#Orion thinks he’s whispering - but he’s shouting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starchaseriseverything · 3 months

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James looks at Regulus' beautiful sunlit face. The sun is rising, and birds are chirping. It's the best day ever.

James resists the urge to kiss down Regulus' body until he wakes up. Instead, he gets dressed and shuts Regulus' door behind him.

James hears a door open at the other end of the hall. He turns toward the sound slowly and sees one of his best friends. He lets out a breath. It's not Sirius. Thank god.

James thinks for a minute.

That's Sirius' room.

Remus just came out of Sirius' room.

James laughs quietly. "I knew it." He whispers. "I fucking knew it."

"Shut up, James." Remus says, stalking over to him.

James smiles. "I knew it."

"What are you doing here?"

"Everyone already knows. It's obvious."

"Sirius doesn't."

Another door opens. Alice? James smiles in victory. "Knew it."

James and Marlene talk every week and when they start to get suspicious of someone, they take guesses to who their shagging.

Apparently, so far, James has got them right. Alice and Narcissa, Remus and Sirius, Mary and Lily, and even Dorcas and Marlene. He couldn't believe he got that one.

"You knew what?" Alice asks.

"I knew that you were shagging Cissa."

Alice rolls her eyes and walks over to them. "You're both standing in front of Regulus' door. I'm assuming James is the one shagging him and Remus is shagging Sirius." James eyes go wide. "It's obvious."

"Fair enough." Another door opens, and out comes Emmeline Vance, a Ravenclaw. "Emmeline Vance. Nice to see you." Emmeline turns around so fast that James thought she had to have had whiplash. "Pandora? Really?"

Emmeline Smirks. "No, don't even start that sentence." Remus says, holding his hand up to stop her.

They hear footsteps around the corner, and before they could hide, Ted comes into view. "My god." Emmeline says. "Andromeda. Definitely."

"Yeah, definitely." James replies, agreeing with her.

"My god. I thought you were Orion and Walburga." Ted says startled.

"Good for you, we're not." Alice says. She pauses. "Good for us too."

"What are you all doing here?" A voice asks. Rita.

"No way!" Emmeline shouts.

"Shut up." James says.

"Sorry."

"Bellatrix. You're shagging Bella." James smiles. "Marls owes me so much gallons."

"Can we not?" Another voice sounds. Barty.

"I'm even more rich." James says proudly.

"How good are you at guessing?" Alice asks.

"Pretty good, actually. I even guessed Marls and Cas."

"Damn." Barty says, surprised.

Multiple doors open, and Evan, Pandora, Narcissa, Bellatrix, and Andromeda come out in the hallway. "What is going on?" Bellatrix asks.

Pandora smiles. "Panda? What are you smiling about?" Her brother, Evan, asks.

"Nothing."

James purses his lips. "Yeah, I'm gonna go before Siri comes out. Right Al?"

"Yep, coming."

Narcissa grabs Alice' arm. "Not so fast. We're going back in. Yeah?"

While Alice is debating, James hears another door open but doesn't see which one. "Mon soleil?" Regulus asks. "Holy shit."

James turns around and sees his boyfriend. "Hey, mi estrella."

"What is going on?"

Barty smiles. "Sirius is about to come out any minute."

Sure enough, Sirius comes out of his room. "Mon crossiant de lune?" Sirius looks around. "Alice!? James!?"

Alice purses her lips. "I'll take you up on that offer now." She says to her girlfriend, and they go back in Narcissa' room.

"What the fuck?"

Remus walks over to Sirius and starts pushing him slowly back in his room. "Let's go back in, fy nghariad."

Sirius grumbles, turns around to go back in, and stops. "We will talk about this later, Prongs." They go back in.

"So, that happened." Pandora says.

"I say we do the same and go back in our rooms, yeah?" Emmeline says.

They all agree and go back in. "Come on, mon soleil." Regulus says.

"I should really go."

Regulus starts kissing up James' jaw line. He stops. "Are you sure?"

James grumbles and drags his boyfriend back in the room.

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bimoonphases · 1 month

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@wolfstarmicrofic March 19 – prompt 19: Unbreakable Vow – word count 689

Unbreakable Vow - A magically binding contract that results in the death of whoever breaks it

Sirius knew he could scream all he wanted but his father’s studio was shielded and no one would hear him. Not that the over one hundred guests at the Sacred Twenty-eight Gala would actually care. No, they would probably just admire Walburga Black’s sense of discipline over her household.

He screamed again, every part of his body as if it was on fire, as his mother kept her wand pointed at him, her face twisted with rage.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice?” she hissed.

She lifted her wand and the pain decreased enough for Sirius to notice his trousers were sticking to his calves. He wondered vaguely if all the blood from the Slicing curse would finally ruin his best robes.

“You really thought you could get away with it?” Walburga went on. “As much as it pains me, I am your mother, I know you!”

There were spots dancing before Sirius’s eyes and a small part of his mind was sobbing that for once he had behaved. There had been no pranks, no impertinent answers, nothing. He had kept to himself throughout the reception and the dinner, focusing on the only thought that could get him through it. Moony. Moony and his calm, Moony and his smile, Moony and his embrace. Moony’s arms, Moony’s hands, Moony’s lips.

“Crucio!” his mother shouted.

Sirius screamed again, writhing on the expensive carpet, the office whirling around him.

“You thought I wouldn’t check why you were behaving so well?” Walburga lifted her wand again. “You really thought you could hide those disgusting memories from me?”

Sirius’s heart dropped. With all her duties as hostess of one of the most important events of the year, he hadn’t thought his mother would take the time to use Legilimency on him, especially if he was behaving well. He really couldn’t win with her.

“No son of mine will ever consort with a half-breed!” Walburga went on. “No son of mine will ever have unnatural relations!”

“Then,” Sirius managed to whisper. “I’m not your son.”

Walburga’s features twisted in an evil grin.

“But you are, Sirius,” she lowered her voice. “You always will be. And if you don’t want to, I will make you. Next summer, you will take the Dark Mark and follow the path you’re destined to.”

“Never.”

“You will. You will take the Unbreakable Vow tonight and do as you’re told.”

Sirius swallowed. The most powerful magical pledge you could take, which bound you to your word and killed you if you broke it.

“I’d rather die,” he spat.

“I know you would,” Walburga said slowly. “But you’ll take it with Regulus who will swear to help you keep your word. And you wouldn’t want something bad to happen to your brother, would you?”

She whirled around in a flurry of evening skirts and walked out of the office, leaving Sirius frozen in horror on the carpet. She was right, he wouldn’t make Regulus risk his life. He wasn’t fine with the idea of dying, but better him than Regulus. Always.

He managed to get up, leaning heavily on the fireplace, roaring despite the warm weather, and looked desperately around, locating his wand, which had been confiscated as soon as he had crossed the threshold coming back from Hogwarts, on Orion’s desk. Grunting with each step, he managed to walk there and grab it along with the ornate box his parents kept the Floo powder supply in. There was no time to think it through or hesitate, no time to wonder if there was another way. He needed to run. For himself. For Regulus.

He threw a handful of Floo powder in the fireplace and as soon as the flames turned green he said the first address that came to him before stepping in. James’s.

“I’m sorry, Reggie,” he sobbed, gripping his wand as the flames engulfed him and the fireplace in Grimmauld Place disappeared, the signet ring emblem of the heir of the Black family left glittering malevolently on the carpet.

He had always thought he would run away one day. He had never thought he would need to leave Regulus behind.

#not me writing traumatic shit at work #but yeah here it is #the night Sirius left #also Walburga definitely read her sons' minds she's awful enough #wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus x sirius #marauders #marauders era #regulus black #walburga black #walburga's a+ parenting #the marauders #the marauders era #the noble and most ancient house of black #just writing (like i'm supposed to live)

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aeonix-posts · 8 months

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Council meeting from TFP rewritten into my au :3

——————————————————————

"It's not just! Megatronus, homicide and violence is not the *answer!*"

Orion blurted from below the platform of which Megatronus stood upon. Distraught present in his expression.

"This is not the way to.. to peace, —to justice! You *promised* you'd do this through peaceful means!"

He shouted at Megatronus, his expression one of annoyance while he stared at Orion in disdain. Orion turned his helm to face the bots whomst bred malice and lifelong hatred among cybertronians, and walked up the steps to level ground with his partner upon the platform.

"High Council, I plead of you! *Demolish* the caste system, it only introduces greed and selfishness to newly formed bots. It— it's horrible! We can solve this by slowly integrating low caste bots and high caste bots into a normal life. We could *resolve* discrimination and hatred amongst the ranks!"

Orion shouted from below the high podium that the High Council were seated in. Sentinel Zeta Prime began muttering to the other council members, Halogen taking notes of everything. Sigil sitting atop his podium with a gavel resting in his servo.

The spectator bots murmured amongst themselves, the voices melting into each other that none of it was understandable in either Megatronus or Orion's audio receptors.

Sigil hit his gavel, and with a loud bang the entire room went quiet. Orion put confidence in his stance, a backbone if you will.

"If we do not tear down the caste system then more fights and rallies will break out, I beg you, do not allow our world to be infected by greed that comes from those who oppress and resentment from those who *are* oppressed!"

Orion spoke to the council, his words logical, his methods peaceful, and his goal just. Megatronus stared at him in disbelief, his vents stalling with each inhale and exhale.

He *knew* it would be hard to convince the council to name him prime; but never did he think that his own partner, his lover, his *lacuna* to join the conversation and make him look so.. so *cruel* in front of *all of Cybertron* so casually.

But before Orion could spout more words, he was cut off by Zetas voice. Everyone's optics darted to look at the prime, even Megatronus.

"You, Orion Pax, a data clerk at the Iacons hall of archives, apprentice of Alpha Trion, have moved the council's sparks and processors. And for the first time since the Golden Age, stands someone *worthy* of being a prime-"

"**WHAT!?**"

Zeta was cut off by shout coming from behind Orion. Blazing Azure optics wide and glowing brightly, filled with rage and resentment. Megatronus glared the council down, his EM field *flared* with anger that everyone in the room could feel it.

They all unanimously lurched at the feeling of the gladiators strong EM field, even the Council was startled by it suddenly lashing out. Orion snapped his helm back to look at him, sky blue optics wide in shock and concern, maybe even *fear*.

"I slaved away in the mines, obeying every order my superiors told me! I fought in the gladiatorial pit, risked life and limb for a name! I dragged myself through the mud and covered myself in energon just to be here, and you.. you name a mere *clerk* a ***PRIME!?***"

The spectator bots whispered in their seats, casting horrified gazes at Megatronus. The jury also spoke with each other, the jury being the council. Halogen had to pause momentarily to cast a gaze at the gladiator before quickly returning to his work of highlighting and taking notes of the session.

"You, who claims to dislike slaves like myself so much for ‘starting a revolution’, and yet did not think for a moment that you would cause more resentment and anger by looking down upon me in front of our *entire race*! That you would get multiple bots to side with you, but instead would get several dozen bots siding against you and start an *assault*. You, who was ready to murder millions of slaves and low caste bots for the sake of your petty feelings. You are hypocrites, shallow bots that just wanted to kill. To *murder!*"

"Megatronus!-"

The gladiator shifted his glare to Orion, a loud growl rumbling deep inside his systems. The clerk almost jumped when he looked at him.

