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pinkexpertnerdghost · 10 months

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Watch and Be Amazed!

Lyney x Gn!Reader

Synopsis: As a simple person with a boring job, you set out to travel the nations. You attend a renowned magic show only to be suddenly placed in the shared spotlight with the magical duo.

GIF by @c6jpg

{ i'm still exploring Fontaine but quick heads up on mentioning new locations, dw its spoiler free about the archon quest}

General: SFW, fluffy, magic tricks, Lyney being extra and sneaky, feat Lynette

A/N: i love him. Cheeky little guy with his equally cheeky little grin mulkin cat- I didn’t think I’d like him this much but he easily sneaked himself into my heart already also because I recently got him- I just wanna squish him (endearingly)

“ Voila! And now in its place are our feathered friends taking flight!” The magician exclaimed as a small swarm of doves flew out of his hands. Just seconds ago, he held a gorgeous bouquet of arranged daisies and prisma like roses, complete with adorned white ribbons and lace. The small bush of green and flora had simply vanished and transformed into a mass of white feathers.

Your awes become a droplet in the sea of gasps and astonishment from the people around you . Pushing yourself to the end of your cushy seat, you stare ahead in amazement and curiosity.

Even though you sat some rows away from the front seats, you were mesmerized by the trick. You were certain the bouquet had practically melted and shifted into the cocoon of feathers. At least, that’s how it appeared to your eyes.

Trailing the doves as they flew above the audience, you unconsciously let out a small laugh of joy like that of an entertained child. The doves flew around freely, some reaching high atop the Opera House’s stretching ceiling and some flew closer to the audience barely grazing above their heads.

You had been traveling for weeks, as you were lacking some excitement in your mundane life as a simple shop clerk. It had a well off pay and the owner was kind. Yet every passing day became more boring than the last. Soon enough, the days would weld and mend together in your memory as a tapestry of a lackluster pattern. You were afraid it would overshadow a great portion of your lifetime.

As a shop clerk, you had seen many travelers coming and going, talking about the beautiful sceneries across the rest of Teyvat they have witnessed, varies dishes you’ve never tried before being described as mouthwatering, the wonderful cultures, festivities and traditions people from around this world took part in. It had always left you in a state of entrance and jealousy for them, as they would have the freedom and determination to see the worlds wonders with their own eyes.

Seeing your yearning gaze and saddened expression when the travelers or adventurers left through the front door, your employer had generously given you some vacation time. You were one of your boss’s most dedicated workers, often swooping in for a fellow coworker if they fell ill or couldn’t make it otherwise. You have done more than enough to earn yourself this time off.

And so, you took your life by the rings and were off into the road. Traveling from one nation to the other and to the now where you were. In the seat in one of the most impressive buildings you have ever seen.

From the moment you boarded off the Aquabus; the little guides being one of the cutest beings you’ve ever seen; you oogled and awed in the splendor around you. Fontaine had been one leap of a cultural shock for you. Sure, sometimes you moved boxes of bits and bobs of Fontaine imported trinkets onto shelves, but seeing this much advanced technology was a bit exhilarating as well as a bit imposing

However, something there was something that immediately caught your eye when walking about. On a bulletin board was an array of multicolored posters and newsletter, but the bright red one with a grinning cat in the hat caught your gaze immediately.

“ Come and behold A magical performance performed by renowned Magicians Lyney and Lynette! ”

The names struck a cord in your memory. Ah, that's right! You had heard a great deal about a very specific Magic show in Fontaine. You remembered it being brought up a good number of times back in the shop. The way people would sound excited and how they could barely contain themselves trying to describe a magic trick as best they could.

Since you were in the area you had managed to investigate it and wound up purchasing a ticket to go see.

“ Back to the stage my feathery entourage!! Being in the presence of such a wonderful audience is indeed riveting, but I’m going to need the spotlight back to preform the next trick, haha!” The magician Lyney said with a pleading laugh. The doves seem to have understood them as they all flew back onto the stage. From either side of the giant velvet curtain, the flew behind it disappearing into the shadow.

“ For this next trick, I’m going to need a hand!” He exclaimed while putting his hands on his hips. He then put a hand on his forehead and looked around the area while squinting his eyes. From the right side of the stage came another person. She had on a similar uniform to her twin brother, adorned with teals, blues and grays. It was a counterpart to the reds, pinks, and plum Lyney wore in his intricate performer’s outfit.

Yet they both had the motif of that same toothy grinning kitty you saw tagging the corner’s of the promotional posters.

Lynette had walked behind Lyney and tapped his shoulder twice with a stoic expression. Lyney had turned dramatically around on his heel, immediately stopping his dire search for help.

“Ah, It seems as though Lynette has come to the rescue!” He cheered and with a grateful hand gesture divided the audience's attention to Lynette. She stood there facing the crowd with a curt expression. Lynette seemed to be the polar opposite of her brother. While Lyney was loud, extravagant and energetic, his assistant and sister was quieter, docile and seemed unmoved with the theatrics. However, to you she was as equally impressive as the red Magician.

In an earlier trick where they’d pull objects directly out of flat cards, Lynette had elegantly swiped off a parasol, a tea cup with piping hot tea given the steam, and an adorable hat with that grinning black cat. All while keeping a calm disposition as if she knew everything and anything that was to come. It boggled you how she managed to slip the illustrations to real physical objects.

But then again, the Magicians never reveal their trade secrets.

Lyney tapped his cheek before he spoke again. “It seems as if we will need a little more help to perform this magic trick, wouldn’t you agree Lynette?”

Lynette simply nodded.

Lyney’s shoulders relaxed as he twirled around to face the audience. He held his hands behind his back as he paced back and forth. His eyes never leave the audience.

“ For this trick, It will require three people.”

There were very quiet, almost inaudible murmurs and whispers in the crowd. You paid them no mind and kept your eyes focused on the stage. In your mind, you were guessing how the next trick would go.

Lyney stopped center stage.

“ I can see your enthusiasm and excitement! In that case, I shall pick one person from the crowd who will help Lynette and I out!” He said with a jovial grin. His cat-like eyes scanned around the crowd. After this, many people kept their eyes on the Magician scoping out for an available assistant.

Seeing as you weren’t in the first row or a local, you have settled that your chance of being picked was slim. So instead of paying attention to the main stage and spotlight, you turned your head from side to side. Envisioning the lucky person who would be fished out of the ocean of filled seats. Perhaps it would be the beautiful woman with quite the attractive headpiece sitting a row down from you. Or maybe, it would be the little boy three five seats to your left practically bouncing in his seat chanting to let it be him.

The choice could be anyone but yourself.

“ You my dear! Could you help Lynette and I out with this trick?” Lyney’s voice resounded once more.

Your eyes squirted suddenly as a bright source of light was now trained above you. Sinking back onto your seat, you turn to face the stage.

Those cat-like lilac eyes stared directly into your own [E/C] ones. Alongside with the deep royal purple eyes belonging to his assistant Lynette. Looking around and behind, you noticed the two people beside you glance at you with slight surprise.

You pointed at yourself just to make sure. You didn’t know if you made a face with the sudden surprise of the spotlight, but Lyney chuckled in amusement.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he nodded, his hair bobbing along with his head and sturdy hat. His laughter made you feel a bit fuzzy in the chest. Maybe you were just starstruck.

“ Yes you. If it is alright, could you perhaps follow the staff by your row to escort you on stage?” He said, extending a hand to a person in a theater mask and green vest standing at the end of the row. His lilac eyes never left you.

It was hard to say, but you could assume he was silently communicating with you. His soft eyes were patient and still, unlike his theatrical energy he demonstrated earlier.

‘ Are you okay with this? ‘

He didn’t mind the sudden recess of silence, in fact it only added to the build up to the magic trick. It wasn’t long until you blinked, breaking yourself out of your star-stricken surprise.

You nodded at Lyney, to which he gripped the brim of his hat quietly tipping it to you with a satisfied grin.

“ Very well, please follow the staff down the aisle while we set up on stage!”

After squeezing down your row and next to the staff member with the mask, you followed them as they led you towards the stage. The staff member was kind enough to guide you through the dimly lit place, your eyes were examining the person. Their mask is what stuck with you, you’ve never seen anything like it. It was both beautifully crafted yet it gave you a small chill of danger and mystic. It was probably made for this purpose of the show.

No elemental magic of those who wielded visions, but instead a tightrope thinly strung between reality and fantasy.

The stage was elevated but after climbing up the stairs onto the polished stage. Lyney beckoned you to come up next to him. You shuffled closer, both your hands behind your back fidgeting in a nervous manner.

The spotlight was now back onto Lyney and Lynette and now you as well.

“ Might I know the name of the new assistant I’ll be working with temporarily?” He asked as he now faced you. Lynette came to his side, her violet eyes glazing over you with relaxed attentiveness.

You felt your mouth become a bit dry. “ I’m [Name].” You spoked normally.

Lyney bowed, taking off his tophat bringing it close to his chest.

“ It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear [Name]” He bounced back up, flipping his hat back onto his head.

You shifted on your foot and that seemed to have caught the attention of the magical duo.

“ Hmm, are you perhaps nervous?” He asked. “ It is quite alright. Whenever the light is trained on you, the feeling of stage fright comes at you like the onslaught of tidal waves.” He said, in a non projecting voice. He still sounded loud enough for the audience to hear, but his words weren’t exaggerated in a way to make you feel queasy. Instead, it sounded like he was cheering you on, a little push of confidence he would share with you.

Maybe you were overthinking it. He is a performer so its his job to turn up the charm towards the audience.

Lynette had subtly sent you a reassuring little smile. She walked up next to you and stood by you now.

“ Perhaps, you may just have some butterflies in your stomach. It happens to the best of us!” He spoke. His gloved hand came up to you.

“ May I have what’s in your side pocket?” His eyes shifted down to your right pocket. Confused, you reach down into your pocket and feel around. There was a smooth and flat object that you didn’t remember having there, so you slipped it out.

In your hand was a playing card. It wasn’t an ordinary playing card. It looked to be one of the card props that belonged to the two Magicians. Figuring he wanted it back; without you having the faintest Idea of how it got there in the first place; you handed it to him.

He grabbed the card and raised it up to his face to inspect it.

“Aha! Just as I thought. You had made a bundle of these pesky little butterflies.” He slipped the card back to his palm. He twirled back to face you with a triumphant smile as if he’d found a treasure chest. “ Fear not, for I will rid you of this troubling kaleidoscope!”

With that being said, he tossed the card over your head.

Or at least, a zipping card was what you were expecting.

Instead, a small little tornado of little butterflies escapes from Lyneys hand. They fluttered around you in a tunnel-like pattern.

Completely forgetting about the audience, you craned your hand up and stared in awe. Looking closely, some butterflies had little trails of violet shimmer. The butterflies themselves didn't seem to be real butterflies. On some you managed to see the wings to be made out of the back of playing cards.

The butterflies dispersed out onto the crowd, until each one vanished without a trace.

“Now then, are you feeling better?” Lyney asked, both hands on his hips.

You nodded with a smile on your face. The small pit of nervousness was now reduced to a grain.

“Wonderful! And, it seems as if you have magic in you yourself, what luck!” Lyney exclaimed. Lynette all the while silently side eyed her brother and his antics.

“Now then if you may follow Lynette, she will guide you to this next trick or a trio.” he smiled.

Lynette had raised a hand to you in order to take it. You complied and took her hand as she led you behind the curtain.

“ Are you okay? I know Lyney can be a bit over the top, but if at any point feeling bad, let us know.” Lynette spoke calmly to you.

“ I’m alright now. I just wasn't expecting to get picked.” You said honestly.

Lynette nodded. “ It's like that for most who get chosen.”

She guided you towards a little box which was decorated with a little four pointed gold star in the center. The box was relatively small, reaching from the ground to knee level

“ When they take the box you’ll have to stand on it. I’ll stand in my own box next to you. Just follow Lyney’s instructions.” She said,

“Also, brace your feet after the curtain falls.”

You listened closely and nodded.

“Alright. Got it.”

Lynette hummed.

Behind the big red curtain you heard the crowd laugh and clap.

“And now for the anticipated trick, shall I have my two assistants step back into the light?”

Lynette and you came back onto the stage. Again in the limelight, you noticed the two boxes parallel to each other.

“ For this next trick, both my assistants shall switch their places before your very eyes.” Lyney spoke calmly.

