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ririban · 4 months

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I really cannot fully explain just how much The Case Files of Jeweler Richard means to me. I will never not be grateful about having come across it when I did. Like, I’m from India, and India isn’t the best place to actually be exposed to what being queer means. For the longest time I didn’t even know that the acronym went beyond the letter T. The word aromantic meant nothing to me because it wasn’t a word I knew. All I knew was that when my friends were getting crushes and dating, I was desperately trying to find new excuses for why I didn’t have anyone I was interested in. Because “I don’t want to be in a relationship” was an answer that earned me strange looks.

I did eventually learn that something called aromanticism exists by the time I went to college, but I never really bothered to learn what that entailed. Then I met a friend who happened to be asexual, and she pointed out that based on what I told her, I might be aroace. And I thought about it for a while, but wasn’t really convinced. More importantly, the idea of sticking a label to myself kinda scared me because it felt like it was something irreversible.

And then Jeweler Richard happened. I really enjoyed the first episode, even shed a couple of tears. The inclusion of a canon lesbian character in the second episode was a pleasant surprise (I did not know about Tatsuki back then. Present day me is annoyed we never got to see her in the anime). But it went from an anime I simply enjoyed to a story I absolutely fell in love with in episode 8: The Angel's Aquamarine. This was the episode in which we first found out about Tanimoto’s views on romance, and I found myself understanding where she was coming from. Online people were discussing how she came off as aromantic, and that made me think again. But, again, “sticking” that label to me wasn’t something I was comfortable with.

That changed when I came across a certain passage in volume 6. For those of you who haven’t read the novel yet and are okay with spoilers, Tanimoto visits Étranger after being invited by Seigi. There she has a conversation with Richard, during which he tells her this:

“Humans are creatures that can only recognize the present moment as reality. But that present changes, moment by moment. For example, someone who was bisexual in their twenties might decide to identify as heterosexual in their thirties. Or someone who considered themself heterosexual at age seventeen might realize that they’re gay at age twenty-five. Someone who may have considered themself polyamorous and open to relationships with anyone might feel as though they’ve met their soulmate at age fifty-five and become monogamous. Of course, this isn’t true of everyone—but from a statistical perspective, changes of this nature aren’t at all unusual. It’s just like how, if left to their own devices, our hair and nails will continue to grow.”

The reason I was scared of declaring myself as aro was because I worried that it was something I’d never be able to take back. That becoming aro to the people around me wouldn’t allow me to one day say, “no, I don’t think I actually am aromantic”. I would’ve rather stayed in a state of being confused than make a decision I couldn’t undo. But then Richard told Tanimoto that it’s fine. It’s fine to change your mind later on. That a label isn’t fixed to you, and isn’t something you have to carry throughout your life if it’s something you no longer identify with. And idk if I can even begin to explain how important that was to me. Because those were the words I needed.

It’s okay that I’m not interested in being in a relationship. It’s okay if I call myself aro. It’s okay for me to no longer make up excuses because a simple “I’m not interested in dating” is enough. This is a comparison that only Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint fans will get, but The Case Files of Jeweler Richard is to me what Three Ways to Survive the Apocalypse is to Kim Dokja. JR did not save my life in the way that TWSA did for Kim Dokja, but it had a bigger impact on my life than any other story. I’d like to believe that the love I have for JR is similar to the love Dokja holds for TWSA.

As a final point, this confidence in myself and my identity isn’t all that JR gave me. Another important thing that happened in my life thanks to it is that I made many lovely friends in the fandom 💕

#personal #jeweler richard #the case files of richard the jeweler #housekishou richard shi no naze kantei #aromantic #aromanticism #there was a lot more i wanted to say about my struggles with the concept of romance in my pre-jr days #but it’s long as is and i didn’t want to bore people with my ramblings #but i hope i’ve managed to convey my feelings about jr even a little bit through this

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tubeon · 2 months

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Have you ever explained Daisy’s lore, or really what she does? SHES SO ADORABLE and I wanna know everything about her

You're asking ME about my OC???? OHG BOOOY!!!!!! I'm too excited Where do I start.

Press read more to know more about HER ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️ (it's a lot. I'm not exaggerating)

Warning for heavy religious themes and implied racism/discrimination.

This is Daisyyy and she's my Outlast Trials reagent oc!!! Her legal name is Alice Bell, and her legal birthdate is 12/10/1940 (19 as of now)

She and her parents immigrated from (British) India to America in 1943 to escape the Bengal Famine, going from the west coast to the state of Georgia, where they found a Southern Baptist Community that would be their permanent home, as long as they converted to Southern Baptism.

This is a gated community that's kind of on the outskirts of town, so Daisy grew up sheltered, but she adapted better than her parents did, making friends only with girls (because boys her age were incredibly mean to her) and participating with her church, faith, and community. Her relationship with her parents and older/authority figures was distant, but it was peaceful as she grew up.

Daisy was no pushover around fellow teens, she was loud and funny with her girl friends, and snarky towards boys who were mean, she really liked coming up with sassy remarks. Quarrels hardly went beyond throwing childish insults at eachother. However, tensions against her would rise, she was often blamed for arguments, labeled "rebellious", and lectured to do better, all by older folks. But nonetheless!! She had her best friend Peggy, and her close friend Jane, who was also a child of an immigrant family, coming from China. She didn't belong to the Baptist community, but visited occasionally from the Ranch she worked for, often on horseback. Daisy really liked Jane and the horses, not so much the boys that came with her.

Over the years, Daisy would become really close to Jane, and even though Daisy wasn't allowed to visit the ranch, and Jane wasn't allowed in the community, they often met in the middle throughout the week.

This made her just a little more distant to her church, something that didn't go looked over despite her genuine faith and achievements within it. It wouldn't help that, at some point, while arguing with one of the Ranch boys, her best friend Peggy's anger would boil over and she would slap the boy so hard he fell straight to the ground. Long story short, the father of the Ranch got pissed, and even though Daisy hadn't done anything, she got in trouble.

Gossip flies around fast in a small community, and with the strain on everything that wasn't her friends, Daisy was encouraged to go into the city by the Pastor. She could be like a missionary, spreading the word of God and their small community, just on a smaller scale. She was told it would strengthen her faith, and her relationship with God, since she had been so "disobedient". Daisy was almost 19 at this point, and was expected to do this by herself.

Daisy was so ashamed that she couldn't bring herself to say goodbye to her friends or parents, leaving just a letter behind. She wanted to say goodbye to Jane, but on the day she packed, Jane didn't show up.

In the city, it didn't take long for Daisy to hear about a charity event, thinking it was a good place to meet nice people, she'd go to the address listed on the posters. And that's how she gets to the Sinyala Facility!! ^_^

Daisy has never been in that kind of environment OBVIOUSLY but she adapts in her own way, even keeping her wits. Through the mansion and through the few trials she does, her expertise is in hiding. Daisy is much smaller than the average girl her age, making it easy to get through cramped spaces or hide in unconventional spots. She is hardly a team player though, she is willing to help people where she can, mostly through finding medicine, or distracting ex-pops with bottles or other red herrings, but she hardly participates in completing the tasks given. She refuses to fetch keys out of corpses or deliberately hurt the victims (i.e. Snitch) she isn't strong or athletic, so she avoids detection at all costs. Better at finding keys on a pedestal and tinkering with the generators.

