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valley-of-headcanons · 4 months

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The males or ladies seeing you really dolled up, like to the 10s make up and all.

I like to think the Farmer looks pretty beat up and dirty most the time so seeing a dressed up farmer would be different XD

bachelors seeing the farmer all dolled up || headcanons

seeing you all dolled up is enough to floor some of our handsome men <3

warnings: feminine! farmer :) pronouns are gender neutral but the farmer is definitely in touch with their feminine side!

requested by: anon! hi, thank you so much for the request! i decided to just do the guys this time around for simplicity's sake since you said or, but i would absolutely do the bachelorettes if you sent in the request! anyway, hope you enjoy! :)

alex

• Alex would be absolutely floored. As someone who was so in touch with his masculinity that it consumed him at one point, he adored how you looked. The toxicity was behind him, finding solace in his own identity. Watching you find solace in your own identity warmed his heart. Plus, you were gorgeous! Of course he couldn't keep his eyes off of you!

• When he was going to bring you out to a fancy dinner in the city, he was surprised to see you so dressed up. His jaw was dropped, staring at you in awe. He rested his hands on your sides, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. He then moved his hands to your cheeks, giggling like a mad man. He was so excited to see his partner all dolled up.

• “God- look at you. You're so gorgeous- I mean, you're ALWAYS gorgeous, but holy ... you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, and I just ... I love you. And I'm so glad you put all this effort into lookin' all pretty for me. Now, let's go to the city. I'm gonna show you off, gorgeous.”

• While out on the town, Alex was proud to be by your side. He was enthralled by your appearance, happy to have such a gorgeous person on his arm. All throughout dinner, he complimented you. Every single thing he could think of slid out of his mouth, taking your hands in his and kissing your knuckles. He was absolutely enamoured by you, regardless of how you look, but this was just something new about you.

elliott

• Elliott is obsessed with you in general, but when you put effort into what you wear or how you present yourself? He kisses the ground you walk on. Of course he wants to appreciate how hard you work, even if it's not necessarily for him. You're so beautiful in his eyes no matter how you look, but he cannot get enough of you when you look like this. Absolutely floored. Awooga, if you will.

• You two were getting ready for an event regarding his latest novel. He asked you to dress nice, but he didn't expect ... wow. You walked out in the most amazing outfit, and your makeup was absolutely phenomenal. Elliott stared, slack-jawed. After a moment of staring, he cleared his throat. He got on his knees in front of you, kissing your knuckles and not even daring to blink. He certainly has a dramatic flare.

• “Oh ... my ... goodness. I have been blessed to witness such a sight. The gods themselves have sent you down to me. For the first time in my life, you have rendered me somewhat speechless. You ... you light up my life every day, and you keep giving me blessing after blessing. I couldn't ask for a more beautiful human being in my sight.”

• While at his book signing, his focus was almost entirely on you. You were just so beautiful, all of his attention was toward you. No one noticed, aside from you. He read an excerpt from his book with a smile, although he did have to peel his eyes away from you. They were planted on you there after, and when he took you home, he showered you with compliments. He was always affectionate, but this just made you even more gorgeous in his eyes.

harvey

• Harvey is an incredibly respectful partner, so he tries to compliment your personality over your looks. You're gorgeous, of course! He would just rather make you feel good about yourself mentally rather than physically, no matter how much he enjoys both aspects of you. But when you look so gorgeous, he can't help but short circuit.

• He wanted to take you to Zuzu City for a date, he thought about taking you to the newly opened aquarium. So, he mentioned the idea to you and you agreed. He didn't expect you to dress so nicely for the event, but when he saw you ... his face was bright red. His jaw was slightly agape, before clearing his throat and attempting to keep his reaction to a minimum. He didn't want to make you think he hated it, quite the opposite.

• “My dear ... you are- ... stunning. I didn't really uh- expect this tonight, so pardon my reaction, but ... you amaze me more and more each day. Your outside beauty certainly matches your inside ... I don't tell you that enough. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. I mean that with every fiber of my being. You are so, so gorgeous. Tonight, and every night.”

• Harvey was more than happy to have you on his arm all night. You looked even more gorgeous in the soft blue light of the aquarium tanks. The way your eyes glistened as you stared at the creatures made the shade Harvey's face grow deeper and deeper. It is very easy to get Harvey flustered, you didn't even have to try this time around. He couldn't believe he was with someone so pretty.

sam

• Sam is such a devoted partner, so he tries his hardest to show you affection 24/7. But when you look so beautiful ... it comes out at a rapid pace. He has no filter, and it shows in moments like these. But why would you want to stop the compliments that he throws at you? His intention is to make you feel good!

• He had been invited to a music event, which had a black tie dress code. Of course you were his plus one, and you planned out the most amazing look for the event. And when he saw you ... he didn't really want to go to the event anymore. He just wanted to stare at you for maybe the rest of his life.

• “Holy. Fucking. SHIT! How do you look so good?! Why haven't you shown me this sooner?! My GOD I am the luckiest man on the whole entire PLANET! If I weren't with you right now, I would ask if you're single! And then I'd probably fumble the bag because I don't know how to hit on people- I don't know how I got you in the first place- which is still insane because LOOK AT YOU! Holy FUCK!”

• You two do end up going to the event, but his eyes are entirely on you. Every time the camera panned over to him, his eyes were always on you and talking with you. You were his muse, and the cameras definitely saw that. He loved shooting soft compliments your way, holding your hand and giving you cheek kisses. He is really in love with you.

sebastian

• Sebastian is a pretty nonchalant person, trying his hardest to stay on the "cool" side. You're definitely his soft spot, though. You are strangely good at warming him up. Your personality, your looks, your ... everything. But seeing your looks turned up to ten? Oh, he would not be able to comprehend how amazing you looked.

• Sebastian had asked you to go to the movies with him, there was something in theaters that he thought you both might enjoy. But when he saw you all dolled up for the first time, he was absolutely stunned. Sebastian had a whirlwind of thoughts that wouldn't come out properly. His face was blank at first, before slowly growing pinker and pinker. He tried to turn his head to the side, shielding it from your view.

• “... you look really, really pretty. All this for a movie date? I-I didn't really go all out, but I can go back and change ... sorry, I shouldn't be hiding my face. I'm just flustered and shit ... you're too gorgeous to handle, I guess? God- that was stupid ... you've got me fumbling with my words again. I can never be cool around you ... maybe that's why I like you so much ... now- let's get going, gorgeous. Don't wanna be late now, do we?”

• During the movie, it's safe to say Sebastian couldn't concentrate. His fingers were interlaced with yours, trying to watch the movie. However, he made several glances your way, taking a peek at his lovely partner. He was down excruciatingly bad for you, it was pretty obvious. He made sure to give you a few kisses on your cheek and forehead, a token of silent appreciation for the work you put in. He was so happy to be with you, regardless of how you look.

shane

• Shane would probably not give much of an external reaction. He's not a very expressive person, but his mind ... oh, he would be exploding at the seams. He loves you regardless of how you look, and he finds you remarkably beautiful either way, but he can't help but feel his heart pump a little bit faster when you're so gorgeous.

• When you two were about to go out for a date night, he didn't give you a dress code necessarily. He didn't tell you what you two were doing either, he decided to surprise you. So, you'd rather be overdressed than underdressed. But when Shane saw you ... his face flushed a gentle pink and a soft smile lingered on his lips. He couldn't speak for a moment, taking in your beauty, and letting his mind reset.

• “Wow ... aren't you somethin'? ... I didn't expect to see you all dolled up tonight, but ... wow, I am so glad I am. You're beautiful, by the way. If you didn't know that by now, you're fuckin' stupid. And I'm fuckin' stupid for not matching you. Let me change into something a little more fancy than just some jeans. I know, you're making me step outta my comfort zone ... but you deserve it. Especially when you look so beautiful.”

• While on the date, he tried to keep his comments on your appearance to a minimum. He didn't wanna be too overbearing, but he didn't want to make it seem like he didn't care. He was definitely overthinking this, but ... when he made eye contact with you, he realized everything was fine. You were just so gorgeous, his mind was absolutely boggled. He couldn't believe the person he loved the most had the added bonus of being so stinkin' cute!

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honeybeezgobzzzzz · 1 year

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🎃 A Truth Universally Acknowledged: Chapter One

A Truth Universally Acknowledged: It has long been established that you don’t like Dream of the Endless, and he doesn’t like you. Unfortunately, fate has decided to stick you both in a glass cage for a century. Who's throat will be torn out first? Yours? Or Dreams.

Warnings: Reader and Morpheus do not get along, Maga is latin for witch.

To Note: Morpheus x WitchFem!Reader.

Prompt: Role Reversal

Word Count: ~7.7k

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Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

It was a truth universally acknowledge that should one mortify a pride, forgiveness would not so easily be obtained. So how were you ever expected to truthfully forgive someone who had not just mortified your pride, but trampled on it until there were permanent stains and tears in it. Nothing would sew your pride back together, and nothing would remove the stain of insult rendered upon your being. The season of 1815 had not just rendered you mortified, it had shattered your pride. It had started out as an average season, as an immortal witch you’d decided to spend that year in London to enjoy the frivolity of the marriage mart.

Now, on all accounts by no means were you looking to be married… what sane mortal would willingly wed a witch? But you did enjoy the social aspects of the English balls and liked to dress up in fancy clothing. You certainly had the fortune to do so after living for so many centuries. So you had gone to the modiste and ordered several dresses for the season, and had even splurged on a few new jewelry pieces for your collection to have as a memoire of this time. You’d lingered at the fringes of the first couple of balls, but were slowly mingling further and further into the ton.

At some point you had made a friend out of one of the bachelors searching for a wife. It had been clear that neither of your were particularly romantically interested (which was better for you int he long term) and had taken to meeting up every ball to gossip and preen over outfit choices and who had committed a faux pax over luncheon. It was pure fun for you and Henry was certainly getting your experience in searching for a new wife. You had pointed out a potential match you thought would suit the young man quite nicely when you caught sight of an omen. Well it was less of an omen and more of an irritant.

The Dream Lord had no reason to be in the Waking Realm, it was your turf, and just like you respected his realm, it was only right the he respected yours. For what reason had he come to London when you were there? Nothing good, that you were sure of. So you headed for the parchment table full of lemonade for surely it wouldn’t be nearly as sour as the conversation you were sure to have with him should your paths cross.

Grasping the skirt of your dress to keep it out of your way, you glided across the room with clear intentions to parch your throat. The train of your silk dress trailed behind you in a soft bed of blue flowers carefully stitched into the tulle overlay. Carefully grabbing a glass of lemonade you took a sip as Lady Camden joined your side.

“Lady Bell,” She greeted you, using your alias. You nodded to her with a dip of your chin in greeting.

“Lady Camden, a pleasure to see you tonight, I noticed the Lord Richards was quite taken with you while you were on the floor. Do I suspect a match in your near future?” You replied with a tease in your voice. Her eyes sparkled and she fanned herself with her gossamer and feather fan.

“I surely hope so,” She softly giggled, her doe-like eyes flittering over to where Lord Richards was speaking with a few other eligible men. Ah to be mortal and in love… what you would give to feel that fleeting emotion once more.

“I am confident he shall do so, for he would be a fool to do otherwise.” You stated, taking another sip of your lemonade. You and Lady Camden made more merry conversation while you blatantly ignored the dark and brooding menace lingering in the fringes of the ballroom. It was only when the band started up music once more that you placed your glass down and looked to the dance floor. The next set of dancers were due and perhaps someone would invite you. Your hand was indeed asked for a dance and you happily accepted.

You danced line with the other woman, exchanging partners a few times and all around enjoyed yourself immensely… but on the next partner change you found yourself spun into his arms. You nearly smacked his hands away from your body when he caught you but managed to safe face purely because you had a good reputation among the ton and planned remaining in England for the next several years. They wouldn’t take well to you smacking the Dream Lord senseless on the dance floor. So you grit your teeth and forced yourself to remain calm.

“My lord,” You greeted, barely covering the tinge of hostility within your voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure of your visit?”

Lightning crackled within his stardust gaze.

“Presumptuous of you to assume that I am in attendance purely for your leisure,” His lip curled just the slightest and your eye twitched in return.

“Then what, pray tell, brings you to such an event as this? I am sure you are far too busy with your duties to indulge in the leisures of man.”

“One could ask you the same, Lady Bell,” Dream rebutted. “Surely such whimsical mortal activities are below the standings of a prominent witch such as yourself.” Oh that was an insult if you ever heard one. You didn’t bother maintaining pleasantries with the Dream Lord any further and cut to the point.

“Why are you here?” You boldly questioned. Suffice to say you didn’t directly ask why he was there being a nuisance to your festivities. You did hold some self-preservation in regards to pushing his temperament. Annoyance flashed through his blue eyes.

“A wayward nightmare, presumptuous of you to assume that I am here for you.” Oh the complete audacity of him to assume that you wished for his presence! You could count on one hand the number of times you willingly sought his presence let alone wanted it. None of those times had been your own desire, but out of necessity.

“The audacity of you to insinuate that I would ever desire your despicable and repugnant presence! I would rather lose my magic than willingly spend time with you, you loathsome cad.” You hissed at him, your eyes flashing with the color of your magic. Morpheus’ hackles rose at your audacity to speak to him as such and immediately fired back at you.

“You dare to speak to me in such tone and disrespect Maga!?” Dream growled at you. The floor beneath your slippers shivered and groaned as the music was interrupted by the argument between you and the Dream Lord. You and he were causing a scene. Jerking back from the menace of the Endless, you glared heavily at him.

“I simply dare to speak my thoughts when you have called for such words as clearly you have infringed upon my life in a way that I do not care for!” A lady should never raise her voice, but your mind was so wrapped up in anger and despite that all call for decorum and manners went out the window. “I have been nothing but respectful towards you, my lord, yet you cannot afford to do the same in return?”

“My respect is offered to those who have earned it and you and your promiscuous ways have far exceeded my limit.” You blanched at his words as gasped echoed within the ballroom. “You are a harlot pretending to be a hare. Sharp tongued and wicked.” Just like a snap of a fan, Dream had just reduced your hard earned reputation to ashes and all for what? Your words of truth?

“You are the most deplorable and depraved being I have ever had the displeasure of meeting, my lord,” You spoke with an even voice despite the trembles that now wracked through your body. “I hope you rot in hell,” Further dramatic gasps went around the room at your harsh words. But at this point you had no care because he had just ruined everything. Grabbing at the skirts of your dress, you gave Dream one last murderous glare and fled the ballroom before the talk could start.

Why did he always have to ruin everything.

Your pride was still very much ruined even after a century had gone by. Oh yes, your pride was ruined and your hatred for the Dream Lord still burned like the great Sirius. You hadn’t crossed paths with the Endless’ since that fateful night in 1815, and you were glad so. You probably would hurl a flaming ball of plasma at his stupid pretty face the moment you caught sight of him. Not even his one act of kindness during the witch trials could stop the burning hatred you felt within your heart. He might have saved you from burning at the stake, but now you held nothing but contempt for him.

You huffed to yourself and shifted where you sat, chains ratting as your arms moved. It was by sheer luck that Roderick Burgess had managed to get his hands on the grimoire that held the spell to bind you. A downright miracle that he had performed the ritual correctly to actually keep you in place. So stuck down in the bowels of Fawny Rig and sapped of your power due to his siphoning, you had plenty of time to contemplate past memories. You had no idea why that particular one of Dream humiliating you and mortifying your pride stuck out.

You hadn’t come face to face with him since that day, and while you did occasionally like to cause disturbances for him (because you were vindictive at times), you hadn’t really thought about in since the turn of the new century. You’d been too busy with new witch magic and the search for ancient grimoires. Now you were locked up in a basement with plenty of time to think about your past.

Roderick Burgess was a greedy man.

It wasn’t enough that he repeatedly stole your magic from you, no, he was taking it all every time you recharged in hopes that he could resurrect his son Randall. Resurrection was not possible. You had told him that straight to his face and earned a backhanded slap from the elder mortal. That had been the last time you reminded him of the truth. It was easier to just repeat the rules of magic and avoid mentioning resurrection all together. Tugging on the shackle around your left wrist, you chewed on your lip as your raw skin ached and burned.

The old metal had cut your skin and then dug in to your broken flesh, leaving behind half broken scabs and trails of dried blood. You had suffered worse during the witch trials, but you disliked the discomfort of your current ailments. You were immortal, not invincible or impervious to death. Speaking of Death she was actually quite a nice friend to have, unlike her brother. Your face soured at the thought of him once more and you crossed your arms over your gathered knees to rest your chin on them.

