#prompts meme

[pistachoz]

✎ ˗ˏˋ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 ˎˊ˗

❝ That’s what she said! ❞

❝ Guess what, I have flaws. What are they? Oh I don’t know. I sing in the shower. Sometimes I spend too much time volunteering. Occasionally I’ll hit somebody with my car. So sue me. ❞

❝ I normally don’t enjoy making people laugh. ❞

❝ This is where I fell in love with you, and this is where I ask you to marry me. ❞

❝ I never thought I’d say this, but I think I ate too much bone marrow. ❞

❝ I just want to be friends. Plus a little extra. Also, I love you. ❞

❝ Me think, why waste time say lot word, when few word do trick. ❞

❝ I will raise a hundred children with a hundred of your lovers if it means I can be with you. ❞

❝ A few years ago, my family was on a safari in Africa and my cousin, Mufasa, was um, he was trampled to death by a pack of wildebeests and um, we all took it really hard. ❞

❝ And I feel God in this Chili’s tonight. ❞

❝ It’s true. Around this office in the past I have been a little abrupt with people. But the doctor said, if I can’t find a new way to relate more positively to my surroundings, I’m going to die. ❞

❝ I talk a lot, so I’ve learned to tune myself out. ❞

❝ Love is the water of life, drink deeply. ❞

❝ The future mother of my children. ❞

❝ Got it a week after we started dating. ❞

❝ I was just…i’m in love with you. ❞

❝ I can’t remember the last time someone made me dinner. ❞

❝ Would I rather be feared or loved? Easy, both. I want people to be afraid of how much they love me. ❞

❝ I don’t talk trash, I talk smack. They’re totally different. Trash talk is hypothetical, like: Your mom is so fat she can eat the internet. But smack talk is happening like right now. Like: You’re ugly and I know it for a fact ’cause I got the evidence right there. ❞  

❝ Life is short. Drive fast and leave a sexy corpse. That’s one of my mottos. ❞  

❝ It was love at first… see with my ears. ❞  

❝ I am about to do something very bold in this job that I've never done before…try. ❞

❝ There’s only…one thing that will make you give up on everything you thought you knew, every rational calculation. ❞

❝ I know a few things about love—horrible, terrible, awful, awful things. ❞

❝ I wonder what people like about me. Probably my jugs. ❞

❝ This expresses how loudly I love you!  ❞

❝ I’m in love! I was hit by Cupid’s sparrow. ❞

❝ Hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go. ‘Cause of your butt. ❞

❝ Everything i have i owe to this job…this stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing job. ❞

❝ All right, then it’s a date. ❞

❝ There’s a lot of beauty in ordinary things. Isn’t that kind of the point? ❞

❝ I guess I’ve been working so hard, I forgot what it’s like to be hardly working. ❞

❝ I say dance, they say ‘How high? ❞

❝ Fool me once, strike one. Fool me twice, strike three ❞

❝ The only problem is whenever I try to make a taco, I get too excited and crush it. ❞

❝ There are always a million reasons not to do something ❞ 

❝ Who says exactly what they’re thinking? ❞

❝ I would say I kind of have an unfair advantage because I watch reality dating shows like a hawk, and I learn. I absorb information from the strategies of the winners and the losers. Actually, I probably learn more from the losers. ❞

❝ Do I need to be liked? Absolutely not. I like to be liked. I enjoy being liked. I have to be liked, but it’s not like this compulsive need to be liked, like my need to be praised. ❞

❝ I’ve got a golden-ticket idea. Why don’t you skip on up to the roof and jump off? ❞

❝ I mean, I’m not a slut but who knows. ❞

❝ I don’t care what they say about me. I just want to eat. Which I realize is a lot to ask for. At a dinner party. ❞

❝ I just want to lie on the beach and eat hot dogs. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. ❞

❝ Close your mouth, sweetie. You look like a trout. ❞

❝ I do not like pregnant women in my workspace. They’re always complaining. I have varicose veins, too. I have swollen ankles. I’m constantly hungry. Do you think my nipples don’t get sore too? Do you think I don’t need to know the fastest way to the hospital? ❞