In her first couple trials, she'd be caught twice. First time, she was running in the dark and bumped into a small grunt, she was able to get away because she had scared the grunt, but when the adrenaline washed away she realized her face had been cut up, likely from that encounter. Shes actually pretty okay about it, and it leaves a fork-like scar on her face. The second time, she'd be caught by Coyle. In this scene he'd grab her by her hair, pulling and then throwing her against the floor, and as he goes to pull her up from her hair again, she grabs a bottle, first smashing it into his head, and since he didn't let go, then stabbing the remains of it into his ribs, leaving it there as he drops her. That's the first but not the last time she'll barely escape him.

After she's done with those trials, she moves onto Gooseberrys trials, onto Cleanse The Orphans. I go into real detail abt this one its IMPORTANT. She does this trial with 3 others like she always has, but one of them is important her name is Mincemeat and SHE'S IMPORTANT!!! Daisy actually does decently well early into the trial, and although she's not fond of the Gorey Nuns, she prevails. She feels bad for taking a cross necklace from one of them, but now she has one. She's able to sneak around to radios, and she can work better as a teammate with the reels.

The problem is when they get to the chapel, Mincemeat has done this before and it shows in the b-line she makes to break the jukebox, and soon the jesus victim comes forward. Daisy is taken aback, but her first thought is to try and save him. That's what the keys are for. She convinces the other two reagents that's what they have to do, is free him. Mincemeat encourages Daisy to go into the basement with her to get the generators taken care of, and the other two can find keys.

As they finish up down there, Mincemeat tells her to stay until she makes sure it's safe upstairs. Daisy is hesitant but agrees, and finds one of the few rooms with light in that basement. And then the screaming starts, and all she can do is curl up and cover her ears until it fizzles out, and Mincemeat comes to get her.

She tells her not to look as they come up, but Daisy looks anyways and it's absolutely ungodly. She starts to go catatonic and before Mince can tell the other reagents to wait, one of them presses the button on the podium. It's raining blood now, it's great. One of the reagents rush to the doors to get out of the chapel, when Gooseberry comes through and immediately drills a hole through their eye and head, killing them instantly. The three take this time to rush past, with Mince trying to guide Daisy as best she can. In their rush to the shuttle, the other reagent somehow gets sliced up, he's still running but he's bleeding profusely. Ex-pops are still pursuing them, so once they reach the shuttles, Mince would shove Daisy into it.

Now they're safe, but it's far from calm. Daisy is sobbing while she's down on the ground, Mince tries to say sorry and pick her up but she just screams and crawls away. She doesn't know what to do, but the other reagent begs her to get into her seat because he's bleeding out. Daisy takes a moment, but gets into the seat to be restrained and brought to evaluation.

After she's brought back to the sleeproom, Daisy goes to her room, tears off the night vision goggles from her head, and refuses to participate in trials and any social activities. Through Dorris' lore we know it's possible to stay out of trials indefinitely, thanks to people on the inside. This is also the case for Daisy, though she doesn't know it.

Daisy goes into a far more reserved and "childish" state after these events, and stays in her room to draw, read, make her own clothes out of blanket or cloth scrap, and pray. Another thing she did was try her best to keep track of the days. She did this by paying attention to the guards and their shifts. This is all she did for awhile until Mince became her friend, and later another reagent named Soro. This is actually the time where she would introduce herself as Daisy.

She isnt a preachy type, but she really sinks herself into her faith, and would mention to Mince how she believes that this facility is something prompted by God as a sort of "Preview" into what hell is, and what awaits for sinners. It's a test of faith for her. She thinks as long as she keeps faith, she can escape this place one way or another.

Her character and story DOES develop past this but I'm debating whether or not I wanna make comics for her sooooo,

TLDR: Daisy was raised southern baptist and got reeeally traumatized after Cleanse The Orphans and now she's an even more timid girl with a tight bible belt. She has at least two friends though YIPPEEEAAAA

#applause. to anyone who bothers to read all this #or even just scroll down to the tldr #daisy

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godinvent · 2 months

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So I saw this post about how in the books, Dracula is actually an old man and I always imagined Dracula looked like older Christopher Lee, who played him while he was a kid. While looking him up I accidentally discovered that Christopher Lee was the coolest person in the universe and there is a non-zero chance he was actually Dracula in real life

Sir Christopher Frank Carandini Lee CBE CStJ (May 27th 1922 - June 7th 2015), Sir because he was knighted in 2009 for his charity and his contributions to cinema

So first of all, I saw that he actually knew 8 LANGUAGES (English, Spanish, French, Swedish, Italian, German, Russian and Greek) and was also a staggering 6 feet 5 inches in height. Born in Belgravia in London, one of the most Dracula sounding places I’ve ever heard of, here’s some insane facts about him

•His father, Lieutenant Colonel Geoffrey Trollope Lee of the 60th King's Royal Rifle Corps, fought in the Boer War and World War 1

•His mother, Countess Estelle Marie (née Carandini di Sarzano) was an Edwardian beauty who was painted by Sir John Lavery, Oswald Birley, and Olive Snell, and sculpted by Clare Sheridan

•Lee's maternal great-grandfather, Jerome Carandini, the Marquis of Sarzano, was an Italian political refugee

•Jerome’s wife was English-born opera singer Marie Carandini (née Burgess), meaning that Lee is also related to famous opera singer Rosina Palmer

•His parents would divorce when he was four and his mother would marry Harcourt George St-Croix Rose, banker and uncle of Ian Fleming, making the author of the James Bond books Lee’s step cousin. Fleming would then offer him two roles as the antagonist in the film adaptations of his books, though he was only able to land the antagonist role in The Man With the Golden Gun. It’s believed his role in the film is significantly better and more complex than his book counterpart, played as “a dark side of Bond”

•His family would move and they lived next door to famous silent film actor Eric Maturin

•One night, before he was even 9 years old, he was introduced to Prince Yusupov and Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich, THE ASSASSINS OF GRIGORI RASPUTIN, WHOM LEE WOULD GO ON TO PLAY MANY YEARS LATER

•Lee applied for a scholarship to Eton, where his interview was in the presence of the ghost story author M.R. James, who is considered one of the best English language ghost story writers in history and who widely influenced modern horror

•He only missed by King’s Scholar by one place by being bad at math, one of the only flaws God gave him

•Due to lack of working opportunities, Lee was sent to the French Riviera and stayed with his sister and her friends while she was on holiday, and on the way there he stopped briefly in Paris with journalist Webb Miller, a friend of his step father. Webb Miller was an American journalist and war correspondent and was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize for his coverage of the execution of the French serial killer Henri Désiré Landru, also known as BLUEBEARD. He also helped turn world opinion against British colonial rule of India

•While staying with Miller he witnessed Eugen Weidmann’s execution by guillotine, the last public execution ever performed in France

•Arriving in Menton, Lee stayed with the Russian Mazirov family, living among exiled princely families

•When World War 2 began, Lee volunteered to fight for the Finnish Army against the Soviet Union in the Winter War, and a year later, Lee would join the Home Guard. After his father died, he would join the Royal Air Force and was an intelligence officer and leading aircraft man and would later retire as a flight lieutenant in 1946

•While spending some time on leave in Naples, Lee climbed Mount Vesuvius, which erupted only three days later

•After nearly dying in an assault on Monte Cassino, Lee was able to visit Rome where he met his mother’s cousin Nicolò Carandini, who had fought in the Italian Resistance Movement. Nicolò would later go on to be the Italian Ambassador to Britain. Nicolò was actually the one to convince Lee to become an actor in the first place

•Oh yeah Christopher Lee was seconded to the Central Registry of War Criminals and Security Suspects where he was tasked with HELPING TRACK DOWN NAZI WAR CRIMINALS

•Lee’s stepfather served as a captain in the Intelligence Corps

•He was actually told he was too tall to be an actor, though that would honestly help him considering one of his first roles was as The Creature in The Curse of Frankenstein

•He was cast in Captain Horatio Hornblower R.N (1951) as a Spanish captain due to not only his fluency in Spanish but also he knew how to fence!

