i would like to take a moment to appreciate how Din Djarin has mastered the art of loving someone and yet being able to let them go. of loving without attachment.
that is…… very jedi of him

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i would like to take a moment to appreciate how Din Djarin has mastered the art of loving someone and yet being able to let them go. of loving without attachment.
that is…… very jedi of him

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TE AMO FRANKELDA. En efecto, es arte 🫡
Another Spook Month art of the bois :3c

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“Es increíble. Si, ella lo es”
Escrito por: Himevampirechan
-Procustes es… envidioso.- Le había dicho. Y cuando Frankelda buscó desesperadamente su consuelo, Herneval no dudó en ser sincero.
Su dedo pisa la cuerda equivocada del instrumento al recordar que, en ese instante, casi la besa.
-Quizás demasiado sincero.- piensa abochornado. La joven escritora, demasiado ocupada en narrar su más reciente historia, no nota su error.
Para el príncipe de los sustos los últimos días habían sido un remolino de emociones; sin embargo, no recordaba la última vez que se había sentido tan dichoso.
El pasar el tiempo con Frankelda, llevarla a conocer su reino, convivir con su gente era más que una parte de sus planes. Era cumplir una fantasía que tenía desde pequeño.
Sin importar que Mitélitas es como un hermano para él, Herneval había crecido demasiado rápido en un mundo de adultos. Vivir la crisis del reino de los sustos y el terror de perder a su padres, le habían dado la empatía necesaria para comprender la solitaria infancia de Francisca Imelda.
Cuando, siendo niño, se escabullía debajo de su cama para leer imaginaba con regularidad lo qué pasaría si ella despertara y lo viera: ¿Se escondería con él? ¿Le harían bromas a su abuela? ¿Correrían dentro de la cocina para robar pan dulce y comerlo sin permiso en el cementerio?
Herneval sonríe melancólicamente ante las incontables fantasías donde hacía llorar a sus crueles compañeros de escuela, asustandolos por burlarse de ella.
Teniéndola enfrente de él, gesticulando apasionadamente cada diálogo de su cuento, le sigue pareciendo ridículo que alguien negara alguna vez del talento de su escritora.
- Entonces tras ser convertido, Gnomo se dio cuenta que su vida como Nemo no había sido tan mala. Fin - Concluye Frankelda sujetando la libreta sobre su regazo y reclinándose hacía él con una sonrisa macabra.
-¡Es increíble!- exclama él sintiendo como las plumas de sus alas se erizan con emoción y colocando su instrumento a un lado.
-Gracias- responde ella, desviando ligeramente la mirada y colocando un mechón de cabello tras su oreja. Herneval se congela, hipnotizado por el ligero sonrojo en el femenino rostro.
Ambos saltan, sorprendidos por una repentina explosión en el cielo. Por un instante, la joven cubre sus oídos pero su expresión se ilumina cuando los brillantes colores de los fuegos artificiales les rodean.
Herneval le sonríe, y haciendo un gesto con su mano la invita a mirar por el balcón. Se sientan uno al lado del otro, mientras él le explica en susurros los significados de cada explosión.
Una risita se le escapa a la joven cuando las chispas rojas dibujan algo parecido a su rostro y, aunque el espectáculo es increíble, Herneval no puede desviar sus ojos de ella.
Tiene un rostro pequeño pero expresivo. Frankelda no teme mostrar sus emociones y tiene la sonrisa más contagiosa; ha sido todo un placer descubrir que sus súbditos, igual que él, son incapaces de resistirse a ella.
Sus ojos son grandes e inteligentes. El príncipe puede deducir, por el brillo de sus ojos, cuando su imaginación la ha llevado lejos. Exactamente como en ese instante.
Herneval levanta su mano y acaricia su mejilla. La escritora vuelve el rostro, como buscando el contacto de sus dedos y tras dedicarle una tierna sonrisa regresa su atención al espectáculo.
Frankelda le había devuelto la esperanza de curar a sus padres, salvar a su pueblo y no volver a sentirse solo.
Con el corazón latiendo frenético en su pecho, el susto se acerca y Frankelda se reclina, inconscientemente, contra su hombro. Permanecen ahí juntos, mirando al cielo incluso cuando ya no hay más luces por ver.
Con un suspiro Herneval deja caer su mejilla contra la cabeza de la joven, quien escribe en su libreta de cuero con renovada inspiración.
-Solo espero estar haciendo lo correcto.- piensa cerrando los ojos y escuchando el rasgar de la pluma de Frankelda contra el papel.
----