“But wait a moment. This is a simple trick one could accomplish by simply walking across the stage to the other boxes. This trick is sounding more like a runway show than magic.” Lyney sighed in defeat. In a quick one eighty mood switch, Lyney perked up and raised his chin high.

“ But no, dear spectators in the crowd. This trick shall be done with neither of my assistants leaving the confines of their one by one area!” Lyney exclaimed, flapping his little side cape in the process.

Lynette turned and gave you a look, a very specific look. You took it to get on the box and you walked over to the one closest to you.

“ Now then, a little tent shall fall on top of both of them. Switching places without jumping, walking or running is a lot more exhausting than it sounds.” As soon as he said that, above you began to descend a festive red tent.

It slowly descended until the dark velvet of the inside tent obscure your vision of the crowd and them of yourself. You could only hear the echoing voice of Lyney as the crowd was now fully silenced in anticipation.

The words of Lynette rang in your mind, as you looked down to your feet.

“ For you see, the most can happen within the blink of an eye.”

You felt the box underneath you dip slightly. Barely enough time to even gasp, you had fallen through the solid box beneath you. Quickly you bent your knees and positioned yourself to be able to absorb the momentum of your fall.

Once landing soundly, you looked up to see how you had fallen. In the ceiling was a rectangular indentation of a trapdoor.

You heard a ‘psst’ to your right. There you say Lynette making a quick hand gesture to switch places; motioning to you and the spot beneath her feet.

Speeding over to her, you took little but key notice in your new surroundings. The walls were barren, the air had slight dust, and light from the stage lights barely made it through the miniature nooks and crannies of the floorboards. You were underground.

Once getting to where lynette last stood, you waited. Looking around where you stood there was a small ladder behind you.

Suddenly a similar trap door like the one where you initially stood, swung open.

Taking this as a new signal, you climbed onto the ladder trying to make as little noise as you could. Once above ground, the trap door that was once open shut, making the ground below you stable enough to stand on.

“ As such, a walk across this stage could be reduced down to none!”

You heard a harsh step down onto the floor followed by a snap of a finger.

The tent around you was pulled back up at lighting speed leaving you stunned in place. The crowd ahead was looking back and forth between the place where you once were and to where you are now. A roar of whistles and claps was heard.

Looking to where you once were, stood Lynette waving at the crowd. The same stoic expression on her face.

Lyney came skipping up to your side.

“ How are you feeling dear [Name]? I hope you aren't too disoriented by the little trip you took.”

You looked at him, he had a proud grin on his face. The light shown down was overshadowed by the brim of his top hat. And yet, his eyes and distinguishable teardrop mark on his right cheek made you feel all sorts of flustered all over again.

Then again you noticed just how packed the Opera is. You had forgotten momentarily that there was an audience. The showers of cheers came down like a bolt of lightning striking the still water.

“I’m fine, just a bit perplexed.” You shook your head trying to process what had just happened in what felt like a fraction of a minute.

“ Oh my, it seems you may have been slightly shaken when vanishing from one spot to the other.” He hummed.

“ That's it! I shall make it up to you! But I’ll have to get you back to your original box.” He said tapping his curled up hand onto his open palm.

He stood up onto the tips of his toes, as from your height atop the box managed to put you at a larger distance from him. Figuring he might tell you something , you leaned down slightly.

“ When the tent drops on you once more, close your eyes. Don’t open them until you hear me say, Hat. Trust me, I’m sure this trick will put a blinding smile on your face.” He said quietly, a hand placed by his mouth blocking it from the audience ahead.

You weren’t sure what he meant or what would happen but somehow, you trusted him. Maybe it was his pretty face, charming personality, or simply because a famous and professional performer.

A little breathy chuckle escaped him before he leaned away and waltzed back to the front and center. Something about him smiling and laughing made your heart almost pop.

You internally battled these pestering thoughts; You were just starstruck! A celebrity crush, don’t let it get to you. Especially in front of a massive crowd watching your every move!

You took some short breaths in and faced ahead onto the wall behind the audience. You didn’t want to let this confusing feeling consume you.

“And now, one final trick before our amazing temporary assistant bids adieu.” He sighed. From his chest he pulled out a white handkerchief he blew into. The crowd laughed at his little mopping gag.

“ It was a pleasure to have you on stage with us, [Name].” He said before swiping the used hanky away. It disappeared into red and white sparks into the air.

The tent above you descended once again, and the moment you found yourself in the shaded confines you closed your eyes. You could only listen to what was happening around you.

“Now then, why don’t we send our new friend off with a grand finale?”

The surrounding noise of the crowd murmuring came through as buzzing. You felt the ground once more give out underneath you. Holding in your breath you prepared for what may have come next.

Something, or someone caught you. You felt the sudden mass underneath you, and suddenly there was a small breeze passing into your face. Your eyes squeezed shut the entire time.

Suddenly, you felt your feet touch a solid floor. You stood up, the person letting you go as you stabilized yourself.

“ And so, they shall appear where they once were at the drop of a hat!”

You heard it. Cracking open one eye you see once again a velvet curtain of a tent. Blinking, adjusting to the light, the tent was pulled up.

This time there was some cheer for a few seconds. The sudden Huhs? And murmurs slowly began to take a hold of the audience. Curious as to the mood shift you look around you.

Lyney, no longer wearing his signature tophat that had been left sitting on the floor.

Where Lynette was supposed to be, she was no more. Instead, there was a small top hat lying top down on the box.

Lyney, surprised, went over to the hat.

“Lynette? Oh Lyneeette? Where did you vanish off to?” He took the hat and looked inside of it, as if his sister were inside the hat.

You were slightly puzzled at first. Where on Teyvat could she have gone? Your doubts were suddenly clouded by an obvious truth.

This had to be part of the show.

So you kept your eyes on the male twin, anticipating what he will do next.

Giving up in calling out to his sister, still holding onto the small hat in his hands, he walked over to where you stood.

“ It seems that she won’t show herself unless we make her appear out of this hat. [Name], if you would.” He then extended the small hat in my direction.

You delicately grabbed the brim area closest to you. Lyney let go, and you looked inside the empty hat. The material felt slightly heavy but the intricate seamless pattern woven into the pitch black fabric made you closely look at it.

You heard a small tapping noise, you looked back to the magician as he tapped the back of his hand. Putting two and two together, you quickly flip the hat upright.

You mimicked Lyney’s motion on the hat’s top about three times.

The first tap, colorful feathers floated to the ground.

The second tap, petals of flowers twirled on their way down.

The final tap, a deck of prop cards spilt out and crashing against the stage floor with clicks and claps.

“Looks like she isn’t in there.” Lyney quipped. You were once again thrown into utter confusion. The comedic way the crowd gasped after one object came after another object from the empty hat. At some point the reactions of surprise slowly turned into snickers and giggles of amusement.

Lyney placed a hand on his hip and scratched his chin. “ Try doing it again with the hat upside down. Maybe, a different approach will convince her to come out.”

So, you turn the hat over. Sneakily taking a small peak inside, and as you suspected it was empty.

How does he pull these things off? Seriously! How?!?

Replicating your previous action, you tapped the brim.

A small puff of smoke and confetti made you step back. Out of the hat a cat sprung!

Or was it a cat?

It was a big cat face attached to a coiled spring.

It was cute! It had the signature toothy grin the show’s mascot had, yet it had it turned upside down in a frowny face. One eye has a teal star and the other has a teal teardrop. It even had a little bowtie making it a very fashionable cat creature.

It turned to face you as its ears twitched. You’re eyes locked with its own strange one and you found yourself in a staring contest….with the giant cat head on a spring of all things.

“ Oh dear, it looks like Bogglecat seemed to have answered instead of Lynette” Lyney laughed.

Tip Tap Tip Tap

You and Lyney turned to face Lyney’s hat that had just shook slightly on the floor.

Poof!

The hat had blasted up into the air and below the hat there was Lynette. Slightly obscured by the turquoise colored fog.

“ Here I am.” Lynette spoked up.

Grabbing the brim of Lyney’s hat she tipped it and bowed before the audience. The audience clapped and some people even stood up from their seats.

The Bogglecat in the hat leaped from your hands and jumped over towards the spotlight where Lynette was. Lyney came running over to you and carefully grabbed your now free hand.

“ C’mon, the audience is waiting for the final bows.” He hushed at you with that permanently charming smile of his. His pale blonde hair bounced along as he urged you to join him and his sister. With no reason to refuse, you ran along with him. You felt the corner of your mouth curl up in a giddy smile. Now unafraid of the public you stood in the bright lights with your chest held high.

Lynette tossed Lyney’s hat into the air, landing it perfectly on Lyney’s head. The cat in the hat jumped right into Lynette's hand. Once she caught it, she twirled it around in her hand like a skilled juggler. The cat suddenly vanished inside the hat, and the small hat now was held against her head.

“ This has been Lyney and Lynette’s Magic show! Thank You all for watching!” The three of you held hands; Lyney at the center, Lynette to his right, and you to his left. Lifting your hands up, you three did a dramatic bow. This audience applauded one final time for the performance. It was the loudest applause you had heard during your time in the Opera Epiclese.

Slowly people had started to leave the theater, with the front entrance reopened many people had started to trickle out into the lobby. This left fewer and fewer people in the main room, the Opera house becoming

You were preparing to step down the stage staircase until you heard someone call out to you.

“ Wait, [Name]! If you could spare a moment?” It was a voice you had quickly grown familiar with.

The top hat with the plum colored ribbon, the pale blonde tuffet that covered just above his right eye, and that teardrop marking beneath the same right eye. Lyney came speedily towards you, his sister Lynette following a bit behind. Unlike him, she calmly walked over and that stoic expression on her face felt a bit more done than what you had seen.

“Hm? What is it Mister Lyney?” You stopped and asked politely. Looking over the male twin you glanced at his sister “Miss Lynette?”

“That was a splendid performance you made on stage! You went along just swimmingly with our act.” Lyney gushed.

Once again you felt flustered. Out of all things, a professional magician complimenting you on a magic trick? You scratched your cheek.

“ I was just following you guys. Really, if anyone should be taking compliments it is you two!” You spoke with enthusiasm. “ The way Miss Lynette pulled out the items right off the cards, or when you made my ‘ stomach butterflies ‘ disappear. It really was a treat to see!” You felt your face getting a bit warmer as you continued to spill your excitement into words.

“ This will definitely be a nice memory I won't be forgetting any time soon!”

Lyney chuckled and even Lynette’s eyes grew slightly larger with interest.

“ You’re too kind!” Lyney chuckled, his pale face getting the slightest bit pink in the cheeks. “ I don’t believe I’ve seen your face in our crowd before. Are you maybe a tourist coming from a distance to see our show?”

You nodded. “ I am as a matter of fact. I don’t get out much to say the least.” You confessed.

“ I’ve heard about your magic show for some time now, traveling groups have brought it up time and time again. Fontaine was my next destination so I took the opportunity to come see it myself.”

You smiled gently. “ This was my first legitimate magical performance I had the fortune of attending. Not to mention getting randomly selected to participate! Thank you for the fun time, Mister Lyney and Miss Lynette.”

Lyney and Lynette listened with great interest.

“ I see. Thus, making this show a memorable experience for you was all the more rewarding then.” Lyney took off his hat and brought it to his chest.

“We are both happy to have put a beautiful smile on your lovely face!~” Lyney very gently lifted your hand. Bringing it close to his face, he placed a small almost ghostly peck.

Okay. Now you definitely felt your face may have caught on fire.

Lyney might have noticed your sudden flustered face. The sneaky magician sent a very brief wink with a smile. Not just any smile. This smile had a more feline nature to it; as if he enjoyed seeing such a reaction from you.

He lowered your hand back down, and flipped his hat back onto his head. That cat-like smirk was nowhere to be seen anymore. Innocently smiling at you, he laughed. It sounded slightly nervous.

“ Well, if you will be around Fonaine for a while longer, find us by the Aquabus station. We might just have spare time to show you around!”

Slipping your hand behind your back, you tried to reply to his friendly invitation.

“ Mhm! Aquabus station. Go it!” you spoke in broken segments.

Oh dear, maybe it's time you’d step outside for some fresh air.

“ I think I should get going now. Who knows how long the people traffic is in the lobby now. It was great meeting you. Your cat mascots are cute and now I shall leave” You had begun to word vomit as you were shuffling away.

“ Bye bye!”

Facing away from the magic duo, you speed walk down onto the carpeted floor. Not daring to look back, you heard the sound of an amused giggle and an exasperated sigh.