Repugnant man. His face was cloudy in your mind, hatred had blinded you to him so much you couldn’t exactly remember what it was like to glare into the face of that Endless. Heartless cretian. The iron gates creaked as your captor strode into your confined solitude… but he wasn’t alone this time. No, he was followed by his acolyte all robed and covered. While the acolytes began drawing in the sandy dirt floor with red chalk and light candles, you eyed Burgess.

“What more power do you wish for? Is it not enough that you drain my magic? Are you that desperate for your son?” You questioned the man with a sneer on your lip. “You are grasping at the straws of an empty barrel.”

Rather than take the biting words spilling from your mouth, Burgess lashed out. The back of his hand cracked across your cheek. Pain blinded you for a brief moment as you tumbled to the side, your unwashed and messy hair falling into your face. You spit out a mouthful of blood and touched your throbbing lip. Split. A chuckle passed through your lips.

“Testy today, are we?” You giggled darkly, eyeing the mortal through your curtain of hair. He gave you a look in warning. The next hit would knock you out. So you kept you mouth shut as you maneuvered your body back into a sitting position. Content to see Burgess fail for what seemed to be the thousandth time, you leaned back against the steel column you were chained to. They were still getting ready so you took to nudging the dirt beneath your feet around with your big toe.

It wasn’t particular interesting to watch them until they began drawing sigils you recognized. Straightening up in your seat, you stared at the crimson markings in puzzlement because how could Burgess know of these markings? Your eyes flickered back to him and you saw an old book within his hands. Grimoire. How had he gotten his hands on such a book!? Grimoires were sacred tomes that a witch would die before allowing into the hands of a mere mortal! You wanted to demand him where he had gotten such a book, but knew that you would get no answer from him. You’d get smacks though.

Licking the blood that bloomed from where your lip had split, your eyes turned scrutinous. Just because he was drawing correct sigils, did not necessarily mean he knew what he was doing or was doing it correctly. But the longer you watched, the more concerned you grew, while you didn’t recognize this particular combination of sigils, everything else was frighteningly correct. You could make out a few binding sigils, so he planned on binding something other than yourself (you pitied the being caught by the amateur). But there were also summoning markings.

“Summoning,” You murmured to yourself, brow furrowing as you struggle to figure out who Burgess could possibly want to summon after getting nowhere with you. The mortal didn’t spare you a glance, but he had heard your murmur. Of course you’d recognize what he was doing.

“Yes, since you are so resistant to aiding me in my wants—”

“Which are entirely impossible,” You interjected before earning a glare from him. You raised your eyebrows as if to say ’continue?’.

“—I shall summon and bind another being that will help.” You snorted and rolled your eyes because what creature would ever help such a greedy mortal like him? Desire perhaps? No. You might not have met them, but even they had standards. Roderick Burgess fell far below that line. Far, far, below. So you slumped back and closed your eyes, they were going to have to wait for nightfall for whatever summoning they were going to two as the moon boosted summoning magic. You wanted to be ready for whatever hell Burgess unleashed upon himself.

The gods were punishing you. That was the only explanation. Why else would Burgess’ botched summoning circle summing the one being in all of creation that you despised the most? Punishing or laughing, you were unceremoniously dragged from your seat to be locked up in some fancy globe that was currently being welded shut with you and Dream in it. It was downright laughable! Burger seemed smug enough about it though, he was confident that Dream would give him what he wanted.

He wouldn’t, and the mortal would soon find out. If the stupid, deplorable, loathsome, Endless would just wake up already!!

You didn’t know exactly what kind of magic it took to summon an Endless, but it sure did take a lot out of Dream. He’d been out since arriving and had yet to wake. You also didn’t know how powerful he’d be without his tools. A faux pas on his part you took great glee in knowing. And yet, if he was out of power just like you… how were you going to get out? You’d consider that later, right now you were just concentrated on glaring at the lingering man responsible for your situation.

He had regretted binding you upon learning of your unwillingness to cooperate. He was going to be in for a rude awakening when Dream woke up and gave him his ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude. Leaning back against the thick cold glass, your eyes trailed along the freshly welded seams of the cage. How want Burgess going to siphon your magic with you locked up like this? The mortal in question, almost as if hearing your thoughts, strode up to the hanging cage and stared at you with a glare. Your eyebrow twitched in challenge.

“No need to worry about our little sessions, witch,” He told you, his blue eyed tight and heavy. “I can still take your magic with you in that cage.” You were tempted to mouth off on him since he could smack you around anymore, but between your split lip and mood sullied at your future trapped with him, you chose to remain silent. Crossing your arms against your chest, you leaned your head back and closed your eyes. If there was anything you learned about Burgess, it was that he hated being ignored.

He eventually left when the glass cage was completed and the workers all trickled out, only two guards remaining behind. To watch you and Dream you suppose… but exactly where were you going to go? Your stomach rumbled and a new worry emerged. Being immortal didn’t mean that you didn’t need to eat. It wouldn’t kill you to starve but you weren’t exactly excited about the idea. The 1500s had been hard enough, you didn’t ever want to get that thin again. You sighed and reminded yourself that you had gotten through tougher times once more.

“Think of all the spells you can curse him with when you get out,” You whispered to yourself, trying to distract yourself from reality. While you were mindlessly flickering through memories of your travels over the centuries, the Endless you were crammed in the cage with began to regain consciousness. He didn’t move, not even a muscle but the minuscule amount of magic you had recharged since your last draining altered you to his alertness.

Narrowing your gaze, you glared at the naked Endless (you were guilty of appreciating his beautiful body for about five seconds before you remembered that you hated him) and waited for his eyes to open. When they did, you cursed him for having such beautiful eyelashes. You, of course, were he first thing he saw and the Endless could have sworn he was hallucinating you after such a long period of not having to deal with you and your annoyances. But then you blinked, scowled deeper at him, and curled your lip.

“Welcome to Fawny Rig.”

Dream hadn’t uttered a single word or sound since waking up in the glass cage with you. Hadn’t answered to Burgess’ demands when the mortal had come to make them. Hadn’t commented when Burgess turned to you and taunted you with freedom, you had just rolled your eyes and looked the other way. Now you were nodding off, so he followed you. You had been on his mind on and off over the last century, the incident in 1815 notwithstanding. Your anger and rage at the Endless was still palpable ever after all these years.

He suppose he deserved your anger, but he believed that nothing he had said that night was wrong. He did see you as promiscuous as you were close with many and at times flirty, and your tongue was sharp and wicked. No one else in all of creation clashed with him like you did, not even his sibling Desire. It was infuriating. Materializing in your dream, Dream was surprised to find himself in a familiar place. The same estate in which you and he had your explosive encounter in 1815. What had caused your consciousness to think of this?

Him, most likely, but the Endless wasn’t smart enough to think of that.

It wasn’t hard for Morpheus to track you down, you were the only one existing other than he within your dreams. So walking the corridors, he happened upon a back balcony where you were standing. Your back was to him and face turned upward, gazing at the luminous full moon overhead.

“Is it not enough that now I must see your face every day?” You grumpily complained, not bothering to look at him. Dream’s eye twitched at your words because was he not Dream of the Endless. It was by his powerthat you had the ability to dream in the first place!

“I see that your tongue is still just as wild as the last night I reluctantly spent in your presence, Maga.” You shot a glare over your shoulder, eyes connecting with thunderous blue.

“And I see that you are still a loathsome creature without an ounce of compassion or dignity!” You hissed at him, eyes flashing. “Or do you take pleasure in ruining a woman’s hard earned reputation in front of an audience?”

“I spoke nothing but the truth,” Dream spoke to you, his chin lifting while his eyes glittered with anger. Insolence and insult from you yet again.

“Yes, the truth of how you see me!” You snapped at him. “But have you considered how your insidious words might affect me in the long term? I had a life in England until you ruined it! You are nothing but a big bully who throws words around when you don’t get your way!”

Now that really made Dream angry, but you didn’t remain in place to experience his blow up. It had been far too long since you had been able to dream like this and you just wanted to rest. He called your name but you just ignored him. Surely he would understand that you just wanted to be left alone. At the very least the irate Endless could indeed feel that you wanted to be left alone… but his curiosity of how you ended up in that decrepit basement. So he followed silently behind you as you made your way to a bedroom in the large estate. Lingering in the doorway, Dream stared at your back in distaste, trying to remember why he disliked you in the first place. He couldn’t remember.

He walked over to the foot of the bed and glared at you further, thinking back to the first time he had met you. Surely something within his memories would trigger the reason for his great dislike for you. He found no immediate memory, just those of your torture at the hands of the witch trials and saving you, the brief visits you had within his realm, and— Dream was distracted by wounds dotting your wrists. Eyes sharpening on the wounds, Dream’s eyes followed the signs of restraint. They were far from new and were in varying stages of healing. Then his eyes found the lingering blood on your chin and lip. Someone had struck you. Who would dare to strike a witch of your caliber and standing? Roderick Burgess no doubt, he had no shortage of gall and greed.

Your guards figured out early on that you and Dream did not like each other. You two squabbled with your eyes and facial expressions, well you mouthed off to him in a one sided conversation for Dream never said a word… but you appeared to understand each and every twitch of facial muscle the Endless made. It was rather impressive and yet, Burgess got nothing he demanded from Dream. He still got his power from you, yes, he never failed to siphon that… but get Dream to obey his demands? Absolutely not.

After your last shouting match you had purposefully squirmed yourself around so you were cramped against the glass with your back to the Endless. You were refusing to look at him and the Endless refused to acknowledge your presence. Gods the Endless annoyed you to the core! Why did you have to be trapped in this stupid cage with him, it was driving you insane!! You growled under your breath and slumped further against Dream’s hard shoulder. Superficial arsehole.

The years had come and go, and after nearly a decade of being trapped with him, your digs at each other had slowly ebbed. Boredom, of course, was on the forefront. But you spent a lot of time with what little magic Burgess left you with maintaining your body so you didn’t waste away to a skeleton. You had already lost a decent amount of weight, your hipbones were pronounced and the vertebrae of your spine were all very prominent. Even Dream found your state uncomfortable to look at, but with you constantly presenting your back in refusal to look at him he had nothing else to look at. You were counting the number of times the guard threw a ball against the side of the stone wall when Roderick came down for his monthly siphoning.

The elderly man, not having aged a day since summoning Dream, strode into the room and settled his eyes on you. You were back to being a sullen and pouting wench, subdued by your current predicament. But he knew that at the drop of a hat you’d turn into a fiery hellcat and spit crude insults at any who dared to gaze upon you. Your wicked side was merely laying in wait, slumbering. Burgess prepared himself for siphoning your magic, muttering the incantation beneath his breath for he had memorized it by now. With the spell activated, he walked to the edge of the summoning circle and stared at you.

Your shoulder jerked a little as the meager amount of magic you had regained flowed out of your body and to the mock wizard. Grunting as the strain of over siphoning made your limbs twitch you hunched in place and struggled to grasp at what magic you could keep for yourself. Not much, regretfully. Your fingers clenched against the skin of your chest, for the pain you felt there was not new to you but still just as uncomfortable as it was the first time he’d stolen your magic.When the last few embers of your magic floated free from your soul and traveled into Burgess’ chest, you let out a strained wheeze and slumped in a weak ball against the glass. How did you have any magic left to give now? Your weakness was making it hard for your body to recuperate the magic lost.

As you lay limp as a rag doll with labored breaths, trembling ever so slightly, Burgess turned his gaze to Dream. He had a deal for the Endless, surely Dream would be happier without you there to snarl and argue with him.

“I have a deal for you, Dream,” He spoke, cold eyes observing the Endless. He was sitting with his ankles crossed and arms hanging over his knees. He hadn’t moved from that spot in decades despite you squirming around next to him. Dream couldn’t help but raise his eyes to the mortal. What would he try to bargain with this time? “I will let the witch go, if you bring back my son.” Dream almost laughed at Burgess’ words. He’d release you if he brought his son back? That wasn’t happening, it would never happen. Even if Dream could bring his son back. A brief look of disgust flickered across Dream’s face and that was all the answer the mortal needed.

The Endless would let you rot next to him rather than do anything to help Burgess.

“You are positively the worst,” Your voice croaked from where you had your forehead pressed against cool glass. “I hope you know that Dream. The. Worst.” He’d take that over you getting a win in any day.

Something in the air had changed. It was a palpable feeling you’d woken up to this morning and it had kept you on edge since. Your boney back had leaned heavily into Dream’s shoulder as you looked upwards at the eaves overhead. Something was off. Something didn’t belong. You just didn’t know what. The dust that floated in the air vibrated with a different frequency, one that wasn’t of this world. If only you weren’t so weak you could have pinpointed out what it was! Despite your uncertainty of what was going on, you decided to voice your thoughts since the guards post was empty.

“Something has changed.” Your words brought Dream out of his internal thoughts. His eyes opened and he stared ahead at the empty guards table. Nothing appeared to be different, but your senses had always been exceptional. Even with you in a weakened state. He said nothing, of course, but silently acknowledged your words. Now on alert, Dream scanned the empty basement slowly. Nothing was out of place. The something fluttering at the gate to the room caught his attention.

Like a beacon of light, Jessamy wormed her way through an opening in the wrought iron and perched on it, heading cocking side to side as she examined her Lord and Master in his glass cage. Of course she also noticed you laying limp next to him, but her concentration was on her master. The raven fluttered into the room and swooped up to the cage, banging herself and beak against thick glass to break it. Hope combined with happiness filled Dream’s face as he rose to his feet. You simply rolled your head to look up at Jessamy, glad that someone knew you were down in this decrepit basement.

Hope was beginning to bloom in your chest, for you hadn’t been this close to freedom since capture. But just as soon as that swelling feeling grew within your bosom it came crashing down. There was a loud crack that shattered Jessamy’s attempts to break the glass and before you knew it black and red was splattered against the cage. You gasped with a stricken sound catching in your throat. Oh gods, Jessamy… Alex Burgess was standing several paces behind with a gun raised. Your eyes burned because while you might have a particular distaste for her master, she was a good acquaintance. Now she was gone.

You watched as Dream slowly lowered himself back to the floor of the cage, unaltered shock plastered on his features. It was like he was still trying to process what had just happened. But his eyes… Oh you could see the tears quickly gathering and something within you cracked. Burgess came bursting into the room in a fit of rage, shouting at his son for potentially breaking the glass that kept you and Dream trapped. But you were entirely focused on Dream. You’d never seen him cry, you didn’t even think it was possible for an Endless to cry. But the devastation on his face wasn’t a fluke or a trick of the light, tears were flooding his lashes and his nose was beginning to run.

Even the great Dream of the Endless was capable of ugly crying? You were moving before you even realized what you were doing.

Boney arms reaching for the Endless, you pulled him to you and tucked his face away from prying eyes. Your fingers absentmindedly found themselves stroking his midnight hair while you began murmuring several death rites for Jessamy. She had been an exceptional companion to Dream and clearly the Endless had cared for her. She hadn’t deserved to be killed in such a way. Mid rites, you felt Dream shift within your arms and thought that he might lash out at you for daring to touch him so intimately… but rather than do as expected he leaned into your embrace in a slump.

You nearly started crying yourself the moment you felt his tears drip onto your skin. He’d never been this vulnerable in front of you before. No, you were sure that he’d never been this vulnerable ever. You ought to be happy to be experiencing something so rare, or even happy that he was hurting after all the social destruction he’d caused you… but all you could feel was pain in your heart because it had only come because of a death. The basement which had always been cold, damp, and dark, was now a tomb marred with blood and death. You found that you hated the way Dream trembled within your arms, and for each tear he shed, your hatred for the Burgess’ grew.

Burgess’ death had ben anticlimactic and incredibly disappointing. You had wanted him to burn for thousands of years for the pain and anguish he had caused Dream, and for his imprisonment of you. He’d gotten off far too easily dying from just a head injury. He deserved so much worse. So much worse. It was your only hope that he had ended up in hell where he belonged. You would have looked on the bright side if Alex hadn’t decided on taking over his fathers job siphoning your magic.

He feared that you’d grow to powerful if left unchecked.

Your lack of magic was beginning to seriously take a toll on your body. Without a steady source of magic to supplement the nutritional intake you’d normally have, your body was taking muscle and fat from you. If Dream thought seeing the vertebrate more pronounced was disturbing, it was nothing compared to your entire spinal column. That’s why you’d gone back to sitting side by side with him, to hide just how depleted your body was becoming after over a decade of imprisonment. You often rested your head on his shoulder when fatigue overtook you and were lucky that t he Endless allowed such a thing. With tiredness ruling within your mind and body, you decided to close your eyes for just a moment to rest them.

