#thanks for your patience and for the prompt!

[stygiansun-totaleclipse]

Hey Fen! I lnow this is a topic that will probably be covered later on in the game, but out of my own curiosity I really wanna ask - feel free to toss this into the proverbial trash can if I’m being irritating.

Can I ask what the RO’s reactions would be like to a depressed MC? If it isn’t too much to ask, maybe High and low functioning ones? As someone who’s been on both ends of the spectrum, it’s not a fun experience at ALLL, and the feeling of worthlessness at your inability to get up and do anything is SO miserable, as well as the feeling of numbly going through life without and real sense of purpose - just going through the motions.

Sorry this took so long to answer—this last week has been really busy with work/home stuff and also getting the demo update ready, but thanks for your patience! 🙏❤️

Kieran: Seeing mc go through this humanizes mc in a way that goes totally against all the bad rumors Kieran has heard, and while they aren’t the type to be swayed by mere gossip they will be wary of mc at first for reasons I’ll save for the demo. But this would prompt them to drop their guard a bit more around mc and open up to getting to know them better and they would be open to listening to mc—they’d be more of a quiet steady presence at this point in the relationship but when they do speak no words are wasted. They’d also probably try to subtly do things behind the scenes to help as time goes on without taking the credit.

Nihm: Is empathetic and patient and tries to be there to listen if mc needs it. They already will make an effort to be nice and include mc when they arrive in Celestyl but they’d make a bigger effort to include/invite mc out and try to show them things that might make them feel somewhat better like showing them snow/ice for the first time or taking them to other pretty views in Celestyl etc. Tries to also make mc smile with really awful puns. For a low functioning mc they’d probably want to turn to Sam or Aurynn for advice on how to help since they know mc better.

Lilith/Lucien: Cares a lot for their friends even if they don’t always show it, so at a friend stage in the relationship they’d want mc to be able to rely on and trust them and be able to talk to them about anything that was bothering them—they’ll do whatever would best help a low/high functioning mc and while it might not seem like it on the outside they tend to usually be able to intuit how best to help their friends depending on their personality etc. They’d spend a lot of time with mc to offer support and comfort and would bring them little gifts like a crow to brighten their day.

Samira: She worries after mc a lot and so tries to ease their burdens in smaller ways like helping with MCs work, making sure mc remembers to eat and sleep, and getting them out of their room and walking outside, etc. For a low-functioning mc, it’s pretty reminiscent of what her father went through after her Pa’s death so it’d be pretty painful to watch mc go through that but she’d be a lot more attentive and more stubborn about getting mc help even if they don’t seem to want it. Even if mc gives up on themself she’s not going to.

Aurynn: At least at this point in his character arc he’s uncomfortable talking in depth about serious/vulnerable stuff so for a high functioning mc he mostly compensates with humor and tries to make mc laugh but will also offer physical comfort as well if needed. For a low-functioning mc, he’s a lot more uncomfortable and feels kinda helpless and frustrated at his ineptitude here—less certain what to do and would probably enlist help from someone else like Sam.

Also as someone who has struggled with clinical depression for many many years, it’s taken a lot of time and effort in changing thought patterns etc and getting meds to get to a much better place than I was in before even tho I still struggle with aspects of depression—but I understand and I hope you can remember to be kind to and patient with yourself as you heal. You’ll never hate yourself into a better place. It can be hard but I’ll keep going with you :) ❤️

[bluecatwriter]

Oooo are you doing crossovers? Then how about Basil painting Dracula with a disconcerted face over how different it is turning out from his sitter

What an interesting prompt! (This is based on the idea that vampires can never accurately be painted.) 

[ID in Alt]

(I'm still taking art requests— feel free to drop an ask or comment with suggestions!)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Vibes based grading system.

(for @epistemologys, who wanted some post-canon, teacher WWX)

[celestialwrites]

saying ‘i love you’ without saying ‘i love you’ dialogue prompts

@celestialwrites for more!

♡ “to me, you are perfect.”

♡ "don't you realise? you are my world."

♡ "you brought me back to life."

♡ "the only way i know how to describe what i feel around you is home. i feel at home."

♡ "it's as if my entire life i have been sinking in a storm and you came and pulled me out."

♡ "you know i stayed for you, and frankly, i don't regret it one bit."

♡ "with the whole of my heart, i believe that together we are infinite."

♡ "i never intend on leaving you. you hear me? never."

♡ "thank you for being the shoulder i always needed, even when you hated me."

♡ "i can't live without you!"

♡ "never leave me, my heart couldn't bear it."

♡ "i've spent my whole life waiting for you."

♡ "consumed in darkness, you darling, were my light."

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS!!<3

[comfort-character-central]

Your f/o would never make you feel bad about your intelligence or the way your mind works. Even if you have a hard time understanding or processing, they'll never see you as dumb, stupid, or anything of that sort. They support you completely and the last thing they want is for you to feel insecure about it.

[frostbitebakery]

for @ferretrade

.Hashmarks

“I’ve seen a few troopers commemorating their kills with those,” Aayla comments, pointing her stylus at his collarbone where his shirt has slipped down.

It’s absolutely sweltering on this planet whose name Bly is saving in his long term memory just to avoid it in the future. Breathing feels like swallowing water, sitting still has him sweating more profusely than the 16-hour battle sims they endured during training. So of course his temp-regulating undersuit is shot to hell and their quartermaster is a mean bastard trying to teach him a lesson in taking better care of his stuff.

Bly had wanted to cry and beg for mercy.

Instead he had narrowed his eyes, nodded once in menacing silence, and turned back to his duties, hoping to instill at least some fear and regret in Q.

Aayla, his cruel savior, had crinkled her nose at him and offered a very large, very billowy shirt when he had sweat-squelched his way to their command tent. “It’s Quinlan’s, originally,” she had explained at his curious look. “He didn’t want it anymore.”

“Too many sleeves?” Bly had guessed hazardously.

So now he’s sitting in shorts and a billowy shirt at their shared desk, the collar constantly slipping off his shoulder because Vos is huge, and it’s an all-around aggravating situation. Except Aayla who’s lovely and can do no wrong, obviously. But who’s also taking an interest in his tattoos which Bly is not prepared for since his brain is actively melting.

“They’re for my batch mates,” he thus replies to her inquiry.

While the frown is settling into her features, her eyes flick down to count the marks.

Bly kind of wants to cringe. Oops.

“I thought batches were… decanted,” bless her for stumbling over that word, “in fives?”

He leans back, shrugs deliberately which has the added bonus of the shirt hiding the hashmarks again. “Now, yeah.”

“Cody, Wolffe, Fox,” she counts, her eyes boring into him. She’s like a massif with a bone, and there are moments Bly wants to be a chew toy. Sadly, this isn’t one of them. “I’m sorry about Ponds,” she says, means it with all her heart. “And you. I thought that was your batch?”

“Now. Yeah,” he repeats, half-smile lifting one side of his mouth. Does his best to not let the relief be palpable for her senses.

.Lightning

“Does it really have to mean anything when it looks this cool?” He almost cracks his neck trying to look at his back in the mirror. Lightning bolts strike out from his spine, wrapping around his upper arms like electric wings.

So cool.

“Your body, your choice,” Aayla says diplomatically.

Never mind the nay-sayers.

.Tic Tac Toe

“Ow,” Bly groans.

