#Long Salwar Kameez

[samkkshopping]

Empower Your Aura: Unveiling the Ideal Look for Your Special Day At Samyakk

Introduction:

The Indian fashion scene is a vibrant tapestry, and at its very core lays the Salwar Kameez. This timeless ensemble, adored for its elegance and versatility, is more than just clothing. It’s a cultural icon, a symbol of grace, and a canvas for exquisite ladies suit design.

Samyakk.com invites you to explore the diverse world of the Salwar Kameez. Whether you seek the flowing charm of an Anarkali or a more unique fusion style, their collection caters to every whim. Discover the comfort and style of a Salwar Kameez, or find the perfect Salwar Suit for Women to suit any occasion. This blog dives into the exquisite world of Samyakk’s Salwar Kameez collections, a treasure trove waiting to unveil the perfect outfit that reflects your unique style and complements the grandeur of the event.

“Fashion is a language that transcends all barriers.” — Amitabh Bachchan (Indian Actor)

Hey folks, looking for a Salwar Kameez that’s anything but boring? Ditch the usual and dive into a whole new world of stunning designs at Samyakk.com! ✨ They’ve got something for every style and occasion, so get ready to be amazed!

The festive season calls for dazzling outfits, and Samyakk’s Salwar Kameez collection offers something for every occasion. Embrace tradition with a luxurious Anarkali for festivities or an elegant sharara for your engagement ceremony. Let loose and have fun at parties with a trendy crop top suit or a contemporary design. Samyakk doesn’t stop at style; they ensure high-quality garments and a convenient online shopping experience. Find your perfect festive look from a range of Anarkalis, Shararas, contemporary cuts, and party wear Salwar Kameez, all on Samyakk’s user-friendly website.

Dazzling in Festive Salwar Kameez and Anarkali Salwar

Festivities are a time for vibrant colors, rich embellishments, and outfits that exude joy. Samyakk’s festive Salwar Kameez collection embodies this spirit with a range of eye-catching designs, including the ever-popular Anarkali Salwar Kameez.

Anarkali Salwar Kameez: The epitome of festive elegance, the Anarkali features a flowing silhouette with a fitted bodice and a kalidaar (umbrella) skirt. Samyakk offers a variety of festive Anarkalis in rich fabrics like silks and brocades, adorned with intricate embroidery, zardozi work, or stunning mirror embellishments.

Party Perfect: Captivating Looks with Contemporary Salwar Suits and Crop Top Suits

Parties are a time for vibrancy and fun. Samyakk’s collection of party wear Salwar Kameez allows you to express your personality through bold colors, playful prints, and trendy silhouettes, including contemporary salwar suits and crop top suits.

Contemporary Salwar Suit: For a fashion-forward party look, explore Samyakk’s collection of contemporary salwar suits. These designs often feature unique cuts, asymmetrical hemlines, or bold prints, allowing you to make a statement and embrace the latest trends.

Crop Top Suit: Break away from tradition with a trendy crop top suit from Samyakk. This playful style showcases a midriff-baring top paired with a flowing skirt or palazzo pants, creating a youthful and vibrant look perfect for a night out.

Engagement Enchantment: Finding the Perfect Salwar Kameez for Your Special Day

An engagement is a momentous occasion that deserves a unique and memorable outfit. Samyakk offers a curated selection of engagement Salwar Kameez that combines elegance with a hint of personal style.

Sharara Suit: Embrace a dramatic silhouette with a stunning sharara suit from Samyakk. The voluminous sharara pants create a regal look perfect for your engagement ceremony. Samyakk offers a variety of fabrics and embellishments, allowing you to find a sharara suit that reflects your personality and complements the festive mood.

Sangeet Splendor: Dancing the Night Away in Style with Sangeet Salwar Kameez

The sangeet, a vibrant pre-wedding celebration, is a time for colorful outfits and lively performances. Samyakk’s sangeet Salwar Kameez collection allows you to move freely and express your joy with stunning style.

Anarkali Salwar Kameez or Flowy Sharara Suit: While both Anarkali Salwar Kameez and flowy sharara suits are popular choices for sangeet celebrations, they offer distinct advantages. The Anarkali’s flowing silhouette allows for graceful movement, while the sharara’s dramatic pants create a captivating look for dance performances. Samyakk offers a variety of fabrics and embellishments in both styles, allowing you to find the perfect match for your sangeet look.

“Tradition is not a barrier to progress; it is the springboard.” — Winston Churchill

Beyond the Style: You’re One-Stop Shop at Samyakk

Samyakk goes beyond just offering a stunning collection of Salwar Kameez for every occasion. Here’s what makes them your perfect shopping destination:

Variety: Find a diverse range of styles, including Anarkali Salwar Kameez, sharara suits, contemporary Salwar suits, crop top suits, and festive and party wear Salwar Kameez, to suit your taste and budget.

Quality: Samyakk prioritizes quality, ensuring each Salwar Kameez is crafted with care and attention to detail.

Convenience: Enjoy the ease of online shopping with Samyakk’s user-friendly website. Browse their extensive collection, filter by style, occasion, or color, and have your perfect Salwar Kameez delivered right to your doorstep.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

What occasions does this blog cover for Salwar Kameez? A: This blog highlights festive wear (like Anarkalis), party wear (including crop top suits and contemporary designs), engagement looks (think elegant shararas), and sangeet outfits (Anarkalis or flowy shararas).

What are some popular styles of Salwar Kameez mentioned? A: The blog dives into Anarkali Salwar Kameez, designer creations, chic straight cut suits, flowy shararas, trendy palazzos, crop top suits, and contemporary Salwar suits.

What are the benefits of shopping at Samyakk for Salwar Kameez? A: Samyakk offers a wide variety of styles, fabrics, and colors to suit your taste and budget. They prioritize high-quality garments and provide a convenient online shopping experience (Samyakk.com) with a user-friendly website. They even have a physical store in Bangalore for those who prefer in-person shopping.

Can I find Salwar Kameez for girls on Samyakk’s website? A: Yes, Samyakk offers Girls Ethnic Wear, which could include salwar kameez for young girls.

Does the blog provide any design inspiration for salwar kameez? A: Absolutely! By showcasing various styles and mentioning unique back neck designs, the blog aims to inspire readers for their own salwar kameez creations.

Conclusion

Hey readers, let’s wrap this up!!!!! We’ve explored the vibrant world of Salwar Kameez design with Samyakk. For your daughter, imagine a delightful Girls’ Ethnic Wear Anarkali, perfect for any festive occasion. Girls’ Ethnic Wear Craving a trendy update for you? Explore Samyakk’s stunning Salwar Dhoti designs, ideal for creating a show-stopping Ladies Suit.

No matter your style, Samyakk is your design inspiration hub. Head to their website, Samyakk.com, to discover the latest suit designs and unique back neck details to elevate your next latest suit designs suits. From classic silhouettes to contemporary twists, Samyakk caters to every taste.

Feeling inspired? Browse online or visit their Bangalore store to step into a world of vibrant possibilities. Find the perfect outfit or design inspiration for your next girls’ Salwar Kameez. Get stylish dresses for girls online in India effortlessly with their wide selection. And don’t forget, they offer a beautiful collection of women’s Salwar Kameez for you to explore too. The journey to your dream Salwar Kameez begins at Samyakk!

[iamblvd]

Define Your Style: Shop the Latest Fashion Trends at I Am Blvd India

Unique style with I Am Blvd India! Shop the latest fashion trends and elevate your wardrobe with our stylish collection. From chic dresses and trendy tops to versatile accessories, we offer premium quality at affordable prices. Define your look and stay ahead in fashion with I Am Blvd India. https://iamblvd.com

[diyaonlineofficial]

Beautiful Wedding Lehenga for Brides-made

Lehenga Choli is clearly one of the most beautiful, traditional, and fashionable means of outfit that one can wear in marriage, engagement, Important family functions. With the marriage season coming up, it’s time to hold and flaunt your self with stylish Lehenga choli and other traditional attire.

Diya Online (an online store) offering a plethora of ethnic wear, especially bridals Lehenga choli, Pakistani Suits, Sari etc. also, one of the most exciting and satisfying factors is that we offer Lehenga for every event from Engagement, Mehendi to Sangeet to Marriage.

DIYA ONLINE’s Exclusive Designer Lehenga Range-

A wide range of Indian bridal lehenga choli, marriage Lehenga dresses, Shop graceful and elegant Bridal-made Lehenga choli. https://www.diyaonline.com/women/clothing/lehenga.html

[yinza]

I wanted to try putting together some queer couples in this style...

Stickers available in my Etsy shop, and prints via Inprnt!

[Image Description: A set of six flat-color drawings in a simple style. From left to right, top to bottom: 1, against the trans flag: a thin white person with a blue undercut holding a fat black woman bridal style. The black woman wears a pink flannel over a red shirt and jean shorts and red sneakers.

2, against the pan flag: a thin black man in a wheelchair with hot pink accents, his clothes in the corresponding purple and blue of the bi flag. Beside him walks a thin black woman in a white dress holding a rainbow umbrella.

3, against the gay man flag: two South Asian men in salwar kameez stand holding hands with their foreheads touching. The one on the left is wearing trans colors.

4, against the lesbian flag: a chubby South Asian woman with long dark hair and glasses sits embracing a petite East Asian woman with short hair. Together their outfits comprise the colors of the flag.

5, against the polyamorous flag: a chubby freckled Latina woman with long wavy hair and a skinny white person with a shaved head, tattoos, and a prosthetic leg stand embracing a hijabi woman between them. The two on the outside have outfits with the colors of the aroace flag, while the hijabi woman wears aromantic colors.

6, against the nonbinary flag: a fat white person with a grey beard and ponytail, using a forearm crutch, and a mid-size black man with long greying hair who is gently touching his partner's face. The black man wears ace colors, while the white person wears nonbinary ones. /end ID]

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮  tags ; desi-coded reader (tbh...specifically bangladeshi dkjfsdj), pre-wedding celebration, so blatantly selfship coded i might have to delete it if the shame kicks in , 18+

Night air wisps against your warm skin like thin threads of silk as you step away from the party - with the assistance of Sakura, who held the door open like his life depended on it.

Your arms are stiff from how long you've been holding them in the same position, but after upwards of three hours - all the mendhi required for your upcoming wedding ceremony has been put on.

From the tips of your fingers all the way down to your elbows and even some parts of your feet. It's the one aspect of the celebration you've always looked forward too. When you glance down and see it, its completely surpassed your expectations

Through the light of your window is your family and friends, traditional folk music and ballad love songs play as guest dance and laugh in the warm lights of your living room. Laughter bubbles through the crack letting out some air and you smile to yourself, careful not to touch anything.

The feeling of drying mendhi on your skin is nostalgic even in it's mild discomfort, a slight itch in the intricate designs covering your palms. You sniff a little from the cool air, lungs filling with the earthy, heavy scent of mendhi paste and the sharp bitterness of mustard oil.

You slip further away until you end up enough distance away for the sound to quiet. Crickets chirp and the wind blows - as if the whole world is feeling soft.

You aren't expecting Umemiya to pop out from anywhere. He must've noticed you leaving and followed you out. You try not to smile and fail when he makes his way towards you.

Umemiya grins brighter than the sun. In the dead of night and even amidst the pleasant atmosphere - nothing shines quite like him. He looks good in the clothes your extended family so painstakingly picked out for him. A panjabi and salwar to match, a pleasantly deep shade of blue to go with his eyes. Your kameez is more complicated, but the tailoring similarities of the florals and beadwork make you happy no matter how trivial. It feels a little more worth getting three outfits tailored looking at him.

He cuts a fine figure in general, you think.

He approaches first with worry. A furrow in his brow.

"You okay?"

You smile at him and then smile a little more at the way it makes him relax instantly.

"I'm good." You take a deep breath, hands stiff at your sides and suddenly itching to find his to hold. "Was getting hot and stiff sitting for so long."

