#10 fic game

[lunapwrites]

rules: pick any 10 of your fics, scroll somewhere to the mid point, pick a line, and share it! then tag 10 people.

Thank you to @spindrifters for the tag!

Applied Theory

Remus briefly debated the merits of burying his best mate in his own backyard. Maybe beneath the tree; he'd probably get a kick out of that. Probably make a joke about permanent wood or something equally crass, which honestly would just set Remus to giggling like one of his third years and he'd never get the job done. He'd keep dropping the shovel.

Where the Wild Thyme Grows

Its voice was strange, like bells dragged over gravel, chiming and rasping all at once. It choked words like a curse. It pulled Harry closer as if to punctuate its point, the vines tightening, and Harry let out a hiss of pain, blood trickling down his face, from his nose and mouth.

Louder Than Love*

Twenty-one was a good year for whisky but a bad year for his mental health. It was twelve backwards. It was apropos and terrible and he’d wanted to spend hours drowning himself in it, mapping out the symbolism on the bathroom tile so he didn��t have space in his head to worry about whether or not this was the time Remus didn’t come home.

Ouroboros

“I’m gonna wind up killing him before his lungs do, fucksake,” Remus groused to himself. He was leaning out the attic window, waiting for moonrise with a cigarette jammed firmly between his teeth, and he was certainly not going to call Sirius.

three knocks upon the door

The whole universe tipped on its axis, a top hitting a knot on the table where it sat spinning. An eldritch light shone in Lily’s eyes for the span of a heartbeat, match strike bright and hungry, and in that moment Tonks understood that Lily could swallow her like shadows if she let her, knew it like she knew her own name.

Numb (Phobos I)

"You know, as pleased as I am that you've stopped throwing tantrums over the food," Peter mused through a mouthful of toast, "I'm genuinely surprised you haven't asked me why I did it."

Monster (Io I)

Despite what society would have them all think, Remus was no monster. He took his toast with raspberry jam and wore mismatched socks on purpose and named the spiders in his bedroom window.

for him.

"Sounds to me like you've identified your problem," Remus replied lightly. Harry's glare deepened, and Remus laughed outright. "Look, I learned very early on never to assume with you, as you have a knack for surprising me, and then getting very insulted when I expect you to be —God forbid— a teenager."

The Great Biscuit Calamity of 1978, and Other Such Disasters

“Social commentary vis-à-vis a subtle subversion of gender roles in biscuit decorations. Bold. Stunning. I love it.”

A Matter of Interpretation

The idea of living in a world without Remus -- whether because Snape had finally grassed him (because apparently baby Death Eaters are fine but werewolves who get too stoned and cry over Dark Side of the Moon are not ), or because Remus managed to literally kill the greasy git (which was Understandable and Reasonable but also would likely result in his arrest) -- was Anathema to Sirius. Positively Unacceptable.

I always feel like an awkward bean about tagging, soooo if you see this and want to play, go for it! <3

[dapper-lil-arts]

You should read The Princess and the Peasant it's really good lol

[stevebabey]

Dustin denotes his plan as a stroke of genius. Steve calls it fucking crazy.

It is crazy — going down to the police station and giving a completely faux alibi for Eddie is crazy.

But then, Steve recalls the handcuffs on the hospital bed, keeping him strapped in even though Eddie’s hardly in a state for escape, all bandages and wires. Steve remembers the fitful sleeps he’s witnessed when visiting, remembers Eddie’s ashamed whisper of fear that one of the officers would smother him in his sleep if no one stayed with him.

Steve remembers the bats. Remembers all the other shit Eddie got dragged through.

And if Steve can lessen that blow… well, then maybe he is crazy for going through with the plan.

There’s no prepping Eddie for it, of course, considering he’s being guarded around the clock. Steve thinks it’s ridiculous considering how feeble he feels just looking at Eddie. When he— when they had gotten him out, there was a moment where he was more blood than boy. Just jagged skin held together by Steve’s hands and sheer will.

He shivers involuntarily. This is crazy, Steve thinks, shifting a bit in the chair out the front of Eddie’s room, waiting for the discussion across the hall to meet its end. It’s crazy, but he’s already done it now.

Sharp footsteps sound across the hallway and Steve’s head yanks up. His heart beats too fast and he presses his palms down into his jeans to wipe them, standing up quickly.

“So?” He asks, eyes darting between Chief Powell and Deputy Callahan.

