#intimacy prompt asks

[justaz]

when merlin asks arthur for things, the king is usually inclined to give him what he wants but it is not always guaranteed such as when his emotions cloud his judgement. but merlin’s surefire way of getting arthur to give in? he steps into his space, lays a gentle hand on his arm, and says “arthur, please” and he folds like a house of cards.

[catchameme]

the art of intimacy

a variety of actions or prompts consisting of nonsexual acts of intimacy and devotion! note: prompts are set as the receiver performing the actions/initiating; send "+ reverse!" to swap roles.

[ TOUCH BASED ]

my muse brushing or playing with your muse's hair. my muse reaching for your muse's hand. my muse resting their head on your muse's shoulder. my muse embracing yours in a hug. my muse moving to sit or stand closer to yours. my muse taking your muse's hands in theirs, blowing air into/onto them to warm them up. my muse pulling your muse into a dance.

[ ACTS OF SERVICE BASED ]

my muse cooking yours a delicious meal/dessert. my muse bringing yours breakfast in bed. my muse washing your muse's hair. my muse bringing yours a drink/snack while they are busy. my muse folding your muse's laundry. my muse holding the door for yours. my muse buckling your muse into a vehicle. my muse running yours a warm/hot bath. my muse planning a date/vacation with your muse.

[ OTHER / MISC. ]

my muse sending yours affectionate messages. my muse writing yours a letter. our muses cooking/baking together. our muses playing a game together. our muses sharing space and doing their own thing. my muse reading to your muse. my muse singing to your muse. our muses taking a walk together. my muse shares a dessert with your muse ( and feeds it to them ) my muse sharing a blanket with your muse. my muse gifting yours with flowers. my muse surprising yours at work.

[shiromemes]

𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑐𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑠

Feel free to add context if needed! Add "Reverse" to any action to swap the roles!

[BRUSH] Sender offers to brush receivers hair

[STYLE] Sender offers to style receivers hair

[ADJUST] Sender straightens/fixes receivers clothing (Tie, coat, hair accessory, etc.)

[FASHION] Sender brings over an outfit for receiver to try on

[EAT] Sender brings receiver food while they're focused on another task.

[KISS] Sender kisses receiver on the cheek

[FOREHEAD] Sender kisses receiver on the forehead

[HUG] Sender suddenly hugs receiver

[REST] While out on a walk, sender guides receiver to sit down somewhere and rest.

[OPEN] Sender opens something for the receiver (pickle jar, package, etc.)

[GIFT] Sender gives receiver a small gift (Make sure to name what it is!)

[PAY] Sender pays for receivers meal

[HOLD] Sender hugs receiver and holds them close.

[LIFT] Sender picks up receiver princess style

[HIGH] Sender gets something off the high shelf for receiver

[WATER] Sender brings receiver a water bottle

[HAND] Sender takes receivers hand so they don't get lost in a crowd.

[sensitiveheartless]

hmmmmmmmmmmmmm, another prompt from the intimacy prompt if you don't miiiiiiiiiiiiind

But like, would it be too much to ask for it to be Howl's Moving Castle au? If you'd rather not that's fine-

But like, the tickling prompt, cause like, Dazai's messed with Chuuya one too many times and Chuuya's like "fuck it, face the consequences, mackerel-"

Dazai was no longer safe for the rest of that day-

Everyone else in the castle continues to suffer the horrors of living with these two weirdos(affectionate)

[noturlondonboy]

Your fellow elder ready to prompt you with some Bishova Touching 35

thank you~ 💖

Touching #35- kissing their bruises and scars

——

Kate Bishop was no stranger to bruises. She always had one somewhere, one way or another- her tendency to jump headfirst into danger and challenge every random criminal she met made injury inevitable. If her knuckles weren’t red and swollen, that just meant she hadn’t been training enough. If her cheeks weren’t aching from getting thrown on her face then she wasn’t working hard enough. Pain was a distraction. Pain was constant. Pain was good.