"Oh, is it done finally? Am I allowed to look?"

"Were you gonna avoid looking at my arms for three days if I said no?" You tease. Umemiya's eyes fill with mirth and sincerity.

"If I had too."

Silly. You love him, you think. You shake your head. "You can look. Might be a little hard to see even with the street light though."

"That's okay." He says, and there's something deeply doting in his voice that makes you feel like you might sink. "An excuse to get close to you is always nice to have."

You hold out your arms and lift your palms gently to Umemiya. His admiration makes your heart swell ten folds. His hands are careful as they slide underneath your own decorate ones, careful not to touch the actual design but to support your forearms and wrists.

"It's so beautiful."

"Right? She did a good job. She's doing Kotoha-chans now."

He makes a little affirmative noise while he draws his eyes along the different shapes and patters. Traditional shapes of roses and marigolds along with inspired cuts. There's a mix of imagery, well integrated - patterns of cranes and cherry blossoms well woven into it as symbolism. Umemiya pauses, most certainly noticing the nuance.

"I like it a lot. You're gonna look so beautiful."

You brush past the words, unable to respond to them without feeling earnest flush. Umemiya is undeterred by this, just offers a smile and another light touch. He leans it to place a kiss to your temple before pulling back.

A thought pops into your head. You wanted to show him eventually - you thought at least after you washed it off, but now seems like a better time.

"Oh and..." You carefully hold your wrist up to him. "See?"

He squints for a long while before breaking out into an impossible grin. Hidden in the wrists of your mendhi design are the characters of his name - integrated into the piece. You can see the very moment it clicks.

"Is that...is it traditional?"

"Maybe? It's common at least. I thought it'd be more special with the Japanese characters though.”

A little nod to him and to you. He's silent for a long while, deep in thought about something. You don't know what exactly.

"I love it," He says, then looks up at you. He presses his forehead against yours, a gentle tap that still manages to catch you off guard as he does. The decorative teep on your forehead presses a little into his skin as he does it but you don't make a move to pull away from his affection. "I love you."

You tilt your head a little, pretending to wipe sweat from your brow.

"That's a relief."

He shakes his head. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Could you feed me something off the table inside? I'm hungry."

He almost seems upset he didn't think of it first. He nods. "I'll be right back. Stay put but be careful."

"I'm right infront of the house Hajime."

"It's always good to be careful. I'd be sad if my wife went missing just days before,"

“I’ll be safe,”

“And I’ll be quick,”

He pauses before he goes back through the door, turning suddenly before he smiles again. Impossibly gently, he runs his fingers through his hair before running back to you.

Another kiss to the corner of your mouth followed with one to your lips. The last one carefully place on the drying mendhi on your arms just where his name sits.

“I love you,”

You soften. “I love you too, Hajime. You can dote on me as much as you want when you come back.”

He grins. “I’ll hold you to that.”

glossary of terms:

mendhi - more commonly known as henna, a special skin safe paste used for decorative designs. commonly red or black.

panjabi - bangla word for kurta. basically a long item of menswear that stops just past the knee or above.

teep - also known as bindi. a decorative sticker or red dot placed in the center of the forehead.

** more cultural notes: in bangladesh mustard oil is often used to deepen the color of mendhi. it normally goes on after or while almost dry.

[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Anniversary Arshi fiesta

Moodboard : Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 09

I am not very good at writing ffs. I even read ffs very selectively. But it was an attempt of me to participate in the 13th-anniversary arshi fiesta.

I might be wrong about certain aspects of that age and era, but it's a fantasy, so why not? I don't own Arnav and Khushi and the story is purely fictional and has no relation to any living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Chapter 9

Arnav lay awake in the dimly lit room, the weight of the inevitable suffocating him. His arms felt like lead, every movement a struggle against the gravity of his despair. His body, usually full of restless energy, now lay still and drained. But it was his heart that weighed the heaviest.

For so long, he had carried this heartbreak, but never before had it felt so unbearable. Each breath was a reminder of the emptiness inside him, a void that seemed to grow with each passing moment. The memories flooded his mind like a torrential downpour, drowning him in regrets and what-ifs.

He was so deep in his thoughts that he missed the soft knocks the first two times. The third knock jolted him with surprise. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a familiar face he hadn't expected to see.

There she stood, draped in a white salwar kameez, her hair unkempt and loose. But it was her face that shattered Arnav into a million pieces. Her once-beautiful hazel eyes, now rimmed with red, stood out starkly against her ghostly pale face. Each delicate feature seemed to tremble under the weight of her inner turmoil, casting shadows where there was once light. Her gaze fixed on him with clenched fists and body frozen in place. The struggle to contain her emotions was palpable, evident in the quiver of her lip and the tense line of her jaw.

Arnav, momentarily stunned, sprang into action. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked urgently. Khushi didn't respond. Instead, she barged into the room quietly. After checking to ensure no one had seen them, Arnav closed the door quickly. "Khushi, why are you here so late at night? You need to go back to your room right now. What if someone sees you coming to my room?" he whispered, trying to keep his voice low but forceful.

As she remained unresponsive, Arnav sighed. He gently took her elbow, guiding her to sit in the desk chair before seating himself opposite her. "What happened Khushi? batao mujhe."

Khushi had the whole conversation set in her head, but now that he was in front of her, words seemed lost to her. Her eyes fixed on her wringing hands, her lips quivered as she struggled to form a single sentence."I don't want to marry him."

"Oh," Arnav said as realization dawned on him. "Okay, I'll talk with Chachu. Don't worry."

" I don't want to marry anyone else, either," she murmured, still looking down.

A moment later, when Khushi glanced up and looked at Arnav with pleading innocent eyes, he wished she had remained looking down instead. "Don't you love me at all?" Her voice caught at the word 'love'.

How could anyone possibly answer such a question if it were asked by the love of their life? Now it was Arnav's turn to look down at his hands.He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the moment like a nightmare.

Khushi continued with a barely-there voice, "If you don't, then tell me to my face."

"What?" Arnav whispered. His bewildered gaze snapped up to meet hers.

"Okay, I'll go first," she said with a quivering voice, "I love you." Two pairs of beautiful eyes gazed at each other, one hazel and the other caramel brown. They were having their own conversation beyond the comprehension of mortal language.

Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. "Since when, I don't know, but I do. And I want to spend my life with you," she said in a breath unless she lost her courage. And then, she looked away.

The words floated between them, desperate to be acknowledged and cherished like their owner. Collecting herself, she started again, "And if you don't feel the same way, then tell me that you don't love me... that you've never loved me... I need to hear it from you... maybe then I can move on without the what-ifs haunting me at night." Her voice cracked with emotion.

Arnav marvelled at the bravery of the slip of a girl before him, her beauty magnified by her courage. Tears streamed down his face unabated ever since she had confessed, each drop a testament to the storm raging within him. His heart yearned to sweep her away from these harsh realities and keep her hidden somewhere far from all of these heartbreaks. Her vulnerable yet hopeful gaze was begging for a response that he struggled to articulate, caught between the weight of his emotions and the gravity of the situation. Looking down, he pressed his fists in his eyes, " Don't ask me to say that I don't love you."

" Why?" she pressed further, "Why can't you just say it out loud if it isn't true?"

"BECAUSE I DO, DAMN IT!" he snapped, not able to contain himself, revealing his deepest, darkest secret. He hadn't meant to, but the words had burst from him uncontrollably, unleashing the truth he had guarded with utmost care.

He started pacing the room. His fingers tangled in his hair, pulling at the strands as if trying to unravel the turmoil within him. The air felt heavy, tension hanging like a living, breathing being, as Khushi stared at him in wide-eyed bewilderment, tinged with joy and astonishment.

There was a spark in her eyes that wasn't there a few moments ago—a glimmer of hope she needed to chase. Nothing could stop her today. "Then why? Why are you denying your feelings?" Her voice carried a mix of frustration and anguish as she began to pace behind him as well with her suffocating questions."Kyun de rahe hain apni aapko itni takleef aur saath saath mein hume bhi?"

Arnav abruptly turned around and grabbed her upper arms on both sides. He pulled her body close to his. ''Don't you get it, Khushi? You deserve so much more, and I can't give them to you. I don't even have a steady job, no family to support us and not even a home of my own." Each word was punctuated by a shake. "When the initial bliss fades, you'll resent me for putting you through this. Love doesn't put food on the table Khushi." His grip tightened slightly, a plea for her to understand the harsh reality he was laying bare. "Ye duniya pyaar ki bhaasha nahi samajhti, ye duniya waise hi bedard aur patthar dil hain jaise hamesha thi." Releasing Khushi, he turned his back to her.

Khushi looked upward, desperately wanting her tears to stop. A suffocating silence filled the space between them. "So, you're letting me go, just like that? Without even trying? " she asked, her voice trembling.

When she got no response, she got her answer in his silence. She continued softly, "One day, you will have all of these things. I hope they bring you happiness,...... even if I'm not there with you." She paused, her body turning numb with each passing second. "Because I don't see myself being happy surrounded by all the things that you think I deserve,..... without you," she whispered.

Arnav closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. ''You will be happy, Khushi. You shouldn't have loved someone like me in the first place. Soon, you'll find someone you'll fall madly in love with, and you'll forget about me.''

"You don't get to tell me how I will feel or won't feel. If you had told me this two years ago when I was confused, I might have entertained your suggestion. But I have thought about it day and night, and my feelings for you haven't changed a bit in these past two years. My heart still beats the same way, despite you hurting me so much. So, You, Arnav Singh Raizada, Don't tell me what to feel and what not to feel. Samjhe App ?" She said with angry tears running down her face.

She was not finished though "And you are right. I shouldn't have loved someone like you...and if this is the way you love,.... I don't want to be a woman that you love either."

She knew exactly what she was doing. Fueled by anger and hurt, her initial intent was to inflict as much pain on him as possible. But when he turned around, the pain in his eyes quenched the words on her lips. But she had to do this one thing for herself, she mustered all her strength for one last time and said "Goodbye, Arnav."

With that, she left her heart in that room without looking back, with that stubborn man who had become 'patthar dil' in his 'patthar dil' world, while her whole being begged her to turn around and plead with him to accept her love. As the physical distance between them continued to grow, she felt the gap in her heart widening. She placed her hand on her chest to soothe the ache. When she had entered his room earlier, she had thought the worst he could do was reject her. She couldn't help but laugh internally at the bitter irony of the situation.

As soon as she found herself alone in the confines of her room, she sank down against the door and released everything she had been holding onto. Time seemed to slip away unnoticed as she sat there, her voice strained from suppressed sobs, her eyes dry with runaway tears.

After a while, she gathered herself and made her way to the sturdy oak desk that stood by the window. Her hands found her leather-bound diary. The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm, comforting light over the worn pages. Opening it to a fresh, blank page, she hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over the smooth paper.

She was resolute in her determination not to plead with Arnav. Yet, in the quiet of her room, with no one to witness her vulnerability, she felt an inexplicable urge to beg—she wasn't sure to whom or for what. It was a desperate desire to bargain with fate, willing to offer anything to alleviate the searing pain that had taken residence in her heart.

With trembling fingers, she picked up the pen and let her hand move across the page, each stroke a silent prayer that her words would somehow find their way to him.

On the other side of Rajput Haveli, Arnav paced restlessly in his room, his mind consumed with thoughts of Khushi. The carriage that would whisk him away was due in a few short hours. The clock struck half past 4, marking the passage of time he could no longer ignore. Unable to bear the agony any longer, Arnav found himself outside Khushi's door, the pull towards her undeniable, like an invisible string tugging at his heart.

He knew he had to see her one last time, to assure himself that she was alright. The thought of leaving her in distress gnawed at him, compelling him to knock. As his hand hovered over the door, he discovered it was unlocked. With a hesitant push, he entered quietly.

