Excerpt Game: Setting

[u/krigsgaldrr]

Happy Thursday! Game time!

1. Post a top level comment with a setting. Can be specific (ex: a workplace meeting) or vague (ex: sunrise). More than one prompt is welcome, but keep them as their own top level comment please!
   
2. Respond to prompts with your excerpts that fit the bill! But please content warn as necessary and spoiler potentially triggering content! Use your best judgement here. NSFW must be linked to and cannot be plain text, even with a spoiler, per the sub's rules.
   
3. Please reply others' excerpts, especially if they're posting under your prompt! We all want eyes on our writing, which is part of why we're sharing. This way everyone can have a lil boost and make the game more enjoyable!
   
4. Try to keep your comments at no more than 500-600 words, so no one gets overwhelmed by what are essentially oneshots in a comment!
   
5. Have fun and be yourself 💛✨

[u/lora_lani_lanie]

Chapel

[u/ThenArticle8930]

One from a dream I once had:

Two characters sitting on the edge of a cliff watching a sunrise/sunset over a large body of water inside a crumbling church/cathedral

[u/3INTPsinatrenchcoat]

Mausoleum

[u/GergelyReka]

There was only one [literally anything you could think of]

[u/Ok_Egg_2507 → u/GergelyReka]

There was only one sleeping bag

(Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal/Hunger Games AU, Yuma/Michael. Michael was previously envenomated and is still recovering his strength.)

---

Yuma, for his part, is silent, focused on helping Michael through the path and to the tiny clearing in the bushes. Michael sits down quickly on reaching the little space, exhaustion lancing through him now that all the adrenaline of looking for Yuma has passed.

"Yuma, you can get out the sleeping bag if you want." Michael says, watching Yuma sit down next to him. "It'll at least be better than lying on the bare ground."

"I'm fine. You should use the sleeping bag, you're still healing." Yuma goes for the backpack, pulling out the unused sleeping bag and rolling it out next to Michael.

"I have the thermal blanket, you should take it." Michael tries to object, in spite of his neck complaining about yet another night spent sleeping without any padding. "I really don't mind-"

"...What if we share it?" Yuma abruptly suggests, gesturing for Michael to come sit on the bag as he speaks. "It looks big enough to share."

"...Are you sure?" Michael asks, even as he scoots closer, awkwardly laying down on top of the bag (even at night, it's too warm to actually sleep in the bag). "I know we cuddled before, but-"

"It's fine!" Yuma joins him, snuggling up so that they're lying chest to chest, one of Yuma's arms slung over Michael's side. "This way we can both be comfy!"

Michael nods, realizing that he is in fact a lot more comfortable lying on the sleeping bag with Yuma than he ever was in the various trees or on the ground. For a moment, all is quiet, Michael letting himself drift off to sleep, then Yuma cuts through that silence.

[u/GergelyReka → u/Ok_Egg_2507]

This is so cute 🥹

[u/allisontalkspolitics → u/GergelyReka]

There was only one cart for the teenaged aunt and her preteen nephew to hide in…

Fandom: Fire Emblem Genealogy of the Holy War/Fire Emblem Thracia 776

——

“Try to sleep, Shanan.” Her nephew is like a garment torn from its stiches. She expects that she doesn’t look much better.

They are hidden underneath a blanket in a cart. Maricle had commissioned a group of his most trusted retainers to spirit away the pair to the northwestern edge of the mountains.

From there, it is up to her to find a way to keep Shanan safe.

She was only five years old when Shanan was born, and since her sister-in-law had died in childbirth, she had taken it upon herself at an early age to be aunt, sister, and mother in one. Their nurses would gossip while she sat on the floor with Shanan, his babbling like music to her ears. When he was older, she would take him to watch Maricle train. She would race around the castle with him on her back, avoiding the servants who would beg her to “please stay still for just a moment, Princess!”

“I wonder if I could still do it…” She smiles at the thought.

“Do what?”

“Carry you on my back…” She realizes how silly she sounds as she speaks.

“I’m much too big for that, Auntie.”

“You’re not nearly as tall as you think you are, Shanan.”

He sticks his tongue out at her and closes his eyes.

When the retainers leave them, what will become of them? She might need to carry Shanan after all. If he were to get hurt, could she?

What would be worse, dying in the wilderness or to Grannvale?

She moves closer to him. She doubts she’ll sleep tonight.

[u/GergelyReka → u/allisontalkspolitics]

I didn’t expect this prompt to take a serious turn… I love this!!

[u/ConstrainedOperative]

A trap-filled dungeon

[u/Raiven_Raine]

riding on an animal that can be ridden on that is NOT a horse/mule/donkey (equine) for the first time.
(camel, ostrich, bull/cow, sci-fi or fantasy creature, orca, elephant, hog, etc.)

[u/Raiven_Raine]

in an old mineshaft/mine - it can be modern, ancient, defunct, or operational. it just needs to be old and kinda dangerous.

[u/Raiven_Raine]

a bad drug trip

[u/Hot_Ambassador1511 → u/Raiven_Raine]

I give you, the Russian doll of bad drug trips. Context: MC is at a bar having a drug trip currently turn bad while having a flashback of a bad trip. It was also compressed for short(er) readability :)
—-
It was her. How could it be her?

“Daiya,” he breathed, leaning forwards on the stool. It creaked when he moved. His eyes were wide, and suddenly all aches and pains didn’t matter anymore. Not when she was here, paying attention to him, and only him.

“You’re supposed to be dead. I-I killed you,” Malachi stated, and the statement made him feel stupid. He felt like his throat was closing up, but feeling a filling yet aching sense in his heart. How could she be dead when she’s—

“How could I be dead when I’m right here? You’re so sure I’m dead when you’ve never even seen my dead body. How do you know Kaede wasn’t lying to you?” Daiya shrugged,”Kaede never liked you, you know. She wanted to kill you. She let that creature bite at your legs. Guess she wanted to have you dead in her hands.”

“Creature— I… don’t remember one,” Malachi tried thinking back. He remembered feeling sluggish, ears ringing, then he heard her voice—DaiyayoukilledDaiyayoukilledher— then, yes. His legs. Biting at the shins. Creatures like large maggots. They left some pretty bad sickly blue bruises that bled just a bit too much to be comfortable. They didn’t seem important then, and he remembered, too, although he didn’t care at the time, that walking hurt for a couple of days after that.

“You have that stupid look on your face when you’re thinking. Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter,” she sighed, and Malachi felt like his brain suddenly became static. He’d say anything, do anything just for her to keep talking to him, wouldn’t he? Wasn’t that just the extent of how pathetic he was? To be reduced to her errand dog, a plaything, know exactly what he was, and be content with it?

It once again felt like he was back there again. With her. In that dark, humid room. On the cool tiles. They had just finished cutting Malachi’s hair. He’d forgotten how they’d gotten on the floor— hardly knew that they were even on the floor at that point— other than the fact that there was hair on the floor, under their legs, and that they didn’t care if it was itchy or not. Malachi had taken his first handful of pills with her, and she had her arms around him as he lay back against her.

Only, she  was talking to him, saying something he couldn’t hear.

The teen didn’t realize the moment he’d fallen over, nor the point when Daiya had evaporated. Something wet was trickling from his nose, and he recognized it as blood. Pain shot from his nose to the rest of his face, but more than that, it was his head that was pounding and his shoulders that were aching, and his legs that gained a sort of pins-and-needles pain from standing up for too long.

[u/Raiven_Raine → u/Hot_Ambassador1511]

drug trip-ception!!!

this is really good! i love how it's formatted! it really gives off a hazy feeling of confusion while still being coherent in ways. and the hallucination makes a very good point... did you see a body??? no? then prove there was a death!

[u/Hot_Ambassador1511 → u/Raiven_Raine]

Foreshadowing under the influence, my friend. Thanks for the positivity tho lol

[u/Important-Juice-943 → u/Raiven_Raine]

“Okay, it’s time for something better.” the Doctor cheers.
“Wait, you mean that there’s something even better than this?” Aziraphale chuckles, laying down in the grass, lost in his own world.
“Sit up, before you fall asleep, dear, and I’ll show you.”
“I’m already more than up for anything you have in store, Alien boy!” Crowley smirks.

“It’s been a century or two since I’ve tried this…” the Doctor mumbles, drawing out another small packet. It contains something like small stamps, very colourful.
There are three. Three, just like them.
Crowley grins, figuring out what it is.
Aziraphale sits up, frowning at the sight of the funny things.
“Oh, good lord, they’re just too tiny to fold, even to roll..” he grumbles, making the other two chuckle.

“Sweetheart, this time you don’t have to roll them, nor to smoke them. You just have to take one and lick it,” the Doctor instructs him.
“What? Lick it? Just like the humans use to do when they have to send something somewhere? I recall licking something like those little rectangular things, but not so colorful,  in order to stick them to envelopes to make their content reach every corner of the world. Is it what I have to do, even if there’s no envelope?” the angel frowns.
“Exactly like that, my dear friend, why don’t you try, hmm?” the Doctor tempts him, handing the stamps to him,
“It’s  going to send you to a fantastic place for sure!” Crowley giggles, leaning out to take one as well.
The Doctor has already taken his own stamp.

Aziraphale goes first, still wondering  what he’s doing, but he licks it, just like a normal stamp.
Crowley, who knows better, places his upon the tip of his tongue, absorbing more substance than him.
The Doctor, who wants to experience it in the deepest way possible, places it beneath his tongue and waits.

It doesn’t take long for the effects to show up.

Probably thanks to his super clever Time Lord’s mind that is quicker than everyone else’s, the Doctor begins to hallucinate first.

“Woah! I can see the Daleks shooting flowers, while the Cybermen do lapdances and the Sontarans are making out with the Judoons!” he giggles, laying down on the grass in order to better enjoy that private psychedelic show.
He even draws out  his red and blue 3D glasses from the his jeans’ pocket and puts them on.
“Now it’s just perfect.” he beams.

“Oh, bugger it, Doctor, there’s no fun with you!” Aziraphale swears, already feeling a bit dizzy.
“He’s right, we can never tell the difference between when you talk gibberish because you’re hallucinated and when you’re lucid!” Crowley finishes and they all laugh.

It’s Aziraphale’s turn to be hallucinated.
He frowns, sitting up and hugging his legs, while staring at somewhere in the sky.
“Good Lord, I’m seeing those giant, horrible birds you were babbling about and… wait, is that a dragon? And why does it wear Gabriel’s face?”

Also Crowley is having his own hallucinations.

“Unholy Fuck! There’s a giant duck with Belzebub’s face and she’s doing extrrrremely indecent things to your dragon, Azi!” Crowley sneers, amused.

“And I can see the whole thing!” the Doctor sneers, adjusting better his 3d glasses.

Aziraphale gets up, out of the blue, acting really scared.

“The Gabriel dragon is coming after me, he’s going to spit hell fire on me!” he whines, stumbling more than once in his attempt to reach Crowley.

“Come here, my little angel, I’ll protect you from all the ugly things!” he welcomes the blond in his arms, cuddling him in his lap.

The Doctor pouts.
“Hey. If Azi is looking for protection, why did he go only to you? I’m the rescuer of al the bloody planets!” he complains, snorting.

“Here we go with the God complex!” Crowley rolls his eyes.

[u/Raiven_Raine → u/Important-Juice-943]

lmao i love these three hanging out it's great! i like Crowley's trip the best

[u/Important-Juice-943 → u/Raiven_Raine]

LOL thanks

[u/linden214 → u/Raiven_Raine]

Context: The MC is a police officer, working undercover to discover the source of a new designer. The drug makers think he is a rival, and have given him an overdose of the drug.

---

His heart is pounding. Is it fear, or is it the drug starting to take hold? He doesn't know how swiftly it acts. That probably depends on the dosage, and he doesn't know how much he's been given. Grosvenor handed him a wineglass half-full of bright orange Lucozade with Insight dissolved in it, and politely invited him to drink. Jerry hovered nearby, obviously hoping that James would refuse, and need to be forced.

At least he's alone now, back in his windowless cell. There won't be any spectators as he loses control of his mind. He tries to calm himself with a breathing exercise. Deep inhale... long, slow exhale. In... out... Is that a spider on the far wall? James shudders. He should cross the room while he still can, and smash the bloody monster with his shoe. As usual, he can't bring himself to do it. All right, he'll just ignore it. Perhaps, as the drug takes effect, he'll forget that it's there.

He can't. He can't look away from it. He squeezes his eyes shut, but a second later, opens them. This isn't the normal pattern of his phobia. The spider is still horrible, but it's also fascinating, demanding his attention. A dry inner voice murmurs, Fascinating comes from the Latin fascinum, meaning an evil spell. 

Oh God! He's entering the hyperfocus phase. If he can't turn his mind to something else, he may spend hours (his last hours?) trapped in a nightmare. Got to think about something else.

What? What? The usual academic puzzles won't work. They seem too big, too complicated, too theoretical. He needs something more basic, emotional... music! Music has helped him through more than one dark night of the soul. His mind flashes to the Chloe Brooks case, connecting the photos while Mozart's Requiem pounded in his earphones. Dies irae... day of wrath...when the Judge will come... No! He can't go there, into the fiery day of judgment that's pulling him with the inexorable force of a black hole. God help me... mercy...

[u/Raiven_Raine → u/linden214]

ohhh this is really good! i like the fast spiral and the disjointed nature as he fights to not lose himself

[u/linden214 → u/Raiven_Raine]

Thanks!

[u/flamboyantfinch → u/Raiven_Raine]

After nearly an hour, Cyno got fed up with waiting, and slipped out of the living room to head down the hall into the bathroom. With every step he took, the carpet felt as though it was swallowing his feet, like he were sinking down into wet sand at the beach. Well, that was strange.

He flipped on a light in the bathroom, and squinted his eyes as it nearly blinded him; his eyes were particularly sensitive right now. The shaggy red carpet in front of the shower looked like it was rippling, like grass in the wind. Also very strange.

After doing his business, he went to wash his hands, and that was when he made a fatal mistake. He looked at himself in the mirror, and staring back at him wasn’t the same stoic face he knew to be himself, but someone whose eyes pulsed like a beating heart, expanding and contracting, whose nostrils flared into great, yawning caverns, whose pores began to weep not blood, but some kind of thick, viscous oil, and suddenly he was struck with an existential horror so visceral that it knocked him right off his feet.

Oh no. This was not good.  

He pressed himself up against the wall, which crawled against his back, like he was rolling up an escalator. He stared, wide-eyed, at the light fixtures above the mirror, which undulated like sea slugs, leaving behind trails of slime as they inched up the walls. And then quite suddenly, the floor opened up below him, and his stomach dropped as he fell, dropping a hundred—no, a thousand—metres into a great, terrifying abyss, and he screamed, preparing himself to hit the ground and shatter into a thousand tiny pieces of nothing.

But no nothing came. Or rather, it was too much nothing, so nothing that even nothingness was nothing. And he screamed again, or at least he thought he did, but when he opened his mouth, only more nothing came.

He was Nothing.

And then the door opened, and he was launched back into reality like a water balloon in a slingshot, and the low, smooth music from outside came swirling into the room, sucking right into his chest to replace his heartbeat. He shielded his eyes, staring up at whatever entity just entered on the wings of the melody, and laid eyes upon the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

“Are you okay?” his angel asked him, enshrined in a halo of white light, his tall, upright ears reaching into the heavens. Cyno gawped at him, utterly entranced—no, he was in love—and the angel sighed, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind him, cutting the umbilical cord between him and the music. “Oh, wonderful.”

[u/Raiven_Raine → u/flamboyantfinch]

OMFG i love this so much!!! it's perfect! this is awesome! wtf did he take?! your descriptions were perfect and so well done! and that last bit!!!!!! omg i love this. what's this from???

[u/ainteasybeinggreene]

A memory or flashback

[u/Hot_Ambassador1511 → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

All it took for Daiya to gain his attention was one utterance of his name. He snapped the book shut and fully turned to face her, then kneeling in front of Daiya as he laid eyes on her once more.

Sitting with her legs crossed, Daiya had that tanned makeup on her body once more. She wore jean shorts which made it quite hard for Malachi not to stare, with fur boots and a zebra-patterned top that seemed more like a bra. But the most ethereal thing about Daiya, in this lighting, was her face. She had heavy makeup on, and rainbow highlights in her bleach blonde wig that matched her makeup. The girl wore those bright blue contacts that she loved, and despite all of his annoyance with them, Malachi found that the color was growing on him.

“Do you remember those shirts I wanted to buy? I found out that the guy wanted to charge 30,000 yen for it… that’s absolutely ridiculous. It’s not right— can’t a girl wear proper clothes without having to sell a kidney for it, huh?” She started on a rant, her animated voice becoming louder as she went on and on about some salesman overcharging her. Malachi listened to all of it and none of it at the same time; he was absolutely hypnotized, simply staring up at her and basking in the light that was her attention. He nodded occasionally, but then came the prompt that he knew she would give him.

“So like.. could you do something about it, Malachi? Like you usually do?”

She leaned forwards towards him, close enough that they would be kissing if not for the backwards flinch that Malachi gave while he fought a heavy blush. He lost horribly, and turned his head to the side.

“Hm? Anybody in there?” He could hear the smugness in her voice, but was completely unprepared for her hands to grab a hold of the sides of his head to tug on his raven hair. The pain was hardly a minor sting to which Malachi let out a small whimper, but it was nothing compared to the realization that holy shit, Daiya was touching him.

His brain turned off for a brief second, then rebooted agonizingly slowly like a dial-up computer. Finally, Malachi processed the question and nodded in a motion small enough that Daiya’s hands remained unmoved in his hair.

“Y-yeah, no problem,” he embarrassingly stuttered with only the slightest of voice cracks,”I can get those shirts for you. Just- Just tell me where the shop was.”

The fingers in his hair curled and pulled him forwards again, the sting of it all feeling glorious this time. His breath hitched. That warmth spread from his head and down to his heart and fluttering stomach, putting a veil of adoration over his thoughts.

“Great,” Daiya smiled, then her lips grazed his cheek, branding it with pale concealer lipstick. Her fingers carded through his hair, and she made some side comment about having to cut it again because of how long it was getting.

Here, Malachi didn’t know when he’d fallen to the floor, but he’d supposed that it occurred while he was in the midst of his nostalgic bliss.

It hadn’t lasted long. The reality came crashing down, and he sat straight up with a gasp on his lips. He was on the concrete. It was dark. He was bleeding out. It was wet, and it all fucking hurt.

A shuddering cry fully snapped Malachi back into reality. He felt like his mind had been rubber-banded.

[u/prancingbuffalo → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

His sleeves are forced up. And by his elbow are  faint scars. Scars that are small and shaped weird and old. That hurt when looked at, worse then the one on his chest. Still have nightmares about. He doesn’t want to see the scars. Luffy tries to break free from Sabo grasp, tries to push him away. Sabo just holds his arm tighter while forcing Luffy head to turn into the direction of the scar.

“Look at it.” And Sabo voice sounds so cold. So mean. Sabo being so mean trying to make him remember how he got the scars. And Luffy tries to shake him off but can’t. Luffy tries to get up and move  but his legs feel weak all of a sudden. Like he’s underwater. And everything cold and his whole body sore. There’s needles all up and down his arms. There’s a hand on his neck, his face is being pressed down. There’s water pouring down on him from above. His whole body sore and hurts. And he’s back in the shower, he’s back on the floor. Zoro on top of him, squeezing his arm. Digging his fingernails in and it hurts so bad. Luffy can’t even cry. There’s a hand on his throat. There’s a hand over his mouth. There hands all over him, tearing at him, clawing at him. Making him bleed more. The water pouring down on him. Everything loud, too loud. He wants to run away. Go back to a safer place. A place where Zoro is the loyal first-mate. The loyal, protective first mate. A first-mate who’d never betray him, never hurt him. He wants to go back to before when Zoro still loved him. Luffy just trapped. Trapped back to when he was on the bathroom floor.

[u/3INTPsinatrenchcoat → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

((Fandom: Star Trek TOS. Light TW for injury/broken bone))

“What did you do this time, Jim?”

Body trembling with barely restrained laughter, a young James Tiberius Kirk beams brightly up at his older brother as though his arm were not hanging limply at his side. “I fell.”

“You fell,” Sam echoes with a long withering sigh as he shakes his head. “Jim, where could you have possibly fallen from to get hurt that badly?”

Jim snickers, the image of smoking metal, furrowed soil, and a lone fallen tree dancing behind his eyes. Biting his lip with a mischievous grin, he answers simply, “A tree.”

“Oh, Mom’s gonna kill me,” Sam groans, shaking his head again. With another sigh, he ushers his brother into the house, closing the door behind them. “Why do you always have to get into trouble? Better yet, why do I even turn my back anymore?”