Until she met Yelena.

The woman was a mystery to her- one she wanted to completely uncover. She was mesmerizing, and insane, and stronger than anyone Kate had ever known. It drove her crazy, to see the assassin so close to her and still feel like she knew so little. But they got close, faster than Kate expected. Before she knows it they’re somehow dating, and she’s the luckiest girl in the world. If you asked Yelena, she would say the same.

Kate’s addiction to pain was never unnoticed. Yelena knew how hard she pushed herself, how much she loved the ache in her muscles and the blood on her lip. And it bothered her, but she understood. The want, the need. The pleasure it brought to be so beaten, even in victory. She understood, so she said nothing; just silently patched them both up whenever it was needed.

But she decided that staying silent may have been a mistake the day Kate comes home inches from death.

The archer is barely conscious, bleeding from her head and mouth and cradling a broken wrist to her chest. Her shoulder looks dislocated. There’s a bullet wound in her thigh. Yelena can see gashes and rips in her suit and skin, dark, painful bruises blooming over her taut stomach.

She wants to scream and cry and kill whoever did this to her Hawkeye.

Kate is different after that. Quieter. Timid. Reluctant to go on patrol, hesitant to accept missions. Yelena sees it all, and it breaks her heart in two. She starts taking whatever position Kate was supposed to have, willingly going out with Barton to take down street level crime. Kate isn’t well. She can be good for her. She can DO good for her.

The first time they get close to having sex after Kate heals up, the archer stops her, tears in her eyes and heart beating with anxiety.

“My darling, what is it?” Yelena says gently, cradling her lover close.

Kate can only cry for several minutes, but eventually she curls into Yelena’s warmth. She mumbles something, and Yelena leans closer, asking her to repeat it. “I don’t feel… pretty- anymore,” Kate chokes out, her face pressed into Yelena’s neck.

Something hot flares in the assassin’s gut, and she pulls away to cradle Kate’s cheeks. “Malen’kiy yastreb…” she whispers, waiting for Kate to meet her eyes. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever been given the honor to lay eyes on.”

Kate stares at her for a moment, lips trembling. “But I’m… I’m broken. My body is… disgusting. The scars, the- the bruises that never go away.”

Yelena shakes her head so hard it nearly makes her dizzy, and she kisses Kate insistently. “Those scars are proof of your strength, your loyalty, your fight, your power.” She's moving back down Kate’s body, marveling at the marred skin underneath her lips as she kisses and nips softly at the scars that her Artemis hates so much. “These are beautiful. You are so beautiful. You are my everything.”

Kate is sobbing quietly, watching Yelena with so much love swelling in her chest she swears she could burst. The blonde explores her body softly, carefully, as if it’s the first time she’s ever seen it. Her fingers trace over the map of pain on Kate’s skin, turning it into love and adoration.

“Kate Bishop, you are perfection,” Yelena murmurs, her lips so warm and so soft as they worship the long, jagged lines over her ribs. “You are nothing but ethereal.”

And Kate thinks that if that’s how Yelena sees her, maybe she can try to look at herself that way too.

[cliophilyra]

14 and 19 for the intimacy prompts! xo @hardly-an-escape

Initimacy Prompts

@hardly-an-escape & @bidisasterevankinard chose almost the same ones (14 & 19 and 13 & 14) so I have combined them! Thanks guys for the prompts - sorry it has taken sooo long!

This is a little bit sadder than I planned but I hope it's sweet enough to make up for that.

13 - Cuddles

14 - Sharing drinks

19 - Back scratches

Updated version now on AO3! I would definitely recommend reading that version instead.

Buck smiles softly as he opens the sliding door to their garden and takes in the view. Tommy is sitting in one of the reclining yard chairs Buck convinced him to buy once they’d made the neglected yard into somewhere they might actually want to spend time. Tommy had rolled his eyes at the garden furniture and planters, hummingbird feeders and climbing plants, but he spends more time out there now than Buck does. His eyes are closed and Buck is pretty sure he’s asleep in the fading evening sunshine. There’s a book on his chest and a bottle of beer half-drunk beside him, condensation pooling on the table below it. Buck’s heart feels several sizes too big for his chest.

