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footprintsinthesxnd · 5 months

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Out of the Woods

So finally here is the fic to accompany the Liebgott Taylor Swift moodboard (as seen below) Pairings: Joseph Liebgott x reader. Warnings: swearing, gore (reader is a nurse), war themes

Normandy 1944

Joseph Liebgott had never been the easiest man to get along with, he was stubborn and opinionated and was built like a ticking time bomb, the slightest thing could set him off and that was the mistake Y/n made when she first bumped into him.

“Hey, watch where ya going ya shit head!” Y/n stumbled forward, her threadbare boots scuffing in the mud as she dropped the wooden crate of medical supplies, cursing as the valuable, clean bandages unravelled into the sludgy puddle. The path outside the aid station was a thick mire and often reminded Y/n of the way her father had reminisced about the trenches of the Great War.

“ I should watch where I’m going?” Y/n spat, narrowing her eyes at the paratrooper, “You’re the one who just cost first battalion half of their medical supplies.” Throwing the salvageable bandages back into the box in anguish, the crumpled lumps of clay-coloured cloth were no good now. Y/n wasn’t sure how she was going to break the news to Eugene; the medic wasn’t known for his anger but knowing their situation this would surely push him over the edge.

The paratrooper spun around to face her, his skin pale and dark eyes encircled by purple, “oh so first battalion got their own personal nurse now? No wonder those fuckers are so cheerful,” he sneered, oblivious of the accident he had inflicted and not bother to offer any kind of assistance as Y/n fumbled anxiously for the supplies.

“No, I’m distributing supplies to all the medics in each battalion of Dog, Easy and Fox company actually, but maybe when I find out which battalion you’re from I’ll conveniently skip them,” she snapped back, thrusting the waterlogged box aggressively under her arm, no longer concerned by the trail of sludge leaking down her white apron.

“Good day, Corporal.”

Holland 1944

The second time they met was no better. Joe had been injured on a patrol and his neck was bleeding profusely through the rudimentary bandage wrapped poorly in a limp scarf.

“Liebgott just let me look at it God dammit,” Y/n reached over, her nimble fingers trying desperately to remove the bandage from his neck but he flinched away. Her fingers barely brushed against the dressing as he shot up from his seat in a receptive, crumbling leather chair situated in the corner of the temporary aid station, having once been someone’s home that now lay abandoned and derelict.

“No, get off me. I don’t need your help. Where’s Doc Roe?” Liebgott snapped, and Y/n sighed elaborately; she was in no mood for this kind of attitude. There were eleven other men in the aid station who would all greatly appreciate being attended too.

“Doc Roe is dealing with other casualties. You got me or nothing.”

Liebgott snorted, “Guess I’ll just bleed to death then.”

Y/n protested but Liebgott had already shouldered his M1 and was making his way towards the entrance.

“Why won’t you just let me look at it?” Y/n hollered, a little louder than she had intended and alerted the other paratroopers.

Joe spun on his heels, his mouth-eaten jump boots, scraping the rough, wooden floorboards.

“I don’t want some woman half-assing a dressing because she wants to be part of the war effort. This is no place for a woman, it is a man's war,” he vituperated her, taking no notice of the stares he was receiving from his friends. “I don’t want your help,” his word was final and his boots were heavy as he departed leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

“I don’t know what his problem is with me, Gene,” Y/n sighed, as she finished unpacking the fresh medical supplies from one of the many crates from their much-needed supply drop. Her muscles griped, but soon relaxed as she finally took a seat on one of the crates; Y/n had been on her feet all day. “I don’t know why he hates me.”

Eugene's dark eyes followed her movements, sending a sympathetic smile her way as he dropped down beside her on the crates, “Liebgott is a hard man to read, ma Chérie.”

Y/n simpered, the right corner of her lips turning upwards at the nickname. Eugene, with his dark hair and kind eyes, had always been a striking character and the two were of one mind. His friendly but subdued nature seemed to draw people to him, making him a favourite within the company, including with Y/n who despite what other men in the Company thought was always a welcome hand by Eugene’s side,

“I just don’t understand why he hates me.”

“I don’t hate you,” the gruff voice caused the pair to turn; Y/n felt as though she may have whiplash from the speed at which she spun around, concerned by how much he could have heard from their conversation and worried that he would now think she was pathetic, lamenting about trivial problems. Joe, standing in the doorway leaning against his M1, seemed to have not heard the conversation or if he had he never made a comment. Instead, his dark eyes made their way towards Eugene, bloody bandages still pressed against the wound on his neck.