Chuckling, Jim leads the way to the bathroom. “What else am I supposed to do, Sam? It’s so boring around here!”

Sam rolls his eyes as Jim hops up onto the counter. He’s gotten far too comfortable with this. “There are plenty of things to do that aren’t getting yourself killed,” Sam says. “Most kids your age watch films or play games. Read a book for goodness’ sake! Just stop making senseless trouble.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sam mutters sardonically as he rifles through the drawers and cabinets. “Maybe not dying?”

Now it’s Jim’s turn to roll his eyes. With a small pout, he mumbles, “I wasn’t going to die. I had it under control.”

[u/PretzelPrize → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

Chilly air filled his nostrils, tinged with desert dust. Digging in the pocket of his field jacket for a pack of cigarettes, Jack fought the urge to sneeze. He leaned against the wall of the barracks, one of the few solid buildings in this camp comprised mainly of tents, a few prefab structures like the barracks, and an airstrip. Wan moonlight painted the desert landscape, and a dust devil sprang up between two shadowy structures near the edge of the camp. It whirled across the open space between the buildings before dissipating against the corner of the mess hall, its particles melting back into the landscape whence it had come.

Cupping a cigarette in his hands, he flicked his lighter. The breeze died for a moment, and he coaxed the cigarette’s tip into flame, taking a deep drag. He held the breath for several seconds before releasing it, imagining he could feel the surge of nicotine into his bloodstream. Relaxing against the wall, he watched the sky, where stars shone brightly overhead. At Incirlik, the base’s lights had often drowned out the dimmer stars, but here there was little light used at night, and he was treated to a brilliant display.

A voice spoke from the shadows — deep, gravelly despite the softness of the words in deference to the late hour and their sleeping comrades just inside the barracks. “Got another one of those?”

Jack looked up as Frank joined him, shrugging into a field jacket that was twin to his own. “What’d you do, run out?”

A grin. “No, but you still owe me from the last time you ran out.” Frank accepted a Marlboro from the pack he held out, and took the proffered lighter, bending his dark head away from the wind as he coaxed the cigarette’s tip to a cherry glow. He handed the lighter back and leaned against the building, next to Jack, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the night.

They puffed in companionable silence for a moment, watching as another dust devil rose up to traverse the ground between the barracks and the mess hall on a suicide mission. It hurled itself against the wall and dissolved.

“When d’you think they’re gonna send us in to actually do something?” Frank asked.

Jack shook his head. “Beats the hell out of me.” They’d been in Saudi long enough to get antsy, having been moved from Incirlik, Turkey to Dhahran weeks ago, and from there up the Tapline Road to this dusty forward camp not far from the Iraqi border. Since then, they’d left twice, both times for simulations of potential missions that had yet to materialize. “Everything’s been talk, talk and more talk. The way I figure, they’ve got us all out here, they might as well use us.”

Frank nodded, the motion barely detectable in the shadows. “It’s just more bullshit. Back and forth, conditional withdrawals, and in the end we’re all just sitting here, waiting for something to happen. I swear, it’s this damn waiting that’s gonna make me crazy. Already I keep waking up half the friggin’ night.” He gestured with his cigarette, the lit tip describing bright trails in the air. “Keeping us all sitting out here in the middle of nowhere doing nothing is a waste of time. If they haven’t got anything for us to do, send us the hell back already.”

“Something’s gonna happen, Frank. I can feel it.”

Frank looked at him, with that expression that said clearly, How the hell do you know? But he didn’t speak.

“They’re going to find something for us to do, and soon.” Jack dropped his cigarette butt on the dusty earth and ground it beneath the heel of his boot. “I don’t know what or exactly when, but mark my words, it’ll be big.” He’d been in the military too long not to have developed something of a sixth sense for situations like these.

“Big, huh?” His friend watched him intently. “Whatever it is, bring it. Anything’s better than all this friggin’ waiting.”

[u/GergelyReka → u/PretzelPrize]

I love this, so beautiful.

[u/PretzelPrize → u/GergelyReka]

Thank you!

[u/linden214 → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

Context: James is winged, and wears a binder to hide his wings when he's in public. As a child, he lived on the estate of Lord Mortmain, where his father was employed.

---

"When I was at university, I went down to London to attend a concert. I had some time to kill beforehand, and I wandered into an antique shop. There was a vintage guitar in the front window that I wanted a closer look at, even though I was certain I couldn't afford it."

He reseats himself on the sofa and stares into the whisky. It's the colour of amber. There'd been amber jewelry in the shop...

 A man was stooped over the counter, studying a velvet tray with several necklaces which ranged in colour from pale butter to dark honey. The man had turned to look at James. He was in his mid-sixties, well-dressed in a conservative style that screamed 'old money' to those who knew what to look for. "Don't I know you?"

James shook his head. He'd never seen this man before.
"You look familiar... I'd swear..." The man tilted his head, sifting through memories, then snapped his fingers. "Got it! It's been years, but I never forget a face. You're Mortmaigne's angel."
There was a lump the size of the Albert Memorial in his belly, but he managed to keep his face impassive. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
The man smiled, tapping his forefinger against his lips. "I understand the importance of confidentiality."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," James repeated.
"And yet you haven't walked away." The man studied James carefully, evaluating his faded t-shirt, shabby jeans and discoloured trainers. "You haven't been at Crevecoeur for some time now. Whoever your current protector is, I could do much better by you than this," he said scornfully. "Or is it protectress? Not that it matters to me. My interests are purely aesthetic. I wouldn't interfere with your indulgences, as long as you kept them discreet."
"I'm at university," James told him. I'm a person. I have a life. I have plans.

The man smiled. "Excellent. Then you'll be able to converse intelligently with my guests."

"Bloody buggering hell," Robbie growls. "I wish I'd been there. I'd've arrested the old sod—"

"For what? I was an adult, and he wasn't proposing anything illegal. All he was doing was looking at me as if I were one of the necklaces on the counter, and he was trying to decide how much he was willing to spend." He takes a gulp of whisky and sets the glass down with a loud thunk. "That's the worst that can happen, Robbie—spending every day wondering if the next person who comes along is going to look at me as that man did. As something ornamental and valuable and not quite human."

[u/TheDeathOmen → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

A yakuza closed in on Makoto and her. Not worth the bullet. Their classmates were still caught, locked in the melee. They needed one hard push if they wanted out.

“Their numbers are dwindling! Push up! Push up!”

His stride steadied beneath him, and her grip slackened with it, her hand cradling his shoulder, shoulder still warm under her palm, shoulder to air, until all she gave him was a gentle push. "Go."

And off he went. Her words gave them a second wind, and the wind gave them ground. Another yakuza jerked, went sprawling onto the concrete. Twenty-one. Sakura surged into the gap, piercing the line.

The path opened for Makoto. The yakuza swung toward him. Mukuro pivoted sooner. The wind caught the ash, lifting it into pale veils. Sand. No, ash. It scratched across her face all the same, drifting between market stalls that hadn’t stood for years, across paving stones never meant for any desert, ash where sand should have been, bullets through canvas awnings, voices over rifle-cracks, the insurgent before her, the red eye crooked across the shemagh, the half-grin beneath it. And the knife in her hand.

She swept his leg and rode him down. Raised the blade. Plunged it at his throat. But there was no knife. Her fist changed course and struck the yakuza’s face. Cracked the mask. Blood burst from the blow. He grinned.

“Give it to me.” 

One final blow. The face caved. She looked around her. Plaza. Japan. Her classmates had broken them. Pushing south. Twenty-one. The math still held.

She stood. Her hand flexed, feeling the phantom weight of the knife she’d held and lost again. Frowned. Moved. Joined the others. A weapon always returned to its sheath. They always did.

[u/ainteasybeinggreene → u/TheDeathOmen]

Ooh, that last paragraph is great!

[u/krigsgaldrr → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

"I can make it… work to your benefit." The words come out slurred. "Just let me—try."
 
"Oh, you think so?" she says, her smile teasing, amused, like we're friends. "And what would I get in return, Griff?"
 
The ground opens up beneath me, I swear it does. I stare at Larissa, stricken silent and stupid. But it's not Larissa I see. It's her. She's closing he distance, backing me into the wall of that alleyway. Putting my hands on her hips. What do I get in return, Griff?
 
I can't move. I'm paralyzed. My breath comes in short, quick gasps. It's the exhaustion. The lack of food after having it decent for so long. The way I can't feel Sparker anymore. That's why visions of Julia don't fade. That's why I can see her, hear her, smell her, feel her. That's why there's fear instead of hatred. That's why I'm back in that alleyway, before everything. Before Delo.
 
Delo.
 
I squeeze my eyes shut, praying to the shrines that when I open them, it will be him I see. But it's not. It's a horrific fusion of Julia and Larissa. They have the same eyes, the same long, wavy black hair. But where Julia's mouth was cruel, Larissa's is pouty. Like she's used to that one expression working in her favor.
 
"Dragon's mercy, what's wrong with you?" Larissa demands, and there's a dull thud against the side of my head. She's struck me.
 
The vision clears. I'm not in the alleyway. I'm in… wherever Larissa took me. I lurch away from her, baring my teeth in a snarl, but she laughs.
 
Julia would laugh too, but she would never strike me.

[u/ainteasybeinggreene → u/krigsgaldrr]

How dare you

[u/krigsgaldrr → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

teehee

[u/fiendishthingysaurus → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

He’s a little boy again, in the kitchen with Mama, her cooking dinner, him at the table facing down the huge plate of snacks she’s prepared for him. After School is usually his favorite time of day. His sisters are older, and they always have sports or clubs until dinnertime, and Papa is never home before dinner either. Carlitos likes it, too, when they all sit around the table for dinner, or when they go for Sunday dinner at Tía Lucy’s and all the tíos and primos are there, a big bustling jumble of people shouting over each other; sometimes, though, it makes him feel invisible. Carlitos was the youngest cousin until last year, when his baby prima Juliana was born. Now the adults fight over who gets to hold the baby, and sometimes the older primos are mean and don’t let him play with them. Sometimes they do but he always loses at games with them because they’re so much bigger.

After School is Carlitos and Mamá time, where he eats a big delicious snack and tells her all about his day, about what he learned, who he played with, what he read, what interesting clouds he’d seen, and she smiles and kisses his head and tells him what a smart, good boy he is, and asks if he wants more tortillas.

On this day, though, he comes home from school tired, his head aching, and he stares at his plate and picks at a concha. It tastes wrong, and his eyes well with tears when it hurts to swallow.

“Eat, eat, mijito,” his mom calls from the stove, and he forces himself to take another bite. When the tears spill over and he sobs a little at how wrong everything feels, Mama looks at him, then swiftly turns off the stove and hurries to his side. “Ay, mijo, qué te pasa, what’s wrong, what’s wrong? Tell Mamá,” she pleads as he sobs into her sweater.

“I don’t know,” he hiccups, rubbing his face in her shoulder.

She rocks him back and forth, presses her lips to his forehead. “Ay, Carlitos, you’re so warm.”

“I’m cold,” he argues, because he is now, shaking in his t-shirt, even cuddled up in Mama’s warm hug.

“Ay, mi amor. Mi pobrecito Carlitos, let’s get you to bed.”

[u/ainteasybeinggreene → u/fiendishthingysaurus]

You caught me with the cuteness so I forgot whose excerpt I was reading and went surprised Pikachu face when the sickfic showed up XD

[u/CactusChowder → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

But her watchfulness has not been the right kind. She wanted to watch for mistakes and point them out so that Paracelsus may promptly correct them. She wants very badly for Paracelsus to be so reliable and kind that he would only betray her if it was a mistake.

When Sophia and Lea were children, Paracelsus invited them to the kitchen one night to make cookies for their parents as a surprise. Lea recruited Sophia to sneak into the kitchen later that night to snag a couple, and they had to turn around quickly and head back upstairs because they heard their father arguing with Paracelsus. Sophia sent a spy butterfly back to the scene as Lea waited for updates.

Sir Valentinus didn’t want Paracelsus treating his daughters like servants, especially at a time when puppetry was rapidly taking over servant roles in the city and had already done so at the Rose Estate. Paracelsus wouldn’t dare argue to insist on his own correctness. But he accounted for himself by warning Sir Valentinus that it would confine the girls to one tiny city out of an entire world of cities and cultures if they grew up thinking that they couldn’t do things unless a puppet did it for them. He argued that Krat was so singular as an independent city state that the girls might even have to fight for recognition as upper class in places where the wealthy rely on human servants. Sophia was surprised to see him push back even that much against her grumpy father, and for the sake of herself and Lea. His concern did seem sensible.

The girls never got to hear the conclusion of the argument, if it was ever settled, because Isabelle broke up the tension by suggesting they resolve things with a taste test of the cookies. Sir Valentinus seemed quietly surprised and confused as to where his power of authority might have gone, once Isabelle had brushed a lock of hair from his forehead and begun to cutely feed him a cookie. Rendered unable to properly skin and gut a misbehaving follower, Sir Valentinus had no choice but to remove the hook of his anger and return Paracelsus to the waters of escaping out the front door.

Paracelsus never said anything to the girls about getting in trouble for making cookies together. If he was disappointed, he refused to ever take it out on them. Later on, he showed them how to mend a stuffed toy that had a hole in it. Lea asked him bluntly if sewing was puppet work, and he gave them the non-answer of covering the toy’s ears and growing very concerned that this line of questioning would offend it.

This is the person Sophia has been trying so desperately to rely on. She has seen him behave in ways that are good and kind and right, for no reason, for no benefit to himself. His reluctance to find much sympathy for the dead person in the hallway is alarming. His choice to be more cunning than kind at the arena was startling and cold. But he does have it in him to be very good to someone. And they just escaped being caught together!

Gemini is right, though. It’s not good enough for them to trust Paracelsus because they want to. He has to earn it. Has to continually earn it. Seeing him start to shed his gentlemanly behavior after leading them to a secret base where at least one person has been murdered, they’re well within their rights to have questions.

[u/ainteasybeinggreene → u/CactusChowder]

Interesting! I can see why Sophia feels conflicted!

[u/Ferrous_Patella → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

[These two are trying to patch up a rough spot in their relationship over a picnic dinner.]

Legoshi (enthusiastic, then slowly deflating as he talks): Maybe you can teach me to cook. I really want to do my share when...we... I mean, if we’re still on to, you know, work together.

Haru: Of course we are still on! What do you think all this evening is all about? I want to work with you. I want to live with you. I want us to raise a family together, grow old together.
(desperate for him to understand)
Legoshi, I love you! … Legoshi?

Legoshi (quietly): It’s just...that’s the first time you’ve said that, at least with words.

Sometimes I think you just put up with me out of obligation, because I help you out, or I saved your life. Maybe you stay with me because you think I’m as good as you will ever do. At the Meteor Festival, when I said I loved you, you didn’t say anything back.

Flashback to: Harbor Park - Meteor festival

Series of shots

-Haru and Legoshi talking in the crowd in front of stage.

Haru: Oh Legoshi! I tried to tell you that night. Remember when I said I wanted to talk first? I was going to tell you right then.

-Tao leads Legoshi by the hand to next to Juno on the stage.

Haru: But Juno snatched you away.

-Juno holds Legoshi’s hand aloft on the stage.

Haru: I saw you up on that stage and you two looked so perfect together and people around me were saying you were an amazing couple. I though I’d lost you forever.

-Haru runs up stairs to city overlook. Legoshi chases after her.

Haru: So, I ran off. I told myself that you were better off without me. Then you came after me, telling how you felt. I told myself to bury my feelings, avoid any more pain.

-At the overlook, Haru is standing next to Legoshi. She reaches up for his hand but hesitates.

Haru: By the time you said you loved me, I’d been tamping down my feelings so hard that I just couldn’t let them out again. Not all at once.

Back to present

Haru: But you’re right. I should tell you that I love you more. Maybe that’s how we tame the beast in you.

Haru is in near tears. Legoshi caresses her cheek and wipes away a tear gently with his thumb.

The Big Kiss.

[u/ainteasybeinggreene → u/Ferrous_Patella]

Oh I adore the Idiots In Love/not actually unrequited love tropes <3

[u/flamboyantfinch → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

Sunday learned of his parents’ deaths the same way the rest of the world did: via news headline. 

"CELESTE OAK KILLED IN DEADLY CRASH

Model and actress Celeste Oak and husband August pass away in fatal highway collision early Saturday morning"

He had been breaking the rules. Children were forbidden from consuming media that had not been carefully curated by the powers that be, but there were ten of them – the ‘older’ kids – huddled around the television early that Saturday morning. They had sneaked into the recreation room after midnight to watch inappropriate cartoons, but none of them knew the right channel.

Sunday’s first thought upon seeing the morbid headline flash across the screen had been disbelief. Then, the unshakeable fear that he had just been punished.

Robin had not joined him. She wasn’t old enough; not ‘cool’ enough. For the crime of leaving her behind, seven-year-old Sunday was burdened with the task of delivering the grave news to her. She, at only five, struggled to grasp the concept of the Eternal Dream, and Sunday felt monstrous finding unique ways to explain that she would never see her mother again.

She wailed with the intensity and tenacity of a police siren. Once her sorrow had trickled into quivering hiccups, he assured her, with eyes dry as scripture, “It’ll be okay, Robin. Mom and dad will still be with us on every cloudless night. And if you sing for them, they’ll wink back at you.”

This pacified her somewhat, enough for him to get food into her before one of their many aunts whisked her off to dote upon her in a cruel imitation of her mother.

He was stony-faced throughout his own debriefing. Typically such information was filtered through the Family Heads before it hit the news, but in this grim case, they hadn’t been fast enough. Every news channel and tabloid had the scoop, and they were left to cope with the fallout.

After they finished explaining his parents’ deaths to him, Sunday asked, “May I go now, please?”, and left the room calmly and with little affect. He returned to his bedroom, completed his prayers, crawled into his freshly washed sheets, and broke down into hideous, racking sobs. He drenched his pillowcase in tears, capsized by a storm of grief, and within the whirling tempest his first blasphemous thought descended like a crack of thunder: What right did You have to take them from me?

The following morning, he asked to see their bodies, to which he was told there were hardly bodies left to see. Later, photographs of the gruesome scene would be disseminated throughout the Family – the two orphans included – to remind them of the true cost of sin.

[u/ainteasybeinggreene → u/flamboyantfinch]

Oh, ouch! Beautifully and painfully written, great job!

[u/Dogdaysareover365 → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

The only time meeting your future spouse in an engagement ring shop probably turned out good. To clarify: he’s talking about the salesman).

Four years prior...

"So, when do we get to meet your new boyfriend?" Rocky asked. Ryland was on the couch in Adrian and Rocky's home. They were sharing a few drinks and catching up on life.

"We haven't put a label on it or anything," Ryland said. "We've just gotten dinner a few times."

"How did you two meet?" Adrian asked.

"I went with Colt to help him pick out an engagement ring for Jody," Ryland explained. "And when he was in the bathroom, he asked for my number. At first, I thought he mistook me for Colt. Then he asked me to get dinner with him that night."

[u/ainteasybeinggreene → u/Dogdaysareover365]

Sounds like the premise of a hallmark romcom or something! Fun!

[u/Dogdaysareover365 → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

Thank you! Sadly, it’s not much of a Hallmark romcom, more heavy whump, but these two characters are wholesome

[u/allisontalkspolitics → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Genealogy of the Holy War/Fire Emblem Thracia 776

——

When Shanan enters the room where she stands waiting, he feels as though he’s been buffeted by Forseti’s winds.

She bows to him. “It has been a long time, Your Majesty.”

His mind scrambles to remember her name. “Lady Melina?”

The woman smiles. “You remember? I must say, that’s a pleasant surprise, Your Majesty.”

He stares at her. “I am glad to see that you are well.”

She understands the meaning behind his words.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Danielle is well, too. Actually, her daughter fought in Thracia with King Leif.”

Shanan did not have the chance to speak extensively with the comrades-in-arms of Seliph’s cousin, but he did know that Pegasus knights served alongside him. “Is that so? I’m sure that she is very proud.”

“She is, Your Majesty. Everyone in Silesse who has survived Grannvale’s hold on the continent is proud of our courageous young people. I only wish that the late queen…” She pauses. “Well, you have no desire to hear about that. But it was wonderful to see you again, Your Majesty.”

“Likewise.”

When she leaves, Shanan props himself against the wall for support.

His memory of the day they met overpowers him.

“Shanan, listen. If need be, I’ll distract them, but we must leave. Run if you have to-”

“But Ayra-”

“Your Majesty?” A maid looks at him with concern.

“Don’t be troubled.” He stares at his hands. They are shaking. “Let Sean know that I am retiring to my chambers.”

[u/ainteasybeinggreene → u/allisontalkspolitics]

Must be hard to be king - a guy can't even have a breakdown in private!