The grounds of the witch trials greeted your eyes, and a sharp tingle of fear ran up your spine for but a moment. Even after two centuries had gone by, the memories of your experience at the hands of the crazed people and witch hunters still haunted you. You still had the brand of the christian cross upon your shoulder. The old mark burned in memory and your rubbed your shoulder as it ached. Sometimes when the memories were strong enough you could swear you smelled the scent of your flesh burning as the red hot iron cross was pressed into your flesh. Your eye twitched.

Why were you having this dream? Why were you remembering these horrors now?

Refusing to look at the gallows where the noose swung ominously, you turned in the direction of your old home. After crossing the ocean on a colony ship, you’d taken to assisting the local doctor. Many colonists fell sick after making the voyage and you had faithfully tended to and nursed them back to health. You had given the Salem community nothing but kindness and what had you gotten in return? The witch trials. The people you had come to care for and love, had turned on you in a blink of an eye.

Technically speaking, you were a witch. But never in all your years of living had you ever considered using your magic to do harm. Why would you wish to uproot and ruin the happy life you had? Nonetheless you had been branded a witch (literally), and set to hang with the other ‘guilty’. You were the only witch in Salem.

You found yourself in your small home, everything exactly as you remembered. Your basket of medical supplies sat by the door, the hearth with its pot hanging above waiting to be used for dinner, your bed. You touched the threadbare blanket. It was just as scratchy as you remembered, but it had kept you warm. Your hand went to the rough fabric of the waistcoat you wore. You’d forgotten how hot it was to wear the full outfit. So you began stripping yourself of the thick materials, your waistcoat going first, then your dress. Now just standing in your simple shift, you let your hair down from its tightly pinned position and shook it out.

“Can’t say I enjoyed the rigid customs but life was quite peaceful for a time,” You mused to yourself, exiting your old home and heading to the nearby river. On Saturdays the women of Salem always did the laundry for the week and during the summer months it was nice to cool off in the water. This dream was making you feel hot and a nice cool down with a dip in the river sounded nice. Your feet followed the path to the river on automatic, even after over two hundred years you still knew it like the back of your hand.

The river was cold. It always had been. But it was a nice break from the heat you felt. The ends of your shift were rapidly soaked and pressed against your skin as you sloshed further into the river. It was funny how even the rocks at the bottom of the crystal water still looked exactly the same. Walking until you were waist deep, you shifted a few stone not he river bottom with your foot. It was strange that you were in a dream. Dream had been locked in a subdued and moroseful state that hadn’t changed since Jessamy’s death. You hadn’t had a dream since then, so why were you having one now?

“Best not to question and simply enjoy,” You stated pragmatically before dunking yourself beneath the water. Floating for a few moments beneath the chilly water, you let yourself relax and just stay hunched in place. The current were you were was fairly weak so you didn’t have to use much effort staying in one place. Standing back up, you pushed your hand over your wet hair. While you were observing the fading sun on the horizon, the dream around you shuddered for a moment. Then the sun disappeared and the entire dream darkened to nightmare.

Your head swirled to the land behind you which the disturbance had originated, and you saw a thunderous looking Dream standing behind you. What had gotten his knickers in a twist? This was your dream, what could you possibly dream of that would make him so upset?

“Dream, you’re disturbing the peace,” You quietly announced, attempting a soft pointer given his rather fragile state. His glowing eyes flickered for a few moments, then faded back to starry blue and the dream returned to its normal. As the summer heat returned, you observed the being closer to figure out what had caused him to go all ‘Endless’ on you in a dream. He still looked enraged, barely containing it behind his pretty blue eyes, his jaw locked, even his fists were clenched. “Dream?” You prompted him again, hugging your arms around your body because you were as good as naked in front of him and unlike he, you did care about people seeing your naked body.

His lashes flickered and eyes narrowed.

“You never spoke of bodily harm,” His voice came out rasping and deep, echoing the emotional turmoil you could feel and see. What was he talking about? Your apparent confusion to his words only made the Endless scowl at you. “The mark upon your shoulder, Maga,” He growled darkly, stepping closer to the rivers edge. “You never spoke of them hurting you.”

Your mind went blank as you processed his words. He was… angry that you’d been hurt? Well he wasn’t just angry at this point. He was enraged at the idea. Your face screwed up some and you half turned in place so your neck wasn’t screeching at you for the unnatural strain you were causing it.

“There was no need. You stopped my hanging, what more did you need to know past that?” You questioned, still very confused about why he would be so upset by the mark of an injury that had happened over two hundred years ago. It had long since healed. For some reason Dream got angrier at your words. Once more he took more steps, closing in on the river. “You didn’t even need to stop them from hanging me in the first place. Why would I tell you about them branding me?”

Dream’s eye twitched as he furiously questioned in his mind why you hadn’t informed him of what the morals had done to you.

“They hurt you,” He reiterated, stressing out the word hurt like it would explain his reasoning to be upsetto you. It did not, but you didn’t want to pick a fight with him when you had been on such cordial terms with him.

“It was over two centuries ago, Dream,” You answered him, resting your hands against your chest and looking own at your fingers. You remembered how bloody they had been after being beaten by the towns people. “I’ve long since put that in my past.”

It seemed that no matter what you told the Endless, he was still very upset over the fact that you had been hurt in the witch trials... so you decided to shift the conversation because the breeze was making you chilled.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Dream, would you please turn around?” You asked, looking down at your wet body. The white shift was still very much see-through. Dream titled his head to the side, his face telling you that he didn’t understand why you were asking for such a thing. “My shift is wet and very much see though at the moment.”

Dream didn’t understand why you should ever feel the need to be self conscious over your naked body but did as you asked. When his back was to you, you sloshed your way back towards the rivers edge. Once there, you carefully stepped towards the path leading back to your home. However, Dream heard you heading away from him and promptly turned around.

“You asked me to turn around and then design to sneak off?” He questioned, eyes boring into your back and lingering on the branded cross on your shoulder. You froze in step.

“I am in my shift that is currently see through, Dream,” You reminded him stiffly. “I’m not in presentable attire to be speaking with you at the moment. If you wish to continue conversation you are going to have to wait until I am dressed accordingly.”

Dream, while having innumerous patience, simply could not find the ability to be so at the moment and strode up to you, coat in hand. He dropped it around your shoulders and continued walking towards your home.

“We will be finishing this conversation whether or not you believe yourself to be in presentable clothing.” He stated, striding confidently ahead. You stared agape at his back, fingers clutching the star laden coat around your shoulders. Finishing this conversation? You still didn’t understand why he was so upset over a brand you’d gotten two hundred years prior, but followed him nonetheless.

It was nice to just talk with Dream of the Endless, rather than fight.

Holding up a facade of okay health had taken every bit of your concentration. What magic that ran thorough your blood now went entirely to preserving your life the best it could. You stopped counting the years after fifty. It was pointless as Alex was so fearful of what Dream would do should he let the Endless out, that there was zero hope of you getting out of your cage. So you just stuck to developing a non aggressive relationship with Dream, and it was… nice. More than nice actually. You got to see the other side of the Endless you hadn’t seen before.

It had to have been a century by the time Alexander Burgess made his last visit to the decrepit basement of Fawny Rig. He was old, frail, and nothing like the youthful boy who had murdered Jessamy. You knew he’d spent most of his life tormented by the knowledge that you and Dream sat in this cage in the basement of his home. A bitter satisfaction came from that knowledge, and yet, you couldn’t help but pity the man for being so weak. Overshadowed by his older brother to the very end. A fitting ending for the Burgess lineage.

As Alex spoke his last word and sat back down in his wheelchair, Paul began to push him away from the cage. Less than a second went by and you felt a massive ripple of power run through you. You jerked where you sat, holding in the gasp that wanted to crawl from your throat, and looked at Paul. He was looking back at you, and then at the ground. Following his gaze, your eyes widened when you spotted the clear break in the circle binding both you and Dream in place. Gods above. Your eyes didn’t shift back to Paul’s as he wheeled Alex out. A broken circle meant that Dream had a grasp on his power, a broken circle meant that you could use your own magic outside of your body!

A tremble began in your body as you forced yourself to remain calm and silent. Nearly 110 years of captivity and freedom was within your grasp because of Paul? You knew that Dream could also feel the change in your captivity, the muscles you could feel against your body had gone rigid the moment the circle had been broken. He knew he had his chance and without a doubt would be taking it. Hunching in a ball, you began murmuring all the incantations for low level teleportation magic. You didn’t know if you had enough magic to complete even an entry level spell, but you’d take which ever spell got you out of this place.

While you were concentrating, you felt the sands of Endless magic caressing your skin. Then gunshots and yelling, glass shattering, one of your spells activated and your eyes flickered open in triumph. Fingers clasped tightly together, the last you saw of Fawny Rig was unconscious guards and the glowing aura of a seething Endless. You’d never seen him so angry, so enraged. Your fight or flight instincts kicked in and your mind echoed one thought and one thought only: run.

Date Published: 10/5/23

Last Edit: 10/5/23

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angelshizuka · 13 days

Note

Oooh okay okay, permission to be a little petty? This has been eating me up for a minute! On the topic of the helluva/hazbin redesigns: there are a lot of times in the critical side of this fandom where I’ll see people talking about what they would “fix” about the character designs, and like you said- some of the specifics people think they need to fix just…undermine the point of the character?? (I.e making Stolas big and burly) But it also feels like they’re ignoring that these characters look the way they do because they have to be ANIMATED. There’s been a handful of times I’ve seen people with that “fix it” attitude where they just waaaaay over complicate textures and shapes then say it’s so much better. For example some were saying Blitz’s design was bad because you can’t tell his burn scars were burn scars because the edges were too round. So they completely rendered the scars in their redesign and said they fixed it. I absolutely understand wanting to make detailed artwork. I LOVE detailing the hell out of a character in a drawing!! But to animate?? Especially with helluva where the spindle horse team doesn’t often outsource its animation?? I KNOW it’s silly but sometimes in passing I want to be like- ok. YOU animate your incredibly complicated redesign for a 20 minute animation at 24 frames per second. Then you get to handle the budget you’d need to get it finished and add in lighting/effects/etc. Then you ALSO get to handle the complaints from people who say episodes take too long to come out. Animation is a HUUUGE process! I feel like the work it takes to make it look so good is really taken for granted :,)

(I should be in bed so I hope any of this makes sense lmao I’m so sorry in advance!! Love your account your takes are so well thought out and you’re very funny <3)

Yes, thank you for your excellent point, I totally agree!

I mean, I will always defend CGI animation (I'm a firm believer all animation mediums are beautiful and valid), but I feel like it's spoiled people in how detailed a character's design can be. While part of the charm of 2D animation is how simplified lines can still get so much across.

It's been more than a decade since I studied animation and we only really did puppet animation, but even with that I quickly realized my designs could never be as detailed as when I just made a stand alone drawing (also, rip to my old animations that are lost to time, because my hard drive died a few years back...)

I'd honestly argue that for 2D animation standards the designs are really detailed. Maybe not for every character, but that's part of the beauty of it. Just like how in real life not all people dress all fancy and complicated, some people prefer simpler outfits, and they know how to make that come across in the character designs.

Especially Blitz is a prime example of being tailor made for 2D animation, that's also part of why some of the best facial expressions come from him, they know how to play around with his face shape. Regarding the scars, it's not just a 2D thing, it's the fact that imps scar differently than humans. So, again haters claiming they "fixed it" by completely ignoring lore.

(Aw, thank you! I try my best to put my thoughts into words and it helps make sense of whatever the hell is going on up there. I take a lot of pride in it, because my mother complimenting me on "knowing how to word things" was one of our last conversations before she passed.)

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sleepyfan-blog · 4 months

Text

Day One

Author’s Note: Hagiel’s No Good, Terrible Mission part 1. Next

Playlist for this fic series: Spotify Youtube

Tagged: @undeaddream , @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Warnings: canon-typical violence

Summary: Hagiel talks to some nobles, helps begin repairs to one of the damaged hospitals, and is invited to a fancy dinner.

word count: 3,278

The battles had been long, brutal and back to back. By the time that Hagiel and the small patrol of Brothers he’d been assigned to had finally killed and burned the last of the orcs off of this world, the planetary governor had informed them that a Drukhari raiding vessel had been barrelling towards the planet. They’d scrambled into their barely-functioning Battle Barge, leading what was left of the planetary defense forces in a pitched and desperate fight against the cruel, chaos-tainted Aeldari. When it became clear to the capricious near-immortals that whatever they’d been gunning for wasn’t worth the effort, they’d left, but not before crippling The Resolve’s primary engines out of spite.

It had killed all of the serfs and tech priests on board as the radiation and promethium leak killed them. It had killed half of his remaining brothers as they stopped the leak and repaired the engines to the point that The Resolve was able to move again… And teh radiation had rendered their gene-seed unsalvageable. Once The Resolve was safe enough to land, Hagiel’s superior ordered them to do so… Just in time for a small fleet of fucking Tyranids to arrive and attempt to consume everything in their path.

Hagiel had tried to keep positive, or at least hope that reinforcements would arrive before the system was overrun. The surviving planetary defense force had helped them hold the line as the civilians evacuated in as orderly a fashion as possible. The tyranids had managed to land on Karsos three. The primary world in the solar system and had caused a tremendous amount of destruction to the principle hive city.

The tyranids had been killed, and the surviving civilian ships returned. Hagiel had spent the last three days collecting his dead brothers’ corpses, retrieving their geneseed and other vital organs if they were still useable and storing them properly on the Resolve, and burning their bodies, as was custom for his chapter. Hagiel didn’t know why he was the sole surviving member of his patrol… But the god emperor had him spared the oblivion of death so he would continue to serve faithfully.

General Wuelt - the leader of the local astartes who had recently taken over as the interim commander in chief of the remaining Planetary defense forces after Admiral Rufus had sacrificed himself and his badly damaged command ship to destroy the primary Tyranid control vessel. He approached Hagiel in the half-destroyed space port that the Resolve was docked at.

Behind the General was Lord Shyrc - the Governor of Karsus three, who had stayed behind until either the last of their people were evacuated…. Or Hagiel and the mortal defensive forces managed to save the day. They were speaking in low tones with their vice governor, LadySablescar.

“You called for a meeting, Lord Angel?” Lord Shyrc asked as soon as they were within conversation distance.

“Yes. I have news and I have bad news. Which do you want first?” Hagiel asked, tension boiling in the pit his stomach had become.

“Bad news first. More xenos trying to kill or enslave us?” General Quelt guessed, weariness exuding from the human “I’ll really my forces… My condolences on your loss, Lord Angel.”

“Nothing immediately life-threatening like that…However the relief aid that was supposed to arrive today? It has been delayed indefinitely. We have seven solar days until a group of Ultramarines lead by one of their company captains comes to inspect this city and take the Imperial Tithe and exacta required of the worlds in this system.” Hagiel explained, trying to keep his emotions out of his voice "They are being sent here on the orders of the Imperial Regent himself.”

“... Well… Fuck. That’s some shit news alright.” Lord Shyrc groaned. They pulled out a silver hip flask and drank deeply from it before offering the flask to General Quelt, who took it silently and drank deeply from it as well. The planetary governor heaved a sigh and said “I’m guessing that the Ultramarines are expecting to see a functioning capital city instead of… This.” They gestured to the still smoking half-destroyed wreck of a hive city that the spaceport gave them all a stark overview of.

“You are correct.” Hagiel confirmed with a nod, anxiety-induced nausea clawing at his stomach. “Despite the lack of relief aid, we need to try and get this city ready for inspection. Ultramarines are , as you all are doubtlessly already aware of, well known for their attention to detail and protocol.”

“I’ll contact my underlings and have them round up everyone who is able bodied and non-medical to immediately begin unfucking the city.” The general rumbled,already typing away on his fox communicator.

“Lady Sablescar and I will rally the remaining nobles and merchant clans, to get the material stockpiled for such disastrous times to the places they are needed most… May I inquire as to what you plan on doing, lord Angel?” Lord Shyrc asked, gray eyes looking him over assessingly.

“I do have some experience and training in both structural repair, as well as search and rescue. I plan on aiding in the reconstruction of the major hospitals in this city, before aiding in finding any civilians trapped under the destroyed parts of the city who may still yet live.” Hagiel explains.

The mortals nod and each head off to go wrangle their people into getting this city ready for inspection. With any luck, they should be able to get the city ready for a glancing inspection in time… Or so Hagiel hopes.

There used to be seven large, fully-staffed and stocked hospitals in the hive city. Between the Tyranids, the orcs and especially the Drukhari, five of them were utterly destroyed, along with all of the infrastructure in the immediate area within a quarter-mile radius. Arbites had been deployed in those areas, not only to search for survivors and bring any usable medical supplies to the two only partially destroyed large hospitals… And to discourage attempts at looting in these utterly destroyed areas.

