#PHOENIX: ashes and broken glass

[amaris-whisperer]

MOONFIRE l Aemond Targaryen x Reader (EP.1)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen and OC

Episode I – “The Flame That Sleeps” In the land where prophecy breathes, fire sleeps beneath the moon.

--

Rhaelyria was a forgotten dream stitched into the fabric of the world—a land obscured from Westerosi maps, shielded by ocean mists and ancient magicks. It rose from the Sea of Sighs like a cathedral of stone and starlight, sculpted by time and fire into a kingdom both terrifying and beautiful.

Jagged volcanic cliffs encircled the island like the teeth of a buried god. The forests glowed silver at night, leaves dusted with phosphorescent moon-flame. Beneath it all, at the edge of the world, stood Aerith Myr, the ancestral seat of House Rivendale—hewn into the side of a crescent mountain. Blackstone towers jutted from the cliffs, their spires crowned with glowing glass orbs that pulsed like stars.

Aerith Myr was more than a fortress. It was a sanctum, alive with whispers and warded flame.

Deep within the highest tower, in a chamber veiled by moonlace and obsidian screens, Lady Emberyn Rivendale twisted in sleep.

The fire in the wall crackled with pale silver flame—the Wyrmfire, said to burn from the breath of a dragon long dead but never truly gone. Shadows moved across the ceiling like wings.

Her bed was a sculpted shell of smooth dark stone, dressed in cascading silks the color of starlit sapphire. Her limbs were tangled in the sheets, her brow damp, her mouth parted as she breathed in fits and starts.

And then—stillness.

The dream took her.

Ash rained like snow from a sky choked in smoke.

The world was dead.

Emberyn stood barefoot in a plain of ruin, cloaked in a gown of midnight shadow. Her bare feet touched black sand and broken bones. Wind tore at her hair, and the air smelled of iron and burnt scale.

Before her, a colossal dragon lay dying—its wings shredded, its flesh half melted from its bones. It shuddered once, let out a final rattling cry, then fell still.

From the fog, he came.

A man in dark armor, faceless at first. Then—silver hair caught the wind. One eye. The other, a gleaming blue sapphire pulsing with cruel fire.

He did not speak. He did not reach for her.

He simply watched her, as if seeing something he had been chasing through lifetimes.

The earth cracked behind him. Something monstrous stirred beneath the ash.

Emberyn gasped awake, choking on air that wasn’t smoke.

She sat upright in her bed, clutching the sheets, her heart wild in her chest. The room was cold despite the ever-burning Wyrmfire. The silver lanterns cast shifting shadows across the walls, and outside, she could hear the distant thunder of wings.

Her dragon—Valaeryn—was restless.

She rose in silence, her feet bare against the warm stone floor, her nightgown trailing behind her like mist. Her hair, silver-white with strands of faint opal, hung unbound down her back, glowing softly in the firelight.

She approached the arched window carved in the shape of a phoenix wing and stared into the Sea of Sighs. The fog beyond the cliffs was dense—Moonfire Fog, laced with ancient spells. No ordinary ship could pass through it without losing itself forever.

But tonight, the mist stirred.

Something moved through it.

A dragon.

He is coming.

That evening, Aerith Myr prepared for guests.

The high halls were warmed with flickering blue flame, casting strange reflections on the polished obsidian floors. Veins of silver ran like rivers through the black stone, pulsing faintly—Rhaelyrian enchantments that had never dimmed.

Emberyn stood at the Flame Mirror, a long reflecting pool set at the heart of the castle, where moonlight gathered like liquid mercury. Her reflection was a ghost—tall, cold, celestial.

She wore a gown of layered nightglass, the bodice embroidered with starlight runes and phoenix wings. A silver circlet rested on her brow, shaped like two curling dragon horns. Her arms, pale and bare, shimmered faintly under the torchlight. Around her neck, she wore the Moon-Tear, a blue opal crystal said to be the last gift of a Valyrian flame-god.

She was breathtaking—and entirely untouchable.

Her father, Lord Derek Rivendale, stood beside her—tall, weathered, regal. His dark robes were edged in red and silver, the sigil of the Moonflame dragon stitched into the breast. His expression was carved from stone.

The Targaryen delegation arrived through the great Crescent Gate. Dragons wheeled above the spires, but only one descended.

Vhagar.

Her wings stirred the sea itself. She landed in silence.

From her back dismounted Prince Aemond Targaryen.

He walked into Aerith Myr as if he had walked into a prophecy.

Clad in a long tunic of forest green, edged in black leather and steel, Aemond carried himself like a blade. His silver hair was tied back in a warrior’s knot, and over his left eye, the sapphire gleamed with chilling light.

He entered the hall with no fear, no need for pageantry.

He paused at the Flame Mirror.

His eye fell on Emberyn.

Their gazes met.

Nothing passed between them. No smile. No bow.

Only a pause so deep it seemed the castle itself held its breath.

Emberyn dipped her head in perfect courtesy. “Prince Aemond,” she said.

Her voice was softer than he’d imagined—low and cold, like water running over stone.

He inclined his head. “Lady Emberyn.”

It was not curiosity in his voice. Nor interest. It was calculation, restrained—a storm held beneath still water.

She did not falter.

Later, when the torches burned lower and most had retreated, Aemond wandered the high halls of Aerith Myr, drawn by some quiet thread of unease he could not name.

The walls whispered with enchantments. Shadows moved in the corners like watching spirits. He found himself in the Skyforge Library, where old Valyrian knowledge slumbered in sealed stone scroll-vaults.

There she was again.

Standing alone, moonlight pouring through a round glass skylight above her.

She read in silence, gloved fingers gliding over a silver-inked page. Her profile was cut from marble, untouched by the warmth of the flames.

“You read High Valyrian?” Aemond asked.

Without looking at him, she replied, “I was born speaking it.”

He approached. “This library holds books older than the Conquest.”

“Yes,” she said. “Older than any throne.”

He stared at her.

She closed the book slowly. “You seek something,” she said.

“What makes you think that?”

“You walk like a man trying not to chase something.”

Their eyes met again, closer this time.

The sapphire glinted.

“You speak like a seer.”

She stepped past him, brushing the edge of his sleeve with hers. She smelled of frost and smoke.

“I speak like a Rivendale,” she said.

And then she was gone.

Aemond remained where he stood, staring after her into the hush of the library.

Beneath his ribs, something coiled.

Not desire.

Not yet.

Something more dangerous.

Something like fate.

[taixuandream]

🎲 bats my eyelashes

A French kiss

It's just kinda long.

Long had the Phoenix flown without the dove. Red forgets its lighter shades, grey begets black and white. Feathers that had once layered together separate, fluttering about into nothingness. Muscle rots, eviscerated as time grinds bone down to ash. From ashes, a new day, with a red sun that would never set at the same time. The embrace of one she never expected to see again, one final kiss as shadows retreat, out of sight.

Peace had been found in cold flesh, the embrace of Honkai.

A reunion of elements, fire and ice, melting and cooling at the barest grazing of skin. Footprints burnt, sand melting, bubbling, cooling into transparent steps stained blood too hot to die. Her blessings, her gift, her curse. Memories shattered like glass, broken without a trace. Failures decorating the Phoenix before each rebirth, never regrowing the feathers in the same places. Bound in the echoes, lost, chain, dragged away and reshaped.

Even upon the edge of the precipice, blades pierced through identity, allied or hostile. Honkai could give back what it took. Her city, her friends, her world, her heart could never be reclaimed. All hope fell to what came next, flying in search of foreign skies that offered brighter rays of sun.

So much had changed. Would Elysia still find Fu Hua in Garuda's eyes? That scared girl in the oceans of fire. Would she still be able to reach within and find the heart that beats in innocence lost? The Phoenix could not drag the dove down, she would not let a bird of such beauty be beholden to the imperfections each sin bore. Elysia survived, but Hua died along with the previous era.

Ego would not wait for fire, but ice had not melted, despite spring overtook the infinite winter. The lonesome road, delicately balancing between paradise and ruin, was nearing its end.

Desire became craving, need to be comforted in the friction of indistinguishable warmth. In what Garuda stood for, fear did not flicker in bluish-pink eyes. Eyes that would shut soon enough, fuel poured and flames fanned. The chance to walk away continued to fade, neither turning around, abandoning the other in their time of need.

Pink locks cascade, overwhelming nostrils with petals of flowers fleeting, breaths become deep. She must take every aspect of heaven in before the gates shut again, the sinful cast back to the salt of the Earth without her angel. Vision grows blurry while fingers run through the endless ocean of what was once Origin. When one hand finds a cheek, the other seeks stability, hunching over the Herrscher.

She expects a comment about how she had changed, but instead there is silence, watching each other, waiting for the next move. Elysia would have in the past, but Fu Hua does now.

A kiss too bold to have come from that same girl she once knew all those years ago.

Lips catch, parting, breathing hitched. Collapsing into the heated exchange, arms frame Ego. The beating of a sole heart could only belong to the Phoenix. Bodies curl, slotting into and against each other as two puzzle pieces. Indistinct murmurs until they finally pull back. Gentle gasps.

"Elysia," but a whisper, lips crashing back with hunger, savoring each second spent in the others arms. Entangled, lost as red meets white, purified in pink. Another break, her head falling to the crook of the others neck. A muffled, "I'm so glad you've returned." Overwhelmed, a tear does run deep, the salty river wiped quick.

"Can we just... sit like this a while? Is it really so selfish to want to sit in your arms until I am nothing?" A lighter chuckle, in higher spirits than the last time she made such a request. Her own gaze of adoration cannot be pried from her sun.

[bardic-tales]

Inheritance of Ashes: A character deep dive for Aurora and Lucien Moore, FWC / FF 7 OCs

In fiction, we often talk about rebirth as a metaphor: a way of coping, transforming, or moving forward. But in this piece, I’m taking that concept to its metaphysical limit.

Aurora and Lucien, two phoenix-born constructs rising from the ruins of Bianca Moore and Sephiroth’s intertwined trauma, are more than narrative devices. They are incarnations of grief and willpower, shaped by cosmic corruption and maternal defiance.

This is not just a simple character analysis. It’s a deep dive on what it means to be reborn not as blank slates, but as vessels of inherited pain, fierce agency, and deliberate evolution. What follows is both deeply personal and profoundly meta: a look at what happens when the broken do not just heal, but recreate the world in their image.

Possible Trigger Warnings: Abuse, Body Horror, Childbirth (Non-Traditional), Death, Emotional Manipulation, Medical Experimentation, Parental Trauma, Psychological Trauma, Religious Imagery, Violence

They were not born. They were chosen. Forged in the embers of grief and divine ruin, Aurora and Lucien did not crawl from a mortal womb, but shattered forth from cocoon-shells of unmaking. They hatched not into innocence but into knowing. Their very first breath was not a cry, but a declaration: they were not merely children. They were echoes reborn. The remains of gods. The future made flesh.

