#{Leithe Drabble

[helpmyster]

uhhh silly little drabble of my au is done!!

y'all can nibble on this while I chip at chapter 7 (still ideas for the chapter r appreciated bc i ain't got shit yet)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64278070

<33

[arcxnumvitae]

Part 4

Gentry crowded into the throne room, a quietly murmuring mass of worry and indignation. Who was this new man to have declared himself king? Despite word that King Oisean had slept with no other but his wife, had he had dalliances elsewhere? Who was this heir? The murmurs only seemed to grow once the king's two-toned eyes were noticed. Another source of worried murmuring were what were presumably the bodies of guards still impaled in various places against the walls and floors, silver gore scattered around them. The gentry tended to avoid those areas.

Iain, completely unbothered by the low chatter, lounged atop the throne as a hand idly caressed one of its arms. As Iomhar and Eilidh filed in and scanned the rom, Eilidh's eyes landed on Ruaidhri-- standing oddly close to where the supposed new king sat. What was that about? Eilidh shot Ruaidhri a wide-eyed questioning look, to which Ruaidhri widened his own eyes in a silent response. To others he may have looked as composed as usual, but to her...he seemed a bit freaked out. That was to be expected though, wasn't it? Yet she couldn't shake the feeling it had something to do with his proximity to the king.

The last of the gentry filed in, and Iomhar spared a glance behind him as the heavy doors to the throne room began to creak shut of their own accord, or, more likely, by the new king's will. He dearly hoped Sivel would remain in the room he had been ushered to. He didn't anticipate violence, nothing would be gained by slaughtering the gentry, but if worse came to worse...

The quiet in the room slowly began to die down, until the man spoke up.

"My subjects, I am your new king for the foreseeable future it seems. My name is Iain Moireasdan. It is my understanding that each new royal," laughter lingered in the word, "is ushered in by an oath of fealty sworn to them by their personal guards. I thought to expand that celebration a bit, and require it of each gentry as well."

A rush of protests broke out across the room, angry, indignant-- all were quickly silenced by a rumble across the ground. The king's expression quickly darkened as he sat up in the throne. The voices quickly died down. Except for one.

"What happened to King Camhlaidh and Princess Tara?"

Iain's eyes quickly locked onto Iomhar, and he raised a brow. "Your name?"

Eilidh's hand settled in his to quietly tug it, a silent warning. But what else was he meant to do now? Simply quietly bow his head to a miscreant who seemed no better than a bully? "Iomhar Mèinnearach, member of the Council."

"'Mèinnearach'..." The other man seemed to savor the name on his tongue, thinking deeply about something. A light suddenly lit in his eyes, and he let out a laugh. "Ah, Mèinnearach!"

A root shot from the ground and pierced through Iomhar's right shoulder. Blood began to seep from the wound around the plant, and Iomhar let out a muffled noise of pain. Iain shrugged amidst the gasps let out by the crowd.

"The former king and princess have been taken care of, by me of course. Any other questions, Mèinnearach?" The vine began to pull, dragging Iomhar forward, with stumbling steps and pained breaths, towards the king.

Leithe began to step forward, but her father's hand around her wrist harshly jerked her backwards.

Eilidh instead moved to stand between Iomhar and the king, fixing him with a steady look.

The king seemed unbothered. "And your name, dear?"

This time, it was Eilidh who ignored Iomhar's attempt to tug Eilidh behind him, away from the king's attention. "Eilidh Deòireach."

A second root wrapped around her neck and brought her to her knees. Eilidh's panicked fingers scrabbled at the unyielding plant, choking as her air was ruthlessly cut off. A cry came from within the crowd, and two figures began to push their way towards their daughter. Neacel and Liùsaidh's eyes were fixated solely on Eilidh, and a cry went out throughout the crowd when two more roots shot from the ground through their abdomens. Eilidh let out a choked scream as her parents' forms slumped, and the crowd began to panic. A few even attempted to pound at the wooden doors, as if any of the terrified servants would free them and risk the mad king's wrath.

Iain, of all things, seemed annoyed, as if the scurrying of ants beneath him had grown too bothersome. The sky outside darkened, and more roots shot from the ground to wrap around the ankles and wrists of each gentry member present.

Iain grinned at the display of power. "Perhaps your weakling royalty caused you to forget, but Seelie is mine to control. It is mine. There is no defying me when within the borders of my domain. To snuff out the lives of each and every person here would be as easy and effortless as a thought." The roots began to tighten, creeping up the bodies of the captured gentry as their panic grew.

"Y-Your Majesty." Only the small stutter and the slight pallor to his expression betraying his nerves, Ruaidhri settled a hand on the king's arm with an easy smile. The title alone seemed to momentarily placate the king, and he took a deep breath and continued. "If you wish to rule over them, it will be no fun if they are dead." His hand slid up the king's arm, and the man's gaze lingered on it with an indulgent grin.

"You make a good point, I suppose. I cannot procure more gentry from anywhere after all, can I?" The roots retreated from the gentry back into the ground. Iomhar, one hand clutching his now freely bleeding shoulder, knelt to wrap an arm tight around Eilidh's crumpled, crying form. For a long moment, her sobs were the only noise in the otherwise dead silent room.

Iain looked over the room, seemingly satisfied at his handiwork. He turned to a few guards positioned nearby. "Take those two to the dungeons. I will determine which others bear the names in time. As for the rest of you," he shot a glare at the petrified crowd. "Get out of my sight."

[chxrrywines]

₊˚⊹♡ blondie’s wips

a collection of drafts or ideas i have for future fics in no particular order. please feel free to ask about them if you’re curious, but i swap about a bit in writing them so please don’t ask for ones to be completed first / try to rush me in finishing them. fic writing is supposed to be fun!! i may also post drabbles from time to time that never make it onto this post because i write them pretty spontaneously :)

my masterlist is here for my completed works.

if you’d like to be tagged in any specific fics, or added to my tag list, please reply underneath this post what you want to be tagged in (eg. what characters, sfw/nsfw, etc).

