#prompt 26

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— flufftober (day 16) —

Warnings: fluff, dad!bucky (he’s a warning), sexual tension, a bit of sad!Bucky, pregnancy

Prompt: Fireplace

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

@flufftober || flufftober masterlist

A/N: these are going to be veryyy late submissions. but it’s not my fault writer’s block hit me now. i mean kinda but not really. i’ll be posting these randomly here and there when inspiration comes. enjoy!

Bucky surveyed the living room with a small frown adorning his lips and a small twinkle in his eyes. His eyes trailed over the couches covered in crayons and papers before falling to the action figures and toys laying on the floor like casualties of a battlefield. The smell of chicken nuggets and fries lingered in the air, mixing in with the vanilla scented candle he had lit after the boys were sent to bed.

He heard you before he saw you, the telltale creak of the second step alerting him before you could remember it existed. He saw you step up beside him with a sigh and send a long glance at the pile of dishes in the sink. He smiled softly at the adoring smile that had somehow, in amidst of the chaotic closing of the night, appeared on your lips.

He nudged your shoulder with his. "Think we'll survive this?" He joked when you turned your head to look at him. The teasing tone in his voice made you giggle, lowly so that you didn't wake the sleeping boys.

"We always do, don't we?" You replied swiftly, looking at the family portrait you had managed to take last month at Disneyworld—a gift from Tony. You and Bucky were at the center, holding the one of two-year-old twins each, Grant & Thomas, while the four-year-old Grayson was held in the middle by Bucky. The smiles on each of their faces were adorable enough to have you slightly hazy with the memory.

With a huff, you looked at Bucky and said, "Let's split up."

"Toys or dishes?" Bucky raised his eyebrows and waited for your answer. You smirked and looked at the floor covered in Legos, action figures, and blocks.

"There's no way I can bend down for that long, Buck," you answered, placing your hand on your swollen belly. Bucky chuckled and nodded, a rare grin on his face that lit his face and flashed his dimples.

You two were done with kids—you really were done after having three boys—but you knew Bucky had wanted a girl. And you secretly did, too. Especially after seeing him with Morgan, you both starting trying again. It wasn't as if you weren't opposed to having another boy either—all three boys were such mama's boys that it made both you and Bucky all warm inside.

When you had brought that up, Bucky had laughed and kissed your concern away, adding in a simple, "If this one turns out anything like the boys when they grow up, I'll be more than happy. Boy or girl." That was the end of your worries. When you two learned that you were having a girl, it became apparent that Bucky's phrase third time's a charm turned out to be true.

"I'll get cleaning here then," Bucky said while reaching out to grab your hand and kiss your knuckles. "But you gotta promise me that you'll sit down if your feet hurt. And you—" his eyes flickering down and his metal hand coming to your stomach— "don't give your mama a hard time, 'kay?"

A soft kick landed on his hand and his smile widened. "I hope that was an 'okay, papa' and not a hard no," he teased with a wink at you.

"Yeah, okay. I promise." You smiled up at him and tilted your head as an invitation. He leaned in to peck your lips and then you two split up as planned.

He quickly gathered the bigger toys first, knowing he would trip over them or not see a Lego piece before it was too late. After dumping those to the side, he bent down and started piling the Legos together and then dumping them into its container. He fell back to sit on his butt after noticing that he had been balancing on his toes. He sat with his legs bent and elbows resting on his knees.

He had barely begun and he was already tired of cleaning up. He glanced around the couch to look at you. You were almost finished with the dishes, wearing an apron to reduce the water from staining your clothes. Well, they were his hoodie and sweatpants, but he was pretty sure you wore them more often than him. He never minded it, even if he complained about never having his clothes with a playful glare aimed at you.

Bucky got up and walked over to you silently, purposely missing the creaky board. He wrapped his arms around you, feeling you jump slightly in his arms before settling into his chest.

"Thought I told you to sit down if—"

"If my feet hurt," you cut in with a chuckle. "I know, but I'm okay right now. Promise." He hummed and pulled you closer to him. He kissed the curve of your neck and made his way up to the sensitive spot that made you squirm away.

"Hey," Bucky protested with a boyish smile. He tightened his arms around you with mind to the swell of your belly and the baby girl inside to keep you in place as he kissed that spot again.

"Bucky!" You squealed, but pressed your lips together the next moment with his little hush.

"The kids are sleeping," he murmured against your skin, causing a shiver to seep through your body. "Don't wanna be too loud—"

Your hiss made him pause and move away, suddenly scared that he had hurt you with his strength. It wouldn't be the first time that he had, but those times were under different circumstances and controlled. Just as he was moving away with his arms loosening around you, you grabbed his forearm and leaned back into his chest.

"Doll?" He whispered, afraid to speak. He swallowed when your breath hitched again.

"She's kicking my ribs again," you mumbled, eyes closing and head tilting onto his shoulder. He relaxed a little, wrapping his arms around you again, and slipped his hands under the hoodie to rub little circles into the soft skin. "She's strong, though. That much is obvious."

Bucky kissed your neck. "Just like her mama."

"Pretty sure it's that super-soldier serum."

"Don't drag my wife down." He bit your neck playfully. "You're the one who gave birth to our boys. We both know I'm not that strong."

"There's other complications with that, anyway," you remarked, relaxing when you realized that the kicking had ceased.

"Just take the compliment, doll." Bucky saw you smile and open your eyes, placing the last dish on the rack to dry and turning in his arms. You grinned and an idea sparked in his head. "What d'you say we turn tonight into a date night?"

"What?" You laughed slightly and placed your hands on his chest.

"Just—" Bucky let out a breath— "Just go sit down on the couch, the only one not covered in papers and crayons, and relax and wait for me to clean up. Then we can watch a movie with the fire going. What d'you say, huh?"

"I say," you started, moving your hands around his neck and tangling them between his locks, "it sounds like we'll be watching what I want to." Your eyes sparkled with amusement and mischief.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Sounds about right."

"Well, then, get ready to watch Scream."

You backed away and walked into the living room. You hopped over the toys still scattered with a smile and flopped down on the couch. Bucky followed you and grabbed the remote to pass to you before he started to clean up the remaining toys. He started the fireplace and watched it blaze for a second. Then he realized that the lights had been turned off.

"You ready, Jamie?"

Bucky sat down next to you. Your presence seemed to warm him more than the fireplace.

"'Course I am."

