#OTP: Windswept

[aylaaescar]

Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am home again Whenever I'm alone with you You make me feel like I am whole again

Ayla Aescar ( @shepherds-of-haven ) and my own MC/Brightburner, Tysinno Maratis, as drawn by the wonderful and incredibly talented @serahlink. :') OTP of OTPs at the moment, I could talk about them for days if given half a chance and I'm not afraid to do it

if you're looking for an artist to commission, I can't recommend Link enough! he's amazingly talented and a delight to work with, and the money goes to the worthwhile cause of keeping his family afloat 🖤💕🖤

[karahalloway]

Book 1 - (Un)Common Attraction

Harper Gale - a small-town girl from Montana - takes a leap of faith and jets off to Cordonia to join Prince Christian's social season. But does she actually want to become the queen of a small European country? Or will her heart have other ideas? An AU take of TRR1 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Book 2 - (Less Than) Noble Intentions [In Progress]

The social season may be over, but Harper Gale's problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Lone Star State [Coming Soon!]

A prequel series to (Un)Common Attraction detailing Drake’s escapades at the Walker Ranch in Texas during his final year of university.

Polo!

Drake gets roped into playing a charity polo match when one of the other team members doesn’t show for the game… What can possibly go wrong? One-shot set before the start of (Un)Common Attraction.

Thanksgiving [In Progress]

Harper and Drake fly to Bozeman, MT to spend their first Thanksgiving together with Harper’s family. Mini-series that takes place after the events of (Less Than) Noble Intentions.

A Winged Wish

On a special December night in the lead-up to Christmas, Harper has a tough choice to make... One-shot written for 2021 Choices Twelve Days of Fictmas.

Uncharted: Tales from the Gypsea

A collection of standalone one-shots chronicling Harper and Drake’s honeymoon adventures around the Mediterranean. Set after the events of (Less Than) Noble Intentions.

Sleepless in New York

What if Drake met Harper on the first night of Prince Christian's New York bachelor party? A standalone AU written from Drake’s POV.

A Leviathan Surprise

Maxwell unveils a larger than life surprise for Bertrand’s 30th birthday. A Maxwell Beaumont Appreciation Week 2023 one-shot.

A (Slightly Awkward) Reunion

After Bertrand discovers that he has a son, he works up the courage to see Savannah. But an important conversation is very rudely interrupted… A Smut-Tember 2021 one-shot.

Camping Was Intense

Harper organises (another) surprise birthday party for Drake that doesn’t end up going as planned… Two-parter written for Drake’s Birthday Bash 2021.

Mission: Cordonia [In Progress]

Harper's jewelry heist on the night of the Beaumont Bash goes wrong... TRR and Mission:Impossible II mash-up (that turned into a mini-series) written for @choicesprompts’ Rewrite Challenge.

The Highwayman

On one dark, windswept night, a highwayman's luck runs out... My submission for @choicesprompts' Song Rewrite Challenge that turned into a mini-series.

Mardi Gras Madness

The TRR lads celebrate Maxwell’s 21st birthday in New Orleans during Mardi Gras. What could possibly go wrong? Collaborative project written in tandem with three other writers.

One Step Ahead

Nothing is as it seems in this fast-paced thriller. A really fun round robin collaboration I participated in with several other TRR fic writers here on Tumblr in 2022.

One Night In Cordonia

It’s night of the Beaumont Bash, and there’s more than one surprise in store for the unsuspecting guests! Another fun round robin collaboration hosted by @choicesprompts in 2023.

Sex Bomb

It's the night of Leo's coronation, but the young prince has bigger worries. One-shot follow-up to my submission for One Night in Cordonia written for Smut-tember 2023.

Isle of Misfits

Bertrand starts a PR firm… for celebrities. What can possibly go wrong? A cross-fandom round robin hosted by @choicesprompts in 2024.

Take a peek inside Harper & Drake’s Scrapbook for OTP Asks, Moodboards, Edits and other fun stuff!

[e-wills-afterhours]

Taking Initiative

A/N: Shameless OTP fluff. Takes place maybe a few months after GOTNF.

Pairing: Hiccstrid

Rating: F...for Fluff. Also K+.

...K for Kissing.

This feels like deja vu. I think I've written almost this exact same fic and it just didn't survive my previous fandom exodus. I guess...here it is again? But better.

---------------

Astrid did not have a name for what evolved between her and Hiccup. A few short months ago, any sort of camaraderie between them was an impossibility. He was a feckless disaster, and she was far too concerned with war; her priorities were in proper order, to be fair. She never found him interesting and could not imagine they had much to talk about—then so much changed so fast. Berk was almost unrecognizable now, and so were they.

She and her friends could have fun and be kids. They laughed, flew their dragons for hours, and spent careless afternoons in the sun without fear that fire and death came in the evening. She allowed herself to get close to Hiccup, because there were no distractions and no more pretenses; she truly saw him, and it was disarming.

She never realized how clever he was, smarter and more quick-witted than anyone she knew. His unconventional methods—once thought to be so grating and ridiculous—were downright brilliant more often than not. He could build things with a speed and a talent she never before appreciated. She used to think his mild-mannered ways were a weakness, back when ferocious dragons lurked in the shadows; she now understood that it was his strength. He was much more diplomatic and thoughtful than the rest of her friends, that he made a great confidante and gave solid advice, whether or not she asked him for it.

Yes, they were friends. In fact, she went so far as to call him her best friend—but there were times that cup ran over, and in those moments, she kissed him. What else could she do? He could be so ineffably wonderful that she had to let him know, because he never saw it in himself otherwise.

One would assume kissing made them some kind of official something, but two quick pecks did not a fully actualized relationship make. She never asked him, because she was uncertain whether she wanted to know his answer. Was there a word when feelings and friendship developed together? If there was, she never heard it, and Hiccup did not speak it. He never asked for clarity, taking her impromptu kisses in stride without asking why. Perhaps, he was just as terrified of an answer as she was.

At least, he was for a time.

Racing each other at top speed around the island on their dragons always left them windswept and charged with adrenaline. Hiccup won, because he had a Night Fury; beating him was an impossible task, and probably the only time she did not mind failing. They recounted the thrilling chase as she penned Stormfly for the night; Toothless, on the other hand, enjoyed free rein of Berk.

"One of these days, I'm going to win," she told Hiccup, nudging him with her shoulder as they made their way to dinner together; she would sit beside him, because there was no one else whose company she preferred.

"Maybe if I let you," he replied, grinning.

"Don't you dare!" This time, she aimed an affectionate punch to his arm.

The contact was light, but he rubbed his arm anyway, more from habit than anything else.

"You know, Astrid, you're determined enough that if anyone could, it would be you. I've always admired that about you."

She felt her heart beat a little faster. His compliments landed better than anyone else's ever had. Her pace slowed and he followed her lead, matching her cadence.

