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vixstarria · 6 months

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Something real

I thought I’d play around with an Astarion POV and this is what happened.

Connected with my other headcanon fics, would take place after this one, but before the end of this one. You don’t have to read them for this to make sense though. (But you totally should!)

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav, soft Astarion, Astarion POV

Comfort, fluff, budding love, banter, humour, Act 1 spoilers, non-explicit, light angst, probably too much swearing

Approximately 2,000 words.

You were lying alone by the fire, waiting for her to join you, trying once again to untangle the mess this woman made in your head.

What exactly were you, to each other?

Were you just temporary travelling companions having meaningless sex for stress relief?

Or were you lovers in the more literal sense of that word?

And is that what you wanted..? To be someone’s, whom you could call your own? To have something real..?

It should have been simple, except the lines kept shifting and blurring. And needless to say, this wasn’t at all what you had initially intended.

All you knew was, this deliciously ambiguous time at the end of your evenings, when you just talked – this was your favourite time of day.

You were restless with anticipation, now that everyone else had finally gone to sleep or was shuffling around in their tents.

Except she was nowhere to be seen.

You could always slip into her tent, she might even have been waiting for you there now – but then you'd most likely wind up putting on the ‘seductive lusty lover’ mask, and as fun as that was, it’s not what you wanted right now.

You were getting impatient.

You wondered just how undignified and out of character it would be to simply go to her tent and lure her out on some pretense, like the stars being particularly bright, or some similar horseshit. You glanced at the sky. The stars weren’t even visible.

Fuck. ...Well, she’d just laugh at that anyway.

But lo and behold, there she was at last, plundered bottle of wine in hand. You bit your tongue to avoid addressing her with any of your habitual epithets, for which she’d rebuked you on numerous occasions, but she went ahead and did it for you herself anyway:

“Here I am! The wind beneath your wings, the rose among your thorns! The fire in your furnace, the... uh... help me out here, will you?”

“The biting canines in my buttock.”

“There we go! A touch predictable, but no less eloquent for it.”

She sat down, right next to your head, stretching her legs out towards the fire, and gave you a searching and expectant look, not saying anything.

You raised a quizzical eyebrow back at her.

“Well come on, scooch up,” she said with a playful smile on her lips.

You lifted slightly on your elbows and laid your head in her lap.

This is new.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” she asked, waving a wrist, and then the wine in the other hand suggestively at you.

“Not tonight, dear,” you chuckled. “I had quite a successful boar hunt while the rest of you were playing hero in the foothills.”

“Suit yourself.” She took a drink straight from the bottle and stared off into the fire, her other hand absentmindedly running through your hair. You resisted the urge to lean further into her touch.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked after the silence went on a touch too long.

“I would like you to explain something to me.” she said quietly.

You instinctively tensed, your mind racing, wondering what you could have possibly done or let slip.

“...Why in the fuck do you lot listen to and take directions from me? Do none of you realize I’m just a shit-talking clown and have no idea what I’m doing?” the tone of her voice was flat.

...Ah. That.

“This ‘clown’ led us unscathed through a subversive operation in a goblin camp. Mostly via shit-talking. You even convinced one of them to lick your boot!” you shook your head incredulously. “Give yourself credit where it’s due. Do you think anyone else here could have pulled that off?”

I probably could have. Wouldn’t. But could have.

She took a swig from the bottle, considering your question. “Well you definitely could have done the same. You’d just choose not to. ...why are you laughing?”

“Never mind that. Would you like me to take over for you, darling?”

“Good heavens, no!” she grimaced in mock horror. “Just stay at my side, as my moral compass.”

“Your moral compass?”

“When in doubt, I ask myself ‘What would Astarion do?’, and do the opposite. Usually that’s good enough to keep everyone happy and keep bloodshed to a minimum.”

You’re not wrong.

“But gods it’s been exhausting...” she was sombre again. “They all want something, and they all think their problem is the most urgent. ‘We must go to the creche – no, we must go to Moonrise – no, but my heart will explode – no, but I and everything around me will explode’” she was getting riled up, gesticulating with the bottle in her hand. You were worried it would fly out of her grip. She paused to collect herself.

“At least your demands are too insane to entertain in the first place,” she continued with a weary grin. “‘Embrace the tadpole, take over a cult, fight squirrels, commit genocide’” - she did her best to mimic your manner of speaking, then rolled her eyes and took another swig from the bottle.

“Never know where a little thinking outside the box might lead you, dear.” I just want my freedom, whatever it takes. ...And that squirrel was looking at you funny. “And you? What do you want?”

“A hot bath, new lute strings, and a cat to cuddle,” she answered without hesitation.

You couldn’t think of anything better than to emit a very convincing meow.

It must have taken her by surprise - she glanced down at you, eyes wide, before bursting out laughing and scratching you behind the ear.

You hated to admit it, but you were very pleased with yourself, making her laugh like that.

“My pointy-eared feline predator,” she murmured, looking into your eyes and smiling, as she slowly and delicately ran her finger along the edge of your ear, right to the tip, which felt... divine, actually.

This... this was too intimate for someone you just had meaningless sex with, right?

You heard some rustling and footsteps nearby, too casual to be an intruder, probably just someone walking off to relieve themselves.

She jerked her hand away from you, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, and actually made a motion as if to get up, before you stopped her with a gentle hand on her wrist, still lying with your head in her lap.

“Hey... Hold on... Now you explain something to me. Earlier today, you burst into camp covered in hyena entrails, yelled ‘My star!’, threw yourself on me, legs and arms and all, like some deranged monkey, and made me spin you around, kissing you. ...But this is what embarrasses you?”

“That was putting on a silly act,” she said sheepishly. “And this is...” she faltered, looking for the right words.

Real..?

“Not intended for anyone else’s eyes.”

Real.

"Well everyone can direct their eyes elsewhere, then,” you responded, unable to contain a smile.

It’s real.

...Ahah!

“Oh, and you’re absolutely adorable, by the way,” you added.

She flicked you lightly on the nose and looked away. Was she blushing?

“Anyway. It’s Gale that worries me the most.”

Fucking Gale.

“He said the last artifact he consumed hardly did anything. He doesn’t know how much longer he can contain it. He’s inconsolable.” she continued.

“Perhaps we should all stop worrying and embrace the orb explosion. At least that will mean we won’t have to deal with anything else, ever.” you suggested. This was helpful, right?

“I wish I could do something to help, or at least get his mind off it for a while.”

Of course you do, you bleeding heart.

“And how might you ‘get his mind off it’, exactly?”

“I think we should seduce him,” she looked you straight in the eyes and said in a deadpan manner.

Oh, sliding off a serious topic straight back into fuckery with a straight face, are we? I know that game very well.

“Darling, even without the orb, he would literally explode if you held eye contact with him a second too long. He’s been pining for you since you pulled him out of that rock.” You waved a dismissive hand in Gale’s general direction. “The kindest thing you can do for him is give all your undivided attention to me, so he never has a glimmer of hope.”

Bloody Gale with his manicured beard, puppydog eyes and cooking skills...

“Well, while we’re on the topic, I still think we should seduce someone, to spice camp life up a bit. How about Lae’zel?” she continued.

“Lae’zel would skewer both of us if we approached her.”

...and his warm hands...

“Shadowheart?”

“...You know, I’m pretty sure Lae’zel would skewer us for that, too. Perhaps all three of us, on the same blade.”

...and his ability to find kind and empathetic words in any situation. ...Shame about the orb though.

“What about...” she grinned, “daddy Halsin?”

You exchanged a meaningful look.

Ha! Well there’s a curious thought. I wonder if he could contain himself, or if he would turn into a bear. How... dangerous.

“Let’s revisit that thought later.” you said pensively.

“Karlach is impossible, of course...” she continued. “That leaves Wyll.”

“Oh please,” you chortled. “Even if he wasn’t depressed over the whole... demonic horns and abducted parent conundrum. He strikes me as the ‘wait until marriage’ type. And he’d want to do the seducing himself.”

“I’m not so sure about the marriage part. He would keep it proper and gentlemanly though.” she thoughtfully tapped her lower lip with a finger. “Multiple extravagant dates to impress his sweetheart before making any moves, the whole shabang. You wouldn’t want him to try to sweep you off your feet?”

“Just me? No no, we are in this together.” you remarked. “And he could certainly afford to woo us both at once, being the son of a duke.”

“Weeks of wining and dining us, waiting for the fires of ‘true love’ to fully ignite...” she said contemplatively, gazing into the fire.

“Smothering us with red roses, romantic moonlit carriage rides and ballroom dancing...” you copied her tone.

“Until finally railing you on a grand piano one day, while I whipped him with a switch,” she said with a devilish grin.

“You absolute uncouth filth!” it was your turn to be taken off-guard as you shook with laughter.

You incredible, ridiculous, mad thing... I would spend another year locked alone and hungry in a tomb, if it meant keeping you alive and safe.

Something in your chest twisted.

Did I really just think that?

Yes, yes I did.

You needed to stop and consider what just came into your head. And give yourself a good slap in the face. But for now, more than anything, you desperately needed to switch your brain off.

You sat up and kissed her, pulling her into an embrace.

“You crazy idiot, what am I going to do with you?” you whispered, briefly touching your forehead to hers.

“Something nasty, I hope,” she answered with a cheeky smile. But there was more warmth than lust in her eyes.

“My tent or yours?” you asked softly, trailing a finger down a bare arm.

“Do you have vials of boar blood everywhere?”

“Yes. Do you have everything you’ve collected, ever, everywhere?”

“...Yes.”

Hoarder. I would give you a whole palace to decorate, just to see what you would do with it.

Sigh... “I guess I could accommodate you for a short while.”

Please stay all night.

On a sudden whim, you swept her up in your arms as you got up, carrying her to your tent.

What in the hells was I thinking?

“Oh!” she gasped, surprised. “My... I don’t suppose you’ve got a grand piano in there?”

“We’ll have to make do with my trunk, I’m afraid.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

None of this was going according to plan.

Fuck the plan.

You felt like a cretin and a fraud as you carried her off. But you’d make it right. She deserved something better. Something real.

And so did you, godsdamnit.

