples from other sects as well. The request was highly irregular, but strictly abided by all Lan sect rules on the subject – it was Lan Qiren putting together the proposal, after all – and the elders had granted it with surprisingly little debate. To this day, Lan Qiren wasn’t sure if it was pity for his circumstances or simply an assumption that no outside students would bother attending, but he would not let the approval, once granted, be so easily retracted: he had sent out letters asking for students at once, and to everyone’s surprise but his own they actually came.

(He’d been clever about it, at the start. He’d reached out first to those smaller sects that would not have access to resources even a quarter as good as the Cloud Recesses, asking specifically for those children that seemed troublesome – the ones it took time and attention to teach, the ones who didn’t seem to be getting what they were supposed to learn. The slow, the stupid, the angry, the ones who disappointed their parents most of all. Lan Qiren might not have answers for those children, but at least he could give them his time and attention and he found, for most of them, that was all they wanted.)

Recently, though, they’d started getting more requests to join from the slightly larger subsidiary sects, more people, even murmurs about sending him their sect heirs rather than their burdens – people were saying that his teaching could make a gentleman even out of a waste, which Lan Qiren didn’t really understand. After all, putting aside a few students that were too arrogant to be willing to learn anything, he hadn’t encountered a single one he’d characterize as a waste.

“How can I help A-Jue?” he asked, expecting Lao Nie to finally give in and explain.

But Lao Nie shook his head.

“There’s some background I need to tell you first,” he said. “Without which the problem won’t make much sense. You have one of the finest analytical minds I’ve ever met, Qiren, and a way of thinking that doesn’t match up to conventional wisdom – I’m hoping you can help me where expertise has failed.”

Lan Qiren frowned, embarrassed. “I can try,” he said, already mentally rearranging his plans to account for a longer stay. He disliked sudden changes and had planned out three possible lengths of time for his visit – one short, one medium, one long – so that he would be able to select whichever one would be most appropriate. He hoped that the issue would not require any more time than the longest period he had allotted. “What is the subject?”

“Saber,” Lao Nie said, and smiled at Lan Qiren’s confusion. “My sect’s cultivation style. Let me explain…”

Lao Nie’s explanation was fascinating.

The cultivation style of the Nie sect – and the Nie clan in particular, especially the main branch – was unlike anything Lan Qiren had ever heard before, completely different in both substance and philosophy. It was a rough trade, a difficult road, heartbreaking in its sacrifice, impressive in its results…

It wasn’t the road for everybody, but one couldn’t help but admire those that walked it.

“Doesn’t it get close to demonic cultivation, using resentful energy like that?” he asked at one point, and Lao Nie had explained to him how they had drawn the distinction – using beasts, never humans, and channeling the worst of the effects into their sabers rather than themselves. How much they strived to cultivate morality into their sabers as well as power.

Lan Qiren thought that it was a fine line, but after some thought concluded that they fell on the right side of it, if just barely. The primary dangers of demonic cultivation were in the way it increased the amount of evil in the world, whether through the inevitable madness and violent rampages of its wielders or through the simple side effects of using other people’s corpses as your playthings, increasing their own resentment, breaking the hearts of their loved ones, and causing their ancestors to curse you; that sort of vile conduct was an offense to the Heavens. The Nie sect’s cultivation avoided that, and if through their sabers they added a little bit of evil to the world then it could not be denied that they took much, much more of it out.

“I think I understand now,” he said, brushing his fingers along his beard. “But…why tell me? Isn’t it one of your clan secrets?”

“It is,” Lao Nie agreed. “As a general principle, we do not tell outsiders unless we must.”

The Nie sect preferred principles over rules, which Lan Qiren begrudgingly accepted even if he himself preferred having rules, clear and precise and equal even if they sometimes weren’t quite fair. But situation-dependent or not, the Nie held to those principles just as tightly as any Lan did to their sect rules, and that was worthy of respect.

“So you felt that you must,” Lan Qiren observed. “But why? And what does it have to do with A-Jue? Is he not taking to your sect’s teachings…?”

“I would almost prefer that,” Lao Nie said, and rubbed his eyes. “We’ve always had those that didn’t follow our ways – those that refused to train the saber, or refused to cultivate a spirit despite all their training. No. It’s actually…A-Jue’s very good.”

Lan Qiren had been a teacher for seven years. He was accustomed to parents who needed to praise their child before getting to the point, though he wouldn’t have expected it of Lao Nie. He waited.

“He’s too good,” Lao Nie said, and abruptly covered his face with his hands. “He’s already cultivated a spirit in Baxia.”

Lan Qiren’s whole body jerked. “Lao Nie!” he exclaimed. “You’ve already given him a saber? He’s too young!”

Under the age of ten, Nie Mingjue should still be building his strength, shaping the muscles that would serve him in the future; he should be wielding only a practice saber made of wood, heavy and slow as he etched the forms of his sect style into his bones. Even if he was a true prodigy, a once-in-a-generation genius, he should at most bear a weapon of dulled steel, and never an actual spiritual weapon, much less the one that would be the companion of his future life.

“He took it himself,” Lao Nie said. “A little over a year ago – we had a surprise attack, right in the middle of the summer hunts. Supposedly bandits, but actually mercenaries, supported by traitors from the inside; they had a map to lead them straight inside our home, and attacked at the moment when most of us were gone. When everyone else ran for cover, A-Jue went to the armory and picked up a saber, freshly forged, and he took his first blood the same day. What was I supposed to do? Take it away from him?”

Lan Qiren felt a stab of sympathy for Lao Nie’s impossible dilemma.

Taking the saber away just when A-Jue had started bonding with it, right after he’d shed blood with it for the first time – yes, that would have been far worse. It might have crippled his confidence, introduced hesitation that would damage his cultivation forever, hinder his future growth…

“And he already developed a saber spirit?” he said instead. “Within a year?”

That wasn’t genius. That was insane.

“I know,” Lao Nie said. “The faster we cultivate, the sooner we die, but how am I supposed to say that to a child? And there’s how fast he’s picked up our cultivation style, how fast he’s going – what if he introduces some flaw into it and it sinks in before anyone notices? Even a minor disruption to his qi, at this age –”

Lan Qiren scowled. “Stop panicking,” he ordered. “That won’t help anyone at all, least of all him.”

Unexpectedly, Lao Nie smiled at him, although the smile was full of regret.

“It’s easy to say and hard to do,” he said. “Don’t you know I always lose my head when it comes to love?”

Lan Qiren knew.

Lao Nie had always been reckless in matters of the heart, as seen by his decision to marry some stranger for his first wife and a nobody for his second, and to thereafter refuse a third, more sensible arrangement with some sect leader’s daughter or sister that could care for the children as a mother while acting as a useful political tool, even if no other children were forthcoming. Even though his life had been beset with later tragedy, he had been happy with his wives – happy and in love, and unwilling to trade a single moment with them for anything.

Lan Qiren knew this. He even understood it.

He just had trouble excusing it.

Lao Nie had been friend to Lan Qiren’s brother long before he’d been friend to him, and so when Qingheng-jun had fallen in love in that sudden, shocking, irrevocable manner that the Lan sect had, Lao Nie had been the first to support him in it, delighted to think that his friend would find the same happiness he had himself found. He’d encouraged him not to be shy in presenting his courtship, in presenting himself as a possible match; he’d reassured him that some disinterest to begin with was reasonable, given that they were still strangers, and advised him to enjoy the feeling of falling in love, to be reckless and bold and daring with it…and he did it all in writing, from a distance.

Lao Nie had been occupied at the time with issues in his own sect – probably the scandals relating to his first wife, in retrospect, though of course he said nothing of it back then – and had unwisely trusted in Qingheng-jun’s description of the events, rather than seeing the circumstances for himself. It was understandable that he would not comprehend how fiercely his friend’s heart had been gripped by love, or how truly disinterested He Kexin was in her ardent suitor, not when Qingheng-jun described her resistance as mere coquetry. It was impossible for Lao Nie to have predicted that his well-meant advice that love was worth anything, even defiance of sect rules and the counsels of the elders, would be interpreted in such a terrible way.

Still less, of course, could he have predicted what happened next, the tragedy of He Kexin and the friend that deceived her, that tried to use her and Qingheng-jun through her through false rumors and twisted stories, and in so doing underestimated how unbridled He Kexin could be when pressed. It was all part and parcel of the same underlying calamity: if Qingheng-jun had not been so persistent in his courtship, He Kexin wouldn’t have had such a bad impression of the Lan sect; if she hadn’t had such a bad impression of the Lan sect, she might not have been so ready to believe her friend’s lies about their teacher’s conduct, to allow herself to be indirectly used to manipulate Qingheng-jun’s love-madness to the advantage of another sect; if He Kexin had been a little less arrogant or a little less blindly trusting or had bothered to ask a single question before taking upon herself the duty of executioner as well as judge, if she’d only held back her sword and not gone so far as to kill a man over baseless rumor – if only – if only – if, if, if –

If Qingheng-jun had not decided that his love mattered more to him than his sect.

There was no way Lao Nie could have known what would happen.

It was understandable.

One might even say that it was forgivable, except Lan Qiren had not yet gotten around to forgiving him.

Lan Qiren had dreamed of travel, not teaching; he’d wanted to play music in all the forgotten places, to learn all the things that could not be simply deduced from inside the safety of the Cloud Recesses. He’d wanted to help people, to use that vast store of knowledge that seemed irrevocably stuck in his brain to solve problems and suggest solutions. But the Lan sect needed a leader, and with Qingheng-jun in permanent seclusion, disinterested in sect matters, choosing instead to obsess endlessly over his broken heart…

The duty had fallen to Lan Qiren instead.

(He Kexin had eventually grown rather fond of her husband, even if love wasn’t the word for it. Lan Qiren didn’t know if she was simply salvaging what she could out of an unsalvageable situation or if she just enjoyed the exercise, but he had two nephews now, to raise as if they were his own. Because that was just what he needed, another chain binding him to his home, another duty that shouldn’t have been his – he loved his nephews more than anything, so he couldn’t be angry at them, couldn’t blame them for being born, and so he had to be angry at everyone else instead.)

Lan Qiren lowered his head and pursed his lips. He knew Lao Nie wanted his forgiveness. He even knew, according to the sect rules he valued so highly, that he should grant it. Seven years was surely long enough to pay for any innocent mistake, wasn’t it?

Come as a friend, or not at all.

That was the invitation Lao Nie had extended, and Lan Qiren had come. That was very nearly a decision, if he wanted it to be.

“Let me see him,” Lan Qiren proposed, and Lao Nie’s smile warmed at once.

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #tedious joys #LQR and the power of research

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artgirllullaby · 3 years

Text

Chapter 16: After Shards

There is much stuff i want to say about this update, but not enough space. So I decided to make an author Notes close to the end.

For now I wanna thank everyone who was patient, understanding and welcoming me. Many of you probably forgot this existed, some stopped around to ask how I was doing, and i'm thankful for it.

You guys have no idea how your reviews and knowing i had to complete this had saved my life. And I say this more than I really would like to admit. Your reviews, comments and messages were the line to bring me back to end stuff many times. For that, thank you.

Thank you every single one of you who stop by, leaving a comment, review or not. You who take few minutes to read what I'm writing, those of you who are silently lurking and hoping for an update, this is for you. Thank you for existing, thank you for saving my life in more ways than i can ever put in words.

Thank you.

Now let's get back on where we left, shall we?

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

You can read Ever After at Ao3 | FF.net | DeviantArt and on Tumblr, feel free to go read where it pleases you the most

Chapter 16: After Remembrance

"So let me see if I got it…" Janna said crossing her legs on Marco's bed, he tried not to get annoyed on her dirty sneakers on his sheets given he was asking a favor to her "You want me to perform some kind of witchery-"

"Enchantment." Marco corrected.

"Whatever, you want me to try to make magic in a world that has become void of it to recover your girl?"

Marco shifted on his computer chair replying with an awkward "Yes?"

His childhood friend frowned a bit in deep thought, "Don't get me wrong Marco, but how in the hell am I supposed to do that?!" resting a bit back on his bed she continued "you said yourself that when she left it also erased not only her existence but every trace of magic here, including my own magic as you say. How would I be able to use magic if there's none around or in me?"

"You see, here is the catch. I don't think you're completely void of it."

Janna exchanged looks with his dog before both of them looked back at him as if they were reconsidering the option of calling the hospital to take him in.

"OK, let me explain." He took a breath, "When Star had come to this dimension, we had no idea that magic truly existed. In fact, there is- or at least had by then, a bunch of magic creatures living among us and we had no idea because we were used to our routines and livelihood. But Star had to adapt and she had to question and understand everything and while she had to discover and learn, she ended up showing and doing the same for us."