“Fucking tubie,” Squid hisses at him, bloody hands doing stuff way too fast for him to follow, “stop crying, it’s just a flesh wound.”

Holy hell, but the spots in front of his eyes do seem to grow larger. “You’re holding my innards,” he points out just as Squid throws away something bloody. “Don’t I still need that?”

“That was a wound pad, stupid.”

Wow, the black spots are in color now. “Mind the regs, soldier,” he slurs out.

Squid pulls a bandage - when did he do that? He’s incredible. He makes tattoos and medic stuff! - way too tight. “Commander Stupid,” he relents with another harsh pull. Bly pouts at him. “Congrats, you won the game.”

Bly weakly fist bumps the air. “Yay.”

.327

“Well,” he huffs out with a chuckle, leans back against the hull, “they’re my everything. Body, heart, soul. I’m ready to die for them.”

“They’re ready to die for you, too,” Aayla says quietly.

“Yeah.” He watches her roll the mug a trooper, long gone, made for her between her hands. “Wish they’d stop that.”

.Splinters

Squid wipes away the excess ink with ease and practice. “Well, it looks as stupid as you wanted it to. My work here is done.”

“Are you sure you can’t see the tattoo underneath?”

“Of course.” Squid pulls off the stained gloves, throwing him a judging side-eye. “No one will know what exactly you “hearted”, Commander.”

.Text

“Out of my way,” Aayla reads off his hand while he is unfairly under the influence of way too many drugs, “Rippin off my flesh, so you can’t recognize me, anymore.”

“I was an angsty youth,” he explains, maybe still sore about Wash forgetting the g in ripping.

She nods sagely. “That explains your taste in music.”

“I love polka.”

“No, the other one—“ She pats his hand which she’s still holding. His hand is so lucky. “Never mind. When you get out of here I’m introducing you to grunge and taking you flannel-shopping.”

His head is already nodding. His body is awesome at responding. “You’re like my sugar daddy,” he compliments her. Her and her twin. No, that can’t be right. He blinks and there’s only one Aayla again.

She snorts at him. “Showing you the holonet has been a mistake and keeps me up at night.”

.Flowers

“I wanna be a hi—,” Bly hiccups, fumbles with his drink before it goes all over Cody. “Hibi—“

“Hibiscus,” Fox suggests more drily than his drink.

“That one! I wanna be a hibiscus in my next life.” Just chilling in the sun all day, getting watered.

“I wanna be a spexcel sheet,” Cody says to the soaked through napkin which is stuck to his face but also to the table.

“We know,” the rest of them say in unison.

Man, being a hibiscus would be amazing. He will not remember this by morning.

Bly sits up in alarm at that revelation, spills his drink over Cody anyway. “I will not remember wanting to be a hibiscus,” he says, keeps his voice from wobbling by the skin of his teeth.

“You could write it on Cody the spexcel sheet to remember,” Wolffe suggests, pats Cody’s head when vague grunts of agreement sound from the napkin.

“Or,” Fox drawls out with a slow grin.

.

Bly very carefully tugs on the bandage with squinting eyes. The foil and adhesive separating from his skin is loud as fuck but needs must when it comes to facing the fallout of a drunken night. The bandage slowly reveals tender but well-healing skin, gold and a dark brown accentuating his skin.

He stares.

“This is not a hibiscus.”

[beefcakekinard]

43 + 45 for bucktommy 💕💕💕

43. falling asleep with their head in your lap +

45. running hands through hair

In the unflattering fluorescent hospital lighting, in a hard plastic visitor's chair, Evan looks wan. The light hits his face at odd angles, dragging down the deep bags under his eyes, draining his skin of its colour, its rosy vital glow.

Tommy has never seen anyone look so beautiful.

"Hey, baby," he rasps. He tries to clear his throat and ends up in a coughing fit that sets pain lancing through his body. Evan's eyes widen and in his rush to get a straw between Tommy's lips, he spills water on Tommy's chest.

"Hey, hey, it's good to see you awake," Evan says as Tommy sips his water. "How are you feeling?"

Tommy lets the straw go and tries to take stock. He looks down at himself - his left leg is in a cast from his hip down, as is his left arm. They both hurt in a dull, vague way, same as his ribs and his head. There's an IV line running through the back of his right hand. His stomach turns a little at the sight so he looks away. He's not great with needles.

"It hurts," he says, frowning. He looks back up at Evan, who plasters a fake smile on his face. "What happened?"

Evan takes his hand, carefully, cups Tommy's fingers between both of his hands without jostling the IV. "You don't remember?"

Tommy shakes his head and decides never to do that again when it makes the room spin.

"You were- there was an accident," Evan says, stroking his thumb down the back of Tommy's index finger. "You, uh, you got hit by- by a car."

"Oh." Tommy looks into Evan's eyes. They're so pretty. "Really?"

Evan smiles a little - this one is real, Tommy can tell. "Yeah. What's the last thing you remember?"

Tommy thinks, tries to grasp the memory of what he was doing before he woke up. It's hard to hold onto any one thought - it's like chasing bubbles. The second he gets his hands on one, it pops, gone. Evan likes to blow bubbles for Jee. She runs through them, twirling until each and every one is gone, and asks again, again! It's so cute it makes Tommy giggle.

"What's so funny, huh?" Evan asks. He's smiling still, kind of, but he looks confused.

"You're so cute," Tommy explains. He knows Evan will get what he means. Evan always gets what he means. Case in point: he laughs, which makes Tommy smile even more because he loves that sound.

"You enjoying that morphine, babe?"

Tommy almost shakes his head - but then he remembers he shouldn't. "I don't like morphine. It makes me nauseous." He pulls his hand out of Evan's hold and presses his thumb to Evan's birthmark. It fits his thumb so perfectly. Like Cinderella's shoe. "I like you, Cinderella."

Evan laughs for real, then, big and loud, and Tommy feels proud of himself. It's his job to make Evan happy. His hand is dislodged, but he raises it again, landing it in Evan's hair. It doesn't feel like gel, like he's used to, all he feels are Evan's soft curls, and he could get addicted to how they glide under his fingers. He pulls Evan closer, then down, so he's resting his head on Tommy's hip, and Tommy doesn't have to lift his hand so high to touch his hair. Evan's still smiling up at him.

"You look tired," Tommy says. Evan proves his point by yawning.

"I'm fine. You're the one who needs his rest." Evan lays a hand on Tommy's knee. He likes it, he always likes when Evan touches him.

"You can sleep," Tommy says. He traces his thumb across Evan's dark under-eye, making his eyelashes flutter, and on his way back to burying his fingers in Evan's hair he presses his thumb into Evan's birthmark again. "I want you to."

"Will you sleep if I do?"

"Yeah," Tommy lies. He thinks Evan sees through him, because Evan knows him so well, but he still closes his eyes and nuzzles against Tommy's hip.

Tommy focuses on brushing his fingers through Evan's hair, letting his curls bounce back into shape before he reaches them again, following the soothing rhythm of Evan's breathing. He loses track of time; it drips, slow like the motion of his fingers, slow like his thoughts that remain out of reach, and before he has a chance to notice it, his own eyes have grown heavy.

He falls back asleep in pain, still - but with Evan's head a welcome weight on his hip, Evan's hand on his knee, his fingers tangled up in Evan's hair, it's easy to ignore.

