Ruby Held A Hand To Her Mouth, Trying To Hold Back The Laughter. "Why Did You Even Leave The House In

He noticed her—just for a second, and then he couldn't look away. Among the shifting crowd, the flashing cameras, the hum of London life, there she was. A girl clutching a newspaper like it was a lifeline, her eyes wide with something between excitement and panic. Rory had seen that look before, but there was something different about this moment. Maybe it was the way her hands trembled slightly, or the way she seemed to be fighting an internal battle just to say something.

"Alright there?" he said, his voice warm, easy, like he wasn’t the reason her world had just tilted on its axis.

Her lips parted, and for a moment, he thought she might speak. Instead, she let out a tiny, strangled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a hiccup. He couldn’t help but chuckle, not unkindly, just amused, endeared. Something about her was different from the usual faces in the crowd.

"Don't worry, love," he said, still smiling. "I'm not gonna bite."

Closed starter for @littledaydreamers based on this:

The air crackled with an almost unbearable electricity. Ember clutched her phone so tightly, her knuckles were turning white. Outside the trendy London cafe, a small crowd had gathered, their whispers a constant hum against the backdrop of city noise. He was in there. Rory Murphy. The one whose voice had soundtracked countless late-night study sessions, whose lyrics had gotten her through heartbreak, whose goofy smile plastered across magazine covers had always managed to brighten her day.

She’d only come for a quick coffee before heading to her internship. Now, armed with a shaky determination fueled by years of fandom, she was lingering, pretending to read a discarded newspaper, hoping, praying, that he’d emerge.

Suddenly, the door swung open. A ripple went through the crowd, cameras were raised, and there he was. Rory. Even more dazzling in real life, if that was even possible. He grinned, a genuine, sunny expression that melted away the London chill. He signed a couple of autographs, politely answered a few shouted questions, and then started to move in her direction.

Her heart leaped into her throat. Her palms were slick. She wanted to speak, to say something, anything, but all that came out was a strangled squeak.

Closed starter || @butlerbarrow He dreams of being back in that trench. He dreams of all the bodies of his comrades. He dreams of their hands grabbing at him. Dozens of them were gangly, gaunt, and pale, with an air of death. They pull at him, dragging him down into the mud until he can't breathe. His own hands reach for the surface, clawing at the phantom fingers grasping his body. Everything is cold, black, and silent except for the muffled, anguished screams. Robbie thrashed in the bed.

His eyes snapped open, a strangled cry escaping his lips. He sat bolt upright, gasping for breath, his chest heaving with the terror of the dream. For a moment, the darkness of the room seemed to mirror the abyss of the trench, the silence punctuated only by the echo of his own ragged breathing.

Robbie was back in the convalescent home, the sterile white walls a stark contrast to the dark, muddy grave that haunted his dreams. The bandages on his shoulder and back felt like a second skin, a constant reminder of the hell he'd escaped. His head throbbed a dull ache that echoed the head injury he'd suffered. He could still see the faces of his comrades, their screams swallowed by the deafening roar of the explosion. The smell of cordite and burning flesh clung to him, a phantom stench that wouldn't leave.

Rory grinned, the kind of easy, lopsided smile that made his fans' knees feel unsteady. "Ember," he repeated like he was trying it out, rolling it over his tongue. "That’s a class name."

She still looked like she might either faint or bolt, and he found himself chuckling, not unkindly—just amused, endeared.

"Big fan, yeah?" he said teasingly, tilting his head slightly. "You sure? ‘Cause right now, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else than here."

He’d actually noticed her. Now he was looking at her. Ember felt the blood rush to her cheeks, warmth blossoming in her chest. Don't be ridiculous, Ember. He probably just thinks you're a weirdo staring at him.

She tried to speak, to conjure up the witty, intelligent greeting she’d practiced a thousand times in the mirror. Instead, a pathetic squeak escaped her lips. Ember cringed inwardly. Smooth, Ember. Real smooth.

Ember finally found her voice, though it was still shaky. "I...I just...I'm Ember. Big fan." The admission felt ridiculously inadequate, a laughable understatement of the devotion that consumed so much of her free time. She wanted to say more, anything to actually start a conversation but she was terrified of saying something even more stupid.

Rhiannon stepped onto the patio, her bare feet making no sound against the cool wood. She hadn’t used the door—too many people, too much noise—so the window had seemed like the better option. She paused at his words, tilting her head slightly as if considering them.

