#slowly but surely wading through these prompts from literally like??? six months ago???

[sweetbitterpdf]

cliché tropes: 5 + 48 💕💕

( 50 cliché tropes and prompts !!! )

lauren!! my dearest!! you sent this to me like a million years ago, but here i am with a little thing for you!! i hope it’s alright!!

5. Playing with their hair while their head’s in your lap.

48. I called you at 2am because I need you

1.4k / insomniac lucas, tea, blankets, reading aloud

—

Sometimes, their nights are like this.

It doesn’t happen too often— especially considering they spend the majority of their nights together, these days— but sometimes Eliott will wake up in the middle of the night, check his phone, and see this:

[01:33— MESSAGE FROM: Lucas 💙🦔]

are you awake right now? can i call you?

[01:40— MISSED CALL FROM: Lucas 💙🦔]

The missed call is from nearly twenty minutes ago. Lucas isn’t the sort to bombard him with messages and calls, even when he needs something. One text and one call is typical for him, in moments like these. Eliott is dialing Lucas’ number without having to think about it, and he already knows the conversation that waits for him on the other end.

“Hello?” Lucas’ voice is far too awake for the time of night, and he knows the kind of night that this will inevitably turn into— the sort where Lucas’ thoughts are keeping him awake, where he refuses to wake any of his roommates, for fear of disturbing them. 

When he calls Eliott, because he’s the only one that he trusts enough. The thought of that makes Eliott feel warm, makes him feel important.

“Hi love,” He says, lets his voice drip with affection, with love. Lucas sighs on the other end, relaxing already— if only a bit— and it makes Eliott smile. “You okay?” The silence that follows on the other end is answer enough. It stretches out between them, tangible, before Lucas speaks.

He remembers when their relationship was still fresh, when the answer to that question was always yes, when they were scared of showing themselves to each other. Now, though, Eliott can hear Lucas take a breath, before saying, “I can’t sleep.”

“Any reason why?” Eliott’s no stranger to Lucas’ insomnia. Some nights it comes with a cause, and others, it comes out of nowhere. In any case, he doesn’t like the thought of Lucas being lonely all night.

“No.” And then, “I don’t know.” Eliott still isn’t sure if tonight is of the former or latter variety. “I wanted to hear your voice, I’m sorry if I woke you up.” Some of the nights that they spend together, when Lucas’ sleeplessness gets the better of him, is some of Eliott’s favourite nights. There’s something about the wee hours of morning that soften everything around them, that slows everything down— Eliott can’t get enough of it, especially when Lucas is curled up at his side. He’s ready to go see him, to keep him company through the night.

“It’s okay.” Keep him company, or better yet— “Do you want to come over?”

“Eliott, it’s two in the morning.” Lucas’ tone is the same as when Eliott waxes poetic about Lucas’ eyes, when he burns his second piece of toast in a row, when he covers him in kisses to keep him from leaving. This time, though, Eliott can sense the slight bit of something underneath his gentle chide, a sort of pleading that he’s more than happy to indulge.

“I know, but if you want me to, I’ll come over, and then we can come back here.” Lucas is silent, on the other end. “That’s what I have a bike for.” This isn’t the first time he’s biked to Lucas’— but it’s certainly the latest.

“Okay.” He hears, quietly, from the other end.

“Okay?”

“If you could, I’d appreciate it.”

“Okay. I’ll be over in a bit.”

—

A little while later, Eliott approaches Lucas’ building. He softens, when he sees him stood just inside the door. He had texted Lucas a few minutes before— a quick ‘almost there!’— and as his bike comes to stop, he’s off it and bringing Lucas into his arms a beat later.

“Hi,” He says, pressing a kiss into Lucas’ hair. “You okay?”

“Hi.” Lucas hugs him back. Eliott can feel Lucas’ fatigue in his shoulders. “Better, now. Since you’re here.” They kiss, quick, before Eliott picks his bike back up again.

“Hop on, let’s go.” Lucas stands on the back, grip firm on his shoulders, and they set off. Eliott goes extra slow, pays an extra amount of attention to Lucas’ grip on him in his tired state. It’s not a long ride, but it takes him a bit longer than usual. At one point, Lucas leans down, and Eliott is concerned for a brief moment, before he feels his lips, gentle on his shoulder. Soon after, they arrive back at his building, and in his apartment. He leans his bike against the wall, and leaves Lucas on the couch.

Lucas runs into nights like these often enough that Eliott’s developed a bit of a protocol:

Step one— turn on kettle to make Lucas’ favourite tea. Lucas had mentioned it offhandedly one day, when they were at the grocery store. The next day, Eliott had taken a solo trip back, to pick up the specific brand of peppermint sleepytime that Lucas had pointed out. He’s now made it enough times for him, that he knows exactly how Lucas takes it: one sugar and a splash of milk.