[mcflymemes]

RANDOM LINES OF DIALOGUE PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

oh, great. more of your very eloquent bullshit.

i don't fear death. in fact, i yearn for it.

if it holds wine, it's a wine glass.

so... no guns. do you have an axe?

i'm not usually this direct, but... what is wrong with you?

this would have been much better with a gun.

i might be a bit too ambitious.

i think you'll see that the time was not wasted.

i can do it as well. i can do it for ages.

it doesn't hurt... well. it hurts a little bit now.

i'm fascinated by what happened in your fourteen minutes of absence.

no hard feelings. please look after yourself.

i am fundamentally incapable of showing off.

i'm just having a bit of a laugh with everyone.

that was so cringey and so uncomfortable.

i have no stitches. none!

momma didn't raise no fool.

i can borrow a dog whenever i want.

honestly? i don't know where to start.

i gave you culture... literature... water.

sometimes absence is more powerful than presence.

by the end of it, we were singing swedish drinking songs.

i think you were really reluctant to take accountability for that.

i just think you formed a bad relationship.

do you think it's fair?

what do you have for me now?

yours is... impressive.

we're all different.

don't you dare look away.

i didn't mind it, actually.

i'm just proud of myself.

i think it went in. it did go in.

i feel ashamed, mainly.

that's what i was going for.

i just want to acknowledge your technique.

it did escalate severely after five minutes.

none of us ever want to see this again.

we've reached the ten minute mark.

i don't think i know who i am.

there's a degree of style in the cowboy hat.

there are no fucking shoes!

you look like you've been kicked through a charity shop.

your phone's ringing.

haven't you ever seen one of those before?

they were sick and dangerous.

what does that say about whoever killed them?

this isn't half bad for college kids.

what the hell is this?

you might want to wear these.

have a safe night.

would you believe i'm single?

why do you always trail off like that?

[battenthecrosshatches]

The 100 dialogue prompts are so good!

85. "I know what I saw" with supercorp, please, and thank you, darling;)

I hope you have a fantastic day!

Think of this as like, post coffee poison scene where Kara flies Lena to get treatment in her civilian attire. Lena sees Kara flying her to safety and confronts her about it.

I figure Lena is heading towards her own spiral towards spite revenge and the only thing that knocks that off its orbit is Kara spiraling right in front of her. She's panicking about this being the way Lena finds out because she's been trying to tell her. Then they have a heart to heart collapsed on the couch and try to figure out how to pick up all the eggshells and the bomb debris around them.

[snkyou]

Drabble Prompt: Post-canon Levi, struggling with chronic pain and mourning his dead loved ones, being visited by his still alive loved ones

Anon, you knew how to talk pretty to me <3

hihi requests are still open btw

I feel like I gotta put a disclaimer or something lmao. So, the length of my drabble requests is usually something between 100-400 words. This request is just an incredibly unexpected exception. it just happened to fit into this idea I already had been thinking of, which was how the remaining 104th would ask Levi to be part of important events in their lives because well, they like the dude lmao, so expect that sort of one-shot soon. Additionally, since I kept reminding myself that this was supposed to be a drabble, I might have glossed over the chronic pain and mourning bits so I'm sorry about that ;;

that being said, 2.4k words of Levi and Gabi be upon ye <3

Now on Ao3!

The angry hissing of the kettle makes him flinch. It brings a loud ringing to his right ear. Instinctively, he places his right hand over it, and gives his ear a couple of gentle taps; it's more of a grounding gesture, a distraction from the buzzing. He usually keeps watch over the kettle, so that he can lower the heat just right before it gets a chance to scream at him. 

He realises then that he must have spaced out while waiting. It’s alright, he thinks. It’s been like that a lot, recently. He’s been like that. Lost in thought-- lost in time, if he allowed himself to be precise. The last days, weeks even, as the temperatures started to drop, blended into each other. There’s a little calendar on his bedside table, it had been a birthday gift from Armin – or had that been Mikasa’s? He isn’t sure, he had received an absurd number of presents from the kids last year, it had been hard to keep track of who gave him what and now the fact escaped him. Turning the pages of the little calendar, with its delicate botanical illustrations on each day, quickly became part of his morning routine, and so he was sure that time was passing at all. The stillness of the routine, he guesses, made him like this.

His vision blurs momentarily while he scoops the tea leaves into the teapot. He squints, trying to will his good eye to focus, but all he gets in return is a throb in his right eye. After putting the tea canister away, he presses the inner sides of his wrists to both eyes, placing just enough pressure to relieve the discomfort. When he opens his eyes again, he is pleased to find he can read the small print on the canister an arm’s length away. 

There’s a loud slam coming from the front of the house, followed by footsteps coming further into the house.

He quickly recognizes the heavy stomping as Gabi’s gait. She’s always been so loud.

Gabi crosses the arch into the small kitchen and dining area. 

“Don’t slam my doors,” he says as a greeting, slowly turning his head to his left side, trying to catch a glimpse of her in his periphery.

“Aye, aye,” the kid waves her hand, shoots him a teasing grin, “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Levi hums in response but doesn’t say anything else. He busies himself with placing everything they need for their morning tea and coffee on a metal tray on the counter, which Gabi takes from him as soon as it’s ready and sets it on the table.

He grabs his cane from where he had hooked it on one of the kitchen drawers. He has been leaning against the counter, his right leg supporting most of his weight all this time. He braces himself for the sharp pain that will surely surge from his bad knee, through his left hip and up his spine. Cold mornings like this one and being still in one place for long will do that to him. It’s not so bad. It could be worse.

It takes 4 steps to get from the stove to his chair, which Gabi has already pulled out for him. It sits at an angle that allows him to easily slide down on it and rest his right elbow on top of the table, leaning back and against his good side.

“I have something that will cheer you up,” she holds a couple of envelopes in her hand and waves them at him, “You’ve got mail!”

He nods at her in acknowledgement but does not take his attention away from preparing his first batch of tea of the day. There’s a ritual to it, it almost feels like, and he doesn’t want to mess it up. Not when the ringing in his ear is still there, the building pressure in the upper back part of his eyeballs, and the cold air seeping into his bones through his thick jumper. Oh, how he needs a good cup of tea right now.

While Levi waits for it to steep, he grabs the papers that she had shoved in his face, squints his eyes at the first envelope and finds that he is unable to make out much of the handwriting. He brings it closer to his face, squints harder, steals a quick glance across the table and hopes Gabi isn’t paying him any mind, too preoccupied with choosing from the bag of pastries she brought with her. It is with an impassive expression that he hands the stack of envelopes back. 

“Read it for me.” A beat and then he adds, a little reluctant: “Please.”

He knows Gabi prefers coffee in the mornings, and black tea in the evenings, so he makes sure to have a fresh brew of the former whenever he knows she’s coming over; so, with shaky hands, Levi gets to prepare her cup of coffee. While he enjoys the aroma of it, he remains faithful to tea; at first, he thought he didn’t like it because he had butchered his first attempts at brewing it. But even after Onyankopon had taught him how to do it properly and he had enjoyed his cup, it didn’t bring the same comfort as tea. It just never hit the spot.

She shoots him a mischievous grin, “Oh, you sure? What if I read something personal, hm?” 

Levi just shakes his head, scoffing at the idea of Gabi finding his junk mail fascinating.

