#ftws silrah

[faytalepsy]

The touch of your hand

(1) Silrah (Farah Dowling/Saul Silva) (2) Skloom (Bloom/Sky) (3) Katerra (Kat/Terra) (4) Rivusa (Riven/Musa) (5) Stellatrix (Stella/Beatrix) (6) Greysha (Grey/Aisha)

All my Fate Hand Touch drawings so far! Which one is your favorite?

[expectiations]

I can't do without you (Saul Silva, 2022).

[flamemothers]

saul silva to farah dowling, probably

[qu4kerider]

I'll always need more fanfics that connects rivusa and silrah

[lottiehenrietta]

Matches Burn

Happy HEX, Di!!

@foullightdiplomatcreator-blog, it's me again! I loved loved loved your prompt, and now your gift is all wrapped up with a little red bow, waiting to be unpacked on AO3 :))

(and of course, there's a moodboard because I just can't help myself)

December. The time of joy and love, wasn't it? It had been once, long ago, before Farah had conjured a strike of lightning that had shattered it all. The demons that haunt her every Christmas seem even more stubborn than her. But at least they have each other, their bond and the tiny little matching details that tie them together.

[somenamewithepineapple]

Time After Time

Happy HEX Season @lustrouswhite 🎉💙

Being your secret anon made me so happy (and scared the hell out of me tbh) that I just couldn't stop writing. That's why it took me so long to finally finish this chapter. I intended to post this before New Year's in your country but then I realised you're a whole 12 hours ahead (I know, I know NZ is on the other side of the world but there's a difference between knowing that and actually bothering to look at the actual time difference whoops)

That's why you're getting not a Christmas but a New Year's Gift from me for you to read once you have cell reception again. I hope you had a great party with your friends and got appropriately shitfaced 💖 and don't forget to stay hydrated!

Have fun with your gift and see you in the future!

[myalchod]

Kiss prompt: Silrah + nr 36

Why hello there, neglected inbox! I'm so sorry I've been ignoring you. And I'm so sorry it took me freaking forever to write this one, Hillie -- hope you enjoy it! 💙

36. a kiss to give up control - [ also on AO3 ]

He watches as she paces the length of her office. The sound is so familiar he could play it from memory: heels a precise click against the wood, muffling slightly as she steps onto the carpet, then sharp once more before she reaches her desk, pivoting to start the process again. He knows exactly why she’s doing it — this only happens when she’s worked up about something — and he knows why just as well. How could he not, when he knows that today will deliver news that could change everything?

A year ago, this would have been alien to them both — but a year ago their world had not yet shattered. So much has changed; he need only look at her to see that made manifest, the elaborate twisted hairstyles and sleekly professional dresses she wears far more reminiscent of Solaria’s monarch than Alfea’s former headmistress. They suit her, but he wonders how much of her decision was born of distancing herself from Rosalind’s shadow. For such a small woman, their general still looms large over them all.

“What time is it?”

“Two minutes since you asked last.” He stretches out his legs, ignoring the glare she shoots him when he tucks one booted foot against the edge of the low coffee table. It’s good to know he can still get under her skin, but it’s better to find glimpses of his fairy underneath the put-together woman who has served out the year as Alfea’s interim headmistress. He knows she wants this; they’ve talked about it, after all, the two of them alone and also together with Ben, and Farah has made it clear this isn’t just about warding the place where they’d imprisoned Rosalind. Sometimes he thinks he knew how much Alfea called her before she did, when the Farah of before had been so intent on following in Rosalind’s footsteps and proving herself a hardened soldier. But even if she has not admitted it to herself, he can see how much she cares; why else would the decision they sit her awaiting leave her as twisted into knots as she is?

Click, click, and back to carpet-muffled thuds. She stops before him this time; he tips his head back, offers her reassurance along with a smile, watches the corners of her mouth twitch upward for a moment before she sighs once again, tucking an errant strand back behind her ear. “How can you be so calm?”

“Because we’ve done all we can. Either Luna holds up her side of this bargain and we have nothing to worry about, or she doesn’t and it becomes her headache.” The reality is not nearly as simple, when leaving runs the risk of Rosalind walking free after all of their efforts, but he doesn’t think the Solarian monarch is blind to the risks that would pose. She and Farah may have their own fraught history, but she’s not an idiot, and only an idiot could ignore the danger Rosalind Hale poses, knowing what they all now know.