Step two— bring the fluffiest, softest blanket possible onto the couch. Wrap him up, hold him close. Which Eliott does, with great care. He sets the mug of tea on the coffee table— as well as another, for himself, right beside it— He holds the blanket out to Lucas, which he takes, a small grateful smile on his face in the low light. He wraps it around himself before laying down, his head gently placed in Eliott’s lap. One of his hands go into Lucas’ hair on instinct, running careful fingers through it gently. Lucas sighs, smiling up at him, and Eliott kisses his softly, because he can’t resist.

“Do you need anything else?” He asks, looking down at him again. The way Lucas returns the gaze— as he usually does— makes Eliott feel full of love. That’s the way Lucas affects him— he fills Eliott with love until there’s no room left for anything else. And he hopes, every single day, that he does the same. 

“No— thank you, Eliott.” In the beginning, during the first few times this had happened, Lucas had insisted that Eliott go back to sleep. Now, though, it’s unspoken between them, that when they sleep, they’ll do it together. “Could we read some more? If you’re in the mood?” Another one of their things, their special activities— Lucas loves being read to. When Lucas told Eliott, it was another thing on the ever-growing mental list that Eliott keeps, reasons why we are soulmates, why the world intended for us to be together— because it just so happens that Eliott loves to read aloud.

“Of course,” He says, reaching for the book on the table. “Where were we, do you remember?”

“Time passes,” Lucas says softly, curling a little closer into him. “Seven, I think.” Eliott flips through the pages until he finds it, skimming the previous chapter to see if it jogs his memory, which to his delight, it does.

“Right! Okay,” Eliott grips the book in one hand, playing with Lucas’ hair with the other. “Night after night, summer and winter, the torment of storms, the arrow-like stillness of fine weather, held their court without interference…”

Not even half an hour has passed when Eliott glances down at Lucas once more, now asleep in his lap. He flips back a few pages, dog-earing the corner. He places the book down on the sofa beside him, and shakes Lucas gently.

“Lucas,” He coos. Lucas only groans softly in response. “Lucas, dearest, hey,” Lucas finally cracks an eye open, squinting up at him. “Let’s go to bed, you’ll hurt your back if you sleep on the couch like this.” Lucas groans again in protest, but sits himself up. Eliott does too, as he stretches out his arms and legs. Lucas stands, swaying sleepily beside him, and so Eliott takes his hand, leading him down the hall and into his bedroom. Lucas immediately settles into bed, and Eliott settles behind him, pulling him close.

“Goodnight, Eliott.” Lucas mumbles. Eliott, smiling, presses a kiss to the nape of his neck. He listens for Lucas’ breathing to slow and even out, the signal of sleep, before letting sleep take him as well.

[wadeillinois]

-- Event #2, 

“Shitty day for a funeral,” Red Johnson remarks to his eldest daughter, looking out onto the glistening grass of the empty field across from Wade United Methodist Church. Church services for Josie have just ended. It’s been raining most of the morning; the clouds have cleared for now, but the sky remains an ominous shade of grey, like any second the clouds could part, and a flood would come down from the heavens. Part of Red wishes it would; to him, it would be apropos. 

Of course, any day is a shitty day to bury your wife of forty-something years. Red can’t exactly remember how many years they were married; Josie was the memory between the two of them. Now, he’s got to remember things for himself… He’s lucky she’d been so meticulous about writing names, phone numbers, and addresses in her tiny little blue book, or he’d have had to put up posters to invite people to this goddamn travesty of an event. Part of him is still hoping no one will come. Then again, he knows very well Josie was well-adored in the town, and the majority of its residents will probably stop through to offer their condolences. Shouldn’t that be comforting? Maybe if she’d died of natural causes, but not with a murderer on the loose.

Next stop is Kane Funeral home. A bright white colonial with black shutters, and a red door. It’s picturesque, too well kept to be natural. It’s almost sad that some little family doesn’t call it home. No, it’s just another stop on the road of the dead-- the last one before they meet their final resting place. Josie’s body has sat, rotting as slowly as science can ensure, at the Allen County Coroner office for the last month after an extensive series of testing, podding, and poking. Every couple days they’d move her body from cold storage to the sterile, stainless steel examination table, and take another stab (quite literally) at figuring out exactly what happened to her. They’ve come up mostly empty-handed. At this point, no more information can come from Josie’s corpse, and if they do need it again, they can always exhume it. The Johnson family needs to lay her to rest. 

It’s an open-casket event; after all, Josie’s body was in nearly perfect condition when it was found, save for the gash that was hiding on the back of her head. Her body has been dressed, her most precious jewelry put on, and healthy smattering of the strongest makeup known to man has been applied with a delicate hand. When the mortician left her, she looked peaceful. Hands crossed, eyes closed firmly… as if she was just sleeping. And she is sleeping. Eternally. 

