#thank you so much lily thank you thank you thank you

[luveline]

hi miss lovely jade <3 can i be an absolute nuisance and request shy!reader who is to afraid to ask for cuddles from either remus or sirius? you can choose if this is a request that floats your boat! either way thank you for your wonderful writing <3

Remus lays on his side on the sofa. His arms are too heavy to keep reading, one numb under his body, the other not long enough to touch your back. 

“I’m too tired to read,” he tells you. 

“I could read to you.” 

Remus shuffles to the edge of the sofa, fingertips rolling down your arm. “Too tired to listen.” 

You fluster with your cheek to your shoulder, distracted from your own book completely. He hadn’t meant to drag you away, but he had. He’s selfish occasionally. 

Upstairs, James and Lily watch a movie, the soundtrack loud and echoing through the ceiling. Remus searches for the remote for the living room TV thinking that perhaps he can get you to recreate their evening. They spend almost every night cuddling, Remus has seen it enough times to guess that that’s what they’re doing now. 

You don’t cuddle much, but Remus has a theory that you want to. You get a little cagey, like, you’re so shy that being caught wanting it will embarrass you. You get cagey all the time. If you’re hungry, you can’t bear to mention dinner. If you want to hold his hand, you look anywhere but his fingers. And when you want to hug him, lay against his chest with his lips and nose turned against your cheek, you sit at the coffee table and curl away. 

He knows you adore him, you tell him often even with your timidity. You’re sweet like that, willing to beget a nervous sweat if it means Remus feels loved. 

But how can he convince you into his arms? 

“Baby,” he murmurs, wondering if that’s a pet name you won’t like. 

You turn to him slowly. “Yeah?” 

“Let’s buy a movie on the box office.” Remus pulls his hand back, catches your eyes where they follow longingly. “There’s loads of new ones on there.” 

“Okay, yeah. I’ll pay for it.” 

“No, I’ll pay for it, don’t be silly. Just come up here and pick one.” 

You hesitate. “Is there room?” 

Remus rolls far back into the sofa. “Right here.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He doesn’t say Am I sure? Because of course he is, but his incredulity doesn’t help anyone. You’re asking for a reason. 

“Yeah, there’s room. I’ll just have to curl my arm under you to make sure I don’t accidentally push you back off,” he says. “But that’s better for me, we can cwtch.” 

You give a small smile. “Cwtch,” you echo, murmuring as you climb onto the sofa. He leans back, letting out a contented groan as you settle against him, and he pulls you in. 

Here, Remus could affirm to you that cuddles are meant to be given and often, could say, Was that so hard to do? but he doesn’t find much pleasure in invalidating you. It is hard for you. He just has to show you that he can read you. He trusts in time you’ll learn to ask for what you want. 

“Alright?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” Your smile is audible. “Perfect.” 

“Okay, good. Here, lovely, have the remote.”

[requiemforthepoets]

hii do you write for franco? if yes can i request a fic where reader is short and insecure about her height so she’s afraid their relationship won’t survive his “f1 career” cause of the lifestyle and all the girls he’s going to meet so despite really loving him she tries to breakup with him but he won’t let her?

tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine 𖦹 FC43

PAIRINGS: franco colapinto x female!reader

SUMMARY: when you found out that franco will be racing for williams racing, you were so proud of him. though at the back of your mind, you can’t help but overthink about your relationship with him now that he’s finally in f1.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! thank you so much for sending your request. it’s my first time writing for franco, but i really had fun. i hope you’ll like this one and it’s up to what you were expecting. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, insecurities (mostly comparing self to others), cursing, low self esteem, overthinking, anxiety, and no use of y/n

As you stand in the Williams garage, you can clearly hear the hum of the whole circuit buzzing all around, and you can’t help but feel so proud. Franco had just achieved what he had been dreaming of since childhood—his first official race in Formula 1. It should have been one of the happiest moments of your life, watching him stand there, helmet in hand, chatting animatedly with the engineers, that wide grin plastered on his face. You knew how hard he worked for this, how many nights you spent listening to his dreams, encouraging him through the frustrations of karting, and celebrating every win, every milestone. You were there through it all, and here he was now—your Franco, living his dream.

However, alongside the pride that you were feeling, a bitter feeling also crept in. It had been lurking at the back of your mind for days now, only growing stronger with each passing moment. It was not about Franco’s career, but more about where you fit into his new world. The glitz and glamor, cameras that seemed to follow every move, the polished and perfect people that surrounded him—people you had never imagined yourself fitting in with.

Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, had been nothing but sweet to you all weekend. You bonded with her quickly, her kind words and warmth is a welcoming comfort amidst the chaos. Yet, as much as you liked her, being around someone so gorgeous and effortlessly poised had only made you feel even smaller. You weren’t tall or glamorous like her or the other WAGs, nor were you used to the attention, and you barely have a successful career. You were just…you. A university student trying to get by through her classes, someone who barely knew what to do when a camera pointed your way, and someone who couldn’t help but wonder if you were truly cut out for this kind of life.

When Franco finally made his way back to you, you could hardly breathe. He greeted you with that same wide smile and a soft tender kiss on the lips, his eyes still sparkling from the thrill of the race.

“Can you believe it?” He laughed, pulling you into a hug. “I can’t believe I just raced in F1. This is really insane.”

You smiled weakly, arms wrapped around him. Trying to steady your racing heart. “I’m so proud of you,” you murmured against his chest. But the words felt heavy, there was something you needed to say, something you dreaded.

After the media frenzy died down and the team began to clear out, you knew it was time. You asked Franco if the two of you can go to his driver’s room, away from the lights, cameras, and the noise. He nodded and led you towards his driver’s room, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you.

When you reached his driver’s room, he locked the room to give you two some privacy. Franco quickly sensed that something was off with you, immediately frowning.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, as your hands shook as you fumbled with the words. “Franco…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” His voice is gentle but confused.

“This. All of this.” You gestured around vaguely. “I don’t belong in this kind of world. I don’t look like the other girls in this kind environment, I don’t act like them. I just feel like…I’m not cut out for this, you know. For you.”

He blinked at you, and then—he laughed. A soft incredulous sound that only made your chest tighten. “You’re joking, right?” But you just shook your head, throat tightening painfully. “I’m serious, Franco.”

His smile faltered, eyes searching your face, and then he grew serious. “You’re breaking up with me?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing at all.

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve crack under the weight of his words. “I think I have to.”

Franco stepped closer, shaking his head in disbelief. “No. No way. Hell no. You’re not doing this.” He grabbed your hands, holding them tightly. “Tell me why. What’s really going on?”

You stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. How could you even tell him? How could you put into words the overwhelming insecurities that you had been drowning in.

“I’m not enough for this life, for your life,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m just…me. You deserve someone who can handle all of this, someone who doesn’t feel like they are drowning every time the cameras turn their way. I’m scared that this will change us, that it will change you.”

Franco squeezed your hands tighter, forcing you to look at him. “You’re scared?” He asked softly. “Of what exactly? That I’ll stop loving you because I’m in F1 now?”

You nodded, chest tightening as tears began to fill your eyes. “I’m not like them, Franco. I don’t belong here.”

He pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “Listen to me, and you listen well,” he whispered. “You’ve been with me through everything, literally everything. Since my karting days. You’re the one I want with me, not some random model, not someone from this kind of environment. You.” He gently cupped your face, making sure that you were looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not breaking up with you. Not because of this, not because of anything. I love you so much. If this life makes you uncomfortable, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You shook your head, still overwhelmed with doubts. “But I don’t know how to—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted softly. “I don’t really care about any of that. All I care about is you. I’m not losing you just because you think that you’re not enough. You’ve always been more than enough for me.”

Tears finally spilled over, and Franco wiped them away with his thumb. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, okay?” He added.

You let out a choked laugh, burying your face in his chest. “Okay,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your fears slowly start to lift.

Franco kissed the top of your head as he kept you close, his voice soft but firm. “Look at me,” he said, lifting your chin so your eyes met his. “There’s no one else I see in my future but you. No one else who matters like you do. I don’t care about the noise or what other people say. Let them talk all they want, I don’t give a shit. You’re the most important person in my life.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket chasing away the chill of insecurity. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered, how much you wanted to believe him. “But people will judge, Franco. They already are.”

Franco shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t care about them. They don’t know you like I do. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst, and I’ve loved you through it all. That’s what matters, not their opinions.”

You bit your lip, trying to push away the lingering doubts. “It’s just I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve someone who—”

“I already have someone I deserve,” he cut you off, voice unwavering. “You’ve been there for me through everything, you believed in me when no one else did, even when I wasn’t sure I believed in myself. I’m not letting you go because of some stupid insecurities about fitting in with this world. I don’t need someone from this world. All I need is you.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from doubt or fear. They were from the overwhelming love you felt at that moment. “You’re sure?” You whispered, voice trembling. “You’re really sure?”

Franco smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else melt away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re my future, not them. Not anything else. Just you.”

As you stood there in his arms, you let yourself believe it. Because the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it left no room for any doubts. You were the one he wanted, and that was enough.

After a long moment of silence, just feeling the comfort of being in his arms, you finally pulled back, wiping the last of your tears and giving him a small and sweet smile. The tension that had been weighing on you had lifted, already been replaced by the familiar warmth you always felt around Franco.

You wrinkled your nose playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, as sweet as this moment is, you really need to freshen up. You stink.” You teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Franco let out a laugh, the sound light and easy. “What? No way, I smell like pure victory,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms, purposely trying to rub his post-race sweat on you.

“Franco!” You squealed, trying to push him away. “Ew, Franco! You’re all sweaty!”

He laughed harder, his arms tightening around you for a second before he finally let you go, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll go and freshen up,” he said, his grin still wide. “But don’t think I didn’t notice how you were crying on me. If anything, you owe me for that.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, fine. I’ll owe you. Just go clean up before I regret taking you back,” you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp from him.

Franco winked at you before heading off to freshen up, not forgetting to steal a kiss from you. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ve got plans for us to celebrate.” He threw a playful look over his shoulder.

You shook your head with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days. The doubts that once felt overwhelming now seemed small in comparison to the love you shared. Franco was right—together, you could figure out everything, just like how you both always do.