I’ll tell her... Just not today.

~~~~~

Next in series - Are you mine?

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

AO3

#astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #fkn Gale

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fragileheartbeats · 2 months

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Can we get more about Jaenyx?

# 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐗 ☆

To serve is to bleed, to love is to kill. Such is the fate of those who kneel before queen.

Jaenyx possessed a breathtakingly beautiful countenance that captivated all who beheld him. His features were meticulously sculpted, each element harmonizing flawlessly to create an aura of ethereal allure.

With silvery-golden wavy hair cascading in soft waves around his chiseled face, Jaenyx exuded an otherworldly radiance. His locks shimmered like spun silk under the sun's gentle caress, framing his visage with an enchanting glow.

His eyes, a mesmerizing blend of amethyst and sapphire, held depths of mystery and intensity that drew observers into their spellbinding gaze. Sparkling with an inner light, they reflected the shifting hues of the sky, adding an enigmatic allure to his already captivating presence.

A refined nose, straight and elegant, accentuated his symmetrical features, while full, plush lips, adorned with a delicate mole lent a touch of sensuality to his angelic face.

Jaenyx's complexion was like alabaster, smooth and flawless, radiating a porcelain-like luminosity that seemed untouched by the passage of time. His skin, unblemished and pristine, bore the mark of ethereal perfection, drawing admiration from all who beheld him.

Tall and statuesque, Jaenyx possessed a slender yet muscular physique that moved with a grace and fluidity reminiscent of a dancer. His narrow waist and sculpted form exuded an aura of strength and elegance, commanding attention wherever he went.

In every aspect, Jaenyx was a vision of unparalleled beauty, a living embodiment of grace and allure that left an indelible impression on all who had the privilege of beholding him.

Jaenyx's obsession with Daenerys was all-consuming, a fervent devotion that bordered on worship. Freed from the shackles of slavery by Daenerys's benevolent act, Jaenyx latched onto her with unwavering loyalty and adoration, viewing her not only as his savior but as a deity incarnate.

Every word uttered by Daenerys was gospel to Jaenyx, every action she took revered as divine decree. He hung on her every whim, his sole purpose in life becoming the fulfillment of her desires. Her kindness towards him ignited a fervent devotion within him, one that knew no bounds and brooked no dissent.

Driven by an insatiable desire to please his queen, Jaenyx went to great lengths to prove his loyalty, often resorting to extreme measures to demonstrate his devotion. His actions, though fueled by love and adoration, often bordered on obsession, blurring the lines between devotion and possession.

Jaenyx's obsession with Daenerys manifested in possessive and jealous tendencies, as he fiercely guarded her honor and perceived threats to her safety with unbridled ferocity. He saw himself as her unwavering protector, willing to go to any lengths to shield her from harm, even if it meant resorting to violence or bloodshed.

For him, there was no greater purpose than to serve his queen, to bask in the light of her grace and favor for all eternity.

Excuse me, my lady, but may I steal a moment of your time to admire your grace and beauty?

Indeed, Jaenyx possessed a charming wit and flirtatious demeanor that added an extra layer of intrigue to his character. With a silver-tongued eloquence and a mischievous twinkle in his captivating eyes, he effortlessly charmed those around him, weaving a web of allure and enchantment wherever he went.

His wit was sharp as a dagger, his words dripping with playful banter and clever repartee that never failed to elicit laughter and admiration from those in his presence. Jaenyx had a knack for turning even the most mundane conversations into delightful exchanges filled with humor and charm, leaving his companions dazzled by his quick wit and infectious charisma.

But it was his flirtatious nature that truly set Jaenyx apart, his effortless charm and magnetic presence drawing admirers like moths to a flame. Whether exchanging playful banter with courtiers or engaging in intimate tête-à-têtes with his queen, Jaenyx exuded an irresistible allure that left hearts aflutter and pulses racing.

His flirtatious antics were as charming as they were irresistible, his playful teasing and coy smiles leaving a trail of smitten admirers in his wake. Jaenyx knew just how to play the game of love, his smooth words and seductive gestures leaving those around him enraptured by his magnetic charm.

Yet, beneath his playful facade lay a heart fiercely devoted to his queen, his flirtatious banter merely a mask to conceal the depth of his affection. For Jaenyx, every flirtatious quip and coy smile was but a testament to his unwavering devotion to the one woman who held his heart captive – Daenerys, his queen, his goddess, his everything.

Blood stains my hands, but it is the color of devotion.

For Daenerys, Jaenyx would willingly plunge into the depths of darkness, committing unspeakable acts in her name. He would silence dissenters with ruthless efficiency, eliminating anyone who dared to oppose her rule or question her authority. His methods were brutal and merciless, but in his eyes, they were necessary sacrifices to ensure her safety and supremacy.

Jaenyx's bloodthirsty nature was unleashed in defense of Daenerys, as he prowled the shadows like a silent predator, ready to strike down any who dared to harm her. His ferocity knew no bounds when it came to protecting his queen, his loyalty driving him to acts of savagery that would make even the bravest warriors tremble in fear.

S-sorry, I-I didn't mean to stare... it's just, um, you're very... um, beautiful.

Despite his fierce exterior and acts of cruelty in her name, Jaenyx's demeanor transformed into one of timidness and vulnerability in the presence of Daenerys, revealing a deeply ingrained sense of reverence and adoration for his queen.

In Daenerys's presence, Jaenyx's stoic facade crumbled, leaving behind a shy and bashful demeanor that betrayed the depth of his affection for her. His cheeks would flush a rosy hue, his heart racing like a wild stallion, as he found himself unable to meet her gaze without feeling a surge of overwhelming emotion.

The mere touch of Daenerys's hand upon his own would send shivers down Jaenyx's spine, leaving him trembling with nervous anticipation. His words would falter and stumble, his tongue tied in knots, as he struggled to articulate his thoughts in her divine presence.

If Daenerys were to ever ignore or overlook him, Jaenyx would be overcome with a profound sense of desolation and despair, his heart breaking at the thought of being cast aside by the object of his unwavering devotion. Tears would well up in his eyes, his soul laid bare before her, as he yearned for nothing more than her acknowledgment and affection.

Despite his fearsome reputation and acts of cruelty, Jaenyx was but a vulnerable soul, hopelessly ensnared by the enchanting allure of his queen. In her presence, he was but a lost puppy, eager for her love and approval, willing to endure any hardship or humiliation if only to bask in the radiant warmth of her affection.

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

@emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation

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thefrogdalorian · 3 months

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The Best of Both Worlds - Chapter Six

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

❁ Series Masterlist ❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Word Count: 7105 Rating: General Summary: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone... Content Warnings: None! Author's Note: Nice to meet a few more Mando characters in this chapter. Din has a cruuuuuuuuush. Also, I love writing Peli and Din's relationship in any universe. Thanks for all the comments and love you're showing to this baby so far, it means the world! Huge thanks also to the wonderful @suresnips for being my beta! ♡

6. With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]

For the first few weeks while the third season of The Mandalorian had been in pre-production, things were a little haphazard in terms of personnel that were present in the studios – known as The Volume – where the show was filmed. Din appreciated the sparsely populated studios. After all, less people meant less opportunities for someone to scrutinise his identity. Although Peli Motto, the person he was closest to on the cast, had been present and the two had hung out in Din’s trailer plenty of times, there had been markedly fewer people than usual wandering around the studios.

Now, however, it was Monday morning and the first week of filming was set to begin. That brought more people to The Volume. A lot more.

Din considered that he should have been used to it by now. It was, after all, the third season of the show. So far, his identity had successfully remained the closely guarded secret that he wanted it to be. Much of that was thanks to the showrunners, Jim and Dale. They were, after all, the only people present at The Volume at any given moment who had any idea of Din’s identity. That was a thought that both comforted him and made him nervous.

It was reassuring to know how closely they had guarded Din’s secret and abided by his wishes. Of course, some of that was motivated by the legal trouble they could become embroiled in should they ever reveal Din’s identity without his consent. But Din often thought fondly of how understanding the two men were throughout the sordid process of negotiating the contract with Disney. Jim and Dale had both pushed for Din to be The Mandalorian, insisting that, for them, there would be no second choice. It was Din or nothing.

Disney's eventual decision to accept the anonymity clause had been mostly motivated by how much Jim and Dale had stood by Din during discussions and how much they had wanted him as Mando in the first place. It was a debt that Din knew he could never truly repay to the two men who had flown in from Los Angeles over the weekend, ready for production to properly get underway. Din was looking forward to catching up with the two of them, who always made an effort to check in with him and inquire about how he and Grogu were adapting to life in a new country. Indeed, it was the two of them who had put Din in contact with a woman called Fennec Shand, who worked for the production company. It was her job to make sure Din and Grogu were sufficiently settled. Fennec often organised excursions, including the tour Din had enjoyed with Grogu at the British Museum on Friday night.

It was that very tour which Din had spent the majority of his weekend thinking about rather than mentally preparing for the intense filming schedule which lay ahead of him. Din was unsure whether he believed in fate, or destiny. But surely encountering her again, the girl who he had felt instantly drawn to after her eloquent speech in his defence at ForceCon, had not been a coincidence. As he stood there in the crowded hall, watching her disappear into the crowd, Din had wished against all probabilities that he could just see her again, one more time. Lo and behold, a few days later, there she was. Din did more than see her again. This time, he was free to interact with her without the confines of his armour and helmet. He marvelled as she shared her knowledge, expertise and showed an incredible amount of patience and understanding towards Grogu especially.

It was seeing her interact with Grogu that had really meant everything to Din. He already knew, after her speech, that she possessed many qualities that he valued in a person. However, to witness the compassion and patience she had extended to the nervous little boy, even after Grogu had caused somewhat of a commotion, it was difficult for Din to quantify just how much that simple act of understanding meant to him.

Now that he had crossed paths with her again, Din knew that she was a presence that he wanted in his life going forward. Equally, Din knew that it would probably be immoral of him to explore something with the girl. There was no way he could be completely honest with her about his identity, certainly not while they were still getting to know each other. That meant Din would inevitably have to lie while he evaluated whether he could trust her with his secret.

Then there was the question of how she would feel should she ever find out that he had been untruthful. Lying was not in Din Djarin’s nature; he never wanted to lie to her, he knew that would likely cause hurt further down the line. How would she feel if she ever found out that he was keeping such an enormous secret from her?

Despite the moral dilemma, Din kept returning to how he had felt when they were together. The rush that Din had when he was in her presence was indescribable. He felt a genuine connection with her immediately, despite how aloof he had probably appeared when she first walked up to him and Grogu. The sight of her had knocked all air out of his lungs even with all of the training he had to maintain his composure.

But then there was the thrill that Din had actually been able to talk to her and look at her without the confines of his helmet, all while knowing that she was seeing him for who he was and getting to know him as the man, rather than The Mandalorian. It was an enthralling experience.

So, Din had spent the majority of the weekend pondering his next move. Of course, he could return to the museum and ask after her, but Din feared that would be inappropriate and overstepping his boundaries. He wondered whether he should hang around the museum at closing time and wait for her to emerge. He wanted her to know precisely how much the time they had spent together had meant to him. Above all, Din wanted to continue getting to know her and determine whether the two of them could build a future together.