“ Are you proud of yourself? You almost made them faint with your antics.” Lynette tipped the back of Lyney’s hat. It fell forward and off but he had quickly caught it before it hit the ground.

“ Hey, I just wanted to make evening a little more magical is all. It was the most I can do from withholding them back from leaving"

"Right. And you had to tease them until they were red in the face."

Lyney stared at his sister for a moment, until he thought.

He felt a small hitch of embarrassment in his chest realizing something.

"I- Uh, didn't go to far with the card letter, right?" He nervously asked.

Lynette sighed and shook her head.

"Brother, most of the time you don't even need the spotlight to be over dramatic."

Once you were outside and looking up at the sky. The skies were different in every spot you had been. Here in Fontaine, you could barely see the twinkling stars.

As you sighed contently, you made your way over to the hotel you had planned to stay in for the time. As you shifted you felt something shift alongside you in your sleeve. It was cold and smooth.

Surprised, you dug into your sleeve.

It was a playing card. A prop playing card.

“ I hope you had a magical Evening, [Name]. Meet me by the bench near the potted flowers by the station at noon tomorrow. If you show up, best prepare for I still have tricks up my sleeve that will leave you dazzled! “

There was a little doodle of a toothy grinning cat.

A/N: Should I make a part two? Idk maybe. EDIT: PART TWO HERE

#i wrote fanfiction because I can nothing is stopping me from expressing my sheer love and happiness for this little magic man #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin lyney #genshin lyney x reader #fontaine #lyney and lynette #lyney x reader #lyney genshin #genshin imagines #genshin oneshots #genshin fluff #fluff #genshin fanfic #fontaine siblings #lynette #lyney

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pepsi-cola-soda · 1 year

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Hi 👋🏽 I saw you were open for requests and was wondering if we could have some headcanons for teen! ford having a crush on gn! reader who he met on the beach one day when they were maybe around Wendy’s age? and maybe they shake Ford’s hand and don’t freak out like other people did. no rush, of course. please, and thank you.

Faded Photographs and Sandy Six Fingered Handshakes

This was fun to write :] I hope you enjoy! Also side note, I didn’t realise you said HCs and I wrote a one shot instead-

Teen!Ford x Teen!NB!Reader

Ford was no stranger to the beach. It was a familiar and safe place for him to be after school, a place where he would study in the dunes or chat with his twin brother on the swings.

However, today was a little different.

He was not alone on the beach, spotting a figure on the rocks beside the tide pools. As he approached, you came into focus and he could see what you were doing. You were crouched next to the tide pools, quickly writing something down in the journal you held before sticking your hand back into the cold water of the pools. Once you found something worth studying, you pulled your hand out of the waters, smiling as you looked at whatever creature or shell you had retrieved.

Curiosity got the better of him and Ford walked closer towards you, determined to learn about you. Carefully navigating the rocky terrain of the tide pools, Ford called out a soft ‘hello!’ to alert you to his presence. You whipped your head around to face him, surprised that someone had joined you in the tide pools. Gently returning the sea slug to the tide pool, you stood up and dried your hands off on your pants, “hello there!” You walked to Ford, making your way towards him with ease. The bespectacled teen watched in awe as you jumped around, clearly familiar and comfortable with the rocky ground before you ended up a few feet away from him.

“Hi! I’m (y/n)!” You wore a bright smile as you held out a hand for a handshake, which Ford was hesitant to accept. “Stanford, Stanford Pines,” he said as he took your hand in his, giving you a firm handshake with a nervous smile. When you didn’t let go of his hand, he began to panic on the inside. Had you noticed? Were you going to freak out and call him a weirdo? A freak? He was about to pull his hand away but you spoke up and he froze, preparing himself for ridicule.

But it never came.

“You have six fingers!” You exclaimed as you held his hand in both your hands, pure joy and amazement lacing your voice, “that’s so neat! You’re like… like a mythical creature! Or an anomaly! Not in a weird way- but in a cool way!“ You ramblings continued for a moment as you looked at his hand before looking up at him with a bright smile. Ford was blushing bright red, eyes wide in shock and surprise listening to you talk about him in such a positive manner. His heart began to beat faster, pattering away in his chest and he could swear you could hear it. Little did he know, the seed of a crush had planted itself in his heart.

“What were you doing out here in the tide pools?” Ford asked and you smiled brightly before opening your journal. You held up your most recent page, littered with notes and sketches of shells and small sea creatures, “taking notes and drawing the cool little things I find!” Closing the book again, you grabbed his hand before pulling him along to a tide pool, “here, let me show you!”

You let go of his hand once you reached a tide pool and you crouched, sticking your hand into the cold water as Ford crouched next to you. After fishing around for a moment, you found a little creature, gently grabbing it and pulling it out of the water. “Ta-da! A hermit crab!” You said, clearly proud of yourself as you grabbed his hand again and carefully set the little animal in his palm. He watched as the creature slowly emerged from its shell, wandering around on his hands as he smiled brightly. Ford looked up at you from the hermit crab you had placed in his hands, “are you here often? I’d like to talk and hang out with you more.” You looked up from the water before nodding, “I’m here almost everyday! We can hang out here and at school too,” you replied as you dried off your hands and stood up. Ford placed the crab back into the tide pool before standing as well, drying his hands on the front of his shirt.

“Here, let’s take a picture!” You exclaimed as you rummaged through your bag, whipping out a film camera with a proud grin. “S-sure! But wouldn’t we need someone else to take it?” Ford asked as you cranked the lever to move the film. “Nope! I’m just gonna guess and hope it turns out right,” you replied with a bright smile, chuckling at his surprised reaction. You slung an arm over Ford’s shoulders, pulling him close to you as you extended your arm with the camera facing towards the two of you, “say Belgian waffles!” You exclaimed with a laugh, your finger hovering over the shutter button. “Belgian waffles!” The two of you said in unison as you pressed the button.

With a bright flash, the picture was taken, documenting the first of many meetings between the two of you.

Ford smiled to himself as he gazed at the black and white photo, hearing you call out for him to join you and the younger Pines twins. That day on the beach was a fond memory, one he held close to his heart. He set the picture frame down before readjusting it slightly, allowing the light to glint off the glass and reflect off his wedding band before he turned to leave the room in search for you and the kids.

#gravity falls x reader #ford pines x reader #stanford pines #x reader #one shot #request #gravity falls #fanfic

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apteryxparvus · 7 months

Note

hope you're having a pleasant day, also congratulations on your 100 followers.

i was wondering if i could ask a street musician reader and a passerby scara fic. ik it doesn't have much explanation but i hope i can leave it to you😞

Thank you! I'm a bit late with this request, but I hope you enjoy it. I completely fell in love with the idea of Scaramouche and street musician reader 🥰

Part of my ✨ 100 followers milestone event ✨ that ran from September 2nd to September 9th.

Pairing — Scaramouche / Reader

Word count — 2,922 words

Content warning — mentions of alcohol

Scaramouche strolls along the bustling stalls of Port Ormos, immersing himself in the symphony of sounds. The air buzzes with the echoes of lively merchants and customers trying to haggle over prices. Kids dart around, gleeful shouts adding to the cacophony. The rhythmic clatter of artisans’ tools echo from the nearby workshops.

The fragrant aroma of spices mingles with the smell of freshly baked goods. Nearby, a vendor proudly displays an array of ripe fruits — from plump and succulent Zaytun peaches, to imported Lavender melons and spicy Jueyun chilies.

Scaramouche pauses, and his gaze meets the warm smile of the vendor. He stays silent, feeling the weight of the curious gaze upon him. With a soft humph, he lowers his wide-brimmed hat, casting a shadow over his face. He continues on his way, his steps purposeful and gaze fixed straight ahead — he tells himself he must stay fixated on the mission, that he must not get sidetracked by the vibrant distractions, nor draw any attention to himself.

He remains composed, a ghost in the crowd, blending seamlessly.

Yet when Scaramouche turns the corner, his hearing is enveloped by a soft voice. A familiar melody resounds in the air, and his heart skips a beat as he recognizes it instantly. He cannot help but be drawn towards the source of the enchanting voice.

There, in the midst of the bustling street, you stand, a lone street performer.

His steps falter as he approaches you. He stands between the other onlookers, his presence like a moth drawn to a flame.

You’re unaware of Scaramouche’s inner turmoil, and continue to raise your voice, your own rendition of the Inazuman song filled with burning passion and purity.

“Kare wa yasei no iro ni michita sekai o samayoi masu,

Jishin no seigen wa naku, kokoro wa fukaku.

Kabukimono, kabukimono…”

Time stands still. The lyrics evoke a lost meaning known only to him, memories he had long locked away. His chest constricts as he feels the weight of the past press upon him.

The last notes of the tune float into the air, and the crowd erupts in response. A few individuals drop mora into your hat, expressing their gratitude for the performance. You nod in sincere appreciation, a humble smile making its way to your lips.

Scaramouche waits patiently for the last of the onlookers to disperse. You crouch on the ground, gathering the coins and placing them into a leather pouch. The Inazuman steps closer to you, his hat casting a shadow over your figure. The weight of his presence draws your attention, and you raise your head, eyes wide with curiosity.

There’s an air of mystery cloaking him.

You straighten up and pat down your pants. “You’re Inazuman, right?” you enquire. His eyes widen for a split second, confirming your suspicions.

“The song,” he starts, struggling to find the right words.

“The Ballad of a Kabukimono,” you reply, a knowing smile on the corner of your lips. “A forgotten tale of a wandering Inazuman eccentric. No one really knows its origins.”

“The melody is different,” Scaramouche states.

You let out a sheepish chuckle, scratching the back of your neck. “Yes,” you admit. “The original felt too somber for my taste. I want to make people feel joy, rather than melancholy.”

Scaramouche huffs, muttering something under his breath. A hint of indignation stirs within you — if he has so displeased with the performance, why did he stay until the very end? He had the opportunity to walk away at any moment, yet he didn’t.

A rebuttal stirs within you, but before you can react, the Inazuman reaches into his belongings and takes out a hefty pouch, throwing it at your feet. The coins jiggle, and you watch speechless as he turns his back to you and leaves without uttering another word.

You stand amidst the scattered coins, confusion deepening. Stooping low, you gather the shiny mora, cursing at yourself for being so caught up in the moment, you had not even thought to ask his name.

The same night, Scaramouche strolls through the now-empty streets. Once bustling, the market now stands quiet and deserted, with only a handful of passersby leisurely walking past the closed stalls. Silence permeates the air.

His puppet body carries a deep ache.

His mission was a success — he had effortlessly infiltrated the nearby treasure hoarder camp, quickly retrieving the stolen Ruin Guard cores, along with a plethora of Fontanian and Snezhnayan machinery. The thieves were caught off guard; and he didn’t even need to rely on his Anemo Vision.

But despite the ease of the task and the triumph alongside it, he feels weariness settle upon his mind. A sense of monotony weighs upon him.

And the lingering melody of the song from his past stubbornly clings to his thoughts. It infuriates him, intensifying the restlessness he feels. He finds himself revisiting the memory of your voice — how it soared, building to a powerful crescendo, how you carefully enunciated each syllable of the language long forgotten.

He passes by the spot where he had witnessed your performance — it’s empty. He mentally chides himself for foolishly believing you would remain there throughout the entire day. The generous sum he had given you, along with the contributions from the other onlookers, would undoubtedly provide you a temporary respite from busking.

He feels a slight twinge of disappointment.

His weary gaze catches the flickering lights of a nearby tavern, the warm glow beckoning him. He heads towards the establishment, hoping to find some form of solace in the warmth and anonymity of the tavern; hoping to dull the ache within his soul with a drink or two.

Scaramouche steps inside the tavern, welcomed by the warm glow of the low-hanging lights. The wooden walls are adorned with paintings of the lush green foliage of Dharma Forest, while grainy photographs of Sumeru’s bustling cities add depth to the surroundings. Lively conversations fill the air — cheery and tipsy voices rise and fall; the noise mingles with the clinking of glasses.

His gaze sweeps across the crowded tavern, searching for a secluded place to settle. His eyes lock onto a hidden nook, and there, nestled in that corner, he spots your familiar figure. You’re sitting there, oblivious to the world, engrossed in your own daydreams, with a glass of a milky, effervescent beverage.

As if guided by an invisible force, he takes a few long strides towards the table and takes a seat beside you.

You look up, startled, but your gaze narrows in a split second. “Well, well, well,” you say, a hint of amusement flickering in your eyes. “We meet again, mysterious wanderer.”

