#musings. ( THOSE WHO SHINE BRIGHTEST )
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Cinderella; Pantalone x reader
Warnings: an exuberant amount of cussing, mentions of death, and the upperclass
Word count: 2500+
The sound of shoes clacking on the pavement was the first sign you were no longer as alone as once thought. A solid click, the pristine shine of black leather, and a silver buckle that somehow shined even in the cold night air when the brightest light near you was a streetlamp at most ten feet away. The fact there wasn't a very particular someone's insignia ingrained in that black already felt like a miracle given the man's pride. He did so love to adorn himself in finery.
“Regrator.”
“Miss (y/n), a pleasure as always.” He didn't even pretend to not notice your current state, his eyes might as well be full of mirth as he gazed down at you sitting on the steps leading up to a cursed banquet you had to attend. The event was already in full swing yet here you sat outside as if the clamor of voices and music playing couldn't be heard. “I hope you have not gotten yourself into another problem.”
Teasing now, of all times, really?
It was already fully evident he knew what was going on, how could he not? A shoe in your hand a broken off heel in the other made it clear there was in fact a problem. The contraption had wronged her. “I think it's rather obvious, is it not? Or do you need a new prescription for those glasses of yours?”
He didn't even bother to give an interesting reply back as he simply laughed off the jab like it was water on a ducks back. Something that wasn't event relevant enough to be addressed. “I see now, that does appear to be a problem.”
Wow. I had no fucking clue.
“Perhaps I can be of assistance to you?” His voice was musing as ever, too gentle to be real. Just the same way he acts in the middle of a business deal.
“Oh?” You looked up at him, eyes tearing off those shiny shoes you were admittedly jealous of in this moment. Any other day you might just consider spitting on them but circumstances have changed. “Tell me trousers, for amusements sake only, what could you possibly do to help me in this hour of need? Maybe you'd do the same thing Scaramouche did as he passed me by only minutes prior, telling me to walk barefoot in the snow.”
“Oh my, it would be a mad man who would dare try.” At least he understood that compared to the puppe- “Back to calling me trousers now, miss? I thought we grew past that.”
“Maybe you did.” If only the poison on your tongue was enough to sway him enough to slip off a step and fall past the railing with a nice, satisfying kurplunk. “Well seeing as my night is perfectly ruined, how has yours been going?”
"Oh, not too bad myself I must say." Pantalone's voice was calm and smooth as usual, as if nothing really affected him much. "I've been attending to a few important matters as part of my responsibilities, but now I have some free time to spend. I suppose I may have found something to do with it now."
How annoyingly easy it was for him to lie, to show no tell at all. No pinch in the eyebrow, no change in tone, not even looking else where to avoid eye contact. Truly a professional. If it weren't for the fact you had personally seen Pantalone repeatedly having to brush off the same man with a rather boring sounding business proposal you would have truly believed him. His irritation had been clear then even as that smile remained. What a talent to have, to lie easier than he breathed.
Slowly, steadily Pantalone made his was down the stairs you sat upon until he was stood before you. A kind face to be shown as he looked down at the object of your plight. “It's a rather pretty pair of shoes. A pity one of them has been torn apart. Do you think we can find you another pair in a store nearby?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I'll pass.”
It would be a fool who agrees to be in debt to the regrator, a favor or otherwise.
One of his perfectly manicured eyebrows rose as he looked down at you, almost like he was shocked at the rejection to his offer. The amusement however was clear in his face. "Is something the matter? It would be unfortunate to stay here barefoot in the cold. Though I can't say I didn't expect that answer. You are quite the character.”
“Says you. How great a character you are that your very own name is ripped from a play.”
You weren't even honored with a reply. You never are.
“Do you live nearby, miss?”
“Yeah. Maybe like ten minutes down that street,” you pointed to the left, finger blocking one of the many piles of snow on the street. “Then you- Close. I'm close by.”
Why the fuck was I telling him this?
“I see.”
With the wave of a hand covered in what had to be the finest of fabrics for gloves (probably something that's been hand spun by poor widows for years as they labor over raw cotton) and glittering silver Pantalone called over an attendant. Her short frame quickly moving over like she felt the need to be as efficient as possible. As to why? Well, the answer is obvious. You don't defy a harbinger. You don't deny them. You can only hope to please the over hyped power houses of Snezhaya, especially if one of them is your boss.
“You are far too easy to easy to read, miss (y/n).” Without so much as a glance towards this woman's way he takes something from her hand. A little bottle of sorts you can't read the label of with a red cap. That is until he moves his bejeweled fingers away to give you a chance to peek at the words printed out. “One day your pride will be the end of you.”
And I hope your end will be just as pathetic as you.
Huffing you try and ignore the savior that he's holding in his hand. Shoe glue, just what you need. “Why do you even have that?”
Not even bothering to address you Pantalone tells the attendant she's excused. The same rush as when she ran over showing as she bowed to you both. “Lord harbinger. Miss (y/n).”
And there she goes.
“Cmon slacks, gimme something I can reply to that isn't your typical droning. Otherwise I might just start mistaking your voice for those inside.” The same chatter that might as well be ringing on your ear as it grows louder and louder throughout the night. Alcohol may loosen lips, but it also apparently makes everyone too deaf to hear properly. If either of you were to go back inside surely you'd be cringing everytime someone walks by as they think it's a great idea to address someone all the way across the great hall.
“I bore you as much as ever then.” With a chuckle Pantalone holds the bottle out before you, dangling it like bait on a string, and you were the fish he was waiting for to take a bite. Warning label flashing your vision. “I could tell you how La Signora once broke her heel and simply combusted with fury. Though that wouldn't be true, she wouldn't be caught dead wearing something cheap enough to break just like that.”
Always has to have a smart reply, doesn't he? All the while you're running low on quips as this guy proves his default setting is exhausting everyone around him. The charming man one might mistake him as with a simple glance was truly such a farce. “Thanks, but I'd rather rip the boots off of some poor, unsuspecting sod then let you do something for me.”
With a click of his tongue Pantalone pulls the bottle back away from you, the shining light of hope that it was being stolen like the donations from an alms box under the nose of a priest. “Ahh yes, the fear of owing the ninth harbinger. It is a daunting cloud to loom so heavily.”
Of course it was. He may sound and look as pretty as a picture but under those silver spectacles were eyes that could only be satisfied with the sight of mora in his palm. Those that denied him such a sight had a habit of going home to a few broken objects, being randomly beaten down out of the blue on their merry way back home, and lastly disappearing in the same way your clouds of breath blown out into the cold air of the blizzard covered nation did. There was no god to pray to that could help escape him, no matter which archons name uttered.
“How about I offer you a deal,” Pantalone asked, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smirk. It was as if the very mention of any sort of ‘business’ had him rearing to go. Cocky bastard.
It's just a shame you had nothing to say. Another comment would have this back and forth going until either a: you get interrupted by one of the guests, b: he decides toying with you has lost its charm (an unlikely event but still one can dream), and lastly c: you bite the bullet and make a ten minute walk home in a broken shoe through snowy and icy streets you'd surely be slipping and sliding over. A face plant or two might just be worth it though.
“No objections then. As for our deal, I shall assist this damsel in distress with fixing her shoe and in turn you tell no one of this.” As if he was already certain you'd agree in a heartbeat, probably in his minds even with stars glittering around you like a scene from a shojo manga panel, Pantalone plucked the broken shoe and heel from your hands. “I'd say you would be getting the better end of the deal here tonight. You do need to get home, don't you?”
I do, and he knows that. Prick.
“Fine. Deal or whatever.”
The fact he didn't immediately pull out a five page contract on the spot was disappointing. Unlikely, but the thought alone would be enough to cause you to laugh if it was anyone else's presence you were in. Instead you sat back on those concrete stairs, watching as the regrator of all people slipped off his rings and placed them to the side. Doesn't want his precious getting dirty then, huh?
“So what's the real reason you have that stuff on you?”
“You truly do believe every word that slips past my lips is a lie,” He stated. Stated, not questioned. “I have found myself working in collaboration with a cobbler recently and I was given this as a free sample of sorts. You were simply lucky with the timing is all.”
Your eyes narrowed as you looked down at him, his gloved hand holding that stupid little bottle in hand as he seems to run over the nails that were supposed to keep the outsole together with ease. He seemed so calm doing this but it could all just be another facade, another act. Only he, himself, and Pantalone knew what was truly going on in that pretty head of his. “I wouldn't call breaking my shoe luck.”
“Perhaps not.”
“I never asked, just how did that attendant magically have that on hand with a wave of your- well hand.” That could of been worded a bit better. Cmon self, you're slacking here.
“Oh that? I heard of your little plight when I was inside. A noble lady with a mole over her lip, the left side, mentioned a poor miss (y/n) having tripped over her own two feet like a buffoon who then,” without missing a beat as he spoke Pantalone kneeled before you, “ran off as if a headless chicken.”
“Lovely imagery, slacks. Thank you for that.”
“I am merely repeating what I have heard for you. I wouldn't want you to go unaware of what your fellow ladies have been gossiping about this night.”
And in doing so you purposefully worded it in a way that had the intent to embarrass me. I'm not blind nor deaf but somehow he surely thinks I am both.
“Now then.” Easily he pulled you from your thoughts. Daydreaming cast aside and asunder as his hand wrapped around your ankle. The instant jolt from the movement you were spurred into meaning little as his grip tightened, not even allowing an inch of freedom. “Give the heel some time before you start walking on it, we don't need to disturb the banquet with your dramatics again.”
A part of you wanted to believe Pantalone's hand didn't feel warm because they're just as cold and dead as his heart, but the gloves he dawned and the thermal stockings you used religiously in this winter inferno were enough to say you were just being hopeful. It was better to focus on that little fact than how he was sliding that stiletto on for you. The fact he wasn't looking at your eyes could either be a blessing or make this all worse. In the very least it gave you a chance to figure out that blaming the color burning your cheeks a rosy hue on the low temperatures could be a solid enough lie he wouldn't openly question your bull.