Inside, Arnav found Khushi hunched over her desk, her flawless face marred with dried tear streaks. She had fallen asleep upon the leather-bound diary he had gifted her. In the dim light, he could make out her elegant handwriting. Curiously, he moved closer and found only two lines on that page that shifted his entire universe on its axis.

( Please don't divide me into two parts, Arnav. I cannot live without you.)

@featheredclover @arshifiesta @phuljari @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @titaliya @deliciouspistachios @arshisrabbave @arshiradio @msbhagirathi

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[sorcerous-caress]

Hell yeah I'm back, crushed my exams, now I have more time to think about everyone's favorite loser elf 💜💜

Your post a couple days back about posting homemade porn to the xhuman forum really got me thinking

What if one day you showed up at your loser elf's house in traditional elvish clothing?

You shrug and casually mention that you bought it at a market the other day because it reminded you of him, but he's only barely registering your words.

His eyes rake over your body from head to toe and then back up again, staring unashamed at how the light, airy fabric dances around your arms and legs. He can't stop staring at how perfectly the garment hugs your body, and since humans are more supple and rounded than elves, the fabric bunches up just so on your hips, accentuating your curves and making heat rise to his face, the tips of his ears going red as you notice the visible tent in his pants.

You smile devilishly at him as you lead him towards his bed, all the while he's thinking about how the organic fabrics you're wearing would be very delicate and so easy to tear through.

You're fully aware of what seeing you in his traditional clothing would do to him, so of course you prepared accordingly. He's in for a lucky surprise when he finally gets your overclothes off to find that you picked up some elvish-inspired lingerie at the market as well.

(somewhat inspired by my realization while dressing up to go to an Indian holiday party, when I noticed that a salwar kameez and dupatta kinda reminded me of what I'd imagine elvish clothing to look like)

Good job on finishing your exams, please make sure to rest.

I really like the idea of human reader trying to learn more about elf culture for their cute loser high elf

And yes, I imagine elvish clothes to be inspired by South Asian, Middle Eastern, and anciest Greek clothes.

Instead of reader buying it randomly, what if you've put research into it? Read about elf culture and found the perfect attire to wear.

Maybe it's something only newly wedded spouces wear for each other, or maybe it is a honeymoon phase kind of outfit. Elvish clothes are airy by nature, but this one you've found is more head-turning than the rest.

Almost like it was made out of large flower petals that hug your body just right with their vibrant colours. Wrapping your hips with two petals that conjoin in the middle, their pointy tips barely covering the insides of your thighs. Each petal trailing up your body and leaving small windows of bare flesh, the outfit is on the shorter side with no shoulders or neck, just going from your hips to your chest in a colourful chain of petals.

Or maybe a translucent outfit that shimmers and brims with life magic, a dark hue that matches the night sky. Various stars in shapes and sizes swimming on the print and gently swaying from place to place with every step you take. Your skin and curves are extremely visible underneath it. It's made out of one large and very long cloth that you have to wrap around yourself to from multiple layers and give it a shape. The material is so thin that the outfit never gets thicker than human clothes no matter how many you layer.

Or it's a long pure white silk with gold leaves trim, much like an outfit a greek god would wear. The silk is akin to a second skin as even the shape of your bare stomach is visible from underneath it. There's an almost invisible pattern wooven into the silk with the occasional glimmering sparks.

Whichever it was, one thing was clear when your outfit finally arrived. It's that this was never made for a human like body.

It's your size but longer than usual, it's too tight in certain places. You can't even wear anything underneath it because it wouldn't fit then. The shape of your chest is fully on display, the way the supposed airy outfit completely hugs your figure like a glove.

Your hips and thighs being squeezed so deliciously by the fabric. The material feeling almost strange on top of a human's soft skin, elves generally have tighter skin that's not as sensitive as the humans.

How each outfit is made out of various pieces and parts you have to put together to complete the picture. Unlike humanity's preference for compact clothes that are easy to wear or come as whole pieces, elves prefer complexity and a single shirt can have up to 13 steps to put on.

There aren't any buttons or seams or zippers. It's whole pieces that are held together by either magic or jewellery. Everything from the top of your head to your ankles has a specific piece that is important to complete the outfit.

It takes a lot of effort and after so many different youtube tutorials, mostly in elvish which you couldn't understand and had to relay on visuals only, you get the hand of it.

Since it was a surprise, you decline his offer to pick you up when you send him a message saying you're coming over. Walking through the street and getting curious and confused looks from other humans on your outfit.

You passed by a couple of elves that did a doube take when they saw you, blatantly staring at your short ears then your clothes. They looked like they wanted to say something to you, one of them even walked up to you and opened their mouth.

But nothing came out, they just turned around and went back to their friend. Completely red in the face as they kept stealing glances at you while whispering in elvish to each other.

After finally making it and opening the front door with the spare key he gave you, you step inside.

Expecting you, he calls out your name with clear excitement in his voice before clearing his throat and trying to attempting to mask his excitement as he makes his way to you.

The second his eyes register what you're wearing, his mind short circuits. His eyes have to blink a couple of times as if it's a trick of the light or an illusion, complete disbelief at the fact you're actually real and standing in his doorway in these clothes.

Just like the elves from before, his mouth opens but nothing comes out.

Then he's immediately picking you up and pinning you to the door. Lips hungrily kissing yours as desperate whimpers escape him.

It's his feelings are too much for his body to handle, his hands keep switching form place to place as he can't decide where to touch you first, where to feel and grope you.

His fingers are shaking, his eyes still looking at you with disbelief as his lips refuse to let up, as if he'll run out of air without the taste of your mouth.

You feel his hardness against you. He barely pays it any attention as he continues to admire your body. Marvelling at the way the clothes cling to your skin, at the various jewellery and elven designs, on you, a human.

If only a man can die from happiness, then he'll die happily knowing your current image was the last thing he has seen.

Do you even understand the effect of your outfit on him, little human? Do you even know what it represents? For all you know, you could've been walking outside with the equivalent of elven lingerie or a nightie.

He's calling you various endearing names in his original tongue, from endearing titles to ones exclusive to married souls. He seems in a haze as he urges you towards the bedroom, eyes pleading and knees weak as he struggles to switch betwern kissing you and pulling away to talk.

[thethirdromana]

I'm home alone on Saturday evening, what is there to do but go to Netflix and watch a truly appalling romcom? The cat's with me and I have alcohol: it's time for Irish Wish.

I normally rate Alexander Vlahos as an actor so I'm not quite sure what's happened here. His accent is to an actual Irish accent what this is to an elephant:

Picard's son from Picard is here! He's throwing fistfuls of charm at the dubious script and some of it is sticking.

Aww, Maddie is clumsy! What an unusual trait for a character in a romcom.

Fascinated by the choice to dress the mystical Irish fairy in a silk headscarf and a salwar kameez. I mean, it works, it's just... unexpected.

The puff sleeves are awful but I'm honestly impressed that Maddie has a wedding dress that she can run in.

Maybe I'm just failing at genre conventions for this kind of romcom but it feels like it would be helpful if Paul were even a tiny bit likeable, just to give some sense of why Maddie has feelings for him, and also to make it seem like maybe Emma wouldn't be getting such a raw deal out of it.

Is it just that he's loaded and has a massive house?

I've just realised that the house is supposed to be a short journey from Lough Tay, in County Wicklow, but Maddie flew into Knock Airport. And yes, I know that expecting film geography to make sense is a mug's game, but I'm also not sure why they would choose Knock Airport and not Dublin? Is this airport product placement?

Was it that they didn't think it would be plausible for Maddie to end up on a quaint old-fashioned bus from Dublin, but it was plausible that the same quaint old-fashioned bus would drive for three hours across most of Ireland to drop Maddie at the most plot-convenient location?

Oh, and now we're at the Cliffs of Moher. A six-hour round trip from Paul's house.

Let's not even get into the James Joyce thing.

James (not Joyce) tells Maddie that it would "hardly be difficult" to move her wedding to the other side of the country the weekend before it's due to take place. And the sentiment is sweet, but as someone who has organised a wedding, I have to say: it would, in fact, be difficult. Really quite difficult.

It's just not the most straightforward location to hold a wedding, you know?

I can't believe they're doing the classic "he teaches her how to shoot" scene, but with darts.

DARTS. The sexiest leisure activity.

And the height of romance is being weirdly judgmental about someone who you've known for a day.

Picard Junior is giving it socks, in fairness. I hope he gets to do this kind of thing in a better film than this at some point.

Also, Irish fairy lady is... St Brigid? Probably best not to dig into the theological implications of St Brigid-as-trickster-spirit.

The music after the Big Damn Kiss goes on just a tiny bit too long.

It is genuinely unclear to me whether Maddie intends to write a book on the Cliffs of Moher, as in about them, or physically on them. Feels like it could be either in this film.

Well, if nothing else, I hope Knock Airport's marketing team are pleased.

[mybatuaclothing]

Muslim Clothes for Women

Sure! Here’s an overview of Muslim clothing for women, highlighting various styles and their significance:

1. Hijab

A headscarf worn to cover the hair and neck, available in various styles and fabrics. It can be styled in numerous ways to suit personal preferences.

2. Abaya

A loose-fitting, long robe that often features intricate designs. It’s commonly worn over regular clothing and is popular in many cultures.

3. Jilbab

Similar to the abaya but may have more tailored designs. It provides coverage and can come in various lengths and styles.

Kaftan

A flowing garment that can be worn casually or formally. Often embellished, kaftans are versatile and comfortable.

5. Tunic and Pants

Long tunics paired with loose-fitting trousers are a popular choice for everyday wear, providing both modesty and style.

6. Salwar Kameez

A traditional outfit consisting of a tunic (kameez) and loose pants (salwar). This outfit is popular in South Asia and is often worn during festivals and events.

Maxi Dresses

Long dresses that provide coverage while being fashionable. These can be layered with jackets or cardigans for added modesty.

[livelaughlovechai]

Things to keep in mind while writing a south asian character-

(Since I'm a mixed south-north indian and a hindu-sikh I've mainly included details about indian-hindu characters(ill try to include more abt sikh characters aswell)tho ive tried to include as much info as I can abt other south asian countries aswell !also ,if you want,feel free to add more details in :)

And please forgive my grammar in some of these places XD

1.The most common one,of course being that south asia is not all india.countries like Pakistan, Bangladesh, Nepal, Sri lanka,Bhutan etc exist to.

2.Religion tends to be a big part of many south asian people’s lives , and If not a big part of their life,than most south asians are atleast religious in one way or the other.Different religions are in majority in different regions of south asia.For example,Sri lanka is majority buddhist, mainly in the sinhalese majority while the tamil minority there is majority hindu. But it's more than valid if ur character is atheist to tho!

3.For indian characters specifically ,it's is important to know what state they are from and that state’s culture . For example,most (or almost all)tamil characters won't wear a salwar kameez.(if they do then mostly muslim tamils)(reminder;I'm talking about traditional wear. Yes a lot of Tamil's could wear a salwar kameez if they want but it is not the traditional dress of tamil nadu)

4.India itself is very diverse,so don't make every character hindu.in some regions one religion is more in the majority than the others.If you decide to make a christian-indian character ,than they usually are from south-west india and north-east india.

5.If you decide to make a hindu-indian character as maybe a marvel/dc oc or something , its best to do some research on hindu stories and history.trust me,it helps alot. If not a hindu character than do research on the folk tales of that characters region,as that can help to.