She looks at him for a long moment, but says nothing before she resumes pacing. Saul sighs and leans his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes and listening to the sound. There is still, by his calculations, the better part of a half-hour before the board will finish, and he’s pretty sure she’s going to wear a groove into the floor before then. And while, if he’s being honest, he’s not quite sanguine about the outcome of the meeting taking place right now, he’s better at hiding it — and better at admitting that they’ve done all they can at this point.

The knot of anxiety in his head pulls tighter with each step. The impact of her heels sets his nerves vibrating in response. If he doesn’t do something soon, one or the other of them may well burst, and so he pushes to his feet, glancing at his watch as he does.

Thirty-seven minutes.

She pulls to an abrupt stop when he plants himself in her path, eyes narrowing. When she shifts her weight to one side he reaches up, hands curling around her arms as he steps in close, closer, until her back fetches up against the bookcase and her chin tips back to look at him. “Saul, what —”

His lips against hers steal the rest of her words. For a moment she stiffens, surprise rather than protest, but when he pulls back just slightly her mouth chases his own until he tuts out a warning.

“Pretty sure in thirty-six minutes you’re gonna be the one in charge. Until they tell us, it’s my turn.”

Her eyes widen for a moment before she laughs, something soft and fond, and leans back against the shelf. “Go on, then, headmaster. Do your worst.”

The twist of nerves is still there in the bond, though, the tension still coiling tight inside her; if he released her, he is certain she would start pacing again. But just because he’s aware of how time is ticking down doesn’t mean he won’t take up the challenge of making her forget the meeting — and everything else he possibly can — in the time left them, and as he nips at her lower lip, the moan she breathes into his mouth only spurs him on.

[ ask me another ] [ all answers ]

[partiallypearl]

Doomsday is close at hand I'll book the marching band To play as you speak

[aserene]

snow & sweatshirts, because I agreed to OTP 2025

@luciechat 0, @aserene 1

I think I just wrote the prequel to snow. crap.

[faytalepsy]

Firsts

2021

2025

Starting off the Winxsource Rewatch Promptfest by redrawing my First ever Fate Artwork that I drew right after watching the first Episode back in 2021 when the Show was released. That scene between Farah and Saul at the end of the episode just immediately had my shipping senses tingling and well we all know how that ended…

This is the hug they both deserved after episode 1 aka all their trauma coming back to haunt them.

It’s nice to see my art style now and back then side by side like this!! Showing the fact that my only way to draw windows has not changed at all *-* Where do you think I improved most?

[winxsource]

FTWS Holiday Exchange 2024

Hello Fate fandom!

2024 is going to be our fourth HEX and we can't wait to see what everyone creates!

Event Timeline:

October 1: Signups begin

October 18th: Signups close

October 20th: The mods distribute matches. The secrets begin!

October - November - December: Work on your gifts, anonymously message your giftees, and chat with us while you work!

December 26th: Posting begins

December 31st: Posting ends

How It Works:

The Holiday Exchange works like a Secret Santa: You receive something, but you also have to gift something.

You will fill out the google form telling us what ships and formats you want to be gifted, and what you're willing to give.

You can make or choose to receive a fic, a fanart, gifset or fan video.

New this year: You can also sign up to be a beta using the google form!

We (the WinxSource team) will match you up with someone with similar preferences and send you the details for you to make your gift.

All of this is a secret, so you’ll only reveal who you’re gifting once posting begins.

Rules:

To sign up, please follow WinxSource and fill out the google form here.

As a matter of fairness, if you're writing a fic, please make your story at least 1000 words, a gifset at least 2 gifs long, or a video at least 1 minute long.

This is an exchange for fictional characters, not real people fiction (RPF).

Assignments are a secret, but we also want to revel in the process! Once you get your assignment, we encourage you to ANONYMOUSLY contact the person you’ll be gifting. Reach out on anon to ask for more details on the prompt, tease your giftee, or just to let your match know you're working on their gift. Part of the fun is trying to guess who’s doing a gift for you!

If you sign up for the event but something happens that you can't produce the gift in time, you must contact us and let us know so we can find someone else to make the gift in your place.

(NEW): Your entire gift must be posted in the posting window. You are welcome to write a multichap, or create more than one fanart, gifset, or video, but everything must be complete and posted by December 31st. We want to make the event more fun for recipients who are not waiting weeks or months for the entirety of their gift.

(NEW): We are a creative server who supports artists. We will not allow any gifts that are created using generative AI - this includes fics, gifs, fanart, video edits, and songs.

(NEW): You must create a new project. You may not continue an existing project, no matter how closely it resembles what your giftee is asking for. No adding chapters to existing fics or series of drawings/gifsets/videos. Let's give something brand new!

