sarah writes fic

punk-rock-science asked:

punky monkey, cosima is sarah's savior

Sarah stumbles, crashing down on her knees so hard that she cries out, digging her fingers into the sand beneath her as she groans, tears clearing perfect lines in the dirt smudged on her cheeks.

Her head is spinning, her eyes fluttering closed and, despite the desert sun, she feels impossibly cold; when Helena tugs on her arm, urges her to get up, to keep moving, to fight, Sarah wrenches free of her grip and curls up on the sand.

Until Cosima crouches beside her, looking almost resplendent with that blinding backdrop, taking her hand, running her thumb over the gritty, dry skin, and whispering, “Come home.”

It’s a Minific Kind of Night!

where dark woods hide secrets

Notes: Emma-centric. Some spoilers for future speculation. Slight AU. Canon CS and implied future CS. Title from the song ‘Touch the Sky’ by Julie Fowlis, from Disney/Pixar’s Brave.

Warning: Brief mentions of child abuse.

ffn/ao3


where dark woods hide secrets

Emma is three when a kind woman with golden hair takes her little hands in her own and whispers fervently, “Emma dearest, do you want to know a secret?”

And she nods, just as fervently, so wisps of her hair fall into her eyes.

“My darling girl,” the woman says, and runs her thumbs across Emma’s fingers, “there is so much beauty in this world, if only you take the time to look.”

And she spins a strand of ice and snow in Emma’s palm, glittering in the summer sun.

“There is magic, child, if you believe.”

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Beyond the Sea (CrissColfer Au)

Beyond the Sea
Rating:

Pairing: Chris Colfer/Darren Criss
Word Count: 21,632
Summary: Seventeen year old Chris is going on his first real vacation: A Disney cruise with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. What he expects to be a fun getaway of baby-sitting, waiting in line to get autographs, and avoiding the sun gets turned on its head when his family is seated with the Criss’s at dinner. Eighteen year old Darren, an experienced cruiser, suggests that he act as Chris’s tour guide for the week-long voyage, and Chris agrees, not realizing that seven days is definitely enough time to fall head over heels for someone. But will they have their Happily Ever After? 
Additional Notes: I have a few people to thank here: Alyssa for being the most perfect beta I could ask for, Lindsey and Cass for running the CCBB (See all of the wonderful art and fic here!), and Valerie for making a gorgeous piece of art for my silly little story.

Read the fic here!

See the art here!

2

victorious au → rich kids of instagram

Beck pulls his legs up onto the couch and crosses them, reaching back to tighten the knot in his hair while the joint he’s just rolled sits precariously between his teeth. 

“Christ, keep your feet off of the couch, would you, it’s a Montauk.” Jade shifts her champagne glass from her left hand to her right, using the now free hand to grab Beck’s leg, shoving it down. 

“Easy.” He warns, muffled as he pulls the joint from his mouth and makes sure he didn’t wet it too much, looking around impatiently. “Robbie, pass me a light, yeah? And stop pacing." 

Robbie crams his hands in his pockets to find a lighter while Cat crawls over Trina’s lap to dig through her own purse. "Xanax?” she offers helpfully to the curly-haired boy, but he waves her off impatiently. Jade holds her hand out to take his portion instead, and the redhead is more than happy to oblige, handing them out like candy.

“When is your sister getting here?” Jade snaps at Trina, before tossing back the little pills and smoothing their trip down with another sip from the champagne flute in her hand. 

“Hopefully in the next few minutes if she wants to pregame before the party.” Trina replies vaguely, gratefully accepting the now-lit joint that’s handed to her from her right. She takes a quick hit before passing it off to Andre, her voice muffled by the force of holding back her smoke as she speaks next, “She takes fashionably late to a new level. She’d be late to the after party if she could.”

“I’m here, I’m here!” the door swings open and the breathless brunette practically stumbles in, sighing heavily. “Car service was late. I brought party favours, though, in hope of forgiveness.” She holds up the little baggy and gives it a shake, the stark white powder loosely settling into the bottom corner of it. 