6.NOT EVERY INDIAN SPEAKS HINDI.INDIAN/HINDU ARE NOT LANGUAGES.istg please . All it takes is one search of your characters state and the states description almost always mentions the state’s official language.while some character from non Hindi speaking areas of the country, for example a malyalee person could know how to speak hindi (most probably by living somewhere like delhi),they would still talk in malayalam with family and stuff . Also a pakistani character and Hindi speaking indian can almost always communicate easily since since the most spoken language in Pakistan,Urdu is very similar to Hindi in sound(also a lot of indians,specifically muslim indian’s have urdu as their first language.)Also punjabi Pakistani's and Indian's don't have any problem in communication(the script they write punjabi in is different tho)Also since a lot of people from the north had their ancestors migrate from pakistan to india during partition regional languages of Pakistan such as sindhi,multani,balochi etc can be understood by some people of such descent living in India.And a bengali speaking indian and a Bangladeshi can communicate just as well.Nepali speaking indians and Nepali people can also communicate with each other.But when it comes to Sri Lankan tamil people their dialect is different than the one of indian tamilians,so their tamil is better understood by malyalees,but they can still communicate well enough with each other.afghan people speak pashto and dari.pashto is also understood by a small amount of ethnic pashtuns who live throughout the sub continent.People from the Maldives speak the language of dhivehi.

7.Indians overall have many festivals that all people of usually a certain community celebrate regardless of religion,caste,etc.For example ,the people in kerela celebrate onam.Infact in alot of the state’s people from a specific region have their on festivities.

8.Physical features vary from area to area of South Asia.So there is no definite“south asian“look.

9.Sikh’s don’t cut their hair , that’s why most Sikh women have long hair and most Sikh men wear turbans. Although some do, like my uncle from my mom’s side and my mom herself and etc. Though socially it's more acceptable for a sikh woman to cut her hair then a sikh man. But a load of times sikh immigrants do have to sadly cut their hair and take off their turbans in order to get jobs and all.

10.-And Hindu’s don’t eat beef.Most Sikh’s and overall all Indians tend to avoid beef to.a lot of Hindus are vegetarians due to religious beliefs. Tho mallus and some people from the north east for example usualy do eat beef(mainly the non hindus)

11.-For characters specially from south india(that to mainly kerala and tamil Nadu) the naming tradition that is used most commonly is that the child and wife use the father’s name as their last name. Though I've noticed that outside of their states atleast they tend to use their family names, but very rarely caste names.

12.- Believe it or not, in a show( I'm not sure about the name) a pakistani character had the name“shiv reddy“.pissed me of sm.yes pakistani hindus exist but if I havent already mentioned before,CERTAIN LAST NAMES BELONG TO CERTAIN AREAS. Reddy is an indian telugu hindu last name.please do your research.

13.-This applies to a good amount of north indians and just overall non south indians.south india is not one state.madras was the OLD name for Chennai, which is just one CITY in one state of south india.There are 5 states,6(and more) languages spoken. Please do not confuse those cultures.

14.-As for a good amount of non punjabis...please.punjabis are not all “balle-balle“ sikh people.please. And they're not all angry people looking for a fight either.

15.-Talking abt north india,I need to mention bollywood and how they stereotype.bombay aka the film city is in Maharashtra.yet they still stereotype Maharashtrians as poor people.gujjus are always the rich snobbish ppl.bengali ppl are sweet shy people and nepali people are Chinese. Goans are always english speaking drunkards or high attitude aunties.rajasthanis all have a heavy accent and are royalty and Uttar pradeshis-biharis are poor illiterate people. PLEASE STOP WITH THIS STEREOTYPICAL BULLSHIT ISTG. See,stereotypes exist because they are true, but only a part of the truth and over exaggerated asf.

16.-India does have a poverty issue but we are far from a third world country.most indians are middle class,that to is split in between lower middle class,middle middle class and upper middle class.and until or unless you live in a rural area casteism really isn't a problem.but remember,while casteism is illegal in indian law,it still affects people.it’s just a little less prevelant in big cities. While india is the farthest ahead in south asia atleast the rest of the countries are doing well for themselves as well.

17.-hindu culture specifically has so much lgbtqia+ stuff in it.but the fucking brit’s and Mughals ruined it. The only transgender festival of Asia is held in tamil nadu.seriously, I advise you do research of your own on it and you'll love it to!♥️

18.-Btw, hindi is a language,hindu religion. (had to add this again)Your character prolly from some place like madhya pradesh,bihar,Uttar pradesh,Delhi,uttarakhand or himachal pradesh if they are hindi speaking. Some people have the same confusion with malayalam. Malayalam is a language, malyalee’s are the people who speak it or at from kerala.

19.-talking about food.curry is a wide ass term.wdym by curry?fish curry,mutton curry or is it paneer curry?is it more creamy or not?do you eat it by itself,with rice,a paratha/parotta or all?like seriously stop with “curry“ ITS ANNOYINGGG.again food varries alot area by area.even in a specific area food varries. For example,Kerala-Tamil nadu sambar is damn spicy but sambar from karnataka and telugu states tends to be sweeter.also food from Karnataka is much milder in spice then food from Andhra,but still capable of burning the mouths of most non south asians 😍😘🥰.also,we tend to eat most of our food with hands(THE best way.)famous delicacies vary from country to country in south asia and area to area of india btw. And our food is not ’smelly’, it's FRAGRANT.

20.ok so ive in total had 2 specific segments dedicated to language and this is the third one.India,while having only 22 offical languages(again;i remind you,we do not have a national language)actually has like thousands of languages. Native people from even just one state can have different mother tongues(for example-three people who were born and raised in karnataka and have families that are native to the state could have the languages of kannada,tulu and kodava as their mother tongues).And again,dialects also differ.For example,Bombay hindi and the hindi of a person from Uttarakhand would be different, and so would Bangalore tamil and a Madurai native’s tamil.Also,let’s say a telugu person has been living in mumbai for a while,very rarely will they ever have an ’accent’ while speaking hindi or english.

21.so above i mentioned that alot of people from the north have had ancestors move in from pakistan during the partition(and vice versa for some Pakistani's).Similarly,a good amount of people from west bengal had their ancestors move in from bangladesh(and vice versa again,but unlike the north india-pakistan thing indian bong’s and bangladeshi people don’t exactly have that ’divide’).Adding this in specifically not only because of how important this is but it can give more depth to your characters if they are from any of these areas.

22.Every state has different art forms.be it dance,music or just art,every state has it different.India has 8 classical dances(bharatanatyam,kuchipudi, mohiniyattam,kathakali,oddisi,kathak, manipuri and sattriya) and has countless many more.Music also varies and so does art as i said above.

23.our culture is super feminist but fucked by the brits and mughals again. We had so many queens and princesses that fought wars and also many female warriors.In the ancient times women only wore single drape saris and didn’t cover their breasts because they were not seen as sexual,but infact as a sign of motherhood(and there forth strength).If they were covered,it was for support.

24.Most people know atleast 3+ languages and almost everyone knows 2 at the very least. Sometimes they can even understand(which can range from basic to great) some other languages. For eg.- my dad can speak english,hindi,telugu,konkani,tulu,punjabi,urdu and multani+ he can understand malayalam,kannada,sindhi and tamil well enough.

That's it(for now):) hope this can help.feel free to ask questions!+random songs from my playlist✨✨✨

(ps,check this post of mine out cause y not lol)

[jake-g-lockley]

Born to be Yours: Part 1 (Marc Spector x fem!reader)

Masterlist | Playlist | Part 2

Warnings: A little bit of angst, smut (not too explicit in this part)

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I decided it's best to come back with a bang (ehehehhe, ok ill stop now), and what other way to do it than to post on my birthday. BUT HI, THANKS FOR BEING PATIENT WITH ME <333 I'm going to start writing and posting more often from now on, part two of this should be up by Wednesday. Again, love y'all loads and enjoy this Marc fic hehe.

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The toddler’s shrieks reverberated around the patio as you spun around with her in your arms. 

“AHHH the monster will never let you go!” You squealed and tickled the toddler, drawing out loud giggles. 

Suddenly, big, strong arms ripped the toddler from your grasp, leaving you confused. 

“Your prince charming is here to save you, m’lady!” a fake English accent followed a gorgeous raven haired man who stepped into your line of vision.

You scowl, despite the flutter of butterflies in your tummy, at the person in front of you, as the toddler gives him a big kiss on the cheek. He winked back to you and set the toddler down, who toddled away to her mother. 

“Didn’t expect for you to show up.” You say to the chiseled Greek god that decided to grace your presence. 

He hands you a chilled beer as he not-so-subtly eyes you up and down.

“Yea, I was in town and had to rescue my princess.” His eyes snap to yours and you feel a little creature in the pits of your stomach awaken. You snort and take a little sip of your beer.

“How long have you been back?” you leaned against the railing.

“About a week. Been meaning to meet you.” he says with a genuine smile.

“Bullshit, Spector. You hate my guts.” You laughed, trying not to blush at his pretty smile. 

The old butterflies that you tried so hard to push away from you instantaneously resurfaced the second you laid your eyes on Marc Spector, threatening to tear themselves out of you and surround you with their visually piercing wings, as if attempting to shield you from the yearning that you had endured all these years.

Gina had organized a little barbecue with drinks and you had dropped by after work, your usual office clothes swapped with a cream colored salwar kameez and a beautiful red bordered shawl in the same color. You would be lying if you didn’t check your makeup and salwar kameez about a billion times before coming here, after knowing that Marc would be joining. You had not seen Marc for months and a small part of you wanted to see him at the gathering. 

“Gina told me that you’ve got a boyfriend?” Marc suddenly says, and you raise an eyebrow at him, trying to scan his face for even the smallest bit of reaction to the statement he had just blurted out.

“So what if I do?” you said, raising an eyebrow slightly. 

“Lucky boy, I guess.” he shrugged, averting his dark eyes away from you.

“Gods, Marc, we’re 35, I don’t date boys, I date men.” you sighed exasperatedly.

“Mmm, so then why isn’t this a thing.” he said nonchalantly, gesturing between the two of you, his face masking any emotion that you wanted to pick up on.

“Okay, kiddos, cut it off, I can hear an argument brewing. Stop it before I kick the both of you out of the house.” Gina steps in before you could even answer. 

“It's a civilized conversation Gina, and you should really stop telling this man stories about my love life.” you chastised, bringing the beer bottle to your lips, tipping your head back and chugging the rest of it before slamming the bottle down to the table. “And Spector, this right here isn’t a thing because we’re just not it.”

You walked away from Marc and Gina to go and mingle with the others but you swore you could feel Marc’s impenetrable gaze lingering on you. His words remained imprinted in your mind and it kept playing again and again.

Why isn’t this a thing?

Did Marc have feelings for you? Or was he just testing the waters? You shook your head to rid the thoughts that were circulating aimlessly around. You really needed to clear your mind. 

You left the little gathering and stepped into the house, slipping into the bathroom. You do your business and then wash your hands when suddenly the door swings open and Marc steps in and closes the door behind him.

“Bloody hell Marc, I swear I locked that.” You gasped as Marc chuckled. Your hand clutched at your chest and you took a few deep breaths.

“Did you follow me here?” You questioned, once your breathing steadied slightly. 

“What if I did?” he said, raising his eyebrows, a mischievous glint flashing through his eyes.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the sink to wipe your hands on the small towel. You planted your hands on either side of the sink and glared at Marc through the mirror. 

“Why are you here then?” you say to his mirrored image. 

“What do you mean by ‘We’re just not it’?” he interrogated.

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t”

“Spector, we’re polar opposites, you like playing around with guns and being reckless, while I prefer the peaceful suburban life with no recurrent issues.” you sigh, bringing your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose. “We’ve not seen eye to eye since we were kids and things will just not work between us.”

“We were just kids.” Marc smiled. “Times have changed.”

Tentatively, Marc took a step closer to you until he was standing directly behind you. Your glare faltered and your eyelashes fluttered slightly as he brushed his fingertips up your right arm and your grip on the sink loosened as tingles spread through your body.

“What if I told you we could make it work?” he breathed.

“We’re barely even friends, Marc.” You whispered.

He closes the gap, pushing you slightly against the sink and your breath hitched at his crotch pushed against the curve of your behind. You leaned back until you were flush against him, trying your best not to move against him. 

“Mmm, is that what you want to be? Friends?” Marc uttered into your ear and you swore you could see his eyes glow white.