When posting on tumblr, please tag #winxsource and #ftwsholidayexchange within the first 5 tags so we can reblog it! This includes anon asks you receive about your gift. Fic writers can also add their works to the collection on ao3 (ftws_holidayexchange21)

When you post during the window, don't forget to @ the user you made the gift for!

[expectiations]

Lighting the Fire — Sarah Rees Brennan

silrah crumbs from the book

[arlovegood]

A long forgotten Silrah Drabble

HELLOOOOOO! Long time no see folks, Grad program has been a pain in my ass and God do I wish every day more and more that I was born an heiress. But alas, I come here because I found this little WIP in my long long list of unfinished drafts and really liked what I wrote. I'll probably never continue this as I have no idea where I was going with it, but decided to published what I had.

This is for all of my Silrah girlies out there, and most of all to the incredible @septemberrie who was the one who once got me very interested in them. Hope you guys like it.

He still remembers the first time he gathered the courage to talk to her. He, the orphan worthy of pity who looked more like a baby duck constantly holding onto his popular best friend. She, older, cool, unattached, Rosalind’s golden girl.

To be truthful the only reason he ever spoke to her at all was because Ben - that little piece of shit - turned the cafeteria ground into quicksand for just the amount of time necessary for Saul to lose his balance and fall straight into her table.

He could still recall it. Her piercing stare. She knew who he was, he didn’t know how he knew that but he was sure. What she didn’t know was what the fuck he was doing there, at her table.

To be fair neither did he but well c'est la vie 

It was one of the bravest - and later he would learn best - things he ever did, to sit at her table - visible empty but without giving her the air of a loner - and mutter a single Hi

He doesn't remember what led to it, but suddenly they were talking and it felt nice, like she understood him, and he got her.

That day was also the day that he learned that Farrah Dowling, despite what everyone thought, was no goodie two shoes.

They had been talking for what felt like a long while when he spotted someone making their way to the table they were both currently sitting in. 

Aubrey, or was it Ashley? He couldn’t remember, all he knew was that she was Andreas' latest attempt at trying to help Saul ‘get his dick wet’ as his friend so eloquently put it.

It wasn’t that she was not good looking, she was, very much, otherwise Andreas would never even know her name - thinking about it Saul wondered if he actually did? - but Saul was not really that enthusiastic about hooking up with his friends left overs - he wasn’t stupid enough to believe Aubrey/Ashley hadn’t at least given his roommate a blowjob - and he remembered that when he kissed her, her mouth tasted like the herbs Ben’s father made them study about and honestly, he just wanted to not deal with it. All of it. 

The pink haired specialist caught Farah’s attention too and the mind fairy turned to him with a raised eyebrow and asked:

“Friend of yours?”

“Not really”

“Hum”

And Saul was already mentally preparing himself for whatever scenario could succeed.

Would Aubrey/Ashley want to hook up again? Did she want to humiliate him and tell him his kiss sucked - he never had any complaints but you could never be sure. Did she want to know where Andreas was for a repeat of their he wasn’t sure but probably was correct about blowjob session? 

He hoped it was the last, even if he had no idea where Andy was - off on an orgy outside the barrier? Probably. Andreas liked to get his blood pumping.

What he was not expecting was that the girl would abruptly stop mid journey and start looking completely nauseated, even dropping her lunch tray to hold her stomach and then proceed to dash out the canteen’s door. He stood there blinking for a couple seconds trying to understand what had just transpired. 

He turned to Farah to see if she was just as confused as he was and that was when he saw it. You see, to any onlooker, Farah’s face looked the exact same, not even a muscle twitch out of place. But Saul saw it, the glint in her eyes, not of magic - that disappeared very quickly - but of mirth. The glint of someone who did something they probably shouldn’t have yet they enjoyed it.

It felt like all the lessons were coming back to him. Mind fairies, the underdogs of the magical world, often overlooked by everyone, yet some of the most powerful ones, capable not only of feeling what’s inside your head but also making you feel whatever they wish you to do.

And he knew that it was her. Farah had made Aubrey/Ashley sick and she hadn’t even batted an eyelash while doing it. Was it odd that it kinda turned him on? Andy would probably say it wasn’t, but then again, Andreas hated Farah's Guts - for what reason Saul wasn’t sure - so maybe he would hit Saul in the head to get him to get over it.

