#{ a prompt fits a muse but i have NO IDEA who to send it to lmao }

[untitledmemes]

Untitled Embraces Prompts

An assortment of both dialogue and action prompts featuring a variety of hugs, embraces, cuddles and more alike. If sending action prompts, don't forget to tell receiver who is Muse A and who is Muse B. Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. In case of Multimuse, don't forget to specify which one/s. Reblog, please do not repost or add.

“ Don't let go just yet, please. ”

“ Just hold me. ”

“ I could really use a hug right now. ”

“ Ow, ow! Careful with that hug! ”

“ Does someone need a hug? ”

“ I don't like being hugged. ”

“ Can I hug you? ”

“ Please, I... I just want a hug from you. ”

“ One last hug for the road? ”

“ You have no idea how huggable you look right now. ”

“ Don't ever hug me again. ”

“ I'm going to hug you now. Okay? Okay. ”

“ Kindness starts with a simple hug and a good word, you know. ”

“ Someone's cuddly today. ”

“ I just want to stay in your embrace forever. ”

“ It's so good to feel you in my arms again. ”

“ There's nothing a good hug can't resolve! ”

“ Too tight, too tight! You're squeezing me! ”

“ Hold me like this a little more. Maybe forever. ”

“ I can only fall asleep when you cuddle me. ”

“ Why would I ever want a hug from you? ”

[ HOME ] Muse A had a bad day and comes back home to Muse B, either asking for a comforting hug or getting one without asking.

[ APOLOGY ] Muse A has done Muse B wrong, and asks for forgiveness while giving them a hug.

[ NIGHT ] Muse A and Muse B part with a hug after having an amazing night together.

[ DEPART ] Muse A and Muse B part from each other with a loving/friendly embrace since one of them has to go for a while.

[ GOODBYE ] Muse A and Muse B embrace for the final, last time.

[ STAY ] Muse A, in a desperate act, hugs Muse B so they won't be able to leave.

[ BED ] Muse A and Muse B cuddle after having some intimate time together in bed.

[ ONE WAY ] Muse A gives Muse B a hug that isn't returned.

[ LOVE ] Muse A loves Muse B so much they won't know how to express it other than giving them a tight hug in that moment.

[ ALIVE ] Muse A pulls Muse B in for a tight hug, glad to see they're alive.

[ TENSION ] Muse A and Muse B hug, but it lasts a little longer than a platonic hug should last for.

[ WARM UP ] Muse A and Muse B embrace for a while as a form of foreplay.

[outerbankies]

you didn’t do anything wrong & squeeze my hand baby... hype to read these bestie😩🥵

new light: no surprises

nl masterlist

a/n: thank you for sending this in!!! (so very very long ago) (desperately hope whoever sent this in is still around to read it or will stumble across it one day) (feel like it wasn't what you imagined in sending these prompts, but i tried!!!) takes place in part 6 (??) after the porch swing talk but before the goodbye. yes let’s go with that and sorry for any retcon

Rafe Cameron insists on walking you to your parents’ front door every time he drops you off. It’s second nature to you, now, to wait as he opens his truck’s passenger door and shuts it behind you once he’s helped you out, his hand outstretched for yours, which has hardly touched a door handle since you began dating. He’s a romantic, big on good-night kisses, and he’ll always wait until you’re inside before he so much as turns around to start walking back to his truck.

It took some getting used to, and you’d passed the point where you thought he might give it a rest. But that never happened, and you’d come to learn you want to expect nothing less—not from him or from any other guy you’d plan to get serious with, which was hardly a thought your mind could conjure these days.

How could it, when it was always taken up with remembering the names of songs you think he’d like, or reminding yourself to change out the water in the seemingly endless vases of flowers stationed on your desk, your dresser and your night table, or by reading books he’d recommend to you only after he’d finished them—after many sessions tucked together on a beach towel under the shade of an umbrella.

But maybe just this once, you really wish he was more like your ex-boyfriend back at college, the one who dropped you off at the end of your driveway and sped away more nights than he didn’t.

Of course, that just wouldn’t be your boyfriend Rafe Cameron.

“What do you think about the mainland tomorrow?” he asks, his hand at the small of your back, the two of you climbing the steps of your parents’ porch, slowly, drawing out the moments before goodbye.

“I think I love that idea,” you decide, smiling as you think about it. 

“Let’s get the early boat,” he says. “Sarah told me about this new brunch spot.”

“I definitely trust her taste. She’s bougier than you,” you say, drawing away from him and toward the door, hand still connected to his.

“I’m not sure if I’m insulted by that,” Rafe says, pulling you back toward him before shifting his body to fit between you and the door, giving you no access to the knob. “But I am sure that I’m not ready for you to go inside yet.”

“You’re not?” you muse, slipping your arms up and around his neck. 

About a month ago, you’d be concerned about your giddiness for him being written all over your face. But Rafe’s cheeks were almost permanently tinged pink in your presence, and it only has the effect of making you want him more. 

“This dress is insane,” he says, leaning in for a peck only after his eyes sweep up your frame the way they had been doing all night. “You gonna leave your window open for me tonight?”

“Might close it early,” you shrug, pretending to ponder on it.

But Rafe is having none of it, lips catching yours in a way that should embarrass you when you know your dad’s home office has a street-facing window. “Really?”

“Y’know, gotta catch that early ferry and all.”

“What time should I come?” he murmurs against your lips, his arms constricting impossibly tighter around your waist. “Or we can skip brunch. Actually, fuck brunch and forget I said anything.”

“I’ll text you,” you say. “Alright? Just hang on a bit.”

“I’ll try,” he sighs, dropping one more kiss to your forehead as you reluctantly step away. “But no sweat. Get some sleep if you need to, sweetheart.” 

The front door flies open just as you’re making to push it in, your mother’s excited face appearing before you. Never in the history of the world has that been a good sign.

“I thought that was you two!” she says. “Rafe, a pleasure as always.” 

“You as well, Mrs. Y/l/n. I was just going.”

“Nonsense,” she says, before turning to you. “Y/n, your grandparents are here.”

You blink. “Why?”

She glances between you and Rafe, still exuberant, ignoring your question completely. “Have him come in and meet them, will you? They’ll be so excited.”

Your head is spinning, but you feel Rafe’s hand slip into yours, and you give him a squeeze for reassurance. For who, you aren’t sure. “Mom—sorry, when did they get here? I wouldn’t have went out tonight if I knew.”

“They surprised us. Now surprise them back,” she urges, turning before you answer, heels click-clacking across the foyer. She glances over her shoulder, one last enticement. “Peach pie.” 

You turn to Rafe, sighing with your face immediately buried into his chest.

His laugh reverberates. “C’mon, baby girl.”

“You don’t have to come in. I promise,” you say.

“I want to. I promise,” he answers, shrugging. “As long as it’s alright with you, it’s alright with me. Your mom’s side, right?”

Your eyes widen, thinking about the alternative. “Yes. Jesus, if it was my dad’s, we’d be back down the road already.”

You sigh, trying to steel your nerves with your eyes shut tight. The door was still open—you needed to get in there sooner or later.

“Y/n,” Rafe says, your full name falling off of his tongue and invoking in your body an involuntary reaction. He was more keen on pet names, you’d noticed, and shortening your name to the one only your friends called you. “Are you alright?”

“I’m alright,” you confirm, taking him by the hand again as you both face the entryway. Your far hand reaches up to grab at the crook of his elbow, both of your hands gripping, but not too tight.

“Are you? What’s our signal?”

You feel your eyebrows knit. “Our signal?”

“Yeah. Y’know, like a code word or something when you need an out. You and Dylan don’t have one?”

You think back to previous holidays, the eye contact made at the table, the kicks in your shins and the heavier sips when you realize you’re on the same page—that it’s time to get just drunk enough to be able to handle this without tipping anyone off. “I think our signal might just be alcohol.” 

“I’m not getting drunk in front of your dad.” 

You roll your eyes. “I know.”

“What about Kelce?” 

“What about him?” you ask. “We don’t have a signal either.”

“No, his name. The word. Just say ‘Kelce’ if you need me to dive bomb us out of the dining room,” he says. 

You shake your head, still racking your brain and prolonging the inevitable. “That won’t work. My grandma loves talking about Kelce.”

“Huh,” Rafe says, incredulous, his mouth twisting. “Imagine that.”

“Sorry,” you wince, squeezing his hand again. “Sorry—she just. We’ve been friends for so long. That doesn’t matter. They’re gonna love you.”

“Just do that,” he says, like he’s already moved on. “Just squeeze my hand, baby.”

You look down at where your hand is clasped in his, giving another experimental squeeze and having it returned.

He nods, a question in his eyes. “Got it?”

“Got it,” you say with a grateful smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “And you do it, too. You know, if she does bring up Kelce and you can’t handle it. She still talks about his prom tux.”

“Too soon, Y/l/n,” he mutters, leading you over the threshold. “Too fuckin’ soon.”

—

“No more,” Rafe groans, his hand on his stomach. “I might explode.”

You eat the last bit of peach pie off the fork you’d been offering to him, the both of you giggling as he wipes a bit from the corner of your lips. The way he licks his thumb after has you grateful your grandparents are already halfway back home—you know Rafe wouldn’t come back over later if he knew your grandparents were spending the night.

“You realize she’ll show up at Thanksgiving with, like, three of those now?” you say, setting the fork on the plate he’s holding, which he quickly puts on the table beside the couch before he leans back.

“Let her. I’ll wear an elastic band.”

“A little presumptuous,” you say. “Thinking you’ll get an invite to my mother’s Thanksgiving dinner.” 

Rafe looks temporarily affronted. “I—”

“M’joking, baby,” you say, kissing his cheek, legs thrown over his. “She’d kill me if I didn’t bring you. And now I think my grandparents would, too.”

“Cliff is chill as hell. I can’t believe your grandpa runs a nonprofit. That’s not very Figure 8 of him,” Rafe says.

You roll your eyes, burrowing your head into his chest all the same as he fails to hide any affinity, just as your grandmother had done with him. Appeasing the women in your family could never be further down on your list of priorities, especially when it came to your suitors. But you couldn’t help but feel something happy settle in your stomach, watching your mom exchange looks with her own mother as they watched Rafe. 

“Maybe that’s why they moved.”

“I guess I’m surprised,” he admits. “Your mom… she’s so…”

“Figure 8?”

“Is that okay to say?”

“Yeah. She is,” you say. “It’s kinda engrained. But I think she likes it that way.”

“You’re not like that,” he says, his thumb dragging down your shoulder and back again. “What was your grandpa saying about a job next year?”

“Hm?” you say, snuggling down further into him, eyes starting to droop. 

“I dunno,” he says quieter. “I thought Cliff was talking about you coming to work for him next year.”

You heard him correctly the first time, but you honestly hoped he’d drop it. “Yeah. Just newsletters, digital. Stuff like that.”

“That sounds cool,” he says, and you can hear him trying in vain to keep his voice even.

“He said I’d get my own office,” you admit. “And a title.”

Rafe perks up slightly. “Oh yeah?”

“Senior nepotism associate.”

“Get out of here,” he laughs, tugging on the strand of your hair that he’d been twirling around his finger, a bit of the tension breaking between you. “That shouldn’t bother you. And it figures that’s your bloodline. All those ocean cleanups you dragged us to.”

“Seem to remember you showing up to…” you trail off, counting on your hands. “1, 2… let’s see, all of them?” 

He bats at your hands. “Alright, alright. Have you thought about it though?”

“A little,” you sigh, resigning yourself to the conversation you didn’t want to have. “I know a few of his employees. And I don’t think I’d mind working for him. Their mainland office isn’t a far walk from the ferry in. It’d be great, really.” 

“But…” he pries, tugging on the strand again.

“But,” you sigh. “I don’t know. I still don’t wanna close myself off to the idea of staying in California. I love it there. I’m making ins with Agnes and her network, I know it.”

He nods, going quiet for a while as you both gaze out at the water. “It’s nice that you have options, though.”

You turn to him then, taking his far hand and holding it between yours, fiddling with the cigar band on his ring finger. “It’s a whole year away, Rafe.”

“I know,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Hey, I know. I just don’t like thinking about being away from you.”

“Well we’re… Rafe, we’re gonna be apart,” you say. “At least for a year. And that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

He nods again. “I guess... this summer, it’s just been easy to forget all of that. That I’m going to Georgia and you’re going to California, and you might not be coming back. But I am. And even though I know that... I don’t know what it says about me that I’m picturing having you here with me all the damn time.”

You’ve taken the time to picture it, too. It’s hard not to when most of the summer has been interrupted bliss, and you’ve been toying with the idea of coming back long before Rafe re-entered your picture.

“This is why I didn’t wanna talk about it,” you say morosely, beside yourself when you feel your tear ducts sting.

“Baby,” Rafe whispers. “Hey, baby. I’m sorry I brought it up. I just thought with how he was talking about it, I don’t know, it sounded like you were really considering it.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Rafe,” you tell him, willing your tears not to fall. But now that he’s onto you, that he’s reading the emotions in your eyes and feeling what’s weighing on your heart, it’s like your body decides it’s allowed to fall apart. You sniffle. “I don’t know what I’m considering. But I don’t like thinking about being away from you either.”

He thumbs away some tears, before looking back out across the horizon, the sky somehow almost an inky black color when it had just been lit up in hues of orange and pink minutes ago. 