[hollandsfavbabe]

Heart Over Hooves

pairing: tyler owens x reader

synopsis: in which you and tyler recount to the wranglers how exactly you began dating at a local rodeo in your home state

warnings: established relationship, cliche mean girl, cowboy charm, slight enemies to lovers

word count: 6.8k

masterlist

I just saw Twisters in 4dx and I know I'm late to the trend, but I have finally joined the Glenissance!! Please send me all of your Tyler Owens requests, I literally can't stop thinking about him. Here I present to you the fruits of a sleepless night. I hope it's decent!

The Oklahoma air was unusually chilly for a summer night as you felt a light breeze brush against the skin of your bare arms, raising rigid bumps in its wake along any part of you that wasn’t concealed by your tank top and denim jeans. But it didn’t matter how much of your body was covered; in all honesty, you could’ve been in your favorite bathing suit. The cool air was no match for the warmth of the toned arms of your husband that wrapped around you, keeping you glued tightly to his lap so that he too wouldn’t fall victim to the cold. Your cowboy, Tyler Owens, could never inhabit his own chair alone so long as you were around.

“You doing okay, baby?” he whispered into the cusp of your ear as the heat from his breath spread all the way down to your neck. Though a cluster of goosebumps had sprung from a patch of exposed skin on your forearm, it wasn’t long before the discomfort was extinguished by the gentle caress of Tyler’s wandering hand and he leisurely traced the length of your arm in an attempt to keep you content within his embrace.

“I’m just fine, thanks.” you smiled, though the summoned words weren’t nearly as effective at communicating your gratitude for him as your attempt to snuggle closer to him despite the fact that it wasn’t physically possible. Tyler got your message all the same, the clear sign that you couldn’t imagine a place on Earth that would fill you with an equitable amount of enjoyment.

Though you couldn’t see his face, you could picture Tyler’s grin more clearly than the speckled tile bottom of a shallow pool before his lips met your hairline to place a soft kiss near on your temple.

“Alright lovebirds.” Lily stated abruptly, interrupting your moment of intimacy as you were suddenly reminded that you and Tyler were not the only two people gathered around the dim glow of the small bonfire.

It had been a long day of chasing storms for all of you. In Tyler’s case, he had been the leading man in three Wrangler live streams that day as EF1s and EF2s sprouted from the clouds like flowers in the spring. His team had worked just as hard, aiding in each chase and keeping all channel content at its peak. While there were occasions when you enjoyed joining Tyler in his pick up as a special guest, the reason for your exhaustion was not quite as intense as chasing after tornados, though the role you assumed was equally as vital.

Lacking in Tyler’s lust for natural disasters that was very much necessary in order to tackle twisters head on, you became the team’s marketing expert instead. While it was considered more of a bench seat compared to the other Wranglers duties, you had proven yourself to be most useful during the recovery process once the storms had vanished in something you liked to call the ‘After Effect’. Backed by your wit and Bachelor’s degree in psychology, you maintained the channel’s engagement levels and ensured that there was more international visibility for your cause as well. The numbers added up overtime and you were proud to boast that you had managed to raise thousands of dollars from online donors that went entirely towards helping the people of Oklahoma rebuild their destroyed homes.

Such a busy day had left all of you much too tired to make it to the nearest motel that was more than a couple hours away and instead you resorted to gathering around a bonfire in the dirt ridden clearing of a wheat field. It wasn’t ideal, but you were all more than used to camping together after years of being as close as a family.

Traditions had formed after countless nights just the same. Tyler always placed his chair directly beside yours as it was never long before you gave in to sharing with him. The other Wrangler’s sat further away from each other scattered around the fire, but always in the same arrangement. The seat next to your discarded one was occupied by Dani, with the next supporting Dexter, and the one after belonging to Lily who was eagerly leaning towards you as she brought her can of beer back to her lips. Boone completed your inverted circle as he planted his chair dangerously close to the fire in between Lily and your husband who doubled as his longtime best friend.

Usually your group consisted of only the six of you, but tonight you welcomed an extra guest into camp. Ben, a British investigative journalist, had been traveling with your crew for months now and though he preferred to linger behind as an outlier, you could tell from the way he sunk into his seat that he had grown to be very comfortable with you all. You weren’t sure if he would ever leave at this point, but none of you minded his extended stay.

“Something wrong?” you asked Lily, lifting your head to gaze at her as the flames seemed to lick at the sides of her face from your perspective. You worried the team had grown tired of Tyler’s need to share his seat with you (as well as your reluctance to turn him down), but of course no one paid any attention to your couplish antics.

“I just can’t go on one more minute without knowing the story,” she explained.

“Story?” Tyler repeated, sharing your befuddlement.

“What story?” you asked.

“Your story,” Dani clarified, pointing to the foreign man that had settled just behind her outside of the circular formation. “Ben here wants it for his tornado piece.”

“It’s just intriguing,” Ben reiterated, his stumbling British accent a stark contrast from the southern you were so used to. He cleared his throat before continuing, eyeing you and your husband. “Everyone else here met while you were forming your chasing team. Everyone except you two.”

“And me!” Boone shouted, raising the hand that wasn’t occupied by his second beer of the night. “I knew Tyler before any of you.”

“Easy Boone, no one’s forgotten.” Tyler laughed, not bothering to point out the inaccuracies in his best friend’s claim. While Boone had befriended Tyler decades before you’d shown any interest in him, the three of you all grew up together in the same tiny Arkansas town.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to your paper.” you pointed out as Ben had made it clear that he wanted to write only about Oklahoman tornados and the recent uprise in storm chasing tourism that was a direct result of your husband’s online presence.

“It isn’t,” Ben admitted. “But it would be helpful for context. Just so my readers can better understand your dynamic. It frames how your team operates.”

“And I’ve always been dying to know!” Lily added with such enthusiasm you would’ve guessed a tornado had suddenly formed right behind you.

You sat up from your nestled position on Tyler’s lap to look back at him, delighted as you discovered an expression matching the one upon your own face: a knowing smile. He was more than happy to share how the two of you ended up together. All he needed was a signal of your approval, one you gave him with the loving squeeze of your hand against the taunt muscle of his bicep. 

“Alright,” you agreed, turning your head to face the group once more. “But I get to tell it.”

“Fine by me.” Tyler nodded to your condition.

“With help from me at least!” Boone interjected to which you sent him a playful glare.

“You best not.” you threatened as Boone broke out in laughter beside you.

“Fine,” he grinned. “Woo, y’all are in for a real treat!” he hollered, already very well versed in the tale as he was there to witness its unfolding.

“Just start already.” Dexter demanded as he spoke for the rest of the group. Even with the whole night ahead of you, there was no time to waste.

You thought back to the moment at once, recalling the fateful day as if it had only happened just yesterday rather than several years ago. You sighed happily at the memory, collecting your thoughts enough to be able to share it justly.

“It all started in our hometown,” you began setting the scene as you rose from your husband’s lap, standing beside the fire so that everyone could see you. “Y’all know that Tyler and I grew up together, but we had what you might call a rocky start. He liked to bull ride and I was too busy caring for my horses to pay any attention to him. I used to barrel race back then and I got so into it that it was all I ever thought about. It wasn’t until much later that we finally got together, during the biggest rodeo in all of Arkansas…”

“Whoa, Cyclone!” you shouted to your horse as you yanked back on his worn leather reins. Your mighty steed, a chestnut brown stallion that had been racing at his fastest gallop, halted at your command just in front of the last yellow barrel. Dirt flew from the power of his mighty hooves and at once he neighed in protest to the sudden loss of speed. He was just as bothered as you were when the sound of nasally cackling came from outside of the practice corral, your head turning in sync with your horse towards the disturbance even though you already knew who it was.

Propped atop her luxury racing horse and adorned in a custom made, spotless, metallic pink riding outfit was your arch nemesis, Addisyn Claire, with a wicked smirk so evil it could wilt rose petals and an ugly laugh that echoed even out to the hills that surrounded the rodeo set up.

“Looking rusty out there!” she called out to you.

You scoffed at the remark, narrowing your eyes at the girl before clicking Cyclone towards her.

“I’d rather look rusty than like I skinned a pageant girl for my clothes.” you nodded at her sparkling get up though really you wished you had enough money to buy new clothes for every competition. At least you didn’t waste so much money on something so needlessly tacky.

You and Addisyn had been in competition since you were old enough to stay on a saddle, your hatred for her bubbling at just eight years old from the first moment you had suffered at the hands of her ego. It only got worse as the years ticked by as she transformed from a bratty little girl into the spoiled bitch she was today and now as a young adult, you weren’t sure how much more of her classic mean girl attitude you could take. It just wasn’t fair. She had the money and the privilege to buy her way into winning most of your past races with horses just as prissy as she was. But even so, you hoped that this year everything would be different.

You had happened across Cyclone by complete accident during a storm that eventually became his namesake. After saving him, you’d searched endlessly for his owner, but as luck would have it, he remained unclaimed.

Your family joked that it was almost as if he had been gifted to you, pushed into your life by a deadly storm so soon after the tragic passing of the horse you had grown up riding. You didn’t plan on riding him, not after all he had been through, but after his minor injuries and habit of being spooked by the very non-threatening barn latch had cleared, you discovered that you didn’t really have a choice. He was the sweetest horse you’d ever cared for, never ornery and always affectionate. It was curiosity that finally convinced you to saddle him up for a morning ride.

Much to your delight, Cyclone was a natural at taking commands and so morning rides turned into teaching him how to barrel race. He was quick for a stray, so much so that you were sure he was the fastest horse in the whole state. But of course with such a gift, he had the only stipulation that prevented you from beating Addisyn in so many previous races where her professionally trained horses always stole the blue ribbon. He struggled with each turn.

It wasn’t entirely his fault, such a feat was hard for the average horse to pull off. With Cyclone’s super-speed, it became damn near impossible. Regardless of the facts, you trained every chance you got and without fail, your horse was forced to slow to a losing time in order to make the tight turns.

”If I had known it was gonna be so easy to win, I wouldn’t have bothered training this one at all. You can’t even make it to the last barrel.” laughed Addisyn as she flipped a handful of long blonde curls behind her shoulder.

“That’s funny coming from a gal who doesn’t even know how to use a coat brush.” you shot back. Cyclone snorted and tucked his head down as if he had understood your come back.

“Mark my words,” she snarled with gritted teeth. “You’re going to regret speaking to me that way. There’s a lot more on the line today than some flimsy ribbon.”

You hated that she was right. Not only did the winner of each rodeo event get massive bragging rights, but the first place spot came accompanied with a large sum of money this year. While Addisyn had enough cash to fill the colossal space inside her skull a million times over, you weren't as fortunate living off a small farming family’s wage. After a long two years out of high school, you finally had the longing to continue your education, but even admission into the local state college came with a tuition that was too big for you to pay all on your own. You needed the prize money to cover the rest.