•Lee’s portrayal of Dracula had a crucial aspect of it which Bela Lugosi’s didn’t have: sexuality, a prime aspect of the original novels.

•While being trapped into playing Dracula under Hammer Film Productions, Lee actually hated the script so much that he would try his best to sneak actual lines from the original novel into the script

•Ironically, he was rejected from playing in The Longest Day because “he didn’t look like a military man”

•Christopher Lee was friends with author Dennis Wheatley, who “was responsible for bringing the occult into him”. He would go on to play in two film adaptations of his novels

•His biggest regret in his career is not taking the role of Sam Loomis from Halloween when offered to him

•Christopher Lee was the only person involved with the Lord of the Rings movies to have actually met J.R.R Tolkien

•When playing Count Dooku, he actually did most of the swordsmanship himself

•Christopher Lee was the second oldest living performer to enter the Billboard Top 100 charts with the song “Jingle Hell” at 91 years old. After media attention, he would get No. 18, and Lee became the oldest person to ever hit the Billboard Top 20 chart

I really am leaving some stuff out here and I may go on

#christopher lee #dracula #dracula by bram stoker #frankensteins creature #adam frankenstein #frankenstein #lord of the rings #star wars #count dooku #saruman #james bond #ian fleming

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calabria-mediterranea · 7 months

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Catanzaro, Calabria, Italy

This ancient town which rises on a rock is the capital of the Calabria region. It was founded in 9th century by the Byzantines and was built over three hills in order to protect the town from the Saracen attacks arriving from the lonian sea.

At the beginning of the tenth century (c. 903), the city of Catanzaro was occupied by the Muslim Saracens, who founded an emirate and took the Arab name of قطنصار - Qatanşār.

An Arab presence is evidenced by findings at an eighth-century necropolis which had items with Arabic inscriptions. Around the year 1050, Catanzaro rebelled against Saracen dominance and returned to a brief period of Byzantine control.

Under the Byzantine dominion, between the end of the 9th and the beginning of the 10th century, Calabria was one was one the first places in Italy to introduce the breeding of the silkworm in the 11th century.

According to French historian André Guillou, mulberry trees for the production of raw silk were introduced to Calabria by the Byzantines at the end of the 9th century. Mulberry leaves are the only leaves that silkworms eat.

Around 1050, the theme of Calabria had cultivated 24,000, mulberry trees for their foliage, with growth still ongoing.

The peasants of the countryside around the city produced the raw silk, which was then woven in the silk workshops of Catanzaro. A large part of the population was involved in this business, and the silk of Catanzaro supplied almost all of Europe.

The silk was sold in a large market fair in the port of Reggio Calabria, to Spanish, Venetians, Genovese and Dutch merchants.

Today, three young friends have come together to bring local traditions back to the fore. In 2014 they decided to build their future in San Floro, a tiny village of 600 inhabitants near the city of Catanzaro and restore the traditional mulberry tree planting and cultivation needed for the rearing of silkworms. Historically, San Floro was famous for a very significant production of raw silk in the 17th century, though this heritage had been completely lost in modern times.

The only surviving elements of this rich legacy were the 3,000 abandoned mulberry trees and the memory of the elderly villagers. Miriam and her friends brought back the production of silk, rewinding the threads of history and travelling across the world to exchange best practices with silk institutes in Thailand, India, Switzerland, and France.

As part of its development, they trained people interested in their new, sustainable production model and also brought thousands of tourists from all over the world to visit their farm (Nido di Seta) to experience how silk is produced first-hand.

Catanzaro is a windy city due to its altitude and position between two seas. In fact, there is only 30 km separating the Ionian Sea from the Tyrrhenian Sea and Catanzaro is wide open to the constant strong breezes from the Ionian Sea and the Sila mountains.

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bonerot19 · 2 months

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u mentioned about mr singh being representation for the indian population in ur fic! could u tell me more about him? i’d love to know, as an indian person myself :3

hi! thanks for asking!

as a white person, I like to look up the demographics of the area I'm writing about and making OC's for (in the case of fictional gotham I looked up new jersey) bc I think we (white people) have a bad habit, a laziness, of just defaulting to making everyone white

so, partially, that's where Mr. Singh came about, because, as that post said, new jersey is often called 'little India'. he was also inspired a bit by my high school best friend's dad, an Indian man who moved to the US with his young family and who was always very kind to me. Mrs. Singh is very very very vaguely based on that same friend's mom who insisted on sending me home with food whenever I visited, because she knew we didn't have a lot of it at home and she was going to fix that in any way she could

the Singh's own a convenience store because I love the concept of the local bodega, specifically the kind you hear about in NYC, where the bodega/corner store guys are pillars of their community. where I live, a lot of the convenience stores are owned by Indian immigrants and so Mr. Singh was also inspired by the guy who owns the store next door to a place I used to live. he was the best, always chatted with you, remembered you, knew your favorite stuff and really cared about his community. I'd go in for a coffee and end up staying and talking for fifteen minutes about us both being immigrants to Canada.

all of this to say, I wanted a character that was a happily involved in his community, someone that would take on a familial role with Jason. I looked up demographics so I didn't just slap a white guy into a role, and when I saw that new jersey is called little India I thought of my friend's dad, and then I thought of my beloved convenience door guy and our mutual sadness, when I moved away. so Mr. Singh and his family are a bit of an homage to those guys, who had a positive impact on my life bc they gave a shit

#oops thanks for coming to my tedtalk #I just really like mr singh #I am emotionally attached to him now #my fic!!#ask #lesbianbootheng

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mangoshorthand · 8 months

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Arrow of Time: Chapter 5 [Five Hargreeves/ F Reader]

(Hard Feelings Part 5)

SUMMARY: When the mother of all teenage tantrums causes time itself to fracture, Five has to travel back to 1831 to repair the damage. But will he be able to cope with what he finds there?

Chapter 6 >> << Back to Chapter 4

A new face and and old one.

Chapter 5: Sir Lewis Danforth

As always after the ladies withdraw, the men stay at the dining table to enjoy a drink. It’s a particularly unusual dining room, and the owner of the house at Lafayette Place does as much as possible to show it off to his guests, although they almost always leave it feeling slightly bemused.

The room is dominated by an immense crystal chandelier overhanging the dining table. It hangs by brass chains from a gold-leafed peacock in flight affixed to the ceiling. The body of the immense light-fixture takes the form of a lotus flower in full bloom off which sparkling cut-crystal festoons hang, catching the light attractively.