You wanted to answer him but that part of you, the sensible part of you, was tossed away, replaced with a prey who was trying her best to stand up to something a little too big for her liking.

Without a warning, he grabbed your hips and twirled you around to face him. On a normal instance, if someone had manhandled you like this, they would have had their head bashed in, but for some reason, a creature in you purred with Marc’s touch and your eyes voluntarily closed.

“Open your eyes and answer my question.” Marc’s breath tickled your face and your eyes opened instantly and you tried to nod.

“I-” Whatever coherent sentence you were going to utter was lost to the last of the air that escaped your lungs as your eye zeroed on the thin gold chain around his neck that had somehow escaped from his black button down shirt. You felt your world stop when you saw what he was wearing as a pendant. 

Years ago, when Marc had left to join the military, you’d lost one of your favorite rings. It was a tiny gold band with a beautiful tiny blue sapphire that had been gifted by your late grandfather, an important family heirloom. Every night before bed you would take it off and set it on your bedside table, but on the day that the boys left, it was gone. 

The pain of losing the ring and Marc at one go was too much for your teenage self to handle and you had cried for weeks. Now here it was, dangling from Marc’s gold chain, both of your cherished possessions back with you again. 

You looped your finger around the ring and looked up at Marc’s eyes, demanding an explanation. Your questioning glare almost faltered as you met his now sad eyes.

“The day before I was drafted, I came to see you, to say goodbye, but you were asleep. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye, so I kinda just took your ring, you know, to have a piece of you with me.” Marc stumbled over his words, his usually authoritative voice dropping to a whisper as he got to the last part of his sentence. 

He wanted to remember you. 

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you searched Marc’s eyes for anything to prove your suspicions wrong and all you found was a look of yearning. You lifted a hand to his jaw, caressing his sharp jaw with your thumb and he leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering close. 

“How long?” you whispered. 

You knew what you were meaning to ask and he knew exactly what you wanted to know.

“For as long as I can remember, I always knew I was born to be yours, Y/N.” he whispered, opening his big brown eyes.

His honey-like voice filled your ears with one of the most beautiful melodies on the planet as he said it. 

Slowly, Marc leaned in and your breath hitches as you brace yourself for what was about to happen, when suddenly the door swings open for the second time in the evening. 

The both of you turned to see Gina standing there staring with her eyes and mouth wide open. You almost lost your head at the comical expression that adorned Gina’s face as you shifted your hips for Marc to let go, but his grip on your hips only tightened.

“Marc, let go.” You leaned in and whispered in his ear, caressing his jaw slightly again. 

He snapped out of his daze and dropped his hands.

The both of them stared at each other like deer caught in headlights and you took your chance to silently slip past the both of them, trying hard to ignore the familiar tingling at the bottom of your abdomen that Marc left you with. 

You quickly mumbled your byes to everyone and got into your car. You tried shutting your eyes but all you could see and feel was flashes of him, his chiseled jaw, his big hands on your hips, his soft breath fanning your lips. 

You thought about your little ring hanging from his chain and how all these years he’s had it with him. You sat there in the car for a while, taking in slow deep breaths, trying to calm yourself and tame the creature that was itching to get loose. 

You thought about going back, dragging him home with you to settle your differences and get back to what really mattered. You wanted to release years of pent up pain and anger that he had accumulated in you and you wanted whatever he had just said to you to be oh so true. 

But for some reason you couldn’t. You just couldn’t.

“Fuck this.” You mumbled and started the car. 

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc’s thumb caressed your jaw as you stare in wonder and amazement at his heavenly face. You tucked a hand under his cheek that lay on the pillow beside you and he brushed his thumb across your bottom lip. You let a small desperate whimper escape your throat as his hand left your face. Marc shifted closer to you and you tipped your head back, exposing your neck as your fingers slid into his soft messy curls. 

His large hand found its way under the sheets to grip your hips as he pressed soft kisses onto the little spot on your neck that made you melt into his touch and tug his hair a little harder. 

“There, you like that don’t you, angel?” Marc’s voice shifted to a deeper, cooler tone that makes you shiver. Your jaw slacked slightly and your eyes shut slowly. Any coherent thoughts you had in your mind trailed and faded instantly. 

His hands moved lower, guiding your leg over his body, which you gladly obeyed. His hand then slides upward, under your loose nightshirt to cup your bare tit. His talented fingers gently twist your already sensitive nipple as he bites and sucks at your neck. You moan gratefully, grinding your hips to relieve the ache that had begun growing at your core. 

“Marc…”

You woke up with a start and almost sprang out of your empty bed. You looked around, confused, your mind still deep in that little dream you had about Marc Spector. You let yourself fall back down with a thump onto your pillow as your head overflowed with thoughts of Marc. You closed your eyes and you swore you could feel him there with you and you clung to the imaginary feeling of his soft lips and hard hands on your hot skin.

It didn’t take long for the thoughts to jumble into messy waves as you incoherently slipped your hand under the waistband of your sleep shorts. 

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc’s POV

All Marc could see was you. Your beautiful deep brown skin, the feeling of your gentle touch against him, the far away sparkle in your eye. You both were in Steven’s flat in a jumble of limbs and Marc couldn’t believe his luck. 

“Finally.” He thought as he pulled your leg over his own hips. 

Your mouth dropped open and he heard his name being uttered in the most sinful way possible as he continued his careful and calculated ministrations on you. To his awful luck, the second he heard his name, he found himself being rudely awoken by a loud cackle. 

Marc’s mercenary instincts kicked in and he flung himself off his bed, landing ungracefully onto his face as his ankle was still tied tightly to his bed post. He stayed on the floor, utterly defeated as he heard gleeful laughter come from his head mates and the ancient moon god. 

“Never in all of my existence have I had this much of a laugh.” Khonshu boomed and Marc looked up just in time to see him dabbing tears off his bird skull. 

Jake and Steven were still rolling around with uncontrollable fits of laughter, clinging to each other in the head space as they watched their alter angrily pull the restraints of his leg. 

Marc rubbed his nose that had unfortunately taken the brunt of his fall and he padded slowly back to his bed, slouching like a small beaten up puppy. He looked out the window to see that the sky was still dark and the beautiful full moon was out, dancing with the stars in the sky.

“What the fuck were you guys up to?” He yelled over their laughter.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, my knight. I may have just sent her the same dream.” Khonshu chuckled, his blank eyes falling to the prominent tent in Marc’s sweatpants. 

“I directed the little dream, of course.” Jake smirked.

“The restraints were my idea!” Steven piped up.

Marc groaned and fell back onto his bed, his nose slowly healing with Khonshu’s powers. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as Khonshu’s voice rang in his head, more coherently this time. 

I may have just sent her the same dream.

“YOU SENT HER THE SAME DREAM?”

☾ .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Marc thrummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his car, waiting for the traffic light to turn green. He was on his way to your house to apologize. To tell you that he didn’t mean to freeze yesterday at Gina’s intrusion, that he really wanted to call you, to continue to tell you how he felt, and finally to explain to you why it took him so long to come to his senses and admit his feelings for you. 

Why didn’t he just go last night? Why did he decide to leave the matter at hand to be dealt with at a more civilized hour? He wanted to be a gentleman for once. You are poise, grace and beauty, just like a queen, energy he definitely wasn’t used to receiving. He was a knight, a knight that served his country and then a powerful moon god to the point that it almost cost him everything. He was violent, merciless, ruthless and every cell in his body screamed at him, telling him that he didn’t deserve you. 

Marc looped his finger around the tiny ring that hung on his chain. His mind flashed to all the times he was close to death, or close to being captured by the enemy, how he would clutch the ring with such vigor, clinging to the very last lifeline that kept him from losing everything. He would hold that once piece of you almost like a promise, a promise that everything would be alright in the end.

For the fifth time in the morning he looked in the rear view mirror of his car to ask for reassurance from his alters. Steven and Jake had quietened down and were now smiling gently and making sure that Marc was comfortable with the next direction he was going to take with you. 

A generous bouquet of Casa Blanca Lilies sat on the seat beside him, its fragrance dancing through his car, a little peace offering that was suggested and sponsored by Jake. 

Marc was rudely pulled out of his thoughts by the crude ringing of his phone. He cringed at the sound but immediately went into survival mood when his eyes read the caller id. His fingered fumbled as he shakily answered your call. 

“Marc… Marc please.” your strained moans floated out of the speaker, constricting Marc’s lungs before he could even try to utter a greeting. 

For a few seconds, all Marc could see was white. Dizzily, he realized that all the blood in his body rushed south. The only thing he could pick up on perfectly was your whines, moans and please. He glanced up to the rear view mirror to see a shocked Jake and Steven staring back with their mouths hanging open. 

All thoughts of being a gentleman flew out of the proverbial window as Marc hastily ended the call and gripped onto the steering wheel. It was finally time for him to take matters into his own hands and break the ice that had been forming. 

Your POV

You were jolted up by the sound of the door bell ringing. For the second time today you had no idea where you were and you quickly slipped out of bed and swayed towards the entrance of your apartment, still drunk on the aftermath of your little escapade. Incoherently, you swung the door open only to be face to face with Marc Spector. 

Your mouth dropped open in response and you scanned his form. You almost gasped at the beautiful bouquet of lilies he was holding but you managed to drag your eyes away from it just in time.  He looked absolutely delectable in his black shirt and slacks but what intrigued you was that his eyes were a shade darker than usual, with a hint of emotion that you could not read. They bored into yours as if he was reading your mind and you felt your face heat up. 

“Spector! I wasn’t expecting you.” you exclaimed, briskly trying to flatten your bird's nest esque hair and pulling your top so that it was covering your mid section. 

Marc raised an eyebrow at you as you quickly made space for him to step in. You watched on with a dazed expression on your face as he made himself comfortable on the couch, dropping the bouquet of flowers he was holding beside him. All this while, he stayed silent and his eyes never left your for a second. He tipped his head towards the empty end of the couch and you soon found yourself sitting at the edge with your hands in your lap. 

“Want a drink?” you asked quietly.

“Just dropped by to ask a tricky little question.” he shook his head and finally said, his voice as cool and metallic as the dream you had. “Hope I was not interrupting anything.”

You managed to summon the willpower to not drool like a saint bernard on crack as you tried to form words in your head. 

“N-not at all.” you were embarrassed with how small your voice sounded and you averted your eyes from his harsh eye contact. 

Marc cleared his throat, spreading his knees apart and leaning back onto the couch, as he eyes you, his face still void of any emotion. You swear you could feel yourself melt under the power of his gaze.

“Just to be clear, we’re just…”

“Friends.” you automatically whispered, your eyes widening with your false statement.

“Yea?” Marc questioned, his lip twitching with a ghost of a smirk etched upon it. “Come on, sit closer to me, I won’t bite.” he continued, dragging his large palm across the empty space beside him. 

Won’t bite yet by the looks of it.

You shook your head to get rid of the filthy thought and scooted closer to Marc. To your utter astonishment, you suddenly felt Marc’s strong grip around your waist and you were hoisted into his lap. You felt like a doll in his arms, you didn’t know what else to do but to cling onto his shirt. He adjusted you around him, letting your legs fall to his side as the plump of your ass sat perfectly on his vast thighs. 

You were breathing heavily and you realized that you had your eyes squeezed tightly shut. You wrenched them open and searched Marc’s face, not believing that you had the chance to observe it from such a close proximity. You tried your best to drink up every single detail as you resisted the urge to kiss every single curve and dimple on his god-like face.

Just like in your dream, Marc leaned into you and nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, making your breath hitch. One of his hands smoothed up your back and cradled the back of your neck while the other gripped tightly on your hip, thumb rubbing small inconsistent circles right above the band of your shorts. 

“If we’re just friends, then what were you up to just now, my lying angel?”

TAGGING: @wordacadabra @paymeinkash @ahookedheroespureheart @swiggy-needs-mental-help @mintpurplemnm @soumya-13 @violet-19999 @dystopian-reverie @softieekayy 

Let me know if you want to be tagged for the next one <33 reblogs are appreciated.