With all thoughts of how to make the next move, Din knew he was a little distracted. Which wasn’t exactly ideal right before an intense filming schedule got underway. Despite the fact that he was now onset and should be in full Mando mode, Din found that as he sat there in his trailer with Grogu, he was still distracted. His mind remained firmly fixated on the incredible girl from the museum that he wanted to know better.

A knock at the door pulled Din from his musings and he grabbed his helmet before unlocking the door. The familiar, tanned face and dark brown eyes of the man who cared for Grogu onset, called Iggy, greeted Din.

“Hi Mando,” Iggy chirped, “I’ve been sent to care for Grogu.”

“I thought I wasn’t due on set yet?” Din replied, slightly taken aback at his presence.

“Oh, you’re not. But Jim and Dale have requested your presence in their office,” Iggy explained.

“Alright. Come in, Iggy,” Din opened the door further and waved the lanky man with messy black hair that stood up in various directions, into the room.

Meetings like this with Jim and Dale were not unheard of, so Din had no reason to be particularly troubled by the fact that he had been summoned to their office. But there was a feeling of nervousness that lingered in his gut at his presence being requested like this. Nevertheless, after saying goodbye to Grogu and leaving him happily drinking a carton of juice while resting on Iggy’s lap, Din made his way to Jim and Dale’s offices.

Din’s heart dropped when he saw the grim faces of the two men behind the desk of their office. Instantly, he knew that instinct in his gut was correct. Whatever the subject of this meeting was, it was going to be an uncomfortable one. At once, the worst possible scenarios began flicking through Din’s mind. Perhaps he had been summoned here so Jim and Dale could tell him that his role had been cut from the new season, they wanted to go in a different direction and needed someone who was willing to reveal his face. Din was trembling; he stood frozen inside the doorway as he felt as though everything was about to come crashing down all around him.

Din felt sickened as he realised that his life, the one he had been building here with his son in the peaceful English countryside and the girl that he had met would, in a few moments, be cruelly ripped from him. Din was certain that the men before him were about to deliver a crushing blow as they informed him that he was no longer wanted for the role of The Mandalorian. The very role that he had been initially hesitant to accept, but had changed so many things for him.

It was Jim’s voice who finally broke through his racing thoughts and compelled him to move.

“Take a seat, Din,” Jim offered, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the desk from where the two of them sat.

Din apprehensively moved across the room and sat opposite the two men. The atmosphere was thick with an emotion that Din could not place, but judging by the glum, serious expressions that the two men before him wore, he knew in his gut that it was not positive. Din took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut beneath his helmet as he braced for impact.

“Din, we have some concerns that we just wanted to address with you before filming begins,” the cowboy-hat wearing co-creator, Dale, began speaking, his beady eyes peering out at Din from underneath his cowboy hat that was a permanent fixture on top of his head. “Do you have any idea what this could be about?”

Din’s heart was thundering so loudly that he was sure it must have been audible, reverberating off the Beskar. He shook his head slowly, completely taken off-guard by Dale’s question.

“Well, there have been a number of social media posts speculating that the real Mando was at ForceCon a couple weekends ago,” Jim explained. “Din… you wouldn’t happen to have any idea why people would think that, would you?

Din sighed deeply. The foolish decision that he had made without thinking it through because of Peli Motto, of all people, looked set to cost him dear. All he could do now was beg Jim and Dale for mercy, appeal to their humanity and let them know that it had just been a stupid mistake and nothing more.

“Yes. I do know why…” Din sighed and braced himself for what he was about to admit, “it was me,” Din finished, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry if this has caused any headaches for you. I was not thinking clearly. Peli gave me an invitation and mentioned the con. My curiosity got the better of me. I truly apologise, from the bottom of my heart.”

“Thank you for owning up to it, Din,” Dale said and for the first time his expression shifted into something other than a frown. It didn’t fill Din with much more confidence and Dale wasn’t suddenly smiling, but at least it was slightly more reassuring than the stony-faced expressions that he had initially been greeted with.

“Look, Din. We respect your reasoning absolutely for not revealing yourself to the public. If you’ll remember, we backed you the entire way during the negotiations with Disney,” Jim explained, using his hands to emphasise his point. “ choosing to go to a convention like that? Man, what were you thinking?! Your cover could have easily been blown.”

“I mean, that was really dangerous. There were the biggest fans in the world there, thousands and thousands of them. We went for an appearance and it was crazy, the levels of fanaticism,” Dale added and Din internally cringed, not realising just how many layers of danger he had placed himself in. “The photos of your costume went viral, we had to get someone from the PR team to create a fake account on social media claiming that they were the person behind the cosplay so the fans had an explanation. It had to come from somewhere. I just… I really don’t know what you were thinking, Din.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t thinking,” Din swallowed, suddenly feeling incredibly ashamed at his recklessness. It was so unlike him. But he seized the opportunity to defend himself. After all, if Jim and Dale had really called him in here to fire him, he at least wanted to say his piece before they delivered such a crushing blow. “A castmate enthused to me about the con and she handed me some passes that the organisers had sent her. My curiosity got the better of me. I know how… things got out of hand after my appearance at the hospital. I should have consulted with you both first. I’m sorry.” Din said earnestly, although he was thankful that his helmet was covering his face. Din was unused to handling sensitive conversations like this face to face and his cheeks were burning an embarrassing shade of red beneath his helmet.

Jim and Dale glanced at each other in some wordless form of communication, which Din was unable to decipher. He felt his already sweaty palms moisten further in the leather gloves that he was wearing. Regardless of what it meant, Din knew that the look did not fill him with much confidence and he suddenly felt an overwhelming need to defend himself further.

“Look, if my actions in going to the convention were… a step too far and my position is now untenable, then I suppose I understand. I’ll be disappointed, of course, and firing me would uproot Grogu’s life too. But he’ll get over it. We all do,” Din said quietly, as much for his own benefit as Jim and Dale’s

“Fire you? Din Djarin, you are The Mandalorian!” Jim exclaimed, clearly incredulous at the notion that they would ever contemplate such an action. “Without you, this show would not be possible. We didn’t call you into this meeting to lecture you, I apologise if you were under that impression.”

“Yeah, the absolute last thing we would want to do is bring you any additional stress right before we begin such a busy period of filming. Jim and I were just concerned for you. Din, we don’t want you to be exposed before you are ready for the world to know who you are, if that time ever comes. The precautions that we have in place for you are unprecedented, there is nothing else like it. The amount of NDAs, the security around the studio, the way you travel to work and hide your face constantly. It is a new experience for all of us. I’ve been in this industry for many years and when you came to us with your demands of privacy… Well, we’d never encountered anything like it. But we’re in this together. You’re worth this, Din.” Dale said, his reassuring words comforted Din instantly.

“Thank you,” Din said, voice suddenly thick with emotion.

“If there’s anything at all we can help you with, you know you can always talk to us. No problem is too insignificant,” Jim said, kindly. “How was the museum visit, by the way? Did you and Grogu have fun?”

Din was once again thankful that the helmet was covering his blushes. Jim’s question forced him to cast his mind back to the museum, to her…

“It was wonderful, thanks,” Din breathed. “Grogu and I learnt a lot. I appreciate the excursions you two and Fennec organise for us.”

“You’re welcome, Din. Anything we can do to help you feel settled,” Jim nodded. “If you ever want to organise one yourself, you know you can contact Fennec. Her job is to assist you and always make sure that you and Grogu are happy and settled.”

“I appreciate that. Really, it means a lot,” Din said appreciatively. “Being here in a new country with Grogu is always a little lonely, but the visits help.”

“Well, if you ever want to organise any more, don’t be afraid to contact Fennec,” Jim nodded.

“Are you going to be okay with filming today?” Dale asked

“Yes,” Din said instantly.

Din knew that his head was probably elsewhere, but there was no way he would ever let down anyone else by refusing to film. Although he knew that there were plenty of intense action scenes and stunts that he would have to perform on this particular filming day that would take maximum concentration, Din was confident in his abilities to see them through. They were scenes that Din should be able to film in his sleep, with stunts that were as natural to him as an intake of breath.

The reality, though, of standing there in front of a set full of people looking at him expectantly was quite different. Din was hoping that by falling back into the routine of filming, that he would soon be distracted from the thoughts of the girl from the panel and the museum that had been racing through his mind since Friday.

He could not forget the glances she had thrown his way, the way her eyes lingered on him and the noticeable loss of her composure after he had compared her to the beautiful exhibits. Din was in awe of her knowledge about everything in the museum, the way she had shared it without being patronising. She was passionate, not arrogant, and had shown such patience and kindness to Grogu.

Din knew that he had to concentrate. Every take that he messed up inevitably cost money. But more than the financial repercussions, Din wanted to set the tone of filming for season three to a positive, productive one. Yet the ongoing dilemma of what to do going forward regarding his feelings for the girl were continuing to trouble Din.

It was a simple scene, in comparison to some of the intricate stunts with multiple moving parts that Din had to film in the past. All he had to do was fling himself across a cantina bar and punch a couple of aliens in the face. It was a move he had done hundreds of times in his life, both as The Mandalorian and in the life of violence he had known before Grogu. But today, Din could not get it right.

Din had reassured the director and stunt coordinator that he knew what was expected of him after he missed the first couple of takes, which was wholly uncharacteristic of someone who was usually as efficient as Din prided himself on being. It wasn’t a lie, either; Din knew exactly what was expected of him.

It was not his body that was failing him, it was his mind that was distracted, centred on events and people far away from this set. As he set himself for the latest take, crouching slightly and anticipating the vocal cue that would signal when he needed to move, Din shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He focused on his breathing, attempting to centre himself in the Star Wars galaxy and embody the formidable, ruthless bounty hunter that he was meant to be.

But it was hopeless. When Din closed his eyes, he only saw her face. The take began, but he could not stop thinking about her. About how much he wanted to see her again and how he would do whatever it took to cross paths with her and let her know how important she was to him.

“CUT!” the shout from the director startled Din out of the trance he had seemingly entered into once again.

Din looked around then, and noticed the annoyed faces of the cast and crew. At first, they had been patient with him and tried to hide their disdain. Now, though, it was plain to see how disappointed they were with Din’s lack of composure. He felt awful, as though he was wasting everyone’s time. He knew he needed to get a grip.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Din said apologetically, after messing up the take yet again. “I really don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” he murmured dismissively, although Din knew full well exactly what the cause for his sudden lack of professionalism was.

“Look, Mando, it’s fine,” the director, a man called Gideon, said in his distinctive husky tones as he wandered towards Din. “We’ll take an early break, you can go back to your trailer, get something to eat and then we’ll give this another go after lunch. We all have off days. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you,” Din said quietly, appreciative of the understanding and compassion that Gideon had shown him.