❝ No question about it, I am ready to get hurt again. ❞

❝ Guess what, I have flaws. What are they? Oh I don’t know. I sing in the shower. Sometimes I spend too much time volunteering. Occasionally I’ll hit somebody with my car. So sue me. ❞

❝ I am running away from my responsibilities. And it feels good. ❞

❝ Besides having sex with men, I would say the Finer Things Club is the gayest thing about me. ❞

❝ I don’t hate it. I just don’t like it at all and it’s terrible. ❞

❝ I am a black belt in gift wrapping. ❞

❝ I want to be wine and dined and sixty nined. ❞

❝ Your body is a temple. You have to respect it. You can’t just whore it out. ❞

❝ I am Beyonce, always. ❞

❝ I love inside jokes. I’d love to be a part of one someday. ❞

❝ I do not apologize unless I think I’m wrong, and if you don’t like it, you can leave. ❞

❝ Ultimatums are key. Basically nobody does anything for me anymore unless I threaten to kill myself. ❞

❝ As a person who buys a lot of erotic cakes, it’s nice to be represented on one. ❞

❝ Sometimes I get so bored I just want to scream, and then sometimes I actually do scream. I just sort of feel out what the situation calls for. ❞

❝ I miss the days when there was only one party I didn’t want to go to. ❞

[raymurata]

Codex prompts: 5 for Alec?

A letter from the Left Hand of the Divine to King Alistair of Ferelden. 9:38 Dragon.

Dear Alistair,

How is life back in Ferelden? It has been a while since we last saw each other, but whenever I think of you and Mara and the kids, I get a rush of warmth in my heart. You have done so well for yourselves; it is a balm to sore souls. I hope this letter finds all of you in great spirits, despite the current events. 

However, it is because of current events that I write. The conflicts between mages, templars and the Chantry are escalating, as you must know, and we are in dire need of someone of strong resolve to assist us. Alec came to mind. Some in the Chantry do not believe an elven mage to be quite the spokesperson they need, but I think it is about time we opened the doors of Chantry leadership to everyone, regardless of what their ears look like or what powers the Maker found fit to bestow upon them.

As a mage, I am sure that Alec would have more luck appeasing to the rebel mages than anyone else. Not to mention what I have seen him accomplish when we were all fighting together against the Blight. Alec turns plans into reality; he makes things happen. His assistance could prevent so many deaths. I have seen so many young mages left devoid of a house, of food, because of this conflict. So many have died on both sides. If he would champion a platform for peace, we might end this war, and we might bring real change to the Circles -- long overdue.

The problem is… I cannot seem to find him. I have sent an agent to Soldier’s Peak, but Sigrun, his Second-in-Command, informed them that Alec was out on confidential businesses. That he had been away for months I sent missives to Vigil’s Keep and Weisshaupt to no avail. He hasn’t been to either lately. That is why I turn to you, old friend. You are his family. Perhaps he has told Mara of his whereabouts, or sent a letter as of recently?

I would appreciate any information on where Alec might be. It could mean the end of this conflict, if we can just find him.

Please send Mara and the kids all of my love,

Best wishes,

Leliana.

And the reply:

A letter from King Alistair to the Left Hand of the Divine. 9:38 Dragon.

First of all, I am offended you did not mean me by “someone of strong resolve,” but I will let that slide. Unfortunately, I do not think I can help you on this one. 

The last time Alec was here was some eight months ago, and he hasn’t sent any letters since. He stayed a while, but didn’t tell me or Mara where he was going next – I mean, he did, but even I am not that stupid to believe him, right? Getting him to tell you of his plans when he doesn’t want to share them is like trying to wring milk out of a feral bronto or something. I’d rather not, so I didn’t even try. 

He did say something about a dwarven resort and hot springs? Sounded like just another one of his lies, but I admit I was actually tempted to check that out myself. You know, if it weren’t for mages breaking out of Circles and Templars going rogue and all of that lovely fun. Can you believe no one told me Kings didn’t have paid holidays when I signed up for this? Beats me why anyone would willingly want to be King – except maybe for the fact you don’t have to write your own letters.

