#carrie autumn's october writing prompts

[vividxpages]

1 and smut pls 🤭🤭

a/n: the way I was like 'how the hell can I include the beer can' hehe. I hope you like how it turned out!

vivid's little autumn writing: If you want, you can now send me a number (or two combined!) from this list of visual prompts and I'll write a little drabble (fluffy and/or smutty, you decide) for it.🧸 you can suggest them until the end of October!

🍂

Mornings at Jace’s dorm could go two very different ways.

After nights out or late study sessions, you sometimes were woken up by his blustering roommate next door, stumbling through the hallway in search for some breakfast. When Jace and Cregan threw parties, you’d find the living room littered with party corpses, scrunching your nose at all the glasses you knew Jace had to wash later. Jace, it seemed, was used to the frequent come and go in the dorm, but you with your very organized and neat girl dorm, could not relate.

Other times, when Cregan went out for an early morning jog and the dorm floor was quiet and sleeping still, you got to indulge into the pleasure of having Jacaerys all to yourself.

This morning, you had woken up from his kisses, slow and searchingly travelling over your sleep-warm skin, your attentive boyfriend already having pushed you over the edge once with his fingers buried deep inside of you and your little mewls echoing off his walls.

Now, relaxed and still a little hazy from your orgasm, Jace had carried you into the bathroom, struggling a little to get into the shower while making sure none of your body parts bumped into any walls.

“You’re getting too good at this…” You slurred against his neck, lazily kissing the underside of his stubbled jaw as he gently set you down on your feet and turned the showerhead on.

“At walking into the shower with you?” He grinned knowingly at you, shielding you from the water until it quickly reached a comfortable temperature. Rich kid dorm shit.

“You know exactly what I mean…” You mumbled, stepping right into his open arms and melting against his chest, the warm water trickling down both your naked entwined bodies. His wet curls tickled your cheek as you peppered little kisses on his strong chest, his breath hitching as you teasingly licked over one of his pecs before bringing your lips together.

The kiss quickly got heated and you moaned in his mouth as he pressed his hips into yours, his hard cock still on edge after watching you come so sweetly in his arms earlier. You pressed your chest against his and shivered as one of his hands ghosted over the side of your breast, slowly walking you towards the tiled wall behind you.

“You’re so pretty…” He whispered in awe, water falling into his eyes as they stared hungrily at you. His raspy morning voice sent a thrill down your spine and something low in your stomach stirred awake yet again. “’need to fuck you good, baby, will you let me?”

“Hell yeah, I need you…” You breathed against his lips and let him slide his tongue into your mouth, the kiss becoming deeper and more desperate. In one swift move, he hoisted you up and into his arms, your legs winding themselves around his hips. Behind you, a dull sound of something clinking against the tiles after your elbow touched it distracted you.

You looked over your shoulder, brushing away the wet hair from your face. There, nestled between the guys’ bodywash and shampoo (3 in 1 for Cregan, a whole luxurious hair routine for Jace), was a beer can.

“Really, Jace?” You cocked a disappointed eyebrow at him, the warm water continuing to flow down your naked back as he held you.

“Cregan was in here before us!” Jace protested and chuckled as you playfully leaned away from the beer can and squeezed his shoulders. “Do I taste like beer to you? At nine in the morning?”

You hummed in consideration, briefly kissing and licking over his lips, his eyes on you darkening with desire when you leaned back and squeezed your thighs around him. “No. Just toothpaste. You’re lucky you’re so cute, Jacaerys Velaryon, because you will clean that up right after you fucked me, got it?”

“Bossy, but I’ll take it.” Jace mumbled under his breath and surged forward again, eager to finally get inside you and draw more of his favorite noises from your lips.

As the steam around you rose up your bodies, the two of you came together as one, your sensitive core welcoming Jace as if he had always belonged there, deep and hot inside of you while you held onto him for dear life…

Later, you both had somehow forgotten about the can as you love-drunkenly stumbled back into Jace’s room, but at least Cregan had a nice surprise waiting for him when he took a shower after his jog…

[tanthamoretober]

What is Tanthamoretober?

Tanthamoretober is a month long event full of writing and art prompts based around the pairing Kit Tanthalos/Jade Claymore from Willow, but it can also include any number of other characters.

How does it work? You create fan content inspired by one of the prompts and post it during the month. You can do one shots or string the prompts together for a multi-chapter fic, and all types of fan content are welcome: art, fic, vids, fan mixes, rec lists, meta, memes.

What prompts? There are three lists, you can pick and choose from any of these and interpret them any way you like.

All three prompts lists - plain text edition Autumn prompt list Horror prompt list NSFW (not safe for work) prompt list

How do I share it? Add it to the Tanthamoretober collection on AO3! (Use the 'Post to collection' button, or see How do I add work to a collection for more info.)

On tumblr, use the tag 'Tanthamoretober' so others can find it (as well as any relevant content/pairing/prompt tags.) You can also tag this blog, and we'll reblog things throughout the month.

Does it have to be Tanthamore? It doesn't! You can create things for any prompt with any character or characters from Willow, you can write different pairings, you can do whatever you want forever. Just make sure that your fics are tagged appropriately!

Can it be any rating? Yes absolutely, just tag it!

Can it be any length? Sure! There is no minimum or maximum word limit.

Does it have to be canon? Nope - it can be canon, canon-divergent, or any kind of AU you would like to write!

Does it have to be finished? Nope, not at all. If one of the prompts inspires you to start a long fic, you are still totally welcome to add it to the collection during October and carry on working on it after the month is over. We will close the collection after the challenge is over but you can continue adding chapters to anything you have already added.

What if I am late with a prompt, can I still post something I made for Day 1 half way through the month? Sure you can! Time is an illusion! We just want more fics to feast on and art to look at, it doesn't matter if it's not on time.

We will be closing the collection on AO3 on Monday November 6th, though, so make sure you have added to the collection before then!

If you have any other questions, just send us a message :)

[dayseternal-blog]

"This is Halloween, this is Halloween, Halloween Halloween" 🎶

October is there (or almost here, in your case) 🎃

It is time for an October-themed fanfic rec list!

Okay :D

Here's a list with something for everyone, I think! Creepy, fluffy, smutty, funny, angsty... 🍁👻

October: Fall & Halloween NaruHina Fics

Chapter 28 from "Between the Trees" by @utsus - Rated G, Canon-Compatible, One-shot. NaruHina Prompt: Autumn [NaruHina Fanzine Submission]

"A Little Fluff for the Fall" by @nightowl27-writer - Rated T, College AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata Hyuga is an Art Major with an eye for photography, and a certain basketball player: Naruto Uzumaki. When she offers to take pictures of Konoha University's final game for the student website, she ends up with a lot more than just a few snapshots of the blond guard to drool over later.

Chapter 4 from "People Like Her" by @happyocelot - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. For the prompt "I know you're afraid but we can't hide in this closet forever" + Naruto's obvious fear of ghosts.

"Stay" by NightOwl27 - Rated E, Supernatural/Mystery AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Hinata is a young reporter looking for her first big break. A mysterious fire at the infamous and abandoned Farmhouse has the potential to be a big story. Thanks to the help of a hot firefighter named Naruto, Hinata finds out much more than she ever wanted to know.

“October - Horror” from “Still Falling for You” by @chloelapomme - Rated E, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. When despair turns into a feeling of love so intense that obsession is the only thing that can help you protect the one you love.

"Spooky Season" by @secrettastemakerland - Not Rated, Canon-Compatible AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. One thing about Uzumaki family is that when they dress up, they dress up. Halloween, the national holiday of dressing up, is no different. or 5 times the sunshine family/siblings dressed up for halloween and the 1 time they couldn't didn't.

"Consume" by @wickermayne - Rated E, Vampire AU, One-shot. It was like a fire burnt through his veins as Hinata fed on him, consuming him, demanding him to give everything to her.

Chapter 1 from "naruhina oneshots" by @powerful-niya - Rated T, Vampire AU, One-shot. She was taught to hate vampires all of her life, leaving her to loathe their existence. But one dark night, she is faced with the one thing she hates.. and also, fears. But what happens when the very same creature she hates so much saves her, taking her into his warm home. He doesn't seem to have any intention of hurting her which confuses her. Should she run, or stay? 

"Let the Moon Help With Your Love Problems" by @lostinaseaofstars - Rated T, College AU, One-shot. After a failed confession, Hinata's been avoiding Naruto. And in the process avoiding her childhood friends in the process. Sakura's had enough, managing to convince Hinata to dress up for their last Halloween together as college students. Hopefully Hinata's costume carries with it the message of love!

"Getting Laid at a Halloween Party" by Nicole the Dragon Rider - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. Hinata is going to a Halloween party with her friends at Sasuke's house. She was forced into a French maid costume but finds Naruto there. They talk and drink punch unaware that it's been spiked. Will this lead to a confession? Will Naruto accept it? Will the punch lead to something between the two friends?

"Bunny and a Fox" by The Four Crosses - Rated T, College AU, One-shot. Hinata couldn't believe she was here doing this. Here, at her friend's house, for a party, in a bunny outfit!

"Torch Song" by @mmmbuttery - Rated T, Historical AU, Multi-chapter, Complete.  "You're my girl, Hinata. Promise you'll write." "I-I promise, Naruto." How could she say no to a man going off to war?

"Killer in the house" by DarkHime213 - Rated T, Modern AU, One-shot. "It started with the old Uzumaki house up near the cliff."

"Ravenous" from "NaruHina Month December 2022" by @sessakag - Rated E, Modern AU, One-shot. “Hinataaaa,” Naruto pouted, leaning inside the open bathroom door, “you ready yet? I’m starving!”

"If I Were Real" from "NaruHina Month December 2022" by Sessakag - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot / Incomplete. This story is based on the greek mythology Pygmalion and Galatea. Long story short, Pygmalion was a sculptor that created a statue, fell in love with it, it was brought to life by Aphrodite and the two lived happily ever after and had a son.

"a home is a dream" by bluebeardsbrides - Rated M, Modern AU, One-shot. Naruto Uzumaki returns home with all the force maelstrom, three days after her husband’s disappearance and six years since she went and stumbled on Neji’s body floating in the creek downtown.

"It's Halloween Naruto Uzumaki!" by PeacefulWarrior82 - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. In the spirit of Halloween, I whipped up this little one shot, It's about Naruto, Hinata and a little thing called compromise.

