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ahqkas · 5 months ago

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♯ PRACTICE MAKES IT BETTER ; theodore nott

PAIRING! theodore nott x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! struggling with the local slang, you feel out of place until you meet theodore nott, the silent slytherin (based off this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 2.3k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, kissing + lmk !

NOTES! reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :)

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

AMERICA WAS VIBRANT AND DIVERSE. The music scene was thriving with genres like grunge, hip-hop, and pop dominating the airwaves. To you, it was a place of contrasts and boundless possibilities. It was a land where towering skyscrapers stood next to historic buildings, and where you could find everything from bustling cities to quiet, open countryside. The diversity was striking; every state feels like its own little world, with different cultures, foods, and ways of life. It was a country where you could experience all four seasons, with hot summers, cold winters, and vibrant springs and autumns. The sheer size and variety made it feel like there was always something new to explore, whether it was a national park, a music festival, or just a quirky little town.

Then you moved to England.

Leaving behind the familiar sights and sounds of America, you stepped into a new world of magic and centuries-old traditions.

The first thing you noticed was the climate change. England's weather was full of frequent rain and cloudy skies. You had to get used to bringing an umbrella everywhere with you.

Hogwarts in Scotland was completely different from Ilvermorny, which resided on Mount Greylock. The towering buildings of the castle intimidated you a bit as you were used to the more modern school, but you were excited for the change of scenery.

The stone corridors, moving staircases, and enchanted portraits had captivated your imagination. The castle itself was full of new discoveries. Sure, you missed your old friends dearly, every one of them, but the owls worked hard and you managed to make new friends here.

As an exchange student from America, walking the hallowed halls of Hogwarts was a totally new experience. The ancient castle with its sprawling grounds, enchanted staircases, and hidden passageways was like stepping into a dream. But it wasn't just the magical environment that threw you off balance; it was the British slang that seemed to pop up in every conversation.

During your first week, you found yourself constantly bewildered by the new expressions. At breakfast, when a cheerful Hufflepuff asked if you wanted a "banger" with your eggs, you hesitated, unsure if it was an insult or a menu item. When a Ravenclaw mentioned being "knackered" after a long night of studying, you had to suppress a laugh, thinking it sounded more like a sound effect from a comic book than an expression of exhaustion.

The confusion was endless: "snogging" instead of kissing, "knickers" instead of underwear, "blimey" instead of a simple exclamation of surprise. You did your best to keep up, but the nuances of the language often left you feeling like you were missing the punchline of a joke. To put it simply, you were lost.

One afternoon, you were sitting in the library, poring over a stack of books for a Transfiguration assignment, when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Ciao, piccola," Theodore Nott drawled, sliding into the seat across from yours. His presence was effortlessly welcomed, with his cool demeanor and piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. He was a strange boy at first, never letting anyone, but when you warmed up to him, he was a totally new person.

"Hi, Theo," you greeted him with a smile playing on your lips. Theodore had been one of the first students to approach you, his Italian heritage a surprising connection. He often teased you in his native language, enjoying the way you fumbled with the unfamiliar phrases. A nuisance, that he was.

"Come va la tua giornata?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ("How's your day doing?")

Already hearing this phrase a few times, you learned to understand its translation. With a sigh, you ran a hand through your hair. "It's been . . . interesting. I'm still trying to understand half of what everyone says here."

Theo chuckled, the sound rich and warm to your ears. "British slang getting to you?"

"You could say that," you admitted, leaning back in your chair as you watched his amusement at your misery. "I feel like I need a translator just for conversations."

"Well, if you think British slang is confusing, wait until I teach you some Italian slang," Theo smirked at the idea that appeared on his mind. "It's a whole different level."

Now this got your attention. "Teach me, then. It can't be that difficult from the British slang."

Over the next few weeks, Theodore Nott became your informal language tutor. He started with simple phrases, weaving them into everyday conversations until you began to pick them up naturally. He taught you how to greet someone with "Ciao, amico!" instead of a formal "Buongiorno," and how to say "Andiamo!" when you were ready to go.

One rainy afternoon, as you sat together in the Great Hall, Theo decided to test your knowledge. The rain tapped persistently against the high, arched windows, casting a muted gray light across the large hall. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the sky outside, swirling with dark clouds and flashes of lightning that illuminated the space completely. Despite the dreary weather, the Great Hall buzzed with the soft hum of student conversations, punctuated by the clinking of silverware and the rustling of pages.

Theo, seated across from you at the Slytherin table, leaned back casually, a mischievous glint in his eye. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, framing his sharp features. You had grown accustomed to his teasing, the way he delighted in challenging you with phrases in Italian, watching with amusement as you thought through the unfamiliar language. Today was no different, his eyes scanning the hall as if seeking inspiration for his next test.

You had been in the midst of revising for an upcoming Charms exam, your notes spread out around you in a chaotic array of parchment and textbooks. The soft light from the floating candles above cast a warm glow on the pages, making the ink shimmer slightly. As Theo's gaze returned to you, you knew another one of his lessons was coming.

"What would you say if you were really tired?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Theo's questions were always a blend of practical and playful, designed to push you just a little further each time. He spoke with the ease of someone completely comfortable in his skin, his words flowing like the rain outside, steady and sure. His Italian phrases, though foreign at first, began to weave themselves into the mind of your understanding.

Your responses grew more confident, the hesitation in your voice diminishing with each passing day. You found yourself thinking in Italian at times, the language slipping into your thoughts as naturally as your own. Theo's delight was evident, his eyes lighting up whenever you got something right, his praise sincere and heartfelt.

The rain outside showed no signs of letting up, but within the Great Hall, a warmth lingered.

You thought for a moment, then confidently replied, "Sono stanca morta." The phrase rolled off your tongue more smoothly than before, each syllable a small victory in your journey to master his native language. The meaning — "I'm dead tired" — was all too familiar after long days filled with classes and studying.

Theo laughed, the sound rich and genuine, echoing softly in the near-empty Great Hall. His laughter was like a reward, a confirmation that you were getting it right. Silver eyes sparkled with approval, the corners of his lips curling into a smile that made your heart flutter. The warmth of his reaction was comforting against the dreary, rain-soaked afternoon outside.

"Well done!" His voice was filled with genuine pride and delight, making you feel accomplished. His praise was never out of place; it was always heartfelt.

Your heart swelled with a mix of pride and joy. Learning Italian was not just about understanding a new language, but also about bridging the gap between your worlds. Each phrase, each word, was a step closer to understanding Theo better, and a way to connect on a deeper level.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching yours, waiting for your next move. "And if you wanted to compliment someone on a job well done?" His question was another gentle challenge, pushing you to dig deeper into your newfound vocabulary.

"Bravo!" you answered without hesitation. The word felt natural, a perfect fit for the context. As you spoke, you couldn't help but smile, the simple word carrying a world of meaning and mutual respect. Seeing the approval in Theo's eyes, you felt a surge of confidence.

Theo's smile broadened, and his expression softened with pride and admiration. The approval in his eyes was more than just about your grasp of the language; it was about your willingness to immerse yourself in something new, to share a part of his heritage, to make an effort to connect.

The atmosphere around you felt lighter, the earlier tension of the day's studies dissolving into a shared moment of triumph and connection. The Great Hall, with its towering windows and ancient stone walls, seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little world of language and laughter.

The candles above flickered gently, casting a warm glow that danced across Theo's features, highlighting the pride in his eyes.

One day, as you walked together by the Black Lake, the cold water reflecting the moody sky, Theo turned to you, his expression thoughtful. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the ancient trees that lined the shore, their branches swaying rhythmically as if in silent conversation. The scene was picturesque, the expanse of the lake stretching out before you, a serene contrast to the bustling life within the castle walls. It was quiet out here, and you liked this spot.

"You know, you've picked up Italian slang faster than I expected," Theo remarked, his voice carrying a hint of admiration and surprise. His thoughtful tone blended seamlessly with the natural sounds around you, creating a moment of perfect harmony.

You laughed, the sound bright and carefree, echoing across the still waters. Nudging him playfully, you replied, "Maybe I had a good teacher." The playful banter was a reflection of the easy camaraderie that had developed between you, a testament to the countless hours spent learning and laughing together.

Theo's smile softened at your words, a tender expression that seemed to light up his face. His gaze lingered on you, the depth of his affection and pride evident in his eyes. The way he looked at you made your heart flutter, each shared glance made your knees tremble. Like you were the only girl at Hogwarts.

"Maybe," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a warmth that enveloped you. "Or maybe you just have a knack for languages." His words were a gentle compliment, a recognition of your efforts and abilities.

The path around the Black Lake was peaceful, the occasional ripple disturbing the otherwise mirror-like surface of the water. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and damp earth. As you walked side by side, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, the rest of the universe fading into the background.

Your footsteps synchronized, a silent dance of familiarity and comfort. The conversations flowed effortlessly, alternating between Italian lessons and shared dreams, each word weaving a tapestry of understanding and companionship. Theo's presence was a constant, steady and reassuring, his thoughtful insights and quiet encouragements a source of strength.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the landscape. The twilight hues painted the sky in shades of pink and orange, a breathtaking sight that added to the magic of the moment. Theo's silhouette against the backdrop of the setting sun was a picture of serenity and quiet strength, a reminder of the stability he brought into your life.

Before you could fully process what was happening, the Slytherin boy took a small step closer, closing the distance between you. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, his proximity sending a gentle thrill through your body. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up your arm.

In that moment, with the golden light of dusk casting a magical glow around you, Theo leaned in. His movements were deliberate, filled with a tender hesitation. As his lips met yours, the world seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of pure, unadulterated connection.

The kiss was gentle at first, a soft press of lips that spoke everything you needed to know. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the gentle caress of his hand against your cheek — it all combined to create a sensation that was both exhilarating and deeply comforting.

Theo's hand moved to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. The kiss deepened, becoming more confident, more insistent. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. The connection between you intensified, the kiss becoming a language of its own, expressing everything words couldn't.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. The world slowly came back into focus, the sounds of nature reasserting themselves around you. Theo's eyes, still holding that mix of affection and awe, met yours. A soft, contented smile played on his lips.

"Grazie, Theo," you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude.

"For what?" he asked confused, his brow furrowing slightly.

"For being patient with me. For this. For . . . everything."

Theo's eyes softened, and he reached out, intertwining your fingers in one. "No worries," he replied, his voice just as soft. "I'm glad I could help."

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edgeray · 3 months ago

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Ray! 🍅 anon here, I said I wasn't going to request but there's one idea I've been really, REALLY itching at.

So you know how you reblogged "cold nights" by beiibeii? Yeah about that... I think I cooked an angst idea of this on a related tangent? (If you choose to write this, ofc)

How about Mother!Reader who is faced with the same scenario of Arle neglecting them to the point that she loses hope in their relationship? Think of the angst when the children constantly remind their Father of important dates but she's away or somehow missing most of them because of work. To the point reader just implies for them to stop trying and accepts the fact that they married Arlecchino but is now simply the Knave's wife? Like even the children can see them losing hope which is why they sometimes lowkey plead with their Father to actually pay more attention to Mother. Mother marrying Father means that Mother is strong but behind their strong facade you can see their sadness! You can feel their loneliness! And their sense of isolation and sorrowful acceptance of their new reality. And Arle does not pick up on the subtle signs until it's Too Late. Like. Reader in the coffin Late.