She looked at him then, raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to question her. She knew he knew. But Saul didn’t, instead, he simply signed and said:

"Guess Doris will have to check the food. It seems something nasty fell on it” And the little twitch in the corner of her mouth told him something he could not yet understand. Told him of a future as partners. The best fairy/specialist duo Alfea had ever seen. Told him of war and hurt, told him of a friendship that would survive the worst times and the gravest of mistakes. 

It also told him of eternal blue balls but it was for the best that he didn’t know that particular bit yet.

[simplytheevebest]

Farah the Fern AU

Chapter 8: Farah's giving Saul the silent treatment.

So I'm in the shower this morning and my brain said "haha what if you wrote something for Farah the Fern" and I said "wouldn't that be nice, if only I had the inspiration" and my brain said "jot this down" and I damn near rushed out of there with soap still in my hair because when the muse talks, you listen, quick.

So we all collectively lost our minds at those photos of Eve in Mexico right? The hair, the dress, the vibe, it's everything. I'm gonna scream.

Farah the Fern Masterlist

“Farah please.”

Saul’s been kneeling on the floor so long he’s either lost feeling or he’s numb to the ache. He’d paced a bit earlier, but wasn’t sure if that came across more aggressive, his towering over her like that. So instead he kneels before the coffee table, devoted and apologetic for whatever sin he’s committed. The fern is unresponsive, not a twitch of leaves to show she’s listening, nor even the re-furling of the fronds to show she’s not. She hasn’t turned into a cactus though, which Saul takes as a good sign. He just wishes he knew what he’d done to get the silent treatment.

“I’ll make it up to you if only you tell me what I’m trying to make up,” Saul pleads. He’s not above begging, not when it’s Farah. Maybe asking is part of the problem, maybe this is one of those “you should know why you’re apologizing” issues, and his ignorance is fuel to the fire of her ire.

“I’m sorry, for whatever it is. I didn’t mean it. Or I do mean it, whichever makes you less mad,” Saul tries, knowing he’s either digging himself deeper into a hole, or out: either way, he’s digging.

“What are you doing?”

Saul turns his head to the door, where Farah leans against the frame, arms folded loosely around her middle.

“I’m trying to figure out why you’re mad at me,” Saul answers automatically, then does a double takes, stands so abruptly his cramping legs fail him. He knocks into the coffee table and almost knocks over the not-Farah fern, then is forced to clutch at the nearest armchair, pins and needles lancing up and down the numb appendages. He rubs at them, twisting his neck up to look at her, standing there with her lips pressed thin together and her eyes lit with mirth, then back to the unresponsive fern on the table almost accusingly.

“How long have you been talking to that fern?” Farah asks, and she’s not even trying to hide the tremulous undercurrent of laughter in her tone.

“Depends, how long have you not been a fern?”

“Since this morning,” Farah steps fully into the room, “The girls wanted my opinion on something and I had some magic reserved so I thought I’d make a day of it.”

“‘Bout that long then,” Saul says a little sheepishly, “I thought you were just ignoring me, I got back from the morning training and you- er, it wouldn’t respond to me.”

“And I thought we’d spend a pleasant afternoon together, I never dreamed I’d find you enthralled by another plant. Should I be offended, or jealous?” Farah teases, coming to stand close enough she can straighten the wrinkled lines of his shirt. Unnecessary, because it’s just a t-shirt, not some nice buttoned up thing he has to worry about the appearance of. But she does this, or she’s been doing this, finding little excuses to initiate physical contact when she’s back to her old self. Saul knows she misses it, when she’s not her old self.

“Neither, your fronds are nicer,” Saul teases back, and Farah bats at his chest with a tsk. He reaches up to toy with a bit of her hair: it’s been a while since she’s stood before him like this, and the caramel has lightened to more of a butterscotch.

“Your hair’s lighter,” Saul comments, and Farah huffs.

“I think I’ve been getting too much sun.”

“I like it,” Saul grins and leans in a little, not enough, but clear in his intent, “How much longer have you got?”

“At least until tomorrow morning,” Farah answers; she slides her arms around his neck in a practiced, easy motion at the same time Saul steps closer, hands on her hips.

“Good, clearly I’ve got to make up for lost time.”

“You sure it’s me you want to spend time with? Not your other fern friend?” Farah teases and Saul kisses the tip of her nose; she scrunches it in response.

“You’re the only fern for me,” Saul retorts and Farah bursts out laughing.

[junkshop-disco]

❄️ Hold My Heart and Watch It Burn ❄️

As the winter break looms, Saul thinks his biggest problem is coaching Sky through which spoon to use so his meet-the-parents stay with Stella doesn't land him in jail for a crime of manners. It's not, it's that he's about to invite Farah to check out a new restaurant on the High Street.