[octahedral-chaos]

Remember that Angel in a dress pic I uploaded ages ago??

Well, your question there about whether her dress was inspired by Indian clothing got me Thinking™, and I want to do an actual design for her for Eclipsed that pulls inspiration from that more deliberately.

I'm planning to pull some inspiration both from Indian clothing and from Native American clothing, since both were in the back of my mind when I originally drew that, but I want it to actually be more intentional and deliberate this time around.

Do you have any recommendations on what elements to borrow, or what/where I should look to for reference? (Cuz google can be... ahem, unreliable, if I don't give it just the right terms. ChatGPT is marginally better, but still). Really any advice on the subject, since I'm much less familiar with it and I don't have a great grasp for filtering out good vs bad references.

(Also, please bonk me if this comes across as rude or inappropriate, I was...not sure how to phrase this.)

Okay so since I'm Desi, I'm going to talk about East Indian wear. But for Native American stuff... that's a tiny bit iffy I believe, as there are many groups and... Well... I'm not well versed in it so I'll allow any indigenous peeps here to chime in with advice.

Okay so first thing first, types of Indian clothes.

There's the most common ones: Saris!

They're basically a really long cloth that is wrapped around the body. They're usually a lot of different styles, and the most common way to wear them is to wrap them around the waist, then drape one end over the shoulder. They also come in a lot of colours too!

They are also worn with a blouse, and may have mirrors and embroidered patterns on them.

Also red or pink saris are used for weddings... so please keep that in mind.

Next up, Salwar Kameez

These are basically a combination of several clothing articles. Comprising of the salwar (pants), kurta (blouse) and sometimes dupatta (Basically a scarf or shawl).

Salwars tend to be baggy. The Churidaar, however, is fitted. Both are used for casual wear I believe.

There are others, but these are the ones I'm most familiar with (Plus I assume that you might want traditional Feminine wear... so for more references to basic types of clothing, here's the Wiki page)

So for our favourite Angel here, we could use a sari, as the blouse can be backless, which we could easily incorporate the wings here! Plus it seems pretty easy for a starfolk with a large halo and wings to put on and off. Plus, many of the fancier Indian wear tend to have mirrors (AKA little gems of sorts) and embroidery attached to them.

Indian embroidery styles tend to vary a LOT, and can be extremely complex too. The basic pattern seems to be a lot of dots, squares and triangles, with combination and such being very common.

Hope this was helpful, although this might be worded weirdly. It was really fun to look at cultural stuff in a new light in all honesty.

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - XIX

Celestia has a cruel sense of humor. He’s always known this, ever since his days as a student. But a soulmate? Really? Dottore/Female Reader Soulmate AU. Lore speculation, interpretations, etc. AO3 Chapter is Here.

You were a long way from the main road.  Nothing here looked familiar at all and despite the recognizable smells and sounds, you truly had no idea where you were.

It all started with a game of hide and seek, you recalled.  You were out for a weekend to the countryside on the border of Sumeru with the rest of your class, a momentary reprieve to let all of you have some fun after your latest recital.  You hid with the rest of your classmates but at some point you stopped hearing them and no one else came looking for you.

It wasn’t entirely surprising.  You had friends, yes, but that loyalty only extended so far.  Outside of the classroom, outside of confinement to your instrument section, everything was fair game. 

You sighed.  Even if you wanted to go back to the big house, you couldn’t; you wouldn’t know the first direction to go in.  

So instead, you followed the sun, heading what you presumed was west.  Eventually you came upon a creek that led out to a larger stream.  The grass was greener here, softer too.  You heard a snap nearby and nearly jumped when you caught sight of a kid, not much older than yourself, stumbling out of the woods on the other side of the stream.  Turquoise hair, dusted with leaves, and eyes so red you first thought he might be sick.  He was dressed in what you had recently learned was a salwar kameez; loose trousers and a long tunic.  

You received a harsh glare as he brushed the leaves from his hair.

“Who are you?  Another person to throw stones at me?”

His words were venomous, defensive, and the look in his eyes made you take a step back.  You’d done nothing wrong to warrant such a reaction.

And then you noticed the cuts and the bruises across his face and palms.  Crimson eyes watched you as he rinsed his hands in the stream, wincing at the wounds.

“If you aren’t here to stone me, then perhaps you’re here to take me back so the village leader can finish what he started?  So you can be rid of the heretical monster once and for all?”

You shook your head, too stunned to speak.  Had he really just been harmed by his whole village?

“Are you mute?” he snapped.

“No, I’m not mute,” you threw back.

His smile was sharp, almost cruel.  “You talk funny.  Where are you from?”

The other child tore the edge of his tunic, using the strip to wrap his hand.  He seemed practiced at such things, as if he had tended his own wounds before.  You wouldn’t have known the first thing except for washing the cut.  Usually your parents and the teachers took care of such matters.  Your fingertips ached at the sight, remembering how easily you used to cut open your own skin when you played for too long.

“Fontaine.”

His eyes lit up.  “Really?  What’s it like there?”

“Kinda dirty and super smelly,” you admitted.  “The sky isn’t as blue as it is here.”

“Do you have machines?  Robots?  Is it true that you get around in carriages and wagons that can fly?”

He seemed eager to know, his pain all but forgotten at the mention of your homeland.

“The rich people do, I’ve never ridden one.  We have factories and those use machines to make stuff.”

“Tch.  What’s the point of all of those machines if you don’t get to use them?”

“They make things easier?” You shrugged, at a loss for words.  No one ever really taught you why machines were important, just that they existed and that you needed to stay away from them.

You watched as the boy’s attention was drawn from you to something else.  He seemed to be talking but there wasn’t anyone or anything near him.  

“Ararycan, what do you think?”

An imaginary friend, maybe?

You looked up at the sky.  The sun was still pretty high in the sky and you couldn’t have been that far from the big house.  Maybe you could ask him for directions and be on your way.  You didn’t want anyone to worry more than necessary.  Would he even know the place you were staying?

You were snapped out of your thoughts again, the boy’s voice eager.  

“Do you want to see a really cool machine?”

“I should really get back–”

“It’s way better than anything Fontaine has!”

He was so excited, as if he hadn’t been hurt, and your heartstrings tugged.  It would be nice to have a friend in Sumeru.  And he seemed kind enough, if a bit odd.  His smile was soft, happy.

“Is it far?” you asked.

“You probably passed it, it’s on your side of the water.  I’ll show you!”

“As long as it’s not all that far.  My school is staying over the border, there’s a really big house, and I wandered too far…I don’t know how to get back.”

As you spoke, the boy easily navigated the stream and the slippery rocks dotting its surface, hopping across.  He must do it a lot, you realized.

“Oh, that place,” he said, his tone flat.  “What I want to show you is on the way.  Ararycan and I can get you back.”

“Arary–” the word felt slippery on your tongue and you frowned.

“Ara-ry-can,” the boy enunciated and then pointed to his side.  “He’s an Aranara.”

“Aranara?  What’s an Aranara?”

It was the boy’s turn to be confused, his nose scrunched.

“You…you don’t know what an Aranara is?”

“No, we don’t have them in Fontaine.”

“Fontaine is weird,” he said at last before he turned and began walking the way you originally came.  “Are you coming or what?”

You chased after the boy, catching up in no time.

“What’s your name, anyway?” you asked as you trekked through the grass, offering your name in exchange for his.

He repeated your name with ease, acknowledging that he’d heard it correctly.

“I’m Zandik.”

His name was burned into your mind, along with his joyous, infectious smile.

____________________

“You cannot just—”

“I think you’ll find I can,” you retorted, your voice firm.  “The terms of the patronage with your family were very specific.  I cannot and will not be prevented from seeking employment and leaving if I find an opportunity that is to the benefit of myself.  I have that freedom, monsieur.   I am merely extending the courtesy of notice.”

Your eyes fell upon the lawyer at your patron’s elbow, who could only affirm what you said and cite the exact clauses of the contract.  No laws were broken; the contract was upheld.  Legally , he could do nothing to prevent you from leaving.

“And you find that performing on behalf of the government, serving as nothing more than propaganda, to be an opportunity?”

“That is for me to decide.  No one else.”

He chuckled and leaned back in his seat, fingers playing with his signet ring.  You hated that thing.  You could still feel the bruise it left on your skin.

“What a shame.  When you first arrived, I thought you might be a permanent fixture of this house.  But you are right, I cannot stop you nor prevent you from leaving,” he spoke mildly.  “The appropriate papers will be drawn up and left for you to sign while I am in Court tomorrow.  You may leave after they are done.  You will not be receiving the rest of your stipend for the month.”

“Oui, monsieur.”

“Get out.”

You bowed and took your leave, releasing your breath only when you reached your room at the top of the stairs.  Your Geo Vision was gripped tight in your folded hands, your knuckles white and the metal setting pressing hard into your fingers.  Packing was easy; you owned little.

The next morning, you scrawled your name across a nondisclosure agreement and a waiver, both of which the lawyer filing them assured you were standard for these arrangements.  You doubted that, given some of the clauses buried in each of them, but held your tongue.  They were not worth the fight, not when a new life was so close.

Despite the low smog creeping up from the lower districts, the first breath of air you took outside was the sweetest one you’d taken in years.  They only seemed to get sweeter with the closer you drew to your new destination.

____________________

“It’s not much farther!”

Your legs were more than ready to give out.  They’d long since turned to pudding.  Why did it have to be this far from the city?

Zandik’s enthusiasm could not be curbed, even by time, you noted.  He was much taller, a little less gangly (although not by much), his smile now capable of charming those who saw it.  The young man didn’t much seem to care, nor notice, the way the other students looked at you as you waited for him in the Akademiya’s foyer.  He only had eyes for you, despite years of distance, of existing only as a piece of paper and strokes of ink.

“You hold a heavy instrument for a living, mulahin.  How are you tired?” 

His teasing certainly hadn’t stopped by any means, either.

You didn’t deign to answer, saving all of your energy for making it up the rest of the narrow, winding path.  When you were almost there, Zandik reached back and pulled you up the last narrow step to the summit of the hill.  His crimson eyes danced with glee, his smile wide.

“We’re now officially in three nations at once,” he remarked, his gaze falling onto the nearby Chasm, before he turned and pointed to Fontaine, the large waterfall of the main city far off in the distance.  “Quite the trip from Sumeru City but from here, the view is priceless.”

You could hardly refute him.  From here, you could see Sumeru City and the Tree in which the city made its home, Avidya Forest surrounding it; the autumnal spiral of the Chasm and its mine, with a glimpse at Liyue Harbor’s tallest rooftops; and the glittering lights of Fontaine and the tiers of waterfalls the Lochfolk called home.  You’d never seen such a thing before.  You’d hardly seen anything other than Fontaine and in the past few months, all you’d known was your patron’s city manor, cold and imposing.

A foot in all three nations.

“It’s stunning, Zandik.”

“Isn’t it?”

You glanced at him to find him watching you as he laid out the blanket for the picnic, as if he was memorizing your features.  Heat crept up your neck and into your cheeks and you were thankful for the golden hue of sunset to hide whatever flush you might have.  

Most of the food provisions had been purchased, rather than prepared by hand; you hadn’t had the time to do anything and Zandik freely admitted it was better that he not try.  You didn’t mind, since either way it meant new food and getting to know your friend’s culture a little more closely.  

“Private patronage sounds like a dream,” Zandik said, polishing off the last of his shawarma wrap.  “You’re beholden to no one but your patron and essentially left to do as you wish as long as other requirements are met.  No academic board lording over you, no antiquated and ridiculous policies…it must help with composing, no?”

“I suppose.  I still have private sessions with a tutor and I’m not ready for more formal performances other than dinner parties with family just yet.  I feel like a show dog or a special project, brought out only to impress and then shoved back in the closet until they have use for me.”