"That's not the only thing you admire about me," she teased, with a coy smirk. They were sixteen, and friends or not, there were other powers at work whether Hiccup would admit it or not.

His face turned a noticeable shade of pink beneath all of his freckles. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Okay, now, that's not fair."

She laughed and grasped his elbow to keep him from fleeing, as he sometimes did when a situation turned the least bit awkward. "I'm joking!"

"Are you, though? Sometimes, I can't tell," he said, but he was smiling right along with her. "What am I going to do with you?"

They were no longer walking, and Astrid could not recall when they stopped. She was, however, aware of how close they were standing. While she did not think it was wrong to notice how green his eyes were, friends did not typically look at each other that way. They almost assuredly were not supposed to notice the rather pleasing way the other person was filling out—but he was, and they were the same height now; and oh gods, did she notice. Perhaps there was more truth in her teasing than even she cared to admit.

"Hiccup, I—"

She was not sure what she was going to say in that moment, but it was a coherent thought. At least, it had been. Before Hiccup kissed her.

One moment they were standing there, teasing each other. The next, his lips were on hers, gentle and warm. Her brain seized up. She could not get it unstuck while her heart was doing backflips and screaming with joy. The kiss was not a peck, nor an intrusive bid for more; it was a statement, a declaration.

Too soon for her liking, he pulled away, though he did not go far. Their lips were still close enough to share a breath between them—had they any left to spare. Both of them hung on the moment, not moving, not saying anything. Her hands were on his chest, clutching his tunic. She was not sure when that happened. Beneath her fists, she could feel his heart pounding away with a fervor to match her own.

In his eyes was the same question that haunted them for months: the one she did not dare to ask so he would not dare answer. But he was asking it then, and she was compelled to respond to ease the anxiety she felt in his gaze.

They were best friends—and they were also much more. She wanted it, and now she knew with absolute certainty that he did too.

She moved a hand from his chest to the back of his head in what she hoped was as clear a signal as any.

"Do that again," she murmured, in case he still had any doubts.

He smiled, his relief palpable; and his hand on her lower back sent delightful tingles up her spine. When they kissed again, it was confident and sure. He was hers, and she was his; and they were them—and there was no guesswork left to muddy the waters.

Astrid decided then and there that his initiative was just one more thing to love about him.

[the-iceni-bitch]

The Bitch is Back

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader (OTP)

Words: ~2.8k

Summary: You run into Ransom’s cunt of an ex again and it goes about as well as expected.

Warnings: explicit language, Ransom looking like a whole snack, fluff, that blonde bitch, Linda being a cunt, extremely abusive language and allusions to past emotional abuse, more angst than I had intended, my undying love for these two idiots, too many feelings

A/N: I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her! Sorry everyone, the angst took over this one and what I had intended to be another fun romp a la Girl Fight turned into a pit of emotion that I couldn’t dig myself out of. I’m gonna go cry.

“Baby, you know we can just go home, right?” Ransom gave you a tired but indulgent smile when he looked at you, tucking his fingers under your chin and tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes while you swallowed thickly.

“No, I’m not gonna give your mother the satisfaction of seeing me duck out of this thing.” You got that stubborn set to your jaw that told him to quit trying to take care of you, because proving to his bitch mother you could actually make it through one of these stupid events without causing some kind of scene was more important than your comfort right now.

You felt bile rise in your throat and swallowed it again. This was fucking ridiculous, you weren’t even on a boat, just the dock. But you still felt like you were going to vomit at any second, watching the motion of the boats rocking on the water making your gut lurch. It almost made you wonder if Linda knew about your stomach’s aversion to being on water when she had insisted on the two of you attending their fucking sailing club’s final regatta. 

“Here we go, one scopolamine patch.” You could’ve kissed Anne when she handed it to you, grateful that Ben’s boat was moored in this marina so you didn’t have to spend the rest of this stupid thing constantly swallowing your own vomit. “Why didn’t you bring your own?”

“She said she’d be fine if she didn’t actually go on the boats.” Ransom ignored the glare you shot him when he talked to Anne over your head, rubbing your arm softly when he pulled you closer to him.

“Did I tell you how much I hate that you two get along?” You frowned when Ransom pressed his lips to your hair, slapping the patch on your neck and sighing when you felt your stomach start to settle.

Anne just laughed at you, shaking her head as she sipped on her cocktail and leaned against Ben. The fact that this guy actually treated you like you deserved did a lot to endear him to her, even if he was an asshole sometimes.

You had been worried at first about introducing Anne to Ransom’s idiot friends, no matter how much they had grown on you. But your friend could hold her own, her no nonsense attitude endearing her to the girls as she chewed out Logan for some dumbass comment while Dylan and Chaz just chuckled that now there were two of you.

This was one of the few things that you actually felt out of your element with, since you could not give a single fuck about sailing with your stupid seasickness. But you could tell Ran was enjoying himself, and every fucking time he got near the water he looked so fucking windswept and dreamy so it was well worth the nausea. That was all gone now though, the scopolamine making you feel just the tiniest bit drowsy and pleasantly warm while Ran pulled you tight against his chest as he whistled for his team’s boat between nuzzling himself into your hair with pleased little hums. Even Linda giving you some vicious side eye couldn’t break you out of your good mood, the warmth of Ransom wrapped around you like a balm for your typical nervous energy. Then you heard Jess mutter an “oh shit” and the sound of a bratty, whiny voice broke right through your pleasant haze and made your spine stiffen.

“Rannie?” That fucking blonde bitch would show up to something like this, just to ruin your day. “I thought that was you. Oh, still with your tramp, I see.”

“Sloane.” His grip around you grew almost painfully tight, growling into your neck as he did his best to take deep breaths. “Don’t you have some puppies to skin, or something?”

You grabbed his hand and wound your fingers through his as you felt him tense up, pressing your lips to the inside of his wrist in an attempt to help him calm down. It had been your sincere hope that after you beat the shit out of this cunt you would never have to see her again, but when had you ever been that lucky?

“Aww, Rannie, thought you couldn’t talk without this bitch’s permission.” She looked mildly uncomfortable when you shifted your gaze to her, your eyes narrowing in a warning that she chose to ignore. “Been missing you a whole lot, baby, when’re you gonna stop slumming around?”

“What the fuck do you want, Sloane?” You were chanting over and over in your head that you were not going to fight this cunt, catching Anne starting to square up from the corner of your eye and giving her a small shake of the head to get her to stand down.

“I’m not talking to you, slut.” She must’ve been drunk, you had definitely taught her her lesson last time. “Just because you can give this bastard a good, sloppy fuck doesn’t mean you get to keep him. You don’t know what he really needs, and he’s too fucking stupid to tell you. God, you’re only sticking with him because he’s such a good fuck, right? That’s like, his only redeeming quality, except for the money. And you and your low class pussy don’t even know what to do with such a fine piece of eye candy.”