Anyhow… About Alec. I’m sorry I can’t help. To be honest, however, I doubt he would be willing to play puppet for the Chantry in the current conflicts, but what do I know of that man? He’s weird.

You should stop by sometime. The kids loved the Orlesian toys you sent, and they sometimes ask about the auntie who plays music. 

Something something, good luck, best wishes, you know the drill.

King Alistair of Ferelden

on the corner, in rustier handwriting and containing a few spelling errors: This scribe says he is honor-bound to write every single word I say. I know he’s having me on, but I can’t really fire him. He’s got a baby kid.

OC Codex Prompts Ask Meme. #5 - letters between two of your OC’s companions about them

[tysonrunningfox]

If you’re still doing requests (and you haven’t done this one/want to do it): Hiccstrid #1?

Ok, secret, or not so secret.  It’s kind of hard for me to do sappy, canon type prompts for canon couples who get sappy time.  So when I recieved both “we’re more than friends and you fucking know it” and “don’t cry, I can’t stand to see you cry”, I put them together, gave them to vindictive matchmaker playwright Snotlout and here we are.  

One Time Before Band Camp a tentative title 

Despite the recent exacerbation of his astigmatism, Snotlout isn’t blind.  He knew the second he got grouped into a trio with Hiccup and Astrid in drama class that not only would he end up doing all the work, but that they’d sit there and pretend not to moon at each other the entire time.  Well, he didn’t know the entire time that he’d be doing all the work, he only knew as of the night before their skit was due when he texted them to see if they had it done and they reminded him that he said he’d start it.  

Which he didn’t.  He said he could start it, but that meant that one of them was supposed to volunteer.  And he guesses he zoned out at that point because he really thought one of them was going to do it.  

So as of eleven pm last night, he knew he was going to have to do all of the work because they volunteered to perform the skit if he just wrote it, and that was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.  

Hiccup fidgets and squints at the piece of paper under the single bright stage light, clearing his throat and shooting Snotlout a glare out of the corner of his eye.  Snotlout waves him on, giving Astrid’s valiant attempt to shoot lasers at him out of her eyes a thumbs up.  Astrid is bright red, red enough that the few students paying attention are whispering and they giggle at the awkward way Hiccup gestures between them, wincing like even he doesn’t want to hear what he’s about to say.  

“We should just get on with this.”  

“Have you read it?” Astrid deadpans, shifting from foot to foot slightly and staring at the drama teacher to save her.  

The teacher doesn’t care, he’s too busy editing his next big screenplay while wearing noise cancelling headphones and the shifty, irritating entity that is Hiccstrid has finally fallen straight into Snotlout’s trap.  Ever since Hiccup grew six inches last summer and Snotlout and Astrid quietly broke up before it, Snotlout’s dating prospects have been an unmitigated disaster.  But if he matches his ex-girlfriend/assumed date repellant with his hot ticket cousin that she’s been staring at for months, he might just be able to turn that around.  

“Uh yeah, I read it.”  Hiccup laughs, glancing at the class like he wishes they would disappear.  “I don’t think any amount of method acting is going to catch the academy’s interest but…”  

“Stop dissing my skit and perform it already,” Snotlout kicks his feet up on the side of the stage, folding his arms behind his head.  It takes physical effort not to rejoice dance, monkeys, dance, when Hiccup clears his throat to start reading, but Snotlout would really like to get this over with so he can ask Ruffnut to the dance on Friday.  

“Uh, hey.”  Hiccup’s arm bounces as he sounds out the words like it’s his first time speaking English.  “What’s got you so down?”  

“Nothing.”  Astrid is no better and as much as their flirting confused Snotlout at first, seeing them like this so…lacking stage presence and talent, he kind of likes them together.  “I’m just confused about what happened last night when you kissed me.”  

She punctuates that with a glare at Snotlout, her blush darkening when she looks back at Hiccup.  

“I don’t know what came over me.  I’d just never seen you in the moonlight before.”  

“What did it make you feel?”  Astrid delivers, voice wooden, and Snotlout kind of starts to imagine this with better actors.  And background music.  And maybe he should take his obvious skit writing prowess elsewhere.  