Aurora and Lucien are the inevitable answer to a question the universe had long refused to ask: What comes after Sephiroth? What rises after Bianca falls?

They are mythic constructs formed from fragmented selves. Sephiroth’s broken identity splintered into Remnants, and Bianca’s corrupted soul scarred by Jenova and stitched back together with teeth, blood, and sheer maternal will. Together, the twins do not replace what came before. They reform it, burning with the ancient scream of the phoenix. I have died before, and I am still here.

Aurora is the Id incarnate, born from the embers of Kadaj’s unhinged fury and Yazoo’s radiant detachment. She lounges like a queen atop her emotional chaos. She has a wine glass in hand, legs draped over her throne, as the air around her crackles with scorn and reverence. She speaks of Sephiroth as a prophet, a father, a god. Not out of delusion but because she was born from faith.

Her fire is not wild. It is ritual. Her tantrums are sermons. Her violence is art. Aurora is rage dressed in leather, unrepentant in her devotion, aware of her lineage and demanding the galaxy worship accordingly. She is flame, and beneath that fire, the chilling stillness of a creature who knows exactly what she is. She is divine inheritance weaponized.

Lucien is colder but no less celestial. He is the mask that never slips: the Superego Sephiroth tried to become and the humanity he never could escape. He was born elegant, godlike, and eerily silent. Lucien does not weep, not outwardly. He does not rant or rave. He instead buries his grief beneath grace, folding his emotions into perfectly creased robes of composure. And yet, it is Lucien who feels the deepest. Where Aurora’s pain sings, his hums. Lucien's pain is a quiet, aching melody that never resolves. He is the echo of Loz’s strength and the sorrow of Yazoo’s silence. Lucien is what remains when everything has burned down: calm, radiant, and haunted.

Both siblings contain fragments of each of Sephiroth’s Remnants, but they are not clones. They are corrections. They are what happens when trauma is not just repeated, but recognized and when the patterns left by Jenova’s corruption are mirrored back by souls with choice. Aurora was born to burn, yes, but she burns in her own name, not her father’s. Lucien was born in stillness, but he chooses empathy even when the gods would rather he remain divine and distant. Each is a phoenix, but they are also the fire that kills the old story.

And their mother? Bianca Moore did not simply escape Jenova’s grip. She re-forged it into armor. Her body, shattered and sewn by Hojo and Ravenscroft’s grotesque ambition, became the forge in which these twins were made. Jenova sought to twist Bianca’s love into control, but Bianca turned that very love into warfare. They both played the parts that the celestials were created for: the eradication of beings like Jenova. Her children were not meant to serve planetary extinction. They were meant to remake it. Every cell tainted by Jenova became, in her hands, a rune of rebellion.

Aurora and Lucien are not accidents. They are not echoes. They are consecrated design. Mythology wearing flesh. A solar flare and moonlight. Grief and transcendence. In them lives not only the legacy of Sephiroth’s madness and Bianca’s sorrow, but the triumphant refusal to stay broken.

So no, they were not born. They were hatched. They were called by their mother. And the universe will never be the same.

[juliaqueendragon]

Full List of Names Pre-2025-02-12

Comparison (Names only in 1st or 2nd Position down Below)