Janna rested her chin on her hand in a tedious position "Your point being?"

"My point is that there was magic here before Star came along. Magic that was from here, from Earth. Like, very low and not much, but once was enough to connect our worlds and dimensions, then we can do it again."

"That… kinda makes sense." She agreed with a nod "But if she blocked the other side it would still be impossible."

"She might have blocked the way directly to Mewni and other dimensions I knew the way over. But it's impossible for her to have blocked all dimensions back and forth."

"So what? Your plan is to go aimlessly into a random dimension and find a way over into another until you jump onto Minnie?"

"Mewni, and yes. I will get the right way eventually. I know I will." Marco said determinedly, "I had to hunt down the entity that was responsible for creating the material for transportation through the dimensions and I did it. If I was able to do that by then, nothing will stop me from reaching out for Star. And I know for a fact, there's a place that connects all dimensions."

A place that once almost got destroyed by desperation and naiveness, by that's another story and a detail he didn't need to disclose right now.

"Except the fact I can't use magic." Janna reminded him.

"Not really, that's what I am trying to say. Star might have cut or blocked the magic traces that were unnatural from here, but she can't get rid of what is natural."

"Uh…" Janna squinted her eyes, having trouble understanding "I kinda get your point, but not what you aim at…"

"Look, think about this like… the seasons!"

Janna gave a flat look as if that seemed more confusing but gestured to him to go on.

"You see, in Spring it's the prosperous time, when flowers grow, fruits are there and things blooms, then comes summer and while the temperature is high, we still can get the supriments spring gave us, then comes autumn and that's when the hard time comes. Leaves fall, fruits are not that much, some plants die, all while we prepare to the winter, when it's cold and we need to survive without much food-"

Janna facepalmed herself "You know that's totally not how it works, right?!"

"Just listen!" He sighed "after the time at lowest, what comes next?"

"Spring?"

"Exactly!" Marco replied her bored tone with excitement, "It comes the time when it flourishes again! You understand?! It's a cycle!"

Janna frowned, understanding his logic but still questioning it "You think Star speeds up the cycle?"

"She did something. Knowing or not." He shrugged, turning to her once more "Nature finds a way. It will make magic flow again, if it follows the seasons or not I have no idea, but I know it does follow a cycle. He have magic in our history, we got historical events that none can explain, and that follows some impact, and it goes around the world not just a place particular, and we had quiet times and then the new things again and-"

"Breathe, boy" Janna said standing up and sighing a bit as she forced Marco to sit down and take a moment, "Did you take your medicine?"

"We don't have time to-"

"We made a deal." She crossed her arms standing up in front of him as she looked at him sternly from his bed. "You keep yourself sane and under the medical conditions, as long as you're stable and healthy I'm willing to help you." The dark-haired girl looked around and asked again, "So, did you take your meds?"

Marco sighed and thought for a moment, "I did take them this morning." He looked at his phone for a moment and took a breath of redemption, "It is a bit past the time for me to take some I guess…"

"Well, then." His childhood friend gestured to the door, so he could go ahead and get the medicine wherever they were. Marco did as she suggested, knowing she was asking for the best of him and she was indeed looking out for his health. The last thing he needed now he was getting his memories back and was determined to find Star, was to have a breakdown and lose control (his last one was still healing in his eyebrow), he ain't got time for that.

He got his meds and went to the kitchen taking a cup of water as Janna promptly got herself to sit on the couch with Barko Jr. After taking his meds and sitting on the couch he was about to continue when Janna gestured him to wait.

"Take a breath. You were getting anxious, so take a few minutes. I'll wait."

"We don't have time for this, Janna."

"Then you're gonna have to deal with this alone." She looked at him, her face completely serious, "We made a deal, and I'll make sure you stand your word even against your own wishes."

Marco huffed, dropping himself on the couch "What is this, your crush on me is back?!"

"Hm, kinda. Considering you're the best candidate? Maybe." At his unbelievable stare she smirked "What? You can see me dating Alfonso? Ferguson? Jason?! ugh, no. The girls aren't much better and the hottest take went halfworld away" Janna made a dramatic gesture "So I might as well take care of my last option in case the worst happens."

"Wow, thanks" Marco replied to her in a sarcastic tone.

"You're welcome. Don't worry, once our kid gets my talent and hits big, that will make me meet my true guy. I'll dump you right away."

Marco frowned "I really have no idea if you're serious or not."

"Me neither" Janna replied.

He looked at her in complete confusion and decided to let it go since it wasn't going anywhere. Taking some breaths instead as he watched the clock he was able to feel himself calming down slowly and organizing his own thoughts.

"You had always liked spooked stuff, remember?"

"So what?" Janna said, turning to lay with her feet up, "Does that have to do with anything?"

"Remember the time church used to hunt witches and other beings, but mostly witches?"

"Yeah, many women got killed, they never apologized and all that jazz… Why are you giving me a history lesson?"

"You are a descendant of the Witches…" He frowned "I don't remember quite much clearly yet, but… I remember you found out one ancestor of yours was hunted down, claimed to be a witch and got to escape, you found there actually two types of such thing and used Star magic to… Do something… I can't remember well, but I know you used her magic to make your own flow again from the sleepy state it was in."

Janna sat straight and looked at him in shock "Are you telling me, I'm magic?"

Catching her tone of both disbelief and sassiness, Marco joked back at her "You're a Wizard, Janna."

"I'm a what?"Janna whispered before laughing with him, "Seriously, you're telling me I'm a witch?"

"Pretty much. You used to say the others called you something else because they didn't consider you one of them, but you got it."

Janna stood up and paced slowly in the living room, murmuring to herself as she was making her own conclusions from the information he gave.

"OK, if what you say is true, then there might be a way to awaken what was inside of me. I mean, she didn't destroy the magic, she just erased what existed from her existence, right?"

"I guess? I don't know that much actually. It's just a theory"

"That makes sense," Janna prompted "if she truly had erased every magic or destroyed then that would erase even the ones who weren't involved with her… Like your dog and, well, me."

"You?"

"It's just as you say, if I already had a bit in me, even if too little to make a difference, doesn't change the fact I got it and could try to do again what I did last, if she had went far enough it would have erased the existence of those who have some magic connection in them, me." She pointed out.

"So you think you can do it?"

Janna smirked, grabbing her purse and fishing for her phone as she began to type "Only one way to find out."

It was weird enough how her mother had been hovering over her lately, but having Tom, Ponyhead and Kelly aside every other person around to do the same was becoming maddening.

Star knew she had been sick, whatever her cough was, made everyone worried since they didn't find a solution. It was recurring more and more, if she coughed in front of them there was a desperation to show in their eyes so quickly she had to find out what they were hiding.

The little petal in her hand told her it was a lot more than they let her know.

The doctors have told her if she ever coughs something, she has to go to them immediately, and so her friends often offered to give her a doctor if there was any signal of her cough…

If she wanted to find out what was going on, she couldn't trust either side about the petals in her cough.

Besides they should be busy and worried about something else, she was getting married soon for the sake of her kingdom, they should be trying to find a way out of the war menace.

Just like she should be if she wasn't busy organizing a wedding ceremony she would rather not have anyways.

"Why do we have to make it big?!" She moaned tiredly to her mother.

"You're a princess, simple as that. The people need to know and have security for their new king, the wedding it's not just about tying laces, but also about showing the people you have a ground and know what you're doing, in the fateful decision you're making by marrying this man." Moon replied and put her papers down.

"Can we like, make an agreement, sign stuff and bep bop do? No one is interested in anything else aside from keeping Mewni safe at this point."

Moon turned to her and took a breath, "Is that why you agreed to the marriage?"

"Well, yeah…" the princess replied, turning away from her mother. "It's not like I had many choices anyway."

"I'm really sorry for all of this Star…" her mother replied with a sad voice, "Of all people, I really wish you had the chance to make the choice like I did in my time."

"You're not helping much…" Star observed looking at another stupid list of things to get for a wedding. Why did they need a golden cornucopia?!

"I know… That's why I invited someone that knows about this to talk it out with you."

Turning to her mother, her eyes turned curious "Who did you invite?"

Moon smiled at her, "It's a surprise."

She rolled her eyes and continued to look in her to-do list about what there was to still afford for the ceremony. She couldn't wait until the papers had been over so she could get to…

To what?

Star shook her head and tried to focus again. There was no one for her to meet after that, she had been so sleepless and stressed about things happening that she had been catching herself into errands that didn't exist or lost in corridors trying to find a room that wasn't there.

Maybe she should see a doctor after all.

Marco stood blinking at a board that Janna made with pins, pictures, lists and scribes around and even a red string that connected to a question mark.

"Uh… what am I looking at?"

Janna sighed, "You're looking at the fact that you were right." Crossing her arms she looked away "Damn I was hoping you weren't so on point."

"What does the criminal board have to do with this?"

"This is an investigation board, thank you very much." Janna said and pointed at her notes, "I went around my stuff to figure out the blanks points or odd stuff that I couldn't remember how happened or that the explanation was just plain weird."

Marco frowned at a picture of her and pointed, "What does a picture of you in a pink dress have to do with this?"

Snatching the picture from his hand, Janna followed her notes as if there was never the said picture there, "So there are a lot of those blanks around like, why the heck I have a recipe for cupcakes? I don't even cook, and if I did, I wouldn't be interested in cupcakes!"

Marco looked around the said notes noticing the odd that Janna was mentioning. She was right about most of them, the pictures of scenarios and selfies were not her thing, just like notes on clothing, books, and… that Korean version of Twilight?

"What matters is that you're right. Whatever I had in me or that composed those pictures enough to make me interested, was changed."

He nodded, "and how are you finding proof I was right to help us?"

"It helps because I began to look into my stuff to see if I could find anything else and, BOOM!" Janna shoved her phone in his face.

"A… contact list?" He asked, confused.

"Yep. I went through my contact list, I don't know the majority of these names and some weren't even real numbers like this… Thomas the Train?! Why do I have the number of a toy train to begin with?"

Marco tried to bring her focus back again, "Well, and did you find anything that helped us?"

Janna began to tap her phone again, "Actually, I did!"

Turning the phone to him again Marco was to stare at the eyes on the screen looking right back to him. It was a woman a bit older than them, she was red haired and skin a bit paler than his, her brown eyes blinked at him then she smiled and waved at him from the screen.

"Tami, meet Marco. Marco, this is Tamir LesTrange" Janna said, motioning between them.

"Hello!" Tami said, smiling from the other side.

"Hi…" he replied and looked at Janna, "how exactly is she supposed to help?"

Janna put her phone on his table where the stranger could see them both, "Tami remembers what I can't, or at least most of it. To begin with how we meet and what we are."

"Hey! I thought you said you believed in me saying you were a witch?"

There was a giggle and Marco realized it came from the screen, "There's a difference between believing and fact checking," Tami explained, "she was trying to recover what was lost in the spell of your friend."

"Wait, you remember too?!"

"Kinda" the red haired replied, "your theory of Earth's own magic isn't completely wrong, but also has some fantasies into it. I can remember what is related to me, Janna and the betweens, but if you ask me specifically about that friend of yours, well, I'm afraid I'm not much help." She shrugged embarrassed.

"So, how can you help us then?"

This time Janna replied to him, "Dude, she's a Witch."

Marco blinked twice at Janna and then at the phone before letting a gasped "Whaaat" escape his lips.

"A witch, Marco." The other laughed, "Oh boy, Potter references never get old!" The red haired girl shook her head and continued "I'm one of the natural magic users from Earth, see?"

On a movement with her hands, there was a wave of energy that made some stuff on her desk float before getting down again by another gesture to make it disappear.

He looked at the lady's hands in shock. It was one thing to know magic existed and have memory of it, but to see it was something completely different. To see the proof in a live video of another magic user was… almost unbelievable.

Wow, he gets why the others had trouble believing him.

"OK, Tami, can you explain what you told me before to him?" Janna asked.

"Why don't you say it?" She questioned.

"I forgot already."

With a sigh, the woman on the other side began to speak to Marco. "As I told Janna, your theory is in the right way, but not quite. Our world is about cycles, from the survival and animal one, to life and magic one. So yeah, there are parts of history that magic is stronger and others that are not, but aren't related to seasons, but with world history itself and around."

"World history?"

"Yep!" Tami nodded, "It's one of the biggest and sadly most natural occurrences in humanity, history repeats itself. Kind of like a curse even. People study history to not make the same mistakes, but while they do, the other part is making up and learning that stuff and find themselves agreeing with the past and making their own conclusions to do over again and as a result it happens again."

"That… is awful, is there nothing to do?"

"It's human nature. To find themselves in a group and try to engage into their battles to survive and the goals to fight against the opposition. The only way to stop the cycle would be to put everyone in a stance of ultimate survival: work together or die."