Part of him doesn’t want to wake his boyfriend but today hurt more than any day for a long time, and he needs him more now than he can resist. He crosses the yard, carefully swinging a leg over Tommy and sitting down in his lap. Tommy starts awake, his hands flying to Buck’s hips as his eyes snap open.

Buck smiles down at him. “Hey baby,” he says softly, leaning down for a kiss.

Tommy kisses him back fondly, “Jesus christ sweetheart,” he laughs, shaking his head.

Buck runs his hands over his chest, feeling his heart thumping under his palms. Alive. “Sorry,” he says softly.

“No you’re not,” Tommy laughs, leaning in for another kiss.

“Mmm,” Buck picks up Tommy’s beer from the table and takes a long pull, giving him a show as he tips his head back. Condensation dripping from the base of the bottle to run down the neck of his shirt.

“I think that’s mine,” Tommy smiles, reaching up to take the bottle back. He takes a mouthful himself before putting it back on the table and pressing his lips to Buck’s throat, chasing the drops of water down to his clavical. Buck hums, shifting in his lap. “Get your own,” Tommy says with a smirk, moving his hands down to grip Buck’s ass in both hands. Buck moans softly against his neck. Half of him very much wants to just follow where this going but the moment he closes his eyes he’s back there. His breath catches and he stills, breathing in the scent of Tommy’s skin as he tries to push the feeling down and fails, shaking in his boyfriends arms.

Tommy’s hands still immediately and he reaches for his shoulders, pushing him back gently. “Sweetheart?” he says and the concern in his voice is all it takes to bring the whole terrible, horrible, not good day welling up in Buck’s chest. His lips flatten into a line as he tries to hold back the tears.

“Oh sweetheart, what happened?”

“It—it--it was, fuck--,” Buck swallows hard. “There was a woman...she was with her kids...in a car.” He leans forward again, resting against Tommy’s chest, closing his eyes as he listens to his heart beating steadily under him. He feels Tommy nod in understanding.

“She didn’t make it?”

Buck shakes his head, feeling the tears start, damp spreading through Tommy’s shirt under him. He can still hear the cries of the kid, the inhuman wailing as he and Eddie dragged him from the mangled wreckage, away from his mother’s body. He gasps, choking on a sob as Tommy’s arms wrap around him, drawing him closer. He presses his face into his chest, twisting as if he could merge himself into Tommy, make himself a home inside him.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, he knows enough to know there’s nothing he can say. Instead his fingers trail up and down Buck’s back, blunt nails scratching gently over his shirt, soothing and slow.

[spaceratprodigy]

*gulp* deacon/iris "please just kiss me" intimacy ask........ NYE party- (i am shot)

@oldworldwidgets — [ intimacy prompts ]

It's in the stars, it's been written in the scars on our hearts

We're not broken, just bent, and we can learn to love again

pose reference

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Sambucky for the prompt thingie, sitting in their lap 🥰

From these prompts

Oooh, nice choice 👀 What about a little post-endgame fic?

Sitting in His Lap

The quinjet jostled.

And.

Sam was usually pretty good on his feet. He had very good balance. He was a gymnast once.

But.

At the same time.

Sam was drunk. He was drunk and they had just saved the world, the universe, and he had only wandered into the quinjet to get a little breather from the party outside.

Sam had expected to land on the bench of seating inside the quinjet. What he found was something much softer.

"Sam?"

Oh.

"Bucky?" asked Sam, turning to face the man he had just - well.

Fell into the lap of. Literally. Buck stared at Sam with those intense eyes of his and - and Sam couldn't breathe. He couldn't look away. It was like that European Tour all over again; the small moments of almost. It was like the brief rest times Sam had in Birnin Zana; the touch, the closeness that was all Sam wanted when they were alone. It was like when those lips almost met his right before that final battle.