A 

Abyss 

Acacia 

Ace 

Agate 

Air 

Alpha 

Amber 

Amethyst 

Ancient 

Angel 

Anti 

Apocalypse 

Apple 

Aqua 

Aquamarine 

Arch 

Arctic 

Ash 

Attack 

Aurora 

Autumn 

Azure 

Baby 

Ball 

Banana 

Basalt 

Bat 

Bay 

Bear 

Beat 

Bee 

Berry 

Beryl 

Big 

Birch 

Bird 

Blaze 

Blind 

Block 

Blue 

Bold 

Book 

Botanic 

Bottle 

Boulder 

Bow 

Box 

Brain 

Bramble 

Brass 

Brave 

Bread 

Breath 

Breeze 

Bright 

Brilliant 

Broken 

Bronze 

Bubble 

Bullet 

Bumble 

Butter 

Butterly 

Cactus 

Cake 

Candle 

Candy 

Caramel 

Carrot 

Cash 

Castle 

Cat 

Chance 

Chaos 

Charcoal 

Charm 

Cherry 

Chestnut 

Chip 

Chocolate 

Chunky 

Cinder 

Cinnamon 

Citrine 

Clash 

Class 

Classy 

Clear 

Clever 

Cloud 

Clover 

Club 

Coal 

Coco 

Cocoa 

Coconut 

Coffee 

Cold 

Color 

Cookie 

Cool 

Copper 

Coral 

Core 

Corn 

Coyote 

Crazy 

Crescent 

Crimson 

Crow 

Crown 

Crystal 

Cup 

Cupcake 

Cute 

Daisy 

Dance 

Danger 

Dark 

Darkness 

Dash 

Dawn 

Day 

Deep 

Deer 

Demon 

Depth 

Desert 

Dew 

Diamond 

Dice 

Dip 

Disco 

Dive 

Divine 

Dizzy 

Doctor 

Dog 

Dollar 

Dolphin 

Domino 

Donut 

Doom 

Double 

Dragon 

Drake 

Dream 

Drop 

Druid 

Drum 

Duke 

Dusk 

Dust 

Dusty 

E 

Eagle 

Earth 

East 

Easter 

Echo 

Eclipse 

Egg 

Elder 

Ember 

Emerald 

Epic 

Evening 

Ever 

Extra 

Fairy 

Faith 

Falcon 

Fan 

Fancy 

Fantasy 

Far 

Farm 

Fast 

Fern 

Field 

Fire 

Flame 

Flash 

Flower 

Fluffy 

Flutter 

Fly 

Force 

Fortune 

Fox 

Freedom 

Frenzy 

Fresh 

Frog 

Frost 

Fruit 

Future 

Galaxy 

Game 

Garden 

Garnet 

Gem 

Ghost 

Giga 

Ginger 

Glass 

Glitter 

Globe 

Gloom 

Glory 

Glow 

Gold 

Grace 

Grand 

Grass 

Gray 

Great 

Green 

Griffin 

Grim 

Ground 

Guardian 

Hair 

Hall 

Hand 

Harpy 

Hawk 

Hay 

Hazel 

Heat 

Heaven 

Heavy 

Hero 

Hollow 

Holly 

Home 

Honey 

Horse 

Hour 

Humming 

Ice 

Illusion 

Indigo 

Iron 

Ivory 

Jade 

Jasper 

Jazz 

Jelly 

Jewel 

Juice 

Jump 

June 

Jungle 

Juniper 

Jute 

Kangaroo 

Key 

Kick 

King 

Kite 

Knight 

Koala 

Lady 

Lake 

Land 

Lavender 

Leaf 

Leather 

Legend 

Lemon 

Life 

Light 

Lily 

Lime 

Lion 

Little 

Live 

Lost 

Love 

Lucky 

Luna 

Lush 

Magic 

Magma 

Marble 

Maroon 

Marzipan 

Masked 

Master 

May 

Maze 

Mega 

Melody 

Melon 

Memory 

Metal 

Meteor 

Midnight 

Milk 

Mind 

Mini 

Mint 

Miracle 

Mirror 

Mist 

Mocking 

Money 

Moon 

Morning 

Moss 

Mountain 

Mouse 

Movie 

Music 

Mystic 

Myth 

Nacho 

Nature 

Nebula 

Night 

Ninja 

Noble 

North 

Nova 

Nugget 

Oak 

Obsidian 

Ocean 

Octopus 

Old 

Olive 

Onion 

Onyx 

Opal 

Orange 

Orchid 

Osprey 

Owl 

Paladin 

Pale 

Panda 

Paper 

Park 

Party 

Peace 

Peach 

Pearl 

Penguin 

Pepper 

Peridot 

Phantom 

Phoenix 

Pie 

Pine 

Pink 

Pirate 

Pixel 

Pop 

Posh 

Potato 

Power 

Proof 

Pumpkin 

Purple 

Purpur 

Quail 

Quartz 

Quest 

Quick 

Rain 

Rainbow 

Ranger 

Raspberry 

Raven 

Red 

Rich 

River 

Robin 

Rock 

Root 

Rose 

Row 

Royal 

Ruby 

Rune 

Sad 

Saddle 

Salt 

Sand 

Sapphire 

Scarlet 

Scary 

Scroll 

Sea 

Sequoia 

Set 

Shade 

Shadow 

Shark 

Ship 

Sienna 

Silent 

Silver 

Sky 

Small 

Snake 

Snow 

Soft 

Solid 

Solo 

Song 

Soul 

Sound 

South 

Spark 

Sparkle 

Spell 

Spider 

Spirit 

Sporty 

Spotlight 

Spring 

Spruce 

Squirrel 

Star 

Steam 

Steel 

Step 

Stone 

Storm 

Strawberry 

Sugar 

Summer 

Sun 

Sunny 

Sunrise 

Sunset 

Swamp 

Sweet 

Swift 

Table 

Tea 

Thorn 

Thunder 

Tiger 

Time 

Tin 

Tiny 

Titan 

Tooth 

Topaz 

Town 

Trail 

Tree 

Trouble 

Truth 

Tsunami 

Tulip 

Turtle 

Tuxedo 

Twilight 

Twin 

Twinkle 

Ultra 

Umber 

Un 

Unicorn 

Vanilla 

Violet 

Voice 

Void 

Wall 

Walnut 

Walrus 

Water 

Wave 

Way 

Weather 

Web 

West 

Wild 

Willow 

Wind 

Wing 

Winter 

Wish 

Witch 

Wizard 

Wolf 

Wonder 

Wood 

World 

Yam 

Yellow 

Yoga 

Youth 

Yule 

Zap 

Zebra 

Zombie 

Ace 

Agate 

Air 

Amber 

Anchor 

Angel 

Anthem 

Apocalypse 

Apple 

Apricot 

Aquamarine 

Attack 

Aura 

Away 

Bag 

Band 

Bank 

Beach 

Beam 

Bean 

Bear 

Beat 

Beauty 

Bee 

Bell 

Belle 

Berg 

Berry 

Beryl 

Bird 

Birth 

Biscuit 

Blaze 

Block 

Blood 

Blossom 

Blue 

Board 

Bolt 

Bone 

Book 

Born 

Bottle 

Boulder 

Bow 

Box 

Boy 

Brain 

Bramble 

Brass 

Bread 

Break 

Breath 

Breeze 

Broken 

Bronze 

Brook 

Brother 

Bubble 

Buddy 

Bug 

Bullet 

Butter 

Butterfly 

Cactus 

Cake 

Candle 

Candy 

Caramel 

Care 

Cash 

Caster 

Catcher 

Cave 

Chain 

Champion 

Chance 

Charm 

Chaser 

Cherry 

Chestnut 

Chief 

Child 

Chip 

Chocolate 

Chunk 

Citrine 

Clash 

Class 

Clear 

Cloud 

Clover 

Club 

Cocoa 

Color 

Comet 

Cookie 

Copper 

Core 

Corn 

Craft 

Crasher 

Crescent 

Crimson 

Cross 

Crow 

Crown 

Crumb 

Crush 

Cry 

Crystal 

Cube 

Cup 

Cupcake 

Dale 

Dancer 

Danger 

Dark 

Dark 

Darling 

Dash 

Dawn 

Deep 

Deer 

Demon 

Desert 

Desire 

Destiny 

Dew 

Diamond 

Dice 

Dip 

Disco 

Diver 

Divine 

Dollar 

Dolphin 

Dome 

Doom 

Dove 

Dragon 

Drake 

Dream 

Dreamer 

Drink 

Drop 

Druid 

Drummer 

Duck 

Duke 

Dusk 

Dust 

Eagle 

Earth 

Echo 

Eclipse 

Effect 

Egg 

Escape 

Eye 

Fairy 

Faith 

Falcon 

Fall 

Fan 

Farm 

Father 

Feather 

Field 

Fighter 

Film 

Finder 

Fire 

Fish 

Flake 

Flame 

Flash 

Flight 

Floor 

Flower 

Fly 

Flyer 

Force 

Form 

Fortune 

Frame 

Free 

Friend 

Frost 

Fruit 

Future 

Gait 

Galaxy 

Game 

Gap 

Garden 

Garnet 

Gate 

Gaze 

Gazer 

Gem 

Ghost 

Gift 

Girl 

Glass 

Glimmer 

Globe 

Gloom 

Glory 

Glow 

Goal 

Goat 

Gold 

Grace 

Green 

Griffin 

Ground 

Growth 

Guard 

Guardian 

Guest 

Gum 

Habitat 

Hair 

Hall 

Hand 

Harmony 

Harpy 

Hat 

Hawk 

Hazel 

Head 

Heart 

Heat 

Heaven 

Herb 

Hero 

Hill 

Hollow 

Home 

Honey 

Honor 

Hoof 

Hope 

Horse 

Hour 

Humming 

Hunter 

Hurricane 

Hype 

Ice 

Icon 

Idol 

Ie 

Ivory 

Jasper 

Jazz 

Jewel 

Joke 

Joker 

Joy 

Juice 

Jump 

Jumper 

Jungle 

Juniper 

Kangaroo 

Keeper 

Key 

Kick 

Kid 

King 

Kiss 

Kite 

Knight 

Knock 

Koala 

Lady 

Lake 

Land 

Lavender 

Leader 

Leaf 

Legend 

Lemon 

Less 

Letter 

Liberty 

Life 

Light 

Lily 

Lime 

Lin 

Ling 

Lion 

Live 

Log 

Loop 

Lord 

Love 

Luck 

Lucky 

Lush 

Ly 

Machine 

Madness 

Magic 

Man 

Mane 

Maniac 

Mare 

Mark 

Maroon 

Mask 

Masked 

Master 

Matter 

Maze 

Meadow 

Melody 

Melon 

Memory 

Metal 

Milk 

Mind 

Mint 

Mirror 

Mist 

Mocking 

Mode 

Moment 

Monster 

Moon 

Mother 

Mountain 

Movie 

Music 

Mystery 

Mystic 

Myth 

Nature 

Nebula 

Ninja 

Nova 

Novel 

Nugget 

O 

Oak 

Oasis 

Ocean 

Octopus 

Omen 

Onion 

Orange 

Orb 

Orchid 

Osprey 

Owl 

Pair 

Paladin 

Panda 

Paper 

Park 

Part 

Party 

Path 

Peak 

Pearl 

Penguin 

Pepper 

Peridot 

Petal 

Phantom 

Phoenix 

Pie 

Piece 

Pine 

Pink 

Pirate 

Pixel 

Place 

Plan 

Planet 

Plant 

Play 

Pop 

Potential 

Power 

Price 

Prince 

Princess 

Promise 

Proof 

Pumpkin 

Punk 

Purple 

Purpose 

Quake 

Quartz 

Queen 

Quest 

Quiver 

Rabbit 

Racer 

Rain 

Rainbow 

Rambler 

Range 

Ranger 

Raspberry 

Ray 

Reader 

Rebel 

Red 

Respect 

Rest 

Rich 

Rider 

Ring 

Rising 

River 

Road 

Robin 

Rock 

Rocket 

Role 

Root 

Rose 

Row 

Royal 

Ruby 

Runner 

Saga 

Sand 

Scout 

Scroll 

Secret 

Seeker 

Sequoia 

Set 

Shade 

Shadow 

Shell 

Shelter 

Shimmer 

Shine 

Ship 

Shore 

Shout 

Shy 

Signal 

Silence 

Silver 

Singer 

Sister 

Sky 

Smash 

Smoke 

Snap 

Snout 

Snow 

Solid 

Solo 

Song 

Soul 

Spark 

Sparkle 

Spell 

Spice 

Spider 

Spirit 

Splash 

Spot 

Squirrel 

Stallion 

Star 

Steel 

Step 

Stone 

Storm 

Strawberry 

Stream 

Strider 

String 

Sunrise 

Sunset 

Surfer 

Surprise 

[thisdarkdecrepithouse]

Loneliness is like a knot of gnawing rats

Loneliness is happiness leached away.

The clawing sense of loneliness.

Glass shards sunk into the heart

The darkness creeping in from all sides

This looming oppressive feeling

It wrestled me to the ground and its maw held open at my throat, sharp teeth drawing trickles of blood.

It has come and my only response, is dread

Breathing sounds like the crunching of broken glass.

The grand irony of life; the beast in the mirror, the flower in the heart

The hollow ash-ringed eyes staring from deep tunnels in skin

The emptiness that can be cupped with a careful hand

Eyes staring but cannot see, colours flash

Watching days flip and nights blink, most say it's living

I call it dying, over and over again.

A satirical phoenix

[kalimat-kalimat-kalimat]

The Golden Phoenix

And as she burnt in flames and smoke her soul broke and shattered like glass, as she screamed in pain of the misjustice the world stopped moving, as her scream of pain reached the heavens even the gods felt her despair.

From the ashes of her body, a flame of gold emerged, her soul reformed and was made whole. As the Golden Phoenix formed from the ashes and rose out of flame spreading its majestic golden wings and screeching with the same ferocity as the broken girl the gods once again heard, and they shivered in fear.

The Phoenix took flight, its size dwarfing the mountains, it spread its wings and flew around the world leaving flames in its wake and making the people look up in awe at such a majestic site.

It screeched again, shaking the very foundations of reality and life, it broke the veil of the heavens and they fell, they shattered and crumbled as they burnt and broke, falling back down to the realm of mortals.

With a final defanging screech, the Golden Phoenix exploded in flames and cinder, lighting up the sky again, bringing forth a new god in the shape of the sun, a blazing and hot, a bright new symbol of hope.

[akwolfgrl]

Chapter one Phoenix redemption

“Hope rises like a Phoenix from the ashes of shattered dreams”-S. A. Sachs

Sunset Shimmer unlocked her door with shaky hands. Her face was still damp, her breath ragged. She had to keep calm. She couldn't break down. Not here. Not again, too many people who would inevitably ask questions. Questions to which she wasn't sure if she had all the answers to. As nice as her neighbors were they wouldn't be able to help her in this situation.

Sunset stumbled inside, her legs felt weak and boneless. Shutting her door and dropping her bag at the foot of the steps to her loft bed, Sunset just wanted to change and get into bed, end this miserable day. She quickly shed her clothes as she walked to her small dresser that was under her loft bed. Sunset focused on each movement she made. Taking deep, steady breaths, she pulled the drawer open and took her purple pajamas out. She pulled the shirt on over her head and stepped into her pants, and pulled them up.

All the exhausted girl was trying to was to become numb. Numb to the pain and heartbreak she was currently in the midst of. Hoping that being numb would be better than the alternative. Sunet had some anger issues she didn’t care for. She climbed the steps to her bed, pausing at the at the framed photo of her friends. Overcome with rage Sunset let out a screech she shoved the picture off her nightstand. The glass shattering on impact with the floor below. For the third time that day, her knees hit the floor. Picking up the pieces of broken glass, she began sobbing anew. She cut her finger on a piece of the glass. She watched as the blood fell onto her floor. Were they ever her friends? Did they ever even care about her? She had just been their little pet to parade around. She clutched the glass in one hand, the bite of the glass a welcome change. The pain was different from the inertial churn in her gut. It would be easy to slice her wrist open and watch the rest of her blood drip, adding to the small puddle below.

“No!” Sunset growled, getting angry at her weakness.

Anger was power. Being numb would get her nowhere. Besides, since when did Sunset Shimmer ever take the easy way out? Dropping the piece of glass back on the pile, resisting the urge to fling it across the room, she wiped her face and picked up the rest of shattered picture and dumped it in the trash next to her nightstand were it belonged. Tomorrow was a brand new day. Tomorrow, she'd start to fight for a new life.

Sunset walked back down her steps and into her small bathroom to wash the blood from her hand, grabbing the disinfectant and the ace bandages. She better get this cleaned up. She hissed slightly at the sting from the disinfectant, then quickly wrapped her right hand in the bandage, pulling it tight. She was glad she practiced writing with both hands. She hadn’t been aware that humans had dominant hands, and being a unicorn, she had no need for a dominant hoof. By Celestia, she did miss levitation. She headed back to her bed. Today had been very long, and there was a giant roller coaster ride of emotions, and being numb was not the answer. Anger would carry her much further. Sunset quickly rolled over into a more comfortable spot and slept a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

The next morning, Sunset awoke bright and early. Today was the start of her new life. First things first was to get ready for the day. She quickly headed down her steps and to her dresser below, grabbing her clothes before heading for the shower. Sunset turned the hot water on, looking at the mirror while the water warmed up.

“First, go see Principal Celestia and see about transferring out of Canterlot High. Second, do whatever necessary steps to leave the former school. Third, get through the school day with your chin held high. And fourth, make sure Princess Twilight doesn’t come through the portal. “ Sunset gave herself a nod in the mirror, glad to have a plan in motion.

Sunset stood under the searing hot water. She always preferred it hot enough to almost burn your skin off. It made her feel clean and alive. She was always partial to fire spells back in Equestria. She refused to think of it as home. Homesickness was unproductive and unhelpful. She would not go crawling back there, begging on her belly, pleading for a pardon. She was Sunset Shimmer, and she would fight tooth and nail for it. She needed to earn it. She finished washing up and relentlessly turned the shower off. Sunset toweled off and got dressed before starting on her makeup. Everything had to be just so. Sunset took her time to make sure her face was perfect . She stared on her fiery hair, brushing and curling it ever so slightly.