"Like stone age." Janna replied.

Marco shook his head to focus again, they could talk about history lessons later "What does this have to do with the magic?"

"Oh yeah!" The woman said changing her sitting pose "Well, the reason is because once there was a limited or over-limits magic on Earth is pretty simple, the Inquisition and Witch hunting events."

"So the Inquisition was right?"

"Nope." Both women replied and Janna continued, "they did kill a lot of innocents while hunting. Most people dead weren't related to magic even, or didn't even know."

Marco tried to follow their line of thought "Uhh… That means?"

"That means that, whatever your girlfriend did, she can't change history. She at most repressed what was already around. So we can recover the state to what it was and make magic flow around Earth, however I don't know about the portals stuff, that was never knowledge of our world magic."

"We still have to try." He replied determined, ready to get up. "It's the best chance We- I have to."

"Easy there, Romeo." Said Janna pushing him back down to his bed, "So far we gave you the good news."

He sighed, of course it wouldn't be that easy. "Ok, tell me the bad news."

"Well, for beginners…" Janna started, "Thomas the Train it's not the only contact missing. There's a bunch of them, for both me and Tami."

Tami looked at him with a sad smile, "That's true. And while I'm good friends and a mentor to Janna, I'm still a minor witch. In fact, Janna was stronger than I was. I lost contact with the Witches and other creatures more or less around the data your friend had cut the magic flow."

"Did something happen to them?" Marco asked in worry.

"I don't think so." The witch replied "I think they sensed something to come and took the ways to be safe, even if we lost contact with others. They probably left the others safe from consequences out of it, like Wiccas and minor witches, and in Janna's case, an illegitimate Witch."

"Illegitimate witch?" Marco asked his friend.

"Long history to another history and time. Now," Janna said, focusing back on the matter, "the point is, all the people who have better knowledge on Earth magic or how we could make the portal thing work again are out of reach and the others who are left aren't powerful enough to connect to other worlds."

Marco crossed his arms and thought for a while, looking between a magicless-witch Janna and the witch on the phone before an idea struck him again. "What if we reunited you?"

"What?" Both of them asked.

"Alone you can't do much, but… United, maybe we could bring enough power to make a connection, even to another world…" Marco took his magical scissors out of his pocket and showed them "From there I can get to other places until I reach the right one to get to Mewni."

"YOU HAVE AN INTERDIMENSIONAL SCISSOR?!" Tami screamed from the other side of the phone "Damn, you were someone important! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get one of these? A human even?!"

"I have vague memories of it." Marco shrugged, smiling sincerely to her "So, we can get contact with others you girls find and reunite to try to make these work, how about it?" Tami smiled sadly at him again and Marco could already sense the bad news again, but this time it was Janna who let out a sigh as she crossed her arms.

"You think I didn't want to meet her or bring her here for a reason? Would have been a lot easier and better" She pouted.

He looked at Tami questioning in silence what Janna meant, but observing the scenery behind her, more specific about what he thought until then it was a poster until the moment he saw a bird flying there, it dewelled him the reason of why Janna was upset and the bad news.

Marco let out a groan as he hid his face in his hands, to which Tami confirmed in voice what he just concluded, "I'm in Japan."

"And as far as we had been, well, mostly her since they refuse to talk to an illegitimate witch with no powers, most wiccans and witches left are in the same situation. We are scattered around the world" Janna replied.

He let his back fall into the bed and groaned louder. It could not be easy, could it?!

When she was told she had visitors, Star had expected to be one of her friends checking on her again for the fifth time that week, or maybe even a surprise visit from a messenger from her fianceé kingdom with more stuff arranged or to be arranged for the wedding.

She didn't not expected to meet Eclipsa sitting in the garden drinking tea as she waited for her.

"Oh dear!" Eclipsa smiled "There you are! It's so good to see you! Come sit!"

Confused, Star obliged to what the other queen requested, "Hi Eclipsa… I'm sorry I wasn't expecting you."

"Really?" She replied surprised, "Your mother invited me, I thought you do know."

The princess blinked confused, "You were the one she told me about? I didn't know. She just said it was someone I could talk about and it was a surprise."

"Well, she told me about what you had been dealing with and… I can understand. I think from all the people I'm the closest that can understand you, that's probably why she told me to come talk to you."

So that was it. Her mother was still worried, despite her doctor saying she was ok and that she agreed with the meanings behind the wedding. Yes, she was still trying to find a way out of the war menace, but it was more a precaution and safety than anything else. Besides, so far the plan is going very well and… If it came to worse than she had to make sure someone was left to look after what she left.

"I'm fine, really." Star sighed.

"It's natural for a mother to be worried, more so in this case in which the daughter was forced into a decision she wasn't ready or didn't want to take." Eclipsa replied "It's a different situation, but we both had to go with the decision for outside factors."

It was only then that Star was reminded of the fact that Eclipsa was married before Globgor, despite already being with him and having her relationship established. Solaria didn't accept their relationship and arranged her wedding with a prince from a fellow kingdom in hopes that the marriage and kingdom obligation would make Eclipsa forget her forbidden passion for a monster of all people. Star didn't know much details aside from the fact that Globgor broke his promise to never feed himself from human flesh again by consuming Chastican, getting away to have Meteora and get captured shortly after and separated for all those years.

So far, Eclipsa was really the one who could understand the situation the most, even if the reasons for the arranged marriage were different, neither had been out of love, but because the obligations of the crown required so, for the safety of the people. For Eclipsa, because the former queen's prejudice against monsters was so powerful, she took a blind eye to who she put her daughter with. For her, because the war menace was a risk to the whole of Mewni and other possible dimensions and kingdoms Mewni had been in peace, not to count the possible multiverses.

She looked up to Eclipsa again, the queen being patient in Star taking her time to speak if she wished. Eclipsa has always been a kind heart that didn't deserve what happened to her. Star was really glad she was able to help get Eclipsa's happy ending by letting her rule the Monster Castle, which was her rightful place given Globgor once was the king of monsters. Maybe she couldn't fix the time and all that happened, but she could at the very least help.

Besides, it was a great help given that monsters and Mewmans still had much distaste on each other to just live together magically, it needed time to adapt, and so far having the kingdoms nearby with a free pass to both sides was showing to be really helpful. Even those who disliked the idea, at the very least respected the new ways of living… Well, after the battle that is.

Eclipsa also had been kind to them by giving the Crown back and rebuilding Mewni. So now they could rule together and work so both kinds would live and work together, the progress has been promising so far. Both crowns had been working hard to make it possible to unify in the future.

"Do you think…" Star said unsure "Am I doing the right thing?"

Eclipsa thought a bit, "There's no way we can know. For as long as I know you, Star, you have been writing the history your own way, taking what you thought was best by following your heart but taking your mind into it." She smiled at the princess "You proved yourself over and over again, you showed every single one that you can do more than one can imagine and even yourself. When we think you're done, you come with something new and that is what makes you the best queen of us all. Even now, I have no doubt you have something in your mind of how you can make things right and fix, and if you don't have the answers… you're on the way there." She looked into Star's eyes and smiled "Am I wrong?"

For the first time in a long time, Star smiled. Eclipsa had her right, she was trying to find a way to fix things up… But she didn't know the cost of it. And if she were to admit…

"I am scared." Star replied.

"I would think it weird of you not to be. You're about to face something new, but then again, you can always overcome the obstacles given. You and Marco."

Star blinked, her heart racing to the name familiar and dearly but yet new to her. She repeated in a whisper to her lips, she could even see the image of a boy with a red hoodie over his head…

A loud childish laughter distracted her. Both of them looked beyond their table to where Globgor was playing with Meteora and… Since when Eclipsa had another child? Star felt her chest tight and the coughs coming up, but she couldn't take that since the feeling of dread and anxiety had been washing over her. To the memory of her holding the other girl as a newborn baby, to her older brother introducing them, and the images flooding back.

Her head hurt, breathing was hard, and she couldn't even walk in a straight line when she got up abruptly to leave the garden abandoning the worried calls of the other queen. She just had to leave that place. She had to be quiet and think, she had to…

Remember.

She remembers now. The friendship, the love, the heartbreak. Earth, the school, her friends, the time spent between dimensions, the fights and all that came along. She remembers him always by her side and their hands together, she remembers his little sister, who they had promised to let grow with Meteora again, she remembers Diaz, who asked to be called as her parents too, she remembers why the earrings were so important. She remembers Angie telling her goodbye and Rafael holding her close…

She was so stressed up by then she didn't get to think about Mariposa, who wasn't around and didn't get mentioned by them.

She feels the tears on her eyes and coughs some more petals as she falls on her knees. She remembers the sickness and what happened. She remembers why it's so important that the plan works and she gets someone to take care of what's left once she's gone…

Eclipsa steps behind her carefully, and kneels to the ground, trying not to scare her after how she fled the garden. Her hand makes gentle circling motions until Star is calmed enough to speak if she wishes.

"Mariposa…" Is all she can say.

Eclipsa bites her lip and sighs, deciding to say once for all. "As you know, after how well Meteora and her bonded, we agreed with Diaz to have them grow together. The vacations here and school time on Earth… Since me and Globgor were going on the vacation trip early and Mariposa wasn't in school yet, we invited her to come."

Star slowly turned to look at Eclipsa as she continued, still sniffing for what she was about to hear, "That's when they contacted us and told about what was to happen. We spoke to Moon too and… We talked. A lot. So we decided that Mariposa was taken care of by us, and Diaz sent all her material to study, and also things to be remembered by. We thought about moving to Earth or they moving here, but… It didn't solve the problem in the end. Angie said they had Marco to take care after, and they had been parenting once, they would miss Mariposa everyday, but it would be the best. Rafael agreed they couldn't take Meteora away from us to take care of given she had magic, and that we had been apart for so long and we finally had our second chance…"

"So Mariposa is trapped in here."

"Mariposa is growing up with Meteora…" Eclipsa sighed, "She's too young to understand she can't go back to Earth. We have all the stuff from her to know and we're gonna tell her, but…" The queen took a breath, "The Evanescent magic took effect here too… Mariposa doesn't remember anything about Earth aside from what we told her."

Star choked as she started crying harder, she didn't mind to know if the petals were choking her or the tears, believing she deserved at this point. She just tore a family apart and erased a little girl's memory of her own family. Mariposa didn't remember her family back on Earth and by this she could only guess that the portals cutting severed those ties and by that maybe the Diaz couldn't remember her too.

She deserved to suffocate on those petals.

Now that she thought about it, the Diaz were looking into a family album when she left… They weren't looking into her pictures only, but the ones with Mariposa.

"What have I done?!" Star whispered crying in pain "Why no one told me?!"

"Oh dear…" Eclipsa caressed her head "You had already so much… None of us wanted to give you that pain and burden. It was a parenting decision for adults to take, and we did. We didn't want you to take the blame or responsibility."

"What for?!" Star continued to cry "How can I ever forgive myself from separating her from her family, for her losing her memories? for them to lose their daughter?!"

Eclipsa smiled sadly and was about to speak when she saw someone else in the room. Star looked up to see the little girl with brown skin and the cute mole as her brother, those big brown eyes confused looking at them as she slowly approached, her hair a bit longer than she remembered and she looked at Star sad.

"Don't cry…" She said, patting Star's face.

Star smiled sadly, trying her best to not scare Mariposa as she picked her up and hugged tightly, she looked so much after her brother it hurt. She continued to whisper how much she was sorry until she began to calm down.

Eclipsa stayed there supporting Star by staying by her side simply. It didn't miss her eyes the smudged makeup that covered the broken hearts, nor the petals on the floor.

Janna walked into Marco's room letting out a whistle. There were papers all around, his computer open with at least thirty tabs open, there were scribbles, notes, and red strings on the floor, maps, pictures and even other stuff that Janna didn't pay attention to in the middle of her process.

"I understand why you weren't surprised with my board now."

Marco chuckled as he marked something in another note, "I'm the crazy guy, remember? This is organized close to how my mind had been before. I don't like to admit it, but those pills do help."

"Are you taking them, by the way?"

"Yup." Marco took the bottle out his pocket and shook so Janna could see and hear the pills inside before he put back in his pocket, "They are necessary, so I take them. I wish I didn't have to? Yes, but for now I need them and that's it."

Janna clapped to him and Marco rolled his eyes. He knew medicine was important, and took time for him to accept he needed the mental medicine just like any other sick person would need. If they were for the heart he would take them, so why not take them for his brain?

"You said you had news." The former witch replied, trying to step further into the room, "Is this it?"

Marco got up and bit his marker end thinking a bit more into how to voice his thoughts.