“Hate it when you do that,” he says, his arm dropping around your shoulders again.

“What?” you ask.

“Cry because of me.”

You don’t have anything to say to that, and if you tried to speak again you might completely lose it, so you settle for slipping your hand back into his, squeezing as tight as you can.

Because you know this isn’t the first—and certainly won’t be the last—time that you’ll cry over Rafe Cameron.

[yeonban]

SO! Long time coming updates but here's how I'll roll from now on to hopefully avoid stressing myself out with big numbers all over again:

On Tumblr. 𓂅 01. I'm going to softblock everyone who hasn't attempted to interact ic with me since 2024 started! Huge numbers stress me out and as much as I adore reading you guys' portrayals, I unfortunately think my mental health will thrive more if I keep my dash solely to the people I actively write with. I'll start sbing people this Monday, so if you want to write with me you have until then to shoot me an ic ask or tag me in a starter or what have you! If you don't and I sb though, you're free to refollow whenever our muses mesh better and you think we'll write together, absolutely no hard feelings involved! Maybe we can't come up with any interesting ideas for our current muses and that's okay, who knows what the future holds! 𓂅 02. On the note of writing. I'm going to go through my inbox & drafts and clean out everything I don't have muse for, and then on January 2025 I might clean my inbox out entirely, which means whatever's still in there 4 months from now will likely be purged to allow me to focus better instead of constantly scrolling through hundreds of asks I can't bring my muses to reply to. Next year is going to be my last year of uni, so I'll try to declutter this blog as much as possible to help me remain active on here even while doing internships & writing my dissertation! 𓂅 03. I might delete some muses off my roster, namely those I rarely or never use, but if our muses are intertwined in any shape or form or if you ever feel like rping with them, I am willing to write them for/with you! The main reason I'll be taking them off the main roster (and maybe make a tiny list of muses I only write for certain people's portrayals so you don't think you're losing your marbles when seeing me rp muses I don't ~officially~ rp) is because I won't write them for everyone who follows me anymore. That said, if I take them off because I've temporarily lost muse for them (<-it happens sometimes), we can still talk about them/plot for them in dms! The dynamics I've built on here mean a ton to the both of us, so I'll ALWAYS be down to talk about them and help you shape your muse's main/verse lore if it includes/involves mine (i.e affiliates)! 𓂅 04. Now on my end of starting interactions, I'll begin sending people stuff more regularly! That includes prompted memes whenever I see any that fit the bill even if it means sending 30 memes in a row (you NEVER have to reply to all, or even any, if you're not feeling them so please don't feel pressured to! I just want to give people options to pick from if they ever feel a lot of inspo for a particular muse/verse/dynamic), unprompted memes if I happen to come up with scenarios that I'd like to explore (again no pressure to reply to them!) and random starters if I think the ideas I have would do better as threads than one-off interactions (these will probs only happen if we've plotted and I know for a fact that you're alright w the ideas I'm presenting, so expect me to manifest into your dms before I write any random starters!). I'll make sure to ask this of every one of you individually, but for those who are alright with it, I'll also start tagging you in things that remind me of our muses' dynamic, and/or (depending on what you're comfy with) have my muse talk about your muse in my interactions w others!

On Discord. 𓂅 01. I'll be deleting the people I haven't talked to in ages and/or who show no interest in talking to me! Talking includes both chatting/rambling and plotting, so if you want to escape The Purge you can shoot me a message with a cat video or a plot idea or whatever else's on your mind at the time! I know there are a few people I haven't replied to yet so dw you guys are NOT getting deleted by any meansdajsdh I promise I'll get to every single dm I owe before uni starts and then make a regular effort to respond in time to everyone! I just don't see a reason to keep hundreds of people on discord when I talk to maybe 20 on a good year. 𓂅 02. This isn't going to just be an one-way effort from your part! I'll make sure to pop into your dms on a constant basis too, from the moment the purge ends!

[nearestend]

✨🌼🍄

PROMPTS : POSITIVITY.

as i am looking through my blogroll, i am now realizing that reblogging this meme might have been a mistake if only because of my indecisiveness and inability to choose ... nevertheless, we must persist.

this got long so we're putting it under the cut!

send ✨ and i'll recommend a multimuse blog.

starting off strong, i am going to say birdie @entriprises! while i'm not familiar with every single character on their roster, i really enjoy how much depth and thought they put into their portrayals. it doesn't always feel necessary for me to know the source material because they're just exceptional at weaving a scene that feels both vibrant and descriptive. i also really appreciate dedication to taking a side character such as cathy and giving her nuance and interest, while also seamlessly integrating with the universe she originates from! i think that can sometimes be hard to do so smoothly (in my own experience, it can often feel clumsy or forced if it doesn't flow naturally with the rest of canon) but birdie does this so well!

send 🌼 and i'll recommend a blog with beautiful writing.

there are many of these to choose from, but i think saying "everyone i follow" is a real cop out answer so i won't do that. but i am a big admirer of laney over at @guttersniper / @tellwolves / @choicescreen. we haven't written a whole lot together, but i love reading her threads whenever they pop up. laney writes with so much realism and grit, and paints it all with intrigue, but it never feels sugar coated or glossy to me. i always feel that creating interest can sometimes toe the line into romanticism and it's extremely tricky to keep a balance, but laney definitely has such a handle on maintaining interest without wandering into an unjust territory. her writing very much reflects the reality of which her characters live in, which is something i truly love in any situation — like when a more whimsical/fantastical character is written in a flowery or poetic prose, or a monstrous character's pov is more visceral. with her oc mutt in particular, i see a lot of grit, a harshness, which very much reflects the environment in which he exists. i could go on for a very long time analyzing all the aspects i like about laney's writing but oh boy. let's carry on!

send 🍄 and i'll recommend a blog with incredible graphics.

also a very difficult question because i think everyone i know does a really beautiful job with creating something that suits their muse. @endurehim / @velourya / @catchfire some incredibly beautiful work! i'm a big fan of how ink uses colour palettes that are tailored to the characters she writes. i have the tendency to visualize what i read or write a lot and often have colour associations to stories/themes/characters/etc, so this is something i greatly appreciate. bobby is an obvious example with all shades of icy blues (appropriate and fitting!) but what i really love is ink's choice to give joe a palette of greens and yellows. not just because it looks so visually interesting, but also because of the symbolism (no idea if this was intentional on ink's part but a really nice coincidence if it wasn't!). green being symbolic of money but also being representative of renewal, growth, and regeneration — something that heavily ties to joe as a man who is constantly at odds with his identity. i think it's all very beautiful work beyond just having something that looks cool and fun (which would also great anyways because i think we should just do some things because they're cool and fun) and it really speaks to ink's dedication and thought behind her characters. love, love, love.

[esmexavila]

Sentence Starters & Action Prompts

change up the sentences how you see fit!

angsty starters

"you never really loved me. it was all fake."

"what the hell did you think would happen?"

"don't lie to me! i know when you're lying!"

"i can't believe i gave up my life for you. i gave up everything for you."

"haven't i given you enough?"

"i don't think i'm meant to be loved."

"i said i would help you. i didn't say i would be nice to you while i'm helping you."

"you are the biggest mistake i've ever made."

iI guess i'm a good actor/actress because i never really liked you."

"having a kind heart doesn't mean someone is a good person."

"do you even know who you are?"

"what are you crying about this time?"

"don't cry. i'm sorry, i didn't mean it!"

"why aren't we close anymore?"

"could you just forgive me so we can move on from this?"

"why do you hate me so much?"

romance/flirting/fwb starters

"are you blushing? did i make you blush?"

"i had a dream about you."

"i thought i could handle seeing you with someone else, but i was wrong."

"did you just congratulate me for having sex with you?"

"what about me turns you on the most?"

"wait. are you ticklish?"

"we agreed that this would be casual, remember?"

"what is this between us?"

"can we just talk about this?"

"this is just flirting. this will always be just flirting."

"yes, this is me asking you on a date. what do you say?"

"do a spin, let me see the the full outfit."

"your laugh is adorable."

"why are you all the way over there? come closer, i don't want to just look at you."

"we need to set some boundaries."

violent starters

"you want to hit me? Then hit me."

"oh, a gun. I'm so scared."

"you fucking hit me! what the fuck was that for?"

"what are you, a pyromaniac?"

"if you want to kill me, you'll have to try harder."

"what happened? why are you bleeding?"

random starters

"you're tired. let me, at least, tuck you into bed?"

"tell me what you need and I'll do what I can to give it to you."

"what's going on? you're not acting like yourself."

"you always find ways to surprise me."

"stop. you're giving me a headache."

"let me buy you a drink. or two. i plan on having at least two more."

"come on, get high with me. you know you want to."

"tell me something that's true."

action/scenario prompts send + reverse if you want it from the receiver.

[ pat ] sender playfully pats receiver's butt.

[ whipped ] sender smears a bit of whipped cream on receiver's face.

[ hand ] sender reaches their hand towards the receiver's and gives it a squeeze.

[ hiding ] sender checks the area around them before kissing receiver, trying not to get caught.

[ almost ] sender and receiver are centimeters apart, about to kiss, but something interrupts them.

[ regret ] sender and receiver start to kiss, but sender backs away in the middle of it, knowing it's a bad idea.

[ flowers ] sender brings receiver a bouquet of their favorite flowers.

[ blanket ] sender notices receiver is cold, so they bring them a blanket and drape it over their shoulders.

[ crime ] sender sees reciever commiting a crime and goes to stop them [ or help them ].

[ sneak ] sender convinces receiver to tresspass into a building at night.

[ shove ] sender shoves receiver backwards, making them fall to the ground.

[ harm ] sender harms my muse with [ specify weapon ].

[ lock ] sender locks receiver in a room.

[ water ] sender takes off clothes and insists receiver skinny dips with them.

[ tent ] sender confesses to the receiver that they only brought one tent on their camping trip.

[ embrace ] sender pulls receiver into their arms, hugging them.

[ grab ] sender grabs receiver by the [ arm, jaw, hand, neck ]

[ brush ] sender brushes their finger across receiver's lips.

[ rain ] sender pulls receiver out into the rain.

[ hair ] sender runs their fingers through receiver's hair.

[ caress ] sender holds one side of receiver's face in their hand.

[ soup ] sender makes a bowl of soup for receiver while they are sick.

[ save ] sender runs towards receiver and yanks them out of the way of danger.

[ hotel ] sender rents a room for them and when they walk into the hotel room they realize there's only one bed.

[ apology ] sender brings a gift to the receiver as an apology.

[polizwrites]

PoliZ's WIP Update - 3 Apr 2024

Getting back to what I’d like to consider an average writing week, with most of my effort was focused on a single work.  I touched  4 fics (1 new work & 3 WIPs) for a total of  2330  words.  

On Ao3, I posted: 

 A Little Bit Carried Away - an omegaverse WinterIron meet cute/meet ugly fic. 

Shooting for the Moon -  a WinterHawk meet-ugly one shot that’s a POV remix of A Hairy Situation  

On Tumblr I posted: 

Amplification - A Steve POV ficlet where he reflects on the effects of Project Rebirth. 

I’m juggling  17 😬 active/semi-active WIPs with my current  deadline being the Post July Break Bingo, which ends in April, and the Alpha Bucky April event.  

See  below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc.  As always, feel free to send me   prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding  any of these projects  or any other WIPs I’ve got out there.   Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Stony AUniverse Bingo  [SAUB_R1] (ends 15 Feb)

Finally got my Masterpost done!    

Post July Break Bingo  [JBB_23p] (Ends Apr 2024)

Two fill on my  2x3 non-fandom-specific card - still working on  potential crossovers.

* A2 - "You knew?"  - matched this up with Chapter Three  of my Stony spyfic WIP -  Keeping All My Secrets Safe Tonight -  it’s coming in at 1079 words and after a bit more editing, should be posting this Friday.     

* B2 - Character’s personality is split into two different beings – I’ve never played with Bucky & the Soldier being two different people, but this seems like the perfect opportunity! Will see what might be a good crossover on one of my open cards.

*  C1 - Touch Starved – another good fit for a Bucky-centric fic. (Steve or Tony or Clint).

* C2 - “What are we?”  Pair up with  SRB C5 - Exes to Lovers ? 

Alpha Bucky April - [BBE_ABA] - (Ends 30 April) 

@buckybarnesevents   is running another fun event to encourage fanworks featuring Alpha!Bucky - any pairing in terms of characters and/or alignments.  Since I already have a couple of  Alpha!Bucky WIPs, am using this as a good reason to get some work in on them.   There’s also additional challenges that I plan to take on: 

* Breeding Kink/Baby Fever -  mpreg is a pretty major squick for me, but I think I might be able to make it work in combination with an April BaBB prompt (roleplay) for what looks to be Chapter Three of   A Bit Carried Away.

* Nesting - This will fit pretty well  into the next chapter of A Sugar-Coated Pill - where Bucky comforts Tony after the bad news he’s gotten and helps him plan what to do next.   It’s currently sitting at 177 words and will crossfill with my WIB Couch Cuddles square nicely.  

* Purring/Affection - This could (and quite possibly will) fit into either/both of the above fics, tbh. 

* Beta Character  - My BBC4 fic (see below) features beta!Tony,  and  aroace Natasha will be making an appearance in Chapter Two of  A Bit Carried Away, which is in draft form at 1219 words and will probably post on the 19th.