“It made me feel things–Snotlout no, I’m not saying that.”  Hiccup points at the paper, “how did I miss that before?  I’m not saying that–”

“Ok, ok, skip the ‘in my pants’ part, that’s fine, just get on with the rest of it.”  Snotlout rolls his eyes, looking at the girl sitting next to him.  “Actors, am I right?”  

She ignores him, obviously caught up in the literary genius at play.  

“It made me feel things that I thought, no, I knew would ruin our friendship.”  Hiccup’s voice dips, a little too honest, and the magic of the theater makes him look compelling for an instant.  

Astrid shakes her head, gripping the paper in slightly tighter fists, “we’re not just friends. We’re not just friends and you f–Snotlout, I can’t say fuck in drama class!”  

“You totally just did.”  

“Fuck,” Astrid murmurs and Hiccup smiles at her, goofy and genuine, like he’s really capturing the essence of the forbidden love between these two totally fictional characters.  “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

“I’m just scared, I don’t want to lose what we have.”  He sounds decent until he gets to the real emotional impact of the piece, “and I’m leaving to Clarinet Prison forever, tomorrow.  Snotlout, that’s not a thing.”  

“You said you read it,” Astrid blushes darker than ever, folding her script and tucking it beside her.  “You didn’t, did you?”  

“I…didn’t have time.”  He shrugs.  “I figured how bad can it be but–”

“It’s Snotlout.”  

“Yeah, it’s Snotlout, that was a mistake,” Hiccup laughs and glances at the teacher again.  “Let’s just…finish it.  It can’t get worse than Clarinet Prison, can it?”  

“You guys just don’t understand art,” Snotlout crosses his arms, glaring at the slow shrinking space between them as Astrid shuffles towards Hiccup and clears her throat.  

The whole class is still watching, for some reason, or at least the ones who started out watching haven’t stopped.  Most people are asleep or on their phones.  They’ll all regret this someday when Snotlout gets functional actors to put on a real production of his first hit screenplay, tentatively titled One Time Before Band Camp.  

“I don’t get why you call it prison, you’re so talented.  And you know what they say about a man with big lungs…”

“I can’t help how big my lungs are, not since the accident.”  Hiccup barely holds back a laugh, but still manages to effectively ruin the weight of the moment.  

“Please don’t cry, I can’t stand to see you cry.”  Astrid giggles too, raising her hand to cup Hiccup’s cheek and stifling his laugh against her thumb.  “I love you just the way you are, big lungs and all.”  

“Love?”  Hiccup goes off script entirely, pausing for a second with his eyebrows knit together before leaning in and kissing Astrid like the drama teacher isn’t sitting ten feet down the stage.  Astrid drops her folded script, her hand sliding into Hiccup’s hair like isn’t supposed to happen until competent actors get through Act 2 and the unfortunate bassoon recital number three.

“Hey, I didn’t write that.”  

Astrid pulls back, glaring at him, “yeah, you did, two lines down.”  

“I didn’t read that far,” Hiccup licks his lips, staring at Astrid like a miracle and touching the back of her hand still on his cheek.  

“You two are still going?”  The drama teacher finally takes his headphones off, squinting at Hiccup’s dumbstruck face.  “I said three minutes, but excellent emotion.  A’s, I guess, next!”  

They climb dumbly off of the stage, sitting down beside Snotlout with hands quietly intertwined.  Good.  Finally.  Now Ruffnut can stop going on about Hiccup’s tight pants and Astrid will enforce it.  

The next skit, which is woefully uninspired from the first line, starts and Astrid elbows Snotlout hard in the arm.  

“Ouch!  What?  You look like you enjoyed yourself, don’t take it out on me.”  

“How the hell did you know we kissed last night?”  

“Huh?”  

She looks at Hiccup and he shrugs, like he doesn’t mind her revealing the secret.  

“We didn’t help you last night because we were…”

“Oh god, I don’t need to know that.”  Snotlout shakes his head, “and to think I went through all this work.  You guys are lucky I got a real winner out of it.”  

“Wait…were you trying to make us kiss?”  Hiccup cocks his head and Snotlout shrugs.  

“You were too incompetent to.”  