"I think I know how to open the portal." Janna stopped in her tracks, not daring to make any movement until he continued "If this place was once connected to Mewni through magic, it means it should be connected again, even if just a little. Might not be enough to create a portal, but the magic is already in both places, Earth is already connected to the magic dimensions as so. We could reunite a number of people to try to gather enough energy for the scissor to work, but even so might not be enough, and focusing them on one place might not help the magic to keep flowing."

His friend decided it was safer to step back and lean on the doorframe, "Ok, so, we need to reunite or not?"

"We need everyone to stay where they are." Marco replies nodding "If you had been scattered all around the world, there might be a reason for it. Tami said that the natural course is that the flow comes back little by little and the other witches and whatever are waiting the time for it, so I thought, 'what if that's it?' you know?" Marco said happily. Janna blinked slowly to him and continued her deadpan stare so he could continue for her to understand. "She cut the unnatural magic, her own and what came with her, the witches might have been influenced by the flow of her magic around, that's why they left."

Janna thought for a second, "Actually, that makes sense. If it wasn't much and suddenly there's a new one around they might have been caught by the new magic too… They could have lost all the magic like I did for mixing it up."

"Like filling a cup of water with orange juice. If you want to get rid of the mix you need to get rid of both." Marco said "And because they had the influence, they couldn't risk to stay. However!" Marco said pointing to a scheme drawing on his wall, "Tami said she and the other left were more natural magicians, that used Earth and natural sources, that's why they are out of risk!"

There was a gasp heard and then a voice replying to him, "It's natural magic!"

The trickster took her phone out of her jacket and showed him her mentor on video call who was clapping and smiling happily. "Well, that explains how I was so oddly and suddenly put in Japan."

"You weren't there before?"

"Nope!" She replied "I made a test to come here, but I was sure to fail because of some missing papers, but then they suddenly were found and approved at the last second." She thought for a second, "I wonder if there are others who have done this too."

"It might if we go by Marco's theory." Janna replied. "Maybe the Elders knew that we could restore the magic flow by ourselves and made a way to scarce us around the globe." She shrugged.

"If that's the case," The boy continued "I thought that if you all used your magic at the same time, it might be enough to get magic on Earth flowing on the levels that it was again."

The red haired woman frowned a bit in worry, "I'm not sure, it might need a lot of people doing it at the same time, and there are the timezones, not to say so far the ones I had contact don't have that much power enough to make our magic connect one point to another to make it flow." She sat back on the chair and crossed her arms thoughtfully.

"Marco, are you really asking us to do that? We would be risking to expose ourselves and be hunted down to death again for what? So you can be with your girlfriend?"

Marco gulped. She had a point, there were many factors to make it harder. to make one witch to pass the magic from a point to another, then that required that some ignored the timezones, and…

And this was the best chance he had to see Star again.

"Yes." He replied "I'm asking you to do this so I can go to her. I will cross every mountain, swim every ocean just to fix what I've broken. If I need to go around the world to talk and ask one by one to agree then I will. This is the best if not the only chance I got to be with her. So yes, I'm being selfish and asking you all to take the risk to restore the Earth magic and I can be with Star again."

There was a moment of silence before a loud squeal and giggling from the phone startled both in the room, "Okay!"

"Okay?!" Both Janna and Marco replied surprised.

"Okay." The witch nodded, grabbing some papers and writing something in them, "I'm a big fan of love, and that confession? That got me. So yeah I'm going to do it. I'll talk to my friends and the ones I got in contact to plan this and will get back to you. Ah! I can't wait to help you two get back together!" Suddenly the woman began to transform the notes she wrote into paper birds and sent them to the window. "I have much work to do, I'll see you later!" With another set of squeals and giggles she hung up.

Both teenagers stood there looking at the phone screen locking it up in shock. It was rather… easy. And that was exactly why Marco wasn't sure if it would work, if there is something he learned about this whole thing is that nothing would come easy to him.

Still, he had high hopes and for that, he grabbed the bracelet that once belonged to her and held it tight, hoping that soon he could give it back, that then he could hold her hand - if she allowed, he had to recognize that he had every right to reject by how things messed up.

"I would love to stay," Janna commented but stopped for a second, "Wait nevermind, I'll stay and look around your stuff to see if I get any other stuff to this mad plan of yours"

"Gee, thanks" Marco shrugged and moved for her to come into his room. "Be my guest. I'll get some air."

"By the smell of this room, you do need it."

He ignored the comment even through his blush. He knew she was just teasing him… right?

He was walking down the corridor when he saw his dog lying in front of the guest door crying. Once he saw Marco, it got up and began to scratch the door asking to be open for him. He was ready to open the door when he touched the handle and suddenly began to hear a song from the other side.

When I wake up, yeah I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you!

He stopped for a moment, he was sure the room wasn't in use for a long time and that there was nothing on the other side of that door. So that could only mean…

When I go out, yeah I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you!

Marco opened the door, but instead of looking into the visitor room that was very much like his, he saw a huge room, with an aquarium, stairs, and even a balcony. He stepped into the room with a fond smile on his face as he watched in admiration the figure on the bed jumping and dancing to the song blasting in her speaker.

If I get drunk, Well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you!

It was another of her times singing super glue songs, she was jumping on her bed as she sang the lyrics, laughing happily as she did so, her golden hair dancing up and down, her bed already a mess from her dancing.

And if I haver, well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who's haverin' to you!

He couldn't help but smile openly at the memory, it was such a happy and innocent time. She was just there dancing and singing to a good song and enjoying the moment, while he was making nachos down the stairs. She was smiling so brightly and it was such a good memory that made him laugh a bit to see her like that.

There was a noise beside him, she didn't notice because of the song and how distracted he was by the scene, he found himself years young putting down the table some nachos only to lean on the doorframe crossing his arms and watch her performance of happiness.

How he didn't realize by then he was already falling for her? That fond and loving smile and the joy he remembers to feel just to watch her jumping to the song and be happy for a moment… It was enough to make him smile and be happy himself.

He laughed, they were really oblivious.

Star soon took notice of him standing there watching her and motioning to him to get up her bed and join her, he gave an eye roll pretending to be reluctant but joined her more than glad.

"When I'm lonely, well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you!"

They began to dance together, both laughing above the bed as they continued to lip sync the song.

"When I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream, I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you!"

They began to run in circles in the bed, getting dizzy and then switching to another game.

"When I go out, well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you!"

They began to try to ticklish one to another. Sometimes missing and others getting right making another fit of laughter go up.

"And when I come home, yes I know I'm gonna be, I gonna be the man who's coming home with you"

They both sang together getting louder and louder until they reached the chorus and began to shake their heads, messing up their hair hard as they sang one to another as they jumped in her bed.

"But I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more! Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door!"

The song went on, and Marco grabbed a pillow to hit her, Star laughed, grabbing another to defend and attack him. They stayed like that until the chorus came back again and they sang together breathless.

"But I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more! Just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door!"

They both give a last jump and fall laying down on her bed in a fit of laughter with their belly hurting and red faces from all the energy wasted just for the fun and singing together and having a fun time.

The laughter began to fade in the air as the memory faded and gave place to reality. His dog was laying down on the bed that was just like his, he stepped closer and sat there looking at the bracelet once again.

"I miss her too." he told Barko, embracing the animal and caressing it's fur until he fell asleep.

At the door, Janna looked down at the floor before taking her phone and dialing some numbers. She couldn't let him go on like that, if Marco needed to meet the girl again to get his closure, then he would meet her. Even if she had to ask some favors she had been saving.

"MOON!"

Her name echoed into the room and she flinched, but still took a breath. She should have expected that Eclipsa would find out about what was going on sooner or later, and given she took Star as a granddaughter/nephew it was no surprise she would be furious once she found out about the whole thing and not only what Moon let her know.

"Before you take out your fury on me, take a seat so I can explain…"

"You erased her memories!" Eclipsa slammed her fists on the table, "You took away her memories about the boy she loved!"

"I had my reasons to do so and you would understand if-"

"And she has broken hearts! Her magic is unstable, she's been crying non-stop! Moon, have any idea of what you have done?!"

"I have plenty of ideas of what I did and I did what was best for her!" Moon replied, raising her voice.

Globgor came into the door a bit after being accompanied by River, Glossaryck and Baby. The monster tried to calm down his wife by gently pulling her to sit, but she refused, still staring at Moon like she could punch her, maybe she would.

"What right do you think you have to take away her memories?!"

"It was hurting her far worse than it should!"

"And taking away was the answer?! That's not up to you to decide, Moon! You out of everyone should know this!"

"Sweetie," Globgor tried again, "let's hear what they have to say."

"I did what I had to do to save my daughter, you would have done the same!"

Eclipsa gasped more angrily than before "What harm could the memories of Marco could have caused?!"

"The memories are killing her! From inside out!" From the moment of shock of the other queen, Moon took a breath and looked down, she admitted in defeat the truth about the condition. "Star has the Deadly Flowers."

Eclipsa let out a breath and finally let herself be led by her husband to sit down as he stood beside her holding her hand, now just as worried about the princess' condition as his wife was.

"What stage is it?" The king of monsters asked.

Moon sat down, River coming by her side as her hands massaged her temples, "She was vomiting the flowers weeks ago. We didn't have many options, so…"

Globgor nodded and Eclipsa looked at him confused, as he clearly knew of the sickness better, it wasn't fully disclosed how many monsters fell victim to such sickness. As he explained what the disease was and the cure methods, Eclipsa felt more heartache for the princess that was playing with the two children in her room at the moment.

"So… you took the flowers out?" She asked.

"We did," River replied, "but she seed is placed in her heart so…" He looked down sadly and Globgor continued for him.

"The flowers will continue to bloom over and over again, and quicker every time, until it comes to a point where… There's no way out."

Eclipsa felt her eyes water and held her husband's hand tight, "There must be something we can do! Some potion or-"

"Don't you think I've been trying?" Moon replied looking up with teary eyes, "I sleep every night without knowing if my daughter will be there in the next day, or for how long… And she's about to marry someone she doesn't love because Marco is back on Earth where we cannot reach anymore."

Eclipsa sniffed and stood in silence for a moment with them. It was a serious situation, and if Star had come to pass before the wedding would be even worse.

Even so, she knew she should, but couldn't bring herself to tell them that Star had partially recovered her memories and the flowers are back. Star made her promise not to do so and now she gets why, she's afraid of losing them again and by now… That's all she has left of her happiness back then.

"So we… wait?" Eclipsa said reluctantly.

Moon closed her eyes with River, showing how much pain they have to admit that all they could do was to provide the best they could while they could, but they couldn't afford a cure or miracle to get her rid of her pain and death.

Eclipsa wished for a moment that she could have convinced Diaz to move to Mewni, this could have solved so many things… but they didn't know back then. Even if they did, once Star severed the magic ties, they would have been sent back to the place they belonged, without magic.

But if was like that, then-

"Wait, Star erased her magic back from Earth, then the same happened from here, right?"

"That's right." Glossaryck confirmed.

Eclipsa then looked up a bit more hopeful, "Then how's Mariposa still here?"

It took a moment for the others to understand what she meant, but when they did, the same feeling of a sparkle of hope that got into them.

"That's impossible!" Moon said, still hard-believing "Earth is magicless!"

Globgor got up and turned to them, "Eclipsa has a point, we had been taking care of Mariposa ever since the portals closed. The only thing that changed was that she also lost her memories, she is still affected by the magic, and possibly what happens back on Earth for that to happen."

The Mewni queen got up and turned to the magic guide, "Glossaryck, is it possible?"

The blue creature thought for a moment, "Earth has its own natural magic like all dimensions, but would be very unlike - not to say impossible to make it connected back or flow enough to connect again. It would be necessary to have an incredible amount of magical power to reconnect with their own magic to make it flow enough and then later they do it again for someone from this side to make the connection."

"We didn't have to do that the first time," River complained.

"The ties weren't severed or blocked then. Just out of use" Said Baby. "Besides, Earth has been out of Magic users for many years, and we have no communication now. They would have to make this plan on their own with none of our communication. No one knows about this to make it happen."

Moon was about to try to argue with another solution when Tom and Ponyhead got into the room in a hurry and were screaming with something in their hands. The queen was about to ask for them to calm down and sit when Tom put the device with a point blinking and made her go speechless.

"I don't know how, but somehow, they are up to something!" Tom said.

The others got around Moon to look into the screen and see what they were so amazed about too and felt themselves in shock as much as the teenagers were, but in a good way. Glossaryck groaned rolling his eyes, but smiled still after everyone gave a hopeful laugh.

On the other side of the room, Ponyhead was dancing in the air chanting happily "I cannot believe it! Earth-Turd did it! Earth has magic again!"

_________

This is for now.

On a brighter note, I'm out of the horrible writer block the finale and few other things gave me. That is to say I'm finally writing the final chapters to go.

