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#two ancient ones (one of which is slightly edited by now to be a little more detailed/up to date)
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Today I am thinking about weaving.
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I can knit and crochet, but those crafts didn't exist in Roman times. Any historically accurate Roman cloth must be woven. So when a little potholder loom jumped into my shopping basket for 50 cents, it felt like a sign I should learn.
One potholder that was 50% yarn and 50% weird gaps later, I looked up a tutorial, and realized why the damn thing was 50 cents. I needed a better, more adaptable loom. And, because I am a cheapskate and slightly loony, I decided to make one instead of buying it.
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So, how does this thing work?
First, you string the warp threads up and down, around the pegs. Here, I made a zigzag shape. Then, you use a needle or shuttle to weave more yarn over and under the warp, horizontally, back and forth. This produces woven fabric.
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Some looms weave from the top, some from the bottom. This Greek urn shows two weavers working from the top. The left weaver uses a rod to compact the woven fabric upward, keeping it even and sturdy. The right weaver is passing an oval-shaped shuttle through the warp threads to form another row.
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Most Roman looms would have looked like this, with the finished cloth at the top. Unlike my looms, these are warp-weighted. That means you keep the warp yarns taut by hanging weights at the bottom, rather than through a bottom row of pegs.
Warp-weighted looms also have a big advantage over my little potholder loom: you can easily create multiple sheds.
A "shed" is a temporary gap between lifted strands and non-lifted strands. Instead of having to go over and under each strand individually, you raise the entire shed, then pull the shuttle or needle straight through. This saves lots of time! Then, to weave the next row, you close the shed, lift up a different set of threads to create a new shed, and send the shuttle/needle through the other direction.
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On a warp-weighted loom, the sheds are opened by loops called heddles (H), which are attached to a heddle rod (G). When the rod is down, shed (1) is open (middle diagram). When you pull the rod up, shed (1) closes and shed (2) opens instead (right diagram). Most warp-weighted looms also have a pair of forks you can rest the heddle rod on, to free your hands.
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Here, there are three heddle rods and sets of forks, the heddles are white, and the warp thread is red. This gives you four different sheds, and the potential to weave very complex patterns indeed. Not bad for a device invented over 6500 years ago!
I liked the multiple heddle-rod design so much, I tried incorporating it into my DIY loom, too. I've tested both yarn and paperclips as heddles:
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I actually got both sheds and heddle-rods working, too. Which is pretty cool for a lap loom - every other lap loom I found only has one shed, so you have to go over-under the individual threads on alternate rows.* More time-consuming. However, the sheds here are narrow, and I'll need a smaller and smoother shuttle to pass through them smoothly. This wouldn't be an issue on a warp-weighted loom, where the warp hangs freely downward, and can move more flexibly with the heddles.
Anyway. I may get a "real" loom at some point, but I wanted to build one first, and I think it gave me more appreciation for just how resourceful ancient weavers were. They created technology, clothing, and artwork out of very basic materials, and civilization depended on these skills.
Now, I need to go finish the...whatever the hell it will be. Big thanks to Wikipedia and to the lovely Youtubers who make this craft easier to learn. I think it'll be a lot of fun.
(*Edit - found out a rotating heddle bar can make two sheds on a lap loom! Exciting!!)
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agroteraa · 3 months
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The Wrath of the Stag
Chapter one
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Oliver Quick x f!Reader
My fic masterlist
Part 3.1.
Part 1: Actaeon
Part 2: Artemis
Part 3.2: The Wrath of the Stag (ch.2)
Warnings: smut, voyeurism, masturbation, mentions of sex, almost?onesided!Felix.
Word Count: 4,3K
The summer went on. June and July were already more than happy months, but August gifted you with completely new feelings in your life.
Two weeks had passed since the events of the karaoke night. During this time, you and Oliver became even closer, but it was only known to the two of you. In public, you tried to behave the same way, but as soon as no one was around, Oliver stole a kiss from you every now and then, and this was just the beginning of the list. Winking at him while playing tennis, almost riding him in the library chair, flirting by the pool while no one was watching and caressing each other underwater, passionately making out on Saltburn garden benches late at nights, luring him into your bathroom while no one was nearby, holding hands in the dark in the "back row" in the cinema room while watching some TV or film all together. And endless glances at each other that lasted almost forever.
And not to mention all the hot, sleepless, though as silent as possible, summer nights that he gave you when he sneaked into your room. Of course, your rapprochement was seen a little more in public than before, but no one seemed to notice anything. Or say anything. Except Felix, who sometimes seemed to frown if you and Oliver talked about something for too long, forgetting about him.
This summer was like a thrilling fairy tale that was supposed to end beautifully with Oliver Quick's birthday.
While Elspeth and James were planning the party, the costumes, the guest list, you were thinking about what you could gift your dear one. During a trip with Venetia to the city for shopping and searching of an outfit for the upcoming event, you went to a local bookstore. Walking past the shelves and looking through the many options, you stopped at something that such a sophisticated and well-read person like Oliver would appreciate. A large thick dark green book about ancient Greek mythology in a gift edition, with gold lettering, on the cover there was Icarus falling away from the sun. His wings and sun were embossed in gold and were slightly voluminous. Excellent, you thought to yourself, running your fingers over the cover. That was it.
Returning to Saltburn after a trip on a hot day, you and Venetia decided to swim a little, and then take a rest and sunbathe near the windows of the house. Having spread out colorful blankets, both of you lay down on them in swimsuits, drank soda and lazily chatted about something of your own.
Oliver was smoking at the time, lying in his bathtub and enjoying the thought of how he would bask in attention on his birthday. How he would bathe in Y/N’s attention. After leaving the tub, he was waiting for water to drain and slowly walked over to the window. Oh. You were there, lying in a swimsuit. You were relatively far away, but he could perfectly imagine the droplets of water and sweat evaporating from your hot body. You turned over on the blanket, gracefully bending and swinging your legs, talking to Venetia.
Ooh. He had missed you so much already. He remembered how this body, which was now turning on the blanket, writhing under him last night. It was so beautiful. He began to feel aroused again. Oliver's hand reached down for the rapidly hardening cock. He was lazily puffing on a cigarette and looking at you from the window, stroking his manhood. It felt so good. He felt like a king in his domain right now.
"Hey, Ollie, I..." Felix entered the room without knocking, thinking that Oliver was in his room and not in the bathroom, "What the fuck?"
Quick took his hand away in fright and jumped a little away from the window, putting out his cigarette.
Felix went to the window and followed his gaze, "No, what the fuck? Are you wanking to my sister? Or… Y/N?!"
Oliver started to stutter, "Um...I..."
"No, I want to know that. It's creepy, man!" Felix insisted.
Not knowing which answer was the most or least acceptable to Felix, Oliver decided to say "both".
"Huh?" Felix was still confused, standing frozen for a moment. But then shook it off, laughing, "I get it, buddy, it seems someone has a complete lack of girls. Don't worry, we'll go back to Oxford, I'll help you get laid."
He jokingly hit Oliver in the shoulder, he shriveled a little, and nodded, pursing his lips, responding with a weak "yeah, great".
"I just came by to tell you that my mom has found you a birthday outfit and wants you to come up to her now. You should like it," Felix said, turning around and leaving the room, his face becoming gloomy and broody again.
* * *
Two days later, you were reading a copy of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by the pool, the weather was wonderful and you were enjoying the August sun. Felix came to the next lounger, wearing only swimming shorts.
"Hey, Y/N, can I join your sunbathing?"
You said yes, surprised that the owner of the house suddenly asked you for such permission. He sat down and looked at you, smiling. He was squinting slightly from the sun, the freckles on his face were beautifully scattered over his summer-tanned skin.
"Oh, you've almost finished the book... And I'm stuck in the middle, I still can't get through it, the chapters got tedious."
You laughed, "Well, yes, you've never been a big fan of books."
"It's true," Felix grinned and continued, hesitating, "Y/N, can we talk about something?"
"...yes?" you answered, surprised, putting the book on your lap and sitting up on your lounger.
"What are you... thinking about Oliver?" that question turned your stomach over. What did he mean, did he know something?
"Um, well, he's a good guy. And interesting one. Better than I thought of him when I saw him at Oxford. More precisely, I wasn’t thinking about him at all then, it's more correct to say so," you muttered nervously.
"So are you thinking now?.. Anyways, I don't know, Y/N, sometimes he seems a little strange to me."
"What exactly is it?"
"It doesn't matter," Felix frowned, "The important thing is that I don't really want you to get close. I can see that something is going to happen, between you too. I don't know. Intuition or something. You better not get too close to him."
Oh. It began to dawn on you, and a hot feeling of indignation rose to your throat.
"Listen. I remember Venetia saying that Felix doesn't like to share his toys, but Oliver is a living person with freedom of choice. However, if you don't like it so much that he started communicating more with me than with you, then okay, let's figure something out, but still..."
"No," Felix interrupted you, "It's not about him, it's about you. I don't want to share you. And no, not "share," for God's sake, what a stupid word. And I'm not even talking about the "toy", Venetia is not a five-year-old child..."
You were sitting on a lounger, completely frozen. No.
"...and still she talks about me like I don't want to share a toy train or something," he continued, "So, Y/N, I've been thinking a lot about you, seeing how happily and enthusiastically you are spending time with Oliver. And I thought... that I've also spent so much time hanging out him this summer and basically over the past year, and not only with him, while I could have spent more time with you. Sorry about that."
No, no, no, no. No.
Felix looked expressively at you, raising his eyebrows above his brown doe eyes, and then looked down, smiling warmly and a little shyly.
Your eyes started to fill up a little bit with tears. Felix Catton, what were you doing? Where were you three years ago, two years ago, and even almost a year ago?
That summer when your parents brought you to Saltburn flashed through your mind, you saw Felix for the first time since your almost childhood games. He grew up a lot, became very tall, his voice became deep and velvety, and the slightly angular teenage beauty finally turned into the impeccable beauty of a young man. You fell in love with him those days. But along with these changes, his personality also began to transform. He was still kind and sweet, but a slight harmless arrogance and childish mischief not so rarely began to manifest themselves as selfishness, whims and some kind of narcissism. He had reached an age when the girls' former teenage crushes had turned into insanity and a struggle for his attention. Felix began to bask in the countless girlish admiration.
It upset you, although you were still his friend, his girlfriend's status didn't seem to shine on you, no matter how much you or even your parents, especially your father, wanted it. But you never told Felix and he never knew. You gave hints, but he was so unobservant and self-absorbed that he didn't notice any of this. It also negated your feelings.
The last hope was the moment when you entered Oxford together. You thought this was the right time to get serious, think about your priorities and start learning to live on your own, but it seems that for Felix this was just an excuse to finally break away, disappearing at all the parties in the area, charming the entire campus, taking advantage of all the opportunities and all the girls that life provided him.
This all finally put an end to your last feelings for him, and you moved on, arranging your academic and personal life without his participation and hopes about it. You finally felt absolutely fine and calm, especially having Oliver in your life now.
And now he was telling you all this?
"It was a wonderful summer, I was so happy to spend it with you as much as I could. And I'm already looking forward to returning to Oxford in the autumn, where we could hang out more often."
He smiled shyly, looking into your eyes.
"What about... all the girls?" that's all you were able to say at this moment.
"To hell with the girls. I've been hanging out enough, what haven't I seen there? They're different every day, but they're all the same in the end. And you're the same every day, yet so… different."
At these words, goosebumps ran through your body, and you almost started crying.
"I'm... sorry, it's all kind of sudden. I do not know what to say..." you would have refused another person right away, but you were not able to refuse him here and now, whether it was because you did not have the recourses for this conversation, whether the remnants of old feelings for him woke up in you, or you did not want to offend him, you didn't know yourself. Also, it was not a direct proposal for date or something, after all.
Felix looked at you anxiously, fidgeting on his lounger.
"O-of course, I'm sorry. No pressure, I'm sorry, Y/N. You don't have to answer me right now, I just wanted to tell you how I'm feeling now, that's all."
You nodded and, throwing a towel over yourself and holding back tears, went into the house. Catton Jr. sadly watched you go with a puppy dog look.
* * *
Fortunately, this situation did not manifest itself in any way later. Felix had been acting almost as if nothing happened for several days, and just in case, you decided not to display any special joy when you were communicating with Oliver. What was gotten into him? Probably, after all, he was jealous of his friend for you, because he invited you both this summer, and instead of communicating primarily with the young owner of the house, you and Oliver began to hang out much more with each other. His old and faithful friend and his new friend, whom Felix was very interested in and wanted to help in some way. Yes, perhaps this was really not quite fair, you decided, and began to search for a balance in communicating with both of them.
However, the balance was maintained during the day, but at night the scales often tilted to one particular side. But that wasn't the kind of thing Felix or anyone in this house should know how and with whom did you spend your restless nights.
* * *
"Happy Birthday, Ollie!" you kissed the guy softly, gazing lovingly into his eyes. He looked back at you with adoration. "Ollie." He loved that name when you said it. You were sitting on his bed in his room, it was a beautiful sunny day, the light played on your faces and was especially brightly reflected in the azure eyes of a man who became a year older that day.
"Thank you, my dear Y/N," said the birthday boy, "What is it?"
"If you open it, you'll find out," biting your lip in anticipation, you teased him.
"Oh," he breathed, tearing up the gift wrap, "I do love the culture and history of Ancient Greece, especially its myths. That's fantastic, thanks, Y/N. Although you should know that this is not your most important gift to me."
"Then what is it?"
"You."
Oliver moved closer, covered your hand with his and kissed you gently. Then he took you in his arms, getting out of bed, and began to spin you in the air while you were laughing loudly. Dust motes in the air were spinning and dancing with you too, which were revealed now by your movements and by a bright light shining through the windows of the old manor. You both wanted this moment to last forever.
"And now excuse me, Y/N, I need to get ready – Felix has prepared some kind of surprise for me, we will be back in the evening. See you at the party! I'm looking forward to seeing you in your party dress," Quick winked at you.
* * *
"Felix, look, Felix, please, let me just explain…"
"I think the best thing is that you go home after your party… It is just weird… You’re fucking liar, Ollie! Why would you lie?"
He would tell him why. To attract Felix's fading attention. He wouldn't have seen the need to lie to you about it separately, but since it happened that way…
"Oh, Ollie, poor thing..." that was the first time you called him that when you heard his terrible story. The only time before Saltburn. Your watery eyes, raised eyebrows, worried look. You hugged him comfortingly. For the first and only time before Saltburn. At that moment, he realized that he was ready to come up with a hundred more lies so that you would look at him like that again, so that you would hug him like that again. It was worth it.
"I just wanted to be your friend."
"Look, let’s just get through tonight."
"Can you not tell your family, please? And... Y/N" Oliver looked at Felix pleadingly.
"Of course not. I don’t want her to be disappointed. Fucking hell! It is dark enough as it is!" he replied, retreating deeper into the house.
* * *
You didn't know when they returned, that Oliver went straight to his room, where, crying and screaming into the sheets all his pain, confusion and frustration, he spent the rest of the evening.
Well, now it was time to try on your roles.
You chose a Hermia costume from a Midsummer Night's Dream – a light mint-colored dress just below the knee, baring your shoulders, a crimson fabric passed through your body, which went behind your back and joined in the back area. You had sandals with small heels on your feet. Twirling around in front of the mirror, you left the room satisfied. You headed on to the party early hoping to talk to Oliver, but you met Felix in the hallway with a bottle of tequila in his hand. It seems he was already somewhat drunk.
"Y/N!" he said, "Ah, you look amazing."
Who would say – the guy himself was an angel in the flesh. Literally this time. Golden wings peeked out from behind his back and gave him a festive look, although the rest of his clothes was more than casual - a white tank top and blue jeans, he looked stunning nonetheless.
"Where are you going? The party is that way," Catton Jr. laughed.
"I wanted to find Oliver, I need to talk to him, I haven't seen him since this morning..."
"Listen, don't," Felix's face darkened, "Just don't, let's go have some fun."
"What do you mean..." you started, while Felix, gently putting his hand on your back, led you to the nearest patio bench. He lit a cigarette and began his speech, "Y/N, do you think some people can... keep an eye on others? And to behave strangely in general, not like... all other normal people... not like us."
You didn't understand what he was leading to. Felix slowly exhaled cigarette smoke and continued.
"Do you remember... that TV show, Big Brother? Farleigh got me hooked on it after all. And so, I thought after that, maybe we are also being watched ... sometimes more than we can imagine?"
"Felix, I really don't understand what you're talking about, just tell me directly."
"Don't communicate with Oliver. He's on his own weird mind and generally..."
"What? Felix, it's not funny, please don't talk about Oliver like that just because we started communicating with each other more than with you. And even more so if..."
Felix covered your hand with his and looked at you with a speaking gaze that clearly insisted on his position. You pulled your hand back.
"I like Oliver. He's a good guy."
"Oh my God, Y/N! He wanked at you with Venetia!" the combination of alcohol and cigarettes made the guy more emotional than usual.
"WHAT?"
"Yes, I saw it myself, as he stood in the bathroom, with a cigarette in one hand and his junk in the other. He was looking at you and Venetia when you were sunbathing under the windows, and he told me himself that he was staring and doing… it... at both of you. I just wanted to go in and tell him that mom was calling him to try on a suit..."
The story seemed both true and not to you, you froze, unable to realize it and even more so to believe it.
"I told him that he had a lack of girls in his life, and that we would fix it when we returned to Oxford. He kind of agreed."
Your lips were shaking, you were barely able to control your trembling and coming up tears. An image of Eddie popped into your head. A guy from last summer, another Felix's friend from Oxford, whom Felix invited to spend the summer in Saltburn. Everything was fine, and you were all chatting nicely, when suddenly they quarreled with Felix because Eddie slept with his sister. You didn't even know it was developing this way until it happened, and it was too late for everyone. And you even thought at one point that Eddie might like you. God, are you such a blind fool? All these events seemed painfully familiar to you right now, but you didn't want them to happen again for real. Not with him. Not with your Ollie.
"Tequila? " Felix suggested, and you silently grabbed the bottle, taking many big sips, "Hey, take it easy..."
Felix patted you on the shoulder, and then tucked a stray lock behind your ear, "Don't get upset about this weirdo, Y/N. He'll come and go, but you and I are here forever. Forget it."
He put his hand on yours again, looking at you with his gleaming brown eyes. But you were not up to it, you pulled your hand out for the second time and ran away with quick, sharp steps, taking the bottle of tequila with you.
At that moment, Farleigh sauntered up to Felix from the other side of the courtyard. He sat down next to him and lit a cigarette. "And I've told you that this Oliver is a little. Damn. Freak," he said, gesturing with the cig in his hand, "Have never been wrong about my antipathies."
Felix, not even particularly surprised that Farleigh had heard everything, only replied, "Yes, maybe you were right...", but he did not say about the main Oliver’s lie. Felix had promised. And he kept his promises. At least some of them.
* * *
You went to the party in the main hall, where people were already hanging out and music was playing. The bottle in your hands was almost empty and helped you not to cry this evening. Although perhaps your sadness was growing into more of an anger, because for the second hour straight you had been scrolling in your mind through the images of previous and this summer in your head. Eddie, Venetia… Oliver… Venetia… You also remembered how nice and quite lively he was with her, especially at first. You thought it was just a courtesy to the daughter of the owners of the house, but now you were very unsure about it. Moreover, you remembered how, somewhere in June, Farleigh hinted that he saw them together at night under the castle window, but there was no confirmation of this, and the situation was forgotten. Or maybe he was right all along? Oh, stupid you.
You walked through the crowd, smiled briefly and nodded to Lady Elspeth, who was dressed as Titania. A beautiful look, but you were not in the mood to approach and compliment her right now, even Sir James's knight costume, which completely did not match the fantasy outfit of his fairy queen, stopped making you smile. Taking a cocktail from the waiters, you stood against the wall, looking at the people sulkily. Venetia was dancing somewhere in the crowd. You wanted to approach her terribly, but you didn't know at all how or what to start a conversation with her. Everything seemed stupid and pointless.