———

Taglist: @pinkposttragedy

add yourself to the taglist >here<

#flufftober 2023 #day 16 #prompt 26 #mcu #mcu x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #bucky barnes x reader #mcu x y/n #mcu x you #marvel mcu #bucky barnes x y/n #avenger x reader #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #james barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #james barnes x you #james bucky barnes #james barnes #x reader

[writing-promptsss]

Prompt #26

"I may not always be right, but I'm never wrong."

"I don't think that's how things work."

#writers #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #writing prompt #writing prompts #writeblr #writing inspiration #writing #writerscommunity #writersociety #writerscorner #writer things #writeblr community #story prompt #story prompts #story inspo #story ideas #story inspiration #prompt #prompts #dialogue prompt #creative writing #creative writing prompt #creative writing inspo #creative writing ideas #original prompt #daily prompt #dailyprompt #daily writing prompt #prompt 26

[kybercrystals94]

Just a Good Cup of Caf

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023 | Day 26 | Prompt 26: Seeing Double | “You Look Awful.”

Rating: G

Words: 683

Summary: Hunter just wants a good cup of caf. Is that too much to ask??

The sound of the caf machine sputtering to life in the kitchen area makes Hunter sit up straight in the pilot’s chair where he has sat for the last thousand rotations...give or take. He just had to draw the short straw and get first watch after a 36 standard hour mission with no sleep. He could probably convince any of his brothers to start their shift early. They aren’t heartless monsters. But Hunter refuses to cut his shift short, no matter how many times he goes cross-eyed. Out of principle. And pride. Mostly pride.

Hunter tries to determine which of the members is already up. His first guess is Echo, who seems to struggle staying asleep for any length of time, although Tech is in that same category. He doesn’t bother to put Wrecker on the list, the odds of him being awake already and making caf would be a miracle. Crosshair does make the list, but settles at the bottom, able to sleep through almost anything when he puts his mind to it.

The next mental list Hunter creates is which one he would hope to be making caf. Each Batcher has a different method which results in vastly different flavors, despite using the same tin of grounds. Hunter, he even admits, does not make good caf. He can never get the proportions right.

Echo makes the strongest caf, brewed so dark one almost has to chew the stuff. Hunter shudders at the thought. He hopes Echo isn’t making caf.

Tech appreciates the idea of caf, but does not like the flavor, which means a weak brew with enough sweetener to rot bones. The Batch always teases him that it isn’t the caf that keeps him up, but the sugar. Tech adamantly disagrees.

Wrecker doesn’t make caf as a rule, simply because he somehow manages to always break the machine in some way, although none of them have figured out how he does it.

The golden child of making caf is Crosshair. Crosshair doesn’t even drink caf, only making it begrudgingly at the desperate request of his brothers who can all agree that his concoction is absolutely perfect. Not too strong or weak, and not burned. Please let it be Crosshair.

However, Hunter realizes dejectedly, unless Crosshair woke up early and is in a generous mood, the likelihood of getting a good cup of caf is practically nonexistent. It will either be sludge or dirty water. Though, as his vision doubles yet again, he pushes himself up to accept whichever fate might await him.

He treads lightly down the hall, stretching the stiff muscles in his back, shoulders and neck. When he turns into the kitchen, his weary heart lifts when he is met by Crosshair glaring at him over a steaming mug. “You look awful,” the sniper says.

“Thanks.” Hunter is too tired to roll his eyes. “You make caf?”

Crosshair grins wickedly. “No. Echo did.” He nods his head in the direction of the table.

Hunter’s eyes drift to where their fifth squad member sits with his own mug of the brewed liquid. “I made you a cup,” Echo says, “Crosshair was just about to bring it to you.”

“Out of the kindness of his heart, I’m sure,” Hunter grumbles, but he accepts the caf anyway.

“It was going to be a surprise,” Crosshair says.

Hunter narrows his eyes at his brother, doesn’t miss the subtle smirk as Crosshair ducks past him.

Echo chuckles from his corner. “Hunter. I didn’t make the caf. Cross did.”

“What?” Hunter’s exhausted mind can’t keep up. “But…”

“He told you it was me as a prank,” Echo explains patiently. “Thought it’d be funny to see the look on your face when you thought he made caf and it turned out it was me. Which, I will admit, was fairly entertaining — even though it was at my expense.” Echo takes a careful sip of his caf.

Hunter smiles and takes a long drink of the perfect, scalding beverage. Leave it to Cross to do something kind for a brother disguised as a mischievous act.

END

Author’s Note: I don’t think there is anything quite so trivially disappointing as going to a coffee shop, ordering a coffee, getting it, and taking that first wonderful sip…only for the shots to be burned, or it’s just not made “right.” **sigh**

Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink

✨Let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list!✨

#whumptober 2023 #Day 26 #Prompt 26 #Seeing Double #You look awful #star wars #the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb echo #caf #exhaustion #brothers are the best and the worst #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer

[promptsbytaurie]

prompt #26

“Do it. Prove me wrong. Hell, prove me right. Don’t you see? It’s a game. It’s all a game.”

#prompt 26 #writing prompt #dialogue prompt

[thedarknesssings]

Prompt 26: Tangled Webs

Prompt 26: Last - FFxiv Write 2023 Characters: Simon, Esra, J, Andre, Marcel, Valentino.

Another Vampire the Masquerade short: A behind the scenes look at what exactly happened during that Elders meeting. 

“You’re sending them on a wild goose chase.”  Simon narrowed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.  His fingers drummed on the chair arm. “Why?  If they hadn’t come back, I think you know as well as I do how that battle would have gone.  Not in our favour.”

Esra leaned forward, his hands pressed on the top of the conference table.  His gaze burrowed into Simon.  “I’m aware.  Trust me, I’m very much aware.”

The lot of them had been prepared to die in order to give the yacht full of their childer time to get beyond the reach of the Inquisition.  Esra peered around the table at the other faces gathered there.  Most were like him, the upper echelons of the once anarchists of Cascade City.  

J spat out the stir stick he’d been chewing on and shook his head.  “Think I’m with Simon on this one, Esra.  You put a crown on the kid’s head for one. Prince in name if nothing else.”

Marcel exhaled a loud breath and waved a hand dismissively in the air.  “Most kings are kings in name only.  That hardly has significance.”