Thank you again, and onwards to the finale!

PS: we got a discord now if interest anyone :)

A special shout out to @tamiletrange for having my back and also, a special tribute for her in this chapter as Janna’s mentor

@manifisto42 @judytrashcan @thatgirlinspace @ido100 @cid331 @krystalhuntress @mrevaunit42 @luigifan7 @avatarrocks132 @touya-r @dvvkroh @starkiller9903 @oofcorp @ironlightsheep @ironlord-firoh @the-x-files-fan

#svtfoe #svtfoe fanfic #svtfoe ever after #star vs the forces of evil #star vs the force of evil spoilers #starco #fanfic #by me #svtfoe fic #star vs fandom #star butterfly #marco díaz #moon butterfly #river butterfly

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

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Stiff Peaks and Soggy Bottoms

Summary: Combining a Kryptonian, a Bat, and you with a fascination with the Great British Bake Off is a really bad idea. You’ve had worse.

Dancing in and above the Starlight

Summary: There is nothing to do but dance the night away.

Jaime Reyes

Operation Cupid

Summary: You and Jaime try to set up you lovestruck but painfully dense best friends. It goes as well as expected.

Clark Kent

What’s Wrong with Superman?

Summary: Flyman is a really stupid name.

Explosive Chemistry

Summary: Chemistry labs can be a bit tedious. Nothing laser vision can’t fix though.

Trials and Tribulations

summary: You hold up your hands and wave them in the air as if to clear it.“How about I pick the contest? I am the prize after all,” you say sensibly. “What a splendid idea!” Atlas says and Clark almost feels sorry for him. Is Clark the only one who knows you’re evil?

John Constantine

Dad! Constantine AU (on going):

Hug Tutorials

Summary: Constantine is stuck babysitting. Not exactly his area of expertise. So how is he supposed handle a feral 8 year old? Help comes from an unexpected source.

Kyle Rayner

Series

Weird roommates AU that only makes sense in my head

Catgirls and Wingmen

The only cure to shooting your chances with Zeke in the foot is procrastinating finals by playing a dating game with your roommates. (ft: Attack on Titan characters)

Horse Girls

Summary: Anti-horse-porn propaganda is the way to a person’s heart.

An Eternity of Lovers will Make Us no Wiser

summary: Hal gives Kyle the brilliant idea of proposing to you with his pelt. This is actually a good idea if A) it didn’t come from Hal; B) it wasn’t half-baked; C) Kyle remembered a very crucial detail.

Hal Jordan

Roy Harper

Set Them by the Door

Summary: It’s hard to say not to a favor when Oliver Queen is the one asking, but it becomes nearly impossible after meeting Roy and Lian.

Arrowfam

A Pair of Aces

summary: Planning out Connor’s coming out would be simple if Roy and Mia didn’t get involved.

Barbara Gordon

Pop Song

Summary: Shitty pop music is a comfort in the No Man’s Land.

#conner kent x reader #conner kent imagine #conner kent #jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes #superman #superman x y/n #superman x reader #superboy #blue beetle #john constantine

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zenithastra · 3 years

Text

Albedo - Creation

Part two of “stories I want to port over from the old blog”. I’ll post a few more tomorrow.

Albedo was a master of alchemy. It was rare for him to find a problem he couldn’t solve with some ingenuity. Others called him a genius, but Albedo merely thought his work was simple for someone like him.

However, tomorrow was a very special day- the day of your birth- and he had yet to find that perfect gift. The institution of gift-giving was already a foreign enough concept. He’d mostly relied on Sucrose to tell him what to buy for who. But this time, with only a week to prepare, she’d stubbornly put her foot down. “They’re your partner,” Sucrose said. “Figure it out yourself.” So, not one to be deterred by a challenge, decided the solution was simple: if he couldn’t buy the right gift, he’d simply make you one. And at the beginning of the week, he thought it would be simple. He could make anything. It wouldn’t take much to create something perfect for you.

His first instinct had, of course, been alchemy. A new weapon seemed like a good start, and Albedo could make most of the things the blacksmith would need. The ore he’d have to find on his own, but he could break those open without much effort. But about halfway through the process of refining some old Hilichurl scrolls into something usable, Albedo realized this creation wouldn’t really be his. It would be the blacksmith doing all of the work. Therefore, the present wouldn’t be very personal, something Sucrose had drilled into him numerous times since you and he had started an official courtship.

So, his first idea was discarded.

His second plan was to make some jewelry. Albedo was pretty good at fashioning gemstones and other precious materials into various shapes. Retrieving said gems wasn’t particularly hard. Plenty of materials had been left behind by adventurers who didn’t understand exactly what was needed to transmute a gem into one of a larger size. But again, just before he started building this potential gift, he stopped. He realized that he was not creating anything. Just building something out of things that others had left behind. And that just wouldn’t do. He needed something different. Something he could make with only minimal help from others.

So, he continued thinking.

His third idea was arguably the easiest to execute, but it was not something Albedo had done before. You baked for him often, frequently bringing by delicious chocolate or fruity snacks during his long work hours. And you were a natural baker, something that still mystified him. And while he believed you were special, he decided that it couldn’t be that hard to make something for you. Baking was just another form of alchemy, after all. For an extra personal touch, he gathered all of the base ingredients himself and spent an entire day turning his sweet flowers into sugar, his wheat into flour, and procuring everything else he needed. And when all of that had gone off without a hitch, all Albedo had to do was follow a recipe Sucrose had graciously given him and the cupcakes would be ready.

And yet, for some reason, that’s not what happened. And a few hours later, Albedo was left perplexed with two trays of inedible baked goods. When he inquired with Sucrose as to why that happened, she asked him a variety of questions that only confused him more. Yes, he followed the recipe. Yes, he’d set his timers right. No, the ingredients weren’t expired. Yes, he’d been paying attention while they were baking. No, he didn’t have a clue why they turned out that way.

And so, plan number three was quite literally thrown out.

Now there he was with less than a day before your birthday, staring at a small package of rose seeds. He’d purchased them from Flora on a whim and slowly convinced himself that this was the right gift. Flowers rushed to maturity through the use of alchemy. It would have been better if he had somehow gathered the seeds himself, but Albedo knew he was running out of time. Normally, attempting something like this would take days of preparation, experimentation, and lots of research. Albedo had hours at most, and anyone who could have helped him had already gone home for the day.

So, he did the only thing he could do. He got to work.

He started with a single seed, examining it as closely as he could. He detailed its shape, size, and weight. Reviewed everything he knew about cultivating flowers and gathered anything that could possibly be used as a pot. Thankfully, he’d already gathered dirt samples for another experiment, something he could ask Sucrose to replace. After he poured the packet onto the table, he was disheartened to see there were only ten. Even if everything went perfectly, he’d be short the dozen that Sucrose had once told him was a special number.

Six, He decided. If twelve was the perfect number, then six would be just as good. He knew it was a logical leap, but it made him feel better as he planted each seed into their respective pot. For the first one, he tried special alchemy infused water that had worked well on the various Dragonspine flora. And the seed did grow, but it withered almost instantly in the warm air.

One down. Only three more mistakes to go.

The second one was a bit more successful as Albedo fed it a concoction of water from Starfell lake and a growth formula he’d made on a whim a few weeks prior. But that plant didn’t have the shine he wanted. It wasn’t quite as large as he’d seen other roses, nor was it the right color. Instead of a vibrant red, it was a meddling mix of pink and black. He assumed it was the growth formula that had been wrong and moved on without it.

Two down. Two to go.

The third one showed significantly more promise with a concoction that Sucrose had made to help grow imported flora in their camp at Dragonspine. While the color wasn’t quite as bold as Albedo wanted, he accepted that it was beautiful enough and moved on to the next seed with a new mixture. This one failed to grow at all, much to his disappointment. When he tried to use Sucrose’s formula a second time, the plant both grew and died within a few seconds; no better than the first one.

Three down, but he had one success. That might just be good enough.

To ensure that he would have at least a small bouquet, Albedo used the rest of Sucrose’s discovery on four more plants. But for the last one, he wanted something special. Something perfect and as vibrant as you were. So, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, he paced his lab, debating on how exactly to achieve the colors he wanted. His mind raced through possibilities, and he began using other plants he’d gathered to test various mixtures. A few showed promise, but most just withered. But Albedo didn’t get frustrated. Instead, he found himself enjoying the work. Others might have seen it as tedious, but he found it refreshing. It had been a long time since he’d done something just for himself, and even longer since he’d used his alchemy for you.

He was determined to get it right, no matter the time invested.

But then you showed up, much to his surprise, and the entire experiment derailed.

“Albedo?” You said, gazing at the mess the lab had turned into. It was the first time Albedo realized how obsessed he’d become with this little project. He was almost embarrassed at the chaos he’d left behind but knew you’d seen the lab in a similar state before. Such was the nature of his experiments. If anything, the state of his own clothing was much more distressing, as he’d become caked in dirt and other grime moving between all the plants at such a rapid pace.

“You are… here,” He said somewhat awkwardly. “I was not expecting you.”

“It’s almost midnight,” you said, your voice laced with concern. “I was worried about you.”

Albedo glanced outside, genuinely surprised to see how high the moon had gotten. It had only felt like an hour or two had passed, not the entire day. “I apologize,” He said. “It wasn’t my intention to worry you so.”

You looked around, eyebrows raised. “What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into this time?”

Albedo glanced at the roses he’d left behind before looking back at you. “I was almost done with my bouquet.”

“Bouquet?” You echoed. “Of what?”

“Roses,” He said. “Your favorite.”

Your eyes widened. “You mean all of this,” You waved your hands out in front of you. “Is because you were trying to grow roses… for me?”

“Yes.”

Your gaze softened as your smile widened. “You didn’t have to do all this, Albedo. The fact that you were thinking of me at all means a lot.”

“But it’s your birthday,” Albedo said. “I wanted…” He trailed off as, for the first time in a long time, words failed him. He wanted things to be special. Yet here he was, failing again. This whole week had been a mess, and he’d missed you for a majority of it, all trying to make something that would only last a short amount of time.

You stepped up in front of him, brushing your thumb under his eye. Specks of dirt hit the floor as you moved to his cheeks, and his breath hitched when your eyes met. It felt like ages since the two of you had just been together like this. He’d been home so late, and you up so early that you rarely saw each other. And that was partially his fault. He had no reason to stay out so late. He’d simply done so because it was normal. Albedo was still figuring out the whole ‘relationship’ thing. He was still trying to break down the walls around his own heart; the ones that made it difficult to love anyone.

But you were still there. You always were, even when he wasn’t there for you.

“Come home,” You said softly. “Take the day off. We can spend it together.”

Albedo nodded, blushing as you leaned in to give him a chaste yet wonderful kiss. You smiled as you pulled away, taking his hand to lead him out of the mess. He knew he’d have to apologize to Sucrose and the others later, as they wouldn’t be able to work under such conditions. But, as the bell struck midnight and he wandered home with you, Albedo realized that this is where he was really meant to be.

The world could wait for one day. All he wanted to do was spend time with you.

AO3 - Ko-Fi - Master List

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact reader #genshin impact x gn!reader #reader #albedo #albedo x reader

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whythinktoomuch · 4 years

Text

~pArT FoUr~

(pt. i) (pt. ii) (pt. iii)

Lena spends the better part of her days either crying or trying not to cry.

The pressure in her chest is constant. Heavy and thumping. Especially in the moments where she forgets to remember just how terribly she’s hurting.

It’s unbearable. Even with how much her body has already endured, how hard she’s worked to survive thus far… this? This feels impossible to live through.

A part of her doesn’t want to.

Which is patently ridiculous, of course, considering how Lena’s already survived this exact situation at least once before. So, at some point, she must have wanted to come out the other end, scathed and all the more independent for it.

And yet… her body must remember it somehow, even when she herself cannot. Through muscle memory or synaptic paths already long since paved and broken in. Because, somehow, Lena can feel it in her bones—both broken and not—that she doesn’t want to try as hard this time.

That this time around, surviving doesn’t feel so inevitable.

When Alex goes on to take over all aspects of her medical care, it suits Lena just fine. She’s too heartbroken to be a model patient anymore, and too angry about the state of her heart to care. And Alex, at the very least, somewhat deserves the treatment.

It takes some time, much effort, and an exceptionally tedious line of questioning to determine that Lena’s missing the last ten months of her life. Alex tries to catch her up as best she can, without overwhelming her with all the details. Everything uncovered in the process is strange in its vague familiarity. Like ideas that Lena may have considered once or twice before, or perhaps even dreamed about.