* Double Minimum Req - 1500 words for a chapter seems pretty do-able  - targeting my BBC4 fic (or at least its first chapter) to fill this challenge 

Bucky Barnes Connect Four - Alt Jun-iverse [BBC4_R2]  {Ends May 31 2024}

Another fun event from the good folks over at  @buckybarnesevents! You sign up for a single row card of four squares and the challenge is to see if you can combine any/all into a single Bucky-centric AU fanwork - although you can also create fanworks that are based on a single or combo of 2-3 squares if you want.  

The combo of prompts on my first card [Reality Show,  Omegaverse, Talent/Manager, Royalty] sparked an idea:  Alpha!Bucky as a prince in name only who gets talked into joining a reality show that is supposed to match him up with an omega… but there’s a twist!  Picked this back up and it’s sitting at 766  words so far.  Thinking the Alpha Bucky April event will be a good excuse to get at least a first chapter of this out there! 

Steve Rogers Bingo - Round 3 [SRB_R3] (ends  15 Jun 2024)

Fourteen  fills and no WIPs at the moment  - need to ponder other possible crossovers with my non-fandom cards & BaBB.  

* C5 - Exes to Lovers   see JBB “What are we?” above 

* E5 - Oversensitivity/Enhanced Senses - paired this up with last week’s Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF246 Pinprick] for  Amplification. A Steve POV ficlet where he reflects on the effects of Project Rebirth, it came in at 334 words and will post to Ao3 before the event  is over. 

Hawkeyes Bingo [HB_R2] {Ends TBD} 

Working on this  Tumblr event - got a 3x3 card and and am looking forward to creating more  Clint-centric content and trying my hand at a bit of  Kate Bishop fic as well!    

*A1 - Werewolf AU -  Posted  Shooting for the Moon  on Ao3 this morning  -  Werewolf!Bucky’s POV on the  second half of A Hairy Situation. It came in at 786  words. 

* A3 - Awkward Flirting – this might be a good entry into my first femslash fic with Kate/Yelena?    

C3 - "I've never been so humiliated in my life."  - filled this on Tumblr last Friday with A Shining Example.  Established WinterHawk where a training session goes embarrassingly wrong and  Clint gives Bucky a pep talk.   It crossed over with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF243 Glitter and Blues] and will get posted on Ao3 before this event ends.  

Build-A-Bucky Bingo [BaBB_R1] {Ends Oct 2024}

Another fun year-long  event from the folks at  @buckybarnesevents!  Each month there’s a list of prompts and you choose (at least) one  each month for your card!

* November:  Crackfic - DONE  

* December: Wingman  - DONE

* January: Wingfic  - DONE

*January: Polyamory - DONE

* February: Fingering -  DONE

* February: Morning Sex - DONE

* March: Marriage of Convenience  - DONE

* March: Mutual Pining  -  DONE

* March: Bad Coping Mechanisms -  DONE

* March: Wrong Luggage - Posted what is turning out to be Chapter One of  A Bit Carried Away  last Friday,  I combined it with my WIB - I5 - A/B/O: Scent Bonding square to come up with a meet-cute/meet-ugly WinterIron fic that came in at 1209 words.  

* March: Rimming  - belatedly filling this with Chapter Two of A Little Bit Carried Away -  as part of some spicy sexting between Alpha!Bucky and Omega!Tony.  This will probably post on the 17th or 19th.

* April: Roleplay -  will be filling this with Chapter Three of A Little Bit Carried Away  where Bucky will be playing a role to save Tony from some obnoxious alphas at a reception; potential crossfill with  WIB  A/B/O: Mates and Alpha Bucky April Breeding Kink prompts…    

*April: Pet Names - this may also get filled with Chapter Three of A Little Bit Carried Away  as part of the roleplaying….  

WinterIron Bingo Round 2  [WIB_R2] {Ends 16 Dec 2024}

Signups are still open for Round Two of this super-fun bingo event! I got my card and already have fie  fills and three WIPs! 

* Iron Soldier (One Bingo, One Fill) - looking at combining my Column B prompts: Matchmaker, Bucky Riding Tony, Stark Gala, Inside Joke and Threesome.  Still working on a plot - if you have any suggestions/want-to-sees - let me know! 

*I4 - SHIELD HQ - combined this with last week’s Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF245 You Never Cared] and wrote Fathers Don’t Know Best  -  No Power AU with Bucky working as an analyst at SHIELD who stumbles across a late night visitor to the lobby.  It’s coming on at 407 words and will get posted to Ao3 before the event ends.  

* N1 - Hair Pulling Kink -  thanks to a fun prompt from @scottx  - I filled this square with Untangling Their Attraction - where Tony’s offer of assistance leads to mutual kink discovery (not as racy as it might sound).  It’s coming in at 544 words and will post to Ao3 before this event is over. 

* N4 - A/B/O: Mates - see BaBB Roleplay above 

* N5 - "I'm here for you."  - Possibly the next chapter of  Lady Natasha’s Consort and Lord Steve’s Companion ? 

* O2 - Couch Cuddles - see  Alpha Bucky April Nesting prompt/challenge above 

* O4 - Hotel Room - filling this with Chapter 8 of My Love is Vengeance which is currently sitting at 907 words and will up the rating to Explicit.  (Looking forward to April’s BaBB prompts for potential crossfilling!) 

* O5 - Sexting - see BaBB March - Rimming above 

Warm and Fluffy   Bingo  [WFB]   (no end date)

Four  fills on my card, courtesy of   @warmandfluffybingocards  - need to try for another crossover or two!

————

On  other creative fronts:  I am working on a Harrowhark and   a Gideon figure for  a commission.  I’ve finished all my  Marvel Trumps Hate  figures, but still need to create posts (and mail one set). If  you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations, check  out Stuffed With Character    over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 150!).   These soft stuffed figures are  mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC   and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design   requests  for any fandom!

[chickensoupleg]

oooh ok if you’re wanting prompts- robin chrissy and heather’s days off finally align, but they all have different things they want to do together. do they bicker? make a plan? compromise?? 👀

So I'm imagining they all have entirely separate jobs because of course they do. Robin's got her job doing whatever, let's say she's managed to snag a job (With Steve of course that's her work best friend never leave home without him) at the local Waffle House so her work hours are weird and sometimes she's going to bed the moment her wives wake up, Chrissy is working as a gymnastic coach, and Heather has somehow gotten herself into being a volunteer firefighter. Chrissy has the most flexible schedule (Get it) out of all of them.

They do love their jobs, but man is it brutal on their date nights.

Eventually they do manage to get a weekend together, and of course they don't want to waste it!

Problem is the how. Heather just wants to have a normal date night so she wants to go out and eat after a nice walk around town. Robin doesn't want to be near a restaurant because she is positive the waitress mentality will embarrass her in front of everyone ('Babe you work at a Waffle House it's not that fancy.') ('Heather baby my sweet sweet flaming ball of my miserable yet enchanting life I will accidentally walk into the kitchen if I'm not careful.') ('... Robbie why would you be in the kitchen?') ('Tickets.') ('Ah.')

Chrissy wants to spend the entire time in the house, cuddled up with each other and being lesbian wives doing lesbian wife things like holding hands and see how close they are to succumbing to building furniture for fun. As sweet and relaxing as that sounds somehow it feels like a waste just being home and doing absolutely nothing. They're not gonna have this much time again for a long while they might as well use it! (They do sleep in bed a little longer together regardless. Chrissy is a lump in the blankets, Robin has sprawled over everything, and Heather is octopused around the closest things which are usually either her girls or a pillow)

Robin wants to commit crimes of the loving but frankly a little concerning kind.

We can't let Robin commit crimes.

No matter how much Chrissy and Heather also want to commit crimes.

So they do bicker for a while over the span of a week before the actual days off in the form of many, many sticky notes stuck to bathroom mirrors, passing conversations, muttered sleepy time musings, messengers in the form of sending whoever they could convince to go between work places, phone calls, and even one (1) point in time where they were just in the same bathroom together.

In the end they ask Steve, date-life extraordinaire, for advice, who just tells them (in a fit of this man was rudely awoken) something about how girls like spas and stargazing. He's totally making something up.

It gives Robin an idea immediately, even if it makes no sense and takes a little convincing. A nice and relaxing spa day followed by shuffling off into the wilderness and laying underneath the stars! Perfect! No sitting around at home but also plenty of relaxation and being all date-y!

(It ends up being the greatest date night ever.)

(Even though Steve is a little worried when Robin came back with a photo of them in a tree while a bear was sniffing around at the bottom.)

(And when Heather came in to regale the tale of how Robin does not believe she could wrestle a bear.)

(... And how Chrissy accidentally kicked a bear in the face and apologised as told by Chrissy herself.)

[masterwords]

something like sanctified

Summary: Hotch & Morgan have a little accident while messing around. Now, their bed is broken and Hotch is a little broken too. Shopping for a new bed is more than a little embarrassing with your arm in a sling. (Alternate summary: they're too damn old for this shit.)

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Words: 3k

Warnings: sex & a shoulder injury (no explicit sex, just obviously that's kind of the theme of these hijinks)

Notes: Today we're using a prompt from my forever muse @unionjackpillow - "Shopping for a new bed because the old one - that they got only 2 years ago - broke. Now they’re trying not to tell the sales person why exactly the frame is no longer in one piece." Oh. Well. I don't think they needed to say anything at all, do you? This fits into the Chicago Timeline, so they're older and have creaky bones but they're definitely not wiser. (The title sounds very serious but it's a line from "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye so...)

Read on AO3 if you prefer!

**

“They don't need our whole life story,” Hotch said, perhaps a little too stiff as he tried to pull himself out of the car. He didn't mean for it to come out that way, but it did need to be said. Most people would assume that to be the case...not Derek. Not the man who could charm his way into a new friendship any place he went if he was in the right mood. Today seemed like one of those dangerous days. “Okay? You're not on the market for a new best friend, just a bed. Because you broke the last one...”

“We broke the last one. And why are you so mean anyway? You were having just as much fun as I was.”

“You’re right. I'm sorry. I’m tired and my shoulder hurts, I probably should have stayed home. I shouldn't take it out on you, even if it is your fault.”

Derek rolled his eyes dramatically and hooked his arm around Hotch's waist, careful not to bump against his sore arm. He did have a point, they had been a little rough the night before and when you’re on the bottom of some intense acrobatics when your bed breaks and your arm takes the brunt of two people’s weight against an unforgiving hardwood floor...Derek supposed he had a fairly good excuse for being a little on the grumpy side. “I'm gonna tell 'em everything. About how you dislocated your shoulder, about how I offered to set it back in place and you growled at me to keep my hands off...about the trip to the ER at 2am, everything.” Hotch wasn’t proud of his reaction but the injury had blindsided him. He was nearly finished, his mind was way out in the stratosphere and then WHAM! His entire world exploded in bright hot agony. It took him nearly a full minute to even figure out what happened and in that minute he did not want to be touched. He’d already apologized about one hundred times.

“I would prefer you didn’t.” How was that for diplomatic? What he really wanted to say was the fuck you are, but he didn’t swear often and he really didn’t think it would come across as (almost) playful as he meant it. Better let that one die on his tongue. Derek’s jovial mood was hanging by a thread, too, and he was a lot better at hiding it but Hotch knew how easily they could devolve into a bitter argument.

They ended up at the mall, purely because Derek was hungry and planned to send Hotch on a mission to grab them some lunch and wait at the food court while he talked his way around the furniture store. The problem in that plan, he discovered, was that Hotch with only one useful arm wasn’t going to be able to easily carry trays of food on his own, not without risking some very embarrassing public mishaps. Like he needed to draw more attention to the humiliation of the injury.

Derek did plan to be vague, he wasn’t a complete maniac, but it was fun to let Hotch think that their antics would be center stage. Hotch turned down the food court idea promptly, insisting that they go together or not at all. The pain in his shoulder was making him feel a little sick, and he wanted nothing more than to stand beside Derek quietly observing. There wasn’t much Derek could do when Hotch looked at him with those sleepy dazed eyes, the look of a man who was just beginning to feel the effects of the pain medicine he’d taken before they left the house so he could get through the day as comfortably as possible. There was a time, years ago, when he wouldn’t have touched the pills but he was too old for that now. His body already hurt whether he injured it or not, and dislocating your shoulder is a young man’s game as the doctor had said. Scolded. It was kind of a scolding. “How do you dislocate your shoulder at this time of night?” he’d asked, and Hotch had no good answer. In his days as an FBI Agent that answer was always easy, it hadn’t occurred to him that he no longer had that safety net. Derek wasn’t even in the room with him, just to be a little less obvious. It didn’t matter. “Take it easy, you’re no spring chicken. This’ll take a little longer to heal.”

Longer to heal spelled trouble anyway. He’d dislocated his left shoulder which meant writing was going to be a challenge down the line. Hopefully taking longer didn’t mean past Spring Break, or at least that he would have some command of his arm by the time classes resumed. He hated to have to add taking time off to the list of indignities he was suffering for having a little too much fun with his boyfriend. Lesson learned. Maybe. It was fun.

“Just time for an upgrade?” the salesman asked with a wink, eyeing Hotch in his sling with a knowing look. Hotch felt the flush of utter humiliation rising like the tide in his neck. How did he know already? Were they that obvious?