"Looking for a place to escape the party for a while too?" murmured Bucky softly, his gaze flittering between Sam's eyes and Sam's mouth.

Sam.

Wrapped his arms around Bucky's neck.

Because.

They just saved the world. The universe. Maybe Sam could take one leap of faith here. Be selfish for once.

"Only if you're there," said Sam as he leaned close to give Bucky a kiss; chaste and hesitant, and okay, maybe Sam was a little nervous to push this boundary.

But.

But Bucky deepened it. Like this was a relief. Like this was what he was waiting for. Like this was all he ever needed too.

And Sam got lost in that kiss.

Got lost in so much more.

The party, but a distant memory in Bucky's arms.

[zenkindoflove]

Why, hello there! For your Intimancy Prompts, 1 and 35 for Erixius?? I don’t know if it’s allowed to send you more than just one (⠀you can always decide which one calls you more, ofc 𖹭⠀).

Hi friend! Thank you for sending me Erixius prompts! Both of these, of course, spurned ideas in me immediately. 35. running your finger down their spine I am actually going to save for Eris Week because it gave me a great idea for one of the prompts. So thank you!!!

But here, I have put a short one-shot (~900 words) for 1. a palm kiss

He pressed his lips to Eris’ palm. Eris watched as his eyes closed, his dark lashes falling heavily over his cheeks. His unshaven scruff tickled the tips of his fingers as his soft lips skated across his hand and down to his wrist. He kissed him there too, just over his fluttering pulse point.

Alexius pulled back and looked up into Eris’ eyes. The smile that crested over his face was as warm and inviting as the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. That smile was the one that flashed before his eyes any moment he felt like sinking into his own despair, tired and worn from centuries of pretend. It pushed him through the devastating moments of finally taking what belonged to him, the Autumn Throne. Even though Eris always had a purpose, a place, and a drive, it wasn’t until he met Alexius that it all felt like it would have meaning in the aftermath. It lit a new fire inside of him, one that didn’t burn everything it touched. This fire was a beacon through the darkness. A hope that his life after Beron could be something worth living. More than just the absence of pain and fear. But a life with smiles like this one that he gave to him so freely and without expectation.

It took a day and a half to finally get Alexius out of Day and into Autumn. As soon as Eris had a free moment away from the duties of subsuming his new place as High Lord, he winnowed to Day and burst into Alexius’ cottage on the palace grounds. Alexius wanted to leave with him immediately, but they had both of his parents to contend with who were shocked to find out that Alexius was not only mated, but to a newly minted High Lord. There were many tears, especially from Alexius’ mother, and it finally took Helion stepping in to convince her that it was okay for Alexius to leave. After all, he finally had reunited with his mate before Beron’s body even had time to finish burning back into the atmosphere. He told Alexius’ mother that he wouldn’t want to wish that kind of separation for one more day on his kin.

He didn’t take Alexius to the Forest House first. Instead, he winnowed them here. To his favorite place in Autumn. They sat on the soft, gray sand of a beach where the tide was low and the surf calmer than the raging waves that crashed against rocks up and down the eastern coast. Autumn beaches were not for lounging in the sun and dipping into the ocean to cool off from a blistering day. These beaches came with a bitter chill, the cool air frigid off the foaming water. They were for quiet observation and the occasional cavernous adventure. Eris came here often when he needed solitude and a place to throw his worries into the sea.

He brought Alexius here first because he knew as soon as they returned to the Forest House, everything would change. Their union would not be met with welcoming smiles and heartfelt congratulations. Each part of the journey from here would be a fight for acceptance. Acceptance that he would demand with every inch of his new authority. Responsibilities and customs would be thrown at their feet. Alexius, of course, in his endless optimism was ready to face it all for him. Eris knew that Alexius didn’t understand entirely what it was he promised to uphold by joining him at his side, but he would not condescend to him. They would find a way, and in time, it would be right. It had to be.