“Ok, you need to leave, Sloane.” Ransom may have been full of the anxiety he always felt around his ex, but the way your whole body was wound tight like a spring let him know you were ready to get violent. So he pressed a brief, soothing kiss to your hair and moved to guide this drunk bitch away from another beating.

“Don’t you fucking touch me, god, you really are a fucking moron.” Sloane jerked away from him when he tried to guide her away from your group, turning and sneering derisively at him. “Fuck’s sake, Linda was right, she really should have aborted you so we wouldn’t have to deal with your stupid bull shit.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” You reached your arm out to grip Ransom’s shoulder on instinct when he recoiled like he had been slapped, pulling him towards you protectively as you stared disbelieving at the people around you. “What the fuck did she just say?”

Sloane was just grinning at you wickedly as she sipped on her drink, like she had never and would never do anything wrong in her life. You almost forgot your promise you’d made to not get yourself kicked out of this event, but then Ran was clutching at your waist and making a choked sound and you turned back to him with concern.

There was no one to hold back Anne though, and she hadn’t made any promises about being on her best behavior. So she handed Ben her purse and punched that bitch right in the jaw.

You just gave a grateful look to your best friend before she bitch slapped that twat, security already starting to rush towards the fight as you guided Ransom towards the parking lot while he tried to regulate his breathing.

“Baby? Hey, Ran, look at me.” You’d never seen him look so completely lost, his eyes glistening with pent up emotion when you finally got him to look at you and you felt your heart break. “Oh honey, can you make it to the car?” He just nodded at you as another strangled sob escaped his throat and every fiber of your being ached to give him some form of comfort. “Ok, gimme the keys.”

He handed them to you and you wound your arm around him to guide him towards the beemer, letting him lean heavily on your shoulder and murmuring soft, soothing noises to him as you tried to think of something you could do for him. You knew that bitch was an abusive piece of work but Ran had been so hesitant to talk about it and you didn’t want to push him about it before he was ready, but if the way he reacted to her barb was any indication of how she treated him you might end up killing that bitch.

Ransom’s breathing seemed even more ragged by the time you reached the beemer, barely giving you a chance to shove the front seat down so the two of you could climb into the back and you could instruct him to stretch out over your lap. Your own throat was starting to get tight when he let out a wretched sob, the fingers of one hand running through his hair while the other smoothed over his chest as you watched his face closely.

“Baby, I need you to breathe for me, ok?” You were trying your best to keep your voice low and even, taking a deep breath and waiting for him to mirror your actions until he was pressing his face to your stomach with a piteous whine once his breathing had regulated slightly. “That’s it, you’re doing so good, Ran, just keep breathing.” 

He sighed deeply when you continued murmuring soft words of praise to him, his fingers curling over yours on his chest as he looked up at you and felt the softness of your gaze spread like warmth through his body. 

“I’m sorry.” He moaned when you pulled gently on his hair, his voice raspy with the tears he’d managed to swallow.

“No, baby.” You curled over him and brushed your lips over his forehead, trying not to cry when he wrapped his arms around your neck and let out another shaky breath. “You don’t apologize, ever, you hear me?”

“I thought I was over this shit.” He buried his face in your neck and breathed deep, your warm scent washing over him and finally making him relax. “I don’t want to put this on you.”

“Listen to me, Ransom.” You pulled back a little so you could gaze into his eyes, resting your forehead against his and maneuvering until you were laying next to him across the backseat. “I don’t know if you really think I’m just with you for the sex or what, but when I say I love you, I fucking mean it. I love all of you, so much, and that means that you can put all of it on me, ok? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Fuck, I love you, too.” He whined when you pressed your lips to his gently, drinking you in and pulling you to him as tight as possible when you let him deepen the kiss. “Need you so much.”

“I know, Ransom, I’m here.” You moved your lips up to his cheeks when he finally let his tears start to fall, kissing each one that stained his cheeks as you splayed your body over his while he held you. “My sweet boy, it’s ok. Let go for me, baby.”

He buried his face in your shoulder and did as you asked. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, but you could feel the warm wetness of his tears against the bare flesh of your neck while his chest heaved against yours. You cooed soft words of encouragement into his hair as he wept, letting a few of your own tears fall as you felt the tension slowly seep from his body.

Neither of you were sure how long you laid there tangled with each other, but eventually Ransom felt the last of the pain drain out of him until he was sinking against the seat with exhaustion. Having you there with him was like a balm for his soul, the way your eyes moved to search his once you felt him let out a deep sigh making his lips quirk in a small smile. His eyes were brilliantly blue from the tears he had shed, but you could see a glimmer of something hopeful there, and that made you relax. You sighed when he framed your face with his hands and pulled your lips back to his, the kiss chaste but full of emotion that he was too exhausted to vocalize at the moment.

“You ready to go home?” You pressed your hand over his heart when you leaned back a little, glad to feel that it had slowed down to a normal rhythm as he nodded for you. “Ok, you just stay back here and rest, alright? When we get home I’m gonna draw us a nice bath and we’ll just spend the rest of the day vegging.”

“That sounds good.” He watched you climb back into the front seat with a deep breath, squeezing your hand when you let it linger on his chest before letting you pull it away with reluctance.

You peeked at him through the rear view mirror before pulling out, relieved when you watched his eyes drift closed as he sagged into the seat and let his exhaustion take over. It almost hurt you how much you loved that man, and if you ever saw that cunt who hurt him again, there was a good chance you were going to jail for him.

Ransom was still dozing by the time you pulled up to the house, but he roused quickly when he felt you shake him awake. He let you help him out of the car and smiled warmly at you when you brought your hand up to cup his jaw, humming contentedly when you let him bury his face in your hair as you guided him into the house.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek once you were inside and instructed him to go to the en suite while you got some wine, watching him closely as he headed up the stairs before moving to grab a good bottle from the rack. There was a buzzing from your purse and you pulled out your phone, texting Anne that everything was ok and no, you didn’t need her to smash that bitch’s windows in. She was detailing all the ways she was going to fuck that cunt up and making you chuckle when suddenly the last caller ID you expected flashed across your screen.

“Can I help you with something, Linda?” You poured the Syrah into a decanter and moved to grab a couple of glasses, curious why exactly she was calling you.

“Y/N…” she sounded massively uncomfortable but you could not bring yourself to give a single fuck. “I just… I heard what Sloane said and I wanted to make sure Ransom was alright. He wasn’t answering my calls though.”

“Good for him.” You chewed on your lip as you considered what you wanted to say to her. “Was she lying?”

“What?”

“Did you tell your own child you should have aborted him? Or was that abusive cunt you kept forcing down your son’s throat being a lying bitch?” 

“I never… I didn’t tell him.” She still sounded like she thought she was in the right, and you might have spit in her face if she was in front of you.