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

sam winchester x reader

• peter | hurt/comfort song fic with peter by taylor swift, reader and sam were close as kids and always promised they’d run away together some day, but when sam goes to stanford they lose touch until years later — have started writing

• polaroids | nsfw smut/fluff fic, writing as a gift for a friend, for sam’s birthday reader decides to give him a few presents for his eyes only — have started writing

• we’ll never have sex | hurt/comfort song fic with we’ll never have sex by leith ross, reader is used to being used for her body in all past relationships, so when sam comes along and loves her for her, it’s a welcome and soothing change — have started writing

• i’ll be summer sun for you forever | hurt/comfort fic, sam’s trauma from his torture in the beginning of s12 never left, and after a day of really struggling with it, reader helps him relax and have a soothing evening — have started writing

• juno | fluff single girl dad sam fic, reader is a new waitress at the local diner that sam often takes his daughter to, and both he and his daughter juno build a connection with the kind waitress — haven’t started writing

• in a week | angst hurt/comfort song fic with in a week by hozier, sam and reader have both been fatally hurt, but maybe dying isn’t so bad if they die together — haven’t started writing

[basedonconjecture]

a word with friends

thank you for the tags @serensama & @mythals-whore !! gently tagging: @operative-arrow, @muqington, @introvertedfangrl, & @complikatedd if you wantttt but zero pressure friends

this week’s word: apricity

Definition: The warmth or light of the sun in winter A noun.

This got longer than intended but I did want to do a Davrin focused drabble so, um, have a Davrook flavored thing? (What? Me? I know. It’s not fully fleshed out or anything so… who knows where this will go)

—

Davrin found her where he always did: in the corner, seated in a chair balanced on two legs with only the wall keeping it upright, and at a distance from the others. Always separate. Always pretending not to notice. The mess hall was loud, bustling with both wardens and fresh recruits who'd just started their training, the stone walls amplifing their voices. They were all clustured in small groups around the long wooden tables, trading jabs and swapping stories as usual, their camaraderie part of the routine. There wasn't much else to do at Weisshaupt but train, watch, drink, and wait. Wait for orders. Wait for darkspawn. Wait for the blight. Wait to be Called. The drinking helped—so did the camaraderie—but not for Leithe.

There were rumors attached to Leithe that did most of the work for her in keeping others away. Rumors that she'd murdered someone, been tried, and survived her own execution. The scar on her neck had been used as proof often enough in the telling that it was futile to insist she'd gotten it fighting a hurlock their first year as wardens. Somehow a few of them had gotten it into their heads Leithe was also a witch, though she'd never shown any power to speak of. It was in her eyes, they claimed. A brown hazel with sunbursts of gold near the pupil—amber, if one were generous enough to get poetic about it. They reminded him of falcon eyes. Sharp and watchful. He guess that was what put people off about them most. Despite the separation, she was always intensely aware of her surroundings.

That hurlock had been aiming for him while his back was turned, she'd been wounded while intervening.

He'd stopped listening to the rumors after that.

She didn't do much to help her reputation otherwise. Just like now, she often eschewed the company of other wardens, keeping to herself in her own little corner, watching the exits and their compatriots in equal turn. Taciturn, unsociable, and chronically pissed off—those were all applicable descriptors of Leithe Thorne. Prickly as her named suggested, she drew blood when not handled with care, and well Davrin knew it. Yet it never seemed enough to stop him from trying—something the others had given him grief over multiple times—but that was because he knew things they didn't.

Leithe Thorne had a weakness for nugs. He'd learned that on the same mission as the hurlock. She could barely speak for the bandages around her neck, but she'd coaxed the rodent out of a bush and right into her arms. He learned the apricity of her smile soon after. The sound of her laughter was like gulping cinnamon whiskey, which had taken only as long to learn as it did to shoot off a joke about nug hands, and he'd resolved after to hear it again.

They'd been friends ever since—her only one, as far as he could tell—and now he was here to say goodbye.

[adoredaqua]

welcome to my blog!

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this blog is just random things cultivated together. with that, there is explicit content ahead as i cater myself towards 18+ and for the girlies. so, if you are a minor or a m*n, please leave :)!

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

about me:

my name is Aurora

i am 🇵🇭 living in 🇨🇦

she/they

nineteen, an aquarius baby with a cancer moon and gemini ascendent

currently in university studying for a BA in psychology

professional overthinker, yapper, and yearner

just a flirty hyperfemme

interests:

i love watching anime, some of my favourites are death note, spirited away, the disastrous life of saiki k., kimi ni todoke, ohshc, haikyu. other shows/films that i love are pride and prejudice, arcane, but im a cheerleader, dirty dancing, my secret romance

i usually spend my free time playing video games, i prefer calming games such as sun haven, slime rancher, stardew valley, and sims 4

i love listening to music and am always open to recommendations! but my favourites are lana del rey, cigarettes after sex, twice, radiohead, chappell roan, leith ross, megan thee stallion, ethel cain, sabrina carpenter, mitski, deftones

other hobbies; painting, reading, and writing

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rules:

men and minors, please don't interact!!!

^ i will just block you

please don't send me explicit messages! i'm okie with flirting, but anything beyond that is just a no

my asks/DM's are open, i'm always happy to chat and make new friends <3

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

tags:

aurora answers ☾ - talking to y'all

aurora's rants ◇ - just me being me

aurora recommends ♡ - fics i enjoyed

aurora writes ☆ - fics/drabbles i have written

[ostebee]

Yeah, another drabble about Clair and Sawyer shenanigans because I need to wrap it up.

//CW: gore, strong language, smoking, ambiguous motifs.

***

"I managed to get some of tapes of your little performance".

Clair just hummed in acknowledgement. She just returned from latest seeking session and looked through her findings. Not many — some protein bars and mp3 player with cassette inside — but enough to keep her entertained and satuated for couple of evenings.