“We can't both use it?” she asked softly after a moment. She lowered herself to sit a few feet away, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The night air curled around her, cool against her skin, but she didn’t seem to mind.

After a pause, she glanced at him, her gaze calm but unreadable. “You don’t like crowds either.” It wasn’t a question. Just an observation, offered like a pebble dropped into still water to see how it would ripple.

open to: m/f/nb

connections: anyone

Kit's back was against the wall, his legs crossed beneath him as he sat out on the patio. He knew coming to this party wasn't the best idea, he'd only been here for an hour before needing to be alone. He'd tried a couple of bedrooms but people eventually came in to use it so he'd opted for the patio just off of the livingroom. His eyes were closed and he was steadying his breaths when he heard someone climb out the window onto the patio with him. "If you need to use this patio please let me know now so I can leave." He said, opening one eye to look at them.

a plot where...

a rough around the edges, con artist girl is doing dirty work for her shitty boyfriend and they decide to target a rich, wealthy, cocky sort of young socialite male who feels like his life is a bit empty and redundant, and she may seem like she’s in this con artist game for the money (and she is, partly, because she grew up really poor and knows how it feels to starve) but she also has an unhealthy attachment to the boyfriend even though he treats her like crap and uses her to attract rich males, and then, on the night where she has dressed up and come up with a fake name and is about to make her move on the rich young man she realizes oh, he’s actually extremely attractive and cute and not like the other creepy old men she preys on? and oh, he’s actually extremely charismatic and witty and charming and kind of a dick, but not to her? and oh, now they’re kind of going out on multiple really amazing dates and spending tons of time together and she’s supposed to be digging for his deepest secrets and finding out numbers to his safes and stealing jewelry pieces he probably won’t miss and then one night, her wallet falls out of her bag and… OH, why is her name not the name that she said it was on her drivers license and why are his personal, private cartier bracelets engraved with his initials in there too and who the fuck is calling her phone ??????

“we’re a little more than just best friends, aren’t we? so why don’t you just admit it, why do you keep pushing me against dirty walls of nightclubs and silencing me with maddening kisses whenever i tell you i love you?” give me this or die

Closed Starter for @bloodbared

In the dim confines of their new home, Jude huddled on the floor behind the bed in the oppressive silence that had filled the house all night. She still couldn't believe her father had forced this union on her. All her life, she'd strived to avoid him and his business, his violent lifestyle a constant shadow she desperately wanted to outrun. But somehow, she'd been dragged back into it.

She'd met Z a few times, enough to know their differences were as vast as the ocean, their mutual dislike a palpable tension in the air. The awkwardness of their first night together in the same house was a suffocating blanket, the weight of her father’s expectations pressing down on her like a physical force.  Jude wondered how long she could hide out in the bedroom from him before he'd attempt to look for her.

amoonlitmemory​:

Closed starter for @littledaydreamers​

“I’m sorry–” Niamh glanced down at the parchement unsure of what she was supposed to be looking at. “Are you sure this is meant for me? I– I don’t know what this is.” Having been self taught, she would never admit that when it came to reading her knowledge was only that of which she appeared familiar with. Yes, she could read words but that didn’t always mean she had a clear understanding of what things meant.

Tristan nodded affirmatively, a subtle gesture accompanied by a satisfying "Yep," the soft sound of the "p" popping. "Well," he continued, his voice filled with a hint of curiosity, "that's what it seems to be—a letter. If you'd like, I could read it aloud for you. The lighting in this room leaves much to be desired, but fortunately, I possess exceptional vision." With a compassionate gaze, he observed the writing before him, sensing the air of perplexity surrounding it. While illiteracy wasn't uncommon among the inhabitants of Nassau, Tristan understood the reluctance of many to acknowledge this fact openly.

"And what is this difference?" Brooke questioned, raising a brow. "Maybe I'll get you a bouquet of tulips accompanied by a box of dark chocolates as a down payment. But if you want a real thank you, I can teach you how to take care of a goldfish...Low maintenance, I promise!”

open to all! darius landon. forty three. he/him. bisexual. assassin & owner of the good company safe haven bar for criminals. son of the landon crime family.

"i'm not going to stop you from getting yourself killed." darius chuckled, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he rolled back onto the heels of his boots. "i will help you live though, if you ask really nicely. i'm partial to tulips, dark chocolate, and i can't take care of pets, but i am sure you'll find something good to thank me."

i am still here, promise, just been busy... will work on some replies tomorrow <3