Sunset looked in the mirror, giving herself a quick pep talk. “You are Sunset Shimmer. You ruled that school and the students in it for years. You changed and worked hard to redeem yourself. You are strong. You will not let them bring you down. Redeemed does not mean push over. If any of them try to hurt you, you break them. “

She couldn’t show weakness. Teenagers were like sharks. If they smelled any weakness, it would be a bloodbath. Humans, especially teens, were quite vicious and violent. In all her years among them, Sunset still wasn’t quite at ease with all the overt violence. She had used to her advantage, of course, but it still hadn’t sat right with her. Sunset did one last check in the mirror before grabbing her stuff and heading out early. She wanted plenty of time to talk with principal Celestia. She locked her apartment door, grateful no one knew where she lived.

[mikaelsonwife4life]

Monster High: The Rise of the Phoenix

The full moon shone down on an abandoned factory, glinting off of partially broken glass. Smoke and ash lingered in the air, piles of it laying across the dirty factory floor. It was this building that Headmistress Equestria Bloodgood, Lord Dracula Dracul, and Victor Frankenstein encountered as they searched for a young monster. They knew what they were looking for but not who. A phoenix was the rarest being to walk the earth due to only one being able to be alive at once. 

A flash of red dashed across Headmistress Bloodgood’s peripheral vision and she whirled around, her silver eyes searching the darkness for the flash of color she’d seen. 

“Ve are looking for the Voenix,” Lord Dracul spoke, his thick Transylvanian accent altering the pronunciation of some of his words. 

“Don’t just say that,” Victor grumbled at his friend, “She won’t come out if she thinks we’re just looking for ‘the Phoenix’,” the simulcranium admonished. 

“Be quiet, both of you,” Headmistress Bloodgood snapped, glaring at her two friends, silently questioning if she shouldn’t have brought Phantom and Viveka along instead, “My name is Equestria Bloodgood. I run a school called Monster High.” 

“Monster High?” the trio looked up, shocked at what they saw. She was young, thirteen or fourteen, with golden tan skin and red-orange symbols across her limbs. Her eyes were fiery, red and orange and yellow blended into one. Her nails gripped the beam she was perched on, the inch long talon-like nails puncturing the wood. She was dressed simply, in jeans and a red to yellow ombre blouse that trailed, not unlike the tail feathers of birds. Her shoes were stilettos, red and scuffed with age and use. She wore a simple black leather jacket, also appearing to be heavily used. 

“That’s right,” Headmistress Bloodgood nodded, stifling her shock at the visibly half-human girl, “Monster High is a school built for monsters kinds. Not only that, we welcome monsters of all kinds.”

“That’s all good and well,” the Phoenix girl drawled, eyes narrowing, “When you speak of all monsters. What about half humans?”

“Vumans vave never attended Vonster High,” Lord Dracul spoke up, his searing red eyes staring up at the young girl, whose blood red lips curled into a mocking smile. 

“Untrue,” Victor spoke up, his rough voice seeming even rougher against the smooth baritone of Lord Dracul, graceful alto of Headmistress Bloodgood, and the Phoenix’s song-like soprano, “Father attended Monster High as a Normie.”

“It vas a vailed attempt,” Lord Dracul snapped, his fangs flashing as he glared at his old friend. 

“Dracula! Victor!” Headmistress Bloodgood snapped, narrowing her eyes at the two men, “That is enough. If you two can’t stop arguing, wait outside.” The two men grumbled but after a particularly harsh glare from the Headmistress, they sulked out into the cool night. 

“Between you and me,” Headmistress Bloodgood continued, silver eyes flashing back up to the monster, “Several half-human monsters attend Monster High already. Part of the special program I put together about seven years ago in hopes of creating a positive relationship between humans and monsters.”

“And the other monsters don’t care?” the Phoenix asked, her sunrise eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“For the most part, the other monsters aren’t aware,” Headmistress Bloodgood told her, “It would be your choice on whether or not the other monsters are aware of your heritage.” 

The Phoenix narrowed her eyes before she jumped from the rafters, a set of fire-like wings expanding from her back and slowing her descent. 

“The name’s Pyria Nix,” the girl told her, holding out a tan hand, “Consider it a pleasure.”

Headmistress Bloodgood smiled and shook the young girl’s hand, “Welcome to Monster High, Pyria.”

[phoenix-drowning-ina-rainy-world]

Yeah! I picture my phoenix as if it lost a wing and was rebuilt out of glimering steel description and lore under the cut!

Basically, what had happened was it had been a servent of the god of death. It had become a servent because she is the lord of fire and accidentally set ablaze eden, the prized jewel of the goddess of life and the goddess of the earth.

So the banished the phoenix, to wander the deserts of the earth, and there they found death, who took her in, nurtured them, helped them, but death, harbored distain for them and for fire, as after the fire passes and all the life is driven out, there only remains ash, and soil which becomes the bed of new better stronger life.

Soon, years later, life and death went to war, cursed to fight and love in an endless cycle, the pantheon split in half, with life having the earth, and sea, and death having the fire, and sky.

This war led to the destruction of everything, Pangea split, mountains rose up and fell back down, continents cracked, great swaths of forests set ablaze and glassed, deserts flooded, seas boiled, and the sun blacked out with ash and spores, roots and rot tearing through the mighty cities and monuments of death.

And after the dust settled, there was nothing, life whent on without guidence, her having left, with the earth and sea by her side into the sea and earth, and death, faded into the black, being mortally wounded, the air grew toxic with oxygen, and the mighty phoenix left to fend for themselves.

Many, many years passed as such, the mighty Phoenix, all alone, carried on, until the industrial revolution, wherein it had found a new call, a new power.

But death was enraged, a woke from their slumber, their most powerful servent threatening to break her contract, and he was not going to let them, so they struck her mortally, tearing at them.

She laid on the ground, broken and shattered, dead, and again as all the times before, she awoke with a shutter, flame pouring out of her injuries, but this time was different, inplace of flesh and bone

her heart became one of steel fueled by her eternal fire-her soul-her wing, torn and ripped, shattered and wought apart, was forged and remade, steel and iron bound, fire and mana fueled

and her fethers were recolored, a copper orange and slattered with a sooty black, firey aspects glimmering off them.

what is prev made of? (metal, fur, stone, fabric, wood etc. etc.)

[wolverenmayden]

Ashes, Wings, and Spotlight

In mirrored halls where silence breaks, She walks — an angel, wide-awake. With eyes like dawn and lips unspoken, A truth in her — both fierce and broken.

Her heels click time in measured beats, A model born of fire and streets. No crown of gold, no saintly face, But stars still orbit in her grace.

She poses not just for the lens, But for the ghosts she must defend. Each flash, a memory ablaze — Each strut, a stand against the haze.

She was not born with feathered flight, But stitched her wings from borrowed light. Of shattered glass and silk she made The halo others feared to braid.

They said: "Be pretty, soft, and still," But angels bend the world to will. She soared above the silent screams, A phoenix threaded through her dreams.

Once, ashes choked her every breath, Once, she danced with envy’s death. Her past, a cage of cold regret — But phoenixes don't just forget.

She burned to rise, to stand again, To dare the gaze of lesser men. No man could own her stride or soul — She walked in fire to feel whole.

And in the light of every stage, She writes her name across the page Of myths reborn, of voices found — Of women fierce and glory-bound.

The angel weeps not for the fall, For she became the flame, the call. A model not of skin, but power — She blooms, reborn, each fleeting hour.

In red and gold, she spins and gleams — The emblem of forgotten dreams. And when the spotlight fades to black, She leaves her fire — it won’t turn back.

[hit-record-repeat]

World of Warcraft - Fanfiction

Beneath the high sun’s unyielding gaze, golden fire spilled across the halls of the Ancients. Stone-born and sky-blessed, the marble shone like the bones of the earth, polished by the tread of a thousand years. So’thul Sunwhisper passed in silence, his step as quiet as moonlight on still waters, though the weight of his bloodline echoed in every measured pace.

The air lay thick with memory. Walls breathed of fire and steel, of banners once raised in wrath and triumph. Woven relics clung to the columns, threadbare now, yet proud, each stitch a name, each faded hue a story steeped in war-song. They whispered not to the ears but to the soul, those tapestries, as though the spirits of fallen kings stirred in the weave, still watching, still waiting.

Steel rang like thunder beneath the banners of Quel’Thalas, and the earth drank deep of red. From the east came the Scourge, pale and pitiless, their dead eyes void of sun or sorrow. They moved as a tide of rot and ruin, and the sky wept ash upon their march.

So’thul stood at the gate, his blade a shard of dawn caught in the forge of gods. Upon his brow burned the sigil of Sunwhisper, and behind him the sons of the phoenix-house raised their voices in an old tongue, the language of fire and oath.

He spoke no boasts, for his name bore weight enough. When he struck, it was the will of ten thousand ancestors, each blow a verse in the long saga of his blood. Undeath fell beneath his hand, not with screams, but silence, as though the very world paused to mark his wrath.

And still they came, endless and foul, but So’thul did not falter. Where others broke, he stood. Where light waned, he became its flame. And those who watched from the high walls that day would speak of him not as man, but myth, the sword-arm of the Sun, the fire that did not fall.

Light caught upon the high crest of his cheek, where the sun had long lingered in reverence. His face, cut fine as a sculptor’s boast, bore the silence of old magic, eyes like emerald flame, not born but forged in leyfire. Hair, braided with care and heavy with gold-thread, shimmered like spellbound rivers, each lock steeped in the memory of arcane winds.

From his brow to the long taper of his ear, sharp as a moonblade unsheathed, there moved the grace of a people who once danced among stars. His raiment flowed like banners in an unseen war, layer upon layer of crimson cloth clasped with sun-metal and rune-gems, each stitch the echo of a thousand whispered incantations. Runes shimmered and faded, breathing with the rhythm of his steps, as though the threads remembered the battles his ancestors had won.

No word passed his lips, yet the air bent around him with quiet awe. Not noble, nor merely proud, this was the bearing of one touched by legacy, draped in the weight of old glory, a blade not yet drawn but already feared.

Fingers brushed the cold stone, silent and enduring, like the bones of the world. Beyond the glass, the sea glimmered with the light of suns long fallen, each wave a thread of gold unraveling toward a horizon too far to grasp. His gaze met that brightness not with longing, but with the weight of memory, eyes sharp as falcon talons, shadowed by battles unseen.

The sun crowned him, cloaked him in warmth, but no heat reached the marrow. Beneath silk and rune-thread, beneath the noble arch of the brow and the fire-lit gaze, something older stirred, a burden carried not in hand, but in blood. The pulse of Quel’Thalas still beat in him, slow and solemn, like the rhythm of war drums echoing through empty halls.