“Mind if I join?”

“Of course, please, have a seat.” As he settles, you take a sip from your palm wine, the milky and powerfully sweet flavors dancing on your tongue. “It seems our encounters are becoming more frequent, no?”

Scaramouche scoffs, and you take another leisurely sip from the drink.

The silence around you carries a hint of lingering tension.

“Say,” you break the stillness. “Would a drink or two make you a better conversation partner?” you lightheartedly joke. “I am willing to offer the first round.”

The male smirks, mischief dancing in his indigo eyes. He leans back in his chair. “Since you’re probably using the mora I gave you for the drinks, I’d say the first round is actually on me.”

“I assure you, the drinks I buy are funded by my own pocket money.” You lean in closer, locking eyes with him.

“Regardless, I accept your offer.”

“Two palm wines coming right up,” you exclaim, already on your way to order from the gruff-looking bartender.

Navigating through the crowd back to the table, you carefully balance the newly obtained drinks. You place them before Scaramouche and sit down. A moment later, you lift your glass in a toast. “Kanpai!” you exclaim in old Inazuman.

Scaramouche’s eyes fixate on yours for a brief moment, before he slowly raises his own glass. “You speak old Inazuman,” he comments.

“A few phrases here and there,” you admit, a flustered look spreading across your face. “I lived in Tatarasuna as a child, and I had the opportunity to learn a bit from the locals.”

The mention of Tatarasuna brings forth a wave of melancholic nostalgia; of fleeting memories of joyous faces, caked in soothe, of cooking lessons and exhilarating sword dances. He closes his eyes and sees the noxious black gas, with its haunting tendrils seeping across the surface of the once idyllic island.

Scaramouche raises his glass to his lips, taking a long, deliberate swig. He struggles to push back the rising tide of memories; struggles to push back the bile rising in his throat.

You notice the somber expression that crosses his face. “I’m sorry,” you say softly.

He meets your gaze, and you observe a subtle shift in his indigo eyes, how they darken. His demeanor is guarded, but in that split second, you see a glimmer of vulnerability. “Tell me more,” he inquires. “About the song, about your life in Tatarasuna.”

You nod, and take a moment to collect your thoughts. Leaning back against the chair, you recount the days of your childhood. You tell him about your parents — true adventurers at heart, with an insatiable thirst for exploration.

“They took me on countless journeys across Teyvat,” you start. “From the rolling plains of Mondtstadt, to the stone forests in Liyue. But those places, so easy to reach, were never enough for them.”

You recount the events that led the three of you to wash ashore upon the rocky outcrops of Kannazuka Island in Inazuma — a botched smuggling operation, led by an inexperienced sailor. You were stuck between two warring states — the Inazuma Shogunate and the Watatsumi Army. Amidst the chaos, a few brave locals defied the Electro Archon’s will, and extended a helping hand.

Within the safety of their village, they shared their crafts with you — under their guidance, you were introduced to the art of pottery, their steady hands guiding yours, allowing you to shape pots that held both practicality and an aesthetic appeal; you learned to weave silk, creating vibrant brocades that told stories of your past. They taught your parents the secrets of tending a garden, how to nurture each plant; they taught them the arts of stealth, of resourcefulness — they’d guide them through the thick forests, teaching them how to identify edible berries and how to track elusive prey without drawing the attention of wandering samurais or the warring armies.

“The villagers shared their stories, their own experiences. They told me about the legendary Mikage Furnace, about its role in shaping the community. But they also passed down folk songs… tales of mythical gods and primordial creatures.”

You take a sip of your drink. “The song I played today, it’s the one that I found the most fascinating. Even as a child, something about its haunting composition and the meaning behind the lyrics called out to me. The villagers themselves had no records of the origin of the melody, but they spoke of this restless longing they would feel each time it was performed.”

Scaramouche stays silent, as you take a moment to savor the last of your drink. You set the empty glass down. “I’ve always found myself wondering about the shadowy figure and his history…”

“Sing the original,” he demands, leaning in closer. “And I will tell you the truth behind the kabukimono.” His lilac eyes lock into yours, holding such intensity that it sends shivers down your spine. You almost squirm under the weight of his scrutiny, but you quickly compose yourself when you notice the raw melancholy swimming in his eyes.

You nod, accepting. “Alright then, I’ll sing the original for you,” you reply, taking a deep breath and letting your voice escape your lips.

The melody merges with the clamor of the tavern, but hidden in your little corner, the noise becomes irrelevant. Several patrons steal a few curious glances at you, their expressions a mixture of confusion and indifference, but they quickly divert their attention elsewhere, finding more interesting distractions.

But Scaramouche listens intently, penetrating gaze fixed on your lips, tracing every movement as the foreign syllables flow.

The final note fades upon your lips, and, completely entranced in the heartbreaking story of the eccentric, you don’t notice the lone tear that escapes your eye, leaving a damp trail down your cheek in the melody’s wake.

Silence stretches between you. Surprise flits across your features at the sight of the watery eyes behind Scaramouche’s stoic mask — he, who had at first displayed such aloofness and indifference, now seems stricken by genuine grief.

“Your song… stirs long buried memories,” he begins with a soft voice, answering your quiet, wordless inquiry. “In a past life, I too knew about the ache of aimless wandering, untethered and alone.”

His words linger in the air, a whispered revelation, one that hints at the depths of his own past.

Scaramouche exhales a heavy sigh, his stoic façade returning. “But a promise is a promise,” he says.

You shift uncomfortably. “Look,” you start, voice filled with concern. “If this brings you pain, there’s no need to continue. We can leave it be.”

He shakes his head, a flicker of determination crossing his features. “The kabukimono from the song… he was a puppet sculpted by the hand of the Electro Archon, intended to house the divine Gnosis. Yet, upon his creation, he shed genuine tears, and in his imperfection, he was carelessly cast aside.”

His words hang in the air, painting a tragic picture of a being cast aside by the very same hands that brought him to life.

“His divine powers were sealed, and he was locked away in a deep slumber,” he continues, voice laced with a mix of sorrow and resignation. “Until a samurai found him and took him in, despite his origins. The puppet formed a bond with the samurai and his companions.”

Scaramouche’s gaze turns distant, as if lost in memories. A sigh escapes him. “But then, tragedy struck. The puppet thought himself betrayed for the second time, and so he left, abandoning the only bonds he’d ever truly known.”

“His life was one of great suffering,” you quietly muse. Still, a doubt nags at the edges of your mind. “But how can you be certain this is the true origin of the song? Akademiya records tell a completely different tale of the Tatarasune Incident…” you trail off.

“The Akademiya is not infallible,” Scaramouche states bluntly, crossing his arms.

“But… the Akasha… the scholars have been able to preserve knowledge for generations,” you counter weakly.

“Not every truth stored is truly truthful,” he retorts. “Perhaps the kabukimono wished for his own story to remain unknown.”

You contemplate his words. “How can you be so certain?” you ask.

A subtle smirk ghosts his lips, and in an instant, clarity washes over you.

“You’re… you’re the kabukimono,” you breathe a sigh of disbelief and awe. The implications settle in your mind like the final pieces of an intricate puzzle. It all fits — the haunting melancholy in his eyes, his intricate knowledge of the past, and his willingness to share the painful truth, no matter how dark it may be.

Scaramouche remains silent, his enigmatic smirk still plastered across his face. It speaks volumes, confirming your thoughts.

Still reeling from his revelation, you meet his inscrutable gaze, a question look in your eyes. “Why reveal this to me?” you inquire, voice filled with caution. “How can you be sure that I won’t go and share this with the Akademiya scholars?”

His grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Ah, my dear street performer, it’s because I saw a kindred spirit within you. And besides, the Akademiya scholars… their pursuit of knowledge often blinds them to the depth of human experience.”

Scaramouche rises from his seat, the scraping sound of his chair against the chair breaking your thoughts. “It’s time for me to go,” he declares. “But if you’re willing, I can divulge more about the history of the kabukimono.”

You feel a flutter of anticipation at his words. “And what do you ask in return?” you inquire cautiously.

“I wish to hear more of your voice,” he admits sincerely, a surprising vulnerability seeping into his words. “If you are willing, meet me at Pharos Lighthouse, a week from now, before the break of dawn.”

And with that hopeful promise, Scaramouche departs, melting into the inky shadows of the tavern.

You remain rooted to your seat long after he takes his leave, mind reeling from the encounter. Your heart still drums erratically, head spinning, his revelations bringing up more questions than answers.

Ordering another glass of palm wine, you sip, hoping its sweet tones may calm your fraying nerves. You turn the conversation over and over, looking for a different, perhaps a deeper, meaning behind his words.

By the time your glass is empty, a weariness has settled into your bones. You offer a quiet nod of gratitude to the tavern keeper, and exit into the night.

Cool air washes over you as you step into the lamplit street, the ethereal glow of the moon overhead. And as you walk the familiar path that leads to your home, finding solace in the rhythm of the journey, the events of the night replay in your mind.

You make your way home, eager for what the future holds and the mysteries waiting to be unraveled.

*Translation of the song:

He wanders the world full of wild colors, A spirit unrestrained, a mind uncontained. Wandering eccentric.

Author's note: I AM BACK! I AM ALIVE!

University sure kicked my ass (and is still kicking it lol). I am still working on one more request, as well as the next chapter of L ♡ V E R ⇌ L ⦻ S E R (I have not forgotten about it, I promise)

#genshin x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #scaramouche x y/n #wanderer x y/n #scaramouche x you #wanderer x you #genshin impact #genshin imagines #request #scaramouche #wanderer

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blackgirlwhowrites2k23 · 9 months

Note

Can you write going on an aquarium date w alejandro balde and you just giggle at him most of the time bc of how childish he looks when he sees all the animals and stuff😭 sorry its kinda vague but i need the balde fics out here😣

Summary: Finals are coming up and your general marine biology class has got you all types of worried. Balde to the rescue! A trip to the aquarium never hurt nobody.

A/N: I know you want to beat my ass right now for how long this took, but I was having some personal issues so I had to be away for a bit. I should be all alright now though! You probably already got someone else to write this but I still felt like I owed you this at least. That aside, there really is a lack of fanfiction for some of my best boys. So here’s one for the bestest of the best boys: Balde himself. I took a little bit of a spin on this so I hope you don’t mind, Anon. Also, shout out to women in STEM! (Also I don’t own any of these pics or video so credit to the original owners)

“I should be at home—studying,” you started to complain. It was futile to try to argue with him once he got so riled up about something, and as you stood at the start of the aquarium it was clear that it was a lost cause.

“Why do that when you could be here, with me; your awesome boyfriend,” he wiggles his eyes in an obnoxious manner that only serves for you to scoff in fake annoyance.

College life was definitely not easy and while you're confident in your choice of major and your ability to succeed, it’s hard not to get nervous. Especially when it’s just the beginning and your general studies classes are already throwing you for a loop.

You had initially planned to be cooped up in your house all day doing nothing but going over the material, reviewing, and then reviewing some more. Then, when that was done, take the longest nap of your life.

That had been the plan. That was until you received a text at 9 in the morning that effectively threw those plans out the window.

————————

Baldie 👨🏾‍🦲💖

Be prepared in an hour. Wear something nice. I’m coming to help you study😼

You

Going to watch Spiderverse again

will NOT help me study.

Baldie👨🏾‍🦲💖

What?

Babe No…

Just be prepared☝🏾😼

————————

As you walk hand in hand through the entrance of the aquarium, an immediate sense of wonder lit up Alejandro’'s eyes; as the soft, pillowy blue cascaded across his features it was hard to decide what would occupy all your attention: looking at him or figure out what exhibit to look at first.

He was like a kid in a candy store, or in this case a kid at an aquarium. His excitement was palpable, and you couldn't help but giggle at the way he bounced on his toes, his enthusiasm infectious.

The first exhibit you come across is a vibrant coral reef, a living breathing tapestry of colors and textures. Alejandro's gaze darts around, absorbing every detail.

“Woooahh! That looks like a brain,” he points dramatically at the various Australophyllia wilsoni that you both had the pleasure of stumbling across. Balde, in his infinite wisdom, presses up as close to the glass as he can to imprint every detail in his mind’s eye.

You were in just as much awe as he was, but you definitely went about it in a more formal way.

“That’s actually the Australophyllia wilsoni, or a Wilson’s brain. Like all coral, these guys are super important for the environment with keeping the Ph and oxygen balance within the water.”