“Yes.”

“Anything in particular you're looking for?”

Derek grinned. “Can we look at the ones with the padded headboards?” He was tired of hitting his head on hard wood, he’d been complaining about it for months. Now was the time to make a change if there ever was one.

Hotch wanted to die immediately, this was only getting worse. He should have gone to the food court. Dropping a tray of soda and pizza in the middle of hungry families eating would have been preferable to the horrors of this interaction. The salesman glanced from one of them to the other and nodded sagely. “Of course. We have some very nice ones, just got ‘em in.”

While they walked toward the showcase area, Hotch rubbed absently at the back of his hand resting in the sling. His fingers were tingling, they felt the way he imagined the inside of a snow globe might feel all liquid and glitter swishing and moving around. It wasn’t quite static, it was less intense than that but still unnerving. An unfortunate but temporary side effect of the injury they assured him would pass within a day or so. Sometimes nerves got jostled or pinched, but as long as it wasn’t painful or numb it was probably fine. He didn’t care for the word probably being used in a medical capacity. Come back if it doesn’t go away in 24 to 48 hours, that’s the drill. Hotch flexed his hand and sighed. At least, for the first time that day, he didn’t feel his tendons pull angrily at his injured joint. It was blissfully unaware of the movement below.

“I like the gray one,” Derek said pointing to a dark gray tufted headboard. It was nice. Looked like a bed and a wing back chair had an elegant baby, and he didn't mind it. Didn’t particularly like it bu the didn’t hate it either, and he wasn’t terribly picky about what his bed looked like. He cared a lot more about the mattress. “What do you think?”

The bed frame was upholstered in the same dark gray fabric, low to the ground, with no foot board. Metal, not wood. “It’s nice. You choose, I really don’t care as long as I can sleep in a bed tonight.” He was grouchy, running on about three hours of sleep and he was in pain...not really his shoulder, but every overcompensating muscle group that surrounded his shoulder ached deep and complained loudly. He wanted to be sitting down. He couldn’t possibly keep it still enough to be comfortable otherwise.

“Looks sturdy.”

“I've heard plenty of stories of beds being broken,” the salesman started with a sly smile. Hotch turned away. “If you can imagine it, someone has told me about it. Of course there’s the naughty stuff, but there’s also animals and kids and people rearranging a room, earthquakes…” he was rambling, he’d already clearly decided they had sex, he kept eyeing Hotch’s sling and the bags under his eyes. You don’t end up in a sling because your dog jumped on your bed, or your kid, and there hadn’t been an earthquake in Chicago recently. It was a pretty sure bet. “But not this style. Indestructible. How’d you hurt your arm anyway? Looks fresh.”

Derek, sensing the way Hotch immediately bristled at the question and moreover the implication, stepped in. “Work accident. I think we’ll take this one, it’s nice. Matches the rest of the bedroom. How soon can it be delivered?”

They’d told Jessica and Jack the same thing. A work accident. Jessica just gave them that look, wondering what kind of a work accident a professor of law could possibly get into (especially while his students were on spring break) and Hotch was sure he would fold if she asked for details...he couldn’t lie to her. But she didn’t ask, and Jack only rolled his eyes and said yeah, right, whatever. Hotch couldn’t tell if it was the kind of sarcastic yeah right that said he knew exactly what they were doing, or if maybe he thought Hotch had been doing something stupid like climbing a ladder without Derek there to support him...wouldn’t put it past him. Could go either way. He hoped for the latter of the two. In any case, the two of them were back in Virginia so Jack could spend his spring break with Roy. The broken frame was removed from the house and Hotch could live with that lie. Of course they’d have to answer for why they had a new bed once Jack returned to Chicago but that was a problem for next week.

“This afternoon. You’ll be sleeping in your brand new bed tonight.”

“Do we have to build it ourselves?” He sounded like a wuss, he knew it. He could build the damn thing himself he just...didn’t want to. He wanted to sit with Hotch on the couch and not worry about it. He wanted to throw a nice big tip at someone who was willing to do it for them.

“We can send someone out to put it together,” the salesman said, leading them toward the cash register. “It’s a two person job, and it appears you only have one able to work so I get it. They’re booked out a few days but I’ll see if I can’t get someone out there for you today.”

The bed was delivered and built without issue while Hotch took a much needed nap on the couch with Hank. Hotch needed the nap more than Hank did. Fran was fussing over him, knowing exactly what happened and not shying away from shaming her son for his childish antics. “You two are grown men, you have children who live in this house…”

“There weren’t any kids here, ma. We had a night free to be grown ups and do what grown ups do. We’re not allowed to have a little fun?”

“That is not the point, Derek Morgan. Look at him. That poor man. Was it worth it?”

Derek, glancing into the living room at Hotch sleeping with Hank on his chest, carefully tucked into the crook of his good arm, smiled. They were huddled beneath a blanket that left only the fluff of Hanks unruly hair and the top half of Hotch’s face visible. “I dunno. It wasn’t not worth it. You see that new bed?”

She smacked his arm with the pot holder and shoved him out of the way so she could get into the oven for her roast. She had insisted on making them dinner, as if Hotch’s minor injury meant they couldn’t do it for themselves. Sure, at least for today, Hotch was more or less useless but if he had to do something he would have. He just didn’t have to. He had the luxury to lay around with a toddler tucked against his chest and sleep off a good night that turned a little sour. Sleep off sore muscles and joints and a late night hospital visit.

“I was going to offer to keep Hank the Tank again tonight so you could take care of Aaron but I’m a little afraid you’re going to misunderstand me. Can I trust you?”

“No,” Derek said with that infuriating smile. “Of course you can’t. But you can probably trust him. I don’t think he’s planning on any hanky panky for a while.”

“Well at least one of you is using the brains God gave you.”

“Aw, ma, don’t bring him into this. Go sit down with your coffee and I’ll finish up here. I’m perfectly capable of making dinner for my family.”

She rolled her eyes but set the pot holder down, lifted her coffee and made a beeline for their bedroom to see the new bed (it was very nice, she had to admit) before wandering back to the living room to have a seat and wait for him to ask her help setting the table or waking the sleepyheads.

She did end up taking Hank back to her place for the night, just to make things easier. She also loved having him stay the night, he made every part of her house more cheerful just by his presence and she was missing Jack’s afternoon visits a little more than she thought she would while he was back in Virginia. She had a countdown on her fridge with a big circled date for her biggest grandchild’s return. It was partially for her, partially for Anthony, they both missed him fiercely. Their afternoons spent playing board games and drinking lemonade were a lot less fun without Jack and his unique brand of humor.

“You wanna give it a shot?” Derek asked as they started the arduous process of getting ready for bed. Hotch was struggling to pull his t-shirt off around an arm that he didn’t want to move. It wasn’t exactly stiff, the joint just felt weak and achey. And the tendons felt weak, like if he moved too far or too fast his shoulder would slip right back out and he’d be in a world of hurt all over again. His entire arm felt like it was hanging by a threat, unstable and dangerously close to blinding pain. He’d abandoned the cumbersome sling sometime around dinner time, deciding instead that he would rather just rest the sore arm in his lap or against his chest, engaging some muscles made it feel a little more secure.

Reaching out, Derek grabbed the shirt and helped maneuver it around the swollen mound of his mottled purple and red shoulder. He slid it down around the elbow and off, trailing warm soft kisses in the wake. He started at the deep bruising, the odd stretch marks in the skin where it had popped, and followed the line down to his elbow before standing up and finding eager and waiting lips instead. Maybe his idea that Hotch would be against hanky panky was a little off. It was a delightful revelation. “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

“What would your mother say?” Hotch asked with a small smirk, already on board.

“Uh-uh, don’t you dare invoke her name in this bedroom…” Derek warned, already undoing Hotch’s belt and then his pants. Hotch was content to let him do all the work. He just watched with that amused little smile while Derek undressed him eagerly. “You trust me?”

“Against my better judgment…” Hotch whispered against Derek’s lips. “Always.”

That night, shoulder injury notwithstanding, they gave the bed its maiden voyage. Slow and steady, Hotch still riding the last bits of his paid med high.

Not a squeak, not a shift.

Derek had propped Hotch up on pillows, he really was less an active participant as he was a very involved observer. Eager and willing to let Derek do whatever he wanted. He did what he could, he wasn’t a cold fish, but ultimately found himself met with Derek chiding him, telling him to be still, to just enjoy the process. He barely even felt it in his wrecked shoulder or the angry muscles holding it in place. It was so comfortable, so quiet that they went at it again almost immediately before hopping in the shower to clean up. The discussion was limited to “yeah?” and “yeah”, monosyllabic and quick. Derek helped Hotch wash his hair and had trouble restraining himself when their hips brushed and rolled against one another, when their fingers touched, when Hotch sagged against him tired and finally, having exceeded the length of his medication and badly in need of another dose, feeling considerable pain. The muscles running the length of his spine ached as they worked twice as hard to hold his arm still.

“No more?” Derek asked and Hotch shook his head. He was tapping out. Derek wouldn’t argue.

“I’m ready to sleep.”

Derek was too, he wanted to lie down in bed, prop Hotch up with as many pillows as it took to make him comfortable and crowd in on him. Absorb his heat, give him heat, touch him and breathe him in. Tangle their legs and drape his arms and drift off. He wanted all of that too, but he feigned disappointment anyway. Because that was fun.

“Yeah...alright. I am a little tired. Guess we should see if the bed is good for that too, huh?”

[aphelea]

like forever (in a day)

Written for @tiertice-week-2023. I chose the prompt goodbye, because angst.

Summary: After Prentice is arrested, the Council keeps him in a cell to await trial. A certain Black Swan member (who may or may not be in love with him) attempts to break him out.

@gay-otlc @cogaytes @arsonistblue

Ao3 or read under the cut.

The thirteenth sunrise of Prentice’s imprisonment comes and goes without anything quite remarkable occurring.  

Honestly, if it weren’t for the window in the corner of his cell, he doubts that he would have any idea of the time passing; the gnomes here bring him food at seemingly random hours, perhaps with the intention of throwing him off balance before the Tribunal. 

Their efforts are needless, anyway. Prentice would lose the Tribunal even with the best lawyers the Lost Cities has to offer. And he doesn’t even have that—he has Leto in a mustache, under another stolen identity. 

It’s almost laughable, really, how completely and utterly doomed he is. This Tribunal is merely a formality, a way for the Council to act as if they are not as merciless as they are. 

And Prentice thinks he might go mad well before the Cognates formally break him, at this rate. He’s spent nearly two weeks in this crystal hell, being fed food fit for a verminion on a diamond-studded plate while the crystal shackles around his ankles chain him to the floor. 

“Prentice?”

Maybe he’s already going mad. Surely that isn’t Tiergan’s voice, echoing in his cell. Surely he cannot be so lucky. 

“Prentice!”

There it is again. The voice of his best friend surrounds him, like one final taunt by his jailers, pushing him just slightly over the edge until—

“Prentice, look up here.” 

Prentice does so and almost bursts out laughing at the picture above him. His best friend’s face is pressed up against a vent, and he’s frowning at Prentice through the ceiling. It looks severely uncomfortable—as one would expect sitting in an air vent to be. 

Prentice snorts. “What, was using the door not dramatic enough for you?”

Tiergan rolls his eyes as he works to remove the screw holding the vent in place. “I’ll have you know that my plans aren’t always about drama. I’m up here in the air shaft for purely logical reasons.”

“Right. And surely not because this is exactly how the heroes of your favourite heist novels always attempt to break into buildings.” Prentice pauses, his own words suddenly setting in. “Wait. The Council doesn’t know that you’re here, right?”

Tiergan snorts. “If they did, I’d be chained up right beside you.” He slowly slips the newly loose vent off and drops a rope ladder to the ground, while staring at Prentice expectantly. 

But Prentice can only stare right back in shock. “Please tell me you’re not here to break me out.”

“What else would I be here for?”

Prentice has to concede that the man makes a good point. “A mission,” he muses, “perhaps to send me information? Something that isn’t as recklessly dangerous as breaking me out of prison a mere twenty-four hours before my Tribunal.”

Tiergan’s eyes darken. “I’d have come earlier if I’d managed to perfect my stunning bullets more quickly.”

Stunning bullets. “You’re serious about this, then? You want me out?”

It’s a preposterous idea. 

“I couldn’t live with myself if I let them take you.” 

Prentice’s shackles bite at his legs, cold crystal and metal woven together in some unbreakable, restricting bond. He can only meet Tiergan’s expectant smile with pity.  “You’ll have to learn to live without me,” Prentice says. “As much as I am happy to see you earlier than expected…I can’t go with you, Granite.” He swallows, and finds that his throat is paper-dry. “Am I right in assuming that Forkle has no idea that you’re here? Physic? Wraith?”

“They don’t know I’m here,” Tiergan says, “but that hardly matters. What do you mean you can’t go with me? What’s keeping you attached to this lonely, dusty cell—which, might I remind you, is luxurious compared to what you’re about to see in Exile?”

Prentice scoffs. “My reputation, maybe? The safety of my family, my son, my friends, my—you?” He doesn’t think about why friend and Tiergan are two distinct categories. He can’t, not right now. “And I’m well aware of what I’m about to face, Granite. The Cognates made my fate very clear when I refused to tell them what they wanted.”