“Now if you'll excuse me,” Pantalone said, calling your attention back up to his face and not the hand that had just let go of you. “It's about time I head back inside.”
Somehow there wasn't even a speck of dust on his knees as Pantalone stands back up, his perfect little demeanor the same as always without even a wrinkle to be had. Untouchable. Far off from everyone else around him. “I'm sure the Tsarita's little socialite has been missed.”
With a small laugh and a “precisely,” Pantalone steps around you, those same perfect condition having shoes of his hitting the steps with a satisfying click as he walked away. At least this time you weren't gazing upon them with envy. “Remember now miss, no going around gossiping about this.”
As if I'd ever.
“The less your name falls from my lips the better. You do so tend to leave a narly aftertaste. Plus, I have no intention of owing you anything.”
With one last flick of his gaze, one last shine of those spectacles under the streetlamp he looks at you. How unreadable that mask could be when he truly wished it. Maybe it's true what they say, once you wear a mask too long it becomes your face.
“Have a good night then.”
And with that, he left. The night air your only company.
Good riddance.
—-------
Except now your looking down at a pink box that had been delivered to your house this morning, only a day having gone by since that unlucky encounter with the regrator yet he chose to rub this all in your face. A stink bug of a man, truly. Only there to be a pest that's always somehow present yet you shouldn't bother to do away with. After all, there would be consequences.
So like any bug he crawled through the cracks of what is supposed to be your home. All with the ease of one delivery man and a letter with the most beautiful handwriting you had ever seen (and annoyingly written in what had to be scented ink). “I believe this means you now owe me a favor.” Signed Pantalone.
How you wanted to spit on the brand new pair of heels before you.
What a dick.
#Pantalone x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#regrator x reader#fem reader#genshin impact#hoyoverse#enemies to mild inconvenience#pantalone
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𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 & 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 : hinata shoyo.
hinata shoyo is dazzling. no matter where he goes, no matter who he's with — he always shines the brightest. he's so warm, so radiant — a star, a sun. pulling everyone around him into orbit. and you love it. adore it.
but it's also because he's so full of that fiery heat and light, that you sometimes find yourself doubting what you have with him. it's nothing he did — he's perfect, and always has been, to you — but rather, it was your own insecurities that formed out of realizing just how different you were from him.
he's outgoing no matter who he's talking to, easily blending in while still somehow standing out, and people love him — you know more than a few others that seem to adore him the same way you do.
and you, being someone of the peaceful, subdued twilight between day and night — have no idea how you ended up with someone like him.
and even more so, you have no idea how he fell for someone like you.
because he — he sparkled, and he shone, and he was everything anyone could ever want, he could have won the heart of anyone he ever wanted. he could simply ask for a heart and he’d have it handed to him on a silver platter.
and you? you don’t shine or glow. in fact, you’re a little dim, if we’re going to talk about metaphors of light. and despite how incredibly happy you are together, it sometimes gets to you.
"hey," shoyo calls you, snapping you out of your thoughts.
you look up at him, still surfacing from all your musings, tracing your gaze over his muscled form, his hair and eyes that stand out so bright, tangerine and honey against his sun-bronzed skin. he tugs at the hem of his plain white tee, patting the pockets of his navy shorts to check for his phone and wallet.
it's barely an hour since the sun rose, and you think hinata is so much brighter than the light coming through the doors and windows.
he's about to leave for another practise match, and you're seated in your shared living room, morning coffee unfinished on the table in front of you.
he’s beautiful, you think. bathed in the morning sun, there he stands at your front door. japan's pride and joy, ninja shoyo. him, falling in love with you?
he'd told you that his people back home had cried bitterly over their loss when he left, deciding to return to brazil and play for a brazillian team rather than stay with his people in japan.
he'd told you with a mischievious glint in his eyes and a rogueish smile spread across his face, and the slightest hint of a blush tinting his cheeks. "but hey, they’ll get over it! and … i came back partly so i can be with you, you know. together, like this."
and that had melted your heart. just those words had brought you home the stars and the entire sky — but you also sometimes wonder. if he stayed there, would he be happier? would he be happier if he had chosen those other things over you?
if he were with someone else?
after all, you weren't anyone special, and he wouldn't be getting anything particularly worthy from you — apart from all your love and adoration, but whether that was worthy or not wasn't for you to decide. was it?
"hey, hey?" shoyo repeats, and you blink, standing up. you walk over to him, plucking a strand of curly orange hair off his shoulder and patting the creases away from his chest. "sorry, i was just thinking."
"hm," he tilts his head to a side, picking up his sports bag and pulling it over his shoulder as he does. you know he's not convinced.
the clock ticks past 7:30 AM, and you're glad you don't have any places to be today. you're tired, and you wouldn't be able to see shoyo off like this if you were rushing around getting ready to go out.
shoyo watches you for a few seconds, brows furrowed together ever so slightly. "you okay, baby? looking a little tired. wanna come to the beach with me?"
you smile, noticing how his portuguese was still on the simpler side — and shrug your shoulders as an answer. "that'll just distract you." you tell him in japanese.
lies. nothing can distract shoyo when he's in a game.
all that'll happen is that you'll get to see him in action, eyes somehow glowing brighter than before, sun turning his skin rosy, hair getting peppered with sand as he flies up, kicking his legs back and slamming the ball across the net. an enthralling sight. and then—
"i'll give you a kiss for every point i score." he grins, taking your hand — and all of a sudden, everything you've just been thinking about stops making sense.
"mhm?" you nod, and he licks his lips, thinking. "a kiss for every point, and if my team wins — i'll take you out to eat something good. come, it'll be good for you."
"and if you lose?" you ask, and he only grins wider. "i won't. trust me."
trust you? with my life, shoyo. with my everything. the things you've been thinking about stops making sense — because hinata shoyo is dazzling. he shines bright, he's radiant and he's like the sun. and in that same sense, his passions and desires and his love — they shine, too. it's clear that he adores you as much as you adore him.
with that mutual adoration present and so tangible even to you, though you sometimes feel as if you don’t deserve it, what more was needed?
"shoyo," you still ask, because hearing it from him makes it all better. "you love me, right?"
he looks confused for a second. "yeah? i love you. i love you more than anything."
and again, he plucks out the jewels of the sky and hands them all down to you in one fell swoop, with his words that glimmer and drip with the radiant sincerity of his feelings. "huh, is this what you're thinking about? it's in your eyes, i can see it."
"what do you see?" you ask, but then you forget everything because he's gripping your hand tighter and pulling you closer, for a kiss.
"i love you, mkay? we're together. forever. you know i wanna be with you forever." he says it against your lips, and you almost taste the essence of his words. "i love you, and i'm glad to be with you."
you almost tear up, he's so sweet and so sincere, how could you ever doubt him?
how he understands what you're thinking so easily, how he says exactly what you want to hear without trying, you don't know — but you appreciate it, and you offer him a smile in return to the way he makes you feel so good, so light, inside. "i love you, too. i love you with all my heart."
"then let's go?" he steps back a little to look at you, bright orange curls framing warm, puppy eyes as he gives you a pout. “please? i wan’ you to come today.” you glance out to the street waiting outside your shared house, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and you nod. "give me a minute, i'll go change."
he gives you a grin that could harness all the power of the sun in it, letting go of you so you can go pull some better clothes on — and you catch his hand before it can fall to his side.
he turns back to you, inquiring, and you answer with a tug at his arm that lets him draw close enough for you to give him a little kiss on the cheek. "i really do love you."
and the blush that spreads across his face as you turn around and retreat to your room, is more proof that he loves you.
hinata shoyo is dazzling. he's the sun, he's the stars, he's the galaxy, and he's everything anyone could ever want. and he loves you.
loves you the way the sun carresses the moon, the way the rays of it kiss the shadows of the twilight at dawn and at dusk.
he's the pride and joy of japan, everyone loves him and he could have anything he had passion for, and anything he desired. and to him, that was to be a player of the sport that brewed and set alight his passions.
and to him, what he desired was you.
note: i was going to say it's crazy that i haven't posted much sfw shoyo content on here, but then i remembered that every time i write something like this about him it gets sooo personal 💔 this is a piece i wrote in 2021 but it comes out now because i say so ! thank you for reading !!
#₊˚ପ⊹ REKHA™.#₊˚ପ⊹ IMERA.#hinata x reader#hinata shoyo x reader#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyuu fluff#hinata fluff#hinata shoyo fluff#haikyuu drabbles#haikyuu headcanons#hinata headcanons#hinata shoyo headcanons#hinata drabbles#hinata shoyo drabbles
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𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 🪷 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋
𝐅𝐭. 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 <𝟑
Enjoyyy and don't forget to leave a feedback 👹 | My other PACs
𝐎𝐍𝐄
If a hot shot of expresso was a person. Energetic and lively. Same vibes as a workaholic dark academician. Popular, known and sarcastic. Glasses/specs and well kept hair. A dressing game so strong that turn heads and a walk that radiates power. Strong wit and even stronger way with words. They have a lot of admirers but they try to ignore all that admiration that they get, they don't find 'love' to be interesting at all, or even to be real. Very focused, driven and a social person. They keep on downplaying themselves which is what keeps them reaching for stars, in their opinion. They might not be even looking for love when y'all meet, your first meeting with them will be as cliché as it can get. One look and a conversation with you and all those love songs will start making sense to them. They might have a wounded inner child that will start to heal when you enter their life. You will be a catalyst in their transformation journey. Once you're theirs, they will let the whole world know, they will always proudly claim you to be theirs. Will give you practical solutions but only after they comfort you enough. Endless debates and movies nights with them. They will look upto you in so many ways, will make sure that you don't feel neglected or less important in any way. Quite analytical, detached and practical in front of people but with you, they are their rawest self. Coffee dates and endless future plans. Y'alls story with them will be built upon trust and communication, they might even open up to you about stuff they haven't opened up to anyone before. Wrist watches and holding hands. Whether or not you end up with this person, they will give you a new perspective of love and will erase any memory of previous lovers and heartbreaks that you may have had. They will show you love in ways that will make you question the definition of love altogether. Might be a lil freaky as well.