“Is this how I find out you have a secret lover you’re exchanging raunchy love letters with?” Gabi teases, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He lets out a tired sigh and rolls his eyes, “just wanna be done with it, ” he stirs the milk into Gabi’s coffee, which now has turned into a cup of milk with coffee. “We have a lot to prepare for tonight.”

She clicks her tongue at him, but still rips the first envelope open, “Mr. Levi, your reading won’t improve if you keep doing that,” she jokingly scolds him.

Although Levi mentally recognises handing her and Falco stuff he couldn’t be bothered reading before, that’s not the case this time. He’ll let her think that for now, though, because he doesn’t want to mention the pressure building in the back of his bad eye, it’s not important and she, a kid, doesn’t need to know his newly found ailment of the week. He can see just fine around him right now. He can see Gabi’s big eyes and playful smile at the other side of the table, and that’s good enough; smaller details, he doesn’t feel he can do them, not without making himself go dizzy with a migraine.

Levi slides the cup of coffee to her and is pleased with himself when she approves of the colour of her drink.

“It’s from Armin,” she announces as she scans the letter. 

From this angle, the soft morning light illuminating her face and thanks to his faulty vision, Gabi’s image stirs his memory. His heart faintly constricts as he is reminded of the many times Hange read their research reports to him during breakfast in the mess hall before presenting them to Erwin. Levi always wondered how they could read so fast, sometimes he even doubted they were actually reading at all, their words barely being able to catch up with her eyes; he never asked about it, maybe reading came easy to them as numbers did to him.

A high-pitched squeal from Gabi startles him, bringing him back to the here and now.

“Oh… ohh, Mr. Levi,” she starts, her smile widening by the second “This is good news!”

Gabi makes a show of clearing her throat and then starts reading “Dear Captain, I hope this letter finds you well and in good health.” 

Levi can’t help but let a sardonic huff at the irony of the greetings but doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. He has written only a handful of personal letters throughout his life, and by now he knows it’s just something you’re supposed to say because jumping straight to the point isn’t acceptable, or so that’s what he had been told. 

Gabi continues reading Armin’s words to him. For the most part, it’s a standard letter coming from him: he asks Levi how he’s dealing with the changing of the seasons, how Gabi and Falco are faring, if business at the tea shop has been good, if there’s anything Levi needs that he can’t get in town so that Armin or the others can get it for him. He tells him a little about the country he’s writing from, he even includes a photograph. Then, after the expected pleasantries, Gabi can barely hold her excitement and starts reading faster, trying so hard not to trip over her words.

“If I’m being sincere, we would prefer to ask you in person,” Gabi stops for a second to look up at him from the paper, gauging for a reaction and finding nothing, she continues. 

Armin apologises for not being able to visit him before the holidays, Annie included, and so it is implied that he won’t be attending tonight’s reunion. 

Sometime during the last five years, the Alliance brats had decided to make showing up at Levi’s doorstep together once a year a sort of custom; the first time it happened was during an early winter, a blizzard had stopped them from leaving Levi’s until the next morning. It had been a really nice evening despite the awful weather, Levi remembers, after everyone pitched in one way or another, they all shared a simple but hearty meal together. It was Connie who jokingly said they should do it every year. The following year, Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco joined them. 

This year would be their fourth, and the first someone wouldn’t make it. That fact sits heavily in Levi’s chest, stealing the spotlight from his throbbing eye.

“...Annie and I have decided to get married. The both of us would like you to officiate our ceremony!” unable to contain her excitement, she tears her eyes away from the paper and looks at Levi. “Huh?! This is good news! What’s with the constipated face?!”

That doesn’t sound right. It figures that Annie and Armin would be the first to marry; in a way, he is happy for them, they clearly care for each other. No, that part is easy to understand. Their union is logical to anyone who knows the couple. What Levi can’t figure out is why they are asking him such a thing.

He clears his throat, assumes it’s been 3 minutes and his tea is ready to be poured and so he distracts himself with that.

When he doesn’t answer Gabi, she picks up where she left off. 

He isn’t… well, he isn’t that close to either of them. He’s sure Annie must have other relatives that could step in his stead. Maybe a brother, a cousin. Even Jean or Reiner would be better options than Levi. He isn’t good with words or people like they are, he couldn’t possibly give them a speech about something foreign to him as it is that kind of love, that’s what people expect, right? His title of Captain is obsolete in this new world, so it can’t be that either. Hell, he has never been to a fucking wedding. 

Just… why him?

As expected, Armin doesn’t really go into the details of their choice but does let Levi know they do not expect a fast answer and that they do not want him to feel pressured to accept it, despite how much it would mean to them if he did. Armin asks if there’s anything in particular that he would like for his birthday, as it is a month away, and closes the letter by saying he looks forward to seeing him and everyone then.

When the letter is closed and put back into its envelope, silence falls around them. For a moment the only sound that can be heard is the clinking of tableware as Levi places the teacup back on its saucer.

It bothers him, that he knows he will be letting Armin down by refusing something that any other well-adapted person would consider an honour. But the thought of embarrassing him and himself, because he gave an awkward, most likely insensitive, speech, mortifies him. No, he can’t put them and their guests through that. He will find a way to make it up to the couple, maybe he can… he doesn’t know yet, but he will come up with something.

As he finishes his first cup, Levi realises that at some point while he was lost in thought, the ringing in his ear has subsided and now it’s back to that muffled, cotton-in-ear sensation he’s used to and he doesn’t feel his eyeball pulsating anymore. Glancing at Gabi, he notices she is trying really hard not to say something, her brow furrowed as she takes a sip of her own drink, followed by a big bite of her pastry. Flakes stick to the corner of her mouth and for once it doesn’t disgust him. Instead, it makes his lips twitch as if going into a smile.

“I can help you... if you want,” she says eventually, sounding uncharacteristically careful and small of her.

Levi quirks an eyebrow “Help? with what?” 

She shrugs, “How to… tell them you don’t want to,” she avoids looking at him for the first time, finding the flakes on her plate more interesting. She shrugs again and tilts her head to the side, a thin line of a smile appearing on her face. “...or prepare for the ceremony.”

Not unlike many times before, Gabi’s words render him speechless, if only for a moment. He spares his tea a glance and he thinks: it’s bold of her to be so upfront about offering her help to him, and had it been any other morning, one where he couldn’t think past the constant ache in his body, he would’ve chewed her head off for simply trying to help him because he himself doesn’t know how to accept that kindness.

This kid is trying her best and he can’t help but feel somewhat proud of that.

“You have shit on your face. Here,” he points to where the flakes would sit on his own face and picks his refilled teacup back up.

Gabi quickly wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, getting most of the flakes off. Levi gives her a thumbs-up with his free hand.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally concedes and tries to ignore the little happy dance she does in her seat.

This time, when the amber liquid touches his lips, it’s remarkably sweeter than before.

[hero-of-the-wolf]

For the Opossum Hyrule one word prompt (if you're still doing it): snuggle

Legend laid down next to the sleeping opossum, watching his little chest rise and fall in a slow, comforting rhythm. They still weren’t really talking, but… he couldn’t help feeling drawn to his side, anyways.

It was hard, knowing that there was nothing he could really do to help his successor. He was the veteran for crying out loud, yet all of his items and all of his experience were— they were all useless in this situation; and that helplessness….

It was hard to grapple with.