Hagiel went to the less-destroyed hospital in the northern sector of the half-destroyed hive city, moving carefully through the densely packed streets, occasionally stopping when a baseline human called out, asking for his assistance with something or another, aiding them however he could. When he was asked if he knew where any loved ones were, Hagiel shook his head and suggested that they speak with one of the Arbites patrols about reuniting with loved ones, as that was not something he was in charge of.

He could see that the baselines were already starting to patch up their homes and businesses with whatever they had to hand, which was heartening to see. Sometimes the despair and cruelties inflicted upon them caused the baselines to go into a state of numb catatonia and they needed to be prodded into movement, and continuing on with their lives. Or at least.. Most of them were. There were more than a couple of times where Hagiel had to step in as a group of desperate frightened humans would try and coerce and threaten a lone or pair of humans for whatever they had on them. Hagiel would not allow such cruelties to happen when he could stop it, firmly scolding the would-be thieves while protecting the victim until the Arbites arrived and processed the desperate criminals.

It took him several hours to get to the northern hospital due to the aid that the baselines had needed that he couldn’t help but give them, and he arrived just in time to help lift a large piece of collapsed wall where several heat signatures could be detected in his visor. Before the first aid staff could rush in he held up a hand, curling it into a fist, which they knew meant stop.

Yes,amongst the rubble and debris there were a half-dozen semi-conscious medical staff each in varying states of injury, but there was also a mid-sized Orcish bomb buried in the rubble as well. It hadn’t gone off, but it still had explosives haphazardly and quite dangerously shoved inside of the crude metal casing. Some of the liquid explosives had leaked out of the rusted metal and dripped onto the floor in a thick, viscous puddle of danger. “I will remove the injured one at a time. I need the rest of you to evacuate the surrounding rooms, on this floor as well as any higher and lower floors. Orcish ordinance is notoriously difficult to disarm.” Mostly because it shouldn’t actually work and should explode the moment it was touched or moved. Especially once outside of the WAAAGH! Field of an Orc Warboss.

“Yes, lord Angel!” the leader of the repair team of baselines called out, immediately barking orders and ensuring that their people were moving in as efficient a manner as possible “Is there anything we can do to reduce the likelihood of this thing going off before we can get everyone clear?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know of any sanctioned psykers trained in telekinetic manipulation who are on planet and in a fit state to use their emperor-blessed abilities, would you?” Hagiel responded with a sigh. Drukhari bombs were difficult and deadly to try and diffuse, but it was in fact possible to do so. Tyranid didn’t do bombs like this, prefering to use psykery to stun or disable an opponent before consuming everything in their path.

“... No sir, but I’ll ask around.” The repair team leader answered, shaking their head a little.

Hagiel sincerely doubted that one would be found in time - if there were any such trained psykers left alive in the system. The trained psykers who had been present before the battles either died fighting bravely against the waves of enemies, or were critically exhausted and unable to serve safely - and the last thing any of them needed was a daemon possessing an exhausted and desperate to serve psyker because their attention wavered at the wrong time. He carefully picked up the nearest injured baseline, having knelt down and slowly pulled them out from under the desk they’d wedged themself under, before walking over and handing them off to the nearby emergency medical team, two of whom whisked them off on a stretcher.

The next four injured humans were just as easy to pull free of the remaining wreckage of what remained of the large room that had been mostly destroyed. The final baseline woke as soon as Hagiel touched their shoulders, a low, pained whine leaving them as they jerked in surprise “Who…Who are you?” The human slurred, squinting up at him, pupils different sizes.

“I am Brother Hagiel of the Lamenters third company. I am pulling you free of the wreckage of this room and putting you in the hands of those who can patch you up.” Hagiel responds, deciding to forgo telling them about the unexploded orc bomb in the remains of the room. It would only cause upset.

“But… But I… Need to finish my shift… There’s… So much left to do… We’re over capacity with the damn xenos trying to kill us all…” The baseline slurred, shifting weakly in his arms.

Hagiel’s voice was firm, and brooked no argument “You have a concussion and are badly injured-” His gaze quickly swept over the other’s uniform “-Medicae Smith. You need to be tended to first, before you can care for anyone else. “

The civilian medicae grumbled in his arms, but didn’t try to leave them again, which made Hagiel’s job easier. He also made sure that the civilian didn’t see the large, still-dripping bomb in the middle of the room, not wanting to deal with the potential emotional fall out of that. He gently placed the other down on the waiting stretcher and pulled the other baseline humans who were working on trying to repair the hospital away.

Just in time too, as Hagiel saw a crumbling bit of wall fall from a higher floor of the hospital and land directly on top of the Orcish bomb, causing it to immediately explode in a bright, fiery explosion. Hagiel threw his arms wide and stood between the baselines and the explosion, knowing that his armor could take the heat and shrapnel without difficulty.

Once the after-images of the explosion was blinked out of everyone’s eyes, Hagiel noted grimly that despite the fact that there was now more structural damage done to the hospital… The explosion had cleared several large debris piles that would have taken hours to clear with the tools that the baselines and he had in time.

The Lamenter hadn’t thought that he would be grateful for the years he had spent stuck on Terra, working and training alongside Imperial Fists, but the training that they’d given him on how to build and reinforce all kinds of buildings was incredibly helpful to him as he helped to guide the search and repair efforts of the northern hospital.

By the time it was sunset and the baseline humans were being relieved of their duties in order to eat and rest, with Hagiel’s assistance, the hospital had been fully cleared of debris and into a semi-working order.

Hagiel intended on working for several more hours in the evening before finding a spot to sleep for a small handful of hours in order to recharge. The finely dressed baseline human picking their way through the hospital’s hallways from the click-clack of the heels they were wearing and the quiet, respectful-anxious murmurs of the other baselines as whoever it was walking towards where Hagiel was currently holding in place a large metal pipe as the baselines swiftly put it into place as he easily held it up while they did so. It would take heavy machinery or a half-dozen baselines (or a couple of Ogryn) to do what he was doing by himself, and they needed all the human-power that could be spared getting both semi-functional hospitals up to basic standards in order to help the injured.

“Excuse me, Lord Angel Hagiel?” A voice in slightly accented High Gothic called out as the click-clack of heels came up behind him.

Hagiel shifted a little, making sure that the pipe stayed exactly where it was supposed to as the baselines continued to nail it in place to the freshly reconstructed inner wall. “Yes, Zie…?” He asked as he looked over one shoulder at the sharply dressed baseline standing in the dusty hallway.

Their hair was tightly curly, and was kept in place by dozens if not hundreds of very tight small braids. Gold and platinum bands caught the dying sunlight, as did the golden star sapphire necklace and earring combo they were wearing. They were in shimmering, brightly dyed silks that flowed like water in the slight breeze. He could scent light perfume or cologne clinging to their skin, reminding him of water lilies. “I am Brady Flint, and the Lord Governor asked me to track you down and extend to you an invitation to take your evening meal with him and the other surviving nobles of our fair city - and the greater system. He says that your presence at the dinner would be greatly and deeply appreciated in this.. Fraught times.”

Dealing with whiny nobles bitching at him for not being able to save their worlds fast enough to prevent damage while he could be out doing useful things - or sleeping and recovering his energy and from the injuries he’d sustained in the weeks of non-stop fighting did not appeal to Hagiel in the slightest. Normally when a request like this came to Hagiel and his squad, they would draw lots to see which two of them would have to suffer through that sort of nonsense…

But none of his brothers had survived the battles. They were all in the radiant light of the emperor, serving alongside Lord Sanguinius. His hearts clenched painfully as he said “I will be there if I can make it, when does the dinner start? I am in the middle of helping put this hospital back together.” He pointed out, as the other working baselines kept attaching the huge pipe he was holding to the wall. They were roughly three quarters done with the task. He’d hoped to help them finish getting the central sewer pipes to and from this hospital in proper working order before going to sleep tonight, but alas, that was no longer in the cards.

“You have an hour and a half to prepare for the dinner. The Lord Governor is extending the use of his home to you to use, in order to clean up, as he’s aware of the relentless battles and clean-up that you’ve nobly thrown yourself into since they called out for Astartes assistance. The dress code is black-tie and he strongly suggests that you allow your power armor to recharge while attending the dinner, if at all possible. Again, the Lord Governor’s mansion is completely functional and able to recharge several Astartes’ power armor, and their retinue of servants are willing and able to clean and service your armor - and weapons while you are out of it, my lord.” Flint explains, giving him a sharp smile as they spoke.

HIs armor was in need of cleaning and repair - he’d done what he could between retrieving his brother’s corpses and salvaging what he could of their gear and weapons, placing them on The Resolve… And his weapons weren’t in much better state. He’d done what he could to tend to them, but he was no Tech Marine. While he did not want to be out of armor just yet… He could not refuse the Governor’s generous offers without insulting them and he could not afford to alienate such a powerful political figure in the local star system. “Very well. I think I shall take up the Governor’s generous offer… Although I don’t have much in the way of black-tie clothing, other than my dress uniform, which is on The Resolve.”

“The Governor does have a small selection of Black Tie worthy clothes that are sized to fit most astartes to choose from. However if you’d rather be in your dress uniform, I can have a couple of serfs sent over to the Resolve to fetch if for you, if you wish.” The baseline human offered.

Hagiel had no idea what sort of clothes would be available for him to wear… And given that this system was technically on the far eastern edge of Ultramar, they likely had formal wear for Ultramarines. Which was… Fine… He guessed. He really didn’t want any of these strange baselines on The Resolve without him there to monitor what the fuck they were doing. “I would be grateful for whatever appropriate clothes the Governor feels fit to allow me to borrow for this event. The Resolve is on the far side of the city from his manor, after all, and the city’s roads and infrastructure are in ruins and it might take them quite a bit of time to get to The Resolve.”

“As you wish, Lord Angel.” Flint responds with a small nod “If you would follow me? I will guide you to their mansion.”

“We are finished bolting the sewer pipe in place, lord angel.” One of the baselines on the hospital’s repair crew speak up, dark eyes wide and full of awe, despite the fact that Hagiel has been working with them for several hours. At least the transhuman dread has worn off.

Hagiel nods and says “As you say.” He responds, letting go of the sewer pipe and following the sharply dressed baseline out of the damaged hospital.

#cw canon typical violence #warhammer 40k #lamenter #lamenter ocs #warhammer nobles #warhammer noble ocs #warhammer inquisitor #guess which of them is the inquisitor! If ur right I'll tell u #oc: Hagiel #my writing

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owlespresso · 26 days

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scarlet venom to keep in jam jars sometimes you feel like an ant beneath his gaze.

Vil makes a face at the red stains on your hands and upper arms. You laugh at the way his nose wrinkles. The tart scent of fresh cherry fills the humble Ramshackle kitchen, the oven thrummed to life behind you.

“You don’t pit a whole batch of cherries without making a little bit of a mess,” you tell him with a crooked smile. You don’t have a pitter, so you’ve opted to do it with your bare (and meticulously cleaned) hands. You gently hold each morsel by the stem to squeeze each pit out. A growing pile of them sits atop several layers of paper towel to the side of your cutting board. You’re almost done with this batch. Only two more to go. “What’re you making that face for? It’ll wash right off.”

“You could have put on some gloves,” he retorts. Reaching over, he pinches the space below your thumb between forefinger and thumb, one of the only unblemished parts of your hand. He lifts your hand to inspect it with a pitched brow, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “This will take days to wash out, and all to make something you could have bought from the school store.” He relinquishes you, still wearing a dour pout.

“It’s fresher when you make it yourself,” you tut. “And more satisfying.”

“That may be true, but I need you pristine for tomorrow’s luncheon. You agreed to attend as my plus one, remember?” Vil gives you a pointed look.

Ah, right. Something about a fancy meal with his castmates on this upcoming project. You weren’t sure if it was actually a movie. In your defense, Vil always seems to have a dozen or more projects on his plate at any given time, and you tend to promise him whatever he wants as soon as he asks for it. How could you say “no” to that prying glare and air of innate superiority?

“Y-Yeah, of course! Don’t worry. These hands’ll be clean as a whistle in time for tomorrow!” you assure him, hoping he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your chipper chirp. He definitely does not believe you, and he doesn’t do you the service of pretending to. Not even for a second.

“Hm. I should hope so,” he says, looking down his nose at you, lips set in a stern expression that says “you had better”.

You figured he would leave, but he lingers in your kitchen, looking completely and utterly out of place. A peacock among a group of hens. A marble statue in the middle of a garbage dump. A somewhat peaceable silence lingers as you finish pitting the cherries, dropping each one into a pot above the stove. The recipe is simple. All it calls for is cherries, lemon juice and water over a burner. It’s a wonder, you think, how a simple three ingredients can make something so delicious.

Well, your kitchen isn’t a dump. You had worked hard to forge it into what it is now. You tore out those floorboards with your own hands, gutted the cabinets and sinks and slotted new ones in with trembling hands and assistance from a select few friends. Jack and Deuce, in particular, had been indispensable during the project. Your kitchen, you realize as you stir the pot, is a mark of pride and hard work.

Hard work that will be rendered meaningless once you find a way home. What will become of Ramshackle once you are gone? Will they once again shutter the windows and let nature reclaim its aged wood and stone?

Vil says your name, then, hardly an inch from your ear. You jolt, spatula clattering against the edge of the pot. He’s leaned up against the counter, closer than he’d been before.

“W-What is it?” you stammer. Your palm presses flat to your chest in an attempt to soothe the erratic thrumming of your heart, jumpstarted by the brief jolt of adrenaline.

“I’ve been calling you for the past minute, dear,” Vil murmurs quietly. The dulcet tone of his voice soothes your animal panic. There is no threat here, the thalamus concludes, whispering the amygdala back to sweet sleep.

“Sorry, I just…” What do you tell him? That you’re plagued by the knowledge that all you build will one day be rendered to ash? That the steady march of time has already always worried you, but your limited time here only makes the dread worse?

“I wonder where you go, sometimes,” Vil murmurs quietly. He grasps your chin delicately, cups it between forefinger and thumb–and the thoughts stop. “You get the most far away look in your eyes, and no matter how much I call out to you, you don’t seem to hear until I’m right in front of you.”

“I just get lost in thought,” you mumble, for lack of anything better to say. Your brain stalls out, thoughts jumbled as you desperately reach for a more eloquent reply. You find none, of course, made entirely stupid by the mere touch of his hand. The silken skin of his hand so perilously close to your throat. He could feel the rabbit wild thrum of your pulse if they slid barely a few inches lower. You swallow, and his eyes dart down to track the motion. Pinpoint reaction like a predator prepared to pounce.

“And you also get lost in crowds,” Vil replies wryly, breaking the tension.

That was one time, you want to argue, even if that one time resulted in him fervently trying to locate you amongst a throng of festival goers for the better part of an hour. Afterwards, he mandated a strict hand-holding policy that remains in effect to this day. You worry for his career. What’ll happen if he’s seen so close to you? Surely, he has legions of adoring fans who thrive off of imagining themselves on his arm. Will it hurt his image? Or his standing in the industry?

He doesn’t seem to be much bothered.

He delicately taps you on the nose, and you’re snapped from your winding train of thought. Probably for the better.

“Your spacing out has its charms, but not when you’re watching over a boiling pot,” he says crisply, and your eyes go wide, snapping back to the pot. Thankfully, it has not exploded or boiled over or congealed into one, solid mass in your absence. You doubt such a thing is possible–but if there’s one thing you know, it’s to never look away from your cooking.

“You’re the one distracting me,” you grouse. There is no bite behind it. Hardly even a bark.

You give the brewing jam another stir, finding the consistency a little too watery. You stare into the crimson mixture with a hawkish, searching gaze.

#vil schoenheit #tilted for twst

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kyogre-blue · 7 days

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More details I want to note down for RDCH.

1. We still haven't seen Kali/Kalli/Carly in the story, but we get a few panels showing her. She has a surprisingly cutesy face. (Does this mean that if Lee Geon got genderswapped for some reason, he'd be a surprisingly petite and cute woman?) One of those flashes is from Yooha pov in DC. The way the translation renders her thought bubbles before and after makes no reference to "Kalli" at all, but it might be the case that there was some confusion about pronoun genders in there. Anyway, curious what was going on there.

2. The timeline after Blood Fog was that Hugo had time to investigate and find Libra's involvement, stormed in to confront her, and then she went to the hospital to screw with Yooha. That makes it seem like at least some time passed after the whole incident, but the kids were still sleeping over at the hospital. Was it that they refused to leave their mom, or was Hugo hoping that Scorpio's protections on the hospital would be safer for them?