And as the Knave's wife Reader does need to undertake missions like in "I am Fine in Your Arms" but because reader has lost so much hope in living a wife outside of being the Knave's wife, reader does not make an effort to return alive. The angst of the burial, maybe the children blaming their Father etc. The really young ones aside, I don't think they would be actively angry with their Father, just very, VERY, disappointed. HotH would lose its warmth for a while before Lyney, Lynette and Freminet try their best to build it back (but of course, it never becomes as warm as it used to be)

Whether or not you choose to give this one a happy ending is up to you, but on my end the only happy ending that I cooked up for them is that Arle wakes up in the next Samsara with all these memories of losing Reader and prevents the relationship from going South in the first place. (Bonus points if Reader also has the memories and compares it to how they were treated by Arle previously, makes a comparison, and goes "How I wish this were my Arle" without knowing that it actually IS their Arle, just acknowledging she fucked up BIG time and is now making heavy amends for it. and Arle Knows because of that look that Reader gives her, sorrow and joy in a complex blend.)

...I think by now you can tell that I'm an angst writer too HAHSHHSHA Nobody leaves my fics without getting a knife and I promise it's just for the plot (like we always say).

I've still been keeping up with your writings (Beauty and The Beast actually fits, holy-) (Someone send Siren!Arle a whole farmhouse of ham for her consumption please) and yes I agree that you've been pumping out bangers after bangers. (I mean. Given that, you probably can afford to be a little indulgent? If writing this much quality about your muse doesn't give you the OK to put your hands all over them, abs and all, what does?)

As always, prioritise your sanity and schedule first, stay well rested and hydrated!

Lost Warmth

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Link to my momma's (@beiibeiii) piece right here. If I see you read this before reading the masterpiece I just linked, know that I am a very disappointed axolotl. 😔 Anyways, you might be able to tell just how long this has been sitting in my inbox… haha… my bad guys. T^T. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write more angst. :3 And thank you for the additional comments 🍅 anon. I do have quite a soft spot for siren! arle, seeing that she was my first request (and requested from my momma :3). Wanted this to be a little longer, but I do have to wake up earlier tomorrow, so this is what you get T^T. Hopefully it's still good. Content warnings / info - angst, character death (duh), reader is referred to as ‘Mother’ but is otherwise GN!, 1.4k words

Cold is a feeling you've long gotten used to. Cold is your husband's dismissal of your existence, with every interaction ending with her blunt words and back towards you, leaving you with a crumbling heart. Cold are the long nights as you anxiously wait for Arlecchino's appearance for a candlelit dinner you spent half the day preparing, only for her never to return until you fell to exhaustion on the couch, a flower bouquet that remains unreceived in your hands. Cold is the creeping loneliness in the late hours of the night, when you've finally grown tired of anticipating someone that will never come, and returned to bed alone. Cold is the way you shiver underneath the thickest of blankets, no one's body warmth to sink into, no one's softly whispered words into your ear to drift you to sleep. Cold is when instead of your husband, only dim stars, a bottle of liquor, and the tears that stream your face join you in bed.

When was the last time you had felt warmth?

You recall when the Knave first started courting you, how gentlemanly she was for such a rumored cruel Harbinger. You were first just a caretaker of the House of the Hearth, this small orphanage which you quickly found to be home for you. You couldn't help but adore the endearing children, watching as you slowly became a staple in this family. Despite your best efforts of hiding it, Arlecchino noticed when you snuck in the occasional pastry or cake from the town's most lavious bakery for the children, out of your own paycheck as well. It was then, your husband admitted, when she first fell for you. It had taken her months of encouragement from her ‘pestering’ children before she asked you out, and it was impossible to not fall for her charm.

How could you not? Not when she held you like you were her world. Not when she viewed you higher than the Tsaritsa herself. Not when her touch was heavenly, her words silky and sweet. When she proposed to you, your heart leapt with levity, and you thought your life was perfect now. A warm house, fitted with warm parents, that was what you had had, you had never felt so content.

Then came the long nights. Nights when she trudged home later than usual, where she fell asleep without a word but sunk into your arms still. Then she started forgetting, forgetting about the dates and birthdays, and anniversaries more and more. At first, you chalked it up to her demanding Harbinger duties, but as time grew and the excuses started to run out, the perfect life you knew was crumbling.

You became aware of this two years after your marriage when you had been preparing dinner for the two of you once she arrived home, slow cooking a steak since the early hours of the morning. Just as you exited the kitchen, you heard some children surrounding your husband before she left for another Harbinger meeting, telling her that you had a surprise for her once she came home and how excited you were for her to enjoy a new recipe you created. Your heart swelled with hope and appreciation for your children, especially when Arlecchino promised she would return in time.

You should have known better.

You ate your tear-ridden steak alone and went to bed, leaving the steak out for her for whenever she returned home. Just like how you fell asleep, you woke up without your husband's presence, and when you arrived at the kitchen, the meat and the note besides the plate were untouched.

You tried to eat the cold steak for lunch as well. You threw it away at the first bite. That day, you gathered your children, pleading them not to ‘pester’ Father with more reminders, as she was very busy. All that you gained back from the children was pitied expressions, and the agony in your chest worsened. Your children could pity you, but your husband couldn't? Even with your husband's coldness, you still carried out your Mother role, if only for the children. You cannot deny that the children's antics helped you forget the ever-present void inside you, caused by Arlecchino.

You never learned the reason for Arlecchino's behavior, why she had grown so cold towards you. Now, you suppose, you would never know.

Red fills your hazy vision as you lay on the ground, your entire body aching and fatigued, desperate gasps for air while your heart pounds in your eardrums. Your side was sliced, and the crimson liquid quickly poured out of the wound while you tried to stop the bleeding, but to no avail.

This is your end, you think to yourself as you weakly turn on your side, every nerve in your body protesting against the movement. Your bloodied hand comes into view, your engagement and wedding ring gleaming slightly underneath the blood. The rings bring your thoughts to Arlecchino–oh, how you imagine the common disappointment in her otherwise apathetic expression, disappointment at your mission's failure. Your eyes bubbled and blurred with tears, vivid memories of your wedding flashing through your mind. The wedding ring is beautiful, still polished with that bold scarlet, the same color of her eyes, the same eyes you could never stop drowning in.

Would she even know your absence? Would she ever acknowledge you, treat you properly like her partner even if you did return? You doubt it. Did you want to return a cold bed, to a husband that does not love you, to a house no longer warm?

It's warm.

Your body feels like fire courses through your veins as you feel inexplicably hot, yet it's a welcomed heat. It's the first time you've felt this, but it feels familiar, comforting, like a hearth, and you want nothing more than to surrender to it. It soothes your heartbeat and calms your breath, easing your body as if you were to sink into the most plush of beds, swallowed by the thickest of blankets. The warmth coils around you, wrapping you like a cozy embrace, evoking you to sleep. Your eyes flutter shutter, a faint smile plastered on your lips.

It feels just like Peruere's arms.

—

Arlecchino receives a letter addressed to her on the third day you've been sent on a mission. The contents make her drop the paper, and she rushes outside, without an additional word, leaving the House.

The children do not see her until she returns late into the night, a body wrapped in cloth in her arms. Arlecchino raised her children to be smart, to be attentive, to be logical. Whose body it is, they realize with little difficulty.

The children weep that night. Arlecchino does not. How can she, when her source of emotions is gone?

The burial takes place soon afterwards. As your body is placed into the ground, Arlecchino can feel the weight of her children's stare on her back. The charged tension between her and the children is palpable without words. She cannot discern which of the two reactions cut deeper. The seething fury underneath the oppressive grief for the young ones, having to lose another parent, or the crushing dismay inhabited by the older ones, specifically the twins and Freminet.

Their thoughts are clear, even when none of them speak out loud.

How could you fail Mother?

The House of the Hearth no longer suits the orphanage's name, not with your missing presence. There is no warmth, no matter how much the trio tries to fuel a lost flame. Even with Arlecchin's pyro vision, it is futile.

Arlecchino stands before your gravestone, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in her hand, and she rests it beside the other bouquets by your grave. Six bouquets in total, for each day after your burial.

“For all the flowers, I should have given you, my love,” she whispers as she addresses you, glancing up to the heavens. The last two words make her feel like a fraud, undeserving of calling you hers, when she had clearly never shown so.

Arlecchino, the Knave, the Fatui Harbinger, does not plead, does not beg, does not kneel. However, her knees drop to her dirt, and she grovels. “Please… wait for me one more time, my dear. Once I meet you again, I promise I'll never leave you alone, I'll never let you out of my arms again.”

There is no reply.

Arlecchino feels cold.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fanfics #genshin impact fics #genshin fanfics #genshin fics #edgeray.writes #edgeray.requests #edgeray.🍅anon

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man-down-in-hatchet-town · 1 year ago

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VHSCC OH MY GOD

(no spoilers)

Starkid nation, you aren't ready.

So let's start with the obvious. Look, I spent thirteen years growing up with Starkid. That initial Michigan gang are deeply special to me and I will always miss Dylan, Brian R., and Corey in any show they aren't in. And this one's no different. But just as Janaya came in and took over Belle from Britney so flawlessly, Curt, Brian, and AJ were all WONDERFUL in their new roles. The gentle-but-high-energy, truly decent, romantic himbo charm Curt brought to our Springsteen boy Jim (you all are going to LOVE Jim, I promise) perfectly offset the defiant, sneering anger of Young Scrooge in "That Scrooge." Brian's reactions (particularly to the "rather take my own life" line) were so funny and some of my favorite parts of the show. And AJ... this is now my favorite thing AJ has ever done. And that's saying something. The smaller casting shake-up moments (Joey as Fezziwig, other little line re-distributions) were so fun as well!

The new act 1 is PERFECTION. I was actually surprised by how absolutely hysterical it was? Like, I won't tell you what was up with that clip on Instagram of Brian, Lauren, and Joey doing a freak-out dance, but I can tell you that their whole Act 1 deal threatened to steal the show every. Single. Time. I already mentioned Curt as Jim, but you will also love Della, who is so funny and real and truly carries us through the start of the show (Janaya is a STAR and she Curt have brilliant chemistry). Ali did a terrific job of balancing the sadness and hope that are both at the center of the devastating little Match Girl. And Jamie's Grandma... well, honestly I have no idea how to talk about Jamie's song without giving stuff away.

But the real star of the show in Act 1, as he should be, was our man Clark. I can't emphasize enough how much he nailed the writing of this whole new act. I mentioned that the new stuff is hilarious, but it's also deeply heartfelt, and also sad exactly when it needs to be. Like, the transition after Jamie's song? I can't really talk about it yet, but what that moment does with emotion is unreal. And, as expected, every song is a banger! My one complaint about this show, and it IS a big one, is that there is no cast recording of the Act 1 songs. I want to listen to them all the time.