He turns to you with a grin, eyes wide, and asks you to continue on about the different types of corals and their natural habitats, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. You humor him. With a chuckle, you launch into an impromptu lecture, weaving scientific names and geographical locations together like a basket, and you the expert weaver. Alejandro's fascination only grows, and he listens intently, occasionally gasping as a particularly striking fish darts by. It was clear that he was overcome with a sense of eagerness; he may not have understood every single thing you said but he would sagely nod and act like he did.

The enormous tanks all appeared to be their own living, breathing universe, packed with colorful marine life. A complex tapestry of coral and other organisms. As you move from tank to tank, his excitement never ceases.

The jellyfish exhibit captures his attention next, and you find yourselves lost in a world of languid, mesmerizing movements and ethereal effervescent lights. Alejandro's laughter rings out as he playfully imitates the up, up, up movements of the jellyfish, almost like a dance meant to capture anyone who witnesses it. You can’t keep up your professional facade anymore and you go up, up,up, moving your arms like you were floating. You immediately feel the joy bubble up within you, making you light, and yeah, maybe you were floating.

You were glad that particular exhibit was empty though, because you both probably looked real crazy.

You have to remind yourself to never talk about fish around Alejandro because once you got started–he never wanted you to stop. You could see why though. The aquarium fish were everything and more. Their colors danced in the ethereal blue light, casting mesmerizing reflections on the glass walls of their world. Behind the glass, they felt so close, yet sooo far away.

“You know I once caught that fish with my bare hands” he points to the nearest fish as it darts past you both and makes the gripping gesture with both of his hands out.

You follow the direction of his finger, see a suckermouth catfish, and playfully hit him on the arm.

“Boy, be so for real right now.” You have to immediately walk away though because, in your laughter, you had said that entirely too loud.

“I’ve lived many lives, woman.”

The rays in the touch pool become the next unfortunate victim in his boundless energy as Alejandro all but races you over to the waters. He reaches out to touch the sleek backs of rays gliding through the water, his eyebrows going impossibly higher up on his face as he fails to contain his pure delight. You can’t help but snap a picture as he squeals, or manly show his appreciation as he would put it, the perfect embodiment of elation.

As you explore, you find yourselves in the tunnel under the massive shark tank. The world above you transforms into an aquatic ballet, with sharks and rays gliding gracefully overhead. Alejandro's grip on your hand tightens as he whispers in awe, comparing the canopy to a majestic underwater sky.

“Am I not like, the best boyfriend ever?” You look away from him for a moment and see a pair of sharks, presumably a couple if their size difference and proximity are any indicators, and hum thoughtfully.

“I don’t know. Lemme pass this test first and I’ll get back to you on that,” you stare into a different pool, his eyes this time, and immediately get pulled in. It’s hard to keep up your cheeky game when he’s that damn fine.

“How bout I give you a kiss and we’ll go with yes,” you have to hold on to the railing of the enclosure to keep yourself from falling in.

“That’ll work too.”

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randomwritingsnips · 11 months

Text

"What are you talking about?" Grandmamah seemed taken aback.

"Nerissa never had a daughter!"

In the moment, Agatha froze, a chill running through her tentacles and possibilities began to aline.

She had felled the Queen, hadn't she? She had slain Nerissa, but then how would she have…

"I did it!" Ruby exclaimed in joy as she seam back to Chelseas' side, landing as she opened up her hand, showing the Trident of Oceanus, a smile spreading across her face.

Chelsea moved closer, staring at the Trident in awe and wonder.

"Mothers' Trident…" Chelsea muttered in awe, her eyes appearing to redden as she thought back what little memories she had of that Day.

Hidden away at her mothers' side, hidden within an Egg, nearly ready to burst open. She had seen it all. The Battle, the turn, her fall…

"I never thought that I'd really see it…" The Mermaid muttered as she reached out to grasp the Trident.

In a moment, something resonated within Chelseas' mind as her expression twisted, her giving out a cry as she erupted with steam all around her.

Ruby pulled back, protecting herself with her body Armor out of Instinct.

Once the steam subsided, the Kraken called out in a panic, "Chelsea! Are you okay!?"

As the steam cooled and a much larger form showed itself, a Scaley Form of a mermaid, flowing red hair turning to lines of foam.

As Chelsea opened her eyes, something felt…off…

"Krystal, Kraken…" She grimaced while staring at Ruby, as if she was a complete stranger.

-------

This is just a small piece of what I liked to think about after that reveal in the movie. I sorta like the idea of this a bit more. Maybe the Trident can have a memory of its Wielders by Species, leading to some sort of memory event. And of course there is the change of Chelsea being her own. What a depressing conclusion. Should have just made Chelsea her own character. Would be a more interesting suprise Twist for Agatha and her mother to discover this.

I watched the movie out of curiosity and to unwind, only to be so disappointed at this part that I've rewritten it as a fragment and revived this blog that laid dormant since I had heatstroke Last year and then 2023s' punches as an end result.

Here are my concepts of what can be done though. Instead Chelsea should have been her own character, indeed Nerissas' daughter, most likely still in her egg and having witnesses her own mothers' death.

Perhaps She is indeed Genuine as well, actually being friends with Ruby. Perhaps there are species based effects of the Trident of Oceanus. Maybe it brings up the memories of its past weilders, and with a trauma of having witnessed her mother having been slain, it can give just the right weakness for Chelsea to be over taken and almost possessed by the Trident, representing the past itself.

"A Kraken always answers the Call."

"A Mermaid remains true to her roots."

Perhaps she gets Ruby Early on into a bind and is about to slay her, only for tears to form as she tries to restain herself, not wanting to do it.

A Villian still, but an unintended one, making the real villain maybe the sins of the past.

Dunno if I'll update this one again, As I'd need to rewatch the movie again as I went to theaters, but here is this fragment and some of my ideas.

I wonder if people can ignore a companys' vision with enough audacity that they just retcon it in a sequel.

As a final piece, Maybe she does meet Agatha, and is holding onto Ruby in a way for comfort, as she is technically meeting then the Kraken that had killed her mother.

Maybe There is an argument in private where she demands Chelsea stay away from Ruby, as Mermaids can't be trusted, not even one.

This can also have a side effect of weakening Chelseas' resolve for an actual Peace, but memory of Ruby brings it all back, especially after Ruby picks her up and they leave.

Interesting if Also Chelsea gets called a monster by Agatha during that scene.

Suggest tags. I'm off to shower before the Infernal Meatball in the sky decides to fry me again.

#fanfiction #ruby gillman teenage kraken #ruby gillman chelsea #chelsea van der zee #chelsea van der sea #rubygillman #Ruby Gillman #AU

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sushistyless · 1 year

Text

mist.

Rain can be a hassle to Harry especially because he’s always late. But when dark and stormy nights lead to finding someone a bit special, he has to admit, he’s forever grateful for the dark clouds.

(writer harry, fluffy & rainy stuff, 6k+)

my masterlist.

————

Harry always had a bit of a problem with being on time.

Usually, it was his day dreaming tendencies that conveniently forced the clock to tick out of his head, drowning the noise of the outside world and opting for the vivid, lively & observant fashion he lived with in books. The entirety of each minute spent in those worlds, being in some way or another -- a moment he would dream about later.

Most of his life was filled within his own thoughts & feelings, a curiosity stemming in the depths of his mind. And ever since he could remember, he'd been this way.

Much of his teenage life and childhood was spent in the city, the daily ways of hustle bustle following each moment. He loved staying there and is grateful for the opportunities he got — don't get him wrong! — but... he craved to have a life where things weren't as overwhelming. He wouldn't say he's shy, but he liked being in his own company, an affinity to observe the intricacies of the world and the different realms of literature rather than soaking up the role of the main character on centre stage.

He always preferred the quiet, and leaned towards the introverted, solitary life. And his job as a writer suited him pretty well, he'd say. Working from home, he didn't really have any events he could formally be late to, which is why it wasn't the biggest concern to him. With a ton of pent up creativity, he found writing (and painting too, sometimes) to be a wonderful medium for him to pour out all that jazz.

His first 'inspiration' for a lifestyle that 'called out' to him was when he was quite young. He remembers his mum taking him to a small village near the hills, and how his seven year old self was utterly enthralled by the beauty and charm of the place.

"Mum! Look!" he had said, scampering around in the fields while running behind a yellow butterfly, committing each curve of its wings to his memory, with pure ecstasy fluttering through the soreness of his cheeks as a result of a smile grown so wide. His mum was amused to see the joy that radiated off him– an amount she'd never seen before.

Later that night, after he'd finally (and very reluctantly) agreed to leave the fields, she'd tucked him into bed, warmth coursing through his veins under the cuddly comforter. She whispered, telling him to never lose that spark in him. He merely responded in a soft, dreamy tone, giving her a lazy smile when met with a kiss on his forehead, "I-it's just, everything's so pretty here! Don't y'think? Jus' wanna stay here forever.''

"Yes, Harry," she laughed, in awe of her son with a gleaming sparkle in his eyes, "And maybe one day you can live some place like this, alright? But for now, sleep, sweetheart."

And he had eagerly nodded his head.

Now, it was only fitting that Harry had bought a cottage in the countryside near the foothills of a little town a few miles away from the city. And suffice to say, he lived a happy life, with inspiration seeping into each flower that grew out in the garden in front of his little cottage, blooming with vibrantly coloured flowers, and in the sunset that came each evening. Dusk, in-fact, was the most pretty sight he'd seen in his entire life he thinks. No complaints, he said when having literal cumulus clouds floating around with rays of sunshine peeking through them, almost making the scene seem scrapped right out of a renaissance painting — the only lost elements being the angels hiding behind them (and, yes, he had actually painted that too).

Love also manifested from his creative side often resulting in tons of hand drawn pictures of different varieties of butterflies and plants pinned to the walls inside his home.

Harry's life was his muse, so each time he sat to write, the words just spilled right out his heart onto the parchment, staining it in perfect handwriting.

(—Or, in a less 'aesthetic' way, mostly his hands typing away rather fast on the keys of his laptop, periodically pushing his glasses from sliding down his nose, but hey, same effect!—.)

He eventually did start writing books and many collections of poetry, so he did struggle with deadlines from time to time, but it wasn't that bad. It wasn't very bad because it didn't require his presence, he thinks, but it still required some time management. And he promises he's getting better at it.

But... we can still say that Harry had a bit of a problem with being on time.

He'd been standing in a little library located farther down the trail from his house (he still grins like an idiot at the thought of having his very own house), that stood on a street lined with shops and cafés. The scent of old books swilled in the air, vintage posters and dark rows of shelves matching the aesthetic of wooden floors and rustic trinkets hung up on the dusky-coloured walls. His fingers picked at the edges of the pages of the book, his third time reading magic through the eyes of The Little Prince.

He'd gotten only a little bit lost in it, his ring clad hand absently lifting the cup of matcha he had previously ordered on-the-go, bringing it to his lips and titling it forward, only to taste just a single drop of flavoured residue and realise that it was empty from the periodic sips he had taken with each flick and turn of a page.

Oh, he thought to himself and frowned. He hadn't realised that he finished it that fast. With a finger wedged between the closed book so as to not lose the page and cup squashed in the same arm, he fiddled to reach out to the vintage field bag slinging over his shoulder.

Finally, through the dishevelled strands of hair obstructing his vision, he managed to open the bag and get a hold of his phone from inside it. Switching it on, he pondered. It couldn't have been that long. Alas, when the screen lit up showing highlighted numbers of 7:28 pm, well, he was shocked (and glad there wasn't any matcha in his mouth, for he would have most definitely spit it out).

And, it hit him that he was late.

It wasn't much of a surprise that he would overstay past his intended time here in the library. But today was an important day.

He had ordered a record player a few months back and he was fluttering on the inside with a little spark. He'd counted down the days until it would arrive, smiling wide as he crossed down each day approaching it, and promised himself early this morning that he'd come and read only for a little bit, then easily go home before 7 pm so he would be there when the precious package was delivered.

Music was a big part of his life, of course. It helped him write, helped him imagine. Helped to dream a little more. And maybe he could even go as far as to say it was like fuel to him. The idea of his suited songs played on the vinyl was enough to excite him.

With widened eyes, he quickly shoved the phone back in, then flustered, taking steps towards the door. He was excited– sure, but he couldn't help and felt a little more doubtful and wary of the delicate player being properly delivered than gently held in his safe arms. It was expensive to say the least (top of the line and yada yada) and although it wasn't his yet, he already deemed it to be his precious possession.