"The Anger that Wanted to Bite" by @teavious - Rated T, Vampire/Werewolf AU, Short One-shot. AU in which fantastical creatures are a part of the society + if you don’t think Hinata is scary and deadly when protecting those close to her, then you’re probably wrong.

"Birthday Cake" from "Sunbeams" by mangospoons - Rated G, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. Prompt: Happy. Of course he would be.

Untitled by @jadeandonyx - Rated T, Demon AU, One-shot. Prompt: selling soul to a demon

"AU Prompt 1: Phone Booth" from "Tales of Two Ninjas" by @magmawrites - Rated T, Modern AU, One-shot. Prompt: "It's the middle of the night and I'm walking home alone in the dark and there's this guy following me and he's starting to gain on me and I found this phone booth with a lock on the door and I tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly I accidentally dialed the wrong number and I don't even know you but help me"

"Best Halloween Ever" by Wandering Wonderer - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. Naruto attends a Halloween party thrown by Hinata and Neji. For the boy who hates Halloween so much, he sure does enjoy this night.

"happy" from "Secret Lovers" by @quirrrky - Rated G, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Prompt: Hinata celebrated Naruto's birthday while in the hospital

"Birthday" by ReadingBennie - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. A collection of various birthdays for Naruto. Some were bad, some were good, and then they were the absolute best.

"Down the Rabbit Hole" by @vegebulsoup - Rated E, Modern AU, One-shot. Despite his protests, Jiraiya takes Naruto out to a hostess club for his birthday and it’s not quite what he expected.

Dark!NaruHina fanfic recommendations list

There are other Halloween fluff fics that I remember, but I can't find them. If anyone knows more, feel free to add!

[usmsgutterson]

my heart is yours- this is the general fluff prompt! I am looking for spooky fluff/fluff set in autumn that just carries with it the cozy feeling that picks up as autumn starts and the weather cools down. I will accept anything for this including prompts from the prompt lists which are located on my pinned post! Anything that is remotely fluffy goes here lol

pin x reader where r takes out alll her warm clothes for the season out of storage and is all excited and pin walks into the room and it's like a tornado came in cause there are sweaters and jackets and long sleaves all in brown and orange shades. and he just stands there like "what.. happened?"

Thief- Pin Hawthorne x fem! reader

Hi!! This one was a blast to write and it got me feeling that warm cozy autumn feeling (which I haven't really felt as we are still in consistent sun and temps above fifteen degrees Celsius where I am lol) so writing it was amazing and thank you for sending this in!

Fic type- fluff

Warnings- none

Every year come the last weekend of September or the first day of October, you had a bit of a ritual. It had started in high school and it was no different in the months after you'd graduated, living in a new-ish flat on the island and doing asynchronous online learning while going to classes in person on the mainland part time.

Pursuing your degree of choice could not stop the ritual that was the final weekend of September or the first of October, even if the fact that you'd moved away from home meant you were digging the clothes out of boxes long forgotten rather than the random nooks and crannies of your closet and drawers.

Your ritual was simple--you'd grab all of your autumn inventory and take it out of the storage you'd contained it to. You'd run it through the washer and the dryer and then sort through the chaos you'd unleashed the following day.

The first of October, Pin had swung by your apartment with the intention of surprising you with tea and your favorite pastry. He'd used the key you kept under the potted plant outside your front door and replaced it before walking in, finding you amidst a tornado of clothes in your bedroom.

Pin looked on confused for what felt like a solid thirty seconds before meeting your gaze.

"What happened here?" Pin asked, eyebrows slightly furrowed. It was like autumn had exploded but the explosion had been contained to the walls of your bedroom, a flurry of burnt oranges and dark and warm browns creating something of a mess in every corner.

"I dug my warmer stuff out of storage," you said, looking up at him for a minute. "You brought tea? I didn't expect you today but that is really sweet, Pin."

"It was meant to be a surprise," Pin shrugged, carefully stepping through the clothes until he found a spot next to you on your bed. "I always wondered how you went from one aesthetic to the next whenever you'd show up for work in a cozy jumper and decent pair of brown khakis."

You laughed, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, still buzzing with the excitement that always came with the act of dragging your autumn apparel out of storage.

Pin squinted as he noticed a brown Carhartt jacket that'd gone missing from his wardrobe the year previous. He recalled lending it to you on a particularly cold autumn day and then just...never seeing it again.

"Thief," he whispered, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

Your hand found his, taking it and interlacing your fingers. You hummed, knowing what he was referencing as your eyes closed.

"Yeah," you whispered. "In my defense, it smelled like you. It's lost it's scent, though, so you can take it back."

Pin laughed, and the two of you were oh-so content in that moment. Neither of you hoped it would ever end.

[carrieautumn-blog1]

Carrie Autumn’s October Writing Prompt #4

Carrie Autumn’s 2018 October Writing Prompts Prompt 4: The Holes

“Not a one knew where they came from. Not a one knew where they went. Holes the size of wagon wheels opened up in the ground. Out in the fields, in the city streets. The ground did not shake, or pay mind to where people where stepping. Some, unlucky, fell in that way. People turned to look beside them, and find their companion gone without so much as a whimper. They were punch holes in the earth, the ground collapsed inward as if the it were a mere hollow shell with none beneath its surface. They can’t find the bottom of it neither, it might very well go on for eternity. The clear smoke that rippled out of it against the sky like heat waves in summer had no smell or taste. It’s not hot and it doesn’t catch fire. It is, like as not, what’s making folk act so darn strange. People get up in the middle of the night, and they don’t know why. Say they hear people calling for them. My wife did as much, scared me to death and back when I saw her sitting up in bed one of those nights. Said it sounded like kin calling her, I might have been naked in December for how cold I went. I asked her, ‘You mean like your ma?’ Thinking she might mean spirits or the same. She said ‘No.’ ‘The ones coming back.’ I tried to get answers out of her, but by morning she couldn’t remember a thing of what had happened. She wasn’t the only one either. People were in a daze, walking around confused, running places for reasons they couldn’t fathom. A woman fell into the river and drowned, her husband said she had stopped paying mind to where she was stepping, walked right off a hillside and slid down into the currents. A lot of little strangeness like that happened, and everyone knew it was them holes. I don’t know if that’s true, that all these little incidents were the result of some phenomenon, or unfathomable occurrence, but there was too much happening for me not to think on it.  

Right when you couldn’t think it stranger the holes start filling up, filling up with this course and grainy, black sand. No matter how deep you tried to dig through it, you couldn’t hope to get past a foot deep. Some scientists, and people from the government came, the lot of them took up in some convoy on the edge of town. They quarantined areas in over half the city that people had to go about their lives walking through a maze of red tape and rope. Then overnight it was over. Like the holes hadn’t been there at all. New grass grew over the spots and black circles began to look like asphalt and dark spots on the pavement. Those spots began to mimic their surroundings, you couldn’t point out a spot where one had been if someone paid you. It looked as if the holes were ‘healing’ like a blemish on the skin. Not so much time after some people talk like they were never there at all, like everyone had just imagined the entire thing. They aren’t fond talking about such weirdness, and they’ve essentially bullied the ones who can’t shut up about it into silence.

I have no idea what happened. No one came back to tell us anything. No one with any authority promised that it wouldn’t happen again neither. Personally I’ve forgotten most of it, there’s no real point in dwelling on it past a certain extent. Not a thing can be done. There is that one night though, with my wife and what she said. That bit I think on more than others. I have dreams too. Dreams about holes opening up until there is no where left to stand. Until it’s nothing left to block the way.”

[seasonsofeverlark]

In Watercolor Blue

Author: @rosegardeninwinter​

Prompt: During a heavy February snowfall Katniss takes Peeta out to the woods and shows him how to tap trees for maple which they then mix with the snow to make little candied treats [submitted by @shewakesupwiththesun​] 

Rating: G 

Author’s Note: @shewakesupwiththesun​ I hope you don’t mind I took your simply gorgeous little prompt as a jumping off point to write the final (well, for now) installment of The Snowstorm Universe. This story is a missing moment set between Dreaming of Violets and Hearthsong, but you don’t need to have read either of those to get the basic gist, which is this: Prim went to and won the Games Katniss and Peeta would have won, and instead, our lovebirds get a chance to have a “normal” love story. They have been courting for a few months when this story starts! In other words, it’s a “this would have happened anyway” story. Enjoy! ________________

October

Granny Jenny Ann saw things in colors. Things you can’t see, I mean. She’d tell me that a kind word is the prettiest shade of purple you ever saw, and that a baby’s laugh is pink. She’d tell me a lie is a dirty green, and a broken promise is the dull, dead color of a bone. She never told me what color she’d call the feeling of a first love, but as Katniss leads me through the autumn trees and natural bowers of bittersweet vine on this cold morning, I decide it must be red, and orange, and dripping honey gold. 

February 

The click of a rock landed smartly against the jamb of the window makes me look up from the finance sheet I’m trying to balance for my father. I watch as another pebble sails up and hits the exact same spot. Whoever is trying to get my attention has precise aim, but I can tell who it is without that giveaway. No one else is privy to my family’s work schedules and knows my mother is at the bakery and won’t come to chase Katniss off for property damage, if a dent in the paint can be called that. 

“Don’t hit me!” I call down as I throw up the sash and stick my head out. Katniss’s nose wrinkles as she shields her face with her mitten and peers up at me. She’s wearing her father’s jacket over a gray sweater and she’s carrying a corked jug that looks like it’s meant to carry alcohol. My curiosity is piqued. “What’s that for?” 

“Come down!” she all but commands me. “Bring warm clothes. I want to go on a walk.” 

That’s code. She wants to go to the woods. I tell her I’ll be there in two shakes, then grab my work boots and my father’s hand me down coat. I take the back stairs to avoid questions from my brothers, and shove a cap and gloves on as I let the screen door snap behind me. 

“Hello,” I say, a smile I can’t control overtaking me at the sight of the girl waiting for me. 

“Hi,” she says, giving me a quiet smile, then standing on her tiptoes and giving me a soft, easy kiss, then biting her lips as she draws back, casting a glance around to make sure we’re alone. 

“You embarrassed of me?” I taunt her lightly, holding her closer by her waist. 

“No,” she says, scowling. “I’m not. Don’t tease, Peeta.” 

“No?” I hold out my hand as a challenge. Normally, she doesn’t take it until we’re well out by the fence, but as I offer it, her scowl deepens. She slaps her palm into mine, and drags me out  to the road like I’m a petulant child. I laugh, though, because even as she does it, her fingers slip into the grooves between mine. 