But the good news is, I CAN listen to Christmas Carol as much as I want! The classic that started it all is back, with so many people reprising the hell out of their truly iconic roles (God I love the VHS Cratchits), and better than ever. I traditionally hate change, and I love the version of VHSCC Live! we already have so much, but I think I somehow loved this version even more? The staging is alive and clever and there are some additions and changes, particularly in "Final Ghost"/"Christmas Day," that frankly blew my mind and somehow managed to elevate the material even further. I can't wait for the digital ticket to come out so that I can talk about them. To put it simply, James Tolbert mastered his Starkid directorial debut like you won't believe. I'm so proud of him and grateful for the larger role he's taken in Starkid since they moved base to LA.

Also, the Ghost of Christmas Past is extra unhinged this year? Jaime pulled out all of the impish stops and it was the BEST.

Basically, everyone more than delivered. I haven't talked about Meredith yet but she rocked it in the band and continued to validate the hell out of my opinion that "3 Spirits" is the dark horse best song in the show.

And a special shout-out to June Saito for continuing to be a costuming GENIUS. I always love her work and this production is no exception. I honestly wanted to give the return of the Bob Cratchit costume its own round of applause.

You know, the world is a mess and everything is pretty much terrible. It's been a hard year in an impossible decade. But every once in a while you come across some art that takes all of that, acknowledges the truth of it, and somehow pulls back the curtains to harness the joy and hope that's still there under the rubble. To me, Starkid in particular has always been about finding and holding onto the hope and the beauty and humanity that allows us to endure an existence that can so often feel bleak. And VHSCC is maybe the most perfect encapsulation of that idea.

So thank you Clark, James, Meredith, Brian, and everyone who worked so hard on this little bit of magic. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Let's make a little light.

#apologies for any typos it is late and I've had a wild day #Also shout out to Meredith for the number of times she teared up while playing in the band #she is so real for that #starkid #team starkid #vhscc #vhs christmas carols #clark baxtresser #james tolbert #AJ Holmes #Meredith Stepien #Brian Holden #Janaya Mahealani Jones #Jamie Burns #Lauren Lopez #Ali Gordon #Curt Mega #Joey Richter #Jaime Lyn Beatty

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didhewinkback · 1 year ago

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the moment you knew

a something old blurb, exploring the moments they both knew they were in love with each other. it switches pov halfway through

word count: 5k, warnings: its not the proposal

---

2009

When you were fifteen, Johnny’s parents were going to be out of town for a whole weekend and he was planning on throwing the banger of the year. It was all anyone in your year could talk about for the whole week. Everyone was planning on going. Everyone, that is until your parents told you they had plans that night and you had to babysit Archie. You screamed, you cried, you got sent to your room but they wouldn’t budge, not caring at all about the fact that they were absolutely ruining your life.

You sat on the couch that Saturday, playing round after round of Mario Kart and bemoaning the state of things when there was a knock on your door. You told Archie to pause the game while you got up to answer it, expecting it to be the pizza he begged you to order, grumbling and stomping your feet the whole way. You swung the door open, cash in hand, only to find Harry on the other side, holding a few DVDs and a spare gamecube controller.

“Room for one more?” he asked, smile growing on his face when he sees the shocked expression on yours.

“What - what are you doing here?”

“Came to hang out with my best mate Archie. Guess you’re alright too.” he says, pushing past you to get into the house, heading straight for your kitchen.

“Harry!!!!!” Archie shrieks, running from the couch to the kitchen and hugging him tight, Harry laughing as he hugs him back. “I’m soooo happy you’re here, she was being sooo soo boring.”

“I dunno, man.” he says, smiling over at where you’re frozen in your spot, in shock that he’s here, crashing you and your brother’s pajama party instead of being at the actual party a few blocks over. He winks at you and your cheeks immediately burst into flames and you have to look away. That’s new. “I think your sister’s pretty cool.”

“Not tonight. She’s in a mood.” Archie says adamantly with a firm shake of his head, which makes Harry laugh, hard. His head tilting back, eyes crinkling. You can’t take your eyes off him. Has he always been this cute?

“Hey mate, ‘m gonna get some snacks ready in here, but I brought my controller, why don’t you get us all set for the next round? You’re the only one I’d trust with this,” he says, deadly serious, handing Archie the controller, which he holds to his chest with utter reverence, nodding before sprinting back to the tv room. Harry watches him go with a smile, before turning back to rifle through your fridge.

“Think your dad will notice if we nick two of his beers?”

“Why are you here?” you blurt out, mind still whirring from seeing him on your doorstep.

“Ouch.” he says, raising his eyebrows at the blunt question.

“I don’t mean - I just mean - “ you say, shaking your head, unable to think of anything else but the fact that he’s here. Not at the party he’s supposed to be at, the party of the century, but here. In your house. To play Mario Kart with you and your little brother.

“Johnny’s party is tonight. Everyone’s going to it. Like Katie’s gonna be there -”

“Yeah, well, you couldn’t go. Wouldn’t have been any fun without you. ” he says simply with a shrug, not waiting for your answer as he grabs two cans of beer, letting the fridge door swing shut behind him as he turns towards you. “Rather be here. With you.”

Oh.

And it’s like the world tilted off its axis. Time stops as you stand there, absolutely frozen in place, staring back at him as he grabs a bag of crisps off your counter, experiencing a feeling you’ve never felt before, a feeling that in years to come would only grow stronger, a feeling you would associate with him and only him. All these little moments from the past year suddenly make more sense, like missing pieces of a puzzle clicking into place.

The way his hand holding yours at his birthday party made sparks shoot up your spine, the way your heart races when you catch a whiff of that new Axe spray he’s been using, the way your cheeks flush when he holds eye contact with you, something that never happened before this year. It’s like your chest has been cracked open, warmth flooding your veins, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Your heart is racing and you feel like you’re on fire.

You love him. You’re in love with him.

Oh god.

“You coming?” he asks, starting to head towards the tv room, beers and snacks in hand, pausing when he looks back at you, brows furrowing. “What’s that look on your face for?”

“What?! Nothing - nothing.” you say quickly, warmth flooding your cheeks. “I’m fine. I’m gonna grab some pretzels or something.”

“I already grabbed the pretzels.”

“Right. You did. I’m uh. I’m going to wait here. For the pizza. Should be here aaaaany minute.” you say, brain scrambling for any sort of excuse, needing a minute to stand here alone and think.

“Oookay. You’re being really weird.” he says, heading into the living room, leaving you standing alone in the kitchen, the flush on your cheeks only getting warmer by the second. You can hear him and Archie talk in the tv room, his animated tone making your heart beat even faster, thinking about how good he was with your little brother, how good he was with everyone, how good he was.

You bury your head in your hands, trying to catch your breath, to slow your racing thoughts.

You were in love with your best mate.

What the fuck were you going to do?!

2019

It was his mum’s birthday and Harry was prepared for anything.

Rain? He had ordered three types of tents, all to block out a potential storm but not detract the view from the garden that his mum cherished so much. Sound system glitches? He had five different kinds of bluetooth speakers and six auxiliary cords to be sure there would be no interference with the Shania Twain playlist he curated himself. Uncle Mack has one too many and starts asking Gemma how it feels that her younger brother will be getting married before her? He had Johnny prepped to keep an eye on his drinking and distract him with Man City stats if needed.

It had been ages since he had been able to be home for the celebration and he was determined to make it perfect. He loved his mum more than anything and even though he had a team of people willing (and paid) to assist him at the drop of a hat, he was set on doing most things himself, a point he knew his mother would take pride in. He had invited all her favorite relatives and closest friends, ordered a massive catered menu inclusive of all food allergies and even decorated her favorite cake, strawberry cream, himself. He had first aid kits, a stocked bar, endless supplies of SPF. He was prepared for absolutely anything.

Anything, that was, except for you.

He was having a drink with his cousins, reminiscing about the family parties of the past when he looked up and there you were.

Christ.

He’d never seen you in that dress before. He felt like his eyes were bugging out of his head as they traced the way it held your body so perfectly, like it had been custom made for you. He was practically ogling you, something he had never done before, at least not consciously. You’d always been pretty but today, right here, right now, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It felt like the earth shifted under his feet. Like the world tilted off its axis. His pulse was racing, his brow starting to sweat.

He was making his way over to you before even making the conscious choice to do so. It’s been ages since he’s seen you or even talked to you, his calls and messages going unanswered for weeks now, ever since his album listening party in August, which yeah, he fucked that one up. Should’ve talked to you first, should’ve done something different to not ruin the tradition you’ve had together since you were 17, the way you’ve been ignoring him making him realize it always meant as much to you as it did to him.

He can’t seem to get anything right these days, keeps doing what is expected of him, what looks best, ignoring what he wants and hurting people in the process. His brain has been so muddled these past few months that at this point he doesn’t even know what he wants. He feels like he doesn’t know anything. Especially here and now, feeling like he’s burning up on the inside just from looking at you.

He knows he should give you space, let you come to him so he can take the time to pull you aside and right any wrongs but he can’t stop himself, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. He was by your side in seconds, breath catching in his throat when you turned away from your conversation with Gemma to face him, small smile on your face.

“Y’ look - that dress is nice. Um. Y’ look - y’look really nice.” He’s stuttering over his words, barely able to string a single sentence together, feeling hot under his collar, Gemma’s scrutinous gaze not helping in the least.

He hasn’t felt this way around you since he was 13 and tried to hold your hand on a walk to the heath one day, only for his sweaty fingers to get caught in one of your bracelets. He had turned practically scarlet in embarrassment, pretended there was a bee he was trying to shoo away, refusing to admit the truth, that he had a massive crush on you and all he wanted to do was hold your hand.

“I’m going to get a drink.” Gemma says, eyes darting between the two of you. “Either of you want anything?”

You both shake your heads, thanking her with smiles and he can feel her eyes linger on him for a second, the way he keeps shifting his weight, fiddling with his rings, his sister picking up on his nerves better than anyone before she squeezes his shoulder and heads over to the drinks. He watches her walk away and then turns back to face you, where you’re staring down at your hands, not able to make eye contact for more than a few seconds.

“‘M really glad -” he starts to say, at the same time you say “Is your mum - ?” before you both cut yourselves off, sheepishly laughing.

“You go,” he says softly, desperate for you to talk to him about anything, biting on his tongue as he wills his mouth to stop moving, feeling petrified that if he opened his mouth right now all that would come out would be something along the lines of “I know ‘m engaged and you’re my best mate but you look dead fit.”

“Was just gonna ask if your mum was having a nice time.”

He deflates a bit, was hoping for more about you or what you’ve been up to, anything to get a good read on you but you’re talking to him so he’ll take what he can get.

“Yeah, think she’s cried about three times already. So far, so good.” he says, resisting the urge to duck his head to force you to make eye contact with him.

“You done good, H.”

“Thanks,” he says and you smile at him quickly before looking back at your hands, silence falling between you once more.

He hates this. He’s not sure what’s going on or what he did, knows it's more than just that party, the two of you have been out of sync for months now and clearly you’re trying to avoid talking about it but he has to try something. He’s got a feeling there’s things you aren’t telling him, but he also knows there’s been certain things he’s been avoiding talking about, the nerves gnawing away at him about his upcoming nuptials, how he’s not sure what he’s feeling is just a case of cold feet or something more, something that terrifies him when he thinks about it too much. So, he doesn't. He just looks back at you, feeling more lost than ever before.