"And *you*. You promised you'd help me, to build a better society for *EVERYONE*! I should have trusted what Soundwave told me, I should've **NEVER** trusted you I knew that a bot with your status helping those who are expendable be too good an *illusion*, you turned your back on me like everyone else!"

"I've been forsaken by Primus, I've had to fight to get anything I need. And yet *still* takes *everything* from me!"

Coolant started gathering in Megatronus' optics, but he quickly wiped them away. Every vent he took was shaky, you could feel his EM field *prickling* with an unexplainable sorrow.

"And maybe, just *maybe*, in another universe, you'd had loved me— instead of *wishing me love*. That *maybe* in some other universe, you wouldn't take everything from me. —That you'd look in the mirror and think just for a moment, "Am I doing this right?" Is *that* wanted you wanted to hear, Pax?"

Orion could see the tints of crimson in his Azure optics, he tried to reach out to his partner but he just stood there— like the coward he is.

Everything felt like a blurr, everything went silent for Orion, an annoying ringing residing in his audio receptors. But he could hear Zeta yelling at Megatronus, but all he did was just *stand* there— optics shaking and his vents stalling with every breath. It all happened so fast, *too fast*.

And then everything came back to him, he snapped back to the harsh reality. And all he could see was Megatronus, the same Megatronus he had loved since the first day they met, the same Megatronus he held close and accepted with open arms with no hesitation or second thought. The same, yet somehow, so different from who he was.

The gladiator was already walking away from the platform when the clerk came back to his senses, he tried to scream, beg, yell, chase and reach for him— but he couldn't. He was a coward and he knew it, he knew that deep down he always doubted Megatronus, judged and criticized him for everything he's done. He knew that deep inside his aching, crying, spark that he still saw him.. as a ***monster.***

#alternate universe #maccadam #maccadams #transformers #orion pax #megatronus #megatron #zeta prime #alpha trion #halogen #origin story #tfp #rewrite

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melishade · 3 months

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Number 39?

This ask game

Solveig meeting Ymir and giving Maria her name in the Peaceful Timeline Part 9: How Maria gets her name

"I can't you've somehow managed to trick him, Solveig," Sigrid remarked as she stood next to the herbalist. The old woman was grinning watching the gray haired man that she had conned helping Beini repair the roof of a house. Beini was explaining the logistics to the man, but he looked annoyed every second.

"Well desperation makes a man do stupid things," Solveig declared.

"How long do you think before he gets back at you?" Sigrid asked her.

"Who knows," Solveig shrugged before Idunn and Darrbey walk up to her, "Hello you two."

"Hi, Solveig," Darrbey greeted while Idunn looked like she was trying to keep a brave face.

"How are you two doing right now?" Solveig asked gently.

"...Better," Idunn decided to answer, "Not the best."

"One day at a time, Idunn," Solveig reassured her, earning a small nod from the woman. Solveig then turned back to look at the gray haired man's work.

Sigrid sighed in response, knowing it would be unwise to say anything about their situation right now. However, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She turned her gaze and her mouth dropped. Darrbey and Idunn noticed how distracted she was and followed her gaze. They looked on in surprise at the sight.

Orion had returned to the village. He didn't notice them looking at him as his attention was to the one hammering away on the roof. He was holding the hand of a young woman who was desperately trying to make herself appear smaller and hide behind Orion. However, she couldn't help but look up at the roof in disbelief. The young woman looked nothing like Orion. His hair was dark and black while hers was light and yellow. His eyes were a stunning blue while hers were a dull gray. She gripped Orion's right hand with her left, and in her left arm was...a baby. A baby that she was holding so tightly to her chest, swaddled in cloth, her appearance hidden from the world.

Sigrid couldn't believe it. The girl was actually real, and so was the baby that Orion had brought up. Sigrid noticed the way that Idunn's face had gotten so tight and tense. She could see the rage and jealousy in those eyes that looked ready to overflow from tears. Sigrid saw Darrbey shock all over his face, and the woman could hear the whispers of the villagers passing by. The girl was real? There was a baby? Why did they not look alike? Was that even her father? Or was he some sort of caretaker to her?

"Listen to Beini, Matthew!" Solveig warned, "He has more experience than you do! And when you're done, another home needs the floor fixed!"

"Shut up, you old hag!" Matthew shouted at her.

"Oh, I just remembered something else you could help out with," Solveig recalled.

Matthew growled at her in response, but Sigrid elbowed Solveig in the rib cage.

"Damn it, Sigrid, I don't have the strength I used to," Solveig hissed at her, but Sigrid pointed to both Orion and the woman, and the herbalist was now intrigued.

"Ah, welcome back Orion," Solveig greeted him as Orion walked forward to her with the other woman in tow, "I'm sorry I stole your friend, but Matthew had taken some herbs from me in exchange for hard labor."

"You said your house only! You tricked me!" Matthew shouted at her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Solveig feigned innocence.

"I see." Orion still seemed flabbergasted at the sight. Solveig's gaze then fell from Orion to the woman. The woman grew tense when she stepped behind him. Solveig noticed the way the bundle she was holding in her arm was squirming.

"You must be the daughter," Solveig remarked, "You look nothing like your fa-!"

"She is my daughter," Orion cut her off, and Solveig noticed the way that Orion was looking at her with warning.

"I see," Solveig merely replied before turning to the woman, "Ymir is your name, right?"

Ymir flinched in response before nodding her head.

"Matthew told me that the herbs he wanted from me were for your child." Solveig's gaze fell to the bundle, "Which I assume you brought with you. May I take a look at the child?"

Solveig noticed the way Ymir grew rigid at the request.

"She would prefer if you did not," Orion told her.

"Can she not answer for herself?" Solveig demanded in annoyance.

"Not without her notebook!" Matthew yelled from the roof.

Solveig snapped her head at Matthew before looking back at Ymir. Was this girl mute? She supposed it was a complication then. She wasn't expecting this.

"Ymir, I only want to know if the child is healthy," Solveig reasoned, "I noticed how concerned Matthe was for the child when he came to ask for herbs."

Both Orion and Ymir stared in surprise.

"I will not touch the child, but may I see it?" Solveig requested.

Ymir looked down at the bundle in her hand before letting go of Orion's hand. She positioned the bundle and slowly turned it so that Solveig could see it. Solveig couldn't help but marvel at the sight. The baby looked strong and healthy. The cheeks were pink and full of life, and she could all ten fingers as the baby started to struggle from its restraints and kick around. The baby yawned as it opened its eyes, staring up at Solveig with eyes resembling her mother's.

Sigrid noticed the way that Idunn's voice hitched when the baby finally came into view. The woman's heart couldn't take it and she stormed off without a word, trying so hard to contain her tears. Darrbey quickly followed after her, but Sigrid stayed behind.

"Strong and healthy," Solveig commented, "A boy or a girl?"

"A girl," Orion answered.

"Hm," Solveig hummed, "Does she have a name?"

Solveig noticed the way that Orion seemed startled at the question while Ymir looked away solemnly. They...they hadn't named the child?! How many months has it been since she was born?! Solveig calmed down and assessed the situation again. She stared at Ymir, and noticed how ashamed she looked. She didn't know what was going through her head, but Solveig has been around long enough to know that Ymir has been through enough.

"I see," Solveig finally spoke, "Then let me ask something important: do you love this child?"

Solveig noticed how Ymir looked like she was contemplating that answer and waited. Even Orion seemed curious to see her response. Ymir looked somewhat hesitant, turning her attention to the baby. The baby looked up at her and started cooing and fussing some more, waving her hands around and clenching her fists. Ymir extended her hand and gave the baby her finger, and the baby clenched it as tight as she could before gnawing on it. That expression of hesitance turned into one of resolve and she nodded her head.

"Then, I recommend the name Maria," Solveig informed her, "It means 'beloved'."

Ymir seemed to ponder the name, but before she could answer her, Matthew jumped down from the roof, startling Sigrid.

"Your roof is done," Matthew told her cholericly.

"Wonderful," Solveig said with a smile, "Now about that floor."

"Listen here wench-!"

"Are you backing down from your word?" Solveig taunted.

"Ma'am, I would advise-!"

"Is that a challenge, woman?" Matthew demanded.

"A threat," Solveig smirked, "If you don't complete this for me then you can kiss the next favor you'll demand from me goodbye. Everyone gets sick, and will ultimately come to me for help. You wouldn't want to piss me off now, would you?"

Matthew snarled at her before taking a deep breath. "Lead the way."

"Follow me," Solveig told him, "As for the two of you, I think it's good for you to take a look at the whole village."

"T-thank you," Orion stuttered as the two followed Solveig, leaving Sigrid by herself. Sigrid shock turned into a maniacal grin. She had so much gossip for the ladies!

Later

"Megatron-!"

"No," Megatron warned as the holoform opened the door to the cabin.

"Megatron this is important!" Optimus insisted.

"No!" Megatron yelled as they all walked inside.

"How long will you continue to work for her?!" Optimus demanded.

"Just shut up and keep quiet about it!" Megatron ordered him.

"M-Mar....Maria," Both paused in their argument and turned their attention to Ymir, who was still holding the baby. They noticed the way that Ymir stared at the child so fondly. She kissed the baby on the forehead, causing the baby to squirm at the sensation. Both titans looked at each other for confirmation. But it didn't seem like it was needed. The child was going to be called Maria.

((Free game: 44, 46, 14, 19,26, 32,34, 36, 37. 17 and 45 have has been asked.)

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outpost51 · 5 months

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Stellar Parallax

Chapter 11: Bury

Secrets. Hatchets. Friends.

Rating: Mature

Chapter WC: 10,141

Warning(s): violence, gore

Preview below the cut.

{READ HERE ON AO3}

Jane was cold. Artificial and tacky on her skin, slightly sweet and very drying in her nose and throat — air conditioning. She tried to roll over, but a cushioned wall stopped her.

Long red hair flowed over the driver’s seat when she opened her eyes.

“Mom?” she croaked, reaching between the seats — callused fingers with painted nails wrapped around her hand and squeezed.

“Go back to sleep, Jane,” her mother murmured. “We’re not there yet.”

Static raked over Janis Joplin’s greatest hits; the radio stations quickly scanned up and down, and amidst the buzzing hiss, some words managed to filter through — come… see… curious… one…

A cut Jane couldn’t remember tugged sharply at her left eyebrow as she furrowed them both. “Mom, did you… hear that?”

“Hear what?”

The radio had stopped scanning on an oldies station — Dolly Parton crooned her lament against another woman with long red hair and emerald eyes.

Jane shook her head. “Nevermind,” she muttered, sitting up only to rest her brow on the window. “It’s nothing.”

She watched the raindrops race each other across the glass as the world passed by in a dreamy blur.

More static. Some preacher started shouting through the noise. “Let me ask you a question! When someone is suffering, when someone needs salvation, where do you think they should go?” It was rhetorical, obviously, but hundreds of voices whispered answers in hundreds of tongues. “Should they go and stand in line for days and weeks, waiting for a handout that may never come? Or should they come here, where we hand out the prophet’s love and healing to whoever walks through those doors!”