Plausible astrological placements: Major virgo placements in big 6. Water sun. Mercury and sun dominant. Aries placements. 1st houser. 10th houser. Earth (capricorn) rising. Earth dominant. 6th house placements. Mercury aspects with sun and venus. Jupiter dom. Sagittarius placements. Air mars. Air dominant.
𝐓𝐖𝐎
If a cup of hot chocolate after a long, tiring day was a person. Brown hair and strong physique with veiny hands. Almond like eyes which shines the brightest when they smile. They have the most dazzling smile in the room that can sweep anyone off their feet and they have the warmest hug to offer. A pretty face and a prettier heart. Flirtatious personality but lowkey a downbad loverboy/girl. This person gives me the ultimate golden retriever energy, they have the ability to turn your tears of sorrow into tears of joy in no time. A giver and a provider. Slow dances and eye contacts. They will nurture you like no other and will shower you with the kind of love that you have never experienced before. You will be enchanted from the moment you see them, they will make you experience the kind of love that you thought only existed in the fairytales. You both come from different worlds but regardless, you guys do belong together. Every action and word of theirs will speak to you, specifically screaming of how much they love you. They will listen to your each and every rant. Will smother you with love and kisses. You're their muse and heart. The type to keep your picture in their wallet/back of their phone. An ambivert who loves to party but needs their personal space. Stargazing and holding hands. Guarded and focused for the world they might be but for you, they are just a cheesy lover who's down bad in love. Constant and random declarations of love in private, not so much into PDA but enough to make everyone know that you're theirs. Will fight anyone and everything that might come between you two. A feminine type of person, if they identify as male then probably, a feminist. Will always push you towards growth and prosperity. Quite touchy and funny. The same vibes as 'paper rings' by Taylor swift, just from their pov.
Plausible astrological placements : Taurus / Libra / leo rising and/or venus. Capricorn Moon or earth moon. Water / fire mercury. Venus - pluto aspects. Neptune in the 1st house. Mercury - moon aspects. Scorpio/Capricorn sun. 3rd house placements. 7th house placements. 2nd house placements.
𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄
If 'dark red' by Steve Lacy and 'I wanna be yours' by Arctic monkeys were a person. Resting bitch face, strong aura and dark eyes. Leather jackets and fluffy messy hair. Playful gaze and an awfully attractive smirk. Cold looks, warm heart. This person reminds me of a lotus, they open up petal by petal as they get more enchanting with each petal opening up. They have walls built around them, they might be in their redemption arc period when they meet you which is why you guys might not hit it off right off the bat. Not necessarily enemies to lovers but you guys may not click initially. Rings and silver chains. Watches, bikes and books. They have a vivid perspectives of life and an aura that charms many but they only have their eyes on you. Conventionally attractive, almost vampire like beauty. The kind to gift you Handwritten confessions of love and make playlists that reminds them of you. Highkey possessive but not controlling, they'll let the world know that they are taken. Matching necklaces and unfiltered conversations. They might be skeptical in the beginning but they will get serious soon. Wants to protect you at all cost but also wants to be your little baby. Someone introverted who doesn't like to reveal too much about themself. Late night drives and stolen kisses. The type to worship the ground you walk on after they stop playfully mocking you. They see their world in your eyes, you bring out a side of theirs they never thought existed. Forehead kisses and late night conversations. They have a high sexual drive, if you're sexually active too, expect a lot of love making and random make out sessions. The type to fall too hard, wouldn't even look at anyone else as long as they are with you. Your smile, your happiness matters the most to them. You make them happy. Sunshine × grumpy and/or opposite attracts? A Hopeless romantic, for sure.
Plausible astrological placements : Water - earth dominant. 8th houser. Major Scorpio placements. Air mercury. Water rising. Gemini or air sun. Pisces or water moon. Sun - pluto aspects. Sun - rising aspects. Scorpio or fire rising. Capricorn venus. 5th house placements. 9th house placements. 10th house placements.
© Infipretty
#pick a card#pick a pile#tarot#pac#pacs#tarotblr#tarot reading#pick an image#daily tarot#tarot blog#tarot community#free readings#love pac#love reading
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Any stray Albedo hcs? 👁👁
of course . i think about him frequently.
it's a given that you're albedo's primary artistic muse. if he's doodling mindlessly, the basic shapes unwittingly take on your likeness. it isn't until he's sketching your each individual eyelash that he breaks from his reverie and realizes he'll have yet another portrait of you to add to his abundant collection. this was actually his first sign that his occupation with you runs deep. you're in his dreams, his art, his mind. unconscious, subconscious, and conscious. from observing others, he acknowledges that this behavior errs toward the more unconventional, yet he cares little to course correct.
while he's not entirely apathetic to his surroundings, the list of subjects that dominate his mind and soul is sparse. naturally, there's the final charge from his master and creator, who challenged him to discover the true meaning of this world.
then there's you.
always shining the brightest in any room you inhabit, as if issuing a challenge to the sun's sovereignty. when he draws you or paints you, your lips are always upturned. albedo dutifully records every expression of joy he's seen blossom from you. whether it be holding back laughter when klee asked him 'where kids come from', sitting content in a field of dandelions while a breeze passes through, giving a lost stranger directions... he wants to immortalize your radiance in the only way he knows how.
for a time will come where you'll no longer greet him with an enthusiastic wave and grin, but with contempt instead.
to get through those frigid days, he'll look upon this show of your former warmth, hoping that he can stoke it again.
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Lights
Connor Rhodes x daughter!reader
Summary: Connors daughter can’t take her eyes off the city lights.
———
Y/N with her big, curious eyes fixed on the captivating sight before her. She watched with fascination as lightning crackled across the darkened sky, its brilliant flashes dancing in the distance. The sound of raindrops pattering against the glass provided a soothing rhythm, lulling them into tranquility.
Chuckling softly, Connor got up and walked the couple of steps to Y/N, his voice gentle and warm. "Come on, sweetheart, it's time to go to sleep," he playfully encouraged, though knowing her enchantment with the storm might make it a challenge.
But Y/N remained captivated, her pacifier confined tightly in between her lips as she continued to gaze at the city lights. Connor couldn't help but be amused by her resilience against slumber.
"All right, baby girl, I guess we'll just look at the lights then," Connor mused, lifting Y/N into his arms. He cradled her close, her head resting on his chest, as they stood infront of the tall, wide window that was patterned with rain drops.
With each flicker of lightning and every shimmering glow, Connor shared stories with Y/N. His voice filled with love and tenderness as he spoke about the people living their lives beneath the city lights. The gently swaying and the flicks of lighting, rumbling thunder and a mix of heavy rain created a peaceful feeling.
"See those lights, baby girl?" Connor whispered, his voice a soft melody in the darkness. "Each one tells a story. Families gathering for dinner, friends laughing, and people working hard to make a difference."
Y/N listened, her pacifier gently moving in rhythm with her breath. Connor continued, his voice a soothing lullaby.
"And you, my little sweetheart, you're the brightest light in my world," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You bring joy to every day, just like those city lights bring joy to the people who see them."
As the storm raged on outside, Connor held Y/N close, enveloping her in a feeling of warmth and love. The echoes of thunder and the pitter-patter of rain served as a soothing backdrop to their quiet moments together.
And as the night wore on, the storm eventually subsided, leaving behind a peaceful calm environment. Connor, watching Y/N’s eyelids growing heavier, gently returned her to her crib, re-swaddling her with gentle hands. He watched over her, his heart full of love, grateful for these precious moments they shared.
A tender kiss was placed on Y/N’s forehead, as he slowly and ever so gently ran his fingers in her soft wisps of baby hair, the colour mirroring his own.
With a soft smile on his face, Connor walked back over to his bed, casting a vision of the mesmerizing city lights that continued to flicker outside the window and his baby daughter that slept beside it. In his heart, he knew that their bond, like those lights, would forever shine brightly, guiding them through the storms of life.
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I’m chronically shy so you’ve answered four of my anons already. Doubt you’ll recognize my cadence ask by ask but there’s a chance! I really like how you think and write. And it almost inspires me to make my own attempt at writing some Kar’niss fluff. But I haven’t written fic since I was 13, and that’s a good 13 years past. But I DO roleplay. And my muse has never been stronger. Keep an eye out for Kar’niss receiving some mental and emotional destimulation. Gonna wrap up that spider MYSELF. SHRINKING SPELL. *picks him up and runs to go write*
This was a very inspiring message to read. Forgive me if I get a little personal here but your words tapped into memories I had forgotten.
I started writing when I was around the same age of 13. My earliest obsession was vampires, a surprise to no one who knew me. For years I put everything into the craft. I won awards in school, I tried to write my first book when I was 17 which was a bit of a bust, and I spent my time daydreaming about fantastical worlds far outside of my own. I wanted to be a writer, I had made up my mind.
Then one day I just...quit. The inspiration within me fizzled and faded. All of those characters, all of those universes that lived in my mind stopped talking. At first I believed it to be related to stress, or perhaps boredom, and that in time my fire would reignite. For years that wasn’t the case and I felt a small part of myself wither and disappear. It was a lonely time not because there was no one else around but because I felt such a connection to those fictional places that I grieved their loss. Fantasy always made sense to me, it was my coping mechanism for a rough upbringing and social awkwardness in my youth. Dragons, knights in shining armor, elves, vampires, rolling landscapes brimming with magic and mystery, familiar yet alien. My sanctuary.
Thankfully, my inspiration did return after some time, with a vengeance no less. It was as if those ideas were trapped behind a thick metal wall and they had finally managed to break through, the dam well and truly bursting. I felt as if I had been reunited with a long lost friend and I knew I never wanted to go without again.