A strand of hair falls in front of your face and he has to clench his hand to hold himself back from tucking it behind your ear, suddenly feeling desperate to touch, to drag his knuckle down your cheek and along your collarbone, wondering if the sensation would make your breath catch, fire simmering in his belly at the thought of being the cause.

What the fuck?

He shakes his head, trying to drive those thoughts out of it, not sure where they’re coming from, thoughts he’s never had about you until now, at least not that he’s aware of. His cheeks burst into flames, looking back at you to be sure you can’t tell what he’s thinking, but you’re barely looking at him and he can’t - this can’t be how today goes. He needs his best mate, needs to have a fun day celebrating his mum, needs to forget the weirdness and stress of this year, if only for a few hours.

“Hey, so I know we’ve both been busy and I haven’t heard from you in a while,” he says, speaking quickly when he catches your look of apprehension, “which is fine, ‘ve done that with you loads of times it’s nothing - I didn’t mean to bring that up. Not like that. I just -”

He pauses, takes a deep breath, tries to rearrange his scrambled brain.

“We’re both here and you look great and I’d just - I’d really like it if we could just forget everything else and just hang out like old times. Just have fun. Me and you. And Johnny. ‘M flying solo today -” he says, catching the way you visibly relax and oh.

Is that it? Do you not like Erin? You’ve always seemed to get along with her just fine and they’ve been dating for years and you’ve never said anything. If that’s it, why haven’t you said anything? Your friendship has been rocky since the engagement but he never thought - if you’d had a problem you’d have said something, right? But you’ve both been avoiding any talk of relationships in recent years, cagey about the subject with each other ever since that fight you got into the pub a few years ago. Maybe that’s been a mistake.

He wants to get into it now, demand answers from you, but knows that would negate everything he just said, and knows that keeping everything light is the only reason you’re still looking at him now.

“It’s been a really weird year and right now I just want to hang out with my best mates, celebrate my mum before my work schedule gets mental. Let’s just fuck around today, yeah? See how many beers we can sneak Archie?” he says, something loosening in his chest when you huff a small laugh.

“Yeah,” you say, smile growing on your face. “That sounds good to me.”

“Cool. Let’s grab a drink then?” he says, turning to walk towards the bar.

“Wait,” you say, reaching out to grab his hand, quickly letting go when he spins back to you, his hand tingling with the ghost of your touch, itching to grab hold once more. “I just - I’m sorry for not being around, um -”

“Hey, no, ‘s fine. Got nothing to apologize for. Y’ just -”, he pauses, placing his hand on your shoulder and squeezing once, eyes never leaving yours. “Y’ know you can talk to me about anything, yeah? Your friendship means everything to me. You’re my best mate. That’s never changing.”

“Right,” you say and there’s a flash of something in your eyes he can’t quite decipher, gone just as soon as it appeared.

“‘M gonna hug you now.”

“Please don’t -”

“It’s happening whether you like it or not,” he says, wrapping his arms around you, feeling relieved when you do the same, relaxing into his hold. He’s holding you tighter than necessary but so are you, both of you seemingly needing to be close after this year of miscommunication and distance. He could stand here all night holding you, he thinks, feeling the most at ease he has in ages. You pull away first, quickly rubbing at your eyes but before he can say anything you’re already starting to move away.

“To the bar, yeah? Pretty sure Archie’s got a new girlfriend he won’t talk about. A few pints oughta loosen him up,” you say, already heading over there.

And he knows alcohol will only make more of a mess in his already muddled brain, the way he’s fighting the urge to watch you walk away, a swirl of confusing emotions flowing through him, but he needs this time with you. To have fun, let go. To forget. Scared of what will happen if he ruminates too much. So he doesn’t.

Six Months Later

He presses his palms to his eyes until the memory disappears and all he sees is black, practically curling in on himself as the April air whips around him, the estate lights blinking in the distance, the last of the partygoers still going at it. Was that the moment? Should he have been paying more attention?

You said you loved him for most of your life - had he been that selfish, that wrapped up in his own bullshit to not notice? He wracks his brain for signs of something he missed, rifling through memories to try to look at them from this new lens. Tries to think of the biggest moments of friction in your friendship, they are far and few between but …oh. There was that holiday break that haunted him for years when you wouldn’t talk to him when he brought home… - you said you felt sick but was it because he brought a girlfriend home? Were you jealous? Or heartbroken?

He continues on his walk, shaking his head at himself, at this night, at what this weekend has come to. He’s felt off kilter all year, feeling like he’s performing to an adoring crowd, his performance instincts trickling into his real, personal life, making him feel like a shell of himself. He knew something felt wrong the second he got down on one knee in front of all of Erin’s friends and family but brushed it off as nerves because she looked so happy so surely he must be too?

But he’s been lying to himself, too scared of disappointing those around him to grapple with the truth, trying to convince himself that this was part of growing up and becoming a man, that real love, the marriage love, isn’t the all consuming, unquenchable, need them like you need air kind of love. That a mature love is one that just feels fine most of the time, something expected, simple, fine. He keeps telling himself that being so public with his love life is what happens when you enter new tiers of fame with a famous partner, that everything is happening as it should, regardless of how he feels about it. Resigning himself to this new reality without taking a moment to challenge it or question it or demand better for himself.

Not questioning how weird it is that his engagement, supposed to be one of the biggest moments of his life, happened without his best mate ever knowing. That the thought of telling you filled him with so much dread that he avoided it entirely, just sent you an invite to the engagement party like a coward. How you had politely offered congratulations then avoided him for the rest of the night, which turned into the rest of the year, blaming work schedules and busy social calendars, leaving him feeling more unmoored than ever before. Never questioning the reason why that was, not realizing you’ve been his anchor for so long.

You.

You’re the first phone call he would make when he couldn’t sleep late at night, on a bus somewhere in another American city, feeling so young and old at the same time, worn down from years on the road while feeling all the confusing emotions of being a teenager, needing to hear your voice to calm his racing mind. The first face he would seek out in any crowd, especially that first solo night at MSG, feeling like he was teetering on the edge, getting swept up into something so much bigger than himself, and then locking eyes with you, the two of you looking at each other as if to say “can you fucking believe this?”. The first person to call him out when he started getting too used to this new world around him, a bit high off his own supply, leaning into the parties and the girls and the paps screaming his name, the free drinks and clothes and gifts, starting to expect things to be done for him instead of asking first until you shrewdly looked at him from across the table one day at lunch in 2014 and said, “you’re turning into a bit of a wanker”, which shut that down right quick.

The first person he would fly over when he felt lonely on tour, living for the way your face would light up when you could see the view from the stage, the way you lived for all the tourist attractions, your post show fro-yo bike rides turning into late nights at whatever bars were close by turning into private parties at the best restaurants each city had to offer as his career expanded and took shape. The first person he would see when he landed back home and over the years crashing at your house for days on end became crashing at your dorm became crashing at your flat in the big city, with you showing him your new favorite spots in London, telling him he can’t call himself a true Londoner until he lives here for more than six months at a time. Some of his favorite memories over the last few years have been exploring the city with you, you playing tour guide for once, taking him to off the beaten path museums and coffee shops, indie theatres and underground dance clubs, determined to make your home city feel like his, a feat that became impossible when he got engaged to an American.

He thinks back to his mum’s party, how visions of you in that dress lingered in his mind for weeks on end, how when he began to promote the new album, it was sometimes your face he saw when he closed his eyes and sang, something that only happened when he was trying to write songs with White Eskimo when he was 13, desperately trying to rhyme “hairband” with “want to be your man”. How he’s tried to sit down in the studio the past month to work out his thoughts through song, only confusing himself more when the only lyrics that would pour out of him were about you. You, who he’s barely spoken to these last few months.

He’s spent the last year trying to convince himself that the distance between you is due to growing up and schedule changes, that it is always difficult for the best mate who’s a girl to get along with the fiance. He knows how horribly reductive and stereotypical that is but you weren’t giving him anything to work with and he was too determined to not rock the boat to ever ask, never once thinking you were keeping your space because his engagement broke your heart. Because you’re in love with him.

You’re in love with him.

He wants to be angry with you, angry that you could keep this from him for so long, never saying anything for years, that you waited until now to do anything about it but instead he only feels anger at himself. That he missed the signs, that he didn’t try to talk to you more over these last few months, that he let you think the only solution was to leave. That he spent years convincing himself that when he gave any of your boyfriends a hard time it was just him being protective, that those pangs of jealousy he felt whenever some random bloke made you smile was par for the course of your friendship, that it was totally completely normal for his blood to boil whenever one of his mates from LA asked for your number, a request he always ignored. How could he be so bloody stupid?

He clenches his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose with a shaky hand. This weekend has felt like someone placed a ton of bricks on his chest, the pressure slowly building and burning every hour that passed by. He couldn’t catch his breath all night until he finally found you on that courtyard, heart fluttering at how pretty you looked until he took in your expression, your packed bags, the way you were clutching onto your mum.

He winces when he remembers how broken you looked, tear tracks down your face despite your best efforts to wipe them away. He had been desperate to do whatever he could to make you stop looking like that, whatever he could to help. Never once thinking…

He stops walking, staring up at the night sky as he blinks back tears, tries to slow his racing heart, his racing mind. Every thought that has flown through his head over the last few hours, every memory that he has picked apart, overanalyzed, it's all come back to you. You, one of the only constants through his ever changing career and ever growing life. You, his best mate and his favorite person on the planet. You, who stood in that courtyard looking like the most beautiful woman he has ever seen and told him you’re in love with him, that you’ve loved him for most of your life and he’s not sure anything could get any better than that.

The fog in his head clears as he blinks up at the sky, feeling more settled in his body than he has all year, feeling like he finally truly knows what he wants.

It’s you.

It’s always been you.

Nothing has ever made more sense to him. He’s been in love before, has had it reciprocated but nothing - none of that, none of them - ever felt like this. He didn’t know anything could feel like this. It’s like his chest has cracked open, the world tilting on its axis, a missing puzzle piece finally fitting in place.

All the confusion, all the agony, all the questions have suddenly faded away. There’s a reason it always felt like something was missing from his relationship, from what was supposed to be his great love. There’s a reason few things have felt worse than having to watch you kiss Conor Williams at that birthday party. There’s a reason he never feels more settled, more at home, more himself than he does when he’s with you. He started loving you when he was 13 and a part of him never stopped. He’s never been able to give himself over fully to anyone else because a part of him has always belonged to you. And now he wants you to have all of him.

He’s in love with you. And you’re in love with him. The greatest woman he’s ever known, his favorite brain, the heart he’s always felt most protective over has been steadily beating for him all this time. He can’t stop the tears now as they streak down his face. Feeling the most confusing combination of elation, clarity and dread. Because he knows now what he has to do and it’s going to be ugly. It’s going to be the worst thing he’s ever done to another person.

Because he can’t get married tomorrow. Not to someone who isn't you. And he wants to like, date you first before he -. He shakes his head at himself, running his shaky hands through his hair, huffing a laugh of disbelief at how he’s already getting ahead of himself, how he already feels like he can breathe properly again, how nothing has ever been more clear.