Happiness
And loneliness
A familiar song started playing, the lines of which were now especially bitterly perceived by your clouded mind. Happiness... was it really there? There were so many questions running through your head. How dared he peep on you, on you and Venetia, and maybe not only, and what was he doing at the same time… You were furious and frustrated at the same time.
Happiness seems to be loneliness
And loneliness killed my world
How could you guess, when you're only thinking of yourself
And how you look to other girls?
The bass dropped, and the hall exploded with a powerful electronic bridge. At that moment, Oliver entered the room from the other end. He was wearing a dazzling white suit with beautiful oak leaf embroidery, the jacket barely concealed his bare torso, as he was shirtless. He had antlers on his head.
He walked deeper into the room with a slow, confident gait, as if he was looking for someone. Purple, pink and blue lights from the spotlight danced on his face, and he himself was periodically disappeared in the rays of the strobe light as he pierced through the crowd.
Happiness seems to be loneliness
And loneliness killed my world
How could you guess, when you're only thinking of yourself
And how you look to other girls?
Yes, he was looking for you. Your legs almost carried you to him on their own. But you didn't want to come over. You just decided to stand against the wall, watching what happens next. And you shouldn't decide to do that, because he found some girl in the crowd, bent down and whispered something in her ear. They began to dance slightly to the rhythm of the song. Something moved inside you. But you were already drunk enough to, instead of frustration, angrily come up to the waiter near the "lovebirds" and defiantly start drinking two shots in a row right there.
Oliver, seeing you, exclaimed "Y/N!", immediately recoiling from this girl.
"Oh, you noticed me! Must have been looking for me for a long time?" you remarked venomously.
"Sorry, I wasn't looking for you right now."
Your heart sank into your heels.
"Then who is it?"
"It doesn't matter. We'll talk later, please," Oliver said gloomily, looking you up and down, but saying nothing more.
He went on into the crowd, and you remained standing, deafened by the sounds of screaming music about happiness and loneliness. Soon enough, you saw that Oliver had found Venetia, and she hugged him while he started talking in her ear. She shrugged cheerfully, throwing her arms over his shoulders, and began swinging her hips next to him. Your heart was almost broken. You drank another shot, grabbed from the waiter's tray, and headed in the other direction, noticing that Felix had entered the hall.
"Y/N, how are you? I hope you're having fun. Oh..." the guy exclaimed joyfully, realizing that you were taking his hand and leading him through the crowd to the exit. The crowd did not end both inside and outside the manor – everything was filled with people shouting, dancing, drinking and kissing to loud music. You were drunk too and didn't even fully understand what you wanted to do, but you knew for sure that you needed to go to a place where there would be silence and no one around.
And so you had reached the maze.
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hazyange1s · 2 months
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1901 (Sebastian Sallow x F!MC)
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so. I generated the middle photo with midjourney months ago and people on tiktok seemed to like it 😂 probably because we are desperately in need of some happy endings….
which brought my aching little heart to write a painfully self-indulgent one-shot based off of said picture (ft. my two brainchildren). this is from October and I’m cringing; I feel like I’ve improved a bit since but we’re here for vibes so who cares.
Synopsis: the year is 1901, and after a lifetime of dealing with the turmoil he became so accustomed to, Sebastian has finally gotten everything he could ever want. a night with his wife and best friends reminds him exactly how lucky he is.
Warnings: slightly suggestive reference (but still keepin it SFW), dad!Seb and Ominis, tooth-rotting fluff, aged up characters, alcohol use, pregnancy, not edited just raw word vomit
The stone and wood that made up Hogsmeade had hardly weathered since the first year Sebastian could remember coming, when he was a sprightly six year old boy with his parents. Back then, the buildings had looked larger than life. The people seemed wonderful and strange and extraordinary; their wands aloft to float signs or move merchandise. He had tugged on the folds of his mother's skirt upon staring with rapt attention, whining, "Mummy! When do *I* get to make things fly?"
"Soon, sweetling." His mother had smiled, the most beautiful sight he could comprehend at that tender age. "Soon, you yourself could be flying above the clouds."
Now, Sebastian found himself doing just that.
Cold wood bit into the callouses of his palms, which gripped the handle of his broom securely as the biting October wind tousled his dark hair into knots. He might have already frozen solid where he sat, had it not been the warming charm on his coat and the heat of his wife's smaller body pressed up against his back.
She shouted something just then amidst the roar of the wind in his ears. Sebastian turned for a split second to get a glimpse of the wide grin on her flushed, freckled cheeks.
The most beautiful sight in the world to him now.
"What?" He chuckled, turning back around as they neared the stone path leading into the quaint village.
"I said; they're going to have our heads for being late, so you better take full responsibility." Raegan repeated with her lips grazing Sebastian's ear.
Another laugh was dragged from his dry throat. Raegan had a special ability that when beyond just her fire-wielding, ancient magic, and skills on a broom. She was also one of the only people in the world who could make him laugh without really trying.
"I don't suppose you want me to tell them WHY?" Sebastian replied wryly as they landed and climbed stiffly off of the broom. The feeling of solid ground beneath their feet was a certainly a relief after miles of dark skies above the Highlands.
Raegan gave him a taunting little smirk that he'd come to understand was one she reserved especially for her husband. "Doubt you'll have to. It's hard to hide anything from those two. Ominis will probably sniff us out the moment we enter the pub."
She smoothed down the wild, russet tangle of waves Sebastian had run his hands through just an hour ago as they walked hand in hand over the bridge. He smiled at the memory as if he could still feel the softness of each lock between his fingers.
"I have considered the theory that he's part bloodhound."
The pair came to the familiar, flickering facade of the Three Broomsticks, pausing just outside when Sebastian tugged on Raegan’s hand to bring her to a stop beside him (a feat in itself, really).
“You know…” he mused, eyes crinkling at her questioning look. “Technically, we had our first date here.”
“If you call nearly getting…what were the words you used? Pulverized by a troll a romantic outing.” She laughed.
“Don’t forget the bar fight you nearly got me into. Honestly, it’s a wonder I managed to stick around for so long, with all the trouble you bring.”
The words were made in obvious jest and followed by an affectionate press of his winter-chapped lips to her temple. Because they both knew damn well that trouble was Sebastian’s middle name (it could replace Alexander for all he cared), and that chaotic whirlwind of a fifth year when they’d met was precisely what had him falling head over heels for her in record time.
“Well, as much as I love a good troll fight…the only thing you have to be scared of tonight is Ominis.”
A half-hearted scoff had Sebastian’s breath clouding in the air. “I wasn’t scared.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t wet yourself.”
“I was not scared!”
Raegan grinned indulgently at her husband, who rolled his eyes at the all-too-familiar teasing. Still, Sebastian found himself imitating her expression as he pulled her flush against his side and leaned down to fit his mouth to hers.
How many times had he enjoyed the saccharine taste that clung to every bit of her skin? It was far, far too many to count, surely, and the proof was in the way their lips moulded together like two pieces of a well-loved puzzle.
A rush of warmth hit their wind-chapped skin once the couple had finally broken apart, Sebastian opening the door for his distinctly kiss-drunk wife.
The Three Broomsticks was just as he remembered, too. Sirona, ever the dedicated businesswoman, spotted them instantly and offered a friendly wave. That was almost certainly Mr. Pippin and Mr. Hill chatting jovially over pints, and that blasted portrait of Ferdinand Pratt that had somehow withstood the ire of the patrons.
Raegan breathed the smallest of fires into her cupped hands before rubbing them together to generate more heat. It was not needed, though; for their friends had clearly planned ahead and already snagged the table just adjacent to the roaring hearth in the back center of the first floor.
Ominis's corn silk hair seemed to reflect its golden light, acting as a beacon for the Gyrffindor and Slytherin alumni to meander their way through the crowd and plop down eagerly at the round mahogany table.
"I was just about to send a Patronus if you hadn't shown up in the next five minutes." Diana gave them both an exasperated look, her brows shooting up as she took in their disheveled appearances. "Did you fly here?"
"Of course we did. It's a gorgeous night." Raegan leaned in to give her lifelong friend (sister might have been a more accurate term) a hug, despite the smaller girl's grumbling.
Ominis, who had his arm slung casually against the back of his wife’s chair, shook his head at Sebastian and Raegan like a disappointed father. It was a gesture so familiar to them both that it had been permanently seared in the back of their minds.
"Well, while you two were wasting time doing god knows what and flying fifty miles instead of Apparating like reasonable people, we've already been through half a flagon of wine." Ominis held up his half-full goblet as evidence.
The Hogwarts Professor was usually not one to indulge so heavily, but with the start of a new school year keeping him busy and his youngest daughter clinging to the chaos of her terrible twos, Sebastian supposed he had more than enough reason tonight.
"Well, you know me. I'll catch up in no time." Sebastian said with a roguish grin as he poured the rich, sweet-smelling liquid into a goblet that had clearly been waiting patiently for him.
Ominis, ever the gentleman, waved his wand to take serve Raegan from the flagon next, its contents tipping into a fourth cup.
"Oh, er...none for me, Ominis; thank you." Raegan said politely, the flush from the cold now returning for an entirely different reason.
His eyebrows furrowed into a mask of disbelief, as though the very fabric of the world had suddenly been torn open. "Are you ill? Or has someone taken Polyjuice Potion and replaced your wife, Sebastian?"
Raegan couldn't help but pair her laugh with an eye roll at Ominis's over dramatic display of surprise over her refusal to drink. Though she supposed it was true, there were very few times in her life she'd turned down a casual drink.
"Oh my-"
Diana's soft gasp broke the suspenseful silence, her pale, delicate fists causing ripples in their goblets as they collided with the table's surface. "I knew it! I told you that dream was a vision, Ominis!"
Now it was Raegan and Sebastian's turn to look confused, their shifting eyes replacing the self-indulgent grins they'd donned long before they'd arrived in the village.
"What dream?" Raegan asked, grabbing her friend's hand to recapture the raven-haired Seer's attention. "What did you see?"
Sebastian could see the tension in her grip, the light reflected by the fireplace that shone in her brilliant amber eyes. She had been dying to share this news; and if he knew her at all, Raegan was nearly bursting to deliver it herself before Diana could answer.
But it appeared her curiosity had won out over her flair for the dramatics at the present moment.
Diana beamed when she met Raegan’s imploring stare. Her voice had lowered, as if sharing an important secret.
"Last week, I dreamt of a little girl. She had the most beautiful auburn hair. Plus these adorable freckles and big, brown eyes. She was playing outside your house with a boy who looked exactly like Samuel, if he were ten years older."
Sebastian and Raegan both sported round, awestruck eyes that flickered to each other before they returned to Diana.
"Wait, I'm having a girl?" Raegan squealed, getting miles ahead of herself while Sebastian put the pieces of the puzzle together in her head.
"It's a girl?!" He gaped at the same moment.
Now, his other two friends were forgotten; his gaze solely on his exuberant wife, tears brimming despite himself.
A girl. It seemed all too perfect. A daughter and a son. Just like him and Anne, and Raegan and her brother Ronan.
"Oh...sur...prise?" Diana smiled sheepishly. "So, are you going to say it, or not?"
"It seems pointless now, since you’ve stolen my spotlight," Raegan raised her brow playfully in the beautiful Seer's direction. "But yes...I'm pregnant!"
Ominis's face broke into a huge smile, its brilliance so rare the honor was rarely bestowed upon anyone , save for the three people seated at the table now.
"Congratulations, Raegan. And you, Sebastian."
Diana began to gush as she hopped up from her seat, throwing her arms around her best friend once more. "This is amazing! How far along are you? Do you have any names picked out yet? How's your morning sickness? Mine was positively awful with both of the girls, I couldn't-"
Ominis chuckled affectionately at her elation. Gently, he placed a guiding hand on her arm to bring her back down to Earth - which was usually her least favorite place to be. "Darling, you're doing it again. Let her breathe for a moment."
To her credit, Diana looked positively pink as she relented and settled back down in her chair without losing her grin.
"Sorry, Rae. I'm just...so happy for you two."
"To answer your questions as my poor wife gathers herself, Di," Sebastian echoed Ominis's affectionate sound with his fingers intertwining through Raegan's. "She's seven weeks along, which is why we weren't sure about telling you just yet. But i suppose now is as good a time as any. And, for names, we were thinking-"
"Kassady Anne." Raegan jumped in for him, squeezing his hand as if she could pour all the love she had into that one gesture.
Diana almost teared up at this revelation, as Ominis let out an uncharacteristic, "aww". The namesakes of Raegan's late mother and Sebastian's only sister. It hadn't been a very difficult decision to come to. Though Sebastian had tried to insist on Anne as the first name in their hypothetical discussions.
"Fair warning," Ominis broke in, a knowing grin stretching his pale face. "Your second child will be your undoing. Little menace; our Gwen."
"Hey, I'm a second child." Raegan retorted, though her offense was clearly falsified. Nothing could break through the bubble of pure joy that seemed to radiate from her like the rays of the sun.
"I think you're proving his point, my love." Sebastian smirked. He barely dodged the well-aimed elbow to his side with a soft sound of indignation.
Ominis raised his glass once more after happily listening to the familiar sounds of his friends' excited chatter. "To Helen, Gwen, Sam, and Kassady-may they leave their own remarkable legacy on the world under our expert guidance."
The four of them all laughed, the sound like a chorus of church bells signifying the end of a long, fulfilling day. Three glasses of wine and one filled with water were raised in celebration, connecting the circle of lifelong friends with a resounding clink.
It had been over ten years since they'd all first sat in this pub together. Back then, the topics of conversation had centered around the goblin rebellion, Professor Black's latest warpath, and the homework that had led to countless sleepless nights.
In a way, things hadn't changed all that much. Except the rebellions now came in the form of arrests made by Raegan at the Auror's office or the tantrums of Ominis and Diana's three year old daughter. War was still in the backs of their minds, but for the most part their arms had been laid down in favor of peace.
And the sleepless nights, well...
Sebastian's mind again wandered back to the blissful visit of his youth. How he'd been unsatisfied with his feet on the ground, longing to soar above the rest.
Now, he got to feel like that every day of his life. No broom required.
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thefrogdalorian · 3 months
Text
The Best of Both Worlds - Chapter Eight
Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU
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❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁
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Word Count: 11438 Rating: General Summary: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date... Content Warnings: Smooching 👀, alcohol consumption. Author's Note: I was going to post this on Friday but just didn't really feel right after the news, but I'm very happy to finally share this one with you! Big chapter for our dear reader and Din's story together as their relationship to each other reaches a new stage. Next chapter is equally important and she also earns a nickname from Din which is very cute 🥺! Can't wait to finish editing and share that one, too! Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks again to @suresnips for being my beta. Your feedback is always so helpful and appreciated ♡
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7. Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]
Usually, when a new season of The Mandalorian began filming, Din would feel thoroughly invigorated by the process. Donning his precious beskar’gam and using the expertise he had accumulated through all of his training in the ancient Way to perform stunts helped him feel in touch with his roots. It helped Din to feel connected to the people who had taken him in when he was a destitute orphan, found wandering the streets. Yet, the beginning of filming for the third season had not brought such emotions forth within Din. Instead, he felt rather drained by the entire process. 
As he sat there in the back of the car that ferried him the short distance to and from the studios daily. Din was grateful that it was almost the end of the week for his patience was running thin. The shoot for the first episode of the third season of The Mandalorian was drawing to a close, ending in a climactic final act with plenty of fight scenes for Mando. Fortunately, since the day at the zoo, he had felt slightly more settled mentally than he had on the day when he was constantly missing his cues and was sent for an early lunch. The clarity the conversation by the penguin enclosure had brought had calmed his mind, and now he knew with certainty that nothing was standing in his way from attempting to claim your heart. 
Despite how well the shoot was going for the most part, there was a certain curly-haired co-star who seemed determined to get on Din’s last nerve. The constant questions and teasing from Peli about how the flowers had been received and the outing to the zoo had been amusing at first, but now they were beginning to irritate Din. Although he cared for Peli a great deal and was always grateful for how much she cared about him and Grogu, sometimes she could grate on Din’s nerves. The talkative, eccentric woman was someone Din knew that he could always turn to for advice, yet he also found that sometimes she could be a little overbearing and eager to give her advice in situations where it wasn’t even necessary. 
Din could not wait for tomorrow evening when he had arranged what he thought was the perfect proper first date. Finally, the two of you would be able to spend time together, no work, no zoos, and no toddlers. He wished that time would speed up so that Friday evening would roll around and he would finally be able to be in your presence again. Although there were not too many miles that separated you from each other and despite having exchanged phone numbers, things had been too hectic to take advantage of that fact. To Din, you could have been on the other side of the world entirely rather than only a few minutes drive away.
It wasn’t that Din didn’t want to text; he did, more than anything. But doing so was a risk. What if you asked a question that he could not easily answer? Din knew that it would be incredibly difficult to continue small talk via text, given the gravity of the secret that he was keeping. How could he possibly say he was just about to beat up an entire platoon of Praetorian Guards if you asked what he was doing at work? No, he had to be tactful about how he handled this part of his life. Din would never outright lie to you, but he knew he had to obscure the truth from you. It was a line, however, that he was struggling to tread. The guilt had been eating him up inside, but Din knew this was for the best. He had to protect himself. Din hoped you would not take his lack of frequent texts as rudeness, or a sign that he was not keen on you. In reality, it was entirely the opposite. 
With all the physical fight scenes that were present in the season finale, Din needed to be focused and on the top of his game. Despite the clarity that your outing to the zoo had brought, focusing on a fictional fight scene was complicated given the numerous complex emotions he was currently dealing with. For one, he had not been able to stop thinking about the time the two of you had spent together at the zoo the previous weekend. Since he had met you, Din was experiencing feelings that he had been convinced that he would never feel again. Not after Omera, the woman that Din had come so close to allowing himself to fall for before he realised that their ways of life would ultimately prove incompatible. 
Din still found that his mind occasionally drifted back there, to Sorgan, the idyllic village where he had laid low for a couple of months with work. Memories of the beautiful woman, with her long black hair and kind brown eyes, flickered through his mind. Din thought fondly of her, of how diligently she had taken care of him for the short time their paths crossed when his work liaising with law enforcement to root out organised crime gangs had taken him to Sorgan. Coincidentally, it was during that very same job that Din had encountered Grogu. Indeed, the boy had only been in Din’s care for a matter of days when he had been tasked to gather intelligence in that picturesque farming village where he had come so close to leaving his nomadic lifestyle behind and finally putting down roots. He had agonised for the first few months over whether his decision to leave had been the right one. Although it had hurt greatly at the time, now with time separating him from Omera and Sorgan, Din knew that his decision to leave unquestionably was the correct one. Especially when the call with the offer of the role of The Mandalorian came through only a few weeks later. 
Since Omera, Din had lived such a solitary life that he had almost forgotten how incredible it felt to enjoy someone’s presence as much as he enjoyed the evening at the museum and the day at the zoo with you. Din knew that deep down, complete solitude was not entirely what he wanted for his life. But it was just how things had turned out, he had made his peace with that. Until you came along.
Before then, Din had been pretty content to isolate himself. It had just been him and Grogu in the peaceful cottage that he had just returned to after the long day’s filming, Grogu already asleep in his arms. Although Din usually relished the quiet evenings with his son, he was quietly glad that filming had overrun and Grogu had fallen asleep as soon as his tiny frame had been secured in the car seat. There would be no dinner and bath time tonight; instead Din carried his sleeping son upstairs, grateful that Iggy had already changed him into his pyjamas once the filming had looked likely to overrun so Din did not have to disturb him. Din placed Grogu gently under the covers, tucking him in and leaning down to press a soft kiss on his forehead.
“Goodnight, Grogu,” Din whispered into the silent baby monitor before he grabbed the baby monitor and made his way downstairs. 