So, he brought him here, to share his quiet with him.

Alexius had understood that and stayed silent for longer than Eris had ever seen him. But of course, Alexius never let him linger in solitude for long. He always intended to drag him out, kicking and screaming if he must. It was, after all, how they began. Alexius never accepted no for an answer, no matter how many times Eris lashed out and pushed back. He let Eris sink his teeth in him and used it to his advantage, catching Eris off guard at every turn. Alexius wore him down, stripping away each and every bit of guarded defense with his persistence until all that was left was the desperate need to be seen and held. And Alexius had his arms wide open, always ready to catch him in the fall.

Alexius kissed his palm and smiled, and Eris knew that they would need to talk about everything that had happened and what would be. But he wanted just a few more minutes of quiet with him. He pulled the hand that held his and flipped it over, returning the kiss. Alexius cupped his face, and Eris could feel his callouses graze across his smooth jaw. He nuzzled against Alexius’ hand and sighed, breathing in the salty air and his mate’s scent all at once. It soothed the rumbling anxiety threatening the serenity.

Alexius sighed too, resigned but content. He pulled Eris to him to place his head on his shoulder. Eris wrapped an arm behind Alexius’ back and dropped a kiss onto his neck. They stared out at the sunset, withholding their problems from the light.

[grandma-susan]

Send 🍲 to see if my muse would share food from the same dish or finish your muse's leftovers.

[allylikethecat]

ugh like picture it.. sitting on your partners lap & falling asleep to their heart beat full of angst/hurt/comfort w matty & george.. dare i’d say you’d win a noble peace prize

Remember when I said this morning I was going to write something from the Sleep Prompts list next? Apparently that was a lie 😂

Also, I apologize that this has taken me literal months to finish! Anon I hope that you're still here and that this was worth at least some of the overly long wait.

I think I was missing working on the A&E fic a little bit... because we have a sick Fictional!Matty in this one... I hope you like it! Thank you so much for sending this prompt in, in the first place! I'm sorry again it took me so long to finish!

This is from the physical intimacy prompts list which can be found here. I am always taking more prompt requests even if it apparently takes me months to finish them - I promise I WILL finish all of them eventually though!! I have a spread sheet!

❤️Ally

Sitting in your partner's lap & Falling asleep to your partner's heartbeat 

George was angry. He was angry at Jamie and the rest of their team for scheduling so many back to back tour stops. He was angry at Matty for hiding how sick he was. But most of all, he was angry at himself for not noticing. He was angry that he hadn’t noticed the way Matty had been turning away from him in bed, desperate to hide his fever and wheezing breath. He was angry that he hadn’t noticed Matty’s shaking hands, and that he was swallowing ibuprofen and tylenol like they were tic-tacs, alternating every three hours. That he hadn’t noticed that Matty wasn’t drinking, that his cough wasn’t the ever present smoker’s rattle from a pack a day, a pack he hadn’t touched in a week, but rather infection settling into his lungs, filling with fluid to drown him on land. 

Matty had stumbled down the hallway as soon as they exited the B stage, the roar of the crowd still echoing in their ears. He had grabbed at his chest, gasping and choking on phlegm, coughing so hard he couldn’t even hope to catch his already short breath, dropping to his knees as his shoulders shook. There was a medic on him instantly, getting him upright, pressing an oxygen mask to his face. George watched in horror, frozen in place, his sweaty shirt clinging to his back, still clutching his drumsticks as Hann nudged him forward, reminding him he should go with Matty as the medic whisked him away. George wondered if they were supposed to tell someone they were leaving as he followed Matty into the back of the ambulance.

George was afraid, curled in on himself, trying to seem smaller and stay out of the way as the medics worked on Matty, listening to his heart, wincing at the crackling in his lungs. He’s not having a heart attack, don’t worry, one of the medics had tried to assure him kindly. George wasn’t sure how that was supposed to help when Matty still couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure when they became old enough for a heart attack to be a valid concern. George squeezed his eyes shut, his stomach flipping as they sped out of the venue and down the congested city streets. The perks of playing in arenas designed for ice hockey, he thought, squeezing Matty’s hand, the ambulance was parked inside the tunnel. 