He’s going to go face this now, before any more damage can be done. He’s going to talk to his mum and Gemma, then he’s going to talk to Erin.

And then he’s going to go get you.

a/n: if you've been with this story and me for a while first of all ily second of all, you know how much i looove to explore their past before writing a big moment for their future and this was so fun to think about and work through. i had written the whole first half and his 2019 bit in like march so i loved getting to come back to it! thought everyone would like to see where he was at post confession. let me know what you think ! also the collage is just of his parts, i didnt want to put a pic of 2009 harry up. outside pics are the party, middle pic is rehearsal dinner fit.

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

#something old #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #i didnt edit this much #please let me know what u think love u mean it

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nyxthejinx · 2 years ago

Note

Heya!

I just saw your open for request post and want to commission an Cyno x gn!reader, please? :) a fluffy and spicy drabble would be lovely. Maybe smth like.. the reader is good friends with Cyno and Tighnari but the reader went on a journey thru teyvat and met the Aether (traveler) on their way and since then they traveled together and been thru much so they have a connection ofc and then when the reader and Aether visit sumeru and they meet Cyno - he will get all jealous? Cause he sees how close they are and he fears that he missed his chance with the reader? But obvsly its not like that and yeah. A lil bit of making out at the end, please? cause Cyno needs to let out some steam after his jealously :^)

Thank you for doing requests btw!

FIRST. It took ages but I was able to sell my soul in exchange for inspiration only recently, I'm so sorry. SECOND thank YOU for asking, I wasn't sure about this until the 3am among us potion made it work. THIRD beautiful pfp, akaza bb fr i love him a normal amount I promise. FOURTH it's 5 am, literally I'm not kidding, I tried to proofread and all that but I don't even know what's my name anymore so I'm sorry for typos and shit. FIFTH I hope It makes sense, enjoy 💀

𝐓𝐖: Fluff and obviously spice (making out, vague allusions to the dirty deeds ;) ), use of petnames (dear, love), lemme know if I missed something.

𝐅𝐭.: Cyno, Aether (but he's your homie) - GN!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨: Rendezvous - Little Mix (god this song is such a banger)

Cyno fears nothing.

"Cyno, this is Aether."

Cyno fears one thing.

He'd felt so happy after reading your last letter. You said you'd be back in a few days with a special surprise, but honest to Archons the fact you'd be coming back to him - for him, he’d wanted to say, but not dared to- was enough of a present.

He surely wasn't expecting that this "surprise" would be none other than the Traveler who's saved Sumeru, though. A charming blondie who drifts a bit too close to you, in Cyno's opinion.

"We met in Liyue, he's amazing." You smile, squeezing the blond's shoulder. "He's a well known traveler across Teyvat, even in regions he has yet to visit!"

"I just help those who need it, not that much of a big deal."

Aether blushes and rubs his neck. Aether blushes. And you're touching him in a way that only close friends do.

It's fine, Cyno wants to think. You're allowed to do whatever you want in your life, he sure as hell won't stand in your way. He already stepped aside back in the days, as you excitedly told him how one of his worst fears came true you were leaving for adventure.

Everything to make you happy.

But his mixed feelings would always get in the way and unleash endless internal conflicts. It wasn't simply about not having you around, it was some kind of longing sitting inside his chest and screaming at you not to go.

It was the distance that made him realise: he was, and still is, far too in love for his own good.

And Aether could get in the way of that.

"We meet again, Traveller." The General nods, pushing down such shameful thoughts. "I'm glad to see you are both fairing well."

"It's all thanks to [Name], actually." Aether nudges you in the ribs. "They're really helpful, no matter the task."

You smirk. "Oh, what an honour. The traveller complementing me, a common, mortal nobody."

"Hey, I'm not that annoying!"

"Maybe. But you sure snore at night. That is annoying."

"Wh-! I don't. I know for a fact-"

No, you don't sound like close friends. You sound like a married couple. What just happened in this handful of months? Did Cyno hesitate too long and lost his chance? Now that he had decided to expose his deepest feelings?

"You guys! Paimon is starving here."

Paimon's shrill voice cuts short the bicker, as the Matra's jaw clenches. Good time, credits to Paimon, but seeing the two of you stroll towards the tavern didn't ease the knot in his chest the slightest.

Your laughter wasn't addressed to him nor to his uncanny jokes. He wasn't the one making you smile.

He was the moon and he'd just been eclipsed by the Traveller's brightest light.

Dinner was... Gut wrenching, to say the least.

You'd known Cyno long enough to tell apart his feelings even as he wears that stoic facade of his. While Paimon and the Traveller didn't have a single clue about the situation, you could feel his dry gaze burning holes on both of your figures, as if the sun had ascended back to the skies and everything around had turned desert.

He was feeling something you'd never quite seen within him.

It took you a bit too long to realise that the fair, lawful General Mahamatra was jealous, of all things.

He was so subtle with it, carefully hid his resentment in his voice and choice of words, in his gestures and mannerisms. But worst of all he didn't propose a single joke during the meal, not even when you laid the chance on a silver platter for him.

That had your mind reeling for the rest of your time together, and even afterwards, as you waved goodnight to Aether and Paimon. As you walked these streets you still know by heart with your dearest friend by your side.

As you choked on the thick air surrounding the two of you.

Maybe you should've left Aether out of it, for the first day, at least. Cyno hadn't seen you in so long, perhaps he didn't like the way Aether inadvertently hogged your attention the entire time when all he wanted was to hear about your adventures.

Yeah, you'd been an idiot for that one.

But, you still had an ace up your sleeve. Quite literally. One that would grant you his forgiveness and hopefully help you say the words to him.

Because of course, it took you less than a week far from him to realise you were smitten for this dad-jokes-spitting being.

You patted your side as you approached Razan Garden in all its glory, and sighed at the feeling of the rectangular box still inside. You could do it, you had to! It took you months of preparation, you wouldn't let it go to waste.

"[Name]." Cyno's voice was soft, as if to match the atmosphere lingering in the marble gazebo. He'd stopped a couple steps ahead of you, but didn't turn to meet your eyes. "My congratulations and best wishes."

You alt abruptly at that. Where the hell is it coming from?

"Uh, thank you?" You quirk a brow. "Did I do something special without knowing?"

He chuckles under his breath. Yes, you are special and he's grateful a being so perfect can exist in this world and is part of his life. But he would never tell you that.

He turns instead. His eyes rich with emotion, gentler. "I'm beyond glad that you found the right person out there, [Name]."

Oh. Oh.

"I only ever hoped for your happiness and well-being, during this period of time."

"Cyno, wait a sec-"

He takes a step forward. "If I had to voice my honest thoughts... I must admit I couldn't find peace of mind knowing you would've been out there alone."

"Cyno-"

"But I see you're perfectly capable of handling your own," the man sighs, shakes his head. A small smile curves his lips. "Just like you've always done."

"Oi-"

And then he's placing loose hands on your shoulders, as if he's in some kind of automatic mode and has to finish the speech at all costs.

For a moment you think he's gone absolutely senile. "Still, I'm relieved you have someone who can watch your back, now. He's a kind-hearted person, level headed, the best you could wish for-"

"Archons' fucking sake, Cyno! Will you hear me out a damn second?"

Cyno almost jumps back, taken out of his weird reverie, but you're quick to trap his face between your hands. You're close, closer than you'd wanted to, unfocused in your frustrated fervor. So much his breath warms the apple of your cheek, as it wasn't burning already.

You take a breath and force more words out before you can cower away from it. "I get where you're coming from, I neglected you today and acted like a shitty friend. And I'm sorry for that."

You lower your gaze to the ground. Now or never. "But it's you, okay? It's always been you! I could travel across all Teyvat and even Celestia, but it's you and just you. So drop that thing you're on about please."

That was disgustingly corny. But hopefully did the trick, you guess.

A beat passes. Then two. You don't see his face, you don't have the courage to take a look at the mess you've made. Him being jealous didn't mean he liked you, not necessarily. Maybe you should've given him the TCG deck and call it a night.

Another beat goes by.

"So... You and Aether are not...?"

He's gonna be the death of you.

You groan, a guttural sound that shouts exasperation from the deepest parts of your chest. All rationality goes to hell as you drag him closer and slam your lips together.

You're kissing him. Archons you're kissing him-

There's no time for Cyno to react. You're pulling away in a frenzy, hoping the ground will open for the Abyss to swallow you right now. You kissed one of your friends only to prove that you're single, and in fact attracted to them. Could it be worse than that? More humiliating and disrespectful to him?

"I'm so sorry!" You wave your hands around. "I shouldn't have without your permission! Are you okay?"

You search his expression for any sign of discomfort; he looks absolutely flabbergasted, but somehow weirdly composed like a bronze statue. His lips -god you'd just kissed them- are parted in the slightest, his eyes wide and yet still. The calm before the storm.

He's showing yet another sentiment you've never really seen him wear.

"Again." Cyno says.

You blink. "Uh?"

You feel his hand slither behind you and circle your waist, as he pushes your body closer. His skin is running hot like the desert's sands and you curse at his choice, or better lack of clothes.

His silver hair falls like a curtain, his eyes sharp. Dangerous, even, if you're not careful enough.

"Please, do it again. I think I've just seen the gates of Celestia." He mutters close to your lips.

That sounds more like him. You can't help but snort at his choice of words, shuddering all the same. The implications of said words dig a flaming hole in your chest.

"How can you be so smart, but dum dum at the same time?" You whisper, one hand traveling to the back of his neck, the other busying itself with stray locks of hair.

And you dip in for another kiss. One you sigh into, one that can be called kiss, actually. It's slower, but full all the same, scorching hot, pushed by feelings that were repressed for too long.

Cyno locks his free hand at your nape, never possessive, although firm. Small sounds bubble in the back of his throat when you bite at his lower lip, then backs just enough to mutter a couple words.

"Can you really blame me? It feels like a dream coming true." He pecks your lips, then presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. "I was scared you'd chosen him."

"So, all those pretty words from before?" You exhale a breathy laugh, cradling his jaw.

"I'd give away everything I have and am if it meant you'd be happy. I could only wish you the best and support you." Cyno smiles, pouting after the next words leave his mouth. "But it doesn't mean I would be fully content with the outcome."

Your brain has turned to mush. This man is too dangerous for this world, a hazard for you and your poor little heart that feels like exploding. It's a threat to your common sense and rationality. But most of all, it's damaging your brakes.

What he's telling you should not be legal.

"Archons, come here." And you kiss, and kiss, kiss again and again. You map each other's bodies with your hands as if it was the last time you'd be seeing each other. You press your mouths, clatter your teeth, intertwine your tongues.

You're straight up devouring in the dead silence of the night, in a public space. But as indecent the sounds you're both making are, it feels as if the world around blurred and blended into nothingness.

You've found yourself with your back to a wall, somehow, a couple buttons loose, skin hit by the cold air of the night. You -surely more clothed than Cyno- are an absolute mess, whereas his appearance doesn't falter much even at your hands' mercy.

It's unfair, he's unfair. He has no right to be this damn perfect even in the face of chaos.

"Not here, Cy." You manage to utter. "Let's go home."

