#owen writes

[impossible-rat-babies]

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss for eyrie/zenos, i am begging...

ty azia <3 i went off the deep end in their weird mutual pining situation

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss [1k words]

'Tis a bitterly cold morning in Ishgard.

The wind blows down from the peaks of Abalathia's Spine to cover the city in a fresh layer of powdery snow; the rolling thick grey clouds above promising more to come. The air stings the tips of Eyrie’s ears as they step off the stoop of the House Fortemps estate and they almost wish they could go back inside.

Lord Edmont would gladly entertain them the rest of the day if they so desired; hours of conversations over a dozen pots of tea and a constant warm hearth. Continue the conversation into dinner and sweet wine while he showed them the beginnings of his memoir. A suggestion that instead of heading back to the inn for the night that they could stay in one of the guest rooms.

Eyrie knows Edmont wants only the best for them—an open hearth and home for their aching feet and weary heart.

Another day, perhaps. A promise made in clasped hands and soft smiles that they would visit in the next few months.

But a long road awaits them with chocobos to rent to cross the wastes to Western Coerthas and beyond still to the Hinterlands and Idyllshire. Long stretches of travel made necessary by their companion.

Sighing, they squint against the familiar pain in the back of their eyes. Readjusting their glasses, they turn to look for a familiar shape. Further down the road--past the lines of houses to the edge of the Pillars they spy him.

Fresh snow crunches beneath their heavy boots as they take the steps in sets of two, moving past the lamp post to the raised dais that overlooks the Foundation.

Against the grey clouds and spires of Ishgard cutting through the ever present fog below, Zenos stands an impressive figure. Ever filling the space around him—ever drawing eyes to look. And yet no one stares. No one dares to approach. Alone, the trails of his coat flutter in the breeze and stray hairs dance along—hand resting lazily on the hilt of the sword at his side.

They step up onto the dais, folding their arms across their chest.

“Are you finished?” Zenos speaks, looking down at them as they approach.

They give a slow nod, pausing to peer down upon the city. Far below, the faint glow of the aetheryte is outlined the mist beside the pin pricks of lamps lit to combat the fog. It sticks in the crevices of the city like the cold and wet ice of snowfall after snowfall. The people are like shadows from this dizzying height as they shuffle about their day; not a wit given to those staring down at them from above. Just like the thick flakes of snow that will merely turn to slush beneath worn leather boots.

It would be trite to say the view did not hold too many memories for them—of the long conversations with Haurchefant shared over bottles of wine with the sunset to keep them company. The bone deep loneliness of sunrises spent without him--a gnawing hole in their ribcage. An empty bottle.

“Kisne…?”

They look up when he says their name so quietly, brow furrowed. He stares down at them, lashes long enough they wonder how frost doesn’t cling to them. Concern written in how close he stands to them— in the line of his lips thick with words unspoken. There's the urge to press a hand to his stomach to push him away. To keep their space, but Eyrie's hand curls to a loose fist instead.

They look away, shoving their hands into their armpits. Their voice is heavy--tongue like lead.

"'Tis nothing, Galvus. I know this view well is all that troubles me. It looks to the south--Central Coerthas stretches past the Gates of Judgement to the mountains on the horizon." They pause, a sigh escaping their lips and they squint. "I know naught when I will get the chance to see it again."

They promised Edmont a visit, and yet the months feel longer with each passing year. Time stretching out--aching and thin as it wears itself into their bones.

"Your eyes trouble you." He says to break the silence only the snow can bring.

A smile comes unbidden to their lips and they look up at him again.

"Aye, that too. Can you find my blindfold in my pack? I thought glasses would suffice for the day."

Without a word, Zenos searches their bag, finding one of the many with ease. They reach out to take the blindfold from him, but he pushes their hand aside without a word. Their sound of protest ignored and any further qualms silenced.

Zeno's hand are far gentler then he has any right to be out in public as he takes their glasses. Folds them with care even as he leans down to affix their blindfold; fingertips brushing against cold flushed cheeks as he ties the back together. Tenderly he pulls out hairs stuck beneath like he's done it a dozen times before.

And yet he's only watched before. Allowed them the privacy of this small ritual and dared not offer his help. He stares not at their eyes as his hands linger on their cheeks far longer than they should; the warmth of his palms seeping into their cheeks as he smooths a wrinkle on the edge of the fabric.