With Grogu asleep, Din was struck by the stillness of the cottage. It was dark and soundless. Usually, Din savoured his downtime, the moments he spent alone, away from others. Yet, for the first time since he had moved here, Din began to contemplate another’s presence here. He wondered how it would feel to have you here, in his orbit… in his home. How well you would fit in amongst the stunning scenery, with your beauty. Evening walks with Grogu, returning to the cottage where the two of you would bathe him before you cooked and ate a meal together at the polished wooden dining table. Then you’d cuddle on the couch together, Din holding you tightly in his arms and nuzzling into your hair.
Din shook his head and moved into the kitchen to prepare some food, almost disgusted with himself for how carried away he had just gotten, his imagination running wild. Such a thing could never happen, at least not until Din was more certain that he could trust you with his secret. For his cottage, with all of its proximity to the studios, was certain to provoke a line of questioning from you that he would be unsure that he could answer without breaking his vow of honesty to you. 
Truthfully, the depth of his emotions had terrified him. Intimacy like this, actually wanting to be in the presence of another was a new sensation for Din. After so long spent in solitude, it was going to take some getting used to. Din had been alone for so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt to feel like this.
Din had partly kept to himself because he viewed his life as much too complicated to allow someone else into, feeling that it was unfair to involve someone else with how unpredictable and nomadic his lifestyle was. There was also Grogu to consider, especially with the attention and stability that the little boy required taking absolute precedence. Yet, deep down, Din knew that he was terrified of getting close enough to someone in case the day ever came when he lost them. Losing his parents at such a young age left scars deep within Din that he was struggling to overcome even so many years later.
Of course, Grogu had begun to slowly but surely break down the emotional walls that Din had erected around himself. Until he had found the little boy in the attic on that fateful day, Din had not realised his capacity for love. Now, though, another presence in Din’s life was beginning to chip away at those walls with all of the light and warmth you had brought to his life. 
Din was attracted to the way you looked. But to him, your beauty went far further than merely skin deep. He found himself more able to relax in your presence in a way that he had not around others for a long time. Despite how much he knew you loved the show – after all, it was the reason he had crossed paths with you in the first place – somehow, it was easy to forget the burden of his secret in your presence. Din was so mesmerised by your intellect and how good you were with Grogu, how patient and kind you were to the little boy despite his nervousness and emotional outbursts. Anyone whom Din Djarin was going to fall for had to care for Grogu, too. 
All feelings of awkwardness that Din had felt over bringing Grogu with him to meet you at the zoo had dissipated the second that he had seen you. Din had been fearful of the way that his son’s presence might be misconstrued as a lack of interest or viewing the outing as purely platonic. But you had not had that reaction at all. It had been the complete opposite, you had welcomed Grogu’s presence and been so attentive when the little boy had shown signs of being upset in the frog exhibit. The kindness that you had extended to Grogu in the museum had continued even when you were not being paid to show it, something that had relieved Din immensely. 
Seeing you interact with Grogu had awakened something inside of Din, he was feeling strong emotions that he was not sure he had ever experienced at this intensity before. Time spent with you strengthened Din’s instinct that somehow, he just knew that you were right for him and the way you were seamlessly slotting into his life with Grogu was surely proof of that. Din had not spent much time with you but already he knew that the bond with you was something special, something that he had been searching for for a long time. With you, he felt like he finally had found a part of him that he had not even realised he was missing.
That realisation of how quickly you had become so important to him both scared him and excited him in equal measure. Din had to keep reminding himself that he had to maintain some distance and not let you in completely until he had told you the truth.  Yet, it was just too easy to let his guard down around you. Although he feared the repercussions of his secret being revealed, never seeing you again was simply not an option. That was why he had enlisted Fennec’s help to plan what he hoped would be an ideal first date. 
Given the circumstances behind what was – to your knowledge, at least – the first time Din had crossed paths with you, he figured that there was no point attempting to hide the benefits that his job came with. It would have been a pointless endeavour, considering that you knew his bosses had the financial capability to allow them to rent out the British Museum for just him and Grogu. So, rather than shying away from that fact, Din exploited that benefit to organise a date that he was sure would go down a treat and allow you to look at your favourite painting without the mindless tourists that you so hated. 
Din knew that with the date he had planned, he was opening himself up to conversations about how it was possible. But it was a risk he was willing to take. Besides, if you ever alluded to his work Din, planned to say that he had signed NDAs – which was not a lie. It was an easy way to get around any hypothetical questions. Not that you had ever really questioned him on text this week, even when Din had told you he had a busy, draining day at work. Your replies had just voiced concern and hope that he would have some time to relax, rather than pushing for details. Din was relieved that you seemed perfectly content to be in the dark about specific details about his job. Though Din thought that you perhaps would not be so laid back if you knew exactly what it entailed. No, he was sure that you would suddenly have boundless intrigue about what it was like to be The Mandalorian. 
Your easy-going nature meant that Din had felt even less troubled about leaning into the privileges that came with his mysterious line of work. So he had enlisted the help of Fennec to arrange something he was certain would mean an awful lot to you. Organising such a date had even been worth the playful ribbing from Jim that Din had received when the two had passed in the corridor. Din was grateful that his helmet had hidden the blush that swept over his features when Jim had remarked: “It must be someone special, first the flowers and now this.” Jim was right of course, the person Din was seeing was very special.
Thoughts of how the date would go raced through Din’s mind that night as he lay in bed. He was excited to see how you would react to what he had planned for your evening. But he was also anxious to see your reaction when he revealed what he had planned for your date. Above all, Din was hopeful that the spark that had been evident in your encounters so far would continue when it was just the two of you. Din’s mind took longer than usual to switch off, but fortunately, it was not an issue as he was not required on set the following day. The late night of filming meant that the morning session had been postponed until the following week and Din was not required on set in the afternoon anyway, so effectively he had a three-day weekend to enjoy.
Din was thankful that the scenes to be filmed in the afternoon did not include him. It was a sign that the show was widening in scope, focusing on a story bigger than just Din’s journey as a lone bounty hunter making his way through the galaxy, as the show had once been. For the first few episodes, Din hardly spoke. It was something that the heads of the studio had been nervous about, wondering whether the audience would form an attachment to a nameless, faceless character who hardly uttered a word. Din was pleased that Mando had proved them all wrong, with the almost universal praise and acclaim that the season had received. He had been relieved too, at how much praise his performance in particular had garnered. Not that Din had sought it out, but Jim and Dale had sent him a selection of glowing reviews to reassure Din. Their gamble and trust in an unknown, entirely inexperienced actor who wanted to remain anonymous had more than paid off. 
Now though, the scope of The Mandalorian’s third season had hugely increased and other characters had been introduced. They were mainly fellow Mandalorians that Mando was both allied to and sceptical of. Bizarrely, it mirrored reality for Din as the casting choices had initially irritated him and he had been suspicious of the newcomers. Unlike the casting for the main character, the studio had not elected to cast real Mandalorians, citing budget concerns. Jim and Dale had been equally disappointed, insisting that they had lobbied for real Mandalorians to be cast. But they were so rare, expensive and tricky to negotiate with that in the end, cost had won out.
Their apologies did not stop Din from being any less disgusted that the people walking around on set were pretenders, merely fitted in their beskar’gam by the costume department without any understanding of how sacred each piece of armour was. How centuries of Mandalorians had fought and died to preserve armour such as the ones they were wearing. 
Din was silently enraged by the knowledge that these people were just viewing their beskar’gam as a costume, something that could be taken on and off, without any true understanding of the deeper sacrifice and meaning of being a Mandalorian. Din had sought a lot of counsel from the golden-haired woman who led his tribe. She had been dismayed by it too, but reminded Din that he was doing nothing wrong. It was an unfortunate pitfall of working with such a corporation, which had shown little respect for various cultures throughout its history. It was the latest in a long list of such behaviour, and Din should not have been too surprised. 
It was all contributing to the sense of unease that he had felt on set during the first two weeks of feeling. Somehow, things felt much different than the first two seasons. It did not help that there was pressure to surpass their immense popularity, either. Din always feared that sooner or later, the bubble would burst, and people would realise that he was not good enough to be The Mandalorian.
For now, those thoughts were far away from Din’s mind as he tried to get his body to sleep. He focused on thoughts of you, the way you looked at him and how warm your body had felt, pressed up against his as the two of you sat next to each other eating ice creams on the bench outside the London Zoo. Din was only hours away from seeing you again, a prospect that excited and terrified him in equal measure. So many questions that would be answered the following day. But, now, it was time to rest…
✯ ✯ ✯
It was fortunate that Din was not required on set, as it was not even six a.m. when Grogu’s cries on the baby monitor roused Din from the peaceful slumber that he had eventually fallen into. He did not grumble or complain, just swung his long, muscular legs out of bed and made his way into his son’s bedroom next door. 
“Morning, pal,” Din rasped, reaching down to scoop Grogu out of his bed. “You hungry?” Din asked and was relieved when Grogu furiously nodded. Mercifully, it did not appear to be one of those days where it was difficult to discern Grogu’s immediate needs. “Okay, buddy. Let’s go get you something to eat, I know it was a late night of filming yesterday and you didn’t eat on time.”
With Grogu seated in his high chair, chubby hands happily clutching a serving of his favourite animal crackers, Din took his phone out and debated sending you a text. He knew that you would probably be waking up for work soon, not too many miles away. Din found himself wondering whether he was being utterly ridiculous for pining over you this much so soon after meeting, but then he remembered how his heart sang whenever you were near. With that thought, his thumbs moved to type the text.
Hope you have a good day at work. Remember, Trafalgar Square at 8:30! Can’t wait to see you.
Din read it several times, hoping it didn’t sound too patronising with his comment about enjoying work, especially when his job was nothing like yours. When he was finally satisfied with the text, Din sent it and took a deep breath. Even texting you felt like an event; Din wasn’t sure how he would survive time with just the two of you alone.
Din had already told you of the meeting place a few days before, once the details had been confirmed by Fennec, but an insecure part of him fretted that you had somehow forgotten, or made other plans and would not be there waiting for him. Meeting at Trafalgar Square was hopefully mysterious enough to throw you off the scent, even though the building Din would be taking you to was right there, overlooking the bustling square. Din was anxiously awaiting your reply; mercifully, a certain little boy provided the perfect distraction. Grogu was finished with his animal crackers and was furiously pointing in the direction of the garden, indicating that he wanted to go outside to play.
Din was only too happy to oblige, hoping that a few minutes of running around and playing on the climbing frame by the fire pit, right next to the little outbuilding which housed the gym would tire Grogu out sufficiently that the little boy would want another nap and Din could get some more rest. Instead, after running around, it almost seemed that Grogu had even more energy. So Din took him inside to the small room on the ground floor of the cottage that was essentially Grogu’s playroom. Din dug out some colouring books and the two set about spending the rest of their morning colouring in, a favoured bonding activity that Grogu always seemed to be in the mood for. Din could sense that his son possessed a great deal of talent. For exactly what, he wasn’t sure. But he hoped that Grogu would find it. Until then, Din was determined to nurture his artistic side. 
While Grogu was particularly focused on colouring in a mountainous landscape, Din’s phone chimed and he almost fell off his chair in surprise. A morning of running around after his son had rather taken Din’s mind off the earlier text he had sent, but when a reply from you appeared on his lockscreen, Din suddenly felt lighter.
Thank you! Just arrived at work, I have to show some kids around for a tour. Hopefully they’re as well behaved as Grogu. I’m really excited to see you too :)
Reading your words made Din’s stomach flip. The way you had even referenced Grogu caused an ecstatic grin to spread across his face, he squeezed his eyes shut in glee. Din shook his head and returned his phone to his pocket, wondering what he had ever done to be so lucky to find you. He figured he would leave you to your tour and concentrated on the task at hand, colouring books with his boy.
After a couple more hours of art, the rumbling in Din’s stomach signified that it was lunchtime. Din headed into the kitchen and made some sandwiches for the two to share. The weather was warm, it was early July after all and it seemed as though the British weather had finally remembered what season it was, so Din took Grogu outside and the pair munched on their sandwiches outside on the patio next to the fire pit. It was a feature of the house which Din did not often use. He wondered whether he would sit outside here with you on a cooling summer night, the two of you huddled up together on a bench as you watched the flickering embers of the fire. 
With lunch eaten and cleaned up, Din attempted to put Grogu down for a nap. Mercifully, Grogu was seemingly happy to get some rest, after his busy morning. His son’s eagerness for a nap gave Din the perfect opportunity to catch up on some much-needed sleep after the late night of filming and early morning thanks to his son’s antics. But as he lay there in bed, Din found that he could not settle. The knowledge of his upcoming date was still causing his stomach to do flips. Despite how drained he had felt after the first two weeks of filming, Din couldn’t help but wish that he was on set today. He was incredibly nervous about the upcoming date. Tonight, it would just be the two of you. There was nowhere to hide, just the two of you together. No beskar, no work and no toddlers. It was an equally terrifying and exciting prospect. 
The next sound Din heard was the sound of the doorbell ringing. His eyes flew open and he was momentarily disoriented, forgetting where he was and having no sense of time whatsoever. Din leapt out of bed for the second time that day, panicking that he had overslept. Mercifully, the time on his watch read a little past five p.m. and Din rushed into Grogu’s room, panicking that his son would have woken up without him. He was relieved to see Grogu still sound asleep. Din didn’t have the heart to wake him just yet, so he headed downstairs and was greeted by a familiar hunched figure silhouetted through the glass in the door.
“Hi, Kuiil,” Din welcomed the diminutive man, with his impossibly pink skin, a smattering of white hair above his top lip and deep wrinkled skin. “Thanks for coming, Grogu is upstairs having a nap right now. Figured we could leave him until dinner is ready.”
“Perfect, I’ll get started on that right away,” the old man rasped as he hung up the brown coat he always seemed to wear in the hallway. 
With Grogu asleep and Kuiil tackling dinner for the two of them, it was time for Din to get ready. He inhaled deeply in the shower, hoping that the heat of the hot jets as they rained down upon him would calm his nerves and soothe him somehow. The effect was fleeting before that stomach-flipping nervousness returned. He turned the shower off and exited the bathroom, wrapped in a towel to get ready. The house was a lot less still now. Somewhere below, he could hear the sounds of Kuiil and Grogu laughing and the occasional clanking of pots and pans as the old man continued preparing dinner. Din wondered whether the sound of you and Grogu interacting would ever drift through the cottage and greet his ears. Perhaps he would come in from a workout, to find the two of you playing together in Grogu’s room. Or he would descend the stairs in the morning to find you happily cooking in the kitchen, Grogu on your hip. It was such a vivid image that it almost took Din’s breath away. Din knew that he was probably several steps further than was normal for a first date. But then, the way he had met you had been far from normal. 
After he had dressed, shaved slightly and styled his hair, Din stood in front of the mirror and raked his hand through his hair for what was probably the fiftieth time. Part of the perk of the helmet was that there was no stipulation for how he had to wear his hair and recently, he had been enjoying wearing it longer. His dark hair was pushed back past his ears, the curls were longer on the back of his head and towards the nape of his neck. His moustache had been trimmed slightly, as had most of the scruffy stubble that was usually dotted along his jawline. Din checked his outfit in the mirror one last time, confident that he had played it just right with his outfit. He was wearing a classic white button-down shirt, the first three buttons undone and pushed open to reveal his bronze skin beneath. The shirt was paired with form-fitting dark brown chinos that showed off his muscular legs, which he worked so hard to maintain with his exercise routine, while not being too skinny that they were uncomfortable. 
Din took a deep breath and looked himself up and down one last time in the mirror, hoping that you would like what you saw. He had always struggled to gauge his attractiveness, which was unsurprising given how sheltered his upbringing had been and how much of his life was spent hiding his face behind his helmet. Still, when Din was free to show his face, he had never been particularly focused on others’ responses to him. Sure, he hadn’t failed to notice the occasional admiring looks from both men and women that were thrown his way, but most of the time he had been too focused on a job to stop and explore those gazes further. Now though, with you, he was finally getting to experience a whole new side of himself that had previously remained unexplored. It was an exhilarating prospect, but one that Din approached with equal trepidation. He could not shake the fear that you would perhaps be disappointed in what you saw. 
After deciding that he was satisfied with his appearance, Din grabbed his wallet and phone from the dresser and shoved them in his pockets. His phone had not sounded since your earlier text to confirm the time and venue for your meeting and he wondered whether you were going through a similar process to him, agonising over your appearance. He wished that he could text you and tell you that you had no need to worry. For Din, you could wear anything and he would still be blown away by your beauty.
Din descended the stairs and entered the kitchen and was greeted by the adorable sight of his son sitting in his high chair, face and arms entirely covered by pasta sauce. Din smirked at the sight, grateful that he would not have to be embroiled in the clean-up operation that would surely take place while he was out on his date.
“Oh, Grogu,” Din laughed, “I’m going to keep my distance from you, buddy.” Din gestured towards the freshly-pressed, bright white shirt that he was wearing for his date. The last thing he wanted was for a mucky toddler to ruin his pristine outfit. 
“As soon as he’s finished with his dinner, I’m going to be putting him straight in the bath,” Kuiil huffed. “At least he’s enjoying it, though.”
“It’s wonderful to see,” Din smiled proudly, relieved that Grogu was actually eating something other than his beloved animal crackers. It was a struggle to find foods that the little boy would try, but pasta with tomato sauce appeared to be something that could be added to Grogu’s list of safe foods.
Din poured himself a glass of water and then took a seat at the table, opposite Grogu and well away from the tomato sauce splash zone. He just enjoyed being in his son’s presence, watching with fascination the way Grogu seemed so enthralled by the textures of the pasta and the sauce that he kept making it into little balls with his chubby hands. It was definitely not the most conventional way to eat pasta, but it sure worked for Grogu and if it got him to explore new foods, both Din and Kuiil were more than happy to leave him to it. 
Din also warred with the internal guilt that he sometimes felt when leaving Grogu behind, no matter how short of a time the two of them were apart. Din knew that Grogu was happy with Kuiil; he adored spending time with the older man and the two of them had a truly special bond that anyone who spent time with the two of them together felt privileged to witness. Din knew that Grogu would have a bath, play with his toys and then be put to bed. Din knew that he would be there when his son awoke the following morning. But there was still a nagging guilt in the back of his mind, berating him for leaving his boy alone for something as selfish as a date.
“Din, he’ll be fine,” Kuill smiled sympathetically. The kindly old man appeared to have understood where Din’s mind had wandered. 
“I know, it’s not that I don’t trust you, Kuiil. There’s no one I’d rather him be with,” Din sighed, struggling to put his emotions into words. “I feel so responsible for him, it’s difficult to switch off.”
“Listen, enjoy your night with your lady. If anything happens at all, I will call you immediately. The car can quickly bring you back here, but really, I think this little one is worn out,” Kuiil nodded in Grogu’s direction. “Sounds like the two of you had a busy day before I even got here and after some post-bathtime playing, I’m sure he’ll be out like a light.”
“Thanks, Kuiil,” Din said appreciatively. He knew that the old man he entrusted Grogu with was nothing but diligent in his care of the boy, but there was always that lingering guilt that Din was never quite able to outrun, no matter how hard he tried.
Grogu had just about finished his dinner when the doorbell rang, signifying that Din’s driver had arrived. Din took a deep breath and braced himself to say goodbye to Grogu, hoping that it was one of those nights where Grogu would not get upset at his father leaving. Thankfully, as he leaned down to press a kiss to his boy’s coily hair, Grogu chirped happily and did not seem bothered that his father was leaving, especially as Kuiil was currently detailing all of the toys that Grogu could play with in the bath.