3. Speaking of that flashback, Giselle has a couple panels where she imagines Hugo as her follower, complete with a fancy military uniform, which... looks good, sure, but it is so different from anything Hugo ever chooses to wear. The most he manages is an extremely basic suit for public appearances, and the rest of the time he either dresses in very plain combat clothing or in super casual jeans and t-shirts. In fact, if you imagine that Lee Geon never bothered buying himself new clothes, then he's just been wearing stuff Hugo gave him. The only thing to suggest they're not sharing clothes is that Lee Geon wears shorts a couple times and Hugo never does. (I still remember them sharing that teddy bear apron lol)

4. Giselle suggests that Hugo refusing to join her comes down to him still holding a torch for Lee Geon, which seems to be the general impression everyone has. It's.... not necessarily wrong, but it feels a bit of a weird assumption. Yeah, when Lee Geon is around, Hugo basically follows his orders, but he's not his subordinate in any official capacity, and when Lee Geon isn't around, Hugo makes his own choices in a completely normal way. Like, I would assume he just has very understandable ideological objections to the other Saints, or even just assume pride. So did Hugo do something that made everyone think of him as Lee Geon's slave loyal subordinate, or are they all just terminally Geon-brained and projecting?

5. Giselle wants Hugo. Steven wants Hugo. I don't recall now whether Kevin tried to recruit Hugo, but at minimum he is very tsuntsun toward him but then coordinates with him very smoothly. And in the novel, Sophie is apparently quite taken with him. So at this point I feel like the Saints can be split into two categories: the ones that want to fuck Lee Geon and the ones that want to steal his man. And Aries, I guess. Some want both. (You might say "what about Ivan" but let me tell you, he is suspiciously fixated on Hugo, who even get a special pet name. Villain wishing for a hatefuck behavior.)

6. Aside from making a spear for Yooha and screwing up Hugo's bow, Lee Geon also says he's planning to make something for Sungjae and Jiwoo. Very curious.

7. Steven had to keep suppressing the evil god in Yooha's arms, so he's been her guardian for ten years. It's also mentioned with no details that Oliver killed the previous cadre captain, whom Yooha calls "teacher." We don't get a clear shot of him tho. Listen, Steven is a funny side character, I appreciate that he has a fair share of reactions to things, and even gets moments like tackling Yooha out of the way or stepping in to take a blow for her, since he's raised her for so long.

8. I am curious how to interpret some of the divine gods siding with Lee Geon. Steven says that Leo is "sleeping" with no explanation, but Virgo is shown as actively endorsing all this. Scorpio is initially said to be backing Libra but then Hayley switches it to Lee Geon, so it's like... there might not even be a god? There's also other spoiler(tm) questions that I am very curious about.

9. The manhwa repeats the "30 years since invasion" number, putting the current year as 2030 or 2031, which is different from the novel's 25 years. I guess this is probably to avoid having the story be set in almost modern day? They might have wanted to maintain the "near future" date, but I'm not really sure why. The divergence point is way in the past anyway.

10. Yooha is "vice celestial lord" but also only S rank, compared to Oliver being SS and divine cadre captain. From what I recall, you can have more than one cadre captain. We see a couple in Gemini, though it might be because they are in charge of different geographic areas?

11. Let me just say, "Baron Helmet" is a stupid name. He's probably not very strong, and the actual issue is that he has some power given to him by their "lord." Previously, when everyone got dragged into a sealed dimension by Libra flunkies, the Saints couldn't connect to their gods, but Lee Geon could still use his powers fine. This time, super regeneration doesn't work in order to up the stakes, but the reason should be that his power was being drained out by contact with the monarch's power. He directly compares it to the cursed dagger he got stabbed with at the Demon Tower.

12. Speaking of which, the Demon Tower is apparently quite strategically important, as the unknown civilization wants to rebuild it.

13. Chapter 92 ends on a cliffhanger about the penalty time for Lee Geon being resurrected after the Tower ending. The initial time given was 1032 hours, which is 43 days. So it's been 43 days since he returned. (The novel says that was in August, so it is now October.) Additionally, the chapter 74 cliffhanger before the hiatus said there was 65 hours until the invasion, so there was less than three days Yooha declared she'd be leaving Leo and Lee Geon sent Taekwoo's head to Libra. There was probably a few days between that and Lee Geon's big declaration against Libra.

And I guess that's it for now.

#reading disaster class hero

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lostloves · 2 years

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*pops out of nowhere* so... hi? it's kayle. i'm not sure if anyone here remembers me. i mean, it's been what? two years? that doesn't seem like much, but a lot's changed since then. two years ago, i was planning to study art and design, but like everyone else, i got stuck in a proverbial limbo of waiting. the pandemic essentially rendered everything on hold — my graduation, my post-grad trip with friends, and eventually my long-awaited plans to move to another country for uni. that period of waiting, i spent here in the company of lovely internet friends who were so kind to me. they made my day every time i logged in (hi ami @aimlocked, lett @sunmayshine [what a cute user btw], a bunch of other people who i can't seem to find the usernames of). i also had so much fun editing gifs and graphics, even doing a little bit of theme coding every now and then (do people still do that here? is that still a thing?)

anyway, when it was clear to me that i was waiting for nothing and that none of what i had planned for so long was going to work out the way i hoped they would, i just felt so defeated that i shut down. what i thought was a two week break from social media ended up being two years. i wasn't active in anything. a few months back, i revived my goodreads to track the books i'm reading but that's about it. i just wasn't in the best headspace. eventually, going online slipped my mind. i even forgot the password at some point.

so yeah, that was two years ago. now, i'm currently in my old uni studying language, almost always buried deep in paperwork. i never would've imagined this is where i'd be, but like i said, a lot's changed. and it looks like a lot's changed with tumblr too because wow i barely recognize all these new fancy features.

i don't know if i'll post here on a regular basis. i don't edit stuff anymore. although i can try? i kinda miss editing stuff for fandoms instead of research presentations 💀 though i'm not sure if i have the time to do graphics or gifs like i used to. if i'm not reading journal articles, i'm usually writing papers about them. finals is just two weeks away too, and i'm pretty sure that's going to take up my already close-to-nonexistent vacant time. but who knows? now that i finally figured out the password, i might as well just lurk here again hahaha.

this ended up being longer (and so much more sentimental?) than i thought it would lol sorry for that. it was supposed to be just a "hi hello i'm back! if you remember me, here's what i've been up to. and if you don't, pls keep scrolling and save me from embarrassment!" post. but if you've read this far, thanks for being a cool and lovely human on the internet.

#also this new post editor is wild #and it seems i forgot the tags i use too #i feel like a boomer discovering the internet for the first time #on that note #i might go and play around with this new tumblr #and edit my theme while we're at it #i love those pastel colors but wow #my eyes can't take that level of pale anymore #that's all #thanks for coming to my ted talk #kayle.txt

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watching-pictures-move · 2 years

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Put On Your Raincoats | Friday the 13th: A Nude Beginning (Lincoln, 1987)

You guys all love the part in a Friday the 13th movie where Jason puts on a hockey mask and kills people? What about the part in a Friday the 13th movie where Jason puts on a hockey mask and...sits around cutting up pictures from a magazine? I guess that’s implied violence? You know, giving us some insight into his psychology? Now what about the part where he takes off the mask, and it turns out he’s a demon in hell played by Paul Thomas, and he bickers with Justine, another demon played by Amber Lynn, about who’s better at corrupting mankind? And the part where Jason and Justine go to earth and proceed to orchestrate a series of sex scenes involving a bunch of completely unrelated characters in an effort to prove who’s the most devious of them all? Yeah, that’s usually a fun part of any Friday the 13th movie, right?

Well, that’s what happens in Friday the 13th: A Nude Beginning, a porn “parody” directed by Fred J. Lincoln, who most people know as one of the villains in Last House on the Left, which was a Sean S. Cunningham production, like the original Friday the 13th, which starred Kevin Bacon, and that’s within six degrees. Really, aside from the fact that one of the characters is named Jason and briefly wears a hockey mask, there is no attempt to evoke the series. Like, there are no scenes where Jason runs around and, instead of sticking machetes into people, he inserts marital aids. Which is something you’d hope would happen in a porn parody of a slasher, but the movie disappoints on that level. The only attempt at any horror aesthetics is the discount hell that the introductory scene and interludes take place in, a mix of lo fi set design, and overactive fog machine, and lots of red, that captured on video take on an endearing quality not unlike heavy metal music videos of the era. Otherwise, this is aesthetically in line with the average SOV production of the era, where the camera doesn’t do anything too fancy and usually points at the places you’d want it to point in a porno.

It probably sounds like I’m being dismissive here, but I actually had a really good time with this. I knew going in this wasn’t going to be a very good parody of the series, but I wasn’t expecting a script with this much great dialogue, which I will naturally provide samplings of. If there is a satirical target here, it’s at the usual establishment figures of the ‘80s: the US government, televangelists, and an anti-porn feminist activist modeled after Andrea Dworkin. There’s also a scene where Thomas persuades a character to violate the sanctity of marriage by making up an old tradition that “dates back to the Celtics, or is it the Lakers?” I’m not sure how exactly this is satirical, but when she says what they’re doing is “evil”, I’m not sure I buy it. I mean, it’s not good for her relationship, but evil seems like a strong word here.

There’s a scene between the President and a Colombian guerilla, where the latter pleads for military aid to overthrow her country’s government. Now, my guess is that she would be from FARC, who I understand are Marxist-Leninist, so I’m not sure how likely they would be in real life to ask for help for the Reagan administration. I did like this exchange, where the President speaks of the importance of coffee to Colombia’s economy.

"It's the drink of the fascist oppressors."

"I like mine without cream."

Of course, this scene proceeds as one would expect, arguably rendering the figurative fucking over of Latin America by the US in more literal terms. In that sense, it’s about as astute a satire as Alex Cox’s Walker, replacing the explosions of blood and gunpowder with explosions of...something else. Now, Lynn takes credit for orchestrating this scene, but aside from briefly appearing at the beginning and leaving the room, it’s not clear what her contribution is. And as Thomas points out, "You picked a politician. He didn't have a soul to begin with."

The scenes with the televangelist are more broader but funnier. First Lynn appears as a nun, surprising the televangelist played by Joey Silvera, who is very shouty and very animated. ("Today's the 12th, sister, and Mother Teresa wasn't supposed to come until the 13th. You're supposed to be a Japanese schoolgirl.") Naturally they get it on, but then there’s a second scene where he ends up having a threesome on live TV. Lynn’s role again isn’t apparent at first glance, but when Thomas knocks her efforts, she takes umbrage.

"Are you kidding? I had to work my ass off on that one! I had to bring in a blind girl from Russia! I had to go out and find a black lesbian nymphomaniac! I had to break some homosexual makeup artist's legs! And have you any idea how hard it is to grow a one-legged man's leg back?"

As they say, great art can often seem effortless.

The final stretch of the movie has the Dworkin stand-in, played by Nina Hartley, being seduced by Thomas and giving up her militant ways. And then out of concern for his fate, Lynn intervenes to seduce her as well, only to hand her off to a pimp played by Billy Dee (who unlike the King of the Pimps played by Jack Baker in Let Me Tell Ya ‘Bout White Chicks, does some actual pimping at the end). If there’s an issue with this section, it’s the suggestion that dolled up hairspray Hartley is somehow more attractive than glasses Hartley, but the scene between Lynn and Hartley is a clash of the titans, like between King Kong and Godzilla, but the new one where they’re actually friends. Whether or not the results are sexier will depend on the viewer, but I can report most of the performers here are in fine form, if you’re watching it for those reasons.

So there’s plenty of great dialogue, and some very funny supporting performances by Silvera and Hartley, but as you can guess from the poster, what really makes the movie work is Amber Lynn herself. She’s great. Aside from a few minor roles (scenes in 52 Pick-Up and The Devil in Miss Jones 3: A New Beginning) I’d previously seen her in Things, where she managed to project some degree of glamour despite the fact that she was reading off the cue cards and was in fucking Things. And here, you get some of that same quality. As her character says, she does things with “style” and “pizazz”, and the results are evident onscreen, as she struts around hell, radiating star power. (I should note that while she carries a trident on the cover, she never actually pokes anyone with it, which is one disappointing thing about the movie.) She and Thomas have lots of great banter and both hold their own pretty ably. I’ll be honest, I hadn’t really considered diving further into her filmography, as I got the sense there wasn’t much artistry in there, but now I think I’ll have to do some further investigation.

Anyway, a few more good lines, because why not:

"One must always jack off with their preferred hand."

“Have you spoken to the Lord today?"

"I can't say I did. His line was busy."

"I'll show you corruption with a capital K!"

"A blind communist with cancer? You're on in two minutes."

"God bless you."

"Fat chance."

"I will not let your puns get to me."

"Are you on glue?"

Not the Friday the 13th parody we wanted, but the one we needed.

#film #put on your raincoats #movie review #friday the 13th: a nude beginning #fred j. lincoln

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vinxwatches · 11 months

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(re)watching Transformers: Prime season 1

this was a series that was on during a time, but i don't think i ever saw the end or even a lot of it, though i do remember the motorcycle robot well and thought she was really cool (may have been lesbianism or gender envy), and Red from OSP mentioned is with some regularity which has kept it in my mind. also it was what i was watching when i got picked up to see my sibling for the first time after they were born and i remember being quite annoyed i had to stop watching the show, which clearly has stuck with me for way too long.

ep1 darkness rising, p1

well, it almost looks good. almost, but the lighting engine is just too weak to pull most things off. the graphic quality just doesn't seem to be able to pull of what they want it to. the terrain is extremely low in quality. i expect that to get a lot better, not just with seasons but even though the first season as they build up more assets.

damn that wasn't long for the first death. might also explain why he didn't look great. how much time do you put into a character that exists for 5 minutes?

it's interesting to see an enemy with a plan we know at least in part will fail as they don't truly have the element of surprise. for protagonists it's common, classic tragedy stuff. but never for antagonists.

wow, real subtle guys. two dark purple spiky cars driving like assholes. no one will ever notice anything up. also pausing really reveals how bad things blend. the entire scene has motion blur Except the characters. even still the action is surprisingly good. i just hope the human cast won't be unbearable.

small dextrous fighter dodging around strikes for larger opponents that she can take down? well if that isn't my favourite. no seriously that's always what i try to play in games. i'm no good at hit but it's my fucking jam.

oh she has way too much detail to be a background character. i don't remember this goth girl at all for some reason though. she does have the best personality so far though (yes i like enthusiastic characters)

good way to make him intimidating: give his every footstep a screen shake.

i thought they were going to go somewhat light on combat. NOPE. the bad guys will cut people in half. the good guys will do a fancy kick move of someone's neck and take their head off.

and sometimes it's Very ps2.

damn, it didn't take long at all for the villain to make a turn for the monstrous. i thought that would be season finally or at least mid finally shit. oh shit i think i remember that tiny robot very well, may well have inspired a lot of things i've come up with over the years.

man they really use a lot of plotpoints in the opening multi parter. my fear is that that'll result in a very status quo no progress middle of the season.

i'm getting the feeling that they either don't have the ability or time to fully render some scenes which is why some turn out way worse then others.

and of course the military can't be shown as truly bad.

seriously that the undead army is already a thing is worrying to me. where do you get to go beyond that? "if your opponents are already dead how can we defeat them?" you stop them from being able to move.

ah, they are trying to give the humans a purpose... good luck.

blades extended straight out of the forearm. seems rather impractical. severely limits the amount of cuts you can make as you can't edge align, and these blades seem really short.

the boy walks away... i'm sure i'm supposed to be sad about it, but i'm really not. he added nothing other then being whiny. he'd obvious return. got to have a "default" guy, lets hope he find a bloody use. because responsible isn't interesting.

ok, pretty good threat for what to avoid in the future.

i repeat again: a LOT of big plot point early. i'm afraid for the rest of the series.

transformers is pretty big on defending the home you didn't choose. there's a really harmful message in that. patriotism is incredibly dangerous, which is part of why america is so dangerous, to others and too itself. it's also big on them choosing to defending the home they didn't choose. there's a much less harmful message in that.

Masters and Students

oh, Starscream has a goa to work towards. will it be one episode or a seasonal thing?

"you are a motorcycle, shouldn't you know how to put one together?" "you are a human, can you build me a small intestine". there are some significant differences (motorcycles are designed and lack most useless parts while humans are not and our internals are a bloody mess design wise). but also fair point and fucking funny.

also neat choice to make soundwave, who acts the most like a robot, a drone in plane form.

oh i think i remember this episode. at least the science project subplot i hated.

Con Job

oh yea, he has the high villain shoulders.