It's not a date.

But, as they both realise far too late, it's not quite not a date, either. (Farah/Saul, 18k total, wintery fluff with angst, rated M)

Read chapter 1 here.

Written for the @winxsource HEX event for darling H @lustrouswhite, with thanks to @skloomdumpster & @fitztragedy for all their hard work on making the event such fun and to @shadowofnight and @septemberrie for the terrifying countdown posts. I love everyone in this bar. Server. Whatever. ✨🧚‍♂️

[myalchod]

Silrah and 32 pleaseee

Bringing back the "what the fluff" tag for this one, methinks, though I very nearly went in the precise opposite direction.

32. a kiss to wake up - [ also on AO3 ]

“But curses don’t exist.”

“Just try,” Bloom urges from the doorway, where she and the rest of the Winx hang back in a knot. There is a undercurrent of concern from them, quiet murmurs aloud and in her mind alike. “It can’t hurt, can it?”

Oh, but it can. It can. To kiss him would be to admit so much that she’s held back through their years together, to cross the line they’ve danced around for as long as she can remember without ever acknowledging it. They are friends, partners, have been bedmates, but somehow this is so much heavier, especially when the stories of old are all too clear about what can break a curse. (Assuming it’s real. Which she’s still not admitting.)

And maybe they don’t exist, but reality is Saul lying still but for the too-shallow rise and fall of his chest, completely unaware of the world around him in a way that feels entirely unnatural, curse or not. Even in sleep he has always had a readiness born of years in dangerous situations; the war had only deepened his naturally light sleeping habits, and she can remember many a night when she’d started awake to find him already upright, head cocked as he listened to the woods around them. None of that is present now; his lashes fall dark against pale skin, mouth slightly slack, breath nearly silent. His mind, when she reaches for it, feels impossibly distant.

If she is to do this, she will have to be honest with herself. That doesn’t mean he has to know, however — all that matters is having her specialist at her side again, whatever it may cost her. With everything she carries, one more secret should be nothing, especially when she has locked those feelings away for so long already.

“Girls — out.”

They protest — no surprise — but subside in fairly short order, and it isn’t long before the door clicks shut somewhere behind her and the worried mutter of their thoughts retreat. Alone, Farah sinks down on the edge of the narrow bed, cupping a hand against his face. Even now, he remains warm. It would be so easy to pretend, if she closed her eyes, sinking back into the memory of those rare times she’s woken up beside him, soft and relaxed before all that they are intrudes once more, but she cannot allow herself that. If she is to do this, to try, it must be without illusions.

The truth, then: she loves him, not only as the friend and partner and lifelong companion he has been. She’s in love with him — at least, as best she can understand such a thing. Rosalind’s voice rings in her ears even now, reminding her of how similar they are, of all the times she’s pushed aside the weakness of emotion to become unyielding steel. And yet through it all Saul had been there, a steady glow at the edge of her thoughts even when things were darkest. How can she not do whatever it takes for him, after everything? How can she not, when she knows he would do nothing less for her?

(Curses may not be real. This may be an exercise in futility. But she loves him, gods help her, and nothing remains but to try, and to acknowledge that this has nothing to do with what she may owe him and everything to do with …)

His lips are soft when she traces her thumb across them, chapped enough to catch slightly against her skin. She wets her own as she looks down at him. He’d laugh if he saw her sitting like this, so unsure about such a simple gesture — or perhaps he wouldn’t, but if she doesn’t do this, she’ll never know. That is, in this moment, the only certainty she has.

Come back to me, she thinks — pleads, nearly, if only within her own mind, and then closes the distance between them to set her mouth to his.

If it’s a curse, then surely she should feel something. Every time she has felt magic break, there has been some sort of physical sensation, from the faintest of shivers to a sound like a thunderclap. But she feels nothing besides the warmth of his lips against her own, the faint shift of his ribs and the even quieter flutter of his heart and the prickle of stubble against her palm, and her own heart sinks in her chest. They must have been wrong. Life is not a storybook; she should know that by now, after all that she has seen.

But when she pulls back blue eyes are looking at her, still hazy with sleep but open, present. As she watches, disbelieving, the corners of his mouth pull up.

“Breathe, Farah.” The words are rusty, sleep-rough. Her hand is still against his face. As he covers it with his own, air shudders back into her lungs and something slides back into place inside her.

Always, he answers, to that earlier whisper of a thought, and now it is her turn to smile.

[ ask me another ] [ all answers ]