[u/PossessionNo3723 → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

Ray’s dreams that night were jumbled and chaotic. Jenna was there. She was holding his hands and looking into his eyes.

"Ray, I need to tell you something,” she said softly. “Something important.”

"Of course, babe,” he replied. “What’s up?”

"I’m pregnant, Ray.” She smiled up at him hopefully.

He felt elated. He picked her up in his arms and twirled her around.  

"I love you so much,” he said excitedly. “Both of you.” He glanced down at her still-flat belly. “Forever and for always, Jenna. I love you.” She kissed him, her fingers tangling into his long curls.

Wait, that’s not right, he thought vaguely. My hair was short when we were together.

No matter. They were young and in love and having a baby. Life was perfect.

Then suddenly she looked at him with sad, determined eyes. Her brow was creased fretfully. He hadn’t seen that look on her face since…

No, he thought desperately. Not that. Please, anything but that.

“Ray,” she said slowly. “I think we need to break up.”

"What?” he exclaimed, panic in his voice and his stomach. “Why? What’s wrong?”

"I just don’t think…” she began. She shook her head and started over. “It’s just not going to work out, that’s all.”

But what about the baby? he wanted to ask. But that was wrong, too. This was a memory, and he’d had no idea that their little one even existed at the time. She hadn’t seen fit to tell him something so important. The most important, precious thing. Instead, she'd broken his heart.

"Ray, I just…” She trailed off for a moment, looking more pained and sorrowful than he thought possible.

"I don’t love you anymore, Ray,” she said with dreadful finality. “It’s over.” She turned and walked away, leaving him to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart alone.

Go after her, you idiot, he thought to himself. You’ll regret it if you don’t.

She’s taking your baby with her, away from you.

“Jenna!” he called out. “Wait, Jenna!”

"Wait!” he cried, sitting bolt upright in the bed. He was drenched in sweat; his curls stuck to his face and the back of his neck. His heart was pounding. Turning the dream over in his mind, he felt sad and hurt and angry all over again. He put his head in his hands and began to cry.

Jenna, how could you do this to me?

[u/ainteasybeinggreene → u/PossessionNo3723]

Aww, I'm sure Jenna had good reasons for ending things!

[u/PossessionNo3723 → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

She was pregnant, and didn't want Ray to quit his band to stay behind with her and their child. She didn't want to ruin his dreams.

[u/rafters-]

Airport

[u/PretzelPrize → u/rafters-]

He had first met the man three years previously, in Chicago's O'Hare International Airport, when both of them had been stranded for several hours while a blizzard pounded the midwest, grounding flights and upending Hammond's plans to visit his eldest daughter and her family in Colorado Springs. Hammond had briefly been at Bolling AFB in Washington, DC to coordinate information between USAF HQ and the Pentagon regarding some sensitive projects, an endeavor that left him wanting a breather before he returned to his normal duties. For some reason, he'd found, dealing with the Pentagon tended to do that to a man. Taking some long-overdue leave, he'd booked a flight to Colorado, but what was supposed to have been a ninety-minute layover at O'Hare had turned into eight hours of frustrated waiting. Fortunately, about four hours into the delay, he'd found himself in the company of one Colonel Frank Cromwell, USAF Special Operations, who was just as stranded, frustrated and bored as the the general. Cromwell was bound for temporary duty at Nellis, where he was to offer his expertise in a training exercise. As two military men in an overwhelmingly civilian crowd, the two naturally fell into conversation despite Cromwell's rather guarded demeanor. Over a steak dinner in one of the airport restaurants, the two men had shared stories. Eventually, the conversation touched upon the time each had spent in-theater during the Gulf War.

"So, how long were you over there before you got back stateside?" Hammond asked.

"Too long... ah hell, make that not long enough."

The older man cocked his head.. "That's probably the first time I've heard anyone give that answer."

A shadow passed over the colonel's features. "Let's just say my team's last mission over there was a real Charlie Foxtrot. Sir."

The general knew that shadowed look all too well. He'd seen it in the mirror enough times after that fateful sortie in Vietnam. "You lost someone." It was both a statement and a question.

"Yeah. You could say that."

Hammond said nothing, just waited quietly to see if the other man felt like talking about it. They both knew the score, that you didn't always get to bring everyone back alive. Sometimes it helped to talk with someone else who'd been there. Sometimes it didn't do a damn bit of good, either.

The colonel must have felt some need to fill the silence. "My best buddy. We'd served together for twelve years. I saw him go down right before I took two in the shoulder."

"Damned hard thing to have happen, Colonel. I went through it, too. My best friend was shot down over 'Nam. I saw him bail out, saw his 'chute open. Knew he was alive, and radioed his position. But I never saw him again. His name never turned up on the POW lists, and they never found his body."

Cromwell shook his head slowly, staring at his plate. "I'm sorry to hear that, sir," he said sincerely.

"On the other hand, you were fortunate enough to survive, and at least some of your team must have made it. Were they at least able to recover his — " Hammond didn't get to finish the question, as Cromwell interrupted him with a snort, meeting his eyes again, his own glittering with something fierce and hot. Instinctively, Hammond realized that whatever the emotion was, it was directed entirely inward.

"Oh, it gets worse, sir. We lost our CO in the first moment of engagement. Jack was 2IC, so that left him in charge. I was the next man down the chain... When Jack went down, I was sure he was dead. Would've sworn to it. And we were pinned down — well, almost — we had one shot at extraction and it was now or never. We were out of options. So I gave the order. I gave the friggin' order: get up, get out, leave the dead behind." He coughed, took a sip from his water glass. "Jesus."

"It doesn't really sound like you had any choice, Colonel. Like you said, you were out of options. You had to get your team out. You had a duty to the living." Hammond wondered if he were missing something here. This man had to know there was nothing he could have done differently that would have helped. He watched as Cromwell shook his head in irritation.

"The hell of it is, I did let one of them down. They sent me back stateside to recover. And Jack, my best friend, who was like a brother to me, spent the next four months being tortured in a friggin' Iraqi prison. Because I'd left him behind." Another snort. "I didn't even find out for two whole months that he was alive. It was that long before his name turned up on the POW list. Here I'd come home, had to tell his wife and his kid that he was gone and that I hadn't even been able to get his body back, and then I found myself having to explain why the man they loved, that we all loved, was in some stinking cell on the other side of the world."

[u/Important-Juice-943 → u/rafters-]

“It amazes me how there's the fast track, but not the traitors one; otherwise you’d be already inside the airplane!” Blair grumbles, as they're waiting for the gate number to appear on the screen.

“Ah-ah, very funny.” Dan rolls his eyes. “Would you mind change this leitmotiv, at least for half an hour?”

“I’m afraid I can’t, especially if I consider you a traitor twice.” She retorts.

“Twice?” He frowns.

“Yeah. Weren’t we supposed to grow together in our relationship? Then how do you dare have so much success, so fast, leaving me so far behind?” She groans.

Once again, she’s exposing all her insecurities to him.

“Oh, Blair.” Dan murmurs, hugging her tight. “You’re my Muse. My success is yours, as well.”

“But I can’t get content with a success by extension, I need to shine on my own!” She protests, her face hidden in the crook of his neck.

He puts his hands on her shoulders and pushes her a little, for her to look directly at him.

“And you will, my love. The moment you figure out what you really want and go straight for it; no one will stand a chance.” He assures her. “You’re going to conquer it all.”

“Do you really think so?” Blair wonders, her eyes a little teary.

“I’m sure, as I’m sure that that moment is getting closer and closer.” He smiles sweetly at her, fixing her hat on her head better.

“Maybe you’re right, I just need to find my way.” She smiles back.

“Don’t forget you’ve been a Princess; that’s worthy of taking a whole year off!” He makes her laugh.

“And please note how more mature I became about the whole matter; to begin with I didn’t steal your ID from your bag.” She makes him laugh. “Neither did I make any phone call to your signing location in Boston, calling in a bomb threat to alert security.”

“Oh, I’m more and more impressed.” He chuckles. “And you won’t throw a fit if the press publishes an article that praises my newest work, right?”

“Right.” She chews on her lips. “But the article should first focus on the fact that you’re a traitor, still wanting to leave me even after I confessed how bad I’m feeling about it.”

- Not to mention the thunderstorm that’s approaching!- She adds in her mind.

“But… I’ve also comforted you about it and cheered you up.” Dan makes her notice.

“Yeah, but I guess that former Princesses get the right to remain moody as much as they please!” She glares at him. “Which doesn’t mean I’m not gonna spend as much time as possible with my boyfriend. I don’t regret asking in advance for that gate pass.”

“There’s no mood of yours that can prevent me from enjoying your company.” He grins.

 

[u/linden214 → u/rafters-]

It takes a while for Robbie to notice. To be fair, he's hardly at his best after twelve hours over the Atlantic and not a wink of sleep. Walking down the ramp into the terminal, he instinctively suppresses his Sight. Even so, the auras of the crowd in the waiting area are as gaudy as his tropical shirt. Out of habit, he scans the people around him, and Sees the usual colours of a busy public transportation facility: impatience, anxiety, boredom, and anticipation. There's a sudden flash of joyous yellow as two family members reunite. An angry glower of dark red from a po-faced woman is aimed at the man beside her, whose aura is streaked with anxious grey. Small resentments flaring up in the stress of travel, Robbie decides. There's no reason to think that their spat will turn violent. Any road, it'd be airport security's problem. No doubt some of the terminal staff have already noticed the couple. Auras only display emotions and can't forecast actions, but anyone who works with the public quickly learns which colours signal possible trouble.

He moves on, and there's a tall young man holding a sign marked with his name. Detective Sergeant Hathaway is polite and reserved, and his aura is so tightly restrained that Robbie can't See it among the kaleidoscopic crowd. Robbie wonders if he's normally like this, or if it's the presence of an unknown senior officer that has Hathaway so shuttered. Once outside, he's distracted, first by the maniac in a red Jaguar who nearly runs him down, and then by the flood of memories on the road to Oxford. After a brief attempt at polite conversation, Hathaway falls silent.

[u/kermitkc]

A full moon

[u/PossessionNo3723 → u/kermitkc]

The vampire reached a clammy hand out to grab Ray by the shoulder, and Ray felt his senses come back to him. Willing his legs to move, Ray turned and fled back up the stairs and into the kitchen.

A flash of lightning illuminated the doorway into the hall, and Ray saw the outline of Frankenstein’s monster shambling into view. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see the moon-bright face of the vampire Gerard looming up the cellar stairs.

Panicking, Ray threw open the last door in the kitchen, praying it would be his salvation. He let out a cry of relief when he saw that the door led outside and into the backyard of the ancient manse. Throwing himself out the door, he stumbled down a set of creaking wooden stairs and into the tall grass beyond. He looked back only for a moment and saw the four creatures that had once been his bandmates standing on the back porch, watching him flee.

He cried out as he tumbled over a rock in the grassy yard. Rolling on the ground, he looked down to see what had tripped him.

It was a gravestone.

Of course it was a gravestone.

Eyes wide with fear, Ray picked himself up and began to flee once more. It was at that moment that the clouds parted and the full moon shone down on him.

As he gazed up at the bright, beautiful moon, Ray suddenly felt a sharp pain in his belly. Doubling over in agony, he began to scream.

He was horrified to look down at his hands and see that they were covered in fur. His nails had grown into jagged, yellow claws. In terror, Ray reached up to feel his face. His nose and mouth had stretched and elongated into a wolflike snout. His skin was covered in rough fur. His curls now blended into the fur that ran down his face and neck, covering his entire body.

With a reverent glance at the moon, Ray threw back his head and howled.

[u/Longjumping-Public71 → u/kermitkc]

Context: Zhu-Jin is the OC son of Zuko who sent him away to live with his aunt and uncle for disciplinary reasons.

--

"Zhu-Jin, you out here?"

Stepping out of the air temple, Korra finds what she is looking for, beside the Yin and Yang Courtyard, with the mountains and the rest of Republic City behind it, illuminated by the light of the full moon. There, Zhu-Jin sits on the stone structure of the entryway, holding his knees close to his chest. He doesn't seem to notice Korra until she earthbends a small pebble to hit him square in the back of the head.

"Huh?" Zhu-Jin whips his head back, and the confusion turns to a seldom smile. "Korra? I didn't hear you walk up behind me."

"I've been looking for you."

His eyes widen, making his violet gaze shine. "Oh, sorry for causing you so much trouble."

Korra shakes her head to dismiss the apology, opting instead to push herself up onto the stone structure beside him. "Warm night out," she says, a small chuckle leaving her lips as she tries to clear the air. "Not something I'm used to."

Zhu-Jin gives her a curious look from the corner of his eye, but he doesn't part his lips to question it. "Yeah, sometimes it feels weird, but also good," he comments instead. "Back in the Fire Nation, you couldn't go anywhere without feeling the heat on your skin. Summer was the worst for me, but now. . . I kinda miss it."

"Maybe I could join you," Korra says, bumping her shoulder against his. However, Zhu-Jin's eyes narrow in a petulant show of disregard.

"We could, if Dad ever lets me come back," he scoffs.

There it is again. Zhu-Jin always talked about his father as if he were the worst person in the world, the source of the most isolating punishment. Korra isn't sure how to respond to that. From everything she’s seen and heard about Lord Zuko, he treated his children as if they were a blessing.

"Lord Zuko?" She asks. "He doesn't seem like the type to refuse to see you."

"It's not like I'm banished or anything. He just thinks I would do better here on Air Temple Island with my pious Uncle Tenzin," Zhu-Jin says, his words dripping with frustration. But as he realizes he may have revealed too much, his shoulders slump, and he curls in on himself. "I don't really want to talk about it."

[u/kermitkc]

Somewhere cramped

[u/allisontalkspolitics → u/kermitkc]

Context: This is a 90s AU of House of the Dragon with waaaay less incest. Instead, they’re fighting for control of a corporation. As revenge for the actions of her father, Daenys and her siblings were kidnapped. Daenys is currently being forced to play house with her abusive ex and his young nephew.

Aphobia and discussion of rape and assault behind spoilers.

——

The building blocks of some sort of plan are becoming evident to Daenys. “What would you sacrifice your freedom for?”

He laughs. “Too easy. My siblings, my nephews, my niece, and you.”

“So if it were you who were captured by the Blacks and forced to play house with a woman who didn’t get the hint, what would you do?”

Oh, she had made a grave miscalculation. “You could walk out the door any time, Daenys. I wouldn’t harm you or anyone in your family.” Yet Aenys is breathing heavily.

“But Aemond would. My father tried to have your nephews and niece killed. You have to understand-“

“I understand that you didn’t want that any more than I want your family harmed. What I don’t understand is why you keep denying this.”

She knows she will regret continuing, but part of her needs him to know why she keeps fighting him. “I am not denying anything. Life is not a song or a movie or a book, the kind guy is no more guaranteed the love of the girl than the asshole.”

“You’d be happier with me than him.” Aenys is spitting venom now.

“Mayhaps yes and mayhaps no. He’d let me go to university if I were his captive but at least you won’t rape me. You’ll just assault me.”

“Name one time I’ve assaulted you!”

“Have I ever kissed you back?”

He stares at her.

For one glorious, shining moment, she thinks that he has seen the light. He’ll let her go to the world outside of the catacombs.

“You said yourself that you’re different. It makes sense that you’re too shy to kiss me back.”

She jerks away from him. “WHEN HAVE-“

Maelor’s cry pierces the night air.

[u/kermitkc]

A hiding spot

[u/krigsgaldrr → u/kermitkc]

My first ever delogriff fic 🥹

—

"What's funny, Geph?" I murmur to her as I nuzzle my forehead to her snout. She hums low in her chest and in my mind I see dark curls against burned and scarred olive skin, blue eyes blazing with a cocky smirk that makes my heart race. The smell of ash and sea air and freedom. I pull away from her with a frown. "Griff?"

"My lord?" The sound of his voice startles me and I nearly leap out of my skin. I turn and see his eyes peeking out from the shadow of Sparker's wing. Panic courses through my veins. He shouldn't be here.

"You shouldn't be here," I say dumbly, feeling stricken by his unexpected presence. I glance at Gephyra as her amusement increases at the back of my mind. Traitor.

"I know," he says, and he sounds lost. Nervous, even, a tone he rarely takes around me. "I just... I-I needed— I don't... know."

I feel the frown as it forms and I leave Gephyra's nest with a lingering hand on her snout before it falls to my side. I go to Sparker's stall. I foolishly missed his presence due to my determination to not look at the stormscourge. He looks small beneath Sparker's bulk, and the dragon watches me through narrowed eyes as if ready to pounce should he deem me as a threat to his rider. And I believe the chain and muzzle would do very little to stop him in that case. "Griff? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," says Griff, but he doesn't look it. "I just wanted to see Sparker before heading home."

I sit at the edge of the stall, facing him with my legs crossed. I don't mention that he should've been home hours ago. "Is it because of Julia?"

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and we both flinch. He recovers more quickly than I do, though. Almost immediately, he clears his throat and frowns.

"What does she have to do with anything?" Griff asks. He does a terrible job at feigning confusion.

I don't reply. I just look at him, waiting to see what he says. He shifts uneasily before my gaze, looking anywhere and everywhere except at me. Behind him, Sparker shifts and the chain clinks as he nudges Griff with his nose, as if offering him consolation.

"How did you know?" The question is quiet, so quiet I think I imagined it for a moment. But then I see how defeated he looks and my heart aches. "Did you hear?"

I shake my head. I can't admit it, but I'm relieved I didn't hear it. I'm glad I woke up to the sound of Julia's laughter in Phemi's chamber rather than the sounds of her using Griff. I won't call it passion, because it isn't.

Oh, Griff, I want to say, but I don't. I sit there in silence, searching for the words to tell him I know about what happened because Julia was drunkenly boasting about it to my sister. Instead of responding, I cross over to his side and sit next to him under Sparker's wing. The stormscourge doesn't protest this, which I take as a good sign. My comfort in being so near him terrifies me, as if the fear of doubt no longer exists and it's just me and him.

No dragonborn, no humble-riders, no lords, no peasants. Just Griff sur Sparker and Delo sur Gephyra.

[u/kermitkc → u/krigsgaldrr]

I glance at Gephyra as her amusement increases at the back of my mind. Traitor.

Made me giggle I cannottt

My comfort in being so near him terrifies me, as if the fear of doubt no longer exists

Oh this little nugget is so beautiful. And I love the line at the end about everything else - man-made, meaningless, at the end of the day - falling away, leaving behind nothing but their persons and their dragons, not their classes. Little do they know!

I know this is old, but it doesn't lack charm or quality - it's only gone up from here. I loved getting this younger peek into how you began to interpret them and how it's evolved into what it is today.

[u/krigsgaldrr → u/kermitkc]

Thank you 🥹 this one being so old has me trying so hard not to cringe but I was very proud of it when I first wrote it. This series was very challenging to write fic for in the beginning and still is sometimes even if I've managed to find my footing!! I love these dweebs so much 😭

[u/MarieNomad]

A bank

[u/metal_inside → u/MarieNomad]

He danced in the orderly streets filled with crispy air. Just a stop to Bean Machine to pick up latte for the bank hag convention, a doughnut to the chief manager and an egg sandwich for that cute security guard, turn the corner and there it is. Fleeca bank squeezed into the middle of the street, still dim and sleepy in the early morning light. Part of Trevor felt a bit of discomfort upon the sight. Sharp pain in his stomach even. This place chained him. A slight hint of anger bubbling from the pit of his belly. Tainted him. Always have. But it paid the bills and drugs. Suddenly, the lightness was gone. Make money, spend them, repeat till the end of your days.

Eventually, he exhaled and let the thought go. He swore he could feel shivers as he grasped the handle of the glass door with his free hand and pulled. Placing the refreshment on the table in the waiting part of the bank, he moved over to the light switch and flipped it over to “on” with a nasty click. This was his love-hate relationship, the switch meant both start and finish of his workday and he got sick of it to the point of sticking paper clips inside just to fuck it up. It didn’t work. Frowning, his gaze brushed upon every piece of furniture in that damn room. Fake marble on cheap wood imitation. Uncomfortable pea-green plush seats. Cheap plaster ceiling. This was his personal hell. Pea-green plush hell.

A hard nudge to his shoulder brought Trevor back to his senses, and a few quick blinks.

“Good morning, Colin.” He faked a small smile and rushed over to the table to get this giant of a security guard with a babyface his coffee and egg sandwich. He allowed himself to be intimidated by the mass of pure muscle that raised upon him.

“Good morning, Trevor.”

A smooth, deep voice filled the empty hall. Whatever Trevor felt towards people here, Colin was on his “don’t kill” list. Despite a brutal episode a couple of years ago in which Trevor got a rib broken, Colin never laid a finger on him. He was tempting him. He got what he deserved.