George ran his hand down Matty’s back, fingers brushing each bump as his spin curved through the opening of his hospital gown. He had lost weight over the course of his illness and George hated that he was just now noticing, not realizing Matty was belting his pants a hole tighter, moving his food around his plate without eating it, nausea churning in his belly. 

Matty had been agitated, shivering with fever and fatigue clinging to George as if he was the only thing tethering him to this earth. The doctor that examined him was shocked that he had made it through a two hour concert with his fever, with his low oxygen levels, with his lungs hitching on every breath, catching against the infected fluid. Not only that he had been able to perform, able to sing, but that it wasn’t the first two hour show he had performed that week. 

The doctor ordered a chest x-ray that led to a pneumonia diagnosis. Matty had coughed, rasping that he wasn’t some sickly Victorian child despite what Twitter might think, that he was going to be fine. George didn’t comment on the fear in his glassy eyes. 

He was started on IV antibiotics and fluids, an oxygen mask fitted over his face to help him breathe easier, even if Matty kept taking it off to cough wetly into his elbow. He spat thick green mucus into a tissue, his nose wrinkling in disgust each time he would weakly toss the tissue into the bin they had placed next to his bed. After a while George started taking the tissues from him, Matty too weak to even lift his head and toss them himself. 

Matty tried to argue that George didn’t have to stay, even though it was clear to George, clear to anyone with eyes, that Matty didn’t want him to leave (not that George would ever leave.) He insisted that he was fine, even as he looked anything but, his cheeks pale and his eyes sunken, his breath shallow as he coughed. He told George to go back to the hotel, told him to go shower and rest. But even as he spoke he kept his fingers tangled in the fabric of Geroge’s stage button down. Even after all these years, Matty didn’t like to let himself need others, he didn’t like to be what he thought of as a burden even though he was anything but. George had just climbed into the hospital bed with him, and pulled him into his lap, assuring him that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Matty had his cheek pressed to George’s chest, the steady beat of his heart, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled, lulling him to sleep like a toddler on a car ride, their legs tangled together on the rough sheets. Matty had fought at first to keep his eyes open, grumbling that he wasn’t tired. But the antibiotics made him woozy as his adrenaline crashed, his body no longer in a desperate survival mode. He started to relax, realizing he was safe now, wrapped in George’s embrace, getting the treatment he needed. George could feel him trembling in his arms, trying to time his own breaths to the beat of George’s heart. 

“Rest Matty,” said George, pressing a kiss to the top of Matty’s head, his sweat damp curls tickling George’s nose, as his breathing slowly evened out. He didn’t get a response, Matty growing heavier in his arms as he finally fell asleep. 

[labselkie]

For both Liv and Agatha, whoever you haven't gotten to answer any of these for. 💜💜💜

What’s something they do that you think is just absolutely adorable?

Are you able to pinpoint a reason as to why you love them? What is it?

How do you do to comfort them when they’re down?

What do they do to get you flustered on purpose? What do they say when they do?

yay!!! i’m gonna do just the liv ones,,, ik i flip between them too often nd i apologize for that

5- [The first one in the ask]

She says I’m cute when I get excited, but you should see her! It’s taken both of us a bit to get used to opening up, but she’s by far the cuter one. She gets all smiley, and you can see her sharp teeth when she does that!

11- [Third one]

I try to talk through it, that’s the simple answer- Find the root of the problem, and then try to go from there. But sometimes she goes quiet, she’ll get a bit defensive, but I know when to stop. By then, I’ll usually just sit with her and hold her..

10- [Last one!]