Winter is never very pleasant in 12. Hunger and homelessness hit the worst, and despite the best efforts of people like Prim, who gives freely of her money and belongings, there will still be death and desperation. But in the woods, where the air is free of the smell of trash fires and pollution, it’s hard not to enjoy the way the sun sparkles on the big drifts of snowfall, un-shoveled and unstained by dust. 

Katniss navigates the forest on unseen paths of her own, her steps silent as a lynx’s, and her proud, pert nose lifted slightly as she takes in surroundings: the bare aspens, and half frozen creeks. 

“Where are we going?” I ask her at last, pulling her up short. “What are we doing?” 

She holds up the jug. “I thought we could make maple candy,” she says. “The snow out here is clean and cold.” 

I blink at her and then laugh. “I thought we were — I don’t know — disposing of some illegal liquor for Haymitch. This is a date?” 

She gives me a playful smirk that tells me I’m forgiven for the embarrassment comment. “We’ll take some back into town for the children,” she says. “But yes.” 

Maybe that’s the color of a love that’s settled and sure: the pure, pearly white of the snow, as we kneel to make the maple candy. Katniss sweeps aside a layer of powder and we pour the syrup, kept hot by the jar, into lines and spirals and candy coins. I pluck one up, holding it up to Katniss. She takes it. 

“How is it?” I ask. 

“Find out for yourself,” she says, and I get my taste of the sticky amber nectar on her warm, sweet mouth. 

I cast a glance at our surroundings, and make a promise to myself, to come back, when the weather is fine, and ask another, far more important question. 

May

“Hurry up!” Prim calls up the stairs. “Peeta’s here!” 

Mrs. Everdeen shushes her, but her eyes are bright, and she’s absently winding too much twine around a bundle of herbs. I grin at Prim. I’ve let her and her mother in on my plan. It seemed only right to ask their permission, in a way. Prim already invited me to move in with them after the toasting, and I reminded her that Katniss hasn’t even said yes yet. I hope it isn’t too soon. It’s been almost a year since we agreed to take it slow, and by 12’s standards, where a couple might court for a month or so before signing the papers, this is slow. But is it slow enough for Katniss? I suppose I’ll find out — if I don’t scare her off in the process. 

“Here I am,” Katniss sighs at her sister. It’s grown too warm for her father’s jacket, so she wears a light blue button up, tucked into her hunting trousers. She frowns quizzically. “What’s going on with you? You look suspicious.” 

“It’s a beautiful day,” Prim says innocently, rising on the balls of her feet. “That’s all.” 

She’s going to give me away before we’ve even made it out the door. “I’m going on a walk,” I tell Katniss, hoisting my sketchbook. “Come with?” 

Prim wasn’t lying. It is a beautiful day, at least for an artist. There’s rain in the distance, but it won’t reach us yet, only the fresh breeze. Even better, the wildflowers are in full bloom, bluebells and phlox and oxeye daisies popping up among the tall forest grass and in little knolls and mossy crannies beneath tree roots. The creeks are running fast, chattering, and the birds are so loud I don’t think any Capitol spies could hear us even if they tried. 

“What do you want to sketch?” Katniss asks at last, as we sit down on the bank of one of these streams, where the bluebells are absolutely rampant. She takes her cap off, and I smile, but don’t mention it, when I see her sweetheart ribbon braided into her dark hair. I take my sketchbook out, set it on across my knee, and take my charcoal pencil from the crease. 

“You, if you’ll allow it,” I say. 

Katniss blinks at me. Then she laughs, as if in surprise. “Me? Why?” 

“Yes, you,” I say, leaning over to kiss her. “Because you’re beautiful. Because I love you.” 

She drops her gaze, blushing. I asked, when we first started courting, if that made her uncomfortable, hearing me say that I love her. She promised it didn’t, doesn’t, but that she never knows what to say in response when I compliment her like that. Words are my thing, not hers. I don’t expect her to say it back. I know she loves me. She doesn’t have to say it. I take her hand. 

“May I?” I ask softly, as if my heart isn’t smacking against my ribcage like a tambourine against a musician’s knee, rattling my nerves. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I want her, forever. 

“Just as long as you don’t expect me to pose or anything,” she says, squeezing my hand. 

“No,” I say, starting to scratch on the paper. “You’re perfect just like that. Looking out over the river. I only wish I had paints to show all the colors.” 

I draw for a moment. My lines keep coming out sloppy. I can’t keep the pencil steady on the page. Katniss plucks bluebells from the grass in front of her until she has a tiny bouquet, then makes a circlet of their stems. “Do you need me to stay still for this?” 

I look down at the pose I’ve roughed in and shake my head. “No? Why?” 

For answer, she scoots over to me, and crowns me with the bluebells. It’s such an oddly sentimental, almost silly gesture. I toss my book and pencil aside and pull her into my lap. “How do I look?” I ask, blowing a dangling bluebell out of my face. 

“It’s the sweetheart token you wanted,” she says. She pillows her head against my shoulder and closes her eyes. My arms enfold her, and I want nothing more than to keep her safe and happy like this for the rest of our lives. I don’t have a ring to give her. I don’t even have a house to give her. I have my heart, though, and I have my hands. I’ll work for her every day, to put a roof over her head and food in her belly. There’s no need to get married right away, not for years, if she doesn’t want it — but I have to ask.  

“Katniss,” I start, stroking up and down her back. 

She hums, and nudges my chin affectionately. She’s in rare romantic form today, her mood probably brought on by the late spring day, and that gives me the push I need. I kiss her forehead, rest my cheek against her hair, and say it. 

“Katniss, will you marry me?” 

For a heartbeat, there’s silence, during which I fight the urge to panic and crawl into the stream and let the water carry me away from my mistake. Katniss sits up in my arms, staring at me, mouth parted. 

“Too soon?” I whisper awkwardly. 

Katniss’s bottom lip gives a wobble and a thousand stammered apologies get ready to pour out of me, but she shakes her head before I can speak. “Not too soon,” she quavers. 

“So — so is that a yes?” 

“Yes,” Katniss breathes, eyes widening at her own admission. She touches her lips in shock. “Yes.” 

“Yes?” I say, a relieved laugh bubbling up in me now. 

“Yes,” she says. She kisses me, and I can feel that she’s trembling. I think I am too. “Yes, Peeta. I’ll marry you.” 

I lower her into a bed of rustling bluebells, and as I kiss her over and over, as her murmured “yes” echoes in the soft gasps between each parting and meeting of our lips, I decide that the color crowning my head and cradling Katniss beneath me must be the color of a love that is hopeful, and trusting and true: a perfect watercolor blue. 

[bonesofapoet]

I have a Halloween request!

Yelena and her partner are invited to a Halloween party where she wants to surprise her partner with her costume using this prompt “Please tell me that’s fake blood.”

Ghosts

[ yelena belova x platonic! reader ]

author's note: tysm for requesting + being patient!! 5 months later and i am, in fact, still in the halloween mood. i hope you dont mind i changed your request from romantic to platonic. since yelena is canonically ace and aromantic, i wont be writing for her romantically anymore. friendship requests always welcome tho! implied death / violence if you squint, blood mention

word count: 874

From the window seat in the great room, you could see everything.

Trees, dripping warm russet leaves amongst crimson and golden haloed clusters clung to emptying branches for their dear lives before another crisp gust of wind stole them away, sent them soaring through the streets to settle on stoops and balconies, to congregate in drains and on crowded street corners.

Through the natural confetti, city life went on. People frolicked through those very same leaves – some stomped on them carelessly, if one couldn’t hold the magic of autumn in their hands – as they went about their evening in muted neutrals, the vibrant jewel tones and proper costumed attire that screamed October. The contrast was barely noticeable, honestly just another quirk of humanity you had grown used to. You would be among them soon, blending in on the streets – assuming Yelena would be ready to leave anytime soon.

It never bothered you,how she did everything in her own time. You, yourself had learned in your own way what it was like to lose part of your life, your sense of self. To not have the luxury of choices or time or resources for what you needed – wanted– most. Nothing was trivial. Not really.

“How’s it going in ther- oh my god.”

“It’s good, right?”

“It’s, ah -” surprising. Unexpected. Alarming, to a point, actually. “Festive as fuck, that’s for sure.”

Gorgeous leaves? Forgotten. City past the window? Doesn’t exist. Costume party you’re late for? Never heard of it. You, in shock? Maybe a little.

“Come on, close your mouth. Stop floundering like a fish and tell me what you think – I spent hours getting the consistency right.”

Your mouth snaps shut. There’s an audible click when your teeth slam down into each other. A mirror isn’t needed for you to know your eyes are huge: wide as obnoxiously oversize dinner plates, round as the eyes of a certain goddess’s precious owls.

The smile curling around Yelena’s teeth, the grin lighting up her eyes tells you that this is the reaction she was gunning for: you, frozen to the spot, unable to blink, to look away, words not flowing soft and smoothly like honey – but instead disjointed and broken and graceless.

She held her arms out in a pose, completed a slow, flourished twirl. The killer thing, though (pun not intended) -she was covered head to toe in glistening, thick, red blood.

“Well it paid the hell off. You look like you Carrie-d yourself,Yelena,” you finally slid back into coherency as your eyes took in her work, rising to get a closer look at the replica dress from the 1978 Stephen King classic. “No wonder you were so secretive, this is incredible.” A hand drifts up to graze the goo, but considering how fresh it looks. . .you think better of it. “Just, uh – one question.”

“Shoot.” she smooths a section of shimmering pink satin, one of the only sections untouched by the-

“This is fake blood, right?”

The laugh that spilled out was like liquid gold, glittering and shining bright as it settled over your skin. All the comforts of the world had wrapped around you, by the sound she made because of your curiosity. It’s infectious, and soon you’re laughing lightly along with her. You were fairly certain it wasn’t real, the blood, the sickening smell of real gore was nowhere to be found, though. . .

“You thought this was real?” she spits out between breaths. Her face is hidden by all that red, but her eyes are bright with the thrill, and her smile is wide and clear and wholly, completely, happy. “Oh, that’s funny. Didn’t I tell you this was a good recipe? I found one of those videos, you know, with the corn syrup? ‘Real blood.’” she mocks. “Please. That would be too much work.”