The two had occasionally had their own creative differences and disagreements and Din was certain that he would not be friends with him outside of work. But within The Volume, they were amicable, at the very least. There was mutual respect there and a begrudging fondness that neither would admit to the other. When all was said and done, though, Din knew that Gideon wanted the best for the show and ultimately that meant working with Din, rather than against him.

Din retreated to his room, proverbial tail between his legs. He was disappointed in himself for inconveniencing everyone. Although, he at least had Jim’s comforting words to focus on. Din knew he was The Mandalorian, he had put a little bit of his soul into this character. No one would ever be able to take that away from him, bad day or not.

Din was optimistic that a bit of downtime with Grogu and some food would revitalise him and leave him able to complete his scenes in the afternoon. Walking through the door of his trailer, which was more like a comfortable suite of a hotel room in a corner of the building than a traditional trailer, to see the smiling face of his son lifted Din’s spirits already.

The room that Din had to relax in between takes was a windowless room, tucked in the corner of the studios, that had at first evoked feelings of claustrophobia, but now Din appreciated for the privacy it afforded him and Grogu. A lack of natural light was a hardship he was more than prepared to bear to maintain his privacy.

Iggy and Grogu were sprawled out on their stomachs, a box of felt tip pens was open and Din watched with pride as his son focused on the picture before him. Din could see a sliver of pink as Grogu stuck his tongue out and furrowed his brow in concentration. Iggy sat up as soon as Din walked through the door, nodding at the Mandalorian who loomed over him.

“Hi Mando! Didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Iggy smiled. “Grogu and I have spent the morning doing some colouring in. He did really well, I’m sure he can’t wait to show you what he made!”

“Wonderful, I’m looking forward to seeing it,” Din said, nodding proudly at his son. “Thanks, Iggy.”

“No problem!” Iggy beamed as he stood up. “Well, I’ll leave the two of you to your lunch. I'll be back when it's time to go to set!”

The lock of the door clicking the shut symbolised that Iggy was gone and Din was finally alone with his son. He promptly removed his helmet, relieved to finally feel the air on his face once more. Din picked Grogu and his colouring book up and made his way over to the sofa, sitting Grogu in his lap, ready to appreciate his son's creations. Din had hoped that just the two of them together might have gone some way to calming his frayed nerves. But despite the overwhelming calmness and sense of purpose that Din felt whenever he was in Grogu’s presence, and even as his son proudly showed him the pages of the colouring book he had completed, Din still could not relax.

“They look amazing, buddy,” Din praised as Grogu showed him a page which, coincidentally, showed a rhinoceros.

Din was fairly certain that rhinos were not purple with bright red spots, and even though the scrawled swirls ventured outside the lines in plenty of places, Din did not care. He was endlessly proud of his son, to him it was a greater masterpiece than Dürer’s rhino. To most people, it was just a messy, childish scribble, but Din believed that it belonged amongst the finest exhibits in the British Museum. There he was, thinking of her again.

Grogu excitedly showed Din a few more of his colourings, before Din decided it was time for the two of them to eat some lunch. Keeping his identity secret meant that Din could not eat at craft services with the rest of the cast, it would have been impractical to eat underneath his helmet in any case. But Din relished the meals he shared with Grogu in the little room together, it was a way for them to bond and a way for Din to ground himself in the middle of the day, amongst all the chaos that being on set usually brought.

After helping himself to the platter of fruit that had been left, as usual, in his room and ensuring Grogu ate something too – despite Din’s efforts to expand his son’s palette, Grogu only wanted his favourite animal crackers – Din sprawled out on the couch. With the comforting weight of his boy on his chest, making Din’s heart soar as he stared up at him with big brown eyes, Din finally felt at peace for the first time all day. His mind was no longer racing over his dilemma, he just appreciated the comfort that time with Grogu brought him.

Din momentarily forgot the inner turmoil that was being waged within him in a battle between his head and his heart. For one second, he did not feel completely torn over what to do next. He was so relaxed that the outline of Grogu’s face gradually became more distorted, as Din’s eyelids grew heavy…

The banging on the door an indeterminate amount of time later roused Din from the slumber that he had unintentionally drifted off into.

“Hey Mando! Can I come in?” A familiar voice sounded from the other side of the door. It was Peli Motto.

“Give me a second,” Din replied as he sat up, careful not to disturb Grogu, who he removed from his chest and gently placed on the couch.

Din reflexively reached for his helmet from the floor and secured it on his head. He padded across the room and unlocked the door, feeling instantly brighter when he saw the brown eyes and wild curls of his favourite co-star staring back at him from the hallway. Peli’s presence always cheered him up, even on his darkest days.

“Word on the street is that you aren’t having the best day. What’s up, Mando? Something wrong with Grogu?” Peli asked concernedly. Although Din suspected that she was as keen to get in on the latest gossip as she was genuinely concerned for him.

“No, Grogu is fine,” Din shook his head as he stepped back from the door to allow Peli inside the room.

“There he is!” Peli cooed as she walked towards the sofa and scooped Grogu up into her arms. Peli hugged him tightly and Grogu chirped happily, having awoken from his nap when he was moved, despite Din’s best efforts. “My favourite little guy, how are ya?” Peli cooed.

Grogu let out a delighted noise and Din felt his heart swell as he stood back, observing the two of them interact. He loved how close Peli was to his son. There were not many people Din trusted with his boy, but Peli was absolutely one of them. He was grateful for Peli’s presence in their lives, especially when adjusting to a brand new country and environment. Both Din and Grogu needed someone in their lives who was a comforting, uplifting presence and Peli filled that void perfectly.

Despite how kooky and extroverted Peli was, in contrast to the quiet, methodical way Din conducted his business: if it ever came to it, Din knew that he would trust Peli with his life and even with Grogu’s life. In his bones, Din knew that he trusted her entirely. If anything, Peli was the person on the cast that he was most likely to reveal his identity to. Unfortunately, Peli possessed the loudest mouth on this planet, so Din was realistic about the odds of that ever happening: they ranged from slim to none.

“Grogu is fine,” Din sighed. “It’s me…”

“Oh quit moping, Mando. You’ll rust!” Peli said jokingly.

Din smirked beneath his helmet at her directness. He was unaccustomed to having people like this in his life who would speak to him so directly, without filter. But it was something that he had found he had been missing out on, he thoroughly enjoyed the way Peli would banter with him. At first, he had found the curly-haired woman a tad overbearing. But now, as she sat here in the brown overalls of her costume on the couch in his room, he realised just how much he had come to care about the woman. Even if the reason for his distress was partially her fault, to begin with.

“No seriously, bud. What’s up? I hate seeing you like this.” Peli said, sympathetically. “And if you don’t get your act together, we’ll all be stuck on this set for much longer than I’d like. I have two cats that miss me very much in Los Angeles, thank you very much.”

In typical Peli fashion, she could not resist gently ribbing him after any genuine concern was shown. But Din didn’t mind it. Emotions were a mildly terrifying concept to the man who had spent so much of his life alone.

“It’s all your fault, really,” Din said lightly.

“My fault?! Wait… please don’t tell me you saw that video. It was ONE time, okay!” Peli lifted her hand defensively.

Din just shook his head, having no idea what she was talking about. Whatever it was, Din was fairly certain that he did not want to know.

“No, Peli… I didn’t see any videos…”

“Good, mister. You better keep it that way,” Peli said sternly as she jabbed a finger in Din’s direction. “Now, do you want to talk about it? I’m here for ya, Mando.”

“Well, it’s kind of a crazy story. It all began after that conversation we had about that convention that was coming up. I wanted to try and see what all the fuss was about and also give something back to the fans, I guess. Make a few people’s day, take some pictures…”

“That was you?!” Peli exclaimed, excitedly. “I knew it! What did you think of the con?”

“I hated it at first. It was horrendously busy. I probably would have left, but for an encounter I had. It opened my eyes up to how much people love Mando. It was… nice to feel their love and appreciation for the character.”

“I can’t believe you actually went…” Peli whispered, shaking her head in awe.

“Well, it was an incredibly reckless move in hindsight. Jim and Dale called me into their office to warn me against doing such a thing in future. The costume went viral and they had to make some fake social media profiles allegedly, to claim the costume…”

“That’s insane!” Peli squealed. “Oh yeah, it was everywhere online this week. I’m not surprised they had to do that, so many people were tweeting me, convinced it was the real Mando.”

Din cringed at her words, feeling terribly embarrassed once again at how much inconvenience his moment of recklessness had caused. He sat there for a few moments, trying to adjust to the information and take onboard how close he had come to having his cover blown.

“That’s not why you can’t do the stunts, though, is it?” Peli questioned and Din marvelled once again at how much she saw him, despite having never laid eyes upon his face.

“No, you’re right. It isn’t,” Din conceded. “While I was at the convention, I attended this panel. It was right at the back of the convention hall, but it stood out to me. It was called ‘The Man behind the Mandalorian: Exploring the Identity of the Galaxy’s Best Bounty Hunter,’ and it was hosted by an awful man. A man who was way too old to be wearing a backwards baseball cap, but I digress,” Din grumbled, still caught up on how ridiculous the guy had looked as he sat there, thinking he was the greatest man on earth. “Well, the panel was pretty much just praising the violence of the show and how good Mando is at fighting. Pretty surface-level stuff. There were some criticisms in there, but I could take it, you know. They were still mostly aimed at the show. But then… he opened the floor up to questions at the end and things began to get nasty. People were making all kinds of personal insults about me, about the character. Calling me a diva and saying that I must be a nightmare to work with if I won’t show my face to anyone.”

“Awww, Mando. That sounds awful, it must have been really hard for you,” Peli soothed. She reached out to pat Din’s arm beneath his pauldron. The contact made him jump at first, but he soon melted into the reassuring touch. “You are the furthest thing from a diva. I know I tease you a lot, but I genuinely think you’re a great guy. I really care about you and the kid. Even though I don’t know what you look like. I mean, you could look like an ingrown toenail under there. How would I know?!” Peli joked and Din found himself laughing at that, despite the inner turmoil that still waged inside him. “Look, I still treat you so kindly, aren’t I nice?” Peli added, even though they were both well-aware of how much she teased Din.

“Thanks, Peli,” Din said appreciatively, his voice full of the genuine mirth that her comments had provoked in him.

Giggling like this with Peli was a brief moment of welcome relief and Din’s shoulders dropped a little from the tense position they had been frozen in through most of the conversation. But Din knew the lighthearted moment was fleeting. He still had to explain to Peli the reason for his tormented state.

“It wasn’t the things that were said at the panel that caused all this though,” Din sighed, taking a deep breath as he braced himself to explain the cause of his current state of mind. “Don’t get me wrong, I was having a terrible, awful time. I really wanted to leave. I was about to. But then, this girl stood up. She… she marched right to the mic. I could tell she was a little bit nervous, but she spoke so passionately about me and the show and she stood up for me. Not just as Mando but also as… me. Even though she didn’t know anything about me, she still respected my right to privacy. It felt incredible… her words, they soothed my soul.”

“Oh! Mando has a crush!” Peli said in a teasing, sing-song voice.

Din just tilted his helmet to one side, conveying his disapproval. It was a part of Din that had found its way into the show. Mando was always conveying his disdain for others with a simple tilt of the head, but that mannerism was one hundred per cent a Din Djarin move.

“Sorry. Continue,” Peli said, waving her hand as if to encourage him.

“Thank you. Well, the way she made me feel, it was amazing, obviously,” Din admitted. He paused again, attempting to find the words to explain the rest of the story. “But that wasn’t the last time I saw her. After I left the panel, I went around the hall, taking photos with panels. I was about to leave but then the girl and her friend stopped me for a picture. She was so sweet and polite. I couldn’t stop thinking about her for days… I felt certain that that was the last time I would ever see her…. But then….”