Static. Scanning— find… me… come find… me…

Jane sat up. “John, did you—”

“It’s just static, Jane,” her brother groaned from the passenger seat. When he turned, his eyes were hollow. “Go back to sleep.”

She didn’t want to, but something forced her back down.

Bright lights flashed through the cab, and the whole car lurched to the side. Before they hit the water this time, Jane rolled off the seat.

Her sweat-damp cheek stuck to the metal floor — metal, not automotive carpet littered with crumbs. There was no rain on the windows, or windows at all. An engine hummed quietly in some other place, not far but not right beneath her, and elsewhere, something sizzled.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Helix Taglist: @sparatus @thetrashbagswasteland @teamdilf @tabswrites @starknstarwars @sparrow-orion-writes @captain-kraken @cljordan-imperium

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, DMs, or HERE!

#stellar parallax #my fic #mass effect #mass effect fanfiction #no reapers au #helix series

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steam-powered-chaos · 24 days

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The Blue Moon Festival (A Frozen Storm short story)

[Tw murder, mentions of abuse and slight transphobia]

“Orion my boy, once you’ve finished up over there you can help me with these boxes!” The 17 year old’s father called, the boy looking up and giving him a nod as he tightened the lady’s corset, his light fingers carefully twisting and finishing the outfit off with a bow, bowing to the old woman with a cheeky smile and a wink. Her cheeks flushed as she smiled back at him, tipping her hat to him. “You’ve raised a fine young man here Alastair!” She called out to his father and the man chuckled fondly, as Orion rushed over to take a heavy box from his arms, beaming at her. After all, the Blue Moon festival was that night, and preparations couldn’t cease. His brother Thomas scoffed, sneering at him and Orion’s smile fell, his eyes dropping to the floor at his younger twin’s reaction. “Don’t you mean girl?” He let out a cackle, and Orion shrunk into himself, silently sliding the box into place and turning away, trying to ignore the prickling shame on the back of his neck. He glanced up in time to see Thomas get cuffed around the ear and given a stern look by his father, to which he glared at him. “Don’t talk about your brother that way Thomas. In fact, he’s acting more like a man than you are! So get off your arse and help with these boxes, Orion, you go check on your mama.”

Thomas grumbled, begrudgingly sliding off the wall he was sitting and grabbing a box, Orion walking past him with his head lowered, flinching when he felt a foot stamp onto his, biting his tongue to stop himself from yelling out with pain as he walked inside. Upon scanning the house, he deducted his mother must be upstairs, painting again, so went to the stove, heating up the kettle. Upon hearing its whistle, he carefully poured the boiling water into the teacup and carrying the tea upstairs into the observatory. Sure enough, there she was, her hair untied and flowing down her back as she painted quietly. “Mama? I brought you tea..” Orion whispered, and she paused with a soft gasp, turning her face slightly to look at him, her soft pink eyes shining slightly and she nodded kindly. “Thank you Orion, you’re very kind… how are the festival preparations going?” His smile returned, sitting down on a paint stained old stool, before his smile began to fade again, thinking of what his brother had said to him. “…Mama? Why does… why does Thomas hate me?” The siren let out a quiet sigh, putting down the paintbrush and turning to face him properly, her long pointed ears so similar to his own, as she reached out and stroked his cheek gently.

“Oh my star, your brother doesn’t hate you… that’s just sometimes how siblings are, you know?” He sighed heavily, looking away slightly from her gentle, concerned eyes. “Really? You think so?” He murmured quietly. “I know so, now come on, let’s continue those festival preparations!” She stood up, swiftly making her way downstairs, leaving Orion to follow after her, although he paused a moment to mull over her words. He walked downstairs, heading out into the sunshine that bathed his face in a golden light, as Thomas stood in the shade as he hauled box after box, growling at Orion when he walked over to help.

He was sent sprawling to the floor, as the pirate crashed into him, grabbing onto his arms to stop him fleeing on instinct, as there was a shout from the police, quickly hauling the man off of Orion. He looked around 19, his gorgeous orange eyes staring into Orion’s own shocked expression, the boy’s cheeks slowly flushing upon looking closer at the other’s handsome face. The pirate grinned at him, winking at him as he was carted away, Orion still dumbstruck on the floor, as his father lifted him back onto his feet and brushing him off, the boy only able to give him a faint nod in response to being asked if he was alright, the blush on his face slowly fading. He shook his head to clear it, slowly going back to the boxes and steadily lifting out the streamers, shaking away thoughts of handsome pirates. “Poor boy.. I swear they get younger every year” Alastair shook his head, starting to take the decorations out from the boxes. Orion grabbed a string of bunting, before walking off into the market, stringing it across the oil lampposts and market stalls, smiling as he watched boats dock into the harbour as the sun slowly began to set. After all, the blue moon was a brilliant sight, and the Festival usually brought crowds from all over, although they never usually began arriving this early. Once Orion had finished his decorating spree, he climbed onto the roof of the old house his family had lived in, leaning against the stained glass window at the very top of the house and watching as the moon began to rise from the ocean.

“Orion! Boy, get down from there, the festival is starting!” His father called, and he laughed, the wind flowing in his hair as he clambered back down, landing on the soft green grass with a little humph. He smiled, walking beside his father into the market, although briefly wondered where his mother and Thomas had gone too, but assumed that Thomas was most likely sulking somewhere. He was never one for festivities after all. So Orion slowly split off from his Alastair’s side, going to the nearest market stall that caught his eye, one selling colourful pendants in the shapes of the water god’s symbol, a symbol of luck especially to seafaring folk, Orion thought to himself, sliding a few coins across the counter and took the pendant handed to him. He paused, his eyes drifting to an alleyway as his ears seemed to prick up slightly, and he narrowed his eyes at the sight of a scrap of familiar fabric.

He walked into the alleyway silently, the sounds of the busy festival quietening as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, smelling something… pungent and metallic. That’s when he saw it, his mother’s corpse, laying still warm on the ground, a shocked scream catching in his throat as he ran to her side, shaking her rapidly cooling body, her blue blood getting all over his hands and sleeve, flinging his face down onto her to listen for any kind of heartbeat. It was no use, she was dead, and recently too. Orion barely lifted his head as he heard quiet footsteps from behind him, and a shocked gasp from Thomas. “Orion, what have you done? You-… you monster! You murdered her, your own mother!” He cried, and Orion stammered slightly in shock, trying to wipe her blood from his face as his brother ran out, yelling murder.

Orion was dragged away from his mother’s corpse, tears streaming down his face, police gripping his arms tightly as he thrashed and squirmed, pleading his innocence, as his family watched in shock and grief, Alastair kneeling down by Diana’s side with a quiet sob. Slowly, the crowds dispersed, leaving the man and his son to grieve, before Thomas walked away in silence. Orion yelled out as he was dragged into the dungeons, into the deepest pit and thrown into a cell, curling up into a corner as sobs wracked his body.

And Helio listened from the other cell, as the young man grieved for a crime he did not commit, and a mother he was not allowed to say goodbye to.

#original story #original characters #original fiction #original character #Orion Stormturner #Helio Frostheart #Alastair Stormturner #Diana Stormturner #Thomas Stormturner #Tw slight transphobia #Tw transphobia #Tw murder #Tw death #tw blood

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thehauntedair · 8 months

Text

Day 2: Honey

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Would you like some honey?”

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, softly. She had had to lean down. She had tasted like-

Sinking into it, soft, warm, so gentle-

Darting around grand white pillars looking for a place to hide, heart racing, pounding in her chest-

Dancing, passed from hand to hand to hand, the whole world golden, shining, bright-

Shouting against strong, gasping, salty winds, the smell of the ocean thick in her nose-

Spinning, spinning, spinning, dizzy and gasping with laughter, and friends-

“Four! Three! Two! Happy New-!”

Cannon fire, so loud, why is it so loud-

Kneeling before the moon whispering secrets and promising and begging please, please, please-

His hands on her back, swaying back and forth, back and forth-

“I love you, don’t you dare forget that I-“

Resting the crown on the head of the new king, golden, too heavy, how is he going to bear-

Drums, thumping percussion, moving with it, feeling her bones rattle-

The taste of blood in her mouth, the taste of-

Dandelions, weaving them together, fingers stained green, almost done, just a few more-

“Found you! I got you! It’s your turn you got to-“

Kneeling down, lifting a feather from the ground. Seagull. Huh-

Swinging from a vine, hanging midair, just about to fall into the water, breathless and just about to-

Curling smoke rings drifting up, up, watching them-

Hands wet with clay, turning the table, shaping it, no wait that-

Keys dangling off of a key ring, jingling, just off her belt, and she tugs one off-

His eyes, his eyes-

Sunsets-

Sunrises-

“It looks like the sun is going to-“

Crashing together like waves and the aftermath-

“Are you sure this is going to wash out?” “Oh don’t worry it-“

Climbing up, up, feeling the stinging on her knee but it’s okay, it’s-

All of those owls, there are too many, there are too many of them, they are going to-

Screeching cries, moments, help me, help me, please-

Bones scattered across the room, why were there so many b-

“Well I think if you like him you should probably do something about it, it isn’t like-“

The soft fabric of a blanket, white like snow, a glimpse of it-

“That one is called Orion, you see, it’s those stars right there, they form-“

The feeling of it between her fingers, the strings, and the-

The weight of a sword in her hand, again, dripping with sweat, and she swings-

Gasping for air-

“Are you sure that pink is going to be-“

Drowning, drowning, I’m drowning, help, please-

Hellohellohellohellohellohellohellohellohello-

“Sweetness, are you alright? I asked if you’d like some honey?”

Fate shakes her head, tears rolling down her cheeks, and presses a hand to where her heart would be, if it were not in someone else’s chest.

“No, no. Thank you.”

#the starless sea #the haunted air #tss #Sobfest September #Day 2: Honey #this one’s mine!#Fate/Mirabel

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kcrabb88 · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,927 times in 2022

That's 165 more posts than 2021!

382 posts created (20%)

1,545 posts reblogged (80%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@pilferingapples

@rosesutherlandwrites

@amarguerite

@thegreatblondebalrogslayer

@kcrabb88

I tagged 1,925 of my posts in 2022

#les mis - 334 posts

#fanart - 320 posts

#gifs - 303 posts

#star wars tag - 231 posts

#kcrabb rambles - 219 posts

#obi-wan kenobi - 198 posts

#pirates tag - 188 posts

#sea tag - 144 posts

#the constellation trilogy - 139 posts

#black sails - 131 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#god i remember casual fans being like oh dominic west was good in this and i'm like he couldn't be because the script did valjean no justice

My Top Posts in 2022:

Les Mis meets Black Sails + Robin Hood in Sailing by Orion’s Star (The Constellation Trilogy, #1), out TODAY!

In the 18th century West Indies, stories hold the ultimate power. Sailors spin yarns about pirates. Newspapers tell tales full of half-truths. Myths spread like whispered wildfire.

East India Company sailor Nicholas Jerome has no patience for pirates, determined to leave his father's thieving past behind. After a convict and an enslaved woman escape his grasp with the aid of an aristocrat's mysterious wife, he faces one last chance to save his career. Finding an unexpected home with a new crew, he gains a chosen younger brother in René Delacroix, the son of his wealthy captain and the grandson of Jamaica's cruel governor.