Tiergan’s face softens at this, and he turns away. 

Truthfully, their relationship has been…tumultuous, lately, especially in the midst of all the lies and deception that surround both of their jobs. But they will always be best friends, Prentice knows this, even when he has no wits about him or even a memory. 

And though he wishes that he could confess the truth to Tiergan—the truth that has permeated years of unspoken tension and drunken nights—Prentice knows that he cannot be so cruel. To leave his best friend, his heart, with concrete knowledge of the truth only so soon before his inevitable demise? 

It would be hell for Tiergan, and an endless what-if for Prentice. 

So, no. He will not be so cruel. 

“Still,” Tiergan says, his voice soft and like lavender honey, “that doesn’t have to be your fate.” He steps forward and offers Prentice an arm. “Run away with me, Prentice. We can leave all of this behind.”

Prentice sucks in a breath.

It’s a tempting idea. 

Awfully tempting, really, and given all the duties he has to his family and friends here and his connection to his home, he should be saying no far quicker than he is. 

But instead, a tense silence hangs over the two of them, as Prentice eyes Tiergan’s outstretched arm. 

“I…I can't.” 

“You can’t?”

Prentice holds his best friend’s gaze, solid and resolute. “Neither can you, Granite. We have lives here—you, more so than me, now, I suppose.” He chuckles, but the joke falls flat. “And if you and I are gone, what will happen to Wylie and Cyrah? The Council will find a way to punish us somehow. You know they will.”

“I’d kill them if I could.”

“I know you would.” 

It’s both a promise and an answer—Tiergan must know how ridiculous this whole situation is. The two of them, both doomed in vastly different ways, exchanging what could be their final words to one another in the dark of this crystal and iron cell—it’s painful, and it’s everything, and it hurts. 

“You know, the Tribunal is tomorrow,” Tiergan says, after a long moment. “And my stunning elixir lasts for eight hours exactly.”

Prentice raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And,” he continues, “the day is still young.”

Hints of weak sunlight seep through from the tiny window above. “True.”

Tiergan offers him an arm once again. “For eight hours, nobody will try to find you. We could taste freedom. Just for a day.”

Prentice smirks. “You want to take me on a day trip, Tiergan Alenefar?”

He notes his slip-up with the name too late. Ah, well, there’s no guards around to hear them. (Not that Tiergan has been particularly careful himself—showing up in a Council facility, discussing Black Swan information publicly without his Granite disguise? It’s a blatant disregard for his own safety, but they both certainly love doing that.) 

Tiergan grins. “I’ll fit forever in a day for you.”

“Forever in a day?” Prentice repeats, matching his best friend’s grin. “How romantic.”

Tiergan falters at the words, a movement so small that Prentice nearly misses it. Does that mean something?

“Maybe,” he replies, but his voice is weak and there’s something off about it that Prentice can’t quite place. “Anyway. I stole the keys to everything in the cell, so…freedom starts now, I suppose.”

Prentice snorts. “You couldn’t have started with that? I’ve been sitting here shackled to the floor for ten minutes for no good reason.”

“I needed some reason for you to keep me around.” Tiergan shrugs, but a smile dances across his lips, and Prentice knows he isn’t serious.

“I would always want you around. Even if you were the one locking me in here.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Tiergan snaps. “I would never—”

“I know. I’m just teasing,” Prentice replies, with an attempt at a calming smile. 

“Hell of a thing to be joking about,” Tiergan says. He pauses, for a moment, and Prentice swears he hears a sniffle.“Honestly…I don’t know how I’m going to live without you. Somehow, it’s like knowing what’s coming for you only makes it worse.” 

“I know.” Prentice sighs. “Sometimes I wish they had just taken and broken me immediately; it would save us all this marination in our sorrows.”

Tiergan attempts to discreetly wipe his eyes, but Prentice notices anyway. If he could, he would cry right with him, but he’s cried the last of his tears during these weeks in this cell. There’s nothing left to grieve.

Tiergan steps forward and unlocks Prentice’s chains without a sound, as if even uttering a word would break the carefully crafted silence that lingers between them. Truth be told, neither of them have ever been men of many words. This—silent touches, quiet intimacy, unavailing attempts to avoid looking at the other’s lips—this is what they are, and have always been. Quiet friends, and quietly pining lovers. 

Prentice mentally chides himself. They aren’t lovers, no matter how his heart runs wild in such close proximity to Tiergan—and they can’t be lovers, not when he’s set to be as good as dead in just a day’s time. And despite his selfishness whispering in his ear, Prentice has to hope that Tiergan will move on from him while he’s gone. 

It’s the only way he can justify still feeling this way, after everything. 

Tiergan’s cool hands brush against Prentice’s wrist as he unlocks the final cuff, and Prentice can’t help but shiver at their proximity. Tiergan’s fingers are long, and they move with the dexterity of an artist, wrapping themselves around Prentice's arm like a snare meant to trap him. 

And if he wants to trap Prentice, well….Tiergan has certainly succeeded, a thousand times over. 

Tiergan pulls him up, slowly, and Prentice finds himself shaking on weak legs. It hurts. Everything hurts. 

He doesn’t even realize that he’s transmitted the thought until Tiergan replies, Do you want me to carry you?

Prentice is tempted to disagree, to protest and say he’s fine even though he knows it’s a lie. But he can feel the pain and fatigue settling into his bones, and he knows from experience that Tiergan’s mental concentration is more than enough to control him. Just help me, he says, and within moments Tiergan’s arm is around his shoulder, guiding him toward the rope ladder hanging from the vent. 

Tiergan smiles apologetically. “It’s not the ideal escape method,” he admits, “but I’ll be honest, I didn’t think much of this part through.”

Prentice snorts. “I can tell.”

Tiergan rolls his eyes affectionately. 

After a wobbly climb and a rather cramped, twenty minute adventure crawling through the vents, they emerge at the back entrance to the building and levitate to the ground. 

Prentice revels in the fresh air, his first step outside in nearly two weeks. The adrenaline hasn’t quite set in yet, but he knows it will soon enough. I just escaped one of the Council’s cells. Illegally. Very, very, illegally. 

Tiergan grins at him, and he’s entirely more radiant in the morning sun. “What do you think?” he asks, re-adjusting his ponytail. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Prentice says, and he’s not sure what exactly he’s referring to. Everything. The sunrise. Tiergan. 

Tiergan smiles softly—almost lovingly. “I’ve always hated this city,” he muses, “but sunrises in Eternalia…they’re beautiful. I can see why a Councillor would choose to live here.” 

Prentice is inclined to agree. The sunlight reflects through this crystal city unlike any other, and even despite all of its issues, Prentice finds himself falling in love with the city more and more every time he visits. 

Tiergan leans against a balefire lamp. “So. We only have seven and a half hours left, I think.”

“Still trying to fit forever in a day?” Prentice teases, and Tiergan rolls his eyes fondly. 

“I was trying to be poetic.”

“Aww, just for me, darling?” Prentice grins as a blush rises to Tiergan’s cheeks, and he turns away with an exasperated smile. Tiergan is hard to fluster, usually, and Prentice takes pride in it whenever he succeeds in doing so. 

Tiergan clears his throat, but remnants of his giddy smile remain. “I was thinking we could go to Atlantis.”

“Atlantis?” 

“The Council has no eyes there. They rely on—well.” The name goes unsaid, but Prentice understands. Quinlin Sonden, the Council’s little spy. The man who will be responsible for locking Prentice away in the depths of Exile.

He reaches forward and intertwines his fingers with Tiergan’s, as the two of them have done since they were kids. The only difference now is that Tiergan’s hair is longer and Prentice’s legs are weaker and they’re both scarred beyond what most elves can even dream of, but Prentice likes to think that somewhere, deep down, those two kids that met and befriended each other in detention are still alive. 

Maybe not for much longer, if the Cognates get their way. 

(These days, Prentice cherishes every memory he has. Stars know he only has them for so long.)

“Let’s go,” he tells Tiergan, and follows him into the light. 

The whirlpool to Atlantis proves to be a slight issue with Prentice resting almost entirely in Tiergan’s arms, but somehow, they make it to the bustling streets below. Immediately, Tiergan shrugs off his coat, and wraps it around Prentice’s bare arms. 

Prentice doesn’t know how to interpret that. So he doesn’t. “Where are we going?” he asks instead, and Tiergan gestures toward North Street. 

“The café,” he says, and Prentice has never been more in love.

The Alexandria Café had once upon a time been his and Tiergan’s favourite meeting spot, for what had originated as tutoring sessions and quickly became friendly dates. Mostly because Livvy had worked there for a few summers, and she’d enticed them all to come with the promise of free pastries. 

It’s been years since Prentice visited the café. But with his newfound fondness for old memories, he finds he doesn’t quite mind returning. 

“Sounds great,” Prentice says, after realising that he hasn’t responded. “Lead the way.”

He and Tiergan begin their journey down toward Alexandria’s, and Prentice mentally retraces the route to his old apartment. It’s just a few blocks away from here, and even all these years later, Prentice is certain that his mother’s harsh words have tainted every wall of that house. 

“Are you thinking about your old apartment?” Tiergan asks, and god, Prentice is in love with this man. 

There’s no use denying it, not when they so obviously understand each other so well. 

“Yeah,” Prentice replies, with a rueful smile. “Hell of a place, that was.”

“I figured you would want to avoid walking near that road.”

Prentice squeezes his hand. “Thank you.”

When they open the door to the café, they’re met by a familiar face—one that Prentice hasn’t seen in years. 

“Well, if it isn’t the two little troublemakers!” Lark calls from behind the counter. “Not so little anymore, though.”

“Hey, Lark,” Prentice greets. “It’s been a long time.”

“I almost got used to seeing this one without you,” they reply, tilting their head towards Tiergan. “Thought you two had broken up or something. Say, weren’t you in the news scroll yesterday? I remember seeing your name. Can’t remember what for, though.”

Prentice chuckles awkwardly, and discreetly elbows Tiergan to say something, please. 

“Uh…Prentice built a garden. You know. In Eternalia. For the Council. Because he’s…a famous gardener. Yep, that’s him, my favourite gardener guy.”

Really, Tiergan? A fucking gardener?

Hey, you used to be really good at Agriculture.

Prentice sighs. Sometimes he wonders how Tiergan has survived years of espionage for the Black Swan. 

Lark smirks. “You two are still as bad at lying as when you were kids. But I’ll let it slide.” They chuckle at their own joke, and Prentice and Tiergan share a look of relief. “Anyway, kids, what do you want? Store’s about to get busy with the morning rush.”

“A cherry ripplefluff for me, and a caramel custard burst for Tiergan,” Prentice says instinctively, and Lark smiles. 

“Same as always, then. You two have a seat, I’ll bring them to you.”

Tiergan grabs them a seat in the corner, out of sight from any curious passersby looking through the window. There’s still a chance of Prentice being caught here, even though the exact details of his arrest have yet to be revealed to the public. 

The Council wants a dramatic Tribunal, tomorrow. An example to warn anyone else with rebel sympathies to stop in their tracks. 

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you,” Tiergan says, resting a hand on Prentice’s knee. “The Tribunal.”

Prentice looks away. He can’t meet his best friend’s eyes, right now, not like this. “I’m fucking terrified, Tiergan.”

“You know, my offer from before still stands.” 

“I know, I know,” Prentice replies, wiping away a stray tear, “but what I said—it was true. If I run, then the Council will be watching you, Cyrah, and Wylie. I can’t put any of you through that, and besides, it would put the Black Swan at risk.”

“Forget the Black Swan, forget about me and Cyrah and everyone,” Tiergan says. “What about you? You’re going to Exile, Prentice. There’s no way back from that.”

“If we did our job right, then there should be.”

Tiergan frowns. “The Moonlark won’t be powerful enough for at least another ten years. And we can’t rely on a child to solve our problems.”

“No,” Prentice agrees, “we can’t. But if I run away, then the Cognates will stop at nothing to find her. I’m just one Keeper, Tiergan, I’m not foolish enough to think that my life is worth more than the Moonlark’s.”

“Of course it fucking is!” Tiergan whispers, leaning further over the table until his face is a mere inch away from Prentice’s. “Damn it, Prentice, I wish you would stop sacrificing yourself.”

“And I wish you would stop worrying about me. I’m doing what needs to be done for the greater good.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about you!” Tiergan’s eyes are wet. “God, Prentice, don’t you get it? I fucking lo—”

“—Got your order, boys,” Lark says, sliding a tray onto the table. The two of them spring apart, and suddenly the distance between them feels like miles. 

“Thank you, Lark,” Prentice says, and he forces his voice to remain steady. What was Tiergan going to say?

They eat in silence, but Tiergan’s hand remains in Prentice’s, and neither can bear to move away. 

Six and a half hours remain on the clock by the time they leave Alexandria’s, and a thick tension hangs in the air between them. 

“I’m sorry,” Tiergan says, as they step outside into the biting Atlantis cold.

“For?” Prentice rests his head on Tiergan’s shoulder—the one positive of Tiergan having three inches on him. 

“I shouldn’t have pushed you. I trust you, more than anyone, and I should’ve trusted you to make your own decisions.” Tiergan sighs. “I’m just—I’m afraid.”

“I know,” Prentice replies quietly. “So am I. But at least I get to spend these eight hours with you. That’s all I would ever want.”