“Oh, but you said it, didn’t you?” You sneered and downed the glass of wine you’d poured when you saw her number pop up. She didn’t deny it, and you quickly moved to pour yourself another glass. “You’re a fucking piece of work, Linda.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” You could  practically hear her spine straightening over the phone and you rolled your eyes at her. “You don’t know what it was like trying to raise him. Stubborn and spoiled and…”

“Goodbye, Linda. Don’t fucking call either of us again.” You hung up before she could continue, tossing your phone across the counter and draining your glass before grabbing the decanter and glasses before heading upstairs.

“Hey, baby.” He was already soaking when you walked into the steam filled en suite, his head leaning back against the edge of the drop in tub and giving you a lazy grin. “You have trouble picking a wine?”

“No.” You set the decanter and glasses on the tray at the tub’s edge and pinned your hair off your neck before getting undressed and sliding into the water with him. “I had to talk to your mother.” 

“Oh, you had to?” He pulled you against his chest and sighed when you tucked your face into his neck.

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure she didn’t disturb us for the rest of the weekend.” You took a deep breath when he started trailing his fingers over your spine, the warmth of the water seeping through your body and helping you relax as you sank into him. “You wanna talk about what happened?”

“Later.” His arms wound tightly around you, nuzzling into your hair and breathing in the scent of you that always made him feel like he was home. “Just wanna hold you for now.”

[starlightrows]

Exactly The Way You Are

Pairing: Modern!Boba Fett x fem!reader 

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: EXPLICIT self body shaming, potential body dysmorphia, hurt/comfort, body worship, oral (f receiving), soft!Boba 

Summary: You’re feeling insecure about your body and start changing how you dress in attempt to hide from your negative feelings. Boba is not having any of it. 

AN: Requested by @otp-lovers   

Every single one of you is beautiful, exactly the way you are

Early spring is not usually the optimal time for spending the day at the beach. It’s still too cold to swim, and at times too cloudy to tan. But if you’re heading to the coast to enjoy some fresh air, listen to the waves crash on the beach, and enjoy a bowl of clam chowder it’s perfect! You and two of your girl friends decided to drive out for the day to get some lunch, take a nice long walk and catch up on life. Normally you would have liked to do a day trip like this in the company of your boyfriend Boba, but he’s been exceptionally busy with work the last couple days. 

“You’re tempting me to play hooky and just go with you in that sundress baby,” he pauses by the door taking the time to rake his eyes over your form. 

“You could, I don’t think the girls would mind,” you smile sweetly batting your eyelashes for him knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to say yes. You just wanted to tease him. He groans in response, but shakes his head, also knowing he is not at liberty to accept your offer. So instead he tells you to go enjoy yourself, say hello to your friends for him. 

The drive down to the coast is pleasant with good music, your friends singing and talking and laughing, and the weather is actually even nicer than you expected. And there isn’t even a line to get into your favorite restaurant in the area. After a lovely lunch you and your friends take off your shoes and walk down the beach to dip your toes in the water. 

There are a couple groups of people sunbathing, children splashing in the water, playing volleyball. It’s like summer has come early, you almost wish you’d worn your swimsuit. You and your friends decide to kick off your shoes and wade in the water a bit and take some pictures together. Another group of girls a little ways down the beach also taking pictures and laughing approach your group asking if one of you would be willing to take some group pictures on them, and that they would be happy to return the favor. 

As your friend took one of the girls phones to take some nice group pictures, you stand off to the side and can’t help but stare. These girls all have gorgeous hair, long sleek legs, flat tummies with belly rings, and perky full breasts. Not a blemish on their perfectly tanned skin, though you suspected their tans may be less than authentic given the current time of year. Still you couldn’t help comparing yourself, you felt a bit pudgy in your sundress wishing you had ordered something lighter for lunch, and mentally cursing the wind for blowing your dress around you and making you look bigger and more awkward as opposed to windswept and attractive like these girls. You think about the upcoming summer, and your collection of swimsuits at home… true they’re pretty and comfortable but you wish you could wear and feel confident in the kind of swimsuits these girls are wearing. 

The other group of girls finished up their pictures and you tried your best to appear confident and unbothered when they turned the camera on you and your friends. You didn’t want to bring down the mood, so you plastered on a smile and tried to laugh along with your friends for the remainder of the trip. 

After dropping off your friends you head home, anxious to take a shower and get the sand off of your body. Unfortunately you knew Boba would not be home until very late, so it would just be you for a bit. Oh well, that just means watching whatever you want on tv with no complaint. You shower and wash your hair, taking your time to fully feel clean. Stepping out of the shower and ringing out your hair, you feel a lot better now that there wasn’t sad in places it should not be. 

You cross into the bedroom and slip one of your favorite nighties on to relax for the evening, but when you turn around and catch sight of yourself in the full length mirror you stop and stare at your reflection. You frowned at yourself, turning to your side to catch a glimpse of your profile and finding it no better in your opinion. You turn away from yourself and remove the nighty tossing it unceremoniously onto the chair at your vanity table. Instead you dig out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of Boba’s sweatpants. You look back at yourself in the mirror and shrug your shoulders… good enough… before heading back out into the living room to put on some mindless tv and waste time on instagram and tik tok. 

That was a horrible idea. You spent hours down the social media spiral, looking at pictures and videos of seemingly perfect people with perfect lives and perfect bodies that always seemed to know the perfect thing to say. It made you sick to your stomach. Eventually you fall asleep laying on the couch with the tv still playing. By the time Boba gets home you’re lightly snoring and your arm is hanging off the side of the couch. He chuckles at finding you in such a disheveled state, but takes care to carefully lift you up off the couch and carry you to bed. 

In the morning you wake up to the sounds of him moving around in the bedroom, though he is trying very hard to be quiet and not wake you up. He notices you stirring and returns to the bed to sit next to you. He’s fully dressed, ready to head out again. 

“Hey,” he whispers, stroking your hair. You smile sleepily at him, and mumble some kind of greeting. “I’m just about to head out. I’ll be home late again tonight, try to go to bed before you pass out on the couch,” he teases. You scrunch up your nose and nuzzle your cheek into his hand. 

He leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead, “Only a couple more days of these long shifts baby. You’ll have me all to yourself again come this weekend,” 

“Good,” you murmur “I don’t like going to bed by myself,” 

He chuckles again, and gives your three more little kisses before saying goodbye and leaving the bedroom. It’s still pretty early and you went to bed very late last night, so you rolled over and went back to sleep for another hour or two. When you do get up to start your day, you find that your closet full of dresses, skirts, and generally fun cute outfits does not bring you the usual joy of picking out one to wear. The thought of showing off your figure makes you feel anxious and unwell, so instead you opt for a pair of comfortable joggers and another baggy t-shirt.

The day passes by slowly going about your errands and daily chores getting less work done than you would have liked. You feel a little blah, and just can’t seem to shake off the brain fog that’s plaguing you. You eat dinner by yourself, and turn in early for the night once again wearing Boba’s clothes that are far too big for you. He likes it when you wear them anyway. At some point in the night, Boba comes home and happily slides into bed next to you to catch what little sleep he can before getting up for an early start once more. This time he’s already gone when you wake up, but you can tell he’s been around. His clothes are in the laundry basket, and there’s a coffee cup in the sink. 