She pulled cigarette from the pocket and lightened it up. With dancing strokes of smoke in dimly lit room Sawyer was looking even more imposing and dangerous. It wasn't nearly as scary as any other experiment but still.

His fingers traced lines of Clair's neck before forming a strong grasp. It was silent reminder of sorts. She just rolled her eyes and extinguished the cigarette.

"Do I have to remind you about gases here?"

"I do remember, doc. Are you jealous, perhaps?"

Slight traces of smoke slowly dissolved in the cold and unwelcoming air of lab. Cold grayish eyes stared at monitor almost without blinking, without any slightest movement. Not a single muscle trembled while Sawyer was in his favourite role of all-knowing master.

"Why I should be jealous? Of your pathetic fragile body? Definitely a valid reason" sarcastically responded Sawyer before letting her go.

"I'm not blind, doc. I see this craving in you. You might be a machine but still you're bound to your old ways"

Oh yeah, that one day, when she learnt about Harley Sawyer more. The fact that he was an actual man, not weird computer-looking freak from nightmares. The fact that he was framed by his own colleagues and boss. The last one suddenly spawned one more task for her to handle — found Leith Pierre by any cost.

"So what'cha get? Something interesting?"

Tension was still present. It settled deeply inside Clair's chest with think and stinky feeling, which was quite common thing here. Maybe it was suppressed and forgotten guilt, that tried to flourish under nurturing of horrors of Playtime Co.

"You've got quite a dossier if we think in such direction. " Sawyer began to slowly walking in circles around Deponn. "You've encountered 1170 without major consequences, then built an entire scheme with luring co-workers to their death..."

"Are you trying to get on my bad side?"

"What I am trying to tell is the fact that this event put your skillset to test. Where you learnt how to behave around predators?"

"My grunkle. He was fond of extreme sports and wilderness" quietly responded Clair with solemn notes soaking her voice "I doubt you want to pay him respects"

"I indeed do want to. This is quite high proof of your cognitive abilities and motor functions"

They both fell silent for a while. It felt somehow even less comfortable yet... In some way it could count as small praise? Clair wasn't sure how to respond to any of this. She silently glared at Sawyer's monitor without any movement.

"Such a shame that you weren't an orphan. You could be a suitable material for Bigger Body"

"Are... Are you serious right now?"

"I sense cortisol boost and serotonin as well. You pathetic creature, did my little praise got to you?"

"It's not. You're an ill bastard, you know?"

Sawyer just chuckled with his usual condescending tone.

"Perhaps you could suit as Pianosaurus"

"You know what, Sawyer? Fuck you. And your horrid fantasies about putting humans into toys"

"Soon or late you'll learn how much you do need this. It's just means of time when your purpose will end and you'll be nothing but flesh for chewing"

Clair choose silence. She stormed out of labs, swearing in whispers. What she did knew is the fact that Sawyer was horribly right.

And yet to admit it so easily? Nah. Not within this lifetime.

***

It was especially difficult evening. Clair barely stood on her feet, pressing soaked with blood fabric to fresh deep wound. She leaned towards the wall, panting hardly.

"Bad day, huh?" Sawyer for sure wasn't interested "Encountered someone?"

"Your fucked up friend and his little guardian toy" growled Clair and exhaled, when Sawyer took away her hand "Is it serious?"

"It depends on whether you wrote your testament or not"

"Fuck you"

"Language, young lady" pure mockery settled in Sawyer's voice. He went towards the cabinet and pull out set of tools "I need to sew it up in any case. Sedation is a must"

"Red Smoke again?"

"Yeah. You can always die somewhere in the pits, you know"

He clearly sensed her distrust. Whether it came from posture, heart rate, whatever. There was no thing Clair could hide from Sawyer. This exact moment send her chills through the entire spine.

She remembered their discussion about turning into Bigger Body vividly. What will await her after the smoke clears? What if she will become one of this insufferable beasts she offered her help? Each of them hated her with passion, some of them was just forbidden to show it whether by the Prototype or Sawyer. And now?

Stinging pain felt even deeper when Sawyer took away her hand. Clair closed her eyes and exhaled deeply.

"Just... Just do your thing, alright?"

Quiet sizzling of gas slowly filled the room.

"It will be quick" heard Clair through foggy dizziness, which slowly but surely filled her head.

It was unclear how much time has passed. Today nightmare wasn't something extraordinary, just running from unseen entities. Dreaming cut out abruptly, leaving Clair in confused state.

"Are you like... Finished?"

She utter no sound no matter how hard she tried. It all felt... Foreign. Limbs weren't moving. Jaw wasn't moving either.

"W... What happened?"

Lab was full of unseen emptiness and voices. Hundred of words with indescribable sounding were scratching her ears and settle paralysing dread deeply inside. She tried to lover her head and...

Froze in place. One. Two. Three. Four. Five posable joints were moving with annoying clicking. It seemed to be impaled deeply inside of Clair's memory since she entered packaging department. It was unmistakably...

Her. Fucking Pianosaurus.

She almost jumped in her place. Lab changed. Voices disappeared. It was just Sawyer and her amongst cold walls and flickering monitors.

"Easy, easy. No need to be so jumpy"

"What the... What the heck, Sawyer?!"

"I did exactly what I was telling I will. Sew your wound. Relax"

She looked at her body again. No joints clicking, just... Her bruised hands. Clair exhaled and comb fingers into her hair.

"Sorry... Just had a nightmare"

"Until your full recovery you will be here"

"And you weren't listening..."

"I had my fair share of listening to nonsense about Red Smoke. Now get off my sight, would you?"

She just sighed and went to her hideout. Surprisingly, Yarnaby was here too. Clair exhaustedly exhaled and sit near this overgrown cat.

"Not a care in the world, eh? Could you soothe me?"

Yarnaby yawned with wet sound, showing his rows of teeth. Empty black voids of eyes looked at Clair. She just smiled softly at beast.