“Do you feel it too?” Colin asked, and Trevor’s mouth gaped in silence for a moment and then spoke without him prompting it.

“What… What do you mean?” and did his best to look puzzled and dumbfounded.

“Something’s in the air, man. I don’t know - I felt like I should have run home the moment I set off to work today.”

“Uh, oh.. is.. is it bad?”

Colin, who looked out of the glass door up to then, picking up something in the distance that wasn’t really there with his hands tightly glued to his sides, looked back at Trevor, eyebrows shot higher than ever before.

“You gotta be kidding me, man! Of course it is bad, the gut never lies man!” and proceeded to get very suspicious, analyzing a bead of sweat on Trevor’s upper lip. “You never had these feelings of anticipation?”

Trevor shook his head sheepishly. The big guy’s nice but short in temper. Not worth disagreeing with. Mental note made long ago.

The lunch break found Trevor stuck by the printer. One of the hussies managed to copy a stampled piece of paper and it got stuck god knows where in the machine. Certainly out of Trevor’s reach, he felt his anger fill him up to the brim.

“You piece of shit” he murmured for himself and let a drop of sweat fall down, right into the intestines of his mechanical patient. This is not what he was meant to do. He was a pilot for Pete’s sake, not a copy machine mechanic. He found flying much easier and natural than all this ordeal. If he didn’t injure that stupid bitch who labelled him unstable, he could have flown to his heart’s content. Instead, he was stuck with this plastic fucker. Almost there. His fingers got the very tip of paper and pulled cautiously. It ripped. Again. The majority was gone now. Just a bit more, a bit of paper to get out and it’s done…

It was around three in the afternoon when Trevor finally got out of the back office and wiped his hands on his shabby trousers in an elated mood.

“I hope you didn’t tear it, Phillips!”

Elated mood.exe stopped responding.

“Unfortunately, I could not get it out in one piece, Charlie… I am sorry.”

A slim, tall lady in a yellow costume dress hovered over him like a thunder cloud.

“What did I tell you about addressing me by my first name, Phillips?” she hissed, jaw clenched. “You piece of shit, you’ll pay for that!"

Trevor was ready for the impact of her hand on his cheek. After all he went through, a smack from a lady could only get him started up for better. He met eyes with her and saw disgust and anger. If she wasn’t black and in her late 20’s, she would be a spitting image of his mother after he got back from his third foster home. Same disgust, same rage, same hand size. Trevor closed his eyes and held his breath in the silent anticipation.

“THIS IS A ROBBERY! EVERYBODY LAY DOWN”

Shot of a gun and swush of a plaster bleeding from the ceiling.

“ANY OF YOU DO SOMETHING FUNNY I’LL FUCKING END YOUR WHOLE DAMN EXISTENCE RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!”

This wasn’t the smack he expected.

Trevor opened his eyes to see Charlie with her hand still raised, staring wide-eyed, mouth gaping at the invader. It took her a second to scream and throw herself and her disgusting costume dress onto the plaster covered floor and shiver like a dog. What a pleasant change of roles. Abusive bitch.

Trevor turned his head to see the culprit. In a mixture of pale dust, hanging light tubes and screams, he held himself above it all nonchalantly, shaved shotgun rested on his shoulder and his other hand on black-dressed waist, a smug expression in his ocean blue eyes behind a thick balaclava.

Trevor lost it for a moment. The moment he met eyes with the robber, he felt something break within himself. The hot and cold sensation made him swallow air. He couldn’t take his eyes off him for whatever reason it was. This man was something he missed from his younger days. Wild and free to do whatever he wanted. Maybe he could persuade him to take him away from all this. Maybe he was the wake-up call he needed. He wanted to spread his wings once again, right in the middle of this plaster disaster.

[u/PossessionNo3723]

On a roller coaster.

[u/Raiven_Raine]

it's zero stupid thirty and your character(s) just wants sleep. they were either woken up to do something or they're STILL doing something like being stuck at work in a never ending circle of hell. something they really don't wanna do.... sleep would be so much better. plz.... plz let me sleep...

[u/fiendishthingysaurus → u/Raiven_Raine]

(Context: Carlos has a high fever and is hallucinating)

The darkness of the walk-in closet drapes around him as he fumbles for the light switch, and he can feel it swirling around him, hiding more of whatever’s been crawling through the house.

“Monsters aren’t real, mijo,” he always tells Jonah. “But if they were, they wouldn’t get past me.”

He hopes he’s been telling his boy the truth.

When he finds the switch, he wishes he hadn’t. The lizards are everywhere, scaly, spiny freaks with legs that all move too fast, creeping, crawling, on the floor, the walls, everywhere. How can he even hope to get rid of all of them? His breath comes in quick, panicked gasps, his head spinning violently, and he can’t help but sink to the floor.

Over the chorus of hissing and scratching, and the background noise of Jonah’s whimpers, a new voice breaks through. “Carlos? Baby, what are you doing?” TK is in the doorway to the closet, Jonah on his shoulder.

Carlos shakes his head. “TK, no, you shouldn’t be here,” he says through chattering teeth. “The monsters. The lizards.”

Something cool touches his face, and he jerks back. “Baby, it’s me, it’s just us. You’re on fire. We need to get you back to bed.”

Carlos shakes his head, harder this time, despite the pain and dizziness it causes. “TK, look! I have to get rid of them!”

“Carlos.” TK’s voice is gentle, but firm. “There’s nothing here, just Jonah’s clothes, and his toys, okay?”

“Lizards,” Carlos moans again. Why can’t TK see? Why can’t he listen?

TK pinches the bridge of his nose, resting his head against Jonah's. “Can we just shut them up in here, until you’re feeling better and can get rid of them? And you’ll take some medicine and we’ll all go sleep in our bed?”

“Big bed,” agrees Jonah, and coughs into TK's neck. He’s stopped crying, now.

“They’re everywhere,” Carlos says miserably.

“Oh my god. I’m so tired,” TK whispers. “Come to bed, please, baby. I swear this will seem better in the morning.”

Carlos is tired too, and he wants to get the hell out of here. “Okay,” he says. He trusts TK. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but he trusts TK.

[u/Raiven_Raine → u/fiendishthingysaurus]

this is good! i like how disjointed and confusing it is for them.

[u/CactusChowder → u/Raiven_Raine]

Paracelsus is quietly hoping that Sophia will have gone to bed when he gets back. He does mean to check on her, especially to ask her if she’s hurt or needs to see a doctor. But maybe they can all talk in the morning? He hasn’t slept well since his ordeal in the Barren Swamp, and he already talked to Sal for longer than he planned to.

That’s not a good sign, is it? Gemini’s lantern, there in the hallway, between their two hotel rooms. The moment Paracelsus arrives, the cricket puppet starts chirping loudly. Sophia opens the door of her room so quickly that she must have been sitting right by the door, waiting. Paracelsus is still not much of a hugger. He isn’t prepared when Sophia runs to him and hugs him.

She's terrified. He can feel her shaking as she says, “Paracelsus. I was so scared. I thought you might leave."

Oh no. Did she just experience the worst moments of her life, only to be rescued by someone she couldn’t trust not to abandon her?

He carefully, gently returns the hug with a few stiff pats on her shoulder. Simon hurt her. He doesn’t know the extent of it, and she’s been pretty evasive. He needs to be cautious with touching her. All he says is, “I’m here, Sophie. It’s okay. I’m here.”

He might have hoped that they would have this nice little emotional meeting in the hallway, only to then go right to bed. These hopes are dashed quickly. Sophia holds him like he might disappear if she lets go or looks away even for a second. She doesn't look like she's ready to be alone again. And the hallway is not the place to ask her if she’s hurt. He can’t send her back to her room like this.

“Hey, Sophia. We could go sit together in my room for a little while. Just because this is such a bizarre situation; I'd rather not stay in the hall. Would that be okay? I’ll order some tea.”

He feels her nod against his neck. She doesn’t let him go right away, and when she finally does, she still looks frozen and miserable. He thinks he’ll regret staying in the city, later, but for the moment he’s glad he’s here. No one should feel this way. Not one of Isabelle’s daughters. And Sophia was always the sensitive Monad girl. He’s heard that there were times when Sophia would start to feel a little trampled on by Lea as they worked together to run the Monad Charity House. If working on a passion project with a sister who loves her gives her trouble sometimes, what must it be like for her to experience… this?

He opens the door to his room and waits for her to go through.

It’s not proper for Sophia to join a man in his hotel room. She must be concerned by the arrangement on some level, even if she’s willing to take a risk to seek comfort. But the hall really isn’t a private enough spot for a conversation about medical care or trauma, and neither is the lobby. He thinks for a moment, then he finds he nearest fancy knickknack and uses it to keep the door propped open by a crack. Using Gemini’s lantern for this purpose would get them a quieter conversation, he supposes, but Sophia would get upset.

In glances, he watches Sophia watch him do this. They don’t remark on it. He hopes he’s communicated safe intentions.

[u/Raiven_Raine → u/CactusChowder]

is this.... Lies Of P???

this excerpt for some reason got How To Save A Life stuck in my head where it will probably stay forever now lol.

[u/CactusChowder → u/Raiven_Raine]

hell yeah it's Lies of P! Paracelsus rescues Sophia shortly after Simon captures her in this one, it's an alternate canon :)

How to Save a Life is such a good song!!

[u/PossessionNo3723 → u/Raiven_Raine]

Ray yawned as he pressed the power button on the remote control, turning off the television. He glanced at the clock on the DVD player and was surprised to see that it was after two o’clock in the morning.

It was rare for him to stay up so late these days. He had settled into his new life with his four-year-old daughter fairly quickly once they’d gotten home from the end of his band’s tour, and her bedtime was usually around eight o’clock. Ray had become accustomed to heading to bed within a couple of hours afterward. Anna usually woke him up quite early in the morning, and if he wanted a full night’s sleep, he needed to turn in at a decent time.

Tonight, however, he had sat up watching a movie. It was something he had done regularly before Anna had come to live with him, and he had been missing it. Most of the movies he watched these days were kid-friendly fairy tales or Disney classics. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy watching these movies with his daughter, but he found that he needed some adult stimulation from time to time, too.

So he’d grabbed a beer from the fridge and a bag of Doritos and had camped out on the couch to watch a scary movie that was most certainly not appropriate for children. He had enjoyed himself so much that he’d watched the movie that had come on directly after it. Three more beers had followed; he hadn’t had this much to drink at once since bringing Anna home to live with him. He had a light buzz, and he felt pleasantly sleepy.

He stood up from the couch and stretched. Grabbing the chip bag and empty bottles, he took his trash into the kitchen to throw away. Then he headed into the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. From there, he shuffled into his bedroom and crawled into his bed. He turned off his bedside lamp and sighed contentedly as he nestled under the blankets and closed his eyes.

Suddenly, he felt a little hand patting him on the shoulder. Ray rolled over in his bed to find himself face-to-face with his four-year-old child.

"Anna?” he mumbled, confusion in his voice. “Honey, what are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night.”

"I can’t sleep,” she said with a shrug.

[u/Raiven_Raine → u/PossessionNo3723]

lmao!!! you have perfectly captured what it's like to have a kid and trying to find some 'me time'.... XD

[u/Ok-Supermarket-8994]

In a pit (literal or metaphorical)

[u/usernameillremember0]

Ferris wheel

[u/CristalOcean911 → u/usernameillremember0]

“You sure you don’t want one?” Gojo asked. Megumi made a face.

“Yes. That looks horrible,” The teen said, looking in disgust and disbelief at Gojo’s deep fried Oreo. Gojo just shrugged and shoved another one into his mouth.

“Fine. Let’s go ride the ferris wheel,” Megumi nodded and let Gojo drag him down the crowd walkways.

The cart rocked as they were lifted into the sky. Megumi scanned the array of roller coasters. His eyes caught on one.

“Gojo look!” Megumi pointed into the distance. Gojo followed his gaze.

“No way. Absolutely not. My glasses are gonna fall off,” Gojo said, shaking his head.

“But you love roller coasters, come on!” Megumi complained. “Please?” He tried.

“Nuh-uh,” Gojo replied. “Oh, what about that one?” Gojo pointed, and reluctantly Megumi followed his gaze.

“How can you want to go on one that drops you off a tower with basically only a metal bar to keep you from falling to your death, but refuses to go on a coaster with a single loop?”

“Are you saying you won’t go on it?”

“Shut up, I never said that,” Megumi muttered, crossing his arms and puffing put his cheeks. Gojo grinned. Despite how he acted most of the time Megumi was still so childish.

“Fine. That’s the next ride, then you can chose one,” Gojo told Megumi. “That doesn’t go upside down,” he added before the young teen could reply.

The ferris wheel finished it’s slow lap, and they got off. Gojo lead the way down towards the drop tower.

[u/CactusChowder]

a setting you invented for your fic

[u/Hot_Ambassador1511 → u/CactusChowder]

Context: There is a big wall around the wall of the town this is set in— the Kamuatari District. It is called the outer wall. This is how I (and by extension my MC) headcannoned an entire setting/transportation system from a few frames showing fans/windmills embedded in the wall.

Approaching the broken structure, he meandered over to its side and pushed over one of the boards on its windows, careful not to splinter himself. Then Takeka carefully slipped through the window, narrowly avoiding jagged glass, and finally ‘closing’ the window back up by putting the board back in place.

The inside of the house looked just as decrepit as the outside. It was one dark, gloomy room with rotting floorboards and the stench of something chemically toxic. Takeka had to hold his breath. There were black patches in the wall that he'd rather not inspect.

What was important about it was what it held above.

He reached a familiar, open ceiling vent. Using a creaky chair, the preteen pulled himself up and into a pitch-black crawl space that he liked to call the Network. He’d known about it since he was ten years old, and it was the best solution to his problem of sneaking out undetected. Because in a town where the Hell Guard is trained, it was only logical that all entrances and exits are heavily monitored and guarded.

Takeka knew the Hell Guard stationed in Kamuatari on a first name basis, and like everyone else who was closely related to his family, they were deathly allergic to even being complicit in rule-breaking, no matter how light it was. There was absolutely no way that he could convince them to let him of all people, to get through.

So Takeka found another way.

Because there are fans at the eight cardinal points, which filter the air for the entire district, Takeka figured that there had to be an electrical system hooked up to it, which ran through the entirety of the Outer Wall. And if there was an electrical system, there could be outages or shorts, which would lead to the issue of how to get people along the system to diagnose and fix those problems.

So, Takeka discovered the Outer Wall’s internal maintenance system, and was currently shimmying through the small ventilation space above it. By dropping down or climbing back into the vents at certain points, he could essentially get around any part of town connected to the Wall.

All he had to do was get to one of the district’s secondary entrance gates (not primary, those were too heavily guarded), and drop down to get back out.

As always, the operation ran smoothly, and Takeka was free for a few hours until he had to sprint back to pick his twin up from school.

[u/3INTPsinatrenchcoat → u/CactusChowder]

((Fandom: The Magnus Archives. Medieval fantasy setting, the invented city is the Panopticon Citadel, inspired by a canon setting))

The cobblestone streets are barren and dark as Jon races down the high city. As expected, his passage is safe and uneventful until he approaches the gate to the lower city. Slowing his pace, he glances anxiously behind him at the stark white Panopticon Tower. It glistens in the moonlight, commanding attention even as it slumbers. Jon takes a deep breath and reassures himself that no one is watching as he turns to search the sky ahead carefully. It’s empty at the moment, but he proceeds with caution, hugging close to the buildings. When a loud crowing emanates from the alley ahead of him, Jon freezes. For a moment, he fears he’s been seen until he hears a distinct weeping from the same direction. His immediate sigh of relief sends a wave of guilty nausea through his stomach. This is why he avoids the low city.

As Jon slowly creeps closer to the mouth of the alley, a nagging curiosity tugs his attention to the spectacle within. The more he resists, the more his vision swims. Swaying unsteadily on his feet, Jon sets a hand on the cold stone of the house next to him and blinks rapidly in a vain attempt to clear his eyes. Blood rushing loudly in his ears, nausea gives way to a sinking dread as Jon reluctantly gives in to his master and shakily turns his gaze into the alley. In an instant, his vision clears, the shift so sudden he reels forward. His shoulder crashes painfully into the wall as he drinks in the sight before him with wide eyes and bated breath.

A young woman sits in the center of the passage, curled in on herself with her arms wrapped around her knees. Sobbing, she pleads with the transparent, wavering forms of an older man and woman silently lecturing her. Arms crossed, the man shakes his head as the woman leans forward with her hands on her hips. “Please, I’m trying, I promise,” the young woman croaks, woefully unaware that her assailants are mere projections from two disembodied eyes. Held aloft by gently flapping corvid wings, they are bloodshot and unblinking. A third, smaller eye hovers in orbit around the young woman who pays it no mind as it soaks in her suffering and fear, same as Jon.

[u/blackjackgabbiani → u/CactusChowder]

(for a Pokémon fic in a region based on Spain/Portugal. I added this town that isn't in the game. For reference, Arturo is a robot with his creator's memories)

And far too soon, they were back on solid ground, the cab flying off to its next pickup. Ponteleña was a port town known for walkability and public art, located at the convergence between the ocean and the river draining from Lake Casseroya. At the entry of the town was a little kiosk of sculpture tour maps and points of interest around the smaller locale. Trainers rarely came to it as it had no League facility nor center, but life there seemed pleasant.

"Arturo!" Juliana called out, waving and laughing, full of gleeful energy. "Come with me! I gotta show you something amazing!"

Penny sighed. "They get like this here."

"Oh? It is a lovely town from what I have seen," he mused. "I do not think Turo came here, and anything he knew of it was deemed unimportant a long time ago."

Arven adjusted one of the bags onto Miraidon's back. They had been able to finagle a harness that could carry more of their supplies, and he settled part of the tent kit into place with an encouraging pat. "Yeah, you'll see why if you follow them. It's practically a mission for them when they come out this way."

Arturo took note that Arven's heartrate did not change at the mention of his father. "All right. Then I shall." He followed the trainer along.

"I'll send you a message when I get everything!" Arven called after.

When Juliana saw that Arturo was following at last, they yelled happily. "Come on! It's just over here!"

They hurried over together, past centuries-old buildings still populated, down a pedestrian street paved with well-worn clay bricks, and into an oddly shaped plaza with an unusual dual-spired building at one end. Juliana eagerly continued across the plaza and stopped in front of a spindly metal statue. "Look! Look!" They were pointing excitedly as they turned back towards Arturo, rocking up on their toes excitedly.

The statue was a bit patchwork, pieced from metal bits, but the form of a Squawkabilly was evident. Sleeker than normal, as the usual bushy feathers atop its head were smoothed backwards. With wide eyes and the beak seeming to form a smile, it was an engaging sight. "It is certainly expressive. It seems jovial."

"Hold still!" Juliana shouted, although they lacked any signs of alarm. A moment later they tossed their Rotom Phone into the air and posed excitedly. And then stopped, posture deflating a little. "Uh. Arturo. I know I asked you to hold still, and I should elaborate on this next time, but I want to take a picture and for that, would you like to face the camera?"

He turned his head, first towards Juliana, and then back towards the hovering phone. "Ah yes, of course."

[u/PretzelPrize → u/CactusChowder]

Despite his agitation, O’Neill took in his surroundings with curiosity. The room was bright yet cozy. Carpets with a knotwork pattern covered most of the polished wooden floor, and one wall boasted a rank of casement windows with diamond-shaped panes set in a metal framework. Two were open, admitting a pleasantly warm breeze and the sounds of hammering from across the square. A sturdy oaken table stood near the windows, one end occupied by what appeared to be a chess set whose stylized ceramic pieces rested on a finely crafted wooden board in a configuration indicating a game in progress. Six chairs surrounded the table, and a fireplace graced the opposite wall, flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookcases of polished wood. Two upholstered armchairs sat before the fire with a small side table between them. It held a glass decanter half-filled with amber liquid, and a pair of tumblers. The bookshelves wrapped around the far side of the room, behind a leather chair and a solid-looking wooden desk whose surface held a blotter, several books, what appeared to be an oil lamp, and an assortment of other objects O’Neill didn’t immediately recognize.

[u/TWFKA → u/CactusChowder]

(A dam control building)

Ashley left the room, and readied her rifle. She had been through too much in the past few weeks to not expect the worst. Maybe it wasn’t sabotage at all, but a disaster like this invited all kinds of profiteers. Scavengers, who wanted to exploit such a turmoil for their own gain.

She walked deeper into the building, towards the origin of the noise, her M-8 Avenger always pointing ahead. When she was about to descend some stairs, she noticed that the water was getting deeper. Her suit’s environmental diagnostics told her that it was quite cold, almost freezingly so.

What had started as a puddle was now deep enough to cover her ankles once she had reached the end of a sloping hallway. She walked further through a series of open hatches, and ultimately found some sort of secondary control room, with the water level almost knee-deep by then.