Not unlike their own hands this morning--fixing his eye patch. Brushing his own hand aside to do it themselves. Whispering that they wanted to do it as they both sat half dressed from the night before as the grey morning light washed the inn room in its fog like haze. Letting their touch linger along with their eyes--staring far too long to be considered polite. Far too soft for the people that they are and the ways they share a bed.

Far too much for how he held their hand and pressed a kiss into their palm.

Opening their mouth to speak, but Zenos pulls away before the words even come to their lips. Their breath escapes in a rush of foggy air instead, feeling him tuck their glasses. The cold stealing what warmth he left behind from their skin.

"Are you ready?" He asks.

"Yes." They nod mostly to themselves, the moment fading to the dull cold. "The road awaits."

[mischievous-thunder]

[mobius-m-mobius]

#tfw no one stops talking about you losing all your skin ✌️😭

[mssoapart]

Day 7

Free-day (Out of order and late) Alenoah as Sherlock/Moriarty.

I like it when two characters play mind games and scheming against or with each other.

I didn`t plan to create an AU, but – my rant and bits of literature/character analysis (The Vision). Also, draw concept sketch.

Noah (Detective Sherlock Holmes). I mean, they're both geniuses, introverts who don't care about social opinion and some versions depicted him as being good with dogs. In Victorian England, I totally see Noah opening a detective agency, because you either go working on a plant or you might use your geniuses’ intelligence to solve crimes, like game puzzles, and make monies to pay bills and buy new books because in 1800 many books were expensive and produced in small quantities.

Plus! I might look at this too far, but I think the Sherlock and Watson analogy was implemented in London episode when they strip team Chris just to Noah and Owen for investigation.

Owen (Dr. Watson). Basically in the original books, Watson plays the role of the guy, your typical visual novel MC, well narrator, who has character, but his whole purpose is just to be a witness to detectives doing, asking questions for the audience. This leads to usually representing Watson as either annoyed with Sherlock's antics or (usually in kids' media) naïve but with good intentions because of this simplification, to show his kindhearted nature in cartoons and caricatures he is portrayed as chubby, which is what we need! But all of them did service in the Anglo-Afghan War, even Disney version mentioned it. (Also if you want to do Nowen version of Jhonlock I don`t mind, sure go for it)

Alejandro (professor Moriarty). Do I really need to explain? Both archvillains in their stories. Professor, respected in society for his talent and achievements, wealthy, but behind all of that façade he`s "Napoleon of crime". He doesn’t usually do crimes himself but rather, schemes, orchestrates the events, or provides the plans that will lead to a successful crime, like paying money to a court so that someone can be released from prison.

Heather (Irene Adler). OK, in the original books (all books written not by Arthur Conan Doyle are basically fanfics) her character and Sherlock don`t date (But if you like, it`s fine). She was more like “I know what you are” towards him.  I want to base it more on Warner Bros Sherlock where Irene works with Moriarty, but they also try to get rid of each other. She is also famous for blackmailing royals, If it isn`t most Heather thing I don`t know what is.

Eva (Mrs. Hudson). The landlady. I think it would be funny, she yelling at them to pay their bills in time.

See you next week

[average-riot]

Piece I did for a fanfic I'm writing called Fire in Cairo <3 It's still not out but I'm jus so proud of this piece so I had to post it cuz gosh...

[asexualbookbird]

i can always tell when an author has a cat or has lived with cats. cats arent just There, they have a Presence. Characters stop and interact with the cat, and often, if there's danger, it's made very clear that the cat is okay, and i appreciate authors who have cats and put cats into their books so much you have no idea

[cleabellanov]

"But Lokius isn't even canon! Stop making everything gay!"

...

The Loki series isn't just about romantic relationships and shouldn't be seen as so. However, there is a lot of subtext. Maybe this ship is not canon, but it was intended to be seen as so by the fans.

If Lokius isn't canon, then why were the last two shots of the series showing Mobius and Loki?

If Lokius isn't canon, why would there be so much touching and scenes so physically close to one another? (believe me I know they're friends. that just offers a solid base for something more)

If Lokius isn't canon, why is there an OFFICIAL track named like that?