“That’s quite the alibi you’ve provided, Mr Harrington.” There’s a cool expression on Chief Powell’s face, giving away nothing. “One that not many would be so willing to give.”

Steve swallows. Presses down the panic tied to the implications of what he’s told them— him and Eddie. Him and Eddie together.

“We’d like to question Mr Munson a little as well, get everything settled. You know,” He makes a little gesture with his hand. “Make sure your stories line up.”

A new strain of panic jolts in Steve’s stomach and he hopes it doesn’t show on his face. Glancing over his shoulder, he peers between the blinds and tries to find Eddie’s face. He can only see the hospital bed, stark white sheets and hundreds of tubes. Steve tries to remember that he anticipated this, he prepared for this.

“Now?” He asks, turning back to face the officers. He tries to appear like his uneasiness comes from concern, instead of panic. “He’s just had another dose of morphine, I’m not sure how up to questions he’ll be.”

Chief Powell narrows his eyes. Steve silently begs him to take the bait — he doesn’t want to defer the questioning, he just needs a little more wiggle room in case Eddie is slow on the uptake. He’s a performer though. Steve hopes that’ll be enough to convince them.

“Now is best.”

Steve nods, his face grave. “I understand. Just… if he’s a bit slow, give him time to find his answers. He doesn’t know that I’ve… told you.”

Steve’s hand presses down on the handle to the room and the door opens with a hiss. He enters the room, his eyes landing on the officer posted by the door first before they travel onto the bed, to Eddie.

The chair beside the bed is empty for now which means Wayne must be off getting some food. Good, Steve thinks. This will be easiest with a smaller audience to convince.

Eddie’s eyes are closed, resting as best he can, but at the new noise they peek open. The ripple of happy emotion will help their case immensely but Steve delights in the fact that that reaction is genuine. Eddie is happy to see him.

“Big boy!” He rasps as a greeting. He waves one hand up, wires sticking out of it and the handcuff on it clinks uncomfortably, and he begins a spiel. “Welcome back to my humble—”

He cuts himself off when he sees there are other visitors today besides Steve. The heart monitor jumps and Eddie’s hand drops, eyes back onto Steve in an instant.

“What’s going on?”

Steve strides to his side, his hand reaching out to curl his fingers around Eddie’s limp hand. His skin is cool to touch, fingers icy. Surprise jumps onto Eddie’s face but his fingers tighten their grip, holding his hand too. Steve sits down in the seat beside the bed and lets the real nerves of the situation make his voice tremble when he speaks.

“I— I had to tell them, Eddie. About your real alibi.”

To his credit, Eddie only lets confusion wash over his face for a moment before it turns to some mixture of anger and sadness. A furrow forms between his brows, his grip on Steve’s hand tightening, and Steve doesn’t think he’s acting at all when he says, “You didn’t.”

Huh. Maybe he’s figured it out after all, Steve thinks.

Steve nods solemnly, letting his thumb wander over the back of Eddie’s hand. He remembers what it’s like to dote on girls, on Nancy, and find it’s not nearly as hard to bring it all out for Eddie either.

“I had to,” He murmurs, reaching a hand out to brush back some of Eddie’s hair. The heart monitor spikes again and Eddie’s cheeks glow pink.

Behind them, Chief Powell clears his throat and Steve jumps, remembering himself and what he’s trying to accomplish here.

“Excuse us, Mr. Munson, we have a few questions for you.”

There’s a moment where they let their words register and Eddie takes a deep breath, squeezing Steve’s hand and giving a little nod. Chief Powell continues.

“Mr. Harrington here has come forward with a statement that would place you elsewhere than the scene of the crime at the time of Miss Cunningham’s murder. Can you recall where you were that night?”

The mention of Chrissy’s name makes Eddie flinch and Steve’s glad he’s already holding his hand so he can squeeze it gently. Eddie’s gaze drops to their intertwined hands and stares hard for a moment. Shuffling puzzle pieces into place.

Steve leans down, presses a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles, and says “Tell them the truth.”

Eddie inhales sharply, steeling his nerves and turns his attention back to the officers. “I was with Steve. We were… we were at his house.”

Chief Powell nods, scratching words down in his notepad. He hums in a way that tells Eddie to keep going.

“We were…” Eddie trails off and looks to Steve, trying to follow the story already planted. Steve nods, hoping it comes off like he’s trying to be comforting boyfriend, instead of a subtle nudge.

“…Kissing.”