Convoy

i was going to say that there were less and less ps2 moments. then they introduced a new setting and yea it's not looking great.

pretty good ending speech and pretty interesting concept for future plots.

Speed Metal

fucking hell don't say "that's my girl" it's fucking weird and gross.

at least they aren't (currently) pairing up the main human male and female character because i don't trust this show to do that well.

Predatory

oh shit we're diving into some heavy shit here. i'm afraid spider lady will be an obvious bad guy.

damn there's serious PTSD going on here. and how RC seems perfectly equipped to fight her could be extremely deep story telling if you read it that the made herself perfect to fight exactly her again.

Sick Mind

ok, they found the hidden enemy ship. so things are maybe moving forward. also really telling that they'll try a rescue of someone they don't know over hitting the enemy they know they have.

a plague ship. such a cool idea. so sad that it's currently probably a bit bad taste to use for things like ttrpgs. though if it's like a necrotic disease. zombies that turn you into zombies by biting you it's probably fine to use.

oh, inside someone's brain episode? really liked those in the owl house, lets see how they visualize it and what they do with it.

"i have thoroughly researched the theoretical literature" and today in least confidence boosting sentences.

interesting it's bumblebee and nor rc. i wonder why.

damn, smart play by bumbles, smart counterplay by megatron. not smart enough. really cool.

not to inventive with the visuals, but probably the coolest episode so far, maybe with predatory. and damn that cliffhanger.

Out of His Head

powerplays between the two people conspiring together. very interesting dynamic.

ok, megatron is back, things do move... and no one seems to be too bothered about it atm. i'm guessing that's what the next episode starts with.

Shadowzone

oh damn, starstream going to use the dark energon in desperation to be level the playingfield.

oh hey, people being out of phase, i recently saw this startreck episode. damn, and they left most of a zombie in the other phase. that'll be interesting for the future.

Operation: Breakdown

damn, how much transformer gore will we see in this one? just one lose eye and where it was supposed to go, kind of a letdown

Crisscross

fucking hell this episode is going brutal. more brutal then the breakdown episode.

Metal Attraction

damn, first instance of damage being permanent.

so they try to make the mom look bad by being over protective. but we don't get any sense that most recon missions go perfectly smoothly and safely. now i'm sure that's like characters in stories going to the toilet, but it does make it feel like they are very often dangerous making the mom seem more then reasonable. they also try to make RC seem over protective even though she takes them on missions she believes are safe and sends them back when dangers shows. i don't think they'll make the conclusion stick well.

i wonder how permanent they'll make those very neat retributive cuts. she seems like the type who'd keep them until she killed the one that gave them.

oh, his dad left... i though he might have died... that's either a much stronger stance, or his father will be revealed later making it much less interesting because we've seen that dozens of times. and they didn't make them worrying the bad thing they did, but instead not accepting change. surprisingly well handled.

Rock Bottom

not like this (be burried under a metric fuckton of rock and then drilled to death)... why not? a swift, easy end to one of the biggest threats. boring for the series? sure. but they could have made it saving before attacking and it would have made total sense.

Partners

i just realized the autobots make for a pretty standard 5 man band... sort of. some are easy. like bulkhead is the obvious big buy, ratchet is the obvious smart guy. now arcee and optimus are obvious leader and lancer. but you could question who's who. for the leader optimus is rather rarely the focus... but yea no he's the leader. and arcee is a neat lancer being the smallest compared to the largest, nimble and dodging instead of standing his grown and tanking. which would make bumblebee the heart which makes total sense.

if anyone would turn coat starscream would make some sense... but also not as he'd want to tripplecross. however he thinks he'll get more.

T.M.I.

damn this episode felt like one of the writers was struggling trough a family member suffering dementia.

Stronger, Faster

i think i remember this episode. unless the energy problem keeps coming up.

i mean... is what he's saying not true though? he's saying it like an asshole, sure, but what did he say that was wrong?

are you really giving the decepticons two corrupted forms of energon? seems redundant.

One Shall Rise, Part 1.

the only vagally reasonable natural threat to europe is something weird that kills power. sorry, it's just bizarre how safe Europe is compared to the rest of the world. this is not a flex, Europe is life on easy mod.

on the one side that's some cool lore. on the other i'd love it if for once something was called "the blood of X" and it's just myth, nothing more. not the plot twist of "the blood of X was Actually the blood of X and not just a fancy name".

One Shall Rise, Part 3.

damn, that's one hell of a cliffhanger for season 2. sure, the threat is defeated, but now the decepticons have optimus.

#Transformers: Prime season 1 #Transformers: Prime

0 notes

silver-ink-iron-words · 2 years

Note

Could you do another part of Dinner Guest? I love it so much!

Thanks for reading my work. I hope you like this one too :)

-------------

Part 1

Part 2

Dinner Guest, Part 3

“These are going to scar, if you’re not careful,” LaChasse said, tracing their fingers along the cuts circling Julian’s arm.

Julian ducked away, glaring.

He’d gained more burns in the last few weeks, as well as bruises and slashes and scrapes. He was starting to build quite the little collection.

On some days, it felt as though LaChasse was finally wearing him down. But on others, his resolve actually strengthened. He had learned new strategies to cope with pain, and he was dogged by the knowledge that giving up would render all his suffering meaningless.

Plus, with his friends gone, with his home stolen away, he really had nothing left but this one last mission seeped into his bones – resist.

“How many are there?” LaChasse asked, sounding bored.

“You could have any one of your underlings do this,” Julian said, eyes roving over the details of the holding cell. “Or do you just not have anything better to do with your time?”

LaChasse snapped their fingers at a henchman, who walked over and backhanded Julian across the face.

“Going low-tech today,” Julian observed, rubbing at his jaw. “What’s the matter? Break your fancy little gadgets?”

LaChasse sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn’t have left you behind in that restaurant.”

“Feel free to take me back there anytime you’d like. I’ll buy you dumplings as a parting gift.”

LaChasse signalled, and the henchman raised his fist.

Julian flinched.

“That’s what I thought,” LaChasse said. “Now, second chance. How many are there, who are they, and what are their powers?”

Julian glanced over to the prisoners. There were more than usual today – at least fifty. A total of seven were powered. He spotted some familiar faces in the crowd, but most of them were new. A hundred eyes with a hundred different emotions stared back at him. Fear, anger, sympathy, guilt.

“I’m not saying.”

The henchman hit him again.

His face throbbed, and he tasted blood.

He shook his head. And was hit.

He looked over to the henchman. “Please tell me this is hurting your hand at least a little bit.”

The henchman raised his arm, and Julian braced himself. But then, LaChasse held up their hand as a signal to stop.

“You think you’re cute, don’t you?” they said.

“Maybe on a good day.”

“If I didn’t know better, I would have said that you’ve forgotten that I won. Forgotten that you’re mine.”

“I told you on day one, pal,” Julian replied. “I'm not surrendering.”

LaChasse’s eyes were unreadable.

They pulled their gun, and leveled it at Julian’s head.

Julian paused for a moment, and then forced out a laugh. “Ha, nice try, Collector. But I know you don’t trash your own prized possessions.”

He said that, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the gun’s hollow dark barrel.

LaChasse studied him for a moment, their gaze piercing. Then, something on their face darkened. Julian’s pulse quickened.

“Rick, grab a prisoner and bring them here.”

A second henchman peeled off the far wall and headed towards the cell.

Julian froze. “What are you doing?”

He took a step forward, but a large hand gripped his shoulder. It was the henchman that had been hitting him just moments ago.

Rick came forward, dragging a pretty young woman with dark curls. He threw her at LaChasse’s feet.

“What’s your name dear?” they said, crouching down to her level.

“Angie.” Her voice was a strangled whisper.

“Charmed to make your acquaintance, Angie.” They pulled a pristine embroidered cloth from their pocket, and used it as a gag. “Now, shake or nod your head, please. Are you powered?”

She rapidly shook her head “no.”

LaChasse turned their attention to Julian. “Well, my little detector, is she lying?”

Julian swallowed, his eyes racing between the two of them. “You got your answer. She’s unpowered.”

LaChasse rose up, and pointed their gun at her forehead. “Well then, it seems I have no need for you.”

Angie thrashed, but Rick held firm. Julian tried to lurch forward.

“What the fuck?!” he shouted, struggling against the henchman’s grip. “LaChasse, stop!”

“Is she powered, Julian?”

“You always let the unpowered ones go!”

“Are you going to give me what I want, or are you going to let an innocent woman die?”

They clicked off the safety, and aimed.

“She can fly!” Julian yelled. Then, he went limp. “Please. Don’t shoot. She can fly.”

Angie’s eyes flew to him. Were they full of terror, or betrayal? He wasn’t sure.

“There, now was that so hard?” LaChasse beamed over at him.

Julian tore his gaze from Angie’s, and took in a shuddering breath.

“Not only can she fly,” he said. “She’s supersonic. Fast enough that if she hits Rick’s trick knee and grabs the prisoner in the orange hoodie, she can – ”

LaChasse’s eyes burst wide in realization. “Shut him up!”

The henchman tried to grab at his face, but he dodged.

“He’s got heat vision!” Julian called to Angie. “Carry him up to the ceiling and – mmph.”

The henchman finally got a big meaty hand over Julian’s mouth. But it was too late.

Angie really could move fast, and within seconds she had gotten free and was fighting her way back into the cell. LaChasse shouted orders, and the henchmen swarmed, but they couldn’t get there before she blasted upwards with orange-hoodie-guy in tow.

Bright red lasers shot from hoodie-guy’s eyes, cracking the ceiling tiles, sending a cascade of white dust and rubble over the people below. But, more importantly, he destroyed the wires running just above.

The electromagnetic field that had been suppressing all powers inside the holding cell switched off.

And that’s when all hell really broke loose.

LaChasse’s henchmen tried to fight back, but they were outnumbered. The little old lady with super strength ripped through the cell bars. The businessman transformed into a swarm of bees and launched at a henchman that had been shooting fire balls everywhere. The teenager with acid spit unleashed their ability with a zealous glee.

LaChasse lifted their gun, but someone chucked a remnant of cell bar at their face, sending them to the floor.

The henchman holding Julian pulled him backwards. Julian writhed, but he only had half the henchman’s strength.

Then, something collided with the both of them. Julian hit the ground hard.

Before he knew what was happening, Angie was there, holding out her hand. “Come with us.”

“I – ”

“Men!” LaChasse shouted. They heaved up, bleeding from their head. “Forget the other prisoners! Don’t let the detector escape!”

A fireball flew right past Julian’s face, and hit Angie square in the stomach. Her head slammed against the concrete when she fell.

Julian cried out, patting out the flames.

Then, a prisoner shoved him away and scooped Angie in their arms. Julian snapped his gaze up in confusion.

“I’m sorry man,” the prisoner said. And they really did look sorry. “But it’s too dangerous to be around you.”

With that, they sprinted towards the hole that the old lady had punched in the wall.

Julian started to scramble after them, but a weight landed on his back. Arms wrapped around his chest. Tugged him backwards into some strange facsimile of a hug.

He felt a cold whisper inside his ear.

“Where do you think you’re flying off to, little bird?”

Soon, the henchmen had surrounded him. But before they fully closed in, Julian was able to glimpse the last of the prisoners escape.

“You are going to regret this,” LaChasse said, still holding him.

“Probably.”

Julian hoped that the crime lord interpreted his trembling as adrenaline from the fight, and not as a reaction to the fact that his heart rotted like a carcass inside his chest.

Because, he’d only noticed the potential escape strategy a handful of seconds after revealing Angie’s power.

For a few brief moments there, LaChasse had successfully broken him.

Part 4

#villain #hero #villains and heroes #heroes and villains #hero x villain #villain x hero #writing snippet #snippet #writeblr #writing #whump #whump writing #not a prompt

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mothandpidgeon · 3 years

Text

REPUTATION - Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Words: 3615

Rating: T

Warnings: slowest of burns, gender swapped characters, TOUCHING HANDS, no us of y/n

Summary: After scandal damages your reputation, you are finished with society. But a mysterious bachelor by the name of Mr. Djarin has a reputation of his own. And you are determined to keep yourself from getting mixed up with him.

A/N: So after THAT LOOK I know we are all working on our Darcy fics. I feel very intimidated to give it a go when so many talented writers are going to be doing it better but I really haven’t been able to think about anything else.

Also please forgive any historical inaccuracies. I hate those even when they’re on purpose so let’s just agree to ignore them.

And thanks @pascalslittlebrat for taking a look at this and listening to all of my feelings.

MASTERLIST

You used to enjoy going to balls. You used to feel excitement when you got dressed in a fine white gown, your hair set elegantly with little silk flowers. Your heart would race when you would arrive and see all of the gentlemen in their finery. And dancing. There was a time when you could stay on your feet all night, drinking in the attention of all the eligible bachelors.

Those days were long gone. Now you felt a rock in the pit of your stomach the entire time. You counted the moments until you could leave. You couldn’t even bother to put on a pleasant expression, spending entire evenings sullen and taciturn. But at least this was the last ball you had to drag yourself to this season.

You had been forced to spend yet another season in town. This time you had the company of your younger cousin Julia, though her older sister Emma was a difficult chaperone. And tonight you were being hosted by Captain Charles Dune and his wife Lady Georgiana Karga. They threw wonderful parties– at least you had enjoyed them when you enjoyed those things. It was a masquerade ball which meant Julia had picked out a dainty little mask for you to wear. You couldn’t be bothered to choose one yourself but Julia had an eye for this sort of thing. And you liked the creamy white bow that she tied into your hair.

Julia was looking forward to tonight. She was very popular despite being related to you, containing all of the traits a man would want in a wife– good looks, excellent conversational skills, and a talent at the piano forte. She had a number of young men constantly calling on her and her dance card was practically full before she had even gotten into the carriage.

“You look so pretty!” she insisted, though she was probably admiring the work she had done to make you presentable.

Emma was looking forward to being finished with you. She had been married for three years and fancied herself an authority on the subject. She spent much of her time lecturing you on the proper way to comport yourself. Tonight she was just trying to get you to quit sulking.

“Would you at least try to be sociable?” Emma requested with a frown.

“I don’t much see the point,” you huffed. “Do you really believe I’ll get a proposal at the last ball of the season?”

“Lady Georgiana has invited an old friend of the captain’s,” Emma encouraged. “Mr. Djarin. She says he’s quite admirable.”

You rolled your eyes. You both knew you were headed for spinsterhood. Emma had lost her mind if she thought that she was going to pawn you off on some aged, paunchy bachelor.

The ball went exactly as you had expected. You watched Julia dance and laugh. You stood by as Emma talked animatedly when she wasn’t giving you sharp looks. Though there were gentlemen without partners, no one asked you to dance aside from Captain Dune and a few of the unlucky young men he could press into service.

Even now at the end of the season, where so many engagements had been made, you could still feel the eyes on you, the whispers behind hands. It was as if they thought the masks covered their looks of derision. You knew what they were saying, why they snickered and turned away.

It was all because of your broken engagement to Mr. Vanth. There was no returning from a situation like that. You had been cast aside and all of the ton could enjoy surmising the reasons. Your reputation was in shambles.

But it wasn’t the fact that he had gone and married some heiress not two months after he’d given you up that made it all so painful. What had really destroyed you was the fact that you’d let yourself love him. He wasn’t the best choice though he was handsome and had enough income to keep you comfortable. But you had given your heart to him and he had crushed it. And you looked like an utter fool for it.

For some reason, tonight it all stung. You’d learned to drown out the comments and ignore the sideways glances. But here you were, closing yet another season, as single as the day you’d come out. You’d begged your poor mother to let you stay at home in the country so that you wouldn’t have to suffer these indignities. It was pathetic that you had even shown up in London. But she had insisted, had assured you that you were still desirable, still attractive and spirited.

You certainly didn’t feel that way now. You snatched up a glass of wine from a nearby valet and drank it down in nearly a single gulp. It did little to soothe your nerves.

You needed air. You took another glass and sped towards the garden. The noise and music floated out here but the fresh air was cool and the garden looked quite empty, the vacant pathways lit by torches.

You’d once been so much fun. You’d laughed and smiled. You’d had no worries about your future. Now, not only were you a laughing stock but you would be lucky if you could rely on your cousin’s generosity for the rest of your days lest you end up in the poor house.

Tears were welling up in your eyes. You tore the mask off of your face to wipe them away. With your vision clouded and in the dim of the garden, you didn’t see the man that was standing in the shadows until you’d run right into his back.