Why is said track played or incorporated in different scenes of the series? like

-the first McDonalds meeting with Sylvie,

-the back-in-time conversation with Kang

- the ASCENSION to the throne?

Why is the Sylvie and Loki kiss never mentioned, by the producers, in the series per se, or even in the season 1 recap?

Why is Mobius the only one looking at Loki when he leaves down to the temporal loom?

And the other way around, why did Loki only make eye contact with Mobius in that scene?

Why is Mobius the only one to notice there is something wrong when Loki is still trying to fix the Loom?

Why did Mobius/Don on the original timeline, mention he's single, trust a complete stranger, invite him for a drink, AND offer to sell him a quite personal jet-ski?

Why did Loki, the LITERAL GOD OF MISCHIEF stutter and fix his hair and coat for no one else but Mobius (who by the way is just a jetski salesman on that timeline)?

Why is the timeslipping Loki had to go through directed to Mobius twice, him being the the only one he doesn't need a TemPad to "recruit"?

Why would Loki bring up Thor and Jane if it wasn't to mirror him and Mobius? (because, as he already was talking to Sylvie, he certainly wasn't implying it's about her. They were arguing, AND Mobius was implied in the conversation. Loki defended him in front of Sylvie, in case you forgot.)

Why would Mobius's voice be the one to echo back to Loki on his throne? let time pass time pass time pass

Why the RAINBOW?

WHY DID LOKI LOOK AT MOBIUS RIGHT BEFORE THE FAMOUS LINE "IT'S ABOUT WHO"? (important mention: Sylvie was behind him when he said that. why didn't he just turn around when saying it? nope, they know what they're doing)

Why is the shot cut to Mobi after Loki's "it was more about what I wanted" line?

Why the shot where 7 characters could've been showed (Mobius, Loki, Sylvie, B-15, Casey, O.B., Victor Timely) there are only 2: Mobius and Loki?

Why is Mobius the only one to tell Loki he can be someone good, and the first one Loki actually believes despite his tendency to do the other way around in the past?

Why does Mobius finally find insight, and reinvent his whole life at the TVA because Loki helped him do so? (they're not even the first Loki variant he faced, but something clicked this time)

Why does the bloody sleeve, representing Loki being hurt by Sylvie just because he "wore his heart on his sleeve" disappear on episode 2? (because he finally understands who he needs to be next to)

Why did Mobius risk his life on the first episode?

Why did Loki go to past Mobius for the final advice, not to the present one, not to Sylvie?

Why did Loki ultimately sacrifice his life for the ones he loves?

And why is Mobius left alone, with the door locked, after Loki leaves in the Loom's radiation?

Why would there be so much endearing looks, and smiles at each other, if not for a conscious acting choice?

Why why why why why if it isn't canon?

Nothing is for nothing. Especially in television, where everything counts from the light to the angles and the way the lines are spoken.

We don't need to see two characters kiss to know they are made for one another. In fact, I think implied canon is so much better for now, because it leaves free interpretation for the fans, and nothing to strike on for the haters.

Of course, that doesn't change the fact that the ending is still tragic, although it holds its sweet from bittersweet. But remember: there aren't tragedies without love.

[poppy5991]

Just like your regular dreams and nightmares, PTSD nightmares are not going to be a straightforward recollection of events. It’s going to be fragments of what your brain is trying to process while you’re asleep.

[thoughtkick]

All stories are true. But some of them never happened.

James A. Owen

[shares-a-vest]

You know who convinces Steve to go to a doctor about his hearing? Wayne Munson.

His own hearing certainly isn't what it used to be. Working at the plant with all that machinery, only some of which required wearing safety earmuffs. Plus his work at the auto shop on the side wasn't the quietest workplace either. If someone asked him, he's sure all the time he spent with a ringing in his ears as a kid when his father took him out hunting with his brother didn't do him any favours.

And he's just so damn sick and tired of arguing with his nephew about the television volume.

At first, he thought it was some petty arguing from Eddie, ever the one to make it known that he is being personally inconvenienced. But then when Steve started staying over, that's when Wayne started noticing that is what it looks like when someone is hard of hearing.