The rest of the room is equally striking in a way that, if not quite offensive to the eye, is at least highly bewildering: the jade-colored velvet curtains, (held back by gilded snakes wrapped around them), the painted walls adorned with marble pilasters and arched alcoves…it’s as if somebody who once heard the interior of the taj mahal inaccurately described decided to try recreating it in 1830’s Manhattan.

At the head of the long dining table, Sir Lewis Danforth sits splayed in the high-backed mahogany chair, a cigar in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other. Rather like his dining room, Sir Lewis has a look of opulent anatopism about him. Unknowingly, he is around thirty years ahead of his time in wearing a smoking jacket, but his descendants would be unlikely to choose a silk Sherwani to serve as one. His broad, slightly flabby face is currently ruddy with the drink, and he laughs along amiably enough with the other men.

Mr Wilson, a mousy lawyer at the other end of the table, (largely invited for the sake of his much more fashionable wife), ventures a compliment:

“I admired the food today. Most unusual. Quite the culinary experience.”

Sir Lewis smiled with satisfaction. It seemed Wilson had his uses after all. He was desperate to show off a particularly unusual acquisition and Wilson had given him the perfect opening to do so.

“I have not visited the Indian subcontinent myself,” continued Wilson, “but my good friend, Sir Henry Lytton has, and the food we sampled today seemed quite authentic to the flavors he described. Do you keep a Hindoostanne cook?”

“Lord no,” Sir Lewis chortled, “though not for lack of trying. Lady Anne won’t have anybody browner than a pail of milk on the household staff. She nurses unfortunate prejudices, I'm sorry to say.” he swilled down another swallow of liquor, cleared his throat and continued, “No, I had quite the remarkable little find. Ring the bell for me, won’t you, Smyth?”

The visitor at the other end of the table crossed to the bells to summon a servant. When the footman arrived, he was instructed to fetch the cook.

“Now just you wait here, gentleman, and tell me what you think of my special cook. Spent a year on the subcontinent at nineteen years old: India, Ceylon, Bengal and came back with capital knowledge of curries, spice blends, oriental herbs: all you could want.”

“Remarkable. His name, Sir Lewis?” asked Smyth, retaking his seat at the table.

Another chortle rumbled from Danforth as if traveling up his body from his toes, wobbling in his belly before bubbling out of his mouth.

“ Her name, Smyth.”

“A woman?”

“Precisely! And that’s the best part- she commands less of a wage than a man and she provides other… compensations , if you take my meaning.”

Other men around the table joined him in his lascivious chuckle.

“I’ve had her for nearly a year now and I’m perfectly satisfied with her. Hargreeves, she’s called: Mrs Hargreeves. No relation, I hope,” he looks laughingly at one of his guests and then tilts his head as if suddenly struck by his appearance:

“That’s a curious eye-piece you have there, Reginald. A single spectacle?”

“It's called a monocle,” said Hargreeves, shortly, adjusting it slightly, "my own design.”

“And an excellent piece it is too,” said Sir Lewis, “I say, you’ve visited the subcontinent: what do you think of my Mrs Hargreeves’ work?”

“Quite authentic,” he said, simply, “I should have guessed she wasn’t a native but she is, nevertheless, extremely capable.”

To go upstairs to the dining room, it's necessary to wash and change into a clean apron and cap. Why you couldn’t simply take off the apron was still a mystery to you. So many social conventions seemed bizarre, but blending in and keeping in your employers’ good graces was a matter of necessity. Your wages provided you with what felt like your only chance of getting home. Posing as the wife of a missing and presumed dead husband had been your only claim to respectability in this world.Sir Lewis found you on the street one night and assumed you were a prostitute. By then, you had managed to scrape enough money together to buy a cheap dress but not enough to afford room and board any longer.

After you’d refused his offer of payment for your ‘company’, he’d taken pity on you and offered you a meal. From there, conversation had flowed; your tale of woe had appealed to romantic ideas he had held as a very young man and your way of conducting yourself gave a ring of truth to what you told him.

He also mentioned in passing his interest in the Indian subcontinent and you’d leapt upon the commonality: describing the dishes you enjoyed cooking at home and what you knew of the geographical and cultural influences on each region’s cuisine, embellishing your knowledge with well-placed inventions. He’d been easily impressed: it soon became clear that he actually knew very little about the area.

Lady Danforth, however, had been less easy to impress. Although living in New York, she ran the household as if she still lived in England, underlining Sir Lewis’s aristocratic roots as much as possible as an attempted claim to prominence in this alien world.

You knew your presence was a constant annoyance to her. Although the domestic arrangements were her domain, Sir Lewis had imposed you upon her, insisting that she hire you after he had sampled a simple curry you cooked at his request. You’d tried to ingratiate yourself with her but with no luck. You could hardly blame her: like most women of this era, she accepted her husband’s dalliances as a matter of course. She could have probably turned a blind eye were he pursuing a buxom young maidservant, but to have him hankering after a middle-aged cook only a year or two younger than herself was an insult she couldn’t be expected to ignore.

The injustice of this rankles: while you've successfully avoided Lewis's sexual overtures, the entire world (including himself) behaves as if you're actually sleeping together.

The powerlessness is (and has long been) excruciating. For the first few days, you'd expected Five every moment, only leaving the vicinity of alley you arrived in briefly to find the site where the academy buildings would stand, several decades from now. You’d asked shopkeepers to convey a message to any frantic man who arrived but soon necessity had driven you to find this work. It wasn’t the nearest to where you arrived but trying to alert Five to your whereabouts cost money. Five knew what Viktor had done in Dallas when in a similar situation and trying to trace his family. Surely he’d check the newspapers?

That he’d do everything in his power to come was certain. That he hadn’t come yet was your major worry. You missed them both with intensity that had not waned over the months. Thanks to Sir Lewis’s favor, you were treated as an upper servant and this meant having your own small room in the basement servants’ quarters. Although you were suspicious of his reasons for this maneuver, (the hope of a private spot in which to visit you after dark), you hadn’t resisted it: the seclusion of your bedroom allowed you the space you needed to cry yourself to sleep virtually every night. Aoife’s smile and the memory of Five’s caresses were a toxic sustenance in your lonely existence: they formed the anchor to your real life. Too bad if that anchor’s prongs dragged and dug in your gut as if searching for purchase in a too-soft seabed.

Standing outside the drawing room now, listening to their manly, drink-addled chuckles, you take a deep breath and knock.

“Come.”

You open the door, advance a little way into the room and bob a curtsey to the gentlemen still around the table.

“Come in, Mrs Hargreeves. Mr Wilson here was just complimenting our good table.”

“Thank you, sir.” you nod demurely first at Sir Lewis and then at Mr Wilson.

“Very impressive indeed.” said one of the guests in another, clipped British accent. “Under whom did you study?”

The face of the man makes your stomach drop. You’ve seen that face, though older, in portraits and photographs around the Academy. The monocle firmly in place, the mustache, the goatee. Hair fuller and darker than you’d ever seen it pictured. As if to confirm your impossible identification, Sir Lewis says,

“Oh Reginald, you’ve and your odd ‘monocle’ seem to have scared my Mrs Hargreeves. I hope you don’t do the same to your own Mrs Hargreeves?”