Jade snaps the bag away from her with a little glare. “Gift accepted. Get your driver sorted out.” she stalks away as Tori sighs in relief.

“You look a little stressed, is this just about the driver?” Andre asks from nearby on the armchair, taking another hit before passing the joint back to Beck. 

“Xanax?” Cat offers again, giggling as she falls into Robbie’s legs where he’s standing near to the couch.

“I - no, I’m fine. Just a little rushed.” Tori waves the redhead off, smiling at Andre and giving him a little nudge.

“How many of those has she had?” Jade pipes up, having settled herself on Beck’s lap, busying herself by setting up a few pretty little lines on the mirrored plate balanced on her knee.

“I don’t know, four, five?” Robbie replies, running his fingers through Cat’s hair while she clings to his torso, still giggling madly to herself.

“Take ‘em away. She can have the rest later.” Jade instructs, “I don’t want her passing out in the limo on the way, again, having to haul her ass around the country club was humiliating enough, I’m not going to hold her hair back in the bathroom of Cana.”

punk-rock-science asked:

punky monkey + "i hate the colour yellow"

“I hate the colour yellow,” Sarah utters, folding her arms and playing the bitter child, playing the dark and broody street rat she’s supposed to be.

But in reality, it makes her feel caged, trapped by four walls painted a colour that should be happy, that everyone tells her is happy, is equated with happiness; even Cosima grins at the idea of painting the walls yellow, adding brightness to the room.

But to Sarah, yellow is police tape around the quarry where she buried Katja, yellow is the light from the train that ripped Beth out of her life before she could say so much as a word, yellow is the hay in the barn where she’d holed up for a month one summer when she was young and stupid.

It’s a Minific Kind of Night!

anonymous asked:

Could you right an olicity where they fight and oliver says something he shouldnt have and felicty leaves crying and she gets hurt and ends up in hospital and oliver finally tells her he loves her. Ends well

Full disclosure, I tweaked this.

“Did you just-” A sob breaks through, choking the words off. A hand flies up to her mouth, like she can still take the sound back, make sure he never got to hear how much those words hurt.

Oliver’s eyes have gone wide with shock, disbelief that he could ever utter such a thing to her. He reaches out a hand, the need to make it better overwhelming.

“I didn’t mean that, Felicity, I’m-”

But Felicity is shaking her head and backing away from his touch, her breath coming in short, hard pants. It’s the adrenaline, she knows, her body’s reaction to her mind going into panic mode. His words are still echoing inside the cavern of her mind, each time they hit their mark sending another jolt of pain through her heart.

“I have to go.” she gasps, fighting uselessly to dam up the tears streaming down her face, clouding her eyes as she searches desperately for her keys. 

“Please don’t leave like this, Felicity.” Oliver says, his tone pleading, eyes edged in desperation. “At least let Digg take you home.”

“No, I-” She doesn’t bother finishing her sentence, catching sight of her keys laying beside her purse in the chair where she’d dropped them.

She grabs them up, huddles her bag into her chest as she darts around Oliver and nearly sprints for the door.

Once she’s outside she can breathe a little easier, her lungs still burning with the effort of each and every breath. She stumbles for her car, eyes blurry and hands shaking. She’s barely halfway across the parking lot when she drops her purse, has to squat down to shove everything back inside.

Oliver’s words are ringing in her ears, her own pulse competing to drown them out.

“Maybe we should call off the wedding, then! Because this clearly isn’t working for either of us anymore.”

Felicity is just pushing the last of her stuff back into the bag, so distracted by the weight of sadness, the pain pressing down on her that she doesn’t see it coming, doesn’t hear Oliver screaming her name until it’s too late.

The car hits her going too fast for a parking lot, and she’s blissfully unconscious before she hits the blacktop.

*

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Healthy Competition

Pairing: CrissColfer

Length: ~2000 words

This is a response to the CrissColferAUWednesday prompt gameshows. It kind of got away from me, as you can see.