“Are you free to look at my neck now, Doc?” He asked, ignorant of Y/n presence - why should this be any different to any of their previous interactions? He stared blankly at Eugene.

“Sure, Liebgott,” Eugene stood up and moved over to his fellow paratrooper. “Take ya self a seat, I’ll grab ma things.”

Eugene disappeared, his heavy footfalls seemed to echo his departure and was the only sign Y/n needed.

“I’m going to head out, Gene. I’m shattered,” her hands fumbling into her musette bag, hastily stuffing the extra box of syrettes Eugene had given her into the inner pocket. Joe’s eyes seemed to dance after her, an unwanted shadow documenting her every movement. They followed her out of the door and even as her boots squelched unpleasantly down the track, her legs carrying her rapidly away from the watchful eyes. She couldn’t find it in her to turn around, to face him, too afraid of the glare he always sent her way.

Bastogne 1944

The Luftwaffe started dropping bombs around midnight. Y/n with blood encrusted under her short nails, had just finished her rounds, checking on all the wounded soldiers she had patched up during the day. The distinct whistling from above was her first clue that they weren’t going to have a quiet night. Like a deathly siren announcing the beginning of the end. Reneé appeared beside her, anxiety etched on her delicate features.

“We are in for a long night, Y/n. Grab what supplies you can.”

Y/n nodded, hurrying towards the store room when the first bomb whistled down on the church, shaking it from the rafters, dust falling in great clouds from the ceiling.

“Y/n, come quickly. We have to evacuate everyone.”

Along with the other nurses, Y/n helped Reneé evacuate the walking wounded first, sending injured soldiers into the snowy streets of Bastogne. Next came the more severely injured, hauled out on stretchers between two nurses.

“Y/n, stay out here with the wounded, check their wounds. We have to make sure no one has torn any stitches trying to escape. I’m going to try and get some more out,” Reneé called, hurrying back into the crumbling church with several other nurses hot on her heels.

Great flames billowed from the surrounding buildings, the night was ablaze with fire and smoke, and the earth shook with each eruption. Soldiers had started firing the Ack Ack guns at the aircraft above. The noise was deafening, a constant pounding over the top of the whistling bombs and explosions. Y/n could feel her heart pounding, a constant thumping in her ear reminding her that she was miraculously still alive.

The church was struck again and Y/n had to fight the urge to follow her friends into danger, but the wounded soldiers needed her. Lights flashed up behind her, illuminating the terrified nurse and her patients. She turned to see a jeep approaching, a wounded man strapped to the front wailing in agony, thrashing against his restraints. The jeep swerved to a halt and a figure came running towards her.

“EUGENE!” She cried out running to embrace her friend.

“Ma Chérie, are you alright?” Eugene hugged her tightly to his chest. Y/n couldn’t help the tears that began to fall, the growing emotions of the evening finally spilling from within her.

“Gene, Reneé went back inside,” Y/n sobbed, just as the third shell hit the church. They both watched in horror as the front of the church caved in, stone crumbling down into the street and blocking the entrance.

“NOOOO!” Y/n cried, thrashing against Eugene’s arms but he wouldn’t let go.

“No Y/n, please. There is nothing we can do. I can’t lose you too,” he admitted, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as they shared in their grief.

Joe sat shivering in his foxhole, the cold seeping into his bones in a way that the winter in San Francisco never could have.

“Hey Joe,” George called out, plonking himself down beside him. “How ya doing?” George shoved his scuffed leather boot against Joe’s clothed leg, prodding him like an impatient child.

Joe turned to him, “How the fuck do you think I’m doing, George? I’m freezing my fucking ass off in the middle of the woods for a CO who can’t even make a decision.”

“Alright, jeez. Sorry for asking,” George raised his hands in surrender. “We just got news from Bastogne.” George began, trying to gauge Joe’s reaction. “It was hit by the Luftwaffe. The aid station… it’s gone.”

“Oh fucking brilliant. Now if we get hit we ain’t got no aid station either.”

George swallowed quickly, “Y/n was in Bastogne.”

Any words Joe had thought of died in the back of his throat. His face went as white as the snow on the ground and he could feel the sweat growing on his palms, his stomach plummeting into his jump boots.