Once, music had filled those halls, silver strings and voices high with joy. Now silence ruled, thick as ash. He had turned from the banquet and the blade alike, cast aside the whispers of courts and cabals, not out of fear, but of vision. A light not of this world had broken upon him, brilliant, terrible, and it had left a scar the eye could not see. Some called him prophet. Others, madman. Yet none could look upon him long without sensing the edge: the place where reason thins and revelation waits.

Wind swept low across the isle, murmuring through stone and blossom, threading petals with cinders. Beneath its breath rose the scent of life in bloom jasmine, sun-grass, the green sweetness of spring, cut sharp by the bitter tang of old fire, of cities broken beneath banners stained in plague.

[sanctified-haven]

Lore Dump

This was all originally intended for the Kiss of Death series of AUs that I was supposed to write down but never did. Funnily enough, none of this is genuinely related to the main canon of Kirby. If any canon characters are mentioned, it's all just headcanon-y stuff.

The flower of Astra

- 6 petals.

Supposedly, the first incarnation cycle has already finished...

Once upon a time, before death came upon the world, there were two companions, Astra and Adonis. When the great plague— death itself— was born, Adonis was the first to fall, forever locked in the underworld as its keeper and sole guardian. Adonis was forced to shed memories of all but his own death, and had to replace his name with a new one. The new sentinel of death, Morpho, spent many solemn years apart from Astra, longing eternally for his hopefully inevitable return. Upon Astra's return to Adonis's— now Morpho's— arms, he was nothing but ash. In his memorial and in Morpho's grief, the Flower of Astra was created from the leftover fragments of his soul. Since its creation, all 6 of its petals have fallen then grown back.

The first incarnation: Viridia. A strong, valiant warrior known for her technique and skill. She was beloved by the people surrounding her, until she was accused of killing innocents. In a battle, she was chased to the edge of a cliff. Before she could save herself, she fell off the cliff and was impaled by a sharp rock formation. She slowly bled out, finally at peace a day and a half later.

The second incarnation: Phoenix. An honest, blunt seer. His truth telling abilities, while mostly due to his nature, were seen by his friends and acquaintances as nearly fortune-telling adjacent. It was suspected that the prophecy stating that there would be one who could tell no lies was him all along. As he began speaking ill of those who had been running the country, he was accused of falsifying facts, and was convicted of treason. He was burned alive.

The third incarnation: Athena. A once-in-a-millenia genius. She spent her entire life dedicated to her studies, never once considering it for her own personal gain as opposed to for the good of the public. Athena created a blueprint for a robot with a soul, made to help people recover from isolation and aid with humanitarian efforts following some recent natural disasters. One night, her laboratory was broken into by some thieves. In attempts to protect her equipment and discoveries, she was stunned to death.

The fourth incarnation: Orion. A robot with a soul, born of a scholar's plans. He was trained to be a weapon and only a weapon, but he felt much more. On the inside, his soul felt "alive", haunted by memories that he was unsure were even his. He attempts to succeed in his role to please his creators, the Ancients. No matter how hard he tried, they called him weak. Eventually giving up on the robotic project, Orion slowly fell into disrepair, shutting off permanently and finally earning the peace he sought.

The fifth incarnation: The Maiden of Broken Glass. A woman cursed with a prophecy. She spent her life as a nomad, constantly wandering without a home. Her mind was tortured with one thing, "danger". Every city, village, and town she saw was another that she warned. She spoke of destruction, and as soon as she left, it appeared. Believing her to be the cause of such a disruption, she was chased across countries, continents, and planets in order to make her "repay" for her damages. Eventually, she could no longer run anymore. Her body gave out and everything went quiet.

The sixth incarnation: Galacta Knight, the Aeon Hero.A hero of well renown. As a child, constant pressure was put upon him to be the best, to succeed the most, to have the most talent. He built up an exterior shell of an intense personality, hoping that no one else could affect his mind so much as his mentors, the Ancients, had. He fails time and time again, his superiors frowning upon him as if he were only meant to be a perfect weapon, rather than a person. Eventually, long after the quest to seal away the destructive Terminus and save the fate of the universe, he could not handle the pressure and expectations of the Ancients. He broke, spiraling out of control, and destroying a few cities along with his own sanity. They soon chased him out, hoping to put the situation far out of sight and out of mind. Still alive today, he wanders, searching for the piece of himself he lost centuries ago.

[ao3feed-piltovers-finest]

Phoenix Forged From The Ashes

by masterofplasma

The air in Piltover was thick with the haze of uncertainty, but the city still glistened in the morning light as the first rays of dawn bled through the clouds. Even after everything—the battles, the betrayals, the destruction—the city still stood. It was far from perfect, its towering spires scarred, its streets broken. But there was hope. Jayce could see it, even if it felt more fragile than the glass that adorned his inventions.

Words: 10676, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Jayce (League of Legends), Viktor (League of Legends), Vi (League of Legends), Caitlyn (League of Legends), Jinx (League of Legends), Ekko (League of Legends)

Relationships: Jayce/Viktor (League of Legends), Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends), Ekko/Jinx (League of Legends)

Additional Tags: Jayce is a Sweetheart (League of Legends), Jayce is in love with Viktor (League of Legends), Jayce Needs a Hug (League of Legends), Viktor is in love with Jayce (League of Legends), Jayce is Trying His Best (League of Legends), Protective Jayce (League of Legends), Bisexual Jayce (League of Legends), Trans Viktor (League of Legends), Viktor Needs a Hug (League of Legends), Viktor is Bad at Feelings (League of Legends), Caitlyn and Vi are in Love (League of Legends), Vi Needs a Hug (League of Legends), Protective Vi (League of Legends), Good Sibling Vi (League of Legends), Vi Needs Therapy (League of Legends), Lesbian Vi (League of Legends), Caitlyn Needs a Hug (League of Legends), Lesbian Caitlyn (League of Legends), Jinx Needs a Hug (League of Legends), Jinx Needs Therapy (League of Legends), Ekko Loves Jinx (League of Legends), Jinx Has Issues (League of Legends), Jinx Has PTSD (League of Legends), Hurt Jinx (League of Legends), Protective Jinx (League of Legends), Ekko Needs a Hug (League of Legends), Protective Ekko (League of Legends), Caring Ekko (League of Legends), Tired Ekko (League of Legends), Ekko Needs Therapy (League of Legends), Pining Ekko (League of Legends), Trans Jayce (League of Legends), Trans Male Character, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Post-Canon Fix-It, Gay, Everyone Is Gay, Gay Panic, Canon Gay Relationship

Read onA03. from AO3 works tagged ‘Caitlyn/Vi (League of Legends)’

[etruatcaelum]

SUMMER ROSE

Always the best of us.

The nursery rhyme goes like this:

One for sorrow, two for mirth Three for a funeral, and four for a birth Five for silver, six for grimm And seven for a secret shared with a grin.

It's an old song. There is always a warrior; there are always grimm. Summer Rose was a lonely child, and in the mirror of her eyes the world would see its own sadness looking back. She smiled a lot. She was empty, then.

Legend has it that the sun fell from grace because it tried to please everyone: and then everyone tossed the sundered pieces back to the sky to reflect the light of a better sun into darkness. They called this broken thing the moon, because it cried too much for their liking.

———

Here is a different story:

Once upon a time there was a wicked old witch who lived deep in the wilds, among the beasts and monsters. Once upon a time there was a warrior with silver eyes who protected the woods until the monsters carried her away. Once upon a time, a woman looked into a mirror and found that she did not know the woman looking back at her.

Without moonlight, the darkness cannot speak; and the moon can only see when the darkness opens her eye.

Sometimes the mirror breaks.

Summer Rose is empty now. She is who she has always been and she's not the same at all. The woman behind the mirror never learnt how to smile. The woman bleeding with glass in her hand has long forgotten how to cry.

The witch eats the warrior. The warrior becomes the witch.

That's how the story has to go.

———

This is the first thing Summer Rose said to Salem, that night:

I know what you are.

She wasn't supposed to say anything. Maybe things would have turned out differently, if she chose the pragmatic path instead of the heroic one and staged an ambush, instead of a conversation. But she's never liked to ruminate on maybes, past or future.

What did happen is this:

Salem pulled another tomato from the vine (it struck her as a strange thing, then, for the witch to be doing when the warrior came to slay her) and weighed it in her palm for a moment before tossing it to Summer. It was ripe and firm and redder than roses.

And then the witch said:

Do you?

———

No one ever finds the body. No one could tell you the story of what happened except the three who walked away, and none of them are much inclined to grin.

Summer Rose is buried in an empty grave—the dust on an old man's sleeve. But a rose is not unlike a phoenix: new things always grow from the ashes of old. Truth still haunts her, phantomwise.

She's not the one who died that night.

———

PHYSICAL

Short stature. Lean. Pale, warm-toned skin. Hair, deep mahogany-red, easily mistaken for dark brown or even black in dim lighting, worn shoulder-length and usually pulled back at the top.

Silver eyes: before she meets Salem, the irises are an overcast grey struck through with silver-white striae, and darken gradually to a foreboding stormy color over the years. In the present, they're clear, polished silver. She's a faunus; her only visible trait is the tapeta lucida in the backs of her eyes.

Irregular patches of discolored skin cover her hands and forearms, grayish and slightly darker—old scars from a caustic burn, courtesy of a grimm. Nerve damage caused by this injury leaves her with poor grip strength, as well as numbness and pain; Summer wears reinforced gloves with an aura-reactive lining to compensate for the weakness of her hands.

STYLE

In her huntress days, elaborate and put-together, devoting considerable effort to looking the part of the perfect huntress—including by pumping aura into her clothing to keep herself pristine in battle. Rich browns, subtle red, gold and bronze, warm.

After joining Salem, she keeps the moonlight-grey cloak with the crimson lining and little else; trades gold for silver, going more for what's comfortable and simple to maintain.

Her emblem is—or rather, was—a burning rose.

SUNDERED ROSE

Note changes from the canon design. Sundered Rose begins its career as a battle-axe built, in somewhat ungainly fashion, around a hunting rifle; over the years, it has evolved by a process of incremental adjustment into something more like a short halberd.

Summer mostly doesn't use the gun in combat. It is a hunting rifle in the literal sense, as in of animals, for food.

AURA

The color of lilac in bloom. Her levels at rest are well below average, but Summer is a phenomenally skilled auralerist; in a contest against an opponent with even quite deep reserves, she can often match and surpass her foe on the strength of her highly-efficient aura usage and swift recovery.

SEMBLANCE

When she enrolled at Beacon Academy, Summer registered her semblance with the Valean Huntsman Guild under the name Blinding Mirror, which she defined as a kind of multi-sensory camouflage. Simply put, it allows her to move unobserved.