But there's a storm brewing in the Delacroix household. For René and his best friend Frantz, the Robin Hood tales about legendary pirate Ajani Danso and his famed female quartermaster are a lifeline amidst the governor's abuse. Danso robs greedy merchants, frees slaves, and shelters queer sailors, inspiring the downtrodden across the New World.

When death and betrayal shatter the lives they knew, René and Jerome each face a choice: obey, or rebel.

A war for history's favor begins, and as an uprising against colonialism erupts on the ocean, everyone must choose a story to believe in.

You can order here (paperback or e-book from several retailers) or here (for readers outside the US who want to order a paperback from a non-Amazon retailer).

135 notes - Posted April 26, 2022

Sailing by Orion’s Star Cover Reveal!

I am so EXTREMELY excited to reveal the cover for Sailing by Orion’s Star! This gorgeous artwork was done by the wonderful Abby Gavit, whose work you can check out here. @prosodi

I’ve spent a long time thinking about what this cover would look like, and I honestly could not be more pleased with this. Truly, it is a dream cover. I want to give a special shout out to the Les Mis fandom, who have been with me on this project since its very early days, when I didn’t know what it would be. <3

Sailing by Orion’s Star will release on April 26th!

Also, check out the full wrap cover (and the blurb!) for the print edition. Don’t miss the skull in the clouds!

See the full post

150 notes - Posted February 22, 2022

Do you like Les Mis, Black Sails, Robin Hood tales, queer pirates, found families and epics? Paperback pre-orders for Sailing by Orion’s Star (The Constellation Trilogy, #1) are live! Release is set for 4/26.

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Book Depository (Sometimes if you’re using Chrome the cover doesn’t pop up, so if you don’t see it, it is the right listing and you can still pre-order! The cover has popped up on all other browsers)

Bookshop (US friends, if you haven’t used this website before, you can choose a digital “storefront” for participating indie bookstores, and they will profit off the sale. If you’re near the DC area, I tend to choose Kramer’s or East City Books. And hey, if enough folks buy from particular indies, maybe they’ll consider stocking it in store!)

International friends: you should be able to buy paperbacks from Amazon if it’s available in your country, and Book Depository (above) ships to something like 160 countries (The UK, pretty much all of Europe, some parts of Asia and South America, etc.)

Interested in e-books? I have those too! You can get it on Kindle, Kobo, Nook, and others. (Kobo is easy for international folks!)

Add the book on Goodreads!

Subscribe to my newsletter for fun pirate facts and updates!

For content warnings, check out my website

Book trailer!

240 notes - Posted March 28, 2022

The 2012 Les Mis movie surely has its issues, but god, that transition from Stars to Look Down (Paris) is just *chef’s kiss*

344 notes - Posted June 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Okay so here’s the thing. If I see one more “who cares about historical accuracy in a historical piece of media” I am truly going to lose my entire mind. I’m not asking for TOTAL accuracy down to the detail (I don’t strive for that, and things should connect with a modern reader) but I AM asking that books and shows and movies ENGAGE WITH THE PERIOD THEY’RE SUPPOSEDLY SET IN. The new Persuasion is just the newest (and one of the most egregious) instances of this, but I’ve seen this sentiment a lot, recently. If you don’t care about historical stuff, then why create or engage with historical media? The goal should not be to “modernize” historical fiction, but to create and engage with more diverse historical media. Different settings and periods! More stories about queer and BIPOC folks! Historical fiction has so so much to offer without stripping it of all historical context. I’m tired.

1,793 notes - Posted July 18, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #WOW THIS IS ALL SO ON BRAND I'M LAUGHING

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edupunkn00b · 2 years

Text

French Kiss: Tale of the Revolution, Ch. 8: The Palace of Versailles

Prev - The Palace of Versailles - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Ooh, I like the way you make me feel like I could be The number one game in town And all those pretty words you say to me, they pick me up Whenever I'm feeling down ... But I know you're just a White Witch putting that spell on me (La-la-la lies) Look deep into my eyes (La-la-la lies) Say there's no one else above me I'm the King of Fools, 'cause, baby, you're the queen of white lies - The Queen of White Lies, The Orion Experience ---

11 June 1789

The weak afternoon sun dipped closer to the horizon and the shadows in the music room lengthened as Remus listened to his Sir Henri’s stories of what life was really like in Paris. He moved only to refill his guest’s teacup, and even then he barely took his eyes off him, nailed to his chair as he learned the truth of life beyond the extravagance and… frankly, debauchery of the halls of Versailles.

When the teapot was emptied, Prince Remus passed him his own untouched cup, and continued to listen.

When he’d finished, Remus sat back, quiet with his own thoughts shouting in his mind. “We can change this,” he said at last. “Once he learns of this, the King… my father—”

“He already knows.” The clear golden eyes across the table looked almost pitying. “Ten years ago, the King toured Paris. He saw for himself what his policies, what his ministers’ policies were enabling.” He shook his head. “The King refused to act.”

“Perhaps I can reason with him. Perhaps—” The prince’s voice fell away at his stony face.

He finished the last of his tea and folded his gloved hands in his lap. “ Perhaps he won’t always be the King.” He leaned forward and met Prince Remus’ eyes. There was warmth behind their sharp focus and his voice had turned soft. Remus reached for his hand without thinking. “There are… rumors in Paris that the King is ill. Are they true?”

Remus nodded once.

“Then perhaps when you are King…”

“I can make things right,” Prince Remus quietly finished.

The last ray of sun dipped below the window sill, plunging the room in an eerie twilight. “You have far to travel,” Remus said, looking toward the window. “You should stay. There’s plenty of room and it’s safer than traveling at night.” He lifted his guest’s hand and brushed the faintest kiss against the back of it. “Please, mon Sir Henri, stay the night here.”

“I…” For a moment, he looked as though he might say yes, meeting Remus’ eyes with a soft, molten heat. The prince leaned over the tiny table separating them and grasped his gloved hand with both of his, hope hammering in his chest. But ultimately, he shook his head. “My horseman… H—he is waiting for me.”

Remus lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles again. Even in the darkened room, the blush across his cheeks shone sweetly through his face powder. He wanted to reach out and pull him close and to say to hell with the horseman… or to just bring the horseman to live here, too. Bring his entire household, whatever he needed to do to keep this glorious man right here in his palace. Right here in his arms. “When can you return, mon Sir Henri?”

“Next week,” he promised, smiling when Remus erupted in a joyous laugh and kissed his hand again.

For once, the prince fell asleep easily that night, that beautiful whispered response still dancing through his mind.

16 June 1789

The early morning skies were bright and clear when they next traveled to Versailles, the road dry and free of treacherous puddles, the horses steady. And yet, Logan again was quieter than usual, giving only short answers to Janus’ most provocative questions.

“Logan,” Janus began carefully. “You are unusually quiet today. And you can’t say it’s the road. Are you unwell?” He gestured at the path ahead of them. “We’re still several miles out from the palace. Why don’t you allow me to guide the horses and you can rest in the compartment?” He held out his hand to take the reins. “I’ll wake you in plenty of time to trade places.”

“No,” Logan said before letting out a slow breath and turning to smile at Janus. “No, I am quite all right. But thank you, Janus.” His smile was soft but didn’t reach his eyes. “It is a very kind offer, but unnecessary.”

They rode in silence for several more minutes and Janus snuck glances from the corner of his eye, seeking any clue for what was bothering his friend. More than once, Logan caught him looking. Finally, he sighed and smiled again. This time, Janus spotted that little crinkle in the corner of his eyes, his smile just a bit broader. “Why don’t you tell me more about our future King?”

~~~

Logan listened intently to Janus’ recollections of some of the smaller moments he’d shared with Prince Remus. With the frequent trips to Versailles, he was becoming accustomed to the path and was able to give his dear friend a larger share of his attention as he spoke.

Janus’ eyes glowed as he spoke about the prince and described in detail everything they did together, replaying the moment he recognized the differences between the princes, their layered inside jokes that he was still theorizing. He described their discussions… and their brief kiss. A mix of warmth and melancholy spread through Logan’s chest at the bubbly happiness in Janus’ voice and he nodded slowly.

“It sounds as though he has grown quite fond of you,” Logan murmured just loudly enough to be heard over the rattle of the carriage and the horses’ hooves against the pavers. He met Janus’ eyes. They danced with joy at Logan’s assessment, or merely it was just the memory of the time he’d spent with the prince. “And you of him,” he added carefully.

“Logan, you don’t think I’ve forgotten why I’m—”

“No.” He gathered the reins in one hand and placed the other over Janus’. “No, of course not. I am not suggesting that at all.” Logan gave his hand a little squeeze and smiled gently. “I merely do not wish to see you hurt. You are too important to me to sit by silently and let that happen. He doesn’t know who you really are, correct?”

Janus shook his head, the pain in his eyes stabbing through Logan’s own heart and making him regret his next necessary question. “Has he shown any sign he might suspect the truth?”

He seemed to consider the possibility but in the end, shook his head. “Rem—the prince has listened, genuinely listened to the struggles of the people of Paris. He’s openly discussed his father’s health… I…” Janus swallowed hard and for a moment Logan thought he might be sick. “I have his complete trust.”

“Good,” Logan said without reservation. Janus turned to him with sharp eyes. “You will need his trust to stay safe. If the prince were to discover who you really are, that you had lied and were pretending to be some noble…” Logan’s voice shook. “Janus, you would be executed.”

“I know, Lo,” Janus said quietly and looked off into the trees as they passed a thicket of flowering hawthornes. Logan recalled seeing similar trees through the gates at Versailles. “I know.”

~~~

This time, when the steward escorted Janus to the music room, Remus was already there, and, as they approached, opened both doors with a flourish. Still, his voice was quiet as he gently accepted Janus’ gloved hand and kissed the back of it. “You’re here,” he whispered, cradling his hand with both of his own, almost as though he didn’t quite believe Janus really had returned.

“I promised I would be,” Janus replied, glancing quickly at the waiting steward, grateful his extra face powder likely masked his blush.

Remus dismissed the steward without taking his eyes off of Janus, then ushered him inside. “I interrupted your music the last time you were here, mon Sir Henri.” He looked at the piano, then offered his arm with a hopeful smile. “Would you be willing to show me what you were playing?”

“I would be delighted to.” Janus hadn’t been certain what to expect today. At his last visit, Remus had shocked him by asking him to stay the night. He’d emphasized how much space was available in the palace, so there hadn’t been an explicit invitation to stay overnight with him . However… Janus couldn’t ignore the brush of heat behind every glance, behind even the chastest of touches between them that day.

Nor could he truthfully deny that a small part of him would welcome such an invitation from the prince.

Janus smiled and murmured a quiet thank you when Remus carefully drew out the plush bench and seated him at the piano. The prince’s hand brushed his knee and again he felt a flush crawl up his face. Had he meant to do that? Or was it an accident? His hands trembled against the keys for only a moment before he began to play. He needed a distraction, a way to short circuit these thoughts.

He smiled and took a deep breath, beginning a fast piece by Bach. As he began to play, Remus settled on the bench next to him. The movement of his arms ensured a respectful distance. A few bars in, however, Janus realized he’d thoughtlessly selected a piece for four hands and Remus soon joined in, the twin princes’ musical training evident from their ready accompaniment.