He puts a flabby arm around your waist and slaps your hip bracingly and he chortles, pulling you a little closer towards him. As you regain your balance, you answer the alien in a skinsuit who is your father-in-law, for now pushing aside the fact that he’s appearing here nearly one hundred years earlier than any of his children estimated.

“Um…nobody in particular. I traveled and picked up what I could from local women…sir.”

Reginald eyed you with what your paranoid mind was convinced was suspicion as Sir Lewis began to rub firm circles into your hip. You extricated yourself smartly but politely to stand beside the intricately-carved mantle. He chuckled low in his throat. This, in his eyes, was you ‘playing hard to get’.

“You have talent,” Sir Reginald stated, taking a sip of his drink.

“You most certainly do,” concurred another guest.

“But this is a most extraordinary story,” Hargreeves said, speaking over him, “under what circumstances does a nineteen-year-old born and bred American female have the opportunity to explore the Indian subcontinent?”

“Extraordinary circumstances, sir,” you smile, unable to keep the nervous laugh out of your voice. Sir Lewis joins you, chuckling indulgently.

How to tell him or Hargreeves that your knowledge actually comes from cookbooks, youtube and living in a multicultural future? When it becomes clear that this won’t satisfy him, you tell the already-concocted lie:

“My father worked for a spice trader. When my mother died, he sent for me and I spent a year with him until he could secure a position in New York.”

“Hm.” by his tone, you can’t tell whether the sound expresses approval or doubt.

You bob another curtsey and cast a look at Sir Lewis in a silent appeal to be excused.

He nodded, mustache twitching with his grin.

“Thank you, Mrs Hargreeves. You may go.”

The other servants are starting to talk.

As if it wasn’t bad enough that you were strange, made the servants quarters smell of pervasive, unfamiliar spices and seemingly came out of nowhere, you’re also clearly having an immoral relationship with the master. That private bedroom, those evening visits to his study. (“We might not have much schooling”, said the ladies’ maid to the housemaid, “but we weren’t born yesterday”)

When the butler stumps his way ill-naturedly back into the kitchen, he looks to you with gruff annoyance.

“We ought to give you your own bell. Master wants you in his study again.”

You try to conceal a sigh, marking the page in your book.

“Thank you, Mr Hill.”

“Women of your age should know better than to read novels, Mrs Hargreeves. It’ll give you funny ideas.”

“We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

He doesn’t return your smile.

You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help but like Sir Lewis Danforth. It’s like being pursued by a horny old bulldog with a penchant for belly rubs. He always accepts your rebuffs with a good grace, perhaps even happier than if you’d given in. Yes, he can get a little handsy, but the thrill of the chase is the only thrill he really wants, even if he can’t admit that to himself. If only all sex-pests were as harmless. You’d learned quickly that 21st century feminist ideals were virtually useless here. It wasn’t a pleasant discovery but it had been a realization that helped you play the part you needed to play. It was no worse than keeping a smile on your face while being talked over in a sales meeting.

“You’re quite the saucy little vixen, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry sir?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, woman,” he said, waving an admonitory finger in your direction, eyes twinkling, “sit down, have a brandy.”

Before you arrived, you’d known little about this period of history, but it hadn’t taken you too long to realize that a sixty-five-year-old knight drinking in his study with his cook was not considered appropriate. These interviews probably aren’t wise but these times with Sir Lewis offer a rare opportunity to be yourself. This, you know, is why he thinks he has a chance of late-night rendezvous in your bedroom but it’s hard to let go of a small source of fun. He’s one of the few people who’s kind to you in this new life and, even more unusually, honest about his intentions.

Now, he wears a silk turban, a nightshirt and pajama pants: in this, like his improvised smoking jacket, he is an early-adopter. In all things, he takes his inspiration from India…or from the strange simulacra of vaguely eastern ideas he’s invented in his imagination. In your time, his cultural appropriation would be enough to get him canceled several times over: in his own time, he’s considered an eccentric sophisticate.

“So,” he says, handing you a glass and raising his to you, “it wasn’t enough for you to bewitch me, you’ve bewitched Sir Reginald Hargreeves too. Isn’t one man enough for you?”

You roll your eyes, letting your guard down,

“My husband is more than enough.”

He harumphs good-naturedly.

“Admirable sentiment, I’m sure. It’s in woman’s nature to be constant and it’s quite to your credit that your feelings are so loyal. But, if your husband lives, (and, for your sake, I hope he does), I can assure you he won’t have such fine feelings. He’ll be taking every opportunity to enter into amorous congress with a game lass. It’s quite normal for a red-blooded fellow. I'm afraid we can’t help ourselves.”

“We’ll agree to disagree there,” you say, swilling the brandy around your glass.

“Hmph. Well, he stumbled upon a gem when he snagged you as his bride. Damn, him. To his good health and safe return.”

He raises his glass in grudging tribute to Five before continuing.

“As I was saying, Sir Reginald has become an unlikely ally to me, even as he tries to court you himself.”

“You’ll need more than Sir Reginald Hargreeves on your side, Lewis. And neither of you will be courting me.”

“That’s the spirit I like,” he rumbled, smiling at your informal use of his Christian name, “but I’ve broken many a wilder mare than you, believe me. But that’s by the by: humor me and take a look at this.”

You’re unsure you believe that he’s broken any ‘wild mares’ in his time, but you take the piece of paper he offers you without comment. He ensures he brushes your hand with his as he transfers it to you.

It was a richly printed invitation inviting him to a party at Reginald Hargreeves' house in only a few days. At the bottom, in a neat, compact hand was clearly a handwritten addition:

Bring that intriguing cook of yours and tell her I'd like to claim her hand in the French waltz.

You look back up at him, a creeping sensation in your stomach. Because you can think of nothing else to say for the moment, you say:

“I don’t know the waltz.”

“I’ll teach you!” he said, clearly overjoyed at the idea of putting his hands on you.

You stare down at the invitation, taking a rather large swallow of brandy in order to give yourself time to think. You knew that trusting Reginald Hargreeves, especially when it came to maintaining timelines, was simply not an option. It was imperative that he learn nothing about who you are and why you’re here. You should refuse, you should stay as far away from him as possible…

But…

If Five’s anywhere in this time, he will sure as hell be paying close attention to anything his father does. Your other efforts have done nothing so far…so why not try a different approach?

“What about Lady Danforth?”

“That’s the best part, my dear. Staying with her niece. She won’t be home until the following afternoon. What Annie doesn’t know won’t hurt her, by God. And to stop tongues a-wagging, I’ll introduce you as my cousin.”

He smiles proudly at his own ingenuity.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Don’t concern yourself, my dear. I know you ladies can be very particular in matters of dress but will you allow me to select something suitable?”

You hesitate slightly. Knowing Sir Lewis, you’ll probably be turning up to this thing in the 19th century equivalent of stockings, suspenders and titty tassels.

“As long as you promise to keep it decent,” you say, warningly.

“Upon my honor,” he said, raising his right palm as if swearing on a bible, “it’s what’s underneath that counts, eh?”

You sigh again and down the rest of your brandy in one: sealing your decision.

“Then sure. I’ll go.”

After a lesson in the French waltz in which you had to readjust Sir Lewis’s hands several times, you make your way stealthily back to the servants’ quarters. As always, he’d signed off your private audience with him with a hearty: ‘May I come to you tonight, my dear?’ which you, as always, denied him. Expecting nothing else, he’d waved you off genially.