Astrid snorts, “you know, that’s actually kind of nice of you.”  

“Trust me,” Snotlout sighs, “I’m not a hero, I did it for all the wrong reasons.”  

“Well, still nice of you,” Astrid squeezes Hiccup’s hand and Snotlout looks back at the skit on stage.  He doesn’t need to see anymore of that today.  Or ever.  

[nukeanon]

worth the wait prompts #1-10

legend: *** : prompt claimed (yay!)

❄ Luke/Noah: Groundhog Day scenario : Noah keeps reliving the day of his and Luke's first kiss. What happens on the 2nd first time? The 3rd? The 4th? [vid of 1st kiss]

❄ Van/Jake: Halloween party

❄ Luke/Noah: Don't you pretend that you don't need a little more from me/ You're actin' like it's nothin'/ We both know it's somethin'/ Even in the dark everyone can see // So don't you pretend that you're not wishing I was next to you/ Hot and cold as ever, want me but you never/ Let your guard down and I need some proof [vid of song]

❄ Luke/Noah: AU where Noah and Luke aren't together (but have secret!feelings of course) and they pretend to be boyfriends for the sake of Luke's upcoming high school reunion (or literally any variation on a high school reunion AU)

❄ Luke/Noah: Bodyguard!AU. Noah Mayer was the best. Lucinda Walsh only hired the best. It was for her grandson Luke Snyder, after all, out and proud CEO of one of the largest LGBT charities in the country. Luke loved his grandmother dearly, but he didn't need the protection. Especially not when it came in such a distracting package. Noah had rules, too. Too many of them. Luke can't help but keep breaking them, however unintentionally. Noah loved his job. It was a job. He was married to the job. Yes... job.

❄ *** Luke/Noah: "Hi, you don't know me, but I'm your husband."

❄ Luke/Noah: magic!au. Everything Luke dreams comes true. Naturally, he sleeps as little as he can, drinking as much coffee as he can. Then the cute barista shows up in his afternoon nap, dressed to the nines, saying "I do."

❄ Luke/Noah: Persuasion!AU. Luke and Noah fall in love, despite Luke's aristocratic family and Noah's low social-class standing. Noah tries to convince Luke to move with him to LA, but Luke is persuaded out of it by members of his family. Flash-forward several years, and Noah has become a successful director, while Luke's family has fallen on hard times. His parents rent out their mansion in order to help pay off their debt. The rest of the family moves into a smaller house, while Luke stays with his younger sister Faith and her family to look after her ailing health. The new tenants happen to be Luke's good friends Maddie and Casey; however, they are also friends with Noah, whom they invite over often. Luke must now face Noah years after he rejected him, seeing him date other people and feeling regret over his decision.

❄ Luke/Noah: role reversal AU: Noah’s family is the uber rich legacy drama family of Oakdale, Luke is new to town and works at Java.

❄ Luke/Noah: Alternate meeting. Luke sends over a package to his sister Faith ahead of his visit to her new place in L.A. Only, he got the address off by a number and the package gets delivered to her neighbor Noah instead.

> > about | all prompts | + a prompt

[arituzz]

"for the last time, snow, you cannot wear socks with sandals!"

“Why not?”

“It’s unaesthetic.”

“So is life, Baz.”

“I’m not coming with you if you don’t take the socks off.”

“Okay, but you have to take two pieces of clothes off, too, it’s only fair.”

[nukeanon]

worth the wait prompt #8

Pairing: Noah Mayer/Luke Snyder Prompt: Persuasion!AU. Luke and Noah fall in love, despite Luke's aristocratic family and Noah's low social-class standing. Noah tries to convince Luke to move with him to LA, but Luke is persuaded out of it by members of his family. Flash-forward several years, and Noah has become a successful director, while Luke's family has fallen on hard times. His parents rent out their mansion in order to help pay off their debt. The rest of the family moves into a smaller house, while Luke stays with his younger sister Faith and her family to look after her ailing health. The new tenants happen to be Luke's good friends Maddie and Casey; however, they are also friends with Noah, whom they invite over often. Luke must now face Noah years after he rejected him, seeing him date other people and feeling regret over his decision. >> See Worth the Wait: nuke_anon Prompts Meme Requests for the full list of prompts.