Steve resists the urge to snort at the absurdity of the whole situation. This whole thing is so convoluted and it’s twisted that Eddie’s even been accused but Steve’s putting his fuckin’ reputation on the line and Eddie says they’ve been kissing?

He doesn’t even need to turn around to know some eyebrows have raised behind him.

“Kissing?” Steve hears Chief Powell repeat. “Just… kissing?”

Eddie’s attention snaps forward again and Steve can see him piece together the snappy persona, the Freak, the scary dog privileges that come with being an outsider. He straightens up a bit, shoulders squaring but Steve can feel the quake in his hand.

“I’m sorry, did you want a play by play of the whole act, Chief Powell? I can go into detail if you want, who took who’s pants off first, yanno, but I didn’t peg you for that kinda guy.”

Steve can’t miss this reaction, turning his head to watch both officers shuffle uncomfortably on the spot. Chief Powell tries to keep his power, eyes narrowing, but it’s hard to maintain when Steve dots another quick kiss across Eddie’s knuckle.

“Very well.” He seems to land on. “We’ll be back to collect a formal statement later—”

Eddie gives a faint squeak, his hand grasping Steves that much tighter.

“—but I’m happy to have the guard and cuffs removed from your room for now.”

A sigh so large escapes Eddie that his chest deflates a good couple inches and Steve feels his own shoulders relax a bit. Chief Powell steps forward, key retrieved from his belt and Steve winces seeing the ring of irritated skin around Eddie’s wrist. No doubt caused from the thrashing of night terrors.

He releases Eddie’s hand long enough for it to be freed, scooping it back up in his as soon as he can, properly this time. All fingers intertwined, palm to palm. Eddie eyes their hands again and Steve pretends to not hear the jump in the heart monitor.

The officers leave, including the one holding post, the door sliding shut with a gentle click and Steve holds himself still— unsure of how to start explaining what he had sprung on Eddie. He feels bad, dropping him in the deep end, even if it was for his own good.

“Eddie—” He starts.

“Hug me.” Eddie hisses out the corner of his mouth. When Steve doesn’t react, he says it again, fiercer - it doesn’t match the way he’s smiling so sweetly at Steve. “Hug. Me.”

Steve does as he’s told, shooting up onto his feet and hesitating only for a moment before Eddie’s arms are creeping around his waist — he leans over and tries to keep his weight off him. Eddie’s frazzled curls tickle at his cheek and Steve just burrows his face in further.

There’s a faint whisper into his ear. “They were watching still.”

Steve pulls back a bit, not to check over his shoulder, but to see Eddie’s face. He’s serious, eyes skirting the window behind them but the moment Steve pulls back, his eyes shift down and he softens.

“And now… kiss me too?” He says. His tone conveys that he knows he’s being far too cheeky. Steve’s wonders if the officers are still watching. Wonders if he’d still kiss him even if they weren’t. He casts a glance over his shoulder and is met with a empty window, the officers retreating down the hall.

He turns back to Eddie with an incredulous expression. “What? Getting you off murder charges not good enough for you?”

Eddie’s face shutters for a moment, as though every emotion to do with Steve’s sacrifice floods him at once. There’s a burst of gratitude when he doesn’t mention it — doesn’t mention everything Steve might be giving up for Eddie, everything that might crumble should the details of the case become public.

He chooses the joke again. Eddie always does.

“Yes, but remember, we’re madly in love,” Eddie sings, brows wiggling about on his face and making Steve snort. “So feel free to kiss me anytime you feel like it.”

Steve snorts. “Duly noted, Munson.”

Eddie throws his head back softly against his pillow and pretends to wail in pain. “Munson? That’s all I am to you? That’s how you treat your boyfriend?”

Steve can’t help but grin a little at the theatrics and finds himself thinking that of all the people to be stuck pretending he’s dating, at least with Eddie, it’ll be enjoyable. Well, at least interesting. It will certainly be an experience.

“You have no idea how I treat my boyfriends, baby.” Steve says, voice low, just to see if he can get Eddie’s heart monitor to jump again. It does, a steady beeping as the BPM climbs up a few numbers.

Steve can feel the blush on Eddie’s cheeks, he’s so close, and it’s so nice to see colour on his face — such a stark comparison to the paleness of- well, of older memories.

Steve grins. Despite every nerve that feels singed beneath his skin, overworked from all his anxiety — despite considering every potential backlash that faces both them outside this room, outside the hospital, Steve searches within himself.

He can’t find one single ounce of regret.

next part.

[bubblingsteam]

[sitp-recs]

top 10 funniest drarry fics that aren't crackfics?