You bent over to stroke the white stripe that covered Cyclone’s nuzzle, attempting to calm him knowing that he could feel the animosity steaming from the blonde. “Don’t listen to her,” you whispered. “You’re gonna do just fine.”

“Petting your horse ain’t gonna make it any better.” Addisyn smirked.

“And talking at me ain’t gonna make you any smarter, but you’re still trying.”

Addisyn huffed as she took hold of her own pristine white horse's reins, kicking it hard in the side until it was facing the direction of the rodeo arena.

“Whatever,” she spat, tossing her perfectly styled hair in retort. “You know you’re not going to win.”

Your steel glare faded as she trotted away, resting in a hopeless frown as you realized how right she was. You hopped off your horse and led him to the edge of one of the wooden fences to tie his reins to. “I know.” you mumbled sadly.

“Hey, stranger,” sounded a deep voice from beside you, in fact it was the same voice that had plagued you since your first acquaintance long ago. “What’s with the frown?”

You turned to face him, the only person you'd ever avoided at the rodeo besides Addisyn. The cockiest bull rider to walk on Arkansas dirt, Tyler Owens. And while the hatred you felt around Addisyn didn’t bubble through your veins around Tyler, you considered him just as annoying. The worst part about him: he never could leave you alone.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be?” you asked, commenting on the impending closeness of his event as you guided Cyclone’s head to the nearest water trough that was only a few inches from Tyler. He shrugged as he answered.

“My event’s not for another hour,” he paused to check the time on his nonexistent watch, something cowboys never wore for fear that it would break under the pressure of the thousand pound beasts they endured riding. “I wanted to stop by and say hello.”

“I hope you don’t mean to me.”

“Of course not. I meant your horse,” Tyler grinned as his hands tickled beneath Cyclone’s ear forcing the horse to lift his majestic head and give a hearty neigh. You never understood your horse's bond with the man as, though it sounded insane, Cyclone tended to reserve the same opinions about people as you. Even so, they got on so well for a cowboy and an animal that didn’t even live remotely close together.

You rolled your eyes at the pair.

“C’mon, you better leave us be,” you climbed over the fence to shoo Tyler away, ignoring the sign of discontent from your horse. “We’ve got a big race today and Cyclone has to be in the best condition possible.”

“Well, if I’m being honest,” Tyler began, holding his ground. “- there might be another reason for my coming here.”

You waited for him to explain, leaning on the nearest fence post as Tyler sent you a signature grin.

“And?” you prompted.

“I’d like to propose a little wager, just something to help motivate ya.” smirked Tyler.

As annoyed as you were by his cocky grin and suffocating charm, you couldn’t lie, his proposition intrigued you.

“Explain.”

“I know you’re really fixing to beat Addisyn today, even more than usual, but I don’t think you have enough on the line. I was thinking maybe I could help raise the stakes a bit.” he explained.

While you and Addisyn’s rivalry didn’t qualify as even partially a secret, you weren’t sure how he found out about the significance of today’s race. You sent him an expression of confusion as you tried to figure out how he knew. Tyler seemed to understand immediately.

“Boone.” he shrugged.

You rolled your eyes.

“Of course.”

Other than being Tyler’s best friend since middle school, Boone harnessed the talent of figuring out people; their likes and dislikes as well as their desires and motivations. Though he was a few years younger than you and Tyler, he preferred your age group over his own.

“So how’s about this,” Tyler started as he pulled off his sunglasses to stare you down with daring eyes of emerald, briefly wetting his lips. “If you win today, you can ask me for any favor. And nothing’s off the table. I’ll even leave you alone if that’s what you’d want…”

You tried to imagine a world where Tyler Owens didn’t pester you at every waking moment.

“Okay,” you agreed. “And if I lose?”

You were sure that no punishment from the brilliantly smooth brain of the cowboy before you could ever be bad enough to motivate you to win. Boy, were you wrong.

”If you lose,” Tyler repeated as he paused to lean in closer to you, pulling on the tension between the two of you like a rope around a bull’s neck. “- you have to kiss me.”

You backed away with wide eyes disgusted by the grin that seemed to stick on Tyler’s mouth like dirt on a dew drop.

“What?!”

“You heard me.” Tyler shrugged. “If Addisyn beats you today then you have to kiss me. A long one too, mouth to mouth.”

“And why on Earth would I ever do that?” you asked, forcing the urge to gag at the mention. You couldn’t even think about voluntarily kissing Tyler, not to mention being forced to do it after a devastating loss.

“Simple. I know you hate me and I know that you want this more than anyone else here and he’s good enough to win it,” Tyler nodded towards Cyclone who was loudly drinking from the water trough. “But I know from experience that as badly as you want it, you‘ll never try hard enough if you’re not risking more.”

“I don’t think you understand how much is on the line already.” you glared.

“Sure I do,” Tyler argued and you knew that he was telling you the truth. While the Owens family owned the property neighboring your farm, they had as much as your family did. Everything they earned went back into their crops leaving nothing for Tyler or any of his siblings to go to college, if that was something he even wanted. You doubted he ever would. “Losing the money alone would be tough, but it’s just not enough.”

“Why are you doing this?” you couldn’t help but question.

“I thought that was obvious,” he chuckled softly. “I want to see you win today. And if I’m being honest, I’m sick of seeing Addisyn win on her professionally trained horses. Lord knows you deserve it more than her.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You knew from casual eavesdropping that your worst enemy had a terrible crush on Tyler, one so bad that she had nearly begged her father to pay a dowry for him until one of her cronies informed her that purchasing people was very much unethical and illegal.

It was one of the reasons you couldn’t stand the cowboy. Any man that caught the attention of a brat like Addisyn wasn’t worth more than a second of your time. If you had known that Tyler shared your disliking for the blonde, perhaps you would’ve grown up closer. But the past was in the past and changing it was a feat best left unattempted.

“If I win,” you began, crossing your arms and staring him down. “- then starting tomorrow, you can never talk to me ever again.”

You thought you saw a hint of regret in Tyler’s eyes as remorse bloomed in your gut, but he hid it behind acceptance before you could comment on it.

“Fine,” he nodded, holding out one of his hands for you. “Shake on it?”

You took his hand in your own, taking in the leathery calluses on his palms that matched your own before you let go to jump the corral fencing once more and untie Cyclone’s reins for another round of practice.

“What about your event? Why aren’t we betting on you too?” you wondered aloud.

“Oh darlin’,” Tyler smiled which caused you to flush into a heated fury of both annoyance and embarrassment as the name slipped from his lips. “I’m gonna win. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. You need a boost?”

You glared at him as he held out his hands in a makeshift step exactly in time with you as you expertly mounted Cyclone, snapping his reins so he would return to the start of the course, dodging all three barrels as you called back, “Good luck Owens!”

As promised after a long hour of anticipation, Tyler Owens had taken first place in bull riding by a landslide, not only earning him a ripple of cheers from the giant crowd (along with a few girl’s numbers), but also his share of the coveted prize money.

You had taken a break from the more and more dreary barrel practice to watch him do it, sitting in one of the nosebleed seats surrounded by far too many girls who couldn’t have been there for any other reason besides to see Tyler. Still, you were amazed by his talent. More surprised still when he had a whole arena of girls screaming for him and his roaming eyes still managed to find you clapping quietly near the back. He sent you a grin as soon as he caught sight of your unenthused scowl, brushing the dirt from his chops and sending a wink your way as if to playfully say, told ya.

It was then you noticed another woman in the audience jumping for his rewarding gaze, though it was never won. Tyler was simply too busy looking at you to pay any attention to swirling Addisyn.

Heat blossomed in your chest as you felt a sensation like a swirl of wind blow throughout your stomach, a feeling you horrifically identified as affection.

It wasn’t often that people chose you over Addisyn; you were confident that most of her friends were hired. And while there was no doubt that Tyler was the cocky bastard you couldn’t stand, perhaps you had judged him too harshly as there was evidently more that lay beneath the surface. As much as you hated to admit it, the charm he had been using on you for months was starting to work.

You fled the stands, not wanting to delve into your change of heart any longer. That was one of the best parts of barrel racing; training Cyclone served as a great distraction. And you had much to figure out before he could compete.

It was the same problem over and over again, Cyclone’s speed being both his greatest asset as well as his worst setback. He would build up so much speed that by the time he had to round the barrel, it was virtually impossible for him to slow down enough to finish the race. There had only been two outcomes during practice, both of which were not nearly good enough to win. Your horse was forced to either stay at a slow, but steady pace or face flipping over a barrel, both of which kept you from winning the title by making you too slow or disqualified.

You felt hopeless as you walked your horse to the arena, as no amount of practice could cure your dilemma. You had only managed to sire one good run out of Cyclone, but even then, it wasn't nearly fast enough to beat Addisyn past times on her purebred horses that were bought at the highest price with intent to win.

She and her horse were just before you in the lineup, sending you dirty looks as you sunk glumly into your saddle. The line was moving too fast for your spinning head to keep up with, the dread pooling in your gut intensifying by each lost second. You and Cyclone were going to be the most disappointing finale act in history, this you were sure of. A horrid ending for what had been a fantastic rodeo. At least until this point.

It was by pure chance that you found Tyler in the crowd.

He was all the way on the other side of the arena from the entrance closest to you, seated at the front with a big blue ribbon pinned to his button up flannel shirt. Despite the distance and the spectacle playing out before him as Addisyn began her race, he only had eyes for you.

Though he was too far away for you to make out his grassy green irises from the deep black of his pupils, he acknowledged you with a simple tilt of his head that was neither patronizing nor teasing. The cocky bastard you thought you knew was nowhere to be found. Comfort swirled around you like a gush of warm wind in the field by your farm. Familiar, yet something completely foreign all the same. An indescribable mix between encouragement and understanding that you didn’t think a cowboy like him was capable of. It sent a wave of excitement through your spine, a damper on the constant anxiety you had been suffering from, that he knew you were suffering from. Maybe your race wasn’t hopeless after all.

If Tyler Owens thought you could do it, certainly the win was well within your reach.

His motivating expressions were so distracting that you had nearly missed Addisyn’s fatal move if not for the large gasps that erupted from the arena crowd. Her horse, so pristine and primed to be absolutely perfect, had turned just slightly skewed too far to the right, kicking over the last barrel with its hind legs as it attempted to recover into a sprint. But there was no coming back from the five second penalty.