"Yeah... You're right. Let's continue sleeping, huh"

***

At this exact moment new sheet was put onto grayish folder with small marking on it. Half-printed, half-written by hand because of empty cartridges and broken printer. Harley just knew he need to write it down. Pen was all slippery and shaky yet he kept noting down everything.

"September 18th, 19XX.

Subject shows surprising level of obedience, which needs further studying. Positive reinforcement works more efficiently comparing to other methods, which could be seen as growing serotonin outbursts after gaining praise. It's rather interesting dichotomy of despise and devotion, also needs further studying.

Level of trust has grown moderately. It's still not enough. Isolation and lack of social connections are doing it's best. Subject remains reluctant and refuses to admit it's dependency. I think, we need more time.

That's even more interesting and entertaining than Yarnaby"

[unrequitedlines]

Between the Lines

summary: i wrote this after listening to 5am by leith ross on repeat and yearning for a girl that i once had. have fun!

warnings: fluffflufffluff, confessions, Boston™ MA, aggressive yearning, no happy ending

notes: i've decided to start posting my writing on here! i don't do fanfic but i'm not necessarily against it. my only issue is i'm a college student with a bunch on my plate and i don't wanna leave people hanging when i don't update a story for like 5 months. THAT BEING SAID if u have recs/requests for fics, drabbles, hcs, etc... pls put them in my inbox and if they interest me i just might go for it! the fandoms/characters i'd consider writing for are tlou (specifically abby and dina but im not against writing for ellie), arcane (mostly vi and caitlyn, separately and together bc theyre so hot both ways), spiderverse gwen stacy, and this is lowkey niche but aloy from horizon: zero dawn/forbidden west.....

I’d run into you in The Common, right around Christmas. You and I’d had our third date here, sat on a picnic blanket and surrounded by breakfast food, nearly 6 months ago. The chatter of the city would be loud as always, a street performer would be singing a melancholic rendition of Silent Night in front of the stairs leading down to Park Street. A microphone carries the notes of her gentle voice and perfectly tuned guitar through the air. Snow would dust the trees, and footprints would line the pathways. We’d both have just returned to Boston from our respective schools, finally allowing ourselves time to relax after finals.

A sweater would hang off my shoulders, just barely enough to keep the frozen air at bay. The occasional gust of wind would rip through the fabric of my sweater, cutting into my skin. Sat facing the performer, my hair would be shorter than the last time you’d seen me, now just barely reaching my shoulders. The air would smell of snow, the sun peeking shyly through the thick clouds that covered the city as it began to set at only 4 pm. Warm white lights would adorn the trees in the park, keeping the city bright and lively.

I wouldn’t be expecting it, your brown hair, wild from the wind and glowing in the sunlight, your infectious and addictive laugh echoing through the air. But I’d recognize your warm, welcoming energy anywhere. I’d remember the first time I slept over at your house, drinking white wine on your couch as we watched Gilmore Girls. I’d remember the way my heart thrummed in my chest as you put your head on my shoulder.

Then back in The Common, as I stared the memory in its face, our eyes would meet, and I’d hesitate, then wave shyly, staring from across the park sitting on a bench as if I didn’t believe you were real. You’d be just as beautiful as I’d remembered, but a little different. Maybe you styled your hair a little differently, or perhaps you decided to wear makeup that day. But then you’d walk over and smile at me, and I’d know you were real, because the rest of the world would go quiet.

“Hey,” you’d say quietly, holding a hot cup of tea. Your sweater sleeves would cover your hands, your nails long, and the color of fresh blood. My gaze would linger there for a moment as I remembered how they felt in my hair.

I’d shake away the thought, stand, and say, “Hey,” back, glancing down before asking how you’d been.

“Okay,” you’d say, taking a sip. The mint of your drink would waft through the crisp winter air, burning my nose as I breathed in. Then you’d continue, “Busy. You?”

I’d nod, looking down at my own cup, feeling the heat radiate through the reinforced paper. “Yeah, me too.”

There would be a pause, and I’d finally look you in the eye. And suddenly, I’d feel warm. Being near you had always felt like being soaked in sunlight, and now would be no different. It would be summer again, and you and I would be walking down Newbury Street, hand in hand. You’d laugh at something I’d said as we passed Trident, the place I’d met you for our first date, then call me cute. I wouldn’t take the compliment, avoiding eye contact with a shy smile on my face. Then I’d return to this moment, and with a deep breath, I’d continue.

“I um… I have something for you,” I’d say, then reach into my bag, the same striped canvas one I’d carried around the summer we fell. I’d pull out a brown leather bookmark, one with vibrantly painted mushrooms and ferns embossed on it, and a light pink ribbon tied at the top. I’d offer it to you, and our fingers would brush as you took it from my hands. “I saw it in New York and thought of you. I didn’t know if I’d ever get a chance to give it to you, but…”

I’d trail off, and you’d look down, taking the gift from my hands gently before smiling sweetly and looking back up at me. And suddenly I was back in your childhood bedroom, smiling at you as you poorly hid something behind your back. I glanced down at your arm, then back to your face, admiring the cheeky grin on your lips. I asked what you had, and you placed a beautiful painting of a mushroom into my hands.

“I love it,” You’d say. Perfect teeth showing and blue-green eyes disappearing behind a smile. You’d run your fingers over the design softly, the pads of your fingers tracing the grooves. “Thank you.”

I’d nod, then step back slightly, putting my hands back into my jacket pockets. I’d look at you with uncertainty as I contemplated if I should say the next thing on my mind. Then, in a moment of bravery, I’d look down, and with a deep inhale, I’d open my mouth.

“I um… I need to say this,” I’d begin, then look back up into your eyes. My heart would pound in my chest, my stomach turning as I’d take another shaky breath, holding back tears. “I know I’ve said it before, and you didn’t say it back, but I love you.”

Those three words would hang in the air heavily, which would seem warmer now, and neither of us would speak for a moment. Your lips would part slightly, softly sucking air into your lungs. Panic would creep up my chest, getting caught in my throat. But I’d be in too deep already, and continue.