On a normal day, warm, slanted rays of the sun would reflect on his face through the glass windows as he stepped from behind the cover of the thick shelves– but today was gloomy. A thick, dark blanket of clouds was spread across the sky, leaving no place for sunlight to pass through.

With having completed the satisfaction of saying a goodbye! to the store owner — Miss Akane, a kind and eccentric old woman who Harry had gotten quite close to after tasting a lot of her homemade sweets — he strode towards the door, skillfully pushing it open against the windy, mildly chilly air.

And that was when Harry realised that he really needed to hurry.

It was true when he thought today was going to be a rainy day. It'd be only a matter of a few seconds before the scent of wet mud would linger in the air. He walked quickly on the trail towards the mountain side, relaying one last glance to the line of shops. Harry usually caught sight of a few people walking down the street but it seems as though everyone knows that the weather is going to be stormy. He'd grown accustomed to the view by now, having moved to the countryside just a few years prior.

The fitted burgundy coloured chequered pants covering his legs, flared and shifted tightly against his calves, while his torso carried a very lovely sage-green vest, all bundled along with his bookbag tucked underneath his overcoat, effectively shielding him and his possessions from the heavy breeze and potential rain.

As he saw the soil being gradually dotted with raindrops and the plants around him weighing down with the trickling water, he knew it was even more important to reach home fast.

——-

Harry's footsteps become more sunken, the trail having become mucky and threateningly prone to little puddles as he nears his cottage. The rain races with increased velocity, the sound of it hitting the ground and rumbles of thunder providing a soundtrack to the activities and errands of his current life.

Harry reaches close to home, and he had initially thought he would rush in and worry himself, examining the much awaited wet box, because the past few deliveries he had got weren't very considerately delivered. He thought it would be sitting out, left in the harsh rain.

But really, he's confused.

He brings up his hand, the tip of his finger swiping out a drop of rain that clung to his eyelash, already squinted eyes straining even more as if to make sure what he saw through the rain was reality.

Instead of seeing a drenched parcel, he finds someone sitting on his partially covered porch, her hazy gaze fixed on the entwined hands in her lap. The light, pastel amethyst coloured shirt she's wearing grows the slightest bit transparent — not entirely soaking through, but sleeves wet enough to loosely cling onto her body — the expanse covering her torso accentuating her collarbone region. Her hair sticks to the side of her forehead, cheekbones glistening under the influence of the rain. Eyelashes frame her profile from the view he's provided with, cheeks seeming hollow like she bites down on them. A coat is draped over some large box on the right, evidently wanting to keep whatever it was dry.

She certainly doesn't seem like a delivery person, the lack of a uniform making it clear that a courier was not what she was, only adding to Harry's confusion.

Hm?

The little shade up front does little to barricade the rain as it slants towards her, the entire scene looking like her mere presence was magnetic to the forces of nature.

The ideas of why she was here and what his reply would be start noting through his head like pieces of paper being crumpled with each possibility that came up, clearly hesitant in the conversation that he already started in his head. Licking his lips, he readies himself to speak. What should he say?— the lack of socialising with new people peeking through the flurry of jumbled words projecting in his mind.

He gulps, moving closer until he's at a good distance from her, pace slowing down distinctively as his heels dig into the soft ground below. Finally, he musters up the courage to speak, inhaling and exhaling before flicking off a chocolate coloured curl that weighed onto his face, curtaining his vision. "H-hi."

The girl's figure immediately perks up, a sharp intake of breath drawn past her lips, clearly taken by surprise as her face snaps up to him. Her irises have a wild essence in them, widening as they meet his own & flickering around, taking in his features before spewing words of her own, "Oh! Hi."

She clears her throat, posture now becoming straighter, her right hand comes up to toy with a crystal pendant adorning her neck. "Uh," she flustered innocently, confused while forming her question, "Do you live here?" Her body turns completely towards her right, eyes effectively focused on the door of the cottage, giving Harry an obvious reference. Her voice is low & fragile, with woven delicacy as if she's afraid that if she gets louder, it might break glass. Harry's sure that if it was any softer, it would've been completely muted out by the echoing roars of the colliding clouds.

Harry's eyes follow her line of sight, nodding his head at her questioning, "I... I do, yes. Can I help y'with something?" He adds on in the end with sincerity & curiosity edging his tone, still comprehending her sweet voice and sudden presence. He hardly got guests, and if he did, they were mostly his family flying out on occasions to see him. But they too dropped in once in a blue moon. He was, let's just say, deep within an area of solitude. So he was more than shocked when he found someone he'd never known quite literally sitting at his doorstep.

There's a moment of silence in their conversation, giving Harry's gaze enough time to wander off & examine the object placed beside her. The jacket had ridden up at the side, a tiny sliver of the picture plastered over the box making his eyebrows knit the slightest bit.

The girl, whose eyes are mostly just fixated on Harry, immediately notices and clicks out of the dazed dream as she fumbles through the blurry rain, "Oh, right!"

Harry observes as she peeps out, standing to her height, hands already beginning to unveil the surprise under the full of her jacket, which's outer surface is glistening with the water, while the inner remains dry.

"I think... this is yours?" Her voice tilts in pitch nearing the end of her sentence, questioning him with unknown facts once Harry's eyes land on a package with a familiar picture stamped on.

He remembers the same photograph that was displayed on the online site he ordered his turntable from, a light beige colour coating the artistic marvel. With the stickered details of his address pinned up top, the edges of the box had become a little moist and worn out, but overall in good condition.

His features contort to realisation, "Oh— oh, yeah! Thank you s'much." He says with a heart full of gratitude & sudden confusion, stepping closer to finally land on the wooden shaft of the porch and scurry beside her.

She sheepishly nods at the acknowledgement, busying herself to pick it up, the box seeming entirely too large for her arms to hold. Harry quickly swoops in while giving her a soft, grateful look, enough to not evade her personal bubble, but assist her as he quickly supports it from the other side. Her lips tug slightly at the edges, the moment giving her time to take in the ringlets of hair that stick to his forehead and making her smile subconsciously grow the tiniest bit wider as he retrieves it completely.

"I was actually just passing by here when the delivery guy happened to catch me, and assumed that I lived here. I tried to tell him— really — but he was in a rush and he... just kept it and left," she rambles, managing to sneak a quiet smile in there, the cold shaft of wind making her shudder for a moment.

There's a moment of hesitancy, the slightest second of silence wallowing in the air as she collects her words and gathers to deliver him information that might ease his apparent confusion.

"I didn't want to leave it like that 'cause it seemed pretty important. I knocked again but nobody answered, so I only stayed to make sure it was alright until someone came by." Her voice decreases in amplitude as her sentence progresses, speaking shyly as her irises stutter on Harry's frame for a second too long. Explaining the entire situation to the best of her abilities while still tripping over her sentences, Harry offers no response because, well...

What the fuck?

Harry is... at a loss for words, to put it simply.

She did all that? For a simple parcel? For him?

Initially, he'd thought she was waiting there for some help she might need. Then again, everything that had happened was all a jumbled mess in his head — the thoughts in his mind unclear to himself. He didn't know what he was expecting when he arrived and saw her in the first place.

But, she was just so sweet. The entire thought was so incredibly kind, and— it just swelled his heart with so much joy and gratitude. A lot of people have helped him throughout his life, but nobody has ever been this sweet or innocently considerate. He's just on cloud nine with the idea of being worthy of all that, with no part of his brain telling him how to react.

He thinks that among the pouring rain and rumbling chaos, he had the honour of encountering a literal angel.

When he doesn't respond immediately, worry quickly fills her eyes, "I-I'm sorry if it's not what I should've done, I just thought..."

"No, no! Not at all! I jus—" He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, dissipating her worries as she visibly releases a breath. Adoration swimming through his irises, a butterfly induced feeling fills his tummy when he catches her wistful gaze drifting into the window of his soul.

The rain danced like spray, buzzing off the wooden roof & echoing through his ears, the sound of some drops sharper than the other- growing clearer and heavier by the second like the rhythm of his heart. The wind murmured to the trees, a whirring accompanying the puddles that began to plink with the hammering intensity of the rain, almost pleading him to say something— anything.

"That's just s'sweet of you. Thank you so much. You didn't have to do that, but y'did. And 'm so, so sorry I made y'wait out here..."

He is filled with gratitude but he also feels terribly guilty. It was because of him that she had to wait out for so long. It was chilly out and to be sitting out for that long under the icy weather, a sniffle would surely rift into a full blown cold. It's now that he notices the goosebumps trailed along her skin as she crosses both her arms in front of her chest in an effort to keep warm.

"No, don't worry! It's– it's okay. Really." She spares maybe a second of full eye contact with him, giving him a soft smile on catching the praises before casting off her gaze, focusing on the mucky shoes covering her feet as the droplets trickling off it caught the light. "The rain's quite pretty anyway."

Harry offers her an easy (but still regretful) smile at that. It was nice of her to try and console him even through small sentences.

"And... you like vinyls?" she converses curiously once her hands are free again, standing still with her fingers intertwined in her front once again. Harry can't help but wonder if it's a nervous tick she has, and he also can't help but smile a little at the thought, cherishing how he does the same sometimes.

"Yeah, jus' have some kind of charm, y'know?" The words just slip through his mouth like he's talking to himself, stifling his beam as his face drops to face the ground for a second, the faintest dimples indenting the apple of his cheeks and a simmer of warmth reaching them as he gives it his best to not crack into a fit of smiles. "Do y'like 'em?" He looks back at her.

The attempt at making his excitement subdued instils a kind of joy across her face, a honey swept tone coating her words as she replies, "Oh, yeah! Been wanting to get one for myself actually, but they're pretty expensive. Promise I wasn't stealing yours though." She chuckles a little easier now, knuckling at her eyes as a drop of water seems to latch onto her eyelid.

"I believe you. And trus' me, I've been saving up for it for months now, so y'not alone." He reciprocates her laugh, keeping it casual, but his mind internally goes through a shot of excitement.

"It's no–" she starts, a loud streak of thunder rumbling much too loud, cutting off the conversation as her widened eyes flit off to wander in the distance. Harry mimics her actions, the noise enough to demand anyone's attention. Her lips part at the loud sound, teeth digging into the plushy lower one, while the thinnest crease of worry lines her forehead. "But, um, I think I should probably head back now. The rain is only getting worse..."

It's now Harry's turn to worry, concerned because the last thing he could ever want for anyone is to walk back during a growling, full-blown thunderstorm. "Are y'sure? You're most welcome to come in..." he trails off, feet trudging against the cold floorboard as he shuffles towards the door, "It looks pretty bad out there. Y'can wait here until it calms down— only if you're comfortable, of course." He adds the last part quickly, speaks with sincerity- a genuine request on his part. And honestly, it's the least he can do. He knows that it was after all, her choice to wait here, but he still feels shitty knowing that he could have reached earlier and avoided her from all this trouble.

Her gaze is still downcast, an expression emulating the ghost of a smile, seeming like she's mulling over the options in her head, while her hands work to wriggle the coat back on her shoulders. "Oh no, it's fine! I love looking at the interior of houses —" she looks back at him with a breathy smile and a bit of hope arises in Harry, wishing she'd say yes so he would have some company- even if it was only for some time. She continues, "— But I really don't mean to intrude. Thank you though," she continues with a soft gaze, an apologetic undertone lacing her words.

His heart deflates when she declines his offer, the slight tug of his lips dulling only the slightest bit, yet understanding that it was her choice based on what she felt would be safe for her, but he hates to think that she'd feel like a burden if she were to stay.

"Please, you won't be intruding in the slightest. Honestly, s'the least I can do. Please feel free to come in, it's no trouble at all. Again, I'm so, so sorry." All he really hoped was that he could spend even a little time with her because he knew there was a possibility that he would likely never meet her again. But, if she felt it was safer to go her own way, he would respect that, of course, and just continue to think back to the small conversation they once had.

She laughs a little louder now, surprisingly to Harry as if enthralled by the amount of gratefulness and (un)necessary apologies he smothers her with, "Hey," she whispers, "I waited here voluntarily, so you really don't need to apologise."

His internal sorrow evades a bit when she makes an effort to lighten his mood, the tiniest blush threatening to creep up his cheeks.

"I know, 'm sorry—"

"Oops, there you go again."

"—Shit. I promise, I didn't mean to. I'm so so—"

"Sorry?" She completes for him, grinning like Harry's done the cutest thing and in fact– giggles. Proper giggles.