They walk in silence for a moment, until finally, Tiergan says, “You know you’re my best friend, right?”

“Of course.” Some things are just facts of the universe: Alden being a bitch, Livvy’s masquerade masks  absolutely not hiding her identity, and, above all, Tiergan and Prentice always being best friends. 

Tiergan hums. “Let’s go home.”

Home. 

They wander around Atlantis for another half-hour, pointing out old haunts and old friend’s homes and the places that had defined their childhoods, before finally using Tiergan’s leaping crystal to leap to the towering stone castle that they both call home. 

Solreef stands as tall and isolated as ever, but compared to Prentice’s cell, it’s beautiful. It’s as much home for him as his and Cyrah’s apartment is—but honestly, any place where Tiergan is counts as home. 

“Six hours left,” Tiergan announces, lowering his wrist—but not before Prentice notices what’s on it.  

“Is that my watch?” Black with tiny flowers inlaid in gold, a gift from his father when he had graduated his Elite Levels. 

Prentice hadn’t been allowed any jewelry except his registry pendant when he was arrested. In a way, it’s comforting to know that his prized possession—a gift from someone who loved him—is in the hands of someone he loves. 

Tiergan begins to unclasp it, and Prentice rushes to stop him. “Keep it,” he tells him. “I’ll have no use for it, anyway.”

They hold each other’s gazes for a long moment, and Prentice suddenly realizes that he’s still holding Tiergan’s wrist. At some point, he must have unconsciously pulled him closer, too, because they’re standing a mere hair’s breadth away from one another, and Prentice can feel Tiergan’s cool breath on his skin. 

I love you I love you I lo—

He can’t force the words out of his mouth. 

Tiergan steps back, and the moment breaks. “I’m, uh…I’m going to go check if Cyrah and Wylie are inside.” He spins on his heel and runs toward the door without even so much as a goodbye, leaving Prentice alone and confused in his wake. 

What was that? 

Sometimes he feels like Tiergan might feel the same way about him. And maybe it’s a little hypocritical to try and protect Tiergan from the pain of loving only hours after yelling at him for being too overprotective of Prentice, but…he can’t hurt Tiergan anymore than he already has. No matter how much he desperately wants to. 

Tiergan returns a few minutes later with a frown.

“Everything alright?” Prentice asks, to which Tiergan only shakes his head. 

“They aren’t here,” he says, voice quiet. “They’re visiting Cyrah’s parents…who really don’t like you right now.”

Prentice scoffs. “I suppose the arrest has only given them more fuel for the fire.”

“Something like that,” Tiergan replies. “They’re not quite fans of your rebel sympathies, as it stands.” He pauses for a moment, as if contemplating whether he should say his next words. “Your father…isn’t much a fan of you, either.”

Prentice raises an eyebrow. “You have conversations with my father now?” He chuckles. “I’ve only been gone two weeks, I didn’t expect the world to turn upside down.”

“Hey, I’ve made conversation with your father before,” Tiergan protests. “It’s only Cyrah that he doesn’t like. For some reason.”

In some ways, Prentice is glad that Cyrah can’t be Exiled along with him, because he knows that neither set of Wylie’s grandparents would be willing to take him in. Prentice’s father has never approved of Cyrah—for reasons yet unknown—and Cyrah’s parents are much too involved with the Council to ever forgive Prentice for the crimes he’s committed. 

At least Cyrah will always be here for their son, even when Prentice cannot be. 

“Yes, well, maybe I should’ve married you instead of Cyrah. Then I’d have full parental approval,” If only. 

Tiergan laughs, and the sound is like a melody. “From both sides, probably. My mother would love to have you as a son-in-law.” He wrinkles his nose. “You know, excluding the fact that we’re both—us.”

Prentice has always admired Tiergan’s ability to skirt around the topic of the matchmaking system would never allow us to get married and the Lost Cities hates queer people. 

Really, it’s a skill. 

“Do you want to come inside?” Tiergan asks. “It’s cold out here.” He shivers, as if to prove his own point. 

Prentice pulls Tiergan’s jacket tighter around him—it’s slightly loose, but it’s broken-in leather and it smells like lavender, like Tiergan. Part of him wishes he could take it back with him, when he returns to his cell, but he knows that he can’t. 

Like every memory made today, he can only savour it while he has it. 

Prentice follows Tiergan to the living room, using the side entrance to avoid the long, ridiculous stairs to the front door. (Why the Alenefar family had ever installed those stairs is anyone’s guess.) He sprawls out on Tiergan’s massive living room sofa, the most comfortable seat he’s had in weeks.

“Tired?” Tiergan asks, amused. Prentice rests his head on Tiergan’s shoulder, to which Tiergan responds with an arm wrapped around Prentice. 

Sometimes, Prentice marvels at how the two of them fit together, like a puzzle piece. Maybe years of friendship have molded them to complement each other, like salt and pepper or night and day.

Or maybe it’s just his imagination. 

“I don’t sleep much in the cell,” he admits, tracing circles in the fabric of the couch. “It’s too...fake. Unsettling.”

Tiergan hums. “It definitely doesn’t look like the coziest of places.”

“I think that’s the point.” Prentice snorts. “I can’t even remember the last time I slept…I try not to let the strange food schedules get to me, but honestly, whatever they’re doing is working. I almost didn’t realize today was the last day before the Tribunal.”

Tiergan pulls him closer. “Maybe you should sleep now.”

“Now?” Prentice says. “I only get so much time with you, Tiergan, I can’t—”

“—You can,” Tiergan cuts him off. “Prentice, you need it, and you can’t get your mind broken with no sleep or food in your body, you’ll die.”

Prentice raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I’m pretty sure I do.”

Tiergan sighs. “Okay, fine. I just—I don’t want you to force yourself to stay awake and be happy just for me. Just being beside you, seeing you one more time…that’s enough for me.” He looks away, blinking back what Prentice suddenly realizes are tears. “You’ve always been enough for me, Prentice. Just you, as you are.”

“You too,” Prentice mumbles into Tiergan’s shirt—or something close to it. Truthfully, the longer he stays on this comfortable sofa, warm and safe in his best friend’s arms, the more he finds that the fatigue of the last two weeks is weighing on him. And even as he protests Tiergan’s insistence that he nap, he feels his blinks becoming longer and longer and a yawn building in his throat. 

“Wake me up in a little bit,” he tells Tiergan, and he hopes it’s comprehensible through his tired, lazy voice. 

Prentice doesn’t hear the answer, though, as his eyes flutter to a close, and he finds himself drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

When he wakes, there is moonlight streaming through the windows, and he is in Tiergan’s arms as he was always meant to be. 

Wait. Moonlight. 

Prentice shoots up, knocking the knitting needles out of Tiergan’s hands. “Shit, shit, shit, we need to go—”

“You have thirty minutes,” Tiergan says, as if that will calm him down. 

Prentice turns to face him. “I told you to wake me up!”

“I did, and you were crying,” he replies, and Prentice realizes belatedly that Tiergan is crying too. 

“...Oh.”

Tiergan sighs. “Yeah.” 

“Still,” Prentice says, “we should go. I don’t want to risk you getting caught on your way out.”

Tiergan looks pained, at this, and Prentice wishes he could wipe the anguish off his face. But he can’t, and they will leave this room with words unsaid, as they always have. 

“You’re right,” Tiergan says, and his gaze doesn’t meet Prentice’s. “Yeah. Yeah, we should go.” But he doesn’t move, and neither does Prentice, and two are left there on the couch, facing each other with matching expressions of sorrow.

I could tell him. 

But the words don’t leave his mouth, even when he tries. 

A stray tear makes its way down Tiergan’s cheek, and Prentice instinctively reaches up to wipe it away. Then Tiergan leans into the touch, and suddenly they’re closer than ever, arms pressed together and eyes locked mere inches apart. 

“Can I say something stupid?” Tiergan asks, so soft it’s almost a whisper. 

Prentice grins. “Go on, love.” The name slips off his tongue as if he’s said it a million times before—and maybe he has, in another lifetime, but in this one, it’s like they’re seeing each other for the first time again, with new names and faces and minds. 

“I’m not really a poet,” Tiergan says. “I can’t…I don’t know how to say it right—”

“Tiergan, I’m in love with you.”

Silence. 

Did I miscalculate? Prentice is ready to get up and run back to his cell right then and there. 

And then Tiergan spits out a rushed, “We have fifteen minutes left and I’m in love with you too.”

Fuck.

Prentice wants to kiss him. 

But what he wants to do is not what’s logical, right now, so instead he leans into Tiergan’s embrace and says, “I think it’s time we say our goodbyes, darling.”

Tiergan grabs a leaping crystal from his pocket and presses it into Prentice’s hands. “I wish we didn’t need to.”

“I know.” Prentice intertwines their fingers. “I wish we didn’t, either.”

With joint hands, they walk towards the door, and once in view of the moon, they raise the crystal to the light.

As they approach the back entrance to the cell, Prentice cautions, “You shouldn’t follow me. It’s not safe.”

“I won’t,” Tiergan promises, but he doesn’t release Prentice’s hand, and Prentice doesn’t release his. 

And so they stand there, in the dark, two elves with a world of tragedy awaiting them tomorrow, and all Prentice can think is I’m sorry I have to leave you. 

It’s okay. I understand, is the response that rings through his mind, in Tiergan’s crisp voice. You know I won’t stop loving you, no matter how broken you are. 

I think I’ll love you even when I don’t know what love is. 

Tiergan sucks in a breath. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, into the open air, and Prentice wonders if this is a dream. 

“Of course,” he says. And then Tiergan pulls him closer, and their lips are meeting, and they hold each other as if everything is right with the world. Tiergan’s lips taste like honey, sweeter than a final goodbye has any right to be, mixed with Prentice’s own salty tears. He could stand there forever, in his lover’s arms.

Prentice hates to be the first to break away, but he has to. 

“I love you,” he whispers, one hand in Tiergan’s hair. “I’ll love you forever, darling, and I’m sorry.”

Beneath the moonlight, Tiergan’s tears glisten like jewels of his grief. “Goodbye, Prentice,” he says, voice as soft as the wind. 

It takes all of Prentice’s resolve not to kiss him again, right then and there. He steps away, as if the short distance could quell any remaining urge to stay in Tiergan’s arms forever, far away from the Council and the Black Swan and anyone else who could separate them. 

“Goodbye,” he says, a rueful smile on his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow, darling.” 

[emystic]

☯ Have you ever tried to bring peace to a situation? & ✖ How has Tumblr RP changed since you started?

the salty af munday meme / Accepting

@iobartach asked for some salt: ☯ Have you ever tried to bring peace to a situation? & ✖ How has Tumblr RP changed since you started?

☯ Have you ever tried to bring peace to a situation?

I have a long time ago as a teenager, I already told this story before and each time it feels more stupid thinking about it. It certainly taught me to never let two people get you caught up in something that doesn't involve you.

I don't know if this counts too, I kind of think it does though too cause I was trying to calm down a entire thing. So I am counting this story too. Why every time I have to deal with some bullshit and have to coddle people it have to do with ships?

Years ago, on a salty munday meme like this I was talking about what happen with a old muse of mine. Someone decided that it was about him, when I am talking about a situation from like two or three years ago before I even met him. I know because my late mom was still alive and she helped me make this OC. The OC's name was Corrine and she lived in the Pokemon world, specifically in Kalos I think. She was vaguely based on the idea of the Mom NPCs in the games. A mun with a Professor Sycamore was being very pushy hitting on her despite knowing she's married and I didn't like it.

This dude wanted to say it sounded suspiciously like his muse and my two alien OCs at the time who was also married. I tried to tell him it wasn't, but apparently I was too messy of person and not talk to me or whatever. Just the fact he felt that was about him, but if shoe fits wear it I guess. But I already told him about not wanting a love triangle and not keep pushing his muse on mines privately, I am not going to air out shit that already been talked about. So to me if felt like slap in the face considering all the years I knew the dude. I even tried to talked to the dude again years later for him to drag me, and some of the shit was stuff that was dumb as fuck and I was like "Okay, you could have just nah damn. Well, bye."

✖ How has Tumblr RP changed since you started?

I will say that the community or at least the dash circle I see it doesn't feel so toxic or suffocating. The only issue I really see is a lot of preferential treatment to certain aesthetics, characters, and face claims. I don't like the idea of needing a character or a entire blog that fits a criteria for others to find interesting and I try not to make others feel that they have to do that for me. I am not saying people shouldn't be selective, I am a bit myself but just don't be too much of a elitist about it I guess.

I do like the more open sense of communication now though, people will DM for plotting and send asks without being prompted more often which is something I never mind. It makes me smile, because in the past I always the one having to make the first move for so many people.

[destinyresources]

Festival of the Lost Prompts!

Action and speech prompts themed mostly around Destiny’s Festival of the Lost, with a couple more generic Halloween-y ones too. Feel free to edit these prompts when sending to make them fit characters or different scenarios!

Actions:

[ trick ] - for sender to scare receiver in some way (can specify how!).

[ treat ] - for sender to offer receiver a piece of candy.

[ engram ] - for muses to make engram lantern lights together.

[ story ] - for sender to tell receiver a story, scary or otherwise.

[ haunted ] - for muses to explore a haunted sector and fight the headless ones.