“Every time I think I’m over you, I find myself missing you again. The only face I see when I close my eyes is yours, and not talking to you is killing me-” My voice would crack as I spoke the last few words, but I’d continue nonetheless. “I don’t care about the distance anymore. You’re the only person I want, and I’d give anything to be with you. And if you truly don’t love me back, I’ll find a way to get over you, because not having you in my life is killing me. I love you so completely, and I know that’s scary for you, believe me, I’m terrified of what you’re thinking right now, but I’m begging you. If you love me too, please don’t run from this. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make things work.”

Hot tears would be freely spilling down my cheeks at this point, contrasting the frigid air. I’d take a shaky breath, the hot air fogging in the cold. I’d hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, drowning out the noise of the city. Looking down at my coffee cup, I’d sniffle as I await your response. The tip of my nose would be numb and bright red, almost shining. Those few seconds would pass by like hours, and eventually, you’d step forward, shortening the gap between us. Frightened, I’d close my eyes, inhaling sharply, the icy air burning my throat as it entered my lungs.

I’d hear you place your mug on the bench behind me, then I’d feel your warm hands reach up and wipe the tears from my cheeks, cradling my face gently. I’d slowly open my eyes to look at you, scanning your features. You’d be crying too, and guilt would gnaw at my insides for causing it.

But then you’d lean forward and kiss me sweetly, closing your eyes and holding me like I was the most precious thing you’d ever touched. After a moment of shock, I’d close my eyes too, putting my cup beside yours before wrapping my arms around your waist. I’d hold you tight, afraid you’d vanish, as the gnawing in my stomach gave way to butterflies.

Eventually, we’d both pull away, catching our breaths, foreheads pressed together. I’d open my eyes, and you would too. Tears would glide down your cheeks, and I’d reach up with one hand to wipe them away. You’d smile and laugh softly. Your cold hands would feel soft on my flushed cheeks, then you would be the one to break the silence between us.

“I love you too,” you’d say, barely a whisper. Your voice would shake, but your sureness would be evident in your intense, loving gaze. Your thumb would graze my cheekbone as you finally looked me in the eye.

I’d stare, lips parted softly as I process your words. My heart pounding in my chest, I’d breathe in and out shakily. The corners of my lips would curl up into a soft smile, bearing my crooked teeth, and with furrowed brows, I’d lean in and kiss you again, more tears spilling down my cheeks. You’d kiss me back, and the world around us would keep moving, indifferent to the moment we’d just shared. Chatter would return to the city, and soft, plucked notes on guitar would fill the air.

But for now, as I lay in bed and put this fantasy onto a page, it remains just that. Fiction. And while I hope that one day that will no longer be true, I’ll forever be grateful to you. Grateful for the months we shared, and grateful that I got to be a character in your book, even if just for a chapter. And even if I was only a chapter of your book, your name has been written on every single page of mine since I met you. And I know that as I continue to write, your name will stay. Whether it remains only as a memory, or as the one who stays by my side, shaping every chapter that follows. That’s something that only time will tell.

[the-world-is-spinning-round]

Sympathy For The Devil - Remington Leith fan fiction (Spooktober Writing Challenge)

Despite the sun having long set, Remington remained in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

There was no point in getting up; he had nothing to do, nowhere to go, no-one to see. Being immortal took a lot of the urgency out of life: when Remington had been alive, he had always been in a rush to go somewhere or experience something to meet someone, but now he was dead…what was the point? It wasn’t like he was ever going to run out of time.

Sighing, Remington rolled over and buried his face in his pillows.

He was tired, and even though he’d just woken up, he already wanted nothing more than just to go back to sleep.

It was unfortunate that vampires couldn’t sleep while the sun was down. And it was just as unfortunate that his brothers were equally aware of that fact as Remington was.

A moment later, Sebastian strode into Remington’s room, glaring disapprovingly at Remington where he was still in bed:

“Were you planning on getting out of bed today?” he asked critically: “We have the new staff coming in less than an hour.”

Remington sighed again.

He had forgotten about the new staff coming to work in the house today. Sebastian had discussed it with him, but time was an unfathomable concept to Remington at the moment, and he would be hard pushed to say if that discussion had been two days ago or two months ago.

Sebastian wouldn’t understand that, though. He didn’t understand anything about how Remington felt at the moment, couldn’t see how immortality that left Remington tired and numb. He always wanted Remington to get up and do things, meet people, make the most of his vampiric after-life - and there was no point fighting him on it.

Remington pulled himself up and staggered out of bed, raising an eyebrow at Sebastian: “Happy now?”

“I’ll be happy when you put some clothes on.” Sebastian rolled his eyes: “Get dressed. We have to pretend to be human, at least for a little bit.”

He turned on his heel and left, leaving Remington alone to find an outfit that would project ‘wealthy and self-absorbed mysterious young man’, but not require too much effort to get into.

He got as far as pulling on the trousers when he was interrupted by one of the windows on the far side of his room sliding open.

Turning, he saw one leg slide through the now open window, then a torso, before the intruder straightened as they finished climbing inside and closed the window behind them, revealing them to be a young woman dressed in a simple dark blue dress and clean white apron, with her hair pinned up in a tidy bun on top of her head. She took a deep breath, before sighing in what sounded like…relief?

Remington knew he should be annoyed…but instead he was just vaguely interested in who this young woman breaking into his room was, and why she was relieved to be here.

“Was there a reason you’re breaking into my bedroom?” he asked, when it looked like the woman was ready to turn around.

And turn around she did, when she heard his voice, blushing deeply and stuttering from nerves: “Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I thought there was no-one in here, ‘cause it was dark and all.”

It was dark because, with their eyesight, Remington and his brothers didn’t need lights to see, even at night…but he could see why the human would think a dark room would mean an empty room: “So, why are you breaking into empty rooms, then?”

The blush, somehow, managed to burn on her cheeks and even brighter red.

For a vampire, it was an intriguing sight.

For the part of Remington that was still human, it was actually quite charming.