Oh I don’t usually go for crackfic so this is the perfect ask, thank you 😊 I LOVE all these:

Bite Me, Hate Memes by pir8fancier

Knot Your Average Coworkers by thecouchsofa

Little Red Courgette by blamebrampton

More Than That by joosetta

Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu

Slithering by astolat

Stand Back: I'm About to Perform Archaeology by Blowfish_Diaries

The Loathly Worm by Selden

The Pure and Simple Truth by lettered

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym

Bonus: love the subtle humor of Heartlines by iota

[kald-dal-art]

Second compilation post of my latest victor art. These are a lot fun to draw and think out so appreciate all the feedback I have gotten for this series. We'll see if I end up making all 75 Victors or not ksdjhfa

Part 1 / Ko-Fi

[myokk]

“They were once again standing on either side of the elegant stone pensieve, white-knuckled hands gripping its edges as they stared, wide-eyed, at each other. Their faces were so close together that the air Eloise breathed out was inhaled by Sebastian.

They stayed like that for seconds, minutes, hours, unable - unwilling - to break the spell.”

From chapter 11 of my fic 😇

[mail-me-a-snail]

“Don’t want the Board to watch,” Darling explains, not without an edge of embarrassment. “I mean, can you imagine if this --” he gestures to the small space between them-- “showed up on their minutes? I’d be-- mortified , is the word.” Trench stares at him. It takes him a moment to find the coherency to respond. “I’m sure,” he manages to say, “they wouldn’t mind extracurricular activities.”

a scene from my trench/darling fic, "minutes of the meeting" <3 i may not have finished the game yet but i am utterly enamored with darling and trench's dynamic of the bureau's golden child and his handler υ´• ﻌ •`υ

[bananasofthorns]

“He betrayed your trust and you aren’t more upset?" Helsknight scoffs. "Pathetic.” Wels rolls his eyes. “It’s a death game, Helsknight, that’s kind of the whole point. I should’ve seen this coming, honestly.” “You’re naive.” “Iskall’s my friend. It’s not naive to trust him.” “He broke that trust!” “Well, yes, and I plan to get him back for that someday, but also: it’s a death game. We all agreed to it. I’m not mad at him for killing me, I just wish he’d been a bit more upfront about it.” If he’d been more obvious about trying to kill Wels, then maybe Wels wouldn’t be dead, also. But Iskall’s whole goal was to kill him, so he can understand the deception. “You’re infuriating.” Wels shrugs. He generally tries not to be, but in this instance, he finds that he doesn’t mind. “Maybe so. Look, can we finish this later? I need to go get my stuff back from Iskall, and your presence would probably freak him out.”

you know when you get to that point of dealing with intrusive/self deprecating/etc thoughts that you're just like. "yeah okay. consider: you're stupid and wrong. also: go away, i'm busy"? that should be wels and hels

read on Ao3

[theminecraftbee]

minotaur Joe for the fanon swap prompts? i feel like he'd do something very philosophical and Joe(tm) about mythology. or butterfly/moth Joe?

After waking up with a headache and looking in the mirror to shave, Joe pauses. He stares at his reflection in the mirror. For the past several days, he hadn't thought anything of it; it's usual enough, for a hermit to start to get weird as the day of the start of a new project approaches. Why, if all that moon stuff hadn't happened, Joe can only imagine what growing snakes would have been like for Cleo.

He wonders if it was anything like this: Joe wakes up, stretches, hears weird clacking as he goes to the bathroom, goes to grab his razor, and rather abruptly realizes that he doesn't have a beard, or, rather, that since he now has a bull's head, he has far more beard than can possibly be reasonably shaved, and he should throw the whole concept of 'shaving a beard' out the window.

"Huh," he says. "I guess growing horns does give people a headache? Who knew?"

If his voice is wavering as he says it, well, no one's around to hear. They're between seasons, and while Joe is sharing a server with several hermits at the moment, his mountain lodge doesn't have much by way of neighbors. He's alone to have this horrible revelation.

"How will the bunny ears look with the bull head?" he asks himself. He tries to picture the result and, determining it a little less existentially terrifying than a sudden, unplanned change of species, decides to put them on. He nods. "I am a Playboy Minotaur," he mutters to himself. "I am confident! Composed! Perhaps even a sexyman? Eh, I'll workshop it. I wonder if there's better-matching armor for this..."