Some peculiarities quickly became apparent. Her teammates were among the first to notice Summer's assertion that she could just make herself invisible and inaudible didn't add up. She could and often did vanish herself only selectively—leaving herself perceptible to her allies and intangible to her opponents. Likewise puzzling was the fact that her semblance seemed to affect grimm, too, something that true sensory manipulation can't achieve. The only thing that can obscure a person from a grimm's perception is the masking of emotion or aura.

These oddities never concerned Summer much. Her semblance did what she needed it to do, and worked best when she didn't over think it. Why question a good thing?

Then, about two years after Team STRQ graduated from Beacon, the automatic door at the Guildhouse went out of order, and Summer Rose—having missed the little warning note taped to the glass—simply walked through it as though the barrier didn't exist at all. That caused enough of a stir for Summer to get serious about understanding what she could do.

The real nature of her semblance is the manipulation of probability. Specifically, Summer can modify the probability that she will be in a certain location at any given time, as long as the natural probability is greater than zero—no matter how slim the chances. A malfunctioning automatic door poses no obstacle to her because it isn't impossible that a broken sensor might have, coincidentally, fired at just the right time to open the door for her... and if Summer isn't paying attention, her semblance tends to adjust the real probability to match her subconscious expectations.

It is, of course, much harder to walk through a door she knows is closed, and harder still to walk through a wall.

The conditional imperceptibility her semblance can give her derives from Summer's ability to move from one point to another by changing the probability that she will be at the end point at any given time; when she uses her semblance this way, her movement through physical space isn't necessarily coherent.

She isn't truly imperceptible; it just isn't possible to be certain of where she is in between Point A and Point B, unless she makes the conscious decision to also be where her allies look for her, when they look for her, en route to her intended destination.

(Further reading on my personal for interested parties: the Ruby Rose Quantum Bullshit Theory. Obviously I don't expect or require Rubys to follow this, but in my head, Summer and Ruby share the same base semblance, expressed in very different ways.)

MAJOR HEADCANONS

On Summer Being a Faunus On Silver –> & Addendum: On Silver Bloodlines Visage I, Visage II

PRINCIPAL ALLUSIONS

The Last Rose of Summer -> Summer herself is not the rose. She is the speaker of the poem, who plucks the rose and scatters its petals while contemplating his own loneliness and desolation; the proverbial "last rose" of Summer here is Ruby, whom she leaves behind shattered and alone.

The Marvelous Land of Oz –> Summer is General Jinjur, who leads the Army of Revolt to conquer the Emerald City and spends the remainder of the book searching for the royal crown—which the Scarecrow took with him when he fled the city. (The twist, of course, is that this General Jinjur works for Glinda.)

Little Red Riding Hood –> Summer is both the Grandmother and the Wolf, or rather she's the Wolf who is the Grandmother in truth; and this layer of character allusion intertwines with:

Maiden-in-the-Tower Stories –> Summer is also the Wolf who devours Petrosinella's ogress—the third, and last, beast Petrosinella conjures to aid her escape from her captor.

Cinderella –> Summer is the Good Stepmother, at least from Cinder's perspective: a Stepmother who chooses Cinderella over her own daughters, one who also needed to escape, one who understood the role she was meant to play in the story and refused to accept it.

Irish Mythology –> Summer is the Cú Chulainn to Raven's Morrígan—the enemy who thrice wounds her and swears never to lend her aid, and is thrice tricked into healing her.

OTHER NOTES

Summer was a child soldier. Her silver eyes ignited for the first time when she was eight years old, while grimm rampaged through her hometown—an SDC-operated mining company called Visage—and from that point on, her whole identity was silver-eyed warrior whether she liked it or not. Throughout her childhood and her years as a student at Beacon, Summer had very little conception of herself as a real person.

She inherited her faunus identity from her mother, Ginger Rose, and her silver eyes from her father, Eglantine Vermeil. Eglantine was the son of Sharon Vermeil, one of two illegitimate children born of an affair between King Osiander I and Dame Hyemalis Vermeil, his close ally and the winter maiden at the time of the Great War. Summer has only the vaguest interest in this family trivia, but the irony of Salem asking her to hold the fort at Beacon and find the crown is not lost on her.

Going after Salem was a suicide mission. Summer did plan to return, but half-heartedly; deep down, she meant to die and take Salem down with her. Salem intuited this and answered her desperation with honesty, telling Summer the truth about the Brothers and the task Ozma had been given and her history with them. Summer chose to stay with her out of genuine conviction that it's the right thing to do.

She's, accordingly, the closest and most trusted of Salem's associates in the present. As far as Summer is concerned, this is her war just as much as it is Salem's; she considers Salem her friend, and herself Salem's general.

Summer is also—at least compared to the others in Salem's inner circle—fairly close to Cinder, and the only one Cinder even remotely trusts. She was principally responsible for Cinder's combat training after the girl arrived in Evernight, and her feelings toward Cinder shade into maternal.

[akwolfgrl]

Part 2 Phoenix redemption

"In order to rise from its own ashes, a Phoenix must first burn” - Octavia E. Butler, parable of the talents

Sunset strode into the school with her head held high. There were very few students here since there was only a few clubs early in the morning. She could feel their hate-filled glares as she walked past them. Her was chin up in defiance as she headed for the principal’s office. Sunset knocked on the door, waiting impatiently for the signal to come in. She heard footsteps approaching the door.

“Sunset? Come in come in. “ Principal Celestia opened the door, gesturing for her to come inside.

“Thank you. “ Sunset stepped inside.

She normally tried to avoid being alone with Celestia since she had been so close to her counterpart who had the uncanny ability to see right through Sunset. So far, the Principal hadn’t quite the same uncanny ability. Sometimes, perhaps, she saw more then let on, but that was neither here nor now. Sunset needed to focus on the problem at hand.

“How can help you today, Sunset? “

“What are my options for leaving this school?” Sunset questioned, hoping for an answer. “I am not anon-a-miss, but if I can not convince the Rainbooms off this, then I have no chance of convincing the rest of the school. I'm not a masochist I will not stay where I'm not wanted. “

The principal sighed. “I’m sorry, Sunset. I had hoped my students had learned better, but unfortunately that doesn't seem to be the case. “

Sunset felt a flutter of guilt pass through before shoving it aside. Now was not the time.

“I will be sad to see you go. You’re my best student. Top of all your classes in fact. I believe you have enough credits to graduate early if you wish. If, of course, you finish your SATs which I’m sure we can get those done before the end of this semester. “

Sunset felt her heart leap with excitement. A way out! College sounded wonderful, a real challenge. Sunset could only imagine how much she would learn and discover while there. Twilight would hopeful be excited for her.

The student nodded with approval. “That sounds great actually! I’ll do whatever I need to. “

Celestia nodded and went over to her file cabinets and took out a few college applications and handed them to Sunset, along with SAT practice sheets.

“I’ll arrange for you to start your SATs, so use this time to study. I’m certain you'll do great, Sunset. We will miss you. “

Celestia looked genuinely sad to see her student go, but it was for the best. The principal knew if Sunset stayed she'd just bring more trouble since she was anon-a-miss’s target. It was time to move onwards. Time’s arrow matches forward after all.

Something caught Celestia’s vision. “Sunset, what happened to your hand?” The principal asked, concern shining in her pink eyes.

Sunset looked down at the bandage covering her right hand. “Just some broken glass. It’s not a big deal.” she smiled reassuringly.

Principal Celestia still look slightly concerned and a bit sceptical. But Sunset was not a child and she refused to be coddled. She never had been while growing up and was not about to start now. But she didn't say anything, she knew when to pick her battle's. Principal Celestia was not the enemy. Sunset gathered up her papers and stood ready to leave before saying something she would regret.

“Thank you, Principal Celestia, but I’m afraid I need to be headed to class. Shall I come find you when I’m ready for my SATs?” Sunset inquired.

Principal Celestia nodded her head, her aurora-colored hair moved slightly with the momentum. How similar yet so vastly different to the princess sunset once admired.

“Have a good day, Sunset. Please don't hesitate to come to me about any problems you’re having.” The woman offered with a kindly smile.

Sunset merely nodded her head as she walked out the door and to her locker. The halls were now filled with students laughing, talking and arguing. There seemed to be even more teasing and anger than yesterday. Sunset was bumped into several times but she kept her head held high and ignored them. There were far too many people to pinpoint each offender. She finally made it to her locker, growling at the graffiti written on.

“Oh, how original!” Sunset called out, sarcasm dripping from her lips. “anon-a-bitch and she demon! I knew you all weren't the brightest but how pedestrian and unimaginative. “ It seemed CHS was full of imbeciles. Why had she ever given them the benefit of the doubt was beyond her. She put up with the abuse before right after the fall formal racked with guilt (and still a bit shaken up due to being shoot with rainbow lasers) thinking she deserved it, she had her friends as sort of a back up. They never stopped the abuse, but there was the chance that they might. Now that she had been abandoned, she was fair game. Sunset slammed her locker shut, chin in the air, and headed to her first class.

Sunset took her seat in Honors Calculus, setting down her text and notebooks. Grabbing her pencil and her SAT practice sheets, she would need something to keep herself occupied after all. Most of her classes were honors, the exception being her art class and free period. Sunset began to read through the practice sheet, circling the questions she would like to study more. The class went by quickly and quietly without incident.

Sunset headed down the hall to her next class when she was shoved against the lockers. She looked up to see Hoops smirking down at her.

“You really shouldn’t smirk. It just makes you look even more idiotic. “ Sunset knew she shouldn’t say it but she’d rather deserved to be hit.

Hoops’s face flushed with anger and he threw a punch. Sunset wasn’t sure where it was supposed to hit, but she could have moved out of the fist’s way but she had been a touch too slow. His fist contacted with her shoulder, hard. She punched him in the balls and quickly slipped out from under his arm and twisted behind him and kicked him against the locker, keeping her foot against his back as he whimpered from pain.

Sunset growled. “Do that again and i will squeeze your balls so hard it’ll pop out of your skull. And i will shove them down your throat. “

She watched satisfied as his dumb face paled further. Hoops quickly nodded.

“Please don’t hurt me again.” He whimpered, scared and in pain.

Sunset took her foot away, flipped her hair and walked away, heading to her next class. The students that had crowded around in anticipation, hoping for a fight, quickly parted. She knew that little display wouldn't be enough to keep her safe. She rolled her shoulders, biting back a hiss. He struck her hard. Sunset would have to put an ice pack on it when she got home after her shift at Tamaki and Tea Sushi Bar were she worked as a waitress. She entered Honors History. It was surping how similar their histories were, where in Equestria, it was magic mostly. Here it was typically guns and a lot more death. It wasn’t Sunset’s best subject. She actually had to study for it. As the student pulled out her stuff for this class, a wad of paper hit her on the head.