Steve turns his head to favour his right ear and sometimes Wayne suspects the kid can't hear out of it at all. He mishears a lot too - asks people to repeat themselves with an overly polite, "Pardon?". He watches as the younger kids tease Steve, calling him 'an old man' until his shoulders slump and he goes all quiet. He also complains about muffling sounds, though he brushes off any acknowledgment of his issue. And Wayne is sure it all contributes to the poor boy's debilitating headaches that leave him bedridden.

But most damning of all: Steve never complains about the television volume. And Eddie gets all grumpy with the pair of them, huffing off to his room as if he doesn't play his metal music at a window-shattering volume.

So one day Wayne announces he has made an appointment to get his hearing checked. Thankfully, Robin Buckley is there too, eyes wide with opportunity as she slaps Steve's shoulder repeatedly with what he assumes is encouragement.

"Go!" she insists and Steve gives the world's smallest nod in reluctant agreement.

His own hearing test is straightforward and Eddie is satisfied with the aids he comes home with that will hopefully solve all their squabbling.

But Steve's hearing problems are a different story - more complex and requiring plenty of tests. He even has to go off to that Dr Owens fellow who had surfaced at the hospital when Eddie was recovering.

And Wayne finds out Steve has been through a lot more than he is willing to talk about.

Wayne pats him on the shoulder when they return home from Steve's final appointment. He tucks all the paperwork under his arm, shielding it from Steve's view as he makes a beeline for the kitchen to whip up a round of cocoa.

And of course, Eddie is anxiously waiting, jumping up from the couch to crowd Steve who has only just stepped over the trailer's threshold. He shrugs Eddie off and dumps his box containing spare aids, batteries, cleaning tools and a care manual on the coffee table. Wayne catches Eddie's panicked eyes and gently shakes his head in a soft and potentially too-subtle warning as Steve slumps down on the couch with a huff.

Turns out that despite being a respectable boy who always minds his manners, Steve is a horrible patient. Grumpy, resistant, snappy.

Boy can that kid be snarky!

Wayne chews his lip, tapping his foot on the cracked linoleum in the kitchen as he waits for a pot of water to boil on the stove. He knows Eddie is fretting and hovering, waiting to burst with questions. Before today, Steve hadn't said much to Eddie or his friends about his doctor's visits. He was even evasive when he called up Nancy Wheeler to come along and help him sign the complicated paperwork Dr Owens required them to fill out.

He makes quick work of their cocoa and decides to set Steve's on the side table by the couch, knowing he probably won't drink it at all. They'll be lucky if Steve eats dinner tonight at this rate.

"I'll be outside," he announces.

He doesn't bother waiting for an answer. He will just let Steve be for a while. And Eddie is big enough to handle himself...

Eddie waits for his uncle to finally take his beloved Cubs coffee mug out onto the front porch before he twists around to face Steve, who looks set on not touching his cocoa.

He searches for something and stupidly settles on poking at his boyfriend's cheek.

"They look cute," he offers lamely, running his forefinger around to trace the shell of his ear.

Steve slaps his hand away and huffs. Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. Okay, so some flirting that typically turns Steve to putty isn't going to work.

Oh, no.

"Just..." Steve starts before cutting himself off to pinch his nose, "I just need to sit here."

He sniffles and blinks harshly.

"Stevie," he says, voice low and as soothing (and not annoying) as possible, "This is going to be a good thing. It's going to help with your headaches and dizzy spells."

"I feel like an fucking old man," he snaps, gesturing to the door.

"Hey!" he laughs as he gives Steve's earlobe a tug.

"Ouch!" he shrieks, cupping his ear and leaning away.

"Only I get to call my uncle an old man," Eddie says, hand on his heart.

Steve slowly moves back upright and sinks into the couch.

"Eds, I just need to sit here and sulk for a while. I... I don't mean to be pissed off with Wayne."

He follows Steve's eye to the navy-blue box he'd tossed aside. He tentatively reaches forward, teeth clenching in anticipation of Steve protesting him even touching it.

"This all your ear stuff," he wonders aloud as Steve hums and folds his arms, "Can I have a read?"

Steve rolls his eyes but nods anyway.

Eddie sinks back further and further with every line of the hearing aid manual. He had wanted to know everything, but most of the booklet is just an advertisement for the device's brand. He'll have to ask Wayne for details later considering he and Steve had been all hush-hush about his appointments.

He picks up the spare batteries, two little pea-sized silver discs that will surely be misplaced the second they leave the general vicinity of their box. He snaps them back into the plastic packaging, eyes wide open as he goes, too scared to blink for fear they'll disappear on his watch.