As Addisyn finished, her time shone above the dirt arena in the digital shine of red numbers and it would’ve been perfect if not for her mistake. You could hardly believe it as the bitter sting of karma finally bit the girl who deserved it the most.

You fought the urge to cackle as Addisyn exited the arena, sending her a taunting smirk instead. It was as if she was waiting for it, shooting you a scowl so nasty that you were certain all she wanted was to hurt you. Her face had turned so red that even the expensive power couldn’t hide her reaction and her premium pick riding gear started to seem much less impressive.

“Hard to beat, Addisyn.” you joked. While it wasn’t like you to poke fun at the people going through the worst of times, you didn’t exactly count Addisyn as human. Only equal to the devil with too much money for her own good.

“Can it,” she hissed as she hopped off her horse to drag it back to the corral, dirt scuffing up her shiny new boots as she stomped away.

“C’mon, boy.” you whispered to Cyclone, a wave of new motivation washing over you. Even if he didn’t win, at least you couldn’t do much worse than Addisyn. No matter what, you'd walk away victorious over her. “Let’s show her.”

Steadying your foot in the stirrup, you swung over him and pulled his reins back before leading him a lengthy distance away from the entrance of the arena. You knew what would happen as soon as you crossed it, the Cyclone would instantly set off the motion sensor and officially begin your time. While many liked to build as they raced, you found starting in a sprint to be more efficient. That is, if Cyclone could make every barrel.

You tried to block out any last minute doubts that tried to claw through your mind as the announcer called your name and your hometown.

“The duo from Atlas, she’s riding her trusty horse Cyclone!”

Eyes fluttering closed, you searched for any last second serenity as you sucked in a breath, the last before you would find out the results of the competition. There wasn’t anymore time for you to obsess over everything that could go wrong and you tried to not let that bother you. A sudden flash of Tyler’s face popped into your mind forcing you to grin as you were reminded of his faith in you. With no more inhibitions left to act as a hurdle between you and your goal, you tightened your grin on Cyclone’s reins and gave them a hearty tug. He was off at once, soaring through the open gate and into the arena.

Everything felt like it spun by in a flash as Cyclone rounded the first barrel. It was as rough as expected, but he was able to recover faster than before, no doubt motivated by the pressure of the competition and encouraged by your commands that were accompanied by guiding kicks to his side.

Focused on your race and entranced by Cyclone’s quick adaptation, you didn’t think to look over to Tyler as you rounded the second barrel. He was up from his front row seat, hollering for your success and beaming with pride as Cyclone sped up again, an even steadier repeat of his last.

“Cmon Cyclone!” you cried as he galloped towards the last barrel, utilizing every skill you’d taught him during practice to the max. He’d only lost some of his speed and not an ounce of his momentum as he steered straight for the last.

It was as he began the final loop that you realized he was going too fast, speeding into the circle so quickly that there was no sustainable way for him to complete the turn without flipping the barrel. You braced yourself for the mistake, heart skipping a beat as your horse nudged the orange plastic with his flank. Though it all happened in a flash too quick for you to keep up with, you swore the sound of it toppling into the dirt echoed through your mind and you couldn’t bear to look back.

“Fast!” you commanded, hoping to end on a high note despite the fact that you had failed. The fact that you weren’t any better than Addisyn anyhow. You hadn’t proved yourself. The least you could do was lessen the losing time as Cyclone sprinted for the finish line at your command.

The deafening beat of your heart pulsed so loudly in your ears that you could barely hear the cascade of cheers in the arena you had left behind. You turned Cyclone around, collapsing upon your saddle as you saw it. The last orange barrel had miraculously stayed in place. You couldn’t believe it. You’d actually done it.

“And it looks like we have our winner!” the voice of the announcer boomed from the speakers. “With an Arkansas State Rodeo record of 13.62!”

“We did it!” you screamed in disbelief as you dismounted Cyclone, turning to the horse with a wide grin and new found energy. Your exhaustion faded away like the moon with the sunrise. Every hour put into training, all the hard work for the best of outcomes. You were going to be able to afford your education. “You won, boy!”

Not only had you won, but your horse had run a state record time. It was almost like a fever dream, but the pang of your heart in your chest was all you needed to know that it was all real. Now all that was left was to remedy your bet with Tyler.

You were obligated to be honored with your prizes before you could search for him. He seemed to appear out of thin air as you tied up Cyclone back in the corral with a wide smile on your face, turning to find just the cowboy you’d been searching for.

Tyler Owens didn’t have his usual confident swagger as he approached you, the loss heavy in his two booted feet. While he was proud and rooted for win, it seemed the weight of the cost was starting to get to him. He hated that you wanted him gone, but if that was the price you wanted him to pay, he’d do it solemnly and willingly.

“Good race out there.” he congratulated your success, his face tinged with the slightest shade of pink. It was a strange sight for you to see, a cowboy blushing at the thought of your loss.

“You too, champion.” you grinned.

“That’s nothing to a record holder. You could go pro with a time like that.”

“True, but I have some bigger dreams.” you admitted as you started to picture how Tyler could fit into them.

 “You’re not gonna stick around another season to torture Addisyn come more? I just know she’d be devastated.” he jested.

“As much as I love the sound of torturing her, I’m afraid my calling is elsewhere now.”

“Right,” Tyler nodded, his smile dipping. There was no doubt he was wrapping his head around the outcome of your bet, how as requested, he’s no longer be allowed to speak to you once the sun would set down on the grassy horizon. Dusk was already upon you as the lights around the arena shone a little brighter, casting an artificial glow on the darkening sky. “Well, I guess this is the last time I’ll see you.”

Unlike Tyler, your grin only intensified, but not for the reason he must of suspected. The more you started to ponder the prospect of him truly never speaking to you again, the longer you wanted the day to last. You weren’t ready to let him go, and maybe you didn’t really have to.

“Uh huh, because I won,” you stated with a knowing smile, stepping just a hair closer to the cowboy.

“You sure did. And now I’ll leave you alone like you wanted. Just like I promised.” Tyler agreed, but you could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

His discontent reminded you of what he had requested from the bet had it turned in his favor. At the time you thought it was all one big joke, another way to motivate you by making fun of you. But now, seeing him trying to hide the tears in his soul from the thought of leaving you increased your certainty that it was more than that. Perhaps the consistent years of harmless teasing and never leaving you a moment of peace were in lieu of the words he really wanted to say.

“Right.” you took another slow step closer, leaving only inches of space between the two of you.

You thought your excitement had made your intentions obvious, but as Tyler pointed back towards his truck, you realized he was completely misinterpreting the message.

“So I’m just gonna do that now…” he stumbled over his words, waiting for you to give him a reason to stay. Just like in your race, you didn’t waste another second.

“Just kiss me already,” you ordered, watching as his folded features brightened at the invitation.

“Thank god.” he breathed as he finally closed the gap between the two of you, sealing his lips to yours with a searing kiss.

“That’s when I knew Tyler was my home,” you finished your story, looking away from the camp of your friends and towards the cowboy who had captured your heart. “We went to college together the next year, sharing a couples dorm and when Tyler proposed moving to Oklahoma, I knew I’d follow him wherever he wanted.”

Tyler reached out for one of your arms from his chair, pulling you in to press a kiss into your knuckle, touched by your interpretation of the story.

“Even if it meant facing God's wrath everyday,” he chuckled, referring to the storms you chose to spend your life chasing alongside him.

“Where’s Addisyn now?” Ben inquired, looking up from the scribble of notes he had jotted down in his worn notepad. You doubted much of it would make it into his article with all the rush of storm chasing that was intended to be the focus, but it was a flattering gesture nonetheless.

“Exactly where you’d expect,” Tyler shrugged, answering for you. “Housewife to some politician. She quit racing after she failed to beat Cyclone’s record time.”

“She even tried to buy him off me the season after we’d left for college,” you explained. “It was more than 15 times the prize money amount, but I couldn’t sell him. He still lives with my folks back home, happily grazing wherever he pleases.”

“What did you have to do with any of this?” asked Dani pointing at Boone who had moved onto his third beer of the night.

“Who do you think gave Tyler the courage to make the bet? I orchestrated the whole thing.” he claimed, smiling with such pride, you would’ve thought he was in on the whole thing.

“Did not!” your husband protested. “There would’ve been nothing to orchestrate if I hadn't liked her in the first place.”

“Yeah and it was my decision to kiss him in the end.” you added.

Boone only rolled his eyes. “Sure, take the credit,” he groaned drunkenly. “-that’s what they all say.”

Shaking your head at the display, you couldn’t help but chuckle as you found your seat again in Tyler’s lap. No matter who the credit went to, a better outcome to your’s and Tyler’s childhood feud was impossible to imagine.

“Last time I saw her,” Tyler began, changing the subject back to your past arch-nemesis. “- was when we invited her to our wedding. She wasn’t doing too hot, nearly had to kick her out for all the trouble she caused.”

“That reminds me!” Lily straightened in her seat. “Y’all have never told me the story of how Tyler proposed. I’ve been wanting to hear it for ages!”

“Well, that’s definitely a story for another time.” you laughed, as a whirlwind of memories played in your head from the day you two got engaged.

“How about instead, Boonie shares the time he got so plastered that he woke up backstage at a Dolly Parton concert.” Tyler suggested.

“Oh c’mon, you know I hate telling that story.” Boone sighed.

“No you don’t.” you and Tyler argued in true couple unison.

“Ahh who am I kidding. It’s the coolest thing that ever happened to me. It all started when we were pregaming in Dallas…” Boone began rambling, recounting the event with such detail and focus that it was difficult to tell that he had been drinking.

You and Tyler were silent for your best friend’s story, though neither of you were really listening as it was an event you had been present for. Instead you held your cowboy close, grateful that fate had thrown him so far into your path that you never couldn’t pass him by.

[j1mmys-darl1ng]

.ೃ࿐scarring and scaring.ೃ࿐

Pairing : tate langdon x reader

Warnings : mentions of sh, blood, use of y/n, probably mischarecterisation

A/n : im so sorry for not making a new fic, life has been really kicking my ass right now and literally the worst thing i thought could happen happened. Ill try and write a few more fics before October (im not participating in kinktober).

You were dragging the small, pointy metalic object along your arm, adding more pressure each time before you let out a small yelp. Shit. Tate is definitely gonna give you a scolding when he finds you like this.