Almost every night she gives herself the job of helping me remove the actuators’ harness, and after doing it for so long, she’s devised some plan to try and surprise me. It’s, you know, mainly just the way she touches me during that. She’s so reverent, not like she only cares about how expensive the machinery is, but like she cares about me. Her claws will just barely skim over me, she gets closer, she lowers her voice.. I don’t know if it’s on purpose, but it’s effective

[sensitiveheartless]

Ummm hey for the intimacy prompts could u do bridal carries or holding hands in stressful situation? I don't think uve done those yet but sorry if you already have

Hiii I finally did this one @seawarrenmess and anon! It took me a long time to decide how I wanted to do it alskjdjdjd and in the process it’s become kind of a whole comic? (Scribbly comic, but a comic nonetheless alskjdjd) So here’s the link to that, and then here’s a little bonus doodle with extra hand-holding :0

[daisyachain]

There are places where I think a sex scene can dramatically impact a story in a way that enriched the viewing experience and conveys important information. There are movies and/or tv shows in which this happens. I haven’t seen any of them. So much of the time it’s there to do exactly what it says on the tin. A woman and a man are banging. Sure. Fine. Happy for them. It’s just a literal scene used to pull a bit of a ‘well you didn’t think THEY would be involved’ plot twist or a ‘we’re so edgy’ signal. The only show so far that I’ve seen that uses sex scenes as an actual tool of storytelling is Black Sails, and the reason it works in Black Sails is that the sex is Bad. People are bored. People are distracted. The characters are so bound up with the plot that it’s physically prevented them from fucking like normal human beings. That works. The rest doesn’t

[azems-familiar]

Hi!! I just consumed the entirety of the emet-selch/g'raha fics that you and avtorsola have written and holy crap??? The way you write Emet-selch is so beautifully haunting I'm bouncing off the walls in glee. Idk how to describe it but you've encapsulated the vibe of a dead man walking? The way he's being crushed by his loneliness and his people and his duty but it's also the only thing that is still slowly dragging him forward? Which is gloriously contrasted with the spark of hope and longing that he allows to shine through the cracks. Ugh. It's too good. Thanks so much for not killing him I don't think my heart could've taken it.

akfdjghkj thank you so much!! this ask singlehandedly watered my crops and sparked my motivation to go back to wrestling with the promptfic i'm working on for them that i've been fighting for the past few days.

i'm really glad all those bits came through - i've definitely been really trying to get that feel of this man who is walking on the edge, who is utterly exhausted by his only motivation, just drowning in depression in the lowest point of his life. it's very much how he reads to me in game! i also think that shb is when we see him tip off that edge; hope is so important but when you're that low, having hope and then losing it can absolutely be worse than never having it at all, and i tend to interpret his actions on Mt Gulg/Amaurot/etc as the result of a really nasty spiral. we were originally planning on killing him but....uh. it didn't happen. so now we have an outline of a whole bunch of things happening in endwalker for him XD

he's going to have a very fun time when we cure his tempering :D

[shroudkeeper]

During a confession - Kiss meme!

First Kiss Prompt

Unfortunately, no words would grace my ears from her; the sound always died before leaving her lips, yet her hands spoke to me of what she yearned to say. Choreographed with grace and elegance, she finally unraveled her secrets to me, yet the fear in her eyes spoke of the magnitude of such a burden. Perhaps she assumed I would shun her, pull away from her. Shepherd of the Souls. What a celestial title she bears, even if the world she belongs to is veiled in darkness, a world I do not belong to. Regardless, I vowed to stand at her side, knowing the complications that would arise in doing so. Having full knowledge of what may transpire, but I failed her before, breaking her trust, I would loathe to find myself doing it now. So I will seal this promise with a kiss each time, melt away these doubts, these fears that have taken seed in her heart. Each word I shall repeat upon the tenderness of her lips until it is embedded into her heart and memory.

❝ Whatever you are, wherever you came from, will not change the course of this path I chose. Spirit, mortal, otherworldly. You are here, and to me, you are just Lady Takahashi, the flower of your clan.. the woman I have fallen in love with. ❞