#vcmedia

OOC; Hello, friends! Welcome to a concept I came to know through the amazing Dreamwidth community at @vcmedia called Drabbles Dimanche! Some of you already know this, some of you were even on vc-media, but here are the rules:

A collection of words will be given, each Sunday, to inspire and delight you. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write VC inspired drabbles using only those prompts!

-Each prompt = 100 words. You may use the prompt more than once, but count carefully.

-You must include the prompt word itself within the body of your drabble. You may use conjugations of said word, depending on what it is.

-Drabbles are little snippets of fan fiction; they can be serious, ridiculous, AU, canon-compliant, whatever makes you happy!

-Follow the tag: #VCDrabblesDimanche, and that way you can read people's drabbles.

This Sunday's prompts are:

Midnight

Token

Blood

Theatre

When he was very small, too small to be more than a warm bundle in her arms, she had begun to whisper to him in Italian.  With this child she had refused to have a wet nurse—this was the first and the only to sleep and suckle sweetly at her breast, his little milky mouth grasping at her, his hands caressing her absently, patting her gently before his eyes closed into a world of soft infant dreams.  And so it was that she held him to her, softly murmuring the language of her thoughts to his small pink ears, creating within him a keeping place for her memories and her precious lost Naples.  

When he grew older, too old to be held or petted, she could not help but wonder what, if anything, he had retained of her lyrical secrets.  Occasionally she’d catch a slipped word in another language from his child-speak, his syntax already questionable at an early age.  He seemed confused sometimes, not sure if there was a difference between sognare and rêver, mixing his tongues into an amalgamation which only she seemed to comprehend.  

LISTEN HERE.

Boyd x Lila Playlist 001

Where’s My Love by SYML

Cold sheets, oh, where's my love? / I am searching high / I'm searching low in the night / Does she know that we bleed the same? / Don't wanna cry but I break that way / Did she run away? Did she run away? I don't know / If she ran away, if she ran away, come back home

Before You Go by Lewis Capaldi

Fell by the wayside, like everyone else / I hate you, I hate you, I hate you / But I was just kidding myself / Our every moment, I start to replace / 'Cause now that they're gone / All I hear are the words that I needed to say / So, before you go / Was there something I could've said / To make your heart beat better? / If only I'd have known you had a storm to weather

Good Enough by Maisie Peters

I guess I took it for granted / You'll bury me someday / All the big plans that I planted / While you planned your own escape / Never thought I was the greatest / But I was great for you / Just assumed I was your favorite / With no one else to choose

Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Sloan

Never got the chance / To say a last goodbye / I gotta move on / But it hurts to try / How do I love / How do I love again? / How do I trust / How do I trust again? / I stay up all night / Tell myself I'm alright / Baby, you're just harder to see than most / I put the record on / Wait 'til I hear our song / Every night I'm dancing with your ghost

You Broke Me First by Tate McRae

I know you, you're like this / When shit don't go your way you needed me to fix it / And like me, I did / But I ran out of every reason / Now suddenly you're asking for it back / Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve? / Yeah, you could say you miss all that we had / But I don't really care how bad it hurts / When you broke me first

Love Is Gone by Slander (feat Dylan Matthew)

I’m sorry, don't leave me /  I want you here with me / I know that your love is gone / I can't breathe / I'm so weak / I know this isn't easy / Don't tell me that your love is gone

(this drabble was written for @vcmedia‘s Drabble Dimanche. Publishing it here because it ought to be clear who the protagonist and babe are.)

She’d been looking out the window for hours, book balanced upon her belly, when the first pains came. By now, she knew not to panic, that there would be time before anything of consequence might happen. She did not bother to call the girl to her rooms to help her, but set the book down beside her and placed her hands upon her swollen belly, closing her eyes against the cutting tremors.

It was cold for November, far colder than it should have been. The ice in the bowl in her room had to be broken each morning so she might rinse her face, the frosty water underneath turning her fingertips blue with cold.

The contractions increased faster than she’d been prepared for—this child was a month before its time, eager to arrive in the world, and she knew already that it had little patience. When the midwife found her way into the bedroom (called for by the girl who’d heard her groans), she was already in a deep squat near the fire. The older woman made quick work of her clothing, removing much of it so that she stood before the flames, her swollen breasts resting upon her naked belly, her hands down between her legs and touching the crown of  the child’s head.

Her heart pounded as he slid from her body, another boy, another disappointment. But he was so small; that was all she noticed as the girl took him to clean him off, the water now warmed over the fire, his body pink underneath the smears of blood and white.

It was only then, after the placenta had also exited her, that she noticed once more the chill in the air, the gooseflesh upon her skin. The old woman wrapped her in a dressing gown after gently wiping off her thighs, her purple and bruised flesh, leading her to bed and pulling blankets and furs up around her.

“Wait.”

One word she uttered as the girl started to take the infant out of the room, his mouth wide with cries. The girl muttered something about the wet nurse, but she shook her head, her arms stretching out for him.

As that wide mouth latched upon her nipple, she sighed. He was different in her arms than the others had been. And, though he was tiny and wrinkled as any other newborn, she knew with one look that he would favour her—unlike so many of the others.

Her eyes wandered to the window, her fingers trembling as she held him.