You’d hit him with enough force to knock you back a few paces but he hardly flinched. He was tall and broad shouldered and he turned to look at you with curiosity. He was alone, thank heavens. He wore a black tailcoat and under that a waist coat that looked like silver and shined like silk. You didn’t recognize him but, of course, he was wearing a mask like all of the other guests. His was rendered in the same silver fabric with a slim slit for his eyes. A scalloped piece of fabric fell from the bottom of the mask down to his chin so you couldn’t see anything of his face other than his dark eyes.

Once you’d regained your balance you began to stutter an apology.

“Forgive me, sir,” you stammered. “I must mind my step.”

The stranger didn’t say anything, he just continued to look you up and down, the torch light reflected in his eyes. His hair was a mess of dark curls. His stature was imposing and incredibly still. You were so shaken that you suddenly realized how you looked, your face stained with tears and eyes glassy. You felt your cheeks burn with even more embarrassment.

Just as you opened your mouth to give some explanation, a voice came from behind you.

“Djarin! There you are!” Captain Dune called out, as jovial as ever.

You did your best to wipe the tears from your cheeks while the masked man turned his attention away.

Captain Dune sauntered down the path with his wife on his elbow. He was a dark haired, stocky man who still looked quite dashing in his dress uniform. He had been a hero of the Nile and served with your father before his ship had been lost. His round face was adorned with a black mask.

“Ah! I see you’ve met the young lady I told you about,” Dune said.

Lady Georgiana’s bright eyes looked between the two of you from under her leather mask. She was a beautiful woman with dark skin and a wide smile. She had always been kind to you even after the disastrous affair with Mr. Vanth.

“My dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Djarin,” Lady Georgiana said. “He is a very good friend.”

Mr. Djarin gave a tight bow when she introduced you but barely murmured a, “How do you do?”

“What are you doing hiding out here, Djarin? The dancing is inside!” Dune teased.

Mr. Djarin gave a chuckle but he didn’t sound amused.

“Why don’t you ask this young lady for a dance? I’m sure she would lower herself to stand up with you,” the captain continued with a wink.

“I’d better not. Please, you’ll have to excuse me. I should retire,” Mr. Djarin said, his voice deep and raspy.

Your eyes fell to the ground and you swallowed hard. You hoped in the darkness of the garden, Lady Georgiana didn’t catch your upset. Clearly Captain Dune had told him everything about you. Why else would this man be so impolite?

“Oh come now. It’s early, yet,” the captain protested.

“Forgive me. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bowed and took his leave.

“My dear,” Lady Georgiana tried, “you’ll have to forgive Mr. Djarin. He has lived alone for so long that he sometimes forgets his manners.”

You gave her a smile, clenching your jaw so that you would not cry.

“I just had a splendid idea!” Lady Georgiana exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You should come stay with us at Nevarro Hall. We leave next week. It would be great fun. I do find that part of the country so diverting.”

“You are too kind but I couldn’t impose,” you said politely. You had a feeling this offer only came because Georgiana felt responsible for her friend’s slight.

“Nonsense! You’re quite right that is a grand idea!” the captain agreed.

It was agreed that Lady Georgiana would write to your mother to inform her of the invitation. You knew she wouldn’t disagree considering how kind the Dunes were and how generous an invitation it was. Once the matter was settled, Captain Dune insisted you return to the party and you reluctantly slunk back inside.

Julia was with a gaggle of some friends when you returned to the ballroom. There was some excitement going on between them.

“Did you see him, Lucy?” one of the girls asked.

“I was introduced,” Lucy squealed. “It is a shame he was not here earlier in the season.”

You realized they were talking about Mr. Djarin and you felt yourself frowning.

“You’re not happy with Mr. Calican?” Julia laughed. Lucy had accepted his proposal just yesterday.

“No, of course!” she scoffed.

“What was he like?” Julia asked.

“I’ve heard he has a fine estate,” Lucy said.

“Oh, he was terribly handsome,” the first girl craned her neck to try and spot Mr. Djarin.

You wanted to laugh. You had also been introduced to Mr. Djarin but there was no way of knowing how handsome he was beneath that mask. You might have even ventured to tell them that but Emma joined the group looking disgruntled.

“I have learned some most unsettling news about Mr. Djarin,” she said. “He is traveling with a child who is in his care.”

“What about that offends you so?” Julia rolled her eyes.

“That is just it, Julia. I am told that this young boy is not merely Mr. Djarin’s ward. He is, in fact, his natural child.” This last part she said in a scandalized whisper.

This raised quite a few eyebrows but you furrowed your own.

“You are told?” You responded. “By whom?”

You knew the rumors that had circulated about yourself and had grown to absolutely despise and distrust gossip.

“I have it on good authority,” Emma said, which meant that some busybody had told her.

You shook your head. You hated that you felt the need to defend Mr. Djarin after he’d been so rude to you. If he had a child out of wedlock, one that he paraded around shamelessly, then what right did he have to rebuff you? You reminded yourself that this was merely hearsay. And no one deserved to be slandered like that.

But when you saw the way the other girls eyed you, you remembered yourself. If you protested too much, it would only speak to your own reputation. So you let them prattle on and as soon as you could slip away, you did, and spent the rest of the evening counting the minutes until you could leave and fall into bed.

After such an excruciating time in town, you were happy to be going anywhere else and, selfishly, you were glad that you didn’t need to spend a long carriage ride hearing Julia go on and on about how much she would miss being in town.

Nevarro Hall was situated on a gorgeous estate in a quiet part of the countryside. Lady Georgiana had given you a well appointed room with a view of the grounds. There was a beautiful garden with a fountain in the middle and, beyond that, a manicured lawn. You could see down to the lake and, past that, the tall trees. You spent a week walking the grounds with Lady Georgiana.

You loved to draw and you could set yourself in some corner of the garden and sketch the flowers for hours on end. It was such a wonderful change from the constant noise and hustle of town– the endless parties and calls, Emma herding you around like a prized cow. When the weather was fair, Lady Georgiana would have tea set outside and she and the captain would ask for a tour through your sketchbook and kindly remark on your talents.

“Perhaps you will create a likeness of the captain, my dear,” Lady Georgiana suggested. “If he will sit still enough for you.”

The captain laughed at that remark as the valet presented him with a letter.

“Very good! It seems Djarin will be joining us tomorrow! His business in town is finished,” he said.

You tried to hide your displeasure. You had no interest in sitting through dinners and excruciating evenings with Mr. Djarin. But you had little choice in the matter. And the captain and Lady Karga had been such generous hosts, you wouldn’t insult them by cutting your visit short.

You decided that you would be as polite as necessary but keep away from him as much as possible. This was wise, you told yourself, because your reputation couldn’t suffer any more difficulties. There were plenty of people that would jump at the chance to make even a passing association with Mr. Djarin into a scandal. But, of course, there was still a part of you that smarted at the way he had dismissed you in your very first encounter. You couldn’t be prevailed upon to be pleasant to a man that was so insulting. And so you would not.

Luckily, the first two days, it was easy to avoid Mr. Djarin entirely. The captain had taken him out riding or shooting or some such activity men enjoyed and they had dined out. Lady Georgiana had become a dear companion to you but she had begun to spend far too much time hinting at how much she liked the new guest. You would merely nod and smile and let your mind wander when she started to tell you how agreeable Mr. Djarin was or how he had been such a kind friend to her father.

On the third day, you had complained of a headache so you could excuse yourself from breakfast. After you had the tea and toast that Lady Georgiana had sent up to your room, you insisted a walk would be good for you and you set out across the grounds with your sketchbook.

You decided the stables were a good place to be left alone. It wasn’t like anyone would be looking for you there and, save the horses, there was nobody there. You found a little wooden chair and sat down to draw the horses and tack.

There was a beautiful black mare with white whiskers around her snout that you were sketching when you heard a noise. It was a funny little squeal. You thought you had imagined it until you heard it again. It had come from the empty horse stall at the very end and when you set down your sketchbook to investigate, you found a little boy sitting in the hay.

“Hello,” you said to him.

He smiled up at you. He looked incredibly sweet with chubby little cheeks. His ears seemed too big for his head and his eyes, too, were big and round. He wore a little brown suit with a delicate ruffle around the neck that was now covered in mud and hay.

“What are you doing in here?” you asked him, though he seemed too small to answer.

He babbled at you and held out something in his hand.

“What’s that?”

The child leaned forward, stretching towards you, and dropped it into your hand. It was a little silver ball that jingled like it had a bell within.

“Thank you,” you chuckled.

You shook it and it made a tinkling sound. He clapped his pudgy hands together, then planted them on the ground, and carefully got to his feet. He continued to yammer on as he tottered towards you, falling on his behind once, but determined to reach you on his own.

“Grogu!” You heard a voice from the path outside that you recognized. “Grogu!”

The boy scampered out of the stable and right up to the boot of Mr. Djarin.

“Where have you been, lad? They’re turning the whole house over looking for you,” he said.

He scooped the little boy up, holding his whole body in the crook of his arm, a wide hand grasping the boy’s calf. Grogu put a dirty hand up to Mr. Djarin’s chin and he laughed softly.

Now that you had the benefit of seeing him without a mask, you realized Mr. Djarin was, indeed, quite handsome. He had full lips and a prominent nose. His skin was a shade of gold that complimented his dark eyes. His starched collar met a square jaw that was dotted with stubble. In the sunlight, you could see that his soft curls and thick sideburns were threaded with grey hairs. The smile that spread over his features was so warm, you wished you could capture it in your sketchbook.

This was the infamous child, then. You saw little resemblance between Mr. Djarin and the lad but he held him so tenderly, it made you wonder if the rumors hadn’t been true.

That’s what you were pondering when the boy turned his attention back to you, pointing with a plump little finger. Mr. Djarin’s whole body stiffened when he saw you, his eyes turning sharp.

“Good morning,” you said with a curtsy.

His jaw clenched and he nodded.

“He was playing,” you tried, tilting your head back towards the stable.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was drawing the horses,” you explained.

His head tilted just slightly.

“Is that his name? Grogu?” You asked when Mr. Djarin failed to speak.

“Yes,” he said.

You smiled. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Grogu.”

You put out your hand and the lad wrapped his fingers around one of yours.

“Ebba!” he cried.

You laughed. When you glanced at Mr. Djarin he was looking at you with an expression you could only describe as fear. Your smile faltered.

“I take it your business was concluded. In a satisfactory manner, I hope?” you inquired politely.

His brow furrowed momentarily and he opened his mouth and then set Grogu down at his feet.

“Yes. I-” he cleared his throat. “Please, you must forgive me for my behavior at the masquerade. Lady Georgiana said that I offended you. That was not my intention.”

You felt heat in your cheeks once again, embarrassment mixed with anger. You couldn’t believe he had to be told that he had acted like an ass. “Not to worry, sir. My pride has already been damaged so thoroughly, what is but one more slight?”

The look that crossed his face was absolute horror. You would have apologized for speaking so plainly but you frankly didn’t care. What right did he have to judge you? To apologize like you were so pitiful when here he was with his love child. You knew what men like Mr. Djarin were like and you’d learned to keep a wide berth.

“I- I should tell them that I’ve found him,” Mr. Djarin said. “Good day.”

He turned to go back up the path.

“Wait!” you called.

You blushed when you realized how impolite it sounded. Mr. Djarin turned carefully but said nothing. You approached him, painfully aware of the way he stared at you. It was difficult to meet his eye. You swallowed and held out the child’s ball to him. Mr. Djarin put out his hand and you placed it in his palm. As you did, your fingertips brushed his hand and you shivered. His skin felt rough and his palm was so large compared to your own. Your breath caught and, for some reason, you wished he would close his fingers around yours. You quickly withdrew your hand.

The boy reached out for the ball with a coo.

“Much obliged,” Mr Djarin managed. He was still looking at you with intense concentration.

Your chest felt tight.

“I’ll let them know at the house,” you stuttered and after a quick curtsy you were rushing back up the path.

--- Chapter 2

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#regency!au #regency!din #din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #mandalorian au #mandalorian fic #the mandalorian

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luckydragon10 · 2 years

Text

P&P Chapters 25 and 26

(Chapters 23 and 24)

Okay, so, last couple of chapters I had many thoughts and opinions. What will happen today, I wonder?

Score check:

Lizzy dipped down to +15.

Mr. Darcy, perpetually absent right now, is still at -10

~~~

Chapter 25

The Netherfield ladies would have had difficulty in believing that a man who lived by trade, and within view of his own warehouses, could have been so well-bred and agreeable.

Snobbity snob snob snob!

Mrs. Gardiner, to whom the chief of this news had been given before, in the course of Jane and Elizabeth’s correspondence with her, made her sister a slight answer, and, in compassion to her nieces, turned the conversation.

Good choice. Thank you for moving it along. I don't need it rehashed any more than you do.

Mrs. Gardiner: "I am sorry for her, because, with her disposition, she may not get over it immediately. It had better have happened to you, Lizzy; you would have laughed yourself out of it sooner."

A second person is telling Lizzy they're okay with her getting jilted? Because she can handle it, apparently? What is going on here? I'm feeling a little indignant on her behalf, but it doesn't even phase her. She might feel differently if she'd ever been jilted.

When the engagement was for home, some of the officers always made part of it—of which officers Mr. Wickham was sure to be one; and on these occasions, Mrs. Gardiner, rendered suspicious by Elizabeth’s warm commendation, narrowly observed them both. Without supposing them, from what she saw, to be very seriously in love, their preference of each other was plain enough to make her a little uneasy; and she resolved to speak to Elizabeth on the subject before she left Hertfordshire, and represent to her the imprudence of encouraging such an attachment.

Oh thank goodness. Auntie Gardiner is a welcome addition to the cast all around.

It's really strange to me how little Uncle Gardiner is mentioned? I know he's THERE, but he isn't THERE. I feel like the text is kind of dismissive of men in general.

~~~

Chapter 26

Lizzy: “I beg your pardon, I will try again. At present I am not in love with Mr. Wickham; no, I certainly am not. But he is, beyond all comparison, the most agreeable man I ever saw—and if he becomes really attached to me—I believe it will be better that he should not. I see the imprudence of it. [...] All that I can promise you, therefore, is not to be in a hurry. I will not be in a hurry to believe myself his first object. When I am in company with him, I will not be wishing. In short, I will do my best.”

This girl talked rings around herself throughout this whole huge paragraph. Did she even stop to take a breath? And I cut out several lines. Child is getting lost in her own head and imaginings. She's very fanciful, isn't she?

Her aunt assured her that she was, and Elizabeth having thanked her for the kindness of her hints, they parted; a wonderful instance of advice being given on such a point, without being resented.

I feel like it's a wonderful instance of advice being given without clear examples and explanation of what the actual problem is. Thanks so much for that.

“My father and Maria are coming to me in March,” added Charlotte, “and I hope you will consent to be of the party. Indeed, Eliza, you will be as welcome as either of them.”

Charlotte is still good people. So sorry she had to pick Mr. Collins. I get it, but it sucks.

Hmm, lots of Jane pining and doing her best to hold still and wait for her boy to show up.

Hmm, Jane seeing through Caroline at last, giving up on Bingley, got it.

Hmm, Wicky moving on to flirt with some other girl, Elizabeth being generally fine with it. She really only was platonically interested in him. That was pretty clear from the start.

Wow Lizzy really overthinks everything. 🤣 I say this as an overthinker.

Lizzy: "They are young in the ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain.”

You're too passionate to be this cynical. You like saying things that are witty and fancy, but the reality is you're gonna get knocked on your ass so hard when you finally are in love.

(Chapters 27 and 28)

#nemi reads p&p #pride and predujice #chapters 25 and 26

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years

Text

The Brothers and Side Characters Play Ticket To Ride

Guess who just had a family game night and decided this would be a good idea? Meeeeee!

Last Minute Road/Track Buyer (Lucifer)

This smug son of a bitch doesn’t even complete his trip cards. He just amasses a massive deck of cards and then buys all of the five and six roads, effectively messing up everyone’s strategies.

Luci would have a good poker face if it weren’t for how giddy he gets when he sees the hope drain from his opponents faces as he takes the coveted fifteen point six road.

His main colour is black because he’s an emo bitch.

Lucifer can and Lucifer will take that two road you need to connect your trains, thus ruining everyone’s lives.

He basks in the chaos and rage like a god before Beel tells him that he’s eaten all the game night chips.

He’ll win sometimes, but his lack of trip cards will often be his downfall. Lucifer is just here to fuck everyone over.

FUCK YOU! DON’T YOU DARE TAKE THAT CARD- (Mammon)

Mammon’s greedy little heart sank when he heard that Monopoly had been passed over for family game night, but he caught onto the rules of Ticket to Ride very quickly.

Being the gambler he is, Mammon’s poker face is completely god-tier… except when he has all the cards needed to make his road or someone else takes the cards he needs.