As you avoid the creaky floorboards outside Lady Danforth’s sitting room, you wish heartily that you could blink back to your room. Just as you think you’ve gotten away with it, her cold voice issues from within.

“Mrs Hargreeves?”

You wince and turn around, reluctantly entering the sitting room and bobbing a curtsey to the mistress of the household.

“Yes, Lady Danforth?”

You try to look innocent as she surveys you suspiciously from under her frilled cap. She’s a beautiful woman: what people of this time would call ‘handsome’. About fifteen years younger than Sir Lewis and five years older than you. Her long nose and hard expression added to her formidable demeanor. Her hair is an attractive graying blonde and her eyes a shrewd hazel.

“What are you doing in this part of the house?”

“I was summoned to the master’s study,” you say. Then, to try and ingratiate yourself while forming an alibi, “he was requesting some dishes for your absence next week but I suggested to him that they should be subject to your approval, given that you know the household matters best.”

“You presumed to tell Sir Lewis what was and wasn’t his jurisdiction in his own house?”

“No ma’am.” you say, having accidentally dug yourself further into her bad graces. The old-timey language is easy, the body language is easy, but your understanding of this era’s social dynamics is still constantly wavering. It seems like you can barely breathe without mortally offending someone.

“You were rather a long time,” she says, delicately, “for one discussing meals.”

You waver slightly, needing to come up with a convincing lie on the spot,

“Sorry ma’am. Sir Lewis had questions about my time in Bombay.”

She stares at you in silence for a while, sitting perfectly upright on the sofa, hands and feet primly together. You wet your lips briefly. In the last year, you’ve had to lie constantly; the creativity gets easier but holding your nerve never does.

When she speaks again, she moves her hand to stroke a finger gently across the arm of the damask sofa.

“Do you have children, Mrs Hargreeves.”

“Yes Ma’am. One daughter.”

Lady Danforth nodded contemplatively, “I have a daughter too. Married just over a year ago to a Baronet in England.”

You nod, smiling unsurely, “All the servants speak fondly of Miss Catherine.”

“Hm,” she said, tilting her head in order to look down her nose at you, “my daughter had a housekeeper. A widow, Mrs Fredericks. Or not a widow, as it turned out. She was dismissed recently. It was discovered that she was, in fact, still Miss Fredericks, although she had a grown son. Not only this, she had been stealing from her employer.”

“Oh.” you say, dumbly.

“Can you produce a marriage certificate, Mrs Hargreeves?”

Shit.

“No ma’am. My husband had it about him when he went missing.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Mrs Hargreeves. How inconvenient for a woman in your position.”

“Yes,” you all but whisper.

“But surely church records are available?”

“Um…no.”

She tilts her head in mock confusion and you gabble out the latest twist in a long and convoluted series of lies.

“The church we were married in burned down. The marriage records were lost with it.”

“Another inconvenience,” she says, raising her eyebrows, enjoying the seconds she leaves you hanging, “very well, you may go.”

You waver for a second, “ma’am?”

“You may go.” she repeats.

It’s almost second nature to curtsey now as you leave the room.

You don’t fall asleep for a long time that night. Your family seems closer than ever tonight, just tantalizingly out of reach. Your complex, intelligent and determined little girl and your Russian nesting-doll of a husband. The adult with a septuagenarian within and, at the deepest level of his precious heart, a scared, neglected little boy.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88, @nevillescomslut

On to Chapter 6 >> Masterpost

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endlessly-cursed · 4 months

Text

Next Gen- Yasemin Battersea-Parsons

“𝑰𝒇 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒕.”

Name: Yasemin Neeru Battersea Parsons

Nicknames: Yas

Birthdate: 16th of December 2004

Zodiac Sign: Saggitarius (i think??)

Personality Type (MBTI): TBD

Blood Status: Pureblood

Nationality: Turkish-Indian-Irish

Physical Appearance

Hair: Black, curly

Eyes: Black

Height: 1.57m

Weight: 64kg

Body Type: Medium-size

Skin Tone: Dark brown

Distinguishing Marks (scars, birthmarks, etc.): One birthmark on her neck

Background

Hometowns

Kolkata, India- The rich and ancient city was the place of birth for Yasemin, and where she spent much of her winter in the Bengali equivalent of Christmas and even participated in religious rites, despite following the Muslim religion more.

Antakya, Turkey- Her other hometown, she lived in a rustic yet wealthy house with her grandmother, where she spent many summers and even visited many mosques and started on her Muslim faith

Dublin, Ireland- Her main residence, living outside the center, she loved how carefree and busy they were and many of her friends lived near, and her formative years were spent there

Family

Mother: Esmanur Zeynep Battersea

The only living Battersea that directly descended from Simon by then, she was raised as a hanimsultan and was treated like Middle-Eastern royalty despite being long gone. She did not expect to have children after Shreya, and was delighted to have one more child. Despite being fond of Yasemin, her favouritism was never noticed by her daughters

Father: Mahmoud Ismail Parsons

A Bengali businessman, he married Esmanur to enforce his monopoly on the industry and expand his growing empire. When Esmanur was pregnant again, he was surprised and worried, because his wife have had fertility problems years prior and didn't want to risk her life. Nevertheless, Yasemin was born healthy and without much fuss, and he spoiled her

Older sister: Shreya Humashah Battersea Parsons

Although she was first angry at Yasemin's birth, the moment she held her, she knew she loved her. Shreya loved to take care of her and talk about girl stuff, going shopping and having silly moments. Shreya was like a second mother and role model to Yasemin and are very close, even after Shreya marries Kevin Farrell and forms her family with him

Distant cousin: Luke Battersea

A bit closer in age, despite him being prickly and reserved, Yasemin approached him slowly, allowing him to come to her, actively listening to whatever he talked about and giving surprisingly helpful advice and thoughtful gestures, such as baking him his favourite cake for his birthday or when he had a bad day, or ensure that the cook cooks his comfort food once a week, and include him in the family trips

Hogwarts

House: Hufflepuff

Best Class: Herbology

Worst Class: Potions

Boggart: Everybody diminishes her efforts, throwing them and shouting at her that she'll never be enough

Riddikulus: The papers get up and start dancing cha-cha-cha

Patronus: A hare

Patronus Memory: Dancing in the rain when she was eight with her father and Shreya as her mother film

Mirror of Erised: (before turning 19) Achieving peace and stability in her hometowns (after turning 20) having stability, peace and a family with Scott by her side

Amortentia (what she smells like): Victoria's Secret perfume 'shimmer', strawberry bubblegum, henna

Amortentia (what she smells): Ice, cologne, something related to Scott

Career

11-18: Hogwarts student

21-35: Philantropist

36-65: President of the Battersea company

Personality & Attitude

Priorities: Making some good in the world, her family's wellbeing

Strengths: Kind, empathetic, insightful, caring and generous

Weaknesses: Naive, clueless, innocent during her adolescence, way too trusting, a people pleaser and can't say anything bad about anyone

Stressed: During social gatherings and during exams, feeling stupid all the time

Calm/Comforted: Watching her comfort show (FRIENDS), spending time with Shreya, in her bed

Favorites

Colors: PINK, burgundy red, navy blue and lilac

Weather: Sunny

Hobbies: Reading, knitting, baking and creating skincare and makeup routines

Fashion: Yasemin is far more fashionable than her sister Shreya, often wearing heels and short skirts and tops, all in the palette of pink, black and white. She also has curly hair and has a rigorous routine that she always asks not to be interrupted when performing it

Relationships

Significant Other/Love Interest: Scott Morris ( @potionboy3 )

Both friends from the moment they met, unlike her peers, Scott seemed to get her, and Yasemin always felt seen with him. What she didn't know is that Scott had a huge crush on her. A crush that everybody save her seemed to notice. For years, he dropped subtle hints here and there, but the clueless Yasemin didn't seem to see it.