“You play beautifully,” the prince murmured. “Although I think you do everything beautifully.” He winked and crossed their hands over the keys, suddenly playing Janus’ left-hand notes with his own right.

Janus glared for a moment, but couldn’t keep the smile from his face and leaned closer so he could pick up both melodies. “A little rude, don’t you think?” There was no venom behind his words, his smile twitching as he fought to concentrate on the notes and not on the prince’s gentle cologne. He wore far less than most in the court. Even the steward’s perfumed air still lingered in the room, long after he’d gone.

But the prince? Both princes, actually, Janus had observed. Each of the Capetian princes smelled more of spices and… trees. Yew and spruce and hawthorne, like from the topiaries that decorated the gardens outside. He’d thought the royals would abhor the scent, conflating it with the groundskeepers and their manual labor. It was… pleasant.

He missed a note and refocused his attention, finally ending the piece with a riotous—and, somewhat improvised—crescendo. His hands stilled on the keys, a little breathless, arms still crossed with Remus’. The prince turned in his seat, knees sliding over to press gently against Janus’. Remus took Janus’ hand in each of his and pressed a soft kiss against each fingertip, then threaded their fingers together and laid their shared grip softly in his lap.

With his other hand, he reached up and traced a line over the powder-free skin at the edge of Janus’ wig from his temple to just below the top of his collar. “That’s one of my favorite parts of you. Where I can touch the real you underneath all this," Remus whispered, leaning close to his ear. His breath was warm and smelled faintly of coffee and chocolate.

Janus swallowed, his throat gone dry. “Really,” he managed in a calm voice. “I thought it was my fearless wit that caught the attention of our future King.”

Remus chuckled quietly near his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “Oh, it was, mon Sir Henri.” He was now so close that his lips brushed against the shell of Janus’ ear when he spoke. “Your fearlessness, your mind, that sharp tongue…” He traced circles against the side of Janus’ neck and pulled back until they were face to face. The prince’s cheek grazed against his as he moved. “I wonder, mon Sir Henri, does your kiss cut like your words?”

Janus stared up into Remus’ eyes, held motionless by his gaze, the need behind his eyes hot enough to burn. Remus moved closer, their lips a breath apart. In that heat, Janus found the last of his bravado. “Oh, I can promise it does…” He smiled. “But only when I want it to,” he whispered, eyes falling shut as their lips met in a hungry kiss.

He wasted no time parting his lips and brushing his tongue over the prince’s bottom lip. He shivered when Remus immediately granted him entry and with a quiet moan, Janus was lost to their kiss.

~~~

The echoing tones of the tall wooden clock down the hall rang out twice, soon followed by the sound of voices. Remus broke away and laughed quietly, pressing a single finger over Janus’ kiss-swollen lips. “Shh… It’s the Ministers.”

Janus bit back a nervous chuckle before he could compose himself. “Do you always bring your private guests to the wing where the Ministers of State are due to meet?” His eyes were drawn to the door. If they could hear so clearly from within the music room… what had bled through to the room where they were meeting?

And more importantly, did they always meet there?

A flash of sadness moved across the prince’s eyes faster than Janus could react. Nearly as soon as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by a wide grin. “Only the prettiest ones,” he whispered with a wink. He reached into a pocket hidden in the seam of his velvet jacket and produced two golden compacts. “I regret I have marred you rouge, mon douceur.”

“Oh… your sweet?” Janus kept talking in the hopes he could distract Remus’ attention from the flush he felt warming his now thinly-powered cheeks. “Is that my new name, Your Royal Highness?” By the softness in the prince’s smile and his matching blush, Janus knew he’d failed to hide how flustered the nickname had left him.

Remus leaned close and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his lips, gently tasting his mouth. He pulled back and smiled, licking his own lips and humming with pleasure. “It seemed to fit.” His face grew serious at Janus’ continued silence. “If you do not wish—”

Janus flung his arms around the prince’s neck and drew him back in for another kiss. When he finally broke away to breathe, he sat primly in his seat and folded his hands in his lap with a crooked smile. “You were saying my rouge needed repair?”

Remus laughed, certainly loud enough to be heard in the hall and Janus couldn’t hold back a small chuckle he hid behind a gloved hand. “I would be honored to assist you, mon douceur.” He took out a handkerchief and raised it to remove his existing face powder and Janus moved back.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said quickly, turning his face to the left, wondering just how much of his scarring was already showing.

The prince lifted his chin and nodded, warm, knowing eyes meeting his. “Of course. Here,” He opened the powder and patted it onto Janus’ face. ‘You’re right,” he murmured after a few moments, his smile broadening. “This is going on quite well.” He applied a bit more, then turned the compact around, revealing a tiny polished glass mirror inside.

Janus’ jaw dropped and he looked into his reflection, equal parts checking the coverage and admiring the perfect little mirror. “And now the rouge, which… if I may make the observation, a large amount has transferred to your face.’

“Imagine walking through the palace like this,” Remus grinned, shifting as though he intended to get up and take a walkabout around Versailles with Janus’ rouge smeared across his lips and jaw.

“Remus!” he cried, reaching for him with both hands. “Allow me to fix your makeup first!”

“Mon douceur.” The prince stilled, looking down at Janus with wonder in his eyes. “You do know my name.” He slowly sat down, Janus’ hands still gripped in his own. “Will you say it again?”

Janus licked his lips, mouth working for a moment as he fought the impulse to call him Prince Remus, or His Royal Majesty. Or even his teasing ‘Future King.’ He met the prince’s gaze, the warmth inside drawing out the word and urging him to close the distance between them. “Remus,” he murmured, their lips nearly touching.

“Without the piano, you still make music, mon douceur,” he whispered before pulling him into one more kiss.

~~~

“I did…” Remus broke away and then interrupted his own words by drawing Janus in for one more kiss. “I did have something more planned for us today.”

Janus leaned back, eyebrow raised. “Really?” He reached for the powder compact Remus had left on the lid to the piano and began to touch up the prince’s makeup. “And what was that?”

Remus closed his eyes as Janus worked. He smiled at the question and shrugged. “I suppose you will need to come with me to find out.” He opened his eyes and winked, then picked up the rouge compact and started to dab at Janus’ cheeks and lips. “Do you trust me, mon douceur?”

He paused mid-tap, lips slightly parted where Remus was blending the bright red creme to make a smooth line. “Perhaps I do,” he murmured before kissing his fingertips.

“Excellent!” Remus cried and stood up, dabbing a bit of the leftover rouge on his lips and cheeks and secreting away the compacts in some invisible pocket in his jacket. He swung open the door and bowed deeply, one arm extended toward Janus. “Shall we?”

A tentative smile curled up Janus’ lips as he took Remus’ hand. “We shall.”

Hand in hand, they explored the halls of Versailles for at least a half an hour. Janus tried to count doors and turns as they wandered, but was soon hopelessly lost. Remus seemed to know exactly where they were headed, striding purposefully down the halls. The faint scent of spices and yeast and woodsmoke grew the more they walked. The corridors began to narrow, and the ceiling was noticeably lower, as well. Where the floors had once been carpeted, now were only bare stone, and instead of enameled scones, the halls were dimly lit with unadorned torches. With each step, they drew closer to multiple overlapping voices, the only sound besides their footsteps in the otherwise quiet corridor.

Bustling sounds grew louder, revealing the clanking of metal on metal, voices, and the slap of leather soles against stone. They turned a corner and through an archway was a busy kitchen. Two—well-fed—cats lay napping in a corner, and Janus caught a peek just as a servant closed a large, double-doored pantry packed with brightly colored jars and tins, hanging onions and garlic, and what looked like a cured ham covered in waxed paper. Giant pots simmered over fires along one long side, and along the far wall, lit by three windows, stood two people chopping vegetables. The bright sunlight turned one of the kitchen worker’s blond curls into a soft, golden halo.

Remus’ boots clacked against the stone floor and two pairs of eyes looked up from where they'd focused on kneading dough. “Your Royal Highness!” a surprised voice rang out and all other voices and clatter in the kitchen abruptly stopped, the entire room silent save for the crackling fires and the bubbling of what smelled like a stew in the pot nearest them.

A short woman made her way from the back of the room where she'd been overseeing the pair of vegetable choppers. The one with the angelic blond curls turned briefly and met Janus’ eyes with a tiny smile. What was Patton doing here?

The workers in the crowded kitchen parted before the head chef as she bustled over to the interlopers. “Your Royal Highness! We were not expecting you.” Her eyes scanned her staff, nodding when a few surreptitiously straightened aprons or wiped away smudges and spills from their shoes.

“We’re not here to disturb you, Mamie,” Remus murmured with a crooked grin.

Janus stared. Mamie?

“Please do not worry yourself over our presence,” Remus continued before he bent down and spoke quietly near her ear, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet as he did so. The head chef narrowed her eyes but Janus also spotted the hint of a fond smile on her lips. “Tell me…” He gestured with his chin toward a bright silver tray where a pile of fruit, a plate of cakes, and a teapot sat. A bright grin split his face.

“Is that my brother’s tray?”

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aries1144 · 2 years

Text

Bells vs. Time

When Orion woke up, he didn’t expect to see more darkness. His head quickly turned as his hands patted the ground underneath him: it was solid, but certainly wasn’t wood. It was cardboard. He panicked. “Mama?! Papa?!” He was about to call out for his older brother, Midas, next, but he was hushed by the sound of Papa.

He began to speak in a calm, yet slightly shaken, lowered voice. “We’re all here. Stay calm.”

“Don’t tell any of us to stay calm!” Mama whisper-shouted in a stressed tone. “We could all die right here, right now—”

“What?” Orion’s eyes widened.

“Aretha! You’re scaring him.” Papa scolded.

“He should be scared, Atticus! We should all be scared!”

“Jesus Christ…” Papa banged the back of his head against the cardboard wall. He could hear the footsteps of a human bean carrying them around. His wife was breathing heavily. He sat back up and rubbed her back. Orion was quiet as usual, but he could feel that his son was tense like he was. Midas, on the other hand…

“Midas, stop trying to open the box.” Papa heard his attempt to open the box by pushing the cover upwards, but it appeared to be tied with string on the top.

Midas grunted curses under his breath. He angrily sat next to his family. Now the four Bells were sitting in the corner of the box. They were all silent. Everyone was frustrated—terrified for what was to come. The sounds of the human’s footsteps echoed throughout the box until they came to a sudden stop. There was an unraveling noise up top: the knot was being untied!

The family huddled closer together. Midas and Orion were next to Papa and Mama. They all held protective hands over each other. Their pale skin turned pure white as they heard a man call out, “Whitney, come have a look!” With more footsteps to follow. Great. More humans.

Papa’s eyes shifted to his left and right. “Whatever happens, don’t speak.”

Only seconds afterwards the cover was lifted as the borrowers flinched, and watched two elderly humans study them with curious and adoring eyes.

There was a wrinkly old woman with bouncy, blonde curls. She wore bright red lipstick, and had long, batted eyelashes. She gushed when she saw the little family for the first time. “Oh Simon~ Look at their little faces! They’ve hair, hands, and—oh! Tiny clothesl.” She glanced over to her husband. “Ah—what are they called?” She immediately looked back to the family with a finger wave and a clear, white smile.