“Woah, hold on there. Look, if you’re gonna tell me about some illegal shit, I gotta get my lawyer on speakerphone. I can’t be a party to any criminal acts, I’m on very thin ice as it is, Mando. Please don’t tell me that you stalked her on social media and then tracked her down to her house and used the zoom on your phone to track her every move until the….” Peli yammered, but Din stopped her.

“What?! No. Of course not, Peli,” Din said, cutting his eccentric, curly-haired friend off mid-ramble and doing his best to ignore the oddly specific fear that she had.

“Oh…” Peli exhaled. “Well, in that case, please continue…”

“A few days later, one of the team here, on orders of Jim and Dale, organised a visit to the British Museum for Grogu and me. Imagine my surprise when the same girl ends up being our tour guide. Except, I went there without my helmet. I was just… me. The man behind the suit. She met me as me, not as Mando. It’s a mess,” Din sighed, his shoulders slumping forward again. “I like her and I’d like to see her again and get to know her. I think I felt a genuine connection there, and she was so great with Grogu. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her, Peli. But how can I… pursue anything? When she’s such a big fan of the show. It would feel strange… like I was taking advantage somehow. Plus, I can’t stand lying. I’d be hiding myself, hiding who I am. A massive part of me.”

“Oh, look at you, Mando. You big softie,” Peli smiled, looking at him adoringly. She was a few years older than Din and he had long sensed that she felt somewhat maternalistic towards him. Peli was looking at him with all the pride a mother might show when their child shows an interest in someone, with a hint of surprise there, too. It seemed that she had never considered that he could be the romantic type.

“What do I do, Peli?” Din asked, desperately seeking the advice he needed to soothe his troubled soul.

“Well, firstly I don’t think you’re taking advantage of her. She doesn’t know you’re Mando. You might have started catching feelings for her when you saw her in that panel, but she doesn’t need to know that,” Peli advised. “I would say, you also don’t have to outright come out with the truth. You can just… skirt around it, I guess. She doesn’t have to know specifics about where you work, it’s just… keeping a secret or two, rather than lying.”

“What if she ever finds out that I’ve been keeping secrets?” Din asked, his voice full of apprehension at the idea.

“Well, hopefully you would have told her on your own terms long before that, once you felt comfortable enough and as though you could trust her. But, hopefully, if that happened… she would understand. Your life, I certainly don’t envy you Mando,” Peli admitted.

“There’s a lot to juggle,” Din confessed.

“I know, I can’t imagine the burden. You deserve nice things, Mando. You deserve a love story of your own. Just make sure she gets to know you for you. Not Mando, with no armour, just you… whoever you are beneath all that. Hell, I don’t even know!”

“Thanks, Peli,” Din smiled, feeling comforted by her words. For all of her eccentricity, Peli still had a heart of gold. “I’ve never really done this before, though. I mean… dated someone. I didn’t get her number after the tour but I’m sure I could get a message to her somehow. I was thinking about sending her a bunch of flowers, with a little note,” Din pondered. “Is that a thing people still do? She seems to be a bit younger than me, in her mid-twenties if I had to guess.”

“Mando! You really are the romantic type! I never would have guessed that from you!” Peli squealed. “She’s a very lucky gal, I’m sure that would be a very thoughtful gesture that would be appreciated by her. Go for it.”

“I will,” Din said, determinedly.

Peli lingered for a few more minutes, catching Din up on all of the gossip he had missed in craft services. Din didn’t particularly care for gossip, but somehow when it was Peli, it was endearing to listen to. Then the brown-overall wearing woman made her exit, mumbling about how she needed to head for a smoke before filming began again.

Din sat there for a few moments, smiling to himself in her wake. He knew that in a few minutes, Din would be summoned to set as Iggy would knock on his door ready to take care of Grogu. Din would have to face a room full of people who were at worst, annoyed and at best, concerned. He had to leave the room, projecting an air of strength and dependability that he was, as Mando. When he left the room, the transformation would be complete from doting father to feared, intergalactic bounty hunter.

Din could have no distractions now. He knew what he needed to do, the talk with Peli had given him clarity and purpose and, bizarrely, the animal that Grogu had been colouring in had given him an idea. So, Din picked up the phone in his trailer and dialled the extension that took him through to the offices of Fennec Shand.

The phone rang once.

“Good afternoon Mando, how can I help you?” Fennec asked.

“Hi, Fennec,” Din replied. “Can you please get me the phone number for the best florist in London?”

Next Chapter

Taglist:@toxic-seduction @survivingandenduring @readingiskeepingmegoing

#my fics #tbobw #din djarin fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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artbythetworachels · 6 months

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“In two days all I will know of love is what I can imagine… and what I can remember.”

Aaliyah Amrohi takes the first completed artwork of my new series depicting my favourite characters from film, tv and across other media. This was my very first digital art piece in ProCreate.

Aaliyah is one of the ✨ dreamiest ✨ characters and totally enamoured me from the very moment it was made clear that she was much more than your average rich girl. Brought to life so eloquently, it was hard not to relate to her feelings of being trapped within her own culture and her desire to find love. Thank you Taylor Sheridan for giving us The Lady and The Lady Tramp. We never see love stories like this and to find this within Lioness was such a pleasant surprise!

I am unabashedly claiming Aaliyah as a lesbian character because her game with Cruz was a sight to behold and too beautifully thirsty to belong to any other group! Aaliyah and Cruz 4ever.

#aaliyah amrohi #special ops lioness #stephanie nur #fanart #artists on tumblr

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clefairymuke · 1 year

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eloquent | eleven

pairing: levi x reader

word count: 3.2k

tw: swearing, graphic descriptions of sex, mentions of cheating, age gap, teacher/student relationship, dom/sub dynamic, mentions of marking, a little teasing

tags: @number-0-iz @propertyoftoru @commanderawkward @thenamesholly @shortmexicangirl @missyasma @syubseokie @ceceofthevalley @sleepynyx @lavidamuerta @rxcked @peacchfuz @musababy @tripedelic-cali @bitterjay @hypernovaxx @alominum @myownenjoymentfanfiction | reply to be added!!

Levi presses his head into the cold tile of the shower wall, the steam that billows around him feeling more like a murky fog than the relaxing sauna he expected. Each drop of water numbs an infinitesimal bit of skin on his back before rolling down to his ankles, and he’s sure the once-soft canvas between his shoulders is now raw and red. The sting of the heat wore off a half hour earlier.

Confidence had never been a problem before, second-guessing his choices unheard of, but that was before you. Before he allowed himself, in an unforgivably drunken stupor no less, to pursue some ridiculous semblance of a relationship with a student— with his only student, at that. Before the incisors of childish jealousy sank deep into his neck and forced its venom to course through his veins. Before you showed him that perhaps there are things in this world even he can’t handle. Now, since you, all he has the energy to do is think, and rethink, and rethink again.

He takes a deep, ragged breath, straightening himself then punching his thumb into the intercom button on the wall. “Hange,” he starts, voice husky with frustration, “bring a pot of tea to my study. Don’t stick around.”

“You got it, boss.”

Levi’s hair is still dripping onto his face as he sips the chamomile from the dainty teacup at his desk. He stares angrily at the blank document in front of him, as if he’s trying to intimidate it into spontaneously populating with the words that seem to escape him. He thought he was immune to slumps. Thirty years of his life he’d had something to behold, something he needed the entire world to read; the last few months, however, have been void of any substance at all. This is the one problem he can’t blame on you.

Deadlines stalk him viciously, interrogators in their own right, begging him for something to consume with a disgusting quickness. He has nothing to give them. Lately he’s questioned if he ever will again.

He considers calling you. Asking for your thoughts instead of assaulting you with his. As soon as the idea crosses his mind, he’s only frustrated with himself again, and yet, his hand still gravitates toward his cell phone. Levi allows his thumb to hover over your name for only a second before scoffing under his breath and tossing the device to the side. At this moment, he makes a decision. It’s one he may not like, but one that needs to be made nonetheless. It’s time to pull back from you.

YOU

You don’t hear from Levi again until Tuesday morning rolls around. Trying not to let it bother you proves impossible as you stress over your appearance before the meeting, which is something you hadn’t worried much about in the past. You spend a painstaking amount of time mulling over your outfit for the day.

You’d stayed up all night editing your pages, which is turning into quite the habit. It’s astounding how one heated meeting and a single date could send you down such a spiral of inspiration, and you more than appreciate this unexpected surprise. Sleep escapes you these days; all that comes to you in the night is your work. You hope your dedication doesn’t escape Levi’s devouring glare, but you fear it will in light of his recent lack of communication. Still, you find yourself significantly less afraid of your advisor-slash-fling for once— perhaps he won’t be so cruel after finding his way into your pants.

An hour later, when your warm smile crashes headfirst into his icy glare, you realize you might have been dead wrong. You remain confident— he feeds on fear and humiliation, after all— and chirp out a friendly greeting. His eyes soften for only a second before freezing over again.

“Good morning,” Levi says smoothly, opening the door a bit further to allow you into his office. You allow your shoulder to brush his chest just barely as you pass, fighting the urge to do it with your hand, instead.

“You look nice today,” you tell him as the door clicks shut. “How was your week?”

“Do you have any pages, or did you think I scheduled this meeting to chit chat?” he snaps, rounding his desk and sitting down without meeting your eyes.

His tone admittedly ruffles your feathers, but you let it roll off your back, fishing the manila folder out of your purse and leaning forward to lay it on the desk. “I’m proud of them,” you say, eyes flitting back and forth as nerves begin to overtake you, eager to look anywhere but his smoky eyes. “I hope you will be, too.”

He takes the folder without a word, ten minutes of silence besides the turning of pages and his pen scribbling in the margins. You cross and uncross your legs a hundred times, palms sweating as a familiar dread settles over your weak shoulders. At least it hasn’t hit the shredder yet, you tell yourself. Anything is better than that.

“I like it,” he says, and that’s all. You wait for more to come from his mouth, lips parted as if there’s something else on his mind, something threatening to slip despite his protests, but Levi remains stubborn and quiet.

You aren’t sure what to reply with, so you decide on honesty. The man in front of you has no trouble being blunt, after all. “There’s more you want to say.”

For the first time since you’d met Levi, he seems almost timid. A few thoughtful seconds pass before he opens his mouth again. “I thought it was a mistake,” he starts, nervously tapping his fingers against the desk. “What’s been going on between you and I, I mean.”

This admission shocks you, sending a little chill up your back and making you lean forward with a need to know more. “Thought? As in past tense?”

“I’m not sure,” Levi says honestly. He meets your eyes, something he’d clearly been avoiding since you walked in that morning, and they are softer than you’ve ever seen them. “You’re writing about me, aren’t you?”

You nod, strangely unashamed. He told you to write your life. Following instructions is nothing to be embarrassed about, right?

“Keep going,” he tells you, allowing the beginnings of a smile to poke at the corners of his mouth. “It’s working.” There’s a comforting silence between the two of you as you search for a way to respond to an unnaturally kind version of Levi. You don’t have to search for long. “A lot of it is still fucking awful, of course. There’s a lot of work that needs to be done. Let’s go over some notes before you go.” There’s the Dr. Ackerman you know. That didn’t last long.

He proceeds to ream you for the next half hour, practically shredding your pages with his sharp tongue as he insults nearly every word of the piece in front of him. You’re confused on what parts of it he claims to like— the pacing is dogshit, dialogue is “stronger, but still utterly embarrassing to read,” and the plot has as much direction as a blind old woman in an unfamiliar city. You want to argue, but he gives strong, undeniable reasoning behind his cruelty. It makes you sick.

As the meeting begins to draw to a close with Levi’s rather rude ‘constructive’ criticism, you admittedly feel a bit disappointed. After the intense revelations of the past week, you’d thought things would be a little different now. Looking at his emotionless expression, you’re prepared to be kicked out crying within the next few minutes.