“Even so,” Andre narrowed his eyes at Marcel then flicked his attention to Esra.  “Simon’s the Prince in truth. I’ll abide by whatever his final decision is, but I believe they shouldn’t stand for punishment for returning like they did.”

“They disobeyed direct orders.”  Esra bit out. “Letting them off scot-free is not going to teach them a damn thing.”

“Neither is sending them back out across the sea chasing after a ghost.”  Simon pointed out.  “My question remains unanswered.  Why, Esra?”

“He thinks out there will be safer for them than staying here.”  Valentino’s voice was eerily calm.  The Prince of Cascade City leaned forward in his high-backed leather chair and smiled at his group of advisors.  “Simon, as my regent, your word is law, but trust me when I tell you that Masozi’s visions are rarely wrong.  They need to end up out there.  Where the elders go to die.”

“Where is Masozi?”  Andre chimed in curiously, a single eyebrow arching upward.

“Better question, where’s the fucking yacht?”  J snorted out a breath and slammed a boot up on the conference table.  He picked his teeth with the chewed stir stick, gaze snapping between people.

“I know I saw Nathaniel doing things he couldn’t.”  Marcel frowned, gaze straying as he considered the battle in the parking lot.  Andre, J, and Esra all hummed out agreements.  

“Same with Sebastien.”

“And Aamir.” J added.

“Rafael as well.” Andre said.  “Like wraiths in the shadows.  So much blood.”

J grinned widely.  “Was a delight.  None of us went home hungry, did we?”

Esra thumped a hand against the table, ending the idle chattering.  “I think we’ve reached a decision then.  No punishment, but they still must make the journey to the Cradle.”

At Esra’s sharp look, Simon nodded.  “Agreed.  Masozi’s vision must be heeded.  Tell them our decision, Esra.”  Simon paused for a moment.  “Marcel?  I want you and J to locate the yacht.  Find out where they left it.  It did cost me a pretty penny to have it built, so if it could be returned, I’d appreciate it.”

The two vampires nodded and rose from the chairs.  J slapped Marcel on the back on the way out of the conference room, already making suggestions on just how they might locate the missing vessel.  Simon’s gaze came back to land on Andre, a faint smile given to the man.  He sighed and forced himself to return the pleasantry.

“You want me to keep tracking the anomaly.”  Andre hazarded a guess.

Simon nodded.  “Yes, report on anything of note.  A methuselah unearthing here isn’t going to bring messages of joy and redemption for our kind or the humans.”

Esra and Andre gathered their things, bowing to the pair left sitting at the conference table.  They disappeared into the night to attend to their tasks.  Valentino reached out to cover Simon’s hand with his own, the smile spreading over his lips slippery looking enough it nearly made Simon’s skin crawl.  

“Remember they aren’t to know the truth of my whereabouts, Simon.  Not a word.  Come by my place later tonight.”  The invitation in Valentino’s voice was evident and he didn’t mean cocktails.

“Of course, my Prince.”  Simon rose and bowed to Valentino, then strode from the conference room himself.  How he hated being the last one alone with the Prince.  A fate he wasn’t about to easily escape in the coming months.

#ffxiv write 2023 #prompt 26 #writers on tumblr #vtm #vampire the masquerade #The Elder Council

[my-lovely-writing]

"So what if I eat too many nachos?" Hero demanded, prohibited cheese dribbling down the corner of their mouth. "It's none of your business!"

"First of all, I'm your husband, so it is my business," Villain said. "Second of all, the more unhealthy you are, the harder it is for me to let you win."

#prompt 26 #writing #writing prompt #prompt #hero #villain #hero x villain #marriage #nachos #health #funny #humor

[cadrenebula]

Prompt #26: Last

"Come onnnnn, Arry! I heard rumors that there was going to be a merchant pass through here soon! They're supposed to sell silks in par with what we can find back home!" The female voice was definitely adult and seemed to dance with an airy mischief.

Aryn couldn't have bolt any faster to get ready at those words from his sibling. While his main skills might have been with delicate metal work, he sure as hells wouldn't pass up fine silk. Ely would gladly help him make whatever silk he bought into something gorgeous. Just like he'd do whatever fine metal work she needed for clothes or jewelry.

Though Ely was probably dragging him along to partly be her impulse control on the spending. Plus they hadn't spent much time together lately. He did miss time with his sister. But if she even told him he needed exercise, he was going to box her ears. He got plenty of exercise. Not all of it the way she expected though.

Together they went off to see if they could find this merchant before any of those Ul'dahan nobles snapped up the last of the material. Aryn was already plotting what he'd ask Ely for help making with the silk. He just hadn't been expecting for this trip to take the turn it did. All he'd wanted was some soft silk for fabulous clothes.

Instead he got a run in with his parents.

He loved his parents. He really did. They were wonderfully loving his whole childhood. Mother had taught him well with the Sage arts she had learned in Old Sharlayan in her youth. He'd never wanted for anything growing up. Well besides more children his own age to spend time with. So it was easy to smile warmly at him.

But his sister... There was no way she'd miss the uneasy under currents to his mood. Those small twinges of sadness and hurt. The last time he'd actually gotten to see his parents in person was the day he'd left for the Blue Moon Troupe. They had let him go without any yelling or demanding. It had been a more quiet disappointment as they did try to calmly talk him out of the idea at first. Even if they let him live his life the way he wanted, he knew they'd been disappointed in his choice.

"Mother. Father. It's so wonderful to see you again." Still he greeted them with warmth and happiness. Ely just smiled prettily at them from where she draped herself over his shoulders. Oh no... He recognized that look on her face. The Aggressive Kindness tactic...

"Hi! You must be Arry's birth family! It's so nice to meet you finally, Arry's told me sooooo much about you!" The Exclamation Marks were practically audible.

Aryn resisted the urge to groan and roll his eyes as he side eyed his sister. Affectionately. He would get even with her later for this. Something very mild revenge wise though. Only because he knew she meant well and couldn't have missed his emotions. Oh the fun of having an empath for a sibling. "Ely... These are my parents, Ellen and Leeja."

"Oh! But this is the first time you're seeing Arry since the last time he left your caravan, right?"

Aryn tried to gently elbow her for her aggressive kindness. He'd noticed the slight confusion on his parents faces before mother offered an awkward smile at them. Even if he hadn't seen his parents in years, he'd kept in touch with letters via the moogles.

She catches the elbow and pats it gently, maintaining Eye Contact with one of his parents. "I'm Ely! And I don't suppose you know anything about me at all. My family group fostered Arry when he joined the Troupe."