“Yeah, yeah, ha ha. You look great, Yelena, really. Everyone loves a good Carrie.” you flash a smile, offer her your arm. Stickiness be damned. You’re just looking forward to sharing a beautiful night with your friend. “Shall we?”

“God, yes.” her arm loops through yours. “I can’t wait to see the looks on people’s faces.” there’s a lilt in her voice as she speaks, a distant look now lived in her eyes.

She’s grateful, Yelena. That she told you about her childhood, and what she could spare of her ‘profession.’ And this day, of all days -

It was hard to shake off the skeletons that rose from their graves, even though they had fallen into blurs and feelings instead of clean cut memories. Time had a flare for doing that, she learned. The art of distorting things over time.

A flash of an orange jack-o-lantern flickering on a front porch, the streak of Natasha running ahead of her, pail of candy hanging from her fingertips-

Night air hit Yelena’s lungs and you were still strong at her side. She matched your grin (this one not quite reaching her eyes), and followed you into the chaos, blooming and crawling with creatures of every kind.

She placed the memories of real blood and bone aside for the night, losing herself in a season where none of it. . . none of it could hurt her tonight.

[tkhasjoinedthefray]

Spooktober, Day 1

Poisons, Potions, and Propositions The setting sun filtered through the murky bottles and clashed in vivid greens and oranges across the wooden floor. She heaved a sigh and straightened her spine with an audible series of crackles and pops. It was another day at its end and she was quite ready to be gone from this place for a couple of hours. Her fingers were brushing the ring of keys at her waist when the silver bells in the entryway sounded. "Apothecary's closed," she called and hurried to her feet so that she miight intercept a wellmeaning customer. The young man in the doorway wrung his gloved hands, clearly distraught. He was a willowy lad, with narrow shoulders and a weak chin. She thought perhaps that he had the barest hint of a blode mustache forming across his lips. When she repeated herself, he threw his hands into the air, defeated. "Alas, she's dead!" He stammered through broken sobs, smearing watery mucus across his silk sleeves. "And I am doomed to a life without her!" Whatever else he had to say was unintelligible---he wailed his life's story into his jewel-encrusted cape. The apothecary felt a deep sigh whistle through her clenched teeth. She had a goddammed sign… "Let me guess," she began, swallowing the sharp edges of her impatience, "you've only jist met but you're destoned to be together, her family doesn't understand, and she's to be married to someone else?" He sniffed and snorted pitifully and when it rattled in his chest, she thought that she would gag. Instead, she continued, "You heard she's gone and died and you came back to pay your respects, only you want a little something to ensure you're together always. Is that right?" A frantic nod. The apothecary made a show of examining amber vials and iron jars filled to bursting with jellied eels and dried mushrooms. Finally she grasped the side of a bottle and tipped two pills onto a cotton teabag. All the while, the sniveling dandy awkwardly watched and waited, shuffling between the dusty shelves, frightened but fascinated. What a little fool. "Take these," she told him. "Enjoy your happily ever after." She quoted an exorbitant fee and sent him tripping over cobblestones in his velvet slippers. When the man and his rather expensive aspirin were out of sight, she readjusted the NO LOVE STORIES, THANK YOU sign in the smudged window and turned the key in the latch.

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {19}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, drugs, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: This one is actually pretty fluffy, friends. You’re welcome.

“It's a rare person to face who they are and not run from it - not be broken by it.” ― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“What do you think of an October wedding?”

Rhysand was flipping pancakes in the skillet - it was breakfast for dinner night. He’d already made a plate piled high with bacon. “Sounds nice.”

“This October,” Feyre clarified, scrolling through her newsfeed on her phone from the barstool behind the island.

Rhysand glanced over his shoulder. “As in...three months from now?”

“Yeah,” Feyre said, smiling. “Why not?”

“Don’t weddings take ten years to plan?” Rhysand asked, turning off the stove top burner. 

“Usually, but I don’t want anything big,” she said, setting down her phone. “And, I always wanted a fall wedding. Early October will allow us to do it outside before it starts getting too cold...and I don’t want to wait a whole year and a half to become your wife.”

Rhysand turned around and leaned against the opposite side of the island. “Tell me when and where, and I’ll be there, waiting for you at the end of the aisle.” 

Her grin widened. “Good answer.”

Rhysand winked. “See? I’m making a good husband already.”

“I never doubted that you were husband material,” Feyre said, eyes softening. “I have to tell the girls. Oh, fuck, there’s so much to do in three months time. Okay. I need a notepad.”

“A notepad?” Rhysand chuckled.

“Yes,” she said, giving him a pointed look as she dug through a few junk drawers before finding a small notepad and a pen. “Alright. I need a dress. I need bridesmaids...they also need dresses. We need to pick out wedding bands. Oh, and an actual band to play at our reception. Food. We need food. A place to get married. A priest. Oh, Mila will be the flower girl, of course. What else….alcohol! We must have wine.”

Rhysand stared as she listed off item after item after item.

“You realize all this needs to be done in three months, right?” he asked. “If you must get married this October.”

Feyre nodded, slowly, looking uncertain as she looked through her final pages that made up her list.

“Hey,” Rhysand said, quietly. “We can wait.”

“No,” she said, setting the list down and looking up at him. “Rhys, I wanna be your wife, and I don’t wanna have to wait. You asked me to marry you, I said yes, now we’re going to get married. And I don’t want to wait. As much as I love calling you my fiance, I’m already ready to call you my husband.”

Rhysand huffed a laugh. “Alright. Give me the notepad, then.”

Feyre slid the notepad and pen across the island, along with her ridiculously long list. Rhysand starting writing out a new one, and when he was done, he handed two sheets to Feyre and kept two for himself.

She raised her brows. “What’s this?”

“I split it in half. You and the girls take care of what’s on that list, me and Cassian and Az will take care of what’s on mine. You wanna get married in October, then we’ll be ready to get married in October.”

A small smile appeared on Feyre’s lips. “I constantly wonder how I became so lucky.”

“As you should,” Rhysand muttered. “I’m fucking awesome.”

With a roll of her eyes, Feyre stood from the barstool and ran around the island, into Rhysand’s arms. She kissed him, long and slowly, before grabbing a plate off the counter and loading it up with food. They ate on the couch, watching a ridiculous, old rom-com. 

Feyre thought that if this was a preview of the rest of her life, she was, truly, one lucky woman.

~~~~~

Mila was playing with Elain’s new kitten in her living room while Azriel sat with Elain in the kitchen.

They had spent the last few hours clearing out Elain’s guest room, which they had just unpacked the week before. Nesta would be moving in for a while. Elain had offered, and Nesta had jumped on the opportunity.

“It sounds like she’s doing well,” Azriel said. “All things considering.”

“She will be,” Elain said, nodding. 

Azriel moved his chair closer to hers. “And how are you doing? Still okay?”

Elain nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The first week after she stopped her diet pills was hard on her body. She woke up every morning, feeling sick, starving for the first time in ages. She had tried to get on a regulated, healthy eating schedule, but her body was adjusting.

As time went on, though, it grew easier. 

“Lain!” Mila called from the living room. “Can I watch t.v.?”

Elain looked at Azriel, who nodded. When she left to help Mila turn it on, Azriel stood from where he was sitting and wandered around the kitchen. There was a picture she had put onto her fridge of her, Feyre, and Nesta in high school.

Not much had changed.

In the picture, Elain wore her cheerleading uniform, Nesta was wearing a black cropped top and jeans, and Feyre was wearing Rhysand’s Letterman jacket. It was after a basketball game, taken outside among the falling Autumn leaves. He wished he would have known Elain, then. Wished he would have found her sooner.

“Admiring me in my cheer uniform?” Elain asked, coming up behind him. When he turned and wrapped his arms around her, he was grinning.

“If you still have it, I wouldn’t be mad if you put it on.”

Elain laughed, shoving him in the chest. “Keep dreaming. I remember watching you play. Basketball. You were good.”

“I loved it,” Azriel said. “Smoked too much pot, though, to ever make anything of myself playing. At least, that’s what coach used to say.”

Elain chuckled. “Well, little did he know you would turn into such an amazing man.”

“You think too highly of me,” he mumbled, leaning down to capture her lips with his. The kiss was soft, but it lasted a while, Elain melting into his touch, Azriel’s arms tightening around her waist. 

He lifted her up and set her on the edge of the counter. Her slim legs immediately wrapped around his body, pulling him closer to her. His tongue swept between her lips, and he only hesitated when he heard Mila laughing at something on the t.v.

He’d forgotten she was there.

Azriel jerked back, feeling guilty for melting into their own little world, but Elain was laughing, quietly. 

“I suppose we should keep off each other while the little one is awake,” she whispered.

Azriel nodded, then kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips, one final time. “Maybe so.”

“But when she goes to sleep…” Elain trailed off, running her fingers down his chest.

Azriel grinned, eyes lighting up as he said, “Tease.”

“Only for you,” Elain muttered, wrapping her arms around him in an innocent embrace.

Even though innocent it was, Mila thought it was horrifying.

“Ewwww, I’m right here!” she yelled, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

Azriel laughed as he spun around, narrowed his eyes, and started running toward Mila. She yelled and started running the other way, but Azriel’s legs were just a little bit longer. He caught her and threw her over his shoulder. 

“Let me down!” she giggled.

“Never!” Azriel cried, but he threw her down onto the couch before tickling her tummy. 

Elain stood in the doorway, watching the sight with a full heart.

~~~~~

Cassian had just gotten home from work when he saw Nesta, coming out of her apartment, struggling with a bigass box.

It had been almost two weeks since Feyre had spent the night at her sister’s apartment and Cassian had been trying to keep his distance. He had noticed, too, that Nesta hadn’t been home much. She had either been with Feyre or Elain. She couldn’t trust herself to be alone.

“Need help?” he asked.

She stopped, and although he couldn’t see her over the box, he assumed he was the last person she wanted to see.

“No, it’s okay.” There was nothing hard in her voice, just exhaustion. Feyre said she was detoxing - which, judging by the amount of drugs she had pulled out of Nesta’s apartment days before, Cassian wasn’t surprised.

“I don’t mind,” he said, taking the box from her before she could protest. “Moving?”

She sighed, finally able to meet his eye once she was free of the box. She grabbed another one, a smaller one, from just inside of her doorway. “Going to live with Elain. She has an extra room.”

Cassian nodded, surprised, and a small, selfish part of him was upset she was leaving the apartment across from his.

“Well, I can help you carry some of this down to your car. And, if you need more room, I don’t mind helping,” he said. “I do have a truck.” 