He hitches in his morning routine when he realizes the weird clacking he'd been hearing had been hooves. Realistically, he should now be wondering how well any of his boots will fit, now that he doesn't really have toes, and if he needs to be shoed, like a horse might, to protect the hooves from damage instead. Realistically, he should be contacting Iskall about whatever modifications need to be made for the remainder of his time hunting vaults before season 10 starts. Realistically, he should be hunting down one of the less-human hermits and asking if eating burgers to gain levels is now cannibalism. All of these things are realistic concerns that he can bother people about right now, if he wants to!

Unrealistically, he's thinking more about a conversation he'd had with Cub the other day as he stares at his hooves, hands shaking far, far more than he'd care to admit.

They'd been arguing about who Daedalus was.

It had started when they started planning together. Joe had mentioned wanting to build a labyrinth a little bit ago, and Cub, who apparently loved building mazes, was going to help out with the planning. With any luck, all of the hermits were going to help build it! He'd rambled about giving himself a bit of themeing about Theseus as a result, about conquering this whole labyrinth build, this project he'd designed not to really have an end. About having to guide himself in and out through twisting tunnels.

Cub had then pointed out that if Joe had been building it, that technically makes him Daedalus; the one guy who knew the layout, the genius inventor building the trap for the server, designing its hallways. Joe had argued that was who Cub would be; Cub is the expert madman inventor being brought on, and Joe just like, wanted to build a maze. Cub had said that that sort of made Joe Minos then, but given season seven, the guy who once got cursed to turn everything he touched to gold didn't feel very fitting. Joe had agreed it hadn't fit. Maybe they'd split Daedalus then, if Theseus was a little too thematically muddled?

They'd laughed about it. Joe hadn't really intended for the maze to be based on myth, anyway. That would be stealing Cleo's bit, and he knows better than to do that.

And yet.

"We didn't consider I might be the Minotaur," Joe says to no one in particular. "You know. Of the figures associated with the Labyrinth, we didn't consider the big bull trapped in the middle. I should tell Cub we forgot about that one. It'll be a real laugh."

He can't quite say out loud the thing he's really thinking, which is this:

Well, if the universe has decided the guy with the maze won't be the hero, or the inventor, or the king, but the bull it was designed to trap--well. What's that say about him, exactly, in symbology?

"Maybe it's just in reference to the vaults," he says, trying to hype himself up. It falls a little flat. He takes a deep breath. He realizes he's still holding his razor, even after crossing his house to get the bunny ears. He goes to put the razor down and catches sight of his head in the mirror once again.

Monstrous. He's friends with a lot of monsters, of course; he's known Cleo for more than a decade. And his mannerisms, they're still him. But right then, in that moment...

He pokes the bunny ears.

"I am the Playboy Minotaur," he says, more insistently. "Didn't Iskall have that dress he had covered in flowers? That's what's really important here. That, and the obligatory cannibalism if I want to reach the level 100 goal in time, of course. The Minotaur clearly ate meat, despite being a cow, and ate people, despite being half person, but we really know nothing about what cow would do to my diet. Hold on, I have a very confusing message I can write Iskall about this one."

He deliberately turns away from the mirror and goes to write Iskall something that will explain nothing at all, and then tell Cub about their oversight. It's not like he can change it now.

[applepixls]

watching ren's scootball episode and joel being the aggressive star scootball player? there is so much room for aus and rival scootball team stuff with etho...

[jtl-fics]

10/23/24 WIP Wednesday

I've returned!

Thanks again to everyone who participated in the Oops! All TBD week. It was a real delight to watch you guys read it <3

I'm gonna take Fluent Freshman off but everything else is up for grabs this week. I'm taking Wednesday off this week so here's hoping I can bang these out as they come in and maybe write a bit more.

Math Nerd - (9/10)

New Kings - (8/10)

Foxhole Bake - (3/5)

Smalls - (6/10)

TBD - (17/15) - DONE

Four Horsemen - (2/5)

As always I want to thank everyone who sends me asks. They really make my entire day / week seeing people be interested in these stories.

[sitp-recs]

Top 10 moments in a fanfic???