“Is she…?”

“I don’t know, Joe. Doc’s not back yet but I wanted to prepare you in case.”

“In case of what?” Joe snapped, standing from his foxhole and slinging his M1 over his shoulder in anguish. “And why should I care anyway? It’s not like I like her or anything.”

“Fucking hell,” George whispered under his breath. “Joe, when are you gonna grow some balls and admit you’re in love with her. Everyone can see it, including Webster and he’s oblivious to most things.”

It was true George had to spell it out to him back in Holland before he got hit.

“Webster sent a letter to Hoobler the other week asking if you’d finally told Y/n.”

Joe sighed, running his hand over his face, deep in thought.

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Hell yes. I bet even the Krauts on the other side of the clearing can see it.”

Joe nodded slowly, “okay. As soon as I find her I’m gonna tell her.”

George nodded, watching as his friend hurried away to check if Eugene had returned.

“Let’s just hope he’s not too late.”

Y/n groaned as she straightened her back, stretching after what seemed like hours of bending over to apply dressings, carrying wounded men to transport vehicles, and digging through the rubble to collect supplies. Her friend's bodies had been retrieved from the church and lay in a neat row under rough, army-issued blankets. Y/n couldn’t bring herself to look at them, couldn’t bring herself to accept their fate.

She had seen members of Easy Company coming and going. A few had been sent by Captain Winters to help, bringing with them more wounded paratroopers from the front line. Y/n was too preoccupied to notice the familiar figure approaching her, she didn’t notice until he grabbed her arm firmly and spun her around to face him.

“Liebgott!” She gasped, raising her hand to smack him. “What the hell is your problem? You scared me half to death.”

Joe looked a mixture of shocked and confused until his cheeks grew a bright red.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He seemed genuinely sorry but Y/n was too consumed by her emotions to think rationally.

“Well you did a darn good job of that didn’t you,” she snapped. “You know if you’re just here to be mean or make some rude comment then you can forget it. I’m not in the mood today. I just lost my friends.” Y/n knew she should not have snapped, it wasn’t Joe’s fault but all the emotions were bubbling up inside her and if she felt anymore pain her heart would burst.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Joe began, he reached forward to take Y/n hand in his own. It was warm, comforting and almost felt familiar, as if he had been holding her hand all their lives. She let him but watched in confusion by this unusual act.

“I’m so sorry about your friends, Y/n. I know this must be difficult for you. I’m here because… well when George told me the aid station had been hit I couldn’t think of anything else than making sure you were okay. Y/n I realised something and…”

“Joe, let me stop you right there. Why would you care if I was okay or not? Joe you hate me… and… and I’ve never understood why?” Y/n sobbed, bringing her hand to cover her mouth, muffling her whimpers into her bloody sleeve. “Why do you hate me, Joe? What did I do wrong?”

Joe’s heart shattered at the sight of the broken woman in front of him. Her shoulders shook violently and tears flowed freely down her dirty cheeks, smudge with ash and mud. She looked frail, weak even and Joe hated that he’d caused it.

“Y/n, I never hated you. Why would you think that?” Joe moved towards her, collecting her hands in his own larger ones once more and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Talk to me, Y/n. Please.”

“Well you always shout at me and… and you wouldn’t l-let me treat your wound and y-you avoid me all the time,” she stammered, looking up at him through tear-filled lashes.

“Oh Sweetheart,” Joe pulled her against his chest, his breath felt warm and tingly against her neck. Y/n had never noticed that he was only slightly taller than her and her head fitted perfectly in the crook of his neck. Her hands wrapped into tight fists against his jacket and she could feel his heart hammering against her hands. “I don’t want you to ever feel like that again.”

“Joe…”

“Shh Mein Liebling, it’s all going to be alright now.”

Austria 1945

Y/n had never dreamed that she would get to visit Austria. It seemed as if it was a world away from the likes of Bastogne and the horrors of war. Its tranquil, turquoise lakes and steep mountains with their snow-covered peaks seemed the pinnacle of the landscape. Work had become scarce too, other than the occasional scrape or sprain it had mainly become stock control and arranging supplies to be sent to the Pacific where the fighting had yet to cease. Y/n knew that both herself or Joe could be sent to the Pacific at any time it was inevitable, and neither of them was going to get through the war unscathed.