She shot and killed Lex. She learned about Supergirl’s secret, and somewhere along the way, apparently became the would-be villain of the week. Then there was some inter-dimensional crisis. Then through some grand space-time fuckery, Lex was back, and alive and well enough to go after Lena with the Lexosuit. Then… well, there’s no point in parsing through what came then. Because right now, the only that matters is that… Lena can’t stay here anymore.

Lena’s right hand glides across the whiteboard with blessed ease as she composes her message, Transfer me. I’m healing, I’m stable. I want to leave.

“You realize that you’re here for your own safety, right?” Alex asks with a long-suffering sigh that has Lena huffing right back at her in indignation.

I REFUSE to be a prisoner

“You are not—God! Lex tried to kill you.”

SO?

“Look, I’m sorry,” Alex says, shaking her head. “But until the active threat to your life is neutralized, you’re staying put.” She scowls when the whiteboard creaks dangerously in Lena’s hands. “And don’t even think about throwing that at me. ‘Cause you and I both know that I’m not nearly as nice as Kara.”

Lena drops her gaze, suddenly forced to blink back against the hot prick of tears. She has to actively stop herself from staring at the corner of the whiteboard, the dent in it both prominent and devastating.

“Is there anything I can get you?” Alex asks. There’s just a hint of softness to her voice, a slight touch of Kara in the solicitude, and it roils Lena’s stomach.

Lena jots the first thing that pops into her head.

Macallan 12 year

Alex rolls her eyes. “Leaving now.”

With a huff, Lena snaps her fingers in rapid succession to call Alex back, then jots down the second thing that’s popped into her head.

WORK

Alex stares at the word, mulls over the request with a half-frown. “No laptop. Only phone. Deal?”

Lena practically slumps back into her bed in relief. She gives two thumbs up and nods emphatically.

Deal.

—

Three hours and twenty-three minutes after Lena gets her phone back, she hears a commotion unfolding right outside her door. An unfamiliar voice insisting No, you can’t be here, and a familiar voice snapping right back in a way that grants Lena’s heart a newfound comfort. It’s a voice that she hasn’t considered recalling in quite some time, but now, she’s taken aback by just how glad she is to finally hear it again.

“Lena? Lena. Thank fucking god, I found you. What the hell is this place?” Andrea strides into the room like she owns the place, flanked by a handful of large burly men in black suits. She orders a couple of them to stand watch at the door as she takes in Lena’s appearance. “Jesus, what have they done to you…”

Andrea cradles Lena’s chin with gentle hands, runs her fingers through Lena’s hair with the most tender expression of concern on her face, and the corners of Lena’s eyes are already gathering tears. Because, evidently, sometime in the last ten months, they’ve gotten to the point where they were allowed to touch each other like this again. And as much as it hurts, the poorly tended to wound pales in comparison to her most recent heartbreak, so Lena leans into the touch greedily and readily.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Andrea insists. “We’ll get you set up in a real hospital. Then we can sue every fucking person in this godforsaken facility until their great, great grand-children are paying out—”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Lena feels her chest cracking open all over again. She looks past Andrea’s shoulder and sees Supergirl shouldering her way into the room, stone-faced and demanding. Andrea immediately puts herself in between them.

“We were just leaving actually,” she says, hand planted firmly on Lena’s shoulder. “You can’t keep her here.”

“Lex tried to kill her,” Supergirl says. “You take her out of here, he’ll try again and might even succeed. Are you willing to risk her life like that?”

Andrea scoffs and gestures at her bodyguards with a careless flourish. “I can protect her just as well as you.”

“Really?”

Supergirl grabs one of the men by the collar and lifts him straight into the air, never once breaking eye contact with Andrea. The man protests, his arms and legs swinging about, but Supergirl hardly even notices the blows. When Andrea whips her head around at the rest of her men, they all just shuffle around in an awkward silence.

“Supergirl saved my daughter’s life,” one of them mumbles in half-explanation, half-apology. “In that hospital fire…” He gives Supergirl a solemn nod. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Supergirl says, nodding right back. She gently sets the other bodyguard back down onto his feet. “Sorry. Just making a point, friend.”

The stillness that follows crackles dangerously, with neither Supergirl or Andrea backing down, their glares equally matched in severity and purpose. Then Lena feels the hand on her shoulder start to tremble and slip off.

“The second,” Andrea hisses. “The very fucking second that Lex is apprehended, I’m coming back here for her, and not even you will be able to stop me.” She turns back to Lena, takes her hand in both of her own with a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, love… But I’d rather have you safe than anything else. You understand, right?”

Lena nods, even as her rather hastily thought out escape route starts to collapse before her very eyes. She turns one of Andrea’s hands over and traces a heart into the palm.

With a slight hitch of breath, Andrea presses a quick kiss to Lena’s hairline before addressing her men again, “Come on. We got a fucking madman to catch.” She gives Lena one last meaningful look and hand squeeze before storming out of the room, barely giving Supergirl time to side-step around her.

Lena exhales a defeated breath through her nose and holds out her phone. Given how she’s abused the privilege, she figures it’s only a matter of time before it’s confiscated again. At least this way, Supergirl would have to look Lena in the eye as she forces her back into isolation.

But Supergirl makes no move to take the phone. She just levels her steady gaze with Lena’s face. Then at the outstretched hand and phone. Then at the whiteboard sitting at the foot of her bed.

She leaves without saying a single word.

(next part here)

#absolutely did not get to the part i wanted to lol #my words.

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jaeminlore · 4 years

Text

To Live and Let Go | Renjun

summary: if there’s something left to be learned, then my time is running. why would i waste it all, wasted on you?

words: 2.3k+

category: librarian!renjun x tutor!reader, fem!presenting!reader, adventure au, a bit meta, what’s going on idk ur guess is as good as mine, some sections are written better than others, reader is a tutor for prince jaemin, this sucks so bad i’m so sorry.

note: this was a commission for @yrb-reads who donated to a charity of their choice. thank you :) i’m terribly sorry it took so long and it's definitely not up to par the way it should be. if you want something else written to make up for it let me know. there was depression, full time job, and a death in the family i would like to blame, but i should’ve prioritized this story more for you, and for that i’m sorry. thank you so much for donating, and i hope this serves as a holiday gift for you. again, sorry about the short length

To Renjun, libraries feel like home. Especially the castle’s library, located just west of the kitchen; a hidden gem unknown to most people. Really, only known to Prince Jaemin and Renjun, if he really thought about it. Perhaps a few tutors and scholars as well.

But these factors don’t make it home. Instead, it is the wooden walls of thick cedar trunks, built long before the castle walls were put up; when the builders didn’t have the heart to tear such a piece of architecture down. It’s the way it smells like a forest at all times, and how the inside walls are chipped and falling onto the bare floor. It is the large shelves, made just decades ago, crammed up against each other and overflowing with the royal family’s books. Each piece of literature is practically an heirloom, save the small shelf in the corner where the prince hides his new romance novels he gets delivered straight from the village of Rubin.

The library feels like a bridge between the kingdom and the village. Inside these four walls, wooden and chipped, Rubin feels like one entity, undivided by classes or rank.

It also happens to be the one place Renjun is allowed to hang his paintings.

Ever since he was younger, it has been Renjun’s dream to be a portrait artist. To be able to place his thumbprint in Rubin’s history by painting the royal family or a few important nobles, is all he has ever wanted. But the King and Queen prefer a man of nobility to do the work, so Renjun was shot down. Since he sold everything he had to come and shoot for his dream, the royal family had offered him a pity job.

Correction: Prince Jaemin had begged his parents not to turn Renjun away empty-handed and convinced them to let him earn his pay here in the castle.

Prince Jaemin does a lot for Renjun. He had introduced him to his friend and closest servant, Donghyuck, who has a sharp tongue but no real malice to back up anything he ever said. Renjun had moved in with him, and used his side of the house as his painting room. Donghyuck barely even complains about the scent of oil paint anymore.

Prince Jaemin also got him his current job as a bookbinder. Which, in itself, is a very lonely and tedious job. Perfect for a boy like Renjun who only wants to work with no outside distractions. Aside from his friends in the castle, that is. Or the prince’s tutor, who comes in for study material.

Most importantly, Prince Jaemin lets Renjun hang up his portraits in the library. He had said that they deserved to be hung up, even if it couldn’t be hung up in the royal hall. Renjun had nearly burst into tears in front of the hyperactive prince.

They had met during a touchy time in the prince’s life. He had just returned to the castle after a trip to the village. There, he was hiding from potential assassins, but for some reason, the prince seemed more upset about coming back.

It was in the quiet of that library that Jaemin let Renjun, a complete stranger at the time, in on the secret that he was in love with a girl from the village. For the young artist, it wasn’t hard to imagine. Prince Jaemin was known for his free spirit and hyperactive personality. There was no way he could become attached to a noble raised under discipline.

Of course the prince was raised under the highest of discipline, but he somehow found a way to rebel against it all and stay true to himself, even if it meant hiding the portraits he liked the best in a forgotten library, or befriending the healer and servant of the castle instead of the lords.

He was wonderful, and Renjun couldn’t wait for him to be king.

The library was home because Prince Jaemin made it home. He had crafted a place between the castle and the village — a place of seclusion — just for Renjun and his thoughts.

“I just want them to listen to me,” Jaemin moans, dropping his chin onto his open romance book. “I’ve been asking them for almost a year and a half to let me go back to the village, but they refuse to listen to me.”

Renjun hums non-committedly. “Chin up, please. I’m not finished.”

Jaemin glares at Renjun through his eyelashes but obliges, a pout still evident on his face. He returns to his casual pose of leaning his cheek against his fist and turning the pages of his book. “Anyway, I really want to go back to the village.”

“I know,” Renjun sighs and dips the tip of his paintbrush into the copper-colored paint he had mixed. “Right now, you have to obey them. You may be the prince but obviously they’re the king and queen.”

“I’m about to be nineteen,” Jaemin mumbles angrily.

“And when your coronation arrives, you’ll have more freedom to do things like visit the village.”

“Her grandmother died, you know,” Jaemin says, morose. “I could’ve been there for the funeral, at least.”

Renjun grabs a slimmer paintbrush and begins to note the details of Jaemin’s face. “I know, Your Highness. But if she’s anything like you’ve told me, then I’m sure she understands.”

Jaemin bites his lip and looks at the book sadly. “I just miss her.”

“It’s your duty to stay here. I’m sure she realizes that.”

Jaemin rolls his eyes, albeit sadly, and goes back to posing.

“Your Highness! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Renjun’s brush shakes slightly as his mind registers the new voice. It is Jaemin’s tutor. You, a servant the same age as the prince, seem to be the only one he will actually listen to. Perhaps because you entertain his many ideas. Perhaps because Renjun had begged him to keep you around.

Because you not only entertained Jaemin’s ideas, you also praised Renjun’s art. You are a no-nonsense tutor, but as a friend, you have had neverending praise and encouragement to the two boys.

Renjun longs to be around you as much as Jaemin is. In fact, you are the only real reason Renjun finds himself being jealous of the prince. He often wonders how Jaemin could even think about a villager he only knew for a week, when you are right there beside him, every day.

Just the blossom of your smile could make Renjun’s mind freeze in all it’s concerns. Suddenly, the portrait in front of him means little to nothing, and all he could really think about was how many different shades of pink and brown he’d have to mix before he matched the color of your lips. “Hello, Y/n.”

“Good day,” you greet, bowing slightly. “What are you painting today?”

Renjun almost forgets to breathe when you walk toward him and lean your head over his shoulder to inspect his art. He can smell the amber musk on your collarbones and feel your soft hair tickle his cheek. “J-Jaemin.”

“You always paint him,” you murmur, almost in boredom. “Say, do you do favors?”

“Come again?”

“Like, if I paid you, would you draw a portrait of me? I think my mother would really like it— she’s always asking me to get a portrait done.”

Renjun feels his tongue rest heavy in his mouth. Before he can speak, Jaemin grabs your arm. “He can do it! Now let’s get to my lessons!”

And that was that on that.

The stream trickles loudly, leaping down and over the rock formations and falling into the pool with grace. This is where Renjun comes to find inspiration. It’s also where he comes to practice his art.

It’d be nice to do it into the library, but Renjun knows that he would abandon all his actual duties — the ones that he gets paid to do.

He eyes his oil paints, color coordinated from lightest to darkest shade. He dips his brush in pure white, to lay a foundation coat atop his canvas.

Truth be told, he could paint you from memory. But if he told you that, he’d have to admit to his crush on you, and that’s far too embarrassing. No, thank you.

Renjun takes off his sandals and plants his feet on the soft grass. The blades tickle his toes, so he tries to relax his muscles. He has the canvas stretched out on his knees, which is a bit unconventional, but it works. He looks up at the afternoon sun; his straw hat scrapes the trunk of the tree he’s leaning against.