Levi is often the main culprit and fights have started over this.

He argues with the rules a lot if he thinks they’re stupid, this gives Satan a migraine.

Mammon doesn’t save his cards, the moment he has all the ones he needs, he’s buying his road, which is good at the beginning, but often leads to him ending up with no cards by the end.

He is SO insufferable when he wins, please beat him so we don’t have to hear him gloat like an asshole.

Rule-Whore (Leviathan)

“That’s against the rules!” “You can’t have more than three wild cards in the draw pile!” “You need to take three trip cards!”

…so annoying…

Levi is such a rule whore he’ll try and take the instructions from Satan, which will usually result in Levi getting socked in the jaw.

He mains blue because obviously.

Levi tends to plan out his route ahead of time, but he makes it too obvious and his roads end up getting sniped, thus rendering all the cards he had amassed completely useless.

He gets super iffy about his trains being in perfect formation both on and off the board.

Beat his ass for being annoying.

Ha! I’ve Planned for This- Aw Fuck…(Satan)

You fool, you stupid human, Satan had planned out his route ten years before the first turn even happened!

All he has to do now is- DID LUCIFER JUST SNIPE HIS FUCKING ROAD?!

…he’s cool, he’s calm. He can work around this. Satan just has to get the cards he needs- SON OF A BITCH MAMMON WHY’D YOU TAKE BOTH THE ORANGES?!

Worried about your asshole fellow players not giving you your points? Fret not, Satan has everyone’s points memorized and will adjust accordingly. He’s winning this fair and square.

Satan manages to win pretty frequently solely because he picks up so many trip cards and completes a good chunk of them.

Satan mains green because I said so.

Annoying Spectator (Asmodeus)

For the love of God Asmo, you aren’t even playing! Shut up and go away!

He leans over people’s shoulders and criticizes their choices like the world’s most annoying guardian angel… or demon.

“Pick up red.” “Asmo, piss off.” “I’m just trying to help, Belphie! Look, Mammon’s gone and taken your road!” “I DIDN’T EVEN NEED THAT ONE!”

When Asmo does play, he doesn’t play well at all, he just has the worst luck with cards and has the worst poker face.

If someone just took a card that Asmo needed, they are going to get glared at from across the table.

Almost never wins, but when he does, he’s INSUFFERABLE.

“It’s so nice to have the family together :)” (Beel)

Sweet man is just happy everyone’s together, he’s also happy about the multiple party size bags of chips that are on the table.

Beel builds his roads from point A to point B, no fancy skipping or strategies. This often serves him quite well because he can just shift where he’s going on the fly.

Though, he does get confused on where some of the locations are, he’ll end up accidentally cheating and looking at people’s cards when he leans over to see the whole board to try and find out where TF he’s going.

He tries to complete every trip card he has, and he mostly succeeds at that, buuuuut he never thinks to pick up more, which is his downfall.

He mains red, because Duh.

Overall, Beel’s a surprisingly formidable opponent, his resting bitch face serves him well.

“*Snrk* H-huh? What the fuck… what’d I knock over? Where am I? Whose turn is it?” (Belphie)

This little shit- THIS LITTLE BASTARD FUCKS EVERYTHING UP. He falls asleep and when anyone wakes him up for his turn, he “accidentally” knocks everyone’s trains off the board.

He’s doing terribly. Don’t help him.

Belphie loses motivation the moment someone ruins his carefully formulated plan, and making a new one’s too much work so… *snore*

He takes what he can get with the trip cards, he’ll complete the smaller ones and kind of eyeball the big ones and make it up as he goes along if everything goes to shit.

If Belphie gets bored, he’ll purposefully break the rules just to piss of Levi and Satan. He’s a little goblin…

Belphie wins when he puts the work in… which is never.

…Wait what? (Diavolo)

Diavolo is literally the worst at this game at first. He’s picking up two wild cards when he’s not supposed to, he’s buying roads when it’s not his turn, he somehow messed up the points, ugh…

He gets really confused about the rules, he’ll often interrupt people mid-turn to ask a question that spirals into a long explanation.

But when he finally understands the game… May the demon king have mercy on your souls…

He goes from zero to hero and crushes everyone without fail.

It doesn’t matter if he had shitty luck in the beginning because he’s come back to completely ruin your entire route.

Oh, Solomon needed that road? Too bad. It belongs to Diavolo now. Give him his fucking points.

Peace between the realms can wait, he’s got noobs to pwn.

The Wise Mentor (Barbatos)

Barbatos can see the future, he’s cheating by default.

When he sort of… turns off his powers, people still think he’s cheating because he’s just that good at guessing where people need to go and crushing their hopes and dreams.

Except for Luke. Barbatos is teaching him how to be as brutal a player as he is. He will not crush Luke.

As good a player as Barbatos is, one bad trip card will crush his entire strategy. This may be the one time you hear him swear.

It’s a very quiet “son of a bitch..”

Cheater. Asshole. Fight instigator. (Solomon)

Okay who the fuck invited this guy?

Better question, who the fuck let him be in charge of the cards?

Solomon cheats and lies about it, all with a smile on his face. Think you caught him? No you didn’t.

He peeks at cards before he grabs them, gives people the worst possible ones for what they’re doing, AND he gets potato chip grease all over the cards!

When he’s no my allowed to cheat, Solomon’s only half decent at the game overall. Luck is usually on his side, but sometimes luck isn’t enough.

0/10 kick his shifty ass out.

“No, stop,” *Pulls out popcorn* “Don’t fight, oh no.” (Simeon)

Fucking Simeon… he sits back and watches the fight even though he knows he can stop it.

When he’s playing the actual game, he’s pretty average, but when he gets on a roll, oh boy…

He doesn’t snipe roads on purpose, but he’s gotta get where he’s going. Sorry not sorry, may the good lord bless your loser ass.

Sexy shoulder-man’s poker face isn’t anything special, it’s 5/7 overall.

Simeon’s fatal flaw is that he picks up cards only when he needs them, he doesn’t plan ahead, so it’s super easy to swipe the cards he needs before his turn.

He is nice enough to move everyone’s points for them^.^ so he’s better than the rest of those dirty sinners.

“NO PLEASE I NEED THAT ROAD-” (Luke)

So you know how everyone is an awful person? This is proven whenever the gang plays Ticket to Ride with Luke.

Luke demands/begs that no one takes the roads he needs and almost no one listens.

It’s heartbreaking to watch please give the little angel a hug.

But listen, listen, after a bit, Luke gets scary good at the game and very close to winning. His little victory dance is so fucking cute 10/10.

But oh my… it appears that Luke has one tiny road he needs to connect his trains… it would be a shame if Lucifer just… took that.

Luke gets petty, he just puts his hand over the spot and refuses to move it. This goes on for like five minutes until Levi brings up that it’s not even Lucifer’s turn.

Gasp! Hope! It’s Solomon’s turn- HE TOOK THE FUCKING ROAD.

…betrayal.

Luke’s moving out. He can’t go back to Purgatory Hall. He’s going to become the little Victorian street urchin he was destined to become. He is packing his little rucksack and fleeing from this household.

————

I love family game nights… all of you should get together with your family and your squad and break out some board games. Just not Monopoly. Anything but Monopoly…

#obey me #Obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me! headcanons #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor #Obey me Diavolo #Obey Me Barbatos #Obey me Solomon #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Luke

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1littleshippergirl1 · 3 years

Text

Teachers have lives, too

Percy/Oliver

Modern AU with magic. Teacher AU. Zoom style

Prompt 23 (I think) from my challenge: secret relationship

My first and only Percy/Oliver fic. Hope y'all enjoy it!

"What, no robes?" Oliver raised his eyebrows when Percy came out of their bedroom dressed in one of Oliver's muggle style t-shirts and casual trousers instead of strictly adhering to the dress code of wearing his teaching robes like he'd set upon himself to do since the start of online school.

"I didn't feel like it," Percy shrugged as he took a much needed gulp of tea. Swallowing, he added, "It's Friday and I doubt the kids will care."

Oliver propped himself up on the countertop by his elbows, simply adoring the way his shirt highlighted the muscles that his boyfriend was adamant didn't exist. "You're staring," Percy remarked idly.

"can't help it. You're irresistible, love."

Percy scoffed, but Oliver saw that tiny smile appear when he made to turn around. Grinning, he maneuvered around the counter to sneak his arms around the red-head's waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. "We should take the day off," he murmured into his ear. "Tell Minerva we're both sick."

"Much as I would simply love to," Percy turned to face him, "we can't and you know that." He moved away and Oliver sighed dramatically.

"Don't see why we have to keep it a secret, Perce."

Percy shrugged again. "I don't want our private life aired out for everyone. You know how nosy the kids are."

"I know how nosy Phoebe is," Oliver chuckled as Percy snorted and rolled his eyes.

Phoebe Wren was one of Hogwart's newest students, a Gryffindor and a complete and utter chatterbox. She had no qualms about asking personal questions or blurting out whatever came to mind, no matter how embarrassing it was to the other person. She was a nice enough girl, a real sweetheart but that mouth of hers needed controlling.

"Didn't she ask you to take off your shirt so she could see if that rumor about you having a tattoo was true or not?"

Percy groaned good naturedly. "Don't remind me. I've yet to figure out who even started that ridiculous rumor."

Oliver's eyes dropped and a broad, yet sheepish grin came across his face. "Well-"

Percy's jaw dropped but he was smiling as well and choked out laughter. "You didn't."

"In my defense," Oliver chuckled, "I was bored and Phoebe was willing to listen."

"You should be ashamed of yourself, spreading rumors like a third year," Percy had a sparkle of mischievousness and playfully swatted Oliver's bum.

"I should be," Oliver agreed, smiling cheekily. "But I'm not."

Percy rolled his eyes good naturedly and opened up his computer. "Quiet, now,' he ordered mildly. "I don't want her hearing you."

Phoebe had a tendency to bring up irrelevant subjects in class that had absolutely nothing to do with the lesson. Other times she was late to another class because she stayed on chat with Percy to talk about anything and everything she wholeheartedly believed he needed to know. So, being that she was in his first hour of the day, he let her get on early so she could get everything out of the way ahead of time.

In a very unPrecy like manner, he curled up on the couch, with his feet facing one way and the computer resting on his lap. He clicked on Zoom, waiting for his students to sign on. In the meantime, Oliver moved Percy's legs, raising them up a bit and sat down, laying them on top of his upper thighs. The redhead raised his eyebrows but his boyfriend merely smiled innocently.

He didn't buy it one bit.

Oliver began to gently rub Percy's legs, massaging them. The redhead would be lying if he said it didn't feel good. "I know what you're trying to do," Percy closed his eyes.

"I'm just giving you a massage, love," Oliver momentarily passed, grabbing Percy's hand to press a kiss to his knuckles.

Quiet, Percy mouthed as Phoebe's window screen popped up. Immediately, red came into his vision. A bright red. She'd dyed the ends of her hair red with some muggle beverage. Today, she wore her hair in two knots on top of her head with the end pieces sticking upward for the world to see. She beamed as soon as she saw him, bouncing in her chair. He couldn't help but smile back. She was contagious in that aspect.

"Hello, Professor Weasley!"

"Hello, Phoebe," he said, warmly. "I trust you had a good weekend?"

"oh, yes! Unless you count my mum's mood swings. I think she's going through menopause."

"I see," Percy said as he noticed Oliver trying not to laugh and waved him off for it.

"Your mum's still around, right? Is she going through menopause, too?"

That was just something he preferred not to think about. "Remember what I said about asking inappropriate questions?"

"Yes," she nodded, more like bobbed her head up and down. "But it's not like I asked something personal."

"Actually-"

"Professor Weasley, how old are you?"

"Excuse me?" Percy raised his eyebrows.

"You're like thirty five, right?"

Percy spluttered indignantly. Oliver was laughing in one of the couch pillows to keep from being heard. "I'm not even thirty yet!"

"Really?"

"Yes," he said shortly.

"Woooow. Talk about being unlucky."

Percy pinched the bridge of his nose. He loved his job....he loved his job....he loved his students....

His thoughts were broken through by an excited squeal. "Oh my gosh! You should totally let me give you a makeover! I read this magazine and I can totally make you look twenty."

"As kind as that is," Percy lied through his teeth, "I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

She pouted.

Percy inwardly sighed in relief when the rest of the class popped up. They said their hello's and he allowed the kids a few minutes to talk before he dove into the lesson. All the while, Oliver had a free period so he stayed where he was, poking and touching Percy. First it was his knees, drawing circles on them. Then he grabbed the red-head's hand again, interlocking their fingers. When they couldn't keep it like that, Oliver's hand slithered up to Percy's bum--to what he could reach anyway--and the red-head gave him a subtle warning look.

He let out a grunt when Oliver gave it a squeeze. Oh, he was so in trouble once school was over. If it weren't for the fact he was still in charge of twenty five students, he would toss the laptop aside and tackle Oliver now. Soon, he promised himself. Right after class when he had a bit of a break.

"Professor Weasley!"

"What's he staring at?"

"I dunno."

"He looks constipated. Professor, are you constipated? I can relate. See just the other day-"

"No, Phoebe," he said, cutting her off. "I'm fine. Sorry everyone, just spaced out for a moment."

Discreetly, he mouthed to Oliver, this is all your fault

Oliver looked pleased.

Percy rolled his eyes.

"Professor, I was thinking about something."

"Yes, Phoebe?" He said, warily.

"You totally need a date!"

He spluttered. "Excuse me?"

Some of his students snickered and giggled.

"Men your age need that companionship. And the sex. Unless you're like a virgin," she said with a thoughtful expression. "Are there virgins at your age? Oooh, if not you could be the world's oldest virgin! Do wizards have a record book? Muggles do. I think you get money for it...."

Oliver's face was fairly red now from trying to refrain from laughing out loud.

He sighed heavily. He did not get paid enough for this job. "That is inappropriate to ask-"

"Do you fancy anyone? I could totally set you up. I've seen a gazillion rom coms. I know what to do!"

Percy checked the time. No he couldn't leave yet. He sat up straighter, figuring that if he started the lesson now, he could salvage what was left of the time.

And his dignity.

Suddenly, someone--Phoebe, of course-- let out a gasp.

" Professor, you're wearing Professor Wood's shirt!"

Percy's head snapped down to look at it. It wasn't anything distinctive that could be traced back to his boyfriend. Nothing about Puddlemere or how much of a fanatic he was (he'd gotten a shirt like that as a gift for Oliver's birthday once). Just a plain olive green shirt. How did she-

Oliver was surprised too.

"How do you know?" One of his other students demanded.

"isn't it obvious? He's worn it before."

"You also said it makes his muscles pop," someone else pointed out.

Shamelessly, Phoebe agreed and added, "No offense, Professor Weasley, but that looks hideous on you. That is so not your color."

"It's a good thing I have you, Phoebe. Otherwise I might have worn the bloody thing outside," Percy deadpanned.

She nodded vigorously in agreement. Then something seemed to click in her mind. "Oh my gosh!" She let out another squeal. "Do you guys know what this means?!"

Her classmates simply blinked.

"If Professor Weasley is wearing Professor Wood's shirt....they must be together or something!"

Alarm was clouded over Percy's face. He was rendered speechless at how she'd figured it out. Oliver jumped to his feet and came around to the camera on the laptop so the kids could see him. "Hey, kids," he waved.

"No way!" Phoebe exclaimed excitedly. "Hi Professor Wood! I can't believe you hooked up with our History professor. This is so cool! Everyone thinks you're both hot. This is like double hot....like fire!"

Both men regarded her with amusement.

"I feel like I should warn you, Professor Wood, that if you break Professor Weasley's heart, there's gonna be problems."

"Oh?"Oliver chuckled.

Phoebe nodded. "He's the nicest professor ever and if you make him cry just know I'm good with a knife."

"I have no intention of breaking Perc-Professor Weasley's heart," Oliver reassured her and kissed Percy on the forehead. The girls awwed and the boys grumbled about how gross it was.

Percy was grinning broadly. He'd been wrong about all this. Perhaps they didn't need to hide in the first place.

After class was over with, Percy placed the laptop on the floor and laid on the couch with Oliver on top of him, his head resting on his chest. The red-head threaded his fingers through his boyfriend's hair, craning at his neck at times to nuzzle him.

"Do you regret telling them?" Oliver murmured.

"No," Percy decided, dropping a kiss on Oliver's soft hair. "Not one bit."

"Me either."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Even if you are the world's oldest virgin."

"Oh shut up!"

#harry potter #percyweasleywritingchallenge #oliver wood #percy weasley #percy weasley fic #percy x oliver #percy weasley fanfiction #perciver

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