His hand stops halfway up your shirt and he detaches from your neck with a small grunt, red splotches forming already thanks to his work. He doesn't sound pleased with your choice, but wordlessly complies, knocking you off your feet and picking you up so easily it's unfair.

And embarrassing.

You deadpan. "Seriously?"

He finds your eyes, suddenly composed as if nothing happened. "You seemed quite unstable on your legs, dear."

You're audibly gasping at that, whacking his chest and glaring daggers. "You!"

"Let's continue it home, now."

Cyno is really going to be the death of you, in many ways you'd never even considered.

It's almost dawn when you finally let yourselves snuggle up to each other in the peace of your home. More like his home, since yours needs more than a bit of cleaning after months of disuse, but he's made it clear already: everything that's his is also yours.

Cyno traces patterns on the bare skin of your arm, as you card through the knots on the back of his head, formed after... Recent activity. He seems too lost in your touch to even be awake, when his fingers stop.

"What was the surprise, in the end? Was it the confession?"

Your hands still, your face tightening at the question. When did you even... Oh, right.

"Would you be satisfied if I said yes?"

He pinches you.

"Owie!"

"You should know that what has been of this night matters more than anything, to me. Of course I would be satisfied." Cyno raises a thin brow, as his hand starts to descend agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. "Was I not clear enough about my feelings? Perhaps you need a reminder-"

"Whoa, hold your horses, General." You chuckle, planting a kiss on his forehead before leaning over to your bedside table, where your bag had been thrown previously. "There was no way I'd come back empty handed after all these months, yanno?"

You pull out the wrapped box, place it in his hands. Cyno stares at it quizzically, but opens the packaging with care after you nudge him in the side.

Oh, his expression is so, so priceless. Cute, too cute, so cute you could die right now on the spot for excess of sugar in your blood. He looks like a kid who's just received the toy he oh so wanted and ranted about.

"It's not just any deck," You explain. "It's a deck made of cards I've gathered around from different regions. Some were more challenging to get, but I've been playing with you for a long time, haven't I? Of course I'd win."

Meanwhile Cyno takes the liberty to browse its contents, and just like you said, they're not from Sumeru. He's barely ever seen them, some are literally unknown, and he's ecstatic at the sight. How long did it take? How much effort?

"This is…" there's no right term to describe it. "Wonderful. You are wonderful, [Name]."

He goes for a hug and you feel like your bodies fit perfectly in each other's arms, as if it was meant to be. Right now, all that matters is this. And it will always be for all you care.

You smile into his shoulder, smooch the base of his neck. "Is it too early to say 'I love you?'."

"I would actually say we're late, Love."

"I love you, then, you Dum-Dum."

"I love you."

"..."

"You are like my asthma. You just take my breath away."

You make sure Cyno slams his head as you throw him off the bed.

DON'T copy/repost my work. REBLOG instead! ©nyxthejinx

#Genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #Cyno x reader #cyno #genshin Cyno #genshin impact #gn reader #Genshin drabble #genshin fluff #Genshin Impact smut #cyno smut #Genshin smut #| Genshin Impact 🌓 |#| Nyx Writes 🌑 |

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temptaetions · 11 months ago

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not in that way 🌼 l.mh

a/n: i do not own the photo above, it is from stray kids' rock-star concept photos. that being said, this drabble is based on sam smith’s “not in that way.” absolute banger and i will never get over it. thank you.

synopsis: he says he’s sorry, believe him, he loves you...but not in that way.

genre: friends with benefits au | unrequited love | gn!reader | angst pairing: lee minho x gn!reader

word count: 2.2k | lowercase intended.

rating: general audience. minors do not interact.

warnings: unrequited love? one-sided love? rejection. a lot of crying.

what to listen to: not in that way - sam smith | don’t watch me cry - jorja smith | love in the dark - adele

in the beginning, it was smooth.

he was smooth. from best friend…to whatever this was.

his voice sent chills down your spine and goosebumps prickled your skin, your tongue tied as his own softly grazed the shell of your ear. your shivers would send him into hyperdrive, loving your gentle whimpers as he worked his way down your shoulders. he would nip at your collarbones, leaving small signs of his adoration for you all over.

he would leave your body in a state of disarray, your mind swirling with his sweet nothings and the aftermath of his lips on your own. your eyes would shimmer with tears as he would wave his goodbyes from his car down the stairs, and your heart yearned to follow him to the end of the world.

he played with you like he loved you, and it was too much.

eventually, you would know the truth.

the way he said your name was no coincidence, and the way he spoke to you was nothing short of love. he loved talking to you. when you weren’t around, he’d constantly message you things he thought you’d like, updates about his day, or simply that he missed you.

minho was the warm caress of the summer breeze, the soft sprinkle of rain in a drought. he was the freezing of the ice on your fingertips, the crunch of leaves under your boots. minho was something you’d seen every season of, and yet, never got bored.

he’d never hurt you, not on purpose. everything he did was simply because he cared about you, and loved having you around. you were his best friend, his pal, his road trip buddy. you’d watch movies, sing songs aloud in the car together, and share water regardless of sickness or health. admittedly, gross, but it was love.

he knew what you searched for. he knew you’d always taken care of someone else, always molded yourself for someone else. always gave every last ounce you had until whoever received it decided they no longer wanted to entertain someone who needed reciprocation.

yet, he never set any expectations. he came over whenever you asked him to, without a fight. he’d kiss your forehead with the utmost tenderness, and hold you in his arms until you felt like letting go. he cooked your dinner, he washed your hair, and held you close under the showerhead’s running water. he would rub lotion on your feet as you ate melting ice cream, slipping your socks on for you after taking the bowl back to the kitchen. he took care of you, and you felt like he was the black cat to your golden retriever.

his voice would be hushed as you played piano for him, mumbling his sweet praises for you from the bed. he’d watch the way your fingers played the keys like the strings of his heart, the way you would curl those same fingers through his hair when you’d kiss him delicately, your lipstick staining his skin in hues of reds and purples.

he liked watching you just do things, he often sat in your living room (after offering to help) just observing you as you tidied up. he was your practice audience for presentations, he’d give you feedback and ask all the important questions. it was hard for him to admit his own feelings, but he knew you’d have no problem doing so.

“i love you. so much.” your eyes were filled with tears as you watched him pack. he was leaving for a trip, the first one in ages (and the first he wasn’t taking you on.) he’d been the first person to care for you in such detail, the first to really know you without boundaries and the first to continue being excited about your presence in his life.

“yes, y/n. i love you, too.” he absentmindedly folded his favorite shirt (you got it for him) and tossed it into his duffel. you slide off the bed, grabbing his arm to get his attention. “y/n, i really need to pack, love.”

smiling slightly, you pull him into an embrace, your arms meeting the warmth of his neck, only slightly touching the cool metal of his necklace. he rubs your back in routine, slowly moving the both of you towards his bed, pushing his duffel out of the way to lay down, and pulling you on top of him. “you feel so safe.” he’d once said, and ever since, he’d do this in times of stress.

“what’s on your mind, babe?” his fingers slid through the sleeves of your shirt, his fingers tracing shapes in your shoulders, and you nestled into his touch. “i love you, minho.”

“you’re very affectionate today. is this because i’m going on my trip?” he’s still rubbing circles into your skin, and you chuckle lightly. “no. i just want you to know that i love you.”

he stops, like a lightbulb lit up in his mind.

“right, and i love you. is there something you’re hiding from me?” his tone changes, and you lift your head up to look into his eyes. they give you the butterflies something awful, and minho can suddenly feel your heartbeat a little faster. he blinks once, twice, three times before taking his hands out of your shirt, but you’re too lost in the sight of him to notice.

“you don’t know how lovely you are, really.” your voice is saccharine, and he feels mildly nauseous as he quickly tries to sit up, helping you slip off him. your eyes change, and he can feel the frog in his throat. “what? y/n, are you okay?”

“what do you mean? of course i’m okay, i’m just expressing my love for you.” your face says you don’t understand what you could have possibly done wrong, but minho feels his stomach sink as the words leave his mouth. “love? in what way?”

your eyebrows raise quickly before falling straight just as fast, your lips pursing before you speak once more. “as in, love? i’m in love with you, i love you, minho. you don’t have to say it back right away, it’s fine. i know these things take time.”

minho nearly throws up as you say that, but he doesn’t know why. he feels like he’s been hit by a truck, all of your words start falling onto him like anvils from the sky. you feel your throat tighten at his reaction, and move away from him. quietly, you grab your jacket, slipping it over your arms as he dry heaves.

“y/n, please, wait. i do, i love you!” he’s chasing after you, your vision blurry as you search for your car in the parking lot of his building. your shoes are unlaced, and you nearly trip as you reach your car. “it’s okay, minho. it’s fine.”

“please, it’s not your fault. believe me, i love you, but not in that way. please, i’m sorry, i don’t want you to feel differently–”

“minho, i think i just need some space from you.” your words bite at him, and he feels his face fall as you slam your car door shut. you crank the engine, pressing your foot to the gas and missing his hip by a hair as you speed off.

he will never know that feeling.

message from: lee minho (monday) [09:33] are you still upset? can i please come over when i get back? [10:47] i saw a bunny at a thrift here at reminded me of you, and i got it [15:10] i understand. i will text you tomorrow.

message from: lee minho (tuesday) [08:11] good morning, i hope you slept well. i had a bagel with smoked salmon and capers for breakfast. what did you have? [11:38] my mom asked about you. said she misses you and hopes you can come with me next time. would you want to? [17:59] any plans for tonight, y/n?

message from: lee minho (wednesday) [10:42] good morning.

[10:43] y/n y/l/n: stop messaging me. (read: 10:43)

message from: lee minho (saturday) [08:22] i’m coming home today. will you let me see you?

message from: lee minho (tuesday) [00:42] i can’t sleep without you.

you felt many things.

you didn’t feel angry. you felt confused, but not angry. you asked for space just to figure things out, to figure out if you really wanted him the way you’d expressed.

sometimes, our feelings get the best of us. it’s okay not to know what you want, as long as you can communicate that well. in this case, no one really gave an expectation as to what was acceptable and what wasn’t. you just kissed each other, held each other, bared your all to each other and figured that’d be the end of it.

you’d been packing up your apartment the past few days. you were set to move a few weeks ago, but minho never came over to help you pack like he’d promised. your dad was outside, loading boxes into the bed of his truck when minho pulled into the parking space next to him. he greeted your father, making small talk with him until he saw you barreling down the stairs with two boxes in hand. “hey, dad, these are my plates. please be careful, they’re nana’s antiques.”

“y/n.” his voice is breathless, and your ears perk at the sound of it. you’re silent as your father takes the boxes from you, packing them into the bed gently. “y/n, please let me talk to you.”

“there is nothing to talk about, minho.” you smile at your dad, who knows to not butt in. minho follows you like a lost puppy up the stairs, and into your empty apartment, aside from a few boxes. “please, just let me explain.”

“you don’t love me. it’s not a big deal. i just wish we had set some sort of expectation for whatever it was we were doing, because clearly i felt something you didn’t.” minho is quiet as you speak, and he knows you’re not facing him because if you do, you just might burst into tears. his suspicions were confirmed when you turned, holding another box with tears in your eyes. he takes it from you, trying to get your hands in his own before you just shove them in your pocket.