With his heart feeling lighter and safe in the knowledge that his son was going to be okay, Din pushed the old wooden door of the cottage open and made his way to the black van that would ferry him to central London to meet you. Part of the perks of his job was the fact that Din had a driver on call at all times, ready to take him wherever he desired on a moment’s notice. His usual driver was a man called Boba, Din suspected was around his age but somehow seemed more wizened. Din suspected that the two of them shared similar pasts, although he was inclined to keep personal chatter to a minimum.
“Hi, Boba,” Din greeted the bald man who was sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Good evening, Mr. Djarin,” Boba nodded, as he started the engine and drove off.
Din was grateful that Boba did not speak unless spoken to; he was not one for small talk, which suited Din perfectly. The radio was on, mercifully at a quiet volume and Din found himself staring out of the window as the lush green countryside turned into leafy suburbia and then, finally, the hustle and bustle of the big city. It took a certain amount of driving skill to be able to navigate London on a Friday evening, especially given the stop-start nature of the traffic. Din felt as though they were crawling along and wondered several times whether it would be quicker to walk. 
Eventually, though, the car pulled up a street behind Trafalgar Square and Din eagerly hopped out, anxious to get to the meeting point even though he was twenty minutes early. He had left extra early to account for the stubborn London traffic which had proved to be a wise decision as, despite Boba’s driving skill, the journey had still taken more than an hour.
Din hovered by one of the two fountains, not sure where the most convenient place to meet was, given the size of the square. Although the Corinthian pillar that hosted a statue of a British naval hero on top was the focal point of the square, it was busy with tourists attempting to hop on the bronze lions dotted around the base. Din hoped that you would be able to spot him in his current location. He paced around, checking his watch every few minutes and nervously raking his hand through his hair.
“Hi,” a quiet, familiar voice spoke into the warm summer evening and Din immediately spun around, just like that day at the convention when you had caught him looking up at the poster.
“Hi,” Din breathed as he finally looked at you. The sight of you almost caused Din to topple backwards into the fountain. He was almost speechless, as his eyes traversed your body and appreciated the way your outfit complimented your body. “You look incredible,” Din breathed, utterly floored by the sight of you. He had seen you in full-nerd mode at the convention, in your work clothes and dressed down for a casual day at the zoo. But to see you dressed up slightly, with hair and makeup styled to match… you were a breathtaking vision before him and Din could scarcely believe that you were his date. He felt like the luckiest man in the entire world. 
“Thank you,” you replied. Din watched as a shy smile crept across your features and you brought your hand to the side of your face, an indication that you were perhaps as nervous as him.
“Do you have any guesses as to the venue for our date?” Din asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. He wondered whether you had clocked how close the meeting point was to the stunning neoclassical building which looked out over the square. 
“No, I figured we met here because of its location in central London. It’s close to a lot of notable places,” you shrugged. Din smirked, delighted that what he was going to say next was sure to surprise you. 
“Well, I apologise if you’re a bit sick of museums given that you, uh, work in one all week,” Din said, bringing his hand to the back of his neck and squeezing in a self-soothing gesture. “But I remembered what you said during the tour, about a certain painting that always seems to have a crowd of tourists surrounding it…”
“Din! You didn’t!” You exclaimed, clapping your hand over your mouth in shock. 
“Would you like to see the sunflowers without a crowd of people gathered around them?” Din asked, although he already knew what your answer would be.
“YES!” You practically squealed. For a moment Din wondered whether you were about to throw your arms around him in excitement as you appeared to move slightly towards him before you stopped in your tracks. 
To Din, it appeared that you were holding back somewhat. He panicked that you were disappointed in his outfit, perhaps you had just been too polite to say no to a date. Din shook his head and dismissed those insecure thoughts as the two of you began walking up the stairs towards the stunning museum building. He could not forget the way you had looked at him when you had first turned around. There was definitely something there. Din focused on the building to ground himself, admiring the stunning facade. He gazed up at the portico, with its pillars and the dome on the roof above the pediment. Din hadn’t even stepped foot inside yet and he was already blown away by the beauty of the building. If the works contained inside were as incredible as the exterior, it was certain to be an incredible evening. 
A museum worker was waiting at the entrance and she took the two of you inside and gave a brief talk about the rules and expectations for such an exclusive tour. Unlike during his visit to the British Museum, Din had requested that the two of you just be allowed to make your way around alone and, apart from a security guard who would follow you into each room but keep their distance, the two of you would be left to your own devices. 
Din gazed up in awe at the dome above the steps that led up to the galleries. There were ornate marble pillars and gold patterns on the marble doorways. Every surface contained remarkable detail, even the mosaic floor, and Din almost felt that he couldn’t possibly take it all in at once. Surely he would have to stand here for hours and commit it all to memory. However, there was an entire, empty museum with untold treasures waiting to be explored.
“Where to start? This place is enormous!” Din remarked.
“Maybe we can start with the older paintings, the Renaissance and the like?” you suggested. “Then we can finish at the modern section, with the Impressionists and Van Gogh.”
“Lead the way,” Din gestured and you obeyed, practically galloping up the stairs towards the Renaissance wing.
Although Din could appreciate the skill that had gone into crafting such masterpieces so many centuries ago, the subjects of most of the paintings meant nothing to him as they mainly depicted religious history. The Creed that Din followed was quite different, with the bullet and sword carving out most of their history rather than the brush and pencil. Most of the figures meant nothing to him, although he was stunned by their attention to detail.
“Not really doing it for you?” You asked, as though able to sense Din’s disinterest with this particular section.
“Um, I mean… I can appreciate the skill but I prefer landscapes and nature, I think,” Din admitted, hoping that you did not think him uncultured. Din was anything but, yet his cultural background was worlds apart from what was depicted in this museum. 
“To be honest, me too,” you shrugged. “There are only so many creepy babies and angels that I can stand to look at. I know a section that you’ll like!”
Din was stunned as you moved towards him and reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. He inhaled sharply as the realisation that you had actually taken his hand dawned upon him. Din did not have much time to react as you began leading him through the museum. All earlier nervousness on your end had apparently vanished, as you had actually taken Din's hand in your own. Din was so taken aback by the gesture and the feeling of your warm, soft hand against his, that he almost forgot to begin moving his legs to follow you. Fortunately, he remembered that to actually move forward he had to lift his feet, his brain finally catching up to your gesture. Din followed you to wherever you were taking him, a wide grin on his face as he appreciated the fact that you were joined together. He did not care where you were taking him, as long as the two of you were together. 
Din did not have long to ponder where you were going as he was led into a smaller room off the main wings which contained a variety of stunningly detailed, colourful paintings of an incredible array of flowers. Din paused for a few moments, taking in the art in the room, but you were already marching to the centre of the room. Din was disappointed when you dropped his hand and moved further into the room, wishing that the two of you could have held hands all night. 
“This is a section with a lot of Dutch flower artists, like de Heem, Ruysch and van Huysum,” you explained. “This one is by Brueghel the Elder. I just love the colours, so vibrant and the lighting is so realistic, it’s easy to forget that this is a painting. It looks almost photo-realistic, despite being over four hundred years old. Sorry, I’m going into tour guide mode, even though this isn’t my museum,” you added, sheepishly.
“Don’t apologise,” Din smiled, closing the distance between the two of you and nodding at you, willing you to continue. He was fascinated by your mind and wanted to hear what you had to say.
“You can see there are some tulips in this one, like the red one up there in the corner. At this time, the Dutch economy was built on tulip prices, people made enormous fortunes speculating on that little flower’s worth. Until, one day, the bubble burst and people lost everything. I think some Dutch people even resorted to eating tulips!”
“That’s fascinating,” Din shook his head as he took in the information. “Something so beautiful, eventually causing so much pain.”
“Yeah…” you breathed.
“Sorry, that was a little depressing,” Din scoffed. “I didn’t mean for it to be.”
“No, it’s alright. Art isn’t created in a vacuum, right? I mean, there’s a story behind every painting. I think it can help you connect with them on a deeper level.”
“It certainly can…” Din agreed, taking another step towards you.
“Um, anyway, perhaps we can head to the modern section,” you blurted out as if wanting to maintain your distance, “I’d like to take advantage of being able to look at the impressionists without people wanting to do a photoshoot by Van Gogh’s sunflowers or Monet’s water lilies,” you offered.
Din nodded in agreement and noticed that this time, you did not take his hand. That nagging feeling of insecurity was slowly creeping into his gut and he did not remotely enjoy the sensation. Why did you seem to be holding back from him? Din could not understand it. Surely, you understood how attracted he was to you?
Din followed you as you practically marched through the museum to the more modern section, stopping only briefly to draw his attention to a Holbein painting called The Ambassadors. Din listened intently as you explained that it was one of the most famous paintings in the gallery. Although he much preferred nature, he could appreciate the details of the clothes and the captivating facial expressions, especially given the size of the canvas. Then, the two of you left the Renaissance wing and moved to where the Impressionists were situated. 
Din had followed you closely as you strode purposefully towards the entire reason that Din had arranged a private evening in this museum in the first place. To the most famous piece in the gallery, the one that people from around the country and indeed, the world, travelled to see: Vincent Van Gogh’s sunflowers. Now, Din was standing next to you in quiet contemplation in front of the piece, trying to appreciate every inch and understand what drew you to it.
 “I can see why you like it so much,” Din offered. “There’s just something about it that makes you not want to look away.”
“Right? I could stare at it for hours,” you replied. “And honestly, without any tourists here, I might well do that.”
Din huffed a laugh at that. Although he was quietly jealous of the way that you were gazing at the painting of a man who had died over a century ago. Din wanted, more than anything, for you to turn your head and gaze at him with as much reverence as you were looking at the sunflowers.
“It was worth pulling all the strings just to see you so happy,” Din smiled. 
You turned your head at that, granting Din’s wish as you looked at him, eyes full of emotion. You opened your mouth as if to say something before subtly shaking your head and seemingly deciding against it.
“Thank you, Din. It means the world to be able to stand here in front of a painting I love so much…”
“Well, can you please tell me more about the sunflowers, my favourite tour guide?”
You shook your head and smiled before you launched into another mini-art history lecture. “It’s my favourite piece because I think most people only understand it on a very surface level, whereas I’ve always thought it was quite a sad piece. A lot of us associate the colour yellow and indeed the sunflowers themselves with happiness, but the story behind this painting is anything but happy,” you paused, looking at Din as if to confirm that he was still interested. Din nodded and you continued: “Vincent was friends with a painter called Paul Gauguin and invited him to come and stay with him in Arles, a city in Southern France because he aspired to set up an art colony. So, while he waited, Vincent spent his days painting the sunflowers, intending that the piece would decorate Gauguin’s room. But he didn’t come. As more and more time passed, it was clear that despite Vincent’s enthusiasm, Gauguin was not in any hurry to join him. That’s why you can see the sunflowers at the bottom are dying,” you explained as you gestured towards the wilted flowers at the bottom of the painting.
Din slowly nodded as he cast his eyes towards the sad sunflowers that he had never noticed before. It suddenly gave the painting a newer, more mournful meaning, a perfect mix of enthusiasm and melancholia that Din found strangely relatable and moving.
“There are a few different versions of the painting, where you can see the sunflowers in various stages of decay. It shows just how lonely he was, in real time. Gauguin did eventually come, but the two of them did not get along. Their frequent explosive rows caused Gauguin to eventually leave, a couple of days before Christmas. The entire experience contributed to Vincent’s declining mental state and he entered an asylum, where he spent most of the last year of his life…” you observed, voice quiet now. “I think it’s strange really, that such a famous painting can be viewed so many different ways and that most people do not know the entire story. A lot of people love Van Gogh, but few people truly understand him. And even fewer, I believe, would want to be associated with him if they lived at the same time as him. We like to think that things would be different now and oddballs like Vincent would be treated better, but I’m not so sure. I think we still live in a world where people who are different are treated terribly and anyone who shows any kind of otherness is ostracised for it. He was misunderstood in life and equally in death, too.”
“Wow…” Din breathed. He knew, of course, that he should have expected more than a surface-level assessment of the piece coming from you. But he was no less stunned by the beautiful words that came out of your mouth, the sentiment expressed and the way you seemingly cared so deeply for the world around you and all of the people in it.
“Sorry, I went off on a bit of a tangent there…” you shook your head. 
“Don’t apologise. You’re incredible,” Din reassured, beaming at you. His brown eyes widened in awe of the thoughts you had just shared with him. 
The way you bit your lip, blushed and looked down slightly at the floor as if shy about the compliment Din had just paid you only made him all the more determined to shower you with compliments. He vowed that as long as you were in his life, he would not go a single day without complimenting you, without letting you know how incredible he found you. 
“Um, I might just sit here for a bit and appreciate the paintings if you’d like to join,” you said, gesturing towards the bench that was just behind the two of you. 
Din nodded and followed you to the bench, making sure that he sat close to you and pressed his body against yours. Din positioned himself so that your legs, arms and thighs were touching as you sat on the bench. He was not putting much weight on you, but it was an indication of how close he wanted to get you, and how attracted he felt to you. You were pulling him into your orbit, perhaps without realising it. 
“It’s nice to be able to sit here and look at the paintings without a thousand tourists with their phones blocking your view. I mean, I know the sunflowers are the most popular but there is also the painting of the crabs here. I love the textures and colours. Plus that chair, it’s very much like those found in one of my other favourite Van Gogh paintings: The Bedroom. I think the detailing on it shows a….”
Din was well aware that he was not able to contribute to your ramblings, even if he had possessed the knowledge to. He was distracted by the warm weight of your body against his own, the way his pulse quickened just being in this proximity to you. His gaze flitted to your lips, looking so kissable in the shade of lipstick that perfectly complimented your outfit that you had chosen. Din was aware that you were still speaking about your love for the beautiful artworks before you, but your voice seemed distant somehow. 
Din knew that if he did what he wanted to and joined his lips to yours there would be no going back. Once he kissed you, it was inevitable that he would dedicate his entire life to you. You had already shown so many traits that he was attracted to with your patience, intelligence and kindness. If his lips claimed yours in a kiss, it would be like crossing the Rubicon, a point of no return.
Din sat there, so wrapped up in his thoughts that he failed to notice that you had stopped speaking. It wasn’t until you shook your head and looked away that Din was aware that he had completely zoned out and given you the misguided impression that he was uninterested in what you had to say.
“Sorry, I was boring you,” you shook your head and averted your gaze, clearly feeling embarrassed. Din felt awful.
“Not at all!” Din exclaimed.
“I know I can go on too much, I’m sorry if I–”
But Din cut your ramblings off, mid-sentence. 
“Truthfully, I was just thinking about how much I want to kiss you right now…” Din confessed.
“Then kiss me. I can’t wait much longer,” you breathed.
“Is that what you really want? I mean…”
“Din! If you don’t kiss me already, I’m going to scream!”
Din nodded nervously and brought his arm up as he leaned in. He cupped your jaw in his strong hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb and marvelling at how soft your skin was. He hadn’t even kissed you yet, and already his breaths were so shallow that he feared he might pass out. Din paused a few inches from your face, staring at your lips until you closed your eyes and closed the final distance between you, his eyes squeezing shut as your soft, warm lips touched his. 
Din had kissed people before. He had relished the uniquely intimate connection that came from joining one’s lips to another’s. It was something that had always set his heart racing and made him feel light-headed from the momentousness of such an occasion. Kissing you, though, was a different prospect entirely. It was as though every nerve ending in his body was suddenly on fire. The sensation of your lips together, his hand leaving your cheek to cradle the back of your head as the kiss deepened threatened to unleash something feral in Din that he was sure would be entirely inappropriate for a building as beautiful as the National Gallery.
“Um, wow,” you breathed after Din pulled away from the kiss. 
Din smirked and raised an eyebrow, pleased that you had seemingly had the same reaction to the kiss as him.
“That was incredible,” you added, confirming the fact.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Din confessed, biting his lip lightly. 
“I think I’ve wanted you to for even longer…”
“I’m new to… all of this, dating, you know. I mean, since Grogu, I haven’t felt able to just drop everything and go on dates,” Din explained, clasping his hands together and playing with his fingers, a sign of the nervousness he felt when talking about this. “I just wanted you to know that. I really enjoy spending time with you. I haven’t felt like this for… well, a long time, to be honest. You’re incredibly special and important to me, already, and I would love to spend more time with you.”
“Oh, Din,” you exhaled. “I… I don’t know what to say. Of course, I want to spend more time with you. I’m not very good at this either, I feel like with dating I always come off either too strongly or completely uninterested. But that day when, um, when I saw you at the museum… I was so upset that you were probably going to turn out to be a total creep like every other man I’ve ever given a tour to, because you were so handsome. When you were a complete gentleman it made things much more complicated. I don’t know how I focused on the tour!”
“I would never have guessed, you did a phenomenal job,” Din praised.
“Thank you,” you breathed. “I would love to see you again, as soon as possible. I’m um… I’m free all weekend, if that’s convenient for you.”
“So am I,” Din smiled. “I was thinking after leaving the museum, we could go for a drink somewhere together, if you have any recommendations.”
“Sounds perfect,” you breathed.
Din leaned in for another kiss. Now that that particular barrier had been broken, he was going to make a point of stealing as many kisses from your lips as possible. As your soft lips moved against his and he cupped your cheeks with his hands, Din knew that kissing you like this was something he would never tire of. When you eventually pulled away for some much-needed air, Din leaned his forehead against yours and the two of you smiled shyly, giggling breathlessly as you relished your newfound closeness.
“I’m so lucky our paths crossed,” Din sighed. 
For a moment, it was so easy to forget about how exactly your paths had first crossed. The fact that Din had seen you and began to feel things for you long before you ever knew it. Din felt a pang of guilt at the gravity of the secret he was keeping from you, but then he reminded himself of all the reasons this was important. Din had no doubts that you were an honourable, trustworthy person, but there was no way he could sacrifice the privacy and security of his son at this early stage. Din consoled himself in that moment by reminding himself that he had never knowingly lied to you. This was your first date, after all, he reminded himself to live in the moment and to stop thinking several steps ahead. One day, you would know the truth, one day.
✯ ✯ ✯
As Din gazed across the table at you, your elbow resting on the immaculate wooden surface and your hand cupping your chin slightly as you threw your head back in laughter, he was completely captivated by your effortless beauty. You were giggling at a memory Din was sharing of his time as a stuntman, albeit with the story attributed to a non-existent friend to avoid revealing that he worked in the film industry.  The bar that you had found was underground and dimly lit, save for the lamps that sat on every table. It was modelled after a prohibition-era speakeasy and it was no surprise to Din that you had suggested it, given your passion for history.
After you had left the museum, Din and you held hands and walked briskly through the cooling London evening. It was still reasonably warm, mercifully summer had finally arrived but compared to the thin clothes that both of you had set out in, the temperature had significantly dropped. Luckily, the bar was well-heated despite being located underground. There was ambient jazz music playing and the buzz of people enjoying their Friday nights with prohibition-themed cocktails. 
Din had swapped stories with you, the two of you learning more details about the others’ lives. Din found that he was surprisingly adept at obscuring the truth and removing key identifying features of his anecdotes. There was so much of his life, including the fact that he was a real Mandalorian, that he had to hide from you. But there was an equal amount that he could share, even if told from a slightly different perspective. Din loved hearing about your life too, your hopes, fears and dreams. He thought that you were one of the most interesting people that he had ever met, even if there was an occasional air of insecurity to you that he struggled to understand, given all of your talents.
Din smiled as he watched you stand up from the table and walk to the bathroom. You were still as stunning, even in the dim lights of the bar. His good mood did not last though when he pulled out his phone to pass the time in your absence and noticed, with a frown, that there was a new text from Jim.
Din’s heart sank when he read the message notification on his lockscreen:
Hi Din, Sorry for the late notice but you are needed on set tomorrow for pickups. Promise we will make it up to you next week. Jim
Din threw his head back and sighed. The promise of a free weekend, especially when he desperately needed one, had been cruelly snatched away from him. The vow that he had made to you in the museum that you would meet up again this weekend now looked set to be broken. It was not going to be the nicest end to a first date, to let you down due to a last-minute work commitment. Din sighed, showing his frustration over how unfair this all was. 