I will be 40 in a few months which I am sure makes me a dinosaur to some folks on this site. But I will say my love for fantasy, writing, and getting lost in a colorful daydream is still as strong now as it was at 13. One thing making this blog has accomplished is it’s exposed me to so many up and coming writers and artists. Those that have been at it for years or just getting started. It has made me smile and filled me with hope. We live in a world where every little thing has a price tag, or gradually folks are leaning more toward new AI technologies to make things at the click of a button. But humans shine brightest when we create, from the first cave paintings to the first story ever told. It is our super power and I hope we never forsake it in exchange for convenience or fear of making mistakes.
So my dear if you feel that inspiration to write, then I implore you to grab it with both hands and never let go. Kar’niss may have had a short run in game, but he lives on through you and everyone who brings him to life with their craft. Wrap him in blankets, hold his hand, wipe away his tears when he is sad, laugh with him when he is happy, use the power of your words to keep his legacy going. Not only do I think you can, I know you can.
Never stop dreaming.
#my writing#ramblings#thank you for the ask#that was a mental journey#but worth it#writing advice#answered#kar'niss
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Crown
Fandom: Castlevania Series (2017-2021)
Rating: G
Relationship: Alucard/Greta of Danesti
Characters: Alucard, Greta of Danesti
Count: 0.9k
Also on AO3
Additional Tags: First Kiss, Mythology References, Putting some folklore in your Castlevanias, Stargazing, Post-Castlevania 2017-2021, Romantic Fluff
Summary: Another old oneshot written for an ask. Also wanted to see these two & use this reference in particular.
“And that one?” her finger stabbed the heavens, pointing to a bright, pulsing star among the clusters smattering the black skies.
“That, is called Eltanin in classical lore,” Alucard murmured. “The brightest star in the Draco constellation, no less.”
“Draco,” Greta mouthed. “The Dragon, we call it.”
“That’s right.”
They reclined together on the naked grass warmed by summer, her head resting on his chest as they watched the wheeling galaxies above. The others had long retired, though fading voices raised in song could yet be heard here and there in the vicinity.
The bonfire closest to them, one of many lit to celebrate the year’s Midsummer night, had dwindled to red embers. The air was scented with yellow bedstraw flowers which lay in a heap at Greta’s side. She took another cluster in hand, spinning the stalks absently with long, able fingers.
“What are you making?” Alucard asked, genuine curiosity coloring his voice. She’d been working on it for some time now.
“They say... tonight is special; that the air drips with potent magic,” Greta answered, adding the finishing touches to the makings of the floral crown. “That the heavens tear open, making it, among other things, the most auspicious night for casting spells,” she added in half jest.
“You have my attention,” Alucard smiled. He’d been surrounded by the knowledge of ages during his formative years, but some matters of folklore and the myths of the land were foreign to him.
Greta smoothly rose from her place, and glanced down at his youthful face lit crimson by dying flames. Their eyes locked as her hand reached for his; their fingers weaved together, and Alucard swallowed the angry lashing of his heart at the warm, hopeful touch. Seconds turned to minutes and still in silence they sat, basking in that effortless, subdued contentment. It was far from strange, or awkward. They’ve been all of those things during the past month, but tonight yet again they drifted towards each other, and the quietude was comfortable, soothing, natural; that which they both craved. Crickets chirped their trills around them, and slowly Alucard rose to sit, leaning back on his arms. He stared at the floral crown Greta held in her hands. “Tell me more.”
Her smile was soft, but no less impish; he’d come to welcome it, and the truth did not deter or scare him; not anymore.
“All right. See, the custom is for girls to braid crowns of yellow bedstraw, a symbol of the benevolent fairies said to roam freely this night,” Greta reached for a lock of his hair as Alucard leaned towards her, eyes closing at the graze of her hand upon his cheek. Her fingers bore the sweet, honey-like fragrance of petals. “They dance their secret dances, and bless the crops, and are said to bestow good health on people who honor them.”
Alucard opened his eyes, watching as she turned the crown in her hands. “The women wear these, gathering at nightfall to dance and meet their lovers.”
“I see,” in his eyes sparked the embers. “Now I understand the earlier commotion around the bonfires. But this sounds like I’ve… read about it before somewhere,” Alucard mused, and slowly, reverently, took the crown from her hands and placed it on her head. Her smile was a soft, shining thing as the woman regarded him; a question in her eyes. She sought answers he could not form.
“You might have,” she finally spoke. “The practice is rather ancient,” she added, absorbing every movement, every change in his expression.
His hand palmed her cheek. She knew his past, the difficulties he faced, what he shared of his fears. Why stall? What on god’s green earth was he waiting for? Change did not happen on its own, and its threads were again in his hands; in the sleek shape of her jaw, which he now traced with shaking fingers, in the way her chest heaved, in the sigh of her breath on his lips as he drew closer. This yearning was like struggling to tame a hungry beast and failing, and he knew its sharp teeth sank deep. Eyes closed, heart in hinges, he took the deepest plunge.
Alucard knew not when his hand bound around her nape, when her fingers grasped his jaw; when he tasted hot delight on soft, seeking lips. Languidly he tilted his head just so, all the while bringing her into him; they chuckled when their noses bumped and their teeth chinked together in eagerness, both of them lost in the same rising fever, reaching for the cure. He was slow to relinquish control, but obligingly followed, meeting her halfway; struggling to breathe but wanting more as the stars shivered above his head and the embers burned his chest. The night flared and time poured between flicks of heat and pressure until she severed the link with a languorous suckle on his lip, and they both regarded the other with dazed wonder in their eyes and bare truth on their faces.
Alucard wavered but a moment in jarring disbelief; then reached for her again. “Was that… was that all right?” he asked, pressing the words to her cheek as her hair slid through his fingers.
Greta blinked, sighing as his mouth found the corner of her lips, licking at her brimming smile. “I can’t really tell...” she rasped.
Alucard stilled, but her next words coated him like a balm.
“...do it again.”
More of my work is on AO3 [many stories not on tumblr]
BLOG MASTERPOST (all you need to know)
Likes/comments/reblogs always and forever appreciated
#gretacard#castlevania fanfiction#ruiniel:fanfiction#greta of danesti#alucard castlevania#castlevania netflix
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NKND - INTERVIEW | SOLO
The decision to interview was an easy one. Jaejin was many things, but naive wasn't one of them. He had been a trainee for over two years and had seen what indecisiveness could do, or not do, for one's career. So, when the news came regarding the new male group auditions, he knew he had to throw his name in the ring. Even if there was only a small chance for him to get picked, it was still a chance worth taking.
Jaejin tood in front of the large mirror, a nervous excitement bubbling in his chest as he adjusted his outfit for what felt like the hundredth time. The room was filled with the buzz of anticipation as other hopefuls went before him. Jaejin ran through possible interview scenarios in his mind, rehearsing answers and trying to exude confidence.
As his turn approached, he took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and entered the interview room with a determined stride. This was his moment to show that he was ready to give it his all.
why are you interested in being in NEWKIDS NEWDREAMS? [Word Count: 80]
Sitting comfortably in the chair, he took a moment to consider the question. His lips curved into a playful smile before he responded, "Well, why not?" He chuckled "I mean, there's no time quite like the present to chase your dreams, right?"
The soft lighting in the room accentuated his earnest expression. He continued, "NEWKIDS NEWDREAMS is more than just an opportunity. It's a way to put myself out there into the world." I've spent years as a trainee, putting in the hard work, learning, growing, and now, I feel I'm ready to show the world what I can do"
He gestured subtly with his hands, emphasizing his words. "This is ultimately the first step of many towards that final goal."
considering the current confirmed members, what can you add to the formation ON stage if you are picked? [word count 110]
"A terrible dancer?" he snickers as his hearty laugh fills the room. Taking a moment to regain composure, "Nah, I'm just kidding." His eyes sparkled with good humor before he continued, "I haven't really had a chance to interact with the guys in the group so far, but I know of a few of them."
"BK and Noeul are great performers and even better rappers," Jaejin praised, nodding in admiration. "And then there's Yichen, an all-rounder. His dancing skills are amazing, and he's got a great voice too."
Pausing for a moment, his expression turned thoughtful. "I think I could add vocals to the lineup," he mused. "It's great having people who excel at a lot of things, but sometimes you just need a one-trick pony- y'know. The guy in the back belting his brains out while everyone else is dancing their asse... uh," he pauses at his slip up before offering a playful smile to the interviewer "I mean, dancing their butts off."
which skill (singing, dancing, acting, modeling, instrument…) do you want to be known for and why? [ Word Count: 93 words]
A mischievous glint is evident in his eyes as he mulls over the question. "Well, if I had to choose, I'd probably go with my extraordinary talent for... juggling flaming swords while riding a unicycle!" he exclaimed dramatically, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips " I hear It's a real showstopper, you know?".
After a moment of laughter, his expression turns more earnest. "But, seriously," he began. His voice took on a more thoughtful tone. "I want people to know me for my singing."
As he spoke, his words had a subtle passion. "There's something truly magical about connecting with people through music," he continued. He gestured gently to emphasize his point. "I know it's kind of cliché, but I believe I was put on this earth to sing."
A genuine smile graced his lips as he delved deeper into his thoughts. "And hitting those high notes? It's a surge of electricity not like anything you’ve ever felt before." He brimmed with excitement as he spoke, " Singing is definitely where I shine the brightest!"
what kind of concept are you good at and what kind are you bad at? [word counter:104]
"I'm all about lively and refreshing concepts," Jaejin declared. "Imagine it: bright colors, upbeat music, and energetic dances that get everyone on their feet! That's the kind of stage I want—where every performance feels as if its full of joy and positive energy." He animated his gestures, illustrating the dynamic stage presence he envisioned.
"I think I would really struggle with dark and mysterious concepts," he says making it clear that that was out of his comfort zone. "Imagine me trying to look all serious and mysterious," he joked, "I'd probably end up looking like an idiot trying to solve an impossible puzzle."