Hyrule suddenly stirred in his sleep, shifting closer until he was snuggled into the veteran’s side. Legend didn’t dare move. He couldn’t even breathe as he watched the little opossum settle in against him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he wanted to say. ‘I hate it when we fight. It’s just so hard not to worry. I know my failure has put so much on your shoulders, and you never deserved that. I’m so sorry.’

But the words wouldn’t come out through the sudden lump in his throat, and the traveler couldn’t hear him anyways. So he closed his eyes instead and, one breath at a time, forced his body to slowly relax.

“Rest well,” he finally managed to whisper.

[silverskye13]

small, zero pressure nudge (feel free to ignore/delete), are you still working on the 'guish and helsknight fake dating ficlet?

Deepest apologies dear heart I'm not working on anything right now. But you can have a snippet of what I got done previously if you like:

"You want to order me an outfit?" Tanguish asked, bemused. "Are you... Sure?"

"Were you planning on pulling a new dress suit out of nowhere?" Helsknight asked matter-of-factly, ushering in a rather stuffy looking tailor. They immediately opened a bag they'd been carrying and started pulling out supplies: measuring tape, types of fabric and color swatches.

"Well... No."

"Then we'll get one made." Helsknight shrugged. "I have to get one done anyway. Might as well take your measurements at the same time."

Tanguish squinted at the knight suspiciously. Helsknight hadn't said anything about getting himself an outfit made, and he knew the knight's utilitarian nature. If he could get away with wearing one he already owned, he would have.

"You scared I'll embarrass you by picking out something you don't like?" Tanguish asked, trying not to sound betrayed. "Ruin your networking."

Helsknight surprised him by laughing. "I'm the Champion, Tanguish. I'm not networking with anyone. They're networking with me. But, no, I don't think you would pick out something embarrassing."

Tanguish glanced at the tailor, who he thought was doing a great job at pretending to still be busy. "Uhm... Why all this then?"

"You wanted the once-in-a-lifetime gala experience, didn't you?"

"I wanted to see the fancy party and eat the fancy food."

The tailor hid an amused snort, and dug for more fabric that probably didn't exist in their bag.

"This is part of the fancy party experience," Helsknight smirked.

"But... I can't pay you back for this," Tanguish said, dropping his voice a little lower in embarrassment. "I mean -- this is a lot. This is going to be a lot."

Helsknight waved a dismissive hand, "It's all on the Colosseum's diamonds. Don't worry about it. And like I said, I would need a new outfit made anyway. So." Helsknight shooed Tanguish over to the tailor. "Get measured."

Tanguish managed one last chagrined look at Helsknight before the tailor sprung into action, taking Tanguish's measurements in a flurry of profession movements. Everything from his height, to the length of his legs and tail, to the spaces between the spines on his back were committed to numbers, all while the tailor made little grumbling noises that Tanguish didn't quite think were judgemental, but certainly sounded like they were. Then Tanguish was shooed to the swatches of colors and sample fabrics, and the tailor did more mutterings. Tanguish only caught the bits and pieces.

"Dark complexion..." "Should really emphasize the skulk lights..." "Maybe a fabric with some shimmer..." "Add a little contrast..."

It took the tailor asked him twice if he was allergic to any metals (Tanguish honestly had no idea) and tutted disapprovingly when an inspection revealed Tanguish didn't have any piercings to speak of.

"You will be hard to accessorize," they sniffed, giving Tanguish a critical look over. "Your skin is already very busy."

"Uhm... busy...?"

"The dots, the little lights. It's like trying to accessorize freckles."

"Ah," Tanguish felt his stomach twist. "I'm sorry."

The tailor frowned up at Helsknight, "Why is he apologizing to me? Can he wash them off?"

"No."

"Then why with the apologizing?" the tailor sniffed haughtily. "You are giving me a good challenge and I will rise to the occasion. Hold the satin up to you I want to see if it will catch the light."

Tanguish did as he was told, holding different colors and cloth against his skin. The tailor chattered as they worked, and sometimes made notes in a little book they carried. Tanguish was relieved when, after about an hour, they moved on to Helsknight. They took his measurements down ("Always you are growing, knight. And these scars on your knuckles -- how am I supposed to dress them up? I should give you a wolf skin and make you look like the barbarian you are. I will speak with someone about concealer for you do not let it rub off on my clothes.")

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Me too, Quinny. Me too.

[queenofbaws]

hey queenie, any chance i could request climbing chrash with drunken confessions prompt 16 ("This is not a dream, I think. In my dreams we're usually kissing.") i love the way you write them, they’re my dearest favorites !

This...was not how he'd expected the night to go. Not that he was complaining, of course - heaven-fucking-forbid - but still there was a part of him, light-headed and introspective the way only the finest bottom-shelf whiskey could make a man, that had to wonder if he was making it all up. If maybe this was one of those times where his admittedly slightly overactive imagination had jumped the shark, stuck the landing, and took off running.

The fact that was the caliber of mental image he was currently working with sort of, uh...well, it didn't help things.

"Oh God," Ashley said beside him, her melodramatic groan made all the less believable by the way she kept bursting into giggles. "We lost him."

"He has stopped talking, and I think we all know what happens when he stops talking," Chris agreed, and while his nervous laughter wasn't quite as high or trilling as Ashley's, boy oh boy was it there, taking the wind out of whatever joke he was no-doubt winding up towards.

"When he stops talking, it means he's thinking," Josh interrupted them, ignoring the way Ashley wrinkled her nose at his use of third person - a hangable offense in her book even when she wasn't full to bursting with homemade s'mores and his dad's cheap booze. "You two should give it a shot, sometime."

"What, not talking?"

"Thinking, Cochise, thinking."

"And ruin my porcelain complexion with frown lines? Yeah, no thanks."

There was another round of laughter at that, fraught but not unpleasant, and maybe it was the heat of the bonfire finally reaching him through the chill, maybe it was a momentary breeze snapping him out of his stupor - hell, maybe he was just starting to sober up - but that was when he realized it was real. That the conversation had actually happened, and, thanks to good ol' fashioned liquid courage, this was happening too. They were happening.

What the fuck.

Finally, he let his own laugh out (not that he'd been holding onto it or anything), tipping his head upwards towards the starry sky before bringing his shoulders up in a why-not shrug. "I mean, if you want me to talk, I'll talk."

"That is so not what either of us said."

"Nah, talking it is," he nodded, then, before he could think himself out of it, stretched his arms out in a subtle move made not-so-subtle by there being two of them. For a beat, he let it rest there, his mind still grappling with more thoughts than he could hold, his focus torn a million different ways between the stars, the moon, the fire, the breeze, the familiar slope of Chris's shoulders under his arm, the poomf of Ashley's puffer jacket as she let herself be pulled against his side, and his heart of course - his heart, his heart, his stupid fucking heart, doing its very best to flip somersaults in the cramped cage of his ribs. But, because he was who he was, the beat passed: "So. Level with me here. Big heart-to-heart that just happened. Big feelings that just, uh, got felt. That was real-life, right? Like I'm not about to sit up in bed and throw my alarm clock across the room, am I? If this is a dream, you're legally obligated to spill that shit, or else it's entrapment."

Beside him, Ashley snorted. "Not a dream," she teased. "Believe me, if it was a dream, I'd know."

"Oh?"

"Mhm. In my dreams, we're uuusually kissing by this point. So."