For now, they were at peace and in the comforts of her room, under clean sheets with her legs tangled in Joe’s and her head resting on his chest, Y/n couldn’t help but feel at peace. The steady thrumming of his heart and the gentle rise and fall of his chest coaxed her too and from sleep in waves. She didn’t want to move, afraid that she would disturb her sleeping paratrooper but at the same time her legs had gone numb hours ago and she could feel the pins and needles begin to prickle their way up her legs.

“Joe?” She whispered, reasoning her hand cautiously to brush a stray brunette lock out of his eyes. Joe’s nose wrinkled and he screwed his eyes shut tighter with a sigh. Y/n smiled as she watched him stir from his slumber. It was one of life’s greatest pleasures to see Joe so relaxed, so at peace even if for just a while.

Joe moaned, his long lashes fluttered against his cheeks before they opened revealing his chestnut orbs.

“Good morning Mein Liebling,” his voice was gruff and sleepy but the smile on his face said that he was more than conscious enough to show his love.

Y/n smiled back at him, “Good morning handsome. How did you sleep?”

“It’s the best night's sleep I’ve had in a while, although I don’t recall much bc sleeping happening.” Joe grinned and Y/n's cheeks grew bright red at the thought of last night’s activity. Glancing around the room there was evidence everywhere. Clothes strewn across the floor, the mirror hung lopsided on the wall, the desk was cleared of any objects and the paper that had once occupied it lay across the carpet.

“I have to admit it’s the most enjoyable night I’ve had in a long time,” Joe admitted, tangling a lock of her hair around his finger.

“Me too,” Y/n admitted and Joe smiled once again.

“What does it mean? Mein Liebling?” Y/n asked, running her fingernails slowly over his exposed chest.

Joe laughed, “my darling. It’s been your nickname for a long time.” He admitted his cheeks rosy and his smile nervous.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been calling you that for far longer than you’ve realised. I just didn’t want anyone to realise I was talking about you. Figured the other guys would give me hell about it.” Releasing the lock he’d wrapped around his finger, he sat propped up by his elbows so he could face her.

“Y/n, I need to ask you something and it’d be real nice if your answer was yes.”

Y/n sat up now too, her expression a mixture of anxiety and confusion but the soft smile on her lips encouraged him to continue.

“Y/n will you come home with me, back to Chicago I mean? I can get my old job back at the cab company and we can buy a big house…” he paused a grin spreading across his lips. “A big house with lots of rooms, for all the little Liebgotts we’re gonna be making.”

Y/n laughed, smacking Joe’s arm.

“You’re lucky you’re good looking Liebgott.”

“Am I taking that as a yes?”

“Yes, you can.”

Joe grinned at her, his cheeky little smile followed by a little laugh causing Y/n’s heart to swell beyond what she thought was possible. Wrapped in Joe’s arms in their little room in Austria Y/n realised that maybe they were finally out of the woods.

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @lieutenant-speirs @sharpshootershifty @liberteuniteegalite @msmercury84 @desert-fern @mayhem24-7forever @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @merriell-allesandro-shelton @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @mutantmanifesto @malarkgirlypop

#joseph liebgott #joseph Liebgott x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers easy company #hbowar

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hiya-itsamber · 30 days

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✮ amber's 18th hoedown!

✩°｡⋆┊ INTRO ! ❞

⤷ holyyy shit! i'm turning 18 this week, so to celebrate i'm hosting my first ever event, and you're all invited!! cowboy themed as always, are we surprised at all? come send in asks, as many as you want. (find my nav here)

✩°｡⋆┊ RULES ! ❞

⤷ all followers and moots are free to join in ♡ ! ⤷ send in as many asks as you'd like, just keep it to one event prompt per ask, thank you! ⤷ pls be patient with me, i'll take a hot sec to get around to all the asks but i promise i'll get them done over the month !! ⤷ will run from 18th of march to the 25th of march!

✩°｡⋆┊ EVENTS ! ❞

➴ our song ⤷ i'll give you song recommendations for each letter of your name

➴tim mcgraw ⤷ i'll make you a moodboard based on your vibe! or request a specific moodboard that you'd like

➴ tennessee orange ⤷ i'll share a sentence or two from one of my wips

➴ bonnie n' clyde ⤷ i'll plan us a date to go on together ♡

➴ jack daniels ⤷ send me an ask game like kiss marry kill, two truths and a lie, emoji translations, would you rather etc. etc.