“Do you have anywhere to be after this?” he asks suddenly, a little light in his eyes for the first time since Wednesday. You give him a suspicious stare.

Pretending to think for a moment, you say, “No, not that I can think of.” A tingle starts between your legs, making you shuffle around in the chair a bit on an instinctive search for friction — you hope his hawk-like eyes didn’t catch that, although there’s no way they missed it. Levi never, ever takes them off of you, it seems. One side of his mouth turns up in a smirk.

He motions you over with a jerk of his chin. “Come here.” Three hollow taps sound through the room as he pats the desk six inches away, directing you where he wants you. You can’t deny that you went racier with your outfit than you typically would — a low-cut sweater paired with a less-than-mini skirt — but you don’t let yourself get flustered as you stand and brush off your legs.

Once you’ve settled on the cool, oak desk in front of him, careful not to let your gaze waver from his eyes even as the wildfires start to spark up, a tingle starts to run up your spine. The cool, smoke-infused tone of his perceptive irises is so cold you could shiver, even though your own eyes burn from the contact alone. You swallow once before speaking — things never go your way when the arrogant man just a half foot away sets the tone. “You never asked me how things went with Reiner,” you say.

Levi’s eyebrow cocks up a millimeter as he looks up at you, hands folded over his stomach as he relaxes into the black leather chair. “I assumed he got the message. Was there more to it?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. You frown.

“I mean, no. He hasn’t spoken to me since then,” you respond, breath catching in your throat for half a second as his hand comes to rest on your knee. The calluses on his fingers brush over your skin softly, and you find yourself wondering if they’re from typing or holding a pen. Your eyes flutter down to examine his clean, slender hands before shooting back to his face.

“Do you want him to?” Levi questions smoothly, no indication of tone or expression to aid you in interpreting his reasoning.

“Well, no. Not really,” you answer honestly, chewing on the inside of your lip. Heart beating in time with Dr. Ackerman’s thumb brushing over your knee, you feel your cheeks begin to grow warmer.

His eyes get warmer, too. “And why not?”

It only takes a second for you to feel the shift, but you go from forcing yourself to maintain eye contact with the intimidating soul before you to losing the ability to pull your gaze away from him. His pitch-colored hair falls just above the sharp, knee-buckling glare of steel eyes — between them, Levi’s narrow nose comes to a neat, up-turned point that shadows his perpetually frowning pink lips. His chin and jaw follow the same chiseled theme, projecting the awe-inspiring feeling one derives from pristine marble likenesses of Greek gods; the leather chair morphs to a throne of skulls, and you consider how fitting it would be to replace Cheryl with the much less vicious, three-headed Cerberus. A skip interrupts your steadily beating heart as one corner of Dr. Ackerman’s mouth turns up in a smirk. You’ve always had a soft spot for the villains, haven’t you?

You gulp. “He’s just not my type. We don’t have anything in common,” you say softly, the flames licking up in his eyes just short of entrancing you. Chills travel up the sensitive skin inside of your thigh as his fingers trail higher on your bare leg, making your chest swell with anticipation. “I think I prefer intellectuals,” you add, courage seeping through your pores with every electric shock, “and darker hair.”

“I think you just prefer me,” Levi corrects you boldly, expression unwavering as his confidence. A soft breeze stings against the feverish skin between your legs as he flips back the hem of your skirt, fingertips brushing the fabric of your panties as blood rushes to your cheeks.

“No, that’s not quite it,” you tease, dishing back for once — Dr. Ackerman hasn’t thrown you out of his office yet, so you figure it’s well received. That’s as much of an indication as you’re likely to get from him. “I know your type, though: young blondes with no shame. I’ve seen a few take the walk of shame through the waiting room.”

Levi chuckles, sharp canines poking out over his supple lips. “And are you shameless, too?” he inquires, a hint of mockery pervading over his steely tone.

“You get off on the fact that I’m not,” you quip, eyes flickering to his grinning mouth. “I can only assume that’s why I’m the exception. But I would never let you mark me up like that before I walked through the waiting room.”

The fires in his eyes blaze a hundred times hotter, an arrogant expression overtaking his features as he pinches your thigh playfully. “What would you be willing to wager on that?”

A tinge of curiosity pulses through your mind in tandem with the wave of heat between your legs. “What would you want if you won?”

There isn’t any hesitation as Levi opens his mouth, tongue sliding quickly over his lips once before he speaks. “You’ll let me take you out again. Wherever I choose.”

A little smile plays on your lips; you’d expected a much more crude request. Swinging your feet back and forth gently as you lean a bit further toward him, you toss a suspicious glare his way. “And if I win?” you inquire, raising your eyebrows.

“I’ll buy you something nice,” he answers, not detailing your prize any further. Choosing not to pry, you twist up your lips in consideration. Adding an expensive item to your bedroom and getting to fool around with Dr. Ackerman almost seems too good to be true, but you choose to give the situation the benefit of the doubt. After all, it could just end up being a wonderful day. The worst that could happen? You nervously slink through the waiting room with a hickey on your neck and get treated to a fancy dinner.

You give him a mischievous grin as you look down into his eyes, still feeling his fingers trace circles on the skin of your thighs. “I’ll take that bet.”

Ten minutes later, you’re kneeling before his black leather chair as Levi unbuckles his belt just in front of you. The sound of your breathing is prominent and anticipatory, skin still flushed and feverish from the feeling of his lips exploring your thighs, breasts, and throat— littering beautifully harsh love bites and hickeys in all the places you can typically cover up. He hasn’t aimed to win your little competition quite yet, but you’re beginning to think he has it in the bag. Looking at your current state, you don’t stand a chance.

Dr. Ackerman doesn’t take off any of his clothes this time— he simply undoes his slacks enough to free his length, fisting it in one hand and giving it a few slow strokes. Your mouth starts to water. “I don’t even think I can get my lips around it,” you say, half joking as you admire the long, puffy vein that runs from the base to the rosy head of his dick.

“You’re riding me, sweetheart,” Levi corrects you, running one finger gently along your jaw. “I just think you look pretty on your knees like this.” He motions at you to join him in the chair, gripping the backs of your legs to place them on either side of him as you come to sit in his lap, your noses only a centimeter apart. The head of his pulsing cock grazing against the lace crotch of your panties sends a shock through your body, making you whine out with searing need.

Your eyes find comforting heather gray as Dr. Ackerman pushes his forehead against yours, running his hands down your thighs while his shallow breaths caress your cheeks. All you can think about are his lips as they rest hanging open a half inch from your own, but he doesn’t kiss you. He just holds your gaze as his long, sinewy fingers pull the lace of your panties over to the side and his hot, impossibly thick cockhead presses lightly against your entrance. Sucking in a shallow breath, you feel the overwhelming circumference of his length compared to the rather narrow tunnel between your quivering legs. You brace yourself. “You can take it,” he murmurs, catching the shield of anxiety glossing rapidly over your eyes.

You shake your head lightly. “I’ve never had one this big,” you say. A gasp catches in your throat as he drags the tip along your slit slowly, savoring the sight of your mouth falling open and your eyes blowing wide when he grazes your clit before repositioning himself at your throbbing opening.

Levi grins the kind of grin that sparks up in his eye like a gas burner, blue flames billowing up in the dark void of his pupils as he listens to your greedy whimpers. His forehead separates from your own so that he may dip down and press his lips to your neck, his teeth pricking lightly at the base of your throat and his soft moans tingling against your sensitive skin. “Let me stretch it out, baby. I need to fuck you. Please,” the man pleads with you, nibbling on your collar bone while his hands continue to wander between your ass and breasts with desperate urgency.

The sweet, raspy sound of his voice makes your heart beat harder, sending a wash of static through your core as you grind down on his stiff length. The head begins to ease past your threshold, molding your smooth, slick walls to fit his girth as he sleeves the first fourth of his dick into your pulsing cunt. “Shit,” you whimper as he continues to push in; you attempt to adjust to his size, clenching repeatedly around the velvet-wrapped steel splitting you open wide.

By the time he’s submerged himself to the hilt, it feels like you’re in a million pieces on top of him. Levi holds a firm, tenderless grip on your hips as he looks up at you, pupils blown and canines poking into his bottom lip as a result of the smug grin painted across his mouth. The flames in his slate-colored eyes flicker blue again for a fraction of a second before his mouth is crashing onto yours, enveloping you in an all-consuming haze that distracts from even the ecstasy of being utterly full of him. He only deepens the kiss as his thumbs dig into your hip bones and begin to rock you back and forth, the head of his dick grinding into your sweetest spot and inviting a string of moans from your busy lips.

Levi breaks the kiss only to attach his mouth to your earlobe, suckling it gently before taking it between his teeth and nipping at it, sending a shiver down your back and forcing you to squeeze around his unbelievable girth. “I don’t know,” he whispers in your ear, breath tickling your skin with his sensual tone. “You seem pretty shameless to me.”

< chapter ten | masterlist >

hi guys i hope the chapter is decent, i'm trying to get back into the groove of the story <3 will upload to ao3 later. lmk what you think :)

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sgiandubh · 9 months

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Más se perdió en Cuba

Whenever a stupid, annoying and predictable thing happens (the three criteria must simultaneously be met), somebody fundamental to me does an eloquent, unique eyeroll and lashes out with gusto: más se perdió en Cuba. The precise English translation of it being "worse things happen at sea".

Mordor's horrified reaction at the sight of S sporting recently a nice cigarillo, while holding the Belgian flag, is hilarious. Until it isn't. This is at best gullible, at worst parochial - you pick your side - and it goes to show how easily people spit on something completely foreign to their world, without checking for context or meaning.

Presenting yourself as a cigar aficionado is a deliberate marketing choice. It enhances the image of a grown-up, sophisticated man-about-town, flaunting Old World charm and an access to gentlemen's clubs worldwide. Most of which feature humidor rooms, where profitable networking and business conversations happen. In 2023, this hobby is akin to what fox hunting was to the Victorians: an occasion to meet and greet, stay relevant and keep up your social standing. It is also what remains of that Bond dream, shaken and stirred and long lost: but let's not scratch a wound that didn't properly heal, yet.

Lo and behold, the Naysayer Brigade quickly gathered speed, on Twitter and Tumblr: oh dear God, Mary, the Apostles and all their spoons, this is pure insanity, he is doing it again, how could that be, the Viking God is smoking like a mere mortal, good grief did you think of the ozone layer, what a stupid peasant, how dares he encourage such a VICIOUS THING?

In an effort to calm the menagerie, Miss Marple herself gave us her usual smug two cents, writing confidently something like "my favorite would be he does not inhale". This is where I parked my drone and laughed and laughed and laughed like a drain.

YOU NEVER INHALE A CIGAR, MEVROUW. EVER.

But you can do plenty of other fun things with it (don't be dirty, don't think Lewinsky). You can plunge the uncut tip in brandy, let it dry, savor the new complex aroma, cut and go for it.

I know I do. Not everyday, but from time to time. And it's glorious.

#fandom

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theluckywizard · 6 days

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15 Lines of Dialogue - Rose Trevelyan

Thank you for the tag @the-rebel-archivist !

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

It would have been infinitely easier to do this with my Garrett Hawke, but I chose my girl, my rogue!Inquisitor, Rose Trevelyan. My long fic In the Shattering of Things is in first person, so I spend all together too much time inside her head. Most of her best lines are just thoughts really, but I stuck to dialogue here. The thing about Rose is that she's just a lady. It takes her ages to start to get her feet under her-- to trust that she has any capacity for leadership. And still she's out of her depth a lot of the time, so it's rare for her to have any grandiose soundbites.

But she's witty and brave. Bit of a brat. She meets the horrors of the world with compassion and pluck. And, personally, I think she's rather funny (especially in banter).