To your delight, there is another cup of coffee poured sitting in the refrigerator chilling. You happily mix in ice and creamer, thinking about how lucky you are to have a boyfriend that takes that extra step for you. One of his many little ways to let you know he loves you. It lifts your spirits a bit, but not enough to shake you from standing naked in front of your closet glaring at your clothes. They offend your eyes, and make you long for things you shouldn’t. So you settle for another haphazard outfit that hides your figure, and dampens your mood. 

The day passes you by though you are able to be a least a little more productive than yesterday. You start the laundry, and wash the dishes. Call to reschedule your dentist appointment, and even get in a couple hours of actual work for your job. But this looming cloud of distraction and general sadness prevails, and you don’t get to many of the other things on your list for the day. As you get ready for bed, wearing Boba’s clothes for the third night in a row you took comfort in the knowledge that tomorrow when you woke up, Boba would be there and he would not have to go to work. Surely that would make you feel better. 

In the morning you happily roll over and cuddle into Boba’s warm chest. You had made a reservation for the two of you to go to brunch, but that isn’t until 10:30am so that leaves plenty of time to snuggle. Lazy kisses and whispered good mornings shared across the pillows and under the sheets. Eventually though you do both get up and get ready to go out for the day. You choose a pair of jeans and a nice-ish t-shirt that you tuck in, you feel a little better than you have the last few days and take the time to do your hair and makeup. 

Boba turns when he hears you coming towards the living room, and he has to put in real effort not to let his face show his concern when he observes your somewhat drab outfit you’ve chosen. You never give up an opportunity to get dressed up cute, especially when he’s taking you out on a date. 

“Is that my shirt?” he asks, extending a hand out for you to take, you accept his hand but feel your anxiety rising in your throat and burning your cheeks. 

“Yeah… I’m sorry, I can put on one of mine if it bothers you,” you drop your gaze and shift uncomfortably. Boba is unsure of what to make of this, so he proceeds cautiously.

“Hm… how about that blue dress? The navy one you like so much,” he suggests running his thumbs over your knuckles and swinging your arm just a little to get your attention. But you keep your gaze fixed on his shoes, and give your head a little shake.

“I… don’t want to wear that one today,” you say, pulling your hand away. Now he’s really concerned, you were fine when you woke up this morning, what changed. 

“Sweetheart you love that dress, what’s wrong?” he asks 

“It’s nothing I just… I just don’t feel particularly dressy at the moment” you admit, rubbing your arm and still making every effort not to look at him. 

“And why’s that?” he catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him “Come on kitten, there are no secrets between us,” 

Your lip quivers a bit, you don’t want to verbalize what’s been bothering you. But his eyes are so tender and concerned, and his grip on your chin is insistent and firm. So you relent. 

“I spent too long on instagram looking at influencers and celebrities, and me and the girls took some pictures for another group of girls at the beach the other day. They were all so beautiful with their flat stomachs, perfect tans, and full breasts. I’m sure they work hard to look that way, and I’m sure they have their own insecurities, but I look at them and I think… why can’t I look like that?”

“I don’t want you to look like them” he says 

“What?” you jerk your head back just a little and look up at him. 

“I don’t want you to look like anyone else in the world, I want you to look like you. Exactly the way you are” he slides his hands under your shirt, pulling it out from where its been tucked into your jeans, settling on your hips. He takes a step closer and dips his head down to kiss each of your cheeks. 

“I want you to wear whatever clothes you like, especially the sweet little dresses I know you love so much,” be begins pressing kisses down your neck, and sliding his hands down over your ass. “I want you to know that you’re my girl. My absolutely gorgeous, perfect girl” 

He’s leading you back into the bedroom, walking you backwards slowly and carefully, whispering praises into the skin of your neck between hot kisses. The backs of your knees hit the edge of bed, and you lower yourself down onto it. 

Your hands rest on his sides smoothing over his soft tummy through his shirt, you think about his body. It doesn’t fit society's view of an ideal man, not overly muscled, spray tanned and polished. In the same way you’re not like the models and celebrities you’d been comparing yourself to. 

He pushes you down by the shoulder, coaxing you to lay down as he runs his big hands up and down your sides, dipping down under your shirt and reaching up to palm your breasts. His rough thumbs brush over the quickly stiffening peaks of your nipples. His lips drag over your jaw and you moan at his ministrations. 

“Babe,” you manage to get out, “we’re gonna miss our reservations,” 

He releases his hold on your nipples, and strips off your shirt. He hikes you up higher on the bed, and captures your lips in an insistent kiss. 

“Don’t care,” he growls, “this is more important,” he licks a stripe from your chin all the way down your neck and sucks a mark between your breasts. His fingers work to rid you of your bra. When it’s been discarded somewhere into the room, he turns his attention back to your nipples and takes one into his mouth and suckles on it, rolling the other between his fingers. Your soft moans and wandering hands encourage him, and he switches to your other nipple. 

After a minute or two he releases your nipple from his mouth, and comes back up to recapture your lips. His hands trail down, fingers dipping into the waistline of your jeans. He breaks the kiss, as he undoes the button and zipper of your jeans pulling them down slowly over your ass. You kick them the rest of the way off and spread your legs a bit so he can settle comfortably between them.  

“Your cute little dresses usually make this a lot faster, princess. But I don’t mind taking my time,” he rasps. Your breath hitches as he slides your panties down, and drops his head down in between your thighs. His breath ghosts over your core, already beginning to get a bit wet in anticipation. His hands rub up and down the outsides of your thighs as he begins peppering gentle kisses over the soft skin of your inner thighs. Climbing higher and higher until he reaches your lower lips. 

Without warning his tongue darts out and splits your lips, licking a broad stripe up from the bottom and stopping at your clit to latch on and begin sucking. His tongue continues prodding in and out as he devours your wet cunt. His hands cup your ass and squeeze, pulling you apart further. Your chest is heaving and your mind feels like it’s narrowing in on the building feeling of your impending orgasm. 

“Boba,” you gasp out “I-- I’m gonna cum… I-” 

He doesn't answer in words, he growls into your aching cunt and moves his tongue faster to get you over the edge. Your orgasm is blinding in its intensity, sending your mind reeling as your choke out strangled cries of pleasure. As you’re coming down from your high, Boba releases your swollen clit from his lips and kisses his way back up to you, dragging his hands up with him. He whispers the sweetest words into your skin.   