"Seriously though, I think the whole dark and brooding vibe is just not me. I prefer concepts that are fun and can get a crowd on their feet."
what kind of group would you ideally want to be part of and why? (examples: self-composing type, self-content making type, known for high performance, known for live vocals, etc.…) [word counter 95]
"I’d love to be in a group that fans feel like they can be friends with and can connect to. The approachability factor is crucial, for me" Jaejin mused, "on a less metaphysical level I would ideally want us to be known for our synchronicity, live singing, and variety skills."
As he spoke, his hands gestured wildly, painting a vivid picture of his aspirations. "We could blow everyone away with our amazing stage performances," he said. A spark of determination was present in his voice. "And then, off-stage," he said. A mischievous grin spread across his face. "We'd be cracking jokes, doing dance challenges, we'd be literal variety stars."
Jaejin's eyes glinted with excitement. He envisioned lively group interactions. "It's about forming a deep bond with the fans," he said. His gaze showed his sincerity. "Leaving them buzzing after every show," he added with a nod.
-
After concluding the interview, Jaejin was thanked and then dismissed. As he retreated towards the door he couldn't help but feel hopeful for what was to come. A feeling, a surge of excitement and determination coursed through him. all he needed was one chance and he knew he wouldn't let them down. After all he had not only the skill but also the desire and drive.
Before exiting the room he turned around and thanked the interviewer once more. leaving the room with hope and anticipation for what the future might hold.
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Canopy
For today's fic, enjoy this Remadora GOODNESS from @fightfortherightsofhouseelves ❤️ Read it below, or on ao3 here!
Username: fightfortherightsofhouseelves
Prompts: Auror + Stargazing
Summary: Tonks comes to terms with her ancestry. Set in July, soon after the end of GoF.
__
Her mother was the last to be removed.
She had stood there earlier, quietly next to Sirius, loathing it. Wishing she could destroy it. Flick her wand and set it ablaze; she wished she could tear the entire place down, brick by bloody brick with her empty hands.
Hate had never been something Nymphadora Tonks was in the habit of feeling, yet right then it coursed through her like November rain.
The July sky was oddly clear that night, and she hated that she could see them bearing down on her, the different members of her family with stupid, pretentious names in fancy, pretentious lettering, all glittering stars and constellations. They looked down on her from their perched, unburnt spots on the tapestry and they looked down on her now, from high up in the heavens. As though she had never left the wretched room.
As though there was no escaping.
There was Cygnus, her grandfather’s namesake - the swan alight, soaring over the Milky Way with its mighty cross. And Andromeda, her mother - and the constellation which contained an entire galaxy within it.
So fitting, Tonks thought wryly. There had always been something very dark, something very deep hidden inside her mother that Tonks could never touch, could never quite reach. Whereas her father… He was light shining through the surface, and she could dive right into its welcoming warmth when she needed it. His heart was carried on his sleeve, no need to search for it or beckon him to open it: Ted Tonks was exactly what you saw in front of you.
They are light and darkness together, Tonks mused, breath exhaled quickly through her nostrils as she let her gaze fall all the way down to a chipped bit of leather on the front of her boots. Her knees touched, the ground beneath her palm stuck underneath her fingernails. She filled her lungs with the damp summer air and peered up at the sky again.
Above her, Sirius, the eternal Dog Star, shone the brightest in the sky now. But did he, the mortal, human Sirius? Did his soul shine still, or had it flickered, had it been snuffed little by little, years after long years locked away in Azkaban? She had seen him there once, and she had not thought him alive…
Tonks let her eyes wander higher towards Pollux, to Cassiopeia, and then roam over the grandiose Orion. Orion who had swallowed so many of the brightest stars to make itself more beautiful, more glowing, to make itself shine through above all constellations.
How very fitting, once again.
Tonks draped a palm over her eyes, rubbed at their corners with her fingertips, so very tired. Toujours pur, eh? Her legacy…
She nearly sicked up on her Auror boots.
A feeble twig creaked and broke into little splinters; Tonks had not turned her head till now, she had not wished to see those maddening stars reflected in his eyes. Instead, she had bought herself more time, hidden away inside her mind. Navel-gazing. Stargazing.
If she said them both quickly, they rhymed.
She peeked over her shoulder now: his back rested against a boulder, the timeless ebb and flow of the grass bent to the wind tickling the soles of his fading, worn out shoes. The scars dug into his skin glistening in the starlight. His troubled eyes closed, lids brushing his pale cheeks.
There was no moon above; it had been full three days ago, she had surprised herself by noticing.
‘Odd how clear it is tonight,’ Tonks said. She didn’t want to disturb him, but she didn’t want to sit down with just her thoughts either. She needed some form of human connection after her first foray into Grimmauld Place, it seemed.
Lazily, his eyebrows rose. ‘Hmm?’
‘The sky, look,’ she signalled upwards with her finger and his gaze followed. ‘You can see Orion and Andromeda and Sirius. I mean, blimey, it’s so clear we’d probably be able to see a Death Eater conniving in the next county as we speak, no need to hide for this mission - which is brilliant, since we aren’t really hiding, are we? Wonder when the messenger Dumbledore’s told us about will show up though…’
Her voice had slipped and cracked as she had breathed all this out, trained Auror that she was. It had been rich of her to wax poetic about her Dad, it now transpired. Foolishly, she had displayed the contents of her heart, too, at the drop of a witch’s pointy hat.
Remus looked at her, lip curled into a half-smile.
‘Is Astronomy a big part of being an Auror?’
‘Nah,’ Tonks sighed, and she, too, smiled slightly. ‘I wanted to connect with my big, stupid, evil family once upon a time.’
‘So you’ve seen the tapestry.’
‘Yup,’ Tonks said, something between a grin and a grunt. ‘Vile old thing, isn’t it? Mum’s not even there, have you noticed? Or me, or Dad? It’s like we don’t even exist - like,’ she worried her lip here, searching for the words, ‘like our entire existence’s been erased.’
Remus unstuck his back from the boulder, brought his knees inside a circle he created with the inside of his arms. He watched her, not unkindly.
‘They can’t erase you with the tip of their wands,’ he finally said, and smiled. ‘You’re too much.’
Tonks’ breath hitched, she hadn’t been expecting this. Grass twisted between her fingers as she pulled it, blowing it towards the sky, then sneezed as some fell back onto her face. It was embarrassing, but she was used to embarrassing herself.
‘Sometimes, I think, some would wish I were less.’
Her voice came out in a whisper, her gaze anywhere but on him, for she had revealed her heart again.
If she were honest with herself, Tonks didn’t really know if it had been her mother she had thought of as she’d said it, or the people at the Ministry. Her old mates at Hogwarts, or even herself. (Tell them how silly you are so they won’t say it themselves. Laugh at yourself first so you won’t feel hurt when they laugh.)
There it was again: stargazing, navel-gazing, say them quickly and they rhyme.
‘I don’t.’
He said it simply, as simple and wonderful as the wind blowing through the rustling foliage above them, tying her stomach into knots.
Her shoulder bumped shortly into his. ‘Thanks.’
He shrugged.
‘I brought tea, but it might need warming up. Be back in a tick,’ he grinned, stifling a grunt as he got up. The full moon had slashed through the sky three days ago, she reminded herself as she watched Remus stagger to the tree where they had hung their backpacks.
Truthfully, Tonks wished he didn’t go. Instead, she wished his arm had sneaked around her and his body had become her anchor as she’d sat there and allowed herself to sob or wallow in self pity or something of the sort. He wouldn’t laugh at her, she was sure of it now, for he had known exactly what had troubled her. She felt her hair ripple slightly as she watched him saunter back.
‘Tastes a bit like water, I’m afraid.’
Tonks looked up at him and his smile was wry as he handed her the thermos. It was rusting at the bottom, but it felt warm against her palm as she stretched her arm to touch it.
Tonks uncorked it, breathed in the vague bergamot scent. She had become aware of Remus’ fidgeting, a jittery tap of his boot, gaze glued to his shoelaces - all the little telltale signs she had been trained to notice. He was bothered and uncomfortable. To alleviate her pain, Remus had allowed her to witness a flash of his poverty, and it embarrassed him.
She saw now, with perfect clarity, what this small act of kindness had cost him, her heart expanding and sinking, inflating and plummeting at the same time. How stupid she had been, how self-absorbed, how selfish. Oh, Remus…
Tonk steeled herself, plastered a grin onto her face. She could not, would not do this to him.
‘Isn’t tea essentially hot flavoured water?’ she quipped up at him.
Remus snorted. ‘You’ve clearly never had it before.’
Tonks laughed, careful to have it sound cheerful. ‘Is that right? Show me what I’ve been missing, then.’
‘Oho, not with this sad thing,’ Remus grimaced as he took the thermos from her and sipped. ‘God, tastes like hogwash.’
Tonks hid her giggle behind the back of her palm, watching him amusedly as he made a show of tasting it again in short, aggressive sips. ‘Wasn’t it you who brewed it, though?’
He stared at her, politely bewildered, which only made her laugh louder, harder, and sat down with an exasperated thud. Their shoulders touched again, their hips close to each other.
‘Brewed it?’ Remus repeated in sheer disbelief. ‘I merely dropped two teabags into an old thermos. Teabags, I tell you.’
His hands flew up towards the stars and although his expression was pained, she could see the excitement in his eyes: it made him suddenly look younger, boyish almost. The flakes of white hair in his week old stubble, at his temples momentarily slipped out of sight.
‘Nothing worse than dipping teabags into water and calling it tea,’ Remus added sagely.
‘I don’t know, Dad always said there’s nothing worse than adding milk first,’ Tonks scrunched her nose. Quietly, her boot inched closer to his.
‘Honestly? Jail to people who put milk in first,’ Remus said solemnly. ‘Your dad’s very wise.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ she laughed. ‘To me, tea is just the warm thing you drink when you’re sick.’