His heart sank further when you returned from the bathroom and the first words out of your mouth were attempting to arrange another time to meet up this weekend.
“I was thinking tomorrow, maybe we could meet up at this park near me, perhaps you can bring Grogu?” You suggested after you slid into the booth opposite Din. “I think there’s a play area, he’d probably love it.”
“I’m so sorry to let you down like this… I can’t. My boss just texted me and told me that I’m needed at work tomorrow,” Din sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m so sorry, I really wanted to spend time with you.”
“Oh, that’s a shame,” you looked down dejectedly. “What about Sunday?”
“I think the disruption to Grogu’s routine of me going to work tomorrow will mean that I should probably spend the day with him on Sunday, to make sure that he’s alright,” Din replied apologetically. “Look, I’m so sorry about this. It’s not personal at all, but Grogu… he is my only priority. I have to do what’s best for him and an entire weekend of his routine being disrupted… it would be too much for him. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Din winced at the disappointment he saw in your eyes, at how despondent and let-down you looked. He knew that he would make it up to you, he was a man of his word. He only hoped that you would give him a chance to.
“Okay, Din,” you smiled weakly. “Um, look, I should probably start heading home soon before the tube stops running.”
“Well, I was thinking we could stay a little longer. You could get a ride home in the car with me if you’d like?”
“Thanks for the offer but I know my route back home and I’m happy to take it,” you replied and Din felt uneasy at how distant you suddenly seemed to be, as though you were withdrawing from him and retreating into your shell. 
“Okay,” Din breathed. “Let me get the bill.”
Din hailed a waiter and paid for both of your drinks, on a company credit card, another perk of the job. Then the two of you slid out of the booth and made your way back up to street level, feeling rather like two moles that had just emerged from their holes after spending many months underground. Din was astonished that it was approaching midnight, all sense of time seemed to have vanished in the basement bar.
“I had a wonderful night with you,” Din said as he offered you his arm, which you took, looping your hand through his arm and resting your hand on his toned bicep. “I really am sorry about this weekend. Work said they will make it up to me, so I should be able to ensure that this does not happen again next weekend. Are you free then?
“I should be, yeah,” you smiled and Din felt relieved that your demeanour had lightened somewhat. “I was just a little shocked, it felt a little personal,”
“No, never,” Din said, stopping in the street and shaking his head definitively as he looked into your eyes, hoping that you sensed how much he had enjoyed your evening together. “I meant everything I said in the museum, you are incredibly important to me.”
Maybe it was the slight buzz from the alcohol, or maybe it was the way you were currently gazing at Din, but he suddenly felt a little lightheaded as you finally arrived outside the station.
“Thank you for this incredible evening, Din,” you smiled, as the two of you stood facing each other just outside the entrance to the tube station. “See you next weekend?”
“See you next weekend,” Din nodded. “I’ll text you in the week.”
Then, Din felt his pulse quicken as you closed the distance to him and pulled him into another kiss. It was more intimate this time, with your hands resting on his shoulders as his hands moved to the back of your head. The kiss was probably slightly more passionate than was appropriate for such a public place, but the cocktails and the intoxicating buzz that came from being around you meant that Din did not remotely care.
“Goodnight, Din,” you whispered against his lips after pulling away from the embrace, before turning and walking into the station.
Din stood there for a few minutes in your wake, fixed to the spot even after he had watched you disappear into the tube station. He could not bring himself to move, as though this spot where you had just kissed provided some tangible connection to you that lingered even after you were gone. Din wanted time to hurry up so that he could be in your presence again, knowing that the rest of the week would feel dull and unimaginative compared to the vibrant, inspiring few hours that he had just spent with you.
Din Djarin had often wondered what falling in love would feel like. He had long since given up on the hope that he would ever experience such an emotion.
Yet the butterflies in his stomach and smile that he still wore across his face, even after you were no longer at his side, suggested that he might just be on his way to finding out.
Next Chapter
Taglist: @toxic-seduction @survivingandenduring @readingiskeepingmegoing
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seirclys · 11 months
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OG! Penelope Eckhart Headcanons: Appearance
Part 1!
This is gonna be the first of a small series, I think? A lot of my headcanons revolve around my fanfic Shrike, and that doesn't necessarily appeal to a lot of people. Besides, I do have separate hcs for Shrike!Penelope and OG!Penelope, so that's the basis of this little series.
There WILL be some overlap between Shrike and these headcanons, though, just for you eagle-eyed readers who've read my stuff.
This is the first part, focusing on Penelope's appearance! I'm merging what we know from the novel and how SUOL-nim draws her since I imagine Siyeon as less precocious about her appearance than Penelope. I've included some links in the list to elaborate on further.
——— SPOILERS AHEAD ———
Physical Appearance
Penelope, as a villainess in a dating game, is portrayed with sharper beauty than the innocence of Ivonne.
First of all, unlike the roundedness of the manhwa, her eyes are incredibly sharp, catlike, and upturned. I think a better description for her eyes would be "danfengyan"(丹鳳眼), which are "vermillion phoenix eyes". There are two types of phoenix eyes, with danfengyan being the sharper one with double eyelids. Danfengyan is also associated with the beauty standard of China, a symbol of nobility and majesty in ancient China as well.
Additionally, it's also associated with more historical vibes, with their charm brought out the most by the opulent clothes of nobility.
It would certainly lend to a villainess feeling if a pair of aristocratic eyes gaze down at you with grandeur.
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This chart is often used in Chinese eye shape posts, especially English ones.
While we're still on the topic of her eyes, the novel has them as green while the manhwa is this blue-green hybrid. I'm going to combine these together and add a bit of a magical element to them.
I think Penelope has eyes like nacre(also known as "mother-of-pearl"), eyes that shift from blue to green when the light hits them just right. I actually do have a reference picture for what her eye color looks like.
It also fits the idea of the "Mermaid Tear" jewel matching Penelope's eyes in the canon novel.
However, they now have a hazy, glassy quality to them that is normally hidden by a mask that Penelope wears, from the result of the pain she has suffered.
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Reference
Penelope has aegyo-sal!! The cute little puffs of fat underneath your eyes which are all the rage in East Asia right now, it softens her eyes a tad.
She has long, thick magenta lashes, pretty well-defined like the manga-lashes trend. The lashes are a bit darker than her hair color.
In the same vein, her eyebrows are actually magenta/dark pink like the novel cover! Just a tad darker, with a slight curve, a bit thicker than the pencil brows that manhwa girls usually have. They're naturally set in a manner that makes Penelope look aloof.
She has a cute button nose but a higher nose bridge than Ivonne, making her look more elegant than cute. In addition, she has a more pointed nose tip than Ivonne as well. A small aristocratic nose.
For her mouth, Penelope has a full bottom lip with a slightly smaller upper lip, which has a defined cupid's bow. The novel cover has her upper and lower lips the same size, but I just think it's because the lower lip isn't colored in as much.
Edit: She has small, subtle mouth-corner dimples. The ones around the lower lip.
Her face is pretty sharp and slim, with a mix of doll-like elegance but the classical villainess sharpness.
Penelope's skin is extremely pale like the purest of pearls, both from her intense skincare regimen, the beauty standards of Eorka, and the fact that she rarely exposes herself to direct sun. Parasols are her best friend.
Her magic is subconsciously used for small things in her day-to-day life, so I would imagine Penelope's desire to fit into the nobility's beauty standards influencing it to affect her appearance.
Her hair, no matter how long, maintains its perfect curls and mirror-like shine. Its vivid rhododendron hue contrasts sharply with her skin.
I think that the "appearance-enhancing magic" was dimmed down when Siyeon was transmigrated in since she is a tiny shard of the original. It's gonna be my in-universe explanation for why Penelope's hair went to waist-length later on, Emily having to cut it because of the lack of magic supplying it with healthy nutrients.
Her hair, thusly, reaches to like. Her knees? Very Long Hair.
I'm referencing another Tumblr user's post here, I'll edit the post with the link when I find it. BUT. I've been drawing recently and trying to diversify the body shapes we see in manhwa.
I feel like Penelope's body would be more mature, "shapely" for lack of an appropriate term. She wore a lot of extravagant and mature dresses that weren't age-appropriate but suited her at the same time(I will have to fact-check this).
TLDR: hourglass body yo... peak example of beauty standards...
If she wasn't so ostracized, and her personality was less abrasive, I feel like her nickname would've been "The Temptress" or something, with her body being lusted over by other men(which feeds into her disgust at their hypocrisy. Will go into this in more detail in later posts). Think Roxana's 19-year-old body(Roxana) or Larcy(I Will Fall with the Emperor).
Tiny waist, which is even more pronounced by the tightlacing she does.
This is also due to my headcanon of a fictional plant named "Scipretta"(seen also in Shrike). Penelope was continuously dosed with it since she was 13.
Scipretta is a plant of Delman origin, from its Western Plains and has been cultivated for six centuries. It was used for physical enhancement of secondary sex characteristics, especially in females. Essentially, Scipretta would push puberty along, full of magical growth hormones. It was often taken by Delman concubines to appear more physically attractive. Unrefined, it acts as a mild poison that eats away at one's energy, causing the trend of "Slumbering Nymphs" in Delmanese culture.
The Eckhart maids regularly dosed her with it to cover up potential signs of malnutrition while harming her as well. Then, if someone were to be suspicious of the malnutrition, they could point to her body and say "how could Lady Penelope have a perfect body like that if she wasn't eating well, and being taken care of like a princess?"
However, Penelope does have a naturally beautiful body, the Scipretta fed to her was of questionable quality and really sapped her of her energy. When Dona was kicked out, she stopped getting dosed.
She has sharp shoulders, slender and pale limbs, and she has long fingers that are good for playing instruments. Her decolletage and bone structure are quite pronounced.
Clothing
Everything, and I do mean everything is expensive and extravagant.
Penelope wears a lot of dark colors and subtle but expensive patterns and fabrics. However, she does have a large variety of clothes in all cuts, styles, seasons, and occasions. She easily has one of the largest wardrobes among the noblewomen.
As mentioned above, Penelope tightlaced her corsets. It had the side-effect of making her not hungry even when she was starving from malnutrition. It kept it off her mind.
She carries parasols and fans, embroidered with beautiful lace and patterns.
Her accessories are as numerous as one may believe, with countless unique, stunning jewels in her collection. She has a lot of expensive, gem-studded accessories because they can be pawned off, especially if she has to escape to a place that doesn't use the standard currency.
Penelope has a lot of pieces and even luxurious gifts from foreign admirers.
They range from tame, to cute, to extravagant.
Her dresses are all structured with large skirts, but as she mentally matured during the time loops, she gravitated toward less structured silhouettes or mermaid gowns. In addition, her clothes began to cling more to her body, emphasizing it along with lower-cut necklines(think something along the lines of the Hunting Competition red gown).
She shows her shoulders off often with off-shoulder clothing.
Her layers also grew more sheer, like sheer overskirts, sheer sleeves, and other sheer details.
Scent
Flowers: She has that sweet, floral scent of roses, lilies, or fragrant rhododendrons.
Fruit: Penelope sometimes has notes of bergamot, which does wonders for stress. For fruity scents, she picks ones that induce calm.
Cloves: A hint of that spicy, woody scent, especially when she wears rhododendron perfume.
However, Penelope always carries around the scent of sweet flowers, which comes from her magic powers, described later on.
Makeup/Nails
While Penelope favors deep reds and pinks for her lips, she does wear lighter lipcolors during daytime occasions.
Her cheeks are constantly dusted with blush, a subtle all-over and concentrated a smidge more around underneath her eyes.
Her aegyo-sal is highlighted by highlighter(ha) and pink eyeshadow.
Speaking of eyeshadow: her eyes are highlighted the most with bold colors, but Penelope tones it down with shades of pink, red, and coral, as well as gold and silver powder to tie in the looks. She knows her makeup and how to not overwhelm a look.
As for nails, while she prefers to match her nails to her outfit, Penelope favors jelly-colors or pearl-patterned nails. The sort of blurry, glass-like nails that are popular all over East Asia right now and fast entering the West.
She imports a lot of products, accessories, and clothes(both styles and fabric) from all over.
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“What’s so Special About the Moon?”
Jamil Viper x MC(insert character Mac)
(Ch. 1) – Ch. 2 – Ch. 3 – Ch. 4 – Next – Previous
This was originally supposed to be, like, a single chapter hurt/comfort before my OC (Mac) and Jamil as a song fic where they berate him and then sing a song referencing the moon… but then I had feelings and it’s becoming a more in depth character study between the two. Don’t worry! By the end of this mini series, there will be song lyrics and more sappiness… it’s just now that I’ve finished both Book 4 and Book 5, I need to reorganize the events and specific and whatnot. Some quick housekeeping as always: I tried to make Jamil to encompass both his dark & mysterious villain persona ALONG WITH him practically being a fucking child so that’s why I wrote him like *this* so yeah… I’m moving around the timeline so that Yuu/MC (aka Mac) has the weekend to GET THEIR SHIT TOGETHER LOL, Mac is about 19-20 (haven’t decided yet) and uses mixed pronouns as a heads up, Ch. 2 has a 1st draft written put still needs to be typed up and edited. If you see a typo NO YOU DIDN’T!!! This one of my first times trying a different writing doc that isn’t Google (cuz fuck Google) and it’s a little weird to get used to and edit stuff. It’s beta-d in the sense that licking the spatula while your mom bakes cookies and claiming that you helped… literally only a few paragraphs were checked over y’all.
Quick shout-out to @krenenbaker and @twst-beam for inspiring my writing thus far (and sorry for taking so long to post this lol!)
I’ll be releasing some type of overview of my OC eventually, but take these snippets as they go while I fall back in love with writing. You’ll meet Mac in full when xey are good and ready… anyway, please enjoy Chapter 1 of my new fanfiction, “What’s So Special About the Moon?”
“Here. You can use this one,” Jamil directed towards the plain (compared to the rest of the dorm) laundry… mat? There were several industrial sized washer and dryers, a couple moderate-sized one’s that would fit a regular apartment complex, and a long wall designated area for hand washed items. Jamil was keeping the door prompt open with his hips; his slight frown of concentration and the flick of his Magic Pen were the only signs of the current spell he had going. Turning around, MC was slightly surprised by the massive piles of fabric that was being corralled in via multiple a massive sheet tied to multiple brooms. They still couldn’t fully grasp the concept (and power) of magic and seeing it so casually performed on a day-to-day basis was kinda daunting.
“Thanks again for letting us use the space along with showing me how to properly clean all these fancy duds and whatnot.” the Ramshackle Perfect awkwardly trailed off. Their focus was split between stealing peaks at the Scarabia Vice Warden, not wanting to bother the already busy Sophomore, and surveying over the dusty, damaged antique pieces the two stripped from the halls of the previously abandoned dorm. Rugs, carpets, curtains, furniture covers (in varying state of disrepair) dulled of their once rich and vibrant color. The patterns were a mix of stuffy academia and the quiet comfort of a grandparents cottage living room. Both extravagant, yet understated. It’s a style lost to time, but not quite a revived ancient aesthetic.
At this point MC was fully lost in thought; they desperately needed to clean, fix, organize and decorate the dorm in preparation to host so many guests. Even with his limited memories, they had a feeling they’d never hear the end of it from his parents.
“Don’t worry about it much.” Jamil said, interrupting their musings. “Honestly, I’m doing this as much for myself as I am helping you.
With a flick of his wrist, Jamil organized the seemingly random crumbled piles of fabric by condition, color and use. His movements while cleaning were quick, smart, and efficient-- all while patiently showing Mac which order to start in along with the best way to clean them.
“Ya’ know…” MC broke the relative quietness between the two workers, “Even with everything thing that happened over break, I understand why Kalim still trusts you; I almost can believe that you’re not that bad of a guy.” Jamil gave xem a startled (and exasperated) look, but they continued before he could respond: “I fail to see how helping the person who ruined your ‘world domination’ plans—”
“They were hardly World Domination level!” He quickly snapped. His embarrassment led to him tugging his hood further down his face, teeth slightly clenched, and dilated eyes as MC continued listing all the ways he’s “helped” them out.
The magic-less Perfect laughed to themselves the more conflicting emotions flew across Jamil’s face. Eventually those same emotions were compressed behind a cold, smooth mask. Limestone slabs and stiff mud brick walls were swiftly constructed between the two working-class students. Something about it didn’t sit right with Mac.
“Hey I’m not saying what you pulled wasn’t a dick move! But you’re also not the first overly-traumatized teen boy I’ve had to deal with… and between what you’ve said about yourself, plus thing’s I’ve heard and seen, I’m starting to think you’re not nearly as complicated as you think you are.” The longer they argued *to* him, the more Jamil’s mask began to crack; there were a few holes in his walls he didn’t account for. Xe’s a tad more observant than I remember, but weirdly just as persistent, Jamil internally rolled his eyes.
“I could still change my mind and send you back to deal with the Pomefiore Wrath(tm),” He mumbled while gracefully lugging the newly cleaned (and damp) furniture coverings into an empty drier. Despite his harsh threat, MC still remembered him assuring the other this laundry room was only ever used by him after Kalim’s parties.
The large machines and larger working space was specifically added for the servant to clean and repair any decor or Asim Family Treasures when Kalim’s recklessness caused a larger mess than usual. This meant that Mac and Grim (who was originally supposed to be helping… where the hell was he anyway?) could do as many loads needed without worry. On top of the borrowed space, the Housewarden himself had cheerily has assured them, his Oasis Maker would replace all the water used ten times over!
Mac’s thoughts were interrupted once again as Jamil relented, “I told you, I’m doing this to help me.” After receiving an unconvinced eyebrow raise, Jamil began to explain, “Kalim might’ve announced us as equals but I still have a job to do. If he got sick while spending Allah knows how long in a dusty, dirty, shabby condemned building like Ramshackle I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“It’s not nearly that bad anymore!” the sole-human resident of said dorm argued, but was quickly shut up with a tired gesture towards the untouched loads of laundry left to be done.
“On top of that,” Jamil smirked “Even a common peasant like myself wouldn’t sleep in a rundown garbage heap if I can help it.” His smirk slowly slide off his face from his face as the insulted Perfect almost ripped the handful of soapy doilies, that they were previously scrubbing by hand, as xey prepared a retaliation.
“OK, first of all! This whole Inferior-Superior shtick isn’t going to prove your point. If I’m being totally honest, I’m pretty used to the bratty, arrogant attitude of teenagers by now (even if I wasn’t Leona is a thousand times worse).” They turned their full body to face the 2nd year boy before continuing the assault. “Secondly, even just doing the bare minimum would’ve been fine, considering I’ve slowly been deep cleaning them place room by room. This is just last minute cleaning considering I wasn’t expected to host six extra people in two days.”
The shock of Mac’s care and attention to detail couldn’t win over Jamil’s newfound freedom to be right… and sassy while doing it. “Keep in mind you wouldn’t be the only one having to deal with Vil. His expectations are much higher than my personal standards—”
“Getting there!” MC interrupted again. “It’s not like Vil and whoever else couldn’t magic things better or get things done over at Pomefiore.” However, their fire started to die down with their obvious lack of understanding of magic. Not that Xeir level of intellect ever stopped them from talking out of their ass during debates… even if this wasn’t exactly shaping up to be anything like Debate Club back home.
“Not the point!” Mac built back their steam after thoughtlessly shaking off any internal distractions. “Third of all,” Jamil groaned not-so-quietly, “third of all, you didn’t have to show me how to do it. Nor did you have to continue helping me. There’s only so much I could pay you back in favors and it’s not like you’ll make back the time and energy spent. You’re obviously a bit of a piece of shit but I don’t totally blame…”
Jamil suddenly gave Mac his full attention. He smoothed any emotional tells from his face and readied himself to actively dissect what ever left xeir mouth and any messages in between the lines. The silence prompted Mac to drip extra sincerity as they begin to ramble without thinking.