“Mmm you’re my girl. My sweet, perfect girl. I’ll spend the rest of my days showing you how perfect you truly are,”

[homestuckbot413]

i spent my whole life working toward commissioning pics of your otp, only to have it ruined by windswept questant

[mymarifae]

wind archer for the character list!!

favorite thing about them

son boy allowed

least favorite thing about them

i think he needs better pants. i just

hey windy what are those

favorite line

pbtbtbbttbt

brOTP

i think he’s like the one person who can get along with fairy KGJFBJKDFBGHJB she’s a huge pest and a jerk because that’s just how fae are but i think he’s pretty fond of her…

so like, i don’t think millennial tree was a horrible awful terrible father, but i don’t think he was necessarily in the right state of mind to be raising a child. i hc that mt deals with severe depression, and the beginning of everything with dark enchantress triggers the onset of a bad episode. this is, coincidentally, when mt finds baby wind archer, abandoned in the forest. he’s like, not going to NOT do anything about this baby, obviously. and he’s a great father when wind archer is super young because it’s easier for him to set aside his depression when he’s needed, and babies require a lot of care.

BUT as wind archer gets older and doesn’t …seem to need as much support and care, mt starts spiraling again. he loves his son and if wind archer is in danger or gets sick or anything he snaps out of it but most of the time he just kinda digs a hole in the mud and lays in it.

wind archer gets bored and starts wandering off and exploring the forest, which is how he meets fairy! and she’s the first creature windy’s met other than his dad that he can actually talk to and have a conversation with, so initially he’s actually the one constantly pestering fairy and never leaving her alone because he wants! a friend!! she grows to tolerate him, and then to see him as sort of like her little brother

OTP

windherb :]

nOTP

eeeeeeh

random headcanon

so like *throws away his stoic, serious personality in canon* 

growing up with a faery for a best friend really does somethin’ to ya. he’s a lot more mischievous and playful than you would think. he likes teasing people and pressing their buttons. he has a hard time fully expressing his emotions, so some of his jokes and tricks come off the wrong way…because he’ll appear to be completely serious, but he’s not. he’s also extremely literal, just like a faery. you can’t ask him “can i have your name?” because he’ll interpret that as you wanting to actually TAKE his name. (to a degree, millennial tree is the same way)

unpopular opinion

a lot of people seem to interpret night raven as being something he was forced into and like, just not his choice in general. i don’t…think this was the case

i don’t doubt there wasn’t a degree of manipulation on dark enchantress’s part to get him to turn on millennial tree so completely. but the costume description even says he “embraced the darkness.” like. he knew what he was doing. maybe he wasn’t aware of ALL the consequences for his actions. maybe some part of him feels regret. the visceral reaction he has to being given millennial tree tears feels (to me) like “i DON’T want to think about this because it hurts”

like, the way i see it is. dark enchantress curses millennial tree because she’s sick of his shit and seals him inside a tree. wind archer is devastated. he’s still so young. from what he can see and understand, mt abandoned him and the rest of the world. but most importantly Him. wind archer doesn’t see the curse part of this whole situation; the only thing that he sees is that his dad gave up. 

dark enchantress takes advantage of this and steals wind archer away. partially because, left alone long enough, wind archer would have learned about the curse and he would have found a way to break it. mostly because, she’s not. heartless. she knows she took away a child’s parent, and she couldn’t just…leave him. that’d be truly evil, and she’s not truly evil.

wind archer doesn’t take much convincing. she promises she’ll take care of him like he were her own son.

song i associate with them

windswept

favorite picture of them

*breaks shit*

[gunontherun]

@thegaleandlance

“Found a nice chunk of jade in the land of dragons. Added it to my collection.” He’s going to loop an arm over the others torso, and snuggle up more.

“Thought a good end to a good day, would be a good night here.”

[ginandtopicspodcast]

(Gin & Topics Podcast)

Gin & Topics is back! Listeners to this show will know we're big fans of the period drama, and our most formative OTPs (Anne & Gilbert, Mulder & Scully) are spirited redheaded heroines and their impulsive, ruggedly handsome partners. Which begs the question, HOW HAVE WE NEVER WATCHED POLDARK till now?

We remedy this oversight by jumping into a new obsession and discuss episode 1 of Poldark season 1 in our Poldark primer. We hope you'll listen in. If you're fans of love triangles, the British class system, sweeping rural panoramas, men riding horses along windswept bluffs, strong women, and gallant young men, this is this show for you. Catch episodes (in the US) on Amazon Prime or direct from PBS Masterpiece Classics.

[prongsno]

2 Fuzzy Blue Lights

30 day otp challenge (Sirius Black x Mary Macdonald);  day one; day two: pet names (2370 words) | read on ao3

The first time he hears her name he’s not paying attention.

He’s sat at the Gryffindor table, fingers drumming anxiously against the wooden table and eyes staring off into space. He’s only eleven; his dreams revolve around food villages and he’s still far too young. He’s still in shock that he’s not just been sorted into Slytherin, even though he’s had that feeling in his gut for years.

There’s something in the air that makes him shiver.

Her name is just a distant murmur. MacSomething or other, he doesn’t really care.

There’s the usual round of applause and he idly joins along, more focused on how his stomach churns for what feels like the seventeenth time. He didn’t manage to get any breakfast.

He does notice a small brunette, however, walk towards the same table he’s at. Her cheeks are on fire as she sits down next a smiling red-head, she seems a bit embarrassed about all the attention but he pays her little notice.

It’s only when he hears “Potter”, followed by the immediate “GRYFFINDOR!” from the sorting hat, that Sirius finally looks up. And that’s when he sees her.

He didn’t plan for it to happen, but suddenly she’s right there and he can’t think about anything else. All he can see is a startling light blue, soft like a spring day.

Everything is fuzzy and a blur, but then he feels a hand on his shoulder and James Potter sits next him, grinning from ear to ear. The girl is at the back of his mind, he’s already forgotten the shade of her eyes and the pink tinge of her cheeks.

James’ hand reaches out for a high five and the rest, as they say, is history.

He’s bad with names. Especially hers.

“Black and MacDonald.”

They’re in Potions, listening to Slughorn as he reads off the potions partners for their second year.

Sirius stops doodling on his parchment. “Who?” He asks. James whacks him across the head.

“You’ve got to be kidding, mate. She’s been in our house for two years.”

James points across the classroom and then he understands.

Ah, her.

For the past two years he's been able to avoid her name. Of course, they've talked on occasion but he's been able to sneak by with “You”.

Now MacSomething or other is Macdonald, and he’s not sure how he feels about this new information.

Sirius begrudgingly gets off his chair, salutes to James and sets off towards her table. A scrunched up paper ball is thrown at her head by Lily Evans and MacDonald opens it and snorts with laughter as she reads the message.

He plops into the seat next to her and her name feels so foreign on his tongue. He panics, feeling nervous all of a sudden. He scratches his nose, clears his throat and tries his best.

“Hey… you.”

It's like he's seeing her for the first time and his breath hitches in his throat. He's never been this close to her before and suddenly he can see the small dusting of freckles over her nose and cheeks. The colour of her eyes, which once reminded him of a soft summer's day last year, is now a deep blue close up. He's lost in her eyes, an ocean full and vast and he's helplessly floating along.