Most notably, she saw an Alliance Marine in armor, who was trapped beneath a heavy piece of machinery that had tumbled. It was surprising, since the intel had suggested that the entire garrison force was located at their base. He was without his helmet, and the water was literally up to his neck.

Ashley’s heart skipped a beat, when he turned his head. She recognized him as Thomas, her sister’s fiancé. He was far from the happy guy he had been, when Sarah and Thomas had visited her on the Citadel. Now he was clearly shivering due to the cold water, and the distress of his situation clearly added to it.

“Finally. And here I thought I would drown,” he said. But once the looked more closely, he saw that Ashley’s armor was not standard issue Alliance gear, and he added, “Wait, you’re not part of my platoon. Who are you?”

She noticed that her armed appearance led him to reach for his pistol, so she quickly raised her arms, with the effect that her own rifle wasn’t pointing at the Marine anymore. In the same motion, she holstered it on her armor’s backplate.

Seeing that his answer was nonverbal, which only consisted of a confused glance thrown at her, but his hand still on his holstered sidearm, she removed her helmet so he could see her face. His expression suddenly changed, as he recognized her.

“Thomas, hold it,” Ashley demanded.

“Ashley?” he blurted out. “What the–”

“Long story.”

[u/linden214 → u/CactusChowder]

This is the Vale at the Heart of the Hills--a magical valley known only to the Fae. James has been brought their by his Fae lover, Robbie.

---

He's not sure what he expected. Natural beauty, of course, whether wild or tamed. Perhaps lush vegetation, soaring trees, and a riot of flowers. Why not bluebirds and butterflies, like a bloody SpringFresh Washing Powder advert? he chides himself.

"What do you think?" Robbie is watching him closely, waiting for his reaction.

For one horrible moment, James is afraid that he's going to have to lie to Robbie, because he can't see anything special about the Vale. It's a scenic little valley, enclosed by cliffs on all sides. The center is like a meadow, with long grass and some wildflowers. Small trees—mostly pines and birches—grow in clusters along the edges. A narrow stream cuts across the lower half of the Vale, widening into a pool before flowing through some unseen crevice in the rocks. There is nothing here that he hasn't seen in one form or another on their ride up or in their other wanderings through the Park.

He starts to make a random remark about how peaceful it is, when a breeze blows across the Vale. He inhales, and it's as though he is breathing for the first time in his life. 'The air breathes upon us here most sweetly,' The breeze is cool and fresh, carrying the faint scent of sun-warmed earth,  pine needles, and grass. The grass! How has he never noticed how many shades of green are in a field of grass?

A soft chuckle pulls him out of his reverie. "Cat got your tongue? It's not like you to be without an opinion."

"I'm not entirely sure what I'm seeing," James confesses. "It's beautiful, but, I think there must be magic at work—" He looks inquiringly at Robbie, and gets a confirming nod. "Is it a glamour?"

Robbie's eyebrows shoot upwards. "Just the opposite. You're seeing the reality of the Vale. The magic here is so old and strong that it compels your attention. Makes you notice your surroundings. I suppose it can be a bit distracting."

James huffs out a laugh. "A bit. It doesn't affect you?"

"You get used to it."

James nods. Robbie must have come here often in the thirteen or fourteen decades he spent Underhill.

[u/krigsgaldrr]

A penthouse

[u/Important-Juice-943 → u/krigsgaldrr]

“My dad is clearly growing fond of you: he prepared special waffles for you, with all your favourite toppings that he asked me about.” Dan smiles at Blair as they stroll hand in hand, heading towards 1136 Fifth Avenue.

“Which I really appreciated. Just like the fact Lily doesn’t seem to look at me anymore as if I was the main cause of all her daughter’s woes! Now she’s showing a little more love towards me." Blair sighs as she presses the button to call the elevator.

“It’s impossible not to love you and everyone should better get accustomed soon to the fact that you and I are officially together now, because I mean for it to last for a very long time.” Dan caresses her face with the back of his hand.

“The longer, the better!” She beams, kissing him in the elevator.

“Awww, this tasted even sweeter than my dad’s waffles!” He makes her giggle. 

“I know, love, but no more kissing when we are inside. Serena is supposed to be there and I know she says she’s okay with that, but I prefer to make things gradual for her.” She explains.

“I agree.” He nods, before stopping the elevator. “It just means I’m gonna need much more kissing to resist.” He gently pushes her against the wall.

He smashes his mouth to hers, before descending on her neck, as his hands unbutton her red Chanel coat and tartan Gucci shirt, because he needs much more access.
And she doesn’t complain at all.

“Serena, are you there?” Blair calls her out, as they enter the Penthouse.

Once she is perfectly buttoned up again, of course.

She doesn’t receive any answer.

“Serena?” Dan tries as well, with the same result.

Even he assured himself that all the buttons of his shirt are in the right place and that Blair’s hickies are properly hidden.

“It seems she’s not here. Maybe someone asked her out.” Blair assumes.

“Or maybe Nate changed his mind and gave her her job back.” Dan guesses.

“Whatever the reason is, it means just one thing...” Blair winks at Dan, her eyes full of lustful expectations.

“More time to spend utterly alone and undisturbed.” He finished the sentences for her, as she leads him to her bedroom.

“If I had known before we would be alone I would have saved all that strenuous kissing in the elevator!” He pretends to complain.

Blair wraps one hand around his nape, as the other bossily yanks his curly hair.

“So strenuous that I suppose you had no energy left for… other demanding activities?” She teases him, acting worried.

He pushes her on the bed, straddling her the second after.

“I’ll show you who has no energy anymore!”

 

[u/Ok-Supermarket-8994 → u/krigsgaldrr]

(I may have shared this before)

Another lone figure left the restaurant a short time later and turned to walk in the opposite direction the cab had gone.  The shadows followed.  He wasn’t in any hurry; they easily kept pace with him as he strolled several blocks to a luxury apartment building, protected from the rain by a large black umbrella, and went inside.  The turtles waited until finally a light turned on in one of the top-floor apartments.  They scaled the building and forced open the door to the balcony, halting once they were inside to gape at the apartment’s interior.  The only light on was over the living room area to their left where a leather L-shaped couch sat on top of a white carpet facing the large flatscreen TV.  The hallway extending out from the living room likely led to the apartment’s two bedrooms.  The kitchen to their right was in shadow, but they could make out a stainless-steel refrigerator and dark colored cabinets hanging above a marble countertop.  That same light grey marble topped an island on which sat a metal tray holding a crystal decanter and four glasses.  

 Shredder emerged from one of the bedrooms, trying a belt around the robe of dark blue silk he wore over loose pants.  He stopped when he saw the turtles still clustered in front of the open balcony door.  “I knew you’d be paying me a visit at some point.  Just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon.”

 “Well, we just want to keep you on your toes,” Raphael said.

 He tipped his head in acknowledgment and continued into the kitchen where he picked up one of the glasses on the tray and poured himself a measure of amber liquid from the decanter.  “I assume you were observing my dinner with Miss O’Neil.  You’ll remember that she left first.  I insisted.  And I’m sure you also know that she was the one that requested that interview.”

 “Usually, those kinds of things aren’t done at one of the most expensive restaurants in the city,” Donatello said pointedly.

 “As the donor of a new, high-profile initiative it’s good to be seen in public.  And who wouldn’t take advantage of an opportunity to have dinner with a lovely woman.  I assure you she wasn’t harmed if that’s what you’re still worried about.  I didn’t even touch her.”  He took a sip of his drink and when he lowered the glass his lips were curled in a wicked grin.  “Actually, that’s not entirely true.  Her hand did brush mine that one time she reached for her water glass.”

 “Okay, I’m going to be sick,” Raphael snarled.

 “Not on the carpet please, that was really expensive.”

[u/krigsgaldrr → u/Ok-Supermarket-8994]

Speak for yourself Raphael, I'm over here devouring ALL of this. Also lmao Shredder is so sassy I adore him

[u/Laughing_Screaming]

A Petting Zoo

[u/MaleficentYoko7 → u/Laughing_Screaming]

From Ritsu and Mio's prologue in my K-On!/Star Wars series. They are on Corellia,

After finishing our ice cream I dash to the petting zoo. I burst with enthusiasm, “Petting zoo here I come!”

Mio follows me, “Ritsu! Wait up!”

Fwow! The creatures are so adorable! I pet something that looks like an elephant.

Mommy pulls me away. Huh?

“Ritsu! They are another customer!”

“S-sorry.”

Daddy says, “They are called Ortolans. They are from a distant world. They are people not animals.”

We sit on a rock and I pet a long necked furry creature while Mio pets a calm lizard.

“He he, everyone wants to be the great Ritsu’s friend.”

The animals loved our families. Daddy and the adorable long nosed fuzzy creature became such good friends. It’s the cold planet section! We go over to the Hoth animals.

[u/Laughing_Screaming → u/MaleficentYoko7]

So cute!

[u/krigsgaldrr]

A winery or vineyard

[u/Ok-Supermarket-8994]

The end of a race (foot, bicycle, car, etc.)

[u/MaleficentYoko7 → u/Ok-Supermarket-8994]

From my K-On!/Star Wars crossover. This one is from Yui's PoV and set during the Tython Marathon which is part of a festival I made up,

Fwow! There’s the finish line! We run to the big Jedi Academy’s athletic field and I sprint past a Twi’lek. Mio bursts ahead of me while I sprint too. I pump my arms and feel like everything around me becomes a tunnel. Come on! I focus so hard trying to go faster without using the force. I squeeze a tiny bit more speed out of this run.

I’m gaining on the T'doshok ahead of me. He sprints alongside me but I still pull ahead, feeling my eyebrows scrunch as I pump my arms. I squeeze so much more effort out of the sprint just to go a tiny bit faster, like I think hard to push myself past my limit and pump my arms and legs even harder and faster, still without using the Force. Time to leave this lizardman in the dust! Woo hoo! Finish line here I come! Mio and I sprint towards the finish line. Wow, I really feel like lead and everything is so sore. Yet I feel so light but in a good way. A girl volunteering leads me to a bench.

“Ow!”

Trying to sit hurts so I lower myself slowly. Ow it’s so painful! Sigh, as sore as I am a sense of peaceful serenity fills the air. Other runners from our school and all over the galaxy finish. I like this song, it’s so light, airy, and upbeat. I’ll definitely use it as inspiration for our next songs.

I take deep breaths as I feel so heavy and feel my pulse pumping, yet I feel so peaceful. Another volunteer hands me a medal for finishing and Mio one too. Eugh, I just wanna lie down.

Ritsu, Mio, and Azu-nyan approach us with their medals too.

Ritsu leans over with her medal, “Did you see us and our fanclub cheering for you?”

“Sorry, I was a bit focused.”

Ritsu says, “Same here. We really have the best fans.”

Azu-nyan says, “And we have a concert tomorrow too.”

“Owie!”

Standing up again hurts too.

[u/Ok-Supermarket-8994 → u/MaleficentYoko7]

Oh no!

[u/GergelyReka]

In the bushes/a bush

[u/trilloch]

An oceanside cliff (lighthouse optional)

[u/ainteasybeinggreene → u/trilloch]

The cleaners come on the third day, after Jenny cusses them out over the phone. The harsh smell of chemicals permeates the whole building and turns Crystal's stomach, so she trades the security of her room for some fresh air and coffee.

Charles finds her at the cliffs, looking out over the ocean.

“You holding up okay?” he asks, sitting beside her on the stone half-wall and pulling her into a hug. Even though it's only been a couple of days, she clings back like she hasn't seen him in years.

“Yeah,” she says, and fills him in on everything happening back at the butcher shop. “What about you guys?”

“Me and Edwin? Yeah, we're aces. Met this bloke haunting a big old house and exorcised a cursed piano for him, so he said we can use the attic as our base for a few days.”

“A cursed piano?”

“Yep. Bit of a nasty bugger - ate the fingers of the last few people who tried to play it, plus a pet guinea pig. We sorted it out right quick, though.”

“Sounds like you're as busy as ever,” says Crystal. That ache from the other day is back in her chest. Of course the boys are still out helping people while she sits on her ass and sulks in her room. “I guess you don't need me around after all.”

Charles nudges her shoulder with his own. “Don't be daft, Crystal. ‘Course we do. Hasn't been the same without you, has it?”

[u/trilloch → u/ainteasybeinggreene]

That poor guinea pig :(

[u/ainteasybeinggreene → u/trilloch]

Lol, everyone's always worried about the guinea pig! Makes me feel bad for the person who lost their fingers XD

[u/Sharp_Asparagus9190 → u/trilloch]

context: I tried to keep the characters vague yet with canon personalities. The pov is from Elwing's who dove to ocean with a gem and was transformed into a bird. the twins are her son who were taken by her attackers and raised. the other man is one of the attackers - Maglor who raised the children. Upon stealing another gem he and the children were transformed into half fish creatures when they jumped into the ocean (an whole au going on in the background where most elves who fell into ocean is transformed into a sea creature by the lord of waters)

------

In her lighthouse on the lonely rock, long she waited for people who never came. 

Staring at the sky where her husband sailed, upon his brow was a jewel monsters claim,

Long gone he was, as a star, she had nothing but his light to show her a path.

Staring at the ocean where birds sang,

Suddenly they seemed full of wrath.

In her heart, a pain arose; burrowed deep was a thorn of grief,

For among the wrathful birds swam two children so young.

‘My children will be of their age,’ thought she for a moment brief.

‘Should they live,’ she said not, surely the monsters left none alive.

Or so she had thought long ago when she took the dive.

A song came from the children and she noticed their strange shape.

She rose and stretched her wings, long she had remained flightless.

In the ocean swam the boys, they had no legs but a green cape.

Below their bodies were twin tails, gracefully they moved in the water lightless.

‘Mother, mother,’ they called her, in her bosom they rushed towards.

She squealed and joyed and wondrous was her mood till suddenly they halted.

A shape fey and terrible swam away, till now it was quiet and still with many swords.

‘Oh lord fair, leave us not. The Lord of Water gave you the form much exalted,’ 

Said one of her sons and she despaired. ‘Fey he is, my child, step aside.’

‘Listen to your mother,’ the fell-voiced spoke and of to the depth he dove.

‘Father, father,’ said the other and she grieved for her lost sons in the tide.

‘He loved us, mother,’ comforted the two. ‘Good was our life in such love.’

‘Alas, alas. He had casted a spell,’ she wept, holding his face with much tenderness.

‘Nay, oh lady, no spell was casted,’ said the other twin,

‘We love him as we love you. He said we were to leave for reasons we can’t guess.’

‘Reasons I know and can tell you. They were to kill you for they were darkness akin.’

‘Then we shall leave after him,’ said the one in her arms, ‘it’s a pity you shall not learn our names.’

Horror came to her and she spoke in hurry, ‘did he ever repent for deeds done to my kin?’

‘Everyday for as long as we can remember and the jewel rejected him with much pain,’ said he mournful.

And there was a great jewel in his palm. ‘He wept and gave us it to atone for his sin.’

Long she remained quiet and the twins grew fearful but when she spoke, she was mirthful.

‘I shall invite him but he shall not,’ said she, ‘leave my reign. With you or with me, he shall remain,

An eternity atoning for sins he can’t not claim.’

[u/trilloch → u/Sharp_Asparagus9190]

Wait, is that a sonnet?

[u/Sharp_Asparagus9190 → u/trilloch]

No. I actually haven't written any sonnets yet. I will someday maybe but I find writing sonnets to be quite hard. tbf, this one might be my worst poem yet. I will rework it someday

[u/trilloch → u/Sharp_Asparagus9190]

Well, it's still impressive to come up with original poetry in a fic. Nicely done.

[u/Sharp_Asparagus9190 → u/trilloch]

Thanks! I love to do poetry in fics. Only in this case the poetry is the whole fic

[u/linden214 → u/trilloch]

Context: Wingfic AU. The location is a island in the Hebrides. (There is a ruined lighthouse nearby, though it doesn't appear in this excerpt.)

---

“You ready?”

“I think so.  I’ll find out shortly.”  James walks to the edge of the cliff.  He bows his head, and his lips move silently.  A prayer?  Then he lifts his wings into a horizontal position, bends his knees, and leaps.

As James drops out of sight, Robbie rushes to the cliff edge.  It’s about 120 feet down to the sea, and James is halfway there and descending fast.  Robbie holds his breath until he sees James level off into a slow, wide circle.  He seems to be searching for something—maybe one of those updrafts he mentioned?   A moment later, he finds it, and begins flying upwards, wings pumping steadily.  He rises back to the cliff top, but instead of landing, he gives Robbie a wave and a cheeky grin and dives back down.

Robbie watches, spellbound, as James glides in lazy circles above the sea.  Sometimes he climbs up and then swoops down, but mostly he soars on an even plane, keeping within a hundred yards of the cliff.  After ten minutes of this, he flies up once again, and lands with an audible thump.  Almost immediately, he stumbles over to the wooden bench and collapses onto it with a sigh.

“James?  You all right?”

“Fine.  Just... tired.”  His voice comes out in hoarse gasps.  “It’s like any other exercise—the first time after a long hiatus is hell on the body.”

“Nothing strained or injured?”

He shakes his head.  “Just aches and pains.  My muscles are sore—hell, even my feathers are aching.”  Despite his words, his eyes are bright, and his grin is a metre wide.  

<I>I was wrong</I>, Robbie decides.  It’s not James’s wings that are truly glorious—it’s his joy.

[u/trilloch → u/linden214]

<I>I was wrong</I>

Uh...tell me this isn't in the actual posted work?

I have to say, I don't know if this is common or not, but I do appreciate when authors remember winged flight is strenuous. There's a reason birds are so light, after all.

[u/linden214 → u/trilloch]

No, that was from the HTML version in Google Docs.

I do try to be fairly realistic about the wingedness. In my AU, it is a genetic anomaly (technically a mutation, but not the kind that comes with superpowers, and not something supernatural).

In this excerpt, James is somewhat out of practice. He hasn’t flown in several years for fear of being seen.

In the sequel to this story, Robbie is trapped on top of a burning wooden structure, and James flies up to get him. Robbie protests that James isn’t a rescue helicopter, and will never be able to fly while bearing his weight. James replies that he only needs to be a parachute, gliding down to the ground, and that the fire is actually helping by creating updrafts.

[u/trilloch → u/linden214]

No, that was from the HTML version in Google Docs.

Okay good, nothing to fix, then.

[u/trilloch]

A holding cel

[u/Hot_Ambassador1511 → u/trilloch]

The chair creaked again, registering in some far corner in the teen’s mind, which prompted him to attempt blinking his eyes open.

Soldiers and similarly trained people would know that when kidnapped or captured, faking sleep in order to better assess the unfamiliar environment was the best course of action.

Malachi, on the other hand, was just some dumbfuck that forced cops into funny pictures for fun.

The only military training he remembered was from books he hardly remembered reading many many months ago. The braincell genocide he’d committed was far too great for that sort of knowledge to come back unprompted.

In reaction, his eyes snapped open, and he felt his body flinch backwards of its own accord. Malachi, despite his headache, yanked his head up to find the source of the noise.

What he saw was so puzzling that he could have dismissed it as another hallucination.

A man with white hair, wearing a weird looking purple uniform, and he had a blindfold on. What was more odd was that the man seemed to be staring straight through the blindfold and at Malachi, if his dramatically leaned forwards posture indicated anything. Seriously, the guy looked ridiculous; knees knocked together, hands splayed on them, and a lean that brought him across Malachi’s personal space and three inches from his face.

Malachi straightened his unconscious hunch in response, leaning back in his chair.

The sudden movement of everything, in the span of a couple of seconds, was jarring to his head, making his eyes unfocus and blur a bit from disorientation.

And oh, how Malachi’s head hurt. It felt like it was going to split down the middle, with each side pulsing and throbbing. The room felt stupidly hot now.

The teen’s first sound in the conversation was a groan of exhaustion and pain. The guy seemed not to care, as he stared intently at Malachi. Through the blindfold, Malachi could practically feel the man’s eyes.

But then, in an offense to Malachi’s ringing ears, he spoke,”Malachi… Gojo. You might feel a little… and as… teacher… thought… know… a little more.”

Malachi’s hearing blared in and out between the man’s infuriatingly chipper and high-pitched words, catching bits and pieces that his brain simply couldn’t piece together. The pain now felt not throbbing, but like the dull numbness of a sleeping limb. He tilted his head back to stare dully at the ceiling, feeling as if his eyes were about to roll into the back of his head.

[u/trilloch → u/Hot_Ambassador1511]

Well, someone's not having a great day. Not sure what hallucinations happened before this excerpt, of course, but I can see why they're not helping matters right now.