You wash off the blood, watching the water turn red and then transparent again. You had ran out of bandages the last time this happened so you just pull the sleves of your hoodie down.

"hey, y/n, everything ok in there?" you hear Tates voice through the door. You knew he wasnt an idiot and would definitely know somethings up. He always does.

"uh... Yea.. Im fine" your voice wavers slightly towards the end, seeing the blood bleed through your sleeve. Holy shit. Mabye you went deeper than you thought.

"ok well im not leaving till you open this door, im not an idiot. I know whats going on in there"

You feel a pang of guilt in your gut, knowing you promised him that you would stop. But this time was the first in a while. You can just predict the 'you were doing so well' thats going to come out of his mouth.

You know he wont leave until he sees how much damage youve done. Its not really like he has anything better to do due to being bound to the house and all that crap.

"the door isnt locked.." you tell him, feeling too ashamed to open the door yourself.

He opens the door.

You see his eyes go down to your sleves.

"pull em' up" he tells you. Its not a question, its a command.

As you hesitantly pull your sleves up, the blood smears up with it, creating a bloody mess up your arm. Your eyes begin to spike with tears, your lip begining to tremble and your breathing getting shakier.

"c'mere, let me clean this since i know you wont" his voice is softer now, his disappointment clear but he knows better than to yell at you when your in a glass state. Both fragile and he can see through your words.

He begins to rinse the cuts, using a cloth to wipe the blood away. His cheek rests against your shoulder as he does this.

"you promised me. You swore that you wouldnt do it again, y/n."

".. i know.."

"do you?"

After rinsing out the wounds to the best he could, he pats your arms down with a towel, also adding a bit of pressure to stop the bleeding. Despite the cuts not being fatal, the more pressure you were adding with the tool was making it worse.

After a few minutes, he removes the towel, bandaging your arms with a secret stash he had hidden from you. It was tight but not too tight it would cut off your circulation.

He presses a few small kisses onto the bandages, his thumb rubbing over them gently. It was a sweet moment. One that never usually occurs.

It felt nice.

A/n : shout out to the swaggy discord server im in and shout out to lily for watching sleepover last night with me over a discord call

Thanks for reading! <3

[izvmimi]

“You’ve aged, Morax.”

Zhongli bristles at your words, or perhaps his old name, for a moment, if only a small imperceptible increased tensing to his already stony posture, and you correct yourself.

“I should say Zhongli. I’m sorry.”

You can’t tell if he’s upset now for a few more moments, and something in your belly stirs in apprehension, but he laughs at your poor attempt for a joke, then relaxes his posture finally; you let out a careful sigh and sink to the ground, pulling your knees closer to your chest as you sit, thankful for the slit in your Liyue-issue silk, a welcome change from the ankara cotton you’re used to.

“You don’t look old,” you add for good measure, and he turns to you and smiles.

“I disagree,” he pauses, ruminating over six thousand years in a mere matter of moments. “Admittedly, I would love for it to show more… I do appreciate the ability of humans to grow old, even if they eventually return to dust.”

He shifts his weight from one foot to another, arms uncrossing so that his hands rest in loosely held fists behind his back.

“Gods and humans alike, even if we often claim to share so little with humans.”

A cool breeze cuts through suddenly, blowing in the foot wide space between the two of you as you stand together in the Guili Plains. The mention of dust has you bristling this time in turn, without the stoicism of your companion to carefully mask it. 

Thousands of years ago, his friend died here, dissipating as the finest of dust particles, carried away by the wind. Years pass, and time may heal all wounds, but untreated wounds also fester painfully.

You will never understand what it meant to share in that sort of communion. Not with him. Your understanding of Morax, Rex Lapis, Zhongli is different, having met while pleading for amnesty from as many gods as possible throughout Teyvat in order to protect your people. Morax had appeared surprised by how far you traveled, and how bold (perhaps stupid) you were to request a truce but had chosen to understand your desperation, he’d seen enough of it before, and when tragedy tore through every land, he hadn’t forgotten his promise. Morax then had promised to protect you, offering more than a simple request for nonviolence, and you remained thankful for it, your lands in Natlan untouched with a strong ally, and your friendship had begun ever since, through letters and long-spaced visits.

There’s a clear gradient of power between you that has slowly eroded with friendly affection over time, but at this point, you visit and spend time with each other, but you are not sure where you stand.

Perhaps never as ideological equals, not like the members of the Guili Assembly.

And yet, you appreciate the time spent with him right now. 

Zhongli finally takes a seat as well among the grasses, close to you. The glaze lilies still sway with the wind, their buds closed shut in the sunlight, preferring to bloom under moonlight and shadow. Humble without lacking beauty or the ability to inspire awe.

Like Guizhong. Like Zhongli. 

“Thank you for coming to see me,” he offers.

You don’t turn to look at him immediately because your heart is warmed more than what is imparted by Liyue’s setting sun shining upon you. From your vantage point are acres of sloping hills of green, orange and gold, elegant rock formations bordering graceful seas, and refined architecture. 

The people are kind and welcoming, happy much like your own.

“Thank you for having me again after all these years. Liyue is beautiful,” you praise, and you mean it. You turn to him, grinning. 

“Your people are lively; the lands are prosperous. They should be happy to have you as their god.”

Zhongli chuckles to himself. 

“I think they thrive despite me, and I’m very thankful for it.”

You tilt your head at him to mock his humility, but his smile disarms you. Still, you insist:

“Even if you give up your Gnosis, you’re still you.”

Zhongli turns his body towards you - your hands graze past each other and you quickly pull back, hoping he cannot tell that your heart has skipped a beat. 

You are a minor - rather, lesser - god, and you should be thankful you are even friends, that he is willing to entertain you despite all this time. 

Do not ask for more, you remind yourself again.

“And what am I exactly?”

His eyebrow is raised and there’s a sparkle of mischief in the way he looks at you.

“Zhongli, not Morax. Not one of the Seven, but a consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.”

“Exactly.”

Zhongli rises again and reaches out a gloved hand for you to help you up. You take it, patting grass off of your dress, realizing he hasn’t let go even though you are both standing.

He doesn’t let go even as he takes the first step and you wonder if he’s forgotten himself. 

“The Yun-Han Opera Troupe is performing tonight. We should hurry back so you can see what else Liyue has to offer.”

He pauses, still holding your hand as you keep up, then smiles at you.

“I hope I can keep you just as enamored…” 

There’s a deliberate pause as if he is distracted, and he clears his throat quickly then continues, “... with this beautiful place during this visit.”

“Of course,” you reply, nodding quickly, following his lead.

And your heart skips a beat, and you wonder if he knows.

But just this, being together with him despite the millenia, is enough - after all, you are the goddess of compromise and second chances.

[monstersandgirls-webtoons]

Hello! First off I just want to say I love your comic so much and how it explores the nuances of heaven and hell: the characters feel so diverse and lovable, and my favorites by far have got to be Prince, Junior, Sera and Lili.

Second, this question actually popped up in my head and I wanted to inquire... are you okay with people making OCs specifically from your universe, or is it a nuh uh? (And please don't feel obligated to justify why if you don't want to! <:] )

Apologies if this question has been asked before, btw; have a nice day and thank you for sharing your lovely characters with the world!

Oh sure! I’m a big fan of seeing people make OCs

[aronaax]

I was just listening to some music fill the void of feeling like nothing, and the song In my room by insane clown posse came on, now relistening to it, it sounds SCARILY how i imagine Clef/francis and Lily/SCP 4231-A’s relationship to sound like

(Also love your art sm, it looks so cute and adorable, please don’t feel bad about it, I wish I had a artstyle like yours :)

cw // 4231

ok i do not like this at all BUT UR SO RIGHT i think most icp songs would fit clef

(also thank you so much !!)

[miko-mikke]

Get to know you better

Rules: Answer the questions, then tag five people you want to get to know better in a new post

I was tagged by @sigelfire Thanks so much❤️ Sorry for the late response.

Last Song: キラキラの灰 (Twinkling Ash) by Regal Lily

Favorite Color: Blue! Ocean blue!

Currently Watching: "The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power", I love fantasy.

Last Movie: "Fall", It was so shocking that it changed my outlook on life.

Sweet/Spicy/Savoury: Very Spicy!!!!!

Relationship status: Married

Current Obsession: "Delicious in Dungeon" - a Japanese animation, also fantasy. And practicing guitar! I'm a beginner, but I have a lot of love for music.

Last Thing I Googled: "la maquina" streaming release date in japan, …. I live in Japan, and this may not be available here😭

I don't usually join in tagging anyone, but I love these because I get to learn about so many different folks. Feel free to tag me anytime!

[wizardinggirl]

The Snake & The Raven

Summary: It’s been 2 years since Severus confessed his sin to you, his deepest, darkest secret. After the initial shock and betrayal, you have forgiven him and now the two of you have gotten together. (With much approval from the headmaster. You were beginning to think this was his plan all along.)

Warnings: none

Parts: Prologue (1/2) || Prologue (2/2) || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (I will link the rest as they’re posted)

Part 4: Tea Time

Word Count: 2.8k

2 years later…

Severus had changed. It took him a long time to heal, and it took him far longer to forgive himself than it took you. You don’t think he will ever fully forgive himself. He felt responsible for Lily’s death and that her son was now an orphan in an awful muggle home. He would have been taken into the care of Sirius Black, but you didn’t want to think about him and what he’d done.

You had decided to stay on as a teacher at Hogwarts after the first few months when the Ministry asked when you would be returning. Of course you loved your job as an Auror and it had been hard work to get there, but being here to mold these witches’ and wizards’ minds was far more rewarding. Additionally, it was a preventative measure. If you were able to be a good influence to some potential future Dark Wizards/Death Eaters, then it was worth it.

“Marrow, fix your stance or Edward’s is going to knock you off your feet. We’ve talked about this.” You twirled your wand in your hand as you watched two of your students duel, ready to intervene if needed. You’d seen a lot in your two years at Hogwarts, and learned the hard way that when the young upstarts dueled that you needed to be ready for anything. The other students cheered and you turned the other cheek at the few that had bets going. It was a hard class, more work than leisure, so you let them have fun in it when they could. You wanted them to still enjoy the class, after all.

“Whoa!” Marrow went flying off the dueling table.

“Arresto Momentum!” You cast on your student, it slowed her down enough to where she was placed on the ground rather than slamming into it.

“Thank you, Professor.” The class laughed and others cheered as Edwards strutted around the table, his fists pumping in the air with victory.