“Borrowers, she calls them.” Said Simon. A plump bald man with wide eyes. “But I’d call them a gold mine.” He tilted his head a bit to toy with them, rubbing his fingers over his gray beard.

She. Who was She? The only person they could think of was the woman who had done something similar to Mama’s sister, but she had been long gone. Unless she had written about the little people in her will. Then…oh dear.

Whitney’s blinding smile came inches closer to the borrowers. She made eye contact with the littlest one: Orion. She gushed. “Look at his little face! What a cutie.”

“Would you like a closer look?” Simon asked. His index finger and thumb neared him. Orion let out a small squeak with his shoulders raising to his ears. He began to breathe quickly. Midas and his parents put protective arms over him. If he was going to be “admired” they all would.

Whitney pulled Simon’s hand back. “Don’t touch it. It might have something.” She then did a circular motion over the entire family. “And they all look ready to bite you. Wouldn’t want my dearest Simon getting infected by a pest~”

“Oh Whitney~”

They began to nose kiss. Mama squinted her eyes at this. Papa kept a neutral face. And the sons were utterly disgusted to say the least. Calling them pests? Saying they had germs?! They’d never felt more dehumanized in their lives!

“Now, let’s think for the proportions of the cage—”

“House, Simon.” She gave him a side eye with a forced smile.

"House! It should be around three feet, you think? Oh! With laminated glass around it all.” He squinted his eyes at all of them. “So they don’t do their little borrowings, or try to break through."

“And to keep an eye on them.”

“True.”

Whitney turned her giddy eyes to the two boys. Midas and Orion sucked in a breath. “If they were little girls, we could dress them up as fairies for the children." She sighed. “I suppose elves will do.”

“Who says we can’t do fairies?” Simon shrugged. “More ticket sales.”

“Oh, for me?” Whitney gushed. “Si—”

“ENOUGH!”

Simon and Whitney looked down at the box with slight surprise. English. Coming from such small creatures? It was feminine voice. It could only come from the woman!

“Aretha…!” Papa whispered.

“How dare you try to exploit my boys for your own benefit!” She pointed at the humans with narrowed eyes.

“Mom!” Midas reached over and tried to keep her arms down. “Please stop.”

She ignored him. “My babies are not for your kind’s entertainment, y’know? Do you have no shame? I hear your name is Simon—it’s in the holiest of books—yet you choose to act in such evil behavior! And we are very clean. Probably cleaner than you two…behemoth’s!"

The men of the family were silent. Every word she had said was right, but she broke one of her own morals in the process: talking to a bean. Her enraged face softened as she realized this. Her lips quivered as she fell onto her husband’s shoulder. “I don’t want it to end like this!” She whimpered. Orion leaned in with Midas to comfort her. Her husband rubbed her shoulder.

This amused Simon and Whitney. They were glued to the way she could speak like a human, and how the boys were caring for her. Anyone else would have sympathized, but these two?

“Wow. She’d make a great story teller for the children.” Simon’s eyes widened. “I mean—the fairy ‘princesses,’ the elf king, and the fairy queen!”

“Ah!” Whitney smiled. “I’ll make them all wonderful costumes—bright so the audience can see them. And tiny wings too!”

“Mm…I suppose I should start working on the cage—er—house!”

She glanced over at her husband. “How long do you reckon that’d take you.”

“Oh. I’d say by the time we open.”

“Three days?”

“Mhm.” He lifted three fingers up for the borrowers. Even though Aretha had just yelled at him, he still believed their brains were too small to comprehend numbers. “That’s one, two, and three.” He said slowly. “Whitney, put the food down for our guest. Can’t have whiny tiny people, can we?”

“Ooh! I’m so excited.” She squealed. She placed a tray of food down for the borrowers besides the box. “Three days, remember? You will love your new home.” She let out a yawn. “I’m getting a bit tired.”

“Best if we both get some sleep.” Simon nodded. He turned to the family. “And best if you eat some food. It’s healthy. Good for you.” He gave a cheeky smile.

“Tata!” Whitney waved off as the two humans left the attic, without a care in the world. Only concerned for their profit off of their new found little folk.

#g/t writing #g/t #sfw g/t #borrowers #writing #part 2? maybe #AHHHHHHHHH #based off the return of the borrowers clip #BWAAAAAAAAAAA

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pokeglitchden · 3 months

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[Musharna mail! A nightmare meant for @cooper-magnolia but sent to the wrong person! A nightmare! Warning for themes of death, murder, self blame, being trapped, running away, abuse, fear of being hated by your friends.

A figure is bleeding out on a clean tile floor. As You gets closer, you notice it's a close friend of yours. A man with 6 arms and grey hair. He's been sliced right down the middle. Tears fall from your eyes and you try to cry out for help but it comes out as nothing more than a strained whisper. You rustle through your bag, but you don't find anything useful. You look around the empty space, feeling helpless. But all you see is the figure of a man carrying a katana walking away in the distance. You get up, attempting to scream out at him, still unable to make any sound above a hoarse whisper. You start to run after him, to confront this strange man, but it's like trying to run in molasses. You trip and fall through the ground, and on the other side you see a boy with long hair, going from white into pink to red, with fox ears and strange markings on his face, sitting on the ground clutching at his eye, blood and tears streaming down his face. You try to help him, but he yells at you to go, saying you've already hurt him enough. Confused, you look down at your hands.

They're soaked in blood.

You shuts your eyes tight, sobbing. When you open them, you're fourteen again, staring a middle-aged woman with a bun so tight it looks like she painted her hair onto her head if you squint down while she shouts and screams at you. About how she's given you so much and you've given her so little and yet you're so ungreatful. You run to the front door, an 8yo girl with short brown hair wearing a hockey uniform and a 4yo with a burn scar following behind you, before you smack face first into a clear wall. You're trapped in a glass box. Everything around you starts to dissolve, until you're floating in empty space in this box, sobbing and banging on the glass.

And images of friends start to form. And in voices louder than their own they tell you how much they hate you. How awful of a person you are, and how all the bad things that have been happening are your fault and your fault alone. You should have done more. You should have been better. Why couldn't you just fix things. The images start to melt, screaming in agony begging for you to help them. But you're trapped in the box. When the last image is gone, a new landscape starts to form around you. The distortion world. A figure approaches you. Their face seems to change, shifting to look like different people. It speaks to you, after settling on the face of the boy with the fox ears.

"You are going to spend the rest of your time in here. You deserve it. We thought you would help us, but you failed us. You could have been good enough, you could have avoided so much damage. But you didn't care. You deserve to rot."]

Ok!

So THAT didn't work.

Either that or the impacts of it being a musharna mail nightmare may have bypassed all methods entirely...

Ah... was that Orion at the beginning???? And I think I saw Atlas. Definitely much more abstract than the dreams I usually have. But the part that was really frightening.

The distortion world...

I may have awoken for a few minutes today unsure if I was really ...

Anyway, that doesn't matter. I'm here. It's fine.

Maybe I am going to have to do something about these nightmares after all.

-Simon

#glitch pkmn irl #pkmn irl #tw unreality

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foreignerabroad1994 · 11 months

Text

Stars: Short Story Writing Prompt

My response to u/PROMETHEUS-one's prompt on the r/WritingPrompt subreddit to the following prompt:

"The first time humanity learned about extraterrestrial life was when distant stars slowly began to disappear from our nighttime sky."

"Hey, Tobes," Ben nudges him in the ribs a bit too hard. "Teach me about the stars again."

Toby sighs and turns to his friend. They're, once again, plastered on the roof of a rusting old car, not far from the edge of the family's farm grazing pastures. The one true piece of entertainment in this remote little hole of a farming town, in Toby's opinion, has always been the sprawling night sky, littered with constellations. Before Ben moved to their town and suctioned himself to his side like a chubby octopus, he used to come here alone every night with his book about the stars, and find them above, abandoning his telescope to try to feel like a true, old astronomer.

Well, it wasn't his book, but the library hasn't called yet with any fees, so he liked to pretend he'd return it one day.

"You always forget everything I teach you."

Ben huffs. "I'll remember this time! Maybe teach me an easy one."

"I don't think any of them are easy ones for you."

"Hey!" Ben protests. "That's not true! I remember plenty!"

Toby smiles up at the sky, casually tracing the edges of Orion. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Like what?"

Silence. Toby holds in a snort of laughter.

"Fine! Don't tell me!"

A pang of guilt hits Toby, and he sighs, more so at himself. "Let's find Cassiopeia then, yeah?"

Ben seems to bristle in excitement, his ire easily forgotten.

Toby points up, taking Ben's short hand with him to make sure he really sees what Toby means. "See this star over there? There, next to that. See that 'W' shape there? Thats'-"

Toby stops, drops Ben's hand, and frowns. Something is off. He knows, for a fact, that's where Cassiopeia is. He could find the five bright stars that make up each point of its shape with ease. But today, one star is clearly missing. He scans the sky, confused, sitting up as if it would bring him closer.

"What is it?" Ben whispers, seeming to sense something serious is on Toby's mind.

"One of the stars is missing."

Ben blinks at him, but he barely registers his dumbfounded expression before he looks up again, already searching for other constellations, confused.

"It can't be right..." Toby mumbles to himself, wishing he had his book with him to confirm, but he'd left it at home tonight. He scrambles off the car, scraping his palms.

"Tobes, what are you-"

"Go home, Ben, I'll meet you tomorrow. I just... remembered something, okay?"

"But Tobes-"

He stops and turns to Ben, his eyes pleading, "please, Ben. Tomorrow."

Ben swallows but nods silently, and Toby sprints back home. He barely registers his sister's shout when he nearly topples her on the way up the stairs, grabbing the book from his room in a rush as he keeps running up. Climbing up into the attic, he clambers out of the narrow window onto the roof, where his rickety old telescope waits.

He adjusts the telescope, his book open on Cassiopeia, and looks closer.

There's no mistaking it. The beautiful, glowing constellation is missing one of its five brightest stars. But that can't be right.

He spends the night searching the sky, confused, for hours. His mother eventually forces him in and into bed, but he tosses and turns.

At school, Toby is restless. His bouncing knees make his classmates frown or huff at him all day, and his teachers seem to target him for his restlessness. He tries his hardest to pay the small anomaly no mind - surely this would show up in the news, or maybe the stars just weren't as visible. There must be an explanation.

He drags Ben with him to the rooftop the next evening, scooting to place his friend in position. "Do you see the same shape as here?" He points to the clear image depicting Cassiopeia, before pointing at the telescope.

Ben looks at him with a frown before peering into the telescope. He does it several times.

"No, Tobes, I don't. Are you sure it's the right position? Maybe-"

"No, it is... I-"

As if a god clapped once in the night sky, a deep, resonant thud falls on their shoulders from the dark, starry sky, like a blanket of force, nearly knocking them off the roof.

"Oh, fuck, my telescope-"

"Tobes..."

"What the hell was that? Maybe the military-"

"Tobes."

"I can't afford another one, damn it-"

"Tobes!"

Toby snaps his head up from his telescope, and notices Ben pointing up. He looks, and feels his heart drop. One by one, like scattered fairy lights turning off, glowing stars disappear, as if in a blink, from the night sky. It is much too fast, happening all at once, to be anything but trouble.