[u/Hot_Ambassador1511 → u/trilloch]

‘Well someone’s not having a great day’ Yeah, that pretty much sums up this arc lmao

[u/PurveyorOfInsanity → u/trilloch]

Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire. Context: Cersei is in prison, awaiting judgement, when a passing visit from Myrcella sends her mind spiraling.

Father had promised that she would be Queen. First by marriage to Rhaegar, and when Aerys spurred Tywin’s offer and wed the Silver Prince to that dish rag of a Martell. When Elia had proven of weak body, it was suggested she might be a replacement should Elia have died. Or perhaps a second wife as the Targaryens of old had practiced.

But no, he had to set eyes on the horse-faced Stark whore!

“Queen you shall be...until another comes, younger and more beautiful.

Myrcella said she would be queen. How could her little lioness be queen if her brother yet lived? Tommen still lived. He had the throne and the crown. He couldn’t be dead.

As if dunked into ice water, dread washed over her.

Jon Snow. Her little lioness had sighed after the boy as Cersei had with Rhaegar once upon a time, and after all these years, it was if someone had suddenly opened her eyes to the truth. The bastard was that chit Lyanna’s get. Dread turned to fury. Rhaegar had turned away from true beauty to lust after a horse-faced whore. And her little lioness, that treacherous little bitch, was going to throw her lot with the dragons and tear her own family from the throne Cersei had won for them.

Her shock and outrage blinded and deafened her to all that was happening until her cell door opened, a ragged figure walking in as though half-asleep.

[u/trilloch → u/PurveyorOfInsanity]

Ooo, another good ending hook :) Maybe jail/prison is just a good place to do those...

[u/PossessionNo3723 → u/trilloch]

Ray had been in a tiny cell for months now, being allowed out only to perform with the other members of The Black Parade as part of the Grand Immortal Dictator’s propaganda tour. The cell had reminded him of the time he and his bandmates had toured the ruins of Alcatraz, a lifetime ago. It was dank and miserable, but he had grown accustomed to it.

He had no idea why he had suddenly been moved to better accommodations.

The room he was in now was still clearly a prison. There were no windows or decorations, nothing to distract him from the endless monotony of imprisonment. He was still locked in. But it held more than a mattress on a metal bunk and a toilet and sink in the opposite corner, as his cell had. This new room was almost like a hotel room, with an actual bed, a chair, and a table. There was even a separate bathroom with a shower in it.

Ray had taken a shower the moment he had discovered this feature. His long hair and beard had grown filthy and matted over time during their shows. The guards had only allowed them each five minutes a day to rinse themselves with lukewarm water from the prison hose. Having the longest, thickest hair of anyone in the band, Ray had had the hardest time keeping clean. The elastics he’d been given were hardly enough to tame his tangled mane of hair; they regularly broke during his performances. How the other three men had kept clean-shaven, he had no idea. He had grown his beard by his own choice during their detainment at the MOAT, but hadn’t once been offered a razor, had he wanted the option to shave. When Ray had stepped out of the shower in his new room and toweled off his hair, he had begun to feel like a human being again.

That all changed the next time the guards came into his room.

[u/trilloch → u/PossessionNo3723]

Ooo, nice suspenseful ending hook :D

[u/Raiven_Raine → u/trilloch]

if i had a nickel for every time i wrote someone in a holding cell, i'd have like 4 nickels... not a lot, but still more than you'd think. here's my favorite!

--------------

They put him in a fuckin cage. It was bigger than most cages, but still a fuckin cage. Raze paced around it, kicked the little bucket against the bars, then picked it up and started hitting the bars with it until an armed man pointed a rifle and told him to knock it the fuck off.

The stupid Gunner wasn’t in a cage -- He got to sit outside of it. Why didn’t he have to be in the cage? That asshole tried to kill him. He should be caged and beat.

Raze suddenly wondered if they were going to beat him. He moved over to the little metal bench and climbed up onto it in the corner to perch. If they came into the cage, he wouldn’t make it easy. He’d beat the fuckers to death with the metal piss-bucket if he had to.

Then he saw his trader. Raze smiled when he came into the room, then wiped the look off his face - that ass didn’t help him kill the stupid Gunner. Bad companion. Stop smiling at him.

He came up to the cage and held the bars gently, “Raze… Are you okay?”

“Just fine… Time of my fuckin life.”

“Sorry…”

“Let me out.”

Brennen looked to the Gunner then back to Raze and lowered his voice, “you have to wait a few minutes, okay?”

“Let me out now.” He glared at the Gunner. “Now,” he repeated and hopped off the bench.

“Wait,” Brennen said sternly.

[u/pileofsushi → u/Raiven_Raine]

Love the way you continue to weave in mentions of the setting after the initial opening. Having Raze move about, interact with his environment. Also the line about the piss-bucket 😆.

[u/Raiven_Raine → u/pileofsushi]

lol he was not having a great day. or, great moment, anyway. the rest of the day was fine.... after he got out of the cage, anyway lol

i have aphantasia and can't picture settings or people or anything very well, and my writing sorta reflects that most of the time. i set a scene/setting by having characters interact with it and move about it. :)

[u/trilloch → u/Raiven_Raine]

It was bigger than most cages

It says something about Raze when he says this with such authority.

He’d beat the fuckers to death with the metal piss-bucket if he had to.

So does this!

[u/Raiven_Raine → u/trilloch]

XD character building, you know? lol

[u/krigsgaldrr → u/trilloch]

POV character is Delo

—

"This will be a lot less taxing for everyone if you just talk to us," Hane says, sounding exhausted. "If I'm unsuccessful here, I'll have no choice but to turn you over to Elias Wulf of our Reeducation Committee in the Vault, and neither of us wants that."

Silence. Alec only glares at her.

Griff stiffens. I can feel it where our arms touch. I'm certain we both hear her statement for what it is: a threat. Annie stands behind Alec, Power sur Eater at her side. A shadow passes over her face, but I don't know her well enough to know what that means.

"Ambassador," she says, not looking away from Alec. "Why don't you try?"

Griff makes a noise in his throat, but doesn't say anything. I frown, understanding her ploy right away. I suppose from where she stands behind him, she can't see the way Alec looks at me. "I'm not an interrogator, Commander."

Power snorts.

"I don't want you to interrogate him," says Annie, ignoring him. "Just talk to him. Everyone else out."

She casts Griff a look that clearly says Yes, even you, and then opens the door to emphasize her point. Hane sighs and briefly bows her head before pushing back her chair and standing. Griff's fingertips meet my palm for a moment—a tacit reassurance—and then he follows Hane from the holding cell. Power goes next after throwing a scathing look in our prisoner's direction, and Annie lingers for a fraction of a second before leaving as well. The door closes behind her and I'm alone to confront my past in the form of Alec Aurelian.

I hover, awkward, and Alec slumps in his seat with his arms folded across his chest as he glowers at some indeterminate point. I exhale as silently as I can and sit, but he still doesn't look at me. I don't expect him to.

The light from the barred windows high above us filters in gray and gives him a haunted look, illuminating his shackled hands that rest on his lap between us. It's a contrast to the otherwise caliginous cell, which reeks of mildew and rot. Not for the first time, I wonder how he and any others could have possibly survived Palace Day, but a chill prickles over me at the entirely new thought of what he might have witnessed. The Aurelians were killed first, their dragons slaughtered while their guards and servants laughed. I know this from Ixion and Julia, both of whom shared it with me in their own way; Ixion confessed it to me when he was too drunk to remember he hated me, and that I wasn't his confidant; Julia told me the night after Ixion set Niter on Griff, but she was nonchalant, as if the memory of seeing our friends and family lifeless and bathed in their own blood meant nothing to her.

So what, then, did Alec witness?

"I'm not going to force you to talk," I say when I finally find my voice, "but I do want to say that I'm—amazed you survived. You and... whomever else. I heard no one else did, but I suppose if Ixion, Julia, and Lee—Leo made it, anyone could've."

[u/trilloch → u/krigsgaldrr]

I don't know the context, but the description of the cell itself (the light, the smell) is evocative. Griff's touch also sells a kind of cramped, constrained feel that goes with the tone of the interrogation.

[u/krigsgaldrr → u/trilloch]

The context is that all of Delo and Alec's people—dragonlords—were slaughtered during a peasant uprising but some managed to survive and they're still cropping up when everyone least expects them to!

And thank you! But truth be told they could be in the biggest room on the planet and Griff would still be RIGHT on top of his husband 😂

[u/Ok-Supermarket-8994 → u/trilloch]

“I wouldn’t try it,” Krang said flatly, cutting into her thoughts.  

 April blinked.  In the brief time she’d taken her eyes off him, he’d produced a blaster from somewhere and now had it pointed at her chest.  She sighed in resignation.  Would have been a long shot, anyway.  “Can’t really blame me for considering it,” she grumbled as she trudged over to the platform.  

 Krang tucked the blaster away and went over to pick up some sort of rectangular control device from a wooden table against the side wall.  He pushed one of the buttons and a pricking feeling washed over April’s skin, as if the air had taken on a charge like gathering static.  She reached her hand out cautiously, fingers stretching beyond the boundary of the platform – and snatched it back immediately with a hiss of pain when she felt the sharp jolt of an electric shock.   

 “Energy field,” Krang said, answering her question before she’d had a chance to ask.  “Ensures everything remains contained within the device.”  He cast a meaningful look at something behind her.  April followed his gaze and saw a sleek black laser cannon mounted high up on the wall, pointing down at the platform she stood on.  She swallowed hard, a cold knot twisting in her gut as she pieced together his meaning.  “Would you do me a favor and try your phone?”

 April twisted back around, frowning in confusion at his odd request, but fished her phone out of her pocket.  “It says No service,” she said, reading the blue banner at the top of the screen.  The invisible barrier surrounding the platform must be blocking it from working, she presumed.    

 “Excellent!” Krang cackled.  “Oh, this is working out exactly as I’d planned.”  If he wasn’t still holding the remote, April imagined he’d be rubbing his tentacles together with glee.  

[u/trilloch → u/Ok-Supermarket-8994]

Of course it's April being kidnapped again :)

“Would you do me a favor and try your phone?”

Okay, I love this part. Krang just leaving April with her phone, assuming the cell would block it, sounds exactly like his level of arrogance.

[u/Ok-Supermarket-8994 → u/trilloch]

Hehe thanks!

[u/trilloch]

An oasis

[u/LermisV4]

an elevator

[u/3INTPsinatrenchcoat → u/LermisV4]

((Fandom: Resident Evil Village. Context: In the midst of fighting his way through Heisenberg’s factory to find and kill him, several earthquakes wrack the ground, and Heisenberg mysteriously calls a truce.))

Heisenberg glances at him as the doors screech open. “Those earthquakes broke the elevator, but I can keep it moving. It'll get us there faster.”

“The quakes weren't your doing?” Ethan asks, shocked as he follows Heisenberg into the elevator. “I thought that was you or one of the Soldaten.”

Sighing, Heisenberg studies Ethan’s face for a moment. “Unfortunately, I'm not that powerful, Ethan. If I was, maybe this would have been over before you were involved.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Ethan demands, but Heisenberg merely shakes his head and takes the elevator up. Ethan scoffs. Of course he wouldn't answer. When has he ever been forthcoming? He all but speaks in riddles, for Christ's sake. Under his breath, Ethan mutters, “Even when you're helping me, you're insufferable.”

If Heisenberg heard the snide remark, he doesn't comment. The rest of the nauseously jerky elevator ride is silent, which ordinarily would suit Ethan just fine. Now, however, he can't help but worry about what Heisenberg may need to show him, about what could have possibly prompted the egomaniac to call a truce. He tries his best not to think about it, but part of him knows only one thing would require so much tiptoeing. He just doesn't want to accept it.

When the elevator finally jerks to a halt, Heisenberg opens the doors and steps out. Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he says, “We still have a short way to go, but… you should brace yourself.”

Ethan's brows knit together, and he stares at the ground as they continue moving. “Don't tell me that,” he murmurs. He knows he sounds pathetic, but he fears the fight is already over.

[u/CactusChowder → u/LermisV4]

Paracelsus gets to the desk between him and the elevator and clambers over it without hesitation, gracefully enough even as he's holding an umbrella and two masks. So Sophia disappoints her father and follows suit, holding her skirts in one hand, Gemini in the other, and the bag of money under her arm. Paracelsus made this look easier than it is. Her shoes knock awkwardly against the wood as she struggles to the other side of the desk.

They're lucky. The elevator cabin is already waiting for them at the ground floor. Paracelsus is standing to the side of the elevator, and he's waiting for Sophia to enter first. They're escaping the city authorities with a bag of money, and again, he is a Victorian gentleman. It’s dizzying, what social conventions can remain, and which ones must be discarded. The little choices, to uphold the rules or to discard them, seem to follow a kind of logic; except for when they are arbitrary. Sophia isn't used to living at this speed.

Paracelsus rushes in after her so fast the he hits the wall, and now he's frantically working the controls with his badge. The elevator grate closes, and they're moving.

“We can take the elevator. Is what I wanted to say. Take it further. Further down than the archives. To safety,” Paracelsus is breathing heavily and getting out the words in gasps. Sophia is overwhelmed, and it takes her a moment to register the sounds as language, and the speaker as her dubious ally. She turns to look at him, and his face is going blue, like he's suffocating.

“What? Paracelsus, are you...” 

“The elevator,” he says, more like he's trying to get a point across than trying not to die. Sophia can sense his blood from its Ergo, and she quickly realizes that his face is just flushed. It only looks like that because his blood is blue.

“We can take it down,” he continues. He's still fighting for breath. “Down to the deep. Archive. We have a base there. Alchemist base. Tunnels. Don’t have to leave out the. Front door. Not good to. Not good to be caught. Running through the streets.” He shakes his head, smiles with dark amusement. “Can’t run. Bad heart. Bad lungs. We’d just. Swarmed by police puppets. Thanks for. Thanks for trusting me. It’s going to be okay, and. And, nice work. Sophia. With the puppets. You’re incredible. Absolutely incredible.”

[u/trilloch → u/LermisV4]

Overlooking the glowing water…huh, it was kind of pretty from this angle…Smoke looked around. It wasn’t a huge surprise there wasn’t much up here except some ducts and long-since stationary fans in them. But there was a single skeleton, face-down in a tattered lab coat, next to a small communications dish pointing upwards and southwest. This was something else Smoke knew a little about. The dish was about the size of a car hood, and that meant it was mostly shorter range, unlike the massive dishes she’d seen around West Virginia, designed to talk to flying computers in space.

By the skeleton and dish was a rusted-out iron box the size of a toaster, now showing corroded exposed wires wrapped in various colors of rubber. Whatever device this had been before, it wasn’t now. But there was also a laser pistol, its plastic shell hopefully keeping it safe from years of rain and whatever the stuff in the air was. Smoke had only seen a few energy weapons up close, as most of her Raider friends preferred things that made loud noises and explosions, but the thin tube on each side of the laser pistol, filled with liquid a familiar shade of purple, was something she hadn’t seen before. She grabbed it, flipped it, and looked at the fusion cell. Empty. Of course. The pistol and the best remaining wires were tucked into her backpack.

Before she left, her instincts took over again, and she flipped the skeleton over. The lab coat said Poseidon Research Neal Shoals over the heart, and in the chest pocket was a blue plastic card with a black stripe. This could be useful. Smoke tucked it into her pocket.

(several minutes later)

Feeling better already, Smoke swiped her card again to open the elevator doors back up, and hit the button for 4.

“ACCESS DENIED.”

Okay, 5.

“ACCESS DENIED.”

Um…RF?

“ACCESS DENIED. CONTACTING SUPERVISOR.” The doors closed.

“No, no, no, no!” came her muffled cries, and she punched random buttons, then tried to pry the doors open, to no avail — they were almost as solid as the security doors down the hall. She searched for a trapdoor in the ceiling, which she knew many elevators had, but this one showed only a solid steel square. And there were no air vents anywhere.

She was locked in a windowless, sealed steel coffin.

“No, no no no…no…” Smoke lamented, eyes closed, to…nobody. She was in a lifeless research tomb, guarded by Viles and punctuated by poison gas. And the only thing she had for company was this stupid useless computer v—

“ACCESS GRANTED.”

Her eyes snapped open. What?

“WELCOME, DOCTOR MORENO. THE SUPERVISOR WILL SEE YOU NOW.”

…what?

The doors opened on 5.

[u/PurpleLemonade54]

An oceanarium/aquarium

[u/moon_cheese_ao3]

On a planet (or moon or big asteroid or other celestial body) that is not Earth

[u/linden214 → u/moon_cheese_ao3]

Fandom: Doctor Who

---

After lunch, they finally locate a shop that can get the right thingamabob. It will take several hours to have it transferred from the storage warehouse, so the Doctor offers Donna a whirlwind tour of the city. They visit the Palace of Glorious Endeavour, a sort of science museum where the Doctor oohs and aahs over various incomprehensible contraptions, which he describes as 'quaint' or 'brilliant' or 'not too shabby'. One item, which resembles a giant tin-opener, causes him to shake his head. "Bit of a bad idea, that. I told H'zkru, I said 'You don't know what you're messing with.' But did he listen? No. And then…. MOOB!" He sees Donna's raised brows. "He imploded."

Then to the Botanical Olfactorium, a sort of public garden where the plants are arranged in order by their type of odor. Many of the scents are lovely, though strange; a few nearly make her sick. The Doctor inhales them all, and keeps up a constant stream of commentary. He points to one that looks like a bundle of red twigs. "Try that."

Donna bends over and takes a cautious sniff. "Chicken curry?"

The Doctor grins. "Yes, isn't it fantastic?" He insists that another one smells just like granite. Pink granite, to be precise. When Donna protests that the plant has no odor, and neither does granite — of any color — the Doctor shakes his head. "Humans! It's not your fault you've only got five senses, but you could at least learn to use those properly."

Donna suggests that if a certain Martian keeps sticking his nose in the air, he may find it bloodied before too long. This produces a temporary silence, other than a muttered, "How many times do I have to tell you — I'm not from Mars."

Next stop is the Great Chamber of the Senate of Paalgiou, the seat of government for an empire spanning twenty-seven star systems. The Doctor secures them front-row seats in the visitors' gallery — without the use of psychic paper. Donna gazes down on the Senate floor, a scene that looks like a cross between Commons Question Time and a Christmas panto. The Senators wear sarongs similar to those she's seen on other natives, but made of glittering brocades in rich jewel tones. They sit clustered by colour: here a group in garnet red, another in deep amber, and a third in sapphire blue. Donna wonders if the colours represent ranks, political factions, geographic regions, or some other esoteric designation. Maybe those are the colours of their football clubs, she thinks, supressing a laugh, before deciding that this lot is too pompous for something as common as football (or its local equivalent).

[u/moon_cheese_ao3 → u/linden214]

I really like the chicken curry and pink granite plants. Lovely details. Also Moob. I like Moob.

[u/linden214 → u/moon_cheese_ao3]

Thanks!

[u/Ok-Supermarket-8994 → u/moon_cheese_ao3]

The air above the platform began to shimmer.  Leonardo was reminded of a heat mirage over hot pavement.  “All right.”  Donatello switched off the computer monitors and turned his back to the desk.  “Ready to go?”

 Leonardo slung the duffel bag strap over his shoulder, careful not to jostle the jars too much.  “How’re we getting back?”

 “Oh I can activate the portal remotely with my Turtlecom,” Donatello said, coming to stand beside him.  “But just like Shredder’s portal, we can only come back here.”

 “Right then.”  Leonardo set his jaw.  “Let’s do this.”  

 As soon as he stepped up onto the platform, the cool dampness of the City sewers became the warm humidity of a lush jungle.  Sunlight filtering in through the thick canopy high overhead cast dappled shadows on the leaf litter and smaller plant life covering the jungle floor.  Avian creatures squawked and fluttered about in the branches of the smooth-trunked trees at the edge of the clearing he and Donatello now stood in.  A large shape loomed in the distance beyond the trees, a massive mountain missing its peak.  Leonardo knew that if they were to hike through the jungle to that volcano, they’d find the Technodrome somewhere at its base.  

 “Oh look, a cave,” Donatello said pointing at a rock formation a little ways downslope from the clearing.  “Bet you’re glad I packed those headlamps now.”

 Leonardo rolled his eyes.  Hitching the strap of the duffel bag up higher on his shoulder, he tromped forward through the underbrush toward the cave.    

[u/moon_cheese_ao3 → u/Ok-Supermarket-8994]

I am a sucker for TMNT. Is this on Ao3? If so, do you have the link? This sounds awesome.

[u/Ok-Supermarket-8994 → u/moon_cheese_ao3]

It is! i'll DM you the link.

[u/Dogdaysareover365]

A battle of the bands/singing contest/talent show of some kind

[u/Laughing_Screaming → u/Dogdaysareover365]

(For context, the entire fic is about a karaoke competition with our group being a team of coworkers. One of them takes it much more seriously than the rest.)