➴ brown eyes, baby (moots only!) ⤷ send in a fandom of your choice (you can use this list if you're stuck), i'll tell you which fictional character you remind me the most of

➴ county lines (moots only!) ⤷ i'll assign you a specific song that you remind me of + a little blurb as to why (trust me all of you remind me of a specific song)

➴ love story (moots only!) ⤷ send in a fandom (you can use this list if you're stuck) and i'll ship you with a character + a list of 3-5 head canons, and a 100-200 word blurb for you!

ˋ°•*જ⁀➴ tagging some lovely moots: @mayfieldss, @fens-mire, @seaveysoceaneyes, @heliads, @urbanflorals, @chilling-seavey, @perseephoneee, @sturnioloshacker, @the-girl-who-cried-wolf, @ameliapondmd, @sunflowermotel, @xandershifts, @thatswh3n, @ghostbusterscantcatchme, @faerieroyal, @wild-and-fluorescents, @dominque, @realitycanbewhateveridesire, @shiftingwithhale, @oneirataxia-girl, and of course, all my other lovely moots and followers <3

#✮ amber's 18th hoedown!#amber shut up #events

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mayfieldss · 5 months

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holiday celebration!

Merry ficmas everybody! I really wanted to host a sweet little christmas themed event this year that everyone can participate in whether they celebrate or not! I hope everyone has fun with this as we get ready for the holidays <3

Celebration begins on the 26th of November and ends on the 10th of December

RULES:

anyone can participate!

No smut (i'm trying to keep Christmas family-friendly guys)

Be kind

Have fun!

Presents - send in a character, and i'll make a moodboard on what it would be like to spend Christmas with them.

Secret santa - send in a Christmas themed concept / prompt and a character, and i'll write a short fic for you. (Please specify whether you want the dynamic to be romantic or platonic)

Under the tree - send me your favorite Christmas activity and a few things about yourself, and i'll ship you with a character!

New years Day - Send in cym, kmk, and other ask games, or just send me your New years resolutions!

Happy holidays!

Blog navigation found here!

Tagging some of the moots:

@hiya-itsamber @heliads @faerieroyal @winter-soldier-vibes @moonriseblueeyes @happinessinthedarkesttimes @fens-mire @perseephoneee @book-place @evermoresversion @madelynie @thrutheburnout @writeroutoftime @carmybearzattos @zablife @thebearer @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @writingjjfics @huntingingoodwill @viawritesstuff @sparksssflytv @eternltys @politemagic @danversxwasabi @reidsbookclub

#holiday celebration 🍾#eva rambles

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theriverwild · 7 months

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Ch. 4) Take Me To Church

Title artwork by the amazing and talented @klynnvakarian!

Moodboard by the amazing and talented @scriberated!

I couldn't decide which to post first so here they both are!

Thank you for being brave enough to wade into the mire with me!

#dead dove fic #very dead dove #it died #the dove #dark!fic #very dark!fic #heed the tags #kingdom of rust #trop fanfic #trop fanfiction #it gets better #haladriel #saurondriel #galadriel x sauron #sauron x galadriel #18+ minors DNI

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 year

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Apple of my eye

This beautiful moodboard has been made by @sorisooyaa, my beloved baby...

In an attempt to break me out of my funk, here comes a little Ori story from the sweet sheet of the @fellowshipofthefics February Bingo.

Words: 1.5 k

Characters: Ori x reader

Prompt: Kissing in the rain

Your thoughts were flickering in and out of focus as you stared at the raindrops running down the opaque windowpane beside you despondently.

The weather had been rotten for days and you yearned for sunshine and blue skies with almost childlike fervency.

“What I wouldn’t give for a sweet, golden apple,” you sighed, well-aware of how whimsical and random that thought was, and leaned your head against the cool glass.

Rainstorms always made you feel profoundly lonely; they were meant for lazy cuddling by the fire and self-indulgent poetry readings. Unfortunately for you, the one who insidiously crept into all of your daydreams of sweet, innocent togetherness seemed stubbornly oblivious to your affections and so, you were doomed to petulant moping instead.

The slamming of a door interrupted your morose thoughts suddenly, and you looked up in surprise; surely, nobody would dare brave the vicious downpour when nightfall was so close at hand. You were, after all, well supplied and there was no good reason to venture forth at this hour.