“Sorry I’m late. Jaemin needed help with Latin...” You wander in and trail off, looking at the pool in wonder. “This is beautiful.”

You’re dressed in silver shades — Renjun wonders if you intentionally made yourself look extra beautiful, or if that’s you, in the reflection of the water. He clears his mind and his throat. “I figured It’d be a nice background for a portrait.”

“How do you want me posed?” Your lips are upturned, soft, and Renjun starts a mental list on how to keep you smiling.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Renjun hurries. “We’ll be here for an hour or so each session until it’s finished.”

You sit in the grass, atop your knees, and smooth out any wrinkles in your garments. “My Mother is going to be so thrilled, Renjun. Thank you so much for doing this.”

His tongue feels heavy at the compliment, so he settles for a simple nod. The foundation coat is still drying, so Renjun pulls his sketchbook and a pencil out of his bag. “Do you mind if I start with a few sketches?”

“Of course not,” you say. Your eyes clip to his, bright and clear, and Renjun thinks this is going to be a lot harder than he initially thought.

(The next session, Renjun is so focused on getting the outline of your back right that he doesn’t even notice you moving towards him.

“You’ve got paint on your brow,” you say.

Renjun reflexively wipes at his face, feeling himself blush at your observation. “Is it gone?”

You grin — looking straight at him — and reach up. Gently, you use the pad of your thumb to scrub off the paint. “Now it is.”

Renjun thinks he’d rather melt into the floor than finish the rest of this session.)

Renjun threads the spine of his latest project: scribe records from the recent knighting tournament and ceremony. Even as he pulls the last thread tight, his finger raw and screaming, he’s thankful that he wasn’t the one editing these records.

Jaemin hasn’t been to the library in awhile. His current betrothement has him in a frenzied mindset, and Renjun is sure he has more important things to do than hang out with his friends.

Still, he misses the company.

He sets the glue along the spine and aligns the pages with the leather backing. He’s so busy focusing on making sure the lines are straight that he doesn’t notice someone walk into the library. “Hello, Renjun.”

Renjun jumps, and the spine of the book misaligns. He leaves it on his table, and when he turns around, you’re there smiling at him. “Hey, Y/n. I didn’t know you tutored Jaemin today.”

”I don’t,” you admit. A bashful look overtakes your face and you focus on one of the books in Renjun’s return pile. “I wanted to thank you for the portrait. My mother loved it.”

“I’m glad!” Renjun says, brightening up. He notices that you still look rather distant. “Is something wrong?”

”it’s just...” you bite your lip. “Do, um, do I really look like that?”

Renjun wants to ask what you mean. But he sort of knows. “Your portrait? Is it not to your likeness?”

You furrow your brows. “I just... You made me look very beautiful.”

“You are very beautiful,” Renjun replies, voice low and steady. “Surely, you know that.”

Embarrassment paints your face and you shrug. “I dunno...”

“I know,” Renjun says, surety building in his voice. “Whether you believe it or not, it’s a fact that you are very beautiful. I hope my painting portrayed even an inch of your beauty.”

You look aghast at his words, mouth open in shock. “Are you… Are you serious?”

Renjun stares at the way your lips look, pursed in confusion. “Why on earth would I lie to you?”

“I don’t mean to insult your integrity,” you say, eyes wide. “It’s just that no one has ever been so upfront with me.”

This is it, Renjun thinks. This is my chance to confess. He takes a deep breath, steps closer to you. Toe to toe, so that your chest is brushing against his. And the outside air lessens it’s chill, so that Renjun is sure he’s sweating, nervous and hot and wanting.

His luck hasn’t run out yet. “Can I be upfront again?”

Your breath hitches, leaving Renjun’s own words isolated, suspended in the air between you. “Yes,” you finally say, honeyed lips nearly brushing his own.

“I’m in love with you,” Renjun allows himself to say. “And I want to kiss you. Selfishly.”

“Then do so.”

Your lips are honeyed; candied peonies against his own cruel briars and thorns. Renjun wonders if he’s good enough for you. If book binding and tutoring go hand in hand. If he’ll be stuck forever in the royal library, giving you books to read to the prince. He wonders if this is the life of a peasant, always one step behind the nobles.

Two people in service to a prince can never truly serve each other.

But Renjun doesn’t hold on to that thought. Instead, he surges forward, holds your body like it’s falling, kissing your mouth and your chin and your neck and your skin and—

“Hey,” you cup his face in his hands. “This isn’t the last time you’ll have me. There’s no need to be urgent.”

So he slows down. Gentle touches and warm gazes. Tastes you as much as touches you. All lips and no teeth. Memorized the palm of your hand against his jaw.

You’ll still be here, you said so.

Renjun decides to let go.

#the last paragraph is good but the rest sucks srry #renjun fluff #renjun angst #adventure au #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream au #renjun au #destwrites

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laequiem · 4 years

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She kills my self control - Chapter 1

/ Cardan is trying to figure out his feelings for Jude. Lots of pining. Lots of fantasizing. Set during The Cruel Prince.

My eyes follow her hand as she spreads a thick red jam on a piece of bread and brings it to her mouth. Some jam sticks to her cheek and I watch as Taryn leans forward and wipes it away.

cw: unhealthy coping mechanisms (alcohol, sex); physical abuse; nsfw

read on ao3 • next chapter • all chapters

Chapter 1: The one you want the most will be the one that you defy

This morning’s lesson had been boring, as always. What use do I have with plant taxonomy? The afternoon’s lecture is even more tedious: etiquette. As if that hadn’t been ingrained in my brain from growing up in court and being taught how to behave - knowledge that I used to do the exact opposite.

Thankfully, we have an hour to eat before the next lecture. I sit with my back against a tree, eating from a giant plate of cheese, nuts and fruits that a servant brought for me. I share the meal with Valerian and Locke, who were about as interested in the previous lecture as I was. Nicasia is eating with some of the other female students today. Under the biggest tree in the yard, on a colorful wool blanket, the human twins eat together.

"So, Locke. You still haven't told us which one you're fucking."

A few weeks ago, Locke had told us about his plans to seduce the twins - his exact wording. He detailed his plan to throw rocks at their window and serenade them, but he never mentioned which one he was seeing. Valerian thinks he's trying to hide it from us, but I can tell the twins apart. I've seen Locke eyeing both of them.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Locke told him in his smuggest tone.

I would. I don't know why, but I would. Something about seeing Locke with Jude, touching her casually, gets in my head. I know he’ll only use her and dump her - and I don’t know why I even care. I turn my gaze towards the girls. Jude is gesticulating as she tells something to Taryn, who listens to her intently. My eyes follow her hand as she spreads a thick red jam on a piece of bread and brings it to her mouth. Some jam sticks to her cheek and I watch as Taryn leans forward and wipes it away.

"Cardan?"

I quickly turn my head back to my friends and try to look as bored as possible. "What?"

I see Locke's cunning eyes narrow as he looks at me. He saw me staring at them. Fuck.

"Fuck, Marry, Kill. The Duarte sisters." Valerian replies.

Only my friends could play such a game when the subjects of said game are sitting a few meters away. It is a traditionally human game, but the concept of it is so typically fae that it caught on very quickly in Faerie. I consider it for a moment, trying not to think too hard about it.

"Taryn looks like she would be a good obedient housewife."

That leaves the other two. I bring a piece of golden fruit to my mouth.

"I bet Vivi is a lot of fun. Not as much of a prude as the others."

"Their bodies are so vulgar," Valerian says with disgust, nodding towards Taryn and Jude, “Vivienne is the only good option.”

“So I guess you’d kill Jude,” Locke concludes, raising an eyebrow.

I shrug. I would never actually do it, but if she was gone… Perhaps I would stop thinking about her all the time.

“I bet she would love to know. Right, Locke?” Valerian grins as he gets up.

Oh no, he will not use me to scare her.

“You were not an option, Valerian, but nothing stops me from killing you if you tell her.”

“You’re such a killjoy, Your Highness,” Valerian spits as he rolls his eyes.

As Valerian leaves towards where Nicasia was eating, Locke leans in towards me, his grin wicked.

“We both know who you’d rather fuck.”

I give him my best imitation of his grin. “I get plenty already, I have no need for inexperienced humans.”

He snickers. I have had enough, of him, of this day, of being sober.

“Tell the professor I was needed at the palace.”

I get up and leave the courtyard without a look back. Nobody stops me as I walk to Hollow Hall, probably sensing my temper getting worse by every second I spend sober. I need a drink, some hallucinogen - anything to make me feel numb and stop thinking so much.

I grab a bottle from the kitchen as I walk to my room and lock the door behind me. Not even bothering with a glass, I down half of the wine in one go.

Why do I keep thinking about her? She’s just a mortal. Destined to rot in the soil and feed the worms. There are dozens of mortals working in this very house, and I never had any interest to take any of them to bed.

I draw myself a bath in the coldest water possible. I hiss as I enter, but even after spending a few minutes in, it does not remove the images from my mind. Her full lips. The jam on her cheek and how much I want to lick it clean. That sharp tongue sucking jam off her finger. I lean back in the bath and sigh. I’m a degenerate. I grab my cock and make quick work of it. I’m still disgusted with myself after I come.

I drink the rest of the bottle and throw it against a wall. It shatters.

#tfota #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #cardan greenbriar #cardan #jude duarte #jurdan #judecardan #holly black #fanfic #smut #angst

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leftovercheesecake · 3 years

Text

The process of trying to build a replica of The Egg in one evening

CW - DSMP/MCYT, cult jokes, caps

I have no life, that much is obvious. My life revolves around Minecraft. I'm not very caught up on Dream SMP lore, but I always found the idea of the Eggpire pretty interesting from what I've seen! And so, the cult shit began.

PS - 1 CAN BE SKIPPED!!

Pre-egg. On this particular world, everything I've built is either in the mountain at spawn or underground (other stuff built by my friends is just dotted around the surface). The coordinates aren't exactly far down, but - including the inside of the mountain - there were eleven sections built before the Eggpire room. After the axolotl enclosure, I built a mushroom island-inspired area and a farm-type thing. Because of the animals not being in pens in these rooms (just fenced off from the axolotls) I didn't want to mine further through these rooms. So I built under the axolotl enclosure! The redstone that hid the trap door in there brought me pain! But, after half an hour, the redstone was completely finished, and I left to get a snack. When I came back, I started out on the End Ruin room, which I finished ANOTHER HALF AN HOUR LATER. Finally, after that, I started on the Egg room. It was something I came up with midway through making the End Ruins, and I was very excited to do it! However, I wanted to complete the ruins first :,) Not that it matters, but most of the music was just songs on repeat. It was mainly Voices (DERIVIKAT 🙏), Moral of the Story, Hit the Road Jack, Nuestra Canción, Beggin', The Bidding, Hell of a Ride and Mi Gente. A questionable combination, but good nonetheless

Mining out. I started by setting out my base. like I do with each section of the build. A big ol' stone sphere. It was quite tedious, considering I had no idea how big the egg would end up being. At the time, I wasn't even sure how I was going to build the egg! First it was a circular room - three blocks tall. Later, I stretched it out, and it's hard to explain, since my inability to speak English is embarrassing. I replaced every block with normal stone, even though I would end up changing most of the blocks later, because I HATE granite with a burning passion.

The Construction of the Egg. Damn. What a process. At first, I wanted to do it on my own with my own design. However, after an atrocious attempt, I decided against that. This is where my phone came in handy. I googled pictures of the Egg, and got some pretty low quality results. However, I worked with it. I started out with just netherrack, but later changed most of it to netherwart blocks and added netherbricks (normal and red), netherrack gold ore, shroomlights and two or three blocks of crying obsidian.

Infection. I started by replacing some of the stone with netherwart blocks and some of the stone on the floor with crimson nylium. I considered making small tendrils out of netherwart blocks, but after seeing it, I got rid of it. T'was not a look. I dotted around some normal netherrack and shroomlights.

Flora. This was weeping vines, crimson fungus and crimson roots. At the beginning, I just dotted fungus and roots around, but I wanted to give it a more overgrown look. Like people were struggling to keep it contained in this one room. So, it ended up being all over the nylium on the floor. Afterwards, I started planting weeping vines. I thought I should just let them grow and see how far they get, but I'm impatient so I just aggressively spammed RT. I made sure that the 3x3 entrance was completely covered in vines.

Extra details. After finishing the inside, I decorated the hallway. The End Ruins and the Eggpire are separated by a water elevator. On the ruins' side, there were endbricks dotted around. I decided to do the same thing with the Egg. I placed more crimson nylium around placed one or two roots. I added more weeping vines, but used string to make sure they stayed at the right length. I put a couple shroomlights, and made sure there was less and less lighting as you got closer to the egg for a more eerie look.