Can you believe that?

And if Harry couldn't take his mind off her presence, he surely can't now, wondering what he's done to have the honour of hearing the sound bless his ears. It's pouring, raining like cats and dogs, but this conversation takes him to a place of happiness where he imagines the sun would shine with the warmest, most yellow & buttery orange tinged glow. He just met her for stars' sake— he doesn't even know her name! But... he knows that he likes being the reason she laughs. He likes making people laugh in general, some kind of satisfaction hiding deep in his own smile when they break into laughter, but he reckons she was just much sweeter to witness.

Agh. He's such a sap, he knows... but he still means every word. Besides, it's in the safety of his mind, it's okay.

"Yeah... that." He bites his lip, hoping she wouldn't catch him avoiding her gaze. "Y'sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be okay," she hums low, words drowning in the sound of the thunder as it penetrates through the grey clouds once again. Buttoning up the most part of her coat and descending down the porch, she shoots him a smile, a small 'bye!' accompanying her actions of waving at him.

"Bye! Please be careful!" he adds on. It felt strange. He didn't want to say goodbye. The conversation hadn't for a minute felt forced and it's... something he hasn't experienced in a long time. He wished it would last longer.

"I will, thank you! It was really nice meeting you!" He watches as her figure teeters down the clearing that led to his house, looking back at him from over her shoulders.

"You too," Harry mutters, a smile taunting his lips at the sight of her doing the same all while prancing about in the rain. But as she leaves his line of sight, he wonders. Would they ever even meet again? A sigh escapes through his mouth, the slopes of his shoulders softening with a pout that stretches across his face. And oh, he even forgot to ask her her name. It was too late to do that now. It'd just be plain weird if he ran out in the rain and startled her for a silly question.

So he's a bit bummed. Still, he's glad that he even had the chance to encounter her.

Turning around with bitten lips after successfully manoeuvring the package so he could hold it comfortably in one arm, he shuffled to reach for his key, pulling it out and swiftly unlocking the door. As soon as he steps in, his senses are waded through by the pillowy warmth of his house, lofting with the homely smell of cinnamon and vanilla. It's nice to be able to come to such a lovely home everyday, and he's so grateful for that. Water drops drip down his clothes, pit-pattering against the wooden floors. A thud noise resonates through the room as he shuts the door, the cold ruffles of wind effectively shut out while keeping the toasty atmosphere inside undisturbed. A little fireplace decorates the corner of the generously sized living room, green plants sitting across the window panes that are curated with occasional flowers here and there. The sheer curtains don't do much to cover the view of the rustic French windows, earthly tears trickling down the glass as he gazes through the fluid stillness upon the field outside– the one that's usually bright and green but now runs dark & deep with water, the attire of raindrops looking like serrations of lines cutting through the wind.

He's quick to discard his drenched coat, opting to hang it on the hook beside the dark ocher coloured console that stands in the foyer-like entryway, carefully placing the box on the cabinet. Littered throughout the pastel coloured walls were various delicately framed paintings– most of which he had made, and some being his versions of the works of Van Gogh (big fan he was)-- all very special, having given him some kind of inspiration to write in the past.

Running a heavy hand through his hair, he shook his head, the rebellious drops of water splattering into the air. Stumbling to the middle of the room, he all but threw himself on the feathery hold of his couch. Melting into the softness instantly, his posture relaxes, as the brown of his bag- a stark contrast to the beige of the couch lands with a splat beside him. Eyes closing ceremoniously once his head rests on the top of the couch, the pad of his fingers rub the inner corners of his eyelids. Realising he has contacts on, he frowns and stops, also thanking his past self for wearing contacts– the rain would've just fogged up his glasses and he preferred to know where he was walking. Plus, he would've not seen her very properly and that indeed would've been a pity.

Deciding that the itchiness was probably a sign for him to remove his contacts, he lifts himself off the couch and makes his way towards the bathroom.

It's just as Harry's removed his first lens that he jolts at the sound of the doorbell. With half blurry vision, all the more confusion sparkling through his veins and messier-than-ever-hair, his lips part. A second later he scurries to the front door. Opening it up the slightest, he swears his heart drops to his stomach. He can't see all that well but when the familiar voice calls out to him again, he can't help but smile at the knowledge of who it is.

"Is that offer of yours still up?"

Harry's never been happier for having a problem with time, and greeting a kind girl at his front door through blurry vision and unruly hair.

————

"Have you really made all of these paintings? They're... beautiful." It makes Harry's heart hurt at the enthusiasm Y/N shows for something he does. That's another he's learned, the sweet girl's name is Y/N. It suits her really well, he realises.

"Yeah, s'all me," he shyly smiles, setting the mug of chamomile tea down on the centre table in front of her. She's sat on his couch, a blanket wrapped around her form to keep extra toasty although she'd declined the offer in favour of the room already being warm enough. But Harry had insisted and pulled out his favourite, fluffiest blanket.

"More than beautiful actually, they're just— you're really talented." She gushes, shifting her gaze from the acrylic pieces hung on the wall to the tea now placed in front of her, accompanied with a soft whisper of an oh, thank you.

"'M glad you think so." His stifled smile stretches wider on his cheeks, little indents beginning to form a dip in them, "I think, art is just so fun to do. Being able to express yourself in paintings, music, film, and of course, writing. Words are so incredible." His voice considerably lowers as he progresses, realising how he's started to rant a bit.

"Oh," Y/N gazed at him fondly, amusement tinting her eyes, "So, I've somehow managed to stumble in the home of a young, mysterious artist - in the middle of the fields - while there's a beautiful storm raging outside, then?"

"You make me sound way cooler than I am," he laughs silently, fiddling with his rings, "that is a cute idea for a novel though."

"It is cool. Maybe I'll become a writer one day just to write about this."

"I'll join you. Co-writers we'll be," he gleamed at her, the hidden knowledge that he could very well begin plotting a novel at this very moment shucked to the back of his head.

"That would be perfect."

—————

The storm brewed the entire night but eased off by early morning, the night spent with soft words exchanged, and conversations that flowed like the streams of rivers outside. Harry swears he felt genuinely the happiest he had felt in a while.

He also would admit that he quite enjoyed when just before Y/N left, he revealed he was a writer himself. She blushed, jaw dropped because she had been prattling on and expanding on the 'Mysterious Artist in The Mountains' arc, in a pretty... amateur way she had said.

"Well," she giggled, trying to hold a serious face, "Mr. Styles, I shall take your leave. Now that I am presented with the information that you are a wonderful writer by profession, I expect thy to write some poetry about me the next time we meet."

"You should certainly expect it," he played along, bowing to her slightly.

"God, no, I'm joking," she laughed back, "but it really was nice to meet you, Harry. Thank you for everything." Gathering her belongings in one arm, she moved to stand at the threshold of the front door, Harry's presence following behind her.

She was just so sweet, Harry thought. Her smile bought with it something so honey like, a warm ray of light engulfing the room— and the sparkle in her eyes, kindness. She was beautiful too. The kind of beauty that wasn’t so conventional, more so the beauty that came with love that you simply had to have grown in with each second spent together.

"T'was a pleasure meeting you too, m'lady." He continued, a sweet smile still coating his face as he guided her out. (And although she was joking about the poetry, Harry had begun thinking of the same idea before she even proposed it.) Y/N simply reciprocated his expression, silence between them while the birds chirped in the back now that the rain had cleared out.

"Hope to meet you again… soon." She added quickly in the end and looked up to him with a glee in her eyes, speaking softly, “Bye, Harry."

A sense of déjà vu took over as he remembered the scene similar to the one he experienced a few hours back.

"Take care, love," he said, beaming when he saw her walk down the porch and look over her shoulder, excited for when they’d plan to spend more time together.

Except this time, he would happily declare that he knew her name too.

————

SOO, here is writer harry!! honestly, I started out with this piece like months ago and only finished it recently lmsiehdsjhs and I wasn’t sure if I should post it, but here we gooo :(( very soft vibes, I think. writer h is just like that.

thank you ever so much for reading :(( I really really hope you enjoyed!! <333

read more of my work on my masterlist! see you on the other side ;)

#maybe I’ll follow up with a part 2???#also the ending seems so half assed I’m sorry sheushjs #anyway just thank you SOOO much for reading :(#my writing #Harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #Harry styles x reader #Harry styles x yn #Harry styles fluff #writer harry styles #artist Harry styles #Harry styles blurb #soft harry #harry fluff #sushistyless #mist #strangers to lovers

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drtyelvisfantasy · 9 months

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Puppy Love🐶🩷

Parings: Austin Butler x reader

Summary: Austin surprises you with small little puppy for birthday and also decorates your house with balloons of your favourite colour and surprises you with flowers🩷💐

Song for the fic: Puppy Love- Paul Anka

🩷🐶🩷🐶

The sun was already beginning its ascent into the sky as the reader stirred awake, feeling the warmth of the morning light filtering through the curtains. It was your birthday, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in you chest. As you stretched, you noticed a little note on the bedside table, written in Austin's familiar handwriting.

"Good morning, beautiful! Get dressed and meet me downstairs. I have a surprise waiting for you. Love, Austin🩷."

A beaming smile spread across your face as you quickly got ready, curiosity dancing in your head. With your heart pounding, you ran downstairs, your steps light and filled with excitement.

As you stepped into the living room, you froze, your eyes widening in awe. Pink balloons floated in the air saying happy birthday, streamers adorned the walls, and twinkling fairy lights cast a soft, ethereal glow. The room was transformed into a dreamlike wonderland, and at the center of it all stood Austin, a grin playing on his lips.

"Austin, what's all this?" You asked, your voice filled with wonder.

Austin's eyes sparkled with mischief as he gestured toward a small box on the coffee table. "Happy birthday, my love. Open it."

Your hands trembled ever so slightly as she approached the box. She carefully lifted the lid, and her heart skipped a beat. Nestled inside, a tiny puppy with soft, fluffy fur and curious eyes stared up at her. It was love at first sight.

"Austin, you... you got me a puppy?" the reader whispered, tears of joy glistening in her eyes.

Austin nodded, his voice filled with love. "I know how much you've always wanted one, and I thought it was the perfect time to bring this little bundle of joy into our lives. Happy birthday, my love."

Overwhelmed with emotions, you scooped up the puppy into your arms, feeling its warmth against your chest. You showered the pup with gentle kisses, your heart swelling with love and gratitude for Austin's thoughtful surprise.

As you played with the puppy, Austin reached behind his back, revealing a bouquet of pink roses. Their delicate petals bloomed in an array of shades, releasing a sweet, captivating fragrance. He extended them towards you, his eyes filled with adoration.

"Because pink roses represent love and affection," Austin explained, his voice soft. "And I wanted to remind you of the love I feel for you every single day."

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you accepted the bouquet, feeling overwhelmed by the depth of Austin's love. You buried your face in the roses, inhaling their intoxicating scent, and turned to Austin, your voice filled with gratitude.

"Thank you, Austin. This is the most incredible birthday surprise I could have ever imagined. I'm so grateful for you."

Austin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. "You deserve every bit of love and happiness, my dear. I couldn't imagine my life without you, and I promise to cherish and love you, always."

They sat on the couch, the puppy nestled between the two of you, as you both spent the day reveling in each other's presence. Laughter filled the room, mingling with the sweet scent of roses, as you both created memories that would forever be etched inside your hearts forever.

As the day drew close to an end, you leaned your head against Austin's shoulder, with your fingers entwined with his. The puppy curled up your lap, finding comfort in your love. In that moment, the two of you realized the beauty of your connection, the immense joy you both found in each other's presence.

🩷🐶🩷🐶

#austin butler x reader #austin butler fluff #austin!elvis x reader #austin butler #austin!elvis imagine #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fluff

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wolf-light3 · 8 months

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The Perfect Date (Male reader x Kang Seulgi)

The morning sun cast a warm, golden glow over the picturesque coastal town as Y/N stood at the entrance of the seaside cafe. He nervously adjusted his tie, his heart racing in anticipation. Today was a special day, a day he had been planning for months. Seulgi, the love of his life and an adventurous soul, had no idea what awaited her.

As Y/N waited, he couldn't help but think back to how they had met. It had been a chance encounter at a bookstore, where their shared love for literature had sparked a conversation that felt like destiny. Now, eight months later, their connection had grown into something profound.