"Tobes, I don't think this is good."

Toby hears muttered, panicked voices through the downstairs open patio. A news broadcast murmurs in the background. He hears his dad step outside, seeing him standing below them and looking up at the sky, his jaw unhinged.

"No, Ben." He says. "This isn't good."

Toby and Ben, it turns out, were right.

#fiction writing #short stories #writingprompts #creative writing #short fiction #writing community #short story #writing practice #writing prompt #fiction #cosmic horror #horror stories #horror #writing scifi

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engie-ivy · 3 years

Text

Orion Black offers Remus more money than he could've dreamed of. The only condition? Stay away from his son.

(This got way fluffier than I anticipated towards the end)

A slow smile spreads across Orion Black’s face as he writes something down on a piece of paper, and slides it over the broad, wooden desk towards Remus. “Read the number on that paper,” he says confidently. “And tell me again how much you love him.”

To Put a Price On Love

“How much?”

Remus hardly dares to move under the intensity of Orion Black’s scrutinizing gaze. The man is sitting behind his polished wooden writing desk, one large hand holding a pen hovering above some sort of notebook.

Remus is visiting the Black Manor for a couple of days, finally meeting his boyfriend’s family. Much to Remus’ dismay, his boyfriend had been reluctant to take him home, but after some insisting on Remus’ part, he finally agreed. After the first day of staying at the posh manor, Remus had changed his goal of making his boyfriend’s parents like him, to making his boyfriend’s parents not kill him in his sleep.

Orion and Walburga Black are stiff, formal and standoffish people. Their noses are constantly scrunched up in distaste, and their lips pressed in a thin line. They hardly say a word to Remus, and Remus hasn’t once seen them smile. He honestly can’t even imagine it. Where his boyfriend’s silver grey eyes are bright and sparkling with vibrant energy, Walburga Black’s eyes are cold and empty, while Orion Black’s gaze is hard as steel.

That gaze is now intently fixed on Remus, and Remus feels like he’s being weighed and found wanting.

To say he was wary when Orion Black suddenly placed a large hand on his shoulder and asked him, no, commanded him, to come to his study, would be an understatement.

“Ex- excuse me?” Remus stammers.

“What amount do I need to write down to get you to stay away from my son?” Orion Black says slowly.

Remus glances down at the notebook, that he sees is, indeed, a check book, and back up at Orion Black’s face. “I... I think there’s some kind of misunderstanding.”

“I’ve been here before, Lupin, was it?” Orion Black says, with a hint of impatience in his voice. “Everyone has a price, so why don’t you save us both the time, and tell me yours?”

“That’s not... I’m not...” Remus sputters. “I love your son!”

Orion Black smiles wryly at him. “So did many of the others. But as the number got higher, they realised they didn’t love him quite so much after all.”

Remus feels a wave of anger course through his body. He hasn’t even told Sirius he loves him yet. How dare this man just brush off his feelings like that!

“Look,” Remus says. “If you don’t approve of me for your son, then I suppose there’s little I can do about that, but you cannot make a situation go your way just by throwing some money at it!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, boy,” Orion Black says sharply. “Let me give you a free lesson here. There’s nothing money can’t buy, as long as you have enough of it. As the amount I’m offering increases, this so-called ‘love’ will decrease. You don’t have to like it, but that’s just how the world works.”

“Why is it worth so much to you?” Remus asks. “Have I somehow offended you?”

Orion Black lets out a humourless laugh, that doesn’t make his eyes look any less like ice cold steel. “Believe me, boy. If you had offended me, I would’ve used a different way than paying you to get rid of you.”

It’s a threat, and a barely veiled one. Remus feels a chill creep up his spine.

“No,” Orion Black continues undisturbed. “It has nothing to do with you personally.” He sighs. “If Sirius wants to be rebellious and... have relations with the occasional boy, then so be it, but I’ll make sure his provocative behaviour won’t go too far by timely dissolving these delusional attachments. Whatever Sirius has to get out of his system, in the end he shall marry Druella Rosier, as has been promised.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Remus exclaims. “You’d bully your son into a marriage that’ll make him miserable?” Remus shakes his head. “I want no part in this.”

Remus glances down at the paper, and gasps.

“So, how much did he offer you?”

Sirius is standing in the doorway of the guestroom, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest. He’s watching Remus pack his bags with an expressionless face.

Remus doesn’t look up from his attempt to stuff his jumpers in the bag. “Hundred thousand.”

Sirius whistles through his teeth. “That’s a new record! What did you do? Did you tell him you love me? That always seems to drive up the price a bit.”

“I did,” Remus replies flatly, still not looking up from his packing.

“Fabian did too, but still, he only managed to get to sixty thousand,” Sirius says. “Gilderoy tried to play the ‘but I love him!’-card, but he was so insincere, even my father wasn’t fooled.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “I guess you don’t have much of a negotiating position when your eyes light up with greed the moment you see a check book. Caradoc never claimed to love me. I think I preferred that most,” he adds pensively. “He never pretended we were something we weren’t. Just took the money and left. But then again, I don’t think he even got to twenty thousand,” he finishes with a shrug.

Remus just looks at him for a while, before turning back to his packing.

Sirius follows his movements. “Hey, that’s mine!” He exclaims when Remus picks up a leather jacket and puts it in one of the bags. When Remus doesn’t respond and proceeds to fold up Sirius’ old band t-shirts, Sirius grabs his arm, forcing Remus to look at him. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m leaving!” Remus shouts angrily. “And I’m taking you with me! I won’t allow you to stay with these people who won’t let you be who you are, and who think they can force you into a marriage you don’t want by bribing the people you care about to abandon you!” He takes a deep breath. “Besides,” he adds dryly. “I doubt your father will let me stay in his house after telling him to shove his check book up his arse.”

“But why would you...” Sirius shakes his head. “What’s going on, Remus? Please, I need you to explain.”

Remus’ expression softens upon seeing Sirius’ wide eyes, filled with a mixture of hope and disbelief. “I didn’t take his money, Sirius,” Remus says softly. “I meant it when I told him I love you, and no amount of money will be worth losing you over.”

Sirius’ eyes frantically search Remus’ face, and he seems to find some sort of confirmation there, because the next moment, he flings himself at Remus. He clutches to him and presses his face in his hair. “I wanted to believe... I wanted to trust... I wanted to think that you’d never.. But I’ve been disappointed so many times before. I started to think I just wasn’t...”

“You’re worth it, Sirius,” Remus whispers. “You’re worth a thousand times more than any amount of money. They’re all idiots. Everyone who chose money over you. And you know what? I’m glad for it, because now I get to have you.”

“You have me, Remus. You do.” Sirius pulls away slightly, so he can look Remus in the eyes, while tears are shining on his cheeks.

Remus brushes the tears away with his thumb and smiles. “So, are you ready to leave your luxurious manor with servants on your beck and call, to come live with me in a cramped flat with no idea how we’re going to pay rent next month?”

Sirius smiles back. “I’ve never been more ready for anything.”

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #orion black #the most ancient and noble house of black

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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i feel like you write really good arguments, as a few people have brought up before, where the parties make mistakes but own up to them and acknowledge the other side. Same thing with Captain Sirius- his reprimands are always respectful. It feels mature and just well-thought out. But we know Sirius wasn't always like that, because he came to dumo's house knowing arguments=violence. Would you write a fic where Sirius learns how to argue/captain? maybe from Dumo-the-parent? Does that make sense?

Father-son bonding on this fine Thursday! I love it! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

Dumo’s phone rang halfway through his lunch, which wasn’t unusual, except for the fact that it was Sirius calling and not…well, literally anyone else. Sirius seemed rather allergic to his phone—text replies often went unanswered for an average of 3 hours, and he wasn’t sure he had ever managed to reach Sirius on the first ring. Concern flickered in his chest and he lifted it to his ear.

“H—”

“Oh, thank god,” Sirius said, breathless. “Hi, hello, it’s me—uh, it’s Sirius—and I was just calling to ask for some help because I’m the captain now—you know that, what am I doing—and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do and I’m kind of—”

“Sirius,” Dumo interrupted as soon as his astonishment faded. He had never heard Sirius say so many words in so little time. Silence fell on the other end of the line. “Sirius, are you still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Okay, take a deep breath, then tell me what you need.”

Another beat of quiet passed. “So, I’m the captain now.”

“You are.”

“And the guys really like you, but I don’t even know where to start, so I was hoping you could give me a hand with this.”

“With what?”

“How do I make people like me?” Sirius asked, sounding uncharacteristically timid.

Dumo paused, confused. “They already do.”

“But I’m the captain now. They have to like me more, right?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, torn between laughing and laying down to stave off a headache. “Why don’t you come over and we can talk in person, alright?”

“Right.” Sirius cleared his throat. “Right, yeah, about that.”

“Sirius. Are you—are you currently on my porch?”

“…maybe.” Dumo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It’s kind of cold out here.”

“You have a key.”

“I thought it would be rude to just let myself in.”

“Oh my god,” Dumo muttered, rising from his chair with a huff. The autumn wind howled as he opened the front door, stripping the trees of their leaves and turning Sirius’ cheeks vivid red as he stood on the top step with the phone still at his ear and anxiety written all over his face.

“Bonjour.”

“You can hang up the phone now.”

Sirius bit his lip and slid it back into his pocket, waiting awkwardly until Dumo motioned him inside and he hurried out of the chill. “Thanks for picking up, by the way.”

“Of course. I’ll always pick up the phone for you.” He guided him toward the kitchen with a hand on his shoulder. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

Still so polite. The coffeepot was still warm from Celeste’s late breakfast, and Sirius’ eyes grew wide at the steam curling off the top when Dumo handed him a mug to wrap his frozen hands around before sitting across from him. “Back to business. Number one: the team already likes you, and you need no help from me getting their approval. Got it?”

Sirius nodded and took a sip.

“Number two: If you ever need my help, please don’t wait on the front porch in freezing weather when you could just knock.” A sheepish smile twitched at the side of his mouth and Dumo shook his head. “I won’t be responsible for your hypothermia. Now, what did you want advice about?”

Sirius let out a slow breath. “I don’t want to be the hardass captain that everyone hates. I just—this is an amazing opportunity, but honestly I just want my friends.”

Dumo hummed, even as his heart panged. “At the risk of sounding vague, the way to do that is to not be a hardass in the first place. Be a leader instead.”

“But I have to tell them what to do—”

“—and a leader does that the right way. There’s a difference between being a leader and being a tyrant. Push them to be better, but don’t be cruel about it. Set an example through the things you do, not the things you make other people do.” He touched the back of his hand gently and Sirius’ eyes flickered over. “Don’t lead through fear, but through respect.”

“I don’t know how.”

“That’s why you called me, non?” He waited until he saw the small smile return. “Alright, how would you approach a situation where one of your teammates is lagging behind in their speed trials?”

Sirius blinked. “Tell them to do better?”

Different tactic. “How did your coaches talk to you when you lagged behind in your speed trials?”

“…told me to do better.”

Orion Black, I will break your kneecaps the next time I see you. Dumo poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “That may have been a strategy for you, but for someone who is already trying their best, it could be very discouraging. They might resent you for trying to seem better than them.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed. “But I’m not.”