The casket is rolled carefully into the viewing room, and the flowers are arranged ahead of time. Josie’s body is left alone in the room for exactly forty-six minutes before the guests even begin to file in to say their final goodbyes to her. 

Naturally, Red, and his two daughters are the first to enter the viewing room. People have already begun showing up, gathering in the lobby of the funeral home, and preparing themselves for a whirlwind of emotion. 

No one expected this, though. 

Red, tears already pouring down his face (so much for a stiff upper lip), makes his way to the casket, truly prepared to see his wife for the last time. But when he reaches his final destination, all he sees is white silk. An empty casket. 

Shock sets in, and shock for Red Johnson means silence. He stumbles back slightly, towards his daughters, who are confused, immediately asking questions, almost afraid to go look for themselves. Red can only point to the casket, wondering if there’s been some type of mistake. They’re there at the right time, right? This is the right room, right? Where is she?

His eldest daughter musters up the courage to peek into the casket, and just as quickly as she's heading straight to find someone who can help them. Josie’s disappearing act part three. Jesus Christ. She pushes her way through the townspeople waiting in the lobby to get to the back office. Fred Kane, third generation funeral home director has seen some shit, but this? This is unbelievable. He’d been in that room exactly… fifty minutes ago now, and the body was just lying there just as it should have been. 

“Is this some kind of sick joke, Kane?” Red has moved past shock, and has gone straight into anger… as per usual. But wouldn’t you be angry, too? How could something like this happen? Was it negligence? A cruel prank? Something else?

There is no surveillance equipment in the funeral home. Can you imagine if there were? Cameras in every room watching people grieve? That’s a sick joke in itself. There’s no way to know exactly where Josie’s body has gone. Kane doesn’t have any answers. The mortician (only a woman of thirty years, or so) doesn’t have any answers. 

As per usual in Wade NO ONE has any answers. The waiting room just steps outside of the viewing room is slowly filling up with mourning Wadians, almost to the point where there’s no breathing room for anyone. Fred Kane has to come out of his office, and urge people to please wait outside on the lawn for the time being while last minute details are worked out. 

Everyone can sense there’s something strange going on, even for Wade. 

You, like everyone else, are now standing on the sprawling lawn of the Kane funeral home wondering what the hell is going on, and when you’re going to be able to go in, and say goodbye to Josie. 

After about twenty minutes of chatter, Fred Kane is standing in the doorway of the funeral home, practically just a shadow. He speaks from his perch, “Everyone should go home.”

Leave it to Josie to have a fucked up funeral. 

Event Prompts: 

WE WANT ANSWERS: Characters may consider trying to enter into the funeral home to figure out what’s going on (perhaps once it’s gotten dark). As stated previously, the Kane Funeral Home is a converted home; there are other entrances/windows towards the back of the house that may be accessed. There’s no guarantee any characters will discover anything but it’s the hunt that counts! Just try not to get caught by any workers, or members of the Kane family. 

The main blog may be able to interfere with threads of this nature. If you receive a message from the main blog regarding your thread, you will have to cease what you were doing, and abide by the main blog’s instructions. 

This could include: simply being kicked out by the Kane family, the Wade Police Department becoming involved, allowing your characters to uncover a clue, etc. 

Threads may continue after moderator intervention, but must keep in line with what the moderator has determined to happen. 

No real punishment/harm will come to your character without your consent. This is just a fun way to make the game a little more interactive. 

DRINKING OUR SORROWS AWAY: Some townspeople will choose wisely, and leave the Kane Funeral Home with their unanswered questions in tow. A good option for those still wearing black is to drown their sorrows at the Conifer Lounge. It’s Karaoke Saturday, and given the circumstances Fucking Hipster Bullshit has elected to begin the festivities early. Dollar drafts are also a thing. So go get drunk. Sing one for Josie. 

MEET ME AT THE PARK: Other Wadians may ban together, and move their conversation over to the Wade Recreation Center. Even though it’s likely raining again (not to mention that it’s probably getting dark), some suspicious individuals may elect to converse about all of the oddities that have been taking place in Wade as of late at the park. Rumors of the Mayor’s Letter may spread during conversations that take place here. Henry Gregory may also be brought up. Citizens are encouraged to start thinking deeper. Sure, there’s a dead old lady to worry about, but is there something deeper happening, too? 

Characters are not limited to these three prompts, and may do whatever they’d like in the advent of Josie’s funeral being cancelled (postponed?), these are simply suggestions to get the ball rolling. 

Have fun, attempt to interact with those you have not, and happy writing! Threads for this event may commence immediately, and should be wrapped up in about five days (04/30). 

Other threads should continue as normal, and all interactions do not need to revolve around the event at all!