“Black.”

He hates his name, always has. But the way his last name rolls off her tongue, the way her northern accent plays around with the word… It gives him goosebumps.

Despite himself, and the hate and resentment that riles up in his gut like an angry monster whenever he remembers his horrible family, he smiles.

She's MacDonald from then on.

Third year rushes around too fast for Sirius’ liking. He feels like a tumbleweed, being pushed around by everything that has control over his life.

Third year is the year that the boys found out about Remus’s werewolf condition; it’s also the year that Peter develops a crush on Dorcas Meadowes and, more often than not, Sirius finds himself lying awake at night, listening to Peter as he mumbles about heart-ache and heart-break.

Sirius hopes he never has to feel what Peter’s going through, it sounds troublesome.

He does understand what it feels like to have his heart shatter, however, when he receives a letter. It’s the neat and cursive quillwork from his mother that already sets his body into a high alert, anxiety and dread rushing through his fingers as he takes a breath and a plunge.

He’s been bottling it all up for so long, all these worries and fears and the past just eating away at his insides; torturing him.

And just reading those words, harsh and distant like he’s always remembered Walburga Black, stops him on his tracks.

His hand is shaking before he’s even realised and it’s like he’s being crashed mercilessly against thunderous waves, he stumbles backwards and his back hits the wall of the owlery. He sputters out a small gasp, but he’s already gulping and trying to stop the tears stinging his eyes.

He’s never felt so alone since his childhood days at number 12 Grimmauld Place. And it was his uncle Alphard who made those days a little more bearable, along with the help from his favourite cousin Andromeda.

But his family isn’t here right now and the short, cold letter written by his mother is the first form of communication he’s had from her at Hogwarts, ever. He doesn’t quite understand why it’s affecting him so.

He’s angry, at her and at himself for getting so emotional about a stupid, short letter. Fingers grip onto the letter, hard, and he crumples it into a ball. He’s ready to whip out his wand and set the damned thing alight. 

Until he hears his name. And her voice.

It’s like the soft, empty silence after a wave strikes the rocks. It’s peaceful, gentle.

She’s calling out his name and it’s so distant in the back of his mind because he’s frozen with shock at how her voice just instantly calms him down.

Then she’s shaking his shoulder lightly, whispering out his name again in fear that he’ll crumble beneath her hands. 

He almost does.

He looks up at her with a gulp and tries to breathe. She doesn’t look at him with pity and for that he’s eternally grateful.

All she does is let out a little sigh, shakes her head softly, then plops down onto the ledge beside him. His face is wet with tears and his eyes are stinging, but her presence is comforting in an incomprehensible way.

“Would you like a biscuit, Black?”

The letter’s thrown onto the floor, scrunched and never to be read again. By him anyways.

“Is it chocolate?” He finds himself saying, even though his throat is sore and scratchy and he has no idea why she is even bothering with him at all.

“Of course,” She smiles and proudly presents him with a packet of muggle biscuits from her cloak pocket.

It’s an odd situation, but no one has ever offered him something like this since his first train ride on the Hogwarts Express when scrawny Sirius Black and James Potter shared a packet of every flavour beans.

He takes the biscuits with a smile, breathing deeply when their fingers collide and his hand brushes against hers.

Is this what Peter meant?

He wants to call her something more. But even as fourth year passes by, and she's on the Quidditch team with James, and they're on friendlyish terms he still doesn't know who she is apart from MacDonald.

He’s gotten quite attached to the name, to be honest.

He sees her at the Gryffindor table the breakfast before her first match with James and the rest of the team.

James says he's not nervous, but still manages to consume three coffees during ten minutes and MacDonald is drumming her fingers against the oak wood, refusing to let the nerves get to her.

He wishes her luck and she smiles, teeth biting against her bottom lip as she sips on her tea.

James says he'll look after her, as long she does the same for him and she laughs a sweet, merry and wonderful laugh. He's slightly jealous that it's not him who made her happy, but she looks so good with a smile..

He tells them he'll be up on the stands with Peter, Remus and Lily and his eyes never leave the pitch.

It's an ultimate Gryffindor win, the red and gold stands boom with upracious cheer and Sirius joins in with the celebration chants and screams.

She's shining with delight, looking windswept and muddy but alive.

A crowd of red and gold clad Gryffindors rush onto the pitch as the stands start to empty, cheering once more for MacDonald, the seeker who managed to catch the snitch in record breaking time.

Remus and Peter cheer and pull James onto their shoulders and back, carrying him amidst the sea of red as they make their way to the common room chanting the Gryffindor song.

It's starting to drizzle and he notices that she's still standing on the pitch, looking lost and in a daze.

“Coming?” He calls and when she turns to him he shuts his hands into his pockets, suddenly feeling self conscious.

“Oh, yeah.” She chuckles, scratching her feet against the gravel before she starts walking and he joins in her stride.

“Congrats again, MacDonald. You did really good, kicking Slytherins’ ass and all.”

The sun glows softly against the light drizzle, making the pitch erupt in a hazy glow of gold and orange.

“Thanks, Black.”

Then there's a strange silence and he doesn't quite know what to say.

“Don't you think we should use our first names?” Her question rings out, shocking him. “I mean, we've known each other for almost five years and I use everyone else's first names. What do you say, Sirius?”

His name on her lips sounds like sweet, honey dripping into a hot cup of milk. For once he actually enjoys hearing it and he savours in the warm feeling that engulfs him.

“Um sure. Yes.”

He's bad with names, especially hers.

It's at the tip of his tongue, wanting so badly to escape but the name doesn't come.

“You have to use my name in order for this to work both ways.” She snorts, smiling still.

He feels light like air, even though he's panicking about what to call her. He sneaks a glance at her, trying his hardest to be aloof. Her arms are crossed in front of her: in heat preservation or to protect herself? He can’t really tell.

But he’s strangely entranced.

They’re near the castle now, every inch of grass covered in small daisies.

Sirius scratches his right ear, says a little prayer and the name ushers out of his mouth before he can even breathe. 

It’s worth a shot.

“Daisy.”

“You know that’s not my name,” She laughs and hits his arm softly. He’s laughing too, but on the inside he’s close to tears.

“You suit Daisy though,” Can he get away with it?

She stops suddenly to pick up one of the delicate flowers, twirling it in her fingers. “Do I?

This isn’t like him. He’s usually cool, like a sea breeze. Not a mess of feelings.

“Yes. But your name is beautiful, too.” He doesn’t need to know her name to know that.

She’s about to say something when the doors open and Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon stand there holding butterbeers in their hands.

“Mary!” Lily calls, in between chuckles. “We’re all waiting for you, cmon!”

The girl by his side laughs and moves forward towards her friends, but just as she’s about to enter the castle she turns back towards him.

She smiles, completely oblivious to what battle has just been going on inside him.

She smiles. And he loses his breath.