Until, on a party, after sharing a meaningful moment, Scott surprised Yasemin by kissing her and declaring his feelings for her. What was more surprising to Yasemin is that she felt the same. Even though Yasemin was a year ahead of Scott, they saw each other often and even gave him the keys to her house once they became serious.

[MORE TBA]

Friends: Noor Verma Dhendron ( @legilimenace )

Even though they were different, Noor and Yasemin got along and suprisingly complimented one another. Shreya soon befriended Mansi, Noor's sister, and became inseparable, becoming almost members of the family

Mia Morris ( @gaygryffindorgal )

Scott's older sister, Yasemin liked her from the beginning and she was key in setting her up with her brother

[MORE TBA]

Jude Cozens ( @unfortunate-arrow )

Both with similar natures, she met him through Scott and also reminded her of Luke. She was shocked when she learned that he and Noor started dating

Yasemin is looking for friends! I'll favour those born in 2004-5! Hmu or send me an ask if you're interested!

Rivals: TBA (why would you want to antagonize this angel?!)

Trivia

She doesn't drink alcohol due to religious and personal reasons

Her drink of choice is a lime Aquarius

Always has a red velvet cake for her birthday

She hates green peas

Is surprisingly good at breakdance, salsa and dabke, and often does it in heels

Used to hate her curly hair and tried to straighten it like Shreya for most of her teens

While Shreya inherits her father's businesses, Yasemin inherits her mother's legacy

Is medium sized and was always made fun of by her parents' peers and went on crazy diets and developed body dysmorphia due to early development

Almost never went to parties because of people getting drunk and being invasive towards her

Cries easily for everything, yet can be calm in dire circusmtances

Picked up baking thanks to her therapist and often shows up to classes and gatherings with Turkish and Bengali sweets when she feels her friends are feeling down or stressed or wants to celebrate

Has the cutest and most elegant handwriting in Hogwarts (it was voted)

#hp next gen #hp next gen oc #oc: yasemin battersea parsons #mc: shreya battersea parsons #scott morris #mia morris #noor verma dhendron #battersea family #scott x yasemin #mottersea #oc profile #character sheet

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djarins-cyare · 2 months

Note

Hi, Jem! Sending you a Secret Springs postcard from beneath the stars! It's beautiful, but my time with this caravan is almost up and I must pass it along to a friend to take on a new adventure... my gut tells me the next lucky recipient is you!

Something exciting to know about this camper: it can teleport! You can take it anywhere on Earth, no worries about fuel, landing permits, which side of the road you'll have to drive on, whether it will fit into a parking space in a city, etc. — we're talking about a magic vehicle here!

Assuming our lovely Mayor El is able to find a replacement childminder for all those summer campers (I'll ready up the brib—I mean, I'll speak to her very respectfully and offer to help out in his stead), where do you think you might like to take Din to see and why?

🌸 M @toomanytookas

Hi M! Thanks for the postcard , and sorry it’s taken me — holy crap — almost 3 weeks to respond 😭 But my tardy reply is because I’ve been spending a wonderful few weeks with Din in the magical teleporting caravan!

Since Din isn’t from Earth, and since our camper could actually teleport, he asked me to take him to places unique to Earth so he could experience the best of the planet. It was a tall order given we’re a planet of diverse cultures and climes, but after much discussion, we took the magical teleporting caravan to see the Seven Wonders of the World!

We started with Petra in Jordan, and after I told him it was in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, we ended up watching it that evening.

Then we visited the Great Wall of China, but Din didn’t get my jokes about Pero Tovar, so that night’s movie was The Great Wall (he liked the character!).

On to the Colosseum in Italy we went, and we watched Gladiator that evening (I showed him the trailer for the second movie and he’s keen to see it!).

Next was Chichén Itzá in Mexico, and we had a romantic night in watching Against All Odds (abandoned it halfway through following a *ahem* particular scene, as we had other things on our minds 😏).

We then followed that up with a trip to Machu Picchu in Peru, and later experienced some cinematic history by watching The Secret of the Incas. The llama did not join us.

After that, we went to the Taj Mahal in India, and Din was fascinated why someone would build such a lavish mausoleum, so we watched Taj Mahal: An Eternal Love Story, and held hands all the way through 🥹.

Our last stop was the most modern Wonder, Christ the Redeemer in Brazil, and by this point I was running out of films featuring the Wonders, so we ended our trip with some Disney watching Rio, which features the famous monument but is also a fitting tribute to the urge to discover the world 💖

All in all, we had a fantastic time! Thanks for sending the magical camper our way, and I hope you had an equally amazing vacation in it! ✨

#where in the world is din djarin #yes that’s really me in the pics #but i’m not counting it as a face reveal #bc they’re all from over 10 years ago #i’m mildly uncomfortable with this level of ‘pretend’#but believe me #this is not indicative of a concerning withdrawal from reality #i have a life i swear 😭#secretsprings #ppcu #shenanigans #postcard #asked and answered #pedro pascal fandom #din djarin #the mandalorian #whistling birds will queue well

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misiahasahardname · 10 months

Note

Wait Raj too? Ripper and Raj brothers?? 👀

yeah!! i wrote a bunch of stuff for a nowen family au during ict

sorry if it’s incomprehensible. ya girl-type-creature is incapable of forming coherent sentences

the original total drama took place in 1997 instead of 2007 to make noah and owen’s ages as parents make sense

raj is older than ripper, which is surprising for people. ripper and raj are also twins, which is even more surprising for people!

raj and ripper’s full names are ‘rajesh könig-fraser’ and ‘rhynnfrew könig-fraser’

i headcanon ripper to be welsh, so for that to still be true in the au, owen is of welsh decendance. this means that raj and ripper are part german, part indian, part canadian and part welsh! it’s a very rich cultural background.

raj and ripper regularly speak german or hindi in the house which confuses owen/makes him feel left out since he can only speak english

noah tries to comfort him by saying that learning a language when you’re not born speaking it can be hard, and that owen can speak a bit of welsh while noah can’t. this half-works

noah tried to prevent the boys from discovering what total drama was because they are embarrassed about their past. unfortunately, wayne got in the way of this (big total drama fan - is the reason the brothers auditioned)

owen has a part time job at an ice-cream parlour, and noah teaches languages and psychology at raj and ripper’s highschool.

raj and ripper are Little Dipshits ™️ and decided to take german as their language in school for an easy A, but ended up with noah as their teacher and, as the loving mother they are, they started the school year by calling the two out in front of their entire class.

wayne is the family’s neighbour. he became raj’s best friend immediately, and would constantly be invited over for playdates. ripper became his friend by association.