Steve leans into his side, lowering down further until Eddie lifts his own arm to give his boyfriend the space to rest his head in his lap. He brushes his hand through Steve's hair, pushing it back enough so that his fingertips can reach his scalp through the thick mop of brown hair.

"Buckley's already working on a bedazzled little box to sit by the bed when you need to take them out," he explains, not expecting an answer.

"Mhmm," Steve murmurs as Wayne comes back inside and smiles.

[cadmuslabs777]

I love how Tom talks about Owen and all but I love even more how Ke brought up that Owen was nominated for an Oscar for his writing and that he would improve his and everyone's lines on set and would make suggestions that always made everything better. He's doing all this creative work behind the scenes and if it wasn't for people like Tom and Ke, no one would even know. Owen is an amazing professional writer and it's so sad that he often goes uncredited and is just seen as the funny guy. It sounds like even Owen does not give himself credit tbh. Can someone pls inform this man that he's talented.

[impossible-rat-babies]

#8 for the sleeby prompts but maybe just work/books instead of homework 👀

ty azia and @roguelioness for this prompt ;--; it kinda uhh.....hurts lmao

prompt: 8. “Put the homework away and go to bed.  You look exhausted.”

word count: 1.3k

when does this take place? dw about it, it's fine <3 (to say otherwise is spoilers)

--

Candles flicker on the table, wax dripping past the holders—the flames large and flickering, sending soot trailing up to the ceiling. The wicks long past due for a trim. A task ordinarily handled on set schedules, but forgotten for more pressing endeavors. Scholars books borrowed from the Noumenon remain stacked upon chairs and the table along with half a dozen tea cups, little rings of sugar and milk left in the bottom from days long past. Broken quills and empty ink bottles neatly set aside next to crumpled and smoothed out pieces of paper, notes scribbled and ink accidentally smeared in the rush.

The window left cracked open, letting in the cool night air; the trees outside rustle in the breeze, the only sound now--the orchestration left unwound--paper tapes left to fold up upon themselves. 

A fresh bottle of ink uncorks and the smell draws Eyrie’s eyes open. They breathe deep, staring half lidded at the ceiling above painted with warm shadows. They turn their head, silk cool to the touch against the side of their head still warm with scabs and bruises, still kept wrapped in bandages.

G’raha works at the table, his quill nib scratching across paper. Leg bouncing beneath the table as his tail flicks and twitches in thought. Removing a few books from a pile and Eyrie catches most of his face. Backlit by candles, there’s already pain building behind their eyes from the light but they don’t want to look away.

G’raha readjusts his legs, still engrossed in work—blissfully aware of their waking. Good.

His brow scrunches and eyes narrow, mouthing unspoken thoughts as he fusses with his quill; twisting it betwixt fingers before pausing to look close at it. Must be broken again and he sets it aside, sorting once more through the mess in front of him for another. He carefully handles each of the books—perhaps from one too many scolding about how to properly hold a books—in contrast to the ink blotches and stains across his hands. Does he know about the ink across the side of his left hand as he licks his thumb to turn a page? The edge of his sleep shirt sleeve stained from dragging it across notes?

They doubt he knows, too preoccupied by pressing issues. They’ve only been awake for a few minutes, but nausea already tinges their stomach in a familiar aether sick way. Hands trembling, not yet feverish but it will hit soon.

“You promised me you would be coming to bed before long…”

G’raha’s tail twitches and ears shoot up in surprise, a faint curse spilling from his lips. Righting the bottle of ink neatly tipped over in setting his book aside, he turns to look at them. They fight a teasing smile, committed to having a decent pout aimed at him.

“My apologies...” His ears droop, fingers anxiously tapping against the table. “I had intended to look only a little bit longer before retiring. I’m sorry for waking you—“ He looks up at them again.

“Ah, Eyrie, your blindfold…” He shifts his leg out from under him to stand. They shake their head to stop him, a smile turning their lips.

“Hush, it’s alright. I just woke up and don’t need it. Besides—I wished to look at you without it on.”

They catch the flush as he dips his head and quietly laughs; affectionate heat blooms in their chest. A naught uncommon feeling when it comes to catching G’raha off guard with their blatant expressions of their affections. Stuck in bed and they’ve become a slave to sentiment.