[ costume ] - for muses to be dressed up in matching costumes.

[ thoughts ] - for sender to show off their costume and receiver to give their opinion.

[ talk ] - for receiver to tell sender about someone they’ve lost. alternatively, for receiver to tell sender about what they’d do if they lost sender.

[ carve ] - for sender to invite receiver to carve pumpkins (add some ideas for what they could carve into them, if you’d like!).

[ horror ] - for muses to watch a horror movie together.

[ fear ] - for receiver to reveal a fear they have to sender, if they’re willing.

Speech:

“You believe all that stuff? There’s no way what Glint’s been saying is real.”

“Where d’you think we even got the idea for this whole thing? Pre-Golden Age humans are weird.”

“I dunno if I believe in stuff like ghosts, but the masks are fun!”

“So...everyone’s okay with eating the candy that exploded out of the weird Hive things?”

“I heard the Cryptarchs have a whole stash of old Golden Age and Pre-Golden Age movies about this time of year. Wanna go raid the Archives and find something good?”

“I’ve been prepping all year! I even got my Ghost a new shell as a costume.”

“You don’t really want me to wear that, right? ...Right?”

“If we’ve got literal aliens like Eliksni and Cabal walking beside us, stuff that seemed impossible before the Golden Age, then who’s to say stuff like werewolves and vampires don’t exist too?”

“Putting a Hive worm in a little costume would be cute. You can’t tell me I’m wrong.”

[beluovore]

𝐈. 𝐌𝐔𝐍.  Hi, I go by Cyan ( she / her, 25+ ). Thank you for checking out my rules! I do this hobby for fun and consider myself pretty laid-back, so expect my activity to be slow and sporadic a lot of times. I pop in to write whenever I have the time / energy, but may lurk in the meantime. I always read rules and muse pages, I do not send in passwords however. I will not be writing with individuals below the age of 18, nor will I write or discuss content of sexual nature with those below the age of 21.

𝐈𝐈. 𝐃𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃.  I like to keep mine small and personal, filled only with friends and people whose content I enjoy and whom I intend to write with. For my own comfort, I clear out followers every once in a while to ensure it stays that way. If we don’t talk, write, or show interest in each other’s posts, I don’t see the point in being mutuals. That said, I’m patient and don’t mind if it takes us a while to get an interaction off the ground. I don’t ever unfollow for lack of activity.

𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.  Basic roleplay etiquette applies, so please refrain from god-modding, meta-gaming, etc. While I don’t mind winging interactions, I vastly prefer to plot, even if it’s just to establish a general dynamic between our muses. I tend to prioritize these interactions over undiscussed ones. Reply to our threads at your own leisure, there’s no expiration date. Yes, even if it takes months. I myself will reply whenever I feel inspired to do so. I don’t like pushing out replies just for the sake of it. If we’re mutuals, feel free to send prompted or unprompted asks, tell me your plot ideas / wishes, and turn asks into threads without asking me. 

𝐈𝐕. 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓.   I curate my space however I see fit, I trust you will do the same. I’m okay with writing and discussing dark subject matters—within reason. Depiction ≠ endorsement, though if I feel like a portrayal is romanticizing or fetishizing subject matters such as sexual abuse, p*dophila, racism, etc., I will keep my distance. Themes that may crop up include cannibalism imagery, gore, and mentions of mental illness. I do not tag anything beyond nsfw ( #✶ — nsft. ), so please don’t follow if you’re uncomfortable with that! I do not put any nsfw content under readmores. Block / blacklist my nsfw tag in case you don’t wish to see it.

𝐕. 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆. This blog is multi-ship, though writing romantic relationships is not my priority. If they are to happen, I require both ic chemistry and a good rapport with the other mun. If your character is naturally flirty, there's no need to hold back, I won't read anything into it. That said, I enjoy the slowburn of building relationships, romantic or not, and don't mind pre-establishing connections either.

𝐕𝐈. 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐀.  I’m here to write, keep drama away from me. I will not interact with those who promote callout culture, anon hate, vague-blogging, or those who put excessive negativity on the dash. If I don’t vibe with you or find your content distasteful, I’ll hard-block. Do the same to me. No hard feelings.

[thewarpath]

#THEWARPATH is an independent & selective roleplay blog ft. PANAM PALMER of cd projekt red's CYBERPUNK 2077.

RULES.

when  it  comes  to  following,  i  do  consider  myself  selective  because  i'd  rather  have  a  dashboard  filled  with  content  that  i  enjoy  seeing.  i tend  to  forgo  following  people  who  seem  to  be  fans  of  discourse  surrounding  entertainment  rather  than  entertainment  itself,  so  if  i  find  that  your  blog  mostly  consists  of  "hot  takes"  and  "unpopular  opinions"  then  i  will  be  uninterested.  similarly,  if  you  participate  in  call-out  culture,  drama,  witch-hunting,  moral  grandstanding  and  the  like,  then  i  will  be  uninterested.  i made  this  blog  for  fun  and  i want  to  befriend  people  who  are  here  for  fun,  not  to  be  miserable.

also,  i  ask  that  you  only  follow  this  blog  if  you  truly  intend  to  interact.  i  don't  accumulate  followers  for  the  hell  of  it  and  i don't  want  to  be  treated  as  just  another  number  to  a  person's  amount  of  followers.  i  will  take  the  initiative  to  get  things  going  but  should  i  feel  that  you  are  not  reciprocating  my  efforts  after  some  time,  i  will  soft-block  you.  rp  is  a  two-way  street.  this  isn't  to  say  that  i  expect  speedy  replies  or  nonstop  activity  from  you,  just  don't  make  it  seem  as  though  i  have  to  chase  you  because  i  won't.

speaking  of  replies  and  activity,  i  may  be  slow  sometimes,  i  may  be  fast  sometimes,  it  all  depends  on  my  mood  and  the  state  of  affairs  in  my  personal  life,  really.  needless  to  say,  this  is  a  hobby,  so  i  will  get  around  to  things  at  my  leisure.  please  do  not  act  entitled  to  my  time.  if  you  are  concerned  about  whether  I  have  seen  something  that  you  sent  or  the  status  of  our  thread,  feel  free  to  make  that  known  to  me.

i'm  going  to  be  blunt  here  and  admit  that  i  love  having  romantic  and  sexual  connections  for  my  muse!  if  you  see  a  prompt  where  it's  implied  that  the  two  of  our  muses  are  partners,  fuck  buddies,  friends  with  benefits  or  whatnot,  and  you  want  to  send  something,  send  away.  or  we  can  plot  and  discuss  ideas  and  possibilities.  or  we  can  just  do  a  build-up/slow-burn  and  see  where  the  chemistry  takes  things.  all  in  all,  don't  be  shy  if  you  want  some  panam.

now,  i believe  i  should  mention  that  i'm  okay  with  writing  nsfw topics  and  i'm  old  enough  to  do  so.  i  don't  tag  the  common  triggers.  considering  i'm  roleplaying  a  character  from  cyberpunk 2077,  violence,  blood,  gore,  exploitation,  genocide,  etc.,  will  likely  be  depicted  in  abundance  here  whether  through  images  or  writing.  if  that  isn't  something  you  can  handle,  simply  do  not  follow.  any  depictions  that  are  particularly  egregious  or  jarring  may  be  tagged,  but  I  doubt  i'm  going  to  go  out  of  my  way  to  reblog  anything  that  fits  this  criteria,  honestly.

i'm  okay  with  fight  threads!  altercations  are  bound  to  happen  given  that  panam  is  a  bit  standoffish.  if  plotting  these  types  of  threads  are  easier  for  you,  come  message  me  and  we  can  plot,  but  i'm  fine  if  it  just  happens  spontaneously  and  we  wing  it!

i  repeat:  panam is a bit standoffish.  her  views  and  opinions  are  not  reflective  of  my  own.  i'm  not  projecting  myself  onto  her  in  any  way.  her  being  rude  to  your  muse  isn't  indicative  of  how  i,  the  mun,  feel  about  your  muse or you, as the mun.

please  reblog  everything  from  the  source.  i  don't  want  my  activity  feed  to  be  cluttered  so  i  can  keep  track  of  interactions.

please  respond  to  my  answer  to  an  ic  message  you  sent  in  a  separate  post,  do  not  reblog  the  post  containing  the  message/answer  itself.

as for the mun, you can call me belle and refer to me with she/her pronouns!  i am over the age of 21, and  i  have  discord  and  it  will  be  made  available  to  mutuals  who  ask  for  it. 

ABOUT.

NAME: panam palmer. AGE: 26-33 years old ( verse dependent ). GENDER: female. CLAN: aldecaldos. RESIDENCE: the badlands, nusa.

while she'd be the first to admit that she's impulsive and acts before she thinks, her heart is usually in the right place with the intentions behind her actions, even if they are executed recklessly. panam is unwilling to yield when it comes to the things that are important to her, such as the direction of the aldecaldo clan, for example. saul bright, the leader, wants the clan to merge with a corporation to ensure the clan's longevity, while panam believes doing so would sacrifice their freedom, a privilege that is exclusive to nomads and ought to be one they keep in a world that's rapidly becoming enslaved by corporations. their differences in opinion naturally leads to conflict, shouting match after shouting match ensues, and panam decides to head to night city to live independently as a mercenary, leaving her family behind. some of her close friends advise against it, but being stubborn, she proceeds anyway and quickly finds out why they were opposed to her decision. in night city, she gets work under rogue and is partnered with a guy named nash, who ends up betraying her during an assignment to deliver merchandise, both stealing the merchandise and her thornton vehicle. panam then found out he was raffen shiv, a derogatory name for sociopathic nomads who were banished from their own families for some egregious reason. enraged, panam went to rogue and expressed her indignation, and rogue coldly tells panam to resolve the matter herself.

so, with the help of v, a mercenary sent by rogue, panam was able to retrieve the merchandise and bring it to 6th street, the buyers, and retrieve her thorton in exchange for helping v with their business in the badlands.

after being exposed to the treacherous and cutthroat nature of night city, panam returned to the badlands and her family with her tail tucked between her legs, though remained too stubborn to admit that some of them were right that she'd hate it there and would eventually find her way back home.

and she was welcomed back, but her quarrels with saul continued. even though the two of them went out of their way to save each other on separate occasions because they're family, they still disagree on what the clan's future should look like. it's only a matter of time before one backs down or things come to a head...

[polizwrites]

PoliZ's WIP Update - 6 March 2024

Still busy IRL and was out of town this weekend, which cut een more into my writing time/energy.   I touched  3 fics (2 new works & 1 WIPs) for a total of  1136  words.  

On Ao3, I posted: 

Chapter Two of  A Vision of Things To Come - WinterIron time travel shenanigans with wartime!Bucky. 

On Tumblr I posted: 

The Battle of New York -  Steve POV ficlet of the title event. 

I’m juggling  18 😬 active/semi-active WIPs with my current  deadline being the  Bucky Barnes Birthday Bash  (March 10) and the Post July Break Bingo, which ends in April. 

See  below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc.  As always, feel free to send me   prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding  any of these projects  or any other WIPs I’ve got out there.   Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Stony AUniverse Bingo  [SAUB_R1] (ends 15 Feb)

Final count - twenty-one fills for five bingos - hoping this event comes back so I can carry over a couple of squares!   Masterpost forthcoming….   

Captain (America) Bottom Bingo - Round 2 [CABB] (ends 28 Feb 2024)

I signed up for a 3x3 card for this bingo and managed a blackout plus an adopted square - Masterpost forthcoming!  

Bucky Barnes Birthday Bash - [BBE_B4] (fic due Mar 10) 

Another fun quickie event from the folks over at @buckybarnesevents! Participants build a fanwork  ‘cake’  by choosing the following ingredients - a base Universe, a Trope or Quote as the filling, another characters as the frosting and a color, kink and/or date idea as the topping.   

I started up a  Wartime Bucky/Steve fic - working to incorporate Forced Proximity/Only One Bed and Competency/ Strength/ Size Difference Kink     This could also fill my SRB E5 - Oversensitivity/Enhanced Senses and JBB “It’s you. It’s always been you.” squares.  It’s sitting at 184 words so far & am targeting Sat or Sunday to post.   

Post July Break Bingo  [JBB_23p] (Ends Apr 2024)

One fill on my  2x3 non-fandom-specific card - still working on  potential crossovers.

* A1 - “It’s you. It’s always been you.” - See BBE_B4 above 

* B2 - Character’s personality is split into two different beings – I’ve never played with Bucky & the Soldier being two different people, but this seems like the perfect opportunity! Will see what might be a good crossover on one of my open cards.

*  C1 - Touch Starved – another good fit for a Bucky-centric fic. (Steve or Tony or Clint).

Steve Rogers Bingo - Round 3 [SRB_R3] (ends  15 Jun 2024)

Eleven fills and one WIP at the moment  - need to ponder other possible crossovers with my non-fandom cards & BaBB.  

* A1 - Steve can actually dance just fine - Matched this up with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt  [#FFF238 Take My Hand]  for   Finding a Partner -  where Steve & Natasha go dancing (potential pre-slash). It came in at  239 words and will post to Ao3 before the event is over.    

* C5 - Exes to Lovers  -  Maybe pair up with BaBB  Argument?   

* E5 - Oversensitivity/Enhanced Senses - see BBE_B4 above. 