“See you up at the party, Sirius.”

And then she’s arm in arm with Lily and Marlene, giggling as they run up the stairs.

“See you there, Mary MacDonald.”

Her name is like the sweetest chocolate and honeycomb. And he’s never felt more alive.

Of course, Gryffindor has its celebration party and Sirius stands idly by the window with a butterbeer.

It looks like the caffeine has finally gone into James’s system because the guy dances on his feet, asking every person he sees to pinch him because he can’t believe they’ve won. Sirius pinches a little too hard, and James’ wrist is red for most of the night.

Remus has a few too many butterbeers and his cheeks go red and rosy and, when he clutches his fifth bottle, suggests they play spin the bottle.

Why not, Sirius thinks. But then instantly regrets it when the bottle lands on him and the person he has to kiss is Lily Evans.

Each year he keeps a tally of how many times he calls her Mary.

It’s sweet on his lips, addictive. Something he doesn’t really have control over.

To make it less suspicious he uses Daisy on occasion, and marvels at how her cheeks redden just from a pet-name.

In all honesty, it’s when she breathes out his own name and the word is a soft whisper, making his back tingle and his chest heave.

It’s when, after what seems like a lifetime of shy smiles and nervous glances, they finally hold hands and share their first kiss.

When his name is a mumble between her lips and their limbs are tangled under their bedsheets.

It’s like he’s only just learnt how to breathe. Like his heart has only just began to beat steadily against his chest, and what keeps him going is her.

When he knows he’s ready to spend the rest of his life with her, when he can’t picture anyone else but her smile… he lets the name fall out of his lips.

“Daisy.” Not because she’s cute like the flower (although she is, tremendously so) but because it was the start of them. Of Sirius and Mary, Mary and Sirius.

Together they’re unstoppable.

He’s bad with names, but not with hers.

[aylaaescar]

“I felt the closest to you.” + “You don’t even know me.” and the way that kills me every single time idk why

[visionmarred-archive]

4, 32, 40 for tysinno/ayla?

thank you, Meredith! 🖤

4. First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?

I imagine that Ayla's first impression of the MC in general probably isn't the warmest one, given the Shepherds' reputation as "dogs of the Autarchy" and all that. Tysinno himself is a quiet dude who comes off as somewhat unreadable and stoic at a first glance, so like. probably not love at first sight on her end. lol. maybe thinking he was hot, though.

as for Tysinno, he actually was a little bit "oh she's absolutely beautiful" when he first saw her skdsgjkf. not love at first sight, of course, but initial interest was there. mostly he was just wondering what her deal was and what involvement (if any) she had with Capra, though.

32. Do they ever get into trouble? Is it serious, or are they just mischievous?

realistically? more than likely 😌 Tysinno enjoys going along with what Ayla's up to, and I would find it very hard to believe she doesn't get into the odd fight or what have you. nothing too serious, because they both have a certain image to maintain as Shepherds, but just enough mischief on days off to make Blade have to call them into his office.

40. Any special memories? Do they have a special place they like to go to?

I'm pulling a blank on any particular special places; both of them are such drifters that I get the sense they would both enjoy showing the other places they've seen that the other hasn't, but I don't know about any special place in particular?

a special memory in particular that would stand out to both of them would probably be times very early on where they both worked to save the other from danger (close together but not at the same time), even though they didn't know each other very well at that point. given that neither of them were used to relying on others for support at that point (though Tysinno was starting to defrost a little bit thanks to the Shepherds), it's something that would feel important.

[jessicka]

i dont care who your otp is, this story is literally amazing and everyone should read it.

p.s you will probably cry

[aylaaescar]

I hope it's not to late to ask some of the Romance Asks! I'd love to know 2, 12, 15, and 31 for Tysinno, please! Feel free to only do some if four it too much <3

absolutely not too late to ask, and thank you very much! I'm always happy to have an excuse to talk about Tysinno, and Tysinno/Ayla 🥰🖤

2. What was the first moment that they knew they were in love with their LI? 

the first minute he saw Ayla Aescar. love at first sight, y'all

jk nah. Tysinno knew he had feelings for her for a while, and was interested pretty early on (as early as Capra, after fighting Quiial.) but as of my typing this right now, I'm thinking he doesn't realize "oh, I'm in love with her" until a more mundane moment at the compound when they're spending time together. I have this headcanon that Ayla occasionally uses wind magic to mess with Tysinno when he's sparring or practicing something, like... using the wind to send a practice bullet straight into the ground instead of a target, lol, or pushing a dummy back when he's trying melee stuff. one such occasion, he rolls his eyes and jokingly glares as usual while she's snickering at him, and that's when he knows that he loves her.

(that said, I reserve the right to change my mind on The Moment (tm) as more of Ayla's days off come out! my answer might be different next year :D)

12. Do they have similar goals? If they clash, how do they deal?

I don't think they clash all that often, in terms of goals? they're both very similar people: they both want a community and a family, they're both wanderers who want to see more of the world, they both just generally want this feeling of peace, security, and understanding. they just get each other, so I feel like they're going to want the same things as a couple. stay with the Shepherds, travel the world, start a family at some point. I'm sure that they will clash on something there at some point, but I'm not entirely sure what?

maaaaybe on how many cats Tysinno can have, lol. I think he'd gladly take in every single cat he could if Ayla didn't put her foot down or set a limit or something.

15. Does their view of themselves differ from their partner’s view?

oh, absolutely. :') Tysinno doesn't have the best view of himself; he's struggled with self-loathing over what happened to Maj for the longest time, and he's really only just starting to cope with it as of chapter eight. he sees himself as a bad luck charm, and believes deep down that people are better off without him around. it's why he wandered for so long, and also why he left the Circle without giving his best friend Red a goodbye.

Ayla sees him differently, of course, as do I! Tysinno is aloof at first, but he's incredibly warm and sweet once you become friends, and will yell at gargoyles for you. he's got a dry wit that isn't nearly as overt as Chase's jokes, but still makes you laugh (especially if you have a morbid sense of humor.) he's a gifted artist and writer, he's compassionate and caring, he's just a lot better than he initially gives himself credit for at the start of SHOH. Ayla sees all of that in him, and I imagine that while she does understand why he feels the way he does about himself, she still challenges it and dares him to see the good in himself. which he does to her as well. :)

31. Share anything you would like about the couple!

Tysinno's working on learning Gangara in his spare time! he wants to be able to surprise Ayla by being able to speak to her in her first language.

in RPG terms, I like to think of them as a healer/tank couple.

this scene always makes me laugh, and was just one of many 😳😏 moments from Tysinno lol

[aylaaescar]

................commission idea

[aylaaescar]

but the man who's used to death and carries the guilt of his 13th birthday with him, who specialized in healing because he values life so much and wants to save, not destroy, falling in love with the woman from the Jadis desert who refused to die. who had all the odds against her but lived, and these two surrounded by death falling in love and choosing life, together,