“… I get why you did what you did. You’re not totally forgiven, but it’s not like I’ll hold a grudge over you forever. Whenever I joke about Winter Break I thought you knew it was just that: a joke.”
The two stared at one another for a few beats. Jamil betrayed nothing that he was thinking, but Mac could practically feel the exasperation flooding off of him in great waves. The disbelief pushing and pulling off of him, despite remaining stone cold to zeir admission. So, of course, they continued with slight for fever:
“Yeah, okay, you held us all prisoner, enslaved via hypnosis your entire dorm, and nearly killed multiple students. Twice.” Mac cringed at their own blunt statement, “… But why would you go as far as you did, if you didn’t care! What your parents, and more specifically your culture, put you through wasn’t fair—but you obviously still love and cherish them!”
At this, he seemed to get even more guarded. It felt patronizing to be hold how he supposedly felt or why he should feel a specific way. They hadn’t been there. They hadn’t grown up as a Viper in the Desert, constantly reminded by Kalim’s Mirage of wealth what he could never have. They didn’t know the FIRST thing about the Scalding Sands—!
“… How do you know anything about my parents? Did Kalim--?!” He choked out infuriated at the mere implication.
“Relax Viper! It’s all in the Secret of The Ooze™”
“What?”
“Never mind…”
The usual absurdity of MC’s references (much to xeir chagrin that no one seemed to understand them) Jamil allowed himself a shadow of a smirk. Right about now they’d drop what they were saying and instead empathize with him over terrible bosses. They’d both fall back into a familiar pattern of quiet understanding while making playful small talk; maybe Xe’d make a remark over how “hellish” the desert temperature is and moan about being “a poor Northern forced into the sun” before dragging them both off to grab an abominably sweet drink that Kalim would still put sugar in. Xe had always been could at mediating with the other students at NCR.
However, they didn’t drop it. They continued to push him… especially when they realized that he expected the conversation to have ended and started to relax. Xey pushed and pushed and pushed. Finally, they had circled back to him rebelling from his status.
“What? You think I’d be Happier staying a lowly servant?! I’d rather cut my own tongue out than remain bending to Kalim’s will for the rest of my days.” He huffed, still not stopping his assault on the pile of laundry in front of him.
A frustrated sigh left Mac as Xey tried to get their point across, “THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M SAYING!… Obviously, you don’t love being forced into child labor or having to pretend to be something you’re not, but that doesn’t mean you’re totally being honest with yourself either. Rebelling adolescents often do a complete 180 of who they once presented as in an extreme action to feel validated.”
Jamil scoffed in indignation at the impromptu therapy session he’d been forced into.
“Just because you were forced to lie sometimes as ‘Servant Jamil’ doesn’t mean those memories or feelings weren’t authentic!”
“My Childhood, my Pride, my ENTIRE LIFE was stolen from me before I could even open my eyes, Mac! Who could cherish that sort of future?”
“I’m not disputing that! I’m not trying, in any way, to imply that what you went through didn’t fucking suck. But just because you’ve started saying the quiet part out loud doesn’t mean you’re being totally honest either. Switching one mask for another just means nothing has changed but your ability to bitch about-it to the kid you literally Grew Up With, Jamil.” A tired resignation was growing in their eyes as they headed to the end of xeir rant.
It was clear MC was starting to speak in circles and xey weren’t going to be able to get through to them. A heavy weight sunk deep in their chest, slowly sliding to xeir stomach the more he misunderstood the magic-less student. I saw him drown in the depths of his own helplessness and self-pity, but even after he’s been pulled out it’s like he can’t help but dive back in for a swim. It was a suffocating thought while Mac watched as Jamil once again went stone-faced… Like what he was about to say would be his final shield before walking away. It’s a shame that the Ramshackle Resident had become too used to throwing bombs over walls and blowing verbal shields to smithereens after months of being stuck in Twisted Wonderland.
“I’m not sugarcoating or bowing down to anyone anymore. I won’t bite my tongue. I won’t put on a Happy Face to Kalim’s idiotic, half-thought out ideas again. I’m slowly gaining my freedom, something you clearly don’t understand. Just because you’re as blind as he is doesn’t mean anything! What more could you want from me?!” He hissed his final insult before finally stepping away from his station. Not leaving the room, he aggressively got himself a cup of water from one of the sink and gulped the unfiltered water down.
“Just because you’re not hiding your bitter, knee-jerk reaction from an unfair world doesn’t mean you aren’t still hiding away and lying about your more vulnerable emotions.” Mac whispered in an emotionless tone. “Cutting a part of your past off and pretending it was never there is doing yourself a disservice and lying to those that still care about you… And there sure-as-shit isn’t much that I hate more than a Fucking Liar.”
. . . . . .
The lacy doilies sat in a sudsy basin, left forgotten as the two students stood a mere paces from each other—both maintaining an uncomfortably intense eye contact. The sloshing thump of the washers and stirring hum of driers harmonizing were the only song to accompany the two’s stare down. A short hiccup as Mac took a drawn out breath was the only reaction between the two of them. The combined heat of Scarabia’s sun (barely past 10am) and the humidity of continued use of machinery didn’t help the suffocating air in the wide laundry room. Not to mention the loud, stifling silence to boot.
MC usually held back such honest commentary (not that they weren’t blunt) unless Xe deemed it necessary: think high stakes and a sense of urgent drama. But something about Jamil and Kalim’s situation reminded them of himself. The two’s intertwined dance of class, history, loyalty and betrayal, friendship and loss, and such overwhelming guilt reminded the dimension hoping stranger of home. Whatever that meant.
But this was no time to get lost in their own problems and Trauma’s. They’d went too far (again) and that means xey should be the bigger person (again) and deescalate the situation before he hated them (AGAIN). Which means, MC would be the one to break the silence and run away again.
“Ya’ know what? Grim’s probably burned the school down already. Don’t worry about,” Ze gestured blindly to the numerous stations they’d started, “this mess. I’ll rope my little Rat Gremlin and the Freshies into finishing this up. Hell, I could probably convince Rugs to pitch in for lunch or something. Bully the Music Club with helping in exchange of random sheet music I still remember from home.”
Their rambles became more spastic as they noticed Mr. Sugar, Spice and Not-So-Nice break out of his own trance and try to reply. “Seriously! Just enjoy the break… Not that it’s my place or responsibility to be butting in anyway. I will be back in, like, 10 minutes and from here-on-out minding my own damn business. Sorry. Whatever. See you sometime after Sunday, I guess?” Their entire monoluge Mac was slowly backing out of the room before turning around in xeir spot and just short of sprinting their way out of the dorm. A few passerby Scarabia students stopped to eavesdrop on xeir muttering… watch them leave.
Without getting a word in Jamil stood unmoving, watching the Ramshackle Perfect leave swifter than the desert wind shifting the dunes. Almost on auto-pilot, he simply left to go back to his room and do as he was told; enjoy his break. His day off. The day he could do what he liked and didn’t necessarily have to prioritize work. A day he spent working to help and assist the pitiful, magic-less loser that was dropped-kicked into another reality and forced to play nice with a University filled with overpowered and hormonal teenagers while having no way home… And in return was insulted, psychoanalyzed, and thrown aside before he could get a word in edgewise.
“Son of a STREET RAT!!!!!” It was clear he’d need a few hours to calm down before he could even think of trying to enjoy the rest of his Saturday off.
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falconcoast · 1 year
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taverns and tcg | cyno x reader
day six. holiday party ft. cyno 
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event masterlist
cyno is stuck at a horrible staff party before winter break. you are stuck at a horrible staff party before winter break before winter break. as the only two bearable people at the party, you tough it out together. 
a/n: LATE AS HELL IM AWARE AND KAEYA’S EDITION OF THIS WILL BE OUT SOON I PROMISE
tags: brief alcohol mention (none consumed)
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cyno knew that coming to the staff holiday party was a bad idea.
he didn’t really like the akademiya’s staff in the first place, so he wasn’t sure why he still came. simple conversations behind closed doors came forward, resulting in bitter discussion. the eggnog was spiked, and lips were looser than leaflet papers on a windy day. and there were an overwhelming amount of people crammed into the tiny tavern. if he could, he would escape into the night and peacefully begin the akademiya’s winter break.
but he held himself back for one reason.
“cyno!” a familiar voice called out in the crowd. snapping his head around he recognized the voice as you, one of the librarians in the house of daena and one of the only coworkers he could stand. something fluttered in his chest. “hey, hey! didn’t expect you to be here. parties don’t really seem to be your thing.”
“they aren’t,” he replied. “i was planning to leave soon.”
“oh, is that so?” you asked, tilting your head. “come here and sit. you’re the only sufferable one around here.”
he smiled, taking a seat next to you by the couch. “i don’t think staying for a few more minutes could hurt,” he conceded.
after settling beside you, you both stared out at the rest of the staff. it was like all of the decorum that the akademiya always sought to preserve was slipping through the cracks. swears were being exchanged rapidly. “they’re without composure tonight,” you observed.
“they’ve been grading all day, everyday for the last four weeks. i knew that they would be off the rails, just not by this much.”
“well, nothing we can do about that,” you shrugged. “it’s good entertainment. anyways, how have you been? i haven’t been able to see you much recently. i mean, i guess it’s technically part of your job to be out and about so much, but still… i guess what i’m trying to say is…i missed you.”
missed him? for some reason, cyno felt like he was going to be the next one to lose his composure. his cheeks warmed, and he knew it was not from the compact space. “i missed you as well,” he stifled out after a moment. “nothing as crazy as what happened this summer. most of it has just been chasing down plagiarists and accompanying a few important scholars to port ormos. nothing significant.”
“oh, is that so?” you said. “well, i think it’s a very important job cyno. not just for the praise and glory you get from the sages, but for the reason that you preserve the sanctity of knowledge. people who lie and cheat and steal to get work done take the purpose of learning and destroy it. it makes me so mad to think about, which is why i’m always grateful for the matra.”
he paused, taking in your words. people had sung his praises for a long time now, and it was so common that he would brush people off before they could even finish. but with you, it was different. in fact, he almost wanted to ask you if you could keep telling him that he was doing a good job.
“um, cyno? do i need to call the hospital? are you alright?” you asked, snapping him out of his daze.
sitting up a little straighter, he blinked rapidly. “that won’t be necessary. your compliment was just nice to hear,” he replied. “apologies for worrying you. so, how has your semester been?”
“not much on my end either,” you shrugged. “we’ve been just waiting on an order of texts to come in from liyue. they’re ancient writings from the adepti, and i know that the harvatatan scholars have been itching to get their hands on it.”
you continued talking about all the books that you were receiving, but cyno became slightly distracted. your eyes were lit up with passion, a rarity in the akademiya nowadays. you really cared about your work as a librarian rather than just wanting to climb the ranks.
he watched your hand motions flutter about, another show of your love for your work. your voice, although it went in one ear and out the other, was sweet and warm. you were so different from anyone else in the akademiya, and his heart thrummed a little faster at the thought.
“...and we also, although accidentally, got a big order of tcg cards. i don’t know how it ended up in our hands and there’s no return address, so i guess we’re stuck with them,” you mentioned, making him perk up. you smiled. “oh, do you like tcg? i’m not very familiar with it, but it looks like a fun game to play.”
“it’s certainly an interesting game,” cyno answered, trying to downplay his excitement.
“you’ll have to teach me sometime,” you grinned. “a lot of scholars play it in the library. i wanna play with them, if possible.”
“i could teach you right now, if you’d like,” cyno replied instantly before immediately feeling his cheeks rush with heat. clearing his throat, he backtracked. “if you’d like that, of course.”
“i’d love to!” you smiled. “this party is getting boring anyways. and, seeing as i have the key to the library, i can get a pack of cards from up there. it’s a date, then. i’ll get my coat and then we can head out.”
standing, you walked away from him. cyno was motionless on the couch, blinking once. twice. after a moment, his face broke out into a grin as he came to a conclusion.
first, he would be escaping this party to play a much more entertaining game of tcg.
second, you had just asked him on a date and he had never been more excited.
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rainy-mars · 1 year
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Iterator OCs? More likely than you think!
So the brainRot just keeps growing- Anyway, introducing my new 8 Iterator OCs!
A note for all of these: I used a base by JuniperRainz and edited it slightly for all of them, so credit to them for the base!!
Starting off we’ve got: Three Flames Intertwined, he/him. TFI is an Iterator who’s somewhat given up on the Great Problem, but still checks it out occasionally, mostly when bored. He’s not one to hold punches and is quite sarcastic, and always in the mood to learn as much drama as he can, which he typically gets through his platonic partner Shifting Borealis of Comets. TFI also dabbles in some memes occasionally, finding humor in the funny little things younger Ancients used to come up with. He doesn’t miss the Ancients, but rather hopes that every one of them is happy, if there’s anything left of them now that they’ve all ascended.
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Next is Three Chains Unbroken, he/him. TCU is a bitter and cold Iterator, despising his creators due to what they did to him. When he was first primed, some part of his code had been fudged and he didn’t recognize the Ancients who were in his chamber, instead deeming them a threat. As such he attempted to send them into the next cycle. Ever since this incident he was stripped of most of his abilities as an Iterator, many of his systems far out of reach, and three chains keeping him from even moving around in his chamber without trouble. He believed the Ancients wildly overreacted (which they did!), and began pondering a way to free himself, not just from the fate of iterating the same old problem, but from being an Iterator entirely. Eventually he lured two lizards into his chamber, a pink lizard and a red lizard. From those two he began a long project, resulting in the creation of a lizard roughly the same as a Train Lizard, the creature being tamed from existence due to his constant presence. The lizard broke the chains and ended up destroying anything that tied him strictly to his chamber. Ever since that, he’s roamed the lands free of his past duties, hanging out with the lizards and ever so slowly forming a group of freed Iterators, ones he had heard the plights of and offered the chance to abandon their posts.
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Shifting Borealis of Comets, they/them. SBC is TFI’s platonic partner and a lover of all things mysterious, though they have a problem of subsequentially solving the mystery and ruining the fun for themself. Even despite this minor plight, SBC has no qualms with their place in the world, though is curious about what could be beyond their fixed location. Eventually, through another Iterator, they discover two Iterators free of their cans and grows envious, wanting to explore the world for themself. After some trial and error and a harshly failed experiment, they free themself and instantly travel to TFI, intending to either free TFI or stay with him. Both end up happening and they’re happily exploring the world, though there’s something SBC won’t tell TFI. That failed experiment, well it was rather clingy, and not in any good ways.
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Still Waters Flowing, she/her. SWF was built at a period of time where much production of Iterators was coming to a halt, due to lack of resources. As such her superstructure was built significantly lower to the ground than many other Iterators, and quickly deemed abandoned when rains from nearby Iterators still cast her structure into shadow. To this date her can is completely submerged, lacking any legs or any puppet, and infested with Rot. The humid environment ended up having been the perfect breeding ground for the invasive organism, it tearing away at her communications and functions until nothing more was heard of SWF. She got just lucky enough though, the rot eating away at her umbilical and ending up corroding the metal to the point where she was able to just.. Get up and leave. SWF abandoned her superstructure, collecting a massive hoard of pearls from whatever communications she’d shared through transporting the objects with eel lizards and salamanders, and befriended the nearby scavenger population. Eventually she encountered TCU and with a small amount of trial and error, convinced the scavs that he’s a friend. She still hangs out with the tribe she found, teaching many of them about Iterator language, and in turn knowing how the scavs communicate well.
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I’ll add the other four in the next post of mine bc oh boy this is long already lmao- Hope you enjoy these funkies!
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blrbaileys · 7 months
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Mob Vote and Minecraft Updates in General
*Edit:* Warning - Extensive rambling with no through line or halfway decent structure
Idk, I need a place to put my thoughts.
The original mob vote concept was cool, 4 unique and honestly kinda challenging looking mobs, we can vote on which gets added. I'm actually a fan of Phantoms, despite them being a nusiance to most I think having flying mobs is cool and they should add more mobs that just fly about.
And I actually liked the follow ups where the mobs were tied into biomes because it wasn't *about* the mobs, they were just nice tie ins. But at the point we're at now they have to force us to be excited about the "features" these mobs add and while they are somewhat cool features, they aren't really much in isolation.
The Sniffer could've been much cooler bundled with an extensive update to say, the Jungle or Desert biomes, or an actually interesting archeology update.
Or in the Glow Squid case, its a weird single use feature, they could have easily bundled the glowing sign effect into Glowstone Dust.
None of this is to say adding more mobs is the wrong choice, I think the opposite, we need more mobs which just, don't have features attached.
Ambient mobs, fireflys, birds flying overhead, snakes in the Desert, rats around structures, more variety in the oceans (actual variety, the differnt combos of Tropical Fish are a nice touch, but the mob is the same regardless)
Then as you do updates, you can add features to them where it makes sense, but tying the feature to the mob from the get go and then forcing a vote on it just means less features in the long run. And I'm not unaware as to why they do it this way, the mob vote gets people talking, I mean I'm talking about it right now so I guess I'm not helping but whatever at this point we are half way through the vote anyway.
The chatter, even that against the mob vote conceptually pushes Minecraft into our feeds, even the BBC are reporting on Minecraft LIVE and the mob vote cause its a story now.
I will say on a slightly other note, the whole "modders can make this in one day argument" is kinda flat. Modders usually have to make it for one version in one language on one platform. Mojang have to consider localisation, cross-compatibility, actually conceptualising the mob idea, etc. That's not to say Modders aren't incredibly hard working, they usually are, but if you're looking to call Mojang lazy I wouldn't do it based off just that.
This is already a long af post with little coherency but we're rolling with it.
I think really what I want to see, as a player since like, 2012, is Mojang just to make bolder moves in regards to the updates. I want them to change core gameplay mechanics and just, see what happens. And yeah last time was 1.9 and it divided the community into two distinct parts that exist today but we need something like that alongside 2 new wood types.
In regards to recent/planned changes to villagers and the netherite upgrade template, its clear they are trying to lengthen the "midgame" of Minecraft to capitalize on how most people play (that being they have a 2-3 week fixation on the game each year and then stop) This sucks, don't strech your midgame, extend your endgame.
Add more powerful mobs in a new dimension, make a place where even netherite armour feels like iron. I have no doubt it'd be a nightmare for new players so make it difficult to get to (like the totally-not-a-portal-frame in the ancient citys) make the overall gameplay loop of Minecraft longer.
I'm going to stop here for now, if I'm bored/procrastinating studies enough I should actually format some of these thoughts into something.
Anyway, boycott the mob vote, its unlikely to do anything, they truly don't have to care, but people made posters and played Poor Mans Poison over them, can you really still vote after that?
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helloquotemyfoot · 9 months
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Book Backlog Busting Reading Challenge!
I've managed to read a lot this week because of doing very little else and so I have a fair bit to report!
Winter's Heart by Robert Jordan (Wheel of Time #9). FINISHED. I am in what is supposedly prime slog territory but I honestly don't see it. There's stuff going on throughout this whole book and it keeps up the excitement and intrigue the whole way through. This is in contrast to Jordan's previous books where I have constantly felt like most sub plots could have been condensed to far fewer chapters. I mean it's still Jordan's heavily introspective style, it's not a fast paced book, but the activity is constant. I finished this in 4 days which is by far the fastest yet for any of the books. Loved it.
New Spring by Robert Jordan (Wheel of Time prequel). FINISHED. Meanwhile this book is definitely in the grand tradition of Jordan 'taking 12 chapters to say what could have been accomplished in 3'. Don't get me wrong, I loved the worldbuilding in this book, and the opportunity to get Lan POV and younger Moiraine was a sheer joy. But the actual plot here was very, very slim. In the editions I'm reading New Spring is about 2/3 of the length of Winter's Heart but it absolutely does not have 2/3 of the plot content. I hope Jordan doesn't return to this form in the subsequent main series books; it was nice for a prequel as a diversion but I don't think I could cope with it again for a 800+ page novel.