“I know. But they wouldn’t. In my opinion, the best course of action would be to ask what’s wrong, and how you can help. It might not get better overnight, but that teammate will trust that you can help them with their problem and will know that you care about them.”

“So I should just let them fail for a while?”

“You push them toward success gradually, and don’t berate them for any hiccups along the way. Failure can bring growth.”

His mouth set into a line of frustration. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m not explaining this right,” Dumo muttered, chewing the inside of his lip. How to explain to the new leader of your team what leadership is... “Let’s put it this way. You want Pots and Harzy to run a specific play, but they don’t understand it. How do you fix it?”

Sirius started to answer, then closed his mouth and thought for a moment, staring into the depths of his coffee. “I…I would walk them through it section by section, because I know they’re smart, but they might have problems with different parts.”

Dumo wondered if the room had actually become brighter, or if the pride in his heart was just shining through into the real world. “Exactly. And afterward, when they get it right?”

“High-five and run it again.”

“Now you’re getting it!” Something more difficult... “What if Kuny and Nado won’t shut up during Coach’s breakdown?”

“Tell them to be quiet.”

“But then Nado calls you a buzzkill and starts whispering to Kuny, and giving you looks.” Sirius’ whole face fell; if Dumo wasn’t so committed to making sure he got it right, he would’ve felt bad. “What do you do, Sirius?”

“Apolo—”

“No. People don’t respect those who apologize every time they face pushback.”

“But you said I need them to like me.”

“You need them to respect you. They don’t have to like you at all hours of the day.” He poked him lightly on the chest. “It’s your job to keep the team in line, now, and that means being a bit of a buzzkill sometimes. Not an asshole. Just a leader. What do you do if they start whispering about you?”

Sirius scrunched his nose. “Tell them to cut it out again,” he said grudgingly.

“And if they don’t?”

“Can I make them run laps after the meeting?”

“Yep. How many?”

“Three, because I had to ask three times.” He frowned. “And they should run at separate times, otherwise they’ll keep talking. God, they really don’t shut up, do they?”

That’s rich coming from you, Mr.-Chats-with-Pots-24/7. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself—that wasn’t what today was about. “Good job, Sirius.”

“Really?”

“Oui. If you lay down the rules early, you won’t have to keep correcting mistakes. They won’t want to disappoint you in the first place.”

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” he said quietly.

“You won’t.” If there was one thing Dumo was sure of, it was that Sirius would be the best captain the Lions ever had. “Ready for the toughest part?”

“Yes?”

“Are you ready?” he asked again.

Sirius swallowed, then nodded. “Yes.”

“I don’t like the way you’re captaining this team.”

From the look on his face, Dumo might as well have whacked him over the head with a spatula. “What?”

“I don’t think you have the guts.”

A combination of hurt and anger flashed in his eyes. “Hey!”

Dumo prodded him on the shoulder. “You’re not going to be able to stick up for yourself when it comes down to it. You can’t say no to your friends.”

“I can!”

“Then do it,” he challenged. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re—” Sirius pressed his lips together and stood up. “Fuck you. I came to you for help—”

Dumo rose as well, leaning forward half an inch. “Then tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you can captain the shit out of this team.”

“You’re wrong!”

“Say it like you mean it!”

“You’re wrong!” Sirius repeated as his jaw set, louder. “I’m going to captain the shit out of this team and fuck you for thinking I can’t!”

“But I don’t like it!” Though they were both shouting at each other, Sirius’ defensiveness and timidity in the face of conflict were nowhere to be found.

“That’s not my problem!” His cheeks were turning pink again, but not from the cold. “I’m the captain, so you either listen to me or tell me what the hell your problem is!”

“There you go!” Dumo cheered, stepping around the table to crush him in a hug. “That was perfect.”

Sirius went still with befuddlement. “What?”

“You didn’t believe you could captain this team until just now, did you?” He stepped back and held Sirius’ shoulders, beaming. “You just did exactly what you were supposed to do. You cannot let yourself be pushed around if you want to lead and keep your friendships strong. I am so, so proud of you.”

Sirius stared at him in shock for a moment, then moved forward again and rested his chin on Dumo’s shoulder as he pulled him in for another hug. “Thank you.”

“You are going to do great things, Sirius. I’m just glad I could help.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Dumo smiled and patted his back, giving him a squeeze. “Yes, you could. That’s how I know you will.”

#sirius black #pascal dumais #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #captain lessons #dumo

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naps-and-lemons · 3 years

Text

what a waste of a monologue... (t.m.r.)

college is supposed to be the time of your life but here i am balding over graph limits. how am i supposed to live laugh love in these conditions? anyway yes, anotha one. it’s 2 am where i live so very unedited.

shout out to @stxrsworld for being so sweet and cash money 💕

warning: underage students drinking oooh 📞👮

timeline: takes place after joe mumma but before kobe. tom x reader.

“I am a woman. Not an object, not a prize, not a possession that you can just demand to have. I have a personality, interests… For example, I like to chef it up with the house elves late at night once in a while. Did you know that? No, you didn’t because you don’t respect girls enough to get to know them. Merlin, you don’t even have the decency to accept my no for an answer…and calling me names?” You put your hand over you chest and stared in disbelief. “I wonder how your mother feels to have pushed such a foul, evil, loathsome little cockroach out of her poompoom? I know, I know, a crude thing to say, but I tried to be the nice guy, buddy. But you made me like this, Rosier…a monster…” you look away shamefully.

“And scene…how was that Katy Purry?” You breathe out. The fat cat meow’d and jumped onto your bed, signaling you to go to sleep. You frowned, glancing at your door where you can hear the muffled music from the common room party.

But sleep was the last thing on your mind, and Katy probably knew that. You were still in your robes and you were far too anxious for retirement.

“I’m going to do it. Tonight is the time.”

Finding out Rosier waited for you outside of Potions last week freaked you out to say the least. You wouldnt think you would say this, but thank Slughorn and his detention. Better yet, thank Tom Riddle for covering your sorry behind for reasons that have yet to become clear. Since then, it seemed like you’ve been seeing the Prefect more often, in the halls that is. More of him and less of Rosier. But the all brawns no brain quidditch player still shot his shot whenever he had the chance.

“I say we do arithmetics back in my dorm. Add a bed, divide the legs, and we can multiplyyy…” the brunette whispered in your ear, just loud enough for Orion and Mulciber snickered.

But you blocked every time.

You rolled your eyes and stopped writing.

“What about subtraction? Because I’d be more than happy to cut off your-“

Yeah, you were a baddie at defense, but it still bothered you on the inside. What started as annoyance grew into exhaustion to the point where you didn’t even want to deal with him. Hence why you used Riddle as a shield that one evening. But having to get other people involved was the last straw.

“(Y/n)…glad you could make it…” your roommate Nancy slurred. You held you breath at the fire whiskey and vomit smell that fanned your face.

“Actually I’m-“

“Nance we’re supposed to be sticking together. Hey (y/n), don’t drink the punch she puked in it,” her friend smiles, guiding the giggling redhead away.

Your stomach turned in instant regret. The flashing lights in the dark, the loud music, and smell of alcohol and sweaty pubescents made you dizzy. Your mission rerouted to finding a place to sit.

The sofas around the fireplace were pretty much empty but clearly occupied. Robes and purses were thrown all over. But it would have to do for now.

You made your way to the far corner of the long couch. The moment you sat down you jumped up as if it were hot coals, grabbing your behind.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t see you—Tom?!” Your eyes bulged out of your skull and suddenly embarrassment began to creep onto your face.

Thank the stars the lack of lighting hid your red face, one thing it was good for.

He rubbed his eyes and covered his yawn, but soon sobered, his eyes widening and long limbs sprawling across the couch in panic.

“What in the—(y/l/n)?” He looked at you confused, before looking at his surroundings. Last thing he remembered was his corridor rounds.

Two hours earlier.

Avery ran to Tom’s now sleeping form, picking up the arms of his limp body. “You’re so going to kill me if you find out.”

“He won’t,” Rosier tucked his wand into his pocket. “Now bring him to his dormitory and go get the punch. And make sure its the red one not the blue one,” he demands, “the blue one made my tummy hurt last time…”

Avery dragged Tom’s 6 foot self to the common room before propping him onto the couch to catch his breath.

“Hey Avery,” Nott called out. “Pumpkin Pasty?” He offered holding out a platter.

Avery dropped Tom’s arm carelessly. “Ooh don’t mind if I do,” he walked over, wiggling his fingers before picking one.

“Those idiots,” he mumbled angrily. Tom was equally angry as he was embarrassed. How could he let his guard down to have himself bewitched to fall asleep? Not gonna lie though it was a nice nap considering the lack of sleep due to final exams and Tom’s obsession over perfection.

“What are you doing here? You’re not social.” He turned his attention back to you.

“Uh wh-wh… excuse me?” You stuttered, offended.

Now fully conscious and aware, Tom decided it was better to seek his revenge on Rosier, the only Slytherin with such audacity, later on. He was a patient man.

Tom quirked an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms as he sat back into his seat.

“Yeah you’re right. Actually, I’m looking for Rotisserie,” you admit. Tom thought about who you could possibly be talking about before the switch turned on in his brain. A frown followed.

“I’m confronting him,” you respond as if reading his mind. His face relaxed and you could be mistakened, but was that a sigh of relief?

“Yeah you see, I got a head ache the moment I got in here because my friend—who also threw up in the punch, yeah don’t drink the punch—her breath was kick-in!. So I went to find a seat but it was really dark and you’re in grey, so I went..”Tom’s face of amusement went into surprised as you reenacted sitting in his lap, but not sitting down all the way before turning back around to continue your story, “but then you were there so I was like ahhhh then you woke and were like ahhhh….so yeah”

Tom stared at you blankly, but in his mind he was like man this bitch is weird. His eyes moved to behind you.

“Speaking of…” you turned around to follow his gaze.

the devil…

You rolled your shoulder back and took a deep breath.

Its game time.

He was slightly tipsy, stumbling a little as he chatted with Lestrange. They parted ways and you opened your mouth to start your speech.

“I am a wo-“

“Stop talking.” Riddle instructs.

“Wha-“ You feel a pair of hands go to your waist, pulling you down. Rosier’s shocked expression beat yours.

“What is this?” He looked at you two disturbed. Before you could even shift out of discomfort, Tom’s grip tightened.

“What does it look like?” Your human chair responded.

“Let’s get you another drink,” Lestrange returns, grabbing his shoulder to turn away. He manually shuts Rosier’s dropped jaw, sending you a wink before walking off. “wouldn’t wanna catch flies…”

“That was…quick thinking….”you say mindlessly, still processing what just happened. What a waste of a monologue…

“You can let go now,” you turn to Tom who was asleep?

You moved to get up only for him to pull you into his chest, making you let out a yelp. What has gotten into this man child?

“Stop moving,” he mumbles with his eyes still closed.

“Riddle, what are you doing?” You lift your head up to look at him.

“You owe me.” You scoffed.

“I don’t owe any man-“ he tucks your face into his shoulder, patting your hair, shushing you as he does so.

“sleep.” Tom says drunkily.

perhaps the side effects of the sleeping spell have yet to wear off.

#harry potter #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #so not cannon #tom riddle imagine #rosier #chad rosier #tom being affectionate what???

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