“Alright, Edwards. Off the table, one point to Gryffindor.” There was more cheering from the members of the respective house and you smiled. You decided that whenever they would duel, to add even more stakes, the winner would gain one point for their house. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give them a competitive edge. You made your way up the steps to your desk and faced the class.

“I’m sure we all saw what Marrow could have done differently.” There were giggles as the students took their seats. “Your stance is very important, not just in dueling. It can even affect other spells as well.” The bell rang as you finished your sentence. “Good job today, class. I will see all of your Monday.” The sounds of shuffling, books being put away and chairs scraping on the floor as the students left and some waved goodbye. As the last student left, a familiar shadowy figure strode through the door. “Hello, love.” You smiled as he approached.

“Good afternoon, Professor.” You raised a brow with a playful smirk when he was finally in front of you, raising lightly on your toes to peck his cheek.

“We’re far past ‘Professor’ when we’re alone, Severus.” A pink hue dusted his cheeks as he cleared his throat, keeping a neutral expression as he looked around the room to make sure there were no more students present.

“We are still on school grounds, y/n.”

“We’ve been on school grounds whe-” he shot you a look and you laughed. “Alright alright.” You tidied up your desk, pushed your chair in then went back to his side, leading him out of the classroom. “Let’s be off then, Professor.” You said the last part with a more suggestive tone as you nudged his arm with your own. He grumbled at you. As the two of you continued down the hall, Snape seemed more rigid and quiet than usual, and that’s his natural state. “Are you alright, Sev?” You asked sincerely, placing your arm on his as you walked. He looked down at you and gave the smallest twitch of a smile.

“I’m fine.” Then he turned his attention forward again. It wasn’t odd for him to deflect when you questioned him about his feelings, but something felt different about this time.

The two of you sat together at the professors’ table and quietly chatted like normal, but you could tell there was something off. You placed your hand on his thigh and he stiffened then relaxed. That was odd… you leaned over and sniffed. He leaned away, his head snapping to you with a shocked expression on his face.

“What are you doing?” You actually couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. You leaned back in your chair, your hand still resting on his thigh.

“I’m just making sure I didn’t smell any knotgrass or fluxweed on you.” You shrugged and took a sip of water from the cup in front of you.

“Why would I-” he paused, returning to his normal position then leaning slightly towards you. “Were you smelling for Polyjuice?” Your eyes looked at him then back to your drink and you shrugged letting out a ‘hmph’, setting your glass back down.

“Just making sure it was you.” He let out a sigh then took the hand that was on his thigh and placed it on your own, leaving his hand on top of it as you took a bite from your plate. He leaned in to whisper so only you could hear.

“I’ll prove to you it’s me tonight.” You nearly choked. Severus rubbed your back and patted it lightly as you coughed. You narrowed your eyes at him, but he was just giving you a concerned look. He had no idea what he just implied.

Later that night you and Severus were walking around Hogsmeade, enjoying the cool night air before your u had to be at the tea house. You’d chosen to wear a flowy dress with short puffed sleeves. It had a blue floral design on the body and pure white on the skirt and sleeves. Along with a simple silver chain that had a small sapphire set in the middle. Something Severus had gotten you, knowing your affinity for your house colors, as a thank you for being there for him. The two of you had been together officially for over a year now. You had told him you wanted the two of you to do something special together, nothing big, just special. But, both of you were so busy you hadn’t had the time until now. He had come to your quarters a few days prior with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

**flashback**

“Y/n?” His hand still on the doorknob and not leaving the threshold.

“Yes, Sev?” You make your way down the two steps from where your bedroom was and wrap your robe around yourself tighter. You had already changed into your nightgown and it was quite sheer. “You can come in.” His eyes scanned you from head to toe then he cleared his throat and looked the other way.

“I won’t be long.” He looks back to your eyes, you were directly in front of him now, him looking down at you. “I merely had a question to ask you.” you smiled and placed both hands on his abdomen, letting your robe open slightly.

“Well, you are always welcome to stay.” He gives you a closed lip smile and brings one of his hands to yours and squeezes it gently.

“I have some matters that need attending to. Someone’s been stealing from my inventory.”

“And you wanted my help?” You ask, smirking up at him. He deadpanned.

“No, I can handle it quite efficiently on my own thank you.” You let out a laugh.

“Then what is it you needed to ask me?” He was trying to keep his eyes from looking at your nightdress, a slight blush ghosting his cheeks.

“Are you available this weekend?” He moves his hand to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

“I am, did you have something in mind?” You ask, straightening the front of his robe.

“We’ve been busy and haven’t been able to celebrate like you had wanted. I may not understand it, but if it means something to you it does to me. I’ve made reservations on Friday at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea House for us.” To say you were surprised was an understatement. Sure, he was romantic, but it was more in small gestures. A potion for a hangover or a snack if you looked peckish. There were those few times where he did pick you a flower, but that was pretty rare. He’d done nothing quite like this. You couldn’t help but tear up. His eyes widened and he cupped your face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to overstep. I just thought-” you shake your head and smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, his instinctively going to hold your waist.

“They’re happy tears, Severus. This is so sweet of you.” He blushes and looks away, affection and closeness was still something new to him. Something he was slowly warming up to. “It’ll be fun, I can’t wait.” His mouth turned into a closed lip smile as he looked back to meet your eyes. You lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” You ask, raising a brow. He brings his hand up to cup your jaw and ran his thumb over your cheek.

“I want to, dear, but I should get to the bottom of this before the week’s end.”

“Alright then.” You press one more kiss to his lips before he pulls away.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, love.” He went to turn away, but stopped and faced you again, studying your face then leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You smiled up at him then his retreating form and closed the door.

**end of flashback**

The two of you walked into the tea house, a little bell ringing as Severus held the door open for you. Madam Puddifoot looks up from her current table and smiles, excuses herself from them then wipes her hands on her apron.

“Hello, hello, welcome. Come in, come in!” She ushers the two of you inside. “Mr. Snape, it’s good to see you again. I have the private tea room ready for you and your lovely lady.” You couldn’t help but smile at that. As she started leading the two of you up the narrow steps up to the second floor you looked up at Severus.

“Private room?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.

“You said you wanted something special.”

“I did.” You smile, he must have put a lot of effort into this. You followed Madam Puddifoot up the stairs. Severus put his hand on your lower back to make sure you didn’t fall backwards. You couldn’t help the way it made you tingle. Not only were the stairs narrow, they were fairly steep too. He wasn’t about to have the night ruined because of a nasty fall. After walking down a short hallway at the top of the stairs the Madam opened the double doors at the end of the hall.

“Here we are.” She steps aside to let the two of you in. “I’ll be back in a moment with a fresh pot of tea.” Severus guides you into the room and to your chair, pulling it out for you.

“Thank you.” You lean up to kiss his cheek then take a seat and he pushes your chair in for you. “Such a gentleman tonight.” You tease and he lets out a grunt in response as he takes his seat across from you. You laugh and take the napkin from the table and place it on your lap. “Truly, though.” You reach your hand across the table and place it on his. “This is lovely, Sev. Thank you.” He takes your hand and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“You deserve the best.” He practically whispered. You smile brightly at him. He’s really laying on the charm tonight. The two of you sat there for a moment, enjoying each other's company while he watched as he ran his thumb over your knuckles, deep in thought. He let go of your hand and sat up straight when Madam Puddifoot came back into the room.

“Here we are.” You moved your arm out of the way as she filled both of your tea cups. When you looked back to Severus he was staring into his tea with that same look in his eyes that he had when he came to your room a few days ago. Almost as if he was unsure about something. “Please help yourselves to any of the sandwiches and pastries on the table there.” She motions to the long table on the wall to your right with a large assortment of goodies. “They were freshly made for you. If you need anything else, just ring the bell.” She exited the room and closed the doors gently behind her. Once she was gone you took a sip of your tea and hummed contently, closing your eyes.

“This is lovely.” When you opened your eyes, Severus was staring at you. “What?” You ask with a smirk on your face.

“I’m admiring.” He stated simply, then broke eye contact and took a sip of his own tea. You smiled to yourself and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while. The two of you simply enjoyed each other's company. Eventually, you had gotten up and grabbed a plate of pastries for you and Severus. The two of you ate and chatted and about some of your students and about current events. When the two of you had your fill, you left, thanking Madam Puddifoot on the way out.

“Shall we head back?” You ask, arms lacing through his, leaning your head on his shoulder. He placed his free hand on yours.

“I have one more thing I would like to do.”

“Oh?” You ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “Lead the way.”

Severus led you to a concrete balcony that overlooked the highlands. It was dark now, the street lamps dimly glowing around you. The moon was full and the stars were twinkling, it was a gorgeous night. You let out a sigh and turn to face him to hug him around his middle.

“Thank you for such a wonderful date, Sev. It was perfect.” He looks down at you, bringing one arm to rest on your shoulder and the other to your cheek, you leaned into his touch. “I really do love you.” He stiffens at first then kisses the top of your head.

“I love you too.” He whispered into your hair. “I know I’m not worthy of it,” he lifts his head to look back into your eyes. “Or you.” You give him a sad smile then take his hands to hold them in between the two of you.

“Don’t say that, Severus. You’re more worthy than any man could ever be.” His eyes started to tear up at that. He searched your face for any sign of dishonesty, that maybe this was some long running joke that James and Sirius were pulling on him. There was no way someone so kind and loving was real. Not to him. He slowly sank in front of you to one knee, keeping your hands in his. “Severus?”

“I'm not the man that you deserve, y/n.” He turned his gaze to look at your hands in his and ran his thumbs over the back of them. “I’m stubborn, selfish, damaged, but you see the good in me, even when I cannot see it myself.” Your eyes began to water. Was this really happening? “Y/n.” He let go of your right hand and reached into the inside pocket of his robe to pull out a small velvet box. He looked at it for a moment before opening it and presenting it to you. When his eyes met yours again, he was the most sincere you had ever seen him. “I love you. I thought no one could ever love me, that it was simply my lot in life. But you showed me otherwise and pulled me from my darkness. You are my light. Will you marry me?”

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next chapter please let me know!

Tags: @lizard-zombie @liviacarol88-blog @johnmurphys-sass

[diminuel]

Hc/idea: when Croc and Dragon have their first baby girl Dragon is very very nervous about gender stuff… Wani had been a little girl, at some point, and he still grew up to be his tough, masculine husband. What if Dragon fucks this kid up? Puts ideas in her head about who she is or who has to be?