[tackytigerfic]

The way you said, 30! Thank you! ❤

Too quick, mumbled into your scarf. I love this one, tastey! Thank you. Here it is.

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Harry liked it, having Draco to come home to. Having Draco.

Before they had moved in together—and they went too quickly from kissing to fucking to living together, everyone had said it, but Harry had just shrugged and said that when you know, you know, and Draco had said nothing, just looked a bit tight around the mouth and like he was afraid that someone was going to take it all away from him, and Harry couldn't have that—Harry had thought it would be more... well, just more difficult.

Because Malfoy was so posh (still, even with his parents dead and the Manor repossessed and his new predilection for jeans), and had always had such nice things, and Harry had presumed there would be antiques, and certainly a wine rack at the very least, and a load of sniffy portraits who’d probably act the dick to Harry in his own home.

Plus there was the potions stuff—Malfoy didn’t have enough money for a lab yet—and Harry had imagined there would bobotuber pus on their kitchen table and too much smoke, oily stuff like Harry remembered from school, and gritty gouts of stinking potions residue in the sink where Harry rinsed their veggies and did the dishes.

Only Draco was good at potions, and was very clean, and it was actually a bit lovely watching him work; the blue flames humming, the musical clink of wand on glass, the simple harmony of the ritual. Harry liked to sit with him and breathe in the fumes of lovely, familiar things like Pepper-Up and Amortentia (the blast of hot air from the oven when Molly opened the door to take out a roast, newly-trimmed Quidditch grass, the clean skin smell of Draco’s body, the sharp tang of expensive leather from the gloves Draco had worn the first time he wanked Harry off behind the Hog’s Head back in that lonely, desperate winter years ago).

So really, living with Draco was all very easy, in fact, once everyone (including, probably, Draco himself) had got over the shock. And actually, it turned out that Draco did like nice things, still. Only it happened that the things he liked were also things that Harry thought were nice.

Like flowers on the bedside cabinets, and fresh bedlinen (white, clean, sweet-smelling, which Draco hung to dry by hand on the washing line so they’d bring the outside in). Pastries on weekend mornings. Draco moving around the kitchen, talking about potions in a low quiet voice, the small magic of it. Agrippa and antimony, granian hair and honey water and neem oil.

He always had talked a lot, Harry remembered, and he said as much about himself. I never shut up, I’m a bit much sometimes, with that crease between his brows that showed he was cross about caring too much about it; and he said out it just like that, like it was a fact, as though it was something he’d heard from other people too many times before.

But Harry had never had enough of anything, growing up, and privately he thought that a bit much sounded like just right. Not that he knew how to tell Draco that, but Draco seemed to understand anyway.

Harry liked the mornings, not waking up alone. He liked having someone to cook for. He liked all the sex—trying to get Draco to make those noises (because the only time he was quiet was when they were fucking, biting down on the heel of his hand like he couldn't allow himself to breathe let alone show how much he wanted it all).

Harry liked that a lot, in fact, but it wasn't just the heat and breathlessness and pleasure of it—and fuck, what pleasure—but it was the feeling of having one particular person, someone just for him. Like being part of a team.

They didn't talk about loving each other, of course. Neither of them was good with that sort of thing, and anyway Harry had always been better at doing. And Draco, well Draco didn't trust the word love. It always meant the wrong things, before.

He said it once though, when Harry was about to go out in the snow for the papers, and was carelessly muffling himself up to his eyeballs in Draco’s old school scarf. Draco had kissed him on the mouth right through all the layers of green and told him crossly, I love you, and again with another kiss, the outbreath of it muggy through the wool, I love you, Harry, like Harry was somehow at fault. But he sounded like he meant it.

Harry didn’t need to hear it often, anyway. Once was enough—was more than he'd ever had before—especially coming from Draco, in that accusing tone that showed he'd never said it and meant it before.

So Harry bought the ring anyway. Thought he’d have it ready for the right time. He knew it was definitely the right thing—or at least, that it was something he wanted (almost more than he'd ever wanted anything) which he figured was pretty much the same thing, really.