She smiled, softly. “Thanks.”

Nesta closed her door and started walking toward the staircase, Cassian close behind. When they made it to her car, Cassian shoved the giant box into her trunk.

As they began to walk back up the stairs, she cleared her throat. “Cassian…I’ve been meaning to come by-”

“It’s okay,” he said, cutting her off. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m sorry,” she breathed. She stopped in front of her apartment door to meet his gaze. 

Cassian said nothing. He just leaned against the brick building with his hands in his pockets.

“What I did to you wasn’t fair, and I know that, but I just want you to know that it had nothing to do with you.”

It’s not you, it’s me. It was the oldest line in the book; but, for once, Cassian knew it to be true. Even if it did make him feel guilty.

“I should have been there for you,” he said, then. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Are you fucking kidding? I pushed you away. You had every right to react as you did. I wanted you to react as you did. I wanted you to hate me. And I was glad when you did.”

Cassian cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

She shook her head. “It’s not important.”

“It is to me,” Cassian whispered.

Nesta nodded, and leaned against the wall opposite of him. She blew out a long, slow, unsteady breath. “It’s easier when people don’t like you.”

Cassian thought of all the times he had told Nesta how he felt about her. Not once did she tell him that she liked him back; and when he had told her that he loved her, she wouldn’t even let him finish. 

“Maybe so,” he agreed. “But it’s lonely.”

“I’ve always been lonely,” she said, simply. 

Cassian nodded. “You don’t have to be, though. Start letting people in, Nesta. You’ll find it’s a hell of a lot nicer that way.”

She huffed a laugh and looked out at the parking lot, where the sun was setting. “Maybe I’ll give it a try.” 

“Good,” Cassian muttered, and when she looked back at him, he was already watching her. “Need help packing up?”

“You just got home from work,” she said. “You should go relax.” 

“I never relax,” he countered. “I’ve got nothing to do. Amren is out walking Bryaxis. Last offer.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed, but there was a small smile on her mouth. “Okay. Sure. Thanks.”

He nodded before following her into her apartment. She had already packed quite a bit up. Boxes of all shapes and sizes sat around the living room and the kitchen.

“All I really have left is my bedroom and the bathroom.”

“Boxes?”

“At the end of the hallway. A Sharpie is there, too.”

“Right,” Cassian said. “And if I forget to label a box?”

“I’ll know it was you who forgot and I’ll kick your ass.”

Cassian laughed. “Holy fuck, Nesta Archeron made a joke.”

She looked over her shoulder as she padded down the hallway. Her eyes were bright. Weary, but bright “It wasn’t a joke.”

Humored, Cassian walked after her and into her bedroom. “Where do you want me to start?”

“You’re tall,” she began, “mind getting all the stuff from the top of my closet?”

Cassian nodded, grabbed a box from the hallway and taped up the bottom before getting to work. 

“So, how are you feeling?”

She didn’t answer for a minute, and as another minute passed, Cassian thought he had pissed her off. But, then she answered, “Decent. Thankfully, Feyre found the hard stuff before I could really get into it. Most of what I took were those pain pills...Last week was hell. I was miserable. But the last couple days…” she shrugged. “The last couple days have been decent. I’m really fucking tired, but my head is clear...Even though my thoughts run a little more wild with a clear head. I’ve got a long road ahead of me, and I’ll have to fight for myself, every day, but, for the first time, I look forward to that.”

“That’s good,” he said, and when Nesta gave him a curious look he said, “Not about being tired and feeling like hell, about...you know. You just...You look good.”

She gave him another curious look.

“Not in like a sexual sense. I mean - you look good that way, too, but, I meant...you know. You look….hydrated.”

Nesta laughed, quietly. “Hydrated. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Cassian said, then quickly faced her closet to stop whatever words were wanting to come out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

Just when he thought Nesta couldn’t have any more books than the ones that had been displayed in her living room, he pulled down stack after stack from the shelf at the top of her closet. There were also photo albums, which she refused to let him look through, and old CDs. There was one thing that really surprised him, though, that he found in the back of the closet. 

“You play the violin?”

Nesta stopped what she was doing by her desk. “You sound surprised.”

He looked at her, from the top of her head to her socks that were covered in black cats. “I just….never saw you as the violin type. Or, you know, the musical type in general.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I haven’t played in years. My mom gave that to me, though, when I played nearly every day. Can’t get rid of it. Maybe I’ll pick it up again some day.”

Cassian unhooked the case and looked inside. It was made of a red wood, the bow was well worn. With a smile, he shut it safely inside and placed it in the top of his box. “You should. Pick it up again.” 

“Do you play anything?” Nesta asked, her back turned to him, once more.

“No,” Cassian answered. “I sang in choir in high school though.”

Nesta’s shoulders shook with laughter. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“You can sing?”

“Fuck no,” Cassian said. “I was horrible.” 

As Nesta’s laughter filled the room, Cassian taped the box shut and wrote in big, obnoxious letters, Top Closet Shit. He underlined it three times before putting the lid back on the marker and tossing it on her bed. 

She watched him, brows raised.

He shrugged. “At least I labelled.” 

Cassian stayed with her all night, helping pack the rest of her belongings. He did most of the work as she ordered him around, which Cassian was happy to do because he could tell she was exhausted. She seemed to be doing well, though. But every now and then when he looked at her, when she didn’t know it, her eyes were distant, heavy. But when she smiled at him, it was true. Genuine. And when she spoke, he knew she meant the words coming out of her mouth. For once, she seemed excited at the thought of going to live with her sister.

As midnight rolled around, everything Nesta owned was packed away in a box. She walked Cassian to her front door.

“Thank you for helping,” she said, eyes still bright from their night of talking about useless shit and laughing about nothing, even though that exhaustion lingered. “Truly. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I care about you, Nesta,” he said, voice quiet. “And I’m proud of you.”

Her smile faded, and she nodded, blue eyes shining. “Thanks.”

“I’ll be here in the morning to load the back of my truck up,” he promised.

“Great,” she whispered, smiling once more.

Cassian turned to leave, but when he opened the door, Nesta called his name.

He turned around and she had taken a step closer to him.

She shook her head as she said, “I was falling in love with you, too. For whatever it’s worth.”

Cassian froze before closing the distance between them and pressing his mouth to the top of her head. 

After one last smile, he left, and let himself into his own apartment.

Amren watched as he closed the door and leaned against it.

She asked him a question, but he didn’t hear it.

Nesta’s words were replaying in his mind, over and over and over again.

I was falling in love with you, too.

Cassian smiled.

When she said it, her eyes were clear, her voice sturdy. 

She was sober.

Nesta was sober.

Friends may be all that they remained, but that confession would stay with him.

For whatever it’s worth.

It was worth everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty  @starkovsnesta​   @redisriding​  @photofeesh

@mariamuses​   @tswaney17    @amaranthas-whore​   @awesomelena555

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@mynewdreamwasyou​ @humming-asong​  

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@julemmaes​  @itsme-malin

@regular-nessian-trash​  @made-of-stardust-and-wanderlust

@ugh-avila​  @awkward-avocado-s​

@superspiritfestival  @the-dark-swan​  @girlgotattitude448​  @eversincebeirut​

@midnightrose-reader​  @lord-douglas-the-third​  @thestarguidingyouhome​

@empress-ofbloodshed​  @starkovsnesta​ @nickjgoodsell​

Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

[miyomiikonran]

OC-tober Day 1: Journey

Hello there! We're yet again in that time of the year when I try (and mostly fail) to make this account seem more alive, talking about stuff no one besides me cares about, a.ka. countless details about my OCs :') Still, this year I'm gonna try again to keep up with prompts even though I think it's the busiest year I've had since I first tried doing OCtober. A lot had changed since year ago, I dropped out of my studies, started working full time, I moved out to live with love of my life, I started making steps towards finally starting improving my mental health, mostly by seeking professional diagnosis for what I think might be the answer to all the problems I had my whole life... A lot of shit is happening at once, so dunno if I will even manage to write anything plot related. I might just dump bunch of details related to day's topic and move on. But well, good enough in this kind of circumstances.

If anyone ever reads it, welp, I hope you enjoy and have a nice day.

___________________________________________

Today's prompt is "journey" which I decided to consider in its literal meaning, as traveling somewhere, rather than growing up and maturing just to not make it too deep. In this sense it immediately made me think of one of my more recent OCs - Avi, created for what me and @ironic-artist called "ultimate fantasy au", the kind of universe where my sweetheart can release all the wildest ideas about flying whales, hellton of races and whatever pretty sceneries he would like to imagine. It turned out to be quite fun even tho I was pessimistic at first about such chaos gathered in one big place like that.

So, since I finally started to grow fond of the idea, I had a thought of some less usual kind of elves we could have there, like lava elves, with cracked gray skin through which warmth and magic glow could seep through to the outside (since it's magic-for-all kind of universe, every being has some but different kinds and amounts combined with individual talent for developing their magical abilities), especially at night. Their original environment were mountains where their efficiently worked in mines and crafted all sorts of jewellery from minerals and precious stones they could find in them.

Avi however, was a born daydreamer growing up on the stories from his beloved great-grandfather who broke family tradition and traveled across the land, which inspired him to do the same, following the same cycle every year- going out at first signs of spring and coming back in late autumn, working in whatever kind of field he could find a job, mostly on farms which often needed additional pair of hands at that time of year. Sleeping under open skies, working, travelling each year in different direction, wherever his legs could carry him... Until one day he stumbled across mysterious looking deer Animalious (half humanoid half animal kind of race Ironic thought of. So basically a fancy furry. Luv u too sweetie~), with detail that could distinguish them from any other- beautiful, crystal antlers and hooves, that seemed like something out of this world. Yes they fall in love later but shhh.

It's kind of funny how with growing older I start to create more and more light-themed characters without much drama, problems, trauma related backstory, as if I try to heal my own soul with these kinds of wholesome stories.

[ghastlyprose]

Early Morning Reminiscing

Written for Iruka Week 2021 hosted by @iruka-week !

Day 1 Prompt: Scars

Rating: General

Characters: Umino Iruka, Hatake Kakashi

Pairing: Iruka/Kakashi

Tags: Light angst, scars, established relationship (but its not the focal point), Iruka-centric

Summary: Some scars are easier to heal than others.

Read Over On AO3!