Meanwhile Croc could not tell you when he had *stopped* wearing skirts and dresses. He’s a grown man with a family and a world to conquer, he doesn’t particularly *care* and has *never* cared about how he was dressed as a child. He has always had other shit to worry about. He finally feels safe and secure enough to *have* an office with photos of his children on the desk they are *going* to be *nice* photos* and his daughter is *going* to look cute as a button in it thank you very much Dragon.

Aw, that's cute that he's so concerned about not messing it up. Maybe a conversation or two with Crocodile will help him understand that they have time to figure this out. The newborn baby won't care what clothes she's wearing. There's no need to raise her any different than they raised the boys. Same expectations, same rules. If she's going to be strong (and she will be, she's their kid) then she has all the freedom to do what she wants and be who she wants to be.

I really like the idea of Crocodile going almost overboard regarding dressing his daughter though. He's probably also a lot more secure now than when he had his first child, where he might still have been uncomfortable with feminine things (and Luffy for example clearly had very strong opinions on flowers and frills back when he was on Amazon Lily. I'm not sure how he came by those opinions *lol* Probably not from Dragon. Iva would probably hit him if they heard him say something like "boys don't wear flower patterns")

[saintsenara]

At what age do you think Snape joined the death eaters? And when do you think he got the dark mark? (it's hard for me to believe that all death eaters got them right when they joined, but if you think differently, I'm open to reading why)

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

i'm currently writing a big "snape's experience in the first war" fic - scylla and charybdis [don't be put off by the pairing! it's really all about politics! don't be put off by that either!] - so this is, unsurprisingly, a question i've spent a lot of time musing on.

the timeline i'm laying out in that fic is that snape's first contact with the death eaters as an organisation comes in the summer of 1976 - when he's just finished his fifth year of school and is, since his relationship with lily has only just broken down, raw and angry and unmoored, and primed for radicalisation.

it's clear in canon that the death eaters were recruiting openly at hogwarts during the 1970s, especially within slytherin, by exploiting not only the social networks caused by all the pureblood families being interrelated, but also the social ties which existed between recent graduates and those still at school. lucius malfoy - for example - is heavily implied in the text to be one of voldemort's primary sources of new recruits, and to be the person responsible for putting snape in touch with the dark lord specifically.

[it's also clear that this is an element of voldemort's recruitment process that the order are spectacularly naive about - the reaction to harry's belief in half-blood prince that draco malfoy has been marked as a death eater is a case in point. slughorn's complete unwillingness to do anything about the death eaters looking for fresh meat is a key part of this - but dumbledore's failure to intervene is also significant.]

i decided, then, to have lucius tell voldemort - whose operation would need potions for all sorts of reasons [poisons, healing potions for terrorists who can't just rock up at st mungo's, illicit brews for the black market] - that he knows a potions prodigy who, as he's uncovered through his network of contacts at hogwarts, is sympathetic to the dark lord's cause. voldemort then begins a long, multi-stage vetting process to test if this is true - snape is instructed to make a potion of dubious legality and deliver it to one of voldemort's agents, who reveals the criminal use it will be put to. when snape doesn't contact the aurors, the process repeats, with him gradually moving up a chain of command - from a low-level petty criminal [voldemort's version of mundungus fletcher] up to the dark lord's spymaster general, augustus rookwood. having passed the test with rookwood, he is then permitted to meet voldemort.

my view is that snape spends the final two years of his schooling being subjected to a voldemort-sanctioned charm offensive, the most important part of which is the dark lord promising him a salaried job as a potioneer once he leaves hogwarts.

i say this a lot, but it's clear in canon that snape was particularly susceptible to voldemort's propaganda because he believed [not incorrectly!] that the dark lord would offer him opportunities which his blood status and class background would ordinarily deny him - and i think we can assume that the wizarding version of academic science [which - as i've said here, in a longer meta on snape's training, seems to retain its early-modern structure, and therefore rely on personal wealth rather than institutional settings] is one of the things he believed he had no chance of pursuing.

and so, when snape graduates in 1978, i think he becomes a death eater full time - working for voldemort on a stipend paid by the malfoys. i don't think that he's given the dark mark until he's been in voldemort's service for several months, but i don't think he's kept from it for too long either.

[not least because snape's entire relationship with the mark is hubristic - he's so ashamed of it in the second war because he was so proud of it in the first - which means that he has to be given it before voldemort settles on harry as the child referred to in the prophecy in the latter half of 1980.]

my view is that voldemort doesn't have a set timeline for granting the mark, but instead offers it to his followers whenever he thinks it will be most useful [to him] for him to do so.

draco malfoy, for example, is clearly marked the second voldemort decides to use him to kill dumbledore - and voldemort does this as a way of emphasising the utter disregard in which he holds lucius malfoy following the prophecy debacle, by taking ownership of [and quite literally branding] his son. i think regulus is given the mark similarly quickly after joining the death eaters - not because voldemort has any particular interest in him but because, as i've said in this meta on him, regulus is evidently accepted into voldemort's inner circle because he's related to other prominent death eaters, and so giving him the mark is a way for voldemort to keep these death eaters [bellatrix in particular] happy. on the other hand, i am certain that peter pettigrew doesn't receive his dark mark until 1994, after he's restored voldemort to the semi-body which allows him to be moved, brought him to england, and helped him contact barty crouch jr. and put the plan to kidnap harry in motion - and that voldemort dangled the promise of the mark [without ever seriously intending to grant it] over him in 1980-81, as a way of keeping him loyal, deferential, and eager to please. he's implied to be doing something similar with fenrir greyback in deathly hallows.

voldemort, master manipulator that he is, will have been very well aware that snape's fundamental pathology is a desire for respect. the teen snape wants to be recognised for his brilliance - and, indeed, his superiority - by those who currently consider him beneath them. he wants james and sirius to cower before him because they recognise that he's fundamentally better than them - despite their wealth and their social position - and he wants lily to choose him over james because she recognises this too.

and so i think snape would regard a quick dark mark as a participation trophy - something someone like regulus gets because they're a toff, but not something which indicates that voldemort holds the bearer in high esteem. but he's also not going to be prepared to wait for years with the mark dangling over his head like a carrot, because he'd regard that as voldemort being perfectly willing to give the posh the mark just for being rich and annoying, but not being willing to recognise that he's the superior recruit.

what he'd want - and what, i presume, he gets - is for him to be rewarded with the mark for doing something specific for voldemort which he thought displayed his brilliance perfectly and which voldemort was happy to indulge him in thinking.

and i have two suggestions for what that could be:

a. snape assists voldemort in the creation of the potion which guards the locket-horcrux [not, of course, knowing exactly what it would be used for], which adds another layer to his involvement in dumbledore's death [and - which is relevant in scylla and charybdis at least - also involves him in regulus']. b. voldemort gives him the mark for reporting the prophecy.

[luckydicekirby]

would love any director's commentary you may have on The Only True Thing if slightly older fics are on the table here bc lowkey it changed my brain chemistry forever. I read it on a whim like four years ago at 1 in the morning and ever since then I've been hooked on making all my fav pairings miserable for no reason. this sounds like sarcasm but I'm being completely sincere the schadenfreude is exquisite

okay first of all I’m SO glad to hear this because making your favs miserable is I think one of the most rewarding activities on this earth so I’m really glad I could help share that joy. thanks also to sylvain for just making it so easy. anyway, here’s some assorted thoughts, hopefully some of which are edifying!

(the only true thing for reference for anyone playing along at home.)

this fic affectionately named the darkling au due to this tweet which I feel like I should put in a hall of fame someday. anyway this entire thread showcases the origin of this fic which was me catie and lily bullying each other on twitter about sylvix, a pastime left behind in 2019 which i really miss.

the thing that really first made me Crazy Cuckoo about sylvain is his B support with Byleth--I'm obsessed with that moment where he very coldly threatens to kill you and then laughs it off, and that was pretty much the jumping off point for Sylvain's characterization in this au--what if he was like that all the time? answer: it would be bad, but also pretty sexy!

One thing I miss about writing for fe3h is the hero’s relics were sooo nice as like. shortcut symbolism. the lance of ruin comes preloaded for you! It’s familial cycles of violence! Easy! and there's a mechanic for it breaking ALSO preloaded into the game mechanics! I wrote like three versions of the ending and the lance getting busted moved around a bit--it originally happened a little earlier.

For a while when I was still femblempilled I was idly thinking about two sequels to this—a sylvain pov sequel about the war, which would have been fun but also Yikes, and then epistolary dorothea/ingrid ideological divorce fic. sorry to dorothea and ingrid who really get the short end of the stick in this universe.

oh there's a playlist. I can’t claim to have put a ton of thought into it it’s just all my fav bad ya boyfriend songs <3 actually dead girl walking reprise is like. yeah that's the fic.

ANYWAY. I feel like a lot of my commentary on this has been washed away by the sea (the passage of time) so a few extras. I apparently wrote like 400 words of sylvain POV of the training yard scene also? Last edited September 26th 2019, here you go:

Felix has always been smaller him, ever since they were kids. Still is these days, to Sylvain’s delight. He wondered about it plenty, these past two years--maybe Felix had a growth spurt. Maybe he caught up to Dimitri. Maybe Sylvain would meet him at the monastery and they’d see eye to eye. Of course they don’t. Felix is a head shorter than him, and he’ll never see things the way Sylvain does. Still. Sylvain thought about it. He’s had a lot of time to think about Felix since the last time he saw him, since Felix ran away. Still a crybaby at heart, no matter how sure he was he’d grown out of it. Not much has changed, Sylvain figures. Felix might have everyone else fooled with that delightfully sharp-edged exterior of his--a pretty decent feint, Sylvian should know--but Felix can’t hide from him. Sylvain sees him down to the bone. The two of them are a matched set: liars at heart.  Like right now. Felix is trying so hard not to cry, his back to the wall of the training yard, his grip tight around the wood of his training sword like he’s actually going to use it. Sylvain hopes he will. He hasn’t gotten to see Felix fight yet, really fight. He bets he’s gotten better. He bets he’s elegant and controlled—maybe less so with Sylvain, and wouldn’t that be nice? That’s how it goes sometimes, when Sylvain dreams about their last day together. Felix’s sword at his throat, biting and cold, ending all this before it began. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Sylvain wouldn’t have had to spend such an awfully long time missing him.  He bets Felix could make him hurt. Nothing seems to do that anymore, except for thoughts of Felix, the ones he can never stop worrying at like a bruise.  Sylvain doesn’t want much these days, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard: he wants Felix in a way that aches, delirious and unstoppable. It doesn’t matter so much how. Felix is welcome to cut him open or kiss him quiet or anything in between. As long as he never stops looking at Sylvain like he is now, hateful and just on the edge of tears, so clearly focused on nothing else. As long as Sylvain can have that, the rest doesn’t matter.  That’s love, Sylvain figures; the cheerful facade he gives the girls is nothing. He forgets about a new one every week. But Felix? He’ll be dead someday, and Felix will still have a grip on his heart, as tight as he’s holding his sword and just as dangerous.