‘That alone can stand ground for extradition,’ he said gravely.
‘Oh, yes, I heard you have to pass a blind tea sipping test now to become a British citizen. They throw you to the trolls if you fail.’
‘Finally, the people at the top of the Government are seeing sense. Imagine making yourself a steaming cup of Earl Grey only to miss out on the subtle note of bergamot. Or - or brewing Assam without a pinch of saffron. Ridiculous, isn’t it? Like Masala without the fragrant taste of cardamom.’
Tonks watched him warmly, and felt her shoulders relax, her features settle into blissful calm. His voice soothed her, his passion stirred her, it moved her deeply. She wanted him closer, as though Remus had already become familiar to her, as though she had already accepted him in her heart.
Maybe she had.
‘You go on, I’ll just rest my head.’
‘What? Oh -’
There was an embarrassed silence as her temple touched his shoulder, but then, quickly, he recovered. He didn’t pull away or even try, but let her sit there with her head onto him, both of them under the canopy of stars above.
‘Yes, so a good Earl Grey goes well with a slim dash of milk,’ Remus cleared his throat and ploughed on bravely, ‘and when I say dash, I mean you’ll need to make it thinner than the Milky Way up there.’
‘Practical and romantic, I love it. Can I add some extra bergamot extract to make it sexy?’
‘You laugh now, but you’re bringing the tea next time.’
‘Are you sure? I’ll probably bring something very boring, like chamomile.’
‘Ah, an excellent immune system booster, the old chamomile tea. And severely misunderstood.’
Tonks wanted to say he could enjoy all the tea he liked if he went home with her once the mission ended, but she didn’t. Not for now. She settled instead for being there, pleasantly in that moment, with this man she’d thought of as Sirius’ friend.
With this man she’d thought of very often nowadays.
Tonks smiled, feeling lighter. She nestled more comfortably with her head onto his shoulder, and she listened to him talk at ease.
There was no moon that night to harm him, just stars. And, little by little, as Remus talked to her, they became exactly that to Tonks: just stars.
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Flash Fiction Friday
Prompt #185: Birth of a Star
@flashfictionfridayofficial
A Black Sky
"Think of your life as the black sky, and every person you meet is a pinprick of light shining through it. Some burn brighter. Some cluster together. Some dim with time."
Luca had rolled her eyes with a good-humored smirk as she listened to the woman wax poetic about life, love, and the universe, despite their view from the broken balcony.
Four stories below, the world continued on without them. Its crush of people peeled off to haggle with street vendors shouting over beeps, whirs, and hisses of machinery keeping everything from food to disposable electronics locked up from would-be thieves.
But while Luca had been looking down, her companion stared up. Up, past the neon-drenched buildings to the light-polluted sky.
"You're not going to find any stars up there," Luca said with a chuckle.
She laughed and shook her head, brushing the hair from her eyes. "Maybe not, but they're there. Just like if I lose sight of you, it doesn't mean you stop existing. Even once we move on to the next life, we're still imprinted on the people we knew."
The chaos of the street shifted into the loud thumping of music in the club, strobe lights pulsing at the edges of her vision as the ice in her drink sank further into the liquor.
Imprinted didn't seem like the appropriate word now that a year had gone by since she'd lost the very woman that'd said those words. It was closer to gouged. Gutted. Destroyed.
And Luca had endured a lot of pain before that, from bullet wounds to cybernetic installations from less-than-legal street doctors, but nothing as debilitating as losing someone she cherished.
Perhaps a black sky would be easier to manage, but when Luca had tried to shut people out, she always found herself right back here: on the precipice of seeing pieces of her lover in others who tried to look at the world through an ideal lens.
Like the guy sitting next to her in the booth, who waited for her answer to one of the craziest questions she'd ever been asked since her girlfriend mused about rallying something akin to a revolution that hadn't been seen since half a dozen centuries ago.
"You want to know how much I know about a man that owns half the city?" she finally asked with a bemused chortle. "What are you planning exactly?"
The guy hesitated, running a gloved thumb over one of his sleeve cuffs. "He took a lot from my family. That's all you need to know."
He'd also snuffed out the brightest star in Luca's sky, but somehow she found a new light shining in this boy's eyes.
The birth of another star in her sky.
One that she could save this time if she played her cards right.
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Hi!!! 2, 4, 10, 13, 15 (His Living Legacy), 20, 30, and 44 for the ask game if you wanna??
Hi!!!! Hell yeah I’ll do it I love this ask game
Fic writer ask game
How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?
I’m usually 80% writer, 20% reader because writing takes so much attention and time so I don’t really have time to read too many fics. I usually read outside of whatever fandom I’m in though. I read a LOT of BNHA fics
Link your three favorite fics right now.
Okay I just convinced my best friend to read this fic and now I’m gonna try my best to do the same to you. It’s called Runner and it’s a canon divergence AU of The Lego Movie where instead of Good Cop getting erased by Lord Business it was Bad Cop. THEN, after Good Cop has lived years without Bad Cop, he’s sent back a year before Taco Tuesday and has to try and fix EVERYTHING. The fic is all about trust and sacrifices and mistakes and I love it SO much. (There is one chapter where it’s heavily about self-sacrifice/suicide he doesn’t actually die but it’s very much about it)
OUGH I was scrolling through my bookmarks and I just remembered my favorite Teen Titans fic of all time: Deathstroke’s Apprentices. It’s a canon divergence au of the show where instead of being saved, Robin stays as Deathstroke’s apprentice. The fic starts like MONTHS into this situation and we watch as Robin changes slowly to cope with it all. Terra is also there and her being there is what makes it very hard for Robin to escape because he refuses to leave her alone. GOD. I love this fic so so much
I’m also gonna rec Welcome To The New Age because every single time I think about the line I go insane:
“In this moment I think I almost wish I were human again,” he mused, “So that I could experience a friendship with you.”
What’s your favorite fandom, pairing, or character to read fic for?
I really like reading BNHA fics because there’s SO MANY of them and because I haven’t watched the show I have no scale of what’s in character or not and just enjoy the fics. However, there are a few characters/pairings I would KILL to have more people posting in
Do you outline your fics? How much of a headache would someone get if they just looked at an outline of yours without reading the fic?
Okay it really depends. If it’s a long fic I’ll leave MANY notes. It’s usually scenes or moments that are important to me that I don’t want to forget. But if it’s a shorter fic…
[my notes for His Living Legacy]
Robotnik dies at the end of sonic 2. Stone holds a funeral for him with the badniks. “Those who shine the brightest often burn the fastest”. He considers giving the same speech he did a few months earlier. He makes a coffee exactly how Robotnik likes it and leaves it on his grave. Engraved it says, Ivo Robotnik. He was loved. He was the brightest of us all. He will be remembered.
Tell the author your favorite fic of theirs. What’s your (the author’s) favorite fic you’ve written?
I have… a hundred and fifty one posted fics… why would you do this to me
I’m glad you like His Living Legacy! I was annoyed by how few actually sad fics there were about the open ending and I love emotionally destroying my blorbos so I did lmao
But. God. What’s my favorite fic I’ve ever written…
I’ve only ever reread and edited one of my fics and that was the most honorable thing. I love that fic and especially the title since it’s a cut off quote: the most honorable thing is to keep living. It’s a fic where Maul actually gets to be happy for once in his life and I love it
What’s your favorite part about the fanfiction writing process?
I love daydreaming about fics. I love it so much.
Post a snippet from your current WIP without context - no more than 300 words.
Haha alright
Lear crossed his arms, fuming with a soul-deep anger even Red couldn’t evoke in him. This was a special sort of anger reserved only for his father.
It was made up of quiet, cutting words. Knives smaller than the eye could see. Guilt and remorse warped into weapons.
Every time he and his father met, they fought.
This was the way of the world.
Rant about something writing related.
I hate how complicated writing numbers is. Like there’s no clear indicator for when you should switch from spelling it out to just having the numbers and like. It’s so painful for me. Usually if I encounter this issue in a fic it leads to me abandoning it halfway through and it’s so annoying
#skitty asks#7 birds in a trenchcoat#I’m very tempted to go into the stobotnik tag again just to see if any new angst has been written
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The Myth of Damned Beauty: A Critical Lens on Romanticized Desolation
In the echoes of electric guitars and the silent pauses between film reels, a narrative as old as time reverberates—a narrative that intertwines the allure of beauty with the desolation of the soul. It's a narrative that has been glamorized, romanticized, and, ultimately, sold to us as the 'damned beauty' myth. This myth perpetuates the idea that those who shine the brightest in the public eye must also suffer the most profound inner turmoil.
From the smoky stages of rock concerts to the glossy pages of magazines, we've witnessed the tragic tales of celebrities, artists, and poets who have succumbed to the siren call of this myth. Their stories are etched into our collective consciousness, not as cautionary tales, but as twisted paragons of a romanticized end. The '27 Club' stands as a grim testament to this phenomenon, where the age of 27 has become a morbid milestone, marking the lives and deaths of too many gifted souls.
But let's strip away the veneer of glamor to reveal the stark truth: the association of beauty with existential struggle and depression is not only misguided but dangerous. It paints mental health struggles as a prerequisite for creativity, as if one's worth as an artist is measured by their capacity for suffering. It suggests that there is nobility in pain, that there is something profoundly beautiful about the downward spiral that leads to self-destruction.
This narrative is toxic. It disregards the real, tangible battles that individuals face with mental health. It ignores the fact that depression is not a muse—it is a monster. It doesn't discriminate based on one's appearance or success. It is an all-consuming darkness that can engulf anyone, regardless of their standing in the limelight.
We must dismantle the myth of damned beauty. We must stop romanticizing the struggles of those who entertain and inspire us. Instead, we should foster a culture that supports mental health awareness, that encourages seeking help, and that acknowledges the courage it takes to face one's demons head-on.