It all started with a break in shooting and a lost remote.

The cast had been shooed back to their trailers, some kind of lighting issue that apparently took half the crew to fix. Lea and Chris had crashed Darren’s trailer, Chris for obvious reasons and Lea because, well, she was bored. Chris and Darren were cuddling at the end of his couch while Lea hunted for the remote.

“God dammit, Criss. Your trailer is by no means large. How the hell did you lose your remote?”

Darren looked up from where he had whispering in Chris’s ear to answer his costar.

“Oh, I haven’t used the remote for weeks. I’ve usually been a bit too distracted to watch TV,” he wiggled his eyebrows at Chris, whose smirk evolved into a snort, “and besides, I have a thing for Dick Clark.” He gestured towards the rerun of “$100,000 Pyramid” that was playing on the Game Show Network.

Lea shrugged and got comfortable on her end of the couch. It could be worse. They could be watching “Urban Tarzan” again.

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“My cat steals underwear and I come home to find you chasing my cat to get your underwear back.” - Michael/Ashton

hi hello so I need to get back into my flow and I have a little free time so I’m writing little drabbles from various prompts that I like. (If you fancy sending me one and a ship from any of these, though, go ahead!!) this is one of my favorites:

“what the fuck get back here you little shit”

It’s the first thing Michael hears when he arrives home that day, swinging his keys idly around one finger while he walks up the familiar little street, and he’s really hoping it’s not what he thinks it is.

“Listen” a voice says, rich and honey smooth, and Michael is certain he’s never heard it before. “I don’t care how cute you’re supposed to be, give me my damn pants”.

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castillollaurel asked:

"I’m so sorry that champagne bottle cork hit you when I opened it, I swear it was an accident and I’ll kiss it better" + CAPTAIN SWAN PLEASE AND MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR

“Oh shit! Shit, I’m sorry.”

“I told you, Swan,” Killian grumbles, a rough edge to his voice as he winces and rubs at the sore spot on his forehead. “You should have let me do the honors.”

Emma carefully pries his fingers away to get a better look, trying her best to hide her grimace. She does feel pretty crummy for hitting him (even if she isn’t sorry in the slightest that she snagged the champagne bottle from him to begin with; she trusts his aim about as much as her own). “And I told you that you have one hand and I have two.”

 "Lot of bloody good that did you,“ he murmurs with put-upon sulk.

His forehead now bears a red mark roughly the size of the cork, but it doesn’t look nearly as bad as she’d feared. "Oh, you’re fine. It probably won’t even bruise.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees, his pout conflicting with the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “If you kiss it better, that is.”

“Oh, come on, you’re not five.”

“It hurts,” he counters simply.

“You’re three hundred years old,” she says evenly, “and you want me to kiss your booboo better.”

“Give or take a few decades.”

She groans. “You’re impossible.”

“Incorrigible would be more apt.” His pout has given way to a wicked grin. “I’m still waiting, love.”

“Pirates,” she mutters, defeated, and leans up to press a chaste kiss against his forehead, only for him to pull her back down, drawing her lips against his as his hand cradles her cheek.

“You’re an ass,” she whispers against his mouth.

(The champagne goes flat before they get to it.)

.

so I took some liberties with the prompt oops. also I had originally intended to maybe add some sexytimes but that just didn’t happen sorry

Coming Back For You (Don't You Worry Girl)

Summary: Post-The Climb AU - What if Oliver really had died on that mountain ledge? What if Malcolm found him and brought him back by way of the Lazarus Pit?

What if Oliver came back, but he came back wrong?

*

Oliver returns to SC after coming back from the dead, but he’s missing one extremely vital part of himself: His emotions.

Preview: “Oliver.” she breathed, her lungs too tight. “That’s him, Digg. It’s him!”

Before anyone else could move so much as an inch, Felicity was flinging herself out of her chair and launching her body across the lair. She didn’t hear Roy or Diggle call out to her, couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood in her ears as her heart hammered against her ribs. Colliding with Oliver’s chest felt like slamming face-first into a brick wall, but his arms came up automatically to wrap around her back, holding her up before she could crumple to the floor.