His parents invited them back to the caravan for drinks. Of course he could tell his parents were unsure how to handle the aggressive kindness Ely was putting on display. But Aryn is her brother and she will fight the Gods and Behemoths if she has to for him. Hopefully the four of them would survive drinks and a small talk though without any arguments. Or more quiet disappointment. He really hated the quiet disappointment rather than the verbal. Hopefully this wouldn't be the last time talking with his parents.

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #Prompt 26 #Prompt Last #About Aryn #Aryn and Ely #Troupe Siblings #Dancing Under the Blue Moon

[chocoblep]

#26: Change in Plans

He kept reminding himself that this was necessary. Though he’d had a will drawn up already, it needed to be revised. Taking a deep breath, M’rath stepped into the office of the official in Gridania who was in charge of the document’s safekeeping. He was also one who specialized in such things.

“Ah, Master Highvale,” said the Elezen, standing from behind his desk to approach and hold out his hand. Rath shook it, tail swishing slowly as he put a smile on his face.

“Master Perrier,” he replied, and the pair seated themselves on opposite sides of the desk. “I thank you for meeting with me today.”

“Truly, it is my pleasure,” the man said, going through the motions. Though it wasn’t exactly a lie, it was not said for the same reasons that might have been present in someone who liked him particularly well. He respected the man’s honesty, which was why he was still his client. “You wished to make some changes to your will, yes?” He asked.

“Yes. Specifically, I want to add two people to it, and I want to make a specific provision that no changes are to be made to it after my death for any reason.” Rath drummed his clawed fingers against the armrest of the plush chair he perched upon, and the Elezen nodded.

“Go on.”

“Two next of kin, though they are not related to me,” he continued, and then took a deep breath. “The first is Daephrin Astramente. He is to receive a sizeable amount equal to one-fifth of my holdings. The second is Jaxon Tavard, to be left with the same amount as Daephrin. Of what remains, my estate and the remainder of my holdings will go to Illian Runetide, on the condition that he keeps my staff employed. If he decides to dissolve the estate at any time, he has agreed to pay out two thirds of his inheritance equally divided among the staff.”

When Master Perrier had finished his notations, he leaned forward and smiled. “So still no children?”

“I would be an unfit father,” M’rath said, shaking his head. “The best I can do is give what I can to those I care for.”

“You know that it is often the very same people who say such things who are the best caregivers,” the Elezen said softly.

“I am the not-so-often situation,” M’rath said with an entirely too predatory smile as he stood. The Elezen seemed to understand, then, what M’rath did not say out loud.

He was simply too dangerous to trust with a child’s life.

“I will have this drawn up and sent to you for review within the sennight,” he said, standing once more to extend his hand for a shake. Rath took it again, squeezing, and then let go. “Thank you, Master Perrier. A good evening to you.”

As he walked the short distance to the Aethernet shard, M’rath smiled. He’d not told either Daephrin or Jaxon that he was leaving them anything; he knew they would both likely protest. Still, it felt good to finally get things in motion. And it was necessary, because taking care of his people was the thing first and foremost in his thoughts.

(( @tavard-ffxiv and @starsworn for mentions!))

#FFxivWrite2023 #FFxivWrite #Story #M'rath Tia #Prompt 26 #Last

[midcinmancave]

Story Prompt:  "Honestly, why would I care?"

Summary:  It’s the dawning of a new day for Leo. Complete Story Source

Fictober Submission #20 Fandom:  Midnight Cinderella Featuring:  Leo Crawford, The Princess Warnings:  None Rating/Genre:  General Audience, Romance Writer:  Leo Crawford

#Fictober23 #Midnight Cinderella #fanfiction #26 #Leo Crawford #MidCin #Kingdom of Wysteria #KOW Writer Project #イケメン王宮 #Prompt 26

[kay-elle-cee]

Jilytober prompt 26: Baking together/with friends

Thank you for the prompts, @jilytoberfest!

It's been a perfectly lovely summer morning—as perfect as it can be—in the cottage in Godric's Hollow. The low melody of a record carries into the kitchen from the next room while Lily and James busy themselves between baking a cake and cleaning as they go. The windows were thrown open, allowing the summer breeze to fill the stale house with new life. A happy, babbling Harry sits in a high-chair not too far away, intently picking up and examining his peas before throwing most of them on the ground for the cat.

The melody changes as one song melds into another and Lily is frozen in her stance, staring at the cake beneath her hands.

"It's too big," she mutters, barely more than a whisper. "The cake is too big." The realization hits again and the tube of frosting falls from her hands onto the counter as the breath catches in her throat. James' head turns from where he stands across the kitchen at the sink, confused by the sudden change in his wife's demeanor.

"Lil?"

"God, this isn't how it's supposed to be." She runs a hand through her hair, a habit she picked up from him, and feels the tears pricking the back of her eyes as she continues to stare down at the cake, her breathing shallow.

"Hey hey hey," James softly calls as he crosses the space to her, gently pulling her into his chest and circling his arms around her. Knowing what's weighing on her mind, he doesn't have the words to make things better. Instead, he just holds her, stroking comforting circles on her back as the sobs tumble forward.

"It's his first birthday, James," she chokes out, and he tightens his hold on her, placing a teary kiss of his own to the crown of her head. "We should be celebrating it with our friends, our family. We thought it'd be over by now."

"I know, love." He squeezes his eyes tight and angles them ever-so-slightly so that their tears were hidden from the young boy, turning one-year-old in one day's time.

They were determined to make his day about celebration, because there was so much to celebrate, even if the war was ongoing, even if their infant son was still in danger. But the endless void of isolation was a constant reminder of all it was costing them.

Once thought of as something to look forward to on the other side of hiding, Harry's birthday was not shaping up to be what his parents had wanted for him. There would be no celebrating Harry's safety with their closest friends—not with tensions high amongst the Order as rumors of a spy grew more and more credible; not with Dorcas murdered just weeks ago; not with their son still living with a target on his back.

"I know it's not what we hoped for, but he won't remember," James whispers, smoothing out his wife's hair. He pulls back and tilts her chin up, looking into her sorrowful eyes, and his heart aches. "We'll do it big next year, I promise you that."

Other Jilytober drabbles here.