“Again my apologies for waking you; how have you slept? Do you require anything?”

“You are better for it—waking me.” They ignore his baited question, looking down at the sheets. Tucked in once again. “Who else would tell you to come to bed yet again?”

“Yes, well,” he looks away, back to the books scattered about—laid atop each other. “While the business of your condition remains a mystery, tis best we keep exploring our options. Especially if aetherspurn is our best guess, then—I was only going to be a little bit longer--“

Eyrie’s brow furrows.

“G’raha…”

A quiet slip of his name from their lips and they watch him deflate. It’s all he can do to help, they know this; ever the mind set to wander and think—the brain of a scholar beset with a problem he hasn’t puzzled out; hasn’t *yet* puzzled out. Eyrie’s seen the motions enough times, the loop G’raha chases in his mind. Wondering if there is any hope—chastising his own negativity and redoubling his efforts. There is a solution buried deep down somewhere. Nothing is impossible--the exploits of the scions damning proof of such--but research texts, old tomes and hand written journal accounts are finite. Even in the largest library in the known world there is only so much knowledge.

Aetherspurn has no known cure—only palliative care until the affliction runs its course.

Eyrie sighs, looking down at their hand and they pat the sheets to try and beckon him.

“Options best explored in the light of the day. It will avail you naught to keep this up until dawn. You will scarcely remember any tome you devour now, and be back at square one yet again come morning.”

Moments like these, they regret inspiring further and further heights of tenacity. They would be scolded for voicing such thoughts; already they hear Alisaie telling them what for—that they give so much, it’s only natural they be given so much in return. They’re the eye of the storm now, watching the rest all rush past; they only wish they didn’t feel as if they were falling behind somehow. Trapped in a bed, waiting for bad news or even worse news. 

The lingering shadow at the edge of their thoughts of scions being the ones to deliver such news--the time their dearest friend has left is limited. They’ve dreamed of that moment before—it never sits well, even imagined.

G’raha sighs, picking the stained shirt sleeve and they know he knows. The long nights are proof enough.

“Ask me once more?”

G’raha speaks softly, looking up at Eyrie. They smile through the sting in their lip and the pull of the bandages across their jaw.

“Please,” they whisper, “Come to bed, Raha. You look exhausted.”

Looking longer still at them in bed; lines in his face, an expression they’re not sure if he knows he’s making. One they aren’t used to seeing on his face--one not seen since a night many long years ago. A far different place than here.

Memorizing their face in the orange candle glow; perhaps it makes them look better—a better memory to hold onto. One of the few. Before they can speak his name again, he gets up. Gently extinguishes the candles until there’s only the soft blue moonlight through the window; a full moon with naught but a cloud in the sky.

“The candles need changed tomorrow…” They mumble. In this light it’s almost too much to speak louder.

The sheets move and bed dips, Eyrie watching G’raha sit beside them. How he reaches out--touches the side of their face; tender, like a whisper to match their voice.

“I’ll change the candles tomorrow.” He murmurs absentmindedly, the light catching on red irises. Pupils darting in the dark. “Gods, how they bandage your head each day is beyond me in terms of comfort.”

“Tis quite a dashing with the blindfold, or I’m so told by the nurses. I believe tis to soothe my wounded ego.” They roll their eyes, reaching up to brush their hand over G’raha’s. Guide his hand to their lips in a soft kiss—lips barely puckered. A sigh of breath across skin so warm.

G’raha’s laugh hiccups in his chest, brushing his thumb near the corner of their lips. “I was not aware you had an ego to bruise.”

He shifts carefully, always mindful of where it hurts for them; eyrie pulls him in nonetheless, guiding him close; tucking their chin against the top of G’raha’s head, brushing their fingers through his hair to rest at the back of his head.

“I do not...”

“How unheroic of you.”

Eyrie grins, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Tis disastrous, I know. Better to sleep than think about heroics, I say.” They close their eyes, sinking back into the pillow once more. G’raha shifts and they open their eyes, surprised by the intensity of his look.

“Eyrie, I--”

“I know...” They whisper, brushing their hand back along to cradle his cheek. “I know. I’ve always known.”

“Now sleep...I will be here in the morning, as I have every morning since.”