noah needs glasses for reading. when ripper is mad at them, he will hide those glasses and scatter clues around the house with writing purposefully made tiny and messy to make things harder.

owen sparked raj’s love for hockey. he regularly takes him to see games and picks him up after practice (his shift ends at around the same time raj’s training sessions end)

the family is visited by owen’s parents and brothers very often. they’re always there to come to babysit the boys. noah’s family (the ones in other continents and who live in canada) live far away. they go to their closest family during shorter school holidays, extended family in germany for christmas, and extended family in india in the summer. (they still get to see noah’s closest family there since they all go to those places when noah does anyways)

sometimes, eva and izzy just. randomly break into the home without any warning. this always frightens noah and owen, but ripper and raj are always excited to see them. ripper loves izzy because of her unpredictable nature and the fact she allows him to do stupid and dangerous stuff, and raj loves eva because she’s super sporty and a very worth competitor. they also give awesome birthday gifts.

total drama episodes air the week after they’re filmed. not necessarily for the au, just a headcanon of mine.

owen and noah flipped their shit when ripper and axel kissed.

raj and ripper love to engage in eachother’s shenanigans, but they also love to scrap, insult and pretend they don’t know eachother. they are eachother’s number one supporters and number one haters.

april fool’s day gets very dangerous in the könig-fraser household………

raj and ripper have always shared a room. ripper is absolutely pissed that he’s not allowed to sleep on the top bunk.

noah and owen are really used to being called into school (or the hospital) because of their sons. neither of them know how to do anything without getting in some sort of trouble.

#i will never send screenshots of what i write in google docs. too afraid of being bullied for using comic sans #btw guys please will you hear me out on indian/german noah. please #td noah #to owen #td ripper #td raj #nowen #total drama #td #mia try not to write pages upon pages of total drama headcanons/aus during computing/ict challenge (impossible)#kinda proud of the autism beth headcanons i made up. not sharing those rn though #ask answered!

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hobiebrownismygod · 11 months

Text

Pavitr Prabhakar x Indian!Reader (Platonic)

Got sick of there being no Indian!Reader fics with my favorite ATSV characters so I wrote one :D

Even though it says "Indian!Reader", anyone can read it and not really pay attention to the race of the reader. It doesn't really matter and since the fic doesn't have a plot, it won't disturb your understanding of the fic!

Summary: Meeting Pav and getting to explore Mumbattan with him! Reader feeling a little disconnected from their culture, but having a blast after visiting Mumbattan with him.

TW: Reader is established to be a spider person, Fluff, Not much of a plot just wanted to write something cute for my desi readers!

____________________________________________________________

You were walking through Spider Society HQ, a bit tired from the sleepless night you had and hoping to find some kind of distraction from the responsibilities of being a Spiderperson. Not really paying attention to your surroundings, you began to drift into a bit of a trance, walking along the path aimlessly, nodding at the Peters and Mjs who waved at you but lost in your thoughts as you tried to process the events of last night. Fighting your universe's version of the Sinister Six, coming back home with cuts and bruises, spending the night trying to clean them and cover them so your friends and family wouldn't see your wounds the next morning, being a Spider-person was difficult to handle. You just wished you had a distraction, something you could do, somewhere you could go to calm down and destimulate. HQ was nice and all, but it was so formal, what with the training and conditioning centers, and the boring food court.

"Arre, watch out!"

You felt a body collide with yours, sending the two of you stumbling backwards and crashing into a wall. "What the-"

"Oh no, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

You looked over woozily to see the boy who'd crashed into you, wearing his decorated Spider-suit, the colors practically blinding you as he approached and tried to give you a hand to help you get up. You took his hand, trying to shake the dizzy feeling from your head before you spoke. "Its alright. How did you even-"

The boy eagerly spoke before you could finish, his tone full of excitement. "Its my first day here, and I was trying take a self-tour of the HQ, but I think I was going too fast" He said, his voice and expression seeming slightly sheepish. "I'm Spider-man! And you?"

"Spider-woman. But you don't have to call me that. My name's Y/N."

"I'm Pavitr! But most call me Pav."

"Hey Pav. Where're you from?"

"Earth-50101! At least thats what Miguel told me. For us, its just Mumbattan!"

"Mumbattan?" The place sounded oddly familiar, as if you'd heard of it before. Wait..."Do you mean Mumbai?", you asked, a smile spreading across your face.

"I don't know what Mumbai is, but sure!"

"Oh man, its been forever since I've been to Mumbai! Its been forever since I've been to...well...India in general."

"Oh?" He sounded like he was thinking something over. "Well, would you like to see your Mumbai? Or a version of it at least?"

"What do you mean?" You asked, a little confused.

"Do you want to come to Mumbattan? You have a watch, right?" Pav looked down at your wrist excitedly, seeming happy to have made a friend at the Spider Society so quickly.

"Mumbattan huh? Well...uh..." You had to mull it over. I don't have anything else to do...besides I haven't had pani puri in so long...You should to yourself, the memories of street food in India flooding back to you. Oh how you missed the place. "I'm down."

About an hour later, you and Pav were swinging through Mumbattan, with him showing off the whole city to you, pointing out the different attractions, the nicer temples, and even his own favorites, like small shops and stalls which he said he often bought from.

"And over there, they have the best chaat in the whole of Mumbattan!"

You whipped your head to the side at the mention of chaat, the memory of the delicious snack coming back to you as the aroma made its way toward where you two were sitting. "Can we get some?"

Pav nodded his head and led you closer to the stall, still staying on the roofs of the buildings, swinging above the heads of the crowds in the area. There were more than a couple stalls, probably anywhere from 20 to 50 of them, the sights and smells practically flooding your senses. "Chaat or vada pav?"

"both. Both is good."

He laughed at your response and motioned for you to wait there while he grabbed some. You took the few minutes to take in the rest of the sight. Mumbattan was beautiful. Yes, it was crowded, but the people were just a part of its charm! There were miniature temples everywhere, with women in saris and men in dhotis entering and exiting them. It reminded you a lot of home, where you family was from. I mean, it technically was your home...just a much more futuristic version of it. But then of course, some things never change. The temples, the street food, the traffic, it was all practically the same.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Pav reappeared next to you, holding a paper plate with two different chaats in it. Papdi and samosa. Nice. He also brought vada pav, which he immediately started snacking on. "So...Indian Spider-man huh? Never thought I'd see the day"

"you're Indian too, correct?"

"eh, its not the same. You're like Indian Indian, I haven't even BEEN to India in ages."

"Well now you have, haven't you?" He said with a smile, nudging your shoulder. Damn this guy was optimistic. It was refreshing.

You chuckled at this. "Thanks for the food"

"Anytime! If you ever visit again, I'll bring you to even more stalls next time. We can get pani puri too!"

"Sounds perfect."

"Does this mean we're friends now?"

"Do you wanna be?"

"Yeah."

"Then we're friends. Us desi's gotta stick together, right?"

A/N

I didn't really know how to end it, so I kind of gave it a crappy ending, sorry for that. This fic didn't really have much of a plot, but I just really wanted to write something that was Indian/Desi reader related because despite there being a whole Indian spider-man, there's like zero fics where he encounters an Indian reader or an Indian oc! Hopefully this was readable and any and all feedback is appreciated!

I love Pav so much, I just wanna hug him and be his best friend 😭

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