The Road to Little Dribbling by Bill Bryson. FINISHED. This is a typical Bryson book, which is absolutely a compliment. It's full of fun facts, hidden wonders of the British countryside, and Bryson's wry but nonetheless warm humour.
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Now as promised I did start The Dark Is Rising Sequence by Susan Cooper and so far I've made it through the first two books. (Also, look at these editions! Aren't they beautiful?)
Over Sea, Under Stone. FINISHED. Honestly I was a little disappointed by this one, it's a perfectly fine example of the children's adventure books of the time period, with slightly more menace, but nothing extraordinary. I was worried the series wouldn't live up to how I had remembered them from childhood, except...
The Dark Is Rising. FINISHED. Now this is why I fell in love with this series. This book instantly transports you with a sense of otherworldliness, making the ancient battle between the Dark and the Light feel real and powerful. Cooper's imagined world really comes to life in this book and I'm excited to continue it. I would strongly recommend starting with this book if you are thinking of reading the series, and then doing Over Sea, Under Stone as a prequel. The first book honestly makes more sense that way anyway.
And now, for my next trick...
Of course I will be continuing with The Dark Is Rising Sequence, which I expect to finish, they are children's books so they're easy reads. I don't expect the next Wheel of Time books will arrive for another two weeks so I will probably pick out some fiction books at random.
As for historical books, I have a bunch of books about the Reformation I've been eyeing up, but I'm not quite ready to get into them just yet, so I'm picking up a relatively short one in the meantime.
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The King is Dead by Suzannah Lipscomb. No this is not yet another book I bought just because it looked pretty, why would you say that? This is honestly a time period which, like any child who's been through the British school system, I know quite a lot about already, so I'm not expecting to get a lot out of it, but I'm always willing to be surprised!
Until next time...
88 books remaining!
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snowdice · 2 years
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Creased Hoodies (Chapter 1: Interrupted Summer Plans) [Folds in Time Universe]
Fandom: Sander Sides
Relationships: Logan/Virgil, Janus/Patton (background), Remus & Roman  (background)
Characters:
Main: Logan, Virgil
Appear: Patton, Roman
Mentioned: Janus, Remus
Summary: Virgil just wanted to go on his planned summer research trip to do an anthropological study in 2005 America. However, when he is taken off course by an unknown enemy, he ends up stranded in the summer of 2018 with no way to get back the the 44rd century. Luckily, 2018 happens to be where a certain illegal time agency is based, and he might have an in with one of its agents.
This is the intermission for the story Folds in Paper. It takes place between Folds in Paper Book 1 and Book 2. It also takes place after the first 5 chapter of “Messages for a Hacker” which are side stories in the universe. Check all of this and more out on my Folds in Time Master Post.
Chapter Summary: Patton meets someone at the farmers market.
Patton goes to the farmers market.
Notes: Time travel AU
This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.
Patton was a fan of the summer months which was why he was a little unhappy that he’d be missing a good chunk of them. Though, he guessed, he didn’t so much miss them as misplace them. He had stopped by to tell Roman and Logan what had happened with getting trapped in pre-history with Janus and why he’d be missing for a good chunk of time over the next few months to make up for it. He was staying with his now technically younger roommates for a week or two to recuperate before hopping forward a bit. He’d duck in for his mom’s birthday and his grandpa’s yearly fishing trip (Though Patton was of the opinion that he did not really want to eat fresh fish for a least a little while yet.) but would mostly be skipping forward a whole two months.
He’d land in early August which was still summer, but he’d miss most of June and July, and that was sad, but at least apples would be fresh around that time. Plus, fall was his second favorite season anyway.
Yet, for now, he got to relax a little bit back in late May. Logan had finished poking and prodding him to make sure he wasn’t sick with any really bad ancient disease yesterday, so he was officially allowed to leave the apartment. Since it was Saturday, he and Roman had decided to go grab some stuff from the recently opened Farmers Market.
Roman had gotten bored with the vegetable shopping and had split off to go look at the arts and crafts (and, knowing him, probably pastries) that the market had to offer, leaving Patton to finish up getting fresh ingredients for the week. He may have also been grabbing a little bit extra so he could make frozen meals at some point this week. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Roman and Logan to feed themselves in his absence, (Okay, well, he did not trust Logan and Roman often got distracted.) but he did want to leave something nice for them while he was away. He knew he’d missed them while he’d been gone.
He wandered down the main path through the market. Most days this was a side street off Main, but on Saturdays in the summer, it was blocked off to cars and hosted a large number of stands selling different things, mostly produce. In a small park off to one side, there was a live band set up and down the way a bit there were food trucks selling prepared food to people who got peckish while wandering the stands. He mostly tried to stay away from those because they almost exclusively sold unhealthy and overpriced food.
But gosh was it good food.
And Logan wasn’t here to stop him…
Well, it wouldn’t hurt to go have a look at what they had this morning. He turned away from the vegetable stands he was supposed to be shopping at and walked towards the parking lot lined with food trucks. It was, as predicted, mostly food that was horribly bad for you. Most of the things there were sweets, though some had actual meal food such as walking tacos and grilled cheeses. One was even serving pancakes with fresh berries with a sign telling you where you could buy the same berries elsewhere in the market. Patton’s eyes though, went straight past anything most people would consider actual food and landed on small stand with the words “Fresh Donuts and Fried Oreos for Sale.”
Now, he knew for a fact that he could only eat one, maybe two if he stretched it, fried Oreos at a time before he got sick to his stomach. They were just so sweet and greasy, but they sold them in packs of three. Hmm…
He looked around. “Would you like one?” he asked an older man with hair just starting to grey who’d been walking between the stands.
The man stopped, seemingly surprised at being addressed. He blinked at him in surprise. “What?” he asked.
“A fried Oreo,” Patton explained. “I love them but eating more than two makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Just… don’t eat the last one,” the man suggested. He was shifting back and forth on his feet.
“You obviously don’t know me,” Patton said. “Anyway. Free fried Oreo?”
“I…uh… yeah, sure whatever.”
“Great!” Patton said, turning back to the employee waiting. “3 please!” They had already been dunked in hot oil while the employee had been waiting for Patton, so they were out within seconds, hot and fresh. Patton thanked her and turned towards the man. He grabbed a napkin to pick one of the Oreos out of the packet and handed it to him. “Here you go!”
“Thanks,” he said with an awkward half smile.
“No problem!” Patton replied.
“Well anyway, I’m really in the middle of something, so I ought to be going now.”
“Oh, okay, bye!” Patton said, but he was already gone. Patton shrugged and reached into his bag of fried Oreos as he started walking in the opposite direction from the one the man took towards the park and the live music there. He’d go take a quick walk around the little park listening to the music to maybe work off the Oreos he was eating and then go back to his shopping.
He was about halfway between the food trucks and the makeshift stage when there was a loud screeching sound which he at first attributed to mic feedback, until he felt a kind of swoopy feeling in his gut like after eating two corndogs before going on a rollercoaster even though Logan had told him not to. Someone was time traveling and not your gentle popping here or there safe time travel. No, something was wrong.
There were popping sounds like those little mini popping firecrackers that kids threw at each other’s feet on the Fourth of July. People near the stage jerked away with little startled shrieks, attributing the sounds to something going wrong with the equipment, but it wasn’t actually coming from the stage, not exactly.
It was coming from somewhere behind the stage. Patton made note of the fact that it was so close to the musical equipment almost as though whatever was happening was intentionally set up to make people think it was an electrical problem. He picked up his pace a bit, but not too much as he didn’t want anyone to notice him doing so.
By the time he made it there, the noises had stopped, and the feeling of wrong time travel had settled into an annoying hum. The people around and on the stage were starting to settle, though clearly the musicians were confused.
Patton was confused too. What was that? Was it over? Why did something still feel off? He couldn’t scan the area to check what was wrong. He hadn’t brought the timepiece to walk to the local farmer’s market. He usually didn’t wear it about his own time for fear carrying it around frivolously may lead to disaster. Pickpockets snatching time travel devices off of the unaware had caused enough undue trauma, thank you very much.
So, he had only his own eyes and ears to work with. Yet, despite his experience, he didn’t see anything particularly amiss. He kept his eyes out for an object that might have caused the disturbance or clothing that didn’t quite match the times, but he saw nothing.
After a few minutes of slipping his way through the crowds, he finally decided to give up for now. He’d go back to the apartment and tell Logan something had happened. He should be able to figure out something. He weaved his way out of the crowd of people and back onto the sidewalk that surrounded the little concert area. Yet, as he was about to turn away, he heard an unfamiliar voice call out to him.
“Pat!” it called, and Patton turned to look at a man speed walking towards him in an inconspicuous black hoody and blue jeans. “You’re Pat,” he said when he was closer, his tone somewhere between a statement and a question.
Patton tilted his head at the stranger with a frown. “Do you know me?”  he asked.
“Not really,” he replied, “but I remembered your face.”
“What?” Patton asked.
He raised an arm and let the hoody sleeve slip down just a touch. Patton could detect a bit of panic in his eyes, and he figured out why when a timepiece much like Janus’s but not quite as fancy was revealed. “It’s broken. Please help.”
Want to read more? Click below!
Part 2
Folds in Time Universe Master Post
My Main Masterpost
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Date of origin: Sept. 12 2022
Lambada
Warnings: nothing, be very aware that this is directly related to edit audios so there are maybe two points plus the name that might remind you of songs, also I was tired of going back and reading my old work and wanted to share my more recent stories. Enjoy!
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I ran. I ran, I ran, I ran. 
There's nothing else I could do. I went a little too far this time, trying to protect myself and them, and now I was in trouble. I didn't manage to make it to the forest but that was probably for the best, however I did make it to a field. 
A wide open space where I could easily see the small army of heroes chasing after me, NM at the front leading the charge. The pouring rain made it foggy and I had to go slower so I didn't slip, but I had no clue where I was going next. 
I couldn't do this, I bit off a bit more than I could chew again, I needed help. I gained some distance but kept running to keep it. 
"Anath? Could use a little assistance here!" I shouted into the openness. I had to slow down but kept moving. 
She didn't respond instantaneously like usual. Shit shit shit. 
"Anath?" I called out. 
Nothing. 
"Constell? Coco? Anybody?" I yelled into the storm, trying to keep moving but slipping and needing to stop for a bit for oxygen. Nobody was responding. 
I started jogging to get away, having a considerable distance from the people chasing me but barely enough for me to have anything close to comfort. 
"Hello?" I called out. I slipped and fell, and was forced to face the fact I was probably alone right now as I turned around and started backing away from the horde of angry people. 
"Lambada, Lambada!" I screamed in a last attempt to save myself, hoping, praying someone would come help me as the heroes began closing in. 
Then a sudden warmth hit me, and knocked most of my pursuers back, and the surrounding area was shrouded in a warm orange-tan light that drove away the storm but not the fog and dried me off. I looked up and saw Merphine in all her 20' tall Ethereal glory, protecting me. 
An echoey growl sounded, seemingly coming from every side of the surrounding openness but definitely caused by her. She shrunk herself back down to mortal form which was still tall, 6' 3", and started yelling and cursing in Ancient Geldyrn and she stormed towards NM. 
I could make out most of it, but didn't need to understand her words to know she was angry. She brought out her claws as she stalked closer and forced them onto NM's chest like a threat, shoving him back slightly, not going in far enough to hurt anything but definitely able to reach in and pull out his heart in the blink of an eye. 
I wasn't the only one who could hear but was the only one who could understand her threat, 'Leave them alone you asshole or you'll have to go through me, and if you go through me you'll be tasting stardust and being burned by plasma before I ever get the chance of ripping you the shreds with my bare hands'. At least, that was the rough translation. 
"Sayul," I weakly shouted over to her, basically asking 'you're really doing this? Really?' but in less of an angry way and more of a tired way. 
"Sayul," she repeated, confirming. 
"Sayul?" I asked again, just to make sure. 
"Sayul," she confirmed again, then went off calling NM a 'fucking coward with no sense of dignity' which I wasn't about to argue against. 
We repeated the 'sayul' thing again, and this time after her second confirmation she started getting even angrier than before, her claws growing slightly, and her hair and body beginning to levitate while her powers were put on standby, and she seemed determined to kill him for his violations against me both here and now and for the ones not from this timeline. 
I ended up using a small amount of strength I had left to create vines around them both and pull them back and away from each other before anything really happened. 
"Just get me home, please," I begged, tired and ready for this to be over. 
Her features softened and she came towards me, so I let down the vines. She lifted me into the air with her powers before she came within 10 feet of me and I laid down against the platform of stars she had made for me. 
"Don't worry, we'll get you home and healed up, I'm sorry I was the only one who could hear your cries for help while the communications system was down," she said. 
I didn't care too much, but it was nice to know I hadn't been ignored or forgotten. Her presence washed over me the closer she got, so comforting. 
I was almost asleep by the time she had me directly in her arms and brought me to the Empires, laying me down in my bed there. I felt her presence fade, and Anath's join me as I finally fell asleep, too exhausted to care about any consequences or cover-ups back in my universe, I was safe with them here and now and that's all that mattered.
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bylightofdawn · 11 months
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WIP Sunday
I almost missed WIP Sunday two weeks in a row, that's not going to do. Today has been a really bad pain day. It's been raining most of the day and that's really caused my joint pain to flare up pretty bad and on top of it I slept weirdly and messed up my neck and have had a headache pretty much all day long.
So I haven't accomplished much of anything but been a useless lump all day long. So I cannot speak for the quality of this snippet.
Uhhh for context, this is from the post-desertion Cody fic I've been writing this week. He's been on a run for over a month, his blaster wound he got on the Desix campaign has become infected and is now dealing with it turning septic. But when you're a wanted, unhoused and undocumented clone living in a homeless camp, your options are pretty limited.
It's pretty much endless Cody whump. Super rough, and definitely needs to be cleaned up and edited etc. And with this I am going to put my poor laptop away and collapse. I got my new ram and cooling fan but just have not felt well enough to even attempt to operate on it so that might be a project for tomorrow after work or maybe next Wednesday which is my next day off.
I'm calling it an early night because I really feel like rubbish.
Within a few days, the wound had begun to show signs of infection. It was tender at first, and then the skin around it grew red and warm to the touch. He’d seen enough infected battlefield wounds to know how dangerous they could get if untreated.
His options were pretty limited. Some back-alley ‘medics’ were willing to trade with those undocumented transients such as Cody though he tried to avoid drawing any attention to himself if he could manage. It was hard when your face was one of the most infamous and recognizable in the galaxy.
Of course, in these trying times, many clones were apparently deserting just like Cody had, so he’d heard rumors of other brothers passing through the city's seedy underbelly.
He’d also heard rumors of certain gangs turning them in for the bounty the Empire offered for rogue clones, which is why he made sure to keep his head down and not draw too much attention to himself.
Unfortunately, the infection finally got to such a state that he knew he would have to seek medical treatment because the wound was now an angry red with equally angry lines tracing out from it. Which he knew was a tell-tale sign of septicemia, as though the body aches and fever he was battling wasn’t enough to tell him he had one hell of an infection.
Following the suggestion of the ancient Bothan who slept nearby, he forced his aching body into action as he sought out the particular shady-looking Dug with a booth filled with seemingly meaningless junk. He eyed Cody with mean, jaded eyes, expecting he might try and nick some of his wares.
“What do you want, clone?”
“I’m looking for some antibiotics or bacta for an infection.” Cody knew better than to potentially point out his weak, exploitable injury. It was a little alarming that after a month of no shaving and sporting a no doubt slightly ragged beard and the weathered cap he wore that he was still so instantly recognizable as a clone, but that was the least of his worries at this point.
The Dug’s flat, unfriendly gaze didn’t waver as he maneuvered himself behind his cramped and cluttered space. “No antibiotics, and bacta is hard to come by down here.”
Cody offered his own flat stare now. “I guess I can try somewhere else then.”
“Heh, good luck. No one has the stock I have. And something tells me you’re not up for walking from here to next ten levels up to the next market” The Dug scoffed with a sneer and neatly pulled a battered box containing a tube of bacta gel.
“Fifty credits.”
“Fifty?! That thing goes for maybe fifteen on the surface brand new.” That was the price of medical grade bacta and was a full one-quarter of his entire amount of carefully garnered pool of credits.
“Unless you want to go to the surface and deal with dodging all those Corrie Guard. Maybe I should comm them now, report I found one of their wayward meat droids all the way down here, huh?” The Dug sneered at him with a calculating look in his eyes. “Maybe they’ll take you to a hospital before they execute you?”
He laughed nastily and waved the box containing the bacta in Cody’s direction in a lazy manner. “Unless you have something worth trading, huh?” Then, those avarice-filled eyes fell upon the blaster secured at Cody’s side and the clone commander automatically covered it with his hand.
Somehow, he hadn’t had it stolen off of his person, and it was his sole and best source of defense against the predators that roamed the tenement camp. If he lost that, he lost all hope of fending off the bottom-feeders that picked on the weakest and easiest targets amongst the unhoused sentients that made up their ramshackle temporary community.
It was tantamount to a death sentence at this point.
Cody dug into the various pockets he’d sewn into his clothing and pulled out the precious credits needed to pay for the bacta.
“If it doesn’t work, I’m coming back here and shooting you.” He threatened flatly.
“I doubt you’ll be in any condition to do anything if it doesn’t worry, save your empty threats, clone.” The Dug gave another grating-sounding laugh as it handed over the bacta and secreted Cody’s hard-earned credits away. “Now go, before I decide the puny bounty on your head is worth the effort.”
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fific7 · 3 years
Text
Evil Twins - Part 1
Billy Russo & Aleksander Morozova x Reader
Summary: When two worlds which have already collided then collide with yours - that’s an explosive situation.
A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly a mix of fluff and angst with quite a lot of lemon zest 🍋 My Fantasy Punisher/Shadow and Bone crossover AU.
Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some drinking & swearing.
*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.
(My photo edit)
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New York City
Billy Russo awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed and grabbing for his Glock. What the hell? Thunder was rumbling loudly overhead and he sighed, putting the gun back under his pillow and laying his head back down. It was probably the bright flash of the lightning followed by the beginning of the thunderclap that had awakened him.
He was just closing his eyes again when he spotted something, only vaguely visible in the dim light from outside, in the corner of his room. It was…. swirling?
Grabbing his gun again, he sat up and pointed the Glock at the corner. It was getting bigger. “You’ve got two seconds to show yourself before I blow your fucking head off,” he announced, calmly.
He squinted a bit to get a better look but it didn’t make much difference. What the fuck was it?! Smoke? He decided he had no choice and leant over, switching on the wall-mounted bedside light.
The… smoke cloud?… was still increasing, becoming bigger and blacker with every second. Then he saw the vaguest silhouette of a tall figure within it, moving towards him. He leapt out of bed, on the far side of it so it was between him and whatever the fuck this was.
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Aleksander Morozova - or General Kirigan, the Darkling, the Black Heretic, the Starless Saint, whichever of his many names he decided to call himself at any given point in time - could see a tall figure brandishing some kind of strange gun at him as he began to emerge from the swirling shadows.
Following certain unfortunate incidents - including a huge and furious argument with his darling mother - he’d decided it would be politic to get out of Ravka for a while, much as he didn’t really want to. But this wasn’t where he should’ve ended up. What was this place?
He emerged completely from the shadows and immediately felt something bounce off his kefta. He heard a ‘ding’ and looked down at the wooden floor at his feet. A bullet.
Looking quickly back up, he saw that the man opposite him was glaring at him, eyes wide and unbelieving, gun still pointing at him. He also realised that looking at this man was like looking in a mirror.
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Billy was dumbfounded. He’d just shot the fucker! And the bullet had bounced off him. Fuck. He threw the gun down onto the bed and slid his hand under his other pillow, pulling out his Ka-Bar. No way he’d get past that.