Zandik raised his eyebrows quickly, as if to gesture, If you say so.  It was far more complicated and came with so many red strings attached that your head spun.  Now was not the time to explain such things and it was better, perhaps, to spare him that burden.

You wished your heart wouldn’t squeeze every time you looked at him.  It felt as though time itself stopped and the breath you were about to take was being ripped from your lungs every time you caught each other looking.  Your arms brushed and neither of you moved, not until your hands touched as you both reached for the last remnants of the baklava and found only one another’s fingers.

His touch was quickly replaced with the last half of the flakey pastry with a last brush of a finger: a truce.

By then, the sun had long since set and the stars revealed themselves, shining bright against the blanket of the night sky.

“In some stories, stars are the fruit of Irminsul,” Zandik murmured.  “Fate is literally tangled into the structure of the world, inescapable.”

In a nearby patch of dirt, he drew a tree, and then a half-circle, the branches dipping into the curved line.  

“All anyone ever says is that fate is written in the stars.  But if the stars are fruit on the branch of a tree…”

He erased a few lines and redrew them in different positions.

“It stands to reason that, with pruning and trimming and graphing, one could grow their own fate, will it in a different direction.  Cultivated by one’s energy and time rather than left to the whims of the gods.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of fate?  If we have the free will to change our destiny, isn’t our destiny simply what we make it out to be?  And who’s to say that the stars aren’t permanently locked in place?  That the fruit would still grow, but that no matter the way we trim or graph a branch, the same fruit is still grown?”

Zandik laughed softly.  “If it were so easy to figure out, everyone would do it.  But I firmly believe that fate can be changed, rewritten, perfected .  In the same way that humans can be refined and enhanced, just as machines can, fate too can be changed…”

You watched as Zandik’s eyes shifted away from you and out towards Sumeru City and beyond, into the desert you only heard stories about.  His eyes seemed to have glazed over as he lost himself in thought.  You shifted to sit closer to him and rested your head on his arm.

“I wouldn’t change meeting you, of course,” he said.  “Nor your presence in my life.  But there are things that, no matter how I look at them, no matter the perspective, I cannot find a reason for them except an unjust fate.”

You could only bring yourself to nod, his words hitting you far deeper than you cared to admit.

____________________

The Zapolyarny Palace was intimidating, a fortress more than a palace, and the very walls seemed to be made of the very Cyro energy of the Tsaritsa herself.  Performing for Her Most Excellent and her Harbingers was both a dream come true and your greatest nightmare.  If there was one place you never expected to end up, even within Fontaine’s national orchestra, it was here .

The theatre made it difficult to see all of your guests, of course.  It wasn’t until much later that your eyes constantly fell upon a figure in white, with hair so familiar that your head hurt trying to think, and a mask not unlike a raven’s beak.  Why was he so…

“Dottore, what of…” 

You couldn’t help but notice how the figure responded to the title, arrogant and amused at the question posed to him.

A spark went off in your mind.

Of course.  One of your last dinner parties in Fontaine.  You’d met Il Dottore.

No wonder he was so familiar.

At some point during the evening, you’d wandered out into the greenhouse, unable to sleep.  Usually, the first night anywhere new was difficult; the bed was different, the schedule a bit whacky, and the food took a day to get used to.  You’d wandered only to stretch your legs but when you caught sight of the crystal structure and the backdrop of the snowy evening, you couldn’t help yourself.  Inspiration danced at your fingertips as you marveled at the beauty growing in such a barren wasteland.  Note progressions and patterns tickled your mind and you hummed to yourself as you brushed a thumb over a pink rose, its petal as soft as velvet.

“What a lovely song.”

The voice made you jump, your eyes the size of dinner plates as you searched for the source.  Your gaze landed on a figure in the doorway, white suit still immaculate and mask firmly in place.

“Lord Harbinger,” you bowed low, crossing your right arm over your chest to cover your heart.

You stood in place as he closed the distance, every step seemingly in time with your own heartbeat.  He took your hand in his own, as he had so long ago, and raised it to his lips.  Much like the last time, he did not immediately let go of your hand.  It took everything in you to keep your hand and wrist steady, being so close, so alone, with a Fatui Harbinger.

“We’ve met before,” he said at last.  He shifted his weight and pressed a finger of his free hand to his lips.  “…ah, yes, that dreadful dinner party.  You were the cellist, given no break in between songs after dinner.”

“Guilty,” you felt your face grow warm.  “That was one of my last performances in that house.”

“And now you’re traveling the world, it seems.  Your joints feel far less swollen than they did, I can only surmise you’re given proper care and rest?”

“As much as a tour schedule allows.”

He nodded, seemingly pleased at such a notion.  His eyes, although hidden by his mask, seemed to bore into you, as if analyzing you from head to toe.  The corner of his mouth twitched before he spoke again.

“If you would pardon my boldness…had we met before that?  In Sumeru?  You…look quite similar to someone I once knew…”

You tilted your head slightly, trying to place the features you could see.  The jaw was sharper, mouth a bit more firm, but the hair…no one else had hair that so closely reminded you of morning tide, of aquamarine…

Surely…

“Zandik?” you breathed, the name slipping off your tongue.

Dottore smiled and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh.  

“I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” he replied softly.  “I thought perhaps it was you when I saw you in Fontaine but your patron hardly allowed you time alone with guests for me to ask.”

“You stopped writing,” you replied, recalling the last missive you ever received.  “You were working in the desert and then…for all I knew, you were dead —”

“Zandik is, in a manner of speaking.  I couldn’t very well reach out without drawing attention to you.  That hardly seemed fair.”

Fate isn’t fair, you wanted to argue.  Life isn’t fair.  It’s not meant to be.  You cannot control everything.

Of all the things you never expected…

“Forgive me,” Dottore said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, your hand still in his.  You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, not now.  “The circumstances were not ideal and I did what I thought was best.”

“Which somehow involved becoming a Fatui Harbinger?”

You gestured with your free hand to the greenhouse and the palace attached, to his dress uniform that looked, upon further inspection, not unlike the salwar kameez you first saw him in, all those years ago.

“I fear we may not have the time for the full tale.”

“The abridged version, then.  I am owed that much.”

He chuckled softly.  “That you are, mulahin .”

You were acutely aware, now, of how little distance was between you.  The greenhouse was warmer than the rest of the Palace but somehow, he seemed warmer still.  The hand holding yours was still stroking your knuckles and fingertips, shifting between light, feathery touches and steady, certain ones.  You longed for nothing more than to see his gaze properly, to feel his eyes on you without an obstruction, to know for sure it was your Zandik you were speaking to again.

“In another life, I would think we were soulmates,” he whispered.  “Our paths seem to constantly cross…at what point will they remain on the same path?”

His breath was hot on your lips, so close that all it would take was looking up just a little more…

Your heartbeat was so loud in your own ears that you didn’t hear footsteps, nor the clearing of a throat.  Strong hands steadied you as someone said, “Lord Harbinger Dottore, pardon the intrusion, the Jester is looking for you.”

Dottore inhaled sharply, his jaw tight as he muttered an apology.  Your blood raced in your ears, your lips still parted in an expectant oh , the moment shattered before it could begin.

“We will speak before you leave Snezhnaya,” he whispered, pressing a hand to your cheek.

You leaned into the touch, savoring it before he pulled away and all you knew was agony.

____________________

“Be careful not to touch anything, please, noor ‘eini.  Several substances are not to be handled with bare skin.”

“Most of the things in this room shouldn’t be handled with bare skin nor unprotected eyes,” you replied, gaze scanning the shelves and shelves of chemical substances.

“Such as your shining brilliance and beautiful compositions?”

“Zandik.”

You received that all-too-charming smile you were so familiar with before he slid the goggles down over his eyes.  Cheeky.  He would pay for that later.

This part of his laboratory was known to a handful, including yourself; no one dared go further than necessary.  Down here, far below the Palace, he could work in peace.

“So far, everything seems to hold true to my hypothesis.  Archon Residue may truly be the answer, the missing link.  It might certainly do wonders for the strength of a Delusion…who would have thought that the very blood of the gods from the Archon War would prove this useful?”

In a far corner of the room was a pile of oozing ore, purple and pulsating.  A trail of the material, glowing and sticky, almost blood-like in its viscosity, led from the pile to the operating table.  Laid upon the surface was a puppet of Inazuman make, once ordinary.  You’d met the Balladeer before, briefly, but you’d never seen him with eyes that vibrant and bright, glowing with power far beyond mortal comprehension.

Eyes full of knowledge, of the marvels hidden in the depths of the world.

Eyes like…

Like…

The ones peeking at you from behind a bookshelf.

They were gone again before you could blink and you found yourself rubbing your eyes, doubting your vision.  Just as he was about to get back to work, Zandik stopped and pulled his goggles back up, crimson eyes full of concern.

“Oh, forgive me, you must be exhausted.  Here I am, dragging you down here when you’re probably ready to fall asleep standing up.  I only wanted to show you that the hypothesis may prove viable after all; you’re the only one I can do that with, noor ‘eini.”

You waved a hand.  “Think nothing of it, I told you I needed a break.  Is it painful, the Archon Residue?  I thought Barnabas’ patients were–”

“He didn’t refine it enough.  His samples were heavily polluted and it resulted in the entire situation with Monstadt.  Considering the Balladeer’s body is artificial, there will be far less room for such contamination.”

You nodded, smiling.  “It is promising.  I hope your efforts benefit both of you, in the end.”

“How could they not?”

Zandik covered his eyes again and set back to work, his mind already leagues ahead.  He was too occupied to see you back upstairs, as you’d expected, and thus you made the long journey to the surface alone.

When you returned to your shared private quarters, you heard a piano, the notes halting and choppy.  As you rounded a corner, you caught the sight of a child, white hair with tips turning into a light green, grass poking through the thawing ice in spring.  Wide eyes, verdant as the trees of Sumeru, watched you, full of wonder.  Memories tickled your brain, begging you to remember where you’d seen her before…

“I was hoping we wouldn’t meet this way.”

[a-simp-named-slickback]

Star-Crossed | Basim x OC | Part 1

This is the first chapter of my AC Mirage fan fiction featuring my OC Nashira, an astronomer’s daughter who Basim befriends in his youth.

Basim dashed through the streets of Abbasiyah, holding a purse of coins tight against his chest. He knew swiping money from that merchant in the bazaar was a risky move, but it was a risk he was willing to take at the time.

To the merchant, this amount of money was nothing compared to the rest of his fortune, but to Basim it could buy him food for the next couple of days, maybe even a week if he was frugal enough with it.

He panted as he ducked and dodged through the crowds. He glanced behind him, seeing the guards still hot on his trail. He had hoped to lose them by now but they persisted. At this rate he would soon tire and slow down, making it easy for them to capture him. If that happened, not only would he lose the money but his hand as well.

Basim kept his eyes peeled for any place he could hide: a dark alleyway, a crate, an abandoned home, anything. He knew Baghdad like the back of his hand. One learns a lot about a city when you’re always running away from someone. Soon the courtyard of the House of Wisdom came into view with its luscious gardens and crowds of scholars providing ample places to hide. As he sharply turned a corner his eyes landed on an open window with thin curtains billowing in the breeze. Without thinking, he bolted for the opening, jumping inside.

He landed with a huff, looking behind him to see if they followed. A barrage of footsteps ran past, growing fainter with each step until Basim could barely hear them anymore.

He let out a breath “One step ahead, as usual.” Basim thought to himself as he slipped the purse into his satchel. Now that that was over, Dervis would be expecting him for work soon. He’d need to head back to Anbar before it got dark, and Basim was a long way from home. He turned on his heel to dash away for good.

Just as his heartbeat returned to normal, he felt himself collide into something with an impact strong enough to send him straight to the floor. A thud rang out in the area, and Basim quickly scurried to the nearby wall where the window was. He looked up to see what, or rather who he bumped into, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket when he spotted a girl staring wide eyed back at him.

A girl, who with one scream, could summon the guards.