"Yeah, well, in my dreams, we're usually playing Magic: The Gathering, so I don't know if that's really the yardstick you want to be using for that line of logic, Ash."

And that about summed it up, didn't it? What Josh had meant to be a smirk quickly became a grin. "If we're comparing notes, I guess I need to let you guys know...in my dreams, we're usually doing something a little more - "

"Nightmare - NIGHTMARE!" came a voice from across the fire, and without warning, a jumbo marshmallow smacked him dead-center in the forehead. "Fuck off with your dream crap, you weirdos - listening to you three get all sappy and shit is literally everyone else's worst nightmare!"

Suddenly remembering they were not, in fact, the only ones at the bonfire, Josh belatedly raised his hands, trying to protect himself from his sisters' marshmallow attack. Dating or not, Chris and Ashley were on their own.

[alectoperdita]

Heeyyy there, can you do 36, 30 or 7 from the ask game???? Joukai of course. Thank uouuuuu!!!

From Put That Guy in a Situation(TM) Ask Game

36. Avalanche/huddle for warmth & 30. Only one bed

Ahhhhhh! Sorry this one took so long. It's longer than usual, though, so I hope that makes up for the wait. Thanks for your patience. ;;;_;;;

Read on AO3

tags: hurt/comfort, minor injury word count: 3,265 words

---

Skiing was stupid. People who skied were even dumber.

Rich, arrogant, good-for-nothing assholes skied.

Case in point, Kaiba skied.

See? Jounouchi's argument was ironclad. Unassailable even.

"Watch it, you oaf," a voice colder than the biting wind howling around them snapped in his numb ear.

"I should've left you to become a popsicle," he grumbled, squaring his stance in the soft, powdery snow and readjusting his grip on Kaiba, careful not to jostle him and set off another tirade of complaints.

"I could say the same for you."

The fingers burrowed under the fold of Jounouchi's scarf bit into the nape of his neck. Hard to tell if it was because of an involuntary reaction to pain or a deliberate warning. Either way, it and Kaiba's words took the wind right out of Jounouchi's sails.

Yeah, so skiing might be stupid, but it was even dumber to attempt a slope beyond his novice ability only to get lost off the trail. Especially as a winter storm brewed. But he couldn't stand how effortlessly Kaiba made everything appear, so suave and eye-catching in his ski gear. Or how he turned his nose up at Jounouchi.

It inspired a familiar feeling, one that drove him to act recklessly.

So it was Jounouchi's rotten luck that Kaiba, as the group's most experienced skier, ultimately tracked him down. Kaiba predictably berated him for his idiocy, Jounouchi snapped back, and they fought. And then, in a begrudging attempt to extract Jounouchi from a ditch, the man fell and busted his leg instead.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he studied Kaiba's beet-red face. Kaiba wore his ski goggles atop his head like a hairband, pushing back his bangs and exposing his forehead. So it wasn't hard to spot the pained grimace wrinkling his brow. Flurries clung to his long lashes, no matter how often he tried to blink them away. He was sweating buckets despite the frigid temperature.

Jounouchi sympathized with that. Underneath his thick winter coat, his own clothing stuck uncomfortably to his skin. He'd kill to be back at the lodge and enjoying a hot shower.

"We need to get out of the open," Kaiba declared.

Jounouchi swept a critical eye across the windswept landscape. Nothing but trees and snow as far as he could see, but his vision's range was limited. Visibility plummeted as the storm intensified.

"Can't you, like, call for help? Doncha have a satellite uplink on you all the damn time?" asked Jounouchi.

"You don't think I tried? Atmospheric conditions affect satellite communication," Kaiba sneered, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

It probably was to a guy like him. Jounouchi merely rolled his eyes and focused on their terrestrial concern, repeatedly putting one foot in front of the other to make the most painstaking progress forward. It was the only way they'd get out of this if they couldn't count on rescue incoming.

"Who would've guessed you had such dainty ankles?" He winced when it sounded like a shout as the howling wind died down at that precise moment.

"Excuse me," hissed Kaiba, tightening his grip. Ouch. Ouch! Bastard was definitely squeezing his neck on purpose.

Jounouchi had already dug his hole, so whatever. "I think you need more calcium in your diet, dude. Ya twisted that ankle like nothing. If you're not careful, you're gonna start breaking your hip like 'em little old grannies."

"First of all, it's not a fractured ankle, it's a fractured tibia. Second, my calcium intake is fine. Better than yours, given the trash I've seen you shovel into your mouth. And third, I'm taller, which means I have a higher center of gravity, which affects..."

Jounouchi tuned out the rest of the rant. He could feel the nervous energy bleeding from Kaiba into him. As long as Kaiba kept running his mouth, he stayed awake and alert. It meant he kept working with Jounouchi to cross the increasingly treacherous and snow-blind slope.

A stark shiver wracked their bodies. Jounouchi paused to assess his companion's condition again.

Kaiba's teeth chattered. Sweat blanketed his forehead. Neither were good signs.

"You okay? Cold? In pain?" he asked softly.

"Yes," was Kaiba's reply. Which was as clear and helpful as mud.

Jounouchi sighed and urged them onward. He could only guide them toward what he hoped was the downward direction and pray that they stumbled back onto the trail.

After limping for what felt like hours, their footsteps dragged heavier and heavier behind them as snowfall and fatigue weighed them down in equal parts. That was when Jounouchi spotted what he prayed wasn't a mirage beyond a thicket of trees.

Slanted rooftop, horizontal wooden slats, the glint of glass windows—a cabin!

Giddy from the sudden shot of adrenaline, he nudged Kaiba. "Hey, hey. There's a cabin up ahead!"

Kaiba blinked blearily. He'd grown strangely quiet during the recent stretch. Now, he squinted, scrutinizing the building in the distance, perhaps wondering like Jounouchi if it was real.

The decision made itself.

"Let's go. You know what? I'm gonna carry you on my back. It'll be faster." Jounouchi was already carefully lowering Kaiba onto the snow-blanketed ground while keeping the weight off his injured ankle.

"No," Kaiba snapped. He clung to Jounouchi's biceps.

"It'll be fine, ya stubborn bastard. I swear I'll never tell another living soul so your damn pride can stay intact. I dunno about you, but I wanna get out of the cold ASAP."

"And if you drop me? Or what if you break your ankles next? What then?" challenged Kaiba. There was an increasingly frantic light shining in his eyes.

"Trust me. I don't wanna die out here any more than you do!"

For several terrifying beats, Kaiba stared at him. His claws were locked in rictus, threatening to rip into Jounouchi's padded jacket.

"C'mon, we're both freezing our butts off."

Jounouchi didn't know what convinced Kaiba in the end. Maybe the poor bastard was too wrung out to pick a fight.

"You drop me and it'll be the last thing you ever do." The threat lacked teeth, though.

Kaiba's hands trembled as they released Jounouchi's sleeve. They shook when they planted themselves on Jounouchi's shoulders. Kaiba was heavier than anticipated. Turns out there was meat on those bones after all. But it was a weight Jounouchi could shoulder.

The strangest sensation by far was the hot and heavy feeling of Kaiba breathing down his neck. Yet it was a soothing reminder that Kaiba was alive. Jounouchi huffed and puffed the final stretch to the tiny cabin, but he never dropped Kaiba.

Once they climbed onto the raised porch, Jounouchi deposited him against the railing and shook the accumulated snow from his gear. Eyes drilled into his back as he removed his beanie and brushed his hair clean.