“Whoever threw that needs to knock it off before I make you.” Ms. Harshwhinny snapped. “It is highly inappropriate. I expect maturity from my students. “

Thankfully, that was the last incident until lunch time. Sunset’s next class, Honors English, was right next door. Sunset stood in the line for lunch, staring the other students down and pointedly refusing to even glance in the direction of her prior companions. When she was close to the food trays, Sunset grabbed one and placed on it an egg salad sandwich and an orange before heading to the library for some quiet when suddenly her tray was smacked out of her hands. She watched as her food hit the floor, the orange rolling away. A girl snickered and began to walk away. Sunset grabs the tray and swings it, hitting the back of the girl’s bare legs.

“Ow! “ The girl yelped in surprise.

“Wha in tarnation do ya two think y’alls up ta ove’r here? Now yous two best be pickin up ta mess ya’ll made else i be fixen a talkin ta wit the principal bout tis. “ Miss Smith, Applejacks’s grandmother and the school lunch lady, came bustling over. She stood over the pair with her hands on her ample hips.

Sunset bit the inside of her lip to keep back a retort and got down on her knees to pick up the mess tossing it in the trash.

“But she hit me!” The other girl cried, pointing at Sunset. “It's all her fault! I'm not picking up that mess!”

Sunset watched as the elderly woman grabbed the girl by her ear. “Who be teachn’ ya ta mouth off ta elders youngn? Now go get yurself a mop ‘n bucket. “

The girl ran off. Sunset couldn't remember her name, just that she was friends with Photo Finish. Sunset went after the orange that had rolled away- thankfully- from other students. She gave the the orange a quick look over. It seemed like it hadn't been too damaged so she kept it. Sunset knew she should eat it, especially since she forgot about breakfast, but she wasn't in the mood for food anymore. Sunset did notice that her bandage was starting to get dirty. She made a mental note to make sure to change it when she got home.

Sunset turned to Miss Smith. “Am I done here? Or do you want me to wait for her to come back?” She asked politely.

Miss smith waved her hand. “Nah. Ye best be getting along ‘fore another ting comes along.”

Sunset nodded and headed off to the library to study. It was becoming quite clear that she need to leave, otherwise someone (probably her) would be dead by June. It was a good thing she already had a discussion about this very subject.

Lunch came and went. The slightly dented orange had been left uneaten. Sunset really hadn't been in the mood for food. Thankfully, that had been the only little incident for the rest of the day. Pinkie Pie had glared at her all through art class and multiple bumps in the hall, but it was nothing compared to earlier this morning.

Sunset caught the bus to the mall right after school. She had a shift in Platform Sandals to complete before heading home. Hopefully Applejack and Rainbow Dash weren't working today. Getting off the bus, Sunset went straight for the bathroom to change clothes.

“What are you doing here, traitor!” A familiar scratchy voice barked at her. Sunset turned to glare at the rainbow-haired teen, holding up her work uniform.

“Changing clothes, obviously.” Sunset spoke calmly even though her heart was pounding in her chest. Dealing with the other students had been easy compared to this.

“Likely story!“ Rainbow continued to shout at her.

Sunset shrugged, resisting any urge to beg for her ex-friend- how bitter that word felt- to listen or to punch her lights out.

“Believe what you will, but I must be getting along to work “ Sunset stepped into the stall, her face falling as tears threatened to fall. She felt Rainbow Dash pound on the stall door.

“Come out here, traitor! I'm not done with you yet!“ Her fists shook the stall door. "Get out of thire so I can kick your ass!"

Sunset ignored her and continued to get dressed. She wished she had remembered her father's words much earlier.

“Friendship and caring are a disadvantage.” he would tell her. The only ponys he cared for were himself and his younger brother.

Rainbow Dash continued pounding on the stall door, obviously irritated at being ignored. Sunset took a deep breath and wiped the door open.

“Leave me the fuck alone, after all you're quite good at leaving. “ Sunset pushed past her former companion sliding her bag with her street clothes over her shoulder, wincing slightly. She hurried out the door before Rainbow Dash had a chance to respond or relate. Luckily there had been someone else in the bathroom at the time, or else Rainbow Dash more than likely would have done something very rash.

Sunset was wary when she finally unlocked her door, her feet and shoulder ached badly. She wanted to go inside put her free meal in the fridge shower change and go to bed. She always got a free meal after her shift. Sunset did in fact eat most meats, beef was one she felt off about, after all cows back home were sentient. Chicken, fish and pigs were not however.

“Yoo hoo Sunset dear I need your help! “ Ms. Petunia called out.

Sunset groaned and shut her door turning to her neighbor one of the many elderly who lived there. It was a nice arrangement. Sunset got to live rent free but she was like a mix between a property manager and home help provider. She did everything from changing light bulbs, to grocery shopping(mostly large and or heavy objects).

“Yes Ms. Petunia how can I help you.”

“Oh Sunset I've told you many times to call me Emerald. “She waggled a green finger tutting lightly. Her pale sea green hair was pulled back in a yellow scarf.

“Now I need you to help me fix me tv its acting all wonky again. I told my son I didn't need a fancy fangled new Tv my old one worked perfectly fine. But you know men and their toys. “ Emerald Petunia chatted her slippers scuffing slightly on the floor ass she lead sunset inside her kimono robe trailing behind like silk waterfall.

Sunset reluctantly followed her inside. She wasn't even from this world and understood technology better than some of her neighbors. She tuned out Ms. Petunias chatter the best she could as she yet again reporgamed the Tv.

“Oh thank you dearie! Here have some chicken Alfredo your much to thin my dear. Have you been eating properly? And your fancy fish from your doesnt count. Why there's barely anything there! Not a proper meal at all. “

Ms. Petunia handed Sunset a big tupperware container full of chicken alfredo. Her neighbors sometimes tired to feed her up always saying how she was so skinny. They meant well food was their way of showing they cared about her. It was still an odd feeling, have anyone actually care about her. Her parents certainly hadn't. Times like this Sunset felt that her father was wrong.

“Thank you. “

“Your welcome dearie. You have a good day at school tomorrow. “

Sunset headed back to apartment put her food in her mini fridge, kicked her shoes off and trudged up the stairs and promptly passed out cold. Not bothering to even change her clothes.

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 2

🔥Phoenix and Ashes

Suna Rintarou x f!reader

Summary: “It’s funny how nobody believed that we could make it work.” - “Well-maybe they were right.”

Meeting Suna Rintarou wasn’t part of your plan. Dating him, either. Getting your heart smashed into the palms of his hand, even less.

Content Warnings: same as chapter 1 - High School Setting, Fluff, Mention of an Original Character

Words count: 2.9k

chapter 1 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9

You usually have quite the Cartesian spirit. Always rational and logical. You know one hour contains sixty minutes and each minute contains sixty seconds. So why do the past fifteen minutes feel like hours?

You’re waiting outside the Kobe Science Museum, just like you agreed with Suna a few days before. It’s almost 10 a.m., the hour you’re supposed to meet. You arrived a little bit early, just out of politeness — and absolutely not because you woke up at 6 a.m. from the excitement, stress, or thrill. You look at your watch to make sure it is not broken. Only one minute has passed since you last looked at it and you seriously start questioning the concept of time. Maybe you’re encountering some temporal anomaly? Anyway, this feels like torture.

A snowflake falls on the glass of your watch, you look up and you realise the first snow of the year has decided to come out. It’s good that your “date” (you still don’t want to call it that way) is indoors so you will not need to cancel it.

As you look at the grey sky, you remember you’ve never really been fond of either winter or summer, both seasons are way too cold or too hot to your taste. When you were younger, you never joined the other kids from the neighbourhood to play outside when it snowed. Your parents would call for you to tell you to go out, but you preferred staying in your room, reading some books. Sometimes, you would sneak peeks out your window and watch strangers making snowmen and doing snowball fights. But you never felt curious, or envious. You were just there and it seemed enough. But for the first time, your heart warms up at the falling frozen drops. You reach out to feel them on your skin. It burns, you think. Your fingers get red and wet as the snow melts on your hand. It burns, but you find yourselves craving for more.

Without realising it, time passes faster and the clock reaches the due hour.

“Hi.”

You jump in surprise.

“Did I scare you?” Suna asks with his usual lazy smile.

“I - hm.” You’re hesitant. Did he see you just now? You hope you did not look too childish and try to devise an excuse, “No, I was just lost in my thoughts.”

“You’ve never seen snow before?”

So he did see you. You shouldn’t be surprised anyway; being observant of his surroundings, deciphering his opponent’s expressions is nothing but normal for a middle blocker.

“I have but it’s just-”

“Nice?”

You pause for a second before smiling at him. “It is.”

Suna looks at you with attention. He wouldn’t qualify you as grumpy but seeing you smile so genuinely was akin to witnessing a rare eclipse. At that moment, the boy feels a certain gratitude that such an uncommon sight was given to him, and him only.

“Oh by the way.” He did not realise you were holding a little white cardboard box until you handed it to him. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry, I know it was last weekend, so I’m a little bit late… I hope you will accept it.”

Why would you apologize while giving a birthday present? Suna thinks. Polite. You’re always so polite. You look down at your feet and your cheeks redden — are you cold? Are you shy? He can’t unravel the reason behind your expression. In the ten months he's known you, he has never seen you react like that. A feeling arises in his chest like a sudden urge. He’s not the type to overthink — it’s too tiring. However, a myriad of questions start racing through his head: how do you look when you’re bursting into laughter? What expression do you have when you’re feeling a sense of accomplishment? How do your eyes sparkle when you're genuinely happy? What is it like when you’re surprised by something scary? How does your face light up when you talk about something you love? He wonders how you look when you’re at peace, content, and everything in between. He wants to know. Maybe one day he’ll know everything about you.

But he answers simply, “You didn't have to. Thank you though.”

“I hope you like strawberry cakes.”

He nods in response and the knot that had formed in your stomach is finally relieved.

You both go inside the museum. After a few hours, once you’ve visited most of it and even have lunch together, you finally make your way to the planetarium area.

As the physics nerd that you are (according to Umi’s words), you’re excited to see what the show will look like. But once you settle into your seat and the lights dim, all thoughts of stars and planets fade away as your attention is captured by the boy sitting next to you. The conversation flows easily and you don’t realise it has started before someone asks you to keep it down.

“Suna-san I was wondering,” — this time you whisper — “you don’t have a Kansai accent, were you born in Hyogo?”

Rintarou leans in closer to hear you better, causing your heart rate to spike — too close, too close, you want to protest.

"I was actually born in Tokyo. Moved there when I was six. What about you?"

He tells your name and you think it falls perfectly on his tongue.

“I was born in Kobe but my dad is from Fukushima. Sometimes when I'm with my cousins from my mum's side, I pick up a bit of their accent.”

He starts laughing and despite your protests about disturbing the audience, he can't seem to stop. Another warning comes from a nearby visitor, you place your hands on his face in an attempt to get him to focus (on you, on you).