A sigh and G’raha settles back in, resting his hand on their chest. Fresh scars under the loose fabric, but still they breathe; rattling breaths as they breathe from their stomach, but breathing nonetheless. Heartbeat beneath it all, still going. Still alive.

[mischievous-thunder]

[mobius-m-mobius]

#just a wizard gentleman and his butler 🪄🎩

[kaidabakugou]

attending an event where the concept is that you have to switch hero costumes with someone and you get paired with red riot

everyone is expecting you to wear a black tank top to cover up your chest but you absolutely break the internet when you show up with your front exposed and red riot gears pasties with ruby rhinestones just barely covering your nipples

which has red riot a sweaty mess inside the costume that was made to match your hero suit, all of a sudden feeling too tight around his big, muscular body every time he’s around you throughout the event because you’ve been his hero crush for as long as he can remember and the sight of you looking so sexy in his hero suit has him fighting back a boner all night

[amourlyns]

hey. I already made a request, but if you have a limit you can scrap that one.

My cat has been gone for 3 days (shes never been gone this long, shes an in door cat). We just got a ton of snow and I just overheard my parents saying they think the neighbor did something to her. I've had her since I was 11 and she means so much to me. I've been having a hard time having any sort of fun with my family for the holiday season and if you could I could really use any windbreaker characters of your choice comforting reader about that scenario?

❛ HEY VENGEANCE. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾

✧ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: a jealous owen, reminding you that you’re his forever and always. after hearing a fan compliment you after one of his races.

✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: none

✧ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: owen uses a lot of praise, but he’s also getting his ego fed bc he’s a brat. insane by summer walker was on repeat ngl + imagine that one video of asap hearing riri’s laugh. 😭i’m sorry to hear about your cat!! i hope yall found her in the end. hopefully this fic helps.

⟡ ⠀ | Owen Knight is not insane, you know that and he knows that. So, why is he hearing your voice ? And why does it ring out so clearly in the stadium ? You’re supposed to be in the UK.

Korea wasn’t going to work with you schedule, he knew that and begrudgingly accepted it. So who the fuck is making you laugh and giggle like that? Yeah, he won the race but at what cost ? Where is his baby at—

There you are.

Now you don’t see him, but you could definitely feel his gaze on you, he knows you can. So why aren’t you looking at him? The race was over— and you came to Korea just for him.

So why was another man hogging your attention ? You didn’t even seem remotely interested. Your eyes eventually meet with Owen’s, a smile graces your lips. You’re already making hasty strides in his direction.

Even though all of your attention is on Owen now, his stare still lingers on the man you were talking to moments ago. Owen was always transparent about his feelings, you could read him like a book. He was vocal, and if he was thrown off by something? He would make it known.

He starts it off slow, discussing your appearance in Korea and what a lovely surprise it is, it really was of course. So there was no lie there, but he does mention the man you were talking to before.

❛ Why did you sit closer, baby? ❜ Owen pouts, jutting out his lower lip. You place a quick peck on his lips, cupping his cheeks and chuckling at his own behavior. He’s such a drama king, you’re not quite sure how you manage, especially with him.

❛ Owen, sweetheart I’m only here for you. And you only, so why are you worried? Hm? ❜ He flushes at this, maintaining eye contact. A hand reached out towards your wrist, sending soft kisses around your finger tips. ❛ I deserve all your attention, you know it. ❜

Your practically beats out of your chest, it takes you a moment to remember you two are in a very public space. And he didn’t mind the PDA at all? ❛ Owen, slow down. ❜ It comes out much more softer than intended, he stops. Looking at you with wide expecting eyes. What’s next?

❛ Did he say anything? ❜ Owen huffs, pushing further into your personal space. A smiles graced your lips at his intensity, he is so in love. Isn’t he? ❛ The guy complimented my shirt, he knew I was supporting you. ❜ You’ve obviously struck a nerve.

Owen scowls, pursing his lips at the thought of some stranger complimenting you. Despite the shirt and all. ❛ And that was seriously it? But he was staring at you for so long— ❜ Lips find purchase on his. Quickly silencing Owen in the most effective way.

He’s already asking for another by the time you’re backing up. Trailing you like a lost puppy dog. You let him, of course. Telling him to pack up so you can cuddle at home and enjoy each others company. He’s already agreeing—