The dog comparison he was certain was incoming never materialized, though. Kaiba must really be tired.

Hobbling on his feet, Kaiba's gaze stayed fixed on the door. "How do you propose we get inside?"

"Uh... Key under the mat?"

Kaiba leveled a disgusted look at him.

He banged twice on the door with his fist. "Hello? Can anyone hear me?"

Right. Also wouldn't hurt to check if there were already people inside. Preferably someone who could help them and wasn't going to hunt them across the mountainside for sport. He blamed Bakura for that last thought.

Leaning close, Jounouchi peered into the window, straining to see through the gap between the curtains. It was dark inside. There was no movement. No one was home. That made sense. The ski racks out front stood barren.

They'd long abandoned their gear, too. No point in dragging extra weight along when Kaiba was already injured.

"Stay here. I'll check around back," ordered Jounouchi before hopping off the porch.

He circled the perimeter at a jog. It hardly took any time. To call it a cabin was probably generous to someone like Kaiba. But it looked sturdy, and it offered shelter from the storm. As he passed one window, he noticed a small sign in it that read "Ski Patrol."

He raced back to Kaiba. "Cabin belongs to ski patrol. There might be a phone inside!"

Kaiba turned and greeted him with a key ring dangling from his index finger.

"Where'd you find those?"

"Hideaway inside a fake rock." Kaiba gestured to a pile sitting in the porch's corner.

Jounouchi laughed. "So I was right. That's basically under the mat. God, I hope they're the spares to this place."

Hopefully, they wouldn't have to go with his backup plan of busting through a window.

Braced against the doorframe, Kaiba went through two keys on the ring before he unlocked the door. Jounouchi whooped in celebration. Then, he moved forward to shoulder Kaiba's weight and usher them inside.

To Jounouchi's relief, the cabin came equipped with indoor plumbing and even a gas stove in the open kitchen out in the main room. There was a small round table and several chairs, but nowhere to lie down.

But in another interior room, he found a bed.

One cramped twin-sized bed squeezed between the wall and a narrow nightstand. There wasn't room for much else.

He went back to the main room to report his findings. Kaiba sat at the dining table where Jounouchi left him, but he had his injured leg propped up on a second chair, ski boot and all.

"Phone's down," Kaiba grunted. "There's electricity, but there's no telling how long the generator will hold up. It's best if we don't use it until we must."

Jounouchi groaned. Guess it was too much to hope for. "Cool, well, there's only one bed."

Kaiba stared at him, unblinking for long lengths. Yeesh, did the bastard really think he was going to fight an injured person for the sole bed?

He approached the table. "You should take it. You're the one with the busted ankle. Want me to carry ya, princess?"

Laughing, he barely dodged the ski goggles Kaiba flung at his head. Somehow, that restored the equilibrium between them.

"Make yourself useful and find a first aid kit," barked Kaiba.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Inside a kitchenette cabinet, he located a red bag with a white cross.

"Found it!"

A soft swear answered him from behind. He glanced over his shoulder and watched as Kaiba hunched over his elevated foot, struggling with his bootstraps. Jounouchi heaved a sigh, and on his way back to the table, he grabbed an afghan blanket folded on a shelf. He deposited the first aid kit on the tabletop and the blanket onto Kaiba's head, where his hair turned damp from the melting snow.

Kaiba cursed, louder this time, his arms flailing under the blanket. Jounouchi kneeled down next to him, shed his gloves, and started working the snaps open. Above him came a snarl. He peered up just in time to see the outrage on Kaiba's face melt into shock after he ripped the wool away. Fighting a sudden wave of self-consciousness, Jounouchi lowered his gaze and kept going. His fingers, slowly warming, fumbled briefly on the next clasp.

He waited for Kaiba to say something. Anything. Bark an order. Throw an insult. But Kaiba had gone deadly quiet, howling in his silence. The behavior was so strange Jounouchi wondered if Kaiba also hit his head when he fell.

Either way, Jounouchi felt the other man's stare drill through the top of his head.

Next came the hard part: getting the boot off without further agitating Kaiba's injury.

Again, his eyes flicked up to Kaiba's face, where he noted the almost contemplative expression that now dominated its planes. "Ya ready for this?"

Kaiba squared his shoulders, then nodded.

Jounouchi removed the boot as carefully as he could manage. Yet afterward, the man's forehead was drenched with sweat, his face stripped of all color. Jounouchi went straight to the first aid kit and fished out the painkillers. With trembling hands, Kaiba snapped up the packet, tore it open, and swallowed two pills before Jounouchi could ask if he wanted water.

Figures Kaiba was the kind of freak who swallowed pills dry.

As Kaiba slumped forward and placed his head down atop the table, Jounouchi helped him out of the remaining boot as well. He set the footwear, both emblazoned with fancy KC logos, aside.

"Thank you."

The words stunned Jounouchi. His head whipped up, and he gawked at Kaiba. He couldn't see Kaiba's face, but the tips of his ears blazed bright red.

After several seconds of awkward silence, Jounouchi replied, "That should be my line. You're the one that found me after I got my dumbass self lost. So thanks for coming to get me."

To his surprise, Kaiba didn't lift his head. His bangs smeared across the tabletop as he nodded, though.

"And sorry you got hurt because of that," Jounouchi added quietly. His eyes darted back to Kaiba's elevated leg, but the thick pants made it impossible to gauge the severity of his condition. "How bad do you think it is?"

The table muffled Kaiba's reply. "Are there scissors in that kit?"

"Yeah."

"Cut the pant leg up to the knee."

Knowing that the alternative was somehow peeling Kaiba out of said pants, Jounouchi obeyed without complaint. He worked carefully, though, not wanting to cut Kaiba. A gigantic bruise sat halfway up to Kaiba's knee, right around where his ski boot ended. The entire area was swollen, but there was no sign of blood.

"No bone pushing through the skin, so that's a good sign." Kaiba said, suddenly right next to Jounouchi's ear. His warm breath puffed over Jounouchi's cheek.

Jounouchi jerked back, grabbing the chair's back to steady himself.

Thankfully, Kaiba was too preoccupied with examining his leg to notice his overreaction. "I should splint it."

Jounouchi jumped to his feet. "Splint, yeah, makes sense. Ya need a stick or something, right? I'll look for one."

As luck would have it, he dug up segments of PVC pipes already cut in half. Kaiba also appeared pleased when he presented them, kindling a warm glow within Jounouchi's ribcage.

"Can I help with anything else?" he asked, despite not knowing how to make a splint.

Kaiba hesitated before replying, "I have it handled. But I'll let you know if I need anything."

Jounouchi nodded automatically. He bounced between one foot and the other as Kaiba worked. But when Kaiba peered up at him for a second, something inside him snapped. He spun on his heels before declaring, "I saw a firewood shed out back. Gonna see if I can get a fire going for us."

Without waiting for a response, he fled the small cabin. The cold hit him in the face like a slap. It was invigorating. Got his blood pumping in a good way.

It wasn't until he dropped several split logs that he realized he'd left his gloves inside. Instead of going to retrieve them, he sank to his knees and cupped his numb hands to his mouth, blowing hot air over him. He couldn't say how long he stayed like that before the chill finally drove him back into the cabin.