“I, um, was hoping to hide out for a while, and then leave.” the woman admitted: “My parents brought me here to work, but…I don’t want to be a maid.”

Remington nodded; he understood wanting to hide away from things you didn’t want to do, sometimes it was the easiest way to keep yourself from being miserable: “Makes sense.”

“Really?” the woman asked, raising an eyebrow at Remington suspiciously. Which also made sense; Remington would also be suspicious of someone agreeing that breaking into a house to hide from something you didn’t want to do, if he wasn’t so…jaded.

As it was, he merely shrugged and decided to just be honest…at least as much as he could be: “I was also trying to hide up here. Unfortunately, my brother found me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the woman replied, sounding genuinely sympathetic.

It made a nice change.

Remington was used to “tough love” or placation or well-meaning advice - none of his friends truly understood how he was feeling, and none of them really tried to commiserate with him about it. They loved him, and they wanted the best for him, he knew that, but…it made a nice change to hear something that sounded so honestly sympathetic to his situation.

Nice enough that, for the first time in what felt like a long, long time Remington felt like he actually wanted to do something.

And that something was run away.

Specifically with this woman.

He couldn’t explain why - it was an impulsive and potentially idiotic decision, but for some reason it just felt right.

“What’s your name?” Remington asked her.

The woman seemed a little thrown by the sudden change in subject, but not upset: “Rose.”

“Thank you, Rose; you’re the first person to be honestly sympathetic to me.” Remington explained: “Which is why I was wondering…do you want to get out of here together?”

“I don’t even know your name.” Rose protested…but Remington could see that she was tempted.

“I’m Remington - I believe the brother who disrupted my plan to hide in here is the same man who wanted you to arrive here as a maid, and honestly? I think we should both tell him to shove his ideas, and leave.”

Rose frowned for a few seconds, obviously considering her situation and the options open to her.

Remington didn’t push: didn’t try and force her to make any moves that she didn’t actually want to make - but he couldn’t deny that with each passing second, his anxiety was growing. He hadn’t thought about how he might feel if she turned him down; he’d been so caught up in the sudden feeling of feeling something again that he’d acted on pure impulse, but now the numbness was creeping in again as he started to think about what would happen if Rose didn’t want to leave with him.

Please don’t reject me.

Finally, though, Rose picked up a clean shirt thrown over the chair next to the window, and slung it in Remington’s direction: “I know we don’t know each other, but I am not the kind of woman to run off with a half-dressed man. Once you’re presentable though…”

Remington grinned.

Twenty minutes later, he and Rose had snuck out of the house into the stables, made quick work of stealing one of Sebastian’s horses, and were riding out into the forest together.

And Remington was still smiling.

[feralandmoonstruck]

Bread

DNI IF UNDER 18

Thanks @adie-dee for the prompt! Hope you enjoy your bread as much as they did!

WC: 674

“Fi,” Leith exclaimed as he opened the door. “To what do I owe this pleasure? I thought for certain that Viorel would be monopolizing all your time today.”

Fiora grinned. “Lucky me, he got called away for a while, which means I was able to sneak down to the kitchens and make this,” she produced a small parcel wrapped in cloth from behind her back.

“Ooh, what is it,” he asked as he took the package from her. “Oh! It’s warm! And smells delicious. Fiora, what did you make me?” He batted his eyelashes at her and let her into his room.

“It’s a hazelnut spent grain bread from the last batch of beer the kitchens finished this morning, and I’ve also managed to whip up a juniper and fig compote.” She reached into her pocket and produced a small glass jar.

Leith gasped. “Fiora you shouldn’t have! How did you manage all this? And what will my brothers say when they find out you’re absolutely spoiling me?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Well, Marceline was making the bread anyway, so it wasn’t too much to talk her out of a loaf.”

“I’m shocked you managed to talk Marceline out of anything. I’ve heard the horror stories, you know. What sort of dark sacrifice did you have to make?”

Fiora laughed. “She’s not unreasonable. I let her try a few small batches of compound butter I’ve made and she enjoyed most of them. She’s even added a few to her book.”

Leith stared at her with wide eyes. “I do believe that’s the most impressive thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You need to get out more then,” she couldn’t keep the laughter from her voice. “You should try it before it cools too much.”

“Do you also have a bread knife secreted away in your pockets?”

“I think we’re all well aware that they don’t let me take knives out of any room I’m in. Especially not the kitchen. The bread is already sliced.”

“We can’t have you stabbing people, you know.” Leith straightened and raised his chin to look down his nose at her.

“You smash your face into a wall once, and nobody wants to trust you again.” Fiora shook her head.

“A shame, truly.” They sat down at the table Leith kept near the window of his sitting room. “If you weren’t able to secret a knife out of the kitchens in your pocket, how do you propose we spread the jam?”

Fiora blinked, “I hadn’t actually considered that.”

“No matter, we will make do.” Leith leapt from his seat and disappeared into his study, only to return a moment later brandishing his letter opener.

“A letter opener? Really?”

“My dearest Fi, we must all make sacrifices in times of scarcity. We are scarce on butter knives, and so a letter opener must do.” He sat down and unwrapped the bread loaf with deft fingers. Fiora unscrewed the lid from the jar of compote and set it on the table between them. Leith took a moment to breathe in the rich, nutty aroma of the bread before selecting two slices and slathering them generously.

“And now,” he said, handing one slice to Fiora, “we feast.”

They bit into their treats. Leith’s eyes fell closed as he leaned back in his chair and moaned. Fiora’s lips curled up at the corners as she watched him. The way he felt every emotion with his whole body never ceased to amaze her. He kicked his feet and wriggled, his face scrunching up in delight as he swallowed.

“Fiora dear, we’ll have to break the news to my brothers, because I’m marrying you. I’ll go tell the royal officiant, you go to the seamstress and tell her we’ll need two of her finest gowns. We’ll be married by dawn.”

“I take it you like the bread then?”