#kelsey writes #jily #jilytober #jilytober2022 #drabbles #ficlets #31 prompts #prompt 26

[tricksterfiction]

Prompt #26 Last

Last night I saw us

In mirrors of memory

I kiss the glassy pane

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv #writing prompt #prompt 26 #last #i finally broke down and did it #a haiku

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Tickle in the Throat

@sicktember 2022 Prompt #26

Fandom/OCs: NEW Priest ‘Verse OCs. 

Title: Would It Be A Sin

Words: 1591

Inspiration: this ask requesting a sick priest 

Author’s comments: Set in a small town in the American Bible Belt. To say I’m smitten with Flora and Father Luc is a vast understatement. I adored every second of writing this and found it easier to get into their heads than most. I think Flora may end up being my first snz kinkster, but we shall see. Also, I effing love the ending to this one, I won’t lie, and I can assure you a follow-up story is on the docket. I hope you enjoy this pair as much as I do. 

Flora carefully fixed her hair and adjusted her dress before stepping into the cool, quiet church for confession. Though Father Luc couldn't see her today, God could, and really it was the principle of the thing. Best to look your best before confessing what a depraved sinner you are. 

When her turn came, she stepped lightly into the confessional, taking the proper, subservient position before she spoke. 

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," she murmured as she had been taught. "My last confession was three months ago." From there she began to recite the litany of her sins from the past summer. However, she had hardly begun when she heard Father Luc softly clear his throat, evidently trying not to be overheard. Her ears were sharper than most, however. She continued on without comment. He did it again only a few moments later, shifting slightly so that the bench creaked beneath him. When it happened a third time, she sensed the desperation behind the action and paused.

"If you need to cough, Father, it's all right. I won't be offended, and I'm sure the Lord understands." She tried and failed to keep the smile out of her voice.

After a moment of silence, the priest did indeed erupt into a hoarse, barking coughing fit. 

"Excuse me," he rasped as soon as he could speak. "It seems I have a tickle in my throat today. Go on, my child."

Flora did as she was instructed, though she did have to pause and give him permission to cough once more, and that fit was even harsher than the previous. 

When she had finished her confession, Father Luc began to instruct her in his peaceful way. He noted that since many of her sins seemed to center on unkind thoughts and actions to others, for penance she was asked to read select stories from the Gospel of Luke focusing on compassion, and to pray blessings over a particular coworker with whom she struggled to co-exist peacefully, in addition to the usual Our Fathers. 