With a gasp, she quickly stood up, backing away from Basim. Her golden brown eyes bore into his. She looked quite young, if he had to guess she was somewhere near his age. Judging by the brilliant blue salwar kameez and the fine silk scarf around her neck, they lived very different lives. A number of scrolls and books were scattered around her, no doubt having fallen because of their collision.

He looked around to figure where he was. In his haste to get away from the guards, he hadn’t realized he’d made his way to the library. There were rows and rows of bookshelves and desks surrounding him. It didn’t seem like anyone else was in this room except for the two of them. That was good; even if she did scream he’d have time to dash before she could point him out.

Suddenly a guard came to the window, “You, girl! Have you seen a boy running through here?” He asked her.

Basim shrank from where the guard was, hoping he wouldn’t look down and see him cowering below. Still, he instinctually positioned himself so he’d be ready to run at a moment's notice if he needed to.

The girl glanced down at Basim, “I…um…” She watched as he silently pleaded with her to not tell the guard his whereabouts, but Basim saw the uncertainty in her eyes.

This part of the library held old tomes from scholars in the past, including texts from around the known world requested by the Caliph himself. Therefore, this room in the library wasn’t open to everyone. They had to have special permission from the head Scholar, which this boy clearly didn’t have.

Still, he was just a boy. A frightened looking one at that.

“Please,” He mouthed to her, as if to beg her to keep quiet about his whereabouts.

She looked up at the guard and cleared her throat, “I saw him go that way.” She pointed in the opposite direction and the guard darted that way in an instant.

The girl craned her head out the window, making sure he was long gone. She crouched down to meet Basim’s eyes, “It’s safe to come out now.” She said just above a whisper, as if she were scared the guard could somehow hear her.

Immediately, he let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding in. That's when eyes landed on the scattered books and scrolls along the floor, no doubt a result of his colliding with this girl. Feeling guilty, he crawled forward to gather them for her.

He cleared his throat, “Thank you…for not giving me away.” He said, looking up at her.

The girl gathered some books herself, “There is no need to thank me. I’m happy to help.”

The two of them carefully gathered the books as a silence hung over them. Every now and then

Basim would steal a glance at the girl next to him. The evening sunlight cast its golden glow on her, illuminating her soft features. Scattered across her face were a series of moles, the most prominent one just above her left eyebrow. Her dark curls billowed out of her scarf, framing her full cheeks.

She glanced his way as well and Basim quickly averted his gaze, realizing he had been staring at this girl for some time. He only hoped she could not see the redness spread across his cheeks. He shook off the feeling, choosing to instead turn his attention to the writings he held in his hands. He read the titles of some of the books as they both stood up.

He gasped when he saw a familiar name, “These are all writings by al-Khwarizmi?” he asked her.

The girl nodded, “I was just grabbing these for my father. al-Khwarizmi was his mentor. Do you know of him?” She asked.

“Know of him? I knew him,” He grinned, “When I was little I used to sneak into this very library and he would teach me mathematics and astronomy.” Basim smiled as fond memories of his time with that old man filled his mind again.

The girl's eyes widened, “Really? That's amazing!” She marveled, “What was he like?”

“Brilliant,” Basim answered, “Not very patient when I made mistakes, but he was kind nonetheless.” He looked down and realized he was still holding on to her books.

He cleared his throat, “Here.” He handed the girl her things, feeling a tingle shoot through him when his fingers touched hers.

He felt it again when she grabbed his arm, leading him out of the library and down the hall.

“You must meet my father!” She insisted, “He would love to meet another student of al-Kwarizmi.”

Basim stumbled behind her, not knowing what he got himself into, but nevertheless deciding to go along for the ride.

____________________________________________________________________________

Moment’s later, Basim found himself gazing at the ceiling of the room he entered. The girl brought him to what looked like an observatory, judging by the dome shaped ceiling with beautifully intricate designs of celestial bodies adorning it.

All around the room were star maps and other drawings. There were telescopes, compases, and many other tools along the walls, as well as large stacks of books messily gathered in the corners. There were two desks: one was full fo papers and scrolls with various compases and writing tools scattered around it, and the other was neatly organized with an large older man sitting there.

The girl gently sat the books and scrolls on a nearby table, scurrying her way over to the bearded man near the center of the room, “Baba, Baba!” she tugged on his sleeve to get his attention, though he seemed very deep into his work.

“One moment azizati, just need to figure out this calculation…” The older man stroked his graying beard, then fiddled with a nearby counter, “This doesn’t seem right…” He muttered to himself.

Basim watched as the girl drummed her fingers on the table, patiently waiting as her father wracked his brain over the mathematical formula. She sighed, looking over his shoulder at his work. She pointed to the paper, “You forgot to carry the two here, Baba.”

The man blinked, then threw his head back in a hearty chuckle that seemed to nearly shake the walls around them, “So it seems I have! Clever girl,” He patted her on the head, “Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

The girl motioned in Basim’s direction, “I want you to meet someone! This is-” She paused, “Oh, how rude of me. I haven’t even asked you your name.” She said, seeming embarrassed.

Basim waved her off, “It is alright. I am Basim.” He said, slightly bowing his head towards the two.

“It is nice to meet you, Basim. I am Nashira, and this is my father Khalid ibn Mohammed, the head astronomer here at the House of Wisdom.” she said proudly.

Basim felt something brush against him, causing him to look down to see a fluffy white cat rubbing itself against his legs. The cat had big green eyes and a pendant around its neck with a moon design on it. He crouched down to pet the creature, delighting in its soft purring. He quite liked cats, as there were many stray ones roaming around the streets. However this cat was definitely a purebred unlike the ones he found in Anbar.

Nashira giggled, “And that is our cat, Halah!” She turned to her father, “Baba, Basim was a student of al-Kwarizmi. And we just happened to…run into each other in the library. Isn’t that something?”

Basim was thankful she embellished that bit of the story.

Khalid’s eyes widened with surprise, a trait Basim could already tell his daughter inherited from him, “Mashallah!” He quickly rose from his seat and made his way to the young man, wrapping his arms around him and lifting him off the ground, “Any friend of my old mentor is a friend of mine.”

Basim squirmed a bit in the hold, but smiled nonetheless “Nice to meet you too, ustadi.” He strained to say.

Khalid gently set Basim down, dusting his shoulders as he let out another hearty chuckle, “I wish we could talk more, but I have a lecture to give. Please, make yourself at home here, my daughter can show you any studies you’d like to see about astronomy while you are here.”

Basim nodded, waving to the man as he left for his lecture. Nashira made her way beside him, now holding Halah herself.

She chuckled, “My Baba has never met a stranger,” She let Halah jump down from her arms, motioning for Basim to take a seat at the nearby table as she rummaged through a cabinet.

“I can tell,” He coughed out, rubbing his chest as he still felt the hug Khalid gave him. “How is it you have not met al-Kwarizmi? Seeing as your father is an astronomer and all.” He asked.

Nashira exited the cabinet, holding a plate of dates and a vase of water that she set on the table, “I was too young to come to the House of Wisdom back then. Baba hired a Nanny to take care of me while he studied under him, and once I was old enough I came here to study here under my father.”

Basim nodded as he made sense of what she was saying. Seeing as she was raised by a nanny in her childhood, he figured it was safe to assume her mother died when she was a baby. It made sense then why she got to study in the House of Wisdom if she was under her father’s care.

Basim nodded, “I see, that must have been after al-Kwarizmi passed. I was wondering why I had never seen you here before,” He graciously took the cup of water she poured for him, “I’m sure I would have remembered a girl like you.”

Nashira gave him a cheeky smile, raising an eyebrow as she did so.

Basim flushed, realizing how he sounded.

“What I mean is, there are not many young girls like yourself in the House of Wisdom.” He quickly added, hoping his last comment didn’t come off as him being fresh.

He felt himself relax when he heard her laugh, “Calm down, Basim. I am only teasing.” She sat down on the other side of the table, reaching for a date to snack on, “But you are right about that, not many scholars devote their time to teaching girls. So I count myself lucky that my father is one. It's just me and my Baba, studying the stars.”

Halah let out a meow, jumping on the table.

Nashira petted the cat, “And you too, Halah.” She gave the cat a date as well.

Basim smiled, “That sounds like quite the life.” He said, taking a sip of water and realizing how thirsty he had been. He then reached across the table to scratch Halah under the chin, smiling when she purred. Perhaps in a different life he’d be doing much the same with his father, learning the ways of an architect.

Some time passed as they enjoyed their snack together before Nashira spoke again. “Now if you don’t mind me asking, why were those guards chasing after you?” She placed her chin in her hand, waiting patiently for him to answer her.

Basim gulped. He should’ve known better than to think he’d get off completely Scott free.

“Well…you see I was…” He tried to think of any possible explanation that wouldn’t make him look bad but came up with nothing. He slumped, feeling it best to be honest, “I was caught stealing in the market.”

Nashira’s eyes widened, “Stealing? Why would you do that?”

Basim slumped even more, feeling shame set in.

Nashira’s eyes looked over Basim, taking in his appearance. His clothes were old and tethered, some of his garments looked worn beyond repair. Her eyebrows furrowed, feeling ashamed of herself for asking such a question.

“Nevermind, you do not need to answer that.” She told him.

Basim felt a bit of relief. Still, he could tell she pitied him, which didn’t make him feel much better.

He noticed the setting sun from the open window. Dervis would be expecting him soon and he’d need to leave if he wanted to get back to Anbar.

He stood up, “It is getting late, I really must get going,” He stood up from his chair, “Thank you again for helping me today, Nashira.”

She frowned, “You’re leaving already?” She asked, sounding saddened by the news.

He nodded, “I have to go home. Someone is expecting me.”

She took another glance at his clothes, “Where is home for you?” She asked carefully.

Basim bit his lip, “...Anbar.” He hesitated to say.

Anbar, the slums of Baghdad. Nashira had not learned much about her new friend, but with that in mind, certain things were starting to make sense. No one in their right mind would risk stealing unless they had too. Not when the punishment for stealing was losing a hand.

She gathered the remaining dates into a small pouch, “Please, take these with you.”

Basim shook his head, holding his hands in front of him in protest, “No, please, I do not want your pity.” He pleaded. The last thing he wanted was for this girl to feel sorry for him.

She tilted her head, “Pity? Baba always buys me too many dates. I never have anyone to share them with, so if you don’t take them they will just go to waste. You would be doing me a favor by taking them off my hands,” She smiled at him softly and shook the bag a little, hoping he would take them.

Basim felt the tension in his shoulders lessen. His eyes softened. Basim gave her a small smile as he took the bag of dates and placed them in his satchel. He felt his stomach grumble thinking about the sweet, juicy contents of the pouch. Nehal and the other children who worked for Dervis would love them as well.

He made his way toward the window, “Thank you Nashira. It was nice to meet you.” He said, meaning every word.

She watched as he jumped down onto a nearby ledge, then down to the courtyard below, “Come back and see me!” She called out to him.

He looked up at her, seeing her smiling face above, “I will!”

“You promise?” She asked.

“I promise!” He said back, waving as he did so. He was just about to turn around when he heard her call his name once more.

“And Basim! Next time, just use the front entrance.” She smirked.

He laughed, “I will try to remember that!”

[futuristicsaladparadise]

I made a salwar kameez and dupatta outfit for Kavi! 

I went shopping at the local thrift stores on Thursday and found the fabric in a back corner. The tunic and purple fabric of the pants came from a couple of cut down sarees, and the green was a pillowcase. I’m really pleased with how all of it came out. 

The fabric for the pants was a set of 9″x7″ squares, not quite long enough for ankle length legs, so I had to sew them together. Actually, I messed up the first version so badly, and had so little of the fabric, that I had to unpick every single stitch I had done, then re-cut and sew them anew. 

Now they’re done, and will be ready for Kavi when she arrives, which according to FedEx, should be Monday!!

Here’s Carrie making sure everything fits.