A/N: First fanfic written in years! It’s a challenge to write for characters and worlds that are already established to some degree, but i still wanted to try my hand at it. Practice makes perfect and all that jazz. Unbetad, all mistakes are my own, sorry! Enjoy~

Scars were the result of many things. Of fun and love, of hardships and of loss.

Of surviving, always of surviving.

The day before had passed in a blur, almost imagined. Blurry eyes barely pierced the surface of reality, his mind suspended in a state of dissociation and the only thing keeping him relatively grounded was the touch of raised flesh that spanned against his nose and cheeks. He wasn’t the only one, this time being a somber time for most, but he wasn’t sure if he was happy or not to not be alone in his feelings.  

He’d been sure to request the next day off months in advance. No matter how much older he’d gotten, October 10th was never easier to handle than the year before.

He awoke at his normal time, 6am, always too early, but he allowed himself the small comfort of staying in bed. Fingers curled around the edge of the blanket pulled up to his nose, absentmindedly skimming across the scar he’d been gifted when he was younger. Flashes of bright orange and blue danced behind eyelids held shut too tight, memories of scorching heat almost tangible enough to burn him some 15 years later. Blood curdling screams still rang deep in his ear and he bit his lip to hold back a sob, the small part of him in the present trying to convince himself he was shaking from the mid autumn chill sweeping gently passed half drawn curtains.

He wrenched his eyes open in an attempt to draw him back to the here and now, rapidly blinking his eyes to rid them of the tears that threatened to spill. He took comfort in the dark, knowing that when the sun began to rise, its fiery light would remind him all too much of what he tried desperately to forget.

He thought it rather pathetic that almost two decades later he was still on the verge of tears when thinking about that day. Fighting, death and destruction were all too commonplace in a world such as their own. He had his own fair share of scars besides the one. Small nicks and scrapes on his hands, a constant reminder of the fact that he woke up everyday to teach preteens how to be anything but, how to fight, how to kill. Even some keloids from tricky missions of his own or one scar long and gnarled whose phantom pain reminded him that trust in others can unfortunately be a fickle thing.

Be it from shuriken or kunai, fire or lightning, having scars was as natural as breathing to all shinobi and while it wasn't uncommon to remember the stories attached to them, you weren’t supposed to dwell. You weren’t supposed to shed tears until there were no more to shed years after events had passed. You were supposed to move on.  

He could deal with the physical scars, he thinks. Once the pain of receiving them wears off, they’re easy to forget about until he caught a glimpse of them in a mirror or his fingers grazed over them just so while he washed. And even still, there was no shortage of scars marring the skin of those walking around the village so it was almost easy to become disillusioned to the importance of them. Instead of focusing on the addition of another notch made on skin, most people focused on the fact that they were fortunate enough to return to the village with those marks in the first place, another scar used to commemorate the fact that they had fought hard enough to live at least one more day.

It was the emotional scars that he hated most. The existence of the scar that spans the length of tan cheeks served more as a reminder of the things held inside his head, inside his heart. Loss is another thing all too common but losing loved ones leaves an ache that seems to never fade.

Scars formed from almost losing loved ones do the same, he thinks, as a mop of golden hair and a smile too bright for this world flashes in his eyes.

An arm slides around his waist, pulling him back into a warm embrace, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. He startles just so, having forgotten that he wasn’t alone, the warmth of the others' presence masked by thoughts too heavy for so early in the morning.

“You’re thinking too loud.” Kakashi whispers, chapped lips dragging lazily against Iruka's neck before giving warm skin a quick peck.

“Sorry.” he murmurs, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding. It's only then that he takes notice of the tension in his muscles and releases them as best he can with a small sigh.

Kakashi's voice is groggy with sleep when he asks, "Do you want to talk about what’s on your mind?" Iruka slides his fingers between the ones resting on his stomach and squeezes hard, allows the touch of smooth skin to ground him.

"Not much, really." He knows Kakashi would see the evasion for what it is but wouldn't push too much. "Just… scars."

Kakashi breathes a heavy, knowing sigh, tickling the hairs at the nape of Iruka's neck. “Yeah… I get what you mean.” he says and leaves it at that.

Iruka knew Kakashi would see underneath the underneath, knew he didn’t need to elaborate any further. Kakashi carried more scars than anyone else he knew. Iruka hated it, hated knowing that the man he loved most in the world understood how he felt and then some, but right now he tried to take a small bit of comfort in at least remembering he wasn’t alone.

[carrieautumn-blog1]

Carrie Autumn’s 2018 October Writing Prompts #2

Carrie Autumn’s 2018 October Writing Prompts Prompt 2: A Mysterious Salesman’s Strange Wares

I woke up to the dying sun just as the rosy skies were making their violet turn. The feeble light could not hope to touch me now, I was submerged in the depths of the trees and trapped in the sunken bed of a dead river. My limbs blistered and were unable to bear my weight any longer, I recognized the poison that flowed within me. I knew my time had come and unlike the petulant humans who had stuck me I would not go to my end with arrogant, ignoble pleas or insufferable commotion. I waited quietly for death, as suits any Many-Faced Creature. The forest played its melodies kindly, though few were left to listen, and I was glad enough for that.

Then a jingling intruded upon my solitude, the sound of metal, the song of those on two legs. I uncurled my limbs, and tried to heave myself up, sometimes my size was enough to intimidate the smaller ones, but I was forced into an uneven bow. I had hoped I would have remained in isolation until the last, but if those who hunted me had somehow managed to cross the great distance I had left between us, or if another of the hostile races found me I would be given a quick end, but the most dishonorable rites. They would take apart my body and use it in their machines, no matter the disharmony it would bring my own soul or those of my kin. My heavy breaths shook my flowing tassels, they twisted in the air and told me what fate it was that approached.

A single human, without the aura of blood-thirst I was accustomed to them carrying. Perhaps they would be frightened away and forget where my body lied as the night changed to day. It was unlikely. I know my parts are worth many of the garish metal they so value, enough that they are willing to look past its cursed nature. Perhaps their kind is so enveloped in ill fortune they can no longer tell the difference, they might think it the natural order that such evil befalls them so often. If I could manage a single howl I might be able to ward him off before he takes in my condition, but the ooze of black and phosphorescent blue promises to give me away. Besides that I cannot manage more than a low rumble from the very bottom of me. I sink back to the ground, easing the ever amassing pain that has hold of me, just as the human comes upon me.

It stumbles when it finally sees me, I know that it’s eyes are susceptible to the tricks of night, they strain in the absence of their sun and fires. It is without any of these, and I am surprised he has not fallen and broken his neck on the uneven earth. He is not a warrior that I have ever seen, he carries no weapons and wear only simple cloths. Instead he carries a humble bag of sorts, perhaps his only possessions. I expect him to either flee or, if he is foolish enough, to attack. He does neither of these things. Whatever trickster spirit possesses his mind has the human address me, as if he has taken me for one of his own, or perhaps a wounded animal.

“Well I’ll be. A real, honest-to-Martha, Iambaba. You alright there? You don’t look too good.” I am no fool to trickery or fan of ill-timed mirth. I cannot guess this man’s game, but will not play a part in it. He eases himself forward, taking out a hand-fire known as a lantern. He plays with the glass and dials until a red burst lights the river bed’s hollow walls.

“Oh my. I’m guessing you’ve come from up South, now did ya. Well it might be this is your lucky day. My name’s Anderson and I am without a doubt the end to all Salesmen, the only one you’ll ever need. Where did I put that card?” It began to search it’s cloths until it touched the hat upon its head, and removed a flat paper from it’s band. “There you have it. I recently started putting them in my hat, you see. I never forget my hat, and it’s close to my most valuable item.” He tapped his head. “Course whenever it rains, or whenever I want to make a good impression I show folks just how exactly valuable it is by making a fool of myself. Those are some dinner plate eyes you got there. They’re beautiful of course.”

I hoped if I stayed quiet it would lose interest. The thought also crossed my mind that if it wandered I little closer I might be able to smother it, but my underside was too light and filled with my precious remaining wind. I growled and turned my eyes inward, but felt the human traipsing closer.

“Now I’ll be honest I’ve never done business with an Iambaba, but I’m never one to turn my back on folks in need. You ask anyone in the East or any the ones that done business with me, Anderson is a different sort of salesman. I’m honor bound to sell only to those who are the most in need of my services. Took an oath, like a doctor or a judge. That’s no shtick either, I mean it Mr.Iambaba. Ms. Iambaba. Excuse my assumptions, my mother, Martha rest her soul, said I was raised by wolves first year of my life. Said I was too rude and sent me back.” The man laughed and again my tassels sensed him as he proceeded closer, and closer. Then I heard him rifling through his meager sack. I assumed to draw his weapon, I leaned away and hissed. Letting my eyes roll forward, the man put up his empty hands. “Sorry, you’re right. You and I haven’t made any sort of deal yet.” He dropped the bag beside his two feet. He began to ramble on again about his prowess and wares. It then occurred to me, that humans were just absurd enough that this man truly thought I would make a trade with him? Even if I was willing to look past the centuries of ill-will what did this human possibly think I could want from him? Or that I could have for him? Not my parts surely, if he wanted those, he need only wait. The best thing this man could give me, if he was genuine in his assertion, was to leave me be.

“Go away.” I whispered in his tongue, the sound caused him to shiver as my winds ran over his ears.

“Well I can’t do that now. It would be against my code, as I said.” He began rubbing his ears. “I can offer you my services. I can make you a great deal, best one of your life if you don’t mind my macabre gaff there. I would only like a few minutes of your precious time.”

“There is nothing you can give me, but solitude. Your kind have nothing they could possibly offer to one such as myself.”

“You would think so wouldn’t you? I don’t pretend to be all connected, or one with anything, but I am not over exaggerating my prowess. If it please Iambaba-”

“I am not Iambaba. Do not call me such things. I am the Creature of Many Faces.”

“I’ve heard that before, forgive me for saying, but you seem to have just that one to me. It’s a legendary one, fearsome too. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t have nightmares of those large red peepers.”

“You might try to mock me, but it is you is being made the fool. Your limited, linear speech is testament to your kind’s inability.”

“For certain, but I am not mocking you, Creature of Many Faces. I am trying to tell you, that you have need of what is in my bag, if you would only ask to see it.” The man lost his smile and took on a serious face. “No games, no tricks. I am Anderson the salesman who sales his wares to those in need. And I always have what one desires.” There was a flicker in the fire, and a shimmer in his tiny, beastly eye. Call me a fool, or wearied by the growing shadows in my eyes, but I began to succumb to the promise of a final surprise.