She listened well, and vowed to complete her penance faithfully. However, her attention was split, for Father Luc's hoarse, weak voice, more than hinting at a painfully sore throat, was a distraction. Her heart went out to him, having to hear confession in his current condition, and she made up her mind at once to do something for him.  By the end of her time in the booth, she knew just the thing, and she would have just enough time to see to it before confession hours were over. 

~~~

By the time confession hours ended, Flora had left and returned, and now sat waiting in her car in the church parking lot, her Jetta parked beside Father Luc's Sierra. She watched the leaves scudding around in the stiff, autumn breeze and wondered how long she should wait for the priest. Would he be likely to come out right away, or would he go work in his office afterward? If the latter, then this was a wasted trip, unless she went inside to find him. To her delight though, he stepped out of the church's back door less than fifteen minutes after confession ended. She hopped out of her car and stood waiting for him between their vehicles.

Father Luc was objectively, strikingly handsome, and less than four years older than herself. He was fresh out of the seminary, and she was fresh out of nursing school. Flora knew he and she would be a perfect match, with the priestly vow of celibacy as the only obstacle. Elderly Father Gregory, the previous priest, may have saved her soul, but Father Luc had won her heart, ever since the first time she saw him smile. Sin or not, she wanted him as her own, and she was determined to have him.

Today, however, it was obvious he wasn't well, and was not in the mood for smiles. He was pale and shaky, and was shivering just from the short walk to his car, though this early autumn weather was more windy than bitter. He coughed into his fist as he walked, pressing the other broad palm to his chest and shaking his head with a wince. She made a sympathetic face in response, though he wasn't looking.

In fact, he didn't see her until he was almost upon her, and he jumped when he noticed her at last, but she waved a hand in merry greeting to show she meant no harm. His face relaxed into an approximation of a smile, though the usual light in his eyes was absent. 

"Hello, Flora. What can I do for you this evening?"

"I actually came to ask you the same thing, Father. I heard you were under the weather today." Heard him coughing and sniffling with her own ears not an hour ago, more accurately. She was sure he knew she'd been in the confession booth today, but neither would ever mention that of course. 

He made a face. "Unfortunately true. It seems I've caught myself a lovely fall cold."

"Perhaps more than a cold. You're looking feverish to me."

"Am I? Well you would know best, of course. I feel rotten enough for it, if I'm being honest."

"May I?" She held out her hand to his face, close but not touching.

He hesitated, then nodded, his face inscrutable.

Flora pressed her palm to his sweaty forehead, probably too eagerly, and he leaned into the touch ever so slightly, giving her a thrill. They carefully avoided one another’s gaze. She pulled the hand away after an appropriate amount of time, though with no small amount of regret. 

"You're running a fever, Father. You should be home in bed."

"I'm headed there right now," he said with a miserable shudder. 

‘If only I was joining you so I could keep you warm,’ she thought to herself. She forced her mouth to say something different, however: "Is there anything I can do for you before you go? You have the medicine you need? I hate the thought of you going home to a cold, empty house."

"I have medicine, and I'll be sure to take plenty of it before I sleep. I'll be alright. Thank you, though, for your kindness. It isn't taken lightly." He expertly danced around any further mentions of his empty house and bed, and she followed his lead for the time being. 

"Well at least take this before you go." She opened the door to her backseat and pulled out a warm canvas bag, handing it over to him. "Chicken soup, corn bread, fried okra and a jar of blackberry jam. This weather already had me in the mood for comfort food, so I'd gotten all this going for supper first thing this morning. I believe you're the perfect person to share it with, as you're certainly in need of some good comfort food tonight yourself."

His eyes lit up as he took the bag, and she was sure she heard his stomach growl hungrily. He grinned at her now, the usual warmth in his gaze. 

"I hope you know you're my hero tonight, Flora. This is exactly what I needed. How can I ever repay you?"

‘I could think of a few ways,’ she thought wickedly. Instead she said: "As long as it helps you feel better, that's all I care about. It was no trouble at all. My fee is this though: you must promise to call me if there's anything else you need. You mustn't be a martyr and suffer all alone in silence. After all, you do so much for the congregation. This is the least I could do, to make sure you're looked after as well."

She thought he reddened slightly, and he pulled his eyes from hers to look at the food, though he continued to smile. "Thanks isn't enough for such a wonderful gift, but I offer it many times over anyway. And I agree to the rest of your fee as well. I will let you know if there's anything else I need, I promise."

"Good, then I'm satisfied." She almost threw all caution to the wind and reached out to touch his face again. They're would be no convenient excuse for it this time, though. No reason to explain away such forward behavior. Yet the desire was so strong that her hand twitched at her side. She forced herself to keep speaking instead. "I'd better let you go home, though, while the food is still hot. I don't want to keep you standing out in the cold."

He gave her a grateful look. "I'll eat it as soon as I'm there. Thank you again, so much. I'm sure we'll speak again soon, and hopefully I'll be better company."

"All the best to you, Father. Take care."

"Same to you, Flora. Be well." 

They both got in their vehicles and started them. Father Luc drove off immediately, while Flora pretended to dig in her purse. She watched him go wistfully, hungrily. She wanted him badly. There had not been a man yet that had evaded her once she set her sights on him, and this beautiful priest would be no different. It would simply take time. The next step in her plan was obvious, though. With a fever like that, he was going to get worse before he got better, and he would almost certainly be home alone and sick tomorrow. She would make sure she found a way to keep him company.

#sicktember 2022 #prompt 26 #priest 'verse OCs #everyone is hotter with a fever #sickfic #cw priest

[toad-in-a-trenchcoat]

I saw the prompt. I had to do Betty. There was no other option

#Cat betty #lord betrayus #pmatga #inktober2022 #prompt 26 #ego

[multifandom-disaster]

Prompt #26

If the person you hate were to love you, why would you hate them? Why would they love you?

#prompt #writing prompts #otp prompts #writing #dialogue prompt #otp dialogue #writing ideas #writeblr #prompt 26

[lire-casander]

#26 making a mental list of everything that happened over the day that they want to share with them

making a mental list of everything that happened over the day that they want to share with them original prompt list here

Tommy catches TK staring into space after one of the most amusing calls they've had in weeks — a woman who had been playing with her sex toys and one of them had gotten stuck with the on button pressed. The woman hadn't been in real danger, after all, and now that it's over Tommy expected TK to be commenting on the situation with Nancy. Instead, he's absent-mindedly placing the supplies they haven't used back to their places.

"Are you okay?" she asks. TK flinches, as though he hasn't been expecting her. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm fine," he finally replies with a smile. "I was distracted."

"How so?" Tommy arches an eyebrow at him. "I thought you'd be with Nancy." She gestures towards where the other paramedic was talking to Mateo and Marjan, since Fire had also been called.

"I was updating my mental list," he confesses. Tommy can see him blushing a little.

"Your mental list?"

"I, uh, I make a mental list of things I need to tell Carlos when I come back home," TK says in a low voice, barely above a whisper. "I know it's silly."

"No, it's not silly," Tommy tells him. "It's so cute. It reminds me of me and Charles, to be honest. Can I ask about those things already on your list?"

TK’s face lights up, and he sets the packet of gauze he was holding aside to face her. When he starts listing things — how he's been able to drive the ambulance for the first call, the color of the walls in an old lady's house, the British accent of one of their patients. Those are things that Tommy knows that will make Carlos smile as well, and she came to help but wonder if the police officer does the same as his fiancé.