“Rintarou, stop that already.”

You are only a few inches away now, your fingers cup perfectly the lines of his face as if they had been carved for it. You have an ideal view of his eyes (they’re so green), and lips (the most beautiful shade of pink), and nose (so delicate, it almost looks like it’s made of porcelain). Right at this moment, you truly believe he is going to be the death of you. For his part, he doesn't seem bothered by the proximity at all, "I would pay good money to hear your Kansai accent," he teases. Imagining you talking the way the Miya twins do seems to amuse him.

You quickly pull back and cross your arms. Buried in your seat, you try to regain your composure.

“How dare you mock me, stupid Suna.”

“Oh, so it’s not Rintarou anymore?”

All of your efforts to maintain a cool exterior crumble with that last sentence.

But before you can respond, an annoyed voice interrupts. "Kids, if you don't shut up right now, I'll call security."

“Kids?” Suna raises an eyebrow at the older man, not intimidated in the slightest.

Despite being considered rather small for a middle blocker and not appearing particularly strong, there's something about him that makes you feel safe and protected (and he is still over 6’ tall after all). So when he gets up and looks down at the man, you feel a cold shiver running down your spine (note to yourself: Suna Rintarou can be scary outside of the court too).

You move reflexively and gently brush his fingers with your own. Without realising it, you start tracing a path from his fingertips — rough and calloused, the result of years of training — to the palm of his hand — where the cracks soften and almost feel like honey under your touch. You haven’t even intertwined your fingers with his, still, this is the closest you have ever been to taking his hand. It should be a simple touch, it only lasts for a fleeting seconds but it’s enough to start a fire inside your heart. You forget how to breathe as if you were being strangled by the smoke but your mind begs to you draw in for more. Inhale. Suffocate.

You don’t feel him tremble from the touch.

“Suna-san…” you call his name in a hushed voice and try to calm him down. “It’s fine.”

He clears his throat and puts his hands in his pockets — you already miss him. “Apologies, we got carried away. It won’t happen again,” Suna says with a smile that can only be described as forced. You think he is about to sit back next to you but instead, he calls your name and makes his way to the exit. You apologise politely and follow him, of course, you do. He does not even need to ask you to, his move is enough to guide you out of the planetarium.

Both of you stay quiet for a moment as you walk through the corridors of the museum. If someone had asked you if you were excited to visit this place you would have said yes. However, right now you can’t dismiss the unpleasant tightness that has settled in your heart. You try to hide your slight disappointment by walking a few steps behind him. You really try not to replay what has just happened, but the more you think about it, the more blame you put on yourself for making him feel uncomfortable. You should never have touched him in the first place, you ruminate. What if Suna dislikes you now? What if he never wants to talk to you again? Who could have guessed that you could be so pessimist? You — the girl who usually puts the minimum effort in everything that she does, the girl who tries to stay as far as possible from dramas and unnecessary distractions. The one who never cries, never cares more than she should, never opens her heart to overwhelming emotions. Meeting Suna was enough to crumble everything that the sixteen years you had lived forged in you.

You don’t understand.

“So, Sensei.” He starts saying while stopping in front of what looks like an interactive machine. “How does this…” he squints his eyes to read the sign, “generator work?”

You’re a bit taken aback. The boy in front of you seems to be wearing his usual expression (slacker, unimpressed).

“I need help for the midterms, remember?”, he smiles.

Right, you think. You’re here to help him, nothing more, nothing less.

You blink a few times as you try to make the negative thoughts vanish. “Basically…” you reply, cautiously. “The generator creates static electricity by moving electric charges to the dome. When you touch it, the charges transfer to you, making your hair stand on end."

Suna nods, his eyes fixed not on the machine, but on you.

"So, the electrons build up on the dome," you continue to avoid his gaze and mechanically expound what you have learnt in class, "and when they have nowhere else to go, they leap to the nearest conductor. That's why you get a shock. It's all about the movement of electrons creating a current. For the midterms, I think you should -” You finally take a look at him. Although his eyes are on you, he seems absent. “You’re not listening, aren’t you?”

He lets out a small cough, snapping out of his thoughts. "Yeah, sorry. It's just... you make it sound so interesting."

You open your mouth, a bit flustered but immediately take a step back. "Well, I hope it's making sense."

"It is," he leans over, getting a better look at your face.

Suna has learnt his lesson. He knows you easily become flustered when he gets close to you. He did it in the planetarium, he loves to do it in the library when the two of you are studying. In these moments, he can’t help but think about how pretty you are. But this time, something is off with you.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Did I say something wrong?”

Now you feel bad for making him worried, you want to reassure him so you shake your head, “No… absolutely not. I’m sorry Suna-san, I should be the one apologising.” Your body moves on instinct and you take another step back. But Rintarou is more stubborn than you think and the more space you create, the closer he wants to get.

“You already are.”

His teasing grin doesn’t help you overcome your gloomy mood.

“What are you sorry for anyway?”

Suna wants this conversation to be over soon, he wants your usual self to come back and explain more scientific concepts to him — not that he cares about these concepts, he just loves how serious and captivated you look.

His tone is more pissed than before so you decide to surrender, “I took your hand in the - in the planetarium. That was weird, I shouldn’t have done it.”

You’re searching for anything in the room that could distract your gaze from falling on him. Your hands sweat and you don’t know if it is from the void his fingers have left on yours or from the embarrassment you feel from the current situation.

“Did you hate it that much?”

You build up some courage and finally decide to look up to meet his eyes. They’re sharp, like always, but you also catch the sight of a certain intensity that shows nothing but sincerity.

“’Cause I didn’t.”

Your heart skips a beat and before you can justify yourself, apologise, again, for misexplaining the situation — because you certainly did not hate it either — he takes your hand in his.

“I actually enjoyed it. You can do it again, whenever you want.”

This single move makes you forget about your sweaty hands and tightened heart. There’s a chuckle, first from you, then from him. You inch a little bit closer — not too much, you might get burned by the heat that radiates from your two bodies. You close your eyes and for what feels like an infinite amount of minutes — remember your whole perception of time has been shattered today — you just focus and lean into his scent. He smells like pumpkin spices and wet wood, one that has been washed by the rain. It reminds you of autumn (if you never liked summer and winter, then starting today, autumn can become your favourite season).

“Ladies and Gentlemen”, his grip loosens at the sound of the speakers, “we gently remind you that the Kobe Museum of Science is about to close in ten minutes, please make your way to the exit. We thank you for your visit and hope you will come back again.”

There’s a disappointment that the day is coming to a close. You wonder if he feels the same way, if he enjoyed your company as much as you did. The silence between you is comfortable yet you wish you could find a way to convey your feelings into words.

“Thank you for today,” you finally say, breaking the quiet moment.

Suna turns to you, his gaze steady, “No, thank you,” he replies softly. “I had a great time and the cake looks very good.”

You smile shyly, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest. “I’m glad.”

You go through the shop together. You take advantage of a moment of inattention from him to buy him a planet key ring. Little did you know, Suna also got you something. You laugh as you exchange your gifts. Despite him complaining about how you already gave him the cake, he accepts the present.

“Why Mars though?”

You don’t tell him that Mars is the god of war and fire and that the latter reminds you of him. You don’t tell him that if you had gotten yourself a key ring you would have chosen Venus for they have loved and consumed each other passionately. You prefer cutting out the topic by saying the colour of the planet, red, would fit with his volleyball jacket (you also try to overlook the fact that Venus and Mars never got a happy ending). He thanks you again.

There’s a pause as you both stand outside the museum. You’re about to say goodbye but he interrupts.

“I was wondering if…” Suna starts, then stops abruptly as if unsure of how to continue.

“What is it?”

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, “Maybe we should come back here. But… not as friends.”

You look at him confused, “Do you get what I am saying?”

Your heart is racing too fast to come up with anything so you shake your head.

“What I mean is-” he stops again, not because he is annoyed, but because he needs to. The sound of his heartbeats is going up to his temples. It’s pounding louder and louder. No volleyball game ever had this effect on him, ever. He scratches the back of his neck, “Do you want to go out with me?”

You don’t think your mind has ever been this quick to make a decision. You can’t remember what you said exactly, perhaps, “I’d love to.” Or “it would be a pleasure Suna-san.” It doesn’t matter anyway. What you remember is that your cheeks hurt so much from grinning you fear you might get cramps.

Rintarou takes a moment to admire your smile, he thinks there is sunlight in it.

When you go home that night, you realise your room is the same: your bed is still neatly made, the books on the shelf are exactly as you left them, and the faint scent of that lavender softener your mother uses still lingers in the air. Yet, everything inside you feels different. Your heart beats with a new rhythm filled with the warmth of Suna's fingers. The quiet corners of your mind are now bustling with his words.

You swear (“on my life, Umi”) that you wanted to call your best friend as soon as you sat on your bed but Morpheus had other plans for you and you fell asleep in the blink of an eye.

So the next day, during lunch, when you tell her about your newfound relationship, even if she pouts at first because “why didn’t you tell me yesterday ? Or this morning?”, she falls into your arms and hugs you tightly.

“I’m so happy for your though, I might even be the happiest one here.”

Gods know she’s wrong, so wrong, there is no way she could be happier than you, no one in the world could. But you don’t tell her that, you only thank her and chuckle.

“I’ll tell Gin he was wrong then.”

You frown, puzzled, “wrong about?”

“He thought you would date Osamu.”

You suddenly choke on your food. How would a guy that you barely know (Gin) see you with another guy (Osamu) with whom the amount of conversations you have shared can be counted on the fingers of a hand?

“Osamu is…” you hesitate after taking a sip of water “kind.”

“Yeah don’t worry, I already told him that you only had eyes for Sunarin.” she shakes her hands to defend herself.

You’re about to growl; you hate when your life is exposed to random people (that includes absolutely everyone at school except for Umi and Suna), but she’s quicker than you and grabs your shoulders.

“There’s the sports festival in a few days and you’re on the same team as Osamu for the relay race so you’ll get to know him. You’ll see he’s very very kind, much kinder even, I would say.” she crosses her arms and you know she secretly wants to add “much kinder compared to her stupid brother.”

“Indeed, I will see.” You conclude as you lay your head on her shoulder. She is initially a bit surprised, as you’re not usually a fan of displays of affection. Perhaps this relationship with Suna will bring out the best in you — a softer, more vulnerable side, she hopes. But there is this strange feeling that accompanies the joy, one that settles in her chest and that will never leave her afterwards — she tries to forget about it.

You finally close your eyes and appreciate the calmness that has invaded your body.

At this moment, sitting next to your very best friend, you think life is made of wet wood and fire.

author notes: my hearts melts for them <3 enjoy the fluff while it’s here 🫣 see you next friday! lots of love

Elie