“Lassie,” Dwalin grumbled reproachfully, “take a care what you wish for!”

Startled, you scanned the room and soon realised that it was indeed Ori, the very person you had been musing about so miserably, who had left the shelter of the small hut you were perched-up in together until the storm had abated.

“What is he thinking?” you exclaimed in dismay, springing to your numb feet in alarm.

“You’ve asked for some fruit, so he went to get you what your heart desires.”

“Nonsense!” you opined vehemently. “Why would he do something so recklessly thoughtless? He’ll get mired down in the mud or lose his way in the blinding rain! What my heart desires…and he leaves, really!”

Kíli gave you a long, dumbfounded stare, his unwavering disbelief starkly evident in every single line of his face.

“Ori would try to unhook the moon and pick stars like flowers for you,” he eventually said and shook his head regretfully. “Not that it has done him much good thus far.”

The heat of indignation and of disappointed love rose into your cheeks as you strode towards the door without sparing a thought or word for the unduly forward prince.

“Bloody fool,” you cursed. “Thrice confounded idiot!” Without paying any further heed to the astonished faces turning towards you in your passionate outburst either, you threw open the door and rushed out into the onslaught of icy water fearlessly.

Immediately, rivulets of stunning cold made their way down your spine and permeated your clothes as you advanced, tottering, towards the nearby line of fruit trees on unsteady feet.

This might well have been a mistake, you conceded, but you were too proud and decided to turn back now like a beaten cur.

Soon, you could make out the beloved silhouette of a small, dainty being – leaning forward to defy the vengeful violence of the sheets of rain driving him back – moving resolutely under the shadow of the dark trees.

“Ori!”

He turned around, wiping one hand over his eyes to clear his vision.

“What are you doing? Come in! It’s raining too much for you to go trudging off alone; it’s not safe.”

With a small, slightly quivering smile, he let his other hand shoot forward and – as his stiff fingers unravelled – you could discern a beautiful, golden apple lying like an unlooked-for treasure in his palm.

“I just…you said..” Ori grimaced and took a step towards you, his offering still stretched out reverently in front of his drenched and wretchedly trembling body.

Before you could either chide or thank him, he slipped on a treacherous spot of deep mud and fell hard.

“Ori!” You hastened forward, instantly losing your balance as your foot caught on a stone that had been obscured by the churned-up earth, and slithered into him on your hands and knees. “Are you okay? Oh, you shouldn’t have!”

Overcome by worry and love, you started patting his legs and arms – checking your hands for blood every other second – in a public display of attachment you would have been deeply ashamed of if anyone else had witnessed it.

“I just wanted to make you feel better,” Ori finished his previous thought quietly. “You looked so very sad because of the rain.”

“The rain?” It was true that you were not overly fond of overcast weather, but it had not really been the storm that had soured your mood. Maybe, you thought, it was time to tell him the truth; for once, you were perfectly alone and – surrounded by a veil of water – you truly felt as if you were the only people left alive in a world made of fury and darkness.

“I have tried to make you understand how much you mean to me for weeks now,” you confessed, crawling up over his prone body and staring longingly into his wide eyes. “It was the lack of a favourable reaction from you that has dampened my joy.”

Ori blinked in confusion. “That is highly irregular,” he finally said. “I might be slow, but I am steady; thus, I have dutifully studied your glances and smiles and I’ve memorised every one of them to make sure that I was not deluding myself.”

Proffering his apple once more, he blushed furiously. “I would have fulfilled your every wish, proving myself to be caring and reliable and then, a few months hence, I might have gathered the courage to present you with a token of my undying affection, made by my own hands and accompanied by a long letter of confession.”

He looked positively distraught now, wiping at his wet hair falling into his beautiful face periodically and gazing up at you with imploring intensity. “Never would I have guessed that my reticence would cause you pain. You must believe me when I swear that this was never my intention!”

You wanted everything he had described, of course, but you desired him more; you were restless and wet, and consequently good manners and wise precaution were not foremost in your troubled mind at that moment.

“Tell me true, Ori dearest, do you reciprocate my helpless infatuation then?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed, obviously scandalised by the minute flicker of doubt in your expression. “How could I not? Take this apple as a proof of my devotion; you yearned for sweetness and sunshine, and I’d stop the very rain from falling if only the depth of my love could tear the heavenly veils.”