Is this the part where I learn you’re a vile rat instead of a cream puff?

If you weren’t so concerned with my melting you might have melted too!

I’m as good as an open book to someone like you. No reason to pretend I’m not. Leliana and Josephine would kill me for admitting as much, but there you have it. Only one of us was trained by Lady Mantillon.

Picking bits of chocolate out from between a stranger’s tits feels a touch bold.

Perhaps you resent her because she’s a little bit right. Elves have been denied rights and representation just as often as mages.

You put me here. On this bloody throne. You knew what I was. What I am. So imagine how I must feel when I hear something like that.

You should really rethink your height at the very least.

Given the state of the Inquisition’s finances, I’m not sure what I can hope for. A burlap sack with a wine colored sash perhaps?

That’s kind of you, Bull, but I’d appreciate knowing your objections ahead of sallying forth on the wings of my wild optimism.

Yes and with my eloquence, I’ll be lying face first in my own pile of metaphorical horseshit

I've half a mind to make a fool of myself with the Nug King. Maybe three-quarters a mind.

There’s nothing quite like a family with a storied lineage that’s managed to squander their wealth. The combination of snobbery and desperation is always a joy to behold.

It’s comforting to know I’m worth less than two trebuchets to you

I suppose the legend of the Herald has its uses, but it’s not for everyone. Some people would rather see that I’m frightfully ordinary.

It looks like the Veil is just over there up in the sky. But it’s everywhere isn’t it? Right here where we’re standing. Under the ice on the pond. Inside these tents. It’s strange to think of. Before all this it was easy to forget there’s magic in all of this.

Tagging @warpedlegacy, @skinwalkingxana, @ammoniteflesh, @kiastirling, @delicatefade, @samseabxrn , @crackinglamb, @breninarthur anyone else who wants to jump on!

#Rose Trevelyan #OC: Rose Trevelyan #Dragon Age Fan Fiction #Rogue!Inquisitor #In the Shattering of Things #Dragon Age Inquisition #Hawke x Trevelyan #Cullen x Trevelyan

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 8 months

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Assuming Aro and Carlisle were both on the same dating app, what are their profiles like? Ie, how do they present themselves to attract others (and I know they're already in relationships let's just blame the dating app gift vampire).

Bonus points for Elezear because he's the worst.

I want to know what AU has caused vampire dating apps.

I can only assume we're in one of those cutesy AH AUs where Carlisle is a barista (not allowed to be a doctor anymore) and Aro is a cutthroat lawyer at his practice Volterra, and the pair totally aren't into each other except they are and find out over the course of thirty chapters how these two get together over hard to remember coffee orders!!!, or as you say the Dating App Vampire, we'll call him Larry the Lovebird, has used his gift to bless every vampire with profiles.

But alright, I can pretend this is another blog for a moment and that I do write Ao3 fics instead of eldrtich monstrosities.

Aro

We know from Aro's hunt for Sulpicia that he was looking for a very specific kind of person and not afraid to shop around to find them. More, with his gift and long life, I imagine he'd be less willing to discard someone based on things others do (having a degree is not a sign of intelligence, he doesn't really care what class someone is from, so on and so forth). I imagine he'd take a similar approach on a dating app. Except, in the most ridiculous way possible.

See, Aro's going to want to cast a wide net and he has his gift to cheat.

So, he's going to make himself as interesting as possible, certainly non-threatening (me? ever kill someone? perish the thought) just to get that first date where he can touch your hand and decide "yes" or "no" based off of every thought you've ever had.

Now, he can't do "generically" interesting as in online dating culture "long walks on the beach", "love hiking in the mountains", are all things everyone says they do but 5% of the people who actually say it do. He'd not only look basic, but he'd look like a liar (which he is).

So, I imagine what Aro does is present himself as a very niche persona then change that persona every few months in the dating rounds.

One month, Aro's really into heavy metal, really, super, into heavy metal. His profile is a bunch of quotes about heavy metal. The next, he's a gym bro. The next, he's a lover and poet.

Mostly, Aro just uses it as a way to meet interesting people, get interesting stories, and troll around while keeping an eye out for someone he'd actually find interesting.

(Though the real answer is that he wouldn't, as he already did this thousands of years ago with Sulpicia, and it doesn't seem like a hobby he'd pick up in this modern day.)

Carlisle

He fundamentally does not understand dating apps and has no desire to seek someone out in a relationship "oh ho ho, have I told you about my baggage where I'm a man-eating demon who can never get close to everyone, survives constantly starved, and more?"

I imagine his app is just his name and his face.

That's it.

He looks like a lazy attempt at cat fishing.

Eleazar

Now, I don't know about Eleazar, his participation in the Denali escapades is technically up in the air, but I know the Denali would likely have dating apps.

But if Eleazar had one, if we're going wtih my interpretation of the worst man alive, then it is a sight to behold.

Eleazar in leather pants with a rose between his lips (he is Spanish you know) lying on a couch looking at the camera seductively behind a black and white filter (partly to make him look less like a demon, partly for the sexy). Eleazar shirtless in front of a mirror in an artsy shot that looks either out of a style magazine cover or the film Zoolander.

All the quotes amount to "I will blow your mind", but said more eloquently and often in Spanish.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #aro #carlisle cullen #eleazar #meta #headcanon #opinion

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universejunction · 4 months

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I always had mixed feelings about Mr. Tumnas (Narnia). I mean, I have mixed feelings about the whole series now that I've realized it's Christian allegory and I'm ex-Christian. But Mr. Tumnas was my favorite character ever.. for maybe 10 seconds before I realized this shirtless faun in a scarf was not, as I first assumed, a girl faun.

My expectations of debauchery were so much higher than what I got.

#behold my eloquence

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talonabraxas · 4 months

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Address to Venus By Lucretius

Delight of Human kind, and Gods above;

Parent of Rome; Propitious Queen of Love;

Whose vital pow’r, Air, Earth, and Sea supplies;

And breeds what e’r is born beneath the rowling Skies:

For every kind, by thy prolifique might,

Springs, and beholds the Regions of the light:

Thee, Goddess thee, the clouds and tempests fear,

And at thy pleasing presence disappear:

For thee the Land in fragrant Flow’rs is drest,

For thee the Ocean smiles, and smooths her wavy breast;

And Heav’n it self with more serene, and purer light is blest.

For when the rising Spring adorns the Mead,

And a new Scene of Nature stands display’d,

When teeming Budds, and chearful greens appear,

And Western gales unlock the lazy year,

The joyous Birds thy welcome first express,

Whose native Songs thy genial fire confess:

Then savage Beasts bound o’re their slighted food,

Strook with thy darts, and tempt the raging floud:

All Nature is thy Gift; Earth, Air, and Sea:

Of all that breathes, the various progeny,

Stung with delight, is goaded on by thee.

O’er barren Mountains, o’er the flow’ry Plain,

The leavy Forest, and the liquid Main

Extends thy uncontroul’d and boundless reign.

Through all the living Regions dost thou move,

And scattr’st, where thou goest, the kindly seeds of Love:

Since then the race of every living thing,

Obeys thy pow’r; since nothing new can spring

Without thy warmth, without thy influence bear,

Or beautiful, or lovesome can appear,

Be thou my ayd: My tuneful Song inspire,

And kindle with thy own productive fire;

While all thy Province Nature, I survey,

And sing to Memmius an immortal lay

Of Heav’n, and Earth, and every where thy wond’rous pow’r display.

To Memmius, under thy sweet influence born,

Whom thou with all thy gifts and graces dost adorn.

The rather, then assist my Muse and me,

Infusing Verses worthy him and thee.

Mean time on Land and Sea let barb’rous discord cease,

And lull the listening world in universal peace.

To thee, Mankind their soft repose must owe,

For thou alone that blessing canst bestow;

Because the brutal business of the War

Is manag’d by thy dreadful Servant’s care:

Who oft retires from fighting fields, to prove

The pleasing pains of thy eternal Love:

And panting on thy breast, supinely lies,

While with thy heavenly form he feeds his famish’d eyes:

Sucks in with open lips, thy balmy breath,

By turns restor’d to life, and plung’d in pleasing death.

There while thy curling limbs about him move,

Involv’d and fetter’d in the links of Love,

When wishing all, he nothing can deny,

Thy charms in that auspicious moment try;

With winning eloquence our peace implore,

And quiet to the weary World restore.

Venus Transit Pluto Talon Abraxas

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pavo-ocxllus · 11 months

Text

« rewind. / pause. / fast forward. »

"ah, you're back."

shinobu was the first person you saw as you walked through the doors of fontaine legal firm once again. "i won't lie to you, i was starting to think something had happened when you didn't show up until now—halfway through our lunch break."

"i guess i've been that busy, heh..." you rubbed the nape of your neck sheepishly.

"be careful not to overwork yourself... i know we had just thrown a rookie like you into our messy work situation on the first day, but let me know if you need some time to yourself."

"don't worry about me!" you grinned. "after what i've been through, i can take anything you got!"

the green-haired, young woman smiled, her violet eyes crinkling a bit. "alright then... go ahead and have your lunch break."

"got it!"

"do you need me to get to your cubicle? it should have no name plate on it yet."

you assured her that you'd be fine, and off you went in search for your little office. ah, to be an official attorney! there was nothing like having a well-deserved break after the few hours that gone by... maybe you'd ought to get a little bit more work done to get ahead.

speak of the devil, you've heard your phone buzz from your pocket. fishing it out, you opened it up, seeing you got few texts.

ah, if it isn't by beloved partner! (well, soon-to-be beloved partner, but i digress.)

unfortunately, the lack of evidence for our cases is holding us down. me and my acquaintance are working to search for some (specifically for the case regarding itto) and i was wondering if you would like to join the two of us? it'd serve as a great learning opportunity! ;)

- heizou

the way he questionably texts like he talks and how he somehow got your number we're pushed to the back of your mind when you suddenly heard yanfei from the distance.

"[name]!" before you could greet her back, she cut you off with your news. "great news! we're making a little bit of progress in tartaglia's case!! not-so-great news, he kind of broke out of prison-"

"WHAT—yanfei, you can't just say that-!"

"it's alright!! the police are already on the case... and if he doesn't show up to his court date, he'll get a bench warrant and be back in custody so we could run his trial! though, it isn't exactly guaranteed if we'll ever find him..."

the young attorney started to mutter herself, walking away from your shocked figure as her words started to become more and more incomprehensible.

you sighed to yourself, before looking at your lunch again. this was definitely a matter that would require a better state of mind... and for that, you need to get some food in your system.

unfortunately, your plans to eat were thwarted once more.

"hey."

upon hearing the familiar voice before digging into the undoubtedly delicious lunch you've packed, you narrowed your eyes before glancing behind you. 'lo and behold, alhaitham was standing before you.

"you."

"i was about to think you've changed after we graduated from law school, but i suppose i'm incorrect," the way he talked never failed to vex you.

did he even work here? maybe shinobu was correct about overworking yourself and you were reaping the consequences of your actions by having delusions. however, it only took a glimpse of his i.d. badge mirroring your nonexistent one to (unfortunately) confirm that he indeed, worked here.

"what do you want?" you asked, then taking your lunch to set it on your lap and started to unpack it—you weren't about to let him further delay your lunch!

"shinobu still insists for me to work with somebody on my case... and given you're not the lead attorney in any cases as far as i know, i'm considering to push our quarreling aside in the name of professionalism."

that was the most eloquence he carried in his voice when he talked to you... but never mind that!

↳ agree to work with him. perhaps it was about time to set aside your differences and be mature, working adults for once!

↳ you can't—you're dead set on finding tartaglia. something tells you that you won't find him unless you're there yourself... but that could be just uneasiness.

↳ you weren't planning on going with heizou to go evidence hunting—but that seems to be a way more interesting than whatever alhaitham's doing.

↳ you were on your lunch break for a reason! refuse to work with him—you have some more important things to attend to.