No me habia podido sacar de la cabeza la idea de este oneshot desde que vi la película. Asi que, espero lo disfruten.
It's incredible. Yes, she is.”
Written by: Himevampirechan
‘Procustes is... envious,’ he had told her. And when Frankelda desperately sought his comfort, Herneval did not hesitate to be honest.
His finger hits the wrong string on the instrument as he remembers that, at that moment, he almost kissed her.
‘Perhaps too honest,’ he thinks, embarrassed. The young writer, too busy narrating her latest story, does not notice his mistake.
For the prince of spooks, the last few days had been a whirlwind of emotions; however, he could not remember the last time he had felt so happy.
Spending time with Frankelda, taking her to see his kingdom, being with his people was more than just part of his plans. It was fulfilling a fantasy he had had since childhood.
Regardless of the fact that Mitélitas is like a brother to him, Herneval had grown up too quickly in a world of adults. Experiencing the crisis in the kingdom of spooks and the terror of losing his parents had given him the empathy necessary to understand Francisca Imelda's lonely childhood.
When, as a child, he would sneak under her bed to read, he would often imagine what would happen if she woke up and saw him: Would she hide with him? Would they play pranks on her grandmother? Would they run into the kitchen to steal candy and eat it without permission in the cemetery?
Herneval smiles wistfully at the countless fantasies in which he made her cruel schoolmates cry, scaring them for mocking her.
With her in front of him, gesturing passionately with each line of her story, it still seems ridiculous to him that anyone would ever deny her talent as a writer.
‘Then, after being converted, Gnome realised that his life as Nemo hadn't been so bad. The end,’ concludes Frankelda, holding the notebook on her lap and leaning towards him with a macabre smile.
‘It's incredible!’ he exclaims, feeling the feathers on his wings bristle with excitement and placing his instrument aside.
‘Thank you,’ she replies, looking away slightly and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Herneval freezes, mesmerised by the slight blush on her face.
They both jump, startled by a sudden explosion in the sky. For a moment, the young woman covers her ears, but her expression lights up when the bright colours of the fireworks surround them.
Herneval smiles at her and gestures with his hand, inviting her to look out onto the balcony. They sit side by side as he whispers the meanings of each explosion to her.
A giggle escapes the young woman when the red sparks form something resembling his face, and although the spectacle is incredible, Herneval cannot take his eyes off her.
She has a small but expressive face. Frankelda is not afraid to show her emotions and has the most contagious smile; it has been a pleasure to discover that his subjects, like him, are unable to resist her.
Her eyes are large and intelligent. The prince can tell from the sparkle in her eyes when her imagination has carried her away. Just like at that moment.
Herneval raises his hand and caresses her cheek. The writer turns her face, as if seeking the touch of his fingers, and after giving him a tender smile, she returns her attention to the spectacle.
Frankelda had given him back his hope of healing his parents, saving his people, and never feeling alone again.
With his heart beating frantically in his chest, the spook approaches and Frankelda unconsciously leans against his shoulder. They remain there together, looking up at the sky even when there are no more lights to see.
With a sigh, Herneval lets his cheek fall against the young woman's head, who writes in her leather notebook with renewed inspiration.
‘I just hope I'm doing the right thing,’ he thinks, closing his eyes and listening to the scratching of Frankelda's pen against the paper.
inuyasha moments that make me giggle
Mastermind
Idk why making the jump into actually writing fanfiction is making me so nervous guys
I get that! But I support and would be happy to read what you write! You got this!

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#she's so silly
tower fics are so back baby
the queen of Ithaca!
Who needs comedy when you’re apart of this fandom 😂
My friend sent me this post and said it was Sun core so y'all know what I had to do.... 🤭😭✍️

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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would you still love me again?
Odysseus short king? Yes