Kaiba barely acknowledged him when he returned. That made Jounouchi feel simultaneously better and worse. The bastard hadn't even waited for Jounouchi to return before he somehow hobbled his way over to the loveseat close to the fireplace.

He focused on the fireplace instead.

Once the fire got going, the temperature inside warmed considerably. Unsurprisingly, Kaiba had to be bullied out of his outerwear before he could be swathed with blankets over his shoulders and his newly splinted leg.

Save for the seldom pop and crackle of the fire, it was silent.

Kaiba glared at his smartphone, occasionally adjusting its position as if that would catch a stray signal bar. Jounouchi also checked his phone, but he was sure his coverage was shit compared to Kaiba's.

Jounouchi also hung up his jacket to dry and shed his ski boots by the door. He didn't hesitate snatching the quilt off the bed in the other room, huddling under it while standing next to the fire.

"You stand any closer and you'll catch fire," came a dry quip from behind him.

He turned to face Kaiba and found the man with his phone facedown on his lap while squeezing the bridge of his nose. He lay lengthwise along the too-small loveseat with his legs elevated on the armrest and his sock-clad toes peeking out from under a blanket.

Despite that, Kaiba looked cozy? Shit, Jounouchi felt a bit insane even thinking about that. But Kaiba appeared comfy. His sharp angles and harsh lines blunted under the woolen cover.

Disarmed. Soft. Jounouchi had never seen him that way before.

"What?" snapped Kaiba, jerking Jounouchi from his hazy thoughts. When he shivered, though, the entire fabric mass shook with him.

"Still cold?" Jounouchi asked as he padded closer.

Kaiba dropped his gaze to his pale hands clasped on his lap. "Nothing to be alarmed about. I've always had circulation issues."

Jounouchi laughed. "Cuz you're a skinny beanpole."

Kaiba glared, but he didn't argue.

Another insane thought crossed Jounouchi's mind. One he shouldn't dare entertain, but being cold probably wasn't good for Kaiba's leg in his current state. He had already dedicated himself to Kaiba's well-being to this point. Might as well ensure neither of them froze into popsicles before Kaiba could get proper medical attention.

"Alright, budge up."

Kaiba should hurry. Before Jounouchi lost his nerves.

"Excuse me."

"Ya heard me. Make room. We're gonna share body heat."

"Why?" Kaiba's voice rose an octave. He gave Jounouchi a frantic once-over from head to toe.

"So we don't freeze, duh."

Kaiba looked at him as if he was insane.

Jounouchi felt insane.

"Look, you're still cold, and I'm not giving you this blanket too. It's the last one," he argued.

For a moment, Kaiba looked as if he might eject Jounouchi from the cabin entirely, busted leg be damned. But then a miracle happened. Kaiba, after lowering his gaze, scooted forward, making space for Jounouchi to join him on the furniture. With his heart in his throat, Jounouchi squeezed in, carefully wiggling until he bracketed Kaiba's tense frame with his legs. Without asking, because he was positive the answer would be no, Jounouchi pulled the other man's back flush to his chest.

Kaiba stiffened. He froze as if he had been left outside in sub-zero temperatures. That gave Jounouchi an opening to slip an arm around Kaiba's waist, but he left the limb atop a layer of quilt.

From this angle, he could only make out the back of Kaiba's head and the tip of his flaming ears.

Kaiba remained strangely mute. Only the steady rise and fall of his chest signaled his consciousness. Another shudder wracked through his body, and Jounouchi could feel it, from the hissing inhale to the tensing of back muscles to the exhale and shoulder slumping under the woolen weight.

Kaiba stopped shivering afterward, though. So that counted as a success, right?

"Don't worry, I don't mind sharing the bed with you if you want a space heater there too," Jounouchi joked. A hard lump formed in his throat, and he fought the urge to tighten his arms.

In response, Kaiba elbowed him in the stomach. But it was a light touch for him.

Jounouchi wouldn't admit it out loud, but he was content to remain here. Just the two of them huddled under blankets until the storm finally passed. And when Kaiba leaned back against him, he gave the impression he didn't mind either.

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[makoredeyes]

drifter/anyone (bonus points for rarepair), 17

*cracks knuckles* You play a dangerous game with that one, Anon <3

#17 - as a distraction

Mahjong nights were so long in standing now that the Drifter didn't even remember exactly when it had gotten started anymore. Time was kind of a screwy thing when you lived forever, but it couldn't have been that long because Eva still looked the same, and so did Tess, sort of. Unless Eva was just unaging because she was practicing some weird sort of life-force vampirism on Guardians or something.

He wouldn't put it past her.

Nice lady, real sweet.

Wouldn't trust her for five seconds outside of game night and her little holiday shindigs though.

And he knew she was on the exact same level with him. But that didn't matter on game night. Especially when Tess had brought a particularly fine bottle of aged whiskey as the winner's prize.

Now, Mahjong took three things to win: Skill, Strategy, and Luck. Drifter had a whole lot of all three, and he knew he could wipe these ladies right out of the tower every damn match if he really wanted to, but he liked to meter his winnings: keep it fair, and keep his true skills on the down-low. Sometimes he let them win for months before he took one, playing one dumb chip after another even if it hurt a little, because the Drifter was about playing the long game. For nights like tonight, when he was going to be taking that bottle home hell or high water.

"My, fortune is favoring you tonight my dear," Eva crooned, as Drifter laid down another piece, his hand getting smaller and smaller. "Not doing anything extra to help your luck, I hope." Tess made a soft snrk and sat back, blinking widely at the old woman and Drifter. Drifter sat up, clutching at his heart as though he'd been deeply wounded.

"Yer not suggestin' I'm cheatin' are ya?" He crooned. "I'd neva! Not when I know you could tear the recipe for my favorite cookies outta that cookbook you give the Guardians every year!" He held his hands up, shaking them and showing his sleeves were free of tricks. "Jus' good ole luck for the Drifter tonight, 'fraid."

Eva eyed him up and down, a little smirk playing on her lips.

What the Drifter hadn't yet realized, was he wasn't the only one playing win-or-die for that bottle.

"Well thank you for your honesty, dear," Eva simpered. She reached out and patted his hand when he lowered it, then leaned in and gave him a wet, sticky smack of a kiss right on the corner of the mouth.

He shuddered, his mind going blank.

Oh! No! Not good! He was not into that!

Brr!

Her lipstick was weird and waxy and her skin was fragile-soft and there was a weird sweetness to her breath on his skin and it was burned into his nostrils and he could taste it and he'd swapped spit with a lot of weird stuff but the self-proclaimed universal grandma to all was not on his to-do list and he'd never once taken an appraising eye to her and he never intended to.

Tess' eyebrows shot up and she stifled a smirk as she fought to keep from laughing as the Drifter struggled not to squirm, sputter, or do anything else uncouth. He was a professional after all, but this time his poker face faltered.

"Th-thanks, Eva," he wheezed, grimacing when he realized he probably couldn't get away with wiping his face with his sleeve.

Eva only nodded. She'd hit her mark. He didn't even realize how badly his focus had slipped, but his game was dreadful after that, and she slid right past him to eventually win. It wasn't until both women had trounced the Drifter into the ground and Eva had her whisky in hand, that he realized what had happened.

"You sly old bat," he drawled, eyeing her and finally giving his face a good scrub with his sleeve. "You did that on purpose."

She flashed him a viper's smile.

"Did what, dear?"