When they cross paths with Carlos during another call, she can see TK listening intently to whatever Carlos is saying. She shakes her head and laughs to herself, caught up in her own memories.

Definitely like she had been with Charles.

Tommy finishes organizing the back of the ambulance as she thinks maybe she is due for a long conversation with her girls.

#lire's 40 to the 40s #prompt 26 #prompt 26: making a mental list of everything that happened over the day that they want to share with them #tarlos #tk strand/carlos reyes #carlos reyes/tk strand #911ls #911 lone star #911 ls #tommy vega

[idanwyn-et-al]

(XIV||22-26): Break a Leg.

(Continued from here.) (♪)

The Temple Knights stationed on today’s guard duty inspected the newly-arrived wagon, their duties not sufficient motivation to restrain themselves from jeering at the heretic within.

“Stripped of yer stolen armor, are ya, Ser Bale?” one sneered, giving the Inquisitor a respectful nod.

“I didn’t steal it,” she replied quietly. “I earned it when I was knighted. Same as you.”

“Uh huh,” said the other, finishing his inspection and giving the driver the go-ahead. “Too bad they won’t let you wear it at Witchdrop; it’s said to give you a bounce or two after they, ‘wshht’!” He shoved her shoulder as he whistled, an onomatopoeia for pushing her into thin air. The pair snickered to each other as the Gates opened wide, the wagon rolling along the Steps of Faith towards Foundation.

Surprisingly, the words didn’t bother her much. She knew that the whole Order was still stinging from the reprimand they’d received; she’d walked among their number undetected for days, and the Inquisition was not happy about that. Another sin; to deceive those who were ordained comrades-in-arms. Of all the sins she’d committed, that one weighed second-heaviest.

---Previously, in Fallgourd Float:---

Morning banished the troubled cobwebs of dreams from the corners of Anne-Sophie’s mind. Though she had originally intended to return to the Gyshal’s Greens today, her extended flight had her saddlesore. Vendredi, too, was in need of a day’s reprieve. Figuring that one day’s recess in her second-favorite place in the Black Shroud would not hinder them much, she went through her morning sword forms, sans aetheric augmentation, bathed, and dressed. She was down to one clean set of clothing and armor, so she spent the rest of the morning laundering and oiling the other sets, hanging everything to dry in her rented room.

She took her late lunch out to the patio, enjoying the brisk air and faltering golden light of summer’s end in the Shroud. Though the sandwich was quite good---pulled, smoked wild boar meat with a sharp-sweet cheddar cheese and mead-poached pixie apples---she was only dimly aware of its delectability, lost as she was in the book she chose for her mealtime company. Faerie tales had arguably played a large part in her current unfavorable circumstances, but they remained a favored genre; this one, from Sharlayan, told the tale of a ghostly cactuar from the moon who’d befriended a sentient pile of leaves called the Green Gleaner.

Rae-Hann wandered across the bridge with a stare focused at the boards underfoot, eyes darting back and forth. Only when he nearly bumps into the first table on the deck of the Bobbing Cork does he look up. "Have you seen--" He paused, actually taking in the Hyur's appearance as he canted his head to the side. "Oh, you're that person on the poster."

Anne-Sophie stopped mid-bite, slowly turning her gaze from the book to the person near the table. "Mmrgh?" she murmured through a mouthful of food, then held up her right index finger in the hopefully-universal gesture of 'one moment'. Finishing her bite, she dabbed at her lips with a crumpled napkin, then tried again. "Hmm? I'm sorry, are you talking to me? I was so lost in my book that I confess I'm not entirely certain what you said."

The Miqo’te waited patiently, though he did take that opportunity to look under the table. Just in case whatever he was after may have been hidden away. However, at the other's questions, he nodded. "Yes, you. Normally I don't remember faces too well, but I did just come from Gridania. It mentioned something about heretics. Don't hear much about that sort of thing outside of Ishgard, so it stuck in the mind a bit better, I suppose."

She followed his gaze automatically, lifting her feet a few ilms as if she might be standing on...whatever it was he sought. Well-worn bootsoles fell to the wooden decking in short order as his words registered. "H-heretics? A poster? My, that sounds quite dangerous." Reaching up to pat her hair, a wide-eyed expression of dread crossed her face for a moment. "I forgot to wash it black again," she murmured, likely intending to do so for her ears alone, but his hearing was sharper than hers. "U-um. Can you tell me more about this heretic? I am travelling through, you see, and I would like to be on guard." Clearing her throat once, she turned her face back to the table, hoping the ginger-red curtain would better obscure her features.

"Possibly. I've heard of supposedly dangerous heretics in the past, but the few I've met have always turned out quite less so. I'm going to sit. Do you mind?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead lazily sliding over to the nearest empty stool. With a hum, the miqo'te propped his chin in one hand, considering her across the table. "If it helps, though, she's apparently rather reckless mage, of similar appearance to yourself. Couldn't be bothered to memorize the exact details beyond what the image showed, however." He pointed to her as if suddenly remembering something. "Ah, right. Has some sort of...shape-shifting sword. That was an interesting bit. I've never seen something quite like that before. Can you imagine?"

"Sh-shapeshifting? That does not sound heretical in and of itself. Recklessness, however...no, the Holy See would never allow recklessness among its aetherically-adept. Interesting. I shall have to ask...err, that is, I shall have to keep my eyes open. It should not prove too troublesome to find another that looks strikingly similar to myself on the road, should it? After all, some philosophers posit that we are all but shattered pieces of greater souls, and that would lend itself neatly to, um. To us having lookalikes," she finished rambling weakly, wincing. Anne-Sophie took a sip of her mead, and found herself unable to meet her fellow traveller's eyes; her own seemed to look anywhere but somewhere they might risk making contact with his.

"Maybe said recklessness is why this person is considered a heretic? I wouldn't know either way, of course. Ishgardian policy is hardly among my purview, though you seem to at least know a bit more than I." However vaguely amused he might be by her growing anxiety, the shift into talk about souls was sobering enough. He frowned. "Ah. Yes, I've heard those theories that we are but shards of something greater. Though, generally those shards should never meet, from mine own estimations. You believe they may look the same, though? Two pieces of a single soul? Even if they didn't, I wonder if they would still recognize one another in some fashion or another."

The Mystic Knight nodded, some of the tension she carried loosing itself from her shoulders. "Y-yes, well, Ishgard is known for pursuing its heretics, is it not? Common knowledge, surely!" Surely. "As to your question, I have wondered the same, myself! I am a wanderer of sorts, and have encountered many things on my journeys that some would labor to believe." She met his eyes as she eased into the topic, a cautious smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "What do you think? Have you ever met someone that might lend proof to that theory?"

"Mhm. If you say so." Though, talk of soulwork did let him put any further questioning to the wayside, at least for the moment. Rae glanced upward, drumming the fingers of his free hand along the table. "I feel people haven't really lived until they've had at least one such unbelievable story under their belts. Anyroad...I imagine souls are separated in such a way that they do not mix. Say you've two boxes. A shard from one cannot interact with one from the other. Unless there's an accident, of course. I've perhaps met a couple people who found themselves in the wrong box, so to say."

"Truly? And how were you able to recognize them for what they were?" Leaning forward, her gaze sharpened with interest; the absentminded professor in her element of learning.

"Well, they told me, of course. Amazing the things people will say when you listen long enough. Usually they can't help but talk about their homelands, for one. Simple enough to figure things out from there when those 'boxes' are so vastly different." He shrugged at that. "Have you an interest in such fields of study?"

"Yet they all knew they were born of one soul? I-I'm sorry, I do have an interest in that topic, among many others. I'm like a chocobo with a gyshal basket when it comes to aetheric theory." She laughed melodiously. "I haven't even asked your name, nor what brings you to the Cork."