He took a moment to have a good look at the dude opposite him.
Dressed in riding boots and some kinda long black tunic thing, with a black fur-collared full-length cape over it. What a freak! Was he a goth or something? But then he realised something even freakier…. this guy looked exactly like him.
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The two of them were still contemplating each other, when finally Billy spoke. “Who are you? And what are you?”
Aleksander laughed. “Usually it’s me asking those questions.” Billy huffed, “You’re in my fuckin’ apartment, so just answer them!” He saw the guy draw himself up, and he said, “I am Aleksander Morozova, also known as General Kirigan, commander of the Second Army of the Grisha.”
“Means fuck all to me,” grunted Billy. “One name not enough for you? And why do you look like me? Are you some kinda shapeshifter or somethin’?”
“I have many names because I am centuries old. And I don’t know what a… shapeshifter?…is,” said the other, “…but I am the Shadow Summoner. And who are you? Where is this?” he waved a hand round at the apartment.
Billy scoffed, “Centuries old?!! Oh fuck off. You’re the same age as me by the looks of ya! I’m Billy Russo, ex-US Marine Lieutenant and now CEO of Anvil. That’s a security company, mainly staffed by ex-military vets. And this….” he also waved his hand around, “…is my penthouse apartment in New York City.”
Aleksander shook his head, “I have never heard of that place.”
Billy eye-rolled, “How can you not have heard of New York?!” he asked, incredulously. “And what the fuck is a Shadow Summoner?”
“It’s becoming obvious we are from two different worlds. I seem to have been diverted from my intended course, I don’t know why,” shrugged Aleksander. “Well maybe it’s time you took off to wherever it is you were headed for in the first place,” said Billy.
“It seems that I have been brought here for some specific reason,” replied Aleksander, “and it also seems I cannot leave for the moment, I have already tried.” He waved both hands around, firstly extending and then curling up his fingers, watching them closely as he did but it was clear that nothing at all was happening. “You see? Nothing. It is worrying to me. My shadows are no longer obeying my commands at present.”
Billy sighed and perched on the edge of his bed, “Great! Just fuckin’ great! This is just…! So when can you leave?” The other man spread out his arms, “I have no idea.”
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Devon, UK
Way across the Atlantic, you were already hard at work in your little bookstore in Appledore, Devon. You had a snug apartment above the store and had filled it with lots of your favourite things. It was a cute little coastal town and you loved living there. The community was small and friendly especially in the winter months, only increasing in summer with all the tourists who came to stay. As long as you made a decent living during the holiday season - which you normally did - then winter was a much calmer, chilled time of year.
You added a final book to the new display in the centre of your store and stepped back to take in how it was looking. Yeah, not bad if you did say so yourself. It was comprised of a fantasy trilogy for young adults about some ancient guy who could summon up shadows, and was a bit of a villain from what you could tell from the story synopsis on the book covers.
Not your cup of tea, to be honest. Generally speaking, all types of action stories were more your thing - something with a bit of ‘va-va-voom’. In fact, you were looking forward to tonight when you’d decided you were going to sit down with a nice tub of ice cream and rewatch one of your favourite series. The one with a relentless avenging ex-Marine whose family had been killed and his psycho ex-Marines buddy. Who happened to be rather hot to your mind.
You sighed a little, heading back behind the counter. That was the only thing about Appledore. It was a lovely place, but there was a distinct lack of hot guys.
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New York City
Billy and Aleksander were sitting on separate sofas in Billy’s living area, eyeing each other warily. Aleksander had been trying to explain to Billy all about his world, the Grisha, the Fold, volcras, Ravka, the Sun Summoner, sand skiffs - as much as he could.
It had blown Billy’s mind, to be honest. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In turn, he’d explained all about his military career and the shitshow which had eventually developed once he’d come back to New York. Aleksander looked as equally confused as Billy.
Billy sighed, “I mean, what the hell are you gonna do? You don’t belong here. I need to go to work in a couple of hours. I’m not leaving you here so I’d need to take you to Anvil with me, and you sure as hell can’t go out looking like that.”
Aleksander looked down at his kefta which he’d unbuttoned. His cape was draped over the back of the sofa. “What is wrong with the way I look?” he huffed. “S’pose I could always say you were going to a Comic Con,” muttered Billy. “A what?” “A Comic Con. it’s where fans of fantasy comics go to have fun. They dress up as their favourite characters sometimes. I could always say it was cosplay.”
Aleksander shook his head, “I still don’t understand what you’re talking about. Are you saying I’d look out of place in my uniform? All the Grisha wear these,” he pointed at his kefta. “Not what we wear here,” said Billy, “…and I still don’t get why you look so much like me.”
“I have no idea!” said Aleksander, through gritted teeth, “I told you that already!” “Alright, alright! Calm down.” “I AM CALM!!!” roared the other man.
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New York City
Slightly later that morning, Billy was showered, suited and booted and ready for work. He’d persuaded his uninvited visitor to put on a borrowed leather jacket of Billy’s over his kefta as Aleksander refused to take it off. He’d also made him put on a pair of black trainers, which he’d done very reluctantly. These two items had instantly transformed the freaky-looking guy into someone at least a little more acceptable to your average New Yorker.
Aleksander was wriggling around in the jacket, “It’s not very comfortable.” Billy heaved yet another large sigh - he felt like this was all he’d been doing this morning - “Look, just wear it! You’ll get used to it.” He noticed the other guy sniffing at the collar of the jacket, then his eyes lifted to Billy’s, “You wear perfume?!” “Men’s cologne,” snapped Billy, “or aftershave, as it’s also known because - guess what! - you use it after you’ve shaved!”
His fingers stroking his chin, Aleksander nodded, “Okay, that I understand. We do not use this perfume in Ravka.” “Cologne!” yelled Billy. “Fine, cologne then. Why don’t you like it when I call it perfume? That’s what it is, after all.” “Women wear perfume. Men wear cologne. Okay? Now c’mon, I’m gonna be late.”
Billy strode over to his front door and tried to open it. The handle wouldn’t budge. He shook it, rattled it, pulled the door handle back and forward, exerting more and more strength but nothing worked. He stood back from the door. “It won’t open,” he said, rather unnecessarily. He looked at Aleksander, “Is this you? Or something to do with you?” “No!” he protested, “I have nothing to do with this.”
A somewhat raspy female voice spoke from behind them, “No, but I do.”
The two men swung round, both gaping as they saw that there were what could only be described as rippling waves distorting the whole interior of Billy’s flat. The light had also diminished quite drastically and then they both saw a woman’s head and shoulders start to become defined and then fully visible in amongst the ripples. She seemed to float there at head height but she obviously wasn’t physically present.
“Mother!” exclaimed Aleksander.
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Devon, UK
You snuggled down amongst the soft cushions on your sofa, tub of ice cream and spoon in hand and scrolled to the series you were looking for. It was quite gory in places but you loved it - except for the bit right at the end where the hot dude got killed. That made you sad although you couldn’t deny he definitely had psychopathic tendencies.
As you were looking for the one you wanted to watch, another series caught your eye in the ‘Suggested for You’ section. Hey, it must be based on that trilogy of books you had in the store right now. Maybe you’d give it a try after you’d finished your current one.
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New York City
“Mother?” echoed Billy, “….what’s going on here?!”
The woman’s head swivelled towards him then back to Aleksander. “My two boys, together again. How sweet.”
“What!?” said the two men in tandem. She gave a bitter laugh, “How I managed to produce two such problematic children, I’ll never know.” “What are you talking about, Baghra?” ground out Aleksander. Billy was just standing there, dumbfounded and looking between the two of them when suddenly her glare focussed in on him.
“Maxim.” Billy returned her stare, “I’m Billy!” he corrected her. She shook her head, “You will forever be Maxim to me. And as I’m your mother, do not argue with me. Now…. no doubt Aleksander has been making a great fuss about how he’s many centuries old, has he?” “He did mention it,” said Billy, begrudgingly. She nodded, “I thought he might have. Listen to me, both of you. You are twins, so obviously you were born within minutes of each other. To me.” The two men exchanged glances, before looking back at her. “It became obvious to me that Aleksander - from a relatively early age - was going to cause himself and everyone around him nothing but trouble and strife, so I took a radical step.” “What did you do, Baghra?” questioned Aleksander.
“If you’d have patience, I’m trying to tell you!” she snapped, before continuing, “I got one of the few Heartrenders in existence at that time to take Maxim out of Ravka to a secret location. There, he placed him in long-term suspended animation. When you…” she pointed an accusatory finger at Aleksander, “….started all that nonsense with the Sun Summoner and hunting for the stag, I travelled with another Heartrender to where Maxim was, and brought him out of his enforced hibernation. I had to protect him as there was no guarantee you’d survive, Aleksander.” She stared at his scowling face and carried on speaking.
“He had no memories remaining of his past life and so I took him into the forest, there is a portal there which only I know of. There used to be more knew about it but I am the only one left now. Other universes can be reached through it. And I decided to send Maxim to another one. This one. It was only three months ago in Ravkan time, but in this universe more than thirty years have passed.”
“Wait… what?!” Billy was pissed. “You… you just threw me into some portal and walked away? Not knowing where I would end up?” “I had to save one of my sons!” she spat out, “…the other one had lost his mind and was on a collision course with disaster!” Billy put his head in his hands, before looking up again and raging at her, “I was abandoned for a second time by the woman I thought was my mother in this universe! She was a drug user, a total mess! I was placed in an orphanage… it was terrible!” He saw a remorseful look pass over her face for a split second, “I am sorry, Maxim! But I had no choice. Then I had to step in again when he…” pointing again at Aleksander, “….was nearly killed by volcras. I managed to get him to the portal before he fully regained consciousness. He thinks it was his idea to leave Ravka after we had an argument, but I managed to plant that idea in his mind before I pushed him into the portal.”
Billy and Aleksander both snorted in unison, then glanced at each other again. Billy looked back at her, “You’re sorry? That doesn’t quite cover it. I went to war! And now I’m in a very bad situation due to things which went down in Afghanistan during that war.” Aleksander chipped in, “And how dare you make a decision like sending me to another universe without consulting me first?”
The sigh Baghra gave echoed round the apartment. “You are a pair of ungrateful whelps! And now it sounds like I have to get you of trouble too!” She pointed at Billy this time. “I firstly had to find some very old documents about it, but I managed to find out how to enter the limbo section of the portal, which this is, because I wished to speak to both of you before I sent you on your next journey.” She lifted her hands and swirled them around in a kind of ritualistic fashion, “Be on your way to the next universe!” she chanted, and suddenly the rippling got even more pronounced.
Billy and Aleksander began feeling overwhelmingly dizzy, feeling as if they were falling but in fact realised they seemed to be rushing through time and space.
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Devon, UK
It was Saturday tomorrow so because you could sleep in a bit as you opened later, you finished the first series (but not the second one - it always upset you) of the one you’d originally been watching, and had then moved on to the one based on the trilogy.
You peered more closely at your TV screen - yeah! you were right, the hot bad guy looked so similar to the hot bad dude in the other series they could be twins! Was it the same actor? You’d need to check on the credits but it must be, surely.
No reflection on the series you were watching, but having finished your ice cream you dozed off during episode 6.
You woke up - you had no idea how much later - and as you sat up slightly, realised that you were feeling very strange. Standing up from the sofa, you were so dizzy that you collapsed back down onto it. You tried not to panic, but you’d no clue as to why you felt so unwell all of a sudden.
Then you noticed that your apartment appeared to be rippling. Rippling??!! What the…. The rippling waves began to die down a little and you were suddenly aware of two looming figures standing over you. Their outlines and features slowly became more defined, more solid, and eventually you realised you were looking up at both the hot bad dudes from the TV.
Of course you were.
Okay, your reeling mind said to you, maybe the celestial Powers That Be had been listening when you were complaining about the lack of hot guys in your town.
They were both looking down at you, clear interest in their eyes. Maybe because you were wearing silky shorts with matching tank T. Your sleepwear didn’t leave too much to the imagination.
So you stared at them, and they stared right back at you, although again you were acutely aware of two sets of very dark eyes roaming all over your body.
You wondered if someone had spiked your ice cream.
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coalitiongirl · 3 years
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Fic Recs (under 300 edition)
So I wanted to get back to reading Swan Queen fic regularly, and I asked people to rec longfic that they'd read (not written) and loved that had fewer than 300 kudos! I haven’t read most of these, but I’ve collected them here so y’all can go through the list and discover some new fics with me! Please try to kudos and review every fic that you read! It means the world to the writers and will keep em writing, and then we all win. 😁
Atonement by SgtMac (M): With Regina's magical heart failing thanks to years of previous evil, Emma and Regina and Henry (and Granny!) set out to save her life by traveling to the Enchanted Forest and requesting help from ancient magical beings known as the Guardians. Given a mission as simple as it is impossible - to achieve atonement by creating peace - the ladies find themselves joining a rebellion and fighting for the very soul of the Enchanted Forest all while trying to help Regina to understand that the self-loathing and guilt which have driven most of her actions don't have to doom her chance for a new beginning or even, a chance to live and love again. A S4(ish) SQ love story set against the turmoil of war and the chaotic savagery of the old world.
Blood and Sand by cheshire6845 (E): A/U The Savior is a slave forced into the role of fighting as a gladiator for the House of Hearts. The odds are against her survival as she will have to win in the arena, navigate Cora's schemes, outlast a general's vengeance, and not be killed out of spite by the current House of Hearts Champion - Regina the Undefeated. This story follows the major plot points of Starz Spartacus with some twists along the way.
But what if there was no time by KizuRai (M): When she wakes up, it's dark. She can't move, she can't see, she can't feel and she can't hear. Where am I? She feels a forceful oppression, pressing her down, draining her of her energy and she's powerless to stop it. How did I get here? The question of here is relative, she's not even sure where here is. What happened? There must be some reason for being stuck here but her memory is fuzzy, like all her thoughts are being sifted through a filter. Who am I? She's not sure if she actually exists or she suddenly became sentient in the darkness.She hears a voice reverberating in the distance, it's distorted and quiet but she hears it all the same. It breaks the monotony of the silence. Someone's coming for her, they will get her out. She's just not sure she wants them to as the price might be too great.
Finding Home by evl_rgl (T): “I wanted to remember you so badly that I pulled back your cursed town just so that the memories would make sense. I needed you so badly that even when I had no memory of you, I still tried to find you.” Regina gave Emma and Henry memories of a happy life together before they fled Pan’s curse, leaving them with no memories of their lives in Storybrooke. However, when the memory spell shows signs of failing, threatening to rip apart the minds of both Emma and Henry, Regina makes a drastic choice to go back and fix it, understanding that it will mean living alone in a world where her son doesn’t know her. Was the spell really faulty, though? (swanqueen)
Five Flames by MariaComet (U): In the past, Emma Nolan disconnected from her peers in high school, preferring to keep to herself. In her sophomore year of high school, she decided to try and join the boy’s wrestling team because she was bored. She didn’t expect herself to become the champion of the most bullied kid in school or the secret best friend of the school queen. She also didn’t expect to join a club that would change her life. In the present, Emma is trying to cope with a humiliating loss in her martial arts career. She claims to be “training” but is stuck in limbo between wanting to retire and try again. She is isolated from her former best friend, Regina Mills, a local celebrity chef and the rest of her old friends. When one of them calls her with an idea to honor their deceased teacher, she is confronted with unresolved feelings and questions about how powerful love truly is.
A Glamour of Truth by PrincessCharming (T): After 2x10, Regina uses magic to show Emma the obvious truth. A tentative trust forms between them amid hilarious bickering. With Emma's help, Regina struggles to regain a place in her son's life... until Cora arrives, wanting her daughter back. Pieces of Regina's past emerge showing that the board was set long before the game started. The final battle begins soon.
His Dark Materials 'verse by MoonlitMidnight (M): A modern Alternate Universe in which Dæmons (the external physical manifestation of a person's 'inner self' that takes the form of an animal) are present. In which Emma and Regina have led slightly different lives and they make slightly different choices.
How Many Miles to Avalon? (WIP) by RavenOutlander (E): Regina would do anything to save Emma from the darkness and bring her back home safe and sound. Even put up with the two idiots, Captain Guyliner and a bunch of dwarves she decidedly wanted to drop off at the nearest exit. But in their search for Emma, they find that she might not need that much saving after all. Caught up in a search for the infamous Philosopher Stone, an all out war between DunBroch and Camelot, and ghosts from the past to haunt her every waking moment, Regina finds herself scrambling to keep her and her family's happy endings from falling apart.
The Hyperion by FrankenSpine (M): After wishing upon what she believes is a shooting star, Emma Swan finds herself aboard the Hyperion, the royal starship of an alien Queen from a faraway galaxy. She quickly learns of the tensions between the Queen's people and her own, but the Queen takes an interest in her and agrees to take her away from Earth forever. Adventure awaits. *(Loosely based on Guardians of the Galaxy with just a hint of Farscape)*
If Wishes Came True (It Would've Been You) by Angeii_K (M): After Regina films a guest appearance on her friend Neal’s popular show, he invites her to spend the weekend with him and his girlfriend. What she never expected was to actually like the woman. Sparks fly between the two, which results in them questioning everything and making choices they will later regret. 4 years later, they meet again in the most unexpected of ways. Now co-stars on the same show, they are forced to work through the emotions from their last encounter. What will happen next? Only time will tell.
The King Doesn’t Have To Know (WIP) by highheelsandchocolate (M): The White Knight had never seen anyone like her before: the Queen was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her possessive yet neglectful husband, however, was another thing entirely.
The Lich by Dangereaux (M): Gay disaster Emma, exasperated Regina, and a monster. A Halloween special.
Maybe if We Close Our Eyes we Can Reach the Stars by wellthizizdeprezzing (T): Emma is a lonely astronaut. Regina is an adventuring alien. Their paths cross leading them onto a journey of new discovery. Between galaxies and many miles of cold black space, despite not speaking the same language, they manage to fall for each other. An out of this world love story.
A prisoner long forgotten by sugarsweet_19 (M): ‘I wish I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood and as black as the wood of the window-frame. Soon after she had a little girl, who was as white as snow, with lips as red as blood and with her hair as black as the ebony of the window-frame. She was therefore called Snow-white.” This is how our story starts but how will it end?The evil queen as been locked up in a tower and forgotten that is until princess Emma looks for a place to hid from her parents after they tell her she has to marry Neal the son of the dark one.
Revenge of the Three Little Pigs by mskyo (M): Regina and Emma find themselves alone and looking for the rest of their party. The Evil Queen must face the consequences of her past actions. Will Emma come to her aid, or understand that justice must be served... *Some chapters have fairly graphic sex, and violence*
Things I Almost Remember by cheshire6845 (T): A/U Despite an oncoming war between the Dark and the Light, Emma and Regina are best friends growing up in the Enchanted Forest. When war does come, they find themselves on opposite sides. Regina will have to defy her mother to save Emma. Will Emma be able to save Regina when Cora curses her daughter to live in the Land without Magic?
What We Make (WIP) by DiazTuna (M): “My mother.” He says calmly. He’d known all along, she’s aware. But he’d known that today would be the day that would get this going. She wants to ask what it was like, to have woken up this morning, laced up his boots and walked into hell just knowing. “It’s programmed the cyborg to kill her. Before I have a chance to be born.” -In which the leader of the future sends his best soldier back to the past to save his mother from a killer cyborg. Terminator AU.
The Wrong Way by pcworth (M): Takes place right after Zelena steals Regina's heart. Zelena offers Regina a chance to go back in time with her and change both of their lives for the better. But what will be the price of that decision. Slow-burn to SwanQueen
zombie trash by 13pens (T): Zelena could have her brain and eat it, too. Fic operates on three premises 1. this takes place in any universe where zelena is a reformed asshole 2. zombies are a thing and exist iZombie style 3. i have NO chill
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