Just then, he saw her approaching, her radiant smile captivating him as always. Seulgi looked stunning in a summer dress, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Hey there," she greeted with a warm hug. "You look handsome today."

"You look breathtaking," Y/N replied, his voice filled with genuine admiration.

As they sat down for breakfast, their conversation flowed effortlessly, ranging from their favorite books to dreams of travel and adventure. Unbeknownst to Seulgi, Y/N had meticulously planned an unforgettable day that would combine all her passions.

After breakfast, Y/N guided Seulgi to a secluded beach known for its crystal-clear waters and mesmerizing underwater caves. They geared up in wetsuits, ready for an adventure neither would forget. Hand in hand, they entered the cave, their flashlights illuminating the mysterious underwater world.

Seulgi's eyes widened in wonder as they explored the cave, discovering colorful corals, playful fish, and the hidden treasures of the sea. Y/N couldn't help but smile as he watched her, her curiosity and delight infectious.

Hours passed as they swam through the cave's twists and turns, each moment deepening their connection. Finally, they emerged, their hearts pounding not only from the excitement but also from the shared experience that had brought them closer.

As they basked in the sun on the beach, Y/N spread out a picnic he had prepared earlier. Seulgi's eyes sparkled with delight at the sight of her favorite sandwiches and fresh fruit.

"This is amazing, Y/N," she said, taking a bite of the sandwich. "You always know how to make every moment special."

"Well, the day's not over yet," Y/N replied with a mischievous grin.

Seulgi raised an eyebrow, curious about what he had in store. Little did she know, their adventure was far from finished.

Next, Y/N led her to a magnificent yacht anchored just offshore. Seulgi gasped in amazement as they stepped aboard. The deck was adorned with fairy lights, and a table was set for two, complete with fine china and a bottle of her favorite wine.

"Surprise!" Y/N announced, pulling out a chair for her. "Lunch with a view."

Seulgi's eyes shimmered with tears of joy as they enjoyed their meal, the ocean breeze carrying their laughter into the air. They talked about their dreams and the adventures they hoped to share in the future, savoring every moment.

As the day turned to dusk, Y/N steered the yacht toward a secluded spot in the middle of the ocean. Seulgi watched the horizon with a sense of wonder, unaware that this was the beginning of the grand finale he had planned.

They anchored the yacht, and Y/N took Seulgi's hand. "Come with me," he said, leading her to a small rowboat that had been hidden behind the yacht's cabin.

They rowed to a tiny, uninhabited island, a paradise surrounded by crystal-clear waters. As they set foot on the white sand, the sky was painted with hues of pink and orange, signaling the approaching sunset.

Y/N had prepared a picnic dinner, complete with candles and Seulgi's favorite dishes. They sat on a blanket, the gentle lapping of the waves providing the soundtrack to their evening.

Seulgi looked around in awe, her heart filled with love. "Y/N, this is incredible. I've never experienced anything like this."

He gazed into her eyes, his heart pounding with nervous anticipation. "Seulgi, these 3 years with you have been the most magical of my life. You've brought joy, adventure, and love into every moment we've shared."

He reached into his pocket, revealing a small velvet box. Seulgi gasped, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Seulgi," Y/N continued, his voice trembling with emotion, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, going on countless adventures, and making beautiful memories together. Will you marry me?"

Seulgi's heart soared as she nodded, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks. Y/N slipped the elegant ring onto her finger, sealing their love with a promise of forever.

As they embraced under the starry sky, the universe seemed to celebrate their love, the waves serenading their joy. It was a night they would remember for the rest of their lives, the beginning of a new chapter in their love story.

And so, on that secluded island, beneath the canvas of stars, Seulgi and Y/N embarked on their journey towards a future filled with love, adventure, and endless possibilities.

#seulgi #red velvet #male reader #Seulgi x male reader

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mogai-sunflowers · 1 year

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tw // blood mention, death mention, long ask, yan mention, unreality, trauma mention

Okay, THIS is what my gender feels like from the following:

a blossoming single white rose that is splattered with blood as it is on the floor with a bloodied ax inside of a Victorian room, the thousands of galaxies in the night sky and also exoplanets, the dying nebula of a glowing star that is about to die, a black hole with the feeling of excitement but terror, a heavenly place that has a dark and terrifying dystopian-like secret, the dread of existence of wanting to live and wanting the euphoria of death, a trans-like feeling of wearing the Grim Reaper's cloak and scythe, the love-obsession of male fictional antagonists/villains because of neurodivergence, the lovesickness of unrequited I have constantly when I hyperfixate on a underrated character from a TV show, six-dimensional Eldritch-like beings, the feeling of poison or a vile-like liquid pumping through veins instead of body, having a feeling of wonder and curiosity as you pick up a withered red rose and twirl it slightly as you think to yourself "what is love?", the hyperactivity of a mad scientist when they discover the final solution to their problem, gothic-era Victorian mansions that having a sense or aesthetic of being creepy or have a haunting but not sure, an yandere-like obsession with being in love with fictional male characters, the feeling of terror, shock, and fear you get when you stumble upon several unidentified corpses in the woods that are badly decomposed with leaves scattered around them, the chills that run down your spine when you hear the wind sound like the howls of a ghost outside, walking near the river on a cold day before you stop and pick up a shimmering stone that is either colorful or dark, the happiness and nostalgia as you run around a loud and active arcade, the aesthetic feeling when you walk around an abandoned large cinema that feels liminal and lost, modern homes from the 70s/80s/90s, ghosts, vampires, aliens, eldritch beings, cryptids, frankenstein monsters, werewolves, and scary-like mythical creatures, the paranoia feeling that someone is in your house as you watch scary Internet videos, the comforting idea of being friends with monsters, and also desirement of liking Hell better than Heaven, discovering liminal-like houses that were either found in forests or mountains, a burden of trauma that affects you and your gender, dogs, canines, wolves, barn owls, crows, ravens, the euphoric feeling of wonder as you walk and/or run down the sidewalks of European villages and small towns, the comfort and distress of the dark sky when it's night, being a goth/grunge/emo/punk cool stoner queer boyfriend/girlfriend, handmade soaps with vintage labels, neon lights that either flash or become gradients of pretty colors, reading and writing fanfiction, hyperfixating on favorite cartoons, loving colors that are a darker hue or shade, wearing dark-colored hoodies and clothing, being in awe as you look into the night sky and see a shooting star and planets that are up-close, a skeleton smoking a cigarette as it reads a love letter from its queer partner, vampires that are queer, skeletons that are queer, ghosts that are queer, werewolves that are queer, frankenstein monsters that are queer, frankenstein monsters that are queer, cryptids that are queer, aliens that are queer, sweet desserts from other countries, collecting vintage stuff or things I enjoy, being so autistic that it fucks (in a good way), mushrooms, reading batman comics and watching batman-related movies and cartoons, enjoying WLW/MLM ships, having the enjoyment of being with your partner in a warm kitchen cooking while during winter times, the euphoric feeling of jumping on autumn leaves with the crunchy sounds they make and the colors they produce, rustic cabins in the woods during autumn and winter, candy during Halloween and Christmas, being butch with feminine-like long hair, and the joy of having a small puppy in your lap.

tl;dr: this is what my gender is bc I'm too fucking autistic to say it in short-ass sentences.

i think this is the best story i've ever read im literally in love with your gender /srs

#🌌written in the stars ; asks 🌌

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mpenvs3000w23 · 1 year

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Me as a nature interpreter

In this week’s Ares reading, Why Environmental Educators Shouldn’t Give up Hope by Jacob Rodenburg, the line “If I had a job description, it would be simply this: to help reveal wonder and cultivate awe.” really stuck out to me, and I immediately got out a pen and paper and wrote this down. Jacob Rodenburg is the executive director of Camp Kawartha and The Camp Kawartha Outdoor Education Centre, located in Ontario, Canada. As I mentioned in several of my previous blog posts, my experiences as both a camper and a counselor at my summer camp (also located in Ontario, Canada) have been very formative in my development as a leader, sense of self, scientist, and global citizen since this space has encouraged me to cultivate my curiosity, embrace my leadership, and live my values. I think the core purpose of any youth educator, especially in an outdoor nature educational setting (such as summer camp), is to do exactly what Rodenburg said: to explore the wonder in the world and just keep exploring and pursuing what brings us joy and fulfillment. After reading this article, I decided to share the wisdom of this statement with my greater summer camp staff community in our WhatsApp groupchat.

The WhatsApp message I sent my summer camp staff regarding Rodenburg's article.

There is an annual Jewish summer camp in person weekend-long conference for summer camp staff members across North America called Cornerstone by the Foundation for Jewish Camps (FJC). Cornerstone is such a valuable education space since it acts as a melting pot for the ideology of Jewish summer camps across the continent, and so much institutional and anecdotal knowledge is exchanged among the participants. Each participant signs up for a series of workshops to participate in during their weekend at the conference to learn skills and activities transferable to their jobs at their respective summer camp. Last year, I signed up for an activity about science and wonder. My key takeaway from this program was extremely inline to Rodenburgs words: it doesn’t exactly matter what you are teaching or how invested the participants are — your job as an educator is to give children the tools they need to explore the world for themselves, appreciate the wonder in any way they can, and celebrate them for their discoveries instead of shame them for their neurodivergence. This program inspired an activity I ran for my summer camp community this summer that I have linked here. This activity embraced the idea of using nature interpretation and exploration as a form of self care and avenue for discovery. Magnifying glasses were given to all the campers for if they got bored at any point during the activity so they could always keep investigating the world, even to the small details in the blades of grass beneath them. This activity was composed of (i) a nature-themed check-in reflexive activity, (ii) a game where they were encouraged to act out nature and empathize with its components, and (iii) a game to observe their surroundings through trust and touch, without their sense of sight. (iv) This activity concluded with one-on-one discussions reflecting on their experience observing nature, applications for self-care practices, and what it was like to search for and embrace the wonder in the world, from small blades of grass, to forests, to whole ecosystem dynamics.

Me explaining my takeaways regarding nature interpretation from Cornerstone to my greater summer camp staff community.

My personal ethic as a nature interpreter resides in the belief that there is no one way to engage with the world and ourselves. This is a very individual process that is constantly evolving and changing. I think providing each other with support, co-creating safer spaces, and building personal connections allows us to feel empowered to explore the relationship between ourselves and nature. I believe that with love and care we can foster an environment that enables youth to grow, discover, and care. Afterall, I believe effective learning is unable to happen when we don’t feel safe and cared for. Therefore, as a nature interpreter, it is my responsibility to actively evaluate my privilege, make nature-based education accessible to as many people as possible, and emphasize positive relationships among individuals that push us to grow and challenge ourselves. We have our comfort zone, where we are not challenged. We have our danger zone where boundaries are violated and not respected. And somewhere between these zones, we have our learning zone, where we are pushed to try new things, reflect with ourselves, and question the status quo in a safe and consensual environment. It is my role to find the learning zone of those around me and provide them with the support and guidance to navigate this zone. For example, this can include learning about tick safety and the increasing population and range size of ticks due to global warming caused by climate change, while giving them the proper tools and advice to enjoy nature while being tick-safe. This can also include sitting together by the water with a guitar and writing a song together about the nature around us. Music can feel like a very vulnerable task, so in this case my role would be to help guide the musical framework and celebrate contributions made by the group.

The approaches most suitable to me as an interpreter stem from foundations of mutual trust and respect. I am a strong believer that we need a space that values trust, respect, and kindness in order to share our thoughts and ideas in a meaningful way and can be further built and inquired upon by the group. I feel most connected to nature when I am in a forest or ravine and I investigate the tree species around me and the sounds of birds chirping nearby. I have lots of questions about the life history of the organisms I see around me and make hypotheses about why some species may predominate in an area versus others. I share these thoughts with those around me, not to provide them with answers, but to awaken a space where curiosity is valued and celebrated and to care enough about nature enough to want to further inquire about it. I am also passionate about using nature interpretation as an avenue for self care. I encourage others, either by themselves or with me, to play guitar by the water and ground themselves in one thing they hear, one thing they smell, a thing they can touch, a thing they can taste, and something they can see. Nature interpretation is of immense value to me and I have been so grateful to see my relationship with nature and as a nature interpreter grow over the past several years. I am filled with warmth and gratitude in knowing that I have the opportunity to be outside at summer camp with the purpose of helping children learn and grow in their relationship with nature and themselves.

Soaking in the nature beauty and wonder of the summer the with the summer camp staff the evening before the kids would arrive for another intense and rewarding summer.

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