He kept the ring in his sock drawer, because that’s what people did with these things, holding onto it for when he was—they were—ready. But he hadn’t really considered Draco and his thieving ways. Which was probably why he came home one day to find Draco sitting on the edge of the bed in just his underpants, with Harry’s warmest Weasley socks (the robbing bastard) abandoned on the floor beside the bed, and the closed box in one trembling hand.

Harry took one look at the scene and very strongly considering just turning on his heel and Apparating away from the look on Draco’s face, but he couldn’t really leave Draco all pinched and white-faced and disbelieving on their bed, so he took a deep breath and shoved his hands in his pockets and stayed where he was.

Draco’s voice was thin in the quiet room.

“Is this… ? Did you… ?”

There wasn’t really anything for it, because it was, and he had, so Harry nodded. And even though Draco didn’t like apologies, he added, “Sorry, you weren’t meant to… well.”

“Clearly.” Draco sounded a little more like himself. “Your hiding place was so elaborate.”

And that was irritating, because it wasn’t Harry’s fault Draco was pathologically unable to wear his own fucking socks.

“I was keeping it,” he said, “for your birthday. And then we went and got drunk and I didn’t want to ask you drunk. Because you’d probably think it was gauche, or whatever.”

“Impossibly so,” Draco murmured.

“And also,” Harry continued, “because I didn’t know… I mean, I wasn’t sure…”

I wasn’t sure you’d say yes was what he wanted to say, but it seemed a bit too big to have that out there, all of a sudden. Not to mention that then Draco might tell Harry that actually, he wouldn’t have said yes. And where would that leave Harry with his big, lonely house, and his stupid ring (winking with diamond constellations, of all things) that was probably far too gaudy for words, but had seemed like the right one when he’d seen it.

But then Draco blanched, which Harry hadn’t known was an actual thing until right that second, and said “I see,” in a horribly chilly voice, and Harry realised what he’d said, or what it sounded like he'd said, and he moved fast, almost ran to the edge of the bed and sank down to his knees in front of Draco.

“”No,” he said, and then nonsensically, over and over, “No, Draco, no, no no.”

Draco must have been sitting there for quite some time, because his thigh was cold when Harry laid his cheek against it.

“I meant, I didn’t know if you’d want me to. I meant, I wanted to. I meant, I just needed to be sure you wouldn’t think it was stupid.”

Draco lifted his cool, shaky hand then, and began to stroke; through Harry’s curls, down the nape of his neck, along the ridge of his spine under his shirt collar, then back up again to cup the base of his skull.

“I don’t,” he said, “I mean, I do think it's stupid in general. But not like this. Not if it’s you.”

And that seemed to be that (enough, more than enough, just right). And the ring fit perfectly.

Read it on AO3

[blaizekit]

✏ hhhhhhhhhh HHHHHIDAN

Send ✏ + character(s) for some short prose

Hidan was having a bad day.

A shitty day.

A fucking shitty day.

Even in the midst of mentally complaining, Hidan amused himself for a while deciding the best way todescribe the kind of day he was having.

Anyway.

Being a head inside of a hole in the ground was not the mostenriching environment. ‘Bad day’ was sort of a general state of being. But some days were worse than others.

Rainy days, for example. He could always tell the weather long before the cold water made its way down to him, before it pooled in his ears and sent wriggling creatures over his skin in the darkness.

The earth spoke to him in its own language, and he understood it most of the time. That was how he knew, felt sure there was someone standing over his grave. Someone who knew he was there. Someone who was not supposed to be there. A trespasser. 

His only hope. It had to be real this time. It had to be.

So it started off as a good day, in that sense. But it quickly spiraled.

“Kakuzu!!” he screamed as soon as someone pulled him into the light by his hair. He just assumed the old bastard had finally come back for him. Who else would have done it?

But no. It was someone he didn’t recognize. And they were ugly as shit, too. Waxy white skin that didn’t look normal on a human being. Creepy yellow eyes. A stupid-looking flop of hair underneath a dark burgundy hood.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The thing smirked at him. Somehow, Hidan just kind of knew it. He wasn’t finding his freedom today.