“Oliver.” she gasped, voice tear-soaked and shaking as she clung to him, practically hung from his neck like a pendent and chain. “Thank God.”

He felt solid in her embrace, real, all hard lines and sharp planes. It took her a moment to notice, overwhelmed as she was with him simply being there, being alive. All at once, though, she realized he was tense beneath her hands, in her arms. His shoulders were tight, his arms stiff where they held her. It reminded her of when they first met, of the very first time she’d been brave enough to pull him into a hug. The way he held himself, all reigned in and stoic, made her heart twist uncomfortably.

He still hadn’t spoken, either, which wouldn’t have been all that unusual for the old Oliver, or maybe if he hadn’t just returned from the dead.

{AO3}

{FF.net}

Or, Read It Here: (Author’s Note under the cut)

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In Which Brian Is A Cockblock

Pairings: Crisscolfer

Words: ~700

Summary: Darren is really tired of Brian getting all of Chris’s attention. Based on this picture.

Darren loves kissing Chris. It’s probably his favorite thing to do.

He just loves putting his mouth on his boyfriend’s body, marking him as his own. It doesn’t matter where, really. His incredibly soft lips. The scar on his neck.  The small of his back. The adorably ticklish spot at the back of his knee. The list goes on and on.

The important thing is, right now, Darren’s lying on the floor with Chris, doing his favorite thing. Things aren’t really hot and heavy right now, Darren is exploring the bare chest underneath him while Chris scratches his head in a way that feels really good while checking his phone, but Darren’s completely content with that. Okay, maybe not completely. But he figures moving up to mouth over Chris’s nipple might get his attention.

He doesn’t count on something else getting his attention first.

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“Mm,” Snow hums, arching into her husband’s hand as it ghosts from her calf, past her knee and up beneath her slip.  Her husband.  It isn’t exactly a new title for him, but it’s official now.  Official-official.  Finally.  There is no denying that he is hers, and she’s about to show him exactly how happy that makes her when–


“Ow!”


Oops.


She bites her lip, holding laughter at bay as she reaches forward to soothe the fresh cut on his fingertip.  “I might have forgotten the dagger in my garter.”


“Just maybe,” he quips as she kisses it better.

anonymous asked:

Olicity at Dig and Lyla's wedding

Felicity is crying silently, trying not to draw too much attention her way as she watches Digg and Lyla say “I do.” She can’t help but think of Oliver, eyes sliding across the altar of their own volition.

Of course Oliver is already watching her, his expression soft and warm when Felicity meets it. Her breath catches in her chest, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks the longer she meets his eyes. She wants to look away, wants to pretend it doesn’t hurt to look into those eyes and know she can’t have the man behind them.

*

It’s not until later, when Felicity is being swung around the dance floor by one of John’s groomsmen, that Oliver appears out of nowhere, jaw hard and unforgiving as he glares at the guy.

Felicity tries not to laugh when Brian ducks away, letting Oliver step in as her partner. 

“Was that really necessary?” she asks, voice crackling a little with the sheer depth of emotions she’s trying not to let leak into her words. 

“Extremely.” Oliver murmurs, pressing in close and letting his lips rest just along the shell of her ear. “What if he’d convinced you to run away with him?”

“There was never any chance of that.” Felicity sighs, her cheeks going pink at the way her body reacts to Oliver, liquid fire pooling between her thighs. 

“Why is that?” Oliver asks, leaning back so that he can meet her gaze, eyes serious and more than a little haunted. 

Felicity takes less than a minute to deliberate, saying screw it all to hell and jumping in with both feet.

“Because the man I love is here, and here is where I will always be.” Felicity admits, the words trying to stick in her throat.

She can hear Oliver smile, sees it when he catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it up so she has no choice but to meet his gaze head on.

“He knows, Felicity.” Oliver says, the warmth of his voice resonating deep inside her chest. “Soon.” he promises, leaning in to brush his lips against hers. 