and what exists of the sylvain POV sequel I never wrote:

Felix looks like shit. Of course he’s also beautiful. He’s radiant, for all that his hair’s a mess and his face is drawn and he’s got the kind of dark circles that only come from weeks and weeks of exhaustion. He’s Felix, right? He can’t be anything else. “You look like shit,” Sylvain tells him, because honesty is what Felix thinks he wants from him. He hasn’t seen Felix in six moons, but that probably hasn’t changed. “What are you doing here?” Felix asks. His horse stamps her feet and shakes her head, moving uneasily under him. Felix has never been a good rider. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate his mare, and she doesn’t appreciate him. Sylvain wonders how long Felix has been making his way across Faerghus like this. He wonders if he stole the horse. It’s awful not to know. “Looking for you,” Sylvain says. “They say you’re searching for the king.” Felix never could stop himself from chasing ghosts. Sylvain hates that about him. It’s just as unfair as everything else: it’s the only reason Sylvain is still here, after all.  “I am. And you should be defending Gautier territory.” “Got a message from your father,” Sylvain lies. He slides off his horse, patting her flank. Felix, clumsily, does the same. “He wants you to come home.” That part’s probably true.  Felix scoffs. “My old man can send all the messages he wants. I’m going to find the boar.” He means it. Sylvain can see that he means it, in the flinty look in his eyes, the fold of his arms, the jut of his chin as he looks up at Sylvain. It’s the saddest thing Sylvain’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of shit. “Felix,” he says. He reaches out. He can never help it, not when Felix is like this, not when he believes. Felix doesn’t flinch from Sylvain’s hand on his cheek anymore. “Sweetheart. You know he’s dead.” “Don’t call me that,” Felix says. But when he swings himself back in the saddle and Sylvain does the same, he doesn’t tell Sylvain not to follow. That’s more than good enough. 

[coquette2004]

hi!! I'm glad you had fun with my ask, Charles would definitely be great at a sleepover, and you are certainly allowed and even encouraged to tag more people to take part! :3

OMG thank you so much you're so sweet 💘!!

I'm going to tag @unanchored-ship, @acrossthewavesoftime @basket-lily and @defensivelee for this now xxx.

[vellichorom]

Hello Discord User Vellichorom AKA Twinkie AKA Velli AKA individual who’s character I love so much who has consumed my literal every day for the last year plus that I have not stopped thinking about (literally, over three hundred and sixty five days have gone buy and every single one of them I’ve had this man in my head, Vellichorom, do you know what you’ve done Vellichorom, you did this to me.) 

NOW I MAY BE UNHINGED ABOUT THIS MAN but how about I take a step back for a moment to just, talk about it? To discuss the absolute mastery I feel has been carefully and lovingly crafted into him? 

I’m really picky about the characters I like. Yeah I am fond of characters, I’ll like them and talk about them and whatever, but NOT ONCE has a character CONSUMED MY LITERAL BRAIN CELLS like Thierry has. Of course he has an amazing base to go off of, he IS THE NARRATOR, and I will admit that I absolutely ADORE TSP and all of the lore that has been crafted into him... but that alone was not enough for me to be purely interested in him for a long period of time (cough: see me not doing much tsp stuff aside from Thierry cough) 

The way that you have woven in every aspect of TSP and its canon into him, and then MADE IT EVEN BETTER AND MENTAL-ILLNESS-INDUCING has got me gripping the edge of my seat like a feral goblin every time you post literally ANYTHING about him ever. You blended TSP/TSPCC/adjacent lore together in a way that makes Thierry his own thing and also the perfect embodiment of the Narrator.

I have hyper fixations that wane and grow over time, things that I have enjoyed for long stints, but NEVER, EVER, Has there been ONE CHARACTER that has captured my attention so wholly. 

Looking at just him as a character, I adore the way you actually embrace and show off his flaws in a way that feels so human and also just like the weird fucking creature that The Narrator obviously is. You paid SO MUCH attention to detail and THAT SHOWS! IT DOES!! The Narrator is EGOTISTICAL, he is AN ASSHOLE, HE IS NOT PERFECT! EVER!I won’t shit on other people for wanting that for their own interpretations, but by god if you aren’t one of the like, two other people I’ve seen PERFECTLY capture that in his actions and behavior. You interpret the scenes in TSP/UD with such a nuanced and in depth eye with Thierry that I actually ENVY YOU FOR IT because I WANT TO DO THAT TOO. The expression of his ego balanced with his simultaneous self-loathing is just a perfect coat of icing on the proverbial cake. You miraculously made this man exactly as loveable and hateable as the straight up copy-pasted canon. I want him to suffer, and I love him so much, and I feel awful for him, and I think he’s an asshole. 

His relationship with Rosemary? Do I even HAVE to say anything? No, I don’t, but IM GOING TO. 

I seriously have never understood how you and Tomie so amazingly captured that Stanley/Narrator relationship through Gore/Guts in such an AWE INSPIRING, BEAUTIFUL, AND HORRIFIC way. Like, I genuinely do not know how to put into words the way that I absolutely ADORE this interpretation of it. The never ending spiral of desperation, need and reliance that the Narrator has on Stanley (and vice versa) is FLAWLESSLY executed and showcased with Rosemary/Thierry. I know I don’t really talk about Gogu as much as I talk about Thierry, but I have said it before and I will say it again, they are AMAZING, THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL, AND I CANNOT THINK OF ANY LITERALLY ANY NARRATOR X  RELATIONSHIP THAT PERFECTLY EXEMPLIFIES THE WAY THAT THE NARRATOR WOULD BE WITH SOMEONE, AND THE HORRORS THAT COME WITH IT. EVER. 

And the most amazing part is that you, YOU, a fucking EXCELLENT, BEAUTIFUL, TALENTED ARTIST, have made THE design ever. THE. DESIGN. EVER. No exceptions. OBVIOUSLY the enjoyment of a design of a character of such a nature is mostly up to personal taste, but for one second can we stand back and think about who the fuck we’re talking about? 

We can go based off of a few things:

His VA, Kevan Brighting: Mr. Brighting is a fat, old man. He has JOWLS, he has WRINKLES, he has WEIGHT not only to himself, but his voice. OBVIOUSLY not all VAs match their characters, but when you consider someone’s voice and the voice you assign TO a character, you usually want it to mimic that, and The voice that Mr. Brighting does for the Narrator is literally just that. And old, crotchety, fat british man. 

Specifically based on his Voice: Again, to piggy back off of what I was just saying, a character is meant to match the voice, you can hear the way he slightly slurs/mushes his words together, (which, by the way, if people didn’t know, slight lisps can be caused by more weight/fat being in the face! :D) You can hear him creaking around in his chair!

Based on context clues/general ideas of what the character is doing/does: The Narrator, as described in the game, is old (context clues people, context clues), codes/can create things using code, is not human (‘various human sensibilities’ gives that RIGHT away) and sits in a chair coding/reading shit most of the time. If anyone looks me in the eyes and tells me that a person who does that would not at least be heavy set, I will wack them with a stick. 

ALL OF THAT BEING SAID: this means that YOU MADE HIM! Look at him! Look at that man! It’s FUCKING HIM, ITS THE NARRATOR REAL! HE’S REALLL!!! I don’t give a flying fuck what my bias says, if I think of the Narrator I am going to think of someone that looks either like Kevan Brighting, or Thierry Ellis-Baker. There is no other thing for me. I can kinda smush other designs into it, and see it that way via The Square Hole /ref - but it will ALWAYS AND FOREVER be that. He’s an omnipresent voice that doesn’t show himself, when he’s not, he is NOT WEARING A SUIT. But he is FASHIONABLE, WHO is looking at him, seeing the fact that he wears a fucking fancy, flowing, stylish cardigan WITH A GOLD CHAIN, and saying NO He LOokS lIke A sLOb??? Because you are literally wrong, I would AND HAVE worn things that are LESS FANCY than that in professional settings. He’s wearing a turtleneck sweater, dress pants, and some comfy BUT PRESENTABLE shoes. If someone thinks he looks slobby they’re delusional. Like what do they think? That that old man should be wearing a suit for whatever fucking reason??? In his Office??? In his chair while sitting on his fat ass? (NOT TO SAY THAT HE CAN’T, AND I KNOW THIERRY HAS, AND CAN, AND WOULD IF HE NEEDED TO, BUT WHO ON GOD’S GREEN EARTH, ESPECIALLY WHEN CODING AND SHIT, WANTS TO WEAR A SUIT 24/7)  Also, tacking this on here at the end, you have helped SO much with my comfort with acknowledging my own body weight, accepting it, and liking myself more than literally anyone could ever have, and Thierry is a HUGE part of that for SO many reasons.

I love everything about him, Vellichorom, and it is of my humble opinion that everyone who does not and looks at him like he is anything less than what The Narrator is at his most basic, are dirty little liars who are jealous

TL;DR: Anyone who is disrespectful and disregards the expert care, craft, and love that has gone into Thierry lore and design wise can go and suck the fattest, dirtiest rock they find outside in a river, and report back to me in fourteen business days with their illnesses so I can laugh at them :)

Thank you for coming to my two+ page essay/TED Talk Uh... oh yeah this is an ask box... uh... what's your favorite fun fact about Thierry/Romary? :)

ujm jm, umm um that they love you

[lilybug-02]

You’re making a lot of promises there Chara…

Part 24 || First || Previous || Next

—Full Series—

I enjoyed doing this little Flashback scene. We’ll be back to our regularly scheduled freakout session soon. Having monochrome color is very nice.

Here is a gif of Chara spilling their water because YES. And I spent way too long on it :)

Wow technology is so cool.

[grelleswife]

A Children’s Day illustration from Lily, starring two formidable hitmen and the beloved daughter who led them into their househusband era.

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