Thank you for the ask, it was challenging but I had a lot of fun doing this! I’d love to see yours (and everyone’s!) picks too. Here are some favorite heartkick-y moments in no particular order:

1. Draco sees Harry wearing his Puddlemere jersey (Far From the Tree)

2. “Have I taught you, then, to want things for yourself?” (By The Grace)

3. “You know me”, Malfoy said. “Expecto Patronum!” (The Boy Who Only Lived Twice)

4. Draco’s resolve: ‘We're going to save us’ (And Save Me From Bloody Men)

5. "God, what a prize you are." "Spoils of war?" (Transfigurations)

6. Drarry first kiss to Life on Mars (Little Compton Street)

7. Consummation scene (Take the Moon)

8. "Don't you think you should call me Harry if I'm fucking you?" "Why rush things?" (Waiting by an Open Door)

9. “I know you,” Harry said. “You let me take the lucky cigarette.” (Two Zinnias)

10. “Why did you come?”. “You’re my king” (The Compact)

Ask me my top 5/top 10 anything!

[kald-dal-art]

Doodles based on the last chapter of my first Quarter Quell fic, this one is definitely one of my fave chapters so far, so was very inspired to draw stuff based on it haha

Here is a link to the fic if it interest you ( X )

[canisalbus]

Okay, its game night and tonight's game is monopoly. Can be Vasco/Machete only or you can also include modern versions of the fic characters, you choose

Who's winning? And more importantly, who's taking this way too seriously?

Vasco (horse and rider) has gotten bored and largely given up, he's messing with people's houses and hotels and stacking them on top of each other, fiddling with his phone and wandering into the kitchen to get a snack and stretch his legs every ten minutes or so.

Vittorio (thimble) is winning. He doesn't seem to follow a specific strategy but has played his cards well and luck evidently favors him. He owns the most properties and is the most financially stable player by far. He's been the quietest of the bunch all night and feels shyly pleased about being at the top, but gets very apologetic when someone lands on one of his high-rent locations and he has to take money from them.

Machete (howitzer) and Piero (tophat) are taking it way too seriously. Both have agreed that Vittorio may be invincible at this point, but they're on a head-to-head battle for the second place. Everyone else has expressed willingness to call it quits but they're way too competitive to give up until one has clearly and objectively beaten the other. Machete has fancier and more developed streets but he keeps ending up in jail more often than anyone else. Piero is the banker, owns three of the four railroads and is trying to get the last one from Machete.

Maurice (battleship) was the first to go bankrupt and has retired from the game, now he's mostly chilling with Vasco and giving moral support to Vittorio. He's getting sleepy and peckish and thinking of maybe getting late night takeout on his way home, but he doesn't quite have the heart to leave yet. At 11:56 he joins Vasco in the kitchen to make grilled cheese sandwiches that will surely give him heartburn next morning.

Alonso (racecar) was just a little too rude last time and he wasn't invited.

[adsosfraser]

10 First Lines

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

(I'm going by latest updated not by the last "published" dates because that's too much work to search through.)

Eventide (everlark): Peeta lunged forward on the decorative rug stretched out before him for what was probably the fifth time that night.

Da mi diebus mille (jamieclaire): Claire Beauchamp stretched her legs up the three steep steps towards the entrance of the plane.

She Moved Through the Fair (everlark): All around, dandelions that have gone to seed whip around us, dotting the edge of the landscape of waving green grass where train and prairie meet.

I would recognise you... (jamieclaire - also longer line since the first were straight up book quotes): “I was dead. Everything around me was a blinding white. And there was a soft rushing sound like the wings of angels. I felt peaceful. And bodiless. Free of terror. Free of rage. Filled with a quiet happiness.” A soft warmth brushed my hand.

Blood Pearl/Neamhnaid Fola (jamieclaire): Jamie played with the scratchy ruffles sewed to the cuffs of his sleeves, impatient.

Wild Rose (everlark): The blue sky stretches for miles, letting the heat sneak in and saturate the air with a clinginess that can only ever belong to the final long stretch of days of the summer season.

The Sassenach Faerie (jamieclaire): The sun had not yet peaked over the grey monoliths up on the hill.

Soup of Life (outlander fix-it): It was a veritable feast for a small creature such as him.

Chocolate, churros, princesses, and scarves (jamieclaire): “Claire, mo ghraidh, mo Sorcha, I love ye so verra much-” Jamie gulped, the bob of his throat catching Claire’s eyes. “Will ye-” 

roses love sunshine, violets love dew (everlark): In and out. In and out. The blond lashes steady me.

no one tagged me in this but i do feel like taking some hostages with me so if you fancy joining 🫶: @atelierlili @mollywog @thesweetnessofspring @rosegardeninwinter @thesunpersists @littlemarianah @unnamednarrator @notsocooljess @lara-frasers @liberalk1tsch @liusaidh-writing