“Sweetness,” you mused with a smirk and leaned forward to press your lips onto his brow. “I accept what you are offering, my darling.”

That face you had been dreaming about for so many days and nights was tilted up ever so slightly and your heart understood the cautious invitation before your mind could even make sense of everything that was happening; your lips wandered across his freckled cheeks and along his soft, bearded jaw to land softly on that expressive mouth you so admired.

It was still raining hard and, every so often, you tossed your head back to draw a deep breath to avoid drowning in your greed and the abundance of water battering your back unforgivingly, but – now that you had Ori to yourself – you couldn’t stop kissing him until you were light-headed with giddy triumph.

“You’re soaked,” you finally laughed, leaning your forehead against his, “and so am I. Let’s go in and dry off; I am more than willing to share my bedroll with you until we’re warmed up again.”

His golden eyes flashed with hints of amber and onyx as he realised that you were the only one allotted a separate chamber for privacy reasons; he had never set foot in that forbidden room and the thought of being secluded with you in so intimate a manner made his blush deepen and his fingers tremble.

“Highly…” he started.

“Irregular? Indecent? Tempting?” you supplied with a wink and scrambled to your feet cautiously, grabbing his hand and pulling him up alongside you.

“Yes!”

“Well, you’ve risked your health and happiness to get me an apple,” you grinned. “I would be remiss indeed if I didn’t risk my reputation and integrity to show myself appropriately grateful.”

Once more, he looked highly bewildered by your forwardness, but he followed you back to the cabin without saying another word.

“Ah, you’re alive!” The members of his company – friends and kin – seemed both relieved and amused by the muddy, drenched, pathetic sight of your victorious return.

“Indeed,” you said, still dragging Ori by the hand and presenting your apple proudly. “We shall now retire to clean up and to celebrate the successful foray of our dearest Ori.”

You disappeared into the small room at the end of the hall under a hail of hooting and hollering; someone wisely prophesied that Ori would end up marrying you and someone else – Kíli if your ears did not betray you – predicted an outcome of a much lewder variety.

If you had any say in the matter, as you hoped you would, you’d prove each and every one of them right before long.

So, special thanks to my darling baby for this beautiful edit...

And thanks to @fellowshipofthefics for the lovely prompts and the support.

Lots of love from a very sad little me!

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #fotfics february bingo #february challenge #prompt: kissing in the rain #The Hobbit #Ori #ori the dwarf #ori propaganda #ori x reader #ori my beloved boy #sweet and kind #no spicy

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electropeach · 2 years

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RotE Ladies Big Bang 2022

Hello everyone! I’ve been MIA from a lot of fanworks spaces for a while, but with everything that’s going on in the world, I feel like it’s time for another round of RotE Ladies Big Bang. What’s that, you say? Only the second coolest event in the Realm of the Elderlings fandom (the first being, of course, the fantastic Winterfest gift exchange)!

In May 2020, my friends and I talked about how much hate Molly and the other ladies in The Realm of the Elderlins get in some parts of the fandom, and how we found that incomprehensible because this series is just wall to wall full of gorgeous, human female characters. RotE Ladies Big Bang 2020 was born as a result, and I encourage everyone to take a look at the tag #rote ladies big bang 2020 or #rlbb2020 because we were blessed with lots of truly fantastic fanworks.

Last spring I was too mired in real life business to do a repeat, but this year we’re back with vengeance! So once again, I'm proposing a Rote ladies appreciation month: 30 days of fanworks and meta starring the lovely female and female-presenting characters of the Realm of the Elderlings!

Last time I went into hosting an event without any prior knowledge of how to do so, and I continue to go into it absolutely clueless, so bear with me. As that implies, this is a super casual event: there’s no need to sign up, and you can contribute as much or as little as your time and energy levels allow - even if it’s just a sketch, we’d love to see it. 💜

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WHAT: RotE Ladies Big Bang 2022, 30 days of celebrating these amazing characters being badass and sweet and strong and vulnerable and everything between

WHEN: You can start creating immediately and keep going all through June, but posting for the event happens June 1st to June 30th 2022

WHY: Because complex and human female and female-presenting characters in fantasy literature deserve more love!

WHO: Anyone, everyone! Especially you!

HOW: Any way you wish. Fanart, fanfic, podcasts, podfics, meta, crafts, moodboards, scrapbooks, photo edits, gardening done like Patience would do it... Anything goes! Giving everyone else’s works some love is also a valid and extremely welcome way to participate. 💜 Below is a set of prompts for those who want them, but you can work outside them, too!