Let's rewrite the narrative. Let's celebrate the resilience of those who fight their battles away from the public eye. Let's honor the strength it takes to live another day. For in the end, the true beauty lies not in the myth of the tortured artist, but in the reality of the human spirit's indomitable will to survive.
---
In loving and respectful memory of Kurt Cobain and all of those artists and not who left us too soon.
If you are struggling, search for support. Asking for help and being aware of your fragile condition is a sign of strength, not weakness. Always count on a helping hand. You are not alone.
#kurt Cobain#mental health#beauty#artificial intelligence#digital art#new media art#ai#new aesthetic#aesthetics#art#awareness
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Dear Journal,
Well today is more of a check-in with yourself type of day.
How are you holding up?
Feeling a bit like wanting to shut down and go on auto-pilot mode (disassociate), but that's not going to help anything😕
Sometimes pushing forward isn't going to work if you don't have the energy to do it. That's because your emotional meter is at its limit and now needs to be handled.
Emotional pain can also be trapped in your body. By doing somatic exercises, it can help to release some of that pain stored in certain areas (like your hips).
Carrying too much unprocessed emotions will manifest itself into a physical illness and eventually spiral downwards into depression (a pit that's really hard to get out of🕳 and at that point need inner child healing)
That's why it's important to make space/time to work through those feelings that need to be felt and acknowledged to understand what it's trying to tell you (root cause). Those negative feelings have a purpose. It could be trying to light a fire in your a** to get you to do something important.
Just don't stay in that energy for too long. It's only meant to serve a purpose, and that's it. Getting attached/comfortable to any situation(feeling) will only cause you to suffer in the end. Because growth requires change, which is necessary for your evolutionary process 🦋🐛
There's different outlets that you can do.
For some, it could be some form of art🎨🖼📝🎭🎶🎹🎤 since we're all different and how we process things, figure out what works best for you, and do that👍🙌😊
Besides, we're not robots (🧰 beep beep bop🤖). We're made of star power🌟 (look it up😉)
Go shine your brightest!!😎
You never know who you could inspire ✨️ 👀
#amoebamom#journal#healingjourney#mommylife#wellness wednesday#autopilot#disassociate#emotional pain#somatic therapy#depression#inner child healing#root cause#your mission#energy#attachment#suffering#growth#evolution#final form#art is therapy#robots#made to shine#ron burgundy#the simpsons#avatar last airbender#spotify#muse band#euphoria#ancient astronauts
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For Saiki: 'About Thoma' buuut also give us an 'About Heizou' too <3
Send ‘About: (name)’ for my muse’s thoughts!
"...Thoma? Thoma... I envy him sometimes, you know. People may look at him the same they do me from his status as an outsider, no matter how we can't change that, but the way he takes to it, I wish I could... I know there's a lot that bothers him, in truth. He's a man who can't keep all that much hidden, and happiness and heartache are two of the brightest that shine in his eyes, yet he doesn't talk much about them. I'm... I'm always concerned... If he's there to listen to everyone else's problems and help them, no matter how they treat him behind his back... Who listens to his? Maybe I could invite him out for dinner... He should be allowed the same peace he so kindly gives to others."
"I can't say I expected the twin brother I never met to be someone like Heizou. I can't say I expected him to be much, to tell the truth - It's hard to imagine what a long lost relative could be like until you actually meet them, especially when you're running off just a name. He's stubborn, jumps to conclusions despite his claims to the opposite, set in his ways a little too much, fails to remember other people around him exist or care for their opinion, and once he's set in a 'truth', he won't hear otherwise unless you sit him down for it and be stubborn back... But he's also there when you need him, brilliant, looks out for those he cares about... I'm proud to call him my brother, no matter how frustrating he can be some days. I only wish we could've grown up together, instead."
#You've Got Mail [Asks]#Yoroiis#IC; Saiki#We Don't Need Anyone Else [Horizon]#Saiki trying her best to not show just how much she cares for Thoma#And fails hardcore XD But she's okay with that actually <3#Especially if Thoma catches on to the fact she really and truly believes he deserves everything he gives out in his kindness and then some~#But Heizou too can walk away from this knowing his twin loves him so much#No matter how difficult it is to get used to things#She adores her brother and wishes they were never separated <3#Even if she still thinks he's stubborn af - But then so is she soooo- XD
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The Lost Souls of the Stars
“After everything that you’ve been through… they wanted to give you some recompense. Not many have made it through the land of the dead and back to the living,” He mused, “It is yours — a gift. You can go to any time, in the past, to visit one person you like.” The man continued on, offering ideas of where to travel back to, who to see.
“I know where I want to go.”
The man’s voice trailed off mid-sentence. “Already? Are you certain?”
Ambrose nodded, “Yes.”
***
The stars were shining particularly bright that night — even the city lights that lined the streets could not dim their glow. Down below in the dingy streets of the housing complexes barely any care was directed towards these stars. Everyone went about their night, however that night may be. For most it involved stumbling over their own two feet; for some it involved the crashing of a bottle and teeth flying through the air; and for others…well, others happened upon more unspeakable fates.
But on this night the stars had one admirer that sat high above the chaos and misfortune. A boy with a twinkle in his eye, waiting for the perfect moment.
He had learned to drown out the noises from below. It didn’t always work; some nights the noises were across the hall or through the wall. It was harder to be brave those nights — yet still he tried his best. The boy didn’t want to move for fear of being heard, and so he’d lie there, head buried under the covers, cupping his ears to block out the sounds. Pleading in his mind for he and his Mother to be saved from this place by the one he longed to see the most.
However, this night was far simpler than those. With elbows digging into the window ledge, the child cupped his cheeks, the midnight air gently playing with his hair. He didn’t seem to pay it any mind, in fact it was likely he hadn’t noticed at all. A faint smile partnered with his large, dewy eyes regarded the wonders above. It was the brightest he’d ever seen them.
The boy wondered what each of their stories were; the lost souls of the stars. Who were they looking down on? Who were they hoping to meet again? His Mother had always said that if a star tried hard enough, and if its beloved believed enough, then one day, maybe, just maybe, they could be lucky enough to meet again. She also said that sometimes, even the strongest of stars, weren’t fortunate enough to have that ending — but this boy knew he could do it.
As the night went on the boy sat there. From leaning against his elbows, to lying his face flat against the ledge, peering up at the sky, and back again. This went on for what felt like forever, in not only a child’s mind, but an adult’s too.
After a while the cool breeze seemed to relax the child, as he absentmindedly swayed to it’s natural rhythm. His eyelids began to flicker, drooping further and further to a close. At its final drop something far beyond him in the pool of darkness popped. The boy woke with a start, his eyes straining to adjust to the world once more.
Pop.
There it was again, but this time he saw it. The blink of light soaring through the sky, painting the midnight with its colour. Time stopped as the boy drew a quick breath. It was a soul finding its one. The child shook on the spot, his body vibrating. What to do? What to do? He almost turned to shout on his Mother but he was too afraid to look away now. He hadn’t been prepared the first two times, he couldn’t wish for anything. But now he knew what to do. Please let there be another, please, please, please, he begged.
His heart was ready to sink when he saw it again. The boy’s eyes lit up and he wished harder than he ever had in his entire life. Even harder than the time he really, really wanted to be Santa’s little helper.
The little boy squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fists, and trying with all his might to bring his star back to him. Come on…Come on…
Slowly he opened his eyes one by one, looking around him for any sign his wish had came true. His room was as empty as it had been before, nothing unmoved. Finally he leaned out the window, searching every inch of the fire escape with his eyes. Nothing. The sinking of his heart pulled him back to his seat.
“Ethan.”
The boy’s eyes widened, his mouth running dry — the moisture from it travelling upwards to gather in his eyes. Unsure if it were truly happening, he sat there stiffly until a warm hand rested on his shoulder, covering it completely with its palm. Pure, untouched love spread through Ethan’s body, sending a shiver down his spine, and finally he looked up.
The man before him was no stranger. He would know him in his dreams, in life and in death, he would feel him across universes — he always had, but now he was sure.
Ethan leapt into his Father’s arms, wrapping himself around his neck. Sniffling quietly into Ambrose’s shirt. The pair buried themselves in one another for a moment before eventually pulling back. Ethan tried his best to disguise his tears, though the wet cuffs of his sweatshirt gave it away.
“You came back,” He croaked, “You— you know my name.”
“Of course, I know your name. You’re my boy.”
“I can’t believe it worked.” Ethan squeezed him tightly once more, almost choking the poor elder. He wriggled with excitement in his Father’s arms, “I need to tell Mama!”
Ambrose drew back, his face dropping for a moment. “ Why don’t we spend a little time together first... just me and you, yeah?”
The boy stopped for a minute. His Mum would be so happy, and that’s all he ever wanted in life — that’s why this wish was the best he could ever make. It was really two people’s wishes. But Ethan didn’t want to go against his Father’s wishes. Finally he nodded.
“Good.” Ambrose shone a cheeky smile, wiggling his fingers to tickle his son.
“Ok,” He giggled, wriggling out his Father’s grip to land on the floor, “Come with me, but shhhhh…you gotta come quietly.”
Ambrose done an overexaggerated, slow nod of understanding before following Ethan’s perfected creeping walk out of the room.
As they walked down the hall the walls seemed to grow narrower, a stale smell lingered beneath an almost over-powering scent of sandalwood and vanilla. The boy didn’t seem to mind at all as he wandered through absentmindedly. Occasionally he forgot all about his stealthiness and had to stop abruptly, refusing to move an inch until he heard no movement within the apartment.
The creeping of his son amused Ambrose. He watched on as the child’s hair bobbed up and down, swishing across his shoulders as he scoped out their surroundings. Whilst he was trying to contain himself something caught his eye.
He lingered in the hall a moment. Turning his head from side to side and squinting his eyes a little, trying to figure out if what he thought he was seeing was true. Curiosity pulled the Siren towards the room at the end of the hall. Quite a powerful tug from the young boy drew him back.
“Come ooooooon.” He whispered as loudly as he could.