Inside the Egg. This was quite short, but actually a cool detail in my opinion! I used crimson wood signs and put down the sort of stuff you'd expect. I used the most culty phrases I could think of, like 'feed him' and 'let him in', etc etc. Kind of edgy, but I had fun coming up with them! I used purple dye on the signs and added glow squid ink.

Reaction! The first person I invited on after finishing it was my best friend Peggy. I showed her the entrance through the axolotl enclosure, and THANK GOD, SHE WENT DOWN FACING THE RIGHT WAY. She went into the End Ruins first, and added a couple things to that. After that, I took her to the Eggpire. She couldn't see through the 3x3 entrance, since I had covered it. I think she assumed it was going to be a crimson forest themed area, then I'd have a warped forest. She came in, and the interaction went a bit like this: Me: So... What do you think? Peggy: ... No- just no- Me: I told you it was cult shit! *chaotic giggling* Peggy: I DIDN'T EXPECT T H I S Me: I SHOWED YOU IT ON THE CALL EARLIER-

Thanks for reading! This was one of my longest and most enjoyable structures in the whole base, and it was really fun to make!

If you have any suggestions for anything else to add, please give me some! I'm running low on ideas- :,)

TYVM! :D

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creative-frequency · 4 years

Text

Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Reader: Bright Time

Word count: 2321 Pairing: Inquisitor Cal Kestis x Reader Notes: Thank you all for the support and the lovely messages I’ve been receiving concerning this fic. You guys are definitely what has kept me writing since I never would’ve thought anyone else would be interested in this Inquisitor AU. So, thank you ❤️ This is the third part of the series!

Previous Part

My Writing Masterlist

It’s been another tedious week in Fortress Inquisitorius. Each day has been filled with dull tasks, really making you work for what they pay you. In a sense, you’re glad that there is no shortage of work but still time has moved extremely slowly. You’re anxiously waiting for any sign or a message from a certain Inquisitor.

You haven’t heard of or seen Cal ever since the day you fixed the melted control panel of the door to his quarters. Just thinking about the incident makes your blood boil and the Inquisitor will certainly get what he deserves. Somehow, one day. The details are still a little unclear, but you’re determined.

In the tranquility of your own living accommodations, you can finally strip off the dark overalls and faintly ponder the fact that it’s the only outfit Cal has ever seen you in. The uniform isn’t exactly complementing. Though, he didn’t seem to mind on your last encounter.

You sigh and toss the clothes to where you’ll to pick them up again in the morning, which means in eight hours – a luxury, really, in the light of the recent week.

As you slump on the elevated mattress posing as bed, one of your most faithful engineering droids rolls into the room.

“What’s up, MK?” you ask without getting up to look. Your back muscles are crying a symphony at finally relaxing on a soft surface.

The droid makes an uppish beep and you roll your eyes. This one has a handful of a personality.

“If it’s that important, why didn’t you say anything earlier?” you question, full-well knowing the MK droid will be galled by your lack of interested in its business. It lets out a series of drills, which sound a lot like scoffs for a being that has no respiratory channels.

“A message?” You frown lightly and get up to your elbows. A bad feeling creeps into the back of your mind. “Let’s hear it.”

The MK droid boops coolly and plays the recording.

“Hey, uhh, I think there’s a busted light bulb in here? Can you come and fix it today? Thanks.”

You freeze, blinking and staring at the messenger. You only just got away from work and now he wants you to go over to the other side of the base and urgh.

That kriffing stupid Inquisitor.

Ten minutes later you’re dragging your feet, once again wearing the stupid overalls and carrying a small toolbox. Fixing a light bulb shouldn’t be a big deal. You’re as equally vexed about having to get up as you’re anxious about getting to see Cal.

There has been no shortage of subconscious reminders about the last incident in his quarters and the more you try not to think about it, the faster your heart beats. Getting worked up about having to go and do your job doesn’t really help but at least you feel better when you think about all the ways to tell the stupid Inquisitor off. How can he be one of the Empire’s finest if he can’t even fix a kriffing light.

That inconsiderate man-child and his stupid pecs. If he weren’t an Inquisitor, I swear I’d–

It’s so late that the hallways are mostly empty save for the guards that you greet with yawns and earn a few sympathetic nods in return. If Cal isn’t wearing a shirt this time, you’ll give him a good old slap across the cheek, to hell with the consequences.

That perv might actually like it if I hit him. Oh, for kriff’s sake–

By the time you reach the right door, you’re positively fuming.

“How many Inquisitors does it take to switch a light bulb? Oh, I don’t know? None, since they have nerf shit as brains and can’t even– oh, hi. Ahem.” You settle the most perfectly neutral look to your face and hope Cal didn’t catch you muttering to yourself.

He gives you a cursory glance from your head to toes. At least he is wearing a shirt, even though it’s a very snug one.

“Come in,” he says.

Cal’s timid smile and casual tone set your cheeks alight and heart fluttering.

You clear your throat. “…Thanks.”

The sound of the door closing surges you into a mild inner panic but you draw in a breath to hide it and put the toolbox to the floor. Cal stays skulking by the entrance as you look up to find the target, eager to be on your way before he can think of anything reckless like the last time.

“Which one was it?” you ask slowly, craning your neck. All the lights seem fine and staring at them is making you see stars.

“The one in the middle,” Cal says and nods towards the culprit.

The light is as bright as the others and your eyes are starting to water from looking at them. You turn to Cal – his smile is nothing like timid anymore. It’s downright impish.

You should’ve known it was a trap.

“What’s the meaning of this?” You try to hold back the exasperation in your tone but it’s difficult. “Cal?”

The Inquisitor holds the eye contact and shrugs. You’re about to open your mouth to give him an earful when a loud crack makes you jump and you turn just in time to see the bulb explode into millions of tiny pieces. The shards scatter all over the floor as you instinctively hold your arms up to cover your face from the shrapnel, but not a piece even touches you.

The energy that was pouring into keeping the light on, no longer has a proper outlet and the fuse blows with a loud pop. You’re standing in the middle of the now dark room with the idiot Inquisitor.

The emergency lights near the floor cast an eerie red light and you can just barely make out Cal’s silhouette. Your eyes will need a moment to adjust to the darkness.

“Happy now?” is what you eventually set into snapping out at him.

The fuse box is in the hallway, but to get to it you need to find a way past the Inquisitor.

“Did you plan this?” The bravery falters in your tone. You swallow.

“Not really,” Cal says but you don’t believe him. “Hold on. Don’t move.”

Light clatter of glass against the floor echoes all around you and while you don’t see what happens, you assume that Cal just cleaned up the mess he made.

“Right,” you sigh, gather the ripples of your anger, and start walking towards the exit in resolute steps. Cal doesn’t move a muscle as you march past him. You’re almost to the door, already heaving out a relieved breath but come to the realization that you’re no longer moving.

In fact, your feet are taking you backwards. You yelp in surprise and almost get knocked over when the back of your legs hits the sofa in the middle of the room. You take purchase from the furniture to stay on your feet. Your eyes are steadily becoming acclimated to the darkness and you can see Cal’s silhouette coming closer.

Your blood pressure will lead to an early retirement at this rate.

“You need to stop breaking stuff to get me here,” you whine, “I’ll give you my personal comm frequency.”

“That’s not very exciting,” Cal huffs amused. He is standing right in front of you. The scarce light reflects enough from his eyes to hint where you should be facing.

“Well, sorry for not living up to your standards,” you quip frustrated and barely manage to finish the sentence since Cal’s hand comes to rest on your neck. The careful touch makes you quiver and your heart beats a mile a minute.

The breeze from Cal’s shallow breaths hits your skin as he leans forward. You would be lying if you claimed you were not waiting for this. He is smiling when your lips touch and you sink to sit down on the sofa back.

At least the door lock is fixed now.

“I’ve been, mmh, thinking… about you,” you confess even though Cal tries to make sure you can’t waste your mouth on talking. His lips move down to your jaw with a thoughtful hum and start trailing down towards your neck. It’s difficult to stay still with your already precarious balance.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one,” Cal husks.

His hands come down to rest on your waist and before you can reply, your world revolves again with a yelp as your back softly hits the sofa cushions. Cal climbs over and lifts you up to straddle him. Faintly, you register that the sofa is really large and comfy, and this man is done playing around.

Cal’s lips find yours again, more demanding and eager. He starts unzipping your uniform and thrill shoots up your spine. A pleasant haze is starting to settle into your mind and you have to strive to keep your wits about you.

“I don’t suppose you have any more requests when the light is fixed?” you ask as you let Cal do his thing with your work overalls and pull down the part covering your upper body. You’re still wearing a tank top underneath it.

“Mm. I want a kitchen droid,” Cal replies and plants his lips onto your shoulder. Pushing your nose into his hair makes you giddy and you don’t at first realize what he said.

“Huh? A kitchen droid? Why?” you fumble to question.

“The meals in the commissary are horrible,” he simply says and continues peppering your exposed skin with kisses. You can’t argue with that point.

“Mm. I’ll see what I can do.”

You ease yourself better into Cal’s lap, perfectly accidentally grinding yourself against him – to which he responds with a grunt and furrowed brows. It’s music to your ears.

Cal stops and straightens up, hands still somewhere around your middle body, rudely interrupted from hiking your top up. Even in the dark, you can see the warning in his eyes and it sends your pulse flying.

“Look. Do you want me to hold back or not? ‘Cause I can’t if you–”

You grind yourself again against the growing hardness in his pants and cut him mid-sentence.

“Who said anything about holding back?” you purr in a bit too seductive tone.

You hide your devilish smile by taking the turn to kiss the side of Cal’s neck. He groans again and you can feel his body going slightly rigid underneath you. Serves him right to taste his own medicine. Stupid Inquisitor.

“Alright. You asked for it,” Cal coos gently. His grip on your waist tightens and he throws you to your back on the sofa.

“Oh!” you yelp but quickly regain your stance even though your positions have been reversed.

You kick your shoes off and wiggle down the overalls with Cal’s help. Gripping his shirt hem, you yank the piece of clothing up to get it off. If you’re going to do this, you deserve to get a glimpse at how well his training has paid off.

When you reach his pants and open the zipper for access, the fervent undressing slows down and molds into a make out session. This time horizontally, on the sofa, with the Inquisitor on top of you and your legs tangled with his – and hands in each other’s pants. It’s hot and messy and you can’t see a thing, but who needs eyes when his fingers dip inside you and it feels so good that you want to cry out loud. The hums and moans Cal makes against your mouth as you massage him drive you deeper into the moment. With each passing second you fight the regret about still having your underwear and top on.

You’re feeling so dizzy and elated that you’ve completely forgotten who you’re playing with. You’re in the den of an Imperial Inquisitor. The kind of who is not known for his mercy or empathy.

“You should stay for the night,” Cal utters suddenly.

In a motion so quick and nimble that you didn’t think you’d have it in you, you’re up and away from Cal’s arms, heart drumming in your ears and panicking. Every breathe is a drag and your hair must be in upheaval. Your underpants are uncomfortably damp and the room feels chilly when Cal’s body is no longer warming you.

“S-stay? You mean like… I, uh, wouldn’t want to impose… on your…” Your eyes skim the Inquisitor’s almost naked frame in the dark. “Hospitality.”

Cal straightens up but you bounce away from the reach.

“What? You’re not imposing. I’ll make you coffee in the morning,” he says slyly, clearly not understanding what is going through your head.

You almost give in. Your very soul hurts as you shake your head. If he wants you to risk life and limb and stay, he will have to do better than high-end coffee and what presumably would’ve been the beginnings of amazing sex.

You grab your overalls and almost fall onto your nose trying to put them on as swiftly as possibly.

No, this is bad. Worse than what you should get yourself into.

“So, uhh, sorry! I’ll fix the bulb tomorrow!” You snag your shoes, tugging them under your arm and take the toolbox from the floor. With a free hand, you fumble for the button to open the door before Cal can retaliate. What were you even thinking? People who get too involved with the Inquisitors disappear and you wish to keep existing.

“Wha– Hold on!”

“Nope. Bye!” You wave as you tiptoe into the hallway, praying that it’s empty. It’d be fun explaining to a Stormtrooper why you’re barely dressed behind the Inquisitor’s door.

Cal stays sitting on the sofa in the dark, looking after you, pants halfway down and utterly confused. He cannot comprehend what he did wrong.

Tagging (please lmk if you want to be tagged or not! I probably forgot someone cause I couldn’t find the list anymore OTL): @europhiacs @froyuhh @sinner-effy @droidrights @annoyedguildmaster @mysteriouswritingzonthewall @boxfullofcats @maulblr @sevansheart

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis #inquisitor cal kestis #inquisitor cal kestis x reader #jedi fallen order #swjfo #swjfo fanfiction #star wars #my writings #oc #ffxv oc

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