Bucky Barnes Connect Four - Alt Jun-iverse [BBC4_R2]  {Ends May 31 2024}

The good folks over at @buckybarnesevents  have opened this event up early!  You sign up for a single row card of four squares and the challenge is to see if you can combine any/all into a single Bucky-centric AU fanwork - although you can also create 2-4 separate fanworks if you want.  

The combo of prompts on my first card [Reality Show,  Omegaverse, Talent/Manager, Royalty] sparked an idea that I’m about 230 words + misc notes into already -  Alpha!Bucky as a technical prince   who gets talked into joining a reality show that is supposed to match him up with an omega… but there’s a twist!  Planning to pick this back up in the next week or so.  

Hawkeyes Bingo [HB_R2] {Ends TBD} 

Just signed up for this fun Tumblr event - got a 3x3 card and and am looking forward to creating more  Clint-centric content and trying my hand at a bit of  Kate Bishop fic as well!    

*A1 - Werewolf AU -  wrote Shooting for the Moon -  Werewolf!Bucky’s POV on the  second half of A Hairy Situation. It came in at 811 words and will get posted to Ao3 sometime in the next couple weeks. 

* A3 - Awkward Flirting – this might be a good entry into my first femslash fic with Kate/Yelena?    

Build-A-Bucky Bingo [BaBB_R1] {Ends Oct 2024}

Another fun year-long  event from the folks at  @buckybarnesevents!  Each month there’s a list of prompts and you choose (at least) one  each month for your card!

* November:  Crackfic - DONE  

* December: Wingman  - DONE

* January: Wingfic  - DONE *January: Polyamory - DONE

* February -  Fingering -  DONE * February - Morning Sex - DONE

* March  -  The Marriage of Convenience  prompt could slot nicely into the next chapter of   Lady Natasha’s Consort and Lord Steve’s Companion, which is currently sitting at 301 words.

WinterIron Bingo Round 2  [WIB_R2]

Signups are open for Round Two of this super-fun bingo event!

Hoping I get something on my card I can squish into the latest chapter of  My Love is Vengeance - as I’ve picked that back up and am 1109 words into Chapter Seven.

Warm and Fluffy   Bingo  [WFB]   (no end date)

Four  fills on my card, courtesy of   @warmandfluffybingocards  - need to try for another crossover or two!

————

On  other creative fronts:  I am working on Drusilla and Secchan ZenKaiger figures for  commissions.  I’ve finished all my  Marvel Trumps Hate  figures, but still need to create posts (and mail one set). 

If  you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations, check  out Stuffed With Character    over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 150!).   These soft stuffed figures are  mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC   and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design   requests  for any fandom!

[curseofbreadbear]

INCORRECT QUOTES || STILL ACCEPTING! || @feralreason​

feralreason asked: ❛ i’m sick and tired of being called 'mortal’ like, you don’t know that. neither do i. i have never died even once. nothing has been proven yet. stop making assumptions. ❜ - I know I should specify muse but honestly I saw this and needed to send as Dave and can't decide so... I hope that's okay if not nbd jkflgh

❝ YEAH!! Yeah, FUCK SOCIETY. They can't tell you how "mortal" you actually are! ❞

[Okay, so they were kiiinda filling in the blanks on what "mortal" meant -- but they were using their brain to solve this problem via the magic of context clues! Bearing those in mind, mortal probably meant something like "you get to die one day" -- which, in fairness, Phonegingi absolutely wanted to do. They actually had a calendar in their tent just to mark down the days until they presumably would...assuming that they had the same age as the average human. Which they probably did, right??]

❝ I have yet to die either! I think. It is one of my many goals, right alongside "smooch Bigfoot." ❞ [That should show just how important it was.]

[mello-jello]

hi jello!! what about post timeskip levihan? commander hanji is working very hard and rarely, rarely sleeps (let alone eats and bathes properly. its worse than before now though.).

what if one time levi discovers hanji passed tf out due to sheer exhaustion in the most weird and random of places. he doesn’t want to wake them up bc hanji def needs the rest so he carries/tucks her into bed.🥺❤️

JAZZY thank you for the prompt! I kind of combined it with this one too:

Thank you, Anon!

Preview:

Hange gave a small laugh before saying, “Thank you Levi, I feel much better now.”

“Tch, you haven’t even done what we came here to do,” Levi scoffed.

Hange made a confused sound.

“Drop the dish.”

It had been 3 years since Shiganshina. Levi climbed into the carriage and sat across from Hange, who was still reading through her notes from the long and grueling meeting that lasted for the better part of the day. All the highest ranking military officials had been called to the capital to discuss Paradis’s best course of action. Queen historia was there, along with her staff, advisors, and of course Zackley. Levi had been to plenty of these meetings before, but this time was different in a bit of a distressing way.

Over the years, Levi had watched Erwin defend the scouts countless times. From questionable means of gathering information, to explaining away hundreds of lives lost, he always had an answer for everything and he always managed to leave with a favourable image. It was something Levi truly admired and even envied about Erwin.

But now he had been watching Hange flounder. She has indeed improved over the last 3 years, but she still doubts herself and while it might not be known to those around her, Levi can’t help but feel sympathetic to her situation. Today however, the other officials had been particularly ruthless.

“Take a break, Hange,” Levi ordered. Hange just sighed. Then her stomach growled. “Have you eaten today?”

“Uuuuuuuhhh,” Hange mused as she genuinely struggled to remember.

“Tch, there’s your answer,” Levi crossed his arms. The rest of the officials had a big dinner scheduled for tonight, but of course the Survey Corps got shafted and had to leave early in order to prepare. Hange met his eyes again with an exhausted look he was all too familiar with.

“How have you been sleeping?”

“Not great,” she admitted. Levi’s stomach sank. He had dealt with his own insomnia his whole life, but it seems worse on Hange. Perhaps it was the stark contrast from her former bubbly and loud personality. Hange pinched the bridge of her nose and let out another long sigh. Levi couldn’t help feeling inadequate and helpless. He rarely got himself to sleep, how could he help Hange?

Levi looked out the window at the setting sun when he got an idea. He realized what Hange had been neglecting while trying to be a good commander. Something that wasn’t just eating and sleeping. Something that was unique to Hange.

“Hange, there’s one more thing you need to do before we leave.”

Hange raised an eyebrow.

Levi told the driver to wait for them and escorted Hange to the dining hall.

“Levi, we were technically invited, but I don’t think showing up for food after we already said goodbye is a very good look for us,” Hange practically whispered.

Levi opened the doors and they were greeted with a sweet aroma of bread, appetizers, and whatever was going to be the main dish. Hange’s mouth watered. The long elegant table was decorated with ornate candles, beautiful china, crystal glasses, and there were 4 sets of cutlery for each place setting.

“Relax, they won’t be here just yet. They will all be busy getting dressed for dinner.”

Hange grabbed a bread roll and took a huge bite, not bothering to chew before she commented, “I never understood ‘dressing for dinner’ ugh. What’s the point?”

Levi was about to make a half hearted comment about how Hange could never fit in with “civilized” society, but he stopped himself when he saw she was eating and was a little bit more relaxed. He found a small plate of savoury looking appetizers and handed it to her. She immediately took one.

“MMM, Levi!” she exclaimed, pointing at the plate. She popped another in her mouth before saying, “you gotta try these!”

Levi put up a hand and said, “you enjoy.”

Hange enthusiastically cleared the whole platter in less than a minute, and Levi was watching her, endeared at the behaviour. He had missed this side of her. Despite how gross it was, there was a glimpse of the carefree Hange he once knew. A small hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Then Hange belched.

“Disgusting,” Levi waved the air in front of his nose.

Hange gave a small laugh before saying, “Thank you Levi, I feel much better now.”

“Tch, you haven’t even done what we came here to do,” Levi scoffed.

Hange made a confused sound.

“Drop the dish.”

Hange’s one eye widened as she processed what Levi was saying.

“C’mon, you need to blow off some steam. They were total assholes to you today, and for what? You didn’t know the exact amount of your food budget? And yet,” Levi gestured to the banquet. He then picked up a delicate looking wine glass. He held his arm outstretched, and loosened his grip, letting it crash to the ground. “Oops.”

A mischievous smile stretched across Hange’s lips. “Oops,” she mimicked Levi and let the empty platter fall to the floor, breaking into dozens of pieces. She slowly started to lap around the long luxurious set up, like a predator admiring her prey before pouncing.

“Right? And Nile, ugh, what a hypocrite! Giving me shit for not knowing about that small thing, belittling me in front of everyone,” Hange snapped a salad plate against the edge of the table. “It wasn’t too long ago when he would have been the first to admit he had no idea what the first interior squad were up to! We had to find out for ourselves. Erwin was almost hanged!” Hange kicked a chair over on its side.

“Yeah, fuck Nile,” Levi egged her on. He took a seat at the head of the table and started sipping from one of the water glasses.

“Is this his spot?”

Levi shrugged but Hange was already pouring out a glass of wine all over the white seat, staining it a deep crimson. Levi hid his delight behind another sip.

“And did you catch what he said at the end? ‘Some of us have wives to get home to’”, she imitated in a mocking tone as she casually pushed a platter of dumplings off the table. “Yeah, run home, Nile. Run home to Erwin’s SLOPPY SECONDS!”

Levi blew water out of his nose, and before he could react, Hange reached under the short side of the table and flipped it over, sending its contents hurtling across the room. Hange was elated at the result, laughing almost maniacally.

“Idiot,” Levi hissed, grabbing Hange’s wrist and leading her out the side door. He heard footsteps, and so he instinctively dove into nearby shrubbery, taking Hange down with him.

They hid in the bushes for minutes, Levi pressing his hand to suppress Hange’s uncontrollable laughter. It had been so long since she’d laughed like this. It was infectious and Levi might have actually laughed himself, were it not for the fear of getting caught. He had no problem telling the MPs where to shove it, but he didn’t want Hange to get in trouble. Her whole body was convulsing, and it was rattling the leaves around her. Levi used all his body weight to stop her jerky movements.

After about another minute of total silence, Hange tapped Levi’s arm, signalling to let go. He was hesitant, but he obliged. Hange drew a couple deep breaths, fanning herself, trying to calm down from laughing so hard. Levi was transfixed by the way the moonlight danced on her tear-stained face. They stared at each other for a moment before Hange snickered once more, causing Levi to cover her mouth yet again. “You’re impossible,” he said, pushing her head back down.

Once the coast was clear, they ran back to their carriage, hand in hand. Partly because Levi wanted Hange to keep up, and partly because it felt nice to hold her hand. They ducked their heads until they were off of the main roads. A few minutes later, Hange started giggling again.

“What?” Levi asked.

Hange bit her lip playfully as she reached into her coat and pulled out a bottle of expensive wine she must have swiped from the banquet.

Levi rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help his smile. She looked like a child that just got away with stealing more dessert. She looked joyful for the first time in a long time. She yanked out the cork and took a swig before offering the bottle to Levi. He graciously accepted and tasted the wine for himself. It was too sweet for his taste, but he couldn’t deny that it was spectacular.

“That’s nice,” he commented.

“Pfft! It tastes the same as the cheap stuff!” Hange scoffed as she took the bottle back. Any other time, Levi would have teased her and started an argument, but not today. He wanted to cherish this moment. He leaned over to look at the stars through his window. Not a bad ending to an otherwise terrible day.

After Shiganshina, he and Hange had lost so much. Their comrades, friends; life as they knew it had completely changed and they barely had a moment’s breather to come to grips with it all. Levi was unfortunately accustomed to it, but Hange wasn’t. Hange had been so strong through all of this and Levi wanted to find the right words to tell her. Maybe it was the exhaustion they both felt; maybe it was the close proximity, but for some reason, somehow, Levi felt a tiny bit of courage surge through his veins.

“Hey, Hange, I-”

When he turned to look at her, she was fast asleep, neck crooked as she cradled the bottle of wine. Levi smiled at her. She looked peaceful, like she was getting quality sleep. He took the bottle from her arms and gently maneuvered her to a more comfortable, lying down position. He removed his jacket and draped it over her, as a make-shift blanket.

“Goodnight, Four-Eyes,” he mumbled to himself and returned to his seat. Hange slept the whole way home. When they finally arrived in the southern barracks, Levi couldn’t bring himself to wake her up. He quickly ran their luggage up to their rooms, and came back for Hange.

Being as gentle as he could, he scooped up the commander and ignored the curious look he got from the carriage driver. She was taller than him, and her long limbs made the trek a little difficult, but he was determined. Her steady breaths tickled the skin of his neck.

He carried her up the winding staircase and into her quarters. He lowered her on the bed, careful not to go too fast. He cradled her head for a split second longer than he needed too. He took off her long boots one at a time, placing them silently on the floor at the end of the bed. He undid the top two buttons of her jacket and shirt, just for comfort. Then he pulled the blanket up to her chin, and tucked around the sides.

Finally, he removed her glasses and eyepatch, caressing the tender skin underneath. Placing them on her night stand, he got up to leave. The door hinge creaked as he opened it, and Hange stirred.

“Mmm Levi?” She called out.

Levi wasn’t sure if she was actually awake, or if she was sleep-talking. He was still deciding whether he should answer when she continued, “Thank you, Levi. For everything.”

“You too, Hange,” he spoke just above a whisper, as he closed her door.