"One knew, very fervently. She is how I learned that those separate spaces are in fact parts of one and the same, though at times I still struggle to believe it true." At which the miqo'te went quiet, lost in thought, though he was soon snapped out of it by the sound of laughter. He considered this for a very long moment before he shrugged. Well, since they were already talking about it. It would either make sense or make him sound half mad, and either suited him fine. "Rae-Hann. I lost a little glass lamp around here not too long ago, and I was trying to find it. Fae goods are not exactly easy to replace around here."

Ser Bale initially misheard his name. "R'hahn?" she confirmed, putting the Seeker emphasis on the moniker. "I wasn't aware that Seekers frequented this little corner of the Shroud! And looking for Sylphic goods, too?" Drumming her right fingertips on the tabletop next to her mostly-empty plate, she mused further, "And with a friend who could confirm this theory...quite an interesting fellow you are!"

"Just 'Rae' is fine." Curious, he pointed to his eyes. "Most people call me a Keeper, but I'll admit I've never really understood the difference." Still, he shook his head, not lingering on the issue. "I don't know if I could call the person in question a 'friend', though. In fact, I think she died? It was all rather complicated. Maybe her two halves became one in the end. Either way, I do enjoy seeking out such oddities. There's always something new to learn in aetherology when one finds them."

"Oh!" Reflexively, she made the Sign of the Spear, thumping her right fist to her circlet, then her chest. "My apologies, Rae. Mostly that I was speaking so callously about someone, um...departed?" Is that what happened? If he doesn't know, she doesn't, either. "And for mistaking your lineage, as well. Felix would never let me hear the end of such a mistake! Then again, that's why he's House Bale's heir, and I but a lowly mystic knight." She laughed again, and then, slowly, the color drained from her face.

Rae-Hann blinked owlishly, not entirely sure what she's talking about at first. Maybe if he'd bothered learning more about Miqo'te himself. Still, it doesn't really matter in the end as the lady herself seemed to walk right into a figurative wall. Very carefully, he laced his fingers together on the table, letting her words sink into the silence. "Well, I did mention it was amazing what people would say if one listened long enough. So, out of curiosity, does the lowly mystic knight have a preferred name or would Ser Bale suffice?"

Anne-Sophie’s cheeks went from dry-sand tan to blood-red in an instant. To her chagrined surprise, tears sprang to her eyes; she squeezed the lids shut, and tightened her fingers around the edges of her weathered tabard. "Fury strike me for a twice-over fool!" she exclaimed, or tried to; her voice was thick with unshed tears. "Anne-Sophie will suffice. Are you seeking the bounty, then?"

Rae-Hann actually smiled at that, either not aware that the gesture isn't always exactly comforting when coming from a Keeper (or what appears to be one). "Ah, no. I don't have a use for money, and I find it draws more trouble than anything. I was merely curious what sorts of things you could have possibly done to ruffle so many feathers in Ishgard. I'd thought they were more lax in their doctrine of late, but I was telling the truth when I said that I don't know much about the place."

The Midlander took a few moments to steady herself; a few shuddering breaths that resolved their roiling waves into one in, one out. Poor at espionage she might be, but she was still trained as a soldier, capable of wrangling her unruly emotions. As most of the embarrassed flush faded from her face, she took a small sip of mead, then fiddled with the glass on the table. One turn to the left; two to the right. It is unclear what alignment will suit her; perhaps it is unknown to her, too. "Is there anyone else watching us?" she inquired, her voice low.

The ‘Miqo’te’ cast a cursory glance toward the tavern entrance, but there only seemed to be a Wailer by the stairs, looking for all the world that he's half asleep already. "I shouldn't think so," he said after a moment before he looked back at Anne-Sophie. "Unless the trees themselves give you pause, but I don't think they care much for such things."

"Better them than a Wailer," she replied. That decided it for her; her mead glass remains with its handle aimed towards Rae-Hann, and she got to her feet. "I will tell you the truth, but...a few paces within the trees, if you do not mind overmuch." Her other Glass, currently aspected to Fire, floated neatly around the stool as she stood up in order to avoid scraping the seat with its blade. Something easily missed, or perhaps not.

Rae-Hann thought this over for a moment before he, too, got to his feet with a sigh. "All right, but I warn you I'll be very cross if you pull a voidsent out of your ear or try to run me through for my whole two gil." He glanced at the sword, more out of curiosity than anything, though its knack for moving on its own does seem to escape him. Maybe swords were just like that, after all.

"Fury forfend!" she decried the very notion, then belatedly realized he seemed to be joking. "Oh. Well, that is...fair enough, I suppose. I shan't be doing anything of the sort."

The pair wandered out of the eastern gate, passing a few Wailers who were busy keeping overeager wildlife away from the settlement. Anne-Sophie fought back her bizarre soldier’s urge to shout encouragement to the local soldiers; ‘break a leg, lads!’ died unspoken behind her teeth. Such impulses were a sign of mental exhaustion, she knew, and yet she had to press on. She and the mysterious Miqo’te stopped where a large boulder and larger tree partially shielded them from the road, yet encompassed enough open space so as to not feel claustrophobic.

Anne-Sophie regarded the large mushrooms that had partially-consumed the rock formation. "You know...I wonder what sort of fungi these are. Do you know? You said people usually mistake you for a Keeper, but...in sooth, I have only met a handful of Miqo'te in my time, and most of them were....err, nevermind." She was nervous. "A-anyway, I was hoping that meant you had some experience with these woods."

Rae-Hann followed her gaze to the mushrooms with a hum. "I'm not sure, I'm afraid. I'm from across the sea, so I'm not entirely acquainted with the local species as of yet." He paused. "Well, I suppose I live in Shroud -now-, but still. My experience is not exactly vast as of yet. Is this to do with your heresy?"

She sighed and shook her head. "No. Merely idle curiosity is all; my default state. Said curiosity did, however, lead to my heresy, as it so often does." She rested her left elbow on Glass's grip and turned her eyes back to the large fungi. "Perhaps I am just a foolish romantic, after all; enjoying seeing life where there once was only stone." Her right hand drifted to her chest for a moment; below her gambeson lay the tattoo of Amoracchius, the Knight of Voeburt's sword.

"Mm. That is often the way of curiosity. I would fear knowing more about the mushroom would reveal that it has some use, which in turn would lead to someone coming here and stripping the place barren." Though, from what he knew of the Gridanians they would not abide such, but still. It was always a careful balance, wanting to know and the consequences of the knowing.

"You may well be right. The elementals do not take kindly to invaders, but even they were subjugated by Garlemald. But...ah," she murmured in reply. “I can only hope I am not guilty of that sort of crime, too, though said guilt would have been accrued elsewhere.” She shook her head, then squared her shoulders, summoning her courage. "Before I fall too far into indulgent melancholy, R'hahn...would you care to hear a story?"

Rae looked back to Anne-Sophie, not bothering to correct her on his name this time. "I would like to hear one, actually. Do go ahead."

Telling her story twice in as many days; foolish, perhaps, but she felt it necessary. She was emboldened by Baron Rosaire’s response to what she’d told him; she’d add a few more details this time, seeing as ‘R’hahn’ seemed to be a fellow mystic. Anne-Sophie took a deep breath, and wove her tale once more.

((The prompts today and tomorrow include lightly-edited RP bits from a scene @yokasaris​ and I did a little while back. All of Rae-Hann’s dialogue and descriptions were written by them!))

(Continued here!)

#FFxivWrite2022 #my writing #Anne-Sophie Bale #XIV Write 22 Anne-Sophie Story #The Trial of Ser Bale #Rae-Hann #rp snippets #others' writing #yet more long posts save me from myself #even if no one reads these though I like having them on hand for reference #Prompt 26 #Break a Leg #she is so bad at being a fugitive #it's so fun and also frustrating to RP #thanks forever to Rae and Silv's players for humoring me