“What is that? What’s in there?” Ambrose pointed to the half-open door.
Ethan frowned for a moment, wondering why that room held any importance at all before his eyes widened. Taking his dad's arm in his tiny hand, he pushed the door open wide and pulled Ambrose into the doorway. Shrouded in darkness the elder could only half make out what was before him. Varying sizes of rectangles were dotted around the room. Finding his footing was difficult, especially whilst trying to make as little noise as possible. Ambrose fumbled around, shuffling softly as he tried to break his foot free from some entanglement. Frustrated he reached out, feeling the wall for a switch.
click.
Ambrose braced himself for a strong light to burst into the room but instead was met by a dull yellow, humming bulb. Canvas’ filled the box room — some sat in a row against the wall, others lay stacked on the floor. The man in almost every one was unmistakable.
“This one is my favourite.” Ethan held up one of the smaller paintings. He looked at it for a moment before holding it up, “We have the same mouth! And nose,” Looking back at it he squinted, “…kinda.” Shrugging, the boy placed it next to the others. “Anyway, come on. I wanna make you something special.”
Ethan strode across the dust sheet that had collected an array of colours, only stopping once he noticed his Father was not following him. “Come on!”
Ambrose took one last look around the room, his own eyes staring back at him. There were memories he recalled that Alexis had captured almost identically: The tavern they frequented in the wee hours of the morning, wooden tables darkened with a patchwork of ale stains. His reddened lips and rosy cheeks from the heat of the liquor; The slick sheen of silk that draped her bed — Ambrose could feel its sweet touch enveloping him, slipping down the arch of his back, caressing every inch of his skin with each move he made.
Alexis had told him tidbits of their life from when Ethan was a child. Often it was described like a dark cloud hanging over their heads, one that never seemed to pass. The rain not once ceasing for even a second. But never had she mentioned the paintings, though the abandonment she felt could be seen in every brush stroke. Slowly Ambrose turned from them, ignoring the guilt he felt for all he had not known of his dearest friend’s life.
He walked past her at first. It was only when he stood on a particularly creaky floorboard that he realised there was more than the pair in the room. Alexis stirred, her blanket almost ripping at the seams as she tugged it closer to her body. Though she was closer to the age he left her, she seemed much older than now. The worries of life etched into her resting features. Exhuastion had paled her skin and stripped her hair of its golden richness. It stood on its end in places, and collected in dry clumps in others.
Once again Ethan had rushed ahead, leaving his Father to wander behind him. Ethan peered over the kitchen counter and into the living room, “ You’re not very good at following, you know. You wander off a lot and Momma always shouts at me when I do it, so you shouldn’t do it either.” The little boy huffed, arms folded mocking his Mother’s ‘telling off’ pose. “No more wandering!”
Ambrose chuckled at the tiny, disapproving finger Ethan wagged in his direction. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Now, I can make you a ham sammich made with our finest, um, ham. Or…” Jars clinked lightly as he carefully searched through the cupboards, “Cheese?”
It was clear Ethan wasn’t actually asking Ambrose what he wanted when he discussed his choices for another minute or so, interrupting Ambrose each time he opened his mouth to speak.
Finally he settled on ham, because ‘everyone liked ham’. With their sandwiches in hand and a cup of milk each they found themselves back in the privacy of Ethan’s room. The pair relaxed a little, finally able to speak above a whisper.
Ethan set the scene: A stack of blankets softened the hard wood of his window ledge. A little battery powered starry sky light lit the room slightly, the faint humming of it as it turned barely audible over the continuing ruckus outside. Ambrose watched as the boy paid it no mind, placing himself on his chair and tucking in.
Ambrose perched himself on the ledge, “Mind if I put my feet up?”
“Anything for you, Pops!” Ethan gulped down a large bite before shining a toothy grin.
Ambrose couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He lifted his legs with ease, both instantly responding to his commands. It seemed with this magic trip he had been granted his body had been restored to its prime. It was a great relief, a luxury he had forgotten. The deterioration of his body had happened instantly. At first everyone thought it was pain that would eventually go away, he had been clinically dead for a few months after all, but if anything the problems worsened. Ambrose had grown accustomed to the pain, it was a lingering constant now — that searing heat that lit his legs alight, causing them to tremble as he walked; His back tender and aching, no matter which way he stretched to ease it; and the worst of all was his chest. Though it wasn’t frequent, on occasion when Ambrose moved without thinking the sensation of cracking, as though a hole was getting dug bore into a lake of ice, penetrated his sternum. It acted as a reminder: no matter how well he may feel, he was now a half-man. In-between worlds. His only anchor being the heart of his wife which kept him alive.
He cosied into the blankets beneath him, relieved to relax. As Ambrose sipped at his milk he absentmindedly played with Ethan’s hair, twirling it with his forefingers. It was coarse, like his own, and lighter in colour just as his had been in his youth. The pair were like two flames meeting in a fire, joining into one. The combined warmth soothed their worlds for the time being.
Ambrose gulped down his milk, leaving a large milk mustache on his upper lip. The boy’s laughter rose within him.
“What?” Ambrose looked over himself quickly.
Ethan could hardly get a word out between laughs.
“What is it?” He continued searching, before licking his upper lip. His mouth opened wide, feigning surprise.
Ambrose lifted the boy onto his lap as their laughter filled the room. “Do you want one too?”
Ethan nodded enthusiastically, his little face beaming. He took the glass from his Father and threw it back a bit too eagerly, thankfully Ambrose’s fatherly instincts were still in tact and saved them both from being drenched. With the cup being so large Ethan’s moustache was more handlebar-like, dripping down the sides of his mouth.
“There we go, that’s it. Milk moustache time.”
Ethan grinned, “Milk moustache time!”, and tackled his Father with a hug.
It never surprised Ambrose how strong his children were, not after raising three were-siren’s. Ethan’s tiny arms gripped him, refusing to let go.
“This is the best. I want you to stay forever.” Ethan felt ambrose’s heart sink in the center of his chest. It was what he had feared and slowly the boy moved back, defeatedly looking down, “But you can’t… can you?”
“I’m sorry, kid. I can’t.” Ambrose tried to find the right thing to say. For a child, minutes felt like years, for Ethan it would be a millenia before they saw each other again. “Someday we will meet again, and after that we can see each other all the time. I promise.” He had taken him gently by the shoulders, lifting his head as he spoke. Reaching over Ambrose brought Ethan in, resting his head upon the boy’s as he embraced him, planting a small kiss in the thick of his hair. “Come on, let’s look at the stars together.”
With ease he perched Ethan on the ledge, both their feet resting on the fire escape as they hung out the window. Usually Ethan didn’t dare to venture out farther, even when the fire escape beckoned him over. His Mother wouldn’t be furious, well perhaps initially she would, but after that it would be her fear and imagined grief that would make things worse. “What if something happened to you? If you fell? If someone took you. If—If…”. His heart usually weighed heavy at the thought. But tonight he was with his Father, and with him he was always safe.
They looked up at the night sky in their own little world, time and the lives of all in existence passed by with each second they gazed. Silence had grown between them, but in this silence was comfort and home. Ambrose took one look at Ethan, proud of the boy he was, heartbroken for what the boy would have to go through next. He rested his hand upon his eldest’s, and Ethan looked back at him — The dad he had always hoped he’d find.
“Ethan!”
Ethan turned to see the bedroom door fly open, his Mother bursting through. When he looked back his Father was gone once again.
Alexis scooped the boy in her arms, swinging him back into the room and slamming the window shut.
“What are you doing? You know how dangerous—“
“Dad was here! He was here! I finally saw him, like you said I would.” Ethan bounced with excitement.
Alexis stopped in her tracks, stunned, “What?”
“He was here. I made him a sandwich. We were sitting at the window and—“
Ethan continued on as his Mother’s eyes rested on the two glasses of milk before searching the room frantically. She hoisted the window open once more, throwing her toro out of it to survey both sides of the fire escape before slowly closing it shut again. Hands to her face she took a deep breath, collecting herself.
“Ethan, sweetie. Your Father wasn’t here.”
“Yes he was, I was speaking to him.”
“No baby,” She knelt on the floor, lowering herself to his eye level, “no you weren’t.” her voice was as soft as a cloud, which was surprising given the fact her heart thumped loudly in her chest.
“I did, I did!” Ethan insisted.
The pair continued back and forth, getting louder with each sentence before finally his Mother erupted.
“Enough, Ethan!” Alexis threw her hands in the air, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.
The boy’s eyes widened.
“It’s late, you’re tired. You probably had a dream. Lets get you to bed.” Alexis wearily reached out for his arm.
“No!” He screamed, yanking himself away from her “No! I saw him. I saw him and you don’t believe me.” Ethan’s lip began to quiver. “ You told me he’d come back one day and he did, and you don’t believe me!”
‘You don’t believe me’ was all the boy could repeat as he began to sob.
After that night something had shifted within Ethan. The once hopeful boy had turned bitter and resentful. The memories of his Father were real to him, at one point, but as time went on the young boy slowly began to lose faith in those memories. Perhaps his Father had been a dream, one he wanted so badly to come to fruition, but one that never would — no matter how hard he wished upon a star.
#short#ethan#ethan porter arendsen#alexis#alexis porter#A for amber#song inspiration (Somewhere only we know)#The Lost Souls of the Stars
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// TAG DUMP; SELVES + OOC
#{ closing the storybook. | ooc. }#{ call to arms. | promo. }#{ calling to those who can hear. | self promo. }#{ the goldest heart of all. | tara ic. }#{ the brightest mind of her generation. | tara musings. }#{ childish glee; wondrous innocence. | tara aes. }#{ just a little girl; but not alone in the big world. | tara hcs. }#{ a soul draped in silver. | terri ic. }#{ lonely thoughts behinds closed doors. | terri musings. }#{ dark shining eyes- inspecting every inch. | terri aes. }#{ a lost boy; with the will to protect what he holds dear. | terri hcs. }
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