“Fine, what is it that you offer me human Anderson?” His smile returned, but I think it would not have if he could have truly given me what I wanted right then, the strength to eat him whole. Regardless he reached into the bag.

“This my friend is called by many names, as many names as you have faces. I simply refer to it as the Second Breath. It is not something I give lightly, or to any but those who have the truest need of it. It offers the most precious gift of all, Time. Life. With this you might yet live to see many mornings. I cannot predict how much time it might give you, perhaps only a few seconds. Or, perhaps, life eternal. I can tell you are not one to shy away from death, but this item also has another feature. One I think will more likely interest you. But first allow me to explain the caveat of this item. If you took this Second Breath, this second chance at life, it would be because you would take on the life of another. You’d continue out their days in their life, seeing through their eyes. It follows that they would take your place in this form, waiting on death’s front porch. I realize you’re wise enough to know this as a gamble and perhaps one that would shame you, so instead I offer you this. The chance to give second life to someone else, anything that once drew breath might live again. And it might do so in the body of your choosing. If you so wish it the Devil might find himself at home in the body of God himself, if those words mean anything to you.”

“How is it possible that you could have come across something like this?”

“Easy. I made the right trade. I told you do not underestimate the prowess of Anderson the Salesman. Everything I give comes with a cost, I do not do freebies. This too, comes with a price.”

“What would you have of me?”

“So you are interested?” I thought on it, as I could no longer make out the man’s face or the glow of his fire, as my winds had begun to flow out from beneath me, returning to the skies from which they were born.

“Do I have to know the one I would bestow this breath upon. Would I have to have known their face?”

“Not at all. It’s a very flexible thing.”

“Then I would give life to the one who died, the one who would rise again and have it in their power to slay all the humans and two leggers in the world who destroy the forests and seas. The ones who hunt down my kind for parts, and sheer the mountains down to pebbles. That is what I wish, what I desire. If that one could rise up, and kill every last one of you.”

“Then we have a deal.” He laughed, but it was a far away sound to me.

“And what is it you would have of me?” I asked with my final wheezing winds.

“Oh I have what I wanted. As I said I only wanted a few minutes of your precious, precious time.”    

[luninosity]

Luni, you are a legend!

I’m not sure what prompted this random awesomeness, but thank you!! I feel appreciated! <3333

Hmm - want a piece of the Autumn Fluff Evanstan as a thank you? <3

#

Chris blushes. Pink washes over tiny golden freckles. Sebastian wants to lick each one. “I mean, you’re already here. You might as well…look around? If you wanted?”

 “You wouldn’t mind?”

 “Well…we’re a little busy, finishing up some stuff, but…you’re here to write about us, right? And if it’ll help…”

 “I don’t want to get in your way—”

 “Maybe I could show you the—”

 “What if I helped with—”

 They stumble over each other’s words and stop, looking at each other, simply looking, as the October sun slides lower. Chris Evans has beautiful eyes, framed by thick dark lashes: a deeper more saturated blue than Sebastian’s own pale sleet.

 He does know who Chris Evans is. Or who Chris used to be. Sebastian does his research—part of what makes him a good travel reporter, diving into people and locations and local culture—but in Chris’s case he’d barely needed to.

 Chris Evans, former actor, teen idol. Star of projects like Dream Date, Not Another High School Movie, Heavenly Eyes, Shove, and The End of the Game. Raunchy teen comedies, a romance, an attempt or two at action. He’d left Hollywood without explanation—rumor said everything from drugs to disillusionment—after the generally mediocre reviews of Shove, had come home, and had put his heart and his money into the family farm.

 Sebastian hasn’t seen all of Chris’s movies. But he’s seen a lot of them. He’s always thought that Chris Evans was a better actor than the material he’d been given. A good sense of timing, line delivery, commitment to each role, no matter what the role might ask him to do with a banana.

 And now Chris is standing in front of him like some sort of harvest god, dirt-smudged and hardworking and powerful and real. Sebastian licks his lips. Involuntarily, he’d swear.

 “You’d do that? Helping out?” Chris’s eyes take him in, looking him up and down. Sebastian’s wits, being looked at by Chris, promptly scatter.

 Being looked at by Chris, being evaluated by Chris, maybe being touched by Chris…being pinned down by Chris, pinned down and kissed hard and claimed and wanted, with the scent of apples in the air and the scrape of hay at his back, oh fuck yes…

 No. Dammit. The weight of his notebook, in his jacket pocket, tugs at him pointedly.

 “I mean, um.” Chris bites a lip, flushes more pink. “You’re not exactly…dressed for…I mean, at least you’ve got boots on, but, um.”

 Oh. Chris is judging his outfit. And his ability to help a local farm get ready for a harvest festival. Sebastian crosses arms. “I may not be a hearty homespun lumberjack, but I can carry heavy things. And I’m good at following directions.”

 Only slightly bratty. Oh, well: Chris’s expression’s worth it.

[chaotic-citrus]

Harvest in Honnleath

I have absolutely succumbed to the pumpkin spice season and am in deep fall feels right now, so I was inspired to write this shameless fall fluff by @cozy-autumn-prompts‘ Hot Apple Cider prompt and @oc-growth-and-development‘s OCtober prompt for Day 8: Festival! Enjoy some seasonally fluffy Cullen Rutherford x Evelyn Trevelyan! 

"Few celebrate the year's harvest quite like Honnleath."

When Cullen had spoken the words earlier, Evelyn had assumed it was little more than a case of hometown pride. However, as she took in the sea of decorative gourds so vast it nearly obscured the young children who wandered through it, the unyielding scent of cinnamon that permeated every inch of the small village, and a band so boisterous at times that she could hardly hear herself think, Evelyn finally saw the truth to his words.

Lanterns were strung between the homes lining the main square, candlelight bouncing over the revelry below as the sun's dying rays were swallowed by evening's arrival. A large, unlit pyre sat at the center of the square, the villagers having pitched all manner of tents and carts around it that each boasted their own promising aroma of a different delicacy within. Cullen had assured her that, despite appearances otherwise, most of these tents really just held different kinds of cheese (they were in Ferelden after all), to which Evelyn had (rather cleverly, in her opinion) responded, "I suppose some cheesy jokes are in order then!" Cullen hadn't seemed nearly as delighted by her joke as she had, and with a playful groan and roll of his eyes, he had walked off to fetch them something to drink.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is that something besides cheese? Isn't that sacrilegious for your kind?" she teased upon his return, an eager smile gracing her lips as Cullen gently placed a mug of warm cider in her outstretched palms. Taking a moment to attempt to think up another pun, Evelyn brought the mug to her lips absentmindedly, instantly realizing her mistake as she hissed and recoiled from the scalding liquid. Cullen did a terrible job of stifling his laughter behind his mug, which only grew louder when he caught the glare Evelyn shot his way, emerald eyes unamused and pink lips still stinging.

"Careful, I can't have the Inquisitor injured on my watch," he teased, blowing gently on the liquid in his own cup as if to demonstrate the proper technique for cider consumption. "Cassandra and Leliana could have my head for that, you know."

"Ah yes, a grievous injury indeed," she responded sarcastically, admittedly chuckling at her own clumsy mistake. "Should we call for medical attention? I dare say a head as handsome as yours would be a shame to lose." Cullen quirked a brow at that, lips twisting into a definitive grin as he leaned in a bit closer. "If I recall correctly," he began, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, "you're not supposed to apply pressure to a burn. With you talking like that, however, it's certainly tempting." At that, Evelyn watched his gaze fall blatantly to her lips, his warm chestnut eyes sparkling with mirth as she felt a rare blush prickling her cheeks at his forwardness. Blatantly pleased by the blush he'd managed to draw from her, he pulled away with a laugh and a smirk so handsome it bordered on insufferable. "How's that for cheesy?"

Evelyn felt a tug on her sleeve before she had the chance to respond, something that was likely for the best considering she'd opened her mouth before she'd had much of a witty response to deliver from it. Drawing her gaze from the spellbinding commander before her, Evelyn was greeted by a pair of young girls with enthusiastic smiles and arms full of more flower crowns she would've thought feasible for ones their size to manage carrying.

"Can we interest you in some of our fine flower crowns this evening?" the elder girl asked, gesturing to the crowns with a dramatic flourish as her younger friend did her best to display those she was carrying.

"These crowns make fine gifts indeed!" the younger girl added, spinning with the crowns in an act of showmanship Varric would've been proud of. "Crowns like these are the pride of Honnleath!"

"Are they now? Is there a story behind that?" Cullen asked, a gentle smile having settled across his features as he gingerly took the crown the elder girl was handing him.

The girls lit up at his question, both nodding enthusiastically before simultaneously shouting, "Of course!"

This was all the encouragement the girls needed before launching into a dramatic tale of a beloved statue that once stood at the center of town, one that with every passing festival was adorned with countless wreaths and decorations. After the villagers awoke one morning to its disappearance, the girls claimed the villagers eventually started to simply wear the decorations themselves, thus giving flower crowns their popularity.

Despite a cryptically muttered "I thought something was missing..." from Cullen as he looked around the square with a puzzled expression, the Commander returned his attention to the pair of girls as he fished into his pockets for his coin purse. Offering them a generous handful of silvers, he turned to Evelyn with a sheepish expression and flower crown in hand.

"I suppose I should've asked first, but-"

"Cullen, it's lovely. Would you help me put it on?"

The crowns were simple in nature, a smattering of white and purple wildflowers tucked haphazardly into a simple hempen braid to secure them. Cullen carefully placed the crown on Evelyn's head, meticulously placing the hair pins the girls had given him where he thought they'd be the most structurally secure. Fingers gentle every time he'd move her hair or slide a pin into place, he eventually stepped back and announced the completion of his work. The pride in his eyes as he watched Evelyn turn to a nearby window, moving to catch her reflection in its surface, was unmistakable as she let out an impressed whistle. While Evelyn had worn her fair share of intricate hairstyles to any number of balls at the Trevelyan Estate growing up, there was a charm to the clumsy attempt at weaving the flowers into her curls that she couldn't help but love. Satisfied with his work and clearly ready to proceed with the rest of the night, it was Evelyn's turn to stifle her laughter as the girls held out a second crown for Cullen before he could leave. Flushing slightly, Cullen did his best to dissuade the girls of his need for one, though all arguments seemed to falter when the girls pulled out their best wobbly lips and watery eyes. An increasing number of silvers lighter than it had been at the start of the night, Cullen eventually pulled his coin purse from his pockets again with a grumble, planting the flower crown on his own head with far less ceremony than he had Evelyn's as the girls skipped away, successful in their endeavor.