“It’s delicious! Be sure to send my regards to Marceline, and have this added to my luncheon tea for the week.”

Fiora smiled, “I’ll pass the message along.”

[descentintobandom]

Coming Out

Title: Coming Out Chapter: One-Shot Pairing: No Pairing Rating: T Fic Summary: The boys’ sister finally comes out to them. Author’s Notes: Requested by anon. I actually really loved this! All requests are now complete!

If there was one thing Tara Kropp knew, it was that she definitely not straight. She’d known for a while now.

All the members of bands that her brother’s had toured around with had never turned her head. Remington, Emerson, and Sebastian had set her up on countless dates with other band members and every single one had ended with her confessing that she wasn’t into men. So the majority of the rock and pop-punk scene knew that she was a lesbian.

Yet, she still hadn’t confided in her brothers. Hell, she couldn’t even tell her twin Remington. She kept her secret close to her chest.

But that was going to change this tour.

Right now, she was standing with her twin’s girlfriend, Monica, while her brothers did their meet and greet.

Tara casually watched her brothers while talking to Monica, until her gaze fell on a gorgeous girl.

“Tara?” Monica asked. Monica followed Tara’s gaze.

It was on a tiny brunette up next in line.

“Do you like her?”

Tara blushed furiously. “What? No!”

“Tara, it’s okay. Do your brothers know?”

Tara sighed. “No. I haven’t told them.”

“Are you scared of them turning you away? Because you know they never would.”

“I know that! I’m just…nervous. I’ve never even kissed a girl.”

Monica giggled. “I’m sure it’s no different than kissing a guy.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “You don’t get it. Girls…girls are different. They’re soft and gentle.” Tara dreamed of running her hands over another girl’s breasts and hips.

“Down girl,” Monica said. She could see the thoughts running through Tara’s mind. Tara needed to tell her brothers and Monica knew exactly how to get her to do it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Being on tour bus with a bunch of males usually led to a drunken game of truth or dare.

“Monica, truth or dare,” Emerson said.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss someone on this bus.”

Remington smirked, obviously assuming that his girlfriend was going to kiss him.

But everyone was shocked when Monica turned her head and kissed Tara.

Tara froze for a moment before she closed her eyes and kissed back. Her hands slid up Monica’s sides and buried themselves in her hair. Tara whimpered when Monica’s tongue licked at her bottom lip.

Tara wanted to feel guilty about kissing her twin’s girlfriend, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She was enjoying this too much.

When Monica pulled away, Tara followed her.

When she opened her eyes, she realized that everyone was staring her with wide eyes. Her hand covered her mouth as tears filled her eyes.

“Tara…” Monica said.

“Don’t touch me!” Tara got up and fled into the bunk room.

“Tara! I’m sorry!”

Everyone looked at Monica.

“I…I thought I was helping.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, Tara slid out her bunk. She hadn’t slept all that well. She had decided last night that she was going to call their mother and go home to L.A.

“I think we need to talk,” Remington said from the couch.

“There’s nothing to talk about. Your girlfriend kissed me.”

“Why won’t you talk to me! You’re my other half, Tea. Something’s going on.”

“I…I like girls, Remi.” Tara’s heart felt like it’s going to beat out of her chest. “Please say something,” she breathed.

“What am I supposed to say? Am I supposed to tell you to leave? I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Remington…”

“I told you. You’re my other half. The better half of me even. So what if you’re into girls? We’re not going to turn you away.” Remington wrapped his arms around his twin.

“What’s going on? Are we missing out on a group hug?” Emerson joked.

“You wanna tell them? Or shall I?” Remington asked her.

“Tell us what?” Sebastian asked.

“I’m a lesbian.”

“Oh thank god. I thought you were going tell us you were dying or something.”

“At least we don’t have to worry about some random guy knocking you up,” Emerson said.

Tara rolled her eyes. “You could take this a little more seriously, you know?”

Remington winked. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

[arcxnumvitae]

#Eilidh's probably going to try to round up folks for ice skating

"Eilidh, love, dear, sweetheart, while I appreciate the enthusiasm." Ruaidhri glanced out at the expanse of water before them. 'Water' being the key word. "But in order to ice skate, you first need ice. A frozen lake. This lake is not frozen."

"We could go swimming if you all do not mind the cold!" Beside him, Leithe (who was not invited but tagged along with her fiancé) grimaced at the suggestion.

"Icicles may actually form on us if we were to try that, dear."

"Nonbelievers, the lot of you. Look, here approaches our solution right now!"

"Eilidh, you called for me? What..." He stopped upon noting the small gathered crowd. "Um, what is this about?"

[lance-kitkat]

Lance came home after a long day of work, doing his job as CEO by going to meetings, making sure all the paperwork was in order, making a business deal with a client, then going through the bi-weekly meeting with the management departments of all the sectors. He then had to deal with a issue that HR brought up to him, dealing with issues over some of his employers.

By the time everything was put into order and resolved, it was already dark outside, and it was snowing again, adding more to the blanket of white on the ground. Groaning, he grudgingly walked to his car and drove home slowly, wanting to just rest up and crash down onto his bed.

When the familiar gate of his house came within view, he pressed the button on the gate’s control to open up before parking it in the garage, noting to call over his maintenance crew to shovel the driveway again. Otherwise it would have been a repeat of Keith doing it himself and then getting himself sick, which spread to his boyfriend. And it was not fun having to go to a grand opening of his new business line sick. He still refuses to look at the photos, and still is trying to find a way to get it off Pidge’s phone.

When he finally got out of his car, trying to milk the remains of the car’s heat, Lance shivered and ran as quick as he could to the front door without slipping and falling face first to the ground, bouncing on the soles of his feet and struggling a little to open up the door. 

As soon as it opened, Lance sighed in relief as his home blocked out the cold, already warming him slightly. Setting his coat and tie on the hooks by the door, before walking into the living room. The quiet sound of the TV was playing, and when he peeked his head inside, blankets and pillows were strewn across the floor, and in the middle of it was a familiar mullet sleepily staring at the screen, wearing Lance’s warmest pj’s (fuzzy socks included).