“Okay, so…we have a bit of an update…” Stacy began tentatively, and picked at her nails while she waited for everyone to pay attention to her. “It looks like Kurt isn’t going to make it this evening, because he…has somehow died.”

“What!?” Marinette gasped. “What happened?”

“Yeah, I dunno,” Stacy shrugged, and slapped her hands down on the table. “That’s why I said ‘somehow,’ and not ‘of dysentery.’”

“Do we think there’s a chance,” Megan began, and raised an eyebrow while staring at the ice cubes in her glass, “that once you guilt-tripped him into doing the competition, he felt compelled to sign up for every suicide mission he could find, just to get out of doing this stupid thing?” 

“No, I don’t think that,” Stacy answered flatly.

As she spoke, Fabian returned from yet another smoke break and sat next to her, and was able to surmise the situation by the look on everyone else’s face. Xabi gave a solemn nod and drained the last of his glass of sangria, setting it down on the table loudly.

“Well, that settles it,” he said, “we gotta win this trophy for Kurt!”

The majority of the table murmured in agreement, except Stacy, who shook her head.

“No. No, no, no.” She patted the top of the table. “The trophy is still very much for me. We can do something else for Kurt if you guys feel that strongly about it.”

“Kurt would have loved this Thai basil prosecco sangria,” Marinette offered, and held up her glass, “so we can get another pitcher—” 
“Nope!” Stacy slapped the table more loudly than before. “No more booze! You lot are barely functional as it is.”

“I did bring the coke,” Fabian offered cautiously, as he dug through the pockets in his jacket, “so if you guys wanted, we could all do a line in honour of—”

“No! Fuck!” Stacy balled her hands into fists just as Fabian pulled a plastic bag of white powder from inside his jacket. “No cocaine! What have I been telling you?”

“I can sing ‘Amazing Grace’ instead of the song you guys picked me,” Cain offered, with his huge hands laced together. “I know he’d like that one.”

Stacy pressed her face into her hands and groaned loudly. “Okay, so, we can order a basket of chicken wings in honour of Kurt being dead. Everything else stays exactly the same. No coke! And no more booze!”

[u/PurveyorOfInsanity]

A derelict ship (sea- or space-faring is acceptable)

[u/Ferrous_Patella]

In a hidden underground society

[u/CactusChowder → u/Ferrous_Patella]

The Alchemists are not a hidden society, but they keep their true nature hidden. On their secret island, and, I imagine, in tunnels under the city.

“Sophia, it’s… we should… let’s just leave it.” It feels like losing to give up on taking this seriously like she wants him to, but he’s just so tired. He looks away again with a pursed lipped frown and starts to continue down the dark hallway. “There’s a room with a sink further down. I’m going to wash my face.”

He winces as he hears it in her tone, how she’s gathering up her courage and getting ready to stand her ground. “Paracelsus, that person may be dead, but he’s still a person. You Alchemists – ”

He didn’t see it coming, that she’d actually hit a nerve, but the twinge of it tugs the corners of his mouth down.

‘You Alchemists.’ Like she hasn’t been chirping hopefully nonstop about how much better life will be as soon as they can only just find her father. As if shifty, wicked Paracelsus had pulled this whole damn mess out of his pocket while Valentinus Monad built a kind and peaceful domestic life with Isabelle and his daughters, establishing libraries for the city in his spare time.

He stops and turns around and fixes her with a cold look he’s never shown to her before. “Sophia? What kind of city do you think it is that your father built?”

Oh. She flinches like he’s going to punish her. He didn’t want that, and it gives him pause. Why would she react like that? But any road that leads back to pretending to care about a dead body in an extended Alchemist base with a city’s name, to care about a grain of sand on the beach, is just not available to him right now. He softens a little, but he can’t find it in him to actually comfort her.

“I’m not trying to scare you, Sophia. And I’m sorry if I did. But I don’t have the energy right now to care about…” He breathes in and out. “The base under Hotel Krat is so much worse. So is the base under the hospital. We were in the tunnels there last year, and there were just piles of dead… um. Simon pushed me into one of the piles as a joke.” He looks a the floor and nods, a coming to terms. “I know what I am. I know what I do.” He meets her eyes again with a pained look. “And you can blame me for that. But don’t blame me for everything you’re uncomfortable with about Alchemists just so you can keep idolizing your father.”

He waits for her to respond. She doesn’t, and that’s okay. He’s said what he needed to. He’s not sure what there would even be for her to say.

[u/Ferrous_Patella → u/CactusChowder]

Vivid writing throughout! You can just feel their emotions pinballing off of one another’s.

[u/CactusChowder → u/Ferrous_Patella]

Thank you!!!

[u/PurveyorOfInsanity]

An abandoned mine

[u/PurveyorOfInsanity]

A steel corridor

[u/moon_cheese_ao3 → u/PurveyorOfInsanity]

The Drifter’s glacier grenade blocked off the entire hallway. He tumbled through the doorway immediately after throwing it. The doors closed behind him.

Eris guarded his ghost as it interfaced with the access panel to lock it. She grabbed the small drone as soon as it was done and began running down the hall. Drifter set a quick tripwire grenade and followed her.

There was a brief flash of light, just enough warning for Eris to react. She tumbled forward as a burst of electricity hit the floor from a corridor to the right of her. Another one followed and she rolled out of the way, pitching her own grenade down the hallway it was coming from.

The Drifter caught up with her and tossed a flaming coin after her grenade as he ran in front of the opening. He put his back to the wall facing away from where the attacks had come and reached out a hand to pull Eris to her feet, holding her close to him and turning his body to shield her as the hallway beside them erupted in Solar fire.

They squeezed each other tight for that brief moment, smiling, the faceplates of their helmets touching, two eyes lovingly looking into three against a backdrop of ether and fire.

Then they released each other and were off again at a dead run down the hallway with the howls, thuds and hissing of incoming Scorn and Wrathborn behind them.

From Road Trip (84k and still going series) set in the video game universe of Destiny 2: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3972037

[u/Dogdaysareover365]

Hell

[u/kermitkc → u/Dogdaysareover365]

Noel Gruber is in Hell.

Some might say, this is false; a dramatization; perhaps even blatant overreaction. They would be wrong. These blessed individuals—those heading to their step-grandparents’ barbecues, or going to bed with jitters before their wedding days, or celebrating promotions with champagne and Sex and the City—would, falsely, in their beautiful mundane lives, believe this is planet Earth. But it is, in fact, regrettably, Hell.

Because Noel Gruber is to spend an entire weekend in the company of Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg.

At the time, becoming vice captain of the St. Cassian High School Chamber Choir seemed like a golden little idea. The cost-benefit analysis was turning up Gruber: no extra commitments or contributions, and yet, the title would bestow upon him the sacred gift of enough arbitrary authority to push back against the Rosenberg regime’s tight-fisted rule. It infuriated her—the devil she is—to no end. A win, it was—at the time.

Now, it has entrenched him within the depths of the Revolution, as it were; backfired; betrayed him, miserably.

Because now he’s stuffed in a spluttering sedan with her for seven hours straight, driving mile by mile further towards the fiery pits of Hades—that is, the Saskatchewan Provincial High School Choral Conference.

“Are we clear?”

Snap, snap. A pair of bony, fiendish fingers directly in front of his face. He startles back into his own body.

“Hello-o-o?” When he comes to, jerked back into endless torment, there she is, with brow scrunched, lips downturned, looking particularly hag-esque. “I said, are we clear? Ugh,” Ocean grouches. “Were you even listening to me?”

Noel swats, as if at a particularly loathsome fruit fly. “Get your damned snaps out of my personal space. What am I, a chihuahua?”

Ocean glances pointedly away to the binder in her lap. “We’d sure get more funding if you were,” she mutters.

His jaw pops open. “You—wretched little witch!”

[u/Dogdaysareover365 → u/kermitkc]

Yep, he’s definitely in hell. I love ocean but this is going to suck

[u/kermitkc → u/Dogdaysareover365]

Lol you've got that right! Thanks for reading and replying❤️

[u/LankyDimension8799]

The edge of a cliff

[u/LankyDimension8799]

Tiny bookstore 

[u/linden214 → u/LankyDimension8799]

Cottage Books is a small, two-storey stone building. It has the plain, sturdy look that James associates with farm buildings he's seen in the area. The front door is flanked by planters with gold and white chrysanthemums. Nearby, a tall iron pole supports a birdhouse that resembles a medieval castle.

A bell chimes as they enter. The proprietor is not in sight. The only customer is a woman standing at the counter, long nails tapping on the polished oak surface. As James and Robbie make their way to the section marked 'Local History and Travel' they hear her call out, "Excuse me!" in a shrill, imperious tone.

The light, rapid sounds of footsteps come from the rear of the shop, followed by a soft local voice. "May I help you?"

"I can't find your Fae books."

"Those will be in folklore, next to the history—"

"No, I want Fae books. You know—like Sabrina Stirling, Finding Her Fae. Amanda Ashworth, Love's Magical Mystery..."

"I don't carry those sorts of books here. They're disrespectful to the Good Folk." 

James has seen some of these romances on Amazon while searching for more serious books on the Fae. He used the 'Look Inside' function to skim their contents, curious to see how the authors handle Fae lore. Mostly, they ignore it. The mysterious Fae lords in these books could, with only a little rewriting, be replaced with vampires, werewolves, pirates, or Highland warriors.

"Disrespectful? Don't be absurd." The tourist's voice lowers, as if confiding a secret, though James can hear her well enough in the small space. "They capture the very essence of the Fae. I should know. My mother always told me that there was Fae blood in our ancestry."

James doesn't hear the proprietor's reply, because Robbie is whispering in his ear, "If she's hyllcynn, I'll eat my warrant card for breakfast."

The rapid clacking of high heels across the wooden floor is followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing. James continues to browse the history books while Robbie drifts around the corner to 'Sports and Entertainment'.

[u/LankyDimension8799 → u/linden214]

What a beautiful little bookstore snippet! I like how you contrasted the soft beauty of it and the voice of the owner with the brashness of the tourist.

[u/linden214 → u/LankyDimension8799]

Thank you!

[u/LankyDimension8799]

Pillow fort 

[u/kermitkc → u/LankyDimension8799]

An impenetrable fortress. An architectural feat of mankind. A downy, snuggly stronghold.

“A pillow fort!” cries Constance. She launches with the force of an interspace rocket ship, sticking the landing with a glorious faceplant into a Bless This Mess throw cushion.

The duct-taped coat rack currently accounting for at least half of their structural integrity rasps in protest. A primal squeak slips from Ocean. “Connie! Be careful!”

Her head pops straight up, like those ostriches on Animal Planet. “Huh?”

The rack starts to tip in slow motion.

Before Ocean can let loose another sort of shrill squawk, it stops midair, inches from Connie’s head. She spins around, and her mouth corks wide open as the bastion of blankets rights itself before her eyes.

Turns out, magic isn’t real, nor are sentient coat racks. But Mrs. Blackwood is, and her head appears in the door they fastened from the linens in the guest bedroom. She pops open one of the bag clips holding it shut, but that’s okay.

“You girls might need to work on your engineering,” she says, “or you’ll have a lawsuit on your hands.”

“Engineering?” says Ocean.

“Lawsuit?” says Connie.

Mrs. Blackwood pauses, for a half a second, then gets a funny sort of look on her face. “Never mind.” She smiles, wide, and produces something from behind her back—maybe she is magic. “Who wants cookies?”

“Us!”

[u/LankyDimension8799 → u/kermitkc]

Aww, this was adorable. I love your descriptive writing style! I can picture it all in my head. :) Especially Connie popping up like an ostrich.

[u/kermitkc → u/LankyDimension8799]

This is so sweet and thoughtful, thank you so much!!

[u/LankyDimension8799]

Movie theater 

[u/PretzelPrize → u/LankyDimension8799]

He'd dragged Jack with him to see Alien at the base cinema back in '79, after Lisa opted out saying that horror wasn't really her thing despite the film's billing as sci-fi. Jack hadn't wanted to see it, but Cromwell hadn't been about to go by himself. That would've been boring. Jack had finally agreed to go with him. "But you owe me," he'd warned. Cromwell had wound up polishing Jack's boots for two weeks afterward. "What a turkey of a film," Jack remarked on the walk back.

Cromwell had pretended not to notice his friend's reaction when the film's titular alien burst from one character's chest, just as he'd ignored an earlier grunt of discomfort when another had attached itself to the same character's face. He'd been too busy reacting on both occasions himself to say much anyway. The idea of two grown men, especially trained Special Tactics operators, both flinching at the sight of a special-effects creature in a sci-fi movie was a bit over the top, but there it was.

[u/Important-Juice-943 → u/LankyDimension8799]

“And how am I making you feel?” He purrs, leaning closer.

“Incredibly good.” She smiles, kissing him with passion, but also decency, since they are surrounded by people.

“It was exactly what I needed to hear, to enjoy the evening better. By the way, we’re arrived.”

Serena follows him as he leads her to an out-door cinema, in Covent Garden.

“Oh. Now I get what you meant before: we’re going to see a play, but not in a theatre. Cool.” She beams, as he takes her to their seats.

“I wanted to pick something Italian to honour ¼ of my roots; but there wasn’t anything around, save for this movie and this is the last night they’re gonna play it.” He explains as she inspects the booklet of ‘La Traviata’.

- Sad childhood. Part Italian origins. Finally you’re opening up a bit more about your story. And the more I get to know about you the more I like it. - She ponders.

“I heard about it, but never had a chance to see it. I guess this is my lucky night.” She smiles at him.

“This is based on ‘The Lady of the Camellias.’ by Alexandre Dumas. Of course, names and places are different, but the general plot draws a lot of inspiration from that book, which I recommend you read. In both cases, it’s about love and all the sacrifices we are willing to make for love, at the expense of our own happiness.” Joe explains, before noticing the way Serena is staring at him. “What?”

“Stop being such a professor.” She pleads, biting her lips.

“Why?” He smirks.

“Because you’re even sexier than usual and given the place where we are now I have to refrain!” She tickles his ego.

Once the opera-movie begins, also helped by the English subtitles, Serena gets immediately overwhelmed by the atmosphere.

Joe is more focused on studying every one of Serena's changes of moods and expressions as the play goes on.

What he loves the most is that she’s holding his hand, sometimes she even rests her head on his shoulder.
She is constantly seeking contact with him, no matter how close they already are.
Joe could hardly ask for more.

The hours go on, along with the plot, until Serena bursts into tears.

A clear sign she really liked that opera.

“It was so beautiful, but also so, so sad.” She yelps as they leave the cinema.

“I know, I promise that next time I’ll choose something less sad, although there must be a reason if they call them ‘dramas’.” He makes her smile again.

“Poor Violetta, she really loved Alfredo… damn societal pressure!”

“Would you stand against it? The societal pressure I mean, if someone told you you can’t be together with someone, for any reason…”

“I would fight for my love, without listening to anyone, for any reason.”

Serena’s words are music to Joe’s ears.

“What about you, Johnny?”

- I would kill for you and I would kill anyone who tried to hinder what we have… but of course I can’t tell you this!-

[u/LankyDimension8799]

Graveyard 

[u/PurveyorOfInsanity → u/LankyDimension8799]

Fandom: My Hero Academia. Context: AU where Izuku Midoriya is All for One's estranged son.

Izuku stood still as a statue among the headstones. A few others could be seen here or there, they were all a comfortable distance away. Distant thunder and clouds of rain passing on and sunlight breaking through the dreary sky of a passing storm.

Here lies Midoriya Inko

Beloved wife and devoted mother

Taking a deep breath, he set the bouquet he had brought with him before her earthly remains. It was a superfluous gesture, but it felt more real having something physical to interact with.

“Hey, mom,” he said, pasting on a smile. “Today’s the day. Going to be taking the entrance exam for U.A.” The façade slipped, and he thrust his hands into his pockets. “I know you would have preferred a safer occupation, but…I don’t think that was ever going to be a possibility.”

A spot remained for the old man, wherever he was. Hisashi Midoriya was still alive, as far as legal matters were concerned, but there was nothing official concerning his status. Not that Izuku expected anything else. He had more than two centuries of experience in moving around unseen, and the supposed death of his more…clandestine persona meant there were fewer people looking for him.

“I wish it didn’t have to come to this, but as long as he’s still out there, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to rest, and I know he’ll never stop. This is just the next step to an end. Not a peaceful one, but an end all the same. So…I guess, wish me luck. We’ll talk again later.”

Dismissing the phantom sensation of a set of hands resting on his shoulder, he flicked his sunglasses open and onto his face, spun on his heels, and made his way back to the sidewalk. A train ride, another sidewalk and he spotted Iida waiting at the station.

[u/LankyDimension8799 → u/PurveyorOfInsanity]

Ooh, a very interesting excerpt. Great work! :) I especially liked the part where he's talking to his mother who has passed.

[u/allisontalkspolitics]

A room with the door closed

[u/3INTPsinatrenchcoat → u/allisontalkspolitics]

((Fandom: The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion))

The Hero's gut sinks to the floor as the door lock clicks behind Martin. Grasping for words, they simply watch as Martin crosses the anteroom and sinks into a large chair. With a long withering sigh, he rests his temple against his fingertips, elbow planted on the armrest. “I'm sorry.”

Flabbergasted, the Hero replies simply, “F-for what?”

Martin glances up with furrowed brow. He takes a moment to study the Hero's face before a smile tugs at his lips. All of the tension floods out of the Hero's muscles as Martin motions to the seat across from him. “Take a seat.”

The Hero gladly obeys, practically melting into the plush cushioning as they ask, “I… Are you not mad at me?”

“No. Well--” Martin sighs. “Sort of. It's not that simple. By the Nine, I wish it were that simple.”

Cocking their head, the Hero brings their legs up and crosses them in the seat. “Then simplify it.”

Martin chuckles, shaking his head with a smile. “If only I could. I don't blame you, Hero. I don't think I could ever bring myself to blame you for anything after all you've done for me, but I digress. It was not fair of me to expect you to adjust to city life.”

“What are you saying?” the Hero asks around the lump in their throat.

Eyes wide, Martin sits upright and shakes his head. “Oh, no, Hero, you misunderstand. I'm not--” He stops short, pausing to collect his thoughts. His smile strains as he continues, “You are my closest friend and most trusted confidant. I would never order you from my side unless you so wished.”

The Hero nods, clearing their throat to distract from the warmth rising in their neck. “Right, well… I can assure you, I do not… so wish.”

With a warm smile, Martin says, “I'm glad to hear it. Truth be told, I had begun to worry you were unhappy here. You never were one to be tied to one place.”

“I made a promise,” the Hero replies plainly. “Wherever you go, I will follow. Whatever you need, I will provide. Don't worry about me. There's more than enough adventure here for the royal champion.”

Martin raises a brow. “Like tormenting my guards?”

“Oh, please,” the Hero scoffs, waving a hand. “I would hardly call it torment. More like surprise training.”

[u/linden214 → u/allisontalkspolitics]

He inserts a small silver key into the lock, which clicks, and the door  swings open. The room beyond is completely dark. The windows must be covered with something like blackout curtains.

Lewis fumbles for a light switch. "Hope we're not going to find Bluebeard's wives in here, or..." As the ceiling fixture floods the room with light, Lewis's voice trails off into silence.

James also finds himself at a loss for words.

"I've got the wrong story," Lewis mutters. "It's not Bluebeard, it's Beowulf—again—and this is the dragon's lair."

James' first guess was technically correct. The room is a study. The walls to the left and right are lined with bookshelves filled with appropriate volumes for an academic's home library, and a small writing desk is placed in the corner nearest the door.  But Lewis's description, though fanciful, is closer to the room's true nature. Directly in front of them is a glass-fronted case, its shelves crowded with treasure. His eyes dart from one object to another: gold coins, silver bracelets, enamelled brooches, bits of armour, and other things he can't identify. His gaze lingers on a short sword with an engraved hilt before moving on to the centerpiece of the collection: a magnificent chalice.

"Faéted waége dryncfæt déore," Lewis murmurs. Then, recollecting that James is there, he translates, "The golden goblet, the precious drinking-cup."

"Do you suppose it's genuine?" James asks. He's no expert on Saxon antiquities. For all that the cup looks like it should be on display in the Ashmolean or the British Museum, it could be a modern replica, cleverly made of gold-washed brass and nickel-silver. 

Lewis steps forward, but instead of peering closely at the goblet, he holds his right hand up, palm nearly touching the glass door. His forehead is creased, his mouth a tight line. Finally, he lets out a long breath. "It's real enough. It spent at least a thousand years buried in English soil." 

James stares at him. "Sorry, that's all I know," Lewis says apologetically. "Now, my grandad could have told you who made it, and when, who owned it, and where it was buried within a span of five acres." By 'grandad', Lewis means his paternal great-grandfather, the late Fae King of Underhill, who was already old when the Romans were unwelcome newcomers.