WHAT NOW:

1. Choose one of the following:

A) Pick a prompt, or several, and get creating! There are 24 prompts, but you’re not expected to fill them all (although you can, if you wish!), they’re there just to help people with ideas. You can choose as many or as few as you like, or make several fills for the same prompt. See a prompt you like but someone already filled it? That’s fine, multiple fills are absolutely welcome!

B) Can't pick a prompt? Message me and I'll choose two for you!

C) Got ideas of your own? Run with them!

2. Create! Go wild!

3. Between June 1st and June 30th 2022, post your work on your preferred platform (Tumblr, Instagram, AO3...), and remember to post/link it here, too, under the tag #rote ladies big bang 2022 and/or #RLBB2022 for everyone else to admire and love!

Here be the prompts (for those of you who want them):

#rote #Realm of the Elderlings #rote ladies big bang 2022 #RLBB2022 #all the rote ladies #molly chandler #bee farseer #malta vestrit #kettricken #Patience Farseer #amber #Nettle Farseer #althea vestrit

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saintsenara · 1 year

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one year in every ten - the masterpost

harry potter/tom riddle explicit | no major warnings apply

a decade on from the battle of hogwarts, after ten years of the wizarding world thinking it's safe, a serial killer emerges, leaving a trail of dead women in his wake. each of the bodies bears a gruesome, encoded message for the aurors... a message which - once unscrambled - claims the dark lord has risen again. in the face of the mystery, the order of the phoenix is hastily reformed, ron is stoic, hermione is scared, ginny is getting very good at putting on a brave face, death eaters who were never caught are getting ready to crawl out of the woodwork, and the ministry of magic has plenty of secrets of its own for kingsley to worry about... all harry wants is to distract himself from a marriage falling apart at the seams. all lord voldemort wants is to get out of the horrible place between life and death. so much so that he's willing to agree to help his old enemy solve the case. or so he claims.

read from the beginning here

chapter summaries: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 author's notes: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 moodboards: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 playlist | reading | answered asks

this is a detective story.

and it is, like all detective stories, about the investigation of a crime. but, like all detective stories, this is not the only thing it's about... one year in every ten is an homage to - in my humble opinion - one of the greatest forms of literature: golden age detective fiction. think sherlock holmes, hercule poirot, peter wimsey, miss marple and so on... this sort of crime fiction often seems - on the surface - to be quite light-hearted, and to focus on a sort of whimsical, eccentric crime [aristocrats glamorously poisoning each other, and so on] which is far removed from the reality of violence. but behind the eccentric investigators, scheming criminals, dissolute toffs in their secret-filled houses, clues, and red herrings, the detective fiction written in the first half of the twentieth century - especially that written by women - has a great deal more to say about topics such as gender, class, politics, the police, journalism, grief, anger, remorse, and the weight of history than it's often given credit for. and this story attempts to do the same.

it's a story about how the wizarding world has recovered from the war. and how it hasn't.

one year in every ten takes place a decade after the battle of hogwarts, in a world which thinks that it's moved on from the horrors of voldemort's second war and that all is well. if the daily prophet is to be believed, the sun hasn't stopped shining since the day the dark lord dropped dead: the economy is booming; prejudice has been eradicated; the grieving have been comforted by seeing justice done, and harry potter is perfectly content to live happily ever after. but maybe the truth behind the fairytale ending is a little more complicated...

it's a story about how getting the future you actually want requires dealing with the weight of the past.

one year in every ten is a story about the fact that the war had complex causes which can't be easily eradicated, and a ministry which pretends that they have been is doomed to continue in the mire of institutional corruption, even with a good man in the minister's office. it's a story about the people who have been left behind by justice, and about the problems with vengeance, the exhaustion of anger, and the trouble with forgiveness. it's a story about interrogating the decisions and regrets of the past, and about coming to learn that your enemies are real people, capable - even if only occasionally - of goodness. it's a story about being honest about who you really are and who you'd really like to be, and about what it takes to change yourself. it's a story about families, blood or otherwise. it's a story about death, and about life.

it is also a love story.

#asenora fics #tomarry #harrymort #harry potter #tom riddle #lord voldemort #one year in every ten #oyiet masterpost

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