“i do love you, babe. i really do.” he doesn’t realize he’s crying until he sniffles, and you just shake your head. “this is not the love that you want, minho. i can understand that, you’re just not ready.”

your voice is as gentle as it was the day you first met, and the day you told him he was cute, and the same way it was when you told him you were scared before he kissed you for the first time. “i can learn, i can.”

your smile is as soft as it was when you took his birthday picture last year, and the day you held his hand for the first time, and the day someone asked you if he was your boyfriend. “you’re not ready. maybe if you can answer this, i will listen to what you have to say.”

minho nods frantically as you run the tape across the top of another box, and you sigh.

“if love was not what you were looking for, why did you start this? what was the purpose of the burning skin, of the way you held me at night? why did you grasp onto me for dear life like it was nothing without me?”

his tears are streaming as you run out of tape, and you look up to him.

“i do…i do love you.” his voice is trembling, and you can feel a single tear drip down your face as you pull him in closely. your embrace is snug, like it was when he graduated college, and when he took care of you when you were sick, and when you told him you loved him. he can’t let you go, even as you attempt to pull away. “please, please don’t leave. i’m so dependent on you, i can’t let you go. i’m such a fool, please. i love you, i do.”

you feel your stomach churn as you pull away, wiping another stray tear from your cheek.

“i have to go. please, don’t contact me for a while. i have a lot to figure out.” you take both of the boxes in your hands, beelining for the door before stopping. you timidly place a chaste kiss on his lips, your lipstick staining his lips for the last time. a cherry red, his favorite on you.

“i do, i love you. please.” his voice is full of desperation, but you can’t bear to look at him a second longer. it was a huge deal. it was upsetting.

you will move on. you will be okay, promise.

you stand in the doorway, lower lip trembling as you try not to cry into your words.

“i’m sorry, believe me. i love you, but not in that way.”

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snellyfish · 8 months ago

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Why is Angie your favourite character?

This is really funny I just got off call with Glownary and was talking about how much I don't miss Danganronpa discourse. Anyway I hope someone finds a way to get mad at me in this post!

((Admittedly I'd probably actually place Korekiyo above her because he ACTUALLY has a relevant and specified canon story,,, but, y'kno))

Plain and simple, she just has a handful of design and character tropes I super adore in characters! As a base, I'm usually not super into,,, well-adjusted, well-liked , reasonable, and rational characters. LMAO. They're fine but I live for exaggeration. I LOVE when they're little freaks and not watered down at all for the viewers sake/comfort, I love when they (both the writers and the written) just keep twisting the knife for no good reason other than the bit despite how unconventional it may be.

One could argue that her not being watered down and being as shitty to the other players as she is is a trauma response, or just a mentally ill person being mentally ill. It can be neat to think of her that way sometimes! It's of my opinion that almost all Danganronpa characters are super open-ended lore/personality-wise and we as fans are just making up canon as we go because it's FUCKING FUN, and, as such, all the ways that Angie can be interpreted is very interesting to me-- EVEN if that's seen as "the irredeemable annoying religion-force-feeding zealot antagonist." Which is, of course, an objectively awful way to view anyone REGARDLESS of media illiteracy, but, you know! I like weird freaks so this "flaw" they see is simply more food for me. Yippee!!

Whether I think she's canonically A) genuinely malicious and sadistic, B) traumatized from an abusive religious sect, C) honestly caring about the other players, and/or D) none/all of the above? I'll never tell! Oops all bangers!

Tropes I enjoy, whether or not I found myself enjoying them BECAUSE of Angie herself;;

Religion, especially if it's horrifying and...bad! (Most of my own characters deal heavily with religion and religious trauma, I think it's cool to play with, whether or not it's a fantasy religion like I think Angie's is)

CULTS! Cult behavior! Let's live in a commune!! (GUYS I LOVE MIDSOMMAR)

Dark skin / light hair contrast color combo goes hard!!!

+ The pansexual flag palette is literally my favorite color combo ever!!!!

Manipulative little shits!!!!!

Small scary women!!!!!!

Islander stuff, it's very nostalgic to me and I just have a deep love and appreciation for the beach and ocean!!!!!!!

Piercings!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Cutesy sunshine character who could and would stab you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

BLOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IDK HOW THIS WASN'T MY FIRST POINT!!!!!!!!!!

AND SHE'S JUST FUCKING SILLY!!!!!!!! SHE'S GENUINELY SO FUNNY AND CUTE ESPECIALLY IN HER INTERACTIONS WITH SHUICHI!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE HER SO BAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She was an IMMEDIATE favorite when I played V3 and when I found out that, like, everyone fucking HATED her and she's probably the least liked character in the entire class by the fans, my brain immediately went the contrarian route to find reasons to like her even MORE. I tend to do this a lot, but when it's a character I already enjoy, it's even worse, dude.

ummmmm obligatory Shinnaga mention sorry but I frequently tend to appreciate a character a lot more based on potential dynamics alone. Ships, romantic or not, have legitimately gotten me to enjoy characters I hated before, based on interesting interactions unique to them alone. So while Kiyo and Angie's (they're making out btw) ingame dynamic and dialogues aren't REALLY what my sick and twisted mind views them as, it's worth noting that my honest belief and interpretation of the two of them could even give me a sliver of that dynamic being possible .......... means she's fuckin slay ............ it means love wins..... It means Vote For Yonaga 2024

#angie yonaga #danganronpa #danganronpa v3 #character analysis #idk #ask #anon

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7grandmel · 1 year ago

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Todays rip: 21/09/2023

Earth, Wind & Bombs

Season 1 Featured on: GilvaSunner's Highest Quality Video Game Rips: Volume 7

Ripped by Nape Mango

youtube

Do you have ANY idea how hard it was to pick just *one rip* for today?

You all likely expected ahead of time what type of rip was to be featured for today - September 21st has practically become its own holiday, the day to celebrate Earth, Wind & Fire's September, due to the specific date mentioned in that song. Once a year, we all pay respects to one of the most legendary pieces of music out there, and of course SiIva is no different.

For seven seasons and eight years, SiIva has never missed a beat on celebrating Earth, Wind & Fire annually. Its not quite a mainstay meme on the channel, but its an inevitability we all love and cherish - an event as expected as Halloween, Christmas and Wood Man's birthday. There's even some in-jokes on the channel pertaining specifically to September: the composer for Dragon Ball: Budokai Tenkaichi 3 infamously plagiarized the song in the theme Capsule Obtain, and thus all SiIvaGunner rips from said game are actually just rips of September. Even outside of today's date, September continues to get attention in rips completely unrelated to the inofficial holiday, and they're almost all bangers in their own right.

In the end, I felt it was best to stay simple. The final few months of Season 1 of SiIva were magical in a lot of ways, such as what I wrote about on File Select Fusion Collab and Planet Wisp Mashup Medley. The most obvious reason for this magic is also the simplest to explain - the rippers had simply gotten REALLY good at their craft. While Season 1 as a whole is oft defined as the era lacking in proper quality control, the final quarter of the season had everyone firing on all cylinders, and Earth, Wind & Bombs demonstrates that perfectly. Like some of Nape Mango's other most popular rips, its a pitch-perfect Super Mario 64 arrangement of September - it exudes the joy of two deeply nostalgic pieces of art all at once. Super Mario 64 is even more beloved on SiIva than September is, yet with the two combined the feeling of warmth and comfort just gets amplified a thousand fold. Really, its an arrangement that speaks for itself - an absolute jam that shows how Nape Mango is, now and forever, the greatest of all time.

#todays siivagunner #season 1 #siivagunner #siiva #Nape Mango #september #earth wind and fire #september 21 #21st night of september #super mario 64 #mario 64 #super mario #super mario bros #nintendo 64 #Youtube #Bandcamp

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thatcheeseycandle · 8 months ago

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OKAY SO UH IVE BEEN LOOKING OVER THAT SOMEHOW POPULAR FANDOM POLL I DID AND YKNOW I MISSED OUT ON LOTS OF ROLES SO LET ME ASK YOU THIS AGAIN-

(Oh and please dont take this too seriously, it is simply made for fun and for everyone to have a great time answering this poll.)

I tried to add on the more well-known roles so IM REALLY SORRY IF I DIDNT ADD LIKE ALL OF THEM-

IF IVE MISSED OUT ANY OTHER ROLES I'LL EITHER PUT THEM IN A POST REBLOGGING THIS ONE OR DO A NEW POLL POST

#ttte #fandom #cheesyversial rants

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cbk1000 · 1 year ago

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Hi there!

Ive recently stumbled across your works, and I just wanted to say that I enjoy your writing soso much!! Each time i read any of ur pieces, i feel ever so blessed that i can read them for freee,,, ??like wow!! I absolutely love your characterization of arthur, and any piece of banter you write never fails to make me laugh!

Your writing style is so addictive, ive honestly found myself missing it when I read anything else. Because of this, id like to ask if you have any book recs? hehee anything that inspired that brain and writing of yours seems like it would be a worthwile read!! From ur alltime favs, or recent favs, comfort books, or books that gave u personal epiphanies, pls feel free to not hold back !! (If its not too much trouble)

And once again, thank you soso much for all your lovely works!! 💗

I LOVE talking about books, so thank you so much for this ask. This is a very truncated list of some of my favourite authors and books because if I wanted to talk about all of them, that would be a post as long as one of my fics.

First up is Terry Pratchett, who I came to rather late; I just started reading Discworld in 2020, despite @clonemaster-general and @jinxedwood telling me years earlier I should read him, so they should feel free to be smug about the fact that I ignored their sound advice for a long time and then went, "Ok, where do I sign up for the cult" after reading approximately one (1) Pratchett novel.

Discworld is a fantasy satire series that's over 40 books long, but those 40+ books simply take place in the same world and do not have to be read in order, although I would recommend reading any subseries featuring the same characters in order (the City Watch books starting with 'Guards! Guards', the Witches starting with ''Wyrd Sisters' etc.) Pratchett did write some non-Discworld books, although the bulk of his very large body of work is that series. He was a very gifted writer who was able to present the stupidity and injustices of humanity in a way that made you laugh and feel that it's bearable to live alongside these things. No other author has made me laugh so much at dumb little puns or dick jokes and then suddenly slapped me with a banger of a line about human nature.

'The Once and Future King' by T.H. White. A retelling of Malory's 'Le Morte d'Arthur'. It's silly, it's touching, it asks why humans go to war. If you're tired of relentless grimdark, this book shows you that a novel can explore serious themes and ask serious questions of its readers while also being a bit silly and stupid, because like suffering, silliness and stupidity is an intrinsic part of the human experience.

'The Left Hand of Darkness' by Ursula Le Guin. I could really just say, "All of Ursula Le Guin's stuff" because I've read several novels, a ton of her short stories, plus most of her essay collections and I've loved them all, but I wanted to mention this one particularly because Le Guin was examining our ideas of gender and society in the fucking 60s and I'm tired of hearing right-wing nutjobs bang on about trans people like they're some alien species newly landed on our planet to kidnap our children. Also, what I love about Le Guin's sci-fi is that she was concerned primarily with the culture of alien societies, not laser guns, and her world building is incredibly deep in that regard. Her father was an anthropologist, and you can see how his studies shaped her writing.