Lance couldn’t help but chuckle as he took off his shoes and crawled into the blanket pile and held onto Keith, who instinctively laid his head onto his shoulder and murmured, “Hey Lance.” “Hey there sleepy head, have you been staying up for me?”

“Yea... It was too boring upstairs and I wanted to wait up for you.”

“What about the blanket fort, Kitten?”

“It helped me past the time and at least this way you would get warmer sooner... It was snowing all day.”

Keith yawned again and rubbed at his eyes, before just flopping down on the big pile, pulling Lance in with him. Said man yelped a little when he was being pulled in, before smiling warmly and held him close. The pair instinctively curled up to each other, with Lance humming into Keith’s ear, watching as his boyfriend slowly fell asleep in his arms.

He clung onto his work jacket when he pulled away slightly to turn off the TV, only relaxing again when he was back into Lance’s arms. Pulling one of the blankets over them, and patting the head of their cats, he kissed Keith’s forehead before falling asleep as well.

[defiledtomb]

Debated on asking this as an anon or not, but it's technically a saucy question, so.... anonymous it is!

ROs reaction to accidentally making MC moan? The two weren't even doing anything spicy, they just crashed into one another, got tangled, and RO made a move to get up that "awoke" something in MC?

OR, in Id's case, accidentally made MC moan when they were manhandling them back to the hedge...

Mmm... I like this. I have jotted it down as a prompt, see if it won't make it into a drabble if not Ouroboros proper. *smug face*

Quick gif-reactions from the RO's accidentally making the mc moan, awakening something in them:

Yor/Yana (after MC leaves):

Auryn: (will go out of their way to make it happen again after that.)

Sene/Selene: (*files the information abt how to make the MC moan away for later*)

Leith/Custom, after dragging MC somewhere they can be alone, or not seen:

Idren/Ida locking themselves in their quarters just daydreaming for hours and hours about just pulling that sound out of MC again, being able to touch them, feel them:

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Do you think you it would be ok to ask you for a drabble with Jason based on the Leith Ross lyrics “if I said you can never touch me you’d come over and say I looked lovely”? I’m not ace, just traumatized (totally understand if this is like uncomfortable or something, I love your fics btw!!)

Ari Note: I tried, hope this works.

Jason could see the light of your bedroom window and winced. It was late. Too late for you to still be awake. But- since he was in the neighborhood-

He picked up a tiny handful of gravel and smiled to himself. Sure- he couldn't touch you- not without causing you incredible pain, at least- at least until- well. He didn't want to think about that. Not really. That still hurt. But- everyone deserved to be told they were pretty. You especially. So he pitched the first pebble. It landed with a soft tap.

The second, a soft tap and the movement of a shadow on the wall.

The Third and your face in the window, making him wave. Wiggling his fingers.

And when you opened the window, he climbed up the fire escape. "What are you doing, Jay?"

"It was a nice night for a run-"

"I can't-"

"I don't want to come in," he said softly. "I just- just wanted to remind you that you're beautiful."

"Thank you," you answer, looking away.

"And I wanted- This is for you," he said, holding out a journal from his pocket.

You take it from him, careful not to touch his skin, "What is it?"

"Letters," he said coughing slightly, embarrassed. "I- it was lonely while you were gone."

"Jay-"

"I know," he said softly. "I'm just sorry I didn't find you in time."

[deadboyfriendd]

Eddie Munson.

Volare | Remastered

String Lights

Headliners.

Kate.

She Makes Dirty Words Sound Pretty

The Girls in the Band

Sockpuppet

Video Girl.

Cochise

Steve Harrington.

Hallmark

Stains in the Granite

Stone Gothic

Bisbee

All That Glitters

Drabbles.

Eddie's Bed

Holding Eddie's Hand

This Machine Slays Dragons

Laugh Tracks

Like Ice.

Filthy

Cast Iron

All Day

Brave

Suspended

Mele Kalikimaka

Time Traveler!Reader.

TT! x Eddie Headcanons

The Flea and The Acrobat

Enchanted

Headcanons.

Eddie Headcanons

Eddie's Passenger Princess

Three Raccoons in a Trenchcoat

Three Raccoons in a Trenchcoat ii

Social Skills

Music Notes.

Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge

Constant Headache - Joyce Manor

Like We'll Never Have Sex - Leith Ross

Events.

The Science Fiction Double Feature

[twittytelly]

What I Read In 2022: February

Masterlist

Please read all authors’ warnings before reading these fics (especially if you are a minor), YOU are responsible for the media that YOU consume.

What I Reblogged:

Wrapped Up In You by @needleandhammer​

Higher Love Masterlist by @k-evans-reads / @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

Cosy Curtis Drabble by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Drabble: Web Site?! by @theycallmebecca

Sports Bra Predicaments by @demonpoxballad

hoodie by @rodrikstark

One in a trillion by @softlybarnes

Sunshine on Leith by @katiew1973

I Can Fix That by @pagesoflauren

Look After You by @pagesoflauren​

Good Try by @worksby-d

why should i be sad by @bluemoon-fever

I love watching you, baby by @worksby-d

Drabble: On the Bench by @theycallmebecca

In Bloom by @whisperlullaby

Your Touch by @fangirlovestuff

Grief by @wayward-blonde

Fixer Upper: F*ck Him by @secretswiftymarvelfan

Ongoing Series

Higher Love Extras by @k-evans-reads

The Outsider by @k-evans-reads

On Deck by @k-evans-reads

Wooden Façade by @pagesoflauren

Seeing Blind by @pagesoflauren

The Riveter by @pagesoflauren

The Merchant's Daughter by @themerchantsdaughter-fic / @pagesoflauren (formerly Promise and Sacrifice)

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It by @wiypt-writes and @icanfeelastormbrewing

Rock ‘n’ Roll People In A Disco World by @wiypt-writes

Rawhide by @wiypt-writes