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫? 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞! <𝟑

#𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞.!#𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠: [𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲! 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭...!].!#tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #heizou x reader #arataki itto x reader #itto x reader #gorou x reader #cyno x reader #xiao x reader #albedo x reader #diluc x reader #alhaitham x reader

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coveredinsun · 1 month

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i wrote 3 different winnix fics in december & january but i realized i NEVER posted them here. so behold, my series of winnix fics where i get further and further detached from canon, and where i also make lew a girldad for fun

1. darling, it’s grand, they just don’t understand

“Act upon what he finds within himself, and only himself,” said Dick, audibly pensive in a way he hadn’t been. “I quite like that.”

“Well, that’s the gist,” said Lew with a shrug. He wasn’t even in the top half of eloquent men. “Honestly, I really hated reading and analyzing Emerson’s essays. He found a way to talk and talk and talk about nothing at all, when he could’ve kept it perfectly concise.”

Like you, Lew almost said. The bullet got jammed. Still, he had a hunch that Dick could read his mind this one time.

Or: July, 1948. Blanche Nixon invites her brother, and his business partner slash lover, to… a baseball game?

6.5k words, fluffiest of the three; my weird band of brothers/a league of their own (2022) crossover fic??? whatever. blanche invites winnix to a baseball game to see her baseball player girlfriend-ish, all the way mae. stupid emily dickinson references because i’m lame and basic, sue me. gay jazz clubs :)

2. november 27th

“Kathy hates it when I call her Maggie, but I think it’s cute that she’s got a little nickname to grow out of.”

“Or maybe she’ll find someone who calls her Maggie,” replied Dick, totally without thinking. “And he’ll say it’s ‘cause it’s easier, sure. But more than anything he’ll like the way it sounds when he says it.”

When Nix looked at him, then, his eyes glittered. His lips were pursed like he needed to say something or he’d shrivel up and die.

There were many things Dick could conceptualize him saying. Luckily, they fell into two neat categories—the things Dick expected Nix to say, and the things Dick wanted him to.

Or: 1942, 1944, and 1946. A study on Lewis Nixon’s history with love, destructive vices, and fatherhood—as seen from the eyes of a wife and a lover.

8.2k words, perhaps the most densely packed with angst of the three. examines lew and his relationships with love and fatherhood, both alongside kathy and alongside dick. ann winters introduction <3 and classic new jersey angst

3. the likes of me abide

“Well, I feel compelled to be a little more brave now,” replied Dick, holding up his gaze like Atlas held the heavens. “I ought to give you an answer that’s more honest.”

But not fully. It was sort of bitingly ironic, the way Lew always put up Dick as the more honest of them. He didn’t find that to be true. Not when there still existed so many selfish desires in his mind, like the one that practically clawed and scratched like an animal just to fit somewhere into this part of Lew’s life. He might never put that desperation into words.

Or: Summertime, 1951. Lew gets back in touch with Kathy.

10.3k words, angsty but less intensely as last time. i go reallyyyyy ham with kathy’s character in this, so take that as a treat. i also actually make lew and kathy’s daughter into a character <3

#just in case people still check this tag #ship of theseus-ing winnix one fic at a time! call that the winnix of theseus #aka the saga of girldad lew🫶#<- he deserves it. take that statement however you want #band of brothers #winnix #lewis nixon #dick winters #<- i HATEEEEEE tagging their names sm😭😭😭😭#band of brothers fic #my writing

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mc-lukanette · 1 year

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As a seer of fate, Luka's job wasn't always easy. Some had worse fates than others, meaning some also had more difficult strings to deal with. He considered it his job to figure them out and explain to them what destiny had set out for them, as well as how to work with what they were dealt.

Being a Couffaine, he couldn't relate to them. His family was a long line of "fate breakers" (as his mother had so eloquently put it), meaning they were born without destiny even touching them. He suspected it had something to do with how they were able to see it: there was perhaps something too haunting about knowing one's fate - in some cases, their curse - for all to go well. That was why he strived to tell people what he saw only if they asked.

He'd never wanted to help someone so badly before her.

——-

It was a day like any other. Luka was sitting in the corner of the park, his signature guitar marked with the symbol of fate seers in his lap, when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up, blue eyes meeting blue as he was greeted with a shy smile. The girl had black hair and delicate pink lips, and he could tell by the way she moved to the ambiance of the world that she was exactly his type. He felt incredibly lucky today despite knowing that good and bad luck weren't something fate seers experienced; only by coincidence.

"Hi," she greeted, hands behind her back as she swayed from side to side.

"Hey," he greeted back.

"Um, you're Luka, right?" She scratched her cheek. "I'm Marinette. Juleka - my friend, your sister? Or, no, I mean, your sister, my friend is the better order - sent me here to see you."

Ah. Now it made sense. It also explained Juleka's cheery yet strangely ominous text he'd gotten an hour or so ago that was nothing but a wink. They appreciated similar types of girls, so it checked out that she'd send her his way.

Still, he doubted she would send her to him for no other reason than for either bragging rights or for him to simply behold her himself, so he responded accordingly, "Yeah, I'm Luka. How can I help?"

She hummed, clasping her hand together in front of her waist. "Ah, sorry, I've never done this before, but... she said that you could read fates?"

He nodded. His sister never had any interest in honing her abilities, but she'd likely sensed that something was off if she'd sent her. "Has something been happening to you?"

"Yeah--er, I guess always? I've been clumsy and unlucky ever since I was little. There's also this boy..." She made a dismissive hand gesture, not wanting to talk about it yet. "A-anyway, I thought it was just me and so did everyone else, but then Juleka told me that I should meet with you."

That confirmed his suspicions at least. "Alright. Can you come a little closer?"

She stepped forward as requested, hands clasped at her waist politely. He tried not to squint, mentally activating his senses to see what he was working with.

He saw a flash of red across an invisible string, similar to a light shining off of glass, but he was puzzled by how much he was seeing. He wondered if perhaps the string had tangled itself around her, or maybe if there was at least a second string on her that was causing his confusion. It was rare, but not impossible for it to happen.

Then, his sensing clicked in fully, his mouth dropping open at the sight.

She didn't have just one, nor two, nor four strings. She had many, enough that she almost resembled a marionette. His eyes darted around at each one, unable to focus on only one.

Red strings could mean all kinds of things given how they were placed: luck, enemies, lovers, and so on. She had all of the ones he knew of, and the thought that someone could have so many unnerved him.

"Luka?" Marinette called, concern on her face. While people often questioned his abilities, she seemed to recognize that he was looking at something that hadn't been there before.

He put his poker face back on, not wanting to unnerve her when he didn't know all the details. Strings could be positive, even if it represented clumsiness, and he wouldn't truly know until he tested it himself.

Holding his hand out, he asked, "May I?"

She blinked at him, then stared down at his hand with a faint blush. Nevertheless, she settled her hand onto his and he took hold of the string tied around her finger. He couldn't take it off, but he could take the part that hung off and use it.

Marinette watched him as he carefully propped the neck of his guitar against his shoulder, doing what must've looked like miming to her. He felt the string shift and change in his hands, going from string that might be used to sew to the string on his guitar. It attached to the space on his guitar that was blatantly missing a string, allowing him to play it as though it were normal.

Eyeing Marinette's reaction, he grabbed the red string and gave it a pluck. She couldn't see it, but jolted in surprise at the sound that played at his movement. It was cute how she crouched down to look at the guitar more closely as if that would help her see it, which helped distract Luka from his worry.

Not tuning was crucial for his example even if it was instinctive, so he brought his hand up to the strings and let his fingertips glide downwards, brushing each string as they went.

The moment he hit the red one, his hand went stiff. Marinette flinched as well at the utterly unpleasant sound that came from it, not at all matching the other notes. The fact that she reacted badly as well was never a good sign, unlike all of the other things he'd noticed which at least had the chance. A string that sounded bad to the one it was attached to always meant that fate wasn't in their favor in whatever the string represented.

"I should look at the others," he decided, beckoning her closer with a hand. He hoped he didn't sound desperate, but it wasn't looking good so far. "They might sound better."

"There's more than one?" she wondered in faint alarm.

Still, she accepted, and they spent the next few minutes trying out the various different strings that she had. She watched in a mixture of wonder and trepidation, both of them hopeful that the next string might do well.

Unfortunately, said hopes were immediately dashed as each of her strings sounded.

"I've never even heard about so many," Luka mumbled to himself as he grabbed the last one, watching it go slack when it changed back to a thread in his hand.

"Ah," Marinette uttered. "What does that mean?"

He hesitated, lifting his guitar and tilting it back and forth in thought. Wracking his brain for ideas, he grasped at the only thing he could think of, saying, "...Let me try something."

He reached back into his bag, pulling out something that made Marinette gasp.

"W-wait! What are you doing?!"

"I'm going to play all your strings at once. Maybe it'll be better together."

"But--!" She snagged his wrist to prevent him from cutting. "Your guitar strings don't need replacing!"

"It's fine. I've got plenty." he assured with a smile.

They locked each other in some sort of staring contest, neither one of them bending to the will of the other, until Marinette sighed and gave in. She let go of his wrist, but made a show of crossing her arms and pouting.

She wasn't genuinely angry at him, so he found it adorable.

"Do you do a lot of work with your hands?" he asked, trying to fill the silence as he cut each string and removed them.

"Huh?" She gave him a skeptical look. "Uh, yeah, actually. How'd you know?"

"Your hand," he pointed out, "when you put it on mine. I could tell."

She didn't respond to that, but when he glanced away from his guitar to check her expression, she could see 'you noticed something like that?' playing across her face. There was a lot one could tell about a person by the way they reacted to the little things, and it made his smile widen knowing that she felt seen.

As he went about putting the strings on one at a time, he explained the strings in as much detail he could. He imagined that it was a hard concept to grasp without the experience and the fact that she still couldn't see them. He didn't want to keep anything from her at that point and hoped that her knowing might somehow put her at ease as opposed to fearing the unknown.

Then came time to test playing with only her strings on his guitar, which went exactly as well as one would think. No untuned guitar of his had ever sounded as horrid, and he got some dirty looks from some nearby civilians for it.

He would like to say that it sounded as though his guitar was cursed, but with the strings attached it felt like it might as well be.

He looked to see Marinette still crouching down in front of him, her hands pressed to her cheeks as she made the same concerned expression that he was. They were silent as he undid the strings, him still trying to process everything that had happened. He needed time to think it all over at minimum.

Marinette spoke up when it was clear that the last string had come off, "W-what do I do?" Her palms rubbed against her cheeks in her anxiety. "If none of them are any good, is that really just--my lot in life? Do I have to—"

"Hey." He reached out, leaning awkwardly over his guitar in order to put a hand on her shoulder. "You're not alone in this, Marinette. I can't tell you what'll happen and I don't know how deep my ability can go, but I want to help you. We'll figure this out together, okay?"

Her eyes searched his uncertainly, but he remained still and firm in what he'd said. Her problems may've run deeper than any others he'd dealt with, but he was determined to help out no matter what. She didn't deserve this.

Finally, she smiled gratefully at him, his conviction having broke through to her. "O-okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette #((Yes this is what Dread String would've looked like in a No Miraculouses AU.))

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