'The Lymond Chronicles' by Dorothy Dunnett. I love me a good swashbuckler, and these are some good swashbucklers. There's also some really beautiful prose that really evokes the landscapes of 15th century Europe, and her action/battle scenes are some of the most gripping I've read. The caveat with this one is that I actually don't like the main character all that much; he's a real special guy who speaks all the languages, is good at all the things, is a master strategist at 20, and is hot to boot. But the story is told mostly through the POVs of other characters that get caught up in his exploits so you're not stuck in his insufferable perspective, and I found the books overall (there are six in the series) very hard to put down.

'The Count of Monte Cristo' by Alexandre Dumas. The OG swashbuckler, really. Shipwrecks! Duels! Poison! Revenge! People just don't do dramatic adventure novels like Dumas anymore.

'War and Peace' by Tolstoy. I can't not mention this; I've read it twice so far in English and once in Russian. Tolstoy was an amazing observer of human nature. Also, he clearly thought Napoleon was a little bitch and reading about him from the perspective of a Russian novelist is quite entertaining after reading about him from Victor Hugo's perspective.

'Les Miserables' by Victor Hugo. I also have to mention this one. Yes, there are very lengthy asides on the Parisian sewer system. In the middle of a chase scene. But tbh, Hugo was curious about everything and while maybe he talked about every single one of those things a bit too long, it still endears him to me. Also, he was known more as a poet than a novelist by contemporary readers, and even in translation I think the fact that he was a poet really comes through in the prose.

Also, really anything by Patricia McKillip if you want dreamy, poetic fantasy that feels like being dropped right into the middle of a fairytale where magic has no hard rules and is something a bit wild and dangerous and beautiful.

I also read a lot of non-fiction, so I'll just list a few of my faves: 'Survival in Auschwitz' by Primo Levi; 'The Gulag Archipelago' by Alexandre Solzhenitsyn; James Herriott's 'All Creatures Great and Small' series; 'Landmarks' by Robert Macfarlane (but really any of his nature writing; this one I liked particularly because it's about the power of language to evoke a sense of place and how our vocabulary for the natural world is slowly being subsumed by our increasingly technologically-driven world). 'The Demon-Haunted World' by Carl Sagan, which was written in the 90s but if anything is even more relevant today as we struggle with parsing the mythology of pseudoscience and the real-world harm it perpetuates.

And I read a fuck ton of poetry, so I'll just rattle off a list of some of my favourite poets: Wilfred Owen, Isaac Rosenberg, Siegfried Sassoon, Rupert Brooks, Edward Thomas (I also love his nature writing), Alexandre Blok, Pushkin, Ursula Le Guin (she's primarily known as a novelist, but she has some very good poetry as well), Mikhail Lermontov, Anna Akhmatova, Alexander Pope, Tennyson (particularly Idylls of the King), Seamus Heaney, and Yeats.

Anyway, this is a small sampler of books I've read and loved.

#books #jenn reads

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palimpsessed · 1 year ago

Text

I have finally finished the draft for chapters 2 and 3 of Strictly Professional. (Also, have you seen the ART?!?!) Every day for at least the past week I’ve been like “okay, you’ll finish it today” hahaha. Remember when I said it was going to be a 4K one shot? hahahaha! And then chapter 1 was 18k? hahahahahahahahah I’m totally fine. I swear I know how words work.

Anywho. Being a very slow reader, I gave myself the evening off and hope to get through editing tomorrow.

In the meantime, I had some banger lines that I simply couldn’t use. So I’ve decided a dead darlings could be fun? And I will also give you an excerpt that’s staying in. (Spice ahead—be ye warned!)

For “plot” context, Simon and Baz are at a conference where they are sharing a bed. Baz is Simon’s supervisor. They are both very horny and very stupid. ☺️

Six Dead Darlings Sunday:

“As your immediate supervisor, I must inform you that, where seduction is concerned, you fail to meet expectations and I will be making note of that demerit in your performance evaluation.”

It’s an odd sensation—as though he’s giving me his laughter to hold. (I want to. I want to keep it with me.)

I don’t think I’m ever getting my hand back. Which is just as well. It’s far better off in Salisbury’s custody than it is in my own. It will have a much happier life being able to touch him.

“I don’t see any point in not being honest. What do I have to hide, anyway? Your cock is touching my cock. That’s pretty honest, isn’t it?”

“That would be devastating to my ego considering how much effort I’ve put into being unreadable.”

“I’d be a lot more comfortable if I’d gotten you naked first.”

Many Sentences Staying In Sunday:

I squeeze his arse as he plumbs the depths of my mouth with his tongue. I meet it with my own, opening wider, surging up—anything to be closer to him.

He pushes his arse back into my hands.

I can feel his muscles flex and shift under my fingers and i knead deeper.

He lets out a broken moan, tearing his mouth away, severing our kiss.

“Too much,” he gasps. The words fall hot on my face—a puff of humid air shared between us. “Need you now.”

Yes, I’m doing that thing where I check in on tumblr to see what I’ve missed, post a snippet, tag everyone, and run away again. Once this fic is done, I look forward to getting caught up on reading and reblogging all of your posts this week. ❤️

@blackberrysummerblog @larkral @artsyunderstudy @confused-bi-queer @nightimedreamersworld @fatalfangirl @j-nipper-95 @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @aristocratic-otter @ivelovedhimthroughworse @alexalexinii @carryon-agatha @ionlydrinkhotwater @shrekgogurt @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @shemakesmeforget @seafoampuddings @ileadacharmedlife @moodandmist @hushed-chorus @thewholelemon @raenestee

#six sentence sunday #dead darlings #strictly professional

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snoopysfriendwoodstock · 5 months ago

Note

what's ur full ttpd song ranking and why?

omg… this will be long lol

1. who’s afraid of little old me? - taylor has tried “female rage” a couple times now and it always falls flat bc she has to be the victor/mastermind of all of it. mad woman & vigilante shit just kinda suck! FINALLY in this song she sort of admits defeat? i find it really interesting to hear her reflecting on her career & her own view of herself and the public perception of her without her feeling the need to throw a “but i’m okay! and actually i’m winning!” in at the end. also the vocals and theatrics are soooo good i just love it <3

2. the smallest man who ever lived - that ENDING. this takes me back to some very classic taylor songs, especially the dear john bridge or last kiss bridge and as a speak now girl i can’t get enough.

3. the prophecy - both people who love this song and people who hate it reduce it down to “she’s sad she doesn’t have a boyfriend” but imo this song perfectly captures the ACHE of being someone who just always has a little ribbon of loneliness running through them. it’s that dark middle of the night place you can’t let yourself go to. and it’s PERFECT.

4. so high school - i don’t have a lot to say here but this is the song she’s talking abt when she says she’s putting narcotics in them. i love it so much. do that impression you did of your dad again ❤️

5. but daddy i love him - i love her delusional ass! also the “i’m having his baby” line is soooo funny sorry!

6. guilty as sin? - there’s a reason this one’s a fan favorite! it’s just soooo good. there’s nothing wrong with a sexy song.

7. so long, london - “i’m just mad as hell cause i loved this place” is such a taylor line. so simply devastating. i think she got away from just very simply stating her emotions/feelings in her newer albums but this song has soooo many lines that go back to that form of writing that she’s so good at. “stopped trying to make him laugh” is another one that really hits.

8. loml - this hits my favorite genre of taylor swift song that is just so sad it’s almost like oh my god you have to stop… what a valiant roar! what a bland goodbye!

9. the black dog - ik i’m kind of a broken record at this point but “i just don’t understand how you don’t miss me” is SOOOO taylor. very early taylor! and i love the idea of taylor swift having someone’s location on her phone. she is sooo pathetic she’s just like me!

10. the bolter - songs used to be STORIES!

11. the alchemy - i can’t explain it. it just scratches my brain really well. i love how it soundssss

12. fresh out the slammer - i LOVE the chorus on this one. and i love when it slows down at the end and gets kinda weird.

13. clara bow - i LOVE this song. i love how haunting it is i love “you look like taylor swift” i love how pessimistic it is as an album closer. it feels like folklore again w/ hoax as the last song. she said we are NOT in change/long live/begin again/clean/new years day/daylight hours anymore we have LOST hope. in fact it’s super interesting compared to change/long live that are all optimistic about the industry/making a name for herself bc now she’s realized there were other taylor swifts before and there will be other taylor swifts later.

14. how did it end? - another just absolute fucking banger of a sad song. the commentary on fame/the public/her fanbase hits.

15. i hate it here - unfortunately this song is sooooo me it’s not even funny.

16. i can do it with a broken heart - who is this “nobody” that doesn’t know she’s miserable? i love this song it’s so funny. “i cry a lot but i am so productive” is a lyric that was necessary for society

17. my boy only breaks his favorite toys - this song grew on me SO much. it’s so pathetic i love it.

18. florida!!! - this song rocks so hard. i think taylor & florence’s voices compliment each other so much

19. the albatross - i love her voice on this one. she’s here to destroy you!!!

20. the tortured poets department - i love this one i’m sorry. i love the sound i love that it feels like she’s trying something new i love how cringe and desperate it is. also lucy dacus mention!

21. peter - i wish i understood this song the way a lot of people do but it’s simply not my favorite! i do love the way she keeps repeating “you said you were gonna grow up then you were gonna come find me” in the chorus. don’t listen to this & never grow up back to back. it’s not funny.

22. down bad - hated this one at first but it has REALLY grown on me. i love the alien abduction metaphor! “i might just die it would make no difference” is like come on girl get up

23. i look in people’s windows - love this one, don’t listen to it much. but never skip when it’s on. her voice is gorgeous and i loveee the writing on it

24. the manuscript - again, i don’t choose to put this one on much but holy shiiiitttt… now she eats kids cereal? and can only sleep if it’s in her mother’s bed?

25. cassandra - i love the idea of this and it has some great lyrics but i feel like she didn’t quite get it off the ground? i love the bridge. it’s like ALMOST there. cassandra is my favorite mythological figure so maybe i just had really high expectations.

26. imgonnagetyouback - this will for sure rise in the rankings soon bc i’m finally getting it. it’s so fun, just not as good as a lot of the anthology tracks.

27. fortnight - i don’t love this one, but the chorus is really catchy. & post malone’s verse is the best part, that gets stuck in my head all the time.

28. thanK you aIMee - god this song is so funny. “everybody knows my mother is a saintly woman but she used to say she wished that you were dead!” i’m just kinda sick of these kind of songs from her if that makes sense?

29. chloe or sam or sophia or marcus - i’m waiting for this one to click!!! i’m sure it will & there’s parts i REALLY like but i skip it every single time

30. robin - i’m sorry it’s a skip from me. it’s beautiful but i’m never ever wanting to hear it. it’s sweet! but not for me

31. i can fix him (no really i can) - idk the rhythm and tempo of this song doesn’t work for me. it sucks bc her voice is so sexy on this one & i love the pathetic aspect but i always skip. it’s not as bad as my least favorite on other albums tho <3

#long post

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