She’s not sure if it’s the truth, but just for the night, for now, she chooses to believe.

It Was Foolish To Come Here Tonight

Pairing: CrissColfer

Length: ~2000 words

This is a response to the CrissColferAUWednesday prompt childhood friends. The title is taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Seven hours, 12 minutes, and 34 seconds. That was how long until the fifth Harry Potter book was released. And Chris wasn’t going to be a part of it. His mom had said she would drive him to the nearest release party at Bookends, the independent bookstore in the next town, but then Hannah had had a seizure. Chris didn’t blame his sister. It wasn’t really her fault that he was sitting in an uncomfortable waiting room chair with a numb ass instead of at a midnight release surrounded by books and kids as nerdy as he was. It wasn’t her fault, but it still sucked.

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The air is still, the world calm.


Snow wakes to the chill of winter, barely warded off by the heat of Charming’s body pressed to hers.  She stirs, and he burrows further into the nest of furs and blankets, murmuring a faint complaint before drifting back into sleep.


He normally wakes first - a shepherd by birth, accustomed to rising early to tend the flocks and fields - but fatherhood weighs heavily on him, and she’s found him passed out at nearly every time of day, catching sleep whenever - and wherever - he can.


But there is no crying now; no urgent feedings or changing, only the quiet sound of Charming breathing, and the warmth of his fingers laced with hers.  Her family sleeps, and her heart is at peace.

smoakingswan asked:

Olicity + Roy&Thea on a double date (and they're bantering about who's the better couple) ❤️

“It’s hardly a competition.” Thea shrugs, smiling widely as she lifts her wine glass to her lips.

“Exactly.” Oliver nods at the same moment Felicity says, “Wait, what?”

“What?” Thea asks far too innocently, eyes wide and lashes fluttering.

Felicity narrows her eyes across the table, tilting her head just a bit off-center. “Are you saying it’s not a competition because debating who is the ‘better couple’ is ridiculous, or because you think we would lose?”

Oliver’s expression says he didn’t even think of it that way, but now that he is he’s judging his sister. Roy is rolling his eyes but trying not to smile, arm draped over the back of Thea’s chair.

“I didn’t say that,” Thea says, her tone playful and teasing, “you said that.”

“I did not!” Felicity argues, laughing. “God, you are just like your brother. Talking to him sometimes is like chasing my own tail.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be the one chasing your tail?” Roy interjects, one cocky brow arched. “That definitely doesn’t earn you any better couple points, guys.”

“Idiot.” Felicity snarks fondly, throwing a piece of her breadstick at him.

Oliver huffs a laugh, flipping Roy off before turning his attention back to his sister. 

“Let’s be honest here, Speedy.” he says, all charm and brotherly affection. “Felicity and I are clearly the better couple.”

“Mmhmm, and how’s that?” Thea challenges, propping her chin in her palm to await his winning statement.

Oliver just shrugs, leaning back in his chair, the picture of smug confidence. “Because I’m older and I said so.”

Midnight Snack

Pairing: Crisscolfer
Length: ~1k
Summary: Darren brings a late night snack into bed.

This came to be because Michelle mentioned eating Nutella with her fingers. Which led to talking about Darren eating Nutella off of his fingers. And voila.

Read on AO3

The bedroom’s dark when Darren inches the door open, trying to prevent the unavoidable squeak. Chris went to bed almost an hour ago, grumbling about a long day and a headache that just wouldn’t go away. Months ago, Darren would have protested. He probably would have picked a fight about how little time they get to spend together anymore, how Chris is bailing on their first free night in ages. But he’s learned since then, they both have, and time has taught them what’s important. To enjoy the little things, like being able to wrap their arms around each other almost every night. They’re both young, and insanely busy, and Darren’s come to a point where he can respect that, sometimes, they each need to be a little selfish, focus on their own well-being before each other’s. Not to say that they don’t look out for each other, they do, but they know their own limits the best.

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