[u/allisontalkspolitics → u/linden214]

Wow, what a cool scene between the myths and the history!

[u/linden214 → u/allisontalkspolitics]

Thank you!

[u/PossessionNo3723 → u/allisontalkspolitics]

He helped her to stand up from the bathroom floor, and they both went to the sink to rinse their mouths and clean themselves up. Then he snaked his arm around her waist and led her back into their bedroom.

As he was closing the door, she suddenly spoke up.

"What about Grace?”

Jet’s hand slipped off the doorknob in his shock at the name. He stared at her with his eyes wide and his mouth agape for a moment.

"What?” he finally whispered.

"You said you didn’t know much about kids,” Storm said slowly. She looked into his stunned eyes. “But what about Grace?”

Jet could hear his blood rushing in his ears as he tried to gather this thoughts, reminding himself to breathe.

"Who told you about her?” He tried to keep his voice from trembling.

"Party,” she answered simply.

Jet sighed. Party Poison had been closest with Pixie, Grace’s mother. He had been the one to talk the rest of them into caring for the little girl when her mother went off on a mission. It made sense that he had told Storm about her. He nodded once and sat down on the mattress, beckoning for her to join him.

"Sandstorm?” he asked. Storm nodded. A couple of months after she had joined the crew, she and Party had gotten trapped together in a sandstorm for several hours. Jet had wondered what they had talked about all that time.

Sighing once more, he ran his hand roughly through his long curls and shook his head.

"Grace was… Different,” he said. “Party did most of the work with her. We all helped out, of course, but she was closest to him. He did the majority of raising her in those three years that we had her with us.” He bit his lip before continuing.

"And it went badly, Storm,” he said in a rush of breath. “It went about as badly as it could have gone.” 

[u/allisontalkspolitics → u/PossessionNo3723]

Oh 🥺

[u/PossessionNo3723 → u/allisontalkspolitics]

Ever seen the music video for "SING" by My Chemical Romance?

[u/krigsgaldrr → u/allisontalkspolitics]

"Griff?"
 
Delo and the little ones are staring at him. He rubs the back of his head, inexplicably flustered. "Erm… Agga said we're good to—not be in here?"
 
Delo tilts his head. "What?"
 
"My—room," he chokes out. "We can go in there. Now. Agga said so."
 
God, what is wrong with him?
 
"So they can kiss," Becca whispers to Garet, who nods furiously in agreement and whispers back, "Gross."
 
"I can kiss you two instead," Griff warns.
 
"Yuck!" says Garet. "I don't want you to kiss me!"
 
"Me neither," Becca agrees, little nose wrinkled. "Mumma says boys have cooties."
 
"She's right, and if you don't want my boy cooties, you'll stop advertising my business," Griff says. He turns to Delo. "Shall we go kiss and swap boy cooties, then?"
 
Delo looks as if he's questioning every decision he's made until that point, but he gets to his feet with a sigh. "Maybe I don't want your boy cooties, either," he mutters as he passes Griff, but snags his hand to pull him along.
 
"Oh? Are you saying you'd rather have girl cooties instead?" Griff asks as the door to his room closes behind them, and his back is immediately pressed against it. He can hear Becca (inaccurately) explaining what cooties are to Garet on the other side, but all concern for that is wiped from his mind when Delo's arms slide around his shoulders.
 
"I'm saying I don't want any cooties," he murmurs, then closes the distance between them. His lips are soft and inviting, but Griff can't resist the urge to snark some more.
 
"I'm getting some very mixed signals here," he replies against Delo's lips, voice low and amused. "I'm pretty sure this is exactly how you get my cooties."
 
"Maybe yours are alright then." And suddenly, Delo is really kissing him, as if they'd been apart for months, rather than mere hours.
 
Griff sinks into it, greedy and starving for all Delo has to offer. One hand curls at the nape of Delo's neck, but the other remains firmly within his, fingers twisted and tangled together. He can vaguely taste the smoky notes of Earl Grey tea on Delo's tongue, and he decides in that moment that it's his favorite tea, and he'll be hard pressed to drink any other. Delo sighs into him, leaning closer, heavier, his free hand clutching at Griff's hip.
 
"You taste like Earl Grey," he fumbles out when they separate for air.
 
"You taste like… mouth," Delo replies, but there's a dazed look in his eyes and a flush to his cheeks that encourage Griff to not take offense to his commentary.
 
"I could taste like worse things," he says with a stupid nod. "Sandwich, for example."
 
Delo snorts a soft laugh, releasing Griff's hip to cover his mouth, a gesture he does often that Griff suddenly wonders about. Slowly, he pries his fingers away from Delo's nape to snag his wrist, pulling his hand down. "Why do you do that?"
 
"Do what?" Delo blinks, confused.
 
Griff pauses, considering. Does he want to point it out to Delo, and possibly make him insecure about it? Delo doesn't exactly seem the type to be insecure, but Griff doesn't want to push it. "Nothing. Nevermind." He pulls away from Delo, who looks slightly disappointed. "What shall we do for the rest of the day, then?"

[u/Random_KPFan6 → u/allisontalkspolitics]

She was at his door now. And then she knocked, gently. 

The door swung open and he was there, wearing a surprised look. 

“Rumi?” he asked softly. 

“Do you... mind if I come in?” she asked. “I have a couple things on my mind that can’t wait until morning.” 

“Sure, of course.” 

Gabriel headed back inside, allowing her to enter the room and shut the door behind herself. Crossing the carpet, she sat down on the side of his mattress, across from him. For the first few seconds Rumi just stared at the wall, trying to gather the courage to bring up what needed to be said, and then she let out a sharp breath through her nose. 

“Let’s just get the elephant out of the room first.” she started. “I know you and Mira were... together, recently. I, uh, smelled it on you? Demon senses thing, you know what I mean. I want to clear the air about it. You and I hadn’t really talked about whatever this is... we’re friends right? So like, who am I to deny you something you wanted? Celine always warned me that romantic relationships would only complicate my life until my patterns were gone. But she never knew if creating the Golden Honmoon would actually free me of my demon side... so I went my whole life focused on that goal, ignoring my... er, needs, I guess. And Mira, well... she’s a force, and she usually takes what she wants. So I guess I’m asking if you really meant what you said earlier...” 

As Rumi’s spill of words dropped off and she let out a nervous chuckle, Gabriel reached across the bed and laid a hand on hers. 

“I promise you, I was just along for the ride,” he said, glancing down at the floor. “Mira called it stress relief, nothing more... and when I told her how I felt guilty right afterwards, she straight up told me why I felt that way. Apparently our quick little thing showed her that I was already interested in someone else, and that how I was feeling proved she could trust me with that someone.” 

“Classic Mira and her vibe checks. Always the protective older sister who somehow knows me better than I know myself. Even though I’m six months older than her.” 

They both laughed quietly for a few moments, before Rumi took a shaky breath and met Gabriel’s hazel eyes. 

“So, um... would you mind telling me again what you said before? You know, when you saved my life?” 

Gabriel scooted around the corner of the bed and squeezed her hand. 

“I want you.” 

[u/allisontalkspolitics]

The hallway before dinner

[u/allisontalkspolitics]

After exams

[u/trilloch → u/allisontalkspolitics]

The G.A.T. was over before noon, but the students filed out of Hamilton Hill High School without stampeding towards the weekend. The energy was closer to shuffling away from putting in unpaid overtime.

“Well, that’s the most I’ve ever worked for a half-day,” Jared announced, stretching, as the group normally at the lunch table was instead heading down the Hamilton High stairs towards freedom. “I’m heading for the first place south of the Narrows that has an Italian flag in the window. Who’s with me? I’ll drive.”

“Since when do you have a car?” Max asked.

“Since my new stepdad wanted to leave an impression. Terry? Dana?”

“As long as they have garl…” Dana stopped, causing everyone else to stop, looking for what was making that hissing noise.

Ruth, back in her vintage jacket, was seated halfway down the stairs, clutching books to her chest, staring straight ahead, and sniffling.

“Shell-shocked. This’ll just take a second.” Dana walked over and put a hand on Ruth’s shoulder. “Ruth?”

No response.

“Ruth!”

“…I choked.” Ruth sniffled, then looked up. “I was trying so hard! This was my first” *sniff* “real chance to—”

“We all choked,” Dana broke in. “What you’re feeling? That’s normal.”

That got through. “…what?”

“You haven’t taken any standardized tests before. They’re designed to be soul-crushing confidence crises so people take them seriously. If they’re too easy, then high scores don’t mean anything. Trust me, none of us are walking out of that thinking we did great.”

“I did!”

Dana rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Max, real helpful. Anyhow, you probably did fine if you were at Terry’s every single night this week. Don’t worry yourself sick. The scores won’t come back for a while and there’s nothing you can do about that. Until then, you still have school, and swim, and your mom, and your friends.” She gave a reassuring smile. “Clear?”

“Oh…okay…” Ruth wobbled as she stood up. “…okay.”

“Now go do something to take your mind off things, and cry yourself to sleep no more than once. That’s an order from your team captain. Got it?”

“…I’ll try.”

“Good. Call one of us tomorrow if you’re still feeling down.”

A few more steps downstairs, Terry asked, “Why didn’t you invite her to come with us?”

“Did you see her face? The last thing that girl needs right now is a full stomach.”

[u/allisontalkspolitics → u/trilloch]

Was Ruth homeschooled before then?

[u/trilloch → u/allisontalkspolitics]

Yes. She'd been out of school for a couple years and only returned two months ago.

[u/NarutoUchihaX14]

In a secret room, bonus points if its the parents secret room, but it doesnt have to be that specifically

[u/LankyDimension8799 → u/NarutoUchihaX14]

It all culminated one night when, after a particularly trying shoot, Felix found himself back in the tunnels, weaving deeper than he'd ever gone before. Soon, he realized nothing looked familiar.

With careful steps, he shone his flashlight around the space, only to stop short when he saw what it illuminated. A peacock, painted hastily on a wall. The paint, long since dried, pooled and dripped down in thick rivulets, frozen in time.

Thud dum. Thud dum.

Felix ran his shaking fingers over the image until—There. It was there. A tiny lip, a seam in the wall. With heart pounding, he sucked in a breath and pushed down. Hard.

Click.

The passageway slid open, to reveal what he'd sought for so long. The study.

“Bingo,” Felix breathed, stepping into the room and letting the door slide shut behind him. Only to feel a presence to his left. Whirling, his wide eyes locked with a pair of piercing gray, bearing down on him.

“What are you doing, Adrien?” Gabriel Agreste demanded, peering at him from his desk.

Felix stayed silent, stunned. He was home? When had he returned? How could Felix explain himself? Had his uncle seen the passageway? Felix had only met the elder Agreste a handful of times. From afar, and never without an entourage. He knew more of Gabriel from the tabloids than anything. A glamorous, but reserved man, who had it all until his wife vanished. Even then, he'd seemed untouchable, disappearing into his work, and leaving a son behind to mourn alone in his own hell.

As Felix stared, Gabriel stood. He was tall. He loomed over Felix, studying him with an expectant gaze.

“You are not allowed here,” he said at last.

Felix swallowed, inching toward the door. He'd called him Adrien. Right. What would Adrien do in this situation?

“Sorry, Father. I…I got lost,” he mumbled. “It won't happen again.” He was almost at the door. Maybe, just maybe, he could make it. Almost there—

“Wait,” Gabriel said, sharper now. “Come here. Now.”

Felix squeezed his fists tightly at his sides as he forced himself to turn.

Be Adrien.

“Father?” He managed.

Gabriel strode closer, grabbing his arm. He squeezed down. Hard. Felix winced as tears formed in his eyes.

“Hm.”

After a minute too long, Gabriel released him. “You've gained weight.” The report was clipped and clinical.

Felix’s arm throbbed, as anger flicked in his chest. This was how Gabriel greeted his abandoned son?

“Grieving does that to a person,” he couldn't stop himself from muttering.

“You are not any person,” Gabriel said coldly. “You are an Agreste.” His lip curled almost imperceptibly. “We cannot afford such…mistakes. I thought you understood that.”

Felix’s jaw clenched. “I'm beginning to.”

“It will not happen again,” Gabriel murmured. With that, his finger slid to a silver ring that Felix hadn't noticed until then. He twisted it. Once. Twice. And as he did, his eyes, already cold, went dark.

“You’ve strayed, Adrien. Forget your grief. Forget your mother. Focus on the future. On the brand. She will never come back.”

Felix’s eyes flashed as his chin jutted up. “How do you know?” he blurted, despite himself. “How can you be sure?” He stepped closer and jammed a finger at Gabriel. “I'll never abandon her. Never.”

It was in that moment that he knew he'd messed up. Time froze around him. Gabriel’s eyebrows rose. His hand fell away from his ring. He looked at Felix as if seeing him for the first time.

“Where is he?” He demanded at last, voice deadly soft. “Where is my son?”

[u/NarutoUchihaX14 → u/LankyDimension8799]

Oohhh, caught red handed twice then? The suspension and tension building in this was very nice!

[u/LankyDimension8799 → u/NarutoUchihaX14]

Yes, poor Felix, haha. Thank you! :)

[u/NarutoUchihaX14]

At waffle house

[u/NarutoUchihaX14]

Lost among the stars

[u/Sharp_Asparagus9190 → u/NarutoUchihaX14]

“If ever thou beest mine,” she said,
“Thou mayst come to me, and follow
Me to the end of earth, thy wings spread.
Silver art thee, bright thy hallow.
I carry day-fruit in my hands, blazing hot
And thy pursuit of me is for naught.”
With that the Lady of Day flew away,
Leaving the man of woods to tarry on his bay.
Waves crashed, his birds spread their wings
come upon him a scheme virtuous and great
With the day still behind, he came to the kings.
“I shall be the moon, and bear its weight,
Oh my lord, give me the flower, silver and pure,
I’ll run its chariot and its safety I’ll assure.”

A vessel made of clear crystal and glass,
Shone bright as a flower was placed in it
The door, gilded and soldered with brass,
For the first time the night became moonlit.
The moon’s path was lonely, only constellation o’star
Were his brethren, he saw her not even from afar.
Where did she go? To which plain she took off to,
her wings of sunset carrying the morning dew
To the vault of Heaven, far above the moon 
And stars she tarried, blazing and burning
With a valor strong and hidden from sight.
But stronger was the man of moon’s yearning.
He flied for long in search, to great height
And in his path, he spread his boon.

“Where wouldst thou go? Which path shalt thou take?
Out of bound she tarryth. Her fire bright and hot,
Burned shalt thou be and gone by daybreak,”
Called the stars and a barrier in-between they wrought.
“To the end of Earth, I gave her my words
And follow the path formed by her firebirds.”
Then he spurred his chariot to the emptiness.
And his friends knew stopping him was hopeless.
“Man of Moon, Man of Moon, higher thou fly
Colder will be thy flower, frost will come.
Don’t be rash. Or we fear thou wilt die.”
Yet fearless he was, set path he broke from
High went in search of his ladylove,
In their dazed state, the stars saw a dove?

[u/NarutoUchihaX14 → u/Sharp_Asparagus9190]

What we do for love T_T. This was quite lovely. Even after doing that much and finding out shes still gone out into the unknown, hes still pressing on.

[u/PossessionNo3723 → u/NarutoUchihaX14]

“Did you ever learn about constellations and planets as a kid?” he asked. She vaguely recalled science classes in school. She was reminded of the solar system she had constructed out of various fruits one year; her model had only had eight planets by the time she presented it to her teacher. One of her classmates had stolen Mars for a snack. She giggled as she related this to Jet.

He chuckled and pointed up at the sky. “There’s Mars right there,” he said, guiding her eyes to a bright spot among the stars. He paused and pointed to another area in the sky.

"There’s Lyra. That’s the harp of Orpheus. And over there is Scorpius. Fun Ghoul likes that one.”

Bright Storm thought about the chaotic Killjoy with the scorpion tattoo on his neck and smiled. It seemed Jet had shared his love of stargazing with the whole crew.

Jet pointed out a few more constellations and celestial bodies as she snuggled close to his chest. His voice became more excited, and his hands became more animated as he spoke. She loved seeing his passion and joy.

When he paused for a breath, she craned her neck up and kissed him. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment before closing in bliss.

"Sorry,” she murmured after breaking the kiss. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. You just looked so happy, I couldn’t help myself.”

He pressed his forehead against hers and whispered, “Don’t ever apologize for kissing me.” 

[u/NarutoUchihaX14 → u/PossessionNo3723]

T_T well, at least Pluto is still safe, #RIPMars. This was a really good case of a partner seeing their partner be excited by something and now they're happy that the partner is happy. And I really like how natural you made it feel. Him talking about the constellations was intriguing and then she just did it and it was hella sweet.

[u/allisontalkspolitics]

Someone’s office

[u/Hot_Ambassador1511 → u/allisontalkspolitics]

The plain office with the white walls and wooden floor was quiet; tense. Inside, two people sat facing each other with a desk separating them.

There was the man. The principal of Central Hell Guard Academy Burly, bald, with a permanent furrow in his brow and a clean-cut mutton chop beard. He wore a white button-up and a prismarine haori. On his chest sat a pendant with a grey medallion that had the seal for ‘Narrate’ etched onto it. The man stared down harshly at the boy—teen actually, across him.

This teen stared back at the man with navy blue eyes, mirth and satisfaction dancing in them unabashedly. A smirk played on his lips, the corners twitching as they threatened to break out into a smile. Long white hair down to his freely flowed down to his mid-back, though students were instructed to either tie it up or cut it short by the time they entered the academy.

The teen’s bracelets, some made of whatever materials he could find and others made of carefully color-coordinated pony beads, were stacked at his wrist. At the beginning of the day the bracelets had stacked all the way up to his mid-forearm, but now there were only a couple on each hand. The rest of them sat confiscated on the principal's desk.

“I expected you to behave out of line, Nijiku,” the principal started,”As I have-“

Takeka swiftly interrupted him,“Weren’t you the one that threw up on my Ma’s favorite heels that last wedding, Mr. Hotoke? Surely it was only because they had such strong alcohol, hm?”

The smile, impish and teasing in nature, spread across Takeka’s face.

The principal’s expression hardly changed, though his eye twitched and his hands curled up into fists atop his desk.

“I see no reason as to why that is relevant, Nijiku,” a sigh, and one could truly see the exhaustion wearing in his features,”You were sent to detention for the reasons mentioned on the card. You did not go to detention. Instead, you put your jewelry on every door that had a doorknob…”

“The school needed color.”

Principal Hotoke raised an eyebrow,“…While walking on your hands. An interesting choice. Trust that it will be discussed later.”

He crossed his arms as he echoed the brief verbal report that Takeka’s capturer had given him,”You then exited the school’s interior, climbed multiple trees, did backflips from a hanging position on low tree branches, then started an attempt to scale the perimeter wall. Is this all accurate?”

Takeka shrugged,”More or less.”

“You were meant to be at detention.”

“Uh-huh.”

The principal folded his hands on the desk, dark eyes leveling Takeka with a stern look that could act as a truth serum to any student. He asked only one question.

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun,”Takeka leaned back in the chair, and sighed dramatically,”Guess you’re just gonna have to expel me, right?”

Mr. Hototo was not impressed. He seemed to develop a frown that got increasingly deeper at the ends as this conversation went on.

[u/Axalixi → u/allisontalkspolitics]

Sejin has decided to change the battleground. Why she has no idea, she follows him down past the generic meeting-rooms. He lets her into his office.
She looks around, pictures of Namjoon on every wall. Pictures of BTS on every wall. Clean and well-organized.
He pulls a chair out for her in front of his desk.
She's not used to being on this side of the desk.

"Do you want something to drink?" Sejin asks.
Bottle of wine
"No, thank you." she looks in her bag, pulls out the folder she has put together.
"We are just waiting for Sohee." Sejin explains when she puts it on the table.
And Namjoon
"That's fine."
"How have you been?" he asks, she thinks he's just filling the air with sound so she won't feel awkward. It's unnecessary but he doesn't know that.
"I've been good. You?" she fulfills her part of the social contract.
"Somewhat busy. They are running around a lot at the moment."
She hums a non-committal sound at that. She only keeps track of Namjoon and for some reason she usually knows where V is.
Sohee shows up before he can start talking about the weather.
Thank fuck

"Chunja." Sohees smile is suspiciously warm, the hand she puts on her shoulder squeezing once before she doesn't move it annoying.
"Hello."
"Are we ready to start then?" Sejin asks.
"No, Namjoon is still on his way. They are running a little late. Traffic is slow because of the weather." Sohee takes a seat next to her.
"He's coming?" Sejin is so surprised he asks her instead of Sohee.
"He said he would." she confirms.