"Why do I feel like I've been swindled?"

"I think you look great. Very princely."

The distinctive sound of a blade striking flint drew Evelyn's attention next, one she knew well from countless nights huddled by a campfire over the course of her many Inquisition expeditions. Several had gathered around the unlit pyre she'd seen before, an older looking gentleman striking at a piece of flint rock twice more before a spark finally took to the massive pile of kindling. Drawn by the sputtering crackle of the growing flame, the commotion of the festival slowly died down as the rest of the villagers made their way toward the bonfire.

"This way," she grinned, giving a still-groaning-Cullen's hand a squeeze before falling into step behind the villagers, most of whom had queued up behind a set of large wicker baskets, each filled to the brim with... pine cones?

"They're for wishing," he explained, clearly having noticed her confusion as he plucked a pine cone for each of them from the basket. "I'm not certain what symbolism a pine cone has, but the wishing part likely started as a way to end the season of the harvest with a wish for another year of healthy crops. For as long as I can remember though, it's always just been tradition to end the Harvest Festival by tossing a pine cone into the bonfire and wishing for... well, whatever you want, really. I think I once wished for a growth spurt."

She laughed at that, the contrast between a gangly teen Cullen and the absolute snack of a man he'd turned into rather stark.

A moment of silence fell between them as Evelyn's laughter faded, both turning the pine cones over in their hands in quiet contemplation. Cullen was the first to break it, his voice soft as he fixed her with an attentive gaze that seemed ready to memorize whatever she said next.

"Do you have anything you'd like to wish for?"

She could still feel the weight of the coin he had given her the last time they’d been in Ferelden as she pulled it from her pocket, the gesture having been so kind she wasn't sure what more she could possibly wish for that he hadn't already given her. She flashed the coin at him with a wink. "What do I need a wish for when I already have all the luck in the world?"

Cullen chuckled at that, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck as he looked away with a flustered blush. "Yes, well... maybe I could commandeer your wish then, if you aren't planning on using it. Mine's hardly an easy request, so it can't hurt to use twice as many pine cones."

Intrigued, Evelyn wordlessly handed over her pine cone, cocking her head to the side curiously as she watched him turn to the fire. His voice was quiet as he spoke, wavering just slightly enough to betray how genuine the plea was as he murmured, "Maker, keep her safe."

Evelyn felt herself soften as she heard the care with which he spoke the words, warmth blooming in her chest and climbing up her neck to her face. For once, their complexions matched as he turned back to her, cheeks rosy for plenty of reasons beyond the glow of the fire behind him.

"Well,” he started, his tone light and teasing as his blatantly blush-stained cheeks twisted up into a mischievous smile. “I figure after the damage that cider did to you, you need all the help you can get."

She let out an incredulous laugh and a scoff as she readied for a retort, but Cullen was faster as he grinned and slid an arm around her waist, pulling her to him and silencing any argument with his lips on hers.

She supposed he was right after all - no one does a festival quite like Honnleath.  

[saharamae21]

Autumn Leaves (October Writing Challenge - Day 5)

Hey guys. I’m doing an October writing challenge - an imagine a day! Each will be supernatural, horror, or fall themed!! Here’s day two!

My challenge is subject to change prompts and orders as I see fit!!! (I’m using a number generator - not going in order)  The list I posted is simply a rough outline.

Word Count : 1434 Words

SO THIS IS MORE OF A RAFE IMAGINE THAN A KIE IMAGINE? I’M SORRY. This is based off of a piece I wrote in high school about a school shooting. It was a lot longer than this though (and better whoops, this sucks).

Warning: May be triggering to ready. Mentions of death, shootings, violence, etc.

________________________________________________

Your favorite time of year was when the leaves began to change colors. However, the Outer Banks didn’t look much different from summer to fall. It had its areas of autumn like scenery but nothing that actually gave the impression of fall. You had been used to miles of colorful forestry and endless amounts of leaves flying through the air. You would give anything to go on another hike through the forests.

You sat in the Kook Academy, wishing you were anywhere else. You daydreamed of the exerchanging leaves that used to fill your fall days. Kiara poked you playfully, telling you to pay attention. You smiled as she snickered and tried to focus your attention on the lecture. You couldn’t seem to do so though. Something had been off all day, you just couldn’t figure out what. Maybe it was because of the unusually rainy day outside. Maybe it was the empty chair in the back of the room. You could figure it out though.

When Mr. Jameson’s iPad went off, you knew something was wrong. When the color drained from his face, you knew that your gut feeling had been right. Something horrible was about to happen. Everyone watched as the teacher walked over and locked the door of the classroom. You opened your mouth to ask what was going on, but was cut off by the sounds of gunshots. A few people screamed out in horror, but the teacher told you to stay quiet. He had the boys barricade the door with desks and chairs before joining everyone else at the back of the room. Kie linked her arm with yours as you tried to process what was going on.

“No one is going to get hurt,” Mr. Jameson said. He looked at everyone with a serious expression. He was scared though, you could see it in his eyes. Your heart rate was through the roof, but there was nothing you could do about it. Someone was here and they were on a mission.

“Are you okay?” Kie asked you. You nodded even though you weren’t. You had a hunch of who was here and why they were doing what they were doing. You had to confirm your suspicions though. Carefully you made your way over to the window and peered outside. There was nothing unusual, just cars and a few scattered leaves. They fell from the tree outside of the school. You wondered how many students would fall like those leaves.

“Kiara?” you asked and she walked over to join you. “This is my fault.” “What are you talking about?” she asked. You could see the confusion on her face as she peered at you. Instead of answering you just pointed at a truck outside the window, Rafe’s truck. I thought about how you never should’ve broken up with him. You thought about how unstable he was and how much he needed you. “You don’t think…?”

She couldn’t finish her thought. She just stared at the truck outside and knew what was coming, who was coming. You knew that you had to get on top of this. You didn’t want anyone else getting hurt because of your mistakes. Kiara was your best friend in the world, so she instantly knew what you were thinking. You two had been through thick and thin together, so she was determined to make sure that you didn’t go through this alone. You felt her pull you into a hug as the reality of it all ran through your head.

“Y/n!” Rafes voice rang out. You could hear it ringing through the empty hallways. Everyone’s heads turn to face you. Looks of disgust and blame stared at you. You walked towards the barricaded door, but Kie stopped you. She begged you not to go out there, but you had no choice. The teacher told you that you weren’t allowed to leave. He grabbed you, but you gently removed your arm from his grasp.

“I can’t let anyone else get hurt,” you said, voice shaking in fear. “I’m sorry.”

“Where are you, y/n? I came all the way here to talk,” Rafe taunted. You took down the barricade with Kelce’s help and slipped out of the room. You walked down the empty hallway, hearing the footsteps echo around you. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as someone grabbed your wrist. You almost screamed, but then you saw Kiara.

“What are you doing?” you whisper yelled at your best friend. She smiled at you and told you she wasn’t about to let you do this on your own. You were walking into a death trap though. You knew that. You couldn’t have her coming with you. “Go back to the classroom now!”

“Is that you, y/n?” Rafe said, turning the corner to see you. He smirked at you. There was a horribly evil look on his face as he walked closer to you. He took his time though. He loved seeing you sweat. You pushed Kiara behind you and tried to stand your ground, but every ounce of you wanted to run. You can’t outrun a bullet though. “Do you see what you made me do?”

Tears filled your eyes as he told you that he needed you. He told you that everyone else’s opinions didn’t matter. He asked why you abandoned him. It broke your heart to hear him say that. The truth was that you could fix him. He was so messed up and it was starting to tear you apart on the inside. You weren’t capable of carrying his burdens. Maybe you should’ve tried harder.

“I-I’m sorry, Rafe,” you stuttered out. He looked at you and shook the gun in your face. He told you that he didn’t believe you. He told you not to lie to him.

“You never loved me! You just wanted to use me like everyone else!” he screamed. You shook your head vigorously. You loved him. You cared for him. Everyone saw how it tore you apart.

“Leave her alone Rafe,” Kiara said, showing no sign of fear. She even pushed him a little bit.

“You bitch,” Rafe said, cocking the gun. “I bet you were the one who told her to end things with me. You’re the reason we broke up.”

He had his finger on the trigger, ready to blow her brains out at any moment, but I wasn’t going to let that happen. She had been the one to give you guidance and tell you that you had to think of yourself first, but that doesn’t mean this was her fault. She was just doing what she needed as your best friend. You stepped in front of her and felt tears roll down your cheeks.

“Rafe, she had nothing to do with this. Please,” you said. You needed this nightmare to end. You looked down the barrel of the gun and he lowered it a little bit. You watched as he aimed it at your stomach. He wanted you to suffer. He wanted you to bleed out and be aware of what was happening the entire time. “If you wanna kill someone, kill me. Kill me please. But don’t hurt anyone else.”

“Deal,” he said. Then the shot echoed through the hallway. At the last moment, someone had pushed you. You fell to the ground, no bullet wound evident anywhere. Then you heard Kie groan though. You looked over and saw her laying on the ground, blood pouring out of her side. She had taken the bullet for you. You scrambled over to her as Rafe’s malicious laughs echoed through the halls. You pulled her onto your lap and applied pressure to her wound. You begged her to stay with you, your hands being coated with her blood. You screamed at Rafe. You screamed at him to realize what he had done, but there was nothing. Instead, he walked closer to you and cocked the gun. He pressed it against your forehead and asked if you had any last words. You didn’t though. You squeezed your eyes shut and waited for the gunshot to echo once again.

When it did, you felt no pain. Instead something warm splattered across your face. You opened your eyes to see Rafe’s body falling to the floor and cops rushing over to you from the opposite side of the hallway. You continued to apply pressure to the now unconscious key as the sound of the shot echoed through your ears. Everything was ringing. You were soaked in blood. Nothing would ever be the same again.

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[idaofinfinity]

Ascent

The books slow your climb;

Your elbows ache, yet you will

Leave nothing behind.

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I had bought probably 3kgs of books from Fnac in the Old Town and was loathe to leave my precious haul behind. So I carried all of them with me up the narrow winding staircase of the bell tower, and of course all the way back down again.

Original Photo, no filter.

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